#[ i thought it'd make more sense if the patterns you could get were the ones from spain portugal and catalonia ]

[scarletdex]

Hey Florian! Do you have a favourite pokémon?

I'd love to have one of each wing pattern someday! I only have the Meadow, Marine, Elegant, Modern, and Fancy pattern right now, though.

[remlionheart]

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

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Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

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[twstfanblog]

*~Period Drama~* Thursday

A/N: Guess this one won XD Very excited, the end is near for this series and then I can start to hyper-focus on ANOTHER SERIES. Please tell me if you want to be tagged for any of my series! Pairings: Malleus/Jamil/Azul/Yuu poly WordCount: 7.1K Warnings: Allusions to assault briefly, She/They OC Pronouns

@twistedcece @deltrea @krenenbaker @koebishrimpuwu @cat100200 @emyluwinter @obsessionswithfandoms @ady-hilborn @lucid-stories @girl-nahh-two @itz-hydrodeptus-foxy7 @chyluna @riddlesimps @death-the-jo @a-twistedheartslonging @qixlin @chaosistheonlyway @welcome-to-my-horde @abell2029cluster @kirans-wonderland @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @the-ace-reader @iamsoconfusedallofthetime @chroniccorvus @marvelous-maxi @prolonged-eyecontact @lozplayer @jabberwocky-warrior @thateldribitch @bun-lapin @mel1rose @ladyraeka @ladyzsgolla @kimdourden @noncreativepage-blog @girl-nahh-two @shironakuronatasa @colombia-chan @roseapov @anunholyabomination @koebi-channnn

Start, Part 2 (Octavinelle), Part 3 (Heartslabyul), Part 4 (Savanaclaw), Part 4.5 (Diasomnia pt1), Part 5 (Diasomnia pt2), Part 6 (Pomfiore), Part 7 (Here)

The Pomefiore trio didn't stay the night. Vil commented that they had already skipped their afternoon classes and he wouldn't allow them all to get more off routine by spending the night. Thankfully, Vil helped Yuu properly twist and wrap their hair with Rook producing a silk scarf from seemingly nowhere before they left.

Hours later, Crewel arrived with even more period panties in his possession along with their dinner. He asked multiple questions; if the seams were too tight, if the fabric felt uncomfortable, if anything had leaked. Delighted that all seemed proper, Crewel launched into how he had never thought of the need for such a product. But he admitted that such areas on the body had fluid leaking from them at some point. It'd only make sense that if it was made they'd at least look fashionable.

Crewel stated that he would speak to his aunt, the current design head of his family's fashion house, about the underwear and if she saw a market for it.

“If so, I will make sure you get a cut. Since you were the one to insight such a need…”

He left them a small pamphlet with info on taking care of their new underwear before leaving for the night, hugging them tightly and patting them on the head.

Another hour later, Malleus and Lilia had returned to the house. Malleus was pouting heavily and crawled into the nest to hold them with no word. Lilia sighed, explaining that Malleus spent the entire school day keeping Jamil and Azul trapped in the Mostro Lounge back office. The prince tried his best but Lilia and Jamil remained firm on not allowing Malleus to change their prior agreement. Azul proved to be the weakest link in half-siding with Malleus. While he didn't fully agree with Malleus impregnating Yuu as soon as possible, he did state that something had to be done about their periods in the long term.

‘They were on campus for no more than four hours; the smell of blood still lingers in places…’

Yuu laughed, turning in Malleus’s hold to hug him back, “Do you still smell blood now?”

“...” Malleus’s eyes widen, “Now that you ask, no. Has your ailment ceased?”

“Nope. Still bleeding, but…” Yuu lifted their night dress, showing the brightly patterned underwear before lowering their gown, “Crewel got me cute new underwear to contain my biohazard.”

Lilia sighed, sitting beside the couple in the nest, “Well, that's good at least. Though didn't you say your normal cycle only lasts four days? Shouldn't it have eased by now?”

“I mean…it should. But it also wasn't normal for me to not get it for nearly half a year. Best I can do right now is play it by ear”

Malleus pouts, eyes glaring at the wall as though it could fix anything and simply refuses to help, “I dislike this, I dislike this greatly.”

“Aw…” Yuu tilted their head back, pressing a kiss to Malleus’s jawline before snuggling back into his embrace, “I hate it too. Wanna watch a movie with me?”

“...It would be an upsetting one, wouldn’t it?”

“Most of my favorite movies upset you guys. But, no, it shouldn't.” Yuu clicked at their laptop playing up their Netflix, “It's called ‘Damsel’. It's got a dragon in it-”

“Does the dragon die?” Lilia quickly asked, eyeing the screen in distrust. Yuu had claimed many times they would love a movie, only to then show them deeply distressing media.

“No, the dragon lives and even gets his just revenge-”

Malleus looks at the screen with a suspicious eye, “Does a woman die within the first few moments of this film?” Malleus had watched many movies with Yuu, and every time they insisted he would love a movie a woman would be dead within the first few minutes of the film.

Yuu playfully slapped their hand over Malleus’s mouth, pressing play on the video, “It's for the plot, now shush, and watch the damn movie.”

Malleus was dragged out of the nest by Lilia early in the morning, forced to gaze at Yuu’s equally upset self before being marched back to Diasomnia. Seems part of Malleus’s punishment for kidnapping and detaining Azul and Jamil was that he wasn't allowed more than eight hours of supervised ‘Yuu Time’. So once those hours were up Lilia was manhandling a nearly seven-foot pouting dragon out of a sleeping Yuu's embrace and out of Ramshackle.

Yuu sighed, starfishing in the nest with a severe pout. Most of their period symptoms had eased, though they were still bleeding and bloated. The number of techniques Vil and Rook had given them helped what little of their cramps were left without the need for pain medication. So now all they were left with was an intense sense of boredom.

After the sun had started to peak through the windows, Yuu decided they might as well get started on their extensive chores list. One could only put off washing dishes for so long…But, now, staring into the sink filled with dishes, Yuu wondered if they could…pretend they didn't see them. Each side had dishes neglected and stacked neatly against the porcelain. Plates, pots, and pans from the past week untouched and unsoaked. Looking around the room only made their body cry out more to go back to the nest and sleep. Floyd cooking was already a coin toss on how much of a mess he left behind and they lost. But it didn't help at all that Lilia had been in the kitchen only a few days ago as well. Scraps of food burnt and crumbled on the floor that was long overdue to be swept.

More than likely the only reason the dishes were in the sink was because Vil had put them there as a form of passive-aggressively telling them to wash them.

While they were wondering if they could put their cutting board over the sink to block out the image, knocks rang out downstairs, pelted in a constant rhythmic beat. Yuu walked from the kitchen, smiling as they saw a flash of white, burgundy, and gold from the window beside the front door. They wait, opening the door on an offbeat to Kalim’s surprised expression making the Scarabia second-year whine.

“Yuu! I had a really good beat going…”

“Hello to you too, Kalim. What do I owe this visit?”

Kalim smiled, resting his hands on his hips when he remembered why he was there, “Well, me and Jamil-”

“Jamil's here?”

Kalim laughed, not at all offended when Yuu lightly shoved him out of the doorway to look down the path. Sure enough, the vice warden was walking up the stone steps, looking through a large duffle bag slung over his shoulder and wheeling a rolling cart filled with cleaning supplies behind him with the other.

Smiling, Yuu quickly unwrapped her hair to allow the curls to seductively frame her face and wave, “Hi, Jamil~! Let me help you bring that stuff in-”

Yuu had barely placed their foot outside of the house's threshold when Jamil snapped his eyes toward them. Glaring hard enough that a flicker of red seemed to spawn in his pupils before he yelled, “Get back in the fucking house!”

“Okay. Damn.”

Yuu and Kalim both scurried into the house, each wearing a mildly fearful expression but waiting patiently for Jamil to walk inside like chastised children.

Once through the doorway Jamil closed and locked the door, situating his cart against the entryway wall. He pulled Yuu closer by the hip, his other hand resting gently on the back of their neck as he pressed his lips against theirs. The kiss lasted only a few seconds before he pulled away, giving their lips a final peck at the corner before wrapping both arms around them in an embrace. Yuu hummed, returning the affectionate hold before allowing Jamil to pull away.

Yuu smiled, tilting their head in question, “What's got you all worked up? That was a ‘Put that shit back’ kinda yell…”

“The last time you left this house, you bled all over the campus and Leona-san nearly died.”

“I didn't bleed anywhere and what the fuck does my bleeding pussy have to do with Leona dying!? He was fine the last I saw him!”

Jamil huffed, pressing one last kiss to Yuu's temple before collecting his cleaning cart, “I’m sure Leona-san would blame you for the fact he had to fight Malleus to keep him from storming Ramshackle.”

Yuu's face pinched, a hybrid expression of annoyance and confusion on their face. Turning to Kalim they gestured as though he'd have the answer they were seeking, “When was this!?”

Kalim laughed, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, there was that massive storm on Monday. A tree got tossed into the library.”

Yuu frowned, folding their arms and rolling their eyes, ��I'm not taking responsibility for that. All I did was bleed and bitch. I didn't attempt murder even once Monday!”

“Uh-huh, sure hayati. Go sit with Kalim for a few hours while I go clean up.”

Jamil knew his datemate; habitually, emotionally, and physically. Every mannerism filed away in his head, be it for his own sake of mind or just because he found their quirks cute. Jamil knew in their current state of constant pain, Yuu was not doing upkeep at their normal pace. And while a part of him groaned in annoyance — one of the few days off from school he allowed himself and he's going to spend it cleaning his datmate's dumpster fire of a house — he knew that Yuu's health and mood would only improve once chores were done.

Yuu frowns even harder, moving to grab Jamil's cart and pull the sophomore back, “Wha-no! Jamil, you don't need to do my chores for me. I just gotta...suck it up and do them…and I will…at some point. But-!”

“No, buts, hayati.” Jamil yanks the cart from Yuu, cupping their cheek and caressing it with a soft smile. He looked into their eyes, snake charmer not even needed as he cooed, “Let me take care of you, okay, baby?”

Yuu instantly yielded, giggling and twirling a strand of their curly hair, “Ehehehehehe, okay Jamil~...”

Seeing his datemate properly subdued, Jamil quickly dropped his flirty tone and moved to the kitchen, “Good. Kalim, look after them for me.”

“You can count on me, Jamil!” Kalim was already guiding a still giggling Yuu toward the lounge at the back of the house with a gentle push to their shoulders.

Kalim had adored the nest instantly, flopping into the cushions like it was his own bed. He wanted to add to it, making it even bigger with some fine patterned blankets back in Scarabia. Maybe a few more pillows-

Yuu, finally free from the effects of Jamil's easy-going smile and hooded eyes, had laughed and quickly stopped the housewarden from touching the nest in an effort to change it. Stating that Malleus had built it just for them and they really liked how it looked as is. While he pouted, he yielded to Yuu’s desires, only after she had promised to make a pillow fort in Scarabia once they were all better. 

While cozy in the nest, Kalim had produced a sleeve of artisan crackers that he offered to feed them. Yuu agreed, though confused on why Kalim wanted to feed them. But quickly understood as the second-year smiled and held a cracker up, “Pspspspspspsps-”

“KALIM-”

Now lounging cozy in the nest, the sleeve of crackers slowly disappearing between them. Chatting contently with the idea of talking until Jamil called them for lunch. Chats that became on and off in topic as Kalim had locked eyes with a faded smear of blood on one of the towels under his leg. He would answer Yuu's questions after a second of staring at the smudged, rusty stain in total focus. Before long, he couldn't take the vision of it, his own mind working against him. Images of blood splatters on finely threaded sheets, children wailing in terror as innocent mothers and siblings lay in the deep red puddles during what should have been joyous celebrations. Even the more horrifying scenarios of the Viper family quickly disposing of stained bedding, older sisters and younger moms being consoled as they cried in the early mornings. Suddenly Kalim reached forward, grasping onto Yuu's hand and holding it tightly to his chest.

Kalim smiled, an edge of something uncharacteristically serious clinging to the corners, “Yuu, can I be honest?”

“Um…Yeah? Go for it, Kalim.”

“I've got a lot of moms. Lots of siblings too, so there are a lot of people in my house all the time. And…” Kalim’s grip on their hand tightens, his smile falling a bit as his eyes cast downward, “A lot of…a lot of bad stuff happens at my house sometimes. Stuff that shouldn't ever happen…so…you can tell me, ya know? I can take it.”

“...Tell you what?”

Kalim looks back up, crimson eyes cold and more determined than Yuu had ever seen them, “Yuu, if someone hurt you, you can tell me. No matter who you say did it, I'll believe you and take care of it.” Kalim placed one hand against their shoulder, the other squeezing their joint palms to his heart, “You're like a sister to me. You make Jamil happy and that's the most wonderful thing I could ever ask of a friend of mine. If someone did something to you and you lied for whatever reason, you can tell me the truth now and I'll believe you no matter what.” 

…

Yuu couldn't stop the snort they made, head tilting down as they strained against a laugh. Nothing Kalim said was funny, it was purely a moment of stunned reaction rather than comedy. Last Saturday seemed so long ago, the cloud of confusion and panic as their friends all came to the conclusion they had been assaulted, the horror they all felt and the pure devastation a few of them displayed. Each of them clearly ready and willing to maim whoever they pointed a finger at. It was…strangely heartwarming.

Covering their mouth, they moved their hand from Kalim’s hold to tug him closer into a hug, “No one hurt me, I swear. But, thank you for being so willing to believe me no matter what. It makes me feel…safe.”

Kalim hugs back just as tight, taking a deep breath before letting out a shuddering sigh. Smiling, he nuzzled into Yuu's shoulder before pulling away, “That's a relief…but…” his expression turns concerned, eyes drifting downward, “Are you…just leaking blood from down there?”

“Yep…”

“...” Kalim leaned away, his arms getting pressed between his legs and sympathy pains slowly crept into his gut as he grimaced, “I can't catch it right?”

Yuu falls over in the nest, cackling loudly while Kalim kept looking worried, “Kalim. I swear to you, your pussy isn't going to spontaneously start peeling and juicing it. And if it does, that's a concern. Get that checked out, babes.”

“Well, you should get checked out too then! Let me bring one of my doctors to the school, they won't say a word about how weird your body is and we can make sure you're healthy!”

“The fuck-How weird my body is? Fuck you.” Yuu snicked, rolling on the nest to tilt their head back to smile up to Kalim, “No. I'm going to ignore every ailment my body develops until it's too late like the born American I am.”

“Yuu, that's concerning!”

Kalim wanted a snack, a snack he begged her to let him make himself. The heir had stated he was getting better in the kitchen compared to the first few cooking lessons Yuu and Jamil had given him. Kalim had proudly bragged that Jamil had even allowed him to use the stove unattended now.

(Yuu knew from Jamil’s past venting it was only to watch boiling water, but it was using the stove…)

The two walked into the kitchen, noticing the sweet scent of grapefruit in the halls. A guilty feeling settled in Yuu’s stomach after seeing how clean their kitchen was in the single hour they and Kalim had sat and chatted in the lounge. The dishes were all washed, the sink and cabinets wiped down of every sauce splatter Yuu had long neglected. The floor was swept to perfection and a part of Yuu hoped that the fresh fruit adjacent smell was only the simmer pot and not a freshly mopped floor. Looking into the single pot on the stove, Kalim and Yuu gave pleased hums as they took in the scent of sliced grapefruits, vanilla beans, and sprigs of fresh thyme. 

With the instructions of being careful should a fairy be sleeping in any of the pots or in the oven, Yuu let the Scarabia warden have free reign of their kitchen while they went searching for their boyfriend. 

The muted sound of their washer knocking against the wall led them toward the laundry room.

The Ramshackle laundry room was one of the few rooms that weren’t locked but simply hidden from view. The Tweels had been the ones to find it during Azul’s brief ownership of the building. A false wall that could unlatched and slid to the side to show a certified massive-sized matching washer and dryer set, a wall of cabinets and a wooden topped counter island. Jade had cleaned up the room a bit as an ‘apology’ for giving them such a hard time during the duration of their contract. Floyd had stated he wasn’t sorry but to call him if they ever used the laundry powder found in the room; apparently it had been discontinued years ago for safety reasons.

Dubious washing powder aside, the laundry room was weirdly whimsical. Over the years, a bush had managed to break a window to grow throughout the room making a living ivy wall all along one side of the space. The vines had grown strong enough over time to act as a crisscross of clothing lines. Walking into the room, Yuu watched Jamil stare in complete focus at a towel in his hand standing at the island. The duffle bag was opened on the counter, a few jars and bottles with handwritten labels pulled from it and one opened in Jamil’s free hand. He watched whatever the mixture was doing before moving the towel under the running water of the built-in sink.

Yuu knocked on the doorway, smiling when Jamil looked up from his task, “What ya doing?”

“Why are you here? Go entertain Kalim.”

“You are so mean to me. Just for that, I'm gonna bother you and love you and-”

Jamil sighed, holding up the towel in his hands, “Hayati, please. I'm trying to spot-check things you bled on.”

Yuu frowned, walking over and leaning against the counter to stare at Jamil's concentrated face, “You can do that and let me kiss you on the mouth…”

“Normally, I'd love to make out with you while waiting for laundry to run its cycle, but I need to focus. Blood is easy for me to get out of things at this point. But blood and whatever else is coming out of you changes how the detergents react.” The first few towels with corroded holes from too strong a solution mix backing up his claims…

Pouting, Yuu bumped their hip against Jamil's. They repeated the motion until the sophomore finally yielded and reached for their hand, holding it gently as a blush dusted onto his cheeks. Smiling, Yuu leaned their head against Jamil's shoulder muttering under their breath, “Thank you.”

“Just let me work in peace…”

Once their load of pre-period clothing was in the dryer, Jamil had remarked that their period blood was easier to remove than normal blood spills surprisingly enough. And that he would replace the few towels the protein dissolvant had eaten though. Then he demanded they bring him every last article they had bled on. The longer they remained untreated, the harder the stains would be to remove.

Jamil had already started to separate the towels by dark and lights, taking a moment to gently shove Yuu away from his side, “Go back to the lounge with Kalim; I’ve got this handled.”

“Oh, Kalim’s in the kitchen-”

“He’s what-”

“It’s fine! He just wanted a snack-”

“The stove is on-”

“Jamil.” Yuu had managed to keep the second-year from rushing out of the room, tugging him back by the arm and smiling at his panicked expression, “Kalim is a seventeen-year-old boy. He can be trusted to work a stove. Remember? How you're both trying to be less codependent? How Kalim can manage to make himself a snack without you having to drop everything to make it for him?”

“...” The pout Jamil turns away to hide was foul, almost a sneer if Yuu could have looked at it closer. He was quiet for a few more moments before sighing, “Fine…but if I smell smoke-.”

“He'll be fine.” Please don't let that fucking jinx anything…

Two sets of hands were better than one. A simple fact Yuu kept repeating until Jamil yielded again to their whims. Now they followed him around the house, helping to collect any stray articles that had their period blood on them. Jamil groaned lightly as he looked at the nest. He was aware every couch cushion was used to construct it, along with nearly every last clean pillow, towel, and bedding. But, he wouldn't be able to check if anything was dirty until the nest went away. A feat he wasn't going to perform himself since both Yuu and Malleus were fond of the structure.

So he picked the next best location of Yuu’s bedroom. A mistake on many parts, but he honestly expected no less…

He stared into the room, Yuu sheepishly standing beside him and refusing to look even vaguely in his direction. Jamil wasn't sure if the room was an absolute mess when the group had stormed the area on Saturday, but he could see it was the aforementioned dumpster fire he was expecting the rest of the house to be. Clothing was everywhere, a pair of patterned pj shorts on the ground with a darkened blood stain on the crotch, equally blood-spotted towels in a pile and bedding swirled around as though someone fought their way out. There were several empty bowls, snack wrappers, and juice bottles littering every surface, nearly twelve bottles were all on a single end table.

Jamil turned to Yuu, sighing deeply when they still refused to meet his eyes, “I'm not mad-”

“Yes, you are.”

���You're right, I'm furious. How do you let it get so bad?”

“In my defense…I haven’t been up here for a few days-”

“Yuu, I bought you that bottle of juice.” Jamil pointed to the bedside table, eyes locked on a half-empty bottle of a limited-edition flavor that both Kalim and Yuu had begged him to let them try, “That bottle has been here at least a week.”

“Look-”

“I am. That’s why I’m upset.”

“Let’s just clean this up and you can scold me later. Help me strip the bed.”

Jamil grumbled, looking at the floor and making a mental note to bring his cart upstairs to mop Yuu’s bedroom once she was distracted with Kalim again. While Yuu started to remove the numerous bottles from the side tables, Jamil grabbed the edge of a blanket and pulled it off the bed only to jump at the loud thud that followed. Both looked at the floor under the blanket Jamil had In his hands.

A jug. A half-full jug of bright blue liquid with a label consisting of cartoon-styled fruit and waves.

“...” Jamil grabbed Yuu before she could scurry away from him. Pointing at the juice container he tilted his head with a smile, “What is this? Because it surely can't be an entire gallon of juice. In your bed. Because that'd be insane, wouldn't it?”

“...I mean it's mostly empty-”

“Yuu.”

“It's not that bad! I get thirsty at night and sometimes I don't want to go all the way downstairs for a glass of water…”

Jamil jerkingly gestured to the ensuite bathroom, no more than four feet away from where they were both standing.

“Bathroom water is good, but kitchen sink water hits different, you know?”

“If I didn't love you…”

Jamil tried to keep quiet as they both stripped the bed. With every blanket and pillow removed, more and more items were revealed; half-eaten bags of chips, opened containers of cookies, more select bottles of juice and soda. The real kicker was the empty containers, each closed tightly to not let crumbs out onto the sheets.

Pulling out another package of cookies, Jamil cast a withering glare at Yuu, “Please tell me you aren’t teaching Kalim how to do this…”

Yuu laughed, waving off their boyfriend’s concern, “Oh, no. Bedrotting is way too advanced for him. He’d get crumbs everywhere just putting a plate on his bed.”

“At least we’re in agreement there…” He finally pulled the sheet off the bed, clicking his tongue at seeing his worst expectation. The number of towels and blankets still allowed the blood to reach the mattress, barely staining the cotton fabric top a dull red, but still visible, “Damn…How much do you bleed during this? You’ve been taking the iron supplements, right?”

“Yeah…” Yuu walked over, frowning at seeing they had stained their mattress, “I’ll be honest, I barely know what the normal amount to bleed is. It’s also lasting longer than normal though…”

“Hmm…” Jamil placed the folded sheet on the bed, moving to press his hands against Yuu’s face and neck as a means to check them over, “I’m only noticing it now, but you’re a little bloated. Is that part of it? Do you know how long it lasts? Bloating could be a sign of something else being wrong…”

Yuu smiles, placing their hands over Jamil’s and pulling them away, “Yes, the bloating is part of it. I’ll be fine once this hell week is over. I'm used to this only lasting like four days. The whole week is just cruel and unusual…”

“Four days?”

“Jesus. You said that like when I told you I’ve eaten belladonna berries as a child. The fuck are periods like here?”

“A lot less bloody for one…And not as long. Menses generally isn’t normal unless it’s after birth, and even then it’s fairly rare if done in a comfortable medical setting.”

“Is the word actually menses? Because that’s hilarious. The medical name for a period is called menstruation.”

“...‘Menses’ is the term for vaginal bleeding and discharge. The process is commonly known as ‘The Refresh’. Thinking it over it’s decently similar; the food cravings, agitated moods, lethargy. However, The Refresh lasts, at most, two days. Any longer than that and it’s a medical concern. I’ve never heard of the process being painful either…” Growing up with a younger sister and a household that had a revolving door of pregnant women made him more knowledgeable than he realized. 

“...” Yuu bit her lip, smiling and nodding their head as a mask to the spike of fury that coursed through them, “I will find out how to cast endometriosis and destroy nations…”

“What the fuck is endometriosis?”

“Something that’ll take out half you fuckers, but whatever.” Yuu sighed, flopping down onto the bare bed and letting themselves metaphorically puddle into the slab.

Jamil sat beside them on the mattress, running his hand along their back and massaging in small intervals, “The pain can get that bad…? How do you feel now? You don’t have it right, endometriosis? Or is it a phase of this?”

“Stop asking me questions, you’re worse than Riddle…” Yuu moved their face from the cotton top of the mattress, looking from the corner of their eyes at Jamil, “I don’t think I have it…cramps are just really bad but not like…to the point of ‘I need hospital attention bad’, I think…Periods are just sucky and I hate it.”

“Are there other ways to help? You aren't taking any more pain potions, right? You've been taking…a lot in a small amount of time…”

Yuu hums, reaching a hand to play with the end of Jamil's braid, “I mean…orgasms help with pain relief? But, Vil taught me a bunch of other stuff yesterday to help with the cramps. Plus just a nice soak in warm water does wonders…Jamil?”

“...” Shrugging his shoulders, Jamil slipped off the bed, “Eh, it's just blood.”

Yuu threw a questioning glance over their shoulder, “Wha-Jamil!?” She shrieked, being flipped onto her back. Raising up on her elbows, she sees Jamil kneeling between her now-opened legs.

The second-year smirks, his hands already massaging the tops of her thighs, “I'm down here all the time anyway. Might as well give you some relief.”

She sputters, smiling and trying to flip back over and cross her legs, “Oh, my god. You didn't even ask-” another tug pulls her closer to him and moving her hips over the edge of the bed and letting him kiss against their pelvic, “JAMIL!”

“Kalim, are you still in the kitchen? What have you been-...” Yuu froze in the archway of the kitchen, looking at the now-dressed small square table pushed against the wall.

Perking up from the freezer door, Kalim smiled, “Oh, hi Yuu! I just finished making the brownie ice cream sandwiches, but everything else is ready for lunch. Where's Jamil?”

“Washing his face. Kalim, did you order this food?” They pointed at the table, bewildered at the spread.

Sitting at the center of the table was one of their glass serving pitchers filled with juice, a platter of chicken tenders, and two smaller serving bowls of what looked to be mixed vegetables and mashed potatoes. There were placemats and proper dishware all set for three people. Yuu even noticed beside the pitcher was a napkin sloppily folded to look like a candle.

He frowns, folding his arms, “No? I made it! Since Jamil was so busy cleaning, I thought I would help out by making us lunch.” He smiled, closing his eyes with an expression that spoke of how proud he was of himself, “I made us girl dinner for lunch all on my own!”

Yuu opened their mouth, poised to correct the housewarden only for Jamil to appear behind her.

Jamil was gently yet insistently pushing Yuu away from the doorway, “You know I don't like you being in the kitchen while I cook.”

“You don't like anyone being in the kitchen when you cook. But, Jamil, look! Kalim made things…”

Looking at the table in silence, Jamil surveyed the dishes before turning to Kalim with a look of disappointment, “You know you're not supposed to open doors to let people inside.”

“I? I didn't order this? I made it!”

Jamil pointed to the table, brows furrowed and looking far too much like a frustrated mother, “You expect me to believe you made chicken tenders, by hand?”

Kalim opened his mouth but quickly closed it, looking to the side sheepishly, “I…ok, I didn't do that.” he gestured to the large fridge he was still standing by, “But Yuu had a bag of chicken tenders in her freezer that I put in the air fryer. I got the vegetables from a can and heated them up. And, I put three tablespoons of butter and garlic salt to taste in the instant potatoes.”

Yuu flitted their hands like an excited mother, smiling before pressing against Jamil to make sure he was listening to Kalim, “Tell him about the brownies. You said something about brownies.”

“Oh! Yeah. You had a container of brownies on your snack cart that were going out of date. So I was extra careful and cut them to make sandwiches with some ice cream I found.”

Kalim smiled, hands on his hips as he took his stance in pride again, “I made girl dinner all myself.”

“You didn't even make girl dinner, you just made dinner. Kalim! You cooked! All on your own!” Yuu rushed over, arms wrapping around his waist and lifting him up to spin him in the hug, “You cooked! I'm so proud of you!”

Laughing loudly, hugging Yuu back and nuzzling his head against her’s. He looks over, still smiling wide only to freeze and have his smile drop at seeing his friend’s expression, “...Jamil?”

The second Scarabia student was silent, staring at the table filled with food with a blank expression. His eyes seemed to scan every last dish on the table trying to find anything wrong. Possibly a visible flaw in the food or something to point to poisoning or poor preparation.

“...” Setting Kalim back down Yuu pats Jamil's chest, rolling her eyes and trying to help him to the table to sit, “He's just having a baby mental breakdown. Once he snaps out of it, he'll be just as proud. Let's eat!”

Jamil snapped back the second he bit into one of the tenders. He grabbed the platter, taking it back to the air fryer and placed half of them inside, “You put all of these in at once didn't you?”

“Yes? I put a lot in to make sure we'd have plenty to share!”

“Kalim, these weren't cooked properly…”

“Ah…My bad.”

Besides the small threat of salmonella poisoning, the rest of the day went peacefully. Both Yuu and Kalim tagged along as Jamil found more places to clean. They had managed to annoy him enough before they had even started the second load of laundry, tossing clothing and having a faux fashion show instead of folding, like Jamil had asked of them. So they were banished back to the lounge.

Jamil appeared again hours later, sighing and saying that all of Yuu's laundry was washed, dried, folded, and placed in their appropriate areas. He then plopped face-first into the nest, only moving enough to wrap an arm around Yuu's waist and groan that they were too messy to live alone. Prompting Kalim to once again offer to permanently house them not only in Scarabia, but his family's estate. An idea that was instantly vetoed on different fronts by the couple.

As the trio were just thinking of what to make for actual dinner, the front door opened. Lilia and Malleus entered the lounge, each pleasantly surprised to see their respective favorite Scarabia boy in the nest with Yuu.

Lilia lifted up a large carry bag with the logo of the Mostro Lounge, a smile on his face, “Good thing Floyd was in such a good mood today, he gave us extra on our order.”

Malleus was already in the nest, sharing a kiss with Yuu before tucking hair behind Jamil's ear to kiss his cheek, “Would you like to stay for dinner?”

Jamil didn't look up, but the tips of his ears had slowly turned red the second Malleus’s fingertips grazed across his cheek. Of any of them, he had yet to get used to Malleus’s almost spontaneous bouts of affection. He turned his head more into Yuu's thigh, praying it could hide the rosy tint of his cheeks, “We didn't have dinner plans yet, so…I don't see why not…”

Even after dinner, neither Scarabia boy was allowed to leave. The thought never crossed Kalim’s mind and Jamil was trapped under Malleus’s arm, the horned fae being more affectionate as an apology for threatening him on Monday. Lying between his two warmer-blooded lovers, arms locked around their waists to hold them close in a cuddle. Kalim and Lilia were crowded close, the two vibing to the low music from Kalim’s phone and drifting off to sleep.

Yuu hummed, nuzzling into Malleus’s chest, “This is nice…we should invite Azul to cuddle with us.”

Jamil reaches a hand up, eyes still closed as he presses a finger to Yuu's lips in a silent motion to be quiet, “Let's not traumatize him any more than he has been…”

Malleus frowns at Jamil, pouting as Lilia snickers, “I already apologized for scaring you both during our talk yesterday and Monday.”

“Also, why is me asking him to come cuddle a cause for fear?”

Opening his eyes, sighing and lifting his head from Malleus’s chest to raise an eyebrow, “You've noticed how he's almost going out his way to avoid being around you?”

Yuu shrugged, pouting and pressing her cheek harder against Malleus, “I just thought he was busy…”

Malleus looked to the side, remembering how squeamish and withdrawn the Octavinelle student was when discussing Yuu's period, “He was very…frightened the last I saw him. Your period seems to be a factor of intimidation for him.”

“Female caecilians are aggressive during mating season, enough so that they could potentially kill the male trying to mate with them.” Jamil groaned, rolling his eyes remembering the day's long talk he was magically spawned into, “It was why he nearly agreed with Malleus to jump-start your pregnancy vow…”

“I still believe I'm justified in my stance. Azul would also have nothing to fear if Yuu was already pregnant.”

“Malleus, we’ve talked about this, my period can still happen if I’m pregnant-”

Jamil snapped to glare at Yuu, “I’m sorry, what-”

 Yuu smiled, a hand moving to pat Jamil’s face to ‘calm’ him, “Anyway, since we’re talking about stuff that no one wants to talk about, what’s this about you almost killing Leona?”

“...” Malleus blinked, quirking his lip as he looked off to the side, clearly showing his disinterest, “Kingscholar was…fine the last I saw him.”

“And when was that?”

“A few…days ago?”

Jamil’s hard stare shifted to Malleus, “Was that a question?”

“I don’t tend to think much, of Kingscholar.”

Yuu snickered, “Don’t you mean about?”

“I don’t see the difference.”

[wayfayrr]

So my friend and I r gonna race in totk in the sense of we mark a starting point in one corner of the map and then an ending point on the corner diagonal. We’re racing to see who can get there first, no cheats: sages, Rauru abilities, paragliding 95% of it…things like that, basically just running. I was curious about how long it’d take someone to get from one end to the other and he thought it’d be fun to race, so yeah. Would tears be mad that I’m only doing this bc of a friend? So like would he feel used? Would he just like r time together? But my friend is on call since we’re racing…

🐰

I don't think he'd be mad over it - most of the self aware boys are near impossible to make mad the most they get is a bit pouty

they are very delusional over you, so they'll excuse anything that they could possibly have set off their traditionally yan counterparts

however this does make them more dangerous in a way, yeah they're more lenient over things - when they're in the game. but when their patience wears down (or they get out) they're more likely to make a scene or demand your attention to be on them

as long as he's in the game - and you're playing it he's happy, he could be happier sure but he's happy

if he was out and you decided to call someone else over spending time with him it'd be very different

he doesn't take well to being ignored after getting out :c

I think it's more accurate if you were to convert the time you recorded with the in-game timer? cause a seven mile long hyrule means that hyrule is less than half the size of London lmao but if you were to average your times (39 in game hours) then hyrule has a diagonal of 273miles.... and it's a square so then it's side is abt 193 miles long so hyrule is apx 193square miles which - yeah it's still small but also it's not impossible for a country to be that size it'd put hyrule between palau and seychelles for square miles of land (does NOT mean that hyrules weather patterns make a lick of sense for a place that small tho lmao)

also I think it'd be funny that since he's running on real time now he feels like he's moving both super fast and super slow compared to hyrule :) he's the only thing running on real time - so he feels both like he's running at 70mph but the sun is rising and setting within 24 minutes. It fucks with him a bit - I mean, everything about being self aware fucks with the links

it's why they're so delusional <3 it's their coping mechanism

[territorial-tarot-tahr]

C.o.D smut that won the poll: Freak show

Word count: 10.5k

CW: Some descriptions of gore/violence but in more vague notions. Some psychological distress. There's a small bit of knotting in here but not in much detail. There's sexual content in this.

Summary: That one monster AU that everyone kinda knows and reader is a strigoi because I said so. Another one of y'all getting freaky in the shower except this time it's with a Scottish werewolf.

AFAB reader but no gendered names or terms

If you found my A03 from this, no you didn’t. Shut up.

There are no spoilers for any C.o.D games

🚨Go to my main account “rorschach-retrograding-rotary” for commissions or requests🚨

🚨This was not proof read and I hate reading my work so I have no intention of proof reading it🚨

Feel free to commission me or donate

𝕙𝕥𝕥𝕡𝕤://𝕜𝕠-𝕗𝕚.𝕔𝕠𝕞/𝕤𝕒𝕪_𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕤𝕖

It was quiet. The squeak of the ceiling fan above as well as the dull tune of his breathing provided the only audible ambience that you could hear at the moment. The light of the barracks was practically non-existent during the dead of night, though your senses had been dialed up to an obscene amount since your revival and as such, the room might as well have had the ceiling lights blasting on. Though you knew that the minute someone's turned on that light, you'd find yourself startled and writhing in disgust as the bulb's internal workings practically sparked and popped.

You hadn't been with Task Force 141 for long. You'd really only officially joined them a couple hours prior. Though you'd been in the military for a handful of years prior. In all honesty you'd been one of the antagonists of 141. Childish taunts that you should've outgrown and that you thought you might've, though when you'd initially run into the Task Force, you'd found you hadn't. Looking down your nose at the idea of having "a circus instead of soldiers". You'd left snide comments on a few notes in places you knew they'd be found. Made sure to talk loud enough for any passing member of the squad to hear exactly what kind of breed of freak you thought they were.

And those were the same people you had found yourself standing before as you were reassigned to the squad. All their gazes wandering over you as though scrutinizing every inch of your dull flesh. Each twitch of their eyes might've been a glare cast your way, and each whisper they spoke to one another could've been a remark about you. Retribution for all your time spent mocking them.

You didn't suspect they actually did indulge in spending their free time mocking you in secret, that'd be giving yourself too much credit. Instead, you guessed in reality they couldn't have cared less about "revenge". You figured they believed you being on the same squad was good enough karmic justice. Though you were sure you could find someone glaring at you if you tried hard enough.

It'd felt condescending enough to have Price put his hand on your shoulder when he'd shown you to your new sleeping quarters. A loose gesture with his other hand before he pointed at which bunk he suspected was empty as he suggested you get settled. His skin had been rough, as though his entire had was calloused from years of work. Though you know a quick glance would reveal the small repeating pattern that the tough scales on his flesh as the culprit.

He was warm. Earnestly and physically. Though for the latter, you suspected you'd have the same sentiment about anyone now considering your body no longer made its own heat. Couldn't even be bothered to pump its own blood. You were supposed to be making 2 million new blood cells every second according to a factoid you'd learned in a health class years back, though now you'd be relying on a steady supply from the base. And they had made it clear that this would serve as their collar for you.

"Behave or we starve you. And if you try to quell that gnawing hunger in your belly with a wild animal or another soldier, we will put you down like the monster you are." Or something like that.

In that moment when the medics had first shoved the small bag into your hands, a lot of repulsion twisting their faces into sneers, you'd found a dull shock wash over you. These were the same people you might've found yourself indulging in mockery with. Though they now regarded you with the same attempt at subtle disgust that you'd shared before.

It might've seemed a bigger deal to you later, but at the time you'd been in what you'd consider shock. Having clawed your way out of a coffin and six feet of dirt after sustaining a bullet wound to the head, stumbling your way back to your barracks out of habit and sitting on your bed with dried blood and mud coating your skin, you didn't think anything would've gotten much of a reaction from you at that point.

With no family to send your body to, they'd buried you in the base's cemetery. Just your luck that someone's stray had decided to come meandering along the base that same night. Just your luck that the cat had decided to slink its way into the cemetery and just your luck that the cat had decided to waltz over your grave, dooming you to return as a strigoi.

You'd tossed your duffle bag onto the cot, much to the protest of the springs which squealed like an iron pig in protest. Price had lingered a moment longer, asking again if you needed anything, and again you had shook your head. He'd nodded and walked out, and your eyes had traveled over the expanse of where his second wing should've been, drawing up images in you mind about what gruesome scar must've laid beneath his garments. A twisted show of scar tissue and scales that would never heal. You'd brushed your palm through your hair again as you imagined what kind of eyesore-

And then you found yourself feeling sick. Mouth pulled into a tight line as your hand brushed against your own mark, the bullet wound that would never heal. Your mouth tasted like dirt and you were sure you could smell the cedar of your coffin again. Your nails were bleeding, worn down to nothing and tearing through your skin as you dug frantically at the lid of your coffin. You'd sat there, still as a statue for practically a half hour till another member of the force had walked in and bumped into one of the beds by accident, getting your attention.

Your gaze had quickly snapped to him. The Scotts-man of your group, and who you and many others had degradingly called "the mutt" whenever you were tossing insults around. Despite only seeing him in passing for mere glimpses at a time, you'd always describing him as "a slobbering dog of a human". "A twitching and snarling hound that should've been put down already." He'd been one of the first members of the squad that you heard people talk badly about, with most of the stories about him either painting him like a stupid Chihuahua or a rabid beast that was a threat to anyone on any given day. And despite those polar opposites, you'd begun spreading those stories as well despite never even meeting the guy. You grimaced now as those memories ran like a checklist in your mind.

You locked eyes with the man and in all honesty, he didn't seem like the flea-ridden mutt you'd described and heard him be described as. His posture was a slight slouch and you were almost certain you could smell mud on him, but besides that, you couldn't find anything inherently mutt-like about him.

Well, maybe the shaggy quality his hair had to it. Clumped together in patches but also eager to fall aside string by string in others. Maybe the way he seemed to sporadically tense as he stared at you as though expecting some kind of attack because of the eye contact. Maybe the way he seemed to keep taking small huffs of the air as if trying to catch your scent and catalogue it. You would've expected you smelled like a rotting corpse. A shambling zombie or necrotic flesh and decomposing muscle, but he almost seemed to not care or be unsurprised by your scent as he didn't react.

Maybe you smelled like nothing at all and that was where the small twitch of his brow as he tensed his jaw came from. "Here's someone I can't prepare for if they're coming into a room. I can't wave my hand to hush my friends if we're all shit talking them and they're about to waltz in. I won't be able to pick up their footsteps since for some reason they're quiet as a mouse, and now I can't get a scent to get forewarning on their arrival at any given time. Great, just great."

Or at least that was what you assumed his inner dialogue was. You couldn't be sure. For all you knew, he could've been thinking about the time he bit a kid and was pondering about if he was more pitbull or terrier like because of it.

He was staring back at you too, not particularly wide-eyed but with a face that seemed nonplussed but not disinterested about your appearance in thee barracks. You wouldn't say he was easy on the eyes but it certainly hasn't been a chore to hold his eye contact. He shot you a quick wave, a short moment of his time before rummaging around in his small bedside drawer, fishing something out and then leaving without another word. You weren't even worth a proper hello or goodbye to your new squad. Though you supposed that was fair, you hadn't exactly been subtle with your shit-talking and you didn't imagine anyone on that squad had been jazzed to get the news that a person who spent most of their time spewing mild hate speech would be happy to know they'd be expected to watch that person's back and work with them more. Especially not the member that you had claimed had fleas. While he hadn't been a particularly comforting presence, it had made the taste of dirt leave your mouth, and had given time for you to collect your thoughts.

As you lay in your bed at the moment, you again tasted the dirt in your mouth and felt the ache of your fingers, whittled down to raw muscle and only from a job halfway done. You grunted to yourself before rolling over in your cot, sending the now familiar screech of the springs into a performance which soon found an encore when you rolled back over anyways.

Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.

You acclaimed your new found insomnia to your status as a Strigoi. A seemingly bottomless well of energy and a brain that refused to quiet down. The aforementioned darkness of the room still seemed as though illuminated by an overhead fixture. Though still in shades of blues despite the clarity. The acute awareness that your ears provided also seemed to be a large factor in preventing you from catching a wink of sleep or even relaxing. The shrill chirp of crickets now seemed like the climax of a performance from a string band. The hushed breaths of your companions, dampened by pillows and cloth now sounded as a cacophony of crashing waves that assaulted your senses. The small squeaks of springs from your squadmates rolling over or re-situtating now screeched like a bird.

Rather than focusing on the auditory input you were being overwhelmed with, and since visual wasn't much fun, you began trying to focus on the scents that you were practically swimming in thanks to the strange nature of your barrack's companions.

Sulfur, the rancid smell of rotting eggs that made you scrunch your nose. The soft tone of his breathing made his inhales barely audible, but his exhales still filled your ears as if he'd revved a motorcycle. If not for that, you might've thought him dead, and you supposed there was some truth to that. He wasn't exactly alive either. And it seemed selfish to try and compare yourself to him or say you were in the same boat. But you'd never had a conversation with him or even really knew what he was like, so that was all the kinship you could claim to your new "task force friend". He was a lingering echo of what he must've once been. And while he was away on a mission at the moment, you found it as a true testament to his sheer oddity that the scent was just as pungent as if he had been there.

Feathers. A mildly earthy scent that was almost overwhelmed by the prior one, but still held it's ground and filled your senses. His breathing was far more audible, though he wasn't snoring. Less shrill than a whistle but louder than a pan flute. You'd seen him preening the feathers of his wings before you'd been on the Task Force. Varying sizes and of different speckled patterns that drew your mind the Ship of Theseus. How many times had he plucked broken or bent feathers from his back and watched them pile into a small mountain of tawny keratin at his feet? Did it hurt? Simply being alive meant having to hurt yourself in order to keep yourself in working condition?

Smoke. A deep rumble accompanied it and despite the fact that you knew he was farther away, the smell of charcoal still practically burned your nostrils. The warmth from his hands still seemed to burn on your cold skin and you wished you might feel that kind of scorching heat grace your frozen body again. A walking furnace of man with a body covered in scars. You'd heard people refer to scars as paintings of someone's past before, and it left you to wonder how he could still find it in his heart to give his sympathies and patience to what used to be a smart-mouthed brat, turned crying and skittish monster who he got stuck with. All those years of suffering, and you still felt that the greatest comfort you could ever experience might be a simple hug as you let his warmth warm your weary bones.

A lingering smell of wet fur was the now overwhelming scent that washed over you, all encompassing now that you'd properly noticed it. Wet dog. Moist canine. Damp wolf.

What?

Ew.

Nothing dissimilar to Simon, you supposed. Though Simon had a natural smell that tended to linger. This just seemed overwhelming even considering the encounters with the musk you'd had before.

A childhood friend with a dog, much too eager to show off it's fresh smelling coat after a bath.

With that, you grew sickened and simply held your nose shut, opening your mouth a few moments later before finding that the burn of carbon dioxide in your lungs hadn't appeared. What? Were you breathing just because you wanted to instead of necessity now? Filling your shriveling lungs with oxygen that they didn't need? Another mark of your loss of humanity to sit as some inhuman marking upon your very soul and being?

You shook those thoughts from your mind and attempted to focus on the coarse fabric of your blanket. Though what seemed to stick out to you more, was the sensation of how cold you were despite it. A shiver in your bones and a chill on your flesh no matter how tightly you wrapped the cloth around yourself and a realization that didn't seem eager to go away now that you'd noticed it.

A frostbitten ache in your limbs that refused cure or amputation. A clawing and fighting chill that ate and slashed at your flesh till you felt it's influence in your entire body. Frozen flesh that refused to thaw. You wondered if Price had registered the chill in your flesh when her touched you, feeling as though he was patting a cadaver on the shoulder instead of his new ward. How would this freshly walking corpse get along with his array of other oddities?

You grunted and realized the futility of trying to ignore the ache now that it was at the forefront of your mind. It wasn't as though you could drag yourself to your Captain's quarters, knock on the door and give a sheepish "can I sleep with you tonight?" Before being welcomed in with open arms and a warm body. Not happening. Dishonorable discharge wasn't completely off the table even if you insisted that you hadn't decided to do the "horizontal tango" with your Captain who would presumably be blacklisted.

So what could you do instead?

A warm place or thing that wouldn't disturb others? Locker room or shower. In the shower you at least had the excess steam as well to seep into your weary bones and eat away at some of the fatigue as well. It didn't sound like a half-bad idea, and you didn't suspect you'd find much reprimand for it if you managed to keep quiet enough to avoid disrupting the other's rest.

You sat up and swung your legs over the side of the cot without a second thought. At the very least, even if the plans didn't work, you'd have something to do to occupy yourself till the sun decided to rear it's shiny mug over the cusp of the horizon.

It was much harder for external weather to actually make you feel something now, and you found that fact highlighted as you walked into the embrace of the night, hearing the crunch of frost covered leaves and blades of grass beneath your feet but not feeling the slightest chill on your skin. You had the chill of a corpse, and the chill of the weather couldn't find enough strength to overcome or change your already frigid body. You hadn't noticed it during the days as most of your time was spent walking around in a shell-shocked stupor as they pointed you here and there, signing this and that, but you suspected you had most likely been feeling this aching chill for the entire day and just simply hasn't noticed or hadn't had time to notice. And now that you had spent your couple of minutes with only your thoughts, you found that you were already too cold to freeze further. Great

If the same principle applied during the summer, you didn't think trips to the beach would be worth having anymore.

What would be the point of sitting outside on a warm day and having a picnic or something, either? What about being bundled up on the couch after a chilly walk to the store left you with a chilled face that your partner would warm up with chaste kisses and an hour wrapped up in a blanket together?

Don't be so dramatic and stole moping, you don't even know that yet. The burning warmth that had enveloped the flesh on your shoulder practically crackled as you remembered your Captain's hand.

Alright, so you were "cold-blooded" in terms of your lifestyle then. So not all hope was lost.

Your shoes, sloppily tossed in with lases undone, crunches again against the frosted grass as you stalked forward. You reached forward to grasp the handle and push in the door as you slinked into the building. You were surprised that it was left unlocked, but you certainly weren't disappointed.

You continued on your search, trekking through the base to make your way to the showers and find whoever seemed to be in such distress. The base was practically a maze of concrete walls and smooth hallway floors, and if your time before, you had often found yourself as the victim of a bad sense of direction. Wandering and trudging down the halls with no clear sense of direction or understanding where it was that you were.

Now though, despite the increase in your senses, you still found yourself too confused by the overwhelming twists and turns that if asked to retrace your steps, it'd still take you longer than the average person to get to it. But less time than your prior year. You might actually get to the showers before the sun rose. Good job.

A disgruntled growl left your throat before you registered the sound and you found your brows scrunching together as you continued your walk. Ew. Don't do that again.

With one final turn you were met with the off-white tiles of the locker room floor, and your reflection after you took a few more steps in. The long line of mirrors above the sink to your left sat tantalizing as you gave yourself a quick once over. Your hair wasn't matted with blood-moistened dirt and speckled with wood chips, both from your feverish clawing. Your face was gaunt, discoloured in some areas from bruises that would never clear as well as whatever ugly wounds you'd managed to open on your liberation for the grave. Your wounds were sewed up with medical thread but you were well aware the flesh would never scab and heal.

You watched your face contort as you gritted your teeth and glared at the visage staring back at you in the pristine mirror. Your exhale hit the mirror and you watched the surface neglect to fog. Your corpse breath instead disappearing without a trace as you inhaled and pushed your hair from your face before spinning a 180° and making your way to the flimsy curtains of the showers. Your shirt slipped off first, tossed to the side in a crumpled pile before being followed by your pajama pants and other miscellaneous garments before you pulled the flimsy, opaque plastic of the curtain back as you stepped in. Your nails traced the notch on the turning cog that indicated "heat" before abruptly yanking it on.

For a moment or two you felt nothing more than the brisk chill you had felt before and you wondered if you'd been wrong and your second of heat with Price had been a fluke or some lady spasm of some muscles before they properly bit the dust. A loud cry of "Fuck!" Left your mouth as your buried your hands in your hair and gripped it roughly, your eyes glued to the floor and the trickle of water down your leg.

Though the water then seemed to warm up and you stood in awkward embarrassment, though you couldn't be sure why. It wasn't as though anyone had seen what you could only describe as an outburst. Though you moved your hands to your sides after a shallow cough as you felt the warmth begin to gradually work it's way through your flesh with the promise of further warmth to come as the nozzle began spitting a consistent stream onto your face.

Enveloping. All encompassing. A blanket of warmth that was wrapped tightly around you as you stood. Your spine straightened as you stood to your full height and placed your palms to the tiles and sighed in relief as the ache finally began to cease its assault on your flesh. You wished that you might spy dirt or muck leaving your visage, but instead you saw no grime leaving your form. There was nothing to be washed away and fixed. You felt keen to vomit but your stomach hadn't been filled with anything and as such you couldn't even find it in your body to cough up bile. With a groan, you moved your hands to run through your hair again, attempting to work out nonexistent knots and blocks of dirt, digging feverishly at your warming flesh as you attempted to rid yourself of the muck that seemed to hang on your skin.

You needed to be clean. You wanted desperately to be clean. You needed it. And yet your fingers came away with no grime, no flaws or blemished skin pieces to be fixed by medics or hopeful medics. Your nails dragged harder now. Moving from your hair and scalp to your neck as you felt your throat flutter with your gradually fluttering breaths. Your collar bone was next as your fingers worked harder, dragging your nails though your dead flesh neglected to form bright red streaks across your skin.

Stupid fucking cat. You could've been resting in a grave. You could've had whatever rest you were owed as you rotted and let the maggots and bugs eat away at your coffin till they had free reign of your corpse to consume.

But no. Instead you'd been dragged from whatever peace you'd found. Ripped from the ground in a frantic spit of earth and blood, brought to be puppeteered till your duty was done.

But your job would not be finished soon. The design of whatever cruel fate that demanded you work till your body collapsed as bullets nestled into your skin, stitching threads working through your ruined flesh in a desperate attempt to hold yourself together, wishing and fighting to continue your walks in rotting legs. A member of a traveling circus that for some reason refused to put down their suffering animals.

Your eyes watered, your hands shaking as you gradually slowed your assault on your body as you watched the small strips of flesh begin to fall away in the swirling water of the drain. These wouldn't heal. And if your "tantrum" didn't stop, you would find yourself dragged into some kind of straight jacket or given some stupid mittens in order to ensure you didn't damage yourself. Their "merchandise", their weapon. Their property now in all honesty. And they wouldn't allow you to become damaged goods. If you weren't their weapon, you wouldn't find any other place to call home because of your newly unnatural nature.

This was your reality and you needed to get used to living in it. With a trembling inhale, you seemed to regain your composure even if only externally. The water continued licking its warm tongue across your body like a feverish cat as you allowed it to continue it's work. Relaxation. If you couldn't get it any other way, you didn't care.

With your mind now slowing less from the speedy sprint they'd managed to work themselves into, you began to acknowledge the push of your senses as your awareness began to seep back into the environment. The huff of the ac and ventilation farther in the locker room, the sound of water dripping down the drain and churning in the pipes below.

Using your hand to shield your face from the water, you turned to the side and placed your back against the condensation slicked tiles as you sat down on the floor. When had it been cleaned later? Who knows, but you didn't think you could find it in your heart to care. While you weren't sure if it was actual sleep or not, a rush of fatigue seemed to finally settle over you, encouraging you to lay your head on your crossed arms and sit till someone comes along. The shower was snug. It was warm and the sounds you could hear all seemed to fit together in a way that allowed you to slip the back of your mind as unimportant in the moment.

Sitting with your arms on your bent knees and your face bruised in their warming flesh, you couldn't be sure how long you'd stayed there. But every peaceful second was practically a god-sent as you allowed yourself to fall away from the real world and all it's incessant nagging for attention. You were almost certain you'd get used to it eventually, learn to tune out all the extra noise. But for now this was what you wanted. This floating away into an empty mind, not asleep, but not well aware of your surroundings. The sound of impact from the water on the ground wormed it's way into your mind and blanketed the other chitters and chirps as you began to focus on solely it.

~

You weren't sure how long your peace lasted, but when you opened your wet eyelids and blinked away the droplets that hung frantically off your lashes in an attempt to save themselves from the drain, you realized you weren't alone anymore.

The sound of someone walking filled your ears as it grew gradually in volume. Someone approaching. They weren't going at a particularly leisurely pace either. They were walking like they had somewhere to be, alright. You wagered that they were simply going to pass the locker and shower room, maybe move to the next hallway and settle some late night grievance with a higher up. Whatever it was, you expected to slip back into your dull state after the few seconds of interruption, but instead you heard the door to the locker room swing open, slamming into the wall. The crack and splinter of tile alongside the door screamed in your ears and you scrambled to your feet, practically slipping on the well-soaked floor.

You'd snapped the handle for the water as the dying echoes of the door faded, quickly jamming it into the position that choked the water from its pipes and made the coiled snake of metal fall quiet as you waited with baited breath to see what the newly arrived individual might want.

Had some hearing been made to put you down? That's why the brute-force creature had appeared here? Had you missed your chance to plead for your own life and defend your right to take up "3 hots and a cot" on the base? You weren't the first one misfortunate enough to end up with your undead fate, infact, base had even given you a briefing on the ways you could find yourself falling and not getting back up. An uncomfortable creeping silence and pricking along the back of your neck as you heard the thudding heartbeats of the guards who had been positioned to ensure you couldn't escape the room easily. As though you were already a threat. A silver stake through the heart was the main one that had gone to your mind. Direct sunlight could be worked around with the use of different full body garb. Decapitation and burning carried over though as deaths. But considering those were things you were used to trying to avoid, you hadn't seen it as a big change.

So what? They'd sent someone into the shower's with a silver stake to drive through your heart? There wouldn't be much to clean up considering your lack of blood, but the shower still did seem like the natural decision for a murder. Here you were, exposed and vulnerable with no real source of traction considering the puddle at your feet.

You had little intention of going down without a fight if they were, and the sound of the footsteps picking up again as solid thuds with determination didn't inspire confidence, but it did invite challenge. A snark bubbled at the back of your throat, but before you could vocalize it, you grew embarrassed of the sound and quickly quieted yourself preemptively.

You watched the blurry figure of the person through the opaque shower curtain as they paused in their movements before stilling completely and you watched with baited breath for what they would do. They had yet to actually move against you. Their interest didn't seem to be with you.

Were you being paranoid?

Gross.

Maybe?

You turn into a freak and all of a sudden you think the world revolves around you.

What?

Nothing.

With a cautious step forward, you gripped the edge of the curtain and sheepishly tugged it back a few inches to see who had entered the room. The curtain rings glided quietly against the bar and you gnawed on your lip in anticipation as you tried to keep your knees from locking.

A shaggy stripe of brown hair on what was otherwise a buzz cut, baggy sweatpants and a sweat-soaked tank top. Tanned skin coated with discolored scars rippling and heaving as he you watched him lean forward and press his forehead to the presumably cold mirror. His back which was to you, was heaving and you heard the forceful gale of each exhale that slapped against the reflective surface of the mirror.

Oh. What's the Scotts-man doing?

You furrowed your brows and thought back to the glimpses of moonlight you'd seen through the clouds. It hadn't been full from what you could remember and despite your little interaction with him, you didn't wager he was about to inadvertently show off his "Jacob Black" impression.

Don't say that again.

Sorry.

Benefit of the doubt: Maybe he just had to piss and he'd somehow managed to catch you at your most paranoid so now here you were villainizing him when his only crime was like, drinking too much water.

Dumbass.

Maybe if he hadn't-

The overwhelming smell returned. Wet fur and warm breath, a mixture of fresh-out-of-the-shower smell and sweat tied together with a bow of dog's breath. His heartbeat slammed and echoed in your ears like a set of taiko drummers who'd decided you needed a private performance. There was a sickly scent you didn't recognize interlaced with the other pungent smells. Like he'd lathered himself in perfume or cologne of some kind and now he stood red-faced in the mirror as he choked on his own smell.

The sweat on the back had soaked through his shirt and you watched the wet fabric cling to him like a second skin as he swiped his hand over his face to try and clear some of his sweat which he promptly wiped across his sweatpants. Though as the fabric shifted, you watched his face contort in anguish as if about to start crying to add more salt to the already slicked canvas of his visage. His muscles tensed again, pulling tight the cover of his skin and you wondered if he was about to spasm and vomit.

Your fingers found the curtain again and you prepared to pull it shut, though the shriek of the rings now seemed eager to speak up as it became stupidly obvious that you were in the room with him too. Your gaze had been locked onto the rings, as if glaring at them might somehow make them revoke their sound and let you continue going unnoticed. Though when you turned your gaze back to him, you found that your chances of that weren't looking all too friendly at the moment.

Honestly he looked near the point of being blackout drunk, but the alertness in his dull-y bloodshot eyes gave too much evidence to something else. His chest was heaving, and each breath was enough to spark your mind's cruel humor and summon up images of the three pigs and the Big Bad Wolf giving his assault on their homes.

You let go of the curtain and were ready to give a shallow wave out of curtsey, but were cut off by his commanding, if not a bit fatigued voice.

"Sorry, didn't realize anyone else was n 'ere." He forced a friendly smirk to his lips, but his weary eyes broke the illusion of a chipper attitude despite his best tries. You stood still as a statue, your mouth pulled into a fine line as you watched him await a response, fingers tensed against the rim of the basin, and the veins across his body pressed to a visible position as if he was flexing. Your tongue felt dry, but after another beat you seemed to remembered you hadn't spoken yet so you forced the same cautious smirk and responded.

"Are you," Vomiting? In need of assistance? About to drop dead? "alright?"

The sound of your own voice felt pathetic and you became acutely aware that really all that was helping you retain your modesty at the moment was a shower curtain. But your clothes were clothes to him that you, so your options were to either burden the clearly already ailed teammate with a favor, wait for him to leave, or waltz over to the bench and act like you weren't practically airdrying yourself on the walk over.

He wiped his mouth again in a style that brought to mind and alcoholic wiping his lips from habit. His fingertips came away wet with sweat again and you watched him swipe it now against his side, as he kept his hips angled to keep the majority of his front out of your view.

"Yeah, right as rain. 'ealthy as a 'orse." His smile was forced, a lopsided grin now as he overcompensated in spite of whatever was ailing him.

Pretend that you believed his fairly pathetic performance or push harder and try to help with whatever it was?

"What abou't yerself? Most peopl' ain't jumpin' to try and go shower right at the arse crack of dawn."

Deflecting probably. Get his mind off of whatever was bothering him in the first place by listening to your troubles instead? You wouldn't bet your life on it but it seemed like something you'd probably have done a couple times in your life. Some small part of you screamed to be embarrassed about your reasoning and cited it's stupidity.

Shut up and lie. Say something cool. Turn it back to him.

"I was cold."

Lame.

"Cold?" He repeated. His eyebrow was raised and you watched the sweat drip down the curve of his scrunched temple as he fidgeted where he stood. You seemed to forget you were expected to respond now, too enveloped in his skittish behavior now as you watched his hands begin to rub lines around the ring of his wrist. You blinked like a dumbfounded kitten before noticing his half-way expectant expression seemed to get you out of your stupor as you nodded.

"Yeah. I just- I don't think I make my own body heat anymore. So I was just-" You trailed off as you watched him twitch again, a half-hearted gesture as though twisting the handle of the shower properly ended your response.

"What about you? You said you're 'healthy as a horse', so why're you up and sweating like a sinner in church?" You sounded snarky, more so than you'd meant to. And in all honesty you supposed it was as if you'd forgotten who you were for a moment. You were no longer the person who spread gossip, rumors or nasty remarks about the 141. You didn't have any right to claim the squad as being freaks while ignoring the oversized canines in your mouth. And yet here you were, starting up an accusatory attempt at embarrassing him, choking information he wasn't keen on giving, even though you were standing stark naked behind a shower curtain and starting to tremble like a leaf.

Despite the obviously flushed nature of his face, you could've sworn he blanched at your question, as though he already expected you'd have somehow forgotten. You watched his lip pull back in an uneasy sneer, allowing you to see his own set of gnarled and oversized teeth. His pink gums were overcrowded with the pale white curves of his "maw" and it sunk in for a moment, how genuinely screwed you would've been if he had bitten you when you were alive. He could've taken a chunk from your shoulder, nearly half your neck, whatever he wanted.

You'd mocked him before in rumor for doglike qualities without even having seen these, and you were sure he could hear some of the comments considering you said then in front of him the majority of the time. One flash of his teeth and you'd have snapped your mouth shut, and you were sure he knew it. And yet he'd only ever met your remarks with apathy or a sarcastic smirk. As much as you wanted to believe that it had been out of politeness and control of his temper (and you wouldn't pretend some amount hadn't been) you were now aware some of the restrictions placed on 141. You were too be detained or reprimanded if you showed violent tendencies or behavior, and you'd already been issues a warning when you'd accidentally spaced out, your gaze happening to linger on a nurse and her neck. You could only imagine what kind of reprimand he'd had been given for snarling or simply acting aggressive. And you knew in your heart-of-hearts that if he had, you'd have been the first one scampering off to your higher up to demand he be taken off his squad and put down like a mutt.

You'd grimaced at the thought at the prior actions you wished you could distance yourself from, yet this was still in fairly recent memory. This was still who you were wasn't it?

You seemed to be fished out from your wandering mind as he began to speak, and while he had ceased touching his own wrists and flesh, either out of wishful appearances of having everything under control, or a rush of embarrassment at the habit, it was still clear that he wished he hadn't. He started the statement with an almost sarcastic laugh.

"Figure yer about the only one on the squad who doesn' know, so better yuh hear 't straight from the horses mouth 'nstead of from one of those gossipin' lassies yuh always hang around. Don't need that pretty face of yours sneerin' at me anymore than it has already, 'specially if it's over somethin' untrue or blown out 'f proportion."

Used to hang around with. Don't think they'd much like to even be in the same room as me now. But you couldn't find any courage to even speak the rebuttal. You didn't have to right to separate yourself from that life yet. It'd be done for you in time if you really did clean up your act.

Now it was his time to be overtly embarrassed, though it was clear he was trying to be cordial. Considering you were the one naked in the shower, you weren't sure how embarrassing this would have to be.

"Canines as a whole got their matin' seasons, yeah? I ain't a full blown dog or nothin' but every now 'nd then-" He trailed off and made a gesture with his hand that you couldn't decipher the nature of.

"'nitially, they jus' tossed some meds my way 'nd called 't a day. But the meds toned everythin' down. Made me sluggish. Delayed reactions 'nd all that. So rather than riskin' my capacity as a soldier 'n case I ever needed to be deployed while drugged, I started-" His face was practically beet red now, you were about to say he didn't need to explain further if it was too embarrassing but he opened his mouth first.

"-gettin' that extra energy 'ut with someone else. That worked better. Ain't an air tight system but it seemed a good alternative. As 'pposed to a full week of bein' drugged up and loopey, it's jus' losing me and my.....helper for 24 hours, and then check up after the time's up. 'm usually fine after that. Maybe a bit headstrong or- I don't know, I guess protective 's a good word for 't? 'm a bit protective 'f my helper but it's nothin' too bad."

He rubbed his eyes, and though you suspected he didn't have anything wrong with his ocular region, he still continued rubbing while he spoke.

"I got one designated 'elper cause with 'im it's a guarantee that there ain't any threat of actually concevin' somethin'. He's out doin' something for this week. Normally it ain't an issue 'cause they're pretty good on 'nsurin' he's never out when it's 'round my time. But they needed him, so I got the short end of the stick. Yuh happened to catch me killin' time before meds happened to scamper over to shove some pills in my face."

The silence that filled the room left an uncomfortable prickle along your spine as you stared at him. The smell of wet dog was still pungent in the room, and though it was nearly overwhelming, you could detect the slightest hint of sulfur mixed in with it.

Sulfur?

Oh.

Now that you looked him over, under a scrutinizing stare, his pants did seem a big bigger around the hips than what fit him, the drawstring tied tightly to ensure they stayed up. You'd have bet your dignity and what life you had, that those weren't his.

Alright. It made sense you guessed. A literal dead dude wasn't exactly prime breeding material so it stood to reason that the base wouldn't be waiting with baited breath and terror about it.

You nodded in cautious acknowledgment, unsure of what else to do. You didn't really have any secrets or burdens to share with him in return. And although you did care about his opinion of you, you cared more about staying warm. So with a cautious gesture behind you, you motioned as if turning the spigot, and you watched him cycle through confusion, disappointment and acceptance in a split second before waving a thumbs up at you and turning around as though about to wash his hands.

As you snapped the water back on and felt the flood of warm water splash over you again, you attempted to drown out the scent of him. What else were you supposed to do? It wasn't like you could make Ghost magically pop over here. And for a few minutes, you stood in the water stream trying to ignore the information he'd just tossed your way. He really was a dog, huh? Just some mutt in heat that needed another stray dog to whimper and bark as-

Stop. That's not who you are anymore. Cut it out. He didn't chose that life anymore than you chose to be shivering and trembling under a stream of water because you're too pathetic to make your own body heat.

You heard the hiss of the shower curtain beside you snap open and the howl of water as he bathed himself in the embrace of the stream. You slumped down again, your back against the tile as you stared at the adjacent wall with dull eyes as you attempted to fall back into the half-sleep you'd found yourself in earlier.

And for a while, that's what you got. Though instead of continued peace, you were met with the smell of sweat. The sound of coughing breaths and grunts that led you to understand almost immediately what your shower companion was up to.

Leave. Give him privacy.

And yet after you pushed yourself to your feet, standing in the puddle of splashing water, you realized you didn't really want to. So instead you stood for a few minutes, listening to the sound of his choked breathing as he attempted to keep himself quiet and drown out his sounds with the chorus of the water.

"Do you want me to help?"

What? Why the hell did you say that? What's wrong with you? Okay so take the statement back. Cover it up with a cough.

"What?"

Say nothing, say you sneezed, say something else. Back out.

"I mean, I know I'm not a wraith, but I am dead. So- I mean I don't think the base would have any reason to worry about- y'know conceiving something."

....I hate you.

"I ain't looking to force you, and I didn't tell yuh all that stuff to get yuh to pity me enough to offer-"

"You're not. You didn't. I'm- look I'm genuinely offering. If you don't want to, that's alright. I'm just putting it out there."

You swallowed hard as you waited for his response. Silence hung like a heavy cloud, the splash of water on the tiles provided the only audible stimulation, and you were sure he'd stopped breathing considering you couldn't hear the slightest peep on his end. Great job. You screwed up and now your squad mate thought you were a weirdo who was so desperate to get fucked that they were exploiting their suffering teammate. Might as well try to resign, though you doubted they'd even let-

"Alright." He sounded less reluctant, and instead more cautious. He began breathing again, shallow pin pricks of air as you heard him grunt and resituate, then the sound of skin on tile as he presumably leaned against the wall, giving you room to squeeze into the shower stall with him. You tugged your curtain to the side, the familiar hiss sounding out as you walked the few steps to his, watching his fidgeting silhouette through the opaque curtain before you eventually stepping into his.

It wasn't that he was particularly tall, but now as he turned his head to the side to avoid meeting what he assumed would be an accusatory gaze, his craned neck made him appear as though he might've easily dwarfed you in size. That and his squared shoulders and well-kept physique. He'd seemed embarrassed in your conversation but now his lack of eye contact seemed more as his attempt at giving you time to rethink your decision without the pressure of his eyes boring into your skull.

The water that he had spraying out was noticably colder than the water of your choice. But then again, you could feels the heat practically radiating off him, and you suspected he was similar to Price in that regard. Though from a different root cause.

You felt yourself resisting the urge to begin squirming in discomfort, though you were insistent on not making a fool of yourself. Your gaze traveled over him as though sizing up a foe, though you stopped changing your focus after your eyes landed on his groin. You'd been watching his chest rise and fall with each uncertain breath, that had drawn your attention to the thin trail of hair down his chest all the way to the thatch of hair below his navel, where your gaze had landed on his cock.

You didn't consider yourself promiscuous by nature, but you weren't a virgin, it wasn't as though this was your first time seeing a dick, but you would say this was the first time you'd felt intimidated. You wouldn't have been caught raving about the size, but you did feel your mouth go dry. There were a few veins visible even from where you stood now, and the flushed red tip did not go unnoticed either. But the swollen knot at the base drew your attention as you furrowed your brows. Even if you did help with some, you weren't sure that would ever fit. It was already practically coated in pre-cum and you could only imagine how long he'd spent fussing in his cot with his face buried in Simon's slacks as he attempted to pretend that the garment signaled Simon's actual presence.

You saw him cast a quick glance over your face as though attempting to gauge your reaction without seeming too obvious or without seeming like he was demanding one.

Here goes nothing?

Your movements were sluggish, now giving him plenty of time to back out of your deal if he so chose, but seeing as he remained almost statuesque in movement level and pose, you assumed he was alright with your opening. Without thinking too deeply, you brought your palm forward to lay against the underside of his cock as it stood erect.

"Yer colder than I was expectin'." He finished his statement with a chuckle as though he somehow hadn't understood the extent of what you meant when you'd been claiming to need the water to warm you up.

You gave a hum of acknowledgement before closing your fingers around the length of his shaft, your thumb pressed against his leaking cock-head as you watched him twitch. Unwilling to seem any more discomforted than he already had, and yet he was fighting a losing battle as you watched his Adam's apple bob before rubbing his eyes as he had before.

You watched him reach to his side and turn the nozzle to turn the water warmer, for his own enjoyment as much as yours as he watched your muscles relax in the welcoming embrace of the heated spray. He swallowed again as your fingers squeezed gently, sliding them down to the base where you proceeded to hear him give a hiss of an inhale as he gritted his teeth at the agitation of the sensitive spot. With a few moments pause, you trace your thumb along his cock-head again before standing up straight and kissing the side of his neck. Leaving a small bite mark on the tendon-pulled skin.

What you hadn't been expecting was his hands to suddenly find your shoulders and push you against the tiled wall behind you, dipping out of your bite before roughly pressing his lips to yours. You would bruise, you were sure of it. And just like the other few ones, you wouldn't heal. Some others you figured would be reminders of fights or blunt trauma but a bruise from being manhandled during sex? A permanent mark?

Fuck, it was too late to do anything about it now. You met his force with the same intensity, slamming yourself against him and yanking your hand along his cock in one swift jerk that made him whine into your mouth. His hands wandered, grabbing roughly at anything and everything he could sink his nails into, though he at least had the sense to not puncture your skin.

He pressed you tight against the wall and it surprised you that you hadn't heard the crack of tile or cement yet from how he kept amping up the force as he repeated the motion of pulling you closer to him before shoving you back against the wall. If he had a tail, you were sure it'd have been wagging and that certainly would've been a funny sight, though you would have to make due with the needy groans that he kept making anytime he removed his lips from yours to bite or lick at your neck.

One of his hands left the meat of your hip and moved to the back of your head, pushing you tight against his burning flesh, his heat leaving you in a similar bliss as Price's had. Though the moment of solace with your face pressed against his neck was lost as he shoved you against the wall again, this time the pressure hitting his own hand as though he'd realized that he shouldn't have been handling you so roughly. Though your theory was debunked as he used his other hand to flip you around so your back was to him and your chest was against the tile now.

The height difference ensured you felt his warm cock against the base of your back. Your breath left your mouth in short spurts as you felt him bite at your neck from behind now, before looking over the damage he'd already caused in terms of the scattered flecks of discolored skin. Though if he cared, he had a funny way of showing it seeing as how he promptly grabbed at your ass and hips and squeezed the flesh till you were sure he'd have drawn blood if you had any to shed.

You felt him still for a moment longer and waited switch baited breath for his next move, only to be flipped around again, though this time without the luxury of his hand blocking the shock. You felt him hoist you up with a grunt but little effort as though you weighed nothing, and you had little time to ask what he was doing before he slammed you down onto his cock with no warning.

It leaves you screaming wordlessly as you feel tears threaten the corners of your eyes as he grunts into your chest. You might've tried to pull yourself off if you'd found the strength to, but seeing as his grip was holding you in place, it seems fruitless anyways. Instead, you snapped your mouth shut and dug your nails into his shoulders as you leaned your head back against the tile and felt him begin pulling out and then ramming back into you as though he fancied himself to be a violent piston.

You grit your teeth and do your best to ignore the pain that tears through your body and leaves you gasping for breaths you don't need to take. You hook your legs over his hips and he greets that movement with tossing you up a few extra inches to leave himself barely in you before letting you drop back fully down on his cock as he moves his face to resume biting and licking at your chest and neck with vigor as he continued working you like an oversized fleshlight. The distinct shape of the knot occasionally bumping against you when he snapped his hips up to meet your jostling bobbing that you'd begun doing to avoid being completely man-handled.

You suspected Simon probably had an easier time with this shit considering you weren't even sure if he could bruise or feel pain. But you were his cheap replacement for the night, a chew toy for him to make due on. And fair, you'd offered yourself, and while a part of you wanted to recede your offer now, you found you couldn't will your lips to move nor your mouth to articulate anything besides a stifled moan, and you weren't sure you wanted more. Only around 24 hours right? You could bear to miss a day of P.T.

~

By the time you're done, everything hurts and you're left with a hormonal Scotts-man passed out beside you, snoring quietly as he holds you tightly. As the time began to come to an end, he'd seemed more fatigued than anything else, and his finale climax had been done with a whine. The next thing you remembered was waking up in his bunk in the barracks with him holding close against him as though he were a skittish child clinging desperately to a security blanket. The smell of wet fur and dog breath was all enveloping, but you found it didn't bother you as much this time, though you wouldn't soon be singing it's praise as a perfume.

The bunks are quiet and you don't suspect anyone is oblivious to the reason of your absence the day prior. And even if they were, the very obvious bruising in very, choice areas, were enough of a dead giveaway to any glance of scrutiny. But that was tomorrow's problem. At the moment, you focus on the sound of his breathing instead. The feeling of his chest rising and falling against your side and his occasional twitch as he dreams whatever his fucked out brain can think of. His breath is warm on your neck and the small bruises he left along your shoulders during his activities, and you wonder if you ever would've experienced this had you not dropped dead and been reborn.

You don't sing praise for your predicament or your death, but you raise a good question. If not for the bullet to your brain, you would've died only thinking about him as a slobbering mutt. A dog with violence and sex as the only thoughts that it's mind could possibly have the capacity to think of. You hadn't thought that honestly, but it wasn't far off. You'd thought him an unpredictable, liability who was crude in the best of circumstances and who pissed you off simply by being in the same room as you at the worst. What did you think of him now?

....in all honesty you weren't sure. But you now had a gnawing in your heart that left you eager to learn more about him. A sensation that left you trying to memorize the way his fingertips were drawing lazy circle around your hips despite his lack of consciousness. A sensation that left you turning on your side to play your back against his chest and try to mimic his breathing. A sensation that left you wanting to follow him around and simply watch his day to day behavior, asking questions about him and his habits as he went along. Now that he'd already fucked you senseless once, you could get to know him. Ironic.

The warmth radiating off him is what draws your attention more. As though cuddled in the arms of your lover on a cold winter day next to a roaring fire after a frostbitten walk. And though you knew in a few days he'd be back hanging around Simon and spending his tussling with the wraith, you found comfort in this night. And though you couldn't find sleep despite your fatigue, you also found you didn't mind laying awake, held gently in the arms of a teammate. Even if they did have dog breath.

[moonsidesong]

finished UT Yellow pacifist ! i really really enjoyed it! i will definitely be going back for the other runs but i'd like to let this sit for at least a few days before i go back in.

extended thoughts below!! yaayay!!!!

ok im sorry to open with a negative thought but if i can be a little mean. ceroba's fight suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucks. visually its insanely cool, musically its insanely cool, the presentation overall rocks, but gameplay wise its the worst ive played so far bar none.

i think this game for the most part had pretty fun and interesting bullet patterns for the bosses and, especially in the case of Axis, El Bailador, and Guardener's fights, i really got the sense i was getting a little better each time as i memorized the attacks, which is exactly what i want from a UTDR boss fight! i heart memorization.

... but Ceroba's fight was the only one where i felt like the bullet patterns just had no rhyme or reason to them. i think using several simple attacks to make a layered complicated one is a good idea in theory but in the way they did it i kinda just felt like she was throwing random crap at me and when I did beat it (which took i think around an hour) i sorta just got the impression that i was lucky enough her RNG picked the easier ones a few extra turns in a row rather than feeling like i actually accomplished anything (anything with the gravity black hole added was just kind of a death sentence for me, maybe its a skill issue but i feel like yknow. im okaaayyy at bullet hell... wah...)

also, i dont know much about game design, but the overall momentum of the fight is set up to really only be good if you beat it the first time. which is not great. they make you watch a cutscene every time you die and although it is brief, it breaks things up just a little too long! you get really sick of hearing the first few notes of what are otherwise great songs in her fight, and it makes it harder to feel for her when watching her scream starts to become annoying. i think if it were up to me, it'd be best if when you died, there was no cutscene, and the game over screen didnt have music or text and was JUST the Retry/Continue prompts so you can jump back into the action quickly. if we wanna take it a step further, because the music opens with such intense notes, stop making it start over!!!! pick it up where it left off!!!! maybe even have the game over menu not even stop the music, just muffle it temporarily or something. i dont know. thats what id do if it were up to me but i did not make anything im just a guy writing a tumblr post

anyway hater hour over. i mentioned those three boss fights earlier because they were my favorites. i thought they were really fun. i can see how some people might think the shield mechanic during Axis's fight might suck but it was like easily my favorite actually HAHAHA idk i thought it was fuuuuun heehehe yaay i block the bullets and it makes a good sound sound makea me happy <- this is the hightest compliment you can get from a misophonic player

also the ending made me cry. this isnt saying much because literally everything makes me cry but it did in fact make me cry. u show me characters showing a moment of genuine vulnerability in a bittersweet atmosphere and uh oh

anyway.

i mentioned in my previous thought post that i was interested in seeing where the running theme of "jobs/employment" was going, and seeing it play out into meaning "forever unfinished business" was really good. Martlet quits the Royal Guard having felt like she never really did anything there, neither Chujin nor Ceroba could finish what they set out to do, and Clover never even saw the other human souls. theres probably more than that too thats just what i remeber my memorys actually kinda bad i never remember anything until i play it like three times oops. maybe i should start writing my thoughts as i go instead of making big unorganized writeups on tumblr after the fact.

also this is a really small personal nitpick that doesnt matter but i dont like ceroba's skirt. i think having such a regal traditional outfit otherwise and then just wearing a short skirt that goes above her knees makes her look more like a schoolgirl than it does someone who is like At The Minimum in her thirties. i get not wanting a long skirt to get in the way of her silhouette for her boss fight since shes all like stanced up but at that point just give her pants LOL

i don't care to comment much on the writing, on the whole i really liked it so i dont have as much to say, but i dont think martlet shouldve been there in the room with you for Chujin's tapes. i think that shouldve been a quiet moment with just Clover so it could Sit with you for a second. thats my only writing gripe in this very moment.

anyway GRAHHHH I ENDED UP WRITING A LOT OF THINGS I DIDNT LIKE AND I DONT WANT TO LEAVE WITH THE IMPRESSION I HAD A NEGATIVE EXPERIENCE SO:

MUSIC WAS REALLY GOOD!!! I LIKED ALL THE CHARACTERS!!!! I LIKED MAKING AXIS'S FUNNY ROBOT PARTNER I THOUGHT THAT WAS FUNNY!!!!!!!! ASIDE FROM THE FINAL BOSS I THOUGHT THE GAMEPLAY WAS FUN!!!!! THE MAIL MECHANIC WAS REALLY SILLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I PLAYED WITH MY FRIEND AND I HAD A VERY GOOD TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YAAY!!! I VIDEO LOVE GAMES!!!!!!!!!!

thanks for reading! im sure ill have more thoughts to share by the time i do the other routes, but like i said at the start, id like to just sit on my thoughts and let the game simmer for now. my overall opinion is that i thought it was good! not perfect by any means, but very very good. i'm sure i will revisit it someday. and by that i mean right now im gonna draw and watch a bit of saltydkdan's video of it before bed.

if you read this far tell me your favorite hot drink :) lately ive been really obsessed with like, this basic ass cinnamon/nutmeg/coriander chai from target. i put a little honey and cream in it and its like my favorite thing ever i have some every morning. i used to think i only liked fruity teas but my eyes have been truly opened.

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside Chapter Thirty-Three

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 3k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Please do not copy or repost my work

“I just don’t get it.” My eyes focused on every subtle dip and bump of Changbin's ceiling, my head resting back on his thigh as my hands waved frustratingly through the air. “I didn’t see any sign of Ateez anywhere.”

Changbin hummed as he mindlessly stared at the wall, body propped up against his headboard with his hands tucked behind his head.

“You said they mentioned the peppermint? How would they have known about that?”

“Fuck I don’t know.” I rubbed my hands across my face, my brain enveloped by a hazy fog, fighting off the sleep deprivation. My mind had been running eighty miles an hour the entire night, unable to catch a single moment of shut-eye in the pursuit of sleep. “They must have been close enough to see that I had the peppermint sticking out of my cup, or near us when we ordered them or something.”

“And you asked both Felix and Jeongin about this?”

“Of course! I told you, they didn’t see anything. It’s just not making any sense.” Contemplative silence fell back over the room as we thought of every possibility, the same questions replaying over and over and over in my head as I struggled to break the pattern of thought. I bolted upright, turning around to face Changbin as he stared back with startled wide eyes as I nudged him in the arm.

“What if my phone was bugged!? Maybe they weren’t even near us at all! They could have just been listening in and this is nothing more than a scare tactic!” 

“As much as I’d love to believe that’s the case, it feels a little bit like wishful thinking.” He readjusted his position, sitting up a bit more straight. “I still think you need to talk to Chan about this, I know you don’t want to but he needs to know if there’s a possibility that Ateez was trailing you guys. Like how did they know you were even there in the first place?”

“It'd make sense they'd know if I was bugged.” I turned back mumbling, draping my legs over the edge of the bed, and focused on my feet dangling. “It's not like they're staked out in front of the house, and they definitely can't be everywhere at once.”

“Please, just go talk to him. He might have a further idea that we aren’t thinking of”

I knew he was right. I hadn’t slept for a single moment. Of course there would be details that I could be overlooking. Focus pinned on the wrong things and running me around in circles without any conclusion. I hadn’t wanted to wind up here, but I had found myself pacing my room endlessly repeating the conversation with Changbin in my mind trying to hype myself up for what was to come.

I found myself anxiously standing before Chan’s office door, biting my lip as I tried to plan out our conversation in my head. We had still yet to truly speak since the incident at Blossom, and the thought of standing before him rubbed salt deep into the wound that was inflicted that night, that I was trying so hard to ignore. I finally knocked on the door, Chan’s muffled come in behind the wood ushering me inside. 

“What's up?” His nose was buried deep in the papers he was flipping through, not looking up as he scribbled something onto one of the corners. 

“Chan.” I don't know why my voice could barely speak above a whisper, mentally smacking myself because of my timid state. 

His head shot up from his papers, dropping them onto his desk as the smallest of smiles tried to creep its way onto the corners of his mouth.

“Y/n…” He stood, quickly rounding his desk and approaching me. But stopping short to not get too close and seem too eager, as if I were an animal he was scared of startling. 

“What-” he cleared his throat, trying to center himself and settling his shirt down as he picked up on my more solemn state. “What can I do for you?” 

I pulled my phone from my pocket, clicking on the unknown sender's messages, and handed it over to him. He stared down at the screen, face slowly contorting into confusion as his gaze returned to me.

“What's this?” 

“Last night.” My voice dropped, almost embarrassed to admit what happened. “I think we were followed when we went to the market.” 

“Followed?” He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, turning back towards his desk and motioning to one of the seats in front of it. “Go ahead and sit.” 

I followed behind him, quietly settling into the seat and tucking my hands into my lap, my stomach feeling as though it was doing somersaults.

“So I think the obvious question to ask here is, do you know who?” I shook my head sheepishly, already regretting that I was unable to bring him more information. 

“I've been stewing over it all night, I don't think it was Ateez though. I feel like I would have noticed them.” 

“And I'm assuming there was no one that stood out to you as suspicious?”

“No… I'm so sorry I can't give you more, I've seriously been tossing and turning all night. Felix and Jeongin don't recall anything either.” 

“No no, it's okay.” He waved off my apology before rubbing his fingers into his eyes. “The peppermint, what is that referring to?”

“I had a peppermint hot chocolate, that has to be what that's about and….” Chan stared at me confused as my eyes grew wide and I leaned forward, placing my face in my hands. “Oh my god the hot chocolate, Chan I'm such an idiot.”

“Okay no, you're not an idiot, I just need you to catch me up to wherever you just jumped to.”

“The fucking hot chocolate! A woman came up to me and Jeongin while we were watching Felix play a game! She asked where we got the hot chocolate and I told her to try the peppermint!” With a huff of frustration, I leaned back into the chair, letting my head fall back as I stared at the ceiling. “How did I only just now realize this!?”

“A woman? What did she look like?” 

I closed my eyes, desperately trying to reimagine her face.

“I can't remember much, it was such a brief interaction. Long, black hair? Bangs? I'd say probably like… Mid-twenties?” 

“Well, that sure narrows it down.”

“It was just so quick. She was there, then she was gone.” I sat up, my hands falling back into my lap. “It was such a mundane interaction, it’s not like I immediately thought to start taking notes on her appearance.”

I watched as Chan settled his elbow on his armrest, his hand supporting his chin as his face contorted into deep contemplation. Neither of us spoke, both falling into thought as we started to put together the pieces we had.

“So… Do we tell Jiho?” I slightly adjusted in my seat as I broke the silence, the realization that there might be an uncomfortable conversation to follow just now hitting me.

“Considering this is probably linked to Ateez, I don't think we should.” He rubbed his fingers against his chin. “As far as he knows, we've abandoned looking into them. And he’s not happy about what happened at Blossom, I’ve been on the wrong end of his anger during a few phone calls.”

“Oh, he knows?”

“Of course he knows.” Chan let out a humored scoff, “I hate to say it bluntly, but a building burned down and he had to work with the police to cover up a death. We put a lot on his plate that night.” 

“Right… I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” I hung my head slightly as the thought of that night flashed through my mind, gripping Seongho being permanently etched deep into my brain.

“Y/n-” I looked up to Chan. He was now leaning forward toward me, a solemn expression painted on his face. “I know this feels like an empty apology, because there's no forgiving what I did, but if I could change what happened that night I would in a heartbeat and-”

Taking a slow deep breath, I centered myself. Settling my racing heart as it was finally time to address the elephant in the room.

“I spent ages locked in my room, and it gave me more than enough time to think.” I cut him off, by this point feeling like he had no reason to apologize for his actions. “Deep down I knew you had to. I know how deaths have to be handled. I just didn't want to accept it. Does it make it easier? Of course not. But if Seongho saw me continuing to let this put my life on pause, and prevent me from figuring this shit out he'd kick my ass.” 

I let out a chuckle, giving a pained smile as I looked down at my hands fumbling in my lap. Taking another deep breath, I looked back up to him, trying to muster up the strength to continue. 

“It had to happen this way. At least this makes it so his family got to know, They got closure. If we brought him with us they would think he vanished into thin air. This was for the better.” 

A robbery gone painfully awry. The articles had been posted shortly after Jiho slipped bribe money into the hands of the police, our Father's connections with authority benefitting us even long after his death.

At least Seongho was able to return to his family one last time before they properly honored him in his final resting place below a marked grave.

Chan looked as though he was fighting off his emotions as we held a painful stare before he stood and rounded his desk, opening his arms wide to me. 

I stood, letting him wrap me in a tight embrace that felt like he may never let go. His chest rose and lowered with each slow, deep breath, holding me close.

We let ourselves stand there in comfortable silence, his grip on me tightening as tears unknowingly made their way down my cheeks. 

“I'm so, so sorry y/n.” He spoke up barely above a whisper.

“You stop that.” I pulled back from him, composing myself and wiping the moisture from my face, giving him a gentle pat on the chest. “I forgive you, so how about you forgive yourself now.”

“And Minho?”

“What about him?” I let out a scoff with a forced, fake smile, turning to the windows in an unconscious attempt to avoid looking him in the eyes at the sudden topic change.

“Do you forgive him?” Chan’s voice was gentle, his words feeling more like a suggestion than a question.

“There's no reason to. I'm not mad at him.” I shrugged, trying to play off the comment nonchalantly. Chan let out a humored puff of air, the smallest disbelieving, fake smile on his face.

“That didn’t seem to be the case when you stomped in here demanding to work separately from him.”

“He was holding me back.” I turned around, retrieving my phone from Chan’s desk. “It had nothing to do with that night.” I crossed to the door, trying to make a quick exit away from the diverting topic.  

“You know, I think the two of you still have a lot to learn from each other. ” I turned back to see Chan rounding his desk, hand grazing across the top before sinking into his seat. “Perhaps you could give you and him another chance?”

“I’ll let you know if any more texts come through.” My voice was flat as I turned to pull the door open, hardly giving Chan a nod, and slipping into the hall.

Click click

Everything had happened so quickly, blinded by the market lights and muffled by the sounds of the crowd.

“I’m so sorry to ask, but where did you get those?”My eyes narrowed, vision unfocused as I tried to recall my memory of the woman’s face as she had stood before me. No features stood out, a passerby that could have blended into the crowd with no attention brought to her.

Click click

She had wanted me to see her, to know of her presence. Why else would she have stepped forward and spoken to us? I had been too oblivious to her trailing us as I let myself get carried away in the night, so she had felt the need to approach. And when I was still too clueless, she continued with the texts. But how did she even have my number in the first place?

Click click

Time had started to vanish from me as I sat planted on the couch, eyes glazed over as my vision of the wall blurred. There was clearly something I was missing, some hint, some clue that would have been right under my nose the entire night.

Click click

A hand wrapped tightly around my fist, pulling me from my thoughts as my eyes came into focus on the feet before me. Slowly glancing up, I look at my hand held in place, then up to the irritated eyes of Minho standing above and staring me down.

“Quit it.” His other hand reached across, pulling the pen from the grip of my restrained hand and pocketing it, before turning on his heels and returning to the kitchen.

So deep into my thoughts, I hadn't even realized his presence on the other side of the room, or the consistent clicking that my thumb had been causing on the tip of my pen with each racing thought.

“Excuse me! I was using that!” I hopped up from my seat, promptly following behind him in protest.

He blissfully ignored me, eyes focused on the pot of ramen before him as he stirred its contents.

“Minho!” I tried to reach around to slip my hand into the pocket of his hoodie in an attempt to retrieve the pen, his hand quickly swatting me away.

“Stop that.” His snap was sharp, like he was scolding a disobedient cat for clawing at the furniture. Still refusing to look at me. 

“Stop being a prick and give me my damn pen.”

He quickly turned on his heels, our faces just inches apart and his stoic expression unreadable. I sucked in a breath of air, promptly holding it in my lungs as his eyes bore into mine within a tense silence that felt hours long. 

“You're in the way.” He spoke monotonically, head slightly cocking to the side as his arm reached up right beside my head. He grabbed a seasoning from the open shelf, turning back to the pot unphased.

I watched as he silently grabbed his bowl from the side, filling it until he was content, and turned to fish utensils from the drawer.

“I made too much. Eat it.” His head slightly turned in my direction. “You get cranky when you're hungry.” Without another glance, he started his way toward the hall.

“I don’t have to do as you say, you know.”

“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, stopping in his tracks and turning back to me. “Then it goes to waste.”

“Hey! Don't leave until you give my pen back!” 

He froze for a moment, brows furrowing like he was deep in thought. His head slowly rose with a smirk, giving another nonchalant shrug.

“Ask nicely.” 

“Oh fuck off.” I spit back. 

“That's what I've been trying to do, Dear!” He called out in a sing-song tune as he left, the softest giggle coming from the distance. 

With a huff and a mental foot stomp to the floor, I turned back to the unattended pot on the stove, just enough ramen for a secondary serving.

“You get cranky when you’re hungry” I mocked in a mumble, but still reluctantly grabbing myself a bowl from the cabinet. 

What an absolute twat. Once again thinking he’s so high and mighty, confiscating my pen from me. He’s lucky that I am just now realizing that I had indeed not fed myself today, or this would surely go to waste out of pure spite. 

I settled myself back onto the couch in silence, letting my mindless focus now go into my bowl of noodles instead of the incessant clicking of a pen. With a sip of broth, I hummed, the realization of hunger promptly hitting me with the first bite.

He’s also lucky that I missed his cooking.

I quickly scolded myself at the immediate thought. This is spite ramen, no matter how good his cooking is. 

It hadn’t taken me long to devour the bowl, the warm broth causing the drowsiness to finally hit me. I set the bowl on the coffee table, grabbing the remote, and deciding to watch just one episode before heading to bed. My head fell on a decorative pillow as I stretched out on the couch, not taking in much of the show as it began to play. 

I slowly started to stir, one eye-opening while the other stayed squeezed firmly shut to fight off the morning light. Feeling a bit disoriented as I sat up, I realized I must have fallen asleep on the couch last night. Dozing off before I had the chance to pull myself to bed. 

I attempted to stretch my arms and back, feeling tense from the night's sleep on the cushions. The TV had been shut off during the night, leaving the room silent. As I swung my legs over the side, settling my feet on the floor, I realized I'd been kept warm by an unfamiliar blanket. One that I most definitely hadn't fetched for myself and I made the safe assumption one of the boys had probably laid it across me in my sleep. 

I reached for my phone to check the time, quickly seeing that it had died during the night and was of no use. My bowl from dinner had vanished, but my eyes focused on my journal sitting where it once was, and the pen that was being returned to me sitting atop it, Chan’s voice softly replaying in my mind. 

“You know, I think the two of you still have a lot to learn from each other. ” 

“Perhaps you could give you and him another chance?”

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@leagreenly @jamlessstars @moonlight-the-writer @ishz @minbinboo @felixslostfreckle @venusmoonxnight @caillout24 @linocz @stayceebs97 @trinityceleste8 @_yhtwdr @lefay-ette

If you're highlighted in red I cannot properly tag you

[beyondspaceandstars]

new year's eve with matt

A/N - i’m sitting around waiting for midnight and just had some little thoughts about what it would be like to celebrate new years eve with boyfriend!matt murdock <3 this is a really short, quick, unedited thing i thought would be fun to do so i hope y'all enjoy! i am also a little tipsy writing this so hope it makes sense

I feel like new years with Matt would be small but so meaningful

at first, you two would be like "we're staying in" because, well, new york seems hectic on new years eve no matter where you are

but then by like 8pm, maybe even 9pm, Foggy and Karen come knocking on the door wondering where you guys are and what you're doing

then you two have no choice but to give in and next thing you know you're squeezing into the crowded bar, sipping beers and taking shots every now and then

as the drinks and minutes flow, i think Matt would become more and more loving, physically

something about him screams that he's a happy, touchy drunk. a couple of heavy drinks in him and he's headed straight for you to caress your waist or draw patterns on the back of your hand

he does this relentlessly as you try to kick ass in pool no matter how many times you playfully reprimand him for his wandering hands

overall, going out is nice. you get to catch up with everyone, have some drinks, and get ready to bring in the new year

right before the new year rings in, though, you and Matt would slip away from the crowd

it'd be Matt who would initiate this little sneaking away but you happily went along with it

"it's a little stuffy in here isn't it?" Matt would ask, his words saying so much yet so little. you couldn't help but giggle. "it is, honey."

Matt would eagerly grab your hand and avoid all questions or looks as he'd drag you out into the cool, fresh winter new york night. there were a few other bustling around but mostly, it was strangely calm for the city during the holidays. but you'd take it over anything else any day

you two would scurry along to some alleyway and Matt would hand you a beer he had swiped from the bar before stepping out. it was adorable and hilarious.

"you're stealing now, Murdock? that's not what good, catholic boys do." "actually, I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you.'"

you'd lean against the brick wall of some building as you'd open your beers. the minutes ticked down slowly to midnight. Matt would probably be very aware of how close it was to the new year just from hearing the chanting countdown across the city. but he wouldn't say anything to you.

"how long until midnight?" he'd ask you in a very husky whisper as he leaned into you. you'd check your phone and say, "under a minute, I think." but you couldn't pay much attention. you were so caught up in the buzz from the alcohol and the high from your boyfriend.

this wasn't your first new year together but something about it felt different and right. this was gonna be a good year. you sensed it with every bone in your body.

your relationship was at its best and you were beyond thankful to get to spend another year with him. it was almost unbelievable how perfect life had become.

Matt would soon tune back into the countdown and begin whispering it in your ear, following along as the entire city seemed to scream out numbers in synchronous chanting

"five... four... three..."

but before he could even get to one, you'd pull him in for a kiss - a very passionate new years kiss. and Matt certainly wouldn't protest.

yells, cheers, and fireworks popped off all around you two but none of it mattered at all. you didn't hear any of it as you were completely engulfed in your boyfriend.

you'd literally end one year and begin the next wrapped in Matt's hold, completely loved by him, and what could be better than that?

finally, after an intense minute or so, you'd force yourself to pull away for quick air. "happy new year," you'd mutter. Matt would chuckle and say, "happy new year, sweetheart."

[thelikesoffinn]

hiiiii so have you heard about astarion actually having DID? (dissociative identity disorder in case you don't kno) ive seen that a few times on tiktok now and i thought i finna ask you about it because that shiz is wiiild to me. like girl wtf.

TW: Dissociative Identity Disorder He's got...what. Just what.

What in the world is TikTok cooking up now? Like, what in the world? I myself don't use TikTok, so I've never heard this before but damn. Damn.

Flower, I'm not gonna lie, this confuses me more than the 'his crying is a sign that not ascending is the bad choice'. Because this? This is wild, you're so right. This is more than wild, this is the wildest shit.

DID is such a highly specific disorder, why would anyone get the idea Astarion could have that? (Once again, I'm not standing in the way of anyones headcanons, play around as you like, but heavens, no. I don't see that at all.)

Over the entire game, I haven't seen a singular sign that could point towards DID. And yes, sure, one could say 'well Alters are meant to protect the system to the shift is not obvious so Astarion's alter called Astorian could just be hiding it really well' which...yeah, okay, that's true I'll hand them that but there's other signs apart from the shifting alters that Astarion simply doesn't display.

He might have some common comorbidities, but if we go just by that he could have pretty much any other disorder known to man because so so many of them come with the same comorbidities. That is why diagnosing people accurately is so difficult.

Also - DID is developed in early childhood. Mostly in children before the age of nine who experienced extreme trauma. And yes, while Astarion WAS abused and his abuse would definitely be enough for that, he wasn't a child. I mean, come on, he was 36. And yes, that is young for elves but it's still a blown arse adult. It just doesn't make sense.

And, can I just step away from my social worker self and into my writer self for a hot second? I usually try not to, but it's necessary here.

Astarion's trauma and the resulting behavioural patterns exist to add complexity and depth to his character. They are devices used so that he isn't just the campy cunty vampire. We are supposed to see his layers, to see that he is more than just the rude pretty boy. We are supposed to make connections between his behaviour and how Cazador treated him, which is why his behaviour is as obvious and textbook as it is. It's a glaring neon sign made for us so that we understand the character and endear him to us.

That is why they are there.

Anything used in a story is there for a reason. Everything is used to drive the story forward and carry it into the authors chosen direction. It would make absolutely zero sense to give Astarion a disorder as rare, as misunderstood and as interesting as DID and not mention it. That would be so. much. wasted story telling potential.

It just doesn't make sense, absolutely not.

And I'm not saying DID wouldn't make for an interesting story - quite the opposite. I think the community could thrive on some destigmatisation because all the DID characters I've ever seen were crazily homicidal maniacs and it'd be nice to see a character that is displaying DID in the proper way, but Astarion simply isn't it.

He really really isn't.

TikTok is throwing around wild theories every day it seems, I'm really truly baffled!

[auschizm]

This is mostly just a vent because I'm. Kind of a bit terrified and really want to vent in detail SOMEwhere. I would also appreciate encouragement and support but I'm not expecting much, I know I should probably find and go to a professional for help with this stuff.

So. Warning for this being a vent and touching on stuff like injuries that didn't actually happen and a lot of heavy emotions, I suppose.

I was diagnosed with autism in my late teens, but recently I've been strongly suspecting that something else is there--either a really really bad anxiety disorder, or possibly I'm schizo-spec? I'm really not sure, but a part of me keeps latching onto schizophrenia as a possible explanation whether it's the case or not. I've run into a pattern of getting really anxious at night to the point where it becomes impossible to sleep. Sometimes it's paired with what I suspect to be delusions and panic attacks.

A couple of months ago I once woke up in the middle of the night, convinced I'd somehow badly cut myself and that my eyes and sense of touch were both lying to me, even when I tried turning on the light to get a better look. For some reason I didn't believe my sense of taste would lie to me and didn't taste any blood, and I managed to calm myself to go back to sleep. And for a little while I thought that would be a one-time thing. But then I started getting terrified that if I went to sleep, something awful would happen, it'd turn out I had some terrible disease and die in my sleep and never finish any of my novels, or something. And I only really got a full night's worth of sleep two nights this week.

And a two nights ago I had what I think (I hope?) was a panic attack. My whole body suddenly started trembling, and it got so bad my teeth began chattering and I couldn't stand for extended periods of time. I managed to make it stop by petting the dog for several minutes, and when I had another one last night I made it stop by reading a chapter from a book until I relaxed more. But between my mind running away with certain ideas and making it hard to sleep, and losing control of my body in that way, and not even knowing what triggered those things and why it got so bad NOW as opposed to a month ago or a month from now. It's just really terrifying. I thought before that I understood the weird ways my body and my mind worked, and was really good at getting around them, or even just identifying when something like a meltdown or digestive issues were about to happen. And now it feels like I barely know my body and mind anymore. I wish I could just skip to the point where I have it all figured out again.

I am still making progress in figuring it out...kinda. I had some theories about what might help, my parents had other ideas. And it worked well enough that I only woke up once last night and got back to bed within a half hour, so I should be fine again eventually. But right now I still feel sore and weak and frustrated and anxious. I keep feeling silly about asking for help in the moment because it's not like anything's physically wrong with me, and I don't want to wake people up in the middle of the night when everyone else has work tomorrow.

I don't want to speculate about what's causing these experiences and why, but I can definitely relate to the experiences you're describing and they sound both genuinely terrifying and debilitating. And I am so sorry you have to cope with this! I do think it might be worth looking into what's happening here, because it definitely isn't classic autism.

[oatmealdaydreams]

All of Me Needs Sleep, All of Me

Because I love Virgil like a totally normal person, so I decided to write a lil oneshot about sleepy Vi.

Prompt: Here (from @sleepyvirgilprompts)

Pairing: platonic ThVi

Trigger/Content Warning: sleep deprivation, mention of weapons

Description: When Virgil can't sleep he'll check on the others, or more importantly, on Thomas to make sure he's safe. When Thomas sees this, however, he isn't having it.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[Read below the cut]

When Virgil can't sleep, he'll make sure everyone else is okay and safe. More importantly, he'll avidly check on Thomas.

Usually, Thomas is sound asleep and appears to be fine. After a while of watching and guarding to make sure, Virgil will try to go back to his room and rest. It usually ends with him binging YouTube or staring mindlessly at the ceiling, but that's fine. He's fine. A few hours of sleep is enough to not kill him.

And this time was supposed to be the same. But it wasn't, thanks to his person.

It was some time after midnight, Virgil knew that much. He just couldn't sleep. His mind swirled with what ifs and could bes. No way was he resting now.

What if Thomas is in danger, and you're not there to help him?

Virgil shot straight up in his bed, his mind now fully focused on Thomas. That thought made his hands shake slightly, made his veins jolt and halt his mindless staring contest with the ceiling. He hurried off his bed and practically raced to sink out into the real world.

Now he stood at the edge of Thomas' bed, seeing his person sleeping soundly. Safe and okay, he's safe and okay. Virgil watched his chest rise up and down, the steady pattern of breathing. The light snoring. The occasional mumble in his sleepy state. He watched carefully when Thomas would shift or move into a different position to be comfy. He'd just stand there, at the edge of the bed.

He couldn't sleep until he was absolutely sure nothing would try and get him. Virgil was his protector, the person to watch over him whilst he rested. To make sure no danger came his way. To keep him alive and okay, and safe. He wanted him to be safe.

And his mind took so long to be convinced that he was truly, and honestly, safe.

As long as I'm here, nothing can hurt you.

Just like the twins had their weapons, the sword and the morningstar, the others had their own as well. Logan's and Janus' were a bit less obvious. Logan had a strange bow, one that possessed arrows made of literal space and stars. He was Logic, long-range made sense. He calculated the best option and took it. His bow would materialize only when he truly needed it, which thankfully wasn't very often.

Janus had his cane. It sounded a little weak, but it surely was anything but. There was a hidden little button underneath the hook of his cane. If he pressed it, his cane would morph and shift into a sort of whip. It was a little more like yellow ribbon attached to a silver and topaz handle. It helped when he had to pull someone away from danger, the ribbon curling around his target so he could yank them to safety. It also proved great for slashing at the enemy and scaring larger beasts with the loud crack it'd make.

Patton, surprisingly, had one as well. I mean, yeah, he is a dad. But it's Patton; you would think he wouldn't want to hurt anyone. And he doesn't, unless that someone proves to be a threat to any of his kiddos. That's when Patton lets himself be imperfect, in a protective manner. That's the only time you'd ever hear him cuss. His weapon was, oddly enough, quite literally a gun. Whoever decided it was a good idea to give Patton a gun was either the dumbest person in existence, or an absolute genius. Patton seemed to hand his sky-blue, frog-themed pistol extremely well. It was a little scary how well he handled it. It shimmered in the sun, it's metal practically made of pond water and decorative lily pads. It was like someone morphed a frog pond into a little pistol. Patton only ever had it on him if he sensed someone's upset. Just in case.

A lesson to be had: never piss off Patton. He literally has a f*cking gun.

And Virgil? He had a set of dual Chinese sabres, each made of shadow and fear. They were outlined in an eery violet haze. If anyone besides Virgil touched them, they sent violent shivers of icy terror through their veins. Perhaps that's what they were so effective, and equally dangerous. He could summon them as quick and reactive as he was, especially in Fight-or-Flight mode.

Which brings us back to Virgil watching Thomas sleeping, debating on whether it was appropriate to summon his sabres. He still wasn't convinced Thomas was completely safe yet.

Anything could jump out while he's vulnerable. You must protect him, always protect him.

And Virgil accidentally summoned them on reflex when Thomas groaned loudly and sat up in his bed, startling the Emo Nightmare. He must have dozed off into thought. He can't do that, he has to be alert. No matter how tired or delirious he gets, he must protect Thomas.

Virgil blinked, summoning away his sabres as he realized it was just Thomas waking up. He needs to go back to sleep, put him back to sleep. Do your job. Why'd you wake him up? F*cking dumbass.

"Vr-rgil?" Thomas' words slurred as his rubbed his eyes. "Why're you up?"

Virgil hesitated. He didn't want to worry Thomas, cause he knew he'd be worried, of course he would. He shifted in his spot at the edge of the bed.

"Protecting you," came Virgil's small voice.

"Mm, what? What are you doing?" came a sleepy reply, still too tired to comprehend things the first time.

"Checking on you."

A little louder, but not too loud in case Thomas fell back asleep.

"Virge, it's-" Thomas turns a little to check his clock. "It's three in the morning."

"I couldn't sleep, and I got worried," Virgil shrugged it off.

"I'm okay, Vi."

"I know..."

"Just- go to sleep. I don't care where, just go to bed."

Thomas gave Virgil a soft look, seeing the smallest glimpse of the bags hidden under his eyeshadow. His hands were slightly shaking; whether from anxiety or exhaustion, it wasn't clear. He looked so tired. He worried about his Anxiety- this part of him that never seemed to sleep. He looked like he was able to collapse. In fact, he wavered where stood, even if just by the tiniest bit. It still made Thomas concerned.

Virgil seemed to hesitate again, tugging at his hoodie drawstrings. He bit at his lip for a moment, before forcing himself to stop, and take a quiet breath. He still wasn't fully convinced that Thomas was safe.

Thomas saw the lingering worry in Virgil's eyes, and he sighed. Such a protector, isn't he?

"Come 'ere," he said, beckoning him with a loose gesture.

"...what?" Virgil asked dumbly.

"Come here. Sleep by me."

"But I don't-"

"You don't have to if you're uncomfortable, but you need sleep, Virge. And we both know you won't rest until you're sure I'm okay."

"...okay."

This way he could still watch over Thomas.

And get rest, but he wasn't thinking about that. In fact, he only started to realize exactly how tired he was as he slowly walked over to the side opposite of Thomas. His person scooched over, making room for the anxious Side. As soon as Virgil climbed in and his head hit the pillows, he nearly passed out. He forced himself to stay awake, whining out of fear that something would come for them as soon as he fell asleep. God, but his eyes felt so heavy.

"Hey, it's okay, Virgil," Thomas whispered as he carded a calm hand through the Side's hair. "All of me needs sleep, all of me."

Virgil melted at the soothing action, wanting nothing more than to just let himself sleep. But worries lingered, and his dumb little brain wouldn't let him rest.

Thomas, unexpectedly, cuddled up to Virgil. Though the Sides were imaginary and metaphysical, they were still tangible (to a certain degree). How tangible depended on Thomas. Plus, it was like cuddling to himself as an act of self-love. Yes, he still struggled with loving himself- a lot of people do, it's a common thing- but when the Sides needed him, he was there. He loved them, even if he wasn't the best at showing it sometimes. Even if some of them were difficult to deal with, or even if he was just so damn drained. He'd always love them; they were a literal part of him. And he wanted nothing more than to keep the pieces of himself loved.

If he could love the pieces, then perhaps he could love the whole puzzle.

It startled Virgil for a moment, but he just as soon relaxed when he realized it was just Thomas. He held him, put his arms around his person in a protective and sleepy manner. He rested his chin on Thomas' head, keeping him close and safe. Always safe, forever safe as long as he was there.

As soon as he felt like Thomas was secure in his arms, he passed out. Little snores, much like Thomas' own, came from him. Eyes so heavy and relaxed watched the exhausted Side before closing themselves.

"Goodnight, Vi," Thomas whispered before letting himself back into sleep.

And thus, both slept through the night, calm and quiet in each other's warmth.

No one wondered why they were like that as morning came, just glad that Virgil was finally getting some sleep. They let the duo sleep in for a bit longer before starting the day. They both needed this.

And when they woke up, no one commented on it. Everyone went on with their day. It put the anxious Side at ease.

Thomas made a mental note to cuddle Virgil whenever he was worried and sleep deprived.

[luckhissoul]

continued from ( xxx ) @agoldenlily

finally they start walking. it was starting to get cold and it was good to get moving. even if she randomly chose a direction for them to go in. he was supposed to trust something like this? walking this way or that way - blood and ashes, this wasn't the best escape plan. at least the gateway had gotten them away from ebou dar, away from the flaming seanchan. but where would they go from here? he wasn't sure. light, but they needed a better plan than wandering this way or that. they needed something solid. he'd eventually have to go find the band, hopefully still with egwene. but first thing he had to do was get elayne back to camelyn. the bloody queen of andor out here wandering without anything but him to protect her!

and with the pain in his hip and - light, where were all his knives? he had a couple in his boots but his jacket was sadly depleted of them. he felt uncovered, uneasy even. he doesn't know where most of his stuff is at, he feels a little disoriented. pressing her a little closer to him, tucking her there against his side. he's not leaning on her. he's keeping her close so she doesn't run off and do something stupid. he had to keep her there. the bloody woman would probably run off and do something stupid, completely reckless.

and if he were to say anything of course she'd bring up that she had come all this way. but she owed it to him, didn't she? after everything, hadn't she said that herself? tht she'd save him one day. well, he hadn't thought it'd involve all this mess, with the seanchan damane probably having sensed her channeling. and this trek through the bloody fields of andor with no destination in sight. next time he'd just as well not take her help. he would be better off, wouldn't he? but at least right now she's not waving this in his face.

instead she's talking nonsense. saying that he could have some of this land! well, she could keep it all herself. he didn't want her bloody land or her titles. light, he just wanted a moment's rest which seemed to never be coming. the pattern wouldn't let him. elayne bloody trakand wouldn't let him. the worst thing was that she actually thought that he'd be tripping over himself to help her just because - well, he'd rather not think of it. but there's a small part of him that still lingers back on what she had done to wake him up. he shakes the thought from his head.

"if i did that you'd expect to win every time you came by. it'd be bad for business." he says with a small laugh. he stumbles on his step though. and he has to let her go so that he doesn't drag her down any. he winces as he presses his hand to his hip. stopping, light, but he didn't want to stop. he could make the walk. hadn't they said that walking around a little every day would make it better. well, this was going to be one long bloody trek, he'd be healed up in no time.

he stands straighter, not wanting her to notice. light, help him but could the bloody woman fuss. and when she did she got this look in her eyes. it was no good being in her good graces, no bloody good at her. so he smiles against the pain. well, it might come off a little more like a grimace. she wouldn't notice. "and you can't say i owe you." he says, a slight shrug of his shoulders. he reaches his hand out ad does something he knows that he's going to regret. his knuckles brush the side of her face. warm even against the cold, soft, he remembers - no, it would do no good thinking about any of that. "you said it yourself, you owed me one. maybe i arranged this whole world of mess just for you."

[the-entity-down-the-street]

Y'know it's been a hot minute since I made a post about witchcraft on this blog, and a lot has changed since my beginnings back in 2019, so I think it's time to share some thoughts.

MY MAGIC AND AUTISM:

One of my discord friends was talking about possibly being an empath, and at first I didn't say anything, but eventually I decided it'd be better to inform them that a lot of the "empath/indigo child/sensitive" stuff is just spiritual talk for neurodivergency.

I'm autistic myself, finally got diagnosed in 2022 a few days before my 25th birthday. My mom told me that we were empaths when I was growing up, that we were sensitive to the feelings of other people, and that's why we both ended up shouldering other people's problems. She tried to teach me how "block" energies, but that never really worked for me. In part, this is because it was an abusive household and there was no escape from the negativity, but that's not the point I'm trying to make.

As it turns out, there is a way to block negative energy, and it's called setting healthy boundaries with the people around you. Y'know, talking with your friends, making it clear when you don't have the energy to listen to them vent. If you have good friends, they'll be happy to listen and respect your wishes. If you don't, well, I cast the spell of "bye."

Having access to therapy, learning interpersonal skills, and (eventually) going on antidepressants was more helpful for getting rid of negativity than any amount of purifying crystals/blocking techniques.

In fact, getting my mental health in check allowed me to *really* start my spiritual journey! Parsing out what was in my head and what was really, genuinely mystical was crucial for my craft. I could talk more clearly with my tarot cards, I was more in-tune with the messages the universe was sending me, and things in my life finally started moving forward.

This brings me back to the autism diagnosis. Having the language and clarification about how I experience the world really allowed me to flourish magically. You know why? Because through understanding how my autism influences my perception, I could find my strengths.

For example, I'm really good at picking out patterns, and I tend to make sense of life through the lens of storytelling, so I have a tendency to see thematic elements that carry through in my life. One of my dearest friends from college said that I did everything with a "narrative flair," and that's because of my ability to find narrative patterns.

This leads into how I picked up pop culture witchcraft. My strong attachments to my favorite stories, as well as my proclivity for picking up on themes, makes it the perfect avenue for performing witchcraft. Now I'm a fully confident witch with strong personal proof that magic is real.

Basically, what I'm saying is, despite the pervasive ableism that conflates neurodivergency with spirituality, there is a healthy way to have both simultaneously, by understanding how one influences the other. It can lead to a deeper understanding of yourself, as well as a deeper connection to the divine! Don't be afraid to be yourself, neurodivergent witches!

[fazar234]

To Crack an Egg - Chapter 1 - Prologue (A Sonic the Hedgehog IDW Fanfic)

When you crack an egg, you end up with two halves of one.

When you try to crack an Eggman, you end up with a Restoration divided into two: one group who draws the line at taking a life...

And the other who just wants Eggman dead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Fazar try not to spend a long break after uploading one fic challange (impossible) (gone wrong)

Jokes aside, I know it's been a while. With Amphibia having ended a year ago, and me not having a lot of ideas, I pretty much procrastinated for the past year. So I decided, why not try my hand at Sonic fanfiction? It's one of my favorite franchises, and the comics I absolutely ADORE. Now, this is an AU that kinda happened by accident, after I saw a theory by @thebwarch about how Lanolin might go too far with trying to kill Eggman. While that obviously has no chance of happening, I thought it'd make for a good AU, and then it somehow kinda spiraled into an AU about an extremist group working in secret to kill Eggman for good. And thus, this fic was born. I have @scrabbleknight to thank for helping me out with the fic on Discord. Go check out his stuff if you're into Amphibia! Anyway, without further ado, let the fic COMMENCE!

Lanolin sipped what might have been her third cup of coffee as she worked tirelessly at her desk.

It had been months since the Metal Virus outbreak, an incident that had nearly destroyed her home, friends, family, the entire world. Seeing so many people succumb to the disease, transforming into mindless, feral monsters with no desire other than to spread their infection across the world…it left a mental scar that had yet to fully heal.

She still had nightmares about the outbreak. How it ravaged the entire world, how it took away her beloved friends and family, how even she fell victim to the virus itself. She had joined the Restoration to assist in the battle against the pandemic, a battle they’d almost lost. They were able to recover, but she feared they wouldn’t be so lucky next time something like this happened.

Hence why she was staying up late at 12 AM, sitting at her computer and browsing through old files she had discovered at one of Eggman’s abandoned bases, each one documenting information on one of the doctor’s previous schemes, their execution, and their inevitable failure thanks to Sonic the Hedgehog, even though she was supposed to be up early tomorrow for a meeting with Tangle, Whisper, Jewel and Sonic about how they’d infiltrate Eggperial City. She had to find some sort of connection, anything, that could give the Restoration an idea on how to be ready for what other plans he most likely had involving his new metropolis.

Speaking of which…

“Dear Gaia,” Lanolin muttered. “I thought the Metal Virus was extreme, but this comes close in comparison…”

Reading the files, she was shaken by the Doctor’s past attempts: using Chaos to destroy Station Square, blowing up the moon, resurrecting Dark Gaia, enslaving hundreds of Wisps for his own selfish intentions, using the Phantom Ruby to conquer the world?!

Just how many incidents had that man caused? How many people had fallen victims to the Doctor’s diabolical schemes? And how many more attacks like that could they afford to take?

As she finished scrolling through the last file on her computer, however, she began to notice an odd pattern.

Whenever one of Eggman’s plans failed, he was always somehow able to escape, before eventually retaliating with another one that was sometimes worse than the last.

But how? Lanolin thought. Sonic’s the fastest thing alive. There’s no way Eggman, or anyone for that matter, can outrun him. Sonic should have gotten rid of him years ago. Yet he’s still kicking.

Lanolin was frustrated. It didn’t make any sense! The only possible explanation for why Eggman was always able to get away with his actions would be…

…that Sonic was letting him go on purpose.

Lanolin froze. As her mind started to finally put the pieces together, she began to remember what had happened during the doctor’s attack on Spiral Hill Village…

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“NO, NO, NO!!!” Dr. Eggman roared. “I had them! I won!”

Sonic, ignoring his outburst, leapt off the mech and repeatedly spin-dashed into the center with an incredible velocity, before getting behind Omega, the robot being used to power the colossal suit.

“Out…you…GO!” Sonic grunted as he pried Omega free from the mech, his eyes flashing a bright red as he fell to the ground.

“UNLEASHING STOCKPILED WRATH!” Omega exclaimed as he turned around and opened fire on the suit, causing it to explode, but not before Eggman ejected his Egg Mobile, saving his own skin in the process.

Lanolin had taken refuge behind a building as she watched the scene unfold. Her mind was still whirling from the chaos of the Metal Virus outbreak, but that didn’t stop her from recalling the events that occurred the past several minutes:

Sonic’s friends were having a party at Spiral Hill Village to celebrate the end of the Metal Virus.

Dr. Eggman had arrived to crash their party, bearing a mech suit with Omega as its power source, because apparently fate wouldn’t let them have a break.

And finally, just when all seemed lost, Sonic, by some miracle, had returned, in a burst of flame that crashed onto the battlefield, to save the day.

And now, Dr. Eggman’s mech met the same fate as his other inventions: being reduced to a heap of scrap.

“AMMO DEPLETED,” Omega stated, wobbling a bit. Poor guy must have been tuckered out from what he went through.

“S’all good, man,” Sonic assured him. “You did your part.”

“DO NOT PATRONIZE ME.”

Eggman growled. “You just couldn’t stay gone, could you?! Just had to come back and ruin my fun!”

“Always, Egg-Face. Anytime. Anywhere,” Sonic replied coolly, walking towards him. He got into a battle stance. “Come a little closer. We’ll go another round.”

Eggman’s expression twisted from anger into fear, clearly not ready to handle another defeat from Sonic. “Still sore about that whole ‘getting infected and nearly becoming a mindless machine’ thing, eh?” He chuckled nervously.

Sonic crossed his arms, clearly not happy to remember that. “That’s part of the list, yes.”

Eggman humphed, before crossing his arms, turning his cockpit around, and leaving the party, or what remained of it anyway. “Well… I still ruined your party! The day is mine!” He declared. “My next sinister plot will be unbeatable! Until next time, you wretched hedgehog!”

Sonic sighed as he watched the Doctor make his exit. “Until next time, doc. And the time after that, and the one after that,” He muttered. “Maybe you’ll eventually come around…”

As Sonic’s friends rushed to greet him, elated that he was alive, Lanolin remained where she hid, trying to process the fact that Sonic had let Dr. Eggman, the one responsible for so much suffering, live as though he’d done nothing wrong.

Sonic had let Dr. Eggman live, even when he promised his next scheme would be unbeatable, which worried her.

Sonic had let Dr. Eggman live, and she didn’t understand why.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Lanolin’s fists clenched. It all made sense now. She finally understood.

Sonic the Hedgehog.

He was the reason why she and everyone else constantly suffered in this endless cycle.

All because he valued freedom and mercy for everyone, even those undeserving of it.

Well, no more.

Since she could no longer count on Sonic to stop the Eggman Empire for good, she’d just have to take it into her own hands.

No matter what.

[ronmanmob]

"Scars make us who we are.”

She’d taken a break, pouring herself a cup of coffee and gone to join him. One hand wrapped around her mug, fingers tracing a jagged line in the wood on the table. Corinne found herself looking forward to those days he lingered in the cafe, their conversations covering a wide range of topics. She’d not realized at first she’d said the words out loud. Spoken in a quiet tone, but filled with a weight that nearly took up a physical presence in the air between them.

“Sorry, didn’t realize I spoke out loud.” She said after glancing up and a sudden awareness dawning that he’d heard. She gave him an apologetic smile, then decided as long as she’d given voice to the thought, she might as well ask. “Do you think that’s accurate?”

Scars Meme

Reflexively Ron waved off the apology, a slight motion of his hand and a single shake of the head doubling for words as he considered his newly returned pal's question. Time was she'd barely been able to get three words out of him, but as weeks trickled into months and his visits to this lovely little café became at least semi-regular, his comfort with its lady-proprietor (and hers with him) had slowly grown to the point where this, now, was possible. As to scars though--

"--If tha' was true" Ron began, his gaze lingering on Corinne's cup and on her hands more than it did her face or eyes as he spoke to her. He'd have worried once upon a time that that way about him tracked as dismissive or disinterested, but she'd never mentioned it to him and kept on coming over to see him when the mood took so...It couldn't be so onerous a thing.

"If tha' were true, lit'rally true, I'd be more ov a mess ov a person than I am now."

There was a laugh under there somewhere, just a breath's worth that aimed at making his comment sound jestful. On a penny though, almost as a testament to how false it'd been, this guise fell away. Ron moved one of his hands away from the steaming cup of tea he'd been cupping with it, reaching by inches towards Cory so she could see its back; see his knuckles and the spiderweb of pale lines and old, fading calluses that patterned them. There were so many more of them in so many places, but these...They hurt the least.

"All I'd be-" he went on, chancing a look at her face quickly before retreating again to their hands; his where it lay for her to see in the warm café light and hers on her mug, nice and warm. "-Is a ragged lump'a rage 'n pain b'cause mine-- Their legacy's fights. 'Avin' t'fight -- ovvah people, m'eself...I--"

A breath was drawn in and released as a thought came to him.

"Scars" Ron said, "tell th'tale'a where y've been, I fink. They don't tell th'tale'a 'oo y'are; don't make yah 'oo yah are." He glanced at Cory's face again. "S'tha' make sense?"

[shock-micro]

hmm. i beat the final two levels of the adofai dlc and i have. thoughts! first off- neat songs, but i don't remember them whatsoever! and i think that ties in with why i don't quite like them as much as i could.

core difference that makes me remember the main game's songs better? longer stretches without checkpoints! sure, it means the difficulty is less condensed, but i like that! i get to know the parts, i get to feel the nerves of passing a section that was giving me trouble, and there's a sense of genuine progress when i finally get past it consistently and make it to one of the more rare checkpoints!

third sun and divine intervention felt less focused on that, and more on making something that's difficult in a short burst and then moving onto something new. which is? not my favorite kind of gameplay. if i wanted that, i'd go back to grinding out the expert lobby in celeste's strawberry jam collab. i want to learn a SONG in a rhythm game, and i want to do that in good chunks.

the last section of divine intervention has parts of the path where you literally cannot die because otherwise it'd be too unforgiving. because the patterns you're given are so fast and hard to memorize that it's basically required if you're not already a god at the game! and that just feels to me like it's gone too far in a direction that i really don't like. sure, you DO need to hit it right if you want to get a good medal for the section. do i care? no! getting even a normal perfect on that section sounds like praying to god that i'll get good luck making my fingers at all do the right thing! it's like i'd need some kind of divine intervention to even have a chance at it! it's long stretches of weird pattern at high speeds and shorter bursts of even higher speed intertwined!

but, for what it's worth, i don't hate the dlc. i think it introduces some neat stuff! i liked learning holds and midspin stuff, and despite what i said about liking longer stretches without checkpoints, an entire level dedicated to microgames in a rhythm game context is really fun when that's the entire point. even third sun and divine intervention, the levels with the philosophy i don't like as much... they were still fun up until their respective final real checkpoints. it was neat learning certain patterns as i went, up until those patterns got too weird to really hold in my head.

though the final two levels HAVE tutorial sections, by the time you get to the parts where they're really warranted, the patterns have already been supplanted by other stuff you've had to learn on the fly. and i will admit, it's kinda funny how the song made by the same artist who did the soundtrack for terraria's calamity mod has a level with a section that's far harder than everything else for the purpose of spectacle

maybe my preferences are solidified from my 180 hours in geometry dash on steam and who knows how many across various mobile devices, but i do like how gd (despite being much less of a pure rhythm game) has an emphasis on longer levels and not giving checkpoints in the middle- instead insisting the player learn in practice at their own pace. i know adofai has a practice mode, and maybe it would've been better for me if i'd used it, but if the game GIVES you preset checkpoints at key points in the level, and so MANY in the case of neo cosmos... well, it almost feels like cheating to look ahead by using my own.

being able to set checkpoints at your own pace and doing runs of a level that progressively get longer and longer until they finally converge into a completion is much more satisfying then. ope i finally got that down let's go, time to move on forever! there's also, for me, a clear difference between the feeling of levels that you start from the beginning each attempt and ones where you start from some form of checkpoint. levels with checkpoints imply, to me, that you're meant to beat them all in a single sitting if you can. grind it out until you're able to beat it! the one time i ever quit out of a level after reaching a checkpoint was heracles because i was Not having a good day that day and i was getting hard on myself for continuing to die past 90%. with geometry dash, you have a clean slate every time. you can hop into practice mode and try to get a few runs, do a few real attempts, but at the end of the day there's no permanent progress until you win! and i just like that better. makes me get more acquainted with the level at hand, and makes it feel like less of a commitment to my silly brain.

and to be perfectly clear, i'm not saying my experiences are in any way objective, this is just my thoughts coming from my brain and my opinions coming from my own observations!

anyway, time to keep having butterfly planet stuck in my head despite being presented with a much more clearly banger track in the dlc because of the key design differences between the two levels