#sometimes horror is just a fucked up creature killing a guy. and that's so much fun

[esmecarmona]

Guillermo del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities — 1.01 “Lot 36” dir. Guillermo Navarro (based on the short story by Guillermo del Toro)

[artbyblastweave]

Anyway, Trevor Henderson (of Slimeyswampghost fame) is currently producing a fiction podcast called Mayfair Watchers Society based on his horror artwork. And so far I like it a lot- it’s scratching two major itches for me;

It’s got a significantly more grounded approach to living in a Fucked Up Little Town (TM) where Things Just Happen Sometimes than Welcome to Night Vale; Characters in the town take a measured and reasonable approach to the fact they live in a town where Stuff (TM) happens sometimes and talk openly about it when it’s becoming relevant to the situation at hand, without becoming complete cartoons about it. A very “Ah, fuck, not this again- okay, does anyone remember how they handled this last time?” approach to it, which is very much how you’d translate the overall Vibe of Henderson’s works into a non-visual format. One of my favorite episodes so far is a Town Hall Meeting in which complaints about poachers slowly segue into the reveal that there’s some kind of bone-monster roaming about in the woods harvesting shed antlers to amalgamate into itself, and the initial theory that it’s some kind of scooby-doo style hoax by human poachers gets openly shouted and argued down as the unsubstantiated crank position that doesn’t pass Occam's razor despite the slight circumstantial evidence in it’s favor. And I was nodding along!

There’s a significantly greater spread of spookum intent. One thing that started to grate on my about The Magnus Archives, even before season 5, is that the universally hostile nature of the setting’s supernatural phenomena mildly damaged the sense of stakes; you already know what the freak of the week wants before you even know what the freak in question actually is, and then it’s just a waiting game to see how this one tries to kill everybody. So far Mayfair has had a decent spread between creatures that are actively malevolent, creatures that are primarily benign but inconvenient, and creatures that are, say, genuinely trying to help with a bullying problem but with no understanding of proportionality. Which is, again, basically the thematic throughline of Henderson’s art; a lot of his creatures are fundamentally of ambiguous intent. Sometimes a weird guy in an abandoned warehouse is just chilling, or exploring itself, and you’re the belligerent. Other times it’s an ambush predator with human mimicry. No way to tell!

[sp1tballz]

General creepypasta headcanons :)?

Im gonna give you my top 3 creepypasta guys I like a lot <3 Not including Toby because I just did his (Im also bumming some of these off of my friends @spinningtusk and @memeliamarie)

Eyeless Jack

-We all know the story, healthcare student

-Kids division! He's great with kids before demonification

-I think a bit of that still lingers after... its just, you know, harder to do that without being faced with screams of terror

-I don't like the "He's limited ONLY to human meat" hc I just think thats his favorite treat and he eats it a lot (comfort meal moment /J)

-Occasionally he goes back to his human favorites for a sense of nostalgia though

-Personally. I don't think he'd like jtk. One part being Jtk is essentially a kid, and another part being he'd view him as a whiney brat because jtk is a whiney brat

-Advanced surgical knowledge allows him to also stitch up victims after he ate their organs. Not really relevent to anything but its SO funny to imagine he took the time to make them look neat before getting the fuck outta there !!

Helen Otis/Bloody Painter

-Artistic and poetic soul

-I dont talk much about romance stuff in these hcs but Helen...

-He's secretive about the murders, in his day to day he's described as manipulative and apathetic

-In my head, he uses that to a sorta advantage. Good with words = Good with flattery. In any case, You'd fall for him in .2 seconds flat.

-"You're as radiant as the moon overlooking a crystal clear lake" "You're a gem. To lose you would be a horrible devistation to this world and to myself." "May I paint you? I would love to have the memory of tonight, forever."

-I cant get over this guy

-He uses it as a lure. Get you in close, then go for the kill.

-Other than that, I can see him not having very many friends in his adult life.

-I imagine he attracts horrors a lot. He's bumped into BEN and Toby once or twice, he's regularly visited by The Puppeteer, Jack stops by every now and again to see if he has anything to spare, etc. He's like the monster hot spot, somehow he attracts all these creatures.

-He has paintings of all of them too <3 Tokens of gratitude for keeping him company.

BENDrowned

-Gamer

-Ik we hate the emo headcanon or whatever but hes a teenaged emo boy

-He doesnt smoke weed. Toby does. It's an influential force, and sometimes they smoke together.

-Troublemaker.

-My friend lio (@spinningtusk) imagines Ben and BEN to be two different people. Ben being the boy who's possessed and BEN who's the possessor

-Ben is nicer to talk to than BEN

-Toby also likes Ben more than BEN

-I personally dont have very many headcanons for him, I just think he'd be a fun friend to have under the right circumstances. Toby found those circumstances, theyre an inseparable pair in my eyes. Best friends (maybe more 😲)

[neon-green-reagent]

Yet Another 50 Underrated Horror Films

I guess most people would want to talk about the best movies they watched in the past year, but I thought this would be a more fun way of ending 2022. Let me give you some links to other lists before I get started, in case you are into this and just cannot get enough. Well, allow me to be of service.  

The First 50 

The Second 50 

UFO Movies 

Mad Science Movies 

Aquatic Movies

Found Footage Movies 

Heavy Metal Movies 

Werewolf Movies 

Eyes of Fire : Back in old timey pioneer days, a group of people get cast out from their community because their preacher is a sex fiend. So they find their own place. That is full of evil fae magic and ghosts and stuff, and things get wonderfully weird. 

Highway To Hell : It’s Orpheus but full of puns and dumb jokes and incredible special effects. My favorite bit is about the road to hell being paved with good intentions. Also, Adam Storke is in this... You know, Larry from the 90s Stand miniseries. That guy. He’s great here. 

Shallow Ground : Ghosts. But so so so much cooler than just that. I don’t want to say too much. This one is all about the reveal. This teenager shows up naked and covered in blood, and everyone goes what the hell happened to him? And shit gets STRANGE.

Nightflyers : Adaptation of a George R.R. Martin short story that really needs a blu-ray release, like, yesterday. Beautifully 80s SF horror film full of weird, futuristic bullshit that I can’t get enough of. 

Beyond Dream's Door : What if A Nightmare On Elm Street were made on $3 and a ton of LSD? Take this trip, no pun intended. 

Night Vision : A guy that literally just fell off the turnip truck decides to be a writer in in THE BIG CITY. Which supernaturally chews him up and spits him back out. A cool, low budget time.

The Murder Mansion : Giallo! Two rather attractive people meet, fall in love instantly, and then get trapped in a murder mansion. That’s all you need for a giallo masterpiece really. 

Goke, Body Snatcher from Hell : An alien invasion that goes super hard. A plane crashes due to alien interference, and the survivors are faced with just... the scariest alien invasion of all time. This movie fucks. 

Island of Terror : Lil goo monster that kills you the moment it touches you. It feels like they were trying to do a Lovecraft thing, and it’s quaint and British with Peter Cushing. 

The Majorettes : One of those late 80s slashers that just keeps on giving. The first fifteen minutes were hilarious enough, and then the third act happens. There’s a siege? On a trailer park? In my slasher? 

Sometimes They Come Back... Again : Alexis Arquette (RIP) gives the performance of a lifetime as an undead thug who will fuck your daughter and your dad. Watch it for her. 

Sweet Home : Nothing is quite like a Japanese ghost story. This one throws some slasher tropes in there, too, with very over-the-top kills. Then it lands the dismount. Give me a blu-ray now please. 

Creature : Alien rip-off! Now hear me out. I am a sucker for those, but this is probably the best one in existence. Watch The Titan Find cut, as it’s the director’s preferred version, and I think it slaps. 

Candy Corn : Why isn’t this a Halloween classic? It’s like Trick r Treat meets Dark Night of the Scarecrow. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, that’s an incredibly good thing. Also, the kills are brutal. 

Auntie Lee's Meat Pies : Auntie Lee has lots of BEAUTIFUL nieces who attract dumb men that she puts into delicious meat pies. Good for her, right? Some rockers in bad wigs show up and... predictably become pies. 

Skinned Deep : If Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 had no limiters on. If they were ALL off. All of them. I mean, just all of them. Warwick Davis is having the time of his life here. And Surgeon General’s mask is made out of what you ask? Boyfriend material. 

Werewolves on Wheels : A biker gang stumbles across a cult having a ritual. This makes them become werewolves. And that’s awesome. 

Distortions : Olivia Hussey and Piper Laurie attempt to out act one another while both going completely out of their minds. Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. 

Phantom of the Mall: Eric's Revenge : When you’re such a simp for The Phantom you’ll watch a hunky version kick ass underground in a mall. Also, it’s a good slasher. With Pauly Shore being... actually a fun character. 

The Marsh : A children’s book writer moves to the country to rest and get inspired. Then ghost shit starts happening. Trust me, this movie goes around some bends I didn’t expect, and it’s really worth taking the ride. We love a good ghost mystery in this house.

Dead and Buried : The story kicks off with a photographer getting set on fire at the beach by an angry mob. And it doesn’t get less weird. Definitely more weird. It blew my mind, and I didn’t think that was possible after all I’ve seen. With Robert Englund before he was Freddy. 

Clearcut : Native American horror. This one is all about Graham Greene playing Arthur, a gleefully violent fellow with a lot of secrets. I kept thinking of Severen in Near Dark. The performance is that good, yes. 

Satan's Triangle : Made for TV movie about the Bermuda Triangle. But also the devil. With an ending that I’ll never stop thinking about. 

Night Shadow : A werewolf movie! Where the werewolf and some lady have a psychic connection. I think. I mean, I guess. And her brother knows kung-fu, but doesn’t use it to fight the werewolf. Some bad choices were made, but ultimately it’s a good-bad time. 

Tales from the QuadeaD Zone : From the maker of Black Devil Doll From Hell comes... this! A horror blaxploitation anthology that really... It really is real. Also, what’s a QuadeaD? Dunno. And that’s not a typo. That’s how it’s spelled. Watch this. You’ll thank me. Or hunt me down, not sure which.

Alien Predators : A horror comedy that is heavy on the goofball antics and low on the scares. But damn if those antics aren’t cuter because it’s Dennis Christopher partaking in them! 

Too Beautiful To Die : A late 80s giallo full of fucked up shit, a crazy murder weapon, and giallo’s favorite victim: fashion models. And I need to say 80s one more time to emphasize the true magic of this film. Okay, one more time: 80s!

All-American Murder : Christopher Walken. Ahem. Oh, you needed me to say something else? Well, murders. And lots of silly, silly, silly dialogue. And Walken gets to say a lot of it, too. 

The Killer Is Still Among Us : Another giallo. This one is all about the ending. I find a lack of resolution to be one of the scariest thing a horror film can do. Very effective. 

Slime City : A man has to eat people to keep from melting. It’s a tale as old as time. He goes full goblin mode by the end. Good old-fashioned melt movie. 

Flesheater : Directed by the guy who played the first zombie in Night of the Living Dead. The cemetery one. Not sure why that made him qualified to direct a film, and when you watch it, you’ll see that it didn’t. But that’s why it’s good. Because it’s amazingly bad. Also, directed The Majorettes from up there, if that’s any indication of what you’re getting into. 

All About Evil : Directed by Peaches Christ, this is an absolute love letter to horror cinema. Right down to the very theaters the movies play in. Cassandra Peterson stares at an Elvira poster. It’s that kind of movie. 

I, Madman : There need to be more movies like this. About the power of stories to come alive. One minute you’re reading a book. The next minute, the book is happening to you. Stars Jenny Wright, who deserved a better career. 

Grotesque : Linda Blair versus a gang of punks. Oh, excuse me. Punkers. That was one of my favorite parts, that they insisted on calling them punkers. Home invasion that goes completely WTF by the end. WTF endings are a theme with me. 

Hell High : A group of high school outcasts decide to terrorize their teacher. Not realizing a nudge will make her go postal. This movie is way better than it has any right to be, quite frankly. 

The Untamed : A Mexican SF horror film that is all about sex. It’s not SEXY. It’s ABOUT sex. And the need for it, the way it wrecks relationships, addiction to it, cheating, not being able to be true to yourself about your own identity or needs. It’s a lot. I love it. 

Death To Metal : I love to see heavy metal horror alive and well. An evil priest gets a toxic waste makeover and decides to take out his religious frustrations in a local dive hosting a rock concert. It’s low budget and full of love. 

Tropic of Cancer : Giallo! Again! With voodoo. Not accurate voodoo, don’t ever look for that in a horror film. But with magic and antics is what I really mean. And those antics are quite wild and fun. 

Final Judgment : Brad Dourif as a priest with a gun trying to catch a serial killer. Also, lots of strippers. If nothing about that makes you want to watch it, may I check your temperature? 

The Mangler : One of those bottom-of-the-barrel Stephen King adaptations with so much to give. Directed (well, in part, it sounds complicated) by Tobe Hooper. Starring Ted Levine. With an absolutely gigantic, evil, designed-by-Dracula laundry press.

Deep Blood : I haven’t seen every Jaws ripoff known to man. But why do I have the feeling this is the worst? If you want to relax with friends and laugh heartily over a multitude of poor choices and production mistakes, have I got the movie for you. 

Identity : How unknown is this? I mean, it has John Cusack and Ray Liotta in it. But I still feel like no one talks about it. Still needs way more love. And Then There Were None, but twists galore. And lots of great, fun performances. 

Retribution : A man attempts suicide right as a murder is taking place. The soul of the victim enters him and uses his body to exact vengeance. With a fantastic performance from Dennis Lipscomb and a lot of heart. 

The Devil's Men : Priest Donald Pleasence versus cult leader Peter Cushing. In a fight to the death. With a minotaur there as well. Place your bets!

The Stone Tape : Do you like Halloween III? The same guy wrote this. It has a similar blending of technology and the supernatural. And the supernatural tends to win in those scenarios... 

Benny Loves You : This is a flawed movie, but one thing is for certain: Benny is perfect. Benny loves us, and you’ll love him, too. A killer toy movie that’s a cut above the rest. 

It! (1967) : Of course, I had to include the year, because, no, I’m not talking about one of the most popular horror stories of all time. I’m talking about Roddy McDowall (doing a Psycho) and a golem. And murderous hijinks! 

Wind Chill : I know Christmas is over at the time of writing this, but this was a fantastic, underrated Christmas horror. A guy and a girl drive home from college in the snow and get stuck. Where a lot of people have gotten stuck before. And died. 

The Shuttered Room : We’re in Lovecraft country here. Yog Sothoth doesn’t show up, but a lot of other gothic trappings sure do. People locked up in attics. Getting harassed by locals who are itching to say YOU AIN’T FROM AROUND HERE, ARE YA? Covered in a layer of creepy sweat. With Oliver Reed! 

The Dead Hate The Living : Gotta end on a total banger. An independent film crew gets a little too zealous in making their horror flick and unleashes zombies upon themselves. With a ton of shoutouts and horror nerding, enough even for little old me. 

That does it! These are always a labor of love for me, and I hope there are those of you out there that get some mileage out of this. 

[jar-of-ectoplasm]

Reverse Demon Slayer AU

a/n: a demon slayer au my friend and i were talking abt a bunch last week and i wanted to share it with you guys :))

like literally the au is just the demon slayers are the demons and the demons are the demon slayers it's prob been done before but still here it is besties (the hashiras turn into the 12 kizuki, the trainers are like the ex-kizuki members [like kyogai])

Genre/Warnings: Demon shit, body horror, just kinda creepy stuff cause the demons in Demon Slayer look busted most of the time, mentions of blood, gore, mentions of violence/death, religious stuff (gyomei)

~Giyuu Tomioka~

-Stays in the forest near a lake

-His voice echoes, kinda like how a siren's would. Since his voice is very calming and can go pretty far out, it lures a lot of people into his lake

-Blood Demon Art: Can create "reflections" of the demon slayers he's fighting out of the water in his lake. Every hit they land on Giyuu's version of them just goes straight through it since it's made of water but it's able to actually hurt the slayer (basically giyuu just makes little water minion to do his bidding)

-Would be very attached to the demon who turned him (which is Urokodaki) and would be absolutely livid if anyone managed to kill him

-After your encounter with an ex-kizuki member, you started hearing a strange voice echoing through the forest in front of you. Mistaking the man's calls as cries for help, you venture further into the forest not knowing you were walking into your death.

~Shinobu Kocho~

-Her eyes look just like a fly's, but instead of red they're purple

-Has pincers on the sides of her face

-Blood Demon Art: Can spit acid up to 5 feet (like an assassin bug) and if she manages to bite you, she can inject venom into your bloodstream with her freak ass bug tongue (like an ant)

~Sanemi Shinazugawa~

-The top half of his outfit would be tied around his waist (like how Susamaru had hers)

-The scars on his body would become mouths, and each mouth also has a voice so whenever Sanemi speaks it's like there are several voices speaking at the same time

-Blood Demon Art: Can literally take the their from a person's lungs and suffocate them. A demon slayer can't use their breathing technique if they can't breathe, right?

-Doesn't wash the blood off his clothes and he keeps the swords of the slayers he kills as trophies

~Tengen Uzui~

-Each dot on his face tattoo would become more eyes

-His three wives would change every so often because they're kidnapped female demon slayers

-Blood Demon Art: If he gets even the tiniest cut anywhere on his body, he'll be able to emit an incredibly high pitched sound to disorient his opponent

~Muichiro Tokito~

-Blood Demon Art: Creates a mist that, when inhaled, fogs the person's memory; making them forget what they were doing completely so he can easily attack them

-Honestly, he thinks killing the Hashiras Muzan sends after him is a chore, so he usually stays in the Infinite Fortress

-When he does go out though, he doesn't stay in one place for too long so he can avoid the demon slayers as much as possible. He doesn't want to waste energy on killing low level children

~Obanai Iguro~

-Pretty much a naga, the bottom half of his body is a serpent's tail

-Can unhinge his jaw to take some big ass fucking bites out of people

-His eyes can look in two different directions at the same time, making it hard for slayers to land a good hit on him

~Mitsuri Kanroji~

-Main territory is the red light district, she lures men into her little place and eats them

-Blood Demon Art: Similar to how Tamayo can force someone to tell the truth using her demon art, Mitsuri is able to attract people to her. No one wants to hurt the person they're attracted to, so it would make it easy for her to kill them.

-The prettiest demon Hashira by far, pretty much everyone else looks like some horrible grotesque creature

-She always tries to keep the clothes of the men she kills clean so she can give them to the girls in her house. Even if they are human, she still cares for them greatly

-Is the cleanest demon Hashira as well. She doesn't like making a mess of her room just to clean it up right after

-Mitsuri also likes to try different recipes with the men she eats. Having them raw just isn't as fun as cooking them herself

~Kyojuro Rengoku~

-Blood Demon Art: Similar to Esidisi from JJBA, he can make his blood boil. When the slayer manages to get a hit on him, his blood would splash on them and burn through anything it touched. The temperature of his blood is on par with lava

-Looks the most human out of pretty much all the demons, but something just seems very off about him

-When you're fighting him, he's stone faced until he gets bored of you. His smile just looks way too big for his face, and the amount of teeth in his mouth are far beyond what it should be

-Doesn't have eyelids so he literally never blinks

~Gyomei Himejima~

-Would be dressed as a traditional Buddhist priest/monk

-He kills demon slayers to "help them atone for their sins"

-Main method of killing would be using his rosary to choke them out, sometimes since he doesn't really know his own strength their heads pop off

-He cries blood instead of tears

-Blood Demon Art: Can make his blood as hard as diamond so the demon slayer would be unable to cut him on the first try, so he would be able to take advantage of their shock and kill them

~Tanjiro Kamado~

-Blood Demon Art: Just the same as Nezuko's, since they're siblings and all that

-He had come from a family of demon slayers, and after getting turned into one himself they all tried to kill him (except for Nezuko)

-Wears a muzzle only when Nezuko is around other demon slayers. They have to keep up a charade, but it's so hard to control himself sometimes and that's when the muzzle really helps

-His favorite part of the body is the heart. When he was human, everyone always saw him as kind and innocent but when he was turned he was seen as the complete opposite. He hopes that consuming the hearts of other people will return his old kind-hearted personality

~Nezuko Kamado~

-Nezuko followed in her parent's footsteps by joining the demon slayer corps, but instead of trying to find a cure for her brother she gets information and passes it to Tanjiro and the demon Hashiras.

-Nezuko ended up taking Tanjiro away from the bloody ruins of their home, and on their way down the mountain they ran into Giyuu who instructed them to go to Urokodaki so Tanjiro would be safe

-Has killed demon slayers who have seen her interacting with the demon Hashiras. She has to keep her record clean to climb the ranks and to help Tanjiro at the same time

~Zenitsu Agatsuma~

-Would lure people into a trap by guilt tripping them into being alone with him

-"Could you please help me? I lost my gramps, but I can't see him anywhere. Will you help me find him?" and then they'd get bodied

-Always avoids killing innocent people or new demon slayers. He feels so bad for taking their lives away from them, but sometimes he just can't help it

-He'll style the female demon slayers hair after he kills them so they can be just as pretty as they were in life when they get to Heaven

~Inosuke Hashibira~

-The boar mask would become his actual head

-Instead of duel wielding swords, they would be some big ass fangs that he swings around to impale demon slayers

-Inosuke fights dirty. He'll snap his jaws at you and laugh hysterically when he manages to take a chunk out of your arm

-Actively seeks out demon slayers to kill. He never kills regular people because they don't put up a good enough fight for him

-Eats every part of the body, including the bones

~Misc Characters~

-Kanae was a spider-esque demon and cocooned people in her webs to feed a young Shinobu and Kanao until she was killed

-Kanao was human-turned-demon by the sisters

-Urokodaki is an ex-kizuki member and all of his trainees are now the demons in the Final Selection

-the Fox Children, led by Urokodaki, are merciless to any wannabe slayer that comes into their forest looking to make it out alive. Most of the demon slayers that make it out are nearly dead or had ran straight through, not even trying to get a kill

-the Fox Children wear the masks because their faces are incredibly fox-like (think like, mid transition animorphs cover)

-Nobody knows what Urokodaki's face looks like, but based on his mask that's for the best

~General Stuff~

-In this au, the demons actually stick together and the demon slayers work alone which makes the Hashira Kizuki way fucking scarier than they already were

-And because these demons work together, they're all going to hold grudges against certain demon slayers

-When Kanae was killed, the demon Hashira went apeshit, especially Gyomei. Pairing his strength and horrible blinding rage at the fact his coven lost a very important member, every slayer he kills within the first year of Kanae's death die in horrible ways.

-Imagine following the directions your dove gave you to an old, overgrown sanctuary secluded in the mountains. The moonlight does little to illuminate your surroundings, but one thing you do see is the mangled body of your fellow demon slayer hanging from a tree. The only thing keeping them together is their spinal cord, and the impossibly large hand holding their head to a branch.

-The Hashiras are all extremely savage and violent, rarely ever sparing a human life. (sometimes Shinobu or Kanao might feel bad and spare a small child or elderly person, but other than that nobody is safe)

-Crows would service the demons, and doves would service the demon slayers. Everyone is always wary around crows because nobody knows whether that particular one belongs to a demon or not

[koiblossom5]

tr characters at a sleepover

takemichi: probably the most normal one, which is not a good sign. he’s the type to chomp down aggressively on popcorn during scary movies bc that’s how scared he is. he’s also the first one to pass out, making him the ideal target for pranks (courtesy of mikey, smiley, and kazutora)

mikey: oh god oh fuck. this very violent gremlin will hog all of the snacks, and by all, I mean ALL of them (he’s willing to lend takemichi the popcorn though). nobody can get any sleep bc this little shit snores louder than a vacuum cleaner, much to everyone’s annoyance. oh and the nasty ass creature that’s stealing all of the food in your fridge at night? that’s not your sleep paralysis demon. that’s just mikey with his stupid 3 am snacking.

draken: takes on the role as mikey’s impulse control, but only because no one else will do it. everyone cuddles up toward him during the scary movie because he’s strong and has a very reassuring presence. by the end of the movie, he can’t feel either of his arms or legs. he’ll be willing to buy extra snacks from the local dollar store just so he can get away from mikey.

baji: honestly? just as annoying as mikey. he’s ready to get wild, and constantly squabbles over the snacks with mikey (but he’s willing to share with chifuyu). he lets emma play with his hair while he gets his nails done by chifuyu. before sleeping, everyone has to roll baji up into a blanket burrito because this mf will NOT stop kicking in his sleep. have you ever been strangled in your sleep? oh don’t worry that’s probably just baji dreaming of choking kisaki to death

chifuyu: sneaks peke j in because he can’t sleep without his cat. thankfully, he’s one of the calmer people, probably second to takemichi. he also brings over his nail polish and offers to do everyone’s nails! oh uh, ignore the barfing noises in the background: that’s just chifuyu after he’s eaten one pop tart too many. given up on sleep yet?

mitsuya: he’s willing to be more chill. he loves his sisters, but it’s practically a gift from heaven having one night to himself. he brings all of the snacks, much to mikey’s delight. he’s also probably surprisingly calm during the scary movie, but only because he had a weird but short phase sometime during middle school where he would watch nothing but horror movies. it explains a lot about luna and mana’s upbringing, actually. he’ll try to get inui to model in some clothes for him, much to hakkai’s jealously.

hakkai: slightly bummed because mikey has a super tight grip on the snacks and won’t seem to share (it’s fine, draken is going to get some more). also, mitsuya is asking someone ELSE to model for him, which he seriously can’t stand. luckily, he has someone to rant to (ahem, angry) while he gets his nails done by chifuyu. he’s terrified out of his mind during the movie, screaming really loudly during the jump scares. it’s an odd sight: hakkai’s six foot ass cowering behind mitsuya, who’s calmly munching on some popcorn with takemichi without batting an eye.

pah chin: don’t tell koko, but he somehow managed to sneak his dog, pochi into the fucking house. chifuyu’s not the only one who can’t sleep without his pet. peh-yan is the only one who knows pochi is there. they hide pochi in a closet, occasionally feeding pochi some leftover snacks that mikey hasn’t claimed yet. it’s literally the worst kept secret because these two share a collective brain cell, but somehow no one has noticed yet because there’s too much chaos going on. unfortunately, the closet they hide pochi in just happens to be where koko’s shoes and fancy clothes are stored. don’t worry! koko doesn’t find out until the very next morning, or the morning after THAT, because he’s so exhausted he literally passes out for two days. that’s how much of a headache these dumbasses are

peh yan: nervously helps pah-chin smuggle pochi inside koko’s house. he nearly spills the secret like three times to five different people, but everyone thinks he’s joking. he works off the stress by playing (several) rounds of mario kart with smiley, who is unsurprisingly good at it. after the end of his rage-quit, the TV’s shattered and broken, the consoles are split into two, and koko’s headache turns into a migraine.

smiley (nahoya): whatever you do, do NOT turn your back on this fucking demon. he’s all ready to party and get wild, and by party, he means pranking the shit out of everyone at least once. he’s already got to takemichi literally after he just stepped into the house with the classic bucket prank. takemichi seems to be his favorite target by far, partially because he’s so easy to prank. he reluctantly stops filling the water balloons with boiling hot water only because mitsuya catches him in the act. did I mention that his son of a bitch craves violence?

angry (souya): kind of becomes everyone’s therapist for tonight. he sympathetically listens to his friends’ ranting, purely because he just wants all the tea (keeping a secret? forget it. he’s gonna spill to smiley like ten seconds later anyways). during the water balloon fight, he grabs a giant nerf gun instead, which automatically makes him the winner because everyone’s desperately trying to escape his carnage. after all, he was closest to winning smiley’s paintball party last year. 

koko: man I feel so sorry for this guy. everyone chooses his fancy-ass mansion for the location of their sleepover (without permission because permission is for weak ass nerds ofc ). his blood stress and headache is higher than usual, which is saying something. you know that feeling when you’ve had a busy day at school, and your backpack is so fucking heavy it’s practically killing your spine, neck and shoulders? that’s what he’s feeling right now, but worse. don’t worry, everyone trashed his house, but paying for the property damage will barely scratch his bank account.

inui: it’s a little awkward for him because he’s rarely slept over at someone else’s house (other than koko’s), and he isn’t quite close to the others yet. he pointedly avoids other people (mitsuya, who he literally whacked over the head with a baseball bat, hakkai, because he used to be taiju’s subordinate, mikey. because mikey made it very clear that he doesn’t like inui very much, and koko, because fuck you, read the manga). he sticks close to draken’s side and kind of just follows him everywhere until draken tells him to get to know the others better. that leads to him chatting quietly with takemichi, who seems to welcome him. chifuyu’s very eager to paint his nails (red, because it’s the colour of mitsuya’s blood after he got whammied in the head!). mitsuya is determined to make inui his new model project (again, much to hakkai’s envy and distress), and tries to talk to him, which makes inui avoid him because he’s worried that mitsuya’s going to confront him. luckily, it turns out that mitsuya just wants him to try on some clothes, much to inui’s relief. he ends up making some new friends!

kazutora: you thought mikey and baji was bad, huh? well kazutora is (arguably) worse. he’ll keep it civil for the first hour, only making like, 20 snide comments toward chifuyu while chifuyu is doing his nails (the only thing that’s keeping chifuyu from dumping acrylic nail polish all over on kazutora’s stupid egirl banana hair is that the nail polish was expensive as hell ). kazutora’s favorite prank victim also happens to be poor takemichi, which leads to a competition between smiley and kazutora to see who can prank takemichi the most. suffice to say, takemichi had a truly awesome horrible night.

kisaki: i’d like to make one thing clear. this bastard was NOT invited at all. he’d be a mood killer to have around anyways. even if he was, chifuyu would have killed him before he could even take a single step inside the house.

hanma: in a hypothetical turn of events, let’s just say that if hanma WAS at the sleepover (hypothetically, of course), he would be just as chaotic as smiley, except his idea of “fun” is setting something on fire with those stupid cigarettes of his (don’t smoke kids!! protect your lungs). stealing baji’s forte? not cool hanma. :/

[darkeninganon]

ha ha, I blame @bittydragon and their Webbed AU. Anyone who knows me knows I started out as an anon on Roman’s blog who spent their time making their AUs extremely dark and angsty. Bitty has now been hit with their Webbed AU. :) I’m calling this the Arachnophobia AU because it’s going to be really dark and keeps activating my own arachnophobia :’) (I have to look up spiders for this AU) Trigger Warnings for: Arachnophobia (Driders/spider people), Death (Unnamed drider), Killing, Blood (Kind of implied), Vore, and Cursing!

Tommy stared at the forest stretching out around him. Of course he had to explore deeper into the woods than was allowed and now him and his friends were in this situation. Trapped in a giant web made by something and no one around for miles.

"Tubbo, please stop yelling..." Ranboo grumbled, the half albino clearly ready to accept the fate that would inevitably befall the trio. His nihilism was sometimes a little too much to deal with.

Tubbo was yelling for help, he had been since Tommy fell into the web, and only increased in volume when he and Ranboo joined Tommy. "Shut up! Someone has to fucking hear us!"

"Yeah, or something. That's more likely!"

"Oh fuck you!"

"I'd... Hrm, you know what, never mind, I don't care."

"HELP!!"

Tommy sighed, scrunching his eyes shut. This was a horrible idea.

And then he felt the thread move.

Tommy's eyes flew open, heart leaping. "Tubbo! Tubbo something's coming!"

"Hey! We're stuck! Help us!"

"Guys, I'm not sure..."

Tommy joined in, yelling, pleading for help from whoever was moving the sticky thread of the spider's web. Both boys stopped, falling silent in horror as something beyond their imagination slowly came out of the foliage.

"That's not a person..." Ranboo whimpered, staring in terror at the half-human-half-spider creature looming over the trio.

"Huh, would have thought you were more... substantial from all that yelling." The creature stated, slowly and lazily. "Oh well, guess it's fine." The creature moved faster, obscenely long legs carrying it over the sticky threads to the trio as if it was nothing.

"woah, woah, woah! Can't we talk about this?!" Tommy tried, struggling against his bonds.

"Nope. Been without food for a week. Nothing to really talk-" The spider creature screeched suddenly as something dropped on its back. "You! Get off me! Stop!"

The trio watched as the spider creature struggled before falling over, limp save for a twitch of the leg.

And then the snickering began.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The trio looked at their savior, hearts sinking as they realized it was another spider-person-thing. Smaller than the one whose web they were trapped in, but a second one no less. "Three little humans, all caught and with no way out? How sad." The spider-person hummed. It seemed to be floating in mid air as it dragged the much bigger spider person closer. "You know, I don't normally waste my time with people, but maybe you three could be fun. I mean, I did save you from certain death, so you kind of owe me, you know?" The giant spider creature convulsed, and the floating one reacted quickly to bite it in the neck.

Tommy watched as the light seemed to fade from the much larger one's eyes, it once again falling limp. He looked back up to the floating one. "You... You killed it."

The floating one smiled, removing his mouth from his prey. "Well duh! I eat these guys. Sometimes humans, but, I think I'll keep you guys around for a while."

"What?!" The trio practically yelled in unison. Tommy could only watch in horror as this new spider creature floated the rest of the way down, landing lightly on the web before it approached Tubbo, easily ripping his shorter friend from the web. "Tubbo!" Tommy's eyes teared up as he watched the spider creature dangle Tubbo over its mouth and drop him in, gulping loudly and snickering as it turned to Ranboo. "You son of a bitch! Let him out!" The creature ignored Tommy, stalking over to Ranboo.

"Hm, you're taller." It hummed, pulling his second friend from the web.

Ranboo was silent, looking to Tommy as he shook his head. He began to struggle when the creature opened its mouth, a deadly chasm just below his feet. "TOMMY!"

"RANBOO!" The duo called out to each other as Ranboo was dropped into the creatures mouth, where it seemingly rolled around- or worse, chewed- Tommy's last friend before swallowing him as well.

"You.. You sick FUCK!" Tommy hissed out, the creature approaching him. It knelt down next to him. God, even if this thing was small it was still probably hundreds of times larger than the trio. All three could probably fit in its hand with ease.

"What? You'll be fine. I'm not going to eat you yet. Little humans like you are too useful to me." It chuckled, pulling Tommy from the web as it did so. "Now, behave, you don't want me to change my mind!"

Tommy was unceremoniously thrown into the air, yelling as he fell, only to hear the sharp click of teeth snapping around him and plunging him into darkness. Tommy screamed and tried to fight back as he was thrown around by the slimy appendage that was this thing's tongue. He could feel the creature tilt its head back and swallow him down, his hand flying up and trying desperately to grab onto anything he could, made impossible by the slimy saliva. Tommy felt himself slide down the tight, muscular tube before falling into a more open space.

Right on Tubbo and Ranboo.

"Ow!"

"Oi! You two okay?!"

"For now we are. Right boss man?"

"Tommy just landed on my spine, we are inside a giant spider person, and no one knows we're gone. I wouldn't call this "okay" at all."

"Yep, he's fine."

Tommy sighed. They were alive, for now.

Dream smiled, happy his new pets were tucked away and safe. They probably thought they were in his actual stomach and not his storage stomach. Heh, oh well, they'd figure it out eventually. Right now he had to drag this giant pest that dared set up his web in Dream's territory someplace to store it. He made his way back to his drop line, smirking as he felt the trio stumble and jostle about inside him. Yeah, they'd be useful. And once they were done being useful he'd get rid of them for good.

[spreens]

got any spare entity grian hcs? spare hcs, no?

anon come kiss me. this videogame was my fixation for like two years straight I hope you're ready for this absolute nonsense. liberal use of fanon below

SO! As a quick primer for any hermitcraft fans who don't know what DBD is, it's an asymmetrical survival horror. You either play as a survivor in teams of 4, or a killer playing solo. Your goal as a survivor is to complete the objectives and escape without dying, and your goal as a killer is to kill all the survivors before they can escape. It's a lot more gory and complex than that but it's a basic overview.

We're putting those guys aside for now, because our focus is on The Entity. The Entity is the big bad force driving the trials (games) and is the one that forces both survivors and killers to participate. The Entity feeds off strong emotions to survive and grow in power, and is generally Very Fucked Up and Very Bad.

(Art by Inkary. as seen, very fucked up and evil looking)

The Entity is also full of hubris. This is where game canon stops and we head into hc territory. In this au, The Entity is a dimensional creature in it's infancy, and did what it had to do to survive, re: the trials. This brutal method proved to be so successful that it overextended itself and brought far too many survivors and killers into the fold, stretching it's influence and making it impossible to recognise the whispers of dissent between survivors and killers alike.

The Entity at it's core is a biological thing, so with much effort the survivors and killers managed to collaborate and escape, leaving The Entity stretched thin, damaged, and without a food source. (The concept of escaping/biological entity is explored in these fics. 50k and 1.5mil words respectively, not exactly an afternoon read)

This leaves us with a very weak, starving Entity. The Entity remakes itself, drags itself into the bottom of an untouched world, and waits- either for someone weak enough to feed off of comes along, or for itself to die.

Along comes a certain voidwalker by the name of Xisuma scoping out the world. The Entity strikes, desperate, and fails. This world abides by rules so alien and unfamiliar that it's not hard for Xisuma to subdue the sudden threat and investigate further. With the interaction of Administrator magic, the world recognises that The Entity is something that isn't meant to be, and fixes the outlier by turning it into a player, something that is both The Entity and also it's own being.

This player is (the beginnings of) Grian. There's a bit of inbetween stuff but here's some loose headcannons for the soul:

- Grian's body is largely maintained by Xisuma's magic, both as a voidwalker and administrator. He's getting the hang of maintaining his own body with the energy he receives, but it always ends up looking just a little spidery, pointy, and doll-like, much to his chagrin.

- Grian isn't all that powerful, despite horrifying appearances. The laws of the world work against him constantly, and it's only through his status change from glitch to player does the world not unravel him entirely.

- Grian is still an emotivore, but the passions of the Hermits for their projects and each other is a sustainable enough food source for him to live normally with a little hunger.

- Xisuma is the only one that knows what Grian is or truly looks like. Some of the more perceptive hermits (or those in the wrong place at the wrong time) may have a vaguer idea of his origins.

- Xisuma tentatively trusts Grian not to ruin everything, and in turn Grian trusts Xisuma to maintain his human form and rein him in if he shows signs of slipping.

- When not maintained, Grian's hitbox is MASSIVE. This clues the redstoners and mechanic-exploiters into the fact that something Might Be Up.

- The passive emotion from the hermits sometimes isn't enough, so Grian whips up these massive events and games to get the blood pumping and fuel up his reserves.

- As seen, they're usually pretty tame and lighthearted. He toed the line with Demise though, and ended up feeling really bad about it at the conclusion.

- He's emotional and feels as alive as any other hermit. He wrestles with his past and gradually learns to accept his old actions as something he originally did, and vowed to never do again. Not when this all felt so good. Guilt moments over decades of torture while being an instinctual dimensional being.

- 3rd Life was... something bad. Will explore more on it later.

[in-tua-deep]

Oooooo the red bock au sounds so interesting! Does Five caught himself thinking of his brothers just as numbers and weapons like Reginald talks in his book? Does he read Vanya book to remind himself that they are still human even though he reads it through lens of someone hurt by them all? And I feel like the handler would know either way about the books but o it's so much fun to see five being paranoid

I think having both books and both perspectives reminds Five that... he’s getting some very biased accounts of his own siblings. I think that when he’s still young, he writes down as many memories as he can remember because... he starts to forget, at some point. 

Vanya’s book talks about how volatile Diego and Luther’s relationship is, and so Five writes down the time Luther and Diego teamed up to toss Five off a balcony when Five kept switching the pens in their hands with pipe cleaners during a lesson (and he will maintain until his dying day that he was just practicing his control, c’mon guys!)

when Reginald’s notes call Allison an “insufferable, narcissistic creature,” Five remembers Allison bribing him to cause trouble and distract Reginald so that she could use the microwave unobserved to heat up some water bottles as makeshift heat packs for Luther’s sore muscles

when Vanya calls Ben “easily manipulated,” Five recalls Ben arguing theories with him at 2am after one of Ben’s training sessions where Ben almost flipped his bed when Five jokingly suggested that he could use the horror’s tentacles to bounce up and down like a pogo stick before Ben tackled him and tried to beat Five to death with an encyclopedia of sea creatures (affectionately)

I think having Reginald’s journal actually helps in a lot of ways, because Five automatically autocorrects literally all of Reginald’s thoughts to be like, mostly inaccurate and much harsher than they need to be. So when he reads Vanya’s journal he also autocorrects and is able to recognize that it is a very biased and somewhat harsh view of his siblings

(he doesn’t distrust them as much as he does in canon, with only Vanya’s harsh words to cling to with no reminder that they were all raised by a man capable of unfathomable cruelty, no reminder that authors can be oh so biased)

outside of his equations, there’s notes to himself written in the margins of Vanya’s book. Sometimes they’re just small, pointing out that Klaus had fought to include Vanya in trap week (Klaus then proceeded to team up with her and managed to catch Five in a snare - he actually still has a scar around his ankle from his upsidedown thrashing before he managed to steal one of Diego’s knives to cut himself down) or pointing out that Luther’s chilly attitude when they were ten was probably the result of Vanya outperforming him in every standardized test they took because of Luther’s ridiculous inferiority-superiority complex

at the very least he has comparison, because Reginald’s book calls Klaus an absolute failure while Vanya’s book called him “sweet, as a child at least”

As for the Handler... she’s aware that he has Vanya’s book and a red notebook, but I don’t think she actually knows what’s in the red notebook! Reginald was notoriously secretive, after all

So the Handler assumes that the red notebook is where Five keeps his time travel equations because aw, he hasn’t given up! how cute!

She makes an assumption that, logically, makes sense. Of course Five is still trying to figure out time travel, no matter how much he denies it! Of course he’s writing the equations down! What a silly boy, thinking that he could hide this from her, of course she knows about his little plans to save his siblings ;3c

And because she’s so powerful and knowledgeable and one step ahead all the time, she makes an assumption and assumes that it is fact. Because she’s so smart, of course she isn’t wrong! She’s had Five clocked from day one!

(The Handler thinks she has Five all figured out, a creature so based in sentiment. Why would he carry a book around that details the torture his siblings went through? He hates his father, why would he ever carry around his father’s notebook! The Handler has a fatal flaw, and it is that she doesn’t understand loyalty and sneers at sentiment and those are two of Five’s most powerful driving factors. Five lives for his siblings and would die for his siblings, almost his entire life has been dedicated to saving them. Not the world, just his family.) 

(She understands that Five considers his family to be exceptionally valuable, but doesn’t comprehend that Five is 100% willing to die for them should it come down to it. Why on earth would anyone value something like siblings over their own life? Absurd. I genuinely believe that the Handler thinks she could get Five to betray his siblings with the right leverage, and so she fundamentally does not understand Five as a person)

To be fair to the Handler, the whole academy’s morals and just. completely and utterly fucked. Luther condemns the murder of innocent civilians even if it would save the planet but doesn’t blink an eye at killing the ‘bad guy’ Commission agents. Diego stabs criminals as a pastime while still holding himself at a moral high ground for saving people, despite the fact that too many criminals are forced into crime by unfair circumstances. Allison used her powers to bolster her career without even blinking but now refuses to use her powers at all because of the manipulation of one (1) child, not even against ‘bad guys.’ 

I mean. Vanya wrote an entire salt book without consulting her siblings that had lasting impacts on at least one of her sibling’s career in the public eye and potentially impacting her siblings relationships with everyone who had every read the spark notes on her book, without the opportunity for reprisal. Publishing your entire family’s dirty laundry as personal emotional catharsis is... kind of a dick mood, lets be real. Especially when you were all abused children raised in an environment of excessive violence and rigid structure. 

Like yeah, of course Allison is good at manipulation and lying - she grew up with an abusive and over-controlling father. She probably lied as easily as breathing about where she’d been, who she was with, what she was doing, etc. The only privacy they got in that household was what they seized with their own hands and carved out for themselves! Is it fair to say that Allison’s superpower is dishonestly?

Is it fair to say that Klaus got crueler as he grew? He was tortured and turned to drugs as an unhealthy coping mechanism, and then he sat down at a table and looked at all the other little kiddies who did not get locked into a crypt overnight. In fact, there was one child who never got any extra training at all! Can you imagine the jealousy? The bitterness? Klaus might have been exceptionally cruel to Vanya as a teenager, she had everything he wanted and dared to complain about it. Can you imagine listening to someone wistfully wish they could join in on missions when you know that the cost for doing so has been carved out of your soul?

My point is, none of these little bitches have anything that resembles a sane moral compass. They’re unpredictable as fuck! It’s like herding cats! You never know what they’re going to do next! Oh? Are they going to investigate in any logical pattern? No, because Diego just remembered Patch exists and helping her print flyers for the annual police ball is more important than saving the world or whatever lol

Luther is over there investigating the moon! The moon! Meanwhile Allison is breaking and entering her sister’s student’s house because she got shady vibes off of him one time and she has never heard of a proportionate action in her life. 

Meanwhile Vanya is going through the phone book trying to call up psychiatrists who have any familiarity with whatever fucked up meds Dad put her on because like, she would like to Not Be On Them (fuck you dad) but also understands that danger of quitting cold turkey something you have been taking for years and would like a professional opinion on how to safely decrease and eventually eliminate her usage, thanks (Klaus is hanging over her shoulder pointing out the ones who will sell you non-prescription drugs for a price and Vanya mentally crosses those ones off of her list to call)

Five is probably joining on the breaking and entering because Allison promised she would sweet talk to eye dude if he did her this solid 

(Five complains at length about how investigating the apocalypse should not be a solid because she would 100% die as well if the apocalypse came to pass)

[fettsvette]

Never Worn White (Part Two)

Cloud City, Bespin. Boba Fett is on the hunt for a casual fuck before he cashes in on Han Solo’s bounty. You’re a naïve virgin, saving yourself for an adolescent fantasy… and it just so happens that he’s in town. Upon encountering the object of your infatuation though, you didn’t expect he’d be so willing to help you out.

Pairing: Boba Fett x Reader Words: 6.8k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Loss of virginity and unprotected sex

Can be found on Archive of Our Own here.

Mando’a terminology

 vaar’ika - little runt

  nehutyc’ika - feisty one

 cyar’tomade - fans

   -

  “Your boyfriend’s at the Atrium.”

  The words were like a lightning strike through the very fiber of your being, your whole body vibrating, no matter how teasingly and sarcastically they were meant. Your head jerked up so fast from the holopad screen you’d been gazing at that you felt as if you had just given yourself whiplash, and your blood pressure instantly skyrocketed, leaving you feeling light-headed and dizzy. Your roommate grinned lecherously at you, their eyes glinting mischievously. They were one of the few people to know about your feelings for Boba Fett, and it was obvious now that they were torturing you, feeding you false information and getting your hopes up just to watch you fluster and squirm like a giddy schoolgirl. Of course, they didn’t know the extent of your infatuation, and what you were planning if you ever happened to cross paths with the infamous bounty hunter during his unprecedented stay in Cloud City. You didn’t intend to allow them to find out, either.

  “...What are you talking about? Stop it...” You replied faintly, gazing up at them dumbly from your perch on the couch, uncrossing your legs and attempting to knead the life back into the prickling muscles. Your gaze drifted to your hands as you did so, trying futilely to get them to stop shaking just so your flatmate didn’t have something else to rib you over, and then skirted over to the wide window looking out over the city. Neat rows of transports crisscrossing in every direction lined the nighttime sky, carrying Cloud City’s citizens and tourists alike to where they needed to go. You couldn’t help but direct your vision towards the vicinity of the entertainment district, its bright lights plainly visible from your apartment. The Paradise Atrium was only a short distance away from your apartment on Figg Avenue, even closer than the landing bay where the Slave I was still docked. There was no way. It was too good to be true, simply meant to be. He was coming closer and closer to you.

  “I’m not kidding. Boba Fett’s at the Paradise Atrium, right now . I had to stop there on my way home to drop off a couple containers of glitterstim my boss owed the slimeball that owns that place, y’know? I walked in and he was literally right there in the cantina, just sitting at one of the booths in the corner… the ones they always reserve for the really top-tier VIPs.” They explained seriously, and you envisioned the layout of the lounge in your mind, an establishment you had visited quite often. Your thoughts brought you to the very rear of the adjacent and aptly-named Paradise Cantina... into the recesses of a shadowy booth, where sat an imposing figure in a battle-worn suit of Mandalorian armor, reclined against the plush backing of the stall, legs spread almost obscenely wide. His codpiece was mysteriously absent, and you could see everything . He beckoned you closer with the twitch of a gloved finger ...and you shook yourself from your reverie, acutely aware that a cold sweat had started collecting on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to slap yourself across the face, the imagined mercenary still calling to you from your subconscious.

  “Okay, okay… crik. Are you absolutely sure it was him?” You pleaded desperately, and your roommate openly rolled their eyes in your direction, shaking their head incredulously. You needed to be sure . You’d heard of the Fett imposter Jodo Kast, and even though the presence of the Slave I on-world was an immediate indication that the visitor was the real deal himself, there was still a niggling disbelief in your mind. This just could not be happening right now.

 “Of course I’m sure! Kriff, how many Mandos do you think are just walking around Cloud City? Beefy-looking buckethead wearing green scrap metal, more weapons on him than stars in the sky. Poor kid they had serving him was terrified, the guy was shaking so bad he almost dropped a whole tray of brinebrew on the graysuits that were in the booth with him. And - okay, are we just going to ignore the fact that I called Boba kriffing Fett your boyfriend and you didn’t even blink? Honestly, I really can’t believe you sometimes…”

  You didn’t even wait for them to finish. The fact that there were apparently high-ranking Imperial officers meeting with this mystery man was all the information you needed for any seed of doubt in your mind to be crushed. The holopad fell from your hands to land screen-down on the floor, entirely forgotten. Leaping up from the couch and power-walking towards your bedroom on tremulous legs, you flung the door closed behind you and hurriedly began rooting through your closet, looking for something halfway presentable to change into. You stripped yourself of your sweatpants and ripped t-shirt, having instantly settled on a glittering shimmersilk dress that you’d impulsively bought as a present to yourself after your last pay raise. You paused as you pulled the thin material over your head, debating whether or not to put on a bra before you dressed any further. With a curt sigh at yourself, you continued to slip your arms through the straps, smoothing the bunched fabric over the swell of your breasts. There was no point in bothering with one of those itchy, lacy garments you owned, that only you had ever laid eyes on - if all went according to plan tonight, your bra would just be coming off sooner rather than later anyway. You bent to slip your bare feet into a pair of plain black flats - you’d considered heels for a brief moment, but decided against them on the off-chance you had to make a quick getaway - when you were interrupted by the bedroom door colliding with the wall as it was unceremoniously flung open.

  “...And just where the frozz do you think you’re going wearing that ?” A disbelieving voice intoned harshly from the doorway, and you looked up to see your roommate blocking the light flooding in from the living area, a panic-stricken expression written across their features. You paused, your arms hanging limply at your sides, staring determinedly back at your roommate, whose face was beginning to reflect a dawning sense of horror and understanding. 

  “ Out. ” You answered in a bland monotone, snatching your handbag off the bed and peeking inside of it, making sure that the keycard to your apartment door, as well as your credit chip and a healthy pouch of physical Imperial credit coins, were tucked away safely inside. Your roommate strode forward, grabbing your forearm and squeezing tightly, causing you to wince as they forced you to look them in the eye.

  “Out where ?”

  You didn’t reply, your plans already dangerously close to unraveling. Your roommate’s grip tightened to the point of pain, and you were stunned to see that their eyes had filled with tears of fright. You knew you should feel guilty for putting them through this sort of duress, for worrying them to the point of weeping over your safety, but the only thing you found yourself feeling was a sort of grim pleasure. The fact that someone you had grown so close to in your years of living in Cloud City, a creature you considered to be one of your closest friends, could be frightened to this level by the thought of you becoming somehow entangled with the notorious Boba Fett, did nothing but give you a sick sense of satisfaction deep in your gut. It heightened the swirling arousal that was already building deep in the pit of your belly, fantastical images of what this night’s adventure could possibly bring already brewing in your mind. Your roommate finally loosened their vice grip on your arm and shook their head unbelievingly, backing away from you as if you were tainted.

  “Oh, stars … I know what you’re thinking. Please don’t do this. This isn’t some game of Droids and Guards, you fool, he’s dangerous .” They begged, seeming nearer and nearer to tears with every word. 

  “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing. I’m not going to get myself into a situation I can’t handle, I just… I just want to see him.” You adjusted the strap of your handbag on your shoulder and heard the childish, lovestruck pleading in your voice. You hated yourself for it, for letting yourself get this much in a tizzy over a mere man - but this truly wasn’t just a man, was it? You could very possibly wind up in bed with none other than Boba Fett by the end of the night, if the galaxy was kind to you. He was going to be the first to ever claim you - as you pushed past your roommate and headed for the door, you were certain of it. This was your darkest, deepest fantasy come true, something you had been pining for and secretly dreaming about since you were old enough to even fathom the concept of sex, of virginity. Boba Fett was the only man you’d ever thought about giving yourself to for years now, and this was quite possibly your only chance. There was no turning back now.

  “Didn’t you hear me say that he was surrounded by Imps?! High-ranking Imps ! He kills people for money! He’s here working for the Emperor, I know it, and that big brute Vader’s still lurking around -” You held up one hand to silence them, and to your surprise, they immediately stopped, wild-eyed and staring at you imploriously, hands raised above their head. You had never seen your friend this keyed up, this stricken by concern for your wellbeing. It felt strange to say, but other than mynocks in your stomach from thinking about how the rest of the night could go, you didn’t understand just what this panic was all about. You weren’t stupid enough to interrupt important Imperial business, and it wasn’t like Lord Vader himself was going to be sitting at the bar, nursing a drink - right?

  “Just… don’t wait up for me tonight. Okay?” You quietly begged your friend, your voice sweetly soft and as neutral as you could manage. A long moment passed between the two of you, no words spoken, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Several beats passed in silence, only the traffic outside interrupting the heavy tension that filled the room. Your roommate was the first to break, their shoulders sinking, defeated. You felt a new burst of energy and smug satisfaction, but couldn’t help but feel somewhat remorseful at your reaction towards their obvious distress. The feeling passed quickly, however, when your roommate bowed their head, the ghost of a smile on their lips as they clucked their tongue and shook their head at you.

 “Dank farrik… you’re a real pain in my ass, you know that? ...But okay. You win.” They sighed. You kept your expression even, although you were screaming with joy on the inside, and were about to reach out to embrace them, when they took a step back and pointed in your face. You felt yourself going slightly cross-eyed, following their finger down the bridge of your nose, and had to stifle an ill-timed giggle. “But if you’re not back by sunrise, I’m contacting the Wing Guard and reporting you missing, and I’m going to tell them who you were trying to meet up with. I’ll get Baron Calrissian and the Alliance involved. Don’t think I won’t.” They continued, and your heart skipped a beat. You certainly weren’t expecting that turn of events, but weren’t exactly surprised either. With how sympathetic your roommate was to the Rebel Alliance, especially concerning the events of the past week and the installation of what the locals were beginning to call the ‘Iron Blockade,’ it made sense that they would threaten you with action involving the Rebellion, even if it was just out of concern for your safe return. It wasn’t that you didn’t support the Rebels yourself - their crushing blow to the Empire in the form of the destruction of the Death Star had reinvigorated your hope in their cause, especially after the horrific obliteration of Alderaan - but the purely selfish, immature side of you wondered what would happen to Boba Fett if the Rebellion were to come out the victors of this current Galactic Civil War. He was one of Vader’s most loyal hunters, and you had a feeling that the Rebels wouldn’t smile kindly upon his transgressions against them. Especially since one of their most famous generals, Han Solo, currently had a bounty on his head large enough to buy an entire spice mine, and it had been speculated on the HoloNet that Fett was one of the many mercenaries attempting to cash in on this coveted prize.

  You walked past your roommate without another word, slipping past them in the doorway of your bedroom, and padded easily across the living area carpet, knowing now that they’d had put their last word in and would no longer attempt to stop you. Settling your hand upon the doorknob leading into the hall, you were about to let yourself out into the night when you heard the Aruzan softly call your name, and you turned. They stood in the center of the room, smiling sadly, arms folded across their chest, a look of intense worry upon their face as they watched you exit, hoping they would find you back home in the morning. Their last words to you rang in your ears as you made your way across the night sky in the space taxi that would deposit you right on the steps of the Atrium.

  “Good luck.”

  -

  You stepped into the main lounge of the Paradise Atrium and instantly felt incredibly out of place, and exorbitantly underdressed despite the expensive shimmersilk you had draped yourself in for this special occasion.

  The room was filled with regal-looking creatures from all over the galaxy - a large group of Twi’leks sat on a couch in the far corner, smoking from a hookah and emitting large columns of purple and green smoke through their nostrils in between bouts of gay laughter, and a company of important-looking Nothoiin congregated around the elaborate carbonite sculpture placed in the center of the room. You’d attended gatherings at the Atrium many times before, but you’d never been in the presence of so many upper-class individuals. You wouldn’t be surprised if just one of these creatures was currently carrying more credits in their pockets than you would ever see in your entire lifetime. Not to mention, there were several armored stormtroopers, their white plastoid suits gleaming in the artificial light, holding sentinel near the staff entrance at the rear of the room, a sight you’d never seen here before. Something was definitely going down in Cloud City, and you had walked right into it. That realization alone made you want to sink into the floor, and what made it even worse was the fact that there was no sign of Boba Fett.

  You had crept into the Atrium as discreetly as you could, almost on tiptoe, and in hindsight you weren’t exactly sure what you had been expecting. Had you thought that you’d walk in and Fett himself would have been standing there, awaiting your entrance like a prince from ancient myth, on call for his princess’s arrival at the ball? Heart hammering wildly, leaning against the wall for support, you had scanned the room twice, then thrice over, looking for a flash of green, a swirl of cape, any indication that he was present, only to come up empty. He simply wasn’t here; at least he wasn’t anymore, if he ever had been in the first place. As much as you loved your roommate, and despite their almost violent reaction they’d had to the knowledge that you were - at the very least - trying to meet Boba Fett, it wouldn’t terribly surprise you if they had been pulling your leg all along. You’d trudge back into your shared apartment, dejected, and your roommate would be there, grinning smugly, lecturing that the moral of this story was to never seek company with strange men.

  Gazing around the room once more and seeing no sign of Fett, or at the very least, the Imperial graysuits that he’d apparently been here meeting with, you found yourself almost embarrassingly heartbroken. You’d banked so much on tonight, only for it to wind up being a missed chance, if not a complete fake-out. You refused to give your roommate the satisfaction of heading straight back home, though, so you figured now was as good a time as any to drink your sorrows away at the bar. The Paradise Cantina was adjacent to the Atrium and contained a half-moon bar as well as several comfortable private booths, and you sidled onto one of the stools at the center of the console, directly in front of the bartender, a distinguished-looking Bothan who eyed you dubiously.

  “Anything I can get for you, kid?” He asked gruffly, polishing a glass and looking you up and down, feeling you out. Although you had lounged with friends at the Atrium, even attended a few workplace parties there, you’d never really been a patron of the bar, and you felt the clientele ogling you suspiciously. It obviously wasn’t an ordinary occurrence, to see a scantily clad young woman sitting alone at a high-class bar, and the various eyes on you made your skin crawl, although you did your best to ignore the unwanted attention.

  “Just a Jedi Mind Trick, please. Make it a double” You replied softly, keeping your eyes down, tracing your fingernail against the wood grain of the bar. You heard the Bothan snort, probably amused at your choice of such a strong drink right off the bat, doubting you could hold your liquor. The way you saw it, though, you’d rather spend the rest of the evening getting shit-faced here than simply slinking off home alone, to wallow in bed self-despairingly. 

  The bartender had just set the triangular container full of bright blue liquid on the counter in front of you when a door you hadn’t noticed on the far side of the room slid open, and a figure stepped out. A hush immediately fell over the room, which had previously been filled with glasses clinking, quiet conversation and laughter, and a holographic jizz band being broadcast. You didn’t bother to look over at first, too absorbed in your own self-pity to care, picking up the glass and knocking the entire drink back in one gulp, leaving the edges of your mind slightly blurred.

  That’s when you heard the spurs.

  Kshnk. Kshnk. Kshnk.

  At first you assumed it was solely a figment of your imagination, an effect of the alcohol being absorbed into your system, until you realized that the room had gone silent, that even the hologram of the band had ceased playing. You looked up at the bartender, but he was staring over the top of your head, paused in the act of refilling another guest’s stein. The jangling sound filled your ears until you could hear nothing else, not even the sound of your own breathing, and a chill went down your spine. You were clenching your empty cup so tight that you were surprised it didn’t shatter in your hand. Gingerly, you turned around to acknowledge the cantina’s newest arrival, your stomach rolling with anticipation, your blood singing in your veins, your heart pounding like a gigantic drum sitting in your chest cavity. You looked up.

  And there he was.

  Boba Fett.  

  He was shorter than you expected.

  You felt a near-hysterical giggle rise in your throat as the realization crossed your mind, that this was your very first thought upon seeing the man you’d envisioned fucking you time and time again - in person, finally. The laughter died in your throat as he turned to cross the room, only several meters away from you, and you got your first real look at him.

  Stars, he was beautiful .

  Boba Fett walked slowly, methodically, with more purpose than you had ever seen another creature move, even though it seemed his only motive at the moment was to find a place to sit down. The dented helmet that concealed his features didn’t break its steady gaze straight ahead even once as Fett crossed the room, even though every eye in the cantina was locked to him. There was no way the man didn’t know that he was currently the center of attention, the reason for the palatable silence in the air, and it was quite obvious that he didn’t care one parsec. The green armor he wore was littered with scrapes and scars and dents, but still shone in the low light of the bar, as if it had only just been waxed, and you shivered at the thought of getting to press your bare chest against the battle-flecked breastplate. A ragged cape was tossed over one shoulder, and your eyes were drawn to the string of inexplicable numbers glowing out from an interface on the right-hand side of his armor, and to the strange symbol mirroring its position, a stalk of grain framed by a bright red drop of blood and what looked to be lettering in a language you didn’t recognize, directly above his heart. There were several long braids of multi-colored and variously textured hair thrown over the opposite side of his shoulder plate, the sight of which sent another delicious chill up your spine. You knew you should be repulsed by the sight of those trophies of war alone, but it served as a confirmation of something you already knew - this man was dangerous . There was debate on the HoloNet as to the origin of those braids - some who’d been following Fett’s career, as you did, were adamant that they were made of the scalps of Wookiees he’d killed; yet others claimed they were the braids of Jedi Padawans he’d hunted down at the request of Lord Vader himself. Your eyes flitted downwards to below his waist, heat flushing through your system. The greenish codpiece was just as battered as the rest of the armor - even more so, upon a closer look. Judging by the craggy yet shallow indentation located almost in the dead-center of it, some unfortunate soul had made a last ditch effort to save themselves by taking a shot at what they must have thought was the most vulnerable area on Fett’s body. They had obviously been wrong, and you were grateful for it. 

  Almost seeming to move in slow motion, the bounty hunter passed directly by the bar, and you could have sworn you could sense his body heat even from several meters away, could smell blaster smoke and blood on him. As repulsive as those scents should have been, reminiscent of battlefields and death and suffering, you felt almost soothed by the thought of being able to press your face to the rough cloth that held the Mandalorian armor together, breathe in those aromas as deeply as you wished, a smell that was so distinctly him . You focused your gaze on Boba Fett once more just in time to see him settle himself at a raised table in the corner, reclining back casually. He seemed to finally notice that all other movement and conversation in the cantina had ceased upon his arrival, and his helmet swiveled first to the left, then to the right, making direct eye contact with several goggling patrons, who uneasily turned away under his gaze. Fett’s visor then turned in your direction and your heart walloped frantically in your chest - ‘ has he noticed me?’ - but it became obvious quite quickly that he was looking past you, straight at the Bothan behind the bar, who regarded Fett for a long moment before offering him a grudging nod. Almost as if this were some sort of cue, the holographic band started up again with a lively rendition of ‘Sugaan Essena,’ and the muttered discussions, tinkling of glasses, and laughter resumed. The clients of the Paradise Atrium and Cantina seemed eager to forget that the deadliest bounty hunter in the known galaxy was seated in their midst. Fett, however, had cast his gaze to the city outside, watching the rows of traffic track across the nighttime sky, gloved hands resting firmly on his knees, deep in thought. 

  You watched out of the corner of your eye as three young Zabrak women wearing matching skin-tight baffleweave bodysuits made a beeline for Fett’s table as soon as the atmosphere had settled down, obviously over-eager for their chance to flirt with danger. You sniggered when the armored figure sent them away with a wave of his hand before they even had a chance to close in on him, watched them turn tail with their heads down almost as quickly as they had first come. You tried to ignore the coiling pit of unease in your belly as you considered moving forward with your plan, despite the fact that it seemed for all intents and purposes that Fett did not want to be bothered. You continued to watch the man as his attention was drawn back to the outside world. ‘ Oh, hell. You only live once, right? What’s the worst that could happen, he tells you to kark off?’

  “Hey… would you send a drink over to that table in the corner? Whatever he usually orders when he comes here.” You waved the bartender over, pointing a thumb over your shoulder at Boba Fett, jerking your chin in his direction as well for emphasis. You were trying to play it cool, sending a drink to the table of one of the most bloodthirsty men in the galaxy, but you were sure that the bartender could see your hand shaking as you made the request. The tall Bothan looked at you as if you had asked him for a diamond-encrusted barrel of Coruscanti bitters, straight from the Emperor’s private reserve.

  “...You sure about that, kid? You do know who that is, right? Boba Fett’s one tough customer. You’d be better off not messing around with that barve.” He leaned down towards you, warning you off as if you were a child, trying to play with the older kids who would only include you in their games if it meant beating you within an inch of your life. You nodded, looking back with what you hoped was a steely determination.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

  The Bothan looked at you for a moment with great pity, as if he were gazing upon a creature that had just consigned itself to its doom. Heaving a sigh that quivered the fur lining his muzzle, the bartender turned and started preparing another drink.

  You couldn’t even look as the liquor was brought across the room by one of the ornate serving droids that wandered the cantina. You kept your head low, jiggling one leg on the stool beneath you, digging your fingernails into the glossy wood that encompassed the top of the bar. The minutes seemed to tick by excruciatingly, and you were overcome by the notion that maybe you should leave, get up and bolt when you still could, escape before Fett was aware of what fool had sent him the drink, go home to bed and forget any of this had ever happened. But too late - just as you were beginning to shift in your seat, to lean in the direction of the doorway and gather up the momentum to run, the bartender cleared his throat, causing your head to pop up at the sudden noise. The Bothan looked you in the eyes and did nothing but give you a subtle bob of his head, watching a point across the room. You followed his eyes, and stopped dead in your tracks.

  Boba Fett was staring at you.

  Openly leering at you was a better term for it, his entire body turned in your direction, lazily slumped in his seat, his legs spread comfortably wide. Kriff, this was just like your daydream. As soon as he was sure that he had your attention, and as if he had read your mind, one hand rose from its spot resting against the ample meat of his thigh, and two deft fingers hidden under an off-white glove of bantha leather beckoned you closer with a quick curling motion. It was an action that whispered, ‘ Come hither, my dear. Let’s play.’

  Your stomach lurched and your vision suddenly filled with black spots, and you bit down hard on your lower lip, the quick pain bringing you back from the brink of passing out. Your eyes refocused, the dark points fading away, and there he still sat, his position unchanged. He was waiting for you to come over. You looked back at the bartender for guidance - by now you were sure he had seen this song and dance played out here many times before - and the Bothan gave you a roll of his deep-set dark eyes, and a noncommittal shrug. He’d already written you off as another casualty, the sad result of human naïveté in the face of the galaxy’s bloodthirstiness.

  You rose from your stool on legs that felt as if they were made of bacta, your feet seeming to glide across the floor of the Atrium, bringing you ever closer to Boba Fett. The cantina patrons seemed to part like a sea for you, and you didn’t give a womp rat’s ass if they were staring, whispering about you. Your eyes and thoughts belonged only to the helmeted man who had beckoned you closer, and whose parted legs you were standing almost directly between when your long walk ended. You were so close that you could see yourself reflected in his blackened visor, dumbfounded. You were visibly trembling, and you could feel Fett’s body heat rolling off him, soaking into your own legs as you stood before him. It took you a moment to comprehend that he was waiting for you to speak, for you to make the first move.

  “...You’re here for Han Solo, aren’t you? Everyone knows you two have a rivalry and that you’ve been after him for ages now, and he’s here, and you’re here, and that can’t be a coincidence, right? It’s like -” The words rushed from your mouth in an excited torrent, and you were fully aware that you were babbling at him, but you couldn’t stop yourself if you tried. Every nerve-ending in your body felt sparked with the fire of a planet’s core, you were absolutely thrumming, and you didn’t care whether you sounded like an idiot in front of this man who you’d lusted after for ages, just as long as you were talking to him, that you had his attention. Mercifully, Fett’s palm came up, the same move he had used on the Zabraks earlier in the night. You stopped mid-sentence, your mouth still hanging upon, your eyes wide.

  “I’m here on business. What exactly that pertains to is none of your concern.” The reply was smooth and unhurried, and he didn’t even look at you. Boba Fett seemed much more concerned with what was going on outside the Atrium’s walls, his line of sight falling past you, towards the lights of the Administrator's Palace. Where Han Solo probably was, if the rumors of him being Leia Organa’s consort were true. So you were right. Even if he wouldn’t admit it in words, it was almost like the bounty hunter was showing you. At least, that’s how you chose to take it.

  “...Oh. Okay. ...Fair enough, I guess.” You cautiously replied, unsure of how to proceed when he offered no further conversation, and cringed inwardly. Stars , you were truly awful at small talk, especially with handsome men. No wonder you’d never gotten laid. Fett’s helmet snapped towards you like a sharp cut with a blade, his restraint with your dallying almost nonexistent, and you felt yourself flush hotly as you realized you’d just been staring blankly at him the entire time, drinking him up just as greedily as any Hutt would look upon a dancer. There was no way he couldn’t tell your intentions, and your confidence and excitability wavered. 

  “So what exactly is it that you want from me, girl? I don’t have the time nor the patience to be followed around and gifted tokens at bars by starry-eyed brats. Say what you will, or I’ll have you removed from my sight. Now .”

  There was ice in his voice, and you found yourself slightly afraid for the first time. The idea of Boba Fett growing angry with you was not something you wanted to experience. You had to say your piece now, or risk losing what you wanted forever. You balled your fists so hard that you were sure your nails were cutting through the skin of your palms, but you stood your ground. You weren’t going to let Fett intimidate you away from what you wanted of him, not now. You were too close.

  So you told him, blunt and straight to the point.

  “I’ve never been fucked. I want you to be my first.”

  Fett’s form stiffened in his seat, the gloved hand that had been nonchalantly resting on his thigh almost imperceptibly gripping the hard muscle beneath. You didn’t notice, nor were you able to sense the fact that he was holding his breath. 

  Despite the extraordinary self-control Boba Fett had cultivated over every aspect of his functions during his decades of bounty hunting, he felt his cock twitch involuntarily within the confines of his flight pants. He’d encountered plenty of cyar’tomade across the galaxy over the years, desperate creatures of all types looking to spend a night in his company just for the later bragging rights, others looking to fulfill some sort of bizarre erotic fantasy - he’d taken up plenty of those offers, and turned down even more. Boba Fett was a man who enjoyed sex, and he made no secret of the fact that he had been scoping the lounge for a prospective bedpartner after the meeting with Lieutenant Sheckil and his graysuits. That wretched smuggler Solo had a date with a carbonite chamber tomorrow evening after he and Vader’s planned ambush at the Administrator’s Palace in the morning, and Fett fully intended to vent some excess energy tonight before finally collecting on the barve’s hefty bounty. It was back to Jabba’s afterwards, and more bounties to collect on, and even less downtime. Fett enjoyed his life of solitude, practically thrived on it, but still… he was only human, and he had his needs. 

 What he hadn’t expected was being cornered and propositioned by a willing and eager virgin. And such a pretty thing, too. This was a first, and he had to admit he was already getting hard at the thought of teaching this naïf how to please a man, to be the one to take her like nobody had before, to show her just who exactly she was dealing with.

  “ Well … aren’t you a bold one.” He finally exhaled, still avoiding any semblance of eye contact with you, his focus seeming to be on stirring the cubes around his drink. You swallowed thickly, watching Fett’s index finger push the straw back and forth. He hadn’t touched the drink at all, but you didn’t care. You wanted that finger in your mouth, down your throat, glove and all, but shook yourself from the daydream when it occurred to you that Fett was watching, waiting for a response. 

  “I’ve found that fortune favors the bold.” You pushed yourself into the chair opposite him, trying to conceal how badly your legs were wobbling. You had waded chest-deep into completely unknown territory, and you felt as if you were going to faint at any moment if you didn’t take a seat. To emphasize your point, you reached out and grasped the drink you had sent to his table just minutes ago, tipping your head back and draining half of it in one swig. Your head swimming from the sudden rush of hard liquor, you settled the container back on the polished wood and steadied your gaze on the bounty hunter. Fett cocked his helmet at you, an amused snort emanating from underneath, a static edge to it thanks to the vocoder that helped conceal his voice. He laid his forearms on the table, leaning his upper body forward towards you, the posture of a gossiping schoolboy, mocking and insolent.

  “And what makes you think I’d want to be the one to break you in, vaar’ika ?”

  He almost purred the question, sickly sweet. There was no outright malice there, no, but he was teasing you; you could hear the laughter in his voice. You could tell he thought you were nothing but a stupid little girl who didn’t know what she was getting herself into, and it shamed you into silence. You felt your throat tightening, your eyes starting to burn, and you begged yourself, ‘ Don’t you dare start crying and prove him right. You know what you came here for. Don’t you dare. ’ But it was much easier said than done, and your attempt to coax yourself out of this panic only seemed to deepen it. You came this close to fulfilling your fantasy, you could have practically reached out and touched it, but it all had to fall to pieces because you were really nothing but a blubbering baby. You weren’t worthy of being with Boba Fett, and it had been a pipedream to think so even for a moment. 

  “I… I-I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking , coming here. I’ve made an ass of myself and I’ve completely wasted your time, I’m so sorry -”

  Your eyes brimming with embarrassed tears, hot and heavy on your lashes and threatening to spill over at any moment, you ducked your head and pushed the chair out as quickly as you could, moving to brush past the still-seated bounty hunter and make a break for it out into the cool night air. With a harsh gasp, you felt yourself suddenly being jerked back by the elbow, almost stumbling with the force of the pull. Boba Fett’s gauntleted hand was gripping your arm in an iron hold, the black void of his visor locked onto your face. There was no way to tell, of course, and you couldn’t say how you knew, but you could have sworn he was smiling at you.

  “ I didn’t say no , little one . Tell me again what you want of me.” Fett intoned evenly, but not unkindly, releasing his hold on you. To your shock, he ran his hand down your arm as he let you go, and it almost felt - of all things - reassuring . Arousal pooled to your core so quickly at Fett’s surprisingly soft touch and tone that it took you a few extra moments to even register what he had said.

 ‘He didn’t say no. It wasn’t possible. Does he actually want to? ...And he called me ‘little one.’

  You could have died then and there, on the plush carpeted floor of the Paradise Atrium, but your words found you, every ounce of courage in your frame flooding through your veins at once.

  “Take me back to your ship. Let me give myself to you. I want to be yours tonight… only yours. Please .” You laid a trembling hand on his wrist, still expecting to be violently brushed away, told to back off and go home if you knew what was good for you, threatened with disintegration or a blaster shot to the chest or something . But the harsh gesture or violent threat never came. The scarred green helmet tilted downwards to regard your fingers clutching at the armor, and after a quiet beat, Boba Fett’s gaze returned yours. Although you couldn’t see the eyes hidden behind that dark, T-shaped visor, you could feel them burrowing into your very soul, sweeping over you greedily, like a prize to be taken. Shivers rippled up your arms and your stomach rolled, but you weren’t afraid. Not anymore. Silently, you withdrew your fingers, letting your hands fall limply to your sides, and Fett nodded, seemingly satisfied with your plea. 

  “As you wish, nehutyc’ika. Come, then.” With that, Boba Fett stood in one swift motion, and held one palm out for you to take, open and inviting.

  You felt as if you’d been kicked in the chest. You were instantly sober, any trace of alcohol from the night’s earlier wallowing fully flushed from your system by the influx of adrenaline currently screaming through your body. Your skin felt like it was on fire, and for a brief moment you wondered if he was playing with you, if this were some sort of sick joke, but you knew in the deepest recess of your heart that it wasn’t. He was serious. He’d made a career out of not backing down on deals. Boba Fett was a man of his word. 

  So you took his hand and let yourself be spirited away into the night by a figure from your best daydreams, and from other creatures’ worst nightmares.

[glitxhwayventeen]

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow

Minghao: Chapter 1 (Sirens)

Characters: Minghao x female reader

Genre/Warnings: multi-member au (different scenarios), werewolf au, fantasy, smut, angst, fluff, potential blood mentions, genocide, runaways, domestic violence, child abuse, blood mentions, death mentions, gang activity mentions, lots of dick jokes, suggestive content, tiny drug mention if you squint, violence. Any others will be put as warnings when future chapters are thought up/written.

Author’s Note: I recommend listening to Sirens by Cher Lloyd. It’s a strange choice I know. It doesn’t necessarily go with this chapter. But i think it’s actually a pretty good song, so I used it for a loose inspiration for Minghao’s opening Chapter.

Please remember that all of these chapters and the content within them are a work of fiction! They’re just for fun/entertainment!

Bold= Dialogue Italics= Thoughts

Slight 🥀 but mostly ☁️

We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow Master List

Chapter 1: Sirens

These last few days have been some of the best days of Minghao’s life. Not to say he’s had a bad one, he actually considered himself quite fortunate in that aspect compared to his brothers. Most of his pack didn’t even know what Minghao had done before he joined them. They just figured it wasn’t anything good. He had this… bad boy aura about him that they couldn’t quite place. So no one really ever wanted to fuck with him, not that he was complaining. I mean don’t get me wrong, he could do some SERIOUS damage to an opponent, he just didn’t want to have to. He was done with and over all the fighting. He fought his whole life. Now, he was tired. Boy, was he tired. He got so tired sometimes that it felt like his bones were scraping each other and if he didn’t lay down in the middle of whatever he was doing, they’d crack and break apart from his body. He’d never tell his brothers that though, he didn’t like them worrying about him. He wasn’t helpless, he was quite capable of taking care of himself and others. He just never had to because he had the Alphas looking out for the pack all the time. It wasn’t his problem to watch out for anyone and he liked it that way.

That is, until he met you. Before you, he saw the world for all its horrors and terrors. With you around, he saw all its beauty and grace. He never thought that imprinting would be like this. He felt almost high when you were around. No one ever really explained it all in depth to him. He didn’t realize that just someone saying your name would make his heart jump out of his chest. He took one look at you and he realized you were all he cared about. Sure he loved his brothers, but he knew if push came to shove they could protect themselves. Apart of him knew that of course you could too, but for the first time, he actually WANTED to take care of someone.

He always needed to be sure you were okay. He’d ask how you slept, if you ate, how you were feeling, if you were happy. It frazzled his brothers, he’d never done that with them. It was strange seeing such a loving side of him. They knew he loved them because they were his brothers, but they absolutely KNEW he loved you because you were his mate. But seeing him worry himself sick over your well-being was… different to say the least. They were actually pretty sure you had replaced him with an identical looking version of himself when they weren’t looking because, again, he just wasn’t even acting like the Minghao they knew.

You didn’t mind of course. You actually loved that he cared for you so much. You were so tired of having to take care of yourself for all this time. You didn’t think you were very good at it and, quite frankly, it was exhausting. You had been on the run for centuries before you met the pack. It was lonely and if there was anything in this world that you actually hated, it was being all alone. You came from a tribe where the bigger the family, the better. You missed it. So when you realized Minghao had imprinted on you, you couldn’t have been more happy. Because now, not only did you get a mate who loved you more than life itself, but you got his crazy pack brothers too. You figured he loved you anyway, he hadn’t actually said the words to you yet, still, you could just… feel it. You could even feel that his brothers loved you. They reminded you a lot of your original brothers. They were loud and rambunctious, and they’d do anything to protect you because you were their brothers mate. It was perfect.

As you both lay asleep in your now shared bed, you cuddled on top of his toned chest like always, you heard a loud, almost in human, scream from outside. It made you jump almost a foot in the air, and had you falling in the floor. You had let your instincts and guard down quite a bit since you came to live with them a few weeks ago because you felt safe. So the terrible noise from outside scared you a great deal. Minghao was quick to act of course, rushing to scoop you in his arms and quietly rocking you to calm you down.

“Shh. It’s okay baby it’s gone now. Don’t worry. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He spoke softly as he stroked your hair gently, still rocking you in place.

“I- I know I just wasn’t expecting it. Who the hell screams like that this early in the morning?” You questions, both of you knowing it was more rhetorical than anything.

“More like who screams like that in general.” Minghao said, half joking and half concerned, though he was trying his best to hide it from you.

He had come to realize any sounds out of the ordinary could set you off into a panic attack. He didn’t like seeing you scared, and he didn’t like your heart rate spiking for anyone or anything other than himself.

“I just hope it’s over now-” you start, but just as you were about to finish your sentence, another loud screech forced you to jump from Minghao’s arms and hide under the bed.

He knew he couldn’t help it, it was now part of your instinct to hide in the darkest place possible from danger as you were out alone in the woods for decades and it was the way you kept yourself alive. Still, he couldn’t help the small whine that came from within his chest as he saw you hiding. He hated the fear in your eyes, it made him feel so helpless. He tried to coax you out from under his bed by trying to tell you it was just a passing noise. But, once again, the noise came back. Except this time, you actually managed to hear it without the sleepiness or your mating pull clouding it. Oh no! You quickly go out from under the bed and grabbed onto Minghao.

“Hao, where are the other boys??” You asked quickly, the fear in your eyes seeming to amplify.

“Probably asleep, like we should be so let’s-” he tried, still wanting to attempt to get more hours.

“No Hao! We need to find them. We need to find ALL OF THEM right now!” You all but yell as you quickly grabbed a pair of shorts, slipped them on, and threw open your bedroom door.

“(Y/N)! What the hell?? They’re all sleeping come on let’s go back to bed” Minghao whined, clearly not understanding the gravity of the situation.

You ignored him as you opened the door closest to your bedroom, you were greeted with Chan sitting on the edge of his bed, you could tell he was also woken up by the loud scream. Good, he’s safe. Now the others.

You then opened the door across the hall from your room. In it, you found Seungcheol yawning putting on pants in order to try and investigate the strange noise. You then pushed open Joshua and Jeonghan’s rooms, in them, you found both boys to be just as shocked from your actions as Minghao was. But nevertheless they were safe so you didn’t care how crazy you looked. After them, you dashed to Jun and Soonyoung’s shared room, letting out a quick relieved sigh seeing them both already standing close to their door.

You kept doing this until you had finished your rounds of Jihoon’s, Seokmin’s, Seungkwan’s, Wonwoo’s, and Hansol’s rooms respectively. You were so beyond happy that all the boys were okay that you almost cried real tears, they were already brimming at your waterlines.

“(Y/N), we all heard the noise. But it just sounded like someone yelling. We’re all fine. You worry too much.” Seungcheol assured you, giving you a small pat on the head to show gratitude for your care for them.

“No Seungcheol. You don’t understand. That wasn’t just any random villager screaming. That was something more vile than you could even imagine. And it prays on men, specifically horny-” you stopped yourself mid-sentence. “Wait.” You paused. “WHERE’S MINGYU??” you said, realizing very quickly that one of the wolves you were thinking of while saying your piece was unaccounted for.

You dashed to his room and busted the door open. And sure enough, his big ass form was there laying in bed, sleeping like a baby. Thank God.

“Alright. Somebody’s been hanging around Jun’s paranoid ass too long.” Hansol joked your way, earning a chuckle from a few others as well.

“Hey!” Junhui tried to defend himself.

“No you guys don’t get it. That scream, that was a siren’s victory call. I was legitimately worried for your lives.” You protested, Minghao coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist.

“A siren? What’s that?” Chan asked as all the boys looked to you for elaboration.

Boy, you sometimes forgot how young and inexperienced with the supernatural they were. They were far better with people than you were that’s for sure, but when it came down to other magical beings, it was like you were speaking a different language. And you only really ever did that with the foreign wolves as you knew both English and Chinese.

“A siren’s one of the most deadly creatures you can find. They look like regular people, most of the time, they’re absolutely beautiful. That’s what makes them so scary, they look like angels. But they’re pure evil, they lure people to their deaths late at night, mostly men. Mostly horny men. They use them for sex, to procreate. Then they kill them in brutal, horrible ways. Afterwards, they let out that God awful scream. That’s why I got so worried with you guys, I thought that…” you trailed off, shrugging your shoulders slightly.

“That what? One of us got our dick wet and our head chopped off?” Joshua laughed out, clearly amused that you considered them all horny men.

“Well yeah, kind of. You can’t blame me. I know what most of you go to the village for late at night. When I realized what the scream was, I just had to make sure you were right. I didn’t want to wake up the next morning to have to go out and find a fucking body.” You huffed as Minghao gave you a small peck on your shoulder to try and ease your tension.

“Well, thank you for caring for our safety. But we’re big boys. We can take care of ourselves. Well most of us…” Soonyoung assured you, standing more proud than he should’ve as he looked at Jeonghan.

“Yeah… that’s kind of what I’m worried about…” you let the joke pass your lips, trying your best not to laugh.

The other boys went into a roar of laughter as Jeonghan tried his best to hide his own amusement behind a fake angry face. The laughter seemed to be just enough noise to wake the life of the party up finally.

“Hey guys” Mingyu yawned. “What’s gonna on? Why are we laughing?”

“Well (Y/N) seems to think we’re gonna get our dicks chopped off.” Jeonghan responded to Mingyu, earning another quick chuckle and a slap from Jihoon.

“Oh well… that’s nice… any particular reason it’s me and you or is everyone else invited to the dick chopping party too?” Mingyu spoke again, trying his best to hide his obvious confusion with a joke.

“No man. It’s mostly you two.” Laughed Seungkwan. “You’re the ones who always seem to need to bury your dicks in something, not us”

You snort as you turn yourself to bury your face into Minghao’s chest, now wanting to go back to sleep knowing everyone’s alright.

“Alright alright you horny kids. All jokes aside.” Joshua spoke up. “(Y/N) how serious is this siren threat?”

“Well I’ve seen one siren take out half a town before. So pretty serious I’d gather. I dont know where all this dick chopping came into the conversation, but I’d say everyone needs to stay inside once it gets dark out until further notice, just to be safe” you mumble out from Minghao’s chest.

“Okay guys. You heard the all knowing wolf lady” Seungcheol said, earning a playful glare from you. “No more going out at night. Not for a while. No exceptions. All dicks must remain in tact” he declared.

“Aw man” Mingyu pouted, he was disappointed but also understood that the pack’s safety came before his hormones.

You let out a small giggle as Minghao lightly laughed as he placed a little kiss on the top of your head.

“No that’s enough excitement for one night. Everyone back to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning.” Joshua decided, ushering everyone back into their rooms.

Once your bedroom door was closed, Minghao picked you up mumbled an “I’m exhausted” before he placed you on the bed, the bags formed under his eyes showing you just how tired he must be. He joined you moments later and hovered himself over you.

“Do you really think the guys will stay inside because of the siren?” He questions while moving a lock of your hair behind your ear. You clasp your hands behind the back of his neck and place with his hair.

“Hmm. Don’t know. I guess we’ll see. If someone wakes up without a dick, we’ll know they didn’t listen” you said with a cheeky ass smile, much to the delight of your loving mate.

“Got it, no dick means they’re the siren’s bitch” he said aloud causing you to chuckle at his thought process.

“I promise I’ll still wake up with mine though” he added, earning a sweet smile from you. God, what did he do to deserve such a cute little mate?

“Good. I’d be real disappointed if you woke up with it gone.” You playfully pout, stroking his cheek during your sentence to further add to your point.

“Well you know how I hate to disappoint love” he said, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he pecked your lips with a bit more passion than you thought he would’ve used this early in the morning.

“I thought you were tired?” You questioned as best you could while he was trailing his kisses down to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin gently.

“I was.” He mumbled into the crevice of your neck. “But I realized just how hard it is to resist your cute self. So now I’m thinking of some… other things we haven’t quite gotten to just yet” he answered with a playful smirk, making his intention completely obvious to you. Boy, this morning was already off to a fun start.

Another Author’s Note: I know what you guys are thinking, you’re thinking I meant succubus. But I meant Siren. There’s many different versions of both and I just happened to use the Siren version where they sing the men to lure them to their deaths on land. On another note, I finished three chapters in one day. I’m a bit proud not even gonna lie. I hope you guys liked this one. Minghao’s next chapter will be smut as I want to get their first time together out of the way as soon as possible. I don’t really know why. It just feels right you know?

(Updated 7/27)

[gellavonhamster]

cold weapons

Suicide Squad (2016) || Captain Boomerang/Katana || post-canon

ao3 link eng || this was first written and published on ao3 in Russian in 2017 but I didn't attempt to translate it into English back then.  

“So, what do you think of them?” Colonel Flag asks.

Tatsu puts the folder containing the rap sheet of Waylon Jones, better known as Killer Croc, on top of three other folders.

“They’re complicated,” she replies after giving it some thought.

The materials in these folders could have formed her first impression about the members of Task Force X – or, as Lawton has aptly put it, the Suicide Squad. Could have, but did not, because they were given their first task earlier than expected. Which is why she doesn’t say “villains” or “scoundrels” or “worst team imaginable” – her first impression of them was formed in combat, and then in an empty bar in Midway City where they all drank together thinking it may be the last drink in their lives. She remembers all of this and says ‘complicated’.  

“Very tactful of you,” the colonel chuckles. Then again, what kind of colonel is he now – an unwashed shirt, black circles under the eyes. Just another guy struggling with a deluge of work, a hard-hearted boss, and a troubled relationship with his girlfriend. “But yeah, they definitely aren’t simple,” continues Rick Flag, one of her few friends in the country that will never become her home, and Tatsu cannot suppress a tired smile.  

“You like them.”

“They’re… tolerable,” Rick admits, and takes another sip of coffee. Lately he seems to be living only on coffee and whiskey and the verb “must” and (so Tatsu supposes, although they don’t talk about that) the hope that June Moone, who still hasn’t fully recovered from all the horrors she’s been through, will be all right – and will stop isolating herself and avoiding him. These means for not letting yourself just fall down and never get up are far from being reliable, but Tatsu herself lives mostly on revenge and duty and, for that matter, whiskey as well, to a certain degree, so it’s not for her to judge. “Most of them, at least. All of them minus the Australian.”

“At least he’s a good fighter,” Tatsu points out. This is the only good thing she can say about Captain Boomerang with full confidence.  

“He’s not cut out for teamwork.”

“When we were fighting the Enchantress, it didn’t look to me like that.”

She does not put much meaning into these words. It’s just that at some point Captain Boomerang saved her, and she saved him – and good thing they’re even, because the last thing she needs is to owe a favour to someone so incompatible with the very concept of duty. She could have said much about the man who tried to escape at the very beginning of the mission and got a teammate killed (and for some reason stood up for El Diablo when Harley Quinn lashed out at him at the bar, and for some reason came back before the battle after trying to desert), but the only thing she’s sure of is that he’s a fine weapon; she can confirm that, being a weapon herself. At the end of the day, that is all that’s required from him.      

At the end of the day, that is all that’s required from her, too.

 ***

 It is possible that what she said about Digger Harkness sticks in Rick’s memory, because when the need to comb the area arises during the next mission, he sends the two of them to search through the same building.

“If he gets up to something, do whatever you want to him. No one’s gonna weep for him,” he flings off. This is in the heat of the moment, of course – Boomerang almost got into a fight with Killer Croc on the helicopter over some nonsense. Or rather, it was Croc that almost got into a fight with Boomerang after the latter provoked him. Complicated.  

“You heard that, darl?” Boomerang addresses her with a smile so wide as if he hasn’t heard the last remark. “I’m all yours.”

Tatsu looks the other way and pointedly takes her sword out of its sheath – not completely, just a little. No further comments follow, and they part company – Deadshot with Croc, Flag with his team of spec ops, Tatsu with Boomerang – and go on a recce.  

In the basement, they discover something that looks like a laboratory – if a place so far from being sanitary may even be called one. All their hopes to move without making a sound crumble as soon as they enter the room: the floor is covered with broken glass. Those who ran the place must have escaped in haste and couldn’t take the entire stock of the serum with them, so they opted to destroy most of it. Tatsu’s attention is immediately drawn to the object on the table in the middle of the room – a metal container with tubes going from it to several smaller vessels. She heads straight for the table, shards crunching underfoot. Boomerang follows her, apparently kicking the largest shards on purpose so that they fly in all directions.      

“Looks like a hooch still,” he comments, having come closer, and gives a whistle. “Whoa, fuck, is that blood?”

Compared to the first task of their squad, this one looks almost effortless. Two gangs, the members of one of which possess the formula of the serum that grants superpowers to those who take it. A gun battle, collateral damage, the entire district on lockdown. If a few people weren’t noticed literally floating through the sky, the police would have been handling this. But this is an emergency, which is why they’re here, and the flying gangsters aren’t flying anymore, for Lawton is an exceptionally good shot.    

As it turns out, the serum that sparked the conflict is based on metahuman blood – hardly donated voluntarily.

“I’ll contact Colonel Flag,” says Tatsu, eyes locked on the bloodied tubes, and then someone grabs her by the neck.

For the first time in her life, she really has to fight blindly – because her enemy is invisible.  

Later, when the dead bodies gradually become visible on the floor like an eerie animated movie, it turns out there were four of them. Before that, Tatsu manages to lose her sword, recapture it, almost choke when an invisible hand squeezes her neck, slash one of the attackers in half, and plunge the blade into another’s stomach. Boomerang takes care of the other two, knocking over the container in the process.    

Tatsu is listening to the silence that came after the fight, wondering if any other invisible foes are lurking around the corner, when she feels that something is wrong. Something is wrong with her – she just can't figure out what. Sometimes it happens that one feels unwell but cannot determine what exactly the problem is – she is experiencing something similar now. Until she realizes: the mask. Until she looks up and makes eye contact with Captain Boomerang, who is staring at her and grinning.  

“You lost anything, doll?” Harkness inquires innocently, with an emphasis on the last word, and his smile grows even wider and cockier.  

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. The invisible man she fought hand to hand tore off her mask, and she didn’t even notice. But her partner, blast him, did – and picked it up.  

“Give it back,” Tatsu demands, hand outstretched. She feels naked. In combat, during the mission, she is Katana, a single whole with her sword. A cold weapon. No one needs to see her face. Truly, if she was wearing only the mask and nothing else, she would have felt less exposed – all right, this is an overstatement, and she doesn’t even want to imagine such a situation. Meanwhile, Boomerang is in no hurry to return the mask.      

“What did ya call me when that fucker was about to stab me?” he asks. Tatsu clenches the sword hilt. There is no telling how many enemies drunk on the magic serum are hiding in this house, and he’s dawdling. “You said…”

Damn it, what did she say? She saw one of the invisibles creeping up on him while he was fighting another – a bloodstain was floating through the air. She shouted…

“I said ‘George’”. Isn’t your name George Harkness?”

“You bet it is. It’s just weird. Most people don’t call me George, y’know.”  

“How do they call you then?”

“Digger. Boomerang. Boomer. That Prick. All sorts of things, but never George. But you,” he winks, “can call me whatever ya want. I liked the way you say my name.”

“Give. Me. The mask.”

“And the magic word?”

“I will chop your hand off,” as a proof of her intentions, she puts the blade against his extended hand that is holding her mask. In fact, she would face no consequences for doing so. No one’s gonna weep for him.      

Harkness makes a helpless gesture and hands her the mask.

“Can’t say no to you, luv.”

The mask helps her conceal her identity, but what is more important is that it helps her conceal needless emotions. Tatsu really hopes that her facial expression isn’t giving away that she’s ill at ease now. This is a weakness; weaknesses are not to be demonstrated. She feels deeply relieved when she puts the mask back on.  

“Let’s get out of here,” she commands, turns around, and heads for the exit. Harkness trails behind.

“It ain’t fair, by the way. You know my real name, but I don’t know yours,” he muses. “Care to introduce yourself, eh?”  

He asks the same question at least three times more before they return to Belle Reve, and each time she ignores him.

 ***

 A week later, he still doesn’t know her name – but he learns something else.

They do away with the last members of the recent gang on the outskirts of the city. Both wretches have overused the unfortunate serum, in keeping with the best traditions of the clichéd movies about superheroes and supervillains that Hollywood keeps producing for some reason, even though it is more and more often possible to see nearly the same thing on the news. As a result, one of them got puffed up almost to the size of the creature that Superman died fighting, and the other couldn’t control the flames bursting from his mouth. He burned half of the shopping centre with customers, retail workers, and guards. With teenagers in the bowling alley on the second floor and children in the playroom on the first.    

Santana… wouldn’t have approved.

Both problems eliminated, they leave: the firefighters and the cops will take it from here. Flag’s spec ops stay behind, because officially it is their victory; the general public shouldn’t know about the existence of Task Force X. Through backyards, they retreat in the direction of the abandoned construction site on the other side of the street; a car has been sent to pick them up there.  

There is a workers’ trailer still standing by the construction pit. The door is not locked, and Rick, Deadshot, Croc, and Boomerang go inside. Jones’s arm is broken: his inhuman strength notwithstanding, he still was no match for his enemy – not the fire-breather, but the other one. Tatsu leaves them to figure out how to make a temporary sling, and wanders away. Not far from the trailer, a piece of tarpaulin stretched over the fence has come off, and she can see the building across the street. Tatsu sits down on the ground, puts her arms around her knees, and stares at the dandelions growing by the fence.  

In her head, flames are raging.

She doesn’t look up, neither when she hears the footsteps approaching, nor when Harkness – and it is him, no one else in the Squad reeks of the mixture of booze and cologne like that – sits down next to her and cracks open a can of beer.  

“You want some?” he nudges her. What extraordinary generosity. It is, however, perfectly possible that if she says yes, he’ll reply along the lines of “Well, then go and buy yourself some.”  

“No,” Tatsu replies without looking and, after a short pause, adds, “Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

With a sigh, she accepts the can from his hands, and takes a sip.

“This is disgusting,” she whispers, and takes another.  

Harkness just snorts and opens another one. For a little while, they sit side by side in silence, drinking each from their own can, and study the wall opposite through the mesh of the fence – like out of a prison window. Old advertisements that are half torn off, graffiti, a writing proclaiming that life fucks us all – plenty of things to stare at to avoid looking the person next to you in the eye.  

“So what the hell happened to ya?” Boomerang asks, and suddenly she could do with some serum for invisibility or, better yet, disappearing completely. Naturally, it is a fleeting impulse; she has no right to disappear. She has obligations – towards Flag, towards Waller. Towards herself.    

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? You zoned out, Flag shouted himself hoarse before you heard him. Like you were someplace else. Didn’t ya?”  

Why do you need to know? Tatsu thinks. If she almost rushed headlong into the fire, it’s her own business. If it only seemed to her that someone was there, it’s her own business. If she’s going to see things that aren’t there for the rest of her life, it’s her own business. He shouldn't have spoken. There is something comforting about being silent together.    

“Nah, you don’t have to say if you don’t wanna,” Boomerang assents, and takes another pull on his can. “I just thought that you, well. Might wanna talk to someone.”  

And they fall silent again. Yet now Tatsu feels awkward, which makes her angry at herself. She’s not obliged to pour out her heart to anyone who shows something that looks like care.    

This silence doesn’t make it any easier.

“I have… bad memories,” she finally says. Now it won’t be as awkward: she answered his question. It won’t be, right? “About a fire”.

Harkness nods, looking at her attentively.

“Someone you knew died, aye?”

“My children,” she hears herself say, and wishes to disappear again.

“Fuck,” Boomerang says, embarrassed, and – unbelievable – looks like he actually feels bad about starting this conversation. “I’m sorry, I… well, uh, I had no idea.”  

“It’s okay,” Tatsu says mechanically. Nothing is okay: she can still see Yuki’s tear-stained face, still hear Reiko’s voice, she is still watching the flames run up the curtains that she and Maseo picked together, she is still breathing in the smoke and still cannot believe she deserves a gulp of fresh air. She should have saved them. All of them.  

Boomerang looks at her incredulously but doesn’t say anything, and bit by bit, the silence that she doesn’t want to run from returns – the kind of silence in which one is not alone.    

Then there are footsteps again, and Flag approaches them.

“There you are,” he says with relief as soon as he sees her. Rick does not let himself overstep the limits of formality – they’re on a mission, after all – but he has obviously been worried. At the sight of Harkness, he frowns warily. “You! Quit getting on her nerves.”

“Who’s gettin’ on her nerves, Colonel? I was just tryin’ to help,” Harkness protests. It appears Rick’s words have wounded him a little.  

“He was,” Tatsu says. “It’s all under control, Colonel Flag.”  

Flag shifts his gaze to her and then to Boomerang again, and nods.

“Okay. In any case… follow me. We’re leaving.”

Tatsu gives her unfinished beer to Boomerang.

“Don’t talk about this to anyone,” she tells him. This might be an order or a request; she doesn’t really know.

He nods, and she thinks absentmindedly: who would have thought this man knows how to make a solemn face.

“Thank you,” she says again, hoping that he understands that this is not just about the beer or his promise to keep his mouth shut.

***

 After a few days, Tatsu comes to visit him. In prison.

Actually, she comes to visit all of them, of course. Not more than fifteen minutes alone with each of them – Waller wouldn’t allow more. This request seems to have surprised her, but Tatsu is certain that Waller is already picturing the new threads she can use to manipulate her special operations puppets. So it is possible that one day this decision will blow up in Tatsu’s face – or in the faces of all of them. But she cannot shake off the feeling that she must do this – so that someone except Rick, who is already dealing with a lot these days, would notice in time if the inmates are treated with undeserved cruelty. So that she knows what’s on their minds, because it is safer to fight side by side with the people whose line of thought she can understand at least roughly. So that there is some kind of variety in their lives between the missions.  

This is why she visits all three of them. Killer Croc, who looks like he’s not surprised to see her in the slightest and doesn’t really seems to care that she came, but doesn’t have any issue with that either. Deadshot, who looks like he is surprised, but doesn’t seem to mind answering her questions when she notices a stack of letters in the corner and asks him how his daughter is doing. And Captain Boomerang, who, when she enters his cell, looks like he can’t figure out if he’s dreaming.

“Katana?” he frowns perplexedly. He’s stripped to his waist, so she can see a couple of fresh scars he brought back from the last mission, and he’s got a black eye – when Tatsu saw him last, he had not. Must have quarrelled with the guards again. “What are you doing here?”  

“I came to see you.”

For a moment he seems not to understand what she just said. Then he breaks into a smile – or rather a grin, wide and pleased. Very pleased.  

“Aha! Knew it would end up like this,” he pronounces in triumph.

“Like this?”

“You,” he looks like he’s just proven a theorem of immense complexity, “missed me.”  

“I haven’t missed you, Captain.”

A very, very pleased grin.

“And still you’re here.”

“I visited Deadshot and Killer Croc earlier,” Tatsu says, and sees his facial expression change instantly. Not for long: the grin is quick to return, and she wouldn’t be able to tell right away that he’s disappointed.    

“Did ya now? And how are our fellas doing? Better than me, I reckon?”

“So it would seem. Did you fight the guards?”

“Why do you care, gorgeous?”

Indeed, why does she? Most likely, he picked a fight himself – and got his just deserts.  

“Make up your mind,” Tatsu says, “if you think that I missed you or that I don’t care.”

Harkness chuckles and really seems to ponder over this for a while.

“Beats me,” he concludes at last. “Care to throw some light on it?”  

No, Tatsu thinks, I don’t get it myself and I’m not sure I want to.

Instead of answering, she comes closer to him – so close that she can smell his sweat – and studies his face. She has to look up to be able to do that, which must look comical. Then again, he’s hardly stupid enough to laugh at her height or anything else about her, especially when she’s armed and he is not.  

“You lost a tooth. What happened?”

“Didn’t get along with one of the Wall’s watchdogs.”

“You could have tried not to look for trouble for a change,” all of a sudden, Tatsu realizes that she’s mad. Really mad at him. They might get dragged to another mission this instant; whether they like it or not, they have to be in good enough shape to protect the society that the most of them have to atone before at least partially. They shouldn’t spend their energy and health on nonsense. Black eyes and knocked-out teeth are nothing, but it mustn’t come to any of them being out of action when all of them are needed. All their powers, all their skills. All the anger they should rather aim at something other than the people who can just press a certain button at any point – and dispose of the wilful weapon.

Boomerang bares his teeth – not like Croc, of course, but still threateningly. He looks dangerous now – big, sturdy, more than a head taller than her. But he still isn’t more dangerous than her – and both of them are aware of that.  

“And they could have tried,” he speaks through his teeth, “not to talk shit about my mother for a change. They wanna talk shit about me, they can knock themselves out. I’ve heard enough ‘bout myself, I don’t give a flying fuck about what else they gonna say. But they’d better leave my mother out of it.”

So that’s what it is. They have found a quick and easy way to infuriate the man who has “MUM” tattooed on his chest. In uneven letters, like a child's handwriting. Tatsu noticed that tattoo as soon as she came in but didn’t look too closely at it. Now she feels like she has the right to look, to let her gaze slip lower, at the ridiculous writing that heaves with each furious breath of his, and then to avert her eyes at once.    

“They have power, and you have nothing,” she says. “Do you enjoy being their plaything?”

“Oh, so I’m a plaything, darl? And do I have much choice who to be now? In these four walls, and,” Boomerang points at his neck, at the place where a bomb is implanted under his skin, “with this crap in my neck?”  

Tatsu looks up again, right him in the eye.

“You already know who you are,” she tells him. “You’re a weapon. Broken weapons get discarded. And you’re letting them break you.”  

He stays silent, just looks at her in an odd manner, as if she’s speaking another language but he has a vague understanding of what she’s saying and doesn’t like what he just heard – because it is the truth.

Tatsu still doesn’t understand why she cares, and with each passing minute she has less and less desire to learn why.  

“Also,” she continues, “if you call me ‘darl’ or ‘gorgeous’ one more time, you’re going to regret opening your mouth.”

“Yeah? And how should I call ya?”

“Katana.”

“What, and that’s all? Nah, we might be weapons,” and she probably ought to remind him that there is no ‘we’, but in this particular case he’s right. Perhaps that is why Tatsu feels drawn to all of them: they’re cut from the same cloth, “but we’re alive as well. So far. Seriously, what’s yer real name? You know mine.”  

“I should not disclose that.”  

“Oh, come on. Listen,” he breaks into a pleased grin again. Another theorem proven. “How about a deal? You tell me yer name, and I will try to keep my temper if anyone else decides to stir me up. What do ya think?”    

“As if you’re going to keep your word.”

Boomerang makes a show of putting his hand over his heart.

“For you, ma’am… anything.”

For you. All at once, she recalls Rick’s words: do whatever you want to him. How many minutes of the visit she has already spent on this predictably fruitless conversation?    

“My name is Tatsu Yamashiro,” she says, tired, and then he smiles – not the way he did before, but in a calmer and more sincere manner. Gratefully.

“George Harkness,” he offers her his hand with an earnest air. “Nice to meet ya.”  

Tatsu hesitantly offers him hers. Her hand looks very small and fragile against his huge paw, and he must be thinking the same because the handshake comes out very careful. He could easily break her wrist. She could easily kill him with one hand afterwards. But he holds her hand gently in his warm, pleasantly calloused palm, and Tatsu hastens to take her hand away, because this is a mistake of an even worse kind than the time he saw her without the mask.  

“So you promise not to fights the guards.”

“I promise to try,” Harkness assures, but he’s keeping one hand behind his back.

“Don’t cross your fingers,” Tatsu says sternly. Real mature.

With a sigh, Boomerang repeats his promise, this time holding his hands within her view.

“But I ain’t promisin’ not to call you gorgeous,” he declares in the end.

“You know my name now.”

“But you’re still gorgeous.”

“Time’s up!” shouts the guard outside the door, and Tatsu cannot help feeling relieved that she has to go. She doesn’t regret visiting him, but all of this is too strange and awkward, and both of them might be weapons, but her position is different from his, and it is better not to forget that.    

“Can I do anything for you?” she asks him on parting.  

“Well,” Boomerang smirks. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“With something I would actually agree to do?”

“Come again. Will ya?” This time he isn’t flirting; this time she can feel his insecurity, even shyness. As if he doesn’t like to admit to himself that what she answers is really important to him.  

“I’ll try,” she says cautiously. She’s not going to make any promises: she asked Waller about one time only. She doubts if she’ll be allowed to visit them again – to visit him again.  

“Try,” Harkness repeats, as if weighing the word on his tongue. “This means no.”

“This means I’ll try,” Tatsu says firmly.

And she comes again in a week. And the week after next. And a week after that.  

 ***

 “Why didn’t you walk away in Midway City?” Tatsu asks him once. “When Rick broke the control panel. You left then; why did you return?”  

A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since the time Captain Boomerang dared to smart off Amanda Waller. Several successful missions, slightly more respectful attitude on his part – and his cell already bears a passing resemblance to a place for living, even if for living quite miserably. Now there is even a table, and a chair that she gets to sit on as guest privilege. Harkness is sitting on the floor opposite her. The question seems to catch him unawares, but only for a moment.    

“Huh? Why did I return? Gotta live up to my name, that’s why. Have you ever thrown a boomerang, luv?”

I’m going to throw you somewhere one day, Tatsu thinks, yet without much irritation.

“And jokes aside?”

Boomerang attempts to feign an offended sigh.

“How do ya think? Plenty of options, all right. You gonna try to guess which one?”

Tatsu frowns.

“Is this a psychoanalysis session? Were you bitten by Harley Quinn?”

“Nah, Blondie didn’t bite me, I would’ve remembered. So don’t be jealous,” his voice gets playful again, and Tatsu stifles the urge to roll her eyes. “Lookie here… suppose I suddenly realized that I can’t leave you guys! ‘Cause you’re my mates. One for all, and so on. Don’t believe me?”

“You said something about plenty of options. What are the rest of them?”

He scratches his chin thoughtfully.

“We-e-ell… the second, ‘course, is that I wanted to save the world. Not that the world smiles upon me every bloody day, but I still wanna live! And for everyone an’ their mother to know that the bastards like us can also be heroes. Don’t you like being one of the good guys, eh, Tatsu?”

“I’m not ‘one of the good guys’”, Tatsu protests. “And it’s not me that we’re talking about. Any other options?”

“There was no point in leaving. That was still gonna be the end of the world, aye? So I’d rather meet it in battle and in good company than on the run. All the same it’ll be the end. There you go.”  

He stops talking, and in the silence that falls Tatsu can hear the footsteps of the guards in the corridor. Once again she wonders what the duty attendants that monitor everything through the surveillance cameras think of their conversations. They must make for the strangest and most pointless reality show ever.  

“The third one,” she says.

Boomerang looks a bit disappointed.

“Why?”

“Not the first one, because none of us meant anything to you then. You had just met us. And it didn’t seem like you were upset about letting Slipknot down,” Tatsu explains. She doesn’t intend to offend him – she’s just saying the truth. Once, he claimed it himself that they understand each other – here’s some understanding, he’s welcome. “Not the second one either, because you’re not stupid – no, stop smiling. You never believed that if people like us stop the Enchantress, someone would learn about that. Only the third option remains.”  

Harkness nods slowly.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and his eyes turn pensive, abstracted, as if he is there again, in the night city frozen in anticipation of the apocalypse. As if he sees himself – and makes a choice once again. “And that’s what happened in the end, didn’t it?”

“So the third option, then?”

“So it is.”

But something in his face makes Tatsu think that he was hoping for a different answer.

***

 Time flies; weeks and months go by. Tatsu spends them fighting, spilling someone else’s blood, occasionally drinking with Flag at a bar or in his apartment – a bachelor’s home again; reading books – most of the plots seem too naïve and unimaginative compared to what goes on in her life, and that is even for the best, and visiting the members of the Suicide Squad in Belle Reve. Some people go clubbing Friday evenings, and she goes to prison Friday afternoons.  

“Don’t get attached to them,” Rick scolds her.

“That is rich coming from you,” Tatsu replies, and he has enough self-awareness not to argue. Lest he gets offended, she chooses not to tell him that sometimes she and Lawton talk a little about him good-naturedly behind his back.

During one of her visits, Harkness raises a topic she has totally forgotten about.

“Hey, come to think of it, we never had that drink,” he points out. Tatsu doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, and it must be written all over her face, because he continues. “Remember I asked you out for a drink? In Midway City, before we fought the witch.”  

Tatsu has to make an effort to remember: indeed, he said something of the sort, but it never occurred to her to take those words seriously.

“We had a drink,” she counters. “When… when you shared your beer with me.”  

He shakes his head, dissatisfied.

“At the construction site? That’s bollocks. I’m talking a proper bar… nah, a restaurant! With crystal glasses an’ candles an’ shit… Like normal people.”  

“Candles,” Tatsu mumbles. She tries to imagine the two of them at the table at a restaurant; the picture turns out pretty absurd. On the other hand, a lot of what has happened in her life during the past few years can be deemed absurd.

“Yeah. Candles,” echoes Harkness, and continues with a crooked smile, “well, that’s me jokin’ around. In the near future,” he gestures in the direction of the small barred window of his cell, “I won’t be able to take you even to a fucking McDonald’s.”  

They don’t talk about the hypothetical dinners at a restaurant anymore, but the absurd picture stays with Tatsu, who still feels somehow indebted to Boomerang – for no reason, as she keeps telling herself – for that conversation at the construction site. She doesn’t like to feel the weight of unpaid debts on her shoulders – yes, that’s what it is about.

One day, she finds a way to pay that debt back.

 ***

 She waits for him in the car outside the prison gate. She hears him first; she cannot make out what exactly he is yelling at the guards, but that surely isn’t ‘good evening’. Then the door of the jeep is open, and someone must have kicked him in the rear because he literally falls into the car. Tatsu shrinks back on instinct.  

Then Harkness looks up – and notices her.

“Katana?.. Hey, what the hell’s going on? They didn’t let me take the boomerangs, didn’t let me take anything…”

“Close the door,” Tatsu tells him, and when he, still confused, obeys, tells the driver, “Let’s go.”

The car pulls away.

“I still don’t get what’s happening,” Harkness reminds her. “Sure, I’m happy to see ya, but… you weren’t ordered to take me to the woods and finish me off under the radar, huh?”  

“If Waller wanted to get rid of you, she would have had you killed in your own cell, and that’s all.”

“Wow, thanks for honesty. So where are we going?”

“To a restaurant,” Tatsu says, and turns away. Yet again it crosses her mind that it is a terrible idea.

“A restaurant?” Harkness drawls quizzically.

“As far as I recall, you said that the beer at the construction site is ‘bollocks’.”  

She should turn back to him, of course. The problem is that Tatsu is ninety-nine per cent sure that if she meets his eye now, she will blush. And she is by no means going to give him any sign that might be interpreted as taking an interest… of a certain kind. She has already blundered more than a few times.  

Therefore she stubbornly keeps looking out of the window. Then again, she doesn’t even need to look to picture how his facial expression is changing now; she’s seen this rakish grin enough times.  

“Holy cow. Tatsu, are you serious? We’re really just going to a restaurant? We’re getting outta this shithole where they only give us porridge with rat crap to gorge ourselves on lobsters and drink wine? Oh, fuck me sideways,” in the end, she turns to him and sees him throw back his head and burst into laughter, narrowing his eyes happily. “I’ll be damned! Am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. Pinch me.”    

“I can assure you you’re not,” Tatsu says, and realizes that she is also starting to smile despite herself. She has visited him and the others in Belle Reve often enough to know that porridge with rat crap, unfortunately, is far from being just a figure of speech. After such a diet, a meal at a restaurant must seem like the pinnacle of happiness.    

Boomerang shakes his head, apparently still unable to believe her.

“Holy fucking shit. How did you do that? How do you even do all that? I’ve told ya you’re unreal, have I?”

“Yes, you have,” Tatsu confirms patiently. And more than once – too often for her to attach great importance to it, too fervently for it not to please her at all. “Let’s put it that way: this is Waller paying me for a… favour.”  

“A favour, then. I take it a lot of some poor suckers died?”

“No,” she shakes her head. And it is true – but there still was a lot of blood. Both the man Waller indicated and his bodyguards turned out to be worthy adversaries. The whole thing went not as smoothly as she wanted it to – not that she wanted to; not that she would kill another person she knows nothing about if she could help it. Nothing to assure her: this one deserves it. Everything turned out rather… nasty. She had to burn the bodies. Then she got home in a haze, tended to a couple of fresh wounds – or rather, just scratches. And then she went to the bathroom and spent a long time soaping herself, as if the invisible filth that bothered her the most could be washed off with shower gel.    

Afterwards, she rummaged through her modest wardrobe and dug out the only dress she has about in America. Nothing special: wine red, below the knee length, sleeveless but with a pretty high neckline – very demure. The first and so far the last dress she bought after… after. If she and Rick didn’t have to accompany Amanda Waller to some event once, she wouldn’t have bought this one either. She put it on, combed her hair, still wet after the shower, with her fingers, looked at herself in the mirror – and flew into a rage, pulled off the dress, and could barely stop herself from tearing it to shreds. Restaurant or not, what does it matter? The last thing she needs is for him to think she dressed up for him.      

So the situation might be a little less absurd than it could have been. Both of them look like they’re going on another mission with the others, only she isn’t wearing her mask – he has already seen her face anyway – and he isn’t wearing his ever-present coat. It is no wonder he wasn’t allowed to take it – Waller wasn’t going to let him out of Belle Reve armed, and to let him wear his coat would probably be as unwise as to hand him all his boomerangs. Tatsu has no doubt that everyone and their dog have already searched through the personal belongings of the Squad, but she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that somewhere in his inside pockets Harkness has as many boomerangs as he is listed as having officially. She witnessed this man produce from his bosom at least four different lighters, a massive stack of dollars, a pocket knife, small binoculars, flat-nose pliers, and a toy unicorn. She has to admit: sometimes she doesn’t understand how he even does all that either.    

It appears that the thoughts of Captain Boomerang also turn to the contents of his pockets.

“Hey, how the hell are we affording this, though? Make no mistake, I’d stand treat, but my stash is in the coat, and these assholes didn’t let me take it, y’know.”    

“Don’t worry about that. Waller is paying for everything,” she explains, unable to suppress a grin, because this part, possibly the most unbelievable part of the entire affair, gives her a sort of silly, spiteful joy. Task Force X is a comparatively recent project, but they’ve already cleaned up so much mess for Amanda Waller that Heracles and his labours don’t even come close. A dinner at a restaurant is the least thing she could offer them. So when Boomerang explodes with laughter and gives her a conspiratorial wink, she looks him right in the eye and smiles. Another mistake. Then again, this is not the first time they share a secret.

He puts his hand on her knee, and she shakes it off immediately; this is way too far.

“I see you took your sword with ya,” Harkness observes, not giving any sign that something didn’t go the way he wanted.

“I am to keep an eye on you.”

“Yeah. How about…” he leans in closer, and the smell of cologne blasts up Tatsu’s nose. She can only hope it is due to external use only, “we chop off his head,” he nods at the driver, “and drive the fuck away from this? Huh?”    

The driver, who can definitely hear everything, doesn’t turn, but Tatsu notices him tense up.

“You’re kidding,” she says dryly. He may be, or he may be not – with Digger Harkness, one cannot always tell.

“Why kidding, doll? Zip, and done. There’s no way you enjoy working for Waller.”  

“I do not. But if you pull some stunt,” Tatsu feels for the sword hilt, and Boomerang sees that – very well, it is good for him to see that, “I will chop your head off. I really hope it won’t come to that.”  

“And what’s it to you? Scared of me? But I’m unarmed,” he claps himself on the chest demonstratively, implying that he has no weapons on him. “Why do you care if it does?”  

“I just wouldn’t like to do that,” she says firmly, and it’s true. It works well; he doesn’t even mention running away for the remainder of the day.

 This might be the strangest evening in her life.

Waller’s man drives them to a French restaurant whose name she cannot read but is almost sure that the phrase was chosen solely because it sounds impressive. They are let in through the back door, so no one among the other guests, who are sporting evening dresses and suits, pays any attention to her crop top and sword or to his… appearance in general. Their table is one of those located in alcoves, away from prying eyes, but Tatsu feels they are being watched. Which means Waller doesn’t trust her too much – well, she can understand that. She is part of a special team composed of deranged madmen, and she must admit she likes these deranged madmen more than she likes certain normal people known to her. Of course, she is Flag’s right-hand woman, but it is most likely that Waller doesn’t trust Flag either. It is doubtful whether there are any people in this world that she trusts at all.          

Waller is rich. Their little feast will not shatter her wealth, all the more so since the restaurant she sent them to is not the most luxurious. But they still have a field day ordering loads of food and a bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu.    

“To honour among thieves?” she suggests, when they raise their glasses for the first time.

“Didn’t ya say yer not a thief?”

“That is true,” she admits, and adds inwardly, I’m a killer.  

In the end, they drink to the Suicide Squad. Then to Lawton and Jones, currently languishing in their cells. Then to Zoe Lawton, who is acting in a school play next week. To a lot of things. He asks her about her life here, in America. At some point she finds herself trying to explain to him what taiyaki is, and him telling her about banana sandwiches, and she can’t remember why they started talking about this at all. The bottle becomes empty, and another appears as if by itself.      

They don’t talk about the past. They don’t talk about the future, because there might be no future at all – they can’t know for sure, what with their way of life. That evening, Tatsu laughs and thinks: good thing I’m drunk – it almost gets easier for a while.  

When it’s time to leave, Harkness gets pig-headed.

“Whoa, no, no, no. Already? It’s too early, are you kiddin’ me?” he booms out when they exit the restaurant. He protests, but she drags him by the hand and he stumbles along after all, treading heavily like a dancing bear. “Let’s go someplace else, luv. Look at the pretty stars.”  

“We are already late. And you… you have to go back to jail,” Tatsu tells him. The stars are pretty indeed, but she regrets looking up at them, because her head begins to spin. Thankfully, she isn’t wearing high heels. Thankfully, she doesn’t have any high-heeled shoes at all, or she could have been possessed to wear them. “Sorry,” she adds when they get into the car and set off. “There is no other way.”  

“Back to jail,” Boomerang repeats with disgust. Sprawling on the seat, he unzips his hoodie, and Tatsu is swept over by the smell of cologne again. Weirdly, it doesn’t annoy her as much as at the beginning of the evening. “I’m a fucking Cinderella. I’m not back by midnight, they turn me into a pumpkin.”  

“Cinderella,” Tatsu echoes, and giggles: everything is way funnier now. The driver makes a sudden turn, and she is literally thrown at Boomerang. Her cheek presses to his chest – and stays there. Tatsu feels drunk and sated and drunk again, and sleepy too, and he makes for a decent pillow, and she can’t make herself move away.  

“Oh, you think it’s funny,” Harkness mutters with mock offence in his voice. It seems he’s about to fall asleep too. “Well, go on, laugh.”

They drive back in silence, and through the drowse Tatsu feels the warm arm around her waist and thinks: good thing I’m drunk, I can pretend I’m asleep.  

The road to Belle Reve is long, but it still feels like they reach it too quickly.

“Inmate,” calls one of the guards, “get out.”  

Harkness, his eyes still closed, moans with discontent.

“Captain Boomerang,” Tatsu says softly, freeing herself from his embrace. “It’s time.”

There is nothing to be done. He’s already about to step out of the jeep, when he suddenly moves closer to her again.

“Hey, darlin’,” he says, looking her right in the eye. “Aren’t ya forgetting something?”

It takes her some time to realize what he means: he must be expecting her to kiss him. All at once she remembers everything that has happened this evening, and awful shame washes over her: it is no wonder he’s expecting that to happen.  

“Inmate, get out!”

She shrinks back.

“Good night, Captain,” she tells him as dryly as she can. He looks wounded but says nothing, and almost obediently lets the guards escort him back to his cell. Tatsu closes her eyes and rubs her temples wearily. Tomorrow she is going to regret drinking so much. She already does – and that’s not the only thing she regrets.

She has to stop seeing him.

 ***

 At first, she even succeeds. Next Friday Tatsu, as always, goes to Belle Reve to see the Squad – all of them save for Harkness. She feels sick at heart because if she did promise him anything, it was to visit him, and now she’s going back on her word because of her own stupid weakness. But there is no other way.  

“He asked about you,” Waylon tells her a week later, when she brings him the latest issue of Playboy. Tatsu almost doesn’t feel weird anymore when buying it, and doesn’t try to imagine anymore what the news stand clerks think when she pays them for it. Such periodicals cause her a feeling of light disgust, but Croc, who gets let out of jail only to be thrown into another trouble spot, deserves at least some small joys.  

“Who?”

Waylon, no doubt observant like all the quiet ones tend to be, bares his impressive teeth.  

“You know who.”

It seems a logical solution to give up on these visits at all – but in that case she would betray all of them. Perhaps this little tradition is much more important to her than it is to the prisoners, but Tatsu is almost sure that it means something to them as well. She has no right to deprive the rest of them of this bit of understanding, companionship, normalcy because she wasn’t smart enough to stop the game she and Boomerang started before it became too late.

At home – not that the apartment she’s renting here deserves to be called ‘home’ – she, unable to fall asleep, unsheathes the sword and runs the tips of her fingers along the cool blade. A tender, habitual movement – like touching the cheek of a loved one.

“I’ve lost my way, Maseo,” whispers Tatsu. The place where the souls of the people struck down by this blade are trapped is still a mystery to her, but she knows that Maseo will come as soon as she calls him – as a voice from afar, as nebulous shapes in the swirls of smoke, as the peace and safety granted by the presence of someone dear. “I’m afraid of my own heart.”    

I know your heart, Tatsu. You have nothing to be afraid of.

“It makes me act rashly. Makes me succumb to false feelings.”  

I know your heart, Tatsu, and it incapable of falsehood.  

Only the ones that are already far away can speak so vaguely and with such unrelenting honesty at the same time.  

“I will always love you,” she whispers ardently. Not because she doesn’t want him to think it is not so; not because she herself feels like it is not so anymore either. She knows for sure that she is always going to love him, for she loved him as a lover, as a husband, as the father of her children, as the only thing she had left after all her life fell apart, burned in that damned fire. He will stay in her heart until her last breath – even if she has to close her heart to the rest of the world. Once she used to think that after all she’s been through, it isn’t going to be an issue.

And I will always love you, her husband replies, and Tatsu blinks back tears with a deep sigh.

“I just wish you were alive,” she tells him for what must be the hundredth, or maybe a thousandth time.

If he was with her – not as smoke or a voice, but as flesh and blood – he probably would have kissed her gently on the nape of her neck, as he often used to do.  

I just wish, says her husband – no, the soul of her husband, which is already rushing away, deep into the world she shouldn’t hurry to go to if she doesn’t want this sword to fall into wrong hands, that you were happy.

***

 Literally the next day there is a message from Metropolis that some giant snake-like beast is terrorizing the city and devouring people. The monster was last seen crawling into the building of the opera – which is where their squad heads to after reaching the city.  

“Look at that freak,” Harkness comments in a low voice. The creature is curled up slumbering on stage, and they are watching it from the catwalks above. “Not a family of yours by any chance, eh, ‘gator?’    

Waylon steps towards him, and the planks creak under his feet, threatening to break.

“Say that again,” he growls.

Tatsu bares her sword and wedges herself between them. Waylon backs off reluctantly.

“Knock it off,” she tells Boomerang. It feels like everything has come full circle – the day Harkness picked up her mask, he also had a run-in with Jones. The day they were sent to fight the Enchantress, she also put the blade of her sword under his chin. Why did she even think something would change?

“Oh, so you’re talking to me after all?”

“Enough,” Tatsu hisses. She really wants to try to explain everything to him. Maybe if she tries to put her feelings into words, many things will become clear to her, too. But if he thinks they are going to discuss this now, he is mistaken.

On the neighbouring catwalk, Rick is looking at them in a rage, gesturing both of them to shut up. Harkness steps closer; now the blade of the Soultaker is within a hair’s breadth away from his neck. A single careless movement, and blood will be spilled. A wild idea crosses her mind: it looks as if he’s into this. Tatsu licks her lips.

“Y’know,” Boomerang begins, lowering his head a little so that it is easier for him to look her in the eye, “I think you’re scared of me. Or of yourself, hell if I know. Am I right?”  

A loud rustle comes from beneath, and the next instant the monster bites through the middle of the catwalk they’re standing on, and both of them are falling down. Tatsu manages to grab some rope, but when she tries to climb it, her hands slip, and she comes tumbling down.

The fall is far from being soft, even though she falls on the tatters of the curtain, which the snake must have torn earlier. She is lucky not to hurt her head, but her left leg and hip are aching. Only the awareness that there is no time to lie around makes her summon up all her strength and get up. Her sword is nowhere to be seen, and Tatsu is overwhelmed by fury: now she is useless.

The snake roars and shakes its head, trying to shake off Croc, who is trying to bite through its scales. Rick is shooting at the monster from above, and Deadshot, who is already on stage somehow, is doing the same from below, dodging the blows of its tail. Tatsu sweeps her eyes weakly over the stage and suddenly notices a hole broken in it. At the very edge of the hole, the hilt of her sword is sticking out of the floor. Moving as quickly as it is possible to do that with a limp, Tatsu hurries there.

The moment she pulls the sword out of the stage, Harkness’s head pokes out of the hole. Not waiting for him to ask for help, Tatsu helps him get out.

“Are you…” both of them begin in unison and drop it immediately, because the snake has managed to shake off the bothersome little crocodile – who is hopefully just somewhere on the floor and not in its belly – and is moving towards them, slower than before but still pretty speedily. They scatter, and Tatsu charges at the monster with her sword drawn. Harkness throws a boomerang at the creature, aiming at its eye, but it dodges at the last second.        

Eventually, with joint forces they manage to kill the beast. To be on the safe side, Lawton fires a round into its open jaws. The long body shudders one last time and falls still. For some time, the five of them stand there looking at it.

“Where could this thing even come from?” Rick mutters.

“Remember what the Wicked Witch of the West said when she tried to get us to join her? The world is changing, the time of magic has come, blah, blah, blah,” Lawton reminds him. Rick nods absentmindedly; these are not happy memories.

Jones kicks the dead snake.

“Maybe it meant no harm,” he points out in his deep voice.

“Croc,” Rick says wearily, “it ate people.”

“So did I.”

“But at least you didn’t chew the curtain at the opera like a disgraced diva?” Lawton asks, struggling not to grin.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Well, then it’s okay.”

Rick titters nervously, and the next instant all of them are shaking with laughter.

 Tatsu is drinking water straight from the tap in the restroom, when Harkness comes in.

“This is a ladies’ room,” she says reflexively.

“Hey, I just wanna wash my face, is all.”

Without waiting for her to answer, he comes closer and starts washing at the neighbouring sink. Tatsu casts a sidelong look at him and notices that the water is turning red.  

“Show me your face,” she orders.

“It’s not a bad face, what’s yer problem?”

“I’m serious.”

He rolls his eyes, but stands still while she examines his face, only wincing when she dabs at the cut on his forehead with a paper towel.

“Just a scratch,” he assures at once.

“Just a scratch,” Tatsu agrees. She scrunches up the towel and throws it into the sink. She would like to keep her hand on his face, pretending that she’s still wiping off the blood, but she’s done pretending.

“How about you?” Boomerang asks quietly.

“Fine. A couple of bruises. You were lucky today,” she says just as quietly, and takes off her mask. Tomorrow they might not be as lucky. “I’m happy for you.”

“And I’m happy you got out alive… darl.”

For a moment she wants him to ruin everything. To reply with a jibe, to crack another dirty joke, to try to grab and kiss her only to get smacked. Not to stand motionless in front of her like he’s afraid to scare her off. It occurred to her once that from the outside their relationship might look like an attempt to tame a wild animal. Perhaps this is a mutual process.

Do whatever you want to him.

She stands up on tiptoes and kisses him.

For an instant, Harkness freezes – possibly trying to figure out again if he’s dreaming – and then pulls her closer and kisses back. Drinks her hungrily, like this is both the first time and the last. Bearing in mind what their lives are like, it really might be the last.

Tatsu doesn’t immediately realize why she suddenly doesn’t need to stand on tiptoes anymore.

“Put me down–” she starts, but gives up and wraps her legs around his waist. Boomerang grunts with satisfaction and switches from her lips to her neck. His beard, fortunately, is softer than could have been expected.  

“Stop drinking so much,” Tatsu breathes out, now that no one is trying to shut her mouth. “You taste like…” all English words slip her mind, “like… a beer cask.”  

It tickles her when he laughs into her neck.

Someone simply must enter now – Rick, Floyd, Amanda Waller, the president of the United  States, but no, no one is trying to stop him from squeezing her hips, to stop her from running her fingers through his hair. Weapon to weapon, blade to blade. Red-hot metal to red-hot metal. Melting until something new is forged – without fear, without regret, without the past, without the future.

Clearly, Maseo wants too much: she remembers what happiness is, and she is sure she’ll never ever be happy again.

But she can take a shot at being alive.

[beware-of-you-98]

OTP Prompts for Jemily

🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Who kills the bugs?

JJ (she grew up in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania, she’s not scared of any sort of bug)

Emily doesn’t deal with creatures with more than four legs, so if she sees an insect, or lord forbid, a spider, she’ll immediately climb off the floor and call for her girlfriend

JJ can never find it in herself to purposely kill the insects (she’s also not too keen on having to clean bug guts from her carpet), so she’ll grab a clear plastic cup with whatever book or piece of paper is laying around and use those to put the bug outside

(If it’s a wolf spider, she’ll literally pick it up with her bare hands, much to Emily’s horror)

If the spider is a brown recluse or black widow, she’ll bring the covered arachnid closer and take the time to show her boys and Emily what markings to look out for so that they know to be careful

The only insect she refuses to deal with are stink bugs

When they come around, she and Emily take an emergency trip to the nearby Target and buy enough of the raspberry gel air fresheners for every one of their windows

Yeah, their house smells like a Jolly Rancher for the entire month

But at least they don’t have to deal with the annoying beetles

Who always gets hot? Who always gets cold?

Neither of them gets hot, but Emily is perpetually cold

The rest of the team will be in the field in pants and short sleeves while Emily is bundled in her turtlenecks and jacket

Even in 90°+ weather, Emily can sit comfortably in long sleeve shirts and pants

At first, JJ is surprised by how cold Emily can get

She wakes up one day to find Emily bundled under the covers and shivering

Of course, she’s alarmed and asking what’s wrong, only getting confused when Emily says she’s fine, just cold

“Em, it’s 76° outside.” “That’s practically freezing!”

JJ starts giving Emily her sweaters and sweatshirts for her to wear

Emily loves them so much because they fit her just the way she likes and they smell like her girlfriend

Who’s the big spoon? Who’s the little spoon?

Everyone on the team hands down swears Emily’s the big spoon

It’s not only because she’s taller than JJ, but Penelope says she gives big spoon vibes

(Actually, she says Emily gives huge top vibes and that makes her the big spoon by default)

JJ lets the team think whatever they want because she’s the only one that really knows Emily Prentiss is the ultimate little spoon

She can’t help it!! She loves the feeling of being wrapped up in JJ’s arms

And loves getting her hair played with while she rests her head on JJ’s chest

She’s!! Soft!! When!! It!! Comes!! To!! Jennifer!! Jareau!!

When did they realize they loved each other?

For JJ, she realized in the aftermath of the Tobias Hankel case

She suffered from horrific nightmares for weeks and never got enough sleep

Emily comes over every night for three weeks and holds JJ in her arms and comforts her when she wakes up screaming from her nightmares

JJ realizes she’s in love with Emily one night after she’s calmed down from yet another nightmare

She’s laying there in Emily’s arms, emotionally drained and exhausted and she just peers up at Emily and... knows

No one had ever cared for her like this, no one had ever made her feel so calm, so safe in years.

Emily does.

Emily makes her feel like no one has before, like she’s the only person to ever exist and matter.

JJ feels as if Emily’s arms is where she’s meant to spend her life

She doesn’t know it then, but that was the moment she fell in love with Emily. And she fell hard.

Emily knew almost right away tbh

It’s only a few weeks after she joins the BAU and everyone else had gone home except for herself and JJ

She goes into JJ’s office to keep her company

They spend the next few hours organizing files (Emily insists on helping because JJ looks really stressed and overwhelmed)

They don’t get a lot of work done honestly, they sit and talk with each other over mugs of steaming chamomile tea

Emily looks across the desk at JJ as she finishes a story and is rendered speechless by how beautiful the blonde is and how perfect she is and how everything about her makes Emily feel as if nothing else matters

She’s overwhelmed with her own emtion and just knows, knows, at that moment she’s well and truly fucked because she’s in love

Who said “I love you” first?

Emily does but it’s spontaneous and out of the blue

The whole team is hanging out at Rossi’s house

Everyone is laughing and having a good time

Emily and JJ are attempting to dance to the music playing over the speakers but they’re both hilariously uncoordinated

(They’ve also both had a couple of glasses of wine at this point, making their efforts even more comical)

Spencer and Hotch are playing a game of blackjack

Derek is half paying attention to the game on tv, half swaying to the music and doing weird dances when Penelope looks at him to make her laugh

Penelope is recording different parts of the night for the memories

Rossi sits back and watches over his children with a content smile

JJ stumbles into Emily’s arms with a giggle

Emily laughs and wraps her arms around the her blonde and just goes “God, do I love you.”

You can hear a pin drop with how quiet everyone becomes

Emily opens her mouth to apologize, to weakly defend herself when JJ grins up at her “Do you mean it?”

Emily’s response is a small, shy smile

“Say it again.”

Emily then leans in and gives JJ a light kiss and says more genuinely “I love you.”

JJ beams up at her and repeats the words, wrapping her arms around Emily’s neck and pulls her down for a deep kiss

(The team all give out a celebratory whoop at the couple’s expense and Penelope cries because she’s so happy for her friends)

(She sends the video to the two later on for them to have)

(It’s their most treasured memory)

Who demands cuddles?

When sober? Emily

Emily Prentiss loves a good cuddle

And, hey, after a day of dealing with the horrors they experience daily, a cuddle is what they both need and deserve

Drunk JJ is clingy as hell and will literally pout up at Emily until the older woman cuddles her

It doesn’t matter where they are

If they are in the middle of Wendy’s, drunk JJ will pout to her heart’s desire until she gets her cuddles (and a vanilla frosty, but that’s besides the point)

Drunk JJ actually demands cuddles

Who is more prone to stealing the other’s clothes?

While JJ gives Emily her clothes to wear, she is 100% the one that steals Emily’s clothes

She steals Emily’s hoodies all the time

If she can’t find something to wear for work in her side of the closet, she’ll steal a shirt from Emily’s

She also loves to steal Emily’s pantsuits and wear those to work sometimes

They’re so much more comfortable than skirts

And Emily loves to see her in them, so that’s a bonus

(She also steals Emily’s flannels before they go out for dates)

She just loves wearing Emily’s clothes as much as Emily loves to wear her’s

When do they tell their team/their families about their relationship? What are their reactions?

They decide to tell the team after five months that they’ve been dating

They want them to know because the team is like their secondary family

(And they also want to be able to publically be with each other when the team get together at Rossi’s)

(JJ just wants to hold Emily’s hand and give her girlfriend a kiss whenever she wants god dammit!)

To both of their relief, the team’s response is overwhelmingly positive

No one is surprised when they confirm to the team they’re dating

Hotch and Rossi are just like “we knew it”

Penelope has to remind both of them that she already knew because JJ had given Emily a kiss a few weeks ago during girl’s night (Penelope can keep a secret if she really wants to)

Spencer is confused because “Wait, you mean you guys have only just recently become a thing? You haven’t been dating for the past year and a half?”

Derek is just like “Well it’s about fucking time”

JJ takes Emily with her when she takes a weekend trip to take her boys home to visit her mom

She really wants Emily to formally meet her mom (“I know you already met her, but I want her to meet you as my girlfriend!”)

Though initially slightly surprised by JJ introducing Emily as her girlfriend, the blonde’s mother welcomes Emily with open arms

She’s never seen JJ this happy in years and it warms her heart to see her daughter in good hands

(“And she’s really good with the kids,” JJ’s mother tells her daughter later on in the night as the two watch Emily and the boys out in the backyard)

JJ just smiles warmly in response, relieved by her mother’s response

Ambassador Prentiss comes over to Emily’s apartment unannounced while JJ and the boys are having a family movie night

It’s awkward as hell tbh

Emily’s too formal and on edge

JJ longs to go over and place a hand on Emily’s arm for comfort, but stays put under the Ambassador’s steely gaze

(Michael and Henry are blissfully unaware, sucked too far into the animated universe of Spider-Man)

Finally, the Ambassador turns to Emily and asks if she’s happy

Emily turns back to JJ and the boys with a soft gaze before turning back to her mother and giving a light nod “Yeah. I am.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

All the tension falls from Emily’s shoulders and the biggest breath of relief leaves her lips at that

It’s the most approval she’s gotten from her mother in a long time but it means so much

What is their favorite way to show affection?

Emily likes to wrap her arms around JJ’s waist from behind

She loves to sneak up behind her when she’s cooking and gently grab her waist and press a light kiss against her neck before laying her chin on the blonde’s shoulder and watching her cook

She’ll slide behind JJ on the couch and kiss her temple before they cuddle and watch tv

She’ll randomly stop by and just wrap JJ in a soft, warm hug, gently swaying her from side to side before letting her go and going about her day like normal

JJ loves giving Emily sweet kisses on her forehead or her cheek

She wakes up before Emily and will sometimes be unable to help herself and just lean down and press a series of light kisses on the brunette’s nose or forehead

She’ll sometimes stop by Emily’s office during work and just plant a kiss on the crown of her head before heading back to her reports

When they go on long trips, who drives?

JJ!!

She loves to drive but hardly ever gets to

At work, Emily or one of the boys are the ones driving the SUVs

(And, yeah, maybe she got to drive the SUV when Kate was on the team, but still)

Even running errands like going to the store or picking up the boys, it’s Emily that drives

But Emily hates to drive long distances and often leaves that task to JJ

JJ loves it

Emily will lean her head on her shoulder or place her hand over the blonde’s on the gear shift

It’s so blissfully domestic and soft and makes the drive that much better

Who shows more affection to the other in public?

JJ easily

Emily is a firm believer that she has a hardass reputation to uphold

It takes all of JJ’s will power not to snort

Because, honestly, Emily is really just a big softie

But she’ll let Emily think what she wants

She’s the one that initiates hand holding on the jet when they’re going to a case and cuddles on the way home from one

She just wants to love her girlfriend anywhere and at anytime!

If she wants to give Emily a kiss in the middle of the bullpen (when it’s slow and the atmosphere isn’t as tense or serious as it normally is, of course), she will god dammit!!

(Emily’s light blush never does any good to help uphold her “hardass reputation” but oh well)

Who gives piggy back rides the most?

JJ gives the piggy back rides, Emily always gets them

JJ holds her as if she weighs nothing and it makes her swoon

JJ’s arms? A definite weakness for Emily

(Plus she never got to have piggy back rides as a child and JJ insists on making up for lost time so how can Emily refuse with an offer like that?)

Who proposes first? How and when?

Okay so I’m a firm believer that they’re both spontaneous as hell when it comes to this kind of thing

It’s literally just a matter of who lets their guard down first and let the question slip out first

If it’s JJ, it’s when she comes down one morning to see Emily and the boys making her breakfast

She just stops and leans in the doorway, smiling to herself as her girlfriend instructs her sons what do do

Emily is so patient with them

She helps Michael crack the eggs into a bowl and then kisses his nose, which makes him squeal in delight and her to grin

Henry stirs the batter for waffles and gets flour on his glasses and face

Emily leans over and gently cleans him off, grinning and laughing in surprise when the young boy gets batter on her nose

The three of them are just laughing and genuinely having a good time and, god, it makes JJ’s heart feel so full

When they finally notice JJ in the doorway, the boys run up and give her good morning kisses before going back to cooking breakfast

When JJ and Emily are alone and cleaning up the kitchen, Emily just wraps her arms around JJ’s waist and gives her the softest of kisses

The “marry me?” slips from JJ’s lips without much thought

And Emily, though initially surprised, just beams in response and gives her girlfriend (fiancé?) a deep, passionate kiss and just goes “just let me know the date to reserve, baby”

If it’s Emily, it happens in a very soft, very intimate moment between the two of them

They’ll be laying in bed at midnight, cuddled naked under the covers with no space between them

Emily leans over and brushes her fingers through JJ’s long hair, her heart fluttering wildly when the blonde looks up at her

Her eyes are full of so much love, her expression so soft and adoring, Emily can’t help but to whisper out “marry me?” into the room

She goes to maybe to start a speech about their relationship, how much it means to her and how much she wants to be a part of JJ’s and the boys’ lives but all that comes out is “I just... I really, really love you and want to be a part of your life permanently.”

Just like the first time they admitted they loved each other, JJ beams and leans in, pressing a chaste kiss to Emily’s lips before telling her to say it again

Emily presses a kiss to JJ’s chin and asks again so softly “marry me?”

JJ pulls her in for a long, deep kiss

“I’d marry you as soon as tomorrow if you wanted me to.”

[dameronology]

the one with the intergalactic babysitter (mando x reader)

summary: you’re a little lost in life - you moved to coruscant to become a writer, but working two jobs to make ends meet has made you dismayed. one babysitting gig with a mandalorian and his weird green kid might change everything.

this is my first mando piece!! it might be the first part of a series or it might be a stand alone - if you want to see more, i’m definitely down to see what else my brain spews up 

enjoy, 

- val xx 

Coruscant was a very fucking expensive place to live. 

It was understandable, seeing as it was the political and cultural hub of the galaxy - the kind of place that Frank Sinatra might write songs about titled Coruscant, Coruscant - but maker, it felt like they were charging you simply to exist in the city. Perhaps if you’d had a career, or a solid job that didn’t require chasing around after rude patrons and yelling at middle-aged women for severely under tipping. Being a waitress simply wasn’t enough to make ends meet. You’d originally moved to the capital to make it as a writer - a statement you would come to learn would age like milk on a hot July day. 

So, you turned to babysitting too; you already spent your day dealing with sticky-handed children and tuning out their incessant screaming. The extra credits wouldn’t hurt and it was something to do that didn’t involve sitting within the four walls of your tiny, concrete apartment. 

The first few weeks were a bit sow, usually tending to the spoilt of children of rich, inner city politicians. They were easy jobs; the kids were easily entertained by a holomovie and their parents usually left enough money to order take away food for them. You simply had to sit and watch them; making sure they didn’t choke and that they were in bed on time. Simple. 

One slow Monday - the kind were the hours dragged and there was a sort of grey cloud of gloom hanging over the skyscrapers - you got a call. Initially, it was supposed to be your night off to work on your debut novel. The first thing on your to-do list was to come up with an idea for said novel but as it usually went with writers, you found it easier to find excuses than to get on with the thing you claimed was your livelihood. 

‘Hello?’ You were halfway through the door of your apartment, your commslink in one hand as you tossed your apron onto the kitchen counter. 

‘Is this...Y/N?’

‘Maybe.’ You thinned your eyes. ‘Who’s asking?’

‘A potential client.’ It sounded as though the caller was covering their mouth. ‘Are your services exclusive to human children?’

‘Not at all. I had a Twi’lek kid last week.’ You replied. ‘What kinda kid are we talking?’

‘I’m not entirely sure.’

‘You don’t know what species your own kid is?’

‘He’s adopted?’ The voice came back, a little unsure. ‘Look, it’s a long story but I’ve had an emergency at work and I need someone to keep an eye on him for a few hours. I’ll pay double.’

That was how you ended up rushing out again, plans for the night completely disregarded in lieu of money . Admittedly, you were a little unsure because a) the address he had given you was in an air hangar and b) you were half-expecting to turn up and find that the child was a demon. But the guy was paying double and you needed to make rent - and you were like eighty percent sure he probably wasn’t going to kill you. 

When you got to Air Hangar 64 - a jet parking spot right in the middle of downtown Coruscant - you almost turned around, thinking you’d got the wrong address. A man in Mandalorian armour (one hell of a man, it should be added) was standing outside of a jet, a bundle of robes in his arms. He was tapping his foot on the ground, the bright lights of the city around you illuminating against the beskar of his suit. 

‘Y/N?’ You hadn’t even noticed that he’d spotted you, given the whole face apparatus situation. The voice, however, matched the one from the phone. 

‘Right. Hi.’ You cautiously approached him. ‘I didn’t catch your name on the phone.’

‘Mando.’ He replied. 

‘Mando the Mandalorian?’ You quirked a brow at him. ‘Or is it short for Mandalorian?’

‘Up to you.’ His words were blunt.

 It was then that you noticed the bundle in his arms was actually moving, a tiny and clawed green hand reaching up. It wriggled slightly and you tried - you really tried - to hide the look of horror on your face. 

‘That's the thing I’m babysitting?’

‘He’s the thing you're babysitting.’ Mando replied. ‘His face is much better than his hands.’

He handed you the bundle - and you noted that the shiny guy had been right. The little face staring back at you, with its wide eyes, brown eyes and hilariously oversized ears, was certainly much cuter than a human baby. He wrapped his tiny hand around your finger, letting out a tiny giggle. 

‘Is that why you wear the helmet?’ You asked. ‘Cos you’re green and wrinkly too?’

You couldn’t see the Mandalorian’s face, but you could tell from the way that he tilted his head to the side that he wasn’t amused by your statement. Tough crowd. 

‘I’ll only be gone a few hours.’ He said. ‘I appreciate you doing this.’

‘And I appreciate you paying double.’ You shot back. 

‘There’s food for him on the ship - some freeze dried frogs and some bantha milk.’

‘I’m sorry, did you just say freeze dried frogs and-’

‘- I’d appreciate it if you stayed out the hull of the ship.’ Mando continued, ignoring your question. ‘Just stick to the cockpit.’

‘Right.’ You forced a smile, inwardly reminding yourself of the double payment. ‘And do you have a rough ETA?’

‘Sometime between now and tomorrow morning.’

‘No need to be precise, I suppose.’ You muttered under your breath. ‘Well, have fun doing whatever is that you do...Mando.’

He didn’t mean to come across as icy and rude. It was just that he rarely ever interacted with anybody else - the Child was hardly chatty and he usually knocked his cargo out before they could get a word in. Still, the Mandalorian smiled slightly to himself at the use of his name. He wouldn’t usually trust a single soul in the galaxy to be alone with his kid on his ship, but he didn’t have much choice. You didn’t seem like the sort of person who would steal it - in fact, he got the impression you probably couldn’t fly it at all. 

Just like that, you were alone with the weird, Kermit-looking child. The first hour was slow; painfully so, in fact. All you could do was sit in the pilot’s chair, spinning around aimlessly in circles as the kid napped. The pile of dead, freeze-dried frogs stacked atop the dashboard was a little unnerving, but not any less unnerving than the six-foot-tall, armour-clad man to whom they belonged. 

By the third hour, you were beginning to wish the kid was still asleep. You quickly learnt that he enjoyed waddling about and pressing random buttons; he was particularly drawn to the bright red one next to your seat. You were no expert, but you’d seen enough holocartoons growing up to know what an ejector seat was. 

‘Oh no, let’s leave the blaster alone.’ You jumped out your chair, quickly picking up the Child. You held him up in the air, eyes meeting for a moment - then he burst into tears. ‘Hey, it’s okay! It’s better to play with safe things, like this mildly disturbing freeze dried-’

- The kid ripped his food from your hand before you could finish the sentence, shoving the creature into his slobbery mouth with an ostentatiousness that was impressive and disturbing in equal measures. 

Watching him guzzle down the bantha milk was a similar experience; half of it ended up down his robes, the other half splattering to the floor. It could have been worse.  He could have spilled it all over the controls or down the seat. Heck, he could have poured it over your head. 

By the time the Mandalorian came back, both you and the Child were passed out. So much so, in fact, that you didn’t hear him enter the ship. You were snoring quietly in the pilot’s seat, leg stretched out to the other chair. The little green rat was snoozing on your chest, one of your hands resting over his back. There was blue milk all down your shirt and a frog’s leg stuck to the windscreen. 

He gently leant forward to pick his kid up, placing him back in his floating crib. You began to stir when you felt the warmth move from your chest, your brain mentally registering the sudden absence of the creature. 

‘Hey, Mando the Mandalorian.’ You sat up, rubbing your eyes. As you did, the frog that had been plastered to the windscreen fell, bouncing off of his helmet. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh that was about to come out. ‘I am so sorry about the mess-’

‘- don’t be.’ He cut you off, sticking out his gloved hand to help you up. ‘He’s a messy kid.’

You weren’t sure how you could tell, but something about him seemed much more docile than your previous, brief encounter. His tone was a little warmer - or was it more tired? It was hard to tell with the helmet. 

Your best guess was that whatever work-related task he’d run out to had really taken it out of him. His shoulders were a little slumped, words tinged with exasperation. Coming home to find his ship covered in frogs and blue milk was probably only salt in the wound. 

‘I’ll clean it up.’ You offered. 

‘No, it’s fine.’ Mando shook his head, releasing his grip on your hand. 

‘You’re tired.’ You said. ‘I mean...I think you’re tired. It’s hard to tell with that metal thing covering your face but I’m getting some exhausted dad vibes from you and I did make the mess after all.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Certain.’ You rubbed your eyes. ‘We spent most of the time you were out napping so I’m well-rested anyways.’

After pointing you in the direction of a tiny closet towards the back of the cock-pit, you gathered what appeared to be an ages-old mop and a bottle of unidentified cleaning liquid. Cleaning up spilled and splattered food was simply part of your day job and it didn’t take you long to reassemble the place. You mopped the floor, prying the occasional frog leg or arm from the ship’s windscreen and controls. 

Mando watched as you did, eyes following you as you darted around. You couldn’t see him staring at you but you could certainly feel it. Glancing up from the floor, you paused your cleaning to hold his gaze, letting the mop fall against the wall. 

‘So, what do you do?’ You asked. 

Helmet tilt.

‘I mean, for like a job.’ You continued. ‘You live on a ship and you have a weird kid - he’s lovely, don’t get me wrong - but he’s fucking weird. Doesn’t he have a mum or something? Or another dad?’ 

‘I’m a bounty hunter.’ Mando replied. ‘And no.’

Did you always talk this much? Or was it just his wordless responses that made it feel like you were having a conversation with yourself? You could have sworn that most conversations didn’t take this much effort. 

‘Bounty hunter, huh?’ You raised your eyebrow. ‘I don’t suppose that finding an individual in these Coruscanti crowds is very easy - sorry. I also don’t suppose that you want my running commentary-’

‘- no, I like it.’ His words took you by surprise. ‘I don’t come across many chatty people.’

There was something about you that he liked - you were bright, sparky. The complete opposite of every antisocial criminal and cantina-dweller that he’d ever come across. He was tired beyond words but your voice was soothing. 

‘Yeah, the kid isn’t much of a conversationalist.’ You replied. ‘Where did you find him?’

‘He had a bounty on his head.’ Mando replied. ‘The people that wanted him were bad.’

‘So you ran away with him?’ You dropped the mop, taking a seat in the chair beside him. ‘And just called him your own?’

‘Not at first, but there are a lot of people after him.’

‘Oh yeah. I’m sure that tiny green thing is the galaxy’s most wanted criminal.’ You scoffed. 

‘What do you do?’ His helmet tilted again, this time out of curiosity. He got the vibe that you probably weren’t a full-time babysitter. You’d looked after his kid well enough but you didn’t seem like the sort of person who would voluntarily spend all their time with children. You swore too much for that. 

‘I’m trying to be a writer.’ You explained. 

That made sense, Mando thought, you certainly had plenty to say. 

‘Trying?’

‘Let’s just say that there isn’t a whole lot of writing happening.’ You replied. ‘You know, life gets in the way. I babysit and waitress to make ends meet but that leaves little time for getting shit done. I’m hopeful, though.’

Mando was almost bewildered by you at that point: you were the opposite of him in every way. You spoke about anything & everything, you’d anchored yourself to this city and you were trying to achieve a dream - an uncertain dream. He was the one that travelled the galaxy but somehow, you seemed to be more free. You had the sort of energy and optimism that felt like a stranger to him. Your presence alone against the cold, metal walls of his ship felt like a warm hug. 

‘Is it lack of inspiration?’ He asked. 

‘Maybe.’ You replied. ‘I thought Coruscant would help with that but it’s actually pretty fucking sad here. I can’t travel though, not when I’m working two jobs just so I can afford to live, let alone go on kriffing vacation.’

‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘I’m heading out tomorrow morning.’

You furrowed your brow. ‘Yeah. Where to?’

‘I have no idea.’ He replied. ‘But I need someone to watch the kid and you need to travel.’

‘Sure.’ You snorted. ‘I’ll just...I’ll just up and leave my whole life here behind to drop everything and travel the galaxy with a random man and his weird frog baby whilst I search for inspiration and - oh.’

‘What?’

‘That sounds like one hell of a story.’

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #22- If You Don’t Love Thunderclash, Get Better Soon I Guess

One last issue before we reach Comic Event Hell.

Time to use a dead man to set up the rest of the nonsense that’s got to happen, because apparently 14 issues of setup, including six issues of literal prelude, wasn’t enough.

The first bit of information we’re presented with is the fact that Chromedome and Swerve are on the opposite sides of the camera-shy scale. I guess that’s bound to happen when your spouse has had his video-cam literally connected to his brain for at least several thousand years.

The art may look really gritty and hardcore here, but this is actually due to a filter Rewind has over all his footage that he’s neglected to take off, because it made all the wartime propaganda he would stuff into people’s heads all the more brutal-looking.

No, this is the style of our artist for this issue, James Raiz, who we’ll be seeing a fair bit of over the next several issues. Raiz has worked on the Transformers franchise over the course of multiple license-holders, as well as contributed to both Marvel and DC comics. He also works in special effects, including matte painting and VFX. That’s just neat.

Anyway, the reason Swerve’s completely frozen in place isn’t because Rewind  switched out his head-mounted camera for a gun that goes off if it hears you make a self-deprecating joke, but rather because he’s conducting interviews with everyone in the main cast. We get all their introductions, Cyclonus makes a statement about his political stances, Drift sounds like he’s high as a kite, First Aid strikes a sassy pose while not being bitter in the slightest, and Ultra Magnus makes a move that would get him murdered on any given film set in the universe.

You do NOT use your bare fucking hand to clean a camera lens, mister. Go get a microfiber cloth and try the fuck again, you complete and utter duffel bag of a creature.

We get a quick cut of the speech Rodimus made back in issue #1, with an angle that implies that Rewind was in the front row of the front row, then cut over to Rodimus asking Rewind to document their Capital-Q Quest. This is where we establish that this film doesn’t only contain footage from Rewind’s personal camera, but also that of the Lost Light’s security system.

Which feels like the sort of access you maybe wouldn’t want to give some nosy little film buff, especially when you have a secret giant serial killing sadist living in your basement like a disappointing adult child.

See? He was given the job to record the adventures of the Lost Light not five minutes ago, and he’s already using his powers for evil. Eavesdropping evil. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, Rodimus, and you just handed it to the guy with a massive Dominus Ambus-shaped chip on his shoulder.

So Rewind’s got permission to film just about whatever he wants, and Rodimus figures it’ll be nonstop action from here to the finish line! Fights! Intrigue! Mild hijinks and peril! Explosions aplomb! Oh man, I can’t wait to see what kinds of crazy shit will happen on this absolute roller coaster of a Quest!

Smashcut to Swerve literally falling asleep in the middle of a conversation. Yeah, as it turns out, no quest, capital Q or not, is nonstop action. Which is good, honestly, because that kind of seems like it would be exhausting after the first week or so.

Swerve, Tailgate, and Rewind are discussing cool alt-modes, which seems like an odd topic, seeing as Tailgate and Swerve have basically the same situation going on there, leaving Rewind alone in the camp of “does not have wheels”.

I worry about you sometimes, Rewind. Internalized Functionism is a very real problem. Uh, well, in your universe anyway. Us humans have to deal with regular ol’ classism and racism.

Rung gets brought up, and it’s revealed that the wheel on his back is almost purely cosmetic; it doesn’t even actually attach to his body. The lads decide that they’ve got nothing better to do, and set up a gentlemen’s wager- first one to figure out Rung’s whole deal gets 100 space-dollars.

Throwing shit at people’s heads will be a major plot point in the climax of this comic series.

Swerve’s go at trying to win the bet involved tossing a grenade at Rung to hit him in the neural cluster, which is rumored to be able to force an involuntary mode change if done correctly. Obviously, it didn’t work this go around. Then our narrative focus switches over to the crew’s hobbies.

You were listening to Prince, weren’t you, Magnus? Not even deep space is safe from the Cease and Desist.

Skids’ hobby is meeting new people, because he suffers from the terrible curse of being so fucking good at everything he tries, he always ends up dropping whatever he picked up, because what’s the point? This acts as a segue into another flashback, to even MORE bullshit that the fellas got roped into on Hedonia.

These are the Stentarians. They’re like the Cybertronians, if they were better in every way.

And by “better”, I, of course, mean “more bloodthirsty, warmongering, and driven enough to make their civil war last about as long as the Jurassic Period”. Also, they’re all combiners by default, and Whirl seems a little TOO into their whole situation. So much so, in fact, that when the Imperial Guard of their race show up to kill them, he decides to do them a solid by single-handedly ending their entire war.

You know, in most cases you’re supposed to show and not tell for visual media. This is way funnier, though, so it can be excused.

We jump back into the interviews, and Rewind’s just asked everyone if they’re happy. This might seem like an odd question, until you remember that everyone on-board this ship has crippling depression and PTSD, and Rewind’s married to one of the saddest motherfuckers to ever exist, so he probably has this question loaded into the proverbial chamber at any given moment. We won’t cover all of the answers here, because they’ll be more poignant to reflect back on later in the comic run, but let’s take a gander at the characters who’ve completed the first leg of their character arcs this season.

Drift, is that perhaps… an honest expression of your inner thought processes happening right there? Has Rewind broken through your carefully crafted persona, if even for just a moment, with his question? Perish the thought!

Because Tailgate outed himself as being baby in issue #21, I have zero doubt he’s not exaggerating here. He was a janitor, then he fell in a hole and became Dirt-Nap Supreme for six million years; even the most boring day on the Lost Light’s got to be better than that.

And it’s nice to see Chromedome on a good day for once. Hopefully he reveled in it while he had the chance, because this interview takes place maybe a couple weeks before he fucks everything up big time and has to blow up his husband with a missile strike.

Getting back to the Mystery of the Rungian Alt-Mode plotline, we see Rung using his backpack as a wheelbarrow- no idea what he’s actually pushing in the damned thing- and wearing the most disgruntled face I’ve seen him pull in a hot minute. Someone yells for him to come down the eerily unlit and sinister-looking hallway, which he does. Rung would not do well in a horror film.

He winds up at Swerve’s, where Tailgate, Swerve, Brainstorm, and someone who is most likely Trailcutter, given the colors, are hanging out in their alt-modes. Tailgate’s ploy to find out Rung’s deal is to do what he does best- lie! They’re having an alt-mode party, and wouldn’t Rung like to join in? There are, of course, logistical issues with being a car in a bar, especially when your drink is on the table and your head is tucked up somewhere in your torso, but never mind all that! Let’s get crazy!

This doesn’t work either. Maybe we should cut out the middle man here and just get Rung drunk enough to agree to a wet alt-mode contest.

No, I don’t have any idea how that would work.

In our next vignette, Rodimus comes into the comms room, Rewind trailing behind him like a grim shadow of death, to see what the hell Blaster wants, other than just the hugest glass of water.

Raiz’s work is very detailed, and you really feel the weight of these giant metal space robots, but everyone looks like they’ve been put through a food dehydrator.

We get a lot of build up to the character who’s about to be introduced, with a common opinion being shared amongst everyone- even Tailgate, who hates successful people like his life depends on it.

Lovely readers, put your hands together for the ideal male partner for Autobots, Decepticons, and Neutrals alike:

A man with so much charisma and charm that only Rodimus could hate him, Thuderclash brings to IDW what everyone wishes Optimus Prime would, making our disappointing space dad even more mediocre by comparison. He fights for justice, and freedom, and the good of the universe- and he does it all while having a chronic medical condition that forces him to stay within a certain distance of his ship that is also a life-support machine, otherwise he will die. Despite his handicaps, Thunderclash seemingly brings to others what they need most, even if they don’t even realize that they needed it in the first place.

He also, in this one scene, appeals to Drift’s religious sensibilities, does a secret best-friend dance with Ratchet (who he helped to pass his medical exams- yes, Ratchet), and congratulates Rodimus on his questing so far.

Thunderclash is one of those characters that everyone in-universe is supposed to love, and I completely buy it- because he’s completely genuine and humble about all of this the entire time.

Compare this to the last time Roberts wrote Thunderclash, in Eugenesis.

Where he was an ex-Decepticon.

And kind of an abrasive asshole.

And then he died.

Y’know, now that I think of it, Eugenesis Thunderclash and MTMTE Ambulon being basically the same character makes a whole lot of sense, even without the horrors of Roberts’ Twitter getting involved.

Thunderclash reveals that he, too, is on a quest to find the Knights of Cybertron, much to Rodimus’ chagrin. But first he needs the Lost Light to break out the jumper cables, and then for his second in command to stop threatening his life.

Turns out, not everyone is as obvious as the Cybertronians with their naming conventions. Whirl assassinated the wrong folks; I’m sure the Galactic Council is utterly thrilled. Paddox wants to steal the quantum engine technology for the good of his people, so they can kick the ass of the up-and-coming Terradore leader.

Completely unaware of the situation unfolding here in the lab, Swerve is directing Rung towards the warm, loving aura of Thunderclash for another go at winning the gentlemen’s wager- through the power of lying about having friends, Swerve’s “agreed” to get Rung Thunderclash’s autograph, in exchange for getting to check that Rung’s transformation cog is still working. Then they bump into the nightmare currently unfolding. My, whoever will save us from this dreaded menace, who holds a gun to the head of the Autobots’ greatest warrior, confidant, friend, and perhaps even lover?

How about a bartender and a giant vape pen?

Okay, so Rung doesn’t actually turn into a vape. It turns out that the Mystery of the Rungian Alt-Mode is also a mystery to the man himself. Because Rung is old as shit, the Functionists got to see this bullshit for themselves, and ended up testing him over and over and over trying to figure it out, lest he prove to be a flaw in their fascist ideologies. Fun fact: fascists HATE it when people they’re trying to oppress don’t play to their expectations.

The Functionists were the ones who gave Rung his little wheelie backpack, to make him at least appear useful. This sort of treatment tends to warp one’s head a bit, which would explain why he’s bothered to keep it for so long- internalized functionism’s a real bitch.

At least he’s not giving teenagers nicotine addictions under the guise of being somewhat better than cigarettes.

Back with Rodimus and Cybertron’s Autobot of the Year for 40,000 consecutive years, we get the unfortunate news that jump-starting Thunderclash’s ship is going to make the Quest go a bit slower for the Lost Light, much to Rodimus’ horror, though he does his best to put on a brave face; after all, that’s what heroes do, isn’t it?

It’s at this point that it’s revealed that “Little Victories” was being screened to all the Circle of Light members who didn’t get murdered or turned into Legislators on Luna 1, and man are these guys pissy. What was meant to be a recruitment video turned out to do just the opposite, because none of these guys want anything to do with what the Lost Light’s got going on.

Too bad Rewind didn’t have time for a cleaner cut for showing. Maybe they could have at least snagged a couple of these guys to tag along.

As all of the Circle of Light leave the theatre to go call everyone’s favorite Autobot to see if he needs a more crew members, the film plays on behind Skids, back to the interviews, as everyone promises more adventures just waiting on the horizon.

You’re not even on this trip anymore, you dork.

Chromedome gives us the title drop for the movie and issue, and we cut to Rewind organizing a group photo of all the interviewees.

And then Rewind died horribly like a week later. Thus ends season one of More Than Meets the Eye!

While I’m here, I’d like to take the time to cover a little bit of cut content from this issue, a scene between Drift and Ratchet.

Drift, during his interview, recalls the time that Ratchet called him into his office for a very serious discussion about his/Pharma’s hands.

Yeah, turns out they’re haunted.

Well, no, not really, because this is a prank. But Drift doesn’t know that yet.

Ratchet demonstrates this hand-haunting by punching Drift in the face, as he screams damnation at Pharma’s ghost. Drift, because he is a spiritual man, knows exactly what to do to deal with this possession; he draws his sword and chops Ratchet’s hands off, then throws them out the airlock.

This, too, is a prank, not that Ratchet knows it right away, yelling at Drift that he’s crippled him.

Clearly, these two belong together.

This bit of cut script was lucky enough to have gotten drawn by the colorist for MTMTE Season 1, Josh Burcham. Burcham’s line art is iconic- you won’t mistake him for anyone else. It’s rough and angular, and honestly just very charming. I’m a sucker for this sort of style. If you want to see his adaptation of this chunk of script- and trust me, you do- the link’s right here:

https://dcjosh.tumblr.com/post/107665292031/its-done-the-mtmte-22-deleted-scene-in-all-its

[shortyisweird9]

'Lonely ghost serie'

Proposition and Accord-part VII

"Ghoooost! Good noon!"

"Hello!"

You opened your eyes slowly, barely awake from the deep sleep you had. The grogginess in your voice shadowed by the abnormal deepness of the voice changer.

"Hey, ghost."

"Corpse! Always pleased to hear you."

"Always ,ey?" Toast picked what you said in a more suggestive tone, teasing you with it.

"Cut it ,man."

You didn't bite on the trap however.

" Anyway, mind if I bring a friend?"

"Of course!"

"Sure why not."

"Okay,brb."

"So ,Corpse..."

"To early for that ,Toast."

Near the white astronaut Ghost had, a new little one came. It was black with a pair of headphones and a Wall-e companion. On top the name Charon was displayed.

The others started circling the new mate as Corpse's pink character stood unmoved by your side.

"Good evening!" A low and mature voice came from a woman. It didn't had a mechanical effect to it so it was coming in naturally.

"Hiiiii!"

"Hello!"

"Guys this is Andreea, Andreea this is the Peanut gallery."

"Ha,nice. Good to meet you all."

"Likewise."

"You too."

"Your robot is cute." Corpse remarked.

You smirked when your phone immediately lighted up. A message from Andreea written in big bold letters: 'HIS VOICE IS HOT!'

'I know :)))'

"Andreea , you know how to play this game?"

"Y-Yeah ummm..."

"Sykkuno."

"Sykkuno! Yeah, I know me and Y- I mean ghost sometimes play it. "

"You play together?"

"Well yeah, we play Fallout together, sometimes Minecraft even Eyes the horror game. Speaking of which ghost?"

"Yeah?"

"My place tonight?"

You smirked knowing what's to come.

"Time to corrupt another soul?"

You laughed was intentionally made to be interpreted by the others as evil and dark. In the inside you cringed, you sounded so stupid.

"Umm,guys?" Sykkuno asked for clarification, to which he will not receive.

"YOU GUYS LIVE IN THE SAME CITY?" Pooki asked all excited for some reason.

"Yeah?"

"Same city? We leave in the same apartment building." Andreea told ,a pleasant hiss rang as her long nailed hands opened a Pepsi can.

'Cola is better'

'Fuck off, Y/n'

':))🖕'

"That's so cute!"

"I guess,but she's a pain."

"A pain? Moi? Please, I am only in pain not one."

The others chuckled at your shenanigans, the humour between you and Andreea being based in play fighting, cursing each other and bumping as hard as you can into each. Considering how much of a height difference is between you two, everything just gets more interesting.

"Maan,I want to stay in the same building with you guys also." Corpse pouted.

You two sounded really nice to be with, especially you. You were fun to talk witg and your natural voice was a godsend to his anxiety and insomnia. It made him sometimes slip into a blissful sleep,especially when you began reading to him Doom lore in the late hours of the night.

' "The Maykrs' need for the Essence is prime. Without it they must suffer the monstrous fate of Transfiguration, and see their wisdom and faculties slither from their twisted forms. By bidding of the Khan Maykr herself, the Order of the Deag has devised a method to improve and accelerate the production of the Hell aura. What once took eons for the savage beasts to attai...oof. Wait."

Corpse heard you move in the bed, your body getting its pressure off it before settling back in.

He wanted to start to ask you to read again when he was interrupted by the sound of smooching ? You were kissing somebody?

You puffed and smiled as Sergiu bombarded you with another waves of kisses, a tradition in your group. You all were touched starved creatures so you showed your platonic affections through hand holding, sudden hugging, cuddling- sometimes propping your cold feet on the other person's back just to be dickish- and rains of kisses.

Sergiu was the most affectionate out of all of you, the rain of kisses being something that his mother used to do before she left to work. 'A kiss on the forehead to brighten your thinking, two on the cheeks so no one is lonely and one wherever you want.'

"Alright! Alright! I get it, you are leaving!"

You laughed as you pushed the cuddly golden retriver of a man away.

His chains attached to his black leather belt with grey 3d rombes running all over it clicked as it bounced. His hair smudged on the worn out black leather jacket and his face all but a smile. He was happy and you love to see it.

-Vrei ceva? ("You want something?")

-Umm...PIZZA PĂTRATĂ DE LA DEDEMAN ȘI MOUNTAIN DEW.("Um...SQUARE SHAPED PIZZA FROM DEDEMAN AND MOUNTAIN DEW.")

The man laughed at your antics, roughing up your freshly washed hair and closing the door as he left.

"Corpse? You still there buddy?"

Corpse felt a pang in his chest, you sounded like you have much more fun with the other person. He knew it was stupid but he couldn't help feel jealous and worried at the same time. He wanted to be the reason to make you sound so happy and he didn't want to be worried of being replaced anytime soon.

"Corpse? My petit orchid? Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah,I am fine."

It came out shaky and too abrupt for your liking. Something's wrong and you didn't want to overstep your boundaries but you couldn't let him go about his day while having something munching on his good mood.

"Hey,hey Corpse."

"Yes?"

"Wanna see my cat?"

"YOU HAVE A CAT?"

"Yes,so do you..."

"Hell yeah. I mean...sure I am cool with that."

You shook your head and became giggling, it's good to know you weren't the only one who didn't know how to cover their slip ups.'

"Trust me Corpse. You don't want to live with this anxiety filled owl."

"HEY! My anxiety adds spice."

"Oh my god!"

"Guys, guys. Can we start the game please?"

"Oh for sure."

————————————————————

"Watch out for the wall, ghost. Watch out for--GHOST! Oh shit ,I lost her guys! Ghost, where are you?"

His character ran in desperate search to find you. When it left the snowy environment from outside , it stopped abruptly. You were there in the office with Sykkuno ripped apart body in front of you.

"Oh shit! Sykkuno!"

His thoughts ran wilde as they hurried to reach a consensus. He knew that you will probably kill him also as you waited for those 10 seconds to pass.

His premonition was proven true went you shut the doors of the office , your character moving slowly towards him.

"Ahhh! Guys ,what the hell do I do?"

His eyes clenched shut as his finger hovered the report button.

The sound of a meeting went off,forcing him to let out the breath he's been withholding. His hands shook as he relaxed himself when his friends started discussing aka screaming at each other.

Someone else called in another body.

You held your fingernails between your lips, leg bouncing from the nerves. You knew Corpse will snitch you out,after all you did killed Sykkuno.

I am so fucked...

Your body covered in a white and black hoodie contorted itself into a smaller position.You ignored the pain that your dead thighs were trying to emit while being in a cross position. Head to busy with anxious thoughts of what Corpse may do.

"Phew, Jesus. I am too nervous for this game."

Andreea's words caught you off guard. She nervous? It's more likely than you think.

Your feelings long forgotten as your protective nature sprung out of the shell.

"You? Nervous? Andreea you are a freaking talented tattoo artist."

"It doesn't matter, my hands are sweating like they are the Danube river."

"Wait ,are you a tattoo artist?"

"Yeah ,I am. I started tatto--"

Mission accomplished! Your goal wasn't to comfort, you knew you sucked at that but to distract. To take her mind away from whatever cause her pain ,then to secretly totally not obviously attack the shit of whatever upset her even bad vibes. Fuck them bad vibes! You and your friends are bad bitches not second hand embarrassments.

"It will be nice if I could do henna also but this hoarding gremlin was only calm enough when she did them. So basically it became her summer job."

Ah. Your mind realised she was telling them how you two met.

You wanted to get some henna tattoos, see if you liked the way the look at you. Andrea was just a beginner when you entered the tattoo shop and her life.

You weren't always an anxious person,the situation changed when your math teacher decided to be a bitch and humiliate you for not knowing geometry. Since then you were always out of breath when you spoke in public, always bouncing your leg when stressed , biting off your nails and having a constant dread when it came socialising with others. And when you are a big girl that amplifies considerably.

People are just shallow like that and you learned a long time ago that their intolerance towards you was a THEY problem rather than a YOU problem.

It's hard thought, sometimes their words and disgusted glares burn you from inside out. Make you feel inhuman ,that your anger,sadness and your passion don't mean anything ,that they are not valid, that you cannot be yourself and liked at the same time nevermind seen as a romantic interest.

But I digress, when it came with Andreea ,everything when abnormally smooth, you joked and laughed, bitch about people and so on. You hit off immediately.

So when you wanted to make a bit of cash ,Andreea didn't hesitate to teach you how to do temporary tattooing.

"That's so nice guys,the body was in specimen room by the way." Dave said.

The others for some reason started blaming Rae , you didn't said nothing as you were still waiting with your breath tight for Corpse to rat you out.

"Corpse? Where were you by the way?"

Here comes the expose.

"I ..uh...wait. I was in the storage then I met Sykkuno in the office but left with ghost."

What?

"Ghost? Can you collaborate his story?"

"Yeah , me and him left Sykkuno. I think orange was with him last time we saw. I am done with my tasks by the way."

"What?"

"LUDWIG! HOW DARE YOU KILL SYKKUNO?!" Corpse growled.

You muted yourself as you squealed. You couldn't believe him. He really took your side!

You took a sip of your green tea, patting yourself on the back for being calm and getting back in the game.

————————————————————

"How could you ,Corpse? I trusted you and you stab me behind my back." Sykkuno exclaimed, pout evident in his voice.

"I am sorry Sykkuno..i-it's just...I...uhh.."

Your microphone was not muted this time so when you burst in laughter you dominated the whole discussion. You laughed ugly but happy as you always did, holding your lower abdomen as it clenched muscle you didn't know you have.

"It's NOT funny, ghost!"

"It'S nOt FuNnY, GhOsT! Bwahaha..."

Despite laughing ,deep down you worried you may have offended your new friends? Nah, too early to call them that.

"I think I know why Corpse did what he did." Grease started in a dramatic sober voice.

"You mean cheated on Sykkuno."

Ludwig ignited couple of laughter from the group.

"Yeah. He did it....drumb rolls please. "

Sean provided the suspenseful roll.

"Because he is a SIMP."

"WHAT?"

"No way..."

"You heard me."

The group went wilde. You didn't know what you could say, your mind crazy yet also numb. Poor Corpse.

"Hey, hey. Guys, please calm down. If you want to come for someone, come for my neck."

Your hands flared up into a peaceful backing sign, you knew of Corpse's bad anxiety and you didn't want to cause him distress by bringing the limelight into his face.

"It's alright, ghost. I am a big boy, I can take it."

You tried to keep it short, you really did but your mind wanted to say one more thing.

"Just like you can open foil?"

You heard a breath intake. You lowered your volume, thinking of what he may do.

"I FUCKING HATE FOIL!"

————————————————————

"Tonight was fun." Corpse said after taking a sip of water.

"Yeah, it was."

You watched your dark hair moving in the air as you played with your toes.

"Sorry again for bringing all the...uh...attention on you."

"It's fine,ghost. I know you didn't mean it."

"Y/n."

"What?"

"My name is Y/n."

Ah!

His heart jumped a bit ,you told him your name that means you trust him right. Lily doesn't know your name so he is the first to know. The first to guard this special information.

"Ghost was kinda wearing down,you know?"

"Y-yeah,...uhh..I mean no! Yes? No? Fuck...It's a pretty name,um...Y/n."

You haulted, getting used to him saying your name will take a while.

"Heh,thanks Corpsie."

"Mhmmm, did you have time to think about what I told you?"

Couple of nights ago,Corpse proposed the idea of starting your own Youtube channel. You were hesitant.

"Corpse, I told I don't think people really like me. I think they just like the voice."

"Non sense. You watched our stream?"

"Noo...? Sorry,I didn't really have time to..."

"Hey, it's okay goofball. Anyway,they were asking more videos with you. Maybe some of them like you because of your voice but most of them like you because they like your personality, gh- Y/n."

"Yeah, I guess..."

"Look you don't have to do it if you don't want to. I just feel bad for all the fans that want to talk with you or sometimes I found something funny and I want to send you or tag you. It's stupid I know."

You didn't like the sad tone of his, your heart tightened and your worries worsened.

"I think I am going to sleep. Goodnight, ghost."

"'Night,Corpse."

You were left in the darkness of your room, at the end of the bed with your long fingers reaching towards your knife, your personal fidget spinner. You chew your nail as you moved the blade unconsciously.

Corpse's account:

.ghost added you. Add them back?

————————————————————

Hey,guys!💖💖

Hope you like the seventh part of the serie. I almost went into a writing block with this one.

Anyway, have a nice day!💗💗

Tagged💖💖: @moolujk @magenta-skyline @yikesyikesyikes95 @mythicalamphitrite @yoyoanaria @simonsbluee @cherry-piee @gaysludge @softboiicorpse @heavenly3308