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kazumist · 5 months

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EPISODE 18 ♡ KISS ME BEFORE I GO?

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL — A SCARAMOUCHE SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 1062.

cw: more drinking (sorry), more profanities too, a kiss somewhere in there (is that really a warning?)

“we leave you alone for one second, and you’re already picking fights.” kazuha scolds kuni as soon as he gets back to their table.

kunikuzushi doesn’t know how you and heizou got to the table as well. but now, you’re all sitting around and playing “spin the bottle”. the game is simple, you spin the bottle, and whoever it lands on has to take a shot.

the bottle stops spinning.

and it lands on you.

“hand it over.” you downed the shot of tequila.

you again.

“i’ll take it.” kuni says. he got glances from the others but they gave him the shot anyway.

lyney spins the bottle, but it lands on you again.

what fuck is up with this bottle? you thought.

“i’ll also—” kuni gets cut off by someone.

“i’ll take it," heizou says.

the tension was getting thicker.

the bottle was spun again, but this time it landed on kuni. you took the shot for him.

one last spin, and it lands on you again.

“me.”

both kuni and heizou said it at the same time.

“to kuni.” lyney slides the shot over to him.

“fucking hell, it’ll take me a years to get drunk at this point.” you said, grabbing the bottle from lyney and drinking the remains in seconds. there wasn’t that much left anyway, so you were still good.

“okay, next game! this one is a personal favorite. it’s called king’s cup. each of you will pick out a card, and each card corresponds to an action. kuni, would you mind doing the honors of shuffling our lovely deck?” lyney says.

as soon as kuni stops shuffling the deck, the game starts. “kazuha, you go.”

“three of hearts. three means me. i’ll take two shots, then.” kazuha says, downing the two drinks immediately.

“lynette, you’re up next.”

“nine, rhyme. let’s go with lie.”

“sky.” kazuha replies.

“fly.” lyney’s eyes slowly watch over everyone.

“cry.” you said. kuni looks at you.

“try.” heizou looks at kuni.

“die.” kuni returns the favor.

yanfei was far too busy looking at a certain pigtailed girl in the dancefloor to even notice that it’s her turn. “time’s up, fei. drink up.”

“shit, sorry.” yanfei drank her shot right after.

“kuni, it's your turn.”

“eight, mate.” kunikuzushi says. “pick a drinking buddy.” he already knows who he's gonna pick. “you.” heizou.

“game.” heizou smirked.

the “mates” chugged down another shot of tequila and had a short staring contest. heizou was the first one to look away, leaving kunikuzushi smirking in victory. kuni looks in your direction, only to find you already staring at him.

when it was heizou’s turn, he seemed delighted with the card he got. “queen, question master," he says. “are you single by any chance?” he points at kazuha.

“huh?”

“i’m asking you if you're single.”

“why? aren't you and (name)...” kazuha was confused. very confused.

“what? are you serious? i’m hitting on you for fuck's sake!”

“well, i am. can i have your number by any chance?”

kunikuzushi was left fucking dumbfounded by that. what did this mean? he was apparently jealous over nothing. does this mean he has a chance now?

“my turn," you say. kuni’s eyes shifted towards you immediately. “queen as well, question master.”

“kuni.” a few ‘oohs’ could be heard. “who was the girl you picked up back then at the bus stop near uni?”

“huh?” he didn't process that one immediately.

“wait, what?”

“you heard me, kuni. answer the question.”

kuni took a bit of his time to think about what you were referring to, and now he finally remembers, “that was my cousin.”

“what the fuck? so it wasn't another girl? what about the one you talked about earlier?”

“i don't even know who that was. she said she liked me, but whatever. there was never another girl, but maybe for you there was another guy.” kunikuzushi whispers the last sentence, but you still hear him.

“excuse me? the fuck do you mean another guy when the guy you thought i was with is literally flirting with your best friend? did you even realize they left the table already?” you defended yourself.

kuni raises an eyebrow at you. “but he kept taking your shots?”

“oh, i was just messing with you. you look funny when you're mad, like a pissed off cat," heizou says, kuni curses at him in return.

and kuni drank another shot, now cursing at himself for how stupid he was. you also drank out of frustration over what had just happened.

soon after, you all decided it would be best to go home when lyney finally got himself drunk after hosting the two games earlier. kuni pulls you away from the crowd in an attempt to leave the bar first. after bribing the bouncer, you two stood near the entrance.

“i can't drive. so kazuha is going to take you home. they'll be out in a bit," he says. the others started going out one by one, but kunikuzushi held you by the shoulders before you could leave. “listen to me.”

“by the time you wake up tomorrow, tell me that you love me. tell me that you're finally willing to let me love you the way that you deserve to be loved. tell me you want me.” his face was dangerously getting closer to yours.

“i’ve said this too many times to count, but i love you. i’ll never get tired of saying it because it's true. i love you, (name). always have, and always will. forever and always.”

“kuni, i’m honestly drunk right now, and i don't know shit, but i do know that i love you too.”

“there you go.” he boops your nose. “see you.”

“kiss me before i go?”

“hmm, maybe when you show me that you love me as much as i love you, then sure," he says, starting to walk away from you.

“ah, fuck it.” he turns around and walks back fast.

his lips brushed over yours softly. the kiss was gentle and slow, enough for him to relish the moment and enough for you to taste the alcohol from his lips.

it felt right—perfect, even.

when you got into the car, kuni decided to stay out a bit more late.

and both of you could not wait for tomorrow to come.

extra notes.

i believe this is my cue to not update for the rest of the month /j

i told u all it gets better

taglist (open): @yinyinggie @blue-b3rries @ryuryuryuyurboat @your-local-reblogging-kazoo @lilikags @haliyamori @diorlumx @mamafly @zuunotsane @iloveosamuu @featuredtofu @kana-de @xiaoderrrr @f1orent1ne @alhaitie @yelleloww @brain-r0tt @jamieexistss @danfelions @e0nssadrift @lovemari @kunikissr @chluuvr @lazy-sanns @lxkeeeee @swivy123 @sketcheeee @quacking-simp @tiredslepz @vxcmx @kichiy0shi @yingofthemoon @feiherp @sicut-sol @mayuumine @xiaosoneandonly @xtobefreex @bananasquash @im-the-ruler-here @hiraethhv @yumiaur @oughhhhmamamia @beriiov @cindywasneverhere @klanxii @fangygf @draclula @aromaticism @shotosjupiter @lyzisbitchingagain @lovelykrystal @riraaya @aether-darling @kochothehoe [1/2]

#( smau — how you get the girl ! )#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smau #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi #x reader

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beababoobies · 4 months

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Omg, you did the request for angst- YIPEEE, TEARS!!!

I couldn't save my tears, I drank them, so have my blood instead, queen 🍷

Anyway- after good angst, fluff comes to the rescue for a smile!

So maybe by some magical reason, or pure determination on Cherri's party, She gets redeemed and goes to heaven. She spends her days there just chillin livin her life, then she bumps into sir Pentious? Maybe when they meet, Sir Pentious just stands there like a deer in headlights, and she goes over to him in her usual sass, but in the inside, she just wants to cry to him or smthn.

Then maybe, Sir Pentious gathers his courage and asks her out?

Happy ending! Maybe.

I want them to be happy damnit-

Yes. Sobs. Yes. I want them to be happy too. Thank you for the blood, it has a lil sweetness to it, yummers!!! Here’s some cherrisnake FINALLY BEING FUCKING HAPPY in return. Enjoy my love!

Together Again

Cherrisnake my beloved, words : 1k.

After nearly ten months of rehab, seeing most of the other residents achieve angelic status, even being clean for four of those months (because Charlie and Vaggie took away her drug stash, but wtv, still counts losers!) she had went to sleep the same way as she usually did, saluting Pentious’ portrait and as she had starting doing, blowing a little kiss to it, going outside to drop some flowers at his grave and finally tucking herself into bed, she fell asleep.

But this felt… different. She felt like she was only asleep for maybe a couple seconds before she felt the thud of warm marble floors beneath her, scrambling to her feet and reaching into her back pocket for an emergency bomb - only to find nothing there. She opened her eye, only to have to close it quickly because of the shining golden light of the ceiling above. Then there was an excited squeal, and an Angel rushed towards here

“A new sinner! A new sinner has reached rehabilitation!” She squealed out, reaching out to help Cherri with her bearings, only for Cherri to flinch away, staring at her, completely bewildered. She knew she had been making progress, but she had no clue it was this much progress. She almost felt disappointment that she was here already.

“Oh! Where are my manners?” The sarafim chirped excitedly, reaching out her hand for Cherri to cautiously shake, only to pull back in shock when her hands were now laces with hints of gold. “I’m Emily, or Em, or - just call me whatever! I’m the second sarafim of heaven, congratulations on making angelic status!” She said with a big smile. Cherri nodded slowly, still taking in her bearings. She would miss Pentious’ portrait.

She spent her first couple days walking around aimlessly in the golden-rimmed, shiny palace that was heaven. She found out you could still fight in heaven, but it was a safe sort of contest, or sport. And there wasn’t any deadly weapons, either. It was safe. She couldn’t lie and say there wasn’t nothing in Hell she missed, but it was comfortable up here. Like the calm after the storm.

At the end of her first week, she decided to finally go out for drinks at a popular angelic bar. There was no hangovers here, Em had explained. And the liquor, she had found out, tasted unbelievably pleasant. No one was knocking into her, or groping her. No one was cornering her at gunpoint. People would come up and talk to her about more than just trying to get into her pants.

And the best part? You could still go to town on the dance floor. And unlike she had originally joked, they still had catchy music and her favourite songs playing at clubs. That became most of her nightly routine, to try and start to recover from the pain of losing Pentious as quickly as she got him. Dancing out and about with angels, because she still, secretly, couldn’t think of herself as one.

That was, until she accidentally bumped into a tall stranger, falling back slightly before she started apologizing, which was something Charlie had taught her about while she was still in rehabilitation. She thought she was quite good at it by now. She thought that until the tall stranger turned around and stole all the words from her throat for a second.

He was even more handsome, gold accents now covering his body as his eyes grew wide, words seeming to get stuck in his throat as well. She chuckled softly, snapping herself back out of her bewildered state. Be cool, Cherri. She thought. It was one kiss. She told herself. He’s probably forgotten now.

“You fucker!” She chuckled out with her usual tone, punching him playfully and lightly in the arm, looking up at him with her eye that let him see right through her words, right into the rope that was squeezing her heart so hard it felt like it might burst. “You look even worse than when you last sacrificed yourself for us!” She tried at another sarcastic hit, only to be met with the same shocked silence, before his face melted into pure adoration.

“Don’t give me the goo-goo eyes, pleassseee.” She jokes, trying to avoid them, because she knew she’d melt just the same, swallowing thickly as he put his hand on her cheek, tilting her face to look up at his. Her bottom lip trembled.

“I didn’t know how you could look even prettier.” He mumbles out quietly, watching tears start to form in her eye as she tries to blink them away to no avail, blush spreading over her cheeks, just the same as the day he’d kissed her. “But you’ve gone and proved me wrong, Missss Cherri Bomb.” He mumbled out softly, leaning in slightly, eyes trailing to her lips and back up to eye, now a beautiful ocean blue.

She sniffles softly, words stuck in her throat before he scoops her up by the curve of her back, dipping her down as he kissed her - just like months ago, his hand squeezing at her like she would slip out of his grip at any moment. She melted into the kiss, pressing her lips back against his, feeling back in the moment. Feeling a missing piece of her click back into place, finally.

He finally pulled his lips off her, looking down at her with adoration swimming in his eyes, and she just smiles, blushing as she finally looks him in the eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that again, Miss Cherri.” He mumbled out softly.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for you to do it again, Pentious.” She replied with a smile, tears in her eye finally breaking and a small stream of her tears running down her cheek as she put her hands onto the back of his head, eyeing his lips.

“One more time for good measure.”

#cherrisnake #cherri bomb x sir pentious #hazbin cherri bomb #sir pentious x cherri bomb #hazbin sir pentious #sir pentious #hazbin charlie #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #hazbin hotel spoilers #im screaming

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istarveforplatonicptnstuff · 21 days

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Commiting tax evasion with Bai yi as your ceo...

Girl... I don't even know how you got here but... You were very likely HIGHKEY scammed by miss gurl... 🦗🦗🦗 Yeah... Why did you apply in a shady company anyways...? But you probably was LOOKING 👀 for a job that can PAY the bills 💵💵💵 but spoilers, you were UNDERPAID, OVERWORKED, and most esp. Not even paid anyways... 🙄🙄🙄 So forget what I said about being paid little because girl you are not paid even once while you were working with this stink... 😑

You decided to apply for a job position as her assistant... In Syndicate. Pooks... This should've been your first red flag, but NOPE! You were DESPERATE. For what though? 🤨 And the flyer wasn't... That great like sis... Again, another red flag... Couldn't you just... 🏃‍♀️💨 away from the moment you saw the flyer? (/j I'm holding you in 😰🔫 point so, you didn't have a choice anyway 💅) But who even reads nowadays as long as, we get PAID 🤑🤑🤑 right? So, fast forward to you clutching your pearls and barely making it out alive to meet with the interviewer... Maam. Major red flag, the building looked run-down.

Pookie... 🤧 You didn't almost get stabbed, kidnapped, mugged, and possibly even get robbed for your kidney for this... 😭😭😭 Finally, your employer shows up in this DRIP 💧, what you doing???

Remember when I said that you have the option to say no? I didn't say anything 😇 The thing is, you can't. You just CANT. Look me in the eye and tell me that this girl wouldn't do SHIT to you rn... Be serious, because I don't even think you're gonna walk out of the interview scot free sis... Nah uh, not at all... Sis looks like she is about to beat the SHIT out of you, and will most likely sell your organs after that... 🥺🥺🥺 Luckily, she spoke up and had that mom vibe that you almost instantaneously calm down...

After hyperventilating and K.K giving you odd looks as well... Finally you were in the "company" Yay? 🧍‍♀️ You stood there staring at the dusty ass couch and a man who looked VERY sleep-deprived. You learned that Che was their name. But why is he dressed up like he about to go for a hike...? Sighs, i don't think you'll ever get the fashion of Syndicate... You and the two held a mini staring contest like you two were Communicating, that K.K was confused at the random moment she had to snap ya'll out of it and discuss the job details... The job being, you doing all the paperwork... For 50 discoins per hour. Stink, you're screwed 😃

Obviously, you were about to decline... Until finally, the CEO showed up. Sighs. You ask to yourself, was this really worth the trip and the STRUGGLE you went through? Stink cannot even bribe you with her face card because you still had to pay the billssssss 😞

Bai yi shows up, you hear the sound of sirens and cops speaking through the megaphone. 🤡 You really thought this was going to be the las time you'll be seeing daylight, like sis you were going to JAIL. ⛓⛓⛓ For existing. The three of them noticed and explains casually that this is their hideout, and no one's breached here before. You raised a brow at the statement, skeptical at how relaxed they were acting 🤨🤨🤨 Like who you fooling??? Though you can't speak for yourself when, you waltzed into Syndicate knowing DAMN well that this place was bad news... So you kept it to yourself 🥰

Of course, Bai yi bribes you to stay and become Whitestone Industries assistant with a sob story that can make you cry... Except you weren't gullible enough and walked out of the door, preferring to get arrested instead, lmao 🤭🤭🤭 Sis chased you down the stairs like it was a kdrama scene, grabbing your arm and acting like this was the last time ya'll seeing each other 💀 girl, you can never escape her because she's all over and like, she's a criminal, what else? 🤓 You ended up accepting in the end, because you wasted your time for this... Making K.K sigh in relief since she finally isn't alone with two idiots... Unless you add up to the equation then... 😶

Timeskip to a month, you and sis was WORKING. Helping them out with ✨Graphic design is my passion✨ motto since you wanted to get rid off the... Terrible... Designs that they come up with when they release an ad, flyer, or promotion post. You kinda got used to the usual, illegal work they do because why not? 😎 You already gave up in paying the bills, so why not commit tax evasion as well, right? You asked Bai yi tips on how to tax evade 🏃‍♀️ K.K was beyond mortified at the sudden camaraderie that came after the event, making you and Bai yi besties 🤝 Friendship ended with the government 💔 Tax evasion is my pookie now 🥰

You are being hunt down by the police as well, causing you to move to Syndicate, living with K.K, Che, and Bai yi currently. Life was good, until Bai yi kept bringing more problems than solutions everyday, causing you to become one of the MOTHER 👩‍🦰 alongside with K.K, making sure the other two stay out of trouble because they're a magnet for chaos, apparently. K.K's words, not mine 🤷‍♀️ More on that when I think of part two! An: My exam in a major subject FLOPPED. 👎📉 /j, I'm overthinking so I cope with writing unserious shit to think less of it, and hopefully make the redemption in finalsssss HISSSS 🐍 RAH❗❗❗ 🦅 But anyways, to more UNSERIOUS, and UNHINGED shit to come!!! But also some serious ptn stuff (Like the nursing intern one)

#platonic path to nowhere x reader #path to nowhere #ptn #path to nowhere x reader #platonic ptn #ptn bai yi x reader #bai yi x reader #K.K x reader #Che x reader #Ptn x reader #platonic ptn scenarios #platonic ptn x reader #platonic path to nowhere

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xxlady-lunaxx · 15 days

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I love you; I don't pt.2 | {SaneGiyuu}

part 1

Theme: Fluff+Angst

Note: uhh cw death

a little uzusane friendship

ooh hi its been a while since i posted writing that wasn't a reblog ‼

×××

Previously:

Giyuu didn't look back, pressing a hand to his mouth to stop a sob that threatened to spill out. He should've expected this. There was no way in hell Sanemi would've stayed in love after years, it was a miracle he'd loved him in the first place. Of course.

×××

Sanemi visited after a couple days. He had sent no warning letter—because he couldn't write coherently yet—and simply arrived at Giyuu's door.

Giyuu had opened it and then proceeded to lead a couple minutes of a staring contest in which they both blinked several times before regaining his composure and letting him in.

"What're you doing here, Shinazugawa?" Giyuu asked. He shifted his hair to cover his cheeks which burned red with embarrassment. Their last encounter hadn't been quite so successful and he had a hunch that that was exactly why Sanemi was here.

"Are you alright, Tomioka? I'm sorry about last time," Sanemi said, though his gaze was tracing around Giyuu's house. It hit him then that he'd never actually been inside here before. He'd only known the address but never wondered about what Giyuu might look like doing idle things.

"Sorry?" Giyuu frowned. "I should be sorry. I ran away like a child, I'm sorry."

Sanemi shook his head. "That was... reasonable."

"Well, what you said was also."

"Right. I still shot you down, though," Sanemi said pointedly.

"Didn't I do that to you too?" Giyuu asked. It wasn't Sanemi's fault, it was his own.

Sanemi's lips quirked in a smile. "Then we can call ourselves even, no?"

"...fine."

A moment of silence.

Giyuu watched as Sanemi took in their surroundings.

"Do you want some tea?" he offered.

Sanemi nodded slowly. "Sure. Although something cooler would be nice. The weather's insanely hot."

Giyuu nodded back. "Okay." He walked down the hall, turning to the kitchen. "...cold tea?"

Sanemi followed him, rolling his eyes. "Whatever is fine."

"Alright." He supplied the two cups of 'cold tea,' dropping several ice cubes in them.

Sanemi took the cup he was offered, taking a sip. "So...?"

Giyuu tilted his head. "Hm?"

"Are you alright? You never answered my question," Sanemi said, leaning against the wall.

"Oh. I'm... fine." Giyuu considered the question again. "I'll be fine."

Sanemi let out a breath. "If you need anything, we can talk."

"I didn't know you were so considerate."

"...well I can be if I want to."

Giyuu cocked his head to the side. "You want to be, now?"

Sanemi shrugged. "Isn't it my fault you ran away crying?"

"That's mine."

"Yeah, well, I haven't seen you cry in my whole life."

Giyuu dipped his head down. "I used to be more... emotional? I don't know. I let down my guard, so it's my fault."

Sanemi put his cup down. "Let your guard down more, then. There's no demons fucking with us anymore, you don't have to be on constant watch."

"It's more like a habit now," Giyuu murmured.

"I know. So try letting go of it."

"I can try."

Sanemi smiled. His smile was gentle and so... unlike him. Giyuu's cheeks were brushed pink and he forced himself to look away.

"Good," Sanemi said. "Anyway, this tea doesn't go good cold. I'll be going now. See you later."

Giyuu nodded. "See you later."

×××

To his surprise—which, according to Sanemi, shouldn't have been a surprise—they became friends. Nothing else, as muh as Giyuu longed for it. But it was nice. Sanemi would come over sometimes, or vise versa, and they would talk. Like they were normal people on a normal day. And he loved seeing into Sanemi's character. It was a change, for the better. Sanemi was much more open with him—as Giyuu was as well—and it was interesting to see how different he was when he could be relaxed. He smiled genuinely a lot more, too. And, despite himself, Giyuu found that he couldn't let go of his love for Sanemi. He loved him; he did. He couldn't stop it. He didn't try to, anymore. Best let it fade out.

It didn't fade, however. Though it wasn't much of a burden. It just made him love spending time with Sanemi more. Receiving letters in broken Japanese asking him if he wanted to come over. It was like falling in love all over again. He didn't mind. It was a wonderful feeling, in other perspectives. It made him happy.

Time droned on.

Four years had passed since Muzan had died. Four years, already. He didn't know what to think about how much time had passed. He was unwilling to think about it.

It was his birthday tomorrow. He prepared.

×××

He wrote letters to the Uzui's. He wrote some to the Kamado's—and shorter ones to their friends, whom he didn't know well. He wrote one to the Butterfly mansion—Aoi. To Kiriya and the other two Ubuyashiki's. To the Rengoku's, Urokodaki. He had them all stacked up neatly, tied together and placed by a crow. Kanzaburou was far too old to be carrying anything now, so he had put a different crow to the task of delivering the letters.

Then there was one.

He had hesitated before sending Sanemi a letter. He didn't know what he would say. In the end, he simply invited him over. He was sure that none of the others knew of his birthday. In the previous years, he had simply said, vaguely, that his birthday was in February. They brought him gifts in the beginning of February. They had done it this year, as well. When they asked about the timeline, though, he brushed it off. He told them that his birthday was later in February, that they needn't worry. He would tell them. And he would. Only... after.

Sanemi arrived at his house late in the afternoon of his birthday. He didn't know that Giyuu would die today—he couldn't, right? He had with him a package. He placed it on the table in front of Giyuu, sitting down across from him.

"Happy birthday," Sanemi said, leaning onto the table. "Forgot to give you something when the others did."

Giyuu tilted his head, smiling slightly at him. "Thank you." He struggled to untie the cloth and Sanemi reached over to help him.

Inside, there was a photo album. It was pretty, looking homemade and adorned with cut-out photos of Giyuu. He opened it and found pictures slipped inside it. Pictures from the past four years. With everyone. He turned the pages, a bittersweet smile curving his lips as he gazed at the photographs. He paused at one, his eyes tracing the picture. It was of him and Sanemi, eating. At that time, Tengen had taken the picture. Claiming they looked like best friends and wondering what they would've said about this in the past.

He looked up at Sanemi whose eyes were averted, embarrassed.

"Thank you," he repeated. "I... love this."

Sanemi looked up, offering him a shy smile. "That's good. I was going to keep it blank but... you wouldn't have time to fill it. So I went to Uzui and took all the pictures he'd taken. Had them printed, et cetera."

Giyuu nodded. "I really appreciate it, Shinazugawa. I... Yeah. Thank you. Thanks."

"You keep saying that. But, uh, you're welcome," Sanemi said, dipping his head down.

Giyuu laughed softly. "I don't know what to say. It's great."

"Then hopefully you'll enjoy it till the end."

"I will."

×××

Night came. Giyuu urged Sanemi to stay, setting up another futon for him. There weren't any other rooms and it was February; too cold to sleep on the porch or elsewhere. So the extra futon was placed in Giyuu's room.

Time came for when they would sleep. Giyuu lay, staring up at the cealing. He hadn't told anyone but lately, he'd been losing a significant amount of weight and blood. And lately, as in, in the last week. He was thankful to not have gotten another spasm of coughing in front of Sanemi, but he knew it was only bound to come. And it did. Blood had come with it, dotting his clothing red.

Sanemi must've been awake for he was at Giyuu's side in an instant. It was dark, but the red was a large contrast to the white of Giyuu's clothing and he must've seen it. "Tomioka? What happened? Are you okay?"

Giyuu answered by doubling over, the metallic taste of blood going sour on his tongue. When he looked up, he realized Sanemi had scooped him up in his arms.

Sanemi's eyebrows were furrowed in concern and he frowned. He seemed to be thinking. Understanding.

Giyuu coughed against, moving his arm up to cover his mouth so he wouldn't get blood on Sanemi.

"Tomioka," Sanemi said suddenly, once Giyuu's coughing has stopped.

It was close to midnight. The two had stayed up quite late talking, only getting into the beds around 11 pm.

"Tomioka, when is your birthday?" Sanemi's voice was tight. His eyes were focused solely on Giyuu's. "When is your birthday?" he repeated.

Giyuu bit his lip, wincing. It hurt to breathe. "Today."

"Today as in... as in the eighth? Or today as in... the ninth. Tomorrow?"

"Eight...th. Eighth," Giyuu mumbled, he closed his eyes.

"...what. Tomioka—why the- Why the fuck did you not tell anyone?! What the hell is— Oh my god- I knew something was—" Sanemi was stumbling over his words, cutting himself off. "No. No, why today? I didn't- Does anyone else—?"

Giyuu shook his head slowly. "No one else knows. I think. I didn't want them too. I invited you over because..." He paused. His breathing was heavy. He was struggling to breathe in. His lungs hurt and strained as if he'd been running for hours. "Shinazugawa.... Shinazugawa, I still like you—I lo-"

He coughed, no longer trying to cover his mouth. Blood dripped from his lips, coating them a deeper red than they'd ever been.

"Tomioka, I'll take you to Aoi's," Sanemi mumbled, rocking back on his heels. He felt weak. Giyuu was light, however. Lighter than he should be. He started to stand.

"No. No—it won't work, you know it won't work, leave-" Giyuu sucked in a shaky breath. "Leave me here. Shinazugawa. Shinazugawa—I love you, okay? I don't care that you don't like me back but I needed you to know this before I died."

Sanemi shook his head. "No. No, you're not dying now. Maybe Aoi can figure something out. I'll figure something out. You're not dying in my fucking arms, Tomioka. I won't fucking let you." His voice became desperate.

Giyuu was vaguely skeptical. Why did Sanemi care so much? "Then put me down, Shinazugawa," he said quietly. It was taking all his strength to talk. He couldn't afford losing his last precious moments.

"No, I won't, I won't," Sanemi insisted, clutching him tighter.

Giyuu's eyes fluttered open. He caught Sanemi's panicking gaze. "I... appreciate you being my friend, Shinazugawa. Thank you for the last years, you truly made them... wonderful."

Sanemi blinked rapidly. "No, no, I- ...I liked being your friend too," he mumbled. He seemed to have given up.

Ah. That was it. Giyuu nodded slowly, a small smile forming on his lips despite the pain stabbing his lungs. "I'm glad... glad you did too. I enjoyed every moment with... with you. This included."

He figured, then, that Sanemi was acting like this in his form of friendship. Sanemi cared for him—though perhaps not romantically anymore. But he cared. He had liked being his friend. That was good. Giyuu was glad.

"Thank you," Giyuu repeated.

Sanemi was quiet, leaning his forehead down against the pale palor of Giyuu's. "You should've told me it was today," he whispered.

"I couldn't," Giyuu mumbled. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Sanemi said. "I-"

He hesitated. And that was all it took.

In the small moment he paused, Giyuu's breath shortened. He was barely breathing. And then he was not.

There was a moment in which Sanemi vaguely registered this. He didn't understand it for a moment. Only that the ragged breathing of the man in his arms had stopped filling the silent room. Then it hit him and he struggled to keep himself up, his arms tightening around Giyuu's still-warm body. The warmth would fade soon as Giyuu's blood stopped pumping through his body.

A silent sob ripped through Sanemi's throat and he realized he was crying. His shoulders shook and he bent his head down, tucking his chin against his chest. He hadn't gotten to say it.

He didn't know how long he sat like that, almost motionless, clutching onto Giyuu's body. But then there was a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up.

Tengen was there, frowning, kneeling by his side. "I'm here, Shinazugawa," he murmured.

Sanemi must've looked like a mess. Tears streaking down his cheeks, blood staining his clothing. Tengen said nothing of it, only sitting next to him and holding his hand. They sat together for what could've been minutes or hours. Then Tengen stood silently, looking around.

"We have to bury him," he said quietly. His voice cut through the silence of the room. He sounded tired.

Sanemi nodded slowly. He was hesitant to move away.

"I'll... go and get some of the others. Put him on his bed when you're ready, okay?" Tengen said, gazing at him one last time before leaving.

Sanemi's eyes went back to Giyuu's face. It was slack, but a ghost of a smile still lay upon his lips. He paused then slowly bent down. Sanemi's lips pressed gently against Giyuu's cold, plush, blood-stained ones. He moved, dropping Giyuu gently onto the futon. Then he stood, willing his legs to work as he moved to the door Tengen had left from, making his way out of the room and away from the man whom he had thought he would never love again.

×××

« Word count: 2265 »

right so this took weeks to actually get ideas on how to write it, so i delete my progress and try again and finish it in one afternoon?

i was struggling with how to word the last paragraph btw!! its supposed to imply that he fell back in love with Giyuu but the last sentence was icky 😃

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xsaiya · 6 months

Text

"everything's alright."

-tags: comforting! obanai x vitiligo! insecure! reader, angst fluff (mostly angst), hugs, re-assurance, suicidal thoughts (reader), mentions of sh, traumatizing flashback, reader has permanent scars on their face, platonic sanemi catches you trying to harm yourself, reader is known as the emotion hashira, daydreaming. (warning for triggers!)

-future work: uppermoon hc's + muzan (I PROMISE <3)

-plot: iguru had found you saying some bad shit abt yourself so he went to go talk with and comfort you. <3

-a/n: pls do not think bad abt yourself, or harm yourself. your perfect the way you are, there's no need to feel like shit abt yourself. <3 (pls do not steal my work as it is based on my own life)

-recommended song: cigarettes out the window - tv girl

life was hard, hard as fuck. you felt like everybody around your atmosphere hated you and wishes you'd just, well, die. thoughts ran through your head as you were balled up in a corner, grabbing fistful sizes of hair on the sides of your head, crying and sobbing, muttering bad shit abt yourself, like 'does he hate me? does he want me to die? should i even be alive right now?'. those thoughts ran through your head every single day and second, just no body noticed.

note being a hashira, that shit just adds another difficulty to your already fucked up life. your mind also had racing thoughts of your past, and what those bastards did.

(FLASHBACK STARTS NOW!)

huddled up in a corner while gripping the sides of your head, crying & trembling in fear as the tall, abusive figure stood right in front of you while kicking and hitting your already abused body. the man, also known as your dad, kept yelling things in your ears like 'your not my daughter! my daughter isn't a useless, annoying, ugly ass bitch!' as he continued to abuse you over and over again. and all you could do was tremble and cry in fear.

(FLASHBACK ENDS NOW!)

you just dug your head into your legs as you cried and cried, you had nobody, nobody at all, except for one person, the love of your life, obanai. he genuinely cared about you, checked to see if you were eating enough, drinking enough water, sleeping enough. all he did was worry & care abt you, which made you feel guilty, why did he care so much about you? aren't you supposed to be a worthless toy to throw around? not in his eyes.

but, from the corner of your eyes, you saw a blade, you just stared at it for continuous minutes and seconds before thoughts ran through your head. your heart told you 'don't do it, you'll regret it!' while your brain just said 'do it, fuck up your wrists, your worthless anyways.'

you reached out for the blade, grabbed it with a harsh grip, and pointed its sharp tip to your wrist while smiling and crying, still looking down. but before you could even think about doing such an act towards yourself, someone harshly grabbed your wrist, and threw the blade away from your intense grip.

"don't fucking do that shit." said sanemi, he was genuinely worried that you'd do such an act towards yourself if he didn't arrive in time.

"i-" you just stared at him, as if a staring contest occurred, but no, he was giving you that intense look of 'tell someone, talk to someone, get help.'

"you gotta get some help, yk what? i'm telling iguru, you need to get some help." those words replayed in your mind as if it were a track tape, you just sat on a couch near you, waiting for them to return, and they eventually did.

sanemi returned with a worried as fuck obanai. obanai rushed towards you, grabbed your wrist and inspected it thoroughly, asking questions, his anxiety boosted right through heaven's gates as he looked at you with a look of so much love & worry. this just made you cry, cried in appreciation & sadness, you actually for once felt like you could let it all loose around someone.

"hey, hey. it's alright, let it all out love," he hugged you so so tight

you sobbed and sobbed for hours and all he did was mutter sweet re-assurances in your ear as you berried your crying face into his welcoming shoulder.

"..everything's alright."

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sixamese-simblr · 2 months

Text

The Bearchelor: Episode 2

Previously on the Bearchelor...

Kevin: "Anyway Gunnar is just deeply physically repulsive to me."

And coming up...

Mitch: "Listen, my goal is to drink just enough to forget about today."

Two new contestants are entering the game today, all the way from Académie le Tour, bringing the total number of contestants back up to 7:

"I'm Mitch, I'm a student at Académie le Tour, and I just found out on the way here that the roommate I've been casually sharing a house, a bed and my taxes with is gay!"

"I'm Max, and I found out on the plane that chicken the food and chicken the animal are the same thing. I'm still a bit bummed about it but I'm not going to cry on camera."

Meanwhile, the remaining contestants are wondering who Kevin has just sent home.

Castor: "I know Francis's vibes are objectively rancid but he's hot in that that "my father will hear about this" way."

Aldric: "I'm going to be honest I don't think that's a way in which anyone has ever been hot."

Before today's main activity, Kevin is spending some time getting to know the two newest contestants better.

Mitch: "Yes I'm studying in SimFrance. Yes that makes me more cultured than you. Yes I only speak Simlish."

Max: "I love cooking! My specialty is my secret recipe for microwave noodles with dinosaur nuggets. Speaking of, where do they even get dinosaur nuggets if dinosaurs are all dead?"

Kevin: "..."

Today, the contestants have to prove they are able to woo the bachelor with a single flirt.

Mitch: "Hey lil mama lemme whisper in your..."

Kevin: "Yeah, I've seen enough."

Max: "I've always wondered whether that thing about counting shoulders really worked. So there's one, and there's another one. That makes two. Did I win?"

Jared: "I'm going to seduce Kevin by saying the hottest thing I can think of."

Jared, whispering: "I cancelled our plans for tonight, let's just stay in, do an edible and have cheesy pretzels."

Kevin: "I have no idea what that was but that was kinda hot."

Castor, in confessionals: "I hope that gently grabbing his hands while staring into his eyes was enough of a hint that yes I do like him in that way."

Gunnar: "I know you can't resist me. No need to be shy."

Aldric: "So uhh are you into nerdy physics-themed pickup lines because that's all I've got."

Almeric: "See, my varsity jacket looks so much better on the floor. Also it's just for show, I don't even like sports."

That evening, the guys spend some time hanging out in the mansion.

Mitch: "Listen, my goal is to drink just enough to forget about today."

Everyone gathers outside for the ceremony.

Kevin: "Castor. Jared. I've had a wonderful time with both of you today. I think I might be developing a bit of a crush!"

Kevin: "Aldric and Almeric. We've been having a good time. You're also both continuing on to the next round."

This leaves Gunnar, Max and Mitch.

Kevin: "Max. You're genuinely not the brightest, but you're a really nice guy, and I want to see what more there is to you."

Max: "Does that mean I win? I won! Gooo Llamas!"

Kevin: "Gunnar. I don't think you get it the message, but you're not exactly my type. Mitch. You're really hot, but I genuinely don't ever see us becoming friends. The person I've chosen to move on to the next round is..."

"Gunnar."

Mitch: "I... how? Why are you keeping that guy around? This isn't fair, I just got here!"

Mitch: "I honestly don't know what I could've done different. Yes I'm hurt to not be chosen, especially over someone like Gunnar."

#sims 2 bachelor challenge #sims 2 #ts2 #simblr #kevin beare #aldric davis #almeric davis #castor nova #gunnar roque #jared starchild #max flexor #mitch indie

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 3 months

Note

Sylvia lore. So much angst. I'm so sorry.

⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎☆⭐︎⭐︎⭐︎

Sylvia does not wear a prom dress. It's glorified lingerie if anything, a short little dress found in the back of her closet; a relic of simpler times. Her revenge dress, as Dally always called it.

A thin cardigan tossed around her shoulders, a single silver button clasped in the middle across her brassiere.

Too-tall-heels that hurt her feet, and a single little purse held in both hands.

She tries a smile and a pathetic little twirl. Bleached, burned curls fall against her shoulders when she slows, carefully reaching to her eyes but smudging her makeup anyway.

Tim thinks she looks like a filly. Can't keep still, eyes moving back and forth too much. He tries to calm her, through the haze of cigarette smoke curling between them.

“Don't you have a dance to be at?”

“I can't believe we used to fit on that bed.”

The mattress sags. Sylvia pries open her clutch, hastily pulling out a small flask. It's done in a few gulps, rim stained red, and shoved back into her momma’s white clutch before she speaks again.

“I graduated today.”

“I know, I watched. Had to leave after your turn though—, business.”

She nods. “I wouldn't wanna stay the whole time either. Kinda had to though, bein’ in the middle ‘n’ all.” She scoffs. “Sylvia Jackson.”

Curls crumple when she lays her head on his shoulder. Neither move for a while. It's a warm evening, June of 1966. Tim tries not to get ash on her dress and Sylvia tries not to cry.

“I wish you didn't drop out. We could've done it together—, graduatin’. Hell, you coulda been my prom date… don't think they’ll let me drag you ‘long this time.”

Tim exhales, a careful arm around her frail shoulders. His chest rumbles when he speaks; sounding gruffer than he meant to.

“Do you even wanna go to this dance, doll?”

“I wanna get out, Tim.”

Out of Tulsa. Hell, maybe out of the fucking state. He can't blame her— he can barely get a word of common sense in before she’s off on a tangent, tounge that used to cut boys like him to ribbons in their youth.

They're not kids anymore.

“We could leave tonight, while everyone’s busy with the party. Wouldn't even have to tell anyone—, well, we could leave a note for the kids ‘n’ one for Buck. Hell, we could just bring Curls ‘n’ Ang with us—,”

Something in his chest tightens when he lays a scarred hand on her knee. “I can't leave, Sylv. You know that.”

“I know that,” she chuckles through quick tears spilling over her bottom lashes. “I was just-, just thinkin’. I've been doin’ a lot of that these days.”

Thinking of what she’ll do now. She was never an A+ student, college or anything after was out of the question. Not to mention the financial aspect of it all.

Thinking of that gymnasium. The walls done up in streamers, fruit punch and class cupcakes to be enjoyed by all.

She thinks of the Prom Court. King and Queen was no contest; who a better candidate than some dead Soc and his mourning girlfriend?

Sylvia wishes bitterly in her mind for them to move on as she imagines Sherri Valance dressed to the nines, twirling delicately with that plastic crown held to her chest, a match if tiara placed atop her bombshell hairdo.

She thinks of the warm black earth in front of his headstone. It's his birthday carved there. It's his name staring back at her. It doesn't seem real; it never does. She still thinks there’d been some kind of mistake. Some other hood torn apart by bullets under harsh street lamps that brutal night in August.

Dally could always out run the pigs. Always.

Dally never left her for this long.

Never.

“I dunno what to do.”

“You're gonna go to your prom, Sylvia. ‘N’ you're gonna be the best lookin’ girl there.” He tucks hair behind her ear, wipes the pad of his thumb under her eye where mascara had begun to run. “You're gonna call me in the mornin’, alright? We’ll go for coffee. Like old times.”

”I’ll call you tomorrow,” she parrots shaikily. Tim nods, Sylvia smiles. “I should get goin’… I don’t wanna miss my prom.”

“Go get ‘em, cowgirl,” Tim calls. He can hear her heels click against the floor the whole way through the hall and down the stairs, all the way to the front door. It slams back into place as quickly as it was thrown open. He stands. Just enough to watch his oldest friend teeter down the sidewalk in her too-tall-heels.

Sylvia will miss her prom. She’ll empty her change into the hand of the bus driver, taking her ticket and watching Tulsa pass by. The sun dips below rooftops, and she’ll make her way into a seedy little bar on the other end of greaser territory. She’ll meet a boy there; her age, another relic from years ago. William— Billy, as he always preferred, Dawson.

He’ll buy her a drink, she’ll repay him with a dance or two. He’ll buy as many drinks as it takes to keep her happy, clinging to his arms as she slides out of her heels and against his chest. She’ll thank him for the fun, planting a quick, deep kiss against his lips.

When he invites her to his car, she’ll follow.

His hair is brown rather than white-blonde. His eyes, every other colour than that pale, lifeless, blue. But tonight, he smells of tobacco and night. Her nails dig into his leather jacket just right, and the way he holds her.

So tightly, so warm, so possessively.

In a way so sickeningly familiar, Sylvia can only push herself closer against his bare chest the next morning, her sorry excuse of a prom dress pushed well past her thighs.

Tim will understand, she tells herself as she settles into his grip. Tim always understands.

i knew where we were going, i knew, and you still had me sucked into the story and gasping when she met up with billy. that’s the sign of a wonderful storyteller-

#dillo’s replies #sophie i guess13 #can’t tell you how many times i read this #please expect something in return #i gotta get you something #you bestow greatness upon me #it’s only fitting that i give you something too #dunno what it’ll be #but it’ll be something

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sailorsenshishitposter · 4 months

Text

Trish x Reader

I still have a bunch of other dmc fanfics I haven't posted here like ones for Halloween and Christmas (featuring Nico using gunpowder in a ginger bread house contest and one where Dante is Santa in the parade while Vergil hurls sharpened candy canes at him) but it feels weird uploading them out of season so I'll only do it if anyone is actually interested.

Anyway here's Night of the Living Pizza

Tonight was just going to be you and Trish. She was always so busy and now she finally had a night off. You were fooling around and your stomach started to grumble. How unsexy. "I think I'm goìng to go get some pizza..." you said as you trailed off. You found some leftover pizza slices on Dantes counter and you noticed how cold they were but this was okay since you could just reheat them. You opened the microwave door and set the pizza inside. You went to set the timer but you noticed it was shut off."

Damn it!" you yelled as you slammed your hand on top of the machine. Trish came over and put her arms around you. "What's wrong?" she asked. You pointed at the microwave. "I can't get this stupid thing to work because Dante doesn't bother to pay his electricity bill!". Trish lifted your chin up and looked into your eyes. "Shouldn't be a problem for me. Let me try something". Trish waved her palm in the air while chanting "Bibbity bobbity fucking boo" and summoned electricity that gathered at the tip of her fingers. She then shot out a bolt and zapped the microwave.

There was a puff of smoke that soon disappeared to reveal a badly damaged machine that was charred beyond belief. "I think it's cooked now at least..." Trish said sheepishly. As you were starting to calm down you heard banging coming from inside the microwave. "Trish... what did you DO!?" you shouted and to your horror, the door flung open. "WHAT THE FUCK!?" you screamed. Suddenly the pizza was not only alive but aggressive. Just as Trish was about to shoot it, the pizza slung itself like a throwing star and sliced her head clean off. Since Trish was a demon though it would just grow back like a hydra. She groaned and said "talk about my neck, my back, my pussy and my crack! I'm going to kill that thing!".

As Trish began to chase the pizza, Dante had just arrived back home. He took one look at what was going on and went "WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?". You informed him of what was happening and soon he was caught up to speed. He stroked his chin hair and said "I think I know why this is happening. You guys know you're not supposed to feed pizza after midnight right?". You slapped your forehead and sighed. "That's from Gremlins Dante GOD DAMN IT!!!" Dante looked surprised and then said "Oh yeah, that name sounds familiar. I think I was drunk when I watched it. Anyway this is probably the work of a demon then." You stared at Dante in disbelief and said "You can't be serious can you?".

"I'm completely serious. And know I have to go stop Trish." You were even more confused now. "Shouldn't you be killing it Dante?". He turned to you and said "Maybe I can reason with it. No one should ever be forced to harm innocent pizza.". A single tear was shed. "Devils do cry I guess." you said and you knew better than to get between Dante and the love of his life (pizza). Just as Dante went to locate Trish a "THAT'S AMORE!" Could be heard within the building. Dante ran as fast a he could but it was too late. The pizza was now deasceasd. R.I.P. (rest in pepperoni).

Dante then cradled the slice and sobbed. "I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO FILL YOUR DARK SOUL WITH LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!" he cried out. You took some left over pizza boxes, scissors and glue and returned with a homemade coffin. "It's what he would have wanted." you say. You go outside and start digging. Soon the pizza is burried and you're all embraced in a group hug while Dante is drunk off his ass as he sings kumbaya. At this point Vergil returns home, assesses the situation and then turns to walk away.

#crack fic #Dmc #trish x reader #devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #Halloween special kind of I guess #dante sparda #trish dmc #dante #Haunted pizza #himbo dante #shitpost

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ackackh · 8 months

Text

Hello! @eugeneroehoe ! I’m your secret gift-giver! I had a really great time writing this, but can you tell I’m long-winded? Paring this down was a challenge!

I’ll post the story here below the cut and link to my AO3. I hope you like it!

Winter’s comin’ in hard. Only October and the season’s first long drift of snow has blown over their village swiftly these past three days. His Andy has been sleeping poorly—says the cold air makes his head hurt, but Eddie hardly sleeps anyway and he’s been watching Andy fight his way in and outta dreams for months. Years. Puts him back to bed with his mouth when Andy wakes up gasping or crying. Could almost appreciate the arrangement, if it didn’t mean Andy were so far away, somewhere in the Solomons without him.

Massachusetts and Maryland don’t seem all that far apart, but the winters up North ain’t like nothin’ Eddie’s ever seen. Eight years out and six years here, Eddie still don’t understand how Andy can smoke barefoot on their back porch like it ain’t 15 degrees in the sunshine, like Eddie ain’t shivering in a blanket by their wood stove.

This morning, Eddie regrets having to leave him before dawn. He dresses in his own trousers and Andy’s flannel shirt and jacket, his own boots and belt and Andy’s wool coat. When he gets to the Matthews’, they won’t be able to see it, the way he’s got Andy’s love dripping off him, but he’ll know. It’s what keeps him company on these odd jobs.

On the roof, Eddie yanks off one glove with his teeth, needs to get a better hold on this shingle and nail, but the sun has only been shining on his back for thirty minutes, so it shouldn’t surprise that his fingers freeze near-solid and clumsy. He near deserves it when his hammer comes down to shatter them.

“Skip?” Eddie calls into their home, nose nipped red, his dumb, injured fingers curled up into his sleeve, as he shucks out of Andy’s coat. He gives up on his bootlaces without much effort, instead stomps the packed snow from the tread and calls again when he receives no answer, “Andy?”

He finds him in the back of their home where the kitchen in sunk, a step down from the rest of the house, and bathed yellow in late morning light. Impossibly inviting with his cotton shirt and blue jeans and pale, bare feet. He’s turned away, his hip leant against the kitchen counter, head cocked to the side as he examines their refrigerator. Eddie knows just from the set of his shoulders that he’s scowling at it.

“As much as I admire that look in a CO, I doubt you could win a staring contest with a machine, Skip.” teases Eddie, stepping down into the kitchen. Always fuckin’ cold in here, three bare walls tryin’ to keep out the winter. Failing most days, too.

But Andy doesn’t move. Outside, the weather is picking up again, the window above the sink has frosted shut despite the sun’s better efforts to thaw it. Eddie’s frozen, busted fingers throb in sympathy.

“Hey,” Eddie comes to his back, tapping the counter next to Andy’s hip, and wrapping an arm around his waist as he startles some. Andy blinks, and Eddie catches the moment he realizes it’s him. When he sighs and smiles and leans back into his embrace, Eddie’s own darlin’. He squeezes him ‘round the middle, kisses his temple—that secret and favorite place of his, where Andy’s startin’ to gray—and looks over Andy’s shoulder to find what he’d been glarin’ at: the note Eddie left him this morning.

He sets another kiss below Andy’s ear—right where the wire oughtta be—and hums a realization into his neck. Gently twisting Andy to face him, Eddie signs and asks aloud, “Where are your ears?”

They’re new, and fucking expensive. Seven years and some months of living with one ear out of commission, Andy cried and told Eddie, I’d forgotten what your voice was like all around me.

Now, Andy shakes his head and tells him, “Took ‘em out, was bothering me. Everything makes so much noise now. Did you know this goddamn thing buzzes?” He jabs a thumb at the fridge. Andy never bothers to sign back, even after all the time spent learning.

“That what’s bothering you?” Eddie raises his brow. He curls his fingers around the shell of Andy’s ear, like he might soothe him.

“That—and then this.” He turns and snatches down the note. “I remember there was something today, you told me yesterday.”

“That’s right.”

“But I couldn’t remember what. And then this... Like it’s written in fucking Chinese. I can’t read the damn thing.”

Eddie assures him, “It ain’t important,” and takes the note from Andy’s fist, “Says I was at the Matthew’s.” Andy watches Eddie as he throws it away, asking, signing, “you remember me sayin’ that last night?”

“I do. Now, I do.”

Eddie dips in for a kiss, but Andy’s sour scowl is still there when he pulls away.

“Head’s like cotton today.” Andy says.

Andy’s winter is comin’ in hard. So, Eddie kisses him again and brews them coffee while Andy curls up by the window, cracked open so he can smoke inside. When Eddie passes him his drink, Andy snatches up his half-broken hand and flattens it against his palm. Worries at where his fingernails have gone purple.

“What did you do?”

Andy don’t believe him when he says it’s nothing. Gently, he curls his hand around Eddie’s battered fingers and brings them to his lips to kiss them right, and nothing can quell the falling and flying of Eddie’s heart, a fluttering bird. Andy is the best man Eddie knows; it’s a marvel sometimes, to be loved by him.

Eddie settles into his place behind Andy, curving around him like a river. Hums a song he’s heard somewhere, low and warm, and Andy keeps his place in Eddie’s arms until the quiet of the snow and the warmth of Eddie’s body have lulled him to sleep. Hands cradling Eddie’s precious fingers, even here he doesn’t let go.

#hbowardaily #gift exchange #fic #hbo war #andyeddie #the pacific

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maxbegone · 2 years

Text

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that already. What if something happened to you on a call or when someone wasn’t around?”

“Anything can happen to anyone at any time,” he counters, but TK isn’t having it. “I’m not special.”

“Maybe not, but you’re my dad! What happened to us? What happened to you trusting me?”

“I do trust you—”

“You clearly don’t!” TK snaps. “If you had just said something—”

“Saying it out loud made it feel more real!”

The room plummets into a cacophony of silence, a staring contest breaking out between them. TK’s determined not to break first.

He wins.

“It felt like the universe finally caught up with me for getting out that day when so many others didn't,” his dad explains solemnly as TK’s heart cracks further. “Something told me to do this alone, and I hate that I didn’t tell you. If I could go back,” he taps his chest, “I would.”

“Well, you can’t.”

His dad stares at him. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Not immediately, at least.”

“That’s one thing you’re right about.” He walks away without a second look, jaw set and unblinking. “Buttercup already ate.”

The door slams behind him as TK marches toward his car at a clip, peeling out of there at a speed that should have Nascar scouting him.

His first thought is to drive home; it makes sense, it’s safe there, but the idea of explaining this to anyone makes him want to explode. And he does as soon as he hits a red light, growling and yelling as loud as he possibly can as he smacks his hands on the steering wheel.

He winds up driving to the loft anyway out of habit, but books past just in case Carlos or any of their neighbors are outside and see him. It’s then that he remembers his phone is still off.

After an hour of mindless coasting, TK pulls into a convenience store parking lot and lets his head fall back against the headrest.

“If I could go back, I would.”

His left leg is bouncing uncontrollably, blunt nails catching on his jeans as he runs his hands over them. He wants to scream again, but if he does, he’ll likely alert someone walking past his car, so he finally turns his phone back on and gives Carlos a call.

“Hey, babe.”

“Hi.” It’s crazy how his boyfriend’s voice alone can bring him back down to earth. He runs a hand over his face.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…my dad and I got into a bit of a thing.”

“A thing?” He can hear Carlos set something down on his end. “Is everything okay?”

“Um. I don’t know. I mean, we’ll be fine but. I don’t know.”

When he looks in the rearview mirror, he realizes he’s crying. To be fair, TK looks completely haggard — his hair’s a mess from running his hands through it as he drove, his bottom lip is practically chewed raw. He drags his thumb over it, imagining Carlos doing just the same when he gets home, tsking softly as he worries about it.

TK wipes at his cheeks and says, “I’ll be home in a little bit. I just need to clear my head.”

“Okay,” Carlos replies softly. “You sure you don’t want me to meet you? We can go downtown tonight, maybe get some food someplace quiet? Maybe take a walk somewhere?”

God, TK loves him and the way he gets him to crack a smile. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be home soon.”

“I’ll be here. Hey, maybe I’ll pull some blankets out on the couch, we’ll watch a movie or something?”

“That sounds great, baby, thank you.”

“Drive safe.”

“I will,” TK breathes. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

He tosses his phone onto the passenger’s seat, folds his arms over the wheel and rests his forehead against them. This is something he should think about, something he should rationalize and weigh out the pros and cons of. Fuck, he should physically write out a list, but this news is…it’s rocking him.

At the end of the day, TK has a choice that no one else really has — he can fix this. Or change something, at least.

And that’s exactly what he has to do.

#wip wednesday #about time au #tarlos au #tk strand #owen strand #carlos reyes #tarlos fic #911 ls fic

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aliahm · 2 years

Text

Summary: Jessica helps you get through an overwhelming few weeks by going with you to Manhattan Bridge. (Fluff)

Warnings: Mentions of exhaustion, sadness, being overwhelmed, crying, heights (Manhattan Bridge).

If I left out any content warnings or made any mistakes writing for a gender neutral reader, please let me know, so I can correct them.

(The moodboard was made by me, using images found on Tumblr and Google. I found the divider here on Tumblr as well. Full credit goes to the owners of these images).

Things just seemed to keep going wrong for weeks. Your work, your sleep, your mind, your body, it all seemed to be working against you. You were exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally, and now you were standing at the kitchen counter in Jessica’s apartment, staring at the cabinets in front of you, yet barely seeing them. All you were really aware of was the fact that there were tears in your eyes and, for some reason, you couldn’t, you wouldn’t, let them leave your eyes.

“Hey”

You jumped, startled out of your jumble of thoughts by Jessica, who was now standing behind you, still wearing her leather jacket and scarf that she had left the apartment in earlier that day.

“Hey, how’s the case going?” You asked, attempting to keep your voice even and mentally swearing when you realized that you couldn’t. “Slow” she replied, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” you said, knowing she was completely unconvinced.

“You’re having a staring contest with the counter. What’s going on?”

She had moved to stand next to you and she dipped her head a bit to meet your eyes. You looked up from the counter and when she noticed the tears in your eyes, she frowned. Her eyes narrowed slightly as concern took over her features. “Are you hurt?” she asked, immediately looking you over for injuries.

You could feel how protective she became in that moment. She wanted to help you and make sure you were okay, but you didn’t feel okay at all. Having her attention on you somehow intensified everything you were feeling. The tears finally dripped down your face and you could’ve sworn you couldn’t breathe.

You tried to answer her question anyway: “I’m not hurt. It’s- I don’t know Jess. It’s not a big deal.”

“You’re crying.” she replied, “You don’t have to talk about whatever it is, but I know there’s something.”

“There’s more than one thing, I mean, these past few weeks have just been- I’m sorry- I-“.

At that point, the rest of your words got buried under sobs. Your shoulders shook and your face burned from tears and frustration.

Jessica wrapped her arms around you without hesitation and you leaned against her, wrapping your arms around her waist. She didn’t ask you to say anything, she just held you and let you cry.

“I’ve got you, alright? I’ve got you”. She mumbled, rubbing her hand up and down your back. When you stopped crying, you took deep breaths to try and calm yourself down. Jessica didn’t pull away until you were ready and when she did, she said, “You don’t have to apologize babe.”

You smiled sadly at her, tired and a bit embarrassed, but she smiled back at you encouragingly. You looked at her for a moment and out of nowhere, a quiet laugh slipped out of your lips. She had this way of helping you feel safe just by being around you.

“You wanna stay here for the rest of the day?” she asked softly, waiting patiently for you to answer.

“I thought I did, but now I’m not sure.”

Jess thought for a moment, then she said, “If you want, we can go somewhere I think you’ll like, especially the view”.

You remembered then that she would always notice you admiring the city whenever you went anywhere together. Your smile grew as you realized you already had an idea of where she was talking about.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go”.

You made your way through New York with Jessica’s hand in yours and you soon knew that you were right about the place the two of you were going. As you stood on Manhattan Bridge together, you turned to Jess and asked, “Have you been to the top? I mean, the very top?”

She grinned and said, “Yeah, but trust me, this is high enough.”

You just laughed in response.

The clouds seemed to be melting into the pale, greyish-blue of the sky, and something about the way the buildings seemed to go on and on helped you feel at peace. It was gorgeous.

Looking at the city from the bridge felt like a reminder: You were alive, you were in the world, and you would be okay. Sometimes you didn’t feel that way, and you knew there would be times in the future that you would once again feel the way you’d felt in the kitchen, but it wouldn’t last. Once you were honest about your feelings and you gave yourself time, you would be able to look at New York with the woman you love, and you would be okay.

You felt Jessica wrap her arms around you and rest her chin on your shoulder as she stood behind you. That, the view and the fact that there was nobody else standing on the bridge at that time, made you feel like you were in a corner of the world that was meant just for you.

“I never wanna be anywhere else.” you said, leaning against Jessica and trying to make sure you saw every detail of the city.

“Well, it would probably make more sense to stay somewhere that has food, but it’s fine here too”. Jess said. You could feel a smirk on her face as she pressed a kiss to the side of your neck.

You rolled your eyes and grinned, turning your head to face her as your lips met.

“I love it here.” you said, hearing a smile in your voice as you spoke.

“I thought you might.” she replied, grateful that you let her help you through a difficult moment. She reminded herself then that she would always try her best to help you whenever you let her, because she loved you, and you loved her, and you would protect each other however you could.

#jessica jones x reader #jessica jones fic #jessica jones fanfiction #jessica jones x gender neutral reader

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brick-a-doodle-do · 1 year

Note

Here's my first dip into chaos bc there is no surrender...it looks longer than it is so speeeeeed read it...you'll want to bc there's g!Quickvine

".....being in the middle of a fight against each other, Voidshire is leading Quickvine on as usual and generally having a lot of fun while poor Quickvine is thinking he's fighting for his life. But..."

A. Suddenly Voidshire disappears with a yelp, nowhere to be seen. Quickvine runs to where he last saw Voidshire, listening for the shadows and confused as to why he hadn't seen or heard the magic being used. Only for his sensitive ears to pick up the sound of a small rapid heartbeat. When he turns towards it, he finds he has almost trampled right over a now finger sized villain. He's stuck in a staring contest with the clearly frightened, now tiny man, only for it to be broken by the shouting of other heros. The volume makes them bother flinch and without thinking it through, Quickvine grabs the tiny villain, hiding him out of sight. A huge part of him was screaming that if he didn't, something horrible would happen to the guy. Of course, Voidshire is struggling in his grip and protesting, but he smothers the insult shouting with his other hand as he calls out to the other heroes before hurrying off. He looks at the villain in his hands once he's out of sight, but is at a loss. What is he supposed to do about this?

B. Quickvine disappears, making Voidshire pause in confusion. After a long moment of silence with the background screaming of civilians and police sirens, he steps forward. With sharp eyes he scans the entire area closely, only to see a flash of green zip by where Quickvine had just been. Fully aware his steps were still soundless, he went closer, finding a rather miniscule Quickvine quivering as he cowered behind some rubble muttering to himself. He stared for a long time before an amused smirk found its way onto his lips. Without warning the now tiny hero, he crouches and his hand dashes out, successfully snagging the small cat. In an instant Quickvine was screaming bloody murder and struggling in a panic, his tiny tail lashing as he scrambled against the tough skin. The screaming made him flinch and feel a momentary pang of guilt, but in the end he simply sighed and stood up, the two actions immediately silencing the hero. His arms were over his head and...Voidshire was pretty sure the guy was crying, of all things. He hummed lightly and glanced up when the other heroes began to arrive shouting at him. He felt a pang of possessiveness and dodged an attack deftly, keeping Quickvine safe as he did. Not wasting another second, he went into his shadows to leave the area, bringing the apparently shrunken hero with him. He felt like it was far too dangerous to leave his favorite person out there with those rude heroes. He'd get hurt...but right now he was terrified of the villain. It was hard to decide which was a better choice. Now...what to do with him?

—

B R I C K

Wanna tell me how these two choices end? 👀

Tell me all about your favorite one.....

man im so tempted to just reply with . but i know that'd be so bad so i'll refrain

anyway how much money did you put on g!quickvine being my favorite? it DEFINITELY IS.

and hMMM idk how you should continue that one,, honestly if i was in that situation i would put irza somewhere he can't get out (for the time being) and try to talk to him. idk. maybe vara tries to find the reason irza shrunk?

and for g!voidshire hgghhhhh i can see some kind of him going back to his apartment to try and get vara to fix it cause. social interaction and also he doesn't wanna deal with it at all

IDK this is hard sobbbb sob

i love how both of them just like pop down randomly. love it. it's a good g/t trope. and in a,,,, vara grabbing irza and just running away i LOVE THEM. vara can be so like. clingy and protective i love i love i love <33

#brickquiries #3d brickling #3d my beloved 🤗#brick talks vaza #in return you BETTER contribute to the ask game. /lh/nf

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feather-rose · 1 year

Text

Move in, with me? Part 2..

...

Hinata(Comes into the room where Neji and Tenten were still looking over the newspapers with frustration at the table where the two of them sat at.): More tea, brother?

Neji(Declines the offer by his hand when his eyes kept looking down at the newspapers.He looked like he was ready to explode, here.): No more, please. Lady Hinata, or else, I’m gonna lose it, in any minute..

Hinata( A bit worried as she slowly put down the teapot onto the table and sat down with them..): Neji--

Neji(Groans louder as he was about to grab his locks of hair, here with anger): ARGH! Why is everything is so expensive? I don’t get it! Why is it so damn hard to find an appartement?

Tenten( Sighs with defeat.): Don’t even ask. Mine is far too small and yet it still costs my own ass...

Neji: Not after the war. Before that, it looked less scary, but now. It’s almost impossible for a person to live alone--

Tenten(Offended as she yelped back, as she almost slammed the table, louder.): Hey!

Neji( Looks up at her, with a defeated look, here. Up at her annoying stare.): Sorry..

Hinata( Quiet as she was here, with her voice with concern.): Ever asked for a loan, Neji?

Neji(Shook his head, saying no.): No. And I’m not that kind of person, here. And I’ve saved enough if I planned to move away, which it wasn’t, at first. But now, it’s different.

Tenten(Agrees with him.): Some place cozy and simple for both of us. Heat, air conditioner and enough space for my weapon collection.

Both her boyfriend and cousin had looked up at her, strangely but with fear...

Neji(Gulps): Weapon collection? Just how many weapons do you have?

Tenten(Annoyed at this point from her boyfriend.): Enough to kill a stalker or an enemy. Or maybe Lee, when he almost walked onto Neji and I doing--

Neji(Blushes with embarrassment.): Tenten, I don’t need a picture, here..(He pointed Hinata who looked like she was about to faint, here. No sex talk, here.)

Tenten(Ignored the problem, here): Anyways. Our own cozy little place. And did I even mentionned that I have an flat screen?(Grins back at theirs stunned faces)

Neji: Huh? Did I’ve missed something? Or what? A flat screen?

Hinata(Almost drooled over.): A flat screen TV? How I wished I had that..

Tenten(Grins over the idea of her success, here. Even if it been for only a good luck thingy.): Yeah, I know. It been a present or more the kinda thing I’ve won over a drinking contest!

Neji(Annoyed.): Tenten..

Tenten(Laughs back up.): It both left Shikamaru and Chouji naked, stripped off of their paid checks!

Hinata( Shocked): Tenten..

Neji(His eye twitched a bit as he released a amusement smirk.): You know, you like being dirty, right?

Tenten(Scoffs, not feeling ashamed.): Yeah, I know.( Changing the subject as she waved her hand. As she whirled around to look over Hinata.) So, how’s everyone’s taking with Neji leaving?

Hinata(Trying to get over the shock, here.):Just okay. Hanabi is on a mission, at the moment. But she wishes ni-san all the best.

Tenten(Sighs deeply with relief.): That’s good, to hear. At least some people are still okay in this campound.

Neji(Annoyed, here. And no thanks to his girl.): Whatever.(Looks up at his cousin.) But? How about Uncle? Hiashi-sama?

Hinata( She wriggled up a lock of her long blunette hair, with nervosity, here.): Well, it is an different matter, you see.

Neji(Warning tone.): Hinata..

Hinata(Finally admited back as if she had no other choice.): Let’s just say that Naruto-kun and I, been trying to bring him out from his depression..

Tenten(Cringed over at this reply.Much like her boyfriend looked here.): Depression?

Neji: What?

Hinata(Shrugged off her shoulders as she decided to take back the teapot and poured tea over into the couple’s cups, as if it would make her feel better.): Yeah. He’s been crying like an never ending waterfall for amost a week, after niisan had told us, he’d be moving out.( Steps back her move as she looks back at Neji, trying to look innocent, here.) He never quite leaves his chambers, unless, it is for to pee.

Neji(Sweatdropped here.): No comment to that..

Tenten(Much like she looked like her boyfriend, here.): No swearing over that, either.

Hinata(Smiles shyly, over them.): More tea, everyone?

........

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bellsyafterdark · 2 years

Note

I don't remember hearing about a pyramid head Paz au, would you like to talk about that one a bit? I only really know the basics about silent hill but I am 👀 about that concept anyway

You're on Twitter? Who are you? Drop me your name so I can find you 👀

I am so stupidly thirsty for contemporary renditions of pyramid head-- not the stickly original, but the dead by daylight murder muscle with a helmet version just--

Behold 🤤

He's the physical manifestation of a specific character's desire for punishment over his guilt for something terrible he did, I won't spoil for those who want to play the game though it's been out for decades.

My interpretation was much simpler (maybe to his discredit). A canonical divergence from the end of Mando s2 and before tbobf was released, I started this for a friend who shared both my Pyramid Head and Paz appreciation, but then I did the typical thing of overstuffing it with potential plot and got stuck. I mean... theoretically I could post this as-is but I didn't even get up to the post-battle (potentially public battle?) horny, which was the whole point.

You can read the set-up under the cut.

///

“You said you were going to look for your people.”

Mando shifts uncomfortably. “I said… I might.”

“What if I told you we found one… but there’s a fee to pay?"

cw for religious desecration and distress

///

The pit is busier than usual, by Fett’s measure.

The crowd writhes and bays for satisfaction. Under the setting suns of Tatooine, this evening’s contesters are a Trandoshan and Falleen pair. Vast and towering, their rippling muscles sweat and strain under the rose-gold of dusk. Armour broken, jaws twisted and snarling, they exchange a frustrated glare. Vibro-bladed axe and double swords are hoisted in slippery grips.

With a roar, they charge Tatooine’s champion again. The crowd echoes the ravenous cry.

“Ugh….” Fennec groans, exasperated.

From his high seat of privilege above the surging mass, Fett smiles at Fennec’s bored eyeroll. In his periphery, her gloved fingers glide restlessly on the barrel of her rifle. Fett represses a sympathetic shiver and throws his attention out to the same spectacle they’ve endured for the last week.

He understands why she sighs. It’s a good night for sporting but, from what he’s witnessed, he doesn’t expect a new victor from the contest. Every challenger has brought more showmanship than strategy. It sells.

Every crawler and their mutt in Mos Eisley has apparently spilled into the pit for the evening’s entertainment. By the dress and number in the stone seats that ring the pit of the old palace’s mountainside, the festivities are attracting a larger off-world crowd every night.

And why not? This far out on the Rim, how many places could offer order, bloodsport and a fair bet? How many like Boba Fett could assure it?

Fett’s sentries patrol the highest points of vantage encircling the pit, insinuated in every rung of the mountainside and, at their head by Fett’s side, their captain strokes her rifle, coal dark eyes narrowed at the crowds.

The hint of a storm lingers with the faintest kiss of an electric charge in the air. If Fett squinted hard enough, he would find the ridge of stormclouds on the horizon. Time enough for a few rounds more.

The blended scent of pressed flowers and leather catches his breath, and suddenly Fennec is on her feet. He almost leans away on his throne’s arm, only saving himself by a lifetime of learning to be deathly still and patient. Somehow, Fennec circumvents all those instincts. He looks up and up at the imperious stature of his captain, body tensed on alert, elegant chin angled away.

The butt of her rifle tucks against her shoulder, aimed low. She looks down at Fett and he stares back.

“He’s here.”

A ravenous scream of victory surges through the crowd. The Trandoshan and Falleen slump to the dusty ground, unconscious. The vibro-axe shimmers by the Trandoshan’s twitching hand. Over their unmoving bodies, the huge figure of the champion staggers, unsteady.

They advance one heavy-booted step.

“Hold!” The pitmaster barks and, immediately, every sentry’s rifle is pointed at those broad, hunched shoulders.

Fingers curling round the stone arm of his throne, Fett’s eyes narrow at the spectacle. He forbids loss of life in the pit. Some people need reminding. And others, he suspects, are not in their right mind to observe the rules at all.

“Hold, you big oaf!” The pitmaster shouts as the champion closes the distance to the defeated challengers, another lumbering step.

The crowd’s excitement rises, thrumming in encouragement. They miss the blood of Jabba’s rule. It’s too bad. With a glance from Fett, the sentry by his throne kicks the waiting disruptor cannon online with a whirr and points it down into the pit.

“Boba,” Fennec says.

The cloaked figure at her side has made a considerable effort to soak in every shadow, wrapped in the manner of Fett’s own days of wandering the sands. But the setting sun strikes those few slivers where black robes didn’t cover the brilliance of flawless beskar armour, and Boba Fett has made a career of spotting his quarry undercover.

Fett stands, offering his arm. “Mand’alor.”

The other Mandalorian flinches at the title, black visor glancing at the offered hand like it may strike him. “Don’t call me that.”

Fett smirks beneath his buy’ce. “You earned the saber. You won the mantle.”

It makes him all tingly inside thinking of that proud little princess and her hound losing a coveted relic to a man too humble to care for it. Kryze belongs to an age of Mandalore long gone, whether she accepts it or not.

Mando reluctantly takes his arm, clasping firmly in greeting. He sighs. “What am I doing here, Fett?”

“Champion, hold!”

One of the sentries opens fire and stone chips fly at the booted feet of the last one standing in the pit. Fett glances to another high balcony where a squat Chagrian shoots to his feet, four horns bouncing, furious red eyes finding him across the chasm. A private frequency crackles to life in his buy’ce.

“Fett! You so much as singe my champion and you’ll pay for the damages!”

“You’re in my games, Sir Lori,” Fett growls and closes the channel. He glances to the sentry manning the disruptor, a wiry youth with the best aim among them; their shoulders tense, ready.

Mando cocks a hip, gesturing to the hungry crowd with weary bemusement. “Not my kind of sport. You have a bounty for me?”

They haven’t seen the man since the pursuit of that Imp who took the child; since Fett rounded back to pick up Fennec and learned, after all that effort, Mando gave the child away-- to a Jedi, of all things. No accounting for good judgment. There aren’t many Mandalorians left in the galaxy and even fewer people of true honour worth mention.

Maybe Boba is sentimental sometimes.

“Actually, we have one for you,” Fennec says. “You said you were going to look for your people.”

Mando shifts uncomfortably. “I said… I might.”

“What if I told you we found one… but there’s a fee to pay?" Fett asks.

Mando’s visor turns on him with a stone-cold threat of imminent violence, it’s almost nostalgic.

Fett raises a hand in placation. “Not to me.” He turns and nods to the angry merchant still fuming in his pompous seat across the pit. “Him.”

Mando joins his side, gazing out across the crowd, to the merchant and, finally, down into the pit itself. He considers the hulking figure who looks on the verge of falling to their knees. “That one?”

“He’s won nine nights in a row,” Fennec says from Mando’s other shoulder.

“So what?”

“Nobody does that,” she says.

“I’m flattered you think only Mandalorians could,” Mando sounds unconvinced. “He looks half-dead.”

“The merchant pumps him full of juice every night, keeps sending him back for the winnings,” Fennec says. “People bet high stakes. No one can beat him. But everyone has a breaking point.”

Fett smacks Mando’s chest with the back of a gloved hand. Mando looks at him. Curling his hand into a claw, Fett mimics raking fingers down his pauldron. He points to the champion in the ring. Mando stares. He looks back at Fett. Fett sees the moment he understands, straightening tall and alert.

“Are you sure?”

“Plain as the armour they stripped him of.”

Mando’s tone drips with venom. “You saw them take his armour?”

“I saw what was left of what they didn't sell. They let him keep his buy'ce. Or something like it.” They all glance at the angular helmet donning the champion’s head like a macabre spike of metal; hints of blue among the rust.

“That’s not his buy’ce,” Mando says, voice rough.

"There’s good reward for beskar these days. Mandalorians themselves... also fetch a good price,” Fett says. “In my games, if they pay, they can play."

"He's sponsored the last eight challengers to win him back since he realised he was one of you," Fennec interrupts, treating Fett with one of her droll, fond looks that made warm embarrassment crawl up his neck. "The famed Boba Fett could find a Tusken in a sandstorm but not a worthy challenger. Want to give it a shot?"

Mando studies the champion as he sways, finally dropping to one knee, large hands clutched to the sides of that monstrous buy'ce, as though in pain. Mando's hands clench by his thighs.

"Nine rounds, huh?" He asks quietly.

"They're not allowed to kill each other, but he'll die of exhaustion before the merchant lets him stop," Fennec says. "Unless you get him out first."

Mando looks between them accusingly. "They're your games. Pull him out."

"There are rules. I made them. If I break them… well. I won’t." Fett leans into his shoulder, voice low and conspiratorial. "If someone else won, against the size of the current pot? That man could demand any prize he wanted.”

Mando stares down into the pit. “And if I lose?”

“You won’t lose,” Fennec doesn’t hesitate.

///

Once upon a time, Mando’ade were the galaxy’s fiercest warriors. The stories say their likeness inspired fear and awe. They were revered; respected. And now Din goes to release one from the bonds of bloodsport, like cattle.

How did it come to this?

“A ne-ee-ew challenger!”

Stone scrapes like the growl of a beast as the barrier rolls away. Emerging onto the pit, Din winces with the adjustment of his visor to the piercing rays of the sun setting behind the mountains. He’ll need to avoid that vantage. The roar of the crowd is… intimidating, now encircling him and sweeping up the mountain's height in their number. All those credits, all those eyes, all that manic fervour funnelled toward him.

Him and his opponent.

The reigning champion is back on his feet, towering opposite the chamber where Din emerged. Hunched with his immense shoulders wrapped in rays of twilight, his skin gleams with the sweat of strain and exhaustion. He does not react to Din's appearance.

Din shakes his head in pity and disgust for how the merchant and these games have reduced him: stripped to little more than a flimsy sack draped from torso to heels, fastened with rope. No defensive value. It is stained with more than Din cares to imagine, and he can imagine quite a lot. Had they even let him wash? The indignity.

His poor treatment doesn’t appear to have diminished his stature. He stands just as tall and broad with generous muscle as when he last brandished a knife at Din’s throat.

He can see it now: the signet Boba indicated scarred into the man’s deltoid. A passer-by could dismiss it as no more than three angry slashes, but the ones who wore that saved Din from certain death as a child and he will never forget it, however he may try.

Din finally looks to the giant vibro-cleaver embedded in the ground before him. At rest, it looks like it may have been fashioned from the tooth of a creature whose scale is horrific to consider. A brief image of the krayt dragon flashes through Din’s mind. The blade is jagged and as wide as the man’s thigh, but as tall as his waist. That is a weapon built to saw and separate; when the vibrations come alive it will do its job well and its scale is absurd-- better suited to giants twice their size.

But then, Paz Vizsla always punched above his weight. Commander. Heavy infantryman. Guardian. Now, slave.

Sighing, Din shakes his head, heart tugging at the unfairness of it all.

How did they get you?

Not the reunion he had hoped for, but he'd hardly dared hope for one with any of his people. The thought of confronting them after everything that happened, all he had learned and lost. Would they still take him back? Did he want to go back?

The answer to that changed from day to day.

"Are you still in there?" He calls across the pit.

Paz's huge chest rises and falls with his deep breaths. That vicious helmet is too large to be pragmatic, like the sword, it is designed to intimidate. Din's stomach drops with pity. For that one to go on, the former had to come off; and if it came off….

Somewhere in the crowd, the pitmaster counts them down.

"We're leaving here together," Din shouts across the pit.

I'm not leaving you behind again.

Din lowers his hood and an excited murmur ripples through the spectators.

“What is this? A Mandalorian?” The pitmaster crows, exhilarated. “At last, do we have a worthy opponent? Or will he meet the same fate as the rest? Get ready to line your purses and count it down in five--!”

A klaxon sounds and the crowd screams, counting down. The signal startles Paz into action. Straightening with alarming calm, his meaty hand closes over the cleaver’s handle and yanks it from the ground with a clean shank of sound. Din stares at the power in that movement, conservatively intimidated.

“-- Three--!”

What did they do to you?

Din glares up at the merchant’s balcony and finds the Chagrian glancing between them, face pinched, calculating. He did this. Scowling, Din whips the beskar spear off his back and levels its point at the merchant, tasting dark satisfaction when that blue skin blanches.

You’re next.

“One!”

#pyramid head paz #idk should paz really mount din in front of a live audience?#would din be into this?#would they leave it for the post battle?#thots 🤔🤔🤔#do i even need to make this horny?

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ecruteak-city · 2 years

Text

Rating: T Summary:

Evelyn's sisters go their separate ways, leaving her to attempt her Pokemon journey alone, in a foreign region, while still tormented by the "glitches" that their parents had been studying before their death. / Her cousin Kris intends to help in whatever way they can. They have deeper connections to the glitches in reality than Evelyn realizes. Word Count: 3669 Chapter: 1/?

Notes: The Battle Tower Leader Kris headcanon was created (as far as I'm aware) by @stoutlandd! Thank you for having such a cool idea!!

XXX

Kris’s brow furrowed as their cousin shuffled down the Olivine pier. Like a Shuckle using Withdraw, Evelyn was trying to disappear into her oversized hoodie.

Kris didn’t know what they’d expected. Excitement? Interest? They’d never gotten to go to any region farther than Kanto. It was hard to imagine traveling so far just to stare down at the boards on the dock.

Maybe… maybe Kris was wrong. Had another teenage girl with blue hair stepped off of the ship already? They thought they’d been paying pretty good attention. There were no more passengers getting off.

The girl got closer, and Kris picked out the Lilycove Contest Hall logo on her hoodie. Then she probably was Evelyn. Mom said that Aunt Laz—another relative Kris had never met—had settled down in Hoenn with her husband and four kids. Kris wasn’t sure how that had translated to her and Uncle Ambroise getting caught up in the Cinnabar eruption eight years ago, or why none of Kris’s cousins had reached out to them at the time.

Kris wasn’t sure of anything about mom’s side of the family. It would’ve been nice to have a little more preparation for meeting this wisp of a kid. Kris hadn’t been that small when they’d swept the gym challenge, had they?

They shook their head, ruffling the back of their cropped hair. They’d been cocky, trying to take up more space, cut their way out of being a tiny kid from a tiny town. That attitude had probably made more of a difference than their actual size.

A wheel of Evelyn’s suitcase caught on one of the boardwalk’s planks. Right. Kris should probably be helping with that, rather than staring.

“Hey, kid!” they called, jogging up to her. “Evelyn!”

She let out a soft eep and tugged at her suitcase harder.

“Woah, hey. It’s just me. Kris, your cousin?” They gently took control of the handle, lifting it out of the knot in the wood. “Guess you probably haven’t seen me before, either, huh… anyway, Mom told you I’d be picking you up, right?”

“Uh-um, yes… but I tried to call you and you never picked up, s-so I was right scared I was going to be all alone in a big city without my sisters and.” She took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. I sh-should’ve t-trusted that you’d be here…”

Kris smacked their forehead.

“Sorry. My PokéGear got busted earlier today. Forgot to tell Mom it’s at the repair shop, since, uh, can’t call when your PokéGear’s broke.” They grinned sheepishly, hoping that admitting they made mistakes would make Evelyn feel less intimidated. Or should they have tried to appear more put-together, so she’d be reassured?

Ugh. Kris didn’t know anything about kids, except that they cried the most when they got their butts kicked. Granted, Kris had seen adults way older than themself cry after Suicune washed their Battle Tower streaks down the drain.

“O-oh. W-well, thank you for… um, coming to get me…”

Evelyn’s voice had a strange accent. Wasn’t she from Hoenn? Kris had only heard that accent from the rare Galarian visitor to the Battle Tower.

“No problem. I practically live here in Olivine, anyway.” Kris strode forward, guiding Evelyn off of the busy boardwalk. The suitcase rumbled loudly over each board on the dock. “I’m the brains and the brawn of the Battle Tower. They’d be hopeless without me.”

Someone punched them in the arm. For half a second they thought it was Evelyn, before they caught sight of one of the Tower trainers passing by in the crowd.

“Careful there, Kris! You keep castin’ out lines like that, and you’re bound to reel in some humble pie!” the fisherman called, walking backwards with his pole slung over his shoulder.

“I’ll eat it as soon as you catch it for me, Hughes!” Kris called back, and was rewarded with one of his hearty laughs.

They hoped he caught something actually tasty today. With a good catch, Firebreather Wong could cook up some mean Kingler legs for their weekly potluck—

The weekly potluck. Crap. That was tonight.

Kris snuck a glance at Evelyn, who was still following silently, just a pace behind. Normally Kris would say the Tower potluck was the best welcome Johto had to offer. But if Evelyn was already cringing at the noises of the pier, how would she handle a hall full of loud trainers and rich food?

“S-sorry,” Evelyn said quietly when she caught Kris staring. She skipped a few steps, almost landing on Kris’s heels.

“What are you apologizing for?” Kris forced themself to walk slower. They weren’t trying to leave the kid behind.

“Uh-um… I don’t know, just… n-nevermind.” She folded her hands inside the oversized pocket of her hoodie. There was no way that thing was her size. It looked like it would better fit a grown man—

Oh. Dead parents. Kris didn’t know how she kept forgetting that. Maybe because she barely felt like Aunt Laz and Uncle Ambroise had existed in the first place. She hadn’t even known the names of her cousins until Evelyn had looked up Mom’s number and…

Kris wasn’t sure how that conversation had gone. They didn’t know why Evelyn had picked them to stay with, when she apparently had three other sisters.

Not that Kris minded—they’d actually been excited to meet a cousin for the first time. They just hoped they could live up to whatever idea Evelyn had of them.

Luckily, the awkward walk was a short one. The Battle Tower was right down the beach.

“Oh,” Evelyn said as they passed through the gate and into the shadow of the Tower. She craned her neck up so far, Kris had to catch her shoulder to keep her from falling backwards.

“Don’t hurt yourself, kid. We’ve got a better view coming up.” They winked.

They made their way through the lobby, Kris trying not to get too distracted with greeting her coworkers. Maybe it wasn’t professional, but as far as Kris was aware, there wasn’t another professional battling facility like this. The idea had sprung up after challenging Red at the top of Mount Silver, when Kris had decided they needed a place to battle all-out that didn’t require bringing a partner with Flash along.

They were still waiting on Red to accept their invitation. Which he would, or else he was stupid and just liked getting hailed on twenty-four seven.

Anyway. The point was, Kris got to make the rules. And the rules said she could crack jokes with the other trainers, and blast music during matches, and show her cousin the sweet view from her room.

“You’re not scared of heights, are you?” Kris thought to ask after pressing the elevator button for floor 100.

“N-no…?”

Her shuddering wasn’t really inspiring confidence. The elevator was already ascending, though.

Kris didn’t need to worry. It looked like Evelyn was too distracted by everything else about their room to notice the height.

“Oh…”

Evelyn’s blue eyes were wide as a Hoothoot’s as she scanned the room from left to right. The shelves of pokémon plushes and trophies and knicknacky souvenirs. The desk shoved into the gap between the shelves and TV. The Nintendo64 with only one controller. The posters plastering one of the two walls that wasn’t glass. The noble but, uh, unfruitful attempt at an indoor garden. The two beds smushed together, one higher than the other.

“You… you have two beds… is one, for, u-um—”

“Of course it’s for you!” Kris clapped her on the back, a little harder than they meant to. Oops. “It’s just an air mattress, but I wasn’t sure if you were staying here or with Mom—uh, Aunt Beryl—tonight. I should probably give her a call now that you’re here…”

There was a landline down in the lobby. It wouldn’t be the first time Kris had to call from there.

“Y-you can use my, um, my PokéNav—i-if you want! I saved Aunt Beryl’s number… but, um, you probably know it already s-since she’s your mom. Um.”

Man, did Kris really look that scary? Evelyn was practically shaking out of her hoodie, even as she held out her PokéNav.

“Sure, thanks!” Kris accepted the foreign device, smiling unnaturally bright. It didn’t help much, considering Evelyn wouldn’t look up at her to see it.

Maybe Kris would leave her alone for a bit. Give her some time to settle in. Then maybe she’d be up for doing more fun stuff, later.

“I’ll just, uh—I’m gonna step out for a minute. Make yourself at home, okay? You can play any of my games, or my computer, or—whatever you want. Long as you’re here, this is your room too.”

“U-um, o-okay. I mean, um, thank you!” Evelyn’s smile looked more like a grimace, but at least it was something.

Kris gave her a thumbs up and stepped out of the room. Once the door was shut, she leaned against the wall and rubbed her forehead.

Hopefully Mom would have some advice on how to stop scaring their poor cousin spitless.

XXX

Evelyn was alone, at what looked like the top of the world. She kept her back to the wide windows—it was probably beautiful out, but her stomach was still upset from the long ride on the ship. She would be a horrible guest if she gave herself vertigo and threw up on her cousin’s floor.

She pulled her knees close to her chest, perching at the edge of the air mattress. Counting her breaths, like Morgan had taught her.

Tears pricked in her eyes. She bit her lip, trying to force them back.

She missed Morgan already. She missed Nita. She even missed Dana.

She shut her eyes, but all she saw was Dana flying away on Mom’s Moltres, again and again and again, leaving her crying on Lilycove’s beach.

And now she was crying again. Dana had been right to leave—Evelyn would’ve just gotten in her way.

She rocked back and forth, trying to find some comfort in the gentle motion. Like floating on the waves, clinging to her Finneon’s side, not on the deck of a heaving boat.

Could she let Sunburn out of her ball here? Kris had said to make herself comfortable, but the Finneon might be spooked by the new surroundings. Evelyn would feel horrible if she broke anything. No, she’d have to deal with this—this stupid, irrational panic—on her own.

She reached into her pocket for her PokéNav to play some music—but it was with Kris. Right. That was fine, too—she was fine, she could be fine, she didn’t need her sisters treating her like, like a baby—

She sniffled again. She was going to get snot on the fresh sheets Kris had given her. Kris would think she was so ungrateful…

She spotted a box of tissues on Kris’s desk. She couldn’t make a mess of those… probably.

Huddled on the desk chair, Evelyn blew through tissues until the rubbish bin was overflowing. So much for not making a mess.

Stupid, stupid, stupid…!

She tried to dry her face on her sleeves. Kris could be back any minute, and if they saw Evelyn like this… oh, she’d be scarlet for herself…

Her elbow bumped Kris’s keyboard, making the monitor flash to life. She flinched, but thankfully, it didn’t look like she’d hurt anything. The screen just showed Kris’s desktop—a photo of them and a smirking redheaded man. They had their arms around each other, and a whole team of pokémon surrounded them. Evelyn didn’t recognize most of the pokémon, but they all looked intimidating. Except maybe the small snail-like one with the red-and-white shell. It must’ve been strong, though, or Kris wouldn’t have it.

Kris was strong. Their Battle Tower made Ma’s old Battle Maison look like a wee shack, and they were as popular among the trainers here as Da had been in the Contest Circuit. Why would they waste their time with a cousin who couldn’t even keep her head together?

Well, they wouldn’t, probably. Evelyn would go stay with Aunt Beryl in New Bark Town. That had been her plan from the beginning—to stay out of the way, where she couldn’t make things worse for anyone.

Evelyn wasn’t strong. She wasn’t fearless, or smart, or determined—not like her sisters. They could carry on Ma and Da’s work without her.

She dropped her damp face onto the desk—and accidentally hit the keyboard, again. Why couldn't she pay attention to what she was doing—!

Scrambling for the mouse, she tried to click out of the window she’d opened. It looked like a decorations storage box, like Morgan and Dana had in their secret bases. Evelyn had always wanted a secret base, but she wasn’t old enough, and then by the time she was, well—she was here. She didn’t even have a Secret Power TM in case she found a spot here in Johto. Not that she would, because she wasn’t—she wasn’t brave enough for an adventure, Dana even said so, even Nita who was two years younger got to go with Morgan but it didn’t matter how old Evelyn was, she was still a baby—

Her hand shook. She misclicked. What—what did she do? Kris had said she could use the computer, but she didn’t want to mess up her cousin’s items—

The screen scrambled, flooding with nonsense letters and symbols. Evelyn’s legs went numb. She screamed.

(Not again not again not again notagainnotagain)

But then she blinked. The screen was fine. Maybe she hadn’t—maybe she’d imagined it. She was just… just tired. She’d left that—that thing back home; it couldn’t break anything here.

Clicking more firmly, she closed the decoration menu. Whew.

She turned around to see a̷̲̮̕n̸͍̓͝ a̶͚͚̲͇͋͝ḏ̶͊o̸̡͎͉̘̔̒̃r̶͖͙̩̮̈́̀͝à̸̬̖̅b̷̖̺̯̳̍̋̿̄l̵̦̩̳͓̓ȩ̶͔̓—̴̢͉̃ͅ

A doll with her face.

Her shriek put her earlier scream to shame. The doll—it looked just like her, wearing the same clothes, the same sobbing expression stitched into its fabric skin.

Evelyn didn’t dare move—couldn’t move, not with her useless legs—even though everything in her screamed to P̶̱͓̠̯̳̼̓Ǔ̶̡͎̜̳̫̼̙̱͇̖̰̤͖̭̜̰̖̜̟̫̀̇̈́̽̇͋̈́̅͝͝͝T̶̪̟̈́̈́̋͑͆̀́̈͘ ̵̛̥̼̖̹̳̼̞͚̗̟̜̝̩̼̣͙͒̅͑̎̽̑͌͒̏̐̊̍̂̔̾̆̕̕͜I̷̛̩̳̋̂̂͒̈́͗͆͊̋͊͌͋̇̆̚̕T̶̟͛̍̇̀̄̍͊͝ ̸̡͈̭̥̔̑͌͛̍͂́̏̄Ã̷̛̰̝̹͕̹͖̎̽͆̿̉͂̾͊͂̇̒̾͆̂͜W̸̼̫͙̤̖̟͚̘̦͕̙̤̰̭̙͋̀̍̓͒̑́̍̿̓̈́͘̕ͅͅA̶̝͒̓̈́̂̾͂͠Y̷̲̘̪̱̻̟̖̦̰̝̩̺̬̲̆̈́̌͛̋̀̃͑̌͆̑͂̏̅̆̍ͅ.̷̡̢̢̢̺͉̬̙̤͙̺̪̹̜̦̟͚̔̂́͂̀͜ͅͅ. She couldn’t turn her back on it, couldn’t risk it blinking at her with those black button eyes, or—or whatever else it might do.

She’d escaped the floating question mark—the “D̸̑ͅẹ̵̊ḉ̵a̸̓͜m̸̱̌a̶̪͝r̸̟̀k̷̛̩,” Ma’s notes called it—so why was this happening? Was she cursed, like Dana said?

Was she going mad?

“Evelyn!” Kris burst into the room, slamming the door against the wall so hard that one of her posters fell. “Are you okay?”

Evelyn had blinked when they’d come in. The doll was gone.

“I—I—”

She couldn’t get anything else out. She choked off into a pathetic sob.

“Holy—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Kris ran to her so fast they slammed their shin against the coffee table. Still they barely let out a hiss before wrapping Evelyn in their arms. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I won’t leave you alone again—that was stupid, I should’ve…”

Evelyn buried her face in her cousin’s shirt. She was getting snot and tears everywhere, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t make herself look up.

Kris was strong. If anything happened—if the doll, or the Ḏ̸̉ĕ̶͈c̸̭̿a̸̯͛ḿ̷̮ä̸́ͅr̵̭̂k̵͑ͅ, or anything else came back—Kris could handle it. Maybe they’d make fun of her like Dana, or pity her like Morgan, but she’d still be safe.

“We—we can find you a new room, if the height’s too scary,” Kris said. Their voice didn’t sound like pity—instead like they were… afraid?

“N-no!” Evelyn said quickly. “I don’t want… I want—I want to s-stay. With you. P-please…!”

“Of course. You got it, boss.”

She let out a snivel-snort. Boss. She was barely—barely even worthy of being a Grunt.

Kris rubbed her back. They didn’t complain about the snot, or tell her to compose herself.

They stayed.

“If you wanna talk about it… or, anything else, really… I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

Despite everything, Evelyn believed them. Her mouth wouldn’t form any words, though. How could she explain the doll that could’ve been her clone? Did Kris even know about the “glitches” that Ma and Da had been studying? Her tutors had always dismissed such things as superstitions and imaginations.

“M-maybe… later,” she finally mumbled.

“Okay. There’s plenty of time—Mom can’t make it here until tomorrow, anyway—not that you have to go with her! If you’d rather stay here at the Battle Tower, I mean, there’s plenty of room. Do you like battling?”

The question startled Evelyn enough that she finally looked up.

“I… I d-don’t know? Morgan does—she’s my oldest sister. She wants to be as good as Ma was… b-but, um. I haven’t. I-I mean, I was too little when Ma, um… she couldn’t teach me. So I’d probably be awful…”

And she was rambling, on and on and on. How could she have so little to say and still take so long to say it?

“Well. I, uh, didn’t know Aunt Laz, but I’m no pushover myself. If you wanna learn, there’s no better trainer in Johto to teach you.” Kris grinned.

Evelyn’s eyes widened.

“You—you would? But, y-you must be so busy—”

“Hey, that’s the perk of being my own boss. I can set my own hours.” They winked. “You have a pokémon yet?”

“A-ah—? Oh!” She reached into her hoodie pocket, pulling out two purple pokéballs. “I’ve got—well, I can only really use one…”

She had to squint at the two Master Balls to find the pokémon’s names. She put away the one with Da’s Latios. He was much too strong to fight for a trainer with no gym badges, even if he was always gentle when playing with her.

“Th-this is Sunburn, my, um, Finneon…”

She looked up again, and saw Kris gaping.

“You. You have—two Master Balls? And used one on a Finneon?”

“A-a-ahh! I didn’t—! I mean, me Da caught her for me!”

Kris’s brow furrowed.

“Man. Either your parents were stupid rich, or the ball market in Hoenn is something else.”

Evelyn frowned. She hadn’t known there was anything strange about having Master Balls. Maybe she should get some plain ones, just so no one would look at her oddly.

Kris shook their head.

“Anyway. You’ve got a pokémon, so that’s great! We can start training tomorrow. Tonight, we party.”

Evelyn stiffened. Party? She hadn’t been to a party since… since Ma had opened the Battle Maison, probably. The thought made her nervous, but at least glitches never seemed to torment her when other people were around. A party was the safest place she could be.

“O-okay!” She forced a smile, and Kris patted her shoulder.

“That’s the spirit!”

Evelyn would be on her best behavior, just like Morgan had taught her. Maybe then she could make up for embarrassing herself in front of Kris.

XXX

When Kris and Evelyn arrived later that evening, a hodgepodge of potluck food filled the long mess hall table. Kris was delighted to see that a bowl of Kingler legs lay steaming in the center of the table.

“Hey, there they are!” Sawyer waved from the far side of the table, his pokemaniac cloak flapping with the motion.

“Finally! Almost thought you forgot!” Lancaster laughed.

“They broke their Pokégear again, so I wouldn’t be surprised…”

“Hey.” Kris pretended to look stern. “That was a training accident. Could’ve happened to anyone.”

“Hmm. Yes.” Ogden adjusted his glasses with a smirk. “Statistically, with the number of times you’ve been unreachable in the past six months, each of us should have had two incidents apiece. Anyone, indeed.”

“Oh, stuff a Kingler leg in it.” Kris grinned. “Literally. Thanks for the grub, everyone. Dig in!”

None of the trainers had to be told twice. Kris snuck their store-bought berry tray onto a corner of the table before the commotion got to be too much.

“Man, I’ve been a terrible cousin. You’re probably starving too, huh?”

They looked down at Evelyn, who was glued to Kris’s side, like one core of a Magneton clinging to the others.

“Um—o-oh! No, I’ve been fine, honest!”

“Sure.” Kris nodded, though they didn’t buy it one bit. “You ever had Johto food before? I can show you all the best stuff. The Kingler legs are awesome, obviously, but you gotta try Alexander’s stuffed apricorns, too. That’s a classic.”

Evelyn followed Kris through the line, copying the dishes they loaded on their paper plate exactly. Once Kris realized this, they made sure to get even more food than usual. Evelyn could use a little extra bulk.

Cushions lined the edges of the room, and Kris set down their plate to grab two of them, flopping them down near the biggest group of trainers. While Evelyn poked tentatively at the food, Kris flagged over some of their less intimidating coworkers.

“Hey, Park! Come say hi to my super cool cousin!”

“Raine, have you met Evelyn yet? She’s got a water type partner, too!”

“Andrews, you’re fourteen, right? My cousin Evelyn’s about your age!”

At first, Evelyn looked ready to melt into the grooves in the hardwood, but with each introduction her nervousness seemed to slip away. She sat up a little straighter, smiled a little brighter. Maybe all she’d needed was someone else to have some confidence in her.

Lucky for Evelyn, Kris had plenty of confidence to go around. If they kept her close enough, some was bound to rub off eventually.

That was all assuming Evelyn wanted to stay, of course. She might want to go to New Bark with Mom, where everything was quieter. Less scary.

Kris polished off their Kingler legs as Andrews showed off her Espeon.

It was up to Evelyn. Judging from the way she glowed as she pet the psychic pokemon, though, she’d fit in here just fine.

#trainer kris #battle chatelaine evelyn #pokemon #tali writes #pokemon glitch au #fic tag #warnings for some corrupted text and mild horror imagery

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