#but keep the dream alive gang

[liriostigre]

Jeff Buckley's poem, “New Year's Eve Prayer,” performed at Sin-é, Manhattan, NYC, 1994.

You, my love, are allowed to forget about the Christmas you just spent stressed out in your parents' house.

You, my love, are allowed to shed the weight of all the years before, like bad disco clothes. Save them for a night of dancing stoned with your lover.

You, my love, are allowed to let yourself drown, every night, in bottomless, wild and naked symbolic dreams.

You, my love, in sleep can unlock your youth and your most terrifying magic; and dreaming is for the courageous.

You, my love, are allowed to grab my guitar and sing me idiot love songs if you've lost your ability to speak. Keep it down to two minutes.

You, my love, are allowed to rot and to die and to live again, more alive and incandescent than before.

You, my love, are allowed to beat the shit out of your television, choke its thoughts and corrupt its mind. Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill the motherfucker! Before the song of zombified pain and panic and malaise and it's narrow right-winged vision and it's cheap commercial gang rape becomes the white noise of the world, turn about is fair play.

You, my love, are allowed to forgive and love your television.

You, my love, are allowed to speak in kisses to those around you and those up in heaven.

You, my love, are allowed to show your babies how to dance full bodied, starry eyed, audacious, supernatural and glorified.

You, my love, are allowed to suck in every single endeavor.

You, my love, are allowed to be soaked like a lovers' blanket, in the New York summertime, with the wonder of your own special gift.

You, my love, are allowed to receive praise.

You, my love, are allowed to have time.

You, my love, are allowed to understand.

You, my love, are allowed to love.

Woman, disobey, when little men believe.

You, my love, are Rebellion.

#posting this in May cause time is an illusion #and bc i'm allowed to rot and to die and to live again more alive and incandescent than before and to post whatever i want #👍 #if anyone has suggestions about the transcription let me know please #jeff buckley

[persevereforahappyending]

Luck Runs Out |Part 6|

Pairing: Mabel x Reader

Summary: When your luck runs out you unknowingly drag Mabel back into the life, she's so desperate to escape.

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 3.3k

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Mabel jumped in her car, speeding away before Charlie even had the chance to close his door. “Geez,” he said, as he fumbled with the seat belt. “I’m pretty sure getting a speeding ticket isn’t apart of acting normal.

Mabel slowed her speed to just above the speed limit. She had a habit of driving fast, but Charlie was right, her driving around crazy was going to draw attention. “Sorry,” she mumbled. She just needed to get to the dock, get on the Finestkind, find the drugs, get rid of the drugs, then all she had to worry about was you.

Getting rid of drugs, a gang was looking for was actually going to be the easiest part of her day. Even if they got rid of the drugs, she still had to worry about you. You were healing up nicely and you’d probably be able to take care of yourself, but you didn’t have anywhere to go. Even if the dealers thought you were dead, they still would most likely catch you trying to go back to your apartment. It wasn’t like you could sneak off to the police, you’d get yourself arrested trying to take the others down and it would leave you in even more danger.

The only solution was to sneak you out of town. Which was relatively easy, she could sneak you out to her car at night, hide you in the backseat and then just drive the next state or two over. Once you were out of town you could hop on a bus or train and be gone. She hadn’t talked to you about that, you might have dreamed about traveling the world on a boat but that didn’t mean you wanted to leave everything you knew behind. There was also the small fact that everyone thought you were dead, if you got fingerprinted or anything like that you’d pop up as deceased. So, you either needed to live off the grid, get a new identity, or they had to find a way to believably resurrect you, and deal with the drug dealers so you didn’t actually end up dead.

Mabel enjoyed talking to you, she enjoyed reading The Odyssey, something she had never considered actually reading. But when she had to talk to the doctor, a man she hated, and had to go risk her life to destroy some drugs, she was reminded what a pain in the ass you were. You were nice but your mere presence seemed to start shit, you were a troublemaker, and you knew it. She was sure that if you weren’t the instigator in all your disagreements with the Finestkind crew then you definitely fed into everyone else, twisting the knife just a bit more to really piss them off.

Her foot pressed down on the gas pedal just a bit harder as she was reminded about the doctor. He texted her with his fee, which she promptly ignored. She knew she would have to pay it, she just needed to figure out how to come up with the money. He was charging her an outrageous amount, over fifty grand. Before they had even got out of her apartment complex, he had sent her the amount added from the refill on the pain meds, which was another ten thousand. He didn’t need the money, she knew he charged to keep quiet more than anything, but she was pretty sure none of his other clients were paying that much. He was only getting away with charging her that much because he knew he could, he knew Mabel couldn’t argue with him. The situation was too risky, if she tried to argue he could start fishing around and learn about you and what happened.

She hadn’t told you about any of that yet. She wasn’t sure she was going to. Once they figured out how to get you out of this situation alive, you’d be gone, and she’d probably never see you again. She could have told you about owing the doctor, you were nice enough, you’d probably help her pay it off or insist on doing it yourself. You were the reason she had to even contact the guy in the first place, but she was the reason he was called, she made that decision not you. She couldn’t guilt you into paying him when she was the one that brought him into the fold.

She also couldn’t imagine putting you in his debt. You might have been a drug smuggler, but you clearly didn’t like it. The way you spoke made it sound like you got stuck in that life, before she got out, she was stuck there because of her mother, though you hadn’t mentioned any family yet. She wasn’t sure why she expected you to mention your family, you didn’t know each other, you were strangers. Talking about Greek mythology and helping her with homework didn’t suddenly make you best friends, she had barely known you a week.

“Mabel!” Charlie shouted, breaking her out of her spiraling thoughts. She looked at him to see him pressing himself back into the seat as far as he could, his hand extended as he braced himself with the door handle.

Mabel looked ahead, slamming on her breaks as she approached a red light. “Sorry,” she mumbled again.

Charlie looked at her with wide eyes, slowly taking his hand away from the door. He let out a shaky breath as he slowly relaxed into his seat again. She rolled her eyes, though if he hadn’t of broken her out of her thoughts, she definitely would have run the red light. Charlie’s been in the car with her before, he should be very familiar with her driving, and he was the reason for half of her crazy driving. The first time they hooked up he had her racing to the ocean so he could jump onto the boat that had already left, he had no right to judge her driving now.

“So…” he whistled. Mabel glanced at him, raising a brow as she watched him refuse to look in her direction. “You and Y/N seem to be getting pretty close…” he quickly glanced at her before looking ahead again.

Mabel slowly released a breath, preventing herself from snapping at him. When the light turned green, she began to go a more reasonable speed this time. “Yeah, and?” She asked, turning down the street she needed to.

Mabel was reminded of your kiss, well her almost kiss with you. She told herself she wasn’t going to do anything with you, that it didn’t matter if you were cute, or nice, or fun to talk to, you were trouble, and she didn’t want trouble. Even though you didn’t seem to want trouble either, maybe if given the option you’d actually leave the life you led. People talked about wanting out but actually doing it was key. Mabel wasn’t sure how many times her mom promised to get clean or to stop dealing when she was growing up, Mabel believed her the first few times, but her mother never even attempted to do as she promised. At the end of the day words meant nothing, not when the person could just ignore them, actions truly spoke louder in her opinion. Mabel wanted to believe you though, that you wanted a better life, a life that didn’t involve breaking the law.

“Nothing!” Charlie’s voice went higher. Mabel flicked a side glance at him, seeing him nervously tap his fingers on the side of the door. “Just… be careful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mabel snapped. She knew Charlie was just trying to be protective, but he didn’t have a right to say who she could and couldn’t hang out with, they weren’t even together anymore.

“We found them floating in the ocean,” Charlie looked at her as if that said everything. “With a gunshot wound and floating on packs of drugs.” Mabel turned her head to glare at him before having to look back at the road. “They’re bad news Mabel.”

“I’m pretty sure your brother once told you the same thing about me.”

“That’s different,” Charlie said, his voice still soft. It was clear he didn’t want this to become an argument. “They’re a drug smuggler.”

“Yeah, well my mom’s a dealer, I used to do runs,” Mabel started going off. “Last year you guys needed money and had no issue smuggling drugs to get it.”

“That was only one time!”

Mabel clenched her jaw as she narrowed her eyes at the road before them, they couldn’t arrive at the docks quick enough. “We broke up.” Mabel quickly glanced at Charlie, catching his face fall before he quickly recovered as if everything was fine. “You don’t really have a say in who I associate with. Especially when you brought said person to my door.” She flicked a glare at him.

“Just because we broke up doesn’t mean I don’t still…” Charlie shouted but it quickly died before whatever he was about to say. “It doesn’t mean I don’t still care about you.” Mabel looked at him again to see him staring right back at her with all the sincerity in those puppy dog eyes of his. “You worked hard to get out of that life. I know I’m the reason you’re in this mess now, which I’m sorry for.” He looked down, the guilt truly eating away at him. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Mabel tore her eyes away from Charlie, she needed to focus on the road. “I know,” she whispered. “I know. But I can take care of myself, and I can make my own decisions.”

She quickly glanced at Charlie one last time seeing him nod. “I know. I’m well aware how capable you are,” he smiled to himself.

Mabel didn’t want to admit it, but Charlie was right, not that she’d ever tell him that. He was saying everything she was already thinking. There was no reason for her to get close to you and put herself in that position again. She enjoyed talking to you and she knew you were a good person but even if she wasn’t involved with any of that stuff anymore, if she was with you, she’d still be connected to it. As cute as you were, she couldn’t bring herself to start something, she couldn’t be with someone when every day she’d worry they were going to get arrested or something worse. Not matter how much fun she was having with you she couldn’t involve herself in that life anymore, she got out and she was going to stay out.

They finally arrived at the dock, making their way down to where the boats were anchored. Mabel followed Charlie as he speed walked to the boat, in a rush but not enough that it was drawing attention. She looked around, looking for any people that stuck out, anyone who didn’t scream fisherman. Mabel caught sight of a man walking around, he was in casual clothes, but he certainly wasn’t a fisherman, he was walking back and forth as he eyed the boats and the people coming on and off them. As soon as his head started to turn in their direction Mabel looked forward, they didn’t know her, as long as she wasn’t caught staring, she’d be fine.

They finally got to the boat; Mabel scrunched her eyebrows as she looked around not seeing any of the crew. “Tommy!” Charlie shouted, making his way inside the boat. Mabel followed behind, giving another quick look at the man she saw on the docks before, he wasn’t looking anywhere near her, still watching the other boats. “Tommy!”

“Where are they?” Mabel asked.

“I don’t know,” Charlie pushed past her as he made his way through the boat. “Tommy! Costa! Nunes!” Charlie looked in every corner of the boat, not finding his brother or the others.

“Maybe they assumed you wouldn’t be back and left?” Mabel knew it was a long shot and she didn’t believe it as she asked it.

“Maybe,” Charlie mumbled but clearly not believing it either. “Let’s just get the drugs. I’ll find Tommy after.”

Mabel nodded. “Where are they?”

“Hidden amongst the bunks. I think that’s where Tommy hid them,” he pointed to the small set of bunks on one of the walls.

Mabel made her way to one set of bunks while Charlie went to the other. They both dug through the bunks, ripping the sheets and pillowcases off, even flipping the mattresses. When they found nothing, they moved to check every other inch of the room, flinging open cabinets, boxes, bags, anything that looked like it could hold something, they searched.

“They’re not here!” Mabel shouted frustrated.

“They have to be!” Charlie snapped, pushing past her as he made his way to another area of the boat.

Mabel rolled her eyes and followed him. She stood in the doorway as she watched Charlie begin to tear the boat apart looking for any place the drugs might be. Within minutes Charlie had turned the entire ship upside down, boxes flung all across the room, papers scattered about, but still no drugs.

“Maybe they moved them?” he said, looking at Mabel as if he were hoping she’d agree with him. “Tommy’s not here, so maybe,” he looked around as if he were trying to find the answer in their surroundings. “Maybe he took them? Maybe he moved them from the ship because he knew it was dangerous? Maybe-”

He was cut off by a phone ringing. Mabel held her breath as she watched Charlie fish out his phone. He looked at the screen before quickly swiping and bringing it to his ear. “Tommy!” Mabel released her breath when she heard Charlie say his brother’s name. “Thank god! I was worried, where-”

Mabel furrowed her brow, tilting her head as she watched Charlie abruptly stop talking. His face went pale, and he gripped the phone just a bit tighter. He looked at Mabel and despite not being able to hear the other side of the conversation Mabel knew it wasn’t Tommy on the other end.

“Who is this?” Charlie asked, any kindness in his voice from before was gone.

Charlie stepped around Mabel, making his way back to the front of the boat. Mabel followed, nearly bumping into him when she found him standing on the deck. She followed his gaze; he was staring right at the man she had seen before. The man was also on the phone and was staring right at them. It seemed Mabel had gotten it wrong; the guy did notice them getting on the boat.

“She has nothing to do with this,” Charlie said, making Mabel snap her eyes to him. “No.” Mabel knew they were talking about her, but she couldn’t figure out about what exactly. “I’ll come but she gets to leave. She isn’t involved in this.”

Mabel was about to protest; she didn’t know what she was about to protest but she knew she wanted to protest it. Before she could say a word Charlie hung up, gently gripped Mabel by the arm and began to drag her off the boat. Mabel pulled with all her strength, but Charlie was determined to keep ahold of her.

“Go home,” he ordered once they got back to her car. “Don’t come back here, don’t call me, don’t ask questions. Just go home and stay there.”

“No,” Mabel said, finally ripping her arm out of his grip. “Who the hell was that?”

“Whose ever drugs those were,” he pointed back to the boat. “They got Tommy, the others, and the drugs. They demanded I come too.”

“No! Hell no. It’s a trap.”

Charlie groaned, clearly not wanting to have this argument. “They want to know about the drugs. If I don’t go, they’ll kill Tommy.”

“Then I’m coming too.” Mabel started to walk back down to the dock, but Charlie held up his hands keeping her in place.

“No. It’s to dangerous. Go home and I’ll come over when I’m done.”

“Charlie-”

“Just go!” Charlie’s voice rose. “Please,” he begged. “Please, you can’t be involved in this. You know you can’t.”

Mabel sighed, shaking her head, it was a mistake coming to the dock, she should have listened to you. She ran a hand through her hair, Charlie was right, if she went it would only put her and them in more danger. The problem was that Charlie didn’t know anything about the drugs, unless he decided to sell you out, which he wouldn’t do. Meaning he needed to choose his words carefully otherwise these guys wouldn’t hesitate to kill him and the others.

“Be careful,” she finally whispered, knowing there was no winning this argument. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I promise,” Charlie whispered then gave her that stupid grin he always gave before doing something stupid.

He waited until Mabel got in her car before walking back down to the dock. Mabel started her car but sat and watched as he approached the man. A black car quickly pulled up and the man grabbed Charlie by the arm and began aggressively forcing him into the car. Every part of Mabel wanted to go after them, she knew there was nothing she could do though. So, she put her car in drive and drove away.

Mabel was back at her place before she even knew it. She wasn’t even sure if she sped the whole way home or not. Charlie being forced into the car, played over and over again in her mind. She mindlessly opened the door to her apartment, dropping the keys on the counter as she stood in the doorway.

“Are you okay?” you asked. Mabel looked up, seeing you standing in front of her. She looked around, realizing she hadn’t moved from the doorway. “What happened?” you looked behind her. “Where’s Charlie?” your eyes darted all around her face, but Mabel couldn’t focus on anything.

“They took him,” she breathed out. She didn’t need to elaborate based on the way your face fell and became full of concern. “They have all of them and the drugs. They have everything,” Mabel gripped her hair. “Wha-what are we going to do? They have them. They have them.” Her breathing was starting to get heavy; it was like she couldn’t catch her breath. “What are we going to do? What are we-”

The words died in her mouth when she was quickly engulfed in a hug by you. This was her first time touching you, she had cleaned your wound, sure, and had helped you move around but that didn’t count, this was her first time truly touching you. Mabel wasn’t big on touch; she was never one to hold hands and only hugged people she was close with on rare occasions. She didn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around you though, burying her face in your hoodie, her hoodie. She had barely known you, hadn’t even known you a month but your hug already brought her a comfort that no one else had.

“It’ll be okay,” you whispered, rubbing a hand up and down her back. “We’ll get them back. I promise.”

Mabel knew you couldn’t promise that. In general, no one could promise that but with what they were dealing with, a good outcome was even less likely. The odds of never hearing from any of them again and them ending up as missing persons on the news in a few days was a lot more likely than Charlie arriving, completely unharmed, knocking on her door in a few hours. However, when you said those words, Mabel believed you. So, she pulled you even tighter against herself and let your warmth comfort her and she silently hoped that you would be right.

#mabel finestkind #mabel (finestkind) #mabel x reader #mabel x fem!reader #mabel x you #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #finestkind 2023 #luck runs out

[gothicknightz]

3am pt. 2 | ethan landry

notes: omg you guys 😭😭 i love appreciate every one of you ty for keeping the hype alive, SCREAM 6 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

She awoke up in a horrible cold sweat, having the worst nightmare about getting attacked by Ghostface on her way back from a party Chad had invited her to.

Sitting up in a disarray and out of breath, the quick pain shooting from the side of her stomach hitting instantly.

So it wasn't a dream.

Now sitting up, her heart was racing as she looked around and spotted Ethan, her boyfriend, passed out on a nearby chair, his phone still in hand.

She could barely remember what had happened before she passed out, but she assumed that Ethan had found her.

Then his phone started to ring.

This startled Ethan awake, nearly dropping his phone in the process. As he noticed his girlfriend in front of him, he rushed over to her side immediately.

“(y/n), you're awake.”

He was careful when it came to hugging her, as her stab wound was recently patched up, and it was a miracle that the knife didn't hit any vital organs.

"Yeah," She mumbled, groaning as she attempted to sit up, "Someone's callin' you, Ethan." Her eyes flashed to caller I.D, which flashed a picture of Chad in a Hawaiian shirt and cowboy hat.

Ethan was too tired to react properly, and in turn, picked up the phone without a proper introduction or 'yeah.' Instead, the news was dropped onto him that Anika and Quinn were murdered by Ghostface.

"What?" His face was painted in a look of shock as he glanced worriedly at (y/n), holding her closer yet gently.

"How's (y/n), is she doing alright?"

"She's a fighter. I'll be there."

As he hung up, Ethan turned to his girlfriend and planted a kiss on her head, "Look," He said, placing an arm around her shoulders, "Anika and Quinn were murdered, and I- I'm gonna go check up with everyone, okay?"

(y/n) shook her head dismissively before pushing herself upwards, Ethan quickly going to her side for her aid, "I'm coming whether you like it or not. I wanna catch this guy as much as I want him dead."

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

As Ethan and (y/n) arrive at the crime scene, Mindy was fairly accusatory after the death of her girlfriend, Anika, to which Ethan brought up the fact that he was with (y/n) at the hospital after her attack.

"Mindy, what the hell?" (y/n) ran a hand through her hair as she sat on one of the open ambulances, sighing, "I've literally been in the hospital. How could Ethan be the killer?"

"Maybe that's the cover-up. Maybe he had someone paid to dress up as Ghostface and stab you. Maybe you two are both in on it. Just think about what happened with Richie and Amber."

This annoyed (y/n), who got up and pointed to her right lateral side, "I literally got fucking stabbed! Lay off the accusations, expert, your girlfriend just dropped dead."

Mindy narrowed her eyes at the pair before being held back by her brother, who was subsequently followed by Gale brining up something that the gang would want to see.

In a matter of minutes, the group of teenagers accompanied by Kirby, Gale, and Detective Bailey, were all at some supposed 'Stab' shrine in which all of the costumes and clothes of victims were compiled into an abandoned movie theatre.

Unsettled by the fact that the past was unearthed in front of her, (y/n) was by Ethan's side the entire time, not understanding any of the backstory that came with the tragedy.

Taking a dark trip down memory lane, (y/n) sighed before the words of Kirby got her attention, dragging a way to catch, or at least, trace the killer.

Hopefully, this was the end of it.

(ughhhhhhhh im not satisfied with this ending, you know there's automatically going to be more.)

#ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #scream #scream 6 #scream vi #jack champion #anika kayoko #devyn nekoda #ghostface imagines #ghostface #quinn bailey #liana liberato #detective wayne bailey #dermot mulroney #mindy meeks martin #chad meeks martin #jasmin savoy brown #mason gooding #kirby reed #hayden panettiere #gale weathers #courtney cox #tara carpenter #sam carpenter #jenna ortega #melissa barrera

[jouska-the-deer]

Sonic Twitter and TikTok Takeover 2023 Masterpost

Guess what? I saved every response to the takeover like I did last year, and here they all are, with a bonus.

I created a transcript of every single answer and saved it in a Google Doc, which you can find the link to [Here]

Links to all the individual Tweets and Tiktoks can be found below in order of when they were answered.

Intro [Twitter Link][TikTok Link]

Sonic: Question from @MetroGamer21: “How often do you keep your quills sharp? Do you brush it yourself or do you have someone else do it?”

Sonic: Alright. Question from At Xyn…qieqie underscore- “Okay Knuckles, I just gonna know what’s under your gloves!” Uh, geez. “Is it weird spiked hands or is it just the design of the gloves?”

Amy: This question is from @SilentNayuri. They ask Eggman, (Clears throat) “Out of every machine you’ve built, which one was your favorite?"

Tails: This question is from @Prisma_Sonic. “To Sonic, have you ever wondered if there were other versions of you out there? Asking for a friend.”

Sonic: This question’s from Jack. “For Eggman.” Oh. “Why did you get rid of the yellow cape? It was so fashionable!”

Sonic: Well this question is for me from At daniel nu beh n… “For Sonic, who in the group do you think is the prettiest!”

Amy: From @Rayfun_25028. “To Knuckles, I always wondered, how are you able to glide, actually.”

Sonic: This next question comes from @pabloandoogway. “Why do none of you use the emerald power anymore?”

Eggman: Question coming in hot from @BlueBlur68. Let’s see. “For Sonic, since you guys were in Eggman’s dream, what would Sonic’s dream be like?”

Tails: Question from Leyla. They ask, “Do you guys sometimes feel dizzy when you do a spindash or jump? If not, why?”

Amy: Aw! This next one’s from @selkadombom1n. They said, “Hey gang, big fan here. Today’s takeover is actually very special because it’s also my nineteenth birthday.” Aw. “If it’s not too much to ask, could I get a happy birthday serenade from your beautiful singing voices?”

Knuckles: wyattron asks, “Do the Chaos Emeralds have different tastes with the different colors?”

Tails: @Razer, Ooh, asks, “Are there any moments where going fast is not the best option?”

Tails: This question is from Pastelz. “Knuckles, does Rouge ever come by trying to steal the Master Emerald?”

Tails: This question is from @thatblockholevt. “To Eggman. What would your fursona be?”

Amy: Yubby asks me, “Do you wear inhibitor rings?”

Sonic: Question from @HannahW_1031 to Amy, “When or how did you get into reading fortune cards and where did you get them?”

Knuckles: knulaa! asks, “What are your thoughts on knowing that you have a biggest fan?”

Tails: Question from At Real-Mephi-One-es-Fan, “To Amy Rose. How was the concert with Shadow? Did you go to any other concerts by any chance?”

Knuckles: Two Stars asks: “For Tails, where did your fear of thunder come from?”

Eggman: Question from @ShadowsTrueBiggestFan, “Can I adopt Shadow? He can’t say no he isn’t in the Twitter takeover.”

Eggman: @DigiDevilTrig asks, “Sonic, if you’re the fastest thing alive, why did you use the train to go to the Mystic Ruins?”

Sonic: This one’s from spiro. Hi Eggman, are you looking for another henchman? I could be your henchwoman? I’m on your side all the way! Team Eggman!"

Sonic: This next one’s from holz. They say, “Since Shadow isn’t present this time, what’re your opinions on him?”

Knuckles: @Sonic_Sunset asks, “We know Sonic was a huge inspiration for Tails, but does he have other sources of inspiration? Like Dr. Eggman’s machinery for example.”

Sonic: Let’s see. This next question is from ‘the dog is very cool’. Interesting, uh, username, there, but, I’m happy for you. They ask, “Can I borrow a couple rings? I wanna buy a bag of funions.” 

Tails: @45Euvee asks, “For everyone. If you were a flavor of cake, what flavor would you be?”

Knuckles: Uh, I think this is for everyone. thehiddenface52 asks, “What’s your favorite winter activity?”

Sonic: This is from sam. “To everyone, how much sleep do you need? Does the fastest thing alive need a full eight hours?”

Eggman: Question from @valiixe. “If Sonic was a worm, would any of you guys still like him?”

Knuckles: Autumn asks, “How can I convince my dad to give me all Sonic stuff for Christmas?”

Eggman: @TailsAustin9922 asks the class, “What is something that you don’t do very well that you’d like to improve on?”

Amy: Okay! Question from @JopieTropi. They ask, “If the five of you could swap roles with someone for an entire day, who would each of you choose?”

Sonic: Question from fan, “Why is it called an oven when you ove in the cold food of out hot eat the food.”

Sonic: At creator-super-long-underscore asks, “Is it painful to give Knuckles a fist bump or handshake?”

Amy: @SpongyRabbit asks Sonic, “Why don’t you just put Eggman in jail?” 

Eggman: @thefortnitelegend190 asks, “Eggman, why don’t you team with Sonic? You guys would be a really good team.”

Tails: @squidboi7674 asks, “Eggman, do you do commissions? Like can I pay you to do a custom badnik all for me, because that would be really cool I think.”

Sonic: @TyphonTwister asks, “You guys have beaten a lot of baddies over the years. This might be a little weird but, who was your favorite to fight? Besides the good doctor of course.”

Tails: ExcaliburSonic asks, “If flamingos are pink because they eat shrimp, then why are you blue? Do you eat blue paint?”

Knuckles: This is from kittyxpickle. They ask, “To Knuckles, rougher than the rest of them, are you allowed on the internet without supervision? If yes, please reconsider.”

Outro [Twitter Link] [TikTok Link]

Feel free to let me know of any mistakes or missing responses, in either this post or the transcript doc, and I'll try to fix it. I'll also take suggestions on how to improve the transcript, since this is my first time making one.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic #StH #Sonic Twitter Takeover #Sonic Twitter Takeover 2023 #Knuckles the Echidna #Amy Rose #Tails the Fox #Miles Tails Prower #Dr. Eggman #Eggman #Ivo Robotnik #Long Post #Sonic Twitter Takeover Masterpost #Sonic Twitter and TikTok Takeover #Oh god I'm exhausted I've been doing nothing but typing in the name of Sonic for almost 12 hours. #Cut me some slack if I made a few mistakes my back is literally sore from typing all day. Why did I even do this? #Also I literally do not know how TikTok works what even are people's usernames I'm serious... #I hope literally anyone finds this useful because I am In Pain.

[hwaightme]

This world

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI FOR BIKER!HWA'S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut) (masterlist) (join taglist)

🏍️ pairing: biker!seonghwa x f!reader 🏍️ genre: romance, fluff, action, smut, strangers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, smidgen of angst, sprinkles of comedy 🏍️ summary: caught between the past and present, you search for a new beginning in night city as a mechanic at outlaw customs. how will a fateful encounter with seonghwa, the leader of the blue birds, help you feel alive? 🏍️ wordcount: 16.2k 🏍️ warnings/tags: biker!hwa, quick edit, likely inaccuracies in mechanics and motorcycles, mechanic!yunho, businessman!jongho, biker!yeosang, mechanic!reader, tattooed!reader, gang life/activity, misuse of lore terminology, language, food, wounds/injuries, pain, bike chases and dangerous tricks, talk of death/rebirth, identity searching, imagery and setting inspired by outlaw trailers, lmk if anything else 🏍️ a/n: i gave myself a one day break, listened to a dream i had... and this happened. totally was not spooked today and rushed to edit in a feverish state... always, any notes, reblogs and comments are appreciated, much love~

🏍️ a/n pt2: biker!hwa supremacy also spreads to the exchange event hosted by @kflixnet for @qqtxt (and thank you @alohajun for organising!) - hope you enjoy!!

🏍️ perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @yunbug

🏍️ cannot be tagged: @mystar1024

🏍️ nsfw tags: condom used, slow, a dom!leaning reader with a soft!hwa, handjob, slight edging, praise, save a bike - ride a biker, focus on intimacy and emotional experience, some mutual masturbation, f!masturbation, literally just two people in love with each other, cuddling and implied aftercare

The artificial suns of Night City shone bright in a palette of neon hues, so vivid and vibrant that one could almost forget that there had ever been a real star in the first place. Kids wished on blinking lightbulbs and travellers followed endless expanses of darkness, more accustomed to uncertainty than the belief that there was a veritable ally in the form of a celestial sign or a constellation. Everyone wore the same perfume: an acrid concoction of smog, grease and disgust that lingered whenever a visitor from another district came by, blending to form a hatred for all things that existed outside of the palace of neon. This was the palace that you had willingly made your home, and found that if you were to shut your eyes and then dare to peek through your lashes at the kaleidoscopic landscape, it took on the shape of an eloquent illusion of divinity. A rudimentary vision, a utopia carved out in impermanence, commanded by wishful thinking and a desire for anything except what you had known. This was your new home, and you were going to try as you might to cling to it, and find peace amidst the suffocating starless expanse.

You had arrived without a particular plan in mind, with only a rucksack and the tattoos decorating your skin to keep you company on your journey. The only persistent parasite that gnawed at your flesh and jolted you awake like a scalding whip when the roads seemed to be endless, was a burning desire to erase anything, everything that served as a reminder. While you were a believer in growing from the past, and reflecting on it, treating each memory and learned skill as a stepping stone towards a better future, the weight of each step was overwhelming, the gaps between them unbearable, and soon enough, you found yourself to be stretched too thin over your own existence, to the point where you had gained an alarming transparency, one tiny step away from disappearing into the lack of self that you had wholly succumbed to until your sudden evaporation and accidental escape to Night City. 

At the same time, you were not entirely ungrateful for the ‘you’ you had become. The miscellaneous arsenal of know-how and street smarts landed you a job, had you settled into a group of people who did not seem too bad and most importantly did not ask too many questions, gave you a roof over your head and had you working long hours in the garage from the get-go. That, from your experience, was the best way to forget and to start anew. So long as you did not speak to your clients more than necessary, instead focusing on their priceless metal steeds that you had the pleasure of tinkering with for hours on end. In this way, you got to see your clients at their most vulnerable, scrutinising you but so helpless that it nearly made you laugh, comparing the scene to a child watching their mother patch up a toy that they had torn after playing a little too roughly.

This approach turned out to be the one that won the big bucks in the city. Less talk, more trust. And resulted in the previously sceptical owners of the mechanic shop you had strolled into on your first day in town, passively protecting the shell of the self that you carried, uncaring for what fate had in store, to finally begin to warm up to you and treat you less like a pest, and more like a colleague. Only took them a couple of months. Though it would be foolish to hope for anything else, so you had simply settled into the rhythm of waking up, heading downstairs from the crammed studio that they had offered you - a stuffy dark corner, definitely the humblest abode but more than enough to crash in and more than generous for a person who had been a total stranger, and going to a different open cave in the garage and workshop, this time one dedicated to all things motorcycle. Since Outlaw Customs, a name which you had found incredibly comedic and ironic considering a high percentage of the clientele fit the shop description, was primarily for automobiles, there was not much dedicated to the untameable beauties that you loved so much. The head of the shop, a young man by the name of Jeong Yunho who you swore spent more time under cars than under those neon lights outside, did motorcycle repairs mainly out of necessity, following the recipes for replacement, so to speak. The locals knew that to see his craftsmanship, mastery and artistry at work, they needed to let him get his hands on a car. Of course, it did not mean that he could not fix bikes, far from that, in fact, over the years and especially after another mechanic shop was busted by the forces and forced to close for something or other - no one could ever guess what new crime was added to the list on any given day, Yunho was proud to say that he did not need to consult his hefty stack of manuals for when the most regular clients came by. But it did still mean that when he found out that he could pass off the task to a new hire, he did it in a split second, without sparing it a single thought.

As such, it was you, your beloved corner in the workshop, and a tranquillity under those buzzing fluorescent bulbs lined up on the ceiling. Not talking much, mainly business, occasionally sharing a laugh with your coworkers. They were easy to like, that much you had gathered over the months of being paid in shelter, food, water, and whatever else you needed so long as you kept on working to keep the brutes of Night City happy and the engines roaring. While the other guy in charge, Choi Jongho, an initially unreadable, unpredictable man who appeared in the store at random and mainly handled the ‘financials’, whatever it meant and you sure as all things bad were not about to get your nose in that side of the business, was somewhat less cordial with you, your nonchalance when it came to social interaction had put him at ease, along with, how he had it, your hands that told your story. Interesting what he could spot under the machine grease and fading ink.

It was another timeless day where Jongho was out for what he called ‘negotiations’ - again you did not need to know what it meant so long as the parts kept coming, Yunho was messing about with an old mustang that the customer said could be changed according to the mechanic’s own tastes, and you were idle, having just completed a re-flash of an engine control unit for a rider who apparently had nothing to lose and let you fully reconfigure his precious in the hopes of improving rideability. Same old for you, but nevertheless exciting when a new person gets so vulnerable so as to give their bike up with only faith in their hands, and in yours.

Wheeling the bike away from the main platform, you parked it right at the empty section by the brick wall lining the inner part of the garage, the aftermath of a miniature spring clean you had carried out to prep the workspace for a higher volume of bikes coming through. After patting the seat, as if lulling the machine into a slumber, you covered it with a tarp to protect it from any other dust or sparks - and subconsciously, from curious eyes if there were any that would peek into the shop. You stood up straight, taking the towel from your shoulder and attempting to wipe off the remains of your work, though much like your boss, who was now humming some random tune that he probably heard at one of the underground clubs, took pride in each stain, each streak of dirt. It was a reminder that you were here, you were present and alive, and that you were doing what others could never do exactly like you could. If anything, it was a breath of fresh air, the only one that could be ever taken in any Sector, in any City that existed in this nation, and you were almost convinced that this spread to the whole world.

Finding the stool on wheels that apparently used to belong to a nearby barbershop until that closed down, you sat down and sighed, rocking side to side by repeatedly pushing yourself with your feet before getting tired of the motion and rolling across to a workbench that you and Yunho had managed to craft out of a multi-shelved storage unit abandoned on the street, clearly another Sector’s kind donation to the local community, and you were not too proud nor picky. Picking up a brake pedal - a part off a ruined Kawasaki Ninja 2H/R that the universe threw into your arms after the wreck and helped you salvage, somewhat out of respect for the beast that it had been in its heyday, somewhat because you wondered if you could make it work on a horrific Frankenstein’s monster hybrid someday, or another bike of the same make, you twisted it, metal glinting white. The weight of memories, the feeling of it pressing against the foot despite the thick layers of rubber on the boot. Everything about that bike was as hypnotising as a dancing open flame, stunning, an engineering masterpiece, and one that you were praying to revisit, re-experience even if it was the last thing you were to ever do. Perhaps in a distant dream. Replacing the component in a top drawer of the bench, you got to work on signing off on the work completed, not that anyone even had a legal signature anymore, it was more of a quick doodle to hint at the work completed, just in case if the rider were to find themselves too far away, and had no method of fixing faults and could not recall the mods made. As if that would ever happen; you exhaled sharply, finishing the swift sketch and folding the paper in half, then into quarters and dropping the pen to let it hit the back wall. It was suspiciously peaceful at the OC, you concluded, unsettling. Only Yunho going about his business, the artificial cylindrical suns, and the neon climbing from the outside and coating the front entrance to the garage in shades of blue, purple and magenta. 

You waited in suspense, having caught the echoes of an engine in the far distance - still a few too many blocks away from you to determine what the source of it was exactly, but nevertheless, your instincts and the obvious approach of the sound was telling you that you were soon going to find out. Shutting your eyes, you made out an odd stuttering, reminiscent of a coughing fit in a human, as if the air system was out of tune, totally whack on the poor vehicle. The heart ached. Who could possibly mistreat a bike in such a way? Clutching onto the fabric of your black cargo trousers that you had decided would be something of a uniform for you, you listened on, confused. The rumble was familiar, albeit torn up and in need of a fix. Nonetheless, this was a powerful steed, a respectable monster that you could not wait to dissect and reassemble. Hands beginning to burn with excitement, heart starting to race, you stared off into the wall, waiting for the customer to arrive and made your guesses as to what the motorcycle could be like any mechanic in need of a fun pastime would. If you guessed correctly, you were in for an exhilarating time. 

Soon enough, you heard the bike grind to a halt outside of the shop, and the thump of feet hitting the concrete. Not yet looking up, you waited for the figure to approach and cross the line that marked the end of the driveway and the beginning of the garage. Hearing Yunho make a move to roll out from under the car, evidently after having seen the boots form below and recognising them, you began your own sign of common courtesy and moved to turn and stand from the stool.

“Good time of day, welcome to Outlaw Customs how may I-”

“Rear wheel is busted and the mudguard’s wrecked on the right edge, and the spark plugs need replacing - totally fouling. Can you do that in two hours? I’m on a tight schedule.

You froze, the politeness caught in your throat and fizzling out to be replaced with an astonishment at the crudeness. Raising your head to let yourself inspect the man before you fully, you found that he looked every bit like the arrogance that had oozed from the first words he spoke to you. The flashy black and orange outfit, the glimmering belt buckle, the damn chains… the usual lowlife from a gang who had nothing better to do than to be the pretty boy. Slowly, your hope for the particular bike you had placed mental bets on dissipated, to be replaced by a wish that this hoodlum had a standard no-name, beat up and totally not worth the money ride that you could half-ass and let him disappear.

With a sigh, you heaved yourself forward, approaching the biker with a cold resolve and purposefully taking your time with every movement, seeing as the less you had to speak, the higher were the chances that you were not going to cuss this man out and focus on the work you had set out for you. Knowing the bikers from these parts, either they were too knowledgeable and could diagnose correctly enough, or they were so utterly wrong that you wanted to bash their head in. Time would tell which one of the two this guy was. Before you could get a word in, much to your fortune, Yunho was by your side and wiping his hands to give the black-haired man a firm handshake. You noted that the visitor was shorter than your boss, giving you a slight inner satisfaction for an unknown reason, but you bit any remarks back and remained stone faced, seeing as you were not sure just how hostile this man was going to be towards you.

“Seonghwa, long time no see!” your boss greeted the man who now had a name, very animated, amiable. You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in a silent question.

“I see you have a new hire. Business doing well?” being addressed in third person was unsettling, but it was better than attempting to hold eye contact with the biker who gave you the urge to forget professionalism and throw a punch at lightning speed. It was hilarious how quickly your instincts returned to you in such circumstances.

“Guess you could say that, thanks to her, mainly.” with a playful smugness Yunho responded, placing a hand on your shoulder. If you did not know better, you would think that he was showing off, but his glance at you, a quick check, and his gestures made you think of your brother. Bittersweet, but still a fond series of chapters.

“Oh?” it was impossible to tell whether Seonghwa was mocking you or just taking the piss of the tenseness that he brought with him, but the bugger dared to pretend to be pleased with your presence, nearly making you scowl. But you were too good at treating people with an unnerving neutrality, so an unperturbed mechanic ready to inspect the ride you remained, much to the biker’s dissatisfaction.

You could tell that he put up a front of sorts, an attention-seeking, egoistic and merciless front, the presentation of the mentality of a murderer on the road, the man who would not hesitate to lead you into a ruin just for laughs. It was always fun to dismantle the nerve cells of such bastards; all you needed was his bike. His eyes found yours quickly enough, confident, unwavering, and your lips curled into a close-mouthed smile as if you were not just pondering the destruction of his ego. A flash of what could only be described as curiosity passed over his irises, and you swore you saw his pupils adjust as if they were a camera lens ready to capture you. His gaze travelled down your body and back up again, studying you, taking you in, settling on the tattoos that adorned your forearms and were revealed by you having pushed up the sleeves of the black turtleneck you were wearing. What was he searching for, you asked yourself before you noticed the solitary, dangling earring on his left ear discovering a single silver feather on its end. Of course he had to be a Blue Bird. Of course he had to be a so-called peace keeper of the city. No wonder he was so full of himself, at least upon first meeting. Now you really wanted to see his bike.

“Motor master, I tell you. Can sort out your beauty in no time.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Seonghwa squinted, earning an eye roll from your boss.

“Got you, yeah. Anyways, meet Y/N,” the man turned to you once again, seeing how your expression remained unchanged, “she’ll be finding common ground with your bike from now on. “Noticing how neither of you spoke nor made a move to greet, Yunho raised his hands and continued while ambling back to the car, “Now, now, don’t talk over one another, you will have plenty of time to chat.”

“So,” you began, not wishing to remain unproductive any longer and wanting to rid yourself of this client as soon as possible, “Seongh-”

“Mars.”

“Mars?”

“You address me as Mars.” he commanded, crossing his arms, the corner of his lip curling up as you searched for the right response, but quickly falling as you suppressed the desire to sneer and merely adjusted yourself to the pesky, petty demands. You had met worse, much worse than the urban chic version of hierarchy and names. Mars was something you could deal with easily enough, and gave you a lot more insight than Seonghwa could imagine.

“Mars, care to show me your bike?”

“Mm.  Follow me, Y/N.” he emphasised your name, as if the fact that you did not have a title nor a nickname gave him some odd power trip - to be frank, it would not be surprising if this actually was the case.

As you followed him out to the front, you noticed his gait was ever so slightly out of balance, a miniscule limp, likely following an injury. Again, something so common with your customers, but made you soften up the tiniest bit - in some senses Seonghwa reminded you of a wild animal that was pretending to be strong. Frustrating, yes, but he was out there trying his best to survive in the way that he knew and could. Much like everybody else, including yourself. You kept your gaze trained on the man’s back as you walked on until you very quickly found yourself right in front of the beast whose roar you had heard from all that distance away. You broke into a full grin, making Seonghwa’s brows knit together as he became perplexed. As it turned out, your prediction was more than right, and before you was a gorgeous, sleek, though having seen some battles, Suzuki Hayabusa. Customised, adored and kept pristine from what you could see. The damage that the motorised excellence had sustained looked to be new, perhaps even acquired a mere couple of hours ago, but other than that the steed was the closest you had seen to true love in Night City. It was clear that despite Seonghwa offering not the best impression, the bike told a different story, and as you crouched down to briefly inspect it at proximity, you nearly gasped. Each valve, each tiny detail was treated with kindness and affection, as if this man spent every spare moment only caring for it. The paint did made you want to giggle, however. Aside from the signature hanja for peregrine falcon, purposefully highlighted with neat strokes of paint to highlight the engineering finesse and power contained in the supreme machine, the motorcycle was completed in a dual tone, with the majority of the body done in a midnight black, and the detailing and smaller body components being done in a copper orange - stunning complement to the outfit of the rider, a full unit of owner and two-wheeler. One body, one mind. If you could start your first impression here, your thoughts of Seonghwa would be a lot more friendly, you determined. But that was the beauty of being a mechanic, you got to know people a lot closer, in secret, unknown to them. This man had a soul on fire. A soul he was attempting to hide, a soul that manifested itself in one of the fastest production motorcycles. And a soul that most certainly knew what was wrong with its metal body - the diagnoses were pleasantly accurate.

“What are you smiling for?”

“Hm, let’s get this beauty in the garage, yeah?” 

He obliged, but still did not let you touch the vehicle as he pushed it along until you told him where to leave it. Occupying an old armchair right by the platform where you fixed the bike in place, Seonghwa watched your every move, scrutinised you as you started your work on the Busa, impatient. It was customary for the bikers that came to OC to remain here like a spouse waiting for their loved one to come out of surgery, but his predator-like focus was beginning to get unsettling and ruined your concentration. You could not speak to the bike in front of you, you could not gain its trust while its owner was staring you down like you were about to tear everything apart and turn the motorcycle into scraps. Letting a tool fall onto the mat that you had rolled down on the floor, you raised your head an deadpanned to the man, catching him off-guard:

“It’ll be three hours since I expect you want the guard done up all pretty. Get me jjajangmyeon from the place down the street and I might speed it up to your optimistic two.”

Yunho’s guffaw resonated across the shop as he heard your statement and imagined the shocked look on Seonghwa’s face upon receiving the daring request. Indeed, the man was more than taken aback, curious as to how important you deemed yourself to talk to him in such style. But at the same time, it was beyond amusing. The cheek, the attitude behind a cold and monotone sentence was alluring. There was something more to you than what Yunho had proposed, and that was reassuring. Perhaps you did have the right energy to find common ground with his priceless Suzuki. Still, the first word to escape him as he recoiled from the jab was an airy question of:

“What?” quickly countered with:

“They do late night deals. Half price. If you get there within the next half hour that is. Get Yunho and yourself a bowl while you’re at it and I’ll get the job done to fit your busy schedule and be enviable.”

“Boss, are you hungry?” you called out to Yunho, who was still giggling from under the vehicle, making it appear as if the car itself was caught in a comedy.

“Aye.”

“Done then, Mars, would you be a dear and do an orbit there and back?” you could not stop yourself from bringing his chosen, given or acquired through a brutal climb name into the mix. The opportunity was just too much of a low hanging fruit to not take it.

You were playing with fire, that much was certain. You could tell that he was contemplating putting you on a hitlist; not something that you were not used to, seeing as you were still in a client-facing role even if a lot of your time was spent with silent steely beauties. But you took a risk with Seonghwa, you ceased to be careful, spurred on by the euphoric prospect of treating the customised, souped up and customised Hayabusa, and took a shot in the dark with your forwardness. As the blood that was pumping in your ears got louder with every passing moment, and you began to doubt whether this was the right call to make to get some along time with the steed, Seonghwa stirred after his ponderings. Rising from the armchair, the chains that adorned his neck glinting under the lights, he stretched more for show than for comfort and exhaled through his nose, suppressing a chuckle.

“Ask for jjamppong on top of that and I will snap your arms in half.”

“You are too kind.”  catching him mid turn, you responded, making him look back, and give you a playful, mischievous glance over his shoulder, almost boyish, as if the two of you were good friends that were used to the banter.

Releasing a breath that you did not realise you had been holding after the man disappeared from view, you returned to the Suzuki that was gracing your vision. Yunho’s laughter had subsided, and once again the buzz of the lights was the only thing that was between you and total silence. Diving into your work, you read the story etched into the curves, the miniscule dents, the scratches that were invisible to the naked eye but still there, hinting at just how much the bike and, evidently, the rider went through. The fixes were going to be complicated, but nothing that you could not do with what you had in the shop. You rested a hand on the engine, thinking of your next move, and of the dark glimmering orbs of the biker whose soul was still right here with you, watching, inspecting, but attempting, bit by bit, to trust that you would do the mechanical masterpiece justice. Of course you would, you were getting a late dinner for it after all. Besides, it was easy to love such a stunning bike, especially when you could see that it was truly loved by its owner. A soft smile on your face, you leaned forward and got back to dismantling a broken detail from the main body, already excited for the inner workings you would see behind it; the closest thing to true light that one could get in the sadistic, somnolent city of neon and night.

After the first appointment came another, and another, and more after that. The Busa almost became your personal project as what had previously been menial tasks carried out by an amateur mechanic and devilish rider, now fell to you. You knew this motorcycle better than you knew all of your tattoos, that much you were sure of. From the piping to the seating to the turbocharger you had installed, it was clear enough that Seonghwa was more than willing to let you tinker with the bike as much as he wanted you too, which with every unscheduled drop in became longer and longer. At times, Yunho would be there to participate in some idle chatter, other times, it was merely you and him on your own, either in a perfect stillness, with only the bike making the music and talking for you both, or with the occasional question thrown in either direction. 

You had found out bit by bit that Seonghwa was, as you had assumed, a member of the Blue Birds - the local crew of vigilantes, from what your boss and your ghost of a boss had told you. Brutal and unforgiving, they had taken it upon themselves to maintain something of an order in the district, though you never asked for the details on how exactly they did it. You had learned over your lifetime to ask less, unless it was about mechanics; that was always a safe bet, and a point that you would always return to if you felt the conversation going into a direction that you did not wish to explore. All other inquiries normally answered themselves from what you noticed - for instance, the limp was now gone, to be replaced by rather grim looking knuckles. But again, no comment from you. It was above your pay grade. Seonghwa, at some point, had also caught onto your avoidance and tendency to cling onto bikes for conversation, but had taken it upon himself to probe further and further through what you considered to be a strong enough barrier, to figure out why exactly was one of your tattoos on the right forearm a mark that he had avoided at all costs when he was still a youngster back in the place he used to go home, many kilometres away, now reachable through highways to hell. He could not ask directly, not when you could clog up his air filters or ruin the braking system right then and there, but curiosity was getting the better of him as the weeks turned into months, and you were doing your regular check up on the Busa.

“What’s your favourite bike, Y/N?”

“Why the sudden question?”

“Why answer a question with a question?”

“Hm… yours is pretty good.” you tried to brush his inquiry away, even though your mind instantly went to the answer, and remained stuck. You could hear the engine resonate in your chest, and could feel the handles in your palms, as you gripped onto them, tighter, tighter and turned. The feeling of a machine coming to life right beneath you, ready to race into the darkness and obey your every instruction. Turn after turn after turn. Somewhere along that race, you lost your soul, and longed for it. Blinking slowly, you hoped that Seonghwa would leave the conversation where it was, but knew that he was going to do everything except that.

“No but really. Every mechanic, every biker has their favourites. Hell, even Yunho has one and he doesn’t really work on them anymore.” leaning forward to rest his head in the palm of his hand as his elbow positioned itself on his right thigh, he focused on your response, down to the body language and each one of your cells could feel it.

“Hard to pick.” Again, vague, but you wanted to get away, hide yourself. The sensation of the brakes, how the loyal companion to your every conquest could glide across the streets and halt just when you wanted it to, make impossible turns and let you caress the ground through thick gloves that have seen the wildest tricks and fastest getaways… it was all far too vivid. Too much for you to bring up while you were trying to work. Swallowing your spit, you shook your head slightly as Seonghwa commented that you were not responding to him.

“What do you want me to say?”

“What you are thinking about.”

“And what am I thinking about?” abandoning the Busa, you gave the body a wipe with towel and dropped it to the floor, raising yourself up you fell onto the spinny stool, and eyed Seonghwa right back, despising the smirk that was threatening to break out on his lips that were far to soft and lush for a damn outlaw.

“The bike. Your bike. You used to ride, didn’t you?”

“...Hm.”

“I can feel it. No need to pretend.” he had already formed his suspicions. In fact, he had put two and two together a long enough time ago. All he needed was a confirmation, a mention of that same bike that he had heard of, a name to a face that had haunted him for as long as he was leading the Blue Birds.

“Yeah. I did. Not anymore though.” your voice grew colder, dismissive as you turned to look out at the neon lights. A flicker caught your attention - the sign for the Japanese restaurant that opened and closed only when the owner wanted to was caught in a starlike sparkling, the fluctuating light making it seem as though the luminescence was alive. Alive. Curious choice of words.

“What was it?”

“It?”

“Let’s start with the bike.”

“Is this an interrogation?”

“Just curious, no biggie.”

Afraid of what you could say if you were to dive into elaborating your memories and sentimentality, you stood up and walked to the work bench, retrieving the component that you had brought with you to the city, and kept it with you at all times. Giving it one last look, you strode over to an expectant and enthusiastic Seonghwa, motioning for him to stretch out his hands. As you watched him inspect the item, turning it and checking each nook and cranny, your heart felt heavy. Was it really that long since the brake pedal was attached to the swift stunner? A glorious ink black, with piping of the skeleton completed in a vibrant poisonous green. A nightmare. Your love, your priceless dream.

“A Kawasaki?” he whispered half to himself. So it was how he had indeed attempted to predict.

“Kawasaki Ninja H2R.”

“Two hundred and twenty-eight kilowatts without ram-air?”

“I played around with that.”

“Sure you did. Wow. Really that’s pretty.”

“Mhm.” you took the brake pedal from Seonghwa’s hands, returning it back to the drawer. 

Suddenly, it all felt too real. The last moments raw, the feeling that the motorcycle was still with you, still outside, parked and patiently waiting for you, was too clear in your head that you had attempted to train to believe that that stage in your life was over. Done. Finished. You had crossed the metaphorical finish line and that was all there was to it. But Seonghwa was not letting up, instead choosing to dig into the wound and watch as blood began to trickle.

“Now that explains it.”

“What?” you knew you were going to regret asking, but did so still.

“The tattoo.”

“What tattoo?” your eyes narrowed as you propped yourself against the bench and crossed your arms.

“The one on your arm. The right one.” he pointed as if he just won a game of spot the difference, leaving you irritated.

“What of it? I have many.”

“Not one that belongs to the Black Pirates. I am no fool, Y/N. I’ve seen the mark before and truthfully, I am surprised you are still alive.”

“I am too.” you huffed, finding your boots to be awfully interesting.

“Sacrificed the bike?”

You did not answer. You did not want to answer because it was clear that Seonghwa could answer the question for you. And for that, you loathed him in that given moment, despite overall finding his company to be almost comforting in recent weeks. In reality, the Kawasaki saved you from utter demise. Sliding on its side across the highway at record speed, sparks flying in the air and the screeching penetrating through your helmet to embed itself into your bones, the bike made it seem as though you were truly done for when, as luck would have it, you had gotten away with only a few scratches and a lot of foliage clinging to the torn up leather you had worn. As you had made your leap off the out of control beauty, the hero fighting its last battle it collided with cement to split and crumble into smithereens, the fuel tank pierced and beginning to seep out the fluid. A couple of gunshots later, and the bike was caught aflame, and all you could see from the group below where you had fallen, was the occasional licks, smoke and more sparks, your soul departing the metal body. The brake pedal, by some odd circumstance, had flown off and landed in your direction, nearly crashing into your visor. You had cradled it in your hands, sliding down on your back further and further to the moist earth beneath the highway until you were totally concealed from all viewpoints, hidden by pillars and rusted armature. When you were sure that those who you had called family, called friends, called comrades sped away, confident that you were there splattered on the cement and roasting, thanks to the bag that had been left on the seats serving practically as a dummy, you had begun to weep, never knowing for what, but certain that you were not yourself anymore. You had died.

Unbeknownst to you, as your vision blurred and mist settled to accompany the rising melancholia, Seonghwa had risen from the armchair and cautiously stepped closer and closer to you, until he was barely an arm’s reach away. Gaze drifting, you only took notice of the change when the knuckles came into view. Those bruised, bloodied knuckles, obviously treated by a person who knew nothing about caring for themselves. Silly man. A silly, silly man who wanted to put up a front; a front that might just have been yours, and your family’s ruin.

“Hey, are you-”

“No.” you retorted before he could accentuate what you deemed to be your weakness. Pushing yourself off the bench you were about to make a beeline for somewhere, anywhere, make up and excuse, but felt a gentle hand wrap around your wrist. Shocked, you stilled yourself and attempted to tug, only feeling the grip getting stronger until Seonghwa pulled you towards him, so that you would be face to face.

“I-... I’m sorry. I know how much this hurts and-”

“Do you?” cold, you hissed.

“...I can see it. I am sorry for your loss. And I am sorry for making you relive it.”

A smile, ones that graced those who had little to lose and little to wish for except perhaps a restart as another person, in another body, in another time and life, melted over you as you tested the strength of Seonghwa’s hold another time. Not budging. You did not dare to check his expression, for you knew that it would make you crack. 

“Do you need any-”

“One more word and I will snap your arms in half.” recalling your first meeting, you muttered the empty threat.

“You are too kind.” he echoed, deliberating whether to give himself up to the urge and pull you closer. 

So it was you who he had heard about after all. The demon on the roads, Icarus who had gotten too close to the sun of power, and was violently shoved from the pedestal of grace and familial leadership into the torment, into the abyss, stripped of all you knew and had. He had learned about you through fable-like gossip that his childhood friend, who caught up with the wrong crowd and became a member of the Black Pirates had shared over a couple of drinks when Seonghwa had visited. Same night he had shared that he wanted to leave, but as it had turned out, he was someone not quite lucky to make an escape and someone who Seonghwa was meant to forget. But besides the passing of another, someone who he could not save even though he tried, never did he think that the beast on the Kawasaki would be you. The you that he had come to know. The sensitive, albeit snarky and strong-headed you. The you who was a gifted mechanic, a woman who breathed the craft, the art, the science, the life that was that of a biker. Never before did he see anyone treat the Busa with such respect, nor make such accurate guesses about the fights and chases that it had participated in. Looking back, it should have been obvious that you had a history. You knew more than you ever let on. Perhaps you knew Seonghwa like he knew the streets of Night City, and now, your true past.

“The… yeah the Hayabusa’s done. By the way.” you tried to veer the conversation away, and fortunately this time, Seonghwa agreed. 

“Thank you.”

“Standard rate.”

“Yep.”

“Everything is sort-”

“May I-”

You shot him an aggressive, piercing gaze, threatened by the change in tone. Far from his usual upbeat lilt, it was deeper, slower, sticky and sweet like molasses and you did not want to get pulled in. You clambered for air, for any relief away from his man, the man who had so openly shared his soul with you. He stammered and cleared his throat, finally letting go of your wrist. The sharp change in temperature was nearly unwelcome as the ghost of his soft fingers remained, caressing your flesh.

“Would you want to join a patrol now?” the inquiry, hanging in the air, dangling like a treat as the adrenaline rushed across your body. You had to feel guilty, surely, after having mourned the loss of your beloved Kawasaki and just revisited its final minutes, you had no right to be looking forward to another rush. You did not need it. You should not need it nor want it. And yet, you found yourself nodding almost immediately, much to Seonghwa’s delight. A reassuring warm hand on your upper arm, a lean forward letting Seonghwa catch your glossy eyes, him asking when you can close up shop and you mumbling that you were done for the day, or night. It was alway nighttime. The soothing blanket of navy blue, sleepy over the streets that you were about to explore under Seonghwa’s guidance. 

As the dark haired man settle on the bike and appeared to adjust his wristwatch, holding his helmet while you found a spare displayed on one of the shelves - showed marks of wear and tear but good enough for a couple rides more, he felt his heartbeat turn erratic, and what was normally a bearable thrum turn into an erratic, unbelievable pace that only amplified in his skull and quickened once your arms were wrapped around his torso, holding onto him, your body pressed against his. If there was ever a hazard on the road for him, it was this. Your intoxicating closeness that made him want to ride forever more, never stopping if that meant that you could stay exactly where you were. How you were. It was surreal that the rider, the legend that he had grown to respect from the tales, was the woman that he had now grown to love.

As he sped down the streets, the neon had shone down on you in different colours, a bolder, more optimistic palette that made you beam right back. You clutched onto Seonghwa’s leather jacket, seeking more support as the exhilaration began to overwhelm you. It had been far too long since the last time you felt the wind hit you in this way, you felt the engine rushing you on between the trees of the concrete jungle, the windows and doors, the stray passers-by zooming right past you as the bike accelerated. It was not the same, of course, nothing could ever be, but the feeling, that distant feeling and warm memory was enough to remind you that you indeed were alive and you had the future to look to. A future that Seonghwa wanted to help you find. Hugging him tighter, you let yourself be carried away from the shop you closed up, away from the pleasant routine you had aimed to settle into all the way towards a moment of freedom and that familiar rush.

When you arrived at the destination, which turned out to be an abandoned parking lot under an equally barren road, illuminated only by a single streetlight with two bulbs, you noticed that there were a few people already gathered, including some familiar faces who were chatting away while wheeling their rides out of what you would describe as some concealed warehouse into better starting positions. Feeling a wave of shyness, you did not move as Seonghwa stopped the bike and stretched his legs out to balance it. Only after you sense more movement, and approaching footsteps did your arms snake away on their own accord and tug at your helmet. The man seemed to sense this since, as soon as his own helmet was off, he turned to you to whisper a quick “you okay?”. You feebly nodded, and found the ground with your military-style boots. 

Quickly enough, a man approached Seonghwa, and the two exchanged a handshake and a couple of words. You recognised him fast enough - while he had not come to the shop nearly enough to be considered a regular, and judging from how heavily modded his MV Agusta Rush was it was clear that he preferred to do most, if not all repairs himself, Yeosang was a memorable figure. His hair, approaching shoulder length, and the long black and red leather jacket with cutouts that flowed behind him as he hit top speed made him stand out to you, and his endearing disposition and innate warmth as he discussed all matters within your comfort made him something of a friend. He waved to you, excited that you had decided to join the patrol, agreeing with Seonghwa that it was an honour to see you on the urban tracks. You bit your lower lip, wondering just how far word about you had travelled after your supposed passing, and whether this word would travel right back down to the south again after your impulsive appearance right here, among the Blue Birds.

“So you riding with us? Right?” Yeosang finally addressed you, his voice jolting you out of your musings. 

“I suppose so,” after giving Seonghwa one final look and receiving a reassuring smile, you responded.

“Great, then, follow me.” As Yeosang spun on his heel and led you towards the warehouse, you let yourself wonder out loud.

“Were you all waiting for me or something?”

“Well, yes and no. We’ve heard stories, then Mars has really taken to you and well, that comes with a lot of getting to know you, and then Yunho shared a couple things-”

“What in the-”

“Don’t be too surprised. We keep our tabs on everyone. Just in case.” he chuckled and elaborated on the miniature dossier that had accumulated - he was not going to rat out the fact that it was mainly his leader not realising that he was discussing you at longer time periods than was customary for a standard biker and mechanic relationship.

“Guess I’m a bit rusty in that department.” you pondered the networks, the informers that had existed back in your town, and how sometimes you even had to ‘do some less than appealing kinds of convincing’ to get updates, but shook the image away as you entered the dimly lit warehouse.

“Let’s hope you aren’t when it comes to riding.” You stood back, letting Yeosang turn on another lamp, something probably found in a trash pile but still functional enough to be a source of illumination, only to reveal a breath-taking beauty. 

“Now, of course it isn’t the Kawasaki,” Yeosang paused, patting the seat of the black and red motorcycle that you could sense was studying you, checking if you were strong enough to handle it, “but it is still quite impressive. Aprilia RSV4-”

“1100 Factory. Grunty engine, sweet chassis. Good engineering.”

“You can say that again. Here, give it a try.”

You stepped towards the breathing machine. The beast in slumber, awaiting a boost, a nudge awake and it was ready to roar and leave all those in this lot behind. It was a captivating system of mechanisms, all working in unison to create what was going to be a revival for you. A revival on the road. As you sat down on the bike, feeling its energy ooze through you and appreciating its almost youthful vigour, your mind traversed its maze-like avenues back to the Kawasaki. This was far from your precious. Far from who you had been. Far from the soul that you had lost back then. Gorgeous, without a doubt, an astounding piece of work that the streets would be grateful for gracing them, but that was how you had to treat it. As much as a part of you desired a renaissance, that same thrill, it was obviously unachievable. Nothing was the same, nor could be, including you. The place where the tattoo of the Black Pirates still decorated your skin ached with dull throbs as you leaned forward and tested your movements, your fluidity with the motorcycle. This was going to do; this had to do for that one last thrill before you could say goodbye to the dream of re-experience - the final nail in the coffin of a phantom that had you delusionally hoping for that sense of belonging and sense of being undefeatable to return to you. The Aprilia was the Aprilia, and you were you. The need for speed, the desire to rule the roads and exist in discord and chaos had died with the Kawasaki Ninja H2R, and the you now was searching for peace. The peace that you could read in Seonghwa’s eyes. The peace that he was offering in the form of unconditional support, in the form of pieces of his own soul to ignite the one you were patiently cultivating in your hollow chest. To let the blaze warm you, nurture the affection you yearned for, and let you breathe again. You gripped the handles of the bike, and turned on the ignition, casting a permission-seeking side glance to Yeosang, who merely nodded. As it rolled out of position and you flipped the foot that anchored it in balance, and let yourself be regarded by Seonghwa and his fellow bikers, the revelation finally came, that this was the new life that you had hoped for. The life that you had wanted to experience, not a reworking, but a clean slate. A new home that you hoped to discover in Night City.

Once everyone was in position, and Yeosang gave you a helmet that was fitted with a communication system that let the Blue Birds converse while on patrol, you followed Seonghwa out, having been given a designated position and role in the formation. It felt like the old times, but in reverse. Instead of organising havoc, the group was organising peace. Instead of planning heists, the group was hoping to stop crime that happened under the noses of those who purposefully disregarded it, focusing on new age delinquency that manifested itself as banal expression and creativity. The city was different now, it had to be. Suddenly, you were astounded and amazed by it, by the intricacies of every corner, the affection with which the citizens of the sector had decorated their storefronts and windows, even though if a government-arranged bust was to be organised, and the forces, nicknamed the Guardians were to march down these streets, these homes would be the first to be annihilated. Risking their own lives these marvellous people decided to spread joy and share colour. There was hope in Night City, there was hope in this district where the desire to live and thrive could not be put out. 

Blue, purple, magenta, pink, orange, yellow, red, green, purest white and inkiest black, every shade and every saturation was jumping out at you even through the visor. You felt at ease, one with your surroundings as Seonghwa’s soothing voice issued the final command before the group were to split, leaving you, Seonghwa and Yeosang alone and zooming down the central street, empty from the lack of business after a particularly nasty raid. You noted remnants of shattered glass and a charcoal black storefront, one of the downsides of living in an area where law was more questionable than local dealings. But even then, you felt more alive than before. 

“How are you feeling, Red?” a nickname thought of on the spot for ease of callouts thanks to the accents on the Aprilia.

“Good, Mars.”

“Good?” Yeosang echoed, and you could swear you heard an amused giggle from his mic.

“Very good, Greece,” you would never not be amused with the choice of name for your friend, the word ‘sculpture’, to highlight his heavenly visuals, had apparently been deemed too long to work.

Seonghwa could hear the joy in your voice, stronger than he had ever experienced it before, even when you joked around with him or revealed to him a particularly high quality part that Jongho had produced by some unmentionable connections. Previously, there had been barriers that you had accumulated with each season of your new existence, hardened by your trials and tribulations as a person who technically was not supposed to exist. Less talk, more business. Less emotion, more control over your behaviour, your being in the effort of maintaining an image of strength, much like he had done when he had first met you.

When Seonghwa had first laid eyes on you, you seemed to be the closest thing there was to a human version of ice. You appeared to be dismissive and disinterested in him, in what he could bring, and that was vexing. He, as Mars of the Blue Bird gang, had gotten used to have the room freeze as he walked in, only to combust into hot flames an instant after, but definitely not come face to face with someone who was sombre, and with their lack of a reaction made Seonghwa feel as though, in reality, he was not that important. He had made a promise to himself after finding out about the Kawasaki rider of the Black Pirates, that if there was anyone he would listen to and learn from, it would be them. From the technique to the daredevil spirit, that was the kind of rider he had always wanted to be. At the same time, as days turned to weeks turned to months, and the image of you and the rider became one in his mind, Seonghwa came to understand that truly, the rider was an illusion. A fantasy that he had built in his mind that could not compare to the wise woman that had transformed his Hayabusa, and his own heart. He wanted to learn you, and learn anything else with you. And to hear the spark within you, to feel your passion for finding yourself begin to return to you was the final sign that he needed to fully comprehend what he had been searching for. For that smile to never leave your face, for him to bring you food just because, for you to be side by side in this race against harsh reality, fighting the odds and making it through to a land where there was true light, away from the land of neon farce.

As you sped down the neverending roads, checking each turn and alleyway for activity, an odd trepidation crept into your chest, and fluttered like a moth fighting for its spot on a bulb. The same feeling as when you had been out with your so-called crew, checking the outskirts of your hometown that fateful night. Your inner alarm rolled out of a restless sleep, and began to clang against your brain, once, twice more and more until it became unbearable and you cried out for the group to stop. The unexpected call startled the duo, and they barely had time to process the action as the three of you instinctively skid to a halt, leaving hot trailmarks on the road. A hum. An unsettling hum that came before a certain ruin spread across your surroundings, and you took off your helmet to tune into it in an attempt to decipher anything at all. Seonghwa and Yeosang followed suit, perplexed, contemplating you as you darted from one side to the other turning your head and getting a grasp of what could be the source of the thrum. A revving. A sickening revving in the far distance, picked up by you as you whispered to your team.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what?” Yeosang asked back, running a hand through his hair.

“The hum.”

“Hum?”

“Where are we right now?”

“Southernmost district, kind of outside of Night City, but still our area.” Seonghwa responded promptly, alerted by your concern.

“We need to leave.”

“But the patrol-” Yeosang tried to argue, but you cut him off.

“Now. We need to leave now.”

“Why?”

The engines became even louder, and if you were not going to move now, you would never move again. 

“Surveillance Point South, Guardians Helmets on, MOVE!” you commanded, disregarding any hint of formality as you shoved the helmet back onto your head and twisted the bike to go back. The men followed suit, and in good time, as in one of your mirrors, you saw the first flash of white appear from around the corner.

“GO!”

Bless technology, bless the engineers who crafted these magnificent motorcycles; you were praying and praising every person who had ever contributed to the creation of these beauties, these roaring urban animals as you accelerated to top speed in seconds and swerved down a random street, one that you had no clue where it led to. Calming yourself to the level where you were able to ask a question, you hurriedly shouted into the mic:

“Mars!”

“Turn right at the end, Greece flanks on the left.”

“Gotcha chief.”

“Update on tail?” You continued as the initial wave of automatic movements subsided, and in came the need for fast, adaptive strategy. You were not about to make the same mistakes again. This could not happen. You had to trust yourself, trust Seonghwa and Yeosang. They should not suffer the same way you had done. Ever.

“Five Guardians. Gear - standard. They were not expecting us.” Yeosang communicated back, pressing himself into the motorcycle as the three of you sped down the street only to burst into another and swerve to the appointed direction.

“Well that’s a plus,” you huffed and accelerated more after completing the dangerously sharp turn. The Guardians were quick to repeat the motion, and were aggressively catching up to your trio.

“There’s a highway under construction, we can lose them there.” Seonghwa offered, clearly disturbed by the closeness of the forces, practically breathing down his neck.

“How far?”

“How fast can you go?”

“Lead.” a quick ‘yes’ in agreement, and Seonghwa issued an order:

“Greece, split on the fork and find Crow. If you get a tail then spiral the shit out of them.”

“Aye.”

“Good luck.” With one last wish, serving as a hopefully temporary farewell, Yeosang rolled away his own response blending into static as the connection grew weaker, only to fully break:

“Good lu-”

And just like that, it was you, Seonghwa, and four remaining Guardians, who evidently had decided that Yeosang was not their main target, leaving only one to tail him. You cursed under your breath, and clearly the mic was a lot more sensitive than you had initially expected, because as soon as the utterance left your mouth Seonghwa’s voice reverberated against your eardrums.

“Just a bit more, okay? Trust me we’ll get there-”

A gunshot stops the man mid-sentence, and you blindly followed him as he countersteered to make another sharp turn into a much more narrow street, forcing the group of four to slow down considerably and giving you an extra few valuable seconds. 

“Are guns part of standard gear?” Shocked by the similarity between the gang you had been part of and your present followers, you managed to ask.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

“Well isn’t this a fun time.”

“Glad you are enjoying it. Turn in five then turn left.”

Before you knew it, you were entering the meandering manoeuvre from street to alley to a series of pedestrian passageways, fully expecting Seonghwa to still be by your side, but as you entered another road, zooming ahead, you took note that your partner was nowhere to be seen, along with another two Guardians. The ones behind you, thanks to the maze of stairs and tight spots down the path he had directed you through, the Guardians were trailing behind, the distance having grown to a more secure one, at least until you felt the bike, which you were not totally used to, hit a pothole on the road and start to wobble, forcing you to overreact - counterintuitive to any professional behaviour. Your yelps finally made Seonghwa return through the speakers asking as to what exactly happened. To the best of your ability you choked out the cause of your surprise, while loosening your grip and regaining at least some control by slowly rolling off the throttle.

“I leave you for one second and that happens?”

“Last time I was alone and being chased I-”

“Did not have me, to your left-” As you had balanced yourself out and returned to breaking any speed limit imaginable, you noted the familiar black and orange Hayabusa merge into the lane to your left, followed by one Guardian.

“Where is their friend?”

“Took an arrow to the knee,” out of the corner of your visor’s allowable view, you saw Seonghwa accelerate until he was a little in the front and he waved what could only be a particularly menacing pistol.

“That is one hell of a bow.” You pondered when and where  he could have produced a gun from, and finally realised why most of the time he kept his jacket zipped up unless he was off vigilante duty.

As you approached the winding highways-to-be, you swore you were barely breathing. With only three Guardians remaining on your tail it should be easier, an escape should feel closer, but you could not settle into any form of focus, instead only speeding towards an oblivion. Another one, your final one. The fear that you had been living with, the repetition that you had wrongfully longed for, was it about to happen? You fell quiet as you saw the road curve higher and higher to another level, and followed its flow. Seonghwa let you flow forwards, turning back to return the gunfire that the white-clad spawns of the so-called law restarted, missing one by a few centimetres, but in this way forcing them to enter the same state from which you recovered. Luckily, they did not have as reflexive of a control over the vehicle, and toppled to veer and hit one of the borders, denting it and giving up the chase. Two to go.

Entranced by the openness of the location, you raised your head to find a night sky, clearer than the one you were used to back in Night City. It was similar to the countryside around your hometown, how the stars came around to glint and help you recollect your thoughts by emphasising that everything on this earth, compared to the infinite expanse of the universe, was small enough to brush off. It had always made you feel briefly light, relieved, free. How you wished you could fly-

“Ready to fly?”

“Literally?” you cried out, returning back to the matter at hand.

“I sure hope you remember how to recover from a high jump on a bike because that is our only chance.”

“What the-”

“Three.”

“Two.

“One.”

“May the suspension system be ever in our favour,” you muttered, embracing the oncoming drop as you avoided the cones that marked the end of the construction zone and led into a drop onto the highway below.

Your mind cleared, and you focused on the head level balance point in front of you, which just so happened to be the straight line of the horizon. Your body moved back to ease the weight on the front end, and as you saw the drop come into view, raised yourself up on the foot pegs and pushed with all your might, bending your legs into the motion as you felt the suspension respond to you and compress before rising again. Instantaneously, you blipped the throttle, giving the Aprilia that final burst, propelling you and lifting you right when the front wheel hit the jumping point you had marked out. Keeping your head up, you let yourself feel the arc that you made together with the bike, eagerly watched your surroundings blur as you continued your calculated fall, and giggled as you heard Seonghwa let out a loud proclamation of “awesome!” as you landed the jump and remained fully in control of the temperamental steed. 

The Guardians had stopped themselves before the leap, clearly not having the borderline death-seeking move programmed into their ridiculous training schemes, nor into their own obedient, law-abiding cells. With the southernmost district, and as such, the Guardian patrol point long behind you, it was now a matter of finding a place to slow down and figure out a safe way home. You laughed airily as the adrenaline egged you on, making you feel like you could take on the entire world, your gang of traitors and snakes, and the masked tyrants that had been chasing you and all that you considered valuable in your new chapter. You survived. Finally, you survived. 

When the empty highway hinted at an exit on the other side, in unspoken agreement the two of you hopped the inexistent border between lanes and swerved into the turn, re-entering the city from a different angle, fully avoiding the southern district. As neon began to occupy your vision once more, the lines of blue, purple, magenta starting to line the streets of your home, you let out a sigh of relief, coming down from the rush of a good chase. As soon as the two of you ensured that there was no hint of Guardians in your vicinity, Seonghwa signalled for you to slow down and stop in a secluded square that was located between the outstretched segments of an abandoned residential block, the doors taped shut with signs proclaiming ‘demolition’ plastered over fading graffiti. 

Hopping off his bike and leaving the helmet and gloves on the seat, he rushed to help you out, the exhaustion from diving headfirst into something that had not been in your active arsenal for a while. Wobbly legs, dizziness and an urge to listen to gravity for once nearly had you stumbling off the bike and onto the cracked pavement, if not for the strong arms, stabilising you by positioning themselves at your waist, and bringing you flush against Seonghwa’s toned body. Through the haze of a numbing fatigue, you could finally make out the slightest tang of gun smoke, blending with an aroma of a sweet perfume, pronounced as he had burned up from the prolonged pressure and thrill. Smoke and vanilla. And you were alive to take it all in. You raised your arms, searching for him, trying to feel out an anchor in the renaissance, clamber out of the ashes that were still coating you in a weight of a past that you had now shed. Fingers flittering across the black tank top, left exposed as he had unzipped the jacket, travelled around his sides to find his lower back and hook themselves together. You let yourself be consumed by the feeling of safety, the feeling of having overcome yourself and finding someone, the one person who was ready to pick you up again. Your body shook as a sob that you were unknowingly holding back flew from your now light heart and into the omniscient night, but all you could feel was warmth. A reliable embrace that was going nowhere, a man who knew who you were, who you had been, and let you decide for yourself who you wanted to become-

“Mars-” you mumbled, pressing your face into Seonghwa in an attempt to let the fabric swallow your emotion.

“-Seonghwa.”

“Huh?” you wanted to look at him, at his dark eyes that held the sky, the universe within them, but the soothing circles that he was drawing on your back as he began to rock gently while keeping you in his arms made you remain in the same position, right against him. With him.

“Seonghwa. Hwa. Whatever nickname you think of but… just. Seonghwa, Y/N. Call me Seonghwa.” you chuckled through the tears that started to decorate your cheeks, earning a confused hum from the biker.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Cheeky.”

“At least we are not threatening each other with grievous bodily harm anymore.” you tried to squeeze him in a way to emphasise your joke, but earned a surprised pained yelp from the man, followed by a pursing of the lips as you darted to face him. 

“Seonghwa?” it was obvious that the new address made him soften considerably, but your worry did not subside. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s nothing really, regular st-”

“Where, Seonghwa, where?” you used his own name against him, forgetting your own overwhelmed state and turning your attention to him.

He was entranced by the way your eyes glistened in the darkness, how the tears that stained your cheeks were only adding to your image. Nothing would make him look differently at you. Nothing ever. And if he had to race against time itself to be able to hold onto you like this, he would do it. He would fight all of the Guardians and Black Pirates combined if it meant that you could smile. You needed to smile. He tried to ease the concern, but the wound that he had acquired during the chase was becoming nearly unbearable. Instead of fighting you, he tilted his head to his left and lifted his arm while keeping the other on your waist. Getting the hint, you flipped the bottom of the cropped jacket and gasped as you saw torn material, reddened, irritated skin, and a mixture of coagulated and still-trickling blood concentrated around where what could only be a bullet grazed Seonghwa’s stunning, tanned skin. 

“What the- and you are just here? Standing? You need treatment, stat!” admonishing his self-disregard, you leaned to inspect the wound more closely, only to have Seonghwa attempt to flip the jacket back and dig his fingers into your side.

“I am fine, I swear-”

“Do you know anyone who can fix this?” not quite in the know of any medical terms, you resorted to treating the wound as though it was a damaged component, except a lot more distressing, and obviously causing a lot more lateral harm than any scratch or even piercing tear could to cold metal. 

“...Not really, no,” after a long pause, he responded. Lowering his arm, Seonghwa returned to his previous hold, except this time, moving until his face was only centimetres away from yours.

“Well then, you know me, I have a first aid kit at my cave.” your voice quivered as you at the man before you. You could tell, he was new too, also reborn from the chaos. Neither of you could predict, but it was obvious that now, that light that you had been chasing was within reach.

“So you can fix bikes and people?”

“Bikes, yes. People? Not really. But I would like for you to see another day please.

“It really isn’t that bad.”

“Then why are you in pain?”

“Because I have been staring at your lips for the past minute and still have not kissed you.”

You blinked once, twice as whatever words were in your throat remained there and fell right back down to be set on fire by what you could only describe as the blowing of multiple fuses. You were not quite sure when the two of you managed to lean so impossibly close to one another, but your arms were fully relaxed, having succumbed to the sensation of his hands dancing across your hips testing the waters, and your vision was occupied by Seonghwa, and Seonghwa alone. His gaze, once again, trailed down from your eyes down to your lips, slow, confident alluring. Ignoring whatever pain he was experiencing, dulling it with a different, more tantalising ache. With your breathing growing more shallow by the second, you were not sure what to expect of Seonghwa in this instant; perhaps more accurately, you were terrified of how this would change your new life. He was taking his time as though he was reading a book, trying to decipher what you were feeling, and while he was more than ready to lean in an destroy what was left of the gap between you, your swift hands that wiped what remained of the moisture on your cheeks and a playful smirk on your lips forced him into a childish pout.

“And you won’t, unless you let me patch you up.”

“And I can kiss you after?”

“...Deal.” to hell with it all, you continued soundlessly.

As rapidly as the moment had developed, it ceased to persist, with Seonghwa detangling himself from you and telling you to grab your helmet while pressing a couple of buttons that were concealed on his wristwatch.

“What about the bike?”

“Yeo will sort out the bike. I just pinged him with the coordinates.”

“You have a spy watch?” amazed, you exclaimed.

“Nifty, huh? Blue Bird exclusive.”

“I need to speak to the engineers in your circle, I need to absorb some skills from them.”

“I can see you’ll be speaking to Yeo more and more soon, then. He is quite the techy guy.”

As you were about to hop onto the bike, you thought once more about the injury, and tapped the already seated Seonghwa on the shoulder. Flipping open his visor, the man moved his chin forward, prompting you to go on.

“Scooch back.”

“But I can-”

“No buts. You are injured, and this is a hazard,” receiving a groan in response, you refused to pause, “besides, I can’t exactly hold on to you now, can I?” 

That seemed to do the trick as the previously proud, arrogant man obeyed your command and slid away from the handlebar, but as soon as you were in position, revealed that potentially, it was not you winning here as he relished in the opportunity to embrace you for the entire trip back to OC, occasionally distracting you by letting his hands roam your torso, leaving you dangerously close to pulling over. But you had enough experience of being stoic, and Seonghwa still had much to learn about you, so you kept a steady speed, and greeted the luminescence of your neighbourhood with a relaxed rumble of the Hayabusa.

-

As you turned on the lights to your studio apartment and the two of you took off your shoes, you sped away to find the green case of health and all things that you were technically not supposed to have in your possession but did anyways. Funnily enough, Seonghwa’s comment had not been too far from the truth; back when you had been in the Black Pirates, a mechanic was fully expected to patch the customers up, as well as the bike, considering that both were normally against the law and had to remain undercover. Even when in certain districts the gang did bribe their way up to have a hand in decision-making, thus making it possible for the members to receive regular treatment, many had gotten used to the quick and easy drive-by healings, and would always choose to trust the person who gave life to their motorcycles over even the most qualified, certified doctor. Such was the rhythm that you had fallen into, the one that transitioned into the you in Night City through a library of skills and odd habits - like keeping the first aid kit right below the sink, the logic being that one could grab the kit, wash their hands and be ready for war, equipped with antiseptic and a plethora of improvisation techniques made up on the spot. 

With Seonghwa settled on one of the foldable chairs that you kept to the side for when you wanted to sit while eating instead of leaning over the kitchen counter, you took the other, placed it right in front of the tired man and got to work. Carefully guiding his arms out of the leather jacket, you were left with a far too attractive biker, clad in only a black tank top and the ridiculously expensive chains, and the leather trousers that tightened around his legs as he wriggled a little and took a more comfortable position to sit. The earring with the feather right at the end still dangled in his ear, and his hair, ruffled but retaining some shape thanks to what you thought to be humble use of a styling gel. You needed to avoid his eyes at all costs, the burning eyes that were trained on you, and only you. It did not take an expert to guess what Seonghwa was replaying in his mind the entire time that you were around him. As you lifted the tank top and inspected what was now a dried up mass over a graze, you sighed with relief.

“Good news.”

“Good?” Seonghwa asked back, suspiciously out of breath.

“Yeah. Now, I can’t check for internal bleeding, but outwardly, this is easy enough. Seems that you got really lucky. Very. Over the top kind of lucky actually. Can’t say the same for the jacket though, but at least you are not a wine barrel.”

“Charming.”

“I’ll just clean the thing and put a big bandage on it so that it won’t get infected. I fear that most of the pain is from these old injuries though…” you absent-mindedly traced some of the hematomas, which, judging by their colouration, were well on their way to dissolving into a smoothness, with your fingertips, making the man tense up. He turned his head towards you, glancing back and forth as you inspected the collage of injuries that he had collected on his body.

“We’re fighters though, aren’t we.”

“Fighters need holidays too.”

“Right.”

“You need to park yourself in a garage and give your engine a nice break…” you joked, more to yourself as you turned to bring the green case to your lap for easier searching, keeping one hand in place to hold the cotton top up, until the finger grew tired, “hey could you be a darling and hold your own shirt for me? Cheers.”

Seonghwa jumped into action, enjoying the soft speech, and replaced your hand with his, the digits ever so slightly brushing against one another as he moved to hold onto the material.

“You are in luck.”

“Is that so? Even more than over the top?” ignoring his interjection, you continued:

“Uh-huh. I have hydrocolloid bandages left. This one’s actually barely noticeable, but works like a charm with weeping wounds so, get your flesh over here and you’ll be patched up in no time.” turning, he repositioned himself to allow you to clean the cut, removing some of the attached fabric that had dried with the first droplets, and leaving the redness exposed to the disinfectants, and to the patch. In no time at all, your work was done. Satisfied, you grabbed a tissue out of the packet that was sitting in the kit and cleaned the ointment and adhesive that stuck to you.

“I’m afraid I can’t help with the clothes though. Not my area of expertise.”

“You did more than enough, Y/N. And all this after racing through and out of Night City from five Guardians on a totally new bike.”

“I am a woman of many talents.”

“That’s true…” that honey-sweet, deep voice, slowing into a sultry beckoning as Seonghwa’s hand moved to rest on your knee. A man on a mission after all. You chuckled and snapped the first aid kit shut, easily sauntering from his approaches and enjoying every minute. 

“You want hot chocolate?” you asked over your shoulder as you stashed the case back under the sink and shut the cupboard. Nothing was stopping you from being a good host to a very good person. Even though it was rather apparent that Seonghwa was eyeing something else on the menu, the sound of a sweet treat was rather appealing. You were right about him faking drinking coffee after all.

“Yes please.”

As you moved about the kitchen, fetching the cylindrical jar of chocolate powder and getting the coffee machine started for your own beverage of choice, Seonghwa moved to reposition the chairs closer to a table that bore the appearance of an ironing board squashed against the wall until he pulled it down and pushed the two legs at the free end out. Patiently, he admired your studio apartment, your corner of the city that was situated right above the shop. The walls were bare, only decorated with old holes from nails and with the odd scratch here and there. Minimal furniture, with the large dresser probably being donated to you by Yunho. The neatly made bed which judging by the headboard and armrests was also a small sofa, located right beside the window that was covered by wooden blinds roughly painted an off-white, was probably the newest addition to the metres of this room. Undoubtedly, the piece of furniture was acquired after you had moved here, after you had made your bosses certain that you were here to stay. And Seonghwa was going to make sure of it. Night City was now to be your new home, and when you tapped the table to alert him of the hot beverage that you had prepared, now ready and billowing steam out of the mug right in front of him, he revered how beautiful you looked, surrounded by the mechanic shop, by the streets of the district, by the city that he had despised for so long but the one that had helped him find you through mysterious serendipity.

"Thank you." he took a cautious sip, sighing in elation.

"No problem. I'll pretend that chocolate helps with internal bruising and call myself a doctor." You commented while settling beside the vigilante, making him smile.

“How’d you guess I would not want coffee?” you glanced over at your companion while taking a tentative sip once the initial temperature shock had subsided.

“You never order it.”

“But I never-”

“I think we have spent enough time together to know the basics, right?” A bolder swig, and you could feel the caffeine begin to hit your system like a nitro boost.

“Well I seem to be discovering more and more things about you every second, Y/N.”

“And how are you finding it?” you took the quietness as a chance to test him. It was barely a test, but nevertheless, too important to dismiss. The small questions, ones said in passing and ones to be forgotten were almost always the ones that were to be the most important.

“I want to learn more and more, since I simply cannot get enough.”

Momentarily bashful, you looked at the floor and thought of the garage beneath your feet. The place where you had initially determined that this same man who was now unbelievably bold in his expression of his feelings for you was to be your sworn enemy. How times changed, for the better. Regardless of the twists and turns, the ups and downs, even in the deepest night there was a light to find, and a light that was meant to be yours. This new life was your light, and Seonghwa wanted to be part of it. You grinned at the thought, and finally met Seonghwa’s smouldering gaze, fuelled by care, by determination, by the vision of a future.

“You know, I think I thought of a nickname for you, Seonghwa.”

“Oh?” he set down his mug, mirroring you.

“Yeah. I think I’ll call you mine.” you stood up, knowingly ambling to the light switch, listening to the biker following suit.

“Watch out, I might just marry you on the spot if you keep that up.”

“Well, I am not your bride but you may kiss me.”

“Y/N, you are too addictive, and will make me lose my mind.”

“Well then, are you mine?”

“In every lifetime I am yours.”

Enveloped in a new night, illuminated only by the colours that seeped through the half open blinds you ceased to think and rationalise, giving yourself up to instinct as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, twisting you from the wall, coaxing you closer to him, towards his warmth, his heart right there for you to take. It was easy to oblige and you pinched the material of his tank top, prompting him to step even closer, sure that he was practically beaming into the kiss as he nudged himself forward, lifting your head up just a little to prolong the contact. It was as though he was certain that if you were to break apart from one another, you would disappear. He wanted more, needed more. Digits tracing abstract shapes on your back, running through your hair, Seonghwa wanted to remember every detail. Just as he had said, he wanted to learn every part of you.

Lost in paradise, the kiss was electric. A hand that found itself toying with his chains, and proceeding to snake up the back of his neck to tug on his hair just enough to make him shakily exhale made Seonghwa switch his gears. A previous tentativeness, a tender exploration turned into an urgency as his tongue flicked against your lower lip begging for entrance, which you were more than eager to give. You sighed into the passionate call for more that left you breathless. And yet, in these seconds turned into an unprecedented timelessness, if you had to give up every life-saving molecule for even a fraction of nearly impossible unity, you would do it in a heartbeat. The sensation was as though you had finally woken up from a deep slumber, dragged from the somnolent abyss, and every vibration in the air was resonating with you, resonating with Seonghwa. 

You felt drunk, dizzy as you guided Seonghwa to the bed, having very quickly memorised the layout of your tiny apartment to the point where you could move around even if there was not a single source of light. In a passionate blur your top was left by the chairs, while your trousers found their place right in front of the bed, together with Seonghwa’s tank top. With every flame that crossed between you, you laid yourself bare to one another, honest and open, and the vulnerability, intimacy you let yourself indulge in marked another beginning. As your nude bodies laid down onto the dark grey sheets, the both of you fervent for more but aware of the importance of honouring every step, Seonghwa suggested, feeling his side remind him of his injury:

“I think you’re going to have to take the lead here, Y/N, I’m a little bruised up.”

“Of course,” you leaned in for another kiss, smiling at the sweetness, “You ready?”

“More than.”

Seonghwa leaned against the pillows and headboard, devoured by lust as you moved further and further down until you reached his exposed member, leaking precum, hard, pleading for you to give it at least some attention. Testing the waters, you languidly rubbed the tip with your thumb in circles coating it in the translucent liquid and making Seonghwa breathe as though there was not enough oxygen. One glance back and you were in awe of the beauty before you. Eyes shut, reddened lips slightly parted, head tilted back as if he was caught in a divine act. The light from the street outside made him look all the more ethereal, and his skin, now an indescribably stunning collage of hues that had crept through the blinds, was a masterpiece that you wanted to honour with your love. As your teasing progressed into a gentle pumping, first of the tip and then with your hand sliding down the entire length, only to stop and give extra care to the base of the member, a low groan reached you - a melody that only encouraged you. Heat pooled to your core as you continued to elicit a string of indecipherable mumbles, a deep moan, and the most magnificent expressions from the man who had never thought you would even cross paths with again. How foolish you had been, masking Seonghwa’s stunning presence, response to your every action, and his eagerness to please you by whispering praises for how good you were making him feel, how amazing you looked and were, and how he was so grateful. Your prior ignorance was almost impossible to even consider now, as you let spit drip down from your mouth onto his dick, adding more lubrication and letting you increase the speed. The wanton sounds of your hand pumping Seonghwa’s throbbing cock, blended with the breaths turning shallow, any moan coming out airy, barely there, were filling you with your own desire, and your free hand quickly moved between your legs, fingers gliding along the folds, finding them to be slick, soaking, needy. You began to run your digits over your now wet clit, rolling over the nub painfully slow in a weak attempt to prevent yourself from cumming too soon, but what used to be a hint of a high only accelerated to a knot at the bottom of your stomach, pulsating and begging for fullness. With how Seonghwa’s hips began to buck up, oblivious to the bruises, the wounds that ghosted and adorned his body, you needed him.

“Hwa…”

“Mmh- yes?”

“May I… ride you?” Through phrases broken up by your choice to quicken the pace of your hand, abusing your clit until a trembling sensation spread over your legs in anticipation of an orgasm, you voiced your desire.

“Please- Y/N I- yes-” equally as shattered, Seonghwa was barely able to respond, moaning as you gave him a chance to recover ever so slightly, letting his member spring free, but more desperate than before for stimulation.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Back pocket, trousers, wallet.” he sighed, pointing at the discarded article at the foot of the bed.

“How’d you even get it in this Sector?” you asked, fishing the item out of his wallet, tearing the packaging and crawling back to unroll it.

“Con… tra… band,” he enunciated through your swift actions, biting his lower lip as he felt your heat press against him, your hand guiding the cock between your folds as you rocked back and forth.

“Vigilantes indeed. Protecting in all kinds of ways.”

“Are you kidding me?” Seonghwa groaned at the sorry attempt of a joke, his mind conflicted between the humour and the unbearable closeness of your pussy, lined up against his tip.

“I’m not the one smuggling condoms, though I have nothing to say but thank you, darling.”

Lowering yourself onto the member, bit by bit until he bottomed out inside you, you leaned forward, consumed by the euphoric feeling. Seonghwa took this as a chance to caress the side of your face, draw a line against your jaw and lead you towards him with soft fingers under your chin. Placing one kiss, another on your lips, and peppering your cheeks and nose with loving pecks, he encouraged you. He wanted to ensure that you felt loved, and only loved. When you began to move, hands finding the headboard for better balance and as a security measure so that you would not hurt Seonghwa, his gaze stayed on your face, bearing witness to the single most gorgeous view of his mortality. 

He gave himself up to you, something that he would have never imagined, but something that felt so right that he was terrified of thinking how his life would be had he never met you. Seonghwa let you control the pace, and when your walls tightened around his dick with your climax fast-approaching, did nothing to stop you, deny you of the ecstasy, much to his own fortune, for the cries of his name as you reached your high and rode it out, leading him to his own heavenly demise were now permanently etched into his brain. Never before did anything of his sound so captivating. Never before did he think that he could see a light in this dark city, in his dark path. But there she was, an angel in his arms, falling forwards, a barely noticeable shake still over taking her as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your lustful fever accentuated by the coolness of the metal necklaces. Seonghwa kissed your cheek once again, then your forehead and the crown of your head, thanking you, adoring you, and as the minutes ticked past, finding his footing in the post-coital bliss, and nudging for you to clean up with him, so the oasis you had created in your four walls could last longer, and you could drift into the sunniest dreams in each other’s embrace.

As you laid in Seonghwa’s arms, flushed from the shower and changed into an oversized t-shirt, his leg lazily thrown over yours and breath tickling your exposed skin, you felt even more alive. As he pulled you closer to him, and with the hand that was fully on the other side of you reached out to rest his palm on the back of yours, and let your fingers intertwine, you let yourself fall into a serenity that you had never known, and listened to his heartbeat through the tee you had given him, a rhythm that you never wanted to forget, a soul that helped yours truly come back from a place of no return. Seonghwa traced the tattoos on your skin, whispering about their marvel, their story, pointing out his favourites, the details that put every piece together into one flowing design. He repeated, again and again, his adoration for you, kissing your earlobe only to say it once more, accompanied by his favourite sound: the syllables that made up your name. In rare moments like this, everything felt easy, within reach. In this time and space that existed after a revival, a self-discovery and a promise of a new beginning, you were ready to take the scenic route.

“Hwa, could you pass me the C-spanner?”

“Ah, the mechanic’s scythe, sure thing.” you rolled your eyes and grinned, accepting the tool from Seonghwa’s outstretched hand. You were working on a swanky new Yamaha that had been added to the general Blue Bird collection after a certain Aprilia had been turned into scraps in the name of security. Not that you knew anything though - after all that was not you, and you did not exist at all in the databases of the Guardians, having flown under the radar thanks to some quick camera wipes, and security checks around Night City. Your new beginning was greeting you with open arms.

As you adjusted the pre-load on the rear shock absorbers, Seonghwa noticed something that reminded him of cling film peeking out from under your sleeve and letting his curiosity get the better of him, inched towards you, around the bike and giving you barely a second to register his intentions, poked at the plastic.

“What’s that, love?”

“A little upgrade.” you smiled to yourself and continued to make adjustments to the energetic beast.

“A tattoo?” he inquired, taking the c-spanner from your hand and laying it down on the ground. You spun on your old stool to face him.

“Mhm…”

“Show me?”

“I don’t know… probably won’t be clear enough through the film and I don’t want to ruin it so…”

“C’mon Y/N, weren’t you gushing about it to me just yesterday? How Seonghwa would adore it and-”

“Don’t sell me out, bossman.” you retorted, faking a glare at Yunho who was in the depths of a discussion about component orders with Jongho and evidently, was getting more and more bored.

“And focus on the papers, Yunho.” the latter rapid-fired after you, making Yunho groan and shift his attention away.

“So?” Seonghwa nudged your foot with his, shoving his hands in his pockets. Clearly, whatever tailor he knew in this city was a magic person, because even months after the turning point in your identity, a switch in time that let you open your eyes to a beautiful new world, the beloved biker pseudo-uniform in black and orange hues was pristine, seamless, bearing no signs of any gunshots, nor of any tears nor grazes.

You stood up, and cautiously rolled up your sleeve to reveal a transparent bandage that covered your fresh ink. Another restart, another call for a new step in the form of a single blue feather, with a stunning gradient and black detailing. As Seonghwa peered at the design, open-mouthed and silent before nearly squeezing the air out of you as he hugged you as tightly as he possibly could and spun you around, you blinked away the last of your doubts that had been stuck to you from before the fateful arrival to Night City. In the most unexpected places, surrounded by the most unexpected people, time was finally on your side, and let you slowly but surely take steps towards the you that you were happy being. The you that was loved and could love. The you that turned a fresh new leaf, and was more alive than ever.

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[seichira]

even when i’m hard to love.

you can argue that one of the most painful kinds of love there is, is the kind that refuses to be received. loving sanzu haruchiyo has taught you what it is like to adore someone who doesn’t think he deserves the good things in the world.

pairing : haruchiyo sanzu x reader

content : angst with comfort. mutual pining. the usual gang shenanigans. mentions of violence. inappropriate language.

growing up, you were so sure that your life would go according to plan. you will go to school and study hard, get in a prestigious university, graduate with latin honors, get a stable career, meet someone whom you will settle down with, and probably have a family if the tides ever say it’s right.

in hindsight, it was a good plan. it was commendable, and it was understandable how strict they were considering how young you were back when you mapped them all out. it really was a good plan, and you couldn’t have known that not everything would go your way.

sure, things went well for the first few steps. you got good grades and outstanding extracurriculars enough that got you into a university, albeit not your first choice (c’mon, life isn’t that kind). so far, you are still in the running for honors and the connections and experience you have accumulated basically quite assures that you’d have a decent job once you graduate.

but your luck stops there, because you fell in love with sanzu haruchiyo who can’t seem to accept it.

he does to you all the things that a lover would do for their loved one, but he never admits it. he would tip his feet to test the waters but never fully dive in.

you know deep down that he feels the same way, but years into this frenzied relation with him, you’re not so sure anymore. more often than not, you spend your nights soaking your pillows with your tears of unrequited love only to dry them off the next morning. loving haruchiyo has pushed you to do the unimaginable, to modify your plans into something where he would fit—but that is much too difficult.

he is uncontainable. the man you are so ready to give your heart and soul to is so near, but so damn unreachable. you can’t grasp him, you can’t keep him all to yourself because he is running like sand away from your tightened fingers.

you have had to scratch off your dreams of settling down and building a family because the man you’re in love with is… a blur. haruchiyo is a blur.

“what have you been doing, haru?” you ask as you approach the front steps of your dorm’s building, where sanzu was sitting on one of the steps with his head hung low, only looking up at the sound of your familiar footsteps and your voice.

“what do you mean?”

“i mean…” worriedly, you walk nearer and kneel down to level with his face and expect the cuts on it.

your face contorts into your usual expression of worry, and he hates it. he wants to flip a table and break anything on sight just for you to stop doing that expression on him.

“quit it, y/n.” he turns his face away, but you grip his chin gently and he wasn’t necessarily protesting so it was easy to keep him in place for more inspection.

“where did you get these wounds and bruises from, huh? i thought you were at home. did you get yourself into trouble again? do they hurt, haru?”

he glares at you, defensive now that you pointed out his face. he thinks he was stupid to hope that you won’t notice them or make a big deal out of them.

“just got into some stupid fight with frat boys who think they’re the shit. they’re not. you should see how they look. all black-eyed, passed out and shit.”

“them having it worse than you doesn’t make it any better.” you shake your head in disapproval, but you know better than to tell him off for doing what makes him feel alive. for now, you focus on patching him up.

he grins unseriously, “it makes it better.”

you choose to zip your mouth and no longer try to contest him to lessen the risk of having him run away again. “alright, then. i ran out of cotton swabs and antiseptics so i have to bring you to the clinic.”

the way he shoves your hand away from him does not even hurt you physically. the pain shot straight all the way to your chest where you felt it all. the pain of the rejection from him, and him alone.

“h-haru, i…” your voice trembles but you try to keep it all together. “i have to bring you there. i don’t want to leave your wounds overnight without doing anything. you need stitches. p-please. it’ll be quick. if i have to, if the nurse would let me, i would do it myself.”

he hates his scars and that is something you never fail to remember. as much as possible, you treat him fast to alleviate any pain and also… to prevent more scars that would haunt him. but if it’s just your opinion that matters, the scars he has are beautiful and you want to bury them with enough kisses to make him forget how he got them.

“let’s go, please. h-haru.”

meanwhile, you don’t notice the way sanzu shuts his eyes tightly in pure guilt at how you struggle to simply get him on board for his own sake.

“fuckin’ let it go.”

there he goes again, doing what he is best at. pushing you away and asking you not to care when it is obviously too late for that. acting like he’s too good for the love you gladly offer him.

you scoff at his attitude and stand up, leaving him sitting alone on the steps. “how could i let it go? you’re sitting in front of my building all hurt and bruised up and you think i won’t fuss over it?”

all you want to do it touch him. trace your fingertips over the red and purple marks on his face in hopes that the love you have all over you would ease the pain he carries around. hide him in your pockets so no one could ever dare lay a hand on him again.

it’s all so simple. you only wish for so little. is that all too much to ask for? to love him properly?

he looks up to shoot a sharp glare at you. “yeah! exactly! ‘cuz i only wanted some company who doesn’t act my goddamn mother!”

you don’t know it, and even he doesn’t know it, but he was lying. he went here because seeing you is his only comfort, but he doesn’t know that so he has no way of saying it. he went here because he knew exactly how you would react and he’s addicted to how it feels being cared for by you. but again, he doesn’t realize that. he acts on autopilot.

“your mother? really?” you almost spit in offense. even if he either meant it literally or in a sense that cages him, it’s both hurtful. his mother left him the way you never did, and you never meant to smother him to the point of suffocation.

“i don’t even know what you mean by that. i don’t think i want to know. but let me say this to you—if you hate it so much being taken care of, then maybe my company isn’t what you need. i will always worry about you and you want someone who doesn’t. it’s not me who you’re looking for. you don’t want me.“

he does.

god, he does.

but you don’t know it.

and he won’t say it.

he stands up to finally settle in front of you, and the way he towers over you still didn’t fail to dismantle the demons in your stomach despite the situation.

“why’d you care so much for me, hm?” he challenges you smugly, hiding the disdain he has for himself for always putting you in these situations. “come on, pretty girl. tell me why you do all this shit for me.”

a tear escapes your eye and it shakes him to the core. he is taken aback he almost forgot his lines, and for a moment when his mind went blank, he really did.

“why would you cry for someone like me?”

you stupidly and courageously meet his eye.

“don’t act like you don’t know. i have told you so many times before. i tell you all the time.”

of course, he knows that. he just wants to hear you say it again just in case he dies in his sleep tonight.

“i love you, haru. i am in love with you. that’s why. you don’t remember because you don’t want to accept it. tomorrow, you will forget that i love you. tomorrow, when you wake up, you will not know that i worry for you, night and day.”

“you’re fucking stupid,” he says. he means it. you’re stupid for daring to love someone like him. you’re stupid for setting yourself up for a huge heartbreak.

the agreement that follows doesn’t shock him.

“i know.”

sanzu haruchiyo knows about your plans. he knows all about your dreams. he knows about your dream of getting married at the beach right before the sun sets. he knows of your openness to the possibility of having children, or if not, raising corgis with your life partner. he knows, and he wants it to be with him.

but it is exactly because he knows about how passionate you are about those dreams that he cannot dare take them away from you.

he’s a criminal, a gang member, and most definitely not a husband material you could exchange vows with nor raise children with. he would make a terrible husband and a much more horrible father.

he loves you so much that he can’t risk having you compromise your plans just to fit into the shape that he is. he can’t do that to you. if he could, he would be the one to adjust but he doesn’t know how.

so, he pushes you away.

he doesn’t deserve you. his family never loved him enough, how could he ever think he could love somebody right? your love is too good, too pure, too unadulterated for his soul who has seen all the horrors of life that he could already die.

in haru’smind, you deserve to be someone who either has a phd, a jd, or an md. whatever else would work, as long as that someone has a reputable job and could provide you the life you always planned for, not someone who doesn’t even know what he would do the next day. you deserve to be with someone who knows how to raise kids or how to care for dogs, not someone who would scare any delicate being with his scars. you should be with someone that is not him—but you’re not making it any easier.

everytime you would whisper “i love you, haru” in his ears where only he could hear, snippets of a future flashes in his head. whenever you confess “i am in love with you, so much” so simply, futures of him standing on the sands of the beach, delivering his vows to you. receiving those three words from you makes him believe that he could live the life you want, because in truth, that is also what he want.

say i love you, and he will want to cross out all boxes in your bucket list with you. he wants to be a part of your plans. he wants to have your ring on his finger, your child in his arms, or your dogs on his lap. whatever the fuck you want, he wants it.

he just doesn’t think he should want it. he doesn’t think he has the right to be that selfish.

it was torturous, each step he made the night he walked away from you after you told him once again that you loved him, but he thought it was for the better because you would finally get over him.

as much as that would kill him, he would be comforted by the fact that you would be okay

on your graduation day, you complete another part of your plan, but it doesn’t feel as fulfilling you thought it would be. you think spending four grueling years in university and finishing with honors would somehow send you off in a high, but that is not the case.

you are surrounded by all the people who love you, but your eyes search for the only one who doesn’t.

your friends and family don’t understand why you love him as much as you do, but that is only because they don’t know what only you and sanzu know.

nobody else knows the midnights you stay awake due to your really bad craps and sanzu sneaking past the dormitory guard to bring you supplies.

they don’t understand because they weren’t there when sanzu ran barefoot in his panic to the alley you nervously called him to when you thought you were being followed by a sketchy guy.

no one else but sanzu was around when you got sick during finals week and couldn’t hold up on your own so he cooked your meals as best as he can, changed the wet towel on your forehead every thirty minutes, helped you dress up, reminded you of the things you tried hard to study, and dragged you to class.

your love cannot be understood by someone who didn’t see how sanzu held you when you cried over the death of the dog you grew up with and the little funeral he set up with only the two of you.

they cannot possibly make sense of the amount of affection you have for the man if they weren’t in the room where sanzu first mumbled some unclear words that sounded so closely to i love you with your name attached to it in his sleep.

you stop trying to make them understand why you want to get out of your graduation party to run to the person who wasn’t there.

as you stride towards the street where sanzu’s apartment is to come and see him on this special day, you see him as soon as you turned the corner. you were quick to spot him, but he saw you first.

with a good six meters between you, you stand staring at each other in the middle of the busy street. you look at the other’s eyes like there’s no one else around. the feeling of longing and the familiar fucking sensation of being in love with him for too long burns your throat, like flowers are growing out of your lungs but you find yourself addicted to them.

your haru also stands still to stare at you, who is all covered in a huge coat that buries your body, and the intention in your eyes gives away that you are there for him. he disappears for months and on your graduation day that he is so painfully aware of, you go to him? how stupid can you be?

why are you here? he left you so you could move on.

damn woman. you can’t move on like this. i can’t forget you like this. i can no longer let you go like this. i will want to keep you all to myself like this.

how many times does he have to push you away for you to give up on him? he has lost count already, and surely you had too. you are always on the receiving end of his rejections and yet you willingly find him wherever he is, to the ends of the earth?

he thinks he has never loved you as much as he loved you in that moment. and he thinks he will love you even more if you close the distance.

because you know he never will, you do it yourself. you take the first step to swallow the distance he so carefully placed at the expense of his own heart just to protect your future. you take the remaining steps that would make it impossible for the both of you to move on from the intensity of this love affair.

sanzu haruchiyo wants to kneel on the concrete and raise his hands in both worship and blame at the god who created you to love him as much as this.

when you stop in front of him, he is still frozen but his eyes are warm. he is slowly seeping in the warmth you have always been trying to share with him.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, but not coldly. he asks because he wants to make sure you’re real.

“i didn’t want this day to end without you. it doesn’t feel right, haru. i want you there. more than anyone.”

a pause. you can already predict what he’d ask next.

“why?”

you never get tired of answering that question.

no matter how many times he rejects you, you still believe he deserves to hear them. you always go back to him because you know he deserves the love you are trying to give him. you always seek him because you know him too much to give up.

“because i’m in love with you.”

he doesn’t laugh this time, he doesn’t roll his eyes, he doesn’t tell you you’re wrong, he doesn’t tell you that you’re stupid. he only closes his eyes and accepts your hands that cup his cheeks, bringing his hands on top of them along the process.

“you cannot say or do anything that could change it. you can curse me, push me away, and hide from me, or even not see me ever again… but i will always do.”

he sheds a tear at your words.

the next time he speaks, his voice breaks. probably at the weight of the words and of the confession he cradled in secret for years.

“i love you, y/n. so fucking much i can’t wrap my head around it. my heart… feels like it only beats for you to the point where it feels like a fuckin’ sin.”

he doesn’t let you interrupt.

“it’s so easy loving you. but you love me. that’s where it gets complicated, baby. it’s so hard, y/n. it’s hard loving me. my family told me so. my friends tell me so. everyone i meet tell me it’s so… damn… difficult to love someone like me.”

you shake your head and will him to open his eyes, and he does. you look straight into them, making sure he would see the truth you have always held for him in your pupils that could only see him.

“it’s not. it’s not hard, haru. i love you, i love you as natural as i breathe. i love you like how my heart beats and how my blood runs in my veins. it’s not hard. i do it all the time. i love you all the time.”

it is his turn to shake his head. you love him too much to even mind how complicated he really is.

you only make it look easy even when he is hard to love, but he’ll take it. in all his greed and selfishness, he’ll accept it this time.

he will spend the rest of his life filling your life with love, happiness, and adoration to atone for it.

for now, he’ll cherish the softness of your lips and etch into his memory how perfectly they fit with his at the very first time they touch.

#⏳ — lumi’s fics! #i’m back! #I AM SO PROUD OF THIS #pls give it some love! #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers fics #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers fluff #sanzu fics #sanzu angst #sanzu imagines #sanzu haruchiyo #tokyo revengers

[proseka-headcanons]

heck. it's kamikou second years anon back at it again at krispy kreme (pet* edition) (*definition of pet might be stretched)

mizuki, nene, an and akito all pass around one fake rubber cockroach as a just in case whenever they see tsukasa. toya actively discourages it but the other four have grown attached to the rubber cockroach and when he confiscated it he felt bad so he gave it back. they named it and everything it's their child now

there's a strange purple cat that occasionally shows up on campus that the five of them have befriended. mizuki made up the theory that it's rui in disguise ("we've never seen the two of them in the same location before!") that toya fully believes (an is starting to believe too, but she won't admit it). it does not help that this cat hates being near the vegetable garden

nene has a tamagotchi that she cannot keep alive. she just can't. she tries her best but she always gets distracted and forgets about it and when she comes back it's dead. the rest do not know this; she once lent it to an to let her try and it died off the bat and an didn't know how to break it to nene so she blamed it on akito (who had no idea what was happening)

Do they name the roach Gregor /silly /reference /sorry the lobotomy /sorry my demons /I love you bug guy -🦈

HELP????? also i don't wanna name it gregor, we all know how that ends :( also rui cat real - 🥞

the cat IS rui. rui is a cat we all know this and also purple and hates vegetables it's 100% rui. also the cockroach is named JEREMY and we're passing him around and hopefully one day we can sneak him into tsukasa's pocket... a group of silly teenagers can dream... also i've realized all of the kamikou 2nd years are represented by mods now. me, mod aki, mod toya, mod nene and mod an! the gang's all here - 🎀

#proseka headcanons #project sekai #pjsk #prsk #project sekai colorful stage #prosekai #project sekai headcanons #mizuki akiyama #akiyama mizuki #nene kusanagi #kusanagi nene #an shiraishi #shiraishi an #akito shinonome #shinonome akito #toya aoyagi #aoyagi toya #mod ichika #if you know what i mean. no you dont #mod akito #mod mizuki

[valkyriesaga-if]

Built a few years after the Collapse, the city of Yggdrasil was meant to be a haven, a refuge. A utopia, where everyone could find their place and be equals.

But that’s the thing with utopias and ideals; they don’t last very long.

Yggdrasil was barely 20 years old when the Magi Council rose above their human brethren, firmly splitting society in two: the magi on one side, who wield privilege like a sword, and the humans on the other, whose only privilege was to stay alive and quiet.

After all, how can you deny Magi what they want, when they are the only thing protecting you from what’s outside the walls?

You’ve been living in the Helheim district for almost as long as you can remember, raised amongst crooks, conmen and criminals all your life. While this hardly seems like ideal conditions to raise a child, it was better than having the Council find out your secret. Helheim was the best place for secrets. You knew it, your mother knew it, everyone in Yggdrasil knew it.

You’re an undeclared Magi. In a city where showing the barest hint of magic can get a child taken away from their parents and chain them forever to the Council of Magi, raising a child under the watching eyes of kingpins, thieves and prostitutes was a shield, an armor. The best protection love could offer.

Every day, you live on the edge of the razor. One wrong move and your life could be upended entirely. But when your mother is on the verge of losing her house, her business, her entire life to Greed, you can’t just sit there and watch it happen.

Being hired to steal the Eyes of The Watcher, the most precious gems in all of Yggdrasil, located right in the heart of the Council Chamber, didn’t seem like such a bad idea, at the time.

Genre

Post apocalyptic, urban fantasy, heist

Content Warning

The story will be 18+ for violence, potential sexual themes, explicit content and gore.

Fully customizable MC: name, gender identity, sexuality, appearance, personality and demeanor

Interact with a varied cast of NPCs

Shape your relationships with your fellow gang members, from lovers to platonic besties, all the while keeping in mind that they are all criminals and liars, just like you.

Experience the Nightmares™

Engage in highly illegal, highly dangerous activities, and maybe some light rebellion and overthrow of authority on the side

Polish your skills such as stealth, combat or knowledge, and discover more about your magic

Spend some time in the luxurious streets of Asgard and other delightful places such as a Helheim fighting ring, the city sewers or a defunct meat factory

Hallucinate?

Pet the cat

The selfish mercenary - Lònan [M, he/him]

Money is the only thing that matters to Lònan. He has made that very clear since the beginning. Obviously, he doesn’t seem to care that much about his own life, otherwise he would have found another way to make a fortune. One that doesn’t involve going into the heart of the enemy territory to steal the most valuable and well guarded artifact in town, for example. Just a thought.

The disgraced Magi - Yugō [M, he/him]

Magi have virtually everything they might want. Money, luxury, and an unending hoard of lackeys to cater to their every need. So you can’t help but wonder what might lead one of them to hide amongst the rats in the dark alleys of Helheim, and Yugo is not inclined to answer your questions.

The unwelcome guest - Halloran [M, he/him]

No one really knows who Halloran is or what he wants, but he seems to keep inviting himself in your dreams, taking great pleasure in playing with you and your sanity. Only he is a cat playing with a mouse, and you can only hope that he won’t eat you whole.

The estranged friend - Mavis [F, she/her]

Back in the time you lived in Midgard West, you and Mavis used to be friends, practically joined by the hip. While she remained as kind and gentle as you remember her, there is a hard edge to her eyes that wasn’t there before.

The mysterious outsider - Koyal [F, she/her]

A courier from outside of town, you’re not sure why she joined your ragtag group of criminals. Calm and quiet, she mostly keeps to herself, but you can’t help but feel her watchful gaze on you every time you have your back turned.

The disembodied voice - Morgane [F, she/her]

You’ve never met her in person, your only contacts with her being over the phone, as she gives instructions to you and the rest of the group. She seems to be the only one in direct relation with the person who hired you for some trivial B&E in the most secure facility in Yggdrasil.

Lònan/Yugō and Koyal/Halloran are potential poly routes.

TBA

This is my first IF and English is not my first language, so feel free to send any constructive criticisms and corrections my way.

This is very early development, so many things are subject to change as i work on the story

Asks are welcome and reblogs appreciated!

#interactive fiction #interactive game #interactive novel #IF #twine #twine game #cyoa #if wip #no demo #wip intro #twine story #twine if #wip #the valkyries saga

[wrecked-writer]

Wild Sorcerer Merlin Au pt 1

Uther finds out about Merlin’s magic and he is to be executed

This is set around s2 or 3 so before evil Morgana

The gang ( Morgana, Gwen and Arthur) help Merlin escape but Merthur have a huge argument

“ I can’t believe you’ve lie to me all this time!” “I didn’t want to I just-!” “I don’t wanna hear it!”

In the end Merlin leaves with a bitter and sad relationship with Arthur

Arthur is inconsolable, his best friend and the man he loved trusted the most in the world lied to him! He is bitter and angry and so so sad.

The knights of the round table still come to be but Merlin’s role could never be replaced

Uther dies estranged from his children and Arthur takes the throne

Morgana’s dreams get so bad that she runs away to a Druid camp and is never seen from again

Years go by and not a single day has Arthur not thought of Merlin, even after his failed attempts at courting Gwen (she was always better off with Lancelot anyway)

One day while hunting they encounter a really bad and corrupted magic animal

They are losing the battle and as all hope is lost a magic burst comes in and saves them all

They’re injured and confused and scared but alive

A Druid finds them and after Arthur swears their safety, leads them to their camp where they are healed

Arthur watches the camp in wonder and is talked to by a Druid elder

She’s an ancient thing, skin so wrinkled with experience he can’t help but feel like a child in her presence

She is kind and patient

She talks to him of mundane things and he forgets for that moment that she is a Druid, someone raised with magic.

She hands him soup and warms it with magic. He wonders at that because never has he seen magic used for mundane and simple things

That prompts the knights to ask about that magic burst that saved their lives

“Was that magic you guys?”

The druids sit in a long silence before the old Druid lady comes up to them

“It must have been dear Emrys” “Emrys? Whose that?” “Oh my dears, who do you think has been protecting Camelot all these years?”

The druids then explain how Emrys has been protecting Camelot from several years now. They mention a few that they know of (the priestess Morgause being stopped several times) and talk of the many protection spells and wards that surround Camelot.

Arthur is confused and kinda terrified. Why would this Emrys protect Camelot, protect them, when they could be killed for even simple warming spells? What do they gain? Who are they?

The druids speak of Emrys’ power and how it keeps growing everyday.

“He visits sometimes, sometimes to set wards for us, sometimes to learn whatever spells we know, sometimes just for company. He’s a lonely boy, that one. The weight of the world on his shoulders and a horribly kind heart. You are fortunate to have him on your side.”

After dinner they rest and Arthur can’t help but think of Merlin and how he would react. He decides to finally lift the ban on magic.

They get back to Camelot and Arthur begins drafting the laws on magic use before lifting the ban

A few months go by and in that time Arthur notices the little sparks of magic protecting Camelot. He tries to make the laws as quick but as well as he could. He went to the Druids for help on what could be done to make more accurate laws on magic

He asks them on where to find Emrys, to thank him and ask for his help. And perhaps to add him to the court because someone whose been protecting Camelot so fiercely in spite of the dangers should be part of the council.

The Druids can only shake their heads sadly “He can only be found when he wants to be.” and leave it at that

Later Morgana comes back after about Arthur working to lift the band. Their reunion is bitter at first but when Morgana explains why she left they come an understanding with one another

She works together with him [and the roundtable] to lift the ban. When they ask her about Emrys she gives them a funny look.

“You don’t know?” “No, Morgan, we don’t. The Druids only say we’ll find him when he wants to be found”

She scoffs unbelievably “That blasted fool!” And storms out

No one sees her for almost a week before she comes barging back in the council room, dragging a cloaked figure by their cloth( who is clearly trying to remove her grip)

Arthur was angry with worry and demanded to know where she went.

“Where the bloody hell have you been!?” “First of all watch your tone when speaking to me. Second of all, i went ahead and got Emrys since you lot are too incompetent to do so” “…….THATS EMRYS!?”

They argue and bicker some more while Emrys struggles against Morgana’s grip, a misstep here leads to the cloak coming off

Arthur looks and practically swallows his tongue at who he sees.

It’s Merlin

#honestly not the best but I wanted to get the idea out my head #fanfiction #writing #ao3 #Merlin #bbc Merlin #bbc Merlin Arthur pendragon #bbc Merlin Morgana pendragon #bbc Merlin morgana #bbc Merlin Arthur #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #Morgana pendragon #bbc merlin Gwen #guinivere #bbc merlin Lancelot #lancelot du lac

[paladibun]

So I got bonkers obsessed with BG3 and while this isn't a BG3/D&D AU(which I might do a bit later), I did start thinking about fantasy byler again.

The Lore of this particular AU:

Will and Mike are childhood best friends in a peasant town. Mike is a human son of a merchant, and Will is a half elf in hiding. Maybe he has some kind of special power or is favored by a god making him a target for multiple assassins' and groups of interest hunt for him in order to use his power. Joyce, finally thinking she could let her guard down, was able to live with Will in that quiet town for six years until one of those hunters found them and destroyed the whole town causing Mike to take Will in order to keep him safe from the kidnappers. They would be 12 y/os on the run that meet the rest of the gang on their adventures in different areas. Maybe El and Will are connected through dreams and their goal is to find her so that they can get whichever power Will has out of him. Or maybe both El and Will lived in the same town protected by Joyce but El got kidnapped but Will and Mike managed to escape and they want to get her back or something. Anyway, at first it was Mike attempting to swordfight, often badly, but slowly becoming an adept swordmaster through experience and mentors while Will, wanting to be able to help Mike, would study as a cleric to be able to patch him up after he keeps fighting till he's half dead on instinct.

Thinking about how the turns would table after five years of traveling together and growing stronger where Will can finally properly help Mike after of all the years of him keeping them both alive.

But also yeah I keep thinking about Swordsman Mike that just keeps rolling very low all the time. Maybe something cursed him early in life? Something about luck or perception. Someone help me make magic ADHD.

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #fantasy au #but also oh man i do wanna think of bg3 byler. i feel like will would romance wyll or halsin and mike would romance gale or halsin #el would go for karlach #lucas lae'zel and dustin shadownheart? #astarion is very henry coded to me so idk

[pinesfamilyguidetotheweird]

Stan Pines Headcanons Part 01

A Tight Squeeze

No doubt that he has some level of claustrophobia after being trapped in a trunk. I wanna say it was from an artsymeeshee post where a fic idea (a fic idea I still have and is still 95% finished…) that dives deeper into Stan’s quote of ‘chewing out of the trunk of a car’. When trapped in said trunk, the car it was attached to was pushed into a bog or something to sink (from I think Zeragii’s fic on AO3). With Stan in it.

Bi the Way

Because why the heck not? And, yes, I do think he dated Jimmy Snakes for a short while. Even so, Stan leans more towards women.

Hablo Español

I think it is canon that he knows some Spanish (The Last Mabelcorn). I do believe that he’s actually quite fluent in Spanish, something he picked up while in Colombian prison. Speaking of, it is said that he was imprisoned in three different countries. I’d take the guess that Colombia was one of them. As for the other two…still thinking on that, though I’d imagine the countries aren’t too far from the USA because I can’t imagine Stan being able to take a plane to, say, England. After some consideration, I think that the other two countries he was arrested in were Canada and Brazil. He knows some French and an exceptional bit of Portugal.

For Protection

Those ten guns he has? They’re for protecting himself (plus his family) from not only people from Stan’s past, but also from any aggressive anomalies that call Gravity Falls home. Or really anyone/anything else he deems as a threat to his family.

Love at First Sight

Stan claims that he’s not a fan of kids. He even wanted nothing to do with his nephew when he was born because he was all snotty and drooly. However, when Dipper and Mabel were born, it was like a switch was flipped and Stan adored the twin babies.

A Froggy Dream

Stan once had an occurring dream that he was the owner of some wax museum, which actually inspired him to get (steal) those cursed wax figures. The oddest part about the dream was that he was a frog instead of a human. And he swore that Soos was in it too.

Still Got It

He started going back to keeping in boxing shape some time after the twins were born.

Second Thoughts

There had been maaany times during those 30 years that Stan wondered if his brother was even still alive and if all this work was worth it.

Somewhat Sentimental

Similar to how Mabel has a section in her scrapbook of failed romance, Stan has a booklet that contains his own failed love life. Of the known partners he had, they were: Carla McCorkle, Jimmy Snakes, Marilyn Rosenstein, and Lazy Susan. There was probably more he tried to sweet talk over the years, but never panned out. Heck, Darlene the Spider Woman is probably in the book too. Also, I find it funny how three of the six known lovers are magical in some way (Jimmy is basically Ghost Rider, Marilyn Eda is a witch, and Darlene is...I guess a Jorogumo)

Former Biker

Pretty much a scrapped idea that is now in headcanon land, that Stan was part of a biker gang at one point, which was how he knew Jimmy Snakes, who was the biker leader. He still has his helmet and leather jacket. I wonder if he still knows how to drive a motorcycle.

#gravity falls #stanley pines #grunkle stan #stan pines #gravity falls headcanons

[gabessquishytum]

Mobster!Alpha Hob mates with In-the Dark About The Criming!Omega Dream.

Hob runs one of the largest crime families on the Eastern seaboard. He is not a nice man, surrounded by not nice men and women. He allows for no dissent or stepping out of line. And he will (violently) protects every omega that makes it to him who requests protection.

Dream is Hob's pretty princess omega. He dresses for Hob's pleasure & desire. He's beautiful and the hottest arm candy in Hob's social circle (of scary men).

Hob has money and is obesssed with Dream - his happiness; making sure he has everything he wants; making sure no one makes him uncomfortable or scared. They are traditionally mated, but actually in love.

More to the point, Dream doesn't really know what Hob's business is - Hob purposefully keeps the seedier side of things away from his princess; and Dream doesn’t care about anything be loving his (masterful) Hob.

An upstart gang makes a move against Hob - injuring Hob, killing some of his people, and kidnapping Dream. The last thing Dream sees as he's grabbed and knocked out is Hob bleeding and unconscious; last thing he remembers before he wakes up again is screaming Hob's name. Dream might not know the full extent of Hob's "business," but when he wakes up naked in a glass cage, what he does know is that Hob will come for him --- as long as there is breath in his lungs(; as long as he's still alive).

I really like this set-up!! Spoiled princess Dream who knows that his beloved husband is rich and powerful and maybe not very nice, but he's nice to Dream, and that's what matters. Dream doesn't ask questions. He's busy with his own stuff, dressing pretty for his alpha, doing his art projects, taking Hob’s knot. He loves Hob so much, and he loves the life that they have together.

Well now Dream is forced to confront the reality of who he's married to. He's in this cage, he's being threatened with torture and terrible degradation. When the gang ask questions about Hob’s business, Dream can't even answer because he doesn't know anything! But he wouldn't say a word even if he did know. All he thinks of his Hob, if Hob survived the attack, if he'll come soon. His captors expected Dream to be broken and begging by now but all he does is murmur Hob’s name hopefully, tracing the letters on the glass.

Hob had to physically fight to get out of the hospital when he woke up. They kept trying to sedate him, saying he was risking his life if he left the hospital. But Hob is an alpha with a goal. He's getting his omega back, by hell or high water. And he is NOT in a good mood when he and a few trusted companions bust into the basement where Dream has been kept. The gang members are gunned down and Hob’s team quickly work to free the omega.

Hob is in a bad state but he can still pick Dream up and carry him up the stairs, soothing and licking his bond mark the whole time. He holds Dream constantly for the next few hours, even at the hospital. And he bites anyone who tries to separate them. Dream is traumatised but happy to be in Hob’s arms. For a little while he thought he might never be Hob’s princess ever again. Now he's sure they can put the whole thing behind them.

Hob practically wraps Dream in cotton wool from that day on. Although he's completely open about how he makes his living now, he never lets anyone from that side of his life near his precious omega. He has Dream under strict protection. He even gives Dream his own little weapon of choice, of course the prettiest and most expensive he can find. Only the best for his darling.

Dream is far tougher than he looks, and Hob knows that. But that isn't the point. He's sworn to love and protect his omega, and to provide for him. So he's going to spoil Dream in every way that he can. Seeing him in that glass cage confirmed what Hob already knew: he'd burn the world to a pile of ash, if it meant making his Dream happy.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[knockknockknockingonhootysdoor]

i know the reunion is going to go very differently but a guy can dream

also bisexual camila moment pls pls pls ill do anything

Eda: Do you hear that guys? Raine: We should keep moving... Hooty: PLAYTIME'S ABOUT TO START! Lilith: We have 30 minutes. Darius: We need to meet up with Eber and the others, Edalyn.

--

Eda: Luz? Kiddo? Luz: Eda! EDA!! Eda: Oh Luz, you're a sight for sore eyes, kid! omg.... E-Eda...

Eda is dogpiled by the gang.

Eda: SHIT!! Hexsquad: EEEEDAAAAAAAAA!!! Camila: That's the Owl Lady? Hunter: Yeah. She's.... a character.

--

Darius: I'm so glad you're alive Hunter. I'm so glad. Darius?

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Aw!

--

Darius: Edalyn, we can't screw around. We have to go. Eda: What? Don't you wanna show Camila around? Raine: C'mon guys! :( Camila: Is everyone here a model?

#toh fanart #eda clawthorne #darius daemonne #camila noceda #raine whispers #sketchbook #im not tagging everyone here that would take too long u n u #the owl house #toh #my art

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

So I've got some thoughts for my RvB gang.

I had a thought recently. I found Sharkface to be an extremely boring villain. Like he was cool(ish) and the jokes about how edy he was trying to be were funny(ish) but. You know who would have been more fun? The dude with the robot arm.

Think about it - the guy was shot by Carolina and left behind on a drilling rig that blew up, and survived. He tanked a MAC round from orbit and all he lost was his right arm. They've set up a perfect villain here. Claiming he literally can't die would be so funny! Every time he appears he dies, then he just shows back up with yet another robotic prosthetic. His whole subplot is that he just desperately wants to die, and he finally figured out that the pyramid thing is his only shot at finally getting his wish. The problem is that he would also wipe out the rest of life as we know it if he did that.

Anyway, the background subplot is what's really important here. Carolina is being hunted down by a shadowy figure. Evidence points to him being another hired gun working with the pirates. He is always half a step behind her, getting closer and closer to tracking her down.

Eventually in the climax, the hitman catches up to Carolina. They go through an intense duel, where he seems to be able to anticipate all of her best moves and counteract them. Finally, she manages to hit the guy hard enough to knock off his helmet.

It's York.

Then we get some backstory - when York was shot going after Wyoming, Delta turned on his healing unit. He then told Tex that York was dying. As soon as she left Delta woke York back up, got him to swap armor with one of the grunts, and disappear.

So York spent several months slowly recovering. During that time, life finally beat him. He didn't have his armor, he didn't have his healing unit anymore, and he didn't have Delta to keep him coming. He finally gave up on the dream of finding Carolina alive somewhere.

So instead, he decided it was high time someone finally killed Director Church. He would kill the man who took everything he'd ever loved - admittedly, in a roundabout sort of way - from him. Only when he tracked the director down, he found hundreds of dead Allison lookalikes and archive footage of yet another cheap robot replacement killing the Director - except this time Church went to far. He made a replacement of her. He couldn't even let his own daughter's memory find peace.

So, York ended up with a new goal: kill the robot that had stolen Carolina's face (armor). End it once and for all. Bring some closure for the girl that he loved so much but never got to keep.

After all of this revelation, we finally get York and Carolina's big happy ending. I don't know how they beat the immortal robo guy, but mostly I just care about my Yorkalina angst and resolutions.

Anyway. I'd love to hear anyone's thoughts. And... should I write this at some point? Let me know.

#red vs blue #rvb #agent york #agent carolina #yorkalina

[crossdressingdeath]

A thing that I find really fascinating about Alistair and the Warden's dynamic is how for Alistair becoming a Warden was the best thing that could have ever happened to him, but it's very easy to have a Warden for whom it ruined their life.

Like, the only Warden who absolutely had to become a Warden or they would die is Mahariel, because the Joining was the only thing that would stop the Blight from killing them. Some of the others needed rescue, but Duncan could've "conscripted" them and then let them go free once they were away from the people threatening them. Some of them would've been in trouble if left on their own, but the Wardens weren't the only group that could've helped them! It's possible to play a Warden who absolutely wants to be a Grey Warden, but it's just as easy to portray them as a frightened, desperate victim of circumstance getting press-ganged into the Wardens by the man who in that moment has a huge amount of power over them. The Warden can say no... but they don't really have a choice.

Meanwhile for Alistair, Duncan absolutely saved him. He hated the Templars and the Wardens were a dream come true for him. But that creates a situation where you can have this massive disconnect between him and the Warden, because for him the Wardens were his salvation but it's very easy for the Warden to view it as a fate worse than death, and we never really get a chance to get into that conversation with him. Which is like... I would've loved to really get into that with Alistair! It would've been fascinating to hear Alistair's near-worship of Duncan and respond to it with "He ruined my life, I didn't want to be a Warden and he made me do it anyway". And I do wonder if sparing Loghain might have been gone over somewhat better if we were able to have that conversation with Alistair before that point? Because Alistair has this very firm image of the Wardens as heroes because he views Duncan as a hero, and the image of joining the Wardens as a reward when... yeah, for most people being dragged into a secretive society that worships self-sacrifice and that will ultimately kill them is very much not a reward. It is better than the Templars! But it's not something most people would want. So Alistair is looking at you sparing Loghain and going "You're rewarding him for what he did", but for any Warden who wasn't super into joining the Wardens it's more... this is a punishment for Loghain. This isn't something he wants. He's being sentenced to serve the organization he betrayed until the day he dies, and from the way Riordan talks about it it seems pretty clear to me that his intent was basically "If I can't kill the Archdemon, these two young adults should not be the ones to die for the world"? The intent in putting Loghain through the Joining is to have a convenient sacrifice to throw onto the fire, not to spare him or reward him. From what people have said Alistair is less angry with you if you sacrifice Loghain, which suggests that in hindsight and with the knowledge of how killing the Archdemon works he does understand that joining the Wardens was not a reward for Loghain? But it's a little sad that there's no equivalent realization if you don't sacrifice anyone, so if you choose to go through with the ritual after sparing Loghain Alistair just... continues to be angry with the Warden for keeping Loghain alive. I don't know if it's ever even confirmed that he was told about how the Warden who lands the final blow dies. Although he does seem to have relaxed about it by the time of Awakening.

I wonder if a Warden who was forced into the Wardens by Duncan ever explained that to Alistair, though. Because the disconnect between Alistair worshipping Duncan for saving him and a Warden who loathes the man for forcing them into a situation they never wanted to be in against their will on pain of death is fascinating to me.

#dragon age origins #hero of ferelden #alistair theirin

[jjungkookislife]

Quarterly Fic Recs 2024: #1

Hello! I'm back again with the first fic rec list of 2024! I enjoyed reading these fics, and I hope y'all do as well! Please be mindful of the warnings on each fic and I encourage you to reblog fics you enjoy as well :)

Seokjin

king of tides @sailoryooons

summary: Seokjin meets a ghost of his past when he and his crew stop to celebrate for the evening.

Yoongi

desecrate @hamsterclaw

summary: A fall from grace causes you to stumble into the hands of a demon prince. Inspired by Lilith.

stress relief @dreamescapeswriting

soft Yoongi having a bad day

morals on sundays @/gimmethatagustd

summary: You’re still in love with your ex-boyfriend. Yoongi offers some help to get over him.

Hoseok

spider web @/sailoryooons

summary: Playing games with vampires is a bad idea. Playing with Spiders is worse.

Namjoon

gang shit @gimmethatagustd

summary: Your daughter’s classmate has a really hot dad. Apparently, you’re his arch-nemesis.

Jimin

technicolor @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Love is one hell of a drug. Bottled and sold on the black market, it isn’t for the faint-hearted. You’re not really interested in trying it until you meet Jimin.

Taehyung

the one with taehyung's indecent proposal @eoieopda

summary: your fuck buddy’s class reunion is coming up. that’s not something you expected to learn about. it’s definitely not something you expected to be implicated in.

Jungkook

none :(

OT7/Multiple Members

carnival of terror @theharrowing

summary: The carnival is in town, and it is unlike anything you have ever experienced. Will you make it out alive?

immortals @bang-tan-bitches

summary: Sometimes, you find your destiny. And sometimes, your destiny does whatever it takes to keep you.

petrichor @purpleyoonn

summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Seokjin

memories of you @shuadotcom

summary: Your memories with Seokjin are some of your favorite.

serve me @chateautae

summary: kim seokjin has been your annoyingly stoic butler ever since you started university, and were gifted your own penthouse. for years, your relationship had remained on the outs, subjecting seokjin to hearing your desperate moans for other men each time they climbed into your sheets; and each time you rubbed it in his face. little did you know that you were only riling him up, and it would be your moans for him bouncing off the walls when your taunting finally unravels his ironclad self-control.

sweet dreams @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Seokjin loves when you paint your nails pink.

Yoongi

broken pt. 2 @kithtaehyung

summary: the championship game lights up… and everything goes down.

maybe so @diorh0seokie

(cheating/angst)

Hoseok

gone wild @johobi

summary: Hoseok consumes porn like he does Cheetos: in unhealthily large amounts. He’s seen, and jacked off to, most things imaginable. But there are those photos that always draw him back…

hot rod @kinktae

summary: a 1950′s inspired fic where greaser Hoseok can’t keep his eyes, or hands, off the new waitress at his and his boys’ favorite diner.

keeping a secret @/kpopfanfictrash

summary: You and Hoseok have been hooking up for a few weeks now. No one in your friend group knows. What happens then, when he shows up at movie night looking better than anticipated?

flower @readyplayerhobi

summary: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

who's your daddy? @ppersonna

summary: in order to get over your hopeless crush, you sign up for DADDI, a daddy-dom dating site. you can’t tell your friends, especially your best friend hoseok. but as weeks go on, you’re desperate to meet the man behind the screen.

groupie love @kimnjss

summary: he’s ½ of the famous rap duo, the 94′s. when stumbling upon a pretty youtuber, he’s quick to decide he wants to have her. but one night with her just doesn’t seem like enough.

heartbreaker ^

summary: you’re just his type. so it’s no surprise when all of his time and effort goes into making you his. though, they’ve always said… you only want it because you can’t have it.

swallow your pride @/ugh-yoongi

established relationship

ho ho horrible ^

summary: the one where your neighbor is a relentless christmas caroler and refuses to take a hint, but at least he’s really hot.

hate that i love it @yoongiphoria

summary: hate-fucking hoseok is your favorite and least favorite thing to do.

take care of me @/gimmethatagustd

summary: You’d never trade quiet, sleepless nights with your boyfriend for anything in the world, even when sometimes it feels like the world is falling apart around you.

not today, satan ^

summary: If you had known the demon tasked with reaping your soul would be a total #daddy you would have gone to Hell sooner!

Namjoon

the gang summons a demon @ugh-yoongi

the prompt: you, a powerful demoness, have just been summoned to earth. this man, this human, wants you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a few days so his parents will get off his back about it.

in the closet ^

office au

Jimin

none :(

Taehyung

rotten angelcake ch. 11 @inkedtae

summary: she’s as sweet as angelcake; he likes her honeyed rotten. this is a series following the complicated relationship between a sugar baby, sugar daddy and his corruption kink.

loverboy @kookslastbutton

summary: After a startling conversation with your coworkers, you start feeling insecure about your sexual prowess. You don’t initiate as much, you haven’t worn lingerie yet, and you’re still timid about doing much seducing with your body–are you giving your boyfriend boring sex? Taehyung reassures you that you are perfect and have nothing to worry about.

Jungkook

be mine @minisugakoobies

summary: Won’t you be his Valentine?

to give a helping hand @oddinary4bts

summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

oxygen @/gimmethatagustd

summary: If you get caught, you’ll both die. Jungkook wants to be yours anyway.

OT7/Mulpitple Members

lavender lover @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Taehyung broke all his rules for Jimin, even when it hurt.

Seokjin

chivalry @out-of-jams

summary: And they say chivalry is dead.

burn after reading @raplinesmoon

summary: The agency made the biggest mistake they ever could by trusting Kim Seokjin one more time. You weren’t going to do the same.

Yoongi

exitus acta probat @/bang-tan-bitches

summary:  “All you need to know is that my name is Yoongi and you’re mine now.”

beloved ^

summary: Court was just a game of politics after all. And you intended to win

the mark of yun-ki @/ladyartemesia

summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir… but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

romancing the tome @/kpopfanfictrash

summary: Min Yoongi is many things: renowned archaeologist, versatile hat-wearer, on a bit of an unlucky streak with his work and kind of an ass. What he isn’t is fluent in Latin. Meaning, Yoongi can’t quite determine if he’s being led astray on his most recent archaeological expedition. Enter you, cultural linguist and all-around badass. The goal? Treasure. The means? Your teensy, tiny car. The problem? Min Yoongi is so damn annoying, you might just kill him first.

be my baby [SMAU] @/kimnjss

summary: when the love of his life suddenly vanishes, he drives himself mad looking for her. seemingly erased from the world, he’s forced to pick up the pieces of his life and move on… fast forward three years and someone who looks a lot like the woman he lost is being spotted, holding a kid with an oddly familiar gummy smile…

too easy @sweetestofchaos

summary: Yoongi’s sugar baby really wants that new Zimmermann dress

blackthorn ^

summary: Prince Yoongi and Princess Keena have been friends for as long as they can remember. But finding out they’re promised to one another in marriage isn’t the only obstacle they must overcome as war threatens their home.

stop thinking about me @/yoongiphoria

summary: there's only one person he thinks about with that song.

Hoseok

hot and bothered @sahmfanficbts

summary: You’re hot and bothered and your lawn needs some TLC. Enter: Hoseok with his big lawn-mower.

Namjoon

promise @joheunsaram

summary: Namjoon has always been in the periphery of your friend group, but when you meet the cute boy he doesn’t make the best first impression, or second, or third…

Jimin

renegade @/yoongiphoria

summary: is it insensitive for me to say get your shit together, so i can love you?

Taehyung

new flame @/gimmethatagustd

summary: Flame is a dating app designed for omegas and alphas to find heat and rut partners. You’re skeptical of using the app, not anticipating that you might find someone who is more than just a new flame.

enfer @/out-of-jams

summary: Enfer, the ironically named club, was well known for helping to bring together those of the living with the dead, well, undead. And your best friend had convinced you to try it out, to potentially find a partner amongst the sophisticated group of the otherworldly elite. You’d been open to it. But never would you have imagined meeting him.

stranger danger ^

stress relief @joonsmagicshop

summary: Taehyung gives you an offer you can’t refuse

Jungkook

none :(

OT7/Multiple Members

cosmic collision @/gimmethatagustd

summary: A responsible weedman, Yoongi always tests out new marijuana strains before selling them to his customers. When his supplier offers him a new strain, Cosmic Collision, Yoongi is eager to try it. What he doesn’t expect is the alien that comes with it.

accidental texts (hyung line) @ppersonna

accidental love confessions @kookiesjoonies

#jjungkookislife fic recs #jjungkookislife fic rec list #jjungkookislife masterlist fic recs