#Smart Elevators Market

[mmr-14]

The global Smart Elevator market report is a comprehensive analysis of the industry, market, and key players. The report has covered the market by demand and supply-side by segments.

[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - nerdy college miguelito → she/her pronouns!

inspired by this image of him! glasses = smart

He's the sexiest mf with glasses because i said so

So intelligent! As per usual, I see him in an engineering or biochem major. Maybe statistics, or computer science minor. He's a bit of a nerd, the type that is just naturally brilliant; always asking creative questions in class. Babbles to you about his topics as a form of studying/affection; get good grades and keep his partner company.

He seems like the type that can easily learn and reteach information to you. He's a rare case where study dates actually work; you guys get so much work done.

Does that thing where he scrunches his nose to adjust his glasses. "Miguel, you're gonna get wrinkles if you do that." You remark, finishing the last of your Humanities discussion post. "So you do care for me?" Miguel smirks, tapping his pen against the table. "Just saying, you'll look 40 by the time you reach 30."

His Google Calendar is a crowded mess; at least four tasks per day, constant due dates to keep up with, he tries to save time for weekends.

Let's talk fashion! The sweatshirt he has on in the drawing has me on my knees. I'd love him in sweatshirts, straight leg jeans, big black puffer jacket, THOSE HALF-ZIP SWEATSHIRTS SO YOU CAN SEE A LITTLE BIT OF COLLARBONE, compression shirts on lucky days, possibly cargo pants??? Sometimes you guys match fits! If you dress up, he'll understand the assignment.

Carries around a black backpack, just with a laptop and an extra notebook. Hydrates with a HUGE water bottle. Keeps hairties, lip balm, and pain meds around in case you need them. (You do, often.)

College Miggy doesn't seem like the type to participate in Greek Life; he's there to get his education, start a step ahead in his career. Plus, he's too tired to go partying anyway.

It'd be super cute if y'all lived together; a dorm-to-apartment kind of thing. After your relationship's been serious for a while, you move in, sharing a room with Miguel just so you guys can split costs.

Miguel takes early morning classes, I can tell. Greets you on most days with a palm to your stomach, little kisses from behind. He latches onto you for warmth on chillier days, groaning and whining about not wanting to get up in the morning. "Mig, just go to class-" "Mmph, no." Miguel groans, ghosting his lips to the shell of your ear. He shuffles around in the bed, smothering and stealing your body of warmth. "M'cold!" You whine, Miguel's hands sneaking up your shirt.

YOU ARE the passenger princess in this AU, m'kay? (I can't drive-) Miguel, if he is available, will drive you anywhere! Class, mall, farmers market, coffee shop, etc. Ends up just tagging along with you most of the time. You think he's sexy when he's driving (because he is), slots his hand to your upper thigh like it's his birthright.

Most of the time, y'all are in your own little world; no participation in drama, celebrating each other's successes with a trip to a restaurant. Nothing else really matters when you're got both grades and each other to worry about.

Within the rare occasion that you guys share a class, y'all are on the same page. Working together, filling each other in on missing gaps, quizzing each other on tests; its great. Of course, you receive a high A. I feel like he'd be the type to randomly quiz or test you on something in the class. "Prophase vs. Anaphase? You playfully roll your eyes, continuing to stir your coffee.

Where do y'all think he'd work? I'd say paid internship or somewhere tech-y ykwim? He wouldn't really work at a cafe or campus store.

Oh my gosh what if he was rich!!!!! What if he spoils you with good food and well-thought out date nights? Elevating your relationship as a couple <333 WHAT IF HE PAYS YOUR TUITION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Ugh best man best man

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[jamneuromain]

I have an idea omg. We need more of Lloyd and reader... What about a situation when Lloyd got injured, like he kicked someone's ass , got his knuckles bleeding, or maybe he got a cut or smth... and the reader though she's aware of her blood-seeing problem ofc decided to help him, trying to fight her hemophobia best she could because Lloyd needed her help. Or it can be quite the opposite, the reader got hurt in some way, bleeding a bit, and Lloyd decided to help her because he knows her reaction to seeing blood and all. What do you think?😬☺

Hi Elena😌❤️ （sorry that it took so long I accidentally deleted my draft ... and took very long to recover from the devastating fact :l

Your "Lloyd got hurt" idea certainly is very interesting....👀

So, what would happen if Lloyd got hurt and he has no one else to turn to but his secretary with hemophobia...🤔

Bleed Out

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader (Driver!Denny Carmicheal), Graphic Depiction of Blood and Violence (I guess Lloyd is a warning of his own?), Reader has hemophobia (fear of blood), a lot of cursing.

Summary: Lloyd is under your protection for now.

A/N: This is the sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love to Mob!Lloyd<333

One thing, one particular feature you like about the apartment you're living in, is that this little condo - along with the rest of the building and five other blocks in the vicinity, belongs to a high-end resident community that has strict security guard patrol schedules and limited key-card access. These precautions resulted in rocket-high market prices and a rather wealthy neighborhood, as the owner of these buildings forbids renting, for every keycard that could access the front gate, elevators, and their matching apartments, accompanied by facial recognition embedded in the little chip. When you get home every night (or afternoon, if you are lucky), you have to press your keycard and stand before the camera before the gate grants you inside. This brings quite some comfort for you, working for a mob boss named Lloyd Hansen, and knowing that his associates are basically "wanted" by rival gangs for the valuable information they possess.

While it is impossible that you could afford such an exquisite apartment with your salary, though very well-paid, you are truly grateful because Lloyd signed this condo - his condo - to you without a word (or asking a dime from you) when you told him during your final interview that you will be needing a week to relocate before starting the job.

That's when you made up your mind that Lloyd Hansen is a boss worthy to work for.

It's not a big place. Having two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Decorated in white, black, and grey, clearly matching Lloyd's taste when he asked his lawyer to give you the key card and have you move in.

You've lived here for three years now. Adding soft cushions and light-colored sets to the tedious design here and there. Like the sunflower tablecloth and daisy plates and bowls. Like the pink polka dot sheets and duvet covers. And the fluffy slippers, taken out from the cabinets, ready to be put on as soon as fuzzy socks don't work their magic any more.

You are finishing washing the mug you just used. After putting it on the racks, you wipe your hands with a clean cloth. It is a workday tomorrow, and you intend to sleep early to wake up with a fresh spirit to deal with your (sometimes) moody boss. Treating yourself to a nice little read in the bedside lamp radiating yellow glow - another decoration that you feel much needed for this place, you reach out to turn off the lamp when there's a sudden rush of knock on your door.

You zip your mouth shut.

The news two weeks ago, about a woman who was curious about the baby crying at her door, was yanked out of her apartment as soon as she opened the door, being raped and killed in her own bed.

You are smart enough not to ask "Who is it", letting this unexpected guest learn that a young female is at home.

When the unexpected visitor doesn't hear your reply, they knock on the door more fiercely, nearly knocking your heart out of your throat.

You remember the tutorial online: Approach the door with caution, and check the surveillance camera. If there's no one in sight, call the cops. If there's anything out of the ordinary, like a baby or a kitten by the door, call the cops.

In summary, call the cops.

Your fingers hover above your phone, having the police number on speed dial, when you turn on the surveillance camera monitor by the door.

A very bruised, cut, and tired Lloyd, having a gun in his hand, banging on your door as he winces in pain.

"Goodness gracious-" Your gasp gets stuck in your throat. Opening the door in an instant, there's nothing else in your mind than keeping him alive. Your goosebumps on high alert as Lloyd's eyes scan over you. You pull him in, checking that the hallway is secure, before closing the heavy door as quietly as possible.

You turn to him, "Mr. Han-" Your words stop mid-sentence as you feel the need to fight the bile down your throat.

Yes. Mr. Hansen is very much covered in the one thing you hate most in the world.

Blood.

Blood splattered on his chest, his ridiculous choice of the blue-white striped polo shirt and cuts littered over his face and bare arms. His pants are dripping. Some crimson-colored liquid will stick permanently onto your floor and your beloved carpet.

Redness, some stained into near-brown, all over his figure.

You hold your breath, not letting the iron taste linger to make matters worse.

Lloyd walks, more like limps to each of your rooms - now that you can breathe a little while the blood smell is gone temporarily, and convince yourself that it's just ketchup on your boss (though you doubt that trick works) - and inspects each of them with his finger on the gun's trigger.

Taking in the whole situation, three things pop into your mind.

Lloyd is in desperate need of medical attention.

You are most likely to faint as soon as he returns, seeing this amount of blood.

Lloyd wouldn't knock on your door if this isn't desperate for him as well.

As Lloyd approaches, you are wrecking every brain cell to work a way out of this.

" 'S anyone here?" He asks, pulling the safe of his gun back on, before plopping down on your couch and groaning because he most definitely pulls one or two, if not a few of his wounds.

However, one of THE most brilliant ideas comes to you when you are holding your breath.

You shake your head, raising one finger to tell him you need a moment - or you hope that your running off conveys the message, and dash towards your bathroom.

Lloyd sags down on the couch, not even bothering to get up or turn his head to watch whether you've pulled out a gun pointing at him. You probably wouldn't do so, since you chose to pull him in, instead of letting him bleed out by your door.

When you appear in front of him again, his body briefly stuns a moment, before emerging in a burst of full-blown laughter. He laughs so hard that his laughter turns into coughs, which leads to him pressing his hand over his chest in case he tears his wounds further.

You place your hands on your hips. Compared to him, you are least amused by your idea.

You smoothed your hair back and put on your scuba diving goggles from a paid leave last year. Lloyd personally oversaw your two-week vacation, paying from your hotel suite to your travel expenses, and even ordering you full scuba diving equipment for your one-hour scuba lesson.

Of course, you weren't actually interested in becoming an expert, but the scuba equipment was too nice to be thrown away.

"Not funny." You breathe through your mouth. Even though the orange plastic - or glass, you don't quite know which - changes how the bloody Lloyd looks in your eyes, it still doesn't completely change the idea that Lloyd is, in fact, covered in blood, as much as you don't want to think about it. And it definitely doesn't block the smell of blood, which probes the nerves at the back of your nose whenever you breathe through your mouth.

Lloyd scans your "outfit", his laughter slowly dials down, eventually turns into a lazy smile ghosting his lips, "You're right. It's not."

It's over 10:30 pm, and you usually would have been sleeping, or lying on your bed, at least. But no, you are stuck in the living room with your boss who's about to die any minute, and you are only able to stand in front of him, alive and thinking, with a fucking scuba mask on.

So, fuck this.

You roll your eyes at your cold-blooded boss. "Should I call your doctor? Or send you to the hospital?"

The smirk disappears.

Although he didn't say "no" to the hospital, by now you've realized the hospital choice was crossed off the board, as he chose you instead of ringing the police - which will no doubt lead to an investigation since Lloyd is the most notorious mob in Los Angles.

You search for the first aid bag that you stocked away when you moved in. It has rarely been used.

"Doc's dead." He murmurs, but loud enough for you to understand. He spoke with a sadness that only appears when he has lost one of his people. "I took Jared to his clinic."

You know Jared, he is one of the muscles working for Lloyd. He helped take care of one of Lloyd's rivals, Brewer.

"The deal with the Russian mobs tonight went wrong, but we got out in one piece." Lloyd explains curtly, "I got him to Doc's place to get stitched up. But we were attacked... Doc died, so did Jared."

So... two of his people.

Medical alcohol and Q-tips were picked from the bag, then a roll of gauze. You place those on the coffee table.

"I think you need something bigger than a Q-tip." He chuckles, unbuckling his belt, removing his pants. You open your mouth wanting to argue it's probably best that he doesn't move right now, but you silence yourself when you see a flesh wound -

Blood trickles down his thigh, leaving a scorched round hole on his leg. You turn your head to the other side as soon you feel the need to hurl. Even with your goggles on, deep down, you know that it's blood, not ketchup, nor some red paint oozing from his body.

“Don’t puke on my shoes. Crocodiles died for it.” A strangled grunt comes out of his mouth when he finished speaking, having your heart tug in the slightest of agony.

The belt he took off just now is turned into an instant tourniquet on his thigh. The blood drips slower than it did, but it keeps ruining your carpet.

“Yeah, I bet the crocodile spirits hate you right now.” You mutter under your breath, snatching a face mask from the first-aid kit, taking a small inhale after you put it over your face.

Much, much better now.

Lloyd snorts out a short laugh, “You look like one of those bird-man in the Middle Ages when they are battling the plague.”

“Yeah well,” You place your hand on your hips, feeling somewhat braver to deal with this bloody mess all over your living room, “You’re about to bleed out on my couch, so let’s start with you telling me what else I can help with.”

Lloyd spares a glance at you when he’s busy rolling the gauze and pressing it onto his gunshot wound, his expression uninterpretable. Though you would guess that he is mildly impressed.

“Got any liquor? Something strong?” He raises his brows almost challengingly, “I don’t see any painkillers here, so … Bourbon? Whiskey? Scotch? Anything?”

You do have a bottle of whiskey that your cousin gave to you when you moved in. He’d come to visit and lend a helping hand from time to time. You take two glasses from the cupboard and half a bottle of whiskey.

You could use some liquid courage with a murder scene and your psycho boss in the middle of this lovely condo.

With the aid of whiskey and your patching and cleaning of the rest of the wounds, Lloyd is able to sleep through the night soundly without worrying about being a rigid corpse in the morning.

Yawning, and accidentally stretching his patched-up wounds, he allows a string of curses to flow out of his lips. Judging by the sunlight peeking through your curtains, he’d say it’s 9 or 10 in the morning. Last night, he was tired when the adrenaline gradually faded away, and he did not have the chance to take a close look at your – used to be his – place.

You did not put this place through any major changes, just some minor traces, reminding him that he is, in a sense, invading this cozy little apartment with his banged-up body.

With a decent set of fresh suit, shirt, and tie on the chair beside the bed.

Faint murmurs come from the other side of the door, Lloyd tenses up immediately, pulling his gun under the pillow, where he stocked last night, and turns the doorknob slowly.

“… shut up.” He hears you smack someone’s arm jokingly.

Your voice blends in with the voice in his memory of last night, when he winced in pain as you tried to take out glass shards from his forehead with a pair of tweezers, when he swung another gulp of whiskey from the bottle.

“Fucking hell, woman, I swear you’re trying to scoop my brains out rather than finding the glass pieces.” He grumbled.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you out, Mr. Hansen. Now I’m kindly asking you to shut up so I can take care of your wounds before it could get any worse.” You said impatiently, having struggled between the discomfort in your stomach and your determination to get him patched up, but adjusted your attitude soon after, keeping your mouth shut and pushing his upper body so he would lean on the couch and be still, while you turned on the flashlight to search the little glass piece on his forehead.

The warm and shallow breath fell on the ridge of his nose. It was broken, sure, tingling and itching, but it also meant that you were close, close enough to kiss-

“Cuz, are you sure that-”

The male voice is cut off when Lloyd in a black suit appears in front of you and a young man. One of his hands behind his back, you know far too well he’s holding the gun and will shoot your cousin’s brain out if you don’t explain quickly.

“Morning Mr. Hansen. This is my cousin, Connor Ashborne, studying at UCLA Med School.” You smile politely towards your boss, “I called for him to check up on you, since you refused to go to any doctor with a gunshot wound. He’s here to provide professional medical assistance.”

“Mr. Hansen,” the young man extends his hand for Lloyd to shake, “I’ve heard of a lot of things about you.”

“Lots of bad things, I hope.” Lloyd throws in a comment half-sarcastically, plopping himself down on the couch, ignoring your cousin’s extending hand, “Shit.” When he stretches his wounds again, the gauze must have clotted with his flesh for this level of pain.

“Cuz?” Conner turns his choice to your hand, “It’s your call. I can’t force your boss to do anything.”

“Yeah, me neither.” You mutter, “He’s more stubborn than a bull with eyes on the red flag.”

“Careful there, sunshine.” Lloyd gulps down some whiskey, numbing the pain in his thigh, “I can hear ya’ loud and clear.”

You silently shrugged towards your cousin, letting him know that you could not be of help any more than he did. “You should probably head to your classes.” You speak softly towards Connor, “Say hi to your sister for me, will you?”

“Sure thing, cuz. Remember those antibiotics and pain meds for the... patient in the kit.” He pulls you into a hug, “No need to thank me, I know, I'm one of a kind.”

Yeah, he's a one-of-a-kind dick when he wants to be. You can't help but smile knowing that his ego bloated after coming to your aid.

“I’ll see you around Christmas, yeah?”He asks.

“Around Christmas.” You confirm, patting his back.

Connor shoots you a wink and a “Bye, cuz”, grabbing the bicycle helmet on the kitchen counter and rushing out of your apartment like a gust of wind.

"A-hem." Lloyd clears his throat.

You let out a long exhale, realizing the big problem-o is still sitting on the couch like he owns this place – he indeed still does, as you have helped combing through his real estate. He owns the whole residential community – more specifically, has a lot of shares in the company which runs this residence, at the very least. Putting your best, and most professional courtesy on, you ask Lloyd, “I’ve called Denny earlier this morning. He’s now driving around the block. Denny has driven to your place and picked up the usual breakfast from your cook. Should I call him and tell him to come up? Or you’d like to head to the office right now?”

“Tell him to come up. I’ve been shot. It seems fair to skip work this morning.” Lloyd has the usual smug smile on his face. Stepping into his crocodile shoes onto the floor, spreading his arms over the couch, he looks down at the ground before narrowing his eyes and raising a sharp question: “You’ve had the carpet thrown out?”

Of course, you’ve had the carpet thrown out. Or you would throw up five times per hour.

You thought so when carrying the blood-soaked carpet downstairs, after making sure Lloyd was asleep around midnight. As his secretary, it is your job to make sure he doesn’t have to worry about anything besides his business.

You carried the carpet downstairs, avoiding cameras as carefully as possible, with your ridiculous scuba goggles and face mask on, and dumped the carpet, into another residence trash can two blocks further. With his blood and his scent on it, it is easy to lure those henchmen away if they bring hounds to search for Lloyd.

Lloyd does not go down without a fight, that you were certain. You were also certain of the fact that the transaction gone wrong would make relative parties involved less than happy, hence the ambush at Doc’s place. If they struck once, it seemed possible that they would strike again, knowing that Lloyd was hurt.

Also packing hydrogen peroxide, a powerful bleach, and a pack of Q-tips with you, you carefully erased the traces of Lloyd’s blood from the street to your residence building, and inside the elevator.

“Miss Y/L/N!” The security guard exclaimed on seeing you back inside the building. He was smart enough not to comment on you pulling your scuba goggles and face mask off, but smiled warmly, “A rough night?”

You smile back, “Hi Henry. I hate to pull ranks on you, Henry, I really do. But in less than ten minutes you are going to get a call from your boss, who has gotten a call from his boss, asking you to do exactly what I tell you to, which is to make a copy of the surveillance footage of the security cameras, and delete the original copy stored in the computers stored somewhere in this building. You are also going to tell me whether anyone has dropped by when your shift ends this morning, who looks suspicious, asking questions even though they don’t live here.”

The smile froze on Henry’s face, “Miss Y/L/N, it’s against the company orders…”

Just then, the phone on Henry’s desk rang, which Henry took the minute it made a sound.

The smile turned to a serious frown.

“…Yes. Yes, Sir. I’ll see to it.” He hung up the phone after a polite “Good night”, straightening his security guard uniform, and moved around the desk, “This way, Ma’am.”

After burying your head in the toilet bowl and throwing up almost half an hour ago, you had used your cell phone and called Lloyd's business partner up ahead, told him that Lloyd had issued a command to erase surveillance camera footage of a specific building and asked to keep a copy.

His business partner, hauled up from his bed because of this phone call in the middle of the night, knew better than to refuse.

… and that was why the Russian mob drove through the block later that morning at 1 a.m. and did not find a trace of Lloyd taking shelter in your condo after circling the area for quite some time.

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading

Find A Whiff of Blood Masterlist here 👈

Questions? Comments? Requests? 👉Send them to my inbox 👂

[salternateunreality2]

Snippets from an AGSZC AU, where Cloud gets stolen by Hojo early on

From the @strayheartless archives <3

CW: mentions of prostitution (not among the guys, not graphic)

Cloud got disappeared by Shinra into the labs, and AGSZC was a thing beforehand. 

—--

Cloud manages to get out on his own, single mindedly focused on making it to Genesis and Sephiroth to tell them about degradation and Jenova, but only getting as far as Zack's apartment before his legs give out, falling into the closed door with a thunk.

Kunsel, who lives next door, hears him and comes out in time to see Cloud try to crawl to the elevator since Zack isn't home. He doesn't recognize Kunsel when he tries to help, shoving him away and saying "Gen" over and over again...or is it "Jen"? 

Kunsel alerts the group and they're there in a flash. Cloud does recognize Sephiroth and Genesis, but when he speaks, it's so garbled that they don't understand. 

Finally, mission accomplished (in his addled mind), dripping mako, wearing paper-thin scrubs, Cloud passes out. 

The next day, Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth were scheduled to use the training room for a spar; instead, they're with Cloud.

—-

Cloud, for many weeks or months after, is highly susceptible to Sephiroth's will. Sephiroth is holding him in the car that Kunsel is driving away from Midgar, wishing Cloud would rest, and he loses consciousness so hard and so fast that they panic and pull over, setting up the portable monitors they stole and waiting in tense silence until Cloud's breathing and pulse regain some strength.

When Sephiroth hears from the doctor in Wutai (where they defected) that there's a chance Cloud will never walk on his own again, Sephiroth's wish that he would be able to is so strong that Cloud gets up and tries to walk, injuring himself.

Genesis is the first to figure out what's happening, thanks to Cloud and Kunsel's Intel, and hints Sephiroth has dropped over the years about Hojo’s experiments, and takes Sephiroth aside. Seph feels so, so guilty. He's quiet and shaking, flinching when Genesis reaches a hand to his shoulder.

—-

Kunsel helps train Cloud to resist Sephiroth’s influence while the others are sent away; after all, he went through intensive Turk training to resist torture and manipulation. Sephiroth feels Cloud's distress and difficulty and has to be held back from running home immediately to make Kunsel stop.

Distance makes the bond weaker, so it's important he stays as far away as is reasonable, so Cloud can get used to it gradually. But it hurts. It hurts both of them. Sephiroth wants to run away entirely, but the instant that desire crosses his mind while talking to Genesis, Cloud screams from the other room in physical pain.

—

They know about degradation beforehand, thanks to Cloud and Kunsel, and they know the cure will involve Genesis and Angeal being given S-cells, which will connect the two of them to Sephiroth just like Cloud. So they take the Turk training from Kunsel too, now with Cloud’s help since he’s gone through it.

At least Angeal and Genesis do the Turk training before they're connected, which helps, but it's still excruciating sometimes, for all parties. Angeal, Genesis, and Cloud are in physical pain often as they work out how to resist Sephiroth’s pull, and Sephiroth feels so guilty over everything and has to concentrate on not letting his feelings get the better of him.

Zack is a rock for Sephiroth, and Genesis becomes jealous of this sometimes. That used to be HIM, but it's so much harder these days to use his silver tongue on someone with so much influence over him. Sephiroth doesn't believe him NEARLY as easily, because he has a better sense of when Gen is unsure and trying to comfort him vs. actually confident.

—-

Kunsel’s mom was a highly influential prostitute from Wall Market. It’s where he got his cunning and street smarts, and her beauty is part of why he wears the helmet, to shield everyone's eyes from his handsome face. Nobody believes him when he tells them, for some reason, but he privately thinks it’s funny when the guys are cussing him out during Turk training.

Angeal: SON OF A WHORE! 

Kunsel: Yeah, her name is Destiny and she is the hottest and most influential whore in Wall Market, you'd like her. Now sit down.

Genesis: FUCK YOU! 

Kunsel: No, that's mom's thing. Now take a deep breath.

—--

Cloud is the first to figure out he can communicate on some level with Angeal and Genesis too, and they lean heavily on his mental fortitude while he leans on their physical strength, still weak from the experimentation.

Meanwhile, Sephiroth's in the next town over, looking like the saddest wet cat ever while Zack babysits him. 

Sephiroth: Are they rejecting me? They're quiet right now, do they hate me?

Zack: Nah, man, they're practicing so you'll feel better! 

Yuffie: HI WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE A WET CAT AND SMELL LIKE GRADE-A MAKO?! 

Zack: Oh no! The great ninja Yuffie! 

Sephiroth: ????????

—-

Zack takes Kunsel to meet Yuffie to help him de-stress. On 95% of people, this would not work, but Kunsel's deepest loves are chaos and information, both of which Yuffie has in abundance.

Yuffie: SNEAK ATTACK! 

Kunsel: *dodges* *holds up a can of spray paint* *sends a secret code message with his eyebrows* 

Yuffie: fuck. Yeah. *sends a secret message back*

Both of them turn to face Zack, and he feels a sudden terror deep in his puppy bones.

—-

Cloud's trying to relearn how to walk and the chaos twins show up to heckle him. Angeal, Genesis, and Sephiroth are about to get Very Mad when Zack shakes his head and whispers "wait". Zack understands that Cloud STRIFE does really well when he has something to fight against, and by the end of the session, he's made some big strides in order to give Yuffie and Kunsel what they deserve.

Yuffie: *steals one of Cloud's crutches* 

Cloud: FUCK YOU *gains the energy to hobble angrily after her where he didn't have it before*

Then Cloud is sore for days because he pushed so hard, and Kunsel and Yuffie are sore for days because they harassed the chocobo and he got revenge.

—-

Cloud doesn't like being helpless. He doesn't. He doesn't like having to lean on someone or be carried around in their big, warm arms. He doesn't like them softly petting his hair or massaging his aching muscles. 

He hates being waited on and feels totally, definitely, for sure smothered when they cuddle him for hours at a time. Definitely. Super hates it, when their arms surround him, when he can no longer feel the gooey mako because he feels their breath instead. 

He doesn't fall asleep, incredibly content, in Angeal's lap at dinner, or on Zack's back as they go out for fresh air, or bridal carried by Sephiroth on the deck of a ship, or under Genesis' arm in bed as Gen sings softly. Of course not.

He's way too tough for that, he's not soft at all, or he wouldn't have made it out all on his own to find them. If he let himself sink into weakness, he might not be able to get up again.

—-

Then Sephiroth listens in on these thoughts, and tells the others, who then remind Cloud that he CAN be weak, at least with them, and that it's ok. Would Cloud fault Sephiroth for crying? Or Genesis for being unable to get up when he was going through S-cell influence withdrawal? Or Angeal for yelling when his heart was being broken during Turk training? Or Zack for needing to be hugged and told he was doing a great job? No? Then shut the fuck up and let your boys cuddle you, you prickly bird.

@heraldofcrow sorry this took a hot minute because I had to pick gifs!

[lee-sanghyeok]

The ingenuity of the SAND SOUND X BOYNEXTDOOR collaboration

We have to talk about this collaboration. Because it's actually amazing. First of all, Sand Sound is a Korean streetwear, everyday brand that's mostly known in Korea. They don't have a big international reach. Secondly, it's affordable and they've always had playful marketing targeted to teens and young adults like BOYNEXTDOOR.

This is why this collaboration is perfect. It would make no sense if BOYNEXTDOOR were to model for a luxury brand. They're the boys next door—posing in a 1000 euro shirt wouldn't exactly evoke that feeling. KOZ is smart to let them start with a Korean streetwear brand. It's relatable and accessible: two key words they often use to describe their group and concept.

While I'm unsure if big brands have reached out to them, KOZ could've easily tried themselves. Someone like Sungho could surely be added to the roster of idols that promote Tommy Hilfiger. But instead, they stayed true to their concept and vision for the group. It's commendable.

As they age and their fandom grows with them, they'll be able to elevate to bigger brands if they wish to do so. My hope is that they'll stick with smaller brands though; independent brands from Korea and/or Japan that share or are in line with BOYNEXTDOOR's identity.

[shioritsumi]

Took me long enough to get to Bingge but he deserves his own post....

-Bingge knew the modern world would be different, but the technology is much easier for him to grasp than he'd thought and a lot of functions of daily life are simple or hardly changed at all. Society, however...it hasn't changed, exactly. Shen Tianyu talks about his divorce and Bingge has to get reminded inflicting random violence upon people isn't legal. "I'm disappointed too, man, but we both have to live with it."

-Bingge needs time to adjust to not being a demon lord and instead just being a tall muscular citizen. Blending into human society isn't something he has recent experience with, and he has to re-learn it.

-Shen Tianyu lives in a penthouse apartment, and Bingge still isn't certain if he likes having to take the elevator so often just to get in and out of the home. "Did you make your kid do this every day?" "Xiao-jiu isn't old enough for school yet, and this was my second home anyways-I stayed here when i couldn't go home since it's much closer to work. Now it's just....home, I guess. What else did you want?"

-Every time Tianyu talks about his marriage, Bingge gets sad. He managed to become demon lord of his realm, he knows what it's like to rule....but Tianyu talks about things as though despite everything he's had very little control over his own life. He loves his son but he didn't personally choose to have kids. He was "strongly encouraged" to go into business, rather than choosing it willingly. Bai Lianhua pursued him first, not the other way around. The more popular a person or competitive the market, the more easily Shen Tianyu could be compelled to join the race for it. Bai Lianhua effectively convinced him to court her by reminding him frequently lots of guys were after her but she was there with HIM.

Bingge is quick to realize this means Tianyu has done very little for himself in his own life. Which sets him about trying to seduce Tianyu in a strange complicated reasoning that he wants Tianyu to choose him of his own free will and not just because he's the all-powerful demon lord lusted over by countless women. How does one court a competitive man with crippling depression when you are the most desirable bachelor in a stallion novel?

(by the way, Tianyu likes Bingge bc he hears all his trauma and just laughs and goes 'mine is worse'. It's like his friendship with Shang Qingshui but better because Bingge knows when to stop.)

-Bingge ends up reading PIDW and is of the opinion the author has never had sex with a woman. Shang Qingshui can vouch for this, and Shen Tianyu thinks they should both think before they open their mouths.

-Bingge ends up finding all the Luo Binghe merchandise and doesn't know how to respond. "It belonged to my brother, but after he died....I dunno, it's a little like still having him around, since he cared about these things so much. My sister has the other half of his collection if you want to see it." Bingge is extra confused and he just inspects the merch because what even IS this. Some of the figures are fully sculpted in every way....EVERY way. His brother BOUGHT these? With his own money? "Well yeah, you were his favorite. I don't blame him."

-The more Bingge is told about Shen Yuan, the more confused he gets. His siblings describe him as smart, with a photographic memory, and decent looks "but he's definitely related to us". Bingge is absolutely concerned by this one. Hanjun seems to be the only sibling with his shit together properly, having started his own nutrition company and doing quite well. They're all possessed of a dark sense of humor, a sharp tongue, and a tendency to get hyperfixated on fictional characters. So what does this mean about the recently deceased Shen Yuan? "Oh come on, I bet you'd like him if you met him!" Bingge.....isn't sure of this.

-fun possible scenario popping up when Hanjun invites both Bingge and Tianyu to his wedding. Bingge swears he's not a maiden, but he definitely stresses out the most about being invited to a wedding for his boyfriend's family like they're a legit real couple and they NEED to make a good impression ("like we're a legit real couple? Bing-er, we ARE a real couple, stop stressing" "NO" ) they need to wear the right clothes, they need to bring the right gift do they need a sword because he has swords.

-Shen Jiuyuan and Bingge have to talk about it once the truth comes out to Bingge. For the longest time they aren't sure HOW to talk about it, and Jiuyuan doesn't want his new dad to know. They can't act like they don't have history, especially history as bad as it is. But this is a brand new life for Shen Jiu, and he has a father who loves and dotes on him endlessly, constantly apologizes when he's wrong and doesn't lecture him overly long when he's rude or violent. (Tianyu recalls being a difficult child himself, and currently figures the attitude and violent issues are just a result of being related to him-Shen Yuan was probably the only Shen son who didn't have a similar childhood and that was the result of having two older brothers.)

They may not necessarily like each other, but they love Tianyu, and he loves them. Over time they learn to tolerate each other and even share a few moments. Bingge is just mildly confused as to how going to a completely different world to find a new better shizun turned into karmic retribution for killing his own shizun. How did things work OUT like this?!?

-Bingge being prepared to hear about Tianyu's childhood full of soft comforts and spoiled luxury and instead he's told about a mostly ordinary upbringing because his family wanted to foster responsibility in their kids. (although they did always have good things and vacations and whatnot available) And Tianyu's stories of his childhood are most stories about being an absolute gremlin when he was a kid. "One time Hanjun had to fish me and A-Qing out of the river, alongside six other people because turns out that peg was important and i got grounded for two weeks." "I threw a snake at Qingshui's head once. We were ten, and in my defense he told my crush Mianmao i had 'snake eyes' so it was karma. He got bitten and i was suspended for a week." Tianyu just pointing to a super tall building and being like "I jumped off that when i was 15."

Turns out his new shizun was an unhinged child, and the only reason Shen Yuan wasn't is because Hanjun had already witnessed it previously and made sure Yuan didn't even have ACCESS to the most unhinged experiences Tianyu made for himself. Bingge silently wonders how he did indeed find someone to match his freak so perfectly, on ACCIDENT.

[konigsprinzessin]

donnerkeil. part four, yandere!könig x reader

hi! i’m back! please like and reblog! also this was only edited once so if there’s any mistakes let me knowwwwww!

it was unfortunate that everything was closed. he offered kindly to take you out that afternoon to learn more about each other although the realization that it was sunday made him feel like an idiot. his plan to continue the rest of the day with you was interrupted as quite literally- nothing was open. the shops and restaurants closed. he wasn’t going to invite you into his apartment yet, he didn’t want you to think he was insane and/or trying to prey upon you. 

he didn’t think he was insane. just someone with a lot of emotions.

maybe.

he held your basket in his hands walking by your side yet slightly trailing behind you, following your lead. you were making you way back to your apartment, knowing the tall man was following beside you. you were deciding whether or not to invite the man you just met not more than an hour ago into your living space, into your space, into your apartment. the fact that you couldn’t make your mind was eating you up with stress and anxiety. 

he seemed kind enough but you were from a place were the meaning of “stranger danger” was more severe and realistic compared to the small austrian countryside. everyone knew each other here and looked after each other, both the young and the old. walking besides you was the behemoth of a man. you could only imagine the looks on the little old ladies’ faces as your small frame was accompanied by the almost 7 foot giant, especially with how sweet and lovingly he was treating you. as well as him holding your little basket filled with fruits and other items from the market. 

“are you here for work?” he questioned. 

“school. i go to university of vienna.” you chirped. a certain “bounce” in the tone of your voice. 

“and what will you study?” he inquired. you were unable to see the smile forming on his scarred lips.

“i’m not too sure yet, i’m thinking something with science or health. for a while i wanted to be a teacher.” you giggled, letting a sigh escape from your parted lips.  

“wow, you’re so smart then.” you felt a light blush cast over your cheeks because of his compliment. 

“and you? which university do you go to” you asked, turning your head to look up at him. könig was such a fitting name for him. you were still in belief over his height yet his calm and nice personality. he was soft spoken around you, in his line of work he would bark orders at men not that much older than you and slaughter men with guns twice your size. 

“uh i’m not a student anymore. i’m apart of the police? i think is how you say it?” he laughed in embarrassment, his voice was higher pitched clearly manipulating his voice to make it seem like his english skills were much more duller than what they actually were. könig had men deployed from america and other english speaking countries and put just as much fear into them as what he did the native german speaking recruits. you were too perfect to find out he was a colonel, a military man, a murderer. 

“oh my, what type of policework do you do? i know its a lot different from what the policework is like back home. but i’ve never met an officer before.” 

“nothing happens here but if a fight happens or if there’s loud music i deal with that. nothing too crazy.” he followed as you turned right on the cobblestone sidewalk, he let you walk on the slightly elevated sidewalk while he trailed right besides you on the side of the road. by no means was it a busy street so there was no reason to be worried about speeding cars. you saw your terracotta coloured apartment and stopped outside the brown oak door. könig quickly caught on that the door behind you was yours, and that led to your house. you led him to it without a second thought, no doubts in your mind that he could be dangerous at all- to you he was a gentle giant. you had let him right to the place you felt most safe in. all he had to do was wait for you to open that door and he could rush you. throw that stupid fucking basket on the floor. hold his hand over your mouth, threaten you and tell you that you’re coming with him. tell you that you’re never going to see that room again and you’d drop out of school as soon as you were settled in his apartment. which wasn’t too far for someone who was familiar with the area but it was far enough for a foreigner to get lost. 

“ah.” he trailed, handing you the basket. you held the straw handle within your fingers. his hand quickly brushed upon yours but that didn’t make him falter- not yet at least. he decided then it wouldn’t be the best time to attack you in mid-morning plus you needed to gain his trust just a little bit more. 

funny how within those few hours he figured that you’d make the perfect wife for him. all you need is him and all he needs is you.

“i’m sorry, i would invite you in but my flat is a mess.” you laughed, rubbing your arm in shame. “i can give you my number though! if you want it that is.” you looked back up at him with the most angelic smile könig had ever seen. he is the reason why you were smiling so wide. you were too perfect for this cruel world, too innocent to know what he does for work and too precious to know the thoughts and fantasies crowding his mind. 

[ghostofaboy]

Risky Business

Pairing: Max Lord/Male OC Rating: Explicit. Seriously, over 18s only. Word count: 2252

Summary: Max finds himself in the men's room at the office when he spots something interesting… a glory hole

Warnings: Oral sex, public blow job, come eating, a little bit of internalized homophobia

Note: This has not been beta read so I apologize for any mistakes.

The meeting was dragging, and Max was on the verge of losing his temper. It was bad enough that it had started over an hour late due to a miscommunication with the marketing department, but now it was overrunning due to one overeager junior executive. The guy was clearly angling for a promotion, and on some level Max respected that, but boring your bosses was not a smart move. Hansen… Harmen… Herman… whatever his name was, had been speaking for forty-five minutes now about… something…

Max had no idea, truthfully, he’d started tuning him out after only ten minutes. By this point, the young man had completely screwed himself. Any point he’d hoped to make could have been made a long time ago. Glancing around the table, all Max could see were glazed-over eyes and a couple of the older execs gently snoozing. 

While this was a waste of time, the bigger issue troubling Max was that the longer this went on, the more uncomfortable he was becoming. He needed to pee. He’d needed to pee for about an hour. He had his legs firmly crossed under the table and had stopped sipping on his water, but the problem wasn’t going to go away.

“...there is a clear link between-”

“I’m going to need to interrupt you there.” Max cut him off, finally reaching his limit. “You make some excellent points, but we’re running over here. Put everything in a report, and I promise you, I’ll look it over.”

“Sir, I-”

“It’s getting late.” Max locked eyes with the young man, his tone turning a little firmer. “Put a report together and send it to me.”

“I… yes, Sir.”

The sigh of relief from the rest of the gathered men was audible, making the overeager young man blush. As everyone started to file out, Max remained seated, his legs still tightly crossed. To his dismay, Grant Davidson, one of the senior board members, was lingering. Probably hoping to speak with him.

“Grant.” Max stood carefully, his smile fixed as he approached the other man. “Whatever it is, can it wait?” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I really need the bathroom.”

“Oh.” Grant waved a hand and nodded. “Of course, of course. It can wait, I’ll meet you back at your office. Oh, and I hope you’re not too desperate. The executive bathroom on this floor is out of order.”

“What?” Max paused at the door. “You’re kidding me! Damn it! Where is the closest one?”

Grant thought for a moment. “Two floors down, I think, unless you want to slum it. There might be one on the east side of the building on this floor, but I’ve never been in it, so I can’t speak to its condition.”

“Thanks.” Max nodded as Grant sauntered away. Weighing up his options and his screaming bladder, Max sighed deeply. He was going to have to brave the unknown bathroom.

Leaving the conference room, Max headed towards the elevators and then took a right into the east side of the building. The east side of each floor was dedicated to the non-public-facing side of the business. Maintenance, mail room, interns. Each floor was different, and this one was a rabbit warren of small storage rooms and offices for the lowest-paid employees. Finally, as Max feared he would have to duck into a closet and piss in a corner, he spotted the men’s room.

Pushing the door open, it wasn’t as bad as he feared. It wasn’t anywhere as nice as the executive bathrooms he was used to, but it was clean and smelt fresh. A single urinal was next to the two stalls to the right of the door. On the opposite wall were two sinks with a large mirror hanging over them. Max stepped forward and then frowned as he noticed the “out of order” sign hung haphazardly on the urinal. Grumbling under his breath, he turned on his heel and headed into the stall furthest from the door. Yanking his fly open and freeing his cock, Max let out a long, loud sigh as the stream began.

Relief filled his body as Max continued to piss, taking the opportunity to glance around the cubical as he did. Bland gray tiles stretched from door to ceiling, with only the mirky green of the stall dividing wall and door to add a pop of color. Max looked around with a slight sneer on his face at the dismal condition of the bathroom before his eyes snapped back to the wall of the stall. 

Was that a hole?

Shaking the final drops of pee from his cock, Max didn’t bother to tuck himself away as he bent down to get a better look. It was definitely a hole. Perhaps four inches across, not quite perfectly circular, and it had obviously been cut by an amateur rather than be a part of the design of the stall. Max was puzzled for a couple of seconds before he realized what he was looking at. 

A glory hole.

A men’s room in Black Gold’s headquarters had a glory hole. A small shiver ran down Max’s spine at the thought of all the men who might have come in here since the hole was cut. How long had it been here? Right under his nose. Max’s cock twitched as he flushed the toilet before lowering the lid and sitting down. 

Idly stroking his hardening cock Max bit his lip as he wondered how many men used this hole on a daily basis. Was it well-known in the building? Was that why Grant had sent him here? 

Reaching into his trousers, Max pulled his balls out, rolling them in his left hand as he lazily pumped his cock to full hardness. Spitting into his palm, Max was just settling in and was ready to jerk off when he heard the men’s room door open. Max froze, listening to the man’s shoes click on the tiled floor.

The man went into the stall next to Max, and for a few seconds, Max sat in silence with his cock in hand, wondering if his new neighbor had come just to pee or wanted something more. The seconds ticked by while Max ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, watching as a bead of precum formed before rubbing in gently over the slit.

Max wasn’t sure how to get the other man’s attention. He’d never even seen a glory hole before, let alone used one. Licking his lips, Max racked his brain, trying to think how to get the other man’s attention. 

As if answering his thoughts, Max’s eyes lit up as a semi-erect cock slid into view, as the man in the next stall thrust into the hole. With barely a second's hesitation, Max was on his knees, mouth open, wrapping his lips around the tip of the stranger’s dick. There was a barely audible gasp from the other stall, and Max smiled. This was everything he’d wanted. He’d had fantasies about this for years, and now it was happening.

His own cock throbbed, but he ignored it. Instead, he brought one hand up to grip the base of the length in front of him as he began to work. He started by teasing his tongue around the head, gently poking at the slit with the tip of his tongue before flattening it out and sucking on the head. 

Inch by inch, Max worked his way down the length of the shaft until he could feel it hit the back of his throat. He gagged slightly, just long enough to feel tears pricking his eyes, before pulling back and beginning again. His own arousal ached between his legs, but all Max could focus on was the cock in his mouth. The world blurred around him as he swallowed the throbbing length again and again.

Enveloping the cock once more, Max traced his tongue along the underside, drawing a hiss from the stranger. As his lips stretched around the girth, the sinful desire to be degraded filled his being. Rolling his hips in the air in time with his ministrations, Max hollowed his cheeks, bobbing his head along the full erection before him. 

On the other side of the thin wall, gasps, grunts and the occasional whine filtered out of the other man’s mouth, filling the men's room. It wasn’t long before his jaw was aching. As much as Max wanted this, he wasn’t used to putting in this much work.

‘I’ll have to do this more often to build up the stamina.’ He thought with a small grin. 

Pulling back to focus on the tip, Max swirled his tongue around it before flicking at the slit just as before. The tang of precum was Max’s reward, dribbling out of his open mouth and gliding down his swollen lips. 

Ghosting his tongue over the leaking red head, Max worked the shaft into his mouth to the very back of his throat. Swallowing around the length, he shivered in pleasure as he pulled a loud, wanton moan from the other man. After swallowing for a second time, Max still himself, the desire to be used overtaking him. He needed his mouth fucking. He needed to be used as an object. He needed to choke on this cock. He needed this to complete the fantasy he’d had in his head for so long. 

Understanding what Max wanted, or needed, the other man began fucking slowly into his mouth, testing the water to see if this was what Max truly wanted. When Max didn’t move or pull away and instead opened his throat as much as he could, the other man started to pick up the pace. Soon, the unseen stranger was thrusting his full length into Max’s waiting mouth with abandon. Max’s face burned as his skin prickled with arousal while needy, wet, gagging noises were pushed out of his mouth with every thrust.

His own cock leaked onto the floor between his knees, throbbing in time with the cock gliding over his tongue. He could feel himself tumbling towards the edge and Max reached up both his hands to steady himself against the wall of the stall. His vision swam as the other man began panting loudly on the other side of the partition. 

With a breathy cry, the man came, flooding Max’s mouth with bitter, salty seed. Swallowing what he could, Max could feel some of the come escaping, dribbling out of his mouth and down his chin. Resisting the urge to wipe it away, a shiver ran through Max’s body at the thought of looking at his come-stained lips in the mirror later. Digging his nails into the hard wood of the stall, Max moaned around the cock, still twitching on his tongue. Time seemed to slow as his nails scraped against the wall of the stall, his back arched and his body quivered as he released himself into the men’s room floor untouched.

The cock gently withdrew, and Max could hear the sound of a zipper companied by a long sigh. Still on his knees, Max didn’t trust his legs enough yet to stand. Instead, leaning his head against the cool wood of the stall, Max tried to focus his eyes. Between his legs, his small cock was already softening, shrinking back down to its usual micro state. He could see the other man’s feet, with nice-looking, moderately expensive shoes, shifting around before leaving the stall.

Max heard the rush of water coming from the faucet, and while the other man busied himself at the sink, Max climbed to his feet. The full realization of what he’d just done was starting to dawn on him. What if someone found out? He was the CEO of Black Gold! He was meant to set an example. What would people say?

Pinching his eyes shut, Max sat down on the toilet and waited for the other man to leave. What had he been thinking? This wasn’t like jacking off in the privacy of his office or the regular ‘massage’ sessions he’d been having. He’d blown one of his employees. Surely, there were laws about this kind of thing. 

The sound of the men’s room door clicking shut snapped him out of his spiral. Max opened his eyes and let out a long, loud sigh. Time to get back to reality and possibly face the music for his moment of fantasy.

Tucking himself back into his trousers, Max grabbed some tissue to wipe up the mess he’d made. Bending down to clean up the come, Max’s eyes were drawn to a small piece of cardboard on the floor just under the stall door. Finishing his task, Max picked it up, turning it over in his hand. His eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face as he realized what it was.

A business card. Looking it over, Max could see that there was no name, but there was a number.

Tucking it into his pocket, Max left the stall and went over to the sinks to clean up. Come had dried slightly on his chin, while his already plush lips were pink and swollen. Max smirked to himself at his disheveled state. Putting himself back to his usual well-groomed state, Max couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Leaving the men’s room, he patted the card in his pocket as he made his way back to his office. The possibilities were intriguing. 

[3416]

i think you've talked about mcdrai/1634 parallels before which is so smart and true. neither set of generational superstars has been able to bring the cup home but only one side (and mostly one player) gets hate for it i wonder why!! is toronto media that much more heinous or is it because connor and leon can both grow beards. we may never know.

i don't know that i ever have talked much about that though i definitely SHOULD (or maybe i have in the past and forget flksdj)(ALTHOUGH I AGREE... their parallels fascinate me) like....... connor and leon trapped in EDMONTON. and if they want to keep playing hockey together, they have to stay there and suffer under the weight of gretzky's legacy. basically only have each other to lean on... while mitch and auston are trapped in the worst media market in the world as guys who actually like their privacy, lol. want the spotlight and also hate it at the same time and i think you can tell, lol. want to bring glory to a place that's not seen it in ages but has a fanbase actively wishing for their demise for the sake of change...

JFLKSDFKLS i do think there's a level of truth to the way connor and leon elevate in the playoffs when ppl compare 2997 and 1634... i just can't BELIEVE people think it's IMPOSSIBLE for 1634 to eventually do it... like they've shown promise at certain points? what makes people think it might not be coaching?? they've only ever played for 2 men... but. on a less serious note, the comments about mitch and the pressure on him specifically is 1000000% bc he doesn't present as manly enough and has actual outward feelings about the way he's treated vs robot connor and bitchy leon and stonewall auston. and it SUCKS bc mitch performs well in this stupid fucking market, lol. sorry if consistent 90 point seasons isn't enough for you, but that's SILLINESSSS

[atonalginger]

Snippet Sunday

It's Sunday and I have something Rokov-centric this weekend for my snippet. I wanted to explore what he was up to during the last few chapters of Work-Life Balance and shortly after, since he didn't make much of an appearance then.

I'm tossing the snippet below a cut since its a big longer.

His arrival at the Key was not what he expected, with most of the bays empty, Jazz’s station under lockdown, and the market row deserted. The Last Nova doors were open but only Bog was inside packing up the bar in silence. By the time he’d stepped into the Reckoner’s Core, where he found Shinya was missing, he’d pulled his pistol, half expecting an ambush. Thrasher, always the smart and cautious type, whistled from around the corner near the elevators before approaching the wary pirate.

«Where is everyone?» Rokov asked as he watched the big, quiet man walk up to one of the servers and lean against it.

«Loyalists are preparing for orders, the rest ran to join Naeva, wherever she told them to jump,» Thrasher looked around, clearly uncomfortable being the messenger, «Boss has been worried about you.»

«Did he hear about Estelle’s stunt?» Rokov itched his beard.

«No?» Thrasher raised an eyebrow, «Just that you were late.»

«She sold me out to SysDef, with Naeva’s help,» Rokov finally holstered his gun and relaxed his shoulders, «the whole crew I met up with appeared in on it.»

«Fuck.»

«You said Boss was waiting for me?» Rokov nodded toward the elevators.

«There will be a captain’s meeting soon. We’re waiting on Huan Daiyu to dock and Samina to finish up with whatever she was working on.»

«Who else will be there?»

Thrasher ticked them off with his fingers, «Jazz, Bog, Voss, and Cherise. You should go check in with her and Boss…a lot went down in the two weeks you were gone.»

Rokov raised his brow momentarily, trying to hide his panic while his mind reeled over the possibilities. He took a breath, collecting his thoughts, before nodding and leaving the quiet pirate in the Core.

Was there a fight? He wondered as the elevator climbed to the command center floor. It felt slower than usual, like time had become molasses for him, What did Naeva get in return for my coordinates? What could SysDef possibly have that she would want that could get her to…

His stomach knotted up as the elevator doors slid open. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breath, a loud ringing consuming his thoughts as it hit him. Naeva wanted ammunition against Bella. Something she would use to weaken the Fleet’s femme fatale. And the sharks had something too: Sophie. They had information on that sweet little girl. The little princess Bella fought so hard to keep far away from the Fleet and all of her other dangerous ventures. And they jumped right to the Key two weeks ago.

Jazz was the one to find him standing in the elevator, catching the door before it closed on him, “Hey there, we’ve been worried about you. Shinya picked up on some chatter talking about a raid at the freighter.”

“All thanks to the traitor,” Rokov rumbled, trying to center himself.

“Which one?” Jazz said with a frown.

“We don’t have time to list them,” he forced a laugh, “Where is Delgado?”

“He and Bella are up in his room. Thrasher should have mentioned a meeting? It’ll be a little bit, we’re still waiting on the Jade Swan, so you should head on up.”

Rokov nodded and found the will to move his legs and walk. He tried to look stoic but the way Jazz looked back at him told him she could see through it. Command was empty, the door to the emergency docks open, Mollie and Wrecker’s voices somewhere in the darkness. Didn’t think that dock was operational.

He took the stairs two at a time, catching the tail end of the conversation between his partners, Del trying to sound confident, “he’ll be here soon. Please sit down before you wear a hole—“

“Why didn’t you tell me about the sharks on Gagarin?” she snapped back.

“When would have been a good time to slot that into conversation, mi amor? Before the news Naeva was in Cheyenne? After her goons fucked around?”

“You could have told me last night!”

“Look at you,” Del stopped to temper his words, fighting not to escalate things into a shouting match, “if I told you last night you would have…he’s on the Key now, like I knew he would. He’s safe.”

Rokov pushed through the war room and into the small back bedroom. Bella’s back was to the door, her fists balled at her sides. Delgado glanced over to him and then held up a hand to point in his direction, “see, he’s right here.”

She spun around and rushed the big Russian, crashing into him with a panicked urgency that rattled his nerves. He scooped her up, her legs wrapping around him as he hugged her tight, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

«What happened? Are you alright? Where is Sophie?» he whispered between kisses to her neck.

“Sophie is with her Auntie and Uncle…somewhere safe in the Blackest Sea,” Bella’s grip on him was intense, “don’t know where, which is best for now. She’s safe.”

“Naeva has tried twice to kidnap Sophie,” Del added, slowly walking past them to close the bedroom door, “still don’t know how the feral bitch knew Sophie would be on the Cherrybomb that day…she was a secret to everyone except you and apparently Daiyu.”

“She had her reasons,” Rokov kissed Bella’s temple.

“That wasn’t meant as a complaint,” Del stepped close and leaned his forehead against Rokov’s shoulder, “I’m not mad. I’m just confused to how Naeva knew to send people looking.”

Rokov put Bella down with some reluctance, “was the first attempt the same day as the park?”

“Da,” Bella wiped her eyes and took a long breath in, letting it out slow through her mouth.

“Then someone in New Atlantis tipped her off. Someone with security feed access. Someone paying her back for Fleet captain movements.” Rokov turned to look at Delgado, “Estelle became an informant for the sharks. She gave them details on the freighter heist. Details she got from ‘someone high up the chain.’ And the crew that met me was all in on it, likely on orders from Naeva. No clue where any of them are, aside from the blue-haired prick I wasted once I caught him sharing movements.”

Delgado blinked rapidly, his face going red as he struggled to stay calm.

“Oh, but I’m the fucking rat!” Bella shouted as she aggressively paced the floor, “I’m the traitor worth hunting down.” She continued ranting, her sentences breaking into an incomprehensible mix of English with heavy southern Akilan twang that only surfaced when she was enraged and Spanish.

“I’m glad you were able to get away,” Del said, his bare hand caressing Rokov’s neck and shoulder.

“I’m going to kill that fucking rat,” Bella shouted, “I’m going to carve her to fucking pieces!”

“Soon, mi amor,” Delgado looked over, “soon.”

[swisterski]

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[starsweetiie]

❝ Helloo~ Name's %̷̛͕̟̭̙̐̕*̷̻̰̃̓̀#̸̼̭̦͋̍!̵̘̑͜@̷̦̌̓͒́ͅ?̴̪̤͖̄! ... Oops-! I mean, you can call me, Blue~ ❞

Sinner No. ?? - %*#@? (alias: Blue)

Particulars: Deceitful, Lascivious, Antagonistic, Morbid Color: Forgotten Blue - #00DDFF Literary Source: The Uncanny Base E.G.O.: Familiarly Unfamiliar

A Sinner possessing the unnatural ability to change shape at will and cause fear and confusion in most living entities. Though they are quite strong and smart, they are also dangerously uncooperative and destructive. It is suggested that managers and sinners alike take extra precautions when in close quarters with them.

[CAUTION]: This Sinner is noted to cause periods of unshakable discomfort or dread in those around them. Having other team members spend occasional time out of view of them is highly recommended. [WARNING]: Due to this Sinner's unusual nature, they will also exhibit signs of corrosion during elevated mental states and may stay corroded for longer than normal.

More details under the cut!

Extended info:

Previous Work: Black Market dealer, Informant, H-Corp Hive Member Current Affiliation: Limbus Company Weapon: None (Shapeshifts)

Gender: Fluid (he/she/they) (most company records refer to him by "they") Age: ?? (estimates are 30+) Height: 165 cm, 5'5” (changes frequently) Birthday: July 15

This Sinner is considered a jack-of-all-trades and is passably competent at a wide expanse of tasks from machine repair to espionage to assassination. If no better choice is otherwise available, it would be suggested to rely on them for even the more unusual of tasks.

Please note that it is very difficult to make them do anything outside their usual scope or work without immediate compensation, so we suggest managers keep a handful of sweets on them to avoid any issues of payment.

IMPORTANT NOTES:

DESIGN

His clothing tears whenever he shifts, so he sews them back together until they are 100% unusable and basically in tatters. There are often stitches all over his clothes. The only piece of specialty clothing he has (that changes with him) is his ribbon. As such, when shifted he always has his ribbon or a ribbon-like mark on him somewhere. His Company jacket is extremely oversized. He doesn't wear it in fights and instead uses it to cover himself after battle if his clothes are wrecked. It also does not have his name on it as no one could read it anyways.

SHIFTING 

Can only change into life-like beings or creature-like abnormalities. If it is something that has inanimate parts, he can only imitate the living parts - (i.e: when changing to Alleyway Watchdog, he can imitate the wolf but not the poles. or technically he can but they would be gross and fleshy) He can chimera himself into a mix of things as well. He has had several aliases in his years. His most infamous identities are that of: > The Sandman: a violent aggressor who appeared for some time in the backstreets of several districts and stole people’s eyes during the Backstreet Nights. > The Raven: Literally just a raven, but unusually large and distinguished by a blood-red marking by its left eye. It is rumored in some backstreets to be a sign of ill omen and speaks to the doomed in tongues and curses. He does not forcefully revert back to his usual form even if he is knocked unconscious or killed. The form he usually uses is not the one he was born with and no one really knows what he looks like.

OTHER

As noted, spending long periods of time around him can affect people's sanity. Most will eventually have delusions of seeing him taking creepily disturbing forms or saying variously upsetting things (usually differs by person's perception). Quite frankly, though, for those that spend a lot of time with him, it's not much different from what he normally does but he gets very upset when he notices it happening nonetheless Has had previous trouble with I-Corp who took away his name as punishment. Due to this his name can’t be heard, seen or said by most others. According to him, it is extremely painful to change forms and hearing things break or snap while he does is quote normal. He does it very frequently regardless and has developed a very extreme pain tolerance as a result.