#a best among skyscrapers

[suzukiblu]

Day five of fic NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The Superboy problem is a problem, but it's a backburner problem. There isn't really much Tim can do about it, after all. Bruce isn't gonna accept "hey so I know secret identities and maintaining the Bat-mystique and everything but could you just like . . . take in an extremely high-profile teenage superhero with no vested interest in maintaining any kind of secret identity of his own, maybe?" as a plan. Tim needs something better. Something more functional. And also something Kon will actually go for.

And there's just no way that Tim can just walk up to a notoriously independent and proud and defensive teammate who barely considers him an acquaintance and say "do you want an apartment and monthly living expenses and maybe also an allowance, no strings attached?"

That would be weird, definitely.

Like. Very definitely.

Tim's still tempted to try it, mind. It's not like he couldn't afford it, with a little bit of abuse of his trust fund and a lot of lying to his dad. And really, would that even be an abuse? If helping his teammate live his fucking life outside of a fucking lab counts as an abuse . . .

Well, maybe he really will move up his supervillain timeline, that's all.

But it's a backburner problem, still, and Tim isn't actually thinking about it at all when his best chance to solve it pops up. What Tim is doing is suffering through a field trip to a Metropolis art museum, because the school board is full of cowards and thinks sending his grade to an outside-Gotham museum will decrease the chances of said field trip being interrupted by a museum robbery.

Obviously it will, but come on, they're from Gotham. Like they can't handle a museum robbery.

Also all the art here is pretentious. Like, in obnoxious Metropolis-type ways.

If Tim has to look at one more stylized interpretation of the sun reflecting on a skyscraper while a "subtle" caped figure flies by in the background, he will actually choke. Like literally, actually choke.

Get one original thought. Please. Someone. Anyone.

(No, the stylized interpretations of the moon reflecting on a Gothic building while a subtle caped figure looms among the gargoyles are not equally uncreative, thank you very much. At least duplicating Gotham architecture involves some actual artistry beyond "paint a few straight lines and add a lens flare".)

Tim takes some half-assed notes about the boringly generic exhibit they're here to see and then goes looking for literally anything more interesting than said exhibit. There's got to be some photography somewhere in this place, right? Or at least some loaner art that somebody outside of Metropolis put together before Superman's public debut. Or something.

He ends up in the ancient Mesopotamian exhibit mostly by trying to avoid people and, unfortunately, immediately runs straight into a magical artifact. He doesn't actually know it's magic at the time, but the assholes who are about to blow in an outside wall in pursuit of it sure do.

Tim, unfortunately oblivious to phenomenal cosmic power in clay form, thinks it looks kind of like a cute little toy goat and is just grateful it isn't another skyscraper.

Then the wall gets blown in.

"The school board deserves this," Tim mutters, closing his notebook and sticking it back in his bag because sure, why not. This might as well happen.

Ugh.

The very obvious thieves rush in through the gap in the wall. A few people scream–Tim assumes to be polite, since this is already the most unimpressive museum robbery he's seen in months–and the civilians scatter as the guards rush forward. Tim wonders why anyone's even bothering, given that this is Metropolis. What, are they worried the thieves aren't gonna validate their parking for them?

Seriously, Tim knows all the robbery statistics in this city. Even when Superman doesn't show up, the injury and fatality rates are shockingly low. It's statistically more dangerous to go for a walk in Gotham Park mid-afternoon than it is to be present for an armed robbery in Metropolis.

Which is funny, considering the people doing armed robberies in Metropolis come armed for Superman.

Look, Tim doesn't understand the statistics, he just records them.

The thieves tie up the guards first, which seems like a waste of time to Tim when time is of the essence but probably will be for the best if they get pinned down in the gallery, he supposes. Then again, that'd likely end up in a hostage situation anyway, so why worry about containing a couple of unarmed guards over saving thirty seconds when you're doing a smash and grab?

Seems inefficient to him, considering.

He keeps assessing the situation and taking mental notes as he ushers various classmates and museum-goers towards comparative safety, since a successful supervillain timeline requires appropriate research and development. And also, Metropolis-based criminals should know how to work around Superman, at least in theory, so it's best to keep an eye on what does and doesn't work for them.

Not for any specific reason, obviously.

Definitely not.

One of the thieves goes for the little clay goat, smashing its glass display case with their armored elbow, and only then do the museum alarms start screaming. Seems like a stupid design choice when an exploding wall doesn't set them off, but whatever, at least there are alarms.

Honestly, if it were him, Tim would have a silent alarm and a secondary alarm set to a specifically Superman-discernable frequency, though he's sure Superman would get sick of that quick in non-life-threatening situations, so maybe there are local regulations about that or something, who knows. He should look into that, actually. Or just play something annoying on a frequency normal human hearing can’t discern and see what happens, if nothing else.

They make sonic fences to keep dogs in and teenagers out, don't they? Same theory.

The thieves are all yelling orders to each other and arguing; no clear chain of command and a poorly-established plan, Tim notes. Most of the civilians are clear or behind cover, so if he just–

Right, Tim remembers belatedly as one of the thieves makes a grab for him. He's currently wearing civilian wear, isn't he.

That probably means he needs to let this incredibly clumsy grab work, doesn't it, he reflects resignedly. Definitely it does, actually.

Ugh.

Tim, dubiously, lets the thief grab him and debates how upset he's supposed to look about this situation. A Gothamite can't look too freaked out over a Metropolis criminal, obviously; he'd never live it down at school. Seriously, is this guy even armed, he–

Ah, never mind. Definitely armed.

And an idiot with no concept of trigger safety, judging by the way he's holding the gun he's currently jamming into Tim's temple.

Great. Just great.

What does this moron even think he's doing, anyway? The guards are all tied up, as far as he knows there's no superheroes on scene, and nobody's actually trying to stop them. If he accidentally murders a civilian right now, they're all going to be in way, way worse trouble than just stealing a little clay goat would entail.

Tim resists the urge to point that out since there is, again, a gun to his head right now and the person holding it there is in fact a moron with no concept of trigger safety. Not an ideal time to start a conversation, especially not to criticize said moron.

It's tempting, just again, not ideal.

"The fuck are you doing?!" one of the thieves yells to the one going to a really unnecessary amount of effort to drag Tim along. "You were supposed to grab a little kid for the hostage!"

"There's no little kids, Mark!" the thief holding Tim protests petulantly. "I'm doing my best here, man!"

"No names, asshole!" the apparent "Mark" yells back at him.

Tim is pretty sure these thieves are just not very good at crime in general. Or possibly just not very good at anything at all.

He starts calculating the best place to "trip" out of this guy's arms and "accidentally" elbow him in the dick–off-camera, obviously, he doesn't want to leave any footage for anyone to review later–and pretends to be a good little hostage in the meantime, if not a particularly cowed one. Again: Gothamite. He can't actually let it look like a Metropolis criminal did anything worse than mildly annoy him.

Okay, maybe like, Lex Luthor or Brainiac could get a Gothamite past "mildly annoyed", but not a half-assed handful of petty thieves with a shitty plan and an even shittier exit strategy. They would've been better off running in, grabbing what they wanted, and then just scattering; even Superman can't be everywhere at once, especially if the thieves all blended into the crowd or had a couple of getaway cars waiting or something similar. Multiple targets, it'd be easy for him to miss the right one until it was too late.

That would require actual skill and planning and genuine forethought, though, which are very clearly not things this crew has bothered with either developing in themselves or outsourcing to someone competent.

Tim is going to be so fucking embarrassed if he dies to a low-level Metropolis criminal's craptastic trigger discipline. At least the Joker got Jason. There was a plan and actual malicious intent there, and also intentional targeting of specifically him. Tim has apparently just been tagged as "person who looks easiest to hold hostage", which he guesses he could take as a good sign for his acting abilities but honestly is more likely just this guy being a fucking dumbass with less brains than a mummified limpet.

God, imagine what his classmates would put in the yearbook if he died on a Metropolis field trip, too. Actually, no, never mind, he doesn't even want to think about it. Too fucking mortifying a possibility.

The thief drags Tim closer to suitable "tripping" territory, Tim debates how hard he can elbow him and still claim it was accidental, and somebody says, "Are you fucking serious, man?"

Somebody, specifically, is Kon. He's standing in the middle of the hole in the wall in the full leather jacket and S-shield combo, hands on his hips and expression exasperated. Tim has a weird, irrational moment of thinking he actually recognizes him and wants to know how he fucked up this bad, but Kon's eyeing the thieves, not him.

"You know I'm gonna get blamed for this, right," Kon says, gesturing meaningfully at the smashed-in wall. "I always get blamed for the property damage."

"Back off or I'll shoot!" the thief holding Tim yells, jamming the barrel of his gun annoyingly hard into his temple.

"Does 'faster than a speeding bullet' mean nothing to you people?" Kon asks, tilting his head just enough to make it obvious that he's rolling his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Superman is faster than a speeding bullet," another thief snaps. "Not you, you shitty little poser."

"I mean, you could try testing me and then get attempted murder on your crime bingo cards for absolutely zero reason," Kon suggests conversationally, smirking in amusement. "Security cameras still running in here?"

Tim guesses he's saved, technically, but this definitely means he can never tell Young Justice his secret identity, because if Kon recognizes him he will never, ever let him live this down.

Also, everybody at school is going to give him so much shit for getting saved by a Super.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #long post #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, flighty!reader, reader works in forensics, prohero!katsuki, aged up (around mid 20s)

a/n. this was fun to write lmao. this is definitely not self-indulgent :0 again, would surely appreciate reblogs and comments <3

You’re a runner.

And no, not in the dystopian, getting-out-of-a-manmade-maze sense.

You run from feelings.

And that happens to include the kind when someone gets a little bit too close for comfort.

But you also do run in the literal sense.

In fact, you just did.

Panting, you round the next corner of your office building’s hallway, what was once a sprint (at least, the type that was possible in a crowded skyscraper in Tokyō) now faltering into a light jog.

Huffing, you chance a peek behind your shoulder, a sigh wracking your body when you conclude that the man of the hour is finally out of sight.

“What’s up with you?”

The man’s red-headed best friend quirks an amused eyebrow at you when you halt at the sound, startled.

He slows down in his steps as he appraises the mess that you currently are; from the looks of it, he’s heading in the direction you’re desperately trying to run away from, and for a split second, you’re half your mind to drag him with you to the elevator and vanish before the man could spot the both of you.

Why the fuck are you acting like this?

“I—Was just wanting to—” At this point, you’re severely out of breath. And you’d chalk it up to the physical exertion you definitely aren’t used to, but you know it’s more than that.

The warmth of your cheeks seems to suggest that, too.

“Hold up.”

You look up at Kirishima, one hand still on your hip to help keep you upright despite the exhaustion.

He tilts his head. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting with Bakubro?”

Even just the mention of his name triggers your fight-or-flight response.

It also happens to send a flood of longing right through you.

“Yeah,” you rasp, before checking over your shoulder again. Coast: still clear.

“What are you—” Kirishima starts, eyebrows pinched in confusion, before what looks like realization and amusement flash across his features.

“Did he—”

“Yeah,” you cut him off before he could say it.

Apparently, being confessed to out of the blue by the man you’ve been in love with for a year cuts your sentence-formation capabilities to not more than one worded ones at a time.

Just as you expected, worry dances its way across Kirishima’s face.

“Are you running away from him?”

You choke on your spit.

“Hey, easy, Y/N,” Kirishima says while awkwardly rubbing your back as you cough your lungs out.

You stand upright when you finally gather your bearings, ready to explain, or attempt to explain to Kirishima (but more to yourself) why you just fled the meeting room where you and Bakugou were discussing the forensics of his new case.

It’s not like you didn’t see it coming.

The feelings, not the outright confession.

Midoriya, Kirishima, and his other friends have made it pretty obvious with their background teasing that the emotionally constipated blonde has taken a particular interest in you.

(Background because the aforementioned blonde would indubitably kill them if he found out they were teasing you, let alone about him.)

You just couldn’t bring yourself to believe it and hell—start to hope—until a while ago, when the Bakugou Katsuki himself slammed his fist on the table, spitting out the three words you’ve been dreaming to hear from him since you first worked on that gory ass mission together.

Well, four. If you count the curse slotted among the ‘I like you’.

But as it turns out, the reality of it all—Bakugou’s vulnerability, mutual feelings, and possibly dating a Pro Hero—scared you.

And so you ran.

And you were about to confess all this to poor Kirishima when a booming voice echoes through the hallway, effectively triggering your (definitely) flight response once more.

At that, you bolt to the elevators, leaving behind a speechless Kirishima.

Luckily for you, Bakugou has always been good at chasing what he wants.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou imagine #bakugou drabble #bakugou fluff #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n

[shirecorn]

Do gods come in other shapes besides horse skyscraper

so far only the three "pony" species have been granted godhood, and it was by gods who were once within the trifecta. Some theorize that other species such as dragons could ascend if wished so by the gods. This thought is publicly regarded as silly at best and blasphemous at worst. Pony supremacy is a real problem within equestria, and especially among religious circles.

The most recent era has brought much needed connection between the people of equestria and other lands, so as the gods begin to see other species as equal to ponies, they may consider them candidates for godhood as well.

Discord is a god from another dimension, and does not follow Equestria's rules. (I am still working on his drawing, but you can read his lore here maybe

#skyscraper gods lore #skyscraper gods #ask #discord

[queen-of-elves]

Acceptable

Armitage Hux x reader - Modern Office AU + some background Reylo

Summary: You have been working for First Order for years now slowly giving up on the idea of your dream project ever gracing your presence until it finally happened, however, there is a slightly cold and rude problem, other team leader Armitage Hux. 

REQUESTS ARE OPEN (And I'm begging you to send me some)

A/N: There is not enough classic fanfics for Armitage and almost zero AUs so I am here to satisfy the bitches, it’s me, I am the bitches

+not betaread so be kind

Words: 5.8K

Warnings: some swearing probably, there is always swearing in my fics, talking about f themself cause corporate life is annoying, some inappropriate thoughts

Tags:@l0stinth3nightsky @this-harl0t-shant-be-unalive

Everyone in the company knew how mean and bossy Armitage Hux was, even if you were from a completely different department, but this project was going to pull you in his inner work team and it terrified you to get first hand experience with him. You heard plenty of times how he made new interns cry and the older ones want to commit a suicide. So you weren’t exactly thrilled at working with him even on a project you have literally dreamed of since being accepted to work for the First Order company, the most prestigious company among prestigious companies. The project required two different departments that almost never interacted which also didn’t help.

You were ready for the first meeting between two departments, each under the supervision of completely different people and personalities, to be just a horrendous trainwreck. But Armitage Hux being the team leader of the other one? You didn’t have to be some kind of prophet to know this was going to be painful just to watch. Even though you were anxiously expecting disaster to occur in the first meeting, the sunshine side in you just had to shine through. So you had an exceptionally good morning, you were on time, had a delicious bagel and the sky was sunny, therefore there was no chance of Hux fucking up your day.

The office building was huge but not exceptional among the other skyscrapers littering the city, molding it into cement block maze. The windows provide enough clearance for you to see the busy people already moving around in the offices above, you even noticed some of your own team members anxiously waiting for your arrival while preparing the rest of the documentation for today's team meeting. 

You knew you were ready, your team also knew but that didn’t put to rest the anxious little monster growing inside your stomach. Still, you put on your best brave smile and entered the lobby, greeted the receptionist Clara and continued down the hall to wait for the elevator. Beeping your employee card on the scanner, to let you proceed to the elevator, put you right back into your morning routine, well, just for your coworker and a sort of subordinate, Rey bombard you with questions in the waiting line. 

“Did you hear it?” Her voice sounded an octave higher than usual or maybe it was just your tired brain not used to loud sounds yet, nothing a good old coffee couldn’t fix in minutes.

“Hm?” Your brain was still too tired to properly answer and so you only mumbled an acknowledgement to her question. Slow sips of your latté seemed to clear your mind a bit, thank god for sales like bagel plus free coffee at the local cafe otherwise you would be unusable these days.

“You know what I mean.” You were sure if you were to meet eyes with Rey, she would pierce you with that intense gaze. 

“The merge.” There was no merge, so far you weren’t even aware of any cuts in finances for this year or the one to follow. Whatever Rey was talking about was most likely just a bunch of bored employees gossiping and conspiring together, nothing major, nothing serious. This realization calmed you down even though The Merge sounded quite apocalyptic.

“I can assure you there is no merge, especially not between our two departments, Miss-” A voice interrupted but it did not intend to finish that sentence as if the owner was too busy to learn Rey’s name at all. He turned his attention to you, measuring you over, his calculating glare went over the ink stained hands to your low set black heels with that tiny cut on the left side you were so desperate to hide with black marker.

Armitage Hux waiting in front of the elevator for your arrival was definitely not on your list for today. He looked like a pristine image out of some magazine with men’s suits, his deep blue shaded suit with silver cufflinks perfectly paired with an expensive looking watch he was now checking printing itself in the back of your brain forever. Quite a nightmarish image of a handsome man with such a cold and cruel demeanor.

“You are both late. Meeting room 3 in 5 minutes.” And with that he was gone again, like a ghost, maybe he is a ghost of this building, stackup nitpicking cold monster that was stabbed by his tired employee centuries ago and now has to haunt the rest of you. He didn’t even turn around making you puzzle if he was truly addressing you.

“What’s going on?” Whisperyelled Rey, her wide eyes scanning the surrounding as if Armitage was going to pop up from the corner to remind her she has now 4 minutes left to be present in the meeting room.

“Trouble.” You simply answered your bewildered friend, there was no better answer to it after all. The morning you dreamed of was slowly fading into a nightmarish mess but at least you had now caffeined your brain enough to proceed to normal functions. Plus your team had your back, there was nothing to be afraid of except Armitage Hux and he was simply a man in a suit. Just an ordinary man in a tailored suit with a stoic expression.

And you were right, the team really had your back but Armitage definitely didn’t, he was mean and bossy and nitpicking and just so fucking insufferable. However, the meeting ended with both departments and their leaders arriving at a consensus, not a happy one. It almost reminded you of those messy divorce screaming matches in tv shows, except this was veiled in professionalism and formal language.

Of course your suffering didn’t end just as did the meeting, he was probably a sadist, prolonging your pain with his “Word?”. You were sure it wasn’t even a question, it was just an order for you to follow him straight to his office.

Armitage Hux’s office was neat as it can be, if it weren’t for the few scattered papers on the desk you would guess this was one of those exhibitions of furniture in Ikea. Well, even the Ikea display has more personality, some fakeass photos of happy couple/family. His office is neat until it’s bare, devoid of indicating anything about the owner’s personality. 

That’s kinda sad.

“Listen, I know that the project is not top notch of the quality it could be but I think we have a solid plan we can now expand upon.” You had to win this argument, you wouldn’t let him defeat you over a project you so desperately wanted for years. So, if he wanted to fight you were ready to bare teeth at this twig in a suit. 

“Oh, and before you say it’s-,” you couldn’t even finish before he interrupted you, “acceptable.”

 “What?” You blurted out, completely stunned by his remark. Did Armitage Hux, after all that tousling about in the meeting room, admit the plan your team created is acceptable. Yes, there were few changes happening after the “discussion” of both teams but nothing you have not foreseen already that also didn’t mean you were happy with said changes. But consensus between two completely different departments is everything the leadership asked for.

“The proposal is acceptable, I don’t understand why I should be doubtful, so far you have only proven to be a valuable asset for the company.” Armitage was always the epitome of professional and now he was complimenting you. He was complimenting you, right? Maybe you had too much coffee, maybe you had not enough coffee and maybe God was spinning on his chair and laughing at you up in the sky.

“Oh, thanks. I will take it as a compliment, even though you sound like a formal email impersonator.” Gosh, did you really just say that to him? There was a cold sweat pooling down your back, anxiety ranking up. Was he going to yell at you for such a statement, what you have heard so far it wouldn’t be unusual for him to yell at people over smaller things.

“I don’t.” His expression could be only described as a deadpan expression. It’s actually kinda funny, not entirely scary. He doesn’t laugh, noted, but you do and you also make people laugh and so you set your new target.You almost look around to see a hidden camera or an entire camera crew as if in The office. And while you amused yourself in your mind Armitage sported back his expression to emotionless stare before turning his attention back to the documents on the desk. 

“You do.” A small laugh escaped your lips at that moment and with his attention divided elsewhere you took it as an ideal time to run away exit the situation and also the office.

But before you could escape this storm of a man, he had to add. “Until the next meeting I expect you and your team to finish said plans.” And with that the conversation and mess of a morning comes to an end. However, there is still a lot of time for unexpected surprises before the day ends.

And so it began, the little you running circles in your brain over the thoughts of your new co-leader, the cold redhead slowly sneaking in your head again and again. It helped the clock to tick faster which was a good thing but the constant train of thoughts disassembling every part of your interaction with him over the time was like a cold shower every single time.

The last time you checked the clock read 5 minutes after 8pm and with that you started to pack your things ready to head home, have little dinner and continue with the paperwork over a random kdrama playing as a background noise. And as you bid everyone goodbye you noticed Armitage’s crouched figure in his office, going over some even more boring paperwork than was the one waiting on you at home. It was probably true, the first one to be in the office and the last one to leave that was Armitage’s schedule.

Sad.

And so you set your mind on a new plan, a horrible and cruel plan to ruin your late morning and exchange it for an early cold shower wake up and speed walk to a cafe not only for your favorite bagel but also a special delivery of coffee.

God, what am I even doing this early?

When the alarm buzzed you were around 100% sure you were making a mistake. Waking this early should be a crime. No, It is a crime. Especially when you were a busy little bee like you always are and spent the whole night until 3am working. But part of you knew it was going to be worthy, today was the day you were going to crack that tough ice cold exterior of Armitage’s facade.

If waking up this early wasn’t a mistake the cold shower definitely was but in all honesty you were just afraid you would fall asleep on the bus, so cold shower it was. In the end it was kinda worthy, you got your favorite bagel without having to wait in long line; got another free coffee, you had no idea if the sale was still on or if you just looked so terrible they felt sad for you and just had to give it to you; you also got Armitage his coffee and as a big finale you were on time, actually very early overall. 

The office was ruefully empty. And there was no Rey to talk to, you knew she wasn’t going to be in the office until 9am but you still hoped even she would find the idea of early start amusing. In reality you expected to get laughed at when she finally decides to grace the office with her presence.

You might have felt alone in the empty corridors of the building but it was not so empty after all. The curtain might have been drawn but you could see a slim light escaping in between them from his office, the artificial light was definitely not sunshine. 

He must have stayed up all night.

Mustering courage you knocked on his door before waiting on an invitation to let yourself in. It was useless, there was no sound coming from the office and so you knocked again and then again. Realizing he was not going to answer you decided to open the door and check up on him anyway.

He was sleeping on his desk with his suit jacket over the chair behind him and loose tie around his neck. The dress shirt slightly crumpled at the edges, his red hair tousled around and neck craned in such an uncomfortable position you were sure of his incoming back pain.

“Knock, knock.” You tried to say softly, just lightly waking him up but instead you groaned, your voice still not comfortable from no use this morning, startling him awake.

“I-” His form jolted, eyes flying open and searching the room for the culprit of his rough awakening. Blue eyes finally gazing upon you, Armitage looked boyishly handsome that morning, it was not just the wide expression but the state of disarray you found him in.

You decided against speaking, part of you afraid your blushing form would say something stupid, the stupid thoughts of the redhead not leaving you alone. The, almost like a cardboard, coffee cup made an uncomfortable noise once you pushed it on the table toward its owner, making the moment even more awkward.

He took a slow sip, still not fixing his hair or attire and part of you wished he never would, it suited him and you probably liked it even more than it actually suited him. 

“How did you know what coffee I drink?” His voice still hoarse and laced with sleepiness painted your cheeks even more crimson red. God it made you imagine things, you didn’t even know from where the thoughts were coming but there was somehow no way to stopping them. Your view of Armitage Hux completely shattering and rearranging itself into a different image.

“It's just black coffee, Hux, I assumed you would like black coffee, you are like the embodiment of black coffee.”

“Thank you, that's very considerate of you.” His lips touched the cup in a cautious move before he took a sip, trying to hide his small smile but you noticed it, you definitely noticed it and you knew you won. You won Armitage Hux over with a simple gesture of kindness.

”Was it a compliment or?” You wanted to laugh and you wanted to see more of a happier Armitage from now on. You felt like you got closer to Hux at that moment, a possible friendship started to blossom between the two of you. 

“Who knows.” Shrugging, he moved on to finally fix himself a little, smirk still apparent on his lips complimenting his tired stare. In that moment you wanted to experience more moments like this and you sure were going to try.

********

Finally it was the day the board would either accept the project or deny it. You couldn’t sleep for two days prior and even before that you slept only around 15 hours in a week, you felt almost dead. Both of you, Armitage and you, were now staring at your notebooks, ready to receive the final answer to your now weeks long struggle. 

Armitage's notebook beeped, a notification sounding off, sending you flying across the desk almost into his lap, not even considering it could be a completely different email or even personal thing.

You and Armitage got closer, just as the both of your teams, over the weeks you spent on this project, countless nights together in the office seemed to harden your relationship even more. You had fun, Armitage was not only a hardworking perfectionist and handsome man, he was also very funny, like ridiculously funny in your opinion.

The email was long, like unnecessarily when it comes to formal corporal emails but the end of it was just so promising. Both of you skimmed over the words, searching for the phrases denied. There was none, the only thing in the end it contained was so sweet and wanted approval for your project, relieving you both of disappointment.

You were not sure who was the first, if you or Armitage, but now the both of you were jumping as high as you could while clinging to each other, a victorious hug. It could take only seconds or minutes, you squealing and Armitage yelling, hugging each other and jumping once again, but when it was over, the embarrassment in both parties was apparent. 

Anyone could come into this office at any time, it was not uncommon for most of the higher ranking employees to just not knock and barge in and if they saw the team leaders of the current biggest project in the company disheveled and out of breath, who knows what they would think.

There was a common understanding of this premise and so the following actions were understandable, while you tried to smooth your skirt down, Armitage did the same to his hair and also his tie. He was still out of breath and a bit flushed, his look of happiness making you warm again.

“You should trust your guts more.” And again with his disheveled appearance, this man was going to be the death of you for sure. And while he was busy sporting himself back into his usual calm and perfect form you had to admire how far the both of you have come. 

“Trust my guts? Armitage, I have a crippling anxiety.” Wholehearted laugh clawed its way out of your throat, making him smile. “That’s like the worst advice ever.” You continued still giggling like a little girl with your cheeks starting to hurt from all the happiness flowing inside you.

“I tried.”

“I appreciate it.” You gave him a small shy smile, your cheeks were still too warm for you to completely concentrate. “Thank you.” You whispered in the end.

“You are welcome.” Nodding fondly over this conversation, Hux gave you a smug expression, which you have completely missed because you turned your attention back to the documents you had to prepare for the next meeting.

“Even though you should be the one thanking me for my amazing advice.” Armitage chimes in, relaxed expression kept in place while he slightly nudged you in the ribs.

“Was it a joke?” Your face morphing into a shocked amused grin, you turned to him, observing the man momentarily. “Did Armitage Hux just make a joke?” You were not aware that Armitage Hux, the cold hearted redhead, could joke but you liked it and hoped it would stay like this for a while.

“I regret ever interacting with you.” You could see the slight smirk forming on Armitage's face when he spoke, unable to contain it. Since starting working on this project you and Armitage really got close, you would even call him your friend now. Yeah, he was still sometimes a cold prick but you could see the appeal of him. Handsome, smart and very passionate for his work with a decent sense of humor, Armitage Hux was definitely a catch. This project really opened your eyes when it came to him.

“You don’t.” Your elbow met what you firstly assumed would be a bony mass but in reality was well defined muscles under what you deemed was branded suit.

“I do.” He couldn’t fight the smirk off now. It was awfully obvious. The past you would probably be slightly horrified over the thought of Armitage Hux smirking. The picture of it being painted under the impression that he is obviously an evil corporate man. However, seeing him smirk now sparked something completely different in you. The silly picture of an evil man from a cartoon you used to hold in your mind when someone said his name was replaced with a charming looking redhead man in a suit with a warm aura around him. 

“Nah.” You felt silly, stupid and giddy over this man and how warm he made you feel even though everyone viewed him as a cold and mean man he never was. “You love it.” 

“Yeah, I do.” The stare he gave you made something carnal turn in you, it was not an alien feeling but with Armitage there was a new intensity to it. Red liquid heat pooled inside your belly under his loving gaze.

Oh.

“I-I have to go and- inform the team, you know- so they like- know and- stuff.” You titered a bit, unsure how to continue such a conversation. Did Armitage Hux really make your heart skip a beat now? First he jokes and now he makes your heart flutter, the world truly is full of wonders

.

“Yeah, totally. I-” He seemed absentminded for a second, something you could hardly ever see on the young team leader’s face. Everyone might talk about his cold attitude but no one could deny how dedicated Armitage was to his work. Even though you weren’t from the same department you knew long before this project presented itself in front of you, that he was the first in the office and also the last one to leave. His workaholism seemed even more prominent with his quick responses to your emails regarding the shared project no matter at which hour you would send them. It was something worth admiring and fearing at the same time. And now you were the one stuck in their mind and still staring at him. 

“Hey, would you like- to go for a coffee or something?” His voice cracked in the middle, maybe it was trying to stop him from continuing but he still pushed through, the final bits of courage sending him past the finish line, finally asking.

OH.

“Your proposal is acceptable.” You tried to imitate his voice, those words as a reminder to the conversation you had with him after the first meeting.

“Thank god.” The relief on his face was comforting to see. Armitage was really keen to go out with you and it made you happy beyond anything.

Bonus little bits with Armitage’s POV:

He really hoped he could avoid Ben this morning but luck seemed not to be on his side this time. Armitage and Ben have been friend-workers since they both started in the company. They actually knew each other even before since they both went to the same college. At first they were not awfully close, Ben liked to annoy the fuck out of Armitage while he was trying to enjoy his morning coffee, lunch or evening run. Basically destroying nice things he liked but somehow the two of them stuck together and formed a sort of friendship over some time. That of course didn’t change anything on Ben annoying him with every single ounce he had in himself, which was the exact reason he really wanted to escape him this morning. This perfect late morning, he decided to enjoy himself and to read in bed until it was completely necessary to go to work. He never did that but recent sunshine in his office seemed to brighten his life and mood all the time so why not to enjoy a slow morning, he was after all always on time for 5 years straight now.

Armitage could see Ben towering over the cubicles scattered over the big room on the second floor of the company building. Ben was currently laughing over something some brown haired woman said, Armitage recently learnt her name was Rey and Ben was incredibly fond of her. This information was obviously carefully and pragmatically locked down inside his brain to be used later if the time called for it.  

And so Armitage hoped he could silently walk down to his office without Ben annoying him so early in the morning, leaving him to reminisce about what today could bring him, especially if it was in the form of a cute co-leader he recently had the chance to meet. He was wrong, obviously, well not really, but yes, he was wrong.

The young redhead was correct when his thoughts browsed back to you and if you would be as cheerful in his presence as you were yesterday. What he however didn’t mean to summon was not only your attention but also Ben’s.

“Armitage!” And there you were, a sunshine smile and loud voice directing everyone's attention, including Ben’s, to yourself before they turned to see him.

He simply nods in acknowledgement without realizing his face was graced with a slowly spreading smile. Ignoring his previous distaste in morning conversation, giving her a small wave didn’t seem so annoying as greeting Ben.

“Well, well, well, who is trying to sneak by.” God, just his voice could irritate Armitage to death on most days but today it was exceptionally nightmare inducing.

“I wasn’t sneaking by. I was simply walking to my office.” He answers curly, not giving even a glance to Ben, his expression still souring into deadpan one.

“You should take your coffee with some milk, you are awfully bitter in the morning.” Ben sniggers, amused at his joke.

“You're the one who is quite giddy today. Did the board meeting yesterday go that well?” But Armitage is ready to fire back right at him.

“Nah, not really.” This finally got Ben to shut up and Armitage to go about his morning in silence.

******************

“I didn’t think you were the type to go crazy over a woman.” Ben’s laugh is loud and childish, echoing on the open walls of the main hall between offices. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The look he gave to Ben was one of his favorites, offended and beyond believe irritated. It was a perfect illusion for him to uphold, ‘cause in reality Hux’s mind was in a midst of complete panic but still he kept on his killer pace to his office, maybe to lose Ben in the big space where the rest of the desk of their subordinates was located.

How much does he know?

This thought however, stopped Armitage in his walk, contemplating if he should address it more. And finally where he was sure his tongue wouldn’t twist itself in his mouth when he spoke of you, he turned around. 

“You talk like a cartoon villain, you know that, right?.” Ben’s tall form was not leaning on the side of one of the tables , his gaze partly fixed at his phone before it’s lifted to assess the redhead’s reaction. It was deliberate, it was all planned out, a humiliating and uncomfortable situation Ben could trap him in easily, to get all the answers he wanted.

Now he knew he couldn’t win against that ridiculous giant, this was always a losing game. If he took it too seriously Ben would admit to only be joking, trying to get a rise out of him, if he continued to ridicule or ignore his questions Ben would only tease him more, a truly lost game in Armitage’s eyes. “God, please go and do your job.” But still he could try to collect any advantage he could get his hands on, the advantage being taking everything and shutting himself in his office until the end of the day.

-collects all his things and gets up to leave

“I am working.” Ben’s cheerful voice still followed him, digging into his back in a teasing manner. “No, You are not!” Armitage was aware how his voice boomed through the office making some employees turn their heads over the ruckus but Ben was quite oblivious to his friend’s voice’s effect. He actually couldn’t help but laugh at his friend for moments still unaware of the attention he was given by his colleagues hidden among the various desks in that room. However, even Ben was deemed to notice the confused look he was given by one of the younger secretaries over the small cubicle wall.

“Sorry.” His hands flew up in an apology or a manner that reminded most of them of surrender, before he decided to lift himself up from the desk and proceed to an elevator. Ben of course caught a glimpse of her, so familiar brown haired woman who was already entering one of the elevators. Feeling his chance, Ben's quick walking, caused by his slight embarrassment from the situation prior, turned into jogging when he thought he was already out of sight for the rest of his colleagues.

“Hi.” The elevator was empty except for the said brown haired woman, she looked pretty, exceptionally pretty. Well, she always looked beautiful and so to level the playing field, Ben put on one of his charming smiles before he glanced her way.

**************************

“You should ask her out.” This was coldly stated in the midst of conversation about going for a drink since both of the men’s projects were going to finish soon. The sentence positively stunning Armitage into a statue with a cold sweat pooling slowly down his back while his dark haired counterpart continued to munch on his sandwich.

“Ask her out or I will.” This time those words were slurred between Ben finishing the prelast bite and attempting to stuff the rest of the sandwich in his mouth. Ben’s tall form was stashed between the seating area and one of the tables, he was crunched over but no one of it helped to not make him stand out in the crowd of eating people with his broad shoulders. Ben always towered over everyone, except over Phasma from accounting actually, but everyone else was a victim to his high stature. It was almost comical just as his words. Still, Armitage fumbled with his hands, dropping from one the document he was reading while not being able to control the other, his grip on the sandwich slipping until it unceremoniously slammed in his lap and into the napkin he thankfully unfolded on it.

“What?“

“Ask her out or I-”“I heard you the first time.” Ben was used to Armitage’s cruel remarks or even interruptions but this was the first time he did so with such a vigor.

 “Why did you ask then?” There was a knowing smirk painted on his lips, the redhead falling into his trap one more time.

“I know you won’t ask her out.” This confused Ben greatly. What did he mean? The dark haired man adored teasing his pale friend on a daily basis but it was almost unheard of Armitage opposing him. He did attempt to oppose several times and it was not exactly as playful as Ben wished for, usually it consisted of Hux reminding him to get back to work and where is the fun in that? But this time, this time Armitage had something on Ben and he absolutely didn’t like it.

“Rey wouldn’t like that, would she now?” What was left of the knowing smirk on Ben’s face disappeared seconds after those words were muttered into the air between the two men. This time it was Ben who was left with red cheeks and ears, absolutely flabbergasted and fumbling hands with the wrappers of his now gone lunch.

************************

Armitage didn’t even realize how organized you were but now that he had the chance to see inside your office he was lost for words. Who would have thought someone like you would have neatly organized folders with color marked projects and spreadsheets for time management not only for your team but your work.

“You are awfully organized.” He truly was in awe at how your space looked. 

“Thanks?”

“I expected to find a battlefield in your office but it’s- surprisingly tiddy?” He didn’t mean tiddy, he meant a perfect, absolutely and adoringly perfect environment for him to exist, something that almost seems to be made just for him.

“That’s kinda rude, Armitage.” He was not known for making a lot of people laugh, maybe Ben but it was more of a laugh at his own account, with you it was somehow ridiculously easy, apparently.

“I was complimenting you.” He objects, trying to defend his honor, it was not in his intentions to come off as rude as it might have seemed. 

“Sure.”

 Again with the laugh.

“You should take it as a compliment. Organized people are h-,” he paused, gulping down his words until it weighed heavy in his stomach,”good.” 

“Good?” There was a suspicious smirk playing on your lips as if you knew what he wanted to say but Armitage almost sure you had no clue, you simply wanted to tease him a bit more.

 But God, what if you did catch his misstep? No, surely you didn’t. He gave you one more questioning look to make sure you were none the wiser. 

“Yes.” He had to clear his throat, to compose himself a bit by bit but there was an unbearable weight at his chest, almost too consuming. “For business. Organized people are known to be very reliable and hardworking employees.”

Yes, good. They are good. I totally didn’t mean hot. Because organized women are totally not absolutely hot. And I totally just didn’t realize it’s a thing for me. Ha ha. Please, act normal.

Armitage’s brain must have looked like a scrambled egg now, trying to unravel all his thoughts into a coherent solid state so he could function properly while unsuccessfully avoiding all his thoughts involving you and this office.

“Found it.” You held up a blue folder with a little yellow sticky note poking out of the main pages.

Oh, yes, the scripts for the main document, that’s what brought the two of you inside your office. That’s why he was now stuck between walls adored with shelves upon which sat dozens of cute plants. A complete opposite of his office but very cozy, it was obvious you decorated the room with a clear idea of making it a positive and comfortable environment. The purple sofa in the corner ideal for-

Yep, Armitage was fully aware he was fucked.

#armitage hux x reader #armitage hux x reader au #office au #star wars x reader #star wars fanfiction #domhnall gleeson x reader #general hux x reader #isa writes #reylo #ben solo #rey and ben solo

[hills-and-dale]

Drawing both to figure out my aesthetic preferences and to fight art block. This is my attempt at a Changeling as might exist in @shirecorn 's Skyscraper Gods MLP au.

Forgive me in advance for my poor paragraph separation.

The horn is shaped to collect magic rather than to channel it, and a groove runs down the sides to siphon said magic into the body to gain energy. The bodily tears are both from damage due to their lifestyle (vaguely specified by Shire, and I don't want to speculate too hard) and as camouflage among the craggy caves of home. I've also given them a smaller set of midlegs for home construction - this is also what the spinnerets are for. I imagine the Green Stuff in the canon show would be replicated best by webbing here, and in my personal version of this, Changelings pad their homes with webbing for structural integrity, comfort, and possibly to help collect and funnel ambient magic to the Queen's chamber.

EDIT!!! Two things I forgot - A, this changeling is making herself bigger as a threat display, and B, the shredding on the forelimbs also helps to catch small prey for physical sustenance, although I imagine they're capable of eating plants as well

Edit 2 their hindlegs are like that to launch themselves into flight (if they even can fly. I imagine they rely on the jump a lot more than the flying part to move quickly)

#skyscraper gods #mlp #mlp changeling #dale draws

[mycolourfullworld]

35 years ago today, July 15, 1988, Die Hard premiered. It is a 1988 American action film directed by John McTiernan and written by Jeb Stuart and Steven E. de Souza, based on the 1979 novel Nothing Lasts Forever by Roderick Thorp. It stars Bruce Willis, Alan Rickman, Alexander Godunov, and Bonnie Bedelia, with Reginald VelJohnson, William Atherton, Paul Gleason, and Hart Bochner in supporting roles. Die Hard follows New York City police detective John McClane (Willis) who is caught up in a terrorist takeover of a Los Angeles skyscraper while visiting his estranged wife.

Stuart was hired by 20th Century Fox to adapt Thorp's novel in 1987. His draft was greenlit immediately by Fox, which was eager for a summer blockbuster the following year. The role of McClane was turned down by a host of the decade's most popular actors, including Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone. Known mainly for work on television, Willis was paid $5 million for his involvement, placing him among Hollywood's highest-paid actors. The deal was seen as a poor investment by industry professionals and attracted significant controversy prior to its release. Filming took place between November 1987 and March 1988, on a $25 million–$35 million budget and almost entirely on location in and around Fox Plaza in Los Angeles.

Expectations for Die Hard were low; some marketing efforts omitted Willis's image, ostensibly because the marketing team determined that the setting was as important as McClane. Upon its release in July 1988, initial reviews were mixed: criticism focused on its violence, plot, and Willis's performance, while McTiernan's direction and Rickman's charismatic portrayal of the villain Hans Gruber were praised. Defying predictions, Die Hard grossed approximately $140 million, becoming the year's tenth-highest-grossing film and the highest-grossing action film. Receiving four Academy Award nominations, it elevated Willis to leading-man status and made Rickman a celebrity.

Die Hard has been critically re-evaluated and is now considered one of the greatest action films. It is considered to have revitalized the action genre, largely due to its depiction of McClane as a vulnerable and fallible protagonist, in contrast to the muscle-bound and invincible heroes of other films of the period. Retrospective commentators also identified and analyzed its thematic concerns, including vengeance, masculinity, gender roles, and American anxieties over foreign influences. The film produced a host of imitators; the term "Die Hard " became a shorthand for plots featuring overwhelming odds in a restricted environment, such as "Die Hard on a bus". It created a franchise comprising the sequels Die Hard 2 (1990), Die Hard with a Vengeance (1995), Live Free or Die Hard (2007), and A Good Day to Die Hard (2013), plus video games, comics, and other merchandise. Deemed "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the United States Library of Congress, Die Hard was selected for preservation in the National Film Registry in 2017. Due to its Christmas Eve setting, Die Hard is also often named one of the best Christmas films, although its status as a Christmas film is disputed.

#die hard #bruce willis #celebrity #celebs #movie #action movies #action #christmas #christmas movies #xmas #vibes #good vibes #aes #aesthetic #aesthetics #style #lifestyle #mood #fashion #vogue

[hexonthepeach]

a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | 24: escort

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [23: regrets]

wc: 6.2k

warnings: none except mild misogyny/bigotry directed towards main characters, endless character introductions (but they're important, bear with me), the author's obvious disdain for one transphobic/homophobic idol in particular

recommended listening: ateez - silver light

You’d arrived at NeoTech HQ a shivering, frightened child–a domesticated creature stolen into a wilderness haunted by starved predators. 

You’ll leave in all appearances the same, but inside you’re something wilder and wiser, teeth sharpened on the bones of creatures much less threatening than you’d expected. Whatever you are to face together–or alone–in the upcoming night you hope you’ve left them just as hardened to survive.

Jungwoo escorts you down in the quiet elevator, uncharacteristically stiff and silent. It’s a welcome breather as the doors slide open to the 89th floor and the old corporation lobby–the massive landing port better able to handle the army that’s descended on the skyscraper. 

This castle is under siege, but the only prisoner is you.  

Your royal procession begins in a black tiled hallway lined with unfamiliar figures dressed in familiar Nyctos body armor, the green glow of their ID numbers separating them from the  helmeted NSMR and NSMP forces. 

You inspect them out of the corner of your eye, chin held up beneath the head-to-toe-veils secured under a headdress fixed in front of your exposed ears–borrowed artifacts from Taeyong to obscure your damp and unstyled hair, your ill-fitting Imperial robes. 

Outside on the landing are at least six AVs, not to mention the hulking cylinder of the Imperial aerostat, modeled after an ancient zeppelin from almost two centuries ago. This is a much less fragile ship than its ancestor but still it feels vulnerable and exposed perched on the long landing designed for it when the Lees had ruled.

The air buzzes with drones, occasionally shot down if they fail the security scans blinking from green to red--Jungwoo's skill written in their quiet capture by a more stealthy watchdog in the air hunting them down like a falcon released among a flock of pigeons. 

Every eye in NeoCity has turned to you tonight with the arrival of the aerostat, and so you must assume every unofficial and official channel has as well. 

This is the first time the world will see you since your debut. You are no longer wearing the white of traditional mourning but deep scarlet and black, embroidered in a flame-like bioluminescent thread in the shape of a tiger curled around you, hidden in the grass.

"My mother’s," Taeyong had said, placing your hand on the expensive digital weave where it was displayed on the wooden rack in his closet. It was always meant to be yours. You’d spared a moment to grasp his sharp cheeks in your grasp and pull him down–not for a kiss but to press your foreheads and noses together in a gesture of assurance.  

"For kin," you’d said.

"For country," he’d answered, sadly.

He's at your side in lockstep now, Doyoung on the other–Jungwoo following holding your train. They'd both been dressed within minutes of a needed scrubdown, though Taeyong's hair color change to solid black had taken longer. Jungwoo had been the one brought up from the chaos below to help you into your clothing, his gloved fingers careful as he tied your ribbons and braided your hair.

“Even if you are a queen I hope you remember us,” he said. “You belong here.”

“You trying to get on my good side?” you asked as he arranged your veil. You watched in the mirror as he selected your accessories–copper-toned to match the orange dusting of your black fur, rubies like blood set in the eyes of bowing foxes in the head dress flanking your ears.

“Never,” he said. “And neither should you. Show them hell.”

More easily said than done when you meet the crowd of arrivals on the tarmac, snowdrifts burnt to a mist by the rows of environmental controls disguised as flaming braziers. There’s the usual Syndicate corpos–suited men in thick fur coats and flashy AR glasses, their attache’s and staff orbiting around them at a safe distance. 

And then there is the Imperial entourage. 

The most important of them all is waiting for you, flanked by eunuchs in their dressage of Imperial plum, his suited personal guard looking far less anachronistic.

The last surviving Lee male heir of your parent's generation, if he'd been born for the crown. But no, your grandfather had never even bothered to name him after his first year, already disappointed in his progeny but this one most of all. Even if your grandmother had a name to call her precious son in private he was known by only one title to the rest of the palace, even the eunuchs he had assumed control of, and the few who knew of him in the world outside the Dome.

Tenth Prince.

He's veiled in black from his ancient-styled mongsu hat to his slippered toes, the thin rectangles of organza gusting in the wind around his willowy form, making him look more death god than man. It’s an intended effect that has you kneeling well before the distance taught to you by etiquette. 

The cold seeps into your knees as you wait, hearing the snap of his fan in your mind even though you’re sure he’s not holding one in this weather. That sound still makes you quiver any time you hear it, anticipating the pain of it thwacked across your palms or worse–the verbal lashing you were about to receive from its wielder. 

“Uncle,” you say, bowing to full supplication. “Thank you for making this journey.”

“We are honored, Uncle.” Taeyong does not kneel but you know he bows, deeply, offering his hand to you once he’s upright again. You ignore it, waiting.

“Rise,” Tenth Prince says, in that airy tone you recognize so well. “You make a mockery of piety by presenting yourself in such a sorry state.”

The laughter that follows from the others is a bit forced, but just as cruel as expected.

Snap. There it is, you think, letting Taeyong help you to your feet and catching a glimpse of the careful movement of your uncle’s always-present fan as he gestures away from himself dismissively, circling you with dangerous ease.

“No surprise you would be handed over a wreck after a week in this slum without the necessary servants. But I did not expect that you to appear like you’d been torn apart by wild dogs, in last decade’s fashion no less.”

The other eunuchs in his retinue laugh behind their sleeves. 

“My apologies, Uncle,” Taeyong says. “We had little notice that this would be a state affair.”

You wince, knowing what he’s walking into.

“The Princess Consort demands a tribunal and you do not have the wherewithal to recognize this is a matter of state?” Your uncle doesn’t have to raise his voice, just adding that knife’s edge of bored disdain.

“Perhaps that rut of yours has you cock-blind but do you not have advisees to steer your decisions? Or were they too busy taking advantage of a pack claim to think of formality.”

You know his words are targeted at Doyoung by the way the Lepid clears his throat, the start of something said cut off by an abrasive voice from the Syndicate contingent stepping in.

“Oh give your nephew and his little pets a break, Tenth.” Elder Choi steps in unceremoniously to clap Taeyong on the shoulder, dwarfing him in height. “Wouldn’t expect you to understand rut-brain.”

He leans down to the stiff ears of the Vulpine, pretending that no one else can hear. “Finally dipped your wick in something soft and pretty? Good boy.”

Taeyong has managed to look healthy but you watch illness pass over his soft features, shaken off with a twist of his rosy lips and a stiffer posture.

“We were thinking of the Princess’s safety. She’s still recovering from her first bloom.”

“Bloom? Right. The bitch is bred, hopefully.”

The Elder looks down at you as you curtsy, chiseled face leering at you with perfectly sculpted teeth. You had long grown to hate Choi Siwon and his buffoonish disregard for taste but especially in this moment you wish you could sink your teeth in his hand, watching him throw his arm around your mate.

“We had an opportunity tonight to finally meet as requested. Humor us, lad.” You watch, nauseated, as Taeyong is steered towards an oversized AV marked with the Park crest: a five-spoked wheel with a star at the center. The familiar face of the Park’s head greets you from a distance, mirrored, wrapped shades hiding the squinted eyes of another villain. 

But it’s not Elder Park who catches your attention or causes you to finally shiver against the cold. There, beside him is an entirely different cadre of devils, headed by a silver-haired doctor in a white peacoat with a friendly, foreigner’s face. He leans into the ear of another man you recognize in the high-necked, red uniform of the Imperial College of Medicine, both seeming to pierce through your veil to find your gaze across the roof.

“We’ve arranged for you to receive medical care prior to the tribunal, child. Try not to make a fuss like you do.” Tenth says.

You’re barely listening, chill set in completely as you and you alone are approached by the triage team. The Imperial doctor at their head strides towards you, tablet in his leather-gloved hands, silver round-rimmed frames perched on his delicate nose.

Here is the architect of your current misery, the man who has seen inside every cell of your body and every drop of blood. A hundred times on that table and he’d always been the one to greet you upon awakening, playing the role of kindly physician while only you knew the extent of his influence and crimes. Your panic is real at being approached, you don’t want your body to be invaded and dissected for the thousandth time.

A high-pitched whine escapes you, blocked from sliding backwards by Doyoung and Jungwoo both.

“No,” you whisper, falling down to your knees only to be bolstered by Jungwoo slipping his hand under your elbow. You make a show of flinching away. ”Please, no.”

“Courage.” Doyoung says, hand tensing around yours. 

The young doctor looks at you sympathetically, but you know better than to trust his soft face and mournful eyes. You hiss at him before he can come nearer. He pauses, hands folded in front of him, smiling shyly. 

“Who is he to her?” Jungwoo mutters, pulling you up.

“Her personal physician.” Taeyong answers.

“Doctor Qian,” Doyoung says, louder. “To what do we owe the honor?”

The physician bows respectfully to both you and your uncle.

“As the Jeong clan representative Doctor Reinholdt has conveyed the executive council's wishes to have a thorough examination conducted on the way to the designated meeting grounds,” the physician announces, soft voice lilted with his smile. 

Tenth Prince ‘s hat dips in your direction. “We allow it, as well as any necessary procedures to take place after the ceremony, when the matter of ownership has been conferred.”

Real panic sets in as you twist out of Jungwoo’s grasp, rounding on Doyoung.

“Wait,” you say. “Let me have a personal guard, please.”

Elder Choi laughs. Doyoung is startled by the request, looking to Taeyong.

“This pack is forfeit,” Tenth says, harshly. “Who exactly would you choose that would guarantee you where our forces could not?”

You bow your head. “I am still a part of Nyctos until the judgment is made. I would choose from the younger members.”

“What?” Mark stutters behind you, having arrived late. Unlike yourself and Taeyong he does not bow except to give a cursory nod to your shared uncle, looking regal in his military dress. He doesn’t have the sling now, hands tensing against the cold.

“Please, cousin.” You bow to him. “I request an escort from the recruits. Whoever you can spare.”

“You’re invalidated from choosing for her,” Tenth says, gesturing with his red-painted fan towards Mark. “Let her decide who she would prefer.”

“She hasn’t even met them–”

“No, I have not,” you say in a hushed tone, hand placed on his fleetingly. You turn to Taeyong, instead.

“Husband-to-be,” you state, coldly. You watch him look up, eyes lifelessly distant. “May I have two of your recruits as an escort?” 

Gone is the mate who’d buried himself in your breast, earlier–who’d kissed you so tenderly afterwards you’d thought you were his world. Here in the snow, uniformed in the red of his father’s army and draped in the medals of battles fought to undo your legacy, he’s again a stranger and potential enemy.

“For what? Hostages?” Taeyong asks, squinting. “Are you saying you don’t trust our clan's security?”

“Please. You have enough bodies to spare,” you state. “None of them will provide testimony for or against my charges but they can act as witnesses, if there is a question of my innocence. It’s only fair–” 

“Fair?” he laughs. “Didn’t get your claws into enough of my pack?” 

You wave him off dismissively, earning a surprised sound from a few of your audience. You were not showing the appropriate deference at all for an omega, a preview of what they could expect in the tribunal.

“Not Alphas, unless that’s all you have? In which case I'll just have to rely on my elders to protect me from that threat,” you state, submitting amidst laughter on all sides, Elder Choi’s the loudest. “Please. You owe me this courtesy.”

He hesitates before dipping his newly-darkened head, burning you through with his glare. “No Alphas.”

“You may have an escort,” Doyoung repeats his agreement, sighing at you. “Choose wisely.”

In a different world you’d have them both with you, and Taeil. You hadn’t seen the doctor yet, but you knew he'd be brought forth–unable to accompany you for the medical examination due to the nature of the claims brought against him.

You turn to see Mark’s wary but professional regard, his eyes darting over the shoulder of his dark blue double-breasted coat–unlike Taeyong, no badge or medal to adorn him.

“You sure about this,” he asks, softly. He’s innocent in this, you think–truly more fixated on the security of his pack than he is the regal procession and Syndicate army surrounding him. You bow to him, deeply. 

“Please, cousin,” you say, quietly. “For my safety, and yours.”

He nods, saying something into his agent. It buys you time, you think, as the space behind you adjusts to fill with bodies, the red-lit NSMR and NSMP giving way to other strangers marked with Nyctos’ green glowing badges.

You slowly walk across the rank and file, letting them see you in your regalia, the fiery cast of your robe illuminating half-masked faces. You scent each as you make your way down the disordered line, counting their rank.

15. Lee. A short Alpha with a shock of white hair, eyes curling into a non-threatening smile. He smells of wolf and something more domestic, kin in-between. 

“Hello Princess,” he says beneath his lower-face mask, painted in glowing white ink with the image of bared teeth. 

Pass.

17, Na. Taller, another Alpha. His designated scent has the industrial taint of a Prince genetically-engineered line, Felid crossed with sweet Lepid and even musty reptile. An anomaly.

“Gongjunim,” he bows, unable to stoop low enough.

Pass. 

12, Xiao. You meet eager eyes under thick brows; a Canid Alpha with the kindest look you’ve seen yet, better served for his short height and thick, gold-streaked black hair.

“Nice to meet you, Princess,” he says. You offer your hand to his upheld one, which he bows to before snatching his hand away, shyly.

Pass.

16, Hwang. Finally, a Beta, you think, looking into large dark eyes as they move from 12 to you. 

“Good to see you again,” he says, just as shy as the last soldier. “Did you like the ramen?”

“Hendery,” you say, a laugh and a sigh on your breath as you catch the bite of his familiar gunpowder cologne.

“Need a guard?” he asks. “I’m not an Alpha, right?”

“It’s a shame we've already met before,” you say, demurely. “Pass.”

You move on, aware he’s watching you more closely as you meet the eyes of the man beside him.

19. A Felid Alpha, through and through–but not one you can place. He smells a little like Haechan, you think–ozone and sand, shrinking down even more when you mark his narrowed eyes. Anxious, but not because he considers you a predator. You think if he considered you prey you’d already have been eaten.

“Do I upset you, little cat?” you ask.

“Don’t go with her,” he hisses to 20 at his side, who looks at you with wide eyes. A prey Alpha, you think, but hidden beneath layers of artifice–his size belying his gentle nature as he carefully sniffs over your ears through the covering over his nose and mouth.

“Are you the youngest here?” you ask, innocently.

He smiles, bowing, eyes folding into slim lines. “Yeah.”

Pass.

“Fourteen . . . and eighteen,” you state, pointing at the last two.

All heads turn to your quarry, innumerable sets of ears quirked to your voice but the last four ears fully visible in their placement atop the subjects’ heads–visibly hybrids, a fox and a cat.

“Hwang, Liu,” Mark orders behind you. “Attention.”

The last two recruits fold in front of you, bowing differently. There’s the Vulpine omega muttering at your feet, and an overeager bio-modded Beta, you think, based on how well his pale buff cat-ear sculpts flick and chase sound in his peach-colored hair.

“Your given names?” you offer.

“He’s Renjun,” the cat says, fluffy ginger tail flicking behind him as he pats the shorter Vulpine on the head. “Don’t mind him, he’s shy.”

“And you’re a fool,” Renjun says, morose.

“Well, yes, but the most beautiful omega in the world chose me for a bodyguard.” The Felid cocks his head, artificially slitted eyes flashing green in the dark. “Thank you, your majesty.”

You look at him quizzically. “Name.”

“Liu Yangyang. At your service.” He pulls down his mask, canines visible with the wide grin on his face under his arched nose. “You can trust me.”

You sigh, turning away.

“Fool indeed,” you repeat, picking up the train of your robe and holding it out to them. “Attend me in silence or I’ll kick you off the flight myself.” 

You feel the tug and draw on your robes as they find their places, Renjun more careful with his mission than Yangyang in following you with one hand on your train while the other deals with the newfound attention.

“Is this suitable?” You ask Taeyong. He glares at you, nodding before turning away. Doyoung answers for him, giving you a smidge of sympathy in his look.

“We’ll meet you at the site once we've secured the area, gongjunim. Don't hesitate to contact us through these two if there is an issue.”

“That won't be necessary,” your uncle snaps his fan again, turning to the aerostat. “She'll have the entire Imperial College to bear witness to whatever evidence we recover from her. Best prepare your arguments well.”

You follow him, head bowed, ears burning less from the nipping wind and more from the eyes that chase you, most of all the stares you can feel boring into you as you hide the trembling in your body, as you hold in a sob from wrenching the knot in your throat free.

This is no time to show vulnerability.

Kim Jungwoo [Chrysocyon brachyurus α, 219th in line for the Imperial throne]

Whatever happens, Taeyong had said, improvise. The pack leader and Doyoung are already hostages of the Choi-Park-Jeong contingent headed straight for the unnamed destination. Each AV had been pushed the coordinates mid-flight, anticipating a leak of the location as soon as the NeoTech building was taken without a single shot fired. 

He sensed the NSMP and NSMR squadrons were a bit disappointed in not having a more violent response, that need for a fight shared by the more aggressive recruits once they’d figured out what was going on. 

How convenient he and Jaehyun had rounded them all up for training beforehand, Johnny joining them well after the first breach of the old corporate welcome center to keep the more skittish recruits in line. It had given him a little pride to be one of the few informed of the visit beforehand, in order to mitigate a deadly response from security. No need for a Friday night firefight if they could avoid it–the Syndicate would relish any opportunity to make an example of them as unwilling subjects. 

Of course, this was already happening even now. His job, since the beginning of his conscription into Neo Seoul's most ragtag team of rejects and misfits, was to set a mood unseen. Domination through subversion, control by submission.

A hard task with the level of spectacle currently on display, at least 20 NSPD and NSMR AVs flying escort while in the distance spectator media craft ascend above the highest sky lanes to observe the unanticipated event.

Nothing stayed quiet in Neo Seoul for long. Best to use that fact towards their advantage, he thinks. Based on the direction of the flight path Haechan dips into with their own craft he's beginning to understand Taeyong's strategy, still feigning surprise for his small audience. 

“You knew we were going there, huh,” Haechan mutters over the in-flight communications channel, checking his controls. 

“Who? Me?” Jungwoo looks back from the co-pilot seat at the trio of Nyctos agents on board besides them: Mark and his own personal guard. 

“I want radio silence until we're on the ground,” Mark orders. He's been unusually tense since boarding, his new scent powerfully sharp in the enclosed space. His recruit commander Lee laughs, the sound low and dark above the hum of the ring blades.

“She's Kim property, is she not.” Na Jaemin looks up at Jungwoo with a hint of threat in his not-quite-right eyes, slitted like a venomous snake but so dilated they may as well be pits. He's an uncanny one, but not threatening whatsoever in Jungwoo's experience as much as patently bored.

There's a snap as the other Alpha besides Mark checks his automatic weapon. “Smelled like she was someone's property, alright.” 

“Silence,” Mark orders. For the first time in perhaps his entire career Lee Jeno ducks his head in submission at him, looking up guiltily from beneath his respirator mask. Good boy, Jungwoo thinks–not for the other Canid but his packmate flexing his claws. Mark had been taking to his newfound Alpha authority like he was born to it–of course he would, with that bloodline.

“That will take some getting used to,” Na laughs, folding his arms behind his headgear. “She make a man out of you, too?”

Jungwoo swears he hears Mark begin to growl over the comm before the AV pitches hard to the next level, sending gear sliding and throwing everyone out of their seat a bit. 

“We have clearance to land first,” Haechan says dryly. “Would have told you to hang on if the channel was clear.”

They dart down through the busy sky lanes of Zone 1, way clear and cordoned off by the advance efforts of Yuta and Jaehyun running the NSMP escort. As much as he wished he'd had either of them to help him for this next mission it was best that they were separated. Jaehyun's encrypted updates had been running background on his in-eye left lens since before they even launched. 

“Requesting permission for landing,” Haechan says, spewing out instructions over the rocky descent in a short span. They're not heading towards the lit arrival zone on the Lottery's roof but rather the executive hangar perched far below it. The shared space sits on an elevated platform stories above the walled and waterbound complex of the Magic pleasure houses and theme park, resplendent at night in deep red. 

It’s also the place he hates the most in all the world–his prison for as long as he could walk–laid out in its cheap pastiche of Old Goryeo while just across the bay the giant looming Dome obscures the true ancient city and its sheltered, spoiled residents. The Lottery is a damning indictment of the Kim family’s heritage–servants of the Imperial dynasty offering bodies and blood or both to the elite at a safe but accessible distance from their sanctuary. 

He remembers endless rooms and illusory stages. A new star every week, most of which were quickly extinguished. Tokens paid for in the billions slipped on to a table or into his own shaking hand for entry to a night's fantasy–a nightmare for him. He'd watched his mother and sister fall prey to whichever aspiring Alpha packlord or foreign corpo exec wanted to believe they were worthy of their company, sold to the highest bidder under the guise of proxy service when they were anything but. 

Never again, he thinks, keeping his face masked beneath his usual droll expression as they land the AV amidst a sparkling and multi-colored sea of custom and classic autodynes, that greedy and thankless audience always present at the Lottery.

Never again.

“This is ridiculous,” Renjun sighs, flopping into one of the antique chairs in your personal chambers as a small horde of silent artists attends to your appearance. “What are we waiting for?”

“I must be presentable,” you say.

You’d landed a half an hour ago but you’d been pampered since before takeoff, after begging for a proper grooming before your examination as you were shepherded into the sleek, elegant interior of the dirigible. Outside the windows the city skyline buzzes with activity, the Lottery’s roof providing a premium vantage to the inner Districts closest to the Dome.

Yangyang is enjoying the show from a seat beside yours at the vanity, flirting with the braver maids and going so far as to dare to purr when one of them concedes to styling his hair. Imperial wardrobes had been provided your new guard, looking a bit silly under their body armor until you'd requested they be replaced by Imperial projection shields. 

“This shield works without a port?” the cat asks, poking at himself with the sharper end of a comb without much response outside of a flicker of blue-green inches from his chest.

Your response is to snatch a pair of scissors from the table in front of you and stab Liu in the shoulder. 

“What the–!”

His reflexes are better than yours, you note, as the deadly point sinks into the emergent shield, inches from his raised, clawed hand, his other wrapped tight around your wrist. Once he’s realized it wasn’t a real attack you watch his silver-coated nails retract seamlessly into his skin, no blood whatsoever.

“It can stop a bullet,” you say. “Well, most. Supersonic projectiles, no. Speedware designed to account for the hardware reaction time renders it ineffective as well.”

“So not useful against a Sandevistan, then,” he winks at you with a green-touched eye.

“Try to minimize unnecessary use. It's incredibly wasteful on the battery life without a cyberdeck biosource,” Renjun explains before smacking his partner on the back of the head easily with the flat of his palm. 

“Ow!”

“Also not programmed for hand-to-hand combat,” you laugh, apologizing to the startled woman working on your veil placement. You'd kept the head-dress Jungwoo had chosen for you, those guardian foxes a comforting reminder that not everything on your body was by the Syndicate’s design.

“Why don’t you have a cyberdeck?” you ask the boy, once he’s finished refluffing his rosy hair around his tufted ears. “Your tech is Arasaka, isn't it?”

He shows those upper and lower fangs again in his broad, pink-gummed smile. “You recognize it? Well, not Arasaka, but a derivative. EEC subsidiary. It works on micro-muscle movements instead of implanted cyberware. Took me a long time to train my ears not to point in two different directions.”

He makes his point by demonstrating it.

You share a look with the Vulpine behind you in the mirror, his own orange-and gray ears pulling back from his ash-colored hair in hidden annoyance. You'd marked Renjun for vulpes at first until you'd seen his tail in better light, much sleeker and salt-and-pepper over the orange with a dark line down to its curled tip.

Urocyon cinereoargenteus, another genus altogether, you think, if still fox. He must have some forma amicus breeding to maintain a hybrid form. He smells of sage and soft lemon, a comforting musk that's already done wonders to calm the pounding of your heart in your chest in anticipation of what you'll experience tonight.

“Impressive,” you say, still looking at the other omega until he blushes and turns away. 

“Are you ready to be as alert when we land as you are now?”

“Born ready,” Yangyang says, sitting back in his chair nonchalantly. 

“You're worried about an attack on the Imperial family with this level of security?” Renjun asks.

“Yes,” you say, firmly. “There's not many of us left.” 

“You could have picked more experienced guards, then,” he sniffs, but you register the tiny quirk at the end of the grim set of his lips. Despite his disaffected demeanor he seems to like you. They both liked you. That would be very useful tonight.

“Style will always trump substance in these little plays,” you say. “I say we make a fairly picturesque matched set.”

“How do I look?” you ask, standing up finally with the tinkling sound of metal beading and chains. Your high-necked, long-sleeved gold dress coat hides you along with the customary sheer silk veiling around your mouth and styled hair. Still, you feel exposed under the gaze of the two men assigned to you, the maids leaving quickly as a staff of eunuchs take their place.

“Much better.” The musical voice of Tenth Prince only carries a fraction of approval. Your uncle inspects you, the red of his fan replaced with a deep black and gold field crossed by a manjusaka spider lily and a blue chrysanthemum. 

“Are you ready, now?” he asks. There's no time left to beg for, your eyes falling on the inscrutable round lenses of Doctor Qian behind him. 

“Born ready,” you say, bowing deeply. 

“You may proceed with the interview and examination.” Those slitted eyes beneath his veil blink slowly at you, colder than any Felid or family should ever be. “Make sure it's thorough.”

“You’re upset, your highness?” Duke Kim looks especially smug upon their arrival–not to a conference room but a chamber in the top third of the building, escorted through a labyrinth of private clubs and card tables. The upper floor casino levels are lavish but just as overwhelming as the public access floors, bright colored clouds of nicotine and the dredge of high-end champagne and whiskey unsuppressed by scent blockers. 

There were more discreet entrances but Taeyong knows that the Kim clan is making an effort to expose them all to an audience of foreign and local elite–many of them outside the Syndicate.

Tonight was about more than holding up the last of the Lee pack to the examination and judgment of their elders and peers. The Syndicate would receive its opportunity to assess them all, from nose-tip to tail, as his father used to say.

Nothing cements this more than their entrance into the meeting room–a richly furnished amphitheater adorned in Imperial palace-styled ornaments. One side, above the highest ranked booths, features an enormous gold guardian statue animated to appear as if alive. 

“This was supposed to be a privately witnessed negotiation. Not a full Syndicate tribunal,” Taeyong says, though it’s only for the Duke’s own amusement.

“Well didn't you say it yourself? Your bride's contract is a matter of state interest,” Duke Kim gloats, bowing slightly to welcome them into the wide chamber. The LED floor is currently dark, an ominous table placed in the center of a vast stage. 

This arena is the most expensive and secret of the bloodsport venues, fully stocked with matte black weaponry and caged in by a faint grid of green to block any projectiles, fittingly reminiscent of the Dome’s own shielding. Beyond in the plush seats of luxury booths their audience is barely visible outside of the occasional eye shine. Privacy screens block a few of the tables but neon signs mark their guarded entrances, clan seals and hanja glowing with the mixed colors of heritage. 

Every clan is in attendance besides the necessary representation from Kim and Lee, with a neutral body for judgment marked by Park, Jeong, and Choi. Those Elders had conveniently disappeared as soon as they landed ahead of the Imperial aerostat, Nyctos pack members shepherded into individual green rooms to be prepared for the show.

Taeyong waits as the others drift in behind him. Doyoung seems particularly grateful to see him, his usual suit replaced with the more appropriate uniform of loose-fitting pants and jacket, strips of low-light LED fabric coded already to match the red of Taeyong's royal dress uniform.

He pauses before he can reach him, face falling at a sight that has Taeyong turning to meet the newcomer before he even speaks.

“Glad to see your mongrels took advantage of our wardrobe department. NSMR gear isn't a popular look nowadays,” a projected voice announces as a shimmering white-suited Vulpine descends from the royal box.

“Gods, anyone but him,” Doyoung mutters, drowned out by light applause as their officiator enters the open ring. 

The fox is dressed in blinding, crystal-flecked white–a perfect match to his marbled blue-silver ears, iridescent color-shifting hair styled like flame on his head. It would be impossible to miss the public face of the Lottery and the Kim clan, not with his presence as overwhelming as Neo Seoul itself.

“Master of Ceremonies Kim-sshi,” Jungwoo bows awkwardly before being shaken like a tree by the smaller man. 

“Not uncle? Ungrateful brat.” The elder swats him on the back for good measure. “Shouldn’t be surprised it took extraordinary circumstances for you to introduce me to your pack. Shame you never took me up on a private show.” 

“Master Key,” Taeyong acknowledges, nodding his head. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

“Never thought I'd see the day this pup would be in the ring. Go easy on him for my sister’s sake, may she rest in peace,” Key says to Taeyong, looking past him and up, up, up at Johnny. “This your famous enforcer?” 

“Indeed,” Taeyong says.

“Pleasure,” Johnny says, adopting an easy posture after inspecting the room. Taeyong notes he's rejected the provided jacket, physique on display under his sleeveless, body-conforming shirt. “Quite the set-up here. Will this be broadcast?” 

Doyoung clears his throat, flicking his head at Johnny. “Of course not. This is a private Syndicate affair.”

Jungwoo laughs involuntarily.

“I guess that's our answer,” Yuta says, joining them. "Who knew contract disputes could be so entertaining."

Key nods, hands spreading wide as he continues to assess Johnny. “You look the part. Try to keep your mouth shut. Don't want to ruin the illusion that you aren't just a brute.”

“Am I missing something?” Johnny asks, eyebrows raising.

“That's more like it.” Key sighs. “Did you leave these strays in the dark deliberately or should I give you the run-down in lieu of a rehearsal?”

“By all means,” Taeyong sighs, gesturing to his ears. 

Key disables his mic, producing a small device easily recognizable as a short-range scrambler before it disappears just as quickly into his decadent jacket. 

“Someone with a clear agenda leaked the details of your contract dispute and now not only does your little domestic affair have a vested interest as entertainment, our beloved dimwit of an Elder convinced the board to make it a staged event." Key rolls his eyes, pretending to smile at the man past Taeyong's shoulder, thankfully well outside of the scrambler's range.

"In exchange for hosting our clan was granted rights to the bookmaking contract for live betting, I imagine,” Doyoung adds.

“I’m guessing we won’t see a cent of that, ourselves.” Yuta remarks. 

Key shrugs. “If you make it out alive there might be a reward in it for you. Sponsorship, most likely. You don’t strike me as the type to sell yourself, though.” If Yuta registers the MC’s meaning, he doesn’t show it. 

“What are the odds currently?” Doyoung asks.

“Your faction is the clear draw, with a few notable exceptions. Park and Choi specifically are backing your cousin as an underdog, with the potential for a massive payout.” The last is addressed to Taeyong.

“Good,” Taeyong says, feeling a little relief at the news. It directly counteracts the conversation he and Doyoung had been forced into in Park’s AV–where the junta had made all assurances he would not lose this battle either legally or through force. 

“Wish I could bet against myself, too,” Jungwoo jests. 

“Then make sure your friends on the outside vote for the blue team,” Key says, nodding at Mark inspecting the weaponry nearby while Haechan and Jaehyun observe quietly. 

“Blue team?” Johnny scoffs a bit. “You make it sound like we're participating in a sport.” 

Key’s grin is dangerous, if still approving. “Well we expect one death match, at least. Of course I would never advise you and you can decide how far you want to take it but it would be quite lucrative for you depending on how much blood is spilled.”

“We're not interested in bloodshed,” Mark says, joining them. “Or money.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yuta mutters with a laugh. 

“Was this circus your idea?” Johnny rounds on Doyoung. 

“It was mine,” Taeyong drawls, crossing his arms. It catches Johnny off-guard, his fists opening immediately as he takes a step back.

“This was never going to be kept in-house with ____ involved. It was in Nyctos’ favor to get ahead of it.”

“I'm not participating in this ridiculous farce,” Johnny says, hunching down to glare in the Vulpine's unreadable face. 

“You think you have a choice?” Taeyong's ears flatten, stance maintained.

“Great work, keep that energy going for green light,” Key says, waving and backing out. “May I suggest that if any of you wish to side with the Princess Consort in this event you code yourself gold.” 

He taps his finger against the clan crest on Jungwoo's lapel to cycle through the color strips on his uniform, landing on a rich yellow. “A suitable shade for jealous cowards uncommitted to their pack leaders.”

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[knightprincess]

Jealous (Hunter x Fem! Reader)

Apart of the @cloneficgiftexchange​, For @angelltheninth​.  Words: 3.5K Warning: Teasing, Jealousy, implied sexual activity (if you squint)

:readmore:

79's had always been the place to be for clones looking for a good time when visiting Coruscant. Many had told stories about their nights there since the war had started so many moons ago. Drunken moments of clumsiness, slurred compliments to the never-ending stream of beautiful bar hoppers, and even pranks and never-ending mischievous antics had taken place at the club. So when given the chance Wrecker had dragged each of his brothers there, for a night of fun and drinking. Tech had been enthusiastic about going, mentioning a hypothesis he wanted to try out. Crosshair and Hunter on the other hand wanted nothing more than a quiet evening in the barracks. An evening Wrecker with the help of Tech was determined to deny the pair of them. 

If only Hunter had known, that night he'd meet (Y/N). 

The night had started out quietly enough when the squad known as the Bad Batch arrived, it was before the peak times. Only a few were there, the odd Twi'lek waiting for the night to go on, a few groups of people celebrating something or anticipating the night of fun. Some other clones were there too, a few Captains and Commanders in the booth furthest from the bar, partly shrouded in shadow. Commander Cody was among them. 

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, Hunter had become a little overwhelmed, his senses being overstimulated by the strobe lights, loud music, and the constant scent of alcohol and arousal. The Sergeant had tried his best to ignore the headache beginning to build, offering a brotherly grin upon noticing Tech surrounded by a group of women as if he'd gained his very own fan club. Wrecker's attempt to flirt drew a chuckle from Crosshair, as the sniper shook his head and offered an apology to the beautiful woman the bigger softy had accidentally offended. Even Hunter had chuckled to see the antics the captains and commanders from earlier in the night got up to in their drunken state. Listening to the stories Cody told about the time they'd each taken upon themselves to confuse their Jedi Generals. Even how General Plo had gone along with it. 

"I'm gonna get some air" announced Hunter, when Crosshair returned to the booth. The sniper had given him a look of concern, but nodded nonetheless, offering to accompany him. An offer Hunter had rejected, insisting his brother enjoy himself and continue with his efforts at winding up Commander Wolffe. Something very few would attempt to try with the battle-worn commander. It was only when Hunter stepped outside and the cool air rushed over him did he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. The pounding in his head stopped, much like the flashing behind his eyes did. His golden eyes took in the view of Coruscant before him, how the skyscrapers different in size, all lighting up like Christmas trees, all glowing, the many vehicles passing by creating a steady rainbow-colored stream. The music from the club offering small vibrations and dulled musical rhythms. 

It was only when Hunter had taken a few steps away from 79's and towards the barrier preventing patrons from falling from the edge. Did he crash into someone? At first, he'd been too stunned to realize what happened, the small yelp to escape the other person hadn't even registered, even less so when Hunter's senses had been overtaken by the sweet scent of jasmine and aloe vera. Only when he shook his head did he notice the smaller woman on the ground before him, looking just as shocked as him. She quickly scrambled to pick her small sparkling bag up from the ground and the contents of it, to have flooded the area around her. Words of apology flew from her painted lips, as she rushed to apologize. Her eyes with a range of emotions flooding through them as she refused to look at Hunter out of embarrassment. 

"It was my fault" were the first words Hunter managed to form, taken aback by her beauty. As he attempted to burn her image into his mind, recognition soon hit him. He has seen her before, at the military base there on Coruscant. She was one of the many civvi recruits apart of the GAR. He last caught a glimpse of her a few hours prior, all but dragging Commander's Wolffe and Cody somewhere, gently guiding Captain Howzer along as well. All three men had been resisting a little but complying as if they knew it was pointless to argue back with her. "You're (Y/N), one of the medics at the base" spoke Hunter, his voice croaky, as if he couldn't believe his luck to finally meet the woman famous among the clones. 

(Y/N) had nodded, confusion appearing in her eyes, as she tried to determine if she'd treated him before for an injury. She never forgot the faces of her patients even if most of them had the same one. She always remembered their names and the little things that made each so different. It soon dawned on her when she had come across Hunter, he'd been at Crosshair's side when he'd been sent for a check up, upon returning from a grueling battle. The sniper had been complaining of a pain in his neck for some time, although Crosshair had laughed it off, saying it was coursed by having to save his brothers so often. 

"Sergeant Hunter" replied (Y/N), sweeping some loose strands of her freely flowing hair behind her pierced ear. Her eyes glowed with recognition. Although they'd never personally met, she knew him from the stories Cody told of Clone Force 99, from the missions they shared together. Hunter merely shook his head upon hearing his military rank, even more so when it slipped from the lips of such a beautiful woman. The stories he'd heard hadn't done her justice, to Hunter and likely many others, she was equal to that of a goddess with the ability to heal those who needed it. 

"Going inside?" asked Hunter, slightly scolding himself for how shaky his normally smokey voice sounded. (Y/N) merely shook her head, gesturing instead to the area the air taxis normally came and went from. Only now did Hunter, notice her eyes glistening with unushered tears, it being clear something had hurt her, even when she tried her best to hide it behind her sweet smile. Hunter had been about to ask what happened, to offer to escort her home as any gentlemen would, when the doors to the bar flew open, Wolffe all but stalking out, grumbling about something, Crosshair following behind as if he was a fanboy of the strict commander, ignoring the growls rumbling from Wolffe. 

(Y/N) couldn't help the laugh to escape her. Her failure continued when she attempted to be quiet. Wolffe merely rolled his eyes as he normally did, shaking his head mere seconds later before turning to face his latest follower. The sternest look on his lips. Although it appeared as if Crosshair was ignoring it, even when it was clear the sniper wasn't as intoxicated as he acted. 

"No throwing people off the edge" called (Y/N), as she returned her attention back to hailing a taxi. Turning back in time to see Wolffe playfully salute her. She hadn't heard Wolffe growl at Hunter to take care of her and ensure she arrived back at her apartment safely. Nor had she seen Hunter nod in confirmation before jogging to catch up. Instead, she had simply assumed he was being a gentleman, as many of the clones were. 

The taxi ride had been short, an almost awkward quietness falling between them. The only sounds were the squeaking sounds from the leather seats and the rambles of the drive. Although Hunter had been sure his thunderous heartbeat had been the loudest thing. Even more so upon feeling it beat harder at the closeness. The taxi was small, so (Y/N) and himself had been squished together. Her small thighs pressed together, as she attempted not to intrude on his personal space. Her hands rested in her lap, to ensure her fingers didn't accidentally brush against him or make their current predicament any more uncomfortable than it already was. 

In Hunter's intoxicated state, he'd allowed himself to become lost in her sweet-smelling scent. The jasmine and aloe vera became like a drug to him, yet at the same time he resisted the urge to move closer and bury his nose in the crook of her neck. Surely Wolffe would hunt him down should he do anything that made her uncomfortable or hurt her. Even the blind could see the Commander like so many others was protective of her. Relief washed over the Sergeant the moment the taxi stopped, (Y/N) kindly paid and thanked the talkative driver, all but dragging Hunter out with her to prevent an unnecessary round trip. If only she knew what her soft touch did to the man in her grip. 

The steady walk to the apartment hadn't helped Hunter with his self-control. (Y/N) quiet as she lead the way, her smile smoothing, although the silence had become more comfortable between them. At first, Hunter had been resistant about entering the apartment building, stating he only wanted to ensure she was safe, almost as if he could still hear Wolffe's growls in the back of his mind, threatening him not to try anything or press his luck. (Y/N) had been insistent he come inside, using the excuse it was a safe place for him to lie his head and rest for the night, instead of trusting his drunken mind to get him back to the barracks in one piece. 

Upon entering (Y/N)'s apartment, Hunter was almost instantly overwhelmed with a vanilla scent, mixing with wild lavender. Although the lights were dim, he could make out the layout. They'd entered a small hall, a greyish durasteel door to the right, another a little further down to the left. At the end was an opening, (Y/N) lead him through, revealing a living room with access to a small golden balcony, the room was small but comfortable with a simple layout. A small library area in the dark nook of the room, next to another greyish door. Without a word and with (Y/N)'s direction, Hunter flopped down on the plush sofa, the sensation he was sinking into the cushion slowly entering his mind, yet he didn't dare pay it any attention. 

Instead, his golden eyes clung to (Y/N) as she gently placed her jacket over the back of one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Her handbag with it. Before she waltzed into the kitchen to retrieve something, her hips swinging slightly as she did so. Only now did Hunter really take notice of (Y/N), the glittery dress short but also modest and hugging her figure, making her appear as if she was a model of some kind, the boots she wore reaching just above the knee, they had glittery decorations to match her dress. Appearing as if they'd been added at some point and not actually part of the boot's original design. 

Hunter soon managed to drag himself from the sofa, being sure not to crash into anything or knock anything over. Slowly he made his way through the door (Y/N) had entered through mere moments before. Only to realize it was a neat kitchen, appearing as if it had never been used, despite the items scattering across the surface. (Y/N), was across the small room, a glass in hand under the running tap, a small box next to her on the counter. She hadn't heard him coming nor been aware he was there until she turned, almost dropping the glass of water in her hand. Hunter surprised himself with his quick movement, catching the glass before it shattered against the cold tiled floor. (Y/N) offered a small smile before putting something in the glass and turning Hunter back towards the living room. Ensuring he got there safely before gesturing him to drink. 

"Are you and Wolffe dating?" asked Hunter, surprising even himself those words had left his lips. He didn't dare look at (Y/N), afraid of how she would react to his question. Instead, the Sergeant occupied himself with looking around the apartment, seeing little keepsakes, ornaments, and a few photos displayed around the room, even the book (Y/N) had been using to study on the coffee table between them. Hunter found relief to see none of the pictures displayed her with anyone in a romantic way. If anything, the people in the photos seemed to be friends and family members, the people she loved but didn't see often due to her work and other life stuff. 

A small laugh to escape (Y/N) drew Hunter's attention back to her. Instead of the anger and judgment, he'd expected her to display. Her eyes lit up with amusement, a small grin threatening to form on her lips, as she continued her fight against it and whatever had tickled her thoughts. She must have seen his confusion, as she simply looked away as she attempted to regain her calm composure. As she did Hunter returned to looking around the living room, any sign that Wolffe stayed there during his time away from the battlefield. Yet found nothing, a sense of relief washing over him as he attempted to push away the jealousy. 

"I don't need to be a Jedi to sense your jealousy, Sergeant" commented (Y/N) with a teasing tone to her voice. Yet she couldn't help but imagine Wolffe's reaction to the suggestion the pair were in a relationship. He'd give himself an aneurysm just thinking about it, although it would make for a good ongoing and likely inside joke between them. Hunter soon sat up a little straighter, upon her softly spoken all be it teasing words reaching him. Had he been that obvious? Or was she just good at reading those around her as if they were open books? Only as Hunter did another sweep of the objects decorating the room, did he see the wooden carving of a wolf, the same one that adorned the armor of Wolffe and the other members of the famed Wolf Pack. He felt his heart sink upon seeing it, (Y/N) soon turned to where he was staring chuckling once more upon realizing where his mind had jumped to. 

"I'm not jealous" retorted Hunter, trying to cover his growing envy. Suddenly he found he was jealous, if only he'd met her before Wolffe had, then maybe she'd be his instead. Once again (Y/N) laughed, as if she could read his mind, although she made no move to get closer to him, instead she allowed his mind to wander just a little more before settling it completely. 

"The carving is from Boost. A thank you for leaving Wolffe speechless" explained (Y/N), proving the carving had been from another member of the Wolf pack. A reminder of the inside joke they shared during her time serving as a medic for the 104th Battalion, still to this day the memory never failed to bring a smile to her lips. "And your assumptions are incorrect, Wolffe and my relationship is more like siblings, he's protective of me as he is for the rest of the Wolf Pack" explained the medic, trying her hardest to suppress the giggle threatening to escape her lips, as reality dawned on Hunter. How he'd misinterpreted everything so easy and worked himself into a jealous wreck for nothing. 

"Good" replied Hunter quickly, once again surprising himself with the tone of his voice, how strong and commanding it was. He barely recognized it was his own voice. Quickly his attention returned to (Y/N) who didn't move nor showed any reaction toward his response, all she did was raise an eyebrow at him. "Because you're mine" he added with authority in his voice. He soon found the confidence to move closer to (Y/N), gently pulling her towards him. He felt the confident wave grow now he knew she wasn't tied to Wolffe in any way other than friendship. The moment she was resting on his lap, his lips pressed to hers in a soft kiss. He'd expected her to push him away and scold him for his drunken actions yet she didn't. Instead, her hands reached toward him, Hunter had thought her fingers would be tangled in his hair within seconds, so was surprised to hear the familiar click of his armor being disconnected. 

"You'll sleep better without it on" softly commented (Y/N), a caring tone to her voice. Hunter didn't argue, instead closing his eyes as he felt her soft touch, feeling the burning sensation that lingered behind. A sigh left his lips upon feeling the weight of his armor be lifted, although he never heard a single piece of his armor clunk against the floor. He opened his eyes to find (Y/N) had carefully placed each piece with his discarded helmet on the comfy-looking chair, the one with a fluffy blanket strewed across it. He couldn't explain the sudden wave of self-consciousness to wash over him now he was free of his armor, on instinct he folded his arms across his chest, looking anywhere but at (Y/N) in front of him. 

Hunter wouldn't admit it, but like all his clone brothers, he was touch starved. Something he doubted (Y/N) was in the dark about. He admired Cody who so freely greeted her with hugs upon seeing her again, just as others who had built a friendship with her did. He'd heard others talk about her kindness and how she treated them as people rather than Kaminoan property. She cared for each one to enter her little office for medical attention. The sergeant was brought from his trans-like state upon feeling a fluffy cushion bounce off the side of his head and shoulder, a light-hearted chuckle followed from across the room. It soon registered to Hunter, she'd thrown the feather pillow at him. Offering him more comfort for the night than his bunk in the barracks would. 

A playful grin soon appeared across Hunter's lips, with a burst of energy he lifted the light pillow to the side and moved from the plush sofa. Within moments he was before her again, an arm around her waist in a way similar to how one would entrap their lover. Still, she had caught him unawares. Despite being able to catch her in the playful game of cat and mouse, despite having her pressed against him. She still managed to get the blanket over his head before his lips could connect with hers again. She was playing with him, although he wondered if she knew what she was doing to him, how his body now yearned for her, especially now when she was so close. 

Stepping back Hunter felt the back of the plush sofa against the back of his thighs, although he realized too late to do anything to stop himself from falling over it. (Y/N)'s playful and shocked yelp of surprise as she was pulled over the back of the sofa with him filled the room. His arms still locked around her waist, rendering her chances of escape to impossible. Not that she wanted to go anywhere. With another chuckle she pulled the warm blanket from Hunter's head, not being able to stop herself from giggling at his messy and now static-filled hair. Just as she couldn't ignore the lust making his golden eyes darker. He wanted her and made no attempt to hide it or his intentions. 

Without a second thought Hunter's lips found their way to the side of her neck, leaving sloppy kisses as he trailed up, a smirk appearing on his lips upon hearing her moan from the contact. Instead of connecting their lips in a fiery passion-filled kiss, Hunter instead decided to return to the spot on her neck, sucking slightly as he allowed his hands to roam over her body in an effort to memorize every curve. A moan of his own escaped the moment her cool hands found their way beneath the top of his blacks, roaming over his toned abs and chest. 

"I love it when you kiss my neck" whispered (Y/N), as another moan escaped her. She felt her body heat up, as Hunter's hands roamed lower, grazing against her thighs, although he quickly pulled it away, as if embarrassed where he'd roamed. (Y/N) on the other hand pulled him from her neck, a passion burning in her eyes, making them darker than they naturally were. A wicked smile accompanied the lust, as she pushed him back, before reaching down to unzip her boots. Hunter almost pined for her to return her hands to their former place on his chest. "Catch me if you can Sergeant" teased (Y/N), as she quickly got up from the plush sofa and made for the grey-ish door near the library nook. Another sweet but playful giggle escaped her as she did so. Hunter wasted little time in jumping up, following along behind her, making a mental note to get her back for the teasing later on. But for now, he was happy to play along and surrender to her and the obvious overstimulation to come with the night of lust and passion. 

Masterlist

#sargent hunter #tbb hunter #hunter bad batch #fem reader #x reader fanfic #reader insert #reader #star wars fanfcition #hunter x fem!reader #star wars oneshot #cross posted on ao3 #cross posted on wattpad #cross posted on quotev

[prohibitionprincesses]

Feibo Girl

For much of China, the phrase “Roaring Twenties” may have a less jovial meaning. While the U.S. is in the middle of its Jazz Age, China is in the middle of its Warlord Era. The end of the Qing Dynasty has seen China is split into waring fractions called cliques, with those living in the country suffering the worst violence. It’s an especially dangerous time to be a woman.

Fortunately, the Fa family lives in Shanghai, where the wars usually aren’t as close, and women’s rights are blossoming. Heavy with Western influence, the neon-lit city is “the cosmopolitan Paris of the East.” It’s an even blend of old and new. Ancient-looking ships sail past modern skyscrapers, and pedestrians push wooden carts next to buses and trollies. [Link] It’s a good thing the women of Shanghai have more opportunities, because the warlords impose high taxes on their people, and ill veteran Fa Zhou can no longer work. His wife brings in some money sewing trendy qipaos, but it’s not enough to cover necessities and the warlord’s taxes. So Mulan takes it upon herself to save her family from financial ruin.

She first tries getting a job at a cabaret called the Lucky Cricket. Her mother and grandmother help give her the makeover needed to transform Mulan into a winking Feibo Girl—a Chinese flapper. Then, hesitantly, Mulan bobs her hair using a long, sharp family heirloom. But despite her best efforts, Mulan’s clumsiness clashes with the cabaret owner’s inability to listen, resulting in a show that entertains everybody for all the wrong reasons. While the patrons laugh wildly and snark that the performer is “on fire,” the literally inflamed owner loudly fires Mulan.

Ashamed, Mulan sits in the family’s garden, deep in thought. Near an opened window, Grandma belts out to American jazz on the radio. Grandma’s dance session is interrupted by an announcement from Dr. Sun Yat-Sen, a political and military leader seeking to reunite China and put an end to the warlords. He is recruiting soldiers for what he calls “the Northern Expedition.” Mulan—athletic, strategic, crafty, and often mistaken for a boy—perks at the announcement.

Since Mulan has already been bobbing her hair and binding her breasts per Western flapper fashion, all she really needs is a fake name. She enlists in the National Revolution Army under the alias “Ping.” Joining her are a tiny dragon sent by her ancestors, and the mascot from the Lucky Cricket. Training with both swords and machine guns, “Ping” initially causes some mayhem (thanks in no small part to pranks from her comrades). But by the time the troop boards the train out to their first battle, Ping is one of the most promising recruits Captain Li Shang has ever seen. Control of the railways is crucial to the warlords’ power, and most battles are fought near tracks. While squeezed onto the train and speeding through the country, the soldiers’ songs about girls worth fighting for are punctuated with harrowing scenes of massacred villages. They pull to a stop at a town that’s been burned to the ground, where Li Shang’s father lies among the dead. This is not the work of just any warlord. This was the infamous “Dog-Meat General,” Zhang Zongchang. A particularly ruthless and incompetent ruler, Zongchang is the most feared of China’s warlords. Mulan’s ingenuity leads to the troop’s first major victory, when she creates an avalanche that buries Dog-Meat’s most important railroad—with most of his troops still onboard. While in the infirmary, Mulan’s true sex is revealed. At first, Shang and the other men don’t know how to feel. But it turns out that a woman may be exactly what they need in their next move against Zongchang. The Dog-Meat General has a harem of 30-50 women, who are assigned numbers because he can’t remember their names. And he forgets their numbers. The guy is just asking for this infiltration. Mulan’s experience at the Lucky Cricket cabaret is now inviable. She drills the men on how to dress and act like attractive ladies, and the operation is soon underway.

Ling, Yao, and Chien Po giggle behind their fans as Zongchang boasts of his supposedly enormous masculinity. Meanwhile, Mulan and Shang quietly move to free the captured Dr. Sun Yat-Sen. Along the way, they rescue another prisoner, from Zongchang’s kitchen; the Dog Meat General’s name has several possible meanings, but he does indeed enjoy certain canine dishes. Mulan saves an energetic pup from the butcher, and names him Little Brother. Though not the brightest pooch in the word, Little Brother sniffs out Sun Yat-Sen’s holding cell.

Back at the harem, it’s time for the next phase of the plan. This requires the drag-queens to take out some guards, which means another distraction is needed. Luckily, the Dog-Meat General also fancies himself a poet. Mushu and the cricket take over the job of distracting him, by claiming to be his new typists.  Cri-Kee hops from ink to paper, taking down what the Dog Meat General dictates, while Mushu observes. The finished poem reads: You tell me to do this,

He tells me to do that. You're all bastards, Go fuck your mother.

"Poem about bastards" by Zhang Zongchang[b]

Instead of applause, this poem is followed by an explosion of fireworks detonating all around his military base. Mulan has finally destroyed Zongchang’s army beyond salvaging. The Dog-Meat General himself is killed by an officer avenging his father; Li Shang blows his smoking pistol with satisfaction. Shang follows Mulan back to Shanghai, where they begin a new life together in a unified China.

AN: This picture came out looking very similar to the design that Jacquelynn Harris gave Mulan in her Disney flapper series. I assume this is because we both based the outfit on Mulan’s matchmaker attire, and her hair on actress Anna May Wong. The background border is clipart.

On the story: In the old version of my Disney flapper series, I set all the stories in the U.S. Someone suggested that I look at non-Western fashion from the era, and I dismissed the idea, ignorantly assuming that the Roaring Twenties only happened in the West. This time around, I decided to check if anything interesting was happening in China in the 1920s…and wow, what a rabbit hole! So many things fit so perfectly with Disney’s version of Mulan, especially with that bizarre Zongchang character. I’d never personally create an Asian villain with “dog meat” in his name, but the Dog-Meat General is one of those “can’t make this sh-t up” historical figures. Of course I took liberties with how the history actually played out, as Disney often does; but all of the personal traits described, from the numbered harem to the literal dog meat to that poem, were real. And yes, he was killed by an officer avenging a relative.  To anyone so inclined, here are a couple of incredible time-capsul videos from China in around this time period.  Up the Wangpoo River to Shanghai (1920s)  A video with sound and color from 1929

#prohibition princesses #disney flappers #fa mulan #mulan #1920s #roaring twenties #feibo girl #flapper #china #chinese #chinese new year #qipao #cheongsam #sun yat sen #zhang zongchang #dog-meat general #chinese history #disney princess #digital art #fan art #art #roaring twenties au #feather boa #dragon #year of the dragon #shanghai #cabaret #warlord era #warlord #asia

[andrewmannequin]

Skyscrapers Walk Among Us - My Best Friend Is Now My Worst Enemy

#Skyscrapers Walk Among Us #metalcore #post hardcore #hot topic #hot topic 2000s #emo #hardcore punk #deathcore #deathcore classic #emo kid #emo scene #live performance

[elbiotipo]

some stuff that inspires me when I write the Biopunks, in no particular order:

Argentine and Latin American memory: the weight of everything that came before us, all our victories and struggles, dictatorships, crises, revolutions and democracies. The characters are young, and yet they are defined by things that happened decades before they were born.

60s-70s counterculture: revolutionary students and hippies, the connection between ecology (bioengineering in this case) and spirituality, self expression in a repressive culture, the hope for a better world, for the world revolution... and how it all faded away and the legacy it left behind (papá cuentáme otra vez...)

Argentine Rock: A bit too wide since it covers everything from Te Hace Falta Vitaminas to Inconsciente Colectivo, but every chapter is titled after an Argentine rock song, it's intended to be the soundtrack.

Pirates of Silicon Valley: the movie yes, but more accurately the whole PC revolution, the dichotomy of open vs. closed source (in genomes this time), hacker (biohacker) culture, the rise of megacorporations vs academia vs subcultures... but this time it's genetics...

Neon Genesis Evangelion: for real, don't laugh. Exploring what they didn't talk about much: what is a world with billions dead? Ruined flooded cities contrasted with bright futuristic buildings, the UN taking over after a worldwide catastrophe with helicopters patrolling the skies, the contrast between high technological infrastructure and a mostly normal life.

Argentine fútbol: the canchita de barrio, even if it's a biotech club this time! Competition among institutes and among countries, the bioclub as a nexus for young people, pride on the camiseta, old glories, the joy of winning for your team... even if it's a bunch of nerds, it's really a story about a team on the C Nacional who wants to revive its old glories...

Art Nouveau: Not exactly the one from the early XX century, but the main art style everywhere. There were never real Art Nouveau skyscrapers and major buildings, now they are everywhere, and they are complemented and even made of biotechnology too, and how it contrasts with the sharper, more practical style of the post-Ecocide world.

Transhumanism: trascending the human form yes, but also all that's associated with it: the deep view of humanity's future, the potential of technology to change the nature of Homo sapiens and the biosphere itself, space colonization, inmortality, AIs and new sentient species, things that looked like fantastic dreams now are practical problems as technology advances...

Enviromental restoration: The world is not over, not if we have anything to say about it! A healing Earth and the scientific, technological, but also social, political and even spiritual debate on what shape should it take. Whole armies of people dedicated to regrowing forests, cleaning oceans and recovering wastelands, and what does it mean for a society which adopts an almost warlike approach to enviromental conservation and restoration.

Argentine Academia: of course, since I'm on it. The eternal stress of writing grant plans and struggling with your director, trying to make the best of your little funding, making your obsolete equipment to last as long as possible, and managing great things with it.

#cosas mias #soft biopunk #cuando digo que básicamente estoy escribiendo un mundo post-2001 pero En El Futuro no exagero demasiado

[dailyanarchistposts]

The White Revolution: Dictatorship and Uneven Capitalist Development

By joining the pro-western military alliance CENTO (also known as the Baghdad Pact) in 1955, Iran had made itself a key ally in the Western camp. In the early 1960s, the example of the Cuban Revolution led to a shift in the policy of US imperialism. The new Kennedy administration encouraged certain countries to carry out reforms that, it was believed, would promote capitalist development while also undercutting the threat of social revolution. As a result, there was a relative relaxing of the repressive environment, in the midst of which a resurgence of political activity occurred. The outcome was the White Revolution of 1963.

The idea was that by widening the popular base of the regime the state could also disrupt its opposition by incorporating elements of their program. Ironically, it was the results of these reforms that, by opening a period of rapid and uneven capitalist development, most directly set the stage for the Revolution.

Although designed to widen the base of support for the state, the new reforms were met with mass demonstrations that turned violent. The left supported the measures all the while opposing the dictatorial nature of the state, while the clergy were intransigent in their total opposition to the reforms, especially land reform, which threatened its land holdings, but also reforms to the status of women and minorities. The opposition to the reforms brought about a popular uprising led by the clergy (in particular Ayatollah Khomeini) and which was swiftly put down with extreme violence and repression, resulting in many killed and imprisoned. While leftists and democrats had different reasons than the clergy for opposing the regime, the 1963 uprising announced the possibility of some kind of alliance between them. Differences blurred in the name of a united front — in this, it could be seen as a “dress rehearsal” for the 1979 revolution.

The most dramatic policy of the White Revolution was land reform. The land reform program effectively ended feudal relations in Iran and replaced them with capitalist relations. The power of the landlord was replaced with that of the state. Yet it would be wrong to think that the aristocracy was disenfranchised. The feudal landlords still benefited from such developments, provided that they were willing to become capitalists. Landlords that mechanized and hired wage labor, or rented to US agribusiness, were able to keep their estates. Other landlords found ways to hold on to the best quality land while redistributing that of the poorest quality. Aristocrats from the old powerful families were given ministerial positions in trade for supporting the state, and landlords were encouraged to invest in industry.

The great landowning estates were divided and distributed among the peasants with little or no technical assistance. The state then worked to promote large-scale capitalist agricultural production. Many of the former peasants sold their land and moved to the cities. Masses flocked to urban areas in search of work in the state’s construction and industrial projects, while those who stayed behind took jobs in agribusinesses as wage earners, effectively rendering them agricultural proletarians. The whole process took only a decade. In a short span between 1963–1973, the population of Tehran doubled, as the ranks of its working class swelled. These newly proletarianized peasants took up residence in ever-expanding shanty towns, forming a vast army of “urban poor.” Some entered the manufacturing and industrial sector, but many more — when they were able to find employment at all — worked as manual laborers in the ever-expanding construction industry, building skyscrapers and apartment buildings for the rich.

Other reforms also promoted capitalist development. New education initiatives, authoritarian in nature, contributed to the growth of a modern bureaucracy. The furthering of scholarships and opportunities to study abroad created a modern educated middle class, many of whom would soon become politicized. The enfranchisement of women, accompanied by further employment and educational opportunities, also added to this modernizing development. What was missed, or at least underestimated by the regime, was the extent to which all these policies were creating the material basis for a social revolution. Like all development under capitalism, the results were uneven: the country as a whole became more developed, while class differences became more pronounced.

It was during this period that the state began in earnest to push through a radical development program that would transform Iran into a modern capitalist state. The state’s modernization program favored the “comprador bourgeoisie”: government loans were given to large industrialists, many of whom acted as mediators for mostly-American corporations. Meanwhile, the traditional bourgeoisie of the bazaars, who were intimately connected with the clergy by familial relations, and who funds the religious endowments, celebrations, mosques, etc., became increasingly alienated economically, politically, and culturally from the Shah’s regime.

In the years after 1963, a younger generation of activists inspired by the Cuban, Algerian, and Vietnamese examples turned to armed struggle. Of these, the two main groups were the People’s Fediayan Guerillas, who came out of Tudeh and the left-wing of the National Front, and the People’s Mujahideen, who came out of the religious wing of the National Front and cleaved to a left-wing Islamic-populist ideology. Although this period saw the rise of an urban guerilla movement, disruptions among the population generally remained minimal. Worker’s strikes began to resume in the early-1970s but, for the moment at least, the regime was able to keep them from getting out of pocket. This was due not solely to repression (which certainly existed), but to the exceptional growth of the economy, which proved sufficient to keep a sizable part of the middle classes, and a significant number of white and blue collar workers, under control. With the incredible rise of the oil price on the international market, the early 1970s was the height of the Shah’s megalomaniac claim to be transforming Iran into a “Great Civilization.” He did, however, solidify Iran’s position as a regional power and anti-communist force. Under Nixon-Kissinger, the US fully backed the Shah’s regime as the gendarmerie of the Middle East, providing both weapons and political support.[16]

By 1975 the global price of oil had dropped, causing a general slow-down. Optimism about the constantly growing economy began to falter. The government’s attempts to curb inflation only exacerbated public anger by causing a spike in unemployment. In response to the mounting crisis, the state became increasingly dictatorial, arresting a large number of bazaari merchants and further agitating the traditional bourgeoisie and their historic allies, the clergy. From late 1977 onwards, various sectors and classes joined the “popular” movement, until the regime finally alienated the majority of the population. In such a situation the autonomy of the state proved to be a weakness for the regime. The Shah had managed to alienate all classes with the exception of a small comprador ruling circle that included the royal family and the court, top military generals, and the “big bourgeoisie” of industrialists and elite families with ties to multinational corporations.

#iran #middle east #Anti-imperialism #history #Ill Will #insurrection #Class Struggle #Autonomy #anarchism #resistance #prison abolition #acab #jail #prisoners #autonomy #revolution #community building #practical anarchism #anarchist society #practical #practical anarchy #anarchy #daily posts #communism #anti capitalist #anti capitalism #late stage capitalism #organization #grassroots #grass roots

[theblackhate]

Knowledge pt.2

check the other parts here!

Summary:

The story begins the same for everyone, on the day of the ceremony, one of the most important for all the kids who take part in it every year, and Michelle will not miss the opportunity to leave behind a faction that she did not feel belonged to her.

On her journey, however, she will encounter someone who will make her initiation feel like hell.

Pairing: Eric Coulter x reader

Word count: 8.8k

It was strange to wake up knowing that your life would change drastically in a few hours. Ellie felt a sense of emptiness as she stared at the ceiling, contemplating whether the Dauntless were the right faction for her.

She was told to trust the Test, that it would make the choice easier, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Dauntless wasn't the right place for her. She saw them every day at school and in the city, running, climbing buildings fearlessly, and imagining herself among them seemed impossible.

With great slowness, she got up, observing her room for the last time. A wave of nostalgia washed over her as she looked at the place where she had spent her childhood, where she spent hours playing with Anne and her father.

Her father.

What would he think of her result? Would he be pleased or outraged by the fact that his only daughter wouldn't carry on his dynasty in Candor?

She grabbed clothes similar to yesterday's from the wardrobe, not thinking that wearing a skirt would be a wise choice if she chose Dauntless. She tied her hair into a tight bun and noticing that she was early, she took the opportunity to spend some time at home.

She would leave everything behind, the practically sterile rooms, empty, devoid of life. In the entire house, only her room seemed lived in, with some drawings on the walls and photos attached here and there.

Looking at a small photo of her and Anne, she wondered whether to take it with her or not, to have a memory of her when they wouldn't see each other anymore. She sighed, thinking about the events of the previous day, about Anne's hostility towards her for no reason.

What had happened? What had triggered such a reaction in Anne?

Her best friend, the kindest and gentlest girl she had ever known.

She sniffled, feeling tears welling up in her eyes, and decided that maybe it was time to go, to leave behind what she hadn't considered home for years. She should be happy to start a new life, to live her dream of being free, but the unknown scared her; she didn't know what she was about to face.

Leaving the house, she grabbed one of their photos, one of the most recent ones, and tucked it into her pocket, hoping to keep it throughout the initiation. It was the only thing she truly cared about having, not even her sketchbook with her drawings was as important.

The journey to the hall where the Choosing Ceremony would take place was relatively close to her home. She didn't bother to rush to be among the first, knowing that, like every year, there would be a few minutes of delay.

She tried to enjoy the last moments in the neighborhood where she lived, the area of the city where the Candor spent most of their lives. As boring as it might seem with all those white skyscrapers, she didn't mind; the Candor were minimalists, and it was one of the few things Ellie appreciated about them.

It was home after all, but it wasn't the right home for her.

Unconsciously, she looked around for Anne, but the girl was nowhere to be seen; most likely, she was already at the Choosing Ceremony with her parents.

She envied her from that perspective, having a nice family that always supported her in everything she did. They didn't care if Anne didn't always tell the truth; they didn't mind if she didn't follow in their footsteps, and least of all, they allowed her the freedom to discover herself.

On the contrary, Ellie felt like a failure despite being one of the best in her class, even outperforming the Erudite students who attended the same lessons. But for her mother, it was never enough; she didn't study enough, didn't talk enough, wasn't honest enough.

She couldn't remember if her mother had always been like this or if she had changed after her husband's disappearance, but deep down, she wondered if it was her fault, if she had been too difficult as a child when she was young.

The day was better compared to yesterday; the sun wasn't too hot, and a gentle breeze cooled her face. If Anne were there with her, she would have joked about how she looked like a ghost, her pale skin matching her white jacket.

From a distance, she began to see the hall where the ceremony would take place, and she felt a lump form in her throat, the anxiety of making the wrong choice. What if Dauntless wasn't the right choice for her? She couldn't go back; she would have to become factionless.

Groups of people arrived slowly, families and friends joking outside the hall as they enjoyed their last moments together. Ellie looked at the people beside her, wondering how many of her peers would leave their original faction to start a new life like her.

A loud noise caught her attention, and turning around, she saw the Dauntless train speeding along the railway. One by one, they began jumping off the cars, miraculously landing on their feet and continuing to run.

It was a mass of black and red with an added splash of color due to the unusual hair that many of the younger ones sported. She wondered if, after the initiation, she would become like them too.

She shook her head at the idea because she would never be one of them. She would never go so far as to get strange hairstyles with odd colors, wear overly revealing shirts, or ripped pants.

If she were to join them and pass the initiation, could she truly become one of them?

What caught her attention, however, were some of their tattoos. From simple designs to intricate masterpieces, they covered much of their skin.

That was what truly fascinated Ellie about their way of life—the freedom to express themselves in any way imaginable.

Ellie lingered outside for a while longer, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. She was afraid she wouldn't be brave enough to join the Dauntless.

When she saw people hurrying to enter, she followed, her heart pounding with fear and excitement at finally realizing her dream. She was scared, filled with insecurities, but as she climbed the stairs and saw the five bowls representing the different factions, her thought became clear.

She had five options, but only one choice.

The hall was filled with colors divided into five rows, and Ellie took her place among the Candor, scanning the crowd for Anne. She found her shortly after, seated between her mother and father, rigid in her chair; she was only a few rows ahead of Ellie, yet at the same time, she seemed so distant, unreachable.

She wanted to take advantage of the remaining minutes to go to her, bid her a final farewell, but someone took a seat on both sides of her, trapping her.

The hall fell silent as Jeanine Matthews, the leader of the Erudite faction, stepped onto the pedestal to begin her speech about the Choosing Ceremony.

Every year, a leader from a different faction would present, but Ellie, like others, noticed how over the years Jeanine became increasingly present at these events, like a vulture on a carcass.

Ellie had to admit she respected the woman's ambition, but she found her presence a bit too insistent.

"The faction system is a living organism composed of cells, all of you. And the only way it can survive and thrive is for each of you to claim your rightful place. The future belongs to those who know where they belong."

Her voice echoed in the silent hall, the sound of her heels as she moved in front of the bowls creating a hypnotic rhythm. Her custom-tailored blue attire gave her a distinguished, important look as she held a tablet in her hand.

"Now it's your turn, your chance to choose your future. Don't be afraid, but remember one important thing: faction before blood," the last phrase was echoed by the entire room, by the teenagers and their parents.

It was a concept many didn't agree with, but still respected. Leaving everything behind was difficult; many couldn't bear the distance. However, to allow their city to function effectively, it was the only way.

Ellie agreed, finding that the most important thing to do after changing factions was to rid themselves of the memories that anchored them to their original faction. Perhaps her perception of things was influenced by the way she herself had lived her childhood, alone, without anyone on her side.

Except for Anne.

She squeezed the photo she held in her pocket between her fingers for some comfort. The more Jeanine spoke, the slower time seemed to pass for her, as if every word that came out of her mouth was drawn out as much as possible to increase the anticipation.

But hers was just a perception; a few seconds later, they began calling out the names of the teenagers. One by one, they stepped forward to choose their future.

The list was in alphabetical order, so it wouldn't be long before her turn came, but in the meantime, she watched the kids she had grown up with, gone to school with, change their destiny.

Her fingertips tingled with excitement, the realization of truly being there hitting her all at once. It was her moment, her chance to finally have a good life.

"Maxim Anderson," a boy from the Abnegation section stood up, ran his hand through his curly red hair, and adjusted his glasses. He was short, but the way he walked exuded authority and confidence.

He took the dagger that Marcus Eaton, representing the government within the city, offered. Maxim took it with confidence, making a cut perhaps deeper than necessary on the palm of his hand, then clasped his hand over the bowl containing the burning coals.

Dauntless.

The boys from the Dauntless faction cheered, and Maxim raised his arms in the air, joining in their jubilation. He was welcomed with warm hugs and pats on the back, taking a seat in the front row where a Dauntless boy offered him a place.

"Chloe Andrew."

Ellie's head snapped towards the row in front of her, where Chloe Andrew, one of the most insolent girls in her faction, descended the stairs with confident steps until she reached the pedestals where the five bowls were placed.

Surprisingly, she also chose Dauntless, leaving behind a shattered family. Ellie watched her own family, seated in front of her, despairing; her little sister tried to hold back tears while her mother stroked her head.

Her father, on the other hand, remained motionless, a stoic expression as he observed his daughter from afar. Ex daughter now.

Ellie's attention returned once again to Anne, who was still nervously biting her cuticles, anxiety consuming her from within.

Several more names were called, and many of them remained loyal to their original faction, returning to their families who embraced them happily. Ellie felt a pang of jealousy watching the parents hold their children close, kissing them, knowing they could grow old with them.

"Anne Bishop." Anne's name was called, and the trembling girl made her way to stand in front of the five bowls. She took the dagger with shaking hands and very slowly made a small cut to draw blood, but she remained still, contemplating her choice.

Ellie tried to get a better view of the scene, to understand what Anne was undecided about, but she was too far away to see clearly; it took her much longer than the other kids, and she could hear the whispers of the confused people around her. She was confused too, what was Anne waiting for?

Then, all of a sudden, Anne reached out and let drops of blood fall into the bowl containing the soil.

"Amity!" declared Marcus Eaton, smiling at the crowd, but Ellie's attention was fixed on her best friend, on how her expression was anything but happy, on how she tried to hide her tears while keeping her gaze low.

"Ellie Black."

It took her a second to realize that her name had been called, rising with great calm as if at any moment the ground would give way beneath her. She felt all eyes on her as she descended one step at a time, placing one foot cautiously in front of the other.

Was it really her moment?

She nodded politely to Jeanine Matthews, who returned it with a polite smile, watching her closely as she went to retrieve the dagger from Marcus Eaton.

Jeanine was curious; she knew Ellie's father, and over the years, she also got to know her mother. They were extraordinary people, in her opinion, wasted in Candor. They had minds worth millions of dollars, the kind of people who could change your life.

Both born Erudite, they had chosen to change factions at the age of sixteen. Jeanine had heard about Ellie Black, a girl in Candor who kept to herself too much and always seemed to get into trouble.

Ellie took the dagger Marcus offered, gripping the handle between her fingers. She observed it, pressing it against the palm of her hand, but didn't cut herself. She remembered her simulation from the day before.

What would have happened if she had plunged the blade into her palm? Would it have hurt?

To her, it felt like she stood in front of the bowls with the dagger in her hand for hours, but she knew only a few seconds had passed. She positioned herself in front of the Dauntless bowl and with a swift motion, she cut her palm, letting the blood drip onto the burning coals.

"Dauntless!" Marcus shouted, causing the crowd of Dauntless to erupt once again in cheers, inviting her to join them.

She felt like she was inside a bubble, the cheers of her new faction muffled and her vision blurred. She had done it, she had changed her life.

Instinctively, she glanced towards the Amity faction and locked eyes with Anne, who was already looking at her. Anne's eyes were now red, the tears gone.

Ellie tentatively smiled at her, and to her great surprise, Anne responded with a smile and a thumbs-up, happy for her. They were separated forever now, but their memories would be cherished in their hearts.

She paid little attention to the kids who came after her, only a few caught her eye, like Patrick Sainz and Connor Kennedy, two boys from her own faction. Chloe's best friends.

She had hoped to have no connection with her old faction, but apparently, she would have to settle for living with their breath on her neck. She felt their glances from time to time, judging her as they always had.

Ellie pressed her thumb against the cut on her palm, which sent a rather pleasant shock through her body, distracting her from both her former and new companions at the same time.

Why? Couldn't they mind their own damn business elsewhere?

The rest of the Ceremony passed quickly, Ellie staring into the void in front of her, slightly shaken by what had just happened. She couldn't believe she had managed to change factions, to leave behind that place that wasn't so much a home; it was a dream come true.

She counted ten transfers; most of them came from Erudite, but an equal number of Dauntless also joined other factions, although the quantity was minimal compared to the other factions.

Many of the kids remained in Dauntless, returning to their seats with enthusiasm, greeted with hugs and cheers. It was like a big family; they all seemed so warm.

Soon the end of the Ceremony arrived, and all the factions began to rise and head towards the exit, but the Dauntless were different from all the others. They didn't take the elevator but started running.

The transfers, confused, began to run after them. They ran through the entire city, and Ellie had to admit that, despite the sharp pain in her side, she felt free running amidst all those people.

She distanced herself a bit from the group of transfers, ignoring the pain and picking up her pace to reach the front of the group, but the Dauntless stopped under the scaffolding that supported the train tracks.

Soon the end of the Ceremony arrived, and all the factions began to rise and head towards the exit, but the Dauntless were different from all the others. They didn't take the elevator but started running.

The transfers, confused, began to run after them. They ran through the entire city, and Ellie had to admit that, despite the sharp pain in her side, she felt free running amidst all those people.

She distanced herself a bit from the group of transfers, ignoring the pain and picking up her pace to reach the front of the group, but the Dauntless stopped under the scaffolding that supported the train tracks.

Slowly, the Dauntless began to climb up it. Ellie stood there, mouth agape, but it didn't take her long to do the same. She had loved climbing since she was a child, and this was her moment.

With innate skill, she managed to reach the top of the railway before any other transfer, even before the Dauntless kids. At the top, she looked down at the mass of black-clad figures below her, feeling powerful, like a ruler looking down on her subjects.

It was an incredible sensation, something she had never felt before and wanted to keep experiencing.

Someone approached her from behind, giving her a pat on the shoulder, startling her as she thought someone was trying to push her off. She recoiled, moving away from the edge to see who had caused this little scare.

"Whoa, didn't mean to startle you, kid! I'm Lauren, nice to meet you," the woman extended her hand, perhaps a few years older than Ellie, with long brown hair and an eyebrow piercing. "I just wanted to congratulate you; I've never seen a transfer move that fast."

Ellie took her hand and shook it, embarrassed by how visibly she trembled from the adrenaline. It wasn't the first time she had climbed somewhere or ran until she felt sick; she had done several illegal explorations in the abandoned parts of the city.

"Thank you."

"Good luck with initiation; it's tough. Don't hesitate to ask for help if you struggle with anything, okay?"

Ellie nodded to Lauren, who smiled before heading towards the edge to help the remaining initiates climb onto the platform. It was reassuring to know they weren't as hostile as her mother had made them out to be. So far, she had only met one Dauntless, but if they were all like that, she considered herself lucky.

It was enough to see how they reacted when someone joined their faction—the shouts of joy and the compliments for choosing them showed how united they were as a faction. She liked that.

Ellie gazed at the scenery as they waited for the train. The sky was becoming overcast again, and many hoped it wouldn't start raining, making the journey to the Dauntless faction more difficult.

From a distance, the noise of the train caught the attention of most of the kids there, and they approached the tracks to wait for the train to stop and board it. However, a voice at the head of the line yelled out.

"Jump on!"

The Dauntless started running towards the end of the platform, confusing not only Ellie but also all the other initiates. "What do you mean, jump on?"

Ellie turned, noticing a short girl with tanned skin glancing between her and the train approaching at high speed. She shrugged at her, not knowing why she would know what they were supposed to do.

Both turned to look at the rest of the group, also standing still trying to figure out what to do. The train zoomed past their eyes, and Ellie took only a few seconds to understand what they meant by "jump on."

She started running towards a carriage that seemed to be less crowded and with all her might, she jumped, grabbing onto the handle protruding from the open door. It was challenging to get into the carriage; the force of the wind was too strong, and she was too weak.

Gritting her teeth, she threw herself into the carriage, trying to maintain balance to avoid falling in front of everyone. She was relieved to see that there were indeed few people inside, more children of Dauntless than others from different factions.

Ellie took a seat in a corner of the carriage, away from everyone else. One thing she feared was not making friends; she saw how everyone was already in little groups—the Dauntless kids stuck together, as did those from the same faction, leaving Ellie in her own little corner.

She remained alone throughout the journey, watching the city's ruined landscape through the window. The Dauntless faction was quite far from the center; their structures began in old buildings and sprawled underground in rooms resembling caves.

Noticing one of the empty door, she approached it, making sure to hold onto the handle tightly to avoid slipping. The air crashed against her face, disheveling her carefully tied chignon.

Ellie felt cold, the rain-filled air filling her lungs as she took a deep breath to savor the taste of freedom. She tried to look back, to see if she could spot her old home, and to her surprise, she could see the towering skyscraper where she had grown up.

Even from afar, it was imposing, and she thanked God that she had escaped from that place.

She wondered what her mother's reaction would be upon learning that her only daughter, her torment, had finally left. Would she rejoice? Would she realize she was alone in the world?

Perhaps she would finally realize that she was the problem, not Ellie.

"They're jumping!" exclaimed a boy dressed in blue, and Ellie turned again, tearing her gaze away from the city to see what was happening in front of her. But when she tried to get back into the carriage, she caught sight, out of the corner of her eye, of someone jumping off the train.

Caught off guard, she turned back abruptly, noticing how, indeed, the initiates were jumping off the moving train.

"These people are crazy."

"But there's a gap between us and the roof!"

Ellie heard the boys around her discussing the choice of jumping from a moving train; some were complaining, some were on the verge of tears, and finally, some were jumping without a second thought.

It seemed like the wisest choice—to not overthink it—otherwise, she could calculate all the things that could go wrong. She leaned slightly over the edge to check the distance to the roof; her breath caught in her throat when she saw the gap and especially the free fall of at least twenty to thirty meters if she missed the ledge.

She took a deep breath and entered the carriage to build up her momentum. Her heart was pounding as she began to run towards the exit, launching herself out of the train. She fell to the ground, and when her body touched the gravel on the roof, she was able to breathe again. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath while jumping.

She was surprised to find herself uninjured in the fall, only a few scratches and her once white clothes now not so white anymore. She pulled herself up, trying to straighten up to look somewhat presentable, loosening her now half-undone chignon.

Bodies continued to fall behind her onto the gravel, making unpleasant sounds, but Ellie headed towards the rest of the group, who seemed to be watching someone.

It didn't take her long to understand what or who they were observing—there was a man on the edge of the ledge, watching them with a stoic expression. He was intimidating just to look at, with an authoritative and threatening demeanor; his well-built physique gave the impression of someone who could break your back with two hands.

Ellie made her way through the bodies to get to the front row, or at least to see the situation more clearly.

In front of the ledge, there were several members of the Dauntless, including Lauren and a man of color who watched them with an almost annoyed expression. He observed each one of them, moving his head from side to side, pausing for a few extra seconds on the red and gray-clad individuals.

A wry smile played on his face.

They remained silent for a few minutes, the man walking on the ledge seemed to be challenging the ledge itself to throw him off. He wasn't afraid of falling; he walked on it as if it were a two-lane road.

He exuded confidence, authority, and danger.

Suddenly, he looked up to observe them. Seeing that they were all there, he stopped, crossed his arms over his chest, and began to speak.

"Listen, initiates. Don't think you're Dauntless just because you've simply jumped off a moving train, or worse, because you've chosen us," his tone matched his appearance: authoritative, cold, aggressive.

"During these months, you will have to prove yourselves worthy, continue to push your body and your fears to the limit. There's no place for weaklings."

Ellie kept her gaze on the man on the ledge even as the man in front of her began to speak. "My name is Max, I'm the representative of this faction. He is Eric," he indicated the man whom Ellie couldn't take her eyes off of, "and she is Lauren. They are two of the four leaders of this faction, including myself."

Lauren smiled at the initiates, winking at Ellie when she noticed her watching. Ellie quickly looked away, not wanting to give the impression of having favorites for any strange reason.

"Now listen to me," Eric began speaking, capturing everyone's attention, his voice rather loud. "There's no room for weaknesses here, so if you want to be part of the initiation, you have to jump."

He gestured behind him, and his statement sparked confusion among the boys standing at his feet. A smirk almost malevolent appeared on his face as he observed all those confused, frightened, and certainly hesitant boys about jumping into the void.

His expression turned serious again. "If you don't do it, you're out. The choice is yours."

"What?!" exclaimed a boy from Erudite among the crowd.

"What's down there? Water?" a Dauntless asked, and that reassured Ellie; apparently, even the children of Dauntless were unaware of how the initiation unfolded.

"Just jump and find out," Eric's tone continued to be one of mockery, as if he enjoyed seeing the fear in their eyes.

"Do you think it's a trick?" someone whispered behind her.

"No, I'm jumping."

Ellie turned to see the Abnegation boy make his way through her and another Dauntless to reach the edge, leaning a bit to try to see what was at the bottom, but he saw nothing.

She glanced back, and the girl who had spoken to her on the platform cheered for him, earning several dirty looks from the other initiates.

Maxim, if she remembered correctly, climbed onto the ledge, and the difference in height and size was almost comical; Eric was at least twenty centimeters taller and definitely twice as bulky as him.

"Yoloo!" he shouted, throwing himself off, and everyone held their breath, rushing to the edge to see if the boy had survived. "YESSS!"

His joyful scream echoed within the four walls, and some of the boys cheered, the tension slowly dissipating as they realized that indeed they wouldn't die if they jumped below.

But despite that, when it was someone else's turn, no one stepped forward. The three leaders looked at each other, each one more annoyed than the other.

"We don't have all day, initiates," Eric was even more intimidating when he had a serious expression. His eyes scanned each initiate until they stopped at Ellie. "You, jump."

Ellie didn't immediately realize he was referring to her until the Abnegation girl from before gave her a small push. She walked towards the ledge and climbed up without looking at what was below. She knew she wouldn't see anything, and that would stop her.

Most likely, Eric was about to say something, make an unpleasant comment to make her jump, but Ellie let herself fall into the void, closing her eyes. Her breath caught in her throat, and it felt like she was falling for hours, as if there was no end.

But at some point, her back came into contact with something soft that molded under her weight, causing her to bounce in the air a few times. A net.

A freaking net at the bottom of a freaking hole, seriously?

"Yeah, I thought the same thing the first time," a masculine voice distracted her from her thoughts, and she might have realized she was thinking out loud. Someone moved the net, and she rolled onto her back until she reached the edge of the net where a tall, muscular boy gave her a quick smile. "What's your name? You can choose to change it, but you can't do it later."

Michelle thought for a few seconds, looking into the eyes of the boy who had spoken to her, his intense blue eyes locking with hers.

"Michelle."

"Second to jump, Michelle!" he shouted to a group of people behind him.

Michelle, now going by the name she had chosen, descended with as much grace as possible, failing miserably due to her legs not holding her up properly. The boy quickly moved to support her and help her down the steps, making sure she didn't fall once he let go.

Her whole body was tingling, the ground seeming to have disappeared beneath her. She stood frozen in the spot where he had left her, too frightened to take a step forward for fear of falling.

To her left, Michelle saw Maxim talking to a man dressed entirely in black covered in tattoos, who definitely wasn't one of the initiates. Meanwhile, to her right, her eyes fell on a particular person.

She didn't recognize her immediately; she had their back turned to her, but something about her felt familiar. They were engaged in animated conversation with other Dauntless, and as she shook her head, her hair shifted, revealing a tattoo at the base of her neck.

Tori.

She finally recognized the tattoo, a falcon. Cute.

Michelle noticed several members of the Dauntless below observing their arrival, and she wondered why. Why would anyone waste their time watching kids fall onto a net?

"I see you made the right choice," a voice she immediately recognized spoke from behind her. Michelle turned to see Tori, a more relaxed expression on her face, almost... proud?

"Let's hope so."

"You know, I've already told you how unusual you are for a Candor, but I have to say it again because believe me, I've never seen someone so quiet," Tori remarked.

Michelle looked at her with a blank, confused expression. "Is that a compliment?"

"Mh, yeah, take it as one. Candors are usually irritating, talk too much," her tone was friendly, and despite trying to make conversation, Michelle noticed, thanks to her body language, how reserved she was.

Tori smiled gently, but kept her distance, her arms crossed over her chest.

Noticing how Michelle's silence had remained intact since she first saw her the day before, she decided to leave, apologizing and saying she had to go back to her colleagues.

Michelle returned to where the few initiates who had dared to jump were gathered. Out of twenty-two initiates, only eight had jumped so far. She decided to sit on the ground where another girl was already sitting, her hair scattered and her face flushed.

"I never want to do that again," the girl next to her said, panting. "It was horrible."

Sunny turned to Michelle, her green eyes standing out thanks to the fluorescent lights below. "I haven't introduced myself, I'm Sunny."

"Michelle."

They fell silent, and Michelle broke eye contact when she heard someone shout, followed by cursing when they touched the net. Fortunately, Sunny didn't try to insist on talking to her, enjoying the cold that the stone walls provided.

They didn't know how much time had passed, perhaps a good half hour before almost all the initiates managed to jump.

When the last initiate, Connor, jumped from the roof and joined Chloe in a corner of the room, the man who had taken the trouble to help them down from the net introduced himself.

"I'm Four. Some of you may already know me, others not. But here, in this room, you're all starting from the same point. None of you knows what the future holds, not even the children of the Dauntless."

Behind him, Max, Lauren, and the other Intrepid who had been on the roof with them descended. Lauren took her place in front of the exit, and Four nodded to her, while the other two left.

Four was about to start speaking again when another figure descended, landing rather ostentatiously on the net, drawing attention to himself. Eric climbed down from the net, whispering something into Four's ear as he passed by, causing the latter to stiffen.

Eric walked away, smiling, but it was clear that his intent was to unsettle Four, and unfortunately, he succeeded.

"Lauren will train the children of the Dauntless, while you, transfers, will be with me. Clear?" His tone of voice was sterner now.

"Clear," the Initiates replied in unison.

"Good. The children of the Dauntless can follow Lauren to their dormitories; I don't think you need a tour. As for you, follow me." Four began to walk down a narrow corridor, and the Initiates followed him. "I usually work in the control room, but for these months, I've been asked to be your trainer."

They walked in silence through dark corridors, illuminated only by occasional neon lamps; Michelle didn't realize she had someone next to her until she felt her shoulder bump against someone else's.

"Oh, sorry." When she turned, she saw the girl from earlier beside her, Sunny. She had long, almost black, brown hair, olive skin, and well-defined features.

"No worries," Michelle replied, continuing to walk, but it seemed like the new girl wanted to keep talking.

"Are you not friends with the other three Candors?" asked curiously, keeping her gaze ahead.

"No."

Sunny turned to look at her, feeling the blunt response, and decided it was best to leave her alone for the moment. But she wouldn't stop trying to talk to her. Michelle seemed like an interesting person, in her opinion.

The group abruptly stopped, and Michelle tried to figure out the reason. "This is the Pit," Four said. "You'll grow fond of it over time. It's a place where friends gather to celebrate, drink, and fight."

Four opened two doors, leaving Michelle and Sunny in awe at the sight of the Pit; it was a vast place carved into the rock, with Michelle unable to see the end of it due to its length. Along the walls, passages were carved to access different levels where various shops were located.

"I didn't think we'd descended this far," remarked Sunny beside her, and Michelle couldn't help but agree.

They had descended several meters, surely below the level where the buildings were constructed. The ceiling was made of glass panels, allowing in the little natural light available that day due to the bad weather.

One thing that surprised her was the lack of safety features on the stairs, corridors, and pretty much everything overlooking the Pit; there were no handrails to hold onto or anything to prevent someone from slipping below.

Michelle looked around, noting how different this faction was from her own. The Pit was filled with people scattered about, with shouts, conversations, and animated gestures echoing through the air.

"Later, I'll show you to your dormitories, but first, I want to take you somewhere," Four changed direction, leading them down a corridor away from the Pit.

Several whispers started among the group. Michelle tilted her head slightly to listen more closely.

"I haven't seen any adults or elderly people!"

"But did you see how the kids were running up those stairs? I was afraid they would fall!"

"I don't mind," Sunny said beside her. "It's different from what I had at home, very."

"I can say the same," Michelle whispered, confused about where they were going, where Four was taking them. She wasn't alone; everyone began to feel the temperature change and the sound of water rushing violently.

"This is the chasm," Four stopped on a metal walkway without a railing. No one followed him. "The chasm reminds us that there's a thin line between courage and idiocy, that our lives can end in a split second."

"Incredible," Sunny said, leaning slightly over, detaching herself from the railing to get a better look at the bottom of the chasm.

"Jumping from here is a stupid way to end your life; there's no way to survive. It's happened before, and it will happen again. You've been warned."

Four then turned his back on the group to cross the chasm, and the group of initiates followed him cautiously. Michelle heard someone behind her joking about jumping, and another voice admonishing them for joking about such a thing.

They walked through the corridors and returned to the Pit, but from the other side they had entered. They followed Four until they reached two doors, made of metal, were open, revealing several tables occupied by the Dauntless.

"This is the dinning hall where you'll have your meals. You're free for now. I'll come get you when you're done eating to show you the dormitories," Four said.

With that, Four left, leaving the group of initiates to themselves. Michelle looked for an empty spot and headed towards a table in the back before anyone else could take it.

She didn't realize she was being followed by Sunny; it seemed she wouldn't get rid of the girl easily, and she was grateful for it. Maybe she would manage to make a friend.

Sunny and Michelle sat facing each other at the empty table, quietly choosing what to eat. The food was placed in the center of each table, and various groups already seated were engaged in lively conversations."

They began to eat in silence until two more initiates joined them. Michelle recognized the red-haired boy, Maxim, and the girl who was with him and had spoken to her on the platform after the Choosing Ceremony.

"Pleasure, Max," the boy introduced himself before filling his plate with meat and eating as if he had been fasting for months; Michelle gave him a dirty look as she cut into her hamburger.

"Tina," the girl also introduced herself, and Sunny shook her hand, introducing herself in return.

"She's Michelle," Sunny spoke up for her, and Michelle was grateful; she didn't want to talk.

Her life had changed drastically; she found herself in a new faction with new people within hours and needed to assimilate it all. Not that she would have talked more, but that was just an excuse.

"What do you think so far? I find it pretty cool," Tina said, laughing and nudging Max, who smiled at her. "It's so strange, completely different from what we were used to!"

Her enthusiasm was palpable, and Michelle just wished she could stuff her mouth with food to shut her up; her tone of voice was irritating for how she emphasized every word.

"Yeah, I have to admit it feels weird," replied Sunny, taking off her blue jacket.

"I've never eaten meat before, it's delicious!" Max continued to devour the food in front of him like an animal.

"But that's disgusting!" Tina nudged Max, who kept eating with his mouth open. They were annoying, obscene.

Sunny looked at Michelle, confused, almost disgusted by their behavior; they mainly spoke to each other and kept a louder tone than necessary. Michelle shrugged before finishing her meal, her stomach still tight due to the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Another person sat with them, to Michelle's right. When she glanced to see who it was, she saw the net guy, Four, grabbing a plate nearby. He remained distant, however, leaving several inches between them.

The doors of the hall opened, and silence fell among the Dauntless and initiates. Eric, recognized by Michelle, entered; the silence allowed the echo of his boots on the floor, and as he passed by the tables, many lowered their heads to their plates, trying to ignore him.

"It's scary," Tina whispered, leaning towards them without taking her eyes off the man who had taken a seat with Max, the faction leader, and other Dauntless none of them had ever seen before.

"You should be afraid of him," another voice chimed in, causing Michelle to jump in her seat. "Seems like every conversation we have starts with you getting scared, huh?"

Lauren took a seat to her left. She, too, began to eat.

"Why? Yeah, he looks badass, but does he really have all that power?" Max asked.

"He's one of the leaders, so I'd say yes," Sunny replied, rolling her eyes and resting her chin on her hand. Michelle noticed how she glanced sideways at Four, trying not to be noticed; someone had a crush.

Michelle smiled slightly at the thought, finding it amusing that not even many hours had passed, and her new friend already had her eyes on someone.

"Ah, he's one of the leaders?"

"Are you stupid? He said it when we were on the roof!" Tina's voice was quite irritating.

Lauren cleared her throat. "Be careful, he's not someone to mess with," her tone was serious, the amused expression fading as she spoke to the initiates at the table. "He's dangerous, he has a bad reputation here."

"What has he done to be so feared?" Sunny asked, curious, directing all her attention to the woman in front of her, finally averting her gaze from Four.

"He's a sadist, he enjoys seeing others suffer and uses all the power he has to his advantage," the guy replied without looking anyone in the eye, keeping his gaze fixed on his plate.

"How old is he? He seems young to be a leader."

"Age doesn't matter here," Four replied curtly, taking a sip of water from his glass. "If you're at the top of the rankings, you can become a leader."

"Well, he wasn't at the top, was he?" Lauren retorted, leaning forward on the table to observe her colleague, a smirk on her face.

"Why he's a leader then?" Sunny asked, trying to understand the situation.

"Because I turned down the position," Michelle saw Four's jaw tighten, his posture stiffening slightly. She was curious about the boy next to her; he seemed so distant while talking with them; either he didn't want to be there or the topic wasn't to his liking.

"That was a stupid choice," Michelle said, staring at him. The table fell silent, and Four paused, slowly turning to look at her with an unreadable expression on his face, as if he expected her to continue. But she didn't.

"Excuse me?" Four asked, his voice slightly sharp.

"It was a stupid choice to turn down such a position, don't you think?" Michelle repeated calmly and composedly, as if speaking to a child. Four flashed a vexed smile, caught off guard by her assertion.

He had never seen a Candor so quiet, and for a moment he wondered if it was all a joke and he had taken the clothes of another initiate, but when she spoke, he immediately understood that maybe, after all, she was indeed a Candor.

"What makes you think you can speak to me like that?" Four tried to keep a calm tone as he replied, wanting to make things clear before getting angry.

"It was an observation," Michelle replied without averting her gaze. There was something about Four that intrigued her, but she couldn't quite grasp it yet; was it his indifferent demeanor? Perhaps it was the fact that he seemed not to belong to that faction?

Why had he sat with them?

"If you want to survive in here, you better watch what you say," he finally looked away, feeling like he was having a staring contest with the initiate, and knowing that he would lose. "Behave like that with someone else, and you'll end up at the bottom of the chasm before the first module ends."

He returned to eating in silence. Michelle glanced at the younger leader sitting on the other side of the dinning hall, wondering if he was the one Four was referring to.

"I didn't believe Tori when she told me she had met a Candor with no tongue," the woman smiled at her when she turned to look at her, diverting her gaze from Eric. "But here you are. Though, I'd say you have a sharp tongue rather than no tongue. I like it."

"Don't encourage her, or you know what will happen," Four warned her.

"Oh, come on Four, I don't think she's stupid enough to pick a fight with anyone. Or is she?" Lauren looked at her, expecting a response, but Michelle remained silent.

She had to admit that despite Four being a good-looking guy, he was also quite touchy, at least that was the impression he had given her. She decided to stay quiet for the rest of the dinner, contemplating whether her way of speaking was no longer suitable after changing factions.

She had no problem speaking the truth, sharp-tongued or not, but the fact that Four took her comment so personally made her realize that maybe she should adapt to the situation.

She had to admit that the subtle threat of being thrown down the chasm sent shivers down her spine.

"Let's just say it's better not to beat around the bush with him," Lauren replied, interrupted by Eric's sudden arrival at the table.

Michelle only noticed him when Four shifted slightly due to the nudge, prompting her to look in the direction where Eric was seated. She was surprised to realize she hadn't heard him coming or seen him out of the corner of her eye.

He didn't greet anyone, neither the initiates nor Lauren or Four. He sat down as if he owned the entire place and began talking to Four, who was visibly annoyed and stiff on the bench.

"Don't you introduce me to your new buddies?" he gestured to the three guys in front of them.

"Tina, Max, Sunny, and Michelle," Four replied.

"Oh, two stiffs. We've outdone ourselves this year."

Stiff. Michelle had already heard that derogatory nickname; it was a way Abnegation members were referred to by other factions. It indicated their rigidity, their countless unnecessary rules.

"We'll see how long they last."

Four remained silent, and Michelle took the opportunity to observe the young leader. The first thing that caught her eye was the two tattoos on the sides of his neck, two black stripes peeking out from under the collar of his jacket; he had several piercings: one on his eyebrow, one on his lip, and a couple on his ears.

On the roof, she hadn't noticed a detail that made him even more intimidating; he had two icy blue eyes that accentuated his coldness.

He kept his blonde hair short on the sides and longer on top, slicked back with gel.

He was relatively good-looking, definitely different from Four. From behavior to appearance.

"What a lovely group, two stiffs, a know-it-all, and..." he leaned in to observe Michelle, scrutinizing her closely, "and... a Candor who doesn't speak. Well, Four, you've made some interesting friends."

"Eric..." Lauren intervened, receiving an amused look from the blond.

"What? I just want to chat with our friend here. So, tell me, what have you been up to lately?"

While Michelle was confused, Sunny and the others seemed even more perplexed. They observed the scene in silence, unable to understand why their leader was talking to Four as if they were old friends, when just a few minutes earlier, Four had warned them to be cautious around him.

"It's nothing special, just the usual," Four replied without looking at him.

"Mh, boring. But what can you expect? A stiff will always remain a stiff," he commented before getting up and patting Four on the shoulder.

He left the cafeteria, and Michelle let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"Were you a transfert?" Sunny asked, visibly shaken. Michelle could understand why: Four didn't seem like a Dauntless at all, but rather an Abnegation.

"How do you know each other if you're not friends?" Tina asked, curious.

"We went through initiation together two years ago; he was a transfer from Erudite," Four explained.

"What does he have to say about me then?" Sunny asked, annoyed by the unpleasant comment he had made.

"Eric is Eric; don't take his words too seriously, or you'll be the first one to leave here," Lauren reassured her.

Sunny responded again, but Michelle no longer heard the conversation happening around her. She continued to gaze at the door through which the man, or rather boy, had just exited; he didn't just appear two years older than them, he seemed at least five years older.

But as Four had said, age doesn't matter.

She turned to look at the boy to her right, and after a few seconds, feeling his gaze, he turned to look at her in return. They were studying each other.

"Be careful, Michelle. Not speaking could get you into the same trouble as saying too much would," he warned.

With that, he got up, leaving Michelle and the rest of the group to finish their dinner.

He returned half an hour later when most of the Dauntless had retired to their quarters. He led them silently through the faction, navigating through several corridors until they reached a point where several corridors intersected.

From one of the adjacent corridors, Eric appeared and stood next to Four at the front of the line. Speaking wasn't forbidden, but not a word was uttered among the initiates.

The place was rather dark, which made Michelle more alert. Occasionally, a fluorescent lamp attached to the wall would intermittently illuminate the corridor, but other than that, they were engulfed in darkness.

Sunny, beside her, cursed several times, stumbling over the uneven ground. She wasn't the only one; Tina, who was behind them along with Max, stumbled once, clutching onto Michelle to prevent herself from falling.

To say that Michelle just wanted to go to sleep was an understatement; she wanted to be alone for at least a few hours.

As they continued walking, she put her hands in her pockets and gripped the photo she had been carrying until that moment. She had heard someone talk about burning all their belongings, clothes, and items they had brought with them.

But she wouldn't allow it; she would safeguard that photo until her death.

She wondered what Anne was doing at that moment, if she was okay. She wished to speak one last time before leaving with the Dauntless; she wanted to make sure there were no issues between them after the previous evening.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Eric, and only then did Michelle realize that Four was no longer with them.

"As you know, I am one of the five leaders of this faction, and since we take your initiation very seriously, I have volunteered to oversee most of your journey," Eric announced.

They had stopped in front of two doors, arranging themselves in a semi-circle to face Eric as he spoke.

"Here are some rules to follow," he paced back and forth in front of the door, making eye contact with all the initiates. "You must be in the training quarters at eight in the morning, and training will last until six in the evening. After that, you can do as you please. You'll have days off between each phase, understood?"

The initiates nodded, and Eric continued speaking. "These are your quarters. You will be trained separately from the residents but will be ranked together."

"What do you mean by ranked?" a voice from the back asked, and Michelle expected a reprimand, but Eric's expression changed to one of amusement, almost sadistic.

"You chose us; now we choose you."

#eric divergent #eric coulter angst #eric coulter fluff #eric coulter imagine #eric coulter x reader #four divergent #divergent fanfiction #divergent #allegiant #insurgent

[pixyys]

no longer human

what's this? dazai osamu x lawyer! reader

the moon is beautiful. but then again, it is beautiful because it is unreachable and far away, right?

warnings. spoilers for S4 / cannibalism aftermath arc, swear word, alcohol, dazai changing personalities like me changing my drafts :')

best read as continuation of objection hearsay! (buraiha part) and crime and punishment. but you can vibe along either way! hehe

"ooh, [name]! is that your law firm?" dazai points at a building that looks less flamboyant among the other brightly lit establishments.

"yeah. come to think of it. i wonder why they're putting a law firm in ginza out of everywhere."

yes, you are currently in ginza, tokyo; getting yourself swooped away from the comforting confines of yokohama by none other but one of your charming coworkers. one that had saved your life, actually. had dazai didn't call you that time, you don't want to know if you will still be standing here.

despite all that, he was the one who was adamant on treating you to 'some place nice.' claiming you've done a good job in both the last devastating case, as well as representing the falsely accused kunikida that has already gotten released from prison not long before this.

raising your head, the artificial lights outshine the early stars in the dusk sky. you just went on an impromptu trip to another city —an expensive city famous for its entertainment district— with a close coworker of yours. doesn't that sound like a romantic getaway you get to see in metropop novels?

in the dark, the colorful electric lights from the tall skyscrapers, opulent malls, and restaurants alike glow like mesmerizing gemstones. but dazai doesn't stop his steps.

"you know, if i knew you're taking me to ginza, i would've dressed for the occasion."

"don't worry, bella," he glances at you leisurely, "i'm sure you look stunning either way."

ridiculous. utterly ridiculous. you're not some rosy cheeked, lovesick highschool student. a conveniently charming coworker who also conveniently saved your life happened to conveniently invite you to a private outing with him. so what? that's what coworkers do! but more importantly-

"..who's bella?" a sister? a past lover? you tread carefully. ready to retreat in a safe distance should the man walking in front of you recoils and refuses to let down his walls further.

for a moment, you can only hear the sound of your steps, accompanied by muffled sounds of ads in billboards and night clubs opening early.

"..nevermind." dazai sounds uncharasterically exasperated —not a tone you normally hear.

the 'some place nice' dazai brought you to is somewhere less lively and more secluded, down a flight of stairs to what seems to be a conspicuous basement. being lead to such place, alone with the bandaged man, you could've started feeling cautious or uncomfortable, had it not for the fact that this route feels vaguely familiar.

"oh!" you exclaim as the neon sign reaches your line of sight.

"hm? been here before?"

"kind of?" you give your companion a taciturn nod, "if i remember correctly, i read about a good, but not particularly well-known bar. i wanted to go here back when i was still in law school."

dazai just softly hums, "figures."

the insides of the bar are of subdued colors of classic brown. its old fashioned interiors give off an antique vintage aesthetic. the space is adequately lit that it's enough to navigate your way and observe some of the decorative trinkets. but it's also not so bright that it hurts your eyes. this is the kind of establishment that gets more alive as the sun sinks further.

"i think i'll just have some coffee," you mutter as you observe the twinkling glass displayed near the red-vested bartender.

"geh!" dazai groans, "we've gotten all this far and you're getting coffee?"

you shrug, "i don't think i've told you. but it gets pretty messy when i drink too much."

"ahh.. well, you have a point."

sheesh. you make yourself comfortable on one of the stools. you might not be the best with alcohol, but you only took one shot out of formality back at SS. Zelda with all the agency people. it shouldn't have been that bad.

the short span of time while the bartender tinkers with your orders is filled with comfortable silence. the tinkling sound of glass and liquid being poured give you a sense of familiarity —like back at cafe uzumaki. not after a long while, your coffee is out, and dazai gets his beer. but he's just listlessly staring at your beverage —which adds to the pile of unusual behavior dazai has been displaying this whole afternoon.

"what's wrong?" you decide to play down your worry, "changed your mind about the coffee?"

if it was ranpo, and this coffee is a parfait, he would've jumped at the opportunity and gobbled your whole share. but this is dazai, who you never really hang out with, nor get to know better.

"no, i'm good," he chuckles, flicking the rim of his glass. "this just reminds me of the old days."

"old days? you used to come here often?"

"..yeah." he breathes out. if you notice the hesitation, you chose to not ask. "with some close friends," he continues.

"oh."

oh. you could've said something better. maybe something less passive. but you could never know with dazai. you're not even sure whether he —or yourself— really wants you to know about his past.

"well, i'm honored to have you take me here. does that mean i'm your close friend too?" you decide to skirt around the matter.

after setting his glass on the table, dazai momentarily sets his attention to the ceiling. his eyes are wide as if you just told him that dragons are real and are currently wrecking nowadays modern cities.

which they aren't, right?

"a close friend? that's one way to say it," he closes his eyes, expression softening to a relaxed smile.

"then, tell me, close friend," he turns his seat to face you. "do blessed people deserve to live?"

well, damn.

dazai always talks about methods of dying and all the things about suicide. you figure you'll have to get him some therapist to deal with his philosphical questions someday. you just didn't expect they'll come this soon.

"as for how you use 'your blessings,' well, you've gotten this far. so i figure you've found the answer to that one." dazai trails off, not minding your lack of response.

"let's see. then, i'll just answer that question for you," he doesn't stop. leaving you in a stupefied confusion with a cup of coffee barely drank. "they do deserve to live. it depends on how they use it. your blessings are not your fault."

now, that one rings a bell. no, rings a gong.

'your blessings are not your fault.' you knew there were more strings of sentences to that. but that particular sentence has been serving as a jargon that kept you going —from your young days of almost giving up until your most recent case regarding the falsely accused kunikida. your blessings are not your fault, so long as you work hard to use it to save people.

it has been simple, but life-changing words for you. yet, they were as motivating as they were anonymous. you've never really managed to grasp where you heard or read such saying from. a song? a book? some newspaper?

you take a more perceptive glance at the interiors of bar lupin, and everything comes into place. who knows you could only find the answer you've been looking for only after years later?

"dazai, was it you all along?"

the man sizes you up silently. to your eyes, he looks like a wise sage having his 'yes, it is i,' moment with his pupil. only after a few seconds of silence did he breathe out a sigh, "who knows?"

"so it is you!" you smile in excited glee. "you should've said something when i first joined the agency, geez."

(so you didn't remember everything, didnt remember that person).

dazai shows something akin of a raw downcast expression for a brief moment. but it could have been the beer you ended up caving-in to not long after.

for the next hour, you stayed at the bar: a half of it reminiscing about your school days and how you wound up in bar lupin out of other places; another half occupied by you prodding dazai about this mysterious 'bella' person and half listening to him ramble about apparently, the existence of this poisonous plant named 'belladonna,' as well as more double suicide offers using said plant.

a part of you couldn't really believe this concerning man was the same one who gave you an uplifting, life-encouraging words of wisdom. but you suppose it'll always be like that with dazai. you are sure atsushi can agree with you in a heartbeat.

"ah, it's gotten a bit too late," you glance at your wristwatch. "i was thinking of hopping a train and catch up with my parents for a bit.."

"your parents?!" dazai gasps, "bella, i know we're close. but don't you think this is too early? i'm not ready-"

"..nevermind," you return that 'uncharasterically exasperated' tone dazai gave you this afternoon.

retiring for the night, you excuse yourselves and thank the bartender, making sure to leave a little tip for making him put up with dazai's suicidal rambles.

as you walk through the late evening of ginza, side by side among the bright lights of worldly entertainments, you steal a glance at your eccentric coworker's side profile.

"thanks," you mumble out in a voice he might, or might not hear. for what, you're not sure. for saving your life? for inviting you in this getaway? for unveiling the identity of your mysterious motivator? for making that kind of expression like he has something more to say, but regretfully decides not to?

yet again, it could have been the alcohol. but he looks hauntingly beautiful. beautiful like the moon shining rays of soft glows that trail on his delicate, somewhat somber visage. unusual, you thought. but beautiful, nevertheless. but then again, the moon is beautiful because it's unreachable and far away, right?

note. you're a bit dense here, but the pining and slow burn is there if you squint hard enough :)

!spoilers! not long after this, this funny bandage man will get sent to prison to have some little mind game with another haha funny rat man. so if he wants to know if someone else remembers —or if he wants to help you remember— about the legacy of a close friend who has helped you both in going through life, it will have to be now.

i hope this make sense. i'm just vibing with those japanese citypop playlists throughout writing this haha

i wish the "blessing" thing was some clever literature reference, but it's just from this song and i thought, "hey, let's just use this!" then realized i've been mishearing the lyrics lmao

#[bungou stray dogs] #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu #hahahaha i dont know what i'm doing

[vibratingskull]

Home sweet home

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

Tag List

ThrawnxF!reader

It’s your first leaves and Thrawn and Eli already cry for help. In the ebullient city of Coruscant you go searching for an apartment, but the empire doesn’t treat its citizen the same.

You adjust your sunglasses, it’s a sunny day despite the clouds of pollution on Coruscant, and you can feel the wind in your hair. Leaning against the wall of the community shuttle stop you can’t resist to take a holograph of the beautiful sun and freiters rings on your imager. You will post it later. You put it away, pull down your hat on your head and observe the different ships passing in front of you in their mish mash of lines that ribbon the sky. It is early in the morning but traffic is already high. School children walk among the salarymans and other office workers. Some hail a cab while others choose to walk. A group of youths are playing hard bass much to the regret of some walkers. 

You approach the edge of the platform. That’s your shuttle. You enter, validate your ticket and take a seat. Head resting in your hand and forehead against the window’s glass you look outside as the ship took off, making your body vibrate.

It is your second leave since you took post in the marine, and you didn’t think you would have to pass it that way, but oh well. You start humming a new tone you’ve heard as the skyscrapers get blurry with the motion. This is gonna be a rough day for your muscles, it's gonna be tiring but it is to help a friend. 

You hold that though. 

Helping a friend. You bite your inner cheek. You're not gonna dwell on that again… Thrawn doesn't see you in any other way, accept it! 

But it is hard. Your reason tells you to cope with it but your heart cries every time, aching you from the inside. 

You shake your head. No! Enough with this defeated energy! 

You are young! 

With a promisng start to a great career! 

You always had your chance in the dating market, it's not gonna end now and you won't let it! You're not gonna wait for Thrawn forever and waste your best years, you need to dive right in, drink, fuck, smoke some spice (occasionaly) and make the most of your youth! Fuck this guy! Who does he think he is to shake you up like that? Starting today you take back control of your love life and forget him like the fling it was! 

You take out your comlink, searching your contacts. Who would you be down to spend time with? How about one of your new coworkers? There are a few of them you could bite into. No, it will get messy with work. Someone outside of that circle, then. Do you want a fuckbuddy or a grounded relationship? Anything that makes you forget him you decide. You scroll down the list, searching for your heart's desire. Suddenly a contact holds your attention. You consider it, your finger stopped mid-movement. Your pupil dilates considerably reading the name. 

________________________

"Thrawn wants what ?" You question, incredulous. 

"He doesn't want, he needs." Eli corrects. 

You put away your comlink for he doesn't hear you sigh at the comment. 

"That's a detail…" 

"He needs an apartment on Coruscant but he doesn't know anything about how we proceed here." 

You flick your tongue. 

"Can't he just stay at the barracks?" 

"No."

"... He has been thrown out?" 

"Yes."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Oh the headaches in perspective… 

"And why should I come? You don't need me for that, I have other plans than this." 

You can hear Thrawn in communication with someone else in the background. It's not going well apparently. 

"(y/n) please…" He lowers his voice so as to not be heard "Please! I don't want to go alone with him." 

Visibly Eli didn't forgive Thrawn yet. You consider the situation, your options and sigh again, defeated. 

"Alright…" 

"Thank you (y/n)!" Eli's evidently relieved. 

"But you pay for the beers!" 

He laughs

"If that's all it takes to buy you, consider it done!" 

The next day you embark on the first community shuttle towards Eli’s apartment. The day is gonna be long so you should as well come early. You quickly arrive at the address you received and enter the building. The space allowed for the housing is rather modest but it is well placed and the neighborhood seems to be quiet. Eli chose well, you tell yourself. 

In the stairs you cross paths with a Togruta, you feel yourself tensing up. She addresses you with a smile and you nod to her. You hope Eli won’t have any problem in the future. By reflex you tighten the collar of your coat and pick up the pace in the stairs. You finally arrive at Eli’s floor and knock on his door.

“One minute!” You hear.

You hear ruffling sounds and pressed steps then the door slides open and Eli appears, disheveled, in what appears to be pajamas and sleeps in his eyes. You smile at this sight. Behind him you see Thrawn crossing the room in uniform, the contrast couldn't be more striking. 

Eli lets you enter and immediately proposes to take your coat and offers you some caff like the good host that he is. You gladly accept, taking the time to observe the decoration of the apartment. Not all the boxes have yet been open, stacking up in the corner of the room. You notice the foliage plants on the shelves and counter, the paint of the wall is impersonal but the pictures frames offer some warmth. You stop to look at them. You can see Eli in different settings : at the beach, at the canyon, when he was a child and older, with his parents or with what you suppose to be his friends on Myomar, broad smile and sparkling eyes with his comrades. You continue to advance until you remark some images you took yourself and send to him after. One of them is a selfie of you in a classroom with Eli sleeping on the table and Thrawn concentrates on his datapad in the background, another one his a pictures of you, Eli and Karyn in the roof garden of the Academy, pressed against one another to ensure you could all be seen on the pictures, and the last one is Eli, you in the middle and Thrawn in your Gala’s formal dress. Eli smiles lightly, annoyed by the flash of the imager, you're holding their shoulders with a large smile and eyes closed, Thrawn seems to be frowning at something behind the imager. It is a terrible picture, but that’s what makes it goofy and interesting in your opinion.

Eli arrives at your side with your caff mug and you follow him into his living room, which is a mishmash of a kitchenette and a living area giving to a small balcony. His apartment is really similar to yours, you realize. You sit down on a pouf and wait to be briefed, savoring your hot caff. You take a look at the petite table in front of you, covered with flyers and papers about housing and apartments complexes.

“Sorry to have called you on such short notice, (y/n). But we could really do with another pair of hands with this.” Eli apologies profusely.

“So what are we doing today exactly?” You take a sip.

“We need to find him an apartment, so prospect, calls, arrange visits… Everything. We need to find him a place to live other than… here.”

“You live here?” You ask, rising your eyebrow

“I am in a position where I must abuse Ensign Vanto’s amiability.” Thrawn explains.

“We really need to find him another place to live!” Eli doubles down.

You shook your head looking at them bickering. 

And that is how you spent your day, rummaging through the flyers, comparing prices and surfaces, commodities, and a lot, a lot, of time on the comlink talking to real estate agents. You inherit this task because, according to Thrawn, “people will be more receptive to a woman”, whatever that’s supposed to mean because you did not book one appointment. Everything goes seemingly well until they learn about Thrawn being an alien.

“We don’t do business with aliens, I’m sorry.”

“But he’s a respectable lieutenant of the marine!”

“We are doing serious business here, do not bother us with jokes please.”

“You don’t understand, he-”

“It’s useless. Goodbye Ma’am!”

And they hang up.

Sometimes it’s you who cut off the conversation when the discussion descends into mockery on their part. Screams were exchanged at some point and you had to refrain from throwing your comlink against a wall. You sit back, fuming. A bunch of idiots!

Noon rings and your tummy growls in an unladylike manner. Those emotions really whet your appetite. You fumble around the kitchenette, wondering what you could cook.

“Breaktime!” Eli shouts, stretching his back. He stands up and comes to your side to discuss today’s menu. You decide to go for a timeless classic : pasta! Can’t do wrong with that.

While you cook, Eli’s exit the apartment to buy drinks and Thrawn stays slouched on the sofa, continuing to contact real estate companies via message. Eli comes back with beers as he promised yesterday and briquette of fruit juice for Thrawn. You don’t comment anything but there is a thing hilariously comic to Thrawn sipping those colorful briquettes with a straw like a child would. You bring the dish on the table in the middle with the cutlery.

“All the plates are dirty, so everyone picks up from the dish!” You announce.

You clink your drinks and start eating. You slurp the elongated green goodies while sipping your beer and searching for a steal online. When was the last time you passed a day like that? Slouching with friends, beers and dishes next to you without any authority figure in sight? At some point Eli puts on music and you start banging your head to the beat. You remember starting to dance with Eli when your head was close to explode with information and boredom. Waltzing like children in the living room, you laugh heartily together and almost get Thrawn to join. Almost.

Several beers after the evening was here and with it, its dark night despite the city’s lights. You’re laying down on the sofa next to Thrawn with a flier on your eyes, you completely lost track of time and a headache was rearing its head. You sigh.

“What have we got until now?”

“We have four visits tomorrow.” Thrawn announces, still contacting more companies.

“Four? Nice!” It’s a better result than what you hoped for.

You possibly had a solution to all that, but you’re not sure you want to use it. You try raising up but a dizziness seizes you.

“Ouch… What hour is it?” You pass your hand on your tired eyes.

“Nine.”

“Woaw, I need to go home but I can’t be arsed at the same time…” You have a furred tongue “Can I use your bathroom first?” You ask Eli.

“To your left.” He answers, doing the dishes.

You splash cold water to your face, scrubbing vigorously to wake you up. You look at yourself in the small mirror, tiredness visible on your traits.

“You should stay here tonight!” Eli proposes as you get out. “I have a spare mattress somewhere.”

You look at him disoriented.

“No it’s good, I can go home.” You answer.

“It’s dark and you’ve been drinking all afternoon, you should stay here.” He insists

What does he want?

“I’m not drunk.” You spit out annoyed, and lying a little “And I’m a grown girl, I can mind myself!”

He blocks you and puts his hands on your shoulder.

“I would be more at peace if I knew you were safe.” He pivots towards Thrawn. “She should stay here for the night, it is the most secure thing to do, right?”

“Perhaps.” Thrawn looks at you both, wondering why he was thrown into this.

“See, Thrawn agrees!”

“He did not.”

“(y/n)...”

He glances at you with a stare heavy of meaning.

Oh

Okay.

“I guess I can stay here tonight after all, I’m really tired.” You yawn.

Eli's shoulders relax, visibly relieved.

“I will prepare the mattress.” 

He takes out and splays a futon on the living room, you lay down and flap your legs.

“Put down your datapad, Thrawn. We are done for the day!” You order.

Against all odds he listens and puts it down silently, crossing his legs he slouches down the sofa.

“What can I offer to you guys?” Eli investigates.

“Pizzas and movies!” You chant.

He looks at Thrawn for his opinion.

“That sounds good to me, Ensign.” 

Eli leaves to buy pizzas and fizzy drinks, while you and Thrawn are tasked to select the movie for the night.

“What about this one ?” He proposes

“No, it’s too cheesy.”

“This one?”

“Too sad.”

“How about this one?”

“It’s a hassle”

He sighs 

“This one, maybe?”

“If I say no you will get angry?”

“No.”

“...I’ve already seen it.”

“Well I don’-”

“Hey! What about this one?” You cut him off, selecting the one you noticed. “It’s a thriller about a marine officer like us!” 

He considers it, reading the summary. He nods slowly.

“It looks promising.”

“I’ve got the pizzas!” Eli comes back, arms full with cardboard boxes and cans of coke. He threw them down on the table and let himself fall on the sofa. “What did you choose?”

“This one.”

“Cool, I haven't seen it yet!”

Everyone takes a slice of pizza and plays the movies. You’re completely absorbed by it, barely eating, taken by the suspence. Or that’s what you would have said if Thrawn didn’t stop talking.

“This is a bad strategy. They can get to him easily.”

“Shhh.”

“Why the politician don’t mind it’s business? They are not supposed to interfere in military matters!”

“Shhhhhhhh.”

“I see at least five ways to get away from this situation.”

“SHHHHHHHHHHH.”

“Ridiculous, those types of weapons do not do those types of damage. Typically they-”

“Shhhh! Good grief!”

You open wide eyes at the revelation of the real bad guys, Let a “Oh” escape you at the climax , and recoil at the explosion scenes. Finally it ends. You turn towards your friends and see Eli sleeping soundly on Thrawn's shoulder.

“Aaaaaaaaw…” You whisper.

“He did not last until the end...” Thrawn says, looking at him with softness in the tone.

He slides on the side and lays him down cautiously on the sofa as you put the plaid on him. 

“He must be exhausted.” You murmur.

“He works really hard on the Blood Crow.” He says softly.

“Really?”

“He is a good officer.” He nods

“Have you spoken since last time?”

His eyes dart on you but you don’t back down.

“No.” He admits.”We did not have the time to properly discuss our differences.” He takes a break. “But I am looking forward to it.” 

“It’s good.” You agree, eyes going back to the sleeping form of Eli. 

You both look at him sleeping peacefully, he looks like an angel like that, you thought.

“You should take the bed.” He whispers.

“You sure? I can take the futon, I don’t mind.” You counter.

“No, it would be impolite of me.” This is his sole argument.

“Alright, thanks. Goodnight Thrawn.”

“Goodnight, J.C.”

You enter the bedroom, take out your clothes and go to sleep. The night is calm and you sleep in a slumber without dreams.

The next day you're on your way to the visit in a shuttle, flipping through the necessary papers to present.

“Do we get the payslip?”

“Yep!”

“What will you do if they ask for a guarantor?” You ask.

“Will the Emperor be enough as a guarantor?” Thrawn answers bluntly.

You look at him dead in the eyes.

“Pray for them to have your humor…”

Good pick they never asked for a guarantor, wrong pick they had zero sense of humor. The first one slammed the door to your face when they saw Thrawn, the second one was mysteriously not disponible anymore, a family bought it they claimed and the third didn’t open, plain and simple. Despite that you thought you would have more chances with the fourth.

“All the rooms are well exposed and you're near amenities.” She tells with a professional smile.

You visit the apartment, passing from one room to the others. Nice, you think. A little away from the base but manageable. You sit on the bed, bouncing on it to test it.

“Which one of you is interested in this property?”

“It is me.” Thrawn announces.

It lasted less than a second but her eye twitched and you saw it. It surely didn’t escape to Thrawn either but he doesn’t formalize. She put back her professional mask quickly, searching on her datapad.

“So you have your identity papers, your payslips,... “ She lists, scrolling on the screen. “I think we are all good, we can discuss the price if you want.”

“Oh, we’ve seen the price on your website.” You add.

She looks at you with an enlarged smile, twitching a little.

“Well, the house reserves itself the right to change its prices.” She has a voice too joyous to your liking.

“What kind of prices are we talking about?” Thrawn asks politely.

You move closer with a bad feeling.

“Around those orders.” She turns her datapad to Thrawn and you read over his shoulder.

You choke.

“How much!?” You push him out of your way and seize the pad. “These are not the prices announced on the site!”

Eli comes into the room, alarmed by the ruckus.

“It's a regular procedure.” She’s searching for human complicity in you, but she finds only shock and anger.

“What?!” You shout. “This is stealing!”

She tries to take back the pad but you don’t let go.

“Well.” She smiles. ”He’s not human, so… We need more insurance and we have to adjust our prices.”

You will knock her off.

“You listen here, you preppy cow-”

“Alright that's enough for today!” Eli interjects, physically removing you from the apartment while you scream.

“It should be illegal! We will sue you!” You spit, dragged by them both in the street. “Thief!”

“So it concludes this for today.” Eli sighs, a bit discouraged

“Let us take a break.” Thrawn proposes, imperturbable, your total opposite.

“What!? How can you be so calm?!” You’re losing your breath shouting so much.

“It is useless ninety eight percent of the time, only a clear head can give you the result you aspire to.” He responds in a conversational tone.

“But she tried to scam you!”

“Then consider you went furious on my behalf, it is sufficient for me.” He’s completely unbothered. Your jaw drops, sometimes you just can’t follow him. “Let us find a bar and refocus.” 

He doesn’t wait for any response and starts walking, you follow them shuffling along, shooting in garbage on your way.

They found a charming pub, and took a table outside under the blazing sun, but you're in no mood to appreciate the setting. You let yourself fall into the chair with a huff, they sit down with more manners and order for the group. You let out a big audible sigh and let your head rest on the table completely discouraged. Your solution comes back in your mind but you chase it away. The jazzy tune of the bar reaches your ear, and you start humming it.

“Well that was rather unsuccessful…” Eli let out, slouching in his seat.

“A temporary setback.” Thrawn temporizes, his hand holding his chin. “This situation will solve itself in one way or another, let us keep searching.”

“You’re right! There are still a lot of real estate companies on Coruscant. We will target those working with non-humans!” Eli cheers.

You sigh again. You don’t share their optimism, actually this unfortunate day completely 

done you in. You only deign rising from the table when your drinks arrive. You drink your juice absent-mindedly. You should have taken something stronger. Thrawn and Eli are talking in the background of your mind, your solution imposed itself to you once again. Should you present it to them? You hesitate.

“Look Thrawn. There is a spot for street art up in the street.” Eli exclaims 

“Indeed. Shall we get a look?” Thrawn proposes.

You slouch on your seat.

“You can go boys, I will keep the table while you're gone.” You incite them.

They rise to see the spot and you’re now alone with your thoughts. You inhale deeply and massage the back of your neck, thinking about this. You recently inherited an apartment from your great uncle, but you have memories inside this apartment. You’re not sure you want to get rid of it… Someone puts their hand on your shoulder.

You bolt away, turning toward the stranger and meeting with a charming smile. The blonde man looks at you with sparkling eyes, fanning himself with a fan. You recognize him instantly.

“I knew I’ve seen you somewhere.” He says, sitting down in front of you. “You were on this test at the Academy 4 months ago, right?”

“Governor Satlove…” You answer. “I mean, yes! Yes, I was at the exam. But what are you doing here, if I may?”

“I’m here undercover.” 

You frown.

 “I am here to escape from my duties.” He explains, putting one finger to his lips.

Indeed you notice he’s not into his green uniforme but a more casual white shirt he opened slightly, letting the sun warm up his pale skin. 

“You can… Just do that?”

“Of course not!” He laughs “I had to escape from my different aids to come here. But I stay contactable just in case.” He shows you his comlink. “But tell me rather, what are you doing here?” He gestures towards you.

“Me? I hum… I’m with friends. They are looking at the street art a little further.” You don’t especially want to talk but you don’t want to sever some links with a governor that could be proven useful in the future.

“The little brunette and the blond one?” He investigates.

“No the dark blue… The blue guy. And the brunette. You have a really good memory, Governor.”

“Thank you, I take good care of it. And you can drop the Governor thing, we are almost the same age.”

“Then should I call you sir?”

“Call me by my name!” He extends his hands to you. “Pleased to meet you, I am Nather.”

 You shake his hand with a grin.

“Pleased to meet you, I am (y/n).”

“(y/n)! What a charming name, it suits you very well.” He almost chants. You feel your face heated up with the compliment. “What are you doing lately? What were your orders after the exam?”

“I’m a Private First Class on the Zephyr Heavy Cruiser. We have been patrolling inside the inner rim and the colonies lately.”

“I think your ship was planned to patrol around my planet recently.” He says a hand to his chin.

“Which planet, if I may?”

“The charmant Tirahnn planet.” He displays a theatrical gesture, letting his braid fly from shoulder to shoulder.

It’s a planet right on a hyperspace lane if you recall correctly. You can’t say more.

“I’ve never seen it.” You confess. And barely heard of it you complete in your head.

“I will make you visit if you wish one day, or you will come yourself for a mission.” He starts folding one of the napkins around. “What are you doing in my region if I may ask in turn?”

You think rapidly, you should be able to tell that to a governor even if you don’t know any details, it should be okay.

“If i’m not mistaken, we are suspecting pirates to rob slaves of the empire.”

“Pirates near my planet?” He takes a choked expression. “That won’t do, I will need to pass some calls!” He finishes his folding in a crane and deposes it in front of you with a side smile. 

You smile back but it fades quickly.

 “What happens (y/n)? I see in your face, you seem to have some worries.” He asks genuinely concerned.

“Oh nothing important, just… rehashing some thoughts."

"Those looked like important thoughts." He mind-absently picks some salted nuts from the ball and throws them expertly into his mouth. 

"I hesitate to help a friend, I…" 

He darts his incisive gray eyes on you. 

"You hesitate to help a friend? I do not need to tell you that it should be an easy answer." 

"Yes, I mean no. I want to help my friend. It's just that I should renounce something I hold dear to my heart for the memory it holds. And I don’t know if I’m ready for it."

He frowns, contemplating the fact in front of him and searching for an option.

“Would it fulfill its goal?”

“Sorry?”

“The thing you’re not sure to let go, would cede it to your friend to fulfill its primary purpose?”

“Yes?”

“Then you should give it away. I suppose you don’t have a practical use for this thing or you would have advanced this argument, so you should as well cede it to your friend and permit it to fulfill its primary goal. Helping a friend is always the way to go.”

“But… I’ve got memories…”

“You will always have them! Those memories are in you, not in this thing. Don’t grow too attached to material objects, they are not built to last but our memories are in our heart and forever. “ 

You wrap your head around the argument, weighing the pros and cons.

“Maybe you're right…” You end up saying.

“Maybe I am indeed, what would you actually lose? You would hand those precious memories to a friend, there are more unfair deals in life don’t you think.”

You slowly nod coming to terms with your decision. He’s right. You hold your glass with two hands, taking a big sip at the straw.

“I think I’m gonna follow your advice and help my friend. I think I just needed a third party opinion to push me.”

“Wonderful!” He takes Thrawn’s glass and clink it with yours. “I’m glad I could help.” And takes a great sip of it. You choke on yours.

“Huh, sir…?”

“You know what, we’ll surely hear again about those pirates. We should stay in contact.” He hands you his comlink and gestures to you to give him yours. You exchange them and enter your respective number.

“Sir, this is my drink you're drinking!” Thrawn appears behind him with Eli on his heels.

Surprised, his sight goes between Thrawn and the glass. He laughs heartily.

“I am sorry dear friend! I will return it to you.” He hands him back his glass, raising from the chair. He gives you back your comlink with a charming smile. “Here you go. To our next meeting!”

You all three look at him walking away, making some calls.

“What was that?” Asks Eli, a bit lost.

“I am… not sure.” You respond.

They both sit back and Thrawn considers his well diminished drink with a raised brow.

It dawns on you that he doesn't need a Private First Class to discuss the subject of pirates and that you just gave him what he wanted. Damn, the guy is good! You think. You berate yourself a little.

“So, back on the apartment subject…” Eli starts.

“I… May have a solution to propose to you, guys.”

____________________________________________________________

The sound of an incoming message brings you back to the present time. You lower your gaze to your comm.

“I am delighted to hear from you again. How about tomorrow, 14h?”

You smile, and answer back, the heart light. 

You soon arrive at your stop, you get out, and start walking on the trails of your childhood. You traverse a park full of kiddos and their parents and grin at their laugh and their shoutings. You arrive in front of the apartment complex, entering, you cross paths with the old building caretaker.

“Oh, if it isn’t the young (y/n)! How are you doing?” She asks with her shivering voice.

“Hi, Ms Lynduty! I’m good and you?”

“Oh you know, my old bones make me suffer, but that’s the weight of the years. The young man you brought with you…”

An alarm sets off in your head, and on the other hand you're amused to hear Thrawn being qualified as a “young man”, maybe everyone looks young at this age…

“Is there a problem? He has done something?”

“No, he’s a really calm resident, It changes me from your uncle who kept bringing new women everyday! But he looks like he has some problem with all his mail.”

“I’m glad to hear that, Ms Lynduty, I’m actually here to help him. Have a nice day!” And you start working your way up the stairs.

You reach the floor soon enough and Thrawn opens his door the second you set foot on the landing.

“Thank you J.C., I am in need of assistance.”

He welcomes you and takes your coat, you enter the apartment, immediately graced by the cardboard boxes everywhere. You’re not surprised, the furniture inside the apartment was not… what you would find inside the flat of a respectable lieutenant of the marine, or any respectable person per say. A complete change of furniture was in order. You note with amusement he already has displayed holograms of art everywhere in the flat despite not having furniture.

You traverse the room as well as you can, slaloming between the boxes, the tins of paint and the tarps and sitting down on one of them.

“So, what’s the problem?”

He gestures to the pile of mail on the table. A big pile. Oh gods.

“I do not possess the vocabulary to treat those yet.” He simply notes.

You nod with a pout, well that’s gonna be fun.

“Eli couldn't help you?”

“Ensign Vanto is with his family for this leave.” He explains.

So while Thrawn is busy assembling furniture for his flat, you’re answering and filing up those mails while giving him a vocabulary lesson. Insurance, bills, tax… Everything the bureaucracy could produce, you saw it! You arrange them on the floor,stepping over it with a highlighter in hand and a pen in your mouth to complete them. It took you several hours and as much beer, generously provided by Thrawn, nonetheless to rummage through all this. You were well fed up at the end of it, with your head ready to explode.

But you couldn’t rest once you’re done, you still have to help Thrawn with his furniture and remove this unsavory fur off the walls. You had to screw, to glue, to turn, to plug, you didn’t have the time to be bored. The hours flew bye and you were far from finished. Damn those instruction manuals, they’re never in the right language. And there is always a set of screws that wasn’t used at the end and that’s not normal, so you have to reread all the instructions and bicker on what step you screw up based on the illustrations. 

“I told you the board B5 goes there.”

“But that is not possible, the C7 plank can not fit in this configuration.”

You only put up four pieces of furniture together and the rest of the boxes are staring down at you. You left out a sigh of fatigue. You’ll never see the end of it…

You massage your temples, this time you really have a headache. You put down your beer and walk in a not very straight way to sit on a cardboard box to observe your work. Thrawn finishes building up the shelf and takes some steps back to get a good look. Something hits you as you embrace the room with your sight.

“Shouldn’t we have started with the paint ?”

“It would be for another day.” He states with a soft voice.

You lazily nod. You already have all the other furniture to put up, another thing added to the list. Great. Thrawn turns his head to the window. It’s night. 

“We shall stop for today.”

“Good, cause I'm not good at anything for now.” You rise up and stumble your way to open the window and get some fresh air, you fan yourself with your hand. You drinked a bit too much, you realize. 

Thrawn removes his jacket to reveal his black tank top and you take advantage of the opportunity to take a good look at his biceps without too much discretion, he heads towards the kitchen.

“We should at least eat one meal. Are you hungry?”

That’s right, you didn’t even eat at noon you recall, at the moment this thought crosses your mind your stomach grumbles.

“It looks like so!”

“What could please you?”

You straighten up with a broad smile.

“Pizza?”

He shots you a glare.

“I had a more healthy meal in mind.”

You pout, it was worth the shot.

You finish your beer admiring him cooking, watching his hands fly expertly from one pan to the other, mincing and mixing the ingredients. You hold back a burp, hiding your mouth with your hand, you may be a bit drunk but you didn’t renounce your dignity yet. And you didn’t want to appear unladylike in front of him… Mostly that. You start thinking if you should care about that since you decided to renounce him, but it just worsens your headache.

“It is ready!” He announces, wiping his hands. “But I’m not yet familiar with your products, so I can’t promise you the taste.”

“I’m sure it will be delicious!” You cheer.

You reel back to your former place and sit down. He watches you from head to toes but doesn’t say a thing. You seize your fork and take a big bite of the dish. You wrinkle your nose. Indeed cooking is not part of his skills, the savors are unbalanced and the spice is overshadowing everything. You gulp it down, trying to keep your face as neutral as possible and shoot him a smile. You decide that you’re too drunk to care and take others bites one after the other, letting them burn the inside of your mouth with pleasure.

“I think it would be wiser if you sleep here tonight.” He says, stirring his food.

You blink mid-bite, stopped in your movement.

“No offense but you are not walking straight. I can offer you a bed for the night if you wish.”

You consider the offer, taking a sip of water. You clearly didn’t learn your lesson from the last time and you actually feel pretty wasted right now, you hardly see yourself going home in one piece tonight. You slouch back and pretend to think about it for a second. You raise your hand.

“I will gladly accept in this case!” You slide your tongue on your teeth.”I will help you place the mattress!”

“I do not have one.”

Your eyes slide to the sofa’s box still not put up and goes back to him with questions.

“Then where…?”

“I thought we could share the bed for the night.” He spills, concentrates on his plate. 

Your bite takes the wrong way in your throat and you try to cough it out. Hold on, you didn’t sign up for that!

“Wait, you’re sure?” You ask, instantly sobered up.

 He shruggs.

“I do not see how this could be a problem.” 

“I don’t have any pajamas.” You try. 

“I will lend you something, do not worry.” He appears unfazed, completely blind to your trouble.

Oh you worry, yes, but not about that.

“Cool…” You let escape in one breath “Thanks…”

________________________________________________

How did you end up in this situation?

You promise yourself to forget him and you end up in his bed. Fate has a twisted sense of humor. 

You release your breath. Calm down. Your headache doesn’t help anything.

You open your eyes in the dark room and listen to the quiet and steady breath next to you, at least one of you two is getting some sleep. But not you. You’re too tense to sleep. You hunch, trying not to touch the man sleeping next to you, pulling the covers to your chin. 

At least he had changed bed and got rid of this horrid shell bed for a standard double bed  and all the weird appliances are not here anymore. Now the bedroom looks like it came from a show home. Without personality, only practical. Cold…

But the bed is far from cold, without grazing him you can feel the warmth of Trawn’s body from where you are and you feel like you could sweat, but this may be because of your burning body. You were afraid he would sleep topless when you got to the bed, but thanks for your sanity he put on a shirt, or you would really have lost your mind. It doesn’t take much to ignite your desire lately and being in the same bed as him, so close and so far away, alarm all of your senses to the brink of overstimulation. You breathe deeply, getting back control. His scent fills the room, making you feel dizzy. You bury yourself under the cover but you smell him on it and on the pajama he lended you, you float in this shirt too large for you, you feel goosebumps point at every breath. Anywhere you go he envelopes you.

You turn your head, observing the profile that detaches itself from the wall lighted up by the moon through the blinds. You follow the line of his forehead with your eyes, the shadow of a disheveled hair strand, the curve of his eyelids that let red light pierce through, the arc of his turned-up nose, the plumpness of his lips… You gulp, your throat suddenly dry like the desert.

You keep your gaze fixated on him, telling yourself that heaven was closer than you know, that you would just have to expend your arm to reach it… You hold your breath, brushing his cheek with the back of your fingers, feeling the softness and the warmth of his skin, tender. You touch his lash with the tip of your finger, smiling at him squinting at the touch. Then your hand sneaks its way along his neck, brushing softly his apple then traveling south to his chest. You feel the fabric on the palm of your hand, you search for a second, opening your hand wide when you find his heart, feeling the steady and calm heartbeat, you savor the delicious vibrations through your skin, wanting to put your head on his chest to hear it yourself. It soothes you and you close back your eyes, ready to let the slumber take you.

Suddenly his heartbeat accelerates and his breath gets caught up in his throat. You rise on your elbow, wary of what's happening. He opens his eyes in a flash and you pull back your hand instantly. His eyes blinks, fixated on the ceiling and you hear him out of breath. He inhales and exhales several times, you look at him with googly eyes wondering what might have happened. He frowns.

“You are not sleeping.” This was not a question.

He turns his head towards you and your gazes meet. You smile lightly.

“Indeed. Nothing escapes you.”

He sighs, passing a hand over his face and ruffling his hair.

“Is everything good?” He politely asks.

You raise an eyebrow.

“It’s I who should ask that? What just happened?”

“Nothing.” He breathes

Sometimes he really takes you for an idiot, you think.

“So, “nothing” can put you in this state?” You inquire.

He sighs once again, fatigued. You feel like he’s gathering his thoughts, a hand in his hair.

“I was dreaming about… My sister. The day they took her…”

You nod pensively, it was indeed not the most peaceful memory he must have. You put your head back on the pillow, sight still on him.

“How does this make you feel?” You whisper like a secret.

“Powerless, like a child. I promised myself I would fight to never feel this again.”

There are a lot of promises getting thrown everywhere those days you thought. You put yourself closer, as if your presence would comfort him. His eyes on the ceiling you see the muscles of his throat tightens slightly.

“And… alone. I was the sole person in the cold universe.”

Did his voice crack at the end? You can’t say for sure. Your hand travels under the cover to find his, you seize it, the warmth spreading through your palm. You know how it feels and you sympathize with his pain. You would have liked to have someone when it happened to you.

“We are here.” You murmur. “I am here.” You affirm with a reassuring voice.

He squeezes your hand.

“I know.” He closes his eyes. “And I am grateful for it.”

Your heart flutters at those words and a smile grazes your lips. You don’t have the relationship you are hoping for, but you could satisfy yourself in being the friend of this out of the ordinary being. For now. 

Maybe.

“Me too...”

You’re met with silence. You listen and hear a steady breathing. He’s asleep. You hold his hand, putting your head against his shoulder and let a single tear rolling down your cheek.

You squeeze his hand, intertwining your fingers.

You will never be satisfied by it. Never. You will need to cut ties with him and keep your distance or your heart will bleed everyday.

You kiss him on the cheek, taking your resolution, tearing your heart apart. 

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar

#thrawn x reader #thrawn x y/n #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth’raw’nuruodo

[rabbitcruiser]

Marine Building, Vancouver (No. 1)

The Marine Building is a skyscraper located at 355 Burrard Street in Downtown Vancouver, near the Financial District. Completed in 1930, at the time of its opening it was the city's tallest skyscraper and it is listed among the best Art Deco buildings in the world. It owes its name to the plethora of fine marine-themed ornaments that decorate it. Because of its architecture and interior decorations, the building has been chosen as the setting of a number of film and television productions.

The building was conceived by Lt. Commander J.W. Hobbs, an entrepreneur from Toronto. Hobbs recognized that the opening of the Panama Canal in 1914 would greatly increase Vancouver's importance as a commercial port, and decided that the city needed a grand building, in the vein of the newly constructed Chrysler Building in New York. The design was assigned to McCarter Nairne and Partners, who had never worked on the design of a skyscraper before. Construction started on March 13, 1929 as reported by a local newspaper:

Yesterday morning, His Worship Mayor W.H. Malkin blew a blast on a golden whistle and with it set in motion the steam shovel that will excavate the site for the new Burrard Street Marine skyscraper.

Source: Wikipedia

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