#its been a week with no movement on the suspension. they keep telling me to delete unused urls but i have none anymore

[dylantyler]

im feeling incredibly smothered. not sure what to do..

[whereisten]

Porcelain

A Yangyang fic that’s part of our Halloween Series! 

Summary: After a falling out with your friends, you wander into a forest and find a mysterious mansion with an even more mysterious inhabitant, Yangyang. 

Pairing: rich boy!Yangyang x female reader 

Genre: romance, fluff, fantasy, mystery, suspense, drama

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Violence

(A/N): hey y’all! So the timing for posting this story worked out so well because it’s Yangyang’s birthday (in America!) :D Anyway, this is our second story for our Halloween Series for NCT 2020 and we hope you enjoy!  I’m so excited to be writing for one of my biases. I know my writing needs a lot of work but I hope you guys enjoy it. Yangyang is precious. Stan Yangyang, y’all. Shoutout to Krys for inspiring me everyday and for proofreading my story! You are my rock!

_______

It was October 10, the day in which your small town came together for a big bonfire to celebrate the fall season. Your town of Celestial was known for celebrating something every week but the atmosphere was always special at this time of the year. Classes ended for the week and your friends were excited to go to a party in the woods.

Unfortunately for you, you were abandoned off the side of the road after having a falling out with your friends Dowoon and Sana for blowing off the mayor’s son’s party. You’d recently been rebuffed by him in the senior hallway. Your rejection was followed by your classmates mocking you all day long. You wouldn’t be caught dead at Peter’s party. And you were especially in no mood to put up with your friends’ preference for a good party over their recently spurned friend’s feelings.

You said screw them but they would probably end up screwing each other anyway. They were platonic but their drunken hookups always said otherwise. So sometimes you felt like a third wheel. Which was also why you didn’t want to go. You wanted a new experience this spooky season. And you were probably getting one now that you were 2 miles outside of town. Damn your pride. Dowoon and Sana insisted you get back in the car but the driver, the school quarterback, quickly drove them off. What a sense of community, you thought.

It was freezing in Celestial at this time of year so you were layered up, saving your pair of ruby red mittens for last. The overcast sky appeared to promise snowfall. If not for tonight, the snow would surely fall tomorrow

You knew this area well enough to walk back into town but as you took a few steps forward, you noticed smoke in the distance. Like it was coming from a chimney.

That was odd, you thought. Who lived on this side of town?

As you walked in the direction of the smoke, you moved past the dense evergreen trees and before you knew it, you stumbled upon a mansion out of an old-time movie. Dating back to at most the 1800s. The mansion was a Renaissance chateau, big and domineering. Something that could’ve made Celestial a tourist destination like Asheville had with the Biltmore Estate.

How was it possible that anyone could live here, you thought. Surely, this would be the talk of the town if anyone knew. And if it was off-limits, it would’ve certainly kept the town on their toes.

The mansion was quiet and there was no trace of movement or inhabitants. Then again, it was large so you could be incorrect. The chateau’s main entrance was big and made of the most pristine marble. The only thing missing was a moat. There were several fountains in the entrance. The water froze due to the colder weather. You didn’t understand how you could keep moving forward. You didn’t know this place. You didn’t know who could be inside. But you found yourself taking steps up to the massive double doors. Your hand moved to the doorknob and turned it over. The door creaked open and without a second thought, you walked in.

The door slammed shut behind you but you weren’t afraid. In fact, you were mesmerized by the atmosphere of the mansion. From the outside the mansion looked preserved like a fine piece of art in a high-surveillance museum: cold and unwelcoming and way out of your price range. But on the inside, it felt...warm and bright. It felt like home. It smelled of cinnamon and freshly baked bread.

You walked through the entryway and found everything illuminated by candle light. There was no indication of light from the outside. It was almost as if the real goings-on were hidden from the outside world.  

There were shoes at the entrance. You took your boots off to not track dirt into the residence. Winter coats were hung up on the coat rack. You hang your coat up as well. There was a half-full cup of tea that was beside the sofa of the sitting room. You admired the interior: the expansive first floor library, the dining room table that sat seven, the pristine kitchen area, the music room...

As you stood in the doorway of the music room, you heard the sounds of a violin playing a somber but sweet melody. Rather than grow alarmed, you longed to find the source, thinking that whatever it was could only bring you joy.

The music room was massive, with a skylight in the shape of a spade on the ceiling. The sunset colors of the sky never looked more stunning than they did at that moment.  A grand piano lay at the center. You longed to touch it but something inside you warned you against it. Instruments of all kinds were splayed across the area. But there was no violin in sight.

When you turned around to continue exploring the mansion, that was when you found the source of the music.

A boy about your age stood before you with his violin rested against his collarbone. He continued to play as he smiled knowingly at you. He had straight brown hair that nearly fell into his warm brown eyes. He donned a black tuxedo that was more regal than modern. His eyes crinkled as he watched you, delighted to meet such a beautiful stranger.

You nearly jumped at his presence. “Who…are you?”

Quirking an eyebrow, he replied as he continued playing, “I should be asking you that. You’ve broken into our home.”

“Our?” You asked.

He shook his head. “What brings you here, miss?”

You knew you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to  but you couldn’t help it. This place called out to you and you’d hoped you could stay longer. But it looked like your time was up. You lamely said, “I…need to borrow your phone.”

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re referring to. What’s this ‘phone’ you speak of?” His refined voice was not like that of the locals. He sounded well-traveled, worldly. But definitely from a long time ago. 

The more you spoke to this young man, the more you realized that he didn’t sound like he lived in the same century as you.

You frowned. “You don’t know what a phone is? Come on, you’re kidding, aren’t you?”

He halted from playing and gave you a look. “Tell me. What is a phone?”

“…It’s a device that lets you speak to someone who isn’t with you…” You attempted an explanation that was as eloquent as possible, thinking that if you spoke in a more refined tone, he would get what you were saying. Where on earth could this boy have been from to not know what a phone is? He really sounded like someone from a century past.

“Like a medium?” He asked as he set his violin down in its case. He put his hands in his pockets as he walked slowly back to you. Your breathing stalled as his face was mere inches from yours. He was indeed very handsome. His high cheekbones. His glorious tan skin. A pearly white set of teeth. His legs were dangerously long as he faced you.

Your face warmed up and you hoped he couldn’t tell. You backed away as you locked your eyes on the piano instead. “No…It’s like if I were two miles away from here and you needed to get a hold of me, you could use a phone to contact me on another phone. It’s an electronic device.”

He nodded. “Oh, I’ve heard of those…My family and I could not acquire them, unfortunately.” His expression became sad, longing.

Hearing his defeated voice, you turned to him. “Oh, I’m sorry. Why is that?”

He looked at you, defeated. “I’d rather not say, miss…”

“Y/n,” you answered.

“Y/n,” he replied, liking the sound of your name.

“It’s okay,” you replied, “I should probably go…I’ve overstayed my welcome, sir….Your name?”

“Yangyang,” he answered, anticipating the sound of his name off of your lips.

“Yangyang…Would it be possible to get a ride back into town? I can pay you for your trouble.”

He smiled apologetically. “My sincerest apologies but I’ve no means to take you.”

“Oh…” It was all you could say.

You felt a small pang of worry at the pit of your stomach, especially now that night had fallen. Perhaps, you could make your way back into town if Yangyang offered you a torch. He would have that much, at the very least.

“It’s dangerous to go out on your own at this time of night, y/n…” He said, quietly. It was a little eerie that he read your mind at that moment.

“I know. I’m such a fool…I couldn’t borrow my father’s phone for the night so I have no way of calling anyone…I…just couldn’t help myself when I walked in here…” You said as you looked around the music room. “It was like…”

“Something pulled you in,” he finished.

“Yes, exactly.”

Yangyang began, “I know it’s out of turn for me to say this but I can offer you a room to stay in for the night…Then, you can make your way back into town in the morning.”

You were beyond lucky your parents weren’t home for the weekend. Otherwise, they’d be worried sick. But even so…How could you say yes to a total stranger? Even if you were only a few miles out of town, you didn’t know Yangyang. You didn’t know what his intentions could be.

Another part of you told you to trust him. Because what would you do in the woods at night? You couldn’t account for the wolves or the other creatures of the night. You didn’t know who else could linger in the woods.

As far as you could tell, Yangyang was an odd but attractive guy. And if he was offering a separate space for you to sleep in, then you should take it.

_______

There was a snowstorm in a matter of minutes when Yangyang escorted you upstairs. How odd for it to be snowing in early October, you thought. You rejoiced over how your jerk of a crush's party was a bust. You wondered if Sana and Dowoon made it home safely. You wondered if they worried about you now. After they left you in the middle of the road.

Maybe you should stop being friends with them. You felt like you were more disappointed in them with each passing week. You wondered when they would do something for you. It always seemed to fall on you to pick them up from parties and cover for them when their parents called your house when they went to a 21+ club. You just wanted a simple night in to watch a movie and share ghost stories. Maybe they didn’t want to do those things anymore.

You wouldn’t say they grew up but maybe...the three of you just grew apart.

You pushed thoughts of them to the back of your mind as Yangyang stood in front of an ornate door, decorated with flower engravings, painted in several colors. The initials at the bottom were “W.T.”.

Yangyang pulled a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door for you. He handed the set of golden keys to you. “These are yours for the duration of your stay. You can trust no one will come in...Unless it be your wish, y/n.”

He dropped the keys into your hands. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Yangyang smiled. “You are welcome. Supper will be ready in an hour. I’ll come for you when it is time.”

You couldn’t look at him for too long without your eyes burning. He was too radiant. Too beautiful. Almost otherworldly. You looked down at your socks as you entered the room. You shut it gently behind you.

You locked the door from the inside, trusting that Yangyang gave you the only set. You took a sigh of relief as you took in the bedroom.

This had to be a mistake, you thought.

This had to be the master room. It felt like you were in a 19th century penthouse suite, if such a thing had existed. Your room for the night started with a fireplace and a sitting area. When you walked past it, you entered the study area that was bigger than the first floor of your house. You had a massive walk-in closet filled with gowns and shoes of every color. You even had a room full of fine jewelry on display, including tiaras studded with diamonds. Your mouth remained open as you walked through the “bedroom”.

You shouldn’t have access to any of these things. For they must have belonged to someone. Why would Yangyang let you sleep in here?

Lastly, as your heart couldn’t take anymore, the bedroom was plush and luxurious. The carpet embraced the soles of your feet. After resisting the urge to touch everything else in the bedroom, you allowed yourself to sit on the king-sized bed.

Sleeping in this bed would’ve compensated for all of the all-nighters you’ve pulled in your life. It was a shame you wouldn’t be able to sleep that night, though.

You were many things. Naive, innocent, studious, and quite impulsive at times. But you weren’t about to fall asleep in a stranger’s home.

Half an hour passed as you washed up and warmed up by the fireplace.

Yangyang knocked at your door. You thought it odd that he would be escorting you down himself. Shouldn’t he have servants, living in a place like this?

You opened the door and Yangyang stared at you in shock.

“What?” You frowned. You looked exactly the same as you did when you first met him, he realized.

“Were none of the gowns to your liking?” Yangyang asked, genuinely confused.

You did a double take. “What? Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly...Those aren’t mine. I don’t want to take advantage of your hospitality. No more than I already have.”

Yangyang was stunned at your decision. He thought you would have tried on all of the dresses in the past half hour and don the diamond tiara with golden accents...But no...The suite he’d given you was relatively untouched. You were certainly a woman of your word. You would’ve looked stunning in the red sleeveless dress, he thought. He snapped out of it and said, “No matter. You had the option...That’s why I gave you this room. Everything within these mansion walls is at your disposal.”

You laughed. “You’ve done more than enough for me so don’t worry. Now...can we go eat? I really can’t turn down a meal.” You hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Yangyang laughed at your candor. “Of course.”

As you walked down the grand wooden staircase, you could hear more people in the house. You heard chairs being pulled, laughter, clinking of glasses, and the piano being played.

You turned to Yangyang. “Who...”

Yangyang replied, “My brothers will be joining us for supper.”

“Oh,” you said, surprised. When you entered, you were shocked enough that Yangyang was there. Who knew more people resided here? Up until now, it was so quiet that you could probably hear a pin drop.

That, and Yangyang’s violin. Which you longed to hear again.

You felt quite underdressed upon meeting Yangyang’s brothers in the dining room, which boasted a lot of paintings and miniature statues to the men who stood before you. There was another grand piano in the dining area, where one of Yangyang’s brothers sat and played a lively piece. Three of the brothers were laughing about an anecdote that the tallest of the group told. The final two men sat as...to your surprise, servants finished setting the dining table, lighting the flames of the candles in the center. The servants’ dresses had turned up collars with plain neckties. Yangyang’s brothers all donned suits of dark reds, blues, and grays. They looked like members of a royal family.

At the sight of you, the music stopped and all of the men started moving towards you and Yangyang.

“Yangyang, an introduction is in order,” the pianist asked as he got up from his seat.

“Brothers, this is y/n. She is staying with us before she returns to town in the morning,” Yangyang said, the humor in his voice when he spoke with you vanished. He moved closer to you, you noticed.

The pianist asked for your hand and kissed it. “Enchanted to meet you, y/n. I am Wei Kun, the oldest of the Wei children.”

You coughed, a little shocked at how forward Kun was. It was a culture shock to you. Most boys thought they were too damn special to ever make eye contact with you.

You shook hands with the other brothers. They were all very happy to see you. But you couldn’t quite place what kind of joy it was so you remained on your toes.

“Please, sit,” Winwin said as he led you to the seat right next to the head of the table. Kun sat down at the head of the table and smiled at you. The rest of the brothers joined you.

The servants began to bring out the drinks and the first course. Ten was about to sit next to you when Yangyang immediately claimed the seat.

“Calm down, brother,” Ten said, “It won’t do you harm to let her sit beside someone other than you.”

Yangyang remained in his seat. “She is my guest.”

Ten chuckled as he sat across from you. “So y/n, what brings you to this neck of the woods?”

A servant poured a glass of water for you. “Thank you,” you replied and tried to meet her eyes.

The servant quickly turned away and headed to the kitchen, you assumed. That was odd.

“Well,” you continued, “My friends and I were going to a party in the woods. We got into a fight and I got out of the car that was on the road not too far from here…”

“A car?” Xiaojun frowned, his bold eyebrows furrowed. He took a bite of his salad.

So these men didn’t know phones or cars... “Oh...Well, they’re these machines that can transport people from place to place…”

“Like a carriage?” Yangyang offered.

“Ah.” The rest of the boys said in realization.

You nodded as you drank your water, “Yes, but it runs on gasoline.”

The boys were amazed at your tales about modern technology. You went into as much detail as you could about phones and cars. The boys were an odd bunch. It was almost as if they never left this house.

Although it seemed like that, they told you tales of their travels to Asia, South America, and Europe. They told you about their cultural expeditions and their visits to the natural wonders of the world. Ten, the painter of the family, motioned to the paintings you’d seen earlier. They were paintings of places like Machu Picchu, the Colosseum, and the Parthenon. They were paintings of the places they visited. They were so vivid and lifelike. Ten was an incredible painter. Talent ran in the family, that was a sure thing. You were as much in awe of their tales. You were thankful the spotlight wasn’t on you like you’d expected, being the sole stranger of this household.

You enjoyed the salad, the tomato soup, the roasted duck, and the dessert, which happened to be your favorite: strawberry shortcake.

“Would you care for another slice?” Yangyang asked in a whisper as the other boys talked. He noticed your face come alive at the first bite of the cake.

You nearly choked on the last bite of your slice. You must have looked gluttonous to him. You should’ve eaten slower, you thought. You must have not been very ladylike at that moment. You shook your head. “That’s alright. Thank you. Everything was delicious.”

Yangyang looked at you once again in confusion. You clearly wanted another slice so why weren’t you asking for it, he asked himself. “Very well…” He murmured.

Lucas got up from the table. “Well, Yangyang, the boys and I will retire early...Although we wish you would let us be in y/n’s company…”

Yangyang quickly replied, “Good evening, brothers.”

They all pouted but wished you a good evening.

You laughed. “Your brothers are a lot of fun.”

Yangyang scoffed. “That’s one word for them. The minute they caught wind that I had a visitor, they insisted on joining us for dinner. I am so sorry, y/n. You must have been overwhelmed.”

You shook your head. “It’s nice to know that it isn’t just you in this house.”

Yangyang was stunned at your words. You were so...kind. Thinking of others, always. Thinking of him, basically a total stranger. You were as kind as you were trusting. It made his heart ache.

He pulled your seat back for you. He offered his arm. “Are you tired?”

Exhausted, actually. But once again, you were in a stranger’s house. And now that you knew he wasn’t alone, you wanted to be more on guard.

“Nope...I am wide awake.” You smiled as you took his arm. He was warm to the touch. The electricity ran between both of you.

Yangyang laughed. “What would you like to do, y/n?”

“I’d like to hear you play,” you said.

He was shocked at your honesty. He liked when you expressed yourself honestly most of all.

It was the truth, you thought. Frankly, it was part of your ruse to stay up as late as possible but if Yangyang could keep you entertained, it would certainly help a lot.

And truly, you could listen to his violin for hours.

_______

Back in the music room, you sat on the couch, serving as Yangyang’s audience. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket, setting it aside on a chair. He rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

He warmed up his hands and fingers for a few minutes before he tuned the strings of his violin. His fingers were so elegant and slender. The veins of his arms protruded as he flexed his hands. He looked so focused and determined and just unbelievably beautiful. The violin was an extension of his heavenly hands. This was the most attractive he’d ever been. You bit your lip.

You told yourself to calm down, for he was a complete stranger.

Sure, up until this point, he gave you the bedroom of your dreams. A dinner that nearly brought you to tears from the flavor and comfort it gave you. And he was playing his beloved instrument for you...But you couldn’t get attached so quickly.

He couldn’t meet your gaze because the look in your eyes made him feel something he wasn’t prepared to acknowledge. Time had slipped quickly and his heart was deceiving him when it shouldn’t have.

“So...what will you be playing first?” You asked. How many songs could you get out of him before you both retired to your rooms?

Yangyang grinned excitedly. “An original I’ve been working on...I finished composing it today.”

“Really? Today?” You asked.

He gave you the knowing smile he had the moment you met him. “You helped me finish it.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m ready when you are.” You smiled, about to kick your legs up like an overly excited schoolgirl.

“The piece is called ‘Found’,” Yangyang said as he positioned his bow against the strings and began.

Yangyang was truly an otherworldly being, especially under the skylight. The snowstorm was long gone and only the moonlight shone down on him. His skin illuminated like porcelain. His sculpted face tilted as he immersed himself in his song.

You realized the song was the piece he played when you entered the music room the first time. The song was somber at first. The notes were low and left you feeling down. Yangyang’s face was so melancholic at the start of the song. However, as he continued, the notes became lighter and freer, picking up towards the end, signifying hope. Your heart swayed with each three-note chord he played.

You weren’t entirely sure of the story behind the song but meeting you must not have been a low point of his day.

You clapped for Yangyang. “I loved it! It’s...too beautiful to be called merely beautiful...You are so talented.”

Yangyang’s cheeks were now a rosy pink. He bowed for you. “Thank you.”

You laughed giddily. You wished you could’ve recorded this performance, you longed to keep it with you for the rest of your life.

Yangyang continued playing his original pieces. He was truly gifted in his craft. His compositions were nothing to sneeze at. He should be a world-famous musician with all of the work he’d done.

As he played, he would meet your eyes and give you a little smile. You could watch him for hours. He could play for you for hours.

You two were in this perfect little bubble, then. Reality didn’t take effect. It was divine.

Yangyang’s hands grew tired and after his last song, he sat beside you.

“You look sleepy, y/n,” he noted, “Did my performance actually bore you?” He mocked taking offense.

You fought a yawn but couldn’t let it escape you so turned away from him. You lifted a finger and told him to wait.

You let out a yawn, trying not to be noisy. Yes, you were tired. A long day at school, a falling out with your friends, and an evening at the Wei Mansion did its number on you.

You faced Yangyang again. “I’m wide awake.”

Yangyang lifted an eyebrow in skepticism. “Perhaps you would like  something to drink?”

You nodded. “Something warm...Would hot cocoa be possible?”

“Absolutely. It’s a staple at this household this time of year,” he said.

He offered his hand to you and you took it. Both of you were taken aback by how immediate you were to hold hands but neither of you let go as Yangyang led you into the kitchen.

In the kitchen, he tended to you. The servants were nowhere in sight. The mansion felt like it had when you first came in: empty.

It felt like you two were the only people in this house, a world in itself.

He poured you a cup of cocoa he made and you were in love. The cocoa tasted amazing. You drank it slowly, savoring every sip.

You shivered a little from the cold that creeped into the mansion. Yangyang left for a moment and returned with a blanket. He wrapped it around you.

It was plush and made of the softest material you could ever imagine. If you snuggled too much against it, you would fall asleep right then and there.

But your energy started picking up again...It must have been the cocoa.

“We can go into the library...I’ll start up the fire.” Yangyang offered as he drank his cup of cocoa.

It seemed Yangyang was eager to stay awake with you, you thought.

“Aren’t you tired?” You asked.

He looked up from his cup. “What?”

“You don’t have to force yourself to stay up with me. I’m the one who can’t sleep.”

Yangyang knew you were keeping yourself awake on purpose. He knew you didn’t completely trust him or this house. Slowly, however, you opened yourself up to him and he was quite fond of you. He wanted to be by your side for the night. He didn’t know why exactly but he just did.

He met your gaze. “I hope it is not too forward of me to say this...But I want to remain at your side.”

You looked down, flattered at his words. Then, you mustered your courage and met his unwavering stare. “Okay.”

The truth was, you felt safer with Yangyang. And you couldn’t lie to yourself: you liked him. He was kind, attentive, charming, and a wonderful musician. The moment you met him made you forget all of your troubles...if only for a moment.

You two walked into the dome-shaped library. It was bigger than any commercial bookstore. You wondered how old the family’s collection was.

Yangyang started the fire at the fireplace by the reading couches. He motioned for you to take a seat.

You sat down and nearly sank into the couch. It was so comfortable. You were living in the lap of luxury.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Yangyang asked.

You laughed. “Yeah...why?”

“Your eyes rolled to the back of your head,” he said, smiling confusedly.

You laughed again. “It’s because this couch is the most comfortable thing I’ve ever sat on.”

Yangyang smiled and shook his head. “The simplest things please you.”

“Nothing about this house is simple,” you said.

He shook his head, smiling at you and picked up a book off of the shelf. He scanned the title and the summary. “What do you like to read, y/n?”

You answered, “Horror.”

Yangyang’s eyes widened. “Really?”

You nodded. “Yes. I like the suspense and the kinds of creatures the writers come up with.”

Yangyang was wrong to assume you were a romance kind of girl. He’d hoped to woo you with some Shakespeare. He took it in stride and put the book he had back on the shelf. He took a rolling step ladder and positioned it farther away from you. He got up on the steps and picked up another book off the shelf.

“It’s called ‘The Mysterious Mansion’,” he said, biting back a laugh.

“How fitting,” you said, laughing.

You and Yangyang shared a couch as you took turns reading to each other. The story was dark and twisted but got your heart racing.

Well, maybe Yangyang’s being so close to you may have had something to do with it.

The hours pass and you finish off the last page. Yangyang leaned against the other end of the couch and simply watched you. He loved the sound of your voice and the way it cracked.

He gave you a glass of water to relax your voice. He loved how your eyes scanned word for word. The crease between your eyes as you interpreted the author’s words. But you kept on reading aloud. He’d read “The Mysterious Mansion’ several times but this time was his favorite reread.

You could hear Yangyang talk forever when you heard him read the passages. His voice was soothing and full of wonder. The grin on his face right before he read a twist to the story. The crinkle of his nose when he laughed at your reactions. He’d become a friend.

A friend you wanted to kiss.

This was the most fun you’d ever had. This cold October night with this enchanting young man. You kinda wished it would never end but you were still resolved to...Stay...awake…

Your eyes grew heavy and you curled yourself against the couch. You pulled the blanket tighter around you.

Yangyang realized you were drifting. He quickly moved over to you and shook you awake.

You two had stayed up all night and it was nearing daybreak. And he had to move fast.

“Y/n!” He yelled to wake you up.

You grumbled. “What?”

“Please wake up. You need to leave right now,” Yangyang demanded.

You rubbed your eyes and snapped out of it. How the hell did you almost fall asleep, you fool, you thought to yourself. The alarm in Yangyang’s voice also was a cause for concern. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

He shook his head rampantly. “There’s no time to explain. Do you have everything?”

You nodded. “I have to get my coat and boots at the entrance.”

Yangyang grabbed your hand and you both ran towards the entrance. You put your coat and boots on. Yangyang did the same and he nearly dragged you out the door. You quickly moved down the staircase and set foot on the dewy grass. Yangyang kept his foot on the last step of the staircase.

The sky overhead was mostly black but shades of oranges, pinks, and red were breathing through. Dawn was imminent.

That was when you realized you had no mittens. You’d left them in the bedroom.

Yangyang noticed your bare hands. He pulled off his royal blue mittens and slipped them onto your hands.

“You don’t have to-“ You started.

“I want you to have them. A fair trade. Yours for mine?” He smiled.

He squeezed your hands before he let them go.

“Thank you...for tonight, Yangyang,” you said. Even though it was through the weather and the night that you had no other choice, you had a magical night with a boy who was so wonderful, he must’ve been out of a classic novel. He’d treated you like a friend and listened to you: about what you wanted to do and what you liked. You’d wished you could’ve gotten to know him more but you appreciated that he listened to you attentively.

You were sad the night had ended but you’d succeeded in staying up nearly the whole night at least. You were meant to leave now. You’d overstayed your welcome and you needed to get home. That was the most important thing.

Yangyang moved closer to you and moved some hair away from your face. He touched your cheek with the back of his hand. Once again, you both did something with no thought.

You got up on the staircase and kissed him. He pulled you in to deepen the kiss. He picked you up off the ground as he continuously took your breath away.

But as quickly as this piece of utter bliss started, it quickly ended.

He let you go and set you down on the grass. “Goodbye, y/n.”

“Goodbye, Yangyang.” As you walked into the forest, you turned back once more and watched as Yangyang stood there, his face unreadable.

You waved at him and his expression softened as he waved back.

You laughed as you turned back now and kept on moving. The path to the main road took a little longer than expected because it was still dark. However, the sun rose before you knew it and you were able to see the main road again.

And you were shocked to find several people on the main road. Cop cars were parked off the side of the road. A news reporter for Channel 23 News could be heard saying.

“It is Day 8 into the search for y/n y/l/n. She was last seen on this road, Road 116 by her friends and has not returned home. If you have seen y/n or have any information that can help our police force find her, please call the number on the screen: 1-800-RES-CUES. Again, that’s 1-800-RES-CUES.”

Dowoon and Sana were being interviewed by another news station.

Dowoon was on the brink of tears, his eyes stained red. “This is all our fault.”

Choking on her tear, Sana continued, “We shouldn’t have left her on the road...We thought she went home...We were so stupid…”

What the hell was going on?

You walked into the road and several people turn to you in shock. They gasped and screamed your name.

Your parents broke out of the crowd of people that has accumulated. “Y/n!” They both yell.

They run up to you and wrap their arms around you, weeping hysterically.

Your mom yelled, “Y/n, where have you been? My baby!”

Your dad held your face in his hands, “What happened to you? Are you alright?”

You were shocked at their reaction. “What are you guys doing here? I thought you guys were in New York until tomorrow.”

Your parents, not letting you go, gave each other a meaningful look.

Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed. “Tomorrow? Y/n, we came back a week ago.”

You laughed in disbelief. “No, you guys left Friday morning, yesterday morning.”

Your dad shook his head. “Y/n, you’ve been missing for a week now.”

You laughed again. “No...You guys are messing with me.”

But then you looked around at all of the worried looks on the people’s faces. The police officers came right over. You even saw Dowoon and Sana sobbing not too far from Sana’s car.

“You guys...I stayed in a mansion not too far from here for the night because of the snow…”

“What mansion? What snow?” Your parents asked in unison.

You darted your eyes to everyone else and whispered to them. “Come with me.”

“Y/n, we need to get you home…” Your mom pleaded.

You shook your head. “I need to show you where I was and that I wasn’t in danger.”

“Y/n, we should tell the police-” Your father offered.

“No!” You snapped. “Please trust me. He didn’t do anything to me. He’s my friend.”

At the mention of “he”, your parents were up in arms and motioned for the police to come over.

“We will go with you, y/n…” Your mom said.

She meant that they’ll go with you if you have a police escort.

You shook your head and led the party to the mansion. You couldn’t believe this. Missing for seven days? That was impossible. You’d only been gone for the night. How could anyone have known you’d been gone? Your parents were away.

Once you got out of the forest to the Wei mansion, you saw that there was no mansion. Only an abandoned cabin.

What?

“Is this where you were detained, y/n?” Police Officer A asked.

“I was not detained. This isn’t the mansion I-”

“A mansion?” Everyone looked at you skeptically.

You entered the cabin, knowing that everything you believed in was slipping through your fingers. Tears quickly ran down your cheeks. The cabin was shabby, the furniture inside covered in dust. It had been unlived in for quite some time.

“Y/n!” Your parents yelled.

The police rushed in after you and Police Officer B held you back. “Let me go!” You demanded.

“It’s dangerous.”

The police officers searched the entire cabin three times over and came up with nothing. “There is no trace of anyone having been here for years,” Police Officer A said.

Well, of course not, this wasn’t the mansion that you stayed at.

Clearly, the more time passed, the more concerned everyone looked. It was possible you heard the words “rehab” and “therapy” and “mental break” thrown around.

You had to calm down. You knew you weren’t crazy. You knew it because you wore Yangyang’s gloves.

Yangyang.

Where is he? Where were his brothers? Where was the Wei mansion?

Police Officer B released you and you browsed the area. Your parents trailed behind you. You entered one of the bedrooms, encased in dust. You sneezed and found a chest with a lock on it. The chest was engraved with the letter “W” at the center. 

You recognized the engraving. It was the same handwriting from the bedroom door in the Wei Mansion. Your bedroom door...The keys.

You remembered you still had them in your pocket. It was a long shot but you pulled them out. You placed the key inside of the lock and opened the chest.

You found seven porcelain dolls. The dolls were more sophisticated than any doll sold at the local stores. They were almost lifelike. The way their eyes and lips were drawn. Each doll bared a striking resemblance to the Wei brothers. You could see them all: Kun, Ten, Winwin, Lucas, Xiaojun, Hendery, and…

Yangyang.

The last doll was definitely Yangyang. The doll held a toy violin and wore…

Your ruby red mittens.

Fin.

_______

Epilogue.

Yangyang sat in the music room alone, holding on tightly to your red mittens.

Hendery charged into the room. His brothers trailed behind. “You fool! Why did you let her go?”

Yangyang shrugged. “I’ve had it.”

“What are you talking about?” Xiaojun demanded. “You were smitten with her. She was clearly enamored with you.”

Kun laughed. “It’s because he’s in love with her.”

All of the boys looked at their oldest brother, confused. Yangyang avoided their stares.

“You changed your mind,” Kun murmured.

Yangyang sighed, “She was not like-”

Winwin rolled his eyes. “Please do not give us the story of ‘she was not like other girls’. She seduced you and you let her go. You fell for her game. She outsmarted you.”

Yangyang snapped. “Do not test me, brother.”

Ten interjected. “Okay, okay, everyone needs to calm down...We are just curious...Why? She could have stayed here with us forever...With you forever.”

Yangyang didn’t want to speak to them. Every moment that passed, he missed you more. “She did not wear the jewels or the dresses...She left everything untouched. She did not come to us because she sought material possessions. She wanted a friend…”

Lucas laughed. “How pathetic.”

Yangyang groaned. “You lot would not understand…”

“Do not act like you are better than us, little brother,” Kun began condescendingly.

“I am not-”

“You think you’re better than us because you let a prisoner go this time, do you not? Well, let me bring you back to reality. Our spirits are confined into those tacky porcelain dolls...So what do we do to ease ourselves? We bring people into this realm to reside with us. Materialistic, selfish, and vain people. Y/n is no different from the rest of them.”

“Shut up,” Yangyang muttered.

The rest of the boys were stunned to silence but Kun heard him clearly. “Repeat that, Yangyang. You know the consequences.”

Yangyang got up and shoved your mittens in his pockets. “Shut up, Kun.”

Kun smiled and laughed. The other boys faked laughter so as not to upset Kun even more. His smile quickly faded as he punched Yangyang to the ground.

Kun gave Yangyang a harsh beating and the rest of the brothers watched. No one dared to step in and upset Kun even further. Yangyang couldn’t blame his brothers. Besides, he wanted this. He wanted to feel a pain other than the pain of missing you. 

He may have been damned for the rest of eternity but he was thankful to have met you. You proved to him that not everyone could be consumed by the deadly sins, as he and his brothers had. You were an angel that gave you a moment of compassion, of affection. And for that he would always be thankful.

_______

Come back tomorrow the third installment in our Halloween Series! :) 

[nsfsprince]

Hold Me Close (And Watch Me Coast)

As a Dragon Hybrid, Roman’s body is easily twice as big as the average human’s, let alone Logan’s. So, it’s really no surprise that sex between the two with their vast size difference is.. incredibly intense.

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N: Sooo.. This fic is like, incredibly self-indulgent? There’s unfortunately little to no plot, just steamy activities and a an expansion on this au’s take on Roman, Remus, and Patton’s Human/Dragon hybrid anatomy.(and a guilty acknowledgement that this au is, at its baseline, all about the size difference kink by default akdladklj) This is technically their first time together, not counting the numerus times they ended up grinding against each other till they came. (also i’m like extremely nervous/embarrassed posting this aight)

MINORS DNI

Warnings: Size Kink/Size Difference Kink, no like this is Very Intense Take on Size Kink(you’ve been warned), edging, vague descriptions of distinctly Not Human Genitalia(that may get drawn later but shh), gentle but intense penetrative sex, heavy descriptions reflective of deep penetration kink(?), Roman doesn’t directly check in like he should but he’s watching over Logan’s reactions like a hawk, plus Logan is completely on board the entire time, Overstimulation, lots of dirty talk and praise. A slight deviation on how human anatomy works to avoid actual realistic bodily repercussions and maintain a willing suspension of disbelief. If I missed anything please let me know!

Additionally, thank you all for your encouragement to post this(or anything to this blog for that matter), it’s genuinely  appreciated and has helped so much!!

----------

Logan couldn’t help but squirm, his bound hands fisting the soft sheets of Roman’s nest as said Dragon oh so slowly fingered him open. Filthy praise had been dripping from Roman’s lips with every maddingly slow press into his entrance, the pads of his large fingers just barely toying with Logan’s prostate to keep him squirming and gasping.

They’d been at this for what felt like hours, though truly Logan really couldn’t be sure how long they had been at this. Every time Logan would near a peak, Roman would withdraw his fingers and press infuriatingly slow and soothing kisses to his shoulders until the peak had drifted far enough to begin again. It was pleasurable torture and Logan was losing his goddamn mind.

“When you promised you’d prep me, I didn't think it would mean ‘edge me to tears,’” Logan had groaned during one of those long pauses, having nearly come from the fourth thick finger prodding into his hole before Roman had pulled away.

“Oh love, you've never taken a cock as big as mine before, and trust me when I say I’m adamant to have you orgasm the moment you’re seated completely on my cock. Then, once you’re finally fully lax and loose from that first mind-melting orgasm, I’ll get to give you a real Dragon Railing. I'll pull out every single orgasm left inside of you and then another,

“I'll come inside again and again and fill you up so full. I’ll pleasure you till your orgasms dry and even then still pull just a few more 'til I know you'll still be feeling my Claim in you for weeks after.” The Dragon purred.

Logan visibly shuttered at the statement, his cock twitching in interest at the promise.

"Of course, there's also the added benefit of my Magic. It'll keep your body healthy and stable as I practically rearrange your guts over, and over, and over," Roman continued, a large hand cupping over Logan's weeping cock and giving it a tight teasing squeeze.

Logan's thighs trembled as Roman's re-slicked fingers pressed back inside, scissoring him open just that extra bit more as he laved a sharp kiss just behind his whining sub's ear.

Logan could scarcely understand it, just how much he wanted what Roman was promising, his half-hard cock eagerly dripping precum onto the soft sheets below. 

He knows that Roman is big, he's seen it at rest through Roman's likely purposefully tight trousers time and time again. He knows that even when soft, he could still easily choke on just the head alone. 

 It wasn't exactly surprising though, considering Roman was himself a Dragon/Human Hybrid, and thus his entire body was at least twice as large as Logan, if not more. At a staggering 6'10", Roman's broad and muscular stature easily dwarfed Logan's stout 5'4" body, right down to the size of their cocks.

He also knows full well that it is going to ruin him mentally, knowing he'll never be satisfied with anything other than Roman. Maybe Logan just has a bit of a thing for his lover's size at this point, or maybe he doesn't. Maybe he just loves anything and everything that's Roman. He doesn't mind that fact either, seeing as Roman is the only one he's ever loved like this, and is the only one he plans to spend the rest of his life with anyway.

 And he was more sure than ever, laying there pinned and having been edged to hell and back for who knew how long, that he desperately wanted Roman to utterly ruin him with his monstrous cock.

For a moment his entire worldview narrowed down to those four large fingers thrusting back and forth into his hole, now unhesitatingly stimulating his prostate. He keened and cried out, unable to buck into it with Roman's free hand keeping his hips in an iron grasp.

Right as he felt the now familiar feeling of his peak readying to crash down around him once more, Roman pulled out and away all together.

He let out a confused whine at the complete loss of his lover's weight over him, unable to look or move to find him with his arms still bound under him.

"Shh, shh, I'm right here my little mouse. I haven't left you," the Dragon soothed softly, briefly resting a grounding hand on the dip between Logan’s shoulders as the sound of shuffling clothing and slick movements filled the air.

All at once, Roman's weight returned, and Logan found his knees pushed apart by Roman's own coming to press in between them. Roman's scaled bare chest pressed searingly hot against Logan's own similarly unclothed torso, his large muscled arms bracketing in Logan's chest and shoulders on either side. His head dropped, pressing a gentle soothing kiss to his favorite spot near the crook of Logan's neck.

Any words Logan had been planning to say were flushed out with the shuttering gasp that escaped him. His thoughts scrambling as the thick unusually tapered head of Roman's slick cock rubbed teasingly against his hole for a moment or two, before finally, finally starting to sink inside.

Logan could not be faulted for the absolutely embarrassing keen that escaped him when Roman's hips gradually bore down with all his weight to sink his cock inside. He could feel through where their back and chest met how Roman’s chest was rumbling with a deeply pleased, nearly subsonic growl.

"Relax, little mouse, you're still so tight inside love. How am I going to bounce you on my cock soon if you don't relax?" Roman purred, one arm curling around and pulling up Logan's hips to ease the other's strain, "Think about how good it'll feel once I'm fully inside. Good little mouse, that's it, relax."

The prince found himself whimpering helplessly, his trembling back arching and shaking knees trying to spread wider to accommodate for the Dragon's unyielding massive cock. Roman's four thick fingers had just barely opened him up enough to actually keep it from being truly painful, barely keeping it to just a deep pleasurable ache. 

It was all he could do to keep his trembling body lax, barely restraining himself from clenching down when inch after ribbed inch proved thicker than the last. Even wilder, he could still feel where the large tapered head was inside, spearing deeper than Logan had ever thought he was capable of experiencing- And the length still just kept coming.

 It felt like ages before Roman finally buried his cock as far as it would go without continuing any painful forcing. Logan's hard little cock was weeping precum steadily, the other's monster of a cock pressing relentlessly into every sweet spot he didn't even know existed.

Roman finally stills, lightly worrying a few hickies into the skin of Logan's shoulders and throat with his teeth, waiting for Logan to adjust.

The prince could barely tell how he felt. it was undeniably heady, at least, to feel his lover so deep that his stomach ached in protest. His upper torso alongside his jaw had gone lax in pure awe, eyes screwed shut as his trembling legs were now completely useless at keeping him up. If it weren't for Roman's strong arm holding his hips up, Logan probably would have collapsed completely to the floor by now. That is, unless the other's massive cock could have ended up also keeping his poor hips in place, if given the chance that it remained stuck inside. An experiment for another day, surely.

"How are you feeling, love?" Roman purred, his voice cautious and calculating.

"Hnng" Logan keened artfully in response, clenching around the others cock in retaliation. He wouldn't see Roman's pleased grin in response, too deep in subspace and blissed out to suspect his lover's next act of mischief.

"Good boy, being so good for me. Alright then, going up!" Roman purred deviously.

Suddenly Logan found his entire body shifting as Roman pinned him to his chest and pulled him upright onto his lap. The Dragon settled down to the floor just enough to still maintain their balance as he let gravity pull Logan back down onto his cock.

The momentum that carried him pulled him perfectly back down the inch and a half he'd lost on the way up, before pressing him even further down as his weight additionally settled into position over the others cock.

That deep protesting ache in his stomach returned twice as loud from the sharp prodding the head of Roman's cock gave. It made Logan want to squirm away for the sharp few overwhelming seconds that he was stuck feeling it before suddenly feeling Roman’s hands press down on his hips. His head jerked back with a strangled moan as the tip of Roman's cock testingly pressed even deeper at the action.

And then Logan finds his hips suddenly flush with Roman's and the last inch and a half of Roman's cock plunging completely inside him. The deep ache that had sharpened with the final push was suddenly overwhelming his senses, and was inexplicably starting to feel really fucking good now as the head of the others cock seemed to finally manage and get.. even deeper, somehow. 

Logan's hips instinctually jerk after a moment, purely overwhelmed with the cacophony of signals being sent to his brain, finally spiking that deep ache into a kaleidoscope of pure oversensitive pleasure. Before he can even really process the feeling it has him practically shouting Roman's name as he peaks harshly and comes all over his heaving chest and twitching hips.

Roman's hands pin their hips together, rutting slowly to continue carefully stimulating Logan's trembling body through his first orgasm. Eventually he paused to let Logan collapse against his chest, the prince obviously lost to his fucked-out bliss.

"We've only just gotten started, are you spent so soon, little Mouse?" Roman purred delightedly.

Logan just whimpered, dazedly shaking his head and spreading his legs once more even as it created a feedback loop with that terrible, wonderful, blissful ache.

"Good Boy."

[nitewrighter]

So I just read your answer to an ask about Pre-fall Genji and Mercy (The one where Genji watches Mercy fly in the practice range/Moira berates Genji while healing him or smthn) and I love it! Any chance we could get a short follow-up where Genji (eventually) tells Mercy what happened on the mission/what happened coming back from the mission?

Ah, referring back to this fic?

Well the thing about Moira is that in my fic continuity, the cover story for Moira is that Overwatch pushed her to resign after that scandal with her paper, and her involvement with Blackwatch was kept largely secret, even from Mercy, up until my pre-retribution fic. So when Moira was a problem for Genji, he couldn’t really talk about it with Mercy due to Overwatch and Blackwatch’s own fucked up compartmentalization. So after Retribution there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Also Genji’s comments during Retribution and Reyes going “The Ninja agrees with me!” are.... oof. And... whoops the “let me explain what happened/clearing the air” prompt turned into an argument.

Welp. Not all those late-night chats were easy...

----

The knock on the door of the lab caught Mercy mid-yawning stretch. It was still early in the evening at Zurich headquarters, lavender twilight light bleeding over the mountain peaks out her window. Still early enough for it to be pretty much anyone who let this work chew up as much of their personal life as hers. Ana, she thought, heading to the door, About the updated humanitarian projects in Giza, probably. Or maybe Sarioglu about the inoculations on the Siberian--

The door slid open and Genji was standing before her in a loose gray long-sleeved shirt, not his usual Blackwatch hoodie. His arms were folded against himself, his shoulders tucked slightly inwards. He stood up a little straighter as the door opened.

“Doctor Ziegler,” he said her name almost with some surprise, as if she had suddenly materialized in front of him rather than been working in the same lab they had spent countless nights chatting in before.

“...It’s been a while, Genji,” she tried to make her voice warm, but wasn’t sure what he was here for. The dust was almost beginning to settle from the Venice incident, but she had seen virtually nothing of him since that painful exchange in the rec room. The Venice incident itself was still being picked over in longer term publications, and it would definitely keep giving all the news outlets investigative journalism fodder for months to come, but Blackwatch was suspended and a significant amount of its resources had been re-allocated to other Overwatch departments for the duration of its suspension, which was enough for most news outlets to let it drift to the side in favor of more recent events.

There were a few seconds where he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he said, “I can go if you’re busy--” He wasn’t making eye contact.

“N-no--” her fingers tensed on the doorframe, “I mean...” she moved aside slightly, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

His eyes met hers and softened for.a few seconds before he caught himself and shuffled into the room, as if the offer might be rescinded. As he had gotten more used to his prosthetics and more settled in with Blackwatch, he had come to carry himself with what some might call grace--a grace that was heavily overshadowed and sharpened by the smoldering anger in his eyes and asymmetry of his prosthetics, but a grace that still spoke to his years of physical and mental conditioning with the Shimada clan. Now, however, his movements were smaller, clumsier even---reminding her almost of their early days of physical therapy and his flinching self-containment, the way he would shrink inside hoodies and skulk in corners.

“So... what are you up to tonight?” he asked, looking around the lab. 

“Just some correspondence,” Mercy shrugged, “There’s... been a lot.”

Piles and piles of emails from former colleagues and activists furious at the fact that I continue to associate myself with Overwatch after this scandal, she thought, And maybe I could deal with them all by releasing a personal statement, but how much of that would just come off as me trying to save face while throwing Overwatch under the bus?

“Not about Venice?” Genji stiffened a little where he stood

“Yes, about Venice,” she folded her arms, her gaze was steady and tired.

“But---that’s not fair. Nothing we did there had anything to do with you--” Genji was genuinely confused.

“Blackwatch is still Overwatch’s responsibility,” said Mercy, “And if there was evidence of weaponized biotics on site, naturally people have questions for me and, of course,” a huffing, uncomfortable chuckle escaped her, “Everything I stand for in working for Overwatch.” 

Genji’s thick eyelashes lowered over the red of his eyes in a combination of frustration and guilt. “I... meant to talk to you about that when I got back...”

Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she turned back to her chair and sat down in it.

“How long was Moira on your team?” she said quietly.

“She... joined about two months after Jack made her tender her resignation,” said Genji, “I was with Reyes the night he recruited her.” 

Mercy’s lips thinned and she wasn’t looking at him. “So... how did it work? Would she just... cartoonishly avoid being seen by hiding behind vending machines? Dipping around corners?”

“I never actually saw much of her in Zurich or Rome. Reyes usually had her working remotely at a black site. The attack on Rome forced us to bring her into Zurich for her own safety and for our response to the attack.”

“So the resignation was all just theater to put her somewhere where she would have even less oversight and accountability,” Mercy’s lips were pulling back from her teeth in frustration.

“I... don’t really know the specifics of it,” said Genji.

Mercy was silent at this, sitting with her hands in her lap. 

“Angela,” he said her name and she looked up at him, “Believe me, if it weren’t for Blackwatch’s procedures, I would have told you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you---”

So many times I wanted you to help... he thought.

“Jack knew?” Mercy said quietly.

“He knew, to an extent,” said Genji, “To be fair, even McCree and I didn’t really know what she was doing at the black site... I suppose we also didn’t want to know.”

“And everyone’s been letting her tinker with my biotics doing god-knows-what to them and then leaving that ugly smear of what was once my work at the site of an act of--of---I don’t know what to call it--Extrajudicial murder?”

“Angela...” he brought up his prosthetic hand, apparently with the intention of putting it on her shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and drew it close to himself, “If I had known Reyes’s actions would impact you like this---”

“So Reyes’s actions are only wrong because they’re negatively impacting me,” said Mercy flatly, “Not because, I don’t know, it’s utterly horrific to shoot someone in the face while in the process of making an arrest?”

Genji was taken slightly aback by her bitterness. Then again... there was a decent chance she had been dealing with whatever angry emails from people all over the world who wanted her to answer for Blackwatch’s actions for several days now. But Blackwatch did the right thing, didn’t it?

“Antonio’s weapons trafficking with Talon was probably killing far more people than that...” Genji floated the words out there, assuming they might calm her down, “If it meant stopping him--”

“’Probably?’” Mercy’s voice was incredulous. She huffed, trying to process, “That-that’s not how this works, Genji. That’s not how the law is supposed to work. You don’t kill people on ‘Probablies!’” 

“The law wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. He bragged that he had allies who would get him out within the week.” 

“That doesn’t mean you kill him!”

“I didn’t kill him, Reyes did! I just--!” Genji huffed, the sound was metallic behind his faceplate, “Look, the Shimada clan are weapons traffickers, too. I know what kind of person we were dealing with.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, what matters is the proper procedures! If Overwatch can’t hold itself to those standards, then we can’t call ourselves peacekeepers!” 

“Reyes brought me on the team because I’m an assassin,” Genji’s voice was unsettlingly even.

“You were brought on the team because you have unique intel and skills---”

“From being raised to be an assassin,” there was a smoldering frustration in Genji now, stepping toward Mercy, “Don’t confuse what you want me to be with what I am.” 

Mercy seemed to visibly wince at this. She glared up into his red eyes, her own gray-blue eyes bloodshot from staring at her screens. “Don’t confuse who you are with what’s convenient for Reyes,” she said darkly, “If you don’t see anything wrong with what Reyes did, then Jack suspending Blackwatch was the best call he could make.”

Genji’s skin was burning with fury beneath his faceplate. “Oh and I’m just supposed to sit on my hands and watch the Shimada clan continue to kill people because Blackwatch has to be suspended for Reyes’ mistake.”

“Yes, Genji! That’s how accountability works!” Mercy was wringing her hands. 

“So you’re willing to let--You weren’t-- you have no idea what I-- You--!” Genji was stumbling over his words, his anger seemed to be mashing the ability to translate in his head down into an angry pulp of Japanese with a few english swear words peppered in. He took a sharp seething inhale. “You know what? I’m leaving.”

“Fine!” Mercy threw the word after him as he turned on his heel and stepped out the door of the lab. 

He snarled with frustration beneath his faceplate as he quickly walked down the hall. Folding his arms tight across himself as he stepped into the elevator.

She doesn’t know, she wasn’t there so she has no right to talk about it like... Genji’s organic fingers squeezed on his prosthetic arm, Like... 

He took another breath. Fine, he thought, It’s fine. I’m sick of her acting like I’m anything other than... he looked at his prosthetic hand and realized he was shaking. He closed his fingers into a fist before stepping out of the elevator, still walking, angrily and quickly through the Blackwatch offices towards his own quarters. save for the small lights lining the pathways between desks and offices, Blackwatch was virtually pitch-black.

“Trouble in paradise?” a low melodious voice sounded across the underground offices and Genji flinched to see Moira barely illuminated by the multiple screens of Reyes’s main intel computer, holding a tablet in one hand and a lowball glass of whiskey in the other. She was donning that horn-like reverse biofeed, apparently lazily scrolling through some lab work. Shouldn’t the UN have seized it with the suspension? thought Genji.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genji said curtly before continuing to walk.

“Personally I like when she gets all sanctimonious while Overwatch is actively screwing her over,” Moira looked back down at her tablet before sipping her whiskey. Genji stopped walking. “Reminds me of those little dogs yapping on the ends of leashes, and then their owners just get tired of them and scoop them up... and there’s a life story in 10 seconds. No power to begin with and all you can do is bark and bark--”

“If you talk about Doctor Ziegler like that again, you’ll--” Genji caught himself.

“Ah. So you were haunting her door,” Moira’s eyebrows raised with some amusement.

“You don’t know,” said Genji, stiffly.

“I know you’re easy to read,” said Moira, not even looking up from her tablet, “And I know we’re all slaves to habit. So what happened?”

“Nothing I’m sharing with you,” said Genji walking forward.

“That’s fine,” Moira kept scrolling through her tablet as Genji walked past her.

She was only a few steps behind him when she spoke up again. “I understand how deeply it stings, when you realize you’re not the person someone built up in their head.”

Genji paused again, his shoulders bunching up, and he glanced back at her.

“But I’ve also always had great admiration for those who know exactly who and what they are. I like to think it’s why Blackwatch was as efficacious as it was.... despite... some personality clashes,” she gave an easy shrug.

Genji was silent for a few seconds. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m only saying that you have my sympathy for finally understanding the difference between those up there,” she nodded up to the ceiling, to the upper levels of Overwatch, “And those of us down here.” 

Something prickled in Genji then. He remembered the weight of his father’s hands on his shoulders, saying, You have to understand, this is who we are. And Genji tensed then. 

“You’re not alone, Genji, that’s all I’m saying,” said Moira, sipping her whiskey.

“Good night, Moira,” was all Genji managed to say as he walked off.

[lunarrwolf]

mini series coming soon!!

since you guys got me over 300 followers, i held up my end of my own deal and was finally able to think up the first of a 100% written series (social media included only when needed to build the story).

there will only be two for now but i want to get the sykkuno series a good ways in before bringing in new content like this! i’ve been a writer since middle school and have major writer’s block for a book i’m working on rn so i’m really excited about writing an actual story for lunarrwolf! these are the banners, very tiny synopses, and sneak peek excerpts for DAYWALKER!s and Siren Woods

s.h warning: siren woods will not be for the faint of heart as it will be put in the category of a psychological thriller. it will contain suspense, fear(s), anxiety and/or mentions of depression, isolation and swearing

d.w!s warning: this is an apocalyptic world w/o zombies. it will contain violence, anxiety, entrapment, fear(s) and swearing

disclaimer: i will do my absolutely best not to treat either of these as if they were actual novels. i plan on putting in comedic lines and scenes to lower any thriller/horror vibes from the stories, and not too go too far to avoid truly triggering myself or anyone else. warnings will only be issued in chapters that are going to actually include one or more of above the above. but if anyone who reads them in the future have issues do not feel like you need to keep reading.

-

DAYWALKER!s

a variety youtuber mini series

summary

ten creators find themselves amidst a city with an oddly familiar vibe, a weird yet intimidating apocalyptic appearance, and hundreds of strangers that feel the need to do nothing but fight their way through the city. even if that means to the death.

excerpt

“You’re all going to die, you know.. so you might as well give up now and let it take over.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You blinked at the growl woven in with your friend’s deep voice, knowing for sure that if you were in an animation a sweat drop would be making its way down the side of your head. He hated confrontation more than anyone here but when it came to his friends, and being trapped in a place like this? Who knew what damage he would do to keep them safe.

The man ahead of the group did nothing but stand there with a mocking grin on his face. It was unnerving, and dare say almost bloodthirsty. There was no amount of sanity or free will from where you all stood just a couple of yards away, and just that thought alone chilled you to the core.

“Corpse.. maybe you shouldn’t.” You stated, stepping closer to him to lower the risk of the strange man hearing the second part. “I don’t like the looks of that guy even from over here. We’ve already had to deal with a ton of crazy shit since finding each other. We can’t risk losing our only real muscle of the group.”

Ignoring the offended voices of Sean and Ludwig, the man with the torn mask looked at you only when you put a hand on his shoulder. It took sharing glances and seeing head shakes from most of the others to have him loosen the fist his hand was already in. Standing up straight, you watched as he rolled his shoulders, jaw still clenched from the tension. Rae was taking advantage of the off putting interaction and explored the small area, so capturing everyone’s attention when Corpse relaxed a bit wasn’t hard. “It’s gonna be a tight fit but I think we can make it work.”

“Whoa.”

“Where did you learn how to hotwire a car?” Ethan questioned, being the first to make his way toward the beaten vehicle.

“Video games?” The brunette answered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She hit the side of the driver door twice, motioning to the group. “Now get your asses in here before that guy decides to pull a Resident Evil zombie sprint on us.”

“Yes ma’am.” Sykkuno saluted, earning chuckles that were a rare sight since ending up here. The two of you didn’t waste time in calling the front seats beside Rae and Ethan, forcing everyone else to get in the back of the truck and make it work. No one could complain, though, seeing the circumstances you were all in.

It took a few seconds of revving the seemingly old engine before the machine began making its way. You could actually hear the ones in the back shift around to get in more comfortable positions for however long a ride it would be. The girl behind the wheel didn’t pay any mind to the stranger that watched her drive you all away, but you did. And even when he continued to shrink in distance and eventually disappeared, you knew his words would stay with you.

“You’re wasting your time! No one gets out of Mirror City!!”

Siren Woods

a variety youtuber mini series

summary

seven internet personalities find themselves in the middle of an old town myth as they take a break from their careers and head up towards a rural mountain area. among every spooky or jumpy experience with a horror game here and there, never did any of them think they’d end up in this situation.

excerpt

The fire crackled with a sense of release, almost as if this large flame represented the time everyone needed away from their jobs. After how crazy the media has become the past few weeks, you and your friends agreed that a trip towards a much lesser known area would do you all well. It was a teenagers on summer break scene where everyone was gathered around a campfire in the backyard of a lake house, telling stories to either amuse or scare each other. Seán and Ethan were the first to do so, tag teaming in a very dramatic reenactment of the first time they met in person, which of course had to be followed by your own scene with Y/F/N.

Time flew by and before you knew it, the sun was completely set and the darkest shade of navy possible was barely lit with a crescent moon and a few stars. The only real source of light was the fire, illuminating the six faces in an orange glow. Any laughter died down minutes ago, leaving a silence that was comfortable for everyone. “You guys want to hear a funny story?”

Squinting at the man sitting in the log across from you, you leaned forward, hands folded in your lap. “Funny haha or funny we might want to kill you after we hear it?”

“Uh..” Corpse met your gaze immediately, his mask somehow looking more eerie with the natural lighting. “Funny kind of hoping you won’t kill me, if I’m being honest.” He confirmed, leaning forward himself to warm up his hands while the rest of you debated on whether to let him tell it.

After a few minutes, and three overtaking two, he was allowed to do so. It was an old myth of the town you all resided in for the week; a Slenderman type of entity of the forest that the locals from dozens of years before chose to call Siren Head. The name stuck once old photos were found and set up in the small museum in the Common. He stood at forty feet tall, with two megaphones for heads and tangled wires for a torso. He had the ability to perfectly mimic broadcasts, conversations, sirens and screams, and had been said to only emit white noise if ever asleep. Speed nearly matched that of a cheetah and his strength was unbelievably high due to his size. Every sighting of said species had only been released by victims, and it was an urban tale that stood alive to this very day.

Rae was on the grass now, legs crossed one over the other as she tried to look at everyone at once. “Why the hell did we all come to a place called Siren Woods, then?!”

“Well.. the town looked really nice online, and it’s living up to that. And I thought siren meant more mermaid than a freaky Creepypasta-type thing.” Sykkuno could do nothing but respond with nerves showing through his face and every subtle movement of his body as he explained why he ended up agreeing with the destination.

“Yeah, I did too.” Y/F/N piped in, shrugging her innocence as you all began telling your sides. “Who doesn’t think of a mermaid when you hear the word siren?! That’s basically what they are.”

“I, for one, think we should find another place to stay.” Ethan spoke up.

Seán gaped at his longest friend in the group, “You don’t actually believe in that.”

“I’m not taking any chances, dude. Those people believe in that thing enough to build a whole section of the museum for it.”

You watched your friends go back and forth, some freaked out by the story but not believing it was real while the rest wanted to find a new vacation spot. “What do you think, Y/N?”

You turned to Corpse, blinking as the simple question processed in your mind. “I’m with Ethan on this.. even if that thing isn’t an actual being the belief here is hardcore.” Three faces lit up in relief while the roommate, Irishman, and faceless internet persona felt differently. “Let me finish..” you sighed, “Let’s stay another night but keep an extra cautious eye on Spencer and Luna. Animals have a sort of sixth sense, so if anything weird happens they’ll warn us. Deal?”

Y/F/N shared a glance with you, letting out a sigh of her own. “Suddenly I’m feeling a lot better that we brought our dogs instead of getting sitters.” She bent down to pet the canines laying between the logs, hoping if they did bark it would just be from a resident knocking on the door.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.6}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 1.4k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

A glimpse into the fifth week of travels (or the fourth week of July):

"This place is incredible!" Robin marveled at the high columns and the even higher ceiling that spanned out so far into the distance that it was too dark to see. She was impressed beyond measure, taken aback by the sheer size and grandeur even though she couldn't see all of the hall they had just entered. And a hall it really seemed to be, like the open space of a cathedral, but ancient, underground, and filled to a third at least with deep black water. The only dry space posed the stairs at the edge of the grand room, which were running along the wall from the high entrance level down to the deep blackness. That was where they were currently descending to.

"Fascinating indeed." Snape replied in equal curiosity about the unique place, as he followed Robin down the narrow staircase, all the way down to where it led into the water. "Do you think it has always been flooded like this?"

"I honestly have no idea. Neither do I know how a ten foot fish is supposed to live down here, nor how it's gotten to this place."

"Well, what do you know about this place then?"

"Not much, admittedly. I only read about its existence in a book that's older than I even care to admit, as well as some specifics about the living conditions in places like this in the country."

"Places like this? I sincerely doubt there are other places like this anywhere in the world at all."

"Well… not exactly like this, of course. But water and darkness and no movement nor exchange of streams… that's probably close enough." Robin replied softly, but even in their quiet tones, their voices echoed off the high stone ceiling and distant walls in an eerie manner. In addition to the lumos' bright but cold toned greenish light, the entire place had an otherworldly feel to it in general. Like it wanted to swallow them with its darkness, and their little bubble of light served as their only protection.

"So tell me, why exactly didn't you want to tell me what exactly today's method is going to look like? Acquiring a giant fish's scale surely isn't as easy as simply 'going fishing'." Snape inquired as they reached the edge of the water, and he observed with a curious frown how Robin simply dropped her backpack on a higher step in the security of the dry.

"You wouldn't have believed me if I had told you, so I'll just have to show you." Robin replied in amusement, smirking to herself for making things a mystery for once. This was one of her newest theories, she had only come up with it in the first week of summer while bored at her parents' house. In that sense, it was as unrefined as it would get. And yet here they were, seeing as finding the right place at least had proven to be a success. Hopefully the next step would, too. "And I haven't really tried this before either, so consider it a Plan A, for now."

"You never cease to build suspense…" He sighed in return, and his frown only grew when Robin took off her boots and socks and placed them next to her bag. "...and you never cease to confuse me either; what exactly are you doing? Certainly not going for a swim in that blackness, which is inhabited by who knows which horrors, are you?"

"I don't have a deathwish, no." Robin laughed in return, and gave him one of her most reassuring smiles. "I just want to try out something. If it doesn't work, we can go over to Plan B, alright?"

"Fine."

"Would you, uh…" Now there was the part where Robin could technically do it alone, but honestly didn't want to. Her heart was beating faster than it should anyhow, and asking for help, even if for this kind of help, certainly wouldn't change that for the better. "Would you give me your hand? Please?"

After two seconds of surprise or confusion, or both perhaps, Snape did as she had asked without a comment and Robin held onto him tightly as she took a deep breath. Really, holding his hand never ceased to overwhelm her senses with rushes of energy and tingles. But they were here to work, and she had asked to hold his hand for entirely professional reasons. Well, almost entirely… She tried to ignore it either way and went on with the plan. For a short moment she focused on the spell she had come up with those few weeks ago, took another deep breath, and then took one large step forward into the water. Or rather, onto the water.

An instantaneous relief overcame her as she saw that it actually had worked, she was standing on top of the water's surface just as she had planned. A few reluctant steps around the staircase on top of the deep water confirmed that her spell was working perfectly fine, and yet she still stayed close enough to still hold onto Snape's hand. Bloody hell, she really could walk on water. Amazing! With the biggest smile on her face, she looked up from her rolled up jeans and naked feet to Snape in front of her, who only seemed beyond surprised at what he saw.

"Impressed?" Robin couldn't help asking with a smirk, and she positively noted how it was him now who held onto her hand tightly. Perhaps he was afraid she would go under and vanish after all…

"How?" Was all he asked after a few seconds of silence.

"Well, you see, when I thought of this spell I had some inspiration from my parents' guests from the US… Very religious people, they keep talking about God and Jesus all day, and I'm sure you can see the connection to the spell there. And from that point forth, it really was only a day's worth of research." She shrugged with the very same smile as before. "The spell freezes the surface of the water in time. Or to start explaining at the beginning, I had to think of skipping tones over the water. They touch the surface for a very brief time only, and therefore they don't go under. To recreate that effect I would either have to be really really fast…"

"Or to slow the water down." He added with a sincerely impressed expression that made no secret of his utmost fascination, and perhaps even a little admiration as well. "How are you even able to mess with time? I haven't got the slightest idea about it, and neither should you."

"I researched time turners. Someone had to make them at some point, which means that there had to be spells to mess with time. Admittedly, reducing the effect to one specific thing, and especially something as vague as the surface of the water, was a bit more complicated, but still nothing I couldn't do in a day."

"Why am I even surprised by anything you do at this point…" He sighed, and then reluctantly let go of Robin's hand when she let go in return. She stayed standing on the water, which was a good sign, and even took a step further into the room, over the mirroring blackness below. Still, the concerned frown never left his face even as she turned back around to him. He opened and closed his mouth to speak a few times, before at last words came out along with it. "Be careful, yes?"

"Of course. But if it suddenly stops working for some reason, and I go under and drown, you'll get me out, right?" Robin asked while taking a few more careful steps over the water. Really, these questions were merely a method of reassuring herself; she knew the answer, but she still needed to hear it. "Because I really don't care for a run-in with any of the beasts living down there. If I mess up, you'll have my back as always… right?"

"Of course I will. As always."

"Good… Thank you."

"And what do you plan on doing now?"

Robin looked up at him once more, smirking already at the thought. "Now, I'm going to steal a giant fish's shiny scale."

______________________________

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[scaryscarecrows]

Will Trade Soup for Intel

Potential Gotham Knights ‘verse. For those who did not see the trailer: Bruce is dead (pfft, suuuuure he is), Jim Gordon is dead (Jim, no!), the Court of Owls appears (this is gonna be bad), Batgirl and Robins 1-3 have guardianship of Gotham. For this piece: Penguin is also dead. Dove has his operation. And the flu. :p

***

Tim’s not sure where he thought Jason was going to take him. Honestly, because it’s Jason, he was sort of thinking, ‘seedy hole in the wall where retired hitmen go’. Or something. Or maybe an orphanage, or an under-the-bridge camp; the Alley Kids don’t throw bottles and needles at him, unlike the others. They demand rides.

(Yeah, it’s funny but also scary to see the Red Hood, known for his duffle bag of heads, giving a little girl a piggyback ride.)

This is not one of those places. This is some apartment building in midtown with a doorman and everything. And, y’know, it’s daytime, which...they don’t operate in the daytime that much unless they’re undercover, and they don’t appear to be. Jason told Tim to dress like a real boy and stick his domino on in the elevator, but he’s wearing what he always does; jeans, hoodie, heavy boots. And he’s carrying a brown bag that smells like soup. No helmet in sight, and Tim knows he won’t wear a domino now. They bug the scar*, he says.

“Where are we?”

“To see an old friend. I’m out of other ideas.”

“What, are they a conspiracy professor or something?”

“No.”

The doorman waves them through and they wait for an empty elevator. Jason presses the third-floor button and settles in, adjusting the bag in his arms. For all the crap they give...gave...Bruce about theatrics, Jason’s no better. He lives for building the suspense. Tim had nearly murdered him again for that stupid monk joke. Asshole. Ten minutes from his life, and for that? Humph.

A cotton face mask whaps him in the chest while he’s adjusting his domino and he frowns.

“What.”

“You’re fragile, and she’s got the flu, which is why we’re here in the daytime. I’m basically immune after my, um, upgrade points got cashed in, but you are a Victorian maiden who'll probably turn it into tuberculosis and die and I can’t deal with Dick after that.”

Huh.

…

Whatever. You lose one spleen…

He puts the mask on, too, making sure Jason sees his glower, just as the elevator dings to a halt.

Tim starts to suspect they’re not invited, exactly, when Jason shoves the bag at him and drops down to pick the lock. Though he does knock and call, “Don’t get up!”, so.

“There. Give me that before you spill something...hey, Miss Marquis! I brought soup!”

…

Jason couldn’t have just told him this, why?

There’s furious coughing in the other room, followed by movement, and a minute later Dove shuffles out, wrapped in a blanket and wearing what appear to be bunny slippers. She looks terrible.

“For the tenth time, I don’t care how immune you think you are, you’re going to get sick and I can take care of myself.”

“Haven’t gotten sick yet,” Jason says cheerfully. “‘Sides, it’s, like, partly a bribe.”

Dove doesn’t look convinced. Tim’s not convinced, either. Jason, when left to his own devices, can and will out-mother-hen Dick. He’s just usually scarier when he does it. More like Alfred.

Before any further argument can happen, Dove starts coughing again and winds up clutching the doorframe with one hand and holding the other up to keep Jason at bay.

“Thought you were gonna take Theraflu,” Jason says sulkily. Dove reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose.

“I will take it if I need it, Hood.” Tim sympathizes. Theraflu tastes like sadness. At least Robitussin is nice. “I promise this isn’t my first flu, I am fine. ” This is not a battle she’ll win. Tim knows. Tim has tried and failed. Jason had loomed at him and told him, oh-so-nicely, that he would take the Theraflu or that it would breach his defenses. “What do you want.”

Jason holds up the bag.

“Fridge or bowl?”

“Fridge, please.”

“Tea?”

“If I say yes, will you settle down?”

“For now.”

She sighs and totters over to an armchair.

“Fine.”

“What kind.”

“I’ve got some sort of zinger tea in there, that would be very nice.”

Jason vanishes into the kitchen. Dove sinks into her chair, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders, and waves at the couch.

“Siddown, Robin.”

“Sorry we broke in,” he says, because Jason won’t. Dove just shakes her head.

“This isn’t the first time or the last time,” she says. “At least you used the door...if you need a drink or somethin’, help yourself.”

Jason comes back, steaming mug in his hands.

“I’ll get it,” he says. “Bird boy here shouldn’t touch the kitchen.”

Slander.

“Nightwing’s worse.”

“Still. Here y’go.”

“Thanks, honey.” Dove leans up to take it before shooing him back. “Now. Why are you here.”

Jason settles onto the couch next to Tim and leans forward, worrying at his lower lip.

“This is going to sound crazy.”

“Well, that’s interesting.”

“Do you know anything about the Court of Owls?”

Dove snorts, coughs, and takes a sip of her tea.

“What?”

“You know…beware the court of owls that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch behind granite and lime. They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed. Speak not a whispered word of them--”

“Or they’ll send the Talon for your head, I know the rhyme.” She takes another sip. “It’s a scary story to keep kids in line, you know that.”

“We thought so, but.” He shrugs. “”Had a run-in with...something...last night that, um. Looked a little dead. But not dead like me, dead like...I don’t know. It was like it wasn’t human anymore. Or ever. I don’t know.”

Well, that’s a surprise. Tim wonders if Jason just straight-up admitted what happened or if Dove got it out of him or from some other source.

“Croc’s not human, either, kid.”

“No. This thing...I didn’t...I broke its neck and it fucking twisted it back into place.”

Dove frowns.

“You’re sure?”

“Uh-huh. And before that I emptied literally twelve bullets into this thing and it didn’t even flinch. I’m telling you, something wasn’t right and it was wearing an owl mask.”

Tim nods.

“There have been four murders committed with daggers that have owl insignias on them,” he says. “We think these two things are related.”

“Owl daggers?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I see one?”

“I brought a picture. The daggers are police evidence.”

“Like you boys didn’t borrow one,” she says, but sits up when Jason comes over with the phone. “I’ve seen something like this before.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“When?”

“Years ago, now. Penguin had one that he got from who-knows-where. It went missing one night-we chalked it up to Catwoman and let it go-but we did have people offer to buy it a few times. Generous offers, too.”

“He wouldn’t sell?” Odd. Penguin loved money almost as much as his pet birds. “Can you remember who offered?”

“Rich men, you know the type. They like...oddities.”

Tim does know the type. During Dick’s stint as Batman, he’d stumbled upon an auction house that specialized in some nasty things, including a very particular crowbar.

(Jason, as far as Tim knows, has no idea about this.)

“Did he say anything about it?”

“No. He put it in his office, in a little case, and honestly, I sort of figured someone had tried to kill him with it. He was funny about things like that.”

That’s an understatement. Penguin had been very proud of the bottle in his eye, among other things.

Dove starts coughing again and ends up setting her tea on the end table. Jason’s halfway over there when the coughs turn to sputters and she manages to wheeze out a, “Fine. M’fine.”

“This is why you should take Theraflu.”

“Honey…”

“I can make--”

“Hon.” He shuts up. “I’m okay. It’s just the flu, give me another week and I’ll be back to normal.” She takes a shuddery breath and picks up her tea again. “I promise. Now. I don’t.” Another shuddery breath, but no coughing this time. “I don’t know anything else off the top of my head, but. Little fuzzy.” She tugs at her blanket until it’s closed around her neck, just under her chin. “If anything comes up, I’ll let you know-ow- shit --”

The coughs don’t stop this time and she winds up bent nearly double, arms curled up to, presumably, brace her ribs. Ouch. When they finally wane, she’s red-faced and wheezing and looking fairly well miserable. Tim’s just about to nudge Jason when she stands up, clutching her mug in white, shaky fingers, and says, “I am going back to bed. Lock up behind yourselves.”

“Can we do anything?”

“No, hon. But thanks. You boys.” A finger goes up and she sort of... hics ...but nothing happens. “You boys stay safe. Don’t do anything. Anything reckless.”

Reckless? Humph. They’re not reckless. Adventurous, is Tim’s preferred term. So one time he leapt off a building knowing his grappler wasn’t working. Dick caught him, like he knew he would. It was leap or be eaten, and being eaten was by far the uglier choice.

“Reckless? Us?” Jason mock-gasps. “Thanks. Soup’s in the fridge. Want me to make you a Thera--”

“ No. Thank you.”

THE END

*I’m debating on whether or not that scar is Joker-related (could be an aborted Glasgow?) OR Batarang-caused: maybe Bruce hit his face rather than his throat in this version of UtRH. Either way, ow.

[chaotic-txt]

Flowers and Thorns [Hanahaki AU]

— Loving you is like living and dying at the same time. Won't you please love me back?

Yeonjun x Reader | One-shot | Angst

Warning/s: Mentions of blood, surgery and death, implied death

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

All it took was one look.

All it took was one smile.

You didn't even have to do anything, and yet he fell. He fell so deeply, madly in love with you.

Yeonjun never knew when and he also never knew why. All he knew was that he could not stop himself from loving you, and he won't be doing so.

Slowly but surely, he felt it. That fluttering feeling of being hit by the Cupid's arrow made his heart beat so fast, and heat would always rise up on his cheeks. Those sensations were unfamiliar, but it feels so natural for him.

As if he was destined to feel that way.

His love for you grew over time, like a new blossomed flower in the time of spring.

Yet it never occured to him that someday it would happen...literally.

He should've stopped himself while it was still early.

· — ✦ — ·

"Yeonjun, are you alright? You've been having coughs lately."

The blond boy flinched away at your touch. He never wanted to, but he did, afraid that you would find out the truth. He knew you could be so persuasive, and so he never took the risk of letting you know.

It would only worsen his state. It would hurt his heart furthermore. Yeonjun loves you, but he's sick of the pain it brings that were much like thorns that encircled up and around his throat.

It stung, but what could he do? He could only hide it behind his smiles, so that you'll never suspect of it.

"I'm– I'm fine, Y/N...Just let me walk you to your class now."

"Are you really sure though?" you asked while rubbing his back, "We can go to the clinic now while there's still time."

Yeonjun didn't answer, instead he pulled your arm and began to walk towards your classroom.

"Oh– hey, Soobin-ah!"

No wonder you suddenly stopped walking.

The two of you came face to face with a tall boy whose features resembled those of the rabbit's. He approached you two with a beaming smile and dimples that adorned his round face.

If only you knew he was the reason for Yeonjun's misery.

He was the thorns to his throat, the thorns on his flower.

"Junie-yah, just go see yourself to the clinic, okay? I'm worried for you. I have Soobin to walk me to our class anyway, so it's fine."

As much as he wanted to fight back, to insist and be with you, he surrendered in defeat and obliged with your request. His eyes followed the two of you walking away from him.

No matter what he'll do, he would always be weak for you.

· — ✦ — ·

"Hyung, mom's worried about you."

"...Did you tell her?"

The younger one shook his head side to side as a response, "No, you told me you'll tell her yourself."

"I don't think I will," Yeonjun croaked, with blood slightly dripping from his lips, "I don't want her to know."

Beomgyu could only offer a look of sympathy towards his older brother. He knew of his condition, and it pains to see him getting weaker day by day, coughing out petals with the occasional metallic fluid splattered on it.

He realized that love was beautiful like a flower, and deadly like thorns at the same time.

In this harsh world they're living in, if it's not reciprocated, it could lead to losing that certain feeling—just to save yourself, or worse;

It could lead into inevitable death.

Beomgyu doesn't want that. He doesn't want to lose his brother. But Yeonjun was just so hopelessly into you that he really turned a blind eye from what it does to him.

Beomgyu was tired of seeing his brother be a martyr for your love that you won't be able to give him someday, or any day for that matter.

It's why he keeps on insisting the only way that he could think of saving him.

"Why don't you just go into surgery?"

Yeonjun gave a warning glare towards the boy. He was not having this conversation again.

"Why don't you just have that flower be taken out of your system and–"

"Because I don't want to!"

It's funny how he could still raise his voice despite the pain that was still scratching inside his chest. Yeonjun was honestly tired from keeping track of the times his brother had asked that same question.

"I don't– I don't want to lose my feelings for her. You just don't understand how it feels!"

"But what you feel—that's what's going to kill you!"

Tears welled in Yeonjun's eyes as he faced the truth again. The truth that never failed to crush his hopes every single time that it haunted him.

"Believe me, I don't want to say this to you, Hyung," the raven haired boy sighed out, "but I don't think she'll ever love you. You have to stop this, before it gets worse."

With that, he left the room and closed the door, leaving Yeonjun alone within the confinements of those 4 walls, alone with his thoughts.

"...Did you really think I haven't told myself that for so many times, Beomgyu?"

· — ✦ — ·

The days went by quick, they turned into weeks, then months; and so has the suffering that grew even stronger. Small coughs here and there became worse. The condition came to the point of vomiting more blood and petals of what Yeonjun could tell were pansies.

Your favorite flower.

He could feel that flowering plant inside him bloom. The thought may have sounded so figurative, but it was real and a bittersweet experience for him.

Who would've thought that loving someone may cost his life if the feelings were not returned?

Surely not Yeonjun.

He was too busy from torturing himself, thinking of the non-existent chance of you returning his affections. Yeonjun was too busy from hoping that someday, you'd finally come to love him and heal the growing illness inside him.

But you never will, for your heart belonged to someone else now, and that wasn't Yeonjun.

He doesn't hold your heart.

That mere fact had proven itself for so many times, but what did he do? He stood still on his ground, even if he already knew that it's going to hurt him even more.

The prickling pain was tolerable, but the idea of losing what makes him feel barely closer to you wasn't. It's why he kept on pushing himself on the edge, just for you.

Yet all of those finally died—like a withered flower deprived of its basic needs—as he saw you mutter a soft 'yes' to Soobin, who threw a surprise to ask you to be his girlfriend in front of everyone else to see.

That moment had killed him, as the flower inside him painfully grew. It was truly ironic of how it lives on from the pain itself gives.

Yeonjun couldn't bear to watch it any longer, and so he quietly walked out from the scene, with his mind telling him countless of thoughts.

But only one from those was finally clear to him now.

· — ✦ — ·

First thing in the morning, you found yourself opening your eyes to a complete and absolute nothing. You were met with the vast darkness above your head, and it covered the entire area. It left you with nothing but a flower field beneath your feet, just to keep yourself accompanied.

The place you woke up to was truly lovely as you began to realize, with different sorts of flowers in various colors that grew all around you.

The flowering plants extended up to the horizon, where a soft glow of light illuminated a strange figure from afar. The area seemed to be surrounded with much more of nature's blooming treasures in shades of purple, bubbling up an odd excitement from within you.

It reminded you of pansies.

This was too good to be true, but you intended to seize the moment while you still can.

Your eyes lingered upon that sight for far too long. A foreign feeling tugged at your chest, as if it was calling for your name.

As if it was pulling and luring you close to it.

And it successfully did.

You were enchanted by the magical place, and it almost had you wishing to stay there forever. Your legs began to bring you towards where your eyes were fixated, wanting to satisfy the curiosity that flickered inside you.

Each step you took mirrored the pounding feeling of your heart. The unknown suspense rattled through your bones, turning your hands cold and sweaty.

Slowly, you began to see it clearly.

And you wished you hadn't.

As you approached the figure, your vision was immediately clouded by tears. You couldn't tell why, but for some strange reason, you felt like your heart was being squeezed by a fist, squishing and crushing the poor flesh until it could beat no longer.

Your breath hitched with the sudden contraction of your chest due to what you saw.

In the distance, there ᎻᎬ sat still. Eyes closed, head hung low and his arms hang loosely by his sides. His white clothing was severely stained by a dripping purple substance that came from a slash on his neck.

You were shaken by the sight.

Was that supposed to be...blood? You couldn't bring yourself to find out.

Your glance then finally caught a look of his face.

Every little detail never missed your gaze.

Yeonjun's eyes were closed as if he was resting peacefully. He showed no signs of movement at all. With his skin and soft lips looking so pale, he looked utterly lifeless under the light you two basked in. Plenty of flowers adorned his head and some petals littered all over his body.

The sight was picture perfect. A beautiful tragedy was brought to light.

Was this a reality? A sad dream?

What was it telling you?

· — ✦ — ·

Hanahaki disease is something that was truly enamoring. Its beauty—for an illness such as itself—was not like any other, seeing that it feeds and grows from the pain of its victim. Unrequited love therefore must be avoided, for you not to have it and suffer from its slow and painful death.

The chances of surviving from it, however, could be possible. The patient must go through surgery, enabling the excision of the flower's roots from the lungs.

The process was terrifying, but if it saves another hopeless being, then it wouldn't matter so much. At least the patient would still be alive and breathing.

"Yeonjun-hyung,"

The disinfected smell of the air burned through the said boy's nostrils. The cold atmosphere nipped at his skin, leveling with the coldness brought by his nervousness.

"You're aware of what the results might be once it's finished, right?"

"Why do you seem so against this now?" Yeonjun teased with a playful smile displayed, "Aren't you the one who kept on telling me this?"

If only he could joke his way out of this pain.

"Hyung, I'm serious. You heard what the doctor said as he went over the process."

Oh he did, he heard it so loud and clear.

"Should I ever survive from the surgery...these feelings for Y/N will be erased—even those of my memories of hers might be, too."

The impulse to cry came at him again. Yeonjun felt so disoriented with the thought of the surgery. The urge to vomit and cough out blood and petals was way stronger though, so he had to maintain his composure, while Beomgyu rubbed his back soothingly.

"I'm happy now that you're doing this for yourself, Hyung. You've been in pain for too long...it's time to let go now."

The siblings shared a hug with each other as they waited for the time of Yeonjun's surgery. The light contact might be suffocating for the blond boy, but it made him feel better and stronger for what he's about to face.

And as for you, while you were there in your own room, still pondering about the strange dream you had for so long...

...little did you know that the boy who suffered from the excruciating pain, had finally given up.

Yeonjun did not make it through the surgery, for the flowers had caused complications amidst the process.

And you...you just had no single clue about it.

[1magine-engine]

1404 (Prologue)

Fandom: Haikyuu!! Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Youtuber Reader Words: 1500+ Posted: 26/11/20

Song(s) Featured: Moon on the Water by The Dying Breed (from Beck MCS)

“It’s actually really exciting.”

Tetsuro nods, knowing Kenma means it, whatever he’s talking about. Probably something about Bouncing Ball corp. and the new game they have in development. Really, Kenma hasn’t stopped talking about it since the project started almost half a year ago and while Tetsuro is interested enough to usually listen to him rave and gush, today’s just not that kind of day.

“-and the new voice actor I have in mind is really good. We save a lot of time and money cause they speak in both languages.”

Yup, they’re probably phenomenal if Kenma is so easy to compliment them. Tetsuro racks his brain trying to remember who he’s talking about.

“I’m actually thinking about having her as a guest on stream soon.”

Uh huh.

“Oh and I’m also going to shave my head and give my hair to that middle school girl who won’t stop messaging.”

Good for them.

“Okay, how many of those have you had today?”

Tetsuro looks down at the cup of coffee he’s forgotten he’s holding. “Uh…” his brows furrow and it’s enough for Kenma to pry the cup out of his hand and set it on the far end of the table.

“And you’re always telling me to get proper sleep.” Kenma gives him a look, sipping on his own drink. He exits Discord, Tetsuro’s sagging back, drooping shoulders and lifeless eyes, more concerning than his followers’ Rule 34 fanart. “Seriously are you okay man? Have you been sleeping? At all?”

Tetsuro shakes his head, the mere mention of sleep enough to slump him over the table completely. As far as he knows, a waiter hadn’t wiped it after the last couple of people who sat down, or before he and Kenma took their place. He finds he doesn’t care. “Stupid neighbors, always either fighting or fucking all night. It’s been going on for a month now.”

“Oh that’s rough.” Kenma winces, handing him back his coffee, knowing lunch break doesn’t last forever and Tetsuro has to return to his office as a zombie. “Tried filing a noise complaint?”

He was about to, one week into the couple’s constant spats, but hearing them scream at the top of their lungs at each other about money troubles and barely keeping themselves afloat stayed his hand. Tetsuro knows how difficult it is to get an apartment in his building, a prime position near the business district at a reasonable price. He also knows his neighbors to an extent, at least what they do for a living as a preschool teacher and a struggling musician. As much as he needs his sleep, he’s not so heartless as to put them out on the streets. “It’s fine,” he promises as he downs the rest of his coffee. “I’ve been living next door to these guys for almost two years now and they’ve always seemed happy before this. They’ll work through it and I then I can get some sleep.”

“If you say so,” Kenma says but he still stares down and shakes his head at the next waitress who tries to approach them with a pot of coffee.

It’s a month and two weeks in that Tetsuro reconsiders that noise complaint or at least considers gathering his neighbors from the same floor and staging an intervention. Mrs. Mamizuka across the hall has expressed her concerns to Kuroo in the elevator one morning, telling him they’ll surely notice how loud and disturbing they’ve become when they realize she hasn’t been giving them as many of her baked goods as she normally does. And Tanaka who’s taking up residence at the end of their hall has advised him to just go out at night, go to the convenience store next to the building and wait till they tire each other out or go partying with friends.

Oh, to be a college student again.

He’s not even in his mid-twenties and he wishes for the energy he used to have, the kind that could drive him through all his classes on just 3 hours of sleep. Maybe then, he could finish his damned paperwork. Maybe then he wouldn’t fall asleep on the bus and miss his stop.

“Been up working late nights Kuroo-san?” the night guard, Sato asks him when he drags his feet into the lobby after midnight.

Kuroo nods, also wishing he had half the middle aged man’s energy, because even at the latest hours of the night, Sato-san greets every tenant and guest with a smile. Kuroo could only force himself to return it. “Something like that.”

“Well you look pretty tuckered out. You should probably put off whatever you’re working on for the night Kuroo-san.” He wags an index finger like a weather man telling a fact about nature on the news. “Sleep is important you know.”

Doesn’t he know it.

When he crosses the threshold of his apartment, he doesn’t bother turning on the lights. He heads straight for his bedroom and musters up the energy to take off his jacket, tie, socks and shoes. The night is silent, save for a light chorus of crickets outside his window. He’s gotten home later than he would have any other time, a crescent moon sitting just past its peak outside his window. And he hopes, oh does he hope, that it means his neighbors have already fought all they can fight for the night. Or maybe the husband hasn’t come home yet and that’s why it hasn’t started. 

He regrets even thinking of it when he settles into bed and hears the distant sound of a door being unlocked and slammed open.

Tetsuro sighs, already rolling over to each for his messenger bag, his earphones sitting somewhere at the bottom. He stops his rummaging when no bedlam disturbs the night. Footsteps prick his ears but they don’t stomp and aren’t followed by booming voices trying to talk over each other. He rolls back over, leaning towards the wall and hearing nothing. Odd. More shuffling and trudging draw his eye up to the crag ceiling, to the apartment above his.

The kind elderly couple who used to live up there had mentioned wanting to move to the country for months. “The air is fresher there, better for old people like us,” the wife chuckled at him once when he’d helped carry her groceries across the lobby to the elevator. Not a week later, Tetsuro was helping the husband and their son move furniture out, just in time to miss the beginning of a hard spot in their neighbor’s relationship. But whoever has taken their place isn’t so fortunate but then again, maybe it’s him that’s out of luck. In the darkness of his apartment he stares up at the ceiling, brows furrowed.

He prays, prays to whatever kami watches over the luck and serenity of apartment buildings that it isn’t another couple that should’ve broken up yesterday. Hell, he’ll even take a new family with a rowdy kid. At least kids are usually out by 10 with their parents careful not to wake them, not banging on the walls or banging each other. No movie he’s watched or game he’s been in has ever left him in such suspense. After some more shuffling and gentle creak of chair legs against a wood floor, there’s silence. 

Tetsuro sits up, holding his breath.

“Full moon sways, 

gently in the night of one fine day.”

A car drives by, the doppler effect of it rushing down the street drowning out the first few notes of an acoustic guitar. Deft fingers play with practiced ease but do so with languid movement, catching on the strings more than plucking them. The voice, high and crooning, is the same, beautiful but almost lazy. Tired, he realizes, is a better word; she sounds as tired as he remembers he feels, once all the irritation at his neighbors and frustration with missing his stop ebbs away. Laying back down, he listens.

"On my way,  looking for a moment with my dear. 

Full moon waves, slowly on the surface of the lake. 

You are there, smiling in my arms 

for all those years."

Even as the song switches to strumming with the slightest bit of force, Tetsuro finds himself sinking deeper into his pillow, eyes growing heavy.

"What a fool, I don’t know ‘bout tomorrow, 

or what it’s like to be, Ah,"

He’s never heard the song in his life, neither does he remember enough of his English classes from high school to understand everything, but he doesn’t need to.

"I was sure, I couldn’t let myself go, 

even though I feel, the end."

Her voice and her guitar are muffled by the layers of wood and concrete between them. His window is open to let the cool night air and silver light of the moon in and he can tell hers is as well but she drowns out the chirping of crickets, the cars that drive by and even Tetsuro’s own thoughts as little by little, then all at once, he falls asleep.

"Full moon sways, gently in the night one fine day 

You were there, smiling in my arms,

 for all these years."

When he opens his eyes, it’s slow. Sleep inertia from a deep sleep is always worse but he finds his eyes widening as it goes away in minutes and he feel more rested than he has in years.

He blinks, staring up at the ceiling.

“Huh.”

[tinyshe]

Story at-a-glance

There are 10 steps that every tyrannical government has followed. We are now at step 10. Once the 10th step locks into place, there will be no going back

The 10 steps toward tyranny start with the invocation of a terrifying internal and/or external threat. From 2001 onward, that threat was terrorism, which was used as the justification for stripping us of our liberties

With the declaration of COVID-19 as a global pandemic, we entered step 10, where emergency powers and laws are used to strip remaining freedoms from the people, censorship is enacted and certain kinds of speech is criminalized

We must get involved and fight to enact state legislation that protects against continued erosion of freedom and reestablishes rights and liberties

The Daily Clout platform was created for this purpose. It allows citizens to lobby already drafted, turnkey bills to their legislators

This is the article in full:

Naomi Wolf, a former adviser to  the Clinton administration, is a prolific author and Yale University graduate.  She also received a prestigious Rhodes Scholarship that allowed her to complete  her Ph.D. in English and literature at Oxford University in 2015. Eight years  before that, she wrote a book called “The End  of America,” which is the topic of this interview. “The End of America” was published  in 2007. At the end of this article, you will find a playlist of three videos  in which she reads select chapters of the book. You can also download  the first and last chapters for free on the publisher’s website,  chelseagreen.com.1A Prescient Warning Already in 2007, Wolf warned us of  where we were headed. In her book, she points out that would-be tyrants are  found on both sides of the political spectrum. We must not get locked into  generalizations about political affiliations, because they simply do not give  us a truthful picture of who the enemy is. While Wolf and I could be said to  be on opposite sides of the political spectrum, Wolf being a long-time  progressive while many would view me as a conservative, our views are in  perfect alignment when it comes to the issues of protecting American freedom  and liberty.We are [now] at Step 10. I've been trying to warn people,  tirelessly, as much as I can, that we are at Step 10 and that once Step 10  locks in, there is no going back. ~ Naomi WolfIn “The End of America,” Wolf lays  out the 10 steps toward tyranny. These steps have been followed by virtually  all would-be tyrants, be they on the political left or right. They were  followed in Italy in the '20s, Germany in '30s, East Germany in the '50s, Chile  in the '70s and China in the '80s. “They all took the same 10 steps, and they always work,” Wolf says. “I warned people  that when you start to see these 10 steps, you have to take action, because  there is no way to recover once things go too far without a bloody revolution  or a civil war. We are [now] at Step 10. People have said, since I wrote that book   in 2007, ‘Tell us when we're at Step 10.’ I've always said, ‘Things are bad,  they're getting worse, but there's still hope.’ We're literally at Step 10 now.  I've been trying to warn people, tirelessly, as much as I can, that we are at Step  10 and that once Step 10 locks in, there is no going back.”We’re in the Final Step of  the Implementation of Tyranny.The 10 steps toward tyranny start  with the invocation of a terrifying internal and/or external threat. It may be  a real threat or an imagined one, but in all cases, it’s a hyped-up threat.  From 2001 onward, that threat was terrorism, which was used as the  justification for stripping us of our liberties. Ultimately, that wasn’t effective   enough.“There was still freedom in the world. People were not saying, ‘ISIS  exists; therefore, I'm going to give up my First Amendment liberties, my Fourth  Amendment liberties, my Second Amendment liberties and so on.’ Sadly, this  medical crisis — which is now not a pandemic in many states and countries, it's  an endemic; it doesn't meet the formal definition of a pandemic — was the  perfect excuse for leaders to usher in Step 10,” Wolf says. The last and final step in the  implementation of tyranny, Step 10, involves the creation of a surveillance  state where citizens are spied upon, and critique of the government is  reclassified as dissent and subversive activity. Step 10 The surveillance state is now  being rolled out in the form of vaccine passports, while certain kinds of  speech are said to be dangerous and freedom of speech is being criminalized. Needless  to say, the mainstream press is an important part of this scheme. “The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation have essentially bought up  the western press and coerce them, bribe them, into following the party line,  brought up by the CDC and so on,” Wolf says.“Toward the end of the steps, which is Step 10, is emergency law,  [which is a] subversion of the rule of law, also called martial law. We're  here. I'm [in] New York State. We're under emergency law. Every 30 days, I get  an email saying that tyrannical Governor Cuomo has extended emergency powers,  even though in Columbia County where I live, there are only eight deaths a  month with COVID, average age 85, which is older than the average American life  span. It's not a pandemic where I live, but I'm living under emergency   law, which means the legislature has no power. The governor can do whatever he  wants. It’s the same in Massachusetts, same in California — 49 states, all  states except Alaska, are technically under emergency law. This is terrifying. You get what you're seeing, which is governors   deciding, or the federal government deciding, that you can't assemble, you  can't worship, you have no medical choice, the coercion of vaccine passports,  your child can't go to school, your young adult can't get a college education  if they don't agree to an experimental vaccination. You get suspension of the right to property. You can't run your   business — 110,000 restaurants have closed. You get a suspension of freedoms of  speech. People are being deplatformed left and right and there are movements in  Congress to criminalize what had been First Amendment protected speech. You get the invocation of martial powers and there's no end to it.   Literally, with Massachusetts emergency law, I have no rights. I have no  ability to lobby the governor. With New York’s emergency law, I have no  representative with the power to end emergency measures. The governor has to  end emergency measures, [and] he's the one who benefits from them. It's  catastrophic. We're seeing a complete takeover of American rights, freedoms and   bodies by Big Tech, which is up double digits to triple-digit billions since  the pandemic began. China has moved in to … establish its role as the global  superpower under the guise of this pandemic, buying up community groups,  elected officials and the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, which are flooding  K through 12 education … community groups [and] universities with money to  engage in COVID education — which means a strict party line [narrative] that is  aimed at destroying what's human about us and what's free. That's it in a  nutshell. It's unbelievably terrifying.”What the COVID-19 Passports  Are Really AboutWolf was recently interviewed by Fox News’ Steve Hilton  (above), in which she warned that mandatory COVID-19 passports will spell  the “end of human  liberty in the West”:2,3 In essence, they’re a  precursor to the social credit system that has already been implemented in  China. The vaccine passes have already been  rolled out in New York, where Wolf lives. Surveillance is nothing new, of  course. We’ve been digitally surveilled for years, through social media  platforms, Google and all manner of “smart” technology. Since the early 2000s, Google and  Facebook in particular have been data mining online users. These data, then,  have been applied to deep learning computers, giving them unprecedented ability  to predict the type of messaging triggers that will create the maximum amount  of fear — and thus compliance. There’s also every reason to  assume that this information has also been shared with people like Bill Gates,  who largely controls the World Health Organization. If it wasn’t for the WHO,  we would not be in this situation, because it was the central organization with  the authority to declare a global pandemic, and keep it in place long past its   natural expiration date. They actually changed the  definition of “pandemic,” removing the requirement of mass casualties, and if  it wasn’t for that, COVID-19 simply would not qualify as a pandemic. The Pandemic Is Hypothetical  at BestWolf points out that COVID-19  dashboards, such as Johns Hopkins’ COVID-19 tracking project that mainstream  media keep citing, cannot tell us anything about who’s actually getting  infected, or who’s dying. We don’t even know if they are showing real or made  up data.Wolf, being the CEO of a tech  company, builds digital dashboards based on government data, so she knows what  she’s talking about. You have to have the raw datasets. Since none of the  dashboards provide the raw data, nothing can be verified. “Basically, they can  dial up cases, which are positive PCR tests, or dial them down,” she says. So,  the entire pandemic narrative is unverified.We do know, however, that the CDC  has shifted influenza and pneumonia deaths to COVID-19 deaths, and tens of  thousands of Americans die from these conditions every year. When lawmakers in  Minnesota audited death records, for example, they found a 40% over-attribution   of deaths to COVID-19. Then there’s the PCR test scandal.  Not only have laboratories everywhere been using excessively high amplification  cycles resulting in staggeringly high false positive rates, but they also do  not account for duplicate tests. If you get a positive test, and test once a  week until you test negative, each positive test result you obtain is counted  as a separate “case.”“We literally can't know if there's been a pandemic, there's so  much faulty attribution, inflation of numbers, and so on,” Wolf says. “Those numbers, I  can't stress enough, have never been audited ... We have to do a freedom of information request in Britain to take  a look at the raw data sets that are being fed into the Office for National  Statistics, COVID dashboard. We looked at where the data were flowing from for  the Johns Hopkins dashboard, which again, was used by every major university,  every major news outlet. One of the data providers was a hedge fund! … I know something else about APIs. It is virtually impossible to,  in real time, get hundreds of thousands of reports from hundreds of thousands  of doctors, hospitals, CVS and Rite Aid, feeding into a live digital dashboard.  I keep asking the developers to show me, ‘How did you do this? It's virtually  impossible.’ There's no answer, there's crickets. Literally, we don't know if the dashboards are just dialing up and   dialing down infection rates. Everyone's taking for granted that these must be  real numbers, but there's no evidence that they are real numbers. I'm willing  to stand corrected if there's a FOIA and we see the raw data sets. But right  now, it is a hypothetical pandemic.”Collusion by Tech CompaniesTech companies have also engaged  in what Wolf likens to criminal collusion. She explains:“In March of last year, for the COVID-19 response project, Zoom, NASDAQ, Nintendo, Microsoft, Amazon — all the people who benefited from the lockdown  — coordinated so that wherever you go on the internet, across platform to  platform, you see these alerts about COVID-19, warnings about COVID,  instructions about COVID, and of course, censorship … if you run afoul of the  narrative about COVID. I run a tech company. The question, when you run a tech company, is how do you get people to not do things in the real world, and do things on your  platform? That's the business model. If people are gathering in churches, gathering in real school   rooms, if they're going for walks together, go on picnics, having dinner  parties, going to clubs, that's an opportunity lost to Microsoft and Google and  so on. But if they can drive you indoors, terrify you from being around other  people, or make it unlawful to be around other people through these emergency  powers that restrict assembly [then they can profit] … Digital learning curriculum were turnkey, ready to go. Suddenly,  it was like, ‘Oh, kids have to be at home and do distance learning.’ That's a  $300 million industry for just one company that creates digital curriculums.  They're not going to let go of that. I think we are in a small loop of six tech companies [and] the  Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation, having bought legislators in China, who's  up 32% while the economies of the West have crashed, and that's the fight that  we have to fight.”The Legalization of Tyranny. Few people realize that dictators  such as Mussolini and Hitler came to power in legal working democracies. They  became subverted and rules of law were rewritten in such a way as to allow  these leaders to legally take over. That's one of the primary dangers we now face  in the U.S., because at the end of step 10, the leader obtains the legal   authority to become a tyrant.“This is especially true of the National Socialists,” Wolf says. “They kept  passing a set of laws called the Enabling Acts that are very much like the laws  that are being passed now. They criminalized certain speech, created a  surveillance apparatus for citizens … and they did this lawfully. They were  elected, and they passed restrictive law after restrictive law. Then, once democracy was fragile enough, it really only took six   months for thugs to beat up opposition leaders, union leaders, the outspoken  and clergy. After that, everyone was too scared to speak. We're seeing the same  thing happen now, but faster. It's very scary that China has created a white paper — the World   Economic Forum has it on its website — that maps how biofascism, as I call it —  vaccinations, the managing of people's bodies, biometrics and health — is being  launched as a way to control civic engagement, governance, private life,  assembly and every other aspect of human life, to bring about super-fast  totalitarianism. That's why focusing on legislation is something I've been doing   with my company DailyClout, very seriously, because if we don't pass laws  immediately to make unlawful some of the things we're seeing, there will be no  more hope for us.”Using the Legal System to  Save the Law. One strategy of totalitarianism  that must be fought through legislation is the requirement of vaccine  passports. “Once these are launched … people like you and I, Dr. Mercola,  will be switched off of society. ‘Oops, my vaccine passport is positive. I   guess I can't go food shopping for my family.’ ‘I said something critical of  biofascism on Dr. Mercola's show, so now my child can't get into school.’ Just  as in Israel, people who are critics are being surveilled [and] marginalized  from society. It has turned into a two-tier society. If you choose not to get   vaccinated, then you're really in a marginalized minority in an apartheid  state. The more we know about these vaccines, the scarier it is to have  coercion that is social. It's also illegal. In America, we have the Americans  with Disabilities Act. It means it's illegal to even ask me anything about my  medical status. You can't ask me if I'm pregnant. You can't ask me if I'm  disabled. You can't ask me if I have diabetes or HIV. You cannot ask me   anything. By definition, these intrusive measures are unlawful. We have to use  the law to save the law, basically. In Michigan, there's an edict from the  governor that 2- to 4-year-old children have to be masked. This is child abuse.  Science doesn't support it. Unlawful, tyrannical laws are being passed across the country  under the guise of emergency measures, and stupid people going along with it,  like in Congress, I'm embarrassed to say, because I voted for Biden. We have to  fight before we are living in fascist regime where every move is tracked and  we're marginalized from society.”The Courts Are Our Last Hope,  And They’re Now Under AttackOne area in which “The End of  America” excels is helping you understand is that the United States was founded  by people who had repressive societies. Their goal was to prevent such a  repressive society from emerging again. The founders had to personally reckon  with criminalized speech, arbitrary arrest, state sanctioned torture and even  murder.So, at great personal sacrifice,  they signed the Constitution. Had they lost the Revolutionary War, they would  all have been executed, so the stakes could not have been higher. As a result,  our founding fathers constructed a carefully balanced system to make sure no  tyrant could ever come to power. We’re now facing a scenario that  could obliterate that delicate balance, namely the Biden administration’s call  to “pack the court,” i.e., add, in this case four, additional Justices to the  Supreme Court. We’re now facing a shift in our  legal structure that will allow for the legalization of tyrannical reign and  “legally” override the carefully constructed governmental balance between the  legislative, executive and judicial branched that has previously served to  prevent tyranny in the U.S.This three-tier branch, constructed to safeguard  our freedoms, is under direct attack, and this is NOT a partisan issue. Not by  a longshot, and everyone needs to wake up to this fact. It’s an issue of  freedom versus tyranny.“Absolutely,” Wolf says. “Sadly, this is clear. That's why I'm saying progressives have to  wake up … I worry very much about the role of China in this, because I think  we've seen that some people connected to the Democratic Party have close ties  with members of the Chinese Communist Party. That is just established fact. I'm not saying that the tyrants are on the left. In Britain, it's   Tories cracking down on liberty, holding the country under house arrest. In  Australia it's conservatives, in Canada it's Trudeau, a liberal. This isn't  partisan. But in America, we do have to face the fact that this administration  is drunk on power and has some bad actors aligned with it, including Silicon  Valley. They are crushing conservative voices, kicking them off of public   platforms in addition to voices critical of the COVID narrative. They're also  moving at warp speed to use their own phrasing about something else to lock in  power in a way that is against everything our founders set in place — the most  beautiful, delicate system of checks and balances any human beings have ever  created; an ideal of people all over the world who want freedom and balanced  accountable government. Yeah, packing the Supreme Court is a horrific tampering with some   of the last checks and balances that we have … I can't believe I keep saying  thank God for the conservatives on the bench. But these days, I have to say it,  and I'm ashamed. But thank God, because they were the ones who in California  said ‘No, you cannot keep people from assembling to worship. That is a  violation of the Constitution.’ They're our last hope. The courts are our last hope. It is   catastrophic, and I see other scary movements against accountable democracy  that are being put forward by this administration. Among them, President Biden is not saying to the blue states: ‘You   have to give up your emergency powers. You have to open up. You can't control  people in their homes, you can't force people to have vaccinations and you  can't keep people from assembling and worshipping.’ These are all violations of their constitutional liberties. He's   not saying that. That's a complete failure of leadership, if not worse. My  people have to rise up and face it. Conservatives have to face cleaning up  their own houses … What's at stake is everything, and we all have to unite  across party lines and save our Constitution and make these people accountable,  whatever their party [affiliation].”Urgent Call to Action The good news is, the would-be tyrants have not won yet. That said, we have no  time to spare. We have no time to remain idle, hoping it will all just go back  to normal on its own. The answer is peaceful mass civil disobedience.“There's hope in mass peaceful civil disobedience … when things  are really dire,” Wolf says. “My favorite story is about the singing revolution of Latvia,   Lithuania and Estonia, in which they were under the grip of the Soviet Union, a  massive tyrannical monolith. They all decided to just peacefully gather on a  highway that extended the length of their three countries and sing. They kept peacefully disrupting business as usual in their cities,   making it impossible for work to continue, for traffic to go on. They sat down,  they linked arms and they sang. Over time, they just wore down the Soviet Union.  That's a beautiful model. Same thing with Dr. Martin Luther King. His was a  peaceful revolution of civil disobedience.”This strategy is time-consuming,  however, so be prepared to stand your ground for as long as it takes. It can  take months, years even, when you have nothing else in your arsenal. Peaceful disobedience  is the primary strategy in armed countries as well. As mentioned, we must also  rally behind legislation that prevents the alteration of laws that safeguard  our freedoms.Join the Five Freedoms  Campaign!To that end, Wolf has started the Five Freedoms Campaign, which you can find on her Daily Clout website. The campaign focuses on creating legislation to preserve key  freedoms and prevent emergency laws from infringing on our freedom to assembly,   worship, protest and engage in business. Legislation is also being crafted to  open schools, remove mask mandates and eliminate requirements for vaccine  passports.“We've had overwhelmingly high levels of support,” Wolf says. “I hope your  followers will also join us. We hired a really distinguished lawyer who is drafting  model legislation. She has finished the new vaccine passport bill and we've  gotten state legislators in Maine, New Hampshire and Michigan to sponsor to  pass that legislation. I'm sending out the request for 47 other state legislatures to   adopt this model legislation. Contact me, I'll come out, I'll speak to your  legislature. We'll do a rally, we'll do a press conference, as we're doing in  Maine on April 27. We've got to pass these bills. Then she's going to work on an omnibus bill to make all five   freedoms inviolable so that no one can pass mask mandates as they did in  Michigan today. No one can force vaccine passports as they're doing in New York,  so that we can get our freedoms back.”Wolf and her team are making this  interactive process as easy as possible by posting good model bills on  dailyclout.io, and proactively drafting much-needed bills. Many state  legislators are not lawyers, and they don't have lawyers at their beck and  call. Citizens can now send these model bills to their legislators, knowing  that they’ve undergone legal review and are ready to be passed. You can also go  even further than that:“You can tell us the bill you want. We can upload a campaign for that bill. We can hire our lawyer to draft a model bill and then you can pass  it. What we've been doing is gathering names and zip codes, so that we can add  real voters to this piece of model legislation in real states and send it to  real state legislators and say, ‘Look, the supporters are all there. All you  have to do is pass this.’ It's a fantastic intervention in the political process, restoring   real democracy. It's why we founded Daily Clout, but it's beautiful to see  hundreds and hundreds of people from all walks of life rushing to give us  support and resources, to become members and give us donations, which we  appreciate, so that we can keep our lawyer busy creating these draft bills.  It's not just for this issue. Once we get our rights and freedoms back,  whatever [citizens] want, we can draft a bill for you, and you can [call on  your legislators to] pass it.”Limiting Emergency PowersAnother facet  that needs to be addressed is governors’ emergency powers. Some states have  been locked down under emergency power for more than a year, which is insane,  considering we’re not in an emergency and haven’t been for many months. These  emergency powers need to be limited in some way, as they are at the heart of  all this unlawful behavior. As explained by Wolf: “Emergency law basically suspends  the Constitution of the United States. As I've said elsewhere, the Constitution  doesn't say all this can be suspended if there's disease. We've been through  typhus, cholera, smallpox, HIV, Spanish flu, polio, tuberculosis — disease   after disease, without ever having emergency law extended without review month  after month. We've had world wars fought  without emergency laws. We were attacked on our soil without emergency law  being declared in New York state after 9/11. There's no justification for it. It's  against everything we believe in. It's unconstitutional.” So, one of the  five freedoms Wolf’s campaign focuses on is the restriction of emergency laws.  New Hampshire has become the first state to pass a bill that accomplishes this.  It reforms emergency law such that the Governor’s emergency powers cannot be  indefinitely extended without review by the legislature. They also passed a  bill that guarantees freedom of worship, and another bill that ensures  emergency law cannot be invoked indefinitely in any future crisis.4“We've now passed along our model ‘No vaccine passport’ bill to   the New Hampshire legislators,” Wolf says. “If they can do it in New Hampshire,  with our help, with your help, they can do it across the country. But we need  to get that model legislation out to every legislature and mobilize that  grassroots movement to pass the end of emergency law. I mean, look what's happening in New York State. It's insane. Fourteen  state legislators are trying to get Governor Cuomo to end emergency law. But as  our laws are written, Governor Cuomo has to be the one to end his own emergency  law. There're a huge amount of lobbying that has to happen for these   legislators to understand that there are eyes on them, that they're accountable.  I'm going to be reporting and … hopefully millions of people will be following  and helping to pass these laws to get back our rights.”Daily Clout Empowers Citizens  to Lobby for Freedom. To be clear, the Daily Clout is  not a lobbying group. YOU are the ones lobbying your legislators. Daily Clout  simply provides the needed assistance so that you can do that easily and  effectively. “It's such a beautiful effort, because you'd have to come out and  say, ‘The people of New Hampshire have no right to pass their own legislation’  in order to oppose an effort like this,” Wolf says. “We're not a special interest. It's just the  people. It's the people of New Hampshire, people of Maine, passing their own  legislation. I do hear, consistently, that Democrats won't help, that in many   states with their democratic majorities, it's going to be difficult if   Democrats don't reach across the aisle and add their names. I'm sending out the  call to Democrats to support this legislation. I'm going to warn everyone, speaking as a former political   consultant, that the party that embraces the restoration of freedom is going to  be the party that wins in 2022 and 2024. There's no question about that. This  is going to be a winning issue. People know something is terribly wrong, but they don't know what   to do. This is a completely unprecedented assault on liberty. With my many  years in national politics, I know what to do. This is why we developed Daily  Clout. If you show up with a turnkey piece of legislation and some turnkey  supporters, that's a very quick fix for a really catastrophic crisis that has a  legislative solution. As long as there's still legislatures, we can pass good  legislation at the state level. At the federal level, it's going to be harder,   because there isn't any balance right now. I'm very inspired there's so many people serving at the state   legislature level who are really decent citizens, who are not partisan hacks. People  who really ran to help their neighbors and help their communities and who are  not wholly owned by China, Big Tech or whatever, and who want to do the right  thing. I could be wrong, but in two weeks [since we launched the Daily   Clout site] we've already been invited to address state legislators and draft  legislation for three, and that's without any marketing budget or anything but  platforms like this, where I say it's available. We started Daily Clout because citizens didn't have a platform to   be effective at lobbying for their own issues. This is a turnkey platform that  does that for them. I designed it that way. I designed it, as a former  political consultant, knowing that the way things are set up, ordinary citizens  don't have a seat at the table. There is no easy way to engage in civic action.  

This makes it easy, makes it digital and people are using it.”How to Use the Daily Clout Site.So, how do you get involved?  First, go to  dailyclout.io and sign up to become a paying member or free subscriber. You will then receive an email explaining how to use the Five  Freedoms Campaign.

Presently, there is a model “no vaccination passports” bill   that you can send to your state legislator.There’s also a feature called  BillCam, where you can see who your state legislator is by entering your zip  code. Daily Clout will also email you links and explain how to find your state  legislator. If you provide your name and zip code, which will remain  confidential, your state legislator’s contact information will be included in  the email.“We're creating a widget right now to attach your name and zip   code to the model bills so it goes right to your state legislator, showing that  the bill already has support,” Wolf explains. “But in the meantime, you can look up any bill on BillCam. Those are  bills that have already been introduced or passed. There are ‘No vaccine passport’ bills, for instance. We're   showcasing them on BillCam. It's already set up, so you can just tweet it to  the sponsor, tweet it to representative. You can Facebook it to your community.  It already goes through social media and you can show support by ‘voting on it’  in the widget on BillCam as you share legislation with your community.”Once you’re a subscriber or  member, you’ll get regular updates about happenings around the U.S. and  community events. They’re also installing a widget that will allow you to meet  with like-minded people in your state who want this legislation passed. Lastly,  you can write to Daily Clout and ask them to draft a bill. A lawyer will then  be assigned to draft it for you.“Right now, we're focused on the Five Freedoms Campaign, but there  is that functionality. You can write a blog and explain the bill that you want.  You can send us a video and explain what your issue is, and all of this goes to  shining a light on the legislators. They're not used to having a light shone on  them. That really does drive outcomes. Those are the steps that you can take,” Wolf says. We’ve already seen how effective  this strategy can be, with New Hampshire passing three bills to protect  citizens’ freedoms. “I never want to take credit away from legislators working hard to  pass bills, but I know that we helped,” Wolf says. “I know that our lawyer has been in close  touch with some of those state legislators in New Hampshire and provided  language that we pay for, so that those legislators would have a turnkey bill  to act on.”Hundreds of people also wrote to  New Hampshire’s Governor Christopher Sununu, urging him to lift the mask  mandate, which he recently did. Knowing that the Daily Clout would report on  the outcome of that campaign, he not only felt the political pressure, but he  also knew he had support from his constituents. So, please, use this unprecedented  opportunity to get involved, in any capacity that you can. Your freedom, and that of future generations, hinge on  our getting involved and fighting for it. Last but not least, to understand  where we are and how we got here, I strongly recommend reading “The End  of America.” In the video below, Wolf reads select  chapters from the book. You can also download  the first and last chapters for free on the publisher’s website,  chelseagreen.com.5 

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - ONE

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 1.727

Warnings: Cursing. Blood. Bruising. Killing. Murder. Narcissism. Selfishness. Aftercare.

Author’s note: You can all thank @littlefreya for inspiring me to write this. No love interest for now. Let’s see how this goes. This might be my very short-lived introduction to writing in the suspense/thriller genre.

Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Tag: @littlefreya @katerka88 

MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated. Seriously, please tell me all the good and bad stuff, else I won’t be able to develop into a better writer, if I don’t know what I’m doing right and wrong. I swear I don’t bite.

[TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE] [TEN]

He barely moved his head in time before the hook would have smacked him right in the face. He was still falling. The air whizzed around him. He could feel the ground coming closer. He needed to do something fast before he was a splat of human remains. He turned around, so he could see where he was headed - directly into a river, perfect. The icy water enveloped him. He felt the bottom beneath his feet and used it to pummel up to the surface. He heaved in the air. The right side of his face was burning and stinging, the cold river was helping soothe the irritated skin.

The river was picking up speed as he floated down the stream. He needed to swim towards the shore. A fallen tree came towards him. Not being able to avoid it, he dove down, when he came back up he didn’t notice another tree, which hit him on the back of his head, making him woozy, almost to the point of blacking out. Then he was falling again. The impact with the surface made him lose consciousness. The last thing he remembered was a pair of soft hands stroking his left cheek, telling him something in a language he didn’t understand.

He awoke to people talking all around him. Something was plastered to his burnt side; it was smelling terrible. He tried opening his eyes, but they were so heavy, so he went back to sleep. Hoping the people around him weren’t there to kill him.

A few hours later he could open his eyes without it hurting. The room was dark. There were only a few candles lit, not enough for him to see the entire room, but he could see the outline of a person, sitting in a chair next to the door. The person stirred awake when hearing the rustling of sheets from him. A woman came up to his side, his rescuer, as he remembered the soft hand from the riverbank.

She tried saying something, but he shook his head, not understanding a word she was saying. Her long black hair swung as she tried explaining with her hands, arms and body, how she had found him almost drowned, then having brought him to her village and nursed him back to health. He had been out for three days and nights.

He tried sitting up. His ribcage hurt like hell, he had definitely broken a few ribs from the impact with the water, falling down a 30-metre waterfall did that to your body. Breathing was difficult, but he had to get out of there. The woman, petite as she was, was strong enough to push him down flat on the bed. He wasn’t fighting back much due to the pain.

“You, sleep.” She said in broken English, which made him smile. He waited until he could hear her soft snores from the chair, before getting up again. He was naked beneath the blanket. Looking around he found his blood-stained clothes. He groaned, throwing them away. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a neatly stacked set of male clothing on top of a dresser. The shirt hung loosely on him, the trousers fit but were a bit tight on the thigh and crotch area. He just needed to control himself, or he would split them. A pair of black shoes sat beneath the dresser. He watched the woman sleeping soundly before he moved her towards the bed and tucked her in, as a thank you for taking care of him. He wasn’t as cold-hearted as everyone thought he was, or maybe he was, who knew. Sometimes he surprised himself by caring about other people. He was usually a selfish and narcissistic bastard.

The wooden door creaked at the hinges, but the woman was still fast asleep. He walked into the living and kitchen space of the house, over to a window overlooking the rest of the village. A few men were walking around talking loudly. He moved towards the bathroom, where he took a good look at himself. He washed off the muddy and awfully stinking stuff from his face. He was surprised to see that the burned flesh was healing nicely without scarring. His moustache was at least intact, the hair on his cheeks and jawline were growing, so it would soon become a beard if he didn’t get it trimmed. He lifted the shirt and winced at the movement, but he had to see the damage that had been done to his body. He was black and blue, even some shades of purple all over his chest, back and sides. He groaned as he touched the sore spots, moving his torso around to feel if he’d broken any bones. Not yet at least.  He listed quietly out the front door, keeping in the shadows as he moved towards a horse that was tied to a tree.

“Don’t make a sound or you’ll be dinner,” he whispered to the stallion, who looked bored at him. He unknotted the reins and pulled the black horse with him to the edge of the village before he mounted on its massive back. The night was dark, but he had learned how to navigate through the stars, thanks to his astronomy-loving adoptive mother.

He didn’t know how long he rode, the sun slowly creeping its rays in the desert. A few more hours and he would be trapped in a sauna with no food or water. He needed a town fast.

An hour later he spotted some buildings. Thanking his lucky stars, he rode into the market that was slowly coming to life. A few looked nervously at him, while some gave him lusty looks. They weren’t used to foreigners there. He tied the horse to a post and walked towards the only young man at the market.

“You speak English?” He asked.

“Only a little, sir,” the young man answered.

“Good enough. How much is the horse worth to you?”

The young man called an older man with a hunched bag to him. They talked and examined the black stallion.

“It is worth too much,” the young man stated.

“You can have it for food, water, a car and some gas.”

“Are you sure, mister? That horse is a racing horse, you could buy many many houses in the big city.”

“I need food and water for at least one week. What kind of cars do you have here?”

The young man sighed and called a few women to gather all the necessities that he demanded. He was provided with a jeep, which had seen better days, but he was assured it was the best car there was in the village. Four women came bearing baskets on top of their heads filled with food and drinks. He definitely wouldn’t starve.

“Which way to Pakistan?” He asked. The young man pointed north-west. Then he was gone without looking back at the confused looks from the villagers. He grabbed an orange and peeled it while controlling the wheel with his knees. He almost groaned as the sweet juices filled his mouth.

He drove for two days straight, not bothering to stop for sleep. He was trained to stay awake for more than four days before fatigue would hit him. He preserved his energy by not thinking, just letting his mind go blank and concentrate on the sandy road ahead of him. He crossed the border to Pakistan by breaking the necks of the border control there. They didn’t know what hit them before they all laid dead on the sand. He had gathered their ammunition and moved his supplies into their newer military jeep. He set the old jeep on fire so as to leave no trace behind. Then he was on his way to Iran, where he did the same to the border control there - he shot them all, took their supplies and continued his journey. Leaving everything burning to the ground.

He had to cross Iraq to get into Jordan, and from there to Israel, where he had an acquaintance that could help him get into Europe, so he could hide in plain sight, planning his next move. Everyone must be thinking that he had died while fighting Ethan Hunt. He smiled to himself, hoping to meet that little bastard again and wringing his neck, or maybe torture him for a few days. He loved playing with his victims to get the information he needed out of them. He loved the cat and mouse game, but the torture game was his favourite.

Another town came into view. It was midday, the market would be bustling with people, no one would notice him if he was stealthy enough. He was towering over the men and women there, but no one gave him a second glance, having gotten used to having American military walking around them all the time. He followed some soldiers to their base, needing to steal more ammo, having used everything, when he crossed the border to Iraq. He might have gone a bit overboard with the shooting, but there were more people there than at the other border control stations, he had no choice. He had never felt so alive to be shooting mercilessly, without having to care about the clean-up, because nobody would suspect him, not until he showed the world that he was back with a vengeance. Until then, he would do whatever the fuck he wanted.

He snuck inside a building behind a few soldiers. They went to another room to clean their rifles. He listed closer, staying near the wall and in the shadows. He was about to pounce on the two unsuspecting soldiers when a large hand landed on his right shoulder. He let out an irritated groan.

“Hands where I can see them,” a deep gruff voice boomed behind him. He slowly raised his arms, almost wincing from his broken ribs. “Turn around, slowly.”

He moved 180 degrees, looking down. The soldier before him wore heavy army boots, camouflage cargo-trousers, a Black Sabbath t-shirt in black, then his beard came into view and the rest of his face. His eyes widened as he was looking into a mirror image of himself.

“Who the fuck are you?” The bearded soldier threatened, before tackling him to the ground.

[boasamishipper]

jewish iceman kazansky headcanons

but you don’t look like a jew! is the statement that follows iceman kazansky for most of his life. the goyim who say it always look some mixture of surprised, uneasy, and mildly curious, like he’s some kind of unknown specimen at the zoo. he’s never treated the same after they find out. the nicer ones walk on eggshells around him and glance at him when they think he can’t see; probably searching for some semblance of jewish features in him (or checking him for horns). the other ones don’t talk to him or fully trust him again. he can’t really say he gives a damn.

(but you don’t look like a jew!, coming from other jews, is a benediction, a blessing, not surprise. his grandmother used to get tears in his eyes when she said it. when they come for us, she said, god be willing, they might ignore you.)

ice’s paternal grandparents boris and rachel immigrated to the united states during the start of the soviet era, from a russian town razed by pogroms (and no longer exists on a map). boris got sick at ellis island and never fully recovered; rachel worked long hours sewing dresses at a garment factory to support her husband and her three children. they attended synagogue every week and she saved for weeks to bake challah on shabbat, just like her mother did before her.

ice remembers listening to his father’s stories about growing up in the tenements. how he used to get so angry whenever he’d hear charles coughlin preaching on the radio, or the right wing mocking fdr’s ‘jew deal,’ but rachel kazansky would always stay calm. why are we here, then? he would demand of his mother after she told him to calm down. why are we here if they don’t want us here? if they don’t trust us? rachel kazansky set down her spoon and stared him down. here is just talk, lyubimyy moy, she would say quietly. america is better than where we left by far.

ice’s sister is born nine years after the holocaust, and ice is born five years after that. ashkenazi jews name their babies after those who have passed, and with so many people dead (relatives, friends, siblings, from gas chambers and death marches and mass graves), there are too many names to choose from. ice’s mother, who ice’s grandmother still calls that shiksa in private, mostly affectionately, chooses their names instead: taylor michelle kazansky for her great-grandmothers, and thomas james kazansky for her great-grandfathers, respectively. rachel kazansky calls it a blessing in disguise, especially when ice and taylor grow up and take after their mother. look at them, she used to say. relieved, sad, and proud. no one will be able to tell.

the one and only time ice gets in trouble in school is when he snaps at mark wilson for making fun of sam friedman. what’d you expect? mark had sneered. jewboy needs to learn his place. (as mark wilson later learned, it was hard to sneer around a broken nose. and a black eye.) ice is set to be suspended until commander bill kazansky of the united states navy walks through the doors and asks (ice cold, quiet, calm) the principal to explain why his son was in trouble for standing up for someone. ice’s suspension gets pushed back to an after-school detention, and ice’s dad takes ice out for ice cream.

in hebrew school, the rabbis teach them about heroes, about good and evil, how to survive in a world that refused to have you. “the wise man is the one who foresees the consequences,” rabbi schapiro tells his class, quoting the talmud, and ice takes the quiet intelligence of the words to heart.

their family’s reform and pretty secular, all things considered: they exchange gifts on hanukkah, only attend synagogue on the high holidays, don’t actively keep kosher, don’t get bar/bat-mitzvahed, and so on and so forth. ice’s relationship with god and religion is complicated; taylor has no relationship with god and religion at all. his grandmother doesn’t mind as long as he promises to remember who he is and always ask questions. 

bill kazansky never got into the united states naval academy because of his “antecedents” - otherwise known as the double shame of being the son of immigrants and having a jewish last name. when ice gets his acceptance letter, he almost tears it up, but decides against it. he’ll show them they were wrong to ever cast aside his father by becoming the best student (and the best pilot) they’ve ever seen -- and takes a certain, perverse satisfaction from going to shabbat dinners at the campus rabbi’s house.

in 1977, the ccar (the reform movement’s rabbinical council) decides that in judaism, one is only responsible for religious obligations that one can freely choose to fulfill; thus, since homosexuality is not chosen, its expression cannot be forbidden. ice comes out to his family in 1981, when he’s 22 years old. his grandmother doesn’t bat a lash, and instead asks when he’s going to bring a nice jewish boy home instead of a nice jewish girl. ice doesn’t cry, but it’s a near thing.

don’t tell anybody you’re one of us, tom, bill kazansky tells him. not unless you trust them. promise me that, son. bill kazansky, who spent years having people call him that fucking k*ke kazansky behind his back, would know, and ice promises.

but you don’t look like a jew! says bill cortell with wide eyes, after ice tells him that he doesn’t really celebrate christmas. ron kerner smacks bill on the back of the head and tells him to shut the fuck up. he and ice become fast friends after that.

ice speaks fluent english, conversational russian and spanish, and only knows insults in yiddish -- all of which he’s tempted to say whenever maverick mitchell (an oysshteler if ice has ever seen one) does something stupid, either in the air or on the ground.

after goose dies, after the funeral, after placing a few smooth stones at the base of goose’s tombstone, ice goes to synagogue for the first time in years and says the mourner’s kaddish for goose. jews don’t believe in heaven or hell, but he hopes goose is in a better place now anyway.

david ben gurion once said that a jew who doesn’t believe in miracles is not a realist, but ice isn’t quite ready to accept that maverick mitchell flying to his rescue after five migs come out of nowhere counts as a miracle. (what does count as a miracle, in his opinion, is that his feelings for maverick get enthusiastically reciprocated after painful months of shoving them down -- and ice has never been happier to be proven wrong.)

ice doesn’t tell maverick he’s jewish until after they get together -- and even then, he’s nervous because this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he doesn’t want maverick to look at him with disgust and ask him where his horns are. maverick thinks it’s cool and pesters him with questions. (so why are the matzah balls separate from the whole matzah anyway? he asks, genuinely curious. god mav you’re so fucking stupid, ice says, and kisses maverick until they both run out of air.)

(when ice introduces mav to rachel kazansky, who’s in her early nineties but no less sharp and proper, she sizes him up with the cool assessing gaze that ice inherited and says, are you jewish, maverick? when maverick admits he isn’t, she gives a long dramatic sigh and shakes her head. oh well, she says dryly, almost perfect.)

[drwcn]

Hi anon!! :) I’m so thrilled to get a btsf ask because my brain has been on discordance waves for the past week. It really has motivated me to write more for btsf. It’s turning into a such a complex plot that I’m feeling a little daunted. I’ve got a lot of stuff written, bits and pieces... just not....chapter two >___>

Wen Qing and Meng Yao do not necessarily work together. For the most part, they are two independent spies existing simultaneously, each with their own agenda. Below cut is a little snippet of Wen Qing. 

Warning: SPOILERS & graphic displays of violence. 

Wen Qing doesn’t burn. No Wen ever does. 

Still, she winces when the tea touches her tongue, a degree left of too hot, ruining the flavour. Hissing in more annoyance than pain, she flashes a cold side glare towards the underling who brought her the drink. The boy lowers his head immediately, curling into a deep, embarrassed bow. His name is Wen Tinglu, and he’s even younger than her A-Ning.

She frightens him. 

Wen Qing sets the ceramic cup down on the table with one hand, the dismissal in her gesture clear. It lands louder than necessary, eliciting a round of half-suppressed flinches from the Wen soldiers - disciples, a reminding voice whispers - waiting at her beck and call. 

She frightens all of them. 

Good. 

Wen Qing inspects her nails, drawing out the suspense she knows is eating up those around her. They’re painted a nice dark red, a Wen red, and long too, not too long to be inconvenient, but longer than she would’ve had them in the past. She has no use for short, sensible nails these days. Nails that short were meant to prevent injury when she bandaged patients, to not get caught on sutures when she stitched together wounds. 

These hands do heal anyone anymore.  

Across the room, her victim shivers on the rack. Winter rain in the south is a wretched ordeal. The poor thing is soaked through, dragged from the muddy ruins of their latest battlefield. 

Wen Qing approaches him silently, letting her fingers gently caress the row of instruments she has ordered to be prepared and laid out neatly in clean, wooden trays. They’re thoroughly washed and soaked in alcohol daily, and in the flickers of firelight illuminating this dingy little countryside hut, the metal shines and glistens. 

She sees the man’s gaze follow her movement, his eyes though drooping from exhaustion remained focused, unblinking. She sees him swallow and his body tremble. This time, she knows it’s not because of the rain. 

From the colour of his tattered robes, she realizes he’s one of Nie Mingjue’s men. From experience, she knows they’re hard to break. 

No matter, Wen Qing always gets what she wants in the end. 

She picks up a scalpel and puts it underneath his chin. The press of her hands is gentle as she lifts his face so he can meet her smile. “Tell me, brave soldier, what’s your name?” 

He spits in her face. A drop lands in her eye. 

“Demoness!”

Her disciples lurch forward to defend her, but Wen Qing waves them off with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. 

Dabbing her face with the edge of her sleeve, Wen Qing laughs. “You make your Nie-zongzhu proud, I must admit. I’m sure he won’t blame you for all that you’re about to tell me.”

“I will tell you nothing!”

Wen Qing flashes him her best and brightest smile. He is stunned momentarily, the full force of Wen Qing’s beauty giving him mental whiplashes. It must be disconcerting, she muses - fully aware of her appearance and its effect on the people around her - to see such a lovely smile on a such an abhorrent face, too beautiful surely to belong to a woman promising the most terrifying of ends. 

“We’ll see.” 

The scalpel cuts down the prisoner’s sternum before he could speak another word, one long stroke from nape to navel. The cut is shallow, just a thin red ribbon rippling in its trail. 

The man does not die, but he does scream. 

From the corner of her eyes, Wen Qing spots the boy who ruined her tea sway from where he stands, probably imagining himself in this poor sod’s place. To her satisfaction, he’s not the only one who appears mildly green around the gills. 

Wen Qing twists on her heels, swirling around almost dance-like. “Would anyone like to try?” She holds out the bloodied blade towards her disciples, waving it in a welcoming gesture at the myriad of other instruments available. 

No one takes her up on her offer. She doesn’t expect any of them to. Back in the early days when Wen Ruohan gave her free rein to form a team, she had chosen her men and women carefully. She picked the loyal, the humble, the competent, and even the brave, but she had searched into their eyes and made sure she could not detect any trace of blood-lust. Those, she argued, should be kept on the front line where the enemies are. The disciples at her side need to be efficient, obedient and nothing more. That, is paramount. 

“Useless!” Her expression darkens, and her friendly, teasing tone vanishes in a heartbeat. “Why does His Excellency even bother keeping you lot around? Get out.” 

Her Wen disciples do not need to be told twice. 

“You,” she stops Wen Tinglu. “Bring me another cup of tea when I’m done. Try not the ruin it this time.” 

“Yes, Wen-guniang.” The boy bows repeatedly, backing out of the room and nearly tripping on his feet in the process. 

Once she is left alone to do her work, she turns back to the Nie disciple. He has closed his eyes, trying, she imagine, to retreat somewhere deep in his mind where there is no pain. He will not have much luck with that. 

She steps up close to him, so close she can smell the sweet metallic tang of his blood. “It would be easier if you told me your name. I’ll keep you in mind, as I keep all of them in mind.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Wen Qing!” 

Wen Qing takes out a small vial from her robes. She let the darkness slip from her disguise just a fraction. “I’m sorry I have to do this, but this will help. You’ll be with your family soon I promise.” 

The prisoner’s brows furrow, and he struggles in vain as Wen Qing forces the liquid into his mouth and makes him swallow it. 

“What did you just give me,” he pants, retching at the vile taste of the potion. 

Wen Qing does not answer. She closes her hand over one of his and whispers against his ear.

“The Sunshot Campaign thanks you for your service. Now, don’t forget to scream.” 

And he does. 

Half a shichen later, when the screaming and begging quiets, Wen Tinglu returns with a fresh cup of pu’er. Wen Qing looks up from the meticulous washing of her hands as he enters, jittering and quivering, his presence announced by the cacophonous tune of the chinas clinking against each other in his tray. 

The boy meets her eyes, then steals glance over her shoulder to the flayed carcass left on the rack. He’s only just able to set the tea down on the table before doubling over and throwing up onto the dirt floor 

Maybe the pig’s intestine was too much...thinks Wen Qing, rubbing her arm where she has also made a cut into herself. 

Each clan has their own collection of forbidden practices, some more than others. Wen Mao’s rise to power was not entirely achieved by following the path of righteousness. One does not, after all, defeat an enemy like Xue Chonghai without a deeper understanding of the other side. This kind of cultivation is bordering on the occult, and it demands a heavy price.

Wen Qing is completely depleted; she hopes it does not show. Her spiritual core has never been cultivated to be strained in such a way. She can’t go on like this forever, she knows, but the war is far from over, and the path she has embarked on stretches endlessly ahead. 

“Burn him. I want a clean finish,” she says to Tinglu and takes a seat. She drinks her tea and closes her eyes. 

The boy does as he’s told, but he barely has enough gumption to grasp the torch and light the Nie disciple’s body aflame. It is no wonder then that he does not notice the protection talisman carved into the prisoner’s back. 

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part VI

Pairing: Tech x Togruta!Reader, Wrecker/OC

Characters: Echo, Ik'aad, Tech

Warnings: None

Summary: Sometimes awkward is cute and sometimes it's just not

Previous Parts and Extended Universe can be found here

------

Y/N glances over at the ARC Trooper perched carefully at the edge of the examination table. He sits stock still, skin as pale as Durosian marble. It is only the near silent whir of the drives in his right arm that let her know he’s more than a statue. Even then, the Techno Union’s wizardry with his prosthetic is so good that she doubts a human ear would pick it up. 

She wants to spit every time someone mentions Wat Tambor’s name.  The socket arm and it’s connections are a marvel of Techno Union know how but it rips at her heart. They’d created such a device, a prosthetic that could offer quality of life to those in need,  only to use it to further progress the Separatist agenda. 

“You’re quiet today” she notes leaning her hip against the counter behind her as she takes him in. Echo is pale still, unnaturally so, but his cheeks aren’t nearly as sallow or as sunken as when he’d first arrived on base. His eyes are brighter, if not guarded. He’s stopped twitching when she touches him.  

Being away from Skako Minor was doing well for him but he needed time and that wasn’t something the GAR was likely to allow. She’d heard whispers of him joining a mission with Clone Force 99 very soon.

 On Coruscant she’d not been immune to talk of clone rights and she was quick to agree with those who spoke out for them. It made her uncomfortable that all her work was only to prepare a newly liberated prisoner of war to be forced right back into the field. Wrecker had tried to explain that this was the life they were, quite literally,  made for. The life they trained for from creation. It didn’t sit right still.

“They refer to you as Ik’aad.”

She cocks her head at the question.  It’s the first thing Echo has said since arriving in her part of the bay for his daily once over.  They’ve been doing this song and dance for nearly a week now. Like any good clone, the healing process was progressing remarkably quick and his injuries were already fading.  Granted those were ones Y/N could see. 

He was sober, quiet, speaking little most days and then without end on others, as if the words had built up during his time in stasis and they had to spill out or risk causing him to implode with the weight of them. 

While he hadn’t offered her many smiles he also didn’t seem to dislike her company. She could work with that. 

His observation though is curious. Of course, she knew who they were. For better or worse she’d earned more than a few looks as information about the Bad Batch had trickled through the base's ranks, and with it her name attached to the unit.

She spent more than enough time with Wrecker for a very specific set of rumors to begin circulating. The thought of the whispers she’d heard the other day in the mess made her cheeks burn. It hadn’t done much for her socially. Her new roommate seemed immune to them though and that was a comfort she was glad to take. The ARC trooper didn’t seem to mind much either, though he had his own bits of gossip that followed him. 

“I suppose they do”

Y/N glances at the bleak reminders of his time under corporate control. The cold, alloy of Techno Union metal sticking out starkly against Echo’s skin.

The neural access ports, unfortunately, had been woven so tightly into the neural pathways of the Arc Troopers brain that there was no way to seperate the two. The ones that had connected his lungs and diaphragm while in stasis were no better. They were to be permanent fixtures. While Echo had joked just the day before that some of his vode would be jealous of the look she had a feeling he was not fond of the modifications.

Rex had been a frequent visitor during his first few days in the medbay, almost constant in his devotion to his vod. Surprisingly, so had some of her other charges. Hunter had stopped by a handful of times and both Wrecker and Crosshair had frequently sat with him to distract while she worked. Today was actually the first day he’d shown up for his treatment and not had an escort. The ARC Trooper had left an impression amongst the Bad Batch and only time would tell if that was a good thing or not. 

Y/N moves slowly to start his vitals. 2-1B, the medical droid was kept on standby when Echo was under her care. She’d discovered early on that too much time under the droids watchful eye and its inability to take things at the troopers pace had a tendency to exacerbate the former POWs anxiety. Y/N was ok working without Too-bee’s assistance and taking a more languid pace if it made her patient comfortable.

“Do you know what it means?”

Y/N glances up at the trooper. “I’ve never thought about it really” she says, turning to gather supplies to clean and redress the few deeper lacerations the ARC trooper still had, places where there had not been enough skin to pull together to suture. 

She makes a small gesture with her fingers and Echo begins peeling his shirt off. It gets hung on the edge of his prosthetic and he struggles for a moment, frustration evident before he takes a deep breath and slowly uncouples it from the alloy. He folds the black shirt neatly and places it atop his armor as Y/N finishes laying out supplies on her work table and rolls it next to his perch. Slipping on gloves, she begins peeling spent bacta patches off, holding the skin taught as she does to ease the tug on his skin. “So, are you going to leave me in suspense or are you going to tell me?”

Echo likes the way she smiles at him. It makes what she does easier. He tries not to flinch as she removes the last patch. 

The engineers, the doctors, Tambor those who’d performed his modifications had looked at him like anything other than a science experiment, a tool, a profit margin. Y/N sees him as a person. She accommodates him. She’s learned quickly his ins and outs and she doesn’t push. She treats him like an individual. And she smiles. She smiles so bright and full that she lights the room, like star shine on a dark night. Her presence soothed him. She made him feel like he had choices and the power to make them.

“Baby. They call you Baby” the first time he’d heard the words slip from Wrecker’s mouth he’d done a double take.  Then he’d heard it from Hunter, and finally, Crosshair. It was a term of endearment he hadn’t heard from a clone before. The way they treated her was soft, even Crosshair who was rough and callous to the other troopers, the Regs, seemed to thaw, if only slightly,  for the little Togruta.

Y/N shrugs, “Hmm?” She hums plopping onto a stool and spinning around a few times before she rolls in front of him and offers him a shining smile, pearly incisiors peeking out. “That’s cute. You gonna call me baby too?” She teases.

Echo feels his cheeks heating. “Could I? Would that be... strange?”

Y/N shrugs again, “I don’t think so” she says motioning toward his bare chest. She takes a piece of bacta soaked gauze and waits for his nod before she begins cleansing the minor lacs and scrapes. Her touch is light as she moves. Echo’s eyes drift shut. Touch was still… touch was something novel and when he was given a bit of softness he was going to soak up every bit he could.

“Ik’aad” he tests the name out. He’s spoken so little Mando’a since his capture that it feels foreign on his tongue, not unpleasant, more like a long forgotten friend he needed to become reacquainted with.

When his eyes open back he’s greeted by an impish grin. “See that’s not so bad.”

He’s not sure if she is talking about the wound care or the nickname. He nods anyway as she pats the areas dry and applies fresh bacta patches, fewer than the day before.

“You know what I’ve got to do now?” She questions softly. 

This he did know and he feels his shoulders tense at the thought. The metal ports implanted along his skull and back had been placed prior to going into stasis. They allowed the Techno Union access to his memory’s as well as a means to keep his respiratory system functional. The skin surrounding the ports had healed but had never had a chance to callous or grow accustomed to the push and pull that movement caused. His freedom and sudden increase in activity had caused sores to develop around the ports themselves, the skin raw and chaffing. The doctors had all been in agreement that with time the skin would toughen and the sores would heal but in the interim it left him uncomfortable and required daily tending.

Y/N- Ik’aad, he corrects mentally, rolls her stool slowly around the exam table, letting her feet flop in front of her and pull herself around. He’s tense but he can’t help the weak tug at the corner of his mouth at her antics, she looks up and catches his eye with a knowing grin.

She stands, forgetting the stool in lieu of a more upright position. “Why do you think they call me Ik’aad?” She asks conversationally, trying out the word for herself,  as one hand falls to his shoulder Her movements allow him to telegraph where here next touch would land.  She did it the same way each time. Top to bottom. Left to right. It bred a sense of familiarity and, on the worst days, gave him points of reference for how long it would take. In the beginning she’d talked him through each step of the process until he’d asked her to stop. Since then she’d tried to distract him. They both knew what she was doing but neither found fault in it so she continued her chit chat and he continued to listen. 

Y/N begins moving a fresh piece of bacta moistened gauze around one port, cleaning the crust and debris that clung to the wound away. Echo tries to focus on her question and not the sting of the antiseptic as the gauze washes away the dried flakes of drainage.

“You’re small” he starts “like, you-could-fit-in-my-pocket-and-go-on-missions tiny”

Y/N giggles as she continues to work, “is that so?”

Echo shrugs, “you’re  kind of adorable too-“

“Not you too! You sound like Wrecker.” she growls playfully, “If you start telling me you want to pinch my cheeks I swear, Echo...” she threatens without any real threat.

“Nothing like that. You’re like- like- “ he looks for a word. He knows there’s one that fits but it eludes him. “I think you just have a way about you that makes them feel...” he shrugs.

“Well if you don’t know what they’re thinking what do you think? How do I make you feel?” It’s an honest question, born of genuine curiosity. Like the clones in the Bad Batch, he kept coming back to see her when any medic, clone or civvie, could do what she was doing.

“You make me feel warm.” He says without hesitation. “For so long everything was so cold, distant and you’re-“ he snaps his fingers and Y/N startles fingers pressing into the flesh where she was beginning to work at the next row of ports. “Vod’ika” he says firmly flinching at the press.

“Translation Echo?”

“Uhh, little sibling. Sister or brother. It’s interchangeable.” He explains. A smile splits his face knowing he’s finally placed the feeling she drew out of him and what he assumed the other as well-

“Y/N?” The question is followed by a sharp knock to the wall nearest the thick curtain that separates the room from the rest of the med bay. 

Echo and Y/N turn toward the familiar voice. Y/N gives him a questioning look and he nods.

“Come on in Tech? Is everything ok?” Y/N places a hand to Echo’s bare shoulder as she tosses the used gauze in a nearby bin. The clone watches curiously as Tech’s helmet, visor flipped up,  flicks ever so slightly from Y/N to where her hand rested than back again.

“I- I didn’t know you were busy. Everything’s fine.” He clarifies quickly. Even modulated, his voice is just a touch higher than Echo is used to. “I just wanted to see- I just thought I’d swing by”

“We were just finishing up” she turns back to Echo and motions to his shirt. “You good to gear back up”. He pulls the blacks on silently as he watches the two.

Tech doesn’t call the medic Ik’aad. It’s the first time Echo’s noticed. He also realizes Tech is rarely around when she is. Echo watches the engineer take a step into the room and again his narrowed eyes flick back to where Echo is seated.

“What can I do for you?” She questions peeling away gloves and turning toward the sink to wash her hands.   Echo notices for the first time something different in the tone of her voice, almost shy.

“Wrecker said” he hesitates “you were getting ready for your FAS cert test?  I came across a study guide that might help, if you want to use it that is?” He asks holding a pocket drive between gloved fingers.

Though he’s the one supposed to be here, Echo suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something. It’s like watching one of the shinies back in the day at 79’s approach a woman for the first time. It’s a dance with no music and Tech has two left feet. 

Y/N reaches up and toys with the end of a lek as she turns around. “That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Y/N is more quiet, far less verbose than Echo has become accustomed to.

“It really would be helpful. Maybe-“ she pauses. Glancing down, she seems to steal herself before her eyes travel back back up to the other clone “maybe you could help me study?”

The ARC trooper finds himself silently rooting for the other clone. She’d baited the hook and thrown it out there.  The way Tech’s eyes widen behind his goggles and the near panic that flares up is not lost on Echo.

“I’m- I’m really busy actually” Tech spits out quickly. 

Echo cringes as they both seem to deflate. He wonders how neither sees it in the other.

“Oh, ok. That’s- that’s really thoughtful of you.” Color flares in the togrutas cheeks “Again. I already said that didn’t I?” Her hip bumps against her tray table as she moves and she makes a small disgruntled noise as bacta splashes across her tac pants. “Kriff” she curses silently as she looks down and wipes uselessly at the spreading patch of wetness.

There’s towels on a rack along the wall and Echo watches Tech look at them but when he doesn’t move Echo does.

“Here, Ik’aad.” He grabs two and hands her one. Her face is flushed when she looks up. Embarrassed. She gives him a weak smile.

She presses the towel against the wetness soaking into her pants. “Have I told you you’re my favorite patient?”

“No. But I’m glad to hear it” 

Behind him he can hear Tech shift from foot to foot. Echo had given him a chance to come to her aide and he’d dropped the ball. When he glances back he catches Tech’s narrowed eyes. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be-. 

Echo can see the look in the other clones eyes and it isn’t particularly generous. He arches a brow back as Tech drops his visor.

“I’m going to leave this here for you, Y/N” Tech announces looking past Echo and setting the pocket drive down. 

Y/N waves him off. Avoiding eye contact as she balls the towel up and throws it in the hamper.

“Thanks. I’m sure it’ll come in handy.” She says puffing out a frustrated breath through pursed lips. Her attention goes back to Echo. 

“So now that my uniform is soaked, do you have plans for lunch?”

The ARC trooper shrugs, “I hadn’t planned anything. I’ve got to get some range time scheduled in later but I’m free for a bit.”

“Good. I’ve just gotta run by my room and change and then you can take me to the mess. You can keep telling me about how amazing I am.” She teases weakly. Her eyes widen as she looks past him and notices Tech still standing in the doorway.

“You can come too if you want but I understand if you’re busy”

He hesitates for half a second and Echo is sure he’s going to take her up on the offer. He can see it in the way he leans forward, the way his left hand clenches and unclenches that he wants to. 

“Maybe another time?”

Y/N barely manages a halfhearted “yeah, sounds good” before the engineer is turning on his heels and making his escape.

“I don’t think he likes me much,” she notes quietly after he’s gone.

Taglist: @skdubbs @pastelbunny1501 @my-own-oracle @underworldqueen13​ @obiorbenkenobi​ @adritozier @dafodddil @daniellajocelyn

[brasskier]

Damsel in distress Jaskier, except the monster of the week is Miss Piggy

Fuck, this was fun to write. Came out pretty good, which means I’m not drunk enough yet lmao. Enjoy the suspense and the sheer bullshittery. ❤️

"Geralt?" His name escaped in a panicked gasp, that odd whisper-shout that was unmistakably Jaskier and unmistakably terrified. "What the fuck is that?" 

"You're not going to like this," Geralt mumbled back, splitting his attention between his trembling companion a few steps behind him and the unfamiliar entity lingering just a stone's throw ahead of them and half-obscured by the overgrown brush. "But I don't know." Jaskier let out a breathy moan, flinging a hand up to cover his mouth. Geralt rolled his eyes. 

“What do we do?” For once, Geralt thought, that was actually a pretty good question. The thing was, Geralt didn’t know. The figure was short, only coming to the height of a young child, round in frame and cloaked in black, a bright hint of platinum hair escaping at the corner of its hood. Nothing - absolutely nothing - in any bestiary Geralt had ever read or in any tale Geralt had ever been told or even in any of Jaskier’s fantastically fabricated ballads had come close to matching the description of this… lifeform? Beast? If that was even what it was - for all Geralt knew it might very well be, in fact, a child. 

“Stand back,” he commanded Jaskier, gruffly and quietly, dipping a hand back to withdraw his sword, keenly aware not to draw attention to them as the blade glinted in the moonlight. He had finally settled on what he was going to do - what he always did. Keep Jaskier as far back and out of harm’s way as was possible with the over-curious bard, arm himself, and investigate. Jaskier shuffled back, ducking behind a tree and peering around it, his arms grasped around the rough bark. With one last glance back and a nod of determination from Jaskier, Geralt pressed carefully forward, hesitant to disturb the creature. This plan did not work, as the crunch of Jaskier’s boots on dry leaves erupted through the still silence of the forest, and Geralt cursed under his breath and braced himself for an oncoming attack. 

The creature did not attack, but rather turned slowly to face him, taking a shuffling step into the moonlight. Finally, Geralt could make out the features of its face - skin (fur?) tan and almost felt-like in texture, flaxen tresses framing a round chin, the widest of eyes complete with exaggeratedly voluminous lashes, and - perhaps strangest of all - the snout of a hog. This, truly, was something Geralt was entirely unprepared for. Something half-human, half-swine, and entirely an abomination of nature.

“Is that…?” Jaskier breathed, and he jerked his back just long enough to note that Jaskier was, much to his chagrin, hovering over his shoulder, gaping at the creature. Familiarity seemed to settle in his gaze. “Miss Piggy?” Geralt narrowed his eyes at Jaskier before movement in his peripheral stole his attention and he snapped his gaze back to the creature. It - she? - was closer still now, clutching a pearl necklace against her chest, lifeless eyes boring into him. 

“What do you want?” Geralt demanded, having altogether had enough of this shenanigans.

“Kermie,” she keened, and Geralt noticed the distinct lack of tongue or teeth in her mouth. “Where is my Kermit?” Geralt had positively no idea what a “Kermit” was, and he also did not care to stick around long enough. Somewhere just behind him Jaskier groaned and swayed, and when Geralt peered back at him he was white as a sheet. With a sigh, a huff, and a few choice expletives, Geralt wrapped a steadying hand around Jaskier’s soldiers and took off towards where they’d left Roach, practically throwing Jaskier onto her back and launching himself in place behind him before setting off. Finally a safe distance from their unnerving encounter, Geralt eased Roach to a halt, tilting Jaskier’s chin to face him.

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, more confused than he could remember having been in a long while. Jaskier shook his head, stray brown hairs coming down to curtain his forehead.

“It’s… gods, it was an old wives’ tale, back in Lettenhove,” he exhaled, piercing Geralt with an uneasy stare. “My mother used to tell it to me before bed, when I was a boy.” He fidgeted with one of the rings on his finger, gnawing at his bottom lip. “Miss Piggy, she was some kind of pig woman, an actress of some sorts.” His words blurred together, pleading for Geralt to believe him with his eyes. “Married to a frog, I think.” He huffed a laugh, leaning back against Geralt.

“You think… this fairytale character from your childhood… was what we just saw?” Geralt clarified incredulously. 

“I swear, Geralt. On the gods.” To be entirely fair, Geralt couldn’t exactly come up with a better explanation himself at the moment. So he shrugged, urged Roach onwards, and carried on into the night in contemplative silence.

I'm getting wine drunk tonight so send me your most ridiculous prompts and I'll write them!

[iridescenceoflove]

picture me (just like this) - Chapter 2/2

Still for @lnc2 (I know it's no longer strictly Marichat, but I don't think you mind some Ladynoir). :D 

AO3 + FFN

Summary: Chat Noir’s finished Ladybug’s gift. 

She didn't forget about the photos.

(Or what they meant to him.)

Chat Noir on his part hadn't uttered a single word about the project or any plans for a gift exchange to Ladybug—unlike his usual M.O. of telling her anything and everything under the sun that didn't possibly have to do with identities—so she easily deduced that it was indeed supposed to be a top-secret surprise for herself. Of course, that wasn't exactly a possibility at this point. (Not that Chat had to know such.)

He did, however, try and show Marinette the finished product, and whilst it was extremely tempting to agree, she'd forced herself to impose some sense of curtailment on her eagerness in the end. So instead, she'd insisted on waiting until Ladybug saw it, as it would be more special and intimate for her to be the first one to see it before anyone else. She'd figured she already technically ruined her own surprise, so the least she could do was wait and keep as much suspense as she could—even if there was a desperate desire to just sneak a little peek.

(But he'd sounded so giddy over the phone about it; so she could be patient for him.)

That didn't mean she arrived to patrols without bated breath and searching eyes. According to Tikki, her patience sucked.

Eventually, he showed up one evening with the precious little cargo tucked underneath one arm, and she had to contain the urge to squeal and make grabby-hands.

"What's that?" she blurted as his boots touched the rooftop.

According to Tikki, her acting skills sucked too.

Chat made a show of glancing down confusedly. "You mean this?" He gave it a little shake.

"Yeah, is it a gift?"

Tikki may have been somewhat right.

Chat didn't seem to notice though. "Maybe. Maybe not," he wheedled, rocking on his heels.

"Well, it sure looks like a gift to me," she huffed, impatiently crossing her arms.

"Somebody is the curious cat tonight."

"And unlike you, I deserve my satisfaction," she sniffed primly.

"And someone's not going to deserve her gift instead," he taunted.

"Told you!" she grinned, putting forth her hands expectantly.

"You did not!" he retorted, yanking back the present against his chest. "You were just being nosy."

"Was not."

"Were too."

"I don't see how I was being nosy when it's my present."

"But you didn't know that at first."

She scowled. "I had a feeling."

"How?" he pouted.

"Uhh," she stammered. "Well, who else would you be carrying a gift for?"

"Ah ah ah, I think," Chat declared, hiding the present from her line of sight behind his back, "you just don't want to admit you like my presents. And didn't want this to be for anybody else."

"Pffft," she scoffed, waving a hand, "sure, the diamond earrings and Chanel bag were some nice momentos, but they're a little flashy."

And extremely expensive. And the nicest things she owned that had to stay tucked away in her closet because he refused any of her vetoes, and she couldn't be seen with them without raised eyebrows and questions; but she did admire them from time to time. They were sweet gifts nonetheless.

"Alas, she has specific taste," Chat said, inching the gift back out into view.

Her eyes automatically followed the movement of it. "Please," she blinked very kindly up at him.

He sighed. "Who am I to resist the wiles of my Lady." He dropped the gift into her hands with a flourish.

She grinned triumphantly, appraising the book-shaped object covered in her favorite shade of pink and black polka dotted wrapping paper, topped off with a cute little white bow in the middle.

"I will warn you," Chat informed, astoundingly shy all of the sudden, "it's no diamonds or Versace; in fact, I sort of made it, so it's definitely nothing amazing—"

"Don't be silly—I bet it's one of your best gifts yet," she winked, slipping a finger under one of the folds on the backside.

She was pretty sure it could look like a three-year old did it and she would love it still.

Encased in the wrapping was a simple black leather book with the title Adventures of LB and CN and a yin and yang symbol in the corner.

"Uh, I actually was able to commission Nathaniel to do a little edit of the yin and yang symbol to fit our themes...since, you know, we're like yin and yang?"

She nodded, smiling as she softly grazed a finger over the area.

Flipping open the book, there was the dedication on the first page:

For My Lady, My Partner, My Best Friend

She was certain her cheeks couldn't stretch any further.

The first few photos were definitely from the beginning of their partnership. Like their first fist bump, first pose for the press, and one of their first selfies even—they all were lined against the pages, showcasing the novelty and surrealness that encompassed the first couple of weeks. She shook her head in amazement. Even as it felt so long ago, it was as if it were just yesterday she opened that little box of change and responsibility.

It was clear as she continued that Chat had arranged them in a linear-timeline, as the photos became newer and more comfortable. The photos he had first shown her that night in her room were peppered amongst others she noted, and there were quite a few more photos in between. If she were more courageous and self-disciplined, she would ask him to tell her what they meant to him again. And if she were honest enough with herself, she really wanted him to answer the same way he had that night, just so she could see that sparkle in his eye again—honest, hopeful, yearning, all in a way that made her feel warm and funny inside. He'd talk all night if she'd ask, and she would sit beside him and listen just because she could.

By the time she was about halfway through, more photos including other members of the team started popping up. Viperion and Pegasus posing ridiculously back-to-back, Carapace atop Chat's shoulders, Rena pranking Kim with an illusion, there was even a picture of Queen Bee cracking a reluctant grin and peace sign—they all were moments that somehow got captured. Some of the group photos had little descriptions underneath or beside the photos, like, "Goofing around with our buddies—the gargoyles," or "Ice cream and hang with the gang." Some were left by themselves, with little decals matching their respective kwami-animal theme sprinkled throughout.

"I actually got some of these photos from them," Chat said as she landed on a selfie of Viperion and Ryuko. "I mentioned to Rena what I was doing, so she offered to have herself and the others send some photos as a contribution."

If anything, the thought of her team each pitching in some of their own photos was even more touching, and her cheeks were already aching from all the smiling she was doing.

"That was nice of them."

It truly surprised her—the amount of pictures that had been taken and printed so she could relive them all, each photo recalling each moment with clarity and affection.

But to finish it off, at the very end was a photo of her and Chat sitting on a rooftop, her head on his shoulder and their backs to the camera as the sun set; two figures against the fevered oranges and yellows of the sky, side by side. Underneath read—

Ladybug,

No matter what happens, I hope you can look back upon this with fond memories and remember some of the best times. Because my best times are when I'm with you. So here's to all the memories—even good and bad—and many more that will stand the end of time, just like us. You and me, against the world.

Your Partner, Chat Noir

By the time she got to the ending line, it was becoming too blurry. She swiped a knuckle under her eye, not wanting to risk a single teardrop lest it mar the precious page.

"Oh my god, you're crying! I messed up, didn't I— I'm sorry, this—"

She effectively cut off his rambling worries as she threw her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. "You didn't mess up a thing. I love this."

"You do?"

She fervently nodded her head against his shoulder as she laughed, the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck tickling her cheek. "I do. This is amazing."

"On par with Versace?"

"Better," she corrected, running a hand over the front cover reverently. "This is the best gift ever, Chat." She already knew its rightful place where it belonged; nestled in between the two dried roses in the box tucked in the secret corner of her closet.

He grinned, looking simultaneously shy and pleased as he stood before her. "Well, I thought you could use something that'd bring a smile to your face."

'And—and she just looked so happy, so carefree, standing under her umbrella in the rain with a smile that could turn any cloud in the sky away as she explained. I couldn't help but take a photo, because I knew then that as long as I know her, I'd always try to get her to look like that. Happy.'

"You make me happy."

The words slipped past her lips, unbidden, honest, and completely unchecked; but she wouldn't take back the words for anything.

"I do?" he blinked, voice colored with surprise and wonder, as if any foresight to insert the usual flair of charismatic self-assuredness into his tone disappeared.

And maybe, that was why it only felt right to be honest: "Of course! I—I may not say it often enough...but you're my partner. My best friend. You've always made me happy."

Because when he'd noticed she was feeling down, he'd taken the time and effort to make something special for her, just to try and cheer her up. And sometimes, she really wondered why she drew that line for herself, and when it had become so blurred. Especially when he looked at her like that as she held what she knew was going to be one of her most treasured possessions for the rest of her life.

It turned out she didn't have to ask again. "It goes both ways, My Lady; you make me the happiest Chat around." It was said with earnest veracity—the same veracity he'd wielded when talking about her on her chaise that night—eyes sparkling and honest, his smile hopeful and yearning. A photo wasn't necessary when her brain already committed that look to her memory.

She stepped forward. "Well," she said, before stretching onto tiptoes so her lips could meet the smooth curve of his right cheek. "Thank you again, Chat Noir. I'll cherish this forever." She pulled back, the tips of their noses barely grazing— "And the book."

Smiling, she launched off the rooftop, a blushing open-mouthed Chat Noir in her wake. As she landed on the facing building, she slid her yo-yo open and pressed the camera icon, giggling as the yo-yo audibly clicked.

This was definitely a memory for the books.