#trudging toward various goals

[soapoet]

who is thinking about you?

like & rb if it resonates ♡

01.

Shufflemancy: Power over me by Dermot Kennedy

For many of you this is someone with whom you share a somewhat professional relationship with. They may be a colleague, fellow student, a client, or service provider. Anyone who has some authority over you or simply holds a higher position. A person you turn to for help or guidance. To put it into perspective, this can be either your boss or someone you have hired or vice versa, but for some it could be the dm or fellow player of that d&d campaign, somebody you collaborate or work with towards something.

This person is very easy for you to talk to, and regardless of the professional or goal-oriented undertones of the connection, the two of you meet at a similar wavelength as equals. Lines are blurred both ways due to the ease and comfort of your rapport. Their day is made brighter in your presence, and they may smile to themselves whenever you cross their mind. Though on occasion they are filled with concern. It is possible that you have confided in them recently, and knowing your struggles sometimes leaves them feeling helpless. As if they wish they could do more. They certainly have a bit of a saviour complex, or identify as a problem solver and wish to fix some situation in your life or offer their support and guide you through rough terrain.

They are treading a fine line within their mind. They have thoughts and ideas swirling in their head, figuring out ways to best be of assistance to you and help you help yourself. Simultaneously, however, they catch themselves frequently smiling, heart perhaps fluttering, at various little moments you have shared, and the way those moments could have played out differently if only they had the courage to act more freely. They are caught off guard, possibly even disturbed sometimes, by their own capacity of crossing lines, even if just in their mind. They may even find it hard to sleep sometimes because they have you on their mind. But still they find these imaginary escapades intoxicating and rejuvenating. They find ways to justify their thoughts, telling themselves it is okay because it is all in their head and they have the wits about them not to act on them. Because their primary concern is with work or their obligations and role as a mentor or colleague of yours, they try their best to hold back and act normal. But if there is one thing they are not normal about it is you.

For some of you, this person is already in a commitment. Either to another person, married to their work, or glued to their projects and all their efforts are set on a goal they are pursuing. You stand as a distraction, a detour off their path, but what they may not know or fail to understand is that straying sometimes yields experiences and tools to make the journey to the destination easier or better altogether. It is also tangible the monochromatic nature of their life. Their relationships feel stale and uninspiring, as though they are trudging through an endless swamp. This may have been the case for so long they had forgotten what it feels to be light on your feet. They feel a pep in their step when you're around, and it is making them question many things and choices that they have made thus far in life. They may even be considering a change in direction, leaving circumstances behind or cleaning their contacts and assignments to make room for new things. They are excited, albeit a little scared, of the possibilities that they invite by closing old chapters. They may be slow to do this, as they favour routine and comfort and are a little afraid of the unknown no matter how their heart beats for some adventure and new winds in their sails.

They are holding their cards very close, and may have built their walls higher as of late. If you are observant, you may notice the disconnection between what they are feeling and what they are saying and doing. It looks like they are ready to boil over but are keeping the lid closed with brute force to prevent anything from spilling. They have much to tell you, secrets to share, confessions to reveal. But they are taking their time. They may be fluctuating between a decision to come forward, and just letting it be and get over their messy thoughts and feelings. To simply wait this one out. Especially because sharing what is on their mind could really shake things up not just in their life, but yours. They want to help you, support your growth and make sure to walk alongside you and enjoy the time you share together, but their vision of the future has gotten blurry and uncertain. This unnerves them greatly. They are likely to come forward, though with great subtlety. Keep your eyes peeled, as they may be watching for a signal or a clue from you before they make a move. They are testing the waters but may need a push before they dive in.

Additional details: Dark hair and/or clothes, blue or tired eyes, rabbits, computer screens, coffee, swivel chairs, hiking, size difference, "are you cold?", virgo/leo/pisces/capricorn, 27/31/911/93/21, T/A/U/S/K, June/July/August, LOTR, video games, d&d, board games, travelling, circus, strength, health, green cargo pants, glasses, skulls, frown lines, very straight teeth, rare but genuine smile.

02.

Shufflemancy: August by Taylor Swift

This feels very familiar. For many, this is a friend or somebody you view with gentle affection. Even if you haven't known each other for long, it easily feels as though you have known each other your whole life, maybe even longer. For some, you may have met them online or there is a physical distance at present. For those of you in close proximity, there is some other kind of distance. Perhaps you or this person have been busy as of late, or closed off somehow. Especially if you normally talk to each other daily, something may have put the communication on pause, caused delays, or simply shortened the duration or depth of your conversations.

They have a lot of admiration and respect for you, and find you very endearing. They may frequently show this appreciation through words of affirmation, always ready to remind you of how highly they think of you. They may also get you little gifts and tokens of their love and care. Anything to put a smile on your face, especially if you have been stressed or upset. They are quite smitten with you, and you may already know this. You have surprised them somehow. For some of you, this person is used to being in charge and knowing what's best, being right and correcting others, but you seem to have put them in their place to some extent. You might be the first person in a long time, or ever, to switch it around and have them be the one learning and growing and changing because of somebody else's thoughts, guidance, advice, and knowledge. It does not even seem to bother them, because really it feels quite refreshing to follow instead of leading for a change. They admire your perseverance and your strength, and find your ability to strive like a dandelion growing through a crack in the concrete sincerely inspiring.

Either one of you may have recently gone through a break-up within a major relationship in your lives. Something has been lost, be it romantic, platonic, or familial. You may have been of great support and a source of hope and comfort for them during this phase of their life, or vice versa. Their eyes seem to have opened up to the reality of certain habits or cycles in their lives that have not helped them progress, but instead turned into a hamster wheel. If they were in a commited relationship, they may have realised that they have been taken for granted or their partner may have taken advantage of them to some capacity. For some, there may have been quite a bit of toxicity within whichever kind of relationship or situation that ended for either of you. They seem to have you on their mind 24/7. They enjoy talking to you, hearing about your day, listening to your rants, and wish to spend a lot of quality time with you. They may frequently imagine scenarios that have to do with the simple things. Grocery shopping or walking together aimlessly. Even the mundane feels light and airy and brand new when it is with you.

I'll be honest. This person may harbour very strong feelings for you. Funny thing is, though, that you may be very aware of this. For a few of you, this is a very welcome and exciting development in your friendship, but you wish to take things slowly and see what happens without forcing anything. Especially if they recently ended something long-term, and you wish to avoid being used as a bandaid on a broken heart and would rather walk alongside them as a friend while they heal from the past. To just support them in their next chapter and see if the feelings they have developed for you have a strong foundation or if they're fleeting and rose-coloured due to their past blues. For others of you, however, you may be a bit put off by this. You may sincerely doubt your compatibility as partners in anything beyond platonic.

Perhaps you once considered it. Wondered what the future would hold should you allow yourself to be swept away by their waves, but that likely was not long-lived and went no further than idle what-ifs. You value their friendship, and don't want to ruin it by changing the status and the nature of the connection. You may even get the ick from some of the things they say or do, count red flags and deal breakers in an attempt to stand firm in your decision to not give in. Some of you may even have a history of lowering your standards or jumping into things too quickly because of the rush and excitement of new beginnings, only to be left disappointed and regretful later. If this rings true for you, stand firm in your convictions and don't let anything make you feel like you owe anyone anything.

Additional details: Number sequences/angel numbers/mathematics, airplanes, tech, IT, travelling, languages, studying, music, guitars, mean girls, pet names, norse mythology, E/J/A/R/D/G, 7/6/85/35/29, February/March/July, minecraft, discord, online, princess, water, cancer/pisces/libra/aries, starbucks, dogs, "you are incredible", gifts, adopting interests/hobbies, control.

03.

Shufflemancy: Break my heart by Dua Lipa

You may or may not have noticed someone stealing glances or studying your face closely when you're not looking. This person admires you greatly. It likely began as something quite simple. At first you were a source of comfort and guidance. They may have come to you for advice or help with direction, uncertain of where to go and may have been depleted of their energy. They are likely around your age or a little bit younger, but they certainly have more of a youthful energy to them. It seems like their childlike wonder is a front to the many scars they hide from a horrific past. The easiest way for you to identify this person may just be by finding out who seems to have been caught up in a series of unfortunate events their whole life. It might surprise you how much pain they carry specifically because of their otherwise sunny disposition and bubbly, sweet, and fun character. They find home in your presence. It seems like they have always had to be the strong one, carrying the world upon their shoulders, but in your presence they can lower their walls and show the grief that they hide. Far from trauma dumping, they very carefully calculate what to share with you, and do so in a gentle way that communicates that their burdens are theirs and wish not for you to carry them on their behalf, but to simply see beyond the surface and understand their turmoil. There can even be a bit of a disconnect between head and heart here, wherein they have distanced themselves from their pain to cope. They may speak of their fears and challenges with a smile on their face, as though they are joking around and telling tales of someone else, not themselves. At first you may have had to do a double take, shocked by the juxtaposition of light and dark so tightly intertwined, but you seem to understand their suffering on a deep level and sympathise with them greatly. This person may find you quite magical. In their mind you are like an angel. They don't expect you to heal them or make all their problems go away, but instead are filled with gratitude for the solace your presence provides. They find it easier to get out of bed in the morning simply knowing that they exist in the same realm as you. You inspire them to help themselves and do away with what no longer serves them. Your kindness and care is not lost on them, and they cherish your every word. They look up to you, and in many ways you may have resparked their will to journey on. No longer do they wish to roll with the punches and let themselves be at the mercy of their circumstances and fight the same demons every day. Though they often feel hopeless and have the light in their eyes quickly dim when clouds roll in, you have planted seeds in them which will slowly but surely begin to sprout and help them grow stronger and reach for the light they so dearly desire.

For some of you they may have an equally positive effect on your life. Despite the dark clouds that hang over them, they are radiant and full of fun and love and care. They might feel to you like a gentle wind blowing through your hair, a cooling breeze on a hot summer's day. Their energy is as invigorating as it is inviting, and you may find yourself leaning outside your own comfort zone and daring to be bolder, speak your mind and take yourself less seriously. They are comfortable to be around. The two of you may also share a deep compassion and care towards your environment, be it your community, nature, or humanity overall. You are both nurturing and caring people, but differ in your approach. You may find that things which come easily to you are things they struggle with, and vice versa, and you naturally seem to benefit each other and strengthen each other's weaknesses. For some of you, this is a very pure form of admiration and an almost familial sense of security that they have with you. For others they may have leaned further into it and caught very real feelings for you. Regardless, this feels fated, and is potent with healing and growth for both of you. You are frequently on their mind, almost as though you never truly leave and merely move to the side when they need to focus on something else. They think the world of you. They want to do better and be better, not to impress you but to truly make you proud of them and feel like your efforts weren't in vain. They love your voice and their days are made much brighter by you, especially if you think the reverse is true and they are the ones letting the sun into your life.

Additional details: Cats, messy hair, braids, spiders, networking, green or hazel eyes, big or glossy eyes, loud music, expressive face, K/S/H/R/T/P, 67/93/6/9/5, cancer/gemini/aquarius/virgo/pisces, September/June/July/August, mental health issues, lgbt+, rock/indie music, cartoons, hands, nail polish, muted colours, air, vanilla, chips.

04.

Shufflemancy: Disappear by eli.

This one is a little different, and I wish to tread carefully. This may be a person very dear to you, or someone who treasures you dearly. For some of you, this person is no longer with us. They may have passed recently or perhaps you never had the chance to meet them, but their energy still lingers. Especially when you find yourself at your lowest. For others they are amongst the living, but are in separation from you somehow. Radio silence, cut contacts, abrupt endings, the years took you in different directions, or something was left unsaid and feels stuck now. This could be a family member, relative, an old friend, significant mentor or partner, from this life or beyond, however it resonates with you and your beliefs. You have been in their thoughts and prayers lately. Their heart aches when they see or feel you breaking, crumbling under the weight of all which has been placed upon your shoulders. It seems like so much, too much, for someone so dear to them to carry all on their own. In their eyes you are so strong. Able to withstand so much heartache and still keep going, one step at a time even when it gets dark and grim and the lights become so dim you don't see where you are going. It is as though you tell yourself you have to. Because what would it all have been for if you stopped? Many may rely on you and your strength, but you need to rest and you need something to lean on, too. This person wishes they could hold you and tell you that it will be okay. That it's okay to cry and scream, but to never give up. Even when the light seems to fade from your eyes that otherwise burn so bright with hope and drive, they want to encourage you to keep going. The world would become so dark without your light. They wish they could apologise for any wrongs done to you, by them, your near and dear, really, the whole world. They want to help nudge you to greener pastures and help you receive your due. When you are sad and scared and weary, they try to nourish your seeds and saplings because you deserve a good harvest. They wish for you to become more selfish. To take up more space and let demands of your time and energy fall on deaf ears. To restore a balance in the give and take and make sure you ask for what you need, and accept the love you so freely give to others.

For those of you for whom this person is amongst the living and simply at a distance, they frequently wonder how you are doing. They feel regretful for how they treated you or feel like they failed you somehow, and wish they could give you their sincrerest apology. Not to be forgiven and clear their conscience, but to tell you what they should have said and done before but never did, or did not do or say enough. They just want you to know that you are seen and that they are truly sorry. And for others, this person is around you and you are closely on their mind and in their heart. They grieve as you grieve and wish to make it all better. They know they cannot erase the past or undo your wounds, but hope to see you make it and get where you are going. To find those with hearts as pure as yours and finally feel like you belong. You deserve so much and even I am tearing up writing this. I am so sorry for what you have been through in this life. Please hang in there. Additional details: Lavender, floral scent and/or fabrics, champagne, piano, keys, freshly cut grass, clutter, photos, journals, doodles, biting your nails, sagittarius/scorpio/capricorn/gemini/taurus, 2/22/5/8/95/27/3, May/December/November/April, country roads, apples/fruit in general, freckles or birth marks, fog, woods, nightmares, dark night of the soul, difficulty breathing, comatose, midnight, deer and antlers.

05.

Shufflemancy: All the things she said by Poppy

This feels a little bittersweet. The person with you on their mind may have once been a dear friend of yours, a childhood friend or neighbour, someone who once walked alongside you through important times in your life. For some, this person drifted away from you naturally, for others there was a more decisive cut to the chord between the two of you. Either way, however, in both cases you were left bitter and sad and alone to lick your wounds. You may on occasion, whether you like to admit it or not, think back fondly to the good old days and the sweet moments that you shared. Your inside jokes and the dynamic between the two of you may be something you miss, but you're still firm in that whatever happened here, be it a fight that broke out or the lack of effort and time on their part letting you drift apart, you do not wish to repeat this cycle. Perhaps you wish them well now that you have healed, or will once you do, but your life may now look very different from when they were a part of it. This brings me to why you have been on their mind lately. It's possible that they have seen you, bumped into you or seen you from a distance, or you have been mentioned to them by somebody else who has caught you out in the wild. You may be unrecognisable to them in some way. Be it a glow up or a sudden shift in your life having made you step into an energy more authentic to you. People from your past, beyond bridges you have burnt, may speak of you in negative tones and gawk at who you have become. Likely because those bridges you burnt lit the way to a much brighter future for you. Regardless of how your life is going, the past may be embittered with envy for what you do and who you are now that you are free from their rigid expectations. This person is not quite as vindictive in their thinking, though they may nod along and agree with those around them. In their mind and heart they have a bit of admiration for you. You may have done things they wish they were brave enough to do themselves. Perhaps even in the past they admired your reluctance to stick to the status quo or how you, unlike their peers, had little concern for what others thought. It might just be that the box they have placed themselves within, or where they have been placed by others, has become uncomfortable and restricting rather than cozy and secure. Their peers may have a lot of expectations and demand a lot of their time and energy, whilst giving very little in return. Especially if they ever accused you of toxicity, they may have opened their eyes to how giving and supportive of their growth you actually were. Those they now surround themselves with seem to need them to bend to their will and grow a specific way and at a specific rate, lots of things to keep track of and always say and do the right and correct thing, whilst you now seem like such a forgiving, understanding, and patient energy that they are sorry that they lost. They may have come across old photos or tokens of your friendship, and quietly reminisced about the past and wondered how different life could have been had they stuck by your side. Looking at you now they may feel quite stunted, lacking the experience and feeling a little lost within themselves and their life. They're running through various stages of your friendship and pondering the right and wrongs of every hiccup, and finding fault in themselves. Finally, you may even scoff. Because in many ways you were abandoned by them, you may rejoice a little bit at the thought of them at last seeing where they did wrong or not enough.

For some of you, you could hear from them in the near future. Especially if they clean up their social circle and let go of harmful influences that they have let dictate their heart and mind. For others, you may hear from them, but not very soon. They may attempt to draw motivation from you at a distance to conjure up the courage to pave their own path forward. In doing so they will in many ways follow in your footsteps, and burn many bridges. You more than anyone know the vulnerability, fear, and pain associated with the destruction before rebuilding, and if they aren't as strong as you it will take some time before they find their footing. So, maybe find it in your heart to send them an energetic thumbs up for finally shaking things up and making their own way. This may eventually lead them to cross paths with you again, and you may reconnect and reminisce together. They will come with apologies, and you will find them truer than what they could have mustered before their transformation. You may not turn back time and become inseparable again, but it feels like things will become lighter and brighter in various areas of life for the both of you after your reunion.

Additional details: Soft hair, literature, neat handwriting, cosplay, masquerade, swords, cobblestone, crows or other birds, mom friend, hometown, I/J/P/F/C/N, 1/17/20/99/23, capricorn/sagittarius/scorpio/virgo/libra, January/November/October/December, backpacks, instagram, trains, puzzles, animal crossing, family holidays or events, muted colours.

06.

Shufflemancy: Sinner by Trevi Moran

Oh my. It seems like somebody has learned that their actions have consequences. This is somebody you probably blocked or simply stopped putting up with. They seem a little arrogant and not at all careful with their words. They entertain numerous people and enjoy the spotlight. There is a strong sense of entitlement and powerlust here. It feels a little icky to be in contact with, ngl. You may miss the sparks and the fun of this connection, but they really knew how to push all the wrong buttons while they were at it, didn't they? It seems like the good was so good but the bad was so bad it drove you up the wall. You may have frequently felt cornered, with your boundaries crossed, made to feel crazy and ridiculous even if they were the ones steering the train off the rails to begin with. I hope you have healed from this, because I assure you that your reactions cannot be compared to their actions. How you act when pushed has far more justifications than their act of pushing. Some of you may have needed to hear that. This person has done much to distract from your departure. Especially at first they may have lived under the assumption that it isn't permanent. That surely you will return. If you have a history of being on-and-off to any capacity, they relied on that to eventually bring you back. That dynamic itself made them reckless with their words and actions. They felt no need to take your feelings into consideration and assumed they could do whatever they please. There is an air of superiority to them, as though they think very highly of themselves, or look down on others. Your chemistry may have been phenomenal, but you saw through their bs and knew they are not as virtuous and good as they parade themself to be. You saw a hypocrite where others see a saint. They grew increasingly aware of your absence. They checked the time, counted days and compared your prior absences. Finally it hit them that this time you may truly never return. That you were really done this time and decided to outgrow them and move on. This has kept them awake some nights. They are very good at finding themselves things to do and socialising with a wide variety of people with various intentions, so it's not like you are stuck on their mind constantly. But when their thoughts land on you, it stings and burns and does it so hard and cuts so deep. It screws with their perception of themselves. They may know they are unlike who they portray themselves as, but it seems like a hard pill to swallow to truly admit that you no longer want anything to do with them. They miss you a lot. And it is a very selfish longing, too. They may hold on to hope that you will return once more, and disgustingly enough it seems this hope is weighed less in love for you and is heavier in the need to be right and get to say 'I told you so'. They may stalk you on social media, and for those of you who have made this impossible for them to do they often wonder what has come of you. They don't know how much you have grown and how much brighter the world seems when they are no longer there hanging over your head like a raincloud. They may assume you are stuck exactly where you were when you walked away, but you never stopped walking once you took off. Every day you are healing, decluttering your life and manifesting a better reality for yourself. And your intentions are so pure and good it would truly bother them that you are the saint they try to be. Their sainthood is a ruse, their altruism full of fine print and schemes and ulterior motives. Yours is a genuine path and title earned through a heart that bleeds for the weak and weary. The two of you are like night and day, and perhaps the clash between you had gorgeous sunsets, but it's darkest of all before the dawn and you no longer wish to be consumed by darkness and have chosen to walk in the light.

Additional details: Passports, sugar, alcholic beverages, social events, charity, real estate, formal wear, chess, strategy games, J/E/T/M/K/Y/A, 22/21/12/80/85/2/8, capricorn/aries/leo/cancer/gemini/aquarius, sharks, typhoons, spreadsheets, cash, coastal area, fish, religion, tan, the little prince.

[nightingaelic]

Fallout New Vegas companions react to taking the Courier's place in Dead Money.

Arcade Gannon: Following the obligatory panic attack and subsequent state of dejection, Arcade would suck it up and start trying to get the heist done with as quickly as possible. He’d roll his eyes at Dean Domino, set aside Dog and God’s identity crisis for later and check Christine over for basic first aid purposes before trudging along toward the various goals set by Elijah. I think he’d opt for stealth over combat when encountering the ghost people out of a sense of self-preservation, but he would probably pocket some clothing and blood samples from any that Dog took down along the way to the casino. The story of the Sierra Madre would fascinate him, particularly the bits and pieces left behind by jaded treasure hunters and Elijah’s previous teams of victims. Arcade would see it as a microcosm of what’s happening in the wider world, a stellar example of partners turning on each other in pursuit of some perceived bright future attached to the hidden treasures of the old world. Vera’s desperate graffiti in her hotel room would speak to him most powerfully: LET GO. He would probably try to argue with Elijah about the viability of the former Brotherhood Elder’s plans, throwing some Latin phrasing in for good measure. No matter his level of success in this, Arcade would stow away as many gold bars as he could to lug home and use to sparingly and anonymously fund the efforts of the Followers of the Apocalypse. 

Craig Boone: During his first encounter with one of the ghost people popping up again after being downed by his sniper rifle, Boone would grunt in annoyance, swap his ammo for hollow points and switch from aiming at chests to aiming at heads. Ghost people bob and weave admirably, but Boone has a gift, and up until he actually got inside the casino, his main obstacle would be avoiding the noxious cloud. The holograms, on the other hand, would probably strike some fear into his heart. After all, how do you destroy something that bullets can’t touch? I don’t think he would put two and two together about the emitters until Christine or Dean pointed them out: From there, it just becomes a scavenger hunt to find the next piece of wall-mounted tech to shoot. Dean, Dog and God would annoy him, but he’d find a kindred spirit in Christine, and would appreciate her ability to convey meaning without words. Hell, he’s pretty good at that himself. Upon finding Elijah, Boone would immediately put a bullet in his head, look at the pile of gold for a few seconds, then walk away and out of the Sierra Madre without looking back. He’d never breathe a word of the place to anyone, but he’d track down all of the Sierra Madre broadcast systems one by one and destroy them, letting the desert swallow the place and its dangers for good. 

Lily Bowen: Grandma Lily wouldn’t understand why the angry man was so desperate to get inside the casino, but she’s more than familiar with being a forced follower of doomed causes. As such, she would be kind to her fellow captives, assuring Christine that she would be able to talk “when she’s ready,” admonishing Dean for his rude behavior and telling Elijah that he would catch more cazadores with honey mesquite than with vinegar. A trail of wrecked ghost people would follow her to the casino itself, but dealing with the holograms would be beyond her expertise: That part would have to be left to Christine or Dean. Elijah would receive a lecture once she made it into the vault, but she would probably let him live unless he attacked first. Dog and God, however, would earn the most care and compassion and even cause some introspection. Ultimately, I think she would help the two become one through intense conversation and shared understanding about what it means to be nightkin with no master, and once freed, she would take him to find a home in Jacobstown. 

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Upon waking up from being kidnapped by Dog on Elijah's behalf, Raul's immediate reaction would be something like "Again?" followed by "Carajo." Elijah’s insistence on pulling off the heist would annoy him, but Raul is constantly looking for something to occupy his unnaturally-long time on earth, and what is the Sierra Madre if not the Mojave’s most deadly time-waster? He would be sarcastic and exasperated for his entire time wearing the bomb collar, but would find ways to be tender and understanding with Christine, and patient and supportive with Dog and God - after all, he knows what it’s like to struggle with two sides of yourself. Dean, on the other hand, would vex him. Here’s another pre-war ghoul hung up on the promises and mistakes of the past, driven to the point of obsession where he can’t break himself out of the cycle. He can’t let go, and I think that doomed state of being would speak to Raul personally. I don’t think he and Dean would get along, but I don’t think they would have a final showdown in the Tampico either. Instead, I think Dean would watch Raul exit the vault’s elevator, flip one souvenir gold bar in his hand with a wry smile, then pocket it before walking out into the wastes, and the pre-war lounge singer would feel a twinge of kindred sadness before going back to rummaging through the casino’s secrets. 

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: Following a tense standoff with Elijah while refusing to do as he says, Cass would eventually relent and start dragging her feet around the villa to assemble the ragtag heist crew. She’d hold each of them at a distance, intent on getting herself out alive and refusing to be responsible for anyone else. Nods of sympathy for Christine, dry comebacks for Dean and a quizzical comment or two for Dog and God would be her limit, at least until they all encountered their turning points inside the casino. Each of them would grow her disdain for Elijah and his methods, but, like Raul, I think she would be most personally affected by Dean’s story. She might find herself arguing with him like the courier did with her, about moving on from failed pasts and striking out into something new. I don’t think she’d take the time to argue with Elijah, though, and would take the first chance she got to lock him in the vault forever. She’d make off with as much gold as she could, of course. 

Veronica Santangelo: The Sierra Madre would make Veronica's head explode, though whether or not Elijah could stand her mouth going a million miles a minute once she wakes up would determine whether that would happen literally or figuratively. Tons and tons of pre-war tech lying around! But it's all under a haze of collapsed support beams, toxic gas and ghost people that can jump around like grasshoppers. Father Elijah is alive! But he's trying to break into a casino to build an army of holograms, and he imprisoned Christine. Christine is here! But she's been maimed and abused horribly, and is trying to kill Elijah. I think Elijah would try reasoning with Veronica before threatening her into obeying him - though she would probably figure out how to get the collar off or render it useless within the first 24 hours in the Sierra Madre - but I don’t think he would be able to convince her that his plan to get inside the casino’s vault would benefit the Brotherhood of Steel. The revelations that Christine would bring - the Circle of Steel’s orders, Elijah’s crimes against travelers and treasure hunters, his orchestration of their breakup in order to bring Veronica to the Mojave with him - would probably leave her feeling confused and empty about the man she considers a grandfather figure. She would probably do her best to free Elijah from the casino, but would offer him a choice if she succeeded: Leave the treasures of the Sierra Madre behind and walk away from his accursed quest for power, or remain trapped with what he’d sought. Whatever path he’d choose, Veronica would part ways with him once the vault’s elevator ascended. She’d bundle up Vera’s dress, sigh heavily, then take Christine’s hand and walk away from the Sierra Madre forever. 

ED-E: Ironically, I think ED-E would be a good pick for Elijah to use as a pawn in his heist game, though it would be kind of hard for Dog to hook a collar onto the little robot. If Ulysses can speak to the courier through an eyebot’s speakers, then Elijah can probably do the same to his already-assembled team. ED-E doesn’t have a whole lot of personal motivation, so I think the bot would just beep and go along with whatever it was ordered to do. Christine or Dean would probably take the lead, and ED-E would zoom around the villa, dodging throwing knife spears and trumpeting his location without a care. Once inside the casino, ED-E would again defer to his leader’s orders, with the added benefit of being a robot keeping him from the holograms’ notice. If allowed into the vault, ED-E would diligently pick up exactly six of the gold bars and carry them home to the Mojave, where he would deposit them at the bewildered courier’s feet with a triumphant beep. 

Rex: While much easier to slap a collar on than ED-E, I don't think Rex would fare better than the little robot in terms of leadership abilities. As an ally to whoever gets put in charge, though, he would also be invaluable at sneaking around the Sierra Madre’s various threats, particularly the ghost people. He would take a special shine to Christine and God, who would recognize the canine as a fellow being exploited by powers out of his control. Rex would absolutely hate the holograms, who smell of nothing, and Elijah, who smells of desperation and indifference. He would completely ignore the gold bars. Once freed, he would whine and beg and nudge Christine until she relented and left the city of the dead, leading her home to the New Vegas strip and another woman whose scent told him of metal bunkers and longing. 

[clanoffetts]

someday. | paz vizsla x fem!reader

chapter I

masterlist

synopsis: Paz Vizsla finds himself stuck on Dantooine with a broken ship and no credits. Luckily, he finds you, a mechanic that will fix his ship for passage to Hosnian Prime. Over the course of your time together, a courtship blooms.

warnings/things to note: star wars swear words; reader has hints of PTSD that will be expanded on in further chapters (and those will be tagged with stronger warnings); blatant lack of knowledge of ship mechanics; only one use of ‘Y/N’

word count: 5.1k

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. Actually, one had never showed up. And this one was huge. A buff man, covered in heavy armor that had been painted blue. Even his helmet evoked fear. The townspeople were watching myth become reality. 

The large man walked into Aliria’s Shop. The shop had a name once, when Aliria’s parents had opened it, but that was some 80 years ago now. The shop had survived the Clone Wars and the Empire, not to mention the constant flow of smugglers and thieves customary to the Outer Rim. Aliria’s Shop wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. 

It was a fairly small shop, especially considering all the things packed into it. Aliria carried food, clothes, a small array of weaponry, and medical supplies. There wasn’t much in the little town, a droid mechanic, a ship mechanic, a small infirmary, and a bar. Aliria’s Shop was the hub, she had the essentials. 

The Mandalorian was like a bull in a china shop inside the store. Aliria had crammed crates, tables, and shelves into every crevice of the store. Not to mention the various pieces of merchandise hanging from the ceiling. 

“Watch it, Mandalorian!” Aliria yelled at the man as he almost hit the shelf of fruits with the huge gun on his back. She may look like a frail older woman at the age of 75, but her voice didn’t show it. Aliria’s tan skin was weathered and her body was tired, but her voice held life. She was the backbone of the community. 

The armored man let out a gruff sorry before moving on. He was looking down at his gauntlet, reading some kind of list. “Kriffing hell, how do I find anything in here?” 

“We don’t get many outsiders, Mandalorian,” she said. “But my sales associate can help you. She was an outsider once, too.”

The pitch black of his visor shifted to you. Your hair was a bit messy, as you’d just helped your co-worker unload a speeder of goods. But you smiled at him. A change of pace is always nice. You walked from behind the counter to be in front of the Mandalorian and you asked, “What are you looking for, sir?” Your customer service voice was rough, you never needed to use it with most of the customers. They knew you personally, everyone knew everyone here. 

“You got ration bars?” His voice was gruff and deep, but you couldn’t tell if that was just because of the helmet. 

“Not many,” you told him. “Maybe ten? Aliria has such good prices, no one ever needs to buy a ration bar in place of real food.” It was a sales pitch you’d been taught when training here, but it was the truth. Why pay a credit for a ration bar when you can pay a credit for instant noodles? 

He huffed a little. “I’ll take all ten.” This man was weird, you decided. “Non-perishables? Do you have any?”

“We’ve got some beans, some vegetables that won’t go bad for at least a few years, rice, and a few other things. They’re all kind of scattered around.”

“Of course they are,” he was annoyed. “Where’s the vegetables?”

You pointed through a door at the back of the shop. “Greenhouse out back. Tell me what you need, I’ll go grab it.” Reluctantly, he showed you his gauntlet. It was a grocery list. You locked the information into your mind, grabbed a basket and headed to the greenhouse. 

When you got back, he was in the same place. He must’ve seen your confusion because he said, “I’d rather not waste time looking for things myself. I figure you’d be better at it.” And you were. You helped him get everything he needed, but the list just got weirder. Baby formula, toddler sized coveralls, ammunition, a journal, and more miscellaneous items that made no sense to you. You didn’t believe a Mandalorian was going to hand write something and in a journal, no less.

You wanted to know more, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t be keen on questions. Before you’d come to Dantooine, you’d been all over the galaxy and heard stories of Mandalorians and their secrecy. 

“What brings you to Dantooine, Mando?” You ask as you ring up the last of his items, putting them in the up-cycled grain bag grocery bags. You were tired of the tense silence, Aliria had gone into the back to do Maker knows what, and the Mandalorian’s stare was unnerving. 

“Work,” he said. His visor remained unmoving, his eyes were on you. You had a feeling that ‘work’ was something either illegal or close to it. “You?”

You were surprised. And, again, he must’ve noticed. “The old lady said you are an outsider, too.”

“Was an outsider, Mando,” you correct, bringing up his total. “I came here for work, too.” He could tell you were lying, or at least not sharing the whole truth. “It’s two-hundred credits, Mando.”

He reached into a pouch on his belt, and pulled out all the credits. “That should be two-hundred.” It was. Exact change and everything. Once you’d counted the money and placed it in the register, he grabbed all his bags with ease and turned to walk out. 

“Have a nice day!” you tell him, remembering your lines Aliria insisted on. He said nothing in return.

-  

Paz Vizsla arrived back at his ship far out from the town. He put the bags of supplies for the covert in the cargo hold and cleared the message from Armorer that detailed what they needed. After the covert had to relocate, they were in desperate need of supplies. Especially for all the children who lost a buir or, Maker forbid, both buire. The children who had basically become foundlings. Paz’s heart broke for them, he tried to be the best ba’vodu, but there some things that even stories from Uncle Paz couldn’t fix. 

He’d spent the little bit of left over change from the bounty on something for each kid, even Bezza, who was old enough to be treated as an adult at seventeen. She’d lost her buire, and the least Paz could do was get her a nice, leather-bound journal that she’d been pining for. Something hard to come by in a galaxy that had moved on from physical writing. 

Paz closed the cargo hold and began moving himself towards the cockpit. He was tired, and though no one else agreed, he was getting old. Nearing 44, he was ready to just be Mr. Vizsla the teacher, Uncle Paz, and hopefully buir someday. But he was one of the Tribe’s best fighters. They needed him to keep hunting, so he did. This is the Way. 

He moved to start up the ship. It gave a groan, but lit up all the same. Paz began his takeoff procedures, but the ship wouldn’t budge. Kriff, he thought. This can’t happen. Paz Vizsla was a capable fighter, fluent in Mando’a, and a brilliant teacher, but he was no mechanic. That had always been his biggest shortcoming. I have no credits, he realized. Stuck on Dantooine with no credits. 

Dirt kicked up behind heavy boots. Hands stopped their work so heads could turn. It wasn’t often a Mandalorian showed up. But this one had now shown up twice. The awe of the townsfolk was still the same. He trudged back into Aliria’s Shop. This old woman would know someone willing to fix a ship for some food, he thought. She seems to know everything.

Except, when he walked in he was greeted by a new face. Not the saleswoman who’d helped him a few hours ago, nor was it the old woman. “How can I help you?” The boy asked. He couldn’t be more than sixteen. 

“You know anyone who’d be willing to fix a ship for a meal? Or maybe a small blaster?”

The kid shook his head. “No one around here is that desperate. I’ll go get Aliria, though. She might know someone I don’t.” The kid retreated into the back room without fully taking his eyes off Paz. 

When he returned, he had Aliria hobbling along next to him, bony hands around his arm. “Zenith says you need a mechanic? There’s a shop down the road but what he charges won’t be worth what you get,” the woman says. 

“I need someone who will work for something other than credits,” he says. “I don’t have any.”

You looked up from the datapad in the backroom. You had experience as a mechanic, you were rusty after all these years, but better than the other option, who probably learned by seeing a few pictures on the holonet. Maybe this was your ticket back out of the Outer Rim. You’d amassed enough credits to at least get an apartment for a bit until you can get work. Core Worlds always had open jobs, and you have connections. You hated to leave the little town, but it had always been the goal. You just thought it’d be many more years. 

You stepped out of the back room. “I’ll do it, Mando. I’ve got experience, I can probably fix it.” Zenith seemed surprised, but Aliria just smiled.

“I can’t pay,” he reiterated. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, you’ve said. We’ll negotiate the price on the way to your ship. You got tools?” He nodded. “I’ll be back tonight, Aliria. I’ll finish up inventory then.” The old woman told you not to worry about it and shooed both of you off, ready to get back to whatever she was up to in the storage room. 

As soon as the door shut behind you, you said, “Passage to Hosnian Prime. That’s all I’m asking.”

“Hosnian Prime? Do you know how long it’s going to take me to get from Dantooine to Hosnian Prime?” He was annoyed. The ship must be having a minor issue, but you were wanting a major payment. “And so far out of my way, my home is in the Outer Rim. And I’ll have no credits to refuel.”

Now you were the annoyed one. “I’m fixing your ship, Mando. You said anything but credits. My offer is passage to Hosnian Prime for the fixing of your ship.”

“How do I know you can even fix my ship? Why aren’t you the town mechanic?”

This wasn’t something you wanted to get into. You hadn’t talked about it in so long. Not since you got to Dantooine and Aliria took you in, vowing to help you back to wherever you wanted to be. “I was done being a mechanic, Mando, that’s why.”

“So you decided to work in a dingy little shop? With the galaxy’s oldest woman?”

You felt anger grow stem from the seed of annoyance. Aliria was like your grandmother. Like the whole town’s grandmother. And here comes an outsider, insulting Aliria’s shop. Aliria’s family built that town from the ground up. And this outsider insults her. “Do not speak of Aliria or her shop like that again, Mando. Or I won’t fix your ship and you’ll be stuck on Dantooine forever.”

Paz felt bad. He’d cut too deep, he’d only meant it to be a friendly dig about your job, a job most people weren’t ever satisfied with. He’d thought you’d laugh. He’d thought wrong. You walked in silence the rest of the way. 

“This is your ship?” you asked. No wonder it wouldn’t get off the ground. “Maker, Mando, what have you put this thing through?” It was dented, covered in carbon scoring, and there were chunks of it missing. You could only guess how bad the inner workings were. 

“A few altercations,” he replied. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was looking at this sorry excuse for a Mandalorian’s ship with love and pride. 

You laughed a little and shook your head. “I haven’t even looked at the wiring, but I think taking me to Hosnian Prime is the absolute least you could do for the work I’m going to have to do on this thing.”

“I just need it to fly,” he told you. “Nothing fancy.”

“Mando, this thing is going to pull itself apart when you try to leave the atmosphere. I’m surprised it even made it through,” you told him. 

The ship always groaned a little when Paz asked it to do things, but it always had obeyed. Without fail. Until now, of course. “It did sound a bit...pained when I arrived.” He left out the whole being fired at by ex-Imps and the harsh landing he’d made that’d landed him here. 

“Alright, I’ll go take a look, if that’s ok? And I’ll try to tell you when I think I’ll have it done.” He nodded, and pushed a button on his gauntlet, giving you access to the ship. 

-

“Bad news and good news,” you told him as you reemerged from the ship. “Bad news is this is a piece of junk and you should replace it. Good news is I can fix it and it’ll only take a few days.”

A few days. He needed to get these things back to the covert, they needed them. “Ok,” he said. “But before I take you to Hosnian Prime, we’ll need to make a pit stop on Yavin IV. I gotta get these supplies back.” You nodded, just as long as you’d be getting to Hosnian Prime at some point. 

“I’ll get started, if that’s ok?” He nodded and you retreated back inside. The external damage wasn’t as crucial as the internal, your job was going to be rough.

It was a long, hard rest of your day. The blasted ship held the humidity of the planet tightly and your coveralls were thick. You’d brought down the top half to tie around your waist, leaving you in your tank top and bra. You caught glimpses of the Mandalorian as you moved past the port holes, and he just sat there on a rock, not moving. All day. You couldn’t imagine the heat under that armor. 

When you came out of the ship again, it was night. “I’ve made good progress. It won’t be done tomorrow, but maybe the day after. If I’m lucky, of course.” And worked almost non-stop, you silently added.

“Good,” he says. “Go home and rest, dal’ika.”

You furrowed your brow. “My name isn’t dal’ika.” 

“I know,” he said, and then he moved past you onto his ship. 

“Good night to you, too!” You called. 

- 

You walked to Aliria’s small home once you got back into town. She deserved to know your plans, you thought. She’d probably even help. 

“Ah! Dear! You’re back!” she said. “I was worried the Mandalorian would take you, but then I figured you’d comm if he’d try anything.”

You smiled. “He didn’t do much of anything. Just sat there.”

“What did you tell him your price is, dear?” 

You took a deep breath and sat on the sofa next to her. “Passage to Hosnian Prime.”

“You’re leaving?”

You nodded. “It’s time,” you said. “I have enough credits, especially since I won’t have to pay for transportation.”

“What will you do there, dear?” Aliria was worried. You were a grown woman, yes, but she felt protective. 

“Find General Organa,” you said. “See if she keeps promises.” You knew she would. She always had.

Aliria gave a bittersweet smile. “I knew you’d leave someday, but I never thought of how it would feel.” Her heart was breaking, and so was yours. This woman took you in when you showed up a mess on Dantooine, she held you during nightmares, and she helped you buy the little hut you now call your own. She gave you a job and a place in the community. “You’ll do much good on Hosnian Prime, dear. I know you will.”

You didn’t know what she meant, but somehow you believed her. “Thank you, Aliria. Thank you.” You couldn’t seem to say anything else, but it wasn’t adequate to what you were feeling. You needed a stronger phrase, but you didn’t know one.

“Take care of that Mandalorian, now,” she said, trying to be a bit more lighthearted. “I’ve always thought you’d like a warrior husband.”

You rolled your eyes. All the old women in town were like this. “He barely even talks to me and calls me dal’ika instead of my name, which he hasn’t asked for, by the way.”

“He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure. Especially if he’s got to take you from here to Hosnian Prime,” Aliria said. “You didn’t talk much when you arrived, either, remember?”

Aliria always had a way of finding the good in people, even if it was hardly there. That was rare, especially this far out in the galaxy, and you cherished it. You’d learned early on not to do that, but Aliria helped you open up more. Maybe she was right, this journey would result in a new friend.

“Ok, Ali, I will take care of the Mando,” you said. “Now I think I’m going to go home. Want to be up early tomorrow to fix his ship.”

She nodded and patted your knee. “Take the speeder bike tomorrow, it seems like a long walk.” You nodded, and placed your hand over hers for a moment. “Good night, dear. Sleep well,” she said and then she shooed you out in the way only an old lady could.

-

The next morning it was cooler outside. The trees swayed gently in the soft wind, and you became grateful for the coveralls as you picked up speed on the bike. You looked the same as you did the day before, just a little less rested. There was a little sunlight, but not much, and there were still a few nocturnal animals on the path. 

Arriving at the ship, everything was still closed up, and the big Mando nowhere in sight. You contemplated banging on the door, but before you made a decision the door lowered into a ramp and he walked out. “You’re very early, dal’ika.” 

“Told you I would be. Need all the daylight I can get.”

“Indeed.”

His gaze bore down on you again. You really took in how large he was. He had to be over six feet tall and maybe even closer to seven in the armor. A few people in town speculated that he wasn’t actually as buff as he seemed and that it was just the armor, but you doubted that. 

“I’ll go ahead and get started, if that’s ok?” 

He nodded. “You don’t have to keep asking, dal’ika.”

“That’s still not my name,” you said in a singsong voice over your shoulder as you walked up the ramp. He walked over towards some of the denser areas of trees.

You tried to watch him as discreetly as possible through one of the port holes, but you had a suspicion that, somehow, he could tell you were watching. He walked over some of the logs of fallen trees that had piled up towards the edge of the clearing. He picked two large ones, one in each arm, and set them upright. Then, he placed the large stones on the top of and behind them to keep them standing. 

He retreated a few yards, and his hands slid down to his thighs. He brought two blasters back up. Ah, you thought. Target practice. 

As much as you knew you needed to begin your day’s work, you stood at the port hole and watched him fire blast after blast, and you knew he hit each spot he intended to. He moved back farther, fired some more, and then moved off at angles. You never thought you’d be attracted to a man whose face you’d never seen and name you didn’t know, but here you are. 

Finally, you tore your gaze from the beskar-covered man and began your work, getting the tool box from where you’d left it yesterday. 

-

It was noon when you walked down the ramp again. The Mandalorian had finished his shooting hours ago, and had now shed his shin and thigh armor, along with the heavy cannon he carried on his back. He was already looking at you when you stepped into the doorway. 

“Need something, dal’ika?” 

You shook your head. “Lunch time, Mando.” You pulled some kind of bar out of your pocket. “It’s got meiloorun filling,” you brag. 

“Sounds good,” he said, a little amused at what you considered something to brag about. 

You sat down on the rock opposite him. “You want one? I’ve got an extra.”

“No, thank you, dal’ika,” he replied. 

You sunk your teeth into the grain and meiloorun bar, chewed, and swallowed. “What language even is that?”

“Mando’a,” he said. “The language of my people.”

“The Mandalorians?” You ask dumbly.

He let out a chuckle, it was small, but the vocoder processed it. “Yes, dal’ika, but I thought that was obvious.”

“What’s that mean? That word you’re calling me?”

He contemplated for a moment, but finally told you. “Dal’ika means woman in Mando’a. Well, dala means woman. The ‘ika bit just means it's a nickname. It implies that you’re, well, small. It’s used for kids a lot but also for friends.” He regretted saying that, in case you found it insulting or weird. He quickly moved on. “And I definitely consider you more than an acquaintance, especially since we’ll be spending some time together.”

You looked at him. You’d never thought of yourself as small. “Well, that’s good to hear. And I think everyone is small next to you, Mando.”

He laughed again, and you took another bite. “I suppose so. What is your actual name?” You tell him, and he nods. “I can call you that, if you’d like?”

“Dal’ika is fine,” you say. You’d never really had a nickname before. “But you can call me my name, too, if you want.”

“Ok, dal’ika,” he said. “Where are you from?”

You looked at him. Why all the questions? You briefly thought of home, but closed your eyes. “Rather not say.”

He nodded, understanding. “I’m sorry that I keep saying the wrong things. I really should know better, considering I don’t like too many questions, either.”

“It’s ok, it’s not like you know what will strike a cord,” you tell him. You hurriedly finished your lunch, eager to get back on the ship in case memories of home flooded back into your mind and tears flooded your eyes. “Well, I’m off,” you say, standing awkwardly and walking back to the ship, leaving the Mando by himself again. 

You sat on the floor of the ship, one of the flooring panels removed, working on some wiring. In the back of your mind you saw your childhood home, the mountain peaks you could see from the backyard, and the neighbor kids that you’d played with every day after school. You remembered leaving. You remembered never being able to go back. 

Your hands are still in the wire compartment in the floor. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and smiled to yourself. Aliria always said smiling makes you feel better. It worked, and your hands began moving again, replacing and connecting wires.

-

Again, it was nightfall when you came out of the ship. The Mandalorian had all his armor on again, and he stood as you emerged. “I should’ve walked you home last night, dal’ika. It was dark when you left, I’m sorry for not offering.”

You felt your heart swell a little. He was a gentle giant, you decided. “Thank you, Mando, but I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s not like there’s dangerous people here.”

“Still,” he insisted. “I should have.”

You gave up and replied, “That would’ve been a kind gesture. I would take you up on the offer tonight, but Aliria lent me her speeder, so I don’t need an escort today.”

“As you wish,” he replied. “Just be careful, dal’ika. Hosnian Prime awaits.” He walked past you and onto the ship, just like he had the night before. 

-

The next day was almost the same, except you had to walk. Aliria needed the speeder for Zenith and supplies he was picking up from a nearby farm, but apart from that, everything was the same. You made small talk with the Mandalorian over your lunch (a star fruit bar today), and  watched him shoot his blasters from afar. You got a lot of work done today, most of the hard stuff was finished and now just needed some tweaking. You moved on to the exterior of the ship a few hours before nightfall. 

“Dal’ika,” he said as you started working on the exterior. “Only do what you absolutely need to on the outside. I’d hate to see your hard work go to waste when I get into another altercation.” 

You nodded, but replied, “I hope you don’t plan on getting into one of your altercations while I’m aboard.”

“Well, I never really plan on them, but I’ll be extra careful if it makes you feel better,” he told you. 

You smiled. “It does.”

“It’s going to get dark soon,” he said.

You nodded, opening one of the exterior panels and examining it. “I know. I just have a few more things,” you assured him. “And then I’ll take you up on your offer to walk me home.” You turned your head towards him and smiled, but what you didn’t know was that your smile brought the slightest blush to his cheeks. 

Paz sat back down on his rock while you worked on the exterior. He thought about the smile you’d given him, how you weren’t afraid of him. There’s something more to this one, he thought. Something’s made her tough, and it wasn’t this village.

Finally, you finished. “Alright,” you told the Mando as you exited the ship after putting the tools up. “It should fly, but we can test that tomorrow. For now, I need to go home.”

He nodded and stood from the rock. “Lead the way, mechanic,” he said. 

You walked a pace or two in front of him, even though he didn’t really need to be led to the town. It wasn’t like there were many of those around here, but he let you, and you rambled about the place with pride. About Aliria with pride. 

After a few beats of silence, he spoke up. “May I ask what’s on Hosnian Prime? If you don’t want to answer, just tell me.”

“An old friend,” you said and looked back at him again. This smile was different, he noticed, but he wasn’t sure how. “I haven’t seen her in a long time, but I know she still cares.” You were telling him the truth, so why did you feel like you were lying? He didn’t need to know that General Organa was the friend or why you knew her. But you almost wanted him to know. Still, you held back. 

“Oh,” he said. “Sounds nice. I’ve heard good things about Hosnian Prime.” Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything about Hosnian Prime except that it was the new capital of the New Republic. 

“I have, too,” you agreed. “What about you? What’s on Yavin IV?”

“Family,” he said. He was telling the truth, so why did he feel like he was lying? And why was he trusting you with the planet of the covert? 

You nodded. “I figured, with all the baby stuff you bought. Is your wife a Mandalorian, too? I heard Mandos can only marry Mandos.”

He was shocked a little, forgetting that you didn’t know much about his culture. “No, I don’t have a wife. Or kids of my own. My Tribe is my family, and there are kids in the Tribe. They’re just not mine.”

“Oh, interesting,” you said, kicking a rock in front of you. You were surprised to find yourself relieved that he did not have a wife. “So, like, can you only marry inside your tribe?”

“No, dal’ika,” he laughed. “We’d end up with some interesting children if we kept it in the tribe. Some people marry within the tribe, some never marry, and others marry outsiders.” He didn’t really know how accurate his answer was. Maybe, in big tribes, people did just marry in the tribe. But the covert he belonged to was too small for that. 

You kicked the rock again as you arrived at the place it had landed. “Huh,” you said. “Guess I never thought about that.” 

“We prefer people not think about us at all,” he replied. His tone was solemn when he said this, and you instinctively placed a hand on his armored arm to comfort him. The Mandalorian was brought to a blush under his helmet again. Maker, he thought. How’s she doing this to me?

You walked into the town in comfortable silence, your arm now wrapped around his, fingers lightly rubbing the armor. It was meant as a soothing technique, but you doubt he could feel it under the layers of metal and cloth. Eventually, you neared your home. “That one’s mine,” you pointed. The house’s door was painted blue, and your flowerbed was filled with blue flowers. 

“Your house matches my armor, kebiin’ika,” he said.

A new nickname. “What’s that mean?”

“Kebiin is blue. And, you know, ‘ika is ‘small’ and an endearment.” 

“Little blue?” You ask.

He nodded. “Ding, ding, ding,” he said. “You’d pick up Mando’a quickly, I think.” You smiled at him, you spoke Basic and Huttese already, why not learn a third? He smiled back, though all you could see was metal and visor. “Are we leaving tomorrow?” 

“Yes, I think that’d be good. Tomorrow after lunch, maybe? I’ve got to pack up my stuff and say good-bye to everyone.” He nodded. He’d forgotten that you’re leaving your life behind. “I don’t have much stuff, by the way, so don’t worry about that.”

He chuckled again. “Even if you did, I wouldn’t worry. We’d find the space.” There was a warmth in his voice that made your whole body warm. You could tell he cared about the people close to him deeply if he cared about a stranger like this.

You unlocked your door and stepped inside. You weren’t expecting a good night, as you had no reason to, but you did stop yourself from closing the door all the way.

You looked up at him through the half-open blue door. “Thank you,” you said quietly. “For walking me home. It’s very kind.”

“You deserve kindness, Y/N,” he replies, as if it was painfully obvious. Then, you realized he said your name. Your real name, not some Mandalorian nickname. 

You smiled again, your lips were beginning to hurt but your face wouldn’t let you stop. “Will I ever get to know your name, Mando?”

“Someday.”

[lifesabe-ch]

josslyn - jj m. (pt. 2)

summary: based off the song josslyn by Olivia O’Brien. You and JJ have a friends with benefits relationship, but when he slips up, you realize you’ve changed your mind

pairings: jj maybank x reader

warnings: mentions of cheating

a/n: pt. 2!! here it is guys!! the beginning is inspired by a cheating quote I found on here but I can't find it so if you know what I'm talking about, pls lmk so I can give credit 

PART 1

You didn’t know what time it was. You had woken up what felt like hours ago, but you hadn’t moved. You watched the sunlight dance against your curtains, peaking through only where your blinds permitted it to and hitting the wall. You traced the makeup lines that were smudged onto your pillow, no doubt the rest occupying your face in a similar way.

You felt weak. Your mind hurt, so your body mirrored the feeling. It was like there was a hole in your chest, a vacancy where your heart used to be. You had given him everything... and he broke you. You were feeling it.

You only got up when you had to pee. Your steps were slow and measured, not exerting more energy than needed to. You found your mind wandering to the contents of your bathroom. One of his hats was still here, left haphazardly on your bathroom counter. You picked it up after you had finished, turning it gingerly over in your hands. Bringing your eyes up to meet your own in the mirror's reflection, you winced. You looked disgusting. The makeup you had spent so long applying perfectly yesterday was now everywhere. Your hair looked greasy. And your face... god. You could understand why he did it. Why he cheated on you. Throwing a towel at your reflection, you trudged back to bed, his hat still in hand. You didn’t want to sleep, but you didn’t want to go on with your life. Not today. The warmth of your covers was just so inviting, so sheltering from the truth. You didn’t even bother turning on the lights.

You only got up again around 4pm. You hadn’t eaten, you realized. You made it all the way to the kitchen, even opened the fridge, before you stopped. You were thinking of him again.

He had bought you those blueberries a few days ago. You only stare at the container, pondering over the deeper meaning you convinced yourself it had. Maybe he was warning you. Maybe the black and blues stood for bruises. Maybe he was trying to tell you that you’d be hurt by him. Not physically... but mentally. You change your mind, closing the fridge and heading back to your bed. You weren’t hungry anyway, you decided.

As you plop yourself down against the mattress, you grab your phone from the night stand. You ignore the missed calls and texts, scrolling past your notifications to instead open up your social media. Your fingers ghost the screen as you hover over his profile, staring at the photos he had shared. They’re soon finding their way through his comments and likes and you realize that you can’t help it. You felt like an idiot for not doing this before. For not realizing that you weren’t his only girl, that you never had been.

You push yourself up once again, this time with a goal in mind. You bustle around the room, laundry basket in hand as you throw various items of his that he’d left at your place into it. You don’t want them, you tell yourself. You’ll give them to his friends, or donate them if you have too. But they couldn’t stay here. After you had finished, you sat on the edge of your bed, looking around. You grabbed your phone and pulled up his page again, but this time, to block him. You made sure all of his accounts were unreachable, and that any pictures you may have had posted with him were archived.

You were done. As you tucked yourself in that night, you ignored the way the sinking feeling still hadn’t gone anyway. Maybe it was something else, your brain offered. But you knew. You knew better.

You hadn’t slept for long when your restlessness had woken you up again. Your sheets were kicked to the floor, but your legs were cold. Your whole body felt cold. You missed him.

You can’t help but pull the pillow he’d used one too many times to your chest, inhaling lightly. It didn’t smell like him, you’d washed your sheets, but you pretended it did. You pulled your phone out too then, unblocking his profiles and re-scrolling like before.

This cycle lasted for days. Each time you thought you were moving past it, each time you felt yourself forgetting, you missed him again. You blamed yourself. You even texted him a few apologies. He never responded. And soon, neither did you.

The roles reversed. As you started to get better, JJ started to get worse. He couldn’t sleep, wondering if you still missed him like he missed you. He wasn’t even that hungry anymore, avoiding most of the things you had stocked his kitchen with. He had even cancelled plans with his friends.

He was desperate.

While you gathered his things to give back, he gathered yours to reminisce.

He missed you. The way you’d come over when he had a nightmare about his dad and hold him until he fell asleep. The way your smile always made his heart flutter. The ways his arms fit perfectly around you, almost as if you were made for him.

He wanted you back. He needed you back. Each moment he spent alone reminded him of that. He didn’t want Josslyn. He didn’t want any of the other girls. All he wanted was you.

And he was a wreck.

THE two of you hadn’t seen each other in months, the last time having been that day. You had a rough go of it, but you were better.

You had built yourself back up, retaught yourself your worth, and reminded yourself that you didn’t need anyone else to be happy. And you didn’t.

You had spent your time apart from JJ having one of the best summers of your life. You were with your friends. The friends you’d nearly forgotten about, always too worried with keeping the blonde haired boy happy. You’d even gotten yourself another job, keeping a steady income while still managing to do what you loved. You weren’t completely healed, but you were getting there. Seeing JJ only confirmed that.

He had noticed your first, his eyes piercing as he watched you and your friends laugh from across the restaurant. You were glowing. You were happy.  

JJ was moping, taking up the offer on a double date with John B. that the boy insisted would lift his spirits. Truth be told, he hadn’t looked over at his date more than a handful of times, even less after he’d taken note of you.

It took longer for your eyes to drift over to his. A friend had pointed out your stalker to you, the group sharing a laugh, only your sharp intake of breath cutting the joke short. You knew he came here. You knew you had a chance of seeing him... you just didn’t expect it. You had stopped showing up places in hopes of bumping into him. This was purely coincidental. But you didn’t mind. As you saw him, you realized that you were okay. You even managed to flash him a polite smile before turning back towards your group.

You had felt like your world had crumbled around you. Like things would never get better. But they had. You hadn’t forgotten him, and your feelings hadn’t disappeared, but you acknowledged that it wasn’t meant to be. You were at peace with it.

From across the small diner, JJ’s mind was pulling him in the opposite direction. He had caught your smile, but he hadn’t taken it as a sign of forgiveness, but rather an invitation for a second chance.

You missed him too, he decided. He even told John B. so before getting up and making his way over to your table.

“Hi.”

It was silent. It wasn’t, not completely, but it may of well have been. Your friends hadn’t stopped their conversations, instead just continuing in much more exaggerated tones. They were listening to each other, but more so to you.

It was a simple greeting for a complicated conversation, but you figured it was as good a place as any to start.

“Hey.”

“Can we talk?”

Awkwardly glancing between JJ and your friends, you mutely nodded. You didn’t want to talk, but you wanted to hear him out. Not that you owed it to him, but rather to yourself. You needed to hear whatever he had to say to you.

He had led you outside and down to the pier near the back of the restaurant. There weren't many people around, save for the few employees coming in and out every so often.

As you leaned against the rail, you crossed your arms over your chest protectively. You allowed yourself to take him in. He looked like the same boy from before, but tired. The bags under his eyes weren’t subtle and his hair was a mess. You wanted to reach out and fix it, ask him what nightmares were keeping him awake now, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t your place anymore.

“What did you want to talk about?”

“I miss you,” he blurts, clearly not interested in any type of chitchat. “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I miss you, Y/N. Fuck, I miss you so much.”

You were silent as you watched him pull his fingers through his own hair, pacing slightly before you.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I go to sleep, and you’re there. I wake up, and you’re there. I’m surfing, and you’re there. Except, you’re not. You’re never really there, Y/N, and I really want you to be.”

He stared down at his feet for a few seconds, glancing up only after you hadn’t responded, “Say something. Please. I... I can’t imagine being with anyone other than you.”

“But you were,” You words were quiet, surprising even yourself. “You were with someone other than me. That’s why we’re where we are now.”

“But that didn’t mean anything, Y/N. I know now, you’re the one that matters. I love you. I want to be you, only you.”

His words hit you with their full meaning almost instantly. If he had caught you a month or two ago, you’d have jumped into his arms. You would’ve been his and his alone and that would’ve been that. He had never said I love you to you, not in the way he had just used it. It had been strictly platonic, even as the two of you were hooking up, he made sure of it. You should’ve been happy. But you weren’t.

“It’s too late, JJ.”

Ignoring the way he looked at you, you continued, shrugging your shoulders in defense, “It’s too late for that.”

He didn’t seem to know what to say. You didn’t think there was anything left to say. You started your ascent back towards the ramp when you felt his hands on your wrist, spinning you to face him.

“That night,” he practically whispered, his eyes soft as they met yours, “The one where we were on my couch. We had just spent all day together, just the two of us, for the first time. We were high, remember? You told me you loved me... you... you told me you loved me and that you meant it. Do you still love me?”

You didn’t answer. You felt like you couldn’t. You were left just watching him, gears turning in your head as you tried to figure out a response.

Noting your struggle, he continued, “I didn’t say it back because I didn’t know how I felt. But I do now. I love you. If... if you still love me, we can make this work.”

Your heart ached. You had missed JJ. He was your best friend. Your world. But he shattered you in a second, without so much as another thought.

“Of course I still love you.”

Ignoring his hopeful smile, you pulled your hand from his grip, stepping back, “But there’s a difference between you and me. I knew I loved you that day. All it took was a day together for me to realize how I felt. You... you had to sleep with someone else, JJ. You told me that you didn’t even think about me when you were with her.”

You could see the guilt on his features, but you couldn’t stop.

“You let me walk out that door. And you didn’t care. I called you. I texted you. I can’t even remember how many times I told you I was sorry. Do you know how many times you said it?”

He shook his head silently, watching as you sadly smiled.

“Not once. You never apologized for hurting me, but I apologized countless times for being upset about it. That’s not love, JJ. Someone who loves someone else wouldn’t hurt them like that.”

As you turned to walk back towards the door, you heard him shuffle up the ramp beside you.

“I’m sorry.”

Glancing over at him as you let the door finish closing the space between the two of you, you muttered two words that broke him. He hadn’t even needed to hear you say them to know what words your lips were forming. He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want things to be over, for good. But for you, they already were.

“Too late.”

tag list :

@heda-mikaelson​ , @fangirlwithme​

[mistraliprincess]

A Long Frozen Treasure

Don’t feel like I’ll be completing this at any point, to be honest, and it really doesn’t feel like anyone would totally care at this point. Just going to post it as it is, and if I ever do recover enough of a muse or motivation to come back to it, or to keep writing Kem’ at all, I’ll do a second part.

That muticolored shade... again. A fragment of herself jerking backward, away from the vibrant figure ahead of her and back to the city under siege of Grimm behind. It’s voice telling her repeatedly to stay away from the thing, to avoid it at all costs, all with a tone of fear to his voice. She had no fear of it, however, not now, not in this barren, cold land as she trudged onward to the mountain through a light snow storm, and with cover of her mists to keep her unnoticed by the beasts. 

The howling winds joined by shrieks from back in the direction of Atlas and Mantle, and explosions from both the Kingdom and the mountain that was her goal. Something had happened earlier, according to others, some explosion that set off the masses of dust that sat embedded beneath the earthly construct itself. Some still going off, even now, she could hear it, and see the various bursts of color rising above her fog cover. 

Yet, something had to be there, even after all the damage that had likely been done. She could feel the pull of it, a natural-feeling urge to go to what remains of the mountain. To find and obtain something which lies beneath, assumedly in the rubble. Or possibly now made available once more due to the destruction. It only aided her decision to do so when the multicolor figure began appearing before her, lingering as she made her way closer and closer, only to disappear whenever she got within a few feet. The being appearing again in the distance to repeat the process as she moves, like it’s trying to guide her to the mountain with her limited vision.

Kemuri felt she should possibly be grateful for her false eye, more so than she ever had been before. Without it, she wouldn’t be able to see the Aura-based figure that had been making itself present for a while now. Not only for  that, but for the multicolor shade’s presence. Not only did it seem to be guiding her, it was aiding in preventing her from being attacked by any of the many Grimm which rushed for the Kingdom past her, drawn by some force themselves. 

There’d been a few times now that she had seen some dark form quickly approaching from ahead of her among the dim sight that was the norm with her right eye. A shadow in her Semblance formed fog matching the same figure in her left, only for her to catch sight of the unknown form setting between herself and the approaching creature, making it hurt and adjust it’s path to go around and past the Huntress. Between it’s aid, and her Semblance, the only hinderance was the cold and the wind, which she pushed through with very careful, light use of the Branch of Flame within her Family’s Semblance to warm herself, and proper breathing to transition from it to that of Mist to renew the veil around her.

It took another hour before the Qilin found herself eyeing the mass of a mountain that once stood taller. Taking in her mist again to allow herself proper sight of what once was an in-tact mining site, but now was no more than a mess. Part of it lit aflame or electrified, some parts frozen over in massive spires of ice, and others even floating off the ground. The entrance to the mountain, likely having once been a uniform opening made by hand and tool, now a gaping maw of stone in various states because of the explosion. 

A keen eye, however, spots her a way in, past what rubble was in the way between herself and whatever was pulling her to it. One looking to be a tight fit through between three masses of rock that had fallen into place, which she could tell she could make her way through, even if it might make her chest a little sore. Though, she wouldn’t be able to bring Fractured Chrystal with her, it’s much too tall for how she’d have to enter through the opening. Something she was a little hesitant to do, but felt she should be fine with doing given how little chance there was that any Grimm survived the explosion that had occurred.

With a breath taken, and her large blade removed from her back to be rested against the larger of the three rocks around the entrance, she lowers herself close to the ground, eyeing the small opening ahead of her, and sets her hand to the cold rock beneath her to start leading herself in through the opening. Having to turn her body to squeeze through the tightest point while side-ways, with a slight groan as her chest is squeezed, but she manages through and out the other side soon enough. Taking a breath afterward as she lets the soreness in her chest ease and for her breathing to calm again. 

The area she looks out over that sits awaiting her is small, cramped by many of the smaller pieces of the mountain that had collapsed inward. A long moment, she can’t actually see a way through, not any that looks worthwhile or safe in any way. Especially not as, with the sound of an explosion close by and the smell of smoke, assumedly from a Fire Dust vein exploding, makes one of the small passages collapse, and makes a stone above her shift to make her space smaller.

A brief instance of fear takes her, but it’s quickly replaced when she feels that familiar tug of something within her trying to leave this place. To move away from something else, which she’s come to understand as a sign of the unknown figure’s presence. Turning her eyes about her surroundings, it takes a moment more for her to finally spot it. The brightly colored being standing like the height of the space is no problem whatsoever to it. Yet, more importantly, she spots it’s hand, extended and gesturing toward  an opening she can slip through, one which leads to a descent.

Kemuri approaches the space cautiously, the being vanishing as she gets within a foot from the opening, and she peers down the path it leads. A tunnel, dimly lit by some of the agitated Dust running the rock surfaces, but the bottom of it frozen over with a thin, yet noticeable layer of ice. One which, at her touch, her hand slides easily. This in mind, the Faunus adjusts, twists her body, fitting her feet into the opening, letting her legs down, and with one more deep breath she guides herself down and lets free. 

Her descent along the tunnel picks up speed quickly, even with how shallow the downward angle is, yet she finds it twisting some to the left. Bringing her just partly away from the mountain as she continues down and down and down. Some portions growing completely dark even, with gaps in the Dust veins before they return, at a few points even being replaced with electrical Dust, and one instance even gravity Dust, though brief, which pulls at her scarf and coat as she passes it, but she contains both articles without issue. 

The only bump in her path being a figurative one as, on her way, she feels a small bit of stone which likely was extended out from the roof of this tunnel scrape at her horn, just as she drops her head back to try and avoid it. Exhaling in a sigh before taking in a deep breath as the makeshift ‘slide’ continues, having unknowingly been holding in the one she took before beginning down.

It’s to her relief that she finds the end of the tunnel cone to sight past her feet and closing in fast. Soon enough, the small space she’s been sliding through opens up, giving way to a wider room which is much, much darker than the tunnel prior had been. Only a few veins of the Dust which filled the mountain and the path she had slid through being visible right near the end of it, providing just a small sum of light. Dim, low, but more than enough for the Qilin to make out shapes.

First of which, what looks to be the end of the slope she had been sliding along, the path curling upward along the wall to the right, giving way below her to drop to the floor of this new chamber. Preparing herself, she rolls close to it’s end to control her drop and catch herself on her feet upon the floor. Rising to a knee where she sees the second shape of note, a shrine of sort. One akin to that which sits in the corner of the garden back home.

This shrine is small, however, set right into a little concave opening within the wall of this opening under the mountain. Almost looking like it’s a part of the surrounding rock even, which is a little odd to see with the way it looks like it should be separate from the rock. It took her a moment to even notice the finer details, like the depiction of a Qilin upon it’s door, but it takes a moment more before, with a blink, she sees the multicolor figure standing before her. Between herself and the shrine, less like a guide as it had been before, and more akin to a wall now.

The Huntress able to feel like the thing was staring her down, ready to strike her, to kill her.  A feeling much like that she’d felt back against the shade when she first got transported to that unusual pocket of existence. One which, as she made her way to the mountain, she was sure the lay of the land matched that of the battlefield from then perfectly.

Yet last she fought, it took little time for her to lose to the Shade, and she could remember the pain of that stab into her heart perfectly. Could still see and feel the horrid scar the attack left as well. A mark on her body she didn’t feel she could ever be proud of in the slightest. Given how much the Shade that did such a thing to her feared this being, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to manage a victory against it. Certainly not like she had tried to against the other.

[yentotajaan]

Prison Break

Yen’to was not feeling particularly enthusiastic about this latest job as he stood stewing in a cramped prison cell with four other compatriots. Khan’s latest caper involved getting arrested under false identities and crimes in order to break someone important out of prison. Why in Eorzea did I sign up for this, again? It might be easier to find someone who can grow a gil tree. Khan, in the guise of a guard, had overseen their processing; yet it had still not been particularly pleasant. Letting out a grunt of annoyance, Yen’to glanced around to take stock of the other fools who had been desperate enough to sign up. There were two who had helped with the castrum fiasco job: Strega and Aly. Well... I know they are capable. Strange, but capable. The other two were familiar but unknown: Fiona and Victor, associates of Aly in some manner. One is a patron at the bistro she works at and the other is a cook and waitress... Twelve help us.

As they discussed amongst themselves what the job might entail, Khan finally entered the holding area. According to him, they would be transported to a loosely run prison to find someone named the Jungle Broker. It seemed he was getting a bit too powerful for the comfort of some, and they wanted him out so they could find out what he knew. Or eliminate him? Whatever, our only concern will be to get him out or the information he has. They would need to rely on their wits to get this mission accomplished, since they were going in with nothing but the shoddy clothes on their backs. At least I thought ahead to change my hair and face paint. There is no way I am going to end up on a guild wanted poster and have Fable after me.

Now fully briefed, Khan escorted the ragtag group to the prison proper. It was unlike anything Yen’to had seen or heard of. The guards maintained a presence only at the tops of enormous walls, while the interior was nothing but crumbling buildings and criminals left to their own devices. In the time it took Yen’to to collect his thoughts, two prisoners had already been stabbed. Criminals policing themselves... wonderful. He warned the others to stick together as they tried to find their first contact. They did not have to wait long, since soon a very peculiar yet expected whistling tune caught their attention from nearby.

They cautiously made their way over to the source, which turned out to be a group of three women who were weaving. A sea wolf roegadyn spoke up, identifying herself as Khan’s contact. This feels almost too easy. Much to Yen’to’s annoyance, it quickly became clear that she did not know their target firsthand. Instead, she knew someone who did and directed them to a highlander male further in the prison who more assuredly would know where the Jungle Broker was. She claimed that he would not give up the information willingly, and that they would need to... coax it out of him. For Twelve’s sake - I knew this was too good to be true!

Off they went, armed with a new goal but little else. That soon changed, however, since the ground was littered with debris that could be used as makeshift weapons. Most of the frustratingly merry band picked up various bits of wood to use as makeshift clubs. Yen’to ignored the bounty and stayed weaponless; with his souring mood, he wanted to feel the impact if he had to go to the trouble of beating information out of someone. As they approached, the man in question stopped whatever he was doing and began to speak up - but he barely got the chance before Fiona was upon him, landing a hard blow with her board. The idiot! She is going to start a fight we might not have needed! The man reeled, his eyes bulging as if going into a rage. Unexpectedly, he instead burst into tears. Calls rang out among his friends who were observing from nearby, clamoring to defend whom they referred to as ‘Gentle Paul’. “Come on boys - let’s get ‘em!” Seriously?!

They fought off their attackers as best they could, some doing better than others. Yen’to had limited training in hand-to-hand combat training, but was disciplined enough to know when to fight with restraint. His opponent did not, and Yen’to easily ducked underneath a flailing fist to land a solid blow on the man’s groin in retaliation. The others in the group held their own well enough; Fiona was terrifying in her brutality, and Yen’to swore the prisoner about to hit Strega backed off with just a look. Gentle Paul’s friends limped away to leave the blubbering highlander to fend for hismelf. Yen’to could make out the sea wolf bellowing in the distance “And that is for turning me down!” Did we just... get used as revenge for spurned advances?

Yen’to felt a twitch in his eye - he hated being someone else’s unwitting pawn. His anger simmered further as Gentle Paul informed them that he did not know who the Jungle Broker was, but very certainly knew someone who likely knew someone else who knew who it was. Someone is going to end up with broken bones before we leave, I swear to the Twelve. With a heavy sigh, Yen’to and the others trudged off to the next obstacle who was supposed to be able to help them - which turned out to be a collection of rough looking adolescents.

Yen’to did not even bother trying to figure out why children would be in such a dangerous prison. It quickly became apparent, however, once one of the kids began bragging about all of the shanking he had doled out while introductions bizarrely proceeded. Is this really happening? Is this a nightmare? The kids claimed that they knew where the Jungle Broker was, but demanded a dance for their entertainment before they would give up the information. Deep breath.... they are just kids. Just do what they say so we can move on with this farce. Yen’to struggled to keep his anger in check as he and the rest were soon bobbing back and forth with their best attempts to comply - with mixed and awkward results.

After what seemed like an eternity, the youths seemed pleased and duly informed Yen’to’s group that they did not know who the Jungle Broker was, but knew someone who knew how to know where to find someone who would know. Did they... but we just - gods damn it! Gritting his teeth, Yen’to stormed off after the others in the appointed direction. Down some dark alleyway, they heard the voice of an old man calling out for them to come closer. Yent’to sensed a trap, but only Strega held back with him as the others blundered towards the source of the sound. You know what, they can go be idiot meat shields and then Strega and I can finish this up while they are bleeding out from stupidity.

From a second story window, an ancient Doman man named Shen hollered greetings down to them in a heavy accent. He said he had the information they required, but in return they would have to indulge in a review of a book he had written. Does everything here have a price? At least we have yet to be stabbed. The Doman lowered it down in a basket, and one by one they each read a passage from the book to give him their opinions.

Aly was as bubbly and positive as could be expected. I do not think she could be mean if her life depended on it. Strega was... confusingly technical, but so far it did not seem like it was that bad. I have no idea what she just said, but... good, I think? Victor’s reaction gave Yen’to pause, since he struggled to provide any sort of meaningful compliment. Someone only tries so hard to be technically correct when there is something to hide. Once it was Fiona’s turn, Yen’to watched in slowly dawning horror as she furiously called out the others for lying, following with a scathing review of how horrible the book was and how horrible everyone was for humoring the daft Doman; Strega was almost in tears for being called a liar. I see those giant ears of her take up all of the space in her head normally reserved for thinking. In a rage, the Doman demanded Yen’to finish the book and that he better have something good to say.

The last portion, as was the whole book, was absolutely horrendous. It took all of Yen’to’s remaining willpower to keep his expression neutral. A drunk goblin child could come up with something more coherent than this! He hated lying, so he copied Victor’s tactic, “Uh... the twist ending where the hero gets everything was perfect?” The Doman seemed pleased, and gleefully sent them on their way for what hopefully was the last hoop to jump through. If this is not the Jungle Broker, then someone is going to end up broken.

Rounding a corner, they came upon a highlander lounging on some crates. He looked highly amused as the group approached, and inquired mirthfully, “Why did you not just turn left from the gates? Would've taken you straight here!” Yen’to was not amused - his eye twitched again. Hold it together... we still need him alive. Although no one said about unhurt. The Broker affirmed that he was the one whom Khan had sent them to find, and that he also had prepared a plan for breaking out. Much to Yen’to’s chagrin, said plan involved starting a full blown riot. Upon the Broker’s signal, some prisoners began a fight which quickly flared into a maelstrom of shouting, fighting, and more than a few stabbings. If I die here, I am going to kill Khan!

The group struggled to make their way through the chaos with their escort in tow, fighting off guards and prisoners alike as they made a bee-line to the front gates. Making good on his promise from earlier, Yen’to managed to sidestep an incoming punch while grabbing the prisoner’s arm before jamming his knee up into the elbow to break the offending appendage - the prisoner howled and scrambled away. Completely done with this nonsense, Yen’to simply squared his shoulder and charged through the mass of bodies. Fiona battered her way through with her makeshift club, while Aly deftly used the thick skulls of the prisoners and guards as launching pads to get through to the gate. Victor used what looked like a combination of lightning and wind aspected aether to lift himself over the fray, and Strega.... had somehow charmed a prisoner to shank a path clear for her. 

Khan was already waiting outside with a veritable flock of chocobos, all while prisoners spilled out all around them. The Jungle Broker quickly left with Khan, while the rest of the group grabbed the nearest available chocobo and fled in different directions. 

Another mission complete. Hmph, despite the ‘help’ from the others. Well, except maybe Strega... who was somehow even more effective than the others despite not fighting. How does she do that? They had somehow managed to blunder their way to success, and that was all that really mattered.

@tough-bit-of-fluff

[sunarintoes]

Synopsis: Yn Ln is an environmentalist - Miyagi University’s very own campus ‘Green Thumb.’ One day Hinata Shōyō who happens to be a close friend of Yn, invites them to come to one of his races. The only problem is that this race of his, is illegal. Read the journey of Yn who has been sucked into the world of illegal street racing with the one goal: to create an eco-friendly race car.

WC: 1.8K

Note: is this character development I smell? 👀

Vanilla Bean Frappe

You slowly make your way down to the Karasuno club room, Sugawara had run off to the bathroom which left you alone; not that you minded of course. Sometimes a little bit of peace and quiet while you wander past various different crews is nice. It allows you to have the freedom of walking from place to place and being able to let your eyes roam around your surroundings. Normally with Sugawara you had only kept your eyes on him and the road ahead, not wanting to seem disinterested in the many things he talked about. You notice how the clubrooms are closely packed together, the smaller teams sit in one area while the bigger teams are only a few metres apart - and that the more… successful crews have more members and a larger room. Shiratorizawa was slightly larger than Dateko’s, Seijoh and Karasuno’s. You guess it's simply because they are the champions and need the extra room to store their trophies. Dateko and Karasuno are on the same side, Seijoh and Shiratorizwa mirror them which forms a square between them. You let a small smile ease it’s way onto your face, it was freezing but you were excited to speak with Shouyou and congratulate him on his race. 

You freeze when you hear a quiet sob, you narrow your eyes as you look around you but no one seems to be crying - there’s no one outside either. Just when you get ready to move again you hear another sob, and against your brain’s desire, you make your way to the sound. You can't help yourself, you hate it when someone is in pain.

There is a figure hunched over behind a tree and from where you’re standing they look like a guy. You slowly walk up to them and put your hand on their shoulder before crouching down next to them; ‘hey are you alright-- Oikawa! What are you doing here?’

Oikawa wipes the tears off of his face and looks away from you, his body shrinking into itself as if he was trying to protect himself. ‘Listen up, brat, I don't care about you nor do I know you. Why are you here? What did I do to deserve being plagued by you? Why can't you just leave me alone huh?’

You retract your hand and let out a long sigh. He was obviously upset and didn't mean the things he said; or maybe he did, but it didn't matter, all that mattered was that you knew he was alright - even if you despised him to some degree. ‘Oikawa… I’m sorry, I'm not sure what’s made you so distraught but I want to help… is there anything I can do-’

‘No! Just leave! I don't want nor do I need you here.’

The kind smile you put up to comfort him shakes a little before it regains its composure. ‘Should I get Hajime?’

The atmosphere becomes deafeningly silent and stays that way for a minute, ‘no,’ he whispers as more tears roll down his crimson cheeks, ‘I know we have this strange relationship where we both dislike each other but do me a solid, don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.’

You have to lean in close to hear him and you find yourself shivering at his voice, it was smooth and sweet like chocolate and you think it suits him completely. ‘I promise, and I know we don't like each other, but I have an idea to make you feel better… let's be friends for the night,’ you say as you place your hand back on his shoulder.

He flinches like last time while he looks at you - shock written all over his face, ‘I'm sorry what?’

You lose your balance which results into you falling onto your behind and you feel your face heat up; ‘I- well, it's just that I thought maybe we could just head over to some fast food restaurant and get you a drink to cheer you up and get your mind off of whatever and, and I uh thought maybe it was best to go with me because um I don't know maybe a stranger’s company is what you need?’

He scowls at you before sighing and getting up, ‘yeah… maybe you’re right. Let's be friends for the night.’

✄.

You find yourself in the passenger seat of Oikawa’s car and despite your initial thoughts, the car doesn't smell half bad - in fact it smells good, it reminds you of hot cocoa on a winter’s day. You look out the window and see the street lamps fly by and soon enough, you arrive at an all day Starbucks located at a seemingly abandoned gas station. 

Oikawa gets out of the car first and walks around to open the door for you; ‘you didn't have to do that…’

‘I didn't but I did anyway so you should be saying thank you.’

You resist the urge to scoff and instead, opt to roll your eyes in a semi playful manner, ‘yeah you're right, thank you my King,’ you fake courtesy after you get out.

You look up to see him scowling down at you but still doing his best to bite down a smile, ‘come on, let's just get a drink and never speak again.’ You laugh at that.

✄.

‘I'll get one vanilla bean frappe, thank you, oh uh… medium size thank you!’

‘Your orders will be ready shortly!’ says the cashier.

Oikawa leads you over to an empty table that was seated towards the back of the food court. ‘So you have a sweet tooth huh?’

‘Yeah I guess… could say the same for you? An iced coffee with caramel.’

His lips twitch up into a smile, ‘yeah I guess.’

You sigh as you lean back into the chair, ‘we totally got off on the wrong foot, didn't we?’

Oikawa looks out the window, ‘yeah we totally did… I guess I'm partly to blame.’

You make a sound of agreement, ‘yep. I know you said that this would be a one time thing, but I think so far it’s been nice to be with someone who doesn't really know you. I'm not sure… I'm tired so I'm really just rambling.’

‘No, I understand perfectly. Being with a stranger, someone who doesn’t know you, feels free I guess. They don't know what's going on in your head and they are entitled to know how you're feeling or whatever.’

Silence takes over as you both continue to drink. ‘Maybe… maybe we could become friends or something?’

Oikawa sighs and looks at you with an unreadable expression, ‘no. That's the deal we made, we aren't going to become friends. But… you did help me feel a bit better I guess, I'm not crying anymore so that's a plus…’

You bite your lip and look away, contemplating on what to say next. Oikawa’s gaze is still focused on you, making you feel small. You look him in the eyes, ‘let's stay as strangers.’

He lets out an amused scoff, ‘stay as strangers? What's the supposed to mean?

Suddenly you feel nervous, naked and exposed. ‘Well I just thought that uh maybe, maybe you and I could, umm, we could y'know do this every so often? But stay as strangers… we just meet up get a drink and stay in each other’s presence but we don't get to know each other-’

‘I like it. But let's set some rules as well, yeah?’ your eyes widen in shock, you didn't think he would actually agree. ‘First off, no interacting with each other away from this, and if we do we continue to be rude to each other? We stay as far away as possible - mentally that is.’

‘Second rule, no falling in love.’

‘Shouldn't that be obvious?’

‘I- yes, yes it should but you seem to have a thick skull so I have to make sure you know.’

He smirks, ‘well, looks like you can be mean.’

‘What's that supposed mean!?’

‘Oh? Absolutely nothing darling,’ oh, there it is; that irritating pet name, ‘let's continue with our rules. I say for rule three we tell nobody.’

‘Agreed, so far we have, one - stay as strangers, two - don't fall in love slash become friends and three, tell nobody. How about one more, we can confide in our problems with each other but not get to know each other on a personal level?’

‘I like that.’ he smiles, and God it is so beautiful. I think that’s about right. How about I take you home?’

You look up at him and smile, ‘that’d be helpful.’

✄.

You watch as Oikawa’s car speeds off into the night before you make your way to your apartment which is regrettably on the third floor. Trudging up the stairs you curse at yourself for making a deal with the devil - no, not Oikawa, but with the landlord who told you that the ‘three flights of stairs was short and easy to walk up.’ What utter bullshit. 

You pull out your apartment keys and go to open the door but something is blocking your way. Looking up from the floor you find this something to be someone, and this very someone is the very ex-lover who shattered your heart. ‘Kiyoko,’ your voice is breathy and shaky, it sounds as though you are trying to convince yourself that what you see before you is real and not an illusion.

She looks down, ‘hey Yn,’ she starts off softly, ‘I thought maybe we could talk… you weren't at The Garage tonight with everyone else and I assumed you still lived in the same apartment.’

You glare at her, ‘I'm sorry what? How do you know about The Garage?’

Kiyoko looks taken aback, ‘I'm the other manager. You didn't know that?’

Now it's your turn to be confused, ‘no, no I did not. I just assumed that someone had the same name as you…’ you felt like an idiot because what you are telling her is the honest truth. 

She quietly giggles, ‘I see. Well I haven't been there the past two weeks… I've been out of town-’

‘Please just get to the point,’ you beg.

‘I think it’s fate. I want to give it another go- I want to give us another go. I still have your number and I know you still have mine…’

You scowl at her as you walk past into your apartment, ‘and get my heartbroken? Again! No thanks.’ And with that, the conversation is over and the door is slammed on Kiyoko’s face.

You walk into your room and sit besides the bed. Kiyoko’s offer is tempting, you really do want nothing more than to climb back into her arms and inhale her scent, you want nothing more than for her to run her hands through your hair as she places delicate kisses to your forehead. ‘Fuck!’ you yell out.

✄.

Kiyoko walks down the stairs to Sugawara’s car, ‘How’d it go?’ he asks. She looks away and he takes it as a sign that she doesn't want to speak about it. ‘Still, I really had no idea you and Yn had a history like that… Why did you two break up?’ She stays silent and Sugawara knows he should drop the subject.

Taglist: @dadchi-oya @cutepet09

[withabackpackandcamera]

March 26th, 2021

Day 3: The Long Reverse Hike at Haleakala National Park Sandwiched Between Sunrise and Sunset

Man do I dislike waking up in the wee hours of the morning before the sun is even close to rising… But it was something that I had to endure today in order to view one of the gems of Maui (a gem that supposedly only 50 private parties of people can enjoy a day (probably excluding tour company groups)): sunrise at the summit of Haleakala Crater.

Because sunrise was scheduled for 6:20am or so, we had set our alarms for 4:00am with the goal of leaving the AirBnB at 4:30am. We ended up getting out of there around 4:45amafter cleaning up and checking out. The drive out to Haleakala National Park was supposed to take about an hour given the dark, windy, switchback roads that we had to drive up but luckily, the drive was smooth and without issue, and we arrived at the national park gate entrance at around 5:45am. 

We thought we were good on time with that arrival time but little did we know that there was still quite a bit of a slow, windy drive left to get to the actual summit from the entrance gate. And that sunrise was quickly approaching with the sky slowly lighting up over us. Nervous that we might actually miss the sunrise, I charged up the mountain to the summit, zooming through curves while racing down the straight parts of the road. Eventually, I had to make a decision on where to view the sunrise since I was presented with two options along the route: the Visitors Center or Red Hill (or Pu'u'ula'ula). Not knowing which one provided the best vantage point and view of the sunrise (since I didn’t do my research ahead of time), I decided to drive up to the very top of the summit at Red Hill, located at 10,023 feet above sea level, to view the sunrise and got to the parking lot about ten minutes or so before the spectacle was scheduled to happen. 

I jumped out of the car after parking and ran up to a spot on the hill where I saw some others standing and planted my tripod on the ground and set up for the sunrise shot I was hoping to capture. The scene around us was beautiful. A red-colored rocky landscape with a road winding down the slopes in front of us. Haleakala Crater with its jagged rim backlit by the ever-brightening sky behind it underneath which sat a rug of clouds blanketing the ocean views beneath it. Soon enough, Cynthia and I and the rest of the crowd around us spotted the bright orange ball of a sun rising past the horizon of clouds and peeking at us from a distance. As the sun slowly rose in the sky, it created a gorgeous scene of warm lights and shadows that didn’t last as long as I wished it had. 

After enjoying the sunrise views from the summit, we quickly drove down to the Visitors Center below to enjoy what was left of sunrise. The view down there wasn’t great by the time we made it to the rim of the crater and before long, the sun was high in the sky and the sunrise event was over. It was time to pack up the camera and get ready for the long hike ahead. We headed back to the car to prepare for the Sliding Sands Trail we were going to hike today. We quickly ate some leftovers we had for breakfast and changed and packed everything we needed for the long day ahead of us. Once comfortable and ready to go, we started our hike around 7:30am. 

The Sliding Sands Trail, also known as Keonehe’ehe’e) is an 11 mile out-and-back hike that starts (instead of ends) at an altitude of 9,802 feet and descends into the Haleakala Crater to a nadir of 7,225 feet before you turn back around to hike back to where you started. Our goal for the day was to make it all the way to the bottom and complete the entire trail, which would eventually lead us to Mapalaoa Cabin, a rest cabin located about 2 miles past the slopes we were to hike down. 

Though the sun was out, the day started off a bit windy and cool. We slowly snaked our way down on the rusty red-brown, sandy and rocky path, taking time to appreciate the very unique and colorful scenery around us. We observed the beautiful and threatened species of Haleakala silverswords as we climbed down the slopes and saw, from a distance, the dark black cinder cones rising from the ground of the crater below. 

As we climbed further and further into the crater, the wind died down and the temperatures progressively warmed. Once we hit level ground, we walked another 1.7 miles on a sandy trail into the middle of the crater where we would be greeted by the Mapalaoa Cabin. By this time, we hadn’t run into too many people, just two other parties that had already made their way down to this area. And we were the third party as far as we knew. Because of all the beautiful scenes I had to stop at and photograph, it took us about 3h20m to get to Mapalaoa Cabin, and, by that point, Cynthia was spent and completely over it. I was hoping that we would have enough energy for both of us to hike a loop around the cinder cones in the crater back toward the slopes we descended earlier but because of the hotter weather conditions and how tired Cynthia was from the climb down (and because of the altitude we were hiking at), we decided to forego the loop and just do an out-and-back. 

We stuck around the cabin area for a bit and took our lunch/snack break there at a picnic table outside for about 40 minutes to rest our legs and our lungs before getting right back at it. Usually, the hike back to the beginning is downhill (usually down a mountain) and much easier than the hike in. However, this hike was completely reversed and the hardest part was definitely the hike back at altitude. So, step by step, Cynthia and I hiked back through the desert-like crater and up the side of the crater to where we started. And it was a long hike up, because of both my heavy camera bag and my weary legs. At some point on the ascent, I started feeling discomfort at the top of my right calf muscle that slowly got worse as I climbed. A calf strain at the worst possible time. But I trudged on at my own pace and Cynthia did the same at her own pace as well. We passed people but many parties passed us as well. But it was fine because hiking up slowly was the best thing we could do for ourselves to get back to the top and to avoid any altitude sickness that might hit us as a result of hiking uphill to 10,000 feet. We took frequent breaks, drank a lot of fluids, and ate a lot of snacks, which helped energize us on our slow march to the top. I personally made a ton of stops on the way up because by this point in the early afternoon, the sun’s position in the sky had changed for the better, and the colorful center of the crater was perfectly lit for photos. And I took a ton of them (and probably too many) on the way up!

Eventually, Cynthia and I made it back to the top! For a roundtrip total of 8h45m! What a champ Cynthia was! The hardest hike she’s ever done and she did it with only some exhaustion but otherwise crushed it! With our legs feeling like jelly, we took a little break and just sat in the warm car and chilled. After a few minutes, we moved the car to the summit parking lot where we hung out until sunset. Originally, we weren’t sure we were going to stick around for sunset due to our exhaustion but we ultimately decided that we might as well stay to see the sun’s descent. 

After finding some data in the area to use, I found that the best spot to view sunset at Haleakala was actually where we were situated. So we stuck around Red Hill and checked out the surrounding views of the crater and the observatory below. With an hour until sunset, I grabbed my photography equipment and scouted out a spot along the western side of the hill where others were starting to camp out and made myself comfortable. From my seat on the rocky volcanic ground, I could see not only the Maui landscape far below as the sun was setting on it but also the mountains in the distance and the blanket-like cloud cover all around. 

Shortly after setting up, Cynthia joined me for sunset and after waiting an hour, we enjoyed a beautiful view of the sun as it dipped below the blanket of clouds at 6:38pm. I stayed around in the cool evening weather taking photos until the colors of the sunset were essentially gone. Because it was going to take a little more than an hour to drive to West Maui, I didn’t stay to take photos for long and returned to the car to start our drive as the darkness began to fall.  We eventually made it to Ka’anapali Beach in West Maui where we picked up takeout dinner (Kalua Pork Tacos, Coconut Shrimp, and a Cheeseburger with Fries) from the very popular Leilani’s on the Beach restaurant to bring back to the Royal Lahaina Resort and Spa, our home for the next three days. 

After checking in to our resort, we moved up to our room and finished our dinner in the room after cleaning up and reorganizing ourselves. Because of how tired we were from the long day (and how sore my strained gastrocnemius was from the hike), we called it a night relatively early without doing much else after dinner. Now begins the chill part of the vacation! Looking forward to a chiller day tomorrow! 

5 Things I Learned/Observed Today:

1. Beware of how you time your drive up to Haleakala Summit for sunrise. There is a significant drive, around 20 minutes, that your GPS does not account for from the national park entrance to the summit itself. So plan accordingly or you’ll be late and miss the sunrise. 

2. Haleakala is a shield volcano that created about 75% of Maui. Crazy! 

3. The endangered Haleakala silverswords are pretty cool and pretty weird! Based on what I observed from the plants, it looks like the silversword has various stages of life that it evolves through. By looking around the crater landscape, you might be able to hypothesize the life cycle of the silversword and make a guess as to which form leads to which other form and how it all ties together. A fun biology thought experiment. Also, interestingly enough, the silversword has a dense covering of silvery hairs that help the plant to conserve moisture and protect the plant from high-elevation sun.

4. Even though sunrise is pretty cool to see at Haleakala summit, the beauty of the crater itself is difficult to appreciate at that time due to the harsh shadows created by the morning sun’s backlight. However, as the sun moves across the morning and afternoon sky, the lighting gets better and better. By the mid to late afternoon, you get a much better view of the beautifully colorful Haleakala Crater that is now well- and evenly-lit.  

5. The highest point on Maui, Haleakala Summit, was the perfect place to build an observatory because the area is situated above the clouds, leaving a clear and dry atmosphere, as well as minimal air and light pollution. The observatory’s position provides perfect conditions for viewing the stars and the heavens. Based on what I read, the site provides the fourth-best viewing conditions on the planet! 

[thebiasrekkers]

Make It Right [BTS Mafia!AU]

Plot: “It’s always darkest before the dawn…” It’s a dog-eat-dog world in Seoul, South Korea. One has to dwell in the shadows in order to reach for the light. What are you willing to sacrifice in order to feel the sunlight on your face? What will it take to drag you back into darkness? How long will the journey be to make it right?

Rating: NC-17 // NSFW

Genre: Series | Mafia!AU | Crime!AU | Angst | Romance/Fluff | Smut

Pairings: Jin x OC | Taehyung/Hoseok x OC | Yoongi/Jungkook x OC

Warnings: Graphic Violence (bloody violence), Heavy Language, Angst, Slow Burn, Smut

Additional Warnings: Video footage of torture, graphic physical violence, captured/kidnapping

Previous Chapters: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49

Links: FAQ || BTS Masterlist || Admin E’s AO3 || Admin E’s WP || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,778

Tag List: @prisczero​, @pinkpjmin​, @btsaudge​, @flowerwrites06​, @unoriginal-username15432, @halussali​, @shrimpmsg​​,

AN: It’s about to get dark, dark, and even darker still. I just want to remind everyone that I love you all for coming on this journey with me. Thank you for loving this story and remember that you are loved.

Chapter 49: Danger

“You’re in danger right now, why are you testing me? Why are you testing me? Stop confusing me.“

© thebiasrekkers (Admin E). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

Three Days Later Seoul – Hannam; Yongsan District South Korea

Hoseok took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in the plush leather chair. Soft music played from the stereo in the corner of the room; a semi-vain attempt at quieting his thoughts. They were pervasive, loud, and extremely unwelcome these days. Namjoon insisted he take the day off, reassuring Hoseok that both he and Yoongi could handle things while he was away from the office. He wasn’t one to be fussed over, but even he had to admit that the mounting stress from the last few months was finally beginning to take a toll on him.

It was quiet. Too quiet. This disturbed him on various levels in ways that he couldn’t possibly describe. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried. He had. Hoseok tried time and again to empty his feelings at Seokjin and Namjoon’s feet. But it always fell short; something felt incomplete about his trepidation.

There shouldn’t have been a reason, however. Hoseok knew this. He’d made his stance very clear with Changkyun the last time they crossed paths with one another. He would not be part of the little games he was attempting to play, and he wouldn’t be coerced into walking back into darkness. None of them would.

Too much was at stake now. They were all slowly building something with their own hands; something that was of some semblance of clean. Happiness fluttered around his brothers like butterflies and he enjoyed that they were able to indulge in the little things in life for a change; things they often took for granted when they were living in the countryside.

Anastasia was pregnant, her belly swollen with the life that she was nurturing. Seokjin babied and pampered her and the others were getting used to the idea that they were all going to be uncles. When the topic of marriage was brought up, Seokjin merely smiled. He said nothing else on the matter and they didn’t push. It was clear that he would do things at his own pace.

Raelyn, too, was pregnant. Truth be told, it stung Hoseok in a way that he wouldn’t dare admit aloud. Taehyung loved her and it was clear she cared for him as well. Who was he to get in the way of that happiness, regardless of his own lingering attachments? It wasn’t fair. He wouldn’t be unfair. She was only a month behind Anastasia and Taehyung made a point to notify everyone that Raelyn was forever spoken for. No one mentioned marriage at all since Taehyung had plans of his own.

Jungkook and Eden were now living together. He remembered the look on his youngest brother’s face when he closed on the house, notifying the others that he would be moving out of their home in UN Village. The others protested at first. They didn’t think it was necessary for Jungkook to move out when Eden could have easily moved into their home instead. They had plenty of room and privacy. But after a conversation Hoseok had with Jimin and Jungkook both, he realized that it was the better option. He didn’t want to pour salt into any wounds. Especially not Yoongi’s.

It came as a surprise, at first, when he’d heard about Yoongi’s relationship with Eden prior. None of the others poked or investigated their brother, believing that he was going off to be with someone he cared about after being dragged through the dirt in the underground. While he knew that Yoongi’s loyalty was absolute and he cared deeply for his brothers, sometimes even The Lightning Claw yearned for an escape from the shadows that clung to their ankles persistently.

As he leaned back in the chair, he pressed his forearm against his temple while his other hand rested along his stomach. Dark eyes idly stared at the ceiling, looking at nothing in particular. His heart beat softly against his chest and he drummed his fingers along in time with the sound. He hummed a tune to himself, closing his eyes as he took a moment to think about everything they’d gone through to reach this point. It was a long journey – seemingly endless. Ten years flashed by so quickly that Hoseok often questioned if it was a dream they were all sharing; one where they hadn’t been able to wake up from yet.

So much fighting, stealing, and climbing over horrifyingly large mountains. Their knuckles burned white and their fingernails bled from how hard they were holding on to both themselves and their goals. Reaching the peak of the mountain, gazing over the horizon – over their kingdom – Hoseok could claim that it was something they could look back on with a mild feeling of fondness.

He couldn’t help but wonder if things would be different had they all decided to remain in their hometown.

Letting his arm fall against the armrest of the chair, he scoffed and shook his head. What’s the point of worrying about that now?

They all decided things together. They agreed to uproot themselves and walked hand-in-hand into the pits of Hell. Hadn’t everything they’d accomplished to this point, means be damned, been the result they wanted? It was all so they could have a better life at the cost of their innocence.

Im Changkyun had been right about one thing. Sacrifices had to be made. They had to be willing to make them.

The soft chime of the doorbell rang throughout the house. Hoseok sat up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Looking at the video phone, he picked it up as the person near the front gate lifted his face toward the camera. The young man wore a uniform, presumably a delivery service. He had a small package in his arms. He waved to the camera and Hoseok felt his brows furrow. He wasn’t expecting a delivery.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh, yes Sir? I have a delivery for Jung Hoseok?”

“Who’s it from?”

“There’s no return address, Sir.”

He sighed. “Just leave it.”

“It’s requiring that someone sign for it, Sir.”

Something uncomfortable settled in the pit of Hoseok’s gut. He could have just told the delivery boy to go away and have the package returned to the shipping company. It wasn’t like he’d be punished for it and Hoseok was certain he hadn’t ordered a parcel. If anything, this was a potential headache in the making and he wasn’t in the mood to deal with it.

“Uh, Sir? Are you there?”

Hoseok pressed two fingers to his forehead and groaned. “Fine, I’ll be right out. Stay there.”

Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he exited his office and headed toward the front door. Sliding into a pair of sneakers, he grabbed his wallet and slid it into the back pocket of his slacks. The security lock beeped behind him as the door closed and he slowly trudged down the winding path of the front garden toward the front gate. He entered the passcode and pulled the gate open slowly, his back rigid as he prepared to brace himself for anything that might have attempted to catch him off guard.

The young man smiled, holding out the small parcel toward Hoseok. He took it, cradling it under one arm, while he signed the tablet with the stylus. The delivery man checked his signature, bowed, and bid him a wonderful rest of his afternoon. Hoseok merely nodded, closing the gate and began heading back toward the house when the security lock beeped again.

Mindlessly inputting the passcode, he entered the house while examining the package. It was a simple white box with red and blue accents around it – presumably the logo and color scheme of the shipping company. It was no longer than a standard envelope and as thick as two decks of cards. His name was on the front but like the delivery man stated, there was no return address.

For the sake of argument, Hoseok shook the box and heard the soft rattling sound of something hitting the inside along all four corners. Whatever was inside was small and light. He tossed the box up and down, confirming much of the weight was from what was concealed in the box. Opening the flaps from one end, he held the box at an angle and a small USB thumb drive fell into his palm. There was nothing about it that stood out; just a simple red and black thumb drive with the manufacturer’s logo on it. He shook the box again but nothing else was inside.

Tossing the box into the nearby waste bin, Hoseok entered his office and closed the door behind him. His legs moved toward his desk and he flopped into his chair. Pulling up a virus scanner on his computer, he made sure it was ready and waiting before sliding the thumb drive into one of the USB ports. Two minutes went by and the virus scanner confirmed there was nothing malicious on the drive, deeming it safe to open.

Clicking on the icon for the drive, there was a folder with his name on it. He opened it and saw three files inside: two video clips and a text document. There was nothing urgent on the text file’s label. It merely read For Hoseok. The video clips, however, had two different dates on them: three days ago and today, followed by the numbers 1 and 2.

He clicked on the first video.

The picture was dark, showing that whatever room the video was being filmed in had poor lighting. He could make out a couple of silhouettes, but there weren’t any distinctive features that could help him discern who the figures belonged to. About ten seconds into the video, a light clicked on – illuminating one of the people in the video.

It didn’t take him long to recognize who it was and the moment he did, Hoseok thought his guts had fallen out of his body.

In the video, there was a woman sitting in a chair. She was tied up with what looked like a combination of regular ropes and large chains. Her mouth was gagged with a bright red cloth and her head hung forward, the light over her head shadowing the rest of her face. The intensity of the light hanging over her made it only slightly difficult to discern her skin color, but her dark curls that fell around her neck and across her shoulders was unmistakable. Something dangled from her neck – he could only assume it was a necklace of some kind.

But he still couldn’t see her face.

“No,” he whispered while shaking his head. He could feel a cold sweat forming on his brow. “There’s no way that’s…”

All the moisture left his mouth in mid-denial. A masked man grabbed a handful of the woman’s curls, yanking her head back. A muffled yell of outrage pushed from her chest, lost against the bright red fabric pressed over her mouth. Her face was fully illuminated in the light and even Hoseok could no longer deny who was sitting in that chair.

It was Eden.

The video was only ninety seconds long and it abruptly ended with a hand holding up two fingers in front of the camera lens. The person in the video was telling him to click on the second video file.

He clicked on the other video file labeled with today’s date.

It was the same nondescript room and Eden was still sitting in the chair. A trail of blood seeped from her temple and her shirt was torn open from the neck to her stomach, exposing her bra and skin. The necklace continued to hang from her neck and he could see there was a ring looped through the chain. It appeared that her shoulder was injured, the denim jacket stained a darker shade of blue on just her right shoulder. A large cut decorated her thigh and he could see where the blood blossomed across her jeans – staining her entire upper leg red.

Eden looked like she was fading in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, water was splashed over her face and chest, jolting her awake and it appeared that she was attempting to focus on her current predicament. When it seemed like the answer was dawning on her features, Eden raged through the bandana over her mouth, her body rocking back and forth viciously to break free from her restraints. One of the men backhanded her hard and she went limp, her head rolling forward.

Hoseok saw the blood leaking from beneath the gag.

The video ended.

Horror and fury tore through Hoseok’s entire body, threatening to rip him asunder. His shoulders vibrated from his anger and his vision blurred from the onset of furious tears. Getting his hands to steady over the mouse was a task in and of itself. When he managed to finally tether it down to move it, he clicked on the text file with his name on it.

It felt like the ground opened beneath him and swallowed him whole.

Hoseok Hyung,

I have to say, I’m impressed. Truly. I can’t find a single weak point in your defenses. But that shouldn’t come as a surprise, should it? You’ve always been so careful; always fully aware of your surroundings. The others are the same; a habit they’ve picked up from you, perhaps?

It’s a shame that same skill wasn’t embroiled in your women.

Not that it’s their fault. When you believe that you’re safe, what reason do you need to keep your guard up? Blissful ignorance does that to a person. Believing you’ve won makes you sloppy.

Your brothers have become sloppy, Hyung.

As interesting as it would have been to go after the women carrying your brothers’ children, I’m not a monster. Besides, Eden is the strongest of them and breaking her will only prove my point further.

That you’ve all grown weak in the light.

Hyung, this is my final offer. Stop letting the light blind you. Stop letting those weak dreams and ambitions dictate the rest of your lives. You can’t protect the things you love when you don’t have the power to stop anyone who would try to take it from you. You had that power and you threw it away.

And for what?

For love? Success? So you can lay in your graves, close your eyes, and think you’ll greet the Reaper with a nice clean conscience? Don’t be ridiculous.

Let’s see how long it takes you to find her. You already know asking for the police won’t do you any good. We have the Chief in our back pocket; we have for years.

By the time you read this, the boys and I will be out of the country on a business trip. Tracking us down will just be a waste of time. Both yours and hers. Every minute counts and the longer you take to find her, the more she’s going to suffer because of your inability to act.

The clock is ticking, Hyung.

And the game is still on.

Good luck.

Im Changkyun

For a moment, all Hoseok could do was stare at the words on the screen. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely think.

Then he saw red.

Hoseok jumped from his chair, grabbed the monitor, and hurled it across the room. The sound that ripped through him was beyond anything a human being should have been capable of making. Glass shattered as it crashed into the wall, breaking into numerous pieces. He picked up the keyboard and began to smash it across his desk, breaking the glass top as the keys popped off and scattered across the floor. Even when the keyboard was split in half, he continued to pummel his desk – creating more spider vein cracks along the surface.

And then he blacked out.

Hoseok didn’t know how long he was out. What brought him out of the darkness was the sound of Namjoon’s voice, as well as his body moving back and forth. Slowly, Hoseok’s eyes opened and he saw his friend looking down at him with extreme concern.

“Hoseok-ah!” Again, Namjoon shook him. “Are you alright? Hey, come on!”

His vision blurred in and out of focus, his head spinning, and he reached out blindly to grab onto Namjoon’s shoulder. “N-Namjoon-ah,” he croaked, realizing how raw his voice sounded, “the boys. C-Call the boys.”

Namjoon frowned, not sure what he was trying to tell him. Hoseok growled in frustration.

“GET EVERYONE HOME RIGHT NOW, GODDAMMIT!”

[crimsonrae]

Bear and Birdie

Chapter One

Summary: AU Howard only ever had Birdie to confide in as a child and Steve only ever had Bucky. So, what happens when more than just a supersoldier serum connects these people? Told in a collection of one-shots and flashbacks, rating subject to change.

Bucky BarnesxOFC

Rating: Mature

A/N: Okay I have this posted on FF and haven’t updated it in a... long time, but I’m going to post here and hope I find inspiration to finish their story, because they live in my mind and I love them.

Chapter One

1935 Brooklyn, New York

It was quiet.

But...it wasn't the world is just silent right now quiet. It was heavy, just shy of tangible.

James Buchanan Barnes, Bucky to his friends, frowned at the silence unsure why the quiet unsettled him that morning. The sun drifted through the cloudy windows of Saint Catherine's Lost Home for Boys in a hazy laziness that only seemed to add to the heavy silence of the lobby. It was almost oppressive. He bit back a sigh as he turned his attention to the paperwork he needed to fill out, lightly twirling a pen through his fingers as he read.

Official release documents – at eighteen-years-old James Barnes could no longer and would no longer be considered a ward of the great state of New York.

Bucky had known this day would come, had known he would have to say goodbye to the only stable home he ever had. He had thought he would feel angry about this day or maybe sad. He had thought he would feel something more than a slight dread and muted indifference. Maybe it was the fact that he knew the orphanage could never be a true home, a place to come back to when life became too much as he grew older. Hell, when he had arrived he hadn't intended to stay as long as he had, it was just…it was just the world seemed to have other plans for him.

If he was being completely honest with himself, the orphanage had stopped being home over a year ago. Maybe that was why he felt so indifferent to this whole process.

The lack of funding that Saint Cat's had received in the past few years had caused Bucky to ease away from the system long before it was ready to release him. The parish fought for every penny to feed and dress the growing number of children under its care. Yet, he hadn't felt right taking those meals and clothes when he knew he could take care of himself. He had spent his spare time working odd shifts down at the docks and at various diners in the area. Whatever work he could find he would take. He probably would have dropped out of school, if not for his entirely too lecture-friendly best friend - Steve Rogers would drag him off to class whenever necessary. James smirked, he had graduate by the skin of his teeth and he knew it. School was for the smart cats like Steve, not dumb bastards like him.

Not dumb bastards like him.

The paperwork seemed to glare up at him in stark black and white confirmation of that thought. James sighed resignedly, not entirely sure where his head was at as he finally lifted his hand to scrawl messily across the bottom of the page.

It was official now – he was no longer a lost boy, only a lost man. He snorted quietly, somehow that seemed far worse.

A muffled cough disturbed the oppressive silence and made Bucky blink up from his release papers directly into the sad green eyes of Sister Madeleine. He had forgotten she had been waiting for him to finish. The old Sister seemed to fade into the framework of the lobby. Always a part of the structure, but infinitely her own. Bucky pushed a small smile to his lips as he handed her the papers. Neither seemed to want to disturb the odd silence of the lobby as they waited for the other to speak. They didn't have to – the sound of shallow steps and a light grunt caught their ears as they turned toward the hallway entrance. Bucky nearly rolled his eyes.

"Stevie, what're you doing?" James sighed tiredly as he watched his best friend trudge into the lobby of the orphanage carrying a duffel that was almost as big as him.

The shorter blonde sent James a pointed look that said he shouldn't be surprised. In truth, Bucky wasn't. He had half-expected Steve to show up at the boarding house with a room key already in hand. In their almost decade long friendship and adopted brotherhood there wasn't much that Steve Rogers could do that Bucky didn't see coming, "You didn't seriously think I would stay here with Richie Long and Herman Dutt, did you?"

Bucky didn't even blink at the mention of Steve's long time tormentors, knowing it was a smokescreen. He merely quirked a brow, "And here I thought you three had made nice."

Steve snorted, "There's making nice and then there's being friendly, Buck." He paused as he ruffled through his coat to pull out paperwork that looked suspiciously like the documents that Bucky had just signed before handing them over to Sister Madeleine, "Sides, it's not like I'd be staying here much longer."

Bucky frowned as Steve glanced at him with a sly smile and certain spark in his blue eyes. Steve had at least another ten months before his release papers would need to be signed. He pursed his lips in question when the light bulb finally went on, "You got it. You got the scholarship."

Steve nodded almost shyly and Bucky just about crowed. Somehow, Steve had managed to graduate a year early with Bucky. James hadn't questioned it. He knew how determined his best friend could be and that he was smart enough to understand all the extra work. But the scholarship to Columbia...The scholarship had been a goal of Steve's since they had started high school. Bucky knew it had to do with a promise Steve had made to his mother before she passed...but Columbia.

Suddenly, leaving Saint Cat's didn't seem as unsettling. He grinned widely at his friend as he snatched his duffel up from the ground. Once again forgetting Sister Madeleine's presence as he nudged Steve in the shoulder, "This calls for a celebration. Let's go get some breakfast down at Mel's."

"We can't afford Mel's." Steve stated dryly as he followed Bucky's lead, unable to keep his small prideful smile from his lips.

Bucky just chuckled, "I think Cassie is working this morning. She'll get us something. We're celebrating Stevie. Man, you just got into Columbia. You'll be rubbing elbows with the blue-bloods soon enough."

"God, I hope not." Steve muttered amused. He tried not to shake his head at Bucky's excitement. He hadn't even been that happy when he received his acceptance letter, but it was good to see that smile. He hadn't seen Bucky smile at much lately. Swallowing tightly as the duo stepped outside he reached into the side of his bag and pulled out an envelope, "Here."

James frowned curiously as he took the wrinkled envelope. There wasn't paper inside. The contents too bulky and hard in his grasp, "What's this?"

But even as he asked, his fingers were prying open the flap to let loose two brass keys. He knew these keys. Steve almost fidgeted in place as he met Bucky's sharp gaze, "Aunt Mabel never sold Mom's apartment... just packed up and headed home to Oklahoma after...well after. And we need a place, so."

"Stevie..." Bucky started, unsure what he wanted to say, but knowing he should say something. Sarah Rogers had died in her apartment after a long drawn out battle with a sickness that he could barely understand. He couldn't see Steve living there...not after everything, "We can find another place."

"Like where, Buck? The boarding house you've been going to?" Steve pushed stodgily, "A roof is a roof, right? I can deal."

"The boarding house ain't so bad." Bucky murmured tiredly, because he couldn't quiet see Steve living there either.

Steve shrugged, he wouldn't admit that he didn't want to live in his mom's old run down box of an apartment, but he also wasn't ready to sell it yet. He hadn't even finished going through her things and she had passed over two years ago, "The apartment ain't so bad either, jerk."

James had a few reservations about that statement, but he wouldn't fight about it with Steve. Not now, maybe not ever. Instead he rolled his eyes and slung his arm around Steve's shoulder, "So, how long have you known about the scholarship, ya punk?"

"A week."

"A week? You didn't tell me for a week? You really are a punk, you know that?"

Steve snickered, "I think you'll get over it."

"Nah, we have a week worth of celebration to do now." Bucky said boastfully as he pushed his thoughts and Steve's away from Sarah Rogers.

Steve nearly rolled his eyes as he held in a groan. He had a week of Bucky trying to drag him out to a club or with a girl now. It wasn't the worst fate in the world, but he was sure it would be the most exhausting. The two sniped at each other as they walked. Their feet automatically moving where they needed.

The duo made it halfway to Mel's Diner when Steve snorted and nudged his friend, "Hey Buck?"

"Yeah?"

"Happy Birthday."

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1935 Kingston, New York

It was an unbearably hot morning. The sun seemed to be reminding the world that it was a giant ball of burning gas. Well maybe not the world, but the heat was definitely making its presence known to the small group segregated in a cemetery just outside of Kingston. Elena Turner stifled a sigh as she tried not to tug at the sleeves of her mourning dress. The satiny material didn't breathe and was beginning to cling to her skin…she wished the preacher would talk faster, this farce of a funeral needed to be over. She felt her cousin shift uncomfortably next to her and knew that he too was becoming impatient. She couldn't help, but turn to look at him. His eyes were glazed red and glaring miserably at the wooden coffin perched before them. He had foregone any pretense at being composed and was pulling clumsily at his collar.

Elena supposed it was for the best, Howard was supposed to be playing the role of the grieving son. She doubted that anyone, but herself and a few servants, knew that his pallid complexion and bloodshot eyes were the result from a night of drinking in celebration, rather than crying in sorrow. He was beyond hungover and the strange heat was doing nothing to make him better. She only hoped that he wouldn't do something incredibly…stupid.

"Stop fidgeting." Elena warned quietly, "There are more than enough people staring at you."

"I think I'm going to throw up." Howard murmured uneasily as he continued to pull at his collar. He could care less about the people watching him. He had spent the past week in a wild state of relief, shock and horror and it was almost over. As soon as the coffin was in the ground, he could move on.

"Please don't." Elena said with a small grimace, "I told you not to drink so much last night."

He rolled his eyes and instantly regretted it as the sensation of a million needles pierced his skull, "How was I supposed to know it would be such a wretched morning? Isn't it supposed to rain at funerals?...God, I'm dying."

"You're not dying, you big baby. Besides, I think the world is rather happy that your father is no longer in it, I know I am." Elena muttered lightly as she watched the preacher finally close his bible and step back from the coffin to let the gravediggers have access.

Howard nearly cried in relief at the sight of the slightly grungy men, "Give me a break. The only person mourning daddy dearest is your mother."

As if the woman in question could hear his words from across the aisle of folding chairs, Vitoria Turner, sister of Howard Stark Senior, let out an awful screeching sob. Elena was sure the entire congregation cringed at the sound as she tried to hold back a groan of disgust. She could see her older brother, Fergus, quickly coming to her mother's aid with a handkerchief. It wasn't even eleven in the morning and already the day was too long.

"Think she'll still be crying when she finds out that father left her out of his will?" Her cousin murmured amusedly as he watched the spectacle his aunt was making.

"Yes, except then the tears will be real." Elena muttered dryly as she turned her attention back to the lowering of the casket. She honestly didn't want to think about her mother receiving that news. The woman was intolerable on a good day; on a bad day, Vitoria Turner could make Satan cry, "Can I stay with you when that happens?"

Howard sent her a sympathetic look, "Do you even have to ask, Birdie? You're always welcome in my home." He tugged at his collar again, "My God, what is with this heat? It's barely even May. I swear this is my father's doing. He's making sure I'm miserable even when he's gone."

"Don't say that!" Elena whispered harshly as she went pale at the thought of her uncle still having any influence on the world.

She sensed Howard's sharp eyes studying her and suddenly felt her stomach roll with silent shame. He hadn't been the only one to have a tumultuous week. She had been bouncing between the same emotions he had, the only difference was that Elena knew they would not be able to move on as easily as her cousin seemed to think. Her eyes drifted back towards the rectangular hole in the ground, and suddenly, her dress wasn't the only thing unable to breathe. What had she done?

As if he knew what she was thinking, Howard quickly grasped her hand and squeezed her fingers. Her blue gaze quickly snapped to him, but all Howard could do was shake his head. Don't fall apart now, he was silently trying to tell her. Not yet.

"Where's that flask you snatched this morning?" He whispered instead, no longer meeting her stare. If he had, then he would have seen the exasperated disbelief that sparked in her blue orbs.

"I'm not giving you anymore alcohol."

Howard bit back a smile as he heard the annoyance coating her voice. However, he hadn't been asking for the flask for himself to use, but for her. Elena could use a little alcohol to calm her nerves. He turned to explain this to her, but was only able to get his mouth open when another resounding screech was heard from the other side of the aisle as the mourners began to stand for final farewells.

Elena glared at him, "If I have to deal with my mother sober, then so do you."

Howard wisely kept his mouth shut and stood to receive the forming line of condolence wishes. Suddenly, he wished she had given him the flask. In a perfect world, he would not have had to arrange a funeral at the age of sixteen. His eyes drifted toward the now lowered casket that had induced Elena's minor panic moments before, but then he should not have killed his father either. His hands went clammy and the headache he had been nursing all morning seemed to become even more unbearable. He just needed to get past today. A moment later, he felt Elena come to his side. Her hand lightly tapped his elbow to let him know that she was there if he needed her. He smiled gratefully at her.

"Uncle Leo is here." Elena whispered as he began to shake hands, "He'll take us back to the house once we're done here."

Howard nodded his understanding as he spared another glance toward his father's grave. As he glanced back at the mourners, he caught Elena's gaze. A look of grim understanding passed between them.

No one could know.

Next Chapter

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[theflashdriver]

Making Merry

Here’s a late festive fic, focusing on Silver and the toys from a destroyed future! There’s some light Silvaze within but it’s not the focus, I hope you enjoy!

---

The world was cold and silent, devoid of even the whistling of wind and crashing of snowflakes. A figure was pacing his way forward without leaving the faintest of crunches. Behind him, an equally muted sleigh was pulled; its golden bells kept quiet by a stabilizing aura. Cyan light flared from both the individual and his toboggan, they did not mingle with the snow but instead hang just above it. Though that coating hid their festive appearance; hanging bells, a stocking cap and a giant sack could be discerned by all zero of the people watching.

A prickly figure, with a stuffed belly and a long beard, was gently gliding through candle lit streets; bringing his hands gesticulate through the air as he conducted tonight's business. His yellow eyes crossed from one building to the other, with every movement his light would shift, and a fairy-tale would become just a little more tangible. Windows were commanded open with no more than a gesture, hearth fires would snuff themselves with the wave of a hand and it took little more than a thought to unlock doors. Boxes, wrapped in shining green and red paper, emerged from his giant bag to slip beyond glass panes and down chutes, sneaking their way into houses by whatever means possible, before their entryways resealed themselves.

Of course, beyond even those presents, there was evidence of his endeavour. The charitable figure could not relight fires he'd snuffed; icicles and snow tumbled out of place as a result of his movements, no matter how he tried to subdue them. Fortunately, the night was bright; moonlight and starlight lit his path better than streetlamps ever could. Not only that, but they obscured and rationalized the bright glow that emanated from his person rather than contrasting it.

Or, well, the glow that had been emanating from him.

A laboured breath smoked into the cold air as the figure's cyan trappings left his person, they barely clung on the trolley behind him. Silver the hedgehog, age seventeen, had stumbled free from his own telekinetic hold. As his boots crunched against the snow covered ground his ears spiked high and his eyes began to scan; he took in both windows and streets, looking for the slightest of movements or the flicking of light-switches. His paranoia proved to be for naught, no movement came.

A wispy sigh slipped from his mouth.

Despite the cold, sweat drenched the hedgehog's brow. As if this overuse of his power wasn't enough to tire him, the hedgehog was wearing a most bizarre outfit; red-green woollen gloves protected his hands and boots with golden ornaments covered his feet but those were the most regular additions. A Santa hat sat securely sat behind his fanned quills, a false white beard hid his muzzle and a red overcoat with golden trestles, while not too bizarre on its own, hid a pillow he'd stuffed over his core in an attempt to emulate a jollier body type.

These factors combined were exhausting him, but he felt the need to keep them up. Allowing his feet to remain on the ground, he tiptoed forward and waved his great sleigh to follow. Sighting another latched window, he willed it to open and sent another present from his Santa-sack to brighten the morning of whoever lived inside. Naturally, he couldn't entirely see what he was doing. Silver tried to set his gifts atop the nearest table or counter, whatever was in reach but, naturally, some had surely landed on the floor. His presents were meant for children, just as Santa's were. Within the boxes were toys that had no hope of ever being sold. They came from another world, just as his outfit and sleigh did. That planet was not dissimilar to the one he now walked but it'd been brought to ruin by a lack of the very force that had just pulled him towards the ground; gravity.

The current state of his world was a most bizarre one indeed, not particularly festive either. Doctor Eggman had created a device that would weaken the earth's gravitational field and activated it from the sanctity of the space colony ark. This had resulted in global devastation; oceans had escaped into the sky and unsecured objects did the same. This, eventually, resulted in the loss of all life; no one was prepared for the change.

By the time Silver had arrived, almost 200 years after the apocalypse, the world had been reclaimed by plants. Reaching vines coated the ground and traced up buildings, giant tubers had been granted time to take form and the only thing still living to feast upon them were gigantic slugs and snails. Those creatures having undergone accelerated evolution as a result of a lack of predation but, fortunately, hadn't become carnivorous. Being able to fly and sustain himself on the plants, Silver had a relatively easy time uncovering the cause of the apocalypse and figuring out how he would solve it, but that hadn't been his only goal.

His world had no people, it had no children to play with toys. Shopping malls and charity shops had been left long abandoned; their goods left to gather dust in a world where no dust could gather. Naturally, Silver wasn't going to grave rob to fulfil his plan, but those items had been left without owners; were it not for him, they'd see no use. He'd managed to find a Santa suit in his size, pulled an oversized sleigh from a display and sewn together a ridiculously large bag to house his stash. In truth, the most time consuming of his endeavours had been wrapping all of the goods. After some debate, he'd settle on gifting one shoebox filled with toys to each household across the Sol dimension's scattered islands. Naturally, even with his powers to aid him, this resulted in a ludicrous amount of packaging; despite how much smaller the Sol dimension's population was than that of his own world's prime, it still meant over a hundred thousand gifts.

He'd completed his journey around all but one of the islands; he was now, steadily, working his way through the capital city of Southern Island. There couldn't be more than a couple hundred presents to go, the end was within sight! Gritting his teeth and waving with his hands, Silver strode forward with what vigour his body would afford him. A list of doorbells informed him of a series of flats, with a swish of his hand the door was unlocked, and he dove inside; waving five boxes to chase up the stairwell and land outside each occupant's door. As the door relocked behind, the psychic sighted a row of homes; their latch windows all shared the same design. Rushing as fast as he could, dragging his haul behind him, he pried each one open with ease and forced a present through every window.

As he began to pant, struggling to endure the heat, the hedgehog finally snatched the pillow from beneath his shirt and stashed it into a garden hedge. Quickly sending parcels in ludicrous directions, he managed to trudge his way into the city centre. The space was marked by a grand Christmas tree, three stories tall and lit by a rainbow of red, gold and silver fairy lights. A marvellous thought managed to slink its way into Silver's head, a method of quickly dispersing what few packages remained. The sleigh was made to park in front of the tree, its red and brown oaken form was freed of garish cyan, before that very colour reclaimed Silver's body. He threw himself into the air, tracing along the trunk until he arrived at the tree's ginormous, crowning, star. Grasping it with his left hand, holding on with what might he had, psychic energy pulled in his right palm.

Squinting to look into the dark, he identified the windows and chimineas of houses he had yet to visit. One house at a time, Silver made openings he could take advantage of. He knew the districts he hadn't visited; he'd charted them before gathering his gifts, but it still took time to make his various manoeuvres. These shifts couldn't have been silent, not in every single case, but soon all of the destined paths had been made available. This was going to be exhausting, but not as exhausting as doing it all on foot.

He gestured down to his sleigh before, in one swift motion, pointing his finger to the sky. Almost instantly, a halo of gifts came to top the festive tree; only one step was left. Heaving a great breath, Silver resumed his conducting. Present after present raced beyond arm's reach, no postal service in any reality was capable of the feat he was performing. Gifts landed on windowsills, on workbenches, on tables and in unlit hearths; joy began to scatter itself across a half mile, ducking and dodging and diving its way into various homes. He gritted his teeth, brought his toes to curl and gripped tighter on the star; giving this task his total mental focus.

His false beard, unfortunately, was swept up in the maelstrom of presents and sent flying into the cyan breeze; luckily, it rushed skyward rather than into one of the houses. Silver continued his gestures, throwing out all manner of points and prods in an attempt to control the very chaos he was whipping up. Eventually though, gradually, the surrounding sky darkened again; his efforts were nearly completed! A bead of sweat slid down his nose and he felt his grip weaken but, using all his waving might, Silver managed to deliver those last presents.

Well, not the last presents but the last of those he'd felt obliged to give.

Heaving a deep breath, shutting his eyes tight, Silver stretched his aura to grasp windowpanes across the entire city. With a thrust of his hand and a smothered roar, he saved all those homes from the creeping of the night's cold; hundreds of entrances were forced to close. Satisfied but thoroughly drained, he draped himself in cyan aura and allowed himself to drop from the peak; it wasn't flying, instead he fell like a feather discarded by a bird. Reacquainting himself with the ground, he stumbled his way over to the sleigh. Between colossal yawns, he could make out the rough shape of the last two boxes within his sack.

Silver found himself unable to move the sleigh but, honestly, its final resting place suited it fine. Abandoned at the centre of the capital city, a great empty sack left flopping over its edge; it could mysteriously vanish tomorrow night. He figured that'd add to the wonder. Fighting his way into the sack, the hedgehog retrieved the two final presents and bundled them beneath his arms. Abandoning his vehicle, taking off on foot, Silver headed towards the home of the final resting child; a youth he knew all too well.

Boots left snow prints until snow gave way to sand, soon he was by the sea; the smell of salt and sound of waves polluted his senses, the lowlight was made darker still by his own lack of power. He could see a hut in the distance, crafted of old driftwood and wrought iron; an orange glow still lit the window. It was both a beacon and a worrying oddity, the girl within should have been long asleep. Another yawn threatened to tear through his throat, but Silver fought it off, changing his approach to avoid entering the house through its front door.

The garage entrance proved easy enough to break into anyway; by peering through its frosted window, Silver managed to grasp the pulley that the sliding panel door utilised and fold back its entirety. As ever, the garage floor was littered with raw materials, rusted tools and half-finished projects but he'd long learned to weave and avoid stepping on anything. But, when he arrived at the home's entrance, the hedgehog took pause. He pressed his ear against the great driftwood slab, listening for anything stirring within. Yellow light spilled from beneath the door, but he couldn't hear anything, no footsteps or speech or even tinkering. Well, the home's occupant wasn't known for sitting in silence.

As gently as he could, Silver turned the doorknob and pushed inside; the home's warmth immediately assaulted his cold fur. A festive interior lay before him; tinsel wrapped around every rafter, bobbles hung from nails crudely hammered into walls and splashes of red and green paint coated the walls. Well, she'd certainly given it her best effort. Slowly scanning the small hut, finding its hammock empty, Silver quickly discovered the occupant; sat in a chair of her own making, directly facing the door.

Marine the Raccoon, age ten, had fallen asleep waiting for Santa. She wasn't bundled in a blanket and she hadn't even changed out of her pyjamas, instead she sat in her usual bright green dress, gloves and boots included. Her arms were folded, and her head slumped, a clear sign that she'd lost a battle with sleep.

Looking past her, Silver was very glad that he hadn't entered through the front door. While she hadn't laid a dangerous trap, Marine had clearly wanted to know when Santa had arrived. She'd attached a bell to the door, set to ring as the door swung open; guaranteeing that she'd notice the arrival of any jolly intruder. If she'd rigged the back door too, Silver had no idea what he'd have done.

Gently creeping past her, Silver took the present from beneath his right arm and set it upright against the door. Ever so carefully, the psychic made sure to flip the present's tag such that it was visible; "To Marine, Merry Christmas, From Santa." Naturally, the other gifts had gone unnamed. Well, save for one other. When the raccoon did awaken, this would be the first thing she saw.

Turning back, he got one good look at the sleeping shipwright. By the occasional twitch of her foot and the odd flickering of her ear, Silver could tell she was dreaming about something. Given that and her uncomfortable position, it was unlikely she'd make it through the night without waking. Smothering another yawn, the faux Santa creeped his way back behind the raccoon and towards her hammock bed. He pulled down her blanket before quickly returning to her side, gently wrapping it across her shoulders in an attempt to provide some additional comfort. He figured she'd probably see it as some extra care on the part of Santa, maybe it'd even make up for missing the old fella.

Well, that and he had got her something she wanted, unlike the random gifts the other children had received. Marine's tools had been in disrepair for a while now, saltwater tended to corrode metal quickly and the raccoon had put her equipment through more than thorough use. Thus, he had packaged her a new toolset and drill; not typical gifts Christmas gifts per say, but what he knew she really wanted. Besides, Silver had got her some more typical presents; Santa was supposed to know better.

As he pulled away, Silver fought to smother another yawn, by this point his head was almost spinning; he'd spent so much energy, but he still had one gift left to go. Unfortunately, this last box was to be delivered on the other side of city. This gift was supposed to arrive at the palace and sunrise couldn't have been far away. He managed to make it halfway across the room before catching sight of something he'd both missed and forgotten, a small collection left on the countertop. A tall glass of milk and a small platter of cookies.

Cookies he'd helped make.

Around a week ago, Silver had made a mistake that he was now atoning for. Marine had asked for his help in preparing some chocolate chip cookies, insisting that they had to be the best they were capable of making. The hedgehog had helped her without really questioning, he'd figured they were just meant to be part of a gift, but towards the end Marine's excitement had spilled over. She'd talked about how Santa was going to love them and that he'd surely bring her a good gift this year. This had made Silver curious, having researched the fairy tale figure before, he'd asked various questions… some of which the shipwright hadn't been able to answer.

Silver had also admitted a couple of things that hindsight and research told him he shouldn't have. He'd told her that Santa had never visited the future, that he'd read stories about him, but they all seemed to derive from children's books and that he wasn't certain that the miraculous figure even existed. These points combined to cause the young raccoon a great deal of confusion and what amounted to disappointment. Questioning her own belief; she'd gotten angry and insisted that she'd stay up to meet Santa, proving to Silver that he existed.

Later that day, Blaze had explained to him why Marine had gotten so angry and consoled him that he'd had no way of knowing any better, but that didn't stop him from feeling bad. He'd left for the other world, promising them both that he was leaving to gather presents in secret and would return on Christmas, only to make this ludicrous plan a reality. He'd made Santa real, even if only in this smaller world.

Swearing that he heard something shift behind him, shaking away his daydream, Silver quickly scoffed the entire platter. Cleaning his muzzle with the back of his wrist, feeling both consciousness and energy return to him as blood rushed towards his stomach, the hedgehog slid his way to the door and quickly out through the garage. As he physically pulled the sheet door down, he noticed that some of the brightness had already returned to his psychic symbols. He had enough juice for this last flight, there was one more person he desperately wanted Santa to visit.

Wrapping himself in cyan light, the hedgehog took to the skies and rocketed himself above the clouds. The sky was still dark, the sun wasn't rising yet, but, given that it was Winter, people would surely awaken soon. He lingered among the cloud layer, obscuring his vision but guaranteeing that he wouldn't be seen, if even a single figure saw him this morning then this illusion was at risk of cracking. Fortunately, even with minimal view of the ground, this was a path Silver knew well enough to perform practically blind.

He broke free from the white cover just a hundred metres from the palace, its recently restored stonework made clear. Dodging between the castle turrets and around its backside, he came to hover above the royal garden before coming to land at a certain balcony. Its glass double doors were shut, the curtains pulled closed, but as he went to psychically create an entrance, the hedgehog found the doors unlocked. He poked his head through the drapes, attempting to quietly make sure the coast was clear, only for a set of amber eyes to rise from a book and ensnare him.

Almost reflexively, he stumbled back and clattered to the ground; quickly pulling the feline's present to his chest in an attempt to avoid crushing it. It was only as he lay there, back throbbing, that he noticed the decorations she'd clearly put up for his arrival. Red ribbons with golden trim lined the entryway and a pair of golden bells hung above its centre. Looking behind himself, he found that holly had been brought to rap around the balcony's guardrail. She'd waited for his return; she'd set all this up.

Before he could get to his feet, Blaze had stepped beyond the curtains and into the cold. Naturally, being pyrokinetic, the change temperature didn't shake her, but great plumes of steam were erupting with each of her breaths. The situation had surprised him, his heart was still pounding, but the combination of the ornaments and a smile on her face managed to subdue him.

"And what time would you call this?" She'd brought her arms to fold across her chest, looking down at him. Unlike Marine, she'd made it into her pyjamas; a button up purple night shirt and a set of baggy, grey, pyjama bottoms.

He couldn't bring himself to rise, a sigh escaped his throat and he broke from her eyes, "I-I don't know if it's early or late by this point…"

"You're coming to bed, so I suppose we should call it late," She mused, reaching down to him, "Where have you been? You look exhausted."

He looked down at himself and realised that, without the stuffed gut and beard, he merely looked festive rather than Santa like. Already though, her eyes had drifted to the box in his hands. As he glanced to check the tag, he found it exposed. By the time he looked back to her Blaze had already followed his gaze. She threw him a curious look, shifting from leading him inside to facing him directly again.

"W-Well, um," She wanted some kind of explanation and if she didn't get it now, she'd figure it out tomorrow when the world was abuzz with talk of mysterious gifts, "After what I said to Marine, an idea came to me. I know Santa doesn't really exis,t but if getting a gift from him would make her happy I thought it was only right to get her one," For some reason, either embarrassment or tiredness or some combination of the two, he was struggling to admit his actions, "The future had lots of abandoned toys, all in good condition, so I boxed them all up and… uhm… delivered them to all of the houses."

Her eyes had gone wide, he felt her grasp tighten, "Silver, what do you mean by all of the houses?"

"At first, I thought just Marine would be enough, then I realised I could do more so I…" The concern on her face was palpable, whether it was at the foolishness of his actions, or the toll they might have taken on his body, Silver was no sure. Regardless, he struggled to give further justification, "I also figured that, since Santa missed you during our years together, he ought to make up for it. It's not the only thing I've got you, I stashed another somewhere in the palace but…" He held the present out to her, "We didn't get to experience the wonder and mystery that's tied to this season, so I made certain that Santa got you something special this year. It's not like all the gifts were hand-picked, outside yours and Marine's they were random, but… it only felt right to…"

She took a step closer, pushing past the red wrapped box and into his soggy form. It was only with her warm touch that he realised quite how cold he was. Wandering through slush and soaring through the clouds had soaked him rather thoroughly. Her warmth almost immediately ate away at that cold, he brought his arm to wrap around her back.

"You're so naïve," The coffee on her breath was blatant, she'd stayed up waiting for him, "People are going to be so confused. I doubt they'll panic, but I'll send out a memo; make it clear that that Santa has actually visited, not some other large man in red."

Silver grimaced, "I'm sorry, I thought-

"Silver," She pulled back a little, still holding him but looking him squarely in the eyes. Her gaze was softer than he'd expected, "You did something good for my world, something ludicrous but ultimately good. Don't you dare apologise," Her hand slipped from his back to the top of her head, prying off his soggy Santa hat before dragging through his quills, "Just, next time, let's do it together. That way it won't come as such a surprise and you won't be run ragged. Honestly, look at you."

"Next time?" As he questioned, she finally tugged him inside.

"This isn't the kind of trick you can pull just once, Silver. People are going to expect it now," The princess flatly explained, "You've put yourself in Santa's shoes."

As Blaze left him, walking to her bedside and drawing up her phone, thoughts overwhelmed him. He hadn't really considered that. Silver had always thought of this as bringing the miracle of Santa Clause to life, not actually becoming him, but Blaze was right. If the miracle happened once, people would expect it again; he hadn't made Santa real, but he'd become a Santa. He'd travelled across this island nation in a single night (albeit, utilising time travel to make the long-distance movements far easier) and delivered presents into each of the houses.

Blaze's voice pulled him from his stupor, "Well, Gardon's already awake and he dared to open his. The news has already started to spread, we can relax," She was smiling at him again, he quickly turned and closed the balcony doors, "I'm sure Marine will run in and wake us up in a handful of hours, we should try to get some sleep at least," She suggested before gesturing across the room and behind him, "If you want, you can put that under the tree with yours, we'll open them when morning properly arrives."

Turning, Silver came face-to-face with a small, very decorated, Christmas tree; a sizeable bundle of parcels piled beneath it. Some of them were addressed to Blaze herself, likely gifts from political figures or castle staff, but the bulk of them were addressed to both him and Marine. One parcel in particular, near the front of the pile, caught his eye. It wasn't addressed to or from Blaze, not like the others. It was to him, from Santa. She'd had the same idea as him, she'd wanted to make up for lost time. This was his first Christmas in the Sol dimension, let alone civilised society; his first opportunity for this kind of thing. While he'd been away, she'd surely been planning for tomorrow.

Not tomorrow, today. He had to be his best for later, both so that Marine wouldn't suspect a thing and so that he could embrace Blaze's efforts to the fullest.

His present set down, a plan in mind to quickly nip out and gather the others that were stashed in the castle, he'd headed towards the door and prepared to wave goodnight only for her hand to catch his again. His brow raised and his head tilted but she just rolled her eyes, unleashing a yawn that was soon echoed by him. He hadn't noticed that the heat rippling off of her had brought him to fully dry, his quills and fluff had frizzed to their maximum. Boots were fought off, he escaped his jacket, and soon the two of them were lying together. Her head found his chest, his chin found her ear and sleep found them both before they could realise it. They were in for an early awakening and a busy day, but they'd managed to spend the first hours of this charitable holiday together, giving the other their whole to make them merry.

[stanskzseungmin]

YJI ~ The Collapse

Not proofread, TODAY WE DIE LIKE MEN. (This is high key my new catchphrase)

Also, thanks tumblr for not showing the gifs I want so idk who the original poster was

District 9 AU ~ Same AU as my Seungmin one, you don’t need to read it to understand this, but it gives out more information about District 9

Genre: Angst

ALSO THIS HAS TRIGGERING TOPICS SO BE WARNED WHEN READING

I wanted to keep it gender neutral, but I’m not that great of a writer to write it in a POV to keep it gender neutral so... yea. I left it at Noona/Hyung, to cater to both audiences? 

~

In this world, after the fall after the world fell apart, all natural life have suffered and waned. Mere grass was a rarity and the people were all herded and separated into different districts. Some districts are insufferable and practically unliveable. People would rather die than live there, there were also districts where the people would just get killed off. 

The sorting always happens from people gathered from outside the walls or just plucking people from preexisting overcrowding districts. You were fortunate enough to manage to change lines during the sorting. The sorting was chaos as more and more people are herded into the small crowded checkpoint. 

"Noona/Hyung?" a small voice squeaked, the boy held onto the fabric of your white hoodie tightly. Even though he towered over you, Yang Jeongin was your precious baby brother.

You both were originally sorted into the line for District 9. You heard horror stories about District 9. That particular district was hell on earth. Many of those got sent there, none returned to tell the tale. Rumors had it that it was one of the purging districts where the people will just get killed off with no prior notice, but no one can say for sure. Only god knew.

Your heart dropped to your stomach when both you and Jeongin were sorted out into the District 9 line. You could not let your precious baby brother live through that hell. You promised him a better life after your parents died during the fall. 

The checkpoint was jam packed with people who still had a hold of their agency. When a large mass of people who still had the ability to feel for themselves knew they were herded towards certain death, certain chaos would arise. Amidst all the screaming, the protests, the pushing and pulling, all the violence and chaos, you managed to slip yourself and Jeongin into a different line to a more favorable district. Any district would be better than District 9. 

“Keep holding onto me, Innie,” you ordered. The boy nodded following your command as he pressed his body closer to yours, his hands gripping your hoodie tightly.

You both find yourselves near the front of the line as a man stood before you. His face was fully covered by a mask and transparent goggles so only his eyes were shown. On the top of his head, he was wearing a white helmet that matched the rest of his clothing. You gulped when you made notice of the stun baton he had in his hand with his arms crossed. 

“Name?” he asked. His gruff voice was muffled and muted by his mask.

Putting your hand on the small of Jeongin’s back you pushed him forward gently. Jeongin audibly gulped as he side stepped your hand to cower his body further behind you.

“Yang Jeongin,” you stated for your brother grabbing his sleeve to pull him forward. You could see the man’s eyes looking at Jeongin’s cowering body as if he’s scrutinizing every nitty bitty details. 

“Please,” his eyes landed back on you. “Let my baby brother in.”

The man didn’t respond. He merely nodded to the two similarly dressed men behind him. The two men pushed forward and grabbed Jeongin by both his arms. Jeongin wailed in fear and panic as he try to wretch his arms free from the harsh grip.

“Noona/Hyung!” Jeongin wailed, crying out to you.

“It’s ok, Innie,” you murmured trying to consolidate your baby brother. “Noona/Hyung will be right behind you, ok?”

Jeongin sniffled and nodded as he was pulled forward and thrown past the fence gate, the gate closing behind him.

“Noona/Hyung!” Jeongin called out, turning back and reaching for the chain link fence gate that separated the two of you. 

“Move!” one of the men bellowed out, bringing the stun baton to the fence. It created a loud CRACK due to the electric shock. Jeongin yelped and jumped backward. 

“Keep going, Innie,” you tried to calm him down. “It’s ok, I’m going to be right behind you.”

“Keep moving,” another man on Jeongin’s side commanded as he shoved Jeongin forward. 

Jeongin hesitantly nodded as walked down the path created by stacks of large metal storage crates on either side. He occasionally looked back at you, but the man kept shoving him forward. His heart beat rapidly as his chest constricted painfully from fear and a lump formed in his throat. 

Jeongin finds himself before a large and wooden gate, a dark oak of sorts that contrasted the various shades of gray surrounding it. The door looked extremely heavy, but the man pulled it open with little effort with one arm and the other gripping Jeongin’s upper arm harshly probably bruising the soft flesh. The man threw Jeongin past the gate as Jeongin fell on the dirt floor with the gate closing behind him. Jeongin fell ungracefully on the floor, his hood fell off during the fall as his white hoodie became brown and dusty from the dirt. 

Jeongin looked up remaining on the ground. He finds himself at a second checkpoint of sorts. He noticed several people pushing up against each other as the overseers and guards come and attempt further separation to only allow in the most useful. The useless gets discarded. It so cramped and chaotic with all the pushing and pulling that someone actually tripped over Jeongin’s sprawled body. Jeongin quickly stood up and repeatedly bowed, apologizing profusely. 

“Stupid kid,” the fallen man growled out.

“I’m sorry,” Jeongin squeaked as the man trudged away with a disapproving and disgusted grunt.  

Jeongin quickly backed off to an empty spot along the wall. Jeongin hid his face within his hood as he looked down fiddling with his sweater paws. Jeongin had a tight grip on his bottom lip in between his teeth as he tried to hold back his tears. His heart dropped down to his stomach as panic wracked his body. He was alone in a strange place full of scary people and violence. He wanted, no he needed you as he whimpered. Being in your arms was like medicine, your warmth chased all his maladies away and it felt like the world was disappearing around him as he felt safe and secure in your warm embrace.

His thoughts of you were interrupted by a hand firmly latching on his forearm. Reflexively, Jeongin burst into screams as the dam he put up to hold back his tears burst open and tears flowed down his face freely. Jeongin struggled against the grip as his free hand attempted to pray away the fingers that was holding onto him. 

“Innie! Innie, Innie. It’s ok. Innie, it’s me,” the voice called out soothing the frightened boy. 

“Noona/Hyung?” Jeongin whimpered sniffling as he looked up to the familiar voice.

“I’m here, Innie,” you smiled gently. “I’m right here.”

Jeongin ran into your outstretched arms wrapping his around your frame as he sobbed into your neck. You rubbed circles on his back to calm down your baby brother. You pulled back slightly to cup Jeongin’s face. You looked deep into his glossy red puffy eyes,

“Stay strong, baby, ok?” you whispered. “We’re almost there, Innie, ok?”

Jeongin sniffled nodding into your hands as he wiped his snot away with his sleeve. 

“Come on, we need to head through that gate,” you reached out for his hand intertwining your fingers with his.

“I’m scared.”

“I know, baby,” you caressed his cheek.

“I don’t want to die.”

“I’m not going to let that happen, Innie,” you lifted up your pinky. “I promise.”

Jeongin nodded linking his pinky with yours.

“There,” you pointed out to the open gate where they’re allowing people in.

“Lead the way, Jeongin,” you whispered to him.

Jeongin nodded in understanding. His tall figure could easily push past people while your smaller frame can stay close behind him. Jeongin gulped as he began pushing past the people. His ears felt clogged as the loud screaming and protest seemed so far away as the open gate leading into the district seemed to glow as if it’s the gates of heaven. 

“Keep going, Innie,” your voice called out. “I’m right behind you.”

Jeongin could single out your voice from the crowd as it calmed his racing heart. Jeongin yelped in fear as a gunshot rang throughout the air, Jeongin froze at the sight of the overseers who were pulling aside people at random and shooting them between the eyes.

“Don’t look, Innie! Just keep going,” you pushed him forward towards the gate away from the scene.

His heart was racing once more as adrenaline pulsed through his veins. He grabbed and pulled at the people before him and shoving them out of the way as Jeongin continue to press forward towards the gate. He ignored their cries, the gunshots, the screams, ignoring everything.

“Don’t stop, Innie. Don’t stop!” your voice gave him the confidence and adrenaline rush to keep pushing past the people and swallowing his fear.

Jeongin’s heart would skip a beat whenever an overseer would get too close to him. The guards would grab a person next to Jeongin, in front, behind and even those Jeongin shoved aside. With tears flowing down his face, he pushed for the open gate ignoring the many people pushing him with the same goal. He was so close. He was so very close. Once he’s through the gate, he’ll be safe.

Jeongin failed to notice that within the chaos, he had been separated from his noona/hyung.

Jeongin exclaimed happily as he was practically home free past the gate. He sprinted down the street as far from the gate as he can as he ducked behind a corner and celebrated with a bright smile.

“We did it! Noona/Hyung! We made...” Jeongin trailed off turning around not seeing you behind him. 

“Noona/Hyung?” Jeongin’s voice cracked.

“NOONA/HYUNG!” he screamed out running back towards the gate. The many people barreling in tried to push past him and even grabbing him to prevent him from re-entering the chaos in the checkpoint. Jeongin sobbed as he tossed aside their hands.

“Noona/Hyung!” Jeongin called out as the familiar fear and panic settled back in.

“Has anyone seen my Noona/Hyung?” Jeongin wailed as the people tried to push past him.

They all gazed at him in pity understanding his pain of separation, they too lost someone close to them amidst the chaos. No one could provide aid, nor did they want to. They had to fight for their own survival. After all, it was every man for themselves.

“Please,” Jeongin sobbed pulling at people’s hoods trying to find the familiar face.

~

Outside the gate, at the checkpoint,

Screams and wails were heard echoing as people were pulled aside being gunned down.

On the cold dirt ground, that is rapidly being tainted and painted red,

You lie there, along with many others,

With hooded eyes and a slack jaw

With a singular bullet hole shot straight in between your eyes.

[chillmichelle]

Bad Nights

Shawn and Y/N are best friends in love with each other, so why does he keep being with other girls?

Word count: 4.8K

Angst & Fluff

-

November, 2012

“Don’t worry, Y/N, i’ll be fine.” Shawn has a little too much gel in his hair as he places his headphones in his ears, one after the other. There are small pimples scattering across his forehead, and his braces make his words seem a little slurred, but he confidently (Although Y/N can tell he’s nervous enough to practically shit his pants) stands in front of the movie theater, waiting for Jess to show up.

“Well, I guess if you say so…” She trails off, still feeling uneasy about leaving her best friend there. Shawn had liked Jess since the sixth grade, and now he finally had a shot at actually dating her. He’d been so excited, the date being the only thing he’d talked about for the past few days. Y/N had helped him choose what outfit to wear, what movie to see, and shown him the basic principles of getting her to like him.

Drowning in his father’s cologne, Shawn stands at his tall height in front of the local movie theatre, eyes occasionally shifting to the automatic wristwatch on his right wrist. He nervously tilts back and forth on the pads of his feet, seeing that as the minutes roll by his mind fills with more possible reasons why she isn’t there.

Y/N, who he assumes trudged off a while ago, stands at the corner of the movie theatre, staring at her unknowing best friend who teeters more and more. Y/N counts the minutes as they tick by, and with every person who walks into the theatre (some of them apologetically staring at the cold, defeated boy out front) his expression deepens, frown drooping more and more.

The movie’s started at that point, Jess is 30 minutes past when he was supposed to meet her. He runs the dialogue Y/N’s been feeding him through his head.

“You look beautiful.”

“Don’t worry, i’ll pay.”

“I’m glad you came out tonight.”

His heart is shattered, the one girl he’s had his hopes up for since the 6th grade had finally given him a chance, and then when his hopes had gone up, she’d abandoned him and stood him up. Shawn takes a seat on the bench in front of the movie theatre, not caring if anyone sees him as he bows his head.

Y/N takes this as her chance, she walks out from where she’s been silently watching him from afar and walks to where he sits sadly on the bench. Shawn, who wants nothing more than to sit there and disappear, think’s she’s just another person walking by. But then he hears the footsteps stop right in front of him, and spots the snow boots he gifted her for her 14th birthday on her feet, and his head lifts to meet her eyes.

“Hey Curly, don’t sit here looking like a debby downer when there’s whole spiderman movie going on inside.” Y/N pulls her cold hand out of her pocket, using it to grab his fist as she tugs on it for him to stand up. He looks defeated, eyes swollen, and Y/N can tell he’s properly heartbroken from being stood up.

“Just because the night doesn’t turn out like you want it to, doesn’t mean it’s a shitty night. When I first met you, you were putting gum in my hair.” She tells him, ruffling his improperly gelled hair and tousling the messy waves.

Shawn smiles a little but, lips just barely perking upwards, but Y/N is happy nonetheless, and she pulls his hand, which has now unraveled from his fist, and leads the way into the movie theatre.

-

“Shawn if you don’t fucking get your flat ass back here right now, I swear to god I will rip every curly strand off of your head!”

Y/N climbs over the mess of sheets on her bed, stubby legs trying to run after him as he dips out into the hallway of her home. Her phone is gripped tightly in his hand and he laughs as he merely jogs, long legs still giving him the ability to be far ahead of her.

“You’ve been on this phone since I got here!” He says, sprinting down the wooden stairs to her home. As he makes his way into the kitchen, he hears little feet pad down the stairs behind him.

“That’s because it’s important!” She yells back, finally having caught up to him. They circle around the counter, Shawn turning on her phone and quickly entering in her password. She takes his distraction to quickly run towards him, hands reaching out to snatch the phone out of her hands. He immediately raises his arm up, his height giving him the advantage as Y/N stands on her tippy toes and tries to retrieve her precious device.

“Wow, who’s Grant?” Shawn asks, eyebrows going up and down as he scrolls through the conversation on her phone. Y/N’s cheeks immediately flush, knowing that their conversations weren’t necessarily the friendliest. She jumps up to grab her phone, and fails once more.

Shawn’s eyebrows stay furrowed as he reads through the messages. His heart tightens up a bit, stomach weirdly flipping inside of him as he reads the displays of affection exchanged between them. Playing it off subtly, he clears his throat and laughs, tickling her sides before handing the phone back to her.

He should be used to it by now, but he isn’t.

Shawn had been standing by Y/N for the past fifteen year of their lives. They’d been closer than any of their other friends, having more inside jokes and spending more time with each other than anyone else in their group had. Y/N remembered the time he suckered her into the school choir, despite her tone deaf voice, and laughed with him time to time about how the choir teacher made her stand in the corner of the stage and play the triangle so that her voice wouldn’t throw off the whole performance.

Growing up, it seemed as if they were inseparable. People always thought they were dating, and when they would both deny the accusations (which people never believed), the suspicion grew even more. After all, Shawn and Y/N were both attached by the hip all the time.

But when Shawn left for tour at 15, things changed a bit every time he came back home.

He was never really in Pickering for long, and neither was she anymore, now that she’d gone off to college. When he would visit every few months ( if it were up to him it would be more often), she’d hear different stories about him from other people, ones that she didn’t want to believe were true, but ones that she knew were.

Y/N wouldn’t necessarily say that she was in love with Shawn.

Of course, she loved him as a friend. She loved the little dimples that he had during his chubby phase in elementary school, and she loved the way that his eyes changed shades depending on his moods. She always knew how to read him, and when Shawn went missing for hours on end after getting into a fight with his family, she always knew to find him behind the sketchy Gas station in front of their old elementary school, a handful of quarters in his pocket as he stress chews packs of gum and writes song lyrics into his mind.

So why did she feel that way every time she heard another story of him coming back from tour, to hook up with another girl who wouldn’t have dared to be with him if he wasn’t who he was? Why did her stomach feel uneasy whenever an advertisement for a gossip magazine, with him hugging a supermodel who was dressed in his clothing, bother her so much?

Why did she coincidentally get drunk every time he stood her up when he came back home?

She wasn’t exactly sure. She loved him, but she didn’t want to be in love with him. She was well aware that there wasn’t any way that he felt the same way as she did.

So she drowned herself in other boys, ones that just happened to also have hazel eyes and a head of curly hair. Ones that happened to also enjoy John Mayer, and ones that also just happened to play guitar.

She wasn’t the proudest she could be at her choices, ut what choice did she have, really? He was a celebrity, no matter how much he felt like her best friend from home.

Tucking her phone back into the waistband of her sweats, Y/N shoots Shawn a glare, flipping him off before she turns around to grab a cookie from the small carton she’d purchased. The carton was almost empty, and she sighed knowing that she’d eventually have to go back to the grocery store.

“So, tell me about this Grant guy?” Shawn asks, leaning his elbows onto the kitchen counter and placing his chin in the palm of his hand as he awaits her answer like a giddy school girl. Y/N scoffs, tucking a cookie into her mouth before speaking with her mouth full.

“There’s really nothing to say. It’s just a fling, I don’t really want a relationship right now.” She shortly answers. Unless it’s with you, she thinks to herself, but mentally slaps herself in the face. Shawn nods, trying to hide the feeling of hurt flinch at him from her words.

I don’t really want a relationship right now.

Shawn was sure that he was in love with Y/N.

It had taken him a while to admit it to himself, but he had been in town one night, visiting their hometown and strolling through the streets of his neighborhood, and he had seen a small basketball hoop on the side of the walls of one of the homes.

He immediately thought back to their childhood. When Shawn was 9, his parents had gotten him a portable basketball goal for their large driveway. After a day of practicing (missing all of the shots) basketball one day, with Y/N cheering him on jokingly from the sidelines, he’d fallen and scraped his knee on the asphalt. Instead of going inside and giving him a proper bandaid, Y/N had taken a scrunchie off of her wrist, and placed it on top of the wound on Shawn’s knee.

He still had the scrunchie lying around somewhere in his bedroom.

There was a party going on that night, and Shawn remembered seeing various childhood friends getting drunk at the party that was a short 10 minute walk away from where he was. Then he recalled seeing the video of Y/N, drunkenly singing along to a song from the early 2000’s, her arms pulling someone’s neck closer to hers.

And it had bothered him.

A lot.

Shawn had noticed from then on the feeling he would get whenever she would mention anyone else. He tried to fight his feeling, tried to find love in other girls, tried to save his friendship by stopping his feelings for his best friend. But after a while he noticed how all the girls he’d be attracted to, would have traces of her with them.

That girl at the bar looks pretty, he would think.

Shit, she looks like Y/N.

Shawn knew that one of these days, he was bound to say at least something to her. That’s why he would sometimes cancel his plans with her, he was so afraid of slipping up and letting her know that he loved her in some way. And as much as he did love her, he knew that having any of her was better than having none of her at all.

So he swallowed her words about not wanting a relationship, mentally cursed out whoever this Grant guy was in his head, and stole a few of her cookies, stress eating his way through his problems.

-

Y/N’s sitting next to Shawn in the passenger seat of his jeep, her legs are dangling due to how high the seats are, and she watches the way his arms flex as he rolls the steering wheel with his wrists on the surface.

“Remember the monkey bars at that place?” Shawn points to the abandoned preschool, vines forming over the worn out concrete structures. It was where Shawn and Y/N had both met, growing up on the crappy equipment together.

“I’m pretty sure our entire grade got the flu from those bars.” Y/N laughs, remembering the time her and Shawn both got sick. She swears that it was him who sniffled first, but he always assured her it was her who gave it to him.

Their reminiscing is cut short when Shawn’s phone suddenly buzzes a number of times all at once. Multiple texts hit his phone and Y/N, without thinking, reaches down to grab it from where it’s connected to the aux.

“I’ll check it”

She expects to see a text from his mum, or his sister, maybe his friends about hanging out now that he’s back in town for the winter, but instead she’s met with an array of text messages from various other girls.

She sees some of the texts have attachments sent with them, vulgar words pressing at the conversations that he was apparently having. Y/N’s stomach feels a bit sick from the flirty nature of all of the messages, and she quietly puts his phone back down onto the console before closing her mouth and waiting for the tears welling at her eyes to dry away.

“Y/N, they’re just-”

“It’s none of my business, Shawn.” Her heart pokes against the frame of her ribcage, the small piece of hope that she had that maybe, just maybe he could like her back being shredded as she stares out through the foggy, iced up window of his car.

-

Shawn stands on her front porch, a small bundle of daisies in his hand as he nervously paces back and forth. His footsteps are quiet on the hardwood of her patio, and he presses on in his head what to say to her.

He hadn’t been this nervous since his first performance.

He finally gathers his thoughts together, hands lifting up in a loose fist to knock at her door, but before his knuckles can reach the door, the door swings open and in a panic, Shawn throws the daisies over the bush next to the porch.

“Shawn?” Y/N’s eyes are wide. She has a cute little blush to her cheeks, and Shawn wants nothing more than to lean forward and shower he soft skin in kisses. He refrains, though, and clears his throat as he replies.

Why was he so fucking nervous?

“Hey.” His voice cracks as he speaks, he feels embarrassed at the action, but is relieved when Y/N lets out a snort, laughing at his mistake.

“What are you doing here?” She asks him, fingers tapping against the back of her phone as she awaits an answer.

“Thought maybe you’d want to go to the movies or something?” He suggests. His eyebrows raise and he gives her a soft look, and she’s reminded of how he looked back in secondary school.

“I’d love to Shawn, but I can’t. I have plans tonight, maybe tomorrow?” His heart drops a little, but he keeps his composure. Before he can reply, a pair of headlights flashes it’s way behind the two of them, and Shawn snaps his neck backwards to see a sports car pulling into her driveway.

The door to the expensive looking car opens, and a tall boy (not as tall as Shawn, but still tall) steps out of the vehicle. He has a bundle of daisies in his hand, and Shawn immediately curses himself for panicking and throwing them behind the bush.

“Y/N? You ready to go?” His voice is deep, hair perfectly done in a messy neat kind of way and Shawn hates it because he looks like a good guy. A guy who could give her a good time, without having any phony articles written about him or fans hating on his girl. Y/N lets out a little smile, a dreamy one that Shawn would admire if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t the one causing it.

“Yeah! Get back in the car Grant, it’s chilly outside.”

Y/N looks up at Shawn, her eyebrows raising a bit, “I’ll see you, Shawn.”

“Yeah, t-tomorrow?” He stutters out and she merely nods before walking towards Grant’s car. He waits for her, opening the door of the car before closing it behind her, and pulling out the driveway. Shawn stays standing on her porch, daisies scattered across her lawn as his chest aches a little bit at watching her leave.

-

“Heard Shawn had quite the night with that instagram model who goes to Western.” Y/N munches on some complementary pretzels as Brian speaks loudly to his friends across from her. Shawn’s excused himself to go to the restroom, and right as he leaves the boys continue talking about his crazy adventures as a celebrity.

Her heart aches just a little bit, and to relieve the tension, she fills the rest of her body with beer and floury chips. Her mind is a bit gone and she refrains from any sort of conversation in fear of giving herself away.

“Gotta give the man some credit, he has good game.” Im laughs as he reaches forward to steal a pretzel from the bowl held in Y/N’s lap. She slaps his hand away and stuff two more down her lips.

“Can I get a fucking pretzel?” Ian playfully questions. Y/N shakes her head, mouth too full to give a response. When she swallows a bit later, she opens her mouth to speak again.

“Why do you all always insist on talking about Shawn’s love life instead of getting one of your own?” She digs, a bit pissed off at them. She knows it’s not at all their fault, but she can’t help her emotions getting the best of her.

“Jesus Y/N, what’s got you so worked up?” Brian spits back at her, actually sounding a bit defensive. Y/N reaches for another pretzel, but faces disappointment when she realizes the bowl is empty.

The truth is that Brian was right. She had no right to be upset, at all in fact. She wondered to herself. If she hadn’t gone out with Grant, and if she’d instead gone to a movie with Shawn, would he have not slept with someone else that night?

Y/N knows she shouldn’t be talking. But last night she had begrudgingly ended things with Grant. He was a nice guy, and she knew of it for sure, but he wasn’t Shawn. She was planning on spending more time with him, maybe seeing what they could be to see if she felt anything more than friendship towards him.

And then he’d slept with someone else.

Did that mean that he didn’t like her at all? Did it, perhaps, mean that she’d given up Grant for no real reason? She wanted to believe that she had made the right choice in ending things with him. After all, she knew she had all of these feelings for Shawn that she was unsure of.

But was she trying for nothing?

“Did you finally realize you’re head over heels in love with Shawn?” She hears Ian say, and she’s immediately snapped back into reality.

“What?�� She quickly asks, head snapping over to look at Ian. He has a relaxed expression on his face, the alcohol clearly having taken the edge off of him as he leans against the booth with his body slouching off of it.

“Well you’re in love with him.” He tells her, expression scrunching up after he says it, “Aren’t you?”

Y/N gulps, she didn’t want anyone else to know, especially Shawns friends. But on another hand, they were also her friends.

The part that conflicts her the most is the fact that she doesn’t even know how she feels. Was she in love with Shawn? Maybe. She was definitely bothered by the idea of him being with someone who wasn’t her. He knew her better than most people did, and he’d always at east made an effort to talk to her whenever he was home.

But he was Shawn.

He travelled the world every other month, probably getting with tons of other pretty girls in the process. He wouldn’t have time for her, and he wouldn’t like her after all of the other amazing girls he had the ability to be with. Y/N knew there was no way her feelings were reciprocated.

So she blames the beer when she nods lightly, eyes staring down at the bar table as she accepts the fact that there’s no way he’d ever want someone like her, no matter how much she misses him when he’s not home.

“Pretty fucking obvious.” Brian remarks and she turns to glare at him, throwing a crumpled up wrapper from a plastic straw at his face before huffing and leaning down to take another sip of her beer.

“Just drop it, i’m sure that he wouldn’t want me anyways.” She grumbles, head ducking down uncomfortably. The boys shrug, and they change the subject to some recent hockey match their school had. Y/N debates leaving, and she boredly fiddles with the napkins on the table before she feels a quick tug on her hood.

“Can I have a word with you?” Shawn stands behind her, jaw clenched, and he looks a little bit angry from what she can see. Her head hurts a bit from processing the words, and she’s aware that he probably heard her entire conversation with the boys.

When she doesn’t respond, he grabs her hand and pulls her out of the booth, walking her to the counter of the bar where the bartender stands with a cleaning rag and an empty glass in his hand.

The stand silently, both obviously overwhelmed by the plethora of information. She stares at the prefilled bowls of pretzels behind the bar, and feels like asking for one. Instead, she lowers her head and remembers where she is: Standing in front of Shawn, having just admitted that she’s in love with him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice sounds strained, as if he’s trying to keep it quiet. Y/N doesn’t want to be in front of him, especially when he seems irritated and angry, but she swallows her fear and responds.

“Just, didn’t want to ruin our friendship, I guess.” She quietly responds, tucking her bottom lip into her teeth. The room feels suffocating and her arms begin to sweat.

“Y/N, you should’ve told me.” He sternly says, “You have no idea what this means.” His eyes close and he shakes his head, stoic expression on his face. He smells like cologne and Y/N wants to tuck her face into his neck and just hug him. She then remembers that she might’ve just ruined their entire friendship, and her imagination shuts off.

“It’s embarrassing.” She truthfully admits. It’s embarrassing to her, yes, because she knows there’s no way someone as successful and amazing as him could ever love her back. She knows she’s stupid for loving him, and it kills her that he seems angry at her feelings. She knows just how much she’s going to be devastated because she’s in love with him, and all he sees is red.

“It’s embarrassing to be in love with me?” His expression hardens even more, if it’s possible and Y/N nods her head.

“Y/N, i’ve been in love with you for-” He takes a deep breath, “The longest fucking time.”

Y/N doesn’t know how to feel. Her shoulders feel empty, mood lifting, and she knows she’s no longer sad. But now she feels a surge of hurt rush over her.

He was in love with her, but he still messed around with all of those girls?

Grant was the first boy Y/N had ever given a chance since Shawn had left for tour, since they were both 15. Y/N never got further than an awkward kiss with Grant, mostly because it felt wrong to do so when she knew she had feelings for someone else.

And here he was, a hundred models literally in his contact list as he tries to tell her he’s been in love with her all this time.

“You were in love with me?” She asks Shawn, her voice raising a bit as she no longer feels sad, “You were in love with me.” She repeats to herself, eyes darting into midair as she processes his words.

“Well then why did you talk to all those other girls?” She questions, wanting to clear things up before she’s sure that they have a solid chance. She sees Shawn gulp, a habit he has when he’s intimidated and her heart drops a bit because she knows he hasn’t changed.

“Shawn, you know how shitty I felt every time I would hear you got with another girl?” She bites at the skin of her lip, nibbling on the chapped skin, “You even cancelled on me sometimes just to hookup with other girls.”

Her lips curve downward. Shawn chokes, he thought that her reciprocating his feelings meant they would actually have a chance at being together, but he’d neglected all of his mistakes in his mental image of them together.

“That was-” He clears his throat, “A mistake.”

Y/N scoffs, “A mistake you made up until last night.”

Shawn knows it’s not supposed to be like this, they were supposed to be happy when they found out they loved each other. He’d been imagining this moment for months, yet now that it was here, it was so different. All because of his stupid decisions.

“Shawn  just found out I love you.” She tells him, sadness lacing her voice, “But i’m just not sure if you love me back.”

Shawn wants to step forward, and lock his lips against hers. He wants to tell her he loves the way she sometimes snorts when she laughs, or how her hair tangles in the morning, or how he knows every single detail about her from the day her parents separated, to how she likes her eggs. He wants to show her the photo album on his phone of candid pictures he took, just admiring her. Wants to run his fingers down her skin like he’d always dreamt of doing.

“Of course I love you.” He defends himself harshly, “I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you!” He tries to tell her. She shakes her head, not believing any of her words, but why should she? He hadn’t given her a single reason to make her believe he was serious about her. He sometimes declines her calls on tour, and he’d slept with another girl just the night before.

“Shawn, give me your phone.” She asks him. He furrows his eyebrows, not knowing what she’s trying to do.

“What?”

“Give me your phone.” She tells him more urgently. He grabs the device out of his back pocket, handing it over to her quickly, and she taps in the password before pressing on the messages icon.

Scrolling through the texts and contacts, Y/N feels her heart sink deeper and deeper. Now she was definitely sure that there was no way he loved her. He had the audacity to exchange these - these words with all of these other girls just moments before he had told her he loved her, and how was she supposed to believe him?

Shawn feels disappointed in himself, because his careless actions may have just costed him the one thing he’s wanted. The one thing that money, or fame, or acclaim can’t buy him. Her.

She clicks his phone off, half heartedly paying it onto the wooden bar counter before shamefully looking down at her shoes. Shawn doesn’t know how to fix things, or if she’ll ever want to be with him.

“I love you, Shawn.” She tells him, and Shawn’s heart skips a few beats at her words alone, “I’m just not sure if you’re ready to love me.”

And when she walks past him, coat clutched to her chest as she stumbles out of the cozy bar, shawn can’t help but smile a bit to himself as he remembers that the night may not be shitty, just because it didn’t turn out like he hoped it would.

[hinabes]

Soft Serve Cone’s Backstory

A story about promises.

I.World Demolition

It was the best of times-- Humans had bested the elves and created a new world where they ruled.

It was the worst of times-- Fallen angels, bad guys born from the curses of elves, kept invading human settlements.

“--And you food souls,” With an air of self-satisfaction, Westminster went on and on, talking about things I didn’t really understand while he struck a match.

“See, you guys are like the flame. While we humans are the friction on the match, in the end, you guys are the lit fuse.”

He turned to face me, the prancing, flickering flame in his hand putting a crafty smile on his face, eyes brightly lit.

“Little Cone, are you afraid?” “What’s there to be afraid of! Go on! Toss it in to see what happens!”

I didn’t want to listen to his boring and cryptic philosophies and pestered him to toss the match in the fuse notch of the experiment.

“Hahaha, you’re so like me!”

He let go. The burning match fell into the notch and the fuse instantly lit, its flame racing into the inner workings of the experiment. Sparks flew, and Westminster grabbed my hand, pulling me to duck away.

A huge explosion resounded, followed by Westminster’s excited chatter.

“--And so, let’s blow this world up.”

Alas, moments later.

“Ah… Another failure!”

I picked through the debris of the experiment for the thing we were refining for, to no avail.

“Don’t get too down, failure is but another step to success.” Westminster comforted me.

“This… Alright, how are you able to convince me every time?” “Because I’m a genius, best scientist in the world.”

“Say that all you want… You’re just a student… Crap! Let’s run, someone triggered the ice trap I put by the entrance! It must be the warehouse guard!” “What? Isn’t today the open house? Shouldn’t that guy be having a blast at the idol performance?”

Westminster was shoved forward by me, his shock not impeding his complaints.

“Who knows, let’s get out first!”

“Party pooper… I’ve already come up with the next experiment too… Coney, I’ll definitely become a professor here in the future and build my very own lab here! Nobody will disturb me then!”

“Alright alright, you’ll definitely get it! As long as you don’t get caught sneaking into a warehouse and kicked out of school today!”

I collected the moisture in the air to form a snowflake, making our escape on it through the skylight as always. The sparrows sleeping on a cedar tree outside were startled awake and jostled about with chirps and screeches, followed by the angered complaints of the tardy security guard.

Westminster and I shared a smile. --This was the most interesting experience I had at the magic academy.

II. Life Creation

To me, I was quite lucky. Because the first person to summon me was an interesting guy.

He was Westminster, and he often proclaimed himself the “number one science prodigy” to me. Though in reality, this was just something he said.

In the Academy, Westminster wasn’t on particularly good terms with the other students. He said that prodigies have always been alone since time immemorial as nobody understood them, so he didn’t bother with the common folk.

That was why, even though it was the celebrated open house when all the students were having fun with their families, friends and other visitors, I was the only one by his side.

“Hey, Westminster, since we can’t continue the experiments, where should we go?” “Where do you want to go?” “Hmm… We could take a look at the fallen angel weapons display? Or the master attendant appliances display?” “Those are all plagiarized off my work, what’s there to see?” “Then… the puppet show?” “That time would be better spent researching how to make puppets move by themselves.” “...Then what do you want?” “It’s getting late, let’s go back to the dorms.” “...Hey! Westminster!” “What?”

I turned around somewhat angrily to see him innocently grinning at me. We were flying above the school, wind whooshing past our faces.

“It’s my birthday!” “What did you say, the wind’s too loud!”

He played dumb, and I got ready to shake the snowflake under us--

“Hey hey hey, alright alright, I heard it!” He laughed out loud. “I remember! How could I forget your birthday? I’m going back to the dorms to get the tent and warm clothes I prepared--”

Like a conductor, he pointed elegantly towards the snowy peaks looming over the academy grounds.

“Then we’ll go there, how about it? We’ll get to see lots of stars.” “Woah! Let’s go!”

This was why I was happy to be with him; he made every new day unlike any that came before.

My birthday’s easy to remember, it’s the annual Academy open house.

It’s been so many years.

Back then, Westminster wasn’t so arrogant as to go against the proceedings. He, like the other students, was assigned a task-- To create something new that will be on display in the exhibition, that will be promoted and advertised to visitors from around the world.

Teachers and students alike were worried over what sort of “hazard” Westminster would create, but he went against his usual antics.

He didn’t create anything like the music box that could wake a dormant fallen angel, nor the perfume that could revert a food soul into an uncontrollable younger form.

Using cream made from a base of water from the Lake of Ice Tears, he created ice cream that wouldn’t melt. He then baked a thin omelet till it was hard and crispy, which he placed the ice cream into-- --That’s right, that’s the food I’m based on: the soft serve cone.

The day of the open house, the soft serve cone that was very convenient and didn’t create waste was well received and praised by the guests. Westminster managed to sell cart after cart of it.

Unable to keep up with its popularity with the visitors, Westminster received a permit from the Academy for large-scale extraction of water from the Lake of Ice Tears. He then extracted and collected the inedible magic crystal components of the water in secret.

The last day of the open house, Westminster somehow sneaked into the vault of the old enchantment furnace behind the main hall, and using ice cream infused with magic crystal energies, he summoned me.

“Hey, Little Cone. I’m Westminster. Welcome to the world of Tierra.”

He stood before me, face covered with machine oil, yet his eyes shone bright.

III. Remember the Stars

Atop the snowy peaks.

I sat in the tent with Westminster, stars circling the sky above us, and I saw in them his eyes when we first met. I never could find an apt comparison, but it suddenly came to me that night, under the stars.

“Are these stars your birthday gift to me?” “Stars are the universe’s reply to stargazers. And you, are the universe’s reply to me.”

I blushed.

“Sounds nice and all, but if you can’t take it, you can’t keep it.”

Westminster opened his eyes and reached out his right hand, grabbing nothing but air.

“We’ll come more in the future, you’ll remember them after looking at them more.” “There are so many stars, there’s no way I can remember them all.” “How will you know if you don’t try?”

Some things are only proven to be impossible when you try.

“Westminster, are we going to the mountains tonight?” “Not tonight, there’s an assignment I have to do.”

“Westminster, can we go stargazing? Even the school observatory is fine.” “Sorry, I have to record experiment data tonight… I might have to stay in the warehouse late into the night.”

… Slowly, I understood-- Change is the law of the universe, people and stars both change, new interests, new goals, new lights at the end of the tunnel. Nothing stayed the same forever.

Not excluding Westminster and me.

Not long after the trip to the snowy peaks, one day, Westminster and I sneaked into the warehouse through the skylight again. This was our secret base; besides having to avoid the security guard and covering up our traces as those of stray cats and birds, many successful experiments went on here.

But this time, we had an unexpected encounter. He seemed to be a teacher or a higher member of the Academy staff.

“Crap, what if he’s forced to drop out…”

As Westminster was taken away, I had uneasy thoughts. If Westminster had to quit, would I have to as well? Would the outside world be more interesting than here?

But I was wrong. After a long chat with the person, Westminster returned with the happiest expression he’s ever had.

“Haha, didn’t I tell you, I’m a genius!” He showed me the key in his hand. “Coney, I’ve got my own lab from now on!”

Seeing him so ecstatic, I felt oddly worried.

IV. Promise of Reunion

From then on, it was as if Westminster became a different person. He was very, very busy, often falling asleep in the warehouse, going days and nights without food or water, mumbling to himself in front of various strange devices and data.

“Empty shell, empty shell.” Often did I find him chanting to himself repeatedly.

Westminster told me that the mysterious man offered him limitless riches and power for him to research the creation of food souls and life itself. And empty shells were what he couldn’t wrap his head around.

Westminster always said that empty shells were food souls with practically no soul power, and their existence proved that food souls were more than soul-powered weapons created by humans, that food souls were preexisting beings. Then, what power does the human’s imagination hold that is able to summon us unknown life-forms? As he got more and more engrossed in the topic, he said that behind all of this hid the secrets and origins of the world and soul power.

In the beginning, I was still able to understand what he was talking about. Later on, the lab’s security got tighter and tighter. Finally, one day, as I was flying in through the skylight, I was blocked by a strange, invisible barrier.

That day, only when it turned to night did Westminster trudge out of the warehouse, exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, his unshaven face making him seem decades older. It was as if the warehouse was a man-eating demon, having consumed all of his life force. He faced me, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“Sorry, Coney, my experiments are dangerous, so I can’t let you into the lab from now on.” “I wasn’t coming to disturb you, I just…”

I lowered my head, doing my best to hold in the sadness-- I just wanted to tell you, it was the day of the open house. Have you forgotten my birthday too?

I didn’t want to cry. I’ve never cried. The ice from the Lake of Ice Tears will never melt, and having inherited its properties, how could I ever cry?

“Coney…”

Suddenly, my hand was grasped.

“Come with me.”

I followed Westminster dazedly. We didn’t follow the usual path, instead, he brought me into the majestic main hall and after making a few turns, we somehow came to a secret passageway.

“In here, we won’t be found by anyone. Shh, don’t tell anyone either.”

He brought me into the warehouse.

It was completely different from when I was created; filled with strange, rotating devices, it had become a real lab.

Still holding my hand, Westminster led me into the depths of the lab and handed me something that looked like a telescope.

“Look.” “At what? The kaleidoscope?” “Even better”

Withholding my disbelief, I looked into the telescope. --To see a skyline out of this world, with the brightest stars I’ve seen.

It was the same sky we saw that night on the snowy peaks, stars in neverending rotation; there were two particularly eye-catching ones, swimming in irregular orbits.

“Happy birthday.”

I heard Westminster’s voice. Averting my sight, I saw his forced smile, an uneasy premonition settling over me.

“See those two stars?”

Westminster patted my head, the coarseness of his hand unfitting of a young man.

“I might have to leave this place.” “Remember, when those two stars come together… I’ll be back.”

V. Soft Serve Cone

Nevras is home to the best academy of all of Tierra, the Academy of Magic.

It is the genius’ cradle, one of whom being Soft Serve Cone’s master attendant.

He was the youngest professor in the academy and had his own laboratory, and with the support of a mysterious investor, he researched food souls in utmost secrecy.

Due to the high security of the research, for a long time, Soft Serve Cone was separated from her master attendant and was unable to see him.

Later, for the next stage of his research, Westminster left the academy for a long-term study, declining Soft Serve Cone’s request to go with him.

And so, Soft Serve Cone stayed behind at the academy, and entrusted by Westminster and his investor, she lived fruitfully and was allowed to take part in the various classes the academy offered.

Like a human student, she studied everything she found interesting.

Time flew by, until that year, that open house.

A bored Soft Serve Cone picked up the kaleidoscope on a whim, to see the two stars suddenly come together. Her heart beat fast as she dashed to the warehouse-turned-secret-lab.

Passing through the secret passageway, opening the door, she saw the absent professor.

“Is that… you?”

Soft Serve Cone hesitated. The figure of the person before her had changed far too much.

“Long time no see, Little Cone. Now… will you create a new world with me?”

TL Notes

EVERY SINGLE TIME! Every single backstory’s chapter 4 just gets me soft and kinda wanna cry! Every single time! How does funtoy keep doing this!

This one was kinda very a little bit self indulgent.......... stars.......... kaleidoscopes............. deep lore............. westminster............. the academy.............. cute gorl............ its got it all.....................

The significance of the kaleidoscope: 

Soft Serve Cone in Chinese is 冰淇淋花筒 (bing qi lin hua tong, lit. ice cream flower cone, where the last 2 characters mean “flower cone”). 

Kaleidoscope is 万花筒 (wan hua tong, lit. million flower cone), feelssoftman

“The figure of the person before her had changed far too much.” haha funney joaks hahah

lil coney here better not be lookin at this and thinking “omg westy is that u??????” unless he already looked like this as a human in which case WHAT THE FUCK

anyway. this entire story is a lot of feelssoftman. see ya im off to make a kaleidoscope and cry a little from the softness

also if u were wondering yes the original does swap between kaleidoscope and telescope like that one katy perry song

[ancient-artificer]

Treasure Hunters: Morgan’s Lost Chest

A Gajevy AU oneshot mix of Pirates of the Caribbean and The Mummy. 

Two professional treasure hunters clash while they desperately seek the lost chest of the infamous pirate, Captain Morgan. During their excavation, they run into a little dead-end...

Rated M for language and possible frightening descriptions.

4k+ words. Also found on ff.net.

This is what happens when you eat too many chocolate espresso beans and ask chat for a prompt (thanks btw). Up all night writing due to heavy insomnia, unending inspiration, and literal magic beans.’

 Treasure Hunters: Morgan's Lost Chest

'Salty' wasn't a term used in his daily vocabulary, but Gajeel was sure it was a better word than what came to mind for the tiny spitfire currently berating his excavation team on the main deck. With a quick sigh, he tilted his head and emptied the soda can of its last drops.

The Sea Withers' weather deck carried the large various equipment needed to unearth what they all hoped would lead to the fabled Morgan Chest, reputed to have been lost for centuries when the pirate crew's mutiny went awry.

Golden treasure hidden away waiting to be uncovered sung its siren song.

When he approached the crew on deck, the woman - her finger pointed at one of his team member's chest- turned her attention to him. Her eyes darkened upon the sight. "You," she said with a low hiss.

He greatly wished at that moment that like the gold-laden chest, she too could have become lost. 

"May I help you?" He asked. His indifference to her plight was tinged with condescension. His brow furrowed as he put his hands on his hips.

"This is how you treat a colleague!? I worked my butt off to get the rights for this location!" She cried and moved towards him, and though he towered above her, she wielded the finger like a sword.

Gajeel watched the index finger wag at him, almost making him go cross-eyed. He then looked at her reddened face. "Levy, is it?" He started.

Her cerulean locks shook with her anger. "Do not 'Levy' me. I mean it."

He smirked. "I was here first."

Levy all but threw herself at him. "Of course you are! You stole my papers!"

A short sound came from his mouth as he corrected, "I commandeered them."

Levy looked as though she were about to explode. She balled her fists and cocked back ready to throw one when someone came up and redirected her.

Laxus held her away from his team leader as Gajeel called to drop anchor. He let her go to roughly pull herself away from him and righting her t-shirt in the process. A dirty look was all she could muster.

There was nothing she could do about the deranged crew leader and the theft of her hard-earned property. It was by all rights her claim, whatever should they dig up. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself for the sake of their one goal.

"Alright, listen up ladies!" Gajeel called. He pulled his polarized sunglasses down to his face. "A-Team down to ground and scout, B-Team unload the ee-quip. Slow an' steady."

"What about her, sir?" Laxus asked. He gestured to the only woman on site.

Gajeel turned. He didn't want to have to deal with her griping about what he did or did not do. He shrugged. "She stays on the ship."

"I most certainly will not!" Levy shouted angrily.

"Fine," he snapped. He struggled not to roll his eyes. She was a definite pain in his ass and it wasn't even noon. "You can come. But no complaining. Stay on my six. I'm not gonna search for your body if you turn up missing."

Levy was already on the rope ladder on the way down to the small boat below as he spoke.

She, however, rolled hers.

"Gee, thanks. I'll keep that in mind," she said aloud, and then added quietly, "You butthole…"

Once they were on the shore, both teams worked to bring the equipment to solid ground. While they hauled the last of it, Gajeel let the gentle waves lap at his boots as he surveyed the length of the beach.

Most of it sand as far as the eye could see in either direction. Not more than forty yards inland the sand gave way to grass and trees. Further in was a mixed mass of rock and greenery of which the top could not be seen.

He slowly started up the sand towards a fallen tree trunk.

"Where are you going?" Levy asked. When he didn't answer, she pursed her lips and trudged after him, incoherently muttering along the way.

When she caught up with him, he was standing with one foot up on the log looking down at the map of the island in his hands.

"It's supposed to be here," he said to himself. His finger swirled over an area on the unfolded paper.

Levy peered over his arms to see where he was pointing. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"Dunno."

"Well, what do you think we should do first? I mean," she paused mid-sentence to swat at a flying insect crossing in front of her face. "Taking account for everyone on the payroll who follows us there."

Gajeel bit his cheek and then turned his head away from her to spit. "Dunno yet."

"I mean for tonight. For dinner and sleeping arrangements. It's not going to happen over-"

Cutting her off with a huff, Gajeel turned his head to her, the map crinkling in his fists. He seethed, "I don't know, dammit! And I'm not gonna know if you keep runnin' your piehole. I've never been here before, ya know."

Levy scowled at him and at the tone he used with her. She blew out a breath. "Neither have I but I did research before my approved documentation was stolen."

That piqued Gajeel's interest. He calmly looked at her.

"What kind of research?"

Levy opened her mouth to speak but promptly shut it. She gave him a sarcastic look -a wag of her eyebrows and a head tilt- and crossed her arms over her chest. She wasn't going to oblige if her questions would be waved off and ignored.

He shook his head, his eyes narrowed. "Naw, don't give me that bullshit. Since we have to work together, it's in your best interest to tell me everything you know. To help the rest of the crew. For a successful excavation."

She waved a hand out in front of her face and looked at him in her peripheral to see what he would do while she kept silent on her secret knowledge.

He didn't wait long. He breathed a rough sigh and let slip a quiet curse before going back to the map.

And she wouldn't tell him either. If he was going to be an asshole on all fronts, then some secrets were worth keeping to herself. And right now she was the only one she could trust. 

The sun disappeared beyond the horizon when the crew finished settling the main camp. Small tents were pegged in the stretch of green vegetation between the beach and the rest of the jungle-like terrain. The night air cooled the island considerably. It was something which Levy had forgotten to take into account when she bounded off in search for Gajeel's ship.

She sat shivering on the same log from earlier in the day in front of the lively fire. Focusing on the orange flames, she jumped when something soft dropped onto her head.

"Put it on before you freeze." Gajeel sat down unceremoniously beside her.

She uttered her thanks and pulled it over shoulders. Warmth quickly seeped into her bones. A deep breath drew in a fresh manly scent, which told her he had recently worn it.

A coffee mug in his hand, he sipped at it and cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on the burning wood. The two of them sat in silence for some time, listening to the camp crackle with the crew's intermittent conversations and the nightly music of the island's various insects and other wildlife.

Levy looked over at the expedition's captain. Her fellow relic hunter seemed to be the type to hate waiting on others but also refused to ask for help or directions. As much as she hated the idea of him taking her claims for himself, he had a point in that they were now in it together whether it was desired or not.

They had to work as a cohesive team.

"You wouldn't like it even if I told you." Her voice cracked when she finally spoke.

His immediate response to her statement told her he had indeed been waiting on her said research.

"That so. And what would that be?"

"It's said there's a curse on the gold, any who open the chest or touch its contents are doomed for eternal misery in Davy Jones' Locker."

Gajeel coughed down the hot liquid. He snorted back a laugh and caught her gaze, her eyes alight from the glowing fire. He asked simply, "And you believe that shit? Are you an archaeologist or a superstitious historian?"

The woman was slightly taken aback. "Do you really think I'd be telling a made-up story? There's proof in the texts I found in Port Royal."

His hard stare bore a hole into her skull. Ha ha. She was pulling his leg. She had to be. When she stared back just as hard, he knew she was serious. Turning back to the fire, he gave a smile and said, "There's no such thing as curses."

A cold wind brushed through the camp. It stirred the fire and blew the hair from both of their faces.

"The ocean wind from the beach," he said, a matter of fact. He sat back and stretched out his legs.

Levy pursed her lips and stood up. She raised her chin but squinted down at him. There was no way the impossible man would believe it without physical evidence, and there was no way of obtaining it.

He stared back with a smug expression and put his hands behind his head.

"I know what I read, Mr. Redfox, captain," she said, holding her arms tightly over her chest against the cold air. "I don't need or want your condescending-"

In her rush to leave, the toe of her boot caught part of the log that had rotted off. Before she could throw her arms out to catch herself, she stumbled forward in the direction of her broad-shouldered rival.

The coffee mug spilled its contents on the ground beside Gajeel as Levy's weight dropped straight down into his lap.

Standing one moment, the next she was gazing up at the surprise plastered on him. She was well aware of his arms tightly folded over her body.

He gaped wide-eyed. "You ok?" He asked.

"Y-yea," she murmured, still shocked at the sudden change. Her nose briefly grazed his cheek and she could smell the dried sweat on his skin.

And for some reason, it smelled good.

A blush crept into her cheeks. She scrambled to her feet, left as quickly as the dark would let her and hoped he wouldn't bring it up in the morning.

***

Gajeel observed with a heightened excitement as the last bit of debris was removed from the roped-off digging area. Three full days of digging away as much dirt as possible in the humid air had taken most of the remaining patience he had left.

The deep pit revealed what appeared to be broken bits of old pitch-covered wood. Pieces of frayed rope and other non-degradable material surrounded an old, half-buried chest. 

"Break out the cooler," Laxus called out. He stood above on the topsoil. He tossed their leader a glass container which sloshed with golden-brown liquid.

Gajeel untwisted the cap. "A round of Captain Morgan!" He exclaimed, then brought the bottle to his mouth for the first sip. He passed it to the closest man.

As he and the others celebrated their discovery, Levy felt an uneasiness. She had suspected some kind of supernatural boobytrap, but none came to slow down their progress. The lack thereof made her become overly cautious.

"Come on," Gajeel said to her without looking her way. No trace of their brief conversation the few nights before -and what had accidentally occurred between them- appeared to be of any concern to him.

Levy watched from her perch above them on the ground untouched by the digging equipment. Glancing around at the surrounding environment, she couldn't shake the odd feeling. She wanted to warn him again, but would her heed only fall on deaf ears?

"Gajeel, wait," she called anyways.

Standing by the chest and posing for pictures with other crew members, he seemed not to notice her. Only when the pit cleared away did he remember she had called to him.

He put one large hand on her shoulder and said, "We found it."

"Yes, I can see. Please don't touch it yet."

He huffed. "Levy, I'm telling you, there's nothing going to happen."

Despite his rebuke of the truth and reliability of her "research", he took his hand from her, but kept his other hand on his hip. With her experience in professionally recovering lost artifacts for science and the occasional museum, he let her take point to inspect it.

Levy approached the chest, assuming control of the situation. Bending at the waist, she put her hands on her knees.

Behind her came a clearing of a throat. Gajeel shifted his weight. He tried to not notice her short blue jean shorts rising up the underside of her thigh. His gaze averted, but only for a second. An inaudible grunt of slight arousal settled in his chest.

Oblivious, her eyes roamed over the old wooden box. Rusty iron strips were nailed into the decaying wood at the corners. Bugs crawled over parts around the bottom. It looked like anything someone could dig up if one went deep enough. The closer she got to it, the more it revealed of itself.

Walking around it and without physical contact with it, she closely inspected the front side. The standard keyhole lock from the era was missing. Red crumbly bits of rust settled on the iron rest where it would have been. A faint inscription was etched on the domed lid above the iron edging. A black substance stained its surface.

She frowned. Her stomach threatened to empty itself. The ancient documentation in Port Royal had to be accurate.

"What is it?" Gajeel asked.

Pointing, Levy read aloud the message carved into the rotten mahogany, "'Gold, silver, all treasures this chest has carried now lives to tell of souls long dead and tarried'."

Gajeel's brows furrowed. "The fuck," he grumbled. He quickly moved to her side, his eyes on their prize. "What does that even mean?"

He reached out a hand to flip the lid away to peer inside. Levy gasped and caught his arm, pulling it towards her.

"No! Don't do that!"

"Levy!" He roared in frustration.

One of the crew members hopped down into the pit. "If you two aren't gonna, let me, for fuck's sake..."

He quickly threw the lid back.

Levy, still clinging to Gajeel's arm, shut her eyes. Gajeel glanced down at her as she squeezed his limb tighter. Her forehead brushed against his bicep.

The crew member fell silent. No one spoke. The seconds that ticked by seemed more like minutes. Gajeel shifted his weight once again in his impatience.

"Well?"

The crewman's shoulders fell. His tone was one of shock. "It's empty."

Levy's eyes shot open. She spoke at the same moment as Gajeel.

"It is?"

"Come again?"

He shook off Levy's hold and was beside the brave crew member in one stride, dead set on seeing for himself. It had to be a joke. They spent way too much time and effort to come up short.

There was nothing inside. Not even dirt or sand.

Levy had hoped that despite the warning that there would lie some kind of treasure. It didn't have to be gold or other precious jewels or the like. She would have been ecstatic with an old half-filled journal. Or a comb. Or even a spoon.

She looked at Gajeel, defeated. "Now what?"

A dull, dumping sound filled the pit, like a pile of dirt dumped onto concrete. It gradually became louder.

A surprised cry spouted from the only person known to have touched what was supposed to have been a bountiful riches.

Gajeel looked in disgust at the crewman's arm as it turned a pale green with a shattered cracking pattern snaking across the skin right before his waking eyes.

He put his arm in front of Levy and backed them both to the excavation pit's edge. "Lax, are you seeing this?" His voice seemed both distant and as if he were shouting at the same time.

Laxus replied. "Yea…"

The others were watching the scene unfold, not knowing what was going on or what to do; obviously, no one had trained for something such as this.

The first mate hesitantly pulled the pistol from his holster and brought it up. He didn't want to point it at his friends, but what was happening below to one of them was not normal by any standards. "And I don't like it."

The man's skin went from the pale green to gray, the cracks webbing out began to widen, until one of his wrists severed from the rest of the lifeless limb. The man who had opened the chest was decaying at an unbelievably fast rate.

Levy abruptly turned upon the realization. She made a grab for the hanging rope ladder. Her breaths came shallow and hurried, her only thoughts were of getting out unscathed.

The crewman's face began to change colors. He twitched and jerked while the deterioration accelerated. One of his kneecaps slid diagonally down to the side, causing his leg to turn unnaturally when he attempted to take a step. When he moved his head, the gray skin cracking like dried mud broke loose. The mandible beneath unhinged itself from the skull, permanently propping open the man's mouth.

"Climb faster," Gajeel murmured.

The undead stepped out in his direction.

"Faster, Levy," he repeated with more force.

His colleague was halfway up the ladder. He shoved his hand upwards and cupped one of her ass cheeks, pushing her the rest of the way so he could begin his ascent to get the hell out.

Once she was at the top, a gunshot fired once and echoed into the rest of the island. Levy turned to see Gajeel hurrying up the ladder and the undead shipmate now without an arm on his way towards them.

Laxus fired another shot that missed.

"Has anyone else touched the chest?!" Levy shouted. Goosebumps traveled down her arms and legs. She hoped and prayed it was just the one.

If others had as she suspected, no one confessed. A commotion of mixed shouts and warnings came from the campsite. A few crew members cleared out of the way before the same thing that had just occurred in the pit began to eat away at two more.

Morgan's curse was spreading.

Gajeel scrambled to his feet once he reached solid ground. He yanked the ladder out in case the undead could come up after him. The rotted body loosed a sound that would have been a snarl and clawed at the dirt wall.

"So much for buried treasure, shoulda known," Gajeel roughly spat. In two quick strides, he was right next to Levy. 

She gave him a disapproving look. "I tried to tell you."

"Yea, yea." He took her hand and swiftly guided them away from the excavation pit.

The main camp was in disarray. The undead was numerous, turning the others who had ignorantly treated the dig site as every other they previously created.

"We gotta get to the ship before they do."

A half snarl growl from the freshly dead warned Gajeel of its proximity in time for him to snatch up one of the cooking pans by the fire and connect it with the side of its ugly, deformed face. The remnants of their earlier breakfast unstuck itself to snag on the zombie's protruding nasal bone.

It fell to the ground, but of course, nothing could kill an undead in this case, given that it was unleashed via a curse.

He picked up another pan and shoved it into Levy's hand. "It won't kill them, but it'll keep you alive," he stated. He gave her a hard, meaningful gaze, shifting to both of her eyes. "Stay on my ass, Lev."

At her nod, he looked both ways for incoming bogeys and then rushed forward in the direction of the beach.

Gunshots echoed, screams and shouts of men running for their lives met their ears. They lept for the grassy trail which led straight for the ocean. Skinny tree trunks and other tall plants flashed by in a blur as they hightailed it, as fast as the overgrown vegetation would allow.

Gajeel used his pan like a sword and wacked two unsuspecting undeads clear off their broken feet. Bits of dust plumed out in small clouds from the contact made with his makeshift but effective weapon.

When they reached the beach's hot sand, he looked over his shoulder. The fierce little woman abruptly stopped and swung her frying pan like a baseball bat at the zombie following close behind her.

She gave a short grunt with the effort. The bottom of the weapon smacked the unnatural creature, its head popped off and flew back the way they came. Dust clouded the air in her wake. The undead body crumpled in a heap to the ground.

A clean headshot.

The display of power greatly impressed Gajeel.

Her next step onto the beach was a stumble, but he was there to catch her in one of his arms.

"Careful," he murmured. His gaze lingered on her face as he set her upright.

She saw the look in his eyes. A red-tinged her cheeks. Before he could see it, she grabbed his arm with her free hand and gave a tough tug. Her voice was breathless, "We can't stand around, come on!"

They ran for The Sea Wither still at anchor a distance away in deeper water. The smaller boat they came to shore in sat untouched on the dry sand, the motor flipped upside down inside for storage.

When Levy bounded into it, Gajeel started to shove the boat towards the water. They heard a loud shout for them to wait.

Laxus lead a few others out of the fray. They wielded various objects from camp, frantically booking it over the loose sand. The first mate slowed to a stop and immediately helped Gajeel in pushing the large vessel.

The others threw themselves into the boat, breathing heavily, scared out of their wits. Odd weaponry lay on the boat floor: another frying pan, a shovel, a machete, a long stick, a foldable chair. She gave credit for creativity within the group of people still alive.

"Alright, let's get the hell out of dodge," Gajeel said to Laxus and nodded.

Two other crewmen pulled their leader into the boat while Laxus readied the motor by securing it onto its mount. He yanked the pull cord and it suddenly came to life. 

"What about the equipment? Everyone else still out there?" A man asked. He gripped his crowbar white knuckles.

"It's not worth the risk. Not right now."

With the motorboat gaining speed towards their ticket home, Gajeel looked back to see more decomposing bodies now emerging from the cursed island. He took a breath and turned to Levy. "Whoever's left isn't going to last," he admitted aloud for everyone to hear above the motor's roar.

Biting her lip, Levy had to turn away from the beach. She shook from adrenaline still coursing through her veins. The cold sea air didn't help either. She felt the warmth radiating from Gajeel when he sat next to her. What comfort she could feel came from him.

The boat slowed when they arrived at the ship. One by one they wasted no time in boarding the massive ship. The first thing he did after making sure what remained of his crew were safely aboard, Gajeel entered the bridge and created a distress call on the appropriate channels.

Levy sat in one of the main chairs and listened as he successfully made contact with the mainland. In her relief knowing there would be a rescue, her gaze shifted from the ships controls to the beach.

"Gajeel, y-you need to s-see this," she stuttered. Fear was again present in her voice.

He put down the radio and glanced up. He did a sharp double-take. "You gotta be kidding me! These fuckers can swim?!"

[sweetsmellosuccess]

The Sátántangó Experience

How exactly does one prepare to watch a 7.5 hour film? A bit like what you might do in preparation for major surgery: Pack a bag of necessities (in this case, water and protein bars), kiss your loved ones goodbye, and try to make peace with your god. Or, maybe less dramatically, treat it as you would a long train journey, one that takes you through some harrowing terrain on half a rutted track before depositing you to your eventual destination.

Of course, this sort of conception of time is entirely relative: If you have to drive somewhere that takes half an hour, it feels unduly long; but if the trip were normally three hours long, and you somehow found a shortcut that would cut the time down to 30 minutes, you would be flying on dulcet wings for that amount of time, and think you were blessed by angels. In other words, spending an entire standard work day watching one film might seem excessive, but it all has to do with your expectations.

In my case, I was at Philadelphia’s newly renovated Lightbox Theater at the University of the Arts to take in Béla Tarr’s magnum opus Sátántangó, all glorious 450 minutes, in a new 4K restoration (it’s currently playing at select theaters across the country). Armed with my snack survival kit, and safe in the knowledge that we would get intermissions at roughly 2.5 hour intervals, I settled in to watch what has been described as a masterpiece in cinephile circles, and currently resides at number 36 in the most recent Sight & Sound critics’ poll.

Tarr’s beyond-bleak film is broken up into 12 segments, each having to do with a failing farmer’s cooperative in Hungary during the last throes of communism in the late ‘80s. Each section has its own feel and perspective  —  some of them are more lighthearted, others are desolate beyond measure  —  but all expertly shot in low-contrast black and white (by Gábor Medvigy), which renders the people and landscape in various tones of drudgery grey.

It originally opened in America as part of the 1994 New York film festival, at a time when Hungary was undergoing a transformation from Communism to shaky democratic capitalism, so it served as a kind of epigraph to the era, a showcase, as it were, as to the imperfections of a political system built on a promise of human egalitarianism that proved to be depressingly difficult to put into practice.

The landscape makes up a lot of Tarr’s vision, the flat, moody farmland upon which the collective has been toiling, and the unceasing rain and wind that constantly pelts the characters as they venture outside for one business or another. As the film opens, the collective  —  made up of three couples; a curious “doctor” (Peter Berling), who spends his time spying on the others, making copious notes in his stacks of file folders, and daily drinking his considerable body weight in Palinka (Hungarian plum brandy); and the cagey Futaki (Miklos Szekely B.), who has to walk with a cane from an unspecified accident, but seems a bit more shrewd than the others  —  is anxiously awaiting their annual wages, which come all at once and is meant to get divvied up amongst the members equally.

Early on, there are various halfcocked plans from individuals to try and steal the small fortune for themselves, reflected in much idle talk about meeting that evening and decamping for parts unknown, but that ultimately come to nothing. However, when word reaches the group that the mysterious Irimiás (Mihály Vig, also the film’s composer) is, in fact, not dead as they had been told, but alive, and returning to the collective he started, the group dynamic is thrown akimbo, with various members fretting for their future, and, one, the owner of the local bar (Zoltán Kamondi), furious at the thought his business will be taken from him. 

Just why they respond like this remains vague. In ensuing segments, we see Irimiás, along with his associate, Petrina (Dr. Putyi Horvath), navigating through a police interview  —  where the local Captain informs them they will be working for him now in ways unspecified  —  though it appears the collective had very actively planned on not having to include their former leader (and his right-hand man) in their financial arrangements. As for the non-collective characters, including the aforementioned barkeep, and various prostitutes sitting idly around, the collective is virtually their only business, such as it is, so they, too, await this potential flood of cash eagerly.

As the segments begin to collect, they also begin to fold upon themselves: Scenes that we see from one vantage point in an earlier segment are revisited later on, from the perspective of a different character, enabling a thrilling moment of realization that the stream of time we’re following has breaks, jumps, and hiccoughs throughout. Never more poignantly than a moment with a young girl peering into a window of the bar  —  one of the only lit buildings in the otherwise dismally dark countryside  —  watching the adults inside drunkenly dancing and cavorting.

About that girl. Easily the most emotional moment of the film involves her, but not first without the audience paying a heavy price, depending on your empathy for other creatures. Before the film screened, during its introduction, we were made aware that there was a scene of animal cruelty involving a cat somewhere in the proceedings. The sympathetic presenter, himself a cat lover, suggested looking away for parts of that segment, though a friend of mine in attendance who had seen it before assured me looking away wasn’t really an option. Fortunately, he also told me that the cat in question wasn’t actually hurt, and was still alive at the time of a 2012 interview with Tarr.

Needless to say, my worry about this poor cat dominated my experience in the early going: Every time I saw a feline in the background of a scene, I worried that it was coming up, such that it was almost a relief when it finally happened. The situation is this: Estike (Erica Bók), the young daughter of one of the local prostitutes, caught up in her world of half-fantasies after being sent out of their apartment by her working mother, holes up in an attic with a grey tabby. At first, she pets and cuddles him, but eventually, she desires to control him, bend the cat to her will. To the cat’s increasing discomfort and fury, she grabs him by the front paws and rolls around with him, all the while muttering how she alone can determine its fate. Looping up the poor fellow in a net bag and hanging it from a post, she goes downstairs to mix a batch of milk with some rat poison powder and force feeds him until he dies (though in actuality merely tranquilized).

Wandering around the farm that night with the stiffened body of the cat tucked under her arm (a prosthetic, the director assures us), Estike runs into the doctor, shuffling outside to refill his giant jug of brandy, shortly after peering through the window of the bar. Eventually, she lies down amongst the deserted crumble of a bomb-blasted church and takes the poison herself.

As gruesome as the segment becomes, its haunting evocations permeate the rest of the film (though not immediately: in a jarring juxtaposition, the very next segment takes us back to the bar, where everyone is still dancing wildly about to a loopy accordion refrain —  only towards the end of this extended scene do we see the face of the soon-to-be-dead Estike peering inside). Eventually, Irimiás does indeed return, in time to give a moving eulogy for Estike, while at the same time transitioning the group towards his next vision, a new farm some distance away where he assures them they can finally live freely and thrive. All he needs to achieve this goal for them is the money they just received from their previous year’s efforts.

With nowhere else to go, and no other plan on the horizon, the members of the collective dutifully deposit their wages on the table in front of their leader. He sends them out to pack their things so that they may meet with him in a couple of days at the new farm he’s selected.

Gathering their miserable belongings, the group reassemble and trudge down the muddy road on foot, as the rain pelts down on them without ceasing. Distressingly, the members don’t have any proper rain coats  —  in an earlier soliloquy in the bar, Kráner (János Derszi) laments that his leather coat is so old and stiff he has to bend it in order to sit down  —  so they wear their woolen winter coats, which do little to keep them from getting soaked in the heavy fall rains.

As they make their way to this new destination, it’s clear that Irimiás is up to something. Most obviously, he could make off with their wages and move on, but it turns out his scheme is less direct than just taking their hard-earned money for himself.

Towards the second half, Tarr’s penchant for long, elegantly composed shots gives gradually away to more adventurous camerawork, including a single steadicam shot in the woods that’s like something out of a Sam Raimi film. There are extensive elliptical shots with the camera spinning slowly on an axis, this particular effect never more effective than when after the group arrives at their new farm, yet another dilapidated series of box-like concrete buildings. Once they dump their belongings and lie on the floor of the unheated, broken-windowed main house, trying to sleep, our narrator makes one of his occasional VO appearances to describe in intimate detail the dreams each character is having.

It’s a shot that could have served as an excellent final salvo, one would imagine. Indeed, by the last hour of this opus, time and again, Tarr arrives at what might be considered a conclusive moment  —  in this, the confusion is aided by his particular style: It turns out many films end on a superbly composed, static long shot  —  only to keep the narrative flowing, circling back, eventually to the original farm, where the doctor, having just returned from a stint in a hospital, begins to narrate, again, the original opening lines. Such is the perfection in this device (the segment is titled “The Circle Closes”) that once you finally arrive there, it’s clear there could be no other ending that would have sufficed.

When finally the film ended, it was later in the evening. I met up with my compatriots also in attendance, and the three of us ventured back out into the city, heading to a bar where we could nurse a beer and attempt to articulate the tangled mass of feelings and impressions of the previous nine hours. In one of the very few bars in the city that still allows smoking, appropriately enough, we debated about the film in an atmosphere swirling with the poisonous fumes of an earlier era. It seemed hopeless, but still necessary, somehow; like bidding farewell to someone already in a coma.