#wk echoes au

[pimosworld]

Moon shine

TLOU x Triple Frontier crossover AU

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Summary- You were a bartender at Joel's place and everyone knew you were his but when you meet Francisco Morales you wonder if there's room in your life for one more.

Rating- 18+,MDNI

Content warnings -Alcohol consumption,eventual mmf dynamics, smut,angst,fluff,violence,any further warnings will be added to individual chapters.

WK-4K

Chapter summary- We introduce Joel and Moonshines first meeting

A/N- See series Masterlist for full story notes. I love a flashback and this is basically a full chapter of that so enjoy.

[Series Masterlist] [Main Masterlist]

Chapter II Under the table

Joel always managed to wake up before you, despite the many times you tried to surprise him and have his coffee ready. He always laughed when you’d come sauntering in the kitchen with a scowl on your face because he was somehow dressed and ready for the day before the sun could peek through the windows. 

  Sorry shine, old habits die hard. 

  It’s so foreign when you awake this morning to a hard body weighing you down, you open your eyes and just faintly make out the top of his graying soft curls on your stomach. His arms outstretched across you showing off the wide expanse of his back. You languidly trace the scars you’ve grown to love, he’s told you about most of them. You never pry further for explanation of the bad ones. His time before meeting you was laced with so much pain and anguish. 

  He’d talked for weeks about how much he couldn’t wait for the extension of his Miller family to show up with their friends. Possibly a combination of them finally arriving or the fact that it seemed they would all fit seamlessly into your lives. You wondered if his offer the night before was lust filled ramblings or a real proposition why don’t you get to know Francisco. Joel was never one to beat around the bush or not say what he was truly thinking. You couldn’t hide your attraction, he knew you too well and that was your one rule. Don’t ever lie to me. It held so much weight in desperate times. 

  You do your best to slide out of bed without disturbing him, he rustles a little reaching for you even in sleep, a deep bond formed over times of survival. You find the first things you see strewn about the floor are your clothes from the previous night. His flannel is a warm contrast on your skin to the cold floor on your bare feet. You pad into the kitchen only bothering to button the middle two, leaving you slightly exposed. 

  You know it doesn’t take much effort to prepare his straight forward black coffee but something about going through the motions in the stillness of the morning is so comforting. You can see why he clings to the ritual. It’s quite possibly one of the only things about his life that didn’t change. 

  ****

  You often think about the day you came barreling into his life, you made your way to the Boston QZ after the disaster in Hartford. You and your older sister Liv had been on your own since the outbreak, doing whatever it took to survive. She taught you as much as she could with her being only 17 and you 15. You spent 8 years in Hartford until the military pulled out. She knew after that day it wouldn’t be safe for you two. 

  10 years ago

  Your feet pound against the pavement as you fight the urge to turn around and see if you’re still being chased. The echo of footsteps and shadows along brick walls at every corner. The hot burn in your lungs is hard to ignore but you know you have to push through. The thought of being caught and the unknown consequences pushing you through the pain in the soles of your feet. 

  You knew it was risky being out past curfew but you were so desperate to find your sister. It’s been days since you’ve arrived here and still no sign of her. 

  You think you may have lost them but you want to be sure as you round another corner, looking over your shoulder instead of ahead at the dead end alley. 

  Fuck

  The crunching of leather boots on concrete drawing nearer to you as your heart hammers in your ears. You’re searching the surroundings for anything, a weapon, a fire escape, anything to help get you out of your current predicament. It’s wall to wall brick on either side and a bunch of wooden crates. You see a dumpster further down the alley and crouch behind it, discarding your hoodie and glasses. 

  A door in front of you flings open and a box of empty bottles is tossed on the ground causing you to yelp in surprise. You’re  met with the sight of an older man, broad shoulders and a grim look that would have anyone else running in the opposite direction. He stands in the light of the doorway taking in your appearance as you still try and catch your breath. 

  He’s looking you over, deciding your fate which he knows he has mere me seconds before whoever is chasing you is coming around that corner and he has to deal with it or let them have you. You look too young to be out past curfew but too old to have parents worried about you. 

  It feels like an eternity as you wait for this man to make a move, he looks like he’s battling with himself about what to do with you. Maybe you should be scared of him but something tells you to trust him-he has kind eyes. 

  “God damn it, get inside and make it quick.” He stands out of the way as you barrel towards the door , staying crouched just in case. 

  He closes the door behind you with a thud as you stand in the unfamiliar hallway. He brushes past you not bothering to beckon you along so you decide to follow, far enough behind to give him space but close enough to not lose him. The floor is lined with red carpet and the end of the hallway on an opaque door reads office. 

  He doesn’t lead you there like you expected as he turns the corner into a dimly lit bar. The back wall is lined with liquor with a cracked mirror underneath. This place looked somehow untouched from the chaos outside, you were thrust into a time you never knew but somehow ended up in an environment you knew all too well. 

  He takes a seat at a stool facing the bar where a singular glass of amber liquid is placed on the counter. It seems you’re alone but he’s made no move to harm you or help you beyond letting you inside. 

  “Who’s chasin’ you?” He takes a sip of the drink and fails to hide the wince in his eyes.

  “I don’t know.” 

  “Don’t lie to me or I’ll let you back out there.” He still hasn’t looked at you directly but you can see him in the reflection of the cracked mirror watching you. 

  “ It might be FEDRA and it might be someone else. I heard someone yell stop and I took off running.” 

  Bang!Bang!Bang! Three heavy wraps on the front door have both your heads turning. 

  “Get behind the bar and grab a rag.” He stands from his stool as the banging persists and you don’t hesitate to take the hint. You scurry behind the bar grabbing the first rag you can find and start wiping down the counter as he opens the door. 

  Two FEDRA soldiers by the looks and uniform are at the door, one short and stumpy doesn’t look like he holds much weight, the other dark haired tall man with the way he carried himself has a little more stature you suppose. 

  “We’re closed for the night fellas.” 

  “Who’s inside?” Joel grits his teeth as he steps out of the doorframe. He recognizes the two as frequent patrons but that’s a strong word considering they don’t provide ration cards. 

  “It’s just me and my bartender closing up for the night.” You offer a smile to the men as you resume your task at hand. Behind the bar is actually filthy so you might as well make it look believable. 

  “When did you hire a bartender? It’s just been you and Charity since Tommy—.” Joel clears his throat as the other man shoots him a look. 

  “A few days ago, I figure I needed some help around here.”

  “It’s past curfew, how’s she getting home?” The shorter one runs his hand along his jaw as he licks his lips at you. 

  “I’ll worry about how she’s gettin’ home and you worry about how you’re gonna keep drinking for free if you ask me any more questions.” You thought he might be pushing his luck with the way he spoke to them but the taller soldier raised his hands in defeat while the shorter one scowled as he left, never taking his eyes off you. 

  “She better be here tomorrow Joel.” Joel —so he had a name after all, you suppose you could stop calling him mr. grumpy in your head. 

  The door closes and Joel locks it behind them, you release a breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding. He takes his seat again at the stool and finishes his drink. He hands you the glass and points to the bottle just behind your head at the wall. 

  He expects you to falter but you grab the bottle off the shelf almost out of reach so you have to stand on your tiptoes. He takes notice of the way your gray cargo pants hug your curves, quickly averting his gaze when you turn around. You were so focused on your task you almost missed the way he looked at you.

  “I assume you have ice.”  He points to the half full bar sink filled with questionable looking ice. You’ll have to make due but seeing as he has a decent assortment of bar tools you could do your best. 

  Surprisingly he has most of the ingredients you want to make your drink, you don’t think too long and hard about the expiration dates. If they’re behind the bar then he’s serving them. 

  “You can just pour it in the glass sweetheart.” 

  “You can just be patient Joel.” He has to ignore the way his name sounds coming from your lips. “Besides…I’m the bartender.”

  He chuckles and leans back in the stool, you’ve most certainly peaked his interest as he watches you make a drink with practiced ease. 

  You taste the simple syrup before you add it to the glass, you suppose sugar and water wasn’t that hard to come by. You take stock of everything he somehow has. You add the bitters that no doubt have expired but who cares since it was bitter, the expensive whiskey on the other hand definitely had you raising an eyebrow as you did a perfect 1.5 oz pour. 

  He’s trying to hide his expression as he watches you, adding each ingredient of a cocktail he knows all too well but for some reason hasn’t attempted to make himself. You’re shaking the drink vigorously above your head and he tries to look anywhere but your chest as the movements jostle your breasts in the black tank top. 

  You double strain the drink into his glass(questionable ice), and garnish it with lemon peel, not hard to come by if you know someone that grows. 

  “You’ll have to do without the cherry, I know they’re in season but outside the wall.” He takes a mental note to get some cherries on his next run. 

  He takes the first sip and he’s a goner. It’s solace and liquid warmth. The whiskey is shocking but the sweet is soothingly familiar. The bitter is a biting reminder but the lemon is ripened and savored nesting comfortably on his tongue. 

  “Not bad.” You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, this man just saved you for Christ sake. It’s a deep bruise to your ego but you’ll have to take it…just this once. 

  “Where did you learn to make this? You start to clean up your mess not wanting to make eye contact. Your sister always said you were stubborn until the end. “I don’t mean to offend…you seem like a girl that can handle yourself but this drink is beyond your years.”

  “My grandpa liked to drink…and he was very particular about it.” You lean back against the bar facing the cracked mirror with your arms crossed. 

  “So what you were out here makin’ drinks at 10?” 

  “Of course not…I was 12.” He makes an unamused face as he finishes his ‘not bad’ old fashioned. 

  “What had you runnin’ into me tonight?” His tone is a lot more serious than his previous question. You meet his eyes in the reflection contemplating your next words. He wouldn’t go this far to turn around and rat you out. It also seemed like he was breaking a few rules and you at least owe him an explanation. 

  “I’m trying to find my sister.” You take a deep shuddering breath. “We came here together and they separated us after we were scanned.” His eyes drop down to his empty glass and you both know what goes unsaid. 

  “I don’t remember her getting bit and she never said anything to me. No one was helping so I’ve been staying out late at night trying to find her.” Joel knows more than anyone that you can't ask too many questions during daylight hours. 

  “I’m sorry…I lost my brother a few months back-.”

  “She’s not lost!” You snap involuntarily but he doesn’t budge. 

  “I’m sorry for that…you’ve only helped me and I didn’t mean to react that way.” You hate the timid sound of your voice but you know you almost got yourself killed tonight for a lost cause. She was gone and you both knew it. 

  “No need to apologize sweetheart.” He stands from his stool as he rounds the bar, he was deliberate in his movements. A man who had no time to waste even in times of leisure. He pours  a glass of clear liquid from a mason jar and hands it to you. 

  You’re grateful for the water after your chase but your face must say otherwise. 

  “It’s fresh I promise.” 

  “No it’s not that…I was just hoping for something a little stronger.” He gestures to the wall you’ve all but memorized. 

  “Help yourself.” 

  “I was hoping you had something stronger than…that.” He knows you’re trying to get a rise out of him after the slight at your drink. 

  He turns around and bends over, your breath hitching in your throat at the sight of his tight jeans and gray flannel riding up just enough to expose his lower back- (briefs man…interesting). He flicks at a tile on the floor exposing a dark hole that he reaches down into pulling out a clear bottle marked with three x’s. 

  “This is the strongest I got, but I’m afraid I can’t carry you upstairs so you can have just one.” You take the bottle from him and grab two shot glasses from behind the bar pouring you each one. 

  “Joel…no offense but I can drink you under the table.” His raucous laughter is almost startling. You didn’t think he was capable of it and it takes you by surprise. 

  “Okay…let’s make it a bet. If you win I’ll let you stay here for a little while.” He raises the glass to you awaiting your response.

  “And if I lose?” He clinks your glass and takes his shot exhaling pure liquid vapor in your face. 

  “I’ll let you stay here…for a little while.” You down the clear liquid without so much as flinching but you can feel the burn all the way down your chest until it settles deep in your gut. You’re a goner. 

  ****

1 hour later 

  You’ve both filled each other in as much as the liquor will allow on how you ended up in Boston. He was from Texas and you were from New York. You each left out some details in the middle, maybe a little too heavy for the first meeting. One thing you knew was you weren’t strangers to loss.

  “Sweetheart I’m skunk-drunk, I think you may have won this round.” You’re a ball of giggles because you know you’ve already won. Somehow this cowboy in shining flannel provided you with a bright light in a bleak world. 

  “So…how am I getting home?” You recalled what he said to the soldiers and you weren’t sure if he was still covering for you.

   He stills for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. You were something special that was worth preserving and you’ve both had far too much alcohol for him not to feel guilty. 

  “I’ve got a vacant apartment upstairs where I keep most of the booze. You can stay there if you promise not to drink it all.” He winks at you and suddenly you’re weak in the knees. You’ve never really had the chance to feel this way about anyone. 

  “Please lead the way before you have to carry me up these stairs.” Your tired sore feet follow him up the stairwell as you become acutely aware of how long this day has been. For days in the place you were assigned to stay you’ve been staying awake, not fully trusting your surroundings. 

  He stops at apartment 15 and unlocks the door, he holds it open waiting for you to enter first. There isn’t much space in the living room as it’s filled with crates. The rest of the space however is clean, the floors hardwood and the singular window against the brick outer wall casting the shadows in the moonlight. 

  “The hot water works and there’s extra sheets and towels in the closet.” He suddenly sounds as timid as you did earlier. 

  “Thank you…for everything.” He hesitates a moment in the doorway, his eyes saying a million things all at once. 

  “You’re welcome.” He closes the door softly, finally leaving you alone to unwind. You had hoped you didn’t imagine the pull you felt towards each other but he’s already gone above and beyond. It would be selfish to think any more of the situation. 

  ****

  The shower sputters to life as you impatiently wait for it to reach an acceptable temperature. As you step in letting the flowing water cascade over you, washing the day away. You keep your head back for several minutes entranced in the way the hot water permeates your scalp. 

  The steam is steadily building and you think between the drinks and the hot water it’s best you step out before Joel finds you passed out in his vacant apartment filled with booze. 

  You see your dirty clothes strewn about the bathroom, the only clothes you have at the moment and grimace at the thought of putting them back on.You decide you’ll deal with that tomorrow. Dawning only a towel you make your way into the bedroom, having a seat at the foot with the freshly changed sheets. 

  A faint knock on the front door has you jump a little. You walk on tiptoes towards the door, holding your towel tight to your body as you look through the peephole. Joel. He’s staring down at the floor sheepishly, shifting from foot to foot. You open the door and see him standing with some items balled up in his left hand. 

  “I…” He swallows hard, taking in the sight of you in your towel, tiny water droplets on your skin glistening in the moonlight and you looking up at him expectantly. “I wanted to bring you some clean clothes.” 

  He holds out the flannel and sweats for you as you take them from his hand. “Is that all you wanted?” 

  The moment feels like an eternity, you both holding onto the clothes neither one of you letting go, he slowly tugs you toward him as you press against his chest. Only the towel separating you as he takes his free hand and cups it around your neck pulling you into a desperate kiss. He tilts his head leaning into the kiss as his chapped lips engulfed yours, stealing every breath and moan from you. He finally pulls away as he rests his forehead against yours. 

  “Please tell me you’re still holding that towel.” He’s half panting as you laugh and place a kiss to the hollow of his neck. 

  “I am. If you want me to be?” He groans internally at the thought of him looking down to see your naked body pressed against his. 

  “Next time…when we haven’t had so much to drink, maybe you won’t be.” He steps back from you releasing his grip on you and the clothes. 

  “Goodnight Joel.”

  He closes the door behind him leaning against it.

Goodnight Moonshine 

Prev/Next

Comments and reblogs are much appreciated

@fishingforpike @christinamadsen @avastrasposts @alwaysdjarin @basicoccult @pastelnap @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @superhoeva @legendary-pink-dot @jwritesfanfics @milla-frenchy @casa-boiardi @moonlightdivine @theywhowriteandknowthings

[velvets-stuff]

holi! Tienes alguna canción(es) que te recuerden a tus OCs? Ya sea por la letra o el estilo de música 🤔👀

Heeey Kazzy✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Gracias por la pregunta, y sip, en realidad tengo pensado hacer playlist para mis Ocs (e incluso tengo ya una Playlist de Fish in a Birdcage AU 👀), simplemente aún no las e echo porque primero quiero hacerles fichas a mis ocs actuales antes de hacer playlist 😅

En el aspecto de si es letra o estilo de música, es más o menos ambas, algunas son por la letra, otras son por el estilo/estética de la canción, y quizás habeces son canciones que considero que el Oc en cuestión escucharía.

Y por si te intereso la playlist de Fish in a Birdcage AU…

No son Ocs, pero más o menos podría ser un ejemplo de lo que podría ser una playlist de oc (una combinación rara entre letra y estilo de música)

[velvethana]

( — YELLOWJACKETS . ) CHAPTER ONE

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀“⠀⠀BIRDS OF A ⠀ FEATHER ⠀. ⠀”

warnings. ♱ (18+). lengthy series. gore. horror. cannibalism. cult activity. college au. swearing. vomit. humor. mildly suggestive. drug use. hallucinations and derealization. no smut. main character death. side character death.

chapter warnings. ♱ (18+) swearing. vomit mention. suggestive dialogue. drug use. slight derealization.

wk. 9.6k ♱

WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

The heart of winter beats still as the sound of hard breaths echo. Steady as he focuses, inhaling and exhaling to push himself to his limits.

The kind of darkness creeping that you only find thousands of miles from the warm, safe home you’re accustomed to. His eyes attempt to adjust as he’s hit repeatedly with the foliage he’s pushing through.

Light filters through boreal woods, giving him brief glimpses of the distance ahead.

Bare feet flying across snow-covered ground, branches lashing at filthy, blood-smeared arms and legs. A scream itches at the back of his throat but he lets nothing out.

Each gasp is a spectral apparition in the freezing air as screams of anguish and hunger echo through the woods.

Occasionally, a gust of wind sends a flurry of snowflakes against the crisp air and right into his face.

He bolts down an incline, when sudden he cries out, falling to his knees. A broken branch pierces his foot, nearly clean through to the other side.

Gritting his teeth, he rips it out and regains his footing, willing himself forward. Pushing through the pain.

Whatever you do— don’t let them catch you.

The woods abruptly give way to a large clearing surrounded by skeletal white birch. The boy halts to a stop at the edge of the glade, breath catching in his throat as he processes what he’s looking at.

Dozens of eyes carved into the surrounding trees. Around them, talismans hang from the branches, fashioned from bough and bone. Suddenly without warning, the overwhelming instinct to scream takes over as he lets out a strangled noise.

The air is filled with eerie, inhuman wails and as his own scream finally adds to the chorus of chaos— the woods fall completely silent.

Almost.

Somewhere behind him, a branch cracks, snapping him out of his terrified trance as he remembers where he is. Gritting his teeth and attempting to ignore the throbbing pain in his leg, he bolts.

And this time, they let him go.

His body pale in the fading light as he flies across the glade until suddenly— he disappears.

The snow-covered ground opening up beneath him, appearing to swallow him whole.

A figure in animal pelts emerges from the tree line, his face shrouded by the hood of his rough and matter coat. Breath haggard, he approaches the edge of the deep hole that was previously concealed by cover of snow.

A tiger trap.

As he kneels at the edge, peering down through the jagged maw of branches snapped by the runner’s fall, he stares down unmoving.

Splayed at the bottom of the pit. His limbs once swift were bent at terrible, unnatural angles, body imapled on thick wooden spikes.

The bloodied points protrude through his chest, his thigh, his face— now nothing but a gory mess from chin to brow. A small and familiar silver charm glints around her.

The hunter stands, seemingly satisfied. Then, as the furs of his coat part, revealing the tattered and torn soccer shirt.

INT. VICE PRINCIPAL’S OFFICE (PRESENT)

“Would you say you were close with any of the students?”

The vice principal sits in front of Jongho, scribbling down on a journalists pad. The principal himself seems to be around his 60's, with a cultivated youthful zeal as he tents his fingers thoughtfully.

Jongho doesn’t believe in this fabricated cool in a second yet he allows him to ramble. “I would definitely not say that- not one of those kids gave a good goddamn about Trigonometry, I can tell you that much.”

“Do you keep in touch with any of the survivors?”

The man’s face shows a hint of sorrow— no it seems to lean closer towards the side of offense. “I mean, we're all survivors in a way, don't you think?”

Jongho raises an eyebrow, unmoving. The man must have sensed his distaste for that comment as he awkwardly shifts. “Then what do you think really happened out there?”

The vice principal frowns. “All I know is that what happened was a tragedy, a terrible tragedy.” He pauses for a moment, glancing at the closed door behind Jongho. A slip of vulnerability behind his eyes. Jongho flashes a coaxing smile.

“I probably shouldn't say this, but some of these kids? Eh, no big loss, if we're honest.” Jongho nods in understanding. He doesn’t understand in the slightest. “But those kids were special. They were champions.”

EXT. SKU HIGH FIELD (PAST)

The summer air is hot as the fields littered with various players: all curled lips and freckles with sweat swiped unthinkingly from cheeks and brows. Muscles tensed, eyes narrowed in concentration.

Suddenly there's a breakaway by the team in blue and gold.

The ball expertly moved upfield by their star mid-fielder Taehyun.

He negotiates one defender after another before sending the ball spinning in a long, perfectly-aimed pass.

The fullback and sweeper close in, desperate to intercept but it’s Yeonjun who connects instead, tapping the ball just past the goalie into the net.

Immediately, the other players erupt in high fives and childish butt slaps.

Yeonjun runs downfield and the other teammates give chase, grinning, before swarming him in ecstatic celebration.

Their hearts raced as the realization of the moment finally dawned on them— this was the moment that their team qualified for the National Championship.

Arms carelessly throw around each other, the group jumps up and down as a chorus of cheers rings out.

“BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!”

Team captain, coltish beauty and hero of the hour whether he deserves to be or not. Choi Yeonjun— 18 and right now, as always, he is a God and worshipped accordingly.

Yeonjun casually jogs back into position with a loose and triumphant joy.

EXT. YEONJUN’S HOME — NEXT MORNING

The city of Seoul is a concrete haven to those who lived there. A metropolis known for its vibrant blend of tradition and cutting-edge modernity. The heart of its’ country.

Living in the city is a mess of contradictions. Friends with lies bubbling just underneath the surface hidden with smiles.

Tiredly, Yeonjun stares at himself in the mirror. It’s early morning before he has to rush off back to school and he furiously brushes his teeth.

He spits and rinses, gaze unmoving.

His expression was impassive as he considers himself in the mirror, reaching up to absent-mindedly play with the delicate silver chain dangling just below the hollow of his throat.

Choi Soobin sits idle at the curb in his beat-to-shit Ford Festiva, quietly discontent as he scribbled in the journal in his lap.

He glances out the window at Yeonjun’s picturesque colonial. Red brick, shutters, perfectly manicured lawn. ‘The nice side of town’ it would be most accurately described as.

Out of the corner of his eye he spots movement and narrows his eyes, glancing over to Yeonjun’s window where he spots Chaewon climbing down from a second story window.

She hits the ground, glancing briefly in his direction like a deer in headlights before hopping the neighbor’s fence.

Finally, Yeonjun emerges from the front door, looking utterly perfect as usual. It’s almost irritating to Soobin in a way. Brushing the feeling aside, he quickly stashes the journal in his backpack as Yeonjun climbs in.

“We’re gonna be late.” Soobin says.

Yeonjun rolls his eyes as he kicks his feet on the dashboard as he’s done hundreds of times. “We’re gonna be fine, relax.”

Soobin gives him an annoyed look, glancing at his feet on the dash before deciding against arguing. When it came to Yeonjun, he found it was best to let him do what he wanted when it came to trivial matters.

Starting the car, Soobin pulls off of the curb and onto the empty residential street to make their way towards the school.

Glancing at Yeonjun, he mumbles.

“This is like the fifth time I'm missing homeroom this month...”

Yeonjun snickered. “Then I guess you better put the pedal to the metal. See what this shit-heap can really do.”

Soobin scoffs, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“This shit-heap has a name, thank you very much. And that name is Caruto.”

Yeonjun grins, dropping his feet to lean forward and pat the dash harsh and affectionately.

“Sorry, Uzumaki.”

On the stereo there’s a droll alto of a woman singing some rather boorish lyrics. Yeonjun wrinkles his nose and jabs the button, silencing it.

An off putting pop punk song suddenly blares from the speakers about instead. Innocently, off Soobin’s irritated facial expression Yeonjun’s lips form a pout of realization.

“Oh, were you listening to that?”

Soobin glanced over, a playful look in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

“No, it fell into the tape deck and accidentally pressed play.”

Yeonjun rolls his eyes but doesn't put the tape back on and hums along to the new song.

“I saw Chaewon…” Soobin paused, voice growing a bit timid afterward.

“What happened to no distractions before Nationals? "Ripping off the band-aid" and all that?” Yeonjun shrugged, rolling down the window to lean on as he began flipping through radio stations again.

“I've decided showing up to college a virgin is a mistake. No offense.” Soobin glares at him from the corner of his eye but lets him continue.

“Plus at this point we've been together for so long. If we’re each other’s firsts then she thinks we’ll be ‘linked forever’. It’s like, poetic, or something.” Soobin scoffed. “Very romantic.”

Flashing him a grin, Yeonjun continued seamlessly. “Oh, that reminds me. I decided on a color palette for our room next year. Blue and red, not too American though. More like midnight campfire under the stars… or something along those lines.”

Soobin glances at Yeonjun, a little uneasy. Avoiding the particular subject of college, something Yeonjun’s been pushing for, he decided to focus on the other topic of conversation at hand.

“Chaewon’s a virgin?”

Not that it was his business or he even particularly seemed to care, Yeonjun gave him a confused look at the unusual pry for information.

“We've been together since freshman year.” Yeonjun rationalized. “It’s the 21st century, it doesn’t matter whether she is or not but I don’t have any reason to believe she’d lie to me.”

Soobin tapped his finger against the steering wheel impatiently. “Yeah, but. I mean, you guys have broken up like… ten thousand times.”

Yeonjun threw the same carefree grin towards Soobin that he always did when it came to his concerns about their relationship. “Never long enough to count.”

Soobin continued driving for a while in silence, Yeonjun looking out the window as he picked at his nail polish.

Suddenly a sign catches Yeonjun’s attention as he glances up as they pass Bonny’s Pizza Pub. He glares at the roadside marquee reading: “We’re proud of our Varsity Baseball Team!”

“The hell is this bullshit?” He asks, scoffing as he waved his hands out the window frantically.

“Those assholes were under .500 all season—“ he pointed directly at it as he swung over the drivers seat, hitting Soobin on the shoulder.

“Soobin, honk at that thing!”

Dragging himself out of his thoughts, Soobin had a clueless look of confusion on his face.

“Huh— Why?”

Yeonjun pouted, reaching across Soobin to do it himself. As the harsh sound of the horn aired, his pout was soon replaced with a cheeky grin.

“So they know they're bullshit!” Soobin laughs as Yeonjun lays on the horn again. “They're just going to think you're like, saluting mediocre baseball.” Soobin argued.

Yeonjun shook his head, “Oh, they'll know. Here, take over.”

Yeonjun leaned out as they drove by, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Try undefeated, bitches! We're going to motherfucking NATIONALS!”

EXT. SCHOOL BACK ALLEYWAY

Beomgyu used all the muscles in his face in the moment trying hard to seem like he didn’t give a shit as he choked down a swig of something from a brown paper bag.

“Ugh.. What is that?”

His friends laugh as he pulls the bottle of Old Wren Scotch and inspects the label.

“And here I thought jocks were supposed to be able to party.” Yunjin teased. Beomgyu continued to cough as he passed her the bottle. “Eat me.”

As Yunjin takes a swig of her own, she enters a coughing fit and begins sputtering. “Oh— that is terrible.”

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Okay, you know what? You can both go suck a dick.”

Yunjin laughs, hitting him on the shoulder as he defensively snatches the bottle away from her. “And just maybe we will.”

Heeseung is smiling too before his phone goes off. His eyes light up as he checks the number. “Oh shit, it's my cousin...” curiously, Beomgyu tilts his head as he leans against the wall behind him.

“Did he get us the stuff?”

“Yeah, ton—” Before Heeseung can finish, an all too familiar voice calls out. “Hey, burnout! Show us your tits!” Yunjin narrows her eyes at the douchebag leaning out the passenger window of his idling car.

Beomgyu glances uneasily at Yunjin and she looks down, flushing with embarrassment. It wasn’t that she had done anything for this torment— it was the unfortunate experience of being a high school girl.

“C’mon, don't be shy...” sensing her unease, Heeseung nudged her in a comforting motion before passing the bottle to Yunjin.

“I mean, shit! If you really wanna see em!”

Heeseung grips the hem of his shirt with one hand. The guys in the car laugh as he starts to do a ‘sexy’ dance.

Seemingly satisfied, they start up the car to drive away.

Yunjin bites the inside of her cheek, making a decision. She tightens her grip on the bottle and chucks it at the receding car with all his strength.

The car slams on the brakes as the bottle smashes against its rear window. Suddenly screeching in reverse, Heeseung narrows his eyes at Yunjin. “The fuck, Yunjin? They're gonna kick our ass, not yours!”

Yunjin shrugs, crossing her arms. “Only if they catch you. Show them how fast the Yellowjackets can run!”

All three share a look before hauling ass as fast as they can. Beomgyu can’t help the laughs that come out, causing his friends to laugh along with him sprinting down the alley.

EXT. SKU HIGH HALLWAY

As students make their way to first period in a preponderance of unisex flannel, there’s a teacher on hall-duty. She's doing her best to look authoritative. Her results are middling.

“Slow it down, Mr. Kim. There are rules against running in the hall. I assume. I haven't seen any official documentation, but the other teachers seem pretty against it, so...” her voice trails off as she turns a corner to find Assistant Coach Choi San.

Early graduate and alumni, he landed a job as Assistant coach fairly easily. His good looks seem to have an obvious impact on her as he gives a friendly smile.

“Hey, Arin! Did you talk to Coach?”

“Who?” Arin pauses, tapping her chin. “Oh, Baekho. Yeah.”

San tilts his head to the smile, smile unmoving. He has a kind and calming presence that leaves her feeling unguarded, an effect he seems to have on mostly everyone.

“So... are you in?”

Arin laughs nervously, “Well, it's like I said, I don't really know anything about soccer.” San opens his mouth to counter but she raises her hand to stop him. “Like at all.”

“C’mon think of it as a paid vacation… we’ll have fun. Besides, we already qualified for Nationals. I think we're good on the soccer front.”

As if suddenly realizing Arin’s lips separate with a sigh of air.

“Oh, you’re going too?”

San raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms. The uniform he’s wearing doesn’t help to hide his muscles much at all. He continues as if it’s obvious. “I'm the assistant coach. Wait… why do you think I dress like this?”

This is new information to Arin but considering how good looking he is, she supposes it makes sense. Finally, she gives into his pushing with a small smile.

“Well, I guess if it would make the school board happy to have a girl there. I mean.. woman. I-I mean.. go Jackets! Haha..”

San grins, raising his fist up teasingly to bump it against her own. “Buzz, buzz, buzz! That's great, really. Welcome aboard.”

She’s unclear if he’s purposely flirting and hopes that it’s just in his nature to act this way. “Thanks. Maybe you could teach me some of the basics? I probably should know some stuff…”

San nodded, the creases by his eyes irritatingly adorable. “Yeah, sure. Can you come to practice this afternoon?”

Arin frowns. “I have a make-up bio lab. Myung Jaehyun, the whole Lyme’s disease situation. But we could grab a drink tonight?”

A look of surprised crossed San’s features before he nodded in agreement. Clapping her hands together, Arin hummed. “It's a date! I mean, not a date, date. It's a plan. A friendly agreement.”

INT. COED SOCCER TEAM LOCKER ROOM

The locker room was irritating to say the least as the sound of doors slamming shut and idle chatter rang about.

Leehan stares miserably at the mirror as Yeonjun paints a bee on his cheek. Around them, there's a flurry of activity as the rest of the team changes into uniforms and applies face paint.

“Leehan. You okay?” The boy nods and Yeonjun gives him a brotherly smile.

“It’s just a pep rally. All we have to do is run in and then stand there looking good. Honestly, I think the whole point is just to give freshman something to fantasize about later.” Leehan frowns, giving Yeonjun a haughty look as he snickers.

“I'm not nervous.” Leehan begins. Before he can continue, Y/N peeks her head in through the door. “Yeonjun?”

They look over to see her leaning in the doorway. “Coach wants to see you in his office.”

As Yeonjun passes off the brush to one of his teammates, he gives Y/N a friendly smile as he gently moves past her. Leehan pouts as Kai, his terminally cheerful teammate finishes painting his bee.

“I'm the only freshman who got asked, you know. And now it doesn't even matter. It's so unfair.”

Leehan pouts, scandalized by the sheer injustice. At the other end of the mirrors, Taehyun rolls his eyes with Beomgyu and Soobin.

“My suit was gonna be amazing. I mean— I even bought us matching accessories.” Kai gave him a smile, voice almost diplomatic as he tried to lend him some empathy their other teammates weren’t extending.

“Well, at least you can wear it next year.” Leehan gives him a withering look before speaking with total sincerity.

“You don’t get it Kai, because nobody asked you.”

Kai nods, trying to look sympathetic. “You’re done.” Despite his attempt, there was a hint of annoyance in his sweet tone.

Leehan looked in the mirror and smiled before walking off. Y/N pushed herself off of the doorway as he walked out past her, groaning as she looked into the mirror to touch up her makeup.

“Jesus Christ. Maybe someone should tell Prince Charming over there to worry less about prom and more about not fucking up at Nationals.” Taehyun crossed his arms, watching as she fixed up her hair.

“If he plays like he did at States...” As Taehyun assessed Leehan in his mind, he shook his head. “That’s not gonna happen. I’ll handle it.” Raising an eyebrow at him through the mirror, Y/N smiled as she widened her eyes dramatically. “Ooh, scary.”

INT. COACH SIM’S OFFICE

Trophies and equipment were riddled within cinderblock walls of the Coach’s office. It was much less picturesque compared to the rest of the school.

On the desk a photo sat of him, his wife and his two sons. To Yeonjun, everything looks like it smells like coffee and cigarettes.

Coach Sim gestures to the chair in front of his desk. Lighting a Marlboro, he glances up at Yeonjun.

“I'm going to talk to you like an adult. Is that okay with you?”

Yeonjun gets the sense that it's a favorite question of his by the tone he took. Cautiously, he nods.

“Do you know why I made you team captain this year?”

Yeonjun tries to project an air of mature humility as he goes to answer but is cut off. “Obviously it isn't because you're our best player.”

Even though he knew that he agreed deep down, he bit his tongue as he waited for him to finish.

“Soobin’s faster, Kai’s got you on footwork by a mile, and Taehyun, well, he could have a real future in the sport, maybe.”

Letting out a sigh he wasn’t aware he had been keeping in, Yeonjun decided to pry. “Is this... a pep talk?”

“Yeonjun, you possess something nobody else on this team has: influence. When it gets tough out there, these kids are going to be looking for someone to guide them. Can you handle that?”

There’s a beat as Yeonjun considers. It’s a heavy duty to take on but as the oldest of his team, he decides that it should be him to shoulder the burden.

Yeonjun nods, the picture of determination. “Don't worry, Coach. I've got this.”

EXT. SKU GYM

The boys baseball team stands lined up behind the vice principal at a podium on the gym floor. “Alright, let's hear it for the boys! Let's give them a hand.”

The bleachers are packed with students, exhibiting the various levels of enthusiasm you'd expect from a mandatory pep rally. Supportive shouts from the other jocks, eye rolls from the burnouts and everything in between.

The principal sighs, “Thanks, guys. You did your best.”

At the edge of the court, Coach Sim stands with Assistant Coach San and Sunoo, the team’s equipment manager. “Now, our next act needs no introduction. Let’s all make some noise for your Soccer Champions!”

As music starts to blare from the speakers, the crowd goes— well, not wild, exactly. It is high school soccer. But it’s okay, because Sunoo is fired enough for everybody. Pumping his fist, WOO-ing for all he’s worth to motivate his friends.

Coach San glances at him, amused, as the team jogs onto the court. Each member exhuding all confidence and grace. Like storming gladiators in a way, Sunoo’s enthusiasm seems contagious as the applause builds, feet rumbling against wooden bleachers.

“BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!”

EXT. WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

Pink strains of dawn are just starting to peek through the dark silhouette of trees. There’s the sound of rope, pulled taught against wood, a rasping creak.

The runner’s corpse now hanging upside down by the rope binding his ankles. Snowflakes drift through the early light as the hunter and a new figure, the butcher, work to hoist the body from a tree branch.

After a beat of silence, another figure— the overseer— joins them. There’s a moment, before they nod their approval.

There’s splashes of blood hitting the snow, ruining its’ delicate state as the butcher slits the runner’s throat with a hunting knife. Bleeding him out like a prize buck.

EXT. SKU HIGH COURTYARD

As Soobin exits the school, he approaches Beomgyu, Y/N and Taehyun who seemed to be conferring in hushed tones on their way to practice.

“This is what we've been working for all season. You really want to take that chance?” Taehyun asked, kicking at the ground.

Beomgyu scoffed, “Yeah. 'Cause I'm not a fucking asshole.” Doe eyes wide and alert, Soobin pulled on the strap of his backpack. “What are you guys talking about?”

They all glance towards Leehan, messing around playfully with some other freshmen on the other side of the courtyard.

“Leehan.” Y/N says simply. Soobin’s lips press into a frown, “What about him?”

“Did you black out at States? He totally choked.” Taehyun says. Beomgyu sighed. Taehyun’s competitive nature for sport was no secret but he still couldn’t help but find his annoyance harsh.

“He’s a freshman, Tyun.” Taehyun just frowned. “He’s a liability.” Soobin glances in Yeonjun’s direction uncertainly. Talking with Chaewon and her friends, he seems completely oblivious to his own teams’ conspiring.

“What do you want to do about it?” Soobin asked wearily. Beomgyu gives Taehyun a look. “Go ahead. Tell him.”

“He can't screw up if he doesn't get the ball.” He said simply. Soobin frowns. “You want to freeze him out?”

Beomgyu scoffs, “We'd basically be a man down. At Nationals.” Although he’s trying to rationalize, it just seems to add more tension to the situation.

“At least we'd know what we're working with.” Taehyun says. “I don't know, Tyun. He kinda sucks, but... it doesn't feel right.” Y/N says, crossing her arms as she looks over toward Leehan.

Beomgyu scoffed, expecting more defense from her. “That's because it's bullshit.” Taehyun scoffs this time. What he wants to say is fuck you but rather than that, he decides to bite his tongue. “Oh yeah? What's your plan, then?”

Beomgyu shook his head, “I dunno, play like a fucking team and win? It's worked so far.”

The tension in the group was clear, Y/N picking at her nails with her eyes cast downward. Soobin seemed to pick up on her anxiety and offered her a squeeze on the shoulder.

Taehyun and Beomgyu didn’t butt heads as often as the rest of them but when they did, it was obvious to stay clear.

“Everything works until it doesn't.” Taehyun argued. “And for the record, you smell like a wino. Get your shit together Gyu.”

Beomgyu takes a step towards him and glances at Y/N, then changes his mind. “You know what? Fuck this.” Beomgyu stalks off, shoulder checking Taehyun as he leaves. Soobin lingers back fully considering what Taehyun was proposing.

“Yeonjun’s not gonna like it.” He said. Taehyun huffed. “Then we probably shouldn't tell him.” Soobin hesitates before nodding.

EXT. SKU HIGH SOCCER FIELD (PAST)

Students in various athletic— soccer track— tread lightly as they head out to their respective fields.

Taehyun, Soobin and Y/N arrive just behind Beomgyu as Yeonjun finishes leading the rest of the team through a series of stretches.

Coach San clapped his hands together to get their attention. “Okay, circle up!” There's a short whistle blast as Coach San jogs onto the field.

“JV's gonna help us out with a little scrimmage today. Coach Sim had to take care of a family thing, so grab a pinny from Sunoo and let's get started.”

“Excuse me, Coach San? Shouldn't we say the lords’ prayer?” Jungwon’s voice asked gently and Niki groaned, leaning back on the field with a ‘thud’.

It wasn’t that Jungwon was particularly annoying or pushy about his religion, he was just certainly pert and could get on your last nerve. A few members of the team roll their eyes and glance over as Coach San expectantly who just chuckles.

“It's.. just a scrimmage, Jungwon.” Off his insistent look, he sighs and nods towards him. “..Sure. Knock yourself out.”

The team reluctantly forms a circle, heads bowed, hands joined as Jungwon recited the lords’ prayer.

Regardless of what anyone on the team thought, these circles had became a tradition at this point due to his sheer persistence and belief in them.

The scrimmage began shortly thereafter and as it progresses, Soobin dribbles upfield, easily maneuvering around the JV defender.

Leehan races open on his left but Soobin ignores him, opting for a trickier pass to Kai. When Beomgyu darts in and redirects the ball to Leehan who fumbles, then panicking as the defense closes in, sending a wild pass out of bounds.

As Coach San’s whistle blows, Beomgyu throws Soobin and Taehyun a defiant look of disappointment.

Soobin and Taehyun work together to keep Leehan out of the play throughout the game as Beomgyu undermines their efforts every chance he gets. Yeonjun shoots Soobin a look as to ask ‘what the fuck is going on?’

Taehyun gestures for a time out and jogs over to Coach San. As hard as he focused, Beomgyu couldn’t hear their conference, but he got the gist when Taehyun strips off his red pinny. He hands it over to the JV sweeper playing against Leehan, switching sides and sticks his tongue out teasingly at Beomgyu.

“C'mon, Varsity. Your own defense wants to see you step it up. And frankly, that makes two of us.” San clapped his hands together encouragingly, “Let's see some hustle!”

San blows the whistle and JV kicks off, this time with Taehyun playing for the other side. He’s all over Leehan: crowding, holding and talking shit per usual.

There’s another pass to Leehan, when Taehyun slide tackles him hard. As the ball rolls out of bounds, and the whistle blows foul Yeonjun finally voices his irritation.

Jogging up to Taehyun, he grabs his shoulder. “What's your problem? Are you- okay? Did something happen?” Playing dumb, Taehyun jerks his shoulder out of his grip. “What?”

Confused, Yeonjun pouts. “Just… ease up on the kid.” Soobin watches the interaction, then works his way closer to Taehyun as the players get ready for the inbound throw.

“C'mon, Tyun. This isn't helping.” Taehyun shrugs. “If we can't freeze him out, he’s gonna have to learn to play under pressure.” He rationalizes.

Before Soobin can respond, the coach’s whistle blows and play resumes. Taehyun’s strategy is set in action as he stays on Leehan taking a beating, frustrated. Only the harder Taehyun goes, the more the team realizes his strategy is working.

Leehan grimaces in concentration, negotiating the ball around Taehyun with a slick cruyff turn. In the corner, Leehan shoulders Taehyun hard to clear space for a pass and he chuckles in disbelief.

Leehan sprints to get open, Taehyun hot on his heels. Soobin fires a long lofted pass. Leehan and Taehyun are both vying for the ball as it arcs high in the air when Leehan jumps for a header and Taehyun instinctively juts his foot out, catching his ankle as he comes back down.

There's a sickening, audible snap as Leehan’s leg seemingly collapses. Buckling and breaking in a compound fracture that is a total peversion of the human form.

There's a beat of silence— an eerie stillness— as Leehan collapses on the field. Jagged bone puncturing the skin, blood spreading, soaking into the grass as he screams before all hell breaks loose.

Y/N screams as someone else begins to cry— Kai covers his mouth to try and swallow the nausea that arose. Taehyun backs away, stunned, horrified, as Coach San rushes to Leehan’s side.

Despite the fact he should keep his cool, he lets it slip out of sheer disbelief of the situation. “Holy fuck.” Trying to keep his shit together, he takes a deep breath. “Just— We need an ambulance. There's a phone in the coach’s office. Sunoo! Go.”

Sunoo nods, like a soldier in battle for some reason, before taking off. San watches for a beat before pulling himself back to reality. “Shit. Just— keep him calm! Don’t move him.”

He takes off after Sunoo as Soobin approaches Leehan, hyperventilating on the ground. He looks around, trying to find Yeonjun. He finds him pale, wide-eyed, frozen in place.

Knowing he should do something but hesitating, unsure of what to do. As if one wrong move could shake the entire balance of the team.

“Yeonjun.”

Soobin calls for him but he doesn’t move. His eyes are shot as he stares, seemingly in a bit of shock. Steeling himself, Soobin gets down on the ground, trying not to look at the leg and all the blood. Taking Leehan’s hand he tried to muster up a comforting smile, though his face was contorted in discomfort.

“Hey, look at me, Leehan. You're going to be fine. I'm right here.”

Beomgyu quickly joined him on the ground, dropping to his knees. “We're all right here. Okay?”

Soobin glances at him, grateful. As Leehan looks up at them and nods, shaky, he was clearly in shock.

INT. COED SOCCER TEAM LOCKER ROOM

There’s near silence as the team changes. Everyone is still a little shell shocked from what happened. An edgy feeling. Something combustible in the air.

Taehyun is sitting by himself. Everyone else is avoiding eye contact except Beomgyu, who's giving him a death glare.

Yeonjun looks around at his team before taking a deep breath.

“I know we're all worried about Leehan. But… I really think we need to focus on the positive right now! It might not be as bad as it looks.”

Beomgyu scoffs at Yeonjun’s blind optimism.

“You could see his fucking bones, Yeonjun. I'm pretty sure it's exactly as bad as it looks!”

Kai covered his mouth and turned away, “Oh god. I think I'm gonna puke again...” Beomgyu put his hand on his back gently.

Yeonjun glares at Beomgyu, unused to his authority being questioned. Trying to recover the situation, he sighs.

“I mean we’re still a team. And we still have each other, okay? And…” Jungwon swallowed. “We have faith.”

Y/N groaned, rolling onto her side as she pushed herself to sit up on the bench. “This wasn't exactly a big win for the power of prayer, Wonnie.”

Jungwon gave a nervous smile, “the world works in mysterious wa-” There’s a loud bang as Beomgyu slams his locker, giving Soobin a particularly nasty look as he storms out.

“Okay… guess he’s not up for a theological discussion.” Yeonjun shoots Y/N a look and she simply shrugs.

INT. SOOBIN'S HOUSE

Soobin and Yeonjun sat in a cramped attic room in a ramshackle house. Faded wallpaper, and soccer trophies littering the shelves.

“I don't know, it feels weird to just go like nothing happened...” Soobin said. Yeonjun sat putting on concealer at a small light-up vanity. Admiring his reflection, he made sure it was blended perfectly to cover anything up.

Satisfied, his attention shifts to the photos on the desk— him and Soobin at various ages. A talent show. The beach. Halloween.

“I mean, it's not like skipping the party is going to un-fuck Leehan’s leg. Plus, it's tradition. And we're already missing prom...”

Yeonjun sits back, fingering the chain around his neck. Then, bored, he starts opening vanity drawers. He pulls out an old prayer card of the Virgin Mary, turning it over.

“Oh my god, remember when you tried to get your mom to let you become Catholic? What did you call it?” Soobin, still shaken from the afternoon ruffles his hair in the mirror as he fixes his shirt over his jeans.

“My ‘spiritual awakening.’” Yeonjun snickers, “You were such a weird kid. What were you, like, nine?” Then, Soobin walks out into the room. “Eleven. I liked the saints. They were all so tragic.”

Yeonjun gives the basic outfit a once-over. Shaking his head no. As Soobin heads back into the closet, Yeonjun begins. “Lucky you had me to save you from yourself... You know, Kazuha’s going to be at the party tonight.”

Soobin gave Yeonjun a confused look, “Um, okay..” Yeonjun hums. “She asked Chaewon to ask me if you were gonna be there...” Soobin reemerges in the same jeans with a new white button up.

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow. “Definitely not.” Soobin crosses his arms. “Kazuha? Really?”

Yeonjun shrugs. “What? She’s basically Chaewon’s best friend. I just thought you might want to know she asked about you... plus she’s pretty quiet and respectable. Opposites attract or whatever.”

Soobin stares at himself in the mirror as Yeonjun begins to toss a stress ball up in the air, catching it and repeating. “So I’m not respectable?” Yeonjun snickers but Soobin just glares at himself in the mirror.

“I don’t need a girlfriend right now.” There’s a snap in his tone and Yeonjun looks over confused. “Jesus, I wasn’t saying you had to marry the girl.” Soobin doesn’t respond, trying to find another outfit that suites his friends’ standards.

“Whatever— are you ready, or what? C'mon, we're gonna be late...”

EXT. WOODS - NIGHT

Deep in the woods. Moving towards the glow of a fire, somewhere amongst the trees was a gathering of students. Hundreds, maybe.

A souped-up 4runner barrels in, a dented keg secured in the back. Teenage boys jump out to heave the keg to the ground as several other cars pull up alongside.

Soobin huffed as he realized they’re at a typical teenage hang-out spot. More specifically, the site of Kim Chaewon's famous annual kegger.

Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun and Soobin stood red solo cups in hand hanging with Chaewon and her friends. Yeonjun hits a bong as the girls laugh, Chaewon leaning into him to playfully mess up his hair.

There’s a few jealous stares from unknown sources as Yeonjun holds court, putting on a show. He turns away from Chaewon and grabs Soobin’s hand to insist he takes a hit.

Resistant, Soobin instead chugs his beer. Heeseung makes his way past the scene, finding Beomgyu and Yunjin. “You guys. My cousin hooked us up.”

Beomgyu’s eyes light up with a sparkle. “You got it?” Heeseung grins, holding out his hand to reveal several tiny squares of paper.

“I have six words, my friend. Lucy. In. The. Sky. With. Diamonds.” Yunjin rolled her eyes, laughing. “That is, like, literally the least efficient way to say that.” As Beomgyu snatches one of the tabs from his palm, Yunjin grabbed his hand.

“Dude. Don't you guys leave for the Olympics or whatever tomorrow?” Beomgyu paused, swallowing the lump in his throat as he thought about leaving. Taking a deep breath, he nodded.

“Yeah. We do.” He gave them both a look, daring either to say anything else. Yunjin shrugs as if it’s not her problem. Beomgyu takes the hit and Heeseung laughs.

Beomgyu closes his eyes for a moment, letting it dissolve as Heeseung’s arm finds a home on his shoulder.

“We are gonna ace that shit, my friend. We are champions.”

Somehow through the buzz of the party, Soobin found himself watching Yeonjun and Chaewon from a distance. A feeling of uneasiness and irritation at how easy it was for them to resume their relationship. His expression was unreadable.

Soobin rolls his eyes in disgust, then drains his cup. Heading for the keg to get another, he stumbles a bit only to find Taehyun already waiting for a beer.

Taehyun doesn’t notice him getting on line behind him at first but Soobin makes sure he does. “I admire your resilience, Tyun. It can't be easy knowing you fucking crippled someone today.”

Taehyun turned, eyes wide for a moment before realizing how completely shit-faced his friend was. Frowning for a moment, he hummed before giving him a forced smile.

“Cool. Good talk.” He starts to walk away, when Soobin shakes his head. “Just admit you did it on purpose.” Taehyun scoffs, turning toward him. “Excuse me?

Soobin pouted, stumbling to a halt as Taehyun walked back up to him. “You heard me.” Taehyun shook his head. “You know me, I wouldn’t have done that on purpose. I’m not heartless.”

Soobin threw his cup on the ground to emphasize his point. “You’re a fucking sociopath!” People started watching now, the argument garnering the attention of a few of their teammates as they head over.

Although the words hurt, Taehyun didn’t bother to argue back. The guilt lingering in him refused to let him defend himself. “You're wasted, Soobin.”

Kai makes his way over and puts a hand on Soobin’s shoulder, ready to lead him away. “Hey, Soobin, take it easy...” he shrugs it off.

“Good news, you guys. We don't have to worry about the Leehan problem anymore. Taehyun fixed it for us!” Jungwon’s eyes widened and he looked at Jay who shrugged, looking just as confused as he was.

“What's he talking about?”

Beomgyu walked over, jaw locked as he clenched his teeth. “He’s talking about Taehyun’s little plan.”

Taehyun scoffs, “Please. Since when do you give a shit anyway? Don't you have a bong to hit or a dick to suck, or something?”

Soobin jumped to Beomgyu’s defense. “Hey. Don't talk to him that way.” Beomgyu laughed. “Oh, fuck off, Soobin. I don't need you to defend me anymore. Last I checked, you were fine with the whole ‘freeze him out' strategy...”

Jungwon scratched his cheek, look of confusuon only worsening. “Seriously, what are you guys talking about?”

Soobin and Beomgyu’s voices boomed out in unison, “Shut the fuck up, Jungwon!”

Stepping forward, Niki chimed in. “Don’t talk to him like that, what the fuck?”

As the situation continues to escalate, Yeonjun finally seems to catch wind of the brewing fight. He frowns, heading off in the direction of the keg. Only to confront a full-on verbal barrage, everyone yelling at once.

Jungwon shot a glare at Kai. “Let me finish! LET ME-” Kai ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “You interrupted me!” Soobin leaned into Taehyun’s face, pointing at him. “Go ahead and say that again, dickhead.”

An even bigger crowd gathered and Kazuha twirled a strand of hair around her finger, Chaewon standing idly by her. “Boys are so catty, aren’t they?” She hummed. “So aggro…”

Yeonjun storms in, taking in the situation at hand. “That’s it.” Thrusting himself into the middle of the maelstrom and extending his hands between Soobin and Taehyun, he shouted.

“Enough!”

Everyone stops as Yeonjun crosses his arms, glaring. Then, turning on his heels he motions for them to follow.

“Yellowjackets, WITH ME. NOW.”

The rest of them watch as he stomps off into the woods beyond the bonfire. Clearly expecting them to follow suit. There’s a beat of silence, before one after one, they do.

Soobin is the last to hold out. As he reluctantly follows the rest of the team. Yeonjun is pacing in front of his teammates like a body-glittered Patton. Sizing them up. A few look a little drunk. All of them look fucking miserable. Beomgyu, in particular, looks unsteady, as the acid starts to kick in.

“I don't know what the fuck that was, but I do know that it's over. We're about to go to Nationals, you guys. Nationals. And based on what I'm looking at right now, we might as well not even bother getting on that plane.”

He thinks for a second. “Alright, everybody line up… I'm fucking serious. LINE UP.” Almost as a reflex to his tone, they do. Then, a small smile playing on his lips, he continues. “I'm going to talk to you like adults. Is that okay with you?”

A few smile as they recognize the coach’s catchphrase. “Coach is always telling us that you can't win without three things. Talent. Trust. And respect.” Yeonjun taps his foot impatiently.

“I mean, Coach also talks a lot of bullshit, but I'm pretty sure he's right about that. So here’s what we’re gonna do. I want each of you to go down this line and say one nice- true- thing about every other person on this team.”

The others exchange looks. “Is he fucking serious?” Niki asked.

Dragging his feet into line, Jay threw the rest of them a confused look after having missed a majority of the argument.

“What is this, fucking Boy Scouts?” Yeonjun ignored the comment with a slight tsk before continuing, “Who wants to go first?”

Nobody makes eye contact before finally. “I’ll go, Yeonjun.” Solemnly, Jungwon steps out and walks to the end of the line. Starting with Taehyun.

“Taehyun, you are beautiful in the eyes of the lord.” Taehyun lets out an exasperated exhale before Jungwon steps over to Kai who gave him a smug smile.

“Kai, you are beautiful in the-” Y/N groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Oh my god this kid…” Yeonjun sighed, clapping his hands together.

“He took one religious class for the grade point and they brainwashed him… free my man Jungwon.”

“Jungwon, fall back!” Jungwon falls back into line between Jay and Niki as Yeonjun puts his hands on his hips, foot tapping impatiently.

“Fuck. Fine, I'll go first.” He walks over to Taehyun and looks him directly in the eye. “Kang Taehyun, you have more fight in you than anyone I've ever known. I’m inspired by your determination and hard work.”

He then steps over to Kai.

“Huening Kai, your smile makes me feel happy, every time I see it. You’re the undeniable force that holds us all together.”

Next, Jungwon.

“Jungwon, I truly admire your faith and kindness. You’re insanely skilled for your age and I can’t wait to see you take over this team.”

Beomgyu bites the inside of his cheek, pulling at the skin inside anxiously as his head spins, the acid worsening the effects. “Beomgyu, I love that you don't care what anybody else thinks. You're more completely yourself than anyone else I know and you are incredibly warm, even if you don’t think so.”

Glancing down the line, Yeonjun’s heart swells. “Y/N. Your ambition inspires me. I have no doubt you're gonna take over the world some day.”

Kai snickered, “She's also deadly at beer pong.”

Yeonjun clapped his hands together, jumping excitedly at the comment. “Well, go ahead then. Tell her. C'mon, guys. If we do this one at a time, we'll be here all night...”

Rolling their eyes with affection, the members shyly start to turn to each other. Turning to Jungwon, Kai tapped his elbow with his finger. “Jungwon, you... have really shiny hair?” Raising an eyebrow, Jungwon gave him a confused smile.

Beomgyu swallowed down the dryness in his throat, clearing it quickly before looking Y/N in the eyes. “Y/N L/N, you never talk shit unless someone really deserves it.“ he paused for a moment, eyes traveling to the top of her head before he chuckled. “I… also really like your pilgrim hat.”

Y/N who was— definitely not wearing a hat— had a look of confusion before shaking her head, deciding to accept the strange compliments and move on. “Um… Okay..?”

Then, as Soobin approaches Taehyun, he takes a deep breath. “I'm sorry for what I said before. About you-”

Taehyun shakes his head, nudging Soobin. The two grew apart in recent months but there was still the remnants of a connection.

“I didn't, you know. Mean to hurt him.” Soobin isn’t sure if he believes him but he could tell that, if nothing else, Taehyun wanted it to be true.

Soobin nods when Yeonjun approaches. “Hey guys. Are we cool?” Soobin looks at him and shrugs. “I dunno. You still haven't said anything nice about me.”

Taehyun chuckles as he goes over to Kai who was waving him over. Yeonjun rolls his eyes, voice laced with sarcasm. “Choi Soobin, you're a fucking laugh riot.”

The smile on his face falters slightly at Soobin’s pout, shaking his head. “Okay, fine.” Yeonjun grabs Soobin’s hand.

“You're a clumsy dancer, you've got seriously questionable taste in music, and you can't hold your liquor for shit... but you’re also the smartest person I know and the only one who's always been there for me. You're the best friend I've ever had.”

His voice was laced with sincerity, “You know that, right?”

Quietly, Soobin agreed. “Yeah. I know.”

“And you should have told me about Taehyun and Leehan.” Soobin nods, he knows that too. Or at least, doesn't want to fight about it. The fight's gone out of him for now.

“Now, c'mon. Let's get you home.”

Yeonjun tugs on Soobin’s hand, wishing it felt better than it did. It felt off compared to any other time he had, it felt colder.

As the party winds down. Empty cups and beer cans remain, a few holdout couples still making out. The bonfire is burned down to embers now as Beomgyu continued tripping balls.

Looking around at his friends and classmates, their faces strange, distorted. Wrong. He turns away, afraid. Suddenly spotting Y/N standing alone amongst the trees, at the edge of darkness. Watching.

“Y/N?” His voice comes out hushed, confused.

Y/N’s face also begins to shift and warp. Beomgyu squeezes his eyes shut, regretting putting himself in a bad trip. When he reopens them, Y/N is gone off somewhere. He focuses his eyes onto the dying flames of the fire.

EXT. WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

Another bonfire, in another place, at another time. Meat is roasting over makeshift spit, fat hissing as it drips into the flames... a set of hands works on a hatchet and hunting knife over flesh and bone.

There’s the sound of faint humming, the person lost in the task at hand. High and clear.

A naggingly familiar, haunting melody.

'It seems no one can help me now, I'm in too deep, there's no way out. This time I have really lead myself astray...'

EXT. BACKSTREETS (PAST)

As Soobin rides in the front alone, Yeonjun sits with Chaewon in the back, leaning her forehead against the cool pane of the window. They ride in silence, as the radio plays.

“Turn on here, it's faster.” Soobin glances back in the rearview mirror, annoyed. “Chaewon’s house is on the way.” Yeonjun groaned, kicking the back of his seat. “C'mon. I'm past curfew.”

Chaewon chuckled. “I have a curfew too, you know.” Yeonjun gave her a sheepish smile, “Yeah, but. I mean, you know what my parents are like.”

Soobin sighs, there's no point in arguing. Yeonjun gets what Yeonjun wants. As Chaewon rolls down her window, letting the cool night air wash over her face, she sighs.

Soobin cuts the headlights and pulls quietly up to the curb, watching as Yeonjun and Chaewon climb out and exchange a quick hug before Chaewon gets in the front— an end of night ritual they've repeated countless times.

As they pull away, Chaewon gives a quick wave from the window flashing that patented, easy the-world-is-ours grin, for a moment, still and beautiful and perfect in the moonlight.

Soobin and Chaewon- now in front- drive alone down a dark two-lane road in a remote, wooded part of town.

“Pull over.” Chaewon says.

“Are you gonna puke? Don't puke in my car, Chaewon.” Soobin’s voice is laced with disgust and Chaewon rolls her eyes.

“Just pull over. Here.”

Soobin turns down an access road. As the car rolls to a stop, there’s a beat as the two both sit, staring out the windshield in silence.

“I thought we weren't doing this again.” Soobin said, breaking the silence. Chaewon frowns, “I’m not. Clearly.”

Soobin gives her a confused look and she rolls her eyes. “I just wanted to talk about it. It was a mistake. You know that right?”

Soobin scoffed at the insinuation that it— he was a mistake. “Yeah. Chaewon, I know.” She frowns. “I don’t want it to ruin our friendship— or yours. We both just slipped up, you know?”

Soobin shook his head, leaning into the palm of his hand. “We don’t need to talk about it.” He said, starting the car again.

VARIOUS LOCATIONS - NIGHT

Yeonjun folds his clothes peefectly, tucking them away into his suitcase.

Soobin holds a piece of paper, an official letterhead from his university of choice. Shaking his head, he stuffs the letter in a desk drawer. Then, picking up his suitcase, he takes one look at his childhood bedroom. As though sensing he’s leaving something— some part of him— behind.

Taehyun waits by himself as a taxi pulls into his driveway, struggling to load his own luggages.

Beomgyu sighs, smoking a joint out of the window of his cramped bedroom.

Kai finished packing away his clothes, his younger sister helping him zip up the suitcase. His older sister leaned against the door frame teasing him about having grown up.

Y/N sat staring at the table as her family maid served her breakfast. The chef’s kitchen was enormous her eyes trained on all marble and stainless steel. As the maid pointedly hands her a bottle of loxipene, she watches carefully like a hawk Y/N shakes out a pill and swallows it with juice.

Heeseung looks at himself in the mirror, pulling at his dilated eyes and snickering slightly before shaking his head. Suitcase all prepped and pre-ready, he flicks the bathroom light off.

Jay tiredly tosses his suitcase by his door, throwing himself down onto his bed with an exhausted heave.

Coach Sim loads the trunk of his station wagon with luggage as his two sons, Jake and Sunghoon climb in the back to go.

Sunoo sits at the edge of his pool, kicking his feet in the water with an impassive expression.

Jungwon sat on his knees, saying one last prayer to the small painting on his bedroom wall.

Niki goes into his living room to find his mom passed out on the couch, a bottle of scotch on the coffee table. Rolling his eyes, he grabs the car keys as she starts to awake.

INT. CHARTERED PLANE

The team are together now as they make their way onboard.

The students excitement is palpable as they take in the interior of the plane. It looks pretty much like any other plane except this time: it only belongs to them.

Beomgyu laughed in disbelief, “Wicked.”

Kai leaned toward Y/N excitedly, “I can't believe your Dad paid for a private plane!”

Y/N shrugged, “It's pretty much his only form of parenting, but I guess I'll take it.”

Jay and Heeseung chuckled before chiming in together in a sing-song tone. “Thank you, Mr. L/N!”

Coach Sim shakes his head, making his way down the aisle. “Alright, hustle up and take a seat. We've got a long flight.”

San stands helping Sunoo and Jungwon load their carry-ons into the overhead compartment. Assiduously pretending he doesn't see Arin approaching down the aisle, looking hungover. She gives him a sheepish smile before squeezing past and heading down the aisle.

A few rows back, Soobin and Yeonjun settled into adjoining seats. Soobin looked pale.

Yeonjun nudged him, eyes holding a look of concern. “You alright? They probably have a puke bag, if you need it.”

Soobin nodded, though he didn’t respond. He didn’t necessarily have a fear of flying but for some reason— this particular flight left him uneasy. He chalked it up to the tension building up to their game.

As he glances around the cabin nervously, Yeonjun smiles, rummages in his bag. Pulling out a balled-up tissue tucked deep into one of the inner pockets, he holds it out.

Soobin gives him a confused look.

“Remember when you came with my family to Jeju in second grade? You cried the whole flight.”

Soobin scoffed. “In my defense I was like 8, Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun opens the tissue, revealing two pale blue valium pills. “I swiped these from my mom's medicine cabinet. She didn’t even notice.”

Soobin didn’t answer as he gently took the pills in his hand. “I know, I’m the best. And here.”

Yeonjun takes off his chain, linking it around Soobin’s neck instead. “It's a good luck charm. Now nothing can touch you.”

Soobin shakes his head as he swallows the pills, giving Yeonjun a look of genuine appreciation.

The team continues laughing, gossiping and singing. They’re all too swept up in their excitement over the adventure ahead.

As the sound of the plane getting ready to take off gets louder, Soobin’s nails dig into the arm rest of his seat. Yeonjun glances at him, leaning his head on his shoulder in comfort.

There’s a few playful shrieks as the plane lifts off. Soobin’s eyes grow heavy as the sounds of his teammates begin to warp and fade, growing dim as the Valium kicks in.

EXT. WILDERNESS (UNKNOWN)

The fur-clad butcher carries a steaming wooden plank— a makeshift platter— towards the overseer and a ring of acolytes waiting silently in the moonlight.

The overseer turns towards a strange, masked and horned figure: the shaman. Some unspoken agreement passes between them.

The culmination of a strange ceremony begins to unfold. Then, as he gestures to the congregation— they descend, ravenous, coven-like, on the feast. Grease-smeared faces as their teeth hungrily begin to rip and tear meat from its’ bone.

The overseer of the feast pulls back his hood to reveal his face, eyes dim and exhausted. The wreckage of the plane is weathered by sun and rain, grown over with dead winter vines.

INT. CHARTERED PLANE (PAST)

Soobin gasps awake to find himself in a cabin now eerily dark. The engines strain, a deep, terrifying roar. Somewhere behind him, someone screams.

He can’t quite place who it is or what’s happening, all he does is turn to Yeonjun. He shaked him, heart racing. He doesn’t move. Across the aisle, Jungwon quietly mutters a desperate prayer.

Frantic, Soobin tries to get his bearings, to make sense of the nightmarish scene. Beside him, Yeonjun remains slumped, his unused oxygen mask dangling limply overhead from the initial loss of cabin pressure.

Soobin yanks up the window shade to see the silhouette of mountains, close and getting closer. The ground rushing up as they glide over a vast forest. Then— one final and deafening BANG!

[liturgusakrattorum]

from whence we came

[cxllingcareless]

in which two brothers fight against fate.

Oh heck what have we here?? Yet another fic idea??? You know it buddy

UhhhHH basically it’s *supposed* to be a “Mythical Creatures” AU but that’s already been done to hell and back in this community so it’ll probably be something different?? I have no idea what I’m doing :))

Basic premise is that Chris has been having strange dreams lately and eventually they get to the point where he catches himself sleepwalking. The dreams eventually turn into night terrors, and Chris quickly finds himself unable to close his eyes without meeting those of a monster’s (hence the heavy bags under his eyes in the first picture).

Luckily, something pointing towards an explanation drops into Chris’s lap when reports of a massive earthquake in the forests of the Netherlands calls the Wild Kratts Crew to investigate/check on the wildlife. What they find there, however, throws the gang in the midst of a crisis that spans the entire globe, and Chris realizes that his and Martin’s lives are connected to a destructive cycle older than time itself.

I also posted this earlier today; it’s a playlist that goes with all this before I actually get into the writing process lol

I’ll post more details as I work out the plot a bit more!! Right now I know that I wanna include some Wild Kratts Kids in this to help explain certain parts of the story better as well as giving me free reign to do some shameless self-inserts of myself and anyone else in the community who wants in lmao but stay tuned for more in the near(ish) future!! uwu

[shinyelectracey]

Pregunta, sobre el au de Yandere Simulador, mencionaba que había otra persona que estaba enamorada de Chris, no sabría si cuenta como spoiler pero ¿Podríamos tener aunque sea una pista de esa persona?

Alguien cercano a Chris... Creo que es lo único que puedo decir de esa persona sin que averigüen inmediatamente quien es 乁| ･ 〰 ･ |ㄏ

[bonniebeanie]

-Bright colors warning!-

An au where basically

Toodles becomes self aware and realizes the situation he's in. And when trying to run away, something stops him

[theartingskorpio]

Here’s the final piece. I really love the Echoes Au and this scene was so powerful I couldn’t get it of my head so I had to draw but out. The bros look a little out of place but that might be due to 1) my style for drawing creatures is way different from the one for drawing people and 2) the smaller I have to draw the bros the more their style changes somehow but other than that I love how it turned out I decided to go with a purple-ish base for the ouroboros and build the black color up from there also its design is inspired of bush vipers @holykratt hope it’s the way you pictured.

[lifeofclonewars]

for the WIP ask game: 1. fives 2. echo 3. cutup 4. hevy 5. droidbait

Haha I love this. 1-4 are from WK Part 3. Droidbait is mentioned there, but as DB, not Droidbait, so I gave some info from the Marching AU

1: “Watch your language, you two. Don’t think I forgot what you said earlier, Wolffe. Fives and Echo are right there.”

2: That was Echo, always asking questions, whether they were his own or ones he noticed others had but were too afraid to ask.

3: “Then Cutup and DB did, too, since they liked that idea and their names aren't the greatest, either.”

4: “Oh, wasn’t there this one time Hevy tried to lift your desk while you were still sitting at it?” Fives asked his twin.

5: Droidbait is in Guard, he purposefully runs into the rest of Domino, especially when they’re picking on him more than normal. Can’t get hit by guard if you’re the guard hitting people lol *insert can’t if you don’t meme here*

((Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in))

[calumcest]

wilde kerle au drabble for my spoiler twin xo

this is possibly even more insane than britpop au and also i havent watched wk in so long that i only remembered the basic premise and i’m not about to bring early 2000s sexism into this so this is what we ended up with <3 i hope u enjoy it 

Football’s always been something Calum’s taken seriously, even more so when they lose their little pitch. You’ll have to win it back off us, Michi says, with a smirk, and then kicks the ball at Calum’s head, hard. 

Fine, Calum thinks, gritting his teeth as he walks away. He’ll fucking win it back, then.  

He trains every day after his lectures are finished, four hours on the weekend, drags Mali out of bed and makes her walk with Calum through the rain and mud to get to the pitch they practice on. It starts with just them, and then a few other stragglers join because they hate Michi, and then some join because they want to play football, and one of them brings his little brother, who turns out to be Calum’s age. Luke, he’s called, and he’s the most annoying little fuck Calum’s ever met. He doesn’t speak, just stands at the sidelines with wide eyes, staring at the ball as it gets one-twoed from Calum to Ashton and back again, and Calum’s one failed throw-in away from telling Luke’s brother Jack to just fuck off and take him home when the ball lands at Luke’s feet, somewhere around the halfway line, and he looks at it, blinks, steps back, and kicks it. It flies in a perfect arc, soaring through the air, and lands neatly in the top left-hand corner of the goal, and Luke just looks at it and then turns away, like that’s normal, like it’s a regular occurrence. 

Calum decides he can stay. 

Because it’s Calum’s team, really. Mali likes to pretend its hers, because she’s older and more organised and the one who makes sure everyone’s stood where they need to be stood and marking who they need to be marking, but Calum’s the one who comes up with the tactics, who watches as Ashton expertly slide-tackles Chris and decides he’s wasted as a goalkeeper, who sees Nick and his left foot and starts picturing him up front, who looks at Joanna and sees the way she’s already five steps ahead of everyone else and thinks right, that’s our captain, then. He’s the one that gives them all feedback, showering Joanna with compliments and Ben with insults, and the one who sits them down and tells them where they need to go and not go, how fast to run and when to dribble and pass, yes, that’s pass, Ben, ever heard of the fucking concept? 

So it’s him that they all listen to, whether it’s nodding quietly or with melodramatic, exasperated sighs (Ben), and it’s him who calls the shots, who says Joanna, you’re captain, or Ben, if you don’t fucking pass me that ball I’m putting you on the bench indefinitely, or, when a new, pretty, blonde boy shows up at their makeshift pitch, who the fuck are you? 

“Michael,” the guy says, holding his hand out. Calum stares at it, and then back at his face. 

“What d’you want?” Michael drops his hand back to his side.

“To play.” 

“We’ve got enough players.” Michael’s eyes flick from Calum to the team, who are gathering behind him, watching what’s going on. 

“You haven’t got one like me.” He sounds so cocksure, so confident, and Calum raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s a player like you?” Michael shrugs. 

“Give me the ball and I’ll show you.” Calum’s grip tightens on the ball in his arm. 

“We don’t need any more players,” he says. 

“Oh?” Michael says. “Is that why you’re still playing on this pitch, and Michi’s got your old one?” There’s a smattering of murmurs from behind Calum, who stiffens, glowering at Michael. 

“Fuck you,” Calum bites out. Michael grins. 

“If you want,” he says, “but then you have to let me on the team.” 

“No,” Calum says. “We don’t need you.” 

“C’mon,” Michael says, and holds his hands out for the ball. “Let me at least show you.” 

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re wasting our practice time.” Michael arches his own eyebrow. 

“Wasting your practice time?” he echoes. “You’ve been practicing every day for weeks. You can take five minutes out of that.” Calum frowns, and his eyes narrow. 

“How d’you know that?” he says. “Have you been stalking us?” Michael stiffens, like he’s been caught out, and his eyes flit from Calum to the ground, a little uncomfortably. 

“That’s not the point,” he says. 

“You’ve been fucking stalking us?” Calum demands. 

“I just want to fucking play,” Michael says. 

“Go fucking play with Michi.” 

“I don’t want to play with Michi,” Michael says. “I want to play with you.”

“Why?”

“Michi’s not as pretty as you.” There’s another few scattered murmurs from behind Calum, who clenches his fist at his side, feeling his cheeks heat up. 

“Fuck off,” he says. “This isn’t a fucking joke. We take this seriously.”

“So do I,” Michael says. “Who says I was joking?” 

“You-” Calum stops himself. You called me pretty, he almost said, forgetting about the other players standing behind him, including his own sister. He turns to them with a scowl, and glares at at least three of them (including Ben). 

“Who said you could stop practicing?” he says. “You all think you’re Messi?” They look at him a little hesitantly, and he raises his eyebrows. “Well?” he demands, and they all start muttering under their breaths, some excuses, some complaints, but one by one they turn and head back to the plastic cones they’ve been doing dribbling drills with. Calum waits until they’re all safely out of earshot, flipping Mali off as she throws him a meaningful look as she jogs away, and then turns back to Michael. 

“Why should I give you a chance?” he says. Michael shrugs. 

“Because I’m a good footballer,” he says. 

“So’s everyone else on this team.” 

“Not as good as me.” 

“Nobody else on the team is as up their own arse as you, either.” Well, except maybe Ben. 

“Then I’ll be bringing that to the team too, won’t I?” Michael says. “What’s a football team without at least one arsehole on it?” Calum stares at him for a moment, takes in the curve of his lips, the dark, inky thickness of his eyelashes, the pretty sea-green of his eyes. 

“We don’t need any more players,” he says again, eventually. Michael grins at him. 

“Then why are you still talking to me?” he says, a little too shrewdly. 

“Why are you still here?”

“Because I want to beat you in a crossbar challenge,” Michael says, and Calum scoffs. He’s never lost a crossbar challenge in his life. 

“You can fucking dream,” he tells Michael, who just smiles, something a little too astute for Calum’s liking in his eyes. 

“D’you want to know what else you’re missing?” Michael says, taking a step closer to Calum. 

“Another way to tell you to get lost?”

“Someone who’ll suck your dick as a consolation prize when you lose a crossbar challenge to him,” he says, and swipes the ball out of Calum’s arm. 

Well, Calum thinks, eyes drawn to Michael’s pink lips, stretched out in a smile. He’s not sure how anyone could say no to that. 

[the-comfy-wildkratt]

Any fics you recommend

Oh absolutely! (also I’m so sorry I forgot to reply to this for like a million years!!)

Misfire  by Jaxopil (ickleronniekins​ here on Tumblr) (Soooo goood!)         Link for FanFiction.net (for those who prefer the site)

Ascending by Usami_chan13 (literally all their WK stuff is delightful)

Distractions by @empress-penguin (another writer who is just amazing)          Link for FanFiction.net

Birds of a Feather by ActualStardustkid (one of my all time favorites!)

Echoes by @holykratt (honestly another all time fave. It’s such a good AU!)

And that’s all I can really think of! I’ve never taken a dedicated dive into FF.net, or really had a good hard look through Tumblr, Wattpad, or any other sites, but several of these are pretty new and really good! I know there’s some amazing older stuff out there, but again, never had the time or dedication to really do some digging.

[theseustempel]

Messerschalter und Maschinenmensch

Wie auf Twitter in einem kleinen Thread dargestellt, ließ bzw. lässt sich die Frage stellen (einerseits aufgrund der zeitlichen Koinzidenz, andererseits aufgrund eines spezifischen Aufrufs des Prothetik-Themas), ob Marshall McLuhan eigentlich Thomas Pynchon gelesen hat. Die zitierte Passage aus Pynchons »V.« (EA 1963, Ü: Dietrich Stössel, Wulf Teichmann) lautet:

»Ein anderer Zeitvertreib Fergus’ war das Fernsehen. Er hatte einen raffinierten Schlaf-Schalter konstruiert, der von zwei Elektroden, die unter der Haut seines Unterarms angebracht waren, gesteuert wurde. Fiel seine Aufnahmefähigkeit unter einen bestimmten Wert, wurde der Hautwiderstand so hoch, daß der Schalter reagierte. Damit war Fergus ein Zusatzgerät des Fernsehapparats geworden.«

McLuhan veröffentlichte ein Jahr danach »Understanding Media. The Extensions of Man«, mit dem die Rede von Freuds »Prothesengott« – »Der Mensch ist sozusagen eine Art Prothesengott geworden« (Das Unbehagen der Kultur, 1930) – in die Zeit nach dem Zweiten Weltkrieg eintreten kann. Die Digitalisierung, die im Ersten Weltkrieg begann, hatte zwanzig Jahre nach dem Ende des WK-Zwo ganz neue Ausmaße erreicht (Stichworte: Codeknacken, Atombombe, die Arbeit an Netzwerken wie das wenige Jahre später entstandene ARPANET [Advanced Research Projects Agency Network] et cetera), das Bild vom Menschen war vielfach neu aufbereitet worden, die Medien und ihre Verbünde wie Zugänglichkeiten und Produktionsbedingungen hatten sich umfassend geändert. McLuhan setzt nun an den Beginn seines »Understanding Media«, nachdem er 1962 die »Gutenberg-Galaxis« (wohl ohne jene Turings zu erahnen) aufgearbeitet hatte, ein Zitat aus der New York Times vom 7. Juli 1957, als James Reston geschrieben hätte:

»Ein Direktor des Gesundheitsdienstes … berichtete diese Woche, daß eine kleine Maus, die vermutlich ferngesehen hatte, ein kleines Mädchen und eine ausgewachsene Katze angegriffen habe … Katze und Maus blieben beide am Leben, und der Vorfall wird hier erwähnt, um daran zu erinnern, daß manche Dinge sich zu ändern scheinen.«

»[...] a reminder that things seem to be changing.« – McLuhan wie schon Reston geben mit dieser in Lücken brillierenden Anekdote (die Kleist und Kafka gefallen hätte, Ecos Lector in fabula nickt…) keinen Aufschluss darüber, weshalb vermutet werden kann, dass die Maus (Micky?) ferngesehen hätte (auch wird nicht geklärt: was eigentlich mit dem kleinen Mädchen geschah). Es geht darum, dass die Dinge sich auf rätselhafte Weise ändern und dies unmittelbar mit Medienkonsum in einem Zusammenhang stünde.

Dies als Nebenverweis – doch gehe es nun um die Prothese, die Pynchon 1963 als eine Art Remote Control entwirft und der er subkutan den Auslöser zuordnet. Dieselbe hat eine analoge Vorstufe – und doch ist in dieser bereits alles für den neuen Automatenmenschen angelegt.

Auf Thomas Pynchons Kurzgeschichte »Under the Rose« (erstmals im Mai 1961 erschienen; dt. »Unter dem Siegel« – in: Spätzünder, Rowohlt, 3. Auflage 2009, Ü: Thomas Piltz) wurde bereits hier hingewiesen, betreffend den vorgetragenen Zusammenhang dieser Begebenheit mit dem Ausbruch des Ersten Weltkriegs. Die Erzählung aus dem Agentenmilieu (die Pynchon um 1900 spielen lässt, mutmaßlich 1898)  ließe gewiss auch zahlreiche Querverbindungen zu Eva Horns  »Der geheime Krieg. Verrat, Spionage und literarische Fiktion« (2007) festmachen, hier und nun sei jedoch die Beschränkung auf eine Pynchoneske Intertextualität und die Entwicklung einer Figur gegeben.

Die beiden gegeneinander operierenden Agenten Porpentine und Bongo-Shaftsbury sind in einem Zugabteil zum Showdown bei den Pyramiden unterwegs, noch gibt man sich friedlich (so sehr die Nerven angespannt sind). Letzterer spricht ein kleines Mädchen auf Puppen an, ob sie die mechanischen kenne:

»›So entzückende Puppen, mit einem Uhrwerk im Inneren. Puppen, die alles ganz perfekt machen, wegen der Mechanik. Überhaupt nicht wie die wirklichen kleinen Jungs und Mädchen. […] Diese Puppen sind viel netter. […] Möchtest du mal eine sehen[?]‹ Allmählich ging es zu weit. Denn der Mann sprach zu Porpentine, er benutzte das Mädchen nur. Aber wozu? Hier war etwas faul. ›Haben Sie denn eine mit?‹ staunte sie, verschüchtert. […] Der lächelte: ›Aber immer!‹ Worauf er einen Ärmel seiner Jacke hochschob und den Manschettenknopf löste. Er begann, den Hemdsärmel hochzukrempeln. Dann schleuderte er seinen Unterarm mit der nackten Innenseite nach oben vor das Gesicht des Mädchens. […] Schimmernd und schwarz gegen das schattenbleiche Fleisch war ein winziger elektrischer Schalter zu sehen, einaderig, zwei Kontakte, säuberlich in die Haut eingenäht. Dünne Silberdrähte liefen von den Anschlußklemmen den Arm hinauf und verschwanden unter dem Ärmel. [/] Die Jugend akzeptiert das Schreckliche oft leichten Herzens. Doch Mildred begann zu zittern. ›Nein‹, sagte sie, ›nein: Sie sind keine Puppe.‹ [/] ›Aber sicher bin ich eine‹, protestierte Bongo Shaftsbury lächelnd, ›Mildred. Diese Drähte führen hinauf in mein Gehirn. Wenn der Schalter so steht wie jetzt, dann handle ich so wie jetzt. Wenn er dagegen umgelegt wird –‹ [/] Das Mädchen schrak zurück. ›Papa‹, rief sie. [/] ›Alles funktioniert elektrisch‹, erklärte Bongo-Shaftsbury mit gleisnerischer Stimme: ›Und es ist einfach – und sauber.‹ [/] ›Schluß damit‹, sagte Porpentine. [/] Bongo-Shaftsbury wirbelte zu ihm herum. ›Aus welchem Grund?‹, flüsterte er. ›Warum? Wegen ihr? Sie sind gerührt von ihrer Angst, stimmt’s? Oder geht es um Euch selbst?‹«

Bongo-Shaftsbury wird Porpentine später (wir schreiben ungefähr 1898 bzw. 1961) liquidieren und in »V.« (ungefähr 1956 bzw. 1963) wieder namentlich auftauchen. Nun aber ist es nicht mehr (wiewohl ganze Passagen wie ein textiertes Echo von »Under the Rose« sich ausnehmen), der an den Drähten hängt, sondern besagter Fergus, wie eingangs zitiert, der mit dem Fernsehgerät unmittelbar verschaltet ist, dass er geradezu »ein Zusatzgerät des Fernsehapparats geworden« ist. Wenn hier nun festgestellt wurde, dass die Geschichte aus 1961 demgegenüber eine deutlicher analoge Vorstufe dieser Schaltung bringt, so ist das natürlich nur bedingt richtig. Immerhin ermöglicht die Vorrichtung dort nur die Inbetriebnahme einer Stichwaffe:

»Er öffnete die Augen, um Bongo-Shaftsbury zu beobachten, der in ein Buch vertieft war: Sidney J. Webbs Industrial Democracy. Porpentine zuckte die Achseln. Vorbei die Zeit, da seine Berufskollegen sich das Handwerk in der Praxis angeeignet hatten: die Geheimcodes kennengelernt hatten, indem sie sie knackten; die Zollbeamten, indem sie ihnen durch die Maschen schlüpften; und manche ihrer Gegenspieler, indem sie sie töten. Die Nachkömmlinge lasen Bücher: junge Bürschchen, vollgestopft mit Theorie und (zu diesem Schluß war er gekommen) einem Glauben an nichts außer der Perfektion ihrer eigenen, inneren Maschinerie. Er zuckte zusammen, erinnerte sich an den Messerschalter, der an Bongo-Shaftsburys Arm befestigt war wie ein bösartiges Insekt.«

– aber de facto erfolgt bereits in der 1898/1961er Shortstory ein Vorgriff auf die Cyborg-Bot-Anspielung des 1956/1963er Romans. Donna Haraway und McLuhan in allen Ehren: die Maschinenmensch-Applikation hat dann jeweils schon begonnen (Schach spielende Türken und mechanische Enten beiseitegelassen – eher schon so etwas).

Im Film kommt die alte Weisheit, dass es gut sei, stets zumindest ein Ass im Ärmel zu haben, Travis Bickle in »Taxi Driver« (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jy-1amAF7Vw ), James Bond in »Moonraker« (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkAV16vxwWk ) oder auch Sex Machine in »From Dusk till Dawn« (wobei der seine Kanone nicht im Ärmel hat: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GVVmNcqVqWI ) bis zu einem gewissen Grad zupass. Bei Pynchon sind es bereits so lautlose wie effektive Verschaltungen, werden Medien und »Theorie« angeschlossen, wird der »Glauben an nichts außer der Perfektion ihrer eigenen, inneren Maschinerie« herausgestellt. Die Auslöser reagieren aufgrund von Körperfunktionen, lange vorbereitet und nunmehr auch technisch funktional. Die Industrial Democracy und die Digitalisierung übernehmen.

Verweise:

1. https://theseustempel.tumblr.com/post/166177035596/bilder-fließbänder-und-formen-der-Ordnung

2. https://theseustempel.tumblr.com/post/166151506491/universalsprache-ii-vernetzung-und-antrieb

3. https://theseustempel.tumblr.com/post/165722490486/aus-der-flasche-in-die-welt

4. https://theseustempel.tumblr.com/post/165721978216/gleichstrom-und-schaltung

[liturgusakrattorum]

I’m scared what was echoes

echoes was an old fic idea i tossed around for a while back in 2017/2018! basically chris starts having trouble with sleepwalking/night terrors around the same time that a giant fissure opens up in the ground in siberia (and later on across the world), and the crew basically goes around to the sources of all the disturbances to find hordes of mythical creatures appearing in their vicinity. the gang eventually learns that the opening of the fissures signals the return of the Ouroboros, a giant world-eating snake that sleeps beneath the earth's crust -- and the reason chris has been having all those nightmares is that he and martin have something to do with it.

unfort it never got very far past its opening chapters and i deactivated my old wk sideblog, so a good majority of the content i made for it is long gone by now. i did post what i had written + a summary of my plans for the story here if you wanna give it a read :p

[cxllingcareless]

echoes / a wild kratts au

guess who went ahead and started writing even though she has like 0 clue of how she’s gonna tackle the rest of the plot lmaooo

a good 98% of my choices rest entirely on impulse decisions i make at 11 pm with a massive headache so here’s the prologue of that thing i’ve been talking about for the past few days :’))

- ECHOES - a wild kratts au / nulla

(Prologue - you are here!!) / (Next Chapter)

“accept the things to which fate binds you, and love the people whom fate brings you together, but do so with all your heart.”

– marcus aurelius

This was the third time this month.

Chris awoke with a start, but when he came to his senses he realized he was not lying in his bed. No warm embrace of the sheets welcomed his goosebumped skin, no familiar sound of his elder brother’s snoring buoyed about the room. In fact, he wasn’t in his room at all; when his bearings were gathered, the younger Kratt found that he was standing at the edge of the Tortuga’s open exit, the cold breezes of the outside world whistling lethargically among a silent, starlit sky.

He was sleepwalking again.

This was the closest he’d ever gotten to actually exiting their base of operations. The first time he snapped out of his daze, he found himself face to face with the bedroom door. The second time found him sprawled out in the middle of the main room. Now, the moonlit Alaskan tundra was the sight that Chris’s hazy eyes were greeted by.

Sounds of faraway wildlife whispered to him as he closed the exit hatch. Warmth swirled around the bitter draft as the door hissed closed.

It was strange; every time he would find himself in this situation, any inkling of what his sleeping body might have been doing would quickly fade away. He’d done a bit of research on the issue in the past, but nothing seemed to be pointing to why this was happening. Nobody in his family had suffered from somnambulism, as far as he knew, and the rest of the Wild Kratts never pointed it out to him, so it was safe to assume that whatever was happening to him was a new occurrence – but what was causing it?

A yawn crawled up Chris’s throat as he shuffled across the main room, ultimately deciding to sink into a chair rather than heading back to bed. He was wide awake by this point, anyhow. Droopy brown eyes trailed up towards the ceiling, where tiny stars twinkled through the giant glass panes. Clouds floated along in thin contrails, weaving between the speckled navy fabric blanketed across the sky. A small exhale hissed through Chris’s nostrils, and he folded his hands over his torso as he settled further into his seat.

It was the same dream, he observed, that would cause him to wake up in the middle of the night like this, standing in the middle of the Tortuga with no memory of how he even ended up that way. The dream itself was vague, but after experiencing it for a third time, the pattern was clear enough: dark caves, claustrophobic tunnels, and a giant something watching his every move.

He never stayed asleep long enough to encounter that looming presence, but the very thought of it was enough to send a sense of awful, inexplicable dread pressing down into his chest. He was mostly dismissive of the whole thing, but a small part of him longed to know more. The dream, however hazy it was to him in the waking world, was vivid enough to capture some sort of interest. After all, dreams shouldn’t be influencing his thoughts as much as this one has.

His head leaned forward and slid off the back of the chair. He wanted to get up and grab his Creature Pod, or a book, or anything else to keep him busy, but his lethargic body made no effort to go anywhere fast. A distant feeling of boredom settled into the back of his mind.

Something in the corner of the room caught his eye. A soft shadow crept across the floor, hugging the molding of the wall as it slithered to its destination. Chris daren’t move, but it was more out of simply not wanting to than out of caution. Possibly just the shadows from the tree, or so he figured. Despite his dismissiveness, however, he just couldn’t shake the feeling that it was more than his imagination.

The shadow mingled with the cradling shade of the machinery and disappeared. No point in worrying about it now.

A slight change in his surroundings prompted Chris’s eyes to glance back upwards. Through the glass panes, the navy blue fabric of the night was receding into lighter hues. Sunrise. The rest of the crew would be waking up soon.

Chris took that as his cue to do something productive. Standing up, he headed to the kitchen, not minding all the cold air he let in.

[cxllingcareless]

yknow sometimes i forget that this whole thing is derived from an educational kids show about animals but here i am, making things 92348234x more dramatic/complex than they probably should be

mmmmm here’s a thing i’m doing :y

idk if it’s ever gonna get off the ground and if it does idk how far into it i’ll get but i’m writing an au yaaaay

usually the first thing i do before i put together any story notes is compile a playlist so i can get a feel of where i wanna take things. this was the end result lmao

i’ll post more details soon uwu

[cxllingcareless]

May I submit a suggestion for a song to add to your Echoes playlist? It's called Beautiful Creatures by Illenium, and I immediately thought of your AU when I heard it

ooohh thank you for bringing this up!! i went ahead and added it uwu it’s a really nice song!!