#like i KNOW my chars look like Somebody out there i just need to find the closest link and stare at them rly hard until it all makes sense.

[smittyw]

realistic Ritzy Entity is both a blessing and a curse, thank you

theyre like if a young steve buscemi was also luffy from one piece but a butch lesbian as well. tough nut to crack that one

[chocsra]

✧ "MY KIND OF WOMAN"

☆ summary ↺: finding out that your crush, chuuya nakahara's type is the complete opposite of you, his close friend.

☆ content ↺: small oneshot, fluff, highschool au, other mentions of bsd chars (+gin, tachihara, hirotsu & dazai)

☆ song ↺: my kind of woman by mac demarco <3

☆ w/c ↺: 2k

sometimes, you felt unsure of yourself.

your parents and the people around you assured that there will be someone—no, plenty of people that would love you and your personality. you were rowdy, energetic and outspoken. very honestly yelling about cringe phrases in public. loved ones around you such as friends, would often shush you or swear you're going to be the death of them.

no—you weren't really weird, just humourous, mischevious and cheeky. yes, sometimes, it affected your love life. nonetheless, the people in your life always said there is someone out there who wants someone exactly like you. you are the ideal in someone's heart.

it made you wonder if others accepted their partner's flaws because they love them, or love your significant other for their flaws.

"man, i don't know."

your eyes roll at the guy beside you, sweating in his basketball uniform and adjusting his sports headband as you two sat at the foot of the bleachers. "very helpful, chuuya."

he was wearing red.

his uniform was red, his hair a colour of copper—but in sunlight he could be mistaken for ginger. and he had this look in his eyes, a look you can't but admire. it was full of passion, but he always suppressed his emotions. chuuya never expressed his emotions well.

and that's how chuuya nakahara was, a complete idiot. you were talked your ear off back then by him geeking out over a girl he likes but can't seem to express it well. though you get teased by him for keeping your head deep in the books when it comes to romance, you found yourself comforting him at 3am when he can't get his mind off another girl, who probably broke his heart.

that was the past when you were both new to highschool, of course he wanted a girlfriend. which was especially difficult since he was best friends with the basketcase of the school—dazai osamu. well, even he had girls liking him, which was surprising since he's not exactly friends with this thing called deodorant.

"well, why would you see flaws in somebody you love and think it's something to be changed?" the boy inquires, chugging his waterbottle. "when you don't love them, flaws shouldn't matter, and when you do love them, their flaws should be part of the reason you do."

cute, you thought.

"that's how it should be!" — you pause, waving your hands all over the place trying to express yourself, "but not everyone thinks like that, y'know?"

he chuckles, "well, unlucky for you, some people's flaws can be unbearable." you shoot a glare at your friend, "the hell is 'unlucky for you' supposed to mean?"

chuuya snickers, "nothing." he looks up at the gym's ceiling, eyebrows scrunching when he sees the numerous dodgeballs stuck up there. how did that get up there? he thinks for a second. you wrinkle your nose in distaste, "—asshole." he quickly averts his gaze from the ceiling, to your scrunched up face.

"hey!"

after settling down from trying to flick each other's foreheads for an extended period of time, you squish your cheek onto your palm. "since we were on the topic of relationships, what is your type in a girl?" you ask casually, the usual hustle and bustle of basketball boys and their friends watching screaming in the gym. "my type in a girl?.."

he thinks for a second, finger tapping on his chin.

"i like elegant girls, girls who are super classy." he smirks, closing his eyes with confidence in his answer.

your eyes widen a bit,

—you were nothing like any of those things.

"well, my type is tall guys." you quickly retort, the redhead almost pouts, before refraining it to a scoff.

"chuuya, we need you on the court, man!" a firm call back runs from one of his teammates, "oh shit," the redhead quickly gets up, setting his waterbottle.

"see ya later, idiot." his lips curve up in a slight smile, ruffling your hair gently before returning to court.

this day sucked already.

"i've been good today.. i burnt 15 ants instead of the usual 30."

chuuya felt is eye twitch, standing near the incinerator with his childhood friend, dazai osamu. "i really fuckin' wish we weren't neighbours."

he remembers back then when his mother would tell the boy to play with his neighbour, dazai. unfortunately, he managed to stick with him forever and ever.

the brunette ruffles his wavy brown hair, crouching down to fiddle with a few new ants. "so what's new, midget?" chuuya almost swears he throws his lit lighter onto the kid right there, before scoffing, "don't call me that, bastard." the bandaged student looks at him blankly, as if he knew the redhead was bothered.

chuuya sighs, "okay, well, [y/n]'s been kinda off lately, and she won't tell me why."

dazai sighs, letting go of the ant he's been holding. "what did you do this time? if a woman is acting off, it's 100% your fault." the ginger scoffs in response, "well, our last conversation was at the bleachers. she asked me what my type was and i responded with elegant and classy girls, and she hasn't been the same since. she even said after her type was tall guys!"

the brunette smirks again, snickering devilshly for a good hot minute. "what the hell? cut it out, man. you're scarin' me!" chuuya protests, before dazai asks him:"you told [y/n] that you like elegant girls, and you have a crush on her?"

the redhead pauses and thinks about that statement for a while, "yeah, what's wrong with that?" he tilts his head in confusion. "you're so inconsiderate, chuuya." dazai hums, "[y/n]'s the polar opposite of elegant and classy."

it suddenly hits chuuya like a brick — but he still rummages to work against that statement.

"dude, you're wrong! she's got a super classy smile, and really elegant hands. even the way she moves is elegant. and—" dazai shoves a bandaged hand in his face, "please, i don't wanna hear it."

"if you want her to actually like you back, tell her that she's your type, and whatever you just said right now." dazai gets up, patting the dirt off his ass. "or, be like me, and invite her to a double suicide date."

chuuya closes his eyes in disdain, "kill yourself." the teenager smirks, "you don't have to tell me twice, slug."

"you don't understaaannndddd!!" you whine, playing the flute despondently at band practice. the girl beside you purses her lips, before writing in her pocket notebook — it's just his type. and i think you're elegant in your own way.

you pout at reading that, before sluggishly getting up. "thanks, gin..." you thank, before another redhead flashily enters band practice. "sorry for being late, mr. hirotsu, somethin' came up." your band teacher nods, before tachihara, an outspoken second year, strides up to you and gin.

"what's up with her?" the boy asks, before sitting down and fiddling with his trumphet. gin writes down — [y/n] found out chuuya's type was the complete opposite of her. tachihara looks for a moment, before laughing: "pfft.."

gin, a super pretty but androgynous second year then tells him to shut up by smacking his shoulder, earning a yelp from tachihara. "eek! well, listen, that guy is total shit anyway.. besides his super cool motorcycle, and killer smile, and his super cool motorcycle.. damn, wish i could get somethin' like that."

"shut up, tachihara." you mumble, as he scoffs dramatically, adjusting the bandage on his nose. "shouldn't you just continue talking to him? him having a type doesn't mean he doesn't like you." the redhead reasons, before reading the sheet music. "yeah but, now i think of all the girls he used to like.. and i'm nothing like them." you frown, slumping again onto the desk.

"y'know what they say.. the past is past, like how i thought gin was a boy." tachihara shrugs, frowning when he sees the middle finger she shoots at him, "i'm telling your brother you did that to me." he quips, before gin clears her throat, her silky raven hair tied back in a ponytail. "he'll beat your sorry ass." she says in the girliest voice possible.

tachihara yelps before your band teacher, mr. hirotsu reprimands you three for slacking off, frowning as you guys apologize, tachihara whispers: "point is, just talk to him." the boy says, as gin nods. "—unless you told him that you liked tall guys after, that would send him into cardiac arrest." he concluded, you gulped in slight guilt.

gin whispered in a gentle tone, "did you actually?.." you don't respond and frown even more.

"damn, you suck." tachihara finishes, yelping as the teacher yells at him again. "sorry, sir!"

it was another day, well, end of the day.

most students already went home, but you decided to stay at school to study for a bit. unbeknownst to your knowledge, it was raining heavily, and luckily for you, you had no umbrella. you sigh, jamming your earbuds in before walking out of the roof you covered yourself in.

except, upon your first step outside, you still felt no rain.

then, you saw chuuya's umbrella covering you. "hm?" you turn to him, surprised. "hey, you shouldn't get sick before my game, idiot." he chuckles as you two walked in the rain, under the same umbrella. "no way!" you smile.

an awkward silence came over you two. "uhm, about the other day," the boy starts off as you immediately flush — of course he noticed that you were upset. "hey! it's nothing serious, i—" chuuya shushes you by successfully flicking your head. you yelp, "ow.." rubbing your forehead. the boy swallows thickly, "i wanted to correct myself, actually."

raindrops. they moved at a steady pace, falling onto his black umbrella above you two, onto the pavement, and onto the cars passing by. you looked over at chuuya, who never followed dress-code, who had his button-up and tie neatly ironed. he strangely followed the dress-code perfectly today. "elegant and classy's not my type, actually."

you pause, thinking for a second. "then what is?"

"good question, actually." chuuya quips, adjusting his tie. he was completely confident when speaking, but you couldn't help but stare at the nervous quivering of his slender hands. "y'know that question you asked about flaws? it made me think that somewhere out there, every person is who someone has been exactly looking for. everyone in the world is someone's ideal type." he explained, inhaling sharply.

"—and i, uh," chuuya's words strained his throat, his cheeks are blazing and he has an odd coordination when walking. "you're my— ugh,"

cute, you thought, before internally slapping yourself.

"you're my kind of, mm, seriously?" the redhead stutters, rubbing two fingers against his temple, exhaling sharply. "you're my kind of girl, and—"

you felt a raindrop hit your cheek, it was cold and quick. but this feeling, it was slow and cherishing. warm, like a sunny day in a field of flowers, or another resting day of keeping your head in the books. after moping around for days, maybe tachihara was right. the whole ordeal was stupid, just like chuuya.

"—i like you too." you cut him off.

chuuya almost drops his umbrella in shock, as an abundance of rain water splashes onto you two. "shit!" he curses, feeling shitty for ruining the moment, but you laugh, extending out your hand to his, smiling brightly.

his lips curve into a smile, "okay, maybe this isn't that bad." chuuya quips, intertwining your fingers into his, before pressing a gentle kiss to the spot on your forehead he flicked earlier.

today, it felt like running through a field of flowers on a sunny day, even though it was raining and you got sick the next day. but it only felt that way because you had him next to you the entire time.

—in truth, he was your type too, and no, tall men were never your type.

✧ chocsra™

[shintaru]

Somethin' about him is made for somebody like me| Chris D’ Char

Moodboard ♡ m.list ♡ taglist

Warnings: not proof read, stalker reader, forced relationship

You first started stalking Chris when you saw him after his last race when he acquired his injury that ended his racing career. Even though he could no longer be the bike racer that him so popular you still couldn’t stop thinking about him. You seen his races on tv you even attended a few of his races. You’ve read so many articles about him and heard some many conversations with him being the topic.

None of them know him the way you do. He’s yours and you’re his. He was made for you. Currently he has no idea who you are. You frown and say to yourself “that will change soon”

You’re currently scrolling on your computer waiting for your printer to print the newest image of him. Once the printer is done you take the image and cut off the excess paper. You take some adhesive and stick it to the back of the image. Looking up at your shrine of you favorite person you find a perfect spot to place the new photograph. Adding a few heart stickers around the photo, taking a few steps back adjusting your glasses you admire your masterpiece. You’ve been working on it for months and it’s almost complete.

you knew his entire schedule where he would be everyday at the exact times. You use this to your advantage to get photos of him, to get information on him and who he hangs around. This time you’ll be using the information to give him a gift. You spent all night learning how to make donuts his favorite food. You prepared a small feast for him. Adding some lavender herbs to a special drink that’s only for him. You read online that lavender is a romantic herb that can promote passion, harmony, and cooperation with a lover. Just what you needed, you know it may be all lies but it doesn’t hurt to try it out.

After you’ve made the drink you turn around to get the lid from the table. As you’re reaching for the lid you hear a crash, you whip your head around in the direction to see your cat has knocked your love drink into the floor spilling the liquid that symbolized hope and love to you.

you immediately open and rummage through your drawers looking for a syringe you find it and you get as much of the drink you can and decide you’ll just put it in his food. After extracting what’s left of your love drink you set the syringe on the table and flatting out any newly made wrinkles to your dress by dusting it. After fixing your dress you take the syringe and put the liquid into his food. Smiling at your finished work you can’t wait to see his reaction you know he’ll love it.

You look at his schedule that you have printed out and pinned to your wall. You notice that today he will be at a burger restaurant. “It must be his favorite” you think to yourself. You see on the schedule how many times he goes to this specific burger place. You take note of the new information and get dressed to meet him at the restaurant.

You leave your apartment saying goodbye to your cat Char named after Chris. You fed your cat before leaving and you double check to make sure you have everything before locking your door. After locking the door you place your keys in your bag and make your way to the bus station. Buying a ticket for the street that the restaurant is on. The bus arrives and you take a seat in the back looking out the window with excitement. “I hope he accepts my gift” you say to yourself.

An elderly lady beside you looks at your gift box and tells her husband with a smile “young love, remember when we were that young and I always baked you cookies?” You overheard and gave the elderly woman a smile. “If only she knew” you thought.

Your love for him was different than any kind of love you’ve ever known or heard about but at the end of the day love is love.

You’ve never felt this way about someone before you’re not usually this obsessive so it’s all just as new to you as it will be to Chris but you can’t help yourself when you look at him. You have to make him yours whether he is ok with that or not.

The bus finally stops and you get off walking to the restaurant. You see Chris getting out of a car. At this point you can’t hide your smile. This will be your first time meeting him you have to make a good impression. You try adjusting your hair while holding his gift in your other hand. Hoping you look your best you approach him. “I made these for you, I’m a big fan” you ask hoping you aren’t coming off too strong.

He smiles and says “thanks for the gift” he turns away to head into the restaurant. You frown thinking that will be the end of your first interaction. “Would you like to join us for lunch?” Chris’s friend asks. “Sure, if that’s ok?” you ask with a smile. His friend says it’s ok. Chris looks a little confused.

You all walk into the restaurant they allow you to order first as you’re ordering you overhear their conversation. “Why did you invite her?” Chris asks. “She’s hot” his friend replies. You smile to yourself and finish ordering. They let you pick the table, so you decide to pick a booth.

They both meet you at the booth and Chris’s friend makes Chris sit beside you. You scoot to the end of the booth giving him some space. They ask for your name and you tell them. You asked for his friend’s name and he responds with Owen Knight. You’ve already heard of him before but you can’t let them know that. The waitress brings out the meals, and everyone eats.

“So how’d you become a fan of Chris, haven’t you seen my races?” Owen asks while Chris rolls his eyes. You laugh at his comment not wanting to show your disinterest in Owen. “I attended a few races and I thought his riding style was cool” you reply “really that’s it, I’m a better rider” Owen replies.

“He is also my type” you say softly trying not to seem weird but you wanted to be honest. Chris looks at you for a second then goes back to eating his food. Owen laughs and says “ik it, I like this girl and you remind me of how I am with her” “he has no idea” you think to yourself. “Does she also ride? I may have seen her” you ask. “Her names Shelly Scott” he replies “don’t get him started” Chris interrupts.

Owen asks for your number so he can ask you for advice with Shelly and you agree giving him your number. He then leaves heading to the bathroom. After a while you notice he hasn’t returned. “He’s not coming back is he?”you ask Chris. “Nope” he responds. He gets a text and you see that Owen texted him “have fun 😏” he puts his phone away and continues eating. “So how did you get into cycling?” He asks.

“I don’t ride myself but I think the races are cool a lot of people work so hard to win so I enjoy the sport” you reply finishing your meal. you both throw away your trash and head out the restaurant. “Bye, hopefully I’ll see you around sometime I had fun” you say. “Maybe we could hang out again sometime, I’ll try these donuts, thanks again” he replies. “You’re welcome” you say waving him goodbye.

You head back home on the bus. Greeting your cat as you walk in you think about how talking to him in person only made your obsession for him grow. You tell your cat all about your “date” at the restaurant. Only receiving a purr as a response.

Ever since you met at the restaurant he is concerned with your advances your everywhere he goes now. You know if you give it time he’ll come around. You learned how to cook all his favorite foods, you know everything about him. No one could love him the way you do. He can’t escape from you or your love. He has no choice but to accept your love.

inspired by Ariana’s the boy is mine music video

dedicated to @cozyunderworld @rossesnd @inosukehana

[super-ion]

So I've spent quite a bit of mental energy the last couple days on character creation for an upcoming Pathfinder game (as I do). So of course, in true Char fashion I had to throw a drabble together to get into her head (directly inspired by a scene by @the-sword-lesbian for her character).

She's a half orc inventor with a fighter flavor. She's 6'6" and built like a tank. She's a nerd with special interests. Her dump stats are wis and cha.

***

They spot her in the back of the seedy tavern. She's hunched over a table surrounded by an array of incomprehensible tools. Half a meal sits forgotten on the edge of the table. Her brow is furrowed in concentration and she chews on her bottom lip as her fingers work at the clockwork before her.

The lead bounty hunter casts a look at the barkeep, who frowns and disappears into the kitchen. A few of the more observant patrons clear out and the remainder soon follow.

Not her though, she's too busy. She is absolutely completely focused at the task at hand.

She's big, she is half orc after all, but she has a roundness to her cheeks, a softness in her shoulders. She has a few faint scars, maybe broke her nose once, but that all might just be from lab accidents. She gives off the air of an academic type, some well fed student who got too many ideas about adventure in her head.

“Akhana Greystone?”

“Huh?” she replies, jumping slightly at the interruption.

She peers at them through light brown eyes, almost golden. One of the hunters, the newbie, decides the color reminds him of when there are storms high in the mountains and the river is fully saturated with the high desert silt.

Another of the hunters notes the ribbons woven into the messy braid of dark hair, bright pink and purple. She's brought in a few marks in her career and has never seen anything so frivolous.

This job is guaranteed easy money.

The mark makes an awkward smile at the three of them, not entirely sure who to address.

“Uh… yeah, Akhana. That's me,” she replies. “Y'all need any tinker work done or anythin? I'm kind of between jobs right now, but I'm not above a little bit o’ freelance if it keeps my belly full.”

She looks at them hopefully for a moment before her smile slips at their expressions.

The leader glances back at his more seasoned companion with a raised eyebrow, silently asking if this is the right person. She frowns dubiously as she nods.

“I had a pretty good gig goin’ for a spell there,” she nervously continues, starting to ramble as she returns her attention to her work. “Gunrunning and all that. Lotta time to be alone in my head to think about designs and it pays a might bit better’n working the forges. Hurts a lot less than the fightin’ ring too. But of course, somebody had ta go and ruin it. Jerk wanted a cut of the money, like we're some kind of criminal enterprise, if you can believe that! Okay, I mean, yeah, it's technically illegal and everything, but it's not like we we're doing anything wrong, ya know? Just gettin’ supplies out to good honest folk tryin’ ta eek out a living out in the wild. So what if some of those supplies just happened to be black powder weapons of dubious provenance? I tell ya what though, Ma ain't to happy about my face being on a wanted poster, her bein’ a former marshal ‘n all that…”

She trails off, perhaps realizing that she effectively just offered a confession to a trio of strangers. She looks around the room and seems surprised to find it empty. She squints at the three of the bounty hunters in turn, sizing them up.

“Aw heck,” she says. “You fella’s are here about the bounty, ain't ya?”

The leader gives a curt nod.

“Come in quietly,” he says. “Nobody has to get hurt. It'll be easier for all of us.”

She runs her tongue along one of her tusks, considering for a moment.

“Nah,” she says finally and returns to her work, slipping the last few gears and pieces of wires into the gauntlet.

The bounty hunters exchange a baffled glance.

“Ma'am-”

She holds up a finger to silence him. She clicks a mechanism shut and spins a dial, listening intently to some unknown response. She gives a quick nod, apparently satisfied, she starts packing up her tools.

The leader clears his throat.

“Ma'am, we're here for the bounty on your head-”

“Yeah, I know,” she interrupts. “I heard ya. Answer’s still no.”

Only after the last tool is carefully placed in its place does she uncurl herself from her hunched posture. As she squares her shoulders and cracks her neck, the hunters realize that what they mistook for softness is actually a healthy layer of padding over solid muscle.

The hunter on the left, the newbie, takes a nervous step back.

She slips the gauntlet on her wrists. Something clicks and whirrs. There's a spark and a tiny puff of blue smoke from the gauntlet.

She grins, her eyes filling with a manic sort of delight.

[danosrosegarden]

dust bunny

{trigger warning: this writing piece recalls my experience with drugs, overdose, self-harm, and suicide.}

I'm going to pass out in a pool of my own frothy spittle while my bloodshot eyes roll back and my weakened heartbeat withers. Either somebody is going to find my limp, bloodied body on the carpet in enough time to take me to the hospital, or I'm going to die here. I don't care anymore.

What's more freeing than being released of the need to keep going? I was ready to lay down and rest, sink into the infinite black of sleep. I'd had just about enough of swallowing a handful of Benadryl each morning and driving to class, feeling crusted, thorny sleep poke at the corners of my eyes while my stomach gnawed on the pink pills and sloshed its acid around side to side, hungry for anything other than half a bottle of over the counter medicine.

I didn't give a fuck what I had to take, what old, probably expired prescription I had to dig up in the depths of my pill collection. My old bottle of Xanax was probably somewhere at the bottom of the drawer being eaten alive by dust. I'd find it.

When I come to in the dark, moonlit early morning, a short-haired, tattooed nurse is wiping my thighs with something that burns like hell and my parents are staring at me from small chairs across from my cramped bed. They look crunched in and uncomfortable. They look impossibly tired, ashen bags nibbling at the skin underneath their eyes. I burst into tears, and it's like my throat is a skipping record; I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. They say nothing, so I keep repeating it. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

There's no manual on what to say to your heartbroken and no doubt traumatized family after you survive an overdose, and that's all I could think to fill the air with. A thousand apologies soaked through with a warbling voice, salty tears racing down my pink cheeks, a bubble of snot popping from my right nostril.

I don't know what to feel now, recalling that late night/early morning with just a few scars left on my skin to heal and fade. Most of them are a burned, charred memory stuck in the back wrinkles of my brain.

I'm allowed to close my door and be alone now. I've been good. I went back to work at the end of the month. They say they missed me, give me cards filled with glittery, encouraging words and a pretty bouquet of blushing pink tulips.

I like to drive to the activity center and run on the track these days. I like to feel beads of sweat dangle from my hair and my heartbeat race, remind it that it's still here and kicking. Thank it for serving me so well when I cruelly raked it through the mud and carelessly picked at its veins.

I do what I can to remind myself I am alive, I am no longer collected dust at the bottom of the pill box. I am not the blackened rot that once ate away at my flesh, I am not the slashed skin or the chain-smoking on an empty stomach or the hungry acid eating away at my body. I am the cool autumn breeze blowing the tangerine orange leaves onto the yellowed fields of grass. I'm the tears welling in the eyes after a breath-stealing belly laugh. I am the light and the dark and before anything else, I am proud. Proud of where I go and what I do, proud of how I continue to exist despite it all.

I am here, and I have a life worth living. That's all I've ever wanted.

[draggeddowntothedark]

Kevin's Swan Song

Of all the ways Kevin pictured dying, he didn’t think that a song would be stuck in his head.

Yet here he was now. Knife plunged deeply into his stomach. Mordred staring in frozen shock, like he couldn’t believe Eli actually took that step, went that far. A few of the vampires watching in hungry anticipation as crimson dripped to the floor.

And all going through Kevin’s head was ‘The World’s Smallest Violin’ by AJR.

Eli finally let go of Kevin and let him drop to the floor. It was strange, it both hurt and didn’t hurt. Instinct screamed at him to pull that knife out, but Kevin dimly remembered (in between lyrics) that you shouldn’t take out knives inside of your body. Just leave it. Until the ambulance is called.

But they weren’t going to call an ambulance, were they?

Mordred was begging. Even if any of the words weren’t sinking into Kevin’s ears, he could hear Mordred’s pleading tone, asking Eli to spare Kevin- he’d do anything. He’d come back to the coven. He’d stop causing shit. He’d do anything- at the very least, don’t leave him dead-

Something about that actually made something in Kevin’s chest turn.

A life without the sun… drinking blood to survive…

The world's smallest violin,

Really needs an audience,

So if I do not find somebody soon…

Kevin grabbed onto Eli’s leg, as if also begging for his life, but his other hand was on the knife in his gut.

You killed Obsidian vampires by cutting their heads off.

I'll blow up into smithereens,

And spew my tiny symphony,

All up and down a city street,

While tryna put my mind at ease-

Maybe Kevin couldn’t decapitate the dickhead that was Eli, but he could sure as hell try. He hissed through his teeth as he successfully hauled himself to his feet while gripping onto Eli’s shirt sleeve. Eli, finally taking note of the dying human, wrinkling his nose.

“What are you doing? Lie down and die already, brat.” He tried shaking Kevin off, but Kevin had a vice grip on him. No. If this was how he went out, he was going out with one final fuck you.

Like finishing this melody,

This feels like a necessity,

So this could be the death of me,

Or maybe just a better me-

Kevin yanked the knife out of his gut and holy fuck that hurt- he nearly stumbled over but it didn’t matter. Pain wouldn’t matter in a few minutes- maybe even a few seconds- when he was dead.

Now, come in with the timpanis

And take a shot of Hennessy-

Mordred realized a second too late what Kevin was doing.

“Kevin no-”

I know I'm not there mentally-

Kevin hoped Mordred and Natalie wouldn’t miss him too much as he took that knife and buried it in Eli’s neck. The Vampire King’s eyes popped wipe open as his dead blood spattered out from his lips.

But you could be the remedy-

Kevin exhaled for what he figured was his final time as he sliced through flesh. He didn’t take off the king’s head, but he sure as hell hurt the bastard.

So let-

This was it. One final fuck you.

Me play-

Funny enough, Kevin didn’t really want to die. That was a new feeling.

My violin-

Things were going dark. Was he going to heaven or hell? Depended if he saw a light or not, he figured.

For…

There was the light. Huh. It was hotter than Kevin figured it would be. So maybe it was hell?

You!

The last thing Kevin felt before losing consciousness was that heat. Burning away his skin but rebuilding it in the same moment. Destroying him and making him.

He screamed. And it all was consumed by fire.

~*~

Welp. That happened.

Mordred reformed from mist, his jaw already dropped.

Save for Eli, the three vampires closest to Kevin were no longer there… or rather, all that was left were some soot smudges on the cement floor. The rest of the blast radius had charred skeletons.

Eli, the bastard, had actually faired pretty well considering how close he was to the fireball. He’d taken the same strategy as Mordred, but he’d not been as fast about it. Half of Eli’s body was still good… the other half looked like cooked meat. The eye that wasn’t burnt shut was still wide, the powerful vampire king shaking and lips just barely parted… but he couldn’t even scream. Just wheeze.

The only person who was perfectly fine? Kevin.

He was curled up in the fetal position on the ground, naked, obnoxious hair dye faded back to the natural black color but… fine. Even all the injures from the torture Eli had been inflicting on him for weeks was gone.

Mordred stumbled to his feet and rushed to his friend’s side- holy fuck had this all just happened- and knelt beside Kevin.

“Kev? Buddy?”

He was breathing. Mordred swallowed before he reached for Kevin’s shoulder to try and shake him awake.

Well, he would’ve, but touching Kevin’s skin was like touching a hot stove. Mordred yelped and jerked his hand away, shaking out his fingers. A look confirmed he did legitly burn himself, his fingertips healing quickly but pink and blistered.

…. What the actual fuck.

“EL! KEV!”

Natalie burst through the door, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead, a bruise on her cheek and the magical cuffs still hanging on by a thread. “What- what was that!? I heard an explosion and… what happened?”

“Uh. Kevin blew up.”

How else could Mordred describe it? Fire so hot it literally incinerated those too close exploding out of Kevin’s body… even as mist Mordred could feel that heat. He might not have eyebrows anymore.

“But he got better.”

What the fuck. Just. HAPPENED.

[eristic-kaleidoscope]

Tenet | Akito | Trial 5.5 | Re: Byrne, END, Erik A, Kori, Adrik / Attn: An and Calluna

“Respectfully, I… You know what? That is not a helpful conversation to have in a public space like this,” Akito stops himself, recognising that this is not the time or place for whatever he was going to say to Byrne. “I don’t deny that I’ve built up a web of lies about myself to stay on top of things, or engaged in further intelligence gathering disguised as two innocuous party events, and that’s because this is simply the person I’ve always been. I’m a liar when it benefits me, and I’ve accepted that means I’ll have to leave some bridges burnt beyond repair for it. Now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to move on from trying to prove myself to you, and address everything else instead. We’ll talk later. Or not.”

As both END and Erik A come by to check his phone, Akito gives his boyfriend a tight hug, exchanging no words back to him but for the silent gesture of solidarity. “I didn’t spot any sign of charred or burnt fabric over the place where An was supposedly tasered,” he first explains to END once they’ve headed back. “But it happened too quickly for me to catch anything in the few seconds they showed it off, which is why I suggested taking a closer look to see if there was one. And yes, neither Kaguya’s research nor the collaborative report on VR technology is remotely new information to us, but I was archiving the evidence in the hopes that I or someone else could keep ahold of it if the experiment met a premature end. In fact, I got around to it precisely because of the ruckus in the early morning, I took it as a sign that someone was in the process of finding us. There was a broken tracking device in the list of confiscated items, after all… I wouldn’t be surprised if it belonged to me, though I’ve no memory of actually having it.”

He turns to his boyfriend. “I received a duplicate of my old thermos from Byrne on the first day of the third week we were here. Honestly, and both Adrik and Kenshin can vouch for this, we didn’t encounter any my old thermos during our investigations of the third floor, so I had honestly no idea it was going to appear where it did. I’m certain that the game disc is planted evidence; if you use different kanji to read [Akito], you’ll get the characters for “autumn” and “outbound”, so as you’ve probably worked out from the context of the notes and what I’m saying, Fallout is the alias I’ve been working under as a whistleblower. It was a mistake to sign off with in hindsight, but I didn’t know that Calluna could also speak Japanese fluently at that point in the first week, not to mention that if Erisu is Az-8, then they have a native speaker on their team regardless.“ 

Next, he gives Kori an appreciative nod. "Something else An said, specifically when we were all gathered to find the body, also stuck out. ”I guess you should be happy somebody was fighting for you shits. Too bad that had to end, huh?“ Both of them have been pushing a very particular narrative that Erisu was responsible for helping the group behind the scenes, and that her actions forced their hand. The biggest defense some of you initially put out as to why Erisu couldn’t be Az-8 was because they framed her death as getting rid of a loose end, but if she is Az-8 then the whole narrative falls to pieces. As for that note, well, consider that there are four of us native Japanese speakers who were alive if you count Erisu, and by the metric we established earlier, both Kenshin and Kori couldn’t possibly have strangled Erisu given their current condition. It was a conditional trick to make you focus your efforts on me.” That last part is directed back to END, given the context. “I can also answer that I planted that dossier and the puzzle. I needed to get information out in public without drawing too much attention as to who wrote it, and at the same time, scour out just how much the sisters knew about my connection to HPGB. They confronted me soon afterwards, and then ended up finding out more about me than I had anticipated, and it’s been fucking me over ever since. Fucking memory machines.” He grumbles.

“All else I can offer is that the current bottle of Julietenizone in the morgue was restocked and sealed as far as I could tell, but obviously the sisters would have had backup bottles to restock it in the first place. I had checked Erisu’s arms and neck for any signs of an injection port and found none, but there are several other areas of the human body where you could reasonably inject the drug that I was not comfortable stripping her to check with Jae-min around.” Probably for the best. “The others have asked their questions about whether Erisu is alive, and I’ll echo them with one more. An, why wouldn’t you have simply answered Erisu’s question over text, if you were the only one who was watching us and had no one watching you?”

[early2000smovieimagines]

Viktor Krum with a motherly s/o who loves to cook would include~

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Viktor doesn’t seem like a very traditional person himself; he definitely seems to have more than a few rather “modern” viewpoints towards the world and so on, but something tells me that he grew up with a “traditional family unit” so your motherly attitude is almost …comforting in a way.

- You make him feel less homesick whenever he’s missing his family and your caring nature never fails to warm his heart.

- Viktor usually isn’t somebody that you have to worry about, the craziest situations he gets himself into are usually related to Quidditch or his occasional clumsiness so you generally don’t have to be in full mommy mode all the time. You’ll be able to relax without worrying about your boyfriend getting himself killed.

- But as I mentioned before, there are instances where you’ll be an inch away from having a heart attack, and most of them have to do with his Quidditch career. Viktor is extremely passionate about his role as seeker so expect to be holding your breath as he performs some death defying stunt to catch the snitch.

- You’ll usually smack his arm and scold him after a game when he’s done anything thats particularly dangerous. He’ll get a bit shy but he finds your little outbursts both funny and cute. It also just feels nice to know that you care so much.

- And obviously, you’ll insist on taking care of him after his games or whenever else he hurts himself: patching him up, fussing over him, etc.

- Solemnly helping him pack and making sure he has everything that he needs whenever he’s leaving for school or a game.

- Viktor definitely has a big appetite so expect him to always be more than happy to grab something that you’ve made or sit down and enjoy a meal with you.

- He could legitimately eat completely charred food and still find something good to say about it so feel free to experiment with what you make.

- He definitely “steals” ingredients while you’re cooking/baking and “sneaks” food while it’s still cooling; “ ” because he usually asks before taking them. You’re still not sure how he doesn’t brutally burn his mouth while eating food straight out of the oven.

- He’ll always be; at the very least, happy to keep you company and watch what you’re doing whenever you’re in the kitchen.

- I can see Viktor as being either fairly good at cooking or painfully clumsy and awful at it. So, you’ll either always have someone who can cut up your ingredients for you or help you out when you’re struggling with three different things at once, or you’ll have someone who’s not much help besides being an egg catcher for when they topple off the counter.

- He always insists on helping you whenever you manage to hurt yourself while in the kitchen, whether it’s bandaging or holding your hand under cold water. He’ll usually pull your hand up to press a quick kiss to your injury, flashing you a little smile to wipe the mopey look off your face.

- He always presses a kiss to your forehead and gives you a hug once he’s done, asking if you’re alright and offering to help you if you need it. He’ll probably insist on doing whatever it was that hurt you so that you can’t injure yourself again; even though he’s sure you’re perfectly capable. It never fails to make you laugh whenever he silently takes the knife from your hands, flashing you a teasing smile and beginning to take over.

- Viktor can be a bit of a dad friend himself so you really make the perfect couple; at least most of the time.

- Overall, he’s very fond of his loving little chef.

[disgruntledspacedad]

The Rules of Engagement (4/5)

part of the The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do. 

words: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, general trauma. 

a/n: unbeta’d. Yeah, I know - I can’t count. This is gonna be five chapters. 

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Murphy nearly bowls you over on his way down stairs, pulling up short when he sees you. 

“Shit!”

You glance down at yourself. Your clothes are rumpled and covered in ash and bile. You don’t even want to know what your face looks like. There’s rubble in your hair.

Murphy is still staring open-mouthed.

“The pharmacy below my apartment got bombed,” you explain hollowly. “I’m fine, I just need a shower.”

“You look like you need a hospital,” Murphy counters, eyeballing you with something akin to worry. “Fucking Christ, Ears, if Javi -”

You snap your eyes up at the mention of Javi. “Have you heard anything?”

For the first time since you’ve met him, Steve Murphy cracks a grin at you. “On his way home now.” He looks as relieved as you feel. “We got him.”

You manage to smirk back. “Good.”

“Congratulations, by the way. This one’s on you as much as anybody.”

“Thanks.” You sag against the side rail, trying to be subtle about it. Now that the adrenaline has worn off, your legs are shaking, and you think it’s only a matter of time before you fall over.

Murphy notices, because he reaches for your shoulder to steady you. “I really think-”

“No.” You cut him off forcefully, glaring at him with all the energy you have left. “No, Steve. I’m tired, that’s all.”

He sighs. Narrows his eyes. Frowns. “You’re bleeding.”

What?

Murphy gesturers to your temple with a finger that you have to stop yourself from flinching away from. “You’re bleeding, Ears,” he repeats, as if he’s expending a great amount of patience by pointing it out to you.

You reach up, wincing as you notice for the first time that your head hurts. When you draw your fingers back, they are coated in blood.

Murphy moves closer to get a better look.

“It’s just a scratch, Murph,” you tell him wearily. As far as you can tell, that’s true. There’s no gaping hole or giant gash, just a stinging little cut right at your hairline. “You know how head wounds are.”

He’s still glaring suspiciously at you, and you let him, meeting his gaze in silent challenge.

Eventually he sighs. “Okay, your funeral, I guess. Gimme a minute.”

Before you can retort, he ducks back inside, leaving you standing awkwardly on the front step. The walls are thin - you can hear him rummaging around in the kitchen. He’s back seconds later, key in one hand, a slip of paper in the other.

He hands you the paper first. “This is my pager number. Javi’ll be back soon, but I want you to contact me if anything crazy happens.” He motions to your head with his thumb.

“Okay,” you promise.

“And here’s this.” He presses the key into your hand.

You look up at him wide-eyed. “Murphy, you can’t just give me Peña’s key.”

“What, you think it would be any different if I stepped across the landing and did the honors for you? I’m already late.” He runs a hand through his hair with a huff. “Besides, he’d want you to have it.”

Somehow, you seriously doubt that.

Murphy fixes you with a stare. “Trust me.”

“Hardly,” you mutter, taking the key from his hand anyway. You hold it up for emphasis. “But you’re taking the fall for this one, alright?”

Murphy rolls his eyes. “I think I can live with that. Stay safe, Ears, and page me if you need anything.”

♠

You resist the urge to flop down on Javi’s sofa and sleep for a thousand years, instead making your way to the shower. Peeling away your dusty clothes feels so incredibly good. So does the hot water. You take your time, exploring the lingering aches and pains in your body as you scrub them with Javi’s little sliver of Irish Spring. Aside from a few bruises and that one little slice on your temple that won’t quit oozing, you’re not injured anywhere. You think you might be a little sore from being thrown backward tomorrow, and your lungs still feel funny and raw from having the air knocked from them, but otherwise, the bombing of your apartment is more inconvenient than anything.

You try very, very hard not to think about Emilio.

You step out of the shower only when the water runs tepid, the cold jarring you awake. Javi only has two towels, it seems - one left out to dry on the towel rack, the other crumpled in the corner with a pair of boxers. Nice. You opt for the one that’s on the rack, wiping yourself down then wrapping up your dripping hair.

There’s something deliciously deviant about sneaking naked through Javier Peña’s apartment when he’s not home. You shake away your guilt, trying hard not to be too weirded out or too turned on as you rifle through his dresser drawers. You’ve got to wear something.

Eventually, you come away with the green t-shirt and the only pair of sweats the man owns. You eye yourself in the mirror, considering. Javi’s clothes are ridiculous on you - you have to roll the sweats three times at the waist just to keep from tripping - but hell, at least you aren’t naked. Looks like that cut finally stopped bleeding, too.

Carefully, you pull your hair into a sloppy braid and gather your dirty clothes, doing a cursory sweep of the apartment to see if Javi has anything else that needs washing. Other than the little pile in the bathroom, you find a t-shirt and a pair of mis-matched socks in the corner by the nightstand. Not bad for a single guy living alone, you decide.

You make the trip downstairs to the communal laundry room quickly, noting the time on the kitchen clock when you return. You don’t feel like waiting beside the machine today. Flopping on the sofa has lost it’s appeal - you’re bone weary, but every time you close your eyes, you see fireballs and charred bodies.

Sleep is not on the agenda.

Sighing, you make your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, glancing at the clock for the umpteenth time. 9:42. You put the water on, then shuffle downstairs to switch the laundry to the dryer. 40 more minutes, and then you can get out of here.

And then what?

You examine your options and find that the list is short. You aren’t going to stay here any longer than necessary - you’ve intruded on Javi’s privacy enough. Your only friend in Colombia is Ana, and that’s off the table for obvious reasons. Murphy isn’t at home, and Connie had left for the States just weeks after you’d arrived. Back to work, then.

You decide that’s best anyway. Somebody fucking bombed your apartment. Well, the mark was probably Emilio’s drug store, but still. Bombings don’t happen in Bogotá - that’s a Medellín thing. Especially a civilian target.

The rush of anger that consumes you is staggering. Who did this, and why?  Bombing a business is a very Pablo Escobar thing to do, but a small pharmacy? In Bogotá?

Ana and her father are good people. You know deep in your bones that they aren’t involved in the drug trade. You also have major doubts that this was an accident. So, what the fuck?

The injustice of it all makes you feel small and cold and helpless.

You’re missing something big.

Javi doesn’t have a television in his apartment. Even if you did have access the news, the information that you’re seeking is hardly going to be broadcast on live television, and certainly not so soon.

Work really is the best option, then. Between the bombing and Verdugo’s arrest, the sicarios must be on red alert. Maybe you can pick up on some chatter. 

Besides, you probably need to let Stechner know about your situation as soon as possible.

You glance at the clock. 10:07.

Ugh. You rise up on your tiptoes, bouncing in frustration. Caffeine and adrenaline have made you jittery. There’s something really cringe-worthy, too, about being alone in Javi’s apartment without his knowledge, especially given the way things ended between you.

The memory chafes, and you shake your head hard enough that it throbs.

Goddamn this day.

A shrill beeping jerks you from your thoughts, and you barely manage to stifle a shriek. Your pager!  You’d forgotten all about it. Your stomach swoops as you pick it up.

The number that flits across the screen belongs to Javi.

You take a breath. Weird. Aside from that one brief conversation yesterday, you haven’t spoken to him in weeks. It probably has something to do with Verdugo, you decide. Maybe he wants to inform you personally. That would be nice of him. After all, this was a pretty big arrest for you, too.

You locate the phone in the kitchen, dialing the number with trembling fingers. Damned coffee.

“Peña.” His voice is terse, clipped.

“Got your page,” you say warily. He sounds like he’s in a mood. “Is there -”

“Where are you?” he demands, cutting you off harshly.

You blink, startled. Forget ‘a mood,’ Javi sounds fucking livid. You’d assumed he’d be pretty relaxed, considering. “Umm, I’m actually at your place,” you speak slowly to hide the shakiness of your voice. Fuck, of all the times to get emotional. “Listen, my apartment was bombed. I just needed -”

You’re interrupted again by a sharp sigh. “Stay there,” Javi grinds out, and then there’s nothing but dial tone.

Slowly, you place the phone back in its cradle, processing the conversation.

What. The. Fuck.  

Bits of plastic clatter to the floor as the pager smashes into the refrigerator - you’re hardly even aware of throwing it. You sink to the kitchen floor, cradling your head in your hands and doing your damnedest to just breathe.

It’s not fucking fair. He was the one who stormed out slamming doors. You haven’t pressed him, haven’t been a nuisance. Well, aside from basically breaking into his apartment and borrowing his shower.

But fucking hell, somebody - probably Pablo Escobar -  just bombed your fucking apartment. You’re living in a foreign country and you don’t even speak the fucking language. There’s nowhere for you to go, and your clothes were a mess, and goddamn, you are just tired.

What were you supposed to do?

Footsteps thunder up the stairs. God, that was quick. You manage to leap to your feet just as the front door slams open with a bang.

Javi stops dead when he sees you, and your tirade dies in your throat.

“Hey.” It’s awkward, but it’s all you can manage.

He’s just staring at you, standing stalk still in the open doorway. He’s breathing heavily, like he’s been running. His expression is tight, carefully closed off. One fist is clenched at his side, the other still gripping the doorknob.

“Murphy let me in,” you babble. You knew he was on his way, but still, his sudden appearance startled you. “My place, I mean, the drugstore -”

“I know.” He’s toneless, expressionless, frozen except for his eyes. They rove over your face and body, and you’re reminded suddenly of watching him read reports - quick, efficient, and exacting, like he’s taking in every detail in an instant.

Fuck. Heat rushes you as you remember that you’re still wearing his clothes. “Okay,” you breathe shakily, hardly aware of speaking aloud. This is getting weird, and you really don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with Javier Peña’s shit today.

Your laundry is probably dry anyway.

“Where are you going?” Javi demands, resting a hand on your shoulder as you attempt to push past him.

That does it. “To get the laundry!” you bite back, twisting away from his touch with a lot more drama than is really necessary. “My clothes are dry!”

He pulls away as if burned, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

You stand there like that for a long moment, just assessing each other. You’re glaring up at him warily, sizing him up, while he watches you with an expression that you don’t recognize.

“I’ll go,” he says softly. There’s something quiet, almost regretful in his tone, and it shatters your defenses. You bit your lip and nod shakily, and then he’s gone, descending down the stairs without another word.

Jesus.

You exhale another shaking breath - everything you do seems shaky, today - and pour another cup of coffee.

♠

You feel like you’ve got a little more control of yourself once you’re back in your own clothes. Javi is lighting a cigarette at the kitchen table when you exit the bathroom, a fresh butt still hot in the ashtray next to him.

“Rough night?” you ask, dropping his half-folded t-shirt and sweats onto the counter.

He huffs sarcastically.

You sigh. Your patience is wearing very, very thin, but you decide to try one more time, just for the hell of it. “Congratulations, by the way. Murphy told me about Verdugo.”

He blinks up at you, like you’ve pulled him from deep thought. “Yeah,” he says slowly, still staring at you with an intensity that’s starting to really freak you out. He pulls hard at the cigarette, and the moment breaks. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

You nod, suddenly tired.

He notices. “Ears?”

“I need to go back in,” you cut him off before he can ask whatever he was going to ask.

He frowns. “Didn’t you just leave this morning?”

Frazzled as you are, it doesn’t occur to you to ask how he knows that. “Yeah, Peña, I did,” you snap. “But then some fucker bombed my apartment, and I’ve got a nasty feeling that it has something to do with Pablo Escobar. I can’t go home, and I can’t get any sleep, so I might as well make myself useful and see if there’s anything worth listening to today.”

His gaze had drifted during your speech. He’s resting his jaw on his his palm, staring off into the middle distance.

Ugh.

“So, will you drive me, Peña, or am I calling a cab?”

“Sorry,” he says softly, breaking himself out of whatever stupor he’d been in. He stands and extends a hand like he might like to reach for you before deciding against it and grabbing his gun instead. “Of course I’ll drive you, if you feel like going in.” He catches your eye as he tucks the gun into his belt, serious now. “I really am sorry about your home, Ears.”

God. All Javier Peña has to do is throw you a tiny bone, and you fucking melt. The relief you feel is palpable. “Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes for a long second.

You hear him rustling around with keys. “Let’s go, then.”

♠

The car ride to headquarters is silent. Javi smokes three more cigarettes, tossing the butts out the open window before you even hit the parking lot, one after the other. You wonder what the fuck is going on with him.

He makes a point to let you out of the passenger side door, a little quirk that had been hit or miss before, depending on his mood. You walk together up the embassy steps, him hanging close to your shoulder but not quite touching you, and you wonder if this is his strange way of apologizing for the weirdness before.

You’re halfway to Stechner’s office when you realize that Javi is still following you. You arch a curious brow in his direction. He pointedly ignores it.

Okay, seriously. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” The question comes out a lot harsher than you intend, but hell, it’s been a terrible day.

He glances down at you, almost apologetic. “It can wait a minute.”

“Ears!”

Oh, fuck. Steve Murphy is running up the hallway, gaze zeroed in on you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He doesn’t wait for you to answer, just whirls on Javi. “Javi, what the fuck is she doing here?”

You bite the inside of your cheek in an effort to keep from screaming. “I’m trying to go do my job, Murphy, if the fucking DEA will let me.” Thankfully, your voice comes out pretty level.

Javi’s looking at Murphy with a narrowed gaze, head cocked, hands on hips. “What do you mean, Murphy?” he asks in a low voice.

Murphy throws his hands up in consternation. “I mean she should be in bed, or at a fucking hospital. You should have seen her this morning, Javi. Looked like she’d come straight from a war zone!”

Javi whips around to stare wide-eyed at you. “Wait. You didn’t say…” All of the color is draining from his face. “You were there?” 

Something about the breathlessness the words, like they’d been punched out of him, sends little shocks of electricity zinging across your skin. “I’m fine,” you manage. As protests go, it’s pretty weak.

“God, Ears, you’re still bleeding.” Goddamn Steve Murphy and his fucking preoccupation with your blood. “Now get out of here, please, before I call you an ambulance. Jesus.”

Javi’s face is a storm cloud of emotions as the pieces continue to click into place. “Ears,” he growls, more horrified than angry. He grips you carefully by the shoulders, looking you over again. This time, he brings his fingers gently to your temple. They come away bloody.

He sucks a sharp breath, glancing up at Murphy. “You’ll handle Verdugo?”

Murphy’s lips are pressed into a fine line. “Absolutely, Javi. Get her out of here.”

♠

He escorts you from the building with a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back. It would be sweet, if not for the blistering pace and the stony expression that’s frozen on his face. People take notice, leaping out of your way, craning their necks to watch as you storm by. By the time you reach the doors, your cheeks are flaming.

“Agent Peña!”

Oh shit. You hadn’t even noticed Martinez and his entourage milling around the entrance.

“Yeah?” Javi bites out.

Martinez raises a brow at the scene the two of you make - you, bleeding and shamefaced, Javi damned near parading you into the parking lot with all the subtly of a thunderclap.

God, there’s no way this ends well for either of you.

“Verdugo is in interrogation room three,” Martinzes says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Javi doesn’t even slow. “Stick Murphy on it,” he snaps over his shoulder. “I’m busy.”

Nobody dares argue with him.

♠

Instead of getting into the car, Javi leans heavily against the door.

You pause, opening your mouth to question him, but he reaches for your jaw before you can speak, carefully tilting your face up into the sunlight.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is soft, but he’s looking at you in undisguised concern, eyes roving over you with an intensity that tempts you to drop your gaze.

You shiver. You can’t help it - you’re exhausted and emotional, and things with Javi have been so weird for so long, and now he’s staring at you, sharp and worried, running his thumbs across your scalp to gently assess for injuries.

No, you are not okay.

He notices the little tremor that darts through your body and rests one hand on your shoulder, leaning in to look you straight in the eye. “How far were you from the explosion?”

“Across the street,” you tell him, breathless for all of the wrong reasons. It’s only half-way true, you’d been crossing the street when the bomb had gone off, far closer to the blast zone than you’re leading him to believe. But he’s so close, cupping your cheeks in his hands, leaning forward to shield you from the traffic-side of the parking spot with his body as he continues to draw his fingers across your skin, gently assessing for more damage.

“It just knocked me off my feet,” you continue. Your throat is suddenly so dry. “Startled me, more than anything.”

Javi reaches with one finger to expose the wound on your temple. It’s still oozing.

“And this?” he asks, pinning you with another piercing stare.

You reach up, catching his hand as his fingers begin to drift down your cheek. He twitches reflexively. “Just a little scratch,” you promise him. “Falling glass, or shrapnel, I guess. Something grazed me. I never hit my head.”

This is not a lie. You never blacked out; you’re not hurt.

He blusters a sigh, scrubbing his face with his palm for a brief second. “I should really take you to the hospital.” His jaw tightens as he speaks.

“I just said I didn’t hit my head. I’m fine.” You indicate the wound on your temple. “This is nothing. You know how head wounds like to bleed.” You look up at him, projecting as much wide-eyed, awake, vibrant woman as you possibly can after walking away from a fucking bomb, and squeeze his hand in reassurance. “Please, Peña. I just want to go -”

Home, you almost say.

You stop yourself just in time. There is no home, not anymore. And you won’t make the mistake of referencing Peña’s place as anything other than ‘Peña’s place.’ That would be supremely stupid, given all of the recent drama.

“To bed,” you manage instead. “I’m just tired.”

And god, that is the truth.

If Javi notices your faux pax, he doesn’t mention it. He’s hardly taken his eyes off you. He’s near enough that you can feel the heat of his skin, one hand still twined in yours.

It’s all you can do to avoid resting your head on his chest.

“Okay,” he mutters begrudgingly, and then shakes his head like he hadn’t meant to agree. “I’ll take you home.”

You smile wanly at him. “Thanks.”

♠

author’s notes/confessions

I know you still have questions. I promise you, I will answer them.

Steve Murphy is a good bro.

Y’all hit me up if you want a little Javi one-shot after this next chapter. I wrote it for my own reference, but it might be a fun read, if you’re wondering what’s happening inside his head right now.

@tiffdawg​, look what you made me do. ;)

[liighty]

Guzma babysitting Reader’s Niece

(A/N): BACK ON MY BULLSHIT AGAIN! BUT THIS TIME IT’S NOT ALL THAT SELF-INDULGENT AND MIGHT POSSIBLY BE TURNED INTO A SUPER FIC IF I FEEL LIKE IT

In all honesty i’ve thought about making another largeass super self-indulgent Guzma x Reader mega fic, but I’m not sure if I want to? I don’t know if anybody would read it, so that’s what this post is for!!! If you like this and want to see actual Guzma x Reader with plot and not just fluff drabbles lmk!! I have a bunch of asks to address so maybe i’ll get to that too soon

Anyways, back to the fic.

Mini Summary: (Y/N)’s niece needs to be babysat while (Y/N) is interviewed, so they turn to Guzma and crew to help out for a bit. Chaos ensues.

Rating/Triggers: UH drugs are mentioned but not really? THE KID DOES NOT DO DRUGS!!!! but yeah if that makes you uncomfy i’d be careful with it??\

Pairing: Guzma/Gender Neutral!Reader (I used the honorific ‘Titi’ which is gender neutral for ‘Tia’ or ‘Tio’ [extra thanks to Ocha_Bocha for helping me with that one <3] and tried to make it as gender neutral as possible. Originally this was written with a male reader, and then I went female, and ultimately attempted to eliminate gender completely. [Following the footsteps of Splatoon teehee])

Fic under cut!!!!!

"Are you sure this is a good idea, honey?" You clutch your niece's hand as you approach the large walls that separate Po Town from the rest of Ula'Ula Island. It's not that you don't trust the man who you're leaving her with- in fact, those two have been acquainted previously and seem to get along fairly well- It's his friends who you're concerned about.

"..." Her silence is expected, as the kid isn't all that talkative. Recognizing the young girl's silence, you frown. 

"You can stay in the office lounge if you really want to. I know you aren't the biggest fan of crowds, and um- Guz has some pretty loud friends-" Your explanation of what to be expected is quickly interrupted by a blue haired young man decked in black and white clothing. "Yo yo, what's with the kid?!" 

You arch a brow. You knew that Guzma worked with kids, but this guy couldn't be any older than 15! "I could say the same for you. I'm here to talk to Guzma-"

"Ya mean the boss? Why would some random chick want anything ta do with the leader of the Team Skull, huh?!"

A pink haired girl dressed in the same outfit walks up to the boy, crossing her arms. "Shut it, ya clod. Don't you remember the conversation we had with Boss yesterday?"

Hearing this, the blue haired boy's eyes light up in an epiphany. "Ohhhhh shit- Right-"

"Watch yer fuckin' language around the kiddo." She lightly smacks the back of Dansei's head. "She's in good hands, ma'am."

Another pink haired woman, this one being someone you finally recognize, walks in and smacks both of the delinquents in the head once more. "You say that after cussing, Reese?" 

Thank God. Plumeria. "Hey Plumes-" You smile weakly, waving politely with your free hand. Your niece does the same. Another young man, this one much shorter than the first and with green curly hair scrambles after Plumeria, jumping up and down to be seen. "Sorry about these numskulls. I'll lead y'all to the big boss man, yo. No worries at all, so you can chillax!"

I'm regretting this more and more by the second.

The crew starts whistling some hip hop tune as they make their way to the Shady House, the smaller boy beatboxing. You've taken this time to offer a piggyback ride to your niece, who's politely declined. Are all kids like this? Or is it just her?

Once they approach the boss, Guzma immediately jumps out of his chair, his signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "Eyyyyyy! (Y/N)!!! Kiddo!! What's up, homeslice?!" He hops down the stairs and crouches so he can get at eye-level with the young girl, offering his fist for a pound-it.

She bumps her fist against his, smiling just a bit. It's more of a reaction than you expected, at least. "S-sup, Uncle Guzma-" 

Looks like his slang is rubbing off on her. That's cute.

"Thanks for droppin' by, Doll. No need to worry about Little Miss Troublemaker over here, I got it all under control." He picks up your niece and walks over to you, pressing a looooooooongass smooch on your cheek. The other Team Skull members all make mini comments, like "Ewwww-", "Grosss-", and "Cooties-", causing Plumeria to once again smack their heads together. 

You roll your eyes, unable to stop the smirk on your face from growing any further. "Not in front of the kids, Guz." "Ah, right, right- My bad." His shades slide onto his face, hiding the bright red blush that had crept onto his cheeks. "Well, you should probably get goin', ey? The Aether Foundation's one lucky company to have you interviewin' for a position."

"Dork." You boop his nose, then your niece's. "Call me if you need me, okay honey? I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Okay, Titi (Y/N)-" You smile at the nickname while the others snicker. 'Titi' sounds an awful lot like 'Tittie', and considering three of the 7 people in the room are immature teenagers, there's definitely some laughing going on in the background. Plumeria looks very tired. How does she deal with these kids all the time?

"Alright, I'll be back. Don't light anything on fire, okay?" You yell as you walk off, feeling a slight hint of unease at the idea of leaving your young niece with so many delinquents, even if it's just for a few hours. It'll be fine, though. Guzma's there to keep them from doing anything stupid.

You laugh at the thought. Who am I kidding? He's probably gonna be the one who explodes something first.

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

The interview itself wasn't all that bad. You're fairly certain that you either aced it or put yourself up for consideration, which in itself helped your confidence just a bit. With the absence of Lusamine and the arrest of several of her chairmen, the foundation was very antsy and in need of someone who could handle the Pokemon Observation department. With your background in medicine and PR, you were rationally on the list of potential replacements, and despite your initial resistance, learning that the company would be run by somebody that WASN'T the manipulative little bitch Lusamine gave you enough comfort to accept the offer for the interview. Was it just an offer or an invitation? You weren't quite sure, but Wick was very insistent on you showing up.

Either way, you're pretty certain you got the job. Good on you. 

You can't help but wonder how your niece is doing, surrounded by so many troublemakers. As you make your way to the entrance of the Shady House, you can hear loud music, causing you to feel a small tint of anxiety. She'll be fine.

You walk up to the door and creak it open, the smell of burnt… whatever the fuck that is flooding your nostrils. Of course. They lit something on fire.

"Guz??" You call out to the empty room. "Plumes? Anybody home?" As expected, there's no response. You start to feel more and more anxious the more ground you start to cover. Where are they? Peeking your head around the corridor, your anxiety comes to its peak when-

"And that's why you should never do drugs, aight?"

H-Huh?

Your niece sits on Guzma's knee as he bounces it up and down, his signature shit-eating grin plastered on his face like usual. Awfully burnt cookies sit on the table, explaining the smell from earlier, and Plumeria seems to be asleep with the other team skull grunts. Are they… napping? Seems like it. 

She nods enthusiastically, taking a bite of a charred cookie and grimacing shortly after, causing the two to both laugh in unison.

"Doesn't matter if it's just for recreational purposes, you could still get hooked, and that's the last thing we want!" Grinning once again, Guzma pokes her forehead.

Hypocrite. You're reminded of the first time you two had kissed, which happened to be shortly after you both had blazed a couple of joints. It's enough to get you laughing, though.

"Huh?! What're you doing here so early? Don't tell me ya flunked THAT bad!" Guzma's eyes widen, a genuine look of bewilderment painted on his face.

"I did not flunk! I think I did great!" You huff, crossing your arms defiantly. "It's suuuuuuuper comforting that you thought I failed, Guz."

"Nononono I was joking!! Right, kiddo??" Your niece quickly nods. "See???? No harm, no foul!"

Arching a brow, you walk up to the two and pick up the young girl. "Mhmmm. Did you have fun, honey?"

She nods again, unable to contain the grin on her face. "Uncle Guzma told me about his Pokemon training! And I got to ride on Golisopod's back!" 

The large bug type pokemon bops up and down upon hearing its name, prompting a smirk from Guzma. "Yeah, I told ya I'd take care of her. She's welcome back anytime, okay?"

"Thanks, Guz." You peck his cheek, and your niece sticks her tongue out, closing her eyes. 

"Icky cooties!!" Where the hell did she hear that? The only people you can think of who'd say such a thing are in the other room snoozing, so- Yeah, actually, you know exactly who taught her that word.

"Well, I'm gonna getchu with my cooties! And my tickles!" You raise a hand menacingly, wiggling your fingers with one eye closed. She immediately curls up, not out of fear, but out of excitement. It's nice to see her so happy again.

After a very long tickle session, you quickly glance at the large grandfather clock, noting the short hand of the clock slowly approaching the number 8. Shit. "We gotta go, kiddo. Your dad isn't gonna be all that happy if we get home any later than 8:30. Besides, it's past your bedtime."

"I bet Uncle Guzma stays up past his bedtime-" She yawns. "Can we stay for a little longer?"

How can I say no to that face? You find yourself incredibly conflicted. Do you tell her you have to leave anyways? Or do you stay and risk getting in trouble by your brother-in-law?

"Eh, as much as I'd love to have you over for longer, kiddo- Look at your Titi (Y/N). They look exhausted."

You smile gratefully at the comment, glad that it doesn't have to be you to tell your niece to go home. "Yeah, I'm beat. We can hang out some other time, okay? I promise." You pat her head and get ready to leave.

"Aww… okay. Bye, Uncle Guzma!! Bye Golisopod!" She holds your hand, and the two of you eventually walk your way back to the car. As you drive away, one thing lingers in your head. You can't think of anything else, in all honesty.

Guzma's great with kids. I should've expected as much, but… I'm glad he gets along with my family.

Your stomach rumbles at the intersection. I'd kill for some malasadas right about now- 

Okay, maybe you CAN think of something else.

[fairymermaidfloor]

the little mermaid pt. 1

❁ featuring —> xiao x gn!mer!reader 🎐:;

❁ warnings —none 🎐:;

❁ notes —> first writing post woo!! i hope y’all enjoy and sorry if this is bad omg, also I made xiaos s/o have a prettyyyy decent personality for a char?? I could have still worked on it, but I didn’t (;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) anyways hope this was good!! And I’ll try and make a part twoooo 🎐:;

part 2 || part 3

You were in your human form when Xiao first saw you, and to take it lightly, you were stared at. A lot.

You weren’t used to your legs.. so you just walked all wobbly and weird, every step you took could have ended with you falling face first into the road.

Xiao didn’t want to do anything with you. But you just so happened to get into the Washu Inn.

Verr Goldet asked Xiao to look over you, because obviously, she was worried for you..

Xiao recutanly did so.

“Hey. You. What are you doing?”

He isn’t the nicest. But, he was also wary of you. You look completely different from anybody here. And you might even turn out to be apart of the Fatui.. after all they came here not long after you. He could not allow somebody to wreak havoc any longer.

“Oh.. uhh.. walking? Or at least.. trying too.. first time in a while..” you answered sheepishly.

Odd. He continued the enquiries. “And what business do you have?”

“Um… nothing much.. I’m looking for my sisters.. and something else..” You tried to peer away from he’s pernicious gaze.

Xiao then started to become more blunt. “Are you with the Fatui?”

“Uh- no?? Who’s that??” You were getting even more fretful, and annoyed.

It went silent for a while and before you could speak up, he did. “Great. Then I’m done here.” And just like that the gaze was gone and so would he.

Xiao turned to leave until he heard your voice again.

“Hey wait!!” You tugged at his long sleeve, quickly getting a glare yet again. You felt a shiver down your spine, but you tried to fix your posture. “Now you answer me. Who are you and why are you questioning me?”

He continued to glare at you once more, “Xiao. And I’m just here to check up on you-“

“Meaning small?”

“What.”

“Your name. Xi-“

“Don’t. Say it.”

“I was just gonna say your name! Not your height or anything!”

“I didn’t say you were gonna mention my HEIGHT.” He pulled away he’s sleeve.

“Well.. sorry.. but your it is indeed quite iron-“

“Tch. Shut up you Mortal.”

“... Mortal!?!?”

“Yes. You mortals are getting even more and more nee-“

You snapped. How can this guy just come up and dare to try and insult you! And even ASSUME. “H-How dare you!! I am NOT a mere mortal!! I’m one of the most powerful hydromancy mages in history!! My sisters are uhh… ohh..” You quieted down

“...”

“... uhh..”

“Who are you exactly?” He was piercing dangers at you.

“I am.. a mermaid adepti.. Y/N, and my sisters are Sonnet, and Canon. And those are the only adepti I know,, but I’m guessing you're one as well?”

“... Yes.”

You were immediately intrigued, you never met another adepti besides your family! You kept on pestering and pestering him, no matter how scary he may seem, you were just so very excited..

In the end, Xiao ended up helping you, because he’s one of the only ones who knows he's way all around Liyue, and you desperately need the help.

They couldn’t find your sisters, but you found clues that they may be in Inazuma or Fontaine.

Despite how bratty, arrogant, and stubborn you can be.. you're actually fairly nice, thoughtful, and expetenatiolly loyal. He liked that in you. And even.. more than liking you as a friend.

He fell in love with you

At first he denied it, he doubted you were merely a dream. A hallucination. But all the times when the sun went down, and half-awake you sang to him that oceanic melody. Or how you blubbered at him to be more attentive and nice to others because saying that idiotic reason that ‘they are your people too’. Or when your bombastic plans kept getting them in trouble which made the nations eyes glance at them. It was not a dream. But a wish came true.

You made he’s heartbeat, a rhythm that he had never felt before.

Like a rock stopping down a lake.. and then falling deeper, and deeper, in to the water that was his heart.

And for a few minutes, the karmic bind became loose threads dancing with the wind.

You were crossing over to Sumeru on a boat, after a few people told you guys how the oldest sister was staying there to do some business.

“Hey so.. Xiao..” You were in where your mermaid form.. swimming next to a boat that Xiao was occupied in.

“Yes?” He looked over at you, with a much different tone he’s eyes put on when you first met him.

“I feel like I’m being pretty dishonest to you..”

He’s heart stopped. Oh no. Would you be gone? Did you betray him? What’s going on. “What is it.” The tone of his eyes changed again.

“I haven’t actually told you the truth..” Ashamed, you turned your head and tried to face him. “I didn’t tell you why I’m looking for them…”

He looked over at you, confused. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well.. to be honest I’m not so sure, but, this necklace is a curse.” You touched that suffocating thing. “I can’t take it off, and I need my sisters to. Because well, if I or somebody falls in love with me, or just.. KISSES me, either them, or me, are forever doomed for damnation. And I..” Tears streamed through your face, tears of anguish. “I love you Xiao!! So PLEASE, if this doesn’t work then you’ll have to leave.. far.. far, away..”

He’s eyes widened. What. “You're cursed. WHY!?”

“Wish I can tell you.” You sighed. “If I tell you, you’ll get in trouble. And even than I don’t exactly know half of it.. and I just.. I want you to be safe.”

“Even if your stuck with a curse, I’m still gonna be by your side.”

You blinked. “What!? No!! That’s st-“

“Well I’m cursed too. Didn't I tell you that? Tch. For somebody who bickers a lot you don’t listen.” He sighed. “I stole the lives of people, and held a hand at eons of suffering, I bring calamity to those who are close to me. But you still decided to stick by my side, and besides… I..” He turned away. “I love you too..” He’s words barely even counted as a whisper, and not even a hum.

“Ah.. AAAAAA-” You screamed of astonishment, and fainted, sinking into the ocean floor.

“Y/N..? Y/N!?!!”

[serendipitous-magic]

Luke and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad 72 Hours

Imagine you’re a 19 year old working on a farm, and one day you buy some new animals from traveling merchants to help out around the farm - let’s say a goat and an ostrich. You’re cleaning them and getting them ready to work when you notice that the goat has a message tied around its neck. It sounds like the message might be intended for the kooky old guy who lives by himself out in the wilderness. You’ve met the guy a few times, you might even consider him a friend, but he’s mostly a mystery. You ask your uncle if he knows anything about it, but first he denies any knowledge and then he says the intended recipient of the message knew your dead father, and then he abruptly tells you to forget all about it.

Okay, weird???

That night, the goat runs away. The ostrich is freaking out about it. You go after it with the ostrich the next morning and find it making its way towards the old hermit’s house, but you’re attacked by a local gang and knocked tf out. When you wake up, the old hermit is there, and he takes you back to his place and drops the bomb on you that apparently your dead dad wasn’t who your family told you he was?? Apparently he wasn’t a navigator on a fishing boat, he was a pilot and a samurai warrior, and he was fucking murked by his samurai buddy??? And while that earth-shattering revelation is still fresh in your mind, Hermit Dude reads the rest of the Goat Message. Apparently it’s from a princess, and she’s asking Hermit Dude for help in a massive civil war that’s been going on. She says this goat is a Very Important Goat, and it’s carrying information that’s essential to the war effort that could restore prosperity to the entire world.

Hermit Dude then immediately sits back, looks you in the eye and without preamble says, “You’re going to have to learn how to be a samurai warrior if you’re gonna come with me to the big city and help this chick and save the war effort.” And you’re like “??? learn?? to be a samurai?? Big city?? What in the frick frack paddywack are you babbling about? Listen dude I got shit to do, I can’t just go off on this wild goat chase. But look, if it means so much to you I’ll give you a lift to the nearest town so you can go on your own.”

But on the way to town, you come across those traveling merchants you bought the goat and ostrich from - all dead, their caravan trashed. “This wasn’t the gang,” Hermit Dude says, “The government did this, and made it look like it was gang activity. They were looking for your Goat Message.” You race back home, only to find the smoldering remains of your farm, and the charred skeletons of your family laid out on the doorstep.

With nothing to do, nowhere else to call home, and a newfound revenge-driven fury in your chest, you return to Hermit Dude and say, “Make me a samurai like my apparently-murdered father, yo-yo master Hermit Dude. I’ll go help the war effort with you like the princess asked.”

So you all head off to this shady-ass small town run by crime lords. The government is already there, looking for the goat, and Hermit Dude hypnotizes these two military guys like it’s no big deal, sooooo apparently he can just do that? Okay, neat, neat, neat. Hermit Dude then chops somebody’s fucking arm off right in front of you in a bar fight (what the fuck), and long story short you end up selling your car so you can hitch a clandestine ride to the Big City in this fast-talking cowboy’s RV, which looks like it’s held together with spit and duct tape. Cowboy Guy’s best friend is this 7-foot-tall dude with so much hair and beard that he could probably hide weapons in it. The military arrives and you barely make it out of the parking garage, and you end up in a fucking car chase before you make it to the highway and get the hell outta dodge.

BUT THEN you finally arrive at the Big City, and it’s gone. There’s nothing there, just the ruined wasteland of nuclear rubble where the government dropped the bomb (which by the way was JUST invented). And as far as you know that’s??? Never happened before?? So, that’s terrifying. (Also keep in mind your home was razed and your family was brutally murdered like less than 24 hours ago so THAT’S still fresh.)

There’s one little government truck that sees you and takes off. Cowboy is like “Let’s shoot their tires out before they go report to somebody,” but there isn’t anybody around to report to. EXCEPT FOR THE CITY-SIZED BATTLE STATION ON WHEELS THAT ABDUCTS YOU, RV AND ALL. What the fuck is this? Since when did this exist??? They pull the RV into their parking garage, but you hide under the floor panels, surprise-attack some soldiers and steal their uniforms. You sneak into a control room, hoping to shut down the station’s power and escape, but while Hermit Dude goes to cut some power cords, you notice some records lying around. And, hey, what’s this? The princess that wrote the Goat Message? She’s here on Massive Battle Station? SCHEDULED TO BE EXECUTED??? Well, of course you can’t let that happen! Cowboy is grumpy about it but you manage to convince him.

Using your military disguises, you manage to find and save the princess from her cell, almost get crushed to death in a trash compactor while escaping from the prison section, and arrive back at the parking garage pursued by hordes of soldiers - only to witness Hermit Dude, your only remaining link to your home and your old life, get sliced in actual half right in front of you. 

There’s another one for Trauma Bingo!

(P.S. you’ve also now killed several government soldiers in your escape. You’ve now killed people. You’re a killer.)

You manage to escape in the Duct Tape RV with Cowboy, Beard, Princess, Ostrich and Goat, but you’re followed by some government cars. You climb up on the roof to engage in an at-speed shootout with them, because after the last 36 hours, this is the least weird thing you’ve done. Firefight with government forces? Yeah, sure, what the hell. No big deal, honestly.

So now not only are you family-less and homeless, but you’re DEFINITELY on some sort of government list of known criminals. Guess there’s no going back now; you’re part of the rebels whether you want to be or not! Thankfully you’ve still got that grief-driven justice quest going on, doubly compounded by witnessing the murder of your mentor.

The RV makes it to the secret base where the rebels have been hiding. The Very Important Goat is finally delivered, and it coughs up plans for the gigantic battle station. So far, so good. Except, curses! The government tracked you here! Looks like the fight happens now. Game on, jackass government. Game on. “That’s impossible!” cries one pilot, to which you reply, “Nah, I basically did it all the time back home.” You sign up to fight: a pilot, like your dead samurai dad. 

Why was a 19 year old civilian with some bush-plane experience (??) allowed to sign up to fly a fighter plane? We’ll never know.

Also, the goat comes on the plane with you.

Cowboy collects his payment and takes off, which you’re not happy about, but at least you’re reunited with your BFF from back home. So at least you have one single connection to home left.

Until he dies. RIP.

You try blowing up the Enormous Battle Station the normal way, but the disembodied spirit of Hermit Dude appears in your head and tells you to use your Magical Samurai Powers. You do, and succeed in blowing up the Big-Ass Battle Station just as Cowboy arrives again to take out the Big Baddie who killed Hermit Dude. The Traveling Nuke Factory is destroyed, the evil government has taken a big blow, and you get a shiny medal in a ceremony with your new friends.

So, let’s recap. In the last, oh, 2.5 days or so, you’ve gone from living your everyday life to seeing everything you know and love destroyed, to becoming a traitor to the evil government and a rebel, to fighting in (and winning) an intense military battle thanks to your fledgling Magic Powers, to now being the poster child of the rebellion.

You need therapy.

But at least the goat’s okay.

[tarklesbehindthescenes]

If you've got the time and inclination, I've got another MegaRatch request for you, maybe related to the one from before. Megan does something really dumb on the battlefield and gets hurt and due to some contrivance, Ratchet begrudgingly patches him up.

It is DONE!! It took me sooo long to figure out what direction I wanted to take it, but it is done!

MegaRatch 2: Electric Boogaloo

Word count capped at 2,172

-

Ratchet squinted up at the grey warlord belting out hearty, maniacal laughter. The smug spawn of a glitch was at it again. Another absurd plan was being put in motion that would allow the Decepticons to gather energy at the expense of the planet and its inhabitants’ safety. And as always, he was gloating about it while the Autobots fought against his forces to put a stop to it. As the fight progressed, it was becoming increasingly apparent that it was only a matter of time before Optimus Prime got to him and wrecked his creation.

Megatron began fiddling with the controls which caused a violent crackling of electricity to erupt from it, frightening his in-commands and making the rest of his army pause to look over, the Autobots they were fighting doing like-wise.

“Actions: inadvisable! Requesting Megatron desist!” Soundwave called out to him desperately.

“Do you wish to blow us all to kingdom come?!” Starscream shrieked, scrambling back with panic. “It’s too soon, you’ll—”

“I do not need it to finish in order to gain the power necessary to defeat the Autobots!” Megatron roared over the crackling electricity as he placed his hands on a couple orbs. Electrical currents began flowing from the machine into Megatron. “I will not let this victory escape us!”

“I’m not staying! Decepticons, flee!” Starscream took off in a hurry, the seekers following his example and taking to the air hot on his thrusters. Soundwave turned to the remaining forces as they looked like they were seriously considering doing the same.

“Wait! Hold positions!” he commanded. His words fell on faulty audio receptors, however. Astrotrain and Reflector booked it and that was the end of that. The other Decepticons bailed, leaving Megatron and Soundwave alone with the Autobots.

“Cowards!” Megatron bellowed after them, removing his hands from the machine, energy crackling around them. “You will all suffer the consequences of deserting the battlefield!”

“Prime, I think that’s our cue to go!” Wheeljack called.

Optimus Prime took a small step backward but kept his gaze locked on the warmonger. “Everyone, get back! We don’t know what he can do!”

Megatron raised his arms above his head, focusing the electrical energy in his hands and narrowing his optics as the Autobots began to pull back. “It’s too late to run, Prime! Your doom is nigh at hand!”

Ratchet eyed the electricity coursing through Megatron’s hands. That was big talk coming from someone wielding such unstable energy. If he could just distract him for long enough... “Megatron!” the medic barked out.

The warmonger’s optics snapped to him then a smirk curled up on his lips. “Ratchet,” he mused. “It would be such a shame to lay waste to such medical skills like yours. I will give you a choice. Join me or perish with your team!”

“Do you realize just how absurd this plan is?” Ratchet evaded. Megatron took the bait and went into a mini-monologue. “What is absurd about it? With you Autobots offline, there will be nothing standing in the way of total domination of this planet so I can bleed it dry!” He ended with a laugh. Behind him, Soundwave noticed the energy growing more and more unstable in his commander’s hands and began backing up. Once Megatron was done having a laugh, he narrowed his optics at the medic. “Now choose!”

“Ratchet—” Optimus started, stopping himself when Ratchet motioned for him to back off and reluctantly doing as directed.

“Give me a moment to think!” he snapped at the warlord.

“Now!” Megatron demanded, the crackling of energy nearly drowning him out.

“Fine, fine!” Ratchet threw a quick glance at Soundwave. The communications officer was reluctantly running for cover. “I choose…” The medibot swiftly turned on his heel and booked it with the rest of his team.

Behind them, the warmonger snarled. “You have chosen most unwisely! Taste the consequences of your—”

The rest of the threat was cut off as there was the loud sound of electricity discharging and screams of pain followed shortly after. It was so darn bright in the area for a few minutes that it was nigh impossible to see clearly until the light settled down to normal levels. The group of Autobots mumbled to each other and looked around.

“Is everyone all right?” Prime checked, giving each mech a glance over. “Ratchet?”

The medibot waved a dismissive hand. “I’m okay.”

“That was some quick thinking back there,” the leader praised.

Ironhide fixed the ambulance with a confuddled expression. “Just why was that bucket o’ bolts tellin’ ya to join ‘im?”

To which, Ratchet responded with an exasperated huff. “Because he’s a fan of my work? Drop it.”

Sunstreaker looked to where they had come from. Megatron could be seen on the ground, a small cloud of smoke rising from him. “He charred himself but good, it seems.” The Lambo twin screwed up his face with mild disgust. “Phew, you can smell it!”

“I think it’s safe to say he won’t be getting up for a while or finishing that scheme of his,” Optimus agreed, gesturing to the machine behind the downed Decepticon commander. “That electrical outburst fried his creation. Autobots, let’s roll for home.”

The Autobots took the command and promptly transformed to begin following Prime back home. Ratchet transformed, but paused as he caught sight of Soundwave checking up on Megatron through his rearview mirrors.

“Hey, doc. You coming?” Trailbreaker said, cutting through his thoughts.

“I just remembered I’ve got some business to take care of,” Ratchet replied. “You go on ahead. I’ll be back when I’m done.”

If Trailbreaker could shrug in vehicle mode, Ratchet was sure he would have during the pause before the dark-colored car left. Once he was out of sight, the medibot returned to robot mode and approached Soundwave and the unconscious Megatron. It was almost a struggle to move forward. A big part of him screamed to just leave with the others and let Megatron and the other Decepticons deal with the consequences themselves. But the part of him that made him take up his profession as a medibot scolded that part of him and was forcing him forward.

Soundwave took notice of him and pointed his blaster at him when Ratchet drew close.

Ratchet fixed him with a stern look. “Put that peashooter away! I’m a medic, not a warrior.” Without waiting for Soundwave’s next move, he knelt down beside Megatron and looked him over. The smoke was coming from Megatron’s mouth and seeping out of cracks in his plating. Ratchet shook his head. “He should’ve listened to you.”

The third-in-command hesitated before putting his weapon away. “Vitals indicate he is still online,” he reported.

“No doubt a good chunk of his hardware is fried, though,” Ratchet grunted. His examination of the Decepticon commander led him to find that Megatron’s state, while not ideal, was stable enough that he didn’t need a patch. “Can you carry him?”

“Affirmative.”

“Good. He needs to be brought back to your ship so we can actually tend to him.” The sound of flight frames approaching made them pause and look up. Blitzwing and Astrotrain had returned and touched down just beside them. “And look. Here’s our ride.”

The two triple changers frowned, Blitzwing with confusion and Astrotrain with disdain.

“Your ride, Autobot? We only came to check up on Megatron and see the results.” Astrotrain eyed Megatron with judgement. “Looks to me like he’s ultimately failed.”

Soundwave picked up the commander and glowered at the shuttle train behind his visor. “Transform. NOW,” he commanded.

Astrotrain looked to Blitzwing.

His friend cocked an optic ridge at him. “What are you looking at me for? Soundwave’s our superior. And you don’t want to mess with Ratchet, trust me.” Blitzwing reminded, making the shuttle train sigh heavily before doing as told and transforming into shuttle mode.

Soundwave entered him with Ratchet close behind and settled down, then they were off. The ride was short thanks to Astrotrain’s size and speed. When they arrived in the hangar, they found the seekers gathered with a few of the other Decepticons, recounting the events that went down. Starscream was, of course, blowing things out of proportion.

“—drove him to such rash actions! He turned himself into a living bomb just to get the advantage over the Autobots! I tried to warn him against it, but he was so livid, he just could not be reasoned with!”

…Actually, that was fairly accurate.

“Kind of you to come back to base instead of check up on him,” Ratchet called out, making the second-in-command and those gathered around turn to him and Soundwave.

Starscream didn’t have the decency to look remotely abashed. “Somebody had to relay the events. Besides, Soundwave—” The seeker paused and squinted. “Now wait just one moment here! What the frag are you doing in our base?!”

“Ratchet will be lending his aid toward Megatron’s recovery.” Soundwave gave Starscream a challenging look, daring him to intervene.

The air commander didn’t, but he certainly didn’t approve. He shot Megatron a loathing and disappointed look. “You mean to tell me he’s still alive?”

“Don’t sound so thrilled, Starscream,” Ratchet commented. “We’ll get the wrong idea about you.”

Starscream scoffed and shrugged. “Naturally, I am enthused about this turn of events. How lucky we are to be bequeathed with such a miracle.”

Several bots in the room rolled their optics, including Ratchet. “Alright, alright,” the medibot grunted, “that’s enough back and forth. Someone tell Hook to get his aft to the medbay if he isn’t there already. This is going to be a repair all three of us will be needed for, Soundwave.”

“Understood.”

[Perspective Change]

Megatron’s vision was dark for a moment, save for the flashing word ‘rebooting’. He felt stiff and a little cold. What had happened to land him like this? He had the Autobots on the run, and then… the energy in his hands exploded. His team of Decepticons had left him. Was he still on the ground where the battle had taken place? …No, this didn’t feel like it.

His systems finished rebooting, now granting him sight and audio. The medbay ceiling greeted his optics and the sound of bots working and talking out of sight came to his audio receptors.

“—impressive, honestly. The amount of burns on his motherboard and these hydraulics. Yet the electrical damage jumped over the main power nodes on the board, which is what kept him stable.”

Megatron squinted. That voice… “Ratchet?” he murmured.

There was the sound of movement and then there he was, looking down on him. “Look who’s finally up. You know, you really should listen to your in-commands next time,” the medibot chided. “They’re usually there to keep you from doing stupid things.”

Megatron disregarded the chastisement. “What are you… You’re… here…” he mumbled with utmost confusion.

Ratchet folded his arms. “Against my better judgement.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a medic and…” He hesitated. “I decide who my patients are. Leaving you the way you were just felt… wrong. I don’t understand it fully, myself, so just take it and be grateful I even took the time out of my day to work on your sorry aft.”

The Decepticon commander struggled for a moment to process this. The Autobot chief medic actually helped him of his own volition? Was he expecting anything? He must’ve been. “I am not going to stop attacking your friends,” he stated gruffly.

To which Ratchet rolled his optics at him. “Did I say anything about them?”

“No, but surely you’re not doing this favor for free.”

“And why shouldn’t I be?”

“It makes no sense!” Megatron sat up to better lock optics with him. “Nobody does something unless commanded or bribed!”

Ratchet shook his head. “You’ve got a skewed perspective of reality. All I want is to be dropped back off on the surface so I can go back to the Ark. You seem to be perfectly fine now and don’t need me.”

“Wait just one moment,” Megatron said, looking over to where Ratchet came from, to where Soundwave and Hook stood patiently. “Leave us.” Hook left without a second thought, while Soundwave hesitated before slowly taking his leave. Once the medbay was clear of everyone but himself and Ratchet, the commander spoke up again. “Stay a while longer,” he bade with an unusually quiet tone. This medibot was a puzzle. An enigma. Megatron wasn’t about to just let this go without getting as much facts as he could.

The Autobot fixed him with a squint. “What for?”

“Just to talk.”

“…That’s it?”

“That’s all. I have questions that need addressing,” the warlord clarified.

There was a pause, and then the medic sighed and dropped his arms to his sides. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Just long enough to be certain you’re on the road to recovery.”

This time Megatron would settle his curiosity about the Autobot ambulance once and for all. This time for sure the intrigue would be satisfied.

[actress4him]

Overexposure - Punishment

(Prompt #3 for Whump of July)

I haven’t been in a writing mood much lately. Then suddenly last night, I realized writing wasn’t the issue, the issue was that everything I was working on or had planned was angst, and as much as I like angst, I was in the mood to beat the crap out of somebody. Ellery seemed like a good candidate. Sorry Ellery (but not really). This also happened to line up with today’s Whump of July prompt!

Taglist: @inky-whump , @michelleswhumpyreblogs Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: lady whumpee (male whumper), creepy/intimate whumper, restraints, gag, claustrophobia, broken ribs, mild blood, torture, graphic burns, mild gore, mild emeto, mild dehumanization

.

.

He hadn’t even bothered to uncuff her or remove the gag. What seemed like hours had passed inside that tiny, dark closet, curled up uncomfortably on the floor with bottles and broom handles pressing into her from all sides and waiting for Lucas to come back for her. When he had finally appeared, he had yanked her up and herded her out to his car, popping the trunk and shoving her inside. It was terrifying. Not only because she’d never been locked in a trunk before, but because she knew he was still furious at her. Whatever she was headed back to, it was going to be bad.

Now they’re back at his house, she’s out of the trunk, but by the way he’s dragging her by the arm through the halls she almost wishes she was back in it. He opens the door to the basement and maneuvers her until she’s in front, still propelling her forward despite the fact that she’s fighting not to stumble in her one heel and one bare foot.

One moment his grip is leaving finger-shaped bruises in her skin. The next moment she’s pitching forward and his hand is gone. Ellery only has a split second to panic before she’s hitting the stairs, hard, pain shooting up through her hip, but then she’s flipping and tumbling and sliding and it’s all just a blur of falling and hurt until she comes to an abrupt halt by slamming into the concrete floor at the bottom. 

Then she screams through her gag.

Everything hurts. Whatever meager healing her ribs had been able to manage has been completely undone, her whole side is on fire. It’s very possible that there are even more broken ones now than before. Her stomach hurts, her arms hurt, her legs hurt, she’s pretty sure she caught her foot on a step at some point because her ankle really, actually feels twisted now. Something is making the side of her head feel warm, and it’s doubtful it’s anything good.

Lucas drops into a crouch next to her, looking her body up and down before settling his gaze on her face. “You’re incredibly lucky that I was able to come up with a convincing lie tonight, Princess. But a breakdown like that, in public, can’t ever happen again. Once, I can make them buy anything. Twice, it’s gonna be a lot harder. Which means I’ve gotta make sure that you remember your lesson tonight.”

She nods, vigorously, despite the stabbing pain in her temple at the motion. Yes, yes, I’ve learned my lesson, please… but Lucas isn’t even watching her. He’s already stood and moved away to the shelving unit, browsing to see what kind of torture tool he can find. 

“Ooh! Haven’t tried this yet.”

The phrase makes her heart stop beating without even knowing what he’s referring to. But when he turns and strides back toward her with a candle lighter held proudly in his hand, it kicks into double time. 

No no no no, please, don’t, please no… It all comes out as a pathetic series of grunts and moans as she kicks against the floor, trying and failing to move away from him. Lucas straddles her, still standing and holding that lighter, and reaches down to flip her over by her arm. There’s suddenly far too much air hitting her bare back. Ellery sobs, still futilely pulling at the cuffs as if she can somehow escape her fate. 

She’s not at all prepared for the flame to hit her skin. She’s been burned before, of course she has, she likes to cook and burns come along with that. But those were quick. Accidental. The brief touch of a finger to a pot fresh off the stove, the bump of an arm against an oven door. 

Lucas flicks on the lighter, brings it up to her shoulder blade, and holds it there. Holds it while she screams and cries, while her skin begins to bubble and char. Sits down on her legs to keep her still so she can’t squirm away from him.

“Fascinating.” He leans in closer, studying the mess he’s made. Ellery has to assume that the lighter is turned off now, but she can’t feel it. Her shoulder hurts just as much now as it did a few seconds ago, and the smell of burnt flesh makes her retch.

“I’ve never gotten to watch something like that before. You know, I’ve never been much of a drawing, painting type of artist, but I bet…”

The lighter turns back on. She knows for sure now, because it drags across her back, slowly, leaving a scorched line behind it. The only good news is that it draws her mind away from the pain of the first burn. Without being fully aware that she’s doing it, she tries again to pull away. It’s instinctual. Something is hurting her, and her body wants to escape. But Lucas just uses his free hand to press her shoulder down into the concrete, and continues the waving motions over her back. Between the tears and the pain, she can’t see straight, can’t even think. All she can do is sob and choke out broken off wails and pray that it will end soon.

It doesn’t.

Nearly every inch of her back has been burned by the time Lucas finally gets off of her. He even yanked at and ripped the dress at one point to get to more skin. She’s not sure how she’s still conscious. She wishes she wasn’t.

Standing, Lucas stretches, cracks his knuckles, and admires his work. “Hm. Not necessarily professional quality, but not half-bad, I’d say. Can’t wait to see how it looks tomorrow, or when it scars. Gonna make some interesting photos, that’s for sure.” He yawns, stretches again. “I’m beat tonight, though. Come on, Princess.”

He leans down and grabs her by the arm again, actually being slightly patient as she struggles to get up now that he’s got the anger out of his system. Every movement, no matter how small, sends burning waves rippling across her back, and more tears slipping down her cheeks. Guiding her back into her cell, he finally unlocks the cuffs, though bringing her arms around to the front makes her dizzy with pain. 

“Be good in the morning and maybe I’ll get you some cream for those. Don’t wanna do it too soon, though, ‘cause I wanna make sure they scar good.”

The door closes and locks, and Ellery sinks slowly, stiffly, onto her bed, trembling all over, his words echoing in her head. She’d been naïve to think that she’d get out of this place without any scars.

Maybe she’s naïve to think she’ll get out of here at all.

For the longest time she just sits there on the edge of the bed, consumed by the pain, unable to make herself move. It feels like it’s burning through her core, eating away at her insides, that soon she’ll be able to look down and see the front of her dress bursting into flames. She’s never felt so much pain at once in her life. 

Eventually, she convinces one arm to lift, to gently, slowly tug off the glove on her sleeveless arm that hid her broken finger. It hurts, but she does it. Lifting both arms to remove the necklace hurts worse, but she does it, too. When she tries to stand, though, desperately needing a drink of water from the sink in the corner, it’s too much. She falls immediately back to her knees and loses the meager contents of her stomach. 

The combined pain from her back and broken ribs is finally enough to send her over the edge and into blissful unconsciousness.

It’s not until the next day, when she’s able to glance over her shoulder at her reflection upstairs while she’s prepped for photos, that she sees fully what he did to her. Angry, raised red lines cover her back in an intricate, swirling pattern. Like she’s a canvas. An object, simply there to decorate and be decorated. It’s the way Lucas has always treated her. 

And maybe he’s right. Maybe that’s all she really is.

[duxpuella]

Deja Vu

<Atention: Modern AU where Neil lives, and Welton’s a boys & girls school.

Warnings: Knarlie, Chameron, mainly Angst and a tad of comedy; >

Note: Knox is already dating Chris;

Plot: charlie singing deja vu by olivia rodrigo really hard and no one knows why he's so addicted to this song (it's knox, it's knox with chris);

Neil: "Look Charlie, they are dating for awhile already and you've been miserable.... I'm worried, really."

Charlie: "I will get over it.... Just need to be dramatic first."

-

Charlie later that day: *proceeds to listen to Olivia Rodrigo's entire album WHILE SINGING* Cameron: "I swear to God that if i listen to Deja Vu one more time I'm switching dorms with Neil." Charlie: "mAYBE I'M TOO EMOTIONAL OR MAYBE YOU NEVER CARE AT ALL"

-later that same say-

Knox: *proceeds to simp*

Charlie: "Good for you, I guess."

Neil: "I-"

Cameron: "Fuc-"

Knox: "What is wrong with you? Really, you've been an asshole lately and I have no idea w-"

Charlie: "You did nothing, but that's the problem Knoxious..." *walks away*

Everyone but Neil and Todd: *???????????*

Neil and Todd: *look at each other*

Neil: "I'll go."

Neil: "Char-"

Charlie: "wAt?"

Neil: "Are you cryi- Wait, listen... Do you want to talk about it?"

Charlie: "What there is to say really? Yes I'm being an asshole and that's on a fucking heartbreak. I wish I could be happy for him, I really wanted to but I can't. I'm jealous, angry and I cannot deal with his loverboy ass right now."

-later on Charlie and Cameron's dorm room-

Charlie: *still listening to SOUR*

Cameron: *enters the room and looks at Charlie suffering (and singing) on his (Cameron's) bed*

Also Cameron: *inhales very deeply intended to not lose calmness* "Charlie you're in my-"

Charlie: *proceeds to sing laughter (purposefully)*

Cameron: "That's it, I'm fucking done with your shit." *Turns off the song*

Charlie: "HEy I w-"

Cameron: "You were being immature AND unfair to Knox. If you were so in love, why didn't you took action first?"

Charlie: *😳* "I was afraid to ruin our friendship."

Cameron: *sits beside him* "That means you value his friendship a lot, right?"

Charlie: "Well, obv-"

Cameron: "That's what I thought. Stop being a dick then, I know it hurts when you see someone you love in love with someone else. I know, I've been there." *sight* "But it's not on your right to treat them badly for a rejection that didn't even happened. That's on you. You never even told Knox in the first place. So you better behave or else you'll end up losing him completely."

Charlie: "I- I'll, thank you."

Cameron: "You welcome, now get out of my bed. I had to deal with your bullshit all day and I need some sleep."

Charlie: "Sure." *goes to his own bed* "Who knew Dick had feelings huh."

Cameron: "Oh shut TF up."

Charlie: "Oka-" *gets assaulted with a pillow* "OkAy, geez."

-next day-

Neil: "So, are you better?"

Charlie: "Yeah, Cameron talked to me and called my bullshit out. I'll behave, I don't wanna lose him."

Neil: *👁️👄👁️* "Him who?"

Charlie: "Knox. Lose Knox. Who else could I've been talking about?" *???*

Neil: *nervous laugh* "YeAh, sorry... I'm a little inattentive today."

Charlie: "NOticEd."

-same time, different place-

Cameron: *listening to Nobody by Mitski on repeat for the 13th time*

Knox: "You look like hell Cam, what happened?"

Cameron: "uh, Oh, nothing.... I'm tired you know, finals week and I have your asses to save." *weak smile*

Knox: "Fair point. I'll let you rest then, have you seen Charlie?"

'And I don't want your pitty'

Knox: "I need to talk to him."

'I just want somebody near me'

Knox: "I need to figure it out what is happening,"

'Guess I'm a coward'

Knox: "He's not acting like his regular self you know....."

'I just want to feel alright'

Cameron: "I-" *sighs*

'And I know no one will save me'

Cameron: "I haven't actually."

'I just need someone to kiss'

Knox: "I see, I'll go look for him. Good rest for you!"

'Give me one good honest kiss'

Cameron: "Don't worry, he'll probably come apologize to you first. Also, thank you."

'And I'll be alright'

Knox: "Hope so! Bye Cam!!" *proceeds to leave*

'Nobody, nobody, nobody

Nobody, nobody...'

Hope you like it! I take requests by ask! (info on requests);

Also, you’ll find more of my writing here.

[helenofsimblr]

Narrator: For Kierston Sterling, the investigation was far from over. Scott’s death resonated still, and Nick Gould had just vanished apart from the odd phone call it was blatantly obvious his heart wasn’t in the investigation anymore either…

Kierston: Drinking your sorrows away Detective Morris?

Vince: I’m allowed, I’m off duty. Doesn’t the United Commission of Inquisitors allow their Agents to go off duty?

Kierston: We have down time, sure.

Vince: There we go then! Now, if you’ll excuse me… I’m not nearly drunk enough. Unless you want to drink too.

Kierston: I only drink at special occasions.

Vince: I bet you’re a hoot at parties Quizzer.

Kierston: I don’t get to go to parties much.

Vince: Didn’t need to be a detective to work that one out!

***

Kierston: I get it, you lost Barker, but we have to keep going for his sake Vince. If we quit now the scumbags win.

Vince: Nothing to do except quit honey. That Columbo wannabe was right… we’re outmatched. No, we’re fucked.

Kierston: We have a job to do Detective. Wallowing here in self pity over losing Barker isn’t going to help. I liked Scott he was a good guy but we need to track down this Judith and find out what the hell she knows and get some answers.

Vince: Going after Judith… I used to think about running her down and locking her ass away for the rest of her life… But she always wriggles out of it. That girl’s like a godsdamned cockroach.

Kierston: So what we just let her get away?

Morris took a big glug of his beer.

Vince: Maybe we should. It might be for the best.

***

Kierston: I can’t believe you.

Vince: You should believe me Quizzer… I went and told Beattie that Scott was found dead, she didn’t give a fuck. I tried to stop this. I tried to tell him that Judith was bad fucking news and it didn’t work!

Kierston: You can’t just tell a man not to see somebody like that. In my experience you men when you get set on something, nothing dissuades you.

Vince: Yeah, well Scott’s charred fucking remains, looks pretty fucking dissuaded to me.

Kierston: I’m sorry for the loss of your friend Morris. I truly am. But we are law enforcement, if we just roll over and let the bad guys win, then what’s the point of us? We all may as well resign and then everybody can do what they like. There has to be rules, and when the rules are broken we enforce them Morris. That’s how it goes.

Vince: You ever think that maybe we are trying to bring law to the lawless Agent Sterling huh? Sounds like a fools errand to me.

Kierston: Gods you’re a very miserable drunk aren’t you?