#oh well click to see the full resolution you know the deal

[inthememetime]

If Wes count, Wes 🤦

Wes gets a taste of his own medicine by dealing with a Karen. 😹 (The call center names and individuals names have been changed, but this is STRONGLY based on a true story from my years as a call center agent.) Here's the link to play!

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Wes' parents were fine with buying his first (and second) camera. They were fine with paying for the photography lessons (which kept him from stalking observing Danny). They were even fine buying him a (used) ghost-proofed laptop from their neighbor who could no longer use it, on account of being a ghost.

They drew the line at a car. Which he needed, because Fenton was starting to branch out, and if he could get proof, nobody would think he was crazy anymore, and-

Well. Moot point. If he wanted a car of any kind, he had to do the same thing his brother did- cough up half up front, and have a steady job that paid enough for gas, registration, and insurance.

It was, admittedly, a more than fair deal. As long as they didn't have to pay more than $3,000 total, they were fine with whatever car he wanted to buy.

The GAV II from the Fentons cost considerably more than he could afford, but there was a scratched-up used Jeep with offroad tires for sale, which would work. And that led him here: Sunrise Telecom.

Sunrise was a callcenter in what was, decades ago, a large train warehouse. It also didn't care that he was 'that crazy stalker kid'- as long as he did his job well and made sales, nobody gave a damn.

He clocked in, sat down, and opened up the sites he needed. Immediately, the phone beeped with an incoming call. "Thank you for calling Custom Plates, your home for all plate customization needs. This is Wesley speaking on a recorded line, how can I help you?'

"Hi, is this where you order vibrators?"

The- what- what?!?!? "No sir, we customize license plates and sell accessories like bumper stickers and plate frames."

"Oh. Wrong number, sorry."

"That's ok, we get it all the time. Can I interest you in-" Click. Sadly enough, they did get that all the time, though it was Wes' first time hearing it.

The phone beeped again after he added notes and dispositioned. "Thank you for calling Custom Pla-"

"I want to speak with a manager!"

Ah. One of those.

"Okay, ma'am, I'll see what I can do. For now, can you please tell me what's going on? It's company policy to-"

"I don't care! I want to speak with a manager, you little moron!"

He scribbled his manager's name on a small whiteboard amd held it up as the woman started telling him exactly what was wrong with his generation. It was taken from him and returned, with 'she's @ lunch' on the bottom. Oh no.

"Ma'am, I'm sorry but my manager is in a meeting and won't be available for at least an hour. Is this something I could help you with? I can pull up your order for you and see what is going on."

"You stole my money!"

He raised an eyebrow. "If you'll provide me an order number, I'll be happy to give you the status of your order. If something has been delayed further than the originally estimated date, we can offer a partial refund. I do also need to let you know this is a recorded line," he offered.

She hissed, and he fought a giggle. Did she really think that was scary? He was from Amity Park. "I want a full refund, now!"

"We're only able to offer that in specific conditions, and l'll have to look up your order first."

"Let me talk to your manager, you little pissant," she snapped.

He raised the sign again. This time, it was returned with a frowny face. "I'm sorry, ma'am, she is still in that meeting. Is there something I can help you with?" Damn that one-call-resolution company policy!

She shouted and hung up. Finally. He muted himself and started taking notes to disposition.

Beep! Beep!

"Hi, thank you for calling-"

"I swear to God I will sue you if you give me the run around like that last kid."

Wes put his head in his hands. "Hello ma'am, this is Wesley on a recorded line. Our manager is currently busy, but I'll be happy to help you! Can I have your order number please?"

After 5 minutes (he counted) of complaints, she finally provided it. "Thank you, and who am I speaking with?"

"What?"

"I have to confirm the name on the order before I can discuss anything due to privacy laws."

"Karen. Schmidt." The words sounded ground out, but matched the order.

"Thank you, Ms. Schmidt. I'm showing your order was delivered on October 1st, and you signed for it. Was there something wrong with the order?"

"You can't see that!"

Not a denial, he noted. "I am looking at it now, ma'am. Is your address still 718 Crossgrove, Apartment C6, Paulson, Illinois?"

"Yes," she agreed after a moment. "But I didn't sign for it!"

"I can send a ticket to your local post office and make sure nobody signed for you," he said, "and it should take 2-3 business days to hear back. After that, we'll be able to-"

"The plates are broken," she said, and finally they were getting somewhere!

"I'm sorry to hear that! Can you please describe the damage, and if they were already damaged when you opened the box?"

"They've got this black box around them, and you can't see the whole design," she said, "and I'm not paying for broken ones."

Black box? Wait. "Is it shiny, and does it feel rubbery? The black stuff?"

"Yes, it's wrong!'

"Right. So that's just the protective covering. It protects the edges of the plates from damage and cracking. All you have to do is pull it off, and-"

"I'm the customer, you should do that for me!"

Was she asking him to drive an hour away? To unwrap her 'Best Grandma' plate?

"Unfortunately, we're not allowed to do that due to the risk of the edges breaking during shipping. However, it's easy to do, just-"

"Are you saying I'm stupid?!"

"No ma'am, I'm just providing instru-"

"I hope you get fired!"

How mad would they be if he just hung up?

She continued to rant, and he finally interrupted. "Ma'am, on the back there's a tab that says pull here. Just pull it."

She spluttered unhappily. "So?! It came off, I still want my refund!"

"Right. So go ahead and ship it back, we'll send you a label. Once we get the plate back, we can process a 50% refund since it isn't actually broken."

"But I want the plate."

Before he could stop himself, his patience long gone, he snapped, "that's not how Capitalism works. Send it today, we can get up to 50% back. Keep the plate for longer than 10 days, no refund. Keep in mind, it's already been 9."

She spat filth at him and hung up. He took notes and dispositioned.

His manager walked in. "Hey, did I miss anything?"

Wes groaned. Was that what he sounded like to Danny and his friends? An idiot who wouldn't listen to anything?

Beep! Beep!

"Hi, thank you for calling Custom Plates, your home for all plate customization needs. This is Wesley speaking on a recorded line, how can I help you?"

"Do you allow cusswords? I want one that says 'Go fuck yourself, cheating asshole."

"Afraid not, but we can leave a space and you can write in the missing letter."

If he survived today, he was going to be so. Much. Nicer.

[cumbergirl]

Order and Chaos- Chapter Four

chapter three

The cerimony was brief, and neither did you or Wanda felt any differentely. You still fear Aghata and her tricks, that was pretty much all the same. But you trusted Stephen with the spell, so that gave you peace for now.

-I'm sorry, Steph...What?- Y/N asks in confusion, coming back to earth, not understanding one word of what the wizard had just said.

-Wong says that someone is in the Sanctum. We have to go. Now.- He says creating a portal, and you follow him with Wanda and Aghata right behind you.

-Who is it?- Stephen asks Wong while entering the hall. Looking around.

-Well...-Wong doesn't get to finish his sentence as a black haired guy with a mischiveous smile cuts him. He looks handsome in fine clothes and a fancy posture.

-Oh, hello. You must be the wizard.

And then it clicked in your brain. Loki. The god of mischief. Thor's, the avenger, brother. The guy who tried to destroy the city of New York a decade ago.

-You got to be kiding me. So Banner was right after all. You holding control of the tesseract was going to mess the time line up.- Stephen says with a annoyed expression.

-How did you came back to this timeline, Loki?- Wanda asks.

-Through you, of course.

-What?- she asks back, frowning.

-What do you mean what? You're a nexus being, at least thats what they've told me.

-A what?- Wanda looks clueless.

-You really have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?- Loki looks surprised.

-Ok...please...Loki. Explain to us.- You cut him, getting impacient. And recieve a flitartious look, what makes Stephen annoyed.

-In resolution...after I got the tesseract, I end up in some time company. They are basicaly the people who take care of the time in our reality, keeping the "sacred time line" untouched and "safe". They couldn't send me to my timeline again, since Steve Rogers had already solved the problem. Therefore, they wanted to send me back to this one, but without the tesseract. They didn't want another infinity stone out of place, so they destroyed it. Thats when Wanda displayed a considerable amout of caos magic, leaving the patch open so I could be pushed here.

-So what are you doing this time? Destroying Europe?- Stephen asks.

-No...thats not necessary. You see, I just need a little favor. I've been trying to find my brother, Thor, for over a year. I need you help, please, I need to...ask something of him.

-Great, deal. You're a god, I assume you will be helpful. But let me be clear, if you step one toe out of line, you wont get a third chance,

-What? Strange, you can't possibily be considering trusting this guy. He is not the Loki that gave his life to help save the universe.- Wanda looks at Stephen. And you notice Loki's sad smile as he looks down.

-I don't expect you to...understand me. I just need to see my brother, I'll do whatever it takes.

-He is not lying.- You sudenly say.

-How do you know that?- Wanda turns to you.

-He is looking for a sense of purpose, forgiveness.- You answer back, looking into Loki's eyes, what seems to disturb Stephen- Take a look, Wanda. You'll sense it.

-You can't know that he is now deceiving you. I can not see enything- Wanda tries to explain, but Aghata cuts her off.

-He couldn't deceive her. That would be, lets say...naturally impossible.

-What do you mean by that?- Stephen asks in confusion.

-You'll see... in the right moment. I can't lie to her...can I? But, as for now, I have another explanation to give, for now.- Aghata says, putting her hands together and taking a deep breath.

-Well, you're finally saying something, so go ahead.- You answer annoyed.

-Yes, that fight in Westville made it possible to Loki pass through a reality to another. But also, that amount of chaos magic...it woke something up. A power that none of you have ever seen. A power that feeds on chaos.

The room felt silent. It was like the realization had hit everyone at once. A universe with no infinity stones. A messed up time line. A powerful witch full of chaos magic. They were standing over a full plate of delicious snacks to a unknown monster. And they were the main course.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You | Part 4

Genre: Smut, angst, and some fluff this time

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary:  It has come to this. After your landlord kicks you out, you’re at Chan’s mercy. Turns out, he might not be as bad as you thought he was.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, thigh riding, really unheathly dynamics

A/N: this part is like the opposite of a tootsie roll soft on the outside hard on the inside

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

“This is just for a short while.” You say, swallowing the bile that has risen up in your throat as you look at the smug wolf sitting in front of you on his couch.

“Sure.” He shrugs nonchalant, but the cocky arch of his brow says otherwise and you have to squash down your pride with everything you’ve got not to jump on him. Like it or not, you’re at his mercy now that your landlord has officially evicted you. Without his gracious help, you’d now be on the streets. “I’ll find another place as soon as I can.”

“You can take all the time you need.” He opens his arms wide, going for a welcoming vibe but the stupid grin on his face counteracts it.

“No. I’ll be out of here soon.” You deadpan, not wanting to owe him more than you already do. God knows he’ll hold his over your head forever.  "And I don't feel comfortable living here for free so from now on until I leave, I'll be taking care of things around the house."

“Oh, how domestic.” He chirps sweetly.

"More like a live-in maid." You mutter under your breath but he easily hears it, the stupid grin finally dropping from his face as he sits forward and looks at you sincerely. "Don't say that. I meant what I said. You’re here as a friend."

"Yeah, sure." You snort. “You’re basically high from gloating.”

A smile tickles his lips again as he leans back. “I always enjoy the chance to one-up you, but that doesn’t mean I’m lying.”

“Wow, you really are a saint.” You jeer, grabbing your bag and heading towards the room that is to be yours.  

_________________

To your great surprise, living with Chan was actually kind of nice. Aside from the obvious perk of living in such a comfortable, beautiful house that had everything you could ever need. Chan himself was proving himself to be a quiet congenial roommate. Most importantly, he left you the hell alone for the most part, staying cooped up in his studio the majority of the day so that you barely even saw him. And despite your agreement that you’d take care of things around the house, he still did most of his things himself, picking up after himself and washing his clothes before you got the chance to. He fed himself too as indicated by the boxes of takeout from every possible fast food place filling out the trash. So you were barely wasting any time on taking care of the house, and spending most of your days following up on your studies like you so sorely needed. 

All in all, this whole arrangement was working out positively in your favor. Too positively, that you have to wonder what he was getting out of this. He can’t possibly really be doing this out of the goodness of his heart, especially since no one is even aware of this kind deed for him to gain any morality points off of it. He hasn’t even made a move on you for the whole three weeks you’d been here, seeming content to just coexist with you that you were starting to feel like you were taking advantage of him somehow. Even though this whole thing was his idea. 

Maybe that, your momentary self-doubt, is what prompted you to do what you did next. 

“Hmm, something smells nice.” Chan remarks, walking into the kitchen where you were making yourself some food. He stands behind you to take a look at what you were cooking, and you feel your heart skipping a beat at the now familiar scent of him filling your nostrils and his body being so close to you. And when he speaks, his voice deep and calm next to your ear, it makes your skin tingle. “Looks tasty too.” 

And like a teenager who had the great fortune of being noticed by the popular jock, you twist your head around to look at him, dewy-eyed as the words stumble out of your mouth before you can think them over. “Would you like to have dinner with me today?”

He pauses, looking at you curiously and you turn back to the food and continue nervously, “I mean, that junk food you eat everyday can’t be good for you.” 

“Aw, are you worried about me?” He asks cheekily, and your shoulders tense. “Never mind.” 

“No, no, I’ll have dinner with you.” He rushes to say, plopping down on a seat resolutely. “No take backsies.”

“Idiot.” You mutter, finding yourself wearing an involuntary smile because of him once again.

__________________________________ 

You’re not the best cook, you’ll be the first to admit it, but Chan praises your food like you are a world class chef. 

“Fuck off, Chan. It’s not that good.” You protest awkwardly, not really used to being complimented. But he insists, mouth full of food, “It is! It’s sublime.” 

You look down at your food to avoid eye contact with him and put on your best snooty voice. “Poor thing. Your habit of eating exclusively junk food must’ve ruined your palate to the point where you think my cooking is anything but decent.” 

“You sell yourself short. These hands--” He suddenly grabs your hands suddenly, startling you as he kisses them. “They’re magic.” 

You yank them back to your lap, flustered, the adrenaline pushing your poor fluttering heart into overdrive and making you panic. You quickly grab your fork and shove some food into your mouth trying to distract yourself from the conflicting emotions clashing in your chest, and regretting it almost immediately as your nausea swells up. 

“Is that how you woo prey?” You snark, taking a big gulp of your wine to wash down the piece of food you barely chewed. “Blatantly lie to them about their cooking skills?” 

The atmosphere fully changes as Chan drops his cheery attitude.  “Can we not talk about… that? It’s just you and me here. We don’t have to let the outside world in, do we?”

You still, your sense of danger rising up exponentially at his suggestion, and once again you find yourself wondering why he was doing this. What was his endgame here? Was he just messing with you? He puts on an honorable performance but you’ve seen him slip before. It must get tiring for him. Maybe he wants to see you hurt; it’s in his nature and he’s been repressing it for so long. You’d be the perfect victim too. No one even knows you’re here, and even if they did, they’d never believe your word over his. 

Or he could be genuine. Maybe he’s as nice as he tries to be. But that just scares you more, because how do you deal with that? You’ve never had a relationship with someone that was open and trusting. You’ve always hid behind your games. They kept you safe. No one has ever truly hurt you because you’ve never allowed someone to get close enough. But if you trust Chan, if you let him in and he betrays you… you don’t know how you’d even recover from that. 

You want to believe though. Everyone always says how much of a good person he is, how loyal, how selfless, how supportive. They can’t all be blind, right? And you’ve seen it too, in the way he always strived to protect his friends from you. He wanted the best for them. Maybe he could want the best for you too.

“Okay.” You answer in a small voice, heart pounding. 

His answering smile is bright and big, but it does nothing to assuage your fears so you settle for taking another sip of your wine. That’s what it’s made for, right?

“So, what do you actually do? I never asked.” Chan makes conversation as he gets back to his food.

You clear your throat. “I’m a waitress.” 

“Oh, and… um, is that what you want to be doing?” He asks unsurely. 

You roll your eyes at him, feeling a little at ease at his naivety. “No. Nobody wants to work in the service industry. It’s basically slavery and all your costumers are either rude or crazy. I hate it.” 

He pauses, looking like he’s thinking very hard for a moment, before he asks, perplexed. “So why do you do it?”

“To eat?” 

“Oh. Right. Of course.” His ears turn red and it’s his turn to take a big gulp of his drink. “I’m, uh, apparently an idiot. Yes, people work to afford living. Of course.” 

“I guess you’ve never had to think about that.” You note, surprised that you don’t feel any bitterness as you say it. 

“No.” He stares at the food on his plate. “I’m sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for? It’s not your fault.”

“Yeah but--”

“But I don’t have money so you feel sorry having money in front of me?” You grin, tone light, and he smiles back, face flushed as he obviously chastises himself in his head. 

“So…” He starts again, and it’s a little endearing how nervous he is. “What do you really wanna do?” 

You regard him for a second, wondering if you should really cross that line and let him in. Well, here goes nothing. 

“I’m studying to be a doctor.” 

His jaw drops to the floor. “You?”

“Yeah, shocking right?” You quip, taking another sip from your glass.

“I mean, yeah.” You would take offense at his words if it weren’t for the--you begrudgingly admit--endearing confused frown on his face. “Isn’t that a traditionally prey profession? Don’t you get, like, weird looks or something?”

“Yeah.” You snort, feeling the bitterness rise to the surface. “I get more than just weird looks. People feel the need to tell me every moment of every day how I’ll never be a good doctor. How no one will trust a fox with their life. How I should just quit and get into business or law or whatever other profession that can use my no-doubt nefarious skills.”

“That sucks.” He says then immediately cringes at his lame comment.

“Yeah, no shit. And guess who says it the most? Prey hybrids.” 

A light bulb suddenly clicks above his head. “Is that why you dislike them? They’re really not all like that--”

You interrupt him sharply, already knowing where he was going with this. “They’re not like that to you because you’re powerful and rich and you could do whatever you want, but they’re ruthless to me. They’ve always been. So yeah excuse me if I don’t care too much for your prey apologism. It’s pretty infuriating actually.”

“I really think you should--”

“What about you?” You ask pointedly, clearly wanting to change the subject. “I mean, I know that you’re a producer. I suppose this is what you’ve always wanted to be doing.” 

“Ah, yes.” He coughs, straightening in his seat as he reels back from the change of topic. “I’ve loved it since I was an angsty teen listening to hip hop and pretending like I’m so cool and gangsta.” 

The thought of little rich boy Chan swearing it up and down and acting like a thug brings an involuntary and sincere laugh out of you. It doesn’t bother Chan though. If anything, he looks content to have made you laugh. 

“Did you…” He begins after your laughter dies down, fiddling with the stem of his glass as he looks at you from under his lashes, “Have you ever listened to any of my tracks?”

“No.” You scoff, the word coming out automatically. I mean, why would you? It’s not like you like the guy. 

His face falls at your flippant answer. “Ah. Of course.” He says flatly, bringing his glass to his mouth. 

You feel a pang of guilt in your chest. Logically, you know you have no reason to feel bad. You two were never on the best of terms and you have no obligation to listen to his songs. And yet, as you look at his crestfallen face, the guilt still eats at you. 

“How about you show me some after dinner?” You find yourself suggesting and his face immediately brightens up. “Yeah! I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He interjects quickly, even though he clearly wants you to. 

“I want to.” You say firmly, and he smiles. ___________________________________

“I’m a nice guy who just has a lot of money?” You wheeze, cracking up and face flushed from the intoxication. You were somehow on Chan’s lap as the night progressed from him showing you his proudest works to his most regrettable ones.

“I know. I know. What was I thinking, right?” He laughs along with you despite his obvious embarrassment. 

You lean in close to his face, humming, "I think it's endearing." You kiss him. 

"You just like embarrassing me." He protests weakly, mouth opening against your lips. 

“Guilty.” You pull away to take his shirt off. Caressing his exposed muscles, you grin, “Hmm...yummy.” 

He bursts out laughing, “You like it?”

You shrug, “It’s not what I usually go for but I can get used to it.” 

He scoffs at that, and pulls your own shirt over your head. Tugging your bra over your breasts, he cups them in his hands and murmurs against your skin, “Well, I don’t need to get used to these.” before his mouth latches onto them. He sucks marks onto the sensitive flesh while his hands grope and knead your breasts. 

Looking up at you, he pushes your breasts together and laps his tongue over the nipples. Your arousal spikes as your gaze locks with his challenging one, and you start rocking yourself over his thigh. 

"Fuck that's hot." He mumbles, lightly tugging on your nipple with his teeth as he pulls away, making you moan out and your hips swivel down to push your core harder against his thigh. 

"Wait, wait," He pulls you to your feet, and you whine, protesting the loss. 

“Hush, baby girl.” He soothes, yanking your pants down your legs along with your underwear before he slips his hand between your legs to drag a finger up your slit, hissing when he feels your wetness. "That's what I want." He groans, pulling you back down on his thigh and using his grip on your hips to make you move over his thigh again. "Want you to ruin my pants with your cum, baby girl. Show me how much you need me."

"But I don't need you." You retort, though your hips don’t slow down. 

“Are you sure about that, my little fox?” He flexes his thigh under you, pushing it up more against your core. 

“Uh-huh.” You breathe, squeezing your eyes shut and throwing your head back. He takes the opportunity to get back to sucking on your breasts, which only makes your movements more frantic. 

“Come on, baby, tell me how good I am and I’ll help you.” He gasps between kisses. You tug on his hair, almost bouncing on his thigh now. “Why don’t you beg for it, pup?”

“Unbelievable.” He growls, pulling your head down. “You’re still so prideful even as you hump my leg like bitch.” 

Whatever stinging remark you would’ve hurled at him is muffled against his lips as he pulls you into a hungry kiss. You let him push his tongue into your mouth, taking him in and caressing it with your own before you put your hands to his chest and push him back. 

“You really want it? Want me to say how good you are for me? How wet you make me?"

He nods eagerly. 

“What a sweet pup.” You praise, “Striving so hard to please me. You’re doing so well, baby. You’ll make me cum real soon.” 

“Do it, please. I wanna see what you look like cumming up close.” 

“Keep tensing your leg like that and you’ll have me cumming in no time, puppy.” You bite your lip, small but needy moans flowing out of you. “What a good boy you are, so good.” 

“Please,” He whispers, his hands helping you move faster on his thigh. “Please, please.”

“So close---ah---oh god, so close...baby!” You gasp, grabbing onto him tightly as you finally cum, the orgasm surprisingly potent. He beams up at you, soaking up every little moan and shudder you let out. “So pretty.”

Gradually, your panting breaths turn into airy giggles as you get down from your high. You give his lips a peck before your hands fall between you and starts pulling his dick out from his sweatpants. You grin against his lips, feeling giddy. "I can’t believe I’m gonna let you fuck me in your studio. How cliche.”

His answering chuckles are punctuated with little moans as you glide your hand up and down his hard dick. “If it--ahh-- makes you feel any better, t-this is the--ahh, yeah like that, baby-- the first time I fuck anyone here.” 

You giggles increase in pitch, “You’re so full of shit, Chan.”

“I’m serious.” He whines, leaning up into your touch as you swipe your palm over the leaking head of his cock. “This is kind of a... sacred place for me."

“Yeah, right.” You roll your eyes, “It can’t be that special if you’re here with me now.”

“It is.” He insists with a pout, and continues casually as if it was nothing, “Because you’re special.” 

Your hand stills on his cock, your face turning to stone as you try and make sense of what he just said.  He's messing with you. He has to be.

Fear and uncertainty makes your stomach churn and your skin loses all color, your face getting cold and sweaty as the bile rises up in your throat. You thought you could handle this but you can’t. You’re too much of a coward to risk it and your sense of self-preservation rears its deformed head once again. 

Standing up abruptly, you croak through your suddenly dry mouth,  "I think I’m gonna go. I need to lie down" 

Chan gets up too, not letting you go. "Oh, is everything okay? Are you sick?". 

"I’m fine. I’m just..." You explain weakly, wriggling yourself out of his grip as quickly as you can in your intoxicated state. "I gotta go."

“Hey, wait!” Chan calls after you, but doesn’t try to stop you. You hear him curse out just before you get out of earshot.

____________________

You wake up with a huge headache and an even bigger feeling of dread. The events of last night coming back like a bullet shot through your chest, and you’re even more confused now with the hangover shattering any hope of a coherent thought forming in your head. 

You stumble out of bed and head to the door, resolving to get some water and some painkiller so you’d maybe start to feel like your head wasn’t likely to explode at any moment. But as you slide the door open, you hear bickering voices just outside in the living room.

"Chan, what the hell are you doing man?" You hear a familiar voice ask but your brain is too scattered to pinpoint the owner of it right now. Luckily, you don’t need to as Chan speaks up in reply, "It's fine, Jisung. It’s all under control."

"No, it's not. Isn’t that what you used to tell me? That no matter how much she makes it seem like she cares, she could flip the table on me at any moment and that I shouldn’t trust her. That’s what you said!”

You quickly pick up that they’re talking about you despite how much you don’t want to believe it. But that’s the kind of language that has always been directed at you, there is no mistaking it. Yet, against all reason, you hope it’s not true. Or at least, you hope Chan would deny it. 

He doesn’t, of course. They never do.

“I know what I said!” 

“And? Do you trust her now?” Jisung asks incredulously. 

“Of course not.” Chan vehemently denies, the resoluteness in his voice piercing straight through your heart. 

Of course not. Of course he doesn’t trust you. What a ridiculous question.  

“Jisung is right, Chan.” A new voice adds and you focus on the sound of it, trying not to break down just yet. “You’re letting her sleep under your roof, man, and you didn’t even think to tell us. Has she been messing with your head?”

They are talking about you like you are some kind of monster, some wild beast that would pounce on you the second you turned your back to it. You’d find it amusing coming from anyone else, but not from Chan, because for once in your life you wanted to believe that someone could see you as something other than what the world thought you were. You blame yourself for this one. 

“My head is fine.” Chan retorts angrily, letting out a forced sigh. “I’m just.... She was in trouble and I had to help her.” 

“Oh, you had to?” The new guy interjects mockingly, “Tell me, would she have helped you if you were in her position?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Chan protests. 

“No, it’s not. She would’ve let you suffer and laughed about it. She’s bad news, man.” 

“I think you guys are being a little harsh.” Another voice speaks up, deeper than the rest. “Maybe she’s not as bad as you think. I’m sure Chan has a good reason for trusting her.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure his dick does.” Jisung scoffs, “You know, I can’t believe you’d do this after preaching to me for hours about how I need to stay away from her and how stupid I am for letting her get to me. But hey, I’m just a stupid squirrel hybrid, right?” 

You’ve heard enough. Pushing the door the rest of the way open, you plaster a smile on your face and step into the living room, the four boys’ head snapping around to look at you. 

“Chan, you didn’t tell me we had guests.” You ponder theatrically, ignoring Chan’s dismayed exclamation of your name. "Oh hey, Sungie. I knew you'd be back for more." You wink at him and he immediately ducks behind the dark-haired stranger. 

“Please go back to your room.” Chan asks, equal measure pale and tense.

“But aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” Your eyes flit over the three guys, stopping when you get to the blonde, freckled one. “Especially this one. What’s your name, pretty boy?”

The boy blushes at the unexpected flirtation but extends his hand out to you nonetheless. "I'm Felix." He greets you unexpectedly cheerily, and you’re even more surprised to find out that he’s the one with the deep voice.

But before you can take his hand, Chan steps between the two of you. 

"I need to talk to you." He grits, pulling you to your room and shutting the door behind you. “What are you doing?”

You shrug, feigning ignorance. “Saying hi to the guests?” 

“Now is not the time for your games.” Chan rakes his hand through his hair, stressed out, but you keep up your innocent facade and he sighs in defeat. “You know what? Just stay in your room until they leave and then we’ll talk.”

“No, we’ll talk now. Are you ashamed of me or something?" You wonder, cocking your head to the side. “I thought you said I was special to you? But apparently you say a lot of things.”

“Baby--”

“Why, Chan?” You finally let your facade drop, letting the full extent of your disappointment and sadness break through. “If you don’t want me here then why did you offer in the first place?”

“I do want you here. I just wasn’t planning on anyone finding out about this.”

You laugh in disdain, “How do you always know what to say, Chan?” 

“I’m sorry but you have to realize how bad this looks for me. I worked fucking hard to get to where I am today. There are so many people waiting for me to make the slightest mistake so they can watch me fall. And here you are… well, you don’t exactly have the best reputation. If people find out about us then--”

“Wow, you really are an angel, aren’t you?” You bite, venom lacing your every word.

He laughs cruelly. “Oh, yes, and the judgement comes out. You’re such a fucking hypocrite. You can judge everyone and treat them like shit, but as soon as someone does the same to you you’re suddenly the poor misunderstood victim that everyone bullies.”

You reel back at the harshness of his tone and words. He’s never spoken to you like that before, no matter how much he was upset at you. It was jarring. “Stop it.”  

“Why? It’s what you’re best at, darling.” He sneers, continuing to ruthlessly attack you. “You judged me before you even knew me and went about treating me like a feeble predator because that’s what you decided that I am. And now you want me to take responsibility for your actions and stand up for you when other people treat you the way you’ve been treating them? But here’s the thing, baby; maybe if you had actually been a decent person and treated others with respect, you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. Hell if you'd been a decent person, you wouldn't be having such a hard time anywhere, not with me, not with school, not--" 

"No, fuck you, chan. Don't you dare tell me this is all my fault. You know nothing about my life! I can't believe I actually--never mind.”

“No say it. You actually what? Liked me? Cared for me? Don’t make me laugh, fox. You don't give a shit about me. Every time I try to get close to you, you pull back like I make you sick. If it weren’t for me offering you a place to stay, you wouldn’t even be talking to me right now. You only care now because I have something to give you, but the second you’re done with me, you’ll throw me in the trash like you do everyone else. And I’m not going to sacrifice all that I’ve worked for to entertain you until you’re bored.”  

“You may be right. I may be as awful as you all say I am.” You smile, tears falling down your face. “But at least I'm honest with myself. You on the other hand? Under all your pretense, you're just as fucked up as I am. And one day, everyone will see you for how ugly you really are. ” 

_______________________________

A/N: sorry guys she (me) had to do it to you. leave your feedback uwu

[ragingbookdragon]

Black Jeans & Daphne Blue Still Make Me Think Of You

Jason Todd x M!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 2.4K Warnings: Mentions of Torture and Death, Explicit Language

Author's Note: Daphne Blue by The Band CAMINO has been my new favorite song. Enjoy! -Thorne

He knelt in front of the guy he had tied to the chair. Poor bastard. He thought. Always gotta make things so difficult. Reaching up, he slapped him across the face a couple times.

“Oi, wakey, wakey.” The guy startled awake, immediately whimpering behind the gag. “Oh, good morning sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?” The guy groaned and he chuckled, yanking down the strip of fabric. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I don’t know anything, Sentinel, I swear to God.”

Sentinel eyed him behind the mask. “You really wanna do this whole dance all over again?” he poked at one of the guy’s broken fingers. “You don’t have any more fingers to break. The next option is your toes.” He started to pull of the guy’s shoes.

“Wait! Wait!” he cried, trying to yank away. “Please don’t!”

“Tell me what I wanna know and your piggies can still go to the market,” he lazily retorted, letting go of his foot.

“But he’ll kill me!” he cried.

Sentinel stared at him. “I’m still wondering what makes you think I’m not gonna kill you too.” he deadpanned, pulling out a silver dagger.

The blade itself was fairly simply, not engraved or marked with extensive decorations of gold or ivory. No, frivolous things such as that were only meant for special and expensive weapons. This dagger had been created by someone with a decent amount of money. Meant to withstand against weathering and usage—it merely served a purpose.

“Look, I’ll make you a deal. You tell me where I can find Two-Face and I’ll kill you quickly. That’ll certainly save you a lot of pain and fear from having your boss dump you in a pool of acid,” he reasoned.

The thug choked on a sob and let his head loll back. “Alright! I’ll talk!”

“Wonderful,” Sentinel smiled. “Where’s Two-Face hiding out.”

“The old courthouse in Arkham City. It’s in the center of the city, you can’t miss it.”

“How many thugs does he have with him at all times?”

The guy’s face pinched. “I don’t know, he’s got a personal guard and the normal group too.”

“No shit,” Sentinel griped. “Numbers, jackass.”

“No more than ten for his personal, but he’s got about thirty normal.”

“Weapons?”

“Anything you can think of,” the thug answered. “Guns, knives, lead pipes, everything.”

Sentinel leaned back on his haunches, thinking for a moment. “Who’s Two-Face allied with at the moment?”

“I—” The guy’s mouth opened, then he snapped it shut.

“Oh, come on, do you need me to cut off a finger?”

“No, it’s—it’s just…”

“Just what?” Sentinel demanded.

“There was supposed to be a meeting tonight about discussing new gang territories,” the thug answered.

He paused and glared at him. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”

“You wanted to know about Two-Face only?”

“Where’s the meeting?”

“Penguin’s Iceberg Lounge.”

“Thanks.” Sentinel quipped and thrust the knife into the thug’s throat. His gasp turned into a gurgle as crimson poured down his neck and into his shirt before he ultimately slumped forward. He yanked the dagger out and wiped it on the guy’s pants before sheathing it and standing.

“Lovely,” he grunted. “Now I have to change plans.”

“You know,” someone said from above him. “Batman’s not going to be very happy about you coming into town and killing his punching bags.”

Sentinel whirled around and looked up, catching sight of a familiar Red Hood sitting rather comfortably on a metal beam, his head tipped in a cocky fashion.

He pressed a hand to his chest and dramatized, “Oh no, it’s the Red Hood!” He shut his eyes and groaned, “I admit it, I killed him. And I’ll consent to a full body search at your perusal, Red Hood.” When he didn’t hear a reply, he cracked an eye open and huffed, “You’re no fun, Nightwing usually plays along.”

Red Hood shifted and dropped to the ground, landing with a heavy thud. “What are you doing back in Gotham, Sentinel?”

“Are you asking me because you’re curious or because Batman told you?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“So, it’s because Batman told you.” he chuckled. “Since when did you become Batman’s errand boy? I thought you didn’t like him.”

“Just answer the question,” Red Hood sighed.

“Fine, fine,” Sentinel relented as he waved a hand. “Two-Face and I had a deal and he backed out of it, so now I’m trying to find him.”

The vigilante crossed his arms over his chest. “What was the deal?”

“Oh, you know, tamper with a few legal proceedings. The usual.”

“And what were you supposed to get in return?”

Sentinel scowled. “An obscene amount of money that he failed to deliver.” He started off towards the doors. “And I plan on getting what I’m owed.”

He could hear Red Hood following him. “Where are you going?”

“Our dearly deceased friend said Two-Face was attending a meeting at the Iceberg Lounge.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “If they’re discussing territory, I need to do reconnaissance in order to learn where Two-Face is gonna set back up.”

“Want some help?” Sentinel paused and turned back around, practically coming chest to chest with the much taller vigilante.

“What kind of help?” he questioned, testing the waters by toying with the zipper on Red Hood’s jacket. When the vigilante didn’t move, he tugged a little. “Your skill? Or another kindof help?”

“I’m willing to part with both,” Red Hood murmured, reaching up to hold Sentinel’s wrist. “So long as you promise not to kill Two-Face.”

He chuckled and pulled his arm away, turning to leave. “And on that note, I’ll do this on my own.”

“You’re gonna show up to the Iceberg Lounge like that?”

Sentinel turned around as he opened the door. “Of course not.” He winked. “I’m gonna go undercover.” And he was gone.

***

He smoothed the front of his black leather jacket and blue shirt as he stepped into the chilly nightclub; he was glad he actually decided to go with something warm. Lazily scanning the room, he caught sight of the full tables as well as the upper level where people were sitting and smoking expensive cigars. One particular set of doors caught his eye and upon closer inspection, he saw two armed guards standing outside, one wearing Penguin’s gang colors, the other wearing Two-Face’s.

Bingo. He thought and in order to not raise suspicion, he made his way around one of the pillars that gave him the ability to hide, but also to see the double doors as well. One of the thugs had a walkie-talkie on him and he hummed, pulling out a small device from his pocket. He played with it for a moment and when the static cleared, he grinned and raised it to his mouth.

“Aye, you still outside the office?” he asked, watching as Two-Face’s thug grabbed the radio on his thigh.

“Yeah, boss is still in there with Penguin.” He glanced at the other gang member. “Why?”

“Somebody said they saw Batman poking around the area. Go check it out.”

“But we got orders to stay put.”

He frowned. “Orders ain’t gonna mean shit if Batman gets in there and throws the boss back in GCPD, shithead. Get crackin’.”

The two thugs looked at one another then to the door before shrugging and splitting up and leaving the doors wide open. He turned his back and waited for the guard to pass him before he slipped back and walked up to the doors. Quickly, he pressed his ear to it and listened, hearing someone that sounded like Penguin talking on the inside. He smiled and slipped a small device, no bigger than a thumbtack inside the keyhole, pressing it as he pulled his hand away.

“Hey!” someone shouted behind him. He spun and was met with the two thugs, both with angry and suspicious looks on their faces. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled. “I was looking for the restroom.”

“That ain’t it pal,” Penguin’s thug said.

“Right, sorry,” he excused, feigning an apologetic tone. “If you can point me in the direction, I’ll be out of your hair, promise.”

Two-Face’s thug tipped his head to the opposite side of the room. “Back that way.” He took a step forward and thrust the rifle into his face. “Don’t come back around here.”

He nodded resolutely. “You got it, sir.” He quickly fled before they changed their minds and disappeared into the crowd. When he was sure they no longer had eyes on him, he took a seat at the bar and pulled out an earpiece, discreetly slipping it in; he clicked the button on the outside of the piece and the conversation from inside the door flooded his ear.

“Word is that Sentinel is in town, Two-Face. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that now, would you?”

“What? Afraid that he’ll visit you?”

“Hardly. But the rumor mill says that he’s looking for you. Don’t tell me you pulled out on a deal?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t do—

“Is this seat taken?”

The low drawl made him jump slightly and he looked to the side, seeing a man smirking down at him. His eyes momentarily darted to the door before going back to the man’s face.

“Uh, no,” he replied. “It’s open.”

He hummed and sat down. “Thanks. Can I get you a drink?”

He inconspicuously slipped the earpiece from his ear and dropped it into his pocket. “I don’t know. What’s going to impress you? Something fruity? Or something…hard?” he flirted, propping his chin on his palm.

The stranger chuckled. “How about both?”

Grinning, he looked at the bartender. “Sex In The Driveway, please. For both of us.” The server turned and started making their drinks, and he shifted his attention back to the man beside him. “Got a name, handsome?”

“Jason. What’s yours?”

“(Y/N),” he replied, taking a moment to ogle the man. And boy was he pretty. Sharp jawline, killer set of teal eyes, midnight black hair, and oddly enough, a white streak. He had to be ripped under that red shirt and leather jacket he wore, and (Y/N) really wanted to find out. Their drinks were set in front of them, and he reached over, taking a sip of his.

“What brings you to this dingy nightclub? Don’t tell me it’s the scenery.”

Jason grinned. “I don’t know, the scenery right now is pretty nice.” He took the straw into his mouth and sipped, then set the drink down. “Wanted to see if there was anyone I could take home for the night.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “Well, aren’t you just upfront about what you want.” He winked. “I like that in a man.” Twirling the straw with his finger, he asked, “You work in Gotham?”

He shrugged. “Mostly, but my job takes me where the money is.” Jason looked at him. “I bet you know what that’s like.”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I’m originally from Central City.”

“What’s someone from a safe place like Central doing here in Gotham?”

He hummed and turned in his seat so that he was facing Jason. “Just visiting a friend.”

“A boyfriend?” Jason wondered and (Y/N) snorted.

“Nope. No boyfriend for me.” He eyed him. “Yet…what about you? Have anybody waiting at home?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re loyal? Isn’t that a charming quality.”

“What can I say? I’m a charming guy to be around.”

(Y/N) drug his foot up the side of Jason’s calf. “Charming indeed.”

Jason’s mouth opened, but (Y/N)’s attention was drawn away by the doors in the back opening, and Two-Face stepping out, followed by Penguin. His mood soured and evidently it showed on his face because he heard,

“Are you okay?” He directed his attention back to Jason who was looking at him with a cocked brow.

“Yeah,” he answered, then pulled his foot away and stood up. “But it’s getting late, and I have to get going.”

“Going back to see your friend?”

(Y/N) laughed. “Something like that.” He paused and gazed at Jason, then asked, “Gotta pen?”

He dug around in his pocket then pulled out a black sharpie and handed it over. “Here.” (Y/N) took Jason’s hand in his own and quickly wrote a set of numbers on the back.

Jason looked at it. “This your cell?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, it’s the number to my favorite Chinese joint down the street.” Grinning, he leaned over and planted a kiss on Jason’s cheek, murmuring, “I’ll be in town another couple days. Gimme a call sometime if you’d like to hangout.”

As he pulled away, he caught those teal eyes narrowed in amusement. “I definitely will, (Y/N).”

When he stepped through the exit, he sighed, knowing that he was going to have to spend hours going over the conversation in order to get a plan figured out. But hey, at least I scored a date. He thought with a grin.

***

“Have fun in lockup, Dent!” He called from the ledge as he watched the gang leader get loaded into the squad car. As they drove off, he checked his phone and smiled as the transactions followed through.

“Another night, another million,” he quipped and just as he was putting his phone away, it pinged. He looked back at it, eyes widening as he read,

So that’s what Sentinel looks like out of uniform? Black jeans and Daphne Blue? I hope you know I’m never not going to think of you when I see that combo now 😊.

(Y/N) froze and stared at his screen, millions of thoughts scrambling around his mind until he settled on, Who is this?

The little birdy you met in the lounge the other night.

He blinked and typed, Jason?

That’d be the little birdy.

How do you know who I am?

On your left, Sentinel.

He immediately looked up and his jaw went slack at the sight of Red Hood standing there, phone in his hand.

“You’re shitting me,” (Y/N) blurted out. His phone pinged.

Told you I was gonna call you.

Red Hood—Jason stowed his phone and walked up to him. “Wanna go get that Chinese you mentioned?”

(Y/N) gaped at him, then he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, why not? I could eat.”

[jgvfhl]

Number Lads Return!!!

They're back! They're all alive! They're having fun! Please enjoy this next installment of the Number Lads Saga. Read them all! Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Through a series of unfortunate, albeit regularly occurring events (as far as a war was concerned), Loops, Fives, and Echo all were on a short leave during the next holocall. Echo wasn’t allowed dirtside for another two weeks for the skin grafts on his leg to heal, so Fives came to find Loops and bring him back to the Resolute’s medbay. It always felt kind of weird, being the only trooper with a different paint color. More than a few heads and helmets turned as he walked with Fives through the halls. He met Coric, the senior medical officer for Torrent, and Fives promised they wouldn’t do anything to endanger Echo’s healing process. From Coric’s expression, the question was more routine than strictly necessary.

Echo was sitting up in his bed with a datapad, which he clicked off and set aside when he and Fives entered. “Hey, Loops,” he smiled.

“Hey, Echo,” he returned, standing by the foot of the bed while Fives pulled up a chair to one side of it. “Good to see you out from under a foot of bandages.”

Echo raised his right arm, still bandaged about three inches to either side around the elbow. The exposed skin looked redder than normal, but with no obvious scarring or blistering. “Yeah, it feels good. Still a bit itchy, but burns are nasty.”

“At least you’re not stars-high on pain meds anymore,” Fives pointed out, moving around Loops to the other side of the bed and stripping out of his armor after placing his holoprojector on the sheets between his brother’s knees.

Echo snorted quietly. “Yeah, only up to the stratosphere these days,” he said, using his good arm to inch forward on the bed. Clearly, there was a ritual here Loops was not aware of.

When it became clear Fives was not using the chair he had moved, Loops sat in it. “Still hurts, huh?”

“Yeah, the leg mostly,” he replied, leaning forward to pick up the holoprojector. As he did this, Fives climbed into bed behind him, one leg on either side. “Hopefully, it’ll all fade with time.”

Hopefully, indeed. From what Fives had relayed to him during hyperspace after rescuing them, the injuries to Echo’s leg had been the most severe, damaging the nerves around his knee. Loops could only imagine how unsettling it was for an ARC like Echo to not know if he would make a full physical recovery.

As Echo tuned the holoprojector to the Numbers’ typical frequency, Loops turned to Fives, currently draped over his batcher’s shoulders. “Any word on your Jedi commander?”

Both ARCs shook their heads. “Not a peep,” Fives answered, his chin on Echo’s shoulder. “I would not want to be dealing with the general right now.”

Thankfully, the device in Echo’s hand clicked, the light went blue, then a pair of blue holograms appeared from it. Echo set it down between his legs again and leaned back against Fives.

It was Sevenset and Trees, as it often was when calls first started. Trees waved. Sevenset beamed. “Is that a Loops with our Dominoes?” he asked.

“Yep,” Loops answered, leaning an elbow on Echo’s bed. “Thought it was kinda stupid to make my own call when these two are still around.”

Do-si-do appeared as well. “Hey, guys! Oh, look at you lot all in the same place.”

Zero followed his arrival, making a similar remark. “Glad to see your recovery is as Fives said it was,” he added to Echo.

“Yeah, so far, so good, I guess,” Echo said, making a small gesture with his injured arm. “The leg still hurts like hell, though.”

Zero's image suddenly pitched to one side, a jumble of noise and movement until his projector must have landed on the ground when it stilled. Someone other than Zero shouted, "Handprint buddy!"

Fives breathed a laugh. "Looks like your fanclub finally found you, Echo."

The tilted hologram of a floor somewhere finally righted itself and Zero's image reappeared, flanked by two other troopers with huge smiles. "I… may have mentioned the meeting to some… friends," the green ARC said, an amused kind of tired.

Echo nodded. "I can see that."

The clone on Zero's left waved with energy, making some of his curls bounce. "Hi Echo!" He had a dark-colored handprint tattooed across his mouth, the fingers pointed left across his face. "I'm Nox. That's Pixel." He pointed to the other newcomer, an ARC with multicolored short hair and a handprint shape outlined in spray paint on his breastplate. Pixel waved too.

Echo waved back. "Hey. Sorry, I'm stuck in blacks and med gowns for a bit. Don't have any handprints on them."

"I solved that problem," Nox said, pointing to his tattoo.

"He's got a point," Fives agreed.

"Yeah, the commander's got the Wolfpack symbols inked," Loops spoke up. He was caught a little off guard by both Dominos turning to him, as well as most of the others. "What?"

"You just happen to know Commander Wolffe's got tattoos like that?" Sevenset asked.

Nines, who had appeared in the middle of Nox and Pixel’s introductions, was one of the only ones not staring at Loops like he had three heads. “It’s… not that uncommon, right? Ghost Company all knows Cody has a tattoo of a growth pod on the back of his shoulder with the word ‘mom’ written under it.”

"I still haven't figured out where Commanders Havoc, Blitz, or Colt sleep!" Sevenset complained.

"Probably because they commed Fox and know your history of being a piece of osik."

Loops had watched Commander Sixes appear just before Sevenset started the second half of his statement. Drama queen. He made sure he kept his mouth shut for that remark, though. No one wanted to be on Death's bad side.

Except Sevenset, apparently, who was barely fazed by the commander's sudden appearance. He considered the theory, then nodded. "I would not be surprised if that were the case."

"How do we know the commander didn't tell them himself after you dragged him into this mess?" Trees muttered, just loud enough to be heard. Loops rather liked the sharp humor they were discovering as Trees warmed up to the group.

He also wished the commander would take off his damn bucket so he could tell if that subtle shift in the pilot commander's shoulders was a smile or a chuckle or a "get karked" face--so many options. No information.

"You don't." Then he added, "Who the hell are those two, Zero?"

"They're my Handprint Buddies," Echo answered for him, like it was obvious.

Nox waved again, Pixel was looking at the commander like he was trying to figure out who this mysterious CO was. Pretty typical.

"Handprint buddies, huh? Great." The tone did not match the final adjective.

"Do you know Commander Nero, sir?" Pixel asked out of nowhere.

The commander paused, and everyone else did too, because a chance to learn something new about him was not something to miss. "Might."

"Because he's mentioned… I think it was, quote, 'a collection of all-black dramatic, daredevil maniacs,' a few times."

Loops wanted to save the image of pure curious delight on Sevenset's face, his dark eyes shining as he stared at the commander.

Nox nodded. "Oh yeah, I remember that too."

"Zero?" Trees asked.

"Anything to add?" Do-si-do pressed.

"Yeah, Commander Nero has some opinions on how the Death Wings operate," Zero admitted, "but I think it's mostly to keep Blitz and Firebolt from trying any battlefield reenactments."

"Probably for the best," the commander said. That left Loops with a few questions, although he did know the Death Wings hadn’t gotten that moniker from being shy on the battlefield.

“How long are you three on leave?” Sevenset wanted to know.

“I’ve only got another day and a bit,” Loops answered. “We’re shipping off to some planet plagued by earthquakes, I guess. Helping to rebuild.”

“Sounds… decent,” Trees said.

Loops shrugged. “We’ve had worse.” Pretty much the whole GAR knew that the Wolfpack had been rebuilt from four remaining members after the Malevolence. The ‘Pack could handle a little shaky ground.

“What about the boys in blue?” Do-si-do asked of Fives and Echo.

Fives also shrugged, sitting up a bit to put his arms around his brother’s neck. “Who knows? Felucia was a kriffing mess as usual, even if we did hold on until reinforcements.”

“When is Felucia ever not a mess?” Echo added with a scowl.

“Never,” Loops agreed.

“And that’s not counting our Jedi commander just… disappearing, or something,” Fives finished.

There was a short pause before Sevenset, Trees, Zero, and Do-si-do all said something along the lines of, “Your Jedi did what?”

“Yep,” Fives said.

His brother continued, “She was there with the Wolfies one moment, then she was nowhere to be seen.”

Sevenset grimaced. “Damn.”

“How’d the general take it?” Trees asked.

Fives made a face this time. Echo shook his head. “Not good.”

“No kidding,” Nines said, also shaking his head. “Commanders Offee and Tano almost died on Geonosis with the two-twelfth when they blew up the droid foundery on top of themselves. General Skywalker looked like he was gonna tear into the rubble himself until they came out.”

“Yeah… she told us about that,” Fives agreed.

Loops was momentarily distracted from the rest of the conversation by some noise outside Echo’s room in the hall. It was quiet to start, like a passing conversation, but it quickly crescendoed into running footsteps and someone shouting, “Domino!” over and over.

“What--?” Echo started to ask, but he never got the chance to finish.

Someone, a trooper, burst into the room, breathing like he’d been running laps around the ship. He reminded Loops of Sevenset immediately. Probably the lack of hair and the blue lines of ink on his face, and maybe the gleam in his eyes Loops had come to associate with utter chaos. “The commander’s back!” he announced proudly.

The Dominoes blinked at him. “What?”

“She’s back!” the trooper repeated, then finally registered Loops’ presence, and the holograms as well. “Oh! Wait, are you guys in your little number meeting? Can I see? Can I see?” He didn’t wait for any answer, instead hurrying over to the other side of the bed, avoiding the pile of Fives’ armor.

“‘Case, what--” the owner of said armor started.

“Hi, numbers!” the trooper said loudly, beaming like Sevenset did, and waving energetically.

“Hardcase!” Echo said sharply, and the newcomer--Hardcase (of course that was his name)--finally stopped to look at them.

“What?”

“What do you mean, ‘what?’” Fives said. “You said the commander’s back, and haven’t said anything else.”

Hardcase leaned his elbows on the bed. “Ohhhhhhh oh oh oh, right, right. Sorry. Yeah, she’s back, she got captured by some Trandoshans and taken to some hunt island or something. She and the other Jedi cadets there contacted the wookies on Kashyyyk to get help.”

“Wait, Trandoshans?” Do-si-do repeated.

“She got to meet wookies?” Sevenset added with enthusiasm. “What did she say about the wookies?”

“Why the hell do you want to know about the wookies after finding out the Trandoshans are stealing Jedi?” Trees said with a frown and a furrowed brow.

“Wookies are cool!” Hardcase and Sevenset both said at the same time.

There was a small silence. A small, yet very important silence. Fives and Echo looked at their friend, then looked at Sevenset’s hologram. Sixes’ head fell into his hands.

“Oh no,” Trees muttered.

“Can I keep that one?” Hardcase asked Fives. “Like when you’re not being Number Buddies or whatever?”

“Absolutely,” Sevenset answered for him.

“I guess it’s a good thing Incident isn’t here,” Zero said.

“Maker help us, yeah,” Pixel agreed quietly, almost drowned out by Hardcase’s next outburst.

“You have a guy named Incident?” he asked with a huge smile. “He sounds wizard.”

“I’m sure you’d get along like a base on fire.”

“Do not give him ideas,” Echo groaned. He slumped further against his batchmate.

Hardcase’s smile shrank to something fonder and less dangerous. He straightened up from where he had been leaning on the bed. “Don’t worry, I already have plenty,” he said, patting Echo’s head.

“What does that mean?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hardcase’s smile was perfectly innocent.

Echo was finding it difficult to keep a smile off his face as well, even as he tried to be stern. “Just because I’m in medbay doesn’t mean I don’t outrank you, ‘Case.”

“You only outrank me ‘cause you’re ARCs. I’ve still got months of experience on you two.” He waved once more at the holograms. “Anyway, I’m still on leave, so, bye Fives’ friends we thought were imaginary until he showed us the comm link!”

Fives sputtered indignantly for a second as Hardcase ran out of the room laughing. “I know where you sleep!” he finally shouted after him.

Echo winced at the volume. “Ow.” His brother muttered a quiet apology and curled his body closer around Echo.

“You know,” Trees said once quiet returned. “I’m starting to understand why you call the five-oh-first ‘Rex’s freaks,’ Commander.”

“You’re just realizing that now?” came the gruff reply.

The End

@theultimatesandwich @23-bears @mercurydancer @darth-void @bonk-horny-jail @alamogirl80

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Three

Read it on AO3: Zebras Can’t Change Their Stripes: Chapter Three

“It’s not too close to where you used to live, is it?” Luka inquired nervously as they climbed the stairs to the third floor of the apartment building in the fifteenth arrondissement, not far from the Eiffel Tower.

“No, it’s fine,” Adrien assured, taking in how clean and in good repair everything was despite the building being older. “They leveled the mansion and built new homes on the lot, so it’s not a problem. I don’t think I could take seeing that building, that wall of windows, ever again, but the area itself is fine.”

“Oh, good,” Luka breathed in relief. “The last thing I’d want is to take you somewhere full of painful reminders.”

“No, this is wonderful,” Adrien stressed. “This place is really nice, and I’m so grateful to you for taking me in. Seriously. Thank you.”

“Not at all,” Luka assured with an encouraging grin as they made their way down the hall to the eighth and last door on the left-hand side. “I cannot stress what a weight off my mind it is to have you close by so that I can see that you’re safe. I’m happy to have you.”

Adrien looked down at his scuffed-up shoes as Luka pulled out the key.

“I’m really sorry to have worried you,” Adrien mumbled, shame making the tips of his ears burn. “I guess I was so caught up in my own head that I didn’t stop to think about how what I was doing would affect anyone else. I didn’t think I really mattered to anyone.”

Luka tamped down the surge of anger he suddenly felt towards Gabriel Agreste for all the years of neglect Adrien had suffered that made him think that his existence had so little impact on others.

He reached out and ruffled Adrien’s hair. “It’s okay. Apology accepted. Just stop and think next time you’re considering dropping off the face of the earth without telling anyone.”

“Sorry,” Adrien repeated, leaning into Luka’s touch.

“No worries,” Luka reiterated, increasing the pressure. “I think we all get it. Your whole life got smashed to pieces, and there was a lot going on. No one’s mad at you. We all know you were trying your best just to survive, but we were worried and mad at our own inability to do anything. Nino is still a wreck, and that Wayem guy you were friends with was completely inconsolable. Alya, Kagami, Chloé…Marinette…”

Both Luka and Adrien flinched at the last name.

“…a lot of people care about you,” Luka sighed, moving his hand to scratch behind Adrien’s ear, slipping back into their old casual intimacies as if no time had passed.

“It’s good to know that,” Adrien replied in a weak voice, swallowing back a fresh round of tears.

Internally, he laughed at the fact that he’d cried more in that single day than he had in the preceding year.

“I’m going to need to reach out to them later tonight,” Luka tentatively informed.

Adrien’s head shot up, his eyes wide in alarm.

“I don’t have to tell them you’re staying with me or even that you’re back in Paris, but they need to know that you’re safe and well,” Luka insisted, not taking no for an answer. “You don’t have to talk to them until you’re ready, but I know what it feels like to wonder if you’re dead, Adrien. They deserve to know you’re safe.”

Reluctantly, Adrien nodded. “I see your point. …I was thinking about getting back in touch with Nino and Marinette, actually. I’m not ready right now, but…yeah. I don’t want to worry them any more than I already have.”

“Good,” Luka sighed, opening the apartment door. “That settles it, then.”

He was just about to step inside when he suddenly remembered the state his apartment was currently in after The Breakup.

Luka hurriedly closed the door and groaned.

“Problem?” Adrien inquired hesitantly, eyebrows scrunching together in concern.

Luka rested his forehead against the door and took a deep breath. “…Uh…yeah. I kind of forgot that the apartment is sort of a dump right now. I think Josie mentioned how I just broke up with the woman I had planned on spending my life with six days ago?”

Adrien winced. “Oh. That’s… Sorry.”

“Yeah.” Luka blew out a long breath, straightening up and looking at Adrien apologetically. “I’m so sorry. It’s not normally like this, I swear. I just haven’t been functioning this past week.”

“It’s okay,” Adrien assured with a look of utter sympathy and understanding on his face as he reached out and placed a comforting hand on Luka’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sorry,” Luka repeated, voice raw as all the emotions he’d been pushing to the back of his mind resurfaced. “Sorry I’m kind of going to pieces on you out in the hallway when you’ve got so much on your own plate.”

“Shh,” Adrien soothed, coaxing Luka gently into his arms.

Luka was a little embarrassed at how quickly he melted into Adrien’s touch.

“It’s okay,” Adrien cooed, starting to rub soothing circles between Luka’s shoulder blades. “I’m really sorry that you’re having a rough time, but, honestly, the ugly part of me feels a lot better knowing that even you can be a mess sometimes.”

“I’m glad you’re able to take comfort in my suffering,” Luka laughed through tears, giving Adrien a squeeze.

“It’s just that you’re always so chill and mature and levelheaded,” Adrien teased. “You were always the one comforting me and giving advice and making me feel better about the crappy things in my life. It’s good to feel like maybe I have an opportunity to be there for you now.”

“That’s valid,” Luka agreed into Adrien’s shoulder. “…Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Adrien hummed happily, giving Luka a pat on the back.

With another sigh, Luka straightened up and opened the door. “I promise you I’m going to clean all this up starting tomorrow. Going forward, I won’t leave a mess in the common areas.”

Adrien clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “Luka, it’s seriously not a big deal. I am literally homeless; I’m not going to judge your housekeeping lapses while you’re going through a major breakup. It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t feel fine,” Luka grumbled as Adrien stepped into the apartment and got his first look at the carnage. “And you’re not homeless anymore,” Luka chided, stepping inside and locking the door behind them. “You live here now, so welcome home.”

“Thank you,” Adrien chuckled, taking in the dirty laundry, soiled dishes, pizza boxes, Chinese takeaway cartons, and half-eaten junk food refuse.

“Oh my God,” Luka groaned. “Please don’t look at it. I swear I don’t live like this all the time. I’ll clean it all up tomorrow.”

Adrien turned to Luka and pulled him into a quick hug. “I’m sorry that you’re suffering. It’s okay not to be able to stay on top of everything all the time.”

Luka was stunned into silence, not sure how to feel.

Adrien pulled back and smiled, ignoring the mess and asking, “So, where do I sleep?”

“Here,” Luka replied gratefully as he stepped over the rubbish littering the living room floor to guide Adrien to the third door on the right wall. “Kitchen is there, obviously.” He pointed straight back through the apartment.

It was an open concept layout, so the living room seamlessly faded into what would have been a nice little kitchen area with an island in the middle as a workspace and a full stove, oven, refrigerator, microwave, dishwasher, cabinets, pantry, and sink…if not for the fact that, like the rest of the apartment, it looked like a disaster zone at the moment.

“That first door is my bedroom, the middle one is the bathroom, and your room is here,” Luka oriented Adrien, motioning to the other two doors in turn before opening the one that led to Adrien’s new bedroom.

“It’s kind of spartan at the moment,” Luka informed apologetically as Adrien peeked in.

It was a more-than-reasonably-sized room with generous closet space. As far as furniture went, there was a desk, a desk chair, a bed, and a nightstand. The walls were bare of decoration, and the mattress didn’t have any sheets.

Still, it was a nice room, even in its sparseness. Natural light poured in through the large windows, making it feel warm and cheerful.

“This is really nice,” Adrien whispered, voice cracking.

Luka looked to him with a tentative smile. “You like it?”

Adrien nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Good.” Luka’s hesitant grin grew into a full-blown beam. “How much stuff do you have back at your room at the hostel where you were staying? I just want to know if we need to take the car or the motorcycle or what to go get it.”

Adrien shifted uncomfortably. “Um…nothing, actually.”

Luka blinked as he did a doubletake of the small satchel Adrien had with him.

He took a deep breath and decided, “We’re going shopping.”

Adrien’s eyes grew as big as marbles for the nth time that day. “Luka, I really don’t need anything. I already feel bad what with—”

“—Hush.” Luka pressed his fingers to Adrien’s lips. “At the very least, we need to go get you some bed linens because I don’t have clean sheets to give you to sleep on. You also need a phone so people can get ahold of you for band stuff. Those things are non-negotiable.”

Adrien bit his lip, looking more and more uncomfortable as he realized that there was no way to get himself out of placing himself further in debt to Luka.

“I’ll pay you back someday,” he promised, not sure how he would ever make good on his word.

Luka’s eyes softened, and he gave Adrien a warm smile and a pat on the head. “You don’t have to, but, if it makes you feel better, okay.”

Adrien nodded resolutely. “I will pay you back.”

 The first stop was a little SFR phone boutique, and then Luka took them to a nearby Monoprix department store.

Adrien picked out an inexpensive, plain bed set, but Luka put it back and steered Adrien over to the pricier, better quality sets with fun designs.

“I don’t want you sleeping on scratchy sheets,” Luka chided affectionately. “I know you haven’t had much these past few years, but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve nice things. And while I’m aware that the options here aren’t that impressive, I want you to pick something comfortable in a colour or pattern that you like, okay?”

Adrien hesitated for a moment before going over to the more expensive sets and picking out a dark blue one with a white shooting star pattern. He looked to Luka for approval, and Luka smiled, nodding.

“Perfect. Now let’s get you some clothes,” Luka announced in satisfaction.

“I have clothes,” Adrien insisted, mortified.

Luka rolled his eyes. “When was the last time you got new clothes? I know they don’t have the best selection here, but you could probably use some new socks, underwear, pyjamas, shirts, am I right?”

Adrien pointedly didn’t look at Luka.

With a sad, sympathetic expression, Luka went over to Adrien and tugged gently on his sleeve. “Please let me buy you new clothes?” Luka pleaded softly, voice just above a whisper. “I haven’t been able to do anything for you this whole time, and I feel like, based on what you said, there were times when you really needed someone. Please let me try to make up for not being there for you. Can you do that for me?”

Adrien looked up at Luka, scrutinizing his face for a minute. “To be clear, I’m not asking you to do all this for me. Because I don’t need this. This is all your idea. I’m not making you spend all this money on me.”

Luka nodded, patiently confirming, “That’s right.”

“I’m letting you do this as a favour to you,” Adrien added uneasily.

Luka kept nodding. “Yes, and I would be extremely grateful if you’d let me.”

“And you’re doing this because you’re my friend and you care for me and you feel guilty?” Adrien verified. “Not because you pity me or you’re looking down on me or anything?”

Luka placed his hands on Adrien’s shoulders and stared him intently in the eye. “What I feel for you isn’t pity. It’s empathy and compassion, Adrien. You didn’t look down on or pity me when I was broke, did you?”

“No, of course not,” Adrien scoffed at the ridiculous notion.

“No,” Luka agreed. “You didn’t. You may have felt bad that you took for granted things that I went without, but you didn’t pity me. You were compassionate, and you shared what you had with me. You bought me gifts that I couldn’t afford for myself. I still treasure the things you gave me. They’re proof that you cared about me and wanted me to have nice things.”

“Oh,” Adrien whispered as realization dawned on him.

“Do you kind of get it now?” Luka chuckled, patting Adrien on the shoulder before stepping back.

Adrien pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay. I think…we’re probably going to have to have this conversation a couple times in the coming weeks until it really sinks in, but…I think I get it, so…let’s go shopping?” he replied uncertainly.

Luka smiled, taking Adrien by the hand and leading him to the men’s clothing section.

 They picked up a week’s worth of new clothes for Adrien and then stopped by the personal care section for bath and grooming supplies.

When Adrien insisted that he didn’t strictly need an item, Luka took to saying, “I’m buying you this because I love you”.

Adrien may have protested more frequently than necessary just to get Luka to say it.

Even back when Adrien had a home and a family, he hadn’t really heard “I love you” that much. His friends (Nino especially) had often reminded Adrien that he was loved, but it had been years since he’d last been told that.

They walked past the toy section, and Adrien stopped when a bin of stuffed animals caught his eye.

He reached out to stroke a black cat plushie, and Luka saw the wistful look in Adrien’s eyes.

Luka picked up the stuffed animal and inspected it.

“I used to have one,” Adrien hastily explained, looking away. “Nathalie gave it to me for my eighth birthday to keep me company because my father had to go out of town on a business trip and my mother went with him, so I was alone for my birthday. I named him Chat Noir…. Seeing that just reminded me.”

“Do you want this?” Luka inquired, gazing at Adrien with bottomless affection.

Adrien’s eyes said “yes”, but Adrien shook his head, responding, “No, I don’t need it.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Luka chuckled, tucking the stuffed animal into the crook of Adrien’s arm. “I asked if you wanted it.”

Adrien opened his mouth to protest, but Luka cut him off.

“I’m buying you this so that every time you look at it, you’ll remember that you’re loved,” he informed, taking Adrien by the hand and tugging him along.

“Thank you,” Adrien whispered, hugging Chat Noir the Third to his chest and smiling to himself.

 The next stop was the groceries section on the ground floor.

“I really need to do the shopping,” Luka groaned. “I’m pretty sure a sentient lifeform is growing in the fridge at this point, but I’m completely wiped today.”

He sent Adrien an apologetic look. “I kind of drank myself stupid last night, and I’m still feeling it a little. Let’s just get you some snacks to tide you over until I can go grocery shopping tomorrow morning. We can get takeaway tonight for dinner, if that’s okay.”

“I’m good,” Adrien assured. “I really don’t need anything. If you recall, I didn’t exactly get snacks much growing up either.”

“Well, take a look around and see if anything looks good,” Luka urged. “At the very least, we can pick up some mint tea and prepackaged salads.”

Adrien’s eyes grew large and misty. “You remembered.”

Luka burst out laughing, and he reached out to tussle Adrien’s hair. “Perfect Fifth, you have the most bizarre comfort foods ever. Of course I remember them. Come on.”

He motioned for Adrien to follow him to the corresponding sections of the store.

On the way, he watched Adrien closely, taking note of the things that seemed to catch his eye.

“We should have sushi sometime,” he remarked as he noticed Adrien eying the sushi bar longingly. “Would you like that?”

“I would love that,” Adrien sighed wistfully, his mouth already watering. “I haven’t had sushi in forever.”

“Maybe tomorrow for lunch before rehearsal,” Luka suggested. “We can pick some up while we’re here for groceries.”

“I’d like that,” Adrien repeated softly. “Thank you for being so considerate.”

Luka responded with a grin and playfully bumped Adrien’s shoulder with his own. “Sure thing.”

The next thing that grabbed Adrien’s attention was the cheese monger’s counter.

He looked at it sadly, his eyes growing damp once more.

“Oh my gosh,” Luka exclaimed as realization hit him. “We need to pick up some Camembert for Plagg, don’t we?”

Adrien’s hand flew out to grab Luka’s arm and stop him as he made to go over to the cheese section.

Luka frowned as the tears started to spill down Adrien’s cheeks.

“Adrien? What’s wrong?” Luka cooed.

Adrien shook his head and held up his ringless right hand.

Luka gasped. “What happened?”

Adrien kept shaking his head as he ruefully bit out the words with some difficulty. “I didn’t feel like I deserved him after everything that happened…so I gave him back to her before I left.”

Luka’s already pale skin lost its remaining colour as his stomach turned sour.

He cursed under his breath.

“And here, this whole time, I was making myself feel better by telling myself that at least you had Plagg to look after you, but…” Luka cursed again, shaking his head and getting his thoughts in order. “Do you want me to call her? I’ll call her and drive over there right now and get him back for you.”

Adrien looked up at Luka in surprise. “You…she told you?”

Luka averted his eyes and shrugged. “I figured it out. Do you want me to go get Plagg for you?”

Adrien bit his lip, looking like he was just about to say yes, but then his eyes darkened, and he shook his head. “I don’t think I can face him just yet either, but when you text Marinette later that I’m alive, could you please tell her to tell Plagg that I’m sorry and I miss him?”

“I can do that,” Luka promised, already knowing that he was going to go see Marinette the next day and get Plagg from her so that he’d be on hand the second Adrien was ready to be reunited with him.

Luka realized that the fact that he was so ready to face her again on Adrien’s behalf was rather telling.

He’d never exactly stopped loving Adrien, and he feared his feelings were just waiting in the wings to flare up at any moment.

 They returned to the apartment and spent the rest of the day getting Adrien settled in. By the time Luka pushed the rubbish off of the couch so that they could sit down and eat their dinner that evening, they were both exhausted.

“After I eat, I’m going to my room and collapsing,” Luka informed, tucking into his carton of kung pao chicken.

“Sorry to have worn you out,” Adrien apologized sheepishly as he started on his vegetable lo mein. “I really appreciate everything you did for me today.”

“No worries,” Luka assured with a half-full mouth. “I wore myself out before you were even in the picture…and, honestly, today is the best day I’ve had in a long time.”

Adrien tipped his head in surprise. “Wait. Really?”

Luka nodded. “Even before The Breakup, I was getting pretty down…. She’s in love with someone else. She’s always been in love with someone else, but I’ve never held it against her. I thought it was okay because it wasn’t like she was actually cheating on me or anything. She couldn’t be with him, so she settled for me, and I thought that was okay because that was still her picking me, but…it’s been years, and she’s still pining after the ghost of him.”

He looked up at Adrien with a smile that had been beaten down but still gotten back up on its feet. “I thought it was okay, but it wasn’t, and it had really started to wear down on me. So, today was actually really good. Concentrating on you is helping me get my mind out of the dark place it’s been living for a while now.”

“I’m really glad I could help in some small way,” Adrien replied with a tentative smile. “I hope you have more good days going forward.”

Luka nodded, going back to his dinner. “I’m sure I will. There are still going to be days where I drink myself into a coma and can’t get out of bed, but there will be days when I’m a functioning human being too. Maybe having you around will give me the kick in the pants I need to shower regularly and keep the apartment clean and eat all the meals I’m supposed to. I always do better when I’m focused on someone else.”

“I’ve seen you focus on other people too much and completely neglect yourself,” Adrien hummed softly. “…But I’m going to be around for a while, so I guess if I see you doing that, I can nag you about it.”

“Please feel free to do so,” Luka snorted in laughter. “Goodness knows I need it.”

He scooted over on the couch, cautiously invading Adrien’s space.

Adrien surreptitiously inched closer.

Luka closed the gap until they were shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. “Do you mind snuggling?” he asked even though Adrien was already leaning into Luka, resting his head against Luka’s shoulder.

“Snuggling is my favourite thing,” Adrien laughed. “You know that. How many times have I used you as a body pillow?”

“Things change. You never know,” Luka replied with a shrug. “I don’t ever want to do something that makes you uncomfortable. I know you’ve historically had a hard time telling people no and where your boundaries are.”

“Thanks,” Adrien whispered, voice full of gratitude. “But I think maybe you and I can just pick up where we left off, if that’s okay. You still feel like you, and you make me feel like a person I haven’t been in a long time.”

Luka tipped his head to the side, resting it against Adrien’s. “Is that a good thing?”

“Yeah,” Adrien hummed. “I think it is. I’ve grown a lot these past few years, but there are parts of myself that I feel like I’ve lost that I miss. There are a lot of things I want to lose and a lot of things I want to get back, so I think this is good.”

“Good,” Luka sighed, a small smile curling up the corners of his lips. “I’m feeling kind of needy lately. Snuggling sounds really good.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Adrien assured.

They ate their dinner in happy, warm silence and lingered for a while after they were through, just enjoying the company.

Finally, Luka persuaded himself to get up and take the empty containers over to the nearly overflowing rubbish bin in the kitchen.

He winced as embarrassment reared its head again. “I promise I’m going to clean all of this up tomorrow.”

“No worries,” Adrien chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s seriously fine, Luka.”

“It’s really not,” Luka grumbled. “I am not my mother. I do not go on drinking sprees and let trash pile up around me. I am a functional, responsible adult.”

Adrien got up and went over to Luka, resting a supportive hand on his arm. “You are a functional, responsible adult…and you need to cut yourself some slack. Be nice. You’re going through some stuff. That’s what you used to tell me, right?”

Adrien shot him a bolstering smile, and Luka’s lips twitched just a little in response.

“Thank you, Adrien. It’s just…this,” He waved his arms to encapsulate the entire mess of an apartment. “is not me.”

“I know,” Adrien replied matter-of-factly. “And you can fix it when you feel better. Now, off to bed with you.”

Luka pulled Adrien into a quick side-hug. “You’re the best.”

Adrien cracked up. “Please tell me that often. My self-esteem could use the boost.”

“Noted,” Luka assured, turning to head to his room.

He paused when he suddenly remembered and reached for his wallet.

“Before I forget: apartment key, credit card, cash,” he announced as he fished each item out of his wallet and set it down on one of the only clean spots on the kitchen island.

Adrien gawked. “What’s all this?”

Luka nodded to the apartment key. “I’ll have a duplicate made for you tomorrow, but if you need to go out before then, you’ll need the key. If you discover that you don’t have something you need, there’s money. I mean, I’m sure we forgot something. If you need me, just knock on my door, and if I don’t respond, come in and shake me because I’m probably stone cold passed out,” Luka concluded with a shrug.

Adrien kept staring, looking back and forth between Luka and the money in disbelief. “Aren’t you afraid of me just taking off with that?”

Luka burst out laughing. “Why would you do that?”

Adrien shrugged. “I don’t know. I told you earlier that I stole money from my aunt. You’d think you’d be a little more cautious.”

Luka rolled his eyes. “Have you ever stolen something you didn’t need? Have you ever stolen from someone who couldn’t take the loss?”

Slowly, Adrien began to shake his head.

“Okay then,” Luka declared as if that settled it. “Besides, is it stealing if I gave this stuff to you?”

Adrien pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. “…No?”

“No,” Luka agreed, reaching out to pat Adrien on the head. “You’re free to go whenever you want, Adrien. I would never keep you here against your will, but I think you do want to be here, and I want you here too, so I hope you’ll stay.”

Confusion slowly overtook Adrien’s expression and he found himself asking the question that had been in the back of his mind all day: “Is all of this for real?”

Luka’s eyebrow arched questioningly. “What do you mean?”

Adrien swallowed and motioned around them. “All of this. Is this really…free? No strings attached? You really don’t want anything from me? You’re not expecting me to do anything to pay you back?”

Luka shook his head, giving Adrien what he hoped was a calming smile. “Completely free,” he assured. “No strings.”

Adrien frowned harder. “Sorry. I just…I know you’re telling the truth. I know I can trust you. I do trust you. I just haven’t been able to trust anyone in a long time, so this is really hard for me to just accept all of your kindness.”

Luka nodded, trying to imagine what it must have been like for Adrien, not even able to trust his own family. “It’s okay. I’m not offended or anything. You’ve been through a lot, and even though I have no way of really understanding that, I respect it.”

Adrien swallowed, hesitating before confessing, “People have tricked me before. People have pretended to be nice, but they weren’t actually nice. I know you’re not like that, but…people who have been nice to me have always expected things I’m not interested in giving, so I’m just kind of anxious because people get mean when you tell them no after they’ve been nice to you.”

Luka’s jaw dropped, and fear surged up into his chest. “Adrien,” he gasped. “Are you okay? Did someone…?”

Adrien shook his head rapidly. “No. No. I mean…not successfully. I’m fine. Just…you know. Close calls. It’s made me painfully aware of how vulnerable I am, though.”

He winced. “It made me realize how dangerous it can be for someone whom no one cares about. If something happened to me, no one would come looking or ask questions. It’s scary once you realize no one’s looking out for you. It makes you hesitant to trust people.”

Luka stepped forward, pulling Adrien into a hug. “Well, it’s not like that anymore, so you don’t have to be scared. You have friends here. Old ones you just need to reconnect with and new ones like Josie and Jacob and Marc. You’re safe, Adrien.”

Luka pulled back to look Adrien in the eye to make sure he was hearing what Luka was saying. “And this is your home now, not just mine. That room is your room. I’m not going to barge in uninvited or mess with your things. That’s your space, and you have door-locking privileges. Same goes for the bathroom. I want you to feel safe here.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem,” Adrien assured, smiling peacefully as he rested his head on Luka’s shoulder and gave him a grateful squeeze. “Sorry I’m kind of busted up. The world is sort of mean.”

“I know. Don’t worry. Everyone is a little busted up in some way or another. It’s not just you,” Luka informed.

“Thanks,” Adrien sighed as he pulled away. “Now go get some rest. You look like you got hit by a truck.”

A peal of laughter took Luka by surprise. “That is exactly what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

“I’ll bet.” Adrien smirked. “Go sleep.”

“What are you going to do?” Luka had to wonder.

“Monopolize your bathtub for at least an hour and then watch anime on my phone,” Adrien answered without batting an eye.

“You like baths?” Luka snickered. “Why am I just now finding this out about you?”

Adrien shrugged, his smirk growing wider. “My bathtub was one of the few things I loved about my previous domicile, and I’ve been deprived of baths for nearly five years at this point. Please take this as notice that I’m annexing your bathtub.”

“Fair enough,” Luka conceded without a fight, amused at the simple things that could bring Adrien pleasure.

“Also, I take long, hot showers, so prepare for your water bill to skyrocket,” Adrien warned.

“Noted.” Luka relaxed as Adrien seemed to become more and more comfortable making himself at home by the minute.

“And I’m going to need your Netflix password,” Adrien added to the list of demands.

Luka winced. “I don’t have Netflix.”

Adrien stared, blinked, and then cocked his head to the side. “…What?”

Luka rolled his eyes and pointed to the credit card on the counter.

Adrien looked at the card and then back to Luka. “Really?”

“Go crazy,” Luka assured. “Anything else?”

Adrien thought for a moment. “Not at present.”

“Okay. Night, night, Perfect Fifth.” He gave Adrien’s hair a tussle for good measure and turned to go.

“Good night, Orpheus,” Adrien called after him, resurrecting his own old nickname for Luka. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Luka echoed, savoring those words.

[lokiwritess]

Late Night Visit - Fives

Honestly, we all know that I’m the one who needed that hug after the last episode

Surprise was the most prevalent emotion you felt when - just a few minutes after midnight - there was a knock on the door. Exhaustion was another one, even though you were unable to sleep properly anyway. No matter what you did, you couldn’t shut off your mind to sleep. 

Even meditation couldn’t help you relax, so you were left to keep tossing and turning on the cot in your room.

Maybe that was a good thing. The nightmares that had plagued you since Umbara were terrible, and once you stayed awake long enough you would eventually crash into a dreamless sleep. 

Unhealthy, but better than dealing with the darkness that overcame you, every time you thought about the dark planet. It took you a moment to untangle from your sheets and pad through the dark. Your bare feet made a pleasant sound on the cold ground, the cold offering a sense of relief. Your muscles were still sore from training. You’d pushed yourself too far too fast, just wanting to get the tension out of your system.

The night cycle lights of the Resolute contrasted sharply against the darkness of your room. They blinded you as you opened the door, causing you to squint in displeasure. It took you a moment to adjust, but when you did, confusion settled in your mind.

Before your door, in full armor, was Fives, bucket under his arm and looking rather uncomfortable. It alarmed you immediately. After a few days of rest, something had got to go wrong. 

“Fives, is everything alright? Are we under attack?” 

You were ready to grab your lightsaber and throw over some clothes immediately.

“What?”, he asked, surprised by your reaction. Then it clicked. “No, no it’s okay, nothing happened everyone’s okay.”, he assured.

You sighed in relief, the rush of adrenaline you’d felt disappearing as fast as it came, leaving you to your exhaustion.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” He sounded tired, and much more quiet than was usual for the trooper. But there was something else there, a feeling you couldn’t decipher. A look on his face you hadn’t seen before.

“No, I wasn’t asleep yet. What’s bringing you here?”

“I- uhm…” He fell silent, hand coming up to run through his facial hair.

“Why don’t you come in?” 

He nodded eagerly, stepping past you as you closed the door. With the brush of a hand, you turned on the dimmed lights inside of your small quarters, leading the way inside.

Fives stood a little unsure, scanning your room. It wasn’t much - which was to be expected on a warship. In the far corner was your bed, with a little table next to it that was currently occupied by your familiar lightsaber. Fives spotted one of those meditation cushions against the far wall, but other than that, you had a door to a small refresher and two chairs in front of a kitchen unit. Not much - but a luxury reserved for the Jedi Generals and Commanders. A couple of levels above barracks that the clones shared.

“Honestly, I expected the Jedi's rooms to be a little more luxurious.”, he joked absent-mindedly.

“Ah yes, totally. Because Jedi are known for their fine taste in furniture.”, you chuckled, moving to one of the seats. 

Fives dropped his bucket on top of the kitchen unit and turned around, leaning against the cool durasteel instead of taking the other chair. He didn’t seem any less… overwhelmed. And it confused you. Because normally, Fives was one of the more relaxed people you knew. Less on edge like the shinies usually were.

“I’m really sorry for showing up so late.”

“It’s okay, really. I was awake anyway.”

“How come? Weren’t you training with the General all day long?”

“I just don’t sleep well at the moment… for a while actually. Since Umbara.”, you muttered, absently playing with your fingers.

At the mention of the planet shrouded in darkness, his head lifted to look at you. Maybe that’s why he was there? Did he want to talk about the mission? After coming back, you hadn’t really heard anyone talk about it. Most just… ignored it in the hopes that they’d forget. An impossible endeavor. You pressed your lips together, trying to push the darkness away. 

“Well, my sleep problems aside, what brings you here? What can I help you with?” You tried to sound assuring, trying to smile but it came out half-heartedly.

The ghost of a chuckle escaped from the ARC. “My sleep problems?”, he quipped.

It made you smile, even if just for a moment. And it made Fives relax, just a little bit.

“And how can I help with that?”, you questioned, genuinely interested in helping.

“I…”, he trailed off, seemingly ashamed. But then, he mustered up the courage and walked away from the counter, sitting down in the other seat. 

“I’ve been having these dreams since Umbara. I don’t know if you remember- Kix said you had trouble piecing together everything that happened after you woke up - but I was right there when you got injured. Me n’ Rex. We just tried not to die an’ then I turned to you. You were fighting but then your back was hit an’… you screamed.”

He seemed upset by what he was telling you, a jumble of emotions radiating off of him.

“I do remember. It’s rushed in my head and some things are blurry, but… I got my back slashed by that weapon and then I was face-down in the dirt. I tried to remember what was going on around me but the only thing that came back was that you were there.”, you nodded. 

Your back was healed now, leaving only the scar going down the middle of your back almost straight. But if it hadn’t been for Kix… You tried not to think about it, but it was a fact. If the medic hadn’t been right there, you wouldn’t have made it off of that damned planet alive.

“In those dreams… you always die. Right there, in the mud. And I always sit there, some time’s I’m alone, some time’s Rex is there but… you always die no matter what I try. Right in my arms.”

And that’s when you realized how terrified he was. The fear that you could now read so clearly in the force around him made your eyes sting with tears. He was one of your closest friends. Since you’d met you’d gradually grown closer, bonded by good things and terrible things as well. 

You had some trouble adjusting to how different the clones were, but over time that difference had disappeared more and more. And the closest moment you ever shared was after the Citadel. When Fives had collapsed from exhaustion and grief - over Echo - in the hangar bay and you couldn’t think of another possible reaction other than hugging him. It’d been the first hug you’d shared and other than one - when you finally woke up on Umbara - also the last. 

“Oh Fives.”, you sighed, reaching over to put our hand on his gloved one. He seemed unprepared for the contact but took a hold of your hand in his larger ones anyway.

“Umbara was a whole different level of terrible. It’s normal for that to take a while to process. But the important thing is that we’re not there anymore. We made it out.”

Not everyone made it. But that was a fact you couldn’t acknowledge in the moment. It would just make everything worse.

“I know. But… I just somehow can’t get over it. So many terrible things happened and yet that’s the one thing that keeps coming back almost every night.” You nodded, deep in thought, wondering what he was trying to express.

Fives refused to meet your eyes, his eyes fixed on your hand instead when he finally continued to speak.

“I don’t mean to cross a line or somethin’, this idea was dumb, but, I remembered that when I felt like this after the Citadel… you made it better. Which is a weird thing to ask but-” It took you a moment, brows pulled together, head tilted slightly before you understood.

You finally understood what he tried to express.

“Fives, did you come here to ask for a hug?” He grimaced, pulling his hand back from yours.

“I told you it was stupid.” He was ready to stand up and leave. But you huffed in protest.

“Fives, asking for a hug isn’t dumb. Why didn’t you just ask?”

He didn’t answer. But the skeptical, confused look that showed in his eyes was hint enough.

“Wait… it’s not exactly a thing to ask for among your brothers, is it?”

“No, not really. I mean all relationships to non-clones are strictly regulated. We’re soldiers. I guess we’re not supposed to… need stuff like this.”

You sighed again, hand brushing across your face.

“It’s a bit complicated with the Jedi as well but… it should be a normal thing. Just… don’t ever feel like you can’t ask okay?”

He nodded, a bit embarrassed still. A feeling that fleeted and turned into sheer panic when you suddenly stood up and walked up to him, holding out your hand again. Heat crept into Fives’ cheeks, glad you probably didn’t see that as he took your hand and helped him up.

And then, finally, you moved onto your tiptoes and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck. Almost instinctively, the clone wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, pulling you closer into him. 

You smiled a little, feeling him exhale and bury his head in the crook of your neck, beard scratching slightly across your collarbone. 

You rested your head against his shoulder, just standing there together for a few minutes, bodies curved into one another. And to your relief, you could feel the rigidness of the ARC-Trooper fade at the touch of your body, letting him lean on you and relax. “You know what, remind me to make you take off your armor next time you need a hug. This Plastoid is kriffing cold.”

[atiny-piratequeen]

Against the Tide: Tenth Voyage (Ch. 10)

Pairing : Poly Ot8

Genre: Heavy Angst, Action, Fantasy, Smut, Fluff

Rating: 18+

Tags: DemonPirate!Au, Supernatural, Eventual Poly Relationship, Violence, Blood, Elemental Powers, Past and Modern Day AU, Mythical Creatures, Character Death, Slow Burn, Happy Ending Endgame

Chapter Specific Tags:  Repeated Main Character Death, Reincarnation, Emotional and Psychological Manipulation, Graphic Blood and Violence, Brief Mentions of Mental Health Concerns

Chapter WC: 10k+

A/N: There could be tags added later, especially if there’s something I write that potentially triggers my readers. The last thing I want is for that to happen, so please don’t hesitate to give me feedback if there’s something I write here you’d like me to tag.

**A/N: Thank you Riza @not-majestic-bluenicorn​ for helping me out with the tarot card readings, ilysm

Taglist moved to the bottom of the work. If you’d like to be added to the taglist for this or my other works, feel free to fill out the form here after reading the full post. AO3

Taglist

← Last Voyage  Next Voyage →

The sound of Seonghwa’s screams from that night still haunts the crew.

They’re fortunate, Yunho thinks.

Though, he’d never say it aloud and Geb is kind enough not to call him out on the bitter, spiteful thoughts when they arise.

Anyway, the crew was fortunate.

Most of them are lucky that all they heard was the screams of their First Mate- no -their new Captain. The crewmembers below the deck and the ones unconscious didn’t have to deal with the sight of their captain, the one who held them all together, breaking down.

The fear on his face. The defeat. The pain. The terrified, yet resolute tone in his voice.

All that haunted them was the screams of the ex prince, which, coupled by an explosion of ice, creating a fortress of frost around them, was a beacon in the night for what had happened.

Yunho had to drag him out of the ocean. Nearly got stabbed doing so. It took an hour of Seonghwa diving into the depths, freezing everything around him and reaching fruitlessly before Yunho snatched him back to the surface.

He’d nearly been frozen and stabbed for his efforts and the crew watched on as Yunho pinned Seonghwa to the deck, thick vines keeping him still as he screamed and thrashed.

Just behind him, Mingi stood back with an unconscious San in his arms. Wooyoung was at his side, eyes wide as tears rolled down his cheeks while Yeosang leaned over the taffrail, emptying the contents of the dinner he’d worked hard to make into the ocean. Jongho still lay unconscious under the broken planks of wood in the hold, sea water soaking his clothes and Whiro noticeably absent from his skin for once.

“LET ME GO! LET ME GO! HONGJOONG! HONGJOONG!” Seonghwa screamed, his voice raw and cracking as he thrashed in Yunho’s arms.

None of them had ever seen the level headed ex prince fall apart like this. He bore his teeth at him, trying to wrestle his way free, freezing parts of his body to try and get Yunho to let him go. The sight of the raven-haired immortal coming apart at the seams broke everyone’s heart and Geb gently whispered into Yunho’s ear so he could settle Seonghwa down the hard way.

They weren’t getting anywhere like this.

So Yunho sighed and created a small flower near Seonghwa’s head, tears slipping down his cheeks. Seonghwa looked up at him, eyes bloodshot from crying.

“H-Hong-”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Small spores wafted out of the flower and slowly Seonghwa’s thrashing slowed down. He felt his body grow heavy as Yunho put his head in his lap, crying quietly as Seonghwa’s pitch black hair slowly went back to it’s natural blonde color.

“N...o...Hongjoong...putois…”

Yunho wished all that haunted him was the screams, and not the guilt of not being strong or fast enough to keep him from disappearing. That Hongjoong’s quivering, terrified voice didn’t knock around his head as much as the anguished howls of Seonghwa.

Unfortunately, that was all it was. Wishful thinking.

-x-

- I finally get what you've been saying

Now that we're knee deep side by side

The storm clouds are circling above us

As we struggle against the tide-

-x-

There are intricacies that come with warfare, the king knew these well.

Though, even he may admit that this was an... unfortunate miscalculation.

Getting to a point in Hongjoong’s mind where he was distracted enough for him to actually affect his powers was leagues more difficult than he’d ever let anyone know. For as much as he antagonized the pirate, the dragon inside would admit he had much more mental fortitude than he originally gave him credit for.

Stupid mortals and their useless sense of ‘love’.

Though, technically, he wasn’t a mortal anymore.

Whatever.

Regardless of what the little captain was classified as, the fight with the one called ‘Priscilla’ had left him in such a panic that the dragon was able to break through, tap into the core of their-no, his -powers, and snatch it from under him while he was fighting for everyone’s lives.

Disgusting.

He figured he’d distract the foolish captain long enough for him to kill him mentally and rid himself of the beast.

Oh, and sink that damned ship and rip it’s crew to pieces. For fun.

He’d never expected a curse to be placed on him because of his intervention. Not only did the she beast strip the captain of all of his knowledge of who he was and his crew, she had inadvertently banished the dragon to the farthest recesses of the captain’s mind.

As the king stood, he couldn’t see light in either direction.

He had to get back to the front so he could take control. He had to break out before the captain remembered and broke the curse. He could handle Pricilla later.

With a scoff, he turned into his dragon form and snorted.

A minor misstep. He could outsmart some stupid immortal wannabes and that grotesque bastard child.

Then, he’d create havoc.

For fun.

And revenge.

But mostly fun.

-x-

-I feel your grip firm on my shoulder,

But this fear in my head won’t subside,

They patiently circle around us,

As we hold out… -

-x-

“Do you see those men there? They hold your entire fate in their hands.”

Hongjoong panted, blood running into his eyes as his hair was pulled back roughly. On the other side of a clear glass bubble, he could see seven men in a room. There was a tall blonde man pacing. Every time his boot touched the floor, it would freeze before the ice melted.

There was a taller man holding onto two smaller men who were crying.

Something was said and the blonde turned suddenly, his body rigid. A buffer man stood between him and the group, reaching for something on his person. The blonde man crossed the room and took his hand, the tips of his fingers frosting around the man’s wrist as he glared at him, saying something.

Hongjoong couldn’t hear a word either of them were saying, nor did he care. He pivoted on his heel, elbowing the monstrous woman behind him in the face before he broke off into a run.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he figured if he ran far enough, screamed loud enough-

Something hard slammed into his back, knocking him forward. He rolled, his clothing soaked by the water as he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. When he looked up, a rabid dog was staring him down.

He screamed in terror and backed away, eyes wide.

Who was she? Why was she doing this to him? Where even was he?

Fangs sunk into his thigh before he was dragged back towards the woman, kicking and screaming.

A dark smile came to her face.

“Get real comfortable, little pirate. With how your sorry crew looks, you’ll be stuck here with me forever and ever~ You’re here because of them, at the very least, you should know that they’re the reason you’re here.”

-x-

- Oh, father why have they forsaken me?

You warned me that they would,

The curse is passing down the bloodline,

Misspoken and misunderstood.-

-x-

“Seonghwa, all I’m saying is we can try it out-”

“We’re not calling that woman!”

Jongho pursed his lips, annoyed at the older immortal raising his voice at him, while Wooyoung flinched and whined behind him, sitting with Yeosang in Yunho’s arms as the two of them cried.

“What else are we going to do? How else do we start? We don’t even know what happened to Hongjoong fully or where that witch took him!” the Maori man snapped back.

Seonghwa paced like a caged animal, but eventually scoffed, admitting temporary defeat.

“Fine. Call her.” He hissed. Jongho eyed him for a moment before reaching for the feather dangling from his hip. Whiro curiously shifted along his skin, but Jongho focused on the feather, holding it out in front of him.

“Hyuna!”

Seonghwa and the others stood and waited.

And waited.

And waited….

And...waited….

“Why...isn't she coming?”

Seonghwa’s nostrils flared in anger before he barked out a laugh.

“Oh, look at that. She’s not coming . You wait around for her and we’ll never find Hongjoong. Right now, we can start by finding out who fucking stole that fucking staff.” He hissed.

The temperature in the room drastically lowered as ice cold grey eyes scanned over everyone in the group.

They lingered on some more than others.

“It wasn’t me. Don’t stare at me like that.” Mingi’s voice was hurt as he looked down at the floor. Seonghwa’s jaw ticked.

“I didn’t say it was you.” He stiffly informed him.

“You didn’t have to. I was raised around Bella Rose, I know an accusatory look when I see it. It wasn’t me.” He muttered, his voice quieter. San noticed the clench of his fists and the tears welling up in the boatswain’s eyes and moved to place a hand on his back. Seonghwa clicked his tongue, keeping his eyes on the duo. Yeosang began to hiccup through his sobs in Yunho’s arms, so the man stood, catching Seonghwa’s attention.

“I don’t...think that should be our top priority. Not right now.”

“I disagree. One of you stole the staff, and Hongjoong is gone now. That seems pretty damn important. Which one of you did it?” He spat, malice dripping from his voice. Even Jongho flinched back, his brows pulled together. Whiro shifted along his skin and tutted before lifting upwards.

Jongho moved to reel him in, but he was met with more than the usual amount of resistance and Whiro’s voice in his head.

‘For once, trust me, kid.’

Jongho pursed his lips and let Whiro form into a mirror image of himself aside from the blonde hair, red eyes, and ta moko. He rolled his shoulders and looked at Seonghwa, who looked unimpressed and fed up before anything even left the fragmented god’s mouth.

“If you’re going to talk shit, save-”

“Nah, you’ve said enough the past few days. Shut up and listen for once, prince.”

Seonghwa snarled, but Whiro ignored him, keeping his thick arms crossed as he spoke. Even Jongho looked on curiously as Whiro continued.

“What exactly are you gonna do with that information? Hm? Hurt one of them? Kick them out? Is that what the old captain would have wanted?”

Seonghwa looked taken aback-and he wasn’t the only one.

Seven pairs of eyes watched Whiro in shock.

“Whoever stole it doesn’t matter right now. What matters right now is whether you like it or not, you’re the captain now. From what I understand after Jongho and I got knocked the fuck out, you were told to protect this ship and it’s crew. Last time I checked, this temper tantrum you’re throwing isn’t protecting shit, not even yourself.”

“Am I not allowed my hurt? My anger? Hongjoong was...Hongjoong was my first love, he saved my life-”

Whiro rolled his eyes.

“Listen, I’m stuck here in this body for all of eternity and I feel what he feels,” He jabbed his thumb in the direction of a shocked Jongho before he kept talking. “Get your shit together. Stop your sniveling, and start being the leader the shortstack knows you can be. The kid is strong. He may have lost this, but at one point, he had eight spirits inside of him and didn’t fall completely to ruin. Instead of doing the exact opposite of what he said to do and tear this crew apart, wipe your nose, wash your face for fuck’s sake, and go find the shortstack. He needs you, all of you. It’s been a week and we’re still in Greece. I’ll give you a day or so longer to get those tears out before I expect all fucking seven of you to quit bitchin’ and start searchin’. Do I make myself clear?”

Seonghwa blinked before he ran a hand through his hair.

“Gods, is it that bad that the literal God of Evil is trying to help?”

“Yes, actually.” Whiro responded without missing a beat, drawing an involuntary laugh out of some of them.

“I’m stuck to Jongho for all of eternity. I’d rather not to deal with all of these stupid ass gushy ass emotions normally, but since I have no choice now, I’d rather we pull ourselves together. Oh, and when I get my hands on that serpentine bitch, you can all step aside. I’ll take care of her myself.”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes, but turned to the group, sighing as he bowed himself down.

“I...I’m sorry.” There was more sitting on his tongue, but that was all he said for the time being, turning to leave. Once the sound of his boots on the wood retreated down the hall and out of earshot, everyone let out a relieved sigh, turning to look over at Whiro.

“Holy shit. You helped us.” San muttered.

Whiro cocked a brow.

“Helped you? Please. I’m just tired of the back and forth and even ol’ Jongie boy here is getting affected by all this more than I’d like, for us to share a body. I helped myself, nothing more.” It was a lie, and all of them knew that much, but no one called him on it. Before he disappeared into Jongho’s skin, however, he did have something else to add.

“Though, my words will only light the fire under his ass and distract him for so long. You all seem content not knowing who took it, and that’s strange to me, but whatever. I suggest you all find the pipsqueak captain before blondie starts getting in his own head again. I can’t assure you all I can step out of Jongho every time Seonghwa becomes overwhelmed with anguish. I put these emotions in the world, I know their power. You don’t want the ice prince coming after you because most of you won’t be able to stop the rage that kid has inside from this. So find him. And quit feelin’ so damn sorry for yourselves.” With that, Whiro settled back onto the skin of Jongho’s arms.

Everyone glanced at each other before standing to go to their own respective rooms except Yunho, since they had gathered in his room.

As one of them left, his shoulders slumped lower than the others, his heart thundering in his chest.

‘I’m sorry I took it...I’m so sorry, I didn’t know...I didn’t know it would be this way, please forgive me, I just-’

-x-

-We're losing light

And strength of will

The darkened depths beckoning still

And we hold on

Against the tide-

-x-

Dawn pursed his lips.

“The pirates called for you. Should we get going?”

Hyuna lifted her head from the tub of water she was mostly submerged in.

“Can’t. They’re in Greece. If I stepped foot in Greco-Roman territory again, Zeus would surely come down from Olympus himself to strike me down. He’s still bitter I didn’t just accept my role as the harbinger of evil to mankind and then die off like the toy he created me to be. Whatever the boys need me for, I’ll just apologize next time they call on me. I’m  sure it’s nothing. Besides, the last time they called me, I got my ass kicked. They’ll live if I just take a rain check this once.” Hyuna pouted from the tub before sinking back into the water, her inky hair making the water seem like it was pitch black.

Dawn watched her for a moment before humming and turning to sharpen his sickles.

Maybe she had a point.

-x-

-Beneath the storm and left to fight alone

Remember son, you're reaping what you've sown

Under the waves and sinking like a stone

I'm sorry son, you're reaping what you've sown-

-x-

When Lloyd answered the door that one cold night in January, he wasn’t expecting his son on the other side of the door. His lips parted in surprise.

“Jesus it's cold, Lloyd, why is the door op-YUNHO!”

Yunho laughed through his tears as Robin shot out from behind Lloyd, nearly knocking him down as he hugged him tight. His dreads, though graying, were much longer than the last time Yunho saw him, and he couldn’t help the big smile that crossed his face as the sound of thundering footsteps followed by excited screams pierced through the night air.

The smell of sapodilla and of Barbados lilies flooded his nose with the smell of cerasee clinging to Robin’s clothes.

Before he knew it, he was crying, relieved to see all four of his parents in good health.

Lloyd observed them with a small smile on his face, before he noticed the men standing just off behind him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Lloyd, one of Yunho’s fathers. My partners will introduce themselves once they’re finished hugging the daylights out of our poor son...though...there seems to be more of you than last time, and I don’t see the captain…?”

Yunho tensed immediately, and it didn’t go unnoticed by his parents. Mei pulled away first, noticing the wobble of Yunho’s lip and Valeria cupped his cheeks.

“Ay, lad...what’s wrong baby?”

“I’m...I’m the captain now.” Seonghwa spoke, though he didn’t meet any of their eyes. Robin pulled away, as well, and Yunho sighed, rubbing his arm.

“I...I came home because we need some help.” He murmured.

All four of them exchanged a look before Lloyd stepped aside.

“Come inside from the cold, boys. Mei will brew some tea, and you can explain what happened.”

-20 years Later-

Mingi sat in silence as he sat in a cathedral. He had taken some time away from Yunho’s island to visit another, picking up a few books to read from a shop on curses and the like. Was it the most ideal place to be reading something like this? Most likely not, but he had to do what he needed to.

The crew had stayed near the Caribbean Islands, doing their absolute best to find somewhere, anywhere to start.

It was stifling, with tensions so high. Some members from the original crew had either moved on or passed away trying to help Seonghwa and the others locate Hongjoong, and the blonde captain had been adamant about not bringing new members in.

There...was no love lost between the seven of them, Mingi liked to think, but he’d be lying if he said Seonghha hadn’t put up a wall between all of them and himself. After Whiro put him in his place, he seemed to mask his true anguish and hurt, and they all could tell it was taking a toll on him, though he always put on and front when he was around them.

He was the leader. The captain. He had to keep himself together, lest they all fall apart. Hongjoong trusted him to do this much. To protect them. If that meant suppressing his own emotions for the betterment of the crew, so be it. It wasn’t like it was something he didn’t know how to do already.

He was raised as royalty, next up for the throne and title of a king. Kings couldn’t show any cowardice and weakness. Seonghwa could hide away his emotions well enough.

Though, that was a lie. They could all see it. The chips in his icy exterior. The tremble in his lips when he kissed them. The slight, barely there crack in his voice when he went to reassure them. Seonghwa was falling apart and masking it with layers of ice, but none of them had the heart to call him out.

Not when they were falling apart too.

An air of failure and guilt clung to them and no amount of sweet words from Yunho’s parents could hold it back for too long.

Speaking of parents...

Mingi’s fingers trembled on the page. Right. He had to return to the island soon. Lloyd had passed away of natural causes from his old age and they would be having a celebration of life for him tonight.

The four of them all but put a pause on their work to help out with locating Hongjoong, studying everything from mythology, to curses themselves.

For two decades, they tirelessly helped them, and Mingi was forever grateful. Honestly, it was all four of them that kept the boys from completely losing hope. From the Irish, foul-mouthed tongue lashings they (lovingly) got from Valeria, to Robin taking their mind off of it with teaching them capoeira, to Mei gently telling them Korean folktales over cups of tea when the stress was too high, and finally, old Lloyd teaching all of them the way of herbal medicine and always lending an ear when they needed to vent.

The four of them had all but become the in-laws to the group, and Mingi was forever grateful.

“You look troubled.”

Mingi jolted, closing his book as a nun walked up to him. Mingi scooted over as she sat beside him, placing her hands on her lap as she looked forward past the pews to stare at the beautiful organ at the forefront of the hall.

He subtly hid the book behind his thigh, clearing his throat.

“I’m sorry, I just needed somewhere quiet to read and-”

“You’ve been staring at that page for half an hour. Either that passage is really good, or you’re troubled.” She laughed lightly. Mingi stared at the side of her face. His brow furrowed.

Why did she seem so familiar…?

“Would you like someone to lend an ear? We have a confessional, or I could just listen.” She offered, kind brown eyes staring into his own. He lowered his gaze to his hands and sighed.

“I’m just...looking for someone close to me. They were taken away and I don’t know if I can find them or where to start.” he muttered. The nun tilted her head before crossing her feet at the ankle, sitting up straighter.

Mingi expected her to mention God, they were in a place of worship, after all.

“I think you should take time to clear your heart and your mind. You’re very troubled and you won’t be able to focus on your objective when you are so conflicted. Life...throws lots of hurdles at you. Take time to catch your breath and don’t be afraid to ask for help. You can be surprised how asking different people for advice will steer you in the right direction. Sometimes you need to take a step back and look at it from a different angle. Remember that, and I hope you find your friend.” She smiled and stood up, waving to Mingi as she turned to leave.

“Wait!”

She paused.

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry if this is...a weird question, but what is your name, Sister?” He inquired. She blinked in surprise before sending him a kind name.

“Mine? My name is Sister Gracie.”

-x-

Seonghwa stood in front of a mirror, looking at his reflection. His jaw was clenched tight as he wiped his eyes. He had to pull himself together. Two decades and they haven’t found him yet.

He looked into his own grey eyes, his voice tense.

“I’m not giving up on you. I’ll never give up on you. I’ll find you, mon petit putois.” he muttered, adjusting the buttons to his shirt.

What he couldn’t tell, in a plane beyond the one he was standing in, was Hongjoong was looking back at him.

Panicked fists slammed against the invisible aquatic wall that separated the two of them.

“Hey! Hey!! I’m screaming at you, please!” Hongjoong looked behind him, finding something slithering in the depths of water behind him. Bubbles erupted from his mouth as he screamed louder, his voice getting raw as he reached desperately for the vision of the blonde man. He pressed his palm to the man’s image, tears in his eyes.

“ Please! I’m screaming, I’m begging! Why, why can’t you hear me?! Help me!”

A thick tentacle wrapped around his waist, pulling him roughly. Hongjoong scrambled, pressing both hands to the barrier. A laugh echoed from behind him before he was snatched back, away from the image of the blonde man.

In the guest room, Seonghwa placed a palm on the cool mirror, eyes downcast.

“I’ll find you. No matter how far you are, Hongjoong.”

-x-

-Beneath the storm and left to fight alone

Remember son, you're reaping what you've sown

Under the waves and sinking like a stone

I'm sorry son, you're reaping what you've sown-

-x-

He can feel it. Every time he dies. Every time he’s reborn and has a different name.

~1668, the first death after the curse was placed on him, he’s  trampled by a horse.

1690, he can feel his throat closing after a fatal allergic reaction.

1712, an accident while trying to help create the first working steam engine.~

Hongjoong feels it all. It doesn’t help, the she-beast likes to toy with him. Sometimes she lets him roam free, in the vast expanse of...wherever he was trapped in. He had no concept of the passage of time anymore while he was in here. Everything felt...stalled and floaty. The woman told him he had been there for almost a century, in her clutches, but he paid it no mind.

That was absurd.

~1734, flash, then it’s gone with a lightning strike.

1756, huddled up for warmth, only to die by the morning from exposure getting lost in the mountains.

1778, blood loss from a carpenter accident. He was a careless man in this particular life.~

Sometimes she leaves him alone. For very long periods of time. He doesn’t know if he prefers that or not. On one hand, her torture was agonizing, between the way she’d wound him, leaving him on the brink of what surely should have been death, but unlike his selves on the outside, he couldn’t die in here.

No, he had to slowly power through the pain, slowly heal in this god forsaken place, and then she’d come back, and start all over.

He envied the other ‘hims’ on the outside. They got to live lives, all of which unfulfilling and mostly in poverty, but they still got to live them, and then they all died on November 7th, only for the piece of his soul to be cast away to another part of the world, into a newborn and reborn once again.

Then the cycle continued. He watched it all from this space. His lives, his deaths, over and over again.

The woman never called him anything other than cruel names and ‘Captain’, though he had no idea of what anymore.

Hell, he was pretty sure he’d forgotten his own name while trapped in here.

~1800, a casualty in the Quasi War.

1822, a fall from a moving locomotive.

1844, a fatal encounter with a wild boar.

1866, a mine shaft collapse.~

When he’s alone for decades at a time, he feels a bit of his sanity slip. Like he’ll never get out of this place. Like he’ll be here for all of eternity. Sometimes, he lays on his back, with his eyes closed for as long as he can, and waits.

Nothing ever happens, but sometimes it's easier to just...exist. Rest his eyes and his tired body. He hasn’t given up. Not yet, anyway, but sometimes it's better for him to just... be.

He’ll never admit to that woman that sometimes he looks forward to her arrival when she comes back from leaving him for so long, just because her presence grounds him into reality.

Or, rather, whatever hellish reality he’s found himself in at her hands.

At her hands, and as he looks out at the bubble she forces him to look at, finding those same seven men. Or, rather, two of them, this time.

They’re in Paris, the one with the dimples has an arm around the other one’s waist, muttering something into his ear. He nudges him before a tender smile comes to his lips and the two share a kiss before disappearing into a hotel room.

The brunette looked away, not sure why he was made to follow these people along though his time here. She always sneered in his ear that they were to blame, that they were the key to getting him out, that they were all happier without him and had forgotten him at this point.

She never showed him the seven of them tirelessly searching for him. He didn’t even know how hard they were working. She carefully picked out the rare moments they took time to themselves to catch their breaths and try and stabilize themselves, painting them as people who didn’t have any sense of urgency or care in the world.

The cook who made large meals with a big smile on his face. The inseparable duo, always attached at the hip, in each other’s space, bringing love and comfort to one another. The tall man with his nose in the books, glasses perched on his nose as he spent days engrossed in his books. The other tall one, filling out his notebooks with whatever hasty, nearly illegible sprawlings came to him as he sat amongst plants. The rugged one with the curious markings on his arms and legs that sometimes shifted and formed some dark being. Hongjoong would be surprised, but he had an aquatic beast breathing down his neck with tentacles for legs and rabid dog heads extending from her waist, so he would be lying if he said he was truly surprised.

The only one that never looked like he was relaxed was the blonde. Pricilla didn’t show him for long, but whenever he was in the background of those visions she’d hand picked for him, he looked like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. An air of guilt and anguish always settled underneath whatever expression he happened to have on his face, and it always made Hongjoong tilt his head and gave him a small flicker of hope.

~1888, a fall during the construction of a new building.

1910, a stage accident during the production of a play.

1932, burned alive saving a child from a fire.

1954, starvation.

1976, a hostage, taken out in an unsuccessful negotiation.~

He’s exhausted. He wonders if Pricilla is too. Doesn’t it get exhausting to do this to someone? Was what happened that led him to this point really that bad?

He watched his soul go into another body, sitting down and watching this one grow up. Quite the rebellious one, this version of himself. From his mullet, to the dark makeup around his eyes and the piercings littering his ears.

The trapped man watched him, grateful Pricilla had chosen to leave him alone for the time being.

He looked at a calendar on the wall behind the other him as he walked by one day, spotting the ‘1997’ on the wall.

Ah, only a year left until he’d die and another incarnation of him would come.

One day, as the other him is looking in the mirror, the trapped soul stands and stares at him. He knows he looks like hell, though he’s grateful Pricilla never showed him what he looked like. Hell, at this point, he wasn’t sure if these versions of ‘himself’ were really him, or if it was all just an elaborate lie.

“I’m right here. I’ve been right here. You’re lucky, living on the outside. You don’t even know I’m here, do you? You can’t see me, they never can.” He muttered bitterly.

The man on the other end paused the application of his makeup, his cut brow twitching.

“I can hear you. I liked it better when you were just some weird, fucked up version of myself in my dreams, though. I have enough on my plate without worrying about if I need to see a shrink for voices in my head.”

He froze.

“You can hear me?! You can hear me, really?!”

The other him narrowed his eyes.

“Jesus, you’re loud. Yes, I can hear you.”

He stared wide eyed at himself and for the first time in centuries, he had a flicker of hope. He wasn’t sure what changed, but for once, he got the fire in his whole body to get up and fight with his whole body once more.

-x-

-You're reaping what you've sown

You're reaping what you've sown

You're reaping what you've sown

You're reaping what you've sown-

-x-

“You still haven’t forgotten the pirate from Delphi?”

Grey-ish blue eyes opened slowly and looked up at a pair that were identical.

“I could have done something, Tem.”

A small hum came from her lips as she crossed her legs and stared at him. She reached over, smoothing down his blonde hair before she pulled him into a hug.

“Why do you cling onto that immortal? He was only with you for but so long.”

“He made an impression. The way he spoke of his family and his crew, it was honestly the most genuine and pure emotions I’ve seen in centuries, and still, I haven’t quite seen anything like it.” he muttered.

He was met with a small hum.

“So, centuries later, several incarnations of him later, and you still want to step in and help? Is it because of Hyacinthus?”

He pursed his lips, looking down at her collar, biting his lip.

“I-”

“He’s gone, Apollo. But I see this means a lot to you. Father and Uncle have their hands tied with their...ugh...escapades, so I doubt you’d find much resistance. I can...I can try and help you. I hate to see my brother like this.”

Blue eyes widened and he pulled back.

“Artemis-”

“I said I can try . You and I, there is only but so much that we can do. This may even require you to step out from Olympus, out from our domain, and into the domain of other deities. Some of them may not be too privy to actually help out. Our father hasn’t left the greatest of impressions on the other sky deities and they tend to run the show. But, I will try for you.” She kissed the top of his head and sat back.

“We should get started. We should look into this curse a bit more. If it was our...darling cousin that put the curse on the man, I wouldn’t be surprised if she put in some hidden stipulations.”

He stood, eyes determined.

“Right, then. Let’s get to work.”

Artemis smiled and led him out of the room.

“Let's start by talking to the Fates. Maybe they can tell us where we can start.”

-x-

-We're slowly losing ground

And hope is harder to maintain

When all the prayers we've prayed

Feel lost like tears in the rain-

-x-

The king snarled, exhaustion pulling at his form.

Really, how fucking long had he been there? Was he even going in the right direction? Which way was up or down?

The heavens themselves wouldn’t save that damn beast of a woman when he got to the front of the pathetic pirate’s mind. He swore it on his own pride and honor, he would revel in breaking her in half.

Then those incompetent ass pirates. He was certain if they had gotten to the kid sooner and broke whatever curse was inflicted, he would’ve already been at the forefront of the captain’s mind once more.

Instead, he was here, swimming in the inky blackness of this idiot’s mind, unsure if he was even-

“-member me?”

He blinked, hearing an echo. His scaled head snapped up, pausing momentarily.

Was that…?

“I have dreams, yes. Of past ‘mes’, I guess. You’re really kind of persistent.”

“I’m sorry, I just...I need you to remember fully who you are, who we are. You’re the first one of me that can see and hear me. I think maybe...Maybe we can break the curse?”

“Sounds like a lot of work.”

The king’s fangs glinted as he looked towards the sound of the voices.

“F i n a l l y.”

-x-

-The waters pulling down

The moon's eclipsing the sun

The ending that we knew would come

Has finally begun-

-x-

Joong wasn’t much.

He lived his life poor and disinterested in life. His only friend was a fortune-telling, self proclaimed sun witch, and his only real interest in life was his motorcycle.

Nothing more, nothing less.

The dreams that plagued him since he was a child, of past lives and their subsequent deaths, none of it interested him.

They, like this persistent voice in his head for the past year, harping on a ‘curse’ or whatever, were just an inconvenience. He hadn’t heard from the ‘other him’ in a while, so maybe it was just an illusion from staying up late too many nights or something.

Either way, all this talk of mythical creatures and curses was truly a bother.

“Ah, you’re here. I was wondering when you’d show up.”

He ducked under the beaded curtain of the fortune telling shop, sitting across from a gorgeous woman with feline eyes.

“I told you I’d come, Siyeon. It is your birthday.”

Siyeon smiled softly and reached for his hands, gently rubbing her thumbs along the back of them.

“Yeah, but you never let me read your cards.”

Joong shrugged a shoulder, running a hand through his sandy brown mullet.

“Yeah, well. Happy birthday, how do you want me to do this?” He inquired. She laughed and pulled out a beautiful deck of tarot cards.

“You can shuffle the cards. Pull three of them and place them in a triangle formation and flip them one by one for me, okay?” the witch seemed excited about him participating, so he sent her a small, kind smile. He didn’t quite believe in any of this, but Siyeon was someone incredibly important to him, so just this once, he would go along with it.

He shuffled the cards, humming a birthday song to Siyeon while he did so before he followed her instructions and plucked three of the cards from three different sections of the deck, placing them in front of him in the shape of a triangle.

“Okay, flip them.”

Joong nodded and flipped the cards one by one.

Siyeon’s smile immediately fell.

A Reversed Emperor, The Tower, and the Three of Swords.

“Well that doesn’t look pleasant.” Joong tried to tease, but Siyeon’s expression didn’t crack. She looked up at him, brows pinched together. Joong shifted in his chair, the chains attached to his leather pants jingling from the move.

“Well? You gonna tell me what my fortune is, Si?”

“Right...right. Um...First is the Reversed Emperor. This is normally a symbol of power and being the king of kings, of sorts but um...reversed, there seems to be a lot of turmoil within you. You don’t have as much control as you’d like to believe you do, and it’s left you with a fake sense of safety and security.” She stared at the card before looking towards the second one.

“The Tower...there is chaos brewing for you, Joong. Chaos and destruction, and soon, something will happen that will absolutely turn your whole world upside down. The last, the Three of Swords, means heartbreak of some form is coming. It can be interpreted as something to do with the relationships you have, but it also can be in reference to some kind of terrible pain and suffering.”

“Well, that sounds welcoming.” Joong hummed, shrugging a shoulder. Siyeon looked at him, her face conflicted.

“I-”

“Hey, it's alright. Maybe your cards just don’t like me today.” He teased. Siyeon opened her mouth to tell him that wasn’t how it worked, but he put a hand over hers, sending her a disarming smile.

“Hey, it’s your birthday. Don’t worry so much about this stuff right now. I finally let you read my cards, so let’s go out to eat or something.” He offered. Siyeon resisted the urge to scold him and tell him to take what she had read more seriously, to caution himself, but instead, she only nodded and stood from her table.

“You’re taking me to the Latin place down the street, right?”

“Only the best for my best witch. See what I did there?”

“Because I’m a witch, hardy harr, let’s go nerd.”

-x-

“What do you mean there was a curse placed on him?! How long was it gonna take before you found me?!”

“We tried days after it happened! You didn’t respond!”

Hyuna paused, staring at Yeosang in surprise before she squinted.

“Wait...in Greece…?”

“Yes!”

“HE’S BEEN GONE FOR THAT-” a hand covered her mouth and she nearly bit San, eyes narrowing at him. He sent her a dirty look, wiping his hand off on his jeans before he looked at Dawn.

He was the calmer of the two of them, so they’d get answers from him.

“Hyuna can’t step foot in the Greco-Roman territories. Zeus would skin her alive. Since you all were in Greece when you called on her, she didn’t come for her own safety. And I imagine because of her not responding that time, none of you called on us again until right now?” the weasel spirit inquired.

Wooyoung, San, and Mingi shook their heads. The three of them had stuck together this time.

Somewhere at the turn of the 20th century, Seonghwa had suggested they start splitting up to try and find Hongjoong, since all seven of them looking in the same spot in such a vast and ever changing world was...impractical, at best. Downright idiotic at worst.

It made sense, but all of them knew that was the kindest way Seonghwa could tell them he couldn’t stand looking at some of them as much as he could anymore. They had begun to see the cracks once more. The barely concealed tick of his jaw when he thought no one was looking. The way he sometimes scanned their group when they were together, silently hoping whoever took it would come forward.

At the very least, he needed to know who did it. Whiro be damned.

Speaking of, he and Jongho had become exceptional trackers, which came as no surprise to the group. After all, Jongho had tracked down Hongjoong with the minimal information and tech that he had from before, so this was progressively getting easier.

He just needed to be faster. He’d found Hongjoong once, the last time, but by time he got to the city he felt Hongjoong was in, he could only stand by in wide-eyed shock as the sound of a gunshot rang out into the night.

He didn’t tell the others that part. He and Whiro would bear that one alone.

Regardless of their failures, they often grouped up on the 22nd year, to try to fruitlessly put together the pieces they needed to find him this time before his birthday passed and they inevitably lost their opportunity once more.

It was 1998 now. The 22nd year. He’s birthday was in a week and he’d die once more if they didn’t find him.

Hyuna frowned and looked at her box on her hip.

“I don’t have any spirits for searching, but I can find some. For...y’know, the next time.” She cringed. The boys did as well before hearing the door to the loft they were temporarily staying in open.

Seonghwa must have come home.

Hyuna gauged the looks on their faces and cringed.

“Right, then. I imagine this won’t be a good look for me to be here if that’s how all of you are looking at me. Dawn and I will go and I’ll get back to you as soon as I find a dog spirit suited for the job. I’m...I’m sorry.” She bowed her head down and the two of them disappeared as soon as the door opened.

Seonghwa stared at the trio for a moment before pointing behind him, his voice having lost nearly all of it’s usual sass and coyness.

“Come, I brought food.”

The three of them exchanged a look before trudging out of the room.

-x-

“Apollo, you really are impressive.”

Alistair, or rather, Apollo, wiped sweat from his brow and looked up from his spot on the floor before Hera, blood running down his temple as he tossed the head of some beast at her feet.

“Will you help me?”

“I haven’t seen you so determined to do anything since Hyacinthus’ death. And even Kaliopel is helping out-”

“I spoke with the Fates, I’ve spoken to Aunt Persephone and convinced Uncle Hades to offer up assistance in locating where the soul goes...even Nana Styx offered to pacify my father. I just need your help this once.”

Hera arched a perfectly curved brow.

“And if I say no?”

“I assure you, I can find someone else who will help me in my plight. This could be your chance to get rid of me, but if not-”

“I’m listening.”

Apollo exhaled, looking at the sun disk charm in his palm. He had retrieved it from the sea shortly after Hongjoong disappeared into the depths all those moons ago.

“I offer up half of my godhood for your assistance. All I ask is your assistance in distracting my father and for your aid in my wife and I finding him. It’s too late this time for us to intervene, but I think a soul toiling around in this cycle without the acceptance of the gods is already means enough for someone to step in. If he is out of our domain, I shall go to him. I just ask that you help me, this once. You’ll never see me again afterwards.”

Hera looked at him in genuine surprise.

“All this running, and it’s not for another consort?”

“No. It’s to break the curse no one authorized my cousin to make. Even Uncle Poisiden doesn’t seem to recall giving Scylla permission to do such a thing. It has caused conflict between him and Uncle Hades.”

Hera stared at him for a long while, looking at the offering he’d so graciously tossed at her feet. She tutted and stood, her sandaled feet being the only sound in the room as she descended the stairs to her throne. She plucked a peacock feather from her robe and pressed it to Apollo’s forehead.

“Get up off of your knees. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but your words and determination have appealed to me. I shall take part of your godhood in exchange for my assistance, but it shall be restored in full if you can complete your task. I will only help you once. If he dies again, you’re on your own.” She warned him before humming.

“I’ll even see about getting you some extra assistance.”

Apollo perked.

“Extra?”

“Don’t get too excited. It won’t be easy. We’ll see how determined you are. Go speak to Mnemosyne and her daughter Klio and refresh yourself with what you have missed. Then go.”

Apollo nodded and stood, a resolute look on his face.

“Thank you, Hera.”

“Tell anyone I was kind to you and I’ll find a way to kill you myself. Now go.”

Without another word, the Sun God turned on his heel and left, looking at the sun disk in his palm.

There was a lot of work to be done.

-x-

-You're reaping what you've sown

It's finally begun

You're reaping what you've sown

I'm sorry son, you're reaping what you've sown

You're reaping what you've sown

You're reaping what you've sown-

-x-

“JOONG! JOONG HOLD ON, PLEASE!”

The biker looked towards the sky, his body growing numb as he felt Siyeon’s hands shakily cup his face. Somewhere off to the side, his motorcycle lay in pieces.

So this was it? A car collision?

Ugh.

“Joong! Joong please!”

He knows Siyeon is yelling, but all he can hear is static. Above her head, he can see the sad reflection of himself, looking down at him.

Oh, so that’s where he was.

He stared at it for a long time before blinking slowly, letting out a terse laugh.

“Don’t have such a horrible look on your face. It’s only another life, right? You looked so hopeful. Find yourself again.”

Siyeon’s brows pinched together in confusion, but the other him’s eyes grew.

‘Find yourself again.’

In the depths of the eighth sea, between the planes of this world and the next, the captain grits his teeth and nods, swimming away from his dying form.

He couldn’t give up. It was a slow time coming, but he couldn’t give up. He wouldn’t let her win. Hell, he had even made a breakthrough with himself, something he couldn’t fathom happening before.

He was close. He was close to doing... something .

The king was also getting closer.

‘Pricilla’ had chosen to leave him alone for the first few years of his next life, it was nothing extraordinary. He was an orphan, lonely just like he had been for all sixteen of his lives before this one.

Everything changed in 2008.

“Melody, look!”

He swam to the edge, peering out.

What is this? Someone noticed him in the orphanage?

No one ever noticed him before.

“Hey there, buddy. Do you wanna come home with us? You and your siblings?”

The child frowned and looked at his feet, a small beret hiding most of his hair.

“I don’t have siblings.”

The massive man sent him a smile, tucking his hair behind his ear and as the spirit watched on, he could see he had lots of tattoos.

“You do now. If you’d like to come with us, Hongjoong.” He offered. The ten year old blinked.

“My name..isn’t…”

“George is a bit boring, don’t you think? I like Hongjoong better. It means you’re the center of the whole world, y’know.”

Hongjoong looked up at him, then the woman standing behind him who sent him a gentle smile as three other children clung to her dress, staring at him in anticipation. They looked desperate to get out of the orphanage and have a family.

A happy family.

Hongjoong smiled shyly and walked up to the grey-ish blue eyed man, gently squeezing the little harbor seal plushie he kept with him at all times. He stepped in front of the man, shifting from foot to foot.

“You won’t...you won’t throw me away, will you, mister? Not me and my friend Angel, will you?” He inquired, hugging the seal tighter. The man shook his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Hongjoong. Do you accept? Will you come with us?”

Hongjoong paused for only a second longer before he nodded, all but jumping into his arms with a wide smile.

The tall man’s arms closed around him and he smiled, picking him up before picking up one of the other children.

She stared at Hongjoong with wide eyes before smiling softly, her hair up in a ponytail.

“My name is Suzuka. I guess you’re my little brother now?”

Hongjoong nodded eagerly.

“Yes! My name is George-ah no...d-dad said my name is Hongjoong!”

The spirit of the captain watched on with tears in his eyes and disbelief.

Even he didn’t remember his name anymore, but somehow, when this man appeared, he felt a familiar sense of home and warmth when he uttered the name to the child.

The captain watched the child and his family (that word felt so new to him. Family. He hadn’t had a family in ages) grow together. He expected the worst. Expected the tattooed man and his wife to be demons. That had to be it, there was no way he’d have a happy life when the sixteen leading up to this point were so miserable.

They...never treated the four of them with anything other than the purest form of respect and love the captain can remember. He watched on, as the mother sang lullabies and told them stories before bed. As their father taught them how to play music, tattooed fingers working over a guitar, or the keys to a piano.

This...was honestly such a happy and energetic life.

He had friends and family. He smiled every day, got to perform on stages.

Hongjoong...was happy. For the first time in centuries, he was truly happy.

Years later, Pricilla returned, wrapping her limbs around him.

No, no, no, he couldn’t let it end. He couldn’t let the best version of himself die again.

So he turned and fought with all his might. He clawed and scratched and bit down on whatever he could.

No more, he was tired. He wanted to live, he just wanted to live!

“Captain! What’s gotten into you, hm? I haven’t seen such fight in your eyes in a while~”

He’d fight. Harder than ever before. He couldn’t let her win.

Hongjoong thrashes, slamming his fists against the wall. He can see himself, just beyond the water, blissfully unaware.

He’s laughing with his friends, celebrating new years as the calendar rolls over from 2019 to 2020. The captain feels his throat close slightly. This was the 22nd year. He was going to lose again, wasn’t he? He was going to lose his life again if the curse wouldn’t be broken.

Sometimes he screams at his own reflection, hoping somehow he can hear himself. The last one, the biker named Joong, heard his voice. So maybe if he could get through to this one…

He needs to know, he has to find out who he is.

“Hello!? Can you hear me?! Hello!” He screams out to the college student.

“Remember them, remember yourself!” He shouts. It's almost funny in a tragic way. He in spirit can’t even remember the names of the men that held his fate in his hands. The seven men from before. He needed them to help unlock his memories. They were the key as much as he was, he thinks.

Golden eyes watch him, impressed. A clawed hand snakes around his body and squeezes his face so hard it hurts. He glares at the woman, his lips curled up into a scowl. She tuts at him, shaking her head.

“You’ve been fighting for so long, Captain. Wouldn’t it be easier to give up? They look close to calling it quits. How could they not? Centuries without their precious leader, their precious lover-” She spits the word out like a curse, but Hongjoong only pushes past her, swimming to the opposite side of the vast space. He can see the men, six instead of seven this time.

“You want to give up on him?!” Seonghwa snarled. Mingi’s nostrils flared in anger as he stood nearly chest to chest with the ex prince.

“I didn’t say that! I’m saying you need to slow the fuck down and breathe for a bit. None of us have gotten anywhere like this. We’re tearing ourselves apart like this!” He hissed. Seonghwa grit his teeth, ice frosting over his fingers as he glared at him.

“None of this would even be happening if-” He stopped himself short, clenching his fists. Mingi glared at him.

“If what? If someone didn’t steal the staff? You keep bringing it up, you keep looking at me different than the others. You still think it’s me!”

Seonghwa lowered his gaze, but didn’t deny the accusation. Mingi clenched his fists so hard it hurt, before he raised his voice.

“I didn’t do it! How many times do I have to tell you I didn’t steal it?! Even if I did, do you think I wouldn’t have come clean by now?!”

“I never said you did steal it!” Seonghwa barked.

“You didn’t have to!”

The two of them began to argue and Jongho stood, letting out a sigh.

“Fuck this, we’re going for a walk.” He grumbled, sliding on a leather jacket. Yeosang watched him in concern before standing to retreat into the kitchen, five fox tails swaying behind him as he began cooking. Yunho sighed and laid on the floor out of the way. He was too tired for this today. Geb rumbled in silent agreement while Wooyoung shook in San’s grip.

“Cheese, c’mon boy.” Jongho beckoned and a black and tan Jindo ran up to him, nuzzling his thigh and letting him put a harness on before he walked out, slamming the door with a bit of force behind him.

Whiro rumbled in his head.

“You got the cloth for the dog, right?”

“Never leave home without it.” Jongho held out a small cloth, dangling it under Cheese’s nose. The dog was given to them by Hyuna as a search dog for Hongjoong. He was still young, but with a bit more training, Jongho was sure he’d be a good supernatural sniffing dog.

At least, he hoped he could sniff Hongjoong out before November. They were running out of time.

Seonghwa and Mingi continued arguing and the captain screamed from beyond the invisible walls, pounding on the wall desperately.

“What are you doing?! Stop it! Stop arguing!! Please!!!! Find him! Find me!”  He screams, watching Seonghwa and Mingi argue. San and Wooyoung are holding each other, eyes downcast. Yeosang is busying himself in the kitchen, distracting himself from the argument. Yunho is curled up on the floor, an arm over his eyes as he keeps himself from intervening.

Hongjoong felt his heart sink, biting his lip as he watched the men. The hand comes back, fingers wrapping around his ankle as she pulls him down like she’d done time and time before.

Deeper, deeper into the eighth sea, the sea of time itself.

Deeper, deeper into the abyss.

Hongjoong reaches out at the wall, tears rolling out of his eyes and washing away with the salt water.

“Please, don’t give up on me.”

-x-

-This sorrow weighs down on my shoulders

This fear is getting harder to hide

You’ll leave me alone in this darkness

Left to hold out

Against the tide-

-x-

Jongho sighs as he bundles up. It was March, so the chill of winter still clung to the air in South Korea. Whiro stretched across his skin under his jacket, providing an extra layer of insulation that none of the locals could see.

Amazing how close the two of them had become.

Cheese tugged at the leash, barking once before pulling him forward. Jongho blinked before jolting in surprise at how persistent the dog was.

“Cheese, what the hell-”

Cheese ignored his protests and pulled the Maori man into a crowd of people. He was about to scold him when he heard a voice.

His heart stopped.

“People want it

People dream about it

It can be different to every individual

It can complete us

Or it can destroy us

And it can change the world

People call it 'treasure'”

Jongho’s lips parted in surprise as he watched a man walk forward on a stage, his hair a sandy brown color in a mullet. He held a microphone to his lips as a few other people and even some kids moved around behind him. It seemed to be a street performance of some kind.

Jongho had his eyes focused on the small brunette the whole time.

“The sound of wind blowing from the horizon

The warmth of the sun hitting the ocean waves

The vibration of sand beating like the hearts of youth

We're at the starting point of this long journey”

“Holy fucking shit, kid.” Whiro’s voice snapped him back into focus as he tugged at his hand. “Get the phone, Jongho! Close your mouth and get the phone!”

Jongho shakily plucked his phone from his pocket and held it up, eyes wide as he recorded, nearly dropping it.

On the stage, the brunette dressed in modern clothing that was clearly supposed to resemble pirate attire, walked around the stage, smiling at some of the kids and some of the other five adults on stage.

“The freezing winds may make us shiver

The heat of the sun may make us thirsty

The vibrations of the sand may swallow us

But we'll never stop.”

The group grew closer to him, and Jongho watched a woman with feline features raise her microphone next, posing prettily.

“Gold~”

A man with piercings through his eyebrow and bottom lip put an arm on her shoulder, speaking into his own microphone.

“Eternal life~”

A blonde man with a distinct accent put an arm around the brunette’s shoulder, grinning at him before he winked at the crowd, sending them a smile that made his eyes crinkle.

“Honor~”

A slightly shorter man with a deeper voice wiggled under the blonde’s arm and grabbed his mic, his accent matching his as he chimed out his own line in a deep baritone.

“Love~”

A person with pink hair with yellow and blue chalk highlights eagerly bounded up behind them, all but throwing themselves onto the brunette’s back in the center, their long legs stretching outward.

“Fame!”

The six of them laughed before the brunette in the center held his microphone up to his lips.

“It doesn't matter what you dream for,

So let me ask you

What.is.your.treasure?” he extended a hand out and for the first time in centuries, as the sound of people clapping around him echoed through his ears, tears slipped down his cheeks.

“Hong...joong…?”

“Will you join us?”

------------Taglist-

@kimnamshiks​ @angel0taiyo​ @atiny-dazzlinglight​ @phasephoenix​ @eversionic​ @itsatinyworld​ @prettyjoongs​ @unatempesta-dipensieri​ @lonely10vely​ @yunhosblackgf​ @not-majestic-bluenicorn​ @moonmin-miya​ @girlcarma​ @kpopthingzsblog​ @delphinium3000​ @just-a-starfruit​ @mireyth​ @skmoonchild​ @queen-of-himbos​ @allthestarsrcloser​ @sneaky-ash​ @im-what-iam​ @thereal-smolchild​ @arohatiny​ @smallfrye​ @atinyteez​ @takitaro​ @hunnibxbe​ 

[starman-john-tracy]

for @asteria-star for her birthdayyyyyyyyyyy <3 <3 <3

“Piss off Scott.” And he would, he really would under the force of that glare, only Star’s teeth are gritted hard enough that it looks like she might crack something, and she’s bent double with her fingers pressed hard against the gross, squelchy patch of red that’s spreading alarmingly quickly over the side of her t-shirt.

So instead of pissing off Scott approaches - looking like he’s trying to keep a snake from biting him; palms up and outward in a show of being unarmed, defenseless.

It doesn't work on her. She could throw Scott Tracy further than she trusts him.

“Keep away from me.” Star warns, low and dangerous, her expression cold. "I’m dealing with it, Tracy, it's none of your concern.” The last thing any of them expected from their trip to NYC was for Star to come back from a groceries errand with what looks like a horrible stab wound instead of the tea, Crocky Crunch cereal and fresh fruit she'd gone for.

She’s pretty sure that she hasn't been followed back here, though. She’d been careful - done several loops around the block, trying to blend into the shadows, to be certain that nothing could be traced back to the Tracy's - because while turning up at the hotel bruised, battered and bleeding wasn't exactly ideal, Star hadn’t really had much of a choice in the matter. She has nowhere else to go, after all. She’d hoped to sneak past both of the Tracy's rooms to her own without alerting them to the situation, but Scott, having chosen exactly the wrong moment to head for the bar downstairs, had scuppered that.

Stupid Scott, she thinks, scowling even as blood continues to seep steadily into the fibres of her shirt. Stupid Scott and his terrible timing.

John's been giving lectures here in NYC and Scott had kindly offered to be their pilot - as, outside of an emergency, neither spacefarer can be cleared to be in control of any vehicle, let alone a plane like the Tracy Two, for 48 hours after touchdown.

“But-” Scott opens his mouth to start to protest, but Star is already strategically shuffling away from him, toward the safety of her hotel room - paid for with Tracy money, she notes, as a sign of trust that she'll keep herself out of trouble or else the GDF will want her back in a cell. 

The only problem with that is that trouble tends to find her.

With blood-slippery fingers, Star swipes the room card shakily through the scanner on her door and shoves her way through it, kicking it shut behind her before Scott can catch up and get his foot in. There’s a hammering of fists on wood on the other side but Star resolutely ignores it, stumbling instead into the small, adjoining bathroom only for her knees to give out and she’s pitched, face first, onto the floor.

Star opens her eyes, hazy and unamused, to find her cheek pressed against cold tile, her fingers curled and bloodied in front of her face. Star bites back a groan, slapping both palms down and heaving herself to more of a sitting position; slouched and awful, before curling around the ragged, awful slash across her waist.

Oh fuck does it hurt.

She’s just peeling up the bloodied mess of her t-shirt when, of course, there’s a soft, quiet rap of knuckles against the bathroom door, and Star almost rolls her eyes because she knows exactly who Scott’s sicced on her.

“You can come in, John.” There’s an edge of what almost might be misery to her tone. This is what she gets for the GDF insisting that if she’s going to be on Earth, their hotel rooms have to be conjoined by the bathroom. So John can keep an eye on her, or the other way round, Star’s not sure at this point.

“What happened?” Tall, ginger and worried asks, ever so gently, already crouching at her side, and Star’s torn between the temptation to burst into tears, or to hit him for making her feel that way. There’s a chunky, green first aid kit in his hand (definitely IR standard, not the hotel’s), so he must have been warned. She watches him languidly, as he sets it down and clicks it open.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She insists, fully aware that it’s not going to be long before she does anyway. John just hums, non-committal and light, pulling a pair of blue plastic gloves on over his fingers with a snap, snap.

“Star.” John’s watching her, quiet and earnest. 

She does her best to crack a weak smile in his direction, but it must fall flat because he looks nothing but soft and serious in return. There’s a creeping fire spreading from her side and wrapping around her ribs, pooling in her lungs and she’s torn between reaching for him, clinging tight and crying and the way her skin itches with the ingrained need to run away.

She stays where she is, frozen and trembling on the cold tiles of a bathroom that's not her own. It’s probably lucky that tile is one of the easier things to clean blood up from.

She would know.

“Hey.” John’s crouching to match her hazy eyeline, fingers hovering close, but not touching. “Think it’d be ok for me to have a look?” He treats her as far more startled bunny in headlights than snake coiled to strike and Star wants to cry; ‘don't you know what I’m capable of! Don’t you know that I could hurt you! Put you and all of your precious brothers in danger just by being near you!’ But she doesn’t, because John’s smart. John already knows all that and he’s here for her anyway.

Her face is an uncomfortably ashy grey and John would rather deal with the horrific amount of blood smeared on her side and fingers and floor before they need to look into transfusion options.

She just nods, stiff and uncomfortable and in pain. Her teeth ache.

“Take your shirt off,” he instructs. If it was anyone else, she’d have made some kind of joke about them having to buy her a drink first, but this is John and he’s about as into that sort of thing as one of the plant’s he’s cultivating up in space would be, so she just sighs and lets him help her peel the sticky, clinging fabric from the wound and up over her head.

Her waist is a weeping wash of red and John pulls a face to show that he’s less than impressed. The long knife wound is clean across and doesn’t look too deep, but it’s raw and juicy with new blood and the skin around it already has a dark wash of purple bruising. John goes a little bit grey-pale at the sight of it - a fresh reminder that they’ve both been on the planet less than 24 hours.

“You ok?” She brings a wobbly hand up to catch on his elbow, just below where he’s rolled his sweater up to his elbows so that she doesn’t get bloody fingerprints on Grandma Tracy’s rough cableknit.

“I’m not the one with the nasty, jagged slice across my stomach.” John points out, dryly, and it’s not like she can deny that. He slides a steadying hand around her back and Star has to resist the urge to hold her breath as he inspects the injury.

She just wants to curl up in bed with a blanket over her head and not exist for a few hours. She wants to go home and that’s an odd feeling to clash with the presence of the careful ginger man who’s rapidly become the definition of the word.

“You didn’t get me strawberries then,” John comments, lightly, as he works. The spaceman’s sweet tooth is practically non-existent until it comes to fruit. She knows his weakness. “This might sting a bit.” He says, though both of them are well aware it’s an understatement.

“Next t-time.” There’s a bit of a wheeze as John swipes a sterile wipe over her stomach, busy cleaning up the wound. She’s got one hand clamped tightly onto his shoulder now, white-knuckled, not quite sure how it had ended up there when she’d been so careful about not getting his sweater bloodied. She hopes he’s not going to have bruises on that pale skin of his in the morning.

She closes her eyes and tips her head back, trying to get better control over her shaky breathing. 

“I’m going to start closing this.” He advises, carefully judging her grimace as he presses the wound closed with his fingers, squelchy and horrible, but ready for him to begin applying steri strips from the first aid kit. It’s a tricky job with her curled over like she is, and when every breath she takes pulls at the skin, so John places a firm but careful hand on her shoulder and pushes her back flat against the tile wall so that he can see what he’s doing.

To his credit, he is, at least, quick about it.

"If I suggest that you should probably get this checked by a hospital,” John adds, gently probing at his fix-up-job of the angry, swollen wound, before he puts a triage bandage over it. “are you gonna try to run for it?"

He'd rather have a second opinion on if this needs more than steri strips to hold it closed, and though he could holo-call Virgil, he'd rather not risk her wrath. She doesn’t dignify the idea with an answer though, instead, angling her cheek away from him and breathing hard through her nose to try and get a handle on the pain.

"I'll compromise," He says, with the tone of a man who knows he'll get what he wants either way, "take some morphine and a full spectrum antibiotic and… uh-ha-ha," he holds up a hand to keep her from interrupting him with protests, "There could have been anything on that, uh… knife?” It looks like a knife wound. “Take both of these and I'll not drag you to A&E by your floppy bangs."

Like he could. Star would almost be amused by the attempted bribery if not for the agony her side is in. Each breath tastes like fire now, and the round circles John presses into her palm are a couple of miniature blessings.

"And I don't have to explain myself to Scott." She's not going to anyway, but it feels like an important thing to add to the bargain before she knocks the drugs back.

"No ones gonna make you talk to Scott." John reaffirms, "but you know he's just worried. He's a big brother, it's what he does best. I imagine he'll have called Virgil to freak out about it though.”

Great. Another worrywart with questions. Just what she needs.

Virgil isn’t so bad though, there’s something calming about the family’s gentle giant, and she’s watched him patch John up more than enough times to trust he knows what he’s doing. Unlike Scott, Virgil’s knows when not to stick his nose into something.

“John…” There’s something else worrying her, nagging at her, something far worse than a stab wound because it could cost her her place aboard Thunderbird Five. “You’re not going to... report this to the GDF, uh, are you?” She’s not supposed to go off on her own, for one, and scrapping with some old familiar faces isn’t going to earn her any gold stars on the behave and we’ll let you stay with John chart.

It was a weird mix of punishment and witness protection and a favor from John’s Aunt Val that put her up there in the first place, and while at first, she’d have done almost anything to be anywhere but, Thunderbird Five… well, John’s grown on her.

“I think the bigger problem will be convincing Scott that it’s none of his business.” John points out lightly, “Dare I ask what happened?” Her face is losing color by the second. It seems important to keep her talking. Can’t be unconscious if you’re talking.

“People don’t like to go down without a fight.’ Star offers him the widest grin she can manage, revealing that one of her front teeth is a little chipped. “Gangs with long-standing grudges especially.”

John shakes his head, slow and disparaging.

“Right. Of course. Think you can stand?” When she nods slowly in confirmation, John gently leavers her upright, waiting patiently the few seconds it takes for her to blink the phosphenes from her vision as the blood drains away from her head. Both her hands find his shoulders again, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“It’s lucky it wasn’t too deep.” John sighs, probably more to himself than anyone. She tilts her head back down to find him looking at the covered patch on her side. “Those bruises do look bad though, it really would be better if someone could check you for internal injury.” He glances at her face from beneath a sweep of golden-ginger lashes, waiting for an answer. When she doesn’t offer him one, he sighs. “I could call Virgil and make him run a scan and-”

“Tomorrow, John.” Her head falls, heavy, onto his shoulder with a bit of a thunk. “I just wanna go to bed.” The last bit comes out as not much more than a whisper.

“Right then, come on.” John slides a supportive arm around her back, careful not to let his fingers brush skin. “Bed it is.”

Star swivels around so she can wrap her arms around his waist and press her face into his shoulder, trying to get as close to the warmth as possible. With John here, she doesn't really want to go back to where she's sleeping. Alone everything seems so… dangerous. The hotel filters in the sounds of the streets, people she doesn’t know in the corridors, threats from every angle. It creeps her out a little, and so she clings to John a little tighter. She starts mumbling again, trying to tell him she'll happily sleep on the floor if it means she doesn't have to be alone.

“Star…? Star.” He sighs, supporting more of her slight weight, shaking his head fondly. “Fine, ok, I’ll stay with you. You’re as bad as Alan, wanting to sleep on the floor. What am I going to do with you?” He laughs, and she feels it verberate through his chest. “Come on, you’re not alone.”

He pulls at her shoulder, half spinning her in an almost dance-like move as he lets her knees crumple and Star finds herself sitting on the plush hotel bed. Very gently, John tugs up the comforter and drapes it over her shoulders, like a blanket-cape.

He vanishes, briefly, to go find her a new, clean t-shirt and a pair of sleep sweats and looks entirely unsurprised when he comes back with one of his own, faded t-shirts in hand, pilfered by her long ago.

"I did wonder where this had gone." He points out, softly amused, as he helps manoeuvre it over her head. "You could at least leave me an IOU so I know what you've… borrowed." It's a kinder word than stolen but John's well aware of the chances of him getting things back once they've made their way into Star’s wardrobe.

Just as well his Father was a billionaire, really. John hardly minds a few things going missing here and there when they're going to a girl who has so very little in the way of her own possessions and no money to her name. He's caught her liberating his bank cards more than once, and it had only prompted a conversation about asking first before he sighs and hands the plastic over.

Privately, John thinks that had she not have wanted to be caught, she wouldn't have been. 

“Sleep.” He advises softly, well away of just how heavy her lids look as he helps her onto her back and makes sure the covers are tucked securely around her. “I’ll be right here, ok?” John waves a book at her, though she has no memory of him picking it up, and the last thing she sees before sleep takes her, is him smiling softly, reaching out to move a lock of stray hair from off her cheek. 

[u-adskinaesthetic]

Pics: Part 1  Val X Reader

Click

Snap

Click

Clean, smooth pictures came into view as you checked your work. Multiple colors are scattered amongst the clouds, making it the perfect setting for your pictures. Inserted in the picture were individuals rollerblading by the coast, giving an exquisite feeling of bravery and amazement to those who saw them. The photo itself was aesthetically pleasing, not to mention the resolution was incredible.

You felt satisfied with your work and took a few more to capture a better image than the last. You knew this article would be one of the most admired in the journalist world.

As part of the newspaper club, it was your responsibility and your peers to gather evidence and intellect for papers that could hopefully inform readers of certain situations. Including good quality photos. It mattered not if it was about gas prices, media, or whether people prefer to stay indoors rather than outdoors, it will be executed neatly and accurately.

For this project, your teacher assigned groups of two. You and your friend were commissioned to write about rollerblading, informing how fun and intricate it is. It was your job to take pictures and write the paper while your friend edited and posted the work.

You expected this assignment to be fun and pretty simple, or so you were lead to believe. But when you refused to take some shots for some pest to insert into your article, you never expected to be given this much trouble.

"Oh come on babe, wouldn't you rather take a couple of quick snips of me and my teammates rather than those losers?"

"I told you not to call me that, and frankly, yes, I would."

You did not know why someone famous like him was interested in getting his picture taken. You knew the hot new skaters called Team X Bladz had given themselves quite the reputation when they came out with cool new tricks and stunts. The media goes wild for them, giving them praise and treating them like their royalty. So you could not grasp why the team leader of this famous group was so relentless in getting his photo taken when you're not even from a well-known organization.

Besides, you didn't even know his name or any of his lackeys. Second, there are a ton of other reporters out there who would love to get his picture taken. And third, you weren't even interested.

Ever since he spotted you taking pictures of bladders rolling around in the skate park, he refused to let you go until you took some shots of him too. Which baffles you honestly, it is not like you were an expert or anything.

"Come on, just a few?"

" I already said no, now please move out of the way."

Annoyed by the guy's determination, you pushed him back far enough to escape from him. Hastily, you tried to move away, though his skates caught you first.

The annoyance in your sigh was not enough to explain how irritated you were. " Look, I already told you I don't need a picture of your team, so why don't you go bother someone who cares."

"Then why not just me?" He grinned tackily, "You won't find anything better, I guarantee it." He pointed to those behind him. You glanced longingly, wanting to capture the moment that inspired you to write.

"Do you even know exactly why I'm taking these pictures?" You questioned. You were getting irritated, enough so that you felt like punching him.

The teenager pretended to think as he answered. "You're a reporter aren't you?"

"How did you-"

He chuckled, "Based on your expression, I must be right."

Darn, you walked right into that one.

The tone in your voice was not enough to hint him to leave you alone. "I don't understand why you're so reluctant to take a picture of me, I mean, I am pretty famous ya know," he swirled around in his blades fancily, trying to impress you.

"I don't care if you're famous, besides you're not the type of aesthetic I'm looking for. I have a vision for this picture, and you, unfortunately, are not in it."

The boy pretended to be hurt by your comments, genuinely not caring about your vision. He instead continued to pester you. " I don't understand this vision you're looking for. What? am I not the perfect candidate?" He teased.

You did not know how long you can withstand idly chatting before blowing him off. The only thing you desired was to take pleasant pictures of people doing cool skits and tricks in the park, but you can't even do that!

"Listen here bud-"

"It's Val, remember it." He clicked his tongue playfully.

"Listen here hotshot, I don't know what your deal is but I'm trying to take a serene picture here, and you moving out the way would be fantastic."

You tried to walk off once more but quickly blocked when Val skated in front of you again. This time you were going to go off on him but were too late to answer back.

"You know that's a pretty camera you got there." He urged toward your device. It was a Nikon FA, a nice model that was gifted to you on your birthday. Before you could even get a word out, he snatched it from your hands and skated from your grasp.

"Hey! Give that back, it is not a toy!" Your fury was unwavering, this was not a game for you.

"Woah there sweetheart, no need to get feisty." He answered haughtily, mocking you in your panicked state. You tried to grab your camera but unfortunately failed, for Val, once again, was out of your grasp.

"If you want it back, then take a picture of me." He continued, " and if you refuse-"

Without hesitance, he skated dangerously, flipping off of rails and jumping from one place to another. You feared for your camera and eventually gave in to his demands.

" Stop Stop! Ok, I'll take pictures of you, just please give me back my camera, it's very important to me." He skidded amongst the ground and approached with a winning grin. Seeing you all worried was enough for him to know that he won. Giving back your camera, you worriedly checked it. You sighed contently, not seeing any signs of damage, for nothing was nicked or in terrible shape.

" And there's plenty more where that came from." You had no choice but to listen to his demands, no matter how angry you felt. Because it was either taking shots or getting your camera taken away again. " Now about that picture you promised~"

"Alright fine, just pose over there and do something cool." Even though you weren't exactly thrilled to be taking this jerks picture, it was better than putting your camera's life on the line again.

To prevent from upsetting him again, you took careful but beautiful pictures, confident that he would like them. Not exactly the appeal you were looking for, but good enough for now.

"Let me see," out of nowhere, Val snatched the camera out of your hands, much to your dismay.

"Hey, careful with that it was a pretty expensive gift." He ignored your words and continued looking at the shots you got of him. He acted unimpressed, but you knew better.

"These pictures are good enough." He lazily handed you the camera, almost dropping it. If it wasn't for your quick reflexes, well, let's just say that you couldn't take any more pictures.

You gave him a full response. " Yeah, Yeah I know, so are we done here?"

"Guess so, just put the prettiest one that gets my good side in the article. You know, got to look good for the fans." He winked.

You scoffed and walked off, finally free from this ordeal. 'Yeah right, like I'm going to do that from what you put me through.'

But what you didn't know was that this right here was only the beginning.

Note: This was just a quick drabble I desired to write. If you have any tips on how this story can be better, please do not hesitate to let me know. Thank you very much. 

[mrfeenysmustache]

Written for SessKag monthly prompts

December's prompt: Star

~*Twinkle twinkle little star*~

His eyes flashed and his hair shined. His aura glowed brighter than anything she’d ever seen; she needed no training to key in to the resonance with which his soul vibrated, he made himself known on every level a being could be known. But only on the shimmering surface.

~*How I wonder what you are*~

Dog demon.

Killing perfection.

General.

Lord.

All labels to describe his duties and capabilities.

Dangerous.

Predatory.

Stealthy.

Words to describe him in his most basic sense.

Strong.

Solid.

Tall.

Beautiful.

Added to the growing tally of words on the mental list she’d been making totally by accident.

It grew longer by the day as their groups had merged in their quest to kill a spider and steal a jewel, but Kagome felt she was missing something, something hidden in plain sight.

~*Up above the world so high*~

Sometimes when he flew during their travels it was on a sparkling cloud made up of youki that caught the light like flecks of glitter. He would touch down at midday and wait for them to eat, drink and rest and the glitter cloud would follow him down and dissipate from around him in slow wisps and curls. Miroku had caught her staring more than once and she’d pretended to ignore his knowing smirk as she rummaged through her pack for dried rations and trail mix, little bits of sustenance that all but Sesshomaru himself would partake in. She never saw him eat anything, certainly not the futuristic snacks she brought through the well, but she always offered. Sometimes he would just look away, sometimes he would decline in a low but polite voice, but he always declined.

And she always offered again.

If asked, she would say that it felt rude to exclude him.

In secret, she’d begun hoping each time would be a time he’d grace her with his voice.

~*Like a diamond in the sky*~

“What is it you read out here each night?”

The abrupt way his voice cut through her solitude and concentration startled her. She looked up from the pages of her book to see him drift slowly out of the trees and into the empty clearing she’d taken refuge in a short walk from camp. This was about the time each night he patrolled the area of their camp, so she felt safe stepping away from some alone time.

“Uh... it’s astronomy.”

His head tilted slightly to the side, only a scant indication that he didn’t understand.

“Oh! Sorry, astronomy is the study of the stars. And other planets and things. As I get further along in my education, the subjects get more complicated so I need the space from the rest of the group.”

“Hn. And what have you learned of the stars?”

She sat up from her previous place lying on her stomach in the grass and looked up at him towering over her.

The moon, big and full and high in the night sky, set the silver of his hair aglow. The swath of night behind his head sparkled with pinpricks of starlight. He echoed their distant and luminous beauty and her breath caught in her throat.

“They are very very high above me.”

He blinked, and then he looked away from her and up into the sky at the very stars watching over then.

“Indeed. But perhaps not so high as they seem.”

Within one blink and the next he was gone, back to his patrol, and Kagome was alone with her book once again. The yellow of her book light now seemed harsh and ugly. She clicked it off and snapped her book shut, pressing her hand over her rapidly beating heart.

She’d always known Sesshomaru possessed other worldly beauty, but it had never struck her like this before.

‘He’s never spoken to me that much before, either.’

The memory of his voice shivered down her spine. She took several moments to calm her racing thoughts and heart rate, and returned to camp to pretend like nothing had changed.

~*Twinkle twinkle little star*~

He was tender with Rin.

He was brusque with his brother.

He was polite enough with Miroku’s curiosity.

He obliged Sango’s desire to be ignored.

But with her, sometimes he could be almost loquacious.

He’d started asking her questions here and there about her studies or the variety of stories she read to the children, and he seemed genuinely interested in her breadth of knowledge.

It wasn’t a lot of attention by any measure, but it was a far sight more than he gave anyone else, and always when his eyes were on her, shining with even muted interest in what she had to say, her heart would kick back up.

It was such a startling turn of events, but not one she would panic about.

‘So I have a new crush, big deal.’

But foolishly, with each question he asked and each small conversation they shared, hope grew in her heart.

~*How I wonder what you are*~

Devoted.

Patient.

Polite.

These were the virtues she extolled when Sango finally cornered her about her increasingly obvious interest in their aloof travel companion.

Loyal.

Steadfast.

Curious.

More words on her list, more proof of her growing understanding.

“It’s silly I know. He’s so far out of my league. It’s just a simple crush, I’ll get over it.”

Sango looked at her and Kagome avoided her gaze resolutely.

“I think he may be interested in you, too. Or at least, I wouldn’t be so quick to say you have no chance.”

Her heart froze and she beat down the bubbling hope fiercely.

“Don’t say that Sango. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

Sango sank deeper into the hot spring and closed her eyes with a relaxing sigh.

“When have I ever done that?”

Kagome stared at her in surprise.

She hadn't ever done such a thing before.

Yuka, Eri and Ayumi would have, her excitable friends back home from high school, but Sango was much too sensible for that.

Far from ready to delve any deeper into such a volatile subject, she followed Sango’s lead and slipped further into the heated waters of the spring.

A shooting star arced overhead.

She closed her eyes and made a wish.

[lethesomething]

Ghost of Tsushima and the Hands of Fate

I see we're still trying to prove that games are an art form by making everyone feel bad.

For the record, Ghost of Tsushima is one of my favourite games in a very long time. It is extremely pretty, the aesthetic and general … polish is *cheff's kiss*. You can pet foxes and backstab people. The fighting mechanic is decent and there are just So Many Hats.

But also, it has the kind of story that pulls you in to the point where you have to drop the controller to hide behind your fingers going 'ohgodno'.

It is an absolute bastard of a game, is what i'm saying.

So let's talk about that, and specifically about Straw Hat Ryuzo and how I feel bad for him.

I am, by the way, going to be talking about the narrative structure of a video game about medieval samurai, so expect like, a bunch of spoilers.

The narrative is one of the big draws in Ghost of Tsushima. Like yes, it's an open world rpg with fighting and flower picking and all the important stuff, and also yes, some of the bits are sloppily written (looking at you, specifically, 'Ending to Norio's Arc'), but the game definitely sets out to Tell a Story.

And because this is a Serious Game that openly bases itself on samurai movies like Kurosawa's, it is a Drama.

In many ways it is an utterly brutal Bildungsroman, a narrative in which a young man finds his identity.

I have joked with friends about the clear intent for this game to make Important Stories, in that it actually tries to tick all the boxes of hotbutton subjects: childhood trauma? Obviously. Gay relationships?  Yup. Survivor's guilt and PTSD? Oh yes. Domestic abuse? Several. Suggested pedophilia? Damn, even that.

The foxes are there to soothe the soul

It's interesting to note that from a writing point of view, this bildungsroman is even Very Classically Structured. It goes so far as to be a three acter, with a pretty standard build-up.

 Jin Sakai, traumatized man that he is, spends the first act slowly getting to grips with the bit where you don't fight an army by yourself by  just walking up to them and challenging them With Honour, like he has been taught his entire life. Instead of getting stabbed repeatedly in the chest and set on fire, he  discovers guerilla warfare and creates this persona of the Ghost, a literal vengeful spirit seeking justice for the island of Tsushima.

It gets him some big wins and in the second act he slowly embraces this identity until things get to a head where he clashes with his entire old life. The third act starts at the hero's lowest point and is utterly gut wrenching (i am Still Not Over the horse, game), forcing him to pull himself together for an ending that is, well…fitting for the narrative. It's an ending that is needed, but perhaps not what Jin deserves.

 But anyway, this is about Ryuzo, and how until that ending, I was very upset about his role.

You see, this story is told in part through the lives of Important Npc's, who contribute to Jin's journey of self-discovery. This is pretty obvious with someone like Yuna, who is the one to introduce him to the Stealth Life and who is a driving force behind the marketing of the Ghost.

Someone like Masako, meanwhile, portrays vengeance and self discipline, but Jin also kinda tries to make her fill the mother-shaped hole in his heart.

Lord Shimura, meanwhile, is an Obvious Father figure but also stands for Jin's past. He's rigid and ineffective, which pushes Jin to further look for alternatives.

Ishikawa, that other mentor figure, is more moderate and flexible, but he also represents a possible unwanted future. He literally warns Jin at one point not to become like him.

Norio, then, is as mentioned not the best written, but he too is a person that searches for his destiny and tries to become like his hero, while only barely holding on to his sanity. 

Kenji, I'm sorry, I love you but you're just comic relief, that's all you do. It's an imporant job in the story, because god does it need it, but you're not teaching Jin anything other than how to make different 'resigned sigh' noises.

So what about Ryuzo? From the very beginning, Ryuzo's story didn't really sit right with me. There's the obvious class issue: he's one of the few important npc's that are poor, and he's an Antagonist.

It has always rubbed me the wrong way that his original intentions were good, depending on how you read it. He's trying to feed his men. He essentially made the decision that this one man's life (even if it is an old friend) is worth the price for the lives of his band of ronin.

It's a lot more complex than that, of course. Ryuzo partly blames Jin for his predicament in life, and he also knows that samurai treat their soldiers as chattel, which the game goes out of its way to show you they DO.

  Essentially, he's a complicated character who makes bad decisions for arguably good reasons.

Ryuzo did everything he could to save the lives of the people he cared about. He went so far as to abandon his honor and his childhood friends, to try to make this happen.

Does that ring any bells?

It kinda clicked for me at the very end of the game.

Jin, being the protag in an assassin game, does a lot of killing. But some of these deaths are given more meaning than others. Some of them are there to make you feel like shit (the Horse Again, but you lose several friends along the way), others serve a more defining purpose.

You see, there's a fair amount of what i'd like to call 'intimate violence' in Ghost of Tsushima. It's an old trope. The 'if someone was gonna kill me, it had to be you' kinda scene that hails from a worldview in which some deaths are better than others, sure, but some deaths are better even than living. It's a worldview in which life itself is less valuable than your legacy. You die for your place in history. For your clan, for your family, for your honor.

Bushido is full of that sort of thing, so it makes sense that a game building on that worldview, would use the heck out of that trope.

  The first is Ryuzo's death. You fight him in a duel, in which he tries to plead for some resolution. You could let him go, come up with some story. But Ryuzo is a traitor, so Jin ultimately defeats him and sends him off in what would be a touching moment of bro friendship if it wasn't for the blood and my 21st century sensibilities.

You grant him a warrior's death, is what I'm saying.

  It happens again with Shimura. The game actually gives you a choice here, but if you go through with it, the scene almost perfectly mirrors Ryuzo's.

You fight in a duel, and Jin tries to get his uncle to just let him go, come to some kind of resolution. But Jin has been branded a traitor, and the only way for Shimura to restore his honour and clan, is to take his life;

This being a game in which you have the power of bamboo strikes and also save games behind you, Jin ultimately wins the duel, and has the option of granting Shimura a warrior's death.

It is utterly heart wrenching and that whole scene has no business being as pretty as it is. The swelling music? The fucking strings? The anguished yell?

Fuck.

  But anyway.

That's about where it clicked with me, that Jin never had a choice.

Ryuzo's whole role wasn't fair, but this is one of those stories where life itself is just not fair at all.

Both him and Shimura are there to show us Jin's path.

  What if, the game says, Jin had listened? What if he'd taken one of several offers the Khan made and surrendered?

What if he'd cooperated?

Well, we see in Graphic Detail what would happen. He would get pushed into doing horrific things. He gets manipulated, again and again, until there is no way out anymore. At some point it becomes clear to him that he's on the wrong side but whenever he tries to devise some plan to turn things around, things go Badly. He's firmly stuck in Khotun's web and the only way out is death.

But what if, the game says, Jin had stayed true to his honour? What if he had listened to his uncle, not defied him, if he had dropped the Ghost before it was too late?  If he'd gone full bushido and repented for the shogun and done all the groveling and the proper stuff.

Samuraihood is just another straightjacket, says Shimura's fate. The tenets are so rigorous you would take your loved ones life, while fucking bawling your eyes out. Shimura knows damn well it's unfair but he also has no way to leave this path. It's a ride he cannot, and will not, get off alive.

  Jin never had a choice.

There was only ever one way for him to go.

Like let's be real: pretty much everyone in this story was dealt a bad hand. It's a narrative about resilience in the face of utter horror, of reinventing yourself and giving up entire structures of faith. People like Masako, Yuna, Norio are finding peace in dealing with huge levels of trauma and regret.

The goal isn't to start a family and live happily ever after, it's to Survive.

Submitting to the mongols would have killed Jin's spirit. Standing tall and rigid as he was taught to do would have, ultimately, killed him as well.

  "I've given up everything to save these people", he says near the end. "And I would do it again."

That's someone who has no regrets.

Jin never could have taken another path and he knows it.

And this is why Ryuzo needed a fate as shitty as his. He fell, so Jin could walk.

I'm sorry, it's still not fair.

This game needs some comfort fic.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous)

Asbestos parked her door-shield in front of the Doctor’s office door after closing it behind her. “Hey, you done yet? We’ve got some drinking to do.”

“This is four days in a row,” he sighed from his desk. “I’m starting to get used to having a hangover in the morning. Why are you so insistent about this?”

“You’re the one who begged to come on an expedition with me. If you wanna roll into a cave with me, you’re gonna have to pull your weight. I’m not sandbagging for your slow ass. Come on, damnit, daylight’s burning!”

He groaned, resolutely stationary. “But what the hell does getting drunk have to do with spelunking? And you’re the one who asked me to go with you by giving me a suit in the first place!”

“Because I had a spare, and it had to go somewhere, didn’t it? Sheesh.” The Savra crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. “Come on, time’s a-wasting. You know I won’t leave until you come along.”

“...Goddamnit. Fine, let’s go.” The Doctor stood up, threw his jacket on, and followed her through the double door...which she left in place. Of course she would.

She put her arm through his and tugged him all the way to her bar of choice - in other words, the one with the least amount of people. In fact, the only other person there was the bartender, a Forte with as many scars has he had fingers and said about as many words in a night, so in other words, it was just the two of them. “Give us both a whiskey lullaby, and keep it coming until this boy here becomes a man.”

“I’ve been one for a few years now, thank you very much.” He took the glass as it was put in front of him, took it straight to the back of his throat, and, admittedly, relished the burn for a moment. “You’re gonna be the death of me, one way or another.”

“Might as well be; otherwise, you’d never leave your office.” Asbestos took her one drink for the night slowly, monitoring the Doctor as he downed his second.

Then his third. He was getting much better at this. “Do you do this to everyone who tries to talk to you? Not that that’s many people, I imagine.”

“Magallan and Click didn’t need a test, and we only talk about our expeditions, so I didn’t bother. You, though? You need all the toughening up I can give you.”

“The hell does that mean?” His eyes narrowed; he’d let his hood fall down during the walk-drag there, and it gave his expressions an extra note of sincerity, like a fighter throwing aside their training gear. “Do you know the shit I’ve seen?”

She snorted. “No, and you don’t either, so don’t try that shit with me.” And there went number four.

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t pull out all the stops to annoy me...What’s your real game, anyway? There’s being tsundere, and there’s being a sadist, but you don’t really seem like either to me.”

“Tsundere? Wow, alright, nerd.” Asbestos, breaking tradition, finished the rest of her first glass and signaled for a second. “Who needs a game? I just want to be a jerk - is that so hard to understand?”

He slammed his free hand on the table. “Damn right, it is. Why d’ya wanna go around like that? The hell makes a person make that their whole goal in life?”

“Does it matter? I don’t want the baggage that comes with all that shit. All a friend would do is hold me back, anyway, and I’ve got too many crazy-ass caves to climb around in to make time for that. Especially a scrawny mite like you.”

“Maybe I am scrawny.” The Doctor, seeing double after his sixth glass, drifted his focus to her tail. “But that makes me pretty fast.”

The Savra followed his gaze and shifted so he couldn’t stare. “The hell are you staring at?”

“Heheheh...Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Hey, dumbass.” She snapped her fingers in his face. “My eyes are up here.”

It was too late; he was already pretty far gone by this point. “I’ve made my choice...Swish!”

“Swish?! What th- kyaaa~!” Without giving her any time to react, the Doctor had bolted out of his chair and was now standing behind her, grasping her tail with one hand and stroking it with the other.

“So smooth~” It was nice and warm, too. “Hehe- ow.”

The ‘ow’ was because Asbestos had kicked him off of her and was standing over him, hands on her waist. “Who the hell said you could touch my tail, because it sure as fuck wasn’t me!”

“But it’s all smooth and warm...You really gonna hog that all to yourself?”

“It’s my tail, asshole, that’s my right!” She groaned. “Forget it. You always get like this after five or so. It’s my fault as much as yours.”

The Doctor sat up, rubbing his head. “But you keep letting me get away with it~ Just admit it: you like when I do it.”

“...I’m taking you home. Come on, let’s go.” The Savra pulled him to his feet and started dragging him behind her again.

“♫’Bestos-chan is best girl♪” He sang to himself as he stumble-slid along behind her. “♫’Bestos-chan is best girl♪”

Asbestos was blushing, in spite of herself; her tail was lit up as a result, too. “Sh-shut up. Seriously, your voice is more grating than a piton on a rock face.”

“But you aaaaare best girl. Heh. You make, ♫dum-dum Hurt so good! C’mon, baby, make it hurt so good!♪”

“...Goddamnit.” He was always so cute after she knocked some sense into him, but...No. Giving in would just make him think he had a chance of getting through to her, and she couldn’t risk that. She had way too much to do and not enough heart to spare for him...At least, not that she wanted to admit to having.

They made it to the Doctor’s place without any more major altercations - no, just him singing his love to her off-key and her telling him to shut the fuck up. The usual post-bar routine. Tonight, though, things took a bit of a turn as the Savra opened the door for him, but he refused to let go of her. She dragged him into his apartment, but still, he hung on with a strength he’d never shown before...What was his damage? “Hey, we’re here. Get off. Train stops here.”

“Why should I?” Once she was stationary, the Doctor wrapped around her leg instead. “Then you might leave~”

“Yeah, that’s the idea, weirdo. Seriously, you turn into a perv when you’re drunk.”

He chuckled, chasing it with a hiccup. “Maaaybe.”

“You’re insufferable.” And yet… “Alright, look, if you let go of my leg, I’ll consider staying for a nightcap, but you can’t cling on me like fucking moss if I do, got it?”

“Alrighty-ighty-oh.” That convinced him; the Doctor let go of her leg.

She sighed, helping him to his feet. “There. I said I’d stay, so I will, but don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Sure.” Immediately, he kissed her, full on the lips, as he hugged her as tightly as he could manage. When Asbestos kneed his crotch, he pulled back, but he didn’t look like he was in any pain. “See? Not funny in the slightest.”

“...I’m never taking you drinking again. Forget the expedition, this shit isn’t worth dealing with-”

The Doctor, who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness up to this point, cut the act and stood up to his full height - a good half a foot taller than her. “You know you won’t.”

“The hell?” Asbestos stared at him for a moment. “That...was all an act just now, wasn’t it?”

“If there’s anything you taught me to do, it’s put on a front. You know I’m not a touchy-feely guy.”

The Savra shook her head. “Maybe not when you’re sober, but- Oh fuck, wait a minute.”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Like you said, you don’t know the shit I’ve seen; I’m not even talking about the part even I don’t remember. This was never about toughening me up, Asbestos; we both know that.”

“You leave one chink in your armor, and the whole suit is worthless.” She sighed, wishing she’d brought her shield with her.

The Doctor nodded. “Especially when you wave it in front of the guy with a knife aimed at it, begging him to stab at it. The thing is, I know this isn’t about needing a friend, because you don’t really need those, so what is this about? Why tempt me like this, only to push me away every time?”

“Well, it’s not playing hard to get, I promise you that.” The Defender looked around for a place to sit before deciding on the bed, since it was her only option in her immediate vicinity. “Look, I don’t...I don’t want to leave anyone behind when I go, alright? This Oripathy shit is gonna kill me one way or the other, and when it does, I don’t want someone missing me when I’m gone.”

“...That’s it?” He’d sat down next to her, partially because his knees were kind of wobbly, but also to signify he was genuinely paying attention at this point.

She repaid him for that by punching his arm. “Yeah, that’s it, asshole. Seriously, I bare my soul to you, and you still bitch at me.”

“What can I say? I learned from the best.” After a moment of silence, the Doctor sighed. “So, what? You just wanna leave and forget any of this happened?”

“Yeah...No...Damnit, you’ve got me all confused.” Her tail was glowing again.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about going overboard earlier. It’s not...I just...God, no, there’s not a single good explanation for that, is there?”

“You’re desperate? Hopelessly in love with me, willing to drag yourself through the mud behind me and get beaten to shit just to be near me?” When he didn’t say anything, the Savra sighed. “Of course you are.”

“Calling it love is too generous; I’m just a masochist who thinks you’re cute.”

Asbestos shook her head. “It just had to be you, didn’t it?...Alright, how about this: when we’re both less intoxicated, and I’ve gotten my shit straight, I’ll get back to you on where I want this to go. Sound good?”

“It’s better than nothing.” He sighed. “Until then?”

“Until then?...Eh, why not? One for the road.” She ambushed him, giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door.

The Doctor watched her leave, stomach full of butterflies and alcohol-induced nausea and head absolutely spinning. Was that really it? No, it didn’t feel right-

The Savra walked back into the room and closed the door behind her, shaking her head. “I’m staying the night. The jacket’s coming off, but nothing else is. We’re gonna lie in that bed together, in a warm and tender embrace, and that’s as far as we go tonight. Got it?”

“You read my mind.” His shoes flew into the wall across from him and ricocheted off. “Really couldn’t get me out of your head this time?”

“That’s not it...I’m just cold.” The words rang hollow even as she said them, but it didn’t matter; the way her tail curled around him instinctively once they were both lying down, or the way his heart beat lulled her to sleep as she set his head against his chest, or the way he took it all in stride, seemingly grateful just to have a chance at all - those were the realities of the situation, and those were all she needed to come to terms with it for the night.

Because, even if she didn’t want a friend, it was nice to have someone to do this kind of thing with...

[aworldoffandoms]

49 for Ethan and F!MC please 🥺

Authors Note: This one is heavy on the angst! The prompt is in there...it’ll just be a while before you find it lol. Hope you like!

Thanks to @senseofduties for this prompt! I hope you enjoy it too! 💗

Prompt is: you have always been the one

Prompt is in bold.

***

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC [Nicolette Valentine]

Word Count: 1, 440 (this one ran away with me)

Rating: G

Warnings: Angst. All the angst. Oh, and maybe, like, one swear word.

Summary: Nicolette’s fed up with Ethan being so stupid that she gives him some parting final words. 

I’m tagging my OH tag list but please let me know if you’d like to stay on it or would like to be removed.

Open Heart Tag: @senseofduties @polishchoicesfan @princess-geek @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @binny1985 @fanficnewbie @x-kyne-x​ @thefluffyphotographer @lilyofchoices @thecordoniandiaries @rainbowsinthestorm @cxld-play @jens-diamondchoices @hopelessly-shipper @my-heart-beats-for-ya @landofenchantedwonder @sabrinahoffersonsworld @flyawayboo @stanathanxoox @oofchoices @thequeenofcronuts @heauxplesslydevoted @bi-cookie @kingliamsbish @trappedinfandoms @supercoolperson0808 @perriewinklenerdie @riverrune @caseyvalentineramsey

Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Pixelberry and all characters belong to them.

***

OBTUSE

The air around the two doctors is thick and full of unanswered questions...or maybe that was only visible to Nicolette. All she can do is try and hold herself together against the raw pinching pain that Ethan’s constant pulling away does to her. Sometimes she doesn’t know how to breathe. It steals her breath because she should be expecting it but each time he does it still surprises her and her breath escapes her.

It’s been like this for three months and she has no idea how she has coped this long. She yearns for him to an utmost unhealthy degree. She longs for his touch, his kiss, his gentle words, his resolute strength around her and yet, she has none of it. 

They’ve skirted around each other for so long that now Ethan seems like an enigma to her. She wonders how he can be so resolute in his view of the world, so black and white, so clinical and factual, no room for variations and it infuriates her. 

And yet… 

She won’t have him any other way. She almost wants to laugh because maybe that’s the way when you are deeply in love with someone. You see them for their flaws and everything good and bad in between.

If only a certain stubborn man can see what she felt for him.

“Nicolette?” 

Nicolette inclines her head to the side to indicate that she is listening but she doesn’t verbalise the acknowledgement. She can’t. Her throat is tight as if fingers have taken a vice grip around her neck. 

There is a sigh off to her left and a click of a button and the shades to the diagnostic’s office slide closed. Nicolette jolts and she tears her eyes away from the green fern plant beside the back wall next to Ethan’s enormous desk.  

Ethan gives her a concerned glance, his brow furrows in worry and he steps closer to her, the file resting in his hands limply. 

“Are you alright?” 

No, I’m not alright. I’m going crazy because you keep pushing me away... 

Nicolette doesn’t answer and she moves her eyes from his piercing blues eyes. Oh, those eyes that could see through her and make her shiver at the same time. 

Ethan’s heart beats a little faster at the apparent absence of mind his colleague was experiencing lately. The said colleague he can’t seem to stop thinking about. 

She’s there from sunrise to sunset. The green moss of her eyes is a current occurrence in his dreams and the phantom ghost of her lips haunt him every day. Why does he do this to himself? Why must he follow his rules that he has so painstakingly upheld for the past thirty-seven years?

Nicolette will certainly be the one to change them...if she has not already. 

He sets down the files and takes his place beside Nicolette, his eyes carefully regard her as if not to scare her. For some reason, she seems more fragile than normal. The light in her eyes is less bright, the ease in her steps before more robotic now and the happiness in her expression falters regularly. 

It’s his fault, he knows it and the thought slices through him again with staggering clarity of feeling.

His voice is gentle as he begins to speak. “I know for a fact that you aren’t okay, Nicolette. What is the matter? You aren’t yourself.” 

Nicolette replies then, however, it’s more a scoff than a decent reply. “Of course I’m not myself. I haven’t been for a while.”

Ethan sighs and sits back against the chair, his arms folding along his broad chest. He takes the plunge and says the answer that both of them were thinking. He might as well say it because Nicolette wasn’t going to. 

“And this is because of me, I presume?” 

Nicolette lets out a dry, humourless laugh. “You think? I’m surprised you are smart enough to realize that, Doctor Ramsey.” 

Ethan’s eyebrows raise at the insult but he decides to ignore it. There are things that are more important than his pride. 

“It’s been known to happen. Can I do anything to help?” 

Nicolette signs despondently, shaking her head. “No, there isn’t anything you can do. Not unless you finally decide to wake up to yourself and save both of us this constant back and forth and unnecessary pain.” 

The room is silent, Ethan processing her words before he says something. “I can’t possibly wake up to something when I don’t know what it is or at least don’t have clues to properly understand it.” 

Nicolette wills herself not to scream, or better yet, cry. She tenses her jaw against the burn in her eyes. She’s not going to break down in front of Ethan. She’ll wait until she gets home and collapses into the comfort of her own bed to do that. 

How can this man be so infuriatingly obtuse? 

Nicolette’s jaw unhinges as her teeth gnaw against each other in her frustration. She repeats her thoughts out loud because she has to. Are all men this stupid? 

“Okay, I don’t know if you are fucking with me or being deliberately obtuse.” 

Ethan frowns at her sharp words, his mouth turns down in displeasure at her choice of expletive but he replies to her cooly. 

“I don’t think I’m being obtuse...I mean, I just want to understand what has got you all…” 

He searches for the word but he finds none, his hands rest against the table, his fingers threading between his own.

Nicolette’s smile is small, wane and empty. “You want to know why I’m all…” she waves her arms around her head in emphasis. 

Ethan nods and Nicolette turns to him, her green gaze pins him to the spot and Ethan has to suck in a breath to make sure his lungs don’t give out at the intensity of her gaze. 

“You. You have happened. And you will continue to be.” 

Ethan’s sharp intake of breath is all the sound that can be heard in the room and not even the beeping of his pager can distract him from her face or the frankness of Nicolette’s words. 

He finally finds words but they aren’t what he’s looking for. “Me?” 

Nicolette gets up and puts her hands in her white coat, hiding the fact that her hands are trembling, away from Ethan’s searching eyes. “Yes...you. I can’t eat or sleep. You have invaded every part of me. Body and soul. You are the only one for me.” 

Ethan doesn’t know what to say so he keeps quiet as she continues, silencing his pager. It doesn’t escape him that the words out of her mouth were true. The inherent finality and earnestly dripping off them shake him to his core. 

“I… I don’t know what—” 

Nicolette holds up a hand, her face moulding into the professional mask that both of them wear and seeing that makes Ethan's heart squeeze painfully in his chest. 

“Don’t say anything more, Ethan. I’m telling you the truth now because I don’t have the emotional strength or mental stability, even, to deal with your emotional whiplash. I’ve had enough. Either you finally understand what’s happening in there,” she points to his heart and his head, “...or we are done for good because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep being in love with someone who’ll probably never reciprocate. What an idiot I am, right?” 

She shakes her head self-deprecatingly and heads for the office door. She needs to leave. She needs to go before she crumbles underneath his gaze. God, those eyes are going to destroy her. 

Ethan stares at her as she retreats from his side and the words fall out before he has a proper way to think them through. 

“You love me?” 

Nicolette stops but doesn’t turn around, however, he does see her nod. 

“Don’t go, Nicolette. We can talk about this.” 

His words plead with her, desperate to get her to stay, to talk, anything to make her stay and not have her walk away from him.

Nicolette’s auburn hair moves with her as she shakes her head vehemently. “No, we’ve talked enough...or lack thereof. I can’t keep torturing myself. Not when I know that you are the only one I want and I can’t have you. You have always been the one, Ethan. Why don’t you see it?”

She retreats from the room then, her back straight, her feet carrying her away from him and he has a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’s lost her for good and that terrifies him. 

[the-one-eighteen]

Prompt: On his birthday, Eddie wakes up to smell food cooking. Christopher asked Buck to come over an help him make breakfast for Eddie and he goes out to see Buck and Chris standing at the stove, laughing and he feels so happy and realizes he's in love.

I am. So sorry for the delay on this! Life…happened. As I’m sure it’s happening for everyone right now. But! I hope this is okay! Thank you so much for sending this in, I had a lot of fun with it!

(read on ao3)

Eddie doesn’t know what woke him up.

There’s nothing immediately there to clue him in either, and if it weren’t for the suddenness with which he’d snapped his bleary eyes open, he’d be willing to put it off as just. The natural process of the morning.

He frowns at the wall slightly, listening carefully into the silent house for any kind of clue.

No, wait, not silent.

He hears the clang of cutlery hitting a pan, then a quick ‘shh shh’ that he could pick out of a crowd because Chris was still working on fine tuning his subtlety, followed by a deeper rumble of a muffled laugh that he could also pick out of a damn crowd, because Buck had never tried for subtlety in his life.

So, just Buck and Chris in the kitchen. Nothing urgent then.

Eddie can feel his body sliding back into sleepy looseness, his eyes already drooping closed again - it’s his day off and his kid is cared for, he wants to sleep in dammit - when a couple things click into place.

Well, less things more questions.

Like, one - and this one was really the biggest - what the hell was Buck doing here?

And two - the one that was actually the biggest and one he was resolutely ignoring - why was his immediate reaction to Buck being here all clear?

(And three - wow was he really trying to convince himself he didn’t know the answer to two? His denial ran deeper than he’d thought.)

(Except it really, really didn’t, because Eddie knew his crush on his best friend was pathetic on the best of days, and all-consuming on the worst. God, that one moment of peace - of feeling like everything was right with the world and everyone was where they should be (where he wanted them to be) was going to haunt his best dreams for the next few months, and he couldn’t even work up the energy to pretend to be mad about it.)

Eddie groaned, burying his face in his pillow for a long moment. It was his day off. He didn’t need something this confusing (this perfect) so early.

There’s another clang and another muffled laugh - including one from Chris this time, which, no matter the situation, would always make Eddie grin - and Eddie decides to face the inevitable. He takes long enough to grab a shirt, hauling it over his head and following it with a weak attempt at taming what he was sure was some pretty spectacular bedhead before slipping quietly out of his room.

There’s a pretty good chance Buck and Chris wouldn’t have noticed if he’d bolted out there yelling.

Without the door to muffle it, he can now hear the two of them giggling and whisper-shouting to each other almost constantly, and when Eddie peaks around the corner into the kitchen, he finds Buck bent over the stove, Chris sitting on the counter next to him, both of them intent on whatever it is Buck is doing.

Eddie leans in the doorway for a long moment, no longer feeling the sense of need to know that had driven him from bed. Chris is still in his pjs, his hair an impressive nest of curls, and the smile on his face could light up Eddie’s whole damn world. There’s also an impressive spot of...flour? On the tip of his nose and smeared across his cheek.

He can only see Buck’s back, but Chris’ smile somehow gets bigger and brighter each time Buck looks over at him. From his vantage point, Eddie also sees Buck flip out a pancake onto a slowly growing stack on the other side of the stove that he hadn’t noticed at first.

“We’re just about done, buddy. You wanna go get your dad? And remember,” Buck turns enough to face Chris, pressing his finger to his lips and giving Eddie a good look at his profile and the truly impressive smear of flour across his eyebrow that looks suspiciously like a handprint, “This is a surprise right? So, ‘happy birthday,’ loud as you can, then get his grumpy butt out here, right?”

‘Happy birthday’?

...Oh. Eddie had completely forgotten about that. But from the look of giddy determination on Chris’ face, he hadn’t. And he’d probably been the one to plan this whole thing - whatever this whole thing was.

And from the sounds of things, Buck was, if not an accomplice, then a completely willing participant.

It was the ass-crack of dawn, on his and Buck’s one day off that week. And here he was in Eddie’s kitchen, with Eddie’s kid, looking as giddy as could be about making Eddie a birthday breakfast, when Eddie hadn’t even remembered what day it was, let alone made any kind of big deal about it in the last week.

Eddie didn’t really know what to do with the butterflies currently lighting up his chest.

Buck nods seriously before breaking out in a grin to rival Chris’ before reaching over to help him down from the counter. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Which is about the time both of them notice Eddie leaning in the doorway.

The synchronized freeze and matching wide eyes was something Eddie would’ve given almost anything for a picture of.

And, now that he could actually look at both of them, it looked like their faces weren’t the only casualties of what had to have been an epic flour battle. He’s more impressed there’s none on the counter or floor, really.

“Good morning.” Eddie says, unable to resist.

Chris just about whirls around on Buck, Buck’s hand on his shoulder keeping him steady, one hand pointed up at him, accusatory and matter of fact, “I told you it was too loud.”

And Buck takes a moment, blinking between Eddie, then down at Chris, then back at Eddie before just shaking his head with a laugh, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, you were right. I still don’t see why the plan won’t work. He’s just already dragged his grumpy butt out here.”

Chris ponders that for a moment before turning back to Eddie. A decision seems to be made a moment later, as he hurries over to Eddie in what could by all accounts be called a tackle-hug, yelling, “Happy birthday!”

And Eddie just melts, leaning down enough to scoop a now laughing Chris up and swinging him around with a kiss to his cheek, “Thank you, mijo,” he gets out through multiple more kisses that make Chris giggle and squirm in his arms.

Eddie feels like he’s damn near glowing by the time he looks over at Buck, who’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed loosely over his chest, just watching the two of them with this...this look that sparks the butterflies still taking up space where Eddie’s lungs are supposed to be. His smile is so damn soft, it’s mostly crinkling around his eyes, and he’s just...watching the two of them like he’s got nothing better to do at six in the morning on a Saturday. Like there’s nothing he wants to do, other than be right there.

“If it’s any consolation, this is still a pretty big surprise.” Eddie offers after a moment - throwing it into that awkward quiet between his laughter and Buck’s quiet smile that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“I asked Buck to help because Abuela said you’d probably forget again,” Chris pipes up, either oblivious to the way Eddie’s voice doesn’t fit in the suddenly full space between him and Buck, or all too aware and breaking it like the wonderful whirlwind he is.

“Oh, she did, did she?” Eddie asks, looking back to his son and feeling himself smile without much control from him. “Well...yeah, she was right.”

“Like she normally is.” Chris adds, the ever loyal grandson.

“Like she normally is,” Eddie agrees with a laugh as he presses another kiss into Chris’ curls. “Well, since it is my birthday, I’m voting breakfast and cartoons. Wanna go find some good ones for us?” The question’s barely out of his mouth before Chris is nodding eagerly, and Eddie can’t say no to that, so he sets him down and off Chris goes.

Eddie watches him go for a moment before looking back at Buck and...no, the smile’s still there, and Eddie can feel his heart skip. The butterflies are gone, leaving him instead with this want tugging somewhere just behind his heart. He’s pretty sure he couldn’t stop his feet if he wanted to, let’s the pull bring him up in front of Buck - watches Buck’s smile finally move, as his nose scrunches up and his head tilts to the side.

“You okay there Diaz?” Buck asks, and it could be teasing. Could be questioning, or curious, or insistent. But instead, it’s gentle. Coaxing Eddie back into his head, and encouraging the tugging at his core to ease up.

Eddie can’t really say what’s on his mind - he doesn’t have the words for the gulf he just stepped across in both the kitchen and in his own head.

‘Crush’ didn’t begin to cover what Eddie had for Buck. Couldn’t cover the sheer simplicity of it.

But Eddie...god, Eddie didn’t know if he could admit what he was slowly yet impossibly quickly realizing. So, instead? He reaches up a hand to brush away some of the flour still sticking to Buck’s temple.

And Buck pauses then, tilting his head into the touch without much thought it seems.

And there’s that small smile again - the one that crinkles his eyes and leaves an imprint in light and little else. “C’mon, birthday boy. Earth-shattering revelations are for after breakfast.” Eddie’s pretty sure Buck’s moving to get them to the living room, but he just can’t not, not after that confirmation - so he ducks in, stealing one sweet, butterfly laden kiss before pulling back again.

This time, Buck’s smile is in more than just his eyes.

It’s in his next kiss, too.

[slusheeduck]

Binding Resolution

[Chapter 1]

Chapter 2

              The most frustrating thing about dropping a Time Piece is that, for the most part, you don’t even notice at first. Inhale, it slips out of your hand. Exhale, now you’re standing in an empty room two hours ago. Very disorienting, and sometimes very scary.

              At least, that’s what you heard from the grown-ups before shipping out. You are exceptionally careful and have never dropped a Time Piece before now. But in your case, there’s no wondering about what happened, because the place you’re now standing in is definitely NOT Subcon Forest.

              The sun is shining, the trees are full of bright green leaves and delicious-looking fruits, and you see some absolutely adorable villagers in cute little masks running and laughing. So clearly, something has gone terribly, terribly wrong.

              You’re not going to freak out. You’re not going to cry. You might be a kid, but you’re also a seasoned traveler. And also a movie star, and legally a bird. So you’re ready for something like this. Besides, you still have that other Time Piece in your backpack. All you have to do now is get yourself oriented and focused.

              “She just appeared, didn’t she?”

              “Out of nowhere, yeah.”

              “You think we should talk to her?”

              You look over to see two of the villagers whispering to each other behind a tree, clearly trying to be very stealthy. Once they’re spotted, though, they seem startled.

              “Or…or maybe we should go find the Prince.”

              “Yeah, the Prince. That’s a much better idea.”

              One of the two is wearing a cute fox mask—it looks a little like your Dweller mask, without the whole “seeing horrors unimaginable” aspect yours has—and they wave their little arms at you. “Stay right where you are, kid! We’re gonna go get you some help!”

              And off they run.

              On one hand, you really ought to hop back to where you were. It’s possible, you know, though it’s not something you should do outside of dire circumstances. But winding up somewhere completely different than your original location definitely seems like dire circumstances.

              On the other hand, the shift is starting to get to you. Big ones are much harder on the body than little ones, and you’re feeling more than a little woozy. Maybe you should wait for a minute before doing another big jump.

              Also, maybe you should lay down immediately.

              Your head spins, and you feel yourself falling down, though you can’t exactly figure out which way you’re falling. Just before you hit the ground, though, something catches your arm and yanks you back up.

              “Woah, kiddo, let’s try and stay upright, okay?”

              Your arm hurts a little from the jolt, but it helps snap you out of dizziness. You look up at your rescuer—which, really, is a loose term, considering he could have dislocated your shoulder doing that—and he does the same to you. Between the crown, the fancy clothes, and the perfectly styled hair, he certainly looks princely, so you figure this must be who the two villagers were talking about. There’s something familiar about him, but in your current state, you’re definitely not able to figure out what it is.

              “Well, you’re definitely not a local,” he finally says. “Where’d you even come from, kid?”

              You start to talk, but the wooziness is back in full force, so you instead focus on staying upright. The Prince sets a hand on your shoulder, keeping you steady.

              “You know what, hold onto that thought. Let’s get you somewhere you can sit first.” He starts pushing you forward, careful to make sure you stay centered. “Subcon’s nice, but I think you need an actual chair or something.”

              Subcon? THIS is Subcon? But it’s so…not creepy? Weirdly enough, you’re not as surprised as you should be. As far as you know, you can only time travel with Time Pieces. But if this is Subcon Forest, then how far back did you end up going?

              Oof. That thought does NOT help your current state.

              As the two of you walk, you start picking up some landmarks. The path is familiar, even if the greenery and happy villagers are not. Now if you could just figure out this Prince guy…

              All thoughts, muddy as they are, come to a screeching halt as you come up to a bright, beautiful mansion. You know this place. You had a contractual obligation here that almost got you killed, and some nice paint can’t make you forget that. You stop dead in your tracks, not even moving as the Prince stumbles and nearly topples you both over.

              “Jeez, kid! Can you give me some warning first?” The Prince looks down at you as he adjusts his crown, dark eyes narrowing curiously at you. “What, you don’t want to go in?”

              You shake your head firmly.

              “Why? It’s just my house. I go in it all the time and I’m just fine.” His head falls to the side as he looks over the front door, then he crouches down to your height as he continues looking at it. “Is it those angel statues?”

              More like the dark entity you’re sure is still hiding inside, but the headless murder angels weren’t great either, and you don’t trust them with or without heads.

              You give the Prince a nod, and he laughs.

              “Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you. Well, unless they go on a murderous rampage again…” He glances down and clearly notices the horrified look on your face. “I’m joking. Which…admittedly, might not have been the best idea considering you look ready to keel over.” He sighs, then stands up straight and sets his hands on your shoulders. “Relax, kid. They’re just statues. And if they do get murderous, I’ll tell them it breaks the terms of their contract, deal?”

              Oh. Oh. That makes something click, and you’re caught off-guard enough for the Prince to be able to push you (carefully) into the manor.

              “See? Not a scratch on us. Probably because unemployment’s really rough on statues these days.”

              No. No, no, that can’t be right. You’re making silly assumptions because you’re still feeling the effects of the time jump. But the Prince is right; you two are in the manor safe and sound, and aside from a few villagers running about with linens and food, it seems like you’re the only two there. And…it’s tremendously cozy. It’s just warm enough, and the air carries the smell of fresh-baked cookies. Even with the memories of being chased around by that shadow-lady, you can’t force yourself to be on guard here. You let the Prince guide you up the stairs, and he opens the door to a very flouncy room. Lots of lace and frothy bed hangings. It’s very pretty, and not your style at all.

              “Here, kid, let’s get you settled in here for now.” The Prince rests a hand on his hip, looking around the room. “Normally this is where my fiancée stays, but she’s out on royal business right now, sp the room’s all yours. I’m sure she won’t mind.” He waves toward the bed. “Lay down or take a nap, whatever you need. I’ll have one of the Dwellers bring up some food for you later, then maybe we can figure out where you came from. Sound good, kiddo?”

              It sounds great. In seconds your hat is off and you’ve thrown yourself down onto the bed. Your head’s still spinning a bit, but with the soft pillow and cozy blanket you wrap around yourself, you’re able to drop off into unconsciousness almost immediately.

~

              You’re not really sure how long you’re asleep, but it’s definitely not long enough. But there’s no way you could have stayed asleep with all the commotion on the other side of the door.

              “What do we do? She’s coming!”

              “Just change the sheets!”

              “But that little girl’s still inside, and the Prince said we CAN’T wake her up!”

              You rub your eyes and sit up. Well, you feel normal again, which is good. And considering how worked up the Dwellers on the other side of the door are getting, you should probably get on out. Just as well, you don’t want to wait too long before getting back to your proper time.

              You grab your hat and hop off the bed, and you smile at the two Dwellers as you open the door. They rush inside, pushing you out and slamming the door. Well. Manners, apparently, have never been a big thing in Subcon Forest.

              You fix your hat and make your way to the stairs. It seems right to thank the Prince for letting you recover, so you set out to find him before heading back. (Heading forward? Thinking too much about that will get you woozy again, so you don’t.) You’re startled, though, by a piercing shriek that goes through the entire manor.

              “My Prince!”

              You pick up the pace, running down the stairs and heading toward the source of the squeal. You find it at the door, where a very pretty blonde woman with a dainty crown throws herself at an unsuspecting Prince. She peppers kisses all over his face. Ordinarily, you’d be grossed out, but there’s something familiar about this.

              “Darling!” The Prince’s brain has apparently caught up to what’s happening, and he wraps his arms around the woman’s waist. “I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

              “Oh, but I couldn’t bear being apart from you for a moment longer, my princey-wincey!” she cooed. “Besides, it’s just boring queen stuff. Not like I’m actually missing anything important, especially because all I could think about was you, my love! Did you miss me while I was gone?”

              “Of course I did. I miss you every moment you’re not here, my princess.” This time, the Prince dipped his head to press a tender kiss to her temple. “Sometimes I can’t believe how lucky I am to have such a devoted soon-to-be wife.”

              Clearly the Prince is busy. You figure it’s better just to leave a note thanking him for his help. You dig in your backpack, looking for a piece of paper. Time Piece, water bottle…oh, you forgot you packed the storybook.

              The storybook!

              Your backpack falls out of your hands, and your head shoots up to look at the pair in front of you. Blonde hair, dainty crown, green dress…that’s definitely Queen Vanessa from the story. And the Prince…he looks just like the one from the book.

              Oh. Oh no.

              It still seems impossible, but if the story’s true, then your hunch earlier was right. You’ve gone back a very long time.

              And it looks like you’ve found Snatcher.

[Chapter 3]