#we were SO dead this morning and I was structuring my entire day to Catch Up On Extra Stuff

[the-trans-dragon]

Ghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh if my job decides to do a secret Special Item Release, they should at LEAST tell the staff x.x I would have brought more food and drinks, and gotten better rest last night, if I’d known

Also they should give us holiday pay for that nonsense omg.

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Day 11: Derecho ⛈️

----------

Derecho (n.)

a widespread and severe windstorm that moves rapidly along a fairly straight path and is associated with bands of rapidly moving thunderstorms

----------

Today’s word is proof that I did not go over the prompt list with as finetooth of a comb as I should have—We really didn’t need “rolling wind storms” and “trees dead-from-storms” back-to-back. 😅

Oh well! Not much to be done about it now. 🤷‍♀️

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about my thoughts/process for keeping this one as different as I could from yesterday's. ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

----------

Just to reiterate: I honestly cannot believe that when I was making final adjustments to the Obscutober prompt list that I both didn't notice this little string of nouns we seem to be stuck in (aside from Day 9 serving as a break) and also that "Rampike" and "Derecho," both storm-related words that made it on the list, ended up back-to-back. 🤦‍♀️

And it's not the fault of total randomization, either; I did randomize the words at first, but then deliberately moved some around for reasons much like this...I just somehow missed these two in the process. 😅

Then I still didn't notice until I looked at the list to get started on today's mandala. 🙄

So, naturally, I went into working on this mandala a little worried that I'd have trouble making it different enough from yesterday's. This was not helped by the fact that I came home absolutely wiped after being out most of the day yesterday, so I was in no position to even attempt getting started before going to bed, and then I also slept in late this morning, which set back my whole schedule for the day.

And now you know why today's is going up a little later than I'd really like, too. 😅 Sometimes I just can't catch a break from myself!

"The Ongoing Saga of Mystic's Poor Pacing" aside, I did what I could to separate today and yesterday without totally abandoning what I felt really was the best fit for the word. Primarily, I opted to use black lines instead of white. Though had I realized these two words were next to each other before I made yesterday's, I think letting Derecho have the white lines and making Rampike have black would've been the better way to go. Dead trees would've made a black silhouette work better, white lines make more sense for clouds, etc.

Still, I did what I could and tried to use the black lines to my advantage to focus on lighter, "this is the blue the sky uses to warn you that rain is very much on the way," blues and lighter grays, like maybe if yesterday's colors were a storm at night, this one is a storm during the day when there's more light.

But, of course, since the definition specifically mentions thunderstorms, I felt like I still had to get some little lightning bolts in there. I kept them intentionally small since "Derecho" is more about the wind that precedes the storms, but these did get more proper "lightning shape lines" versus yesterday's lightning mostly being a strong suggestion based on color placement.

However, swirls for "wind" were, in my opinion, completely non-negotiable. But I did try my best to structure them differently and give them a tad more complexity than yesterday's. If we were looking at just the line work, I'm not fully convinced I pushed them far enough, but I think the coloring helps sell the differences a lot more. Then, I had briefly considered adding some kind of rain representation to yesterday's art—whether in the mandala lines or in the background coloring. You can probably guess that I am now super glad I didn't, because that gave me one more tool up my sleeve to help make today's mandala noticeably different! I'm not entirely sold on the exact way I ended up doing the raindrops, but I didn't really have any better ideas so once I was able to get them shaped in a way I was happy with, I opted to just roll with this and try not to otherwise worry about it too much. I think the main thing that bothers me is the raindrops look "too calm" and not really like they're coming from a storm. Again though: I didn't really have any better ideas. I tried a couple of things before settling on what you see and none of it was jiving with me. 🤷‍♀️

For as worried as I went in though, and for what quibbles I still have, I like it a lot more than I thought I would! So I'll consider that a success and cut my losses for today. 👍

...I feel like this description should be longer, but I think you all want to read a play-by-play of drawing a lot of swirly shapes several times about as much as I feel like writing one. Which is to say: Not very much at all!

So I'll just leave it here, and hopefully I can get this baby cross-posted in record time because I haven't had dinner yet and won't want to get started on that until cross-posting is either done-done or very close to it. 🤪 See you Sparklers tomorrow! 🤗

----------

See the Prompt List

Artwork  © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

----------

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Against an Endless Tide

Draco squared his shoulders, straightening his robes as he looked in the mirror. He looked good, his hair was clean and tidy; it just brushed his chin now, and he'd left it down. His face was freshly shaven, nails trimmed, a bit of concealer under the eyes to hide the exhaustion from being a single dad chasing around a two year-old.

"We can do this," he whispered to himself, before heading into Scorpius' bedroom where Harry was still trying to wrestle him into his clothes for the day.

He stood in the doorway, watching Harry laugh at Scorpius' antics as he chased him around with a tiny pair of trousers. "Scorp," he said, grabbing at him and eliciting a delighted little baby giggle when he didn't manage to fully capture him, "We've got to get your trousers on! You can't go to Memere and Grandfather half dressed."

"Perish the thought," Draco said, startling them both.

Scropius came running over, that sweet toddling run that made Draco's entire bone structure turn to goop. "Dada, dada, dada, dada!" he chanted! "Less run!"

"I can’t run right now, my darling," he said, scooping his squirming little body up and squatting as he took his trousers from Harry so he could wrangle him into them.

"Sorry," Harry said apologetically, "We were just having too much fun."

Draco looked up at the other man, it was still fairly new, this thing between them. They'd dated for four months before he'd even let Harry meet Scorpius, and it had only been a couple of weeks since he'd started letting Harry spend the night a few times a week. Harry was fantastic but he hadn't wanted Scorpius to get attached unless he felt like this might work. "Don't be sorry," he said with a little smile. "A month ago, I would have been getting both of us ready at the same time."

He released Scorpius and let him run over to the corner of the room where his toys were.

"Alright?" Harry asked softly, brushing a thumb over Draco's cheek.

"Fine," he said. Then he corrected himself, "Well, not really." They'd been working on this, telling the truth about their emotions, being honest about what they were thinking and feeling. "I honestly hate seeing them. But Scorp adores them and they adore him, so I can put it aside for the morning."

(Read more below the cut)

Harry hummed sympathetically, "Want me to come with you?" he asked.

He shook his head, "I haven't told them about you yet."

"Oh."

"Not because I'm ashamed of you," he hastened to add, looking away from Scorpius working on building a tower with his blocks (a very short tower, but a tower nonetheless) and over at Harry. "The expectations have just always been a lot, and I-"

"It's okay," Harry said earnestly, glancing over at him with warm, understanding eyes. "You don't have to justify it. We said we were taking this slow. There's no rush to tell them." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Draco's cheek, "Although, I have told my parents," he said lightly.

He laughed and leaned his shoulder against Harry's as they watched Scorpius play.

"I actually did," he confessed softly, in the intensely honest way he had when he was talking about something difficult, Draco had a hard time looking straight at him in moments like this. "I sat down on a blanket in front of their grave and chatted for a while. It's different though," he added softly. "They've got the benefit of a better perspective than your parents do, seeing as they're dead and all."

Draco shook his head, "Bit dark," he commented lightly, "even for you."

He shrugged, "Death isn't all that dark. Not when you get to the other side anyway."

"Someday," Draco said, bumping Harry's shoulder with his, "I am going to make you tell me all about your particular brand of madness surrounding death."

"I'll let you," Harry replied, catching his hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to his palm.

And the easy way that Harry showed affection snagged and tugged at something behind his breastbone, leaving him a little breathless and dizzy.

"You should go," Harry said softly, "or you're going to be late. And while I certainly wouldn't mind spending the morning with my two favorite humans, I'm sure your parents would."

His heart rattled around in his chest, and surely it mustn't be normal for a heart to feel like it was a bludger ramming against its case. He sighed, "We should get going, you're right."

"Would you two like to go to dinner tonight?" he asked. "There's a great muggle diner a few blocks from my flat, the pancakes are to die for."

"Pa-cakes?" Scorpius asked, attention successfully taken from the blocks as he walked straight through them and over to Harry, grasping his trousers in his chubby little fists. "Pa-cakes?" he repeated eagerly.

"Oops," Harry said, scooping Scorpius up. "Maybe later, if it's okay with dada."

"Dada, pa-cakes?" he asked, turning his pleading, grey eyes on Draco, bottom lip protruding slightly. "Pease, dada? pa-cakes, boo-bebes?"

"Pancakes and blueberries?!" Draco said in mock outrage, "Pancakes and blueberries?!" he tickled Scorpius' tummy and he burst into peals of giggles. "Do you think I love you enough to give you pancakes and blueberries?" he asked, letting the sound of his child's laughter wash back some of his own anxiety.

"Yah!" Scorpius cheered.

"Well," he said as he scooped Scorpius out of Harry's arms and balanced him on a hip, "I suppose you're right. I do love you enough to give you pancakes and blueberries for dinner. You're on, Potter."

He glanced over to see Harry watching him with the softest expression and something in Draco melted completely, "What is that face?" he asked.

"I think I love you," Harry said, like it wasn't something absolutely fucking earth shattering.

"Lub you!" Scorpius repeated to Harry, "Lub you!"

"Love you, buddy," Harry replied with a little smile, tousling his hair.

Draco stared at him, "Do you really think now was the right time to say this?" he asked incredulously.

"It wasn't planned," Harry said. "You asked, though, and I just," he shrugged, "I've never felt like this. You make me feel like every inch of me is sunshine."

Draco spluttered at him, "You can't just say things like that!" he protested.

"Yeah!" Scorpius agreed. "No say things!" he added, shaking a finger at Harry.

Laughing, Harry asked, "Why not?"

"Because I'm supposed to be going to my parents and I have a two year old in my arms and all I want to do is drag you to," he paused and covered Scorpius' ears, "my bed," he whispered, before uncovering his ears again, "And make you keep saying lovely, beautiful words to me."

"Lob wors," Scorpius added.

"Just saying lovely, beautiful words?" Harry teased, green eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Among other things," Draco sniffed.

Harry leaned in and pecked a kiss on Draco's cheek, resting his hand on Scoprius' back as he did. And for a heart-stopping moment, it felt just like the family that Draco had always dreamed of having. It was exhilarating.

It was terrifying.

"Go," Harry's said softly. "It'll keep."

He sighed. "Ready to see Memere and Grandfather?"

"Mehmeh! Granfavah!" he exclaimed, bouncing in Draco's arms.

"See you later," Draco said, peaking around Scorpius at Harry.

"See you," Harry replied.

"Ug! Ug!" Scorpius cried, whining as he reached for Harry.

"Yes, hug," Draco conceded, handing him over and letting him wrap his arms around Harry's neck.

Harry squeezed him tight, "Thanks, buddy. See you later, yeah?"

"See you!" he said, reaching for Draco again.

With one last backward glance, Draco stepped over to the fireplace and took a breath, putting on his mental armor before dropping a handful of floo powder in the fireplace and stepping through.

--------------------

To be continued...

Part 2

[1engele]

daybreak | sal fisher x fem!reader - 1. petrichor

Next

You move to a small, rural town, in the middle of nowhere, accompanying your mother. Nockfell, she says. A boy named Larry Johnson introduces you to his friend, Sal Fisher, occasionally dubbed "Sally Face." Your feelings cloud your judgement and you get yourself caught up in what seems will change you and Sal Fisher's life, forever.

[warnings: cursing, smoking]

"the kind of blue that makes you ache."

—

Sticky wood against your skin, the hard pressure of the surface beneath your face. The unrhythmic pulsing of the migraine that pressed at the sides of your skull—like phantom palms, relentlessly squeezing your brain.

You slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before squinting as you adjusted to the dimness of the room. The noon sun filtered through the windows and cast its golden warmth over every surface. Its comfort found its way over your face, and you breathed in slowly.

You could see the dust particles floating through the air. The sunshine opened out its rays over the beige carpet. You crawled from the dinner table, laid on the soft floor, and allowed yourself to bathe in the welcoming heat.

Your fingers absentmindedly began to play with the looped fibers beneath you as you stared up at the dull ceiling and thought. Today you and your mother had awoken at an unearthly hour of the morning to start your travels to a town called Nockfell.

You'd arrived hours later. At the moment, your mother, who was named Michelle, was out at her new job—a supervisor position at a bank, or something. She'd also worked at a bank in your old town but was promoted to another location and that was the reason for the move.

You had the apartment to yourself. It wasn't much better than your last flat—equally as unsettling as the last.

Your body jerked and you murmured a frustrated curse as the resoundingly impressive knocking of your door frightened you into an upright position. You scrambled onto your feet, the heated carpet warming your soles.

After you'd approached the door, you turned the doorknob and pulled it open as far as the safety chain would allow. You then settled your weight on your right foot and leaned toward the opening. The cool, dead air of the hallway breezed your face.

A boy, with long brown hair and dark eyes. Seemed to be around your age, and taller than you. He was tanned. You assumed it was genetic, as your mother informed you the weather in Nockfell was almost always droll and depressing.

You had to incline your chin upward an inch to meet the brunette's eyes.

A person stood behind him, with eye-catching blue hair that wisped past their ears and brushed their shoulders. Matching eyes, a bit lighter than their cerulean hair. The only thing about this person that seemed a bit jarring was the mask they wore. They were smaller than the boy beside him, and you were able to look them right in the eyes.

You weren't any type to judge off of appearances, so you didn't spend much time staring.

"Hello," you press a shoulder against the door, awkwardly fidgeting. "I'm- do you.."

Before you can painfully struggle for something to say, the tallest boy resolves your conflict. "Hi," he grins easily. "I'm Larry, and this is Sal. He and I had the idea to swing by and welcome you to Addison's.."

He trails off, noticing your disheveled state and tired eyes. You were conscious enough to recognize his hesitation and quickly rubbed the sleep from your eyes. "Oh. Oh. Sorry- I know I look so bad right now.." You quickly passed a hand through your hair and licked your lips. "I was laying on the floor when you knocked."

Why did you say that? You've made yourself out to be a real weirdo, haven't you, Y/N?

"Larry", glances over at his friend "Sal" amusedly, almost like he knew something you didn't. His eyes then revert to you. He opens his mouth to speak, but his blue-haired friend beats him to it.

"You're going to Nockfell, right? I'd say you're 16, like us.."

Yeah, okay. Any suspicions a person could have about Sal's gender upon just seeing him—you didn't, his build was masculine enough and you'd already watched his Adam's apple bob, and Larry had referred to him with male pronouns prior—would probably cease upon hearing him speak.

After realizing you should speak, and not silently trail your eyes down his body, you replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll start the same day as everybody else. Shouldn't that be tomorrow, or-"

"After that," Sal tentatively cut you off, and you watched him swallow. It was sweet, his resignation. Like he was constantly worried about offending. "The day after that."

You felt as though you were missing something.

"Oh!" You exclaimed, embarrassment washing over your features. You quickly tell them your name, regretting not having said it earlier.

Beneath the tank top, you were wearing, your bra strap slipped further down your shoulder. You felt it slide. Oops, you thought, comprehending the fact that it had been misplaced the entire conversation.

Quickly, you pushed it back up and reached for the doorknob. "Okay, um, see you guys then!" And then basically slammed the door in their faces.

You slapped a palm over your mouth. "Oh my god," you breathed, abashed at yourself. "That was horrible."

They'll probably make fun of how awkward you are at school, you thought. "I wouldn't blame them," you told yourself.

At the time, you didn't realize the importance of that meeting. But, then and again, if it hadn't happened that day it would definitely have later.

The next day you and your mother settled further into the apartment. Your mother was supposed to start work the following day so that meant she had time to properly furnish your apartment. The moving vehicle had arrived a day after you'd arrived in Nockfell, which was "highly inconvenient and unconventional", to quote your mother directly.

Uninterested in watching your mother painstakingly put flower arrangements together, you took it upon yourself to explore the property and familiarize yourself with Addison's Apartments. There wasn't really much of anything besides trees and grass and the view of buildings in the distance. Oh, and the treehouse. Curiosity got the best of you and you made your way towards it.

It had rained in the night. You could smell the scent of water on dry earth and feel it against your hands and face. You tasted mist on your tongue and your sneakers squeaked on the wettish grass. You could practically feel the dampened mud staining the white soles.

You almost slipped climbing up the ladder and into the treehouse. You were glad you weren't being watched because the face of terror you'd just made was really embarrassing.

The structure was actually pretty impressive. If you could live in it, you would. A few posters here and there and a lot of storage for nicknacks and food. A family photo and a stool. A toolbox, some other shit- it was almost as if people hung out in this extremely well-kept treehouse a lot.

Fuck. You didn't expect the damn thing to be lived in. You'd expected the thing to be made in the 70s and extremely old and abandoned. You'd practically just broke into someone's property! You'd burglarized this treehouse!

"I have to get out of here," you murmur, frantically. "Before we get evicted."

That actually wouldn't be too bad, you replied to yourself. Pissing Michelle off would be really funny.

Letting out a breath, you move from the window and pivot around to climb back down the ladder and run like hell. Instead, your ears absorb the sound of creaking and boyish laughter. You have no time to react before the blue-haired boy you'd met the following day is climbing into the treehouse and meeting your eyes.

His laughter ceases and you scramble to explain yourself as his brown-haired friend follows him into the treehouse.

"I am so sorry," you rush. "I thought this thing was abandoned. I had no clue it was yours. I'm really, really sorry. Seriously. I, um- I'll leave, and I swear I've-"

Larry jerks like he was trying to hold back laughter and promptly fails. He sounds like he's going to bust a gut and you feel your face growing hot. Through your heavy embarrassment, you're concerned he's going to fall out of the treehouse from where he sat on the edge of the entrance.

His friend sends his elbow in Larry's ribs. Larry groans in pain.

“I think what Larry was trying to say there was that it's perfectly fine," Sal looks away from Larry and his steady blue eyes meet with yours. "Really. Not a big deal. Right, Larry?"

Larry wheezes promptly.

"See?"

You can't help but giggle. You quiet yourself as quickly as it starts, and hoped he hadn't heard. When you look away from Sal, you miss his softening eyes.

Larry grins at you. "Laughing at my suffering, it seems. I see how it is." He grunts in his effort to get himself up and on his feet. He's on one knee when he speaks again, an elbow resting on his knee. "What the hell is in that lanky ass arm, Sal? Steel?"

"Something like that," Sal replies, the sound of a smile on his tongue. You meet his eyes again. "So," he says your name, slowly. You breathe in but it hitches. "Why'd you move to Nockfell?"

"No reason that's interesting," you state. "My mom was relocated for work." You step back toward your back presses against the wooden wall and relax your shoulders. "And why did you?"

Sal blinked from behind his prosthetic. He doesn't answer your question but instead returns it with his own. "How'd you know I moved?"

"You don't sound like you're from here," You answered. "Where are you from?"

"Jersey." He returned, gazing at you curiously.

"You guys are like old people," Larry has finally got to his feet, brushing off the black denim on his knees with his palms. He rises to his full height and momentarily startles you. Despite his statement, he asks you his own question. "You miss your friends back home?"

You smiled despite everything. "Oh. Haha, no. I didn't really have a best friend or anything like that. I sort of floated. Never really met anybody."

He pauses. "Well, you live in our complex now." Larry runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you. "If you want, we can both be your friends."

Your eyes widen, and a wholesome feeling flutters in your chest. "Oh!" You glance over to Sal. "I- sure! If you'll have me."

Larry flashes his well-kept teeth. "Good! We need some more females within the gang, don't we, Sal?"

Sal looks as though he cringed. "Please don't call them females. And, uh- sure, I guess."

After that, it isn't a few minutes until you all sit down. You pull your legs criss-cross applesauce and plant your elbows in your knees, resting your chin on your hands.

"So," Larry says your name. "Ever smoke before?"

Your eyebrows raise.

"Sweet Jesus," Sal mutters. "Larry, you can't ask her that." Despite himself, he reaches for the cigarettes Larry's just pulled from his pocket.

"I only asked a question. You're a bully."

You look on in amusement. You can't help but feel a bit nervous about the prospect of doing something you've seen be demonized so often. "I haven't," but this is a new start, right? "Are you offering?"

"Oh, sure," Larry leans toward where you're sat directly in front of him. "Do you want to? Just asking. You seriously don't have to."

It was amusing how hard he was trying not to be to peer-pressure you. You still felt an anxious feeling, but that was only natural. The want to do something "rebellious" overpowered your inner unease. "Uh, yeah. I'd like to."

And with that, he resigns to his own cigarette and slowly lays back onto the wooden floor, brown eyes stuck on the ceiling. Smoke cascades from his mouth and floats through the air. The treehouse begins to smell like a bonfire, the earthy scent sticking to the wood.

You move closer to Sal and maneuver yourself onto your knees.

"Alright," he starts, to himself. He grasps your hand—which makes your heart jump, and you can't tell whether or not you're nervous or his touch had just heightened your attention for whatever reason—and places the cigarette in your hand. "Put the smoke between your teeth."

You follow his instructions. Sal's suddenly closer to you, flicking the lighter with the pad of his thumb and birthing a flame. "Okay, stay still." Suddenly, his unoccupied hand is brushing your hair aside and ghosting the side of your neck before sliding back and flattening on your nape. Chills erupt all over your body from being touched so personally by the opposite sex.

Your nerves are all over as he gets even closer, inches the flame to the end of the cigarette, and lights it.

He pulls back. "Alright," Sal watches you intently. "Now take it and inhale."

As you do so, you notice him stand and walk to the side in your peripheral.

Inhaling it into your lungs tastes like oxygen deprivation and extremely burnt steak. Your entire body is shaking and shuddering as your body instinctively attempts to repel whatever you've just sent into it. Suddenly, there's a water bottle in your hands, and the cigarette has been taken away. The cap has been unscrewed prior, thankfully, and you drink the water. It tastes like god's tears and rainbows and angel dust and you gasp in relief.

"Sweet Jesus," you choke out his earlier statement unintentionally. "What the hell was that?" You raise your head, and he's got his head bowed, bottom straps of his prosthetic unbuckled and he's smoking your cigarette from beneath it. Smoke filters from behind the shadows of the nose and eyes of his mask and into the air and slowly dissipates around you both. "And how are you doing it so well?"

"The first time around is absolutely horrible," he replies to you attentively. "It's all burnt and stuff. Drink some more water and you can try again if you want."

You do as he says, and shortly after you're trying again. It's nearly as rough as the first time around but you hold it in for long enough to do what it's supposed to and breathe it back out.

"Oh," You murmur. "Huh."

Larry chuckles at you from his place on the floor. Sal sends him a lighthearted glare before returning his attention to you. "See? It gets better." Empathically, he adds: "I don't want you doing that much this time, though. The nic sick sucks."

You didn't ask what nic sick was but it was safe to assume it was the effect of smoking past your tolerance and ultimately resulting in nausea.

You pass the cigarette back and forth—Sal taking a lot more hits than you, but that wasn't saying very much—until it was useless. Sal placed it beneath his shoe and put it out. He and Larry both dispose of the cigarettes and return to you, matching your position on the floor.

"So, how was it?" Larry asks you, amusedly curious.

You shrug and smile. "Wasn't bad after the first few hits. Couldn't have done it without Sal, actually." You then meet the boy in question's eyes, who meets yours back steadily, But after a moment, he looks to the floor and sharply exhales through his nose, reciprocating your amusement.

Larry's face moves in your peripheral, and you look towards him, but his features are already changed to how they were before you'd looked away from him.

Huh.

By the time you'd all left the treehouse, the sun was falling behind the horizon, and the sky above you was becoming a darker blue.

The two boys walked you to your apartment.

"That was a lot of fun," you expressed warmly as you stood at your door. "Thanks for that."

"We'll see you at school tomorrow," Sal responded, shifting his weight.

"You can walk with us!" Larry grinned. "If you want."

You found yourself genuinely looking forward to it, agreeing on the suggestion, and turning to your door to open it and retreat inside. Before you could, you were stopped.

"Wait," Sal blurts. You turn, gazing at him curiously. The mask shifts on his face. "Make sure your hair doesn't smell like smoke. Mine always does. Shake it out before you go in."

You doubted your mother would even be awake, nonetheless notice your presence, but you appreciated his advice and followed it anyway. You passed your hands through your hair before shaking it for a moment. You flattened it as well as you could afterward and laughed at yourself.

"Think that was good?" You asked, flashing your teeth.

Larry raised his eyebrows, thoroughly humored. "I think so. What do you think, Sal?"

Sal's silent for a moment, like he's forgotten he's there. Just staring at you.

"Sal?'

He blinks, shaken from his reverie. He quickly recovers, as it'd never happened. "Oh. Yeah," he states, moving to turn around and leave. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

With that, Sal's down the hall and making haste toward the elevator.

Larry exchanges a glance with you and laughs, bids you goodbye with a wave, and departs from you by following after his blue-haired friend.

You think nothing of Sal's quick departure, grin as you think of the fun day you'd had, and enter your quiet apartment.

[omegaobeyme]

I've been obsessed with Lady Gaga's, "Judas" Song...and it gave me an idea for a short Fic. A Devil's Angel Tags: PG13+, scene of violence/death, Angel/Human!MC, DiavoloxMc, Spoilers for lesson 16 Part 1/?

Diavolo was a glorified demon, rivaling strength to only 2 other realm leaders. Of course, if you asked any obedient servant of the throne, he was naturally the obvious winner. So what happens when you have all of the strength a being could dream of and more? You "make friends" apparently. There was no way this all-powerful man could be up to such a light-hearted task. Perhaps it was his butler, Barbatos, with such knowledge and time who guided Diavolo to urge such a conclusion. Had the green-haired demon known a war was to commence? Was Diavolo truly unfit to win such a battle, and therefore needed another way out? These questions filled your head as you stepped into your new dormitory. You were a human, just not too human entirely. Angels essence filled your being thanks to your ancestor, Lilith. You had even met Michael himself years back when her memories flooded yours as the angel essence was supposed to take you to heaven. Long story short, you were in a temporary coma after a car accident. Simeon shook you out of your head with a hand on your shoulder, "remember why you're here." He said, with the same smile he always gave. It was too suspicious for a soon-to-be demon lord to be asking for unity, and god wanted answers. This is where you came in: a seemingly innocent human whose in an extremely unique position to gain an advantage; and more importantly, knowledge. Solomon joined you for your first tea with Barbatos and Diavolo, time allowing. Knocking on the door, you were met with the tired eyes of the butler. "Welcome, over this way." Barbatos guided the pair of humans and you couldn't help but notice how unnervingly perfect this man was. It was as if a board has been placed against his back, perfectly aligning his spine starting at his hips, threaded through his neck. Finally, he motioned towards a satin couch placed within an openly lit common area, decorated with lavish antiques, artwork, and instruments. Solomon broke the silence, "Ah, Auguste Allaire?" "Indeed." The green-haired demon replied, understanding his question without having to look at the painting Solomon was referencing. "I would like to clarify this meeting is to get to know our human exchange students," He began lifting a tray off his serving cart, finished with matching teacups and plates for the both of us, "As humans, it's of upmost importan-" Doors burst open, featuring a particularly muscled demon prince. "Barbatos!" Diavolo smiled so wide his eyes managed to shut. Not only was his personality loud, his laugh was louder. "Sorry, sorry! I'm late, aren't I?" If you were embarrassed, you can imagine Barbatos' reaction in his own mind. He simply sat down and motioned for his Lord to follow suit. It was at this moment you thought it was a horrible prank you somehow got involved in. Months would pass, much like the meetings you had with the royals. During these moments you were allowed questions pre-approved by Simeon. "Why do you want to unite the realms?" and "What happened to the king?" All of which never satisfied any angels curiosity. It seemed for that you'd continue this way forever, until the day you knew of him. The sun gently glazed over your skin, sending shivers at the unexpected warmth of the devildom morning. Of course, it was Lucifer. "I know you better than to sleep in, MC." His gaze shifts to your own, as his back turns to face the now opened curtain of your room. "I'm sorry, I don't usually sleep in unless I'm sick." You weren't lying, it was unusual. "Oh? Perhaps it would be best for you to stay home. I'll have Satan take notes in your stead." Lucifer retorted, sparing you no opportunity to argue back. Then again...this would give you an opportunity to explore the house, especially to find anything Diavolo's "right hand man" might be keeping. Simply nodding, you rolled the covers over your head and set the alarm for another hour, knowing well a mostly human like yourself couldn't escape their well-trained eyes to watch them walk away. At 8 a.m, you awoke to find breakfast in a tightly-sealed container. However, hunger

could barely invade the anxiety creeping upon you. First in priority was making sure everyone was gone, no one in the kitchen, bedrooms, studies, or observatories. Now it was finally time...you took the steps towards Lucifer's room, each slower than the last. Lifting the back of your hand, you knock only to realize the door opening upon contact. The air was noticeably cooler, and his record player opened, as if suddenly stopped. You draw your attention towards his desk, the obvious choice. As you go through paperwork, you realize you can't find any, despite the mountains on his desk every night. Of course. They must've been brought to RAD along with his briefcase he brings every day. But there had to be something. Anything. Go through his bookshelves: nothing. Flip through his records: nothing. The closest lead you've got is a sticky-note in his book with a quote. You take off, looking for any other places he could possibly be storing such sensitive information, then it hit you: the upstairs. Lucifer had made it such a point to not venture upstairs, could he have been more oblivious of such a hint? Honestly, it was still scary to think about going up to an unknown part of the house, but you had no other choice. After checking the time, you begin making the climb only to find a hallway with one door. A loud bang comes from an unknown direction, and you flinch, thinking someone had come home. Then a low chuckle comes from the room in front of you, nearly taunting. Once you gather your emotions, you continue onward to face whatever lay in front of you, only to find a normal-looking human. "who-" "oh, are you the new playtoy?" he responds, "excuse me?" You step backwards, out of reach from his hands, "I don't know what you're talking about." His smile fades, "oh, you must be another human.." He's human, too? "I know what it looks like, but you're not safe here. Ask about Belphegor. Meet me again when it's safe. He's coming back." the blue-white haired male shrinks back into the darker area of the room, and before you can process, your feet run down to your room. Not too long after, a knock fills the empty air. The handle turns, and Satan makes his appearance visible. "Wow. You do look bad. Maybe you should get back to bed." you shake your head, attempting to mask the heartbeat in your chest. "No! No, I'm fine, I swear. What's in your hand?" attempting to avert his attention, you point to the notebook in his hand. "Oh, that. Well I came here to study with you since I heard you missed the day." Satan moved in towards your bed, laying the notebook on your bedstand and flipping to the nearest filled-in page. "Here's the theories we went over, and the elixir's following. I've already taken geography so I brought my old textbook to help, and then there's realm science." You hold your hand up for him to pause as you look over each notes. "Wait, Griffins horn? I thought it was powdered unicorn hoof." He smiles, "Nice catch. We go over it next semester, some things can be substituted for higher-grade materials depending on the molecular structure. If you take a look at..." Satan proceeds to take your mind off the previous situation for the next two hours. That is, until you get lost in thought. "MC? MC, snap out of-" "Who is Belphegor?" you interrupt, leaving him speechless. He clicks his tongue, hand on temple. Everytime he attempts to talk he groans in frustration. Panic settles upon your face unsure of what you had just asked. Had he just set you up? Was he another demon out to steal your soul? What will they do when they find out. "What do you know?" Satan manages to find words, "I-" you begin to lose yours. What does Belphegor mean? It seems like a name but what if- "You know what? I don't want to know. Keep it to yourself." He gets off from the edge of your bed and slams the door behind him. This wouldn't be the last time you heard of him, nor the last you saw. The next morning was eerie. You weren't dead, but..it somehow felt like it. No one came to let you know of breakfast, even after a few minutes of waiting. It

wasn't like you wanted to show your face either, you felt naked. When you did arrive, everyone at the table remained silent besides minimal conversations. Beelzebub no longer tried to steal your food, and Asmodeus wasn't trying to flirt with you. When Lucifer announced it was time to head to RAD, a weight had been lifted from the silence. After opening the door, you noticed another figure beside him. "Good morning, Mc. May I trouble you in taking you out of classes for another day?" Barbatos lightly tilted his head as his eyes looked upon your soul. "O-Of course." You took the hand provided, as he lead you to the castle. When you arrived, Barbatos told you to make yourself comfortable in the first living room. Before long, Diavolo appeared alongside him. "Mc! It's good to see you!" he beamed, arms opened for a hug. "And you as well, Diavolo." Quick to your feet, you met his courtesy. He brightened further when you returned his affection. "Do you by chance enjoy flowers?" Thinking back to the celestial realm, you nod. Taking your hand, he shows you to the garden out back. "Out of everything I was not expecting a garden.." "Really? What did you expect?" His arms crossed and he moved closer towards you, watching your expressions as you gathered your thoughts. "Well, for a demon, maybe stone statues or torture devices." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Is that what humans think now? Are we that cruel?" Diavolo jokes, until Barbatos chimes in, "Times have changed since young masters reign." as he finishes, you notice the plate of gourmet sandwiches prepared for the two of you, placed on a garden table not too far off. Together, you shared the next two hours together chatting alone. Without distractions clouding the brain, things seemed to appear as usual. The brothers began talking to you as normal, including Satan. Simeon hadn't brought up any information or lack thereof since the last meeting with Diavolo and Solomon. In fact, Diavolo seemed to be taking more time out of his schedule to spend with you alone, rather than the two human exchange students. It was nice, for a change; until you remembered what occurred with the Belphegor situation. "So, why did you ask me here in the first place?" Diavolo noticed your body language shifting for a few minutes now, but he knew something was coming at this point. "Today? Well, I enjoy the company of-" "No, Dia. When you first brought me to this garden." It couldn't be helped, you had now formed a friendship with Diavolo. He knew too much about you and how you truly acted when you were yourself, rather than the puppet an angel could use. Emotions conflicted, parts of you yearned to let loose, yet at the same time, what if it was all just an act? What if you had fallen right into his trap, and he knew all along? Just like the dictator Michael had expected. Putting his cup aside, he took a brief pause before answering. "Satan told me that day what had occurred. I thought it best to ensure my exchange student's --" Diavolo stopped as you stood up, allowing your exit. "Tired. So fucking tired." You thought to yourself as you made your way home to the house of Lamentation. Of course, not only did the oh-so-friendly prince take you out of classes once a week, he adjusted your course schedule to reflect such changes. All you could think was how pathetic you are for allowing this to happen under your watch. You never felt fit for this job, but never more so in this moment. Hesitation couldn't be found as you made your way up the stairs into the room. "You're back. Angry. Cat got your tongue?" He was obviously trying to rile you up and it was working. "So who is Belphegor? Are you trying to get me killed?" At this point, he bursts out laughing, "you think this is funny?!" you scream out. "Very." He stops, looking directly into your eyes. "And you're only helping me escape. How about I tell you a secret? I'm not even a human. I know you understand that by now, but I'm Belphegor, the last brother. And you just helped me escape." Before you knew it, hands wrapped around your neck. It was

gentle enough to find release, running downstairs and towards the front door. It was always apparent there was risks, but that's why you had the angels blessing! So why are you so close to death?? Before you could turn the handle, it moves itself. Belphie takes the chance to knock you off your feet, immobilizing you and landing you upon your back. The door opens as Belphegor protrudes claws into your most vital organ, and cold rushes over you, processing the last visuals of Lucifer's shock with Diavolo behind him. "Open your eyes." You wince. He's on top of you, how could you look? There's no way a human could escape the wrath of a demon. "Did you forget about me?" the voice echoes. What? Opening your eyes, you find nothing but white space. Suddenly, a door appears in front of your body. "Don't waste it. And don't forget where you came from." Lilith? There's no way...but then, this couldn't be a dream. It felt too real. On the other side of the doorframe was your last visual before you died, from another perspective. Glimpses flash from her own memories as it floods into your own.. in a flash, your perspective of yourself and the brothers around you changes. You could see the door Lucifer held opening in mere seconds. He froze, in shock of seeing Belphegor out. What's more, the man behind him couldn't see. The red haired demon pushed through, to find the worst fate. Immediately transforming, he flies to your dead body's side. Anger wouldn't be enough to describe what you witnessed in his eyes, nor the grief he was going through. This wasn't normal. Nothing in your body felt that what you were watching was normal. A king's priority should be on subduing Belphegor, and here he was at your deceased version's side. Suddenly, Belphegor's words filled the air. "DON'T FUCKING DARE, FOR THEM? HAHAHA!" You've never heard such a deranged laugh before. Lucifer's eyes opened even further upon processing what Diavolo was accomplishing. Tears couldn't be found in Diavolo's face, he was far beyond it. Whatever was happening, Belphegor didn't dare interrupt. "L-Lord Diavolo, you can't sacrifice yourself for-" Diavolo paid no mind to his right hand mans attempt at stopping him, taking a deep inhale, hands at his horns. "I apologize mother, but I can assure you I won't be wasting your gift." time slows further as Diavolo begins to pull away at his horns. "STOP." Every head turns to look at you, including Diavolo. It wasn't until you died that it hit you. The moments before anyone realized you came back you saw his selfless actions for yourself.

[undiscovered-horizon]

Imagine being a warrior who grew up on an alien planet. One day, you become Doctor's champion in a trial by combat: a bizarre beginning of a relationship that will shake the universe in its time - Part 7

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 8)

Author's note: we're coming to an inevitable end of the story.

_____________________

The unforeseen guard was opening the doors to the morgue when the same demon seemed to have possessed both the Doctor and (Y/N). The two of them grabbed a nearby standing trolley meant for transporting bodies, and ran with it at the guardsman, effectively ramming him against the hard wall behind him. The man was fuddled but now unconscious, and so their only choice was to run forward. The War Dancer warned her companions that Tartayan guards never patrol alone and decided to lead them to one of the side exits.

They feel out of the hospital corridor into a narrow, dead-end alley. The woman said something under her breath in a local language, probably a swear word, told the other two to climb the buildings: they had to get onto the rooftops. The Doctor and Rose were, quite obviously, inexperienced in climbing buildings and were taking much more time than (Y/N) could have expected. She could hear the echoing footsteps of guards running through the same corridor as they did. She guessed there were three of them.

When all three "burglars" were on top of the roof, the War Dancer led them through the upper routes around the city. They had plenty of time before the guards would even think of doing the same. The woman slowed down maybe 30 minutes later when she was sure the guards were not following them anymore. There, standing on a random rooftop in the middle of the night in Tartaya, they had to come up with their next step.

"We have to speak to Lord Enchanter, I'm certain he has something to do with it. Did you see the holes around that man's mouth?" (Y/N) asked the Doctor and casually pointed somewhere behind her. By the look of his face, she knew he didn't. "Regular holes around top and bottom lip, found mostly in those who were Silenced. They are mute servants of Lord Enchanter. The catch is, they never leave the palace. They are not allowed to. It would be difficult to kidnap and smuggle an entire servant from right under the Lord's nose. He will either help us if he's innocent or try to kill us if he's not. Whichever path he goes, we will make some progress."

"They have sawn mouths?" Rose asked quietly. That day was not her greatest in terms of all the gore she has witnessed so far.

"It's paranoia really. With sawn mouths, they can't talk to the Lord's enemies and they can't start a rebellion. When you're illiterate and mute, it's generally difficult to create any kind of alliance," (Y/N) explained. "I don't mean to rain on anyone's parade but the Silenced are just a speck of dust in the aftermath of your friend's actions." Here she looked at the Doctor who was mortified. He could never have even presumed he would be the indirect cause of such barbaric practices. "All sandstorms begin with a light breeze, my friend," she said and awkwardly put her hand on his shoulder in an attempt at reassuring him. Just as quickly did she take her arm began and began walking towards the mansion of the Lord Enchanter: a rather ugly narrow tower which top overlooked most of the city. It was made out of white blocks polished enough to blind anyone with the reflecting sunlight. Considering it was nighttime, the tower looked a lot prettier with the moonlight making the white structure glimmer slightly.

When the three of them had reached the white tower of the Lord Enchanter, the sky in the east was starting to become red and orange: the morning was approaching. The entrance of the tower was even more imposing than the entire building seen from a distance. Heavy doors were around the same height as the giant (Y/N) took down hours prior. Each door had a handle that looked more like a door knocker: thick metal rings designed to look like ibises heads were holding them.

As one might have expected, (Y/N) did not bother knocking. She didn't even hold the handles, simply placed her hands on each of the doors and pushed. Although they haven't said anything about it, both Rose and the Doctor were absolutely astonished at the strength of that woman. It was easy to expect her to be strong in a general sense, as she was only slightly taller than the Doctor but the actual capability of that Tartayan woman was inhuman. And that was, perhaps, the reason why they both thought that belonging to elite warriors seemed like (Y/N)'s destiny. It was hard to imagine a more suitable candidate.

The inside of the tower was mostly empty and the scarce furnishing was kept rather minimalistic. It seemed like a silent, indirect, spit in the face of the majority of Tartaya that was living in crowded, narrow spaces. In the hall ahead of them was a black carpet leading to an open study. Among few bookshelves, scales and strange devices stood a man. He had an ibis feather in his velvet, decorative beret. An identical feather was making notes in a thick book on the desk behind the man - on its own, it seemed. The color and the material of the hat matched perfectly with his bizarre outfit.

"Ah, madame (Y/N) of Viperion! How may I be of help?" The man said. Now he was facing the trio that had just entered. He had a monocle on his right eye.

"I came to speak with Lord Enchanter."

Their voices were echoing around the otherwise empty hall of white stone.

"I'm afraid it is impossible," he said with his hands clasped together. Although his tone was apologetic, there was a strong dishonest tint to it. "No one can speak with our Lord without his worship personally requesting it. You, War Dancer, were not requested. And neither were your friends."

"No one specifically requests problems in general. If he's not willing to come down here, I will gladly go up there to him."

The man let out an awkward and impatient laugh.

"You cannot do that, madame."

"I'm a War Dancer, of course I can do that. And you can bet your funny little hat I will, seneschal."

"Most unwise," the man said in a low tone. He went back to his books and decided to completely ignore the existence of the three guests.

Behind the open study of the seneschal was a lift. It looked quite suspicious: one open metal box with a decorative lamp inside and outside. The faint reddish light was everything but welcoming.

Before stepping into the elevator, (Y/N) and Doctor gave each other a knowing look. They both realized at that moment, the second scenario was going to unveil in just minutes. That metal box was, currently, their only way to the truth, however painful and upsetting it would be.

Once inside the lift, moving upwards to the last floor, (Y/N) studied carefully the lamp above her head. The faint red light was no doubt coming from an et-ru stone, although there was no visible piece of the mineral. It looked more as if the red stone was first powdered and then dissolved in an unknown liquid. The best analogy to describe the peculiar lamp would be to imagine a glass of watery slime mixed with red glitter.

At the same time, the Doctor was scanning the entire mechanism of the lift with his screwdriver. A few times he furrowed his eyebrows and hit the device against his open palm. Whatever result he was shown, he was left unconvinced and assumed his screwdriver was malfunctioning.

"This lift has no mechanism, no crane, wires or anything," he said. "There are just those stones attached. They make everything work somehow."

"Now you believe my stories?" (Y/N) asked with a small smile on her face.

"The one about et-ru being a power source? Yes. But I'm still unconvinced about the whole adventurer-turned-god thingy."

"You'll grow into it," she answered right before the lift stopped.

The door opened only to reveal a very bizarre view. Most of the hall was lit by tall chandeliers that had pieces of et-ru stones instead of candles. At the end of the hall, ahead of the trio, was a window. Before the window stood a beautifully decorated, occupied, throne. It was made out of a black stone and had ibises carved into it. There were stairs leading up to the said throne. They were covered with a black carpet that lead the way right from the lift's door. On the sides of that platform stood two impractically tall bookshelves with more books than most libraries could even dream of having.

The man that was sitting on the throne was no doubt very tall, around 3 meters tall probably. He had long, beautiful, silky black hair that had its end below his knees. On top of his head was a minimalistic golden crown. The man was dressed in expensive, lavish robes that would be pulled behind him should he stand up. His posture was rather relaxed, amused even; he was leaning his head on his right arm that was propped up on the throne's armrest.

"Well, well, well, who have we here?" He asked with an obviously amused tone. The man's voice was deep and slightly hoarse. "The Dancer and her Doctor," the man completely ignored Rose's presence. She seemed to have been too unimportant for him to even consider her existence. "I was wondering when you'd show up."

[windblooms]

zhongli scenario – psycho pass au

inspector!zhongli × gender-neutral reader; 3.3k words, angst & dark content (violence). a document of zhongli’s involvement in sibyl as he becomes an enforcer. swearing, violence, heresy, trauma development – it’s psycho pass, a seinen series. please proceed carefully.

a bright individual in academics and well-respected in his social circle, zhongli was practically guaranteed a fulfilling life by the sibyl system.

his peers often looked up to him as a senior: not only did he study diligently and looked forward to integrating himself into society, but he took it upon himself to be an emotional resource for others. 

others often described him as a warm balance between equitability and empathy.  the word “pragmatic” derived its definition from him, or so was the joke that his friends tossed around.

“ah, you want to sweeten me up, don’t you?”  his laugh can pacify even the most irate of hounds – a siren for the “frenzied”, but of course dulled down, just as all passionate emotions are suppressed in this society. 

but, oh, sibyl.  what will you do to this man?

while zhongli directly benefits from the system – good-natured, charming, and from an established family – it’s only by the system’s choice.  self-autonomy is an illusion when it’s dictated by a hand that only has five fingers and one palm.

they all lead to the same end.

zhongli deludes himself with a restless brain. night after night leading up to his sibyl exam, he busies himself with the news (or at least what’s left of it) and sibyl system statistics instead of studying.  japan is peaceful.  he likes it here, and there’s a life waiting for him.  people anticipate his choices.  he can’t let them down, yet he also can’t help but wonder . . .

division one welcomes him with open arms.  with a crime coefficient of 36.7 and a pretty hue painted like cream vanilla, he is, in nearly every single aspect, a prime candidate for an inspector.

“mister zhongli, are you still working at this hour?”

you speak as if you’re not doing the exact same thing, lurking around the office far from when the lights have been shut off.  but your sincerity is reassuring, and as you hand him a glass of water at his station, he can’t help but smile.

“just some extra work childe left.  i decided to take over for him so he could sleep early.”

“ah.”  hovering around his desk, you shift your weight from one foot to the other like a ship rocked by the waves.  out of the corners of his eyes, zhongli sees you lean your body against his cubicle.  “and you’re sure you’re not making things too easy for him?”

“probably not.”

a muted chuckle from your lips; your shoulders don’t hold the tension they do during the work day.  “hopefully he remembers that you’re giving him extra sleep.  let me know if there’s anything i can do for you.”

“much appreciated,” the inspector replies without a beat in between, irises flickering momentarily back to his screen.  childe had actually finished most of his work; all that was left was filing and labels.  simple stuff, really.  childe could easily complete it in less than 20 minutes in the morning, although zhongli can’t bring himself to admit to you that he’s actively concerned with the beastly enforcer.

“actually, would you allow me to walk with you back to your apartment?  if you’re heading out for the night.”

there’s something in your eyes he can’t quite place the moment his proposition reaches your ears.  you’re set alight by his words, a switch flipped on and a charge igniting your cheeks an enchanting shade of coral – but it doesn’t consume your eyes.  had his proposal been too sudden?  you’re not exactly the closest of coworkers – perhaps he had wrongly assumed that you would be open to spending more time with him, even if just for a walk – and his paperwork is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles to compose an apology for his frankness.

he probably just should’ve focused on finishing childe’s work instead of giving you mixed signals.

“ – i promise, i thought you were preoccupied.  i’d love to be in your company, but i’m not sure how long your filing will take.”

zhongli finds that he can make it 10 minutes instead of 20.

it’s snowing outside; the streets are dark, save for the explosion of lights above in apartment buildings, and the only sounds in the night are of cars revving in the distance.  the chill is hardly noticeable underneath the layers of coats you two wear, and he only recalls that it’s winter when he gazes at his boots crunching in the snow, or when he faces you and puffs of warm breath flow from your lips.

admittedly, he’s not even sure where you live – so he walks alongside you as your companion. 

“beidou got moved to another division, and miss ningguang didn’t disclose why.”  you bite your lip, although zhongli barely catches your ministrations  in the dark lighting.  only occasional overhead street lamps illuminate your path, but you steadily walk forwards as if you don’t need it in the first place.

“i know it’s not my place to question.  i just think that beidou was doing well – it’s odd not seeing her around.”

“i believe there was an announcement earlier last week discussing structural changes in the crime investigation department.  beidou will be fine in divison three.”  zhongli’s reassurances are quiet in the ambiance, a pacifying lull of flowing water to a clear river.  your feet guide you to a left turn.  “i can pass a word to one of my colleagues in division three if you don’t have the time to visit.”

“oh?  i wasn’t aware that you were one for many connections, mister zhongli,” your voice teases his senses, much like your words poke at his penchant for introversion – but of course, negotiation when necessary.  “but you don’t have to go out of your way for me.  i’ll shift around my schedule for her.  you have your own enforcer to take care of, right?”

“that i do.  if it’s acceptable for me to say,” zhongli starts, briefly wondering if his subordinate will pardon the mentions of his name in unofficial business, “childe reminds me of my niece sometimes.  always looking for a distraction, for something engaging . . . which often isn’t the best thing to do at the time.” 

his fingers drift to the pockets of his coat, smoothing down the fabric inside as you continue.  "why don’t you bring her in for work one day?  i’m sure you could arrange something with miss ningguang . . . especially since you’re on her good side.”  

you don’t mention his standing with her out of malice, or with any hint of resentment in your voice.  your observation is matter-of-fact: it’s true, it’s tangible in how ningguang maintains eye contact with zhongli out of everyone else in division briefings, even when disbanding them; how, even just among division officers, her eyes are solely on him.

and of course you’d know this: everyone in the crime investigation bureau has heard about it from the analysts that mow over the security cameras in their spare time.

he exhales into the chilled air, one of admission with a lilt of humility.  the corners of his lips are etched unusually high onto his cheeks.  “ningguang prefers her workspace neat.  i guarantee that if i brought along my niece, she’d tear the place apart.  she might even give childe a hard time.”

“i take it that you’ve seen it first-hand?”

“well, yes.  not that i’d ever mention her behavior to just anyone.”  it’s his turn to chuckle at the thought, although it’s tinged with a hint of . . . dismay.  “but she’s smart.  i doubt you’ll be hearing of her tirades as she learns more about the system.”

your understanding is communicated through silence, yet it’s not unpleasant.  it’s heeding and respectful to his insinuations.  he’s aware that no one discloses much of their personal life – since at the bureau, there’s hardly any time for sentiment – and even much less the inner workings of sibyl.  among some inspectors, it’s a mutual feeling; a slight nag, but it’s also the truth. 

some just prefer avoiding it entirely, and on occasion, it’s also reciprocated.

“mister zho – ”

his wrist-watch screeches in his ear before you can finish uttering his name.  sibyl’s voice is entirely unwelcome on a quiet night such as this, with her magnetic, crisp timbre, and by the parting of your lips, zhongli knows you’re receiving the exact same message he is.  snow no longer conceals the pavement, but instead, numbers and letters.  images, even, of murky colors with three-dimensional graphs and timelines.  

“area stress level abnormal,” sibyl reports in his mind.  “enforcement action requested.”

there is nothing in his hands – there is no dominator to work with, only maps and crime coefficients strung together in zhongli’s head.  but you’re already fumbling for your phone, voice rushing to contact the bureau in the midst of the impromptu warning.  “shepherds to hounds, any available?  asking for immediate assitan – ”

for the second time in a moment, the sounds emitting from your mouth are overtaken by something else: shouting.  zhongli pulls you between two stores as you furiously usher commands to headquarters in the dead of night.  surely an analyst would at least pick up your call, if not another working inspector.

“suspect is in his late twenties.  crime coefficient . . . of 152.7.  do we have any methods of subduction without dominators while we wait for a proper team?”

“no – unless you prefer hand-to-hand incapacitation, or the small stunner.”  he doesn’t have to look at your face to know that you’re grimacing, diligently combing over the information you’re given by sibyl.  “it’s just one man.  he’s been running around for the past ten minutes, and if someone can pick up, it’s a 15 minute drive from the bureau.  he’s only latent.  we can just negotiate with him.”

your gaze catches his out of the corner of his eyes.  it’s dangerous for inspectors to directly involve themselves without dominators, especially without the intervention of enforcers as a preventative measure to not cloud their own crime coefficients.  you’re both vetted in combat as per inspector training, but without dominators as a barrier between barbarism and lawful jurisdiction, not even inspectors are exempt from sibyl’s eyes.

“ – was marked by scanners three blocks down.  approach one at a time?”

zhongli nods without hesitation, opening his watch to change into his inspector attire as you do likewise.  

“meet you there.”

you’re off first, your figure disappearing into the falling snow as the bureau logo on the back of your jacket flutters back at him.  he resumes the call that you left on, ears straining to pick up any sounds at all – from both his communicator and his surroundings.  a minute passes before he himself is off into the streets, running further into the murky blue of the circumference painted before him in his irises. 

out of all the corners he turns, all are empty, save for the occasional scanner.  he matches the data on the drones to the information that’s presented on his watch – except that the radius the two of you split up to search in is smaller than before, more specific.  also, noticeably more inclined to the streets you ran into; the suspect must have been picked up by more overhead scanners.

zhongli practically shoves his watch next to his lips, voice hissing into the mic.  “y/n, are you there?”

a pause, and static silence. 

and you pick up.  “yeah, yeah, i’m here.  got the new info.  think i’m closing in – i hear someone panting.  i’ll send you my position, and then i’ll approach and try to talk.”

“all right.  eta in three minutes.  be careful.”

you don’t reply, only sending him off with an emote through the pop-up display.

he runs as swiftly as he possibly can in two inches of snow the drag from his coat is also inconvenient, so he zips it up before resuming his trek.  another notification message also pops up from the bureau, and he’s reassured professional enforcements.  all he needs to do now is meet up with you. 

vaguely, he begins to make out the sound of two voices to his right, one of them distinctly belonging to you: even in tone, yet strained with cracks.  a momentary thought crosses him: why are your voices raised?  the negotiation must have –

“’ts a sick system!”

“sir, please, i can’t help you unless you try and remain calm.”

“just one time.  one fucking time – ” the presumed suspect’s voice rises louder, harsher, overruling your own.  zhongli picks up his pace.  “you lot can just walk around with your perfect academy scores.  so many options.  but one bad break for us – the regular ones – and we can be disposed of.  there will be a movement, mark my words.  this system is fucked, and so are all of you – ”

something – and the worst part is, zhongli doesn’t know what – audibly snaps, and he hears you scream.

he blows in the scene in time to see you, crumpled at the knees and grappling with the suspect, raising a limp wrist to his neck in a vain attempt to get the stunner off.  but the suspect knows what you’re trying to do – cruelly enables you even, by jerking you by the elbow towards his jugular – as you wheeze, palm against his shoulder in order to push away.

“what’s the matter, huh?  academy didn’t teach you how to fight like in the pits, inspector.”

zhongli charges in before thinking.  he only sees you, hair mangled and clothes torn at the cuffs, and the deranged target before him before all three of you collide together.

the snow does nothing to soften your fall, and after he tumbles to the floor with the suspect, zhongli regrets that he had to resort to such brute measures to get you out of danger; the suspect is much larger than you, and even him with his lithe frame, so it takes all of his strength to keep him pinned down onto the concrete, the snow filtering into the hood of his jacket.  and much like you moments prior, zhongli is wrestling to get the stunner off.

it’s as if he knows – the target knows about their methods, and keeps the face of the watch away from his skin, inhumanly twisting zhongli’s wrist away.  there’s a damaged light in his brown eyes, and zhongli can hear the grating of the man’s teeth as they go back and forth on the ground.

“eta!?”  the inspector nearly bites his tongue as he barks out the question, knee working to hold down the target’s thigh.

“a minute and a half!”

your trembling, staggered steps come up to his side in crunches.  perspiration nearly drips into his eyes despite the frigid air.  it’s so hot, even burning, and he realizes that the sensation isn’t bound to his chest as the suspect continues ranting about sibyl. 

“you don’t even question it!  neither of you have brains of your own.  but we can live!  and without your dogshit ‘justice’!”

your wrist is lifeless, but your watch shines on it as if nothing’s wrong.  the pain on your face extends to your forearm, where he can see forming bruises through the tears in the fabric; with bitten, bloody lips, you lower your wrist to the target’s neck as zhongli subdues him as best he can –

– thrashing like a red herring in a net. 

“bitches to the system.”

the target launches zhongli up and over his body, nearly tossing him to the side as if he were a hefty log, before making another start to you.  senses dulled by the pain oozing through your form, zhongli witnesses as your body crashes to the ground once more.  

you kick and claw at the man on top of you with what you have left, but he doesn’t relent, crushing your form under his body weight as you once again struggle to stun him.

“you’re all going to kneel soon enough.”

zhongli’s knuckles collide with the target’s cheek, just before your neck is encased by grimy, frostbitten fingers.  for the second time, he crashes to the ground with the subject, but this time he doesn’t hesitate to conduct necessary action.

“mister zhongli!  that’s enough, mister zhongli . . . ”

what jolts him from his frenzy isn’t you, but rather the sirens that gradually envelop the alleyway in blue and red. 

beneath him, the target is unconscious.  welts simmer onto his flesh with indents of zhongli’s knuckles, gnarly and ugly, just like the disrupted snow in disarray on the pavement.  his nose is bloodied, and just like your wrist, jerked at an unnatural angle.  the breaths in zhongli’s chest are haggard, like a beast awoken from slumber, in contrast to the target’s muffled inhales.

and his fingers – they’re painted scarlet as well, just like the ink on the target’s face.

“wow.  i never thought you’d make it past 70.  but this thing . . . ”  you’re no where to be seen, probably dragged off by the medics; metal clacks against a hand behind him.  “sorry, but all i’m seeing is 119.”

you’re light-headed once you’re settled into the back of the van.  your inspector jacket (or what’s left of it) is suffocating enough that you request for it to be cut off completely, since you can’t shuffle it off with a broken wrist.  the small back-up team of childe and keqing are fussing around the scene, keqing in particular instructing the retrieval of your heretic of a target.  

zhongli, on the other hand . . .

both hands subdued behind his back, drones escort him off the premise.  he doesn’t have his inspector coat on, and instead, childe approaches you with it in hand.  the white symbol of the merged caduceus and judicial scales is untainted by the dirtied snow it was subject to.

the enforcer’s voice is light, pretty much normal, despite the dire circumstances as he sits adjacent to you, legs hanging off the back of the van.  “you look like you could use a hot shower.”

you don’t humor him – frankly, you don’t have the energy to.  you were practically powerless, inept at fulfilling one simple task.  you think that, if you had been more forceful, zhongli wouldn’t be in the situation he’s in.  keqing wouldn’t listen to you, and maybe you were imaging sympathy in her amethyst irises when you tried – god, you tried – to defend your coworker. 

it’s not fair.

childe tsks, although it’s not out of irritation but more so impatience.  always one for instant gratification, but you’re so desperate to find some ounce of emotion at the sight of his partner being treated so poorly that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

after a minute of silence is when he admits to your sniffling.  although he doesn’t extend comforts, but leaves you to your own devices.

“if he wants to, he can rejoin as an enforcer.  which isn’t the worst option out of the few he’s given.”  the ginger leaps off the back of the van, and makes way for zhongli – but not before giving you some final words as you meet the topaz eyes of the former inspector.

“don’t blame your pretty head about it; he knew what he was getting into.  and at least you can drop the honorifics and just call him zhongli now.  he’s always told me how he wishes it was just that simple with his friends.”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Earth is Space Australia “The Invasion Continues

You all seemed to really enjoy the burg invasion, so here is some more. I hope you like it and I hope you have a great Monday.

“This planet…. Is a death trap. All our men are dead or…. Or dying…. Please we cannot survive any longer.”

The transmission ended rather abruptly, and the newly instated burg commander slammed his fist into the control panel, “What is happening!”

Around the room his counterparts scurried to avoid his anger.

“There have been reports of animal attacks, poisonings and…. Industrial accidents…. It seems that the human planet is far more dangerous than we originally anticipated. The entire thing is a deathtrap.”

Crew members cowered back against their station as a pincer slammed into the console, “They are squishy flesh-bags you should have no trouble taking them out!”

“The humans are not the problem, it is their planet. It is covered in boiling water, poisonous plants, angry wildlife, and apparently non-military have banded into pack-hunting structures in order to kill us, and it is working very effectively. We assumed that their civilian population would be largely inferior to their military counterparts, but it turns out that the non military humans are just more creative.”

The burg commander’s carapace chattered with his anger, “Then if we cannot win this war, we will hit them where it hurts.”

“Your glory?”

“Bring me the GPS coordinates.”

“The ones that we took from the destroyed human ship.”

The burg rubbed two of his upper legs together, “Exactly those.”

The burg second in command looked very confused, “But, your glory. These….. Are just locations on the planet related to specific human soldiers. Why would we need these?”

The burg commander tapped his leg against the console,

“Cut off the head, and the body will die.”

***

“This morning both local and worldwide governments have reported isolated pockets of alien ivation from all over the world, Let’s head to Jeff who has been traveling the eastern seaboard this morning with details.”

“Thank you Tom, and yes worldwide and local governments have issued a state of emergency. UNSC forces are being deployed as we speak to all locations around the globe where the Burg have been sited. However, this is no independence day Steve, this is something entirely different. While there have been reports about burg sightings, teams of them up to five or six strong in some cases, so far no one has been killed or injured, at least not by a burg anyway.”

“What do you mean Jeff?”

“Well isolated reports have reached us from all across the world of people who have accidentally run into burg remains rather than live soldiers.. Evidence suggests that Crocodiles, bears, wolves, poison ivy, army ants, hippos, kangaroos, and poisonous snakes have all taken up the cause of mother earth, who doesn’t seem particularly pleased about being invaded. And when the burg have made their way into populated city centers, well things haven’t gotten much better. Groups of drunken football fans in eastern Europe and the British isles have been seen roaming the streets of Berlin, Paris, London, Dublin, and Rome in packs . Vatican security forces were even dispatching a number of burg troops in the early hours of the morning.”

The TV screen cut to a grainy video of a dark street which showed a pack of riotous humans with bats, clubs, and broken chairs racing down the street after alien forms shouting insults to the fleeing backs.

The video cut.

“Reports in from Chicago have the local gangs, police forces, and a high school chess club teaming up and beating the invasion back with gunfire, improvised explosives, dogs,  and molotov cocktails of all things.”

“A truly shocking turn of events Jeff, but what are the UNSC saying about protecting us and our families during this time.”

“The UNSC is cautiously optimistic about the outcome of this event, Tom, but even so, they are advising that all Burg sightings be directed to the UNSC invasion hotline, with the number posted on screen right here, and available on all major mobile devices. Civilians are encouraged to avoid the burg if at all possible, though if those are not an option for either you or your family, the CDC has issued reports that human saliva can be fatal to the burg due to a certain enzyme which known to break down burg slime, and the potent cocktail of germs which follow. Your best weapon is to spit at them, barring that, than go right ahead and beat them to death with any available blunt object within reach, or sharp object. Shaolin warriors in china, Samurai enthusiasts in japan on Renaissance goers from america to europe are finding uses for swords and bladed weapons they have not been used for in the history of man. Attack dog saliva is just as useful as human saliva in this case so if Fido wants to get in on the action, your best bet is to let your pooch go ham and serve himself up a plate of space crab.”

“Thank you Jeff, and stay tuned where we will be receiving real time updates on the state of the invasion. But for now will your homeowners insurance cover alien invasions, what you need to know.” Martha, Jim, and Sunny sat on the couch staring at the TV.

Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully, “Better stay inside, Sunny. I’m sure after that there might be some people to gungho to notice you’re a bit too pretty to be a burg.”

“Alien invasion.” Martha muttered, “Do you think we should get the guns ready, just in case.”

The man shrugged, “Couldn’t hurt. Come on Sunny, you know how to use a gun don’t you.”

“I am Chief weapons specialist.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Martha stood, “Grab my shotgun will you, dear, I’m going to go check on Adam.”

He nodded, letting her go. Sunny glanced over her shoulder catching a glimpse into the room through the door where Adam was lying out cold. She was pleased to see he was still asleep, and had slept through most of the night.

Hopefully this alien invasion thing would be over by the time he woke up.

***

Martha appeared at the top of the stairs into the basement, just as Jim and Sunny were coming up the stairs, a gun in each hand.

Martha took one from Sunny and walked into the kitchen, where the three of them sat at the table loading weapons. The doorbell going off nearly startled them out of their seats, but Jim went to go get it.

Sunny listened intently.

“Hey dad, did you see the news this morning?”

“Oh hey David, why don’t you come on inside, good morning to you Jordan, ah and my nephew.” Sunny lifted her head as David, Adam’s older brother, walked into the kitchen with his partner Jordan and their little boy bouncing happily in Jim’s arms.

Martha got up to hug her sun, and the other members of his family.

“Yes we heard about that.”

“Oh, hi sunny. Is Adam here?”

Martha had the group of them take their seats, “he’s resting. Apparently he went and saved the universe just recently, and we are trying to get him to rest. So don’t talk about the whole alien invasion thing too loudly.” 

“Oh, sorry.”

It was just at that moment that the absolutely deafening sound of engines rocked the house rumbling through the floors and shaking the very foundation.

“What in blue blazes.”

Outside the front window a chain of bikers and rednecks doubled up on old rickety dirt bikes raced past the window screaming and brandishing guns. The line seemed to go on forever until they vanished down the road.

“What in the hell.”

A groggy voice just behind them, “What’s going on?”

They all turned to find Adam leaning against the hallway wall rubbing his eyes and looking rather bleery. He was still very pale.

“Just the neighbor kids being louds, now, Go back to bed!”

Adam appeared too groggy to be skeptical and just staggered back to his room.

The group of them looked at each other nervously.

“Sunny and I will stay here and guard the house, you three mind going outside and checking out what is going on.”

***

They had come to cut off the head. All remaining burg forces had been rerouted from the rest of earth, and were now making their way towards the GPS coordinates. They knew they could not overtake earth, but if they couldn’t do that then they had vowed  to destroy the morale of humanity and take away it’s greatest nuisance.

Commander Adam vir would be dead before the sun sak below the horizon.

They entirely expected to show up in surprise, unannounced, but earth had different plans for them. In the space of ten minutes, two of their troops was hit by a minivan, and a third was attacked by a very angry small dog.

Walking along the fence line another burg ran into a very strange creature. It was very small, and sat atop a fence post, its golden eyes fixed on the burg as it lazily flicked it’s tail back and forth. Its ears were drawn back flat against it’s skull. He approached, and the creature hissed. He went to shoo it away with a hand.

And was immediately set upon by a very angry cat intent on ripping his eyes out of his face.

Their luck only worsened as engines rolled up the street, and a group of hungry looking bikers, teamed up with a very gleeful group of rednecks came charging down the street guns blazing. Motorcycles spun out, humans went flying.

Nearby, in the residential houses, families hid in their basements, while others made it to rooftops taking pot shots from their balconies, upper windows, or sometimes form the peak of their rooftops. 

One young man had been very industrious, unbeknownst to his parents, and began chucking lit molotov cocktails out the window of his bedroom. 

His older brother, also a chemistry geek upgraded that to homemade napalm.

From the other end of the street, the highschool girls softball team, and the girl scouts rolled up on hover boards and the backs of bicycles. The  softball team had a mounted automated pitching machine on the back of a wagon, and each girl was equipped with a bat, and a bucket full of balls.

The girl scouts had apparently been preparing since last night, and had water guns full of spit, which was pretty gross but rather effective.

The softball captain took up a mounted position at the back of the wagon, and began pouring the balls into the machine which fired out at about ninety miles an hour give or take five. One burg had his face collapsed in an unlucky turn of events.

Their invitation to the high school baseball team had not gone un-headed, but they had brought with them the chemistry club, and the robotics team, who had downgraded to potato guns for the moment.

The police rocked up a few moments later to create a blockade down the next street and coordinate so now humans got caught in the crossfire .

An unsupervised cheerleader, had made herself rather industrious  pulling up with a vest full of hair products, which people seemed skeptical about until she sprayed a burg right in the eyes, and turned another can into a flamethrower. A group of firemen showed up behind the police, blasting lines of Drev with high powered fire hose 

I took the burg longer than it should have to determine that being lumped into a group wasn’t the best idea and so broke off into smaller units managing to sneak in through the mele and into the neighborhood.

Their luck didn’t get much better.

One of them was nailed in the head by a dirty diaper dropped from an upper window.

Another found himself hounded by the cross country team, who were gleefully using mankind's god-given talent of distance running to run their prey into the ground, hunting like pack humans should before beating them to death with tire irons and crowbars.

Someone’s dad stood on his front porch armed with a fire extinguisher and his tool belt, while another mom had packed her kids neatly into their car seats and was roaming the streets with ACDC blaring through her open windows, mowing over any unsuspecting burg that happened to end up in the street while her teenage daughter offered free ammunition and snacks from the back window.

The UNSC showed up late to the party rolling into scene in jeeps with proper military equipment and drones

By this time the invasion force was dwindling, and only a single group had managed to make it through to their target.

A little house in the center of the suburbs unsuspecting in the warm overhead sun.

They crept forward a few of them moving around back while the others inched around front.

One slid up to the front door, reached out a hand and opened inward.

They were met by the barrel of a shotgun and a very angry blond woman, and her face twisted into a snarl, was the last thing he ever saw.

***

Adam was woken a second time by gunshots. Bolting upright in bed and nearly passing out from the vertigo. He blinked blearily past his fuzzy vision and out the door as his mother backed into the hallway. There was another loud blast and blue icor painted the wall before her.

She backed down the hallway, and he could hear the repeated pump of the shotgun as she backed down the hall.

The burg chasing after.

He tried getting to his feet, but ended up on the floor gripping the bedside table for support.

His mother’s hair flew wildly about her head

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY SUN.” Another mob of them was rounding the corner.. It looked like she was going to be over-run.

But a sudden swirl of blue overtook them, and Sunny charged into them dispatching at least four less than as many seconds. A whimper came from the corner, and he turned his head to find Jordan, wide-eyed standing in the corner blocking his son shakily holding a rifle in one hand.

Martha backed up until she was kneeling right before Adam blocking him with her body.

Sunny was backing down the hall now too as the Burg followed.

Jordan took a deep breath and peered around the doorframe, taking one or two shots as sunny flattened herself against the wall, before he ducked back into cover.

It wasn’t looking good.

Not at least until Jim, and David came bursting in one through the front and one through the back mowing down the remaining burg.

Adam found himself flat on his stomach pinned to the floor as his mother through herself over him blocking his body with hers despite how much smaller she was.

And then the gunfire stopped.

“Martha! Martha!”

“We’re ok Jim.”

“Jordan.”

“Right here.” The two of them ran into the room David scooping up Jordan and his son, while Jim ran to make sure his wife was ok.

Outside, boots clattered on the porch, and a group of UNSC soldiers burst into the house sweeping their guns over the blood painted walls. They stopped when they saw Adam sitting at the foot of his bed very much alive, 

“Delta to Alpha one the package is secure.”

Adam was thinking about asking his mother why no one had told him about the alien invasion.

But then he saw her cradling a shotgun covered in burg blood hair in a wild mess and decided that.

Maybe that was a topic for another time. 

[itsallabigmess]

Crescente | Part Five

A/N: I’m a bit late on my schedule but here it is.  Now, I told some of you there would be a certain scene on this part but I decided to move it to the next one. Part Six will be the last part of this series but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna add an epilogue to the story. Once again, thank you all for commenting on the previous parts. I can’t wait to read what you have to say about this one.

A.

PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART

“Y/N, please. Come back to bed.”

You woke up with the sound of angry waves reaching the shore. Kneeling over the small couch, you watch your plans to spend the day at the beach being spoiled by the bad weather.

“Maybe it will get better later,” you look over your shoulder, at Jinyoung. His eyes barely open as he lifts half of his body from the bed with a growl, as if it is the hardest thing to do. “Just come back to bed.”

But you are not sleepy anymore. Tired? Maybe, a little bit. Especially your legs. But unlike Jinyoung, you have no wish to spend the morning or the entire day in bed.

And then, you remember.

You rush downstairs, grabbing the travel guide from the telephone table. The package offered full access to the Resort’s Spa. How could you not think of it instantly? You ask Jinyoung, going back to the room if he wants to join you. He answers by pulling the comforter over his head and fake snoring.

You spend the next three hours having your head massaged and hair washed, and then massaged again. Your entire body gets scrubbed and moisturized. You remember yourself to not vocalize anything that might sound weird, but you are so relaxed, it gets hard to form any coherent thought. Or stay awake.

When you finally open your eyes, they feel watery and heavy. “I fell asleep, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” the therapist smiles down at you, massaging your hands. “That’s good. It means I’m doing my job right.”

She gives you a final neck and shoulder massage before guiding you to another room where you’ll get your hair blow-dried. When it’s all done, you are invited to stay as long as you want in the relaxation area of the spa. This is great since you feel too light to do anything other than sink on the plush couch with a cup of warm tea.

---

The villa is dead silent when you come back. Jinyoung is still lost in deep sleep, somehow. You don’t wake him. His stomach will do it for you very soon, you are certain. At some point, while you were at the spa, the rain had stopped. Grey clouds still cover the sky, but you can see the sun trying to make its way through it. You go inside to change into one of your bathing suits and loose shorts and go for a stroll by the shore.

You walk long enough to reach the next villa, and the next one after that before turning around. You see a family playing near the water, where is shallow and the kids can run freely. You move closer to where the small waves cover your calves. The water is far from the coldness you were expecting, and you are taking your time enjoying it.

The back pocket of your shorts vibrates. Jinyoung is finally up and asking where you are? Just in time, you think. Your stomach is starting to growl.

[13:22/You] Almost there. At the beach. Go outside and look to your right.

From the distance, you can see his form standing in the sand. The closer you get, you notice Jinyoung had already changed to his vacation look: knee-length shorts and a plain t-shirt. This one is black. His hair is not completely brushed, eyes are puffy.

“How late did you go to sleep last night?”

“Not that late,” Jinyoung grumbles, pressing his palms over his eyes. “I haven’t overslept like that since I was a freshman. Effects of jet lag I guess.”

“Good thing we’re on a vacation. You can sleep as much as you want.”

“Says the person who seems to hate the idea of catching on sleep.”

You shrug, spinning in place. “I can sleep once we get back home. Who knows when I will have the chance to be in a place like this again? Can you even remember the last time you went on a trip?”

“Didn’t you go to Europe last year?” Jinyoung raises a brow, his hands hidden inside the pockets on his shorts.

“Paris, for work,” you sigh heavily. “Couldn’t even see the Eiffel Tower so what’s the point.”

Jinyoung presses his lips in an awkward thin smile and nods to where you are standing. “Isn’t the water cold?”

“Not in the slightest,” you say, and to prove your point you kick it in his direction, a trickster grin on your face.

“Really?” Jinyoung steps back. He looks unamused and unimpressed, just like he did on the day you visited one of the islands nearby. You don’t even try again. Your stomach is rumbling, and you need to fill it with food. But when you pass by him, Jinyoung grabs you from behind, lifting you by the waist. “You are not gonna get away from it that easily.”

He drags you towards the ocean and you can’t stop squirming, trying to get away from his grip. “No… Jinyoung… please… stop!” You try to speak in between laughs. And when you feel the water reaching your knees you scream “My phone!”

Jinyoung releases you and you run back to the villa, reaching for your back pocket. Your phone is still intact, thank God. “That was close.” You say to Jinyoung as he reaches you, shaking the device for him to see. He takes it from your hard and throws it over one of the sunbeds. You have a second to think before Jinyoung grabs you again, lifting you as if you weight nothing, dragging you back to where he intends to give you a lesson.

When did he become so strong? That is all you can think as he makes you two go underwater. You come to the surface and jump over his shoulder, but Jinyoung is way more agile than you, and, with his arms around your middle, you go under again. When you finally manage to escape, you crawl out of the water, letting your body fall in the sand.

“I got the message,” you say breathlessly to Jinyoung when he sits by your side. “No teasing.”

“If you can’t handle the outcome,” he lays on his side, head propped on his left hand, his right coming to gently wipe away a few grains of sand and sea-salt from your cheeks, your collarbones, your shoulders. There’s a fondness in his eyes when he speaks again. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Making a fool of myself?”

“No,” Jinyoung shakes his head, his eyes following the way his right-hand slides down your arm, finding a way to stop on your waist. “Happy.”

When his eyes meet yours again, you realize you are holding your breath, just like you were a minute ago underwater. It takes a few heartbeats to remember you are at no risk of drowning. Even if it feels like it. “I won’t stay happy once we get inside and I see that all the hair treatments I got at the spa went literally down the water.”

“Don’t worry, you still look great. You always do,” Jinyoung spread his hand over your middle, and on cue, your stomach growls, making you both chuckle. He in amusement, you in pure embarrassment. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Jinyoung gets up and stretches his hand to you. “Let’s get lunch.”

---

With the weather still unstable and without many options of what to do, you and Jinyoung decide to rent a car and drive to one of the towns close to the resort. You have local food in a small restaurant and go for a walk, stopping in a few shops, buying some gifts for yourself and to bring back home.

“I thought we were not going to tell people about the trip,” Jinyoung says.

“It’s not like people won’t notice my tan,” you point out, looking down at your arms. “Besides, if I don’t take something back to my boss, she will never let me take time off work again.”

While you are busy picking different types of coffee and chocolate, Jinyoung finds out the city has an enormous botanic garden only 30 minutes away from where you are. You love walking between the picturesque buildings, the grey old structures fitting well with the cloudy day. But it is still so muggy, you both are glad to enjoy a few minutes in the air conditioning of the car.

The botanic garden is huge. The biggest in the country, you learn not long after arriving. There is no chance of you seeing at least half of it in the two hours you have left before sundown. But there is enough time to appreciate the rose and orchid gardens, refresh yourself by the natural fountains on one of the courtyards, and visit the cactus greenhouse.

“You know they have treetop activities here?” Jinyoung says grinning and you look over your shoulder at him. “We could go zip-lining again.”

“Ha! No thanks, I’m still traumatized.”

The air has shifted once you left the greenhouse. The air blows cold now and you are not surprised when, on your way back to the car, heavy rain starts falling down on you. You and Jinyoung start running, desperately looking for cover until he spots a desolate wooden gazebo.

“Another thing to check out of the list to do during the trip,” you laugh, twisting the hem of your shirt. You are completely soaked and for some reason, you don’t mind it in the slightest.

“For someone who was whining about the lack of sun in the morning, you seem abnormally amused.”

You shrug, sitting on the bench in one of the corners. “I can’t say it ruined my day.”

“The weather should clear tomorrow,” he says, brushing back the wet locks of black hair as he sits by your side. “So we can have a day at the beach.”

“We?” you raise a brow at him.

“I mean, I will be sitting under the shadows while you will be…”

“Paddle-boarding. Maybe ride a Jetski? And of course lots and lots of sunbathing,” you hug your own body and close your eyes. Maybe if you don’t mind the rain, you do wish for the sun warm. “And I want to watch the sunset again? I mean, not from a boat but, you are good at finding places for us to visit.” You push your shoulder against him lightly. “Maybe you can find another place for us?”

“Sure.”

“And watch the sunrise. God, can you imagine what must it be to watch the sunrise here?”

“You are completely smitten with this place, aren’t you?” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Aren’t you?”

He smiles at you, and you feel something aching inside your chest. “The resort offers this tour for watching the sunrise at the top of a mountain, but it involves hiking while it is still dark.”

“Hard pass,” you cringe, shaking your head. “We can just wake up one morning and watch it from the beach in front of the villa.”

Lightning clears the dark sky and the sound of thunder that follows echoes all the way from the trees to your body. You bit your lips to avoid the trembling, and press your fingers in tight fists, trying to lose the numb feeling on your fingertips.

“You are shaking,” Jinyoung notices, pulling you to his chest. His hands move up and down your back. He feels surprisingly warm against you.

“You’re a furnace,” you murmur, letting your face fall on the curve of his neck, trying to get as much heat from him and you can.

He lets an arm around you, the other hand closing around your wrists, lifting your fingers to his lips. He blows warm air against it before taking it to his neck, placing his hand over yours.

For a moment you forget that you are in a distant place that only gets darker and darker and that it might be hard to find the way back to the car. You ignore the fact that the storm is ceasing, and the wind is not hitting as cold. And you really don’t want to think about how you are practically sitting on your best friend’s lap, with him pressing you against him. You only want to feel his warm, and how comfortable it feels having his palm rubbing up and down your back. And how your hand seemed to find its way to the back of his head, and how soft it feels to slide your fingers on his hair.

And then it hits you. You become aware of it all at once and open your eyes as if you had just awakened from the most astonishingly strange dream. You lean back, as much as the arm around you allows. If you lean forward again you can kiss him, and the thought alone leaves you breathless.

But this is Jinyoung. This is your best friend. You shouldn’t be thinking of kissing him. Yet, your mind doesn’t know anything other than the shape of your lips.

Jinyoung’s eyes are dark as he stares at you. They tell you absolutely nothing. But he is not moving. His arm is still around you, and his lips part slowly. His chest raises and when you think he is about to do something, everything around you turns bright.

The light inside the gazebo flickers twice before steading. You close your eyes again and open them slightly, adjusting to the light. You feel cold again when Jinyoung releases you completely, and when you look up, you see a man standing at the entrance, holding a giant umbrella.

“You guys okay?” the security guard asks, and you notice he is holding a flashlight. The energy might just get cut off at any moment again.

“Yes, we were just waiting for the storm to stop,” Jinyoung says, waving at him, getting up.

“The gardens are closing for today,” the guard informs, sounding impatient. “I will walk you two to the entrance.”

---

It’s still cold inside the car. You are still hugging your own arms, head clouded, and fuzzy. It takes a moment to realize that Jinyoung is studying you. Worrying you were still shaking without realizing you smile weakly and say, “I’m still cold.”

Jinyoung turns the car on and then the heater, hot air being blown at you. “It won’t help much if we continue with wet clothes.” He says, looking over his shoulder before reaching for the bags on the backseat, pulling one of the shawls you’ve e bought earlier. He offers you the fabric and your eyes travel from the fabric to his expectant gaze. “What?”

“Look the other way!”

“I’ve been seeing you in bikinis for the past days, Y/N.” Jinyoung shakes his head but stretches the shawl in front of him. “It’s not like it would be any different.”

Except yes, it is different. Your swimsuits do a great job of covering your breasts completely while the bra you are wearing is mostly lace and doesn’t leave that much to the imagination.

You take off your shirt and drop it close to your feet. You wish you could dry your body but there’s not much you can do other than take the fabric and cover your upper body with it. Jinyoung has still your head turned to the other side, just in case, and you don’t miss the opportunity to tease. “You shouldn’t be paying attention to my bikinis.”

“It’s hard not to,” his voice sounds huskier than you expected – even though you are not sure what you expected - and you feel a flip on your stomach.

You make sure you are completely covered before speaking again, “I’m decent.”

Jinyoung glances at you for a moment, and then get rids of his button-up shirt. The black tank top he had underneath doesn’t even look damp and he ruffles his hair a couple of times before driving away.

“There’s another one of this,” you tell him, shaking your shawl.

“I’m good,” Jinyoung keeps his focus on the road, driving fast but not fast enough to make you worry. Your focus, on the other hand, on his naked arms and shoulders, the collarbones you can see partially. You try to think about when, in all those years, Jinyoung became so bulky, but can’t pinpoint a date. Sure, you both had changed over there years, but it’s like you only noticed Jinyoung’s physic on this trip. And since he insists on keeping his shirt on, this is the first time you are really seeing him. And you just can’t stop letting your eyes travel the length on his arm, the big hands closed around the steering wheel, then back again to his arm, chest, flat stomach.

Jinyoung glances at you before his attention is on the road again. “You are staring.”

“It’s hard not to,” you snicker. “I told you, you were gonna get a funny sunburn.”

Jinyoung looks down at his shoulder, visibly paler than the rest of his arm and shrug. “I have no intention of walking around shirtless.”

Pity, you think of saying but bite your tongue. You spend the rest of the drive back to the villa focusing on everything other than the feeling of Jinyoung’s arms around you, or how his scent put you in the best wave of dizziness. How the shawl around you doesn’t feel as warm and it felt to have bits of his skin against yours.

And you really don’t want to think about how dangerous it feels to want more of him.

[dual1pa]

meeting his ex-wife

hi so this is my first Charlie imagine so go easy on me lol 

Warnings: language, nicole and charlie argue at dinner, kinda doesn’t go with the plot of the movie, fluffy

also i didn’t really know how to end it but hehe enjoy anyways 

You were meeting his ex-wife tonight. Honestly, there was nothing you should really be afraid of. At the end of the day, who cares what his ex-wife thought of you? The only reason you were meeting is to take Henry home for the week. It was Charlie’s idea to bring you along to meet her. You were hesitant at first, but gave in to Charlies pleas. Nicole’s mother was making the entire family dinner and wanted Charlie apart of it, since he was coming to pick up Henry. 

Your eyes were glued to the clouds the entire flight. It always amazed you how high you were on an airplane. Everything just seemed so small. Huge cities looked miniature and the uninhabited land looked so beautiful from up above. Charlie sat beside you in the middle seat, reading the free magazine that was in the pocket of the seat in front of him. He occasionally cleared his throat and looked over to you (you were too busy gazing out the window and overthinking to notice) and smiled, then continued to read. 

After grabbing your overnight bag from the overhead compartment, hand in hand, Charlie and you walked through the busy LAX airport. Since you were only staying one night, you only packed for one night’s stay in a city you’ve never been to. New York was your home and you could never get up and move away just like that. You never knew anything else. 

“God damnit. This happens every time I come here.” Charlie shook his head, actively pressing the rental car alarm hoping the car was nearby. A spark of joy hit him when he heard the loud car alarm. Once you reached the car, you placed your bags in the back seat and hopped in the passenger side of the car. His hand rests on your leg as he pulls out of the airport parking lot. 

The ride was quiet, except for the light sound of the car radio playing a top 40 station. Charlie knew that those were your favorite kind of radio station. 

“I can tell you’re nervous, talk to me. I’ve known this woman for a very long time, I know a lot about her.” 

You turn your head towards his, squeezing his hand on your leg, “What if she doesn’t like me? Does it really matter?” 

He chuckles, “You’re a fucking catch, babe. How can anyone not like you?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. What if she gets jealous or something?” 

Charlies looks over at you with a confused look on his face, “Babe, she divorced me. We went through a nasty divorce with lawyers. She tolerates me, but wants nothing to do with me. Though, she’ll probably ask you a ton of questions.” 

He takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his lips, kissing you gently. 

Charlie turned into a development where all the houses looked the same. You weren’t shocked at how all the houses were so spaced out because you knew not everywhere was like the city, it was just a weird feeling to see in person. 

He drove the car up a driveway leading up to a large home. 

“Wow.” you said, admiring the structure. 

“Wait until you see the inside, the foyer is bigger than my entire apartment.” Charlie let out a chuckle. 

Eyes wide, you stepped out of the car. Looking down at your skin tight jeans, you made sure there were no wrinkles. Hand in hand, you walked up the cobblestone walkway up to the door. Charlie knocked on the door, but noticed that the door was unlocked. 

“Hello?” his voice echoed. 

No one answered, the house was silent. 

Out from the living room popped a man who was wearing laser tag equipment. He looked at the both of you, putting a finger to his mouth motioning the both of you to be quiet. Just then, a woman popped out from behind a wall and tried shooting the man, missing. 

“Darn! You got me.” she shook her head. 

She looked over at the both of you, “Hi Charlie!” she said, giving him a welcoming hug. 

Charlie introduced you to Nicole’s mother, she was very friendly and gave you a hug as well, 

“Make yourselves at home!” 

The man, who was Nicoles boyfriend, Carter, introduced himself and showed you into the living area. Charlie sat down on the side of the couch, you right next to him, legs touching. Carter sat down in the single chair across from the couch from the two of you. The room fell into an awkward silence. 

“So, how was the flight? I’m personally afraid of flights, I could never.” Carter said nervously. 

Charlie nodded, “You get used to it after a while I guess. But our flight was pretty good, right babe?” 

“Yeah, we got here safe and sound so that’s really all that matters. How’s life out here?” 

“It’s- uh- great,” Carter takes a sip of his drink, “Nicole is great.” 

Before you could get another word out, you all heard a door open and closed, “Honey! We finally finished the one scene today, he’s finally dead! We can move on to the next scene.” 

Nicole stops as she enters the room, looking at Charlie then Carter then you. 

“Hey Charlie.” she smiles slightly. 

Charlie stood up to kiss her on the cheek. He introduced you to Nicole. 

“Hi, how are you?” you asked. 

“Good! So nice to meet you.” she smiled and brought you in for a hug. 

“You too.” you smiled, she didn’t exactly hear you due to so many things going on. 

Henry soon found his way into the room, 

“Hi.” Charlie exclaimed, finally excited to spend some time with his son in the big city. 

“Hi.” he said, his voice low. 

“Can I get a hug?” Charlie asked. 

Henry nodded, walking over to hug his dad. 

“Dinner is now served, if people want to start making their way into the kitchen to grab plates and stuff.” Nicole’s mother said, smiling. 

You grabbed a plate and looked at all the options on the big island in the white kitchen. 

“You have a beautiful home.” you told Nicole’s mother as she was in line before you. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. When my husband was alive, he helped build it.” 

You nodded, “Oh, really?”

“Oh yes. He always loved doing things with his hands.” she giggled. 

You followed Nicole’s mother into the living room, still listening to stories about her husband and what they did when he was still around. You found it pretty interesting. Charlie saved you a seat next to him while Henry sat next to him, full conversation with one of his cousins. 

“You okay?” he wiped his mouth with a napkin. 

“Yeah. All good.” you smiled, kissing him on the cheek, low key hoping no one saw. 

“So, Y/N, how long have you been dating my ex-husband?” Nicole asked. 

Weird phrasing but okay, you ignored it. Charlie shot her a look. 

“It’s been almost a year, right honey?” 

“Yeah, 11 months and a few days. Our one year is coming up and I’ve got some surprises up my sleeve.” he smiled at you. 

Nicole only let out a chuckle and took a sip of her red wine. 

You really weren’t sure if she was trying to make you uncomfortable or uneasy or she was just curious, but the more she asked you about your relationship with Charlie the more you couldn’t wait to leave. Henry was spending the night at Nicole’s home and Charlie and you were spending the night in the apartment. Your flight was scheduled for 8am. 

"Where did you two meet?” 

“Oh, well, I help Hannah with costumes for all of Charlie’s productions.” 

“She’s very talented and she’s great with a sewing machine. I asked her out for coffee one day and just like that, we instantly clicked.” Charlie grabbed your hand from underneath the table. 

“Remember our first date Charlie? We went to that fancy restaurant in New York City... Ralph’s? I think it was Ralphs, yeah. Best Italian restaurant in the city I swear. Have you taken Y/N there?” 

Charlie shook his head. You could tell he was annoyed with Nicole’s snarky remarks. 

“I haven’t. I don’t like going back to those restaurants, bad memories you know?” 

You wanted to smirk at his statement, but thought that would be inappropriate. 

Nicole’s mother changes the subject before Nicole could say anything else, “Who wants dessert?” 

The rest of the evening, you kept your distance from Nicole. You weren’t sure what her problem was. She has a new guy in her life, why can’t Charlie have a girl in his life? 

“Honey, it’s getting late, I think it’s time we get going.” Charlie announces. 

“I agree. We do have that early flight in the morning.” 

After saying your goodbyes, Charlie reminded Nicole to have Henry awake, dressed and ready to leave by 6:30am. She simply nodded. 

You slam the passenger door and put on your seatbelt, Charlie does the same. 

You close your eyes as your head hit the back of the seat. 

“Well, that’s Nicole for you.” Charlie laughs. 

“Why was she a such a bitch though? Call you her ex-husband instead of simply just saying your name.” you shook your head. 

“I’m not sure, really. She.has a new man, what’s the problem. I’ll never know.” Charlie said as he backed out of the 

“I’m not really sure why I care what she thinks. I’m wondering if she doesn’t want me around Henry.” 

“Well, Henry likes you and I like you so who cares?” 

As much as you love meeting new people, it just wasn’t a good idea to meet Charlie’s ex-wife. Nonetheless, you were excited to be able to spend the week with Charlie and Henry. 

[existentialspacecowboy]

Deadeye 2: Electric Boogaloo

I added a second chapter to my fic inspired by @5hio’s wonderful royai/fma cowboy AU. What started out as a one-shot may develop into a full fic, as I really do love this! In the meantime, please enjoy this second helping <3

The fic so far is available to read over on AO3 and the second chapter can be read below the cut if that’s more your thing ;)

Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 2: sunsets and firelight

They’ve been riding for a few hours now.

Atop their respective steeds, and side-by-side, the journey has mostly passed in silence with nought but the sound of hooves against the prairie to disturb the peace.

He’s made casual conversation a few times.

But Riza doesn’t seem all that keen to talk.

It isn’t born out of rudeness, no, Roy instead supposes that she simply isn’t all that used to company.

After all, most gunslingers like her tend to go it alone.

Roy can’t think of anything worse, these few weeks he’s spent alone have been enough hell for one lifetime.

So, he’s glad for her company.

The sun is low in the sky, its orange hue casting shadows across the plains, and bathing them both in evening rays. There’s just something all the more ethereal about watching the sunset from horseback, Roy decides.

And the colour of the sky reminds him of her eyes again.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Roy pipes up, throwing his glance momentarily in her direction before continuing to observe as the sun dips steadily beneath the horizon and out of sight.

He wonders just how many sunsets she’s watched out here alone.

She hums, “We should think about making camp soon. It won’t be long until it’s dark.”

“It is getting cold,” Roy agrees.

She turns her head back towards him, “I think that’s just the alcohol making you feel cold.”

She’s right, of course.

The effects of the alcohol still linger within Roy’s system, even despite the sobering experience of the bar fight. There’s a dull throbbing behind his eyes and in his temples that tells him the morning hangover is going to be killer.

But that’s a problem for the Roy of tomorrow.

They canter for a little while longer, Riza’s dog contributing the occasional bark at its own shadow, before the woman stops suddenly and dismounts from her horse.

“This seems like as good a place as any,” she informs him as she surveys the area with hands poised sharply at her waist.

Roy decides to defer to her judgment. Frankly, he’s not so sure what makes this particular spot any better than the miles and endless miles of dust they’ve already trekked through today, but he’s happy to stop. He’s exhausted, and his own Mustang beneath him is flagging too.

It’s been a long day.

Clambering down from his horse with about as much grace, coordination and dignity that a drunkard can have, Roy successfully manages to get his boot caught in his stirrup.

Overshooting the force required to release his foot, Roy sends himself toppling backwards and he lands with a harsh thud, his back stinging against the ground.

“Ow!” He splutters, choking on the dust his impact kicked up. Escorting a hand behind himself, Roy rubs at the impact site on his back and knows that it’s definitely going to bruise.

He silently hopes that Riza hasn’t just seen him make a complete arse of himself.

She has.

“I’m impressed you were able to stay upright on your horse for the entire ride,” Riza explains, arms full of bundled canvas and bedrolls, with her amusement barely concealed.

“I’ve been way more drunk than this before,” Roy states, wearing it like a badge of honour. He grins up at her dumbly, but she isn’t impressed in the slightest.

“Here,” she says with a curt roll of her eyes, dropping a bedroll down onto Roy’s stomach like a dead weight.

It’s the second time today he’s had the wind knocked out of him, this time his legs shoot comically upwards and curl inwards towards his chest from the bedroll’s impact.

I probably deserved that, he thinks.

Standing to his full height, and pushing the bedroll under his arm, Roy moves to tie his steed to the abandoned fencepost next to Riza’s own. He brushes his palm gently down his horse’s snout, offering her praises and a fuss behind one ear.

Riza has already set about making her tent when Roy strides back over, she’s efficient in its assembly and he supposes it must be second nature for her by this point.

The same can’t be said for him.

Rolling out the bedroll is simple enough, but setting up a tent? Roy’s sure that he doesn’t have enough arms.

And his alcohol addled mind is doing nothing to help the situation.

After what feels like hours of fumbling, and with his head trapped inside the canvas somehow, he feels another pair of hands take the material and help to free him.

“Here, let me,” Riza says softly, impressed by Roy’s enthusiasm, but amused by his failure. “You collect the firewood instead.”

That’s probably a little bit more up to his speed.

A short stroll away from the camp leads him to a babbling stream; on its banks, he finds dried perennial grasses and old branches. He puffs his chest out in victory and gathers arms full of the stuff so that he can make a sufficient fire.

His foraging effort successful, he returns to camp to find Riza proudly stood beside his tent, making the final few adjustments to ensure the structure is secure.

“Thanks,” Roy says with an honest smile, “Found us some firewood too.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says. “Just set it down over there.”

Depositing the wood, leaves and twigs into a heap, Roy reaches into his pocket to extract his lighter.

It’s pure silver, an heirloom from the father he’s never met.

Successfully sparking the fire to life with a flick of his wrist, Roy re-caps the lighter and passes his thumb idly over the initialled engraving.

He only realises he’s been daydreaming when Riza breaks the silence between them.

He realises she’s scowling.

“What was that?” Roy asks, not having heard what she’d said the first time due to his personal distraction.

“I asked if you smoke,” she repeats, voice laced with apprehension as she gestures pointedly towards the lighter, her lip curled in something like distaste.

He laughs, “Only on days with a ‘y’ in them!”

She’s not laughing.

“Well,” she begins curtly, “If you must smoke, I’d rather you didn’t do it in camp.”

Roy blinks, confused, his brow furrowed tightly. Yes mother, he thinks, but he’s able to bite his tongue.

Instead, he nods and simply repockets the lighter, “You’ve got it.”

***

Roy’s stomach gurgles in anticipation, a reminder of just how little he’s eaten over the past few days, as Riza stirs a pot of beans which sits warming enticingly over the fire.

She’s already passed him a bowl; it’s simple, wooden, and nothing like the silverware he’d been used to back when he was a sheriff.

“Should be warm enough by now,” Riza hums, extending her arm outwardly towards Roy.

He passes her the bowl, eyeing her over the top of it with an expression akin to a puppy begging for scraps, as she begins to fill it.

“Please, ma’am,” he drawls, “May I have some more?”

“Idiot,” she says endearingly with a shake of her head. “Fine, you can have another scoop.”

Victorious, and with his bowl piled high, Roy immediately gets to work. Jamming his spoon deep into the bowl, he piles up a hefty portion and pushes it deep into his mouth.

He watches keenly as Riza sets aside a more conservative portion for herself before seating herself down beside him. She has a bottle in hand, too. Roy hopes that it’s something strong. He holds his hand out expectantly.

She scoffs.

“Absolutely not,” Riza scolds. Instead, she tosses him a bota bag. “It’s water-only for you, at least until you sober up.”

Roy whines, catching the bottle and uncapping it before taking a glug. He’s almost forgotten what water tastes like.

They nourish themselves in silence for a while longer until both of their bowls are emptied. She collects his, rises to her feet, and sets them aside to wash in the morning.

Roy wonders if she ever stops thinking about what’s next.

But he also supposes that ignorance is a luxury not afforded by those who call the Wild West their home.

It’s a while before she seats herself beside him again and, when she does, she has another bottle in hand. She sips slowly from it, her focus trained on the flickering campfire.

“You really know your way around out here, huh?” Roy asks, shattering the silence, and keen to know more about her.

“I’ve lived out here almost my whole life. It’s all I’ve ever known,” she explains, casting her sepia eyes over to him.

He frowns, “Have you always been out here alone?”

“Not always,” she sighs after a pause. “It used to be me and my father.”

Her eyes drift back over towards the campfire and stare idly ahead, clear in thought.

He’s clearly prodded on a nerve.

“My aunt raised me,” he interjects quickly, keen to change the subject and regain her focus.

It works. A small smile plays at her lips, a curiousness in her eyes.

“Here, just let me –” He sticks out his tongue and purses it between his lips as he rummages around inside the deep pocket of his overcoat. He finally finds his prize.

In the palm of his hand sits a gold pocket-watch; it shimmers in the dull light of the campfire, the seal of the lion clear on its front. He brushes off the lint and blows on it before he buffs it clean with the corner of his sleeve.

Her eyes are wide when he looks up.

He swallows.

She points towards the watch inquisitively, “Is that gold?”

He nods.

Something like a frown sets about her face again.

“My aunt gave it to me,” he explains.

He supposes it’s entirely likely that Riza may never have seen gold in the flesh before, especially not all the way out here.

He pushes the clasp on the watch with his thumb and reveals the clockface and small photograph inside.

He hands the photograph to her.

“That’s me and, as you can see, I’ve gotten more handsome with age,” he grins.

She chuckles with a shake of her head, her frown dissipated.

Next, Roy jabs a finger at the other figure on the photograph, “And that stubborn battle-axe right there is my aunt.”

“I can see the resemblance,” Riza notes quietly, studying the photograph.

“She raised me. I never knew my folks. They died when I was young. She never told me exactly what happened to them. Said it wouldn’t do any good to know.”

“I’m sorry,” Riza notes apologetically.

He dismisses it with a wave of his hand, “Don’t be. No use mourning parents I never knew, right?”

She hands him back the photograph, nodding her head, a flickering sadness in her own eyes, “I never knew my mother, either. She died having me, so I understand.”

Roy swallows, eyeing her apologetically, “That must be hard.”

She shakes her head, “It’s like you said, no using in mourning, even my father never spoke about her.”

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I am sorry.”

She nods again, “Thank you.”

He leans to rest on his elbow, looking up at her.

“Hey, who needs blood relatives when you’ve got a horse, a dog, and a drunkard to look after, right?”

Sharp as a tack, she fires back, “Who says I’m keeping you?”

Roy chuckles, “Fair enough.”

At least it made her smile again.

Riza finishes her drink silently and rises to her feet. Dusting herself down, she eyes Roy like a mother scolding a son for staying up way beyond his bedtime. “It’s late,” she says, “And you need to sleep the alcohol off.”

“I’ll go take a leak,” Roy tells her, “Then I’ll head straight to bed.”

She scrunches up her nose and Roy supposes that they don’t know each other quite well enough for toilet humour just yet.

Hayate has joined the woman’s side by the time Roy has managed to drag himself up to his feet; the dog patters obediently inside the tent as Riza holds open its entrance.

He can’t help but smile at the sweet scene.

But he also can’t help but be a little bit jealous.

He’s about to ready himself for bed when he notices that he pauses before entering the tent herself.

She looks to him.

“Goodnight, Mr. Mustang,” Riza breathes softly.

Now, that makes his heart flutter.

He beams, nodding enthusiastically in acknowledgment, “Sweet dreams, Ms. Hawkeye.”

He watches as she disappears out of sight, smiling dumbly and fondly to himself for a few seconds until his brain eventually catches up and rather unhelpfully reminds him that he still really, really needs to pee.

[bangtan-madi]

546 Days Without You — Eleven: Day 412

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 3.1k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 11 / 15

Warnings — minor language

Previous — Next

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. Time flies by as you travel from Korea to Europe, then to the Americas, then to Australia. In the four months that have passed, the amount of concerts has crossed over two-dozen. You've crossed into at least half as many countries across six continents, and this is only the half-way point.

Shortly after the new year, the group finds itself emptying out of the plane. Having landed in Nagoya minutes before, at an ungodly hour of the morning, you struggle to keep yourself awake. Gravity pulls your body towards the earth. The soft rain falls, creating a lullaby for the weary souls trekking towards the ride to the hotel. You'd like nothing more than to let the ground swallow you whole.

Tour has left most of the members worse for the wear, despite the joy and fulfillment that it brings on an almost daily basis. You considered it a gift from the gods that you had a whole 36 hours before the show. Everyone needed a good shower, a proper meal, and a long night's sleep after leaving Melbourne after the last show. If the next concert was going to be a success, the boys and you needed it desperately.

Along with some cheering up. It isn't lost on you that this is the last show for the next month. After Nagoya, you'll all be heading back to Seoul, where Hoseok and Namjoon will begin final preparations for enlistment. Their date is just under a month away; once mid-February arrives, you'll be saying goodbye to two more members.

It's the thought that's consumed your mind as of late. A lot has happened since Seokjin and Yoongi were conscripted; over a year has passed. Both the time and space have allowed you to reevaluate your stance on conscription.

A soft hand shakes your shoulder, bringing you out of your quasi-dream state and back to the moment. Jimin offers you a hand, assisting you in stepping from the car. The hotel is dimly lit against the Nagoya sky, and the famous castle stands high against the horizon. Any other night you might stay and admire for longer, as this city was one of Seokjin's favorites, but you willfully allow your closest friend to tug you into the building.

As Sejin checks the group in for the next few nights, you throw your arms around Hoseok's neck, mumbling, "Up, up."

The brunet bends down, scooping you up and cradling you against his back. Hands under your thighs, arms around his shoulders, head lulling against the crook of his neck, you welcome his comfort — quite literally with open arms. The youngest member kindly grabs your suitcase.  Breathing deeply, your eyes flutter shut once again.

"Jungkookie's right," you slur on the short elevator ride to the upper floor. "You do smell nice."

Hoseok's laugh reverberates through his body, one of the greatest sounds turned to one of the greatest feelings. It's joy taken physical form.

"You're so cute when you're delirious," he chuckles.

"Don't make me out-rap you next time we perform. I have no problem taking my brother's place in 'UGH.'"

Hoseok slides the key to one of the rooms. "Oooh? Threatening me now, are we?"

Nodding against his shoulder, you tighten your arms when he tries to put you down. "M'comfy."

"[Y/n]-ahhh."

"Fiiine."

You drop your clingy arms from around his neck, and Hoseok settles you onto the queen bed in the center of the room. Jungkook drops off your suitcase, giving a small wave before departing for his suite across the hall.

A sudden vibration originating from your jacket pocket causes you to stir. A soft, quiet chorus from Seokjin's last song plays. Your exhaustion suddenly fading, you tug the phone from your pocket. Your boyfriend's face glows on the screen, giving you the option to accept or decline a face-to-face.

A grin spreads across your face, and you accept without hesitation. The call connects, and suddenly you're able to see him. He's already dressed in uniform, the patches on his collar revealing yet another promotion that happened over the new year. This status gives him even more freedom than before, and he can pretty much call you whenever he wants. Yoongi has reached the same status, although he tends to send you more voice memos than actual calls. Just like the two of you used to do.

Seokjin laughs, eyes crinkling up at the corners, at the sight of you on your side. Cheeks mushed up against the pillow, eyes barely open, curled up into a fetal position, you must be a sight for sore eyes.

"Just landed, I see?"

"Shut up," you murmur.

"You look exhausted, Jagi."

"That's because she is, hyung," Hoseok interrupts from across the room. He's finished dragging his suitcase into the room, then opens the door that leads to the other bedroom in the other suite. "Can't you call some other time? We're about to crash."

You roll your eyes and snicker. "Someone's getting cranky."

"He's right,"

Seokjin chuckles, bringing your attention back to his face.

"I just got up, and I wanted to check in, make sure you got to Nagoya safely. That's all. Don't want to keep you up."

Giving a thumbs-up, you force a smile and pull yourself into a sitting position. "Never better! Slept the whole way. How the hell are you up so early?"

"You know me: I'm always the early bird!"

"Yeah, except the earlier you get up, the more chaotic you are. Remember the punching bag and yoga mat incident?"

"Well—"

"—Or the time you about choked on mangos, after calling yourself elegant?"

"Aish! I get it! At least I don't snore when we stay at any—no, every hotel."

Hoseok returns to the doorway, toothbrush shoved into his mouth and an unamused expression on his face. He gestures with a flourish of his hand. "Wrap it up with loudmouth. I'm dead. We can admire your bickering tomorrow when we're human again."

Giving the older member a nod of assurance, you watch in mild amusement as he leaves for the washroom once again. Turning your eyes back to the phone, you find Seokjin mirroring your playful, mischievous expression.

"We're the worst, aren't we?"

"Oh, definitely."

Seokjin sighs, then straightens his posture.

"Do me a quick favor before I hand up?"

"For you, anything."

"Wooow, cheesy, [Y/n.]"

"Be quiet or I might change my mind!"

"Can you show me the Castle? In the center of Nagoya? I'm sure your hotel can see it. You can see it from anywhere, pretty much."

Your smile softens at his request. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you step towards the balcony door. Even through the window, Nagoya Castle is stunning. Once the door is opened and you step out into the crisp air, you flip the view around so Seokjin can see what you do. The lights around the castle case brilliant golden light across the white and green structure.

"Wooow,"

he breathes, causing you to smile at the screen.

"That's just like how I remember."

"Wish you were here to see it in person."

"You know I would be if I could."

Flipping the screen around so that he can see you once again, you ask, "When can you use the time off you've built up? I didn't think there was anything you had to wait for after your first year."

"Not on paper there isn't," he nods, running a hand over his shortened black hair. "But you haven't been back in Korea since before then—way before then—and I can't leave the country while on leave, so..."

"You can take a day off without us being there, you know."

Seokjin shakes his head stubbornly.

"Not vacation time. Nope, I'm saving all that for when you come back."

"We'll be back for a few days when Joon and Hobi enlist, their ceremony and such," you mention.

"I know..."

His sentence trails off, awkward and hanging in the air. Your boyfriend's eyes avert yours, and something in his voice cues you to pry further.

Tilting your head slightly, you lean against the railing of the balcony. "Why the hesitation?"

"I'm not hesitating, it's nothing."

You cock an eyebrow and smirk. "You're a liar, Kim Seokjin. Fess up."

His lips pull into a smile, and his eyes flutter shut. Not out of exhaustion, as your own so desperately crave, but out of near-annoyance.

"I was going to surprise you, fool! I was going to take off those days and show up at the dorms without telling you...but I guess you read right through me."

To say your jaw dropped in surprise would be a huge understatement. Eyes gaping and breath caught in your throat, you gawk at your boyfriend as he bursts into laughter.

"Surprised, Jagi?"

"Um...yes! You—wait, how? What?"

"Korean, [Y/n]. You can rap for god's sake."

You shake your stun away, forcing watery eyes to remain held together. "You're serious? I'm really gonna see you in less than a month?"

Seokjin's laughter fades, but his eyes are still sparkling.

"Very serious. I've already gotten the time approved."

Tears prick your eyes, and you lower your head into your sweater sleeve to hide from his gaze. This only amuses Seokjin.

"Getting all soft on me again? Your cool exterior is crumbling."

"I hope you know that this is all your fault, you ass. I never used to be this close to crying all the damn time."

"It's cause you've been without me for so long, isn't it? I'm your cure."

The balcony door slides open, revealing a sleepy, disheveled, and unhappy Hoseok. He doesn't say a word, only glowers at you—whites of his eyes hardly visible as he squints—until you sigh, "Fine, I know, I know. Time's up." After which he nods once and disappears back into the hotel.

"I'll go,"

Seokjin agrees, voice lighter than when he first called.

"Gotta do some work sometime today."

You blow a kiss to the camera, one that he pretends to catch and hold against his chest, over his heart. "Love you, miss you, but you know all that."

"I do,"

he teases.

"Love you, miss you, even more."

The next morning, you're awake after most of the other members. The sound of Hoseok drying his hair brings you out of peaceful slumber, much to your grumpy chagrin.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" he cheers, already fully awake even before coffee.

You give him the universal sign of love and affection, otherwise known as the bird, and stumble towards the other bathroom. Hoseok giggles at your less-than-pleasant attitude and goes about his business as you struggle to get ready.

After stepping from the hotel room, refreshed and ready for the unplanned day, Jimin appears with a cup of coffee extended towards you. "Fuel for m'lady," he greets.

Grateful for the favor, you give him a swift hug and walk at his side towards the recreational area on your floor. Suited with a pool table, miniature bar, breakfast nook, dining and sitting area, it's a perfect place for the whole group to spread out and hang in the free time. Since the members and staff take up most of the rooms on this floor, you basically have it all to yourselves.

"So, what's the plan for the day?" you announce as you enter.

Taehyung looks up from his platter of local tamagoyaki; beside him, Namjoon continues to read the book in hand. "I don't think we've decided," the former states.

"The show isn't until tomorrow night, so we have time to kill," Jungkook states from the breakfast bar. He's piling every kind of Japanese breakfast cuisine he can find onto his plate. "Sejin says we can kill time here if we want."

"Or we can go out and explore with the managers," Hoseok adds as he enters the room. "I don't know about you, but I'm starting to feel claustrophobic."

"Agreed," you mutter. Taking a long sip from your coffee cup, you walk towards the breakfast bar and snag onigiri. Looking around, you make sure that the members are the only ones present. No managers, no staff, no cameras. "I have an idea."

At your lowered voice, you catch the youngest's attention first. Jimin grins in your direction, and you flash them both a mischievous wink. "Aigoo," Namjoon breathes.

"I think we all need to get out of here, and I don't know about the rest of you, but I kinda wanna explore Nagoya like a local. No security, no managers, no babysitters. Think about it--when's the last time we did that?"

"Went out without Sejin or security, and outside of Korea?" Taehyung asks, and you nod. He takes a moment to contemplate, eyes flitting upwards as he thinks. "Honestly, I can't remember."

Hoseok pipes up. "Since before Wings, probably. We're never really alone anymore."

Sensing trepidation from the members, you hop up onto the back of the sofa, perched with legs crossed. You press the tips of your fingers against the opposite hand's, creating a mirror image of mischief in front of your wicked grin.

"Here's my proposal. I've been to Nagoya a couple of times with Seokjin. It's one of his favorite cities, so I know all the best spots for fun. I also know how to avoid staff for the same reason."

"Yeah, you're an expert," Namjoon scoffs.

You hold up a hand in his direction. "Be quiet, Bonsai Boy. The Queen is speaking."

"She's spent too much time with Jin-hyung," Jungkook murmurs under his breath, and you choose to ignore him for now.

"So...who's going to take a leap of faith and trust me?"

Jimin mirrors your folded-hands, then slowly moves to rub them together with a slightly evil chuckle. "I'm in."

"Of course you are."

Jimin grabs the Taehyung and Jungkook by the arm, dragging them closer to you. "They are, too."

Seeing neither Maknae put up an argument to the contrary, you turn your hooded gaze to the eldest members present. "What say ye, Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon?"

Hoseok begins bouncing on his toes, clapping his hands together as he turns towards the leader. His smile is bright and wide, earning a sigh and shake of the head from Namjoon.

He gestures towards you with a defeated smile, dimples showing at the corners of his mouth. "Lead the way, Ms. Queen."

Having the agreement from each member, you clap your hands once and announce, "All right! Everyone go grab what they want for an afternoon and evening out. Make sure to grab a cap or beanie and glasses so we can blend in. I'll text the managers and tell them we're going to be hanging out in my room and that we want some alone time. Done it before, and they've never bothered me so I think it'll work. Meet back here in two minutes."

"How do you expect to get out of the hotel without being seen?" Jungkook inquires as he removes his arm from Jimin's grasp.

You reach up and pat the younger boy on the head. "Don't worry. I'm magic."

As everyone scurries back to their rooms, you text Sejin along the way; you give the listed excuse, and then grab a jacket and shoulder bag. Hoseok tosses you one of his beanies, and you pair it with your sunglasses.

Once reconvened, you nod for the boys to follow you. Pressing a finger to your lips, you tip-toe down the hall. The members follow suit, equally as quiet and sneaky, like a series of ducklings behind the mother goose. Instead of going towards the elevator, you lead them to the opposite end of the hallway. The staircase is unmarked and unguarded, but you've stayed at this hotel before on a previous trip and remembered it from then.

Opening the door, you usher each of the boys inside. "Go to the second floor. There's a fire escape we can take from there that will put us outside the building without having to run into everyone waiting in the lobby or the fans outside."

"You're eerily good at sneaking around," Taehyung repeats the sentiment from earlier, though he's smiling instead of shaking his head.

Your grin widens. "Did I ever tell you that my first date with Seokjin involved us sneaking into a theater to hear the live orchestra perform?"

"That makes a lot of sense," Namjoon chides in his usual passive-aggressive tone.

Once outside the hotel, around the corner from the entrance where most of the fanatic fans and insistent reporters pool together, you turn to the boys with two thumbs-ups. "Free at last! So, where do we wanna go? I know the best miso katsu place you'll ever visit. Or maybe we do something outside...or maybe a bit of both! What are we feeling?"

"We just ate," Jimin states, patting his stomach to show he doesn't have any room for more food at the moment.

Tapping your chin, you think back across all of the times Seokjin had taken you on various tours of Nagoya over the years. It's at least half-a-dozen times at this point, and on those days, you'd had a variety of adventures. Food, art, thrills, history: he'd shown you them all. You've explored the Castle and various other historical shrines and temples, and you've been to just about every food market and restaurant in the Showa-ku and Kita-ku wards. Museums and galleries have been ventured, as have tours of local wildlife and expansive parks. There have been many a shopping excursion, and you're an idiot if you think that Seokjin hadn't taken you to an amusement park or arcade at least a couple times. Holiday festivals, cosplay summits, local music--you've done it all.

But there's one adventure you had two years ago that's stuck in your mind ever since, the one day you both had more fun acting like children than any other date prior. A massive grin spreads across your face, and you grab the two oldest members' hands, dragging them towards the nearest subway station.

"Woah! Where are we going?"

"The Meijo Line!"

Taglist — @joyful-jimin​​​​, @gracehiii​​​, @live-2-fangirl​​​, @rjsmochii​​​​, @btsnatalena​

[darthspideys]

antithesis // seven

din djarin x jedi! reader

summary: You expected to find another of yoda’s species, much less under the protection of a particularly stubborn mandalorian. Little do you know its that discovery that will change life as you know it, and put all three of you in danger you never saw coming.

words: ~2k

If you weren’t so in your own head, you probably would have kissed him. It feels right, you can see his face for the first time and the moonlight is drenching everything in a light glow, a breeze makes its way through the trees. It’s the kind of moment that a normal person would think is perfect , but you're too in your own head to make the most of it. You just stand there, staring, taking in every inch of his face until finally he says something. 

“Tell me about your parents.” 

You don’t shy away from the question for the first time. “My father never told me how they met, but I assume it was some chance meeting. They ran off together, lived on this tiny farm in the outer rim where no one would find them but she got unhappy, she missed her home, she missed her people. Instead of leaving him, she had me, and I kept her there for a while,” This is the part that you really don’t want to tell anyone, “She was never going to stay, it was only delaying the inevitable. They argued everyday before she left, I’d lay awake in bed listening to the shouting and I could feel the anger they both had, only she resented him for trapping her there. The next day she was gone, and that was it.” 

He nods slowly, and takes a step towards you, “And you went to look for her.”

You laugh, but it's cold and hollow. You shake your head, wanting to push him away, “She tried to stage a rebellion against Vizsla and the Empire, it was early on in their rule and they needed Mandalore under their thumb. She died way before I could get to her.” You shrug. You feel responsible for a lot of things, for your father dying, for everyone who died under your command, for everyone who's gotten close to you and ended up in harm's way but your mother is the one person you have never felt responsible for.

“I want you,” You say suddenly, “But you don’t want me. You think you do, but you don’t. My birthright is losing love, and running and leaving. I can love someone but I can’t keep them, because I will always run. I can be with you the way you want me to be, the way that I want to be.” More than anything you just want to let out a long scream, “I am not enough for you.” 

“You are everything to me,” He says, taking you aback. It seems to surprise him too. 

You laugh, genuinely and loudly, “You met me three days go.” 

His cheeks go pink, “You just said you loved me.” 

“Love is one thing,” You say, stay smiling, “Being someone’s everything is a completely different story. I know I was going pretty fucking far into the whole trauma bodning confessional but I did not expect you to match me in intensity.” You say, “I’m not rational, if this is going to work you have to be the one who thinks about things.” 

He rolls his eyes, “And now your back to admitting you want this to work.” 

“Of course I want this to work.” 

“You just said-” 

“I just want you to know what you’re getting into.” 

“Oh I am well aware-” And then he kisses you. 

And all of a sudden you're kissing him back. 

You’re just standing there, more vulnerable than you’ve been in a long time, kissing him and the world around you doesn’t change or anything. Both of you still have a lot of issues to sort out, and the empire is still looking for you but there’s something to be said for a kiss that doesn’t change a lot but means everything. 

That night you sleep wrapped up in his arms. 

He’s asleep faster than you even thought was possible. It’s like he’s been waiting for this moment for so long, and he’s ready to take full advantage. For you sleep is more elusive than that, but you're more than happy to see him so relaxed. The last couple of days have been hectic to say the least, and while you're used to that kind of constant motion you suspect that he stops and smells the roses every once and awhile. 

You think about getting up and walking around, but you don’t want to risk waking anyone up. The problem is that you feel like you're just tempting fate by allowing yourself to settle down. By allowing yourself to sleep you're ignoring the fact that the empire remnant is still looking for you, that sith seems pretty intent on killing you and you still have no way to get in contact with Luke. 

Even if you did, you didn’t know what you would say. Everything is so blurred now, you can’t even untangle what your mission is anymore. And maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, because now that you’ve settled down and thought about it you have no idea why you're even still here. You're in love with the Mandalorian, which is beyond any semblance of reason but that doesn’t make it any less true. 

As you lay there and listen to his snores, you let your mind wander and think about how you could stay like this forever. It’s a new feeling, because you’ve never wanted to stick around one place for too long, after what happened. You’ve learned it's selfish to hold onto things, that you have to allow things to change as rapidly as they wanted to. Only you don’t want this to change, you want to hold onto this moment and somehow make it last forever.

The next morning you know exactly where you need to go to find the answer Din is looking for. “We need to go to Ilum.” 

He narrows his eyes at you in the orange light of the sunrise, “That’s a wasteland, a cold barren wasteland.” 

“Now it is,” You tell him, “But what it used to be was a sacred planet to the Jedi, the kyber crystals that power lightsabers are found primarily on Ilum or at least they used to be.” 

“And you think that the empire left anything when they destroyed the place and all but took it off the map?” 

You shrug, “I don’t know, Vader was evil but he was calculating he wouldn’t do something that wasn’t in his best interest. There could still be structures there, but even if there isn’t it’s still a place deeply connected to the force.” 

“You think that’ll work?” 

“Do you have a better idea?” You shoot back. 

He presses a quick kiss to your lips and shakes his head. 

“I’m always right,” You tease him. You stand up from the bed, and then fall right back into it dramatically with your arms and legs stretched out. “Fuck, now I have to tell Kes I’m fucking leaving.” 

“I can tell you what not to do,” He smiles, “Whatever last night was.” 

You narrow your eyes, “Really because-” You realize what he’s talking about, “Oh wait you mean our conversation last night not-” He laughs and then nods. “I was in a very emotional place right now, and the only other person I’ve ever admitted to having feelings for-” You wince, “-lives here.” 

He looks at you for a long time, but says, “I figured.” 

“You figured?”

“People don’t get that angry at each other unless they’re family or-”

“Well I appreciate you not saying that at all last night, not even hinting at it,” You say, “You and this whole keeping your observations to yourself thing will not work if we’re going to be partners.”

He smiles and you almost melt, “We’re partners?”

“I mean we have kicked ass together multiple times, and looked very attractive while doing it. Us not being partners would be a crime to the entire galaxy.” 

He stands and gets out of the bed, then holds out his hand to you. “Come on, let’s do this.”

You sigh, “Seeing as I am the only one doing it I think that I shouldn’t.” 

“Fine,” He says, “I’ll do it but you have to retrieve the kid.” 

You roll out of the bed with a huff, “I’m getting up.” You pick up your clothes off the ground and pull them on, “I’m not going to touch that little fucking thing, I told you it creeps me out.” 

“It’s a baby,” He says.

“I'm not even going to respond to that.” 

You find Kes in the kitchen after Din takes the kids out into the yard. 

“I’m a runner,” It catches him off guard as he stands in the middle of the kitchen. The sun has fully risen, bathing everything in the hot yellow light. When he turns to you, the sun illuminates his face. “I run from things,” You know where you're going but it doesn’t make it any easier to say, “I run when things get hard, I go away when there are things that I don’t want to do, I turn away when there is something I can’t face.” 

He doesn’t move an inch, he just looks hurt, “I never thought that you would need to run from me.” 

“It’s not you,” You tell him. “I didn’t want to face the fact that she’s dead, I still don’t. This is her life, and being here hurts because it reminds me of how much she wanted to be here to live it, how excited she was to finally be able to raise her son and be with you. This is hard, and so I ran.” You pause, “Now is the point where I’m going to say I’m sorry.” 

A smile pulls at the edge of his lips, “You? Saying sorry? I don’t know if I believe it.” You both laugh. He leans against the counter, “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

You take a breath, and smile a little. “I think I have.”

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [12]

xii. we are grounders, pt 1

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: language, Murphy gets revenge (there are nooses involved), hanging, fighting, violence.

Summary: Murphy is on the war path, seeking revenge, and more than a few people get caught in the crossfire. 

a/n: this is going up later than I intended today, but when I went to my drafts to publish it, it was gone and I had to reupload everything all over again. but anyways, thank you to everyone who has been reading! you are all my lil la lunes, and I love seeing your comments and reblogs so much. please enjoy, PART ONE OF THE SEASON ONE FINALE! also yes, the taglist is OPEN!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

You run through the woods, leaves and branches reaching out to grab you, tearing at your skin and clothes. Up ahead you can see a head of golden hair, shining in the moonlight. You call out to her, desperate. “Clarke! Clarke, I’m right here! I’m behind you!”

She stops running and she turns, giving you a hard look. You stop dead in your tracks, forgetting the Grounders that were at your back just moments before. Clarke’s expression slowly changes, mouth now pulling into a sinister smile. Her eyes shift behind you before sliding back to yours, and she mutters. “Got ya!”

When the hand touches your shoulder, you scream.

You practically fly out of the bed, sweating, breath coming out in quick gasps. You push your hand over your fluttering heart, telling yourself that it’s not real. It’s just a dream. It takes you a few minutes to calm down, but when you do, you are reminded of where you are and the nightmarish reality that you now exist in.

You know yourself well enough to know that sleep is not returning to you, so you look around the empty tent, find your boots and pull them on. As you step out into the night air, you look for the moon, finding it low in the sky. You walk through the camp, looking for a few familiar faces, smiling when you finally find one near the outside wall. Octavia looks up as you approach, and she smiles. “Hey sleepyhead.”

“How long was I out for?”

“Only a few hours.”

You nod, “Good. I was starting to worry I lost a day.” You look around, watching as she swings a branch and tosses it onto a small structure, forming a roof. “What’s going on?”

“Bellamy’s got us working overtime to get the camp ready. Setting landmines, making foxholes.” She looks over at a guard leaned up against a tree, fighting against his closing eyelids. “He’s working us until we drop.”

“I better chip in then.” She shrugs, but you start lifting branches and adding them to her foxhole. She watches you closely, trying to get a read on you. You let out a quiet sigh and meet her eyes. “I’m okay, I promise. I just...freaked out at the idea of leaving Clarke to die. It was stupid and I put us all in danger. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” A grin splits her face, and you know she’s being genuine. You both start to work on the foxhole again when she adds, “Me, Jasper, and Raven are going back out in the morning to look for them, if you want to come.”

“Of course.”

You both exchange a smile and work in silence until Bellamy’s voice approaches from behind. “Come on. These foxholes aren't gonna build themselves.” You watch as he walks past you, heading for Raven and Jasper. “Better hope those landmines work. All the gunpowder we're wasting, we could be making more grenades.”

Raven quips over her shoulder, “You want to come over here and test one?”

“Cute.” You don’t need to be looking at him to know he’s rolling his eyes and tossing her a glare. “I need this entire section mined by morning. Then you finish the south field.”

He turns, and she jumps up from her spot. “Hey!” She closes the space between them, voice dropping. “I told you, we're going after Finn, Clarke, and Monty in the morning.”

“And I told you, nobody leaves this camp.”

You pause, watching as he turns away from her again. Raven’s voice rises. “I'm talking to you! We can't just abandon our people. You want to lead them, show them you give a damn.”

Bellamy is cut off by a gunshot from somewhere behind you. You and Octavia instinctively duck, and when you turn, you see the sleepy guard from before standing and looking around confused. Bellamy bears down on him in seconds. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

“I'm sorry, man. I fell asleep. I've been on watch all day.”

“We've all been on watch all day!” Bellamy grabs Sterling, shaking him, and you cringe, aware that you are the exception. “That bullet was one less dead Grounder.”

Beside you, Octavia glares at him. “Bell, you're scaring people.”

“They should be scared!” He shoves Sterling away, releasing him, and turns as he addresses the others. “The bomb on the bridge bought us some time to prepare, but that time is up! The Grounders are out there right now, waiting for us to leave and picking us off one by one when we do! Clarke, Finn, and Monty are gone, probably dead.” You shudder, looking over and meeting Raven’s eyes, and you know she’s fighting back grief too. Bellamy’s hysteria grows as he finishes, “If you want to be next, I can't stop you, but no guns are leaving this camp! This camp is the only thing keeping us alive! Get back to work!”

Octavia turns to you, eyes pleading, and you know what she’s asking for. “Bell?”

He turns, surprised to hear the sound of your voice, eyes meeting yours. You jump down from your spot beside Octavia, closing the space between you. You grab his arm to lightly pull him away, and he follows. You feel his eyes search your face. “How long have you been out here?”

“Not long.” When you reach his tent, you duck and pull him inside. “Bellamy, are you okay?”

You watch him tense, the muscle in his jaw clenching. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” You push him backwards, towards his bed. “You need to rest.”

He pushes back against you, “I’ll rest after-”

“No.” His brows lift, surprised at the force behind your words. “You’ll rest now, and I’ll keep an eye on things until you wake up.”

He hesitates, and you push him backwards again, urging. “It’s only for a few hours, okay? You’re no good to us exhausted.”

He sighs, dropping back onto the bed. “Only for a few hours.”

“Exactly. I’ve got it.”

He nods, and you duck out of the tent, and head back to the wall. When you get there, Octavia meets your eyes, and you nod to let her know it’s handled. She smiles in thanks. You step over to Sterling, who is now watching the perimeter, eyes wide. You put a hand on his shoulder, and he jumps. ”Sterling?”

“Yeah?”

“Go get some rest.”

He shakes his head so hard you hear his neck crack. “Bellamy said-”

“I know what Bellamy said. And I’m telling you to get some rest. I’ll finish out your shift.” 

His eyes scan your face, skeptical, searching for any signs of deceit. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You grab his gun, lifting it from his hands. “Now go.”

He stands and jogs off before you can change your mind, though you have no plan to. You settle down into the spot he just vacated, searching the woods for any signs of Grounders, or your sister.

-

The sky lightens with the early signs of dawn, and you stand from your spot just as the next guard relief arrives. You pass Harper the gun before heading over to Octavia. “I’m gonna go check on Bellamy and the rest of the camp. See if he’s in a better mood for a rescue mission. Can you hold things down out here?”

“Sure.”

You head towards the camp, stopping to grab something to drink on the way. You stand there rehydrating and checking out the camp, making sure everyone is working hard to keep the Grounders out. You turn when you hear someone exit the dropship, and you are unsurprised to come face to face with Bellamy. You can tell that the few hours of sleep did him well; the bags under his eyes aren’t nearly as deep, and some of his earlier tension is now gone. He seems annoyed as he approaches, but he tries to hide it behind a smile, which you return. “Feeling any better?”

“Yes.” He dips a cup into the water and surveys the camp at work. “Are they making any progress out there?”

“They finished most of the foxholes and mined the section you wanted. Now they’re over in the south field.”

“Good.”

You nod towards the dropship, “What were you doing in there?”

He gives a sharp shake to his head. “Nothing. Just talking to Jasper.”

As you open your mouth to answer, Murphy’s voice crackles through the radio, “No, it's not. You know what'll happen to me if you tell Bellamy.”

You and Bellamy exchange a glance and he starts to walk towards the dropship, lifting the radio to ask, “Tell Bellamy what?”

“Murphy has a gun. He killed Myles.” Jasper’s voice rushes out in a panic.

There’s a brief second where a weight hangs in your stomach, and you just know something is about to happen. You take off towards the dropship, passing Bellamy, who lifts the radio again. “Murphy, what the hell are you doing?”

Just as you reach the dropship, it starts to creak. You turn to look at Bellamy, whose face is frozen in horror. He shakes his head, calling your name before you make a split second decision and jump inside. You can hear Bellamy’s voice growing softer as the door closes, screaming your name and Murphy’s.

You take a deep breath and creep around the hanging parachute, keeping an eye out for Murphy or Jasper. As you step around the parachute and into the light, you reveal yourself to the open room, right next to Murphy. You both hesitate in surprise when you lock eyes, before jumping into action. You reach out for the gun, grabbing it and trying to wrestle it from his grasp, but he uses your momentum to swing the gun up, catching you in the chin. You feel your teeth clatter together but you push through, swinging an arm out and catching him near his eye. He grunts in pain and swings the gun again, but this time you duck and dodge it. As you come up, he lands a kick to your stomach, knocking the breath out of you and making contact with your old knife wound from Lincoln.

You feel the wound stretch and you wince, hoping the last healing parts are not reopened. As you try to stand and get back to Murphy, he closes the space between you and swings the butt of the gun, making contact with your skull. Pain explodes and spreads throughout your head, and stars swim in your vision. As the world goes dark, you watch Murphy lift the radio and mutter, “You try to be a hero, they die.”

-

Your senses come back to you slowly. 

The pain in your head is the first to arrive, and you try to lift a hand to press against it, only to find both of your hands tied securely behind your back. A pole digs into your spine, and something presses against your tongue, gagging you. You open your eyes, blinking against the pain, and you hear a muffled sound beside you. You make eye contact with Jasper, and relief flashes across his face. You give him a weak smile, assuring him you’re okay. 

Outside, you can hear Octavia yelling, “Murphy! Murphy, if you even touch them, I swear to God, you're dead.”

Murphy scoffs from somewhere in front of you, and you force yourself to lift your head and look at him. He gives you a sinister smile as he quips, “Well, well, well, look who’s awake.”

You yell against your gag and fight against your restraints, trying to tell him every terrible thing you want to do to him, but the only sound that comes out is muffled yelling. His smirk only grows, “They’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now…”

He lifts his hand, shaking the radio, and on cue, Bellamy’s voice enters the room. “Come on, Murphy. You don't want to hurt them. You want to hurt me. So what do you say? How about you trade them for me?”

“No.” You yell against the muffle, hoping Bellamy is catching what you’re saying. Not you for me. 

Bellamy’s voice is almost pleading when he asks again. “All you have to do is let them go, and I'll take their place.”

Beside you, Jasper shakes with a quiet sob, and Murphy turns his smirk on him. “How?”

“Simple. You open the door, I walk in, they walk out.”

Murphy pauses for a second, thinking, before he stalks towards Jasper. Jasper shrinks away from him, but Murphy pulls him to his feet, muttering, “Just you.” Murphy drags him to the door and you hear it creak open, but you can’t see it from where you’re tied up. He yells, “Just you, Bellamy! Unarmed. Ten seconds, or I'll put one in Jasper's leg. One…”

You sit with baited breath, hoping Bellamy changed his mind. But as soon as Murphy gets halfway through his countdown, Bellamy announces his arrival. “I'm here.”

You hear feet ascend the ramp, and the parachute being pulled to the side. A second later you hear feet stumble down, and a quiet thud before the dropship door rises again. You wiggle against your restraints, as a soft voice whispers your name. You yell against the gag, before a pair of feet run towards you and kneel into your view moments later. Concern is written across his face, and he reaches up to brush the bruise that is already forming on your chin. His eyes flash with anger, and he lifts his eyes to Murphy behind you. “You said them for me!”

“Yeah, well, I lied.” Murphy kicks at your feet and you struggle to reach him, as Bellamy starts to leap towards him. Murphy lifts his gun and you and Bellamy freeze in place. “Besides, what’s the King without the Queen?”

“Murphy, just let her go. She has nothing to do with this, it’s between you and me.”

He lifts the gun higher, and takes a step back. “Shut up and grab those seatbelts over there. Tie two nooses.”

You feel your blood run cold, and your stomach sinks. Bellamy’s eyes shift to you, and you can feel the tension radiating off him. “Murphy, just listen to me-”

A shot rings through the air, cutting him off. “I said shut up!” He swings the gun towards you, aiming at your head. “Start tying.”

Bellamy lifts his hands in surrender, slowly, and then reaches for the seatbelts. As he ties, Murphy nods. “That's good. Do what I said.”

Octavia’s voice crackles through the radio, “Bellamy? Bellamy! Are you guys okay?”

Murphy lifts the radio and nods towards the belts, urging Bellamy to tie. He complies, and Murphy presses the button, allowing Bellamy to speak. “I'm fine. Just a misfire. Now stop worrying about me and get back to work, all of you...And tell Raven to hurry her ass up.”

Your brows furrow at the mention of Raven, and your eyes shift over to Bellamy. He meets yours for a fraction of a second, but you don’t miss the nearly imperceptible nod at the question in your eyes. You feel relief for half of a second before Murphy gestures to the metal that criss crosses the ceiling. “All right. Now get up and toss them over, facing each other.”

Bellamy tosses one, then the next, before turning to face Murphy. “What do you want me to say? You want me to apologize? I'm...I'm sorry.”

“You got it all wrong, Bellamy. I don't want you to say anything. I want you to feel what I felt, and then I want you to watch her die. And then...then I want you to die.” Murphy drags over a stool, and gestures to the noose. “Stand on it. Put it over your head.”

You fight against the restraints, yelling and screaming as Bellamy yells, “This is insane. The Grounders could…”

Bellamy trails off when Murphy swings the gun towards you, and you grow still. He steps onto the stool and stares at the noose, before looking at you. You shake your head, hard, tears starting to fall. I don’t want him to die, I don’t want to watch him die. Let me take his place. 

Murphy presses the gun to your temple. “Put it over your head.”

Bellamy complies, and Murphy pulls out a knife and presses it to your throat. You calm any struggle in your body, pulling away from the blade. Bellamy watches as Murphy pulls off your gag and frees your wrists before dragging you to your feet, and shoving you over to the other noose. You stumble and pause beneath it, glancing at Murphy, who points the gun at Bellamy. You scramble onto the stool and pull the noose over your head and around your neck. 

Bellamy pulls Murphy’s attention away from you, and back to him. “Happy now?”

“You're so brave, aren't you?” He grabs the lead to Bellamy’s noose, and tugs lightly. “I mean, you came in here thinking you're just gonna turn this whole thing around, that you were stronger than me, and maybe one of your friends would come and help you. Well, what are you thinking now, Bellamy? Hmm?”

The two boys glare at each other before Murphy yanks the lead harder, and Bellamy struggles to put his fingers between the noose and his neck. You can hear him choking a little and you start to struggle. Murphy turns to smirk at you, and he yanks hard on Bellamy’s lead, choking him harder, as he scolds you. “Quiet.”

You watch Bellamy’s feet teeter on his stool as Murphy scoffs. “You know, I’ve got to hand it to you, Bellamy. You got 'em all fooled. They actually look up to you, almost as much as they look up to the twins. Yeah, well, we know the truth, don't we? You're a coward. I learned that the day you kicked out the crate from beneath me.”

“I should have stopped them.”

Murphy lets out a bitter laugh, “Yeah, it's a little late for that now.”

“You think they're just gonna let you walk out of here?”

“Well, I think the princess is dead…” He trails off and turns to you, smiling. “And the Queen is soon to follow. And I know the King's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh? Me, that's who, and, yeah, maybe I'll have to kill your Grounder pounding little sister…”

Bellamy struggles against the restraints and Murphy pulls the lead so hard that Bellamy’s feet lift off the stool. You panic and scream out, “Stop! Stop you stupid asshole!”

He lets Bellamy drop and he turns to you. Bellamy struggles to catch his breath and he whispers your name as a warning, but you let your anger carry you, and hope it’ll be enough to distract Murphy and keep Bellamy safe. “Bellamy, I told you that you should have taken care of Murphy because he was gonna get tired of taking orders!” You glare down at Murphy as he approaches your lead and you ignore your fear. “Because cockroaches don’t ever stop being cockroaches. And Murphy will never be more than scum of the earth!”

He yanks your lead and you feel your body rise and your hands lift to your neck to pull the noose off your airway as your feet scramble to find purchase on the stool beneath you. You faintly register the sound of Bellamy yelling, but your body ignores everything other than the strangled pull of breath in and out of your body. Murphy drops your lead and you struggle for breath, locking eyes with Bellamy as you hear a scream in shock down below, and Murphy smiles. “That must be your sister right now.”

He fires blindly into the ground, and Bellamy screams in anger before locking eyes with you again. You see something you can’t name flash over his face and he starts to open his mouth, but you know you have to beat him to it. “Bellamy, I’m sorry I got you into this and I’m sorry that the curse reached you too.”

He looks confused, but you hope it’s enough for him when you’re gone, because you see a look flash across Murphy's face, and you know the end is near. He stalks over to you and kicks your stool from beneath you, and you feel the air leave your body in a rush. Your hands lift to your neck again as you struggle to pull the noose free, and Bellamy’s screams of anger tear through the dropship. Murphy smirks at you and stalks closer, “Using your hands is a cheat. Mine were bound, remember?”

He reaches out to push your hands away and you kick blindly, feeling your foot make contact with something as he groans in pain. You are given only a second of reprieve before your arms are yanked harshly behind you and snapped together with the belts before you can fight him off again. You hear Bellamy’s rage grow more desperate and you think you register the faint sound of another stool hitting the ground. But all you can think about is your father, your mother, and your sister. The Griffin Family back together again. Stars dance at your vision, swimming all around you, and you think of Orion and how Artemis put him in the sky forever. You smile as you plunge through the stars and into the darkness. 

-

The world comes back to you with the long pull of oxygen that enters your lungs.

The dropship, your hands at your back, the limp lead of the noose beside you, and a freckled face boy yelling your name in relief. He pulls you to his chest as an explosion rocks the dropship, and he pulls away to whisper. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Another dark haired angel pulls you into their arms, and you squeeze an arm around her limply, letting your strength return to you bit by bit. You finally pull away and sit up, and Octavia’s face is split into a huge grin. You smile back, and she pulls you into another hug, which you return. She pulls back when the radio on her belt starts to speak. “All gunners! We got movement outside the south wall!”

You both stand as Bellamy runs past you with Jasper. You and Octavia follow, feet hitting the ground when Miller yells, “Wait! Hold your fire! Clarke and Finn! Open the gate!”

“Clarke?” The gate slides open and she runs in, her eyes scanning everyone until they find you. You take off running towards her, colliding in a hug as tears fall down your face. “I thought you were dead. I thought I was alone!”

She pulls away, shaking her head, tears streaming down her face too. “You’re never alone.”

You smile and she smiles back, but the look drops as her eyes find your neck. She reaches up to touch it as Finn asks, “We heard an explosion. What happened?”

“Murphy happened.”

You can tell Clarke wants to say something, but Finn cuts in. “Clarke, we need to leave, now. All of us do. There's an army of Grounders, unlike anything we've ever seen, coming for us right now. We need to pack what we can and run.”

Your eyes jump from Finn to Clarke, and she nods in confirmation that he’s telling the truth. You feel fear creep into your body at the thought of more death. 

“Like hell we do. We knew this was coming.”

“Bell, we're not prepared.”

“And they're not here yet. We still have time to get ready. Besides, where would we go? Where would we be safer than behind these walls? This is our home now. We built this from nothing with our bare hands! Our dead are buried behind that wall in this ground! Our ground! The Grounders think they can take that away. They think that because we came from the sky, we don't belong here. But they're yet to realize one very important fact: We are on the ground now, and that means we are Grounders!”

All around you, the teenagers yell in agreement, but Clarke steps away from you, shaking her head. “Bellamy's right. If we leave, we may never find a place as safe as this. And God knows, in this world, we could be faced with something even worse tomorrow. But that doesn't change the simple fact that if we stay here, we will die tonight. So pack your things. Just take what you can carry, now.”

You open your mouth to protest, but she gives you a look that tells you not to argue. She glances at your neck again, and asks, “Where is he?”

“Gone.”

She starts to reply, but her gaze lifts over your head to something behind you, her brows furrowing. You hear a cry of pain follow. “Help me!”

You turn and see Raven limping towards you, and you all jump into action. Finn reaches her first and scoops her off her feet, taking her into the dropship. Jasper confirms the question Clarke is about to ask with a whisper. “Murphy shot her.”

Clarke nods and follows Finn into the dropship. You and Bellamy stand outside for a moment, in silence. You turn to him and smirk, “Ten minutes ago Murphy had us hanging up like smoked meats. Now we’re running from Grounders.” He turns to you and you can tell from the glare on his face that he doesn’t think your joke is funny, but it drops when he sees your neck. You reach up to touch it. “That bad, huh? Stopped you and Clarke dead in your tracks.”

His jaw clenches and his voice is seething with quiet fury. “If I ever see him again, I’ll kill him.”

“Not if I kill him first.”

-

To be continued...

-

next chapter

[official-archivist-keith]

Keith sat down with the paper and the statement before turning on the tape recorder. He took a breath, he was starving... hopefully this would help.

"Statement of Sunil Maraj regarding their work as a security guard and the disappearance of their co-worker, Samson Stiller. Original statement given 3rd April, 2011. Audio recording by Keith Kogane, the Archivist.

Statement begins."

"So I lost my job last week. I mean, I quit, they didn’t fire me or nothing. But you know how like sometimes you quit because you want to, and sometimes you quit because you’ve got to? Well, this was the second, although I’m not gonna pretend I’m not glad to see the back of the place.

It’s ‘cause I kept asking about Samson, you know? And what I saw. And they really, really don’t want me to make a stink about that. Because if he just disappeared one day, didn’t come into work, that’s fine - I mean, not fine for his family, obviously, or the police who have to find him, but fine for the company. If he disappeared at work, though - if what I think happened is even close to what actually happened - then that’s real bad news for them, and opens them up to all sorts of lawsuits and liability.

I mean, it’s fine, I can get other jobs, and it’s not like I really want to be working there after what happened, but I just wish someone would take it seriously. It’s messed up, and I’m having a real hard time getting out of my head.

So, I work security right? Used to be, a company or shop would have its own little security force they put together, did all the in-store and CCTV vigilance stuff. These days, it’s all centralized, though. You tend to have a building or a shopping central contract all the security work out to a single company, who’ll then cover all the businesses or shops. It’s easier, from a centralizing point of view, and cheaper, if that’s what the owners like.

But it does mean that there tends to be a lot less stability and how it’s all structured, personnel-wise, at least. If you’re lucky, you’ll be assigned to a post and stay there for years, getting to know the place, the systems, your co-workers. If you’re unlucky, or there’s contract difficulties, you could easily end up moving through two or three different places in as many months.

That was kind of the case for me and Samson. We were the odd men out in a lot of ways. We’d originally been brought in for a big corporate office block near Liverpool Street, but there’d been some problem and the whole place had to be closed up for months. Samson said they found asbestos, I heard it was a lease issue, but it doesn’t really matter. Point is, they hired us for a job that no longer existed.

I expected they’d just get rid of us, but I mean to their credit, they did try to do right. They did their best to fit us in with other security teams: I mean, over the last two years we did a couple of data centers, a digital marketing hub - whatever that is - three different office buildings near Kings Cross… trouble was, every time, almost as soon as we got there, there’d be some personnel changes, or expiring contracts, or some other trouble, and generally, as the last in the door, we were the first to get reassigned. Started to feel a bit like we were cursed, you know?

Samson took it harder than I did. I mean, I’m young, my mum’s got a flat in Hackney, and to be honest, most of my evenings are out with friends or in with black ops, so the moving around was pretty much fine with me. Sam had a three-year-old, though, and lived way down in Morden, so being thrown from one post to another all the time was really kind of getting to him. He tried to talk to me about it a few times, but honestly, we weren’t that close. Or rather, we were close because we’d always worked together, but we didn’t have a huge amount in common. I mean, I tried to talk to him about football for a while, but I think he could tell I was talking out of my ass. Anyway, point is, when we were reassigned to a shopping centre in Stratford, he wasn’t in a great place.

Now, I’m not sure I can legally name the shopping center I was working in to you guys, but let’s just say it wasn’t the Westfield. It was old, clearly been around decades, and the security systems really showed it. I mean, one of the shops still had the original alarms from the late 70s, and plenty of them still had cameras that recorded to VHS, for God’s sake.

The security office was a mess. The company I worked for - again, dunno if I can legally say them, but you can look it up, you know - they have a package where they replace all your equipment and systems with the stuff we use. It’s not cheap, but it’s worth it, if only because we all know exactly how to use that stuff.

Whoever was running this shopping center had very much not opted for that particular contract. I mean, the teams before us had made a valiant effort to centralize and integrate all the feeds and setups into just the one control room, but… damn, that place was a mess. Flat screens, next to banks of old CRT monitors that some of the cameras had to feed into, next to racks of channel banks, and a few actual, honest-to-god computers, that tried their best to wrestle everything into something that was almost usable.

I found it properly overwhelming, didn’t like the place at all. But Sam actually seemed to get on with it pretty well almost from the get-go. He’d apparently been an engineer back in the day, and something about all those old surveillance systems, all tied together, all wrapping into and around each other like some weird nest of cameras… it seemed to really appeal to him. The first week he was there he spent almost the entire time playing with the system and the wiring… left me to do most of the other work on my own. Well, I mean… there were the other guys working there, of course, but even the ones who’d been there awhile started to get the picture and gave Samson a bit of a wide berth after a few days.

He really did seem to get the place in a bit better order. I mean, some of it, only he really understood, but soon enough it actually made sense - what we were watching and when - and he managed to get rid of some of the delay, so that we even managed to catch a couple of shoplifters.

There was only one piece of equipment that seemed to give him any trouble. It was this old Tecton multicamera recorder from the late 80s, managed the feeds for one of the various budget shoe shops that lined the promenade.

It didn’t seem all that complicated when you just looked at it, but trying to use it was an absolute nightmare. None the buttons seemed to do exactly what you wanted them to do, and there were all sorts of sequences where pressing a button, holding a button, pressing it three times, all that - they’d all do really different things.

Sam spent almost a whole month wrestling with it, before he finally cracked and he asked Dave - the bearded old guy who we all sort of assumed had been there the longest? - whether they still had any of the old operating manuals.

I remember the smell of dust when Dave went and cracked open the filing cabinet in the back room, before waving his arms in the direction of the drawer and shrugging. I mean, I’d have just left it, obviously, but I think Samson was taking the whole knowing how the system works thing as like - a point of pride? Something he could salvage from the whole situation. Just a way of getting some control over his life, you know?

So he found the manual. More of a pamphlet, really. Can’t have been more than ten pages of A5 in the whole thing, yellowed and water-damaged. Well-used, though. Someone had even put their name in the front, like they were afraid people were gonna steal a manky instruction book.

Still, Sam just couldn’t put it down. I mean, it was like 10 in the morning when we finally found it, and when I went in at 2:00 to see if he’d taken his lunch break yet, he was still sat there, just staring at it. I mean, I’m not a fast reader, or anything but that’s a lot, right?

And like - okay, so this is the part that you’re definitely gonna think I’m having a joke with you, but I’m honestly not, I’m dead serious. Because I saw some of the pages over his shoulder, and on one of them there was, there was a picture of me.

Like, a black-and-white photo of my face. I didn’t get a good look, but it certainly wasn’t one that I remember having taken. Not that would make it any less weird for it to be printed in an old CCTV manual from back when I was doing nappies. And I’m not making it up, I swear.

Then Samson turned, and he looked at me, and I don’t know, I got real spooked. His eyes were all - messed up. Like, weird. And glassy. It was really, really freaky, and I just turned and I got out of there. That wasn’t the end of it, though. If it had been then sure, maybe I write it off as a weird dream, where I was tired or whatever, but no. Because from that point, on Samson just gets creepier.

For a start, he’s always at work. I mean, we’re not always on the same shift, so it takes me a while to notice, but when I ask him about it, he just says that our schedules must have synced up weird. But whenever I arrived, there he was, staring at the monitors, watching all the people come and go, his eyes wide like he was drinking it all in. And whenever I was there late, and it was my turn to close up, he’d always say that he was happy to do it, say I could head off a few minutes early.

So, I never actually saw him leave. I tried to stay once, said I needed to do it myself, but he just got real quiet, like… real quiet, and stared at me.

The bank of monitors was behind him, and I’m just trying to come up with something to say, get him to talk to me… and one by one, they began to just wink off, turning dark.

And I got this feeling, deep in my gut, that if that last monitor turned off, then something really bad was gonna happen to me. It was one of the old CRT sets, big, and bulky, and the picture on it was never that clear, but for a moment it looked like it was me on there. Staring right back at myself as the screens slowly went black, getting closer and closer. The face on the monitor looked absolutely terrified, and I was starting to feel it myself.

So I just tried to smile, told him not to worry about it, and I headed out as quick as I could. My legs were shaking so hard I almost fell on the way out.

Then there were the actual cameras. I mean, you work in a shopping center, obviously you do a bunch of shopping there. I used to get my lunch, for one, and usually pick up any of the essentials I needed. Sometimes, if I was feeling hard done by and it was payday, I might buy myself a new shirt, or a game, or something.

And obviously, because I work security, I know where all the cameras are. where they cover, even how they move. A lot of them are completely static, just pointing at one place. But gradually, I start to notice something when I’m shopping. It’s like a tickling, creeping sensation all over the back of my neck. Like I’m being watched.

So I start to keep an eye on the cameras when I’m in the shops, and you know what, I’m right. They’re following me. Whenever I look at them - doesn’t matter where it was they were meant to be aimed - they’re always focused right on me.

I keep staring at them, moving around, and they just shift to keep the lens pointed at me. But they’re not articulated, they don’t have any motor or swivel mount they just… move. Pointed right at me.

One time, when no one in the store was looking, I threw a can of deodorant at one of them. Hit it square on. Samson wore sunglasses for the next two days, and when I caught a glimpse of him without them, there was a crack right down the center of his eye.

I tried to talk to the others. I’m pretty sure that they were getting similar weirdness from them. they were all jumpy and nervous those last few months. But I was known as Sam’s friend. We’d come in together and everyone just assumed we were close. When I started to ask about it, about what was going on, they just clammed up like I was trying to get them in trouble. My nerves were all shot to hell.

I wasn’t in work the week he disappeared. I’d called in with a bullshit stomach thing. I just needed a break, some time to get my head right. It was almost working, you know? A little distance, a little space to relax. I was starting to feel good.

Then I got the call from Dave. He was frantic.

I couldn’t make out half of what he was saying over the bad line, but he kept saying Samson’s name. Asking me if I “knew,” if he’d “told me.”

I had no idea what he was talking about, but he kept screaming at me. He kept saying, I must know, he must have told me what was going on. He kept saying, “what do we do with his eyes?”

I mean, I didn’t know what the hell to say, I just went quiet listening to Dave as he started sobbing down the phone

“He won’t stop,” he said. “We can’t get rid of his face.”

I hung up. And Dave was gone when I went back in. A bunch of them were, all quit suddenly. I wanted to check in with them, find out what happened, but we’d never really been friends, and I didn’t know any of their details.

I never saw Samson again, either. Though, I did find his old work shirt in the back. It was torn to shreds, wrapped around that old instruction manual. I put it back in the filing cabinet, and I threw the shirt away.

I tried to stick around, to do my job, but I was asking too many questions for the folks upstairs, I think. I wanted to know why Samson hadn’t signed out of the building before he disappeared. Why, no matter who tried to reset the system, it always logged back in as him.

Why, whenever I was watching the monitors alone, I’d see him on that old CRT screen. Staring right back at me. Quietly calling for me to join him."

"Statement ends." Keith let out an exhale, "Much better..."

@zombieapocalypsekeith

[imaginetheending]

Vacant Chapter 1 Preview

Here is a preview of Vacant chapter 1. To read the rest go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son

Chapter 1

It's hot outside.

Blood and dead bodies occupy the only decent shade. A trail of blood leads to the forest. It's created by Scouts dragging soldiers away by the straps of their boots. Grains of sand are crushed under Rapture's feet as they shift in the sand. He's been acting off since that morning, thinking of something else.

"Where did the furniture come from?" I ask.

In front of us, under the second floor of a three hundred year old building, sits worn down, used dressers, cabinets, and beds against broken and crumbled down walls.

"Probably from one of the traders" he responds.

One of the traders…

I'm impressed. All I own is a rusty mattress and a romance novel I kept when I was captured. These people managed to sneak in an entire dining room set with a working kitchen and chairs. Whoever did this has to work for Imports.

"I want you to come with me," Rapture says suddenly, dragging his fingers over the sides of his mouth.

Rapture is quite scary when you first meet him. His head is shaped like a human skull with hard features extruding from the back. His eyeballs are black just like mine, but he has golden lizard-like irises. After you get to know him, tough, he has a charm. A very sarcastic charm.

Without another word, he starts walking off. Adjusting my gun, I follow him. Angel does, too. The gear makes it hard to tell the difference between us. The only way to identify a Scout is by our bodies. Each species has a different body structure. Especially the legs. Since Angel is the same species as me, we have very similar forms. We both have thick female legs with no feet and big Canals. Compared to humans, our torsos are quite masculine.

Apparently, my big identifier is hips. I have thick thighs. It's true. I can crush a man's head between them, but the observation still feels somewhat perverse. Soldiers make similar comments towards Angel.

Lieutenant Bade, Angel, and I are Rapture's bodyguards. We follow the General around while he does his duties. It's not the most exciting job in the world, but Rapture is the best swordsman on the planet. No one messes with him. It is a safe, cushion position compared to the conditions other soldiers lived in.

"Angel, could you leave us? I want to talk to Siren alone," Rapture says.

We both look at each other. Angel steps back, not sure what to do. It takes a second for him to join the other Scouts.

I follow Rapture into the forest. After a while, it becomes grey. The pale, thin trees cover the bright sky. We walk for hours back to a part of camp I have never seen before. This is dangerous, I thought, for the two of us to be out here alone. However, whatever part of the forest this is, no one visited.

In the distance I see a small wooden cabin between an assortment of tree trunks. It has to belong to a General. No one else is allowed housing. The lights are off for the dusty building, though. We keep walking for another ten minutes, and arrive at an even bigger house -- a small, one bedroom home. Just like the rest of the planet, the exterior looks like old, American human architecture. On RubenDies, you can probably find a house like this for super cheap in a bad part of town, but here -- well, I have never seen anything like it.

Rapture grabs the door handle and yanks it open. The door stutters releasing dust and plant pores into the air. I am careful to breathe it in. He enters.

Dark inside, I can barely see the living room from the front door. Cautiously, I step inside. A thick smell overwhelms me. It's not a bad smell, but it's potent. Like someone lived here for a long time.

Both the living room and kitchen are small. Sun seeps through the closed blinds onto a rusty, old pale, orange refrigerator. The cabinets are dirty -- crusted. A small wooden dining table sits in front of it. There are more than one chair. Multiple people live here. Lived here -- I should say.

"Where are we?" I ask.

Rapture doesn't respond. He just walks between the dining room and living room towards a bedroom in the back. It's the only thing that lit up the hallway. My footsteps are unbelievably heavy on the wooden floors. I don't think Scouts are intended to be in here. The bedroom itself feels frozen in time. Nothing has been touched in years. There are still dirty clothes laying on a white bed sitting in the center of the room. Dust has collected on all of the wooden furniture. There's a couple nightstands and a dresser.

I'm scared to touch anything.

This doesn't bother Rapture at all. He grabs one of the drawers and opens it. After rummaging around, Rapture pulls out a stack of thick, white, plastic paper. He gives them to me, and I realize they're photos. Very small, rectangle photos. Each one is stained with dirt and muck. It's hard to tell what they consist of. The helmet makes it even harder. Rapture talks to me as I look through them, my eyes trying to make out vague shapes and sizes.

Each one shows a very attractive, young man that's the same species as me.

Most of the species outside of the Milky Way don't have names. We found no reason. It wasn't until the Human Reformation that it changed. Humans got confused by our lack of categorization, and decided to introduce a naming system. So, for clarity sake, I'll call our species BSBE.

The young man sits on a hotel bed, arched forward. A gaudy, geometric tattoo covers his sickly, gray, toned back. There are dog tags hanging from his neck. In each photo he is wearing different tank tops. In this one, it's white.

"Zerethus had a son. He escaped ten years ago," Rapture explains.

Oh, I see. I know who Zerethus's son is. Who didn't? The female camp whispered daily about him after his escape. By the time I made it to the male camp, the rumors had died down, however. All I know is that Cain isn't liked very much, and that he is permanent with most of the female camp.

In the second photo, he sits in a swimming pool, shirtless. It's at a wealthy establishment. The orange walls of the fancy hotel reflect off the blue, crystal water. It gave some color to Cain's dull skin.

"Zerethus has been looking for him ever since," Raptures continues as I shift to the next photo.

Cain is smoking a cigarette. He is maybe twelve or thirteen years old. A train of smoke trails to the sky. His expression is calm. Happy.

"I want you to find him before Zerethus does," he says.

My hand freezes. I heard his words clearly, but stammer.

"You want me to find Cain," I ask confused.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

When the soldiers brought me to Edeon, they asked me for my gender. Stupidly, I said female, and was thrown into the female camp. From that day on, my life was shit until I got kicked out. Edeon doesn't like women. They never did, and my presence in female housing left a mark. Everyone knows I lived there. Everyone remembers.

I want to object. Ask him questions.

"No, sir," I respond instead, cowardly.

I would send anyone on this mission but me. The Generals are some of the best fighters in the galaxy. They're trained to search and find targets. As a Scout, I am also trained to do this as well, but I am nowhere near as talented. Finding Cain would be a high profile mission. Only the best of the best would be put on it. I am not the best.

Send Dante. Or Felix. Or Moon. Angel. Reaper. Hades. Pain. Cerberus. Vnux. Serpen. Dalen. Gabriel. Michael. Archer. Rion. Tarli Nobi. Th'Aman. Brani. Xani. Kreniea. A'Zule. Feri/ Q'Urlid. Achan. Meni.

Literally anyone but me.

"Who is my lieutenant?" I ask.

Every soldier gets a lieutenant when sent off the planet. They watch over the group. Make sure everything goes according to plan. If he picked anyone to go with me, he would pick Bade. Bade is pretty good. He'd make up for my lack of skill.

"You are," he obviously lies.

My mouth falls open, "What?"

No, I wasn't. This is the biggest bullshit I have ever heard. First of all, there hasn't been a new lieutenant in over ten years. Second, the only women of power on Edeon are Lieutenant Reaper and General Mourning. No one even knows how they got promoted. Third, if I was promoted, I would be promoted by Zerethus himself. So, something is very fishy.

Rapture cups his hands, and smiles.

"The mission is simple. Give Cain a message. The Devil is looking for his son. He wants to cut off his wings. He'll know what that means."

"Where is he?" I ask.

I remember that I still have the photos dangling in my hands. While he continues, I look at the next one. Now, Cain has his arm draped over Angel's opal, white shoulders. Huh. That's weird. In our species' culture we don't touch each other, but they seem chummy. Either Cain is straight as fuck or they were in a relationship. Bold for him to have this photo as a part of his collection. All homosexuals get killed on this planet. There isn't a warning. It happens suddenly, and mercilessly.

"The Luminary. He works for an agency called The Eye. Goes by Hayze Redborn. Was put on a mission recently to find an Alex Hall. Code name Aex. He's a super hacker."

Cain is butt naked in the next photo. It's in the same room as we are standing in now. He's maybe eighteen. Every detail of his muscles subtly defined, his body is gorgeous. Due to the pose, and moody lighting, this is definitely a selfie. Luckily, the photo cuts off at his penis, but you can still see the top of the shaft. I laugh. Why would you take a photo like this on Edeon? We don't have Be-book. There are no dating profiles or blog posts.

"If you catch Aex, Hayze may follow," Rapture says.

The last photo is the worst. It's just his dick.

This guy took a dick pic.

I roll my eyes. How many women did he try to show this to? Knowing his reputation, he probably sent this to multiple. It's girthy. Long. Blood rushes under his skin creating purple. His skin is smooth. There are only a few faint veins. The top is round and soft. There is no color difference between the tip of his penis and the base, outside of some discoloration. He has a pretty penis. I have to give him that.

"Siren," Rapture scolds venomously and grabs the photo from my hand. He rips it in pieces and then slams it into the dresser.

Oh, shit.

I don't think he knew that was in there.

My hand hangs loosely from where the photo once was. Scared, eyes fixating on him, he's mad. After a moment, he brings his hand to his face and makes a loud sigh. He takes out another sheet of paper from his pocket. This one looked like it was printed off an old printer. It's very faded. It is a much more recent picture of Cain. Cain is much older, and worn down. In the old photos, he is vibrant and active. Here he is dead inside.

His skin is a very healthy baby blue. The black that consumed his eyeballs is clear, and not glossy. A couple other things are off about his appearance, but otherwise Hayze and Cain are identical. Over his shoulders he wore a deep, aqua blue coat. It had a very nice, faintly, shiny, textured material. Under it, he wore a black shirt similar to the ones he wore when he was younger. His dog tags could be seen through his fabric.

Behind him, a short, gray-ish brown overweight being stands at a podium wearing a nice, trim suit. His species is a cousin of Rapture's. They look very similar, but this species has more than two eyes. The overweight being has the appearance of a government official. A banner hangs behind him. It's a symbol I feel like I should recognize.

"What happens after I tell him the message?" I ask.

"Protect Cain with your life," he remarks. To continue reading go to: https://www.wattpad.com/story/254655449-vacant-the-devil%27s-son