#uh. precautionary measures. or something.

[buguazu-a-day]

31. behind the scenes

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Ed hadn't meant to wake Stede up.

Their bedroom was starting to look like an actual bedroom, lately, filling up with knick-knacks and trinkets and all sorts of odds and ends, and in the early-morning light the walls were pink. Ed's body hadn't gotten used to it, not yet, still woke him up at the crack of dawn most days. So he'd turned on his side, looking at Stede, still fast asleep, drooling on the pillow, a bit, and -

Fuck, but he was beautiful.

Ed reached out, feather-light, to cup Stede's cheek, brush a thumb over wrinkles and skin. Stede snuffled, pressing his cheek into Ed's palm.

"Mrrm," Stede grumbled, then, a questioning little noise.

"Nothing," Ed whispered. "Go back to sleep."

Stede brought one sleepy hand up to hold Ed's hand against his face, shifted it to kiss his palm. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," Ed said, and then, because he'd never really been the best at bottling it up, "do you think we'll get to have this? For long enough, I mean?"

"Ed," Stede sighed sleepily, "can we reschedule this emotional crisis for no earlier than six in the morning?"

"Sorry," Ed mumbled, starting to feel a bit guilty -

Stede's eyes opened properly, because he might've been a bit of a bitch but he could read Ed damn well, and his fingers laced with Ed's. "Don't be sorry. I'll wake up at the - the fucking asscrack of dawn if you need me to."

Ed snorted, eyes shifting to land on the pink wall. "I just - it's, uh...d'you think maybe this is too good? That we won't get to keep it? That one morning we'll wake up and it'll be just like this but then something will happen and it'll be gone? Maybe we'll get hurt, or the English will find us, or..."

"Oh, Ed." Stede eased up onto his elbows, holding his arms open. "C'mere, sweet man."

Ed tucked himself into Stede's arms with a grateful sigh, pillowing his head on his chest.

"I wish I knew," Stede said. "I wish I could promise you forever. I wish I could promise you all the time in the world. But -"

"You can't."

"I can't," Stede finished. "But...sweet pea, I don't know about you, but I love our life too much to spend every day worrying about when it's going to end. We can make up emergency plans, if you like. We have options. The next thing we work on can be the escape hatch we were talking about it. But we don't have to fix everything all at once. We're together. Right now, we're safe, and together, and in love. That's gotta count for something, right?"

Ed let his breath out in a long sigh, tucking his face into the side of Stede's neck. "I love you."

"I know." Stede tapped the tip of Ed's nose with his finger. "I love you."

"Yeah." Ed smiled against Stede's skin. "I know."

Then Stede was muttering something about how they'd be better able to scheme up contingency plans and emergency plans and precautionary measures if they were both well-rested, and Ed got the hint.

It would always be weird. Ed didn't know if he'd ever stop scanning the horizon, if he'd ever feel fully like the fragile peace they had was something that could last, that they could keep. But Stede was right - he loved his life too much to waste it on worrying about when it was going to be over.

So Ed listened as Stede's breathening evened out, and he clenched his fingers in Stede's nightshirt and buried his nose in his hair and breathed in, breathed out, as he settled in for the rest of their forever.

[rottenpumpkin13]

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall, Will You Spare Me Death if I Fool Them All?

⏤ crisis core: final fantasy vii.

⏤ angst, whump, hurt/no comfort, blood and some gore

⏤ wc: 1312

⏤ a/n: a small portion of the aftermath of the training room incident from Genesis's POV and how he got his wing. i started stress writing and it turned into this :^)

— Everything is always uglier up close.

Or at least one can say as much when they inch themselves closer to a vision of beauty, study each sparkling morsel of it, and come to find that the diamonds glimmering beneath their gaze are nothing more than broken glass shards.

It was a notion Genesis knew well. He had insolent habits as a child, but none of them were as curious as his selective observation.

He'd sit bored at Banora's parties—though ever the prim and proper young boy—with his back against a velvet chair, eyes fixed on the finery hung around the nearest neck.

It was always diamond, emerald, or if the victim was pompous enough, crystalized mako. That was Genesis's favorite. He'd maintain a simpering demeanor, oftentimes hiding his smirk behind a fist as he observed them.

Genesis never said a word. He wouldn't dare be seen as an insolent child when the reward of keeping his knowledge to himself was much sweeter.

If he looked close enough, the ugly truth was brought to light with a blinding revelation. Diamond became crystal, emerald became cheap tourmaline, and the mako jewelry they were oh-so boastful about was nothing but green quartz polished enough to pass for a rarity.

Of course, he could never trust Angeal to do the same.

"What's with your coat?"

"H-uh?" Genesis sputtered.

The din of the cafeteria crowd around him muffled as he became hyperaware of his every move. He had good reason to. Each inch of his bare skin, from his naked fingers to the exposed neck above his collar, was under scrutiny.

The question was as good as a taser aimed right at him. Genesis stilled, then felt the meat slip from his spoon and dunk itself back in his soup bowl with a splatter. He held the utensil feebly in midair, his mouth agape and eyes widened at the man sitting in front of him.

Sephiroth sat beside Angeal on the booth, leaving Genesis alone on the opposite side, a setup which in hindsight, Genesis should've known was a tact.

He met Sephiroth's analytical gaze. The green and slitted eyes raked up Genesis's body, drinking in the pitiful weakness of his form before stopping just below his shoulder.

There was something reminiscent of pity— remorse, even—on his face, but Genesis's pride and embarrassment always worked hand-in-hand to blind him toward such things.

It didn't matter. He knew what Sephiroth was looking at, and he knew what Angeal was alluding to: the bulging spot in his coat where a wad of bandages rested beneath.

He put down his spoon gingerly, prolonging the tap of the metal against the wooden table. Then he wiped his lips with a napkin, sitting up straighter and working a smug smirk onto his previous frown.

"Oh, you mean this?" He patted the leather lump with complete nonchalance—even if he was wincing in pain on the inside. "Infinite in mystery. Don't worry about it, it's just—"

"Bandages?" Angeal inferred. "For your shoulder?"

It had been just shy of two weeks since the transfusion—the fruitless, invasive, and painful waste of his time. The infection had only increased, blackening the already bruised skin by day and leaving Genesis writhing with white-hot pain each night.

"Yeah," Genesis looked down, grabbing his gloves from beside him. Angeal's inquiry had stripped away the opportunity to flawlessly lie.

"It's simply a precautionary measure, no need to dwell over it, old friend, hero of the dawn, healer of worlds—"

"Precautionary measure against what, exactly?" Sephiroth cut in with another blow to Genesis's ego. "Is it bleeding?"

"Bleeding," Genesis repeated as he pulled on his gloves haughtily. "Don't be ridiculous, Sephiroth. I need to keep the wound wrapped until it heals fully, lest I risk contracting another infection."

"And it's not? Healing?" Sephiroth pushed again, this time lowering both eyebrows into a judgmental dip. "You look frail."

Genesis shoved his tray of food away, causing the soup to slop over the bowl. Angeal and Sephiroth watched with clear apprehension as the redhead slammed his back against the seat, then crossed his arms.

His eyes were cool, regarding either of them with no more contempt than they ignited.

"It's not." His voice was clipped. "Healing."

He noticed Sephiroth's shoulders slump. "Gene—"

"I have to go." Genesis stood up. "Never a better time to start on those overdue mission reports than when I'm too weak and frail to compare to the likes of you."

Sephiroth lowered his head, no doubt hiding the regret slapped across his face.

"You know that's not what he meant," Angeal huffed, exasperated as he watched Genesis step out of the booth.

"Yes, I doubt I know much at all," Genesis scoffed.

Angeal was at a loss. "Genesis!"

The surrounding tables had started to stare, some bowing their heads as they conversed in hushed whispers. Genesis was stiff, naked before the tongues which would wag if he were to make a scene.

He looked down at the other two men. "I have to go, but who knows? Maybe we can fraternize later, say, in the training room?"

Genesis pinned Sephiroth—who still kept his head down refusing eye contact—in place with his glare.

"Maybe you can finish me off, friend, put me out of my misery."

All Genesis heard was a last desperate call of his name before he dipped past the surrounding tables, making a beeline out of the cafeteria.

Later that night, he recalled the aforementioned notion. Everything, no matter its beauty, always appeared uglier under the magnifying glass of scrutiny.

He was hunched over in the darkness, both knees digging into the hardwood floor. A few red candles were scattered nearby, each of them blurry through the tearful eyes that drunk in their light.

Genesis's knit shirt and red coat lay haphazardly across the floors, blood-soaked and bedraggled beyond prior recognition.

His hyperventilating sobs were the only sign of life sounding around the apartment. Shaken breaths, each more frantic than the last were all he could manage.

Genesis didn't fear death. No, to say he feared death was an insult, a light way to put it. He was petrified, frozen in horror before the prospect that he was withering away, living with one foot dipped in the grave, feeling the eager hand of death tugging him down inch by inch each day.

He slowly lifted his head, then caught a glimpse of himself through the looking glass. It was a pitiful sight, no matter how many sugary lies he told himself to quench his worries.

There was a burning sensation through his spine, like a nail dragging itself through his veins and ripping apart each one with torturous intent.

Globules of blood dripped down his back, marring the floor with crimson puddles.

Something began tearing through his left shoulder blade. He cried as it broke the skin, twisting and snapping. The wet sounds of flesh being torn open melded with the crackle of his spine.

Genesis's back curled as he hunched over deeper. His screeches were raw, shredding his throat, pulling out every last morsel of emotion from his body until he was hoarse.

He felt it; something coming out of him. With his nails digging into the floor, bloody and cracked, he let out one last guttural cry.

And then he felt it. Something unfurled from his back. He felt it like an extension of his body, an extra limb stretching out.

All was quiet again. His heaving breaths slowed. He curled his palms into fists, then used them to push himself up from the wet floor.

Genesis looked into the mirror.

A black wing protruded from his back.

He raked his eyes over his own body, sticky with blood and pieces of flesh, then pinned the dreaded spot on his shoulder.

There, the wound remained intact, as black and ugly as it ever looked up close.

[crowley-in-arkham]

Albus City: the Gotham Antithesis, or so Rook says.

I'd say he's right, even amidst the winter season Albus seems warm—despite the military occupation.

When Rook asked me to keep my passport ready, I was somewhat taken aback by the sheer amount of precautionary measured implemented. I can somewhat understand why Crane never made it out this way.

"Arkham?" One of the guards eyes my ID critically, "We haven't had a doctor from there come into Albus for a while."

"Someone from Arkham?" I asked, furrowing a brow. (If it's Crane I'll lose my mind.)

"Uh, yeah, Arkham—I think. I assume the founder? Or related? Lanky guy, bad haircut—round glasses. Looks like he just walked out of the 50s."

"That'd be Jeremiah Arkham." Rook snickered, "He's the founder's son."

"I'm not here for work," I piped up, "Just to get a license."

Rook chuckled, "Kust here for the beauty of the Sunbleached City!"

The guard raised a brow, looking at Rook with a sting of familiarity. "You Fujimoto's boy?"

Rook seemed to straighten up in his seat, "Yeah, uh, Inko's my mom."

"Hope you're doing her proud up in Gotham," the guard squint his eyes, "Not gettin into fights still, I hope?"

Rook stared at the guard for a moment then it clicked to him: "Oh! I didn't even recognize you Bryn!"

The guard let out a hardy laugh and ruffled the Avian's hair, "Just glad you did eventually. What a fine coincidence, bein' on duty the day you decided to come home."

"It's good to see you! Suppose its better you than someone else have to hear me explain why the Doc and I are here."

"Well, lay it on me an' I'll lend you an ear," the guard flashed me a fanged grin and a wink.

"I'm not sure what I can and cannot disclose—" I started, before Rook interjected.

"The doctor's just treading carefully. She has kind of latent anomaly. While I'm here I'm gonna have Dr. White take a look at her, maybe he'll spy something Gotham can't."

The guard narrowed his golden eyes, "I know I needn’t tell you, Rook, but, your friend here should get the history lesson before she goes pokin' around the Heart."

"Heart?" I echoed to myself.

The wolf-like guard pointed a clawed hand up towards a large skyscraper crowned in glass domes: beside it, like a false sun, a glowing white ball of some ethereal nature.

"That's the Heart," The guard explained, standing back up, from Rook's window. "Give her all the Albus City warnings once you get home, especially if she'll be prodding at White and the other researchers. Last thing we need right now is more stress on the labrats: Creed's got that covered."

"Will do, sir."

Frankly, I was left with far more questions than answers. Rook drove carefully through the city, explaining district after district and gang relationship to gang relationship.

I was surprised with the nature of Albus, the city was treated as if it were an independent state from the rest of the US because of it's anomalous nature.

I sighed, interjecting on Rook explaining why the Hawkwood Majors and the Springtown Wreckers contest over territory despite Haven being Vig territory. Whatever those words mean.

"What exactly does Dr. White do?"

Rook chuckled, "Basically what Strange does, but instead of tampering with your DNA he only tries to stabilize anything dangerous."

"Stabilize anything dangerous?" I said skeptically, "Like, cure cancer?"

"No, he only works with anomalies—like you, me, Ivy. Some anomalies can be incredibly dangerous and unstable—like the Majors I was talking about earlier."

I chuckled, "You lost me when you were on the Majors."

Rook snickered, "No worries, its a lot. Majors get their name from their shared anomaly. It's just called Majoris: it just makes them big. It's one of the most common anomalies: yet one of the most unstable."

"Unstable how?"

"They can randomly lash out, sent into a blind rage by some unknown stimulant— like— Epilepsy. Something in their brain gets triggered. Instead of seizing though— it's like their adrenal system goes into hyperdrive and they go full elephant rut. Terrible stuff."

"So Dr. White helps them? Fixes them?"

"He's more like a—" Rook motions his hand looking for the word, before clicking and exclaiming: "Like a psychiatrist for metahumans!"

"I see," I mulled quietly, before adding an optimistic, "I can't wait to meet him then."

Rook shook his head excitedly, "Honestly, you'll get to meet pretty much everyone."

I tilted my head, "Everyone?"

Rook shrugged, "Maybe not the Vigilants, but my mom and people she works with, definitely!"

I furrowed my brows and smiled, "Well, I'm sure your mother is lovely— but, um—" I chuckled awkwardly, "Who— who are the Vigilants?" Rook had pulled into a space in front of a building complex. It was a quaint little dojo wedged between a natural remedy shop and an attorney's office.

Rook chuckled and looked at me with a raised brow, "Seriously?"

I apologized, "Sorry, sorry, I've never heard of them."

Rook chuckled, "They're like Albus' personal Justice League: it's best not to think about it much deeper than that though."

"Why not?"

"Albus isn't a perfect city," Rook shrugged, "it's just inverse Gotham. Instead of seeing it go down on the streets, it all goes down in boardrooms and laboratories."

Rook hopped out of the Jeep and plucked my bag from the back seat. When we entered, he'd held the dojo door open for me.

It was a decorated dojo, with soft brown and tan tatami mats and tasteful ink murals on the walls.

"Welcome to the Yamakarasu Dojo," Rook chuckled, "the stairs are over here."

A woman around my height poked her head out from a storage room.

"Is that—" the woman asked through a squinted gaze, flicking down a pair of brown glasses. She gasped, busting out from behind the counter leaving a crash of books and papers in her wake: "My little mountain crow!" The winged woman basically tackled Room out the door.

"Hey ma—" The woman seemed to only register my presence after tacking her son out of the door, "This is my co-worker, Mina."

The woman laughed and took my hand in hers, apologizing, "Sorry, sorry, Sousuke never calls so I had no idea you two were coming!"

I narrowed my eyes at Rook who chuckled awkwardly.

"Come on upstairs and I'll get the guest room set up for you," She motioned, "A bit close to the holidays to be making your way to Albus, don't you think?"

Rook chuckled, "Two birds with one stone."

I looked at him and so did his mother.

Rook laughed, "Well, I thought it was funny."

His mother rolled her eyes and lead me up to the main apartment: a tiny nook with pleasant green walls and a myriad of plants throughout.

"Ivy would like it here," I chuckled, nudging Rook on the shoulder.

The avian snickered and carried my bags, following behind his mother.

"What did you come home for anyway, Sou?" Rook's mother asked, while I eyed the photos on the wall.

"I need to have Marcus take a look at Crowley," Rook admitted, "She's a bit of a unique case."

Rook's mother raised a brow, "She looks fine to me."

Rook chuckled, "Well, she wasn't really—" he took a moment to find the word, "One of us before."

Inko chuckled from the guest room, "The hell does that mean, Sousuke?"

Rook sighed, "She didn't have wings ma."

Into stopped and laughed wryly, "What?"

"She was 110% normal human until recently."

"You mean to say she just—" Inko flicked her fingers out to mimic a poof.

"Yeah, except kind of literally."

Rooks mother sat on the bed and looked at me, "So, tell me what happened."

I turned and pondered for a moment on what I could and couldn't say.

"Trust me, I won't tell a soul no matter how questionably ethical it might be."

I hesitated, and Inko sighed, "Alright. Take your shirt off."

"Excuse me?"

"Mina, just trust me."

"Does Rook have to be here?"

"Would you rather it be me or Dr. White?" Inko said flatly.

I stopped and sighed, "Fair enough."

I struggled to pull newly grown wings from my shirt's haphazardly cut back, before sitting down on the bed next to Rook's mother.

She stood up and began eyeing my arms and neck critically.

She stopped when she spotted a small scar on my abdomen.

"Have you had any repetitive injections in the last few months?"

Rook looked concerned.

"I can't say for certain, but I do have reason to believe I have, yeah."

Inko stared at me with wild concern, "You have reason to believe? The hell happened to you?"

Inko shook her head, "Sousuke, I'm going to come to the lab with you when you see White. If anyone else has received the treatment Mina here has: I would like to know immediately."

I pondered, "The only one I know for certain is Jon."

Rook piped up, "Could you elaborate? We're kind of in the dark about this."

Inko sighed, "I can explain when we get to the lab. I want to run some tests to determine whether or not this is what I think it is."

"What you think it is?" Rook barked, "Mom, would you just tell us?"

"When the Heart first opened there were a ton of projects opened up to understand anomalies in Albus and why they occurred so much differently and far more frequently in Albus than anywhere else in the world," Inko explained while she pulled a coat on.

"A few projects regarded a substance that was discovered after the Heart opened: we call it Rylumine, and it's something all anomalies in Albus share. These projects aimed to create consistent and artificial anomalies by injecting foreign fetus' and babies with the substance: the only—" She made quotations with her fingers, "'Successful' project being Operation Lazarus."

"Marcus and I will explain more when we get to the lab," the woman assured, "but I have reason to suspect that you and this 'Jon' fella have been subject to Rylumine injections."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Anomalies are a dice roll. Some people become angels, some people end up like Claude Gideon."

"Claude Gideon?"

"Albus City Bruce Wayne:" Rook interjected, "if Bruce Wayne went nuts and murdered his girlfriend."

"What?"

Inko motioned her hand, "Sorry for giving you zero downtime, hun, but you might have been caught in the midst of Albus' dirty laundry."

I've never been more confused in my life.

[atelierlens]

Lens Atelier 19: Preview

It was the year 9 X X, 18 months after I joined Puller Office.

“GOOOOOOD MORNING, DISTRICT 16!!!! The time currently reads 8:00 AM, with a fair temperature of 22 degrees! It’s going to be a BEAUTIFUL day today with mostly-sunny skies and a cool breeze through to tonight at 9:00 PM, after which we’re expecting rain showers from about 9 PM - 3 AM. Be sure to keep your pets inside and safe by then!”

The speaker awkwardly cleared their throat, as if they had misspoken.

“Of course, this is a Nest channel, so our listeners from the Backstreets are already taking precautionary measures for that! This is aimed at our Nest listeners specifically. Now– for our scheduled programming on this fine morning, we have these next segments…” 

“Ahhhh… Who woulda known today was gonna be so nice?”

The personable Fixer propped his feet up on the coffee table.

“Today feels like a laundry day. Y’know, like when you go to the laundromat and sit on one of them wax seats, watching whatever soap operas or novellas on the TV while waiting for your clothes to finish drying?”

“Ooooh? Didn’t take you for the kind of person to reminisce on things that have NEVER happened to you, Kuzuki~”

The playful Fixer sitting across from Kuzuki teased him.

“Untrue!” 

“Exactly!”

She giggled as she pushed back at Kuzuki.

“Grrrr….” 

“Now, Helena, don’t tease him too hard. He might actually just go out to do laundry right now just to prove you wrong.”

Mr. Blakeney butted in to join Helena in bullying Kuzuki.

“...Man, whose side are you on?”

“Hahah. I unfortunately don’t fight losing battles.” 

Kuzuki groaned.

“Whatever! Point is– it’s really nice today!” 

“You’re definitely right about that~! I could just go out and take a nice walk through the markets. Right, Sal?” 

Helena turned to me, who by that point was listening to the radio on the other side of the lounge room and vaguely listening in to Helena and Kuzuki’s banter. 

“Oh, well, uh… I guess? It feels like most other days, though.”

A dull response. It’s not that I wasn’t interested in taking part in my superiors’ conversation– I was just caught so off-guard that I couldn’t really add anything meaningful to it.

“Mmmm, not good!”

Helena shook her head at me. 

“Huh?”

“You can’t just say something depressing like that and expect me to let it slide. Listen: me, you, after work. Let’s go shopping!”

“Wh—“

“Of course, Fiore’s invited too~ I want today to feel different from other days for you. C’mon! I can even give all sorts of advice. Dating, fashion, self-care, Fixer stuff~”

“Wh-what even…?”

I didn’t really know how to respond. I wasn’t even sure if Helena was being serious about this…

“Yo, what about me?! Kinda rude to go out and have fun without me, y’know!”

Kuzuki butted in, clearly feeling left out.

“Hm? Oh, sure, I guess you’re invited too. You’re gonna pay for our food though, Kuzuki~”

“Whaaat?!” 

“That’s the rules~ You want in, pay part of the expenses.” 

“Hrghmmmmm…” 

Kuzuki grumbled before hanging his head in resignation.

“Morning, everyone!” 

Fiore greeted everyone with a grin while carrying a bag of sweet breads.

“Morning, Fiore. You came in at the perfect time.”

Mr. Blakeney side-eyed Helena and Kuzuki.

“Huh? Hold on, what’re you two going on about now?”

Fiore inquired with a raised brow. She was used to intervening whenever Helena and Kuzuki were at each other’s throats.

But this time she was too late– Kuzuki had already been defeated by Helena.

“Ah, good morning Fiore~! We were just talking about going out shopping after work with Salieri here.”

“Oh?”

She set the bag of bread on Mr. Blakeney’s desk.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Just a spontaneous decision! I want Salieri to go outside and have fun without any sort of work obligations! You’re invited to come along, naturally.”

Fiore turned to look at me, clearly confused by my involvement in any of Helena’s antics.

“Err…” 

Unfortunately, the most I could reply with was an awkward smile followed by a shrug.

“Well, I won’t ask. But, hmm…”

She rested her hand on her chin pensively. For a moment, her expression deepened into a frown, but then it returned to her natural, confident look.

“I’ll have to pass this time. You go on ahead though, Sal.”

“Huh? But… why aren’t you going?”

“I’m not gonna be home ‘till the evening.”

“Did something come up…?”

“Mmm, sort of. It’s nothing super serious though, so don’t worry!”

“...”

I couldn’t help but frown. Ever since I became a Fixer, I tried my best to start becoming less dependent on Fiore.

It felt like the longer I relied on her, the more of a burden I ended up becoming. Both financial and emotional. So I didn’t want to press this any further out of fear that I’d come off as needy, but… 

Something felt off about Fiore today. Really off.

“Cheer up, dude! If I pay for food, then I’m also dragging y’all along to the arcade! It’s her that’s gonna be missing out on the fun.” 

“A-ah…” 

Kuzuki, who just moments ago was sulking, ruffled my hair. It’s something he and Mr. Blakeney did often, so I was sort of used to it…

“The arcade?”

Helena raised her eyebrow.

“Yeah. What, not into games at all?”

“Quite the opposite, actually~ Not only am I one of the most fashionable gals in District 16’s Backstreets, I’m also one of the best arcade gamers.”

“Hah! You’re bluffing. I’m the best gamer in all the City, period. You’re no match for my sick puck drifting!”

Helena smirked just as Kuzuki uttered those words.

“I’m not so sure about that. Everyone I’ve met who says that always end up being the most predictable, since they’re so focused on beating the puck until it slides into the goal that they don’t realize the score ratio is doubled against them~”

The two Fixers, once again, started their back-and-forth. Fiore let out a low exhale at the sight.

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Mozart MKII

Hi-dee ho, who’s in the house?

Kaede, hey! There you are.

How’d the meeting go?

Basically, Shuichi and Kyoko are gonna try and find wherever Zetsubou are camped out. In the meantime, we’re preparing to a siege, and I’ve been made one of the squad captains.

Which is why I’m here. Are you done looking at my spear? ‘Cause I’m gonna need it back.

Huh? Um...yeah, about that.

...

What did you do?

Wh-What’s with that judgmental glare!?

Miu...

Alright, fine! I may have made a couple of...upgrades to it?

I swear to god if you’ve added a vibration function or something.

No...wh-why would I do that? It’s a weapon, not a sex toy?

Miu, it’s you.

Ah yeah fair point.

You’ve got nothing to worry about Kaede. Miu and I worked on it together. I made sure no weird or out of place functions got added.

Mona!

Here it is. Just finished up with it.

What the heck!?

*Kaede retrieves her spear from Mona, only to see the weapon now looks completely different from how it did before.

Made a couple of design changes on top of the modifications. Hope they’re to your taste.

Yeah, this is definitely my color, but...what did you guys DO to it?

Well, after I got to see it in action, I realized something. The fact that you have a spear you can control using electromagnetic contraction is useful in and of itself, but there plenty of other things we can make it to do help you fight better with it.

So Miu and I got to work and gave it a bunch of new features.

See those keys near the head? Those are actual keys that you press to activate each function.

First of all, the mode it’s in right now is Polearm mode. You can activate it by pressing this key.

But if I press THIS key...

*Miu demonstrates, and as she presses the key, the sound of the piano rings out, and the bladed end of the polearm suddenly retracts, and a different mode protrudes.

This one is called Javelin mode. For pokey things!

Wow! So it changes into other kinds of weapons?

Well, it’s still a spear, just...different kinds.

Yeah. We assigned a mode for each key. Polearm mode, Javelin mode, and next is Bludgeon mode.

Bludgeon?

*Miu presses the third key and the sharp, needle-like javelin folds apart to reveal a half-sphere on a piston.

Watch.

*Mona takes the gauntlet and then the spear from Miu. She throws it towards a training dummy in the corner. The spear flies forward and the piston thrusts the tip outwards, leaving a large dent in the dummy. Mona calls the spear back to her.

That’s gonna leave a bruise.

Yeah, if you aim wrong, you might bust a lung or something.

Uh...

That was a joke. Anyway, the next mode is a little special.

*Mona presses the next button. This time, the bumper switches out to a megaphone shape.

What’s this one? Wait, isn’t this...?

Yep. This one is Hacking mode. It gives the weapon the same properties as the Future Foundation hacking guns, like the one’s Komaru Naegi uses. You hold it like this and fire it like a rifle.

It’s got all the same bullets too. We’ve got a list of them, but it might be best to just ask her for any tips on how to use it.

Awesome! And the last mode?

Ah, well...

*Mona presses the last key, which switches the weapon back to the bladed end again. However, this blade is bigger, and is a darker color.

What’s this one?

We didn’t give this one a name, since none of the ideas we came up with really worked. The working title is Kill mode though.

K-Kill mode? And...what does it do?

What do you think it does? The difference between this blade and the regular one is that the regular one doesn’t cut as deeply. In hectic situations like a fight to the death, you can use this one to...you know...

*Mona makes a swiping motion across her neck.

No. Not happening. I’m not gonna use this thing to kill anyone.

I figured you’d say that. To be honest, I only installed it as a precautionary measure.

Aside from the new functions, it’s retained all the old one’s. I’m trying to see if there’s a way you can control it without the big ugly glove, but you’re gonna have to give me more time with it for that.

And there you have it. The Mozart MK2.

Mozart MK2? What happened to the Mozart MK1?

Wasn’t that what it was called before?

I never named it that.

What? But Mii-Yu told me you named it the Mozart!

I never named it that, I just said I wonder if I could use the keys to PLAY Mozart Menuet No.1 K.1.

Still though, Mozart’s a good name for it, so I think I’ll stick with it.

Oh...good...That’s pretty embarrassing. I can never tell what Mii-Yu means literally or figuratively.

Still, this is amazing Mona! I was gone for like...what? A few hours? And you already accomplished all that!?

With Miu helping me, it was a lot easier.

Aw, thanks.

Sounds like you’ve got a good thing going for you Kaede.

*Everyone turns to see Rantaro enter the room.

Rantaro...

Hello Kaede. Apologies, I brought Rantaro here.

Just wanted to deliver a quick message. Shuichi’s headed out now, and he wanted me to let you know that he said bye. 

And that if he doesn’t get back safely, he’s counting on you to come and rescue him.

Well, I owe him that much at least. Thanks.

No problem. I can sense that you’re not exactly welcoming of me right now, so I’ll take my leave for the time being.

Wait just one moment.

*Before Rantaro can leave, Miu stops him.

Yeah? What is it?

...We didn’t get much of a chance to talk when you showed up randomly. I’ve got a question I need to ask.

*Miu, with a stern expression, strides up to Rantaro.

Is it true? That you’re the one who programmed Mii-Yu?

...

...

...

...Yes, that’s right. 

Mii-Yu is from our universe. Me and an old friend created her.

Uh-huh? And when did you create her? What kind of circumstance would lead you to wanting to make a robot?

...When did I do it?

That’s what I asked.

Well...It was actually during the 52nd Killing Game. Me and Mii-Yu’s other creator, Kojima, built her as a joint project during that time.

So Mii-Yu was born during a killing game?

No Mona, she was CREATED during a killing game. “Born” would imply she exists as a result of love.

But this smug asshole doesn’t see her as anything more than a mindless machine.

That’s not really true. Artificial Intelligence still counts as intelligence to me. It’s just not one that can really stand to learn on it’s own.

SHE is far more sophisticated than you give her credit for! Maybe she didn’t know how to learn when you made her, but she’s LEARNED how to learn.

...You seem to have taken quite a liking to her.

Oh, you think? Nah, must be your eyes playing tricks on you.

Regardless, is that your question? You wanted to affirm who, when and how Mii-Yu was built?

No...I want to know WHY she was built...

...!?

*Miu looms close to Rantaro’s face, threateningly.

Miu, please, don’t!

What did you build her for Rantaro? And why are you turning your back on your own creation like this?

What the fuck did you DO to her...!?

...

...

...

...

...

*Rantaro doesn’t respond.

You’re not gonna answer me, are you?

...

...If you crave the answers so much, then I ask that you give me a little bit of time.

It may sound like I’m dodging the question, but I feel like regardless of what answer I give you, your opinion of me will worsen. And I’m well aware that it’s an all time low right now, given the recent revelations.

You don’t have to like me Miu, but I need you to trust me for the time being. I’d rather not answer too many questions while risking that.

...

Fine. To be honest, I don’t HAVE to know the answer. Even if you never tell me, that’s alright too. 

What I care about is Mii-Yu right now, not whatever bullshit she did back when she was with you. 

If you want me to rely on you for the coming future Rantaro, I will. I don’t have much of a choice. But in exchange, I want you to promise ME something.

Oh yeah? What’s that?

*Miu pulls away and points at Rantaro.

You stay the FUCK away from her from now on. If I see you approaching her without my permission, I’m gonna shove a railgun up your ass and fire it.

Miu...

...I don’t have any reason to associate with her from this point on. She’s all yours.

*Rantaro exaunts.

...Fucking ass...! 

[puckbees]

TEXTURE. FOR ASK GAME. IVE TRIED TO SEND THIS ASK 2 TIMES NOW

[Gives you a high five as you sink into the tumblr background]

"texture: Does your OC favor any specific kinds of cloth or textures? Is there anything they can't wear or don't like? What sort of fabrics do they prefer?"

So I'm pulling out ace and eira for this one because theyre on the mind lately.

Eira goes for thick but breathable fabrics, as her job involves a lot of moving around. She cant really stand more plasticy feeling materials like vinyl or latex, as they stick too closely to her. Things like rubber raincoats are also a no-go because they bunch up in awkward ways. Most of her clothing also has the tags cut off because of the itching feeling they produce.

The one exception to her whole breathable fabric rule is a leather jacket she has for the rain, as well as protection.

Ace on the other hand doesnt really have any issues with fabric textures, and in the rare case they do they usually just put a layer of something comfortable underneath. They dont mind skintight clothes as much as eira, especially in more casual situations, so their wardrobe has a lot more uh. "shine" to it. They also cut the tags off clothing though its more of a precautionary measure for when theyre on the job than any textural issue

[gfmima]

category : ツイステッドワンダーランド work title : the results of a messy love potion disaster

it was obvious from the get-go, and to anyone with working eyes, that he had the biggest and dumbest crush on you. to be fair, it wasn’t a well-hidden secret. compared to how azul treated the general student body, he treated you way differently. he was kinder, spoke softer, and acted gentler… it gave those who were used to his slimy business ways the heebie-jeebies.

regardless, he would never take the gamble of confessing to you. he was afraid. what if he read the situation wrong? what if he mistook your kind acts for love? what if you reject him? or worse, what if you do accept his confession then go leave him once you see he wasn’t what he made himself out to be? then what?

today wad another day of his friends enduring his continual fawning over you before descending into a mopey state inside his office like a chump. by that point, floyd was at the ends of his wits. it was a never-ending cycle of wallowing in his own pity and he was tired.

so, can anyone blame him for slipping a drop or two of truth potion in azul’s morning tea?

the effects were intriguing to say the least. he hadn’t grown aware of what was happening until he saw you in the hallway and blurted out how pretty you look to today. every student within his vicinity whipped their heads towards him and their reactions were priceless; they were wide-eyes and and jaw slacked. it was only then did azul realize there was something wrong, something very wrong.

with a bit of sleuthing done during his break, he was able to deduce that it was the work of magic!

as a precautionary measure, he avoided you like the plague. if he saw you approaching him, he’d walk in the opposite direction. he also stayed in areas you didn’t frequently. it hurt to see you upset thanks to his actions. he didn’t intend to cause you any pain, but it had to be done. his dignity was on the line here!

it was only when the day drew to a close did he decide that his pride wasn’t worth hurting you anymore.

“if i tell you…” azul wrung his fingers to pacify his nerves. “if i tell you how i truly feel when i’m around you, would you laugh at me?” he airs out a shaky breath when you grabbed his hand and squeezed it, wordlessly reassuring him as best as you can.

you shook your head. “never. i care about you, azul… you do know that… right? whatever it is you want to tell me, i swear it won’t change anything, especially how i see you!”

he stayed silent.

you didn’t press him to a reply. you figured he needed some time to find the right words to convey his thoughts. the wait was worth it in the end.

“i can’t help but smile as if everything is going to be alright when i’m with you…” he started, “i can’t seem to get you off my mind! and i honestly don’t think i want to. what i’m trying to is…” he took your other hand in his and finally said:

“i feel something i’ve never felt with anyone but you before and i believe it’s because i’m in love with you.”

��i-i, uh, i didn’t know you felt this way about me.” azul’s grip went slack and you inwardly cursed at yourself for your poor phrasing. you made sure to secure your hold on him to prevent him from slipping away. “i’m really, really happy you told me because, um, i feel the same way.”

azul stood still. were his ears deceiving him? was he hearing things? he snaps out of his reverie when you pull him closer until he was fully enveloped in your embrace. his face turned pink at the contact and when you guided his arms to wrap around your body.

“thank you for reciprocating my feelings,” he whispered into your ear, his body relaxed into your touch and he nestled his head in the crook of your neck.

an minor accident occurred during potionology class. kalim and jamil were in the middle of recreating the potion crewel taught them when the table behind them grabbed the wrong ingredient and it erupted into an explosive mess that affected the surrounding tables.

since jamil was by the ingredient inventory, finding the next component for them, it only affected kalim and a few other students. it ended with all of them at the clinic to be checked for side effects and the idiots behind it tasked with cleaning duty for a whole month.

the nurse didn’t observe anything and cleared kalim. it went under everyone’s noses. no one, not even jamil suspecting a thing because he didn’t act different. the truth potion didn’t have an effect on him since he already spoke his mind. there was no filter to remove where there was no filter in the very beginning.

it only caught jamil’s attention after he started making bold advances towards you. kalim was shameless about his feelings for you in the past, however, this was on a new level and it was embarrassing. he couldn’t stomach to watch him make a fool of himself in front of you.

it was too much. 

currently, kalim held your hand close to his chest as he said loud enough for everyone to hear. “i like being around you… i like it when when you’re happy! your smile — it never fails to makes me smile too, a whole lot. i like your face… have i complimented your beauty yet?”

jamil cringed.

he sprinted over to where you stood and steered him far, far away before he dug himself a deeper hole. he covers a hand over his mouth, and sheepishly excused, “i apologize for his behavior. please don’t hold it against him. an accident occurred during potionology class; and well, you now know the rest.”

“you don’t have to worry about him. i heard from the nurse the effects are expected to subside by tomorrow morning,” he then pulled his friend to the other direction, leading him to a different area of the campus.

even from a distance, you could still catch kalim animatedly waving you farewell. you couldn’t stifle your laugh when you saw him trying to wiggle out of jamil’s hold.

the very next day, you receive a series of six knocks on your door and open it to find none other than the duo from yesterday. in front of you stood kalim, who seemed nervous and right behind him was a large and, most likely, expensive bouquet in jamil’s hands alongside a box of chocolates.

“i’m really, really sorry for what happened yesterday. i must have made you uncomfortable with the things i said. please forgive me?”

you were frazzled. too many things were happening too fast at the same time. you barely found the words to answer and unfortunately, from his perspective, your silence came off… wrong.

“don’t be mad at me anymore!” he begged, crying out your name, “i’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness if… if that’s what you w—”

“kalim… kalim? …kalim!” you yelled, bringing him out of his stupor, “i-i was never mad at you. i was just taken aback by the grand gesture, is all.”

“ah, what wonderful news! this deserves a feast!”

[covertblizzard]

With so many “How would Bruce react to Jason just appearing alive again?” stories, I’m surprised there has never been reference to this scene because this gives a literal direct answer to that question.

Knock him out

X-ray every bone in his body

Give him multiple cat-scans (or bat-scans? I mean... Bruce didn’t answer Steph’s question about that)

Contemplate how he would perform more invasive procedures if he had the proper medical training

Cut him open to ensure that he was, in fact, the genuine article

Criticise all his missing scars and injuries, comparing them with existing records (because Jason has a lot missing from the Lazarus pit too after all)

(Get punched in the face)

Can we also just appreciate Steph? She has like so many golden lines from just this scene ALONE!

Isn’t there some kind of law about NOT performing autopsies on people until they’re dead?

He’s BREATHING, last I heard. When you breathe, you’re considered alive.

That he’s better at dodging flames than you?

Records? Oh, you mean the dirt you collected on the weaknesses of your “friends” in the Justice League? The info that Rasta-guy used against them when... You mean those records? (Also, Steph calling him Rasta-guy... this should TOTALLY be reference more in fanon what the heck. Just think of the potential of Steph constantly calling him Rasta-guy to Tim and Damian’s faces.)

Uh huh (in response to Bruce saying the records were for “precautionary measure” in case they went rogue)

If you had any sense, you wouldn’t be dressed LIKE THAT. (This is in response to Bruce saying he should have sent her packing with Tim and Alfred, which implies that for some reason, Steph got to stay even though everyone else got sent away?? Why????)

Bruce snarking Steph a few times, damn she really brings it out of him??

You’re here to observe, Stephanie. Not to make observations.

And I thought TIM was chatty.

My father took the Hippocratic Oath, not me.

Then again, he DOES have Oliver’s right hook. (the bonus of how this would easily fit with Jason being examined does not escape me and is extremely amusing)

Finally, of course, I would just like a moment of appreciation for Bruce standing like that looking vaguely babygirl or something

[wolf359transcripts]

Wolf 359 Season 1 Episode 9 - “The Empty Man Cometh”

[intro music]

Welcome to Wolf 359.

Eiffel: This is the audio log of Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, recording from the comms room of the USS Hephaestus Station. Welcome to day five thirty of our little camping trip to the Leo constellation.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: And, you’re just in time for today’s weather.

Hera: [over announcement system] Attention, crew members. It seems that the ion wind cluster that I’ve been monitoring for the past twelve hours is veering towards us after all.

Eiffel: [sighs in frustration] Balls.

Hera: I hoped to avoid any direct contact with this anomaly but, its path is shifting faster than I can adjust our trajectory. And it’s now in a direct intercept vector. Please take a moment to ensure that all precautionary measures we discussed earlier have been properly implemented. The interior environment of the Hephaestus should remain largely undisturbed, but brace yourselves for light turbulence and impaired functionality in some of our electrical systems for the next three and a half hours. Thank you.

[announcement chime]

Eiffel: I swear to god. If it’s not a passing comet, it’s a solar flare. If it’s not a flare, it’s a geomagnetic storm. Now it’s an ion wind! Who knows there could be so much freaking weather without an atmosphere?

[door opening]

Minkowski: Eiffel. You locked down the solar panels this afternoon, right? I want to make sure that we’re ready for whatever this ion wind thing can throw our way.

Eiffel: Can we... ever really be... ready for anything, Commander?

Minkowski: I just want to know if we’re safe.

Eiffel: Define... safe.

Minkowski: Eiffel, come on. It’s a simple question.

Eiffel: Or... is it?

[pause]

Minkowski: Are you done now?

Eiffel: Yeah, I think it ran its course.

Minkowski: Did you have fun?

Eiffel: Eh... not really. Low hanging fruit. But yeah, I closed up the panels this morning, and double-checked to make sure they’re set about an hour ago. Hatches are battened down.

Minkowski: Oh. Good. Might just get through this without too much damage.

Eiffel: Riders on the storm, man. Riders on the storm.

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Eiffel: Woah, haven’t heard that one in a while.

Minkowski: What is that?

Eiffel: Pulse beacon relay receptor. Basically, one way space fax. Looks like something’s coming down the pipeline from out friends over at Canaveral.

Minkowski: We’re getting a message from Command?

Eiffel: It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Whatever happened to those weekly calls from mom and dad?

Minkowski: What’s it say?

Eiffel: Decoding trans-galactic transmissions ain’t like dustin’ crops, farm girl. Give me a moment.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Here we go, let’s see. [clears throat] “The golden rose is ready for melting. Proceed with designation alpha. Beware, five, the empty man has awoken”?

[pause]

Minkowski: What? Gimme that. Well that makes no sense. You must have transcoded it wrong.

Eiffel: Uh-uh. Well I won’t deny that’s totally something that could theoretically happen, if there’d been a transcription error, we wouldn’t be looking at words. We’d have like, I don’t know, random strings of ampersands and sevens. I don’t know what they’re playing at. This is the message Command wanted us to have.

Minkowski: But it makes no sense.

Eiffel: Uh, yeah. I’m kind of relieved we agree about that.

Minkowski: Well, can we radio them and ask for a clarification?

Eiffel: Unfortunately, the good folks at Goddard Futuristics spared every expense when they put this boat together. We only get high-speed cable vision for the incoming. We’re still on dial-up for the outgoing. We can send something, but it’ll take about two weeks to get a message back to Earth. And that’s if this ion thing doesn’t slow it down.

Minkowski: So then, what the hell are we supposed to do with this?

Eiffel: Hang on, I’ve got an idea.

[open intercom buzz]

Eiffel: Dr. Hilbert, you copy?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Loud and clear, Eiffel. What is it?

Eiffel: The words “golden rose”, or “designation alpha”, mean anything to you?

Hilbert: [over intercom] What? Why?

Eiffel: We just got a weird-ass telex from Command, we’re trying to make heads or tails of it.

Minkowski: Read him the other thing, the thing about the man.

Eiffel: Oh yeah, uh... “The empty man has awoken.” Ring any gongs?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Afraid not, Eiffel. Not entirely sure what that could be a reference to.

Eiffel: Hm, well, worth a shot.

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Eiffel: Oh, uh, un momento, por favor, Doctor Hilberto. Looks like we’re getting another wire.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Alright, let’s see. “The Andromedas are broken. The northern light should be reversed. Alert four. The empty man approaches.” [pause] Have like a whole bunch of drugs been made legal while we’ve been up here? Am I missing out on that?

Minkowski: Alright. Hang on. Let’s look at this thing rationally. So the first two sentences of both of those messages make completely no sense, right?

Hilbert: [over intercom] Right.

Eiffel: Right.

Minkowski: Right. But then second halves followed a pattern. It’s a warning. Then something about this, “empty man”. Whatever that is.

Eiffel: Yeah. And then there’s the numbers. Five on the first one, and four on the second one.

Hilbert: [over intercom] A countdown, maybe?

Eiffel: What happens when we run out of numbers? [pause] The empty man... cometh?

[pause]

Minkowski: Look. For the time being, we have no idea what these messages mean, so let’s not get worked up about them. If Command is trying to... warn us about something, there’s not much we can do about it just from these messages. So let’s focus on what we do know is real, like this ion cloud that we’re about to go through, alright?

Eiffel: Yeah.

Hilbert: [over intercom] Indeed.

Eiffel: Good plan.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [clears throat] “The frozen pages are blank. Decide what to do with the time that is given to you. Emergency three. The empty man hungers.”

[pause]

Minkowski: On... second thought... I’m gonna inspect the armoury to make sure that all of our stores are in good working order.

Hilbert: [over intercom] And I’m going to run few security checks on our airlock perimeter.

Eiffel: Right. Yeah. Good plans. I’m just gonna... uh, hold down the fort here. I guess. Um, one second, dear listeners.

[two static bursts]

Eiffel: Hi again folks. It’s been about three hours since I turned off the recorder, and things have been pretty… quiet. Minkowski and Hilbert have been checking the station’s systems, making sure that nothing is too far out of the norm. [pause] They’ve locked up all of the airlocks, and access points, so we should be... pretty safe? Based on our… limited perception of safety.

[door opens and closes]

Minkowski: Alright, just finished our third sweep through the station, and everything is locked up tight.

Hilbert: The sensory alarm system is calibrated to its most sensitive setting. If anything other than ourselves moves throughout the station, we should know about it.

Minkowski: And, I’ve retrieved two of the handguns from the armoury, so if and when this “empty man” thing shows up, we should be ready for it.

Eiffel: Only two guns? There’s three of us.

Minkowski: Hilbert’s not a trained marksman, and I’m not putting a gun in the hand of a civilian just yet. It’s you and me, Doug.

Eiffel: Oh great. The full hoo-ah.

[ship creaks]

Eiffel: What the hell was that?

Minkowski: Easy, Eiffel. We’re hitting the worst of the ion winds. That’s our scheduled turbulence. How’re you doing, Hera?

Hera: A-Acceptable, Commander, although certain systems are beginning to show signs of strain.

Minkowski: Do your best to keep things under control. Let us know if anything goes seriously wrong.

Eiffel: Hey, on the plus side, at least we haven’t had any other messages from Command, so maybe this whole thing is just blown –

[machine begins rapidly plinking]

Hilbert: You had to say something. You had to open your mouth.

[machine finishes plinking and prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [sighs] “The broken flower is in the vase. Don’t listen to your eyes. Danger. Two. The empty man sees you.” [pause] Okay, officially now, what the hell? What’s coming towards us? What – What is this apparently indescribable thing?

Minkowski: Don’t freak. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re still on a space station, eight light-years away from Earth, things can’t just show up on our doorstep.

Eiffel: You know, Commander, that would be a pretty good argument, if we didn’t have a crazy plant monster living in our air vents! Or, if we didn’t get weird whispers when we lost power! Honestly, there’s a lot of stuff that goes down around here that really shouldn’t be possible, but here we are!

Hilbert: Hera! Are there any objects or crafts on approach vector towards the Hephaestus?

Hera: ... No, Dr. Hilbert. Not... at the moment.

Minkowski: Hera? You don’t sound very confident.

Hera: Well, the ion winds are interfering with my sensory instruments, and my visibility of the airspace around the Hephaestus is down to eighty-one percent. Nothing is showing up on my sensory input, but I’m working with blind spots. [pause] However, the possibility of an object being nearby is... mathematically unlikely.

Eiffel: Mathematically unlikely? That’s the best we can do right now?

Hera: I’m sorry, I’m dealing with a rather extreme weather condition here. And a boarding party isn’t exactly something I prepped for this morning. Visibility down to fifty-six percent.

Eiffel: [sighs] This just keeps getting better and better.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: “There’s no way out. There’s no way out. But there is a way in. Danger. One. The empty man shall knock.”

[pause]

Eiffel and Minkowski, at once: Hera?

Hera: Still at zero sensory contact. Visibility down to thirty-seven percent.

Eiffel: Is there... anything we can do to get out of here? Can we... put the station in reverse and back out of this cloud, or something?

Minkowski: Hera’s already using all of her engine power to compensate for the ion winds. If we tried to change course now, we might end up in –

Hilbert: [whispered] Shh! Quiet! Don’t you hear that?

[distant sound of rhythmic creaking]

Eiffel: What was that?

Hilbert: Could just be side effect of the ion winds. We’re going through the worst of it now. It might be exerting enough energy on the ship to cause temperature fluctuation. It could just be metal in the ship’s hull expanding a bit.

Eiffel. There are a lot of “could”s in that explanation, Doctor.

Minkowski: [whispered] Hera. Is anything going on with our hull?

Hera: ... Not... as far as I can tell, Commander, but visibility is down to nine percent. I’m basically flying blind for the next few minutes.

[hiss of escaping air]

Hilbert: [whispered] Just the Hephaestus compensating for the weather conditions. Atmospheric regulators, parametric stabilisers, all just doing their job. It’s all regular noises in process of keeping interior of the Hephaestus warm and stable environment.

Minkowski: [whispered] Are... you... sure about that, Doctor?

Hilbert: [whispered]...No. But I like the sound of my voice better than the sounds of what’s going on out there.

[rhythmic clinking of metal]

Minkowski: [whispered] Hilbert. Thoughts?

Hilbert: [whispered] Well. That sounded like one of two things. Option one: simply the hull cooling after coming into contact with a... unusually warm pocket of gas that’s been swept up in the wake of the ion winds.

Eiffel: [whispered] What are the odds of that being the case, Doctor?

[pause]

Hilbert: [whispered] Within the realm of the possible? Barely.

[rhythmic clinking of metal]

[pause]

Minkowski: [whispered] What’s the other option?

Hilbert: [whispered] Something’s walking on the outside of the Hephaestus.

Eiffel: [whispered] Oh! It’s him! It’s definitely him!

Minkowski: [whispered] Shh! Stop that! We don’t know that, Eiffel! Listen to Dr. Hilbert, it could just be the station reacting to the ion cloud. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation here.

Eiffel: [whispered] Come on, Commander. After all the crazy wabba-jabba we’ve seen on here? And with Command breaking radio silence for the first time in months to warn us? Yes. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation! And it is that the empty, hungry thing is out there right now! About to go big, bad wolf on our straw house!

Minkowski: [whispered] Hera. There’s nothing moving inside the station aside from the three of us, right?

Hera: That’s correct, Commander.

Minkowski: [whispered] And all of the entrances to the station are still closed, right?

Hera: Rig- uh, ah, yes, sure! Probably?

Minkowski: [whispered] Probably?

Hera: I-I... I’m having some trouble connecting to aft deck airlock number three. I’m getting some low-level electromagnetic interference. Climate and pressure controls register as normal, but... I cannot confirm that the airlock has not been opened.

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: [whispered] “Zero. The empty man is with you. Extreme danger. Zero. The empty man is with you. Extreme danger.” That’s all it says.

[long pause]

[hiss of escaping air]

[distant tapping noise]

Hera: Not to alarm you all, but my systems indicate a power fluctuation is immin – [power cuts]

Minkowski: Right!

[crew shouting over each other frantically]

Hera: Hold on, hold on! Hold on! Lights back to nominal in exactly one second!

[sound of powering up]

[machine rapidly plinks, then prints]

[paper tears]

Eiffel: Oh god damn it!

Minkowski: What?

Eiffel: You have got to be kidding me!

Hilbert: What?

Eiffel: Those sons of bitches!

Minkowski and Hilbert, at once: What?

Eiffel: [exhales angrily] “The preceding six pulse beacon relays that you’ve received, have been part of a psychological experiment. Please disregard the content of these messages. And return to regular operational activities as soon as possible. Please record, and clearly label, any unusual crew behaviour, deviation from protocol, or undue lack of decorum that resulted on account of the transmission of these messages in your daily logs. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Hera: Well. Following that, this is going to seem a lot less sexy. But I’m happy to report that we’re finally starting to move past the ion wind cluster. Visibility is returning to normal, and systems are stabilising. I can confirm that there are no outside presences, or lifeforms with any degree of nutritional insufficiency at this time.

Minkowski: Thank you, Hera.

Eiffel: Those... bastards! How dare they put us through something like that? It’s cruel! And sick! And… other adjectives! What kind of person is deranged enough to call that an experiment?

Minkowski: Relax. We’ve all had enough excitement for one evening. Come on, let’s all just take a moment to cool off, gather ourselves, and... really reflect on how horrible what was just done to us was.

Eiffel: Commander, you’re not going to just... leave things at that, are you?

Minkowski: Oh don’t worry. I think you’ll find that – what did you say it was? Two weeks? Two weeks from tomorrow, the folks at Command are going to get a fantastically worded message from the three of us. Telling them exactly what we thought of their little test. I just wouldn’t want to spoil something like that by rushing into it. I think, gentlemen, we need a proper night’s sleep to really let our anger reach its full potential.

Hilbert: I concur wholeheartedly, Commander. If you require any sentiments beyond reach of the English language, I am happy to supply alternatives in Russian, Norwegian, German, Swedish, or Afrikaans.

Eiffel: Hey kids, I’ll log it in all six.

Minkowski: Sounds good. Goodnight, Eiffel. Doctor.

Hilbert: Goodnight all.

[door opens]

Eiffel: Goodnight.

[door closes]

Eiffel: Aw hell, speaking of logs. I guess you caught all of that, so... You might be able to pick up on the effect your twisted experiment had on us. Hint. It. Was. Awful! Sorry if things got a bit... crazy for a while there, dear listeners, but... you see the kind of things we have to deal with! And I used to complain about my boss at Pizza Hut. Anyway, from the USS Hephaestus Station, this is Communications Officer Doug Eiffel, signing off. Goodnight, folks.

[outro music]

This has been Wolf 359, written and directed by Gabriel Urbina. The roles of Eiffel and Hilbert were played by Zach Valenti. The role of Minkowski was played by Emma Sherr-Ziarko. And the role of Hera was played by Michaela Swee. Original music by Alan Rodi, and audio recording by Jared Paul. If you enjoyed tonight’s episode, please consider taking a moment to leave a review on our iTunes page. Reviews will only be used to let other people know about the show. Not as the basis for a creepy… psychological experiment! We… promise. Visit us at wolf359.fm, or follow us on Twitter at @Wolf359Radio for more information on our show.

Transcript by @saltssaumure

[faulty-writes]

Me: sees thine holy writing: (°▽°)

Sees that you write lots for tenya: (^○^)

Me remembering that I’m a tenya simp: (*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)

Haha, something to cheer you day up ^-^

But can you write the most fluffiest fanfic for iida? Much thank

A fluffy fic you say? Well, this is what I present to you! Mainly inspired by this gif, interesting what gives you inspiration. But I hope you enjoy this, I tried to make it fluffy.

[ Tenya was normally attentive to those that needed it, however when you get a cut on your finger and Tenya insists he patch it up for you. Things get a little strange when you request a few more things from him. ]

A cough escapes as the dirt continues to float around you, your hero suit was covered in debris and a soft ache coursed through your shoulder. More than likely because you landed on it when you tried to outmaneuver the turbo hero, Ingenium.

But, most of the time you knew him as Tenya Iida. Class A had come to a mutual agreement to take part in extra training and had been granted permission to use Ground Omega by your teacher Shota Aizawa, but it seemed the training backfired.

“Y/n!” Tenya’s urgent voice came as you cradled your hand to your chest, but you held your index finger out. A bloody cut, about an inch or so, ran down the tip of your finger. Small droplets of red soaked into the ground below you and moments later, you felt a gust of wind.

It carried your hair and another cloud of dirt which made you turn your head and cough yet again. “Ah,” Tenya looked at you from behind the eyepiece of his helmet before he removed it completely, deciding to allow it to hang from the side of his hip instead.

His glasses were slightly tilted on the bridge of his nose, but that didn’t stop him from scanning you from head to toe. His arms were held up and bent slightly, fingers separated in a panic. Then a moment later, he dropped to his knees and began chopping his hand through the air.

“Y/n! Are you alright? My sincerest apologies!” his voice was slightly frantic as he begins to bow repeatedly and you couldn’t do much but look at him with slight amusement. Tenya always took things too seriously and it was humorous, but most of the time unnecessary.

It wasn’t right to expect one person to carry the consequence of other's actions or even their own, to some extent. But Tenya seemed to feel guilt over the smallest of things, including what had gone wrong during the training exercise and, “Y/n! Your finger!” Uraraka’s voice suddenly cut through the air.

“Huh?” you blinked and turned to look at her, Izuku was by her side and Eijirou next to him. “Hey, uh...do you need to see Recovery Girl?” the redhead questioned before letting out a wince as Katsuki smacked him in the back of the head.

“Shut the hell up!” the furious blond exclaimed before stomping his foot and placing his gloved hands on his hips. He turned to you, eyes narrowing on your finger. “Pff,” he then turned to walk away, “the extra is fine! Now come on! We’re here to train, damn it!” he growled through clenched teeth before using his quirk to blast off the ground.

“Hey wait!” Eijirou called after him, raising one of his hands in the air as if he could touch Katsuki before he stopped short. “Uh,” he looked between you, Tenya, Izuku, and Uraraka. “Sorry! I’ll catch you all later!” he said before he resumed running out of sight.

Uraraka frowned and turned to Izuku who stepped forward as Tenya focused his attention back on you. A gasp came when he noticed the state of your finger, “Y/n, may I…” he hesitated as he motioned to your hand. “Oh,” you looked at your cut before nodding and holding it out for him.

He grasped your wrist gently and was careful to avoid touching the cut as he held your finger between two of his own. “Hm, I see,” he released your hand and reached up to push his glasses back into place before standing on his feet.

“Midoriya, Ochako,” he said, effectively catching their attention. “I’m going to take Y/n back to the dormitory building, their cut doesn’t look too serious. However, I’d rather take precautionary measures to ensure it does not become infected or is otherwise untreated,” he placed his hands on his hips.

“Is that acceptable to the two of you?” he questioned and Izuku nodded. “Of course, it is! You’re such a good friend Iida, take care of them well!” Uraraka said with a smile. “Yeah, and it’s alright i-if...you don’t make it back to training. It’s only...practice after all,” Izuku confirmed before he looked at you.

“If you um, ever want to practice training again. I’m sure we can organize something,” he said and you smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you replied before watching the two of them walk away. “Iida, you don’t have to take care of my cut,” you knew that was rude to say considering Tenya seemed stern in his new objective to do exactly that.

You didn't bother looking at him, or his reaction to your words. Rather your attention was on the red liquid that still poured from the cut. “Forgive me, but I disagree.” he crossed his arms over his chest, a present frown now on his lips.

“It is my fault that you got injured, though be it a small cut. I take full responsibility and I will make this fault up to you,” he spoke proudly and his voice slightly deepened which caused a shiver to run down your spine. You glanced away hoping to hide your flushed expression.

There was always something about Tenya when he spoke in a certain tone, maybe you found it attractive. But you’d never tell him that. “Please allow me to carry you,” your head shot back in his direction. “W-What?” you questioned, clearly dumbfounded especially when you saw him smile.

Once more, he brought his hand up. Pressing his fingers against the metal plate of his suit. “Forgive me, perhaps that question is rather shocking and inappropriate without proper permission, allow me to make my intentions clear,” he said before bringing his hands to his sides.

“Will you please allow me permission to carry you to the Class A dormitory building?” he asked, his voice deepening once more and you felt your mouth get slightly dry. “Uh…” you swallowed hard, “I guess...you can,” you replied sheepishly and that’s all the confirmation Tenya needed.

Before you could register what was happening, you felt one arm brace the back of your knees and another pressing firmly across your shoulder blades. A squeak escaped when you realized you were being lifted and your arms snaked around Tenya’s neck, taking a firm grip.

“Apologies, I do not mean to frighten you. But please know, I would never drop nor purposely hurt you. You are safe within my arms,” he stated as he looked at you. “Hm!?” your reaction wasn’t exactly voluntary and neither was the pink-tinted color coming to your cheeks which Tenya noticed.

“Are you alright? Do you feel ill!?” he questioned in a frantic manner, leaning dangerously close to you. “I...I-I’m fine!” you managed to squeak out which caused Tenya to narrow his eyes. “Are you certa-” you interrupted him by nodding your head, but you knew he didn’t believe you.

Still, you were relieved when he finally leaned away. Giving you a chance to breathe, the dull ache from your finger somewhat brings you back to reality along with the rumbling sound of Tenya’s engines. “Please hold on tight, I will not drop you as your safety is my number one concern as of this moment,” he reassured you, completely oblivious to the fact he was making your heart race.

But that changed the moment he kicked off the ground and your world blurred. The wind felt as though it were piercing right through you and your hair whipped around violently. It was a little pathetic, but you found yourself curling into Tenya.

Partly trying to block the wind from affecting you while your stomach continued to twist slightly, unused to the high speeds Tenya could reach. While it felt like moments had passed by, in a matter of seconds you were closing in on the dormitory building.

The wind got less intense as Tenya slowed down and you lifted your head to look at him, listening to those soft pants that left his mouth. “Tenya…?” you questioned, and watched as he turned his attention on you.

“Hm, yes?” he responded, those soft pants of his continuing to fill the air. “Oh...um nothing,” you said before deciding to focus on the front porch of the dormitory instead. But, you should have known better. ‘Nothing’ wasn’t an answer that could or would satisfy Tenya.

“Are you most certain? You do not have to be afraid to ask a question even if the subject of which concerns me, you, or something unrelated," he began, once more dropping down to that serious tone of his.

"I am more than happy to provide an answer as your classmate, class president, and dear friend,” you felt your heart sink as he began to slowly walk up the stairs, and with each step, you could feel the pressure of his fingertips digging into the skin of your shoulder.

“I know…” you replied as you pressed your hand to his chest, feeling how warm the metal had gotten due to his run. It made you wonder if Tenya was sweating on the inside of his hero suit or if he had some type of cooling system similar to the ones in his boots that prevented his engines from overheating.

“Just...thank you,” the words came out in a shy whisper just before you glanced away. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble for me, it’s only a little cut,” you reminded him, but Tenya shook his head.

“I am afraid you got harmed as a direct result of my poorly timed actions, perhaps I was not fully comprehending or registering them during our training. But such behavior is unbefitting of a hero, especially toward someone they care deeply for," he said as he turned back to look at you, eyebrows slanted in another serious expression.

You parted your lips slightly, letting out a soft almost inaudible noise as he continued to speak. "In addition, as I stated earlier. I will do what I must to right this fault I have committed,” those subtle noises now turned into a defeated sigh.

Tenya was admirable in some sense of the word but once more you found yourself wishing he wasn't so serious. Your thoughts were broken as he walked through the door and the eerie silence of the dorm came to attention. It was strange to see the place empty.

“I am going to take you to the restroom, does that sound acceptable?” he questioned and you jumped in his arms. “Uh…” a moment of hesitation came before you shook your head. “Oh, I mean! Uh, t-that’s fine!” you replied and yet again got a strange look from Tenya.

“Are you most certain you are well?” you latched onto your bottom lip, cursing yourself for your rather stupid response. But, you nodded. “Y-Yeah! Fine...just not used to being carried,” your explanation was accompanied by an awkward laugh that almost made you want to smack yourself in the face.

Especially as Tenya raised his eyebrow yet again which caused you to latch onto your bottom lip, silencing your laugh. “S-Sorry,” you replied before focusing your attention down the hall where Tenya took another turn before he came to a stop in front of the restroom door.

Despite the fact the dormitory was empty, Tenya carefully balanced you in his arms before he extended one hand out and knocked. Once he was sure the restroom was actually and truly empty, he slid the door open and stepped inside.

“Here we are,” he said as he slowly placed you onto the toilet. Ensuring the lid was down first as he didn’t want another uncomfortable or awkward situation to occur, much less put you in harm's way again.

“Forgive me, but may I excuse myself for a short moment? I wish to change into something more appropriate. I shall only be gone for five minutes,” he explained, yet again bowing as he rambled off. Your hands reached down, clenching to the outside of the toilet seat. You were mindful of your cut finger.

“Uh, sure Iida. N-No problem!” you said, knowing your cheeks were still warm and continuing to rise in heat. You tried taking a deep breath but ended up coughing a few times and tried to play it off by glancing around the bathroom.

Maybe if you distract your thoughts away from Tenya, you'd remain calm. But Tenya seemed rather confused by the fact you coughed and reached up to cup his chin, tapping it a few times as he observed you. He wanted to ask if you were alright, but perhaps you were still getting over the shock of what happened.

"Thank you, please remain here." he bowed politely before exiting the bathroom, leaving you alone for a few minutes. You fidgeted some and ran your hands up and down your thighs. Trying to get rid of the butterflies in your stomach before you glanced at your finger. It didn't look too bad, apart from the dried blood.

You may have gotten too lost in your thoughts considering you jumped when three loud knocks sounded, your hand immediately reached up to fist into the front of your hero suit. “Y/n,” came Tenya’s voice, “may I come in?” he questioned and you dropped your hand. But your heart was still racing from the small scare.

“Uh, yeah!” you replied and watched as the door slid open and Tenya walked in. You swallowed as you glanced over him from head to toe. He was now wearing a plain white top with an unbuttoned long-sleeved blue plaid shirt over it.

This was accompanied by loose jeans that were neatly folded up at his ankles. “Is something wrong?” he questioned, more than likely realizing that you were staring at him. “Ah! Oh no, no!” you said, waving your arms in front of you like mad.

“I just...um…” you paused and looked down, trying to figure out what you could possibly say. You reached up, rubbing the back of your head. “You l-look very nice!” you managed to stutter out which, in turn, surprised Tenya.

He took a half step back and his cheeks grew a faint red color. “Oh, I see. Thank you very much,” he stated, hands coming down press against the sides of his thighs and his shoulders squared. He gave another bow before he approached you, carefully kneeling down but not allowing himself to touch the floor.

Then he held his hand out, “May I see your injured finger?” he questioned and you stared at that awaiting hand before slowly reaching out for it. His touch was gentle but that firm urgency was still there as he looked over the cut and the small amount of dried blood that had stained your hand.

“Please wait a moment,” he said as he gently placed your hand back down, resting it against your thigh. You watched as he rose to his feet and walked to the nearby closet where he grabbed three hand towels. “I believe we need to properly clean your hand first,” he said just before turning on the faucet.

The sound of water hitting the porcelain surface echoed through the room and caused you to shift on the toilet seat. You watched as Tenya began to wash his hands before using one of the three towels to dry them off. He then tossed it into the nearby laundry basket, you watched as he wet another hand towel and turned to you.

Once more he kneeled in front of you and presented his hand which you took. “Please accept my apologies once again, and forgive my assumptions. But I believe you are uncomfortable in your current state," he said, referring to the fact you were still covered in dirt and there were some rips that now needed to be repaired on your hero suit.

He began to clean your hand, dripping a fair amount of water everywhere as he started with your knuckles and palm. You could see the dark smears of dirt against the white-colored towel and tensed up when Tenya took your finger.

Making sure he was using a clean part of the towel as he wiped the cut and dried blood away. He only paused for a moment to glance at you. “Forgive me, is it tender?” he questioned before his attention turned back to your finger.

The cut itself looked deep and irritated, the skin around the opening bright red and slightly inflamed. “Only when you touch it,” you responded. “I will be more gentle,” he promised before once again getting up.

He tossed the dirty towel into the laundry basket before washing his hands yet again and grabbed the last towel which he used to dry your hand off as opposed to his own. “I’m going to clean it properly now,” he stated before disposing of the last towel and turned back to the closet.

You could hear the slight rummaging sound, and soft clinks as Tenya pulled out the items one by one. A bag of cotton balls, a box of bandaids, disinfectant, and a single packet of antibacterial gel were now laid across the bathroom counter.

You blinked, “Iida, do you...really need all that to clean my cut?” you questioned and Tenya raised his eyebrow as he glanced over each item. He then brought his hand up to his chin, cupping it as he thought.

“Do you believe I missed something perhaps?” he questioned and you couldn’t help but chuckle which caught Tenya’s attention. “Pardon? Did I say something amusing?” you leaned back. “Oh,” that’s right, Tenya didn’t favor when others laughed at him or at least when he believed they were laughing at him.

“No, I...just wanted to say thank you, Iida,” it was best not to provoke him. Despite knowing that it would take more than a laugh or insult to break his serious and otherwise calm personality. Still, you didn't feel like starting an argument or confrontation with him.

“You’re quite welcome, however, I do not believe you should be giving me any form of thanks,” he said as he pulled out a cotton ball and proceeded to wet it with the disinfectant. “This may cause an uncomfortable stinging sensation," he said as he turned to you, the cotton ball held securely between his thumb and index finger.

"Please let me know if it becomes too much. I would not want to cause any further harm to you,” he said as he once again took your hand and began to gently dab the wounded area with the cotton ball. You watched as it fizzled and popped before a white foam began to fill the cut.

You clenched your jaw, it stung somewhat. But it wasn’t anything that could make you cry out. “It...doesn’t hurt that bad,” you responded and Tenya glanced at you, allowing a moment to pass before he nodded.

Then he turned his attention back to your finger, applying pressure to the cotton ball before dragging it along the length of the cut. “It only seems minorly irritated,” he noted before he got up once more and threw the dirty cotton ball into the trash.

He then carefully grabbed the small packet of antibacterial gel and poured a small amount onto a new cotton ball. “Please keep still,” you held your breath as he rubbed the gel around your cut, it was almost attractive watching Tenya like this.

But, he always had a tendency to be very caring. At least with those he considered to be close with. You wondered for a moment if that’s the only thing he saw you as or if there was any chance you could somehow make him see you in a different light.

Once he threw the last cotton ball away, he grabbed a bandaid and carefully unwrapped it. “Hold your finger out please,” he instructed and of course, you followed through. Extending your index finger out enough for him to carefully wrap the bandage around it.

“I believe that’s on correctly, does it feel too restrictive?” he questioned and you spread your fingers as you looked at the bandaid. You flexed your finger, making sure you could move it properly before you nodded.

“It’s fine Tenya…” you then looked over at the box of bandaids, “but…” you paused. “But?” Tenya questioned, pushing you to complete your sentence. “Are you unsatisfied?” he questioned as he stepped closer to you, invading your space.

You latched onto your lip, trying not to make a noise as Tenya leaned over. “Uh…” your breath hitched as his hand came to rest on your shoulder and he appeared to be looking you over. “Do you have any other injuries on your person I am not aware of?” he questioned.

“Pardon my touch,” he said before you felt his hand thread into your hair. You swallowed before leaning away, somewhat in a panic which was evident enough by the way you held your hands up. “N-No!” you suddenly exclaimed and Tenya immediately stepped back, creating a fair amount of distance between himself and you.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable, I did not mean to invade your personal space, and I-” you shook your head, stumbling to your feet. “I-Iida!” you stuttered out, “I was...I was just going to say that…” you blinked and lowered your hands to your sides.

Your gaze was to the floor and you knew he would notice how red your cheeks were. “Hm?” he reached up to grab the left side of his glasses, moving them slightly as if trying to correct his vision. “Then nothing is wrong?” you almost felt bad for confusing him and closed your eyes.

Another deep breath came before you spoke again, “I...just wanted another one,” you sheepishly said and lifted your head as you opened your eyes, catching Tenya’s confused expression. “I...I’m afraid I do not understand, you required one bandage for your cut,” he said as he raised his arm.

“Are you most certain you do not have another injury? I will not be angered if you state that you, in fact, do and require more medical attention!” you stepped back and watched him chop that hand through the air. It was such a repetitive movement.

But Tenya did it with ease, you wondered if his arm ever got sore. “Well, I…” you turned your head, once again looking away from the boy in front of you. “I would...feel better if I had another one,” you explained and Tenya blinked, his movements coming to a halt.

“I….are you certain it would make you feel better?” he questioned before you shyly glanced back at him, but remained silent as you nodded. Tenya’s eyebrows came down and you could hear a soft humming coming from the inside of his throat.

“Heh,” you gave a sheepish smile, maybe he was thinking too hard again? You slowly raised your hand, extending your bandaged finger out to him. “Hm?” such an action seemed to have caught his attention, but he was unsure of what he was supposed to do.

“Are...may I ask why you feel the need to present your finger?” he asked and you knew that there was a possibility of rejection or for Tenya to laugh at you for what you were about to ask next. “Well, a-actually can you…” the words you wanted to speak seemed stuck and Tenya stepped closer, reaching out to gently take your hand.

“Please, do not be afraid to ask me anything," he seemed to be repeating himself again. "I assure you, I would not find something you wish to say or ask to be humorous in any matter,” once more that deep tone was associated with his voice and it caused you to shiver.

You felt your mouth go dry, though you knew you could trust Tenya to keep his word. “O-Okay,” you said, though you knew your shaky voice held some uncertainty to it. “Would you...or c-can you...kiss it?” you questioned and almost immediately you felt him release your hand.

More than likely surprised by your bold question. “I...f-forgive me, I believe I must have misheard you. Please repeat your question,” you took note of Tenya’s wide eyes, clenched jaw, and overall unwillingness to go through with what you asked.

But you knew you’d never get anywhere if you didn’t push through the limitations in front of you. “I asked…” you began as you took a step forward, now standing only inches away from Tenya. You raised your hand to present your finger once more.

“Could you kiss my finger?” Tenya’s stiff posture seemed to soften, but you noticed how flushed he was. “I...I do not understand, I have taken the proper steps to clean it and you assured me you weren’t in any pain an-” you frowned before deciding to shove your hand in his face.

“Please Iida,” you might as well try begging. “I know you cleaned it and everything, but a kiss would make it feel better too,” you insisted and took note of the soft revving sound, more than likely coming from Tenya’s engines. Was he nervous? It certainly seemed that way, especially with how he stuttered out his response.

“I uh...I am afraid that’s too i-inappropriate and I do not b-believe even if this was a-appropriate in the context that would allow such an affectionate or o-otherwise romantic f-form of action t-that I would know h-how to-” you pressed your bandaged finger against his lips and tried to resist chuckling as you watched him tremble in response.

It was a surprise that his glasses weren’t fogging up with how deep red his cheeks were beginning to get. “It’s not inappropriate Iida,” you tried to reassure him. “It’s something that brings a lot of people comfort. It’s more of the thought behind the action. So please?” you questioned yet again as you removed your finger from his lips and held it out in hopes he’d follow through with doing what you wanted.

But you took note of how his eyebrows were slanted, and the way he looked at your finger as if it was something new and foreign to him. Actually, had Tenya ever done something like this before? Had he kissed anyone or anything?

You knew it wasn’t your place to ask, but you got a little concerned when you glanced down and watched as Tenya’s hands folded into loose fights which shook slightly. Then he brought those hands up, his palms facing out. His head was turned and his eyes slipped closed, he looked tense.

“If you continue to insist that you will feel better if I were to ‘kiss’ your finger. Then perhaps I have no choice,” he said, and you could tell he was a little annoyed as he lowered his hands and turned his head to face you once more.

But a sense of relief came when Tenya opened his eyes and reached up to gently take your hand. Then, he leaned forward. “I will try to be gentle, I can imagine your finger is still sore. Yes?” he questioned, but you were too busy watching as he guided your finger up to his mouth.

Then came the soft warmth of his lips which caused a tingle to course from the tip of your finger to the top of your head and down to the end of your toes. The faint echo of your pounding heart sounded in your ears and much like Tenya, you felt your cheeks heat up.

They were a dark shade of pink by the time Tenya pulled away. “I...trust your finger feels better now, yes?” he questioned and you swallowed, taking note of how his glasses were sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Uh...y-yeah...but,” you glanced back to the sink counter, “c-can I have another?” Tenya blinked. “A-Another? But I just followed through with kissing your finger as you requested and-” you shook your head. “No I mean...can I have another bandaid now?” you questioned as you pointed to the box that remained sitting on the counter.

Tenya frowned and gently released your hand before crossing his arms, “I believe one is quite enough for you,” he stated and you knew by his tone that you shouldn’t try to argue. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t. “Please?” you folded your hands together to resemble a begging position.

“Just one more!” he let out a soft growl. “I do not wish to waste the bandaids as our classmates might be in need of them as well,” he said before he reached over to take the box. “Come on Iida,” you decided to press as he turned to put the box of bandages back into the closet.

But, you reached out to grab his shoulder and a loud sigh came. The angry look he gave somewhat scared you, it was a rare sight to see Tenya scowl. “If you continue to insist yet again that this item is something that you need to feel better,” he began, “I will allow it for this one instance,” he said as he placed the bandages back onto the counter.

“But this is the last bandage, do you understand?” he said as he pulled one out, holding it between his fingers as he gave you a soft glare. “Uh…” you felt your stomach twist before you nodded. “Yeah, I understand,” you replied before Tenya began to peel back the paper that surrounded the bandage.

“Where would you like me to place this one?” he questioned, “Oh!” you hadn’t thought of that and quickly looked at your hand. “How about…” you held your hand in front of him, wiggling your ring finger. “Very well…” Tenya said as he stepped forward and yet again, wrapped a bandage around your finger.

You couldn’t help but smile as he turned to throw the excess paper away. “Thank you, Iida,” you said before looking at the box and quickly snatched another bandage out of it. You peeled off the outer wrapping and carelessly allowed it to fall to the floor.

“Hm?” Tenya glanced over his shoulder at you, almost suspiciously and you hid the bandage behind your back in hopes it would deter that suspicious glance of his. It seemed to fool him for the moment and he once more walked over to you.

It was almost embarrassing how tall Tenya was in comparison to yourself, but he was one of the tallest in your class. But at the same time, it was heartwarming. You know many outsiders could be intimidated by Tenya, but once you got to know him.

You’d find that he had a soft and caring side to him which was often perfectly balanced with his more serious and heroic side. Everything he did seemed to be with purpose and in a way that was admirable. “Allow me to walk you to your room,” he offered his arm for you to take and you glanced at.

“Actually Iida...um...I have something to tell you,” your fingers grazed across the bandage you held behind your back. “Hm?” he raised his eyebrow, “Of course, I assure you I am the most attentive listener,” you smiled, that’s kind of what you hoped for. You raised your free hand, using your finger to motion him to lean over.

He seemed confused at first but leaned down to your height as you wanted. You then brought your other hand forward, quickly peeling back the strips that covered the bottom side of the bandage. “Y/n!” Tenya exclaimed as if you committed some unforgivable sin, then came his hand.

Once more chopping through the air with urgency. “I believe I stated that I did not wish to waste any more bandages that are otherwise unnecessary!” you expected as much from Tenya and there was one thing you could do to stop him.

“Mm!” he suddenly flinched back when he realized the bandage you were previously holding was now placed over his lips. “Mmmm!” he mumbled, bringing his hands up to remove it but you quickly grabbed them which caused his eyes to widen.

You then offered a kind smile, though a few chuckles accompanied it before you leaned close. Pressing your lips against his mouth. Though that bandage did separate you from actually kissing his lips. But Tenya looked surprised, downright thrown off by your actions.

You knew there were countless thoughts running through his head, especially as you stepped away and proceeded to bow politely. “Thank you for saving me, Iida.” you grinned as you walked past him, taking some amusement in his flushed and furiously confused expression.

[plethora-of-imagines]

Burning Bright

AN: -

Word Count: 2436

Warnings: smut/lemon, wax play, sensation play

Description: DW Kinktober Day 2; Prompt: Sensation play The Master and you try out wax play for the first time.

Tag List: @c-s-stars @queerconfusionthings @how-masterful @truthbehindthemysteries

You couldn’t help but twitch and squirm in anticipation from your spot on the bed. Laying naked and waiting patiently was hardly a talent you possessed. The Master could attest to that with the number of times he had to tie you up to get through a punishment without squirming enough to risk a badly placed hit. Your nerves about the matter were not helping you to calm down either. The Master’s hands gently rubbed lotion into your skin, soothing you even if you didn’t see the connection between his actions and getting prepared for your dip into wax play.

He didn’t miss an inch of skin, showing equal attention to your breasts and your stomach. His affectionate and lavish attention allowed you to slowly reign in your nervous anticipation.

“Why the lotion Master?” You curiously questioned now that your mind wasn’t spiraling into a panic about what was to come.

“The lotion will help to get the cooled wax off with ease, making aftercare less stressful for the both of us. It also has the added benefit of being a precautionary measure in case you don’t like the sensation.”

Nerves returning at the mention of possibly not liking the feeling of hot wax on your body you uncomfortably shifted. Ever the attentive lover the Master noticed. His soft brown eyes gleaming with concern.

“My dear,” he hesitantly broached the subject, "perhaps we should try this again on a different day. You’re working yourself up to the point I fear you may be sick with worry.”

“No!” You almost yelled. “No, I really do want to try this. I always get like this with new kinks Master.”

You were shy in admitting this. He had never seen you like this before all full of nervous energy at the prospect of trying a new kink.

“I already knew I was into all of the other things we typically do... So this is something outside of my comfort zone, but I really do think I’ll like it.”

“Alright,” he conceded. “But you simply must calm yourself down, my dear! If you cannot relax enough to dismiss my concerns for your headspace I will stop this before it has even started.”

Finished with their task of rubbing the lotion fully into your skin the Master’s hands guided you to lay back down. Propped up by smooth silk pillows, the angle that you were laying at was chosen to ensure the wax would drip down your body and not all pool in one area.

Once you were settled down the Master lit the first candle. The dark black candle was held in place by a small ring stand, clearly stolen from his own lab for convenience. Beneath the candle was a small golden dish that you had seen on the Master’s desk. Normally it had been used to collect wax for sealing letters closed, so it was a perfect fit as an addition to your foray into wax play.

As the Master busied himself preparing the candle and ensuring it was safely burning your mind drifted off. Thinking back on what had inspired the two of you to try this new kink out. It had been an art exhibition with live models where you had watched an alien be made into an art piece with droplets of wax. The elite of high alien society often watched odd demonstrations of all sorts of things. Both you and the Master found yourselves more appreciative of the art exhibitions than the other types. The science ones were normally child’s play for the Master and the torture ones were too graphic for your tastes. 

The soft moans that the model had made as they were covered in wax and the image they made had captivated you. Your eyes unable to pull themselves away from the sight of wax slowly dripping down and then off their body onto the floor. The Master had only had eyes for your reaction. He had been the one to suggest trying it yourselves. After he extensively researched into how to make it safe for you, of course. You had eagerly agreed, the high of emotions from having seen it for the first time making any hesitations you normally would have had disappear. Now, with the moment so close to happening the nerves had appeared.

Your reminiscing was interrupted by the Master sitting down on the bed with you. You watched as he unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves. Exposing his forearms to you. The perfect image of a man in control of the situation.  As always you loved to watch him undress even the slightest bit. Time Lord modesty your personal enemy.

Shocking you the Master lifted the candle above his own skin, letting several drops fall onto the underside of his arm. Heart swelling with a warmth at how seriously he took your safety.

“Your arm, my dear?”

Less of a request and more of a demand, you quickly gave your arm over to him. Palm facing up, he pressed a kiss to your lifeline as the hand not holding onto the burning candle cradled yours. His head slowly lifting, looking deep into your eyes.

“You will let me know if the test drops are too hot.”

His voice was firm, strict even as he told you what you would do.

“Yes, Master. I will tell you if they are too much.”

He always wanted you to demonstrate that you understood what he said. If you didn’t fully respond, the scene would stop for a check-in. You didn’t want to give yourself a chance to back out now.

Time slowed down as you watched the first drop of wax slowly drip onto your skin. The heat was a lot to process, but it quickly subsided. Goosebumps covered your skin as you shivered in pleasure. Now you were eager to feel the sensation on the rest of your skin.

“Is this alright, my dear?” You nodded with no further prompting needed. “A verbal response, my dear.”

Oh right, you had literally just been thinking about the need for that. As you found your voice the Master placed the dripping candle back into its makeshift holder.

“Yes, Master. That was wonderful, please continue.”

“Remember to stay as still as you can, we wouldn’t want to end this pleasant moment of candlelight intimacy with misplaced wax.”

The small crucible of wax was held above your skin, tipped ever so slowly so as to give you time to anticipate the sensation the wax meeting your skin would have. Gasping as your back instinctively arched with the heat of the wax. The burning sensation rapidly changed to shivers of pleasure as the wax rapidly cooled on your skin. Looking down you saw the river of black wax covering the skin between your breasts reaching down to your stomach and stopping before your belly button. Your arching back having made the wax creep towards your breasts in bursts like fireworks.

“More please Master,” you begged.

“Patience is a virtue, my dear. One you will have to learn if we continue to enjoy wax play, it does take time for the wax to melt.”

Chastised you didn’t dare utter another word, waiting in eager anticipation for the next pour of wax. The next pours were smaller amounts, focused on covering the skin of your breasts. The wax covering your breast was thinner than the first pour had been, more care being taken to ensure that the sensitive skin of your breasts was not burned. It left you with a patch of exposed skin on the underside of your breasts, where the wax hadn’t traveled to fully.

His canvas now almost fully covered in black wax, the Master started to burn the gold candle. He had asked you to pick the colors to be used on your body as soon as he had finished researching what candles could be used. He had been as eager to try this as you were. The combination of black and gold had seemed perfect to you. Black being the color he wore the most and the gold matching the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes. Not that you had told him the reason for your choices. Even without the symbolism, you had in mind the color combination was a good one.

Without waiting too long for the gold candle wax to start dripping the Master held it above your skin. Letting it start to fall onto the already present wax. Dripping down your body until it cooled as a small drop of wax, ending its journey. Some of the droplets splattered as they hit your body, too small an amount to trail down your body. Leaving small circular marks dotting your wax-covered skin like freckles. You felt like a work of art. 

You giggled as the Master picked up a glass stir rod. Was he just raiding his lab for things to use?

“What’s the glass stir rod for Master?” You teased.

He fixed you with a playful glare as he responded, “I thought that some more control over where the wax dropped would help with the masterpiece we were making of your body, but if you’d rather I freehand the drops to make sure they trail down your body to cover your very sensitive nipples...”

“Uh nope, no the stir rod is fine!” You squealed. You did not think you were ready for the feeling of hot wax poured directly on your nipples.

Carefully the Master continued to drip wax onto you, making the cooling drips of wax aesthetically pleasing. You loved it, you felt stunning. All of the Master's attention to detail hyper-focused on you and you alone. Your pleasure, your beauty, your comfort, only you.

One last drop of wax trailed down your body like a shooting star across the galaxy. Reaching your stomach before it cooled, it was the largest droplet yet. With no warning, the Master pressed his signature ring into the hot wax on your body. Holding it in place until it cooled. Moaning wildly at the action, you felt so owned being marked, branded as the Master’s. 

You kept staring at the sign of his ownership over you. Not noticing that he had put the candles away until he was lifting you into his lap. Just holding you close as the wax fully cooled and hardened.

“I feel like you’ve made me into a masterpiece, a work of art to be admired by all.”

“You’ve always been a sight that inspired awe, my dear. Forgive me, however, if I selfishly hide you away from all others."

Reverently your fingertips brushed over the indentation the Master's signature ring had made in the gold wax, feather-light almost afraid to ruin it. 

"I belong to you Master."

"For as long as you want to, my dear."

You basked in the Master's affection, his hands exploring the still uncovered skin. All too soon you could feel the Master start to chip away at the cooled wax covering your body. A blunt-edged business card covered in a laminate-like material seemed to be his tool of choice. One of his previous aliases was the name stamped on the card.  Unexpectedly, to you, the sensation of the wax being removed was pleasurable. In a very different way than it being poured or dripped onto you was. Removing it reminded you of peeling off old paint in long strips. Just, oddly satisfying. You couldn't think of another way to describe it.

"You like this part a lot, don't you Master? The soothing, repetitive motion is meditative for you."

"Your reactions to all of the sensations you experienced were all entrancing. The sight of your body coming alive as the wax hit it, exquisite. But this moment, here with you in the quiet, held close in my arms. Yes, this is my favorite moment."

The last of the wax flicked off of your body with a flourish freed you to nestle face-first into the Master's soft silk dress shirt.

"Charmer," you muttered, hiding your face in his chest.

Stroking your hair, the Master began to gently start interrogating you. 

“Would you want to give this another try, my dear? Was it what you hoped it would be?”

Humming you tried to think of how to verbalize your feelings.

“I liked it, a lot. Over time I could feel the wax less, just due to the thickness of the layers already on me. Maybe next time we take that into account?”

Kissing the crown of your head the Master considered your words, “a simple enough request, my dear.”

You hesitated to bring up your next ideas, but it couldn’t hurt to ask. He could always just say no.

“Next time could we, maybe add some impact play, or use some ice as well?”

“We can certainly try and incorporate a spanking, my dear. A tried and true experience that we both enjoy thoroughly. As for the addition of ice, I hope you won’t mind my hesitation to include that in our play. At least in conjunction with wax,” he paused to shift you into a more comfortable position in his lap as he reached for something on the floor. “I don’t want to risk any shock to your nerves from the extreme temperature change.”

A warm and wet washcloth was being carefully rubbed over your still flushed skin. Eyes fluttering closed at the comfortable repetitive passed he was making up and down your skin. Twitching just a bit as he brushed over your nipples. They were very sensitive compared to the rest of your skin.

“Fair enough, Master,” you gave your delayed reply to his concerns. “Thank you.”

He chuckled before inquiring, “whatever could you be thanking me for, my darling?”

“Taking care of me like this.”

Something smooth and silky was maneuvered onto your body. Eyes opening just enough for a quick peek, it appeared to be some sort of silk slip. Mhm, it felt heavenly against your skin.

“My dear, there is no need to thank me for what is a privilege and pleasure to do.”

His hand slipped underneath the short hem of the dress he had put you in. Lifting you by your thighs and shifting you to lay next to him as he moved to lay down fully on the bed. Fixated on the feeling of the cold metal of his ring against your skin you let yourself drift back into a blissful afterglow. This was definitely worth enduring through the nerves, you couldn’t wait to do it again.

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.30

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 22, part 23, part 23.5, part 24, part 25, part 26, part 27, part 28, part 29

Masterlist to my other fics: here :) (that has not been updated for how many months now... proceed with caution~)

“Kurono.” Overhaul spoke up as he discarded red stained gloves. “You’re in charge while I’m gone. Something came up.”

“Are you going to her?” He asked as he accepted the gloves and threw them into a bin. Taking a disinfectant from the corner, he began to wipe a small area of the chair Eri had sat. The day was rather long and none of them had sufficient sleep.

While it was true that Overhaul had went home late at night, the shuffling of his footsteps was enough to peek Kurono’s interests. Knowing full well where he had come from, he assumed it was safe to spark up a conversation with Kai. Of course, there was a tinge of regret when he agreed to working on the bullets. A mere check up turned into an extensive fix of the small deadly items.

“She is asking for information regarding Tamisura.” The annoyance behind his mask was a little too obvious. He hated that woman with a passion.

“Tamisura? She’s part of the Fukuo Kai now?” Kurono was not expecting that news at all. “Isn’t she the loner type?”

“She is.” He sighed. “However, that woman was given a rather good portion of the Fukuo Kai’s members. If anything, she’s basking in the sudden power given to her. It won’t surprise me if she falls drunk to the sensation.”

“Have you interacted with her during those meetings?” Kurono asked as he locked the experiment room. The only sound echoing were his and Kai’s footsteps.

“Once. There have been many meetings to which I have chosen not to partake in.”

“Do they know?”

“No. It wouldn’t be fun if I gave them everything.” It wasn’t all a lie, though. He was never a huge fan of meeting with the other yakuzas. Even before the Shie Hassaikai was established, he strayed away from those gatherings. “I’ll be back before the night falls.”

“Alright.”

“See to it that Eri-chan eats. If not, force her.”

Kurono simply nodded and watched as Overhaul walked his way towards his car. If he were doing Shie Hassaikai business, he was sure he would have to drive him around but this time he was the one moving. It only meant he was going towards his only person of interest. Whether it was a good or bad thing, Kurono couldn’t tell. Brushing those thoughts aside, he went to the kitchen. The child would surely not eat whatever he would cook, but at least he followed orders.

The drive towards your apartment was uneventful. Occasionally, he would yawn and roll his shoulders. The night was rather long and not even that cup of coffee he had 6 hours ago helped give him energy. Remembering that he had to buy food, he turned right and went for Mendy’s. Knowing what you would want, he ordered something for himself too.

Staring at the rear view mirror, he took note of the license plate. It was a pretty run down car but the plate was new. Must be a second hand car, he thought to himself. Looking at the hood, he scoffed at the dirt.

“Disgusting.” He complained as he reached out for the paper bag.

Knowing he was using his personal car, the guard would surely not allow him entry to the basement parking. Finding a secure spot a few good blocks away, he took off his jacket and folded the sleeves of his dress shirt. Sliding the tie off his neck, he checked the rearview mirror for any oddities. Seeing as it was clear, he took a surgical mask and grabbed the food.

Walking his way closer to the building, he could see a few of the lesser members of the Shie Hassaikai doing their assigned task. With his phone ringing, he took it out and answered it.

“Hurry up. I’m starving.” You complained.

“Give me 5 minutes.” He quickened his pace. “And don’t complain about the food getting cold. You have a microwave.”

“Are you walking?”

“Yes.”

“You know the guard knows your car right?” You sat down on the sofa and began to prepare the files.

“I used my personal one.”

“I’ll meet you at the entrance.” Just as you stood up, he told you there was no need. “Okay then. Just knock when you’re here.”

Dropping the call, you began to review the files you had prepared. Most of them were just gathered data regarding Tamisura and the Asaki-Gumi. With barely anything to get on, all you could do was sigh and hope that Overhaul could provide a decent amount of information. Knowing full well that he attended meetings without the precincts knowledge, the chances were there.

Hearing the knock on your door, you were quick to open it and be greeted with a paper bag held to your face. Taking it from his hands, you stepped aside and he went in.

“You look different today…” You commented as the snacks were taken out from the bag.

“How so?”

“Your sleeves are folded and your jacket’s missing.” And he looked really good. “Any special event I missed?”

“As I recall,” He walked towards the sofa and took a seat. “You mentioned you were bugged, is that right?”

“And?”

“If it wasn’t the Shie Hassaikai’s doing, then it surely could have been Nighteye or your precinct themselves. However, we seem to have grown rather too comfortable with one another that another party has taken your interest.”

On instinct, your eyes began to survey your unit.

“I was followed on my way here. Hence my tardiness.” Overhaul let out a sigh. “A few of my men are patrolling the area but as to whether or not they trailed me all the way here is for debate.”

“You set up a few henchmen here?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Precautionary measures, my guilty pleasure.”

It had been a long while since you last heard him call you that nickname. Feeling your mind turning to mush, you quickly grabbed a folder and handed it over to him. When he leaned back on the sofa and began to scan the papers, you couldn’t help but stare.

The young yakuza boss was examining files with a police officer. One of the most powerful and feared villains sat there with his sleeves rolled to his elbows while his mask hung limply on his ear. Looking at his hands, the gloves were still there but in some strange way, they complimented him. The walk towards your apartment ruffled his hair a bit too.

With your cheeks slowly reddening, you snapped yourself back to reality.

“So, uh, what exactly do you know about Tamisura?”

“As to the names of her quirk, I am not sure.” He began. “But, the records here state facts that she does need time to prep her abilities. If I am not mistaken, she needs a rather considerable amount of time as well.”

“Would you know how long?”

“Assuming it hasn’t evolved, once she is around her target, she would need at least 20 minutes.”

“Is there a time limit to her quirk?”

“Perhaps an hour.”

“That long?” You cursed at the duration.

“As for how to stop her speed, it is beyond my knowledge.” He shrugged. “Based on what I’ve gathered, she still prefers to work alone despite having a few new men under her wing.”

“How do you know so much about her, though?”

“She’s quite popular in the underground.” A few more exchanges of information, it was safe to say that you had gained just enough to satisfy Nighteye. With the bug now planted in the Fukuo Kai, the raid was now within arms reach.

Now that you were done interviewing the yakuza, the two of you were now eating the food he had bought. As always, he came through and ordered what you liked in their menu. You wanted to start a conversation with him, yet the only thoughts running through your head was the amount of time left you had with him.

“Tsukauchi has informed me that we will be partnering during the raid, is that correct?” Overhaul broke the silence.

“We are.” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Back to where we were, huh?”

“Being melancholic?”

“I can’t help it. In a matter of days the raid will take place and after that, we’ll see each other as enemies. Tragic, isn’t it?”

“You were the one who pursued this.”

“Blaming everything on me?” You teased and kicked his leg. “Who was the one who attmepted to seal the deal?”

“I was not blaming, (y/n). I never stated that I too did not pursue this.” He pointed his index finger at you. Upon hearing your laughter, he couldn’t help but notice the sudden weight on his shoulders. Shaking the looming fear that crept in him, he grabbed a glass of water and gulped it down.

“Now that we’re on the topic…” You grabbed a pillow and hugged it. “What did you first think of me?”

“Annoying.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“That hurts.”

“Along the way, you only grew more annoying. But somehow I got used to it and find it rather endearing in its own cursed way.” He paused and rolled his golden eyes. “Were those the words you wanted to hear?”

“Maybe. Flowery words don’t suit you.”

“Really?”

“Don’t mock me, Chisaki.”

“That’s all we’ve been doing these past few minutes.” He flicked your forehead. “But I stand by what I said. I have to go, (y/n).”

“So soon?” The words went out of your mouth before you could think.

“The longer I stay the higher they’ll suspect me. You wouldn’t want your plans to go into failure, no?”

Leading him to the door, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen in the next few days. With the raid’s plan going smoothly, it was only a matter of time before Nighteye would push for your full cooperation with their case. Would you still be able to meet him in secret? Or would the heroes truly prevail and bring their needed justice home? Could you even dare look at him when they detain him?

“Don’t overthink things.” Overhaul said as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“I can’t help it…” Your grip on the doorknob tightened.

“It isn’t the end of your world. We still have one more moment before going separate ways.”

“Right…” You turned around to face him. Taking in the features of what his mask didn’t cover, you couldn’t help but raise your hand in an attempt to touch his face. Remembering that he wasn’t one who was fond of physical contact, you decided it was best not to continue your action. “I’ll see you next week.”

Watching as Overhaul exited your building, you dragged your feet back to the sofa. Closing your eyes, images of possible outcomes began to flood your head. With Nighteye knowing your complicated relationship, there was no escaping. All you could do was think of alibi’s to clear whatever you could.

Even if you did file a case about them bugging you, it wouldn’t be the best decision due to it leaning on their favor. It would also be best to not let the media know about whatever footage they had obtained.

With nothing else to do, you quickly grabbed your laptop and began to search for the details once villains would be handed over to the HPSC.

- - - - -

I hope you guys liked the chapter despite me being gone x) again, if you want to be tagged, feel free to message me or comment :) Take care and have a nice day!

would you buy me a ko-fi :3

[prettyflyshyguy]

Oops I wrote more C virus stuff

I got super energised and spent all night drafting up a one-shot about what happens when Ashley reunites with Leon post RE6 in the C-Virus AU cannon. It’s unfinished and is very much a draft, but I’m excited so I wanted to post what I have so far. I intend on compiling a bunch of these together and putting them up as chapters on AO3 and Fanfic.net once they’re edited, featuring various different characters.

You came this far just to become a Monster - The Aftermath

A brief summary: Ashley visits Leon while he’s stuck in quarantine. It gets a bit emotional. 

I’m assuming the President in RE6 was the same in RE4 despite the uh long time difference between the two games. It’s 9 years and I’m Australian so I know nothing about American politics but I think a president can only serve 8 years in one stint so uh maybe he’d just been elected in 4 and was just running out of time before he died in 6? I’m rolling with that for the sake of my head-cannon/AU storylines. It makes sense given Leon was described as being good friends with him, and we can assume the friendship started once he got Ashley back home safely after the events of 4. 

Given Ashley was 19/20 during RE4 she should be 28/29 post RE6 depending on her birthday. 

-

The conversation with Hunnigan echoed in her mind as she walked down the labs corridor. 

“While pursuing Chief Security Advisor Simmons, Leon became infected with the C Virus. He’s OK, don’t worry. It’s just we’re still running tests to make sure he’ll stay ok.

I know the report I gave you didn’t have much to go on in it, I’m sorry. I wasn’t allowed to provide you with much more information. You’ll just have to wait until you can see him for yourself.

He’s happy to talk with you, you can go down to the labs today if you’d like.”

“He’s happy to talk? You mean I can’t see him?”

The warm smile was betrayed by the sorrow in Hunnigan’s eyes. 

“He’s still adjusting to everything. He’s spoken to a couple of our doctors and he’s dealing with a lot of internal negative emotions right now, about what people think of him. I don’t think the tests are helping.”

Hunnigan reached out and gently held Ashley’s hand, squeezing it lightly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be happy to have you visit. It’s what he really needs right now. Trust me.”

-

Standing outside the viewing room door, holding her keycard at the ready, she steeled herself. The way the security staff described the setup, Leon had access to a shutter system on the viewing window, giving him control over how and when visitors can see him. It allowed him much needed privacy given his life since coming home was endless tests and scans and scientists. 

Tapping her card against the reader, the light flicked green and she heard the lock release. Pressing down on the cold handle, she slipped inside. There was a small coffee table near the viewing window, the shutter was down. A few chairs were on the far wall, she pulled one up to the window and sat down. On the table there was a remote control, it looked custom made for the setup. It only had a handful of buttons, the most important of which was a ‘call’ button that she was told would alert Leon that someone was in the room, and a ‘mic on’ button. The room had an inbuilt microphone and speaker system to allow comfortable communication even if large groups were there. 

It felt uncomfortably sterile. Worse than a hospital. She looked up to the top left corner of the room, where a security camera stared back. She was also told Leon had access to the feed. She wondered if he was watching now? Hunnigan said she’d call ahead. Was he waiting for her to do something first? Would he be upset that she was so hesitant? 

Shaking off the feeling she hit both buttons on the controller and flashed a smile and a wave towards the security camera, for good measure.

A moment passed before she heard a light clicking sound on the intercom, before a voice emerged.

“Ashley, hey…”

She was surprised that he sounded so… Normal. She wasn't sure what she expected, no one had given her any information other than that he’d been infected but he hadn’t lost his mind. There was an extensive report written about the events that went down, she’d been able to convince the BSAA to let her read a copy of it but it was heavily redacted. Particularly the parts pertaining to Leon. 

“It’s… good to see you.”

She was relieved to hear the sincerity in his voice, despite how slightly rough around the edges he sounded. He was Leon, that hadn’t changed. But she could tell he was different all the same.

“It’s good to, uh, hear you, haha..”

Her feet shuffled, she started bouncing one leg. Looking longfully at the window glass with the shutter still closed. She was fine with phone calls but this was making her nervous. It hadn’t been that long ago that they’d last spoke, that they’d last caught up in person. 

“I’m sorry, about your dad. I’m sorry I couldn't make it to the funeral. I’m sorry for everything, Ashley.”

“It’s ok, Leon. You did everything you could.”

Despite the lack of contact, the uncomfortable fog in the room was palpable for both parties. Her leg bouncing rate increased. Shuffling could be heard over the intercom speaker. They each heard the pain in the other’s voice. The wound was still fresh and very deep. 

Not wanting to have that conversation to a wall, Ashley attempted to change the subject.

“So how are you holding up? I mean with the tests and everything. Hunnigan said you shouldn't have to be in isolation much longer.”

“Uhh yeah… It’s fine. I’m doing fine.”

She let out a small sigh.

“You can’t bullshit me, Leon.”

Silence. 

“You’ve been stuck inside that room for almost three months now. You must be tired of it, and lonely.”

She paused, before continuing.

“When I got back from Europe after you rescued me, they kept me in isolation for precautionary testing for two weeks. They were paranoid I guess. I know for you they didn’t need long to clear you of any issues. Those two weeks were the worst of my life.”

“Worse than being injected with a mind-controlling parasite?” he joked back. 

“Much, much worse.” she playfully replied, “I didn’t have a strong, capable, and handsome government agent to save me from a bunch of creepy scientists in hazmat suits.”

She heard what sounded like a muffled laugh. A smile crossed her face. 

“Unfortunately for me the only ‘strong, capable, and handsome’ government agent I know is limited to Visitors on Wednesdays only.”

This made Ashley giggle suddenly, the first time she’d properly and genuinely laughed since before the C-Virus incident even occurred. 

“When I came home, Dad was so worried. He just wanted to make sure I was gonna be ok. He was always so busy and worked so hard. He just wanted to make sure he could change something for the positive. In the end you made sure that happened. You and Helena.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and gently dropped off her chin. Followed by another.

“I’d known Simmons for just about my whole life, he’d had family dinners with us, we’d visit his house frequently. Dad had confided in him about so much I just… I can’t believe he’d betray us like that. I can’t believe he would be so selfish.”

The tears were making it hard for her to see, her words were mixed in with sharp breaths as she began to sob.

“He killed dad and all those people, after everything, he just fucking killed him and killed everyone else and burned it to the ground all for what!! And now he’s gone and I don’t know what to do, Leon I just don’t know what to fucking do!”

She cried for a moment, letting the anger and the grief flow. Purging her system, letting it out. As she started to calm down she pulled a packet of tissues from her bag, to clean her face.

“I want to make a difference. I want to do something, like dad did.” she said slowly through strained breaths.

“I never want to feel helpless and small ever again. After you rescued me in Europe, after everything you did to stop Simmons, I want to do something for the world too.” 

She glanced up at the security camera, as if it would respond back somehow. Hoping he was watching.

“You and dad made me realise what I wanted to do with my life, what I cared most about. I even changed my college degree to International Relations when I got home but I mean, you already know that. Now with the BSAA here, I’ve asked Hunnigan if she can help me shift my career slightly, and work with you and everyone else here.”

“Really? You want to work for the BSAA?”

She nodded, not knowing if he could even see. Taking the moment to have a drink from her water bottle to gather herself.

“... I’ll put in a personal recommendation, if they’re still accepting those from me after everything.”

“Thank you Leon, I’m sure they will.” Ashley smiled.

“Well if they let me do anything, once the tests are cleared, I’d like to go visit your old man with you. If you don’t mind. I couldn’t be there for the funeral so… “

“Of course Leon,” she wiped a tear from her eye, “I’d love that. I’m sure dad would too.”

“I think you’d be great here, we need more people like you Ashley.”

“Of course, someone needs to be around to stop you getting into more trouble right?”

She was hoping for a smart ass response, a laugh, a quip, something. Her comment was met with silence. Her heart sank.

“What happened to you, Leon?”

He avoided responding, she could hear more slight shuffling noises.

“I know you feel uncomfortable, god knows I would too. Everyone’s talking about you, saying you’re a hero. You and all the others that worked together to stop the C-Virus from spreading. You saved people's lives.”

“... I don’t think you’d be calling me that if you could see me right now.”

The most she’d gotten to read about the effects of the virus on him were small comments about carapace and ‘external structural changes’. In all honestly she had no idea what he looked like, if he was even recognisable. She didn’t really know how to ask, besides the fact she really only knew Hunnigan well enough to be confident posing the question.

“I wouldn’t know. No one’s shown me any photos of you. I have no idea.”

He was silent again.

“But you’re still you, in the end. Does it matter what you look like?”

“It does when you look like a monster.”

She recoiled slightly at the tone of his voice.

“When I was in China, when it happened. It didn’t really matter to me. People's lives were at stake, Simmons was out there, I embraced it in the moment because I couldn't let people down. I needed to do something. I couldn't just give up and avoid facing the world. But now? I’m stuck in this cell and every few days I get more needles poked into me and more scans and more people asking me stupid fucking questions and I just.”

He paused suddenly. Breathing for a few moments.

“I can’t deal with all of this. I’m as good as a lab animal now. And why would anyone think any differently if they saw what I’ve become.”

“C’mon, don’t say that.”

Suddenly the shutter began to move upwards, a brighter light from the room beyond the glass spilling in. It took Ashley a moment to adjust before she could fully stare at the figure sitting opposite her.

“If you were in trouble and the thing that came to help you looked like this, would you still call it a hero?” 

[order-of-river-phoenix]

Could I request something soft™️ with Guarnere please? Have a lovely day! ♥️

When The Night Has Come; Bill Guarnere

Fandom: HBO War; Band of Brothers

A/N: 1) I’m so sorry that this is short, but bc I had no signal/internet, Wattpad decided to delete part of my draft, and 2) I hope this is soft enough for you 😊 Thank you so much for requesting! 💕

Warnings: none :)

Taglist: @liebegott @stressedinadress @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @floydtab @hbohmygodx @meteora-fc @alienoresimagines @hannahbear1

__________

"Are you about done tormenting these poor boys?" Your hands squeezed Bill's broad shoulders.

He turned his head to look up at you, a smile spread across his face. "Not quite yet, sweetheart."

Shaking your head, you addressed the new replacements—Babe's buddies. "I apologize, Bill can be a real-" An incredulous look from your boyfriend stopped you. "Don't take him too seriously. He's just trying to scare you."

"Nah, the Krauts'll scare 'em enough," Bill added.

Their faces went from nervous to terrified, though they all tried to hide it.

“And on that note,” you patted Bill’s shoulder, signaling him to get up, “I’m hankering for a dance. What do you say, Wild Bill?”

“I say I gotta give my girl a dance,” he responded as you hooked your arm with his. He nodded to the surrounding men before you led him away.

The cheery chatter in the pub all but drowned out the music, but from the little spot you found to dance in, you could make out enough of the beat to keep in step.

“Shouldn’t I be leading?” Bill questioned.

You laughed. “Not after our last dance.”

It may have been the alcohol, but you could have sworn you saw him blush. “You said you weren’t gonna hold that against me.”

“This isn’t holding it against you,” you countered. “This is a precautionary measure.”

As you two swayed in circles around your area, you settled your head into his shoulder. There was no telling if you were keeping up with the music or not; neither of you were paying attention to it anyway.

“How’d you learn, anyway?” he asked, breaking your spell of silence.

“To lead?”

“To dance.”

You groaned slightly as you lifted your head to look at him. “My parents forced me into cotillion, and I had all these lessons on etiquette and proper dress and how to dance and the like. They taught me how to a proper young lady.”

“Well, Jesus, what happened?” he chuckled.

You swatted his arm. “At least I can lead. How about you?”

“My mother taught me,” he replied, a soft smile on his face at the memory. “She made sure her boys knew how to dance, but, uh, not how to lead, I guess.”

After a small eternity in each other’s arms, both you were snapped out of your self-contained bubble of love. Lipton’s announcement left a somber silence over everyone.

You turned to look at Bill, who all but blinked back at you.

You two followed many of the other guys out of the bar, and his arm snaked around your waist, instinctively holding you as close as possible.

The air enveloped you in a chill that matched the mood. You nestled yourself even closer to him as you walked, hoping to commandeer some of his body heat. Even though there were several others headed back to their quarters, the night air carried only the sounds of feet hitting the gravel.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he stated, his grim expression difficult to read.

You closed your eyes momentarily and leaned into the kiss he pressed to your temple. “I know you will. I’m counting on it.”

He looked down into your eyes, illuminated by the moonlight. “Not to get all sentimental, but I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“I do, but it’s you I’m worried about something happening to.” You stopped walking, making him stop as well. “Please don’t do anything rash.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scoffed.

You looked at him sternly, silently warning him not to argue. “You know what I mean. I need you after this is all said and done too, not just when the bullets are flying.”

Slowly, he nodded. “Okay.”

You leaned in, and he met you halfway.

[poisonedapples]

Lasting Impressions - Chapter Two: One Step Forward

Story Summary: Virgil makes a good friend at the weirdest time of day; four in the morning, where everyone and their dog is fast asleep. However, deciding to befriend that person ends up getting him into a lot more trouble than he could ever suspect. His new friend ended up going missing that same night. And Virgil was the last person to see him alive.

Previous Chapter

Chapter Warnings: Kidnapping, stalking, swearing, some unsafe binding, a couple mentions of alcohol, mentions of past injuries and blood, implied past fighting, past abuse mentions, money issues, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 6,937

Notes: A huge thanks to CornyBird on Ao3 for beta reading this story (and also most of my stuff)! You’re the best <3

Virgil’s leg was bouncing violently on the floor as his thumb hovered over the call button. He’d run home as quickly as he could and was still panting from the exercise, but Virgil refused to take off his binder. If he was going to visit the police, he didn’t want them to see his chest.

It was such a stupid thing to worry about. Out of all the things that happened in the last hour, he was worried about a detective seeing that he had boobs. Usually if his binder was restricting him, he’d take it off the second he was able to. But considering now he was a part of a missing person investigation, that seemed like the least of his worries.

There was a phone number on the bottom of the missing person poster he’d grabbed. If you have any information about Roman Goldsberry, it said, please call the local precinct at the number below.

He had the number dialed. All Virgil had to do was press call. But facing the severity of the situation (and his phone anxiety) seemed like a task impossible to overcome.

Virgil threw his phone on the bed and started taking off his shirt to get to his binder. The thought of heading back out into the world without his binder terrified him, but right now he could barely breathe. So he slipped on a sports bra and took in a couple deep breaths, feeling too jittery to do his usual stretches afterward.

He breathed in for four seconds instead. Your information could save this dude’s life.

He held it for seven seconds. It’s terrifying, but you have no choice. This is life or death for someone here. You have the power to save him. Do it.

Then, out for eight. Just hit call and get it over with. If you don’t, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

Virgil looked at his phone on the bed, still opened to the number ready to hit the dial. He slowly walked over to his phone like it was a ticking bomb. Do it. Hit call. It’s really not that hard. Just call it.

Alright. On three...one, two...two and a half…

Three.

The phone began to ring as Virgil paced around his room. The ringing seemed to last a lifetime before a voice finally interrupted the sound.

“You are speaking to Police Detective Logan Wilson, please note that all calls made to this number are recorded and responses may have a delay.”

Virgil paused for a long time. Is this a recorded message?

“...Is anyone there?”

Fuck. Apparently not. “Uh, hey, sorry...I just, uh...it told me on the missing posters for Roman Goldsberry to call this number if I had any information…?”

Virgil heard a thud in the background. “Yes, you have the right number. What do you have to report?”

“Well…” Virgil looked at the smiling missing photo still crumpled up on his bed. “The poster says that the guy was last seen on October 2nd. I talked to him at 4 AM on October 3rd.”

Another thud. “And you are certain you talked to Goldsberry?”

“Yeah. He told me his name and we talked for a while. I know this sounds kinda crazy, but...I think I might have been the last person to see him…?”

The other side of the line was quiet for a while. “Would you mind telling me your name?”

“Uh, Virgil. Virgil Blackbell.”

“Thank you for calling, Mr. Blackbell. However, I would like to question you about Goldsberry further in person. Would you be willing to come to my office at the Eleventh Precinct for questioning?”

No turning back now, huh? “Uh yeah, sure. What time?”

“Well...it’s noon right now, and unless you have any other responsibilities, how would you feel about one o’clock?”

“I can do that, sure.” Let’s get this over with.

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out for you at that time, then. Have a nice day, sir.”

“Uh, see ya.”

With that, the detective on the other end hung up. Virgil took his free thirty minutes before he had to leave as time to collapse in bed and scream into the pillows, which provided some relief from the pent-up anxiety he’d been having. But still, his limbs felt weak and something deep inside Virgil’s body wanted to vomit.

I have to go to a precinct. To talk to a detective. For questioning. In a missing person case.

Virgil stuffed his face deeper into his pillow and screamed again. Why couldn’t this shit have happened to someone else?

But there was no turning back now. In an hour, Virgil would be talking to a detective about a guy he barely knew. At least then, he could drop this whole mess.

That was the only thing keeping him together—dropping this whole thing.

Virgil took a deep breath and curled up in his bed. It’s alright, he thought, we’ll get this over with.

Then I’ll never have to worry about missing people ever again.

***

When Virgil made it to the precinct five minutes before one o’clock, the detective was already waiting for him at the door.

He always thought of detectives as the ones in old mystery movies, the ones with magnifying glasses and a brown trenchcoat, but this person didn’t look anything like that. Instead, he was wearing a black suit with a dark blue tie, the square glasses on his face making him look like a nerdy businessman more than anything. Virgil would have laughed if he didn’t remember that detectives have more fighting skills than he ever would.

The detective approached him. “Are you Virgil Blackbell, by any chance?”

“Er, yeah, that’s me.”

“I appreciate you coming here, Mr. Blackbell.” He held out his hand to shake, which Virgil accepted awkwardly. “I’m Detective Wilson, I’m investigating the disappearance case of Roman Goldsberry.”

“Uh...hey.”

“If you would follow me this way, I will take you to my office and we can begin.”

Virgil shrugged, “Alright.”

Logan led him down a thin hallway full of offices. They all had frosted windows with various names of (what Virgil assumed to be) other detectives printed into them. At the far end of the hallway, Logan stopped at a door titled Detective Wilson, opening the door and motioning Virgil to go in first.

The room was decently small. There was a two person table in the middle, but on the side was a computer with two monitors and a cheap swivel chair. The place was so organized Virgil felt embarrassed for his own room, even if the detective couldn’t possibly know what it looked like.

Logan sat down at the table and gestured for Virgil to sit across from him. Virgil did so hesitantly, crossing his hands in his lap to try to keep some level of composure. The detective seemed hardly fazed. All he did was take a recorder off of his computer desk and set it at the table, pressing play and bringing out a pen and notepad as well. “I record all my interviews in their entirety for legal reasons. I hope you don’t mind me pausing to take notes as well.”

“No, I don’t…” Virgil started picking at his fingernails, “Though I’ll admit, I have no idea how any of this works.”

“It’s alright, I hardly expect you to. I’m only going to ask you questions about your encounter with Roman. I’ll try to make this as quick and precise as possible so not to waste both our time.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Lay it on me.”

“In your call to my office, you said that you were the last person to see Roman before he disappeared,” Logan said, “Could you restate why you think that?”

“On the missing poster, it says he was last seen at his house on October 2nd. I met him at four in the morning on October 3rd.”

Logan nodded to himself and scribbled something in his notepad. “Where were you when you spoke to him?”

“Only a few blocks from my apartment. I think it was like...Washington Road where we met up. Then me and him walked for a couple blocks before I turned back to go home.”

“Do you remember the street you last saw him on?”

“No idea. I only know we were near a Walmart.”

Logan made more notes. “Alright. Now, for precautionary measures, let’s talk Roman’s behavior that night. Was there anything about his behavior that struck you as odd? Perhaps he seemed paranoid, or generally on edge?”

Virgil shook his head. “He actually seemed pretty chill to me. He said hi to me first and called me handsome, then went on a dramatic rant about Disney World rides. I wouldn’t really call it paranoid.”

“What about any other unusual behavior that might not strike as paranoia to you? Anything you considered to be upset emotions?”

“I mean…” Virgil thought back to his conversations with Roman. “...He kinda had a lonely look in his eyes, you know? Like, he kept laughing with me and acted all dramatic and stuff, but he looked like he had something on his mind deep down.”

Logan looked up from his notepad with a quizzical expression. “Did he tell you about anything bothering him?”

“I mean…” Virgil went back into his memories. Roman didn’t mention much about himself at all, other than he was an actor.

...Wait.

Wait a fucking minute.

Virgil smacked his hand on the table so suddenly that even the detective seemed surprised. Virgil’s eyes widened in shock as he ran a hand through his hair. “Scratch that. Scratch everything about him not acting weird, he was acting weird as fuck.”

Logan actually scribbled something out on his notes. “How so?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before- He was all over the place! It didn’t seem weird at the time because I thought he was flirting, but he was doing the weirdest shit!”

“Elaborate, please. What makes you believe he was acting weird?”

“Everything! First, he told me about his theater show that he was supposed to star in, but then he said he wouldn’t be able to make it because of ‘personal reasons’. He invited me to the show, which is kinda weird considering we just met but not really, but then he wouldn’t even tell me the show dates because he didn’t have time to? Don’t actors, especially the lead, have that shit memorized? How hard is it to say ‘Oh, it’s on Saturday at these times’? It’s not like he left immediately after that either! We talked for at least another five minutes, saying the dates really wouldn’t have taken that long!”

“Perhaps he wanted to get away before anyone noticed...” Logan murmured before writing more stuff in his notepad.

“Yeah, and honestly, that’s not even the weirdest thing. So we exchanged phone numbers, right? He told me immediately after that he wouldn’t respond to me for the next few days. I thought it was because he was busy, but then...well, you know what happened to him.”

“That I do. Was there anything else that may strike you as strange?”

“Well, he sent me a message to make sure we had the phone numbers right. Except he took a picture of himself and sent me that, which like...who does that for a first text message?” Virgil ran a hand through his hair. “I think the most eerie thing about it now was the caption he put under it. He said ‘don’t forget this beautiful face’.”

“May I see that photo and the message?” Logan asked.

Virgil pulled out his phone and opened it to Roman’s contact. It didn’t take long for him to scroll up, but once he did, he handed it to the detective. Logan’s eyebrows knitted together as he held his chin in deep thought.

“Did you ask about the injuries on his face?” He eventually asked.

“Uh, yeah. He said he tried to befriend a cat in an alleyway and it attacked him. I mostly believed it because he said he was tipsy.”

Logan wrote something in his notes and turned back to the photo. “Those are not cat scratches. A cat wouldn’t leave bruises or bust his lip like that.”

“What?” Virgil reached his body over the table to look again at the photo. Logan tilted the phone so he could see, but lo and behold, he was right. Roman’s face was covered in red splotches that signified more than just blood; a bruise was ready to form. The cut on his lip was too deep to be made by a cat, and the bottom of his left eye was beginning to swell too. Virgil hadn’t noticed it in the darkness, but now with it pointed out, it seemed so obvious.

“Not to mention, look at his hand on his chest in that pose. His knuckles are busted. The only way that happens is if he punched someone or something.” Logan pointed out.

“...Holy shit.”

“You also mentioned he said that he was tipsy, correct?”

“Yeah, he told me he had a couple drinks. I don’t know anymore than that, though.”

Logan wrote down more in his notepad. “Is that all that struck you as suspicious?”

“I mean…even in the moment, I thought something else he said was weird. I just thought he was being flirty.”

“And what would that be?” Logan asked.

“He pointed out the time to me before we left. He said to remember that it was 4:24 the last time I saw him. He said it was because it must be some kind of lucky number...but now I’m not so sure that was why.”

Logan seemed confused. “What do you think the real reason was, then?”

“...It’s almost like he knew. Like he knew he was gonna go missing and wanted to make sure I wouldn’t mess up the information.”

“And you have no idea why he did this?”

“No, no idea. I barely knew the guy anyway.”

“Understandable.” Logan wrote in his notepad again, this time a lot more vigorously before tearing off a section of the paper and handing it to Virgil. “That is the number for my mobile phone. I would highly appreciate it if you sent me a screenshot of Roman’s last messages to you, as well as the picture itself. If not, I may call you asking for it.”

“Uh, noted.”

“Is there anything else you would deem necessary to mention? Or has everything been covered?”

“I think we’re good now.” Virgil hesitated for a moment. “...Though, can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly. Go right ahead.”

Virgil picked at his thumb again. “...What do you think happened to him? About why he went missing?”

“What do I think?”

“Yeah.”

“Well…” Logan set down his notepad and looked Virgil in the eyes. “I’ve seen many missing people cases in my time. For the majority of them, they reappear after a week or so with a wild story to explain their behavior. Considering there seems to be no evidence of foul play or anything else to raise concern, I believe he got stressed and decided to escape for a while.”

“So he ran away?”

“It’s my most plausible theory. As of right now, I’m hardly concerned. Despite what the media says, most missing cases in adults don’t end in such unfortunate ways, let alone ones like the Goldsberry case, though that specific information is classified.”

“That makes sense...though, can I go now?”

Logan nodded. “You may. Though I do want those pictures as soon as possible. And if you come across anything else, you have both my office number and mobile.”

Virgil stood up as Logan held the door open for him after turning off the recorder. “I do appreciate your help, however.”

“Uh...yeah, thanks.” Virgil walked out and made his way down the hallway, out of the precinct. Logan sighed as he closed the door, sitting back in his swivel chair and looking up at the roof.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. When he pulled it out, he saw two messages on his lockscreen:

Unknown sent two photos

Unknown: This is Virgil, here you go

Logan smiled to himself. That was fast.

 He’d look more carefully over the photo later, but right now he was more concerned about the locations Virgil had given him. Considering Roman was apparently tipsy that night, Logan had a new theory that he’d gotten into some trouble at a bar and was lying low for a while. Who knew, depending on how crazy of a drunk he is, maybe he got lost trying to run away from home and ended up in the countryside.

It was a very loose theory, but the only thing that made this case concerning was the distressed brother that kept blowing up his phone asking for updates. The facial injuries were somewhat concerning, and Roman apparently knew he wasn’t going back home, which was also concerning to an extent if Logan wasn’t so certain he’d run away. Other than that, Roman was an adult male with no history of mental disorders (other than past grief counseling) or physical disabilities. Just like he told Virgil, people like Roman come back within a week and all is well.

Logan pulled up a map of the city on his monitor, zooming into Washington Road and seeing the possible paths Roman and Virgil could have taken. It was possible Roman’s case could have foul play. His family certainly expected it, but a hunch is nothing compared to evidence. And as of right now, their evidence pointed to confusing, not to foul play.

There are certainly suspicious parts in this case, but there’s hardly any evidence at all for anything. Up until now, the biggest lead I had was the last time Roman was seen by his brother, which still pointed to nothing. The only believable theory is that Roman’s absurd work overload ended in him running off to take a break with no warning.

Which was certainly more realistic than the drunk theory.

Logan noted the street name he believed Roman may have departed with Virgil on. A couple blocks from Washington Road, there was a rather large Walmart on the curb. He took a note to ask the city for surveillance footage by tomorrow.

However, Virgil did say that he took a strange note of the time and told Virgil not to forget it. If he wanted to get away, he wouldn’t have made such a big deal over that.

Or maybe he really was being flirtatious? But who flirts like that?

It was all perplexing. There was almost no evidence for anything, let alone on Roman’s whereabouts. He needed something more than this, something that tells more of the story…

Wait.

...The laptop!

Logan practically jumped out of his chair to head down to the other detective offices. He’d almost forgotten about the laptop! Roman’s laptop was currently with his fellow detective (and friend) Carrie Merchant, who’d been working to see if the data on it could be restored.

It was another item that could have either been evidence or something completely unrelated. Roman’s phone was nowhere to be found (most likely still on him), but his laptop could have information on where he went. All it took was a search through his apps, folders, and search history.

Except there was one problem. When they took the laptop in as evidence, everything from it had been wiped clean. When it was turned on, it was like purchasing a new laptop and opening it for the first time. Not even Roman’s name was on it anymore.

Carrie had volunteered to spend the next few hours trying to restore it. Considering she was infinitely better at computers than Logan could ever be, he was perfectly fine with this.

Before he could open the door to Carrie’s office, the door almost smacked him in the face as it suddenly opened. Logan pulled back just in time to see Carrie on the other side, pushing open the door with her foot and paying more attention to tying her hair up than she was where she was going. When she looked up to see Logan, she smiled and clapped her hands together. “Perfect, just the guy I’m looking for!”

Logan fiddled with his tie. “I assume you were looking for me as well?”

“Yup. I’ve got an update on the computer.”

“Did you restore it?”

“Not at all! The whole thing’s busted. I think it’s just a fruitless effort.”

Logan blinked.

“However,” she continued, “I do have something else. And you really need to see it.”

Carrie led Logan into the office and sat down at her computer. “What is it?” Logan asked.

“I think we need to start treating this case as a kidnapping; maybe even a murder.”

“Explain, please?”

Carrie pulled a flash drive out of her computer and showed it to Logan. It was dark red with a sparkly gold crown painted on the side, which was absolutely not her style. “The laptop was a total bust. I tried everything I knew and looked all over the Internet for ideas, but it was wiped clean thoroughly. However, in the disk compartment there was a hidden note.” She plucked a sticky note off her desk and showed it to Logan:

Get my red flash drive. It’s inside my desk drawer.

Carrie didn’t acknowledge Logan’s confusion, only plugged the flash drive back into her computer and let the files open. “His brother let me search through his room again and grab this. I brought it back here and just got done searching through it. Everything on it is wiped clean except for this.”

Logan looked at the file she was pointing to on her screen with the mouse. “It’s a video.”

“Yeah. There’s honestly no way I can explain this. It’s...really disturbing. It reminds me of a horror movie, the ones where they find footage and weird shit happens in it.”

“Play it.”

Carrie clicked on the video and let it load.

It was a video of Roman at his computer desk. He fumbled with the tilted screen for a while to get the seemingly perfect angle, but then darted his head around the room as if looking for something. He paused for a moment before jumping and looking around again. Roman’s eyes were full of unshed tears as he gazed at the monitor in horror.

“...Do you hear that?” He whispered, “I’m not losing my mind. I know it’s real. I’ve been hearing it for weeks.”

Logan looked at Carrie quizzically. “Just keep watching.” She said.

“I know it’s in here. I’ve torn this whole place upside down looking for it but I can’t find it!” Roman looked around the room again. “It’s a camera. It’s watching everything I do.”

Roman bolted up from his seat and walked to the background to open his bedroom door. He looked on both sides of the door before closing and locking it again, but still stood in the background looking around his room.

He turned his back up against the door and slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands ready to cry. “Stop it! Stop watching me, I know you’re in here!”

“...What the fuck…?” Logan muttered, frowning at the laptop screen.

“I can’t take it anymore! What do you want from me!? Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone! I’m sorry!”

Roman was outright wailing now, covering his ears with his hands so tightly that his hands were turning white. In between sobs he would mumble something unintelligible, curling in on himself more and more as the seconds passed.

Then, the front door of the house opened loud enough for Roman to jerk back up to his feet. “Roman, I’m home!” Someone called out.

Roman ran to the computer and rubbed the tears out of his eyes. If he wasn’t such a beautiful crier, someone would have noticed his previous sobbing almost instantly. “Welcome back!” He yelled.

Roman turned to shut the recording off, then the video ended.

Logan’s eyes were wide with horror. “...Holy shit.”

“I’m telling you, it’s terrifying.” Carrie replied.

“It seems like he’s showing signs of psychosis, maybe? It is more likely to show in males, and he’s in the prime age to start showing symptoms. Having beliefs of being watched happens in persecutory delusions.”

Carrie hummed. “I thought the same thing too. But listen to it again.”

She turned the volume all the way up and replayed the beginning:

Roman paused for a moment looking around his room. Then, quiet but clear as day, the sound of a mechanical whirring was heard from the background.

Roman jumped. “...Do you hear that?”

Carrie paused the video. “It sounds like a camera zooming in. And that’s not the only time you hear it in the video.”

She fast forwarded the video to when Roman stood up. Once again, a mechanical whirring can be heard.

She fast forwarded again. Roman closed the door, and the mechanical whirring was heard. “Stop it!”

Carrie paused the video before Roman could begin screaming again. “I don’t think it’s psychosis. I know laptop audio isn’t exactly the greatest, but that’s not a usual sound you hear a TV or computer make. Something’s in that room, and it’s built to spy on him.”

“Do you think it’s a stalker?”

“I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.”

Logan put his face in his hands. “Well...between this and what Blackbell told me, this case has become a lot more serious.”

“Blackbell?” Carrie asked.

“Virgil Blackbell. He called my office, and apparently, he was the last person to see Roman before he disappeared.” Logan opened his phone to the photos Virgil had sent him, then handed it over to Carrie. “He only realized Roman was exhibiting strange behavior when I asked him about it. He didn’t seem paranoid, but Blackbell theorized that Roman knew he was going to disappear before he did. It appears that he was taking precautionary measures to make this investigation easier. Roman sent him that photo of himself under the guise of testing if their phone numbers were exchanged correctly.”

“Who beat him up?”

“No idea. He told Blackbell that a cat scratched him when he tried to befriend it while intoxicated.”

“That’s a load of horse shit. Did his brother mention him getting in a fight before he disappeared?”

Logan shook his head. “I could ask him again, but considering he’s told me lots of useless information about Roman’s life, I doubt he would skip over something like that. Plus, those injuries look new.”

“But if he got in a fight, then got kidnapped a few hours later, are the injuries actually connected?”

“I’m unsure, however, I still think it’s important enough to take note of. I want to contact the city for security camera footage at the time Roman was last seen and see if we can track him. I have a general location of where he and Blackbell parted ways.”

“You gonna contact the brother to search through his room too? Roman wasn’t able to find the camera, but maybe we can.”

“I would like to. I’ll write up a report and do that first thing in the morning.”

Carrie smiled. “Sounds like a plan. After all, this is your case, not mine. I’m just helping you out.”

She handed Logan the flash drive as evidence, which he took gratefully. “I do appreciate your assistance. It would have taken me much longer to find this without you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now scram, I have my own reports to file and I still need to take my lunch break.”

Logan smiled and left Carrie’s office without another word, looking at the flash drive in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe.

Roman left this behind for a reason. He left that note in the disc compartment so we could find it before anyone else did.

Logan took a turn and walked back to his office. Virgil’s right. Roman did know something was going to happen before it did. So why didn’t he contact authorities?

Maybe he thought the stalker would find out he did, and then kill him before anyone could come and help.

...Or maybe he figured it was too late for him.

Logan sat at his desk and pulled up a document to begin writing. Roman Goldsberry missing person case. Foul play is heavily possible.

He tilted back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Whatever happened, one thing is for certain.

This kid got himself into a lot of trouble.

***

When Virgil opened the door to his apartment, the first thing he did was collapse onto his couch and groan.

Thank God it was over now. He didn’t have to worry about detectives or missing people ever again. Of course he hoped Roman made a safe journey back home and wasn’t actually hurt, but Virgil barely knew the guy! They talked for thirty minutes and exchanged phones, it’s not like they were close friends or anything!

Besides, Virgil really wasn’t cut out for this. Missing people stress him out enough when he’s never met them before, but he actually saw Roman minutes before he went missing. That was too close for comfort.

He wished the best for the guy and his family, but Virgil had his own worries. He needed to pay rent, leave enough money on the side for testosterone, and pass his last year of college. Solving a mystery wasn’t exactly on that list.

If Roman’s alive, I’ll pay him a visit when he comes back. It’s the least I can do.

The door to the apartment slowly opened. “Virgil?”

Virgil shifted his head out of the couch cushion to look at the door. Elliott had come home; they were wearing more masculine and less noticeably emo clothes than normal, which already struck Virgil as odd. However, if the look in their eyes was anything to go by, then today had been rough.

“Hey, Elliott. Don’t mind me, I’m just merging with the couch.” Virgil joked.

Elliott smiled, but based on how they were curling in on themself, it wouldn’t be so easy to cheer them up. “How was today?”

“Decent, I guess. I got to talk to a detective and skip class, which was as fun as you think it was.”

“...A detective? Why?”

“You remember Roman?”

“That weird guy you met in the middle of the night and somehow thought was cute?”

“Shut the fuck up.” Virgil squished his face back into the couch. “But you won’t fucking believe what happened.”

“Did he text you back?”

“Nope. But apparently he went missing after we talked.”

Elliott’s eyes widened as they scooted Virgil’s face to the side to sit on the couch. “...What?”

“He went missing. Straight up vanished off the face of the Earth. It looks like I was the last person to see him, so I talked to a detective about him.”

“Holy crap.”

“Yeah, it’s weird as shit. But that’s all I can do about it.” Virgil shifted to lay his head on Elliott’s thigh. “What about you though? You seem pretty depressed.”

Virgil felt Elliott freeze. “...I think we might need to get a third roommate.”

Virgil sprung up from Elliott’s lap. “What? Why? We only have two bedrooms, they wouldn’t even be able to sleep anywhere.”

“I mean, I can share my room so long as they’re not overly messy. We can make do.”

“You didn’t answer my other two questions, my gender-neutral dude.”

Elliott sighed. “...I won’t be able to afford rent in time again. Or any food. So I’ll be mooching off of you again.”

“What-”

“And yeah, it’s really annoying, trust me, I know. I don’t like taking all your money either, which is why I think a third roommate would be able to help us. Your rent would go down and so would mine-”

“Elliott.”

Elliott stopped their ranting long enough to look Virgil in the eyes. “Why won’t you be able to pay rent? I thought with your new job, you were becoming more stable.”

Elliott sighed. They stared at the floor for a while before putting their head in their hands, digging their palms into their eyes to keep the distress at bay. “...I owe Mitch fifteen hundred dollars.”

Virgil jumped off the couch entirely. “What!? Bullshit! He’s just trying to manipulate you again, you can’t just give him fifteen hundred fucking dollars!”

“But I do owe him it, Virge! I still haven’t paid him back my rent when we lived together, and he’s so pissed about it he’s ready to take me to court! And fifteen hundred dollars is a lot cheaper than a good lawyer!”

“I still call bullshit, considering how much that bitch mooched off your money when you were together, he should just call it even.”

“Yeah, I get it, he’s an abusive prick. But I want him off my back so bad and I’m sick of him harassing me over it. Half of my next couple checks are going to him, so I basically have nothing to live off for the next month. But at least then he’ll leave me alone.”

Virgil stuffed his hands in his pockets. “...And there’s nothing you can do to convince him to bring it down?”

“It used to be two thousand, Virgil. Fifteen hundred is him bringing it down.”

“...Shit.”

“I know you really don’t like the idea of sharing a house with a stranger, but maybe if we look really hard to find someone we both trust then things can be easier.”

He didn’t want to do it. He really didn’t want to do it. Things have always been him and Elliott, and there was no telling what roommate might end up popping in. Would they also never pay? Not respect their boundaries? What if they were transphobic?

There were far too many things that could go wrong. Virgil had spent so much time getting Elliott comfortable with him again after they broke up with Mitch. Some stranger was not going to ruin that for them.

Virgil rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “No, it’ll be fine. I’ll just...take up my mom on her favor to give me some money. I don’t like her paying me, but if we need it, we need it.”

Elliott sighed, so tired and defeated. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”

“Don’t be, just...let me call my mom, okay? I’ll call her and see what we can do. If things get really bad then we can think about a roommate, but I’d rather try this first.”

Elliott swallowed back unshed tears. “Yeah...yeah, you do that.”

If Virgil didn’t know any better, he would sit next to his friend instead and comfort them as best he could. But Elliott always shut down when they were upset (especially after the bastard), and really, all they needed was some sense of security. If he could provide that, then they’d both be okay.

Virgil locked the door of his bedroom and picked up his phone. He was seconds away from pressing call on her contacts before he spotted the paper on his bed.

The missing person poster. The photo of Roman, smiling so wide without a care in the world. The face of a man that no one would guess would go missing until he had.

Virgil lowered his phone for a moment to look back at the poster. He really hadn’t given it much of a look-over, honestly. All he took note of was the name, photo, date and number on the bottom. But missing posters always had more than that. It had his height, weight, age, hair and eye color, as well as where he was last seen (which now needed to be updated from “at his house” to “some random street”). But then, right under the phone number was another number.

10,000 dollar reward for anyone who knows his whereabouts.

...Well, Virgil did know where he was in the middle of the night, which helped with the case some. But he doesn’t know where Roman actually is.

...But if I find out, then those ten thousand bucks will be mine. It could pay mine and Elliott’s rent for a whole year and then some.

And Elliott wouldn’t have to worry.

Virgil looked between his mom’s contact and the poster. He hated asking his mom for help because it felt like he was mooching off her, and the reward could pay for a hell of a lot more than his mom could ever dream of helping with. All he had to do was put in some detective work with a decent amount of patience.

It was tempting. Really selfish. But also really fucking tempting.

Virgil looked back at his phone. His mom would be so willing to help, and he could put this whole stress of Roman behind him. But on the other hands, it’s fucking ten thousand dollars.

...It was a stupid idea. It may have had Elliott’s wellbeing in mind, yet it was also selfish. But Virgil hadn’t had financial security since senior year, and every dollar helped. Also, it’s not like it was unfair. If he found Roman, no one would argue that he didn’t deserve it.

Virgil closed out of his contacts. It’s so stupid.

… But fuck it. It’s worth a shot.

Virgil sat on his bed and tried to think. How do you go about finding a missing person? What’s the first step?

Well, first off, he needed to find out the story. He needed to see if Roman was the kind of guy someone would want to disappear, or if he was loved enough to be held for ransom. Or maybe even just the kind of guy to want to run away from all his problems.

And the only way to find that out was from people who actually knew him.

But how do you track down the family of a guy you barely know?

...The Internet. Everything is on the Internet.

Virgil opened a tab on his phone’s search engine and googled Roman Goldsberry. If there wasn’t a paper on his disappearance where they ask a family member about him, then maybe the good old trackers that post everything about you will have something to say about it.

Lo and behold, something did pop up with Roman’s name. And it was infinitely better than Virgil could have imagined.

Virgil clicked on an article with a very interesting title: Goldsberry Brothers Join Forces for Special Valentine’s Day Sale.

“A brother, huh?” Virgil said to himself.

He clicked on the article and began to read the first paragraph:

Love is in the air at this time of year, where everyone scrambles to get the perfect gifts for significant others before the dreaded 14th! Although husbands may be spending too much money on romantic dinners for their wives, businesses take this as the perfect opportunity for sales. The US alone spends 20 billion dollars every year on different Valentine’s Day themed presents. But this year, the state favorite candy store “Wish Upon A Sweet” owned by Patton Goldsberry has teamed up with a floral shop popular in the candy chain’s hometown; owned by his brother, Roman Goldsberry.

...Roman owned a flower shop?

The fucking candy store guy was his brother?

Wish Upon A Sweet was one of the most popular candy stores in the state. Virgil’d gone there plenty of times since the chocolate single-handedly cured his depression, but he would have never pegged Roman to be related to the owner.

It’s a small world after all, Virgil thought.

But there was no time to be worried about candy. He had the name of the brother, now he needed to find a way to contact him.

Virgil went back to his browser and looked up Patton Goldsberry. Of course the website for the candy chain popped up, but Virgil wanted more than that. Instead, he clicked on a website built to find people that had all kinds of information on it.

And there, right above a personal phone number, was Patton Goldsberry’s address.

...I’m taking this too far. Virgil looked around his room to make sure no one was watching him being an utter creep. This guy’s brother is missing, I can’t just show up to his house!

“...Unless I make it seem like I’m trying to console him…” Virgil felt the anxiety pang deep inside his chest. It was a stupid idea, but maybe if it seemed like he wanted to help and told Patton he had met Roman, maybe Patton would be more willing to talk. If Virgil played the part, he could get more information on this guy, and he could make progress.

It felt like such a dick move. But it was also ten grand on the line here.

Plus, I don’t have to only be there to get info on Roman. I can still be nice to him.

He doesn’t need to know.

Virgil stuffed his phone in his pocket and walked out of his room. Before he could go out the front door, Elliott called to him from the same position on the couch Virgil left them in.

“Where are you going?”.

“Change of plans.” Virgil said. “Trust me, I’ve got an idea.”

And just like that, Virgil was off to a stranger’s house.