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#OKAY this is my last stupid fuckin' d&d post
munamania · 2 months
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bitch post time!!!!!! many revelations ok last night's vibes were HEINOUS but it provided so much for me and lydia to talk about and now i am gonna share with you yippee storytime
k so we plan to go to this valentines day showcase thing that the college radio is putting on last night. mind you at my place of work where i pretended that i had a family emergency and had to go home cause i didnt feel like going into work yesterday morning lol idiot... i was so paranoid my boss was there in disguise or some shit it was stupid. sorry um. yeah so ok i was largely like this could be a chance for friend groups to come together and maybe ill be able to talk to sams roommate and also like i do want to see more live music and it's free! so. anyway ok wait let me tell u abt the first part of the day
so me and lydia drive over some wine bottles to sam for him to use as props in a film. and sam and the roommate are sitting on their porch and we chat a little bit acc sam said as i walked up 'you always look so suspicious' and i was like 'ok u guys were literally just staring at me' cause they WERE and roommate was actually really nicely like 'oh no you're okay' and generally was just kind of inserting into our convo which well i had fun with naturally. um anyway and then who comes running up but teko! our buddy teko. and sams like have yall met and im like Of course and teko gives me a hug and i cant lie it was actually so sweet. i am also extremely touch starved but it was a nice hug. anyway. then i had to help roommate pick shoes alongside teko's fit and then i was like um Ok Bye. when i got back in the car lydia was like so i saw a neon sweatshirt... and i was like yeah <3 that's my man <3 sorry ok vibes get worse as the night comes
me and lydia end up getting to sam's late to 'pregame' this show and ig it was supposed be like. it was encouraged to dress formally. and i was wearing a dress that was too small and my chappell red tights and docs. kind of a serve but me and lydia were serving much more valentines day than formal. anyway. roommate does swing around to be like hi! and THEN i see my girl chloe i looooove her shes so fuckin funny and weird and we made this weird little short together in class last semester and i was kinda intimidated by her so i was so happy shocked when she was like I was so excited to see u :D WEEE shes so cool guys and has the funniest fuckin laugh and well honestly the high points of the night were us and lydia fucking around and dancing and being weird and offputting wallflowers cause again this thing SUCKED. ok
we did also smoke beforehand and i accidentally took this huge hit and then thought id be fine w a little more but brother was i feeling funny. did not eat enough and didnt take water it was atrocious. so. we get there and let me tell you if I WAS WORKING i'd have been able to fix the fact that it was soooooooooo fucking loud in there like bad bad bad audio distortion etc i wanted to kick this dude off the mixer but like what ever... it hurt so bad. and the lights were mostly on until chloe and sam duped this guy into dimming some of them but even still it was giving middle school dance. without the fun cheesy music. some of my instagram gay people are there. um but sorry there was simply no way i was going near that dance floor like the bands lowkey highkey sucked (i mean it was just a bunch of white college dudes and they did not slay. shocker. sam kept being like 'they're so good' and we were like um haha... straight face emoji)
we acc disappeared for a while to another floor for the br and just chilled for like half an hour (and security came to find us lmfaooo but ended up just leaving) and i was feeling odd and out of body and too aware of how i looked and it was just not great i was like we're the only bitches serving cunt here... um. anywho. so like later theres a slow dance and roommate is dancing with this other girl i only know from instagram till this point and i suppose if i was really feeling myself i could have tried to make a move but i was not. once again. vile vibes in this place. like i dont mean to be a pussy i typically would be much more charming and fun if i wanted to flirt and kinda felt the vibe from them but i was not really enjoying myself LMAO
then some more of the friend group shows up at the end and sam's like 'drama is actively going down' and im like Wuhhhh the fuck and i feel like a few of them r looking at me and i was just like get me OUT of here but for some fuck ass reason was still like nooooo we should go over and have pizza w sam and them. forgive me for thinking they had like frozen pizza or smth and i could get some free food out of this no we had to sit there and wait for dominos or whatever
AND THE MOST ANNOOOOOOOOOOOYING AWFUL TERRIBLE GROSS MEN YOUVE EVER MET SAT THERE AND JOINED THE BRIEF SMOKE CIRCLE AND THEN WERE JUST THERE AND LIKE YOU COULD JUST FEEL THEM TAKING UP SPACE AND US 'GIRLS' WERE MADE TO FEEL SO SMALL ON THE FUCKING COUCH I WAS SOOOOOOOO TIRED. had to get a sweater cause i felt so uncomfortable. girl i really was only there in case i could have a saving grace moment with roommate im so serious. well and for chloe but otherwise me and lydia shoulda been outta there
literally chloe was so excited to show our little video to people and sam cut us off from getting there to show us the fucking fidget spinner game he has on his tv. girl get out! oh my fucking god. finally lydias like Cool anyway so - like sams misogyny jumped out in previously unprecedented ways. it was bad. these boys were truly making me want to kill myself im sorry like it was so bad i have curated my experience so as to be away from that for so long it was really jarring. and what you need to understand about sam is that he's almost died twice and kind of has a funny little gender vibe going on and so for a while now yeah we've gotten along through silly odd things we relate through but holy shit....... that was so offputting i cant even wrap my brain around it
also sam very much walked me into like yaoi-fying him and his best friend and then was like haha noooo why r u calling us gay ur so weird bitch just fuck him already im tired and also dont care.. hes so attention seeking and not used to um not being the center of attention. sorry! oopsies anyway so
so then im like ew like i kinda need to reassess um. the people im around. and again cant stress enough how gross and judged and just kinda old i felt surrounded by these ppl even tho theyre all like within a year of age? and like roommate still seems maybe cool but since we didnt actually talk and they were off w the other roommate/other ppl i cant help but associate them w the odd vibes but like. honestly idk i might just try to uh slide into their dms rlly casually. bc. well idk how the friend group is fracturing and it wouldnt surprise me if they were annoyed with sam esp living with him but obv i dont really know. but again let me stress this friend group has been friends since their freshman year like what r yall doing yeah u do need to break up....
so i figure since they're hot (and kinda tiny i cant tell if they're shorter than me or just right around my height) (but also they kind of scared me by giving Instagram face while posing for a pic last night i cant do any more people giving off dorian gray rn. but i was also under the influence so um that didnt help) i could just yeah be brave see how it goes and worst case scenario it's not a vibe yk. and best case scenario i get to hang w them and teko. teko so gives francis. anyway
OH also sam and the friends insisted on listening to this ai generated… thing like idk guys i think i was in hell fr
also had several men yell out of their cars at me and staring at me as we walked to the bus stop :/ so men really do ruin everything btw
um. so. that was the night! thx for reading if u did. i am excited to be around other fun silly cool queer people god bless fuck these people
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luci-z-wont-shut-up · 19 days
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Episode 2
Bro snow in the desert is not actually that wierd
Bro. Bro u srsly need to rethink ur tourism program like what the fuck. FREE RADON FOR EVERYONE
I'm sorry but as soon as he said "it changes colors" I immediately envisioned a fuckin. Caramelldansen cloud XD
OH SO IT KILLS PPL. O K A Y .
Bro if literally Existing in Nightvale is so dangerous, how does the population stay afloat. At all.
Sounds like just a normal day in the post office tbh. Also Racist Magic Guy is starting to grow on me. His oblivious stupidity and self-sure incompetence have captivated me.
Honestly a floating cat in the men's bathroom sounds like the least abnormal thing so far. Cats are just Like That™️.
"This message was brought to you by Coca-Cola" yeah that tracks X'D
"Because all of us are normal" bombastic side eye. Criminal offensive side eye
Ah so the secret Boy Scout cult has finally achieved immorality. Good to know. Just another Tuesday ig. Also d a r k s c o u t XD
WAIT "Sign-up is automatic and random" um wat. Hi what. Does. Does this perchance have anything to do with the Ominous Helicopters
This man has *clearly* never been a father. Or had siblings. Or cousins. Ever. Maybe *don't* bring children near the Caramelldansen Cloud of Carrion?
...oh so they just have straight up dragons. Ok. Dragons who commit insurance fraud? *throws hands up* why not
"McDaniels was pulled over for speeding last night" UM SIR how big was that car?!? Actually ykw nvm it prolly just had a pocket dimension or amthn this is fuckin Nightvale why am I trying to use logic
Okay #1. Secret Dragon Society that's actually Not That Secret is kinda cool, #2. WTF DO YOU MEAN STOP SIGN IMMUNITY. like don't get me wrong I *understand the temptation* but also why would you allow dom3thing so profoundly stupid and unsafe as a r e w a r d for
... for being an Alert Citizen. Ok. Ok I guess I can kinda see where they're coming from. Maybe. [Didn't sleep well last night and I'm tired so sorry if my commentary's getting lackluster]
Also stamp system for being compliant with the secret police. Yeah that's not sus at allllll
Bro I wish I could schedule my workplace to be Unknowable some days. Dot Day sounds... ominous, for a number of reasons but more so their implications than anything actually ominous, yk?
[I need sleep]
Bro I would NOT pay $5 for a music lesson like that, let alone $50
"Bake sale proceeds go to blood space war" okay invader zim
"Wednesday has been cancelled due to a scheduling error" XD honestly w my terrible sense of time that just sounds like a normal thing to me
Tfw a your perfectly good ice cream outing is inturupted by a dead lion dropping from the sky
[Okay I'm gonna come back and finish listening and writing this later I keep nodding off]
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ambassadorquark · 3 years
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Epic Divorce Man Corellon Larethian
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eponymous-rose · 3 years
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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E133 (April 13, 2021)
(Little distracted tonight! Please excuse any and all omissions.)
Tonight’s guests on Good Morning Quebec are Marisha Ray and Travis Willingham!
How are Beau and Fjord feeling about their leadership responsibilities among the Nein? Marisha: “Beau has always admired Fjord and respected his ability to speak like an adult. It does feel like-- are Beau and Fjord the only adults in the room?” Travis points out Caduceus and Caleb’s leadership as well. “In that conversation, at least, just because I want it to be a tiny bit meta, a lot of it’s just mindset. Fjord knows that Beau is a world-breaker, can kick that ass, and the idea that part of the focus would be diverted towards how can we get out here, it was feeling a little bit more like we’re done for rather than we can do this. It was his way of doing the old coach reminder of stop thinking of the ways you’re going to get out of this and start thinking of the ways you’re going to dominate this.” Marisha mentions that Beau and Travis are kind of the two who aren’t saying goodbyes, and yet they’re two of the only ones who just have the Nein. “Even Caleb was allowed to say goodbye to his cat! We don’t even have that. It’s just the Nein. They are the ultimate goodbyes for us, if it comes to that. But hopefully it won’t come to that.” Travis: “There’s a certain drive that comes with not having wrapped it up in a pretty bow.”
On Fjord’s decision to have the Rangers engage: “Yeah, that one stings. I was suffering from the good ol’ regurts almost as soon as it happens. I realized it was just Essek and Fjord, and he was just asking me, and boy there were a lot of horseshit RP things going around my head.” He kept in mind that the captain has to be decisive and focus on his people. “I in no way thought of Dagon at all. Fuck, did I send Dagon to his death? Did that headstrong dude go, nah, I’ll do my own thing and get out of there? I hadn’t really experienced that kind of instant regret in a gameplay situation yet. But in leadership moments, or when you have to make a decision like that, sometimes it’s important to take a fucking minute and think about what you’re doing. Even in D&D. I wish I had taken a moment to say, how far away are they? If you engage them from afar, can you slow them down long enough? Set an ambush if you can, but at least be at max.”
On Beau’s meditation attempt that ended in contact with Lucien: “I think I know exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to put another fuckin’ eye somewhere on me. I was remembering Keyleth putting her hand in the spinning black orb of death under the Ziggurat and I rolled a natural twenty.” Travis asks if she thinks she and Caleb are “next up in the queue” now that so many of the Tombtakers are dead. “Yeah. I’m gonna get turned.” Travis: “I’ll kill you real good, Beau. I’ll take Caleb first because he made me promise, but I’ll get you good, too.”
On Fjord now having more information about Vandren: “I love it. I feel like such a fuckin’ moron. It never occurred to me for one second that a shipwrecked person that survived would have maybe just wound up on the nearest island. Nope. Didn’t even bother to do the Castaway grid and check the nearest body of land. I’m a fuckin’ terrible D&D player.” Fjord washed up extremely far away from the wreck. “I love that he’s there. I cannot wait to go find him and have a conversation. I just don’t know which will come first: going to Darktow and confronting Sabien or going to see Vanden. But both of those things are on the list, for sure. Just for closure, I mean, damn.” Brian asks if Fjord is okay with Jester having reached out. “Yeah, totally. Fjord is a big dummy in a lot of ways.” He mentions that Fjord has a lot of ideas in his head about what it means to “be a man” that keeps him from asking for help when he needs it. “When Jester did that, it just reaffirmed his feelings for her and how she feels for him. It’ll take those kind of people in his life to help him along to the things that he wants when he’s too stupid or shy to acknowledge it himself.”
How about that alliance with Essek? Marisha: “Here’s the thing. Beau wasn’t like, ooh, allying with Trent, that’s icky because of moral reasons. It’s not that. The more allies, the better in this moment. Teaming up with Magneto kind of situation. But Beau’s whole concern was is this going to distract you from the overall mission. I couldn’t imagine walking alongside someone who had just tortured me in the way that Trent has. We spent so many episodes watching Caleb have these post-traumatic flashes of when he lit his family on fire. Caleb’s a shotgun, he’s such a good damage-dealer, and if he can’t cope with it. That was Beau’s concern.” Travis: “And just to go along with your Magneto reference, Essek is one powerful person. Trent brings the acolytes. But we recognize that if we stop the Tombtakers and Lucien then we probably have to stop Trent and the Vollstruckers. But I wanted to open it to Caleb, because we gotta face that motherfucker at some point.”
Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Yasha! (krisjaded on Instagram, photography by adambenfer on Instagram)
On Beau’s plan to put a possible eavesdropper off their trail at Pumat’s: “I mean, everything is a long shot.” Taliesin suggested the idea. “I said Darktow because I thought, hey, if he tries to follow us to Darktow, he’ll probably get murdered. He’ll never make it back. We have no idea. It could have been completely transparent, or maybe he’ll be stupid enough to actually try it.”
Fan Art of the Week: a lovely Caduceus! (by arcanum.dice on Instagram)
How’s the relationship with Yasha been going? “It’s so new! And fresh and weird, and she’s trying to remember to be like, oh, that’s right! You’re my girlfriend! I owe you some attention, that’s right. It’s nice to have somebody. We were talking about not really having anyone to say goodbye to in this round of goodbyes, Beau is looking to the future and those relationships are keeping her afloat.”
On seeing more of Aeor, looking forward to it? Travis: “I really want them dead first. If collections of explorers and expeditions from the Cerberus Assembly and the Dynasty have turned up stuff they don’t know what to do with yet, what the fuck are a bunch of chuckle-dicks like us going to do with it?” They’re interested in a distant sort of way - there are bigger issues at hand.
Travis mentions that he’s never been quite so emotionally invested in the game before and notes that was at the root of his competitive attitude at the end of the last episode. “The lines were so blurred in that way. It’s just a testament to the never-ending learning process that comes from this game that I underestimated my entire life.”
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deniigi · 3 years
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A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)
I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious
Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.
(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)
Title: in the plains of Zeffo
Summary:
“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.
“Concurred,” Din said.
“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.
“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.
“Din,” Karren whined.
“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.
(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)
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There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.
Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.
Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.
Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.
Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.
He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.
The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.
They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.
Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.
Bojzka had other plans.
It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.
Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.
None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.
The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.
When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.
Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.
So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.
Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.
“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”
Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.
“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”
“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”
“Q-u-o—”
“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”
“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”
Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.
‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.
“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”
“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”
“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”
Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.
Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.
“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”
“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”
Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.
“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.
“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”
Bojzka processed this.
“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.
“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”
Bojzka backtracked like a champ.
“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”
“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”
Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.
“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”
Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.
“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”
 --
Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.
He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.
She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.
She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.
When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.
She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.
That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.
He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.
He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.
He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.
Never too old to be ignored, though.
“Goraaaaaan.”
“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”
He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.
The kid’s name was Karren.
He and Boba were now best friends.
“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”
“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”
“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”
Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.
“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”
Oh?
“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.
“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”
“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”
“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”
Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.
“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.
Karren frowned and chewed a lip.
“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”
Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.
“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.
“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.
Fennec beamed.
“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.
“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”
Yep.
It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.
“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.
“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”
“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.
Karran cocked his head at her.
“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.
Bless him.
“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”
“Is Din in trouble?”
“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”
The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.
Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.
“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.
The kid lit up.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”
Well, fuck. That explained a lot.
“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.
Karren shrugged.
“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”
Awww.
“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.
Karren’s frown eased up finally.
“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”
Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”
“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.
Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.
“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”
What did Boba think?
Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.
 ---
Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.  
“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”
“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.
Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.
“What’s neutral for?”
“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.
The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.
“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”
“Jam?” Karren asked him.
Hm.
Punch it?
“Punch what?”
The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?
“Rock?”
“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”
There we go. Onward march then.
 ---
An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.
“There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.
The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.
The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.
“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”
Bless him.
“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”
Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.
“Buir,” Karren pleaded.
“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”
“NO.”
Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.
“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.
“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.
“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”
Din’s shoulders dropped.
“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”
“BUT YOU COULD BE.”
Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.
“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.
“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”
“Promise,” Karren demanded.
“Ehn.”
“Din, promise.”
“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”
“Bring them. All of them.”
“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”
“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.
Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.
“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”
Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.
“I don’t like him,” he told Din.
“Concurred,” Din said.
“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.
“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.
“Din,” Karren whined.
“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.
“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”
Boba missed that kid already.
 --------
Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.
“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”
“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.
“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”
Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.
“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”
Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.
“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.
Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.
“She is not looking to marry,” he said.
“What, so you speak for her now?”
“She is not looking to marry.”
“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”
Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.
“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.
“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”
No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.
“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”
Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.
“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.
Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.
“Eegang is—” Din started.
“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”
“Eegang—”
“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”
Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.
Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.
A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.
“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.
The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.
“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.
“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.
“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.
“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.
“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”
Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.
“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”
“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”
 --------
Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.
Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.
Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.
Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.
Din thought about that.
He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.
And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.
 -----------
Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.
“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”
The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.
“Where did you find him?” he asked.
“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.
“He’s kinda cute.”
“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”
“Are you a droid or somethin’?”
“Please give—”
“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”
“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”
Bojzka jerked.
“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”
Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.
“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.
 -----------
Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.
No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.
“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.
“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.
“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.
Eegang winced.
“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”
“Me,” Din said without hesitation.
“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”
“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.
“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.
“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.
“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”
Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.
“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”
“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”
“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”
Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.
“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”
Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.
“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”
Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.
“A what?” Skywalker asked.
 -------
Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.
Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.
Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.
“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”
Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.
An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.
 -----------
Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.
She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.
To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.
She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.
Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.
 -------
It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.
The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.
Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.
His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.
He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.
Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.
 -----
In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.
Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.
The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.
“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.
Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.
“That’s a fun trick,” he said.
“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”
“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”
“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”
“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.
Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.
“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.
Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.
“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.
“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.
“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”
Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.
“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”
Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.
“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.
“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.
“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”
And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.
 -------
Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.
Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.
She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.
She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.
“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”
 --------
Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.
Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.
Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.
Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.
Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’
Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.
Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.
He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.
 ----------
After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.
‘To talk,’ she said.
Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.
Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.
“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.
She gave him two naughty fingers.
Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.
 ---------
It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.
Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.
Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.
Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.
Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.
Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.
Din tilted his head.
“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.
Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.
“Sotra,” Din greeted.
“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”
This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.
“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.
“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”
“Just hay?” Din asked.
“And goats,” Sotra said.
Ah.
“We raise goats now?” Din asked.
“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”
“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”
Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.
“Hi,” she said.
“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.
Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.
“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.
“DIN.”
“Shhhh.”
“RELEASE M—mmf.”
“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”
Din chuckled.
“Hey, Samo,” he said.
Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.
“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”
“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”
Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.
This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.
These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.
“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”
“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”
“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”
“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.
“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”
“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.
“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”
“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.
“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.
The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.
People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.
Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.
“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”
“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.
Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.
“You got in,” he deadpanned.
“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”
And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.
Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.
Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.
“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”
“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”
Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.
 ------
“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.
“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”
Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.
Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.
Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.
“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.
Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.
“Tool gnome,” she said.
No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.
“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.
The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.
“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.
“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.
“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”
“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”
Din cringed.
“I—”
“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”
Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.
“I hear you,” he said.
“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”
“We did not,” Din said.
“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”
Din sighed.
“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”
“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”
Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.
“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.
“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”
“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.
 ----------
Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.
 ---------
The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.
The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.
Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.
He knocked.
“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.
Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.
“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”
“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”
Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.
It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.
“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.
Din’s brain stuttered.
“Uh?” he said.
Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.
“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”
“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”
“They’re hideous,” Karren said.
“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”
Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.
“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”
“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”
“Children.”
And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.
“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”
Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.
“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”
Bojzka beamed.
“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”
Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.
“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”
“But—” Shimmol started.
“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”
“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”
Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  
The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.
“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”
Din pointed even more insistently.
“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”
 --------
The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.
“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”
“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.
“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”
Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.
“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”
Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.
“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”
Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.
“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”
“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.
“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”
“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”
“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”
“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.
The Armorer waited.
“Buir,” Din corrected.
“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”
Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.
“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.
The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.
“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”
 -----------
Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.
In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.
Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.
The kids made a break for it.
  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.
Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.
Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.
One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.
“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.
“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.
Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.
“Djarin, come here,” he said.
 -------------
Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.
“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.
“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.
“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.
“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”
“Jhuvac.”
“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.
“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”
Welp.
“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.
“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”
What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.
“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.
Jhuvac glanced back at him.
“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.
Boba lifted a brow.
“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.
“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”
 ---------
The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.
Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.
He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?
Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.
Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.
Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.
 ----------
In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.
Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.
“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.
It left the glove wet and empty.
“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.
“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”
Gotcha.
“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”
More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.
“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.
“Who?”
“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.
“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.
Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.
“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”
“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”
“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”
“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”
“I could be.”
“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”
“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”
“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”
“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.
He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.
“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.
The name alone sent the group into titters.
“Naseem was so nice.”
“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”
“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”
“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”
“Same.”
“Same.”
“Same.”
“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.
“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”
“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.
“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.
“There is only one Eegang.”
“Girl, we know.”
There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.
“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”
Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.
“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.
“With a covert?”
No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’
“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”
It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.
“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”
All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.
“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”
“Bullshit.”
“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”
“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”
Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.
“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.
There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.
“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”
The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.
“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”
“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.
“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”
“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”
“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.
Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.
“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.
At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.
“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.
 ------
Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.
It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.
Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.
Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.
The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.
Boba appreciated the save.
He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.
“YOU STUPID BOY.”
There it was.
The children bustled and whispered.
“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”
Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.
While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.
 --------
Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.
“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.
“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”
“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.
She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.
“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”
“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.
“We shall not,” the Armorer said.
 ---------
Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.
Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.
He did and crossed his legs right back.
“So?” she asked.
“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”
Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.
“Surprising,” she said.
“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”
“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.
“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”
“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.
There was a long pause.
“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.
“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”
“Unicorns,” Kryze said.
“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”
“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”
That was no fun.
“Why is Fennec so smug?”
Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.
174 notes · View notes
jaggedwolf · 3 years
Text
air support, we need you (or: tscosi 2x09)
some bomb dropping, ofc, spoilers below duh
same game, top three things i had feelings ‘bout in reverse order
3. time skip time! Everyone could use a bit of a breather, even if it can’t live up to Arkady’s goat farm dreams
I thought all the planet assignments made sense, even if the completionist in me wanted it to differ more from the split that had already happened this season
ok ok the shipper in me was 50-50 but we’ll address that later
2. my man park!! is back!!! 
Showing up with an anti-aircraft missile launcher as a wedding gift. I kept joking that Park would keep up his finale trend of showing up as a surprise being cool (as cool as Park can be anw), and thought it wouldn’t happen till it did!
and him also quietly saying the defector wasn’t Shelly....Park...are you going to talk about this...
narrowly avoided extended crew singing for the third time, will he keep up this success rate?
I would take a mini-episode that just followed Park in the second half of the season (Park: I am an independent man who needs no crew)
1. Arkady attacking Krejjh because she thinks they’re an enemy, AND then McCabe pulling a gun on her to make sure she didn’t run away. Bro. Bro, that shit was a direct hit to the id. Do I even have words for how good that was
Knowing what was about to happen as soon as Arkady said “You” in that tone of voice, ugh
Krejjh saying Arkady instead of First Mate Patel in desperation, and then brushing it off with a :D after
But god, McCabe. They’ve been so compelling this season, and yeah, maybe they’re approaching everything like a nail with the hammer they’ve got that shoots bullets, but the point is, it fuckin works 
Arkady buys the threat (the promise of her crew’s safety?) more than she buys Krejjh’s reassurances 
(though reading the transcript, Krejjh specifically telling Arkady “Science Officer Liu will never forgive you”, not “forgive us”, is excellent too)
“the only authority figures yet to disappoint me” / “I’m not an authority figure” / “you don’t get to decide that” is just like. embedded in my mind. just McCabe going no, you don’t get to run verbally either.
Do you ever think about how Arkady and McCabe had like, different kinds of fucked up childhoods compared to the rest of the crew. Like obviously McCabe ending up an agent so young and the stuff about their family suggests a pretty secure background, but it feels like the IGR and Dwarnian war starting when they were 12 gives them a kind of cynicism that meshes well with Arkady’s, in a way that’s distinct from how Arkady and Violet’s morbidness mesh, or Arkady and Sana’s pragmatism
ok more character feels under the cut
don’t scandalize the grandparents
A married man! 
Impressed he made it through the season with no baddies wrecking his oxygen
Always ready to point out that Arkady is actually as much of a nerd as he is
AKA I didn’t realize it was a Mozart reference till he said so. Arkady defies the jock-nerd chart
okay who of Arkady or Krejjh is gonna tell him about MMA fight outside, or did they do a whole team debrief. For Arkady’s sake I’m hoping not the latter, though I guess everyone else would like an explanation for McCabe’s gun-pointing??
likes solving problems without guns, would prefer solving them by FLYING SPACESHIPS 
Krejjh watches McCabe’s gun strategy work on Arkady and goes “do you folks really live like this?? why???”
I do love that their first thought on what to do next is to run a bunch of supplies around, probably between human populations that are going to be a wary at seeing a dwarnian show up. (Eat it, Eejjhgreb)
Kinda wonder if their feelings about getting choked out by their buddy are in fact more complicated than “it’s chill dude, please don’t do something stupid”
The cutest vow
who needs to calm down your crewmates with annoying words when you can just point a gun at them
Seriously where is the human-dwarnian war AU where it lasts longer or happens later where McCabe is the baby sniper posted to Arkady’s unit and they squabble a bunch (and perhaps kiss? When I wrote my third ever ficlet for this fandom never did I anticipate actually being interested in that)
what % of their Mirzakhani choice was thinking “what if Arkady tries to run from the goat farm and no one’s around to point a gun at her” jk jk
Their exclusion of Park from authority figures that didn’t disappoint them is fascinating. Is it that he left hoping for Shelly when it probably wasn’t her, or that he isn’t an authority figure anymore, a combination there of?
Or worst of all, is it that when he didn’t kill Krejjh back in 1x10, that really was a disappointment, no matter how much it might’ve been mixed with relief, and you can’t undo that moment?
What if they and Park talked. But I don’t think Park is going to goat planet, so that seems unlikely.
Their apology to Sana for heightened Martineau security! And Sana reiterating the profound gratefulness bit, gah
mostly read other people’s words and yet sparked consideration of two different OT3s, her power.
you know what, everyone deciding Sana is the best person to read words makes complete sense
There was one specific moment this episode that sent my mind into a tizzy about V/A/S, and it was Arkady going FINE GO ASK THE CAPTAIN THEN at how firm Violet was that Tripathi would be the one driving her, not Arkady.
I need you to understand that my V/A/S OT3 opinions are such that my shipping feels were more set off by that than Sana and Violet telling Arkady they were proud of her for choosing goat planet or whatever, like I don’t even know what dynamic was so captured by that argument, rip at Arkady having to be systems apart from them again
Though ofc my heart was buoyed by Sana’s earnest “Kady, you do more than that”, I want these two to go do a job together again, I miss that
To shift gears, I cannot believe “Lenny” started out as Sana being absolutely furious at the people threatening her crew and has ended up a teasing in-joke between her and Park, my Sana/Park shipping feels were very content. (When does Sana learn that Park didn’t get to hear the long list of fake crimes the Rumor crew specifically confessed to Lenny? This must be fixed. Tell him about the diamonds!)
Campbell said “Park, let me show you where we’ve been sleeping.” and my brain went. Wait. This is actually a good OT3?? Park is already unnerved by Sana’s earnest captaining, he should get unnerved by Campbell’s default magnanimity, please consider this
this is also where I point out that all these major characters have very convenient names for indicating ships solely via letters. V/A! B/K! S/P/C! This may solve my ot3 tagging problem...
get off that cotton candy boat, vi
Haha I loved that line from Doc Robinson she’s so no-nonsense, love Violet agreeing to work with her
Doc also said menders and I thought about this post again and also the team split and ahhh
But no, I very much liked Violet gently crushing Arkady’s goat farm dreams, and the two of them awkwardly discussing the very awkward stage things are at while still getting a feel for how the other operates
These nerds are trying and I’m still fond of them
at some point I was gonna make fun of Vi for not being able to drive before realising 1. she probably didn’t want to deprive the others of a vehicle 2. that would be incredibly hypocritical of me
wait does the igr have excellent public transport when they aren’t bombing it i take back every bad thing i’ve said abou-
*ahem* same question about the MMA fight debrief I had for Brian, it would be so funny if the situation was so rushed that like, Arkady+McCabe explain to Brian on the farm and Krejjh has to tackle everyone else
tick, tock, walking bomb, when it stops, nobody knows
arkady is so whumpable, and this show knows it
Redundant, but love how terrified of herself she is after hurting Krejjh and how strangely reassured she is by McCabe’s gun antics. And how she doesn’t like thinking of herself as an authority figure on the ship even though she literally is as First Mate
is ready to monologue about all major life events and the crew frickin knows it
is trying to help herself and stuff, still grumbling about it. in worse shape this season than last - probably all the constant discussion of the inevitable war just kept building stuff up and she kept ignoring it because haha who wants to deal with this prickly mess of a person haha
did i mention she’s the best
hope she gets her full goat farm dream one day, even if it’s not on actual goat farm
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ihopethisendswell · 3 years
Text
Incorrect Quotes because I'm planning on writing something for Alexis and I need to set up.......I mean,
INCORRECT QUOTES PART 4 ~UWU~
Danica: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao
Emmet: What did you do op?
Danica: A MISTAKE
( okay this one is actually from tumblr but I don't actually know the post, so if you do, please tell me so I can credit them!)
________________
Leon: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something?
Sonia: Nope, absolutely not.
Nessa: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through.
Raihan: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.
Piers: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you.
Alexis/ Hop: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome.
( you have no idea how happy I was when I found this. This is the exact thing that comes into my mind when I think of these characters, holy shit)
________________
Naomi: What does 'take out' mean?
Hop: Food.
Kiran: Dating
Marnie: Murder
Levi: IT CAN MEAN ALL THREE IF YOU'RE NOT A COWARD.
______________
Bede: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?
Naomi: >:O language
Hop: Yeah watch your fucking language
Levi: OKAY WHO TAUGHT HOP THE FUCK WORD?
Marnie: 'The fuck word'.
Naomi: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time
Hop: Oh my god she censored it
Kiran: Say fuck, Person F.
Hop: Do it, Person F. Say fuck.
__________________
Alexis: I CAN'T DO IT!
Elliot, laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!
Alexis: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE
Bianca: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT, YOU CAN EITHER GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE WE CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND WE KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT US.
Alexis:
Alexis: I appreciate it,
Alexis: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH-
Alder: Person A-
Alexis: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!
Cheren: Person A we gotta-
Alexis: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.
Alexis : YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What am I willing to put up with today?'
Alexis, motioning to N, Ghetsis, Team Plasma and his dead pokemon: NOT FUCKING THIS
( this could literally be applied to all the protagonist with there respective cast)
______________
Levi: I’ve done a lot of dumb stuff.
Marnie: I witnessed the dumb stuff.
Kirab: I recorded the dumb stuff.
Hop: I joined in on the dumb stuff.
Naomi: I TRIED TO STOP YOU FROM DOING THE DUMB STUFF!!!
_____________
Naomi: Croissants: dropped
Kirahln: Road: works ahead
Levi: BBQ sauce: on my titties
Hop: Shavacado: fre
Marnie: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead
Bede:
Bede, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.
( you can't tell me that's not canon)
______________
*Everyone is standing around the broken coffee maker*
Alexis: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just wanna know.
Everyone:
Milo: ...I did. I broke it.
Alexis: No. No you didn't. Person C?
Raihan: Don't look at me. Look at Person D.
Sonia: What?! I didn't break it.
Raihan: Huh, that's weird. How'd you even know it was broken?
Sonia: Because it's sitting right in front of us and it's broken.
Riahan: Suspicious.
Sonia: No, it's not!
Gordie: If it matters, probably not, but Person F was the last one to use it.
Nessa: Liar! I don't even drink that crap!
Gordie: Oh really? Then what were you doing by the coffee cart earlier?
Nessa: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Person E!
Milo: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, Person A.
Alexis: No! Who broke it!?
Everyone:
Gordie: Person A... Person C's been awfully quiet.
Piers: rEALLY?!
*Everyone starts arguing*
Alexis, being interviewed: I broke it. I burned my hand so I punched it.
Alexis: I predict 10 minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.
Alexis:
Alexis: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.
( I know it would have made sense for one of the elders to do this, or at least Leon, but Alexis would totally do this)
______________
*The squad is having dinner together*
Leon: Raihan, can you pass the salt?
Raihan: *Throws Piers across the table*
They're on a date
______________
Leon, driving Hop and Naomi: So how was your day?
Hop: We almost got surprise adopted!
Leon: What?
Naomi: We almost got kidnapped.
Leon: Oh, okay.
Leon: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!
_____________
This batch of Incorrect Quotes were * chef kiss* wonderful. This has to be my favorite.
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tenacityreturns · 3 years
Text
aokaga fic alert!
plot: in which kagami and aomine talk about beautiful soul by jesse mccartney and also accidentally injure each other ♥  rating: sfw, very domestic, it’s just them being stupid idiots. also i wrote this in one sitting without taking breaks or reading over it so.... haha.... word count: 2098
it all started with two guys, chilling on the sofa, going through each other’s phones. or more specifically, the music apps (and kagami’s photo reel, but don’t tell anyone because aomine had only gone in looking for something of nigou!). whenever kagami encounters a song title that interests him, he’ll click on it and let about ten seconds play before he changes song again. he gets the idea. 
aomine, meanwhile, will let the songs he finds play in full. not because he respects the skip button and doesn’t want to overuse it, but because he doesn’t understand english and it becomes background noise. he’s just chilling now. legs stretched out over the couch and on top of kagami’s knees, his back leans on the armrest and he thinks about dinner instead. how cheeky he’s feeling with directly impact how extravagant his dining requests will be.
“i just took a screenshot,” kagami says blankly, with a light frown on his face.
“why?”
“i wanted to remember this song, it’s kinda cool.”
“but you’re using my---”
“yeah i know that, i forgot.”
aomine half smiles, returning to the screen. dummy. “i’ll send it to you later.”
he decides to lightly hack his boyfriend and dives onto his instagram. looks up his own page, saves a recent selfie, uploads it from kagami’s account. first, he thinks about captioning it something like sexy, or why is this guy so hot??? but decides against it and instead writes ‘i’ll never be as cool as him :(’ haha. good, harmless prank. who’s this girl that liked it immediately, huh! well, they follow each other, but aomine doesn’t like how snooping around like this is making him feel. his blue eyes will raise, taking in the sight of kagami tapping his hand against aomine’s shin in time with the song. his lips are moving, then his shoulders.
is he... sort of singing along? but to which song? he can’t hear the music from his own phone well enough with kagami’s so nearby, but then... he doesn’t recognise this american music... hm. aomine’s fond smile is forced into a smirk for dignity’s sake.
“what are you doing?”
“huh?” kagami blinks, and the tapping stops. “i used to love this song.”
“used to? it’s on your recently heard playlist, dude.”
“it’s a classic.”
“is it? i never heard of it.”
“me and niji sing it all the time, y’know, just around.”
“okay,” this emotion, unlike the snooping guilt, is straight up jealousy. shut up about nijimura already! we get it! you’re friends! “what’s it about?”
“uh,” cogs turn. his lips move again, maybe in time with the song’s lyrics? aomine isn’t sure. “like, he’s singing about not caring about looks. just... you know, wanting the person’s beautiful soul. that’s what it’s called.”
“sappy,” what a loser. this sounds like the kind of thing satsuki would be interested in for sure. aomine gets an instagram notification from kise and ignores it, then remembers his prank and that this is kagami’s phone! he opens the app again and that blond bastard has written a comment: 
‘looks like you need a new password kagamicchi!’ 
and seen right through the prank! dumb luck. except--- here’s tetsu commenting: 
‘you should never leave your phone with untrustworthy people, kagami-kun.’ 
shut the hell up!
but his oblivious rival distracts the on-coming fury by starting to sing. the tapping against his shin has started again, and he’s still scrolling through the playlist and changing songs, but singing this beautiful soul song. in english. show off! ah, he’s got a nice voice though. and he looks real cute sitting there like that. aomine doesn’t suspect kagami of snooping through the photo reel or posting to instagram, in fact: the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. aomine’s head rocks to lean against the back cushions of the sofa. his fond smile returns.
“you singing about me, bakagami?”
of course he’ll find a way to ruin a perfectly nice moment, and a fleeting glimpse of serenity in his boyfriend. kagami doesn’t look away from his phone, but says something in english that sounded like a comeback. aomine presses his heel into kagami’s thigh, but it incites a more genuine flinch that he’d been expecting and both legs are instantly retracted.
“sorry,” aomine blurts, “i forgot about your leg.”
“what about it?” kagami replies breezily in japanese again ( that is, as breezily as possible through gritted teeth ).
hello again, guilt! aomine rests his knees against the couch, peering around them to watch kagami recover. if he doesn’t in five seconds, aomine will--- no, he can’t last that long. he sits up.
“ah, man, can i get you something?”
“i’m fine, it’s just cramping from sitting so long,”
this guy! they’d not been sitting for half an hour yet! he’s just saying that so aomine won’t feel bad... the bastard... of course he’s going to feel bad!
“wipe that look off your face!” kagami exclaims, “now get outta my way so i can lie down.”
he doesn’t look pissed off, or in pain anymore, which is something. god, wouldn’t it just be easier if kagami could tell him when his half-hearted grumpy statements are genuine or when they’re just him speaking and sounding angry because it’s how he talks? 
aomine rolls himself off the sofa. “is your leg okay?” 
“don’t worry about it,” the redhead returns to aomine’s phone but extends his arm off the sofa. an invitation to join him? but can’t he just say that he isn’t mad right now? ah, look! now he’s glaring at him! “daiki. are you gonna make me say it?”
“say what?”
kagami crunches forward and the arm, still extended, reaches for aomine’s hand. of course he’ll accept the gesture. one second, they’re holding hands ( safe, comfortable, in understanding ), and the next, aomine is falling onto the couch and acutely aware of making sure he doesn’t land on the bad leg.
“be careful!” he scolds, arms bracing against the back of the couch, knees safely avoiding kagami’s limbs. “sheesh!”
“i said don’t worry, didn’t i?”
“i dunno, you talk a lot of shit,” how come aomine’s pissed off at him now!
“what!” kagami launches forward and wraps one of his arms around aomine’s waist, dragging him back as he lies down again.
“taiga!” aomine’s still more concerned about the injury.
“shut up about my fuckin’ leg or i’ll snap you like a toothpick!”
ugh! fine, alright. he’ll give in. aomine definitely sends kagami a look. it’s short-lived, though, and he finds a teasing smile. his hand rests on kagami’s massive bicep. “with these muscles? good luck with a real toothpick, buddy.”
“shut the fuck up, i’ll show you!”
there’s no doubt that kagami hadn’t actually intended to show him, but aomine’s back lasts a total of two seconds of a too-tight hug before it cracks. loudly. it didn’t hurt. caught him off guard, yes, makes him have to pause and stretch his back for a second, sure, but it didn’t hurt. kagami’s staring, aomine notices. not immediately apologising despite the sound, he sees! red eyes are wide, lips tightly turned downwards. he’s waiting to check the damage before damage control kicks in.
“you good?”
“is that all you got?”
“sorry about your back,”
aomine lowers down to lie chest-to-chest. he adjusts so that it’s comfortable to lie with his head on kagami’s shoulder. “yep.”
“does it hurt?”
“nope.”
“good,” and just like that, an arm drapes around aomine’s shoulders and they’re lying in almost silence again. kagami’s phone is somewhere on the other end of the sofa, still playing that muffled song. how long does it go on for?! that beautiful whatever conversation feels like it happened hours ago! of course, it had been the singing that started the teasing which sparked the retort which justified a prod, which had hurt and begun this mess. aomine exhales. kagami starts humming along to what aomine has guessed is the chorus.
“what sorta sappy shit is he saying now?” he closes his eyes.
“uh,” kagami begins to translate the lyrics disjointedly, really having to think about it before he says it in japanese.
I don't want another pretty face I don't want just anyone to hold I don't want my love to go to waste I want you and your beautiful soul
“it sounds better in english,” he then explains, “and when jesse sings it.”
“nah,”
“what do you mean nah?”
oops. well, yeah! alright. so aomine likes kagami’s voice better than this jesse person’s! big whoop! “nothing. so you were definitely singing about me, then.”
“yeah, i got sick of dating hot people and decided to settle.”
“shut the fuck up,” aomine’s smiling, knowing full well that kagami’s not dated anybody before. cheeky little shit!
“all the d-cup supermodels in america, you know.”
“i thought i told you to zip it?” he lifts his head. the stare-off doesn’t last long before kagami just straight up kisses him on the cheek! “hey!”
“can i have my phone back?”
he deliberates being difficult. deliberates telling kagami to get it himself, that he doesn’t know where it is, or just no. for fun, mostly. but then, that kiss had been really cute... and kagami had been kind of nice just now, before the bullshit, about translating and stuff... fine. this once, kagami’s off the hook. saved, even. aomine pushes ( carefully! ) up, finds the phone precariously close to the edge of the sofa, and returns to his place. once comfortable, he’ll hand it over. ah! the prank! he’d forgotten about that. kagami gives aomine his phone too and they are once again silent.
huh. that sure is a lot of facebook likes. his last picture wasn’t even that interesting. or was it? aomine opens the app, trying to recall what it could be about. did he get notifications for likes on things he’d shared? aomine rarely shared anything. oh, to be fair, he did share a video of nigou yesterday saying “he’s the only member of seirin i respect”... was it... that?
a picture aomine absolutely did not post is at the top of his own feed. it’s the seirin team picture, but, naturally, aomine had first seen only tetsu and kagami ( the others are definitely there, but not as interesting or important to look at, you know? ). posted twenty minutes ago. captioned: “i apologise for my last post about seirin, i’m a big idiot. they are really cool”
“hey!” aomine lifts his head up again, though this time, with an expression full of accusation. it meets kagami’s equally offended gaze.
“you posted to my instagram!”
“you posted to facebook! that’s worse!”
“no way!”
“yeah way!”
“everyone knew i got hacked, though,” he grins, “you ain’t slick at all.”
“as if i would ever call myself a big idiot, ever. they would instantly know you posted that to facebook. who else thinks seirin is cool?”
“everyone with brains!”
“bullshit!”
“idiot,”
“dumbass,”
aomine set his head down again. so much for trustworthy boyfriend, kagami taiga! though... isn’t it kind of funny that they both, separately, decided to post to each other’s social media? he’s trying hard to be pissed off about it, but the smile is too strong and, once again, he’s smiling over something kagami has done. satsuki comments under that hacked facebook post:
‘two sides of the same coin.’
which, to the unaware, means nothing. in reality, it makes him think of that thing he’s still accidentally in the habit of saying sometimes. the only one who can beat me is me. maybe kagami really is similar to himself after all? however, it’s hard to imagine that they’re that similar. aomine really likes kagami, after all.
“hey, taiga?”
maybe aomine will tell him he loves him again. does it cheapen it if he’d said it yesterday as well?
“yeah?”
“what’s for dinner?”
chicken.
“chicken, i think.”
aomine blinks. that was almost spooky.
“taiga?”
“still here,”
“love you.”
“pfff,” it’s a scoff! “lame.” insulting!”
aomine pinches him gently in the side. it makes him laugh, even if kagami isn’t that ticklish.
“alright! love you too, obviously. i kissed you, didn’t i?”
“yeah, yeah, yeah. chicken sounds good.”
“are you gonna tell me you love chicken, too? who’s the sap now?”
someone explain why such an irritating response would make aomine’s chest swell as much as that kiss on the cheek? yeah, he’s dead sure if he hadn’t been before. he loves you, kagami taiga, you dumbass, so much. of course he does. they’re two sides of the same coin.
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hashtagartistlife · 4 years
Text
and then there were none
Ichigo Kurosaki, college student, gets roped into a dorm game with a long tradition and finds it a little more than he bargained for. Kuchiki Rukia, college student, has never done anything by halves-- and that includes stupid traditional dorm welcoming games. The r.a.s regret the day they placed her knife in his hands.
There was a tumblr post going around that I can no longer find about a welcoming game at an American college dormitory. The basic idea behind it was that everyone in the dorms get a plastic knife with someone else's name on it, and they had to find that person and 'stab' them with the knife (just a simple touch was counted as valid) to 'murder' them. The 'victim' is then out of the game, and they had to hand over their own plastic knife to their 'murderer'. Whoever is on the 'victim's plastic knife was the new victim for the 'murderer'.
My first instinct upon seeing anything vaguely amusing is always 'make it ichiruki'. So here's the fic about it.
(There's two chapters planned, and please don't ask me when the next chapter will be up, it's not high on my priority list. But it WILL come, some day. I don't make it a habit to abandon fic, even though sometimes it seems like I have. Promise.)
___________________________________________________________
So, college dorms were pretty wild. 
For small-town Karakura boy Kurosaki Ichigo, living in a co-ed dorm at a university in America has been nothing short of an eye-opening experience. There are people walking around barefeet in only a towel. Some girl set off the smoke alarm because she was cooking cup noodles in the bathroom at 2am. He’s pretty sure he’s heard his dormmates having sex through the walls on more than one occasion, and the food served at the cafeteria is only edible about half the time. All in all, it’s a little bemusing, but not at all unpleasant, and by the third week of his move he thinks he’s settling in ok. His room is mostly in order, and he’s made at least passing acquaintances with the people on his floor. His English is improving at a frankly astonishing speed, and classes don’t start till next week. He’s figured out which stall in the bathroom spits out the most reliable hot water, and he really thinks he’s got a good handle on this whole ‘dorm living’ thing—
that is, until he gets back to his dorm room one night to find a plastic knife shoved under his door. 
“The fuck…?” he mutters, trying to figure out if this was an American befriending ritual, or maybe someone was just attempting to threaten him (badly)? Did his room look like a trashcan? Did Chad (he thinks that was his name) from room 209 remember what he said about not having a grasp on American cutlery yet and decide to help him in a subtle way? 
He raps on the door next to his, and a muffled voice yells ‘who is it?’
“It’s Kurosaki from 206,” he replies, and the door cracks open to reveal a single brown eye and a strand of auburn hair. 
“Oh, hi, Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue Orihime from 207 was…. an odd girl. She liked putting parsley in her coffee and read astrophysics textbooks for fun. But Ichigo doesn’t remember her ever being this defensive— she’d always been enthusiastic about greeting people, so the way that she refuses to open her door more than an inch is uncharacteristic of her. “What’s wrong?”
“Well, I just got back from the library and there was this knife shoved under my door—”
At this, Inoue screams and slams her door shut; Ichigo is left more than a little bemused. “Inoue? What the hell— it’s only a plastic knife!” 
“I know that, Kurosaki-kun! As if I’m just going to let you win this— but by the way, this is terrible strategy, now I know to avoid you like the plague—”
“Strategy?! Inoue, what the fuck— wait, is this plastic knife meant to mean something? Is this some American etiquette thing? I have no idea what’s going on. Please explain to me what this knife means—”
Inoue opens her door a crack again, and looks at him suspiciously. 
“Wait, so you didn’t hear the murder announcement at breakfast today?” 
“Murder announcement?! Jesus FUCK, who died—”
“Nobody died, Kurosaki-kun, don’t be overdramatic—”
“AS FAR AS MY ENGLISH SKILLS GO, INOUE, MURDER MEANS SOMEBODY DIED—”
“Wow, you really don’t listen to the breakfast announcements at all, do you?” Inoue sounds supremely unimpressed, but at least she opens the door a bit further; except what the hell is she only wearing a towel—?!
“Inoue why the fuck are you only wearing a towel—”
Inoue waves her hand like that’s a negligible detail. “Just got out of the shower, but also murder strategy. You’re immune if you’re naked, and some of the second years recommended this. I’m in this to win, Kurosaki-kun, there’s a whole year’s supply of cup noodles in this for me—”
“Wait, what? Cup noodles?” That got his attention. Anything that scored him a whole year’s supply of free cup noodles was okay in his book. Questionable towel-wearing included. “Now you really gotta explain what’s going on.” 
“I should leave you to rot, one less person to compete against for me.” Inoue purses her lips. “But you were the first one to pour a bucket of water on that fire I started last week, so fine, I’ll let you in on the murder details.” 
“Not a sentence I thought I’d ever hear in my life, but cheers, America,” Ichigo mutters. 
“So basically, murder’s a game that the whole dorm plays every year,” Inoue starts explaining, and Ichigo’s still trying to get over the weirdness of the word murder being used so casually— “and everyone gets these plastic knives with someone’s name written on them, and the idea is you have to stab that person with the knife and ‘’’kill’’’ them. Then you get their knife, and you just keep killing people and collecting knives until you’re the last person left! Hmm, there were a couple of rules, you can’t kill someone in the dining room or their own rooms, and you’re immune if you’re naked, but I think that was it? Anyway. So yeah! That’s what’s going on here!” 
Ichigo squints at his knife in the half-dark of the corridor that, for some reason, has had all its lights screwed out. “Ok, that’s…. Great, I suppose? What happens if I don’t know who the person on my knife is?”
“Then you find out, Kurosaki-kun! This game was ostensibly devised so that we make friends, you know.”
“There are no friends when it comes to a year’s free supply of cup noodles,” Ichigo says, and Inoue claps her hands. 
“Precisely! You’re getting the hang of it now. Ergo, for the next week, I don’t know you, ok? Good luck!” 
Inoue slams her door shut, and Ichigo shuffles back to his room, feeling slightly more enlightened than before. 
But still— 
“Who the hell is Rukia Kuchiki?”
__________________________________________________________
By the second week of Murder, Ichigo’s seen enough naked butts to last him a lifetime. It seems that voluntary nakedness is a vastly preferable fate for many than losing a shot at a year’s supply of free cup noodles, and honestly if that doesn’t sum up the average college student mindset Ichigo doesn’t know what does. (He’d probably be a lot more judgemental about it, though, if he hadn’t spent at least a few hours earnestly contemplating the strategy himself.) 
Thankfully, he and Chad have an alliance of sorts that makes him wearing a towel round the place redundant. He’d enlisted the giant’s help in identifying his would-be target, and after ascertaining that he wasn’t the name on Chad’s knife either (Chad had one Asano Keigo as his victim, Ichigo only knows him as that guy who swallowed a whole tablespoon of cinnamon powder on a dare), the two of them had agreed to watch the other’s back. Chad was set to pull off his first attack tomorrow, but Ichigo still had no clue who or where Rukia Kuchiki was. 
Part of the problem was that the dorm was so friggin’ huge; there were four wings, each with five floors, and each floor had ten rooms. That was 200 potential students he had to parse through to find his victim, and it wasn’t exactly like he could go around asking people if they knew her. Murder had amped hostility on campus up by 300%, and almost nobody stopped for idle chatter anymore.
Whoever had devised this as a way of promoting friendliness and unity on campus was a giant fuckin’ moron. 
“Still no word on Kuchiki?” Chad asks, after another day of paranoia and stalking Asano to make sure the plan goes off without a hitch, and Ichigo shakes his head. 
“Are they even real at this stage? Are we sure I haven’t been given someone who doesn’t exist?” 
“Ghost student?” 
“Fuckin’ potentially? Who the fuck knows with America.”
Chad hides a smile behind his rickety old guitar and starts tuning. “I’ll ask around my bandmates tomorrow, if you’d like.” 
“Naw, s’alright. I don’t want word to get out that I’m looking for them. What kinda giant flashing beacon that says HEY, I’M YOUR POTENTIAL MURDERER, right?” 
“If you say so.” 
“I do.” Because dammit all, Ichigo’s serious about this thing. A whole year’s supply of cup noodles is no joking matter. Speaking of which, he wonders how Inoue is doing with her murders…
_______________________________________________________________
Inoue, as it turns out, is doing swimmingly. While Ichigo has done little more than sit around and twiddle his thumbs, Inoue has already racked up an impressive collection of plastic knives— three, she informs him that night, while cheerfully throwing him a celebratory can of leek soda (Ichigo gingerly sets it down behind her sofa when she's not looking). She was making good headway on her next victim, as well, and if all went according to plan she'd have her fourth knife tomorrow morning—
“But, you know, Kurosaki-kun,” she muses, sipping on her own can of beetroot soda (where did she get these concoctions from!?), “You're awfully cavalier about this whole thing. For all you know, you could be my next victim,but here you are, sitting on my couch. Or do you just not care about cup noodles?”
He snorts. “If you ever got ahold of my knife, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead before we even got to have this conversation.”
“True,” she concedes— credit where credit is due. “So nobody’s popped up to try to kill you yet?”
“Nope,” he replies, popping the p a little. Honestly, that was the only thing making him feel better about his complete inability to murder anyone— the fact that whoever had his knife was having just as much difficulty tracking him down. One week in, and he'd not seen hide nor hair of this Rukia Kuchiki person, and, big dorm or not, her (her? Ichigo assumes it's a girl, though Rukia is very unusual for a Japanese name) elusiveness is getting to be extremely impressive. “But Chad is watching my back for me anyway. I'm covered.”
“Hmm.” Inoue purses her lips. “That's a lot of faith in someone you've only known, for, what, three weeks?”
“Chad is trustworthy,” Ichigo says firmly. He stands and stretches up to the ceiling, stifling a yawn. “And speaking of Chad, I better get to bed. He's ambushing Asano tomorrow, I told him I'd be there for backup.”
Inoue waves. “Good luck to Sado-kun, then. I’m gonna stay up a bit to refine my own dastardly plans.”
He shakes his head and opens the door, peering out into the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. He and Inoue were literally next door neighbours, but you couldn't be too careful these days. “When you win this thing I'm gonna be expecting free noodles from you occasionally. Remember I stopped you from burning down the whole dorms last week.”
“I'll consider it.”
“‘Night, then.”
“Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun. Dream of Rukia Kuchiki tonight!”
“At this stage,” Ichigo mutters, as he slips back into his room, “anything to help me find out who the hell she is.”
_______________________________________________________
Drastic times call for drastic measures. The next morning, after a successful ambush on Asano (Chad is now +1 plastic knife; his new victim is called Yammy Llargo), Ichigo tracks down someone he'd been avoiding ever since his move to America and claps a hand on her shoulder. 
“Hey.” 
Arisawa Tatsuki whirls around and body-slams him into the ground. “Who the fuck do you think you— Ichigo?”
He winces. “Hi.”
Tatsuki puts her hands on her hips and does not offer him any help getting up. “Oh, so you're talking to me now?”
“I just said hi, didn't I?”
“You know, you're such a fucking asshole, did it ever occur in your pathetic little brain to apologise—”
“I'm sorry,” Ichigo mutters sullenly. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was also going to college in America, I'm sorry you found out only when you bumped into me at the dorm welcoming party, it's just that we had that whole farewell party for you and we had that touching goodbye and, look it's just awkward that I got a second round admissions letter the very next day, it's like saying bye to a friend and then finding out you're walking the same way to the carpark, ok, it’s embarrassing—”
“Oh my god, you drama queen. Were you ever planning on telling me? Ever? Your best friend since childhood?”
“... I might’ve planned to tell you at the beginning of the next semester by pretending I was on exchange,” he admits. Tatsuki throws her hands up in the air. 
“You were going to avoid me for a whole semester?!”
“Look, I didn't know I’d end up in the same dorm as you, ok? It's a big campus!”
“Un-be-lievable,” she says, turning on a heel and walking away from him. “You know what, keep ignoring me. Don’t hang out around here. I don’t want your incredible loser vibes accidentally rubbing off—” 
“I said sorry, didn’t I? Wait, wait, I had something to ask you!” 
“Sorry doesn’t pay my bills, Ichigo!” 
Ichigo catches up to her and falls into stride. “You don’t even pay bills! You’re on a full scholarship!”
Tatsuki manages a smug smile. “If you’re so jealous, maybe you should have kept up with karate.”
Ichigo grumbles. “Yeah, right, like I had a chance at a physical education scholarship with you in the same dojo.” 
“I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging my superiority—!”
“You beat my ass continuously from when we were six to sixteen, I threw away any pride I had a long damn time ago.” He makes a face at the memory, then shakes his head to refocus. “Anyway, this isn’t why I was here. Listen, have you heard of anyone around here called Rukia Kuchiki—?”
Tatsuki cocks her head to the side at that, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Kuchiki…? Name sounds familiar. Why?”
Ichigo feels his heart speed up in his chest. “What, really? Where did you hear it? Do you know her?” 
And now she was grinning again and— oh, no, Ichigo does not like the look of that smile. “Why do you want to know?” she asks, and the question is laden with suggestion. Ichigo flushes. 
“None of your damn busi— look, it’s not what you think—”
“Aw, my little mama’s boy Ichigo is all grown up, I remember when you used to go crying to your mom for a scraped knee and now you’re chasing after women—” 
“It’s for murder, you absolute pain in the butt! She’s my target!”
Tatsuki bursts out laughing, hearty peals of laughter bouncing off the courtyard walls. “Alright, alright, I get you. I was just teasing, Ichigo, geez. Anyway, the name sounds familiar, but that doesn’t mean I know her. I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.”
Ichigo deflates as quickly as he’d been riled up. “Are you serious right now—?”
“Hey, you can talk, mister ‘I’m-really-bad-at-remembering-names-and-faces! And yeah, I’m serious. I don’t have a stake in murder anymore. I got killed two days in.”
Ok, that surprises him. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What, really? Who the hell did you in?”
“Some girl named Orihime Inoue,” she grumbles, kicking a nearby rock. “Tae-kwon-do black belt, apparently??? She doesn’t even look the type!” 
Ichigo makes a noise of sympathy and understanding. He should have guessed.
“Anyway, now I’m roped into helping her. So I don’t think I’d be able to tell you about Rukia Kuchiki, even if I’d known any more about her. Victims who are murdered have to help their murderer, and all.”
Ichigo frowns. “Wait, those are the rules?”
“That’s what Inoue said.” 
“............ I am about 95% sure that those were not part of murder rules.”
There’s a short silence between the two as they process this.
“...... scary girl,” Tatsuki finally says, in a grudgingly admiring tone.
“I’ll say.” 
The two of them stop their brisk walk in front of a huge pair of doors emblazoned with the words GYM, and Tatsuki waves him off. “Anyway, I gotta go train now. Any further questions before I go?”
Ichigo thinks a bit. “Yeah, why drama queen? Since I’m a guy, shouldn’t it be drama king?”
“Do I look like a linguist? You always scored better than I did at this stupid language. Take it up with whoever your hero was, Willy Shakealot or something?”
“Shakespeare,” he says sharply. “And Shakespeare wasn’t a linguist. In fact, I’m pretty sure linguists really hate him. He made up a lot of weird words and shit.”
“He did? Huh. Didn’t know you were allowed to do that.” 
“You’re not, Shakespeare just gave zero fucks.” Ichigo shrugs and takes a half-step back, raising his hand in a goodbye salute. “Why else do you think he was my hero?”
Tatsuki rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You’re still a loser.” 
“And you’re a bitch. Let me know if you remember anything about Kuchiki.”
“Only if we get to go halves on the cup noodles.” 
“I’ll think about it.”
“Then I’ll think about it, too.” 
That was probably the best he was going to get out of her. “Later, then.”
“If you can bear the embarrassment of us meeting again despite already having said goodbye, then sure.”
Ichigo shakes his head and lets her have that parting riposte. He hadn’t won a single match, verbal or physical, against Tatsuki since they’d been in diapers; he figures, what with the way his luck was going lately, that he wasn’t about to start now. 
__________________________________________________________
Just as Ichigo walks away, a tiny girl brushes past him on her way to the gym. Her black hair falls short and sleek, tickling her jawline and the nape of her neck, and the clean scent of cucumber and mint follows in her wake. She jostles him a little, bumping into his elbow, but Ichigo hardly notices the slight press of her body against his, small and light as she is. She mutters a hasty apology, and disappears into the building before he can formulate a reply. 
Ichigo shrugs and goes on his merry way. 
_______________________________________________________
The third week of murder brings about a calamitous change in the game as Ichigo knows it, due to several factors:
Orihime Inoue kills not one, not two, but three people in quick succession;
Someone finally stages an attack on him, but runs away without having completed the deed, and
Chad dies.
Not literally, of course, but Ichigo has to admit, the figurative loss still hits him pretty damn hard. Chad takes it as stoically as ever, with a shrug and twitch of his eyebrow, and goes back to working on music for his band. 
“Does anything faze you?” Ichigo wonders, after Chad hands his knife over to Inoue (because of course it was Inoue who took him out. Of course). 
“Puppies.”
“Fair enough.” 
“Kittens, too.” 
“... Right.”
“And birds. And rabbits. And small children—”
“So basically, you’re a sucker for anything cute?”
Chad shrugs again, which Ichigo takes as a yes. He crumples up his soda can and lobs it into the bin. 
“You were attacked today, too. Aren’t you worried?”
Ichigo considers it. “A bit, yeah. Sucks that you got taken out of the game. But you can still watch my back when you can, right? I’ll go halves on the noodles with you.” 
Chad nods. “When I can. I might be busier with my band soon, though.” 
“Understandable. I’ll try and keep myself alive in the meantime. At least I know who’s aiming for me, now. Neru? Nel?”
“Neliel Tu Odelschwancke.” 
Ichigo stares. “How the hell do you remember that?”
“She’s in my music theory class. And she has green hair. She’s not hard to miss.”
“Well, good. Should make it easier to see her coming.”
Chad smiles. “Your hair isn’t exactly hard to miss, either.” 
“Aw, shut up. I take back what I said about the noodles.” 
They sit in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of Chad tuning his guitar the only thing between them. Eventually, Chad breaks the ice. 
“And Kuchiki?”
Ichigo huffs a dry laugh. “No fuckin’ clue who or where she is. I’ve even been asking around, now that a lot of people have been dropped from the game by dying. But nobody seems to know who she is, even though everyone says her name sounds familiar. It’s driving me up the goddamn wall.”
“When I first heard the name, I thought that too.”
“What, that it sounds like a name that’s going to drive me up the wall?”
“No, that it sounds familiar.”
At this point, Ichigo is more tired than exasperated. “Yeah, s’what everyone says. Whatever. I’ll either find her or I won’t, right? No point getting annoyed over it. Better just focus on staying alive, because I swear to god if I die before finding out who she is I’ll be pissed.”
“You better hope,” Chad says gravely, “that Inoue doesn’t get her hands on your knife, then.” 
“You, me, and the entire dorm population, mate.” 
________________________________________________________
Ichigo drops by Inoue’s room that evening, just to check he isn’t next on her list. He’s lucky— he’s not. But some poor fucker by the name of Uryuu Ishida is.
“I waited outside his room all day and he didn’t even exit once!” Inoue’s saying, brandishing the knife with his name on it like a conductor directing Beethoven’s Ninth. “What kind of— of social recluse does that?!”
“Damn,” Ichigo replies, ignoring the fact that he did exactly that for days on end during the summer holidays, rereading The Compleat Works of Shakespeare in English and Japanese. “Sounds like a loser.”
“Apparently he’s like— the dorm cryptid,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Nobody’s— nobody’s really seen him in the flesh. They’re not sure he even exists. They think he’s second-year pre-med and that he was valedictorian of his grade last year, but nobody knows for sure.”
“Inoue, how did you manage to find out all this in the span of a day?” 
She looks at him like he’s insane. “I, uh, talked to people?”
“I talk to people too! But nobody knows who Rukia Kuchiki is. Nobody. Zilch. Zip. Nada. At this point I’m about 98% sure she doesn’t actually exist.”
Inoue sighs pityingly. “Kurosaki-kun, you’ve been talking to students, haven’t you?”
Ichigo’s confused. “Who else would I talk to?”
Inoue just puts a finger to her lips. “Can’t tell you. Trade secret. But really, Kurosaki-kun. There are much easier ways of going about this game, you know.” 
“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me, when you won’t tell me,” he grumbles. He takes another look at the name on her knife— Uryuu Ishida, may he rest in peace— and thanks his lucky stars that it isn’t him on there. “Anyway, I better be off. Good luck with the new guy. Not that you’ll need it.” 
“Good luck with Rukia Kuchiki, because you’ll definitely need it.” 
Hell, did everyone make a secret pact today to take the mickey out of him? Ichigo’s too tired to argue, so he just leaves Inoue to her planning and calls it a night. Maybe he’ll have better luck tomorrow.
____________________________________________________________
It takes Ichigo a few seconds to remember who she is, he’s been so tired lately. 
Green hair, he thinks, absentmindedly, before he remembers his conversation with Chad yesterday and yelps, scooting back a few metres. 
“You— Neliel?”
“That’s me!” His would-be murderer is bright and vivacious, and way too perky for this hour of the morning. Aside from the curious green hair, she’s also got a scar between her eyes and a reddish— birthmark? Tattoo? Ichigo doesn’t know— across the bridge of her nose. “Morning, Ichigo!”
Ichigo’s already halfway across the courtyard by the time she stops him. “Wait! Wait! I’m not here to kill you this morning!”
“Yeah right!” he yells back. “I’m not dying before I find out who the hell Rukia Kuchiki is! Try another morning!” 
“You idiot, I’m already dead! Check the morning lists if you don’t believe me!”
Ichigo stops and whips out his smartphone. “You stay right there,” he says, glaring, and Neliel complies, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. He scrolls through the dorm noticeboard, and, sure enough, there is her name: one of the last people to be murdered last night. 
“See? I don’t lie,” she says, reproachful, and Ichigo shoves his phone back into his pocket and approaches her cautiously. 
“What do you want?” 
Neliel shrugs. “I just thought I’d warn you about your new potential murderer? Thought that might be good manners, and all. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but, well. Your new murderer’s…… yeah.”
“My new murderer’s… what?” 
She looks intensely uncomfortable at this. “He’s. Well. He’s…. He’s not a friend, per se, but I’ve known him since we were little and I feel a bit responsible for him— uh, he’s a bit rough sometimes, but he won’t actually kill you. I think. Look, just keep your eyes peeled, ok? Anyway, enough of this depressing talk in the morning. Who’s Rukia Kuchiki? Why are you so keen on meeting her?”
Wow, that was so transparent a topic change that Ichigo’s almost impressed. “No, no, go back to my murderer, what were you saying about him?”
“— so, Rukia Kuchiki, huh, cool name, sounds kinda familiar, wonder where I’ve heard it before—”
“Neliel. You were talking about my new murderer and actual murder in the same breath. This does not give me a lot of reassurance, you feel?”
“—no, wait, actually, Rukia Kuchiki,” she mutters, her brow furrowing. Then her expression clears, and she looks up at him with a bright smile. “Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia—”
And just as that happens, the lockdown alarms go off. 
_______________________________________________________
The loudspeaker in the middle of the courtyard bursts into life with a crackle of static. 
“Attention all residents. This is not a drill. Please make your way to the nearest lockdown location in an orderly fashion. Attention all residents…”
By the second round of the announcement, both of them manage to unfreeze; Neliel curses and starts to turn away, but Ichigo grabs onto her wrist. 
“Oh shit— I have to go find Donddochakka and Pesche—”
“Wait— Rukia. What were you about to say about Rukia?”
She shakes his restraining hand off with ease. “I’ll tell you later! I have to go find my friends!” 
“No, goddammit! Tell me now! It won’t take you that long!” Ichigo yells, but she’s already disappeared into the throng of people. Ichigo kicks a nearby rock and consults his phone to find his nearest lockdown location— the gym, apparently. He joins the crowd moving slowly in that direction, mind still grappling with Neliel’s last words.
Rukia Kuchiki? Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia-
Dia? Who the hell was Dia?
But he’d have to deal with that later; he walks into the gym and spots Tatsuki, waving at him from a corner with Inoue. He makes his way towards them. 
“—n’t believe that he still won’t come out of his room, who does he think he is— there are safety regulations in place—” Inoue is saying, fingers curled around the knife that still says Uryuu Ishida. Tatsuki attempts to placate her with a long-suffering expression. 
“Maybe he’d already left before you came— hi, Ichigo.”
“Hello, Kurosaki-kun! And ridiculous— I was there at 6 a.m. in the morning. What sort of self-respecting college student wakes up before then?”
“6 a.m.?! Orihime, that’s. That’s stalking—”
“Stalking’s not stalking if it’s done in the name of free cup noodles—” 
“Stalking is always stalking! God, whatever, we’re continuing this another time. Anyway, Ichigo, did you hear? Some nutjob got onto campus with an actual knife.” 
Ichigo flinches. “What? Jesus. I hope Chad’s ok. Where’d you hear that from?”
“From the r.a. over there.” Tatsuki points with a chin, and indeed, several r.a.s are in deep discussion, all of them with a serious look on their face. “They’re gonna make an announcement about it soon. Apparently it’s a scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans. There’s police cars arriving, shit’s crazy.” 
“I’ll say.” At least it was a knife and not a gun, Ichigo thinks, toying idly with his own plastic knife. He halfheartedly scans the crowd, looking for any unfamiliar faces— surprisingly, he finds that he knows most of them already, by sight if not by name. He wonders if any of them are Rukia Kuchiki, and finds himself hoping that, wherever she was, she was somewhere safe. 
It’d be a bit of a downer if she was actually murdered before he managed to get around to it. 
The gym doors open again to let some of the stragglers in, and Ichigo allows his attention to be turned by the motely crew that walk in: a tall, thin man who is built rather like a stick insect, a hulking guy who looks about as wide as he’s tall, and a smaller, scrawny dude who is wearing nothing but a towel as a fundoshi around his waist (goddammit, Ichigo thought that tactic had died out by the first week). And, almost buried by the mass of bodies around her, a head full of green hair. 
Ichigo blinks, and then he starts pushing through the crowd to get to her. 
“Hey. HEY! NELIEL! WE GOTTA CONTINUE OUR CONVERSATION FROM EARLIER!”
Neliel looks up in his direction, and frantically starts mouthing no at him. Ichigo doesn’t give a shit. He’s going to find out who Rukia Kuchiki is, and he’s going to find out now.
“Don’t give me that crap! You said you’d tell me later! Well, it’s later now, so out with it—”
“No, I swear to god, Ichigo, not now—”
“Ichigo?” The stick insect dude suddenly looks viciously interested, and Neliel claps a hand over her mouth. “As in, Ichigo Kurosaki?”
Neliel shakes her head. Ichigo glares at stick insect dude. 
“If I am, who the fuck are you?”
Nel buries her face in her hands, and stick insect dude smiles— and shit, can people even smile that wide? Ichigo feels a chill run down his spine. 
“Your death,” stick insect dude says, and he lunges. 
Scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans.
Ichigo sees the glint of a knife held in his hands, and suddenly realises he’s going to die—
“No!”
That is, until a short, black-haired blur shoots out from the crowd and jumps in front of the knife meant for him. 
It sinks in to the hilt, and Ichigo watches the girl’s eyes widen in shock with a horror that robs him of his own voice. 
________________________________________________________
Both girl and assailant crumple to the ground, and Ichigo’s frantic with worry; he reaches the girl first, hoists her up onto his lap, expecting blood. She was so small; what the hell was she thinking, jumping out in front of him?! She coughs, great big hacking things that he wouldn’t expect from someone her size, and Ichigo holds her around her shoulders, worried out of his mind. 
“Are you ok? Hold on— where did he stab you? Are you bleeding—”
In response, the girl wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and lunges at the felled assailant. 
“You missed, you cowardly shitstain, I don’t know what you’re doing on a campus but you’re going to rot in jail for this—” 
“Young lady—! Enough! Back away and let the cops deal with this—”
“Nnoitra! I told you to leave that stupid knife behind, you idiot—”
“Ow! OW! Don’t just fucking watch, Nel, get this crazy woman off me, what the fuck—” 
“ENOUGH!” The r.a.’s have made their way over by now, and manage to separate the two brawling figures; stick insect dude is being held back by Nel and her two other friends, while the girl is being restrained by an r.a. Ichigo sits on the floor between them, feeling like he just missed something. 
“Wait, hang on, what’s— what just happened— didn’t you get stabbed?” he asks the girl, who is looking very un-stabbed. She glares at stick insect dude. 
“He missed,” she spits, and stick insect dude howls in indignation. 
“I did not miss!” he hisses, and throws a crumpled plastic knife onto the ground. “I had him! I would have had him straight in the gut if it hadn’t been for you jumping in for your boyfriend!!! The fuck, dude! This is sabotage! What have you got against me winning cup noodles?!”
Ichigo stares at the plastic knife bearing his name, crushed like an empty aluminium drink can, and slowly starts piecing the incident together. 
“Wait— so you're—”
“And now I've lost the element of surprise. You scrawny little bitch,” Nnoitra snaps, and Ichigo thinks, a little wildly, that he had no business going around calling anyone else scrawny. He eyes the limp black hair and dirty white hoodie of his assailant and attempts to make sense of the chaos around him. 
“You’re— you had my knife—?”
Nnoitra rolls his eyes. “What, can’t you see? You impaired or some shit?” 
“Oh my god, Nnoitra,” Neliel groans. “Can you keep your big fat mouth shut for half a second—”
“Oh,” comes a small sound from the black-haired girl, and Ichigo turns to see her slowly flushing crimson. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Nnoitra mocks, before Neliel smacks him in the head. “Ow! Nel, you bitch, she is clearly the one in the wrong here, would you knock it off—”
“Well, what the hell was I supposed to think?!” the girl demands, now completely red but with an indignant expression on her face. “You matched the description for the armed intruder perfectly! Not to mention, who plays Murder like they're actually trying to kill someone?!”
“This is why I was trying to warn you,” Nel says to Ichigo in an exasperated aside. “And those are just his last set of clean clothes.”
There's a short silence as everyone digests her words, Ichigo and the girl both eyeing Nnoitra’s hoodie like they seriously doubted Nel’s definition of ‘clean’.
The girl clears her throat and speaks for all of them. “Gross.”
Nnoitra flings himself against Nel’s restraint. “You bitch, I'll fucking cut you up—”
“Enough!” an adult finally makes their way onto the scene, and everyone looks at the harried professor with varying levels of relief. The girl, in particular, lights up at the sight of him. 
“Professor Ukitake—!”
“What’s going on here?” he asks in a tired sort of way, and the r.a.s hasten to answer him. 
“A minor altercation— you know our dorm tradition, Murder—”
“Ah, that damn game,” he mutters, looking extremely distracted. His gaze sweeps over all of them, assessing the situation. “Nobody’s actually hurt, then?”
“No sir,” the girl answers, prompt. The professor nods at her, before turning to the r.a.s for the full story. By now, the police have made it into the evacuation area as well; the three parties convene for a minute or two, discussing the details in hushed voices, before they all turn to Nnoitra and Nel.
“In any case, Mr. Gilga,” Professor Ukitake says apologetically, “although it may be coincidental, it is true that you fit the description for the armed intruder rather perfectly, I’m afraid. The police would like you to accompany them to the station, just for a little while, until the intruder situation is solved. If that’s ok with you—?” 
“Wha— the hell it is! I was just tryna murder Kurosaki over there—” 
The professor winces. “Mr. Gilga….. That’s really not helping your cause there.” 
“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a game—” 
“I told you,” Nel interrupts witheringly. “I told you to leave your damn knife behind, didn’t I? Just go with the officers for now, Nnoitra. It’s just til they catch the real intruder, and quite frankly, I don’t trust you around Ichigo right now.” 
“Don’t be a sore loser, Nel, just because I murdered you last night—” 
Two policemen place a hand each on Nnoitra’s shoulders and escort him out, Nnoitra complaining the whole time but not daring to retaliate. Nel shakes her head and makes an apologetic face in the direction of the smaller girl. “God, I told him… sorry about all this, Di. I might go with him just to make sure he doesn’t get himself arrested… you really alright? Not hurt anywhere?” 
“Who do you think I am?” the girl scoffs. “I’m fine. Never did understand why you’re friends with him, though.”
Nel grimaces. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder that, too. Anyway, I’ll see you later at the gym, we can talk about this then.” 
“Tell your stick insect friend not to lunge at people with knives in the future, whether they’re plastic or not.” 
“Will do. Bye!” with another apologetic half-wave, Neliel and her two other friends take off after Nnoitra. Ichigo, still feeling somewhat bemused by the proceedings, finally turns and manages to get a good look at his…. saviour(?), for lack of a better word. 
She’s short. That’s his first impression, the fact that she is so goddamn short and good lord, she might actually, literally be just half his size, if the way the top of her head only comes up to his chest is any indication. Aside from the height (or lack thereof), she seems fairly nondescript: short black bob, black leggings and a t-shirt with a flannel tied around her waist. She notices him staring and holds out a hand. 
“Diana. We could have met in less embarrassing circumstances, but I guess as first meetings go ‘jumped in front of a knife for you’ isn’t a bad start. You alright?” 
Ichigo takes the proffered hand and is promptly surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Fine. I feel like I should be the one asking you, though. You're the one that got stabbed.”
Diana rolls her eyes. “Please. As if anything wielded by a guy that skinny would ever be able to hurt me.” She grins, all teeth, and whoa, Ichigo may have to reconsider that first assessment of her. He’s suddenly flustered, red dusting the skin over his cheekbones as he tries to come up with a response. She has the bluest eyes he's ever seen. 
Thankfully, the professor from earlier spares him. “Miss Kuchiki!” he calls, and Diana turns— he wants to have a few words with her, it seems, and she gestures to him that she'd be over soon. She turns back to Ichigo to say goodbye. 
“Well, take care, I guess I'll see you around--"
Something clicks in his brain like lightning, and he catches her by the wrist. 
“Wait. Kuchiki—? Like, Kuchiki as in Byakuya Kuchiki Kuchiki? Kuchiki as in the Kuchiki Wing in the Main Library Kuchiki? As in one of the shareholders of our university Kuchiki? That Kuchiki?”
“Shut up, fool, not so loud—!” She snatches her wrist back and looks around worriedly, though by now people’s attentions have moved on from them. She answers him in a resigned tone. “Yes, that Kuchiki. He’s my brother. It's not something I like to advertise.” 
Ichigo’s mind is teeming like a nest of ants. “Why— no, never mind that question. Diana’s not a Japanese name, though--"
“It's my English name, obviously,” she snaps. “If you wanted my full name it is Rukia Kuchiki. Why are you so interested in my name anyway? Shouldn't you at least tell me yours first?”
A slow grin spreads over his face; the kind of grin that Tatsuki had once told him made him look like the supervillain in a bad shounen. He takes a step in closer to her, and Diana— Rukia, irritated, stands her ground. 
His hand slips into his pocket. 
“I'm Ichigo Kurosaki,” he tells her. 
In one fluid motion, he pulls out his own knife and taps her with it on the shoulder. Those blue eyes of hers widen first in disbelief, and then in outrage. 
“You— no. No, you can't possibly— you couldn't!!”
“Nice to meet you, Rukia Kuchiki,” he smirks, flipping the plastic knife over to display her name. 
Rukia closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, like she has a headache coming on. 
Then she opens her eyes, takes a deep breath, and socks him in the face. 
103 notes · View notes
Discord pt 90
[Date: 17/03, 02.33 PM GMT - 17/03, 03.53 PM GMT]
[This conversation was going on in #arg, partly simultaneously to another in #general. The second is referenced later and was posted separately before this one.]  
[Direct continuation of pt 89]
[After Void pointed out the gdoc change, Fetch added another message:]
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[Added was: “Please don’t tell them please don’t tell them please just pretend you never saw this just please.”]
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Void: “nvm may be just my bad internet fucking things up ignore me”
Jack the Observer: “Oh. I see it.
Little sunflower seeds in green and yellow :)”
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[Maxwell: “Where do you see that?”]
Jack the Observer: “Ask fetch, I think. He’s the one who edits the blog”
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Jack the Observer: “But it’s there, if you look.”
Maxwell: “Fetch....”
fetch: “It isn't though?? I'm looking at the doc right now and there's nothing about sunflower seeds”
Jack the Observer: “I can send pictures, fetch.
If you would prefer?”
Maxwell: “i cant find anything”
fetch: “jack. after yesterday do you really wanna push me.”
Jack the Observer: “Yeah, i kind of do, actually
I could
I feel like it’s important and relevant information”
Void: “fetch knows best about what is there just ignore what i said,,,,”
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fetch: “yeah. let's just ignore it.”
Maxwell: “but you all said...seeds”
donti (e): “... fetch please, this is serious.. it could endanger everyone here”
Jack the Observer: “Sunflower seeds :) leaves in yellow and green. You think if i won’t let Max hide it, I’ll let you, Fetch?”
fetch: “jack. drop it. right fucking now with that stupid fucking smile.”
Jack the Observer: “You are, in fact, just as important as Max is.
Unfortunately.
And it’s imperative that we keep all of you safe.”
Maxwell: “that...is one of the nicest things ive heard you say to us....”
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fetch: “i know the doc better than anyone. i know what's there and whats not. if I say there's nothing there then there's nothing there.”
Jack the Observer: “You put it there, Fetch.”
fetch: “there's nothing there.”
Jack the Observer: “ Uh huh. /s”
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jaynoblade: “he's right. there's nothing there. i just looked”
fetch: “im not ignoring anything there's nothing there.”
Jack the Observer: “Jay, what the fuck”
jaynoblade: “genuinely. i just looked. nothing”
donti (e): “hey hey hHEYyyyy chill”
Jack the Observer: “Is it gone — wait”
fetch: “check for yourself, jack”
[Context: Fetch deleted his edits about the seeds.]
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Jack the Observer: “Oh, no i still have it”
fetch: “as i said. there's nothing there.”
Jack the Observer: “I still have it. And i have more pictures if you want to see them.”
donti (e): “... seeds?”
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Maxwell: “thats just an image of a previous thing?”
fetch: “how do i know you aren't just editing shit”
[donti (e): “... seeds?”]
Jack the Observer: “I’m trying to have Fetch tell you first.”
kateza: “Hi good morning what’s going on?”
Mothbo: “Jack saw something no one else did”
[fetch: “how do i know you aren't just editing shit”]
Jack the Observer: “Fetch. You know I don’t lie.”
[Mothbo: “Jack saw something no one else did”]
Jack the Observer: “Haha :)”
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fetch: “but you sure as hell spout a lot of bullshit.
now for the last time. There's nothing. there. Fucking drop it.
please.”
Jack the Observer: “And now instead of knight you sound like Max
Crazy”
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Maxwell: “what?”
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Jack the Observer: ““Oh no, i don’t want to tell them, please i just want to suffer by myself and not accept any help even though I clearly need it, no everyone else is busy, everyone else is stressed, they can’t know please don’t tell them”
That’s what you sound like
And that’s what Fetch sounds like too”
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fetch: “you better watch your fuckin mouth, pal.”
Mothbo: “Jack, that's not going to help them all. I know you're hurt cos of Syd but don't take it out on them.”
Maxwell: “....”
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[Mothbo: “Jack, that's not going to help them all. I know you're hurt cos of Syd but don't take it out on them.”]
Jack the Observer: “I’m not angry, I’m amused. And I’ll admit, slightly frustrated. What is up with these people and their self esteem issues.”
fetch: “what's up with you and your attachment to someone that doesn't exist anymore?”
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Maxwell: “.....fuck off”
Jack the Observer: “If you don’t tell them within the hour ill see you in #img”
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[fetch: “what's up with you and your attachment to someone that doesn't exist anymore?”]
Jack the Observer: “Oh, so you don’t exist when Knight is out? Shut the fuck up”
Maxwell: “i....”
Jack the Observer: “I’m glad you’re not all acting so goody goody and nice talking me anymore. This is refreshing.”
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[People tell Jack and Fetch to stop arguing with each other. That just solved nothing and there’s no time to waste]
fetch: “i don't have the energy to fight anymore. there's nothing in the doc, whatever you have is edited bullshit, end of story.”
Jack the Observer: “Okay, we’re just going to ignore someone purposefully endangering their own health then. Sounds good to me /s”
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[kateza: “I just woke up, I’m assuming something supposedly happened with the doc, I’m assuming the edit history was checked can we please stop fighting I don’t like this”]
Jack the Observer: “I can see something important. I’m being forced to keep imperative information to myself. You can see why I might take issue with this.”
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fetch: “i thought you loved keeping information to yourself. that's what an observer does right. he just takes in information and does nothing with it. he doesn't get involved.”
Jack the Observer: “This is different.”
fetch: “of course it is.
just drop it.”
donti (e): “ah.”
Jack the Observer: “Yeah it fucking is different, Fetch. We fucking need you on this team. We’re meant to just ignore when you’re hurting? We’re meant to ignore when you’re endangering yourself?”
fetch: “i said. drop it.”
Jack the Observer: “Holy fucking shit not everything is about Syd”
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Jack the Observer: “Maybe this is just about you”
fetch: “well maybe I don't want to be paid attention to. i'm not a fucking zoo exhibit. just leave me the fuck alone.”
Jack the Observer: “I don’t know how many times? I have to say this? But if I saw you as nothing more than a “zoo exhibit” i literally wouldn’t care about this at all”
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Void: “fetch, people will learn one way or another. please at least take the chance to tell them yourself?”
Jack the Observer: “Clock is ticking”
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fetch: “there's nothing to tell. im fucking fine.”
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Jack the Observer: “There you go, sounding like Max again”
kateza: “wait, ok, so now fetch supposedly has the buds? Is that’s what’s going on? No one is catchinng me up everyone’s just arguing”
Jack the Observer: ““I’m fine I’m fine” you’re clearly not.”
[kateza: “wait, ok, so now fetch supposedly has the buds? Is that’s what’s going on? No one is catchinng me up everyone’s just arguing”]
Jack the Observer: “I can see something. Fetch isn’t letting me tell anyone.”
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fetch: “well MAYBE I DONT WANT YOUR FUCKING HELP.”
donti (e): “HEEEEY HEY
jacks doing what he can”
fetch: “YOU EVER THINK ABOUT THAT? YOU CANT FUCKING HELP ME.”
Jack the Observer: “...”
fetch: “QUIT TRYING.”
Jack the Observer: “...”
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Jack the Observer: “...
...
that was a bit too loud for me, actually. Ill be in #img in fifty minutes.”
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Jack the Observer: “good luck.”
fetch: “fine. i need a nap anyway.”
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Maxwell: “......”
[People talk about how important it is to share information, especially with how the situation currently is, and that they’d have to work together if they were ever going to resolve anything about this problem. They then note that if this in-fighting continues, more and more people might be dragged into Crown’s court. But then…]
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jaynoblade: “okay, this is somewhat off topic, but.... do we even really know who crown is? because we thought he was ranboo in enderwalk, but then in that one ask he implied that he isn’t”
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Maxwell: “hes something else then....”
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Maxwell: “uh small problem”
donti (e): “prince read the backlog.”
[This refers to the conversation that had been simultaneously going on in #general2.]
A random Spark: “I know...which means Prince probably now knows the deal with the three court members and why they're gone”
kateza: “which means we'll be having another mind wipe probably :/”
LLyr: “D:”
Maxwell: “OH NO OH NO OH NO”
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Maxwell: “i...”
donti (e): “if we had explained it fae would be wiped and then we'd be in trouble.”
Maxwell: “can we tell faem? fae already know....”
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Maxwell: “he only brought up me and fetch....should we tell him about marcus?”
donti (e): “... maybe?”
A random Spark: “It's a good idea to.”
LLyr: “if the dam has already broken, i dont see a reason to keep it hidden. maybe ask marcus what he thinks about it?”
Maxwell: “i wanna say his name...”
donti (e): “you already namedropped him,
go for it
he might as well get the facts.”
kateza: “i don't like this
i don't like where this is going”
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Maxwell: “jack what did you put in images”
Jack the Observer: “What i promised i would.”
donti (e): “fetches entry.”
Maxwell: “hes..oh god”
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Maxwell: “i messed up i messed up i messed up--”
kateza: “no no no
you tried to help max. you did what you thought was right and even if it didn't have the outcome you want you tried to do what was right and that's good of you”
Maxwell: “i made it worse no no no no”
Jack the Observer: “You calm down too.
Panicking isn’t going to help prince.
It’s fine. Let faem remember.”
4 notes · View notes
vanchlo · 3 years
Text
Under The Bed / Chapter Two, “Harry”
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ABOUT: Josie Stephens was having a hard enough time at her mere age of five, having to start Kindergarten and move to a new house. Little did she know that it all would get a lot worse that first night when a monster popped out from under her bed, changing her life forever. Inspired by the 1989 movie, Little Monsters, one of my childhood favorites, I began this story in 2016 and recently fell back in love with it.
->   SERIES MASTERLIST
->   MAIN MASTERLIST
-> READ ON WATTPAD
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WARNINGS: Mild swearing
WORD COUNT: 5.3k words
TAGLIST: IDK HOW TO DO THESE, BUT IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED SO YOU KNOW WHEN A NEW CHAPTER IS POSTED, JUST LET ME KNOW! :)
@berrynarrybanana​
@wotamelonsugar​
SNEAK PEEK OF COURSE ->
"I said, who are you?!"
"Calm down, ya big baby! I came from under yer bed an' I scared ya. Now, what does that big brain ol’ brain of yers tell ya I am?" he replies, and it takes a few seconds before the answer pops into my head.
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THEN
It's not the easiest to remember, but when a monster just happens to pop out from under your bed one night, it's not something that you can forget.
The moving trucks were pulling away from the house. Finally. No longer was the front curb crowded by their orangeneness and height. At last, the few big guys walking in and out of the trucks holding all of our stuff were too. I didn't want to move, and I didn't like the new house. It smelled weird and the staircase was like a mountain that I had to climb every day with my short five year old legs. All of my toys were in boxes that were stacked in my room. Nothing but my new big girl bed, a lamp and Mr. Snuggles, the stuffed duck, took up my scary big room that was all mine. But, boy, were there boxes. There were ones labeled in Mom's scribble, 'Josie's clothes,' and ‘Josie's toys' and 'Josie's books.’ Blah blah blah. 
All of this moving business seemed pretty stupid to me. I liked our old backyard better, and that we didn’t have a staircase I had to struggle to climb too many times a day. Lastly, I moved away from Betsy who lived across the street, and Mollie who lived on the corner. I had nobody to play House with or have tea parties with. I think that was the worst part of moving to this stinky, new house. I had to leave my old friends, which meant that I had no friends at all. Maybe Mr. Snuggles was the only one but he couldn't talk, and tea with only two people is boring. I had a new scary bed and bedroom. A new, big house to get used to. Painting the new, cracked sidewalk with chalk didn't sound like fun. 
I had no friends, and I felt so alone.
/
Dad closes my door behind him and Mom, mumbling one last 'sweet dreams' and a kiss before the creaky door closes. The room is cloaked in darkness, making new sounds I don't like and that scare me. The Scooby Doo night light next to my bed is the only light there is, except for the faint streetlight out the left window. Otherwise, it's pitch black, so much so I can't even see my own hand in front of me, and that's when I know it's bad. Lying there under the new, cold, and scratchy sheets, I stare into the dark trying to fall asleep. Mr. Snuggles' fuzzy yellow head is tucked under my chin, and my pink blankey;s clutched to my chest. The sound of cars outside is a small hum through the window, and I can hear the muffled noise of my parents talking downstairs.
It feels like I've been lying here for hours, making me wonder why Mom said that 'I should be out like a light after how tiring today was’ when I just can't fall asleep. But, I don't know, because I didn’t do much else besides sitting on the rickety swing outside. I sat there with Mr. Snuggles watching Mom, Dad, and the moving men bring stuff into the house. Bug Juice after Bug Juice and a mini bag of Oreos was for lunch. 
After a while, I hear the lights flick off and the bar of yellow light under my door turns to black, their work done for the night. My parents' voices get closer as their steps creak on the stairs and disappear down the hall, and then it's quiet. Too quiet. Shutting my eyes, I take a breath as I hold Mr. Snuggles closer and breathe in his familiar scent. But then there's a small click and when I open my eyes, the nightlight is out. Not soon after that, there's a scuffle and my bed lifts on the one side only to fall back down to the floor with a thud.
My heart is thumping in my chest fast and I'm sinking down into my Hello Kitty covers, pulling them over my head as my nervous breaths leave my mouth loudly. I suddenly hear somebody else breathing and the sound of footsteps. Quickly, I'm pretty sure I'm going to die and Mr. Snuggles is going to die with me. No, not Mr. Snuggles. A pair of hands rips the covers down off of my face, but I keep my eyes squeezed shut.
"Are ya serious, ya think bloody bed covers are gonna keep ya safe now?" a thick slow voice says, one that sounds . . weird. It sounds like a boy, an older one than me, and he says his words all weird. "C'mon now, open yer eyes already."
I shake my head, not knowing why I'm doing it but I do. Mom always says I'm stubborn and don't like to do what I'm asked of, whatever that word means. "Oh my god, just open yer eyes," they groan, and I don't know why, but I do. I hear a loud 'boo!' and a pair of hands shake my shoulders, making me scream but a hand comes over my mouth to stop it. A strong musty smell surrounds me. "Bloody hell, ya gotta pair of lungs on you! Keep it down, will ya? Don' wanna wake yer parents an' have 'em come in here. 'd lose me bloody job an' 'd only make yer life mo’ of a living hell if that happened, I swear t’ it," they mutter, voice high with alarm, and ending in a creepy laugh. His tongue makes a weird sound, but I can't see him. I can only hear him. For a second in the dark, I see two hovering green circles above me that don't go anywhere, and then tiny little blue dots appear out of nowhere.
Breathing hard and fast and trying to protect Mr. Snuggles, I open my mouth and bite down hard on what I think is his hand. It tastes gross, and it's cold. He mutters a loud 'ouch!' and then there's creaky steps, his musty smell going away, but only a litte. "I can' believe ya fuckin’ bit me, ya li'l brat!"
"Who are you?" I nearly shout, words feeling weird as my voice shakes.
"Be quiet, will ya? You'll wake yer parents- how many times do I gotta say it?!"
"T-tell me who you are, now!" I bite back, slowly sitting up and hearing sounds from across my dark room. "A-And what did you do with my nightlight?"
"Ya want it so bad, then here, have it," he says, something scuffing against the ground before suddenly it's back in the wall and it's all lit up. "Yer sumthin', arentcha? God, never knew why you goddamn kids liked some stupid dog that talked, anyways. I bloody hate nightlights, they don't really do anythin', do they?"
"I said, who are you?!"
"Calm down, ya big baby! I came from under yer bed an' I scared ya. Now, what does that big brain ol’ brain of yers tell ya I am?" he replies, and it takes a few seconds before the answer pops into my head. I hug Mr. Snuggles tighter to my body and breathe him in, my eyes growing hot and watery.
"Oh my bloody god, dontchu cry. No, no, no, dontchu fuckin’ cry on me," they say really fast, letting out a loud breath at the end. The tears fall down my cheeks long and hot, Mr. Snuggles taking the brunt of them as I hold onto him for dear life. "Please, I hate it when you lot cry, 's bloomin' annoyin’ an' it hurts me ears . . Yer not s’posed t’ do it ‘til afta I leave, ugh. Please stop yer cryin' already, Josie."
I sniffle and lift my head after a second, trying to find him in the dark, whoever he is. But, I still can't see a thing. I think he's across the room towards my closet, but I don't really know. "H-how do you know my name- who are you? Tell me already!"
"Okay, okay. Will ya ever shut that bloody mouth of yers? 'm uh, well 'm a monsta, if ya hadn't figured that out already. Yer a bright little five year old, figured you'd know that by now," they reply, and then there's footsteps. They're getting louder and, so I think, closer.
"How do you know all this stuff about me?"
"That's not even that much, ya brat. I know loads 'bout ya. Know yer birthday, even what time you were born down t' tha second. Know ya hate spiders and frogs, think they're gross 'cuz they're all slimy an' squishy. Know ya jus' moved from yer old house t' this one t’day, an' that ya think tha basement's reaaaaal scary. Also know that yer scared of unda ya bed, as ya should be, an' that tha biggest thing yer scared of 's tha dark," he replies, and even though I can't see it, I know that my jaw is hanging down. Who is this person- well, monster, and why does he know so much about me? How?
"How d-do you know all that, and why do you know it?"
"'s me job t' know that stuff 'bout you, Josie. I only get sum stuff, y’know, tha stuff that matters t' me an' I need t' know. Now, why would I need t' know what yer scared of if 'm a big scary monsta? I bet ya can answer me that one, Josie Posie," he says, and I gulp loudly. Thinking about it for a second, I peek a look over to my door, or in the direction I think it would be in.
"No, no, dontchu even think 'bout screamin' or yer really not gonn' like me, Josie," he warns as I sniffle. I can taste the strawberry chapstick on my lips as they open and I yell the two words.
"Mommy, Daddy!"
"Ugh, ya've really done it now, Jose. I thought ya'd learn yer lesson, but guess not. Thanks a fuckin' lot," the boy mutters quietly. There's a tickle on my ankle before a scuffle, and my bed rises and dips again. 
The lights click on outside my room. I hear fast pitter--patter before my door flies open, and the light turns on. My mom comes in first in her pink bathrobe, pulling it around herself as she rushes over. Dad’s hot on her tail in a Packers shirt and checkered pajama bottoms.
"What is it, sweetie?" Mom hums as she stops in front of me, her face looking sad as her brown hair is all a mess.
"There was a monster in my room! He came from under my bed, and he was all mean and scary!"
They look at each other before pulling me in for a hug, playing with my hair and giving me kisses on the head.
"Honey, you probably just heard something. It's an old house and it makes noises sometimes, but it's nothing to worry about. You're just fine, there's no monsters under your bed because there's no such things as monsters," my dad says, sitting beside me and putting an arm around me.
Mom wipes my tears away and smoothes back my hair as they shush my worries and calm my mind before helping me back under the covers. There's about five 'no's when I ask if I can sleep with them, Dad looking more upset than Mom about it until they leave my bedroom with another 'goodnight' and a 'sweet dreams.’ The room is silent and still, except for the hovering Scooby Doo head lighting up the floor around it next to me. My eyes stay there as the warm blankets hug me. With Mr. Snuggles and blankey close, I shut my eyes and try to get some sleep, like Mom had said.
They fly open when I hear a sound, and I whimper when my bed moves again.
"Ya think yer a smart one, d’ya, Josie? Ya can’t get ridd’a me that fast, love," the boy murmurs, his footsteps creaking on the wooden floor. "They didn't believe ya, did they?"
A small 'no' comes from me as the blankets surround me in a warm cocoon, but I suddenly don't want to be lying here anymore. I want to sit up and see him, but that thought scares the bejeezus out of me the second I think about it.
"Didn' do a lotta good cryin' fer mummy an' daddy, now did it? Maybe ya should think 'bout that tha next time, an' see how good of an idea it seems."
"What do you want?!" I say, my lips bending into a frown as I pull myself up to face my closet, wishing I could see his face. But again, all that's there are the little blue random dots that seem to be in the shape of a rectangles or something, and the bright green dots.
"'m a monsta, love. Already told ya that, what d’ya think I want?"
"Are you really a monster?" I whine in question, feeling like there's a circus happening in my chest.
"Yeah, sure I am."
"You're not telling me a fib?"
"Nope, promise me black li'l monsta heart," they say, and I take a shaky breath as my heart thumps in my ears. Holding Mr. Snuggles as tight as I can, I swipe my tongue across my dry lips and stare into the darkness. The ceiling fan overheard whirs softly, the only sound in the room besides my loud breathing. "'m not tellin' ya a fib, Josie. Promise ya that. How d’ya think I came out from unda yer bed, anyways?"
"How am I supposed to believe you? I don't know you, and I can't even see what you look like when you're talking to me. Danget, I don't even know your name o-or if ya have one!"
"God, yer a feisty li'l one, arentcha, doll? Take a breath, would ya? I dunno, ya don' hafta believe me I s'pose, 's upta you on that one," he replies, and I only grow more confused, heaving a big breath. "Don' get so bent outta shape over it, 'm just yer monsta an' I scare ya. Yer not s'posed t' know me name, 's jus' how it 's, I reckon. Tha's all t' it, really. Now, if I did me job an' yer all scared outta yer socks an' everythin', 'll be off. Got other li'l tots I gott' scare besides yerself, y’know."
"But-," I chance, learning I was two seconds too late. There's a flick of something moving past the space the Scooby lights up, and my bed moves. e's gone. "No fair!" I shout, falling back onto my pillows with a plop. Tugginig my blankets back up, I mutter annoyances to Mr. Snuggles, picturing him replying and agreeing with me.
Then there's that sound again. Like a shoe against carpet, or something like that because Mom never lets me wear my shoes in the house, so I can't be sure. "Sweet dreams, Josie Posie! Oh, and sleep tight! I hope all the beddy bugs bite. 'll see ya later, ya li'l brat!" the squeaky scary voice says again before there's another scruff and I hear him leave, wherever in the world he came from.
Turning over with a whimper, I pull the covers over my head and shut my eyes, trying to think of happy things like sugar plums and fairies. I try to forget about what just happened, and the fact that I have a monster under my bed- my own scary monster.
/
The next day was unpack this and unpack that. Move this and move that. To make it plain and simple, it was boring, it was hot out, and I didn't want to ‘fill up my new bedroom,’ like Mom and Dad kept saying to try and make it sound fun. But it wasn't. Because I couldn't stop thinking about the night before when that thing came out from under my bed. After awhile it just melted down into a bad dream or something I had imagined, because I'm a kid and that's what kids do, right? I must have dreamt it or made it up. 
"It's looking nice so far, isn't it, Josie?" Mom says, looking around at my room staring to well, look like a bedroom. There's my dresser, and my little table for tea parties with my favorite stuffies sitting on the chairs. Clothes are beginning to get hung up in my closet, the bookcase against the wall just needs some books to make it look better and not so sad, and a nice pink rug sits by my door.
"Yeah, I guess," I say sadly, taking a seat on the purple beanbag in the corner, watching Mom turn towards the door when Dad comes in holding another box. He pushes his combed back blonde hair off of his sweaty forehead, wet patches showing under his armpits as he turns to walk away after setting down another box.
"Hmm, I wonder where we should put this," Mom says quietly to herself, holding an old shoebox of something or other. Taking a few steps, she crouches down to push aside my pink Hello Kitty comforter.
"No, don't!" I say, standing up fast and running over to her.
"Why noyt" she replies, looking at me quickly. I glance to the empty space under my bed, now that she's pushed the fabric to the side. When I see nothing but the dark wooden floor, I no longer worry, but now I'm confused. "You don't still think there's a monster under there, do you?"
"No, but maybe a really scary dust bunny," I joke and she smiles before pushing the stray box under there and standing back up to get working on things, because she'll never believe me, anyways. Dad and her didn't the first time, because who would believe me when I tell them there's a monster under my bed? I don't even know if it was real myself.
After a while, we take a break and all sit under the shade of the tall oak tree in the front yard. A pitcher of lemonade and hot dogs with potato chips is for lunch as we sit at our new picnic table. The hot June sun beats down on us as Mom and Dad quietly talk about where to put the couches and which would look better in different spots. I nibble on a crinkly yellow chip, looking around at the new neighborhood. And I wonder if I'll ever get past the cold fear settling in my stomach about this new house.
/
Mom kisses the top of my head, smoothing my hair back with her hand before disappearing into the hallway where Dad talks to somebody on the phone loudly. The door closes with a squeak and I turn over with a huff. I hold Mr. Snuggles and blankey as close as I can before closing my eyes, willing him to not come back. Please, please, please. Please don't come back, please don't come back. I fall asleep mumbling it under my breath, the Scooby light protecting me from the darkness, like Mom said. But I don't know how much I believe that anymore.
/
"Wake up!" a voice shouts, and I jolt awake to find somebody bouncing on my bed. "Bloody hell, get yer arse up already!" they say again, and as I rub my sleepy crusted eyes, I recognize the voice and how the words sound funny. It's the boy again, and he's back. It's the monster.
"I was sleeping."
"I can see that, but ya aren't anymo' so wake up. Did ya know ya snore? 's bloody annoyin', if ya ask me," he mutters, something hard like his leg not far away when I stretch my own out and touch him. They recoil from the cold sensation and I hug them back to my body.
Taking his words carefully, I reach over slowly to find the smooth metal chain and yank it hard to bathe the room in light. A scream leaves my lips when I lay my eyes on him, and as if things are moving in slow motion, I see his yellow tinged eyes with bright green circles roll into the back of his head. Next thing I know, he's practically lying on top of me with his cold gross hand over my mouth. My hurried words leave my mouth in muffled murmurs as his bad breath fans over me.
"Dontcha know how t' keep quiet, ya brat?" he spits, shaking his head of dirty brown curls, making them move and dislodging hair from around the two small yellow horns poking out of his head. One on each side, but that's just the first of it. "Scared ya, did I? Good tha's me job, ya li'l bugger. Now, if I take me hand off yer mouth are ya gonna promise not t' scream? Told ya last night what'll happen if ya do it again."
I nod my head slowly, taking in every part of him. His round head slowly nods too before he removes his hand from my mouth and sits back, letting me get up too. Crossing my legs, my eyes stay glued to him as he turns his head to I guess look around my room. "Looks like a bloody pink pixie threw up all over yer room, 's a bit much, innit?" he says, playing with his bottom lip as he scans my bedroom. A few boxes still sit there waiting to be unpacked, but for the most part my room is all made up. I swallow, and he looks over at me, his eyes going over me. "Ya forgot how t' speak or summat?"
"Y-You're really a monster . . I'm not just imagining it," I whisper, my words going all kinds of places.
"Sure am, Josie Posie. No point in really lyin' 'bout it, now 's there?" he says, breaking eye contact as he stands up. And I find out quickly that he's tall. Another twelfth thing I've learned about him in the last minute.
He waltzes over to the corner of my room where the tea table sits along with a shelf holding pull out baskets with different toys in each. His long pale fingers wrap around one of the handles and tugs on it, picking a red headed Barbie out and making a disgusted sound before stuffing it back in. "Yer such a girl, arentchu?" he complains, his blue tinted skin not bothering to push the basket back in before moving onto my bookshelf, picking up a light blue and purple book. "How ironic 's it that ya have this book, huh?" Turning to me and flashing the cover at me, I see that it's Monsters Inc. I want nothing more than to go back to sleep, I think.
"What does that word mean?" I say nervously, his movements slow and careful as he flips through the book and tosses it onto the floor carelessly, ending right side up on an open page. Looking back to me, his crazy brown eyebrows go up as he looks at me with his bright green eyes. I realize that's what I saw last night glowing in the dark, his neon eyes. "The word starting with an 'I'."
"'ironic'?" he asks, and I nod as he takes his time walking around inspecting my stuff, picking up Beary Jones and petting his soft brown fur. "It uh, I dunno how t' describe it, really. Means that sumthin's funny in a weird way, I guess."
"Whatever," I say, my head falling onto my pillow as I get back under the toasty warm covers.
"Ya can't go back t' bed yet."
"And how come?"
"Cuz, I haven't scared ya all good yet. I can't go yet 'til I have," he replies, running his hand over Beary Jones' ears before pulling at his red overalls. In a blink he rips his head off and white cotton is falling down onto the floor like snow.
"No, not Beary! Why'd you do that?"
"Would ya shutup already, ya nosy li'l brat? 's just a fake stuffed bear, get over it!" he snarls, flinging it onto the red table. Beary's head sits on the floor sadly, getting squished by his grimy black sneakers as he walks back over to me. I shrink into the covers as he approaches. "I scare ya all good yet, Josie Posie?"
I reply with a soft 'no' but as he gets closer I move back, reaching the other side of my bed until I'm almost falling over the edge. His pale face, a shade of light blue, gets closer and closer to mine. The little blue dots like freckles covering his ghostly skin look like little flattened balls of playdoh before they're gone, shouting a 'boo! My back hits the hard floor. A whimper leaves my lips and I hold my achy elbow as tears well in my eyes and my bottom lip quivers, turning away when he walks around the corner with a laugh.
"Go away!" I yell at him, my voice small and weak and the crying isn't helping.
"Yer such a li'l baby, ya know that?" he smiles, crouching down. A holey black t-shirt clings to his sides amongst his muscly arms covered with black pictures and words. Pants the same color and just as old and beat up are on his legs, but they're tighter.
"I said go away, I don't like you!" I repeat, smushing my face into the fuzzy white rug next to me. Hot tears spill from my eyes and wet my hot face. My heart thuds loudly as I sniffle with each sob, no matter how quiet I try to make them. He begins to say something I think, but I stop him, "No! You're mean and I never asked for a monster, I hate this new house and you're making it worse! I hate you I hate you, go away and never come back!"
"Josie," he says softly, whatever his stupid monster name is. "Hey, look at me."
"Why should I?"
"Cuz I said so, now look at me, you li'l shit," he says angrily, and I pull away my sweaty teary face to look up at his. It's blurry, but it's blue and weird and dirty. Reaching his hand out for a reason I don't know, I look between it and his face before opening my mouth and biting his finger.
"You li’l fucker, ow! Why d’ya keep doin' that, ugh?!" he swears. I get up from the floor and dash out of the room and down the hallway. "Yer really gonn' get it now, Josie! Thought you weren't gonna be too bad, but now, I dunno anymo'." I hear lastly as I turn left down the hallway, and I stop in front of Mommy and Daddy's door. I take one last peek down the hall to my bedroom where the light flows out into the dark hall, hiccups leaving my lips as thoughts bubble around inside of my head.
Wiping my tears away, I change my mind and when I step back into my room, I find his dark, dusty figure with his back to me, picking up something off my dresser. He must have heard me because he turns around and looks me in the eyes only for a second, and then his crazy green eyes fall to the Disney snowglobe in his hand. Little balls of snow fall down onto the castle from in the Magical Kingdom.
"Please don't break it, that's my favorite. I got it from Disney at Christmas time," I cry.
"Won't if ya promise not t' bloody bite me again," he shrugs, looking to me for an answer and when I nod he puts it back. He runs the tip of his finger over Tinker Bell's glittery wing, walking over to my bed and pushing the cover back off of the floor.
"Where are you going?"
"Told ya last night I got other kiddies t' scare, an' if 'm bein' honest, 'm quite sick of you fer tha day, so 'm off," he answers, sticking his long legs under my bed. When I take a step closer, I notice that they've disappeared and it's just the tops of his legs and the rest of him still there. But that doesn't make sense, so much of this doesn't. "Breathe, Josie, 's jus'- 'll be back tomorra, try not t' bite anybody else while 'm gone, sound good?"
"O-Okay," I say slowly, playing with the sleeve of my princess nightgown.
"God, you are such a girl, 's bloody terrifyin'," he says, shaking his head. I open my mouth to say something. "Whatd’ ya want now?"
"You never told m-me your name."
"Well tha's for me t' know an' fer you t' never find out, innit now, Josie Posie?" he smiles, winking one of his green eyes at me. I sigh and throw my hands up, feeling the soreness when my elbow moves and I wince, whining a 'that's not fair, you're never fair!'
"Tone it down, will you?! 's jus' a name, dunno why ya wanna know so bad!"
"Well, if you're gonna be scaring me every night, I want to know."
"My goodness, 'm in fer a load of trouble with you, aren't I?" he shakes his head, looking away and to under my bed where it's just brown wood and the beginning of dust bunnies. Rubbing his big, pointy nose, he lets out a loud breath and I see his wacky eyes once more. "Tha name's Harry. Now, I really best be off. Sweet dreams an' ya betta not hope tha bed bugs bite!" 
There's nothing left but a whisper of his words and a whoosh after he slid under my bed, making me wonder ten new things that I don't know what to think of or what the answer could even be.
With a huff, I wander to the door and find the lightswitch. With a last look to the empty space under my bed, I flick the light off and dash to my bed quickly, even though I know there aren't any monsters under my bed to get me. Well, I can't say that anymore, I think, as I bring Mr. Snuggles back into my arms. And I don't know what to think of that really, and how it should make me feel.
But all I know is that I'm kind of looking forward to bedtime now, and getting to see my monster, Harry. He’s kind of . . what’s the word? 
Cute.
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madhyanas · 4 years
Note
I pronounce it as Yin hhahahah but also um 👉🏼👈🏼 are u going to share your poly fic with the class
i feel inordinately validated w getting an anon ask (also sorry this took so long wow i’m a hoe)
alright see anon i have a love for poly reader fics there’s a whole oberyn x reader x ellaria thing i want to talk about too asjdhgfsjhdgf 
@pettyprocrastination and @concussed-to-pieces really beat the shit out of me with their writing. in a really good way like i adore their poly content. also @wickedlyemma is simultaneously the best and the worst because her tua fics are what got me in this hellhole to begin with mwah
but the one i mentioned on the post you’re talkin about is a diego x fem!reader x lila fic for the umbrella academy. man it lives in my mind rent FREE. holy fuck. ok listen right just humour me for a sec.
this is about 1k lmao it really got away from me
not really what you’d call Good Writing but it’s a blurb that’s vaguely coherent please enjoy
(spoilers for s2)
s2 is where the gang finally find out they’re not the only ones w abilities, right? like they don’t know about the whole ‘43′ but they have an inkling. so: an au where lila STAYS, and after all that shit w the commission, the family gets back to the present and the next hyperfixation is to try and find these other super-powered people. (none of that sparrow academy shit alright - ben’s still hangin around - let me have my self-indulgent au where these kids catch a fuckin break)
———
It’s been a few months. The family takes in Lila as one of their own, but it’s stilted. Like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong space, made to mesh and fit in an image it doesn’t belong to. Everyone’s got their own shit to deal with after the time jump and very little time to make the effort to trust her. Five doesn’t even bother, and Luther’s inclined to agree with him. But that’s okay. They’re like her, in that they’re not normal. They’re all so laughably not normal. It’s so funny she cries. 
But she has Diego. Which is all Lila really cares about at the end of the day. They’re working through things. Things she put him through. Things he needs to let go. Things they need to talk about. Little by little, they make it work. No more secrets, not with each other. They love each other too much for all that pain, all over again.
But that’s family politics and emotional healing aight back to the romance. Listen ok maybe Five does his freaky investigation shit, maybe he digs up whatever records he can find of unnatural births on October 1st, 1989. Maybe he finds one of these unnatural kids and tracks em down to a flower store downtown - closer than any of them could’ve imagined, practically in the Hargreeves’ backyard. The owner is kind, pleasant. Boring, in Five’s words. You don’t seem anything out of the ordinary.
But even with a modest little greenhouse out back, you’re still in the middle of the city. With smoke, fumes, pollution. How are the leaves that healthy? How are the flowers that vibrant? How is it, that in your shop, no plant ever really seems to die? The flourishing life your shop fosters is beautiful, but uncanny. 
And yeah, sick of being treated like a knife in the back waiting to happen, maybe Lila volunteers for recon. To get away for a while. Some part of her is desperate for a mark, itching to get back to what she’s good at. Especially since the last one went... awry. 
Since they won’t trust her to go it solo, Diego gets dragged along as a handler supervisor. Perhaps because he’s the only one they think she won’t harm. Idiots. She’d never, not her boy. Not after the Kennedy clusterfuck. So Diego goes along, and to her surprise he’s actually looking forward to it. He knows the urge to stick to a lead like your life depends on it. He’s been that person before. God, he still is.
A honeymoon, she croons in his ear, and he snorts. His hand sliding into hers brings a grin to her lips and a warmth to her cheeks.
Out of all of them, Lila’s the least recognisable. She’s learnt how to blend in, how to appear innocuous. How not to appear at all. So she slides into the florist’s with ease, just another customer. And maybe the little gardener is cute. You smile at Lila like she couldn’t do anything wrong. You see her as a person, rather than a ticking time bomb. Your face falls meekly as Lila tells you she’s buying flowers for her boyfriend. You look so pretty when you’re flustered, scarcely breathing as Lila traces the smear of soil on your cheek, tucks that errant lock behind your ear. Oh, if only you knew.
Debriefing takes longer and longer as the days go on. Lila tells Diego with giddy excitement how you hum while watering the succulents, smile at the blooming buds like you’re proud of them. How you listen to Lila like she’s the only thing that matters and how your laugh sounds like the first break of spring. And Diego might take some convincing, but he can’t help but feel somewhat enamoured with the gardener. The idea of you, at least.
Falling for your mark. It’s so cliché.
Even so, Lila gets to know you. So does Diego, living vicariously through surreptitious surveillance and Lila’s own love-struck recounts. 
Maybe they break protocol a little. Lila takes you out for coffee, learns your order. Learns that the care you attend to your plants with is applied to just about everything in your life. Including her. Maybe Diego begins to join you, discovering that all the hiding and sneaking around was pointless because the name ‘Diego’ doesn’t mean anything sinister to you. ‘Hargreeves’, though, they don’t mention. Not right now. You’re kind, not stupid, and if you do have the abilities they suspect, then any mention of the mythic family will send you running for the hills.
While Lila’s in the bathroom, Diego throws a light jab. Just to test the waters. Maybe you counter with something quick and cutting, raising a brow. And oh, how his heart flutters once he finds out you have thorns. Diego falls quicker than he realises, your sweet half-smile taking hold of his heart just like Lila’s sharp grin did, way back in ‘63. He decides, then and there, that Five doesn’t need to know about this. None of the others do.
Maybe they break protocol a lot, and show up at the flower shop one day, asking you to sit down. No more secrets, they remember. Not between them, and now, not with you. They tell you a story of cruel parents, superpowers and lonely children. Of death and rage and destruction. Of the apocalypse, which never happened yet apparently did, and how you died, a speck amongst billions. Of falling down a rabbit hole to the 60′s, and falling all the way back again. They tell you who they are, who they think you are, and why they showed up in the first place.
Five definitely doesn’t need to know about this.
It’s... a lot. You need time to process, and they understand. They don’t like it, but Diego’s not Sir Reginald and Lila’s not the Handler. So they leave you be, thinking that’s that. Their florist, yet another mistake made by The Umbrella Academy, left in the dust. You feel confused and betrayed and heartbroken for a long while. Radio silence.
Until things get better. 
You show up at their apartment one evening, weeks later, holding a potted un-sprouted bulb, panting at the doorstep like you ran all the way there. They let you in without a word. You set the flowerpot on the table and god, you talk more than they’ve ever heard from you in one sitting. It’s rambling, not all that eloquent. But they understand what you’re saying, eyes softening at your misguided panic.
And then — shyly, as if they could ever deny you anything — you ask if they want to see. (It takes Diego’s elbow in her side to get Lila’s mind out of the gutter.) You dip your fingers into the soil, frowning gently in concentration. There’s a familiar pins-and-needles sensation in your fingertips, flowing through your nerves and into the moist earth. Absently, you worry if it’ll even work. These two have a tendency to throw you off guard.
But lo and behold, the dormant bulb unfurls before their eyes in a matter of seconds, springing forth a fresh green shoot, and a moment later, a starburst of golden petals. 
A daffodil, bobbing lightly on their coffee table.
———
ugh yeah lmao this got long but that’s the fic idea, anon. thanks for askin :)
and NO the super-powered kids aren’t related - in my mind the hargreeves’ were adopted/raised together and are therefore siblings and THAT’S why they shouldn’t date each other - but diego, lila and reader have no familial connection. at all. i’m not here for any pseudo-incest shit in this fic pls and thank u.
aha look at me writing blurbs for tua fics when i have a wholeass! paz fic! published! and u n f i n i s h e d ! alsdhfgalshdfg now i want to do more someone come scream at me about ezra and oberyn and ellaria and paz and boba and din and any other character under the sun
listen y’all i have a lot of IDEAS for various fics and i also have Zero self control - please ask me about them!!!! fuck it man ask me about anything odds are i’ll fuckin write it!!!!!! i am a desperate hoe!!!! i have no self-respect!!!!
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What the Fandom (actually) thinks about the SPN Finale 15x20!
A short while ago I posted a Quiz  [Which Part of Supernatural Season 16 are you?]  and the post has 27 notes, so I thought barely anyone would have taken this, but it turns out actually a couple people did.  And I´m so glad I did put in one free form question: “Would be please be so kind to sum up the finale in 3 words. (Or 333 if you want to...)”  Because the past days I clicked through the notifications on the quiz, which is kind of tedious, but I could not stop cause what people put in there is a mood, a riot, the pure unfiltered truth, eloquent and outrageous in the best way!   And so I collected the answers and tried to roughly group them. Which you can find under the cut. (If someone that took the quiz wants to be tagged or have the commentary removed please just message me!)  Can you guess what the most common 3 words were? 
 The rare acceptance or praise  not that bad  // Not entirely horrible.  //  satisfaction and closure :D  //  good idea, shaky execution, ultimately fulfilling  // epic love story
Grounded Truth & the well adjusted It was something // well that happened
CW & Network aka. put the blame where it (probably) belongs network fuckery afoot  //  Corporate Fuckery Ahoy!  // network bullshit ruined everything  // fuck the cw // Fuck the CW //  Fuck you cw //  cw ships wincest  //   FUCK ROBERT SINGER  // Greed won
Make some Effort (@show) Lazy //  half-assed fever dream  // feverish dream (nightmare)  // Could be better  // Not comprehensible, stupid, low budget  // How did buckleming do better  // Fuck you, spn writers. Could have done better
Hate Crime  A hate crime // literal hate crime  //  The hate crime //  I only need 2 and it's hate and crime // subtle-but-not hate crime // hatecrime to all Homophobia Call Out Straight Gay Chicken// not gay enough // bad unsexy homophobic // Where's my gay? // horrific hetero nightmare // Homophobic queerbait bullshit // no homo shitshow // Bury your gays // silencing, erasing, ugly  //  Homophobic and incestual  // homophobic disappointing stifd // Character assassination and homophobia //  Stinky, censorship, offensive // Disappointingly heterosexual & bland You need to speak  fandom for that  why lamp wtf //  It’s the turbo hell we were all sent to // Wheres the tapes??? Castiel centric  so no cas?  // So no cas? // Needs more Cas // No Cas, pathetic // where is cas // why no Cas // where was cas //  yo a ti  // where was castiel Bless you I released scripts for a reason
Deserving Better! Damn Right! They deserved better // They deserved better // They deserved better // dean deserved better //  dean deserved better  //  dean deserved better // Dean deserves better  //  destiel deserved better // Destiel deserve better. //  Jensen deserved better  //  dumb , idiotic , horrible and #deanwinchesterdeservedbetter
Trash, Shit  & Garbage aka. The scatological truth FUCK THIS SHIT // Shit shit shit // Shit shit shit // total shit //  Shittiest fucking shit// Total and utter shite. //  Piece of shit // Fuck this shit  //  Complete utter shit //   Fucking pointless shitshow // stupid As all fuck // That was shit.  // A shit show  // what a shitshow // An absolute shitshow // total shit show // a shit show // A shit show //  total shitshow lmao // absolute shit show  // A shit show // Rancid shit show  // i would say it's a shitshow but that's mean to shit // Complete utter shit   // fuck that shit //  fuck that shit //  fuck this shit // Absolute fuckin bullshit // fucked up shit  // Utter shit bro //  Distilled horse shit // Absolute horse shit // Absolute Horseshit. 3. //  Absolute dog crap // Piece of crap // pile of crap // piece of trash // Steaming trash fire // Shit ass garbage   //  Gar ba ge // Fucking trash fire // Absolute garbage fire // A dumpster fire //  piece of trash // unfortunate dumpster fire //  Flaming pile of garbage // disaster dumpster fire  // Unsatifying flaming garbage // Dumpster fire on ice. A mess. Underwhelming. Incomprehensible. Oof // I got 2: dumpster fire // Complete. Fucking. Bullshit.   // Complete utter bullshit // utter gross bullshit // Shit fuck shame // hot mess inside a dumpster fire inside a train wreck
Still won´t read any praise here The worst thing  // a complete disaster // so fucked up //  It was terrible //  it really sucked  //  Man it sucked //  Well that sucked  //  Fucking sucked bro  //  it fucking sucked  // it sucked ass it was fucked // Sucked major ass.  // It sucked ass // very not good :(  //  it was bad :(  // Absolutely fucking awful  // The very worst //  bad. bad. wincest...  // Bad bad bad  //  bad poop ending // bad funni yuck // horrendous nightmare fuel  //   A fucking nightmare // worst thing i’ve never seen in my life //  an absolute atrocity  // a fucking disaster  it was terrible // an absolute disgrace  //  Just so awful // Really Fucking Bad // Literally the worst // Real real bad  //  Bad stupid bad  // uhh very bad  // crap bad lacking //  horrible rude worst // awful  //  bad // bad  //  Crap //  wack Ugh. // No  // UGH // Bad, messy, dumb   // Bad terrible worst ugh  // Oof my dude  // deep deep sigh 9000+ epic failure  //  Small dick energy
Demands!  Suck my dick   // Not it motherfucker
Thinking of all of us! We all lost
Summed up in 3 Words               Bitch. Fucker. Ass.    //  Death age heaven  // Dead, married, forgotten  // Sam Dead Car  // Dead, Sad, & Car.  // Dead, Sad, Car  // Slow shambling death  //  burns in hell // Absurd, wtf, huh  //  fucking odoriferous stench.
Not Canon & Fake  &  Insulting insulting. not canon  // Unsatisfying, degrading, noncanonical // Disgusting Insulting Fake // sad, bullshit, not-a-finale // Embarrassing, ridiculous, insulting // disheartening, harmful, horrible // Terrible. Disgusting. Hilarious  //                 Incomplete. Unkind. Nonsensical.  // Traumatising, stupid, horrendous  // horrible incomplete unsuccessful  // Disgusting, disrespectful, unreal
Disappointments & Complaints very big disappointment  //  disappointing, disrespectful, baffling  // An utter disappointment // disappointment of the decade  //  Fruitless, regressive, insulting, disturbing, and all-in-all just disappointing //  the complete unpackage  // supernatural finale clusterfuck  // WRONG, Horrible, Offensive //  poo rehash bad  // Unnecessary character deaths  Betrayal & Inconsistency   Stupid awful depressing poorly written inconsistent betrayal  // Boring betrayal // inconsistent, monotonous mess  //  inconsistent disappointing mess
Denial! Aka. The wise!  Finale? What finale? //   What finale ?  // what finale? //  Finale? What finale? Ohhhh yeah 15x18 was great // you mean 15x18?  // Did not happen.  // What the...what?? // What finale ??? // um.........what finale? // finale? what finale. // what finale? it didn't air yet. last episode that aired was 15x18 pffft  //  what finale :) //  Does Not Exist  //  It never happened  //   That didn’t happen // No, i refuse, there was a finale??? // what finale?? // It doesn't exist  // it doesn't exist // Weird of season 15 to end with 19 episodes and an open ending // what finale? the show got canceled after 15x18  // Finale? What finale? Supernatural isn’t over. I’m not in denial, you are //  an atrocity i've erased from my memory //  I Can't See Suddenly. I Don't Know// Don’t know her.        
Consequences & Emotions (I hope you´re all okay, have a hug!) Oh my god it was awful. Hated it. Made me reactivate in the fandom. And obses over that show AGAIN. Oh, and yeah, yeeted me to a place so dark that I got me some new scars.  // Ymmmmm, fuck the finale. It got me spiraling down back to depression and self harm. Didn't make sence. Badly written. Badly executed (well, except acting) // Never wanted to claw my own face off more than watching that heap of garbage // fuckin hated it // My heart hurts  // Stupid unsatisfying pain  //  slap inthe face // I am unhinged  // Im throwing up  //  I am sad //  i went feral  //  Broke my heart  // hurt my feelings  / I wanna die // i hate it <3  // I hated it  // I hate it //  Extreme rage inducing  // Trauma, It was   // Oh. Oh dear. // Absolute soul crushing, sucked sunshine and joy out of this world and any other possible reality this abomination exists in. It hurt so much I actually disassociated and had a real life horrible week. Luckily anger finally swept in and fan fiction ultimately saved the day. // AWFUL. HARMFUL. DEPRESSING. I HATE IT // Waste of time //  My villain origin story // Destroyed rewatch value
This is unfortunately too true  disturbingly pro-suicide   //   odd lacking empty
Valid Questions:  why’d’ya do that // Why why why
WTF?! What the …  “The popular 3” What The Fuck // What the fuck// what the fuck // What the fuck. // what the fuck // What the fuck //  What the fuck //  What the fuck. //  What the fuck // What. The. Fuck.  //   What The Fuck  //  What the fuck // what the fuck // what the fuck // What the fuck // What the fuck // What the fuck?! // What. The. Fuck. // What the fuck?!  // what. the. fuck. (was that????) // What the actual fuck? // 1. What 2. The 3. Fuck //  'what the fuck'  // The actual fuck? //  What the heck, //// What the heck //  What the heck // what the hell // What the hell? // what the hell
Narative & Character Development That was pointless // Failure of storytelling //  15 years of story and character development down the fucking drain // Fuck character arcs, no free will // Assassination of character  // Lost character development // character development is dead // disjointed alien mess I don't know these characters what the fuck // boring, loveless, characters are ignoring  // Season 1 Finale.  // From darker timeline // Awful Forgetable OOC //  piece of shit all the character development thrown out the window. cas deserved better (also to be with dean cause they are in love)   //  Underwhelming, disappointing garbage, a slap in the face of chatacter development. //  the dark ending //  The Chuck ending we didn't deserve. // a dumpster fire on the level of the GoT finale - all character dev & story arc thrown out. CLOWN VAMPIRES  
The Jokers among us, or those finding a laugh in the grimmest things a comedy  //  Just a joke
Relateable:  AAAA AAAAA AAAA  // AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I see what you did there and I love you 333 // 333 // 333  // 333  // 333 variations of the word fuck I especially love you  666
Rebels! 4 words (sorry): they showed their hand  //  The end of hope (that’s 4 words but too bad)
Didn´t watch the Finale  for various reasons  Haven’t seen it,  //  i didn't watch it out of spite  // haven't seen it yet for some reason // didn’t watch it  //  I didn’t watch it but everything that happened because of it activated the decade-old sleeper agent part of my brain that was a spn fan  // I stopped watching spn in the middle of season 12... The finale was awful from what I gathered
Hello Stranger, we welcome you here  I don't actually watch SPN I'm taking this for kicks bro
The Refusal (either of the finale or the  question) Nope //  No thank you // no // No   // No thanks, fuckers // No thank you. // No // This is bullshit // haha what? No  // Please, not this  // Oh god no // noooooo oooo ooo  // ....no. //  No. It sucks // I will not <3  //  no thank you  // no no no  //  no thank you  // Lmao wtf no // Nope. Just no. Refusal is self care!  No, I won't let it hurt me again. //  I can't, it's too bad
The offensive Wig! Party city wig // party city wig  //  party city wig // Homophobic, bad, wig // shitty sam wig // party city wig // Party City Wig // party city wig  // Jared's fucking wig //  bad, homophobic, party city wig // The Wig™ Blurry wife Sam's blurry wife
The Nail / Rebar!  ( @the-rusty-nail-that-killed-dean  @therustynailthatkilleddean  you are recognized) nailed by dickbar //  rusty nail wins  // Rusty fuckin nail.  //  Nail Dean Death Clown  //  dean got nailed  // Rebar. Cas helped.
All of those  Dickbar, Blurry Wife, Driving for 40yrs,Party City Wig, Drone Shot (cringe) // absolute trash fire garbage, burn the party city wig and the cw down but keep the dog
Those with crystal balls expected i guess // disappointed, not surprised
Puzzled (Yeah me too) or Undecided or Eh i don’t even fucking know // Jggfdv //  Huy  // Meh // Meh // meh  // it was bad ??
Let´s create great fanworks!! free real estate
Defies Categories and is good stuff  everything for nothing. // traumatizing, badly-written, comedic   //  devastating yet obnoxious //  God is dead but hegemonic masculinity is still kicking // maam this is a wendys  // am so glad that I was a whovian. I've dodged two bullets. // F's in the chat // >:((
I´m sorry, I failed you with this quiz quiz was wrong // Dude. Dude you gave me "liking the finale" a minute ago. I assure you; i did not. "You have found peace" bro I haven't known a SECOND of peace since that ill-begotten nightmare of a shitstorm  //  [[“I STILL HOPE UR DAY WAS G”:]]  HOW THE FUCK DID I GET THAT I LIKED THE FINALE PLS OP THIS IS NOT A MARK ON YOU OR ANYTHIG I LOVE U EVEN IF I DON'T KNOW YOU BTU PLS THE DEPRESSIVE STATE THAT I SPENT MY LIFE IN POST-FINALE DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE SHAMED IN THIS WAY I. PLEASE. I DID NOT LIKE THE FINALE. HOW DO I GET A DIFFERENT ANSWER PLEASE
Misha? Was that you? Rancid Nut Work
Particular Stuff Fuck john Winchester  // [[“ Mj”; ]]fucking disgusting shitshow [okay so that was 3 words, but MAY I JUST SAY, c*w was incredibly disrespectful to Misha, Cas, Jensen, and Dean. Misha played a Cas for 12 years, and then he's not even in the finale? and Cas gets mentioned a whopping total of 2 times after he confesses his love to Dean?? and then, Jensen. 15 years of his life on Supernatural. Jensen turned down the role to be Captain America, and his best friend is Dean, the character he plays. But then Dean dies on a rusty nail, never getting to actually live his life? Dean died how he always thought he would- and he died as "Daddy's Blunt Instrument", finishing off his dad's unfinished case. J*hn Winch*ster ab*sed him and Sam mentally, emotionally, and possibly physically too, and does NOT deserve to get a Heaven at all, least of all, a Heaven right by Deans. Dean never got to live how he wanted to and was repressed as fuck, and this is all because of his dad, the resident shit head. And don't even get me started on the queer erasure, and racism. Kevin Tran deserved better. He, after through all he suffered on Earth, deserves to go to Heaven, not be tortured in the afterlife forever. I fully believe that it's just because he was Asian. If J*hn got into Heaven, why couldn't Kevin. Also, not to mention, Charlie, Rowena, Claire, Patience, Kaia, Crowley, Donna, and Jodi, and probably countless of other queer characters who were erased. They were silenced and fuck the cw for doing that. I could add so much more, but for now, have an excellent day and a wonderful year :)]   //  [[“Yellowcollins”:]] hat the fuck was that literally what the fuck. I’m convinced the writers did not watch a single episode they made past season 3. There was literally not a SINGLE character from season 4 onwards in the finale. LITERALLY. NO. ONE. and what about “family don’t end in blood” that they’ve been preaching since LITERALLY season 1??? huh??????? nah fuck 15x20, this will go down and the WORST ending in the history of endings.
[cookie] < for everyone that made it that far ;)  
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stormyweaver · 4 years
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Okay so... *ahem* I feel like so far, my lil’ fics I’ve posted have had a decent balance of snz + story, which I personally like to read when I browse through stories in general. But uh... if you’re looking for balance/canon stuff/awesome wordiness, this ain’t it lol. This is pure indulgence that I drummed up one night and swore I would never show anyone. Then I decided ‘Eh, maybe someone else might get a kick out of it’ so! Without further stalling, here’s some pre-season 1 Wa/lking D/ead featuring Rick and Shane during their police academy days. 
"C'mon man, quit fightin' it!" "Shade, I swear to God I'm gonna... g-gonna..." "Gonna sneeze again? Hell, blind man could'a told ya' that," While a grinning Shane leaned against the end of the bed, Rick reclined off the side, hands shakily hovering over his nose. He'd had a cold for the past three days, and it finally made a head the day BEFORE their fucking latest physical test was scheduled. He could deal with the fatigue, aches and general malaise - he’d pushed through worse - but did he really have to sneeze every other minute?! "Ugh, n'do, I'mb-- hih!" Rheumy eyes glazed over, close to slamming shut as his nose twitched, tingles running rampant along the lining of his sinuses. He could fight it, he could, he just had to concentrate... "Swear to God, man, you look like you're about to cum," That- that did it. "hhiiIh-- ihhTSCHH! Hih'TXSHH! iiHHSHH! ih'SHH! 'TSHH!" The fit landed into his cupped palms point blank, each one spilling out until his body figured itself satisfied. Groaning, Rick grimaced at the mess left behind on his palms, leaning over to pluck a tissue from the box on his nightstand. "I'b blamig' you for that," Meanwhile, Shane merely side-eyed his friend, a light smirk on his lips."Told ya'. Bless you, anyway, like - times five? Shit, never could keep count with you," Teasing Rick had to be his favorite pastime, even vying for first with boning the hot chick from the local bar on the weekends. He was just too easy to get under the skin of, especially with how pathetically miserably he appeared. Though, Shane couldn't deny that, this particular jabbing session had an underlying purpose. After spending the last couple of days with a walking germ incubator, he'd already begun to feel a sore throat coming on day two. Now, there was a distinct heaviness lining his lungs, a sluggish lag creeping into his bones, and damn if he didn't wanna claw his own sinuses out. But like hell would he ever let Rick onto that fact. No willingly giving ammunition for being harped on, it simply wasn't allowed between them. The sound of Rick gently blowing his nose caught Shane's attention, another chuckle passing through his lips. "Can't imagine how you're breathin' through all that gunk, man," Going back to his book, Shane flinched as he felt something soft, papery and distinctly damp land atop his hand. Gagging, he quickly flicked the used tissue to the side, "Oh, fuckin' sick, asshole!" Turning around to reach up, he grappled for Rick's flannel to pull him onto the floor, but the other wasn't going without a fight. "Take's one to know one!" he shot back, shifting so he was on his belly and pushing himself back off the edge and out of Shane's grasp. Even the slight tousle had Rick coughing into his fist, but Shane didn't back down. Closing his book, he crawled atop the bed, taking the momentarily preoccupied Rick and pinning him down -- wrists in hand, knees locking his legs into place. Grunting in defiance, Rick shot daggers at his friend, not enough to really show anything besides a large irritation, though. "Dick," Shane merely shrugged, leaning in a bit to sing-song, "Take's one to know one~" with a snicker. Rick could only roll his eyes, sniffling heavily as he-- Oh, shit. He was gonna sneeze again. Though it would have been the ultimate revenge, the merciful part of Rick really didn't want to stack up the odds of his friend catching this. After all, Shane fit the mold when it came to who was a bigger asshole between them. Couldn’t go ruining that dynamic. "Shane, lem'be up," he insisted, shifting his hips between Shane's fucking thunder thighs as he wrinkled his nose tight. "Uh-uh, not 'til you say you're sorry 'bout tossing your snot rag at me..." His tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, "...aaaand you admit that I'm better at puttin' together a Remington. 'Cause you know it's the truth," Snorting, though Rick couldn't identify if it was indignant or reflexive, he began to squirm in earnest, shaking his head. "I-I'm serious, man, lebbe up, I gotta..." Rick felt his lungs begin to spasm, breath catching on the last word. Still clueless, Shane rose a brow at his friend, "What’s more important than tellin’ me I’m right? Nice try, but, nah. Jus' say it an' I'll let ya' go, brother," A sudden huff exited Rick's lungs, and this time his eyes rolled up in preparation of the sneezes just itching to barrel out of him. Shit, he had to move--! "S-Shane, I... I gotta... hiihhh!..." Oh, screw it, he wasn't gonna go through this again. Maybe it was time for a little bit of payback for all that teasing. It seemed by the time Shane had put two and two together, brows raising just as Rick tilted his head back, flared nostrils exposed and damp. "hh'ITSHH'uh! ih'TSHHH'uh! hih'ISHHU!" Whether it was shock or slowed reflexes, Shane got hit smack in the face with the first one, raising an arm to shield himself from the next pair. He groaned in tandem with Rick, who allowed his head to fall back with a thick snuffle. "Ugh, damb that felt good," and a mildly satisfied smirk. Wait, his hand was free-- YES! Ignoring his streaming nose with another sniffle, Rick took Shane's momentary stunned state and flipped him onto his back, reversing their position in under two seconds. "You fuckin'--!" Shane started, attempting to break free from Rick's grasp, but even with a cold the man still knew how to pin someone down. Nostrils flared, Shane sighed and glanced off to the side, swearing again before peering up at Rick with a grimace. "Seriously couldn'ta warned me before ya' sprayed all that shit on my face?" A scoff flew past Rick's lips. "I tried! You wouldn't listen, stubborn ass," Sighing, he glanced down between them before giving Shane an exasperated look. "What, you wanna get me back?" Well... maybe it was kinda too far. Definitely gross. Shane had asked for it, but, Rick honestly hated seeing that hurt puppy dog look on the others face. Damn struck sympathy chords. "... Alright here, you can punch me in the arm, alright? That make ya' feel any better?" Before he could get an answer, Shane had been silently fighting an internal battle of his own. While Rick tried and failed miserably to stave off his fittish sneezes, Shane had actually been doing a fair job of ignoring the tingling within his own crooked nose. But with all the rough and tumbling, and surprise from being sprayed in the face, tingling had morphed into an all out itch. His expression was already going slack, eyes lidded as his lips parted to suck in air so as to fuel the inevitable sneeze. Rick, knowing that expression all too well by now, groaned and tilted his head to the side. "Jus' make it quick, man," Shane managed to gasp out a chuckle, bunching his nose up and down as the tickle worked his sinuses. "T-tryin', man," Fuck, he had to sneeze so bad, why wasn't it coming out?! He sniffed, heavily, feeling his chest expand beneath Rick -- and then nothing. Groaning, he squirmed a bit under Rick, his left leg beginning to job from the anxiousness of waiting. "Fuck, man, i-ihhh... i-it won't come out!" He gasped in disbelief, feeling ridiculous as his expression twisted all from a stupid tickle in his nose. Oh. Oh, geez. Rick glanced back to Shane in a mixture of awkwardness and pity - he knew how much a stuck sneeze sucked ass. And as much as his friend deserved at least a part of this, he wasn't a complete jerk. "Alright, alright hold on," Letting go of his wrists, Rick leaned over and yanked another tissue from the box, trying to ignore how... weird it felt, having Shane kinda writhing underneath him. "Tried this the other night, an'... look, it's weird okay?" He sighed, fingers twisting the tissue until it reached a fine point, "But it works so, jus' shut up and lemme help ya'," Shane wasn't about to say no - he'd wanted to sneeze in the first place, now this was just getting ridiculous. "I-I'd try snortin' p-pepper at tthis point," But, he reckoned a tissue would be a lot less painful. He tried not to tense up as his friend brought the implement to his nostrils, but he couldn't help seizing up once it slid past the rim. "huuhh--uhhh-uuUUH--" Still, nothing but build up, and he let out an audible groan. Rick tried not to wince at his friend's obvious discomfort, biting down hard as he attempted to wiggle the tool deeper into his nose. "Jus' try and relax, s'what I had to do. Uh... t-think of somethin' that makes ya' sneeze. Like that one girls perfume, last month, remember? Shit, thought you'd just about sneeze out the entire club that night, firin' one after the other. Think'a that, okay?" Oh God, that... Shane could recall with almost perfect clarity that night, not too long ago. Whatever cheap, heady scent the girl had on, it did NOT agree with his sinuses. Shane had little problem sneezing then, barely able to get a word in-between, and Rick all but led him out into the night air. But, it stuck with him, all over his clothes, his hair... so tickly... and he'd been so.... so fucking sneezy... "Hhhhoooh God, R-rick...! T-t-think it--  think it's wuhh-huh! w-workin'..." Shane's head had tilted back as far as it could go, and this gave Rick better access to really work at his nose. He wiggled the tissue,  giving twists as he slid it in and out of his friends nostril. Just seeing the way his expression was falling almost made Rick's own nose twinge in sympathy. "Uhhh-UHHH---!" He'd hit the spot. Rick assaulted the area as best he could, hand clenched onto Shane's shoulder as he encouraged him. "Jus' ooone more..." With that, he flicked the spear, twisting it twice before sliding it out, slowly, from Shane's nose. And that seemed to do it. "huuhh--hHHUUUH---HHH! HH! HHHUURRRUUSHHHOOO!" Shane finally released, so powerful a sneeze that he rose and bumped his forehead against Rick's with the force of it. "Ghh--!" Rick staggered backwards, falling back onto the bed with a hiss as his fingers rose to massage his temple. "Shit," he chuckled, cracking an eye open to glance at Shane, "Damn, when I said fire, I didn't mean liter-- Oh..." Anyone could tell by the hazy desperation on Shane's expression that he wasn't yet finished. Hitching softly, he brushed the knuckle of his index finger against the tip of his nose, a shudder running down his spine before he sneezed again, openly. "hhHUURUSHHHH'UHHh! hHHAHHH'KSHHH AAHHH'SHHH'huh!'hue... Ohhh, fugck," Shane moaned, ignoring the ache in his head in favor of massaging the sides of his nose. It still felt like he could sneeze his brains out, but a little less insistent than before. He sniffled, yes, full on sniffled, feeling tears trickle from his eyes and sighed. "... So, uh... think ya' mighta' got m'be sick," he mumbled stuffily, sniffling again and scrubbing at the side of his nose with a finger.
Rick could only huff out a congested sigh of his own, gazing at his friend with a small, apologetic smile as he passed him the box of Kleenex. “Misery loves company,”
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quirkle2 · 4 years
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50 Questions You’ve Never Been Asked
Tagged by the wonderful @citrusveins​!
1. What is the color of your hairbrush?: Black.
2. Name a food you never eat?: Tacos. Unpopular opinion, but those suckers ain’t good.
3. Are you typically too warm or too cold?: Too cold, usually.
4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?: Laying in bed like the lazy shit I am.
5. What is your favorite candy bar?: Uhhhh Twix??? maybe??
6. Have you ever been to a professional sports event?: My school took us on a field trip to an Orioles game once. Had no fuckin’ clue what was goin’ on, but at least I got some Dippin’ Dots.
7. What is the last thing you said out loud?: Uhhhh I think ily to my mom??
8. What is your favorite ice cream?: Vanilla! I’m a basic bitch.
9. What was the last thing you had to drink?: Tea!
10. Do you like your wallet?: Yeah, sure. It ain’t fancy, but it gets the job done.
11. What was the last thing you ate?: Some Tai Pei chicken fried rice. Shit’s good.
12. Did you buy any new clothes last weekend?: I bought a shirt from Hollister that was on sale.
13. The last sporting event you watched?: Some random ass football game that my dad had on TV.
14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?: I’m not a huge fan of popcorn (now you’ve met two people, Citrus!) but like... flavor?? I just like it with butter and salt? idk
15. Who is the last person you sent a text message to?: My best friend.
16. Ever go camping?: It’s been a bit, but yeah!
17. Do you take vitamins?: I have those stupid fucking Flintstones gummies on my counter and i always forget to take them
18. Do you go to church every Sunday?: I went to church once when I was a kid because some friend of my moms was involved in it and my mom was like “hey maybe we’ll go to this” and I hated it and she hated it we were like “yeah maybe not.” Just not my cup o’ tea.
19. Do you have a tan?: Hell no.
20. Do you prefer Chinese food or pizza?: Uhhhhh oh nooooo pizza I guess.
21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?: Nah.
22. What color socks do you usually wear?: White.
23. Do you ever drive above the speed limit?: I don’t know how to drive yet. :(
24. What terrifies you?: The ocean. Being abandoned. Police. Cows- those fuckers are huge.
25. Look to your left, what do you see?: My phone and my journal.
26. What chore do you hate?: My mom has me make tea when we’re low and i never know when it’s fuckin done i’m bad at cooking okay don’t judge me
27. What do you think of when you hear an Australian accent?: "u wanna fuckin’ go m8″
28. What’s your favorite soda?: Pepsi! Or RC.
29. Do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thrus?: Drive-thrus unless we’re not really in a rush.
30. Who’s the last person you talked to?: My mom!
31. Favorite cut of beef?: Uhhhh what does this mean help i’m dumb
32. Last song you listened to?: Take What You Want by Post Malone.
33. Last book you read?: Uhh I think it was the first Percy Jackson book?? I bought the whole series recently because I wanted to see all that I apparently missed but I just stopped reading it for some reason.
34. Favorite day of the week?: Saturday!
35. Can you say the alphabet backwards?: I just tried an’ i shit you not i got two letters in
36. How do you like your coffee?: I don’t like coffee but I wish I did?? It always smells so good so I try some of it and it’s always nasty no matter what I put in it.
37. Favorite pair of shoes?: My yellow converse!
38. The time you normally go to sleep?: Around 9 because I’m a grandma.
39. The time you normally get up?: I usually wake up at 8 naturally.
40. What do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets?: Sunrise. I feel like sunsets have a sort of bittersweetness to them because when I see them I’m usually outdoors having a good day and seeing a sunset just kinda reminds you that you have to go home and sleep soon and you don’t want to.
41. How many blankets on your bed?: One!
42. Describe your kitchen plates: Uhh they’re all weird and mismatched. We have a really old one that my dad apparently ate off of when he was a kid. It’s got strawberries on it and it’s all faded and old looking.
43. Do you have a favorite alcoholic beverage?: Haven’t tried a lot because I am but a wee child but so far I really like the moonshine that my dad’s coworker makes (i was pleasantly surprised when i could barely taste the alcohol), and uhhh i think like irish cream or something?
44. Do you play cards?: Not unless my meemaw whips out some uno and she’s ready to destroy relationships. 
45. What color is your car?: I don’t have a car but we’ve got a grey-ish boi and a piece o shit white truck.
46. Can you change a tire?: haha nope.
47. Your favorite province?: Like... in Japan? what are we talkin’ about here-
48. Favorite job you’ve ever had?: *cough* i don’t yet have a job *cough*
49. How did you get your biggest scar?: Uhhh i don’t really have a lot scars... I’ve got a really faded burn mark on my arm from when I was little. I got it when my brother was being a doofus and making me laugh and I was standing next to the stove and I kinda leaned against it a little cause I didn’t really notice i was next to it.
50. What did you do today that made someone else happy?: idk man it’s like 10 am i haven’t done shit today.
Uhhh idk who to tag- if you wanna do this then don’t be shy! :D
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