#you really are taking a helluva plunge
Text
So the writer's strike is over, now the actor's strike is over, and Netflix is punishing their fans and all the people who make their shows actually possible reacting to these oh-so-serious budget adjustments by arbitrarily axing five shows at once.
And if they want to play the 'woe is me, i just has no monies' card, cue their latest quarterly report:
Remember, kids, companies aren't allow to lie in their quarterly reports because that information is intended for their shareholders. They can lie to YOU all they want, but they go to Actual Prison if they lie to rich people.
Here's the link for the full article, if you care, which is backed up by many other reputable news sources if you want to get tetchy about it being from 'The Hollywood Reporter':
So all this to say, you good, 'Shadow and Bone' fandom? Rough times, getting invested in a Netflix show; we've all been there. Hope y'all are doing well <3
#netflix#shadow and bone#fandom solidarity#it was a good show#i wouldnt call myself a fan#but i enjoyed the show#and im sad itll be gone#why does netflix continuously kill its best stuff#authors who sign with them#beware#you really are taking a helluva plunge#betrayal#lies
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Doylist outlook on the Anakin & Council scenes during "The Phantom Menace"
About 4 years ago, I'm talking to an older friend of mine who grew up with the Original Trilogy.
He tells me that one of the disappointments of the Prequels, for him, is that the Jedi Knights had been built as these "Knights of the Round Table" and, instead, what his generation got was "monks who'll pick on a 9-year-old for being afraid".
Which makes sense in a story about their corruption and downfall, but he'd have preferred to root for them, see them in their heyday.
And, like, I agreed.
I didn't necessarily feel they were picking on him when I watched the scene as a child, my takeaway from that scene was the "fear leads to anger" part. But when I was thinking back on it as an adult, what my friend said seemed to track, and it was in-line with the "Jedi are corrupt" prism through which a lot of people see the Prequels, 2018-me included.
But nowadays - having read a whole bunch of George Lucas quotes and rewatched the scene - I don't think that it's meant to be perceived that way.
I've briefly touched on this last year, but if we look at this scene from a Doylian perspective, rather than a Watsonian one, it's clear to me that the point of this scene is three-fold.
1) Moving the story along, making sure Anakin is present in the third act.
"This was a little tricky, when writing the script, in that I didn’t want Anakin to become a Jedi yet, cuz I’m saving that for the end of the movie. But at the same time I still had to have him tag along. (laughs) And I was able to use, really, the device of the fact that Anakin had been put in Qui-Gon’s care and that he had promised his mother that he would take care of him as a way of allowing him to take the boy along with him on this trek… to the next third of the movie. But one of the difficulties of writing a script with lots and lots of characters is rationalize why everybody’s along."
- The Phantom Menace, Director’s Commentary, 1999
This one's pretty simple to follow.
We need Anakin in the third act so he can blow up the big ship at the end. So the Council doesn't take Anakin in, but let's Qui-Gon keep him as a ward until a more definitive decision can be made.
2) Foreshadowing Anakin's inevitable downfall.
"We have the little testing scene which is really designed to allow him to be accepted as a Jedi, eventually. Because he has the powers… but as Yoda points out, there’s a lot of fear in him, and anger. That’s why they actually deny him the chance to become a Jedi. But it’s also - when they relent later on - it’s the thing that ultimately begins to describe some of his downfall".
- The Phantom Menace, Commentary Track #2, 1999
Also straightforward. Anakin will become Vader, so let's hint at this.
The Jedi are clairvoyant wizards, they see all the red flags but must also admit that his future is clouded. In doubt, they'd rather err on the side of caution and not train him.
As George explained in Cut Magazine, in 1999, both the Council's prediction and Qui-Gon's decision are ultimately correct and wrong; Darth Vader does plunge the galaxy in darkness, but he will also bring back balance to the Force.
3) Illustrating the Jedi's principles by injecting his own values into their teachings.
"Ideas don't come into a story that easily. A lot of the time the characters have to say what you mean, and to do that the characters usually have to have differing opinions about the idea so they can discuss it."
- (collected in The Star Wars Archives: 1999-2005), 1996
This is where things get tricky. What did George mean?
Well, there's plenty of quotes where he says Jedi can feel emotions, namely love... what does he say about fear, specifically?
Okay, so that sounds a helluva lot like what Yoda says. Or rather, Yoda sounds a helluva lot like George.
If we go by the idea that the Jedi are, "dunking on Anakin and chastising him for being afraid because they've lost their way and now repress their emotions"... then it's inconsistent with what George Lucas was saying in the above quotes, because he clearly agrees with Yoda and uses the character as a vector to get his own ideas across.
It'd also wouldn't track with what we see in The Gathering, during The Clone Wars, in which we see that to gain their kyber crystal, a Jedi must overcome their weaknesses - including facing their fears.
So either George wanted us to think the Jedi Council collectively decided, on that specific day, to say "to hell with everything we stand for: fuck this kid in particular, just because"... or that's not how we're meant to read the scene.
I'd say the only reading that is consistent with everything George said is the following:
Anakin is afraid, he misses his mom. Which is normal.
The Jedi sense this and ask him how he feels, hoping he'll have the sense of admitting to this feeling (first step towards solving a problem is acknowledging there is one).
Anakin refuses to admit he's afraid, even after they explain that they know he is. He doesn't see what him being afraid has to do with anything.
Yoda explains the dangers of unchecked fear. If you don’t address or overcome it, it'll eventually lead to suffering and the Dark Side.
So Anakin being afraid isn’t the issue in itself, it’s that he won’t even acknowledge that that fear is there. Which, again, is completely normal, but a Jedi is supposed to be above that... and Anakin's age makes it so that he'll have a hard time learning this.
Hence why they initially decide he won't be trained.
So Lucas was clearly going for a classic Yoda moment, like "do or do not" in Empire Strikes Back… but to most people, the way the scene is written makes the Council seems cold, unfeeling, and dunking on a 9-year-old and makes Qui-Gon look like the reasonable one.
Could George have conveyed his intent more clearly?
Now, another writer might have decided to illustrate this philosophical lesson about unchecked fear differently, in a way that makes the Jedi seem kinder, less detached and more relatable. Lucas will be the first to admit that he’s not that writer.
"I'd be the first person to say I can't write dialogue. My dialogue is very utilitarian and is designed to move things forward. I'm not Shakespeare. It's not designed to be poetic. It's not designed to have a clever turn of phrase. [...] Dialogue isn't my strength. I use it as a device. I don't particularly like dialogue which is part of the problem."
- EMPIRE, 1999
He writes dialog that takes you from point A to point B. The bottom line is Anakin's got too much fear and that he's too old? He'll stick to that bottom line.
It also doesn't help that, well, we're only shown Anakin as a sweet child, without being shown the traits that make the Council go "hmmm maybe not".
Like, the more explicit way would be to show the Council having a vision of death and destruction and Anakin standing in the middle of it... but you wouldn't even need to go that far.
Originally the scene went on for just a tad longer, with the Council prodding Anakin more and the latter screaming "I'M NOT AFRAID!" in anger.
Thus proving Yoda's point, that there's some unchecked fear and anger in him which - due to his age - will be difficult for him to master.
This was cut from the final movie, but was kept in printed editions of the script and the novelizations.
Interestingly, there was also this other deleted scene, where Anakin gets in a fight with a young Greedo, after the latter accused him of cheating at the Boonta Eve race.
According to this commentary, the scene was cut (to Rick McCallum's dismay) because George felt that - while it showed Anakin had a temper - it didn't really establish his character one way or the other, in the scope of The Phantom Menace.
And therein lies the issue, right?
George isn't building a cinematic universe, he's not making a TV series: he's making 3 movies, each about 2 hours long.
There's a short amount of time and a looot of stuff he'd like to say about how a good kid becomes a bad man and how a democracy becomes a dictatorship, and all the other subplots regarding symbiosis etc... that's a lot of things for a movie.
So when he's structuring how the Prequels explore the first theme, it's done as such:
First movie: Show Anakin was a sweet kid, hint at his fear.
Second movie: Show Anakin's other flaws, his love for Padmé & Shmi's death, which will eventually increase his fear and mark the first step toward his fall to the Dark Side.
Third movie: Anakin's fear of losing Padmé causes his fall.
And that's it. Nothing happens outside these movies.
A project with a larger scope (or one that only focused on Anakin's rise and fall) might've explored how Anakin felt growing up in the Temple alongside other already-trained Jedi, his trauma from his days as a slave, his anger issues, whether he ever asked the Jedi to go back and rescue his Mom, more details on his friendship with Obi-Wan, how Palpatine manipulated him from day one...
In that project, you'd put those deleted scenes and lines back in.
But this ain't that project. This is the space equivalent of a fairy tale.
So, to Lucas, none of the above factor into the story about Anakin's downfall, by virtue of not being in the movies.
Which makes it unrealistic to a majority of viewers. But George (indie experimental filmmaker with a vision) had a very specific thesis he was going for:
So at some point we're left with two choices.
1. "Death of the Author"
If George's thesis wasn't conveyed clearly enough, or executed well enough and what you saw killed your suspension of disbelief, or if you plainly disagree with George's view on fear... then obviously, go to town with heacanons, go with the "Jedi are dunking on Anakin 'cause they lost their way" interpretation.
Sure, it's not what George Lucas was going for, but as my friend who I mentioned at the start said to me more recently:
"Who cares? Either the Jedi are intentionally meant to be seen as arrogant, emotionless a-holes, or the Prequels are bad movies."
Which I disagree with, but hey :D
2. Seeing the scene the way it was originally intended.
This is the one I'm going with. If you still like George's thesis and see it clearly when you watch the Prequels, then great.
In that moment, Qui-Gon - while ultimately correct about Anakin being the Chosen One - is being rash and trying to force Anakin in a mold the Council and Obi-Wan know he'll struggle to fit in. In that moment, they're in the right, he's in the wrong, and Anakin is caught in the middle. And that's pretty much it.
In the end, the most important part of that whole scene is the message "fear leads to anger, hate and suffering". And these are movies for kids. And as a kid... I got the message.
So the scene did its job with high scores, as far as I'm concerned.
#I already touched on this scene before a couple of times so I thought I'd put all my thoughts in one post#jedi#attachment#anakin#george lucas#sw meta#bts tidbits#star wars#tpm#the phantom menace#jedi order#meta#anakin skywalker#long post#this has been in my drafts for months ffs#need to find the time to complete this stuff
470 notes
·
View notes
Text
Watching S2’s teaser trailer and the sneak peak of the Stolitz duet, my prediction is that Stolitz isn’t endgame—specifically that they TRY to make it work, but the real core issue in their relationship is that Blitzø needs to love himself before he can love others.
And of course that’s heartbreaking….but I also think that it’s a necessary lesson for our boi to learn. It happens so often irl and it’s a really tough lesson to learn, a harsh reality. A lot of people who don’t love themselves will try to distract from their self loathing by plunging head first into a relationship and put their significant other’s needs before their own—and as we’ve seen with Blitzø and Stolas, it works….until it doesn’t.
One of my favorite quotes from Jonathan Decker, a licensed relationship therapist (see Cinema Therapy on YouTube) is, “a good relationship thrives when you tend to your significant other’s needs but not at the cost of your own”.
And, as Lizzo says in ‘Am I Ready (To Be Loved)’: ‘How’m I supposed to love somebody else when I don’t like myself (like, oooo) Guess I better learn to like this (oooo) It might take my whole life just to do’
Truth. It can take your entire life to learn to love yourself. And that’s okay! As much as it feels like that sucks, self love is incredibly important.
And so far Blitzø is making good headway, what with reconnecting with Fizz and having that much needed talk with Moxxie. We’ve seen that he’s more than capable of being vulnerable and loving….he just needs to push himself a bit more and try not to fall back into bad habits or distractions.
I’m not saying I’m not gonna go through the 5 stages of grief if that IS where Stolitz’s story is gonna go, but y’know. That just speaks to how amazing this show is and how well it’s written.
In conclusion I’ll be living in sweet sweet denial by consuming and drawing all the yummy Stolitz domestic bliss I can until the next episodes of Helluva come out lol
I mean no matter what happens we’re gonna cry regardless so /shrugs/ that’s a given, right fam? 😅💖😈
#helluva boss#stolitz#my thoughts#blitzo#stolas#precious babies#y’all we probably gonna cry no matter what#brace yourselves#I know I am
12 notes
·
View notes
Video
youtube
Sonic the Hedgehog 2 (1992) Part 1: Emerald Hunting
Now we’re getting to the fun stuff
I love Sonic 2. It’s not even my favorite in the whole series (though it most certainly is in the top 5), but it’s a game that I can’t help but appreciate for its overall simplicity
This is a no-nonsense kind of sequel: take the ideas introduced in Sonic 1 and actually flesh them out by jacking up the speed, improving the physics and making the level design a helluva lot more appropriate for this kind of gameplay
Granted: the level design is definitely still more on the simple side, I’ve even seen some claim that it’s borderline “hold right to win”. Yeah sure, do that in Aquatic Ruin without falling in the water. Or in Oil Ocean and Metropolis without getting hit every 2 seconds. (No defense for Emerald Hill though, but tbf that’s the first level). The platforming is also generally less focused than in Sonic 1 but I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Sonic may ideally strike a balance between speed and platforming but if he really has to veer into either direction I think it’s best to veer towards the former because 1) That’s what makes Sonic stand out and 2) Sonic can’t do pure platforming as well as the likes of Mario. His physics based movements, while great for speed, are generally not ideal for the kind of pixel perfect jumps that hardcore platformers often require, which is why, if you notice, Sonic games usually have pretty big platforms for him to jump on and the platforms themselves don’t often move too quickly and the few times the games do throw smaller platforms at you, like the ones with retractable spikes in Metropolis, it feels awkward even though those would be pretty standard in most other platformers. You probably wouldn’t be able to put Megaman’s Yoku Blocks and make them work in a Sonic game for example. Besides to say that Sonic 2 has no platforming is just silly: Aquatic Ruin is litererally built on the concept of trying to stick to the upper route so as to avoid falling into the water, which instantly makes it a much better water level than Labyrinth Zone
Casino Night Zone feels like a more fleshed out Spring Yard what with its more focused pinball mechanics. I do wonder though if any pearl clutching mothers back then had any issues with their children playing a kids’ game that featured literal slot machines...
I don’t even think that Chemical Plant needs any introduction, though I will say that act 1 is way too short and underwhelming
Are there issues? Oh yes. Because of the increased speed there’s now also an increased chance of running into enemies that come from offscreen. Granted this is an issue in all 2D Sonic games, even Sonic 3 (Marble Garden says hi), but I can’t say that this game does much to mitigate it, especially with things like Chemical Plant featuring stuff like flipping floor boards at points, which may just flip right as you’re about to approach them plunging you to your death through no fault of your own! And who could forget the Pit of Doom?
The way Special Stages are accessed is undoubtadly much better: yes having to collect 50 rings without getting hit is still a pain, but now you get so many more chances to actually play a Special Stage
The Stages themselves are full of issues, don’t get me wrong: the frame rate is super choppy, the controls laggy, you pretty much have to know in advance when some bombs are coming and from where because the stage itself gives you little to no heads up, having Tails with you is like having a literal ball and chain strapped onto you. Hell I think it’s quite telling that one of my clearest childhood memories of this game is...going on GameFaqs to look up the Super Sonic cheat code, not to mention the fact that, even 20 years later, I STILL have muscle memory of these stages, like a sixth sense telling me when I should turn or when to jump.
Despite this however I would still much rather contend with these than those of the previous game: these Special Stages are made to be mastered on repeated playthroughs, which is encouraged both by the amount of attempts you can possibly make throughout the game and the fact that, when you fail, the next time you warp in you’re going to retry the one you failed in rather than moving onto the next one like all the other Classic games do for some stupid reason.
I can get better over time at these Special Stages and get more or less consistent results. With Sonic 1′s, even after 20 years of playing them, it still feels like a luck of the draw half the time
It also certainly helps that, this time around, you actually obtain something worthwhile by getting all the Emeralds and not just a slightly different ending
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm Not Sorry There's Nothing to Save || CH3 Execution
“Alright, enough of that.”
Tony’s taken charge again, breaking up the conversation.
“We're ready on set! No second takes, this is it, baby! The big finale to one helluva ride!”
As he says this, Fantasia disappears from the trial room. Gone, in an instant, just like Le Treizième.
Have you ever been to a carnival? Fantasia hasn’t, and so when he finds himself in what looks like a hall of mirrors, he has to admit he’s a bit surprised. He’d expected something more familiar, based on the single example of an execution he’s seen. Walls, ceiling and floor all reflect him back at himself in a dizzying array that stretches on forever– he turns around to take it in, and when he finds no exits, opts to check out his appearance instead. What’s the point in being somber about it, after all? He knows what’s coming. Might as well admire himself while he waits for it to start. He’s also been returned his glasses (a relief, as this wouldn’t be a very exciting execution if he couldn’t see an inch in front of him) and his cane, which he taps on the ground next to him.
It’s only a few moments of Fantasia turning to look into the mirrors before he notices out of the corner of his vision– one of the reflections moves, but not with him. The reflected figure reaches out to push against the surface, and then through it, like it’s a pool of water. Out steps… well, Fantasia. But not quite. It looks awfully like him, almost identical, but something in the way it holds itself is unnatural and a bit different. The face is more narrow, the hair a shade darker. Perhaps the most obvious change, though, is the dull eyes that stare at him, devoid of any of the sparkle present in the real Fantasia’s. And, of course, it grips a knife in one hand.
How appropriate, to meet his end at the hands of something wearing his face, when he’d just done the same. Well, he thinks in amusement, and lowers his stance to something more prepared for a fight. Not if I have anything to say about it.
The doppelganger leaps forward, knife raised. Fantasia grips the end of his cane and yanks it up, and you see the glint of metal shining from inside. And you realize quickly that every time he claimed that combat wasn’t really his thing was a complete lie.
With movements almost too fast to track, he slides underneath the incoming blow from his opponent and swings his own blade upwards. There’s a few seconds of a scuffle where it becomes clear that this copy of Fantasia is wildly overmatched, before the real one plunges his knife into its back and then steps away.
He doesn’t watch as it falls to the ground dead, and so doesn’t see the cracks spiderwebbing out from where it hits the mirror below his feet. His attention, instead, is focused on another mirror. Again, a hand emerges from it, and again, it produces a slightly-incorrect copy of Fantasia. This one has a lighter tail and a docked ear, and the same dull eyes. He smiles at it, as if on instinct, before it hefts the bat it’s holding and swings at him.
It’s another quick finish as he deflects the blow with the wooden shaft of his cane and then sweeps the clone’s legs, finishing it off with an almost lackadaisical slice to the throat in midair. Again, as it finishes its descent and hits the ground, the cracks in the mirrored floor spread. Fantasia is occupied by a third– teeth much sharper, and nails longer and more claw-like than his. This one gives him more trouble, raking its claws across his cheek and biting down into his forearm in the scuffle that ensues. He manages to crush it’s head in with the butt of his cane and it, too, slumps to the ground. The cracks spread further.
A fourth clone emerges, slightly taller and more muscular. Still not correct. Blood drips from Fantasia’s arm into the cracks of the mirror below him as he makes the first move, ducking under the swing of the long blade the doppelganger carries and bringing his own knife up. Though it finds a home in its ribs, it’s not enough to stop the onslaught, and his own ribs are sliced before he gets out of the way. He slides around behind the clone to wrap his arms around its neck and snap it. Unpleasant. And this time, he does notice the second crack as the floor becomes more and more of a mosaic. His eyebrows raise as he looks down and sees himself, reflected back in pieces.
But there should only be four, right? So what else is there? Though he’s bleeding, it’s not even close to the worst he’s had. The one in charge here would need to try much harder to finish him off.
Though, really, he should have been able to guess. As he looks down at the floor, he sees in the reflection a second figure. And when he looks up, there stands a fifth combatant– again a clone of himself, but this time, perfect. The facial features are an exact match, the hair and tail the same shade. The only difference is the dark clothing it wears, and its eyes– the same dull and lifeless ones that every prior copy had had. Unsuited for the Fantasia you all know, and yet… not exactly out of place on his face.
(Though he doesn’t notice, preoccupied by readying himself again, perhaps you notice the mirrors on the wall. After all, it’s unnatural– for none of them to show a reflection of either of the two Fantasias standing in the room. The only one left, after all of this, is the cracked form of your original Fantasia in the floor below.)
The perfect clone stares back at him, and this time, he doesn’t smile on instinct. His pupils narrow to thin slits as he takes in the fact that it, too, wields his bladed cane. There’s no one he’s more evenly matched with than himself, after all.
Both move at the same time as the fight starts, and indeed, it seems impossible for either to gain the upper hand. It’s difficult to follow with how fast the pair move and shift around each other, but you can tell that this is a fight between two people who know completely what they’re doing. No matter what impressive maneuvers they try, their blows are always blocked. It would be thrilling to watch, maybe, were there not a life on the line– though, Fantasia would probably want you to enjoy it regardless.
The two fight for what seems like an endless length of time, both sustaining nasty scratches and cuts, but nothing fatal enough to finish either off. “Don’t you think this is a bit of a drag?” Fantasia spits between gasping breaths.
The clone doesn’t respond. He doesn’t expect it to. He sighs instead, and in a contrast to the elegant fighting style he’s shown so far–
He pulls his fist back and punches it in the face. Its glasses shatter, shards embedding in his fist. The momentary shock at such an out-of-character action is enough of a window– a hundredth of a second is enough. Fantasia’s knife plunges through its heart, and he steps back. He smiles brightly, bleeding from numerous wounds, and speaks the words he’s sure will doom him:
“I win.”
There’s a moment of silence while the perfect clone staggers. It coughs once, and then lurches forward in one last lightning-quick movement. All it manages is a shove, sending him off-balance before it, too, hits the floor. Fantasia tips backwards–
And the mirror shatters. The shards lift away, tilting towards the final body falling towards them. The smile on Fantasia’s face is visible for one final moment before it’s obscured by hundreds of shards of glass, flying upwards and embedding in flesh.
0 notes
Text
Novocaine Enough | Yoonseok | Part 1
Amazing banner credit to @joonscore
Part 2 -> Part 3
Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok
Wordcount: 6.1k
Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, smut
Rating: 18+
Summary: Four years later, and Yoongi is still an itch under his skin. Hoseok is trying to move on, from his past life and his past love, but there are some voids that can’t be filled. Some needs that can’t be met. And when Hoseok enters a club and hears the music of the man he left so long ago, he realizes that some addictions can’t be healed by anything as simple as time.
Warnings: Swearing; implied, mentioned and past drug use/abuse (cocaine, ecstasy, weed, alcohol); past overdosing; mutually unhealthy relationship dynamic; explicit (kinda angry) sex, including biting, oral, gagging, rimming, edging, marking, barebacking, thigh riding.
Ao3 Link: here
A/N: This took me a disgustingly long time to complete, but I’ve limped to the finish line! I wouldn’t have got there without @ditttiii, who helped me talk through an early version of the fic. Also major thanks to my beta @birbdae for cleaning up this long piece!
Is there anything he loves more than stepping into a club for the first time? The easy answer is yes, but in the moment – in the present – right now – Hoseok can’t give the easy answer. Shoving through the door is like plunging into water, waves of heavy bass surging against him as he submerges into the half-remembered music and suddenly warm air. The change in temperature is a welcome relief after the cold outside and only serves to reinforce the sensation of entering a thicker atmosphere. Breathing in against the sudden pressure, Hoseok does a grateful little skip as he pulls off his beanie and gloves.
Next to him, Taehyung laughs, the deep sound competing with the heavy music beating at Hoseok’s eardrums. “Not even on the dance floor and you’re already starting?”
Tossing his head to get his dark hair out of his face, Hoseok grins. “That suggests I ever stopped.” He hadn’t. Not really. Once you start to dance – to inhale the music and turn it into pure, unadulterated movement – you don’t really take a break. You just… slow down, sometimes.
His companion grins, a boxy affair with no ridicule in it. And why should there be? Taehyung is a dancer, too, and a helluva good one, if Jimin and Jungkook are to be believed. (They usually aren’t, but in the case of a possible new crewmember, Hoseok is willing to lend a little belief.) He’s known Tae for a year now, since Taehyung became friends with Jungkook in one of their classes and started hanging out with the crew, but it wasn’t until a week or so ago that Kookie persuaded him to show off his stuff. Apparently, in the past, there’d been some kind of accident that stopped Taehyung from dancing, yet according to Jimin and Jungkook, that hadn’t shown at all when he finally broke out in front of them.
Hoseok will see the truth for himself soon enough, anyways; it’s not like they came to the recently opened club to just stand around. His eyes flick eagerly at the thought, scoping the place out.
It’s pretty packed, and given how huge a club it is, that’s saying something. This is one of those open area concepts, all sprawling space with two bars pushed off to the corners, and a much smaller upper area, almost an oversized balcony. On the far side of the club there’s a DJ booth that’s swarming with people in front of it, so much so that he can’t see through the crowd to whoever is getting them so pumped. And there are more people streaming in by the second; he and Taehyung have had to shuffle to the side several times since they stepped inside, and by now they’re almost plastered against the wall. That would have been disappointing, except that according to Jin, on Saturdays the floor gets cleared at around 11 and the serious dancers get to have a go at it for a while.
In the meantime… Spotting a gap in the crush of bodies, Hoseok takes his chance and darts almost seamlessly through, throwing over his shoulder as he does so, “You want something to drink?”
His companion follows, albeit more slowly. Not that Hoseok can blame him; Taehyung is broader than he is, making knocked shoulders and collisions almost an inevitability. When Hoseok makes it to the nearest bar, he’s left the other behind.
It gives him plenty of time to hover around the edges, admiring the form of the bartender, who puts Taehyung’s shoulders to shame. The man in question isn’t exactly the picture of grace – not like those in Hoseok’s crew – but his energy is so loud, so vibrant, that it makes up for nearly dropped glasses and a few hesitations as he mixes the drinks for various customers. The breathtaking smile helps; the way he goes from 1 to 100 the second anyone tries to complain about the wait time probably helps, too.
Red-faced and outraged, he’s chewing out some poor guy for that exact offense when Hoseok finally finds room to sidle up to the front of the bar. “And if you think I’m making you another Manhattan after that comment, you can stick it straight up – oh. Hey, Hobi!”
The offender slinks away as Hoseok shakes his head in mock seriousness. “Is Namjoon paying you to bartend or to insult customers?” he shouts over the deep resonance that’s currently more a feeling shuddering across the floor than a sound.
Jin’s indignation doesn’t fade so much as evaporate entirely. Blinking with easy complacency, a small smile playing across his face, he turns and begins prepping the order a girl apologetically yells at him. “Just to bartend. The insults I give for free.”
“Wow, a star employee.” Fake seriousness dissolving into something more real, he asks, “Will Namjoon be around tonight? I wanted to ask him about the competition the club is hosting.”
It takes a few moments to reply, Jin’s hands and concentration caught in the mixing profession before he pulls himself away. “Not until a lot later, if at all,” the bartender replies eventually. “He’s looking after Remi tonight, so if he comes it’ll be after she goes to sleep. And can you imagine Joon leaving her alone?”
“No,” Hobi admits. Namjoon dotes on his daughter so much (the few times a month that he gets her) that it would be a miracle if he showed up tonight. Which is a little inconvenient for Hoseok, but the vague annoyance is buried under the reminder that being a good dad comes before being a good club owner.
He stands in fidgeting silence – silence surrounded by sound and people – for a few moments, playing with the studded collar of his black jacket, watching Jin work, and trying to enjoy the music. Taehyung must have been caught by someone, which is fine and not unsurprising given that it’s Tae. However, the absence of his companion, and with Jin mostly absorbed in his drinks, has mild anxiety trickling under Hoseok’s heels and through his fingertips. He rocks on the former and drums the latter against the sleek black leather of his pants in an attempt to drive the restlessness out. It doesn’t work particularly well, but automatically he finds himself adjusting his movements to the rhythm of the bass, and the focus required does help.
Each song is mixed so well, there’s no weird or awkward moment for his concentration to snag on, and the transitions are seamless, so smooth that the DJ must have curated this tracklist with individual attention to each end and beginning. Not unheard of, exactly, but certainly a pleasure when compared to many of the jarring amateur attempts Hoseok has been subjected to before. Last they’d talked, Namjoon had mentioned he was looking to hire another DJ for his new club, and if this is the man… well, Hoseok just hopes he’ll be the same guy who’s doing their dance competition, too. Another question – or request – to throw Joon’s way the next time they meet.
He’s just about to resign himself to submerging back into the crowd in search of Taehyung when the boy in question pops up, all teeth and warm apology. “Sorry, hyung! I saw a friend I haven’t talked to in a while, and you were so far ahead already I didn’t think I could call you back, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk for a bit so I paused and then I’d lost you and –”
“Don’t sweat it.” It’s always been a marvel to Hoseok that such a rambling and excited apology could sound sincere, but Taehyung makes it work one hundred percent. “Let me grab you something. What do you drink?”
“Oh, well, I like whiskey sours, but you don’t have to –”
“Whiskey it is.” As he turns away, Taehyung’s surprised expression isn’t lost on Hoseok. Yeah, he isn’t often this direct, but the young man’s never seen him at dance practice and besides, the music is scraping under his skin, rubbing his bones the wrong way in the best way possible. It’s forcing him into a different form.
Suiting word to deed, he returns to the bar, puts in Tae’s request along with his own. Like a cheerful despot towering behind his counter walls, Jin takes the order before other people’s, waving off the muted outrage of his customers with shameless ease. It’s good to see his relatively new job hasn’t reformed him too much; it’s not that Jin’s ever actively rude or cruel. but he just has one pace, and that pace is his own.
For all that Hoseok admires that quality in his friend, it still has him flushing and ducking his head apologetically at the accusing looks. He’s quick to grab the drinks, but when he tries to shove money at Jin, the other man waves him off. “My treat,” the bartender calls. “When you all start dancing, everyone’s going to get thirsty and I’m going to be getting tons of tips!” His laughter quickly spikes too high to be heard in this crowd, but he’s still laughing as Hoseok, even more flushed, winds through the press of bodies with the glasses held high.
When he reaches Taehyung, his companion just sips his drink, but Hoseok downs his. The burn down his throat is no more intense than the burn he feels building in his muscles. A different kind of heat.
He finds himself shifting, his body beginning to ache with impatience. Tae is an entertaining person, but Hoseok's restlessness is blazing through his concentration, leaving cinders in its wake, and words of any kind – no matter how entertaining – are a poor thing in comparison. While he's always eager to move when at the club, this is a new level of agitation, a heightened awareness of the sounds and heavy ambience, and at first, he doesn't know what has him so on edge.
They talk some more, just waiting, really, for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive. Taehyung doesn't have a car and Hoseok had agreed to drive him, and Jimin was going to drive Jungkook after a late class. They should be here within half an hour or so, though in the meantime Tae, ever obliging, grabs he and Hoseok two more rounds of drinks. It's while he's grabbing the third round that the impatience becomes less of a hum and more of a howl, and Hoseok grasps with a sudden jolt that it's because of the song that's currently playing.
Whoever is mixing this music is really doing an amazing job; the song modifications, amplifications and beat alignments almost make the atmosphere come alive, and all it needs is an avatar to show off just how much energy it really has. He could be that. He should be that. It’s almost like he and the DJ are in a private conversation, and they’re egging him on, jamming little pinpricks into his joints, demanding he dance.
His mouth is dry – too dry – but that's nothing new when he's in the club, and Hoseok hardly notices it. The next song has just come on, as seamlessly as the last, and with a sharp pang of understanding, Hoseok realizes why he feels so tense, even more so than usual.
This DJ – whoever they are – has similar tastes as Yoongi. The powerful flow of thudding music is creating something in Hoseok, a kind of nostalgic frenzy, and it makes him swallow hard, swallow again with the feeling of shards of glass and regret slipping down his throat. He hasn't heard a DJ who favours reverb and synth choruses so much since the last time he'd guested at one of Yoongi's gigs. How long ago was that? Four years? He can hardly remember.
To remember is absolutely not why Hoseok is here.
"Hyung?" Taehyung says something to him, has said it more than once, to judge by his tone. Hoseok snaps his eyes to the other man's face, his breath abruptly staggered. "Hyung, are you okay?"
"Yeah," and to Hoseok’s ears his voice sounds tinny, strained. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jimin and Jungkook should be here soon, right? I should go grab some alcohol for them."
"Do you wanna take your shot?"
"I will after. Be back in a sec."
"Sure...?" Taehyung's eyes are sharp and probing, uncomfortably and unexpectedly keen, and Hoseok can't remember if he knows about Yoongi. He definitely wouldn't know Yoongi – none of his friends do – because they didn't know Hoseok back then. So – there's no point in explaining. No point in bringing it up. Hoseok swallows again, and walks away, needing to escape. Although he can't escape the music.
He also can't help how his gaze skitters to the DJ booth, there and back again, short looks that can't penetrate the barrier of people crowded around it. It can't be him. It can't. The last time he saw Yoongi...
You didn't come here to remember, he reminds himself savagely.
Jin has seemingly even more customers pestering him than before, and just hands off the drinks without a fuss. This time, hypersensitive and too raw to accept charity, Hoseok makes him take the cash, pressing it to the counter when the bartender tries to decline. Head tilting, thick eyebrows furrowing, for the first time this night Jin looks something other than melodramatic, and Hoseok doesn't want that. He came here to dance, for Christ's sake, not have someone notice a mini-meltdown!
Hefting on a smile that feels like it weighs one thousand pounds, he brushes off his friend's concern and darts away, carrying a tray of glasses. He's hardly taken a few steps before he downs his drink. Too much, too fast, especially for him, but he needs the soft buffer of alcohol right now. Hoseok won't look at the DJ stand. It's not him. There's no way it could be Yoongi. And even if it were...
It's not.
And even if it were, what would he do? Go down on his knees and ask for forgiveness? Punch him in his bleakly certain face? Or–
It's not him.
The music resonates around him – through him – in shuddering waves, jarring his weak attempts to tamp it down, and Hoseok is starting to feel feverish with the familiarity of the flashbacks flickering through his head. He's definitely had too much to drink. He just – he needs to do something. He needs to move.
It is with a huge wash of relief that he gets back to Taehyung and sees Jimin and Jungkook have arrived. Jimin is dressed in faded denim jeans and a glittering blue and yellow jacket, though the jacket will probably be off by the end of the night if other nights are anything to go by. Jungkook is a little more subdued, just wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, but his outfit makes the tattoo sleeve on his left arm pop. Both of them are standouts in the crowded space. Add in Taehyung with his black and white patterned shirt and matching headband, and Hoseok really can’t blame the number of eyes he notices settled on the trio.
Taehyung is oblivious to it. “You’re back!” he exclaims, leaping forward to help Hoseok with the drinks.
Jimin’s sultry expression – he calls it his performance face – is something he wears as easily as his brilliant jacket, and he shrugs it off with just as much aplomb when his gaze lands on Hoseok’s tight look. Eyes flickering about as if he could spot the problem, his smile becoming warmer but tinged with concern, the small man accepts the glass from Tae and then asks, “What’s up?”
A grin can be a work of art, and Hobi turns this into a masterpiece. All ease and bright lines, no clouds in this painting. He’s not quite as good at lying outright, but the noise probably masks his beat of hesitation. “Nothing! I’m just excited to get started.”
“Makes two of us,” Jungkook comments, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he nabs a shot from Taehyung.
“Three!” Taehyung chimes in. They all fall silent, turning expectantly to Jimin.
He’s still watching Hoseok, his lips lightly pursued. Hobi can’t help his nervous titter at the close examination, turns it into a more raucous laugh. “You’re not excited, ChimChim? Come on, we’ve been talking about this for weeks!”
At last, Jimin breaks eye contact, if only to shove back the unruly silver bangs tumbling across his forehead. “I’m excited,” he says, apparently deciding to drop whatever he’d seen on Hobi’s face. “Just hope there aren’t too many rookie dancers around. We don’t wanna make them look too bad when we start.” The look he wears is nothing short of angelic, but Hoseok knows well enough the competitive edge that lurks under that innocent façade. Jimin likes to win.
Jungkook huffs a fervent agreement. He likes to win, too. He’s good at it. Actually, they all do, and they all are. There’s a reason Hobi’s put this particular team together.
Right. Something to focus on, instead of the shadow of memory that the music keeps trying to make more substantial. With a playful nod, Hobi notes with false regret, “Well, if Tae is as good as you say, they might be out of luck.”
“I’ll do my best!” the man in question promises earnestly, and Hoseok can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees a flash of… something… in Taehyung’s eyes. Maybe not the same sharp need to win that Jungkook wears blatantly and Jimin cloaks yet never lets go of, but something. Passion, at the very least.
Hell, it works for Hoseok. Who cares what drives his people, as long as it's driving them to work hard?
As long as it isn’t driving them straight off a cliff.
He knows exactly where that thought comes from, and unbidden he turns to the DJ booth. It’s still too crowded to tell who’s working there. Probably a good thing. At this point Hoseok doesn’t know what will hurt him more; if the DJ isn’t Yoongi, or if it is.
The rest of them are talking and drinking, and he listens with half an ear, half a brain, half a being. The other half is straining to tell if the music really is as familiar as he thinks it is. If he can match that melody with that moment, or that bass with that breath, or that reverb with that regret. It’s stupid, pointless, harmful, but he can’t make himself stop. How funny, that he could have sworn he was over this. Had drummed it out of his muscles and his head both. God, if only he could dance.
Like an answer from the heavens – or maybe elsewhere – the music suddenly cuts off. A voice comes on the mic, clear, crisp, and familiar, but not who Hoseok was half expecting. It’s Jin. “Hey ladies and gentlemen and everyone else. As ya’ll know, it’s time for the Saturday dance off! If you fancy yourself a dancer, stay where you are, otherwise get your ass out of the floor area marked by the thick black lines. If you didn’t know there was a dance off today and you don’t like it, there’s a big ass door under the exit sign. I think we’re over capacity anyways.” With a loud blare of feedback, he cuts off.
Slowly at first, then more quickly, people start wandering out of the space Jin had indicated, crowding against the walls, or heading to the smaller area upstairs. He thinks he sees a few people leave after the announcement, but that might have just been a coincidence. By the time things have cleared, there are some twenty people on the dance floor, not including his crew.
This is exactly what he needs to clear his mind. Hoseok observes those left, his head tilted, an easy smile unconsciously gracing his lips. He can tell at a glance a few people are just idiots who want to flail around and call it dancing. There’s nothing wrong with that, exactly, but experience has taught him that people like that usually get pretty embarrassed when they suddenly find themselves next to professionals. Unless they’re really drunk, in which case they’ll just be a slight distraction. Nothing his guys can’t handle.
As for the rest… Hoseok actually recognizes two women, a couple he’s met at a few competitions, both official and underground. They’re good. Really good. His smile grows, and amid the tingling warmth of all the alcohol he’s had, there’s a fiercer burn, a kind of exultant excitement. He’s too drunk, probably, but this is crystal clarity, a heatwave burning everything unimportant and leaving just his focus and his friends.
And the music. The DJ regains control of the mic system, and he’s starting off with something heavy, almost ominous. The bass is shaking the floor, shaking Hoseok’s foundation, and he finds himself shaking in response, with little tremors of tension. Whoever’s running the music, they know how to start a show, and Hoseok is aching to finish it.
This isn’t an actual competition, of course. No judges, or set songs, or styles. It’s freestyle, and if there’s any kind of critic, it’s the crowd, already buzzing with anticipation and adding to the air of expectation. Hoseok breathes in and it feels like he’s inhaling something far more than air.
Because this isn’t run by anyone official, there are no rules about who can start, or how, or when. While Hobi and the rest of the serious dancers size each other up and feel out the rhythm, a trio of wasted kids stumble into the center of the floor. Their awkward floundering is laughable, and so Hoseok does laugh, a joyful sound echoed by Jungkook and Taehyung and a good deal of the crowd and competitors. It’s not unkind, at least not on Hobi’s part; he’s just too excited to reach the level that’s so far above these people to keep back the explosion of mirth.
Jimin’s lip is lightly curled when Hoseok glances at him, but though he isn’t laughing, he’s squirming in place, clearly impatient to start.
Why keep him waiting?
“You ready?” he asks his crew, a redundant courtesy. They are. “I think we go low for this one? I’ll take the center? Let’s go… Jimin, then Jungkook, then Taehyung? And keep heavy on the left?” Phrased as questions, but they aren’t, just more courtesy, letting Taehyung know how he wants to approach this. They’ve already discussed general four-person set-ups, with Tae and without. The other two know what Hoseok wants. Everyone nods, short, sharp.
He steps forward. Not far. Not really enough to crowd the hammered trio’s space. Just enough to announce their presence and give them room to work. His friends follow, and Hoseok can almost feel them at his back. The wide grin has faded, replaced with an unintentional intensity that, unbeknownst to him, makes it hard for people to look away. Most of the laughter in the crowd dies, replaced by wire-tight quiet.
In that quiet, he begins. Slowly to start. Why hurry perfection? The music pours into his marrow and he turns it into movement, gives it form and features for the simple price of sweat. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung join in several beats later, not quite matching his moves or each other, but close. Distorted shadows. They flicker in time with the rhythm, a collection of power moves loosely connected by breaking. Hoseok breathes, draws in the crowd’s awe and admiration, and turns it into fuel as he burns through everything but the music.
Worries, memories, regrets, nothing can survive the blaze of his concentration, and Hoseok feeds them to the flames with ruthless abandon, glad to feel them smoulder to ashes.
His moves become sharper, harsher. Everything gets so much more defined when he dances. The audience, his friends, his body, they all assume a stark clarity, almost painfully distinct. He doesn’t worry – he just moves. The music pulses all around him, urging him on, a nameless connection, and as the fluid lucidity gets even sharper, he prepares to speed up.
Soon – in fact, at what feels like exactly the right moment – the song flows into something else. Faster and more electronic. His body reads it almost before his mind does and Hoseok feels himself changing his motions to fit. More popping now. It feels right to hit the floor, so Hoseok does, in a totally controlled spin on his back that nonetheless looks wildly, perfectly out of control. He stops with a shoulder roll that allows him to transition to his feet, making room for Jimin to step forward and claim center as the crowd cheers.
Jimin is… fucking beautiful. The thought is a vague spark without solid form in the midst of Hoseok’s movement, but it’s true all the same. He dances differently than Hoseok or Jungkook, more gracefully, like any second he could swap his bones for the wind and begin to fly.
Not immune to the effect, but far too disciplined to fall for it (much), Hoseok keeps up his pace next to Jimin, letting himself relax even further into the music. The drunk trio are long gone, shuffled off in embarrassment, but some of the others are inching closer. They’re being polite – letting his crew get in a full rotation – but that’ll end soon enough. He relishes their interest. Not because he has something to prove, or particularly cares what they’re thinking, but because once they start to respond, it’ll be another bar to aim for, another goal, one more reason to keep dancing. And God, does he want to keep dancing.
Jungkook is next, powerful, demanding. He hits each move like it’s personally offended him, smashes into the poses as if he wants to break through reality and reach some other plane. When his feet hit a series of rapid beats in quick succession, it’s enough to get the crowd, already primed, to start whistling and whooping.
Hoseok finds himself doubting his choice to put Taehyung last. From what he’s seen from the corner of his eye as they’ve gone, Tae has kept up fine, his movements slick and confident. Maybe just a hair slower than the trio, but that could easily be chalked up to a lack of familiarity, given how much the other three have practiced together and how long Taehyung has been on a break. Still, asking him to follow up what Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok himself have already shown… He’d thought it would give him time to settle any nerves and see how they all approached being center, and Jimin and Jungkook had sung his praises to the high heavens, but now it seems like it might have been cruel.
Taehyung moves into the middle, and for some reason there’s a sudden swell of appreciative screams. Not from anything Hoseok can see from behind and to the side – maybe Tae had made a particularly great expression? The screams don’t really… stop… after that. From what Hoseok can observe, he gets it.
Turns out it wasn’t cruel to put Tae last. Like, at all.
The man is a consummate performer. Several times, when Taehyung’s supple steps put his back to the front and Hobi can see his face, he’s almost literally struck by how good his facials are. Passion is the name of this game and Tae plays it to perfection, his expressions conveying such a range of intensity that it’s a surprise he hasn’t started a fire with his glower alone
Hell, Tae winks at him at one point and Hoseok finds himself grinning at the smug audacity, breaking his own fierce look. Whoops.
He whips it back on, but they’re almost done, anyways. Another group has edged closer, brash with impatience, and a few seconds later start their own dance. Of course, Hoseok’s crew doesn’t give way immediately – like you could snatch the crown that easily – and for a little bit they’re actually dancing against the other crew. It’s a brawl of sorts, Hoseok’s favourite kind of fighting. It doesn’t last long enough (it never does), but it’s exhilarating while it does. The fact that their opponents are pretty good is just gasoline added to the flames.
However, if a good dancer knows how to step while on the stage, a great one knows when to step off the stage, and as the most recent song winds down, Hoseok stops himself. Unwillingly, painfully, but he does. He gives a short bow to the opposing group, granting them the floor amid a cascade of cheering.
When he and his crew walk away, the shouting just gets louder, deafening in its wild appreciation. Exhilaration swells under his ribs, threatening to crack them with its overwhelming force. For just a moment, Hoseok hears the cheers, feels the way his body is still crackling with energy, remembers how good it had felt to move, and he’s complete. For just a second.
And then the moment is gone.
The rest of his friends are grinning under the praise of the clubgoers, a little playful swagger in their steps as they jostle each other, giving compliments and insults on the individual executions each had pulled. Jimin snags his jacket from a girl who had picked it up from the floor, waves with giddy appreciation at her. They’re quick to find a good spot to watch the other dancers, the crowd happy to give way after what they’d shown. A couple of people offer to get them drinks and Jimin accepts while Jungkook and Taehyung beam. They’re all practically glowing, flush with success. They’d done well; they deserve to be proud. He’s proud of them.
He can feel proud and still be hollow, right? The sudden empty fatigue hits him like a cement truck going 100. It’s almost always like this after he dances, and the more intense the performance, the harder he gets hit. Hoseok abruptly becomes aware of the sweat pouring off him, the waves of heat billowing across his skin, the strained, quiet pain of muscles stretched just a bit beyond their limits. He’s… tired isn’t right. He could do three or four more routines like that, all in a row, without getting truly, bodily exhausted.
Drained. Yeah. That’s it. Like he’d poured something vital into each move, spilled himself across the floor, until there was too little of him left.
Jimin and Jungkook know him well enough to give him a little space after a dance, but Taehyung isn’t in the loop yet. “Hobi-hyung!” Sweat has darkened the younger man’s light brown hair, and if it weren’t for his headband, it probably would have been dripping down his face. “Hyung, you were incredible! You have to teach me how to pop at your knee like that, I’ve only ever done my upper body!”
The disconnect is there, unbearably strong. It will fade in the next few minutes, leaving him just fatigued instead of full-on wrung out, but in the meantime Hoseok makes himself laugh. Taehyung deserves that much, even if it sounds strange to his ears. “Only if you teach me that expression you were wearing during the chorus while you were center. Think I saw a few people faint when you looked their way.” He laughs again, trying to make the sound more natural. Pretty much fails.
Taehyung seems grateful for the compliment, nonetheless. He bobs his head, flashing a boxy grin. “It’s not a fair trade. Making faces is easy; I think I’d have to be high to move like you were, if I ever could.”
His jaw abruptly tightens, tension arcing through his throat. So quick he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t expecting it, Jungkook and Jimin exchange a glance. They know (almost) all of his history. Jimin reaches out, plucks at Taehyung’s shirt sleeve. “Come on,” he whines. “Didn’t you see me? Don’t you think I was cool, too?”
It’s a masterful attempt at distraction, though Taehyung seems inclined to dwell on Hoseok’s moves. “Well yeah, of course! But what hyung did was –”
Jimin interrupts him. “Anyways, I want to introduce you to one of our friends,” he says cheerfully. “Seokjin-hyung. He works as a bartender here.”
“Oh, but Hoseok-hyung already–”
“I’ll come too!” Jungkook chimes in, and together they drag the bewildered Taehyung into the crowd and away. A kindness, letting Hoseok have this moment of weakness. What had he done in another life to deserve these people in this one?
What had he done? For just a second, a memory enters his head, of a few colourful blue and red tablets sitting in an outstretched hand. A voice, achingly ironic and raspy, asking, “You ready to get ecstatic?”
He couldn’t have said if it was the pill or the voice that he longed more violently for after the sodden rush of dance-inspired euphoria was gone. Given the way his eyes cut to the DJ booth, Hoseok supposes he has his answer.
He has his answer, but he doesn’t have what he wants. The press of people has dispersed with the dance-off, the clubbers are more interested in crowding the square than swarming the DJ, leaving his view clear for the first time tonight. There’s a girl working the booth. Not someone he recognizes.
Not Yoongi.
A shaky exhale splits his clenched teeth, and Hoseok closes his eyes. He hasn’t been listening to the music since they stopped dancing – not really – but it sounds different now. No longer as intimate, the connection between him and the rhythm is broken. Had he just imagined that bond before the dance-off, made up that gut-wrenching familiarity? Given that he hasn’t taken any drugs tonight, he seriously doubts that he has the creativity to imagine something so vivid.
Maybe the girl DJing learned in the same style as Yoongi. Maybe that’s what set him off.
He hasn’t had any drugs tonight, but he’s still coming down from a high. That’s how it always is, after dancing. He told his friends, his family, that he got clean, but it was a lie. Hoseok just replaced ecstasy, his drug of choice, with something else. Movement instead of MDMA. Not a bad trade. He couldn’t have made a career off of being a chronic user, after all. Couldn’t have found happiness, either. Probably.
His mouth is bone dry, and he’s lost sight of his friends. They’re probably busy harassing Jin. For a while Hoseok watches the other dancers, fingers tapping out a pattern on his thighs in time to the beats, grateful for the chance to pull himself out of his despondency with a bit of friendly critique. From what he can see, the group that went after them is the most skilled so far.
The couple he’d recognized earlier haven’t gone yet, and they’ll shake up the ranking, but slowly Hoseok settles into the comfortable conclusion that his crew is the best one here. It doesn’t matter – there are no announced winners – but it’s promising for the actual competition coming up in a few weeks.
Things get better. He gets better. He always does. By the time the couple finishes their piece – with a flourish of partner flips that have him joining the raucous cheering – Hoseok is back to feeling energized by the sweat still slick on his skin. He’s back to being overjoyed by the music beating against his eardrums, back to savouring the crush of bodies and noise and life that scream nothing more than here you are, right now, isn’t it amazing!
Even stepping in a thick puddle of someone’s spilled drink isn’t enough to dampen his spirits.
With a grin and a lighthearted curse, Hoseok heads to the bathroom, intent on wiping off his shoes. Sticky sneakers are a fact of life at clubs, but given that it’d been a mini lake of beer and he hates the sensation of his feet peeling across the floor, this seems to be a justified trip. Even better, the dance-off is finishing; he won’t be missing anything.
It’s as Hoseok is leaving the washroom, shoes squeaky clean, that someone grabs his arm from behind. Hard. He startles with a yelp that’s barely audible over the raucous noise of the club, his heart rate spiking. Moving jerkily with the admittedly excessive alarm pounding in his chest, Hobi turns to berate whichever of his friends thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.
Freezes. Stares. Doubts.
Hoarsely ironic, Yoongi observes, “Still as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks, huh?”
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Blades of Order & Chaos
Chapter Title: 8 - Rival
Previous Chapter: Lion VS Bear
Word Count: 5239
Disclaimer: All rights belong to Pixelberry. This is my version for the upcoming sequel of Blades of Light & Shadow. I am not claiming this to be the canon story of the book. This is only written to increase the hype for the actual sequel.
MC/Pairing: Kite (Blue Elf Male MC) / Kite x Nia
Taglist: @princessstellaris @mechaspirit @brightningstar @cal-north @lxdy-starfury @tyrils-star @imturaxamara @kelseaaa
In the middle of the Vishanti Kingdom market square, Kade comes face to face with the former prince of Morella, Aerin Valleros. While Threep glares along with Kade, Kite and Bella are left confused.
Kite: Kade, is this person a danger to us?
Aerin scoffs.
Aerin: I’m hurt, Kite. After a year of not seeing each other, you’ve forgotten all about me?
Kade: Kite lost his memories.
The prince raises his eyebrow.
Aerin: Oh? That’s quite unfortunate.
Bella steps up.
Bella: Hold on. Is there some romantic tension that I’m not gettin’ here?
Threep: This young man is Aerin Valleros, prince of Morella, who betrayed his people and aided the Shadow Court in their return.
Bella tenses up upon hearing the words, “Shadow Court”, but composes herself before walking up to Aerin and grabbing his collar.
Bella: So, this li’l fella is a problem to you guys then? Should we throw him off the mountain?
Aerin chuckles and sarcastically raises his hands in defeat.
Aerin: Easy, easy. I’m not even showing any hostility towards any of you… yet.
Kade: What are you doing here? How’d you even survive the Empire’s attack on Whitetower, let alone escaped your prison cell? Did they let you out and got you a spot in their ranks?
Aerin: What’s in it for me if I tell you?
Bella: We don’t let gravity decide your fate.
Aerin rolls his eyes and shrugs.
Aerin: Alright, fair enough.
Bella lets go of Aerin as he dusts himself off.
Aerin: A year ago, after you lot had your first encounter with that coward, Laundsellyn, he took me from my cell and dragged me into the Shadow Realm.
The prince then turns around for a stroll, signaling the party to follow him.
Aerin: After that, I thought I was done serving jail time, but no, they threw me into another cell for my failures in defeating you.
Kade: Well, it serves you right for joining the wrong side.
Aerin ignores Kade’s rude comment.
Aerin: I stayed in that cell for about three months and during that time, I’ve heard from one of the Shadow Guards that once served under me, mocking me and laughing about the news that Laundsellyn killed my father.
Kite notices Aerin clenching his fists in anger.
Aerin: Upon hearing my father’s name, visions began to clutter my mind, visions of the past that I cannot even recall, visions of me… and my brother, Baldur… actually getting along during our childhood…
Threep: I thought you two were at odds with each other until you plunged the Blade of Shadows unto him.
Aerin: That’s what I thought as well. For years, I believed that my brother had always been a condescending jerk who treats people who are beneath him as insects. But no, my memories proved that to be wrong as when we were young, he offered me to be his right-hand man, his closest advisor once he becomes king.
Kade: So, what you’re saying is that the Dreadlord somehow manipulated your memories, as well as Baldur’s in order to tear yourselves apart and use one of you as a puppet?
As the party nears the kingdom’s gates, Aerin stops walking.
Aerin: I don’t know. That’s what I intend to find out.
The prince moves forward once more.
Aerin: I spent my three months in solitary, recalling my memories and struggling from countless headaches, but I could not make any progress whatsoever. And then… he came along, Ignis…
Shivers run up everyone’s spines while Aerin clutches his chest.
Aerin: He visited my cell and “offered” me to join his ranks in exchange for my freedom.
Kade: Well, seeing you here right now means that you’ve obviously said yes.
Aerin turns to Kade with rage.
Aerin: I was not even able to give an answer!
Kade flinches as Kite gets between him and Aerin. Citizens begin to stare at the party.
Aerin: I was dragged out of my cell before that accursed devil casted a spell…
Aerin then tears open his shirt, revealing a Nerada Stone still etched onto its chest while small purple sparks surge through it.
Aerin: …on this damned thing, making sure that I get in line and follow the orders of the elf that killed my father, else I get electrocuted to death!
The prince then grips his hair as he starts to lose it.
Aerin: After that I was worked to the bone, slaughtering innocent people who refused to bend to the Empire and conquering peaceful lands across Morella, all while suffering from the headaches caused by those visions and the shocking pain that this stupid stone keeps bringing unto me!
Aerin then grabs Kite by the collar. Bella grabs onto one of Aerin’s arms.
Bella: Hey! No bright ideas, royal boy!
Aerin: How do you even live while you’re suffering like this, Kite?! After everything you’ve been through, being betrayed, being separated from those you love, being beaten to a pulp, and having your memories lost! How are you still moving forward?!
Kite is speechless while Aerin keeps rambling in tears.
Aerin: I’ve thrown it all away… I’ve surrendered myself to darkness… I’ve betrayed the people who once saw me as their friend… I’ve let my own father die under the hands of the elf I now work for… I’ve killed my own brother all because a dark entity severed our bonds and manipulated our memories…
Threep leans in on Kite’s ears and whispers.
Threep: We should leave quickly. Everyone has their eyes on us.
Aerin: The nesper is right.
Aerin sniffs and wipes his tears before letting Kite go.
Aerin: This should not be settled by just words.
He turns away.
Aerin: Meet me outside of town.
Aerin then walks off while buttoning up his shirt. The crowd avert their eyes from the group as the tension dies down.
Bella: Jeez, that was one helluva ride.
Kade: We can’t let him get away.
Threep: I believe that he wants to settle things with Kite through combat.
Kite watches as Aerin disappears into the crowd.
Kite: I’ll do it.
The party look at Kite with surprise.
Kade: What?! You do know it’s a trap!
Bella: Yeah, he’s with the bad guys, whether he likes it or not.
Kite: I don’t care. I can tell from how Aerin looked at me earlier. It’s like… he’s asking someone to save him.
Kite runs ahead to chase after Aerin while the party hesitates for a second before following suit. Threep gets on Kite’s shoulder.
Threep: I hope you know what you’re doing.
Kite: I am. You guys have to trust me.
Minutes later, in the outskirts of the Vishanti Kingdom, Aerin sits on the snow, gazing at the sky. His head begins to pain as a vision flashes in his eyes.
Aerin: Tch! Not again!
In his vision, he sees his young self being bullied by three kids in the town square of Whitetower.
Bully 1: Go back to your lush life in the castle, Valleros!
Bully 2: Yeah, no one wants you here!
Bully 3: Weakling!
Suddenly, Baldur appears, pushing the bullies away, and gets in between them and Aerin while holding a stick.
Baldur: Hey! Get away from my brother! He may be not as strong as any of us here, but he is sure as heck smarter than the three of you combined!
The bullies approach Baldur, cracking their knuckles.
Bully 1: Now, you’re asking for it, Baldur.
Baldur turns to Aerin.
Past Baldur: Stand up, Aerin. We can take them on together.
Past Aerin: O-Okay…
Aerin stands up and shyly raises his hands in self-defense.
The vision fast-forwards, minutes after the two brothers faced off against the bullies. They have a few bruises scattered around them, but they were victorious in the fight. Baldur is giving Aerin a piggyback ride.
Past Baldur: Good job handling yourself out there.
Past Aerin: You did most of the work…
Past Baldur: Nonsense. It was smart of you to poke their eyes, giving me time to whoop their butts. I’m proud of you.
Baldur grins while Aerin becomes flustered.
Past Aerin: T-Thank you…
The vision ends as Aerin is snapped back to reality and his headache fades away.
Aerin: How…? Where did it all go wrong…?
The prince turns around to see Kite and his friends standing behind him.
Aerin: You’re here.
He stands up and cracks his knuckles.
Kite: I’m guessing you wanna settle this in a fight?
Aerin: Yeah. Once I defeat you, the Hero chosen to defeat the Empire, right here, I will go back to Shadow Realm and claim vengeance!
Aerin puts his hand forward, materializing a polearm surging with Shadow magic. Kade grits his teeth.
Kade: A new weapon from Ignis, I presume?
Aerin: More or less. It’s called the Blackcliff Polearm.
Kade, Bella and Threep steps back.
Kade: Is it really okay for us to let this fight happen while not worrying about an avalanche?
Bella: It’s alright. The Vishanti placed wards around the mountain to prevent avalanches from occurring, guaranteeing the safety of their kingdom.
Threep: That’s a relief.
Kite unsheathes the Mirror Claymore, piquing the interest of Aerin.
Aerin: So, that’s the Mirror Claymore of the Vishanti. Quite the Sacred Treasure.
Aerin begins the fight by charging towards Kite and performs a few swings and thrusts with the Blackcliff Polearm, but the latter uses his elven senses to avoid all of them.
Aerin: Tch! Alright, how about this?!
Aerin leaps up and attempts to plunge the polearm on Kite, but again, the latter hops back, evading the attack.
Aerin: Got you now!
Aerin lets go of the polearm while it is planted on the ground before kicking it.
The polearm spins vertically towards Kite who blocks it with the Mirror Claymore.
Kite: Damn!
As the polearm begins to slow down in spinning, Aerin suddenly lunges forward and grabs it, surprising Kite.
Kite: What the—
Aerin then uses Shadow magic, transforming himself into a purple bolt of lightning, before traveling upwards. Kite and the party look up in awe.
Kade: What the hell is that?!
Threep: He has become stronger since we last saw him!
Three duplicates of the Blackcliff polearm rain down from the sky and plant themselves around Kite. Sparks then begin to appear on their tips. Kite attempts to block the incoming attack with the Mirror Claymore, but Aerin proves to be quicker as his lightning form comes crashing down onto the duplicate polearms acting as lightning rods. Kite gets electrocuted and hurled from the point of the attack, where Aerin is seen crouching down and holding his weapon, plunged onto the ground.
Bella: Sheesh, remind me not to mess with him when he’s this worked up.
Kite gets up while still recovering from Aerin’s attack. The prince stands up and pulls out his weapon from the ground, boasting about his successful attack.
Aerin: How was that?!
Kite: Tch! Not bad.
Kite gets up and dusts off his shoulder.
Kade: Wait, why was the Mirror Claymore not able to absorb the magic attack?
Threep: I believe that Kite was expecting Aerin to strike from above, even though there were duplicates of the polearm around him. However, when Aerin dropped and struck Kite’s guard, it wasn’t a magical attack, it was instead a physical attack. So, it didn’t count to the magic absorption power of the Claymore.
Bella: Then what caused the electric surge?
Threep: Electricity ran from the tip of Aerin’s weapon towards its duplicates while avoiding the Mirror Claymore, overloading them with magical energy to the point where they would explode.
Kade: That was… actually clever.
Bella: He managed to bypass the insane power of the Mirror Claymore.
Aerin rushes towards Kite once more, but the latter stays composed.
Kite: Aerin, you’re not the only one that has grown.
Kite raises the Mirror Claymore and slams it on the ground in front of him, scattering the snow and obscuring himself from Aerin’s sights. The elf then quickly casts a spell.
Kite: Chaos Magic: Moonlight Circle – Mirror Mirage.
Aerin: You can’t hide from me!
Aerin slashes the thin snow wall between him and Kite in half. As the snow parts, the prince comes face to face with multiple duplicates of his opponent, each holding the Bow of Gal’dariel in hand.
Aerin: Wha—
Kade: He used Mirror Mirage!
Threep: An excellent strategy. This should buy the real Kite some time to strike back.
Aerin stops in his tracks.
Aerin: So, this is the spell you used to escape the clutches of the Empire.
Kite and his duplicates draw their bows and arrows while aiming at Aerin.
Aerin: I know that most of those arrows are not real, but one of them can still pierce my body.
The arrows are let loose as they fly towards their target.
Aerin: So, as long as I find the real you…
Aerin does a forward flip, avoiding all the arrows, before slamming his polearm on the ground, unleashing arcs of lightning towards Kite and his duplicates. The arcs pierce through each duplicate as, one by one, they fade from existence, however, as the last duplicate fades away, the real Kite is nowhere to be seen.
Aerin: What?! Then… where is he?!
Aerin looks around, searching for the real Kite, when suddenly, the snow beneath him begins to move. He looks down.
Aerin: Can it be…?
Kite leaps up from under the snow, equipping the Gauntlet of Pain, and sucker punches Aerin, launching him far away.
Bella: Oof, that’s gotta hurt!
Aerin gets on his feet and wipes off the blood, dripping from his lips.
Aerin: But still not enough to make me concede.
He rushes to Kite, who unsheathes the Mirror Claymore.
Aerin: I will...!
Kite swings the Claymore like a baseball bat, but Aerin leaps to avoid it, ready to plunge his polearm.
Kite: Damn!
Aerin: …surpass you!!
Kite swiftly grabs the sharp end of the polearm using the Gauntlet of Pain, stopping Aerin’s attack, before hurling it behind him. Aerin ends up plunging his weapon on the snow.
Aerin: Tch!
He flips away, giving himself some distance from Kite. The two stare down at each other, waiting to strike.
Aerin: Why don’t we both bring out everything we’ve got?
Kite deeply inhales before casting Lion’s Pride, raising his physical attributes. Meanwhile, Aerin channels his Shadow magic, causing purple electricity to surge throughout his body, increasing his speed and agility. Bella steps in front of Kade and Threep.
Bella: We gotta stay back. When their attacks clash, it could be dangerous for us.
The party steps back a few feet and as soon as they did, Kite and Aerin charge at each other. They both swing their weapons, causing a strong shockwave upon collision. The two keep clashing, trading minimal blows and parrying each other’s attacks. While Aerin has the speed to strike before Kite could defend himself, the latter has enough endurance to not flinch from the attack and strike back.
Aerin leaps up, transforming into a bolt of purple lightning once more. This time, more than three duplicates of his polearm drop from the sky and surround Kite.
Kite: Tch!
Kite hops back, trying to get out of the field of polearms, but Aerin quickly descends from the sky, releasing magical energy to the polearms, causing them to burst with electricity before Kite could escape the area of effect.
Aerin: I’m impressed that you were able to survive that.
The light from the electrical surge fades, revealing Kite shielding himself with the Mirror Claymore as it is filled with magical energy that came from Aerin’s attack. However, the elf is left with burns across his body.
Kade: Kite!
Unconcerned with his own well-being, Kite swings his weapon, unleashing a magical projectile, shaped like a crescent and filled with Shadow Magic, towards Aerin.
Bella: Again, with that recklessness. Has he always been like this?
Threep: Sadly, yes, but it’s what got him this far.
Aerin imbues his polearm with Shadow Magic and uses it to cut the crescent in half, avoiding the attack, but as the crescent parts, Kite comes up right in front of Aerin, catching him by surprise.
Aerin: When did you…?!
Aerin then notices Kite conjuring a ball of Cleansing Fire from his hand. Kite swings his hand down, attempting to slam the fireball onto Aerin’s head, but the latter leaps back, evading the attack.
Aerin: It takes a lot more than a ball of fire to knock me down, Kite.
Kite looks at Aerin with a smirk.
Kite; What makes you think that it was going for you?
Aerin: Huh?
Kite slams the fireball onto the Mirror Claymore as it absorbs the magical energy, imbuing it with flames. He then charges forward while Aerin is still in mid-air, in the midst of avoiding the fireball.
Aerin’s Thoughts: Shit! I can’t dodge it! I have to block it!
Aerin holds his polearm up to block the incoming attack, but…
CLANG!!
…Kite disarms Aerin and sends the Blackcliff Polearm flying through the air, startling the latter.
Aerin: No!
The party starts cheering.
Kade: He did it!
Threep: Kite has the advantage now!
Bella: Nice!
As Aerin lands on the snow, Kite kicks his leg, forcing him to kneel in pain.
Aerin: Aah!!
Kite: Aerin… if you let only your emotions fuel your false resolve…
The elf then pulls his weapon back, ready to swing it.
Kite: …then you do not deserve to win this fight.
Aerin stares in disbelief before slowly lowering his head in defeat, accepting his demise.
Kade: Wait… is he gonna…?
Kite grips the hilt of the Mirror Claymore tight before swinging rapidly, aiming for Aerin’s neck, as if he’s trying to behead him.
Threep: Kite!
Fortunately, Kite stops short, with the blade of the Mirror Claymore almost touching Aerin’s neck. The prince’s heart momentarily pauses as he just looks at Kite, with an expression of pity on his face.
Aerin: W… Why’d you stop…?
Kite sheathes the Mirror Claymore before turning away and rejoining his friends. Aerin grits his teeth and stands in anger.
Aerin: Hey! Don’t walk away from me, Kite! Why didn’t you kill me?!
Kite stops in his tracks.
Kite: Because I cannot kill a man who is just asking for a death wish.
Aerin: What do you mean…?
Kite turns to Aerin, who was speechless.
Kite: Defeating me or the Empire? Can you even do that? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get yourself killed to end your suffering, even though it doesn’t work that way? You weren’t even giving your all during our fight.
Aerin: I…
Aerin trembles, slowly realizing how correct Kite is.
Kite: The fact that you can’t even take it upon yourself to end your own life and instead relying on others to do it, means that there’s still a part of you that wants to live on.
Kite turns back to his friends.
Kite: Once you’ve found your real self, the Aerin before the Empire of Ash, before the Shadow Court, before all of this, then come find me.
Kite continues to walk towards his friends.
Kite: I’ll be sure to fight you again… to settle this properly.
The party gathers around Kite, making sure he’s okay, while they all walk away from Aerin.
Kade: Are you hurt?
Kite: I’m fine.
Threep: Did you really intend to kill him?
Kite: I wasn’t trying to.
Bella: Are you sure you wanna face him again?
Kite: As much as I need to until he’s saved.
As the party disappears from Aerin’s sights, he grabs his weapon, before walking the other direction and wandering to himself.
Aerin: My… real self…
As the party and Aerin part ways, Laundsellyn watches from the sky, laying down on a hovering Blade of Shadows.
Sir Laundsellyn: Hehe, that was fun.
He squints and smirks at the party.
Sir Laundsellyn: Now… where could that Priestess be?
————— END OF CHAPTER —————
#playchoices#choices#choices stories you play#choices fanfic#playchoices fanfic#blades of light and shadow#choices blades#blades fanfic#bolas#choices bolas#bolas fanfic#blades mc#kade#choices kade#aerin valleros#choices aerin
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Can I ask what field your new job is in? I know you wanted to move away from law; I want to move away from the career path I've spent all the years since graduating university bolting myself to, and I just wondered how you did it/ if you did it, and what kind of sideways movements made sense for you?
For privacy reasons, I won’t talk explicitly about my new job, though you’re correct it’s not an attorney position. (I still love law but I’m not barred in Illinois and I haven’t been practicing long enough to waive in, which makes finding attorney jobs very difficult until I can retake the bar.)
I will say that if you want to move away from a particular career path, there are a couple questions I’ve found helpful to ask myself:
1.) What do I want to do when I grow up?
I am a big proponent of the game plan.
You can, of course, jump off a cliff with no parachute or idea of what waits for you at the bottom. That is a certain kind of game plan! And some people pull it off with great aplomb, I’m not knocking it. However, I am a risk-adverse, pragmatic scaredy cat, and I absolutely never start something unless I have at least a vague idea of the best- and worst-case results. So when I’m about to make a life change like “get out of terrible job, move back to Chicago” I start by figuring out—well, what the hell does that actually look like?
But before I think about what that looks like, I take a step back and ask myself a whole battery of questions:
What is my ideal, perfect-world job? What’s my title? What are the hours I work? Do I travel often, not at all, somewhere in between?
What do my dream responsibilities consist of?
How much interaction am I comfortable with—would I be happy sitting behind a desk all day, or do I want to be out among the people?
How much authority would be happy with? Do I want to be in charge, or is following orders where I’m most comfortable?
What else do I want in my life, such that I’m willing to make career tradeoffs? (e.g., do I want a family I spend lots of time with, a hobby I can devote myself to outside of the 9-to-5, a charity or start-up that I see as my real passion?)
Where do I want that perfect-world job to be? Am I happy changing cities, moving frequently, to pursue the work I want to do, or does location come first and drive what jobs I’m willing to take?
[An additional question you encounter a lot as a lawyer is: “are you okay not necessarily believing in the organization you serve? do you care whether you serve a particular mission, or are you really just here to draw a paycheck and not break laws?” but I recognize that’s a conundrum probably….unique to lawyers.]
After answering the questions above, you might realize that your exact, ideal dream job doesn’t exist—that’s fine! but a valuable first step is understanding what your priorities are, where you see yourself being happy, and what you think is important in your professional life.
2.) What steps would I very likely need to take to get there?
Even if it does exist, chances are you won’t be able to leapfrog from your current position to your exact, ideal dream job. (FYI, my current position is not my dream job or even really a stepping stone to the dream job; I made compromises based on other criteria.) So the next step is the inevitable plunge back into reality—namely, okay, so how the hell do I get to where I’m going???
If you don’t already know (which is likely, given that this isn’t your field) then this step is a knowledge-gathering endeavor. You’re trying to figure out what the path looks like, so naturally, consult other people on the path you’re interested in.
Personally, I highly encourage you utilize the absolute crap out of your network.
By which I mean: stalk facebook, LinkedIn, your school’(s) alumni pages, your parent’(s) friends, your friends’ friends, the people who work at the same place you do (even if you’ve never met them), everyone you have a mutual connection with via social media, individuals who belong to a professional association you hope to join, academics/journalists/lawyers/etc. with non-private twitters who you’ve looked up to for a long time and whose career you want to emulate, etc. If they’re nearby, invite them to a 15-20 minute coffee break. If they’re interested in mentoring, do lunch, dinner. Follow up with the professors who inspired you and email people who make news about stuff you want to work on. If you’re interested in going back to school for a degree (the clearest way to communicate a professional shift, fyi) then email the school you’re interested in and let them fete you. You’re going to be so obnoxious!!!*
* Do not be obnoxious. If you’re looking for a polite way to introduce yourself to someone you don’t know personally but hope to make a professional connection with, see me after class.
And honestly, sometimes the answer is a degree, a certification, a particular internship or a personal connection. Sometimes the answer is redrafting your resume. Sometimes the answer is “well, you’d really want to work as X or Y before I consider you for Z.” Sometimes the advice is, “sorry, we only consider graduates from this school/that internship/etc. and you aren’t so.”
You end up having to keep looking, and looking and looking. There are a lot of ways to get rejected from a job these days. There are similarly a lot of ways to get where you’re going, whether you know about them or not.
………I’d also urge you to keep in mind that all advice (all of it, even mine!) is personal. When people talk about their careers, career paths, and their strategies for attaining both, they are speaking from a deeply private place—as much as “how to know your romantic partner is The One.” It’s just a bit more prosaic in its outlook.
3.)What skills do I currently have, or can reasonable acquire in my current role, that will take me from A to X/Y/Z/or ultimately B?
Even if you could snap your fingers and go from point A (where you are) to point B (where you ideally, perfectly, want to be) chances are the you that currently, professionally exists wouldn’t be prepared for it. So as you think about transition to a stepping-stone job, or a new field, think seriously about what the hell you bring to the table and how you’ll convince that interviewer that actually, you’re perfect for the job.
It does take some creative thinking and a little bit of conniving corporate wordplay (which is fair game, as the corporations invented it first.) For example:
Have you worked as a McDonalds’ drive-thru window representative and shift manager for the past 5 years? well, congratulations, you are, right now, an expert in customer service and human capital resource management.
Are you currently a lowly typist-slash-clerk? well, mazel, because actually your specialty is in database management and particularly data cleansing, you could probably pass yourself off as an analyst if you knew a little R, python, or other programming languages.
Do you deal with disgruntled customers all day? Well done, because literally every industry will hire you, they all have angry people who call the hotline/helpline/tipline/etc. and are constantly on the lookout for humans who will not shout YOU ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE back at said disgruntled customers.
Have you been in a different industry, but are looking to transition to a similar role in a new industry? Well done, you, talk about your leadership, curiosity, and self-starter attitude. Managers love a self-starter, probably because they like to entertain visions of not having to do work.
If you feel you could attain the necessary skills in your current role, sometimes it’s just matter of talking to your current boss (depending on the boss!) Saying, “hey, I’m really interested in Z, could you put me on Z? is there any Z to be had?” is a good first step. Even just to tell the interviewer for a position with a lot of Z duties that you went to your boss saying “I want to do Z, Z is def a priority for me.”
4(ish): Keep reevaluating, based on the new information you acquire.
Going through Step #1 now, answering those questions about myself and my ideal work/workplace/job, is a completely different experience than it was in early 2018. As a recent law school graduate, all I thought about was finding the best learning experience—a year and 6 months later, having been run through the wringer of one helluva a learning experience, I can tell you that there is other stuff to think about. It’s not that my answers have changed, I would still be happy traveling, working long hours, with diverse clients. But there’s other stuff I couldn’t even conceive of then, that I realized (the hard way) was very important to me.
So don’t be afraid to revisit your answers, to keep thinking, reevaluating, considering where you are and where you want to end up.
205 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bad Dream Kisses
(1709 words) Destiel, explicit language, first kiss
Sometimes Dean's lucky enough to realize he's having a nightmare and smart enough to find a way to make it better.
Set somewhere in s15 probably
Read it on Ao3
Strictly speaking, Dean has a lot of weird nightmares. Far more than his fair share. And his life is constantly a bizarre real life nightmare so forgive him if he figures out a way to fucking tell the two of them apart.
For entirely too long when things get freakishly intense and he suspects he might be dreaming Dean's go to move involves hacking off a finger or two to wake himself up. It’s nothing important, just a pinky here or there, but obviously it’s a high-risk, high-reward scenario. If he ever assumes he’s in the midst of a liquor fueled bad dream and it turns out he’s wrong, well, fortunately it hasn’t happened yet. And, sure, losing a pinky in real life would suck, but in dreamland it’s always worth it. Anything to stop the madness.
For a while that works just fine, but then Dean comes up with a solution that’s a million times better.
Cas turns up in a dream while everything is going to shit and Dean really wants to wake up like fucking yesterday but for some reason slicing into himself has lost its appeal after so many times. And Cas is there, hovering close-by, making some observation that only Cas would notice and instead of reaching for his knife Dean reaches for that stupid trenchcoat, hauling Cas in close and planting one on him.
He’s got enough memories of kissing that it’s awesome. Almost feels real, and Cas is fucking kissing back so it’s automatically turning his nightmare into a wet dream. Now when Dean wakes up he's half hard and able to drop off again relatively easily. Which is a helluva lot better than waking up screaming and sweating so he’ll take it.
That becomes his new normal way to deal with nightmares and it’s easily the best thing his dream self ever came up with. Maybe even the best thing he’s ever come up with period.
It continues that way for a while and even fuels a few regular dreams where he gets to do more than just kiss those scowling lips.
So when Dean and Sam are stuck in a fucking barn and a ghost who he thought they’d taken care of three times already decides to throw pitch forks and shovels and fucking chainsaws at them, well, Dean starts to suspect that this particular brand of nasty undead bitch is just too over the top to be real life. That feeling increases tenfold when Cas just stolls in the barn door, striding towards the tractor they’re taking cover behind with fury in his eyes.
Cas can’t just pop in and out of Dean’s life like a celestial jack-in-the-box anymore and there’s no reason coming to mind why Cas would suddenly be here, so Dean instantly feels a flutter of happiness. Maybe this suckfest is just another fucking nightmare he can put to rest. It would explain the increasing dread he’s been feeling over one little ghost and how she’s been able to be all over town. Without thinking twice Dean grabs at the lapels of Cas’ coat reeling him in close for what’s sure to be the main event of this doomed dream.
Dean’s subconscious is on fire tonight. Cas smells so fucking good, feels solid and hard (no, not like that--well, not yet anyway) in Dean’s arms. He even tastes good. And the kiss. The kiss feels so much more real than normal, but it’s different too, Cas is somehow more stiff and it takes him longer than normal to kiss back.
But he does, eventually, and that’s all that matters. Cas wraps his arms around Dean and Dean leans into him because now it’s time for the good fucking dream stuff to begin. But then Sam yells, and that’s, well, not usual.
“WATCH OUT!!!”
Irritated at the interruption, Dean turns to look and the last thing he sees is a goddamn horse shoe flying straight at his face.
He wakes up in bed. Which okay. A pretty standard place to wake up. Instead of a hard-on he has a head ache. And Cas is still there, sitting on the edge of the bed and fussing over him.
“Whaa…?” Dean says softly not even sure the words make it out of his mouth, because he always wakes up in bed but Cas is never there.
But then Cas is looking concerned and petting at his hair and generally making a big deal out of nothing.
“Dean, are you all right?”
Dean pushes into a sitting position but it’s too quick. His head spins and Cas steadies him.
“It’s okay, you’re all right, Dean. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
“‘M not worried.” Dean manages to mumble and Cas only looks more concerned.
“You got hit in the head pretty hard. I was able to fix your concussion but you might not be at 100% still. With my powers the way they are… Well, anyway, I hope it was enough that it doesn't hurt. There shouldn’t be a scar. Oh, and we found the hex bag.”
Dean blinks at him. Confused. “Wasn’t it a ghost?”
As soon as the question leaves his mouth he remembers. Yes, it absolutely was a ghost. A regular she-demon, but if Cas is talking about a witch, then the whole ghost thing must have been a fucking nightmare after all. And thank Zeus (yup, not God, not anymore, he gets plenty of credit already that he doesn’t deserve) for that because Dean distinctly remembers kissing Cas recently and it, weirdly, feels a lot more real than when he normally wakes up, more vivid maybe, like a memory instead of just a quickly fading dream that leaves him feeling good.
Cas is talking but Dean is looking at his lips. Again. Shut up. And Dean is only half listening partly because of the staring and partly because he recently got clobbered over the head, thank you very much. Bits and pieces of it still seep through though and abruptly Dean realizes that Cas is talking about both. A ghost and a witch. Working together. Well, the witch had to be running things but that’s hardly important because Dean is still focused on Cas’ lips and, oh dear Poseidon, they’re fucking distracting. So much so that Dean is only now realizing he totally failed to notice that Cas stopped talking. When did that even happen? And how long has Dean just been staring without responding.
“Umm….”
Cas squints at Dean’s contribution, looking uneasy. And who can blame him. Dean tries to make his brain work, he really really does but then he notices Cas’ hair and it’s a bit more … well, fluffy than usual. Dean’s pretty sure he may have been responsible for that which… oh no. Now Cas is looking sad and guilty, of all things.
“I’m sorry about what happened, Dean. When you kissed me, I didn’t realize you’d been hexed. I shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dean asks but it comes out a little hysterical and what even is that?
“...No?”
“Cas, you didn’t. I didn’t--are you telling me that I, that I did? Wait. So, did I, did we really just full-on make-out in front of Sam and a ghost trying to kill me and it wasn’t another Nightmare on Elm Street scenario or whatever?”
“It wasn’t a nightmare, Dean.” Cas hesitates, all miserable and guilty looking again and Dean hates it. “But yes, you, I’m sorry I kissed you. I didn’t intend to upset you, but I thought, admittedly it was a little strange, the situation, yes, but I did think you knew, that you were aware of what was happening. Sam and I didn’t realize about the hex bag until afterwards. I didn’t know that you were under the influence of witches. And I apologize.”
“You weren’t the nightmare, dumbass,” Dean says, stern, because he can’t stand that look on Cas’ face. “I thought I was having one and….” Oh, shit, how does he explain this? Sorry, I just imagine sticking my tongue down your throat anytime things get tough in dreamland. Sure, that sounds legit. “Uh, that’s how I make them stop,” Dean finishes lamely, trying not to cringe.
Cas tilts his head at this new information, wanting to make sense of it.
“So, when you have a bad dream, you do something… unbelievable to test your reality?”
“Yep.”
“I see. Well, still, I shouldn’t have responded. I should have realized something was wrong,” Cas says and Dean hesitates, but then plunges recklessly forward because Cas did kiss him back and if this conversation doesn’t go well, he’ll just pretend he doesn’t remember it ever happening. He did suffer a blow to the head recently after all.
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Cas turns his head to glare at a nearby lamp and after a moment looks back at Dean.
“That’s not of import.”
“Cas, c’mon. Tell me”
“I liked that you kissed me.”
“See, was that so hard?” Dean scoffs, mainly to buy himself some time to deal with this landmine of new information.
He needs the perfect response. Needs to play his cards right if he wants to--oh fuck--those lips, why did he look at his lips again?
Cas wets them just to taunt him, the bastard, like Dean’ll be dumb enough to take the bait. And oh no, he is that dumb, he really is.
Dean leans forward, grabbing at Cas again so he can kiss him for a second time today, but without the worst audience ever watching for a change.
Cas gets with the program pretty damn quick and it’s fucking awesome. Dean’s a genius. And a great kisser, and Cas, he’s doing a bang up job too. Somehow better than Dream Cas by a long shot.
Dean smiles against Cas, kind of chuckles into his mouth a little bit.
“What?” Cas asks and damn his lips look even better flushed.
“I’m just so happy I’m awake.”
“Actually,” Cas says, mock serious, “I’ve been meaning to tell you--”
“Don’t even joke about that, you asshole.”
“Of course not, Dean.”
And Dean can’t stay mad, because Cas is kissing him again.
#my writing#writing is hard#this is the thing I wrote a lot of tipsy#and it was just a small idea that popped into my head while showering#i guess similar things have been done#i feel like destiel and dreams is a popular thing#hopefully this is slightly different#also first post from my new laptop!!!#it's so smooth#anyway#let me know what you think!#if you'd be so kind#if you don't like it blame#@winchester-reload#who suggested drinking and writing#;-D
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
A decade of friends - in no order, here’s to all the amazing people in my life old and new!
@shinkumancer : I remember following your work waaay back in the Archie Comic days. I had always been too shy to approach you, but I loved your work. I still remember so much of your Egg Boss art and it’s insane how far you’ve come. You’re still one of the sweetest, kindest people I know and I always enjoy the little drawpile sessions we have!
@zlatis-art : We haven’t been friends for very long - it’s roughly been a year, now, but it feels like we’ve been friends longer. Something just... clicked when we met, and god I came on strong looking back! I don’t regret it tho - taking the plunge and letting you into my life was such a good call. You’re super patient and you strive so hard to treat everyone fairly and give people so much love. You’ve come such a long way with both your OCs and your art, and our calls are always so much fun!
@sege-h : Would you believe I actually don’t remember exactly how we met...? I know it had something to do with the Sonic RPC iirc. But you’ve always been such a wonderful source of optimism and joy, and I love our talks! You’ve always been so supportive of me and I don’t know how to thank you for it?? I need to draw Storm and Carey doing more shenannigans when I get better!
@rainingautumn : I also don’t recall how, other than vague recollections of the Sonic RPC I think. I feel like I learned so much from you - you’ve provided me with different perspectives, which really helped me open my eyes to a lot of things. You’ve always been such a warm, positive presence while still standing firm and speaking up for yourself, which is so hard to do. I love your little messages, even if I don’t always know how to respond to them!
@boy-of-silence : You’re legit one of my oldest friends around and looking back on where we started it’s honestly kind of insane? We met on dA and we were practically babies like??? It’s insane, I remember so much and it all blurs together like mad, but we’ve always just sorta stuck by each other and I’m always so happy to see you on my dash. You got me into Homestuck, and you made me curious about Bioshock (I still need to finish Infinite), and I still remember the little art collabs we used to do...! I got nothing but good memories!
@kismeti : We don’t talk much, but I’m hoping to change that soon! I love your work, and you’ve put so much into your OCs. Seeing you tweet about petsites makes me think about Neopets and I age 500 years every time,, You honestly seem so sweet and kind and I can’t wait to see what more you’re gonna share with us in the new year!
@fini-mun : I don’t talk with you as much as I should (purely because I’m shy as all get out) but you’ve honestly been such an inspiration to me. You’re so incredibly kind and patient -- I still have that doodle you sent me while I had been down in the dumps. I remember I found you so intimidating when I first met you on dA, when I first tried to commission you -- and watching you grow as an artist and getting to know you has been so great! You don’t know how much I smiled that night when I expressed how I knew nothing about BatIM and you up and streamed the entire game live. I know we were both excited to play FO76 together and that was a let down for like, the entire fandom. But we should definately hang sometime and do stuff! Give your ratties my love!!
@oddpastrys : JAAADE,,, I vaguely remember meeting you in one of Kaden’s streams,, and then in Joan’s weird campaign. You’ve always been such a fun, energetic person and you always bring the best jokes. Deadass, watching RWBY with you both ruined it and enhanced it. You’re so much fun to be around and you always work so hard to cheer everyone up and please everyone, and we don’t say thank you often enough - I don’t thank you often enough. You’re so sweet and fun to be around and I’m 100% not sorry about all the horrible, horrible things I’ve made you see.
@calderscauldron : Kaden!!! You’re another one of my oldest friends, and it’ll never be wild to me how insanely lucky it was that I happened to move to the same state as you. I remember when we were dumb kids on dA, and how you used to joke about kidnapping me -- and how my first thought when getting to Texas was “I should see where this guy lives and meet up!” sjkfdjkfs It’s been a helluva ride and I don’t regret it. We had our bumps and fallouts but we’ve always worked through it all -- and your art has come such a long way. You’re always so sweet and so much fun to be around. You deserve so many nice things and I can’t thank you enough for sticking by my dumb ass for so long!
@haunted-pixel : Yet another decade-old friendship! Bronwyn it’s been such a fucking wild ride. I still remember your old OCs from back in the day; I remember our gryphon friend group, and our lizard group and screaming about digimon, I remember getting really into Kimba/Jungle Emperor Leo cos of you and your OCs, I remember all the drawings of Z and Miki. I remember Nuki and the others. It’s been such a long time and so much has changed around us both. We don’t talk as much anymore but I’m always thrilled when we do hit eachother up on twitter!! I seriously gotta draw more Carey x Zanity sometime. You’ve also just, improved so much as an artist and branched out so much?? Your plushies and your fursuits are absolutely amazing and I can’t believe how far you’ve come! I also still have the sketches you and your sister did for me when I was technically homeless and stuck in the hospital and I’ll always treasure them - and the Nack you made for me is still sitting cozy on my shelf, along with the yeen and Sonic you sent!
@nuttyrabbit : My absolute best friend!!! And probably most unexpected friend! I remember seeing your posts in the Archie Sonic tag way back when, and how my asshole ex used to rant about how she hated you for w/e reason. I used to be so intimidated by you because you told it how it is, and I respected your opinion so I was always lowkey afraid you thought I was stupid and hated my ideas/OCs. But even before we got close, you stuck your neck out for me when things got bad between my ex and me. And in 2018, we finally just started to click with our OC stuff. Lady Luck became a huge comfort dynamic for the both of us. You always argue against it but I still say you’re one of the kindest people I know. You always try to look out for me and find ways to lend a hand when things get tough, you’re always trying to help me when I’m down and you go out of your way to cheer me up and I can’t thank you enough. Meeting you at RTX this year was incredible. Thank you so much for being you. <3
@finitevus : We don’t talk much but I can’t not add you!!! You’ve been so kind and supportive to me, and artistically you’ve always been such a big inspiration. I love your character designs and your writing is so so good, and you always strive to be so positive and warm to others and I promise I’m not ignoring you when you reach out; I’m just very shy and dumb ankjdjkfs I need to,,, say hello on discord sometime. And draw you many things!
@lightdax : You’re always a whole lot of fun and I refuse to apologize for your eyes with half the shit you’ve been exposed to by proxy. You’ve always been really sweet and you’ve really been pushing to improve this past year and it shows! Take time off your mayoral duties for the town of Cuckoldia and put up your OC bios tho!
@nvllspace : I,, gotta tag ur RP blog cos IDK ur personal but JACKKIIEE. You’re so sweet and fun and your art is always such a treat. You came through with helping me realize just how toxic a certain person I needed to cut out of my life was, and you’ve always been so kind and supportive. You’re always a blast in our calls and I love your AUs so much! Also you need to stop having so many gorgeous characters cos holy shit,,,
@frecklefacefromouterspace : Nixe! You’re usually busy these days but whenever we do catch you it’s always fun. If it wasn’t for your old server, the current server wouldn’t have even existed and you brought us all together! You’re always so sweet and bubbly and you have one of the cutest, most distinct styles I know.
And to all my other mutuals - thank you all so much for sticking by me! I’m having difficulty typing now so I’m sorry I couldn’t get to everyone but sincerely: thank you, all of you, for making these past years such an amazing ride. I’ve learned so much from each of you and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for 2020!
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
Untitled Bounty Hunter AU Excerpt
Summary:
Someone put a bounty on Keith Kogane’s head. Space grifter Lance McClain intends to collect that, but nobody told him exactly who he’s delivering to the doorstep of the Galra Empire. And just how cute his ass is.
Word Count: 1.7k
Rating: Mature
Keith keeps a hand in Lance's coat pocket as they trudge through the whistling snow. Lance grins wickedly under the scarf pulled over his nose from the bar to Blue, only widening when Keith crowds against his back as he fumbles with the keys.
"Your ship uses keys?" Keith asks incredulously, but his voice is gruff against the wind and sends a thrill down Lance's spine.
"Hey, she's a high-functioning antique. I take spectacular care of her, so I won't have you insulting my Blue," Lance says as the door finally swings open. He turns around in Keith's arms and steps inside backwards, tugging him along.
It's a right fucking shame, really, this night won't actually end how Keith's dark smirk clearly wants it to. And, evidently, how the zipping under Lance's skin wants when Keith shuts out the Zarian tundra and pulls Lance in by his waist.
Like, the first time Lance finds someone who’s not covered in fur or frightening claws, someone who oddly looks so much like him, and he has other plans. What the fuck, fate?
This Keith Kogane is by no means an inexperienced kisser. It's evident in the way he angles them, bites at Lance's lower lip to trick him into slipping some good old tongue in. Lance groans into it, even as they hastily shed off their outer layers and Lance guides them--trips them--towards the back of the ship.
He breaks away at the short set of stairs leading to the lower deck and drags Keith down by his wrist. Blue kind of lacks doors, so there's only a few more steps before they reach the edge of the sprawling king bed complete with the most luxurious red silk sheets this side of the quadrant.
Keith stops running his hands enticingly down Lance's sides and raises an eyebrow at the bed. He doesn't even need to use words, because Pidge and Hunk have commented the same thing one too many times. Seriously? This is what you devote your limited floor space to?
"What? You're not going to be mocking it when I have you on it," Lance says.
Keith rolls his eyes—in a way that completely shouldn't send heat down his navel, but shamefully does—and goes in for another kiss, hands beginning to roam again.
Lance almost loses himself in the feeling of it, in Keith rucking up his shirt to find the grooves of his hips and, in turn, the dimples on his back right below his waistband. When they start to stray farther, he starts and snatches them away before they can feel the handcuffs still in his left back pocket.
Keith leans back, puzzled, but Lance smirks coolly and entwines their fingers, the leather of Keith’s gloves rough against his palms. God, what kind of guy wears fingerless gloves?
"Didn't take you for handsy," he hums.
"Only because you're slow," Keith scoffs.
"Yeah?"
Keith tilts his chin up in defiance, and that's all Lance needs to use his leverage to push Keith back until his knees buckle on the mattress edge. He flops down, their hands releasing as he catches himself on his elbows.
"It's all about foreplay anyway, Keith." He clambers on top, bracketing Keith's hips with his thighs and kissing the side of his neck. He nips at the skin with a little pride when Keith's breath hitches. "Feel bad for your other fucks if this is how you treat them."
"I don't—ah, I don't have other one-night stands," Keith replies, hands clenching in the sheets as Lance works his love bite.
He straightens abruptly. "Wait, really?"
"It's not a big deal," Keith scowls. "But I just accomplished something big on a mission, so I figured I'd treat myself."
And, really, maybe Lance should be worried at just how well their conversation and current...shenanigans are going, because a good 70 percent of him screams to just forget the bounty and go through with his next line:
"Guess I should reward you then, eh?"
But the rest, the reasonable 30 percent, bellows something like, Four million! Four million! Think of how many blasters you can weld to Blue with four million! Or the food he can buy, the clothes, and the trip he can plan back to Earth, the look on his mother's face when he lands for the first time in a decade on their front lawn—
Yeah, no, Lance has a job to do. There's no more time to waste. Not even on admiring the mark blooming just under Keith's ear.
He kisses Keith hard again, hellbent on working him up as he subtly scoots him up the bed. If Keith’s breathy moans and barely restrained hip rolls are anything to go by, it’s succeeding, though with the unfortunate side effect of sending Lance into a bit of a spiral, too.
When Keith relaxes against the pillows, Lance goes down with him. He runs his hands down Keith’s chest and yanks his shirt up his chest, and Keith pauses to pull it the rest of the way over his head.
Lance whistles, admiring the obviously conditioned muscles. Aged and fresh scars criss-cross the skin, including a slash of mutilated skin on his shoulder, but Lance is no stranger to the physical reminders of the Galra Empire.
Keith smirks anew at Lance’s distracted staring and doesn’t hold back when he rolls his hips.
“Jesus fucking Christ, who are you, and how did you get in my bed,” Lance groans.
“’m Keith,” Keith replies.
“Don’t be a smartass, that’s my job.” Lance glowers, but his attempt at daggering Keith into submission fails when he repeats the same friction—and if Lance lets this go on any longer, there’s no way he’ll survive.
So, he kisses him again, rougher and more unsteady than the last. He takes the chance to run his hands over Keith’s shoulders, down to his biceps, forearms, until Lance presses his hands into the silk. In the next breath, when Keith moans lewdly into his mouth, he takes both of Keith’s hands and raises them over his head.
Keith just whines, sufficiently distracted, as Lance gathers both wrists into one hand and reaches behind himself. He extracts the handcuffs from his pocket, brings them up to the pillow—
And snaps it over one of Keith’s wrists. Before Keith registers the cold metal, Lance snaps the other, and the tinny click activates the magnetic strips. In the next second, the handcuffs zap themselves to the metal wall of Blue, a low buzz indicating just how well Keith is now stuck.
Keith drops his head to the pillow and cranes backward to see the faintly glowing handcuffs. He looks back at Lance with a raised brow and quizzical eye.
“Shouldn’t kinks be something you discuss beforehand?” he asks flatly, still panting.
“Less kinky, more captured,” Lance says. “Guess you’re a different kind of fucked now, aren’t you?”
Keith’s smirk drops into confusion, understanding, and twists into outrage.
“Fuck you,” he hisses, yanking against the handcuffs hard enough to carve bruises. It sends the buzz into varying octaves with each attempt, but Pidge has truly done excellent work on them. They don’t even budge.
“’S no use, buddy, they’re a Holt creation,” Lance shrugs, sitting back on his haunches to appreciate his handiwork. “And it’s a shame, really. If you were anyone else, I’d definitely be blowing you right now. But you’re Keith Kogane, and there’s a bounty on your head for four million GAC with my name on it.”
With that, he climbs off the bed, righting his shirt and smoothing his hair back into place while Keith gasps and struggles on the bed. He’s still shirtless, his hair wild against the pillows. A forlorn part of Lance simmers with want, but he forces himself to look away.
“Think I might upgrade my baby to a key fob when I turn you into the Galra Empire,” he says instead, clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you did to piss them off enough to offer that bounty, but I’m gonna collect the shit out of it.”
At that, Keith falls limply against the sheets, alarm spreading through his wide eyes and breathing heavily.
“Lance, don’t—”
“Now, don’t mind me, I just need to pat you down a little.”
“You’re not fucking turning me in.”
“And why not?” Lance scoffs, starting at Keith’s ankles and working his way up. “I won, fair and square. I need that money.”
“You don’t understand, they’ll kill me—”
“What the Galra do is none of my business. I just collect the checks, man.”
“They’ll kill everyone—”
“Cut the sob story, this isn’t Space Dr. Phil.”
“I can’t believe I was about to fuck you, you asshole.”
“That was my genius plan.” He feels Keith’s thighs maybe a little too enthusiastically as he reaches the belt slung over his hips. “Oh, hello. Jackpot.”
He undoes the buckle and slips it off. The supple brown leather dangles from his hand with the weight of a peculiar black sheath.
“Lance—”
He admires the well-crafted hilt before sliding the blade carefully from its home, resting the curved, cool metal in his palms.
“That is one helluva dagger,” he says, turning it over. “It’s gotta be expensive, could treat my friends to a nice dinner with it, maybe…”
An emblem on the hilt catches his attention. His stomach swoops as he studies the strange insignia, a set of purple lines carved into black. It feels familiar. No, he’s definitely seen it before, though he honestly can’t—
No, no, he can. He does.
A massive, bloodstained sword skitters into the path of his feet, only inches away from his bare toes. His eyes whip up to the scaly Galra thrown to the floor, a cry wrenched out of her upon impact.
She turns her torn face to him and hoarsely shouts, “Go, go! Join the others!”
He reaches for the sword, marveling at the glowing purple insignia embedded into the hilt, but a sentry thunders down the hallway. As it raises its spear and plunges it straight into her chest, he wails and stumbles the other way.
Lance blinks, and the memory dissipates, leaving behind phantom terror coursing through his chest.
“Holy shit!” he yelps, tossing the blade onto the bed and hopping back several paces. He gapes at Keith, at Keith, whoever the fuck Keith is. “You didn’t fucking tell me you’re a—a member of the Blade of Marmora!”
#klance#klance fic#vld fic#klance fanfic#vld fanfic#my fic#official fic tag#because WHY not put it in the official tag yk#this piece resuscitated by creativity#sorry for the untitled i can't be bothered to spend time thinking of one right now#but i've had thisidea for a while and i wanted to explore it!#please mind the rating!
86 notes
·
View notes
Text
Young Hope: Chapter 25
Echoing throughout the halls of a dark and foreboding lair be the painful grunts of two younglings, sounding out from a pair of boys trapped within a small arena; drops of their blood staining the stone beneath their feet.
A young boy with wavy long hair blocks his body from the other with black and white hair, defending himself from his opponents unrelenting barrage; the constant blows pushing the boy back towards the edge of the arena.
Watching outside the stone ring, a young girl with long blonde hair looks on with intense worry; her little dot eyes glued to both of the little boys trapped within the arena.
The black and white haired young boy refuses to let up in his beat down, his constant assault pushing his foe out towards the edge of the arena; the wavy haired boy feeling the rim of the ring under his feet.
His foe pushed to the edge, the young black and white boy readies to deal the finishing blow; pulling his fist back as he aims for the other boys face.
Upon instinct, the wavy haired boy evades his opponents punch; the dodging giving him the perfect moment to counterattack.
Not wasting the opportunity a moment further, the wavy haired boy plunges his fist straight into his foes stomach; the sudden blow knocking the breath out of his foe’s lungs.
Stunned by the stomach punch, the black and white boy can do little as his young opponent continues to follow up his offensive blitz; the wavy haired boy striking at his chest, shoulder, and head.
These blows prove themselves enough to knock the black and white haired boy off his feet; falling upon the cold hard stone of the arena.
Though he attempts to pick himself up, the black and white haired child is swiftly pinned to the ground by his foe’s feet; gazing up to the wavy haired boy towering over him.
His foe defeated beneath his feet, the wavy haired boy holds his fist up as he prepares to deal the final strike; hesitating as he finds the black and white child trembling beneath his feet.
Left unsure by the site of his defeated foe, the wavy haired boy glances behind himself; gazing out beyond the arena to meet with a foreboding figure hidden within the vial of the shadows.
Though the boy finds nothing but the figures glaring eyes, the mans reinforcing squint is all it takes to send chilling shivers down the child's spine; the little boy tightening his fist from the bone shaking stare.
The wavy haired boy gazes back down to the other child trapped under his foot, discovering tears dripping down the black and white haired boys face.
Producing tears of his own, the wavy haired little boy’s face tightly scrunches; keeping sharp aim at his foe’s crying eyes.
At last, the wavy haired boys throws his trembling fist down towards his helpless foe; a blood curling cry escaping from the black and white boy that echos throughout the entire castle.
The painful shriek proves loud enough to reach outside the lair, echoing out into the moonlit night above the horrid keep.
The moons bright lunar glow shines down onto a shinning golden tower below; its shimmering surface reflecting the moonlight down to the bright foreign city below, the light swallowed by the bright twisting buildings surrounding the tower.
Right along the very top of the shinning tower, lime green flames spontaneously burst from thin air; the fires swiftly taking the form of two figures.
The mighty green flames soon reduces themselves to embers, unveiling behind their fires both the Young Blood Alliances leader and his catty partner in crime.
Freshly warped onto the top of the tower, the duo wonder to the roofs very edge; gazing down upon the bright metropolis below.
“The enclosed city of Lorduna. The rumored metropolis said to only have traces of the outside worlds influence.
The culture and technology of this kingdom being nearly untouched and alien as an outer world civilization.” Drake goes on to describe; her partner pulling out a small blue capsule from the inside of her fuchsia suit.
“And now that we’re finally here, we can finally pop open the capsule that your dear old daddy gave us.
You find out why he wanted us to wait til we got here to open it?” Alisha questions.
“He...didn’t exactly give any specific reason. He simply stated that it was for security purposes.”
“Did you at least ask what kind of security?”
“I...found it best to not question his judgment.”
From her partners statement, Alisha’s gaze deflates from suspicion irritation to uneasiness worry; hoping to diverge from the matter by insisting that they:
“Lets just get this over with.”
Saying such does the cat burglar split the blue capsule in half, revealing within its plastic a small metal insect and a little green pill; the duo curiously gazing upon both tools.
“What the...what the hell am I looking at?” Drake question.
“I was kinda hoping you’d know.”
From within the shell of the capsule, a bright blue light shines out before the two; the light soon taking the form of Drakes father.
“F-Father!” the young man stammers as both are taken aback.
A small smile forms between the holographic mans cheeks, greeting the two with:
“Greetings, you two. If you’ve opened this capsule, then it means you’re standing over the capital of Lorduna as I speak.
The reason I didn’t brief both of you your mission is because this civilization has advance methods of tracking communications from even beyond different worlds.
Informing you with this method thankfully holds a lot less risk of outside forces listening in.”
Glancing away from the holographic figure, Alisha looks to the young man beside her; discovering her partner forcefully remaining stiff and firm with sweat running down his forehead.
“The small insect planted within this capsule is the result of our top scientists and Shen Mi’s practices coming together to forge this perfect fusion of magic and machinery; crafting this enchanted power controlling parasite.
With it, you two are to infiltrate and descend from the very top of this towering capital down to it very underbelly.
Underneath this spire lies the source of this metropolis’s limitless power, where the insect you hold shall be used to render its very core under our control.”
This description explained, Alisha holds the metallic insect between her claws; inspecting it to discover a faint lime glow behind its shining metal shell.
“The green pill on the other hand is a powerful obedience drug. Meant to dissolve the will and mind of whoever ingests it.
Crafting together even one of these admittedly wasn’t easy; such ingredients used to concoct it being sparse and taking millennia to naturally produce.
The two of you are to utilize this once in a lifetime narcotic to drug this hidden nations king; hypnotizing him into our obedient puppet.
Accomplishing these two objectives shall render Lorduna under the Alliances control in a single night, all without anyone being the wiser.”
After the mans message ends, his figure begins to morph before their eyes; the hologram soon taking the form of what seem to be a map.
The 3D map presented to the duo resembles the very tower underneath their feet, including details of specific rooms, such as the banquet hall, kings quarter, surveillance room, and the cores chamber resting below the entire building.
“Well, I suppose we have our mission now. Lets be off, then.” Drake declares. As he walks towards the center of the roof.
“Hold up a sec.” Alisha urges.
The request from her catty partner in crime causes him to halt in his venture, turning back towards the cat burglar and questioning if there’s:
“Something the matter Alisha?”
“Damn straight. I got one hell of a bombshell to drop on ya. Meant to tell you earlier, but you were already with your dear old daddy by the time I found ya.”
“Oh? I suppose now would be the best time as any to set it off. What’s the word?”
“Couple days ago, an old friend of ours popped back onto the scene; saying something about wanting back on the team. Think you can guess who he might be?”
With his partners news, Drake takes a moment to ponder aloud; recollecting on how:
“There’s only a select number of others that I know of close to my age range...aside you, of course.”
A small breath passes through Alisha’s lips as she shakes her head, deciding that:
“Alright, guess I’ll cut ya some slack and give you a little hint.
Picture this: You’re holding in your hands a full decked out cone from a little chain ice cream parlor all the way out in China, covered in a snowy white ice topping as bright and cold as winter itself.
But underneath the white shell be a tasty, black chocolate cream; ready to kung fu kick the inside of your mouth with one helluva flavor.”
It takes a moment for the Alliance leader to reliably remember who in his life matches her catty partners apt riddle; such tasteful description leaving the young man thinking, if a little hungry.
He begins to specifically focus on key words in the story to guide him to the answer.
China...White topping...chocolate underneath...Kung fu…No...
Pondering these words, Drake suddenly understands who Alisha is referring to; a young boy whom of which he had hurt and drove away so long ago.
“Xain...”
“Ding! Ding! Right on the mark! One of the original three Alliance members! He came out of the shadows of China’s underbelly, ready to rejoin the team.
I honestly can’t believe it either, I really didn’t think we’d run into him again; especially since what...happened...last time...Oooh...” the cat burglar stutters, soon remembering what made their friend leave in the first place.
Glancing back, Alisha discovers Drake standing along the very edge of the rimmed rooftop; gazing down to the brightly lit city below.
The cat woman slowly starts to approach the young man; uttering out to him if:
“Are...Are you-”
“How is he?” Drake suddenly asks.
Hearing his question makes the fuchsia feline stop in her tracks, informing her partner in crime on how:
“Xain is...doing way better these days actually. He’s gotten a lot of training in since he left. He could become a fantastic asset to the Alliance.”
“...Did he mention me in any way?”
“Uh...Not really...What are you thinking about doing with him?”
Though Alisha awaits for his answer, Drake gives her nothing but cold silence as he continues to stare down to the city below; finally breaking away and suggesting that they:
“Lets simply move on.”
Despite her leaders orders, the cat woman can’t shake the worry of Drake taking such heavy news; nonetheless pulling the capsule right back out.
“Right.”
Gazing upon the holographic layout of the tower beneath their feet, Drake takes out his phone and takes a picture of the entire map.
After snapping a copy of the map for himself, the Alliance leader glides his finger over where the surveillance room stands; pointing out how:
“Before we proceed, our first priority should be to disable the surveillance station if we have any hope of traveling through this tower with little trouble.
A task that sound more befitting for a master of espionage such as you Alisha.”
Taking the compliment with a small giggle, the cat burglar herself confirms his statement with:
“Naturally; and where might you be hiding while I work my magic?”
“I’ll will conceal myself in the shadows of the elevator shaft, patiently awaiting for the moment you take care of what could be our biggest obstacle.
We shall discuss the plan further once safely inside. Do you wish to do the honors or...”
“Oh please, allow me.”
Saying such does Drake catty partner bend herself down to the golden roof beneath their feet, stretching her hands out to let her claws protrude from her fingers.
Once taking her sharp nails out, she wastes no time in making a point of entry for the both of them; encircling her claws along the piece of roof in front of them.
It only takes gliding her claw through the gold once for the circular piece to loosen, Alisha digging the rest of her nails along the sides of the cut circle and starting to pull.
The cat burglar soon pries the circular piece off the golden roof; the light of the inside shining out from the freshly made hole.
“Excellent work as always, Alisha. Care to take the first steps?” Drake offers.
“Just gimme a second.”
Requesting this, the cat burglar is the first of the two to quietly slip inside; sticking her paws to the golden underside of the ceiling as she proceeds inside.
Utilizing the sticky paws of her cat suit, the master thief crawls along the ceiling; surveying where exactly she just broke into.
Fancy tables and chairs, red velvet carpeting, curving windows providing a stunning view of the city below; these guys got some real class up here.
Pretty safe bet to say that taking your date here guarantees a magical night; eating a fancy meal with your lover as both of you take in the gorgeous view beside the table. Nothing better for making loving memories.
Not to mention topping the night off with passionate sex back at the hotel afterwards.
From surveying this lovely dinning hall, the cat burglar manages to spot a sort of odd camera perched along the top of the edge; the camera sporting a sort of flat circular design resembling an eye.
Despite its unusual design, a camera is still a camera at the end of the day; all of them sharing the same failings as every other security cam.
With this in mind, Alisha crawls along the side of the dining hall to avoid the eye like camera’s site; all the while pulling out a special camera of her own.
After taking a quick picture of the lovely golden hall below, a photo slide out from the bottom of her phone; soon getting out a roll of sticky tape and pulling a piece off.
Sticking the length of tape to the top of the picture, the cat thief plants the photo right in front of the flat eye; obscuring its site from the real dining hall.
Once finished taking care of the security cam, Alisha drops down to the dinning hall below; landing right on her feet upon the soft velvet carpet.
Free from the detection of the camera, the cat woman drops to the carpeted floor below and takes the time to take in the hall windows gorgeous view; gazing down to the city’s twisted and interconnected buildings below.
While taking in the illuminating view, the fuchsia feline notices a hint of gold in the reflection of the window turning back to discover an armored guard lunging right for her; thrusting his sharp spear towards her.
Alisha swiftly evades the soldiers lethal lunge, gliding across the spears golden rod to close in upon its wielder; using her claws to slash out towards the neck.
The guard turns away from the cat burglars claws, blocking the sharp nails with the diamond tip protruding out from the back of his helmet; the diamond showing not a single scratch from her claws.
Before the cat woman could retreat away from the soldier, Alisha soon feels the diamond hard end of the guards gauntlet strike at her side; the blow sending her out towards the center of the dining hall.
Stopping herself short of the golden cone behind her, the cat girl gazes back towards the direction of the guard; stunned to witness the armored soldier rapidly approaching.
Just before the golden guard could thrust his spear into the cat like trespasser, he soon feels the something plunge straight through his armored breastplate; glancing down to find a second intruder driving his arms through the soldiers chest.
Dislodging his arm from their foe’s armored chest, Drake knocks the golden guard to the red Velvet carpet; turning back to his catty partner and asking:
“Are you alright?”
“Uh...yeah. I’m alright. Just a kinda dazed.”
Answering as such, Alisha approaches the freshly killed guard; inspecting the metallic golden armor coating his body.
“Hard to believe this asshole was so quiet wearing such tacky as hell armor. I mean golden swirl designs and diamond ends? So last decade.”
“There armor must hold some sort of noise reducing components to render them nearly silent. If that be the case, we’ll need to practice more caution while traversing further down the tower.
Before we depart however, what exactly should we do with our golden interloper?”
Both glance down to the corpse of the guard in question, the pieces of his armor stained in crimson red.
“Obviously, we can’t leave him lying here for anyone to happen upon.
But I doubt the roof would be a better option, the sleek top of the tower could send him plummeting to the city below; not to mention that none of the equipment we could use now could suspend him effectively.
I’m wondering if we should hide him in the elevator with us.”
“Nah, we don’t gotta be doing anything that desperate.” Alisha denies.
“You have somewhere in mind?”
Back atop the towers roof, Drake stares out to the center with doubt in his eyes; Alisha returning to his side as she wipes the blood off her suit.
“This...isn’t exactly what I had in mind. Are you sure this is the best place to hide the corpse?”
“Drake, believe me when I say I’ve had a ton of experience concealing all kinds of cadavers. This girl knows a thing or two about hiding dead bodies.
Besides, how many people are gonna bother climbing up here anyway.”
“Oh no, I’m well aware of the practice; I’m more curious why you left our dead friend in such a...questionable position.”
Hanging dead at the center of the tower roof, the golden armored guard is perched right in the middle of the towers sharp spire, the tip golden tip protruding out from his chest.
“You said you wanted him somewhere he won’t slide off, so here ya go! Freshly made golden guard kabob.”
“Mmm...Fair enough. I thought it was because you found it funny…I mean that’s what I do with bodies sometimes.”
“...Let’s just continue on.”
The cat woman suggesting such, the duo jump back inside; Alisha plugging the hole with the golden circle she cut out.
Faced with the steel doors of the elevator, Drake slithers his fingers along the small gap of the hatch; driving his hand between the metal doorway.
After digging his hands between the steel, the young man easily forces the pair of metal doors open; unveiling behind the hatch the deep cylinder shaft.
When Drake readies to descend down into the shafts darkness, his catty partner suddenly grasps his shoulders; the leader glancing back as Alisha question:
“So…are you gonna be okay taking the news about uh...”you know who” coming back?”
“Fret not, Alisha. As long we keep the mission in mind, I’ll be just fine.”
Telling his partner such, the two leap down into the depths of the elevator shaft; sliding down the shafts walls to slow their descent through the vertical tunnels.
Their slide down the shaft starts to take a bizarre turn, the two soon finding the shaft twisting and turning in ways that modern shafts can only hope to do; Drake struggling to keep his hands on the twisting walls of the tunnel.
Thankfully though, the duo of criminals soon land right atop the elevator itself; landing on its top as it continues to descend down.
Once they have their feet firmly on the steel of the elevator, both Drake and Alisha pull out their phones; turning their devices to vibrate as they check the time.
“Since direct communications are strictly prohibited, we’ll have to relay on strategic chronological planning.
As we speak, the time now is 1:40 A.M. While I patiently wait here for you to disable the towers surveillance system, you will have until 2 sharp until I ready to set out for the King quarters.”
“20 minutes, seriously? That’s a bit to generous for me, don’t you think?”
“Hm mm mm mm! A little room for error, I assure you.
After you take care of the camera’s, I shall only take about the same time to put the king of this land under our control.
From there, I shall command the royal fool down towards the core’s chamber, where you shall meet me at 2:30 to plant the bug within the core.”
“So you wanting the two of us to do all this shit and take control of an entire nation in less than an hour?…
Now that’s sounding more up my alley. And here I was thinking you were squandering my talents.”
“I expect no less from you. Now take this.” Drake mentions, handing his catty partner in crime the blue capsule.
Opening the capsule once more, she finds the holograph of the entire capital; though only the little metal insect inside.
“While I hold onto the hypno pill. I want you to take the holo map and corrupting bug with you.
I have a feeling you’ll be best utilizing it to navigate the air ducts of this tall tower.”
“Right, just gimme 20 minutes then.” Alisha assures, ready to leap off the elevator.
“Oh, and Alisha.”
Hearing her partner, the cat woman turns back and asks:
“Yeah?”
“Good luck.”
This compliment causes the cat burglars lips to form a small smile, returning it with:
“You too, Drake.”
After this exchange, the Alliance leader watches the master thief climb up the shafts steel wall; her fuchsia figure dissolving in the darkness.
The son of evil sits upon the elevators roof cross legged, opting to simply meditate until the time he can spring into action comes to.
Rapidly climbing up the elevator shaft, Alisha pulls out the blue capsule to take a quick look at the holo map; the dot showing her position revealing to be only a few floors away from where the surveillance room stands.
Though cat burglars eyes soon discover another problem; even with the air ducts twisting and stretching along the entire building, none of them lead into the room itself.
The closest point of entry she can find herself taking be a research room on the same floor, the lack of guard patrol details however stirring a bit of nervous tension within.
With how nearly silent the last guard was, it may be a bit of a challenge to predict where the other golden guards might pop up; definitely a far cry from the armor-less monks back in China.
The difference should mean little to the cat woman though, simply practicing more caution and keeping out of the line of site should make this mission go smooth sailing.
With the dangerous detour in mind, the cat thief puts the capsule away and continues up the twisting elevator shaft; her claws digging straight into the steel of the vertical tunnel.
Alisha soon comes across the grate to the air duct she needs to squeeze through, the vent being a little smaller than she had predicted.
Still, it ain’t something a master of espionage can’t get through; the years of acrobatic training granting her a lumber and flexible figure.
Applying such experience, the fuchsia feline breaks off the grate and starts to squeeze herself through the tight air vent; utilizing her claws to pushing her body down the duct.
Even with the vents tight steel scraping against her suit, Alisha pushes herself onward; keeping herself as silent as possible to ward off any attention.
Keeping the layout of the ducts in mind, the cat burglar swerves through the dividing turns of the maze like vents; the light of the outside shining upon her stomach as she passes through circular grate after grate.
Eventually, the feline spy comes to the room that she opts to go through; peeking through the vent grate to discover a sort of research facility filled with holographic computers displaying numbers and a foreign language.
The research chamber proves to be nearly void of any present staff, with the exception of which being a single female employee; the tired researcher scrolling through various holographic charts and graphs of various info.
Why the hell this girl workin so late? Don’t she know what time it is over on this side of the globe?
Bitch must’ve got stuck on the graveyard shift while her asshole supervisor went off to jack off somewhere.
Kinda feel a little sorry for her, but oh well. Wrong place at wrong time. Shit needs to be done while time’s is ticking.
As the employee scrolls through the holographic documents before her, she’s barely able to keep herself awake; her eyes slowly starting to close themselves as her head lowers.
Before she could drift off to a one way ticket to slumber city however, the researcher shakes her head awake; slapping both of her cheeks as she tells herself:
“(Quit dosing off Marondal! You’re so close to the answer; so close to finding the source of the core’s infinite power. You can’t stop to rest now!)”
Though she attempts to put her focus back to her research, a small noise suddenly breaks her concentration; the scientist swiftly turning back.
Not seeing a single soul behind her, the researcher begins to stroll through the golden laboratory; all the while calling for whoever she heard with:
“(Hello?...Is anyone else in here?)
As the employee continues her sweep through the dimly lit lab, her feline dressed intruder stealthily hides herself behind the computer consoles; peeking out from one of the holographic computers to discover a surveillance eye perched atop a corner of the lab.
Unable to take a convincing shot of the room with her camera, she opts to tear a piece of her own suit as substitute; the sound of ripping catching the attention of the tired scientist.
Rushing over to where she heard the sudden noise, the employee peeks behind one of the holographic computers to discover nobody hiding behind the console.
Hidden behind the neighboring computer, Alisha takes the moment to toss a small kunai towards the eye like camera, the ripped piece of her suit attached to the knife via a wire string.
The small blade digs straight into the roof above the camera, the piece of the cat burglars clothes concealing its birds eye view of the laboratory.
Rising from the labs marble floor, the scientist lets out a weary breath; commenting to herself on how:
“(God almighty. These long research night might be starting to get to me.)”
Despite saying such, the research starts to stroll back to her computer; sounding off a tiring yawn that echoing through the lab.
This yawn is quite literally cut off when she feels sharp stinging sensation at the back of her neck; grasping the spot of the sting in pain.
A horrid sense of dread soon makes her stop, feeling a warm liquid drip along her palm; swiftly putting her hand to her face to discover ruby red blood staining her hand.
“(What!?)”
Glancing towards her side, the scientist discovers the fuchsia feline rising from the polished marble; Alisha herself gazing at the researcher with her ice cold glare.
“(Is...this...a night...mare?)”
These last words uttered from her mouth, the employee begins to collapse towards the floor; the cat burglar catching her body before she could fall onto the marble.
As she covers her victims wound, Alisha cradles the dead researcher in her arms; gazing around the laboratory and wondering where exactly to hide the woman’s corpse.
A question that she’ll have to answer fast, as the sound of footsteps reach her ears.
The door to the laboratory soon slides open, another scientist peeking inside and calling for:
“(Marondal. Are you in here?)”
Her call echoing through the lab, the researcher finds nobody dwelling within the dim research chamber; strolling further inside to investigate.
Amidst her search, the scientist discovers the open hologram page left on her partners desk; approaching the computer to see what she had been working on.
“(This...is the core.)”
The second researchers curious inspection gives Alisha the perfect moment to move out; quietly sneaking out from behind a piece of equipment left at the wayside.
With her cast kunai beginning to plummet down to the hard marble floor, the cat woman leaps in the air and catches the small knife in her paws; landing back on the ground as graceful and quiet as an actual feline.
As the fuchsia spy makes her escape through the open door, the scientist she leaves behind can’t help but wonder aloud:
“(What were you onto, Marondal?)”
These questions may never come to be answered, as her partner has been swiftly silence; bits of her blood dripping out from the vent.
Back within the dark veil of the elevator shaft, Drake passes the time by continuing his meditation as he awaits for the moment to move out; the voices of a former friend worming their way into his mind.
What are we doing today, Drake?
You feelin okay, you seem kinda stressed?
I’m more a fan of the bear style then the snake?
Bet I can’t guess what your favorite ice cream flavor is.
Your dad want’s us to fight tomorrow?
Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ll do great.
May the best boy win!
Ah! Oh! Ow! Gah! AAAAAHHHHGGGGHHHHHHH!
The agonizing shriek that echoes in his minds snaps the Alliance leader out of his meditation, coming to reality in a cold sweat.
Drake quickly begins to calm his hyperventilating, wiping off the sweat from his forehead as he shakes off the scare.
After calming himself down, the young man pulls out his phone to take a look at the time; find it to only be 10 minutes before the clock strikes 2.
Only 10 minutes before showtime, huh...Perhaps 20 minutes might have been too long after all.
Quietly sprinting through the descending halls of golden tower, the fuchsia feline quickly checks her holo map to find her position; discovering herself only a stretching hall away from the surveillance room.
Looks easy enough, but some people say the same thing as espionage; just being all cool in a cat suit, sneakin around.
Never mind the fact of hiding bodies, getting past security systems, guards patrolling the place.
Yeah Victor, espionage is just overly fancy hide and seek; its not like your putting your life or reputation or hard work on the line. The hell does he even know?
In the middle of pondering such, Alisha finally comes to the end of the curving hall; finding it lead to the stretch of hall that the map had shown.
It seems like such a simple and straight forward path to take, say for a couple of troubling roadblock taking the form of golden guards, hanging around near the end of the hallway.
The three of them don’t exactly seem to be taking patrol routes, just hangin around and talking to each other.
Seems pretty easy to sneak past, except for the lack of any reliable hiding spots; not a single piece of décor along the floor to be seen.
Though the cat burglars eyes are nowhere near the polished marble floor; Alisha gazing up to the ceiling to discover another place to conceal her presence.
Lining the ceiling of the golden hallway be wide decorative arches, descending down towards the bottom ends of the floor; they should make the perfect spots to hide from the chatting soldiers.
The floor may prove to be harder to work around, the reflecting marble making it to where they could find anyone hiding in the arches; say for a couple of specific positions.
Though if this plays out right, then getting through here should be little trouble; give or take how long they keep running their mouths.
While the three guards still have air to waste talking, Alisha takes her sticky paws and climbs up towards the golden ceiling; turning out towards the straightaway as she reaches the arches.
From curving arch to curving arch, the cat woman scuttles through the golden space between each of them; hiding from the site of the golden guards below.
As Alisha makes her way across the roof, one of the guards standing against the golden wall suddenly stiffens up; looking around the hall as he asks his fellow soldiers:
“(You...You two hear that?)”
The two of his pals gaze around the hall with him, one of them mentioning how:
“(I’m not hearing anything.)”
“(What you think it sounds like?)”
“(It sounds like somebody is ripping something. It’s really faint.)”
“(Are you sure it’s not just the tower’s internal systems?)”
“(Yeah, or could just be something upstairs. Some of the scientist always work pretty late.)”
In his search for where the sound came from, the guard glances up to the roof of the hall ahead; finding nothing hanging over head.
He then takes a look to the polished marble below, finding nothing but the ceilings golden sheen mirroring against the stone.
“(I think the scientist aren’t the only one’s who shouldn’t be working late.)” one of the two guards jest.
“(He he, yeah. I still got an hour until quitting time.)”
Their paranoid co worker glances back to them, telling the two of them that:
“(Uh, I need something to drink...)”
As he walks back through the hall, both of his partners join him in his retreat; one of them recommending that:
“(Oh, how about we head to the cafeteria. I hear they’re serving sweet tea at this hour.)”
“(Sounds good to me. Wonder if they still have grape juice.)”
As the three golden guards venture out through the shimmering hall, they fail to discover their catty intruder that one of them suspected to have heard; Alisha sticking right to the ceiling below where they just stood.
Once they turn the corner, the fuchsia feline drops down to the marble floor and lands right on her feet; soon heading in the direction of the surveillance room.
Right in the middle of the surveillance chamber itself, one man sits surrounded by dozens upon dozens of holographic images; each one detailing the live feed of almost every single room within the towering capital.
In his vigilant watch, the watcher hears the sound of a hatch opening; breaking from his holographic feeds to glance towards the door.
He discovers the door having seemingly opened on its own, with not a single soul awaiting on the other side; soon leaving his post to investigate.
Coming to the open doorway, he checks outside to see if maybe somebody was standing along the walls; attempting to pull their jovial idea of a prank.
The man fails to find anybody along the walls of the door; assuming that it was just a simple and proceeds back to his post.
Upon turning his back though, he soon hears the sound of sudden footsteps from behind; turning back to discover a fuchsia and black suited figure right in front of him.
Before he could properly react, the cat like intruder digs her claws straight into his neck; quickly covering his mouth to keep him from crying out in painful agony.
The watcher loosing consciousness, the last that his eyes behold his the cold gaze of his catty assassin; the man soon going completely limp.
Having dispatched of the only surveillance staff, Alisha puts the watcher down onto the floor; moving away from the corpse and towards the control panel in the center.
Inspecting the console surrounding her, the cat burglar finds a curving screen showing a myriad of sliders and buttons; the overabundance of which slightly intimidates her.
Jesus. This fancy tech shit ain’t anything like modern tech we got. Science boys back home don’t come anywhere close to this kinda stuff.
Guess Drake really wasn’t kidding when he mentioned how advance these guys were. It’s like the shit you’d from an alien world.
Probably not the brightest idea to mess with any of it, can’t really tell which blares the alarms and which just zooms in the video.
While Alisha is distracted by the buttons and hologram feeds, the man that she presumably killed struggles to stand back up; his arms and legs trembling as he pick himself off the floor.
Though he’s still has breath left to spare, such life begins to fade fast; the surveillance staff dragging himself across the floor towards the side of the console.
With what life he has left, the watcher lifts himself up the console; his arms continuing to shake as he pulls up with the little strength he has left.
Reaching beyond the panels top, the mans slides his hands across the touch screen, the nails of his fingers reaching out towards a bright red button.
Just moments before the watcher could push the button, he feels the cold steel of sharp claws dig straight into his eyes; Alisha piercing her claws through the mans head as she pulls him away from the touch screen.
The cat burglar keeps the man suspended by her claws until the last of his life fades; making sure that the surveillance staff stays dead.
As she drops the deceased watcher to the floor, Alisha takes a quick look at her phone; watching as the time finally comes for her partner to spring into action.
The clock on his phone finally striking 2:00, Drake arises from the steel of the elevator’s roof; gazing up through the dark shaft as both him and the lift descend further down.
Taking his stop, the young man jumps off the dropping elevator and climbs up one of the shaft’s steel doors; wedging his fingers into the gap between and pulling the hatch apart.
Once parting the steel doors, the Alliance leader discovers two golden guard beyond the hatch, watching as he pries himself inside.
“(An intruder?)”
“(Get him!)”
Both of the shining soldiers charge out towards their newfound intruder, one of them swinging their sword to cast forth a wave of golden light; Drake easily flipping over the oncoming wave of power.
Their intruder still airborne, the other soldier aims the tip of her spear out towards their seemingly helpless foe; firing out a barrage of light darts from her weapon.
Seeing these arrows incoming, Drake makes himself spin whilst still in the air; skillfully evading each and every single shot by the skin of his teeth.
After dodging the salvo of laser fire, Drake lands back upon the polished marble floor and lunges out towards the two golden guards; the first of the two ready to swing his blade out towards the rapidly approaching intruder.
Though the soldier slashes out the oncoming intruder, the young man ducks underneath the blades swipe; soon thrusting his arm straight towards the guards armor plated chest.
In one clean strike, the young man pierces right through the soldiers front plate; taking a priciest stab at the humble guards heart.
Watching as her partner goes limp within their foes grasp, the other golden soldier charges forth with spear in hand; aiming the tip directly at the young mans head.
“(You bastard!)” she cries.
Witnessing the foolish soldiers incoming, Drake blocks the guards thrust with the armored corpse of her ally; his foe’s spear bouncing off the dead body’s armor.
Deflecting the soldiers spear gives the Alliance leader the perfect opportunity to counterattack, swiping the guard spear out of her hands and thrusting its tip straight into her head.
With both of his glimmering foe’s dispatched, Drake discards both the spear and his human shield; the two armored soldiers crashing upon the marble floor.
Taking out his phone, the young man checks the picture of the holo map he took; glancing back towards the elevator to discovering a quaint little sign hanging above the door frame.
The lettering of the sign proves to be kind of foreign to the Alliance leader, though the language that the guards spoke earlier may suggest it may be an offshoot of Polish; despite various letters being altered in some ways.
The sign obviously indicate what floor they stand in, though the lettering makes it difficult to determine which floor it is exactly.
In questioning what the sign displays, the young man’s ears catch the course sound of scraping metal from behind, glancing back to discover the guard he punched a hole into still alive and attempting to escape.
With what life he has left to offer, the golden armored guard attempts to heave himself towards the corner of the hall; hoping to catch the attention of whoever may be on the other side.
Before he could even reach for the end of the hallway, the soldier is soon dragged back towards the direction of the elevator; glancing back to find their young intruder pulling on his leg.
The dying guard can do little to fight back against his deadly foe’s pull; barely able to muster the strength to even keep himself alive, much less fight back.
Once next to the open elevator doors, Drake lets go of the shinning soldiers leg and soon grasps at his neck; lifting the dying man up to the sign above and demanding to know in sort of broken polish:
“(What does sign say?)”
Forced to gaze upon the small sign overhead, the soldier takes a moment to breath before informing that it says:
“(1...47th...floor.)”
“(Thank you for help.)”
As an appreciation for the guards generosity, Drake decides to repay his kindness by granting him a swift and painless end; crushing the soldiers neck by the palm of his hand.
After repaying the kindly golden gentleman for his help, the Alliance leader takes another glance of the holomap; the picture detailing the kings quarters to be set upon the 156th floor of the towering capital.
It’s honestly much relatively closer than expected; thought for a moment it would have been much farther up.
A simple climb up the shaft should fix the slight error; but what to do of the bodies left behind?
No doubt discovering of their guards reduced to nothing but over glorified limp examples of why gold is a terrible choice for body armor, it would no doubt raise quite the alarm and put the overall mission in jeopardy.
They best be hidden somewhere that people would least likely suspect; somewhere that the common patron would least discover their corpses.
The young man’s attention is then directed out towards the dark shaft behind him as his ears catching the sound of the lifts ascent; an idea popping in head upon the approaching noise.
With little time to spare, the young man sprint out towards the two guards whom he had killed; quickly hauling their glittering armored asses towards the open steel doors.
Once facing the darkness of the shaft with the two guards in tow, Drake gazes down into the depth of the vertical tunnel as he awaits for the lift to arrive.
Soon enough, he witnesses the elevator swiftly ascending up from the veil of darkness; Drake jumping down to the rising lift while dragging the two dead soldiers with him.
Though the landing could be a little less rough, the young man and the lifeless guards make it onto the roof of the lift without so much as a hitch; the impact of their landing hardly knocking the elevator.
Having successfully hidden the bodies of the guards he had dispatched, a small snicker escapes between the young man’s teeth as he ascends further up the shaft.
Alongside the light of the city below, the moon shines through the window of the royal chamber; the king of Lorduna himself slumbering by his lonesome as his loud snoring echoes beyond his white bearded maw.
His peaceful sleep comes to an alarming end when hearing a set of hurrying footstep, rising from the sheets of his bed to witness one of his guards bursts inside.
“(Your majesty! We need to sound the alarm!)”
Sitting at the edge of his bed, his highness looks to the worried soldier and questions him:
“(What is it, trooper? What’s going on?)”
“(Some intruder has breached into the capital and his slaughtering everyone on his way here.
We have to warn everyone inside, before he reaches-)”
Before the guard could finish his warning, the king watches in horror as the soldier is unexpectedly choked on the spot, a pair of arms grasping hold of the guards head and snapping his neck.
The golden guard collapses onto the royal chambers velvet red carpet, revealing behind him the young intruder himself; Drakes snake like eyes locked to the lord of Lorduna as he stands at the edge of his bed.
Those same eyes soon drift off to the kings nightstand, focusing upon a particular button lying along the outer edge of the small table.
His highness soon realizes what exactly what his young interloper has his eyes set to and reaches out for the very same button; Drake sprinting out towards the crimson red button before his royal foe takes the chance to press it.
Meager moments before his majesty could hit the button, his trespasser swipes the alarm right off his nightstand; the king gazing upon Drake as he hold the alarm button in his hand.
With put the strength of his palm, the young Alliance leader crushes the alarm button to pieces; the remains of which scatter along the velvet carpet.
With his alarm button in pieces, the king resorts to fighting off the intruder himself; pulling out his personal royal blade from the gaps of his mattress and swing out to the young man.
Drake jumps away from his royal foes swing, witnessing the bulky elder king lunge out to the young man in his retreat; once more swinging his regal blade down towards his head.
Dodging to his highness’s side, the young leader slips his arms around the lords neck; advising that the monarch that he simply:
“(Surrender.)”
“(So long as I live for my people, I shall do no such thing!)”
Upon declaring such does the royal elder flex his neck; the sudden tense muscles being enough to break Drake’s snake like grip.
After freeing himself from his foe’s grasp, his highness swiftly turns back as he swings his royal weapon out to the interloper behind him.
With the remains of the alarm button guarding his palms, Drake stops his kingly adversary’s swing with but only a single hand.
Clasping upon the lords prized weapon, the young fighter kicks his highness in the kidney; the pain causing him to loose grip of his blade as he stumbles back.
His hand upon the side of his stomach, the king gazes back towards the lethal intruder; only able to watch as the young man breaks his steel blade in half like simple wood.
With his only weapon having been broken, his highness is only left with the brawn of his body to depend on; the king taking a fighting stance against the young intruder.
Witnessing his royal foe take on such a stance in front of him, Drake can’t help but crack a small smile; soon taking a unique style of martial arts of his own.
The first out of the two to approach, the king charges for the interloper; swinging his burly arms towards the young man.
Countering the direct assault, Drake slips right past his heavyweight punch and slides to the kings side, chopping right at the kings belly.
Despite taking another direct blow to his stomach, this fails to deter his highness from fighting back; attempting to kick out towards the young man right behind him.
Drake slides cleanly under the kings leg, getting right behind his highness and delivering a precise blow to his royal foe’s backside.
Attempting to counter, the old lord once more swings out to the young man behind him, the Alliance leader jumping back from his foe’s massive arms.
Though the king tries to pursue after his snake like intruder, the blows inflicted upon him begin to take their toll; his majesty kneeling from the sudden pain.
With his regal opponent down for the count, the young fighter looks down upon the old lord with an amused smile; lunging forth to deal the final blow.
Drake approaches the downed king as he balls his fist, aiming directly for his eyes.
Before he could deal the knockout punch however, a brief memory flashes before his eyes; witnessing the image of a young Xain’s fearful gaze.
This memory haunting his site, the young Alliance leader stops right in front of the king; the haunting reminder making him completely stiff.
With his young interloper struck frozen stiff, his highness shakes off his pain and quickly rises from the velvet carpeting; swinging his massive gorilla arms towards the paralyzed young man.
The lords powerful strike sends the young man flying straight into the bedroom wall; the impact of which creates cracks all along the gold.
Falling to the red carpet below, Drake shakes off the hearty blow that the king had inflicted; attempting to regain his breathing.
Damn! The old fool hits as hard as a runaway semi truck. A surprising fact considering his old appearance. No doubt the result of biological enhancement work by the scientist here. It would explain how unreasonably jack the man is for his age.
Still, there may be little time left to render him unconscious before more guards dare to intrude; and it may take more work to knock his highness out then initially thought.
Perhaps something to tip the scales may be in order, but what could effectively do so?
Its in pondering this does a peculiarly loud cry penetrate his ears; glancing to his side to discover a lone golden carriage.
In glancing towards the king, Drake immediately notices his dreading glare; the lords eyes rapidly shifting from him and the carriage.
Before the old king could run for the golden carriage, his young intruder sprints out to the cradle in but a moment; his highness left frozen in fear.
Staring down upon the crying infant, the young man can’t help but crack a warm smile; singing a gentle lullaby to the child.
“Hush little princess, don’t you cry,
Your strength shall rival the very sky.
One day, you’ll hold a kingdom of gold,
All of of whom shall truly behold.
Your soldiers shall be at your side,
Ready to fight, so dare not hide.
Soon, the world shall see your might,
Your existence shall be their plight.”
The young man’s calming lullaby starts lulling the young heir back to sleep, the baby’s crying slowly quieting down; eventually silencing in peaceful slumber.
Having soothed the kings little girl back to sleep, Drake directs his attention back to the lord himself with a sinister glare.
With his little girl at the mercy of his lethal interloper, the king calms himself and questions:
“(What are your demand?)
From his question, the young man tosses a little glowing green pill to his highness’s feet, ordering for the old lord to:
“(Take pill. Or I kill girl.)
After picking up the small pill from his regal carpet, his majesty glances to the young man and says:
“(You’re bluffing. You wouldn’t go so low as to threaten a mere infant.)”
Hearing his statement, Drake slips out a small knife from the depths of his sleeve; aiming the tip of the sharp blade down to the little girl head and wonders:
“(Care to bet?)”
Glancing back to the glowing pill in his hand, the kings other fist trembles in unholy fury; question how:
“(How...how can such a young man be twisted and warped to do such horrid evil?)”
Gazing back to his highness with snake like eyes, Drake answers his burning question by declaring that:
“(I was born to be evil.)”
Having answered his highness’s curiosity, the Alliance leader is swift to remind him what’s at stake; inching the knife closer to his little girl as he demands for him to:
“(Now take pill.)”
Glancing to the glowing pill resting in his hand, a heavy breath escapes from the kings lungs; soon taking the bright medication into his mouth.
Looking back towards his intruder, he finds the young man refusing to withdraw his blade from the young heir; hearing him order the lord to:
“(Swallow.)”
With the life of his child still on the line, his majesty complies with the will of the young interloper and swallows the pill down his throat; Drake withdrawing his blade back into his sleeve with a small chuckles.
Before the lord of Lorduna could begin to approach the young man, his highness soon feels an overwhelming numbness consume him; the enveloping feeling forcing the massive lord to his knee’s.
Witnessing his royal foe trembling upon the velvet red carpet, Drake strolls away from the baby’s golden crib; glaring down at his majesty with a sinister smile.
Soon enough, the muscular lord beneath his feet ceases to tremble on the floor, the Alliance leader commanding the king to:
“(Rise.)”
As commanded, the emperor arises from his red carpeting, his one life filled eyes now housing nothing but a void stare down upon his new ruler and questions:
“(What is it you command, my liege?)”
Ho oh. Love the sound of that.
“(Get dressed and meet at core in 15 minutes. Drive anyone suspicious away.)” Drake commands as he walks towards the deceased guard in front of the door.
While the king marches out towards his closet, his new lord grabs hold of the shinning soldiers dead body; heaving the armored guard out of the bedroom.
Just as the young intruder carries his recent victims corpse around the corner, two more guards come around the opposite side; rushing out towards their lords chambers.
Sprinting inside their kings chamber, they discover the lord himself dawning a royal set of armor; one of them questioning if:
“(My liege! We heard a commotion from the halls. Are you and your heir okay?)”
The king himself turns himself toward his soldiers, wearing a composed smile behind his void like gaze and assuring the guards that:
“(Fear not, my subjects. It was just a simple nightmare. Everything is just fine.)”
Descending down the depths of the capitals stairwell, Drake hurries down towards the bottom of the towering keep; all the while keeping cautious for whoever may be inside with him.
Taking a quick glance at his phone, the young fighter finds the clock to show about 2:15; only fifteen minutes left to meet his new royal puppet down at the core.
With the time in mind, the Alliance leader hurries down the stairwell; soon finding the shadow of a figure standing in his way.
Jumping around the corner, Drake readies to swiftly dispose of the unwanted witness; taking his fighting stance as he lands down the steps.
He just as quickly breaks from his pose when discovering who the shadow belongs to; a smile forming between his cheeks as he quietly exclaims:
“Alisha! I’m glad to see you again.”
Drakes catty partner lets a little giggle escape from between her lips, replying on how:
“Nice to see you two Drake.”
“Naturally, though if I may admit; something has been bothering me as of late. Something dwelling in the back of my mind.”
“Can it wait until we finish our mission? We still have to follow our little puppet down to the core as planned.”
“I supposed, Though we’re both a long ways above the bottom of this building, and I fear that climbing down this stairwell won’t be enough to get us down in time.”
“Y’all don’t gotta worry about that. We got us another way that can get us down their before our royal dummy does.”
“You have something in mind?”
Along the outside of the towers glimmering golden walls, both Drake and Alisha slide down its slick golden surface; Alisha utilizing her claws as Drake does his small knife.
While the cat burglar shows little trouble in her descent, her leader on the other hand proves to be a bit rough in his slide down; constantly shaking as he holds tightly onto his knife.
It isn’t before long that they begin to discover the details of the streets below, glaring down upon the glistening
walkways that the people traverse through; capsule like transport pods weaving through twisting glass tunnels suspended in the air.
Gazing further down along the building, the fuchsia feline discover a window up ahead; free from any light shining out from inside.
Letting go of the golden wall, the cat burglar quickly starts dropping down towards their point of reentry, Drake only able to watch as his feline friend descends further towards the ground.
Alisha quickly digs her claws back into the towers side, slowing down her descend as she nears the lightless window.
Once in front of their point of entry, the fuchsia thief rapidly circles her claws around the glass, quickly cutting a hole through the window.
With Drake starting to descend towards his catty partner, the young man witnesses the cat burglar holding her arm out for him, the young man reaching for the cat like thief as he drops down.
Right when Alisha catches her leader from his rapid descend, she rushes back inside with the young man in tow; both tumbling within the confines of a small darkened room.
After rising from the marble floor, Alisha heads towards the glass door before them; slowly nudging the sliding door open to peek out into the golden hall on the other side.
Discovering the coast to be clear, she turns back towards her young leader while taking a glance at the holomap of the tower; a small light descending down towards their position.
“Right, so it won’t be long before our royal puppet reaches the bottom floor. I suggest we get into position for the moment he opens the way to the core.”
Finally taking a glance at Drake himself, Alisha finds him staring out the window they came in, uttering not a single word as he gazes out to Lorudna’s bright skyline.
“Drake...is something wrong?” she wonders.
“How can I even face him again?”
“Ex...cuse me?”
“How can I even stomach working with him after what I did?”
“Oh...you mean Xain...Listen, its been more than ten years. He’s doing way better these days. He’s probably forgotten all about that day.”
“But can I?”
Just as Alisha readies to approach her troubled commander, her site is soon drawn back to the holomap; finding the king nearing the bottom floor.
“The kings on his way. We need to move or we’ll miss our chance.”
To his partners warning, the Alliance leader lets out a deep breath; simply responding with:
“Right. Let’s move.”
Turning back towards the glass door, Alisha glances to her approaching partner and attempts to shortly comfort him with:
“Drake...what happened back then...It wasn’t your fault… All of us were just kids.”
“I know.”
The young man approaches the light shining through the glass door, revealing his regretful gaze as he finishes with:
“Thank you Alisha.”
Set at the bottom floor of the capital, dozens of men and women mingle and talk within the elegant glimmering hall of the entrance lobby; staying up late through their night shift as constant yawns fill the air.
Though their late evening would suddenly come with a sudden surprise, their eyes greeted by their very lord strolling on through; two golden guards marching by his side.
Those who stood in their way scurried to the side, worry and wonder drawing across their faces as they watch their liege venture through the massive lobby.
They soon witness their lord leaving the public eye just as quickly as he had entered, walking through a lone door standing along the other side of the lobby; their shock transforming into confusion and suspicion.
The door that the king walks through proves to hold very little beyond its golden steel; simply housing the unassuming appearance of an employee break room.
Though the room holds nothing but Lorunda’s versions of appliances and furnishings of great technology, one decoration baits the kings attention: A metallic silver piece of décor with dozens of polygonal corners littering its sides.
Faced with the odd decoration, his highness thrusts his fingers into the several holes spread across the metal; slowly beginning to turn the piece of art with his hands.
As he slowly turns the artwork, its metals begins to change before their eyes; its corners coming together to form an octagon.
Turning the piece further has it shift into a hexagon, then a square, triangle, all before eventually taking its final form; a perfect silver circle.
This circle soon begins to enlarge into a giant door, one leads down into a set of steps descending down into darkness.
The lord of Lorduna begins his ascent alongside his two golden guards, the doorway to the break room sealing behind them; but not before two shadows slip their way inside.
As the trio descend down the dark spiral steps, a faint glow could soon be seen along the bottom of the stairwell; the light reflecting off their armor growing more intense the further they descend.
Eventually, the king and his guards come to the source of the brilliant luminescence; a massive orb of powerful light encased in a glass dome.
“(Nn...Pardon me, my liege; but why did you wish to see the core so feverishly at this hour?)” one of the guards questions.
“(It was of their request.)” his lord simply states, a pair of arms arising from behind the guard that asked.
Before the curious soldier could question his king any further, the arms from his backside wrap themselves around his neck; soon swiftly twisting the golden guards head until it snaps.
Hearing the snapping echo throughout the cores chamber, the other armored guard turns back towards her partner to witness him collapse onto the black gray floor; discovering the menacing young intruder standing behind her deceased comrade.
While the golden soldier attempts to rush out towards their newly discovered trespasser, a small kunai flies out from the side; its steel tip digging straight into the back of the guards knee.
The blade in her leg forces the soldier to kneel down on the floor; stopping the golden guard right in her approaching charge.
Glancing out in the direction of where the knife had flown in, the shimmering soldiers notices a figure dashing straight behind the console surrounding the core; unable to perceive any noteworthy features before her other foe dashes behind cover.
Turning back towards the first of the two interlopers, the glimmering guard discovers the young man to be right in front of her; Drake kicking the grounded guard straight in the breastplate.
The unexpected blow proves strong enough to send the armored soldier straight into the side of the core’s chamber; the bits and shards of her golden armor scattering before her as she’s sent careening.
After slamming straight into the chamber wall, the shining soldier falls to the darkened floor; pulling out the small knife from the back of her leg once landing.
Taking a glimpse towards her majesty, the guard is worried why the lord of Lorduna simply remains motionless as a statue while their be lethal intruders nearby.
“(My liege! Why do you simply stand idle in the presence of danger!? Please, help us!)”
Despite her pleading requests, the king remains ever motionless where he stands; his highness’s blank stare showing only mindless eyes.
Even with her lord simply standing idle, the shimmering soldier nevertheless continues to fight; charging towards her young foe with her mace tightly in hand.
Witnessing his approaching foe swing out towards his side, Drake ducks underneath the soldiers side way swing; delivering a three punch combo to her stomach.
Taking in the triad of blows, the golden guard hammers heaves her mace down towards where the young fighter stood; Drake sidestepping out of the weapons descent and aiming for the soldiers right.
At his armored adversary’s side, the snake like interloper attempts to deliver a swift chop to the soldiers side; his assault coming to a halt when caught by the shining soldiers shield.
Having blocked her foe’s strike, the glimmering guard pushes their lethal trespasser back; Drake sent stumbling away from the soldier.
Just as the young man begin to fall to the floor, he sticks his hands up overhead and catches himself before he could stumble; Drake leaping into the air via his own two hands.
Once back flipping back on his feet, the young intruder looks back towards his glimmering foe; startled to find her right in front of him and on the verge of swinging her mace.
Before the guard could hammer her weapon down upon the young man, a shadowy figure pounces out from the core’s console; lunging out towards the soldiers untouched leg.
As she passes underneath, the cat like shadow slashes her claws on the back of the guards other leg; the sudden swipe causing the shining soldier to fall to her knee’s.
His foe’s assault stopped in her track, the Alliance leader sends out a powerful kick right into the downed guards side; the blow proving strong enough to send the guard careening across the chamber.
In the soldiers landing slide, she directly bumps straight next to her majesty’s feet; his highness looking down upon his guard with a blank stare.
Though bloodied and bruised, the soldiers nonetheless rises back on her feet; raising her shield for the defense of her lord while urging him to:
“(My liege, these two are far more dangerous then I thought. I fear I may not last much longer.
I will hold them off from the city’s core while you seek aid from above.”)
As his loyal servant offers his assistance, the king himself takes tight grip of a blade in his hand; guiding the tip of his sword back as the guard prepares to lunge back towards the martial artist.
Right when the shinning soldier readies to charge forth, she soon feels cold steel pierce through her backside and out the front of her chest; glancing back to discover her own highness having thrust her dead comrades sword straight into her back.
“(My-my liege…why?)”
Her final words questioning her lords betrayal, the last of the golden guards breath leaves her lunges; her king kicking her body off of his blade.
The last of the kings escort having been dealt with, Drake drift his gaze straight towards the huge purple ball of light behind him; Alisha crawling out of hiding to join his side.
“Now that we have that rather messy business out of the way, do you still have our little bug?” Drake questions his catty partner.
“Course I do. Where else would it be.”
Pulling out the small blue capsule from the back of her cat suit, the fuchsia feline pops open the pill to grab hold of the glowing insect inside; the bright bug’s legs scuttling in the air while trapped between her claws.
Once Alisha approaches the console surrounding the bright core, she takes a glance at the touch screens and holograms displaying numerous letters and switches; this time asking the questions with:
“So uh...where do you think I plug the little bastard in?”
“The “Little bastard” was bread and built to navigate the complex works of any advance machinery and computer system.
Simply set it down and let it work its magic.”
Doing as her leader had suggested, the cat burglar sets the glowing insect down upon the console; watching as the little bright bug crawls along the touch screen and towards the back of the machinery.
Once squeezing itself inside the core’s control, the touch screens and holographs begin to glitch out and change in color; its light violet screens gradually taking on a sinister lime green hue.
Its soon that this parasitic color begins to worm its way inside the core itself; lime green strands piercing themselves within its lite purple glow and growing.
Witnessing their little bug work its magic, Drake grabs his feline like partners attention with:
“Fantastic. I suggest we take our leave while no one is the wiser.”
As both begin to head towards the spiral step, the Alliance leader calls for his royal puppet and orders him to:
“(My King, time to head back. Return to quarters at once.)”
On their way to the stairs, the two of them discover the lord of Lorduna himself standing right in their way; despite the directions given to him.
“(Your majesty?)”
From where they stand, the duo hear the kings breath grow panicked and raspy as he stares further down; Drake reinforcing his orders with:
“(My lord. Go back to bedroom. Now!)”
Fighting against these orders, the king raises his arms with the blade of his guard in hand; soon hammering the sword down upon the floor to send out an intense golden shock wave to his masters.
Both Drake and Alisha evade their thought to be puppets unexpected golden wave, Drake glancing back to witness his highness quickly climbing up the steps.
“Alisha! Stop him!”
Following her leaders urgent command, the cat burglar races out towards their escaping royal puppet; swiftly chasing the king up the spiraling stairwell.
In her hot pursuit for the fleeing lord, Alisha leaps out to the other side of the stairway; gliding right over the core’s purple and green light.
Having jumped across the light of the core, the fuchsia feline cleanly lands right on the other side of the spinning steps; finding the king failing to stop despite cutting off his escape.
In his attempt to knock the cat like interloper aside, his majesty swing his blade towards his feline foe; Alisha leaping out of the kings swords swing and swiping her claws at the lord.
With his cat like foe’s claws doing little to scratch his armor, the king takes another swing at his cat like intruder; this time hammering his blade down to where he thinks his foe would be.
Realizing the direction of his swipe, Alisha manages to evade the blades cold steel by the skin of her teeth; strands of her blonde hair fluttering down the stairwell.
In the midst of dodging the lords blade, the cat burglar soon feels something grasp at her ankle; glimpsing to her feet to find her royal foe’s meaty palm grabbing her leg.
Before she could begin to slip out from his grasp, his highness tosses the feline like trespasser off of the stairwell.
While the lord of Lorduna continues to rush up the spiraling stairwell, he watches the woman she tossed off careen towards the steps below; witnessing the cat burglar land cleanly on her feet.
Before he could climb up any further, his majesty’s escape is once again cut off when somebody sweeps at his legs; the king falling upon the cold stone steps as he hears Drake compliment that:
“(You have strong will. You are truly king.)”
Hearing this, his majesty begins to arise from the stone steps, finding the Alliance leader himself standing before him; the young man’s snake like eyes locked onto his as the king hears him warn that:
“(But your will not last long. The pill you took strong medicine. Designed to destroy mind.
Even if you beat us, the pill will make you nothing but soulless puppet.)”
Taking his foe’s ominous warning in full, the lord stands proudly with his blade in hand; directing his weapons edge to his neck and proclaiming that:
“(If this be the case, then my people and my kingdom shall have to live on without me.)”
Before his attempt at a noble sacrifice could be fulfilled, the kings suicide is thwarted when Drake grabs hold of the swords hilt; stopping the sharp edge from inching any closer:
“(Now now, do not be rash.)”
Upon suggesting such, the martial artist knocks the lords blade from out of his grasp; throwing the weapon down towards the bottom of the chamber.
Before the Alliance leader could withdraw from his majesty, the king himself grasps the young intruders arm and tosses him back; Drake landing on his feet as he witnesses the lord drive his fist into the stone steps.
As part of the stairwell begins to crumble to rubble, the young martial artist backs away as he witnesses his royal foe flee up the stairs.
Before he could let him get any further, Drake leaps straight up from where he stands; rocketing up to the steps overhead.
Just as it seems that his highness was going to make a clean getaway, Drake arises from the side of the steps to stand in his way once again; suggesting to the lord that:
“(Please, stay longer.)”
Realizing his slim chance of escaping up the stairwell before the pills mental effect do away with his mind for good, the king can only think of one thing left that can be done from being pushed into this desperate corner.
In one final try to end his life, the lord of Lorduna leaps off the edge of the stairwell; Drake watching in shock as his royal puppet descends down towards the core below.
Before he could be consumed by the core’s brilliant light, a passing black and pink streak tackles him back towards the stone steps; his highness sent slamming against the wall by the feline like thief.
While she has the royal fool stunned on the spot, Alisha pulls out a length of titanium rope from the back of her cat suit; enveloping his majesty in its steel like binds.
No matter how much he attempts to flex these shackles with his muscles, the lord struggles to break free from the trappings of his newly formed prison.
Seeing the royal leader take in a deep breath, the fuchsia feline quickly pulls out a roll of scotch tape; the king screaming for help as she pulls a piece off.
“(Help! Somebody! I-)”
Before his majesty could yell out for assistance, the catty thief slaps the tape on his screaming maw; reducing his crying plea’s to meager muffles.
Dropping down from the steps below, Drake lands right beside his catty partner in crime, complementing the fuchsia feline with:
“A fantastic job, Alisha. Surely an effort that has saved the entire mission.
I must admit, I didn’t think he’d so eager to end his own life not once, but twice in the same minute.”
“Must be in a noble kings nature to put his kingdom before himself.
Course, what do ya expect from the leader of an advance nation like this.”
“Yes well, such admirable nobility shall dissolve into mindless obedience soon. The little bit of medication I’ve given him should be breaking the last of his will any moment now.”
Lying on the steps before them, cries of agony fail to escape from his highness’s taped mouth as his struggling transforms into compulsive trembling; tears flowing down his cheeks as he spasms out.
Soon enough however, the last of the lords fruitless resistance slowly begins to fade; the determination dwelling in his eyes dissolving into blank lifelessness.
After witnessing the last of their captives struggles coming to an end, Drake reaches for his majesty’s mouth and pulls the tape off; asking their tied up king if:
“(Now, you ready to obey.)”
Calmly arising before the two, the lord of Lorduna gazes his lifeless eyes down upon the duo and declares that:
“(I am yours to command, my masters.)”
With their royal puppet now fully obedient to them, both Drake and Alisha smile to one another; knowing full well that their mission through the towering capital is finally complete.
With their untied royal fool marching in front of them, both Drake and Alisha make their way back up to the top of the spiraling staircase; Drake informing that:
“Now all that’s left is to climb our way back to the top so that Shen Mi may teleport us back to base.”
“Yep...Hey um, mind if I ask, uh...How are you taking the news about “You know who”?”
“You mean Xain? I’m...glad to hear that he’s doing alright. I’m relieved that the injuries to his eyes haven’t crippled him as severely as I initially thought.”
With a small smile forming along her lips, Alisha leans close to her leader and further asks if:
“Soooo, you thinkin about having him back on the team?”
“If he were to return, he would have to be place under a rank below ours. All of the slots for the Alpha team are unfortunately full, and I don’t see my father making room for any more any time soon.”
“Hey! If the C.O.R.T.E.X. gives him an A rank, We’ll have enough to form another team with all the other one’s we recruited. Hopefully, it’ll be way better then all those D rank girls we wound up fostering in.
All we’d really need then is a name. You got anything in mind, Drake?”
“Mm...I do. But I fear that it may be too cheesy to seriously use.”
“Oh, now you gotta tell me. Come on, say it.”
“Nnn...I don’t know.”
“Aw hell nah! You ain’t openin that can of beans just to put’em away. Spill em!”
“Ah, fine. I was thinking of something along the lines of the “Brilliant Battalion”...So, how’s it sound?”
Hearing her partners name suggestion ultimately draws a smile from Alisha’s lips; covering her mouth as she attempts not to laugh her catty ass off.
Finding his feline like partner snickering upon the suggestion draws a small frown between Drake’s cheeks; looking away from Alisha as he admits how:
“Tsk. I knew it was too stupid of a name to use.”
Alisha breaks away from her snickering, looking back towards the young man as she mentions how:
“No no no, it’s great. I like it. It honestly fits too well. It’s perfect.”
With his catty partner in crime’s approval, Drake’s frown transforms into a beaming smile; telling her:
“Thanks Alisha.”
Saying such do all three of them head up the stairwell, the core below them soon becoming fully consumed by the Alliances lime green glow.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had a little bit of fun writing for both Alisha and Drake this Chapter. Being creative with how he would be conditioned to act and work under his fathers training, that and it clashing with his remorseful and soft side was honestly one that got me the kind of writing I really like in characters; with Alisha helping him through his times of mental duress.
I know in the canon verse that both Drake and Xain patched things up rather quickly, but I was wanting to explore the kind of mental scarring their forced actions had inflicted upon him and how he struggles to cope with what he did to a former good friend way back when; not to mention the kind of drama it could cook up later along the line.
Xain belongs to: @princesscallyie
1 note
·
View note
Text
Book Two: Famine (Prompto x Reader) Chapter Thirteen
(Y/n) felt her body plummeting as she was dragged down the hole after being released by Prompto and Gladio. She felt the rush of the wind whip through her golden locks and kiss her skin as the Gashadokuro held her leg between its fingers. Without resisting, she allowed the monster to drag her body all the way down to the hangar area of Zegnautus Keep.
Famine glared at the enormous monster as she finally came face to face with it, dangling upside down in front of its skeletal face.
"Still ugly, I see," she scoffs, rolling her eyes.
When the monster recognized who it grabbed, it tossed her across the hangar with all the strength it could muster. The Horseman's body slammed against the metal wall, creating an indentation of her body. "What?" She laughs through the pain. "You don't miss me? My feelings are hurt along with my entire back. You've got a nice arm on ya, big guy."
The Gashadokuro hissed as it crawled over to her at amazing speeds. It tried to grab her again, but she dodged and put some distance between her and it. Summoning her blade, she turned her attention back to the immense creature. "Let's dance, buddy! I'm sending you to the grave for sure this time. That's where skeletons belong, anyway."
(Y/n) charged at the Gashadokuro and dodged when it swung its boney hand at her as of it were swatting a fly. She leapt on to its knee, charging her sword with lightning. The creature used its other arm to smack its kneecap to squish the Horseman, but it was too slow. She had jumped from its knee to its shoulder in the timeframe it took for the monster to raise its hand.
Running across its shoulder, she targets the spine and uses it as a ladder to reach its head. She ducked and dodged each time the Gashadokuro tried to pluck or swat at her with its large, skeletal hands. It howled as she climbed the side of its head and finally reached the top. Raising her blade, (Y/n) drove it through its skull and twisted it as deep as it could go. The lightning discharged and surged through every part of the creature's body.
The Gashadokuro roared loudly, the entire hangar shaking from the monstrous cry. (Y/n) withdrew her blade from the monster's skull. She knew the one shock wouldn't be enough to kill it, but it was enough to slow it down and weaken it.
Famine jumped off its head, landing with a click of her heels against the concrete floor a few feet from the enemy. She sighed, watching as it tipped over and fell onto its back with a thunderous 'thud'. "Yeah. You rest for a moment. I know you'll be back on your feet in a few minutes. That'll give me enough time to come up with a plan."
(Y/n) threw her aching body against a metal crate with a huff. She closed her eyes, trying to devise a plan to kill the monster laying before her. Unlike her sisters, she wasn't able to gain knowledge on how to kill it before having been transported to Eos at King Aeshema's command. "Why couldn't there have been two Phantom Knights? Why did it have to be one of the most dangerous monsters from the Inner Sanctum...?" She reclined her head back against crate with another heavy sigh. "I swear, those three gave me the most difficult thing to kill out of all the monsters!"
The Gashadokuro growled lowly as it gradually pushed its body off the ground. As it sat up, its lower jaw unhinged and released a deafening roar. (Y/n) glared daggers at it before pushing her own body off the crate. "Ready for round two, huh? Bring it on!"
<-----------<<<<<<<<<<<
Once the boys had departed from the dormitory in search of the Crystal and (Y/n), they encountered the Foras daemon and made quick work of the enemy before moving on, ignoring its words as it breathed its final breath.
Moving forward through the Keep, the royal retinue eventually made it to the hangar. "One helluva hangar," Gladio said as they entered the large room, not yet spotting the fight between the Horseman and monster.
"Look at all this space," Prompto said before his eyes fell upon the Gashadokuro. He gasped as he saw (Y/n)'s body fly past them and rip through three metal containers before slamming into the wall. He shouted her name at the top of his lungs and ran to her as her body fell to the floor. He slid to his knees beside her and supported her body when she tried to stand. He hooked one arm around her waist while the other grabbed her sword.
"I... am not..." She started while huffing, freeing herself from Prompto and snatching her sword out of his hand. "A fly!" Without skipping a beat, she charged at the Gashadokuro with a scream of frustration. She slashed at its hand, slicing off three of its skeletal fingers before moving to sever its other hand clean off.
"Gladio!" (Y/n) shouted, performing a few backflips to avoid the Gashadokuro's reach. She skidded to a stop in a kneeling position and moved to stand at her full stature. The shield raised a brow and eyes her, his eyes showing a hint of interest and amazement at her performance. "How high do you think you can throw me?"
"How high you wanting to go?" He questioned.
"Nape of the neck," she responded hastily.
Gladio nodded and cupped his hands together snappily as he saw the monster closing in on them. "Make it quick!"
(Y/n) ran towards the brute and he launched her high in the air. She soared upwards, blade at the ready. At the nape of the monster's neck, she plunged her sword into its body and allowed her weight to drag the blade down the back of its body. She felt a plummeting sensation in her gut as she stared at the large, deep gash she created with her blade. Her sword slipped from its back and she admired her handiwork with a smirk, listening to the Gashadokuro wail in pain before falling over face-first onto the floor.
Famine waited to feel her back smack against the floor, bracing for the pain she would be in. What she didn't expect was to land on something rather soft and slightly hard. Pushing herself off what she landed on, she realized it wasn't a something but rather a someone. "Prompto?!"
"Ugh..." He groaned from the impact. "H-Hey, (Y/n)."
"Did you really try to catch me?" She raised a brow in question.
"I-It didn't go as I planned..." He grunted.
"Yeah, well, you still cushioned my fall. You get points for that," she snickered, helping him to his feet and avoiding irritating his most likely bruised back.
"Here," Noctis said, tossing the blonde a curative. "Can't believe you actually tried that."
"Hey, what can I say?" Prompto grinned as the potion shattered in his hand. "I'll always be there to catch my goddess."
"Your spine will snap like a twig one of these days if you keep becoming my cushion every time I fall," (Y/n) retorts.
When the Gashadokuro began recovering, Famine's head snapped towards it. She conjured her blade, ready to strike, but she noticed something was off. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the monster. "What is it-no!" She stormed over to it as it vanished. She dispelled her blade and ran her hands through her golden locks. "No, no, no, no! This vanishing act is getting very annoying!"
"Uh, (Y/n)?" Prompto called out to his girlfriend.
"What?!" She spun around, (e/c) eyes burning with anger. He flinched at her fiery tone, which didn't go unnoticed by her. The girl took a deep breath, sighed, and apologized. "Sorry. Didn't mean to snap at you."
"I-It's fine," the blonde responded. "Never seen you so angry before."
"I finally managed to locate my last target and it runs away before I can finish it-just like the Phantom Knight. I really suck at my job as a Horseman." (Y/n) fell to her knees before leaning back and falling onto the floor, staring up at the ceiling.
"If it's any consolation, you were pretty badass," Noctis stated.
"Not your fault they run. It just means they're scared of you," Gladio added. "Which means you are doing your job right."
"Yeah!" Prompto cheered. "If I was a Horseman, I'd turn tail and run. That thing was huge and terrifying!"
"Pray tell, (Y/n), what is this "Gashadokuro"?" Ignis asked.
While still on her back, she explained the origins of the creature. "The Gashadokuro is a manifestation of the amassed bones of people who died from starvation. They're known for their skeletal appearance and immense height. There are ten in all of existence, every single one housed within the Inner Sanctum. Only one escaped when the seal broke. Thank the Six it's only one."
"Anything else interesting about 'em?" Noctis asked curiously.
"Wanna know their diet?" She sat up with a smirk, knowing it would make all four of them queasy.
"Uh, sure."
She pushed herself off the cold floor, her smirk widening. "Y'know, the usual things monsters like to eat-heads and blood. Hate the rest of the body, though. They'll just toss that aside."
Her words created a deafening silence. She glanced between all the boys with a seemingly innocent smile. "What? Too much information?"
"Um, just a little," Prompto gulped fearfully.
Famine clamped her hands together, deciding to change the subject for the sake of the boys and their slightly paling faces. "We should locate the Crystal. The mana spilling from it is quite overwhelming."
"It's close by?" Noctis asked, eyes gleaming with hope.
"I'm not sure, but its mana signature is quite strong in this hangar. It must be somewhere nearby. The central elevator is that way," (Y/n) pointed to the back of the hangar. "It's our only way up."
Their conversation was interrupted by the eerie sound of squealing metal. The large doors at the other end of the hangar begin opening, alerting the five. Over the loudspeakers, they hear Ardyn's taunting tone. "Your Majesty, your precious Crystal awaits you. To liven things up I thought I'd take you on a stroll down memory lane. Of course, memories decay with time."
Ravus' body walks through the doors, now grotesque and daemonic, transformed into a monster. "Kill me... End it..." He begged in a haunting, warped tone.
Gladio's eyes narrowed slightly as the man stalked towards them. "Is that Ravus?"
"Or what's left of him..." Prompto muttered.
"Friend of yours?" (Y/n) pondered.
"More of an acquaintance," Noctis replied. "And Luna's brother."
Famine sighed dejectedly. "A shame to see he has become a victim of the kingdom he once served." She glanced down at her hands before locking eyes with the infected man. "I'll make this quick. Think you four can create an opening for me?"
"Certainly," Ignis responds, summoning his daggers.
"We'll distract him and you do whatever you need to," Gladio reassured.
"I don't want to have to use it again so soon, but I must," she murmured to herself.
(Y/n) watched and waited as the boys fought against Ravus. Noctis warped into battle while Prompto stood in the back, firing round after round at the daemonized man. Gladio and Ignis joined the fray, grabbing Ravus' full attention.
While his sight was focused on the four boys, the Horseman snuck up behind him and reached out to touch him. When her hands were a few inches from his head, he turned and drove his blade through her abdomen. She gasped in pain and heard the boys shout her name. "Damn... That one hurt..." A grunt escaped her lips as she took another step forward, the blade sinking further into her body.
Reaching out, (Y/n) placed her hands on the sides of Ravus' face and gritted her teeth as she fought through the immense pain in her abdomen. The second her hands touched the man's face, she could feel the daemon inside him trying to invade her own body. "Sorry, pal. That's not gonna happen."
"Kill... me..." Ravus begged through labored, pained breaths in a dark undertone.
"I'll try to make it quick," she whispered and used the Touch of Starvation.
Ravus screamed out in pain as the daemon inside him tried to break free from (Y/n) and escape, but it was too late. His bones show through his flesh as his body slowly discorporated, turning his body into nothing but bones until they disintegrated into ash. The screaming ceased and Famine's hands shake as they remained in the air. The exhaustion hit her like a bullet train, but she desperately tried to fight through it.
The girl glanced down at the sword that was still embedded in her abdomen and called out to the boys. "Can I... get some help here?"
Noctis was the closest to her and jogged over. He grabbed the hilt of the blade. Before doing anything due to the fright of the amount of blood, he met her (e/c) gaze. "You ready?" He asked nervously.
(Y/n) nodded, her eyes drooping due to the exhaustion. "Just... make it quick." Noctis nodded and used all his strength to briskly remove the sword from her body.
Once it was out, Famine sighed in relief before she felt her vision fading. She stumbled backwards in a desperate attempt to stave off the exhaustion as her body healed. Noctis tossed the blade down before grabbing her arm to keep her from falling. "H-Hey!"
Prompto rushed over as he saw her eyes shut and her knees collapse underneath her. He wrapped his arms around her body and Noctis released his hold on her, seeing the blonde had a firm grip on her. He sunk to his knees with (Y/n) collapsed against him-one hand cradling the back of her head while the other rested on her waist. "Iggy!" He shouted in worry.
The tactician followed the sound of Prompto's distressed tone and made his way over hastily. He found where they were and asked the blonde what was the problem. He quickly explained to him how (Y/n) suddenly lost consciousness after her wounds healed, concerned something had went wrong during the healing process. Her skin was slightly clammy to the touch and pale.
"She's immortal, right?" Noctis asked.
"Y-Yeah, but still..." Prompto muttered. "Is she okay, Iggy?"
"By her symptoms, I believe it's simply exhaustion," the advisor responds.
As the boys were discussing (Y/n)'s condition, the hangar suddenly fills with daemons. The amass of enemies varied in size as they flooded the entirety of the hangar.
"Look alive-company!" Gladio shouted, conjuring his greatsword and killing an approaching daemon.
Prompto shook (Y/n) lightly, hoping to stir her from her unconscious state. "(Y/n), we could really use your help right now!"
The Horseman didn't stir.
"That's not gonna work," a voice hissed. Prompto looked up and saw a girl with crimson hair and lapis eyes staring down at him. "It's useless to try and wake her at this point. The power she used to kill that man takes a lot out of her. She won't be awake for a couple of hours. You better protect her or I'm gonna skin your ass."
"Not the time, War!" Gladio snarled at the girl. "Could use your help!"
The redhead rolled her eyes with a groan. "Fine. Just don't get in my way. I'm doing this for my sister, not for the rest of you." War called upon one of her many weapons and took down daemons left and right.
Prompto, a little shaken at the Horseman's threat, summoned his pistol and shot any daemons that tried to pounce on him and (Y/n).
<--------<<<<<<<<
The fighting droned on endlessly. Noctis, Prompto, Gladio, Ignis, and War slew many daemons, but more kept replacing them.
"We're getting nowhere!" Gladio bellowed as he sliced through several assailants.
"And they just keep coming!" Prompto whimpered.
Ignis addresses the raven-haired boy through the scuffle. "Noct, you must go alone."
"What?" Said boy gasped in disbelief.
"If you can obtain the Crystal's power, we may yet turn the tide. Elsewise, we are all likely to perish here."
"Iggy's right," Gladio said in agreement. "It's our only chance."
"But what about you?" Noctis glanced around at his friends and War.
"We'll manage somehow! Just get moving!" Prompto yelled, shooting a daemon between the eyes.
Then, Ardyn broadcasts his voice over the loudspeakers. "You could still get to the Crystal... if you went on your own. Your friends will have to stay behind."
Noctis glanced at his friends and the Horseman before taking off. As he was running to the central elevator, someone grabbed his arm and hoisted him upward. With a grunt, he realized it was Death. She glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. "Need a ride, Your Highness?"
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Don’t You Say It!
It was nearby footsteps, not the knock on the cabin door or the voice that woke him up. "Vash, we are almost to the area, the captain asked for you topside".
The red haired Miqo'te sighed as he quickly wiped sleep from his eyes. Jobs like this were such a pain in the ass, and he had hoped to keep clear of them. After all he had a job working at the Red Lantern now, and he rather enjoyed things there. For a brief moment a smell hit him, familiar perfume that made him actually long to be back home. Green eyes narrowed slightly, nostalgia was not a usual feeling for him, nor was longing like this. Another sigh escaped his lips as he stood up and grabbed his weapon's belt and his jacket. Ahh…yeah the same jacket he had used to cover her up the other night when she fell asleep downstairs at the Lantern, that was where the smell came from.
In short order he was up on the deck of the airship, cool wind whipped by as they made good time to their destination in the Sea of Clouds, carefully hugging the floating islands to keep a low profile. Limsan born, but Vash was not fond of the ocean, but he did enjoy being up in the sky, the freedom was just as exhilarating as the dangers. "Yo, V'shen, how much longer?"
The shorter Seeker gave him a look like she was going to kick him, and she might very well do that because it was just her usual attitude. "It's 'Captain' out here Vash. And it won't be long now, our lookout spotted contrails already so we are certain to be in position to strike. And thankfully there are not Ishgardian ships in the area either."
"That's good, I dunno how well they would take us hunting a stolen ship instead of reporting it."
She flashed the taller Seeker a grin. "Not just a stolen ship, a stolen Imperial ship. Gotta admit, that makes this a helluva lot more fun."
Vash snorted and crossed his arms as he flashed her a smirk. "Oh and I am certain it is the thrill of the hunt, and not the prospect of getting all that loot that you are enjoying more."
V'shen opened her mouth to make a retort when over her ship's pearl she heard the lookout call that they had sighted the Imperial vessel to the northwest. "Damn they added some speed." Scowling now she broadcast ship wide. "Bring us into the ambush point, cannons and ballista make ready! Boarding teams prepare for action!"
It was controlled chaos now and Vash stayed back out of the way as he waited for things to really cook off. And cook off they did, the medium sized Garlean transport entered a narrow pass between two of the floating islands and soon found itself raked by cannon fire before heavy thuds announced the arrival of massive ballista bolts attached to chains which were in turn attached to winches on V'shen's ship. At least they could thank the Ishgardians for that idea.
Of course the other ship returned fire, to include two reapers that had been posted on the top deck of the transport. The ships shelled each other as the winches whined and began working their magic, slowly bringing the ships closer together. V'shen was not out to destroy the pilfered Garlean vessel, no profit in that, instead she had instructed her gunners to take out the weapons aboard their prey. A salvo blasted one of the reapers so hard that the magitek armor just vanished in a cloud of fire, smoke, and shrapnel. Already the pirates aboard the transport were forming ranks to repel boarders, they knew what was coming their way.
And they were not disappointed as the gap between the vessels closed to mere fulms and V'shen's men began to grapple aboard. Vash was in motion now, leaping aboard with the rest and drawing his long knives as soon as his feet touched the deck. What ensued was a bloody affair as the transport crew became overwhelmed and lost the upper deck in mere moments. Vash moved separate from the other boarders now, taking to what shadows he could find and heading down to the engine room.
The enemy crew was no push-overs despite being outnumbered and Vash learned that the hard way as soon as he set foot in his goal. BANG! A shot rang out, the round just barely missing him, and sending the Seeker diving for cover as more shots followed suit. Someone had been watching the entry very carefully.
"You'll never get our prize!"
"Uh… yeah we will!" Honestly, why did try to banter in the middle of a fight? Even more so when it gave them away. Vash smiled as he palmed two metal orbs depressing a button on each one before rolling them toward the voice. Right away he covered his ears.
A shrill whistle lashed out from those devices and it almost covered up the sudden sound of someone hurling up everything in their stomach. A less lethal device, courtesy of a buddy of Vash's. Vash had been prepared all along and as soon as the shrill died down he uncovered his ears and pulled the wool he had stuff in them on the way here.
A quick peek revealed that the other man was still retching up everything and Vash moved in to strike. Was it madness, or determination that decided Puke Boy's next actions? Regardless he thought the best reaction the approaching Miqo'te was to discharge his gun again…into a very important looking part of the engine. "She's not gonna be yours now!"
Vash wanted to facepalm over the man's defiance, but there was little time now as already alarms were going off. Instead he kicked the man's face as hard as one would a blitz ball, sending the fellow sprawling onto his back. From there it was a simple matter for Vash to plunge a blade into the man's heart to end his interference. And then it was back into a full sprint to the top deck, yelling as he went along, "Abandon ship! Abandon ship!"
Now it was true chaos as both V'shen's crew and the transport crew all tried to get to the boarding lines. Vash knew that he had to try and change the outcome of this increasingly poor situation, and so against his better judgement, or the thought process of most sane people, he altered course for the control room. Thankfully there were no pirates in the room so he could get to work without being interrupted, except for the yelling in his ear as V'shen tried to get her men clear.
Vash knew only a little of piloting an airship, having secretly taken one of the Lantern's vessels out with Kylar to learn. It would be a good way to impress someone one day. And of course Garleans had to make things so damn complicated! Still he worked furiously at the controls, to try and save the vessel from smashing down into what was far below the Sea of Clouds. Not smashing into an island would be nice too. The sound of twisting metal and ripping wood drew his attention next, out the viewport he saw the ballista bolts starting to tear up the deck of the ship, thankfully at that moment V'shen had her crew release the chains, her vessel would not get dragged down.
"Vash, where are you?!"
"I'm earning my Captaincy!"
"Wha…you idiot that is not how this works!"
He could not help but smirk to himself as he tried to pilot the vessel. "Look we all need this sorta intact! Now stop yelling at me, it is distracting."
Aboard her ship the small woman paced, her tail lashing. "This is not entitle you to a larger cut. And if you die I am not hunting down the owner of that perfume to tell her you were a hero or something."
Of course she would notice it…price of doing business with other Miqo'te. "You better not call me something like that. I have a reputation to uphold." Gritting his teeth he worked the controls hard to adjust the attitude of the falling vessel and steer toward port just a bit. He could not totally save the ship, even he knew that. The only thing that was left was to crash it as "softly" as possible.
The shuddering impact came, metal screeching along stone as the airship cut a swath along the large floating island that Vash had chosen as a landing site, it was sorta a landing. He held on with all he had and applied what little reverse thrust the wounded beast could muster. Out the window he saw the deck of the ship flexing and starting to buckle, sheets of metal peeling back and leaving a trail behind the transport. Thankfully there was a very large spire of rock sticking up and the prow of the ship smashed into it, finally halting the forward momentum. Unfortunately that sent Vash flying forward to smash into that viewport hard enough that it cracked.
V'shen had her ship down near the transport in moments, just in time to see a grease covered Seeker man emerge from the wreck, blood trickling down from a cut in his scalp. "Vash…you look like shit."
"Yeah ya know, any crash you can walk away from and all that." He jerked his thumb back toward the wreck. “And by the way, I get dibs on what is in the captain’s cabin, it’s on fair since I rode a fucking crashing airship down to safety.”
“Yeah yeah, okay that is fair enough.”
One of V'shen's men stopped to look at the guy that had just crashed an airship in a way to leave it mostly intact, and to walk out mostly unharmed. "That got to be the best pir…"
"Don't you fucking say it!" Vash already had a throwing knife in hand.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
something foreign but altogether completely familiar
“the fuck?”
“please?” jimin all but whined, head tucked comfortably atop yoongi’s lap as both sets of fingers moved rapid-fire against his ps4 game controller.
“no,” yoongi’s green humanoid blob managed to shove jimin’s blue twerky thing to go plunging to his doom off a rotating blimp.
”hah!” taehyung’s screech could be heard through his headset. “team taegi wildin’ out!”
“come on, just one time,” jimin’s eyes remained glued to the tv screen where he adamantly tried to body flop his way over taehyung’s yellow goop man that tried to throw him off again ”hoseok! you fuckin’ suck! you’re supposed to have my back!”
the only response received was a high pitched cackle-scream hybrid that had jimin flinching, probably bursting one of his eardrums as well. hoseok’s little red floppy dude went plummeting to his doom all on his own at the opposite end of the screen far from the melee going on between the other three players.
“yoongi please,” jimin was just that close of chucking his controller at the tv, nostrils flaring with annoyance at how crap he was at this game. “three hours, tops.”
“fuck no,” yoongi effectively managed to nudge both jimin’s and taehyung’s characters off the blimp, sacrificing his own partner with no remorse. (”hey! what the heck!”). “what part of no don’t you understand?”
“but i said please,” jimin finally tossed his controller and waved his metaphoric white flag of surrender. he opted for rolling flat on his back and lifting his gaze to stare up at the underside of yoongi’s chin with the softest puppy pout he could muster. “i thought we were bros.”
“no,” yoongi somehow managed to continue playing with a single hand, freeing the other to produce a swift flick on jimin’s forehead (”ow.”). “i am your elder, and you are a pint-sized peanut stuffed full of teenage gay angst and i don’t know why i put up with you.”
granted, jimin supposed that was true. yoongi was technically two years his senior. but they’d been practically biffles for life since childhood because their dads were fishing buddies. and jimin would rather have every last one of his teeth pulled out with steel pliers than to actually admit, but he picked this university for the sole purpose that it contained one min yoongi.
because.
best bros.
“but i thought you were my fam,” jimin plopped his body like deadweight and stretched his full height across the couch. “my homie for life, piña to my colada, the half to my whole, soy to my latte-”
“you can fuck right off with that.”
“and after all i’ve done for you,” jimin swooned, arm tossed over his eyes in a dramatic effect. he snuck a peak to glance up at the pointy end of yoongi’s nose.
the elder’s eyebrow was in serious danger of shooting up and out through the roof. if jimin didn’t know any better, and he liked to think he knew better than most, yoongi’s expression was definitely in danger of being permanently fixed the way it was, what with yoongi’s constant skepticism and no-fucking-nonsense-stick-up-his-ass-you-mess-with-me-i-will-shove-this-lamp-pole-up-your-fucking-dickhole attitude.
“pray tell, what exactly have you done for me?”
“like that one time,” jimin started, straightening out from his maiden’s swoon and poking up at yoongi’s left piercing. “you were thirsting over taehyung hardcore like the dehydrated prune ass bitch you are. and i had to step in and play cupid so you could finally man up the courage to tap dat.”
“damn boiiiii!” hoseok screeched.
“exposed!” taehyung followed. “i know i’m hot shit and all but daaaaang!”
“i will literally set your hair on fire, you oversized carrot top,” yoongi gritted through clenched teeth where jimin caught a muscle twitch. (”you love my glorious orange hair, don’t lie.”)
jimin could truly say that episode had been one helluva fuckin’ ride, an experience. to be honest, yoongi seemed to be hellbent on pretending the entirety of last winter holidays had never happened, it was that embarrassing. in the end, jimin’s efforts had been in vain and yoongi snapped right the fuck out of it when he realized taehyung was not the soft, sweet cotton fluff he thought and a whole lot of nasty, panty dropping extra that could not be contained.
yoongi shot him a brief, tight lipped smile that looked more constipated than anything else.
“it’s true though,” hoseok’s mirth was clearly visible even through the shitty wifi connection. “jimin did do you a solid.”
“the sex was really good though, you gotta admit.”
“first of all, you piece of shit,” yoongi’s game controller went to join jimin’s across the coffee table. “i did not thirst after taehyung-”
“you were so thirsty your skin was flaking,” jimin smirked, shortly before he was shoved off the couch to land in a puddle at yoongi’s feet. “ow, fuck that really hurt.”
“i am the king of gang beasts!” taehyung’s shrill deep voice echoed in jimin’s ears. “all hail king tae! bow, peasants, and kiss my feet!”
“the fucking disrespect,” yoongi’s toe nudge into jimin’s side, making him jerk sideways half under the table. “it was mid winter and i have eczema you snot rag. second of all,” yoongi continued on his tirade and jimin wheezed with laughter. “what you managed to do was set everyone up for fuckin’ centuries of cringeworthy humiliation that is bound to have my descendants curling in misery.”
“you’re so dramatic,” jimin smiled fondly, rolling back out from under the table and sitting himself up. he rested his chin along his arms crossed on the edge of the sofa by yoongi’s knees. “i totally helped you get dat ass. i am the best wingman.”
“you are a fucking nightmare, is what you are,” yoongi deadpanned, ruffling jimin’s already mussed up, pitch black hair.
“i know, but please,” jimin tried again, throwing on his best sulk face and capitalizing on the best asset god bequeathed him with. his plush, pouty lips. “just this one time,” he bat his lashes, just for good measure. “how often do i ask for favors?”
“all the fuckin’ time!”
“like when do you not?”
“did i ask for your opinion?! i think the fuck not!” jimin straightened out like a snapped spring and bellowed into his headset mic. through his peripheral vision, he saw yoongi take of his own headset and slowly rub at his temples.
“why do i put up with all of you,” yoongi let out a long suffering sigh.
“because you lo-”
jimin turned off the tv, remote arm out, cutting hoseok off mid-sentence. yoongi looked at him like he might kiss him. or not. with a shrug, jimin tossed the remote on the carpet by his feet.
“back to the subject,” he licked his lips, settling against the coffee table with his knees drawn to his chest. yoongi let out another heavy sigh, but that didn’t deter jimin. “just one time please. one date,” he attempted the most forlorn look, like stepped on flowers, run over a dog’s tail, cookies got burnt disconsolate. “taemin is gonna be there.”
“how do you even know this,” yoongi sighed. again.
“with jongin.”
jimin pouted extra hard.
“who the fuck is jongin,” yoongi rubbed his temples with his middle and forefinger, as if he was warding off an oncoming migraine. which is nonsense. because jimin is the light of yoongi’s life. he could attest to this.
“who is,” jimin's face crumpled. “who the fuck. jongin!” his arms shot up into the air. “kim jongin! the third year ballet twink with the good ass thighs and facial structure crafted by the gods! dance prodigy jongin!” jimin’s voice escalated with every syllable, in speed, pitch, and volume.
“that kim jongin. the one taemin dumped me for,” jimin was now truly feeling really sad. this was not how he’d anticipated this conversation to go down.
it still hurt. three weeks had passed since the evening that shall not be spoken of. and jimin’s chest still throbbed with an empty longing at the memories of how taemin had broken up with him at their favorite mom-and-pop cafe that had been the center point of almost a year’s worth of happy memories. the sacrilege, how dare?
“i found someone else,” taemin had said.
“well good riddance! ‘cause i was gonna break up with you first!” jimin’s brain to mouth filter completely went on vacation, leaving him with utter regret and despair. but why stop there? “i found someone else too!”
the look of surprise on taemin’s face had almost been worth it.
almost.
now jimin was stuck with empty words and no boyfriend to show for it.
“please,” jimin tried again, clutching at yoongi’s artfully ripped jeans, which was saying something as they were so tight they clung to the elder’s very legs like second skin. “i just gotta prove to him that i do have somebody else and i’m not like desperate-taylor-swift-binge-eating-sobfest-heartbroken.”
“you are heartbroken,” yoongi muttered, pulling off his headset and running a hand through his soft brown hair. “there’s nothing wrong with that. the asshole literally broke your heart. i’m pretty sure that’s the definition of heartbroken.”
“just to prove i have a boyfriend,” jimin could sense victory in the soft sigh leaving yoongi’s lips.
“but you don't.”
“minor detail,” jimin waved a nonchalant hand.
“i’d say that’s a big fucking detail,” yoongi replied gruffly, rubbing his face with his open hand.
“i’ll buy you dinner,” jimin enticed, coming up to his knees and peering up into yoongi’s face.
“it better be a good fucking dinner,” yoongi sighed, finally relenting.
success.
--
“i can't believe i let you talk me into this,” yoongi shook his head, jimin chancing furtive glances over his menu to look for that familiar face.
“just,” jimin finally caught taemin and his new boyfriend at the far side of the cafe, tucked away in a discreet corner booth. “pick something to eat while i do some recon.”
“fucking ridiculous,” yoongi released a long, deep breath but picked up his own menu and began to look through the list of foods. “recon,” yoongi snorted, a crease forming in between jimin’s brows as he tried to subtly, not so subtly, crane his neck as if he could actually catch what the other two were talking about if he stretched far enough.
he didn’t even notice as the waitress stopped by to take their order, squinting as he attempted to lipread what taemin was saying to jongin.
damn, it was hard to see exactly what words were being exchanged from this angle and distance.
but what wasn't too difficult to see, even for jimin from this length of space between, was the brilliant laughter playing on taemin’s lips and the way his eyes curved into that precious moon smile that was jimin’s favorite and had always been reserved for him and him only.
the dull thud in his chest echoed like a bucket dropped all the way to the bottom of an empty well.
he watched, breath held, as taemin pulled the other’s hand and pressed butterfly kisses along every knuckle. something he used to do for jimin too.
it felt as if he’d fallen into that empty well along with the bucket.
it hurt.
like a fucking bitch, it hurt.
he really thought he could do this. but he couldn't. not when taemin looked for all the world like a man completely smitten. and the other person wasn't jimin.
a sharp kick to the shin finally jolted his attention away from the other couple, a startled whine escaping through his parted lips as a bright hot pain traveled up his leg from the point of abuse.
“what the fuck,” jimin’s expression puckered, rubbing at the sore spot on his shin that was very likely to bruise. yoongi’s brow quirked, arms crossed over his chest looking bored as hell while jimin’s world came crashing down around his feet for what was probably the thousandth time since he’d been dumped.
“you’re supposed to be having a good time,” yoongi’s face softened when jimin bit down on his lower lip that had started to quiver. he blinked repeatedly, forcing back the burn that had begun to emerge around the corners of his eyes. it was becoming somewhat hard to breathe.
“do you want me to take you home?” the elder asked gently, and jimin shook his head faintly. “then what do you want to do?” yoongi enquired, head tilted to the side.
inhaling a shaky breath, jimin willed himself to calm. “can you just,” he answered after a moment of silence. “talk. just talk. about anything, i don't care. just please,” jimin didn’t really know what he was begging for. he just needed the pain in his chest to stop.
so yoongi began talking.
he started with a teacher aide in his music comp class that none of the students liked because he was a total pompous bitch. he talked about his latest assignment that was due in a few day’s time, but he’d procrastinated up until now because who fuck care anyways? he commented on the weather, about Pokémon GO, about a new movie that had come out, about the upcoming spring break and how their mothers expected them back home because yoongi’s older brother wanted him to meet his fiancé’s family and how jimin was going to come with him or else he’d die of boredom and the younger owed him a favor after this anyway.
the words flowed freely, and jimin was content to just listen to that deep silken voice wrap him softly like a bandaid over a wound.
he listened and he ate as yoongi talked, gradually forgetting the reason that he was here in the first place and began to actually engage in the conversation.
“do i get a free meal out of it?” jimin tipped his head to the side, popping a french fry in his mouth and licking the bit of ketchup off the end of his middle finger. at that, he thought he caught a near imperceptible dip in the elder’s adam’s apple. but he waved it off as just his imagination.
“freeloader,” a hand leaned over the table to ruffle jimin’s hair before he could swing out of yoongi’s reach.
“knock it off,” jimin huffed, batting the hand away. “and no i’m not.”
“you are soft as fuck,” yoongi laughed at the excitement that lit up jimin’s face. “yes, you’re getting a free meal out of my brother so you’re ass is coming.”
“okay.”
“and you act like you never get a free meal whenever you come banging on my doorstep anyway,” yoongi said in a deadpan tone, sliding his credit card into the check folder the waitress brought over. “you know how much my mom loves you.”
“i can’t wait to play with holly,” jimin hummed with a content smile, sipping on his watered down coke zero.
--
“thanks for, you know,” jimin stared down at his feet, scuffing the point of his right shoe against the concrete. he glanced up to see yoongi shrug, hands tucked away into the pockets of his jeans while they stood outside of jimin’s dorm.
they’d done this a million and trillion times before in the past. but why did jimin feel somewhat nervous?
yoongi was as familiar to him as his own right arm, or his favorite blanket back home.
there was something different though, hanging in the crisp night air between them... something that was never there before.
“thank you for being the best fucking bro in the whole fucking world?” yoongi prompted when he’d paused for long enough, jimin snorting with amusement and retuning somewhat back to planet earth.
“yeah, that,” he conceded, fingers clasped behind his back for lack of anything better to do with them. “thank you.”
something warmed inside jimin’s chest at the soft grin that spread across yoongi’s face, eyes traveling down his side profile as the elder looked up into the starry deep sky above.
when their eyes met again, it was as if jimin hadn’t known yoongi his entire life, since toddlerhood, something foreign yet altogether completely familiar thrumming in his chest.
“’night.”
“good night,” jimin licked his suddenly dry lips. he watched as yoongi turned, breaking into a light jog as he moved back towards his car parked in the no-parking zone with the emergency lights flashing.
what the hell?
--
“i’ve been doing some thinking.”
silence.
“can i ask you something?”
the only response jimin received was a muted grunt.
“and hear me out, okay? don’t just completely write this off,” jimin continued, staring at yoongi’s back from his current position of lying perpendicular across the elder’s bed, head hanging upside down over the edge.
yoongi didn’t even glance up from the composition project he was working on. the one he’d procrastinated on for weeks now. the one that was due within the next twenty-four hours, holy fucking shit rest in pieces.
“i think we should try kissing a go,” jimin blurted out, body tensed, as he watched for yoongi’s response.
there was the briefest of pause in his constantly moving hand, the soft pen scratches going even quieter still until it had completely stopped.
jimin held his breath, if only to not break the utter silence. the room was so thick with it, he thought he could put a knife right through it and cut a slice straight out of the air.
cricket cricket bitch.
after several minutes had passed, jimin was about to laugh it off as a joke when yoongi finally responded, “don’t be stupid,” and resumed his work once again as if jimin hadn’t said anything at all.
“but i’m being serious,” jimin rolled over onto his front, chin propped up on his clasped fingers and boring holes in the elder’s back between his shoulder blades.
yoongi finally turned, shooting jimin a long, searching look that had him squirming to the very tips of his toes.
without another word, the elder lobbed a crumbled up composition sheet that landed squarely in the center of jimin’s forehead.
“ow what the fuck?!”
--
“i cannot believe,” yoongi exhaled a sigh of resignation, glaring up at the ceiling flashing technicolor strobe lights as if it had done him some personal great injustice.
“is that jongin over there? can y’see him? i can’t tell if it’s him or not,” jimin was just this close to overbalancing and tipping over the barstool with how far he was stretching his neck to catch a glance of the familiar looking couple dancing amongst the drunken crowd.
he’d lost count of how many shots of tito’s he’d downed in the past few hours they’d been camped out at the congested bar. jimin was a man on a mission. and yoongi’s palm was warm against the small of his back, propped there to prevent his fall, made all the warmer by the inebriating flush that spread across his cheeks.
nibbling on his parched lips, jimin leaned even further out to squint at the blond haired man that looked kind of like taemin and kind of didn’t, only breaking his stare when taehyung dipped by to pass him another shot of something or other.
“drink bitch!”
“i think not,” yoongi swooped in before jimin could reach to intercept the small glass rimmed with salt.
“ooh tequila?” jimin pivoted on the stool without warning, nearly knocking the drink out of yoongi’s hand and quite suddenly placing the elder to stand in between his legs.
“but i have limes!” taehyung’s boxy smile stretched so wide, jimin couldn’t help but grin back as he tried to grab the shot.
“i think you’ve had enough,” yoongi stretched his arm away from jimin’s circumference of reach.
“but i have limes!” taehyung repeated as if that tidbit of fact made it even more important. and quite frankly, jimin couldn't help but agree.
“give it,” he pouted, one hand grasping onto yoongi’s shoulder and the other reaching out making grabby hands at the glass.
“why you gotta cock block?” taehyung whined, having already downed his own and cramming the lime wedge into his mouth.
“no,” yoongi said in a no-nonsense tone that should've brooked no argument.
but jimin was buzzed and had no shits to give at the moment, completely forgetting that his best bro for life had promised to please, please, please play designated let’s-not-let-jimin-do-anything-utterly-stupid-whilst-in-his-intoxicated-state.
however, that was besides the point.
what was the point again?
instead, jimin opted for wrapping his legs around yoongi’s waist to bring him even closer, extending his wiggling arm to the best of its somewhat stunted abilities to reach, reach, reach...
oh.
“shit!”
“ow.”
“y’okay?”
the stool ended up tipping over, both of them landing in a puddle of confused limbs and pained grunts. but jimin’s fall had been miraculously cushioned by yoongi’s chest, the elder having fallen flat on his back against what jimin could only imagine was the disgustingly alcohol-sticky tiled floor. gross.
yoongi groaned, his voice barely audible over the pounding bass intermixed with taehyung’s loud shrieking.
“hey,” jimin rested his chin on yoongi’s chest, his already muddled brain just a tiny bit overwhelmed by the stale and bitter scent of beer that lingered on the other’s lips. “you’re kinda cute, how did i never notice before.”
yoongi snorted, groaned, jimin couldn't tell which.
“i’m gonna kiss you,” jimin said before his consciousness could actually catch up with his brain. “y’know, not because we’re best bros or anything, but like because you’re kinda cute right now and i’m kinda drunk and i couldn't think about anything but this for the past few days since-”
“just fucking shut up,” yoongi leaned up and pressed his lips onto jimin’s.
it tasted bitter, but it was warm and soft. and it tasted like something foreign but altogether completely familiar, like a promise of the past and present and future.
it tasted like home.
“literally you are such a piece of shit,” yoongi smiled fondly when they finally came up for air.
yup, definitely felt like home.
#yoonmin#bts fic#pre-relationship#fluff#mini mini mini angst#slice of life#literally have no idea what this is#there's a lot of cursing involved#past 2min
13 notes
·
View notes
Link
***A quick disclaimer: I don’t particularly advocate for the objectification of anyone, but sometimes, it can be nice to watch the tables get turned, ESPECIALLY when it involves the dreamy baby blues of one Tom Hiddleston.***
Kong: Skull Island is a blast. Set towards the end of the Vietnam War in 1973, the flick breathes fresh life into a tired franchise and subverts your expectations at every turn. Sure, it might be campy and over-the-top, but thats what makes it so damn fun. It’s got the visuals of Apocalypse Now paired with the soundtrack of pretty much every ‘Nam movie, and its monster is just as simultaneously scary and sympathetic as you want him to be. Rather than bringing Kong to the big city and watching him fall in love with our scantily-clad damsel in distress, Kong: Skull Island brings a motley crew of scientists, military men, and a photographer to explore an uncharted island and instead plunges them straight into chaos.
Brie Larson stars as anti-war photographer Mason Weaver, the would-be damsel – but she never really ventures into that territory. In Jordan Vogt-Roberts’ Kong, there isn’t time to waste with tossing Larson around like a rag doll and having men fall in love with her left and right; she’s got serious business to take care of. Sure, there’s a little sexual tension at play, but there’s never even a climactic kiss. Instead, much of the film’s instances of objectification hone in on the dreaminess of Tom Hiddleston – and the flick’s all the more fun for it.
Hiddleston stars as James Conrad, a former British Special Air Service Captain who now works as a hunter-tracker for hire. He may have a hardened exterior, but at the end of the day, he’s a total mush who just wants everyone to make it out of here alive. Over the course of Kong: Skull Island‘s 118 minutes, we get many different Hiddlestons to ogle at. Whether he’s beating people up in a bar with a pool cue or going full samurai on some mini-pterodactyl-like creatures, we get long, lingering gazes into his baby blues or at his toned arms, and it only adds to the film’s delightfully ridiculous nature. Who knew he could run through the water like that and throw a body over his shoulders with such ease?
So which Kong Hiddleston is your favorite? Don’t be shy, there’s plenty of eye candy to go around
Are you more of a grizzled Hiddleston fan? Into the negotiation for more cash and shifty gazes?
Or are do you learn towards clean-shaven, sweater-wearing, brooding Hiddles? He knows there’s danger ahead, and he’s prepared for it.
If you’re more into gun-wielding, group-leading Hiddleston, we understand. We totally want tickets to that gun show.
His face may not be on full display, but samurai sword-swinging, neon green gas-surrounded, pterodactyl-fighting Hiddleston is legendary.
And subtle as it may be, there’s no denying this out-of-focus Hiddleston body shot. #Hiddlestance
We’ll leave other moments of this glorious objectification a surprise, but whether you’re here for the primate or your most primal instincts, Kong: Skull Island is a helluva good time – and now streaming on HBO.
174 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
tarrynightss
Who’s a heretic now?
shiny-airplane
Carefree actor that would always try again
artkaolinite91
Lini's Art World
