#……seeing those pages I can’t help thinking how I was able to do them LOL

[rakiah]

✨👑Coronation day 👑✨

R-18 LeoVil comic done in September, around 70 colors pages.

Digital book can be purchase HERE 💕

[mellowyellow236]

TWST Boys General HC’s!

Just some HCs for the TWST boys. No real theme to them or anything, and it’s mostly self-indulgent. Some characters will have much more than others, but I made sure everyone has at least one (You can clearly see what my favorite dorm and characters are lol-). Mostly fluff, but I’ll state before the headcanon if it’s angst, or if there’s a trigger warning, in red. Requests are open if anyone wants :) All writing under the cut!

Heartslabyul:  

Riddle Rosehearts - 

Gets very tense about things being dirty because he grew up in a really sterile environment with his mom. Sometimes, he gets worked up over something and cleans to calm down, it’s probably one of his healthier behaviors even if he has to work on not getting tense when it isn’t perfect. 

His favorite sweets are obviously strawberry tarts, but in second place is red velvet cake or cupcakes. He likes the color and thinks it tastes like chocolate. 

He likes trying all of the sweets Trey makes, and sometimes does taste tests like he’s judging them in a bake show. He lines them up, tries each of them, and thinks about what he likes and dislikes about each. 

Also, he got a hedgehog plushie from Trey, and since his overblot, he has slept with it every night as a form of comfort. 

Angst, Trigger Warning for EDs - Yeah, this one is pretty self-explanatory. Considering his devil of an almond mom and how thin he looks, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had one. 

Trey Clover - 

He’s a huge stress baker. He panics about the Prefect and Aduece duo being in trouble and suddenly the fridge is full of various baked goods. 

All of the Heartslabyul first years call him dad, but only a few to his face. Those few are Ace and Deuce, who started it. 

Trey loves trying out new recipes, and he wants to publish his own recipe book one day. 

Cater Diamond - 

Cater loves spicy food, which is canon, but my headcanon is that he makes his own spice blends to use on his food. 

Cater and Trey used to have weekly cooking/baking nights when they were roommates. Cater would cook something, and then Trey would bake something. They’d eat together and watch a movie in their dorm room. 

Angst - I subscribe to the theory that Cater was the housewarden before Riddle. Headcanon that now he thinks that Riddle’s overblot was his fault. Cater wasn’t able to help out his underclassmen when this started, since he was too weak to be able to win, and after he lost Riddle spiraled even harder down the road of a tyrant.

Ace Trapolla - 

Ace genuinely loves the hedgehogs but hates taking care of them because he can’t say no to giving them treats, and then Riddle gets mad. He’s gotten much better at hiding it when he does, though. (Riddle’s just gotten better at not getting mad about) 

He loves reading those really bad romance novels where you have to pause every few pages to figure out what just happened and why. He has a secret account he used to write fanfiction on but stopped after his brother found out and teased him over it. 

Deuce Spade - 

He calls his mom every day at the same time. He does not let anything stop him and Ace likes to stand next to him and make fake moaning sounds to annoy him. 

Angst, trigger warning for recovering addiction - Deuce used to be a delinquent, and so he did some bad stuff. He’s currently recovering from some kind of addiction, although he’s doing much better now. He has weekly meetings with Riddle about it, who uses the knowledge his mother made him learn about it to help him. They bond over not wanting to disappoint their mothers and how they want to get good grades to make them proud, even if it’s healthy for Duece but unhealthy for Riddle. 

Savanaclaw: 

Leona Kingscholar - 

His favorite place to nap is the botanical gardens because it’s warm and sunny, like a cat. 

Back when they were kids, Falena/Farena(Eng. Vs Jap. name) used to braid his hair. They used to put in little beads and things for fun. 

Agnst - When they were kids they were super close, but then Farena and Leona grew apart because Leona didn’t want to ‘hold his brother back’ after getting to know what everyone thought of him. Farena still calls him every week to try and talk, even back when Checka was a baby/toddler. Leona would never admit it but he listens to every voicemail that gets sent. 

Ruggie Bucchi - 

His favorite kind of donuts are the lemon-flavored ones. He likes that they're tangy and not as blindingly sweet. In second place is blueberry, and third is jelly-filled. 

Ruggie had been pushed to babysit Checka for Leona, and they went to a fast food place together. Ruggie taught Checka how to dine and dash. (And then came back with Leona who paid for their meals)

Jack Howl - 

He does a morning run every day and then has a big breakfast. He sees it as the most important meal of the day and never skips it, no matter what. He started doing it with the Prefect so that way he could make sure they were eating well/enough, and now all the first years meet up for breakfast on the weekends. Grim+Prefect bring tuna, Epel brings apple juice or pie, the ADuece Duo brings whatever Trey has left over, Sebek brings some fae dish made with normal ingredients so they can try it, Ortho brings various ingredients and Jack cooks whatever Ortho brings. 

Octavinelle: 

Azul Ashengrotto - 

Angst, Trigger Warning for EDs - Azul has really bad eating disorder tendencies. Like, ‘Well, I had a singular chocolate so now I can’t eat dinner’ bad. He’s working on stopping it, but right now he can’t do much about it. However, the one thing that often works is Jade’s mushroom dishes. Jade started looking for them and told Azul that they were healthy, so now they’re his safe food. Floyd wishes it was anything else at this point, he's so sick of mushrooms, but he'll let Jade cook them for Azul even if Floyd doesn't touch them. 

Jade Leech - 

Jade doesn’t have a favorite mushroom because he feels like if he picks one that makes the others less special. He had one for like a week when he first came to NRC, but felt so guilty he stopped liking it more than the others. (It was Amanita phalloides/the death cap mushroom)

Floyd Leech - 

Floyd thinks really hard about what nicknames to give people. He tries to get something that matches them, and who they are based on what he knows (Ex; Ace is often ‘crabby’, Kalim has a ‘fluffy’ personality like a sea otter, etc.) The exceptions are the Prefect and Riddle, who he just saw and went “Yeah. Shrimpy and Goldfishie. Shrimp posture and red hair. That’s what they are.” He doesn’t give nicknames to Azul and Jade because he believes that they’re both so interesting they could never be categorized as anything but their name. 

Scarabia: 

Kalim Al-Asim - 

Kalim loves jewelry and wearing it. He often gives it as gifts to Jamil, and it’s why he has so many golden accessories all over. Kalim proves the gold, but Jamil is often the one who picks out the design. 

Since Jamil’s overblot, Kalim’s started learning how to do stuff on his own. So far, he can (mostly) clean a window and (kind of) cook! Specifically, he’s learned how to cook pasta and add seasonings to soup. Not the best, but he’s trying. 

Jamil Viper - 

Jamil has so many snake things because of his last name and he hates it just because he's so sick of them at this point. He often trades gifts with Najma, so he ends up with a bunch of star-themed things as well. On his bedframe back home, he’s got little glowing star stickers. 

Pomefiore: 

Vil Schoenheit - 

He used to buy up a bunch of these Neige necklaces that were super breakable, and whenever he got mad, he would throw them at the wall until he calmed down. Then he cleans up and thinks about what happened and how he feels. Although, it’s a surprisingly healthy way of getting his anger out, especially considering the more violent nature of throwing the necklaces.

Rook Hunt - 

Rook has a ‘secret’ fanfiction account that he uses to write fanfics of Vil and Neige, sometimes together as friends and sometimes. Everything is oddly on point and both fandoms hotly debate what it means when he has a certain character bring up an event he never expanded upon and they never mentioned. His fics even have their fics written about them, including his “OCs” who are actually just his other classmates who aren’t as well known. 

Epel Felmeir - 

Epel secretly loves to bake but never did it pre-NRC because it wasn’t “manly enough” of a hobby. Now that Vil’s worried about excess sugar causing breakouts and stuff, though, he does it much more often out of spite. (Ironically, Vil thinks it’s great because Epel’s expressing himself naturally and not trying to conform to being manly or not)

Ignihyde: 

Idia Shroud - 

He likes to play the TWST version of the Sims and Stardew Valley and gets really into modding them. He likes to make characters of all of his favorite people and then talk to them. They’re hyper-realistic to how they act and look too, to the point where it’s either really creepy or romantic depending on how you look at it. 

Ortho Shroud - 

Angst - Ortho likes to listen to music and look at art because they’re the only things that he can’t automatically compute. He can do a math problem in seconds, but he’ll never be able to have the human ability to connect to art on an emotional level, so he consumes as much as he can in hopes of finding a way to experience it. 

Diasonia: 

Malleus Dracona - 

He has a dragon horde, but instead of gold, which he already has a tone of and doesn’t care for, it’s full of grotesques, pictures of gargoyles, and various gifts from his friends and father. He tried to go to sleep on it back when he was little, but nearly crushed some stuff, so Lilia decided to knit him a big blanket to use instead. Later on, Silver and Sebek also pitched in, then the Prefect, and so now Malleus has a horde and a pile of snuggly things to sleep on. 

Lilia Vanrouge - 

He calls the prefect ‘beastie’, which I am unsure of if this is canon or not. It could just be a very popular headcanon I’ve seen. 

I think it’s canon but not explicitly stated so I’ll state it as a headcanon; Lilia was in a polyamorous relationship with both Raverne and Meleanor. I ship it very hard and I need to say it. 

Silver “Vanrouge” - 

My main headcanon is that he listed Lilia as his father on all school documents. Not legal guardian, but father. He did tell Lilia, but Malleus saw and did the same thing afterward. 

Sebek Zigvolt - 

Sebek has a diary that he often writes in, and by often I mean almost every night. Surprisingly, most of it isn’t about Malleus, but rather his everyday life and school. He talks about his friends, and how classes are going, and even occasionally praises his various classmates for small things. It might seem out of character, but it’s just a place for him to vent the feelings that he has that he doesn’t want to talk about to others. 

Ramshackle:

Grim - 

Grim loves tuna, which is canon, but it’s not his actual favorite fish in terms of taste. It’s just that tuna was the only thing that the Prefect ever got for him ever since he first requested it because he was in the mood. The fact that they cared so much to get him his “favorite” after he requested it turned tuna into his favorite. 

RSA+NBC: 

Che’nya - 

Che’nya always makes sure to take really good care of his teeth and is very proud of his smile. He thinks it makes him look adorable, and it does. 

Neige Leblanche - 

Neige loves sewing and knitting, he thinks that it’s so much fun to make cute things. He’s worn them out, and often posts about them online. He doesn’t have enough free time to make his own patterns, but he hopes to be able to get good enough to do so one day. 

Neige likes acting, but he loves singing and dancing. He doesn’t get to do it as often because he mostly acts, but it’s his favorite thing to do. SDC was so much fun for him, he really wanted to get to perform and meet all of the performers from different schools. 

Because Snow White’s voice is so high-pitched, I HC him as a tenor by nature, although he taught himself to sing much higher notes, maybe even those of a normal soprano. (A tenor is the higher, often male voice in most choirs and a soprano is the higher, often female voice- It’s a bad explanation but it basically means he’s got a higher vocal range/voice than some of the other characters when he sings.)

Bittersweet - Neige is just as much of a cinnamon roll offline as he is online. He donates a bunch to charity, and considering his backstory, I think that most of it goes to orphaned or helpless children like him, who don’t have an adult around to take care of them. He hopes to make sure that no children have to go into the workforce young like he did to support the dwarves and himself, even if he knows that it’s not realistic. 

Angst - Neige never wanted to go into acting but had to because he was good at it and he couldn’t find any other well-paying jobs for children, so he could support himself and his seven friends. He loves his job, yes, but sometimes he wishes that he could’ve been a normal teen doing his school’s plays or community theater rather than worrying about having to stay on top of trends and stuff. 

Rollo Flamme - 

Already mentioned this in a previous post, but Rollo is an all-or-nothing kind of guy when it comes to crushes, but it’s a bit more than that. In almost everything, he puts either all of his time and energy into it or he just doesn’t care. Friendships, schoolwork, relationships, even little things like chores, he does it all or he doesn’t do it. 

Other Event/Side Characters: 

Checka Kingscholar - 

Checka loves visiting his uncle, so much so that he spends at least a weekend at NRC a month. It’s his favorite part of the month, and he loves that Leona will give him treats and find some time to play with him. (Leona clears his entire schedule for the weekends Checka comes out even though he’d never admit it) 

Najma Viper - 

I think Kalim has a canonic cousin based on Jasmine, so I HC Najma as being her handmaiden. Kind of like Dalia to Jasmine in the live-action Aladin. 

[summercourtship]

𝖍𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙 | 𝖉𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖞 '𝖏𝖊𝖉 𝖔𝖑𝖘𝖊𝖓' 𝖏𝖔𝖍𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖝 𝖋!𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 | 18+

I started writing this in fall 2020. At it's most ambitious, it was going to be a multi-chapter fic but that obviously didn't and won't happen so here: have it reimagined as a one-shot. You might be able to tell where it would have expanded into a larger story, but I tried to condense it. If anything that is here is eerily similar to something else I've written, it's because I've probably taken it from this draft lol. Also TBH I'm trying to not be as explicit in my sex scenes because I just feel more comfortable writing that way. Which seems like the opposite of a goal: for years, I've been trying to become better at writing super explicit scenes and now I'm trying to reel it in and make it (hopefully) match the rest of my prose. IDK. Happy Halloween!

brief summary: A one-shot about being stalked by your coworker who is also the serial killer terrorizing the town. warnings: slightly dubious consent due to threat of death, stalking, horror themes, knife play, PIV sex, some dirty talk | word count: 4025

danny 'jed olsen' johnson masterpost | read on ao3

You smell him before you see him. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and the unspecific musk of his cologne. On anyone else, you’d hate it. But with him, it’s become an almost comforting scent, indicative of one of your favorite people’s presence. When he rounds the corner and comes into your view, you can’t help the tiny smile that crosses your face.

“Hi Jed!” You chirp as he comes to a stop in front of your desk, placing his coffee on the corner of your desk to free his hands as he rummages in his side satchel bag. He gives you a smile in return, pulling out a thin file folder and flipping it open. 

“Here are those photos you wanted me to get,” He hands over a small stack of pictures, all developed and ready to go. Last week, you asked him to take the pictures on a whim, thinking you might just have to go down yourself with your crappy hand-me-down camera and snap a picture for the article you’re working on. But, to your surprise, he agreed quickly. 

The article isn’t anything special- in fact it’s quite the opposite. A filler piece for the middle section of the paper that no one really read. Despite this, you couldn’t bring yourself to bullshit the article, and still put forth an unnecessary amount of effort into the piece. No one would read it now, but perhaps it could be added to your portfolio for when you finally left this town. 

The photos are good- which isn’t a surprise considering who took them. Everything Jed did seemed to turn out well, even when he didn’t try. You wonder what he looks like doing something he’s actually passionate about.

“I didn’t think you’d have these ready so soon!” You say, flipping through the four pictures he handed over. You’d have to choose one- you’re lucky they’re even letting you include a picture in the meaningless article. “I mean, aren’t you busy with Ghostface?” 

He gives a small exhale, like he’s laughing at his own inside joke. “A little bit.” He pauses. “Maybe I wanted a break to go take some pictures of the duck pond in the park. Riveting stuff you’re writing about.”

“Excuse me, but the purported existence of an otter in the duck pond is very important news. Would be front-page worthy if there wasn’t someone else taking up the headlines.” You laugh before stopping for a moment, thinking about what you just said. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. People are dead and I’m making jokes about an otter.” 

“Don’t worry about it, everyone copes in different ways.” He smiles down at you. “Especially when you have no idea if you’re next.” 

“That’s morbid, but fair.” You say, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You don’t notice how his eyes flick to follow the movement. “Anyways, thanks again for the pictures. I will have to find a way to repay you.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He smiles again, different this time. This is the smile that makes your stomach swoop and your heart skip a beat. Your face heats and you stop thinking for a second, but you press on.

“No, please-” 

“I wouldn’t want to put you out like that. Times are hard.” 

“I- okay.” You sit back, looking at him. He nods and starts to leave, but the part in you that insisted on somehow repaying him took over and you were speaking up once more.

“Jed!” He turns and looks back, eyebrows raised. “Um, at least let me take you out for coffee? Just as a thanks, not repayment.” He thinks about it for a moment, your heart racing as you wait with bated breath for his answer. If he didn’t say yes, you’d never be able to look at him again. You might have to leave town immediately.

“Sure, but let’s make it a date instead.” He gives you a tiny smile and a wink that you barely register, before turning and walking away. Giddy, you sit back in your chair, trying not to hide your face in your hands. Instead you focus on the pictures, flipping through them to distract yourself from the newfound excitement in your veins.

____

Despite the fact that there was a masked stalker-murderer prowling the streets of your town, you felt no fear walking home. Maybe it’s a remnant of your teenage “nothing can hurt me” years. Maybe it’s just your stupidity rearing its ugly head at the worst time. 

Or maybe you just like the thrill of it all.

You had listened to the warnings- check behind you when you walk, keep an eye out for anything abnormal, lock your windows, lock your doors, don’t hang out places alone. However, you followed them a little haphazardly. You didn’t engage in any behaviors that could be misconstrued as inviting danger into your life, but you also didn’t necessarily allow the paranoia to get to your head.

If you did, you might have died from sheer terror and helplessness. Or perhaps you would’ve been more careful, and would’ve definitely noticed that you had already unknowingly disregarded the warnings.

Someone was following you.

And they had been following you for a while.

____

You wake up suddenly. It’s like that sometimes- not gently, or gradually. You’re just... awake. Brain racing to catch up with your surroundings, you sit up. No clock around, but you’d hazard a guess that it’s somewhere around 3AM. Running a hand through your hair, you sigh, the dream you’d been having already disappearing from your memory. Plopping back onto your pillow, you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come back to you.

It’s funny how the air conditioning can sound like someone breathing, deep and slow. You vaguely register that something isn’t right here, but sleep takes over before you can linger on that thought. 

__

The best coffee shop in town is a small, cluttered shop off of the main road. It’s tucked away between a barbershop and a vintage store, far enough away from the main street that any tourists wouldn’t come by it. (Not that there were many of those now that a serial killer prowled the streets at night.)

“You okay?”

You look up from where you’d been staring into your coffee, even though it was probably too late in the day to be drinking it, the sky already darkening with the approaching evening. But your body was thick with exhaustion for reasons you weren’t quite sure and you needed to finish another pointless article when you went home. Jed had his own coffee, so at least you weren’t alone in your desire for evening caffeination. 

“Yeah, I’m just… trying to not psych myself out about everything going on. The news says it's good to be careful but I know I’d just end up taking it too far and becoming paranoid.” 

“No one knows how to deal with this.” He says, simply. You only nod in agreement and take a sip from the coffee. 

A breaking news report on the TV in the corner of the room catches your eye. GHOSTFACE STRIKES AGAIN screams the caption at the bottom of the screen. You silently nudge Jed and direct his attention towards it. For a moment, it looks like the echo of a smile crosses his face, but it’s gone before you can truly absorb it. His face is stony, and he looks back at you. 

“Are you gonna write about that?” You ask. 

“Tomorrow.” 

“What number is this?”

“Six.” He answers without hesitation. You force yourself to take a deep breath to try and calm the beating of your heart. Every time the news breaks, it feels like the first time. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to hearing about another brutal murder, and maybe that’s a good thing. It means you aren’t desensitized to it yet. You only realize that Jed is watching you carefully when he asks, again: “Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Why are you so worried about me? You could be next too.”

“I think I can handle it if it comes to that.” He took a sip from his coffee to hide his smile. If you found this odd, you didn’t remark on it. “At least let me walk you home tonight.” 

You stared at him, unsure why you were suddenly uneasy, why an alarm was going off somewhere in the back of your head. Then you decided that it was stupid. You knew Jed. He took pictures of the duck pond for you. Hardly anything to be frightened by. 

“That would be nice, thanks.” 

___

After a week of waking up in the middle of the night, you were certain there was something else going on that your body was trying to tell you. When your eyes open, once again barely past two A.M., you sit up in your bed instead of trying to go back to sleep right away like you normally do. The shadows in your room seemed deeper tonight, your curtains blocking out most of the light from the street. 

You stare into the corner, hoping that the shape manifesting in the darkness was just your eyes playing tricks on you and you could go back to sleep. But you knew better. Slowly, your eyes adjust to the low light and you’re able to make out the dark figure standing in the shadows. 

“...Go away.” 

Slowly, with the creak of leather, the figure shook its head. You take a careful breath, trying not to let your fear show. But it must be palpable in the air, there's no way it wasn’t. 

“What do you want?” 

The headlights of a car driving by shined into your room for a brief second, illuminating the figure and the mask he wore like a bolt of lightning struck down outside. It only confirmed what you had been afraid of since you’d woken to see a dark shadow in your corner, as his mask was barely visible in the dark room. 

But it seems that Ghostface has, indeed, marked you as his next victim. 

You move, bolting out of bed. He must want to give chase because he lets you fling your door open and run down the hall, his steady footsteps following you. But he catches up to you quickly, his body slamming into yours and pressing you against the wall, his arms wrapping around your front. Before you can begin to struggle, the thin edge of a blade is pressed against your throat, effectively stopping you in your tracks. You can only respond with a choked cry.  

The hard length of his body presses against your back, a firm barrier between you and your freedom. He adjusts slightly, allowing you to feel the other hard length pressing against you, though you can only barely feel it through the layers of his outfit. But you know it’s there. 

You exhale shakily, and you don’t know if it's from fear or your own arousal. (Or both). 

His chest hits your back as he breathes, standing still with you as your mind tries to catch up with everything that has happened in the past few seconds.

“Let me go.” You whisper. His arms flex around you, squeezing slightly. “Please.”

To your surprise, his grip loosens. 

“Call the cops and I’ll skin you alive.” He hisses in your ear, his voice rough from the modulator he’s using. 

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing frozen in your hallway, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Why wasn’t he killing you? Why wasn’t your blood splattered on the walls, why did he let you go?

Despite his warning, you did consider calling the cops. But really, what would they do? Ghostface was gone. There was no evidence aside from the thin line of red on your throat where he’d pressed the knife, and even that was fading quickly.

Instead, you return to your room, curling under the covers and staring at the wall until the room brightens with the dawn. 

___

You had no idea if Ghostface continued to watch you. You were certain he was. You’d come home to things in obviously different positions. It was like he was taunting you, begging you to do something about it.

You simply put the objects back where they belonged and continued about your day.  

___

“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” Jed asks, a few dates later when you’re sitting on your couch with him and perched on the edge of the cushion, your muscles tense like you were about to take off running, and he seems so understanding in that moment that you almost blurt out what has been happening for the past two weeks. But fear takes a hold of you, and instead you simply shake your head. 

“No, no. There’s nothing.”

___

The second time you actually see Ghostface, you’re barely prepared for it. You knew, deep down, that he’d be back at some point and yet you were still surprised when you arrived home to an open window, your sheer curtains fluttering in the hot wind as the humidity from outside filled the room. 

You drop your bag, staring at the open window like it was a rabid animal that was going to attack. Then, slowly, you turn your head to the corner, where you can feel his eyes on you. 

Even though you can’t see his eyes through the mask, you can feel the moment you make eye contact with him. 

Ghostface starts walking towards you and you don’t know why you don’t move. The door is right behind you and yet you stand there, watching as he approaches you with slow and measured steps as the streetlight from outside glints off the knife he holds loosely in his hand. You swallow thickly. 

Then, when he’s only a step away and after you’ve had ample time to turn around and run away, he grabs the side of your head, his gloved hand threading through your hair. Finally, your brain catches up to your situation and you struggle against his hold. You vaguely register him shushing you from behind the mask but your heart is racing too fast in your ears to really pick up on it. 

As a response to your thrashing, he places the flat edge of the knife against your cheek, a silent threat that stills your movement. You stare at him, stuck between his knife and his hand. (You should’ve run, why didn’t you run?)

He clicks his tongue, the noise distorted by the voice modulator in his mask as he shakes his head.

“Be good for me, won’t you?”  

Something shifts-- maybe it’s the wind from the open window or maybe he leans in a fraction closer but you suddenly catch a whiff of his scent. He must’ve been covering it up with a heavier cologne in his previous visits, because you would have easily recognized this from the first visit. Stale cigarette smoke, coffee, and an unidentifiable musk of his (usual) cologne.

It’s like being dunked in ice cold water after a warm day in the sun. You stare up at Ghostface, your brain quickly piecing together all the things you hadn’t consciously picked up on. The coincidences, the hints, the tiny behaviors that reminded you, always, of someone else. 

You pull yourself out of his grip, and you don’t know if he expected you because you’re able to make it halfway across the room on shaky legs before he grabs you again. Your legs buckle beneath you at the force of his body against yours and he follows you to the floor, roughly turning you over so you’re laying on your back with him perched above you. 

Heart racing, you reach up and yank his mask off, too quick for him to react. You blink at him, confirming what you’d just figured out. What you’d known, really, this entire time.

“Jed.” 

For a second, his face is blank. Then, he starts to laugh, pressing his weight down on your body when you start to struggle again. 

“I was wondering when you’d figure it out. Was hoping you wouldn’t, really, but.” He shrugged. “Does it make you feel better, or worse, to know that you weren’t actually cheating on me?”

“I never did anything with Ghostf- you.”

“But I know you well enough to know that you wanted to. I felt how you pressed back against me that night when you first noticed me in your room.” He leans down, getting in your face. His eyes are so cold, not at all the eyes of the Jed Olsen you knew. Was that even his name, or was that a lie too? “Did you want Ghostface to hold you down and fuck you? Was Jed not cutting it out for you? You needed the big bad serial killer, didn’t you?” 

He places his gloved hand over your throat, noting how your breath catches. “Of course you did.” His hand moves down, laying over your left breast. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to actually touch you. It’s only then you notice the rhythm he’s keeping with his other hand, the one that’s still resting on the side of his leg. He’s feeling your heartbeat, though his eyes are locked onto yours. 

“I didn’t. I don’t.” 

“You say that, but-” He peers closer at your eyes. “Your eyes are telling me something else.” He leans back and smugly offers his explanation. “You know that eyes dilate when you’re sexually aroused.”

“I-” You swallow, falling silent. What can you say? Any denial would be a lie. He continues to look down on you, face passive. 

“I don’t want to kill you.” He interrupts your silence. Then he’s quiet. Thoughtful, almost. A glimmer of the Jed you knew coming through in his hesitation. “Not yet, at least.”

“Oh-”

“But I can’t exactly let you go on knowing who I am.”

“...I won’t tell anyone.” He raises an eyebrow, looking like he might burst into laughter again. “Promise.”

What power did you have to promise something when you were the one under him, the memory of the edge of his knife still cold on your cheek? 

“Who would you tell?” He said, causing you to furrow your brow. “You think that Jed Olsen is my real name? I’ve thought through everything before you or anyone else could even try to.”

“But-”

“Why would I let you go, when your death will be so…” he leaned down again, his hips rolling slightly against yours. It’s achingly difficult not to press up against it. “...delicious?”

“I don’t want to die.” 

“None of you do.” He tutted. His hand that had been laying on your breast moves to the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling the fabric up to expose your stomach. You shivered at the feeling of leather on your skin, goosebumps trailing after his fingers as he slid his hand back towards your breasts. 

“Front clasping bra.” He says under his breath, raising his eyebrows at you. “Were you expecting company?”

“No.” You glance down. You could offer an explanation like oh, it’s almost laundry day or I just like this bra, but you stay silent. Watching as he unclasps it.  

Jed- though that isn’t his name, is it?- removes his gloves, tossing them somewhere in your living room. You start to turn your head to see where they landed but he grabs your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him again. 

“Stay still.” 

It’s then that you notice his knife, back in his hand, and watch, with bated breath, as he drags the tip over the skin between your breasts, not hard enough to even sting. Down, under where your skin creases, back up around the right breast until he lays the blade flat against you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with your breath, though you try to control it for fear of being nicked by the knife. 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

He hums, tracing the point of the blade around your nipple and watching as it hardens. 

“Tell you what-” He moves the knife to the other breast. “-we can postpone your death.”

“And what do you want instead?” You ask, as if it wasn’t obvious from the way he was dragging his blade across your exposed chest or the obvious erection pressing against you when he rolled his hips. 

“I think you know.” He raised his eyebrows. Was there a choice? And even if you did have a choice where the option wasn’t death, would you choose any differently? 

He pinches your nipple, prompting a shaky acceptance from you. “Fine.” You barely bite back a please before he slides down your body, his hands running down your chest to the hem of your pants. The knife returns to cut off the button (unnecessarily) and he roughly pulls your pants down your legs, his nails scratching your skin. 

He slots himself between your legs, now with only the thin fabric of your underwear and his clothes separating him from you. Even that doesn’t last long, as he takes the side of your underwear and rips through it with the knife before doing the same to the other side, ripping the fabric away from your body. 

Leaning back, he starts to fiddle with the many belts and buckles around his waist. You watch, your legs falling apart slightly. His eyes drop to your core, his tongue darting out to lick his lip at the sight of your wet cunt. 

“For someone who seemed so averse to this, you’re pretty wet.” He comments. Before you can respond, he’s pushing into you, having pulled his cock from the complicated trappings of his outfit. 

You groan at the intrusion, the slight pinch of pain before you adjust as he continues to push into you. He gives you barely a moment to breathe before he pulls out and begins thrusting back into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts as he fills you, his cock thick in your cunt. You can only whimper in response, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. 

He pulls your leg up, placing it over his shoulder as he continues to fuck into you, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper inside of you. You curse, throwing your head back. You’re certain that you’ll have a rash on your back and ass from the carpet rubbing against your skin but the bursts of pleasure from his cock and his fingers are enough to distract you from that for the moment. 

“Come on, cum on my cock-” He grunts, his hips rutting down against you, his fingers pressing harder against your clit as he practically bullied your body into orgasming for him. Your back arched, hands flying to pull him down to you. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his cloak, scratching against the leather as he urges you on with whispered praise and degradation. 

With a final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you, low curses hissed through his teeth. 

You lay, chest heaving as he pulls out, wincing at the sudden feeling of emptiness. The sweat that covers your skin begins to cool. 

“Remember what I said last time about calling the cops.” 

You don’t respond, only clipping your bra back together and pulling your shirt back down over your chest. After all, what could the police do at this point? There were very few signs of a struggle in your apartment. And, as you found out the next day, Jed had gone out after and killed someone else. At best, the police wouldn’t believe that it had actually been Ghostface in your apartment. At worst, they’d think you were in on it. 

And, when you went into work the next day to find a dark polaroid picture of you, asleep, from a few weeks ago- before you’d even asked Jed to take those pictures of the duck pond- with a red heart scrawled at the bottom, you began to think that maybe the worst assumption wasn’t that far off anymore. 

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#53: The Dossier (1.06)

gif cred: @nerd4music

It looks like Jadis and I unfortunately do have something in common - we both be writing pages and pages about Richonne 😋...

So after the pretty theme song, Rick opens doors where Pearl is waiting and happy to see him. She wants Rick to tell her what happened now that he’s given the others a debriefing. Rick says there was turbulence and their helicopter was struck by lightning. And then Rick says, “We were going down over water and Bethune shoved me out. She saved my life. Not hers, mine.”

And y’all, the way Rick can’t help but have his tone and expression soften when talking about Dana Bethune. 😇 As has been established, it's tough for him to play the role of Man Who Is Not Madly In Love With The New Consignee. 😋

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

I like how the story Rick crafted is one where Dana saved his life. That Bethune sure is a little superhero for Sergeant Major Grimes the way she stays coming to the rescue lol. But it’s fitting because, of all the fabricated parts of their stories to Thorne, the truest truth is that Michonne really did and does save Rick’s life. 

Rick thanks Pearl for bringing Dana in. But Michonne still has Pearl in her feelings so she doesn’t want to be associated as she scowls and says, “No you brought her in.” And Rick sure did - years ago at a prison. 😊 Michonne even thanked him for it. 😇

Rick, never above pulling the Okafor card with Pearl, says “Why don’t we just say it was Okafor. That we were just keeping his thing going.” Pearl and Rick look at each other for a moment as Pearl seems like her days of being loyal to Okafor are over.

And as Rick and Pearl looked at each other I was like - Pearl, you can’t tell that your brother Rick appears real rejuvenated after that helicopter crash? Like the man was looking fine and full of life after the time he’s spent with his wife. But Pearl never did know Rick like she thought so she still hasn’t put anything together yet. 

Pearl notes how her thoughts on giving up have changed as she and Rick walk down a hall. She acknowledges how she and Rick gave up a lot to be here and then she sounds extra culty when she shares that she now realizes that giving up can be a sign of strength and being committed to something bigger than oneself. Had me looking at her truly like...

She says, “Giving up made me understand what we’re really doing here. Hopefully, you will understand too.” Rick says he wants to understand…and he does, just not for the reasons Pearl thinks. Because he and his wife have a whole plan to expose what the CRM are really doing here.

Pearl says she’s glad Rick made it because it is up to them but not like how Okafor thought. Pearl suggests Okafor died because he was never fully present with the CRM - but actually, Okafor died because Michonne and Nat had to get their lick back. 👌🏽

And then Pearl says that they are meant to be a part of the CRM and have to let go of Okafor’s 'BS.' Rick tells Pearl, “Well show me the other way” and Pearl is happy to hear that as she walks and he follows. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Then we get to see what Michonne is up to as she sneaks into the CRM. She’s stealthy making her way in and is quickly able to get into Jadis room which is covered in art. I feel like an appreciation for art is the one thing Jadis and Michonne had in common.

You could say they also had thinking Rick is fine in common which is fair, but as many have noted, there aren’t any paintings of Rick in Jadis room and I agree with those who felt like that could suggest her suggestive come-ons with Rick had a lot more to do with liking that it made him uncomfortable than actual attraction. 

Pearl takes Rick to the woods where Beale kills walkers in solitude. She tells Rick that Beale wants to talk to him and before Rick approaches Beale, Pearl seems to want him to understand how eye-opening and 'life-changing' this next encounter with the Major General will be so she tells him, “Rick, this is it.” But like...

So then Rick greets Beale with a salute and Beale gives him more insight into himself and his perspective. Throughout talking to Rick in the woods, Beale places emphasis on how they are 'the dead ones.' That was true for Rick for a long while but now he has Michonne back and has returned back to being the ones who live. 👌🏽

Beale is humbled by Rick returning when he didn’t have to and so he says he’ll share some time and some info with him. 

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

In Jadis' room, Michonne searches through Jadis belongings and finally spots a wiry silver cat sculpture tucked away in a corner near a drawing of Father Gabriel.

Jadis would put the dossier in a cat statue after knowing Rick took her cat statue all those years ago and wouldn’t give it back because it belonged to Michonne now lol.

I do like the choice to have the dossier - this paper that caused so many complications - be placed inside a cat sculpture. Seeing Michonne holding it was a nice callback to the cat sculptures she’s had in the past - the one Rick got her from the heaps in Season 7 and the too-damn gorgeous rainbow cat she got when bonding with Carl in the OG Grimes Family 2.0 episode Clear. 🥲

Michonne is able to remove the document and has an emotional response as she reads it. I'm glad they showed us portions of the dossier so I could read some of it too. And upon reading it…y’all, Jadis was out here straight snitching. 😑

The way she was writing pages about Rick and Michonne I really was like…nawt Jadis writing her own twisted version of a Reveling in Richonne post. 🙃

Some of the things I caught from the letter is Jadis admitting that she had an arrangement with Rick after trading him when he was injured. She mentions Alexandria Safe Zone and that Rick is actually an A. She writes that, “Rick led his own alliance of communities.”

Then I do like seeing that she talks about Michonne as Rick’s wife even tho first and foremost she needs to keep his wife’s name out of her mouth and dossiers.👌🏽

gif cred: @taiturner

She wrote, “Rick’s wife Michonne is the individual known as Dana Bethune.” She exposes that Michonne was searching for Rick and shot down the helicopter that killed Okafor, not knowing Rick was aboard.

Jadis acknowledges Richonne is a force to be reckoned with as she writes that Rick is a natural-born leader with several strategic abilities and strengths that make him a “formidable opponent.” And is. 💯

And she again refers to Michonne as Rick’s wife and says, “Her unwavering loyalty to Rick and her relentless determination make her an equally dangerous adversary.” She really said look CRM, Rick's wife is ride or die and nothing to play with because when she sets a goal, she persists and achieves it. 💅🏽

gif cred: @michonnegrimes

Basically, this dossier can be summed up as Jadis knowing that Rick and Michonne are the baddest to ever do it, and she's trying to tell the CRM...

She writes that the community Richonne built is well organized and she says that destroying Richonne is "necessary" because they pose a grave threat to the CRM's operations and mission.

And one last time let me say - Jadis, you beast. 😒 Like the fact that she had to complicate Richonne’s life even in death by writing this dossier and advocating for their destruction. She got what she deserved in ep 5. Honestly, better than she deserved. 

So then Michonne emotionally tears the dossier up into tiny pieces and she too is pained by the fact that this little paper caused so many issues and nearly kept her from reuniting her family. Its an impactful moment as she finally gets to destroy the very thing that tried to destroy her and those she loves.

gif cred: @coolpartytimefan

And then she picks up the pieces and gets ready to head out when the first wrench is thrown in the plan as a soldier realizes someone is inside Jadis’ room.

The woman enters and Michonne takes her out and well…one thing about Michonne and Rick - they don’t exactly have a crisis of conscience when it comes to killing if they have to.

gif cred: @nerd4music

So then Beale goes into his speech with Rick, convinced that after their talk everything will change for him. Beale asks Rick, “What’s the worst thing you did to make sure someone else survived?” And then they cut to some of Rick Grimes’ most pivotal and classic TWD moments.

They show when Rick killed Shane in season 2, killed that prisoner in season 3, killed the termites at the trough in season 5, and the montage concludes with Rick’s absolute craziest and most iconic kill when he took a bite out of Joe the Claimers throat. 

gif cred: @ex0rin

Rick knows that’s gotta be the number one wildest thing he’s done, and so he says, “I killed someone with my teeth. Like they do.” I love the delivery of this line. 😊 And not many can say they took a page out of the walker handbook like that man Rick Grimes.

gif cred: @ex0rin

Beale says he’s sorry to hear that but Rick says he doesn’t have to be. As dark and insane of a mental place Rick had to go to take out that Claimer, he would do what he did 1000 times over if it meant saving his family.

Beale notes that Rick has made some extraordinary choices and shares that he’s given this echelon briefing 2,533 times but never to someone like Rick ‘Built Different’ Grimes.

...And Beale will soon realize why it was probably best to not give this speech to a soldier like Rick. 👌🏽😌

[vizual-static]

DBDPromptober Day 1: Mirrors

First fic! I'll be putting this up on AO3 in the @dbdpromptober collection too in a couple days, but I wanted to start the month off with posting on the proper prompt day, so that means we’re on tumblr for the time being lol. Enjoy!

Blurb: “Oi! You’ll rip your arm clean off! Stop that now!” Charles steps around the edge of the book-laden desk to stand beside Edwin, who looks up at him with his own irritation. The furrow of Edwin’s brow is almost petulant, and there’s a half second where Charles thinks he might rip his own arm off out of spite. Instead, he rolls his eyes and reluctantly stops struggling against the manacle pinning him to the mirror.

Rewrite of the Ep 2 Dandelion Sprites London office research scene: Now with more Coming Outs! 

–

Closet Mirror

“Those tomes are perfectly understandable with a bit of study– If I could just–” Edwin pulls harder against the rippling surface of the standing mirror, wrenching his arm until Charles can practically hear the tendons of his shoulder groaning in protest. 

Concern shoots through Charles, blotting out the frustration that’s been building up over the last hour of dead end research. “Oi! You’ll rip your arm clean off! Stop that now!” He steps around the edge of the book-laden desk to stand beside Edwin, who looks up at him with his own irritation. The furrow of his brow is almost petulant, and there’s a half second where Charles is worried Edwin might rip his own arm off out of spite. Instead, he rolls his eyes and reluctantly stops struggling against the manacle pinning him to the mirror.

Charles puts a hand on Edwin’s shoulder, almost rubbing lightly at the muscle as if to soothe the ache of his over stretched limb before catching himself. He claps him on the shoulder a second time to still his hand. “I know it's driving you mental, mate, but you can’t go tearing yourself to pieces over this, can you? Here, see for yourself. Nothing on page 181 of big, blue Blood and Bone.”

Charles pulls the thick book across the desk, cracks it open, and holds it between them both for Edwin to check for himself. Charles isn’t even annoyed that Edwin keeps insisting he didn’t read the book right. He can tell his friend’s been off all day since the Cat King laid his caging spell, and some of his current misplaced annoyance is obviously from that. So if Charles can soothe that irritation by holding up every book for Edwin to inspect himself with those beautiful blue eyes–

Not going there, mate. Charles thinks to himself as he hoists the book up a little higher. 

Edwin lets out another sigh while leaning in closer to peer at the book. “No, no. I trust that you read it thoroughly,” Edwin says by way of apology, though his eyes do scan over the pages because he really can’t help himself. “I just can’t stand not being able to access the whole collection.”

Charles understands the feeling well enough. He thinks he would also be more than a little twitchy if he was magically barred from his bag of tricks. But there’s something else about how worked up Edwin is that Charles can’t pin down, and he’s pretty sure a certain feline bastard is at the heart of it. 

“Honestly, Edwin, can’t you tell me what really happened with the Cat King?”

Edwin stiffens beside him, not looking up from the book. “I have told you the lot of it. He was uncivil, garish, and I was taken off guard when he spoke close to my ear.”

“He whispered in your ear?!” Something flares hot in Charles’s chest, the embers of this past hour’s frustration sparking back up in an instant. He tosses the book onto the desk and turns to face Edwin fully. 

Edwin coughs and looks away. “Really, Charles, it wasn’t like that.”

Charles’s alarm only grows. “Wasn’t like what, mate? What did he do to you?”

“He did not do anything other than what I have previously described. There is nothing more to it,” Edwin snaps, flicking a cold look back at Charles. 

Charles’s jaw clenches as the urge to push it rolls over him. Charles wants to know what happened in the three hours Edwin was gone. Charles wants to know what that cat freak did to throw ever-perceptive-Edwin off his rhythm so much that he allowed for a magical binding around his wrist. Charles wants to know what he did to put Edwin so on edge. 

He takes a deep breath to smother the flames in his chest. “Look, I’m just worried about you, mate. Gotta make sure the Cat King doesn’t try any more funny business, but I can’t know how to fight the bugger if you won’t tell me about his tricks, can I?”

Edwin seems to soften a little, the rigidness seeping from his posture as he lets his mirror-arm go slack. He lets out a short breath. “I do not believe we’ll need to fight him. He just– As I said, he caught me off guard.”

Charles isn’t itching for a fight (okay, maybe he is), but this resignation from Edwin rubs him the wrong way. “You also didn’t think we’d have to fight the ‘docile’ nymphs in the Case of Singing Lake. Always better to be prepared if we have time to plan and research an enemy’s weakness, though, yeah?” 

“He’s not that kind of threat.” Edwin shoots back too quickly before his mouth presses into a thin line, and Charles can tell he would be pressing his fists together if he had use of both his hands. His voice comes out strange and tight as he continues, “I assure you, Charles, that none of the Cat King’s ploys would work on you. He seems partial to trickery, as you said, but knowing what we do now, I am fairly certain he would not be able to entrap you using the same mind games I fell prey to. Even after that single encounter, I also get the sense that he himself is not one for direct coercion or violence. Therefore, if and when we do encounter him again, I will simply have my mind more well fortified against his tactics, and you should be perfectly fine as you are.”

Charles still doesn’t like the cloudy picture of this “encounter” that he is beginning to fill in from his friend’s vague words. He huffs. “You’re so sure his ‘ploys’ wouldn’t work on me, are you? I’m flattered, mate, but even I know a trickster god could get in my head if he wanted.”

“I do not believe you would fall prey to his flirtations.”

Charles’s eyes widen, and something twists in his gut. “Flirtations?”

Edwin’s eyes mirror his, suddenly realizing he’s said more than he meant to. He opens his mouth mutely and closes it. 

Charles’s temper flares again, suddenly wanting to take a cricket bat to the Cat King’s lair and smash all of his bloody stupid shipping crates to bits, but as quickly as the rage comes, he pushes it deep, deep down. That’s not what this is about right now. 

This is about his friend– his best mate– and the implication laced under this whole bloody opaque conversation that Charles had been too dense to catch. Hell, apparently he’d been too thick to catch it for the past 30 years. 

He didn’t realize Edwin likes blokes. And that feels like the bit Charles can focus on to ease the tension that’s been brewing since they got back. That feels like the thing he can fix right now. Cause, well, Charles’s been keeping a bit of a secret too, hasn’t he? 

He leans back against the rim of the mirror, letting his head rest against the wood frame as he smooths out his features and gives Edwin what he hopes is a convincing smile. 

“You’re right. He’s not my type.” 

Edwin blinks and turns away, huffing out a nervous laugh before picking up a random book off the corner of the desk and flipping it open. “Right. Exactly.”

“Not that he’s not fit in kind of a Loki way. But I don’t usually go for dickheads who kidnap my best mate, so I should be safe.”

Edwin whips his head around, nearly dropping the book, and Charles springs up off the mirror to catch it, steadying it in Edwin’s hands. Suddenly the two boys are up in each other’s space, and Charles’s chest feels tight for a different reason. He drops his hands. 

Edwin is studying Charles with wide eyes, trying to puzzle through his meaning. If Charles could blush, he knows his cheeks would be hot under his friend’s pretty gaze. 

“Well, yes. Obviously. Though my assessment was based on the fact that you don’t usually go for– Or, rather– That you tend to express more of an interest in–” Edwin stumbles, like he’s editing himself midsentence, “... People like Crystal.”

Given the course of this conversation and, you know, 30 odd years of friendship, Charles knows the next part will be okay, but he can’t help the twinge of nerves that shoots through him either. Internalized biphobia is a bitch, yeah? He tries not to fidget, though, keeping a soft slouch to his shoulders to remain “casual” as he allows for this revelation. This is Edwin, afterall. And it seems the two of them share this too. 

“Girls, you mean?” Charles says the quiet part out loud. 

Edwin makes a soft noise of agreement, almost an afterthought, eyes still fixed on Charles with something between anxiety and the intensity of trying to solve a case. 

Charles forces himself to smile through the nerves. “I mean, yeah, girls are pretty brills. But blokes aren’t too bad either, are they? So, you know, if you need to factor that into your calculations about the Cat King. I could theoretically be wooed by a trickster god like him. If he wasn’t a giant knob.”

A small smile slips past Edwin’s guard, but he’s still quiet for a moment. As he searches Charles’s face for sincerity it grows wider, dimpling his cheeks in the most genuine smile Charles’s seen on him all day. It makes his insides go all soft seeing that smile.

“I will make note of it for future cases,” Edwin says, overly formal, of course, but there’s a conspiratorial edge to his voice like it's an inside joke. 

Charles half expects Edwin to pull out his notebook and write down these new “findings,” and Charles laughs to himself before lightly bumping Edwin’s shoulder. He feels warm and a little giddy with having told this to somebody after so long– his best friend no less– and having it go so well for both of them. 

They stay like that for a moment, shoulder to shoulder, Edwin looking down at whatever book he picked up and Charles looking out over their slightly messy office, not trusting himself to face Edwin head on lest his overwhelming fondness show up too plainly on his face. It’s a fondness he’s not quite willing to name yet. But he tucks that away to be examined later. For now he’s just pleased that he helped Edwin to relax a smidge, and let him know he’s not alone. 

Edwin makes a startled noise beside him, and straightens up, causing Charles to jump to attention in confusion. Edwin looks sheepish. “I just felt a tug on my sleeve back in Port Townsend. Likely Crystal. We should bring back as many books as we can carry and continue searching through them back at her apartment. Hopefully nothing too dire has happened with Niko while we were dawdling.”

Charles rolls his eyes at “dawdling,” but he scoops up an armful of books with a grin. “Right. Plus she can help us look through them too.”

Charles starts back towards the mirror before Edwin strains forward, reaching towards a book on the far end of the desk. “Be sure to collect the–”

Charles pauses and throws him a look, one leg already phasing through the mirror. “Oi! What did I just say about that arm?”

Edwin drops his outstretched arm with an exasperated groan, turns around, and passes through the mirror back into Crystal’s flat without another word. Charles just shakes his head fondly and follows.

[melrosing]

Do you think Jaime sincerely regrets what he does to Bran despite only thinking of it once?

ya of course. I think something that maybe needs to be said more often (particularly regarding Jaime’s POV but also broadly applies to others) is that you are not always going to see a character doing the workings that lead them from point A to point B. you have to fill in some of the gaps yourself and surmise the changes in thinking that have taken place offscreen.

The Jaime and Bran thing is a good example of this. we can gather from the scene in which the push takes place that this isn’t something Jaime wanted to do, but felt compelled to: he helps Bran up when he initially falls, and when he asks Bran his age etc a reader can gather when rereading the scene that this is Jaime trying to make time as he deliberates what he’s going to do next. then ‘the things I do for love’ is said with ‘loathing’. already we have plenty to determine that Jaime was not happy w this line of action, but felt he needed to take it.

then we get the AGOT-early ASOS scenes where Jaime comes across as a cut and dry villain and does nothing to help himself, half-jesting to Bran’s own mother about what he did and demonstrating no remorse whatsoever. shocking on first read but a rereader should be able to go back based on what they learn of Jaime later on and realise that he talks differently to what he feels, and maintains this darkly careless front specifically to avoid digging up his true feelings on difficult subjects. this is made apparent over and over again.

then there’s a big gap where Bran is neither mentioned nor thought about by Jaime, when suddenly right towards the end of the book he declares himself ashamed of what he did. so now the reader realises that Jaime has been thinking about what he did, even whilst we haven’t read those thoughts. and then looking at how the act was performed in the first place, we can realise he’s always been ashamed of what he did, has just been telling himself and others differently for his own complex reasons.

I think there are a lot of people who can’t accept that character work sometimes takes place off the page as well as on it, and a character won’t always declare every step they take in a new direction, but sometimes a certain line here or there will tell you that that work has been taking place. if executed well, this is just good writing: it’s boring having the writer spell everything out for you, good books should feel like you’re working with the writer to build the full story.

a lot of people do want it spelt out though lol, you see that a lot with discussions re Jaime, because I’d say he’s maybe the most ‘show don’t tell’ character in the series. and like I always say this isn’t fuckin Paradise Lost or whatever you do not need a degree to crack it but idk like. reading is a skill?? spend any amount of time in asoiaf fandom and truly u will realise that some people just. well they haven’t honed that skill yet lol

[anim-ttrpgs]

Another A.N.I.M. Interview!

Another A.N.I.M. interview! This one was actually recorded back in March, and it’s my first-ever audio interview, so I apologize for my public speaking skills lol

The major takeaway I think from this interview is that when you spend money on a rulebook and/or adventure module, the burden should not fall on you to make the experience good. You should be able to rely on the rulebook to do a huge chunk of, if not most, of the work in a session. The rulebook should be providing a sturdy platform for the GM and players to stand on while they build their story, and ideally provide hammers, nails, screws, glue, paint, wood, scaffolding, cement, etc. for them to work with, and an adventure module should provide a structure at least half-built for them to work from, instead of making them put effort into just treading water while they also have to do all the other work.

If “listening for local rumors” is something a PC could feasibly do in an RPG, the rulebook should come with at least a DC to determine how difficult that is, so that the GM doesn’t have to make up a DC on the fly, then also determine what success or failure means on the fly.

Less than 3 days left to back our kickstarter for Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy! Crowdfunding ends at 2:00 PM CST on Friday May 10th!

If you want to try before you buy, you can download a free demo of the prerelease version from our website or our itch.io page!

If you’re interested in a more updated and improved version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy than the free demo you got from our website, subscribe to our Patreon where we frequently roll our new updates for the prerelease version!

You can also support us on Ko-fi, or by checking out our merchandise!

Join our TTRPG Book Club At the time of writng this, Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy is the current game being played in the book club, and anyone who wants to participate in discussion, but can’t afford to make a contribution, will be given the most updated prerelease version for free! Plus it’s just a great place to discuss and play new TTRPGs you might not be able to otherwise!

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

[ventiij]

This is the first request I've ever sent lol, I was wondering if you could write NSFW! Xingqiu Alphabet?

sure! after all, it’s not always that you get Xingqiu as your first …👀 request.

(boy is so underrated help)

i apologize in advance if point q doesn’t really make sense smh, i just couldn’t find anything more suitable lol. anyway enjoy.

minors run away in 3, 2, 1

a - adoration (is he into it?)

yes, very likely. even if he is the gentleman type there’s just something in him.. and of course, as much as he loves taking compliments, he will give them back, if you like.

b - bottom (ntm to say)

yeah he’s definitely submissive towards you, maybe power bottom at times? still tho: not long after you get started, he can’t help but submit and be good for you. make him do anything, after all, he’s been waiting for it since he read that one book (of his many, all for the same purpose) and imagined you two as the main characters.

c - cock (lenght)

slightly less than 15cm but doesn’t really care, like, dear… TRUST anything above that is just extra not just on him but where is all that going? nowhere near me ty

d - dress up (what kind of clothing does he wear during it or beforehand?)

you could have him dressed up like in any dress, ex. a maid one, litterally use imagination he’s chill, may act a lil shy at first but gives up soon enough. after he acknowledges that you’re into it tho, you can clearly see how he found his new favourite way to tease you.

e - embarassement (how does he take teasing amd such while he’s sensitive?)

after you tease him with words, he’s all red with his eyes closed just listening, not saying a word and just enjoying the feeling

f - face (best face he pulls)

eyes closed, small pout ad he drools a little

g - g-spot (how does he act when you hit it?)

he becomes super loud and he whimpers so much. ability to talk? gone. he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing unless you point it out.

h - horny (where, when, how much?)

after reading a book about it and just imaginating the things you could’ve done to ruin him. not that much unless it really got him into thinking about you and his thoughts just run wild.

i - impact (that the first time had on him)

he liked it so much and then you comforted him right after, so he understood he could come to you in case he’ll want it to happen again (he will)

j - juice (again, explains by itself)

the quantity depends on how much he’s in the mood and how much you tease him and vice versa, but nevertheless feels so good to him. tries not to be too loud the first time, but if he’s really overwhelmed he won’t be able to control his voice.

k - kids (pregnancy kink yes or no)

no and don’t question this.

l - lemon (what does he think about it)

right before having sex, he loves it. it turns him on and he immediately gets the message.

m - masturbation (yes or no?)

not usually, only if he’s really really down bad to do it and you aren’t there. if you are there tho and you order him to do it, he will. he wants your eyes on him the whole time. give him more orders and pass your time like that, he’ll put on a great show for you and you only

n - no (things that aren’t allowed)

don’t ruin his tender, porcellain skin: no knifeplay or anything like that. you can tie his hands, sure, but don’t use ropes all over his body too often, if he feels too much pain that will be an extreme turn-off.

o - osmanthus wine (tastes the same as i remember but where are those who share the memories)

jk

o - obedience (featuring point b)

he’s so obedient, yes. he knows if he’ll be obedient you’ll reward him and he’ll look forward to it the whole time.

p - positions (which one does he prefer?)

when he’s sitting on your lap: he prefers to be close to you, to feel everything he can.

q - queue (do you have to wait to have sex, in case he’s busy?)

depends on what he’s doing. reading a book? alright, he’ll stop for now. just a few dozens of pages left to finish that huge book he bought last week? hell no, know your place.

r - rest (after it)

he needs a lot of rest because he puts a lot of effort into both pleasing you and feeling a lot of sensations at the same time. he’s exhausted and he’ll love it if you take care of him, after all, he’s been good, no?

s - stress (not during it)

defo uses it as an excuse to get some attention from you, something like: “can you take my mind off of some things..?” and then becomes the naughtiest thing you thought could come out of this

t - tongue (does he like when you use it or when he’s using it?)

oh yeah, definitely. boy liked having all your attention in general so pushing it even more will just please him as much as possible

u - urges (during it)

to cum. if you deny it, he’ll start whining and play victim, deny it even more. he’ll be so desperate and cute for you that he just fulfills your desired until you give him consent to finally release.

v - volume (is he loud? quiet?)

he tries to be quiet most of the time, but as soon as he cums, he’s so loud. he’s so sensitive so he can’t help it.

w - wow (a thing you didn’t expect from him)

that he tends to come to you whenever he’s feeling horny without being all that shy. no big words or so, he just asks you to fuck him right away and, how could you say no? he really does rely on you for this one.

x - xoxo (kisses before, during and after it)

before it, it’s just as i said in point l, during it, they’re even hotten and expecially wet. after it, the kisses are just soft and cute, as a form of appreciation and trust.

y - yummy (using mouth - jobs, eating out etc)

yeah as said in point t he likes every bit of attention from you and will carve it no matter in which way you plan on giving it to him.

z - zappy (things he’s excited to do, featuring the previous points)

g, j, l, p, u

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Sexual Healing

The Waves Are Rising and Rising extra scene #2

Y'all come get your '3zun finally have good sex' Extended Edition Director's Cut here! (As in this extra directly follows on where chapter 12 fades to black lol)

--//--

Is it possible to be hypnotized by sex?

Maybe that’s what’s wrong with Jin Guangshan; maybe his lecherous tendencies are only partially his own fault, maybe he’s been so steeped in them for so long that he can’t help it.

Maybe thinking of that disgusting cad (who is entirely in control of his lust, Nie Mingjue knows logically) at a time like this is wildly counterproductive. (Or, he supposes, it could be productive considering he’s meant to be focusing on the ledgers, and losing some of the heat simmering in his belly can only help with trying to reason through the accounts.)

“Focus,” Meng- Jin Guangyao murmurs, and how does he always know? He braces himself for the usual flash of suspicious spiralling that always accompanies thoughts of his sworn brother these days, even lately, even considering…everything, and exhales a slow sigh of relief when it doesn’t come slinking out of the miraculous quiet in the back of his mind.

“Blame yourself if I can’t focus as well as you’d like,” he tells Men- Jin Guangyao, currently perched in his lap like he’s decided to take up permanent residence there. (Considering his initial performance tonight, Nie Mingjue would be more than happy to let him do so.)

Jin Guangyao sniffs a playfully disdainful, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” right as he leans forward to hold the ledger in his hands closer to the candle on the table and Nie Mingjue bites off a swear as the motion grinds Jin Guangyao’s ass right against his dick, currently half-hard, painfully sensitive, and only barely covered by the single robe he’d thrown on for the sake of some vague nod at propriety. Perhaps one of those things is his own fault…but two out of the three aren’t! It’s still definitely Jin Guangyao’s fault that he’s in this state.

“Perhaps the ledgers would be more easily deciphered in the morning,” Lan Xichen posits not for the first time and alright, so maybe it’s not all Jin Guangyao’s fault. He risks a glance over at the bed and has to steel himself against the sight of Lan Xichen sprawled out in a way that would give any other Lan a conniption, and not just because he’s lounging around gloriously nude.

“I felt that,” Jin Guangyao mutters, audibly smirking, and Nie Mingjue considers just dumping him off his lap. Since when is it Jin Guangyao’s business what his cock does upon seeing Lan Xichen so clearly enjoying himself? He hasn’t decided on a course of action before Jin Guangyao is speaking again, turning a page with an entirely too-dramatic flick of his slender wrist, the motion following all the way through the graceful lines of his fingers, as he says, “We’re nearly done, er-ge, and then I promise we’ll have sex with you for the rest of the night.”

Nie Mingjue, feeling contrary and mostly as a matter of principle, growls, “Speak for yourself, I like sleeping after sex,” and immediately regrets it when Lan Xichen pouts at him rather devastatingly.

Too breezy to be sincere, Jin Guangyao says, “We hardly need you to participate if you find you’re not able to…rise to the task, ge-” the paper flutters as he flicks to the next page “-though I believe I can reasonably assert that it wouldn’t be from a lack of physical ability. Or desire, for that matter.”

“Stop feeling it,” he hisses, cheeks burning, and very pointedly ignores Lan Xichen barely muffling a laugh in the rumpled bedding.

“Then stop poking me with it!”

“You sat on me!”

“You didn’t leave me any other seating options!”

“Enough, you two,” Lan Xichen calls, still chuckling. Nie Mingjue half-buries his face in the crook of Jin Guangyao’s shoulder to glare down at the ledgers while still at least somewhat hiding the flush in his cheeks that fades slowly as they settle again. He doesn’t lift his head though, even once there’s nothing left to hide; Jin Guangyao’s too-angular shoulder is surprisingly comfortable, and if Nie Mingjue likes the feeling of holding him close with his entire body then that’s his own business. 

“Hmm Mingjue, what’s this one? These are all quite expensive, we don’t typically pay this much for hostlers,” Jin Guangyao murmurs, tapping a well-manicured fingernail against a column near the middle of a page. Rather than allowing himself to obsess over that casual ‘we’, Nie Mingjue glances up at the corner of the page to check the date and reaches around Jin Guangyao’s waist to turn the book enough to see the cover so he can place which type of spending it should be — non-agricultural livestock, and in the spring so it must have been-

“The horse fair,” he replies when it clicks in his memory (gods but he’d really forgotten what it’s like to have a mind that just works, his recall sharp and easy in a way it hasn’t been in longer than he’d care to think about). “We never hosted one while you were here, and then of course we couldn’t participate during the war, but we finally came up again in the rotation. It’s not a normal expense so there’s nothing else to balance it against, but it should all be in order. I did it myself and Zonghui cross-checked it.”

Nie Mingjue can’t decide if he loves or hates Jin Guangyao’s judgy little, “Hm.” Maybe it’s more that he isn’t sure if he loves or hates having this again, even temporarily; the Nie Sect runs well these days between himself and Zonghui…but no one is quite like Jin Guangyao. Meng Yao. His right hand, his confidante, his advisor, his everything—

Nie Mingjue takes a slow breath in, holds it, releases it again just as slowly. Jin Guangyao pats at Nie Mingjue’s arm around his waist like he barely even notices he’s doing it, still bent forward a little to pore over the ledgers sitting open in front of him, cross-checking and flipping back and forth through them with deft fingers as he mutters to himself.

He never thought he’d have this again. He never thought he’d want this again, not after everything that’s happened. Of course he’d missed Jin Guangyao, but he’d missed who he was, and there’s no recovering that. Meng Yao is as good as dead (though Nie Mingjue could never bring himself to be the one to kill him), and a cruel, conniving snake wearing his face replaced the man Nie Mingjue thought he knew.

Except…that isn’t true anymore. So much of him is still the same as he’s always been underneath the rest of it, and Nie Mingjue can’t in good conscience go on ignoring that, not even for the sake of his grudges.

He presses a kiss to Jin Guangyao’s jaw, featherlight, little more than a tease, and Jin Guangyao tuts a fond, “Da-ge,” in the same way he used to chide him (“Zongzhu”) whenever he’d find him still up in the small hours of the morning, working late enough for their paths to cross when Meng Yao was just starting his day.

Jin Guangyao skims quickly through page after page of complex figures, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t have to be able to see his face to know how quickly his eyes are flicking up and down the columns, his quick mind recreating what he’s looking at for his flawless memory to catalog before he flicks to the next page, as good a record as (if not better than) the physical ledger itself. Nie Mingjue still marvels as much as ever over such prodigious talent, and still can’t quite believe that it’s once again being put to use to help him and his Sect — a particular kind of care that he’d always cherished.

He also still pours more of himself than anyone should ask of him into his goals, and Nie Mingjue can’t pretend anymore to be unaffected by the fact that one of his main goals is now, apparently, ensuring Nie Mingjue doesn’t lose himself to rage like every Nie sect leader who came before him. How could he turn away from that? He’s not heartless; far from it, and Jin Guangyao has always been able to reach straight into him to tug on his heart as easily as breathing…for better or for worse.

With the clarity of dual cultivation he can recognize, in retrospect, that whatever plots Jin Guangyao might have against him that can be accomplished by sharing his bed would be so convoluted and twisted as to be nearly impossible to plan while also running Jinlintai as they all know he does. In between beatings and the administrative duties of an entire sect when would he have the time? Nie Mingjue doesn’t doubt that he could do it, but if he were then wouldn’t Jin Guangshan reward him? Nie Mingjue doesn’t doubt for a minute that Jin Guangshan would prefer it if he were out of the picture, and the fact remains that Jin Guangyao is a logical first choice to make that happen. Who else in Jinlintai has such unquestioned access to him both in his own home and outside of the fortress? Who else in Nie Mingjue’s close circle has shown no hesitation before killing someone ostensibly on their own side for personal gain as easily as for public good? He knows his suspicions aren’t unfounded, even when his reactions in the past may have been…disproportionate.

Jin Guangyao sighs and pulls his unbound hair over one shoulder, leaning forward to the candle again, though this time it seems like he actually needs to and he’s not using it as an excuse to wind him up. That’s all to the good, as when he moves Nie Mingjue can’t help but notice the mottled purple shadow of a bruise that looks far too much like a thumbprint on the center of his neck, right on his spine, and feels anger — clean, justified anger, not the nauseous rage of Baxia — harden something in his chest. No, Jin Guangyao can’t possibly be in Jin Guangshan’s favor. Maybe he’s still hypnotized from whatever the hell just happened — whether it was the sex or the dual cultivation or both intertwined — but he finds he would much rather trust Jin Guangyao than hate him.

He’d never wanted to hate him in the first place.

Nie Mingjue leans in to bury his face in the inviting fall of Jin Guangyao’s hair; he nuzzles his nose into the nape of his neck, presses a blind kiss to his skin, closes his eyes to better appreciate the full-body feeling of Jin Guangyao shivering delicately in his lap. 

“Da-ge,” he tuts again softly, but Nie Mingjue doesn’t want to heed him so he doesn’t. He forces himself to release his grip around Jin Guangyao’s waist in favor of holding his hips in both hands before dragging his palms around to his back and then sliding them up to his shoulders. (He’s always carried so much tension right there, his shoulders visibly knotted up from all his bowing, his hours spent hunched over a desk writing until well past the beginning of the guards’ third watch, his pain and his fear and seemingly everything in his life conspiring against him to make him uncomfortable. Nie Mingjue has never really been in a position to help him with it before, not really, but there’s nothing wrong with starting now.)

He presses the pads of his thumbs carefully to the snarled up muscles on either side of Jin Guangyao’s spine, between the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, and rewards him with another kiss to the graceful arch of his neck when he breathes through a little hitch of tension and then relaxes with obvious effort.

“Am I going to find any stray bruises if I do something about your poor back?” he mutters, quiet enough for Lan Xichen not to hear. It feels a little ridiculous to need to ask when they were all naked not even half a shichen ago, but Jin Guangyao hadn’t put his back to him at any point of the process; he’s not too proud to ask when not asking puts him at risk of hurting his partner.

Jin Guangyao hesitates for a long moment before he simply shakes his head in the negative and returns to his analysis of the reports. Nie Mingjue, satisfied with such tacit permission, begins carefully working to loosen up at least some of Jin Guangyao’s tired muscles.

“Get his hip as well, da-ge,” Lan Xichen calls when he catches onto his goal a few minutes into the slow, careful massaging. “It might ache after sitting in your lap for so long.”

“Dual cultivating helps relieve my aches, da-ge need not concern himself with them,” Jin Guangyao says, conciliatory as always. Nie Mingjue ignores him and his ridiculous efforts to deflect to instead dutifully drop a hand to the side Jin Guangyao favors on the very rare occasions he gives into his need to limp. It’s immensely gratifying to hear him choke on some relieved noise in the back of his throat, and Nie Mingjue suddenly wishes they were facing each other so he could kiss him through it.

“You shouldn’t have hurt yourself just to do that for me,” Nie Mingjue tells him. He leans to the side enough to kiss the over-warm curve of Jin Guangyao’s ear and raises an eyebrow that the other man can’t see when he scoffs and flicks to the next page of the ledger a little too aggressively.

“If I were to avoid any and all positions that hurt in some way either during or after the fact, I would have to resort to being nothing more than a passive observer. I’d be able to do little but recline on a luxuriously cushioned sofa and watch you two have sex without me.”

Not that he’s exactly opposed to that idea — not at all — but Nie Mingjue (and Lan Xichen, judging by the sad little noise he makes) hates the thought that Jin Guangyao has pushed himself too far not only once resulting in the the Fainting Incident, but every time they’ve been together. Besides…it’s not like he wants Jin Guangyao’s suggestion to become their sex life permanently. There has to be some way they can position themselves that doesn’t aggravate his old injuries to the point of requiring a massage even when he has a core freshly overflowing with more than enough qi to ease his everyday aches and pains.

“Hm,” Nie Mingjue hums against the crook of his neck to show that he’s heard, at least. Jin Guangyao seems content enough to drop it for now, and a few moments later Nie Mingjue realizes why.

Nie Mingjue is still rubbing gentle circles into his back and hip when Jin Guangyao sits up perfectly straight so fast his bony shoulder clips Nie Mingjue’s chin and he points triumphantly down at a column in the agriculture ledger that looks…perfectly fine.

“I found it! And in half the time it would have taken you as well,” he preens. “You’ve recorded half of your expenses for the horse fair twice — double the amount of grain, far more hostlers than you would ever need for anything, and you’ve counted a commission of saddles and blankets among both the fair goods and as supplies for the soldiers’ mounts. Subtract the fair goods from the normal agricultural report, have Zonghui readjust the tallies against the quartermaster’s reports from the spring, and it’ll balance again.”

Jin Guangyao twists at the hips to look up at him and Nie Mingjue can barely breathe through the want suddenly squeezing around his rib cage; Jin Guangyao’s wide eyes are bright and he’s smiling without any guile whatsoever, pleased with himself and teasing in equal measure. He has no right to be so beautiful without even trying.

“Coincidentally you’re also likely to see complaints from the bladesmiths soon for the rising costs of ore even with your interventions. You should send someone to check the integrity of those operating the mines instead of continuing to absorb the cost, it’s unnecessary when you could simply solve the root issue with some intimidation and stricter accounting. But that’s a separate problem that I must assume wasn’t brought to your attention in the face of…everything else.”

Nie Mingjue scowls but knows that he has no real argument. The Nie are plenty wealthy enough to afford a bit of mishandling somewhere in their various supply chains and he assumes that Zonghui has ordered an investigation into the problem at least, but Jin Guangyao is right. There are things that have been neglected while he’s simply not well enough to address them, and though it makes him burn with a shameful sort of anger, considering it’s entirely directed inward he does nothing to vent that anger to Jin Guangyao, who’s simply doing what he always did before. There was a time when Meng Yao dared to advise him in ways no one else in the Sect would risk trying, arguing in that gentle way of his to help Nie Mingjue see at least a few feet through the fog outside the easy, straightforward path of his own cut-and-dry logic.

Gods but he misses him.

“Thank you, A-Yao,” he murmurs against Jin Guangyao’s cheek, kissing him slowly simply because he can (and he feels like he might burst into flames if he doesn’t).

Lan Xichen clears his throat delicately and practically purrs, “I believe A-Yao deserves a reward.”

Jin Guangyao smiles wider and turns his head to look at Lan Xichen; with his cheek out of reach, Nie Mingjue drops his head to kiss his shoulder again instead and returns to massaging wherever he feels like touching next.

“Weren’t you meant to tend to Mingjue again?”

“A-Huan’s right, you first,” Nie Mingjue tells him before Lan Xichen is pushed to choose between them. He slides his hand up from Jin Guangyao’s hip to tug at the loose tie of his borrowed robe enough to slip his hand between the layers and press his palm over Jin Guangyao’s lower dantian, where his core is practically spilling over with their combined qi. He feels the hitch of Jin Guangyao’s next inhale as much as he hears it, and in a sudden burst of inspiration he reaches out with a little thread of his own qi, still marveling at how easy and clear it feels, and lets it seep an extra bit of warmth into Jin Guangyao’s skin.

“I have an idea, since you’ve become so interested in learning cultivation techniques,” he adds, hoping he isn’t overstepping. “Since you showed me what you and Xichen learned together, how about Xichen and I show you something?”

There is, of course, the risk that Jin Guangyao is going to take that as poorly as he’s taken every other conversation about his cultivation. (Not conversations, he supposes begrudgingly. Criticisms. Criticisms that he had levelled at him, utterly unfairly. Of course they hadn’t gone over well, but he can make amends, can’t he? He wants to with a desperation that makes his heart race-)

“Oh?” Jin Guangyao murmurs, leaning back more heavily against his chest. “What do you have in mind? Planning to put me through my paces?”

Nie Mingjue relaxes with an exhale that shakes ever so slightly right at the very end and shakes his head, though a moment later he realizes it’s not exactly incorrect and switches to a shrug. “Actually…maybe? That’s going to be up to A-Huan I suppose, he knows how to do this better than I do. I’ll let him lead.”

He glances over at Lan Xichen and smirks when he sees it click, what he’s suggesting, and right on the heels of it the sparkle of mischief in his eyes that he’d very much like to see turned on Jin Guangyao for a change.

“I highly doubt this was the purpose my ancestors had in mind when they created the technique,” Lan Xichen sniffs, but he still sits up to strip the covers back down to the foot of the bed out of their way, so really who’s right and who’s wrong?

(It’s Nie Mingjue, he’s well aware that he’s right.)

“Your ancestors established thousands of rules to keep their passions in check long enough to focus on cultivating. They absolutely knew what they were inventing.” 

“As charming as your bickering is-” Jin Guangyao says “-are either of you going to explain?”

“Bring him here, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen orders; Nie Mingjue doesn’t let Jin Guangyao have time to be offended that no answer is forthcoming. He takes a mischievous sort of delight of his own in bundling Jin Guangyao up in his arms and rolling to his feet with him, smirking as he suddenly finds himself in a bit of a chokehold when Jin Guangyao twists in grip to throw his arms around his neck with an uncharacteristic little yelp. He’s never so unguarded, and Nie Mingjue wonders what else he’s hiding behind his perpetual polite barriers. He’s seen his anger now, of course, and his pain, but there must be more than sharp claws under all that desperate need to please, to be liked. Nie Mingjue wants to find it all with a ferocity that surprises him.

“You’ll figure it out soon enough, clever little thing you are,” Nie Mingjue soothes when Jin Guangyao shoots him an offended glare once he’s safely deposited on the bed. He leaves Lan Xichen the pleasure of stripping Jin Guangyao of the single (Lan) robe he’d thrown on as he strips down himself, and when he’s ready to climb back into bed Lan Xichen needs no prompting to lift Jin Guangyao into his own arms and let Nie Mingjue settle in, his upper back supported by the bolster, his head resting against the lacquered wooden frame behind it.

“Why are you both suddenly so bossy?” Jin Guangyao grumps but he makes no obvious attempts to squirm out of Lan Xichen’s grip so Nie Mingjue just smirks and makes sure he’s fully comfortable before he gestures for Lan Xichen to return Jin Guangyao to him.

“Because you’re fun to tease and we will reward you handsomely for tolerating it,” Lan Xichen hums. “Now, I believe you asked for a cushioned seat from which to participate?”

“What-”

Nie Mingjue accepts Jin Guangyao’s weight in his lap again happily, though this time of course he goes further and coaxes Jin Guangyao into laying back against his chest, his legs draped wide over Nie Mingjue’s thighs to help support his hips while still keeping him open for whatever Lan Xichen would like to do to him. Jin Guangyao goes very still for a long moment — in which Nie Mingjue wraps his arm firmly around his middle and double checks that Jin Guangyao’s hair isn’t caught and at risk of getting tugged on where his back is pressed to his chest — and then, suddenly, all at once, he melts. He goes so relaxed, so boneless, that Nie Mingjue nearly thinks he’s passed out until Jin Guangyao turns his head enough to crane his neck and look at him, and Nie Mingjue meets his gaze steadily.

“Hi.”

“Comfortable?”

Jin Guangyao blinks up at him, slow and lazy like a particularly contented cat, and if Nie Mingjue didn’t know any better he’d say that there’s something like vulnerability lurking in his dark gaze.

“Mhm.”

He raises his free hand to cup Jin Guangyao’s jaw in the interest of making sure he isn’t even straining his neck to look up at him, and when he relaxes into the hold Nie Mingjue rewards him with a kiss that part of him (most of him) still expects to be rejected every time he tries it. But as with every careful kiss that’s preceded it, Jin Guangyao doesn’t shy away from him, insead returning it with a cautious sort of enthusiasm that only falters when Lan Xichen apparently decides he’s done testing the waters in favor of getting straight to what they all want.

Jin Guangyao gasps in sudden pleasure against his mouth, stuttering and ragged. Nie Mingjue feels it like a hook tugging in his gut, and he’s unsurprised to find he’s not exactly interested in sleeping as soon as possible anymore. Sharp teeth nip at the tender inside of his bottom lip and he refuses to let Jin Guangyao break the kiss to apologize; if he doesn’t want to be bitten that’s fine, but Nie Mingjue can take it — wants to take it. That’ll probably settle uneasily, he thinks, for a man so unnervingly obsessed with scores and keeping them even, but that’s just not how this works, nothing about this thing between them — between all of them — can be measured so easily as that.

“Relax, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen pauses long enough to say; Nie Mingjue smirks at the offended noise Jin Guangyao can’t articulate past the insistent press of Nie Mingjue’s mouth on his.

His snickering earns him another nip, sharper this time, and he’s pretty sure Jin Guangyao can feel what it does to him considering how tightly they’re pressed together, and especially with Lan Xichen’s weight pressing Jin Guangyao’s hips down that much more firmly against Nie Mingjue’s. Jin Guangyao finally breaks the kiss when he turns his head in favor of tilting it back and resting it on Nie Mingjue’s chest to pant up at the ceiling. A glance down the length of him ends very abruptly with the sight of a very devoted and focused Lan Xichen between his legs with Jin Guangyao’s cock almost completely buried in his mouth.

“You know,” he muses, still smirking a little, “I think I’m actually with A-Yao on this one — how is he supposed to relax when you’re doing that to him?”

“Er-ge is absolutely not allowed to stop and answer that question, but this one thanks you for your support,” Jin Guangyao huffs, shifting restlessly until he finally just reaches one hand up and back to grab a fistful of Nie Mingjue’s hair to ground himself. Nie Mingjue bends his neck a bit to allow it more easily, wary of Jin Guangyao straining his shoulder to reach so far when his one job at the moment is to make sure that nothing pains him at all until Lan Xichen deems himself satisfied.

Nie Mingjue trails his free hand along the contours of Jin Guangyao’s side, starting at his hip and trailing teasingly light fingertips along his ribs (still far too prominent for his liking) and then up the arm still hooked up and back until he’s wrapped his hand around Jin Guangyao’s fist, urging him to keep it right where it is.

“Does anything hurt?” he asks, mouth pressed against Jin Guangyao’s ear. Jin Guangyao shakes his head quickly back and forth but he seems to be, for once, at a loss for words. Not that Nie Mingjue doesn’t like his conversation, but there’s something compelling about reducing someone so damn articulate to wordless, artless, guileless moaning, even when he can’t exactly claim the bragging rights for this one.

Though the answer seems obvious, he still finds himself pressing for more with a smug, “Do you feel good, A-Yao?” punctuated with a kiss tucked away just for them behind the delicate curve of Jin Guangyao’s ear, cut short by his frantic nodding. Part of him desperately wants to know what it is Lan Xichen is doing with his mouth that’s so good, and when he got so good at whatever it is, but there are more immediate matters that need his attention.

“I think he’s close, A-Huan.”

He watches Lan Xichen work his way back off slowly, feels Jin Guangyao’s back arch and his legs tense where they’re still draped over Nie Mingjue’s, and at what must be the absolute last moment before Jin Guangyao comes Lan Xichen pops off him with an obscene, wet little noise and Nie Mingjue abruptly feels his qi between them, muffled and muted but close enough to soothe even though he’s not the target.

Jin Guangyao keens, frustrated and confused, and Nie Mingjue doesn’t even wince as his hair is yanked and Jin Guangyao shivers, a full-body thing in the wake of the orgasm Lan Xichen has just stopped and redirected with an expert thread of qi.

“I- What-”

“Focus on your core,” Lan Xichen instructs, calm and collected save for how his voice is rough even after he clears his throat. “You’re alright, I’ll give you another, just cultivate for a moment.”

Jin Guangyao clearly struggles with it for a few long moments, his qi moving in fits and starts, slipping in and out of his control only to be caught by Lan Xichen’s deft touch whenever he fumbles it so that he doesn’t lose the progress entirely. Nie Mingjue tracks it all through his hand on Jin Guangyao’s belly, his arm still wrapped around him to support his weight and hold him steady, keep him grounded, as Lan Xichen sort of… brute forces his way into teaching Jin Guangyao a new cultivation method.

As always, though, he’s a quick study no matter how steep the learning curve, and before the energy has been completely absorbed into his overflowing core Jin Guangyao takes over directing it himself, Lan Xichen’s qi slowly withdrawing until he breaks the thread of it connecting them and pauses to let Jin Guangyao catch his breath.

“And he swears that technique was never a sex thing,” Nie Mingjue mutters just for the pleasure of hearing Jin Guangyao laugh while Lan Xichen sits up on his knees to give Jin Guangyao some space to come down from his almost-orgasm.

“It works for redirecting any type of building energy, Mingjue, it doesn’t have to be sexual pleasure.”

“Oh, so you’re telling me you’ve only ever used it while sparring or practicing your forms? You’ve never used it in the privacy of your own home during ‘personal meditation’-”

“That is beside the point!”

Nie Mingjue is a gracious victor, so he simply raises an eyebrow at Lan Xichen to claim the point and then turns his attention back to Jin Guangyao still recovering, though he’s nearly back to himself if Nie Mingjue is any judge. He runs an assessing hand over any potential sore spots and lingers on Jin Guangyao’s bad knee just barely in his reach. He rubs careful circles around the knob of it and earns a smile from Lan Xichen as Jin Guangyao sighs, slumps more firmly against him, and finally releases his grip in his hair to drop his arm again and reach for Lan Xichen instead. Nie Mingjue watches their hands tangle together without a shred of jealousy.

“This humble one thanks er-ge for his instruction,” Jin Guangyao mumbles, and it’s interesting to watch Lan Xichen practically melt for him when Nie Mingjue can do so without the usual accompanying flash of irritation (that he realizes in hindsight and without Baxia’s influence might actually just be jealousy, plain and simple). “It’s a Lan technique?”

“Mm. Do you think you’ll find it useful?”

“Oh yes.” Nie Mingjue tries not to visibly perk up at the mischief he can hear lurking in Jin Guangyao’s drowsy voice. “It can only be to my benefit to have such an effective method of making my nights in Lanling so… productive. I’m sure er-ge understands.”

Er-ge definitely understands, Nie Mingjue thinks, as Lan Xichen hides his reddened face in his hands and his shoulders shake with helpless laughter, clearly fond even with his expression hidden.

“I don’t,” Nie Mingjue lies to make Lan Xichen swat at his leg in reprimand, “maybe someone should explain it plainly.”

“Well, since you’ve asked so politely, Mingjue, when a man has desires he can’t otherwise fulfil with anoth– er-ge!”

Lan Xichen doesn’t so much as pause to appreciate Jin Guangyao’s laughing admonishment as he lays down again with single-minded determination tightening his handsome features into intense focus, stretched out on his stomach and his arms tucked under Nie Mingjue’s spread thighs; he only glances at Jin Guangyao through his lashes on his way down to make sure he gets the expected nod before he’s sliding Jin Guangyao’s cock into his mouth for a second round. Jin Guangyao’s breathless laughter ends on a groan and Nie Mingjue decides to enjoy the view properly this time, doing nothing more than holding Jin Guangyao steady and keeping him as relaxed and pliant as he can manage while he watches Lan Xichen work him in and out of his mouth with occasional flashes of his tongue to give some hint of what he’s doing that’s making Jin Guangyao whimper and shift restlessly in Nie Mingjue’s grip like he can’t quite help himself.

As far as distraction methods go, it’s an extremely effective one.

“I have another technique you know,” Lan Xichen tells Nie Mingjue when Jin Guangyao is recovering again after being gotten off properly, panting harshly in Nie Mingjue’s ear and shivering through intermittent aftershocks lengthened by Lan Xichen’s lazy stroking of his spent cock. “I didn’t want to suggest it when you’re meant to be careful with your cultivation, but tonight…”

It’s fine now that Nie Mingjue is clear-headed and cultivating cleanly for the first time in a long time; Lan Xichen doesn’t say it, but the meaning is clear.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“You’re already familiar with the effects, but not the method,” Lan Xichen hedges, smiling his ‘I’m about to do something sexually mischievous’ smile that Nie Mingjue may or may not be developing some sort of embarrassingly eager physical reaction to. “I believe a demonstration is going to be the most appropriate method of teaching.”

“Of course you do. Will I move A-Yao?”

“He can stay if he’d like, he looks quite comfortable.”

Jin Guangyao, now fully boneless and relying entirely on Nie Mingjue to hold him in place, lifts a weak hand to pat at and around his face until Nie Mingjue relents enough to duck in and kiss him.

“Keep me right here,” Jin Guangyao presses against his mouth. “I want to stay like this.”

Nie Mingjue very carefully doesn’t think about how much he’d like for the request to mean something much more long-term than just tonight and nods, tightening his arm around Jin Guangyao’s middle in silent reassurance.

It takes a little bit of careful readjusting at Lan Xichen’s rather handsy direction to manage a position that makes it both possible to do whatever it is he has in mind that also keeps Jin Guangyao sprawled out so decadently in a way Nie Mingjue is sure he’s never allowed himself to be before, but they manage it with minimal jostling and Nie Mingjue discovers that what Lan Xichen had in mind is another round of slow, steady sex that feels strangely like sinking into a particularly good, warm bath at the end of a long day.

The beats of it are all familiar now, the way the tension in the pit of his stomach coils tighter and tighter as he becomes aware of everywhere he’s being touched all at once, overwhelming and pleasurable and just on the right side of too much in the final moment before Lan Xichen nudges him carefully into the almost comfortable pulse of an orgasm unaccompanied by a rush of his qi. (He realizes on a slight delay that actually there was no qi involved at all.)

He savors it, of course, he isn’t ungrateful, but he is ever so slightly confused as he starts to come down from the peak of it; it was nice, it was good, but there was nothing particularly new and unusual about it. He opens his eyes and his mouth, intending to ask Lan Xichen what he wanted to show him, only to feel a little zing of qi, a sharp zap of it that doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but it definitely gets his attention.

And he’s hard again.

“Oh for— Is that how you do it?!” he asks, incredulous, and Lan Xichen smiles at him so sweetly he must have picked up the trick of it from Jin Guangyao.

“What did he do, ge?” Jin Guangyao mumbles, sounding half-asleep but curious, unwilling to not be a part of this night full of sex he’d so foolishly promised to a man with terrifying stamina and no apparent sense of how much sex is normal and appropriate. Nie Mingjue finds himself abruptly glad that there’s two of them here; he’s not sure if he were alone he’d survive a full night of Lan Xichen when he’s so clearly in a mood.

“To be fair, I didn’t quite realize I was doing it at first,” Lan Xichen explains. “It’s second nature to use my qi for such mundane things like a bit of fatigue, I didn’t make the connection until I was with A-Yao and the first influx of my qi helped him recover much more quickly than anticipated.”

“Mmm I can vouch for that,” Jin Guangyao mumbles; Nie Mingjue ignores the lingering jealousy still nagging at him that he wasn’t a part of that night in favor of turning his head to nuzzle Jin Guangyao’s cheek until he’s pouting and pulling back from the scratch of his mustache.

“Wake up, A-Yao, you’ve created a monster and you should take responsibility.”

“I am fully awake, er-ge’s naked.”

Those two statements don’t seem to be as related as Jin Guangyao apparently thinks but it makes Lan Xichen laugh anyway — his bright delighted one that happens surprisingly rarely for someone as happy as he generally is — so maybe it’s just that Nie Mingjue doesn’t get it, and that’s fine.

“Well if you’re awake then you should realize it’s your turn again.”

“Er-ge didn’t get me hard,” Jin Guangyao points out rather haughtily for someone as muzzy around the edges as he seems to be. Nie Mingjue looks down at him to find him tilting his head back enough to meet his gaze again, and from what Nie Mingjue can see he’s smirking just as much as Lan Xichen is. Nie Mingjue wonders if sex mischief can be deadly, and certainly hopes not. (He will not currently be examining just how desperately he hopes not.)

“You don’t want to go again?”

Jin Guangyao squints up at him for a long moment before he takes a deep breath in and sits up with what looks like a monumental effort. Nie Mingjue hisses for the unexpected friction on his groin and he’s glad that Lan Xichen is already catching Jin Guangyao’s arms and helping him sit up because Nie Mingjue isn’t currently capable of doing anything except trying not to come again from the sensation alone.

(He hadn’t quite realized until tonight that he’s apparently prone to reaching an orgasm more easily after the first few, rather than less.)

“It’s not exactly a question of not wanting to,” Jin Guangyao hedges as he goes up onto his knees (Nie Mingjue’s dick is very grateful) and carefully turns to straddle Nie Mingjue’s waist, his hair a tangled mess and his mouth tipped up into a gorgeously playful little smile. It’s weirdly soothing to see him so clearly enjoying himself, to see him having fun with them. He’d be lying if he said that wasn’t at least half of the reason he’d so thoroughly enjoyed the little show they’d started the evening with, Jin Guangyao so deliciously pleased to have something to lord over him and tease him with that he hadn’t even minded being the subject of his teasing.

Attraction is a strange thing, he’s finding.

When Jin Guangyao does nothing more than watch him expectantly and trace idle circles around one of his pecs with a fingertip, Nie Mingjue breaks enough to sigh and take the obvious bait. “What’s it a question of, then?”

“It’s a matter of principle. You still have a question to ask me, and I believe er-ge deserves his reward now. Don’t you agree?”

Oh.

Nie Mingjue actually feels his blood pressure drop utterly unaided by Lan Xichen and his little cultivation tricks, and though Jin Guangyao can’t see what the reminder did to him he smirks like he knows anyway. He would like to think that under normal circumstances it wouldn’t be nearly so easy to put him on his metaphorical knees and make him obey, but even now he can tell there’s trying to save face and then there’s blatantly lying to himself; that would most certainly fall under the second heading.

He takes a deep breath in, Jin Guangyao’s hands resting on his chest moving with it, and asks, “May I have Xichen’s mouth?”

Jin Guangyao’s dark, assessing eyes flick down to his mouth and then back up to meet his for an endless moment that leaves him feeling more than a little breathless. He sucks in as quiet of a shivering gasp as he can manage when Jin Guangyao finally deigns to let him attempt to calm down; he twists at the hips to look at Lan Xichen behind him and though Nie Mingjue could try to lean to the side to get a good look at their partner as well he finds himself unable to look away from the pure aura of authority Jin Guangyao is suddenly wearing draped over his narrow shoulders. He keeps his gaze fixed on the corner of Jin Guangyao’s jaw, the soft curve of it interrupted with a little pink mark in the shape of Nie Mingjue’s mouth, and he runs his hands slowly up and down the soft, warm expanse of his thighs as he waits. 

The cue Lan Xichen was clearly waiting for had apparently been silent, as one moment Nie Mingjue is waiting on pins and needles for Jin Guangyao to look at him again and the next he’s arching up completely involuntarily with a groan he can’t hope to stop. Lan Xichen’s mouth is hot around him and all hope of higher thought is cheerfully thrown right out the window.

“I know,” Jin Guangyao tells him, muffled against his mouth as he kisses him in a way that’s helping him focus on the present, which really just means that he can feel everything and there’s no sinking away into his own thoughts to try to deal with the onslaught of sensation. Lan Xichen is doing something with his tongue while he sucks on him like he’ll die if he doesn’t, and Jin Guangyao is digging his nails into his chest and biting at his parted lips and it strikes Nie Mingjue in a single heartbeat how very unprepared he feels to have this. He whimpers, there’s really no other word for it, and all it gets him is Lan Xichen helping him throw a leg over his shoulder and Jin Guangyao brushing his tongue along Nie Mingjue’s bottom lip to soothe the sharp echoes of his bites.

It’s the first time he’s felt something on his cock that isn’t a hand, and he feels like that’s a fair enough reason all on its own to find controlling himself nigh on impossible. He must be crushing Lan Xichen between his thighs now both slung over his shoulders, but all Lan Xichen does is suck him harder, take him in a little further with a moan low in his chest, and Jin Guangyao doesn’t do Nie Mingjue the courtesy of muffling the next whine that somehow escapes his throat.

“I know,” Jin Guangyao repeats, sympathetic, and brushes a few sweat-damp wisps of hair off his forehead for him with the pass of a palm. “It’s so much but it’s too good to ask him to stop, hm?”

Coherent speech is just as much of a pipe dream as coherent thought; Nie Mingjue can only nod and choke on a ragged moan bordering on a sob of overstimulation. There’s skin and sweat and heat and such intensely exquisite pleasure everywhere, he’s pinned down beneath both of his lovers and helpless to do anything but accept what they’ve decided to give him, and he’s glad somewhere in the back of his mind beneath the haze of it all that they understand without being told that he feels like he’ll die if they stop touching him.

Lan Xichen doesn’t tease him, whether out of mercy or his own impatience hardly matters. He should probably be embarrassed by how quickly he’s coaxed into another orgasm, Lan Xichen’s cheek pressed against his cock as he rubs circles around the oversensitive head with his fingertips, apparently uncaring that Nie Mingjue must be getting come in his hair as he nuzzles close and kisses the seam of his thigh with eager heat. Jin Guangyao tuts some more, brushes his hair back again, kisses him sweetly — and twists one of his nipples between two knuckles with his free hand until Nie Mingjue becomes absolutely nothing but a vessel for sensation.

“I yield,” is the first thing that comes to mind when he can think again, some strange and syrupy amount of time later. He even goes so far as to tap a hand on Jin Guangyao’s back like a wrestler who’s been born down to the ground, pinned and incapable of escape except by surrender; let him lose face, let him be weaker than the men he loves, he doesn’t care. There’s no valor to be won here, no spectators to jeer and humiliate a Nie who can’t even win a feat of pure brute strength, there’s just his clever lovers and their determination to absolutely destroy him.

“Oh dear,” Jin Guangyao tuts and Nie Mingjue cracks one eye open to glare at him and his smug condescension that’s too fucking attractive for this exact moment in time. “Er-ge, I believe you broke him.”

“I recall you were similarly affected, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen chuckles, “but perhaps we should let him retreat gracefully, since he’s asked so nicely.”

“To think, the great Chifeng-zun bested by nothing more than clever fingers and a talented mouth,” Jin Guangyao muses, tapping his palm against Nie Mingjue’s cheek; he doesn’t stop himself from turning into the gesture, lifting one clumsy hand from beside his hip to catch Jin Guangyao’s wrist and hold him still long enough to kiss his palm in the way he feels like he still can’t get enough of.

“Not nothing more,” he rumbles, “Let’s see how well you fare after you’ve had his mouth and his fingers and his cock in you.”

“Ah?!”

“Oh could I, A-Yao? Please?”

“What?!”

Nie Mingjue can’t help but smirk as Jin Guangyao pushes himself upright again, sitting nearly all of his weight across Nie Mingjue’s waist, and twists to look at Lan Xichen over his shoulder again.

“Er-ge, really? Again?”

“That last barely counted, simply a matter of sympathetic pleasure…”

Did Lan Xichen come just because Nie Mingjue had, with no one even touching him? The evidence suggests yes, as absurd as that sounds.

“You can’t leave him wanting, A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue tells him, still smirking. “How cruel, to let him watch you all night but only please you once. You know how much he likes indulging you.”

“Twice, Mingjue, he’s already had me twice-!”

“So? He’d have you a half dozen times more before dawn if you’d let him,” Nie Mingjue chuckles.

Jin Guangyao blanches ever so slightly and this time Lan Xichen laughs, sweet and delighted, though he calms again quickly in favor of sitting up to straddle Nie Mingjue’s thighs and wrap his arms around Jin Guangyao’s waist, hugging him close and burying his nose and mouth against the crook of his neck.

“Please, A-Yao? Just once, I promise. We should let Mingjue rest. I believe three is enough for him for the night, but you have been more neglected than either of us this evening. Would you like one more?”

‘Neglected’ seems a little strong considering Jin Guangyao has certainly had a couple orgasms of his own already, but then Jin Guangyao is pouting and leaning back against Lan Xichen’s chest with a sweet little, “Er-ge is so attentive,” that’s so clearly an act, though he supposes none of them cares much whether it’s genuine or not.

The pair of them finally climb off him and though he’s left feeling surprisingly bereft after so much intimate contact for hours over the course of the evening, he’s at least relieved that there’s no more risk of stray body parts rubbing or crushing his oversensitive dick. Besides, it’s not like they’ve gone very far. Nie Mingjue turns onto his side and he barely has to stretch his hand half a foot across the bed before he can stroke one featherlight fingertip along the narrow dip of Jin Guangyao’s waist, bared to him and beautifully tempting in its vulnerability.

“Could you pass me the oil, ge?”

Nie Mingjue sits up with a tremendous effort and paws through the bedding clumsily enough the little ceramic pot comes tumbling out and nearly rolls off the bed, the lid thankfully secured by the pair of clever protrusions under the lip of it that mean it can only be loosened in one position. He twists the lid until it comes free and holds the open pot out to Lan Xichen, watching with avid interest as he dips two long fingers into it without bothering to take his mouth off Jin Guangyao’s thigh to watch what he’s doing. He sits there watching, struck dumb by the sight the pair of them make, until Lan Xichen has stretched Jin Guangyao adequately and slicked himself with another glistening scoop of oil on his fingers, and then he closes the pot again to lie down on his side like before, head propped on his fist and free hand stretched out to stroke distracting patterns on Jin Guangyao’s tender waist.

Watching Lan Xichen devote every ounce of his considerable attention to taking Jin Guangyao apart as lovingly and thoroughly as possible is something of a revelation. Watching Jin Guangyao willingly lose himself completely in pleasure, let Lan Xichen break down all his barriers and kiss away all his masks until he’s completely unfiltered for them both to appreciate as he chases his pleasure, is nothing short of miraculous.

“Now I’m satisfied,” Lan Xichen whispers afterwards against Jin Guangyao’s parted lips, kissed and bitten until they’re swollen and rouge-red, “at least enough to sleep.”

“Yes please,” Jin Guangyao whimpers, as much of a tap-out as Nie Mingjue’s literal surrender.

Nie Mingjue can’t even bring himself to raise the question of bathing. He works a rumpled silk brocade blanket the rest of the way out from underneath their tangled bodies and uses some clean section of it to deal with the worst of the mess, the covers underneath it thankfully not so offensive that they won’t be able to sleep under them. Lan Xichen promises to wake them at dawn for a proper bath before they’ll be expected to emerge for breakfast, Nie Mingjue kisses them both with all the tender emotion he can’t articulate, and Jin Guangyao curls up small and protected between them with a happy sigh and the smallest hint of a smile on his lips even after he’s fallen asleep.

Nie Mingjue sleeps like the dead with his arms carefully wrapped around both of them.

[malrie]

20241017 / The Robber and His Sons

What: A now-retired notorious robber’s sons expresses to him that they wish to be robbers too just like him. He advises against this but they do so anyway and get caught trying to steal the queen’s horse. They’re jailed and the queen tells the old robber that since he’s a reformed and famous ex-robber she would release his three sons for every three stories he can tell her about his scariest times as a robber.

The first story (these all happen chronologically after the other in his timeline) is his escape from a giant who was part of a bigger group of giants that split up and ate his crew members. The giant had bad eyes so he pretended to be a doctor who could help, but really just made a concoction to burn the giant’s eyes and body. He still couldn’t escape so he used a disguise of a ram skin to try to leave, pretending to be the sheep the giant shepherded out. He wasn’t able to leave the house and the giant tricked him into wearing a ring that made him yell “here I am” every time so the giant knew where he was. The robber finally cut his finger off and escaped.

The second story is that right after this, he escaped into the wilderness until he found a house where a woman and her son were kidnapped by monsters of the forest (described as similar to apes) that ate people. They told the woman to cook her son for them before they came back. Three hanged men were strung up already so the robber said to use one of the men’s bodies to cook and feed the monsters. However the monsters caught on to the trick and said they would each eat a part of the dead hanging bodies to check if they matched the meat they just ate. So the robber hung himself up with the bodies and let them carve out a piece of his thigh for them to test.

The third story (just a continuation of the above) is that the boss monster said he loved the taste of the robber because he tasted fresh and brought what they thought was his dead body inside the house to finish eating. But as soon as that happened a storm ravaged the house and scared away the monsters. The robber saved the woman and child and reunited them with the woman’s husband.

The queen releases his kids after all this.

Thoughts: I was so discouraged at first when I opened up to this page and saw how long it was because I am SO tired but when I tell you!!! I blasted through this!!! This immediately brought to mind the Odyssey - especially the giant with the bad eyes and trying to trick him by leaving disguised as a sheep/ram. Literature is so circular…. The other cannibal monster story is soooo creepy and cool I can’t believe he withstood pretending to be a dead body as they carved into him LOL what a crazy guy. I do see why he retired now. It’s those stupid kids of his that definitely need to drop the whole robber thing, assuming they don’t know about any of their dad’s stories. Robbery is the one job u can’t just be a nepo baby for jeeeeez. The story-within-a-story part of this is still kind of surprising (thinking of the white snake) but I’m kind of warming to it now. Shockingly I really liked this story! It didn’t fully read like the other fables in the Grimm collection only because it definitely felt a bit more Homeric lol

[archivalofsins]

Oh, fuck I forgot another thing... I never put up part 2 of this. So, here it is lol. Finally put it up when the word doc was at exactly 99 pages too. The tarot still isn't done. god...help..me.

 It’s probably because when Boku Mikoto went to sleep at the beginning of Milgram Ore Mikoto woke up and just did whatever the hell made that boing noise. On top of that all the things that Ore Mikoto does are things that Boku Mikoto has actively tried to quit doing. Mikoto states this during his first interrogation,

Q.17 Do you smoke?

Mikoto: Only electric; I used to smoke real cigarettes in the past but since I started my job, I’ve stopped.

We can discern that this happens after him starting his job because his murders are implied to be heavily tied to his work predicament as the tarot thing explained.

Q.20 Are you more of a morning person or a night person?

Mikoto: I used to be basically nocturnal. Recently though I’ve been falling asleep pretty early.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that right as they show Ore Mikoto begin to watch tv it then transitions to this scene of Boku Mikoto waking up.

So the other guy is more than likely the reason the other prisoners don’t know when he sleeps and that alone may have been why Kotoko had her suspicions about him before his first interrogation. The guy is just in there literally doing anything to release pent up energy to the point Amane made a noise complaint.

I’m not over that boing noise coming from his room. Like what the hell made that noise. I mean if there’s a bed in that cell, he’s jumping on it at that point. Es was too afraid and confused by the boing to go in to check and if Kotoko went in back then she would’ve gotten her ass handed to her.

Because of point C. The other Mikoto has limited patterns of behavior. This is illustrated in the John Doe voice drama when Kotoko fights them. She states that “Your technique is definitely that of an amateur. The way you use those muscles of yours is subpar.” The other Mikoto, unlike what is illustrated in MeMe doesn’t have a full understanding of how to use Mikoto’s strength, at least not in a calculative way.

During MeMe, we see that Mikoto plays into his strengths by using something he’s admittedly educated with a baseball bat. To make up and account for any gap in strength between himself and his targets. Sneak attacking most of his victims as we see Kotoko do as well.

MeMe doesn’t show many brute force head on attacks like we overhear in the John Doe voice drama. However, since memories vary between personalities he always has time to learn the more he’s out. He seemingly learned his lesson from his first encounter with Kotoko since he’s able to fight her off during the intermission.

Kotoko’s birthday interaction with them also supports this framing as he responds to her threats with,

“Haah?! Why don’t you try it then you lunatic?! I’ll crush anyone who tries to harm me. I’ll make sure to thoroughly beat you at your own game!”

Did you catch that last part? I’ll make sure to thoroughly beat you at your own game. The fact that Ore Mikoto is comparing Kotoko’s behavior to a game implies that he is actively working to understand the rules of it. Not just the rules around Kotoko but probably around Milgram as a whole.

Which honestly makes the most sense. For him to actually be able to protect anything he first needs an understanding of what’s going on and where danger could come from. During the intermission he doesn’t go on the offensive immediately like he did in the interrogation room or like Kotoko does. Given he remembers good and well how that turned out even if Mikoto doesn’t.

Instead he spends his time being so outwardly hostile and closed off that Mikoto basically becomes unapproachable. Then actively chews through his restraints. Mikoto's trial two design directly reflects who’s been out the longest. In this case Ore Mikoto who unlike Boku can’t tie his shoelaces perfectly,

Boku Mikoto:

Ore Mikoto:

Scratches at his head messing up his hair instead of rubbing the back of his neck,

Oh, yeah and may eat through leather! None of his restraints were lengthened/undone because of the verdict he just bit through it like a gremlin bastard child. He even ripped the fabric beneath. For comparison let’s put Mikoto side by side with Amane.

The clasps at the bottom of Amane’s restraints are still visible and they’ve lengthened. Showing that they’ve gotten tighter because of her verdict. In contrast Mikoto’s restraints have gotten shorter and looser because he bit and ripped through them. We know this is not a result of his verdict because Jackalope says he’s been running about free and unrestrained.

Even though I find the idea of Kotoko resorting to knawing on Mikoto in their fight just because she was losing that badly amusing it’s implied she didn’t even get close enough to him to do anything. Also, if she did get close enough to do this, she wouldn’t bite at his restraints.

Come on we all know at this point she has a tendency to go for the eyes. Too soon sorry. (It's not too soon at this point!) Sometimes she goes for the arms and legs too though. Okay, okay I’ll stop. That and she would definitely want to keep him restrained. I mean the restraints are the result of Es' judgements and a byproduct of Milgram. So, why would she purposely destroy them if her intended goal is to work alongside the facility?

Honestly, Kotoko taught Ore Mikoto dodge and inspect, then immediately regretted it. She’s just here like this fucker shouldn’t exist because she’s embarrassed to admit that once again in her haste to physically assault people for kicks she ended up causing more problems for herself. That’s what she gets for showing her hand early in the interrogation room, I suppose. Something she was called out for by Yuno after her whole attack during the break.

Now that we’ve gone over why Kotoko couldn’t do shit to Ore Mikoto during their second round. What does this mean? Well, it means that once again, like with the hangman, his current state is something self-inflicted. It also means Haruka isn’t the only one learning stuff in Milgram Ore Mikoto is slowly learning as well. Yet, if he’s learning how to be a calculative fighter now... I'm sincerely asking again, then what’s with the behavior in MeMe?

Dissociative Amnesia is when someone is incapable of remembering integral personal information about themselves. Information that would usually normally not be forgotten due to general forgetfulness. Usually, the information forgotten is directly connected to one’s conscious awareness and would be described as autobiographical memory.

Is anyone starting to see why after writing all this and looking this song over more times than I should have, it keeps coming back to how the murders are depicted within the mv. The way it conflicts with all the information we have on the other personality but coincides with what we know about Mikoto. All this is what has led me to believe the murders weren’t done by Ore Mikoto but by Boku Mikoto, who, like Es said from the start forgot he did it.

More than likely due to dissociative amnesia. So, let’s talk about that.

What’s dissociative amnesia?

Is there a difference between it and dissociative identity disorder?

Can you have one without the other?

Is this starting to click yet; are you getting what I’m putting down? Mikoto doesn’t remember his murder but that’s not because Ore Mikoto did it. In fact, as stated before, Mikoto very well could have had undiagnosed dissociative identity disorder way before any of this even happened.

Dissociative amnesia can occur after most traumatic experiences. Even though the memory isn’t consciously accessible by the individual it can still subconsciously impact their behavior and mannerisms. For example, if someone is recorded doing something and it’s shown to a lot of people, they may forget the incident itself happened and what they did in response to it but subconsciously be hypervigilant about being surveilled.

All without really remembering why.

Mikoto is very straightforward when it comes to doing things with others in mind, and it’s heavily implied this isn’t a mentality that started recently through the lyrics of his song. That his whole life he’s probably been doing that, and while it’s easy to go oh he just snapped and then the other personality appeared.

That’s not how DID works, baby. So, let’s get into that and any other wrong assumptions. So, speed run. Mikoto isn’t bad system rep cause DID is not a system. At least it’s not when it’s formed. What?? I hear you asking it’s not? No, it’s fucking not and I’d enjoy it if people would stop asserting it is. Because it’s never been. If you’re looking for system representation though that’s Amane.

I have no kind way of saying this please stop imposing surface level interpretations of actual disorders on media and people.

Wait but Amane isn’t a system? Okay, let me break it down for you. A system is usually what people with dissociative identity disorder work towards having after becoming aware of these other personalities. Until they are actively made aware of these separate personalities it is unlikely that a system will exist. This is the reason Boku Mikoto has at least to Jackalopes admission been restrained but Ore Mikoto has not been.

Now why are you saying a genuine case of dissociative identity disorder isn’t a system the same thing. NO, NO IT’S NOT! That’s OSDD or Partial Dissociative Identity Disorder.

Milgram has already made it clear that the thing stopping the prisoners from attacking Es was imposed through a form of psychological manipulation. This manipulation makes them believe there’s a barrier between them and Es. However, the truth is they’ve been mentally conditioned to not be able to hit Es. The reason this conditioning only affects Boku Mikoto and not Ore Mikoto is because they are existing in two separate mental states not as a system.

I feel like that should’ve been the first hint that it wasn’t a system but a genuine case of dissociative identity disorder. Unlike in a system where there is some communication between separate personalities, or they are at least aware of each other’s existence. Other personalities when it comes to dissociative identity disorder aren’t really controlled, spoken to in that capacity, and most times the person with the disorder can be completely unaware that they have it until much later in life.

But what are those?!

Okay, OSDD stands for Other Specified Dissociative Disorder. It’s just as difficult to get diagnosed with. However, when people don’t fit all of the criteria necessary to be diagnosed with DID yet have been facing long term issues that cause distress or impairment along with some dissociative symptoms, they likely would be diagnosed with this.

On the other hand, Partial Dissociative identity Disorder is a more recent term for a type of OSDD. It’s unlikely that you’d come across the term in North America unless you were doing an essay or something but who would do that… It’s also possibly what Amane has.

It’s when a person still experiences disturbances with their personality, like with DID, but there is a dominant personality. Intrusion from other parts is usually irregular and may only happen during emotional or distressing situations. This is more reminiscent of the discussions around systems brought up as points of contention to the depiction of Mikoto’s DID.

Remember that first post the prelude or preface when I said, “All we’re missing is overt ableism, racism, and sexism disguised as feminism.” Bet most thought that wasn’t coming up again.

But guess what we’ve got one baby! We found it, OVERT ABLEISM! Pop the champagne ma we made it! Okay fake celebration aside. Yeah, now while some thought they were being kind, others considerately just advocating for better rep most were just grossly uninformed. That’s something anyone can be regardless of if they have the disorder or not.

I’m not going to claim that I know everything about autism or adhd just because I have them both. Hell, I only skimmed my diagnosis forms. I don’t believe any neurodivergent person would or should claim to know everything about the disorder they have. Unless I don't know they're a psychologist specializing in the disorder I suppose. Even then a person’s diagnosis is very personal to them, and I can’t tell anyone who has DID or any other diagnosis how they should personally feel about how said diagnosis is represented in media.

However, how someone personally feels and what’s being asserted as fact are two different things. The only people being hurt by the assertion that dissociative identity disorder only works one specific way is people with that disorder. Most of whom go undiagnosed for a multitude of reasons.

Look, I know it hurts to be called out for internalized ableism or any ism. I’m not trying to be a dick about it. It sucks but sometimes ableism is caused by well-meaning people who don’t know what they’re talking about. Being misinformed and under educated can cause instances of discrimination. Instances that can be avoided by taking a moment to step back and genuinely ask do I know enough about this topic.

Especially when it comes to something as personal and diverse as mental health. If the answer is no then go do research, look for information, broaden your horizons. If your opinion still hasn’t changed that’s fine but you’ll be more informed and better equipped to explain why. We’re all learning together here. Do you really think I planned that reveal out.

Sure, I had a feeling that Amane may have a dissociative disorder before starting this essay and even discussed it with friends. However, the overt ableism thing is something I discovered alongside everyone as I was typing this. Okay maybe a bit earlier since I’m not putting this up directly after typing this. Or am I? No, we’re not.

You don’t even have to believe me. I did say do your own research after all. Since I said that this is a great time to list the books I got as references for this. Because I too could be full of shit. I am not a psychiatrist because I didn’t finish college and I’m here now still in debt writing over sixty pages on a fictional character and typing out an existential crisis-  

REFERENCES

Eich, E., Macaulay, D., Loewenstein, R.J., Dihle, P.H. (1997). Implicit Memory, Interpersonality Amnesia, and Dissociative Identity Disorder. In: Read, J.D., Lindsay, D.S. (eds) Recollections of Trauma. NATO ASI Series, vol 291. Springer, Boston, MA.

Kluft, R.P. (1996). Dissociative Identity Disorder. In: Michelson, L.K., Ray, W.J. (eds) Handbook of Dissociation. Springer, Boston, MA.

Reinders, A.A.T.S., Willemsen, A.T.M. (2014). Dissociative Identity Disorder and Fantasy Proneness: A Positron Emission Tomography Study of Authentic and Enacted Dissociative Identity States. In: Dierckx, R., Otte, A., de Vries, E., van Waarde, A., den Boer, J. (eds) PET and SPECT in Psychiatry. Springer, Berlin, Heidelberg. International Society for the study of trauma and disassociation: What are the dissociative disorders.

Now back to Amane. How do we know that she is the system or partial dissociative identity disorder rep people are looking for? Because they show it in the Minigrams all the time.

Since this is a common gag in some anime and manga it’s easy to overlook. The most recent example of this I can think of is My Next Life as a Villainess. However, what sets Amane apart from that iteration of this trope is one thing. Shidou keeps getting in there too.

The reason Shidou keeps finding his way into this council may not just be a funny little gag but in fact a way to allude to there being a system here. Not only that but Shidou just may be directly impacting it. Amane’s entire council is only made up of variations of herself until Shidou appears out of the blue one day.  It’s even shown that at times Shidou isn’t even still discussing the thing that Amane is deliberating on in her head. Like here-

In Amane’s mind Shidou appears and brings up the phrase seeing is believing. Which honestly sounds like something he would say but when she throws the pancakes in his face he’s begun discussing where the word pancake comes from. He’d already said this is something she wouldn’t be able to understand until she experienced it herself. There’s not much reason for him to reiterate that again but this time attach it to a saying.

Plus, the next time he appears in the council he doesn’t even speak before the other Amane’s run out screaming then Amane our usual Amane throws the pancakes in his face. The council doesn’t try to kick Shidou out from the table or just kill him.

They’re just trying to avoid him so his presence doesn’t impact their judgements which would explain the fear filled screaming especially if up there it’s only been them for the longest time.

Plus, it’s not out of character for Amane to react viscerally to him getting up there. Yet him getting in there shows that regardless of how much Amane wants to admit it or not he is growing on her. This interpretation fits with her first cover Positive Parade as well.

“We can’t stop. You’ll be alright and end up smiling beautifully. I’m not wrong but if someone says “no that’s not right” I won’t support anything that denies you.” Also, literally today as I’m typing this:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAHIRU

Also, thanks for accidentally helping prove my point lol-

Amane: Happy Birthday. Mahiru; how has your condition been lately?

Mahiru: Ah, Amane; thank you. Yes, I’m fine. If I use a wheelchair, I can still move around. It’s all thanks to Shidou’s treatment.

Amane: It is only appropriate that I give a warning first. The realm you and Shidou are treading within is forbidden. If you continue to work against or disrupt the natural order, you’ll only hasten your demise. So, think about your next steps carefully.

Mahiru: Amane…Are you actually, Amane?

Sometimes things just fall together was literally messaged this by Star after having a phone call about this exact topic. Also, lol, Amane literally went if God wanted you to walk, you’d be walking get out of that wheelchair. Like come on Amane it’s a wheelchair calm down. She is not toeing the same line as Shidou. He is a literal doctor she’s just injured. Leave her alone!

Damn she really hates all aspects of medicine.

Mahiru is so unlucky she gets jumped almost dies and then is threatened for using a mobility aid by a fifteen-year-old. Mahiru and Mikoto having some of the worst birthday interactions this trial. Like happy birthday Kotoko- You shouldn’t exist. Happy birthday Mahiru, also if you continue to test fate you will meet yours sooner tee hee. As they’re just there like “???”

I didn’t even really need to defend this idea this much since the minigrams literally tell us all this is happening in her head with a big sign but we’re here now so…

That’s not even going into all the similarities and contradictions between her and Mikoto. Her believing deeply in a higher power while he says he doesn’t believe because there’s nothing he’d gain from it. Yet, clearly believing in Tarot a great deal. They both committed murder through bludgeoning and have the same empty look in their eyes in their trial two designs. So, we may have gotten two forms of dissociative rep. Though I get the kneejerk reactions since I rarely saw any decent representation if any growing up.

So, sure people were uninformed, but does that really make it ableist? Can't it just be being uneducated?

People assumed that there was a typical way DID presented itself and felt that Mikoto didn’t properly represent that. Ableism is the discrimination of and social prejudice against people with disabilities under the belief that people with typical abilities are superior. A lot of people assume ableism cannot happen within disabled communities. It very much can.

Even without stating ableism can occur wherever a norm or typical depiction of something exists whether physical or psychological. Which a good chunk of the fanbase tried to create a standard version of DID. Something that in of itself is already a problem.

It’s literally just ableist to ask if someone is really disabled, how disabled they are, or imply they’re faking. Made incredibly worse by the fact that Mikoto never self-reported having DID. Everyone else but him has said he has it. So, how the fuck is he faking at that point?

For a racial equivalent I’ve personally experienced it’s basically going, “You don’t talk black?” Except as a person with a disability I got its lovely variant, “You talk so well you can’t possibly have autism.” That stopped me from getting tested for autism before. That psychiatrist went I know what’s actually wrong with you it’s low self-esteem you just communicate so well when you open up it can’t be autism.

Congratulations; can you communicate while also having Autism? Then some specialist may believe you aren’t entitled to your diagnosis. Or even just, “But you can write entire essays on a topic how could you have ADHD but pay attention that long. Are you sure you’re not just looking for an excuse to be lazy.”

To the surprise of no one that first lady was also racist cause isms tend to come in pairs. Spent a session telling me that critical race theory shouldn’t be taught in schools. Honestly, no one would believe the people with psychiatry degrees in my state. The woman who diagnosed me immediately weaponized the diagnosis against me and begin being directly ableist towards me.

It’s no secret that I’m 27 (at the time I wrote this I am now 28 can you believe how time and my inability to do shit in a timely manner coincide) and this fandom skews on the younger side for a psychological murder show with a heavy mystery aspect… So, I can’t be too surprised that this isn’t common knowledge, I guess.  I’m saying all this to get the point across that I am a full ass adult but when she found out I had autism she literally just started talking about me to my father like I was still a child. Basically, just talking about me and not to me.

She would also repeat things over and over like do you understand. Then got really mad when all her testing was finished and she discovered my verbal comprehension (vci) was above those of approximately 99% of my peers as though I was just pretending to be stupid. I was just here like oh your fancy test says I’m not a dumbass look at that. She also withheld my diagnosis forms from me and lied about sending them to my primary care doctor. Had to fax that shit to them myself.

Is it apparent I’ve faced multiple forms of discrimination at this point because got damn. Everyone experiences ableism in different ways and as it happens they might not even know it’s that. My experiences won’t align with everyone else’s and that’s absolutely okay. In that same vein I think it’s okay for Mikoto, Haruka, and Amane to not be perfect representations of whatever disabilities they may have. At the end of the day I don’t think their murders had anything to do with their disabilities and trying to play it off as though they do is a disservice to them.

It's like Amane said with her age we shouldn’t treat her any differently just because she’s a child. Because that doesn’t mean she has any less of a freewill than the others here and it’s the same when it comes to disabilities as well. Every type of person can be a murderer not just people with disorders or disabilities.

So, I think there’s ableism involved here absolutely.

It also certainly didn’t help that I saw a good deal of people putting forth that the writer was perpetuating a harmful stereotype despite there not being any proof of that outside of the confirmation Mikoto had DID. I don't think this has to be said but a character having a confirmed disorder doesn't immediately make them bad representation. Some went as far as projecting the same stereotype, they were against on the media to further prove it was bad.

It's fine to dislike the dipiction or Mikoto as a character but I feel it's reaching shakey ground when people are going this character having confirmed insert mental disorder here is bad. Not only that but I believe it should be interrogated why this mindset was displayed when it came to Mikoto having DID but not Haruka possibly having autism. I feel the response to Mikoto and his narrative serves to highlight just how stigmatized and overlooked DID remains even now.

Super fun. Moving on.

Then through doing this most of the fandom fell right into the exact same stereotypes and subconscious biases that negatively affect people with dissociative identity disorder on the regular basis. Grossly asserting that he must be faking because the way it presents in him doesn’t fit ones view of the disorder or how the internet has presented it, immediately blaming and asserting the other personality committed the murders check, saying he deserves to be in there cause he’s either a danger to others or himself check. Something made worse simply because individuals who have DID and no more than two personality states are often times accused of faking more than those who have more than two.

However, it's still difficult for either types of people to get diagnosed or taken seriously just because of how the disorder continues to be meet with a wide range of skepticism both publicly and professionally.

Unlike with what Amane has where there is a dominant personality. The thing that makes d.i.d difficult to manage and deal with is that lack of communication and awareness when it comes to the issue. At times dissociative identity disorder can form rapidly due to incredibly traumatizing situations. However, Mikoto’s situation may not be one of those cases.

Okay follow me for a bit we know that Mikoto remembers playing baseball in high school from his first trial interrogations questions.

 “Do you have baseball experience?

I played baseball in high school; I wasn't very good at it though. I still practice my swing when I get frustrated with work.”

Remember that emphasis I put on the pullback in the swing on that attack in the previous post go back and look at the pictures if you need to. The reason we highlighted that is because it shows an understanding of how much strength is needed to get the desired result. This sort of move as we've gone over doesn’t seem like the guy we heard fighting Kotoko in the interrogation room or heard about fighting her off when she had weapons like plural not just a single weapon.

Certain behavior from Mikoto after doesn’t make sense like the thing on Kotoko’s birthday. Would he really attempt to call a truce with her after experiencing being attacked by her even if it was the other who faced the attack unlike with being watched Mikoto shows very little- Well, more so no signs of being wary of Kotoko after either of their conflicts.

Let’s talk about interpersonality amnesia. It’s exactly as it sounds amnesia between personality states. There is already a solid example of how this works within Milgram. It is the reason that the other personality within Mikoto can hit Es and Mikoto cannot. Whatever conditioning that occurred to have the prisoners be incapable of hitting Es did not occur to the other personality.

In fact it’s pretty much like it didn’t even happen to him. Because it didn’t it happened to the other guy. His continued wariness around being surveiled is consistent with what we know about dissociative amnesia. He remembers what triggered the trauma to avoid it but for now at least to our knowledge not the trauma itself. This issue could occur even if he already had dissociative identity disorder before facing this trauma.

As of now the other Kayano knows about their murders to some capacity even believing he was right to respond in the way he did without specifying what he was responding to. Because of this he has no reason to be chummy with anyone here and while he’s out he hasn’t been. Because if he knows that they themselves have killed, then they’d have no reason to believe that the others haven’t like Mikoto does at the beginning of Milgram.

Mikoto asserts that he hasn't killed anyone so more than likely no one else did. Because if Milgram is wrong about him which it must be than how could they be right about the others. Basically he labeled everyone else as Innocent in his own mind through association to himself. He pretty much goes if I murdered someone well I'd know that wouldn't I and all I do know is I haven't. Sure my memory is bad but I wouldn't forget something like that surely.

The memory of that conditioning is therefore specific to the Kayano who was fronting at the time of their incarceration. This is probably why Jackalope reacts to Mikoto settling back down as an issue because that conditioning can’t take place without the other personality out. It's could also be why despite the other Mikoto knowing they did something he's also vague about it when talking to Es during the first trial. When asked about if he remembers his murder now instead of confirming or denying it he just laughs and says Es doesn't know when to shut up.

This can be viewed as a confirmation that he knows or showcase that he's does know they did someone but what exactly could be lost on him as well. If it's a memory Mikoto lost due to dissociative amnesia then the other guy may not know a thing about the sin Mikoto was brought in for just his part in it. If Mikoto was pushed to brink of stress the other personality could have come out during the crimes. In most sce es in MeMe Mikoto seems to have firm control over the situation. However, as I believe we discussed in the previous post if Mikoto was injured during one of his attacks successfully had the tables turned on him it's not unlike the other guy would come out in response to that.

This could be why he immediately rushes Kotoko and jumps to violence with Es because he learned the best thing to do when facing conflict is get offensive before your opponent does. Just charge in because if you don't you could end up dying instead. So when cornered by Kotoko he immediately fell back on what he did before rushing in.

Now the thing with the conditioning could be proven false if the Kayano who was incarcerated attempts and succeeds at hitting Es sometime later. However, the likelihood of that is nonexistent due to said Kayano’s statements on violence. Since he thinks resorting to violence is immature and embarrassing, he is less likely to attack Es overall. Especially given the fact that he still holds to the belief that he is being surveilled. A belief that at this point has been confirmed. So, this is much less likely to be an action he takes, especially in a room where he knows he is being recorded like during interrogations.

However, it seems that the guilty verdict from trial one has pushed Kayano to such a state of stress that such a buildup is no longer necessary for a personality change to occur. Basically, he’s constantly stressed now. This is saying something given the fact he was already on the edge when he was brought into Milgram. Given his hyperveligence about being surveiled and tge fact he is now being forced to live in a panopticon for an indefinite period of time and his concerns about losing his job.

Honestly, if Mikoto heard the recording of him in the John Doe voice drama he’d probably die of embarrassment or never leave his cell again. Personality shifts in people with d.i.d at times can have very specific triggers. Kayano has made it clear on numerous occasions that theirs is stress. We saw on Kotoko’s birthday that switching between personalities has become more common and more seamless. We hear Kayano begin to hyperventilate (as a result of Es' continued assertion that he's a murderer and then weaponization of Kayano's admittedly poor and now poorer memory against him) before the other personality presents itself in the John Doe voice drama.

Okay, finally done. I doubt anyone is gonna finish this.

All of this leads us to believe that there's a high chance that if Mikoto Kayano is voted Guilty again that we won’t be seeing the Kayano brought in by Milgram at all third trial. The second trial commencement notice even alludes to this by saying we'd need to get the other Kayano out again for him to be restrained. Because the restraint within Milgram isn't just tying them up but mental conditioning as well there's no telling how it will affect the two personality states.

For all any of us know it could very well be the equivalent of forcibly merging the two states together.

[acourtofthought]

Someone on tik tok made a video asking anyone who supports Gwynriel specifically to give her one shred of evidence that hints towards them being together. AND if you mention the ribbon or shadows she’s going to laugh bc that’s not enough. Ok…I mean there are other reasons hinted at for sure, but those are a start lol. Since Eriel is so “obvious” why can’t we start with obvious hints towards Gwynriel?

I’m fine with having difference of opinions but it gets exhausting when people tell you that if you interpret things differently, you’re just making stuff up and that there’s nothing there and they barely spoke, etc. I think that’s the worst part of the whole argument. It’s not that people disagree, it’s how people basically call each other stupid for having the opposing opinion. Plus… it’s not stupid when you can pull out the book and flip to the direct page number to prove your point (that goes for either side). Lol. Sorry, just needed to vent for a minute bc my husband doesn’t understand and gets the characters confused when I try to explain it all to him 😂

Feel free to vent!! I think even if a significant other was willing to listen to our frustrations, if they're not invested in the series they won't be able to fully understand 😂 At this point I think it's safe to say "there's no reasoning with crazy". The back and forth does get exhausting and frustrating but that's because there's never any meeting in the middle or moment of pause where the other side goes, "yeah, I can see how that looks like something in favor of your ship." They just point blank refuse to admit that something could be hinting at a Gwynriel or Elucien romance. I honestly believe SJM tanked E/riel in ACOSF but before that I completely see all the moments where she could have been building them if she wanted. There are things that stand out very clearly as, "this right here could have been a hint for E/riel" if she had chosen to continue down that path. But those moments were always followed by Az then staring at Mor with longing, Elain taking that moment and turning her back on it which essentially means she was turning her back on Az (in the long run) or they were preceded by the fact that someone else had the idea to help Elain before Az. So those moments definitely amounted to something between E/riel (a shared rebound of sorts) but didn't suggest endgame potential. Eluciens and Gwynriels rarely deny that E/riel had "moments'. They just theorize that those moments won't lead to anything lasting. With E/riels though, they won't even consider Gwynriel / Elucien moments as having the potential to lead to something romantic. Not a crush, not a rebound, definitely not endgame, just nothing. And I think that's because if they admit that, they will then need to try to prove to themselves why Gwynriel or Elucien won't end up together in the long term and they struggle to do that. Because there's not real reasons why Gwynriel and Elucien (if open to a relationship) really wouldn't be compatible. So it's easier to deny, deny, deny and that's the hill they're dying on. They hold fast to Elain not wanting a Mate in the novella and convince themselves that can never change (regardless that the text tells us she also didn't want a Male). They hold fast to Gwyn maybe being nervous around males at the start of ACOSF and convince themselves that can never change (regardless of what the text actually tells us). They put blinders on the second SJM begins to change what the character is experiencing if it goes against E/riel and there never will be any getting through to them. When someone shuts down and figuratively sticks their fingers in their ears so they can't hear you, it's going to be a waste of breath and time for us. I'm not saying not to fight those fights because sometimes their takes are too ridiculous not to comment on. But do it because it makes you feel better to get your thoughts out there. Do it so that maybe someone who is on the fence and not as knowledgeable about the series can have a clearer picture. But don't do it because you have any hope you'll get through to an E/riel. It's truly a losing battle and the ONLY thing that will ever change their mind is if SJM releases an Elucien or Gwynriel book.

[mrmisery0]

10/9/23

Winter makes me so depressed. It gets to 4pm and it’s already dark and I feel like that there’s no day left. I’m so tired and sore constantly too. The cold this year has made my arthritis symptoms the worst they’ve ever been. At least this time I’m seeing a doctor who takes me seriously.

I’ve been trying to read again. I used to love it as a kid. I don’t know when it happened but I stopped being able to hold my attention like I used to and I couldn’t read books for ages. Last week I was out and thought I’d look in qbd quickly, partly because I’d been thinking about my job application that I put in a few days earlier for there, but also because I’ve liked the idea of reading again recently. Well I got a book, The call of the wild, and I read it all that afternoon. It was short only 90 pages or so but I was happy with myself for doing it. It wasn’t a super happy or exciting book but I sat there and read it on the bus and then on the couch and then outside with my gf and I didn’t let myself move to my phone for faster gratification. Since then I’ve bought two more books and I hope to read them soon, though I feel like I’m more of someone who likes to think they read rather than one who actually does. I mean I’ve just read one book lol I’m not back into it yet I just want to be.

The same is true with bass. I’m scared that it’s not me anymore, it’s something I want to be me and I say that it is but there’s no evidence for that. I haven’t been playing. We went out for my friends birthday to a gig and it made me so happy. I haven’t been going to gigs because it’s too fucking cold by the time they end and I have to bus home but maybe I should get a better jacket and tough it out because it made me excited about music again.

I wrote in an old journal that a new jacket is like a new identity or a new perspective and I feel like I need that! I’m feeling so stuck and miserable. The things I identify with make me feel like a fraud. I have pieces of things that I know theoretically I love and are parts of me but I never actually participate in those things. Right now I’m just a sad dude who wishes he was in a band and played bass but can’t get himself to do anything about it. I’m going to need to do something about it if I want to go to school for it next year. I’ve got less than 6 months now. I failed last year and put it off but I don’t want to put off this anymore. It’s too important to me.

Next week I’ll be one year on testosterone but I feel so depressed about how little I feel has changed. My voice has changed but not enough to satisfy me. I sound masculine but if I speak in a room of other guys I will always have the highest voice. Maybe I do need to do voice training. My friend starts t a few days after I’m one year on and I’m terrified he’ll transition so much “better” than me. He keeps saying he hopes his voice will change all the way. That it won’t just go half the way. I don’t know if he’s aware that he’s hurting my feelings but he really is. I don’t want to think I’d be so awful as to be jealous of him but I’m scared that it’ll be too much for me. Maybe it’s been my dose? The gp seems to think I’ve changed enough but I can’t help but compare myself to others. Hopefully it’ll get better. My before and after photos are almost the exact same. Maybe it’s because I’m young.

I’ve been thinking about what it would be like if we moved to Melbourne. There would be so many gigs to go to and so many cool people to meet and gf could do so many art things. It could be great. Right now it would only happen after school next year, so probably this time next year. We’d live near my aunt and I’d work in a coffee shop or a bar and do music the rest of the time. Gf would make her art and do art shows and we’d have good friends and feel comfortable.It’s a nice dream.

I think this week I’ll try and read Maurice. At least start it. I really liked to movie when I was younger. And I’ll go look for that new jacket.

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Hey I’m new here and I’m growing to love your page. Plan on staying, if you don’t mind. How have you been? I’m trying, a lot has been happening recently.

Recently, I can’t stop thinking about my future spouse. Will he be tall, dark and handsome? Where is he from ? How will we meet? So many questions LOL!!!! But I do feel like I will meet him soon.

My guides have led me to these emojis: 🙏🏾🙃💍🧏🏾‍♀️🔦

So, that’s why I have been looking for the right person to ask, that would tell me what I’m only allowed to know and should know at this point. I feel like that’s you.

Please help me out. Only if you feel like, of course. Enjoy the rest of your day! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

These questions you are asking… they show that you are trying to control the situation and outcome instead of trusting the universe. The thing is, those 20s-40s are in an age where we are deeply shifting what home, family and life dynamics can be. We are a guinea pig generation which is why so many of us are struggling. Men as a collective are going through huge changes and it’s just they can’t evolve over night.

🙏🏾🙃💍🧏🏾‍♀️🔦 🙏🏾🙃💍🧏🏾‍♀️🔦 🙏🏾🙃💍🧏🏾‍♀️🔦 🙏🏾

The type of questions you asked… is he talk dark and handsome? How would you feel if your future spouse asked a reader does she have big tits and a small waist?

You being as guarded as you are is a problem. You haven’t allowed yourself to date and learn more about yourself when it comes to romantic love. Your understanding of relationships and how to engage is a skill that you develop through trying. You aren’t generally gonna pick up something new and be a pro. Even if you meet the perfect partner, being guarded now is preventing you from growth.

What you need to do is let go go the fantasy of love and marriage and engage in the reality of meeting people, putting yourself out there and trying. The universe and you are co creating, how could they bring you your partner when you are guarded? Furthermore you wouldn’t likely be able to recognize them because you haven’t truly been able to see what works for you because you have taken yourself out of experiencing that.

None of what you asked about your future spouse was about them as a person, what their character is like, do they love their mom, are they kind to animals, all of it was very surface level stuff that doesn’t actually tell you anything about a person, only the illusion of the person. You asked what your love story will be like which again indicates to me you are still caught up in the illusion of romance.

In order to move forward, you need to heal what is closing you off. You need to go experience life and stop holding back, learn to open your energy and expand.

Card Pull— Druid Craft Tarot

Seven of cups, reversed—“making a mature decision not to satisfy your immediate desires, but to work towards a goal that will bring rewards later. Losing touch with reality. Realistic plans based on common sense and a clear vision of the goal.”

So this card reinforces what I was saying about you being caught up in an illusion of love that is actually blocking you on a deep level from experiencing anything. Further more a realistic plan based on common sense would be—if I want to get married to someone, then I need to date and meet people. Most people I’ve met who know they want a romantic relationship go out and date or at least put themselves in situations that would allow someone to meet them and talk to them. If not dating, go pursue hobbies where you may meet someone with a similar interest, try new things, become the person you want to be with. Do you want a fit man? Are you fit? Someone who cooks? Learn to cook. I think you have been approaching romance in a very impractical way and in order to get what you want you need to open up, do things differently and let go of the fantasy you have.

I know this isn’t the sweet lovey message you wanted but this is what came through. This is what you need to know about being able to meet your future spouse one day. This is the core of what will actually get you there. It may feel harsh to hear but spirit gives tough love sometimes. I really hope you will read what I wrote and actually take it to heart and try to approach things differently. You are holding yourself back and all I want is for you to see how so you can stop.

Wishing you healing and growth. These things aren’t easy. Best of luck to you! I hope this helps! 💕✨🌈

[zepskies]

Oooh we sure are getting into the thick of it now! ��

So happy to say goodbye to Michael! I can’t believe he really thought he could justify his actions and she’d take him back, the fact that he just stood there while the reader was covered in glass proves he really didn’t think anything through. 🤦‍♀️ Let’s not even get into how he tried to blame the woman he cheated on the reader with like it was her fault that he made mistakes and lied about them. 🙄

Michael personified the most toxic of audacity in a man. He "really thought." And he was too shocked at what had happened to her when she fell to even kick his ass into gear and help, despite being a firefighter. 🙄

However, luckily we got to see some protective Beau. He really is a sweetheart, I can practically hear the voice every time he calls her darlin’! 🥰 Seeing him be angry at Michael (rightfully so) but still being gentle with the reader was adorable. He really is a teddy bear around those he loves, but isn’t afraid to go directly into protective mode for them. 💕

Beau is the sweetest! It may take him a while to get on the right page with his feelings, but you said it right: he's a mush when it comes to the people he loves, but def a protective grizzly bear when he needs to be lol. 💗🐻

I’m so glad Beau finally found someone he can open up to, even if that whole scene made me cry a little (and by a little I mean a lot.) 😭 I’m happy he’s not only found someone who he can talk to but also that he’s in a place where he feels like he can open up to at least one person. Beau really does have a big heart and cares a lot about the people around him, it made me happy seeing the reader comfort him the way he deserves. 🥰

Awww while I'm so sorry I made you cry, I'm also not sorry? 😂 In the way that I'm so glad you were able to connect to that part of the scene. 💕 This is one of my favorite chapters for that exact reason: he's found someone he feels safe enough to open up to. And she understands the gravity of it all for him, does her best to be there for him.

One thing I especially love is that you didn’t make the reader super jealous of Carla, she likes Beau and all but she understands the situation with Carla joining Emily in staying with him for the time being, and she’s willing to be patient with him. I think he deserves that kind of understanding in his life. 💜

Yeah I don't like creating or reading petty jealousy between women. I never like to go that route unless it makes sense for the characters' personalities. The reader understands full well that Carla and Emily are potentially in danger, and Beau's trying to protect them the best he can. But also a great point that Beau needs that kind of understanding in his life, especially at this moment. 💜💜

And don’t even get me started on that kiss! It was so sweet while having just the right amount of spice. 🥵 Theres just something about this cowboy mixed with some cute spice.. I can’t even articulate it. (Honestly there’s just something about this adorable cowboy in general)

Hahaa I'm so glad you enjoyed a little spice at the end there.~ 🌶️

This sunshine cowboy has an edge for sure, and that will definitely be explored in the near future. 😘 (I get what you mean. It's like, he's soft, but he could also break your back -- in the best of ways lmao.)

ZEP!! If you’re doing what I think you’re doing with that sneak peek of part seven… oh boy, we’re really getting into it. 😧 I can’t wait to see what you’ve cooked up but I’m so nervous for that!!

Lmaoooo I can neither confirm nor deny... 😉😉

Thank you so much for this amazing review of Part 6!! I can't wait to bring you the next chapter in a couple of days. 💕

Take Me Home - Part 6

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

AN: Get ready for a rollercoaster of emotions…

Word Count: 4.6K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, tinge of spice~

❤️ Series Masterlist

“Michael?! What are you doing here?” you asked. 

He stood there with determination set across his face.

“We really need to talk.”

“We already did! Just leave me the hell alone,” you said. If your day hadn’t been long already, you knew it was about to be even longer. 

Because just as you began to close the door, Michael slapped a hand on the center of it and pushed his way into your apartment.

You gasped and had to back up a couple of steps. “What are you doing?”

“Just hear me out, and then I’ll leave,” Michael said, staring down into your eyes. “That’s all I want.”

He pushed the door closed behind him, but it swung open, just a crack. In his heated state, he hadn’t even noticed. Neither did you. You stepped back further into the center of the living room and crossed your arms with an angry frown. 

“I don’t care!” you snapped. Your patience quota for the day had run out a long time ago. “I just want to be done. Don’t you get that?”

“I know,” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked tired as hell; like he hadn’t been sleeping well for weeks. Now in the light of day and not a dusky bar, you could see the darkness under his eyes and the stubble on his cheeks, though he was usually clean-shaven. 

“I know and I’m sorry. I hurt you badly, and I never even told you why,” he said.

You tilted your head in contemplation. Because he was right. For all these months, you’d been so incensed at the bare facts of what he’d done, you’d never looked too deeply into the why.

The one time you’d asked him (while throwing his clothes and possessions out of your shared apartment at the time), he’d never given you a good answer.

“Okay, fine. Why did you do it then?” you asked. “Why did you betray me in the worst way possible, and still try to marry me?”

Michael sighed, his shoulders sinking. “The truth?”

That sparked your anger once more.

“No, keep lying to me like you’ve done from the very start!” you retorted.

“It wasn’t from the start!” he barked back. “It was around six months in, when we were dating. You and I had argued about something stupid. Kate came over to talk it out with me…just to talk. I swear to God. But we were drinking and…”

You let out a sigh, casting your gaze upwards. You really didn’t think you wanted to hear this after all. Michael earned your attention back though, when he took a step forward into your orbit.

“She got pregnant,” he admitted.

Your mouth fell open as your breath left your lungs. Your hands went to your temples in disbelief, and you made a sound of pure shock and distress.

“But she lost the baby early on,” he said. “She was devastated. I was too, but…I tried to help her through it. And it became this, this thing that wouldn’t let go of me. She wouldn’t let me go.”

You shook your head as furious tears welled up in your eyes. This was just too ridiculous and upsetting to compute. You didn’t even recognize the man that was standing in front of you anymore.

How could he blame Kate for what they’d done to you, and for clinging to him after losing her baby? How could he keep that from you, even when he asked you to marry him?

And how could he tell you all of this now and expect you to forgive him?

You didn’t have the words, but you held out a hand against him when he tried to take another step toward you.

“I know I fucked up. I fucked everything up. But you don’t have to come all the way here to run away,” he said. “Your parents miss you. Our friends…they all love you. And most of them rightly don’t want anything to do with me.”

He looked down then, with shame coloring his features. 

Through your tears and the struggle of collecting yourself, you studied him closely with your arms crossed.

You’d known Michael for several years. Even considering the months you two had been apart, you knew he was the same—stubborn and hot-headed and full of audacity as ever. But…he also seemed genuinely remorseful. And desperate.

“If you give me one more chance, I promise I won’t mess it up again. I’ll be the man you deserve,” he said, taking your hand and uncrossing your arms in the process. “Believe it or not, I took a week off without pay, just to be here and get a chance to say this to you: I love you. I love you. And I know now that it’s meant to be you.”

You hesitated, and even made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. They were a crisp dark blue, and yet, not the warm green you’d come to crave. You shook your head.  

“I get it, Michael. I really do…but I can’t do this anymore,” you said. “It’s too damn much.”

You began to slip your hand out of his, but he held you a fraction tighter. He frowned. 

“Are you seeing someone? Is it that guy from the other night? That cop?” Michael asked. 

“Stop it,” you warned in anger. Beau was part of the reason your heart held pain, but it wasn’t the main reason you wanted to be done with Michael Hadley.

You tried to twist your wrist out of his grip. He wouldn’t let you, instead, trying to bring you closer. 

“That’s not an answer,” he said in frustration. “Please, we can start over—”

“Let go!” you demanded. You yanked your hand out of his, and the rest came on instinct. 

Your slap was loud against his cheek, and it made your hand sting too. You also pushed him hard in the chest. Michael was forced to step back while holding his reddening face. He looked back at you in disbelief. 

You were breathing hard, shocked even at yourself. You’d never done that before in your life, but then again, never had you felt the panic of a man holding you against your will. 

Michael’s brows furrowed. He called to you in a pleading tone, and he reached for your arm to placate you.

You quickly stepped back again on reflex. Your heel tripped on the tile floor and you gasped as you felt yourself careening back…onto the glass coffee table behind you.

After putting his investigation of Avery to bed for the night, Beau felt drained on all counts.

He punctuated the end of his day by calling to check up on Frank Davis, the local firehouse chief, and the father of one of the firefighters who was killed a few months back. Brett, one of the other victims, had carried the guilt of his best friend’s death to his grave. 

Inevitably, that case brought up old memories for Beau. It also reminded him of you, and the situation with your firefighter ex-boyfriend. ‘Scuse me, ex-fiancé.

He also felt bad about how things ended with you in his office. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you. 

As his daughter reminded him the other night, if he’d just been a bit more “open” and honest, maybe he could’ve saved his marriage.

Now with Michael likely trailing you, he didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t come to him, or even call him for that matter.

He seemed to be a bit of a hothead too, Beau thought. While he climbed into his truck and peeled out of the station, he debated stopping by to see you. Carla and Emily wouldn’t be getting over to his place for a couple of hours. That did give him some time. 

And when it came down to it, was he a man, or was he a coward?

He knew it wouldn’t sit right with him if he didn’t try to make this right, in whatever small way.

So with that decision made in his mind, he drove over to your apartment complex. When he parked in one of the guest spots, he noticed another one occupied by a rental car, a gray sedan.

A small tingling of unease buzzed in the back of his mind. Beau approached your building, went inside, and started up the stairs. When he began to hear raised voices, a man and a woman who sounded too much like you, that gut feeling became a red hot alarm making his chest tighten.

He took the stairs nearly two at a time to get up to the second floor, where he saw that the door to your apartment unit was cracked open. He could hear glass shattering from inside.

He sprinted down the hall, and with a hand on his gun at his belt, he swung the door open.

The first thing he saw was Michael’s tall frame standing over you, frozen in shock. You were lying on your side amidst a shattered coffee table, fallen through the wooden frame. There was glass everywhere and underneath you, with magazines and pictures and other knickknacks strewn across the floor.

“What the hell’s going on here?!” Beau barked out.

Michael had turned at the sound of the door banging open. He met the sheriff with wide eyes. Beau’s expression set with a grim, angry frown. Though he willed himself to hold his temper in check, he immediately stepped forward and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, pushing him back and creating space between him and you.

“Step back,” the sheriff snapped.

“Beau,” you uttered in disbelief. You had tears in your eyes at the sight of him.

“Hey, darlin’,” said Beau. His voice was still rough, but more gentle for you. He knelt down at your side and carefully wrapped an arm around your waist to help lift you off the glass.

“You okay?” he asked you.

“Y-Yeah.” Though you raised one of your hands from the ground and blanched at the sight of a sizable piece of glass embedded in your palm. Beau’s lips flattened into a line.

He paused for a moment, turning his head back towards Michael.

“Stay exactly where you are,” he ordered, in a tone that boded no argument.

And Michael offered none. He stood there with furrowed brows. He even looked on at you in worry and frustration, knowing he couldn’t help you. He could only watch the sheriff make slow movements to help you out of the glass.

“Okay, slow for me,” Beau said. He spoke to you in low, calming tones whenever you made a sound of pain. He hooked an arm under your knees and lifted you out of the coffee table’s remains.

“Easy, I gotcha,” he murmured, helping you sit on the couch. You folded your legs off to the side, so you weren’t continuing to step in the glass on bare feet. Besides your right palm, your arm and right thigh had a few bleeding cuts of various degrees.  

After making a short glance at a still concerned Michael, Beau turned to you.

“Did he push you?” he asked.

“No, I didn’t fucking push her!” Michael said. 

“He didn’t,” you confirmed. “But he did shove his way into my apartment.”

Beau’s jaw tightened. He looked back at Michael, and his gaze demanded an answer. 

“I just—I just wanted to talk! Obviously I didn’t mean for this. Goddamn it,” Michael said, wiping a frustrated hand over his face. “Are you okay?”

You sighed. Beau set a hand on your shoulder. 

“Do you want to press charges for trespassing?” Beau asked you.

“Oh, come on!” Michael exclaimed. Beau pointed at him with a hard stare.

“You pipe the hell down,” he said tersely. “And don’t you move a damn inch. Because if you do, so help me, it’ll just about make my day.”

He flashed the other man a look at the handcuffs (and the gun) on his belt.

Beau then returned his attention to you. You were attempting to pick the glass out of your hand. He stilled your movements with a gentle hand on your wrist. 

“Hey, hey, wait on that for me, okay?” he asked. You looked up at him tiredly. 

“It’s okay. Just let him go,” you said. You shifted your gaze to Michael. “Go back to Chicago, for real this time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Michael’s face became disheartened, but his eyes fell to your injured hand. Blood was streaming all the way down your forearm and dripping on the tile floor, along with the other smears of blood amongst glass. 

He knew what he’d done. It made him even more sick with himself.

He turned to leave.

You watched him go, and you could no longer hold in your quiet tears. It wasn’t for him leaving. You just couldn’t believe it had all come to this. 

Beau lightly squeezed your shoulder. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back, okay?” he said. “Do me a favor and don’t move.”

“Okay,” you said, in an uncharacteristically small voice.

Beau tried to give you a reassuring smile. He gave into the desire to sweep a stray lock of hair away from your eyes, allowing him to brush your cheek with his fingers. You gave him a small smile back, despite your watery eyes.

Beau nodded and got up from the couch. He made swift strides out of the apartment, making sure to close the door behind him. He then hastened down the hall and the stairs to catch up with Michael in the parking lot. Beau was hot on his trail to the rental car.

“Hey!” he called out.

Michael paused in his gait. He turned to face the sheriff, sporting a look of frustration.

“What?” he shot back.

“You better take her warning for the gift it is,” Beau said. He closed the distance between him and Michael, but resisted the urge to grab the other man and hurl him against the car.

“It’s time for you to go home,” Beau said. “I don’t want to see you in town. I don’t want to hear that you’re following her around or blowing up her phone. Do you hear me?”

Michael stood straighter, his jaw working in anger.

“Are you threatening me, Sheriff?” he asked.

“No. I’m thinking you’ll be smart enough to take some friendly advice,” Beau said, but his eyes were sharp. “If I have to threaten you, then we really will have a problem.”

Michael was younger, leaner, probably faster, but Beau edged him out by a couple of inches, on both height and build.

“Just let her get on with her life,” said Beau.

Fortunately, the standoff didn’t last long.

Michael’s anger soon relented, letting the guilt and shame shine through.

“Make sure she’s okay,” he said. “Tell her…that I’m sorry.”

Then he turned and walked away. Beau watched him get into his car and leave the premises.

It wasn’t until the rumble of the engine faded away that Beau released the clenched fists at his sides. He pivoted slowly on his heel and made his way back up to your apartment.

And your door was locked.

On one hand, he understood your fears. On the other hand, he’d asked you not to move from the couch.

“Who is it?” you asked, after he knocked.

“It’s just me, don’t worry,” Beau answered. You opened the door with your good hand and let him in, while holding up your bloody one with a bunch of crumpled gauze and medical tape hanging down your arm. It looked like you got the glass shard out, but you were struggling on the “wrapping it up” part.

“Oh, sweetheart, I asked you to wait for me,” he said. His brows furrowed as he took your wrist and elbow to steady you.

“Yeah, well, I got impatient,” you replied, but your attempt at a smile lightened him too. 

Beau followed you to the kitchen sink and grasped your hand carefully. You’d already cleaned and sterilized the wound, so all he had to do was wrap it for you with some gauze and medical tape. 

“This is kind of deep. You might wanna go to the ER,” he said. “I could take you.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s really not that deep,” you replied.

“You sure?” Beau asked, frowning at you. “How you doin’? You okay?”

Your face had been tight with pain while he tried to get the wrapping right with deft hands. At his questioning, you softened with a wry smile. 

“I’m fine, more or less,” you said. “But…how…why were you here to begin with? How’d you know I was in trouble?”

Beau met your gaze for a moment. He was able to delay answering your question until he finished wrapping your hand. Afterwards, he sighed.

“I came to apologize,” he admitted. “But first, can I help you clean up around here? You just sit and relax. I’ll sweep up all this glass and mop the floor.”

You let out a long breath, your shoulders sinking. “Oh, Beau, don’t. You don’t have to do all that.”

“But see, I actually want to,” he said, giving you one of those grins you’ve come to know and expect. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“Okay.”

A thorough sweep, vacuum, and mopping, then a couple of cracked open beers and an order of Chinese later (plus cleaning and patching up the rest of your cuts), Beau sat next to you at the dining table and officially made his apology.

“I’m sorry for how things turned out today at the precinct,” he said.

You shook your head. You’d had some time to think about all of that, and there were things you could’ve handled better too.

“Beau, look. I get it,” you said. “You’re dealing with a lot at work, with Carla and Emily too, and…really, we haven’t known each other all that long. It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to open up on something that clearly still hurts you. Especially in the middle of your office.”

Beau let out a breath through his nose. He smiled and laid a gentle hand over your uninjured one, earning your widened gaze.

“You’re a sweetheart for that, but the truth is, you had a point today,” he said. “I’m a difficult man to know. It’s a flaw of mine that my ex-wife has pointed out several times. And even my daughter. Sometimes she looks at me like she can’t understand me.”

You bit the inside of your lip. You debated asking the question you wanted to ask. With his hand over yours, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand, you were able to gather your courage.

“Does it have something to do with the reason you were in grief counseling?” you asked. “About your partner on the job?”

Beau nodded, his smile fading. “Yeah, it does. It has a lot to do with Randy.”

He took a moment, but you gave him the time he needed to find his words. Eventually he began to explain to you what happened in Houston.

How he’d been an upper-level officer dealing with a narcotics case. His partner, Randy Santos, had volunteered to infiltrate a drug cartel undercover. He stayed in the field for a few months longer than protocol, but he was so close, he’d claimed. One bust, and they could arrest the kingpin. The entire cartel would crumble.

Beau had backed him up with the Chief, against his better judgment. When the time came that Randy had helped arrange a drug deal, Beau was the one leading the squad on the bust.

“It went south so fast,” he said.

And he paused in his story for a moment. His eyes were far away, lost in memories.

You squeezed his hand over yours to bring him back. He met your gaze.

“When it got down to it, I had two choices,” he said. “Take out the boss, or take out the guy right in front of me, Dante. Now, Dante had his back turned. He couldn’t see me. Would’ve been fish in a barrel…but I went for the head of the snake. I shot the kingpin. I didn’t realize that Dante had already burned Randy. Knew he was a cop.”

Beau met your gaze then. “Dante shot Randy in the head, point blank.”

Your mouth fell open in disheartened shock. Beau took a long sip of his beer, wishing it was whiskey.

“I saw it all…in slow motion. Just like the movies,” he said. “I see it almost every night, without fail.”

You shook your head helplessly. “Beau. It’s not—”

“Not my fault?” Beau gave you a sad smile. “Oh, but it was. Nothing else to it. Bad leadership. bad police work. Bad friend.”

He continued to drink his beer.

“And I checked out,” he said. “My wife and daughter paid the price of my absence. Picking myself off the bottom of whatever crusty bar would have me that night. Refusing to go to counseling. Generally making an ass of myself.”

You covered his hand with your bandaged one. It got him to look at you and forget his beer for a moment.

“It was a hard call,” you said. “Anyone could’ve made the same one you did.”

“Yeah. And it got my best friend killed,” Beau said. “His wife, his ten-year-old boy, his parents. They’ll never be the same because I messed up. I can’t abide that.” 

He sucked in an unsteady breath. “It still…sometimes I wake out of a dead sleep, and I see his face. I see the body they brought back.”

His eyes were red and shining. The emotion in his voice choked you up as well, making your eyes sting. 

You raised a hand to touch his cheek, your thumb drifting tenderly across his chin. 

“You’re not a difficult man to know,” you said. A tear found its way down your cheek, and then another. You didn’t bother to wipe them away. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about you, it’s that you care. About your team, your family, everyone…even messy, accident-prone women.”

You gave him a smile at the last bit. He was able to give you one back, through his own unsteady breath.

“Especially those,” he agreed. Your hand moved down to his shoulder. 

“And you also like to eat. A lot,” you quipped. “I think you’ve got about three stomachs.”

“Probably four, realistically,” he said with a tearful laugh. He wiped at his face with both hands. You waited for him to meet your gaze again before you continued.  

“You’re also an old-fashioned cowboy,” you said, with a brighter smile. Your hand slid down, this time to his chest, over his heart. “But you’re a good man, Beau. That, I knew from the very beginning.”

Beau clasped your hand where it lay on his chest, almost on reflex. He was sure you could feel his heart tripping up, double timing. He reached out for your cheek, guiding your face up to his. He leaned over slowly, giving you time to say no, whether with words or with actions.

But your eyes, though still a bit shiny from tears, were nothing but beautifully welcoming. So he took a shot. He began to cross the distance between your lips and his.

And his phone buzzed on the table, making both of you jolt. 

It was just a text message. Frowning, Beau looked over and read the preview. When he saw Emily’s name, he cursed under his breath. He reached for his phone and opened up the message.

Hey, where are you?

“Shit,” he said. “Emily’s been staying with me all week and Carla’s joining us tonight, to be safe. They’re there already, asking where I am.”

You would be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed beyond measure, but you nodded.

“Then you should go,” you said.

You squeezed his hand before you released him. Beau wasn’t happy about it either, but he did the same. He helped you clean up the dining table and gathered up his wallet and keys. You walked him over to the front door, where Beau debated how he should leave this.

The door was open, literally and figuratively as you leaned against its frame. You couldn’t hide your unease. You didn’t know where this left the two of you either.

Beau sighed and propped a curled finger under your chin, earning your gaze.

“I need to settle some things. After…” he trailed. You nodded at what he was trying to say.

“When Carla and Emily have stability again, we can talk,” you finished for him. “I’ll be here.” 

He looked at you in wonder. 

“You’ll really wait for that?” he asked. His brows creased, and he truly marveled at your patience with him. “You know you don’t have to.”

A smile curved your lips. “Something tells me you’re worth waiting for, Sheriff Arlen.”

Beau grinned at you fondly. He cupped the side of your face and pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Well, thank God for that,” he said. “Really, thank you…”

Lord help him, but he couldn’t help himself. He finally crossed the distance and kissed you.

Your chest rose with your breath, but when your eyes fell shut, you couldn’t help but melt against him. You gripped the front of his buttoned-down shirt for stability while his fingers tangled in your hair. It all grew with heat when he tilted his head, tasting you deeper with each new kiss.

He pressed you into the doorframe, trapping your body with his. You held onto him like a lifeline.

While his hands drifted down your back and rested on your hips, bunching the material of your pretty yellow sundress, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling him flush against you. He felt your every curve, soft breasts and thighs and sweet sighs.

He released a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat. His lips veered away from yours to burn a slow trail down to your neck. He was satisfied by the way you moaned and struggled to catch your breath at his ministrations.

Your fingers wound up sweeping through his hair. It both soothed and aroused him, somehow. But Beau knew if he didn’t stop here, he wouldn’t be able to again.

He laid one last kiss under your ear that hinted with teeth, making you shudder. He pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours. You two breathed together for a moment, just existing here, hearts racing.

“I gotta go,” he said. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You nodded, biting your lip. He pulled back further and thumbed at your lower lip. 

“Don’t do that, or I just might have to go back on my word,” he said, giving you a smirk.

You smiled in amusement. “Promise?”

Beau chuckled. He stole one more heated kiss before he withdrew from you, his hand lingering on your cheek. Heaving a sigh, you turned him around by his broad shoulders and reluctantly sent him on his way. 

Halfway down the hall, he slowed to look back at you. Seeing you leaning against your door, still catching your breath, all hot and bothered…it nearly broke his resolve.

“Nope,” he muttered.

He shook his head and forced himself to keep walking until he hit the stairwell for the umpteenth time today. 

He would stop three more times on the way to his car before he actually left your building.

AN: 😘 So, how'd you like the official "end" of Michael Hadley? And finally, finally, we get to a first kiss. In Part 7, we enter some even deeper waters...

Next Time:

“I’m actually glad you’re here,” she said. “I’ve kinda got a question for you.”

“Kinda?” you echoed with a smile, but you pat her on the knee. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

Emily looked a little unsure. It had you giving her your undivided attention.

“It’s about my dad,” she began. Your smile slowly fell, but now you were really listening.

“Okay,” you nodded.

Emily opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, the lights in the entire office went out.

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Series Masterlist

Big Sky Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @globetrotter28 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @ades106

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @emily-winchester @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @deans-baby-momma @tabsluvsu @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons

@antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @deans-daydream @deans-spinster-witch @agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @iprobablyshipit91 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @lostin-jensenseyes @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @deanfreakingwinchester @chernayawidow

[or-something-better]

Pamela’s Audition

May 10, 2022

Charlie

(I’ll send in the first point so you can read it :) it’s fairly simple

1. Sam and Charlie have been trying to get to the bottom of a case they’d been working on. Sam is getting frustrated because he can’t find anything in the lore. Charlie asks if he might have any contacts that could help, since the lore was getting them nowhere. Sam thinks for a minute and says he knows a psychic, and she had always been pretty reliable. Charlie asks if they should go see her and Sam grabs his car keys.

Pamela

Good morning

Sam

I'm ready and excited to snap this one up

Gabe

We let you out of witness protection for this lol no worries Dean isn’t around

Sam

Dean-free space😃

Pamela

Awesome

Gabe

Admin safe space

Charlie

Let me know when you’re ready and we can start

Pamela

Ready

Gabe

I’ll stop 😂

…………………………………………..

Charlie

scrolling through a page on my laptop, nothing is coming up so I sigh heavily and click on to the next page

Sam

I slam the book I’m looking through closed and toss it onto a pile of like books on the table in front of me. Rubbing my eyes in frustration, I look over at Charlie shaking my head. I’ve been over all of these at least 3 times now and there’s just nothing here…

Charlie

I jump at the outburst well then Mr Winchester, got any contacts that may be of use??

Sam

Contacts? I think about those that immediately come to mind, like Garth and Bobby, quickly dismissing them both as having access to all the same information that I’ve already searched. Then my mind lands on someone who’s unconventional gifts might just be able to help us out. You know what, Charlie. I think that I might… I sort of know this psychic, Pamala Barns, according to Bobby she’s the best damn psychic in the state. If she can contact someone on the other side about what’s going on, we might just get what we need.

Charlie

raising my eyebrows  I never thought palm readers were your style… but ok Sam. Let’s go

Sam

I grab the Charger keys and we head out. Pulling into the yard in front of Pamala’s cozy little cabin, I turn off the car and point it out. Well, this is it, you know I guess maybe we should have called first. shrugs But I didn’t think about that until just now… so, let’s go see what she says. Just hopes she doesn’t throw me off the property.

Pamela

looks out the window. Mmm tight buns is here

Charlie

Well… now or never. Let’s go knock

Sam

we need #2

Charlie

(Left room for you to greet and meet us how you like)

Sam

Sorry I jumped it with my "we're there" post

…………………………………..

2. Sam and Charlie pull up to a cozy looking little cabin, and Sam says they are here. Getting out of the car they knock on the door, Pamela answers. After questioning why, they were here, and remarking about how whenever she helps a Winchester something bad happens. Charlie pleads with her, and she relents, inviting them inside.

…………………………………….

Charlie

(Very little sleep I grabbed the wrong one lol)

Sam

((sorry sorry, I'll behave from now on promise))

Charlie

(I’ll give Becky a whip)

Sam

😂

Sam

I knock on the door

Pamela

Hello Sam. And who’s your friend? hugging Sam and pats his ass Hi hun I'm Pam. What can I do for you guys? thinking I really don't want to help what trouble are we getting into now?

Sam

Hi Pamala Accepts the hug and hand grab with mild embarrassment I wasn't sure you'd remember me... This is Charlie… a little sheepish about asking, but no way around it since we’ve already driven all the way here. Look, we were hoping that maybe you’d be willing to help us out with something?

Pamela

making a joke oh boy. What am I gonna lose now? Let's see what ya got for me.

Totally skipped Charlie… Charlie.. sorry

Sam

((That happens, I get so excited with the story that I just wanna keep going))

Charlie

sigh I know better than anyone how the Winchesters bring trouble, but if you would be so kind as to help us just this once…. I promise in one way or another we will make it up to you. Right Sammy?

Sam

Ri...right, absolutely

Pamela

Alright. showing them to my séance room have a seat. Show me what you got.

…………………………………

3. Sam shares a bit about the demon they had been tracking and lost sight of. Pam is wary as channeling demons could be dangerous. Charlie shows Pam the exorcism page of her notebook, telling her she is all prepared if something goes wrong. Pam leads the two to the table where she begins a séance to see if she can channel someone with information.

Sam

The house looks exactly like I remembered it, over-packed with things and the round séance table in the center of the room. So... we’ve been tracking this demon that’s gone outside the norm for Crossroads deals lately. Even for demons he’s bad news, taking younger and younger victims each time. We’ve been through the lore and were just hoping you could get us a name, or maybe which more powerful demon, holds his chain.

Pamela

grabs Sam’s hand hold hands everyone. starts the séance

Pamela

On a clean altar cloth place a small bowl filled with fresh herbs. Around the perimeter of the cloth, place black and white candles alternating and equal in number. When all of the candles are lit, recite the following:

             Amate spiritus obscure te quaerimus.

            Te oramus, nobiscum colloquere apud nos circita.

At the finish of the incantation, pinch a tiny amount of frankincense over one of the candle flames.

Charlie

(Ok miss I have no imagination! Great job 😂)

Pamela

Google babes! Lmao

Charlie

(That’s what we all do)

Pamela

Trying to be I. Character. I LOVE Pam. I wanna do well. Lol

Sam

((has a committed relationship with my google mini)

……………………………………..

4. They join hands and Pam starts asking for someone with information to come forward. The lights start to flicker and Charlie jumps. Pam tells her to stay still or it wouldn’t work. Charlie settles back down as Pam continues talking to the spirits when one comes forth and says the name “Belphegor”, the table begins to shake and Pam passes out. Sam jumps up to assist her and finds her only sleeping. Sam Carrie’s her to bed and locks the door as he and Charlie leave

Sam

Lights inside the room begin to flicker.

Charlie

(You are!!!)

Charlie

I jump and almost let go of Pam’s hand

Pamela

Stay sitting hun. Nothing to worry about. Hold on I’m getting something. table starts shaking Belthagor. who is that as I thought. And fell back out of my chair. Passed out

Sam

Pamala! Jumping up from the table, I run to her and quickly check her out. Very relieved to see that she’s only sleeping. She’s okay, Charlie Happy that this time nothing terrible happened to Pamala from helping us, I gently pick her up and carry her into the only bedroom of the house and lay her out on her bed.

Gabe

Pamela?

Pamela

Yes...

Charlie

(Everyone speaks to you with hesitation…. I don’t get it )

Gabe

After a long deliberation we’ve decided you’re right . Your lack of imagination is appealing and we just don’t think your personality is going to work out here. (I’m an ass 😂)

Charlie

You really are 😂

Gabe

We appreciate your middling attempt, but we just don’t think it’s going to work out . Maybe making tshirts is something you should stick to.

Sam

IS SOOOO an ass

Gabe Not really, Welcome to the Family