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calethescammer · 5 months

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One of my favourite brain rotting tcf ideas is Cale having some tremor disorder. Basically, he has hands that randomly tremble without any reason.

It may be genetic to him, or he developed it as Cale because of not eating his meals properly and inevitably developing some vitamin deficiency.

Now comes the best part.

Imagine Cale, perhaps in some really gruesome battle, with blood of enemies and allies mixed around him. Imagine his family seeing Cale's stoic face, wondering how a person so young can be so brave, and then they see his hands shaking under his raven coat, even as they're curled tightly into a fist.

Imagine Cale looking at Jour's portrait, admiring her beauty and her alike face with his own. But then his family sees him, his gaze fixated on his mother's image and his hands trembling slightly.

Imagine him, standing at the forefront of some battle with his shields raised, with his hands trembling uncontrollably, even though he is not straining himself. The people protected under him can only tear up at his selflessness.

Imagine Cale after attacking the enemies with a wave of firebolts, but his hands again started shaking badly, even if he has them covered under his sleeves. His family misunderstands that as Cale hiding his pain.

Imagine Cale, resting on a couch after some battle, and when Raon, On and Hong excitedly climb upon his lap, he only smiles slightly and pats them with his trembling hands. The kids then worriedly inform Ron of this and Cale recieves sweet lemon tea for a whole week.

Imagine Cale talking about territory matters with Alberu, and Alberu is once again amazed by his dongsaeng's witty and almost experienced approaches to problems like war. But then he sees Cale's hands shaking while holding the tea cup, and he realises how absolutely not normal it is to not be nervous in such a situation. (Alberu later pledges to himself to give Cale the slacker life he always wished for.)

Just imagine Cale in any situation with trembling hands and it literally creates the most hilarious misunderstandings with some really wonderful angst.

#I'm absolutely gonna write this in whole later #it also helps you realise how much Cale is used to stuff that he shouldn't be used to #and the fact that no one in his family questions it. and just. goes along with it.#its really funny till you realise how traumatised this guy is #genuinely one of my most favourite brainrots to daydream about #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #cale henituse #tcf #lcf #tcf novel #tcf prompt #kim rok soo

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hwaightme · 11 months

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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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windvexer · 3 months

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When one says engage in the help of Allie’s , what does that mean? Do you like ask every thing in a spell to help you?

Yes, the way I tend to work magic, I personally ask everything in the spell to help me.

Here is a spell format that explains this technique in more detail.

For me this is really helpful because it makes me think about what I'm doing.

Like if I can say, "Vinegar, you destroy what is unclean; you prevent decay; you preserve purity; you are a carrier for power - host now the virtues of Lemon, and let your powers mingle,"

Then I know what the hell the vinegar is for, right? At least what it's for within this self-contained little spellzone.

But also, the language involved is kind of intense, right? (Because all this is about making a realllly strong cleanser).

So imagine the potential differences in a cleansing formula between these two types of language:

"Lemon, you who burns with acid touch, you who bleaches with your whiplash tongue, you who eats through mineral and metal, flow now like a torrential flood on the back of Vinegar; become a liquid deluge. Strip this space with the acid of your flesh and cause it to become Barren."

"Lemon, you who are famed as the housekeeper's friend! Join now with Vinegar to become a pool of blessed cleanser, to gently ease stains and purify the home, to bring the light of your yellow flesh as warm as the sun, and to make this place wonderful."

So I don't even have to sit down with a whole polished spell in mind, I can really just talk to the ingredients and ask them to show certain of their faces, or show up with certain attitudes, to help with whatever is at hand.

Yeah IMO there are a lot of benefits to this style of working with correspondences (or as I call it, engaging the help of allies) and I think it works great!

#answered

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francesminos-tt · 1 year

Text

An outlined sequel to this

The actual fic is here

Aemond hates Lucerys and his bastard son. He mocks them, spreading vile accusations, smashing Lucerys’s plan to marry another high-born alpha. Meanwhile, Aemond gradually grows close to the bastard, Laenor, who has a striking resemblance of Lucerys as a child. Laenor likes to read, is fascinated by dragons but sadly doesn’t have one and diligently attends all training sessions. Aemond couldn’t help but see himself in the little boy. A boy with Lucerys’s look and Aemond’s character.

Aemond has his suspects, but every time he wonders if Laenor might be his son, he talks himself out of it. How could Laenor be his son? How could Lucerys love a son that is half Aemond with such devotion? Aemond is confused. He is supposed to hate Lucerys for taking his eye, but why his anger boils and his heart hurts when he learns Lucerys is being attacked by an angry mob? Aemond is even more confused when Laenor tries to tame Seasmoke, though the boy succeeds, he is badly injured so the stress triggers his presentation.

Aemond could smell the mix of sea salt, lemon, leather, peppermint and old parchment. He could smell himself and Lucerys on the boy. He knows.

When the boy cries for his alpha sire, despite Lucerys’s protests, Aemond hugs them with all he can. He realizes he never hates Lucerys. He loves the omega just like the omega loves him. He doesn’t care if Laenor was born out of wedlock. He would wed Lucerys ten times over if that means he could have the omega for all eternity.

Meanwhile, it turns out that Aemond is not the only one who still wants to fight. Despite Otto’s unexpected death, the Hightowers managed to reserve most of their troops by bending the knee to Queen Rhaenyra without a fight. Now, five years later, as the ice on the Honeywine finally melts away, they are ready to strike again,

The Northerners have festered King’s Landing, the new Hightower lord would say, we are outnumbered, both in terms of men and dragons.

What do we do? The late king’s youngest alpha son, the dutiful Daeron asks.

We wait. The wolves will have to go back to their lair eventually. Once the capital is at its most vulnerable, we strike. The lord answered.

Daeron nods. And what of me?

You will go to King’s Landing, collecting allies, breaking down the enemy from within.

So Daeron goes. He attends the celebrating tourney as the mystery knight. He defeats all his opponents, the most difficult one being the Queen’s third son, Joffrey. The Queen welcomes her youngest brother, and Daeron proceeds to do what he was told.

He smuggles moon tea into Aegon’s drink, preventing his omega brother to conceive. He approaches Aemond, relaying conspiracies from Old Town. Jacaerys would grow impatient for lacking of an heir, and Aemond would gladly join in the rebellion for he loves his mother and he hates Lucerys.

But the wise lord miscalculates three things. First, Jacaerys remains loyal and caring for his omega. After some efforts and a miracle, Aegon gets pregnant. Second, Aemond refuses to be a pawn again. He has a mate and a son to protect now. Third, Daeron falls in love with Joffrey, the most feral and strong beta he ever knew. He confesses and proposes to lead the attack on Old Town if only the Queen could spare his mother.

Rhaenyra agrees but insists they go south together. Because the house of dragons is most formidable united, the Queen says.

#lucemond #aemond x lucerys #aemond targaryen #lucerys velaryon #jacegon #joffron #abo dynamics #secret child

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babygirltangerine · 8 months

Text

i think the bullet train as a space with rules and boundaries that shift and change is really interesting. it’s a very dangerous place, obviously, because it's teeming with contract killers with conflicting missions and nobody knows the truth of the situation, etc., but it is also sometimes framed as a safe space or the safer option with the outside world being even more dangerous. and within the train there are spaces that are safer still, and then even more dangerous. the bathroom for example is a safe space where ladybug can hide away and talk to maria, reflect on what he knows and gain new information, and the momomon car becomes a sort of halloween funhouse that's ominous and otherworldly and extremely dangerous and disorienting for tangerine as he reels from the perceived loss of lemon and the changed rule that open killing is now permitted.

the boundary of inside/outside the train is also very thin and many characters find themselves on both sides of it throughout the journey. i've spoken about this before, but having the characters trapped on the train sometimes and willingly getting back on the train other times does a great job of building tension and keeping the audience on our toes while also doing a lot of really important character work. the fact that tangerine and ladybug both voluntarily get back on the train when they don’t Have to (and that tangerine has to fight so hard to do it!) shows the legitimate depth of ladybug's compassion and the strength of tangerine's devotion to lemon. also, the white death's power to police this inside/outside boundary, with his goons and the threat of his rage being a primary reason the characters are trapped in the first place, actualize and foreshadow the complete influence he has over the plot and the characters and the train itself.

this boundary also helps provide relationship development. shigeru getting on the train to help yuichi in the final act shows how much he cares about his son despite the friction we’ve seen between them up until this point. and tangerine and ladybug are shown flying violently out of the train in their fight and having to claw their way back on, and later they move in synch as they glance at each other and then run back onto the train, from enemies to allies almost immediately, and then back to rivals when ladybug kicks tangerine off the train again.

i just find the train setting really interesting. it’s a public space in the most straightforward sense. societal pressures to to be quiet in the quiet car, to not take too long in the bathroom, and to not kill people, for instance, do a lot for the story. so i think it’s perfectly fitting at the end of the movie, when everything’s going to shit and the story we knew is crashing to its end, for the train to go off its tracks and the inside/outside boundary to get ripped right open. the destruction of the train is a great symbol for the end of the mission and freedom from the restrictions it imposed on the characters. still pissed it had to fuck up that town though

#the train is its own character #and i love it #bullet train #tangerine #ladybug #lemon #shigeru kimura #yuichi kimura #the white death #meta #bullet train 2022

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fandomanimatic-tournament · 9 months

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The Bracket is Finally Here!

Spotify playlist with (almost) all songs in the tournament

Remember you can leave propaganda for any of these songs in the ask box both before and during the polls

(The image kinda smushed it all together but there's a written version at the bottom)

Written matches under the cut:

(Parenthesis on the song title: Additions to the title or other titles commonly used for the song in animations and animatics) ([blank]: a placeholder for a word that might variate in the title according to the animatic, usually a character's name)

Bracket 1, Side A:

You'll be back - Hamilton Musical VS. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing - Set it Off

I cut myself (shaving) - Talkshow Boy VS. Curses - The Crane Wives

Kiss Me, Son of God - They Might Be Giants VS. Open Up Your Eyes - My Little Pony: friendship is magic

Your Stupid Face - Kaden MacKay VS. Ready as I'll ever be - Tangled the series

Sincerely, Me - Dear Evan Hansen Musical VS. Promiseland - MIKA

Wine Red - The Hush Sound VS. Once Upon a December - Anastasia (Movie)

Everything at Once - Lenka VS. Little Miss Perfect - Written by Joriah Kwamé

Good for you - Dear Evan Hansen Musical VS. Never love an Anchor - The Crane Wives

Cupid - Jack Stauber VS. The other side - The Greatest Showman Musical

Eight Wonder - Lemon Demon VS. How bad can I be? - The Lorax (Movie)

Just Take My Wallet - Jack Stauber VS. Blue Lips - Regina Spektor

Baby Hotline - Jack Stauber VS. Tongues and Teeth - The Crane Wives

Poison - Cavetown VS. I'm the Bad Guy - Wonder Over Yonder / Caleb Hyles cover

Partners in Crime - Set It Off VS. It's tough to be a God - The Road to El Dorado (Movie)

Are You Satisfied? - MARINA VS. Brave as a Noun - AJJ The Band

Me, you and Steve - Garfunkel and Oates VS. Oh No! - MARINA

Bracket 1, Side B:

It took me by Surprise - Maria Mena VS. Father - The Front Bottoms

Hayloft - Mother Mother VS. When You're Evil - Voltaire

I Know I'm a Wolf - Young Heretics VS. Ordinary - Written by Joriah Kwamé

Anything you can do - Annie Get Your Gun Musical VS. Left Brain, Right Brain - Bo Burnham

Christmas Kids - Roar VS. I Know Those Eyes / This Man is Dead - Thomas Borchert

The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid VS. Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

Turn the Lights off - Tally Hall VS. Boys will be Bugs - Cavetown

Ghosting - Mother Mother VS. Villain - Stella Jang

Defying Gravity - Wicked Musical VS. Soldier, Poet, King - The Oh Hellos

Crossing the Line - Tangled the Series VS. Runs in the Family - Amanda Palmer

Everybody Talks - Neon Trees VS. Under My Skin - Jukebox The Ghost

Saint Bernard - Lincoln VS. Line Without a Hook - Ricky Montgomery

The History of Wrong Guys - Kinky Boots Musical VS. Order Made ([blank]'s Order Made) - RADWIMPS

Charlie's Inferno ([blank]'s Inferno) - That Handsome Devil VS. Lemon Boy - Cavetown

Ultimately - Khai Dreams VS. Who Are You, Really? - Mikky Ekko

The Zombie Song - Stephanie Mabey VS. When He Sees Me - Waitress Musical

Bracket 2, Side A:

Interlude IV - Zach Callison VS. Honey, I'm Home - GHOST

Little Lion Man (Not your fault) - Mumford & Sons VS. Confrontation - Jekyll and Hyde, the Gothic Musical Thriller

The Other Side of Paradise - Glass Animals VS. I Won't Say (I'm in Love) - Disney's Hercules

El Muchacho de los Ojos Tristes - Jeanette VS. Feelings are Fatal - Mxmtoon

The Religion of Loneliness (Lonely Religion) - Syudou VS. Ikanaide - Soraru and Mafumafu

The Killing Kind - Marianas Trench VS. Touch-Tone Telephone - Lemon Demon

A Good Song Never Dies - Saint Motel VS. Achilles Come Down - Gang Of Youths

If you were gay - Avenue Q Musical VS. My R ([Blank]'s R) - KurageP / cover by Rachie

Stray Italian Greyhound - Vienna Teng VS. No Children (I hope we both die) - The Mountain Goats

I can't decide ([Blank] can't decide) - Scissor Sisters VS. OO is a receiver ([Blank] is a receiver) - Ura Commander-P

A Sadness Runs Through Him - The Hoosiers VS. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring

Dr Sunshine is Dead - Will Wood and the Tapeworms VS. A Crow's Trial (A [blank]'s Trial) - Vane

The Riddle - Scarlett Pimpernel Musical VS. Crush - Tessa Violet

Be Nice To Me - The Front Bottoms VS. My Ordinary Life - The Living Tombstone

Sweet Talk - Saint Motel VS. I do adore - Mindy Gledhill

I wish you liked girls - Abbey Glover / I wish you liked boys - Cover by Jasper Isaac VS. Like Real People Do - Hozier

Bracket 2, Side B:

Stronger Than You - Steven Universe VS. Hurts Like Hell - Fleurie

Emperor's New Clothes - Panic! at the Disco VS. Butch 4 Butch (Sweetheart's Piano) - Rio Romero

Two Birds - Regina Spektor VS. Amnesia Was Her Name - Lemon Demon

Love Like You - Steven Universe VS. Escapism - Steven Universe

Everything Stays - Adventure Time VS. This day Aria - My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic

My Whole Family ([blank]'s Whole Family think they're gay) - Bo Burnham VS. Popular - Wicked Musical

The Bro Duet - Written by Alexander Sage Oyen VS. Cabinet Man - Lemon Demon

Self-inflicted Achromatic - Nekobolo VS. Welcome To The Internet - Bo Burnham

The Moon Will Sing - The Crane Wives VS. Dream Sweet in Sea Major - Miracle Musical

What is This Feeling? - Wicked Musical VS. There! Right there! (Is [blank] Gay or European?) - Legally Blonde the Musical

Goodbye (Look who's inside again) - Bo Burnham VS. This is Home - Cavetown

Pad Thai - Jack Stauber VS. How Far We've Come - Matchbox 20

The Mind Electric - Miracle Musical VS. The Nowhere King - Centaurworld

Rät - Penelope Scott VS. Therefore You and Me - TadanoCo / E ve cover

Fish in a Birdcage - Fish in a Birdcage VS. Devil's Train - The Lab Rats

The Game of Life - Yuzuhico VS. Dust and Ashes - Natasha, Pierre & the Great Comet of 1812 Musical

#please correct me if there's any mistakes!!#fandom animatic tournament #tournament info #tumblr tournament #tumblr tourney #tumblr poll #bracket tournament

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atopvisenyashill · 9 months

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i think there’s a really easy workaround for dany’s infertility and it’s that she should just do what i did in my silly female line post and pick the houses that have a female line claim and reach out to them. i think it shows very clearly that she’s not thinking about the good of westeros but only of her claim to westeros because while she thinks frequently of her infertility she doesn’t ever think about what the hell happens because of it.

and i hate the “dany’s infertility is a metaphor for her not thinking of the future” bc it’s ableist as all hell but it’s exactly the sort of thing that would appeal to george and i think it’s correct (same way the “bran the broken” nonsense is ableist but unfortunately correct foreshadowing). she could easily work around it by naming an heir through the female targ line!

a) it gets her allies in westeros and for all that she’s constantly thinking about going home she doesn’t try to reach out to any of the lords at all. her whole focus is on an army, not on making connections.

b) it might make her female line claim more palatable to the lords, if she can get a few on her side bc they have a similar (albeit way more distant) female line claim as well that might get their house on the iron throne

c) she can also make the argument that robert is doing the exact same shit bc the maesters used his grandmother rhaella targaryen’s marriage to ormund baratheon as proof of why he gets the iron throne. if he can claim female line inheritance, surely she can get fancy with it as well?

but none of this ever occurs to her. she doesn’t even show an interest in learning about westeros once she has power. when she meets barristan she doesn’t wonder at all about why he’s hesitant to talk of her family. she doesn’t ask jorah for more information on why aerys & rhaegar were overthrown. she knows viserys was delusional yet doesn’t ever attempt to unlearn anything he taught her. the smallfolk praying for viserys’ return is silly but for her it makes sense because she’s the mother of dragons - except the last time dragons existed in Westeros the smallfolk slaughtered them because they were constantly used to subjugate and terrorize people! why would they want her dragons back? why would they see her any differently than meleys blackfyre, a foreign invader with a foreign army threatening to upend their way of life?? her thoughts of westeros center on finding the red door and the lemon tree. it’s all about what westeros can do for her, that westeros can love her and give her a home, but she never thinks about how to make them love her! she just assumes it’s a given and it’s why i think she’s going to fail.

#i should have an ableism tag too bc there’s. so much.#anti daenerys targaryen #dark dany #anti targ restoration #getting on my soap box #i’m on asos rn

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deus-and-the-machina · 6 months

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MCYT Yuri week - day 5, rare pair

day late for @mcyt-yuri-week but it's okay. I dedicate this one to my friend @rachelsquill because I know she really likes this pairing :D yadda yadda its on ao3 please go kudos and comment if you can.

Gem had been looking to the end of the week every day now. Her special guest, fellow princess Katherine, was coming over for tea and pastries and she was bursting at the seams.

The other empires were lovely, sure, but they weren’t always on the same wavelength. From the moment she’d met Katherine, she’d known that their princess personas would get along swimmingly. Both of them valued nature, aesthetically pleasing builds, and pretty dresses. It didn’t hurt that Katherine was clearly strong, her well toned arms laid bare with her strapped dress.

Gem could usually handle herself, but this princess character wasn’t really a fighter. Having not only a fellow princess, but an ally who could be her knight in shining armor, well that was a tempting prospect.

The day of their meeting, Gem went about her house getting things in order. Usually the small sun forged creatures she’d created to populate Dawn would help tidy things up, but she wanted to do it herself today just to make sure things were exactly in place.

Dusting off chairs, placing tablecloths and setting the table, she did it all. But the best part of it all was the baking. While several kettles were set on the stove to boil (because you could never have enough), she opened the large tome of a cookbook gifted to her by Sausage and decided to follow a poppy seed lemon bread recipe. It had a honey glaze on top, and Gem could think of no better gesture to show off the primary resource of her empire.

It was a surprisingly soothing process. Gem stirred the batter while humming, thinking of potential conversation topics. Perhaps Katherine would want to talk trade or economics? Trade maybe, but no definitely not economics. Katherine did not have the air of one interested in such matters. They could discuss combat, but Gem’s character wasn’t meant to have any interest in such things.

She was sure she’d figure something out. Conversations were best when they were natural, after all.

The bread was placed in the oven, then topped with the glaze, then placed on the windowsill. It was ten minutes til, and Gem scuffled about to get everything ready. The table was outside, but close to the door of her house so she could easily make the trip to the kettle. The little round table covered with a sun print tablecloth was decorated with a tasteful vase, teacups on platters next to small plates for the poppy seed bread, yellow napkins with orange stripes at the borders, and a small bowl of tea bags in the center. There were several kinds available. Gem figured it would be fun to rummage around in the bowl for a bit, searching for one’s favorite kind.

Before she knew it, the time was upon her. Princess Katherine strolled into Dawn chipper as ever. She carried a basket on one arm, which she extended to Gem in greetings. “Thank you so much for inviting me! It’s just some flowers, but hopefully they’ll make for some nice dyes, or just decoration!”

Gem smiled back and thanked her profusely before leading her to the table. “So!” she began, heart in her throat. “Katherine. What have you been up to lately?” A bit casual, but personal.

She bounced her foot, seemingly in excitement. “Oh, it’s been great! Actually,” she looked around conspiratorially. “You remember what I told you about my secret?”

“Your monster hunter one? Yes I remember.”

“Shhh! Not so loud!” Katherine couldn’t help but giggle even as she said it. “Well…I was thinking that it’s maybe not such a good idea for me to be going out by myself so often, you know?” She peeled off a glove to show Gem her hand. There was a rather long cut on the back of it. It was mostly healed now, but the edges looked puckered, as if it would scar.

Concern pooled in her stomach. “Did a creature do that?”

“No actually, I scraped my hand on a tree branch.”

“Oh. Wait, why would that make you ask for help?”

She fiddled with the glove, looking down. “Because it happened when I wasn’t watching myself! It can be really dark, and natural dangers can be just as annoying as monstrous ones.” With a sigh, Gem reached forward and took Katherine’s hand in hers. Her genuineness was endearing.

“May I?” she asked. Katherine nodded, a faint blush creeping up her face. Gem placed a kiss on the back of her hand, right on the scratch. She held contact for a moment, then pulled away. “I can’t actually kiss it away, but let's hope that helped!” Nailed it! She thought giddily.

“Still, I don’t understand why you’d come to me. I’m not really a fighter…”

Katherine tilted her head. “You’re not? Could’ve fooled me. You have such strong arms…I’ve seen you lift super heavy boxes before!”

Sheepishly, Gem smiled. “Ahaha well, I have done a bit of lifting in my time. But fighting? Not really.”

“I could teach you then!” Katherine exclaimed. “I’m sure having a princess of Dawn fight alongside me at night would be just swell.”

Man. Gem really wanted to commit to the character, she did! But running around killing monsters with Katherine at night, especially if she also got to help protect her, sounded like an awful good time. Twiddling her thumbs, she thought about how to spin this. “You know,” she began. “I do recall a few sword fighting lessons from my youth…” and also from last Thursday. When I put Etho flat on his back on Hermitcraft.

Beaming at her, Katherine grabbed both of her hands. “That’s perfect! We can start there. I’ll have an ax, you’ll have a sword and we can be a monster fighting duo!”

Flushing, Gem nodded eagerly. “Looking forward to it!”

#empiresshipping #kathgem #mcytyuriweek2023

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freakyzoids · 1 month

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random simon “ghost” riley hcs because i’m mentally unwell about this man

he doesn’t wear his mask all the time. at least the one he wears in the field. usually when on base or at home, he will wear a simple balaclava (still with the skull print) or a black surgical/face mask. this is mostly to keep his anonymity but has also become a comfort and a way for him to choose who he let’s see the real him. (before anyone asks, no he doesn’t sleep or shower with it on. the only time he sleeps with the mask is if he’s out in the field and has to share a tent with someone. otherwise it comes off.)

because he wears a mask so often, ghost keeps gum, mints, hard candies, etc on him at all times. this is both to keep his mouth from drying out and to keep his breath fresh. it also acts as a way to curb his need for a cigarette.

(he also has a massive sweet tooth, especially for sour or bitter tasting things. he doesn’t really like fruit flavored candy and instead prefers the real thing. though he does make an exception for lemon or sour cherry flavored sweets.)

speaking of cigarettes, ghost doesn’t actually smoke too often. he will occasionally (mostly smoking with price during breaks), but tends to keep away from them. it’s mostly a way to help him cope with stress. you can tell when he’s really stressed by an increase in his smoking habits.

yes he does go to therapy. he has a lovely therapist that he meets with regularly. he prefers in person visits as it allows him more privacy to fully open himself up, but if he’s really desperate he’ll do a phone or video visit. these mostly happen when he’s deployed.

in terms of relationships, ghost doesn’t actively seek them out. this is due to a multitude of reasons, but many stem from his active duty as a soldier. he’s seen a lot of people come and go in his life, and he’s seen the aftermath of what happens when a spouse or partner is left behind. he doesn’t want to risk putting someone through that trauma given how dangerous the missions he goes on are. however, if the right person came along, he might be willing to work through those feelings to be with them. though it would take a LONG time before he felt ready to do that.

he prefers judging people by their actions over their words. if you can prove yourself trustworthy and loyal to him, you will have an ally for life. breaking that trust will cause him to turn very hostile (ex: graves) towards the person. it is extremely difficult for him to forgive people and trust them again unless they show over a long span of time that they have actively changed for the better.

not a huge sport guy to be honest. he doesn’t like watching or playing sports too much besides watching the occasional soccer match with the rest of the 141. he prefers spending his rec or time off reading, listening to music, or playing board/card games. he’s the reason why there’s a ton stockpiled on base. his favorite games are strategy based like catan, risk, and chess. (he also loves mousetrap but mostly because he loves watching soap get pissed at getting trapped.)

sleeps like the fucking dead. when he’s out, he’s OUT. there is no waking this man after he falls asleep. moves around a lot when he sleeps too. has definitely woken up on the floor because he rolled over too far in the middle of the night. also talks in his sleep and says the most batshit insane things that leave his bunk mates fearing for their lives and sanity.

he does the autism thing where if someone asks him to do something, he’ll say “no” and do it anyways. it confuses a lot of people at first when he does it.

is actually a really great cook. he has a collection of recipe books at his flat back home that he will try different recipes from often. he saves his favorites in a little binder along with any notes he’s jotted down (like modifications for his own taste, things to pair with it, etc.) he will cook for the 141 if they ask him to.

#clown.txt #simon riley #simon ghost riley #cod mw #ghost headcanons #i could add so much more but yeah :]#holds him gently like a pudgy bird #he is very autism to me

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gotta-pet-em-all · 4 months

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Okay so. Apparently. Mr. Siebold has not actually encountered Team Break before and underestimated them. He says there were five members at least, they attacked him in the kitchen, and he's glad I enjoyed his cooking but the batch I ate definitely needed more acidity to bring out the seasoning.

Sir. I get that you are artistic and eccentric about your food but have you considered maybe bringing more people for backup on your boat than just the one teenager who wants to learn from you?

Anyways. I cut both of them loose; turns out they were being held in the space above the storage. The hatch is jammed, and I can't get up there or even get a pokeball through the gap, but I managed to fit a knife up there.

The teen says his name is Calem, and team Break took his espurr. Siebold got his clauncher taken as well. They were, uh. Very surprised to see me there, and may have tried to attack me at first because they thought I was with Team Break?

So yeah, I've got two allies here, we're going to maintain the element of surprise for a little while longer and then coordinate our attack. I have never seen a man look so threatening when talking about attacking people with lemon juice and hot sauce.

#rotomblr #pokemon irl #pokeblogging #pasio arc #lost at sea arc #mid stakes pokeblogging

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love-takes-work · 11 months

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Infloresce & Friends: Charity Festival benefiting the Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective

I attended the wonderful charity stream for aivi & surasshu’s first anniversary of their label Infloresce, benefiting Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective. It was a lovely time and included many special guest appearances, including (of special interest to some of my blog readers) Rebecca Sugar and Jeff Ball of Steven Universe fame and aivi & surasshu themselves. Here is an overall outline of the content of the TWELVE HOURS of streaming, including details about all of the performances! And if you’re interested in further supporting the Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective, you can choose your donate option here.

This is a twelve-hour streamed charity event to benefit Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective, put on in honor of Infloresce's one-year anniversary. Infloresce is aivi & sursshu's record label for "gentle music that goes hard." With nine releases in the last year among their handful of musicians, largely populated by gender expansive and trans folks, are supporting the trans community with this event.

1. Breakfast Friends - Waffle Talk

This opening panel included discussion of trans community, the beauty of realizing how many people are queer in your community, music, and morning routines. aivi shares what's different about their morning routine because they have a child. Includes an interview with Evelina Kertay, a founding member and leader of Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective, who shared information about fighting anti-queer laws on the ground without depending on the structures of the oppressor.

She says it's very important for allies to be willing to put skin in the game and accept risk. Her message to trans people is that past liberation movements and queer elders can show us the way--it's a fight that's been fought before. (Also, ACAB and fuck ICE.) CTLC helps people access trans-friendly medical care, name changes, and escaping hostile situations.

2. Oops! All Bangers. Trans and Non-Binary Radio

With a quirky introduction about the Dunmucky Method of music-making involving a dollhouse as an illustration, we then get some bangers from various trans and nonbinary artists, played over rad videos of trans and nonbinary people from the south skating:

Featuring the following:

telebasher - "Savior"

Zantilla - "Lemon Pepper"

JER - "You Can Get It If You Really Want"

Maddie Lim - "Mango Habanero"

Saria Lemes - "That's Not Candy"

mandrasigma - "Trinket"

FLOOR BABA - "PREHISTORY"

miles morkri - "yarrow"

Ponpoko in the Distance - "Ukijima"

3. Battle Buds: Team Composition Challenge

This was so cool! Six battlers "duking it out friendship style" make music inspired by locations in Chattanooga, each writing a piece in one hour. miles and surasshu discuss the history and process of compos. Compo communities started on IRC back in the day--sometimes 30-minute or 1-hour competitions where people would make compositions and vote on them. Surasshu has competed in hundreds of them. The composers use many different utilities to make their contributions. Throughout the stream, the hosts checked in with each composer and let them talk about their process and philosophy.

Composers and their compositions:

Hunter Van Brocklin - Cerulean Caverns

Frums - Rosebloom Ravine

Ash - Luminous Lagoon

M Gewehr - Groove Gardens

Maddie Lim - Bubble Bay

mandrasigma - Tangled Terrace

4. Button Masher Performance

After another fun Dunmucky intro and music lesson, we get a performance from chiptune composer and performer Button Masher.

5. Digifu Classic

We are treated to some lovely digifu pieces with cool visualizers.

6. Cass Cuttlefish Performance

With another music lesson in the Dunmucky Method ("Structure, Purpose, Vision!") leading off...

We have Aubrey Halo, aka Cass Cuttlefish, sharing some great music, including one that's "too fast to be a waltz." A couple of the songs have lyrics!

And we even get some cool pixel art from Aubrey.

Aubrey is now transitioning the previous “Cass Cuttlefish” social media to the Aubrey Halo name.

7. The Sandwich Club: Let's Talk About Games!

Next we have some folks talking about games and their contributions! Panel contributors were ChevyRay, Jessi, Ko, Hbomb, Isla, and SonicFox. They discuss experience as gamers, as developers, and as composers. They discuss what their first video games they remember playing, what video game characters are the hottest, whether Shadow the Hedgehog is cool, how much evil can a character do before they're irredeemable, and how to avoid burnout and burnout experiences.

8. Floor Baba Performance

A Muckyverse lesson teaches us about melody! Then Floor Baba takes the stage with a performance: We have MIDIs to jam to and accompanying cool art!

9. Maj7 Community Showcase

Very cool pieces by this collaboration between artists, accompanied by various inventive animations!

10. aivi & surasshu Performance

After another lovely and unhinged Dunmucky Institute music lesson, we get aivi & surasshu's set, opening with "Amalgam" from Steven Universe (Opal's fusion dance song). They then perform a cover of "Yuri on Ice." The next song, "Periphery," is from their upcoming album.

The promised “Love Like You” stream included the crowdsourced choir collected from Steven Universe fan contributions across the internet. 92 contributors sent in their voices! (Small brag: I was in there!)

11. Being a Trans Lawyer in the South

This section has an interview with a lawyer (who also skates!) named Alex Moody (they/them) discussing how laws affect trans and gender expansive people in Southern states, how Southern social movements work, and some of the necessities of playing nice with norms and expectations so we can get shit done. Learn legislators, bother them, make calls, access Mutual Aid where needed.

12. Battle of the Bits Listening Party

After a week-long battle with 69 entries, we get to listen to the top 11!

#11 blower5 - hi

#10 doctorn0gloff - the trials of blossoming

#9 telebasher - NEVER GIVE UP !!

#8 rewitkin - travel log

#7 robotmeadows - we used to run around and not get tired

#6 october - you and me 'til the world ends

#5 damifortune + slash - a chipped stylus

#4 paperaviator - just existing (in a good way)

#3 zenkusa - A Picnic at Twilight

#2 petet - willow

#1 pedipanol - Together

There were also individual awards in the categories of Friendship, Community, Trans Rights, Inflorescence, Charity in Pants, Overall. Very cool.

13. miles morkri Performance

We get another set of instructions to teach us about the Dunmucky method, and then we're on to see miles morkri! This performance has some great vibes with miles singing and playing. I loved this one!

14. STAFFcirc Community Showcase

STAFFcirc composers have their pieces featured with more stunning visuals.

15. Rebecca Sugar & Jeff Ball Performance

Another music lesson teaches us about texture in the Dunmucky Method. And then, we get Rebecca Sugar and Jeff Ball sharing a special performance!

They begin with a guitar and violin duet of "Everything Stays."

Next we are treated to the full version of "Change Your Mind," and then "Love Like You," and finally "Escapism."

It was so special to get to hear Rebecca performing again. I missed seeing performances like this.

16. The Ice Cream Social: Let's Talk About Toys!

miles, aivi, Loni, mandrasigma, and Marcie have a chat about toys, with a big focus on Hot Wheels. They discuss what everyone's favorite toys were as children. Character cars look like taxidermy to aivi. They have started collecting Hot Wheels cars after having a child who is obsessed with cars.

As an incentive to get to $10,000 on the donations, mandra offered to show a "cursed" Toad-inspired Hot Wheels car. And it happened. (And it was cursed.)

17. telebasher & amimifafa Performance

Another visit from the Dunmucky Institute later, we get some wonderful melancholy, chill music from telebasher & amimifafa collaborating.

18. Infloresce Records Community Showcase

Infloresce artists have their pieces compiled and showcased with more wonderful music videos and visualizers!

19. Zantilla Performance

Lesson 9 from the Dunmucky Institute provides an interlude, and then we get a performance from artist Zantilla. Metal guitar-led music with visuals of the artist going hard jamming out on guitar.

20. Moonlit Vibes: Trans & Non-Binary Radio

Yet more wonderful night-themed songs from trans and nonbinary artists, featuring more great skating videos, this time with a night palette tint. We got some cool stories about the meanings of the songs, the importance of leaving space in music, the despair some trans people feel and make art about, and how aivi ended up working with Zantilla.

Featuring the following:

Slide20XX - "thick as thieves"

amimifafa - "phytogenesis"

aivi (ft. Zantilla, Michaela Nachtigall) - "Tiger"

TV-MA - "I Want to See the Angels"

Isaac Shutz - "Summer Rain"

Lena Raine - "Full Moon Memories"

Siphosomes - "Canopy >> Stars"

paper aviator - "On Foot"

21. quarkimo Performance

Some beautiful night music closes us out with quarkimo playing candlelit piano.

22. Curtain Call: End of Stream Hangout

The Dunmucky Institute takes us to the exit of the stream, with a return of the dollhouse, and some very nice messages about the importance of making art.

With a final plug for the Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective, the organizers have a celebration that everything worked and nothing broke for the whole twelve-hour stream. There were lots of thank-yous and information about who contributed what. Much outpouring of gratefulness and love was had.

I did not initially intend to attend a TWELVE-HOUR STREAM but by gosh that’s what ended up happening. I care very much about trans rights, as a fellow Southern-state-liver who is watching the freedoms and safety getting scrubbed out of my communities at a frightening rate. Evelina Kertay of the Chattanooga Trans Liberation Collective was a WONDERFUL speaker and badass and I would have loved to hear way more from her, and I believe her trans-led organization is going to DO THE BUSINESS as we fight these laws and prejudices.

I’m really glad I attended.

#transgender #chattanooga trans liberation collective #aivi & surasshu #steven universe #rebecca sugar #infloresce #myblog

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queenpiranhadon · 2 months

Text

It's-a me with a new book series to hyper fixate on

So ehem I just finished the first book of the Inheritance Games (not adding it to my fandoms list until after I finish the series tho) and uh...

(spoilers below the cut)

BAHAHA XANDER WITH HIS SCONES I CAN'T- HE'S GONNA BECOME A POLITICIAN AND CREATE ENEMIES AND ALLIES SOLELY BY GIVING THEM BLUEBERRY OR LEMON SCONES HELP-

And the ending though?? Like I WANT Xander to go to Avery and work together because they both have crucial information but I also want him to get the recognition he deserves I will die on that hill.

Jameson seriously gives me Sirius Black + James Potter vibes (idk is that just me 😭). But like 👏🏾 do 👏🏾 not 👏🏾 treat 👏🏾 Avery like a piece in this big game, get over your dead ex and tell her you love her pls and thank you.

But like you know those videos about the best book boyfriends and their nicknames (idk maybe it's just me lmao) but like "Heiress" and "Mystery Girl" and "Cinderella" I'm squealing.

Grayson- okay there's a lot to him. I am in love with Avery's chemistry with Jameson but Grayson's chemistry with her is adorable too (in the first book at least). Like they start nerding out about statistics and probability like I want a man who will not only just judge me but join me as I overanalyze the implications of outfit, song, and set choices in movies or question the bounds of the universe and talk about the possibilities of the fourth dimension thank you very much.

But like, he has suffered a lot, even if nothing is really his fault, he takes it upon himself to blame himself because believes as the all-knowing Hawthorne he is responsible for everything. That being said, he could've been maybe less of an asshole in the beginning like man wdym by "you're injured and you will tell me why." like yes, that amount of dominance is attractive at certain moments but dude just leave the poor girl alone 😭

Nash I relate to on a spiritual level like oldest sibling, knows pretty much everything that his sibling are still trying to figure out, couldn't care less, doesn't care less, etc etc like join the club lmao. Obviously though, being in the Hawthorne family and having three extremely clever younger brothers all competitive in their own way, he's definitely felt undermined before and probably just stopped trying to be better. And I get that, even if I still try to be better than my own younger brother but he's just living his life, razzing up girls as one does lmao.

And his relationship with Libby...don't get me wrong, they're adorable together, like he's persistent in making sure she's secure and stable and his overprotectiveness is well...ehem he wants this things as they are lmaoo. But even so, I'm still a little wary about him because of his dating history but who knows maybe he'll prove me wrong.

Avery's so funny like first thing she thinks about when meeting any of the Hawthorne's (the grandsons I mean) is damn he's hot. And I mean after everything, I just love her, her reactions are on point, she's just trying to figure stuff out lmao.

I'm leaving my rant here uhm sorry for the essay heh

#the inheritance games #tig #nash hawthorne #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #alexander hawthorne #xander hawthorne #avery grambs #avery kylie grambs #alexander blackwood hawthorne #jameson winchester hawthorne #xander blackwood hawthorne #grayson davenport hawthorne #nash westbrook hawthorne #jennifer lynn barnes #i am the much needed publicist of alexander blackwood hawthorne and you can't tell me otherwise

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has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong · 1 year

Note

I saw requests are open was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing some NSFW head canon's for a soft dom Solomon x female master with dirty talk and foreplay. Also sorry if this is too many things but can you do NO penetrative sex please?

Hello anon, thanks for the request, that is perfectly okay! Sure, that's okay with me. So that's Solomon foreplay including dirty talk concept. I can do that. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for waiting for so long!! As for the Soft Dom part, that will focus on him giving a lot of praise and care to the master. I should warn you though, this may become full of angst, as well.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW Fanfic tagged as 'lemon fanfic'. Includes a lot of fluff and ANGST, soft dom(?) Solomon, FGO SPOILERS, dirty talk, fem! master character, outercourse and foreplay (no sex).

Solomon x Fem! Master NSFW (Foreplay, Soft Dom, Dirty Talk, A LOT OF ANGST!)

✰ Facing him at the apex of your journey; standing as two juxtaposing forces at the very precipice of the end, your meeting with Solomon is fraught with anticipation. With such a precious wreath of memories of his time fighting on behalf of the Chaldeas as Romani, to the lacerating pain that engulfed you with his final self-sacrifice.... to see him standing before you, right in the flesh- was like a dream.

✰ "I-is that really you...? Roma- Solomon?!" Rushing haphazardly through a mass of broken fragments floating lifelessly upon a realm that was unknown to either the world of man or gods- it stood an atelier that only you and he alone could access, cut off from the rest of the universe. Whether it was a dream, or possibly even a new reality was anybody's guess.

✰ As you gradually make your way towards him, crystallized tears frozen within the air; the solemn figure standing before you smiles wistfully as he turns to face you- his golden eyes burdened with a sense of suffering so deep and profound; carrying the truths of the world within their glistening depths.

✰ "...You've come a long way, to find me here; meeting me at the end of all realms of existence. If Romani was here, I'm sure he'd be glad." Within an instant, he materializes before you, his sun-kissed bronze hands lightly tracing themselves across your face, his expression taking on an unreadable hue. "Even if it was only for a short period of time, I was able to live as a human by your side. Thank you, Master of Chaldea."

✰ Bursting into tears at his words, you wrap your arms around him as your faces draw but a hair's breadth away from one another, breath misting upon another's faces as he gently wipes away your tears, kneeling down to support your fallen form. Though he reassures you that there's no need to cry, you can't help but wail, inconsolable gasps rippling through your body, as you press your forehead to his, desperate to rekindle any form of connection, to feel any sign of warmth.

✰ Romani, Solomon. You him, Mash and Da Vinci. The benevolent Doctor of Chaldea who had been a loveable goof, a massive Magi Mari simp and an invaluable ally to all... no, he was even more than just that to you. He was the one you held dear to your heart, committing every memory, every moment of his existence to mind. But now for you both to meet like this...it was certain that this was likely to be the last time you'd be able to hold onto him for a while.

✰ It seems as if Solomon is acutely aware of this as well. Despite seeming distant- as if the version of him you grew to love and adore in Chaldea is no more- his grip has yet to be loosened from your figure, his flowing locks of flaxen hair tickling your face. As his fingers absentmindedly rub circles into your cheeks, almost on instinct; his body recalling the movements of a part of him that may now possibly cease to exist.

✰ Taken aback by his familiar touch, and the nostalgia of having your chests pressed against one another; hearts beating in unison, you open your mouth to speak, to beg for him to return in some way, only for him to sadly shake his head.

✰ "My return isn't currently prophecies within the stars as of yet. However," He pauses, as his gleaming, ring-laden hands softly trace themselves over your lips, a tender hue entering his eyes, "If you are to oblige, then let me touch you. Let me feel you one last time, and embrace you like I did as when I was a human. Roman- no, I... I wish to commit how it felt to be with you to my mind, for one last final time." Although his words are resolute, his fingers tremble slightly, as his nonchalant mask finally begins to crumble.

✰ Lips locking in what feels like forever, the kiss is tender yet also bittersweet; the two of you savoring every moment, hungrily gasping for more as your form blossoms beneath him, kisses trailing down your neck, your eyes misting with a sense of longing. Oh how long it had been since the last time you had kissed! How deeply you craved for more!

✰ "You're beautiful. Sprawled before me with such need in your eyes... he surely must've felt blessed to have been by your side." Despite the indomitable nature of his words, his touch becomes even gentler; sinking down to fully embrace you as his robes flutter against the ground, spread out like a canopy of ancient paintings.

✰ Holding onto your waist for dear life, the two of you become entangled within a passionate cuddle; your limbs entwined between one another's as he begins to grind against you. As you whimper with bliss at how delectable it feels- and at how unfair it was to be delighting in a warmth that would soon be ripped from you, eventually to become naught but a fleeting memory; tears prickle at your eyes as you pull him back in to a passionate smooch, breaths quickening from the action.

✰ Mewling his name repeatedly- like a solemn prayer to the heavens- your body completely yields to his addictive touch, that tickles and rubs against your most vulnerable zones. You cared for him, yearned for him- so, so much. Desperately avoiding even spending a fraction of a second apart, your entire body clings onto his form as you warble words that bleed with love.

✰ "That's right. Hold on even tighter, so tightly that it becomes impossible to let go. Let me feel you in your entirety." He's also been entirely consumed by the moment, losing beneath tidal waves of passion, as well as ones of heart-wrenching melancholy.

✰ Continuing to rub his body against yours in a soothing circular motion, Solomon parts from by sucking onto your bottom lips as his gaze locks into yours- it's so deep and profound that it leaves you trapped, unable to look away.

✰ By this time, you're a sweaty mess- Chaldea uniform all crumpled, as your body fills with electrical tremors of desire, tingling with pleasure. To Solomon, such a sight is alluring- though a twinge of something so forlorn (that even he can't quite grasp it) lacerates his heart at seeing you so laid so emotionally bare before him.

✰ "...Despite overcoming numerous hurdles, you are still so precious, so fragile a human. Romani- I- no, I'm sorry that I was unable to see things through with you until the very end. I... I love... you." Sealing his hesitant vow with lips that softly regaled your forehead, your eyelids; every facet of your face, loose tears make their way down his face, his once steely golden eyes now a pool of melting amber.

What a sorrowful finale this was turning out to be.

#solomon fgo #fate series #romani archaman #gilgablog #gilgawriting #character x reader #fgo #fate grand order #fgo fanfic #fgo headcanons #well time for some feels. am i right or am i right.#fgo spoilers #ok this is not soft dom at all. this is the saddest lemon fic ive ever written. thanks im going to cry now

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theenpcbracket · 10 months

Text

Seeding Round: Poll 5

Image IDs included! Click the images to see the full character please!

More about each NPC below the cut!

Character Descriptions are in the order of their appearance in the poll!

Character 1

Name: Kevin Party: GATEGATE Relationship to party: Familiar, general menace

What makes them the best NPC: We used speak with animals on him one time and it was so funny we just decided he could talk the whole time. Canonically he's a familiar because he got arrested in the Feywild and this is his community service. He's not only useless but actively antagonistic to the party. He eats exclusively raw meat hand-rolled in birdseed and hates everyone. His sheer glee at seeing the rest of us miserable was powerful enough to protect us from the effects of the Shadowfell. His two attacks are (a) shitting on people and (b) necklace of fireballs. He is my horrible son and I love him very much. He gets consulted on every decision and his response is always some variation of (horrible screechy voice) "you're all stupid and I hope you die I'm going back to sleep".

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 2

Name: Mercurial Party: The Fosters Relationship to party: Friend, ally, strategist, arcane scientist

What makes them the best NPC: Mercurial is a drow divination wizard who loves his girlfriend and studying magic very much. He’s so incredibly anxious and semi-unintentionally goofy at all times, but he ultimately has a steel will and the determination to back it. His girlfriend and he helped lead a drow rebellion against the high elven monarchists, and they’re both currently elbows-deep in helping to set up a more equitable but still stable government to replace the emperor. He’s a skilled diviner and she’s an incredible tactician, so they’re incredible strategists.

He is both so incredibly cool and just some guy. He'll do just about anything you ask. Once, a PC told him to go get "as many lemons as [he could]" and he brought back hundreds. Every time we drop in on him, he ends up nervously making like, French toast or bruschetta or something. He’s also an incredibly competent wizard who is going for his arcane PhD. He got into biochemistry when one of our PCs (an old friend of his and his girlfriend’s) asked him to do some blood analyses. When he realized one of the party NPCs's blood would confirm a hypothesis he had but she wouldn’t give it to him, he (for the first time) used his unassuming and nervous demeanor to trick her into letting her guard down enough that he could stab, grab, and run like hell away with the blood. He talks like Eeyore. I love him so much.

Quote: "Wait, don't tell her, I don't want her to be more mad at me than she already is..." -Mercurial, after tricking the party NPC.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Character 3

Name: Selûne Party: THE FACE SMASHERZ! Relationship to party: Goddess of the moon, patron of paladin Sorbet Lemonbalm (Sorbet is her champion)

What makes them the best NPC: Do YOU want a base-game goddess taken to the next level? Are YOU a fan of big buff war veteran elves with moon-shaped tit windows? Do YOU want a polyamorous queen canonically married to her champion who also has a girlfriend ????

SELUNE SELUNE SELUNE !!!!

Selune in our game is more than just a base-game goddess. She's one of our prominent party gods, given that our campaign centers around godslaying and the power imbalances that follow. Top three Selune moments in our campaign are:

3. When she got summoned to help aid our party in a massive fight and ripped off her sleeves and hiked up her dress to beat the shit out of interlopers in one of her last temples. 2. That time she faked out her champion into thinking she was killing her in order to save a little baby Kobold from the Corruption with the last of her essence. And lastly... [drumroll] 1. THE TIME MID-FIGHT WITH THE FEY QUEEN WHEN SORBET, HER CHAMPION, GOT MADE INTO THE NEW SUMMER FEY KING AND THE FIRST THING SHE DID WAS PROPOSE TO SELUNE AND SHE SAID YES + BLESSED IT, THUS MAKING THE SUMMER COURT SELUNE'S BY POLITICAL MARRIAGE BECAUSE OUR GIRL SORBET HAD NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT TO DO WITH THIS NEW POWER (Also this broke our DM) (in a good way)

Vote Selune: Our Lady Silver, Fey-King Consort, and our Lover of Ladies ;)

Quote: "...She cherishes every star, on the ground and in the sky, no matter how great or small. I used to hear hearth stories growing up about Selune and her herd of celestial rams, always making sure she had every starry lamb accounted for each night..." - Sorbet, telling young kobolds about Selune

#seeding round #dungeons and dragons #dnd #d&d #dnd oc #dnd npc #ttrpg #pathfinder #powered by the apocalypse #indie ttrpg #dnd stuff #dnd character #character tournament #oc tournament #homebrew #dnd homebrew #d&d 5e #d&d 5e homebrew #polls

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indecentpause · 2 months

Text

Find the Word Tag

tagged by @space-writes to find the words fate, breathe, alive and leave

using the untitled Darcey and Jordan thing!

fate chance:

Jordan’s gaze darts over to Ally and she gives him a thumbs up and and mouths an over exaggerated, Good job. Jordan snorts softly, but he’s still smiling. And then Su-Hyun bounces from Jin over to Jordan, and she throws her arms around his shoulders from the side of the chair, and cheers, “I am so glad you’re coming with us!” And Jordan thinks, maybe he’s not so bad with kids after all. Maybe there’s a chance he won’t fuck it up. The whole bus ride back to work, Jordan keeps the little sock rabbit [Su-Hyun made] clutched tightly in one hand.

breathe:

By the time Darcey’s family has finished talking, Jordan’s about to vibrate out of his skin. The anxiety buzzes deep in his bones, constricts his chest, he can’t breathe he can’t breathe he can’t breathe— He sees the TV in in front of them. The yellow curtains. The ceiling fan above him. The little pride sticker on Lexi’s school bag, still in the corner. The video game consoles sitting neatly on the entertainment center. He feels the soft carpet underneath his socked feet. The slight itch of the inside line of the socks themselves. The fabric of the big chair brushing his arm. The slight draft coming in through the window that doesn’t close all the way. He hears the murmur of conversation on the other side of the kitchen door. The cars outside. A dog barking somewhere down the street. He smells the lavender cleanser Jess uses on everything. The lemon candle burning next to the TV. He tastes— Darcey and his family enter the room before Jordan can finish the exercise his therapist taught him, 5-4-3-2-1, but he’s mostly calmed down, now. He can breathe again, at least. It stutters a little, but he can breathe, and that’s still an improvement.

alive living:

“They said she’s your daughter. Does that timeline add up? Six years old?” “I.” Darcey’s knees go weak and he collapses against the door. His gaze darts around the living room, but they’re alone. Even Puff’s out of the room, sleeping in her favorite spot on the desk chair. “Where are they now?” “I got them a cab to the motel at the intersection across the highway,” Jordan stammers. “I couldn’t… I mean, even if they were lying, she was a little kid, I couldn’t just—“ Darcey shakes his head so hard he can almost feel his brain rattle. “No, you did the responsible thing. When did this happen?” “Just after 8:00.” “And you didn’t call?” “And say what, Darcey?” Jordan snaps back.

leave:

“I mean… fuck,” Darcey says softly. “I don’t even know how this happened. We were so careful.” He presses his cheek against Jordan’s head. “I think I’m still in shock. I think my brain still hasn’t processed it all yet.” He hugs Jordan closer. His hands are trembling much more than his usual tremor. “You’re not going to leave, right?” His voice is so small suddenly, so afraid, the Darcey Jordan first knew before Jordan started to pull him out of his shell. Jordan tightens his arms and says, “Sorry, man, you’re stuck with me.” Some of the stress in Darcey’s shoulders evaporates. The two men pull each other even closer, as close as they can without cutting each other open and crawling between each others’ ribs. Darcey doesn’t speak, but Jordan doesn’t need him to.

tagging @revenantlore @calicohyde @nonbinarynotetaker @devonscroob @buffythevampirelover to find the words: up, down, left, right, start, and select!

#writeblr #my writing #find the word tag #writeblr tag games #amwriting #excerpt #wip #jordan delgado #darcey walker #ally walker #su hyun kwan walker #two heartbeats on one page #holding our hearts in our hands

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