#i aggressively tried to match to the crews colors

[overtaken-stream]

i dont know your rules or if you have a masterlist but out of nowhere I got obsessed with King and i need more fics on him, my favorites are headcanons

so if you could write about him like yandere headcanons where he kidnapped reader who he caught insterest in

or bedroom headcanons like its canon that he is a sadistic pervert but do yo think he would like to be dommed by his s/o

I don't have any rules and no master list yet! But I'm glad you decided to send this ask! As a fellow King-starved OP fan it can be quite hard to find any content about him, especially as a Yandere, like- why, it works so well with him!! As for bedroom headcanons, I wrote this a while ago. Not exactly a straightforward answer to your question but still, I think you'll get the answer yourself. Also, I managed to fit some backstory about King😅 (most of it is actually his backstory) but I promise it explains his... yandareness... my writing style is different but I hope you'll like it. More ideas about this AU have come to me as I was working on this, so let me know if I should write part 2... Anyway, hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Spoilers for King's real name, his backstory, kidnapping, closed-off character, murder, arson.

No matter where Alber goes, there will always be a certain darkness following him, the darkness that began surfacing inside of him ever since he became a research subject at Punk Hazard. The memories of warmth are lost to him, his family members, their faces, their love, traditions- everything from his past turned into shadowy figures that visit him in the dead of night, where he laid bare on his back, defenseless and unable to move an inch.

Alber experiences, no- has experienced those lonesome nights too many times after his escape, with Kaidou at his side, passed out drunk, there was only so much he could do under the night sky, as the sweat rolled down his chin, awake and stricken with fear, haunted by the nightmarish masks and white coats. The extreme heat lingered under his skin, with no scars to show the battles he survived on the Punk, though he could still feel the consequences of others' actions.

Each day his loyalty to Kaidou grows and so does his disdain for the people they have met on their journey. Days and months soon turned into years, years he has spent becoming stronger, years he spent with Kaidou, he has to catch up with him, perhaps matching up to his strength, but that is reaching too far, for Kaidou is strong, stronger then he'll ever be. Each second his world shrinks down to only the hero, who had saved him, his vision is blind to the islands they traveled to and conquered, blind to the beaten-up bodies they defeated. The colors of his environment blur together, lost to the intriguing laugh of his captain. He stares after the huge back, a back which he has to fill with his own will and strength, He is no longer Alber, for the boy was a shadow that no longer belonged to his body, weak, only confident in his endurance, a prey waiting for salvation. The worthless name stood on empty grounds, a new title was given to him.

He tries his best and this time, his best is enough for the man he idolizes (He has to thank his biology). He backs up his captain and engraves his name onto the burnt enemy's back, King. He takes pride in his new title, fit for Joyboy's first-mate.

He is no longer Alber. He is now the predator that the scientists have tried to research and avoid. He puts on a nobles mask, made of the finest leather. He puts on a new identity, on that day, on that land, a monster was born, a monster that happened to burry its emotions into the depths of the ocean.

King smiles.

Even after their crew gets big, annoying comments from Queen are met with aggressive glares, his facial features are hidden behind a dark mask that's acting as an intimidation factor, he holds the crew together purely for Kaidou, there is no respect tugging at his actions, sentiment hasn't had a place in him for some time now. What he first felt when he met Kaidou only brings so much to the table, so little emotion, aside from authority. The dark grows, and even if he is emitting an eternal fire, ebony covers his frames, cooling the heat and leaving him in the chilliness of The Beast's shadow. In utter darkness.

King kills, tears the bodies up, and burns them until not even the bones remain. All he does is stare down at the screaming faces, staring them down as they did to Alber. All he sees is the red light coming from the burning village. The smell of rot follows after him as he walks down the streets of an unnamed island.

In a small cottage at the end of the town, he feels a presence hiding from him. Away from the door which he bursts through. He doesn't waste his time as he strides into the person's house, in a place he can see their shaking silhouette. His steps are loud in his tiny bubble, with no fire or scream entering his field of hearing, he doesn't hear the door shut itself, but he can feel the breaths that left the person's nose, and can hear the vibrations caused by their shaky figure across the floor. In the dark of the room, he opens a cabinet to find scared!you.

And his field of vision, which was locked onto Kaidou all this time, shifts. It gets bigger as he stares into your scared eyes, glossed over with tears trickling down your face, your expression is drowned in fear as you look up at him. Unknown to the feelings running through him.

The feelings, the emotions he buried long ago now seemed to resurface, looking at your sweat-covered forehead, his eyes travel over your form, they remain frigid, even as his heart rate speeds up, even as the world around you becomes darker, even as his breathing becomes heavy.

Up until now, only Kaidou existed, for Kaidou. With Kaidou. Now the narrow view of him widens as you, a mare civilian join the everlasting space that exists inside of him. Your eyes so bright, filled with fear attract him. Your face shape, so tender and beautiful. You are the only color that exists in the dark, the only light in the endless tunnel.

The house is dark, but you emit light, you stick out even when he has stopped using Observation Haki. You make him feel warm in a way that he has never experienced before.

His heart is beating faster and faster the longer your eye contact lasts, his wind was knocked out of his lungs by the time he moved.

As he takes you by your arm, you stay quiet in fear of what he could do, quivering as he wraps his fingers fully around your arm. Your legs are frozen, acting like dead meat when he drags you out of the untouched house, they barely move when you realize the situation you got into.

He doesn't answer your questions of what he is doing or where he is taking you, his ears only picked up your voice, so angelic and clear in the sparks of fire that lit your garments, your skin and hair shining in beautiful reds and yellows, though he would enjoy seeing your natural colors. In a setting much cooler, and less tragic than this.

His world warps once again, he doesn't falter when Jack tosses a strange look his way as he gets closer to their ship.

He remains unaffected by your insults and weak attempts to set yourself free from his grasp. His natural strength is much greater than yours will ever be.

He ends up taking you to his room, barely remembering the path he took to get there and the faces he must have come across. He only lets go of you when the door is locked.

#.my writing. #king the wildfire x reader #king one piece #one piece #king the wildfire #writing #Yandere!King The Wildfire #yandere #yandere character #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #one piece x reader #x reader #Yandere!King AU #king the conflagration

[banana-milk-enthusiast]

Just found out they took the Nicki Minaj: The Empire game off the app store and like I want to know why. You telling me that Kim Kardashian: Hollywood that came out in like 2014 is stills doing good enough to keep around. And the newer ones like Kendall and Kylie and Britney Spears: American Dream are all perfectly fine. But the Nicki Minaj game about being an up and coming mc/rapper with an mostly poc cast and a lgbt best friend character that isnt an aggressive stereotype wasnt good enough to be kept around. Okay then.

#its not like i got far enough to do much but still i miss it #but im so pissed its the only one thats gone while the kardashians are still milling around #no shame to the britney game i actually thought that one was cute #i miss dj runestone lol #excuse the few screenshots i had #i aggressively tried to match to the crews colors #blue black red and gold babey #nicki minaj the empire #kim kardashian hollywood #kendall and kylie game #britney spears american dream #to delete later i guess #not gonna lie if i wasnt a fan of the artstyle i wouldn't have touched these games with a ten foot pole

[treksickfic]

The City on the Edge of Forever

I’m so excited to share this with you, anonymous requester! After you sent in your prompt, I had another anonymous reader get in touch with me to let me know they’d already written a story that matched your wishes exactly. 

The author of this story is French, not a native English speaker, and they’ve written a beautifully touching story that expands on the TOS episode, City on the Edge of Forever.  I am posting it here on my blog, with their permission, because they do not wish to have an account nor have their identity attached to the story. This writer has already become dear to me and I’m honored that they trusted me with their writing. I hope you enjoy it!

It’s a long story, nearly 3,000 words, so RIP to your dash if you’re on mobile.  I didn’t want to post it on AO3 or anywhere else except my blog, which feels safer.

Trigger warning for panic attack and trigger warning for some mild emeto, if you’re sensitive to that. It’s not very graphic.

“James Kirk, I demand an explanation!”

Scotty, Uhura, the teleportation technicians, and the security guards were completely dumbfounded by the doctor's explosion. They watched the captain stagger off, livid, as if he had been punched in the stomach. He disappeared without a word, with long stiff steps, from the room.

“Jim!” yelled McCoy.

 “Not now, doctor.” Spock's cold, dry voice stopped him.

Spock squeezed McCoy’s arm firmly and Scott was sure to read in his black eyes a burst of fury. McCoy noticed it too, because despite the storm of his own eyes, he remained silent.

“Everyone, at your posts,” declared the Vulcan. “Scott, you are in charge for now.”

“Yes, sir.” Scotty nodded, refraining from asking any questions.

As soon as they had come through the Time Gate, seconds after they left, it seemed, but many weeks later for them, he had seen that they were not fine at all. The captain was pale, deaf to their questions, obviously struggling with the tears that filled his eyes. The doctor was just as white, his face contracted with a terrible anger. As for Spock, he kept his eyes fixed on Jim, his usual indifference altered by deep and obvious concern.

What the hell had happened?

This is precisely the question McCoy yelled at Spock, pulling himself brutally out of his grip as they entered his office, safe from prying ears:

“Damn it, Spock!”

 “If you calm down, doctor, maybe I could explain.”

 “Calm down? CALM DOWN? Shit, Spock! How do you want me to calm down?”

 “Breathing. Deep, and slowly. Start by sitting down.”

 “Don't fuck with me!”

 “The Vulcans don't fuck with people. Now, please calm down.”

 Jim killed someone without thought. There's no way I can calm down. Shit!”

Spock gritted his teeth and an aura of icy disappointment emanated from him:

“Jim killed someone without thought...do you get along, doctor? You've been aboard this ship for over a year. You even pretend to be the captain's friend. How can you accuse him of this without thinking for two seconds?”

 “I saw it ! He prevented me from—"

“--and your poor little mind preferred to give in to this abject emotion rather than try to find a logical explanation. Jim, the most compassionate man we know…would he have acted like this for no reason?”

These words had the effect of a cold shower on McCoy. He shook his head, gradually coming to himself. He hadn't actually thought for a single moment, mired in a nauseating fury that he hadn't even tried to control. Shame replaced anger and he sagged in his seat and closed his eyes for a moment.

The past few weeks had been a total blur. He had woken up in a room with antique furniture, with an adorable woman at his bedside: Edith Keeler. It had taken him some time to realize that she was neither a hallucination nor a very good actress, but that he was indeed in a different era. Back in the 1930s. And he had barely had time to figure it out and come out of the bedroom to find answers before Jim and Spock, overjoyed, fell on him.

The next second Edith was dead. And it was Kirk's fault., He had kept him from coming to her aid. It had been too much emotion, too quickly and too soon. He had not managed to digest it, even less to understand anything other than what he had seen:

Jim had killed Edith.

But now that Spock had brought him back to reality, it all seemed absurd. And he noticed certain details: His friend's trembling when he held him; the tears in his green eyes when he leaned against the wall; Spock's unusually soft words when he had defended Jim, "he knows doctor, he knows."

How could he have seen nothing? Holding back a moan, he confronted Spock's stern face again:

“Explain it to me.”

“I'll do it quickly. In the timeline of our current story, Edith Keeler dies in 1930. In the one you walked through, paranoid after the cordrazine syringe accident, her ideals of peace and openness reach Roosevelt's ears and America becomes a peaceful country. That prevents its involvement in the second world war. Germany wins and dominates the world. Our time, therefore, does not exist.”

“Oh.”

“By the time you got there, after roughly locating your destination, we got to know Edith. A very charming woman, particularly intelligent.”

“And, Jim—"

“Was deeply in love with her. But for the good of a whole world and not solely himself, he let her die and prevented you from committing irreparable damage.”

“My god.”

McCoy put his head in his hands, overcome with excruciating guilt. Spock watched him, suppressing the harsh words that itched on his lips. The man had realized his mistake. It was useless to add more in the current state. He sighed for a long time, feeling unpleasantly empathetic towards Jim. He admired the way the man had managed to silence all of his instincts to save everyone:

“You should go see him, doctor. I think leaving him alone right now is not the best solution. Especially since he slept and ate very little while we were on earth, and even less after he realized that Edith had to die. He was ill several times during the night. He needs help.”

“Perhaps it is better ... Chapel—”

“No, Leonard,” Spock said, as kindly as he could. “He needs you.”

McCoy let out a deep sigh. He felt silly, and unforgivable. But for the sake of his friend, and indirectly, the sake of the crew, he knew Spock was right. Grabbing his medical equipment, he left in the direction of the captain's quarters.

 *****

Jim rested his forehead against the cool edge of the toilet. The doctor's words were circling in his mind, adding further weight to his overwhelming grief. He felt sick, his stomach as tight as his chest. A discomfort that had become familiar over the past few days. The intense nausea that rolled and rolled, threatening at every moment to overflow was a most unpleasant physical manifestation of his stress.

Despite his efforts to conserve food that was already scarce in their daily life in 1930, there were times when he couldn't do anything about it. Nightmares woke him in an agonizing sweat, on the verge of ruining the atrocious coarse cover of their flop.

He managed each time to sneak into the bathroom before returning the meager pittance with spasms he tried to silence. He also appreciated the discretion of Spock, who had the delicacy of pretending to sleep when Jim returned to his bed several minutes later, breathless and exhausted. But now that he was alone, aboard the Enterprise, he had no reason to contain himself, and did not fight the gagging that came out violently, like revenge for being held back so long. His stomach, however empty, kept revolting, replacing his sobs with endless contractions.

He had barely activated the door to his quarters when they had started, and he had yielded to the spasms with some relief. As unpleasant as vomiting was, his whole body tense and sore as he curled up over the toilet, at least it kept him from thinking about it. Being sick kept his mind on constant alert, focusing his attention on the spasms, gasps, bile, burning and kept the fear away. Unbearable, interminable, but ... secondary.

He coughed cautiously, catching his breath, feeling even sicker from the pungent smell that hung around him…the smell as horrible as the way he felt. This place of suffering and abandonment suited him.

He leaned over awkwardly when the bile passed his throat for the umpteenth time and spilled out in a long convulsion. He grabbed his stomach and closed his eyes so he couldn’t see the mess coloring the water again. The dizziness began to build, the light becoming unbearable as a migraine took hold of his temples, seeping through to his sinuses. He shivered, trying to reach for the chase to vent some of his weakness, when a hand rested on his forehead. Incredibly cool, it brought such comfort that he could not suppress a fragile sigh.

Tenderly the hand placed a damp cloth on the back of his neck and then finally came to cover his eyes. There was the terribly aggressive sound of the toilet flushing, then a voice whispering for the light to drop to 20%.

That voice ...

His comfort immediately ceased, replaced by anguish. He coughed sharply, spitting out more bile in an effort to shake off the impending grief. He could do nothing against the intense tremors that made him gasp, nor the panicked sob that burst through the vomiting.

“Shhh, Jim.” The voice was a broken whisper. “Shhh, everything is fine.”

Kirk wanted to yell at him to go away, to leave him, not to hurt him anymore. Irrationally afraid of the anger that had rained over him earlier at the prospect of having to face reality. Instead he could only moan, shaken by a horrible, nauseating cough.

Feeling Jim shake and panic under his fingers, McCoy was crushed by an intense wave of guilt. He had seen Jim gripped with grief, stress, drunkenness, anger... but never so completely. It was the first time he seemed ... broken ... and it was largely his fault.

The abnormal heat radiating from his skin indicated a high fever and explained his lack of self control. McCoy took a syringe out of his bag and spoke in a very soft voice so as not to hurt his friend's headaches.

“Jim, I'm going to inject you with a painkiller, it'll help you relax.”

He had no other answer than a small hiccup and a burst of bile.

Nervous vomiting, McCoy noticed. It was serious. He was going to have to play it safe to get the captain to calm down enough to free himself from his sadness and he hoped the hypo would act quickly. He thrust the syringe into his biceps and took advantage of the slight respite that followed to quickly run the medical tricorder over Jim’s upper body.

The latter told him what he already knew: extreme stress, high fever, deficiencies in iron and magnesium, low blood pressure...nothing to indicate a gastric bug apart from weakness due to deficiencies, which reinforced his theory of psychogenic nausea.

McCoy was relieved to find that the sedative had done its work: Jim was shaking less and seemed more lucid.

“Bones...what--?”

Bones. So he didn't blame him. This man's empathy would kill him eventually, the doctor thought. He put a protective arm around the Jim’s shoulders and another under his chest to support him. He could feel the angry stomach muscles that continued to struggle and tighten. He gave a sad little smile.

“We are going to talk about all this. But first, we are going to get out of this horrible room. You need to lie down.”

“Um, that's not safe,” Jim grimaced with a little hiccup.

“I'll take a bucket, but I want you to lie down. Doctor's orders.”

 “If it's an o-order,” he stammered, in a slight attempt at humor.

Jim allowed himself to be helped without opening his eyes, too ill to protest, and too weak to fend for himself. Bones almost carried him to his bed.

Once lying down, McCoy carefully removed Jim’s boots and socks, pulled up a wonderfully warm blanket and put a cloth on his forehead. Then Jim heard the familiar whirr of the tricorder passing once more over his body and finally the sound of several mixes. Careful fingers rested on his right temple.

“Can you open your eyes?”

“Urgh, Bones, I'll throw up if I open them.”

“There is a bucket, don't hold back. I need you to look at me.”

Jim groaned but obeyed. The light, even though very dim, made him moan in pain. It penetrated his head like a blade and triggered, as announced, a violent nausea.

McCoy held him very gently as he threw up a thin trickle of bilious saliva. He fell completely exhausted on the pillow once the attack was over. The doctor muttered something unintelligible and wiped his face.

“I should send you to the infirmary, Jim. You have serious deficiencies and that added to the stress...this is a perfect combination for a migraine in due form. I'll put you on an IV to regulate your sugar levels and give you a strong pain reliever. It should help you feel better.”

Once everything was in place, a tactical, hesitant silence settled between them. Jim could feel his presence, sitting on the edge of the bed rather than a chair, and the warm, warm hand pressed to his shoulder. The exhaustion and sadness rose in power now that the disease could no longer build its walls around his mind. He saw Edith again. Edith and her sweetness, her love, her joy, her magnificent ideas.

"She's fair ... but not at the right time," Spock had said, trying to make her listen to reason when he...he told her that she had to...die. He had desperately looked for another way but...but—

He clenched his teeth, overtaken by the intensity of the pain. By the gesture. He had even been unable to look at her body. He had not turned around, refusing to see what he had just done, struck head-on by the horror and disgust emanating from the doctor.

He swallowed, feeling the tremors start again, the despair skyrocketing. McCoy, hearing the gasps in his friend's tight breath, tightened his grip on his shoulder.

“I ... I loved her...Bones—"

A tear gathered in the corner of his eye and he sniffled, trying to pull himself together:

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, his own emotions rising. “I ... I don't even know how to apologize.”

“You have nothing to excuse. You are right. I ... killed her.”

“No. You saved our world. You did what you had to.”

“Oh, you spoke to Spock,” Jim whispered with a bitter smile.

“Yes.”

Despite the darkness, McCoy could see the paleness growing and the captain's face tightening with the effort to hold back the sobs. He searched for a moment for words he could say to alleviate the pain. Not finding them, he shook his head.

Jim tried to speak, with difficulty. “I shouldn't—”

“You have the right to be sad. You just lost the one you love in an act of unimaginable courage. Jim, I'm an overly impulsive old fool, I can't even imagine what you've been through and I sincerely ask forgiveness for this unjustified anger.”

“Please, Bones—"

“No, let me finish. Thank you for your understanding, but you don't have to. I acted like an idiot.”

“You couldn't have known.”

“That's no excuse. I know you and should have taken a step back.”

“What is done is done.”

“Jim, what I'm trying to say is that you must not let my emotionally spoken words get to you. You didn't deserve it.”

“I...I searched and searched...and searched again. I couldn't get away from her even when I knew that—”

“You were in love.”

“No, Bones. I'm in love. A selfish person who regrets choices that he shouldn't regret.”

“You are human, and you are suffering. Let it go.”

Another tear rolled down, then another, and finally it was a torrent that poured into the pillow. The captain put a hand over his mouth to silence the gasps of despair and the overwhelming agony of loss. Bones gripped his shoulder, patting it in a comforting gesture. He watched Jim sob like a child, breathing laboriously through exhaustion and mourning. Then he gradually calmed down until he fell into a deep sleep.

The doctor sighed and wiped away his own tears that had started at the same time as his friend's, and that he had not tried to stop. He readjusted the IVs and scanned Jim’s body for the third time. His fever was still high from a mild viral infection after several weeks in the cold and fatigue undernourishment. Jim would be off for a few days and stay in bed.

When he left the room, the doctor was not surprised to find Spock standing and waiting with arched eyebrows.

“How is he?”

 “Exhausted and cold, but fine.”

 “Has he been able to express his sorrow?”

 “I guess, yes.” McCoy smiled, thinking of his friend's relaxed face as he left the room.

“And were you able to express yours?”

The doctor jumped slightly, not at all prepared for this question, much less for Spock to say it. He was sometimes pleasantly surprised by the well-hidden sensitivity of his Vulcan friend. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed it.

“You are about to cry.”

“Damned be your insight, Mister Spock,” the doctor growled, a little annoyed.

“Humans all must cry at one time or another to get better, doctor. I do not understand why you put a manly bulwark in front of this natural mechanism.”

Bones laughed. “Wouldn't you find it embarrassing for me to break down in tears right now in your arms?”

He expected Spock to answer him, "Vulcans don't know the gene, doctor." Instead he replied, in his usual relaxed and serene tone, “If that makes you feel better, no.”

Such compassion was so strange that it almost seemed out of place. Leonard burst out into a frank laugh that turned without realizing it into a flood of tears. Tears of his own sadness this time, not empathy or guilt. Sadness he didn't think he had. Maybe he was also a little in love with Edith after all. And that the Vulcan understood it well before him.

Spock, moreover, did not pretend to leave, contenting himself to stay by his side until McCoy’s tears turned back into laughter.

“Why are you laughing?” the first officer asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, Mister Spock, because I’m thinking of the absurd spectacle we would have made if someone had been there. The ship's doctor weeping like a baby in front of a motionless Vulcan and their captain's closed door.”

Spock coughed and McCoy would swear to anyone who wanted to hear it that he was blushing.

“Well, you're not a hopeless case,” he said with a smirk, patting him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Spock.”

Then he turned on his heel towards the infirmary without hearing the relieved sigh of his alien friend.

#star trek sickfic #sickfic #TOS sickfic #sick kirk #panicked kirk #emotional hurt/comfort #physical hurt/comfort #emeto #tw emeto #tw panic attack

[tentimesthecourage]

My Links

Okay, so while I use Rhythm for LU, I also use him to just be my version of CoH Link

In turn with that, I’ve also made Links for the other games too

There’s only a little bit of info for each of them, but I wanted to share anyway

Game: Breath of the Wild Nickname: Luminous - All about stealth and quiet - Favorite gear is Sheikah Armor - Best at making stealth potions - Prefers the Great Plateau over all other settlements in game - Actually doesn't mind company, just minds noise

Game: Ocarina of Time/Majora's Mask Nickname: History/Mystery (biological twins) - Both can answer any question about either journey - Both can use the weapons from either journey - The only ones who can tell them apart are the Kokiri - Mystery is older by five minutes but neither of them know that

Game: Four Swords Nickname: Bundle (shortened to Bun) - Not much into adventures - Only went on his adventure to save Zelda (Ribbon) - Working with his color brothers to make his adventure into a story - Prefers writing and painting to sword fighting - Is five people (Link, Blue, Red, Green, Vio) - Red came up with their/his nickname

Game: Twilight Princess Nickname: Nocte - Loves books - Still a ranch hand - Strong as fuck but no one knows why - Favorite books are Mystery and Horror but has a secret love for sappy slice of life romance - Cook of the group

Game: Wind Waker/Phantom Hourglass Nickname: Tide - Likes sailing but prefers deep sea diving - Friendly with Tetra and her crew after adventure - Not really into the pirate life - Constantly accidentally jump scared by Rhythm because he’s quiet

Game: Skyward Sword Nickname: Soaring (shortened to Soar) - Afraid of harming tiny birds (seems like he's afraid of the birds) - Fascinated by everything on the surface, documenting it - Loftwing’s name is Crim - Plays the lyre during down time

Game: Oracle of Ages/Seasons Nickname: Daybreak/Winter (Time Twins) - Got split into two during OoA (this is why we don't fuck with time!) - Daybreak is passive, Winter is aggressive - Winter is considered older - Both are extremely protective over each other - Winter is more emotionally sensitive, easily hurt - If Winter gets hurt (physically or emotionally) Daybreak can and will rage, it's scary

Game: Cadence of Hyrule Nickname: Rhythm - We know this precious boy already - Stims with his apple necklace and happy flaps - Signs when overwhelmed - Has to constantly move - Anxious and shy - Can still fight, no one is allowed to underestimate him except his enemies, then they regret it

Game: Link's Awakening Nickname: Nightlight (teasingly called 'Nightmare', allows it) - Insomniac - Cuddler, anyone who lets him, he'll cling to them - Abandonment issues - Soft boy - History and Mystery are particularly attached to him

Game: Minish Cap Nickname: Mico (combo of Minish and Picori) - Spends most of his time in Minish form, it's a comfort to him - Utterly petrified of cats, even at Hylian size - Loves dogs, finds them very helpful (nod to the manga) - Understands and can talk to animals (another nod to manga)

Game: Zelda 1 & 2 Nickname: Mystic - Part fae, mother was a fairy, doesn't know his father - Partial to water magic - Not ashamed of his heritage, but only shares it with those he trusts - Does his best to warn those he cares about of the rules - Hates when his friends are in debt to him

Game: TriForce Heroes Nickname: Meadow, Ember, Mist (Triplets) - Mist is oldest, Ember is the middle, Meadow's the youngest - Their nicknames don't match their colors (Mist is green, Ember is blue, Meadow is red) - Ember's favorite outfit is the Legendary Dress, Mist's favorite is Torrent Robe, Meadow's favorite is the Kokiri Clothes

Game: A Link to the Past Nickname: Mel - Quiet, seems standoff-ish - Very lonely but doesn't want to bother others for company - Afraid of Bun (see Palace of the Four Sword /Note: That's not the Bun he's around, different timelines/) tries not to show it - Nightmares about his Uncle's death - Give him a hug please - A huge form of trust is letting people hold him when he’s in Dark World form - Currently the people allowed to do so are Steam, Rhythm, Bun, Mico, and Mystic

Game: Spirit Tracks Nickname: Steam - Local tired engineer - Will sucker punch anyone who talks badly of his friends - Super protective over Mel - Can solve a rubix cube in under 20 seconds

Game: A Link Between Worlds Nickname: Starlight - Twinsies with Zelda - Loves baking - Will never acknowledge his royal status (it embarrasses him) - First time he ran into Ravio in his house, he decked him on accident, ended up bawling apologies thus flustering the rabbit man into calming him down

Game: Hyrule Warriors Nickname: Orion - Retired from captaincy after the war - Doesn't trust anyone touching him unless they have a strong bond - Doesn't trust love/afraid of love - Place is on fire "This is fine"

#Behind the scene #My Chain of Links #LU Rhythm

[hisunshiine]

primal |kth|

♡ 𝘵𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘹 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 ♡ 𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳!𝘵𝘢𝘦 𝘹 𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺!𝘰𝘤 ♡ 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵 ♡ 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 @shades_of_blue

—

“I saw you and him! You let him feed you.. Let him touch you..” His eyes, typically your favorite shade of deep mahogany were now black.

“Tae, I swear, it was innocent. If I had refused, they would have known.. I think they suspect so—”

Tae’s large hand tightened on your throat slightly, and you gasped, arching slightly.

“Kneel.”

-6 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘰-

You had just gotten hired by KimHit Entertainment, an up and coming company that had great talent of all kinds signed to them. They worked with multiple artists, rappers like RM and Agust D, singing dance duo J-Hope and Jimin (J2J), had content creators/artists like JayKay and Vante, and they were all managed by Kim Seokjin, one of the most famous vocalists in the world. He had decided to create a company to help others flourish once he felt like he had met all of his own goals.

While he still made music, he wanted to make sure to solidify himself as a top tier business man as well, like his father before him. He took over his dad’s small company and created a chaebol with his ability to spot talent and help it bloom. His brother had recently run the food services department for KimHit, but he had recently gotten married, so he was unable to do the tours for the next 2 quarters.

You had gone to culinary school with Seokjin’s older brother, which was how you found out about the company, and applied. Despite your love for music, your job however, had nothing to do with being “Talent”, unless you counted what you did in the kitchen.

“Carla, holy fuck, this is delicious!” Nayeon had just licked her finger clean from where she had dipped it into your batter for the dessert for the Talent. She went to double dip, and you swatted her hand away with the oven mitt you were holding.

“Yes, that’s why I was hired. But Gemini is coming down soon to eat, and they need to be fed before their performance tonight. A 2 hour set is no joke.” Nayeon nodded and backed away, hands up.

“Fine, fine.. I’m headed back to my station, but save me some please!” She smiled as she turned and headed to the door, her slim hips swaying as she disappeared through the swinging doors of the kitchen.

You finished plating the main dishes and began trekking them through the same swinging doors to set up for the meal. Each venue had a different style, but with tours, within the country, it was easier on you to maintain a routine. Traveling across the globe with bigger artists meant you had to go with them to each stadium or arena and cook with the kitchen they provided. Here in your home country, you could easily travel from home to work each day, prepare the meals, set up the spread, and relax. Others were hired to handle the clean up. You hustled back and forth, carrying out the now heavy metal serving dishes before the cast and crew arrived for their pre-show meal.

Panting slightly, you shook your head. How you were not losing weight at a faster rate was beyond you, but you liked that you maintained your curves despite the bustle of this job. Cooking protein rich and healthy fat filled foods helped you keep your more curvy figure. You were happy with your natural assets; you’d never had a problem filling out your outfits in all the right places, and direct or indirect compliments on your figure from the opposite sex had become the norm for you.

You watched the managers slowly file in, followed by the lighting crew, music techs, videographers and more, getting their food before running off to carry out various pre-show set up. They thanked you, happy with the upgraded meals they received ever since KimHit hired you.

“Hi.”

You jumped, not expecting the baritone voice to sound. Turning, you clutch your now racing heart as you take in a remarkable face—jawline that could slice the cake you had been placing, cheekbones that had to have been sculpted by Michaelangelo himself, and a toffee colored gaze that heated you to your core.

“You scared me!” you squeaked out, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

“Sorry,” his voice—as familiar as it was smooth—continued, “I just wanted to say that this smells… delicious.”

You shivered, sure that he was talking about more than the food. That he could smell the arousal mixed with fear as his predatory gaze continued to drink you in, tracing each curve slowly as if he could imagine what you would feel like if he stared long enough. Hard enough.

You attempted to breath slowly, knowing that predators enjoy the toying, and will chase when their prey panics and runs. You naturally responded to his movements, extending the chase when you whirled around and went back to what you were doing. You heard him take a sharp inhale, and inwardly smiled.

5, 4, 3, 2…

“Thanks,” you replied, barely giving him a glance as you straightened back up and made to walk past him. Pausing, you place your hand on his shoulder almost in a motherly way, though the way your voice had taken on a sultry tone suggested you were anything but.

“Let me know if there’s anything else you want to eat.”

As you walked into the kitchen, you heard him let out a low chuckle, and felt excitement bubble within you.

Kim Taehung, or Vante, was the famous photographer that KimHit managed, and would be helping out with catching still photo content for various artist’s within the company. Part of Seokjin’s philosophy was to have his talent work with each other, to build camaraderie across the different mediums as well as maintain wealth within the company.

It was well known within the entertainment world that Taehyung had an… eccentric taste. Once you started working at KimHit, you found out that it was not just within his art. He had been spotted by other coworkers frequenting Primal—a sex club for the elite to delve into their deepest desires. You and Nayeon had bonded over your love for Vante and his art, and she had shared this information.  

Another stylist had gone with him once, and shared quite eagerly with Nayeon and the other stylists that he was definitely a dominating type, that he enjoyed the pursuit of his partner, and was essentially, a predator.

You had done exactly the thing to drive him to begin the chase. You responded to him in a way that caught his attention, and then tried to quell your prey driven response and assert yourself as unaffected. If there was one thing that was going to make him pursue it was the dismissive way you treated his compliment paired with a very forward statement. He wanted to know more about you, wanted to push your limits, to conquer you.

Taehyung began his pursuit not long after that first encounter and you played along, as he aggressively flirted, took you out on dates, and then, like a chess match, called his checkmate. And you were his Queen.

The only problem was that you were under contract with KimHit to not become romantically involved with any of the Talent. Tae knew this, and was careful with his behaviors in public. He maintained his stoic disposition when in company of others, but once the cafe area was empty, he was dragging you away before you could lock up. Tae was all over you, mouth ravishing your body as his hands took possession of your body, laying claim to every curve, tracing the swell of your breasts, the roundness of your ass, squeezing your thighs tightly as he buried his cock deep within your walls.

-Earlier that day-

Gemini, the girl group who had been on tour previously was finished with their schedule, and you would be staying on for the next round of artists. This consisted of the prominent male artists, J2J opening for RM and Agust D, who had recently dropped a joint album. These sets of performances were different from your previous tour in that they would be holding performances at the same arena for the span of a month, allowing fans all over the country to have time to come see them before the month was up.

There was just one catch to the good news of being able to work for a month without traveling. Taehyung would be leaving for a month to work on his own art, paired with JayKay who would be the videographer for his project. Neither of you were happy about being separated, especially since he was friends with all of the men you would be cooking for, who knew nothing about the two of you dating.

He would never tell you that that was his reason, he had never said anything about his friends talking about you when they saw you in the KimHit office cafe working, when there were no Gemini schedules at the venues in town. Or, how they lusted over your body, your lovely features, your soft and gentle manner, over everything that was his . Every predator’s biggest fear is losing their territory.

It wasn’t that Tae didn’t have faith in you, it was that he understood how other predators were. You belonged to him in a different way now, he had already conquered you in a prey-like aspect. You were almost akin to pups, cubs, or other vulnerable babies of mammal species. You were his. Call you territory, call you a kitten or cub, you belonged to him. And anyone sniffing around what was his... well it didn’t sit well with him.

The night before he left, he marked you, trailing merlot colored bruises down your neck, across your collarbone, accompanying bite marks to your chest, scarlet handprints staining your skin on your backside, small fingerprint sized marks showing his lasting grip to your hips and thighs, if only he could be sure that he had left lasting marks to your heart.

He was in love with you, which scared him. He feared you leaving him while he was gone more than anything else. More than you not loving him back. He could deal with you not loving him as long as you didn’t leave .

While you slept in his arms that last night, after that particularly rigorous session, he held you, whispering his love into your hair in the dead of the night, silent prayers that you would still be his when he returned.

—

Taehyung enjoyed his time traveling around France for the month. With Jungkook as his companion and you being on the other end of the many FaceTime calls, it wasn’t so hard for Taehyung to get through the month. He felt his insecurities subside a little more  when he called you and you answered. He knew that you weren’t in danger of leaving him.

You on the other hand struggled with his absence. Your body craved his touch, and you spent evenings touching yourself in hopes that it would feel like him, but it never did. The new talent you were working with  didn’t make it any easier for you while missing Taehyung.

J-Hope, half of the dancing duo J2J,spent almost the entire month flirting with you, relentlessly. He was handsome, tall, lithe; his body, moved in ways you’d never seen before until he took the stage. You loved Taehyung and had no intentions of cheating on him.  However, you missed the up close and personal attention you’d become so accustomed to with Taehyung, and you enjoyed the attention from J-Hope—or Hobi, the name he asked you to call him.

He shamelessly flirted with you nonstop, to the point that you were fairly certain Tae would be highly upset if he were to witness it. But it appeared harmless to you since your heart and body were already taken by Taehyung, even if no one else knew it.

—

“Hey,” Hobi approached you while you were finishing up for the day, catching you right before you disappeared behind the swinging metal kitchen doors. “I had a question for you.”

“Sure, what’s up?” your hands were positioned on your hips as you turned, and you didn’t miss the way his gaze took its time traveling up before settling on your own.

“I wanted to have a small party tonight, to celebrate the end of the performances. I’ll text you the address, I would love for you to come.”

“Oh, I’ll have to see...” you replied, knowing that Taehyung and JayKay would be arriving back to town that evening.

“Please, Carla, I hope you can make it.” Hobi stepped closer, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “At the very least, can I pay you to make a cake for the celebration tonight?”

You found yourself nodding to that. That way you could still do something nice for a friend without upsetting Tae by spending his first night back home out with his friends and not with him.

“Of course, Hobi. Just text me the address. I’ll make you your favorite… my signature Devil’s Food Cake with Cream Cheese icing and strawberries.”

“You’re an actual angel, babe.” Hobi smiled his heart shaped smile, but the glint in his eye was as devilish as the cake you planned to make. “I can’t wait. The party is black and red attire… but please, come in all white.”

—

Texting Tae, you mentioned that you would be a little late to his place due to a last minute catering stop. You had started doing small catering services since you wouldn’t be traveling out of town this month, so it wasn’t unusual for you to tell Tae that you needed an hour or two in order to fulfill orders for your customers.  

Before leaving for the party, you double checked the white body con dress you had put on. It had a heart shaped neckline with baby doll straps, and you had tied your hair into a chignon, slicked back to show off your decolletage. A simple necklace with a small camera charm hung from the chain rested almost into your cleavage, the tiny diamond in the lens catching the light from the bulb in the hallway.

Liking the reflection you saw, you carted off your finished cake to your SUV and made your way to the location on your map.

Turning onto a main road, you had thought that the party Hobi was hosting was at his own place, but as you pulled into a parking lot you couldn’t help but notice the bright red sign. Primal . The very club that allowed people to explore their sexual desires on the second floor while the dance floor allowed people to party on the first. You had always wanted to come here after you found out about Taehyung coming here, but as the top floor was invite only…

Once you had started dating Tae in secret, you had forgotten about this place, not needing to seek out a place to explore your fantasies when they happened in his bedroom now. Unloading the SUV, you carried the boxed cake towards the entrance, where the bouncer at the front signalled for you to enter.

“Hoseok said to be on the lookout for the angel in white with a cake.”

You laughed to yourself, warmth crossed your cheeks at the description.

“Just head to the desk, tell them you’re headed to room 7, the password for your party is ‘hope in hell’.”

Following the instructions he gave you, the attendant at the desk led you to the door of room 7, which was tucked in the back corner of the second floor. She opened the door, which allowed you to walk into the room, lit with red lights. Music was playing throughout the speakers on the walls, and you heard the chatter of the party goers as you ascended into the depths of Primal.

“Carla!” Hobi’s voice called over the hum of the party and you turned to take in his outfit, all black to match his hair. He waved you in his direction, and upon reaching him, you handed the box off and he placed the cake on the table beside him.

“Wow, this looks amazing!” he said as he unboxed it, eyes turning back to you as he licked his lips. “Purely… delectable.”

You couldn’t help the way your body reacted. Taking in how you responded to his words, he smirked as he watched you look away. Looking around the room now, you were able to take in the scene. You truly were the only person that was in white. You could see people gyrating on each other, talking closely in small groups, drinking their fair share of alcohol, and disappearing into other rooms with each other, carnal looks in their eyes. Hobi grabbed a strawberry and held it to your mouth. You opened when it touched your bottom lip, but he teased you, trailing it along your full bottom lip before pushing it slowly into your mouth. You bite, taking in the sweetness of the fruit.

Setting down the tuft of green left over, he grabbed a napkin, clearing his fingers of the red residue before grabbing another strawberry, which he handed to you.

“Feed me.”  

Unable to say no to his demand, you oblige. You had drawn an audience since you walked through the door; heated gazes on you, watching your every move, you couldn’t have said no to the host, and he knew it. Holding the strawberry up to him, his lips wrapped delicately around the plump fruit, teeth seamlessly slicing through it as some of the red liquid dripped down his chin. Your gaze follows the trail of it and you bite your lip.

“Thank you again, angel.” Hobi pulls your glance back to his eyes, stepping closer towards you for a hug.

“Thank you for inviting me Hobi, I can’t stay long, but I appreciate it.”

As he gathers you into a hug, you feel his hands drift down along your curves, hands holding your ass in a way that prevented you from moving away from him. His length, hard, pressed between your thighs and you felt his lips ghost over your neck.

“Do you have enough time for me to show you a good time?” he asked, and as much as you would have said yes if you were single, you had Taehyung possibly already waiting for you at your place.

“Sorry, I can’t tonight.” You pout, trying your best to be vague. No one knew about you and Tae, and you had to keep it that way.

“Not tonight? So when can I get you all alone?” This time, his teeth nipped at your skin, and you involuntarily shivered in his arms, moving closer into his grip.

“Um..” you tried hard to formulate words, his dominating persona calling to the submissive in you.

“𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗻'𝘁.”

Taehyung’s low voice practically growled as his hand gripped your neck possessively. Hobi released you, his eyes a mischievous smile as he took in the way your head turned in response to Tae’s voice, body moving towards him as if it was second nature.

“She’s mine, Hobi-hyung.”

The song was low, changing from one to another, and you felt the eyes of the other guests on the three of you. From your peripheral you could see that RM, Suga, and Jimin were watching, amused, while JayKay was standing off to the side of Tae, snickering.

“Ahhhh,” Hobi said, mind putting together all of the information over the past few months. The way that Taehyung had always grown quiet when they talked about asking you out until he would forcefully say that you were unavailable, that you had told him you weren’t single. The way you had turned down all the advances Hobi had made. The way that Taehyung seemed to almost be enraged when the crew would talk about your sumptuous body. His eyes met Jin’s, who shrugged and pretended not to see anything, walking away with a girl who had on a black lingerie set.

Tugging your hand, Tae led you towards a door and pulled you inside. It was dim, quiet, empty of passerby and onlookers.

Taehyung turned to face you, backing you towards the door you had just walked through. His arm reached over you, swinging the door shut so you were pressed against it.

“I’m gone for a month, Carla... and this is how you behave when Daddy is away?” His eyes don’t meet yours, instead they follow the path his finger makes as it trails down your cheek, slow and deliberate.

“I was trying to keep up appearances… I was about to leave, I promise.”

“Didn’t much look like you were trying to leave. Looked like you were allowing him to touch what was mine.”

“Tae, I promise—” your voice was frantic, worried he would leave you, but he cut you off.

“I saw you and him! You let him feed you.. Let him touch you..” His eyes, typically your favorite shade of deep mahogany were now black.

“Tae, I swear, it was innocent. If I had refused, they would have known.. I think they suspect so—”

Tae’s large hand tightened on your throat slightly, and you gasped, arching slightly.

“Kneel.”

Falling to your knees, your eyes meet the floor as you watch his slip on black Gucci loafers circle around you. You can hear his fingers meddle with his belt.

“You,” he paused, attempting to tame his anger, “are mine.”

His hand gripped your chignon, pulling your head in whatever direction he wanted as he continued speaking. You kept your body loose so that he could control your movements. Angling your head to look up at him, he took his other hand and used his fingers to pinch your cheeks and open your mouth.

“This mouth… is mine.”

His cock, standing at full length, entered your mouth roughly and you slackened your jaw to allow his girth to fill your hole. He face-fucked you, hips snapping as he plunged his cock into your throat. You hollow your cheeks, running your warm tongue along the bottom and grazing his frenulum. The flared tip caught on your lips as he pulled out, and you suckled the head how he liked as he held your face still with only the tip engulfed in the warmth of your mouth.

“Fuck, like that angel.” Taehyung expressed his enjoyment with low grunts and caresses to your face as you did your best to please him and apologize for what he witnessed.

“Ah, this mouth is sinful… aren’t you my little angel?” he asked, removing himself from your lips with a lewd popping sound. His hands moved to your chignon and he pulled out the pin holding it together, allowing your hair to fall.

“Yes,” you panted, short of breath, “I’m your angel.”

He nodded with a low hum, and brought you to stand. His mouth was harsh, rough as he kissed and bit your now swollen lips with his own. His grasp on your body was tight; you expected to see small fingertip bruises from his grip in the morning.

Pulling away, the trail of saliva from your mouth to his strained thin before snapping, and Tae was more turned on than ever watching the way you leaned forward chasing the kiss.

“You aren’t acting like my angel... You’re dressed like her, but you haven’t been behaving like her.”

As he moves through the room, you finally take in your surroundings. The room is mostly bare, no bed, but there is a small love seat on the wall to the left and a door in the wall straight ahead that had a sex swing attached to it. Your stomach flipped in excitement. Taehyung gave you a series of looks and, without words, you obeyed his commands. He had you naked and strapped into the swing in a matter of minutes, shedding his flowing black silk shirt.

“That’s better… the white dress made you look too pure for what I’m about to do to you.”

Running his cock along your folds, your slick coated the tip and he pushed himself into you without much prep. This was a part of your punishment, you knew, and the feeling of him so full inside of you had your body adjusting to him with more of your juices produced with every thrust he made. Your legs were propped up in the sex swing, held by straps that wrapped around your thighs, and you slid up along the door with the force of Taehyung’s hips.

“You’re mine, Carla. All mine.”

“Yes... Fuck, yes Tae, I’m yours.”

His teeth marked your neck, his large hands gripping your thighs and you could feel the throbbing of his dick as he continuously buried it inside of you. You moaned out, unable to stay quiet after a month of being deprived of him. His scent filled the surrounding area and enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but feel like it wasn’t enough, you wanted more of him.

“Please Tae.. I need… I— I need m-more...”

He thrusts into you deeply, slapping your ass as he pushes against your cervix and you cry out, nails digging into his back. You’re sure that you’ve left small crescent moons along his shoulder blades. He circles his hips while remaining deep inside of you, and he growls in your ear.

“You feel so good, God, I missed you.”

“-m-missed you… too...”

“It’s so tight, baby. I’m gonna… fuck, I’m gonna fill you so good baby.”

“Please,” you beg, and he drops his hand down to press against your clit.

You felt it building fast, the pull in your abdomen and as your hips bucked to gain more friction against his hardened member, you squeezed around him, feeling every curve and vein along the shaft and he bit hard onto your shoulder, his hot cum filling you up.

Crying out, you’re so close, but Tae pulls out of you, eyes meeting yours. And you know he’s not going to allow you release at this moment. Punishment for your earlier behavior.

You almost whine at him, exhausted because all you want is to fall apart before you fall asleep wrapped in his arms. You make to say something to him, going against your submissive state to tell him that you want more, you want to finish, before his voice whispers a command.

“Clench.”

You follow his directive, using your walls to force his cum out of you and you smile sleepily as you hear his slight intake of breath as you feel him drip down your thigh. The pads of his fingers are gentle as he scooped it back up and tucked his release back inside of you, two fingers eliciting a quiet, slick sound as they enter your abused core.

“You can cum later tonight baby, after I get you home...”

You nod, glad that he was going to allow you an orgasm at some point tonight. He leans forward to kiss you, his tongue tangling lazily with yours as he releases you from the sex swing.

“.. If you earn it.”

RUNNER UP COVER THAT DIDN’T WIN BUT I LOVE IT TOO SO HERE IT IS

#hisunshiine #hisunshiinewritings #kim taehyung #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x original character #bts #bts smut #bts v #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung dom #primal au #hisunshiine primal #bts writings #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts au #kim taehyung au #jung hoseok #hobi #kimhit ent

[peanutsandbitterstep]

Frost Damage

GBF Fanfiction

Summary: The new addition to the crew is too much of a reminder of the past for Seox’s liking.

Normally, Seox looks forward to returning to the Grandcypher. He leaves for Eternal missions so often and misses so much while he’s away. The last time he’d come back, he’d wanted to hear Djeeta, Lyria, and Vyrn recount their adventures. There were members of the crew whose company he wouldn’t mind.

Now, though, fear is coiling in his gut. Old fears of hurting the people he comes in contact with. Of losing control of his power.

‘Maybe you should be,’ part of his mind whispers. ‘After all, you’re the monster who destroyed your first home.’

‘No. I’m past that. My power is for protecting people,’ he tells it firmly.

“Seox!” He looks up and Lyria is waving to him from the side of the ship. “Welcome back!”

He lifts his hand to greet her and murmurs, “I’m home.”

Once he’s onboard, Vyrn says, “Nice to see you back and in one piece, Masked Wonder. Hope you like eel because we got barrels of ‘em.”

He shrugs. “They’re fine.”

“You won’t believe how big some of them get!”

“It spit poison at us, but luckily, Katalina was there to protect us,” Djeeta says.

As the three of them tell him about the monster eel that attacked beachgoers, his anxieties quiet, as they usually do. He stops by his room and checks on his plants.

One in particular is heavily overgrown and he has to take it out of the pot to prune the roots, before trimming the leaves and replanting it.

Before he knows it, hours have passed and there’s still something he needs to check on. It’s getting dark outside and people are still socializing on the deck of the ship. As he guessed, Djeeta is among them and she immediately comes toward him as soon as she spots him.

“Oh good, I was about to look for you,” she says. “You haven’t eaten, right? There might still be some leftovers. You should get it before someone else does.”

She grabs his arm and he decides this isn’t worth fighting. Especially not since he actually is hungry. The dining hall is half empty, so they’re able to get a table to themselves.

“So when do you think your next mission will be?” she asks, nibbling on some crackers.

“Soon. Maybe in two weeks.”

“That’s not a lot of time,” she says, disappointed. “Still, I’m glad you’re here.”

That doesn’t seem like a good sign. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I’m just happy to see you.” In a playfully aggressive tone, she says, “You’re my friend and I’m happy to see you. Is that crime?”

“That’s not– I was just worried.” Speaking quickly to avoid a change in subject, he says, “How’s Nehan?”

“Still spending a lot of time in his room, but less than before, so that’s something, at least,” she says. “Is that why you were worried? Because you’re worried for him? Or about him doing something?”

His feelings are too tangled to give a proper answer. Even if he were to worry about Nehan, it isn’t as though he’d be able to help in any way.

As for the other thing, he feels almost paranoid thinking about it. Unlike him, Nehan is a full-time member of the Grandcypher by necessity. Harming the crew would be to sacrifice the only protection he has from any vindictive mafia members. But still, Nehan has the capacity to do a lot of harm and the help he’s given Stardust Town, the Enforcers, and the Eternals isn’t enough to quell that fear.

“I know you said you didn’t want to talk to him the last time you were here, but what about now?” Djeeta asks.

“There’s nothing I could say to him. I can’t make up for my past actions.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “But do you want to talk to him?”

“If talking to him would help him in some way. But even my presence is painful to him.”

The last time Nehan had really spoken or even looked at him was their battle at the Karm hamlet. And sometimes, it seemed like he couldn’t bear even being in the same room.

Djeeta looks worried and Seox says, “I don’t know if this is something that can be changed. I don’t want to force an interaction that will only bring harm.”

Still doubtful, she says, “Okay. If you say so.”

Seox doesn’t see Nehan at all during the week and a half that he spends on the Grandcypher. Then he has to leave for another Eternal mission. The mafia wars are keeping all of them busy, especially Feower and Tien, and the rest of the world still have issues that need to be taken care of.

It’s another few months until he returns to the Grandcypher.

The first surprise is seeing Nehan outside and talking to someone. The second is his expression.

Nehan had woken up exhausted and purposeless. Sometimes, Mugen would be able to elicit some kind of energy, but it was always short-lived.

Now, though, there’s light in his eyes and not from fury or Trancensia. Seox doesn’t know what changed or what Lyria could be saying that would spark such an interest, but Nehan actually looks alive for once.

Then he catches sight of Seox and it dies, just like that. His body takes on a forced stillness that could be mistaken for relaxedness if someone wasn’t looking hard enough. He lifts his hand–

“Seox, you’re back!” Phoebe runs up to Seox and he tears his eyes off Nehan. “Um, we’re redecorating Raduga and we’d like to get your opinion too.”

Grateful for the distraction, he follows her to the subgalley and spends more time than he thinks is necessary on the color of the placement mats. But he needs the reminder that he can do more than destroy.

He has to leave the crew sooner than expected.

“Did Nehan come talk to you?” Lyria asks.

“No.”

“Oh… he said he would.”

“Maybe he chickened out?” Vyrn says.

“Is it something important?” Seox asks.

“He can say it next time you come back,” Djeeta says, which isn’t what he asked.

He’s in a hurry, though, so he can’t press for more details. But he ruminates on what Nehan could possibly want to say to him every chance he can.

Maybe something about his past that he doesn’t know about? There’s plenty of that. Maybe it’s something that would require him to leave the crew. That’s probably ridiculous, but he can’t get the thoughts out of his mind.

He doesn’t allow that to distract him from the mission, though. He’s an Eternal which means he’s one of the strongest in the Sky Realm and personal matters cannot get in the way.

So that isn’t the reason he gets poisoned. His opponents were able to get reinforcements faster than he anticipated, which was nothing he couldn’t handle, but it did mean one of them was able to land a hit with a blade coated in snake venom.

Seox has a resistance to it, which means he does not die, much to the chagrin of his enemies. But it does slow him down and that’s more a blow to his pride than anything else.

He returns to the Grandcypher and is immediately challenged to a sparring match by Ayer. He’s improving steadily, a little faster and a little stronger than the last time they’d sparred.

“Are you holding back?” Ayer asks during a lull. “You’re slower than before.”

“That’s not what you should be concerned about,” Seox says and goes on the offensive.

Ayer is talented, but he’s not the best. Not yet. He takes his loss with relative grace and Seox makes his escape before anyone can ask prying questions.

Surprisingly, the one who stops him is Shao. “So would you say that your last mission was a difficult one?”

“No more than usual,” he says shortly. “Why?”

“Any serious injuries? Or is it just fatigue?”

“Get to the point.”

Shao chuckles. “So impatient. If you need my assistance, you should let me know. The captain and the others should be getting back from their mission soon.”

He isn’t sure how he should take that. Shao’s expression remains as enigmatic as always. “Is that a threat?”

“Not at all. I’m merely pointing out that if it really is a serious injury, you’ll be seeing me one way or another. I just thought I’d save all of us some time.”

Seox tries to imagine how this conversation will go, what would happen if he were to just walk away, what Djeeta, Lyria, and Vyrn would say.

He should be fine, but the poison is affecting him for longer than he expected. It would definitely be more embarrassing to have to come back to Shao later and admit something was wrong.

“It’s just snake venom. It’s not fatal.”

“Hmm.” Shao tilts his head and then leads Seox to his room. As he opens his giant wooden chest, he asks follow up questions about the venom and its effects.

After Seox begrudgingly agrees to an examination, Shao hands him a bottle of medicine with instructions on when and how much to take.

“Like you said, it doesn’t seem to be fatal. But if you feel worse, let me know immediately.”

“How much?”

“Nothing. I’m doing this as a favor.”

“I don’t want a favor. Tell me your price and I’ll pay it.”

“Oh, it’s not a favor for you,” Shao says and shoos Seox out of his room.

Seox does feel a marked improvement the next day, but he has no clue who the favor would be for or why they would use it for him. Many of the crew members are too straightforward to not give some indication that they’re the culprit, but none of them are.

He’s called away on a mission sooner than expected. He bids a quick goodbye to Djeeta and hurries toward the dock, planning what the quickest route would be.

“You’re leaving quickly.”

Seox stops short on the ramp and turns. Nehan is leaning on the railing, looking down at him. He looks tired, but his eyes aren’t dead pools of nothing at the very least.

“I have a mission.”

“Right.” With no transition, he asks, “How far did you get in building your poison immunity?”

‘Before you snapped and murdered everyone,’ Nehan means, but does not say.

Seox hadn’t really been in a position to keep up the regimen after being locked away and then he’d had other things to worry about after that.

“Enough to not die. But you’d have more knowledge about it than me.”

Nehan glances to the side. “I guess that’s true. Good luck on your mission.” He disappears back to the ship and Seox leaves.

Was that the only thing Nehan had wanted to say to him? Surely not, he had to have just heard from Shao. Then…?

The mission is rough. All Eternals need to get their hands dirty from time to time, but some hit closer to home than others. He just wants to return home and not think about inheritances and dashed dreams.

As soon as he climbs aboard the Grandcypher, he hears,

“Seox!”

“Masked Wonder!”

And both Lyria and Vyrn lunge for his mask.

Seox throws himself to the side and manages to dodge. “Wait! Hold on!”

Lyria does not, joyfully shouting, “You’re back!”

“It’s good to see you!” Vyrn says, and it is absolutely unfair  that he can use his wings to attack from above. “Now, Djeeta!”

Seox whirls around, but she’s already right there and she snatches the mask off his face.

“Welcome back,” she says, grinning.

He’s about to respond, when he looks over her head and finds Nehan across the ship, staring at him as though he’s seeing a ghost.

“What?” he snaps, taking his mask back and pressing it over his face which is rapidly turning red.

Nehan shakes himself and waves Seox off before going inside.

“Do you want to talk to him?” Djeeta asks.

“I…” Seox thinks about all his questions.

‘What were you going to talk to me about months ago? Why were you asking about poison? What did that look mean?’

And he thinks about the weight of sins and whether he has the right to make a move.

“If you want to talk to him, I think you should,” Lyria says.

“Yeah, nothing’s going to change if you don’t talk to each other,” Vyrn adds.

Djeeta gives him a thumbs up.

Fifteen minutes later, Seox is knocking on the door to Nehan’s room. “Can we talk?”

He expects Nehan to refuse, but he lets Seox in. He hadn’t expected to get that far and stands there for a good few seconds, trying to think of how to start the conversation.

Nehan lightly coughs and asks, “How was your last mission?”

“Fine.”

“…How long until your next mission?”

“Next week.” To keep the conversation from turning to more small talk, he picks a question and asks, “What did you want to talk about, a few months ago?”

Nehan’s expression becomes more mask-like and he responds, “Was it the captain and the others who told you?”

“Yes.”

“It can wait until another time.”

Impatiently, Seox says, “Just say it.”

Slowly, as though he’s measuring out the weight of each word, Nehan says, “The captain thinks I should let you know that I don’t hate you.”

Seox stares at him, not sure how to even begin processing that. “Why?”

“I think she thinks it will reassure you somehow.” With a wry smile, Nehan says, “Do you feel reassured?“

“Why would I be reassured by something that I know is untrue?” he asks harshly.

Expression turning inscrutable again, Nehan says, “You don’t need to believe me. If you want, we can pretend this conversation didn’t happen. But I wasn’t lying.”

“I saw your reaction when you saw my face. Obviously, I just remind you of the day I destroyed our clan and took everything from you.”

“That wasn’t what it meant.”

“Then what was it?” Seox demands.

Steadily, Nehan looks at him and says, “You look a lot like your father. That’s all it was.”

You killed everyone you’re going to lead our clan to a new era too dangerous to be around you’re the future of the Karm clan you monster

“Seox? Seox, wait,” he dimly hears Nehan saying, but then he’s already moving.

Back then, he’d had no limits, just the chaining of one movement the next until everything that moved was red and broken at his feet.

“Seox?” Djeeta’s voice says from nearby.

He blindly throws his arms out to push her away. “S-stay back! I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not going to hurt me,” she says with such confidence that he wants to bury himself before he can shatter it.

“I’ve done it before.”

“And I’m still alive. I’m coming closer.”

She takes his hand and he freezes.

“If you go berserk, I’ll stop you. And I don’t think that’s happening right now, but either way, I’m going to be here.”

Slowly, the world comes back. He’s crouched in his room in the Grandcypher. Djeeta is kneeling in front of him. The wood above creaks as another crew member walks down the hallway and the wind howls outside.

“How are you feeling?” Djeeta asks.

Embarrassed. Tired. “I’m okay,” he says.

“I’m going to get you water. Do you need anything else?”

“No.”

Lyria and Vyrn are waiting outside and they start a whispered conversation with Djeeta as they run toward the galley.

Seox takes a deep breath and straightens up, trying to shake off the pins and needles in his legs. He takes off his mask and wipes his face. Djeeta and the others will be back soon. He doesn’t know what he should say or do now.

Djeeta and the others come back with a glass of water and some snacks.

“You like some of these, right?” Lyria asks anxiously.

“I’m fine with anything,” he says. “Is Nehan…?”

“He’s okay,” Vyrn says.

“I’ll check in on him again later,” Djeeta says. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Seox says.

The three of them exchange looks.

“If you don’t want to talk to us, that’s fine,” Lyria says. “But we’re here for you if you need anything.”

“I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say.

“Why? It’s not your fault,” Vyrn says.

“I should be past letting my memories affect me like that. I’m sorry for burdening all of you.”

“It’s not a burden!” Lyria insists. “You’re our friend!”

How could he not be, though? He feels like he’s retreading the same ground. Like he’d cut off the diseased limb of a tree, only to find out that the whole thing is infected and needs to be uprooted.

“Exactly,” Djeeta says. “You are. Not the imaginary Seox who has all his problems sorted out and never needs help from anyone.”

That gives him pause. He thinks about Djeeta and he thinks about her father. About unthinking kindness and unwavering dedication. “I… I don’t deserve your friendship.”

“Good thing it’s not about whether you deserve it or not,” Djeeta says.

No one says anything for a moment.

Seox gets a small fraction of his thoughts in order. “Nehan said he doesn’t hate me.”

“That’s good, right?” Vyrn says.

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“I don’t think he’d ask Shao to give you medicine if he hated you,” Lyria says.

“That was him?”

She hesitates. “Maybe he didn’t want you to know. But he really does seem to care about you!”

“We overheard him asking about you,” Vyrn says. “He–“

“Vyrn,” Djeeta warns and shakes her head. She turns back to Seox. “There’s a mission tomorrow to replant a garden. I’m going to ask Nehan if he wants to come. Do you want in? It would just be the two of you.”

Seox considers the possibility that Nehan really doesn’t hate him and the opportunity presenting itself. “I’ll go.”

The next morning, they meet on location. The garden is meant for the whole community, but monster attacks had left it in disrepair.

Nehan, dressed in casual work clothes, surveys the damage and says, “I’ll start from the back and work my way forward.”

“I’ll start from the front then.”

For a while, neither of them say anything beyond what’s necessary for their work.

“This is unsalvageable. I’m tearing all of it up.”

“I need more fertilizer for this area. I’ll be right back.”

Nehan is the one who finally brings up a different topic, saying, “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you.”

Seox yanks a weed out of the ground because that’s easier to focus on. “I’m the one who asked.”

“I should have lied.”

It’s the casualness with which he says it that makes Seox look up. “That’s your solution?”

“I don’t think either of us can handle complete honesty at the moment.”

He might have a point, but still. “That doesn’t mean I want you to lie because you think I can’t handle it.”

“Then what do you want? Because I don’t want to keep having interactions that lead to us getting hurt.”

Seox isn’t sure what to say to that, so he doesn’t answer. They work silently for another while.

“Are these dead?” Seox asks about another patch of plants.

Nehan studies the brown, wilted leaves and tsks. “Frost damage. They should have been planted weeks later than they were.”

“Can they be saved?”

“I think so. But it might not be worth the effort.”

“Hm.” Seox waters it and leaves it alone for the village to decide.

He asks his next question because it feels relatively safe and there might still be unfinished business he has to take care of.

“You owe Shao a favor?”

“Right now, he owes me one,” Nehan says. “I’ll have him help me look for some herb on a mountain or something. We’ll see.”

They’re already having a conversation, so he moves on to the next question. “Were you asking for information about me?”

Nehan pauses, thinking, and Seox wonders if this will be a lie. “I don’t actually know anything about you. The others have insight I don’t.”

“Oh.” Seox supposes he knows even less about Nehan. It’s… not something he’d really considered.

“They speak very highly of you.”

“…Oh.” He’s glad that his mask hides the fact that he’s blushing.

They finish at the end of the day and begin to head back to the Grandcypher. This is his last chance, so Seox calls on his courage and asks, “When you said you don’t hate me, was that a lie?”

“No.”

Seox stops. “How? Surely you haven’t forgiven me for what I did.”

“Do I need to?” Nehan asks, turning.

That feels contradictory to Seox, but clearly it doesn’t to Nehan.

“It’ll still be a while before I can completely forgive you. But I don’t want to kill you and I don’t want to keep avoiding you.” Nehan’s expression changes to something more conflicted and he breaks eye contact. “But it’s not as though I’m in any position to pass judgment on you. So don’t… don’t take that to heart, I guess.”

Despite himself and despite what Nehan says, he does want that forgiveness. He hasn’t done enough to be worthy of it, though. “There’s more we should talk about.” Seox glances to the side and forces himself to get the next words out. “But I think you’re right. I wouldn’t be able to handle it right now. But I also don’t want you to lie.”

Nehan shrugs. “Then we won’t talk about it now.”

“And that’s it?”

“I’m not going anywhere. So even if you leave the crew, you’ll know how to find me.”

Seox thinks about where he wants things to be and considers the reality of where they are, and he exhales. “Okay.”

Djeeta, Vyrn, and Lyria see him off when he leaves for his next mission.

“Come back safely, okay?” Lyria says.

“We’ll get you a souvenir if we go somewhere interesting,” Djeeta says.

“It’ll be big and ugly so you can display it in your room,” Vyrn says, laughing.

“You don’t– You don’t have to,” Seox says.

“We’re going to,” Djeeta says. “Have a good mission.”

Seox sees movement at the corner of his vision and looks to find Nehan watching him. Nehan waves and Seox reciprocates it before turning back to Djeeta and the others.

“You all be safe too. See you.”

He does this more often than he likes, but, this time, as he walks down the boarding ramp, his fears’ whispers are quieter and he’s hopeful about what could happen when he returns.

A/N: Happy new year, everyone. i wanted to get this out yesterday but I didn’t. Let me know if you like it because i’m tired and can’t tell if it’s good. Here’s to playable Nehan 

#rambling #gbf #granblue fantasy #Seox #Nehan #seox gbf #nehan gbf

[lucarioisinthevoid]

m!a time. you gotta work with Candys employees and bots for a promotional stunt for 5 asks not including this one! sorry phone guy but a jobs a job.

“Wh-what?! Are you SERIOUS?!” Distressed Simon and everyone else snapped up. “E-excuse me, but- uh- WHAT? We’re stuck trying to deal with HENRY, th-that surely comes FIRST, r-right-“ Sorry boys! IT’S CANDY TIME! “NO! NO, NO, NO!” Simon howled. “I DON’T- I DON’T- STOP THIS. I’M NOT DOING IT.” S o r r y b o y s ! Henry meanwhile just snorted. “Oh, for sure. You will do it. Have fun, I will look after the restaurant. Do not fret, I-“ Oh, no, you’re coming too. “… what?” Yeah, everyone! Anyhow, send out the animatronics- and probably Ethan, seeing as he never leaves Evelyn on her own- to Candy’s. Not sure what “work with” means, but I’m supposing the restaurants get exchanged somewhat. Four animatronics and one guard in exchange! So, who is coming- Candy, Cindy, the penguin and Vinnie? You know what, asker, if you’re still around, please do clarify, I’ll retcon this ask in specific to fit it. Oh also, fair warning, I’m rather uninformed on the overall lore of FNaC, the only thing I remember well is the last game. Jeremy was the only one who seemed excited. “Candy’s? That is a pretty good place too!” Cheerful he said. “I think it would be great to have a cross promotion going on- we’re really similar after all!” Simon was rocking back and forth, while Mike awkwardly tried to pet his shoulders. The youngest one didn’t even seem to notice that anyone was distressed. “Heck! I was even there a time or two!” Marion petted him gently, not commenting however. Everyone was staring at the door. Well- At least this would distract everyone for long enough that the situation they were in seemed less scary. This felt familiar, this was chaos, this was busy work. Jerry rubbed his hands, nervously. Hopefully the new employee was nice. Finally, the door opened. Everyone instantly stood up to greet- A young woman stuck her head through the door, looking sheepish. “Hello? Uhm… is this the location?” “Is there any other around?” Henry instantly asked back, only drawing a giggle out of her. “Oh- yeah, I guess. Hello, I am Mary Schmidt!” Everyone turned to Mike who looked as irritated as them. The brown-haired girl- had no real similarity to him. At least in his opinion. Scoffing the aggressive guard spoke up. “Hey, fuckwit. Move it. If you stand in that door like that, a gust of wind might cut off your fucking head. Why are you standing in that door like that anyways?!” “H-hey, that wasn’t nice! And I’m standing here because-“ Like on cue, she was shoved forward, as two colorful animatronics jumped inside, a blue and a purple cat. “I’m Candy!” “And I’m Cindy!” The pre-recorded voices started playing, as both of them bounced and danced in the middle of the place. “And we’re the cat-companions! We’re here to ensure you have ton and ton of FUN!” Mary chuckled, slightly nervous. “Yeah, very nice, but you don’t have to-“ As they cat spotted the Phone Guy, both of them exchanged a look and moved squarely towards him. Cats just knew if you disliked them. “Hey boss!” Candy started. “I- I’m not-“ “Oh, yes you are!” Cindy continued, grinning maliciously. “You LOOK like a bossman!” Candy continued. “Take good care of us, bossman!” “Yes, be nice to us! We want to be good friends!” For once it wasn’t Mike who’s knuckles were so tensed up that they were white. “Y-yeah, uh-“ Simon forced out. “How about you do- me a favor and move back? That- that would help a LOT!” “But booooooooooooooooooooooooooss-“ Both of them said at the same time, before Mary finally managed to get between them. “Candy, Cindy, that’s enough! I’m sure you made enough of a good first impression- oh- penguin, stop!” She had turned just in time to see the penguin repeatedly driving over Henry’s foot, who didn’t react at all. Back and forth. It wasn’t heavy enough to do instant damage, but it was getting there. Before Mary could rush over there however, Henry had kneeled down and- Whispered something. Instantly the Penguin seized to move. Out of breath and concerned the other guard picked him up. “A-ah, thank you! How did you do that?! I never seen anyone-“ Kindly Henry smiled. “Why, I worked at Candy’s for a short while back in the old days. It was quite a lot of fun and I learned a few exploits.” “Exploits…?” “No worries about that. They are not supposed to have them anymore anyhow, so please do not tell, will you?” Still smiling he put a warm hand on Mary’s shoulder, who hesitantly nodded- Before abruptly turning around. “Wait- where’s Vinnie? He wanted to come along-“ “… Vinnie, you say?” Interested Henry looked around as well. “… how come he WANTED to come?” “Oh- I guess because he’s my friend… at least I think he is…? He’s sometimes a bit difficult-“ The blue Marionette had slowly floated in, its arms and legs dangling and sliding over the ground, like he was being pulled forward by an invisible string, by a bad puppet master, who completely neglected the rest of this being’s body. It was moving straight towards the actual Marionette, who was tensing up instantly. Separating from Jeremy, Marion moved forward, being as tall as he could be- And as Vinnie came to stand in front of him, it tilted its head to side the, far, far, its neck making an uncomfortable sound of metal scratching over metal, its head now being the wrong way around- Then it snapped up, matching the Marionette in height, its eyes suddenly starting to shine- It looked so… … ANGRY… But before either of them could do something, two people rushed up to drag their respective puppet away. Jerry whined. “Please- Marion… please, don’t be so upset-“ Mary was concerned too. “Vinnie, please! Why are you acting up like this? Please be nice to our new co-workers…” Simon was clutching his receiver. “Th-this is gonna go terrible, huh?” “Ah, fuck it. It’s going to be fine. We’ll survive.” Mike carefully put an arm around his partner’s shoulder, inspecting the whole group. Mary seemed competent enough… it would probably not end up in absolute disaster. Hopefully. Mike just prayed this would go over as smoothly as possible. (… I guess asks open for the Candy crew? I’m lowkey considering making them into my own AU versions, but more about that in the next post)

#the Group #henry miller #event time

[pidgetyy]

My application for The Underpass, a roleplay hosted by @fireflythenightlight (and which I found through my dear friend @validwofjobs). Legacy is a mostly-human, slightly-pheonix girl who loves planning ahead, making new friends, and her two identical pet giant geckos, Lychee the pet leachie and Guinep the familiar leachie-salamander. The rest about her can be found in these incoming walls of text under the cut!

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Backstory- 

Legacy grew up with an older and younger sister, the treasured “only son” of her parents, especially her father. Her name, before she realized she wasn’t a boy and chose a new name for herself, was Terrence. Her family lived in an apartment above a pet reptile store, run by her father. She got her familiar, Guinep, as well as her beloved pet, Lychee, when she was 8. She bonded with Guinep especially as her familiar, but the identical Lychee received plenty of love too, and in the first few years she had trouble telling apart the identical and closely bonded New Caledonian Giant Geckos by anything other than their temperament- Guinep was very calm, but Lychee tended to be a lot more snappish. Lychee followed Guinep’s lead in warming up to Legacy quickly, but remains a little aggressive towards strangers. 

Legacy was almost 15 when she finally admitted to herself that she didn’t think she was really a boy, after two years of suppressing and refusing to believe her own feelings. She began to grow her hair out, and stared longingly at the girl’s section of stores, but didn’t dare to expose her identity to her parents, whose reactions she couldn’t predict in the slightest. After about a year and a half of planning and psyching herself up, she finally had the guts to come out to her parents. The fallout didn’t come to the extremes she’d read many a horror story of online, of physical abuse or conversion therapy, but her parents still refused to acknowledge her preferred pronouns or name, and began to threaten homeschooling her, to keep “their only son” away from “the influence of those queer friends of yours.” She refused to be homeschooled, and her parents responded that, if she insisted on this, then they wouldn’t be paying college tuition for a daughter they didn’t have. Upset to say the least, she haphazardly packed the belongings she thought of first and could fit in her backpack, and left. It was the largest decision she had made in her life, and it was completely unplanned.

Her grandma on her mother’s side lived in a small house halfway across the city, and Legacy hoped her parents hadn’t shared the news with her about her identity, because she couldn’t think of anywhere else to go. It came as a surprise not that her grandmother knew, but she actually accepted Legacy, scoffing and asking her to “give me your real name, girl” when she introduced herself grudgingly as Terrence. For the next few months, she lived there happily, upset about some of the belongings she had forgotten to bring but definitely not willing to go back to her parents, who didn’t bother to come find her (after her grandmother had sternly told them over the phone not to come unless they were going to treat their daughter right). Her grandmother bought her real girl’s clothes, and even helped her dye her hair a bright shade of bubblegum pink she’d had her eyes on for months. She finished highschool a semester early, something she had already been planning to do since before coming out. Her grandmother, unfortunately, was starting to decline in her old age. She was in stage 4 of Alzheimer’s disease, beginning to get to stage 5, when she was finally deemed no longer able to care for herself and was placed in an elderly person’s home to be cared for. By that summer, Legacy was back on the streets, preferring them against going back to her parents.

She took a job as the sole member of the “Maintenance Crew” of a cafe/coffee shop in a slightly busier part of the city in order to pay for her own living necessities and her leachie’s. From age 17 to the start of rp, Legacy worked there, cleaning up spills, keeping tabs of what sanitary supplies needed restocking, and keeping the rest of the shop sanitary. She made use of the keys she had to the shop, coming in before dawn, and definitely before opening hours, to clean the shop and then to clean herself, and fix her hair to look presentable. On particularly cold nights, she would spend the night there, more to keep her beloved pets warm than for any other reason. Though her high body temperature was usually enough to keep herself and the leachies warm, she didn’t want to risk any of them getting sick on especially stormy or windy winter nights. Most nights, she would instead find a friend happy to lend a couch for the night, or a fellow homeless person she trusted enough to watch her back while she slept next to, for safety reasons.

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Personality-

Legacy is a generally cautious and consistent person. She sticks to her daily routine and her plans rather than acting spontaneously without thought. Unexpected changes and surprises are strongly disliked, because she hates being unprepared for something and sometimes has trouble dealing with surprise changes to her own plans because of that. Besides not being a big fan of practical jokes, she tries not to act outwardly uptight or prissy in social situations, even if her careful organization, tidiness and plans may make her seem like it. Most people wouldn’t pinpoint her as a homeless kid if they saw her, because she dedicates a considerable amount of time and money to making herself look very clean and neat. Half of the backpack she wears is filled with two other outfits, which she mixes-and-matches often. When she feels like a fashion change is in order, she’ll donate some clothes and buy new replacements for them at a local clothing exchange store. 

Her careful and well-put-together nature stems from a deep fear of making mistakes. Legacy hates the thought that she might make some mistake, do something wrong that could ruin her life as it is now, or change it beyond recognition (even if the change was for the better). So instead, she chooses inactivity. Though she could probably find a permanent place to live if she got a second job and saved carefully, she doesn’t, and instead spends most of her paycheck on unnecessary things like new clothes when she no longer needs it to buy food and water for her and her pets. She waited and planned for over a year to come out to her parents, and it still didn’t end well, so now she just tries to avoid taking any risks like that again (besides hiding her gender- she’s definitely done doing that. She presents as female and uses her real, chosen name. Most people don’t even realize she wasn’t born a girl). Legacy prefers to be a follower in social situations, rather than a leader. That way, she’s less likely to take the brunt of the consequences if a wrong decision is made. Safer. She prefers being safe, and right now her routine and life is safe and predictable, so she doesn’t see a need to change it or plan to end up anywhere else in her life.

Her caution about life decisions and other areas doesn’t quite extend to the social side of her life, however. Legacy’s a people person and a definite extrovert. She likes to surround herself with new friends at any chance she gets, and has a great memory for faces and personal details. Since middle school, she hasn’t forgotten a friend’s birthday or favorite color. Stranger’s opinions generally don’t have the power to change your whole life around, so with that low-risk assessment of friendship Legacy goes at making friends with a sort of wild abandon. Her charisma isn’t exactly impressive, but that doesn’t matter when she can just walk away and try again with someone else if the first person doesn’t seem to like her all that much. Even though she could listen to details about a person she barely knows for hours, and loves to learn new details about anyone, she’s dismissive of people’s opinions, especially if they’re about her. Few people have ever managed to become such an ingrained part of Legacy’s life as to earn the title of “Friend I actually care about and will make an effort not to lose.” Legacy shows up at many a party, flitting between groups for a while usually before finding someone she likes enough to hang out with for the rest of the night or couch-crash with, but refuses to get any farther than slightly tipsy even if the drinks are free. Being drunk is far too risky a thing for her to ever have attempted, even as tempting as it sometimes was. Party-going and friend-making are a few items on the short list of things she rarely, if ever, plans for.

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Extra Facts™-

-She is, by a small percentage, a Phoenix hybrid (1/8th, or 12.5 percent to be precise) by her great-grandmother on her mother’s mother’s side. She doesn’t have the identifying wings because of her lack of more phoenix-hybrid ancestors, but does have the noticeably higher body temperature and small flame-producing ability. She doesn’t have a ton of control over the flames, and they’re likely to appear, purposefully or not, when she’s feeling strong emotions.

-her favorite color is, by far, pink. Second is light green.

-Partially because of favorite-color influence, partially because of its sweet flavor, her favorite food is watermelon.

-She isn’t a vegetarian, but she generally doesn’t like meat very much. 

-She wishes she had the spare money to afford an instrument. Legacy used to play the flute in her middle school band, and loved it, but she left it behind in her parent’s house.

-Lawful neutral

-She’s a Libra (her birthday is September 28th)

#the underpass #underpass rp #underpass application #original rp #original story

[nctwd127]

Arranged Marriage.

Chapter Six.

Word Count: 3421

The truck was fully loaded now with Yuta and I’s things. I watched as it drove away, in destination to our new home. The thought alone made me sick and nauseous. How much I hated this. How much I hated our parents for forcing this on us. How much I hated Yuta, just for being himself.

Yuta and I walked over to his parents first, to say goodbye. His arm around my waist made me want to punch him in the neck, but I tried so hard to refrain from doing so. I knew the boys were too. Who was trying harder? Now that was up for debate.

His mother looked at me and then the fading bruise on my face which her own son had caused. “Oh my dear, you ought to be more careful.” She advised caressing my face. I felt Yuta’s fingers dig a little deeper into my waist, as if to warn me to not say anything. I just gave her a tight lip smile and nodded.

“Yuta now you take good care of her and make sure nothing happens to her, she’s a good girl.” Mr. Nakamoto instructed to his son with a genuine smile. His smile and eyes held hope for the future but I knew better than to think anything good could ever come from this.

“Of course dad. I’ll take care of her and protect her always.” He lied, I’m sure. I simply rolled my eyes and looked away, not really caring if his parents saw my eye roll or not. After the goodbye hugs given to us by his parents, we walked over to my parents.

“Yuta please do take care of her and her treat her well.” My mother practically pleaded of him as if I was willingly leaving to start a life with him. “Of course, like I told my parents. I’ll take care of her and protect her always.” Yuta answered as I rolled my eyes again at how easily he could lie to both our parents.

I really had nothing but rage and hatred running through my veins right now.

How everyone is acting like this isn’t being forced on us, is truly beyond me. Like this isn’t a fucking obligation. Like either of us had some kind of fucking say in this! How could they sit here and act like this was truly based off love?

My parents looked as if they were about to say something else so I cut them off.

“I’m leaving now.”

I removed Yuta’s hand from my waist and walked over to my boys who were waiting with open arms for me. “Please let’s go. I really don’t know how much more I can be here before I combust.” They nodded and we walked over to my car.

Ten took the keys from me and got into the driver’s seat, knowing I wasn’t capable of driving straight right now. Hendery and I got into the back seat, I laid my head on his lap and curled myself into a ball. Ten put in the direction into the GPS and started the travel. The drive was quiet and comfortable, trying my best not to doze off as Hendery ran his fingers through my hair, soothing any emotions that would come up to strongly.

“We’re here.” Ten announced as he parked in front of the house. The moving truck was parked in the drive way filled with out things still. We sat in the car and waited till they finished.

Soon enough Yuta and his crew showed up, taking care of whatever the movers needed and helped them as well but since I truly couldn’t be bothered, I laid back down onto Hendery. Everything from earlier was running through my mind and I couldn’t help but ask.

“Was she pretty? Prettier than me?”

My cat like friend turned around in the seat aggressively looking at me as if I had six heads. “Are you crazy? Please we all know, Doyoung could never do better than you. To even think something like that should be a crime.”

Ten has always been so extra and dramatic, his obvious attempt to try to make me feel better didn’t go unnoticed as I gave him a smile and a small chuckle. “You’re right.”

The cheerful moment was gone when someone knocked on the back door window, I looked over to see Sicheng. “What?” I asked annoyed, rolling down the window a little so we could hear each other.

“The movers are done, Yuta told me to tell you that you could go in now.” He sassed, as if it would have killed him to not be a piece of shit.

I groaned and got up, making sure to hit him with the door when I opened it, not too hard but enough for it to make him glare at me. Fully looking at the house now, it was small and beautiful. The outside gave a very warm and cozy vibe to it and I hated it, knowing that the inside would never be like that.

Walking in, the stairs were to the left in front of the door. On the right was an immaculate living room, already furnished in ivory colored couches. A medium height wooden coffee table was placed in the center facing the fire place that will probably never be used because it never was at my house. And on top of course the big flat screen television.

Past the stairs, to the left was the kitchen which I fell in love with. A marble island in the middle, big windows that showed the neighbor’s house, next to the fridge was the door that lead to the backyard, and the counters matched the island, it was truly beautiful. Connected to the kitchen was the dining room, a table for six was placed right in the middle, like anyone would use this.

A bathroom, without a shower, was at the end of the hallway to right. Across from that was an office space but seemed more like a library. It already had some books on the shelves. Thankfully it seemed as my parents picked the books because some of my favorites were there.

Hopefully Yuta stopped reading as much as he did back in day so that I could be the only one to use it.  

Going up the stairs, right away you were brought to two doors, one on either side. One was the master bedroom and the other was a guest room. Down the hall was another bedroom and a full size bathroom across it. Feeling thankful they decided to get us a house with more than one bedroom.

The master bedroom was big and spacious, much like the others it had a walk in closet. But this one had the en suite, so I was very persistent on wanting to get it.

“Wow, your guys parents really went all out for you guys, shit.” Ten marveled as he took in the sight of the master bedroom. A small chuckle left me at his comment. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Are you taking this room or are we sharing?” Yuta smirked as he leaned on the door frame, starling me as I wasn’t aware that he had been there.

“I mean this with all my heart Yuta, you can fuck off and leave me alone. But yes, I am taking this room.” I declared watching his face turn hard at my words. He glared for a split second then turned on his heels to go into the room across from mine.

“He really irks every nerve in my body. I just don’t understand how.” Ten commented watching the empty doorway. His gaze coming back to Hendery and me.  

“Same here, always ready to smack the shit out of him to be honest. But anyways, let’s go get the boxes.” Hendery instructed making way to the door. Ten and I looked at each other and laughed before following him out.

We occasionally bumped into the other three boys that were also here, none of them speaking to me of course. They shared some words with Hendery and Ten, in a friendly nature despite the situation that we were all in. But I could tell that Hendery and Ten felt a little weary of them right now considering they knew about all of this and toyed with them.

Not caring for their conversation, I continued moving my boxes. I carried the lightest ones seeing as I didn’t have much energy left after my panic attack.

Upon entering my bedroom, I noticed Yuta sitting on the bed. “Can I help you? Why are you in my room?” I questioned annoyed at the fact that he was in here already invading the little space I had. I placed the box down and looked at him waiting for an answer.

“We need to have a conversation after our guest leave.” He firmly told me. Before I could protest, he spoke again. “It’s not up for debate.”

I sighed and slumped my shoulders, “Okay.”

Finally all the boxes were sorted in my room, now all I needed to do was unpack but I would save that for tomorrow, for I had no more energy for anything at all whatsoever. And definitely not for a conversation with Yuta.

After spending the whole day with me and helping me move, I was finally walking the boys to the door. Both of them engulfing me in a huge hug, letting me know that everything will work itself out and that if I needed anything, anything at all to call them and they will come over at the speed of light. My heart was really beyond grateful for them, no words could ever explain it really.

Once the door closed, the air felt much darker and thicker. I turned to face the living room where the other four boys sat, just staring at me. I rolled my eyes and went to the kitchen. I hated this. Being in the house with Yuta was more than enough, I don’t understand why the other three insisted on being here.

It wasn’t long after I entered the kitchen that I heard the front door open and close. Hopefully for me, all four of them left. Leaning forward on the counter, I stared out the window taking in the night, watching as the wind blew through the trees. The old leafs cascading onto the floor below.

I’m sure on the nights I wouldn’t be able to sleep I would be out in the backyard. The way I did before when sleep was something unknown to me because of the nightmares.

The only bright side to this nightmare so far was that I had found places to hide away from my reality. The library and the backyard.    

“(Y/N).”

Yuta’s voice rumbled in the quiet that surrounded me, causing me to jump. I turned and saw him standing right behind me, how long had he been standing there? I’m not sure. I avoided his eyes, keeping my eyes trained on his chest and hummed in response.

He scoffed at the avoidance of eye contact, taking my chin into his hand and lifting my face to meet his eyes. My breath hitched as our eyes met. He looked at me hard for a moment before he turned my face to the left so he could see the barely there bruise he marked onto my skin.

“Are you done acting like a bitch?” Yuta snapped at me dropping his hand from my face. Now it was my turn to scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, are you done being a bitch?” He repeated.

“Towards you, I will never be Yuta. I hate you. You ruined my life. Because you didn’t fight this, I was ripped away from the only two homes I had ever known my whole life! Because of you I have to live in this stupid house with you. Because of you, I had to give up the person I wanted to marry to fucking marry you! So to answer your fucking question, no I’m not done being a bitch and I never will be!” I shouted, the tears making their way back to my eyes.

He leaned into me and caged me in between him and the counter. I leaned away from his face, not wanting to make that kind of contact with him again, scared that it could trigger more painful flash backs for me.

Yuta didn’t say anything for a moment, I could tell he was trying to control the anger that was burning through him. He didn’t know how I did it every time, managing to get under his skin the way I did. His once honey brown eyes turned black when he focused on me again.

“I’m going to tell you this once. Learn to respect me, when we’re alone and especially in front of other people. That little commentary you pulled with your friends earlier, is the first and last time you address me like that.” He started, the harshness in his tone made goosebumps rise on my skin and a chill go down my spine. “That ring better be off your finger after tonight. And I forbid you from seeing that bunny boy again. You are not to step foot into his house again. Do you understand me?”

His eyes remained unfazed as he stared into mine, which have blurred him out as the tears were threatening to fall.

I was at a loss for words, I had nothing. I really had nothing. Once he realized that I wasn’t going to speak, he took the chance to add one more thing.

“Don’t test my patience (Y/N). I am capable of so much more than you think.”

Without warning, one hand wrapped around my waist pulling me into his body and the other behind my neck, making our lips crash against each other. The moment my eyes closed, the warmth of my tears trailed down my cheeks. He held me flush against his body as he forced our lips together.

In my moment of shock, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth, exploring the inside like it was a candy he’s never had before. I tried to push him away but he wouldn’t let me, his strength so much more evident than mine.

Yuta’s hands moved from the place they rested to hold my face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that fell as he continued the attack on my lips. My body weak as the nostalgia started to wash over me. It has been years since I have felt him this close to me.

It’s been so long since I have felt his lips move against mine the way they are right now. It was far too much for my body to handle but I had no strength to push him away. More tears broke free remembering the taste of his lips.

It’s been eight years and his taste was still the same.

The need for air finally got to him forcing him to pull away from my lips. His eyes were almost back to their honey color with a tint of darkness still lingering in them. He caressed my face once more before dropping his hands to his side.    

“Starting Monday, we are going public with our relationship.” Yuta looked down at my lips and then walked out of the kitchen.  

~Yuta felt that little tickle in his brain again. Confusing it for thinking that he could start to feel something for her, the person he once called his best friend, the person who left him hanging without reason. He ignored it and pushed it away, not thinking about what he did that caused that tickle, twice. ~  

Sitting on my bed, door locked and music blasting to ignore the outside world beyond these four walls, I stared at the floor. It’s Sunday afternoon and I haven’t slept at all since yesterday morning. I don’t know how anyone could after everything I had to endure in just one week.

With much sorrow, I did as Yuta asked, or more like threatened me to do and took the ring off. He never said I couldn’t wear it around my neck though, so that’s what I did. I took a pendant off one of my necklaces and placed the ring on it. At least this way, it’s still with me.

Unpacking my boxes, I stumbled onto one I had kept in the back of my closet for so many years, it was marked ‘don’t open.’ Curious as to what I had hidden away in there, I opened it, regretting it right away.

It was filled with memories that I had shared with Yuta. From messy post it notes, to embarrassing love letters, small trinkets and a sweater. There was one more thing in the box that opened the door of all memories.

A condom wrapper. I turned it over and it had a small post it note tapped to it, three words in a faded black ink. ‘Our first time.’

Yuta and I were sitting in my living room, watching a movie together like we did mostly every day after school, either at his house or mine. My head laid on his lap as his fingers ran through my hair mindlessly.

“You’re still a virgin right?” Yuta shamelessly and suddenly asked. “Yuta, you can’t ask questions like that, have you no shame?” I scolded feigning innocence with a giggle following right after.

“Oh please, save me the pure act (Y/N), we both know you’re the farthest thing from that. Now answer my question.” He insisted. “Yes I am. Why, are you?” I asked curious to know, sitting up to face him.

He looked at me and nodded, his ears burning a bright pink. I let out a loud laugh. “Oh the great Yuta, that carries himself like a god, is still a virgin!” I teased.

He looked over at me amused at how I joked of the situation, the adoration he had towards me so evident in his eyes, making me laugh louder with a blush creeping up to my cheeks.

We both knew there were unspoken feelings between us. But we weren’t sure if we wanted to take that step further and risk the friendship we had now.

Yuta’s smile turned into a smirk and a whole new kind of spark shined in his eyes. One I had never seen before. I stopped laughing as I noticed. “What?”

“Have sex with me. Let’s lose it to each other.”

Such a vivid memory hit me as I held the wrapper in my hand. Yuta in those days, he was something else. There was never a day he couldn’t make better, a moment he couldn’t make brighter, a smile he couldn’t make wider.

How ironic that the Yuta now, did the opposite of everything he used to do for me back then.      

Knock! Knock!

Startled, I threw everything back in the box and hid it away deep into the back of my closet, never wanting anyone else to find it, barely wanting to remember that it was there myself.

Walking to the door and unlocking it, I took a deep breath before opening it. “Why is your door locked?” Yuta questioned me right away. “Are you my dad? Why do you care?” I remarked.

“What do you need Yuta?” I asked walking away from the door and continuing to move around my boxes, not wanting to have to look at him as the details of our first time ran through my head the moment I saw him.

He stepped into my room and leaned against my desk, just staring at me. I could feel his eyes on my body as I moved around. Feeling overly exposed in my skimpy pajamas. I cleared my throat and he snapped out of whatever thoughts were running wild in his mind.

“I just came to inform you that, the company is hosting a party this weekend to celebrate the success it’s been having lately.”

“Great, okay. I’m assuming that we will be going together?” I sighed, in no mood whatsoever to celebrate anything, especially not the success of a company that ruined my life.

“Of course princess. I’m your one and only now.” He mocked satisfied as he looked at my hand, no longer seeing the ring that hid away inside my shirt, away from his eyes.  

Masterlist

#nct #nct 127 #nct yuta #nct doyoung #nct hendery #nct lucas #nct jaehyun #nct taeyong #nct winwin #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct stories #nct angst #nct fluff #nakamoto yuta #kim doyoung #wong kunhang #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #wong yukhei #jung yoonoh #lee taeyong #dong sicheng #seo youngho #nct arranged marriage #nct ten #nct johnny #yuta smut #doyoung smut #lucas smut #jaehyun smut

[lowkeyaesthvtic]

Evil Karma - Chapter 1

Word Count: 2,753

Pairings: none yet

Summary: A new VK arrives on the isle with no clue of what has happened to her ‘almost family

Rating: whole story will be a T rating (with some chapters being M) but this chapter is relatively PG

Warnings: mentions of (not graphic) death, just overall anger and villainy

I awoke in a haze with a sharp pain in my back and shoulders. The last thing I remembered was using one of my father’s old trinkets to make a portal. The special thing with portals is that they could take you anywhere as long as you focused on where you wanted to go. What sucked about that was I had never been anywhere else before...therefore I had no place to focus on. This must have been where the portal placed me. I forced myself to stand and took a look around me. One thing I could immediately tell was that I was on some sort of island from the familiar scent of salty seawater hitting me. As I continued to look around, however, I knew this island was nowhere near familiar. Everything felt so incredibly overcrowded. Trash, dirt, and flies invaded the space around me. It was only a few more seconds before I noticed people bumping into me without a second thought. Some of them girls, some of them boys, some of them tall and mischievous, others were small and unknowing of their actions. One thing they all had in common? They all tried to steal something from me.

Pickpocketing was something I had learned from my father at quite a young age. He told me that the boys where we lived were ‘incredibly lost souls’ and ‘may not know how to react to someone who looked like me.’ His answer to that problem was to teach me as much as he could. So that’s what he did. I learned all the ways of my home’s magic, figured out how to harness and use it as a sort of...persuasion, and became the best on the island with a bow and arrow. It was because of all I had learned that anyone who tried to steal from me had failed. Until one person in particular had brought a bit of a challenge.

As soon as I felt him bump against my hip, I dodged any further contact and went for my dagger, as per usual. However, when I brandished my dagger, I was met with something I never thought I’d see: a rusted hook made of silver. No way. No way this could be true. “Hook…” I mumbled, standing down from my fighting stance and running through the crowded alley.

“Wait, you know me? But I don’t know you! Come back, you runt!” I hear a confused, aggressive yell in response and before I knew it, he was chasing me. As I hurried past the people in the alley, I ran past names that looked all too familiar. Lady Tremaine...Dr Facilier...Mother Gothel...it was at this point that I finally knew where I was. I knew my father and I had lost. My magic wouldn’t work here, my boys were likely too far gone, and I’d have to start all over. It wasn’t until I saw the hooked man’s figure in front of me that I realized I had stopped dead in my tracks. “How do you know me? One of the street rats tell you about me?” His accent was thick, incredibly hard to understand, yet it spoke to him. Something about his voice added to his madness, his unpredictability.

“I don’t know you...well, I don’t know your face, at least. Our parents knew each other. It was kind of a love-hate relationship.” I responded, taking in his face. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that he looked intriguing. His hair was a dark black and looked extremely messy, as if the chaotic life of a pirate had tossed it around. Despite attempting to darken his eyes with eyeliner, his eyes’ color matched the blue of the ocean from my home island. His face was incredibly structured and, like his hook, his jaw was sharp enough to cut. “My father was Peter Pan.” At the name, his eyes lit up.

“So you’re the famous Sofia Pan? Goodness, my father told stories about yours almost every night!” He stepped away from me, almost completely throwing away his intimidating aura and letting a playful smile grow onto his face. “I thought your father placed that one spell on Auradon to make them think he was a hero...what are you doing here?”

“Well, you’re right about that...I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember much. All I know is I wouldn’t be here if Neverland was still intact. I guess you could say I’m on my own now…” Things were silent for a few seconds before he looked to me and gestured to what looked to be some kind of restaurant.

“Maybe not… come with me, Sofia Pan. Let me show you how to take the Isle of the Lost and hook it like it’s nothing!”

“Oh, you can just call me Sofi. If you want.”

“Harry Hook. It’s nice to put a face to your name, Sofi.” And with that, he led me further down the alley into what I could assume was some kind of plaza. We were much closer to the ocean and a lot farther away from the pickpocketing ‘street rats.’ I had started to notice during our walk that most people either respected and followed Harry Hook or were scared of him to the point where they’d do anything he asked whether they wanted to or not. Eventually, we came upon Ursula’s Fish and Chips Shoppe. “Uma is going to absolutely love you! We’ve got girls on the ship, yeah, but if you’re anything like your father...well we’ll just see what happens.” A smirk began to return to the young pirate’s face. Something in my gut began to tell me that this would be a bit more intense than I thought. Was this a good idea?

“The chip shoppe looked just as run down as the rest of the Isle, the only difference being an overall theme of the sea and a tiny television tucked by a long table at the front of the restaurant. Standing by said television was a sight I nearly felt honored to behold. Her skin was smooth and matched the wood of the table she stood behind. Her hair was tightly braided, combining white, black, and a shade of blue that matched the sea close to what I used to call home. She had a bitter glint in her eye but I could tell she wasn’t the type to wallow in her problems. “Harry! It’s about time you came back...where’s the money?” She spoke with certainty, domination, like she knew that she was in charge. In all honesty, the assertiveness in her voice was almost as intriguing as Harry’s accent.

“Right here, my Captain. I have something else for you..a bit of an unexpected guest.” He abruptly pushed me towards her and our eyes met for the first time. After a few seconds, Uma snapped out of a momentary daze and looked to Harry.

“Who is this? Are you trying to set Gil up again? I mean, come on Harry...I don’t think she’d be his type.” She began to eye me up and down, as if she were checking me for anything that could threaten her or her crew.

“No...this isn’t for Gil. Uma, I would like you to meet the wickedly infamous Sofia Pan.” Her eyes widened at the name, was I really that well known on the Isle? “Well...she said that Sofi was fine enough, but I figured you’d want to know her rotten legacy.” With emphasis on the word rotten, I was reminded of where I had come from.

When my father first created Neverland, he had relatively wholesome intentions. He wanted to take boys who felt unloved and unwanted to a place where they could do what they wanted without fear of what others would think. But as he continued to live on the island, Neverland’s magic grew stronger and infected him with madness and the undying desire for power and control. He began forcing his Lost Boys to live on the island, using magic if he had to. He once made a magic Pan Flute that he would take with him across the kingdom and use its song to lure all of the young boys away from their parents and off to Neverland.

By the time I was born, my father was completely corrupted by the magic of the island. His darkness was all I knew. However, it did have its benefits. He taught me to never take no for an answer. He taught me to look in the eyes of authority and say ‘you can’t control me.’ Little did he know that would be his demise…

“So your father had the power to fool an entire kingdom into thinking he was the good guy? I honestly don’t know whether I should be jealous that I wasn’t in your shoes or intrigued by what that could mean for you.” She kept her arms crossed and firm, but I could tell that I wasn’t her victim. Not today, at least.

“If you must know…” I stepped closer to her, leaving Harry in a state of surprise. I guess he must have thought that I’d be hesitant. The poor naive boy, he has no idea just how easily I can charm someone. “It means I’m an expert archer, I know how to reel boys into shape, and I can be..incredibly persuasive.”

“Incredibly persuasive? What does that have to do anything? Your Neverland magic isn’t going to work here.” Harry questioned, trying to act as a barrier between me and his Captain.

“It means she can get anyone to do anything...and we need that here.” Uma grabbed Harry by his hook and gently pushed him to the side. The way the two looked at each other was almost affectionate. It wasn’t my business to question what they had with each other, and something told me that I would soon find out as long as I kept my mouth shut.

Our conversation was quickly interrupted by the sound of the television being switched on. “Hey Uma! Harry! The VKs are on the Auradon News again!” Uma rolled her eyes as she looked towards the television. What I heard next sent shivers down my spine.

“Alright Meeko, this is Nakoma here with the latest update on Auradon’s newest heartthrobs. Our four VKs, Carlos, Jay, Evie and Mal informed us last week of the wicked corruption behind Peter Pan, a hero that we all thought we knew and loved. It turns out, when villains were being sent to the Isle of the Lost, Peter Pan used his Neverland Magic to enchant the entire kingdom of Auradon so he wouldn’t be locked with the rest of the villains. It’s a good thing evil magic doesn’t work on the Isle, because if it weren’t for these core four, we never would have known about it! I’m here with Mal, daughter of Maleficent and current partner of our King Ben, who has just returned from seizing this corrupt island. So Mal, can you describe the events that took place during this battle?” The news anchor gives her microphone to a skinny girl with purple hair, green eyes, and an obviously fake smile.

“Well, the first thing we did was search for Peter Pan himself. He had quite the army built up, it was probably one of the most difficult battles the VKs and I have faced. However, I can happily say that Neverland is completely empty, never to be inhabited again.”

“So did you ever find Peter Pan? And what of the Lost Boys living on the island? Are they all on the Isle now?”

“We couldn’t find Peter Pan anywhere, we can only assume that he fled away. He’s never been one for bravery, after all.” The reporter laughed with Mal before continuing her tangent. “As for the Lost Boys, I can say that they were...properly taken care of.” I could feel the fire rising in my eyes. I remember now, I remember it all.

I could feel Harry and Uma shift their eyes towards me, their crew following suit like a pack of sheep. They killed my Lost Boys...she killed my Lost Boys. Out of pure rage and impulse, I grabbed pieces of the fish guts from some pirate’s tray and chucked it at the television. “You murderous wench! You heartless, cold coward! I swear to all that is wicked if I ever see you I’ll -” Next thing I knew, I felt two pairs of arms around me pulling me down from the table I was standing on. There was Harry, looking at me with almost a sense of concern, and a blonde pirate looking at me like a confused puppy. Uma quickly switched off the television and put her hand on the blonde’s shoulders.

“Gil...I just realized that our new sail hasn’t been set up yet. How about you take the rest of the crew and get that taken care of, huh?” He jumped at the idea and led the rest of the pirates out of the restaurant, leaving me, Uma, and Harry all alone. Did I know what she had planned for me? No. Did I care? Not really. This ‘Mal’ and her friends had slaughtered the only family I had, and I wanted revenge. “Well, I guess now we have a common enemy.” Uma said to Harry, slowly shifting her direction to me.

I tsked and looked to her. “What, she killed your family too? Who does this purple haired traitor think she is? And since when were VKs allowed in Auradon?” Harry rolled his eyes and threw some scrap fish at the screen.

“Since three months ago. King Ben chose four VKs to come live on Auradon for some kind of ‘second chance.’ He wanted to start with the baddest of the bad. Son of Jafar, son of Cruella De Vil, daughter of the Evil Queen...and apparently, the daughter of Maleficent was the most rotten of them all. He whisked those posers off to a better life and left the rest of us in the dirt.” Uma replied, scowling at a poster of the ‘core four’ that had since been vandalized with classic pirate graffiti reading ‘we ride with the tide.’

“What I wouldn’t give to wipe the smiles off their faces…” Harry drifted off, wiping a piece of fish from the television and slipping it into his mouth with his finger.

It was then that an idea had popped into my head. Would it be hard to pull off? Of course it would be...but the victory would be oh so worth it. I sit on the long table behind me and look Uma straight in the eye. “What if we did more than that?”

The two pirates piqued their eyebrows in interest. Clearly I was winning them over. I’m not saying I’m completely surprised but given Uma’s sense of domination I figured it’d be much harder to get her to listen. I guess you learn something every day. “More than wiping smiles off their faces? Explain…”

“Mal and her little group of friends left you and your crew to rot, when you clearly deserve to be on Auradon more than she does. She also had the gall to go after my home and take everything I once held close to me. As you said, we have a common enemy.”

“Yeah...I still don’t know what you’re entailing here.” Harry mumbled, now leaning on his Captain’s shoulder.

“What if she got a taste of her own medicine? She left you out to dry and she tore apart my family...so we take her little group and tear them limb from limb until she feels all alone, just as she deserves. My village pillaging friends...what I’m proposing is an act of karma so sinister that Princess Purple here will wish she was never born.” Harry and Uma’s eyes begin to light up. Harry’s mad smirk returns and Uma mischievously chuckles before going to sit on the table next to me.

“You know Sofi, our crew needs someone like you…”

“Funny you say that, Uma. I was thinking the exact same thing.”

#descendants fic #harry x oc x uma #harry x reader x uma #harry hook x reader #tumblr #uma x reader #uma daughter of ursula #harry hook x uma #descendants x oc #descendants fanfiction #descendants

[vagrantblvrd]

Touch of Gray (1/1)

Summary: Its probably not a good sign that Michael’s gotten used to being approached by people in parking garages.

Notes: Prompt fill for Anon who asked for Crinkle Dot with Michael getting kidnapped (again) based on a line from Small Hours of the Night.: 

Today it was Trevor, but they all know there will be a day when Michael’s on his own when someone decides they want to hurt the big bad Vagabond where it’ll do the most damage.

(Read on AO3)

Its probably not a good sign that Michael’s gotten used to being approached by people in parking garages.

Just.

An in general sort of thing, because he lives in Los Santos and all kinds of fuckery goes on in places like that. Especially this late at night, and okay, okay, okay, maybe Ryan’s right about Michael being a dumbass.

Because he hears the guy walking up to him, hears him stop a few feet away. Hard-soled shoes clip-clopping on the hard cement like that, of course he does.

But because he’s Michael and coming off working a double shift, he doesn’t pay all that much attention to it. (He does, just not the right kind. Preoccupied with this he needs to do because he has a date later, so you know.)

Hears the guy clear his throat, something aggressive to it that pings Michael's radar too late, but it’s really the part that follows after that makes him realize he should have been more alert.

The whole, “Hey, pal,” and “You Michael Jones?” and “Rudy sends his regards,” which.

First of all, Michael has no goddamn clue who the hell Rudy is, so there’s that.

Second of all, talk about being dramatic as hell, and also a great way to preface sucker punching someone when they turn around to ask you what the fuck you want.

No matter how many times Ryan or the others drag him down to the gym to teach him how to defend himself, he won’t be fast enough to react when someone blindsides him like that. A for effort on their parts and all that shit, but Michael's only human and there’s that whole dumbass thing too, so.

Yeah.

Michael sees a meaty fist coming straight at him before pain explodes in his face and he drops like a ragdoll.

========

He wakes up who knows how many hours later tied up like a damsel in distress in those movies his mom denies she watches. All melodrama and other movie clichés as far as the eye could see.

Big Vinewood hero, dashing and brave and his spunky sidekick. Gorgeous love interest who was all fired up with determination to stand toe-to-toe with every asshole she came across until it came time for the villain to get one over on the hero, and then everything fell apart.

“Guilty pleasures,”she’d tell him, embarrassed as hell and only half serious with her threats. “If I find out you’re telling people I watch them you’re grounded, you little shit.”

Mich looks around, tries to figure out where he’s been taken this time.

“Look at me now, ma,” he mutters, “just like your movies.”

He’s in a bland little room that’s gone neglected for who knows how long. Peeling paint and the smell of mildew and wood rot. Water stains in the ceiling and garbage and whatever else piled in the corners. Old furniture like you’d find in a typical office building that’s a few years out of date and seen some hard times.

Nothing new there, nothing to give away a particular area in Los Santos.

The train whistle he hears in the distance is a little more helpful, but doesn’t help him pin the place down.

So, yeah.

Not great.

His head hurts like hell and he can feel dried blood flaking away under his node, down his lips and chin. His nose doesn’t feel broken, which is always nice.

Aside from a few aches and pains nothing else does either.

Whoever sucker punched him in the garage isn’t around to ask questions, and there’s no sign of anyone else.

Either they’re went to the trouble of grabbing him just to let him rot here where no one’s supposed to find him, or they’re letting him stew.

“No one has any goddamned imagination with this shit,” Michael says, annoyance rising because fucking seriously.

He’s been grabbed a few times before this. Assholes who think he’ll roll over for them, hand them everything they want in exchange for letting him go like that’s what they have planned.

Like he’s just that stupid.

Sure, he’s not thrilled about the part that comes after being grabbed, the whole tough guy act these kind of assholes put on.

Smile at him like it’s just business kid, you know how it is, right? And then the ugly shit starts, a punch here, another one there. Things to soften him up and get him talking, babbling for them to stop, he’ll talk, he’ll talk, only Michael doesn’t play along.

Doesn’t follow the script like they expect him to.

So they bring out their shiny little knives and flashy guns. Get in his face and ask him if he’s sure he wants to keep the Fake AH Crew’s secrets. Doesn’t he know he’s just another tool to them? Convenient little asset and all that, but c’mon kid, you’re smarter than that, aren’t you?

All that fancy education to get where you are in life, and you’re gonna throw it away on scumbags like them?

He’s heard variations on that since the wrong people found out about him from an ally of the Fakes with loose lips and no goddamn common sense to speak of. Idiot kid who should have known better, but you know. Idiot kid.

Last Michael heard, he’s off somewhere the Roosters can keep an eye on him. Far away from Ryan and the others who hold grudges like nobody’s business. (Got this sideways look from Geoff and Burnie who was visiting at the time. Both of them probably thinking Michael’s a bigger idiot than expected, but whatever. The crew’s always telling him they owe him, and it was a small enough favor.)

Got a broken nose out of it before Michael managed to get everyone calmed down. Drew attention to the fact he was kind of bleeding a little, and oh, hey, anyone want to return the favor of stitching him back together for fuck’s sake, or did he have to do it himself?

(He kind of did, though. Ryan all wound up and freaked out as Michael told him what to do like the big doof hadn’t been  - badly – stitching himself back together for years.)

Michael sighs because he hates this part. Boring as fuck and wasting his time.

“Goddammit,” Michael sighs, because Ryan’s going to be a goddamn pain about this.

(Michael’s got a thing about being punctual, and the fact he’s late for their date will be a source of grief for him.)

========

It takes a couple of hours before this Rudy asshole shows his face.

Beanpole of a guy with beady little eyes and something about him that makes Michael think about snakes. (Might be the way he puts emphasis on his sibilants, the way Jeremy does sometimes when he’s fucking around in a death match back at the penthouse.)

Ridiculously into his bad guy cliches from the way he circles around Michael to clasping his hands behind his back once he’s standing in front of Michael.

Pair of enforcers flanking the door because assholes like him can’t not with the intimidation tactics.

“So,” he says – hisses? - giving Michael a once-over. “You’re this Michael Jones I’ve heard so much about.”

Michael doesn’t know what the fuck is going on here, but sure.

Why not.

“I mean,” Michael says, because he’s an idiot and hanging around the Fakes has just brought that out in him even more. “It’s a pretty common name when you think about it.”

Might as well cal himself John Smith, the amount of people who go around with the same name.

Rudy’s one of those people who doesn’t seem to find that amusing, and Michael knows it’s going to be a long night because he goes straight into douchebag mode.

Raises his hand like an asshole and snaps his fingers, eyes on Michael the whole time as one of the bruisers leaves his station by the door and steps forward. (Cracks his knuckles like you see in the movies, all intimidation factor and unbelievably assholish.)

Rudy smiles, mean edge to it.

“I get it now,” he says, turning to leave. “You’re just like them.”

Michael rolls his eyes because no, he’s really not.

Well.

He didn’t used to be anyway. Had common sense they didn’t, but the fuckers have been chipping away at that until he ends up in situations like this and making all the wrong choices.

He looks to the bruiser who’s looking at Michael with his head cocked like he can see all his weak points.

“Can we just get this over with?” Michael asks. “Places to be and all that.”

The bruiser smirks like a man who loves his job and yeah, yeah.

Long goddamned night ahead of him.

========

When the bruiser’s done with their first session, Michael’s nose is broken and he’s has a loose tooth. Maybe more than one, it’s hard to keep track.

He hurts like fuck and there’s this leaky pipe at the back of the room that’s driving him nuts.

Rudy’s staring him down, this bland little smile on his face.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, you know,” he says. Just a businessman looking out for his own interests, nothing personal to any of this. “Tell me what I want to know, and we’ll send you on your way.”

Michael stares at him because it’s the usual load of horseshit guys like him peddle. Empty promises with threats of violence behind them and honestly?

Michael’s tired of it.

“Alright,” he says, licks blood off his lips, cracks his neck because he has to look up at the asshole ad his bruisers and it’s putting a crick in his neck. “You want me to talk? I’ll talk.”

He has a lot of grievances against the Fake AH Crew with all the shit they put him through on a regular basis. Just one thing after another with those assholes.

Michael starts out with something that’s been bugging him for a long goddamn time.

“Who the fuck decides to call themselves Rimmy Tim? Like fucking really. Did the asshole just have a bunch of kids write-in suggestions he picked out of a hat or something?”

Speaking of.

“What the fuck is up with the cowboy hat?”

The color scheme, okay, yeah. Michael gets that because Jeremy’s a disaster, so why not pick the worst color combination he could, but the cowboy hat?

Michael bites back a laugh at the way Rudy’s expression goes from smug satisfaction to something approaching apoplectic rage. Tiny bit of disbelief, like most people in Michael’s situation aren’t this stupid.

Asshole uncoils, sneer on his face like this isn’t something he usually does himself but he’ll make an exception for Michael.

Backhands him, heavy rings on his fingers leaving a cut behind, blood spilling down Michael’s cheek as his head snaps to the side.

“You might want to rethink your position, Jones,” he says, sharp and clear, no extra emphasis on the sibilants this time.

Michael shakes his head, and looks back at good old Rudy. Sees the anger in his eyes, blood he’s shaking off his hand.

“Yeah?” Michael asks. Cocks his head as he hears noise outside the room they’ve got him in. Sounds a little like unexpected trouble coming Rudy’s way, what with the yelling. Sees Rudy straighten up, head turning towards the noise as it draws closer. “I could say the same for you, asshole.”

Rudy snarls, mouth opening to snap out orders to his bruisers but it’s too little too late as someone kicks the door open.

Smoke rushing in and sight of fire behind the figure in the doorway.

Dramatic bastard in his leather jacket and ridiculous mask.

Also, you know.

Mini-gun.

Rudy takes a step back, closer to Michael, and the Vagabond aims the mini-gun at him.

Just that.

Aims that monster of a gun at Rudy and lets him think things over. No rush, the Vagabond’s got plenty of time now that he’s here. Wouldn’t want to pressure Rudy or anything like that.

There’s this moment where Rudy glances over at Michael like he’s weighing the odds of him getting close enough to use Michael as a bargaining chip – but he’s one of the smarter ones. Gives up that line of thinking as he raises his hands and turns back to face the Vagabond.

The bruisers follow his lead, hands in the air as a familiar figure ducks around the Vagabond and plucks the guns out of the bruiser’s shoulder holsters. Ejects the magazines and tosses them in a corner of the room. Goes on to pat them down for any hidden weapons that end up in in the same corner, but he pockets their wallets with a little smirk.

Moves over to Rudy who is visibly seething, and flashes him this bright little grin. Pats his cheek before giving him the same treatment. (Shoots Michael a look, eyes narrowing as he spots the cut on Michael’s cheek and slips Rudy’s rings off his fingers.)

Rudy and his bruisers are glaring at Gavin, but Michael’s attention is on the Vagabond standing so very, very still, mini-gun humming away.

“Well, don’t you look a sight,” Gavin murmurs, hand on Michael’s shoulder as he slips around behind him to cut through the ropes tying him to the chair.

Rough stuff, Michael’s wrists rubbed raw from trying to get out of them earlier with no luck.

Michael snorts, lets Gavin help him to his feet. Hand on his elbow as he leads him towards the door. Michael digs his heels in when they draw even with the Vagabond. (Asshole doesn’t acknowledge them, focus on Rudy and his bruisers.)

“I’m okay,” Michael says, just loud enough for the idiot. “I’m fine.”

Little bit battered, bruised, but nothing he won’t heal from.

“Michael,” Gavin says, tugging on his elbow.

Michael sighs and lets Gavin escort him out of the building.

They pass by Jeremy and members of B-Team along the way having what looks like a pointed discussion with the handful of Rudy’s people still standing. (Offering them a choice.)

Michael pulls back against Gavin’s hold when he hears the first gunshots, scowls when the assholes tightens it for a moment before his hand drops away.

Gavin sighs.

“It’s not just about you,” he says quietly. “If bastards like him think they can get away with something like this, it’ll mean trouble for the crew.”

Michael knows that.

Knew that when he considered the risks involved in pursuing a relationship with Ryan. Sat down and thought about it, news on in the background and all the shit he saw on the job. Thought about everything he’d heard about the Fake AH Crew after moving to Los Santos, the shit they got up to. (Enemies they’d made and the ones they’ll make because they’re all idiots.)

Some days all that knowing hits harder than others, has a more direct impact.

“Come on,” Gavin says, walking ahead. “Let’s get you back to the penthouse where we can get you taken care of.”

========

The Vagabond shows up at the penthouse about an hour later.

Knocks on the door to Ryan’s suite and doesn’t let himself in afterwards, so Michael has to open it for him.

He’s still wearing the mask, but something about the way he’s standing makes it seem less like an intimidation tactic and more like something to hide behind. (Or maybe Michael’s full of bullshit.)

“Hey,” Michael says, stepping back to let him in.

He gets a grunt by way of greeting and a whiff of smoke as the Vagabond walks past. (Burning building with a touch of cigarette smoke tossed in.)

Watches the asshole look around like he’s expecting trouble, and sighs. (Long night for everyone.)

“I could use some help,” he says, brushes his fingers under the cut on his face. “Can’t get the fucking things on right.”

Always easier to for him when he’s treating someone else than himself and all that.

Michael had help resetting his nose because that’s always a bitch to do yourself, but insisted he could handle the rest. Minor stuff, just needed to clean up and slap a few band-aids on and call it a day.

No going back to his own place until the Fakes decide it’s safe, and this is as good as anywhere they’d let him go off after tonight. (Ryan’s place would have been a nice second-best, but he knows they want to keep him close until they shake off the what could have beens.)

Took the time to grab a quick shower, change out of his uniform and into a spare set of clothes he keeps here. Was just trying to decide where to start when he heard the knock at the door.

The Vagabond stares at him like he’s having trouble understanding him, so Michael walks over. Gives him this look, and cocks his head.

“You going to take that thing off?” he asks, and waits to see if the Vagabond’s done for the night or if he’s going to be sticking around for a while yet.

Hard to tell with him sometimes, you know? Guy’s got a lot of shit packed away in that head of his and this thing with Michael just adds to it some days. (Ones like this.)

The Vagabond keeps staring at him and Michael shrugs. Goes back to the bathroom to path himself up and breathes easier when he hears a tired sigh behind him. (Squeak of leather and this quiet noise of something landing on the coffee table.)

He’s sorting through Ryan’s first-aide kit when he hears shuffling footsteps, looks up to see another reflection in the mirror over his shoulder.

No face paint tonight, like he couldn’t be bothered with it. (Intricate design like that? Takes time to get it right.)

“You’re running low on a few things,” Michael says, which is ridiculous.

The Fakes have all that shit tucked away on one of the lower floors and Trevor making sure they stay stocked up because God knows they need it, the trouble they get into all the damn time.

There’s a little stare down until the idiot standing behind him sighs again, shaky little thing.

“I’m alright,” Michael says, because he is.

Going to hurt for a while maybe, but it could have been worse. (Might be, someday with his luck, but he’s going to think about that right now with the way the idiot’s looking at him.)

“You look like shit,” and it’s not so much the Vagabond telling Michael that as it’s someone closer to being Ryan.

Not quite there yet, but he’s losing that hard look in his eyes. The tension(guilt) he’s carrying around on his shoulders like it’s something that’s gonna bring him low one of these days.

“Yeah, well,” Michael says, and shrugs. “Shitty genetics.”

Another sigh with all this exasperation to it, and there Ryan is. Buried under a shitload of issues and misplaced guilt, regret, who even knows anymore.

“Michael - “

Michael's real stupid these days. Somehow got into a relationship with an idiot in the weirdest fucking way, got all tangled up with the group of misfits he calls a crew. (Sounds more like family when he says it though, has all those complicated feelings behind it.)

Forgets to be smart about things sometimes, and it gets him in trouble all over the place.

“Doesn’t look like it’ll leave a scar,” Michael says, studying his reflection. “Kind of sucks, guy at work keeps telling me chicks dig ‘em.”

The cut’s not that deep, more of a scratch. Looked worse than it is, all that blood and the general situation. All it needs is a butterfly band-aid or two and it’ll heal just fine.

Looking up at the idiot’s reflection, he can’t help but smile a little at the way his eyes narrow just the tiniest bit. (Knows Michael’s fucking with him and trying not to take the bait.)

Michael’s also more of an asshole these days. Must be the company he’s keeping.

“Is that so,” Michael hears, bit of strain to it.

Too soon, maybe, to be making light of things, but what else is he supposed to do with an idiot who insists on blaming himself for every shitty thing to happen to Michael like he’s got sole rights to it.

Michael’s the one who fucked up, let his guard down. Ryan’s just...fuck, who knows.

Maybe it is his fault people are looking at Michael like he’s an easy target, way to get at the Fakes. Maybe it would have happened anyway after Michael landed himself in Phil’s old spot looking after these assholes. Maybe things could have gone another way and Michael would have gotten suckered into helping some other bastard bleeding all over his stuff who’d leave Michael to fend for himself when trouble came calling.

Ryan’s going to want to talk about it, like he think he’s making a logical point about Michael being safer if he had nothing to do with the crew. (With him.)

Worried about the shit he puts Michael through. Shit he’s forced to deal with, know about, because it’s not like Ryan and the others hold down normal jobs. No ignoring what they do. Things they’ve done and things they’ll do. (Forgets no one has clean hands here in Los Santos, though.)

And then, because Michael's not a moron, he’ll to tell Ryan to go fuck himself if he thinks that’s the right answer to things in any world. Cat’s out of the bag on that one anyway, and even if he agreed with Ryan, went along with that stupidity, it wouldn’t magically fix things.

Assholes like Rudy would still target Michael because they’d know he’s still a link to the crew. Someone to be used against them still and making Ryan and Michael miserable for no goddamned reason. (They’ve been over this before, and yet.)

It’s late though, and they’ve had a long, shitty day. Michael would rather save the arguing for later, when he has the energy to tell Ryan all the ways he’s wrong and hopefully – maybe – have some of it stick in that thick skull of his.

So.

Michael shrugs and picks up one of the butterfly bandages, waves it at the idiot behind him who sighs again before taking it.

Small steps with this one, but worth it.

========

“What are we doing right now?”

Kind of a dumb question because there’s a really terrible movie playing on the television. Awful special effects with some poor bastard in a rubber monster suit terrorizing college co-eds.

Empty takeout containers on the coffee table and a bowl of popcorn and drinks for the two of them.

Comfortable couch and Ryan a decent stand-in for a pillow. (Ryan’s still a little shaky, mindset taking time to tick over, but Michael’s working on it.)

“Well,” Michael says, feeling comfortably fuzzy. “I kind of had a date tonight.”

Not quite dinner and a movie level thing because they’re boring as fuck when it comes to this shit, but he was promised enchiladas and that’s got to mean something.

“But then a thing came up,” Michael says, still running his mouth. “And I missed it.”

Ryan makes this little noise in the back of his throat, hums to himself. (Knows better than to bring up his stupid argument tonight because Michael’s not having it.)

“And then,” Michael goes on, rambling like an idiot. “I remembered you love to bitch about the science in these movies, so I figured it would be better than an IOU or something.”

Michael may be more than a little comfortably fuzzy, but what the hell right?

Ryan’s making this other noise now, body shaking with it. Michael’s no expert, be he’s thinking the asshole’s laughing at him.

Quiet little wheezing thing, with IOU mixed in, along with what the hell does that even mean? and Jesus Christ.

It. Yeah. Fuck if Michael knows.

“Shut the fuck up,” he hisses as the scene on the television switches to what’s supposed to be a high-tech lab for a corrupt corporation hoping to sell their abomination to the military for a shit-ton of money. All shiny and white and cliché as hell. “We’re getting to the first exposition dump.”

Ryan wheezes one last time before he quiets down, and Michael grins to himself as he feels the idiot getting more and more indignant about the blatant science bullshit the actors are spewing.

“Oh my God,” Ryan bursts out, sounding more himself than he has all night. “I don’t - No. That’s not how that works!”

Michael shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth and smiles to himself because yes, okay. Terrible movies and bad science isn’t quite the way to Ryan’s heart, but damn if it doesn’t piss him off enough to forget to be an idiot for a bit.

“I don’t know,” Michael says. “Makes sense to me.”

Why not splice animal DNA together in ways that wouldn’t work in the real world to create the perfect killing machine? What could possibly go wrong?

Ryan’s glaring at him, has to be, because Michael loves to do this to him. Make him watch the worst movies and go along with the terrible science just to annoy the fuck out of him.

It’s not the way he thought their night would go, but given the kind of city Los Santos is and their luck in general it’s a hell of a lot better than he expected and far more entertaining to boot.

==================================

Where the Heart Is

#myan #ragehappy #fake au #Crinkle Dot #implied/referenced torture #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯ #(still working on prompts guys #just #like #real slow #:D?)

[icecreambeach]

Hi! If you still have some mchanzo prompts open, may you please write “meeting in the park like that scene in 101 Dalmatians where they get tangled by their dogs”

I’m a huge sap because I ran away with this like Jesse’s dog is about to. Thank you for this excellent fluffy prompt

-       -       -

Jesse loves seeing dog owners who resemble their dogs. The park is especially full of them today, probably because it’s spring and everyone is out with their loved ones, eager to take part in the grand transformation. He sees a young, stocky man with his crew and a strapping young Rottweiler waiting for a frisbee to be thrown. There’s a family with a tiny, excitable daughter holding the leash to a prancing Papillon. A nervous-looking older man in a turtleneck clings to his leather brief and a lanky gray Weimaraner. There’s even a pair of old ladies with two equally old Westies, both of them wearing matching tracksuits. The dogs and the ladies.

But there’s no way anyone wouldn’t look at Jesse and Ria and make the same correlation. For a tall half-gringo with brown hair, brown eyes, and an unmistakably Western aesthetic, a lanky mutt that looks more like a coyote than any known breed of domestic canine works just perfect. Even their meeting seemed arranged by fate. Jesse picked her out of his dumpster one night and almost got his other hand bitten off for his trouble. After a few weeks of leaving out food and talking nice and soft, they became wary friends. A few more weeks, a few more treats, and Ria had her name and access to Jesse’s lumpy leather couch. Few women or men have ever taken his heart so easily. For a lonely ex-gangster turned soldier turned bounty hunter, Ria is more than Jesse feels like he deserves: fun, loyal, and a good listener, especially when it comes to the kind of dark sins he could never confess to anyone else. He has his suspicions, giving Ria’s wild nature and the manner in which they met, that she has her own rough and tumble past, but she only ever looks at him with big honey-colored eyes. Yowls for his attention, yowls at passing cats and squirrels. Yowls for any damn reason at all.

She’s doing it now at some tense Border Collie that caught her attention for whatever reason. Jesse gives her a gentle tug – he got the retractable leash to give her some freedom but, much like her owner, it’s impossible to know when she’s about to run. “Easy, girl.”

Ria stops at his voice but stays alert, tail swishing. Ears perked. The other dog owners steer their Collie away with distrusting looks and Jesse can’t say he blames them. Even without such a wild-looking dog, Jesse’s prosthetic arm and rough face are enough reason for most city-dwelling civilians to give a wide berth. He certainly wouldn’t want to see either he nor Ria locked and loaded and staring to kill. Even if he did tie a bright red bandana over her collar to cute her up some.

But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t sting a bit. “Back up, now. C’mon.”

Ria comes back to the path and Jesse hands her one of the twisty-treats he keeps inside a baggie in his back pocket. Then he loosens the retractable leash to let her lead. A responsible dog owner shouldn’t give her so much freedom, but he can’t help it. He knows the scars on her paws and muzzle, figures she’s earned an easy life. A younger McCree would never have been so soft, but time and miles make suckers out of even the toughest old gunslingers.

Jesse tilts his hat up to see where they should head next. There’s a reservoir in the center of the park, but everyone tends to head that way. There are climbing rocks and open meadow up ahead, but there’ll be a lot of small children and running dogs for Ria to chase. They could just keep to the smaller paths, maybe get an ice cream or a hot dog. It’s not what Jesse would choose for either of them, but he’s got a big yard. He can run her at home. The walks are for the novelty and the people-watching anyway.

But, not surprisingly, Ria has other plans. She barks, loud and rapid-fire, and Jesse looks up to see the new object of her fancy.

It’s an Akita. Not one of the smaller ones either – a burly, heavy-boned type of spitz that Jesse recognizes from when he used to research breeds for the Blackwatch K-9 unit. He can’t remember ever seeing so fine a specimen, even from all that reading. This dog is powerful beyond its stature. Its black-and-white coat is more a top layer of dark gray wash, as if watery ink had been spilled over paper, like those sumi-e drawings from ancient Japan. The fluffy white underside is pristine along with the rest of the dog, bright, healthy – obviously well-taken care of, with a shiny leather collar to boot.

The Akita’s near-black face is also pointed right at them. Its front legs are braced in a defensive position. It lets out a disgruntled huff and suddenly all the notes about the Akita’s intolerance of strangers comes shooting back to Jesse. He’s never seen a dog that wasn’t at least a little intimidated by Ria, but this dog is squared up.

And so is the owner. Jesse’s eyes widen. It’s practically absurd at this point, but this man also looks exactly like his dog: stocky, powerful, impeccable in expensive athleisure gear. His jet black hair is tied in an elegant knot with smooth shaved sides, his nasal bridge piercing matches the studs in each ear. An intricate tattoo peaks out from the half-rolled sleeves of his sweater and his obviously ripped physique is just as proud as his dark, hawk-like eyes.

Jesse can’t remember the last time he saw such a handsome face, let alone on such an obvious yakuza. It completely distracts him from the situation at hand until Ria jerks against the leash.

“Easy, girl!”

The man and the Akita may have stopped, but only for a moment. Once the man seems to recognize that Ria is controlled, he grazes his eyes over Jesse and then goes on his way. The Akita follows dutifully, not even stressing its short leash.

Jesse sighs with relief. That could have been bad. Ria is more friendly than aggressive, but he can’t say the same for any other dog, and that one didn’t look like it’d have the patience for her shenanigans.“Let’s go home, girl. I think you need some ball time in the yard.”

Jesse turns. With relief still flooding his system, his hand is slack. And he may or may not still be recalling the handsome face that had looked him over so cooly, so confidently.

It stands to reason that Ria would take advantage of that.

She bolts. Jesse whirls around, high-alert, but his finger hesitates on the retractable leash. At her pace, she’d most likely strangle herself if he stopped it now.

“Fuck– Ria! Stop!”

So he does the only other thing he can and chases after her, hoping to at least match her pace so he can ease her back.

“No, girl!”

Ria isn’t listening. She moves like a fish taking line and makes a B-line for the Akita. By the time Jesse has retracted more leash, the Akita has pranced away, and there’s still a lot of slack line – enough for Ria, chasing the Akita, to wind around Jesse and the strange man’s legs.

“Oh, hell–” Jesse tries to push away from the other man’s chest but they both nearly lose their balance in the process.

The other man reacts similarly, but staggers at the last second, keeps Jesse at bay with his hand around his phone. “Nanndayo–?”

Jesse tries to steady him, yanks his hands away. “Fuck, oh, I’m so sorry–”

The man grabs at Jesse’s jacket, releases him, staggers again. “What the hell are you–fuck, oh–”

“I’m sorry, oh– she’s just– dang it, Ria–”

“Get your– damn it–”

“Fuck, don’t–!”

“Stop pushing, you will–!”

But Ria keeps tugging, and the Akita keeps evading her, and then Jesse and the man are falling over one another into a heap of wildflowers. A few people laugh in surprise, some gasp. Jesse releases the retractable leash entirely as both men scramble away from one another and it sucks up line after Ria, untangling around their feet as she bounds after the Akita.

Luckily, the other dog simply stops to sniff her. Unluckily, the damage is done. Jesse pushes back his hat to see bright yellow pollen all over the stranger’s expensive outfit. When he curses in Japanese, bits of leaf and petal and dirt fly off his ruined hair. A few people who’d asked if they were okay take one look at the yakuza’s face and keep walking.

“Ah, shit… I’m so sorry, she ain’t usually that– let me help you–”

“Get off,” the man sneers, clamoring to his feet, “Look what you’ve done, you fool.”

“I’m sorry, I really am, I…” Jesse keeps his offered hand hovering, the other removing his hat. “She’s never bolted like that before, honest. I couldn’t be more–”He stops when the stranger looks right at his face and snorts with suppressed laughter.Jesse can’t help but smile back – he had no idea such a serious face could make such a handsome grin. “What?”The man points. “Your beard.”

With a swipe of his hand, Jesse realizes what he means. His fingers are smeared with pollen, which means his beard must look like he dusted it with yellow powder before leaving his house. And with brows as bushy as his, he assumes they look much the same way.

“Well…” Jesse drifts off, unable to suppress his own snort of laughter. It descends into raucous snickering, which the stranger also seems to find funny, because he answers with an actual laugh, a low scoff-chuckle that is still subdued but definitely genuine. He reaches out and plucks an actual pink flower from Jesse’s beard and Jesse loses it, throws his head back and guffaws, takes the flower with a tip of his hat, “You shouldn’t have,” and the stranger barks out a laugh that carries for a mile.

The dogs have since relaxed and now sniff and circle each other, both tails wagging.

“I really am sorry,” Jesse says once they’ve both calmed down. “I can pay to have it cleaned–”

“Feh,” the man waves him off, “It is nothing.” He dusts the pollen off of himself, glancing up at Jesse a few times. “A retractable leash is not appropriate for such a willful dog. You reward her for pulling by allowing her to get where she wants to go.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jesse mutters, ruffling his beard to get the pollen out. “Only had her for a few months now. I been soft. She’s had a hard time.”

“Hn. As has mine.” The man loosens his hair, letting it spill past his shoulders, and strokes it clean with his fingers while eyeing Jesse like a lord. “But she would benefit from a firmer hand.”

“Yeah, well…” Jesse smiles that smile he knows people like, slings his thumbs into his jeans waistband. Maybe it’s just springtime, but something’s got him feeling a bit dopey. “That makes two of us.”

The stranger raises a brow, looks away, but Jesse can see a coy smile playing at a corner of his mouth.

“What’s’name?”

The man looks to his dog, then to Jesse. “Choco.”

“Oh, ah, no – I meant, what’s your name?”

The man straightens his shoulders, looks Jesse up and down again. “Hanzo.”

“Nice to meet you, Hanzo,” Jesse extends a hand (clean) and takes Hanzo’s firmly. Hat still pressed to his chest. “I’m Jesse.”

Hanzo seems pleased with the polite gesture. “Pleasure.”“Hey,” Jesse grins again, “Anyone ever tell you that you ‘n Choco kinda–”

“Resemble one another?” Hanzo finishes with a smirk.

They both smile at each other, then look down at their dogs, both of whom are now looking back up at them.

Jesse leans over to take Ria’s leash, gives her a look that is equal parts exasperation and gratitude, then looks at Hanzo with what he hopes is a relatively confident smile. “Well,” he adjusts his hat back on his head, “He’s a real good-lookin’ dog.”“She is.” Hanzo fixes him with an almost-smile, one hand in his pocket. He still hasn’t reached for Choco’s leash.

Which just makes Jesse’s nerves vibrate even harder. “Real well-trained, too.”“Thank you.”

“And I… I dig that collar.”

“Not as handsome as a red bandana.”

Jesse chuckles, thumbs his jaw before he remembers that it’s probably still got pollen on it. When was the last time he felt this flustered trying to ask someone out?

“Well, uh…”

Hanzo just stands there, still sort-of-smiling. Even with grass poking out of his loose hair, he looks like a million bucks. He also looks like he’s either waiting for a sign or looking for a place to bury a knife.

But Jesse knows how to bait a wild animal. “Guess I outta get lil’ Ria here some obedience training.”

“I doubt you need go to such lengths,” Hanzo replies. And then, right on cue: “I could give you some guidance, if you like. Do you drink coffee?”Jesse grins. “I love coffee. My treat, o’course.”“Of course.”Hanzo whistles and Choco comes trotting up to his side. He bends to take her leash and Jesse swears he can see just the briefest flash of a pleased smile.He nods down at Choco. “That Akita is one loyal breed, huh?”“Yes,” Hanzo effortlessly smooths his hair back up into its knot. “If their trust is earned,” he drops his hands, looks at Jesse, and smiles at the ground as he steps back onto the path, “They can be very loyal indeed.”

Jesse tries to mask the thrill that rockets over his face by dipping his chin, boots stuttering onto the gravel. Ria stays close by his leg this time, lets out a happy bark. Without taking his eyes off of Hanzo, Jesse dips a hand deep into his back pocket and gives her a whole fistful of treats.

“Good girl.”

#mchanzo #mchanzo fanfic #mchanzo prompts #overwatch fanfic

[mobius-prime]

117. Sonic the Hedgehog #68

Surprise!

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Frank Gagliardo

So it's Sonic's birthday! Funnily enough this issue didn't even come out in the same month as Sonic's canon birthday from the games, which is June 23 (the date the first Sonic game was released), but he's turning sixteen this issue, actually putting him a year ahead of his games counterpart. If we do assume that his birthday in the comics is the same as his canon birthday, and they just didn't bother matching up the month it came out, then we're looking at about two years having passed since the beginning of this comic, since we've seen at least two separate instances of summer passing so far. With all that said, this story features a cute little gimmick where on every page, one candle is shown being lit i a small aside panel, until it finally reaches sixteen on the last page. Let's jump into it!

Sally and the rest of the Freedom Fighters plus Amy Rose are hanging out in Knothole, having taken a couple days off from work in the city to decompress, and find themselves fretting over whether Sonic will be back today in time for his own birthday. Of course, the man in question, along with his traveling companions, has just arrived in the city, ready for a party!

Wow, that's quite a party everyone's setting up considering no one was even sure he'd be back in time, huh? We pan up to space for another satellite sequence, our fourth so far, this time with a K-SAT unit. However, this one's a little different - the satellite actually locks onto a cluster of asteroids in space, appearing to pull them in. What's it doing…?

Meanwhile, in the apparently-separate-from-Robotropolis-proper city of West Robotropolis, abandoned and located on Big Kahuna Island, Snively is feeling a tad nervous as he and his crew hide out amongst the buildings. He had ordered everyone to bring along the crystallized Kodos and Uma Arachnis when they fled the Devil's Gulag, but now they're questioning this decision as, well, the two of them are just statues at this point and not really being a big help. Snively is doing his best to continue to act like the leader, because everyone thinks he's the one who let them out of their cells even though he has no idea how it happened. His cohorts start arguing over how they're going to invade Mobotropolis, but they find themselves interrupted by the very two people they had just been talking about…

Well, that's a good sign! Within Knothole, Sally gets a transmission through Nicole from her father, telling her to hurry back to the city, so she can experience the celebration for someone from her past who's returned after a long time away. Sally and the others are delighted to hear that Sonic's back, and rush towards the city. Meanwhile, in the city itself, Sonic, Tails, and Nate are still making their way around, admiring the setup for the celebration.

Rosie catches sight of the three cloaked figures, and begins to recognize who they are, but before she can catch up to them, suddenly a shout from a nearby citizen alerts everyone to a disaster - asteroids are falling from the sky directly onto the city! The heroes leap into action - Sonic and Tails rescuing civilians on one end of the city, Sally and the other Freedom Fighters rushing to help evacuate on the other. As Dulcy blasts asteroids with her fire breath before they can destroy more infrastructure, Nicole tells Sally that there had indeed been a cluster of asteroids passing by the planet, but they shouldn't have been on a collision course. However, Sally finds herself distracted from this mystery when she spots Sonic racing by, and rushes after him. Sonic races toward her and grabs her before she can be hit by the last asteroid, and as the shower stops, everyone congregates in the street, happily greeting one another and giving Sonic a chance to introduce Nate.

Well, that's strange. If the celebration isn't for Sonic's birthday, then what's it for? They decide to head to the palace, where the king greets his daughter happily. Sally tries to inform him of the success of Sonic's mission to stop Naugus, but the king cuts her off dismissively, and draws everyone's attention to the palace doors, where a familiar face makes his entrance…

Oh, did… did someone forget to tell Sally she has a secret older brother? Awk-waaaaard…

Geoffrey, at this point, has noticed Nate hiding underneath his cloak, and aggressively assumes he's an Overlander making an attempt on the king's life, but King Acorn quickly steps in and happily embraces his "Uncle Nate," pleased to be reunited with him once again. Sonic, meanwhile, is mildly disgruntled that the parade and decorations weren't for his birthday after all, but in the end, all his friends and family take him back to Knothole where he gets a small celebration of his own, as the final candle is lit on his birthday cake! We'll have to deal with that whole Elias situation in the future, as we have a Wolf Pack to catch up with first.

Lupe and the Wolf Pack (Part 2): Survival of the Fittest

Writer/Colors: Ken Penders Pencils: Sam Maxwell

Lupe and her people have successfully managed to cross the river, but the storm is now raging, and they rush to take shelter. They find themselves in an old abandoned town with run-down buildings and broken windows, and begin to hear a few suspicious noises. Lupe leads her pack into what appears to be an abandoned warehouse to check the noises out, and after a bit of searching, finds the source of the sounds.

Bro, that's a child. I really doubt she's trying to kill you all. Upon hearing Reynard's rather hostile tone, a second child rushes out and attempts to tackle him, shouting for him not to hurt her sister. Lupe, after scolding Reynard, takes both the children and gently asks them some questions.

So now the Wolf Pack has a couple of orphaned Overlander children to look after, huh? They're lucky they fell into the hands of Lupe. I really love her as a character, honestly - I feel like not enough motherly-type characters are also shown to be strong leaders. Female characters are oftentimes shoehorned into either the Strong Female Character stereotype that punches things and acts ruthless, or otherwise they're the Mommy type that gently takes care of all children and doesn't do much else. Lupe is kind of the best of both worlds - a strong, confident leader of her people, and also kind to children. She's just generally a great character, in my opinion.

#nala reads archie sonic preboot #archie sonic #archie sonic preboot #sonic the hedgehog #sth 68 #writer: karl bollers #writer: ken penders #pencils: steven butler #pencils: sam maxwell #colors: frank gagliardo #colors: ken penders

[cakesnothere]

Cake’s Super Sons: The Polarsheild Project Rant

Starting off, context... Polarshield Project focuses on Jon and Damian (read: ‘Ian’) during the Polar ice caps melting, Global warming, in the “Near future.” <(Exact quote from book). Scientist figure they can stop this by using special dust to coat the Earth “like an umbrella” to cool it down. This ‘dust’ can be found on an asteroid floating near Mars. Superman has to go to said asteroid.. and well y’all don’t care about logistics, let’s get into it...

(I edited the little info boxes in the back of the book so they could all fit. Read these to be a little caught up if you so desire.)

Anyways, as you can just see from a glance Damian, Jon, and Candace seem to be the main three in this story considering their bios are the longest. And you’d be right but this new girl ‘ Tilly” is part of the main squad and does practically nothing to keep her place. I guess this is more me nit-picking, but I can’t help but wonder if they just shoehorned some random female side character just to fill the quota for ‘important female characters’. Candace is fine, I don’t really have any issues with her since she’s practically has the personality of a cardboard box and is really only here to drive the plot forward. Again, maybe I’m nit-picking, but I couldn’t tell you much about her aside from she can predict the future (???) and is an “African Princess” (???). 

Tilly and Patience’s presence tick me off the most because they A- Didn’t need to be here or either B- Could’ve been replaced. Patience takes place of Alfred, whom of which is fucking dead. Or at least I heavily speculate with the sus sounding sentence from Patience herself that said “We all wish he (Alfred) was here.” Like y’all really fuckin killed off Alfred.... Y’all have no shame.

Ok so, let’s do a compliment sandwich. Some parts of this story actually made me laugh or smile. Like what the absolute hell is a “door knocker”? Well I’ll tell you, an idiot, the same kinda idiot that felt a thirteen year old knows what the fuck a ‘door knocker’ is and would physically use it in their vocabulary. I can’t tell if it was intentional to make Jon have that ‘I’m a county boy’ kinda speech, of the writers really felt someone at that age would just... speak like this. That being said, 98% of the things that made me laugh ultimately made me question if it was all intentional or if they really threw shit at the wall and it stuck. 

Now that that’s out of the way.... They completely ruined these characters. The first actual page of the book shows Jon leaning on Damian and Damian looking rather pissed as he tends to be. This gave me some glimmer of hope because that shows the the artist (or crew) went out of their way to demonstrate on a surface level what the two’s dynamic is. Its rather comical how backwards both Jon and Damian act that if you switched their dialogue and actions I’d almost let this entire book slid.

Jon is an aggressive war machine. He tosses people in board-fucking-daylight (no costume or nothing) over his head like they weigh nothing. During one part in particular he practically doesn’t trust the entire ‘team’ and thinks they’re all ‘un-loyal’. He almost beats the shit out of Damian more times then I can count, and back talks nearly everyone... including that girl Tilly, whom he kissed on the forehead after like five hours of meeting her.

Damian is just as bad, if not worse. Again, I can’t tell if they were aiming for Damian being his typical bratty self. He’s less of a know-it-all and more I-have-more-money-than-you kinda guy. During the teams one big infiltration scene, Jon was the first to figure out the hidden switch location. He was the first to collect any real evidence on the tainted food supply. He found out Damian was lying to him practically immediately. Jon also out smarted Damian’s attacks. Both mentally and physically. Jon had Damian pinned to a wall in seconds flat when they fought which... ok??? Superman is over-powered. Fine. I can handle little baby Damian Wayne not being able to beat the Son of Superman in a wrestling match, but he should at least be able to outsmart the man of steel’s son?! If Damian is one thing, he’s smart... too smart. Damian hasn’t been very hush-hush on the fact that he’s Batman’s son. Like “Batkid”, really?! He’s not even dressed like Batman. If he at least had a cape maybe I’d be a little less offended. 

Moving on... This comic is an absolute shit storm. It’s called Super Son’s but it mainly focuses on Candace’s past, and who she is supposed to be, and also Jon and how smart and strong he is. "Ian” is this weak annoying little shit that at times has something akin to the original Damian’s look and appeal, but it inevitably falls flat because his personality is so watered down and his appearance only really resembles Damian’s if you squint in the dark. 

This book gave me whiplash on all the clashing colors they tried to paint Damian’s skin. Some times he was almost as pale as Jon (only when Jon also wasn’t on the page) and other time’s he seemed just the right shade (the cover). I’m going to assume they made his hair brown so that you could easily differentiate Jon and Damian at just a glance... but this book is for tween’s, not fucking babies.

And Damian not having green eyes? I’m really not sure on that one. Maybe Jon’s blue eyes would be too close to Damian’s emerald ones? Regardless, its stupid as hell.

I just can’t help feel that Damian really got the short end on this one. His character comes second to Jon’s which is painfully obvious by the change in character design only to Damian, and the lack of defining characteristics that made Damian... Damian. 

Oh, and this? I have no idea why he want’s to be called ‘Ian’. It’s never touched upon ever again after this. He get’s called Ian the rest of the story and there is really no context to explain why he wants to? He practically idolizes his father in this book so I can’t see it being because he wants to separate himself for the man as much as possible. It’s just another thing that the writers added in that holds no weight in this story. It’s just kinda there to be there.

All in all this story was kinda hard to follow since there were so many opposing story lines and new characters, and just things that my brain couldn’t possibly follow all at once. As someone with a reading disability, reading the regular Super Sons comics were easier to follow and grasp then whatever this ‘childrens’ book was trying to do.

Not only did they kill off Alfred, but they killed my sons and I am upset :(

#super sons the polarshield project #super sons #the adventures of super sons #Damian Wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent #jondami #damijon #ian wayne #dc #dc comics #robin #batman #superman #cake rants #long post

[outside-seoul]

Game of Thrones, 8.4

In case you had any doubts, I am incapable of shutting up about Jaime and Brienne.

Their pairing is as epic and elemental as storytelling has to offer. They were inevitable--the handsome rich boy met his match in the strong, hardworking girl, and sparks flew. It’s a tale as old as time. But the chemistry between Jaime and Brienne isn’t only visible to consumers of narrative like us. People in the story can’t miss it, either. Cersei, Vonn, and (tragically) Tormund all saw it without being told.

At this point in the show, Jaime and Brienne have been through a lot together. They’ve been enemies and allies, criticizers and conspirators. But it’s not until the celebration of the Battle of Winterfell that we really see them as friends just being together. 

Usually you have to be watching a Korean drama to see a hand touch as significant as the one that happens in this episode. Brienne puts a hand over her cup as Jaime tries to pour her wine, but he won’t have it. He reaches out and covers her hand with his own for a long moment--there’s no shyness or uncertainty here, just tenderness. It’s a simple physical touch that means something to both characters in a way Western entertainment rarely seems to imagine.

Finally, Jaime pulls Brienne’s hand away from her cup and says, “If this isn’t the time to drink, when is?” She smiles in response, an unguarded expression that doesn’t seem quite at home on her face. For possibly the first time ever, Jaime and Brienne make real, true eye contact as they sit across the table at the feast. Neither of them can quite manage to look away, even as they toast and drink.

Brienne’s face is colorful with bruises in this scene, which reminds me of a riddle I once heard. You arrive in a town with two barbers--one who’s sloppy with a terrible haircut, and one who’s impeccably groomed with an amazing haircut. If you yourself want to look good, you’re supposed to go to the sloppy barber--he’s the one who cut the other guy’s hair. In this scenario, Brienne is the sloppy barber. She’s a skilled swordswoman who took up the slack to protect her one-handed boyfriend in a fight, and her face shows how hard that was.

In the festivities that follow, Jaime and Brienne are finally relaxed and safe, and it’s increasingly obvious that they’re becoming a couple right before our eyes. “You have danced with Renley Baratheon,” Jamie says, and there’s betrayal in Brienne’s eyes when she looks at Pod. We know that she told Pod that story once, and now we know that Pod and Jaime talked about Brienne when she wasn’t around.

Tyrion, the only person who might ship Brienne and Jaime more than I do, decides to move the evolution of their relationship along. He quirks an eyebrow at Brienne as he takes a drink, then starts talking about the status of her virginity. (Which is, admittedly, a major dick move.)

I’ve read that some people don’t like what happens next, but I think it’s perfect. Brienne stands up and announces in a loud voice, “I have to piss.” This works for me both because that’s what drinking does to you, and also because it’s just the sort of thing a woman would say when she’s going out of her way not to be seen as a woman.

Unlike lone-wolf Arya, Brienne is a team player. She’s spent her adult life surrounded by soldiers, rough men who measure their worth in blood. To blend in with that crowd, she’s learned to minimize her femininity, behaving like one of the guys. So when she’s confronted with this somewhat embarrassing fact about herself as a sexual being, as a woman, she makes it clear to everyone around her that she’s not some swooning lady. She’s a rude, crude, dangerous solider. (Who was until just recently making heart eyes at her dream man.)

All this lasts until potty-mouthed Tormund shows up, at which point Brienne turns back into her chilly, aloof self. Brienne wants to keep Tormund at a distance--she’s not interested in being accessible to him. So instead of earthy soliderisms, her response is queen’s English. “Please pardon me for a moment,” she says, stepping around him. 

Tormund starts to follow her, but Jaime stands in his way. The rueful look Jaime gives him is worth about a million words: She’s mine, it says. You never even had a chance. As Brienne leaves the room, she looks back to see that Jaime is following her. She quickens her pace; he does, too.

In Brienne’s room, we see some of old Jaime. He’s disdainful of the north and almost looking for a fight with Brienne--"How about Tormund Giantsbane? Has he grown on you?” Jaime asks, his tone suggestive, his posture aggressive. 

Brienne has been drinking all night, but I think it’s Jaime who’s really drunk in this scene. Knowing what I know now, it seems like there are two things at play here. First of all, Jaime is afraid and uncertain about what it means to love Brienne. The buzz gives him the bravery he needs to move toward her. But deeper than that, his association with her has made Jaime see himself as he really is--as a flawed man who’s done terrible things, a man who probably isn’t worthy of her love. As he drinks, he forgets that being with him will sully her.

The eye contact in this scene is the most sexually explicit thing that’s ever been on my television set. It’s a miracle that the entire planet didn’t spontaneously combust when it was being filmed--Jaime looks at Brienne like a starving man would look at a thousand banquets.

When Jaime struggles to open his shirt, Brienne’s caregiving instincts kick in. She does it for him, and when she finally pulls his shirt off altogether, the scene looks like something that might happen between a mother and a child. Jaime raises his arms straight above his head, and she patiently tugs his shirt over his head. Even beyond desire, there’s trust in that moment.

And it’s a good thing the production crew threw us this bone, because from the kiss on, the relationship between Jaime and Brienne has changed, and not for the better. Afterwards, they settle into a domestic routine that involves sharing one bed. But while Brienne sleeps, Jaime watches her from the other side of that bed and broods. Is it because making love to her was a failed attempt to banish his demons? Is it because he loves Brienne and fears for her future in a world that’s so violent and awful? Is it because he wants to go home to his sister/wife?

Alas, by the end of this episode, we still don’t know what’s going on with Jaime. All we know is that in the middle of the night, he saddles up his horse, and prepares to leave Winterfell without even saying goodbye to Brienne. No matter what has happened to Brienne up to this point, she’s remained in control. If this show actually were the romance novel I wish it was, she would definitely be described as “haughty,” that most obnoxious of adjectives. But when she realizes Jaime will really leave her, Brienne falls apart. “You’re not like you’re sister. You’re not,” she says. “You’re better than she is. You’re a good man and you can’t save her.”

Cersei is what caused Jaime to leave Brienne. But I don’t think it’s because he wants to return to her as a lover--it’s because he feels obligated to save her or at least die with her, as Brienne acknowledges during their confrontation. “She’s hateful,” says a broken Jaime. “And so am I.”

Jaime has failed Cersei before. She suffered in prison and was humiliated by the high sparrow, all when he was powerless to help her. That hurt him, and it’s probably part of the reason he wants to leave. But could he be going to King’s Landing to offer Cesei another way out--to pour her a glass of poison, the same way he did Lady Olena? A painless death with dignity could be his final gift to Cersei.

For Brienne, this moment is excruciating. She fostered Jaime through so much, and she hoped they had finally arrived at a place where he was free to love her. But all her work building him into a better man seems at this moment to be for nothing--Jaime hates himself for what he’s done wrong, and he can’t allow himself to be happy. So off he rides into the dark night, leaving Brienne sobbing.

 Other thoughts

*One podcast I listened to correctly pointed out that it’s unfortunate that Sansa seems to consider repeated rape and physical and emotional abuse a valuable character-building experience. But that same attitude comes up again and again in this show, especially when Bran is involved. With both Theon and Jaime, Bran makes it clear that his horrible past was simply a way to his meaningful present--not something to be regretted or apologized for.

* In spite of Pod supposedly wowing some sex workers with his magic cock, he clearly drinks when Tyrion says “You’re a virgin” during their drinking game.

#game of thrones #brienne x jaime

[ergomaria]

Miles to Go Before I Sleep Ch. 10

Cannon fire screeched and boomed from all directions as the Ebon Hawk swooped through Rataka Prime's atmosphere, breaking past the light cloud cover and skimming closer to the ocean than was probably advisable. Vann could see it all from his position near the exit hatch, which was prepped to open the second the freighter passed directly over the main battle for the Republic's base. He clutched a handle in the bulkhead, his knuckles white as he mentally prepared himself to leap out of the freighter while it was still airborne.

Atton's voice was strained as it crackled over the shipwide comm system. "You three are sure you want to do this, right?"

On the other side of the hatch, Meetra chuckled humorlessly. "Want to and need to are very different things."

"It's not the first time we've done this." Vann tried to sound nonchalant, even as he muttered, "Or so I've been told."

"The last time we made an aerial entrance into a battle you laughed through the entire drop." The wistfulness in Alek's tone was unsettling. Almost as unsettling as the fact that he was on the Hawk in the first place.

"That was before I almost died in a fiery ship crash. Or did you already forget about that?"

Interrupting what was sure to become yet another verbal sparring match, Meetra ordered, "Both of you hush, we're getting close. I can feel the Sith."

The cold prickle of the dark side had been raising the hairs on the back of Vann's neck for a few minutes now, though the sensation was rapidly morphing into a chill that raced down his spine as the Hawk neared the base. But as he extended his awareness he also felt a familiar shimmer through his Force bond. "They're not the only ones down there. I sense Bastila, which means the others are probably nearby. Rand, prepare to open the hatch!"

"For the record, you're all idiots. Opening the hatch in five, four, three, two…"

The rush of air that buffeted Vann's face was strong enough to blind him for the few seconds it took for his body to adjust to the sensation. As his vision cleared he saw Meetra shielding her eyes with her forearm as she carefully scanned the battle below. Bright sunlight glinted off of the Sith troopers' armor as they marched forward firing their rifles indiscriminately at anything that moved. The bolts carved streaks of red through the air, only to dissipate into sparks as they were deflected by multiple lightsabers that flashed a rainbow of colors. Even from a distance, the Force crackled with power that flowed forth in a dappled field of light and shadow.

A distant wave of frigid energy caught Vann's attention and he squinted against the wind as he searched for the source. He spotted several figures dressed in black slipping behind the line of troopers, their clothing partially camouflaging them against the craggy cliffs that surrounded the base. It appeared that dark Force users had been sent to support the Sith soldiers, a good tactic that could have deadly consequences for the Republic's fighters.

"There are dark Force users approaching the base. I'm going to try to head them off!" Gathering his courage, Vann took a running start along the landing ramp before flinging himself out of the hatch. The initial drop made his stomach plummet and he struggled to regain control of his limbs as he tumbled through the air. Sucking in a breath he summoned his power and managed to use the Force to guide his body, making it easier to control his trajectory and significantly slowing his fall.

The Ebon Hawk had been flying relatively low, especially for a spacecraft, but the drop was still enough to kill any normal person who wasn't equipped with a parachute. As it was, all of Vann's concentration was focused on restraining his speed while also steering his body to an exact point on the ground. Behind him, he could feel two familiar Force presences falling in the same controlled manner, each surrounded by a mixture of excitement and mild terror. Consciously, he found it disconcerting to be relying on individuals who he barely knew, especially when one of them had spent months trying to kill him. But a deeper part of him whispered that this felt right, like a small piece of a much larger puzzle finally sliding into place.

A flash of yellow alerted Vann to Bastila's position and he aimed for it, holding back a scream as his speed increased. His heart was hammering in his chest as panic and adrenaline made his limbs quiver while he fought to land upright. While he was able to strike the ground feet-first, his rear end ultimately absorbed most of the impact. Quickly rolling to his feet he drew and ignited both of his lightsabers, the brilliant red of the weapon in his off-hand feeling less foreign than he expected. Shaking off the last of his nerves he leaped forward, slashing at the nearest trooper and taking them down with three hits to the neck and shoulders.

Sensing Vann's presence through the bond, Bastila turned towards him, her eyes wide. "Where did you come from? And what are you wielding?"

"It's kind of a long story!"

Using her dual blades to deflect a series of rifle fire, Bastila glanced around just long enough to notice Meetra and Alek. "Wait, is that…?!"

"That's an even longer story." Two shots whizzed by and Vann dove to deflect them back to their source. "There are dark Force users incoming. Fight now, talk later!"

Turrets screamed as the Hawk made a second pass over the battlefield, Brianna and Mira manning the guns as Atton expertly steered around the chaos. The plan was for the ship to initially provide aerial coverage and then land when things were clearer so that the crew could help on the ground if necessary. They were almost certainly going to be needed.

Carving through a Sith's helmet and shoulder with a whirling strike, Vann moved towards the edges of the fray as he tried to sense the dark Force users who were trailing the troopers. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder expecting to spot Bastila following his lead, only to be startled by a red blur somersaulting elegantly through the air. Juhani landed between two Sith troopers, cleaving through the head of one before turning to kick the other hard in the gut. The former mercenary had forgotten that the Cathar replaced her drab garments and battered leather vest with longer, flowing robes that helped to disguise her motions in battle. The new attire was obviously a tribute to her heritage.

Bastila nodded to the Juhani and swiftly moved to cover her ally, shifting to a more defensive style as she focused on deflecting shots from the troopers. Flowing into a complementary series of maneuvers the Cathar tumbled and flipped around the other Force user, taking advantage of the protection to attack the Sith more aggressively. Striking to her left before twirling right she managed to cut down two troopers in one motion, her lightsaber rending their armor and leaving deadly gashes in their chest and abdomen. In the background Bastila was calm and focused as she flowed through the moves of her preferred Soresu, almost no bolts managing to slip past her. As she perfected her rhythm she began to deflect the fire directly back, one Sith collapsing as his own shot shattered the visor of his helmet before boring into his skull.

Watching the two women work together sent a surge of pride through Vann, though he couldn't deny the tinge of jealousy that joined it. He used to be the individual Bastila worked best with in the middle of a firefight, but that was before he unintentionally abandoned his friends for two years. There were consequences to his impulsive decision and drifting apart from his students as they forged individual paths was only one of them. But he didn't have time to linger on his mistakes. The cold chill of the dark side became smothering as two dark Force users appeared amidst the storm of blaster bolts. Not for the first time, the former mercenary wished that he could have gotten HK-47 functional before the Sith attacked. Having an assault droid on their side would have been extremely advantageous, especially since he could have picked off a few of these Force users before they reached this point. But some of his necessary parts had been accidentally misplaced…

Giving his lightsabers a twirl to help clear his thoughts, Vann rushed to meet his opponents. The moment they spotted him they also drew their weapons, the brilliant crimson shining ominously against their black robes. A wicked hum reverberated through the air as all of their blades clashed, the former mercenary holding a Sith off with each hand. It was only his Force-enhanced strength that enabled him to push back one of his opponents, allowing him to turn and parry the second with ease. His main blade caught an incoming attack as the weapon in his off-hand slipped through the black-clad figure's guard, wounding them deeply in the arm. Ducking beneath a swing from the first Sith, he summoned his power and used it to throw them into the nearest trooper.

The color of Vann's lightsabers may have been new but the thrum of the crystals resonating through the Force was comfortingly familiar as he blocked a sloppy stab from his injured adversary. With a wide swing of his main arm, he slashed low and sliced through their gut, ending their fight. But he'd been careless and now his other opponent was descending on him with unnatural speed. The heat of their blade was near enough to burn, the attack already too close to be fully deflected. The best the former mercenary could hope to do was dodge enough of the blow to stay upright and then use the pain to give him strength. He was bracing to do just that when the dark Force user suddenly stopped, their weapon slipping from their hands as their whole body went limp thanks to the silvery plasma piercing their heart.

As the Sith crumpled, Meetra tisked playfully. "You always leave your flank open."

Frenzied blaster fire erupted as another wave of troopers marched swiftly towards the base, the shriek of rifles punctuated by the heavier boom of grenades. The Republic was responding with their turret defense system, the turbo cannons recognizable by their twinned shots. But behind all of that chaos was something gnawingly cold, a moaning and insatiable hunger that swallowed the energy released by every death across the battlefield. The Sith Lords were getting closer and their presence was just as menacing as their reputation.

"That's Nihilus." Meetra's eyes narrowed as she reached for her comm. "I should contact the Hawk and tell Brianna to stay onboard."

"No. Give her the chance to face her darkness. It's the best thing you can do for her." Behind him, Vann could still feel Bastila fighting off the troopers threatening to overtake the base. Distantly he wondered if he had somehow betrayed her by bringing her own dark past into their home.

Red sparks flew through the air as Meetra deflected bolts with practiced precision, her stance firm and her grip easy. She flowed with the battle and the longer Vann fought beside her the easier it was for him to fall into the same rhythm. There was something inspiring about the way she approached combat that almost reminded him of Bastila's battle meditation. While it lacked the pinpoint precision of that power, it still created a mental link that made moving in tandem and anticipating each other's actions seem nearly effortless.

Meetra was a skilled lightsaber combatant but that obviously wasn't where her strength lay. Though she deflected rifle shots with little trouble she preferred to attack her opponents using the Force, throwing them across the battlefield or trapping them in place. That tactic worked well for Vann who took advantage of the opportunities provided by cutting down multiple enemies with a few quick strikes. He was dispatching a line of troopers who were held in stasis, his lightsabers humming fiercely as he carved past their armor, when he felt a prickle of warning slide down his neck. Whirling around he brought both weapons up just in time to block an aerial chop from another dark Force user, their blade hovering dangerously close to his face until he managed to deflect them back.

Parrying the next attack with his off-hand, Vann pivoted and then struck with his main blade. The move was unexpected, catching the Sith by surprise when it cut a long gash across their ribs. As they roared in pain the sickly yellow of their eyes seemed to glow and they drew a ragged breath before attacking with renewed vigor. The next two strikes were barely evaded and the former mercenary shifted his crimson 'saber into a reverse grip to better shield his vitals. Diving low he mostly ducked beneath a third blow, suffering a small gash to his shoulder as he lashed out with both blades simultaneously so that he could cripple his opponent's leg. They fell to one knee as he rolled to his feet and stabbed backward with his off-hand, searing through the Sith's abdomen.

The shout of warning that reverberated through the air was both heard and felt, causing Vann to look up just in time to see a hail of rifle fire headed directly towards him. He immediately dove out of the way, deflecting shots as he moved. But he was reacting quickly and missed more than a few rounds. The remaining bolts sped towards him, ready to puncture his side, only to be blocked at the last moment by a brilliant flash of orange. The lightsaber was handled with surprising deftness as it deflected the fire with raw power.

"Watch your flank," Alek commented dryly.

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