#suspicious cargo boxes

[teastyun]

༘⋆ pierced heart (tits)

(SFW) part 1/3

Abby might be your roommate, but she's for whatever reason so distant and cold towards you... until one day, you decide to pierce your nipples and manage to break a barrier inside of Abby.

pairing: roommate!abby x reader

╰┈➤ part 2 ; masterlist

late in the evening of a hard working day, you and Nora were chatting in the infirmary, when you noticed several cabinets containing her medical instruments left open, so you took a peek… and found several types of needles in sterilised bags, that would usually be used for medical procedures.

when you started searching for a specific needle, Nora stopped mid-sentence, "-y/n!! why the hell are you looking through my cabinets?" the confused tone to her voice made you instantly laugh, so you told her about your idea of piercing your nipples, "remember when I told you I found that vintage piercing studio back in the outbacks?" she continued looking at you with a suspicious look, so you continued "I found this brochure with several different types of piercings, and I bagged a few random essentials just in case, you know?" when she didn't respond, you took that as a cue to continue, "and well, lately this idea of piercing my nipples wouldn't get out of my mind-"

"y/n, are you serious right now?" she interrupted, but started laughing at your crazy idea. at first, she would completely deny it and tell you all the possible consequences of it. although, after a bit of convincing, she slowly started giving up and by the end she would even offer her help, so she knew you were on the safer side when it came to the procedure itself. few days after, you and Nora managed to pierce your nipples with all the equipment you two had gathered and you visited her for your daily check-ups and sanitising in the first two weeks.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡

after several months of your piercings adjusting and slowly healing, you decided to stay in your dorm to get back into your neglected hobby, when you finally had a few days off after hard working weeks.

since you and abby had similar positions in the military system, you also had a similar schedule, which resulted her few days off overlapping with yours, without the two of you knowing.

usually, you would always wear compression attire for work,, so today you decided to wear a normal, but still tight and light t-shirt, without your usual sport bra and your favourite comfy trousers. your piercings look beautiful, when only a thin layer of cotton was layering them. today, abby's roaming around y’all’s dorm getting her chores done, although a heavy tension sits between the two of you.

when she sees you on the couch in your cozy clothes, she only takes a quick glance while getting her books from the couch table, but stops mid-track and looks at you with an almost shocked expression on her face, still holding her few books in her hands. you notice her sudden change of action and look up, meeting her grey eyes. for the first time in ages, she finally speaks to you, “are those… pierced?” with a shocked undertone to it.

you look at her just as shocked as she is, but your eyes wander from her eyes down to her popular black cut-off tank and her usual khaki cargos, and back to her cold eyes. after a few silent seconds, you slightly confused respond “what else does it look like…?” abby is agitated by your response, but asks “how the fuck did you manage to get that done?” at first, you just ignored her.

when you got up to put your things back to your side of the room, you say with heavy annoyance in your tone “Nora got them done for me, why would you even care?? it’s not like you ever would,” when she obviously waited for a response.

with your back to her, you put your stuff back into your box under the bunkbed, but you didn’t notice how abby would follow you to your side. “also, it’s none of your business! don’t-“ you started, but Abby’s agitation rose with each sentence you said, she huffed and cut you off, “you know that you could have gotten a very bad infection or even fucking worse, a damn blood infection-“

“Abby, just stop talking!” your voice rose as you stood up to face her, and just now you’ve noticed how she was only mere centimetres away from your face. she was looking at you with a worried expression, but when you two realise how closely you stood, she takes a step back. you had no idea why the only time she would speak privately to you was such a cruel topic, and tears started forming in your eyes. embarrassed, you blink them away and look at everything else but her.

after a few moments, she finally speaks again, "I... What I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't do such reckless things," her hand goes through her loosely braided hair, "I didn't mean it like that." you still wouldn't look at her, and she went back to her chore.

"Then tell me, why are you always ignoring me?" you finally ask, when you observed her actions, still leaning on your cold metal bunkbed. your question clearly catches her off guard, but she wouldn't dare to look, nor answer you.

she simply continues grabbing her books from the tv stand. her actions agitate you, so you slowly walk up to where she's standing. Abby hears your steps, but this time she wouldn't back away. instead, she just stays there. she still wouldn't make eye contact with you though.

"Abby, please look at me," you say, but she closed her eyes with an almost pained expression. you softly hooked two fingers on her chin and turned her face to you, forcing her to look into your eyes. In them, you saw anger and frustration, but also... lust? your eyes observe every little detail on her face.

her slightly crooked, but Caucasian nose. her trail of freckles all over her face, nicely accentuating her sharp facial features. her pointy, but plump and rosy lips. your hand follows your eyes, tracing every feature you are able to find. when you traced her lips, you felt her taking a sharp breath, so you look back up into her eyes. you two didn't realise how close you two were now standing, until you felt each other's breath on your skin. before you could think any further, her hand draws you in by the back of your neck, her lips slightly hovering over yours with your hand on her cheek, "can I kiss you?" she asks in a whisper. you almost whimpered, but said "no," which made her instantly retreat in regret, but you hook your other arm around her neck, again looking into her eyes. "tell me why you ignored me all this time,"

she opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again. her eyes switch between your eyes and your lips, and she finally whispers "let me show why," before connecting your lips in a passionate, but clumsy kiss. after a few moments, the books in her hands fell to the floor and her hands were roaming all over your body, like a starving woman finally meeting all her desires. you wrap your arms so tightly around her neck that she feels every inch of your body pressed against hers. every inch. she pushes her leg between yours and a quiet moan escapes your lips, when you feel her firm thigh pressing against your core;

a/n: I'll post part two (definitely nsfw) in the next few days ♥ thanks for reading!!

[whitexwolfxx310]

|| You're A Weapon; And Weapons Don't Weep ||

Pairing: Bucky x female reader

Summary: After Bucky discovers that your once thought to be dead older brother is HYDRA's new super soldier, you're chosen to go on a mission with the team.

Warnings: **PLEASE READ** This fic contains death. If the idea of unaliving someone can possibly trigger you, please do NOT read this. Anxiety attack, cursing, angst, random sprinkles of fluff, use of y/n.

Word Count: 4.7

A/Ns: It has been way too long, but I finally got to write for my BBWWS again. I have a feeling there won't be too many chapters left for Bucky and his Sunshine. But I have been working on other ideas and another series is in the process. I hope you enjoy reading. I love you all! The messages, comments, reblogs, likes, etc. literally give me life and inspired me to come back and get into writing all over again. Enjoy your weekend, besties!!

Previous Part // Masterlist

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Any shred of hope that life would be returning back to normalcy remotely anytime soon got washed away by the tidal wave that was the news of your brother being the new super soldier for Hydra.

Tony and Steve called for intel meetings that basically became a fulltime job. At first it felt like an interrogation. They questioned you, curious as to why you would apply for an internship at The Compound. While the circumstances did seem suspicious, they eventually were able to rule out any foul play on your part.

The gatherings soon turned into wanting to know every intricate detail that they wouldn't be able to look up or hack out of any system. From dawn to dusk, the two men asked about your childhood together- trying to connect the pieces as to who Luke is, or was. Bucky stayed silently by your side the entire time and offered a stabilizing hand when things got overwhelming to discuss. But it also didn't slip by you that he focused on each and every detail, noting the intel for this mission.

After being able to specify things so minute; such as your brothers favorite books, favorite teacher from grade school, or the fact that he likes the color green- but not just any green, Sacramento green, because it reminded him of the vines that grew around the windows of your grandparents cottage that you would spend the majority of your summer's at as kids, you also got chosen to go on this mission. There was some minor pushback from the team, but ultimately Bucky took responsibility for you. You knew that he would keep you safe, even if it meant putting the part of his very soul that he felt remained on the line for you.

To say that the training was brutal would be an understatement. While the others had an entire lifetime to perfect their craft and years working alongside one another in unity, you had only a matter of weeks. You were thrown into a constant rotation of being educated on the newest technologies developed by Tony, boxing and going over endless tactical strategies with Steve, knowledge of weaponry with a hint of ballet to stay light on your feet with Nat... pure exhaustion wouldn't begin to describe it.

The day came when intel showed the Swiss Alps would be first on the mission log. Everyone was treating it like just any other, but the dreaded encounter was weighing down heavily deep within your stomach. The thought of using yourself as bait to lure out your brother spiraled into the millions of anxious outcomes that kept you up at night. Finally giving you just the smallest glimpse into Bucky's world. The doorway was creaked open to his nightmares.

"Wooow. You look like a Bad. Ass." Sam annunciates amusingly, as his eyes land on you walking up the small rear cargo ramp of the jet.

Your cheeks instantly blush, having already been self-conscious about the skintight, black Kevlar suit Nat gave you to wear. As more footsteps approach, you sink more into your seat and try to avoid any more eye contact.

"Just so you know, I heard that." Bucky's voice rebounds off of the metal walls before he even makes his way completely into the jet. "Don't try and make passes at my girl when I'm not aro-"

You don't need to look up to know that those steel blue eyes have frozen you into place, but you dare a glance. He's dressed in all black; Black boots, black tactical pants, a black leather jacket with the left sleeve torn off- showing his gunmetal and gold Vibranium arm, and a black glove on his right hand. The sight of him is intimidating, ready for combat and anything to be thrown his way. But those eyes. They hold a tenderness meant only for you. His magnetizing stare mixed with the wonderment expression on his face confirms his friends words and more. Okay, so maybe the suit isn't so bad.

"You're gawking." Sam is now at Bucky's side, smirking with his arms tightly crossed over his chest.

Bucky's face slides back into its usual consternation state before giving him a side glare. "Shut up." Sam shakes his head, laughing to himself lightly before making his way to the front of the jet.

You move to sit upright as he approaches, and Bucky's face finally softens. It always does when it's just the two of you. He reaches above where you're sitting to an overhead rack, casually leaning. Hovering like one of those seductive book boyfriends you'd swoon over, but for him it just comes naturally. Swallowing hard, you angle your head up to look at him. You find a slightly playful grin tugging at his lips and you crack a faint smile.

"You doing okay, Sunshine?" His voice is soft but concerned. A gloved thumb caresses down your cheek. The doting gesture entrances you to gently nuzzle into his palm.

"I don't know." You answer honestly.

He reflects on this a moment, his eyes searching yours. But he looks slightly blurry. The background noise is starting to become overwhelming. Numerous voices all start to overlap, the jet engines growing louder as they're warming up, the loud bang with each shipment container with weapons being loaded on board- weapons intended for my brother. It all combines into one long dragged-out, high-pitched ringing sound and your throat closing in on itself. Bucky senses this, notices and quickly acts. Wide eyed, he drops to his knees.

"Hey... Hey, y/n. It's okay." He quickly unfastens the harness from your seat. "Deep breaths." You can't help but notice how calm he sounds. "Hey...look at me." Bucky gently cups each side of your face, the intense coolness on the one side being a welcomed shock. Your eyes meet his, and when they do, all you see is his devotion. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here with you."

"I know you are." You mutter, pressing your forehead to his as you try to manage your breathing to match his.

"We'll find him." He breathes. "I made it out, he can too. I won't let anything happen to you while we’re out there, y/n." The urgency that his tone is trying to convey is heart wrenching.

"I know, Bucky."

"Here-" He pulls away for a moment to take a bag off his back. Unzipping it, he pulls out a water bottle. "Drink some water."

You smile internally at the gesture. As he's unscrewing the cap, you notice a novel in the bag. It's one he borrowed from you when you first met. There's a familiar stinging behind your eyes. What did I do to deserve this man? One who is willing to walk back into his version of hell to pull out someone that I love?

Sipping on the water of course helped, but Bucky tucking you securely into his side for takeoff is what kept the overwhelming anxiety at bay.

“I love you, so much.” You say against his chest, in appreciation. He snorts slightly, pressing a delicate kiss into your hair.

“And I love you, Sunshine.” Bucky adjusts his hips slightly. “Get some rest, we have a long flight.” Intricate fingers brush through your hair, eventually lulling you to sleep in the safe space that is your boyfriend’s lap.

Distant muttering started reeling you back from a dreamless sleep. Instinctively, you reach for Bucky whom you thought you were still sleeping on- only to find he had replaced it with his bag. The disappointment was starting to settle in when you hear his voice:

“I know how this can come across, but she’s strong enough. She’ll be able to handle it, Tony. I’m here, I can-“

“All I’m hearing is I, I, I, me, me, me, Barnes. You, my friend, were an exception. I don’t know if we can go in there and get this guy out alive, and even if we can, who knows what the aftermath is going to look like! For either of them! We’re taking a regular, a nobody off the street and putting a lot of pressure on her to do this. She’s already starting to feel it, that much is obvious. I’ve said from the beginning that this is a huge mistake. I understand your feelings here, from both sides. You want to make sure HYDRA doesn’t continue to pop up like daises and be there for the love of your life. I GET it. But this is a mistake.”

It’s apparent that Stark has walked away with the clinking of his heavy metal footsteps.

“You picked a good one, Buck. I have faith in her too.” There’s a small reassuring pat to coincide with Steve’s voice. “Y/n’s one of us now.”

“Thanks, Steve. I just… I have to save him. For her.” You can hear the exasperation in Bucky’s voice.

While tears sting from multiple emotions behind closed eyes still pretending to sleep, you feel overcome with something you haven’t experienced in this situation yet; determination. A sudden tenacity to prove the doubters that you can do this, that you can help your brother just how Bucky had, and that you wouldn’t bail and have a breakdown… again. No. From this point on, you refuse to let anyone see you as weak.

The bag underneath your head gently shifts and is quickly replaced with warm body heat that you quickly snuggle into. That warmth spreads as Bucky wraps his right arm around your body, pulling you in a little closer. His heart rate starts to slow, and his breathing becomes more regular. You just soak in the last moments before the unknown.

“He’s really going to just jump out the back of the jet like that?!” You try to yell, over the loud wind rumbling and your hair whipping around.

With Sam’s back facing towards you, he takes one absentminded step off of the opened ramp and is just gone. Your stomach drops along with him at the sight.

Bucky rolls his eyes as he hands you an earpiece, “Yep,” A second later, Sam comes back into view, now soaring with his Falcon wings. He gives Bucky a little sarcastic two finger salute and flies out of view. “He’s flashy like that.”

Putting the impossibly small earpiece into your ear, you can’t help but shake your head and laugh. It must be an almost forgotten sound with the weight of everything going on because now Bucky is smiling too.

“Well, I hope you’re not expecting me to jump out of a plane,” you say only half joking. Because if that’s the case, he’s going to have to literally throw you out.

“What did you think the parachutes were for?” Bucky asks deadpan, with a raised eyebrow and pointing to the packs behind him.

All of the color starts to drain from your face, when suddenly you saw the slightest twitch in Bucky’s lip.

“Oh my god. You asshole!” Bucky grabs his stomach and starts to hunch over laughing as you hit him in the arm. His metal arm. “OW!” You start shaking your hand out to wave away the initial sting.

Glancing at him, Bucky is doubled over, nose scrunched, laughing so hard that barely any noise is coming out and tears are welling up in his eyes. It’s contagious, especially as the throb in your hand turns into a dull ache.

I’ve missed this. Things being simple with us and not so draining. Moments that resemble a drop of normalcy in a typical ‘would be’ relationship. But I still wouldn’t trade it. Because he’s perfect. And he’s mine.

Once your lungs don’t feel like they’re on fire any longer, you let you a deep sigh, resting your hands on your hips. “God, I needed that.”

“Did you really think I would toss you out of a Quinjet?”

“Seemed like it in the moment-”

“Alright, love birds,” Tony interrupts, the heavy metal footsteps of his Iron Man armor catching both of your attention, "don't be late to the party," he says knowingly, palms glowing before he too disappears out of the jet.

“Don’t worry, Sunshine,” Bucky says, now standing next to you, “I have my own flashy transport,” he side eyes you with a playful grin.

Arms wrapped tightly around Bucky’s stomach; you can’t help but snuggle your cheek into his leather covered shoulder.

Of course, Bucky’s idea of flashy would be a motorcycle.

Your eyes flutter open to see Steve on his own come into view through whips of your hair. The boys. Two best friends riding like they don’t have the weight of the world constantly on their shoulders.

Steve’s bike has a bulky, all chrome classic look while Bucky’s is a modern, all black crotch rocket. Both have been modified to drive relatively quietly, and it’s such a weird dichotomy to still be able to feel the rumbling of the bike between your legs without all the noise.

One of your hands releases the clasp they had on one another, pressing your palm against Bucky’s chest- smoothing itself along his abdomen. Bucky sits more upright in his seat to press back into you more, using only his left hand to steer as his right encloses around yours, giving you a reassuring squeeze. The gesture is so minor, and yet you can just feel how he puts his heart into everything when it comes to you.

"We're going to pull off to the side up on the left. We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot," Steve's voice is solemn in your earpiece.

Bucky gives him a nod in acknowledgement, leaning back down to better control the motorcycle. This time, his hand doesn't leave yours.

The trek through the Switzerland forest was less than a mile, but with each step your feet grew heavier and that sour stomach of yours returned with the dread of seeing your brother again. If he could even be considered your brother anymore. Who knows what actually remained. As much as you have begged and pleaded with the universe to make yet another exception for Lucas just as it had for Bucky, you were terrified of the man that you would soon encounter.

Just shy of coming out of the tree line to the supposed to be abandoned old military base, you hear a series of echoing pops- stopping all three of you dead in your tracks.

Gunshots.

Bucky and Steve exchange a quick, wide-eyed glance at one another, “Go, we’ll catch up.” Bucky says, and within the blink of an eye, Steve takes off running at super soldier speed.

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until Bucky turned to face you, his shoulders squared, lips in a tight thin line. But looking between your eyes, he loosens a breath, gripping your shoulders, “Listen to me, Sunshine,” he makes every attempt to soften his voice, but a few more pops and yelling sound off in the distance making you wince. His hands grip you tighter, “I need you to focus. What I’m about to say goes against everything I normally believe, but in this circumstance it’s critical…” he sighs, looking down before back into your eyes- trying to convey the seriousness of what he’s saying, “you have to push the fear down. And I know how that sounds, but you can’t walk in there with that look on your face. Because honey, these people will not hesitate to kill you.”

You gasp lightly at the graveness of his words. It’s not like you didn’t know this walking into the mission, but it’s different once you’re actually here.

Bucky sighs again, his expression softening as his hands cup each side of your face especially gentle, “I know, baby. I know. I won’t leave your side,” he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, “I just… I can’t lose you.” His voice cracks slightly, even at just the thought.

Even with your eyes teetering with the threat of tears, you nod in understanding. Placing each of your hands over his, you press your lips to Bucky’s- holding them there, accepting that the moment they pull apart it’s no longer about the two of you, but about the mission. Luke is your mission.

“I love you,” you murmur, before opening your eyes to see deep consternation in his.

Disassociation is a powerful coping mechanism for human beings. It can feel like an outer body experience or even a dream. More like a nightmare. But as you follow into the bunker where the screaming leads, closely behind Bucky with your gun drawn watching for any sudden movements and stepping over the trail of bloodied bodies in the hallway, you're thankful for the part of your brain trying to convince you that this isn't real.

"Still no sign of Castle," Sam's voice was pragmatic in your earpiece.

Bucky looked back over his shoulder at you while still walking, "Maybe he's not here after-" and that's when you see the slightest shift of a shadow in an inverted doorway.

It was so small that in any other instance you would just assume your eyes were just playing a trick on you. But not here. Your body reacted before your mind could even fully register- taking a sudden step to the side, you fired off two prompt shots. A heavy thud followed.

Practically giving himself whiplash, Bucky looks at where you shot and back to you. His eyes widen, mouth open slightly at the realization of what just happened. What you just did- for him. Your eyes haven't moved from that doorway, and your grip is tighter on the gun than it probably should be. Pain surges through your jaw with how tightly your teeth are clenched and yet, you wait to see if anyone else is there. Is there another shadow lurking just waiting for the opportunity to harm one of you?

"Y/n..." Bucky's voice is delicate as his eyes dart around, also looking for shadows, "we have to keep moving," he says in a coaxing manner.

I can’t. The words blare in your mind like a doomsday siren and yet you can’t speak. All you can do is focus on that that dark corner where the pool of crimson continues to grow.

Bucky steps in line of your gun with somber eyes meeting yours, causing you to simultaneously point it towards the ground and break your trance. You didn’t realize just how high and how tight your shoulders had been as you loosened your breath. A new version of you being transformed as you exhale.

“I-” You try catching your breath, completely slack jaw and shaking your head just trying to comprehend what you did. “I…I just-” and the tears are flowing. No crying, no uncontrollable sobbing, but a small steady line of tears as the overwhelming awareness of taking control and trading a life for someone that you love comes to light… just flows.

“You did what you had to,” he answers for you, nodding sympathetically. You don’t deserve kindness right now, do you? But that is why he is good. And that is why he deserves to live.

“We have to go, y/n.” Bucky says, looking over your shoulders and behind himself again. “It looks like no one else has been down here yet.” He grabs your hand, not waiting for a response before he’s treading down the hallway again.

Your feet shuffle instinctively at first to follow him, but the brightness of the flickering fluorescent lights quickly grounded you to where you actually are. There are lives at stake and you need to keep your head.

The distant noise of constant struggle seemed to almost completely stop. Every few minutes you would hear a familiar voice say 'clear' in your ear and relief would wash over you, just thankful for knowing that they were alive.

It got cold the further you went, meaning you probably had gradually descended underground. Finally, at the end of what seemed like a never-ending tunnel, was a large set of metal double doors with multiple large chains and padlocks.

You and Bucky exchanged a quick glance with one another before he fists the chain with his Vibranium hand, pulling effortlessly as they break into pieces. He pushes open the doors to reveal a large, primarily empty room aside from a bunch of dusty, bulky outdated computers. Most of the overhead lights don’t work, so it seems darker in here than it did in the corridor.

Bucky steps into the room and starts looking around, his boots crunching noisily on worn rubble and glass. You hold your breath, watching as his fingers skim along the keyboards, his eyes squinting at the monitors as he passes each one as though looking for something.

And then he stops at one in particular. He eyes it carefully before looking up at the ceiling to the lights again.

“What is it?” You can’t hide your curiosity.

“There’s still power to this base,” he says observantly, turning his attention back towards the computer. “Maybe…” he mumbles to himself, leaning over the monitor a bit, his fingers blindly searching before pressing the power button. Bucky stands back as the screen comes to life, but his eyes widen, alarmed as to what he sees.

“Bucky?” You ask apprehensively, moving to stand next to him and also look at the screen. It's mostly black, but there's a green contour of... a face?

"Hello Sergeant Barnes," the computer says with a German accent.

"Oh, what the fuck?" Bucky steps back, his hands fisting into his hair.

The voice chuckles, "Come now, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

“Is… the computer talking? To you?”

“Why, yes, Ms. Castle. I am,” your stomach turns over at the sound of the voice addressing you as well.

“What the fu-” you go to repeat Bucky’s words but get cut off.

“Does the facility seem… familiar, Barnes?” Zola asks, condescendingly. “Or, at the very least, the machinery?”

Bucky's eyes start to dart around the room, taking in the different equipment before muttering to himself in dismay, "these control the cyro chambers..."

The computer laughs menacingly, "Ah, so you do remember. Good! Good..."

Rolling his arm once while taking a large step forward, Bucky brings it down, crushing the computer completely. Exposed wires spark briefly from the powerful impact, otherwise leaving the room in silence.

“What- who was that?”

“Arnim Zola. A scientist for HYDRA. The one who, well…” Bucky passively gestures to himself, “experimented and is responsible for me.”

Suddenly, another one of the numerous screens comes to life- the digitized green face grinning, “tsk, tsk. Oh, Soldat…”

“I won’t answer to that anymore,” Bucky maintained through gritted teeth, raising his arm to disintegrate this talking monitor as well just as it says:

“Who said I was talking about you?”

Just then, you hear quick, trudged steps. The only warning you had before been picked up, as easily as a pillow and aggressively, carelessly thrown aside into a metal desk, knocking some of the computers that sat on top along with you.

You tried gasping for the air that was stolen from your lungs on impact with the floor, but it didn’t come. Instead, it burned, more than the pain creeping around the left side of your ribs as you sluggishly moved to sit on your knees. Looking up, you meet the threatening gaze of the one who attacked you.

He was exceptionally tall, especially from your view on the floor. Lean, but had an athletic build and strong. Super strong. He was dressed in all black tactical gear, the only color being a large red Soviet star in the center of his chest. A black mask covered all but his eyes, keeping him faceless. He was pale, as if he hadn't seen actual sunlight in years and had shoulder length dirty blonde hair.

But those eyes. They cemented you to the floor- glaring, daring you to move or even breathe. Just the look that he conveyed felt like you were in the presence of death itself. As you were able to take your first small breath, your lips parted, and eyes narrowed as they locked into his deadly gaze. There was such a darkness glazed over the emerald irises, but you'd recognize them anywhere.

"Luke..." you exhale, painfully. Both physically and emotionally.

His brow twitches slightly at you saying his name, like his mind is trying to recollect it from a long-forgotten dream. As his body turns to face you, he suddenly gets shoved back a few feet, "Back off, Castle." Bucky warns sternly, stepping between you and your brother.

Gripping the desk, you use it to hoist yourself up, whining slightly and grabbing at your left side realizing that you most likely have some broken ribs. The sound of your pain distracted Bucky for one second, and Luke took that opportunity to lunge forward and kick him high in the chest. With a breathless grunt, Bucky barrels backwards into you, knocking your back flush against the wall.

Luke was there in the blink of an eye, grabbing Bucky by the collar of his jacket. The two of them quickly became a tangle of throwing fists and kicks, breaking apart to find anything around to throw at one another. Overturning desks, throwing chairs, Bucky even chucked a still laughing Zola computer at Luke.

While you never thought the two most important men in your life would ever have the chance to meet, this is not the way you would have ever imagined it.

With your back still flat against the wall, you slide down to sit on the floor, starting to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the overwhelmingness of the situation, but instinctively you bring your hand to the back of your head, and it feels... wet. Looking at your fingers, they're now coated with fresh, warm crimson blood. It's getting harder to think straight with the tunneling vision, but you realize that you hit your head against the wall from the collision of bodies.

"Please..." you choke out a sob, "please, stop," you beg. But they can't hear you over their own heated screams and grunts as they continue to fight one another. Your narrowing vision focuses on Bucky, seeing that he is fighting more defensively- actively trying to avoid hurting Luke, pulling his punches where he can. Tears burn behind your eyes at the sight, knowing that if this were anyone else, it would already be over.

"Luke!" Bucky yells and quickly dodges to the side, avoiding the knife now sticking out of the wall that Luke threw at him. "Your sister came here to get you back! She's here for you. We're here for you!" Bucky maintained his distance, mirroring Luke's movement's trying to rely on his words rather than fists. They're pacing, waiting for the other to make a move.

The ringing in your ears was becoming too hard to ignore and as much as you tried to fight it, sweat started to bead up on your skin. You were losing consciousness, and fast.

"Bucky," you breathe out. His body tenses as he looks over at you, eyes wide. He jumps over one of the only remaining desks in the room and kneels down, hands hovering over body briefly, afraid to touch you.

"Okay... okay," he mutters to himself, scanning you over, his eyes linger on your hand with the now drying blood on them. Bucky gently cups your cheek, his thumb grazing over it as he forces a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You're gonna be okay, Sunshine. I-I'm going to get you outta here and get some help, okay?" His voice sounds shaky as his chest heaves, "Sam? I need a med evac for y/n,"

You nod once, or at least you think you do, as you continue to focus on Bucky. Everything around him starts to fade into a deeper black void. The last thing you see is Luke step into view over Bucky's shoulder to look down at you. At some point during their altercation, his mask had been ripped off. His lips were pressed into a thin line as his teeth clenched and remained expressionless while Bucky continued to stroke your hair and try to speak calm, reassuring words of how he would make sure you would be okay as you slipped under the surface of complete darkness.

@peaches1958 @aquabrie @elsie-bells @pono-pura-vida @redbloodedgurl @almosttoopizza @beware-my-thorns @prettylittlepluviophile @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny @calwitch @ozwriterchick @roofwitty779 @lessersole @lil-darhk @agoddoesnotplead @saranghaey @erinallene @mrsvxder @elizabeth916 @cjand10 @bucky-barnes-lover @wintrsoldrluvr @skulliecadaver-blog

[petrichor-idyllic]

Vol and Friends Information | The Maze Runner Fanfic Concept

This is a character and idea I wrote a long time ago and found sitting in my drafts. So, I figured I would finally share her with you guys. Character writing is my thing and I thought I should post something since I've been so inactive.

UNIVERSE WRITING NOTES

As most of you know, the Maze Runner movies and books are actually quite different from each other. Of course, I prefer the books but there are some things I think the movies do better, so I've decided to use aspects from both the books and the movies to use in this potential fanfiction.

From the Movies

Takes a couple of days to recall names.

Layout of the Glade/the Maze is the same.

Characters look like their Movie counterparts for the sake of simplicity.

The Grievers look how they're depicted.

Alby is kinder and less brutal like how he's depicted in the movies.

The Gladers have been there for three years (as of the arrival of Thomas, the story starts a year before the end.)

From the Books

The Beetle Blades exist and are how the Creators observe the Glade.

Thomas and Teresa have their telepathic connection and psychic style dreams/flashbacks exist.

Minho is more sarcastic like how he is depicted in the book.

Grievers don't only come out at night. Whilst not as common, Grievers are active during the day. The Runners have encountered them many times.

The Changing isn't rare to go through and the Gladers already have the serum provided by the Creators.

The Box comes up once a week with supplies and once a month with a new Greenie.

I thought it would be smart to clarify and show the best aspects of both media.

GENERAL CHARACTER INFORMATION

Protagonist Name: Vol

Named after: Voltaire; François-Marie Arouet, also known as M. de Voltaire was a French Enlightment writer, historian and philosopher in the 1700s. He was famous for his wit, and his criticism of Christianity (especially of the Roman Catholic Church) and of slavery. Voltaire was an advocate of freedom of speech, freedom of religion, and separation of church and state.

Subject: A0 "The Trespasser"

Sex: Female

Pronouns: she/her

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Age: 17-19, exact age is unknown

Job: Builder, then later a Med-jack

Appearance:

Face claim: Iva Varvarchuk

About 5'4" with a slim but lean build, she has white skin with freckles and some scarring. She has brown almond eyes and dark eyebrows. She has short, slightly messy brown hair that is often tied half up half down or pulled back in a tight messy french braid. She wears whatever clothes she can get her hands on, but is normally seen wearing the worn leather jacket and off-white hoodie combo that she came up in the box in. She also can be found wearing the grey tank top and baggy cargo pants she arrived in.

Personality: Vol is fiery and critical with a slight violent streak and a drive to do what's right. She believes strongly in equality and that she is just as capable as her male counterparts. She has no problem putting the boys in their places if they stare for too long or make an inappropriate comment. She often gets in arguments for her beliefs and ideas and isn't above going against the Keepers and Alby to get her point across. She's often described as "too smart for her own good"; her intelligence and quick nature often being a tense point in the Glade. Her intelligence is also exaggerated by her suspiciously good biology knowledge. She's very easily frustrated, especially when people don't listen to her. Despite being very critical and harsh, she can't always take what she dishes out; Vol struggles to take valid criticism and is quick to become defensive as she takes most things to heart. Due to her politically charged nature, she's often routing for the underdog and has a soft spot for Greenies and struggling Gladders- she's almost always willing to risk her mental and physical health for anyone that needs it. She's also beyond willing to jump to anyone's defence should she believe they need it. Because of this, she becomes somewhat of a big sister figure in the Glade- caring but sarcastic and occasionally violent. When she's around the few people she actually looks up to/admires, she becomes more relaxed. She's genuinely witty and often makes jokes that go over people's heads, but she's not nearly as reckless and cutthroat. She tries to lighten the mood after rough days and try and lift spirits, especially after the dreary repetition the Runners go through. She even makes flirty comments and jokes just to watch the boys squirm. Though, the pressure can get too much, especially after certain events skyrocket her into more popularity and conflict than she'd already managed.

OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

LEO

Name: Leo

Named after: Leonardo Da Vinci - Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci (15 April 1452 – 2 May 1519) was an Italian polymath of the High Renaissance who was active as a painter, draughtsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect.

Subject: A17 "The Deliquent"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 16 - 18

Sexuality: Bisexual

Relationship to Vol: Friend

Job: Slicer

Appearance:

Face Claim: Benjamin Wadsworth

About 5'11" and with a pretty strong build. He has tanned skin and several scars and can often be found stained with blood.

Personality: He's extroverted and boisterous, often causing problems and liking being the centre of attention. He's weak-willed and doesn't seem to care about leaving as much as the other boys. He doesn't get along with Minho and most of the Runners for this reason. He's a thorn in Alby's side and has a record for breaking most of the rules- the Slammer is basically his home. He can be incredibly overprotective and forward with his feelings and opinions. He loves to argue and get a rise out of people. He is a definition problem child.

OTTO

Name: Otto

Named after: Otto Hahn - a German Scientist known as the "Father of nuclear chemistry."

Subject: A23 "The Shield"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/they (the latter going unused in the Glade)

Age: 16 - 18

Sexuality: Homosexual

Relationship to Vol: Best friend/found brother

Job: Track-hoe

Appearance:

Face Claim: Unknown model

About 6'1" and very skinny. He has slightly crooked teeth and a slit in his eyebrow.

Personality: Otto is more timid and introverted than his counterparts. He lives is Vol and Leo's shadow, opting to just be known as the boy that came up with the girl than making a name for himself. He's kind of a pushover and can be talked into pretty much anything. He kind of a hopeless romantic but he's fueled by logic, providing a much needed level-headedness to his friends, especially when Vol is worked up and willing to go along with Leo's schemes.

DALTON

Name: Dalton

Named after: John Dalton - An English chemist best know for introducing the atomic theory into chemistry.

Subject: A19 "The Statue"

Sex: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Asexual/Aromantic

Relationship to Vol: Friend/Body Guard

Job: Bulider

Appearance:

Face claim: Mukasa Kakonge

About 6'4" and well-built. He towers over most of the other Gladers. Has a lot of scars on his hands from his job.

Personality: Dalton is the quietest one of the group. He prefers to stick to himself and the only reason he's social at all is because Leo was the Greenie before him, and had to show him around - now they're friends. Though, unlike Otto, he isn't timid. He has a very intimidating presence and simply doesn't care for the Gladers' conversations or opinions. He is very protective of the people he does care about, though, and isn't scared to intervene when the others get themselves in trouble.

RELATIONSHIPS TO VOL

Friends

Otto: After waking up in the Box, Otto was lost and dazed but had enough common sense to try and wake up the teenage girl who was also passed out. After that, Vol took to protecting her timid friend and is often the more offensive of the pair despite her being the odd one out. Otto is the only person she truly trusts because they're the only person that she's knows for sure is in the same situation as her.

Leo: Vol meets Leo during her trial as a Slicer. He offers her advice and helps out, giving her tricks and ways to make the job easier. He's also the person that convinced Vol to ask Newt about becoming a Med-jack due to her anatomy knowledge. He's more laid-back than most of the Gladers around her so she gains some respect for him and they quickly become friends. Though, Leo quickly shows himself as a bad influence, causing problems in Vol's other relationships. But, due to Leo's unfaltering loyalty, she sticks by him.

Dalton: He kind of came as a deal package with Leo. Vol wasn't sure what to think of him at first, but Dalton proved to be a big softy that would crush anyone that got too close to her, and the pair became close fairly quickly.

Newt: Like most of the Gladers, his relationship with Vol is few and far between as she's got her own little group and she chooses to spend time with them. That being said, Newt is probably one of her more favoured people in the Glade. He's one of the most respectful Gladers and he helps where he's needed, even if he can be sarcastic and nihilistic.

Alby: Alby is more of a leader than a friend to Vol, probably because he is. Though, he does have a soft spot for the girl and sees the same admirable traits in her that he saw in Minho when he first assigned him as the Keeper of the Runners. He tends to keep an eye on her so that he can make sure none of the boys are causing her problems.

Frypan: Due to his small crush on the girl, Frypan is very kind and understanding towards Vol, often letting her vent and giving her extra food under the table. Because of his kindness, Vol occasionally helps out in the kitchen, even delivering and making food for the Runners before they go out into the Maze for the day.

Chuck: She becomes somewhat a mother figure to Chuck, her need to protect and look after him coming to the forefront of their relationship. She's definitely one of Chuck's favourite people in the Glade.

Jeff and Clint: Her coworkers who try and keep her out of trouble. She likes them both equally and appreciates their help and the lack of questioning of her abilities.

Love Interest: Minho

Kinda Enemies to Lovers.

They got off to a bad start when Vol tried to escape the Glade on her first day and Minho had to stop her.

She punched him in the jaw and had a meltdown.

She tried to apologise once she'd calmed down (and Ably made her) but Minho was just sarcastic and bitter. Due to her stubborn nature, she insulted him and stormed off.

Leo's negative opinion of the Runners only adds to this.

Tension lies in physical attraction and occasional staring at first.

Minho comes to admire her morals.

She comes to admire his work ethic.

The pair argue for fun, but no one else seems to notice the spark behind their sarcastic exchanges.

Alby thinks they don't like each other because they're too similar.

Which is exactly why Newt thinks they do like each other.

Other

Gally: The pair got off to a rough start on her trail as a Builder, and then later arguments during her time as a Builder, so there is some tension between them. She eventually comes to admire Gally and his passionate and caring ways, even if he doesn't show it in the best way. She finally starts to respect him as a Keeper, even if their frenemy status still remains.

Thomas: A late arrival to the Glade, she tried to be kind to Thomas when he appears but since he moves at a million miles an hour and is more reckless than she is, she's normally too busy to spend time listening to his antics.

Teresa: Initially, she was beyond pleased to have another girl in the Glade, but overall they don't spend much time together apart from Vol attempting to befriend the girl, who's all too interested in thinking up ideas with Thomas.

Ben: Since he's a Runner and spends a lot of time with Minho, the pair have had a fair few conversations and he witnesses a lot of arguments. He actually likes siding with her because he enjoys annoying Minho. But she wouldn't exactly consider him a friend.

Winston: He's a Glader she sees around and doesn't really talk to. He seems nice enough and she has nothing against him.

Zart: The same applies to Zart as it does Winston.

[helion-ism]

SJM Romance Week 2024 Day 1: First Date

@sjmromanceweek

Summary: “This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had,” he said and laughed, sipping his glass of wine. / Elain and Lucien’s first date.

Word Count: 2,014

or: read it on ao3

someone lit from within

There was only one thing Elain Archeron hated more than spiders, hated more than withered flowers or more than cold tea. One thing that she hated more than waking up to dark grey clouds hanging threateningly over the city, one thing that made her shiver more than any horror film could ever do. 

Wrapping her arms around her body and clutching her light blue Cleo bag to her stomach, Elain was squeezing past the people trying to stow away their luggage in the cargo hold of the small airplane she was boarding. She absolutely loathed that there was simply no way of entering and leaving an airplane without having touched at least five different people. 

She’d been trembling for at least an hour now, ever since arriving at that wretched airport. Was shaking despite wearing her favourite sweater for comfort. Nesta had gifted it to her for her last birthday. Elain hated herself for a moment for not spending additional money for a seat of her choice. Then she wouldn’t have had to make her way all through the aisle to the very back – of course, she would be that unfortunate. It didn’t matter that this was a small plane and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t too badly packed. It did nothing to calm her furiously beating heart. But she had promised Feyre. She’d promised she’d come visit again for Nyx’ first birthday, and she wasn’t one to break promises. Especially promises that involved the cutest nephew a young woman could have.

For as long as she could remember, Elain hated flying. Even as a little girl she knew that there was nothing natural about humans trapped in a box in the sky completely relying on forces most of the passengers did not care to grasp. It wasn’t normal, she thought now, too. It was especially not normal how she began to tremble uncontrollably as soon as she boarded the plane while every other person seemed to be fine with it, a few of them even enjoying the process simply because it meant going somewhere else. They weren’t even in the sky yet. She had debated requesting diazepam from her doctor but ultimately decided against it. Elain wanted to fight this – in her opinion – utterly rational, albeit apparently not very common, fear of flying. 

A woman was what looked like fighting with her carry-on bag in the aisle. Elain stopped and smiled politely. The blonde cursed when she noticed Elain, apologizing, and moved out of the way. Another reason for hating flying: Almost everybody was stressed. There was absolutely no way of travelling by airplane and not getting stressed in the process. Everyone seemed to be on the edge, the slightest annoyance reason enough for a ruined day. 

Elain finally reached the back where her seat was. She was sweating and desperately wished for a shower. Some rows weren’t fully occupied, but there were enough passengers on the plane that at least one person was seated in each row. She hoped — 

Elain frowned as she looked at her ticket again that she had pressed into her chest. Yes, there was somebody occupying her seat, the one she’d not chosen, the one in the very back. She cleared her throat, unsure of what to do. The man was handsome, his long red hair was tied up into a half bun. A thin braid accented his facial bone structure, and Elain’s heart appeared to stop for a second when he looked up at her and smiled, immediately getting up.

“Do you have any luggage I can help you with?” His voice was like honey, smooth and gentle. 

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine, that’s all,” Elain said, not understanding at all why she sounded so nervous. She blamed her aerophobia. The stranger looked at her, waiting.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “Do you want the window seat?”

“Why?” Did she sound suspicious? 

“I’m just being polite,” he said, holding his hands up in defence. “I fly quite a lot, so I don’t really care where I’m sitting.”

“No, no,” she replied quickly, feeling like a fool. “I don’t want to. But thank you.” She tried to smile at him, but had a feeling it looked more like she was cringing. She also immediately regretted her answer. Who on earth would turn down a window seat? 

After she settled down and the plane’s engine started, the noise cutting out the voices and the rustling of the passengers, Elain noticed the temperature of the cabin. Despite feeling quite hot when entering the plane, she almost always felt cold in flying box – another phenomenon she could not quite understand.

She shivered at the coldness, cursing herself silently for not bringing her jacket with her, and closed her eyes as the plane began to move. Everything seemed to be going wrong. 

She hated this part the most and wondered whether she should have taken the train instead. But it was a tedious trip, too long and exhausting, and flying was just too convenient. The handsome stranger next to her did not seem to have a problem with flying or the temperature at all, so Elain tried to not let her anxiety show. He smelled nice, too. But that didn’t matter now when the plane was taking off. 

Elain gripped the armrest tightly and closed her eyes. Only a few minutes and this would almost feel like a train ride. Ant then finally – 

Pace picking up. Turbines louder. And those few seconds of anticipation and dread in every passengers’ stomachs right before the plane takes off. Air rushing. Ears popping. 

At last, the plane levelled out. To calm herself, Elain took out a small book out of her bag and began to read it. Nesta had given it to her for her a while ago, and from what Elain knew about Nesta’s book preferences, she didn’t need to look at the description on the back of it to learn that it is a romance with quite a few explicit scenes. She wondered if the stranger next to her saw what smut she was reading. But she couldn’t focus, her eyes registered to words, but her brain didn’t. Elain decided to put the book away. 

Now, she sat in her seat, still restless, wondering when the flight attendants would come to serve drinks and snacks. Maybe that would help. 

The last time Elain had flown was about a year ago when Nyx had been born. She had felt a lot more awful back then, having just discovered Graysen in bed with his assistant. His 20-year-old assistant. In her and Graysen’s bed. Needless to say, Elain got rid of that bed. And the guy. But God, had she felt awful. Crying in her seat and mourning both her old life and her future as his wife. She could not remember if she had been scared then. Maybe that was the trick, Elain thought now. 

Suddenly, the all-too-known and hated, shrill beeping noise came out of the speakers. Elain peered out the window behind the stranger, but it was too dark. She didn’t know what she’d been thinking booking a flight at night. The plane began to shake, and she imagined the wind was howling outside. Turbulences. Of course, there would be turbulences. Elain had thought it might calm her down, might stifle her uneasiness, flying in the dark. Not seeing anything, maybe she could pretend she was taking a train through the countryside where no city lights lit up the surroundings. 

Obviously, it did not calm her down. She was fairly certain she was shaking slightly. 

She couldn’t just pretend to be in bed, couldn’t pretend her window was open and the airflow coming from the air conditioning wasn’t just the wind breeze in her face. It was the noises that destroyed any possibility of that. 

A baby was crying somewhere in the front.

Elain clutched her throat. Suddenly, a male voice, soft and cautious, asked, “Are you okay?” She knew the only reason why she didn’t feel embarrassed at that was her fear. Embarrassment would follow later.

“I’m just … a little afraid of flying, that’s all.” 

He was silent. Then, he said, “That explains your pale face.” Elain snorted at his reply and opened her eyes to see him look at her tentatively. He really was very handsome.

“You know, the odds of an airplane crash are one in eleven million. More than 90 percent of plane crashes actually have survivors. Chances are pretty good. It’s more likely you experience a train crash. Or even more than that, a car crash. How many people do you know who have been in a car accident?”

Elain thought about his question for a few seconds. “Like four people.”

“How many of those happened separately?”

“Three,” she smiled at him now.

“And how many people do you know who have been in a plane crash?”

“You know, that’s not fair. Obviously, no one.” He grinned at her. “But! But that doesn’t make my anxiety magically disappear.”

“I understand that argument. The first time I flew, I was about five years old. Went to visit my dad for the first time. I was so scared. My mother never told me I was silly for being scared. She understood and told me the same I just told you. Statistics helped me. But also knowing that flight attendants were trained for difficult situations. If you can’t rely on numbers, then you should try to rely on people.” He held out his hand to her. It was warm when she took it, shaking it slightly. His fingers wrapped around her hand effortlessly. “I’m Lucien, by the way.”

“I’m Elain,” she said and managed to relax a little. She found herself enjoying his company. Lucien was charming, funny, and conversation with him was easy. 

Soon, the turbulences thankfully ceased and flight attendants, the ones Elain had decided to trust after all, began to hand out drinks. Lucien got a bottle of Pinot noir for the two of them after asking if she drank wine. He suggested the alcohol might help her anxiety a little, too. She was always unsure about this, but decided to indulge in it. He made it easy for her. 

They talked about Lucien’s mother and his first meeting with his dad. Elain told him about her nephew and how difficult it was for her to see her family so rarely. Lucien told her about his pet – a twelve-year-old orange cat named Ollie that his brother took care of at the moment. It was natural, the way they talked to each other without taking breaks, and even if there was one, it was comfortable. Elain didn’t feel stressed about keeping the conversation going because she felt like he was in control of it, not in a creepy, dominating way, but rather in a manner that allowed her to relax and lean back. He showed interest in her, which flattered her. She was too scared to ask him where he lived, not wanting to seem too eager. 

Lucien apparently didn’t have those any qualms. 

“This is the weirdest first date I’ve ever had,” he said and laughed, sipping his glass of wine. 

Elain startled at his nonchalant statement, but quickly found she liked his charming boldness. So she asked, “How do you know I’m not with someone right now?” 

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Neither am I,” his smile broadened. This time when she felt a flutter in her stomach, it wasn’t from the airplane, but because of his smile. He looked so relaxed, confident, and content, as if he was lit from inside. It seemed as if his calmness and happiness transferred over to her, dispelling negative feelings. 

“I am visiting. Or, I should say, going home. To see my sister.”

“I am visiting, too,” Lucien said. 

“Thank God,” Elain smiled in return. It meant wherever he came from was not too far away from her current home. Maybe flying wasn’t really that bad after all. At least, she thought, when he was sitting right next to her. 

[odinsblog]

Khartoum, Sudan — Days after Moscow launched its bloody war on Ukraine, a Russian cargo plane stood on a Khartoum runway, a strip of tarmac surrounded by red-orange sand. The aircraft’s manifest stated it was loaded with cookies. Sudan rarely, if ever, exports cookies.

A heated debate transpired between officials in a back office of Khartoum International Airport. They feared that inspecting the plane would vex the country’s increasingly pro-Russian military leadership. Multiple previous attempts to intercept suspicious Russian carriers had been stopped. Ultimately, however, the officials decided to board the plane.

Inside the hold, colorful boxes of cookies stretched out before them. Hidden just beneath were wooden crates of Sudan’s most precious resource. Gold. Roughly one ton of it.

This incident in February – recounted by multiple official Sudanese sources to CNN – is one of at least 16 known Russian gold smuggling flights out of Sudan, Africa’s third largest producer of the precious metal, over the last year and a half.

CNN reporter confronts staff at alleged Russian operation in Sudan

Multiple interviews with high-level Sudanese and US officials and troves of documents reviewed by CNN paint a picture of an elaborate Russian scheme to plunder Sudan’s riches in a bid to fortify Russia against increasingly robust Western sanctions and to buttress Moscow’s war effort in Ukraine.

The evidence also suggests that Russia has colluded with Sudan’s beleaguered military leadership, enabling billions of dollars in gold to bypass the Sudanese state and to deprive the poverty-stricken country of hundreds of millions in state revenue.

In exchange, Russia has lent powerful political and military backing to Sudan’s increasingly unpopular military leadership as it violently quashes the country’s pro-democracy movement.

Former and current US officials told CNN that Russia actively supported Sudan’s 2021 military coup which overthrew a transitional civilian government, dealing a devastating blow to the Sudanese pro-democracy movement that had toppled President Omar al-Bashir two years earlier.

“We’ve long known Russia is exploiting Sudan’s natural resources,” one former US official familiar with the matter told CNN. “In order to maintain access to those resources Russia encouraged the military coup.”

“As the rest of the world closed in on [Russia], they have a lot to gain from this relationship with Sudan’s generals and from helping the generals remain in power,” the former official added. “That ‘help’ runs the gamut from training and intelligence support to jointly benefiting from Sudan’s stolen gold.”

(continue reading)

[suspensefulpen]

Transport

TW: Human Trafficking, Drugged Whumpee, Multiple Whumpers, Sadistic Whumpers

inspired by this post by @cepheusgalaxy

Should be under enough anesthesia to last your whole trip. Should be enough time for you to settle the package in before consciousness is regained. Money should be given to the driver. 

Whumper One smiled at the message as a large truck backed into the warehouse. He couldn’t help but feel excited about it. He quickly motioned his henchmen to help unload the precious cargo. He frowned when they grabbed the box, yanking on it. “Make sure you are gentle with it. We don’t need any accidents. This is a diamond we’re carrying here!” The henchmen moved the package more carefully, placing it inside Whumper One’s limo. 

“Wait, wait, wait, open it up, I wanna see.” A wicked grin crossed his features as the crate was opened, revealing the unconscious Whumpee. He almost wanted to giggle like a schoolgirl after seeing such an angelic face. He motioned the henchmen to close it as he handed the truck’s driver a briefcase. “My highest gratitude to your boss.” The driver nodded before pulling away. 

Whumper One was about to climb into the limo when he heard two new sets of footsteps coming nearby. He turned around, his henchman raising their guard. The newcomers grinned. 

“Relax, Whumper One. We just saw that you were at the warehouse and wanted to have a peek at what you’re up to.” Whumper Two said. 

“I take it you have something to share with us after seeing that truck pull away.” Whumper Three hummed. “What was in that crate?” 

“Just a couple of things from a friend.” 

Whumper Two and Three frowned, sharing a look. “We know you’re lying.” 

“Because we know the type of buyer you are.” A new voice said from afar. 

Whumper Three frowned. “Carewhumper?! Who invited her?!” 

“I don’t need an invitation.” Carewhumper frowned back as she stepped closer. “Whumper One’s got something pretty in that crate he doesn’t want us to know about. You care to explain?” 

He huffed and forced a smile. “Listen, friends, I don’t want to start anything—” 

“You already have.” Whumper Two smiled. The three all stepped closer. “What’s in the crate, Whumper One?” 

“Supplies. I needed them.” 

“Why have them sent here if you don’t want to share them?” Carewhumper asked. 

“I will.” He spoke without thinking. “If you all give me a chance to sift through it, I’ll bring it back to the warehouse and you guys can take what you want.” He raised his brows. “Deal?” 

The other three shared looks, silently discussing their decision. “Alright. You bring it tomorrow evening. If anything looks suspicious…” 

“You’ll have my head. I know. I'll get through it as soon as possible. There’s a lot of tools inside.” Whumper One nodded to them before climbing inside the limo with the crate. He peeked over his shoulder at his driver. “Step on it once we’re out the gates. Make sure they’re not within sight.” 

Whumper Two, Three and Carewhumper watched as the limo drove off. 

“He’s lying.” Carewhumper said. 

“Like hell.” Whumper Three frowned. “Forget waiting until tomorrow. I want to see tonight. I say we follow him.” 

“No. We give it time.” Whumper Two said. 

“Give it time? And let him have whatever is in that crate? Hell no! We’re gonna get what’s in that crate. Whether he wants us to or not.” Whumper Three walked to his own car. 

Carewhumper nodded, doing the same. “Agreed.” 

[lackadaisy-headcanon-supply-unit]

Hi👋♡.

May I request one-shots Serafine Savoy and Nico Savoy with teen fem!Reader (Platonic) the Reader is a delivery girl she helps them all the time and of course they have to get her something for her hard work she do for them.

[ money maybe?]

{Love your blog by the way♡}.

Don't know how this turned into a spin-off, cat episode of something that feels straight out of Peaky Blinders, but here you go!

Get a job, Mother said. The world is changing and girls need to pull their weight, just how I did during the Great War.

However, when Y/N finally got one of course she wasn't too happy.

"An unpaid delivery girl? You could have aimed slightly higher, especially with that mind of yours."

Well, perhaps she wouldn't have been so picky if she realized her daughter didn't have much of a choice in the matter. No one accidentally ran into a criminals hunting ground and got out completely unscathed, in reputation or otherwise. Her own price to pay was becoming an uncompensated errand girl for a couple of no good kitties with sharp gazes, smiles and knives. A lot of knives, and guns too.

The option to refuse wasn't really on the table. That was a couple of months ago now.

Maybe Y/N should have realized sooner something about her job was shadier than she first thought. At first there seem to be nothing amiss. Y/N was asked to post letters, carry tattered and lightly but suspiciously stained clothes to and from the tailors. Small things she had no problem doing for free. They weren't too out of the way either; most of the shops and post boxes were on her way to school.

Her suspicions only really started when she was sent to pick up a suspicious-looking package from a derelict riverside cafe. It was just the one, and she delivered it without a hitch. Looking back she probably should have failed to do so; it would have certainly avoided the fear and stress that came when she was sent on a similar errand the week after.

Then it became every three days and sometimes even twice in one.

Mother was right: Y/N had a good head on her shoulders. She didn't need to peek into the boxes to know what she was carrying was less than legal. She was also well aware that if anything happened to the cargo inside she'd be dead, but she was also smart enough to know she could hand it over to the cops at any time. Who knows, she could end up taking down a major crime ring in St. Louis. She could become a hero!

Or…

She could beat her generously-loaded employers at their own game.

Y/N burst into the hotel suite, waving the letter high in her hand. "Delivery!"

The cloud of smoke hanging around the divans parted, and a carefully manicured, clawed hand beckoned her closer. "Merci, now give it here, cher."

For once, Y/N stayed put. "No."

"No?" The hand cleared the rest of the fog, and Miss Savoy's amber eye watched her, widening.

Those stares didn't scare Y/N anymore, not after working for them for months. She even took a step back. "No."

"Elle se prend pour qui?" Miss Savoy's brother growled, raising himself up from his seat. His cigarette hung limply from the corner of his mouth.

"Nico, laisse-la," Miss Savoy tutted. "Elle a du culot, c'est presque impressionnant."

"I'd like it if you didn't talk behind my back," Y/N bit out.

"And we'd like it if you hand over the letter like the good girl we know you can be."

Again, Y/N held it out of reach. "And I'd like to be compensated."

"Your compensation is us not killin' you for messin' up our gig," Nico pointed out.

"You gangstas might want to think of marking your territory better so a teenager doesn't fuck you up."

"She swears too."

They seemed almost surprised. Y/N decided to skip the rest of the pleasantries.

"Money."

"What?"

"I want money."

Nico and Serafine looked at each other. Then, he smirked. She grinned. They both fell about laughing, leaving a confused Y/N to ping-pong between them and scowl.

"What's so funny?"

They only replied to each other in quick snippets of French she couldn't understand.

"What is it?" she repeated.

"T'as perdu, c'est toi qui paye," Serafine smirked to her brother, again ignoring Y/N's questions.

Nico rolled his eyes and rummaged around in a nearby tin. "Bien joué…"

He held out a wad of cash—and by god it was more than she had ever seen in her life! He was essentially offering her her own small fortune, most of it likely made of blood money.

She didn't take it right away. "What's all this about?"

Nico shook the money in front of her eyes. "Bettin' to see how long it'd take you to man up and ask."

Y/N was dumbfounded. "Ask?"

"For payment."

So, they were saying everything she had done for free, every risk and every broken law…

"All I had to do was ask?!"

Nico cracked a sickening grin. "Yes, cher."

Yes. That was all he said, the only confirmation. She wanted to scream, she wanted to shout, she wanted to take that rifle off the wall and—

She snatched up the money with a frown, shooting daggers from her eyes. She handed over the letter. "I hate you both."

Nico's grin softened. "Hate you too," he said with no real conviction or the previous bit she knew he could give.

Almost as if he was trying to be her friend.

They could try all they liked, but they wouldn't get far.

Not now.

[anony-man]

Chubformers drabble #63!

Character: Misfire (IDW)

Word count: 458

As of late, missing targets wasn’t the only thing Misfire had been guilty of.

Misfire wobbled on one pede, his other pede kicking at the air to shut the pantry behind him. With arms full of snacks, he hardly had the room to sacrifice. The base was dark and cluttered, leaving Misfire to tiptoe his way past piles of empty boxes and discarded tools.

Sneaking around for food to satisfy his voracious appetite in the middle of the night wasn’t ideal, but Misfire had been getting desperate. There was little in the world that could keep his attention like snacking did, and oh, how it had helped him lately. Fellow Scavengers balked at his sudden spike in productivity, and Misfire could do nothing but beam at the praise.

That was, until recently. Apparently hoarding the shared rations of his team wasn’t a good long term solution. The ability to remain on task with a bowl of snacks at his disposal was nice, but… well, the consequences weren’t.

As far as he could tell, Misfire had flown under the radar. Sticking to his hard stance of “who knows?” had saved him quite a bit of grief, but it also meant being more careful—and being less indulgent. He would have been lying if he said his recently picked up habit hadn’t costed him his slim waistline and stamina, but the joy of finally living life to the fullest was worth the added weight he’d been putting on.

As time passed, however, Misfire could tell the rest of the Scavengers were getting suspicious. It was hard to hide an increasing spike in the depletion of their rations, after all, and there was only so much Misfire could do to hide the pudge growing on his frame. He stuck to it, though, and rather than continue with empty accusations thrown at other Scavengers, Misfire mixed things up.

Sneaking around at night in search of food sucked aft, but he was running out of ideas.

Misfire crept his way through the lounge, taking care not to bump his hip into the rickety pile of human films stacked atop an old side table or slip on a suspicious puddle leading to the washracks. He was so close to making it back to his quarters, and all he had to do was—

Suddenly, the dark halls were awash with light. At first Misfire merely flinched, hiding blinded optics behind the armfuls of snacks, but a quick glimpse at the figure standing in front of him, blocking his path, had him thinking otherwise.

“Krok!” Misfire yelped, nearly spilling his precious cargo all over the floor. “I, ah… heh. You’re up early. Care for an oil cake?”

Slag it all, he was totally busted.

[whiteravengreywolf]

Fury to end All Furies - a Wolfwren fanfiction

A/N: Hello everyone! Here is a new addition to the Ahsoka season 2 and Beyond series, about a mission gone wrong and featuring a special guest! Here is an extract and you can find the link to the first part of two at the end!

When darkness fell over the city, Shin left their hotel room and took a turn of the neighborhood. Sabine was on the rooftop of their hotel to watch the sky. The second moon was on the rise already. If their intel were correct, then the cargo would leave the city when the third moon rose. That mysterious cargo had been tracked by New Republic spies over multiple planets. It was changed location often. Hera suspected their owner was onto them and wouldn’t bring it home. She was done playing games. She wanted the cargo taken and its smugglers captured. If it contained weapons, just as she suspected, it might take them one step closer to dismantling another remnant of the Empire.

Shin kept her hood up as she slithered through the crowd. Workers enjoying a drink after a hard day in the mines. Regulars already half a drink away from sleep. Young people going to the neon bathed clubs. She walked past them like a ghost, gaze scanning for anything suspicious. So far, nothing. She walked toward the shipyard, where small shuttles were being refurbished for new service.

“No sign of trouble yet,” she said.

“Want to get a drink afterward?” Sabine suggested.

“Mission first.”

“Of course. We can celebrate after.”

Sabine’s voice was low. It sent shivers to the base of Shin’s spine, unravelling her focus.

“After,” Shin replied, like a promise.

She heard the faint sound of a grappling firing and knew Sabine had changed location, moving closer to the shipyard. The rest of the crowd was none the wiser. Ahead, someone inserted coins into a music box and drumbeats flooded the street. Shin walked past and down a set of stairs. The shipyard was in sight.

“I see something,” Sabine said.

Shin stopped around a dim corner, the streetlight above pale with age.

“Define something.”

“Movement.”

Shin pushed herself away from the wall and walked faster toward the shipyard. Music lingered behind her. Now that the workday was over, the path to the shipyard was empty.

“This isn’t good.”

Shin picked up speed.

“What are you seeing?”

“They’re moving the cargo already. Toward a small ship. I thought the third moon didn’t rise for another hour.”

Full Story Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53598448/chapters/135676210

[wellsbering]

i really wish i could have gotten my grandpa to write an autobiography (or even funnier, start a podcast) because every time i visited him he had a new wild story about his life such as:

- during wwii (he was 8 when it ended), he and his friend would walk to a factory where the military police had put german POWs to work making stuff for the US war effort, and stand outside and make fun of them. the nazis were on the second floor but there was this little gap in the window for ventilation and my grandpa and his friend would just stand underneath it and taunt them until one day one of the nazis got annoyed and threw some little piece of metal at my grandpa and it nearly hit his ear, so he joked that he could've gotten a purple heart if it hit him

- he went to catholic school in the era where teachers were still allowed to hit the students when they got in trouble, which he did A Lot. the nuns would hold out their hand and tell the student to place their hand there and then hit the student with a ruler. one time my grandpa moved his hands away quickly enough for the nun to slap her own hand, which did not go over well with her (but it did with the rest of the class)

- when there was a baseball game downtown he and his friends would volunteer as batboys to make some extra cash and meet the players. apparently mickey mantle was an asshole

- shortly after wwii, he knew someone (a neighbor or a relative, i can't remember) who had served in italy and fell in love with a woman there, but since he didn't know italian, he would bring her letters to my grandpa's mom so she could translate. she said she wanted to come to america and marry him, but she needed money, so he sent over the money. then she wrote back that her mother wanted to come too, so he sent more money. finally when she said oh thank you but HER mother wants to come too my grandpa's family was like my guy. this girl is scamming you please stop sending her money

- his aunt and grandma went to visit relatives in sicily after the war. sicily, of course, was hit extremely hard by wwii, so there were a lot of food shortages. but while they were there they bought a giant wheel of cheese. it was supposed to be shipped to them in the states on a cargo ship (rather than the passenger ship they returned on), so after they got back they waited like a month for this really great italian cheese to arrive. and when it finally did, they pried open the crate (this was the 40s, so no cardboard boxes, it was all wooden crates that were nailed shut) and instead of cheese, there was just a pile of sawdust. someone stole the cheese and replaced it with sawdust so the dock workers would think it was still in there

- speaking of ill-fated shipments from sicily, at some point after his grandparents arrived in the states (c. 1915?) their family mailed them an olive sapling to plant at their new home. unfortunately it turned out that american midwestern winters are very bad for olive trees. they did not get a single olive from it

- he once decided to dye a sweater blue using a big pot & spoon his family regularly used for cooking, and he thought he'd rinsed out the dye, but when his family sat down for dinner that night they were greeted by the sight of blue mashed potatoes. his parents were dumbstruck. his brother adamantly refused to eat the cursed potatoes. my grandpa might've gotten away with it except that the rest of the table got extremely suspicious when he just started eating the blue potatoes like nothing was wrong

- he had a friend who knew danny thomas's (of st. jude's hospital, marlo thomas's dad, and the best joke on the golden girls fame) brother, who had a problem with gambling and alcohol and kept asking danny for money (since he was. you know. rich and famous). at some point this dude went to his brother's house, asked to see him, and the maid/housekeeper/whoever opened the door recognized him and just shut the door in face bc she was tired of him asking for money

- as a kid he would go to his grandparents' house and stomp on grapes in the basement to make wine. apparently they were just so used to always having wine in italy (even the kids had wine at dinner) that, even when my grandpa's mom was a kid during prohibition, the family just kept making wine in the basement. once their neighbor asked for some, they gave it to him, and then shortly afterwards the cops showed up and went down in the basement and smashed up all the equipment. in response, my grandpa's grandparents simply bought new equipment and went back to making wine again (and presumably, this time, did not tell their neighbors)

- his relatives owned an italian restaurant in toledo and when louis prima stopped there on tour, my grandma (who did not work in the restaurant, and in fact was not even italian) made him spaghetti and got free tickets to his show

- paul lynde also came to the restaurant once (or maybe it was a different one? there were two italian restaurants) and was a dick

- he once walked into the bathroom at his high school and there was a whole doo-wop group rehearsing in there. no word on if they sounded good or not

- he once traded in his old car (a ford with no paint on it, just metal that he polished with steel wool, and with an oldsmobile engine instead of the original) at a ford dealership, got home, and then got a call the next day from the dealership owner who was mad they couldn't sell the car. since. it had an oldsmobile engine and no paint. my grandpa was just kinda like. ok. what do you want me to do about it lmao we already signed all the papers, it's legally yours now. sorry! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- he was in the printers' union for decades and at one point the union workers were getting so overworked by the union leadership that they threatened to form their own union within a union. my grandpa gave a talk at their national meeting to try to get both sides to reconcile, which he summarized to me as basically "come on guys. this is stupid"

- part of his role in the union was negotiating on behalf of workers during disputes with their employer. he once had to stop a business owner from unjustly firing his own son

- another time some secretaries were threatening to strike because their boss was so awful, and upon finding out that the boss tried to coerce one of the women to sleep with him, my grandpa stormed up to him and threatened to physically fight him

- after he retired he was out playing golf or shooting guns or something with some guy who kept talking about how annoying and useless unions are, and when they got back to their cars he complimented my grandpa's car and he responded "thanks. i bought it with my Union Pension :)"

- when i was a little kid he had a red corvette for a year or so. i found out years later that it had every possible added feature a 1999 corvette could have, because the original owner was really rich. the reason he was rich was because he was none other than pasquale "pat" giammarco, the founder of marco's pizza

[aspiringnexu]

Has there ever been a vampire story in Star Trek? Because it occurred to me just how interesting an episode that would be.

Picture, the Starfleet vessel is in uncharted space. Everything seems to be going well, exploration as usual, until Odd Things start to crop up. Noises in the middle of the night, things moved or seemingly missing, a few crewmen swear they could feel something watching them.

The ship is searched, prow to stern, and they find nothing.

Turns out the ship has been infiltrated by a highly evolved predator species. One that just so happens to feed on iron-based blood and one who jumped at the chance to sneak aboard. Perhaps it can camouflage itself so well it can hide even from bioscans and tricorders, not sure, either way its terrifyingly stealthy.

Anywho, the episode follows the ship's Vulcan officer, the one whose blood the creature does not find edible, trying to figure out what's happening as crew start to find odd little bite marks on their necks and wrists after a night's sleep that did seemingly nothing to energise them. Of course, the crew immediately start to joke about how the ship must have been secretly renamed The Demeter before they set off. A few of them check the cargo hold for boxes of suspicious dirt. Just in case.

Its all vaguely amusing and somewhat unnerving until the first crewmember is found dead, completely drained of blood, and everyone goes from nervous to panicky because the similarities are building up way too much to be the usual Space Bullshit.

Imagine this as TOS so you too may be graced with the mental image of Jim cradled in the arms of a beautiful, if clearly alien, creature covered in the Captain's own blood, with Spock prepared to defend his t'hy'la with a phaser and a stake whittled from the table leg of the rec room's only real wooden bit of furniture.

[raventroll80]

Stowaway

Chapter 3: Unprofessional Medical Assistance

Em gets caught, Seth gets bit… a lot. Cracks are starting to form as Em comes to terms with the situation and Seth tries to be nice.

Heads up this chapter contains injuries, mild blood, and possible medical malpractice (Seth’s trying and Em is very, very small… and bitey)

Seth had begun to worry as he searched for the little person, he hadn’t seen any sign of them. In fact, he hadn’t even seen any of the other rodents in the cargo bay either.

 “God, I hope they didn’t use any rat poison,” He thought to himself as he slowly moved about the bay, hoping nobody was questioning how long he was taking.

He was about to give up when he heard a quiet snap followed by a not so quiet cry of pain. A pit immediately formed in his stomach as he turned to look at the source of the noise. There between the fallen boxes was the tiny person, a mouse trap pinning them down.

They started whimpering as he picked them up, Seth tried to calm them down as he limped over to a box.

“Hey there little buddy, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said softly as he placed the trap down on a box. He lifted the hammer of the trap and the tiny human scrambled back, he let them crawl off the trap before moving his hand behind them to stop them from falling off the crate.

Carefully he scooped the tiny person up, cupping his hands around them. He could he feel their heartbeat going a mile a minute as the shook in his hands.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m just trying to help you,” He hushed as he tried to comfort the shaking form in his hands. He tried stroking them gently but quickly found that their back was still covered in the peanut butter that was used as bait.

Had they been trying to scrape some off to eat? They must be hungry; I should try and grab them some food on the way out. Seth thought to himself, “I-I’m gonna have to put you in my pocket for a bit, but I’ll take you out once we get back to my room, okay?” He whispered to the injured tiny before depositing them in one of his pockets.

Seth briskly hobbled over to the stairs. As he left the cargo bay, he made sure to pop into the breakroom to grab a bottle of water and a granola bar before leaving. He finished up his report to Dr. Hayden and suggested the tear in the fabric as transport damage and sent the report in. He didn’t want the doctor to ask him a million questions before leaving, as his leg was starting ache again and he could feel the tiny in his pocket starting to struggle more, causing him to gently hold them in place with his hand.

Finally, Seth made it back to his room where he immediately placed the tiny person on his desk before grabbing the first aid kit from the bathroom. In that time the tiny had backed up and was now hiding behind a pencil cup, a fearful scowl was etched across their face as they stared at him as he walked back to the desk.

Seth set the small bag down and the small person flinched away. Seth opened the bag and took out various things as the tiny looked on in suspicion. Seth reached out and gently nudged the small person towards him. They yelped in as Seth brought them closer, confident that he wouldn’t get hurt this time, that was until he was bitten by the small person. Now it was Seth’s turn to yelp as tiny teeth sunk into his finger.

“Ow!” he yelped causing the tiny person to flinch back. He terrible for scaring them as much as he was, “Look, I know you’re scared of me, but I just want to help you,” the scowl had returned to the tiny’s face as he spoke, “Y-you’re hurt, a-and I want to help you, but I can’t do that with if you keep attacking me. I just want to help you, please…” he finished, he was getting frustrated, but he knew better than to help them by force.

The small person looked from Seth, to their legs, to the first aid kit, then back to Seth. They gave him a suspicious look before scooting closer to Seth and rolling up their pant legs, revealing a pair of shin guards. They were thick and a yellowed white colour, but they had been stained red by blood, Seth wasn’t sure if it was theirs or not. The shin guards were badly damaged, presumably taking the brunt of the force from the trap.

“Could you remove those shin guards? I need to see how bad the damage is to your actual leg, please,”

The tiny drew their legs back and undid the shin guards, a soft crickling noise made Seth flinch a little. The tiny winced as they removed the shin guards, some pieces stuck to their legs as they did so, worrying Seth in the process. Once they were off Seth could see that while yes, the shin guards took the brunt of the force from the trap, the tinies legs were still pretty beaten up and bloody. Seth took a cotton swab from the kit and dabbed it in some peroxide and scooted towards the tiny.

“This is probably gonna sting,” Seth warned before he dabbed it on the tinies leg. The tiny hissed in pain as they pulled their leg back. Seth panicked and reached out to the tiny in an attempt to comfort them.

“Don’t touch me!” she hissed at him, recoiling from his attempted touch.

“Sorry!” Seth apologized “Here try and wipe it off,” he said offering her a dry cotton pad which she quickly snatched up.

The tiny wiped their legs off and inspected their wound, picking out bits of the shin guard from it. Once she was done, the tiny tentatively extended her legs out and let Seth wipe the other leg with some more peroxide. The tiny hissed in pain again but refrained from pulling their leg away.

Now that their injuries were clean, Seth was able to see that it wasn’t as bad as it had appeared. As he had suspected the shin guards had protected her legs from most of the damage, but the trap had still left some nasty cuts on their legs.

“Okay so, it looks a bit worse than it actually is, but I still want to put some bandages on them just to be safe,” he explained to her. Seth pulled out a roll of bandages and a pair of scissors, he considered using band-aids but decided not to, worrying that either him or the tiny would struggle to remove them.

The tiny tensed when she saw Seth pull out the scissors, but relaxed a little when he started measuring the bandages. He cut two lengthy strips of bandage from the roll and handed it to her.

“Here, you put them on. It’s clear you don’t like being touched, and I don’t want to make you anymore upset than you already are,” Seth explained as the tiny took the bandages and began wrapping her legs.

Seth watched the tiny as she wrapped her legs, now able to finally get a good look at them while they were occupied. She had had large roundish face with long tangled dark brown hair which matched the fur on her tail. She was rather plump and possessed rather long arms, all in all Seth thought she quite adorable when she wasn’t trying to bite or stab him.

As she wrapped her legs Seth cut her some tape to hold the bandages closed, she took the tape and placed it over the ends of the bandages before pulling her pantlegs down. The two sat in silence for a moment, neither saying a word. The silence was making Seth a bit uncomfortable so he spoke.

“Are you hungry?” the tiny looked away slightly “You probably are, there’s probably not a lot to eat down in the cargo bay,” He continued, opening the granola bar and breaking off a piece for his tiny guest. She eyed him and the food suspiciously before deciding that it was probably safe.

“It’s probably a little stale, I’ll try and find you something a bit more fresh tomorrow though,” he said as he took the water bottle and poured some of it into the lid.

Seth set the lid down next to her before he wheeled his chair over to his bed to grab something. Out of the corner of his eye Seth watched the tiny drink the water before breaking apart the granola chunk and eating some of the oats. She ate and drank rather quickly which concerned Seth. When was the last time she ate? He thought before wheeling back over to his desk.

“You dropped this the other day, I thought you’d probably want them back,” he said handing her the satchel he picked up the other day. The tiny immediately began checking her bag, pulling out various item and putting them back. She pulled out her knife and pulled it out of its sheath and checked it, the tiny made a face before putting it back in its sheath.

“Oh! And I found these in the covered cargo, I assume they also belong to you,” he added digging out the cloak and glider from his pocket.

She immediately snatched the cloak from his hands and wrapped it around herself, when she saw the glider the tiny slumped in defeat. Seth felt bad for her, clearly the glider was important and sticking it in his pocket certainly didn’t help.

“Sorry… about the glider, I-I assume it’s a glider. Uh… maybe I could help you fix it?” Seth stammered, the tiny just shot him a glare before going back to sulking. The two sat there in silence a bit more before the tiny yawned, Seth had to stop himself from cooing at her remembering that she’d probably bite him again if he did.

“Well, it’s getting late, we should probably get some sleep…” Seth yawned as he reached towards her.

Seth hesitated as the tiny curled up into a ball, she was shaking… Seth bit his lip and frowned a little. He felt bad for scaring her, he didn’t mean to but it was hard not to. He was ten maybe even a hundred times her size, how could she not be scared of him. Seth sighed softly before gently scooping her up in his hands and holding her close to his chest, even though it was only a few steps to his bed Seth walked slowly as to not frighten them too much.

He gently set his tiny guest down in the cubby just above his bed before turning back to get her things. Seth placed her things next to her before leaving to get his night clothes on. He took his glasses off and dug out the cleaning cloth from his glasses case and handed it to his tiny guest.

“Here, ship’s heading north it’s gonna get pretty cold at night,” Seth said, “I’ll try and find something warmer before we reach the Arctic Safezone,”

The tiny took the cleaning cloth from him and set up a small sleeping area in the back left corner of the cubby. She removed her cloak and laid it down to keep something between her and the cold metal of the cubby. The tiny hucked her bag into the corner and flopped down with her back to Seth and pulled the “blanket” over herself.

“Oh yeah, I’m Seth by the way, Seth Willems. Thought you’d probably want to know since we’ll be kinda stuck with each other for a bit,”

The tiny didn’t respond.

Seth frowned a little before rolling onto his side and pulling his own blanket over himself. Seth took a few deep breaths, still partially waiting for a response from his guest. A few minutes had past and Seth had rolled onto his back and was now staring up at his ceiling.

“I’m… I’m sorry, sorry for scaring you, sorry that you’re stuck here… you must be terrified. Part of me still doesn’t believe that this is even happening, like any moment now I’ll wake up and this will have been all a stress induced dream or something. I never meant to scare you it’s just… look, what I’m trying to say is that I want to help you, I just hope you’re willing to trust me…”

Em stared at the wall in silence, part of her was angry at herself for getting caught, another was scared beyond belief, but there was one more part of her that believed what this human, Seth, was telling her the truth. She wanted to believe that she could trust this human, but did she really have another option…

The human’s words sounded genuine. He had (mostly) respected her demand to not be touched, and when he had handled her, he had been surprisingly gentle. Maybe, just maybe she could trust this human…

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

Seth woke up the next morning and shut off his alarm. Putting on his glasses, Seth checked the cubby to make sure last night really wasn’t a dream. There in the corner of the cubby was a rather alarmed tiny… he never did get their name; he’d have to ask them later.

“Hey there little buddy, is everything alright? You look scared,” He asked concerned, they seemed pretty calm last night, what happened?

The tiny jumped at the sudden sound, she blinked a few times before responding, “Your alarm… I wasn’t expecting it,”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I should have warned you… is there anything I can do to help you?” Seth apologized.

“I’m good, I just need to breath…” They replied, the fur on their tail began to lower.

“I’m gonna be leaving for my shift soon, I’ll leave the granola bar on the shelf for you in case you get hungry,” The tiny just stared at him before giving him a slight nod before curling back up under her makeshift blanket.

Seth placed the granola bar near his guest and got ready for the day ahead. His leg felt sore as he walked about his room, each step made him wince in pain. Seth took his painkillers and grabbed his PDA and left for the bridge for the morning meeting.

The morning meeting was fairly uneventful despite the Slayer’s unexpected visit the other day, Seth had though that maybe Dr. Hayden would be the one giving out but he wasn’t. In fact, the doctor didn’t really seem to care about what was going on in the meeting and seemed to be more focused on whatever was he seemed to be working on.

Seth was starting to wonder if he’d be place on bed rest as he hadn’t been given any duties yet, but as the rest of the group on the bridge dispersed on of the commanders motioned him over to Dr. Hayden.

“Hello Mr. Willems, I have been… reminded about your injury. Normally you’d be placed on bedrest until your injury has healed… However, I have a job for you. As you know the Slayer has been, less than cooperative with us. So, that is why you’ll be monitoring the Slayer’s position for the foreseeable future.” The doctor said, still focusing on screens in front of him. One of them containing a map of a city and a red dot labeled DM1-5, the dot was moving about the city before disappearing completely.

“Yes Sir,” Seth replied as the cyborg “sighed” in annoyance. Seth found himself stationed at a monitor close to Dr. Hayden on the top floor of the bridge. As he suspected DM1-5 was tracking ID for the Slayer, Seth also remembered reading that it was the artifact ID given to him when the UAC discovered his sarcophagus.

As for the Slayer himself he appeared to be clearing out a smaller gore nest in London. The red dot moved about the ruined city with great speed, though what exactly he was doing Seth wasn’t sure of. While the ARC could now track where the Slayer was, they couldn’t actually see what he was doing. Eventually Lunch time rolled around and it was time for Seth to take his break.

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

Back in Seth’s room Em was at a loss for things to do, she hadn’t brought anything to pass the time mostly because she would have never anticipated getting trapped on a boat… or getting kidnapped by a human. She could detail her maps, but that would only last as long as her pencil bit, she could also start that engraving project with her mask and use her knife, but that would dull her only means of defense. Out of all the things to come out of getting caught, boredom was the last thing Em was expecting.

Em pulled off another chunk of the granola bar and ate it, at least she wasn’t hungry. She briefly contemplated taking apart the bar and sorting the grains and other chunks of food but decided against it, too sticky, gods she hated the stickiness all over her. She still hadn’t cleaned the peanut butter off of her clothes yet, mostly because she hadn’t brought any extra and she didn’t trust the human enough to leave her in the bathroom to clean them, especially without her hook.

The longer she sat and thought about the situation the more upset and angrier she got. She was upset because she allowed this to happen to herself, and how there little to no hope of her escaping let alone getting home. Then there was the anger, the was angry at herself for not fighting harder, for dropping her bag, for even wanting to try and borrow from this gods damned boat. She was angry and had nothing to take her anger out on.

“Maybe I should bite that stupid human,” She muttered to herself, normally she’d wrestle with Nimbus whenever she got worked up, but once again Nimbus wasn’t here, she was probably back home, doing who knows what.

Em sighed, she felt tired, physically and emotionally, she lied down, stared at the wall, and waited for Seth to return.

The rest of Seth’s day was remarkably uneventful, about an hour after Seth returned from his lunch the Slayer just disappeared of the map. He was informed by one of his superiors and Dr. Hayden that it meant that the Slayer had returned to the Fortress to rest and that it was unlikely he’s return for few hours, but it was best to stay alert and continue to monitor, just in case. And continue he did, just staring at a map of earth, large patches of red signifying the remaining Hellgrowth.

Now that the invasion had ended it seemed that the Hellgrowth had ceased its spreading and in some places had even begun to decay. Seth wondered what was causing this sudden decay, was it the loss of connection to Hell, or was it because the Icon of Sin had been killed? He hoped a report would be filled out soon, he found these sorts of things interesting.

 “Hey!” He thought, maybe he could tell the tiny about the Hellgrowth, maybe having a conversation with her might get them to open up. Eventually Dinner rolled around and Seth left for the cafeteria. As he ate his food someone sat down across from Seth.

They were about average height and were fairly muscular, the person was wearing an off-duty uniform for the guards and soldiers aboard the carrier. they looked really happy to see him which confused Seth until they spoke.

“Hey buddy! How’s that leg of yours holding up?” It was Corporal Willhower, it took Seth a second to recognize the man without his armour.

“Oh! Hello Corporal Willhower, I didn’t recognize you for a second. The leg’s holding up pretty well, it’s starting to get a little stiff and walking around makes it sore… but other than that it’s good,” Seth replied, slightly surprised that the Corporal had looked for him today.

“That’s good to hear, oh and you can call me Asher by the way, no need to be formal off-duty,” Asher replied extending his hand out for a shake, of which Seth obliged to.

“Well in that case you can call me Seth,”

The two talked as they ate their dinners, Seth at some point when Willhower wasn’t looking wrapped a part of his “meatloaf” in a napkin and shoved it into his pocket for his little guest. Eventually dinner was eaten and the two went their separate ways for the night. On the way to his room, he took out the meatloaf out of his pocket so he wouldn’t smush it. Seth entered his room and sat on his bed.

“Hey little buddy, I brought you something other than granola,” he softly said as he placed the food on the shelf, but the tiny didn’t react. “Buddy?” he asked quietly, concern growing in his chest. Were they sick? Please be alive…

Seth nudged their small form, the tiny jolted before they bit him on the finger. Seth yelped and yanked his hand back, fear and confusion blanketing his face. The tiny looked furious, their entire body shaking. A small snarl was growing on their face as the fur on their tail stood on end, and in a shaky voice they spoke.

“I said, don’t touch me…”

Seth stared at her, struggling to find words. The tiny stared back, she looked to be on the brink of tears. She slowly continued to back herself into a corner, body still shaking. After what felt like an eternity of silence Seth finally found his voice.

“What’s you’re problem? Clearly something’s wrong, but apparently, you’d rather bite me than tell me what’s wrong?” His words came out a bit harsher than he had wanted and it caused the tiny to flinch. Seth sighed and rubbed his face.

“I-I’m sorry, it’s just…” he sighed again, “Look, I know you don’t like me and you don’t have to, but I’m trying my best to help you but I can’t if you don’t tell me what’s wrong. It’s late, I’m gonna get ready for bed, just… I’m sorry,”

Em sat there, trying to process everything that was happening. She felt bad for attacking Seth and she had worried he’d retaliate but he didn’t, sure he got upset but even then, he apologized. Seth opened the curtain and got into bed, though this time he placed his glasses next to him on the bed. Seth sighed again before turning to face the wall.

While the human drifted off to sleep Em investigated the napkin he had left her. It smelled meaty and warm, peeling off the napkin Em found a large chunk of meat. Em pulled off a piece of the meat chunk and ate it. It was good, Em ate another piece, and then another, she had eaten about five more handfuls before she stopped herself. Seth had given her this and she bit him for it, now she felt even worse for biting him. Em glanced over at Seth who was now fast asleep then back to the meat.

Em grabbed her bag and dug out her knife cut the remaining meat in half. She wrapped the two chunks the napkin which she had separated. Em took the half she’s been eating from and left it next to the granola bar, the other half she left near the case Seth kept his glasses in.

Em walked towards the edge of the shelf and sat down. She watched Seth for a moment, his body rising and falling as he breathed. Em sighed to herself and her tail twitched.

“I’m sorry, I-I’m just… I don’t know, I feel confused, and scared. You’ve been nothing but nice and it feels genuine, but I’m afraid it’s just a ruse, that any moment you’ll gust grab me and not stop squeezing until I stop moving.” She whispered, her voice shaking with fear. “I want to trust you but every single one of my instincts are screaming at me to run. I just want to go home, or to just wake up from this horrible nightmare, but I can’t, because it’s not.” Her voice began to crack and everything she had been keeping bottled up came pouring out.

Em hugged herself tightly as she curled up into herself and cried. She had been keeping everything bottled up over the past few days, trying to prove to herself that she was capable of surviving on her own. But it was too much, she was too overwhelmed by it all, and now it was all coming out.

A sudden feeling of warmth caused Em to jolt and Seth’s hand flinched back. Em looked up at Seth who looked at her with an apologetic look before gently picking her up. Em tensed up as she was brought towards the human, a small whimper forming in her chest.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” Seth whispered as he tired to comfort the small shaking form in his hands. He had been unable to sleep after his outburst at the little person, he still felt horrible for scaring her. He thought maybe closing his eyes would’ve helped but it didn’t, that was when he heard he start talking.

She had gone on about how she was scared, how she wanted to trust him but that she was too afraid. When she had started crying Seth wanted to comfort her but he couldn’t find the words, he had ended up reaching out to try calm her down, not caring if she bit him. She had jumped when he touched her but that wasn’t what frightened him, it was how cold they felt.

Seth had given her an apologetic look before scooping her up, god she was freezing. Now Seth was sat in his bed trying his best to comfort the tiny crying person in his hand, quietly shushing them as he gently rubbed her back with the pad of his thumb.

Em struggled in his grasp but eventually the warmth of Seth’s hands felt so nice and she had begun to feel exhausted from all the crying, and gentle pressure of his hands felt grounding. Slowly Em gave into the weight of sleep and passed out, little did she know what effects this would have on Seth.

When Seth felt the tiny’s heartrate slow down he had started panicking, fearing that something had gone wrong that was until he looked down. Oh, she fell asleep…

He stared at the tiny sleeping form in his hands, his heart melting at the sight. He watched as she nuzzled into his chest, he tailed twitching slightly in her sleep. Man, he wished he knew her name hopefully she’d share it with him sometime soon, it was getting weird to keep calling her the tiny. Seth took a deep breath before he too drifted off to sleep.

When morning rolled around Seth was awoken to the feeling of something or someone struggling between his hands. At some point in the night, he had rolled over but his tiny guest was still gently held against his chest. Slowly he opened his hands the tiny scrambled out of them. They looked at him in confusion and alarm, trying to figure out how and why they had woken up in the hands of a human.

“It’s okay, you’re not in any danger. Last night you… you were having a hard time, I just wanted to help and then you fell asleep, I-I didn’t want to wake you…” Seth explained as he slowly sat up. His words seemed to put the tiny at a slight ease, the fur on her tail returning to its normal fluffiness.

“Oh… you heard…” She said softly as she clutched her tail. She seemed shocked that Seth had heard her despite what she had said being directed at him, or at least he though.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready,” He offered.

“Okay, thank you,”

Seth laid his hand out and she looked at him confused for a moment; Seth was about to explain when the tiny tentatively stepped onto his hand and waited. Seth lifted his hand a little too quickly as the tiny dove for his thumb and held on for dear life. Once his hand stopped moving, she clambered off at lighting speeds, startling Seth.

“Ah, uh… sorry about that, I’ll try and move slower next time,” He apologized as the tiny smoothed down the fur on her tail.

“Try and cup your hands a little next time to, makes it harder to fall off,” she said as she sat down on her cloak turned bedding, still fidgeting with her tail.

“I’m gonna get dressed, I’ll see if I can find or think up something for you to do. Must be pretty dull just sitting here all the time.” Seth mused before closing the curtain and getting dressed.

Em sat there and pondered what the human had said, should she bring up her ideas? Or would it be better to just go with whatever he comes up with. It wasn’t long before the curtains opened again and Seth sat down on the edge of the bed and faced her.

“I’m leaving for the morning meeting, I’ll try and see if I can stop in during my break but no promises,” he said pouring some water into a small paper cup he found in the bathroom cabinet, before getting up to leave.

“Wait,”

Seth paused as he heard the tiny call out. Em took a deep breath to compose herself before continuing.

“Em… my name is Em,”

“Oh, uhh… thank you, it’s uh… nice to meet you Em,” Seth said, fumbling with his words, he honestly had thought she’d never tell him, but she had.

Seth quickly left for the meeting with a warm smile on his face, he was making progress, she was starting to trust him. Maybe, with enough patience, the two could become friends.

[notstinky]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Creamatorium PARTIES: Van (@vanoincidence) & Thea (@notstinky) SUMMARY: Van and Thea get ice cream! A man is there :( CONTENT WARNINGS: Unsanitary tw, Harassment, Body horror

Thea smoothed out the wrinkles in her brown skirt, understanding only at the fifth wipe that it was a pleated skirt and that it wasn’t meant to be smoothed. She’d tried to dress up—not that she really understood what dressing up meant, for her, fashion was a second thought—but all she’d managed to do was a skirt and a sweater. It wasn’t exactly seasonal; what kind of maniac wore a knee-length skirt in the cold parts of autumn? It wasn’t exactly cute; her gray knit sweater was fine and all but it bundled at her stomach, making her look like she had a suspicious bulge. She’d tried to accessorize; all she had was a fake-silver necklace with a crescent moon that made her stomach churn at the sight of. And all this for Van. Van, her friend, who she wanted to look nice for. She smoothed the skirt again, made sure her hat covered her bald head, and cursed under her breath. 

“Hey!” She waved, more aggressive than she’d meant to, when Van popped up over the horizon. It wasn’t that Van was late, it was that Thea had come so early people asked her if she was okay, standing outside of the shop like that. She probably looked like a criminal, nervously bouncing on her heels. Did criminals wear skirts? Well, she was a killer and she wore a skirt; question answered. “Hey, you’re just in time! I just got here,” she lied, palms already coated in a thin layer of sweat. Suddenly it struck her: what did you say to a friend? How are you? You look good? What flavor are you thinking of? Instead, what came out was: “You look flavor, ho.” Thea winced. She gestured at the seasonal flavor—dairy free pumpkin butter chocolate—which was not a flavor combination she thought worked, but was one she was excited to try. “That, um..” She gulped. “You, um, look…” Forget it. She’d already failed. What was the point? 

Van hadn’t really been able to take a lot of things from home before it had gotten all covered in a weird goo, but for some reason, her locker at Sly Slice was stuffed to the brim with a variety of different outfits she didn’t even remember taking from home. It was luck, probably. Probably an action from a few months ago she couldn’t really remember. It didn’t matter, she decided, because at least she had some clothes and didn’t have to wear the same things that Thea had already seen her in. Buying new clothes was certainly on the table, but that was expensive. Maybe borrowing from either Nora or Cass would have worked, too, especially since they’d borrowed enough from her, but it felt wrong– like she was asking too much. Still, as she watched Thea walk up in her pleated skirt and grey sweater, she felt severely underdressed. She wore baggy cargo jeans that had deep pockets, and a baby tee with a pastel frown-y face on it. The hoody she wore had holes in the sleeve, but she figured it’d look like it’d been done on purpose and not because she’d become overly obsessive with picking at the fabric. 

She crossed the distance between them, a nervous smile playing at the corners of her lips as she lifted her own hand in greeting. It was lucky that Dr. Kavanagh had given Thea permission to stay over, but both of them still had things like work and other commitments. Mostly, Van was trying to scrounge up spare PC parts throughout town so that she could start rebuilding the one she’d lost. “Rocky was like, really slow with the delivery trucks this morning, so he asked me for help.” She was weak, and it showed– she could barely lift a box as it was, but somehow had managed to help him anyway. “Sorry I’m uh–” She blinked at Thea’s words before a laugh bubbled in her chest, spilling over between where they stood across from one another. “You look flavor, ho, too.” She wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe it was a Canadian thing. She’d need to look it up later, she decided. Her attention was drawn to the sign that Thea motioned towards before she looked out of the corner of her eye to her friend. Her stomach bubbled with anxiety and she tried her best to push it down. She wasn’t sure why it was there– this was just ice cream with a friend, after all. She swallowed thickly and nodded before her gaze wandered over the additional flavors. Van winced slightly at the sight of the Allgood Death Pit flavor. “The pumpkin one, that looks good– you look good, too. I like your sweater.” Van paused before adding, “and your necklace– it’s cute, it looks um, it looks good on you.” She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, so she stuck them into her pockets. “Should we… go inside?” 

“No….” Thea groaned, face burning as her cheeks erupted in red blotches. “Don’t tell me I look flavor, ho.” She tried to sink into her sweater, praying that the floor would suddenly get hungry and eat her specifically. She thought about running; if Van had a long, tiring shift, she wouldn’t be able to catch her. Then, she’d leave Wicked’s Rest, change her name (again) and reinvent herself as someone that didn’t mix up her words. She rolled the idea over in her head but no matter how desperate she was to escape, her legs rooted her in place and her stomach fluttered with excitement just as much as it twisted with anxiety. They hadn’t even tried anything yet and she already felt nauseous. “I like—um, your cargo jeans. They look like they can hold a lot of stuff. Like, spoons.” God, spoons? Why did she say that? Run, run, run, run— “T-the necklace?” Thea touched it, digging the flesh of her thumb into the crescent moon tip, as if she didn’t remember putting it on. “It, um, it was the first thing I bought when I came to America, actually.” When she’d woken up across the border, was lucky enough to meet an elderly couple that took care of her and discovered that silver ought to help her “condition”; turned out to be fake silver, of course. That was the kind of luck Thea had. 

Thea wanted to say more, her mouth moved around imaginary words, but nothing left. “Yeah,” she squeaked. “Let’s go inside!” She reached for Van’s arm, interlocking them as she had that day with the LEGOs—that day had gone well and she needed all possible good luck right now. It was a spell and it would summon the vibes that followed them that day. At the doctor’s apartment, it wasn’t so terrible—mostly they were working and tired—but outside was a whole new place with whole new problems. “Do you mind sharing? I think it might be best to get a couple of flavors? And then we can rank them!” She smiled and then frowned, brows knitting together. “Or is that stupid? Should we just stick to our own stuff?”

“But you do, you do look flavor ho.” Van was used to being on the other end of teasing, but this felt natural. It felt right. If Thea were actually upset about it though, she’d drop it. She made a mental note to ask her friend what the hell that meant later. She looked down at her pockets and nodded, an appreciative smile pulling at the corners of her lips as Thea commented on her pants. “They can hold spoons, forks, knives– well, not knives. I’m not allowed to have knives.” It was something she still adhered to even though nobody was around anymore to tell her she couldn’t have knives. Maybe it was stupid. Van stuck her hands into her pockets and pulled them to the side to show Thea just how much space was in them. She leaned down slightly (though she didn’t have to go very far) and poked her fingers towards the end of the seam. “See? A lot of space in here, especially for um, spoons and stuff.” Maybe Thea really liked spoons. Her attention shifted back to the way Thea pulled at her necklace, fingers feathering over the dainty chain and emblem. “Really? That’s cool. Welcome to the United States, here’s a moon.” She shrugged, “the moon– she’s gay, right? So I mean, that’s a cool thing to get.” They’d discussed it before, but Van still felt heat rise to the back of her neck at the comment. 

She wasn’t really sure what to do with her hands by then, but Thea had made the move first, arm threading through her own. It brought her back to their LEGO adventure, though it had severely lacked any LEGOs at all. Van fell into the familiarity of it, and fell into a natural step beside Thea, too. “We can definitely share. I could probably eat it all myself, but that doesn’t mean I should.” Too much sugar could give her stomach aches, but hopefully if it were dairy-free, they’d be okay. Van looked over at Thea, her own smile still present on her features. The way Thea seemed worried that maybe she wouldn’t like the suggestion made Van wonder if she’d done something to make her friend believe that was the case. “No, we can! I want to, and I want to rank them all.” She looked towards the menu board, then to the middle aged man that was standing behind the counter with a blank expression on his features. He looked bored out of his mind. “Hi– yeah, we’re lactose intolerant. What do you think would be good? For us, since we can’t have, you know, milk.” She bit the inside of her cheek before shooting Thea a glance out of the corner of her eye. 

Van must have been humoring her and yet, Thea found her fraught nerves temporarily parted. She smiled softly, chewing on her bottom lip. She imagined an army of forks, spoons and knives sitting in Van’s pockets and giggled. “Yes,” she agreed, “the moon’s gay and the ocean is her lover. I mean, what are tides if not, like, the ocean telling the moon that she loves her?” Thea wasn’t a poetic person; there was something there about devotion, yearning, being vast and crushingly deep and pulled by some bright rock in the sky. When Thea thought of love, she pictured moons and oceans, suns and planets—gravity. Her mind was lost, soothed by the current of Van’s voice—agreeing with her—and she didn’t notice the man. At once, though, she smelt him; sourness plunged into her nostrils and she recoiled. 

He opened his mouth, revealing a set of yellowing teeth framed by plaque. His bloodshot eyes didn’t focus on them at first, his gaze shifted between spots on the wall before it settled exactly on the point where Thea and Van’s arms met. And that, more than anything, made him smile wider as the rest of his face remained dead around it. “What can I get you two…” His tongue traced the edge of his dry lips, saliva pooled between the cracks. “...lovely ladies?” He held on to the syllables as if he didn’t want the words to go. His gaze remained low. 

Thea stiffened. She pulled forward, setting more distance between Van and the counter as if something--or someone--could leap across and touch her. Her voice rose into a rare, authoritative steadiness. “All of the dairy-free flavors, please. A kid’s scoop of each in cups, please.” With her body clenched into one solid mass, she watched as he ran a hand through his graying, slicked hair before he plunged his arm into the vats of ice cream. 

His eyes finally flicked up to their faces and there was something more amusing there than their arms, his dead smile twitched. “Yeah, good choice.” He licked his lips again. “A lot of you people are lactose intolerant.” 

“Most people are lactose intolerant, yeah,” Thea said, tearing her eyes away from the ice cream stuck to his arm hairs and pulling Van towards the register. “My treat,” she whispered to her friend, forcing a small smile. The presence of the man was overwhelming to her, and even as her gaze trained somewhere else, he loomed as large, white stain in the corner of her eyes. The air felt tight; unpleasant interactions weren’t uncommon, but they always made her stomach settle into a heavy knot. She was determined not to let it ruin their fun and once they were sitting down, he couldn’t bother them anyway. “I think I’m realizing now that that’s a lot of ice cream.” Dairy-free also included sorbets, which wasn’t technically ice cream, but Thea wasn’t going to argue semantics over dessert. 

Thea had given Van a lot to think about. In most fandom spaces, people made personifications of the moon and ocean and how it related back to their favorite form of media, so she knew that Thea was on the right track with that. Silently, she started to build out who she thought was the moon and who was the ocean— then, of course, there was the sun. The sun could’ve been seen as something in opposition to the moon, Van thought. Briefly, Van heard her grandmother’s voice, if you gave as much thought to anything else as you do those video games, I wouldn’t worry so much. Van frowned, but it was only for a brief moment. The man behind the counter who she really hadn’t paid all that much attention to brought her back to the present. 

It was an unfortunate setting, she realized. It took everything in her not to recoil as she finally took him in. Van pressed her arm into Thea’s, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise. The man In front of her incited the same feeling Debbie had, only in place of a knife and threats was an ice cream scoop and thinly veiled insults. She didn’t like the way that he looked at them, and it was obvious that Thea didn’t either. Van wasn’t much for noticing changes in demeanor, but the way Thea went stiff next to her couldn’t have been a good sign. Thea provided the order they had agreed upon, voice steady and even, unlike it had been outside of the shop. Van wondered what changed. She cast a careful glance to the man behind the counter who, if a gust of wind blew in, looked like he might crumple beneath the weight of it. 

Van worked in food service, and she knew it was wrong to touch any part of yourself before distributing the goods, as Rocky put it. Sure, it was his hair, but if she found a single strand in her ice cream, she was going to be pissed. She noticed the lack of gloves, too, which wasn’t the only thing to make her stomach jolt in protest at the thought of eating it. She didn’t want to judge, not based on looks alone, but the next words that came out of his mouth made her bite down on her cheek hard enough to draw blood. 

Before she could say anything, Thea was stealing the words right out of her mouth. Van held onto Thea’s arm as if some kind of lifeline, following her to the register. “Are you sure?” Van asked, barely above a whisper. She looked towards the man as he filled another cup. Van hated that this man was serving them, hated that he was making Thea feel uncomfortable, and even though he was making her feel uncomfortable, too, Thea mattered most here. The topic of it being too much ice cream made Van shake her head. “We can make room in the freezer.” She cleared her throat. “And it’s not my fault I’m lactose intolerant, by the way. I was literally born this way.” 

The man lifted his gaze to them again and Van felt dumb for talking loud enough for him to hear. Almost immediately, he was turning his attention back to the ice cream, filling the cups they had requested. “We can um, go halfsies?” Van bumped Thea lightly, a forced smile curling at the corners of her lips. She wouldn’t let this nasty guy ruin this for her. She and Thea were supposed to be having fun, not be grossed out by some hairy man behind the counter of somewhere they wanted to order from. 

She hadn’t noticed it, but the cups had been slid to the register’s stainless steel countertop and the man cleared his throat. “We don’t do splits here. It’s all or nothing.” The yellow of his teeth was even more apparent up close, especially as he leaned closer to them. She could smell sugar and cigarettes and it made her stomach roll. Van took a small step back, tugging Thea slightly with her. “I’ll pay you back later.” She just wanted out at this point. 

Thea felt like she’d been dealing with strange, uncomfortable men all her life. Some of that was just the experience of living, most of it was the experience of living in her feminine body, with her feminine presenting ways. It was her father that taught her the fear at first: never be alone with a man, never speak to one, her father made her stay on the phone with him when she walked home from school. Everyday, as Toronto’s primary news station CP24 whispered in the background of their crumbling home, he’d shake his head at all the crime, pointing it out to her. See, look, see, this is why I worry, this is why it isn’t safe, listen to me--he never said it out loud, but Thea knew by then how to read his frowns. She learned to fear mundane things: smiles, nights, buses, alleys, parties, malls, homes. 

But as she grew older, that was just the issue. It was hard to explain why this man bothered her; what had he really done so far other than scoop some ice cream? Wasn’t she being ridiculous? Wasn’t she overly sensitive? And if he did something, if--well, didn’t she get a ‘vibe’ from him? Why didn’t she notice sooner? Why didn’t she leave? Why didn’t she say something? Thea knew all too well the uphill battle of safety. There was an odd comfort in knowing Van was tense beside her, that she understood and felt the same. She wasn’t being sensitive, sometimes people really were just like this. They’d be okay. They had each other. Thea would make sure they were okay, she’d send him away if she had to; she’d make a scene, she’d kick, she’d scream, she’d throw ice cream back at his unkempt, wrinkly face. 

He placed the cups of ice cream on the counter, licking his lips as he tapped the total into his computer. Thea paid before he could ask her about it. She wanted to cut him off, cancel his presence out, crop him out of their day. “Do you need help with--” He started. “No,” Thea answered back quickly, nudging Van to help with the cups. She could practically hear his thoughts, watching his face crinkle from the corner of her gaze: prickly, I was just trying to help, damn okay, bitch. Her insides burned. “How about the booth in the corner?” She forced a smile, scurrying off before she knew it was okay.

She set the cups down in a rush, hands trembling. She wasn’t scared, actually, Thea noticed she felt strangely hungry. Her teeth itched; she felt like biting into a rare steak. She threw herself into the corner, digging into the chocolate fudge--surprisingly creamy for dairy-free. 

“So, are you two on a date?” The man appeared at their table, sticking his ice cream fingers into his mouth, saliva dripping from his cracked lips. He grinned like something was funny. This time, his attention was focused on Van. 

The transaction was complete and Van nearly let out a sigh of relief. She was used to picking up multiple items– she did it at work all the time. With several of the cups now in her grip, she retreated to the table that Thea had picked out. A part of her wished they could find somewhere else to eat it, but the idea of wandering through the streets with copious amounts of ice cream seemed more of a hazard than anything. Then again, this might turn into a hazard. 

Lost in thought, Van set the cups down and looked over her shoulder. She heard the small tap of Thea’s cups hitting the table in unison, and she pulled her attention back to her company. It didn’t seem like Thea was alright. Van’s stomach rolled again, frustration peeling over her. She wished this was different– that there was a girl their age behind the counter. They’d talk about their favorite flavors, maybe talk about the ones they didn’t like, too, and Van and Thea would laugh and they’d tell her that they’d enjoy even the ones they didn’t like, because that’s what you did to be polite, even if Van had a hard time with that. And then they’d leave, but Van would scrounge some change for the tip jar, and they’d talk about how nice that girl was on their way back to Dr. Kavanagh’s. Instead, they were left with this– a man who spoke without being spoken to, venom seeping through each and every word. 

Van followed Thea’s movements, taking the seat opposite her, but sitting in the middle, just in case he decided to join them. She slouched slightly, kicking one foot onto the other seat. It barely worked, her legs were too short, but maybe it’d still deter him from wandering over. These were made up situations, she realized, but better to be prepared. 

His question wrung out through the silence and Van gripped the mini spoon tightly. She looked from Thea back over to the man who’s smirk made her want to scream. She wasn’t offended by the question– if it had come from anyone else, then maybe it’d even spark excitement. Fear, too, for the sake of being worried of ever being within proximity of someone like that again, but excitement all the same. Instead, it was replaced by a certain kind of anger, the kind you saw in magazines where adults tried to mimic teenage angst. She wasn’t angry at the question, but that it was coming from him. 

Her mouth moved quicker than her mind, “yes, we are, and we’re trying to enjoy it.” Maybe a little too forward. The man’s smirk grew and he raised his hands defensively, “I was just asking, you don’t need to be so…” He didn’t finish his sentence, but she knew what he wanted to say. Van quickly scooped a bite of the strawberry shortcake into her mouth, focusing on the way it was cold on her tongue. If she could ground herself, then it would be okay. If she could focus on this. 

But the man was moving, a mop in one hand, the creaky bucket in the other. He approached them, just a few feet shy of their table. The sound of the mop, wet on the ground, made Van tense. The metal of it scraped against the tile and Van lifted her gaze up to meet Thea’s, silently asking if they should leave. There were other ice cream places, and if they were closed, they could go to the stupid grocery store. Not the one they killed Debbie in, but another one. 

She hated him. She hated him. She hated him. Thea chewed at empty air, full of the fantasy of his flesh under her teeth. The cup was crushed in her tight grip, chocolate fudge spilled over her hand. It wasn’t fair, she told herself. All she wanted was a nice day for them, her brain was eager to remind her. Why did he have to be here? Why did he have to be like this? What if he wasn’t? What if he was gone? Thea’s stomach groaned. Her vision, blackened around the sides, focused only on him. She could smell the sourness of his clothes, the staleness of his breath, the oils in his hair, the sweat pooled in his shoes.

“Yes, we are, and…” Van’s voice cut across the room like one crashing wave; Thea perked up. “We are?” She repeated, blinking rapidly at her friend. In an instant, the man was gone from her senses. Hunger dissolved from her body and instead, it twinkled like a star in the sky, fluttering inside of her. “We—I mean…” Was it a date? Or was that the sort of thing said just to get him off their backs? It was casual; maybe it didn’t mean anything. Did she want it to mean anything? Surely not, her ability to not eat people was a work in progress. But her body had a story of its own: at the idea, she smiled shyly, cheeks flushed with nervous glee. “Not that I—I’m not, like, opposed—I just…” Her brain fired off in every conceivable direction; thoughts tripped over themselves, collided like asteroids, burst open like stars. Thea’s body had, in that instant, relaxed. 

Then she heard it: the soft exhale of breath, the little laugh meant just for him. He chuckled. He chuckled at them. Thea’s attention snapped to him again, hunger roiling in her stomach once more. She dropped the crushed ice cream cup onto the table, leaning over the edge to look at him. Tiny smirk. Head turned to their table. Useless circles with his mop. He was listening in. They were his entertainment for the working day. It was innocent enough—didn’t she do the same during her shifts?—but Thea found herself incapable of generous readings. It happened to her like it always did, inside her abdomen. It felt like a period cramp gone wrong, a strangely common experience twisted with hunger; pain seared across her body. Thea stumbled to her feet. “Washroom,” she blurted, clutching her stomach; though it wasn’t clutching so much as clawing at. She rushed past the man, knocking over his bucket—“Hey!”—and threw herself into the single person washroom, having just enough sense left to lock to the door behind her. 

Her bones snapped and she fell to the tiled floor, drooling through the pain of it. Thea tried to hold herself together; she found that these transformations, the kind that happened outside of full moons, could be stopped. Never mind that she’d never really stopped one before; she only knew that if her thoughts were happy enough, she could feel parts of her body reverting. She held herself around the stomach and forced her thoughts to be of ice cream, Van, opossums, stars, the moon, the ocean at night, Van. But for every thought about her friend, the manna tiny smirk flickered through her head. For every thought about the things she liked, she realized how hungry she was—ravenous. Her skin peeled off her in ribbons, revealing blood soaked white fur. Her jaw vibrated with pain as it grew—broke and rebuilt itself; her new bloody gums itched; her sharp teeth throbbed. Thea stumbled to her feet and ran to the mirror wherein she saw her nose cracked in three places, peeling off her face. Her eyes, bloodshot, changing color, could hardly focus; everything was a blur of white and red. 

“Yes, we are…” She clung to the sound of Van’s voice and the fluttering happiness it had given her. Yes, we are, she repeated in her head. Yes, we are. Date. Date. She placed her hands around the sink and it snapped off the wall, smashing against the tile. Yes, we are. Thea and the wolf stumbled around the bathroom, debating the issue amongst themselves. Yes, we are. Date. But wasn’t she afraid? Wasn’t that her friend? What did she have to be happy about? Yes, we are. The joy of being wanted—romantically or not, it didn’t matter to her—crashed against her anger, shame, fear, hunger; two opposing oceans with two violent currents. She reminded herself that somewhere out there, with a lot of ice cream, was her friend, Van. Yes, we are. 

In another setting, maybe Van caught Thea’s expression. Maybe she saw the look of joy, and maybe Van could smile too, could fill herself in the brightness of it– could feel it bursting from the seams. Instead, she sat in the cold booth with the man and his gap-toothed grin, yellowing and brittle. She stared at him, challenging the next comment out of his mouth. Anxiety spun like a thread through her, tongue coated in iron. She felt her fingers begin to tremble around the spoon she held, thumb denting the fragile plastic. 

The questions that split between them were lost on Van. Her mind couldn’t keep up. Between the anger she felt and the way her stomach was doing somersaults, it was all too much. However, Thea’s sudden movement– a cup dropped, chocolate splattering over the table, made Van realign her gaze. She watched as Thea got out from the booth and she immediately dropped her leg, arching forward as if to follow her. Half of her wanted to catch Thea’s wrist, but she wasn’t sure if it was out of selfish intent or not– don’t leave me here with him. Instead, she watched Thea retreat into the bathroom. She jumped as the door slammed and Van looked back to the table, grabbing a few napkins to begin cleaning up the chocolate-y mess. “Seems your friend really is lactose intolerant.” Van opened her mouth, the snapped it closed again. 

The noises from within the bathroom were animalistic in nature, and all Van wanted to do was cover her ears, at least for the sake of giving Thea minimal privacy. But then it dawned on her– the man had intentionally given them ice cream with dairy. It was their fault for not checking, wasn’t it? Van’s fault for not being eagle-eyed, for not watching his every movement. It sounded like something broke inside of the bathroom, and suddenly there was the sound of running water– or rather, spraying. Glass shattered and Van shot up from the booth. The man with the mop stuck his hand out, “she’s going to have to pay for whatever she breaks.” Van turned her attention back toward him, mouth acidic now. She flexed her fingers through the air. 

“Why did you do that?” Her voice was small, weak. He laughed, and he pressed a hand to his chest. “I wanted to see.” Wasn’t that practically poisoning? Actually, she wasn’t sure if it was classified as such, but it felt like it should. Van stood frozen across from him. He held onto the mop like a lifeline, and from where she stood she could see the way his nails matched the yellow of his teeth. God, how she wanted to scrape her tongue. At least she’d only had a few bites. Thea, on the other hand…

Without thinking, Van took out her phone and pressed play on the last song she’d been listening to. She turned the volume up in an attempt to drown out the sounds coming from the bathroom. She knew that if the roles were reversed, she’d want Thea to do the same for her. Nine Stories by Hazel English started to blast through the small speakers, and really, it didn’t do much to mitigate the noise coming from the other end of the room. 

Van had been so busy with her phone that she hadn’t noticed the man got closer to her, dry and cracked fingers outstretched for her phone. “No loud music allowed. Company policy.” He tried to snatch her phone and she held it away from him, taking a step back. “I can do what I want. She’s–” Wouldn’t it embarrass Thea if Van actually said it? Instead, she cleared her throat. The man shook his head, that same stupid grin he wore earlier peeling over his expression like someone would peel an orange. It made Van’s stomach twist again. 

The wolf wasn’t easily calmed; against Thea’s wishes, it demanded release. Her anger, which she carried quietly and politely, would be better given into. Her shame, which was a constant acidic pool she dipped into, needed relief. Wasn’t she hungry for more? The wolf, her wolf, had been a part of her since birth; existing in the things held back, the things taught to be subdued. No matter what she did, the sense of relief the wolf gave her was undeniable. No matter how much she hated the creature, she loved the feeling of release. She didn’t want to eat Van—and the wolf would, it had a bottomless appetite—but could she pretend like she was strong enough to deny it? Her transforming body crashed into walls, scratched the door, clawed out the plumbing—and it felt good. Anxiety rolled into her anger which fueled her destructive shame which fed her insecurity which hugged her jealousy and kissed her fatigue for the human condition. What remained of Thea slowly disappeared into a bubbling darkness; it was so terrible to be human, full of terrible human emotions and thoughts and worries. The wolf could take everything away. Yes, we are. Yes. Yes.

The noises from the washroom turned from animalistic to horror-movie and the man’s smirk grew. His sloppy gaze trailed slowly onto the girl’s phone, which he snatched up in one fluid motion. “Play some real music at least,” he sneered, navigating her menus, through her playlists, through her music history, on her phone. Katy Perry’s Firework punched through the speakers. “Yeah.” He grinned, throwing the phone back more than handing it back. He tilted his head up to the ceiling, greasy hair flopping across his forehead. “Company policy: play good shit or else.” He closed his eyes and tasted his future on his hangover stained tongue; seeing the fireworks his queen Katy Perry sang about. His cryptocurrency and reddit inspired stock investments was gonna pan out this year, he knew. And he’d be gone—far, far away from shitty Wicked’s Rest. He’d get the life he was owed. He spread his arms wide, letting the music wash over him, mouthing the words. 

Van felt frozen in place. The noises from inside of the bathroom became more volatile. It sounded less and less like a bad trip to the bathroom and more like something else, but before she could peel away to investigate, the man was taking her phone. “Give that back!” Heat rushed to Van’s cheeks as she awkwardly splayed her fingers through the air, reaching for her phone. From the speakers, Nine Stories was disrupted by Katy Perry. Play good shit or else. 

The phone was tossed back to her with the speed in which that was meant for someone who didn’t want you to catch anything, at least somebody as uncoordinated as Van. The phone that Erin had given her bounced from her outstretched hands and onto the floor, directly into the dirty mop water bucket. Firework gargled out its last breath for a few agonizing seconds as Van stared down at the bucket in horror. The man said nothing, but dunked his hand into the bucket, coming away with her now waterlogged device. The screen wasn’t displaying anything, but she could make out a very quiet hum of the line do you ever feel like a plastic bag– 

“‘S your fault it fell.” Van watched in silence as the man wiped the device on the even dirtier rag hanging from the mop bucket. She watched as he looked it over– the sound of Thea’s convulsing, or what Van could only assume as such, acting as a horrific backdrop. 

Before she could properly react, a portal opened between them, and Van’s hair was in her face, whipping against the flat bridge of her nose. There was no wind within the rest of the store, but whatever the portal led to, that was enough to– 

The man screamed and Van watched as he was dragged through, something elongated digging its talons into his leg. She watched in silence, being thrown back into the moments where Diana had slipped and fell into the portal, that much like this one, had sprung open and snapped shut within a moment of recognition. The same happened here, and the only thing left behind was the cellphone that was now broken. Van stood there, stunned by what had just occurred. She could still hear the noise coming from within the bathroom and Van hurriedly ran her hands over herself, checking to make sure that she was okay. She was, but was Thea? 

“Thea? Thea!” Van knew that the other girl might be embarrassed by the urgency, but what else was she supposed to do? She had murdered somebody again, and they needed to get out. “Thea? Please– Um, you can–” She looked over her shoulder to make sure nobody else was coming into the shop. The noises continued, like skin splitting and refracting itself around bone. Van didn’t think Thea was okay, nor did she think this was lactose intolerance. “Thea, please–” The thought that whatever had gotten the man across from her had first gotten to Thea made her panic. She slammed her palm on the door, “Thea, please! We have to go!” The water she had heard earlier was beginning to seep from beneath the door, though it was tinted with rouge. This made Van panic more and she continued slamming her hand against the door, matching the frequency of the noise from the other side. 

Van’s voice sliced across the din of Thea’s mind. Oh god, she wept, her trashing body snapping and twisting. It happened. That pain in Van’s voice—that urgency—meant she’d done it. She was eating her. She couldn’t see, she couldn’t taste or smell; she felt like she was floating in space, staring down at her wolfish body on Earth—too small to make anything out. Oh god. She crumpled, tumbling to the slashed tiles. Her body cracked into place as she sobbed into her bloody palms. She couldn’t have just one friend, just one good day—it had to be this. Thea looked up, surveying the washroom through misty vision. Nothing was where it ought to be: the toilet was shattered on the opposite wall, water springing up from the pipes like a fountain. The walls bore distinct five-finger slashes in every direction, as if she’d tried to claw out through the wall. The door was carved out on her side, dug through with animal desperation. It thumped.

“Van?” Thea sniffled, stumbling to her aching legs. She fell against the door, letting the harsh knocks bounce through her bones. Through the battered wood, she could hear her: her friend, Van, alive, calling her name. Thea closed her eyes, taking in each breath and gasp and shout before she realized that Van didn’t sound okay. She unlocked the door and swung it open, smiling. “Van! Are you--” And then she grabbed it back, swinging it forcibly back to her body. “I’m naked.” She’d felt the breeze immediately. Her embarrassment served as a temporary pain killer. “I can’t—we should go yeah—it um, the toilet exploded…” She looked around. Where did that guy go? She didn’t have time to wonder. “I’m naked,” she repeated. “I can’t—I can’t walk around like this.” Why did the transformation have to take her clothes? The Hulk got to keep his pants at least—that was tasteful. 

Van’s mind raced as she slammed her hand against the door once again. The space behind her was left empty aside from the now broken phone and the mop bucket. Even the mop was gone, swallowed up by whatever had gotten the man. Deep down, she knew she was responsible. She knew that if she didn’t open the door to see Thea in the flesh, that whatever had gotten him had gotten her, too, and it would’ve been all her fault. 

There was a break in the convulsing from the other side of the door, and then Thea’s voice, strangely quiet– shaking. Van’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t killed her– Thea was alive, and whatever had happened hadn’t killed her. The fact that there was bloody water at her feet, however, still made Van uneasy. She didn’t relent slamming on the door until it opened. On the other side was Thea, face bruised– nose broken, blood already dried down her face. She was naked, too. Van looked past Thea before the door could be yanked back, noticing the way that the toilet was shattered. What the hell had happened in there? When Thea spoke, Van realigned her gaze and she stuttered out, “it was just dairy.” Okay, maybe not the best thing to say, especially because Van was almost one hundred percent positive that dairy wasn’t the culprit here, but maybe it was better for both their sakes if she did. Whatever happened on this side of the door, it wasn’t reminiscent of anything she’d seen. Van had her run-ins with dairy, she knew the experience, and this seemed far from it. 

“You’re naked.” Van forgot, only momentarily, about the way the black hole opened up behind her just moments ago, but only because Thea needed help. “No, that’s– it’s only for French people to do that.” She cleared her throat, clearly stressed by the situation. “It’s–” She looked around, noticing that there was some merch hanging on one side of the wall. There was only a t-shirt, but there had to be something else, right? “Hold on.” With her legs wobbling beneath her, Van made her way to the t-shirt and yanked it down. It looked like it might actually fit her. After some searching, she came up empty on a pair of pants and opted for a trash bag. Before returning to Thea, she shakily punched holes through the bottom of the bag for Thea’s legs. It’d look weird, but she didn’t think Thea would mind as long as she didn’t need to run through town naked. “Um, I found…” She extended an even shakier hand out towards Thea, half-afraid that whatever had happened behind the closed door might get her, too. “I’m sorry they aren’t real pants. There are no real pants here.” Her voice wavered slightly and she could feel the pool of tears beginning to sting the corners of her eyes. Couldn’t she just not cry for one second?! She cleared her throat and took a step back. It’d only be a matter of time before Thea realized that the man was gone, or maybe she already had. What excuse could Van give to her friend? Would she even believe it? What excuse would Thea give to her? Van knew it wasn’t lactose intolerance that did this, it couldn’t be. 

“No, it was–it was the toilet.” Thea tried to explain. “I didn’t do that. The toilet…it uh…launched out of the ground like a rocket? And then bounced around the room? And I hadn’t used it yet. It just, um, looked at me and did that. I’m–I’m trying not to take it personally.” She wasn’t sure how believable she sounded, but she hoped her bright smile dispelled any doubts. Surely Van would believe that it was the toilet and not her? 

“Do the French walk around naked? Like outside?” Thea frowned. “Like inside stores? They do that?” The French were weird, she guessed. Although, her sad French education didn’t include anything about nudity. It did, however, include a large number of puppets. Her body thrummed with pain and her mind tried to recall all the French puppets she had been subjected to—there was also the matter of the puppet show of Les Trois Petite Cochons that she performed. Voici le loup. When Van arrived again, Thea took the offerings gleefully. “Thanks! I can definitely wear a shirt and a…is this a trash bag...?” The door swung closed as she released it, muffling the rest of her sentence. But before she was cut off from Van completely, she looked up and caught a glimpse of her wet eyes. 

Slipping into the shirt was easy, pushing her legs through the holes Van so graciously made in the trash bag was a little harder. In the end, she pulled her legs through and tied the bag around her waist to prevent it from falling. In the shattered mirror, she saw that she looked like a giant baby with a trash bag diaper. Normally, this would make her cry. However, somewhere beyond the half-broken washroom door was her friend, who was actually crying. Thea pushed herself out and debuted her trash baby look, smiling softly. Her arms, despite any better judgment, wrapped around her friend. Her legs crinkled. “It’s okay,” she said, unsure of what she was soothing. Over Van’s head, she saw the upturned bucket and shattered phone. Wasn’t there supposed to be a man there? “Where did the…” She swallowed. “Let’s get out of here, okay? But not too fast, the trash bag isn’t very secure.” 

Van didn’t believe Thea, but she wanted to. Wanted to think that maybe Wicked’s Rest had possessed toilets, but there was something else that Thea wasn’t telling her. The busted nose, the way the blood was sticking to her face– the fact that she was naked, it was all too much to ignore in favor of lactose intolerance. A few months ago she might have been able to convince herself that it was in fact lactose intolerance, but now? Now, she knew it was something else. But Thea didn’t want to tell her, and Van wasn’t going to make her. “The toilet is like, really mean for doing that.” She wasn’t sure how that was what she landed on, but she ran with it. 

She wasn’t really sure how to answer Thea’s question about the French. Really, she was just referencing the one man who had streaked at the zoo. She thought it was common knowledge now, but apparently it wasn’t. Van sniffled, wiping away some of the stray tears that were beginning to stick to her cheeks. Thea came out from behind the door and Van recoiled at the sound of the swish the garbage bag made. The door closed, and Thea’s arms were around her. Van thought back to the moments where she thought whatever had gotten the nasty man had gotten her and she found herself winding her arms around the taller girl, squeezing her tightly. She hid her face into the dusty-smelling t-shirt and inhaled, proving to herself that Thea was real. 

Something cracked open in the silence that warped around them and Van was pulling away, looking behind her to where Thea’s eyes were glued. She swallowed thickly and tried her best to steady herself. It was probably better that they just leave. What if there was footage of them? What would happen then? Van nodded in agreement, peeling herself away from Thea. She felt guilty for giving the other girl a trash bag to wear. Maybe she should have taken off her pants and given Thea them and then wore the trash bag herself. “He…” She flexed her fingers through the air again, as if tracing them through the magic that had swallowed him whole. There was no energy, nothing that made Van think it’d be coming back to take them, too. “We should go.” She reiterated Thea’s earlier statement and stooped down to grab her phone. She shoved it into her pocket and looked towards the already melting ice cream in the corner booth. “Come on.” With a shaky hand, she reached out for Thea. The tears still fell, but she felt a little more confident as she pulled Thea out of the ice cream shop. They could check back later and see if any reports were made. If all else failed, maybe the man was severely hated and it’d work out in their favor that he was gone at all. 

Thea stayed close to her friend, walking along the sunlit sidewalk with her crinkly trash bag pants. “This was kind of a bad date–uh–friend date,” she said, staring at the open horizon. “Guess we’ll have to have another.” She shrugged about as well as someone could while holding someone else’s hand. And for a moment, she forgot she looked like a trash baby and that a man was suspiciously missing and that she had committed property damage. Instead, she thought about Van’s voice and her certainty: yes, we are. 

[lovedabishiga]

TouTen Vigilantes

Being a vigilante is a thankless job.

Most of the time, he patrols the streets and keeps suspicious individuals away only to get a lackluster thank you and lukewarm soba from the old grannies at the neighborhood. Other times, he chases after pickpockets and thieves and sometimes unfair loan sharks only to get chased away by a mob who thinks he’s the one who stole from them, even when he ends up hauling all the stolen stuff back. Efforts to properly recognize his valiant and selfless efforts come far and few. As is typical; gratitude only comes when you’re a shiny hero and not some washout copy of the No. 2.

Being a vigilante, after all, is an unrewarding job.

Because despite all the good you do to a neighborhood, community, or some stranger who needs a little help, a single mistake automatically marks you as a villain.

A villain.

A brawl with an armed robber of a convenience store turned to a fire emergency and the robber being rushed to the hospital. On the news, the robber was called a civilian. The firemaker, however, was hailed as the villain.

“Unbelievable pricks,” Touya mutters under his breath, sitting down at a fire escape with his box of first-aid supplies and a radio the fizzles every three seconds. “Next time, I’ll let you get robbed, yeah?”

‘Thank goodness for Manual, Hosu’s own water boy!’ the newscaster says, while her partner chuckles. ‘And don’t forget our delightful No. 2, Endeavor – ’

“What the – he has a fire quirk! He didn’t even do anything,” Touya exclaims, as if arguing against a beat-up radio would stop the reporters from laughing, or change the news story, or even refrain them from mentioning ever again his Fa – no, Endeavor. And it hurts, knowing that he did so much than the man who arrived 10 minutes later at the scene. “Stupid, gullible pieces of trash,” Flammable trash, all of them, all of them!

“Um, excuse me?”

If Touya was less injured from the burns, he’d launch a fire first right then and there. Instead, Touya whips around, legs ready to sprint or to fight, both his palms balled to a fists, as a he regards a young man at the stairs of the fire escape. He is small and hooded, with a thick parka over his frame and battered cargo pants, donned all in the color black, except for the rabbit mask that’s skewed over to the side, his bright red shoes and even brighter red eyes.

“You’re the ‘Touya,’” the man smiles, ominous. “Right?”

Touya squints. “And you’re the Rabbit,” Every vigilante knows that mask anywhere. “Right?”  

The Rabbit – or at least that is what Touya remembers of him, the vigilante with a nasty quirk and fearsome prowess that even Stain acknowledges him – drops his smile and sighs exasperatedly. “Ah, no, it’s actually Hare, not rabbit. Those two are very different species.”

Touya frowns. Huh. “Then why do you have a bunny mask then?” This isn’t what Touya had in mind when he first heard of the vigilante, Rabbit – or Hare.

Short, skittish, soft-spoken with a rasp in his voice. There’s a stupid mole next to his lip and for some reason, Touya’s lizard brain chose to fixate on that and not on the ungloved hands that many people in the circles of the underground warn incessantly against.

Touya notices a thimble on each of the Hare’s middle fingers though.  “T-this isn’t a bunny mask, it’s a /hare/ mask, this time I made sure – ” Then, as if remembering what he came here for, Hare quickly composes himself. “I came here because…I saw the news.”

Touya tenses. “It isn’t hard to,” For reasons Touya /knows/, there’s a bounty on the villain that burned down the convenience store. A whooping 1 million yen, to be paid by Endeavor’s Hero agency, for the said villain’s capture. Alive. Touya takes a step forward. “So what of it?”

“Well, you see – ” Burned fingers or no, a fall is still a fall if Touya pushed hard and right enough. “– I saw what you did and – ” Touya just needs to be careful of those fingers, because if he gets touched by all of them, he’s gone – “ – thought you were still miles better than all the heroes who responded, despite what everyone else says.”

Touya balks. “What – ”

“I know Manual and Idaten patrol that area, but still, you were the first to arrive, the first act at the scene, and sure, some collateral damage happened, but you still ended up saving that man’s life. If you waited for the heroes, I’m sure that robber wouldn’t gotten away and that convenience store will have to be closed down,” the Hare says, nodding to himself. So, please don’t get disheartened by what people say. Taking down properties is just part of the job. I’ve taken a few myself! If heroes are allowed to do so, then why can’t we? It’s such a double standard really. And,” Then the Hare chuckles, looking less than the violent executioner that he was said to be and more of a teenage boy just a few years younger than Touya. “You were amazing.”

“Oh.” Touya feels his cheeks heat up. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

“But next time you really might want to be more careful. We don’t want to attract the attention of heroes when they’re supposed to be turning a blind eye on us,” the Hare continues on, rummaging something in the pockets of his parka before taking out a small convenience store, onigiri. “Here. For a job well done,” the smaller man places it on the ground between them. “Thank you for your good work. Let’s do our best to make this hero society a better place!"

Then without any preamble, he leaps off the staircase, hops all the way down to the ground, before dashing off. Touya stares at where the younger vigilante was, mouth agape, left with the company of a sole onigiri and a radio long-forgotten.

Touya rubs his hands against his face, keening. “What the fuck was that…?”

If this is what it feels like to be rewarded for his efforts, then maybe, maybe, he’d like to remain thankless (he doesn’t), unknown (not anymore).

And most of all, he doesn’t want to be patronized like that ever again!

(He’ll burn more buildings if that means seeing that cute, red-eyed bunny again)

[blitznut]

Human Error: Blitznut edition:

Blitzwing's holoform is based on Beyoncé. She's his gay icon. He loves Homecoming (the movie) one day, and he loves her album B-day so much that he based his holoform off of her. His holoform is of an athletic young-ish (mid 30s) woman with brown skin, dark brown hair, blonde highlights, long sculpted legs, and a very, very impractical (yet very chic) military uniform. The holoform has a lazy eye.

Lugnut's holoform is more practical than Blitzwing's. He chooses to take form as a heavy-set, yet muscular, white woman with auburn hair. This holoform wears a puffer jacket with a purple turtleneck, and a pair of cargo pants. The holoform wears a mask that covers it's eyes.

The mission they are put on is to steal Sari's key. They are hired by Porter C. Powell (who wants Sari out of his hair) to be her new nannies. Sari is very suspicious of them because her new guardians spend more time arguing with each other than trying to care for her. Cue shenanigans to try to steal Sari's key, including using a fishing rod to snatch it off her neck, giving her a cute jewelry box to coax her into taking it off, and even taking her to the mall to get her hair done in hope that the hairdresser makes her take off the necklace.

Because this is Blitzwing and Lugnut, however, they fail everytime.

What ends up happening is that Blitzwing gets both him and Lugnut fired from their job because Sari is sick of their asses like a week into their undercover mission. They end up on the streets of Detroit, wandering around aimlessly.

Blitzwing, in this form, gets cold because while his uniform is totally chic, it is totally horrible in cold weather. Lugnut gives Blitzwing his puffer jacket, and they walk together in the cold, alone together.

[arcxnumvitae]

An ornate jewelry box crashed against the wall of his room. Who the hell from Zhongyang was orchestrating this? The last thing he needed was security tightening, nor suspicious eyes on him. And they would be, oh they would be, if news got out that the assassin was one of his countrymen. Why did they decide now of all times to cause trouble? Pockets of resistance had existed since the annexation, but they never made more trouble than attacking Tengmen guards or cargo. They were a homespun militia at best. So how did they manage to orchestrate sneaking an assassin into the palace? And why attack the princess? Aside from holding her brother's favor, she held no political power whatsoever. She was useless.

This was going to drive him mad.