#I am in fact the lowest bar to clear

[universalvibes]

Today was absolute buttholes but I'm high af right now and have sheetz. Nothing else matters. I'm peaking.

[socially-awkward-skeleton]

Tagged by @thesingularityseries <3 thank you!!

Slapping a big warning on this and only tagging the NSFW list folks this week. I am sharing some of chapter 13 of Evening of Score which is basically Rory and Price dealing with the major argument of their relationship after he makes her torture someone using their wife and kid, which is a big goddamn issue with Rory. Warnings for: m!receiving handjob, dirty talk, emotional manipulation (but also Rory is used to this shit from Price, so she sees it pretty blatantly and is not fooled), piv sex, unprotected sex, honestly this is the ship at their most toxic but lessons are learned

*also this is such a long snippet, I AM SO SORRY, this chapter is like 5k words that keeps bouncing between them fighting and fucking*

“You gonna talk t’me again, love?” He asked in a low rumble, his own frustration setting in as he crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight between his feet. It wasn’t like her to bring her work home with her, but this instance had stuck. There was a shift in the paradigm. It twisted at her, digging into her whole belief system and choking the life from it like brambles. Her father’s words echoing in her head: a poor influence. He wasn’t wrong. She had forgone everything her mother and father had instilled in her – protecting others, helping them at their lowest. It was unforgivable. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the loss of what she was becoming. 

Scouring at her scalp with her fingers, she built up a frothy foam of bubbles in her hair – the lightest thing that existed on her shoulders at the moment. Working her jaw as she relented and finally spoke, “Eventually.”

The tension in her voice was palpable, the anger a very real force that lifted its ugly head as much as she tried to bury it. Her usual go-to of slapping on a smile and pretending as though she didn’t have a care in the world wasn’t holding, the exterior long since shattered as much as her will was as she came to terms with what she had been capable of. “This is ‘cause of the interrogation, isn’t it?” John’s voice remained firm, unapologetic in his requirements for the mission. Rory sighed, dipping her head back under the water, letting it cascade over her, washing her sins away and restoring her resolve as the soap circled the drain. Opening the glass door, steam poured out in a cloud around her, turning the air around them hot and oppressive as she stared him down with a glare that brooked no argument. “It’s not the interrogation – I've done a million of those. It’s the fact that I was made to cross a very real line I have set for myself. One – my darling,” the term of endearment having lost its sentimentality as she spat it out, “You are very well aware of. I don’t hurt children –”

“You didn’t,” Price interrupted, giving her a little shrug of his shoulders. “Didn’t harm him or the wife.”

“Christ, are you listening to yourself, John?” Rory snarled. “Didn’t harm him?” She snatched the towel from the bar beside the shower and wrapped it around herself quickly. “He’s going to be bloody traumatized having been kidnapped and forced to witness his life, and the ones of those he loves, being threatened.” Wiping her arm across the bathroom mirror, clearing it of the film of mist, glancing at him through it, their eyes met in a battle of wills through a plane of glass. “We may as well have signed him up to join AQ ourselves – certainly gave the poor little bastard enough of a reason to do so.” Rory sighed, shaking her head as she gripped the edge of the sink counter. “We are going to be the enemy to him for the rest of his life after what we did. A very real monster under the bed… and maybe he’s fucking right.” She glanced over her shoulder, her furrowed brow held tight along with the purse of her lips in an angry pout, staring at the man she loved, not quite sure what sort of answer she expected from him at that moment. 

Rubbing at the back of his neck, his steely gaze locked on hers, trapped in a tug of war between the two sides of himself. One, The Captain, who did whatever it took, whether savory in his actions or not. A mindset trained into him to put the mission first, no matter the cost. The other, John Price, the man who loved the woman stood before him, who tried to be a better man for her.

“You know that’s what it takes, Ror. This fight is never gonna be pretty, it’s never gonna be clean. Blood on our hands, it’s what we do – I know you know that. It’s nothing new to either of us.” The muscle in his jaw clenched, a reminder of the hidden savagery he wore buried beneath his rugged features. “You’re angrier with yourself than you are with me. Don’t try and deny it. Worried about pissin’ off your father, betrayin’ some vision he has o’you. – and maybe you are, but he can sod off.” Before she could argue, Price stepped forward, collecting her chin and holding her steady in his grasp, the calloused pad of his thumb drifting tenderly over her plump lower lip, freezing her like a deer in the headlights. “Might make us monsters,” he whispered in a husk, “But we do the bad things so that the rest of the world only deals in the good. And, speaking for myself at least,” his voice hoarse with the admiration he held for her, head tipping to the side as he offered her a sly smirk, “Feel a little less like one when I’ve got you with me.” Her eyes closed, sighing heavily, as he pressed his forehead to hers, tipping her chin upwards to meet him in a searing kiss, apologies in each press of his lips against hers without ever uttering the actual words. Far too stubborn a man to concede openly – with John, actions always spoke louder than words. 

Pulling back, the fire still burned in his blue eyes, the torrid desire turning a sensual kiss into something more primal. His hand gently stroked her jaw down to her throat as if she were made of porcelain – despite the danger he willingly let her be thrown into – with him, there always seemed to be that fear he might break her, that he was forced to be gentle. 

“I might ask you to cross some lines, but you know I'd never make you do something that’d harm you, darlin’.” His voice kept low, an insidious purr, as his mouth traveled down the smooth column of her neck, his whiskers rasping against her flesh still slick from her shower. “You know I’ll always take care of you, my girl,” he murmured against her pulse. Rory’s hands curled around the counter of the sink, her knuckles shifting from red to white as she leaned her weight against it. The backs of her thighs pressed against the cool edge, her head rolling back granting him full access to her throat with a quiet moan. 

She hated this, the anger that still welled inside her, the way he denied her side of things. One of his worst flaws was his belief that he was always right, despite the evidence before him. She hated that he could make her feel so goddamn docile sometimes, so obedient. His good girl.

Price’s firm hand on her hip held her in place with an unyielding grip. Fingers kneading at soft, smooth flesh under the towel, dug in to leave a claiming bruise upon her. His body – heavy, dominating – was an iron embrace that never let go. 

“Christ, John,” she mewled, her arm coiling around the back of his neck, fingers splayed through short, cropped brown hair as his teeth scraped gently along her skin. A shiver coursed down her spine, the humid warmth of the bathroom doing little to prevent the goosebumps that scattered her body in the wake of his touch. 

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within him, vibrating against her. The surge of lust was undeniable, a force that pulled them together like two magnets. Gently grasping her wrist, he moved Rory’s hand away from his hair and guided it towards his stiff member, throbbing with want, strained against the material of his pants. "You and me, Rory," he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire as she cupped him over the material, her fingertips gently caressing the outline of his bulge. "Trust in me, that’s all you’ve ever had to do." “You know I trust you, that’s the bloody problem,” she snarked while unbuttoning his pants, zipping down the fly with a fervor that was a testament to the devotion she held for him, one that had never faded after two years together and the crucible of bullshit they had faced throughout their careers. The anger still simmering inside her, just below the surface fueling the lust in equal measure as she tore his pants down his thighs. 

Cock springing free, he was eager to have her. Taking a deep, ragged breath, he pulled back slightly. "Look at me," he commanded softly, insistently. His darkened gaze daring her to deny him anything. “You can be angry with me all you like. Won’t change a damn thing, and you know that. This is our job, Rory.”

Hazel depths burned like the embers at the end of one of her cigarettes, holding within them a mix of rage and ardor as she glared at him. Swallowing thickly, her back to a wall, knowing full well this was what the man she was in love with was capable of, and always had been. Dangerous – confidently so – wielding power and secrets without a hint of a question in his purpose and with no remorse.

"Come here,” his command dripped with authority and laced liberally with carnal desire. Claiming her mouth once again, he took what belonged to him. His hand slid through her damp hair, carding his fingers. Grasping her chin, tender in his touch, he intensified the kiss. Their bodies pressed against each other, a declaration of their unbridled hunger.

Heart pounding in her chest, each rhythm matched the pulse between her fingers as they encircled the thick of him. The gentle friction of her soft palm against his hardness, the warmth of her hand enveloping him as he thrusted slowly, deliberately into her grip, bucking his hips with the same control over his body he showed on the battlefield. 

His breathing became rough as she tightened her hold, eliciting a low groan from deep within him. "That's it, love," he rasped, panting as his forehead pressed against her own, watching her hand pump against him in a fist. Gaze rolling up to fix on hers, whimpering with need, he searched for the reassurance he craved from her, to know that she was his entirely.

Eyes darkening with her own arousal, they reflected equal intensity in the black depths of her blown out pupils. Chest and cheeks left flushed, the same rosy shade as her pebbled nipples.

Thrusting harder, he reached up to cup her face. The calloused pads of his fingers brushed against her cheekbones and traced the curve of her jawline, his thumb stroking the edge of her lower lip, watching as her mouth opened slightly in response to his touch.

"Kiss me, Rory," he demanded gruffly, his voice husky with desire. 

Both needed the connection more than oxygen, breath hitching as their lips finally met and their spark so easily ignited. The kiss – deep, mirroring the carnal heat that radiated between them like white phosphorus, impossible to be extinguished. 

His hips continued to move, driving into her hand with a hunger that threatened to consume him, a hunger that was never truly sated when it came to her no matter how many times they laid together. Breaking the kiss moments later, his breath came in ragged gasps. "I need you," his voice a rough whisper. "Now."

Quick to grab the underside of her thighs, scooping her up into his arms, he lifted her onto the countertop, the cold sting of marble biting at her once more. Slotting himself between her thighs, his own muscular ones kept her spread wide open for him and with a quick move of his hand, her towel fell away and Rory was bared to him in all her glory. 

Large hands roamed over her supple skin scented with the subtle perfume of her vanilla body wash and he nuzzled in against her neck and wet locks of hair, luxuriating as he breathed her in, unable to get enough. "Mmm...you smell like heaven, my girl," he murmured, his words barely audible above the thrumming of their hearts. 

Price’s touch grazed over the sides of her waist, exploring the curves he had mapped out in his memory, moving to cup her pert breasts in his grip. He stood before her, savage jubilation in his eyes, making it staggeringly clear he'd do anything to keep her close – in bed, in battle, in life. 

The possessive gleam in his eyes would make a lesser individual wilt, but not her, Rory was made of the same stuff. That lupine smirk of hers pulled at her full lips, the predatory stare blatant in her eyes as they flared up at him, the amber in her depths flickering alight. Evidence of need coated her inner thighs, her slick folds awaiting him to delve within.

He moved then, swift and certain, the force of desire propelling him forward as he dragged her towards the edge of the counter, hands roaming with the expectant touch of a man who knew exactly what he wanted. The dance between them was as familiar as breathing.

Long legs wrapped around him, jerking him towards her with a press of her heels. Wrangling him. The rare occasion where she controlled the Captain with the tug of the leash he’d given her reign over, the shepherding dog submissive to his lamb. Pushing the ruddy head of his cock that bullied at her entrance into her, slowly, stretching herself open on him, her moan filling the space between them as her face contorted with pleasure.

Gripping her hips tightly, he thrust into her with the force of a man possessed. Each movement was proof of the passion that burned between them, an almost unbearable calefaction. His knees thumped against the vanity doors, the sound punctuating each forceful plunge. 

"Is this what you want?" His voice low and gravelly, the hint of danger in his words sending shivers down her spine.

Breath hot on her neck, his lips grazed her skin, each trailing mark from his mouth a promise of what was to come. Her hands clawed at his back, urging him on, leaving raw, red lines against the tanned canvas of his skin. “I want you to stop trying to turn me into you,” she breathed, a soft, shuddered whisper in his ear as he continued to fill her. His hips stuttered, freezing, halfway in and out of her. John’s piercing blue-eyed gaze bored into her as his jaw clenched – a nerve had been struck. “I’m not,” he growled. 

Eyes locked, captive in one another’s stare, she didn’t back down. “Don’t ever make me cross that line again, John.” It wasn’t a plea or a request, it was an order, a demand. She rarely asked much of Price, but after giving an inch and him taking a mile, putting her foot down was the only resolution. “Listen to me.” Gripping the back of her head, cradling it in the palm of his hand, his fingers coiled into her hair. “I have only ever done things with your best interests at heart,” he rasped, eyes boring into hers, willing her to remember the promise he had made to her in the hotel years ago. “It's never my plan to hurt you, I only ever want to keep you safe.”

“John, you asked me to use a child as bait…” Rory's eyes were glassy as she stared up at him, teeth clenched in a snarl as her words fell from her trembling lips, the guilt festering inside her. “And I did it,” she whispered harshly, “For you.”

His eyes fell for just a moment, an ounce of vulnerability shown by the man who normally remained steadfast and firm in his resolve. Price gave a heavy sigh before meeting her gaze once more. “In havin’ to deal with the Butcher, to find Hadir, I was forced to make a decision, love. But a decision – a hard decision – had to be made. Something I'm far too familiar with, eh?” He tried to force a little smirk, but it failed to reach his eyes, his fingers digging into the tender flesh at her nape as he clung to her, afraid to let her go.

“I'd never intend to put you in a position like that, not if I didn’t already know you were capable of it,” he said with a quick shake of his head, his brow furrowing, deepening the lines of his forehead. “I don't want to break you, darlin’. I know your limits, every one of ‘em, and I’d never push you any further than what I know you’re able to. It’s my job to know that, Ror. You're my best asset. My everything.” He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, his stare pleading for a forgiveness he didn't often seek. “You know that, my girl.”

NSFW taglist [opt in/out]:

@roofgeese @efingart @cloudofbutterflies92 @imogenkol @illmetbymoonlight

@inafieldofdaisies @raresvtm @evvie-a @clicheantagonist @rc-dragons

@la-grosse-patate @direwombat @statichvm @cassietrn @lady-eudaemonia

@thedeadthree @voidika @mutantthedark @strangefable @simplegenius042

@writeforfandoms @heroofshield

[fandom-trash-xl]

EPISODE 3: DAIMA (Yes, that's the actual episode title)

Jaka-Jaan's already stuck in my head, that's a sure sign of a banger. Anyway, onto episode 3!

This episode using the series recap intro from the first episode totally didn't scare me for a second. If this is going to become a regular thing like Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood's alchemy speech, we might be seeing Frieza a lot more this season (sure, the same shot but... yeah).

We're off to Demon Realm via the giant fish-like portal guardian, Warp-Sama, and Goku nearly blows the whole mission by being himself- I've noticed he's a little more childish. I don't think it's "Dragon Ball Super Brain Damage" bad but maybe because he's in a kid body again, he's taking the time to be a bit more silly and unfiltered.... unless the shrink also made them a little more immature.

The Warp-Samas apparently need an approved pin number to access and Shin can't use his mind link quick enough to tell Kibito- that'll be an uh oh later. And we're also hoping that Kibito will have the little ear illusion magic for Vegeta and Bulma or that'll be a second uh oh.

So, there's three Demon Worlds within the Demon Realm, basically in number hierarchy. Glorio's from the lowest, the third, but does some work in the first. "What kind of work?" (suspicious pause) "...This and that."

If he turns out to be an assassin or something, OH I am EXTRA buying his Funko Pop (or whatever easily accessible/affordable merch comes out first)! At the hotel, the fact that he had a gun seemed to be a tip off for the manager, so I wouldn't be surprised. I enjoy Glorio's vibes regardless.

We've got so many little worldbuild bits- the tunnel between worlds being closed off, gases from the volcanoes making the air heavy and hard to move fast in, the doom river that causes instant death... The fact that pretty much anything you could design as an OC or fan-creature here would fit in. And this is just the third world- as I typed that I realized how that sounds and oh this is going to be a Demon Realm class thing isn't it?

There's a statue left of Dabura that seems worse for wear- either because of just how long he was in power or the stone itself is sensing there's a new king in charge.

Apparently, Shin (and presumably the other Kais) is what's known as a Glind, so we've got new species classifications to work with! ...Are we retconning the magic life fruit origin thing or are we eventually going to come to that tree.

And we have to remember Toriyama's roots in gag manga by slipping in a fart joke

Of course, Goku's still hungry so they stop for some good old fashioned Demon Realm hamburgers- is it weird that after awhile they started looking really tasty actually?

"What meat is this?" "Don't ask." Oh. That definitely means it was a sapient at one point, doesn't it? Maybe that's what they do with all the rogue round-ears? There does seem to be some clear hostility, given they're very quick to start a bar fight- which Goku quickly steps into because you don't come between him and his hamburgers.

After a peaceful night's sleep, they wake up to find that the bar thugs stole Glorio's plane! (checks my GT notes because I'm sure I've seen this before)

Trying to predict what's coming next... From the previews, we might be getting lore on the Tagamis and I have a feeling that we might be meeting Panzy soon. Part of me's kind of hoping we get intermittent cut-ins to how it's going back on Earth.

Also, how I missed the expressive little commercial break in-between scenes! Love them!

EPISODES WITHOUT KNOWING HANVI'S WHEREABOUTS: 3

[ilikekidsshows]

Adrino nation is here for blessed crumbs (otp game) please !!

Rate Your OTP Game

Crème de la crème | Excellent Taste | A Worthy Sailing Vessal | A fine ship it is | The Finest Crack in the Den | Unorthodox yet not Unwelcome | It is a good | Overrated | It is acceptable | Forgive me but I am not familiar with the source material | I would not consider myself a fan | Just because you are contrarian doesnt make it good | What dump did you find this? | In the lowest pits of the Abyss is where your taste was forged.

It doesn't get much better than Adrino. These guys' are Miraculous' number one use of the Because I Knew You, I Have Been Changed for Good trope, which is my favorite pairing trope bar none. Their meeting is such a formative experience for them both, a great deal of their characterization in the series comes from what they learn from knowing each other.

Adrien learns, bit by bit, that he doesn't deserve to be treated badly by anybody, not even people who love him. He learns that he deserves to be a priority in the lives of the people who claim to care about him. He learns this through the fact that Nino always tries to prioritize Adrien, and he vocally protests Adrien being mistreated. Nino shows Adrien how he deserves to be treated.

In return, Adrien's immensely approachable manner breaks through the self-imposed isolation Nino had going on in 'Origins'. Adrien's yearning for human connections and companionship makes Nino find value in these things as well. He starts connecting with his other classmates, seeing them in a new, more positive light even after knowing some of them for so long (like his crush on Marinette in 'Animan'). Nino learns to fight, because someone has to fight for Adrien.

These two are compatible outside of their character arcs as well. They're both really heroic, they care care more about what happens to others than themselves. They're both incredibly nurturing, Nino is a really good big brother and Adrien has a clear way of connecting with kids both as Adrien and as Cat Noir. They're both passionate and emotional about things that matter to them.

[demokratieundfreiheit]

Keir Starmer needs to step down

I am now more concerned about Keir Starmer's Premiership than any Tory is about the future of their own party's leadership. Labour-aligned commentators have universally celebrated the implosion in the Conservative Party. Some believe it has extended Starmer's term by another 10 years. This mentality is defeatist at best and ruinous at worst.

I expected great things to come from a Labour government. Granted, the expectation was clearly unrealistic. Starmer ran a very centrist campaign, allowing Ed Davey to run to the left of him. He categorically rejected reintegration, let alone rejoining, the EU. He made no promises to revive HS2's northern stretch. He lost several seats in Muslim-majority constituencies due to weakness on Gaza. Against my better judgment, I hoped he would change tack after the election.

It, after all, made no sense to swing right. The Americanization of British politics is all too clear. The collapse of the red wall in 2019 gave the Tories a path to victory: just be racist. Any attempt to win the North is in itself a contradiction. Labour cannot be progressive and appeal to the "white working class" at the same time, and Starmer chose to win back the North by meekly abandoning the left. Note that this was a national environment that had undeniably swung towards Labour after a 5-year Tory disasterclass.

He underperformed even the worst estimates by every single pollster. Labour won a "landslide" with the lowest net votes of any majority party on record. They managed to leave enough doubt in the minds of traditional conservatives of their ability to lead by mimicking the Tory agenda, AND leave room on the left to be squeezed by the Lib Dems, the Independents and the Greens. It is patently clear that he got elected not because people liked him, rather only because they hated the other option more.

His favorability polling at this very moment reflects that fact. General polling still has Labour with a slight majority were an election to be held right now, but Starmer is very firmly in the dump. No significant changes have been made to anything. Granted, nothing disastrous has happened, but that is an incredibly low bar to set. Austerity remains. The Government still does not have any money. Diplomacy has only taken place in the form of handshakes and pleading to Joe Biden to get up and transfer some weapons that Ukraine cannot use every once in a while.

Labour must understand that this is the most left-wing national environment there has ever been in Britain. The race riots were shut down and shamed within the span of a week; even Nigel Farage dares not to associate himself with those lunatics. The supermajority in Parliament grants Starmer the ability to do whatever he wants. If he chooses then to sit idle and throw all chances to the wind, maybe it is for the best that he steps down for someone more daring to take charge.

[pan-fried-autism]

Lab Accident Chapter 4: Marching to the Hare

Characters: Swap!Leonid (@bowlerhatwearer), Swap!Jack, other people

Summary: Leonid finds his target.

Thursday, May 21.

Still don't know much about JacksnJackson.

Things I know and learned:

works at BUsiness finances Inc

28 year old

has wife?

apparently funny

Don't know the location of his residence.

With that, Leonid clicked his pen, putting the tip back into the chamber.

He lay back on his hotel room bed with a sigh.

He'd been trying for the past two days to find Jack, or at least his home... but he couldn't. He couldn't exactly ask his coworkers either-- to him, if he was here to visit Jack, wouldn't he already know? The man just never seemed to exist in the same area as him, too.

He sat up a bit, looking at his phone screen. The messages app was open.

'Hello, Detective. have you found my son yet? signed J Harris Sr.'

Leo couldn't help but giggle as he replied to Mr. Harris.

'No, I haven't yet. But I'm trying.'

Send.

Leonid went back to lying down, still unsure of what to do in the situation. Any thinking was interrupted, however, by a sound-- a rumbling from his stomach.

Leonid turned his head to the alarm clock by the bed.

5:09 pm.

Eh. Might as well get dinner.

Leonid sat up and picked his phone back up, going into Maps to search around New Anderville.

A few caught his eye-- The Coffery, Yappy Hour Bar and Grill, Minhs Din-Din, a downtown McDonalds, Pubbingtons, Greasy Joe's-- so he checked out their reviews.

Nothing too impressive, however... The Coffery only had fish and chips and liver and gravy as dinner options, Greasy Joe's was mainly for families with small kids, and the McDonalds had the 3rd lowest ratings of any McDonalds location worldwide.

That left Yappy Hour, Pubbingtons, and Minh's.

He decided to check out Yappy Hour a little more, seeing what they had on the menu... and something caught his eye.

'Boney Thursday today! From 5-8pm, all ribs and wings are half off! Try our delicious Mexican Grilled Ribs and Beer Battered Chicken Wings at a discount!'

Leonid's stomach growled.

He hadn't had ribs in a while.

The detective got out of bed, mind set on the prospect of ribs, and left the room.

---------------

No wonder they call this place Yappy Hour, thought Leo. It's LOUD in here.

In fact, it was so loud, Leonid didn't even hear the bell above the front door ring.

All around, he could see people at the tables and the bar, eating and chatting away while occasionally watching the sports on the TV. He felt himself cringe at the slight increase in noise as he walked up to the stand, where the seater stood.

They saw him and cleared their throat. “Table for?…”

“Table for one.”

“Just a moment.”

The seater walked away for a few seconds.

After those seconds, they came back, quickly grabbing a menu,

"I'll lead you to your table, sir."

Leonid followed the seater to a table, where one side had both seats, and the other had regular chairs.

As the seater placed the menu on the table, Leonid sat in a booth chair, reclining into the leather padding.

The seater leaned down a bit. "A waiter will be with you soon."

They left as quick as that.

Leo opened the menu, taking a look at some of the menu items (ginger beef on johnnycakes, spicy poutine, chicken wings and fries, hot-smoked salmon sandwich) as he sighed a bit.

He couldn't help looking around the pub as he moped in his thoughts. Look at me, he thought, sitting around in some pub while a kidnapping suspect is on the loose. What kind of detective am I?! His FAMILY'S paying me to find him and I can't even find one measly--

-- Holy shit.

Across from him was Jack Harris.

... Or at least he thought it was. From the back view at least, the hare matched the description of Jack-- chestnut brown fur, smoothly brushed headfur, wide eyes, mediocre fashion sense. He was sitting at a table with about four other people, all of them in different business garb.

It had to be him.

As he was looking, one of the people there happened to see him. Leo recognized him-- he was the grolar bear he first talked about Jack to. The man tapped the hare on the shoulder and started pointing to Leo, speaking words Leo couldn't hear over the other patrons. The hare turned around.

He looked exactly like Jack.

It HAD to be him.

The hare got up with a smile and walked over to Leonid, sitting down at the chair as Leonid continued gawking at him.

Finally, the hare opened his mouth and spoke.

"So... you're a college buddy, huh?"

Leo gulped a bit and composed himself. "UH. Yes."

The hare chuckled. "I didn't know a detective could have to go to the Missoury Economics Collegiate, let alone take courses in business."

"Wh-- how did you know I was a detective?"

"Ruben told me. Plus, your badge is sticking out of your pocket."

Sheepishly pushing the badge back down, Leonid cleared his throat and put on his best serious detective voice.

"Truthfully, I've never went to college with you. I'm Leonid Aksakov, Private Investigator."

"Jack Harris. Charmed."

I KNEW IT! Leonid shouted in his mind. Out loud, he continued.

"I've come to ask you some questions, Mr. Harris."

"About what?"

"Well... a few months ago, a woman named Grementine Mewton went missing. I was told you were a former associate of hers."

A strange look seemed to pass over Jack's face after he said that. Before Jack could respond, however, a shadow loomed over the table.

Leonid looked up and met the eye of the waiter-- a moose, looking to be around 8 feet tall. His nametag read "Steven".

"Are you gentlemen ready to order?" The moose asked in a deep, gentle voice.

Leonid's eyes flickered between him and Jack before he answered.

'I-- uh, yeah, we're ready."

Out of the corner of his eye, Leonid almost swore he saw Jack's eye twitch.

"Alright, then. I'm obliged to inform you that today is Boney Thursday, and you get half off any wings or ribs you order." the waiter replied.

"I'm aware, thank you." replied Leonid, going back to the menu.

Jack raised a finger. "If you can, I'll have a tall drink of water." he announced.

Steven the waiter chuckled a bit. "If you say so, Mr. Harris. What about you, sir?"

"Glass of Pepsi." piped Leo.

Steven wrote it down on the pad.

"Alright, Pepsi and water... what about your meals?

Leonid went back to the ribs and wings, looking over the potential foods-- Mexican Barbeque Ribs, Ginger Ribs & Peameal, Classic Hot & Smoky, Mooseback Ribs, and--

"... What are Maple Fried Ribs?"

"We coat the ribs in maple syrup and Panko breadcrumbs before deep frying them."

The detective grimaced. "I'll have the Mooseback Ribs."

"And for your side?"

"Uh... curly fries?"

"Got it."

"I'll have the Beer Battered Wings and a side salad, please." stated Jack.

Steven scribbled their orders down, before putting the notepad back in his pocket, simply saying, "Your orders will be ready in a little while."

With that, he sauntered away, giving Leonid a little wink as he did.

Flustered and a little confused, Leo shook away the blush on his face and refocused on Jack.

"Again, I'd like to ask you a few questions about Ms. Mewton." he restated.

"Sure, shoot!" Jack replied, elbows on the table and holding up his head.

Jack took the notepad he usually kept around in his backpocket, a golf pencil besides it. He took a deep breath.

Well, I know Ms. Mothgo didn't paint that good of a picture of you, he thought to himself. Let's see if you really ARE a piece of work.

"Alright, Jack-- what was Ms. Mewton like?"

Jack let out a dreamy sigh. "Beautiful... stunning... smart... tantalizing... feisty... mysterious... basically the most desirable woman you could ever ask for."

Trying not to frown, Leonid pencilled in his answer.

"What is your relationship to (or with) her?"

A wistful look with a touch of real sadness washed over Jack's face as he answered again. "She was... my first love. We dated for five positively dreamlike months until she... she dumped me. Since then, we'd see each other around sometimes, maybe talk a bit here and there."

Leonid nodded, writing that down as well (along with a little note reading 'Что за неудачник...').

"When did you see her last?"

"Back in November. The 15th I think. Saw her getting stuff at a grocery store and we chatted a bit."

"'Bout what?"

"Y'know... life stuff. How we were doing in them. She told me she was going away for a little bit."

Scribble scribble.

"Did you know her specific plans?"

"Naw, she wouldn't say. She was being weirdly secretive. That's part of why I like her so much. I love figuring out how she works."

Scribble scribble scribble scribble.

"Do you know anyone who may wish ill will upon her?"

"I know two."

Leonid raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Her dads-- Lionel and Lupus Mewton. They never had a great relationship. Lionel's a doctor, Lupus is a bigshot lawyer, they had great expectations of her. Grem wasn't entirely keen on those expectations, and she could be a bit... troublesome, too."

Leo nodded. "Do you know where they live?"

"Hometon, Missoury, 45 [STREET NAME]."

The detective jotted it down.

"Now, I want to talk about something your cousin said... Does Paula Lopez ring a bell?"

Jack nodded. "Yeah, she's my aunt Luanne and Uncle Anton's kid. I'm guessing you know she took my house?"

"Yes. She mentioned you had a lot of 'weird pictures' of a girl in your house. I was wondering what that was about."

Jack scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. "Man, ever since she married Cary, she's been overthinking everything. I get she's got little kids, but you don't gotta look into things so much! Anyway, I had a couple pictures of Grem around the house, mostly from when we were dating... they're just nice keepsakes. I left 'em behind when me and the wife moved."

A-HA.

Quickling scribbling that down, Leonid got to the last question:

"Can I hear about your wife?"

The dreamy look returned to Jack's face.

"Claire is... amazing." he sighed. "I couldn't ask for anyone better. She's so nice, and caring, and smart... I can see us staying together, til death do us part."

Leonid nodded again, writing this information down-- as well as underlining his wife's name.

"Thank you for answering all of my questions, Mr. Harris." Leonid stated, putting away the pad and pencil. "I hope it wasn't too botherso-"

The two were interrupted by plates.

Specifically plates being placed quite quickly in front of them (along with glasses, though they were drowned out by the sound of ceramic against hardwood). On Leonid's plate was a rack of very large ribs, over twice the size of any regular ribs he'd been given before, drowning in a spicy-smelling sauce. Next to it was a steaming pile of crispy curly fries. Jack's plate had 4-5 chicken wings in flaky batter, plus some Caesar salad.

The waiter-- Steven again-- looked down at them with a grin.

"Bon Appetit, you two."

----------------------------

Leonid only managed to finish half of the moose ribs.

As delicious as they were, he simply couldn't handle the amount of food he'd been given. He only got a third of the way through the fries, too.

While Leonid suffered where he sat, Jack picked the last of the meat off his wings using his large front teeth. Sitting back with a sigh, he chirped, "It was nice talkin' to you, detective. I hope I could answer your questions well!"

"Same for me," Leonid groaned out, "You've been a valuable source."

Steven the waiter came back with a checkbook and portable card scanner. "I'm here for the bill, now."

Leonid started reaching into his pocket, but Jack spoke up with "It's alright, Leonid." before taking out his wallet.

"You... You're paying for me?" Leo blurted.

Jack nodded sagely as he tapped his card again the machine.

A receipt was printed out (which Steven briefly scribbled on) before he gave it to Jack.

"Pleasure doing business with you, gentlemen." He crooned.

With that, the moose was gone again.

Jack briefly looked over the receipt before handing it to Leonid, explaining, "I think this is for you."

Leonid took a look of his own.

Under the amount paid was a phone number and a doodle of a moose.

Blushing furiously, Leonid stuffed it into his pocket before getting up.

"Well... I'm gonna be leaving now. I'd get a takeout box, but I don't think I can handle any more of this."

"Same here," Jack responded, "I don't think there's any room for the crumbs on my plate. I don't think my wife'll want 'em either."

"I see then. Goodbye, Harris."

"Bye, detective!"

So they both left.

In the parking lot, leaning against his car, Leonid took a drag off a cigarette as he reflected on his encouter with Jack.

Well... I know he's annoying, that's for sure. I'm still not sure if he IS a kidnapper, but... it's a bit weird how his wife has Grementine's original name. Plus, the way he answered didn't really feel right.

Oh well. Maybe his wife has answers?

[anamiabunny]

First of all I really want to thank you for all the love on my post about my lowest weight being my motivation.

I have never had anything on tumblr get that popular and while that isn’t my goal in being on here it really motivates me and validates the fact that I in fact was struggling. At the time I had been turned down from a treatment center for gaining to much weight bc my parents were instructed to do their job for them until they could admit me.

I think my starting weight may have been a bit different. I think I lost weight after august.

I have been consistently dropping weight every day though I do feel concern that though I’m losing weight I may plateau at some point.

I think my roommate may have heard me purg3 last night. I feel really bad. Though I am happy I have almost gotten rid of all foods I normally would do that with in my dorm.

I do have a nut butter based protein bar for breakfast every morning then do not eat throughout the day for the most part but I have miso if I really need some food to help me focus

I want to be clear that I DO NOT indorse eds and that purg31ng is VERY bad for you.

I will admit it has affected my schoolwork some though that also might be my MDD.

If you have any tips on keeping up with schoolwork pls let me know I am literally swamped right now.

It also has been affecting my relationship with my boyfriend. He’s really worried for me. I talk to him about it sometimes if he asks and he is really one of the few people I have to talk to. If any of ya’ll are open to talking I’d appreciate it.

Sorry for the extremely long post. Just wanted to give an open and honest update.

stay safe <3

oct 24

Cw: 124.6 lbs

- 2.4 lbs from last weigh in

[mariana-oconnor]

Wisteria Lodge pt 4

Last time, we left Holmes and Watson about to mount an intrepid rescue of probable inside woman and possibly dead Miss Burnett, who at 40 years old is apparently too old for love, because the Victorian era was an ageist hellscape.

I have come up with a solution by which Mr Garcia (who I have decided is a bisexual spy) and Miss Burnet are actually the good guys. But this requires the two girls to have been pre-kidnapped and so Garcia's plan would be a counter-kidnapping.

I mean, I jumped straight to kidnapping as soon as it seemed likely that the governess was involved and there were two young girls. I may have jumped the gun a bit, but weirdly the idea is sticking with me.

It was not, I must confess, a very alluring prospect. The old house with its atmosphere of murder, the singular and formidable inhabitants, the unknown dangers of the approach, and the fact that we were putting ourselves legally in a false position all combined to damp my ardour.

Psh, I bet they didn't damp Mr Garcia's ardour.

Yeah, that was a cheap shot, but seriously Watson, come on. Screw your courage to the sticking place and all that.

But it was not destined that our investigation should have so adventurous an ending.

...well that's anticlimactic. I was all geared up for a rescue mission! What am I going to do with these grappling hooks now?

“They've gone, Mr. Holmes. They went by the last train. The lady broke away, and I've got her in a cab downstairs.”

Did they go because of Holmes' investigation of the house or did they go because of whatever Mr Baynes' mysterious cunning plan is?

"I shan't forget the face at the carriage window as I led her away. I'd have a short life if he had his way—the black-eyed, scowling, yellow devil.”

A lot of 'devil' faces in windows this time around. And all on ethnic minorities as far as I can tell. Racist Victorian tropes, my beloathed.

Good for Miss Burnet for fighting back even when she's been drugged up to the gills on opium. I really hope she wasn't planning a kidnapping because I want to like her. And I really don't like her employer. Not drugging or whipping your employees is like the lowest bar of employer conduct to jump over. Even Violet Hunter wasn't drugged or whipped and she had a terrible work environment. I want him to be unambiguously the bad guy. Also because I want the poor cook to be acquitted.

“I was sure Henderson, as he calls himself, felt that he was suspected, and that he would lie low and make no move so long as he thought he was in any danger. I arrested the wrong man to make him believe that our eyes were off him. I knew he would be likely to clear off then and give us a chance of getting at Miss Burnet.”

OK, fine. You were right, but fuck you for arresting and attacking an innocent man. Poor show. Dick move. Be better.

(is that the first gif I've posted from an actual Sherlock Holmes media for one of these liveblogs? I think it might be...)

"We can't arrest without her evidence, that is clear, so the sooner we get a statement the better.”

Read this as 'her without' rather than 'without her' and was confused about what was going on, as she seems pretty innocent of the murder. But then I reread and realised that I once again fail at reading comprehension. Not like I have a degree in it or literally work in a related field or anything.

“Henderson,” the inspector answered, “is Don Murillo, once called the Tiger of San Pedro.”

Who the fuck is that?

OK, Watson's going to become Captain Exposition for a minute, great. Gimme some backstory, bay-beeee.

Oh... Is San Pedro a fake country? Did ACD make up a fake country for this story so he couldn't be accused of being rude about a specific country? Or do I just not know history?

Central America, okay, not the Caribbean, but right ballpark.

The dictator, his two children, his secretary, and his wealth had all escaped them. From that moment he had vanished from the world, and his identity had been a frequent subject for comment in the European press.

I feel... I feel like if this had been real information and a real country I would have worked this out? Like if I had known there was a mysteriously missing dictator from a formerly Spanish colony with a green and white flag, who had two children, I feel like I called every part of this except the specifics, which I couldn't have called because they're made up.

“Once already his life has been attempted, but some evil spirit shielded him. Now, again, it is the noble, chivalrous Garcia who has fallen, while the monster goes safe."

Alright, so no kidnapping, just assassination. Chivalrous, charming bi assassin Garcia is once again on the side of good and not abducting children. Pity he got his face beaten in.

"My husband—yes, my real name is Signora Victor Durando—was the San Pedro minister in London. He met me and married me there. A nobler man never lived upon earth. Unhappily, Murillo heard of his excellence, recalled him on some pretext, and had him shot. With a premonition of his fate he had refused to take me with him. His estates were confiscated, and I was left with a pittance and a broken heart."

Vengeance!

"I was to see that the doors were open and the signal of a green or white light in a window which faced the drive was to give notice if all was safe or if the attempt had better be postponed."

Light not shutters, but coolcoolcool.

"But they determined to get rid forever of Garcia. They had gagged me, and Murillo twisted my arm round until I gave him the address. I swear that he might have twisted it off had I understood what it would mean to Garcia."

How did you... not know... what it would mean to Garcia? Like, what did you think they were going to do? Have a tea party? Invite him to play his guitar at their next shindig? Have a chat about gardening? I get that you were being tortured for information, so there's no shame in giving him up, but you can't say 'well, I didn't know they would kill him.'

"This afternoon a good lunch was brought me, but the moment after I took it I knew that I had been drugged."

Also feel like maybe you should have guessed this before you ate it, after they'd been starving you for days. But you were probably out of your mind hungry and on the edge of hallucinating, so I suppose that makes sense.

It is a matter of history, however, that a little time was still to elapse before the Tiger of San Pedro should meet with his deserts. [...] Some six months afterwards the Marquess of Montalva and Signor Rulli, his secretary, were both murdered in their rooms at the Hotel Escurial at Madrid.

In the best traditions of these stories, the bad guys reach justice offscreen at the hands of unknown people. 😂

But Vengeance has been satisfied.

BUT, there is just enough time for some more racist discussion of the cook, because of course there is. And it turns out his entire inclusion as a character is completely pointless and a racist little red herring that goes nowhere and just had some extra racism piled on top for garnish. Wonderful. I hope they released him and didn't keep him in prison for assaulting a police officer/resisting arrest, because when you literally arrested him illegally for a crime you knew he didn't commit, that's bullshit.

I was right about it being a Victorian depiction of Voodoo, though, so... I get points for knowing my racist stereotypes? I feel like that's like an extra level of losing, though.

Wow this story went from gay hookup gone wrong to racist mess in two seconds flat, huh? I miss the simpler times when Mr Scott Eccles being an oblivious tory was the biggest problem.

On a happier note, Silver Blaze is next, and I remember a lot about this one just from the title, so I guess there will be no attempt to solve it, just memes for days.

ETA: That little wrap up does not tell us what happened to the children. What happened to the children? Where did they go? The little girls just disappear. Did I miss something? What happened to the children?

[spirngakawening]

Thinking about Falsettos again

'I Never Wanted to Love You' - this group of people all telling each other 'I love you', only by saying "I wish I didn't". They can't genuinely confess it another way. We're told right at the start of the show, before we're taking anything too seriously, that love is all these awful and complicated things but then it gets to this point and we believe them. It's 'oh sh*t. Love is messed up. F**k.'

INWTLY says "I am supposed to love you. Despite that, I actually love you. And I hate you for it; I hate myself for it." it says "I don't love you in the way I am meant to or want to but what I want is contradictory and I don't know anymore but I know this hurts, hurts all of us." it says "I am not yet able to express my love for you in a healthy way. We are unable to healthily love each other as we currently are". It perhaps calls into question what love 'truly' is, but the fact that these characters are saying any of this indicates that they love each other, in whatever twisted way. And by the time it's the second act, and it's the final scene with the remainder of the cast all holding each other in solemn silence and solidarity, you can see that they do love each other. They've been inching towards healthier ways of loving, and now that they must grieve you see a clear conclusion of what you've seen throughout it all: they love each other, they just needed to get better at it. It's sorta funny how the moment that they appear healthiest is when they're all grieving a loss. But that is also a healthy emotion in this situation! They're not in emotional turmoil from a messy interpersonal hell they've created, they're appropriately grieving for a dead loved one.

The tenderness and hesitancy but firmness in 'Father to Son'. Marvin's lost p much everything, at his lowest, and he sees his son and he loves him and he has to tell him not to be like him. Don't make the same mistakes. Jason's a smart kid, he's a good kid. Marvin's messed him up. He's gotta do some damage control. Marvin "only wanted to see [his] face in" Jason's, but we know it's more than that. He is his father, he loves his son. And that line at the bar mitzvah - "don't know why, but he looks.. like Marvin" - hits so damn hard after that earlier line! The worst thing, we think, is that Jason could turn out like his father. But that changes.

Marvin loves his wife and son and lover. Not in the way he's supposed to, until he loves them exactly how he's supposed to. Idk if I'm making this make sense lol they're all dealing with a) societal expectations & what they think they want based on that, b) what they actually need/deserve, c) what they actually want (which they gotta dig for among the layers). Ugh ok I've lost any brain power I had agshdkfpl dk if any of this makes sense or is valuable or anything but,, yeh. Thoughts

[glass-expanse]

AITA (Am I The Abusive child/abuser of the good will of my family)

I have a 2005 truck that is rusting out in my parent's driveway which frustrates my dad to no end. It needs a new battey just to be moved. But with all the other things happening in my life right now, that is one of my lowest priorities. And he keeps bringing it up at terrible times, even if it should be clear it's a bad time (eg when I'm in the middle of discussing my frustration surrounding work or similar things that are stressing me out currently). And he says that he feels abused... By my truck being parked a couple parking spaces away from the garage.

And then today he took that idea further. I had made bread last Thursday, then I had work Friday and was tired, then I made food Saturday and ran around the ENTIRE day, and then Sunday I was recovering from that plus having a terrible day emotional regulation speaking, and then the last two days I have had work and been tired from that still. (Real medical mystery that I am waiting bloodwork results for and taking pills for, I am regularly on a 6-8 on the fatigue scale on work days.) And my mom, who doesn't cook, is driven nuts by the fact that there is some flour still on the counters (I've dusted off the counters a couple times and vacuumed at least three times). And my dad says that's an abuse of the family to not get it clean, despite having legitimate physical reasons barring me from taking care of them. The condition isn't anything new, hasn't been improving very much at all, and I'm investing in getting it fixed.

So. I have things that have been "shirked" largely due to inability to address them. Am I abusing the family's good will like my dad says? Or are they just frustrated that I'm not as capable as I used to be? Surely I can't be crazy for thinking that this is just them being frustrated that I can't help as much as I used to.

[anime-corner]

Clearing It Up

A/N: I'm not so sure if I did well with this one. But!! I still hope you like it, anon! Also, this might have the lowest possible word count that I've made. By the way, really sorry for taking so long, classes have been draining me and.. yeah. Keep safe, everyone!

Sawamura stood with sweaty hands as he looked at you, mouth agape. Oh, how did it even come to this?

• • •

It had been a couple of weeks ever since he asked for your best friend's help to ask you out. Of course, he made sure you wouldn't notice. But, what he didn't know was how perceptive you are, taking note of how your friend would always make up an excuse for you to head home alone or the sudden closeness with the captain. You thought that they probably wanted to keep their relationship a secret, so you shrugged them off and just decided to wait until your friend told you about it. Until they were ready.

But it didn't come. You were still left in the dark. Weeks turned into a month and you were starting to wonder if she even thought of telling you. It confused you, even until now.

"Where are you going, (f/n)? Aren't we supposed to head home together today?" You asked her just as she was about to head out of the room.

"Uh, I… I-- the girls and I have practice today. Yumi-chan told me during lunch. I'm really really sorry, (y/n)-chan. I promise we'll walk home tomorrow!" She shut her eyes, bowing down. You only chuckled at her, patting her on the head.

"It's fine, (f/n). But, you didn't have to lie to me if you're going to meet up with Sawamura-san." You said as you headed outside, stopping when you heard (f/n)'s voice.

"I-I'm not…"

"Yumi asked me if you changed your mind about joining them at the batting center." You turned your head over your shoulder, a smile on your lips, "Well, I should get going. Have fun."

The hallways were quiet and abandoned, not a student left inside their rooms to clean, it was as if everyone finished earlier than necessary. Like it was all staged. Only when you left the building were hushed voices from a distance could be heard, more likely from the clubs situated outside. As you turned right after passing the school entrance, you were greeted by a figure leaning on the bricked wall. His gaze was on the device in his hand before turning to you when he heard footsteps nearing his location.

"Oh? Sawamura-san." He perked up, body straight and eyes staring into your (e/c) ones.

"(y/n)-san." He spoke, hands sweating from nervousness. Today was the day he decided to tell you what he feels. He can't back out now like he did numerous times before because of the same nervousness he feels right now.

"If you're here for (f/n), she'll be down in a minute." You stated

"No, wait. A-actually, you're the one I was waiting for…"

"What?"

"It's, I mean… How should I put this… I-- can you give me the chance t-to ask you out? On a date?" It was quite a sight, seeing the captain of the boys' volleyball team stutter out the words he wanted to say. It wasn't in his character and not once did you see him the way he is now.

"Eh? But don't you like (f/n)? Why are you asking me?" That caught him by surprise. Everything he planned to say was immediately thrown out of the window.

"What? No, I---"

• • •

That's right. The reason why he was in this situation right now was because of him. You misunderstood his interactions with your friend and thought he liked her. If only he made it clear from the start and listened to his friends and fellow teammates' advice to not do anything stupid, then the both of you wouldn't be discussing this right now, with him trying to explain that it wasn't (f/n) living rent-free inside his heart and mind, and with you trying to understand the boy who was doing his best to find words to describe and explain everything. What was there to explain again?

'Don't mess this up, Sawamura! She already thinks that I like you. Not really, I'm not quite sure if that's what she's thinking. But, as I said, don't mess it up!' He remembered the text message he received just before you came into view.

"It's not her…" It was hushed, only within his hearing range. You thought that he just realized the feelings he has for your best friend as you didn't want to be in the middle of a war between confusing feelings.

"I'll head home now. Good luck, Sawamura-san." You began to walk away when a hand gripped your wrist. It wasn't tight enough to hurt but just right for you to stay.

"I s-said it's not her. You're the one I like, (y/n)-san!" You froze. Despite him stuttering over his sentence only once, the way he said it gave an impact on his words that made you listen when he began listing things about you, "You're nice and beautiful and overall amazing. I know that you furrow your brows when you're thinking too much or that you hum every time you think that you're alone. Everything about you caught my attention and so, here I am, telling you that it's not (f/n) that's on my mind. It's you."

"What about (f/n)? And those past weeks that you were together? Surely you weren't just toying with her, right?" You asked, not sure how to respond with the facts the dark-haired captain stated about you. Hell, you didn't even know you did anything when thinking.

"I asked her to help me in asking you out. I have liked you since last year and I didn't know how to approach you without stuttering or getting distracted by you since we aren't that close two begin with." Sawamura confessed, eyeing your expression for any negative reactions from revealing his plan, "So I asked (f/n)."

"I see…"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'I SEE'!!? GIVE THE GUY A CHANCE WILL YOU, (Y/N)?!" (f/n) popped her head from in between the metal gate, her hands on the bars. Her sudden appearance shocked the two of you, turning both of your heads towards her.

"(f-f/n)?"

"Aish! I messed up, didn't I? W-well, it was your fault that I decided to intervene and be the best wingman-- er, woman for my boy, Daichi!" She pushed her hand through the bars, finger pointed at you, "Who in their right mind says 'I see' to a confession huh!?"

"I didn't mean it like that." You pout and at that moment Sawamura was glad you weren't looking in his direction as he was a blushing mess the second his eyes glanced at you when you answered. But he spoke too soon when you glanced at him. Then came the fluttering feeling inside you that you tried so much to push away.

He cleared his throat after he attempted to calm down, "S-so (y/n), will you give this guy a chance?"

After a few seconds dwelling on it, you gave the third year a gentle smile. That fluttering feeling, you concluded, was maybe the same feeling he was feeling, "Alright, Sawamura-san. I'm looking forward to it."

"I won't let you down!" He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. A bright smile on his lips and eyes shimmering with excitement for the next day.

If I showed you the reasons why I fell for you, would you also fall for the reasons why you should fall for me?

"So (y/n), what do girls like?" You choked on your food the moment he asked his question.

"W-what?" You answered after recovering. He shot you with a smile, opening his mouth as his gaze turned towards the sky.

The two of you were eating in front of the gym while the others present were practicing. You asked them to join the two of you but they declined.

"You know, the things girls like. I want to impress someone, kind of. I really like this girl and I thought that giving her stuff that girls like would be a nice way to build up the courage to actually confess." You blinked twice, humming in response. Closing your eyes as you leaned back, your arms as support, you replied with a thoughtful look.

"Well, not everyone likes the same things. For example, some girls would like make-up or parties. Some like playing basketball or being one with the guys. The others just like being alone reading a book while listening to music," He nodded, though you couldn't see so you continued, "It depends on what kind of girl you like. It's a big plus if you're already friends with her since I'm positive that friends share almost everything about them."

"Hmm… How about what you like? I'm pretty sure whatever she likes is the same as yours." You nod, giving him a thoughtful hum.

"Well, if you put it that way-- wait, are you saying that I'm generic?!" You point at him accusingly, feigning a hurtful look at what he was implying.

"Hey, I didn't say anything like that!" You both laugh it off, the other members finding your interactions amusing, "So c'mon, what do you like?"

"I guess I like bush clovers and hydrangeas. And I like to read sometimes, when homework doesn't get in the way," You laugh to yourself, shaking your head. Sugawara's gaze stayed on your figure, "Little kids are cute too, so I like them by default. Oh, and I like watching you play volleyball!"

"Even if I don't get to play?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"You're a part of the team right? So whether or not you're playing, I'll still come and watch."

"Spoken like a true fan!" He laughed out loud, his voice being music to your ears, as cliché as that sounds.

"Now you're just teasing." You pout, crossing your arms.

"Well, thanks for that (y/n)! I'll head back to class first so I could think of a few things I need to get for her." He gave you a soft pat on your shoulder before stretching his body.

"Right. Good luck with her then! I'm sure whoever she is must be pretty lucky if the Sugawara Koushi's out to get her heart!" You encouraged him despite the growing pain in your heart.

Class dragged on slowly, the walk home was even slower than that. The reality that you gave your crush an advice that would surely impress the girl he likes into winning her heart haunted you. But that's what you get for keeping your feelings from him for six years. A sigh escaped your lips, wondering what'll change starting tomorrow morning.

• • •

It was quiet when you arrived at school the next day, heading inside the building half an hour early like usual. Opening your shoe locker, a note slipped out of it. Picking it up, you noticed the message was actually a passage from one of your favorite novels. A sad smile graced your lips, wishing you weren't just someone to be practiced upon.

“I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived: I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.”

You pocketed the note, exchanging your outdoor shoes with your uwabaki. Once done, you walked off towards your empty classroom. Sliding the door open, your eyes caught sight of a single bush clover flower on your desk and on closer inspection, another note was attached around its stem.

"You are sunlight through a window, which I stand in, warmed. My darling."

It was starting to hurt you now. But you shrugged it off, having a whole day ahead of you. And you certainly didn't want to spend it by thinking of your feelings for him.

Lunch came as you buried your head beneath your arms. You have forgotten to pack your food before you left home, probably because you were dreading this day. You groaned before raising your head up when someone called for you.

"Hmm? Sorry, what is it?" Turning, it was a classmate of yours whom you often talked to.

"This guy from another class came by and asked me to give this to you." He passed you the plastic wrapped bread, placing it on your hands.

"Oh uh, thanks. Do you think you recognize the guy?" You asked, already having a name and face in mind.

"Yeah, I think it was--"

"Oi Sho, come on! We've got basketball practice, remember?!" Another classmate interrupted, standing just outside the door.

"Ah right, sorry (l/n). I gotta go." Shokichi waved goodbye, rushing off towards his teammate.

"It's fine!"

Looking down at the melon pan in your hand, you noticed another note attached to it, 'Is giving out snippets going to be his thing for the girl he likes?'

"In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

You shake your head. Whatever his plan was, it was working. You just hoped that girl would feel the same thing you're feeling once Sugawara shows just how much he likes her.

"Geez Koushi… Don't play with my heart like this if you're just going to love someone else." You whispered to yourself, a sad smile gracing your lips.

• • •

The bell signalling the end of the day rang as you cleaned up your desk, stuffing it inside your bag neatly. That was when you noticed something slip out of one of your notebooks.

Picking it up, your eyes widened at the object in your hand. It was a photograph of you, one you didn't remember when it was taken. You were sitting on the grass by the park, back against a tree and attention on a book in your hand. The words 'At the back' caught your attention, written in a small recognizable penmanship.

"I wish I knew how to quit you. But in vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

You carefully placed it in between your notebooks, making sure it wasn't ruined. Even if he did this out of practice, you wanted to treasure it.

Leaving your classroom and walking down the hall, you passed by the gym. Voices called out to you, turning your head to be met by Nishinoya and Tanaka. Behind them were the other second years; Narita, Kinoshita and Ennoshita.

"Oh hey, you guys needed me for something?" You asked, stopping in front of them.

"(l/n)-san, will you please follow us inside?" Tanaka pleaded, hands clasped on yours as Nishinoya was on his knees, hugging your waist.

"Hey baldy, don't make it sound so weird!" Kinoshita scolded, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

"Honestly, we're just here to make sure you don't do anything stupid." Ennoshita said, pulling the two away from you by their collars.

"I… don't really have a say in this, huh?" You sighed, scratching the back of your head.

"Either way, they'll just drag you in." Narita commented.

"Alright, lead the way then!"

Entering the gym, you were met with the figure of Sugawara Koushi. The two second years pushed you closer to him before leaving the two of you all alone. You guessed that they were hiding behind the closed doors, with presumably the rest of the team.

"Koushi, what's going--" You began but was cut off when Sugawara suddenly exclaimed.

"I like you!" His eyes were shut as he bowed down, hands outstretched waiting for you to take them.

"Huh? Is this still part of your plan to confess?" You stated, gaze on anything but him, mostly due to you trying to calm your heart from exploding and the words you wanted to say from spilling, "Because if it is, I think Noya and Tanaka aren't the best choice in inviting her to talk."

"I guess. But it did get you to come, right?” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Of course she does!” His smile returned, even larger than before.

“Suppose so. Though, I’m not quite sure if your plan would work on her…” Sugawara's smile turned upside down, worry painted all over his face.

“What do you mean--”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. This is cute and really endearing but like I said, I’m not generic and she probably doesn’t like the same things as me.” You pointed out making Sugawara chuckle.

“S-so, you mean..”

“Fine, I believe you. Well then, good luck with her tomorrow, Koushi!” You turned to leave, waving your hand lazily.

“Wait, where are you going?” He questioned making you stop.

“Home?” You tilted your head to the side a bit, “Why? Do you still need me for practice?

“Practice?” He stood there confused, “I wasn’t using you for practice, (n/n)!”

“I like you, (y/n). The girl that I was talking about was you all along.” Sugawara laughed out loud, realizing what you were thinking of all day, “If I had known that you would have misunderstood everything I did as practice, I would have told you right from the start!”

“Now you’re just telling me that I’m stupid.” You huffed, a pout on your lips. He chuckled, walking towards you before ruffling your hair.

“My plan did work. I like you, I really do also, if you’re going to be stupid, at least you’re my stupid!” He hugged you, making sure you wouldn't be able to hit him after what he had said.

“Koushi! That’s insulting!” You struggled to free yourself.

“But, what do you say?” You stopped as you looked up at him, a blush settling on your cheeks.

“Koushi--”

“I like you too…” Just then, a message popped up from your phone. Trying to fish for the device while being engulfed in a hug, you noticed that it was from the guy in front of you.

“You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.”

You felt soft lips on yours, just sitting there, unmoving. Shocked, you kissed back after a few seconds, eyes slowly closing as he pulled you closer, if that was even possible considering the little distance left between the two of you. The action only lasted for a minute when two second years decided to interrupt.

"WHOO!! SUGA-SAN, GET SOME!!!" Both of them shouted, before flinching when they felt their captain behind them.

"NOYA! TANAKA!" Daichi shouted, hands on each of their shoulders.

"I swear, these two…" You heard Sugawara whisper to himself, earning him a giggle from you. He smiled afterwards, kissing you on the forehead, holding on to you tightly.

You've been with me since the beginning. Now, I want to see the end with you, a ring on your finger and a lifetime ahead of us.

Azumane Asahi has always been quite the scaredy-cat but when you enter the room, or at least within his field of vision, he runs away instantly. The two of you had always been friends but with the rapid beating of his hearts, the butterflies in his stomach and the blood rushing to his cheeks, he’s afraid he might say something wrong and make you hate him.

To say that you were liked was an understatement. You were as well known as Shimizu, confessions coming in from the left and right. And with every rejection, Asahi’s confidence drops, more so seeing as you two were friends. He wanted to tell you but the words wouldn’t come out of his tongue, stumbling and stuttering. So, he’s only option was to run, hide and escape the possible embarrassment.

• • •

"Asahi-san, you should stop and just tell her!!" Nishinoya bounced around the ace who had a sad look on his face.

"He's right Asahi. You can't hide forever, you know. If you do, then someone else would just snatch up her heart for himself." Sawamura commented, arms crossed as he closed his eyes.

"(l/n)-san also has been asking about you and she looks pretty upset." Shimizu joined in the conversation, informing the small group about what happened earlier today.

"S-she does?" Asahi's frown worsened, his eyes lingering at his feet.

"See? I told you this would happen." Sugawara crossed his arms as well, sighing in dismay. He had told the ace for the hundredth time this week that avoiding her would only be bad for him.

"What do I do now? She probably hates me. No, I c-can't have that!" Asahi panicked, hands clenched on either side of his head.

"Alright big guy, you've got us! So stop worrying already!!" Tanaka patted the giant, a grin on his lips as he thought of a plan, "How about this?"

The group of six huddled closely, earning strange looks from the rest of the team, "What’s going on?" They only shrugged in reply.

• • •

The next day, a smile was on your lips, humming a tune as you skipped through the semi-crowded hallways. Today was going to be a great day, you could already feel it. Suddenly, you bumped into something. Looking up, you realized it was Azumane Asahi. A nervous feeling washed over you as you backed away a bit.

“Asahi! H-hey! Long time no see!” How many weeks has it been since you last saw Asahi? He had been avoiding you for who knows what reasons and the reassurance his friends would give you wasn't helping at all. You wanted to confront him about this but seeing as you couldn't even catch a glimpse of him, you decided to just let him be until he was ready. You just wished you knew what you did wrong.

Apparently, today was that day, “(y/n), can we talk after school?” He rubbed the back of his neck, as equally nervous as you.

“Huh? Oh, uh, sure..?” You answered with uncertainty, “I’ll wait for you outside of class then?”

“Y-yeah. See you then?” You nodded as the two of you parted. You both talked. That's right. ‘Today’s going to be a great day.’

The clock ticked slowly but, you hadn’t noticed. Everything made you busy, the school works, group activities and a few confessions in between the ten minute breaks you had every after class. Finally, the bell rang, you packed your things inside of your bag, waiting outside of your class as planned. A few squeals could be heard from the floor below, you thought it must have been one of first years’ or second years’. But the voices grew louder, it honestly irritated you until a familiar voice called you.

“(n/n)!” Your eyes widened at the owner, breath caught in your throat.

“Kazu! What are you doing here?!” You walked up to him, slapping his arm playfully. A pout on your lips as he only chuckled.

“I told you I’d come and get you right?” He ruffled your hair to which you groaned in frustration.

“B-but won’t you get in trouble?” You asked, ignoring all the whispering that surrounded you two.

“Nah, I actually bumped into your vice principal and asked if I could just fetch you.” He replied before bending down a bit to match your height, “Also, did you notice his--”

“We don’t talk about that here!” You immediately shut his mouth with your hand, eyes gazing around to check if the official was around. A gave out a sigh of relief when you made sure that he wasn’t there before you stiffened when a familiar voice ringed in your ears. You didn’t know why but the tone itself was enough to almost break yours. Almost.

“(y-y/n)?” You and Kazuto turned your head to the side and saw Asahi with the second and third years behind him.

“Oh right! I’ll meet you down in a bit, I just need to talk to Asahi about something.” You averted your attention a bit, gesturing towards the tall male.

“Hmm? Alright, I understand!” He slightly nudged you, winking. You madly blushed at this, fully knowing what he was talking about.

“I-it’s not like that!” He gave the third year a look, muttering along the lines of ‘good luck’ or something else.

“Sorry about that, Asahi. He likes to mess with people a lot.” You nervously let out a laugh, noticing his teammates walked farther away from the two of you.

“It’s fine…” He muttered just enough for you to hear.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” His eyes wandered around, noting that only a few were left roaming the halls before calming his nerves.

“Ah… that’s…” It was silent after that, not quite sure how to start it off.

“Come on Asahi! We already talked about this!” One of them shouted before being muffled by another. You weren't sure who but you were certain that it was Tanaka who yelled.

“Support team?” You asked, a giggle escaping your lips.

“Kind of.” Asahi chuckled, already embarrassed by the situation he's in, “Anyways… Don’t be mad but the thing I wanted to say was sorry. For avoiding you during these past few weeks.”

“Oh that. You don’t have to apologize for that. I mean, I honestly thought that I did something wrong.” You uttered, clasping your hands behind your back.

“No, you actually did nothing. It was all me. I was just scared and decided to run away instead of facing it.” You furrowed at his words, questions running around your head. But the only ones you were able to ask was these.

“Scared? You don’t have to be when you’re with me. Why would I be mad about this?” He inhaled, closing his eyes, mentally preparing for your response.

“Because this is just half of the reason why I avoided you… I like you, (y/n). B-but, you’ve got a boyfriend… Maybe that’s why you keep rejecting their confessions-- Ah! It’s fine though, I understand and I--”

“You’re rambling…” You stated, noticeably seeing him freeze.

“Sorry.” He admitted, a sad smile on his face as he lowered his head, “But I’ve seen both of you for a few days now and I got to say you two look great together.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Asahi.” You announced to him, staring into his dark brown eyes.

“Y-you’re-- He’s not? What about the holding hands then? O-or your interactions with one another? I’ve actually heard a lot about you two.”

“Then you should know that he’s my brother.” His eyes widened at the information. Maybe he could have asked you first before he avoided you.

“If that’s the c-case then… Can I ask you out? On a date?” He questioned, hoping you would say 'yes'.

“Sure!” You beamed, failing to hide the smile on your lips. Not like you wanted to hide it in the first place.

“Are you sure?” Asahi did a double take, surprised that his thoughts were answered, “You’re not afraid of what people will think?”

“I’m sure. So, tomorrow?” You nodded, setting up a date for the two of you.

“Y-yeah!” You began to walk away when he responded.

“Oh, and Asahi,” You stopped after taking the first few steps down, “I like you too. I don’t care what people think because I know that all of it isn’t true. Well, see you!”

“See you…” He whispered to himself, celebrating inside his head. He finally had the girl he liked for so long.

• • •

“So?” Your brother asked as soon as you entered the vehicle.

“Alright… Maybe it was like that.” Kazuto cried victoriously to himself, punching the air and accidently hitting the roof of his car. He paid no mind to it, he was happy after all.

“I knew it! Wait ‘till mom finds out about this!” You groaned loudly, thinking how your day started happily and ended with you annoyed.

Suddenly your thoughts were filled with images of Asahi and his confession, you blushed as Kazuto teased you. You didn't mind, you were looking forward to tomorrow and the days after that. And hopefully, the coming years after.

You make me become the best version of myself, someone who doesn’t care about his own insecurities and who doesn’t take others’ opinions to heart.

[narrans]

The Orion’s Factotum | Ch. I | The Job

I was awake far before the first sun’s light. I couldn’t hardly sleep even though the summer night was cooler than it had been in a long time. The crickets were singing for most of the night in that soft, soothing way. There was a promise of rain. It was omnipresent like the first chill of winter, and goodness knew that was coming far too soon. I rousted myself and adorned the clothes they gave me; the guards that is.

My dear friend Caster had arranged the meeting which still played repeatedly in my head over and over. I didn’t say much. I didn’t need to; rather, they didn’t need me to. They merely snickered behind their helms and twisted their spears from side to side in the dirt like they were anxious to see what was to transpire. They handed me a tunic and a shift as well as undergarments not often worn by women. They told me I would need it for my work.

It was early, still dark, when I left my room and hurried down the stone streets to head to the castle and the dungeons below. They hadn’t let me go down to the prisons before. A light fog treaded alongside my feet as I traversed the unfamiliar path up the sides of the walls, down past the Low Towers, and further to The Turret.

The Turret was the prison; or, rather, where I was told to go to tend to my duties. It stood against sun, silhouetted perfectly as a lone tower. It was an ominous reminder, a warning – stay away lest you take your fate into your own hands. Some of the most dangerous prisoners in the realm were kept here – or so we were told.

I approached, I nodded to the guards who stood solemnly by the border. I had been introduced to them the day prior, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember their names. In fact, the only thing on my mind was my daughter. What was she doing this early in the morning? She had always been an early riser. There was a pang of guilt in my heart as I had not told her of this new position and the potential dangers that accompanied it.

“Oi! You!” The sound of a harsh female voice near me made my heart skip a beat. There, standing by the wooden door, were two guards I had not been acquainted with. “What’s your business here?” Her voice was forceful and direct, cutting through the air like the spear in her hand. Instantly, my nerves sent my mind reeling and everything I was told to say to them had vanished like the mist around my feet. I remember stammering when the male guard leaned over and looked me dead in the eyes. His eyes, a glossy brown, looked slightly red around the rims. They must’ve been on watch all night.

“I… erm…” I cleared my tensing throat to at least make it look like I was putting forth the effort to answer. “I’m… apologies, Sers, I am Raina. Raina Toro? I’m… um… supposed to…”

“Ahh you’re the new one, aren’t you?” asked the man, raising up with a keen and knowing look in his eyes.

“Who now?” asked the woman, giving me a suspicious stare. I shied away from the glance immediately, keeping my eyes low and grasping the cowl on my shoulders.

“You know who. This, Izett, is the Orion’s Factotum. You know, the new one?” he said with a melodic hint in his voice as if he were teasing me. I felt my limbs grow heavy and stiff while I kept my gaze averted.

“Ohhh! I remember now. They told us someone was coming, but I didn’t think it would be someone like her. Skinny shift of a thing, wouldn’t you say? I’m surprised they got the position filled so quickly; but, then again, it’s not like they last long anyway. Come on, we’re supposed to show you the ropes.” Something in Izett’s voice made me cringe. I was used to biting my tongue and keeping my thoughts to myself. This was also a position I needed. It was a good job. An honest job. I couldn’t let a few insults get to me, but that didn’t mean the other things she said weren’t worrisome.

Filled the position so quickly? Caster mentioned something like that, but he wouldn’t go to any lengths to put me in real danger, would he? And what was that other comment? They don’t last long? Who doesn’t? And why…

“Are you even listening?” the man’s voice sent my spiraling thoughts out of my head.

“Yes, Ser. Forgive me. My mind…”

“I don’t care about that. I care about not repeating myself,” he interrupted. “Really, you’re going to need to pay attention to our rules if you want to make it here. Now, let’s continue.”

They swung open the wooden door and brought me inside the Turret. The air was clammy and cold, lit only by a few torches. The Turret itself spiraled up revealing several chambers with heavy set bars in them. The guards paid this no mind and, instead, stepped forward toward a gaping hole in the ground with a strange wooden contraption hung over it. The ropes which held it aloft creaked as did the wood. There was an obvious smell of damp wood and the threat of mildew and rot.

“This is the Lock. You always need to make sure you close this gate around the platform before activating the Lock. To activate, pull this lever and the weights will drop or raise. Understood? Good. Moving on.” Neither of the guards gave me time to respond as they hastened their pace. I had to jog to keep up with the quickness of their steps, their leather armor creaking as they walked around the mechanism and continued to explain how I was to use it.

They opened the gate and stepped on without hesitation. I followed, nearly slipping on the slick wooden surface beneath me. They both snickered and threw the lever, plunging us down faster than I would’ve fallen. A scream filled my throat but came out only as a faint whistle before they threw the lever again, making me stumble. They chuckled again.

“You’re going to have a hard time of it if something like this frightens you,” said Izett as she stepped off of the platform.

“Yes Ser,” I muttered. They opened another large wooden door on the platform we stopped at, revealing the storeroom. Unlike most pantries with elements hanging like fruits and vegetables, cheeses and breads, everything resided in large barrels that came up to my waist. I dared to think that if I needed to I could probably fit inside one of them.

“This is the storeroom. You need to pick up five barrels here and two there. The two here are water and these here are assorted food stuffs. It doesn’t really matter which of these you pick. Just grab five and two. This is to be done twice a day. Understand?” asked Izett.

“I understand,” I said briskly. Five? Five barrels? My heart sank into the pit forming in my stomach. One barrel would easily tide a family off for a week if rationed properly. Five? Twice a day? Izett’s hand suddenly clasped my shoulder. Perhaps she knew I was feeling overwhelmed. Perhaps she saw the panic forming in my eyes. Whatever the case, what she said next didn’t sooth my quickly fraying nerves.

“You know,” she started slowly with a mischievous grin. “They’re bigger than you think. The Orion I mean. One hand could cover you from head to toe and no one would know where you’d gone.” I felt my shoulders shudder involuntarily at the words.

“Did you hear?” chimed in the male guard. “What happened to the last Factotum? Tripped and fell. It takes a second to get down to the bottom where the chains are; if you make it to the ground I mean. Orion are quicker than you think.”

So many times, I had heard of the Orion. I heard of their mannerisms and their civilization. I heard of their I heard of their immense size dwarfing towns and hearing it from them, now, was inconvenient and purposefully cruel. I needed this position. I kept telling myself who I was doing it for even as my shoulders gave away my fear.

“Don’t worry. As long as you don’t get too close to the edge, you’ll be alright,” grinned Izett, who proceeded to explain the remaining procedures including how the balances worked for the Lock and how to load the beams on the platform so it would not become unbalanced. Everything was explained so very quickly that I was hardly sure I would be able to retain it. All the while, they would mention things about the Orion known as Steele Veyne.

Steele evidently came many years ago and terrorized a few lands long the western coast, burning some of them to ash. He was tried and convicted, what it entailed I wasn’t sure, and sentenced to live out the end of his days below The Turret. The guards told me as they watched me struggle with the barrels that other Factotum of his didn’t stay long.

They said his behavior was like that of an animal, growling and grunting, raising his voice at the slightest provocation. They muttered among themselves as though I weren’t there, saying his voice was deeper than distant rolling thunder and twice as loud when he was trying to be quiet.

Finally, after I strained my arms and rolled over my toes twice with the barrels, it was time to descend the Lock to the lowest level. The weights were lifted, and we plummeted further and further into the darkness. The shaft was carved directly out of stone and narrowed as we descended. The rock was slick from where natural moisture gathered along the surface. The torch light gleamed against the rocks as though they were thousands of black, beady eyes.

The Lock came to a halt, sending my knotted stomach in a plummet and my heart in my throat. Every part of me tingled with a nervousness I hadn’t felt in years. It was an anticipation. A nervous anticipation. The two guards ushered me off of the platform, making no effort to assist with the barrels, and brought me to a metal door.

“Now, it’s very important you don’t go beyond the line. You can roll the barrels beyond the line, but do not cross it. Do you understand?” asked the male guard.

“Yes ser,” I mumbled as I stared at the barred door in front of me.

“Gervis, we can’t forget to tell her the most important thing,” reminded Izett.

“Right,” acknowledged Gervis, the male guard who failed to identify himself. “The most important thing is to not let him hear you. If he hears you, he will be angry.”

“Furious,” Izett chimed in.

“Inconsolably agitated. It is imperative you keep away from the line and do not make a single sound. Do you understand?”

“Yes ser,” I breathed. My skin tingled like I was a personal pin cushion for their teases and taunts, every jab and statement setting my nerves trembling. I could hardly breathe. The ache in my muscles from managing the hefty barrels was already going to be a challenge; however not as much as getting them into the room without a sound.

Trying to adhere to words I spoke to my daughter about keeping calm, I took one more calming breath, which irritated the nauseous spell in my gut, and let the guards pull the door open.

The chamber was completely dark except for two large cauldrons of flaming oil left hanging above a chasm of darkness. The ceiling stood many meters above my head, but it was the darkness below the rocky platform I was ushered onto that held my attention. It was against the wall, which was its only saving grace, but the edge was a sheer drop into the unknown.

There were no bars in the darkness below that I could see, but I could hear something faint that sounded like the rattling of chains; heavy chains. I didn’t need to see to know something was in that dreaded darkness that was immense. There was something rhythmic like the rolling of tide water against stone along the seaside. It wasn’t until I stepped into the chamber that I understood what it was – breathing.

I swallowed dryly and, with extreme caution, began rolling the barrels to the indicated spot Izett and Gervis told me about. I passed by what looked like additional platforms that descended into the darkness and continued further into the chamber. The length of each breath seemed to indicate that Steele was asleep. Perhaps this venture would go unnoticed.

The first and second went without incident. The third creaked only once, but the fourth made up for it. The final barrel was almost in place when I heard a sound that made me leap out of my skin and let out a yelp of surprise. The sound was the slamming of a door – a metal door. The thunderous clang of the hinges locking into place told me only one thing – they had closed and locked the door behind me.

There was an instant where the rattling stopped as did the breath. I held back every ounce of terror welling up inside me like a guizer preparing to burst. I clasped my hands over my mouth as if that would somehow keep the sound from erupting from my lungs. Every beat of my heart sent an terrible clenching ache through my veins. My mind raced but produced no thoughts. The air seemed to thicken with the damp moisture just as another sound rang out.

“STEELE! GET UP! YOUR BREAKFAST AWAITS!” The guards – those two wretched guards – were shouting through the small, barred hole in the door. The cauldrons of fire suddenly tilted as the sound of the chains in the darkness rattled. I dared not approach the door. I dared not move. I simply watched with my heart and scream in my throat as streams of fiery oil poured into several basins and began lighting the entire chamber. In the dim firelight which slowly trickled through the rest of the chamber, I could see him – the Orion.

I could only see his frame at first as I pressed myself against the rocks of the ledge. The guards had not lied to me. He was everything they said he was. Easily consuming a large portion of the chamber, his form lay on the ground, curled up into a kind of sleeping position. Hair which fell in his face came right to his shoulders if I could see correctly. There were elements of blonde, or dark blond rather, with fragments of silver lining where his ears were. There were years of smudge and grime caked into the beard on his face.

None of these things though were as terrifying as when his eyes flickered open, revealing two lightly colored violet orbs. They blinked once. Twice. Everything about him tensed as those eyes glanced to the platform where I had placed the barrels; and then to me. His entire body tensed, poised and ready to react.

Every impulse became second nature in an instant and seized control of my body. I turned and bolted toward the door, the sound of chains scraping the ground and a deep, ragged exhalation rumbled in his chest. I grasped at the bars on the small window, seeing only the giddy faces of the guards grinning sinisterly back at me. They were laughing, but I couldn’t hear it. I could only hear the primal growl that shook the very walls of the cavernous room I was now trapped in.

Tears pricked the sides of my eyes as I fumbled with the door. Yes. I was locked in. I was locked in a room with an Ordin.

“Trjahaka itdyom! Minyhar eemonspur!” The language was harsh and intense, rattling me to my soul. The very depth of his voice was like that of crashing boulders in a storm, an avalanche come to life. I tried blocking it out, hands flying to cover my ears. In that instant, the scream I tried desperately to hold back escaped and, not wanting the guards to have the satisfaction of seeing my fear, I turned away from the door and collapsed to my knees.

The chains rattled again and merely kneeling, was already almost eye-level with the platform. Was I going to die? Was all of this a trap set forth by Caster? The thought of being mangled or worse by this being was too much. A warm track of tears streaked down my face as I shuddered and shook, huddled in the corner like an animal knowing its fate to be slaughtered. Steele advanced. “Kevine! Doshti nool itsol qaathn…”

Steele was suddenly cut short by a harsh gagging sound. I glanced just over my shoulder, not sure if my heart could take any more by the way it pounded and pumped nothing but air into my veins. I was safe. A thick collar around his neck and chains against his wrists kept him from advancing and reaching me. The closest he could get, which I could now see, was the extended platform where the barrels were still set perfectly.

Our eyes met and, for the life of me, I could not bring myself to look away from those violet eyes lined with crows’ feet and a thoughtful brow.

The sound of howling laughter now filled my ears as the lock on the door was tossed to the side.

“Sorry about that Factotum, but we couldn’t have you come in without initiation,” grinned Gervis who stepped boldly into the chamber, freely meeting Steele’s eyes. “Don’t worry. He can’t get any closer than to barely reach his meals. Isn’t that right?” The Orion’s eyes narrowed in a seething hatred I knew once many years ago.

“Come along now Factotum. We have other things to show you about this place. Let the beast eat in peace,” grinned Izett as she did the only courteous thing she could and helped me to my feet. I shook like a fragmented leaf in a monstrous gale. If I had anything to eat, it would be making a second appearance. Fortunately, the only thing that happened was a few nervous coughs and the burning acidic taste in the back of my throat.

The low light kept the two young guards from seeing the glossy tears now streaming down my face. What a cruel start. What a miserable post. I could now see why others left the position in haste, not only for the Orion, but also for the treatment of the guards. Still, I needed this post. I needed to take care of my daughter. I shoved my feelings aside, knowing full well that afternoon I would weep into my cot of straw before returning later that night to my post as the Orion’s Factotum.

~~~~~

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[lakesbian]

oh to be clear i am fully aware the 'growing and putting effort into it' thing is unconscious i just got tired of specifying that in parentheses in literally every alec essay i make because i presumed we were all on the same page about it by now.

i do think he at times consciously tries to make choices for the sake of other people--"I dunno if I care all that much, but it’s the sort of thing I’ll do because it feels like I should" is something he outright says in his interlude. (comically absurd that he views what he's doing to sophia as a favor to taylor. he's really out there going 'augh this is so BORING' shuffling through her phone having a Lame Unfun Time committing horrible atrocities and doing it anyway because he thinks it's nicey to taylor.) it's something i can imagine him saying to himself over showing up to an endbringer fight, or letting himself be dragged along into a totally-not-heroic quest by taylor, or literally just picking up muffins for the team even though he's chronically depressed lazy and doesn't feel like it. as much as he's not consciously viewing it as growth, i do think he genuinely semi-consciously tries to emulate what a person closer to normal would do in various circumstances, even when it clashes with what he would rather be doing (mainly relaxing at home with pizza and video games instead of risking his neck for a bunch of random people).

but i digress: the crucial difference is that amy sees herself as some form of fated to be Evil™, whereas while alec does feel sort of unfixably fucked up, he is capable of grasping cause and effect (e.g "i participated in heartbroken-typical sexual violence because i was a kid being groomed, my low/no empathy might be because of my dad") vs viewing it as an immutable state of his being that he was always doomed to fulfil. like, he knows he's fucked up, but he grasps that it's because Shitty Things Happened, not because "my dad is a villain so i too am tragically fated to become a villain."

furthermore, it's worth remembering that he was literally turning out exactly like how his dad wanted before he ran away--he murdered, he raped, and he did it all with a perfectly straight face like a good little emotionally repressed mini-heartbreaker. the fact that he chose to run away, that he reaches a point where he's genuinely offended when taylor insinuates that he might want to turn out like his dad or that he might be using his power on aisha without her consent, means that on some level, he inherently recognizes that he can grow and improve. sure, it's by the lowest bar on the planet, but he does inherently recognize that he's improved (ergo is capable of improving) and is legitimately hurt by insinuations otherwise! he doesn't consciously recognize how strong his desire to grow is or the ways in which he's continuously improving, but he's absolutely not locking himself into a spiraling mentality where his life is ruled by the idea that he's inherently doomed to suck! it's a far cry from amy's mindset regarding her own potential for self-improvement.

(& the awareness of cause and effect in his own life--being able to pick out "this was when something wasn't reasonably my fault" vs "this is when something was my fault and i did it because i wanted to" is a surprisingly functional tiny first step towards being able to take accountability without being irrationally self-deprecating to the point of it inhibiting his ability to grow. it's a strong contrast to how amy oscillates btwn "this is xyz's fault and zero amount my fault i am so pitiablepathetic" and "EVERYTHING has been my fault EVER and i am the SCUM OF THE EARTH.")

alright this one is getting its own post instead of a reblog on a post that is Entirely Not About That. presenting the 'what if we put amy and alec in a room together' manifesto because the thing is that it is interesting but not in the way amy/alec shippers think

Amy shook her head, talking over her, “She’s always been emotional, passionate, unrestrained, and she’s channeling all this new emotion into hate, because it’s the closest equivalent.” “New emotion?” Regent asked.  “You mean you mindraped her.” Amy looked like she’d been slapped across the face.  I wasn’t surprised, but hearing it said out loud was unsettling.

“Nice,” Regent said.  “She could be a human-spider hybrid.  Add some insult to injury with the mindrape thing.” I could see Amy tense.

it is relevant to his character that he's the first person to cut through amy's euphemisms (and everyone else's avoidance of saying the unsettling part out loud) and outright say "you mindraped her." he calls the euphemistic language out and then intentionally repeats it a second time for no other reason than to bug her about it. it's vaguely reminiscent of something he says to sophia during his interlude:

���You and I are more alike than you’d suspect, I think,” he said. “We’re both arrogant assholes, yeah?  Difference is, I admit it, I don’t dress it up and tell myself that I’m a bitch and that that’s a good thing.”  He burned Emma’s face out of another photo.

he has a repeated habit of making people uncomfortable by calling something out for exactly what it is, whether it be "yeah sure cape groupies, my dad's girls, people i used my power on towards the end" or "you mean you mindraped her." he's desensitized enough to really all forms of violence to be unbothered by committing or witnessing them, but he seems to harbor a genuine pet peeve for people who obscure or unreasonably justify what they're actually doing. as uncomfortable as he can make taylor, it's often not that he's doing things worse than the other undersiders, but that he's the person most willing to openly admit what he's doing--or to pettily call out what someone else is doing.

i think it more or less boils down to the fact that he's never gotten to be the person on the peripherals of violence making up neat and tidy ways to talk about it: he spent his entire childhood being hurt in every way imaginable & being coerced into doing the same to others. i think it left him with a sort of genuine distaste for being expected to talk in circles around the viscerally awful things he had done to him or did to others, and subsequently, for people who have done similar things but can't fucking fess up to the reality of it. it's like he's been walking around his entire life just absolutely drenched in blood, witnessing so much else get covered in it, and he's starting to get legitimately bothered over people standing around twiddling their thumbs and pretending it's red paint. he knows it's blood. he's been tasting it since he was 6. he would really like if everyone else could also grow up and admit it's fucking blood.

it's always funny to me that amy/alec shipping is, like, a Thing--a niche thing, but a Thing, because i could not think of a rapist more hand-crafted to piss amy dallon off than alec vasil. he cannot go Three seconds in her presence without going "oh you raped her? you mean you raped her? with your mind? like she doesn't just have new feelings you specifically mean you mindraped her?"

she, on some level, views herself as someone who did harm because she's irrevocably, ontologically evil, and is sort of desperately obsessed with minimalizing or half-justifying her actions to herself so that she can avoid recognizing that she feels like she can't be better. she's clinging to the idea that she can be "redeemed" if she does something of equal measure in the opposite direction (e.g 'spending the rest of her life healing people' as she mentions), but because she can't even directly acknowledge how bad her actions actually were without crumbling under the weight of the idea that she's doomed to be that bad, she's fundamentally incapable of looking directly at what she did at this point in the story.

alec, on the other hand, is really fucking upfront and fairly objective about his actions--he never ties them into some Inarguable Truth About His Soul, and he's pretty honest about whether or not he thinks they're justifiable. in 14.1, he has this dialogue with cherie:

“When daddy had you practicing your powers, you ‘hijacked’ a few people at a time, used their bodies to get high with no consequences for you, you threw orgies for yourself…” “Again.  I was a kid.”

but despite the fact that sophia is, on some level, justified in his mind by his "eye for an eye, this is a favor for taylor" rhetoric--he's fine with admitting that he's also just doing it because, yeah, he's an arrogant asshole and he feels like it. some of it was because he was a kid being groomed, and some of it was because He Felt Like It.*

*sure, he only Felt Like It because he has a comically large cocktail of unpacked psychological issues--but he doesn't know that, he just knows he felt like it.

in other words, he doesn't subscribe to the idea that any of his actions are, like, Ontologically Predetermined By His Inner Being or even necessarily all related. he's like the fuckin' "might do it again, prolly not" dude from the sex offender shuffle. okay, sorry for saying that in my seriouspost. but his philosophies would clash hilariously badly with amy--he insists on accepting his own & others actions for exactly what they are, he's generally very invested in not being his father (being asked if he intends to turn out like his dad is one of the only times something briefly upsets him), and he's actually doing pretty okay at that. he's like...shockingly well-adjusted given the circumstances. his entire arc is more or less a slow upward climb.

i think having to be around someone who both believes and would outright admit "yeah i raped people, no i dunno if i feel that bad, no i'm not raking myself over the coals for it, yeah some of it was because i was a kid, yeah some of the other stuff wasn't, no i'm not Predestined To Suck," would like. clash with her beliefs abt 'ontologically evil' being a real thing, abt punishment as justice, etc. in a way that would really bother her. she spends a lot of her time in her head trying to twist things around until they feel salvageable to her, but alec is 0 amount concerned with rationalizing to make him feel alright--he just does things, some bad, most shitty attempt to put tastebuds on his asshole.

it's, funnily enough, far more functional for improving than what amy has going on--he operates on material actions as opposed to her Self-Flagellating Thought Labyrinths, and the fact that he's busier moving on from things he can't materially change than he is kicking himself in the face means he can actually achieve some form of progress towards more functional approaches wrt human interaction. i think if amy had an extended conversation w/ him about the subject, she'd both be disgusted with him for not thinking thoughtcrime is real and deeply resentful that this fellow ontologically evil villain is doing better at moving forwards as a person than her despite not 24/7 flagellating himself + yearning for "redemption" like she is. it'd throw a disturbingly large wrench in her worldview, and she would not be happy about it.

oh, and alec would think she's weird and mopey and dumb and annoying and "why do it if you can't even admit it." and he would probably tell her as much. which is the point where i unlock the door to the room so alec can sprint out to escape amy's attempt to put tastebuds on his asshole.

[dinosaurtsukki]

-birthdays and matching glasses

pairing: chuuya nakahara x f!reader

word count: 1.8k words

contains: friends to lovers dynamic, soft!chuuya, idk literally just soft fluffy brainrot

a/n: it’s chuuya brainrot hours. that’s all.

chuuya never really had a birthday, or at least, he didn’t exactly knew when it was with him being the arahabaki and all. at first, he didn’t really care about not having one and neither did his fellow Sheep members until you came along.

“what? no birthday? that can’t be.”

“it’s no big deal,” chuuya shrugged but he knew then and there that you wouldn’t be able to let that go. 

“hmm, how about this? what’s the earliest date you remember?” 

chuuya didn’t even need to try hard to remember. they were his first real memories, after all. “it was april, the twenty-nineth. i saw it on a newspaper.”

“alright! from then on, we’ll be celebrating your birthday on april twenty-nine!” you declared. even then, chuuya couldn’t help but feel that your smile and energy was infectious.

his first birthday, his fourteenth one, wasn’t as eventful as chuuya knew birthdays were. everyone in the Sheep, or at least, those who were slightly older, drank booze after dinner, which they always did when chuuya was able to steal some. the only one who gave him a gift was shirase, it was a pack of cigarettes, which wasn’t much either since he always did that.

after the rest of the Sheep was asleep, chuuya climbed to sit on the roof of their abandoned hideout to enjoy his birthday gift by himself. he sat there by himself for a good few minutes, smoking his cigarette, when you popped up over the roof’s edge.

“i keep telling you to quit that,” you pouted.

“can’t a guy enjoy a smoke on his birthday?” he smirked. “where were you by the way?”

“getting a surprise ready! now close your eyes!’“ 

“surprise?”

“close it!”

“fine,” chuuya rolled his eyes, giving into your request. he heard a slight rustle and the sound of your footsteps approach, and then the strike of a match.

“okay, open!”

chuuya opened his eyes to find you crouched in front of him with a cupcake in your hand. on top of the cupcake was a single candle. “happy birthday chuuya!” you sang softly.

‘now, this is a birthday gift,’ chuuya smiled softly, eyes trailing over to the proud look on your face to the cupcake in your hand before blowing out the candle. 

chuuya had always thought that birthdays were childish and that included birthday wishes. but, for just one moment, he let himself be a kid and made a wish for more birthdays like this.

...

the meeting you were in was taking forever to finish and yet, it felt as if the wall clock was quicker than usual. ‘shit, one a.m.,’ you cursed, glancing at the clock for what was probably the fortieth time that night. you prayed that the party wasn’t done yet and that the presenter was going to wrap up his lecture quickly. of course, since you were their boss, the head of yokohama’s main shipping company and part-time mafia executive to be precise, you couldn’t exactly just leave. 

suddenly, the sound of people clapping jolted you out of your thoughts and you looked up to find that the presentation had finally ended. “excellent work,” you cleared your throat. “now, i guess that wraps things up for the day.”

“oh, what about questions?” the presenter asked. 

“if anyone has questions, please forward them to kouhiro-san himself,” you quickly answered before standing up and gathering your things as a signal for everyone in the meeting room to do the same.

after a quick stop to the office to get chuuya’s birthday present and reapply your lipgloss, you briskly headed downstairs to where your car was already parked in front of the building. 

“nakahara’s place, right?” your driver clarified before pulling out of the building. you felt your cheeks burn slightly at the fact that he quickly took the hint but nodded nonetheless.

...

“thanks for coming guys. get home safe, alright?” chuuya grinned, waving a hand at his subordinates and acquaintances as they left the building to go home. “we still have work tomorrow, don’t forget!” he yelled after them. despite his reputation of being a powerful mafia executive, chuuya wasn’t a terrible boss towards his subordinates. in fact, he prided himself in being one of the good ones. so what if it was weird for him to invite them to his birthday party? they could always use a drink and a good time.

with a sigh, he gazed at the dishes in the sink and empty glasses around his apartment. as much as it irked him to leave it in such a state, chuuya was quite tired from the party and wanted nothing more than to go to bed. except, he found himself getting started on the dishes anyway. 

after all, there was one invited guest who had yet to come by.

at the sound of the doorbell, chuuya practically flew to answer the door. he opened it to find you, wearing your usual office attire that was nonetheless quite fashionable, with a sheepish smile on your face.

“did i miss the party?”

chuuya knew that there were a lot of things he could say, like ‘thanks for coming by’ or ‘i’m glad you came by anyway. instead, he ended up saying “shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

“i’m not five, chuuya,” you rolled your eyes, walking past him into the now-empty apartment. 

“the meeting took that long, huh?” chuuya said, walking past you towards the bar. “i’m not sure i have any clean glasses left so...” he paused when you placed a giftwrapped box on the table.

“maybe you won’t need to wash some yet,” you smiled. 

“oh yeah?” chuuya smirked, trying to hide the soft expression on his face at the fact that you gave him a birthday gift. actually, you never missed giving him a birthday gift. not since he was fourteen. he unwrapped the gift slowly and carefully and found a wooden box. chuuya opened it to find that the interior was lined with velvet and two, matching glasses were inside.

“figured that everyone was going to gift you alcohol so i thought, maybe something to put the alcohol in?” you said. “do you... like it?”

“they look amazing, y/n. thank you,” chuuya smiled at you, carefully taking them out and placing them on the counter. he found that the very bottom of the glasses had a lotus flower carved into them. they must have been custom-made.

“i’m assuming that you got me two of these for us to drink from when you come over,” he smirked at you before placing a ball of ice in each glass and topping them off with his favorite whiskey.

“that is, when we have time to get together for a drink,” you sighed, picking your glass up and raising it for a toast. “to hopefully having more time to hang out?”

“to hopefully having more time to hang out,” chuuya echoed, clinking his glass against yours. 

after he was betrayed by the Sheep, you and chuuya joined the port mafia together but ended up going slightly different ways. while chuuya decided to work full-time as an executive, you volunteered to take over managing the trade deals that the port mafia had with other organizations by taking over yokohoma’s main shipping company. you still held a good position in the mafia as a part-time executive but other than the occasional meeting, you rarely ever saw your old friend.

not that you still saw him as just a friend. 

it was quite odd, the fact that your feelings for him grew even more now that you rarely saw each other. absence makes the heart grow fonder or something like that. as much as you found it hard to grapple with your own feelings, you still accepted him wholeheartedly. it made sense. you couldn’t imagine a time in your life when chuuya wasn’t there and seeing him now, the best fighter in the port mafia, an executive to top that, and, someone who was strong in his ideas, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t fallen in love with him already.

...

chuuya wanted nothing more than for you to stay longer. ever since he figured out that his feelings for you were more than just affection for the longest friend he’s had, chuuya had begun to make a mental count of how long it had been since he last saw you. the longest was probably a month and he clearly remembered that he was more prone to bursts of anger during that period.

and now, you were sharing a drink with him on his birthday. chuuya had drunk a lot throughout the night but his senses were sharper than ever. he could see your cheeks developing a warmer tint, the marks on the side of your glass from your lip gloss, and how you were leaning more and more against the counter. how you looked now was so far from the young, Sheep girl dressed in an oversized coat. but some things didn’t change. like the fact that you still made time to see him on his birthday.

“i’ll walk you downstairs,” chuuya offered his arm for you to lean on after you two had your last drink.

“good, cause i am not seeing straight,” you chuckled, looping your arm around his as you made your way out of the penthouse, into the elevator, and down to the lowest floor. 

“well, happy birthday, chuuya,” you smiled as you two entered the downstairs lobby. chuuya slowed his pace, not wanting the night to end yet.

“you’re forgetting something,” he said, stopping in the hallway.

“huh? what?” you looked at him puzzled before realization dawned. “aww, you love it when i do that, don’t you?”

“n-no! just, thought, consistency, you know?” chuuya stammered. 

“okay, okay you big softie,” you laughed before closing your eyes. “happy birthday chuuya,” you sang. 

chuuya smiled softly, watching you sing to him. this was undoubtedly his favorite part about his birthday. ‘it’s now or never,’ he thought, inhaling sharply and leaning forward to kiss you on the forehead while your eyes were still closed.

your eyes flew open as you looked up at chuuya in surprise who was now glancing at the side and looking very much flustered. “i... that was... part of my wish,” he stammered.

‘oh,’ you thought, realization dawning on you before you broke out into a smile. chuuya liked you back.

“is that your only wish?” you asked. chuuya looked at you, eyes wide as he mentally connected the dots behind what you were implying.

“well, there is one more thing.”

“i can’t deny the birthday boy his wish now, can i?” you giggled. leaning close, you kissed him gently on the lips. once, twice, then on the third, you felt chuuya wrap his arms around you and pull you even closer to deepen the kiss. his eyes fluttered shut, relishing the feeling of your lips against his, and he knew that no birthday present could ever top this. 

***********************************************

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @tpwkatsumu @laure-chan​

[bi-naesala]

A way to relax

Fandom: Yakuza Rating: T Warnings: / Relationships: Han Joon-gi/Zhao Tianyou Characters: Han Joon-gi, Zhao Tianyou, Kim Yeonsu Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Intimacy, Hair Washing Summary:

Zhao's stressed, and not just a little. Luckily for him, Han knows exactly what to do to help.

(Also on AO3)

From the moment that he’s stepped back into the apartment, Han could tell immediately that there’s something wrong with Zhao, even when the other’s still keeping his usual façade.

At first he decides to let him alone for a while, let him work through his bad mood on his own, but as dinner time approaches it’s obvious that, whatever got Zhao like this, it’s not going to disappear just by waiting for time to pass.

He has to do something.

He finds Zhao in the small living room, plopped down on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, and a deep frown on his face. It seems that he hasn’t moved at all since the last time Han has seen him.

In another occasion, he would’ve joked about the fact that he looks like a statue, but he has the feeling that he would just worsen the situation if he does, so he keeps quiet.

What he does, instead, is sitting beside Zhao. Usually, as soon as he’d do that, Zhao would be all over him, and not necessarily for something… spicy, but even just to lean on him. This time, though, he remains still, almost like he hadn’t seen him…

Not knowing what he should say, Han decides to make a great show of clearing his throat. He has the confirmation that Zhao mustn’t have noticed him because he gets startled.

“Who the-- Ah! Fucking hell dude, you scared me,” he says in fact, finally looking at Han.

“I apologize, but you seemed to be lost in your thoughts…” Han observes, making Zhao scoff.

“So? You could’ve patted my shoulder or whatever.”

 This is going nowhere, Han thinks, but before he can say or do anything about it, Zhao sighs.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be mad at you…” he mutters. An opening.

“It’s alright, though I am curious as to what has gotten you in such a bad mood,” Han replies.

At those words, Zhao slumps into the couch even more than he already was. “Seong-hui didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“About the problems with my boys… Well, former boys I guess…”

Han shakes his head, which brings forth the umpteenth sigh from Zhao.

“Figures…” he mutters, more to himself than to Han however. “Maybe she thinks if I get involved instead of you, they’ll listen…”

It’s then that he realizes that this was a two-way conversation, and finally deigns Han of an explanation. “Some former Liumang aren’t too happy about the merge. They keep making impossible demands to Seong-hui, and then get mad when she refuses.”

“Do you think they’re preparing a rebellion?” Han asks, frowning. This could be bad.

Zhao shakes his head. “Nah. I mean, they’ll probably try something, but they’re too stupid not to get detected, or to actually get it done in the first place,” he says.

 There’s a moment of silence in which Han ponders about Zhao’s words.

A Liumang rebellion? Well, it was obvious that not everyone was going to accept the merge of Liumang and Geomijul, but to try anything while both their numbers are at their lowest feels like too much…

Should Han have to get involved directly? Crack open a few skulls and show these people that you don’t fuck with them?

 Before he can reach a conclusion, however, he hears Zhao chuckle, but it’s a bitter laugh.

“It’s not like they even want me back. I know these are the motherfuckers who are regretting not skipping town with Mabuchi,” he says.

“What makes you say that with such certainty?”

Zhao looks at him, and Han can hear him even though he’s not uttering a word. He’s asking him if he’s fucking dumb.

“C’mon, Han-chan, you don’t have to sugarcoat it. I was a bad leader, of course they wouldn’t want me.”

Han wants to reply that it’s not true, that just because he didn’t want to do it it didn’t mean that he did a bad job, but he knows that his words would fall into deaf ears. Besides, from the way Zhao’s sulking, it’s obvious that he wants to drop the subject and not talk about it possibly ever again - but they’ll have to, eventually - so he decides not to add anything, since he doesn’t want to have a fight.

 Still, he feels he has to do something, anything that could help him relax… Yes, that’s it! Zhao needs something relaxing that will help him forget this bad mood of his.

Han would offer to make dinner so that Zhao doesn’t have to - he’s always the one cooking - if only he wasn’t so bad in the kitchen. Truly, he’s only good at cutting vegetables.

A massage sounds good, or… Well, there is something else that Zhao loves indulging in from time to time.

 Han gets up, having decided what he’s going to do: he’s going to prepare him a bath.

  As he walks to the bathroom, he can’t help but to smile at the thought that, finally, neither of them have to stick to a certain schedule when it comes to stay clean, like they had to do when they were living at Survive Bar. Another advantage of sharing a flat with just the two of them.

Being alone still feels like a novelty, since it hasn’t been long since they’ve acquired this flat, shared primarily because rent is cheaper if it’s divided, and definitely not because of their need for privacy. Lots of love to everybody in their motley crew of misfits, but sometimes they’re a bit too… suffocating.

 Besides, it’s easier to let their guard down when it’s just the two of them, which is still quite hard, but they’re getting better at it. Some things just simply require a lot of work put into them.

  The bathtub is small, barely enough for one person, and definitely too small for two - they know it, they’ve tried it, and almost got stuck in the process.

It’s good enough: after all, this is for Zhao, not for him, except that it’s hard to shake what is practically a lifetime of serving people off so easily. Han wants to be good to Zhao, wants to please him, and in turn he’ll be pleased as well.

So maybe he would’ve liked to partake in what he’s preparing for Zhao… but for now it’ll do like this. Maybe once they get enough money to buy a bigger tub…

 He’ll think about that when - and if - the time comes. He shouldn’t get distracted.

He opens the waterflow and, as the bathtub begins to get filled, he rummages through the cabinets to find what he’s looking for… ah, there they are, the bath salts Zhao has bought last week!

Luckily, there’s still something left for this bath. Usually Zhao uses them for long relaxing baths, during which he also happens to smoke some weed - he says it enhances the feeling, though Han, not having tried it, can’t confirm nor deny the truth of this statement.

There are some instructions on the salts’ box about how much should be poured per gallon of water, but Han knows for a fact that Zhao doesn’t follow them, so he won’t either and pours the entirety of the box’s content inside the bathtub, since there was little enough for it not to be excessive. He hopes that Zhao won’t get mad at him for finishing the salts, but if he does he’ll offer to go buy them as soon as they’re done.

Soon a delicate smell of lavender begins spreading through the air. Han can see why Zhao’s so inclined towards these particular salts: even just the smell is relaxing.

Will it be enough though? Only one way to find out…

 Once the tub’s filled to an acceptable degree, Han turns off the tap and goes to find Zhao who, as he expected, is still on the couch, but at least this time he’s more present, because as Han approaches him, he looks up at him, sending him an interrogative gaze.

“I prepared you a bath,” Han says, without the need of mincing words.

Zhao clicks his tongue. “Didn’t figure you were my fucking servant, Han-chan”.

Despite wanting to roll his eyes at those words, Han doesn’t give Zhao the satisfaction of a reaction; if he wants an excuse to fight, he’ll have to look elsewhere.

What he does instead is grabbing Zhao by the hands and dragging him - or more like guiding him, since after the first few steps Zhao doesn’t oppose any more resistance - to the bathroom.

“You’ll love it,” he says then, trying encourage him to go along with this.

“Promises promises…” Zhao mutters in reply, and there’s a faint shadow of a smile on his lips that makes Han hopeful that yes, he will indeed love it.

 As soon as they step inside the bathroom, Zhao immediately catches the lavender smell, then he raises an eyebrow at Han.

“You got my salts?” he asks, and now the previous shadow of a smile has become more evident on his face.

“I might have, yes,” Han replies, curling his lips up as well, before gently taking Zhao’s glasses off and setting them over the sink. “Come on, now, strip.”

“So forceful, Han-chan~ What are you gonna do to me?” Zhao teases him, but he does as he said. Han could pretend not to be eating him with his eyes as he does it, but he doesn’t feel like lying at the moment. Still, he looks away as soon as Zhao turns his attention back to him, even though he’s pretty sure Zhao knows that, for a moment, he was having his undivided attention.

“Can I go in now? Or do you need to order me around some more?” Zhao jokes. The fact that he’s letting himself go to such levity is already a good sign.

“By all means,” Han replies, keeping his response in line with what Zhao’s said.

 Once he gets in, he gets quiet, sinking until his face is barely below the water as he closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation.

He’s always like this every time Han tires to do something romantic for him: at first he acts like he doesn’t want it, but once it happens, he greatly enjoys it. When he acts like this, it reminds Han of a cat.

“Oh yeah, that’s the stuff,” he groans, rising a bit from where he was sinking. “Really needed that.”

“I figured,” Han replies, matter-of-factly, as he gets behind Zhao, sitting on the tub’s edge. It isn’t very comfortable, but it’s the best Han can get at the moment; it’s fine, he’s had worse.

He silently gathers some water in his hands and uses it to get Zhao’s hair wet, making it quite obvious to the other what he wants to do.

“You don’t have to,” he tries to protest then, but it’s a weak attempt at best and they both know it.

“Let me do this for you,” Han insists, and this time Zhao doesn’t do anything at all, giving in entirely.

 Zhao’s hair routine isn’t that different from Han’s, though Han’s more than willing to go the extra steps needed to make his hair truly perfect, while Zhao’s more laid back about this kind of stuff - sure, appearance is important, but it’s also such a bother!

He gets Zhao’s shampoo - minty fresh - and pours some on his hands, then he begins to massage Zhao’s scalp, even going as far as to use some light scratches in places where he knows it’ll make Zhao melt - again, the image of a cat comes back to Han’s mind.

The more he keeps going, the more Zhao relaxes under his ministrations, sinking further and further inside the bathtub, to the point that Han has to softly ask him not to lower himself so much.

“Sorry,” Zhao mutters, barely able to stifle a yawn while he does so. He sounds tired - Han knows he must be - but at least he also sounds less stressed than he was before, so Han considers his mission as complete.

 Time passes. Neither of them try to feel the void of the silence that is stretching out second by second.

They never thought they’d get to have this, and even less having someone to share this with, this kind of domesticity that people like them - people who belong to the underworld of society - shouldn’t get to live through, but here they are.

One could ask themselves if they deserve this, or if it should be this good since they’re supposed to be hardened criminals, but neither Zhao nor Han are very passionate about philosophy, so they just take this small moment of intimacy that they’ve gotten to share with each other, they accept the occasion that has been given them.

 “You know… These salts really do smell good.”

Han has never been one for small talk, but during moments like this, it comes natural in a way that, if he thinks about it too hard, scares him.

Zhao’s chuckle, thankfully, is enough to distract him. “They do, don’t they? You should try it.”

“Perhaps next time…” Han concedes. He’s not one for this kind of stuff, but he’d lie if he said that the idea of trying it at least once doesn’t appeal to him…

“I’ll also give you the best massage you’ve ever had.”

… And if Zhao’s there too, then it’s even better.

 Even after he’s done washing Zhao’s hair, Han still keeps massaging his scalp, letting his fingers through the soft locks - they’re always oh so soft - and even untying some knots that had formed in the meantime.

“You’d be a great hairdresser,” Zhao says at some point.

“You think?” Han asks, amused. He never really thinks about what he would’ve been hadn’t he gotten involved with the criminal world, but Zhao’s endearing enough that he’s willing to hear him out.

“Of course. Aren’t your hair always so great? And when you do mine, it always feels nicer and softer than it ever was,” Zhao continues, before chuckling. “You might even be able to fix Kasuga-kun’s hair…”

“I don’t know if I’m that good…” Han replies, serious at first, like he’s truly considering the idea, but soon both he and Zhao share a laugh, sure that Ichiban won’t mind if they make fun of him; it’s all in good spirit after all, and you don’t need a great haircut to be a great man.

“Since we’re talking jobs, I assume you’d choose cook?” Han asks then, going back to their previous subject.

“Think so,” Zhao replies. “Streamer would be fine, but I like cooking too much not to go with that.”

“Thank god for that,” Han says, making Zhao turn towards him, accusatory.

“Why? You think I’d be a shitty streamer? Wouldn’t I be entertaining enough?”

“It’s not that. I just really enjoy your cooking and I wouldn’t want to let it go.”

Zhao glares at Han for a moment, studying his face, but soon he turns back around. “Flatterer,” he mutters, but it’s obvious that he’s happy to hear that.

 “Anyway…” he says then. “Water’s starting to get cold. I should get out.”

Han nods, and finally he can get up, even though almost the entirety of his lower body is numb. He still manages to get Zhao his bathrobe, and to take the towel he left previously on the sink, which he uses to dry Zhao’s hair, while he puts the bathrobe on, trying to move as gently as possible.

This time, Zhao doesn’t even try to protest, which Han is grateful for, also because he hasn’t stopped before and he wasn’t going to do it now.

 Even though he needs to raise himself on his tiptoes in order to do it - just a bit though - he leans to give a kiss to Zhao’s forehead.

“Better?” he asks, then, still drying Zhao’s hair.

Zhao nods, sincerely, then he leans forwards, pressing his lips against Han’s in a chaste kiss.

“Thank you, and sorry for being an ass earlier,” he mutters.

Han smiles and shakes his head. “As long as you’re fine now…”

 They kiss again, and when they pull away it’s Zhao’s time to grab Han by the hands and take him somewhere, specifically to the kitchen, uncaring about his state of dressing, or lack of thereof.

“C’mon let me treat you to something special!”

“Something special? And what could that be?” Han asks. As if everything Zhao makes isn’t special already.

“It’s a surprise~” the other chuckles, and Han can’t help but to smile, seeing him like this.

This has to be his favorite version of Zhao, he finds himself thinking: as long as he’s happy, he’s happy as well.

[fireinmywoods]

You've mentioned before that Bones pretty much never calls Jim anything but "Jim." Do you think it's significant that at his birthday party, Bones has everyone toast to "Captain James T. Kirk," and not to "Jim"?

Well, he’s not “Jim” to all those folks, is he?

Sure, during informal downtime like this or a Meaningful Moment while on duty, one of the captain’s inner circle might occasionally call him by his given name - but Leonard knows at the party that he’s speaking to a room full of people who look at James Tiberius Kirk and see their captain first.

Oh, granted, he’s their much adored captain: the captain who traded his life for theirs, the captain they’d gladly follow into hell because he’s proven that he has what it takes to get them out the other side. Any one of the people in that room would jump in front of a phaser blast for him. (In fact, Uhura effectively did just that earlier in the movie.) They admire him; they trust him with their lives; they are fiercely devoted to him. They love him, each in their own way - the senior crew especially - and they know that he loves them in return.

But none of them love Jim the way Leonard does.

They couldn’t if they wanted to, because none of them know Jim like Leonard does. The crew has been through a whole hell of a lot with their revered captain, but Leonard is the one who’s seen him at his worst, at his weirdest, at his lowest and loneliest and most unguarded. He alone has scraped Jim off bar floors and put him to bed on the couch under his granny’s quilt to sleep it off and been awoken the next morning by the melodious sound of hangover puking in the head. He alone has stuck steadfastly by Jim’s side since the day he met the already disreputable bar brawler on the shuttle, took in the busted face and the bloodstained shirt and the small empty smile that didn’t reach those absurdly blue eyes, and decided they were two of a kind. He alone devoted himself to Jim long before that was a popular or even justifiable thing to do, before Jim had proven himself to Starfleet or his peers, before it became unmistakably clear that Jim Kirk was going to Be Somebody.

Leonard loves Jim in a different way than his fellow crew members do, shares a different kind of bond with him, and he’s a touch protective of that love and that bond. I wrote recently that Jim mostly refers to Leonard as Dr. McCoy to the rest of the crew because Bones isn’t really for anyone else. Well, the same holds true in the other direction. Leonard sees only Jim when he looks at him, always, no matter the situation, but he’s not necessarily eager to share him with the rest of the class. The crew can have Captain James T. Kirk, so long as Leonard never loses Jim.

+

Consider this: Jim’s birthday isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone on the Enterprise knows that Jim was born the same day as his father’s famously heroic sacrifice, the same day as an historic event they literally study at the Academy. Every idiot in Starfleet knows that date, at least in the abstract. But Leonard is the only one who understands Jim’s complex relationship with his father’s memory, because Leonard is the only one Jim’s ever been willing to open up to about it. So it’s Leonard who makes a point of acknowledging Jim’s birthday even though he knows from all their years of shared history that Jim would have him ignore it, and it’s Leonard to whom Jim ruminates on what it means for him to be turning 30, and it’s Leonard who says to him: “You spent all this time trying to be George Kirk, and now you’re wondering just what it means to be Jim.”

Leonard cares more than anyone else on the crew about Jim finding the answer to that question, because it’s always been Jim he’s concerned with first and foremost. He’d follow him anywhere - hell, death itself, or even (shudder) New Vulcan - not so much because he trusts him as a captain, but because he wants to be where Jim is. If Jim were to decide to leave the great Captain Kirk behind and instead take on the role of a vice-admiral or an Academy instructor or a goddamn pig farmer, Leonard would be right behind him, grumbling the whole way and death-glaring anyone who suggested he didn’t actually have to follow Jim’s lead if he was so aggrieved about it.

Not that that’s likely to happen any time soon. Jim is an outstanding starship captain: it’s a role perfectly suited to his strengths and passions, and (outside of the odd existential crisis) it’s deeply fulfilling and gives him both the community and the sense of purpose he’s been chasing his whole life. Leonard understands that even better than Jim does; thus the party. But at the end of the day, captaincy is only a role, a means to an end, and Leonard is far more devoted to the man than to the chair. He just wants Jim to be happy - and to be happy, he just wants Jim.

+

I want to be clear that in no way am I seeking to devalue the relationships Jim has with all the other folks at the party. The Enterprise crew is a textbook case of found family, and Jim and Leonard both have incredibly rich and meaningful relationships with many other people. And at the end of the day, they are a family which exists because they are a crew, because they’re stuck with each other for (at minimum) five long, crazy, claustrophobic years, because they have been through no end of shit together, because their bonds and sense of shared identity are what keep them alive and sane and kicking ass as the very finest crew in the Fleet.

And, like many families, they will change, grow, and scatter over the years. Alone or in pairs, crew members will take promotions, accept new assignments, or retire from active starship duty. Many of them will prioritize remaining with these people on this ship for as long as they can, but eventually even Captain Kirk himself will leave the command chair, and life and duty for his hundreds of former crew will go on. The core group will almost certainly come back together occasionally, professionally and otherwise, but in the times between, their bonds be stretched across lightyears, a little muted and faded by the immediacy of daily life. Everyone is the hero of their own story, after all, and those stories will take them through new places and new adventures and new relationships and, yes, new families too.

Jim and Leonard are a different kind of family. They became that for each other long before they came onboard the Enterprise, and the essence of their relationship is unaffected by pesky details of rank or mission. Leonard will never accept reassignment or seek advancement if it means going somewhere without Jim. He’s a doctor, not a ladder-climber, and he’s never been especially passionate about Starfleet or its mandate. He’ll stay on the Enterprise as long as Jim does, and when Jim leaves, he’ll follow him wherever he goes next. Simple as that.

(I have a...complicated...relationship with the comics, but I’d be remiss not to note here that of all Jim’s tight-knit and loyal crew, Leonard is the one who ships out with him on the Endeavour in the Boldly Go comics - even taking a demotion to do so - not long after the birthday party in question.)

+

You may have noticed that I haven’t even touched on the capital-L Love aspect of things. The birthday party is pre-paradigm shift, by my reckoning, and I honestly believe that all of the above holds true whether or not you imagine that they are inevitably headed toward romance. Leonard and Jim’s relationship is just different in AOS. Their friendship is older and deeper and more exclusive than in the original timeline. They’ve grown together in every way, become more integral to each other’s sense of self. They are simply different people than their TOS counterparts, Jim especially, and I’d argue that Jim being a different person has made Leonard a different person along the way.

But, as I so often say, that’s a post for another day.