#I dunno what larger conversation it would fit into but that bit just happened

[witch-of-the-world]

I dunno why but this exchange came into my head

Wukong: You think I just crossed out my OWN name? I took the name of every monkey I could find out of that book!

Macaque: ...except for MINE.

Wukong: Wh--YES yours, OBVIOUSLY. Why would I have kept gaining more immortality if that was all it took not to die?

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 5)

This is pretty par for the course as far as some slightly horny bits but no actual horniness. Still, if that squicks you, read with caution. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (here) Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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The next few days of Geralt’s marriage didn’t fare much better than the first. He and Jaskier were truly an ill match. Sure, the young man was charming, not even Geralt was immune to his wiles, and he was certainly easy on the eyes, but he’d never met someone as annoying as Jaskier.

Jaskier could talk a mile a minute, and the less Geralt talked, the more Jaskier did. This rankled. Geralt had learned that talking less was supposed to encourage less conversation, but clearly Jaskier hadn’t grasped that.

Far worse than the talking was the singing. Singing, humming, tapping, even playing his lute, Jaskier was always doing something. It was like riding beside a musical whirlwind, with the added penalty that at least a whirlwind wouldn’t know lyrics.

It wasn’t totally Jaskier, Geralt knew. They were riding hard to get as far from Lettenhove as possible, and the weather hadn’t let up. It had rained for almost five days, steady, drenching rain, with never enough time to get dry. They went to bed damp and woke up damper. Their socks were moist, their hair sopping. Jaskier was pouting because he couldn’t play his lute and somehow that made him more talkative. Despite the springtime, the rain was cold and sometimes he had to pause mid chatter to shiver. All this, made Geralt’s mood go south. Worse, he always hated parting from his brothers. There were so few of them, the first days without them were hard. 

And he had to deal with some spoiled little rich boy.

That wasn’t being fair to Jaskier, he rarely acted spoiled, not  really spoiled. It was, however, intensely clear that he was used to comfort and they were not, right now, comfortable. He didn’t complain too much about things Geralt couldn’t change, like the weather, apart from the odd sniffle about all his clothes being wet. He did beg to stay in an inn though. 

That bothered Geralt too. They really had little money, and here the lad was trying to get Geralt to spend it on something they didn’t need. He’d survived rain before.

That thought gave Geralt pause. Of course he’d survived rain before, but had Jaskier? It was unlikely. Days and nights of being slightly damp and chilly weren’t good for humans, they tended to get things. Like chest infections. And pneumonia. 

Geralt spared a glance at the figure riding, hunched, beside him.

Unfortunately, Jaskier seemed to take this as an invitation. 

“I can’t wait to get to Oxenfurt,” he said. “I have this friend, Essi, I think you’d love her. She’d certainly love to meet you, and she’s quite pretty, so even if you won’t tell me your stories perhaps you’d tell them to her.”

Was there a hint of bitterness there?

“Anyway,” Jaskier continued. “She wouldn’t be frightened of you in the least, I know because one time we were drunk... well, I was drunk and she was tipsy, and this man came up, really rough looking type you know? And I was raised to be polite so I ask him his business...”

Geralt stopped paying much attention. If the bard could manage that much, all in one breath, he was fine. Jaskier continued, all about this Essi character and a man trying to mug them in an alley. Apparently the girl had kicked him in the rattle and flute so hard he’d thrown up.

“And there’s this great pub,” Jaskier was saying, gesturing broadly with one hand and flinging raindrops into Geralt’s face. “It’s called the King’s Boots, dunno why, but it’s got good ale. Like, really good, not the swill you probably get in these little backwater towns. Pretty barmaids, too, if that takes you fancy.”

There it was again, that odd little inflection.

“It took my fancy, when I was a student there, of course. They weren’t terribly interested in me but, well, I began studying there at fifteen. Really, I still had spots. I wasn’t the catch you see before you now.”

Geralt didn’t deign to respond. Whether or not Jaskier was a catch wasn’t something he was going to weigh in on. 

Even if he definitely had an opinion.

That was maybe the worst of it all. In spite of the constant noise and restless intrusion into Geralt’s life and routine, he did like Jaskier. That was good, considering they were married, but he wanted to kiss Jaskier, at least once. Just to try it out. That was bad because their marriage was about a half inch from being a sham. Married in name only.

“What sort of ladies do you get?” Jaskier was asking. “I mean, it’s obvious you never have any trouble finding partners.”

Geralt thought of a woman in the woods, of Blaviken, of blood. 

“Shut up.”

“No really, Geralt,” Jaskier whinged. “I wan’t to know. Queens and mages? Legendary beauties.”

“Prostitutes.”

“Ah, legendary beauties it is then.”

“I don’t know about legendary,” Geralt said, cursing himself as he did so for encouraging this inane line of questioning. “But they were beautiful enough. For a price.”

“Ah the ladies and gentlemen of negotiable affection will forever have a place in my heart,” Jaskier sighed. Geralt wasn’t about to hear Jaskier’s sexual history in any capacity. For his sanity, he decided to shut the conversation down.

“I expect they’re the only ones willing to touch you.”

Shit. That one had been too harsh. He didn’t mean it, surely men and women and people all fell at Jaskier’s feet with even a glimpse of his smile. He must know he’s attractive.

Jaskier barely spoke the rest of the day. He wasn’t even pouting, exactly. Just...quiet. 

They made camp under cover of some trees. The thick canapy leant enough dryness that Geralt could build a big fire and they hung their clothes over some low branches to dry. Out of the corner of his eye Geralt saw Jaskier take the basilisk leather from his pack and stroke a hand over it, which was strange. The material simply didn’t absorb water and needed no care.

Perhaps he just...liked it. It was a nice thought, sitting sort of warm and heavy in Geralt’s stomach, like a good meat pie. Jaskier liked his gift. Of course, he’d known that, back the day they’d met. That actually, apart from Jaskier’s father, hadn’t been too bad of a day.

Geralt thought about that day as he hunted wild game for their supper. He snagged a pheasant, a male, because it was mating season, and remembered how nervous he’d been, how at ease Jaskier had seemed. Perhaps it was because Jaskier had likely always known it would be, at least somewhat, a political match. Geralt had never thought there’d be a match at all.

Back at camp Jaskier had water boiling and was sitting in front of the roaring fire in just his trousers and chemise, even his socks so damp as to need a good drying. Geralt set the game to boil with a few wild carrots for a stew and sat beside him, feeling his hair finally begin to dry.

“This didn’t start out bad,” he said. He meant them, of course, and he meant it as a sort of apology, even if he knew it was woefully lacking. He just didn’t know what to say. Somehow, Jaskier’s mind must have been running along the same track.

It’s alright. You never wanted to get married to me.”

No, Geralt thought but didn’t say. I never wanted to get married. It has nothing to do with you. There’s nothing at all the matter with you. I’m just a grumpy bastard and we’re not a good fit.

A little voice in the back of Geralt’s head said, ‘you could be. If you let yourself, you could fit’. It sounded unnervingly like Eskel.

The truth was, if it had been anyone besides Jaskier, especially any noble, Geralt may have hated all this more. Jaskier liked nice clothes and clean appearances, but he wasn’t vain. He liked nice things but wasn’t greedy. He craved praise but wasn’t prideful, disliked many things but wasn’t hateful. Compared to the thieving, conniving, small minded nobles Geralt knew, he was unlike them all. 

He was definitely unlike his father. 

Jaskier played his slow tune on his lute. It was comforting and almost familiar, just background music. Geralt stirred the pot, breaking up some larger chunks of meat with the spoon. 

Maybe this would fix some things. They’d be dry, with hot food. That could fix a lot.

“Geralt,” Jaskier asked. “Can I sing?” 

Damn. Well, it was weird the lad was asking for permission, but Geralt didn’t like the idea of controlling the man’s voice, no matter how often he told him to ‘shut up’. Somehow it didn’t feel the same.

“Whatever,” he said.

Jaskier sang lowly, voice pitched at the edge of human hearing. Geralt wasn’t a human, of course, and could hear it clear as day. It was a folk song he’d heard before, a tragedy about a young woman who’s love left and she drowned herself.

It didn’t seem fitting. Jaskier was so lively. Geralt prayed he hadn’t fucked up enought that he’d dampened the bards spirit. 

“Do you know The Chandler’s Wife?” Geralt asked when Jaskier’s song was done.

“That one, with the” Jaskier clicked his fingers three times, mimicking the snapping or tapping that happened in the song.

“Hmmm,” Geralt confirmed, nudging the contents of the pot.

Jaskier began to play. It was a bawdy song, with tapping substituted where innuendo would be. It was simple and cheerful and short, and by the time it was finished they both had steaming bowls of stew. 

“Of all the songs you could have asked for,” Jaskier said, blowing on his stew. “I never would have picked that one.”

“Lambert’s favorite,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier chuckled. “Makes sense, seems like his sort of song.” He took a large spoonful of stew and groaned in delight. Geralt very emphatically did not pay attention to that sound in any way at all.

“I expect you miss them,” Jaskier said.

“Some,” Geralt didn’t want to talk about it, so he focused on shoveling stew in to his mouth instead. Jaskier got the hint. He just settled one tentative hand on Geralt’s shoulder for a second, then went back to eating. He may as well have pressed a brand to Geralt’s skin.

That night, in their separate bedrolls in mostly dry and fire warmed clothes, Geralt could still feel Jaskier’s palm against him. 

There was another reason, Geralt knew, for his over-grumpiness. It was guilt. Mostly he was alright, but hearing Jaskier chatter excitedly about Oxenfurt and all the things they could do together there...ate at him. 

Jaskier had said he didn’t want to be left. Gotten rid of, had been his phrasing. And Geralt was going to. This rain had just been proof, though. Next time it could be pneumonia or hypothermia. The boy shouldn’t be out here. 

It didn’t help Geralt sleep much better. Jaskier had also used the phrase ‘abandon’. 

-- -- *-- --

The next village had a monster problem. 

“Drowners, what do they do?”

“They drown people, Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “No, I meant, what do they look like--”

“Ugly.”

Another eye roll. “And how do they do it. Do they spin like an alligator? Do they sink claws in and pull...?”

“The second one,” Geralt said, sharpening his sword. He figured they were far enough from Lettenhove that whatever political turmoil Vesemir had unleashed wasn’t going to catch them too soon. 

“I can’t wait. Do they have scales? Fins? Are they slimy like frogs?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, finally paying attention. “What do you mean ‘you can’t wait?”

“I get to see you in action! Heroic witcher risks his life for helpless townspeople, it’s all very...Galahad.”

“Galahad?”

“Yes Geralt, he’s only the most famous hero written about in the last three hundred years,” Jaskier said. He was gesturing broadly, the way he always did when talking about literature. Geralt settled in for a rant. 

“You know, ‘my strength is as the strength of ten becasuer my heart is pure,’?” That was Jaskier’s quoting voice.

“Never heard it,” Geralt grunted.

“That’s okay, it’s about this hero who’s good and saves everybody. You’re better than him anyway because you’re real.”

“I’m...better than a mythical hero.”

“I mean...yeah,” Jaskier said like it was obvious. “Everyone knows flaws make a character better. You’re totally hot with a heart of gold, score. Very classic. But also,” Jaskier turned to him grinning. “You’re emotionally constipated and smell like onion.”

“You said heroics a few days ago.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, that’s what’ll go in the songs. Best of all is that you’re a witcher. Nobody likes witchers but that can change. You’ll be a tragic hero!”

“Tragic?”

“That hair is, do you ever brush it?

“We’re getting away from the point,” Geralt said, resisting the urge to swipe his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to see me fight.”

“What, you can’t just leave me at camp!”

No, no he absolutely couldn’t just leave Jaskier at camp. There could be assassins, wolves, anything.

“We’ll get a room at the inn.”

“Really? Oh Geralt, a real bed would be so nice, there’s been this crick in my neck, but you’re not leaving me in an inn room either.”

“You could perform.”

“Excellent bait, but no.”

“Jaskier, please. You need to stay in town,” Geralt was pleading. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pleading. Probably when he was trying to convince Vesemir not to marry him off for the betterment of witcherkind.

“I want to see you fight!” 

“It’s dangerous!.”

“You fight tons of these, right? I’ll stay super far away.”

“You could still get hurt, something goes wrong and you’ll get hurt! Humans are...soft.”

Jaskier tilted his chin up defiantly. Because they were the same height this wasn’t exactly necessary, but it gave Geralt a better view of his simply devastating eyes which was...not helping.

“I have the perfect plan,” Jaskier said. Were there silver flecks in his eyes? In this light Geralt was almost certain there were.

“I’ll stay back,” Jaskier was saying. “Any distance you want so long as I still get a reasonably good view. And I’ll wear the basilisk doublet.”

It was a good idea. Jaskier would stay back, the doublet would keep him safe. 

Geralt might get another chance to be smiled at byJaskier.

Doublets. Doublets, doublets doublets. Think about the doublet. 

“That would only keep your chest and arms safe.”

Jaskier smirked and patted a hand on Geralt’s chest, causing his slow heart to speed up just a little. “Are you going to let a drowner get to me? Get to my head, Geralt? My pretty face?” Jaskier pouted and Geralt’s stomach flipped over.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted. “You can come along.”

Jaskier looked very fine, all buttoned up in his basilisk leather doublet, and he was surprisingly quiet. This area of the forest was silent. and the ground was soft and slightly damp underfoot. They were near the Pontar river, which they would follow the rest of the way to Oxenfurt.

Here and there Geralt could see signs of human activity, but thankfully no humans in the area. Signs of woodcutters, likely the ill-fated ones who’d discovered the drowner’s pond in the first place, were scattered about. 

They came within view of the pond. More swamp, really. It was so covered in green algae that it looked like some sort of oddly paved floor. It was as still as glass. Geralt took Jaskier’s--surprisingly strong--shoulder in one large hand and steered the boy to a log that he deemed was sufficiently far to be safe. Then he drew his sword.

Drowners weren’t hard to fight, and here in this little pond there were just two, skinny and hungry. Geralt felt relief flood him as he realized that he wouldn’t even need his potions. He didn’t want Jaskier to finally understand what a monster he was. Geralt was enjoying putting off that realization as long as possible. He was also enjoying being a noble hero, likened to this Galahad character, who sounded alright if a bit boring. 

Geralt rolled his shoulders. He didn’t need to, but it looked nice and Jaskier was looking. The first drowner was close, now, trying to sneak through the algae, but Geralt’s vision was much better than its. He waited until the wretched thing lunged. 

The slash of the drowner’s long claws missed Geralt narrowly, but he hadn’t been worried. He pivoted, working on years of instinct. This was who he was. Here he was on much safer ground than with courting and castles. He was a witcher, and fighting monster’s was what he was trained, and to some extent built, for. 

The first slash didn’t kill the drowner, instead lopping off the arm that had so recently threatened to claw his eyes out. Then, with a clever twist of his wrist he sent his blade back the other direction, lopping off the head. It had taken all of a second from the point of the drowner’s lunge. 

It’s companion was slinking up, ready to attack as well but Geralt didn’t need time to recharge. His senses honed in, he felt his pupils dilate to take in the low light coming between the trees and he leapt.

No normal man could have made the leap that sent him over the drowner’s shoulder and onto the shore behind. It hadn’t been the full length of the pond, but rather a diagonal leap that gave him just enough time as the creature spun around. Geralt brought his sword down and cleaved the thing in two.

“Holy shit.”

Geralt looked up, not even breathing hard.

Jaskier was still in his spot on the log. Unlike Geralt, he was breathing hard. There was a flush across the tops of his cheeks, pretty and pink, and his eyes were wide. Even from his spot across the pond Geralt could see the dark pupils and the blue of his irises. 

Gerals severed the heads and warned Jaskier that he was removing the brains for his potions. His response was a squeaked ‘okay’. 

Damn. Had he scared the lad? He didn’t smell scared. Geralt wasn’t sure what Jaskier did smell like. 

He took the brains quickly and packaged them, then slung the heads of the drowner’s from Roach’s saddle. 

Thunderbolt, Jaskier’s horse, had been left at the inn. Inaccurately named, the creature, despite his large size, was docile, gentle, and prone to startling. 

Geralt dipped his hands in the scummy water and dried them on his pants to at least get off the worst of the gunk.

“Well?” he asked Jaskier.

“Wow,” the man said, stepping closer. “That was quick, too.”

Geralt grunted. “Only two.” He didn’t bother mounting up, leading Jaskier and Roach out of the forest and back towards town. 

Jaskier’s heart still sounded like it was going a little fast.

“Frightened?” Geralt asked. The lad smelled like adrenaline and...oh.

“No, just...exhilarated I suppose. I’ve never seen a battle like it.”

Jaskier smelled aroused. Now that Geralt had realized what it was it was all he could smell. The scent clogged his nose and set his brain in a pink, fuzzy cloud. Did Jaskier think...? Would he want..?

Except, of course not. Everyone knew you could get sort of adrenaline high. Plenty of young warriors got a little...stiff after a battle. And being nineteen, Jaskier probably got, got in that situation, with a light breeze. 

He was looking up at Geralt like he’d personally hung the moon, though. No one had ever, as long as he could remember, looked at him that way. There is a certain kind of beauty that comes with being kind to someone, Geralt knew. He hadn’t often seen it. Eskel had scars across his face that were frightening even to some other witchers but his friendship and care towards Geralt always blurred those over.

Now, in this fetid, swamp of a forest, Jaskier was developing that special beauty to Geralt as well. 

He was loud and talked all the time, even now that he seemed to have regained his wits he was chattering about what he’d write. His voice sounded less harsh in Geralt’s ears, though. Because Jaskier thought Geralt was special, and that made him special in return. 

They made it back to the inn, with a brief stop at the alderman’s house, muddy to the knee, although that wasn’t new. Geralt was also somewhat bloodspattered, which was horrible and wasn’t winning him favors with the townsfolk. 

“Got a room?” he asked the innkeeper, a bent old man that Geralt could probably lift on one finger. As is the wont of many smart inkeepers, there was a taproom on the first floor of the inn, and he was industriously cleaning mugs. 

“One,” the man said. “One room, one bed. No prostitutes, them ladies’ gotta do business elsewhere.”Geralt nodded and handed over the coin. 

“Bathouse in town?” he asked. They followed the old inkeeper’s directions to the edge of town, near the river. 

“I can’t wait for a good bed,” Jaskier said. “But I think I’m looking forward to this bath even more. I think my dirt has dirt on it, and my hair is disgusting. Yours too, will you let me wash it?”

Geralt wasn’t listening, also looking forward to the bath. He hummed in response.

“I hope it’s hot,” Jaskier continued. “No, hotter than that, I hope it’s boiling. I want to feel like a carrot in a stew pot when I get in.”

“You’d be a turnip,” Geralt said without thinking.

Jaskier sniffed. “And you’d be an onion.”

Geralt almost chuckled at that. The only reason he didn’t was that, at this moment, it was probably almost true. They both smelled pretty ripe. Jaskier had been correct, too, about there being layers to the grime. Geralt could almost peel himself. Like an onion.

“Anyway, I think I’d be something special, like a dash of pepper or, oh! I’d be a tomato.”

That caught Geralt off guard. 

“What.”

“A tomato, when they’re cooked just right so they almost burst when you cut into them and the juice explodes all over your mouth.”

Geralt wasn’t going to think about any juices of any kind exploding all over anyone’s mouth. Especially not Jaskier’s mouth, with it’s pink lips and clever, wicked tongue that darted out from time to time to wet them. 

“Don’t you think so, Geralt, aren’t I a tomato?”

“Hmmm.”

Jaskier did it again! It was liable to take Geralt’s sanity, the sight of him wetting his chapped lips like that. Maybe if he didn’t speak so much, worse, if he didn’t bite those lips so much, they wouldn’t be so chapped. For some reason Geralt had an insane desire to smear ointment across Jaskier’s lips with his own fingers. 

They would feel so soft.

Geralt paid the bath house attendant and they followed directions to a separate area in the low, stone building, where they could strip off and have a sort of sponge bath. This was of course so that they didn’t get dirt and monster guts in the bath, and was done with each in their own little three-walled wooden stall. Geralt had to call for a second bucket of water to get the guts from his hair. 

Sufficiently scrubbed, he stepped out into the main baths. Only then did he realize the crucial fault in his plan. They were open plan baths. Jaskier was beside him wearing nothing but a towel. Geralt, likewise in a towel, began to sweat. 

He kept his eyes firmly forward and cursed his excellent witchery peripheral vision because he could see...see Jaskier. Dark chest hair, soft and slightly damp. The way a droplet of water trailed from the back of his hair and down his neck, wetting tender skin.

Fuck. 

Jaskier walked towards the bath as if nothing was amiss. Of course, nothing was amiss, they were just two traveling companions. Having a bath. For Melitele’s sake they were married, even.

Geralt saw Jaskier’s foot hit a wet patch and the young man’s steps faltered, sliding a little. Geralt caught him with all his witcher speed, feeling Jaskier collide with his chest. Those blue eyes again, and yes, definitely silver in them. 

Jaskier was blushing, whether from proximity or steam, Geralt didn’t know. He leaned in. Jaskier’s tongue wet those inviting lips again. 

“You missed a spot on your cheek,” Geralt said, drawing back. He hadn’t been sure it wasn’t just a freckle, but it was definitely a bit of dirt. Jaskier sighed.

“Better get in and wash it off, then.”

Why did he sound dissapointed?

Geralt looked away as Jaskier released his towel and slid into the water, doing the same and waiting a second until he was absolutely sure it was safe to look. Jaskier had his head tilted back to rest against the floor, where the bath was sunk into the ground. Geralt sat next to him on the little ledge and let the warmth hit his muscles. It wasn’t boiling as Jaskier had hoped, but it was warm and lovely. The day’s fight hadn’t set any ache into Geralt’s muscles, but the days of sitting tensed up about Jaskier had, and he let them drift away.

Next to him Jaskier hummed contentedly and Geralt couldn’t help but agree. They lingered, not speaking, in the warm baths until they were truly pruny. Geralt neatly had to drag Jaskier out, but couldn’t risk Jaskier becoming too drowsy and drowning. 

They toweled off and redressed and were back at the inn in time for supper and for Jaskier to play. 

Geralt sat in the back of the small taproom, glowering about at anyone who looked like they might get close. He would have gladly gone up to their room and not bothered but Jaskier was performing. He couldn’t leave the bard there, where anyone could attack him, or ply him with too much alcohol and rob him or worse. Besides, he was curious.

Jaskier was capable, in an odd sort of way that was so far different from what Geralt was used to, but he was good at things. There was nothing he tried that he seemed to be terribly bad at. Geralt wasn’t a good judge of music, but he wanted to see if this applied to performing.

As he’d suspected, it did. Jaskier was masterful. Not only was his music top notch, but all his energy, the liveliness, the live wire electricity of him was directed when he performed. Normally, all that energy seemed to make Jaskier’s thoughts and actions a little disorganized, almost mess. Here, in this dingy little tavern, it made him radiant. Every eye was watching, every gaze enthralled, at least for a short time. If Geralt’s medallion hadn’t lain still on his chest he would have called it magic. 

It was incredibly sexy. This was Jaskier in his element, fierce and confident and wearing the doublet Geralt had given him. 

That struck a strange little shiver down Geralt’s spine. A piece of Geralt, prancing about, tied to Jaskier. The gift of the wolves of Kaer Morhen shimmered and twisted with his movements, the black pearl buttons catching dim light. Every eye was on Jaskier, some more salaciously than others, but Geralt couldn’t have cared less. He wouldn’t have cared even if someone had kissed Jaskier there and then. Geralt had no claim to Jaskier like that, they were only married in name. But they were married, and somehow Jaskier so proudly wearing that doublet meant more than a kiss ever could.

A little part in the back of Geralt’s brain wondered if he could have a kiss and Jaskier wearing the doublet, but that was silly.

Geralt went out to see Roach briefly when the performance was over. The applause was too much for his ears and his head, but ran back in when he heard the shouts. 

Three men had Jaskier against a wall, looking furious, and Jaskier looked angrier than they were. 

“Let him go,” Geralt growled, hand going for his sword...which was upstairs in their room. 

Fuck.

The men turned to him, all holding knives that were only knives because no one let swords get that jagged. 

“Your whore here,” one of them said with a shrug towards Jaskier. “Was telling us all how we shouldn’t talk shit about you witchers.”

“Yeah,” sneared another man with rotten teeth and even more rotten breath. “Got all righteous.” He stepped forward, raising his knife. “Said we ought to be thankful.

Geralt felt his muscles tense, gearing for a fight he really, really didn’t want to have.

“I think we oughta show you our ‘gratitude’,” said the third man.

“Or I can show you the door to the next world,” a voice purred. It was Jaskier.

“What is poking into your kidney, or thereabouts,” the bard continued. “Is a fish knife, I believe. I picked it up off the table. It’s pretty sharp, so I wouldn’t recommend moving very quickly. I would recommend, if you like to keep living, dropping your weapons, all three of you, and just walking away.”

The man’s compatriots looked at Jaskier in confusion. Jaskier pressed the knife in just a hair’s breadth further. 

“Do it,” growled the man currently held hostage. Three knives clattered on the floor. 

“Very good,” Jaskier purred in a voice that was both menacing and sent electric signals all the way down Geralt’s spine. “I can see you’re the brains of the outfit. Now apologize to my friend.”

“Wha..?”

Jaskier twitched his knife hand. “Apologize. To. My. Friend.”

“I’mverysorrymisterwitcher,” the man said, all in one breath. 

“Good, and?”

“And...and thank you for getting rid of the monsters?” said the man, hesitantly. Jaskier let down the knife. 

“Scram,” he said. The three toughs fled.

“A fish knife?” Geralt asked, trying not to focus on how spine tinglingly sexy that had been.

Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t keep weapons on me usually. Shall we go to bed?”

Bed turned out to be an overstatement. It was pretty much a cot, and a very slim one at that, but neither of them were going to sleep on the rough floorboards so they squished in together. 

Jaskier snuggled up to Geralt with contented little humming noises and laid his head on his chest. In the corner, in the moonlight from the window, Geralt could see the basilisk leather doublet where it lay on Jaskier’s pack. It would be a shame, he thought, wrapping his arms around Jaskier to keep him from tipping entirely out of the narrow bed. To part from his husband in Oxenfurt. 

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Tag List!

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar@aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest @innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra @permanently-exhausted-witcher @aj-itated @watchthewolvesfall @00qtee @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @west-moor @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437 @onwardsandfourwords @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @little-piece-of-tamlin @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas @fontegagrilledcheese @so--many-fandoms @kirk-spock-in-the-impala @oniongrass @flowercrown-bard @maya-the-yellow-bee @thecomfortofoldstorries @wellthisstinks  @flowercrown-bard @obsessedchildsworld @debellatis @zotinha456 @tumbleweedtech @goblin-loves-shiny-things @birdsflyhome @holymotherwolf @the-shenny-of-azkaban  @enkelikauneus @silvermirror1997 @just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard@iamaqt314 @itsthelittlethingsnlife @oneshots-galore @inikokoru @gryffinqueen

People who I tried to tag but can’t seem to: @ailorian @thenameislion-dandelion  @darkangel91939 @saphiramalbec

Supposed to be tagged and weren’t? Is your tag listed but not actually linked? I’m having some trouble, so let me know!

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Dabi x Reader Genre: Crackhumor, fluff Warnings: A little spicy and some course language Rating: 16+ for some spiciness  A/N: This is a collaboration for the crackhead sanctuary discord server. You can find everyone else’s work here. So Please enjoy this super fluffy and fun quarantine collab!

“We’re out,” Shigaraki had said.

You looked up from the bar stool you were sitting at. You were scoping out the newspaper on the counter, trying to find any updates on the global pandemic, anything that would calm your nerves. “Out of what?”

“Everything.” You watched as he chucked the empty cereal box in his hands at Dabi, who was asleep with his arms folded over the bar counter.

Dabi grumbled and rubbed one of his eyes with his charred fingers. “It’s too early for this shit.” He nuzzled his head back into his folded arms on the counter.

“Ash tray,” Shigaraki said. “I need you and (Y/n) to run to the store and get us some food and I need you to do it without getting caught.”

“Why?” Dabi’s muffled voice whined.

“Because Twice and Toga did it last time and because I’m the boss and I say so,” he demanded. “Now get up, put on a mask and a disguise and get out there.”

You didn’t like arguing with Shigaraki. It was never worth it to pick a fight that he always ended up winning. With you obliging easily and Dabi too tired to pick a fight, the both of you ended up at a crowded supermarket. People wearing safety masks scrambled around the store to try and get their items as soon as possible. So much for social distancing.

“Where should we start first?” you asked. You wore a black cloth mask over your mouth and chin. You figured it was disguise enough incase anyone regularly watched the news and might have seen your picture floating around. black gloves were fitted onto your hands and a larger than average pocket knife was hidden in your jacket pocket in case something went wrong.

“Well what’s for dinner, doll?”

Hit language hit different, and you weren’t sure whether or not you should be offended. “Excuse me?” A faint blush spread across your face. You hadn’t interacted with Dabi much since joining the league. It was usually Kurogiri you spoke to, being the only other member who could cook and had some responsible edge to him.

“It’s your turn to cook tonight, right?” Dabi’s bright blue eyes bore into you from under the shadow cast by the big hood he had up.

You faced away, refusing to look at him. Mumbling, you said “It isn’t much of a turn when it’s just between me and Kurogiri.”

Dabi chuckled. The deep and raspy sound of his voice sent shivers to your spine. “In any case, I haven’t had a hot meal in a while, so you better have something good planned, doll.”

Your face grew more flushed. “S-stop calling me that,” you said, irate with how he was acting. “Now grab a cart and get whatever non-perishable, healthy foods you can find.”

Dabi rolled his eyes but you could still feel his smirk under the cloth of his masking digging a hole right through you. “Whatever you say. I guess we’ll meet back here in, I dunno, half an hour?”

You nodded, keeping your composure and a straight face. “Half an hour.” You grabbed a cart and busted your way through the over-crowded store. It was a nightmare of people wrestling over the bare-bones of the produce section, boxes and cans of soups and non perishables, and of course the few rolls of single-ply toilet paper that no one wanted when the first wave of ransackers came through the store.

You were in awe of how undermanaged the store was. It was like the Hunger Games. You swore you saw an old woman stab someone for the last box of Cheerios. Mustering up the courage to wheel your way through the store, you found yourself dragging through aisle after aisle of nothing but a few torn up boxes littering the shelves.

You did find yourself chucking a few dented cans of tuna, dusty boxes of whole grain cereal and near expired medication into the cart. Who knows, it could be useful. It was slim pickings, but in all honesty it was better than you expected. Maybe there was a little mayo left at the hideout you could make some tuna salad with. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

You walked through the aisle of baking supplies, hoping to find a small bag of flour, when you felt a hand grasp your shoulder. Thinking fast, you grabbed the strange hand, pulled the knife out of your pocket and turned around, bringing the blade up to the stranger’s throat. But it wasn’t a stranger.

Dabi looked down at you with a deadpan expression. His mouth slowly turned upward to a smirk. “Someone’s a bit feisty today,” he said.

You looked down, hiding the blush you could feel coming through the mask over your mouth. “Don’t scare me like that,” you said, glaring back up at him. “I could have slit your throat just then.”

His eyebrows raised and his smirk grew upward. “You wouldn’t have.”

“And why not.”

He leaned in, brushing his mouth against your ear. “Because I would have stopped you.”

Your spine visibly contracted as you felt shivers move through you. “Have you found anything substantial?” you asked, trying to move the conversation along.

“Yeah,” he said, pointing to a cart behind him nearly filled to the top with snack food, cans of soups and vegetables, boxed foods and instant ramen. There were also two six packs balanced on the sides of the cart.

You were shocked. How could he find so much while you were stuck with the bare bones of dented cans and healthy cereal that no one wanted. “How? How could you find so much stuff?”

Dabi just shrugged. “Found some guy’s cart. Took it when he wasn’t looking.”

You looked back at your own pathetic cart and frowned. “This is nice and all but I don’t know how we would be able to afford all of that. We barely have ten dollars combined.”

You looked up at Dabi, waiting for him to come up with some genius way for the two of you to make it out with only paying the measly few cents you carry around.

“Who said anything about paying for this?”

Your eyes widened. “What do you mean? We can’t just walk out the door. Someone will stop us.”

He smiled under the black mask. “Take the cart and go to the front entrance. Wait for me there.”

You quirked an eyebrow up at him but followed his orders. You took the overflowing cart and made your way to the front of the store, shoving aside anyone who tried to take anything out of it. You eventually found yourself at the store’s entrance. With nothing else to do, you watched as the madness unfolded around you. The store had been ransacked entirely and the remaining people in the store were willing to fight one another for the smallest ounce of anything.

“Alright, let’s go,” you heard Dabi say as he approached you.

“What do you mean? What did you do?”

He yet again pointed behind him only to reveal the smoke and the tips of blue flames which were rapidly spreading across the aisles.

“Fire!” a bystander yelled. Everyone was quickly making their way towards the entrance.

“We better run,” Dabi said, grabbing your wrist with one hand and the cart with the other. He pulled you out of the store and the two of you ran outside to a nearby hill, far away enough to not be caught but close enough to see what was happening.

“I can believe you set the fucking building on fire,” you said through heaves as you tried to catch your breath.

“You gotta admit it’s a little funny.” Dabi cracked open a beer and you could hear the bubbles inside sizzling. He tossed you one, which you caught but did not open immediately.

“What else is in that cart?” you asked. The pile of snacks was much bigger than you first believed it to be.

“Let’s see.” Dabi thumbed through the different boxes and bags of snacks hiding the more substantial foods at the bottom. “We got some chips, a couple chocolate bars, some cereal, popcorn and crackers–”

“Ooh pass the popcorn.”

Dabi tossed you the bag of popcorn and you smiled at the satisfying sound of the bag bursting open. Pulling down your mask, you delicately tossed a piece in your mouth.

The two of you sat on the hill eating snacks and drinking beer, watching as the blue flames slowly rose further up the building. The smoke swirling along with the orange sunset looked pretty, and you didn’t even mind when Dabi put his arm around your shoulders, edging you closer to resting your head on his chest.

[stevenbasic]

“Oh good god…” I muttered to myself, scrolling to the new pic Melissa had posted, just an hour ago, “what the fuck is she doing..?” I’d finished my sad little meal, at my sad little table, and now sat on my sad little couch in my sad little apartment, and knew - despite the disquiet this post brought me - I’d need to unzip and-

<knock knock> came a rap on the door. 

Who the..?? It was 9pm, on a Tuesday night. Who would be...knocking...now?!? No one knows I’m even here unless it’s…

I dropped my phone, jumped up off the old green cushions, and tucked everything back. 

...Sheryl??

Could it be her? Here to talk? Maybe start to fix things? In a rush of anxiety, I looked about. The harsh fluorescents of the overhead room lights were off, the main illumination in the room cane from a cheap gooseneck floor lamp aside the couch, painting shadows onto the far wall. I’d cleaned up a bit...if by cleaned I meant pushed aside most of the cardboard boxes holding my roughly-packed stuff. I wanted the place to look nicer if this was indeed my newly-estranged wife but nonetheless I stepped towards the door, reaching out my hand for the knob, when I heard the voice:

“Dr JJJJJJJ….” it came, unmistakably both nasal and smoky - and then a series of new knocks, “...let us innnnnn….”

Oh no. Randi. 

My heart stopped, sank, then picked up. Randi?!? How did she know I was here?!? I hadn’t said a word to anyone in the office and now-

I looked through the peephole: 

There’s three of them!!?!

Randi, Josie and Lakshmi, all dressed up for a night out, two of them carrying what looked like trays of food, and all giggling wide-eyed in the hallway outside my “secret” apartment…not so secret anymore, I guess. I had wanted, for as long as I could, to keep this all hush-hush. I didn’t want anyone at work to know that Sheryl and I had separated, that she’d thrown me out of the house, that I’d be living for the time being in a pathetic little apartment above the office. But, it seemed, my secret was out. And if these three knew, I thought with a shiver, Melissa must-

“C’mon..!” Randi demanded, her face abruptly filling my entire view through the peephole, as she tried to gaze through it herself from the other side, “Let us in!!”

Oh Jesus. 

Knowing I shouldn’t, I found myself opening the door. “Hi, uh- how..?”

In a moment, the girls were inside: first Josie, then Lakshmi, then Randi. I was shocked as - parading past me with their party heels on - they were each at least as tall as me, Josie and Randi certainly taller. I tried to hide my dismay, and acutely felt my lost inches as they strutted into my space. Randi eyed me up and down, and aside from feeling short I suddenly also felt silly, dressed for bed already in my thin cotton shorts and grey tee shirt while they were all made up to the nines, hair and make-up. “We heard Sheryl kicked you out,” Randi said, bluntly, as she and the others glanced around the room, taking it in, in all its...meagerness, “so we brought some food.” The look on their faces, as they scanned the bare walls, the crummy furniture, was a mix of distaste (Josie), pity (Lakshmi), and amusement (Randi). “Well, I can't cook,” Randi added further, “so I just dressed up pretty.”

She certainly was, uh...dressed pretty, all three girls were. Party dresses on them all, each one smaller and tighter than the next. Randi’s, a sleekly strapless black number that ran high up her shapely thighs and showed off the top shelf of two surprisingly full breasts, was the raciest of the bunch. 

As if catching my eyes roving Randi, Josie tossed her long, silky, brown hair and spoke up. “Don’t you like Lakshmi’s dress too?” she said, “We’re taking her out dancing. I let her borrow it.” As I admired the fit of Lakshmi’s form-fitting, sleeveless minidress - orange and grey with criss-crossing stripes - Josie continued. “Mimi, show him how nice your ass looks... ” Lakshmi looked shy but obviously proud as she turned, swiveled her womanly hips in a liquid, casually sultry move, one I didn’t think she’d be capable of, and giggled. Her rear was much larger than I’d imagined, maybe just accentuated by her four-inch heels and the way her dress clung to her narrow waist. Anyway, it looked round and shapely and soft and the way it rolled...god, this is Lakshmi?? Where had she been hiding that thing??

“We’re due at the club soon…” Randi explained, obviously ignoring my near-outright leering of her friend, primping her own hair in the cheap, plastic-framed mirror on the back of the door, “...but we wanted to stop by here first...” 

“...in case you were lonely...” Josie continued, smiling at me with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“...or hungry…” Lakshmi offered, having turned back to me with her plate of food, covered by tin foil. In the meantime Josie had placed her tray down on my little coffee table, and was competing with Randi for space in the mirror, adjusting the fit of her ensemble. From behind, both other girls were no slouches either. Josie in particular had a remarkably fine butt, high and round and obviously gym-toned. She looked coltish in her tight little dress of scalloped orange chiffon, like a girl that had just grown into her curves. 

“...but it looks like you’re just thirsty,” Randi concluded, catching me ogling Josie’s ass, our eyes now meeting in the mirror. 

I turned away as she - mocking me already with her smile - continued to primp aside Josie. 

Not knowing what to say, I looked to Lakshmi behind me, who was once again innocently gazing about the one-room apartment, such as it was. “D-don’t you girls normally do happy hour on Tuesday nights?” I awkwardly asked, steering conversation as far as I could away from myself and my...home situation.

“We do,” Randi answered, taking my attention again as we both now watched Josie struggling to straighten her too-short skirt, pulling down on its hem, “but Missy’s... going through some things. So we’re just going dancing, meeting the other girls out.”

“And, we wanted to cook for you,” Josie added, finally turning back towards me, smoothing her dress with both hands running down her youthful curves. 

“I made empanadas..!” Lakshmi chirped, causing me to turn again. The bright white teeth of her smile gleamed proudly from the rich brown of her complexion as she held her plate up, an offering. “Are you hungry now, Dr. J?” she asked, eyes wide, “We can make you a plate?”

Thinking back for the moment on the takeout styrofoam meatloaf I’d had, I answered. “n-no, I just ate,” I said, flinching as a hand was suddenly on my shoulder.

“Well, why don’t you sit down, then…” Randi purred, urging me backwards the couple steps it would take to get me back to the couch, “...the girls will put the food away.”

“My mom made this lasagna,” Josie said, “it’s really good.”

Before I knew it, I was slumped back on my couch, watching as Josie and Lakshmi had taken their trays and moved to the kitchenette in the corner, trying to find room in the half-size fridge for the meals. Randi was seated close, perched on the coffee table facing me, our knees nearly touching. 

“Your place is really nice,” Lakshmi called, rearranging the few things I had on the shelves of the fridge, making room, “I like it.”

“Th-thanks,” I offered, painfully aware of the pity in her voice, and the pitiful state I’d found myself in. It was humiliating! Here I was, their employer, a man nearly twice their age living like a shamefaced dog in his abject little den. I knew I needed to stand up for myself, exert some confidence and authority to these girls and put on a brave face, but I was still emotionally reeling from the events of these last 48 hours. How did they find out, and how much did they know, about what had happened at home?

“It’s kinda small, this place,” Josie said, finally closing the door of the refrigerator, both girls turning back towards us, “it’s your wife’s, right?”

There you go. 

“y-yeah…” I answered, hating how small my voice sounded, feeling Randi’s gaze boring into my skin as the other girls began to make their way back towards us, “sh-she bought it as an investment, y-years ago. Sh-”

“She owns the whole building, doesn’t she?” Randi asked, her tone making my skin crawl, “The offices, the parking lot, the property? And you just rent from her?”

“Well, y-yeah, sorta…” I answered, looking up now at Josie and Lakshmi, who were stepping in to stand on either side of where Randi sat, “she doesn’t really charge me...rent…”

No, I found myself thinking, she takes it from me in different ways.

“At least she made it nice for you,” Lakshmi offered warmly, gazing down at me in commiseration, “I like the furniture.”

“yeah…” I replied, looking around. The mismatched furniture, here in this apartment, was probably an afterthought of Sheryl’s, some of it likely leftover from a corporate redeco she’d overseen, some of it cheap stuff she’d had delivered wholesale. The bed was flimsy, the tiny dining table plain. The whole place was austere, to put it gently. It felt lonely, spartan...just enough to get by. This couch, though, was beginning to feel crowded. “Listen,” I began, appealing to the girls as all three now stared down at me where I sat, “how did you find ou-“

“Don’t you have any money of your own?” Josie asked, cutting me off. I noticed how, with the goose lamp aside the couch, curvy silhouettes of the standing girls were cast onto the wall, across the panel of the electric box unceremoniously situated aside the doorframe. 

“W-well, Josie, it's complicated…” 

“Complicated? How is it complicated?” Randi asked, obviously baiting me, trying to get me upset, off base, “She owns everything, you don’t. Without her you’d be homeless. It must be humiliating, being that dependent on your wife…”

“Yeah,” Josie said, biting her bottom lip in thought, all three girls regarding me with a maddening sense of pity, “Were you scared, when she kicked you out?”

“S-scared? No, I just, uh-“

“I dunno...it might be nice to be on your own for awhile,” Lakshmi added, brightly earnest, “have some space, have some freedom.”

“But you’re going to have to cook, clean...all the things she used to do for you…” Josie said, turning herself and tucking her skirt to sit, next to me on my right, on the couch. She crossed her gorgeous, bare legs, right over left, towards me. I couldn’t help but notice the muscularity of her calves, her pretty knees and thin ankles. ”We can all chip in, help out,” she offered, “Can’t we, Lakshmi?”

“Oh, for sure, yes,” Lakshmi replied, excitement in her voice as she now sat her voluptuous butt to my left, “We can help take care of you, we’re good at that.”

“Yes you poor thing…” Josie cooed, cocking her head on her long, thin neck, tucking a lock of smooth, medium-brown hair behind her left ear. She and Lakshmi both sat taller than me.

“...we’re good at a lot of things,” Randi purred as, smoothly, she lifted herself off the coffee table and turned her own shapely rear towards me, to...oh god...sit in my lap. 

Surprised at the audacity of their friend, the other two girls giggled, as my eyes goggled. What am I letting happen here?? I can’t be...sitting...like this...alone in my apartment...with three young girls…one of them on my lap...the other two nestling in closer...

Perched coquettishly on my thighs, Randi tossed her thick, darkly wavy hair over her shoulder and looked down at me with smoky eyes. ”Now that Sheryl’s kicked you out, we’re all you’ve got, aren’t we?” she pouted, taking the moment to tuck a stray lock of my own hair behind my ear, “Dr. J’s girls…”

“You poor, poor thing…” Josie cooed, left hand going to my shoulder. 

“Yes poor Dr. J…” Lakshmi followed, her soft hip pressing into mine. 

They nestled in closer, the air now filled with their perfume, the smell of their shampoo and hairspray. “Good thing you’ve got us,” Randi said, smiling wickedly at my predicament, “and we’ve got you.”

“We’ve got you…” Josie cooed softly, following her friend. 

“...we’ve got you,” Lakshmi repeated, now a mantra. 

What the fuck is happening?? I thought to myself as I felt myself sinking deeper into this cheap couch and further under the spell of these three comely girls. I can’t...I can’t do this, I knew, if indeed they had plans for me tonight, plans beyond just dropping off some empanadas and lasagna. I knew that if I was going to get back into Sheryl’s good graces, save my marriage, this was not a way to start. 

Somehow, from some deep wellspring of strength, I was able to muster my resistance, even as I felt Josie’s firm breast press against my right arm, even as I watched Lakshmi’s young, brown thighs as she crossed them towards me, even as Randi’s hand slid down the back of my neck. “uhhh...ladies,” I managed, “It’s getting late, w-we all have to be in the office tomorrow.” Was I really going to be able to do this? “Thanks for, uh, dropping by, bringing the food,” I said, “but I think you should be going...”

“Awww…so soon?” Lakshmi purred. . 

”...but we just got here…” Josie followed, plumping her lower lip in a girlish pout. 

“w-we all have to be in the office tomorrow,” I repeated, this time not sounding even half as determined. 

Randi paused, letting me squirm, hearing my indecision and knowing how hard a battle I was fighting. ”Is that really what you want?” she finally asked, her dark eyes looking confidently into mine, nicely big breasts bulging above her top right at my eye level. 

I could barely say anything, but managed to pull out a semi-convincing reply. “uhhh...y-y-yes.”

Randi chuckled, and the air in the room changed as - surprisingly - Randi was telling the girls it was time to go, as they clucked in disappointment but backed away; as they stood, straightened their dresses, and started to step towards the door. I don’t know what to call the feeling I was dealing with, roiling around my chest. Disappointment? Regret? But it seemed, at least, like they were listening to me. 

Randi, though, was still on my lap. 

The girls were taking one last look at themselves in the mirror, Lakshmi running her hands through her thick black hair, and I began to move t-

“No. You stay right there,” Randi said commandingly, left hand suddenly onto my chest, pushing me back. My eyes went wide, and before I could mount a protest, she was telling the girls, “Meet me down in the car. I’ll just be a few minutes.”

“n-no, Randi, really,” I began, again moving t-

Her right hand fell to my left thigh, grabbing my cock, pressing it into my leg through my cotton shorts. Semi-hard already, my entire body shivered and all the strength to fight fell from my body, drained suddenly away. I fell back to a slump against the couch. 

“I’ll see you in a sec,” Randi told the girls, “Dr J. here just needs a chat.”

Lakshmi and Josie both glanced our way, both chirping something casually in assent. If they noticed that their friend more or less had their boss’ penis right in her hand, they gave no sign and each fluttered a goodbye wave as they left. 

The door closed behind them. 

”Randi I think you should leave,” I said, meeting her gaze with what was the last of my resolve - only to feel that die, withering away as she squeezed me through my shorts and...god help me...I moaned. 

She smiled as she saw my eyes flutter. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere...” she replied, her hand already starting a slow rhythm, my disobedient shaft responding, already growing, “I’m staying right here.”

“Y-you can’t…” oh god...oh god….

My vision’s swimming. 

“Randi, stop…” I moaned, knowing right away I had too much arousal in my voice, “you’ve got to l-leave…”

“Oh, but Dr J…” she purred smokily, shifting herself on my lap, getting comfortable, all the while still working me, “I don’t want to leave. Remember our night in the car..?”

Oh my god if I could take that back, that drunken night in her Dodge Neon. One of the best blowjobs of my life, but the collateral damage it had done... “Y-Yeah?”

“Does your wife know about it?” she asked, simply, setting her shoulders to draw my eye.

Oh crap. “N-n-no, uh...she d-doesn’t...” My mind was struggling more and more as blood left it, abandoning me to swell into the monstrous thing that grew uncomfortably down my left thigh, under her hand. 

“Want to keep it that way?” she asked, as she saw my distress and moved me, took the effort to start to rearrange me in my shorts, pulling it up, pushing it up to my hip. 

Despite the stars that danced in front of my eyes, the pleasure that was clenching my gut into a fist, I managed to speak. “R-Randi, are you...blackmailing me?”

That made her laugh, a gravelly chortle. “Blackmail? Omigod is that what you think I’m doing?” She squeezed me again, just to see me shudder. She pushed my now rock hard dick hard into my hip, making me spasm. Then she started stroking it again, through my pajama shorts. “God, I have such power over you, don’t I…?”

At that I groaned, despite myself, certainly doing nothing to refute her.

“You love that idea, don’t you?” she mused, “You love women with power. You love that I fucking own you...just like Sheryl. I fucking own you…” With that, her hand left me, she sat up straighter - just to watch me slump, surrendering in acceptance that I was basically powerless here. My cock crawled against my flesh, sliding needy and abandoned, shifting towards me, across my hip and skin, centering itself.

“You’re owned by women and you love it,” she pushed, watching how her words just excited me more, watching now as the great mass of my unmanageable manhood tented my shorts, my taut waistband pulled away from my lower belly by its brute size, “you submissive little man…”

I was defeated, she knew it, and she could do anything she wanted with me. Defeated, and my cock was here to prove it. She watched, wide-eyed - we both did - as it slowly pushed itself up past my waistband, the head sliding just proud of the elastic, then emerging further. 

Her eyes flashed. “Oh, there we are…” she chuckled, looking down at it, “there’s my friend…” 

As if feeding on the attention, needful of more, my dick continued to grow, pushing further and further up past the waistband of my shorts, which began to slide down my shaft. The cooler air of the apartment swirled around me, onto my skin, exciting me even more.

“God fucking almighty it’s huge,” Randi marveled, as she sat back a bit to allow it space, sliding off my lap now and down onto her knees, onto the floor, still watching it. 

“R-Randi...no…”

”Speaking of us doing everything your wife used to do for you…” she hummed, ignoring me and gingerly grabbing the sides of my shorts. She pulled them down, freeing my huge stiffness completely. ”Oh god is this even bigger than before?” she marveled, smiling wickedly and readying herself, as she moved my shorts under me, pulled them down my thighs, to my knees, “Or are you just skinnier?” Her eyes were plastered, now, on the dancing, waving, wobbling thing that hovered there, as if self-willed, over my hips and belly.

My lord it did seem bigger than ever, thick veins throbbing under taut purple skin, head swollen and spongy. The thing was monstrous. 

“P-please, Randi...you don’t have t-to-”

“It’s okay...my jaw is nice and loose these days,” she said, as she settled herself more solidly on her knees, pulling my shorts all the way down so she could sneak between my thighs and - in a lurid display, opened her mouth and jaw wide...uncannily wide...for my benefit.

What the fuck?? I’ve never seen a human do that, I thought, as I saw her tongue, her teeth, the glistening pink halfway down her throat. 

Chuckling at my bewildered shock, Randi just closed her insanely big mouth and continued blithely on. “Is this going to be your first blowjob in your new apartment?” she asked, as she casually took hold of my bullish member with one soft, feminine hand, “or did anyone else sneak up here earlier?”

My vision swam again with pleasure. ”Wh-what..? What do y-y-you mean..?“

“Oh, sweetie, all the girls like you, y’know,” she began, as she idly began to stroke my shaft with her right hand, “Brittni and Bobbi, Josie...they think you’re adorable. Lakshmi was, like, all giddy on her way up the stairs here. Aubrey’s basically in love with you. Even poor chubby CiCi. They alllll want to get into your pants.”

Ugh, what? Nnh...Oh my god, no...this was too confusing, the thought of that swarm, buzzing about me, and I was oblivious. Was I surrounded, and didn’t even know it?

“And now that your wife’s kicked you out, now that you’re out on your own,” she continued, her left hand reaching under me to cup my hugely turgid sac, “now we have you all to ourselves.”

“nnnngh…” was all I could manage, as her fingers began to have their way, playing in gentle massage with my outsized testicles. 

“We can do everything she used to do for you,” she said, gravel in her voice keeping it from being a whisper, “we can tend to you, now that your wife’s not around. Would you like that?” Her soft left hand palmed me, squeezed me from below as her right urged me harder and harder and harder. She was stroking me, getting me ready. “Did she used to do this for you? Help you relax, after a long day..?”

“N-n-n-nnnngh….nnn-nnn...” I groaned, worried suddenly that soon I might come, just like this.

“No? Not really…?” she asked, wide eyed and falsely earnest, “Well then..life is better already, isn’t it?”

She leaned over, and spit onto its head, a big frothy glob that clung and began to dribble. 

We both watched as her hands played with me, spreading her saliva down, somehow controlling the beast that rose from me with her thin, delicate grip. It really was a sight, her manicured fingers in a tender fist, sliding up and down the column of my beefy hardness. As if on instinct, though, after a time, my gaze drifted behind it, to the swells of her breasts bulging from the neckline of her dress, watching them move, jiggle, fill with her breath. Images of them growing, of them becoming...oh god...hers...coalesced, and suddenly it was like the scent of Melissa’s perfume was wisping around me. I took a deep breath, any resistance I had buried and forgotten, stared at Randi’s tits, and thought back to the post Melissa had put up earlier, the invitation…

After several moments of allowing my reverie, Randi spoke again. “I know you’re thinking about her, Missy, wishing this was her,” she said. 

“n-no…” I lied.

“Haha liar,” she said, “I know you more than you think I do. You wouldn’t have lasted five seconds here with her…”

fuck…

“So I'd watch out,” Randi said, all the while still casually stroking me, “before, Melissa didn’t want to be a homewrecker...” 

I gasped as she slid two fingers further under me, exploring. 

“No, Missy didn’t like the idea of getting between two people in a marriage. Me? I never cared...I’m a fucking wrecking ball,” she continued, as I tried to keep from squirming as her fingers crept closer, “Missy, though, had her stupid standards. Now, though, now…”

She squeezed my sac, tickled my nethers. Bit her lower lip and leaned in closer. 

“Now everyone wants a piece of you.” She looked at my huge cock, brutally hard in her hand, and then up at me. I saw muscles in her throat working, her jaw flexing as she prepared herself for me and leaned in closer still. Still keeping eye contact, she rubbed her smooth cheek against my tightly stiff shaft, and told me right before she swallowed me: “But right now, tonight...this part is mine...”

==================================

[psychosistr]

Mending the Broken- Chapter 2

Summary:  Jonathan and Speedwagon venture further into Dio's trap, but find themselves in a bizarre situation they couldn't have foreseen.

Notes:  Mild warning this chapter for some slightly gory visual descriptions, but nothing to far off from the canon content.

-First Chapter-

The tunnel seemed almost endless. The pair had been walking for what felt like hours, and, with no view of the sky to judge the passage of time, very well could have been. They ran out of oil in the lantern and were forced to simply let their eyes adjust to the darkness. Despite the darkness and the generally unpleasant aroma of the cave, though, there were no other hindrances. It was quite strange…

“Oi, Mr.Joestar..” Speedwagon stopped to brace his hand against the wall of the tunnel, looking a bit unsteady on his feet. “Sorry..but..mind if we stop a spell? I dunno why..but me ‘ead’s killin’ me..”

Jonathan nodded in understanding and walked over to his friend’s side, gently rubbing his back. “Of course. My apologies, I should have thought of that sooner- you did suffer a concussion, after all. It must be painful, even with the damage healed.”

Speedwagon shook his head slightly, rubbing at his eyes. “No, it’s not like that..it’s almost..heavy? Feels odd..” He looked up at Jonathan and he finally took notice of the dilation in the other’s brown eyes.

Jonathan gasped in realization. He sniffed the air, really taking in the aroma of the cave and it only confirmed his fears. “The air..it’s laced with something..!” He looked down at his hands and realized how hard it was to concentrate on them- his vision doubling slightly around the edges when he focused his eyes on any finer details at all. “We’ve already fallen into their trap!”

The two looked up in alarm when they heard a skittering sound within the darkness. “!!”

Speedwagon reached for his hat, trying to stand up straight. “I’ll ‘old ‘em off, Mr.Joestar! You try t’ get out!”

Jonathan got into a defensive stance of his own, trying to draw in enough air to charge his hamon, but it was proving difficult with whatever was weighing down the air getting into his lungs. “I am not going to leave you on your own!”

Speedwagon turned to him with a stern expression. “I’m already infected with whatever’s in ‘ere! You’ve got a better chance of escapin’ than I do!” He broke into a coughing fit, his body trying to expel the foreign substance from his lungs.

Jonathan frowned and, ignoring his friend’s startled exclamation, picked him up and started running. “We shall get through this together, Speedwagon!”

Speedwagon tried to say something else, likely to fuss at him for not doing as he asked, but he only ended up coughing again and holding his head with a pained groan. “Damn it..Jojo..’m not..worth it..jus..go..!”

Jonathan only held his companion tighter as he ran, determined to reach the end of the tunnel despite the sounds growing louder around them. He caught glimpses of something out of the corner of his eye every now and then, but it moved too fast for him to properly pinpoint its location for long.

Jonathan came to a split in the tunnel and, not having many options, ran to the right in hopes that it would be the way out. His hopes were dashed against the proverbial and literal rocks when he came to a dead end. Damn it all!

He glanced back over his shoulder, hearing the enemy drawing ever closer. However, the mere act of turning his head was causing waves of dizziness to hit him faster than ever. He would not be able to fight properly like this, darn it. He attempted a hamon breath once more, able to keep a little bit of his breath in his lungs before he felt the tremor of a cough building within him. The breath was only enough to build up a small amount of hamon, he would have to make it count.

Keeping one arm braced around Speedwagon, Jonathan closed his eyes and charged the bit of hamon he’d gathered to his other hand. “….” He waited, listening carefully to the movements drawing closer. Then, he heard it- something crawling along the walls before jumping in their direction. “Zoom Punch!!” It was weaker than the usual version of his attack, but it was just enough to take down the small creature with ease.

After it fell, Jonathan was finally able to see that it was some sort of small, monstrous, mixed up animal that looked like a large cave bat with a human head and, oddly enough, small flowers blooming from its back. The flowers had a pinkish hue and, although he was no botanist, Jonathan still recognized the blooms: Belladonna, the devil’s cherries, also known as deadly nightshade. Even though the creature was defeated, the flowers continued emitting an unnatural scent into the air, more so then should have naturally been possible.

Jonathan tried to remain standing, but the dizziness was proving too difficult to ignore. Then, it happened- his legs gave out from under him.

He managed to hold onto Speedwagon as they fell, landing on his back with the blond cradled protectively against his chest. As consciousness began to leave him, Jonathan held tight to his friend, doing his best to keep him nearby and hoping beyond hope that Baron Zeppeli would find them before the rest of Dio’s minions did.

___________________________________________________________

Jonathan opened his eyes to a bleary, gray nothingness. He couldn’t tell where he was and had the odd feeling of weightlessness, as if he were floating. He attempted to sit up and found himself in a standing position instead, his feet still not touching anything.

“Where..am I..?” He asked himself as he looked around. Then, he heard it- voices. He looked towards the voices and saw an all too familiar head of blond hair. “Ah! Speedwagon!” He tried to walk towards his dear friend, but found he was stuck in place. “Strange, why can’t I-?” His query was forgotten in favor of a new one once he noticed the person that Speedwagon was talking to. “Wait..is that..ME..?”

Indeed it was: Speedwagon was talking to the spitting image of Jonathan, the two smiling as they discussed something that Jonathan couldn’t quite make out at first. As he focused on listening, though, he realized this was a conversation that he’d had with Speedwagon a few days before embarking on their trip to defeat Dio:

Jonathan chuckled as Speedwagon finished speaking. “You do always have the best stories, Speedwagon.”

Speedwagon grinned broadly, clearly glad he was able to offer Jonathan some form of entertainment to lighten his mood. “I’ve got a million of ‘em! Anytime ya wanna ‘ear ‘em, just give ol’ Speedwagon a call!”

“I certainly shall.” Jonathan smiled more before a thought crossed his mind. “Speedwagon..tell me..do you really plan to come with Baron Zeppeli and myself on our mission? You know neither of us would hold it against you if you decided not to come- you would be in a great amount of danger, and I would hate to see something happen to you because of me.”

Speedwagon gave the larger man a troubled frown. “Ya tryin’ t’ say ya don’ want me comin’ with ya?”

Jonathan quickly shook his head. “No, not at all! Of course I WANT you to come with us, I merely wanted to make sure that was what YOU wanted as well. I wouldn’t want you coming along simply because you felt obligated. You are quite dear to me, Speedwagon, and I would hate to lose you in any way.”

Something briefly passed through Speedwagon’s eyes, something tender and insecure and uncertain, but as soon as it was there, it was gone,  replaced with a calm, resolute smile. “You’re important t’ me too, Mr.Joestar. I came int’ this whole mess with y’, and I plan on leavin’ the same way. Besides, I can’t just leave a monster like that t’ run amok, now can I? It’d put you an’ all me mates back on Ogre Street in a right bad spot.”

The desire to protect those you care about- Jonathan could certainly relate to that.

“I understand.” He offered the other man a warm smile in return. “Truthfully, I feel very much the same way about the whole matter: I think of how leaving Dio out in the world could put the people I care about, such as you and Erina, in danger, and how I cannot let that happen. I could not bear to lose either of you.”

Speedwagon’s smile turned a bit sad at the edges- that look in his eyes changing again. “That’s ‘bout what I’d expect from a man like YOU0, Mr.Joestar. But ya should probably put Erina a bit higher than me- she’s the one you’re plannin’ t’ stay with forever, right?”

Jonathan missed the saddened tone in his friend’s voice completely, a dreamy look coming across his face at the thought of Erina’s beautiful smile. “If all goes well and we defeat Dio, then yes, I would very much like to ask for her hand in marriage so that I may spend the rest of my life by her side.”

Speedwagon’s smile remained just a little sad but he tried forcing it into a larger grin. “I’m sure she’ll say yes. You’re an amazin’ man, Mr.Joestar- a true gentleman that anyone in this world would be lucky t’ ‘ave.”

Jonathan looked back down at his friend. “Thank you, Speedwagon. Your words give me hope and courage for what lies ahead. Whether it be undead monsters or dealing with Erina, it all seems easier with you by my side.” He finally took notice of the other man’s forced smile, causing his own to fall slightly. “Speedwagon? Is something wrong?”

Speedwagon shook his head and kept that smile firmly in place. “I’m fine, Mr.Joestar- nothin’ t’ worry ‘bout.”

Jonathan wanted to pry and ask more, but felt it would be rude to do so and trusted Speedwagon to tell him if something was truly bothering him. “Very well then, if you say so.”

Jonathan looked between the dream version of himself and Speedwagon. Had that really been the face Speedwagon made at the time? The tone in his voice? How had he missed such obvious sorrow? How had he just dismissed his dearest friend’s pain so easily?

He cared very deeply for Speedwagon. When thinking of the most important people in his life, Speedwagon was, without fail, always at the top of his list- right beside Erina in his heart. Some would find it odd for him to hold a man of such low social status in the same regard as a beautiful noble woman such as Erina, but Jonathan did not care- he loved each of them in his own way. The thought of ever being the cause of Speedwagon’s unhappiness troubled Jonathan greatly and-

Jonathan blinked in surprise at himself. “Wait..did I really just think of the word love in regards to Speedwagon..?” He’d never really payed it much thought before, but, in a way, it made sense. ‘Surely, he is kind, brave, clever, and I do greatly enjoy his companionship and love him dearly..but..do I..love him as I love Erina..?”

That thought perplexed him to no end. He knew that some men were capable of loving other men, and he certainly had no problem with it as long as both parties were happy, but he’d never really held feelings for another man himself before. Then again, throughout his life, he’d never really fallen for any women other than Erina, either, so he could not truly say that he only found women attractive.

Perhaps he was more attracted to certain personality traits rather than a particular gender? That would certainly make sense. After all, both Erina and Speedwagon were kind hearted, brave, strong in their convictions, intelligent, and charming in their own unique ways. When he thought of it that way, it was much easier to rationalize being attracted to both of them.

Still, even after admitting to his own attractions, what did that make him? An adulterer? An unfaithful ingrate towards Erina? And what of Speedwagon? How would he feel to know his close friend harbored secret thoughts and feelings for him? Would he-?

The sound of clicking heels drawing closer drew Jonathan’s attention back to the dream versions of himself and Speedwagon. Oddly enough, he saw Erina approaching them.

“Strange..” Jonathan muttered to himself as he watched the dream versions of himself and his two beloveds interacting. “Erina was not there that day..so, why would she be here now?”

He observed them, the dream version of himself giving Speedwagon an apologetic smile while Speedwagon merely put on that same forced smile from earlier and waved him off towards Erina. His dream self smiled and walked away with Erina, taking her hand in his and smiling adoringly at her.

Jonathan almost smiled at the site, but was startled when he looked back at the remaining member of the trio. “Speedwagon..?”

The blond was still smiling, waving farewell to the dream versions of Jonathan and Erina, but lines had started forming on his face under his eyes- cracks, Jonathan soon realized, as they split down his face like he was made of glass. He lowered his hand once the other two dream-versions were gone and his smile fell with it. More cracks began splintering off from the corners of his mouth, forming a twisted, disturbing facsimile of his earlier smile. He brought one hand to his face and covered it, sobbing quietly into his palm as more cracks formed- some further splitting his cheeks and jaw as if they were the paths that wet tears would take when cascading down his face, while another, much larger crack, began to form over his chest above his heart.

“Speedwagon?!” Jonathan tried to reach him again, but found he was still stuck in place. Nonetheless, he tried to call out to the other in an attempt to ease his pain. “Speedwagon, please, look at me! I’m here for you! What’s wrong?! Please, talk to me! Speedwagon!”

Speedwagon just barely lifted his head, starting to look towards Jonathan. But, Jonathan quickly noticed, something was wrong with his eyes. Rather than their usual lively state, they looked empty and hollow. He opened his mouth as if to say something, presumably to Jonathan, but was halted when a hand suddenly and forcefully plunged itself into the crack that had formed on his chest.

Jonathan���s eyes widened in alarm as the hand pulled back out, shattering Speedwagon’s chest open like a stone breaking through a stained-glass window and leaving a large, gaping hole in his torso. The hand was coated in blood as it retracted through the hole and, in its palm, it clutched Speedwagon’s still beating heart that was connected to the broken opening by its many veins and aortas- beating out a frantic rhythm as Speedwagon fell to his knees.

“SPEEDWAGON!!!” Jonathan struggled against his invisible bonds, now clearly feeling something tight around his neck, but the restraints would still not yield.

The being to whom the hand belonged came into view and Jonathan’s heart ignited with protective rage at the sight of his adopted brother smirking cruelly at him while holding his beloved friend’s heart in his hand.

“Dio!!! Get away from him!! Leave him alone!!!!!”

Dio only laughed cruelly at him and rose the quivering organ to his lips and, while maintaining eye contact with Jonathan throughout the process, devoured the other blonde’s heart one sickeningly bloody bite at a time.

“No!! Stop it! DIOOOOO!!!” Jonathan was a combination of livid and desperate. He had to do something! He couldn’t just sit there and do nothing, yet he couldn’t break the bonds on his own like this! Damn it all, what could he do to save Speedwagon?!

He looked frantically to his friend, still kneeling on the ground. His skin grew pale the more Dio partook of his heart and he had more and more cracks appearing all over his body. Strangely, though, his earlier pained frown was slowly lifting into a smile, the action causing parts of his face to break off and shatter on the ground.

Dio soon finished and licked his lips, thoroughly satisfied with his meal. He looked away from Jonathan, down to the kneeling, bloody, broken man at his feet. He gave that wicked grin of his as he reached down and tilted Speedwagon’s head up with his blood soaked hand. The other allowed this, gazing up at Dio with that shattered smiled and hollow eyes. Dio seemed to like what he saw and looked back at Jonathan with a smirk.

“He’s mine now, Jojo.”

Those words were the last thing Jonathan heard before he awoke.

<-Previous Chapter Next Chapter->

End Notes:  I always felt like Dio's chimera-zombies were wasted potential and wanted to see more of them, so you'll be getting a couple gruesome Halloween-worthy ones in this story x3

[goblinconceivable]

It’s cool, I can fill my own sails

Finishing the last few eps of s7 OUaT helped.  At the very least, it brought up issues of family inclusion and exclusion, which was a heavy theme with Regina back in the day and reexploring that a little with Wish!Hook is intriguing.  And the nod to romance being nearly absent from the season gives license to delve into the negative space and supports the reading that Regina/Rogers are on a (very very slow) trajectory.

I don’t know how and when to refer to Wish!Hook/Rogers/whatever, so I’ll just go with Rogers because it’s easier to type, and where the character ends up.

Frankly, there’s about 5 gifs of Regina/Rogers and most of them aren’t shippy in canon.  Pulled out, they create a fanon narrative, and that’s great, but I always like to start deep in canon compliance and build/reinterpret from there.

One of the best points in favor of the ship, oddly enough, is the stack of prison books.  Which are ordered, intentionally.  Snow and Charming are next to each other.  Henry and Regina.  Alice and Robin.  Lucy and Cinderella.  And Captain Hook is next to Regina.  I don’t know why Zelena/Robin and Hook/Alice are so far apart but that the 4 new characters are on the bottom.   

 I will note that this season IS a compressed and thematically focused narrative, defined by our 4 returning characters and primarily the parent/child love.  Rumple is completing his own long arc, we’ll ignore him except that he is the one reminder of true romantic love in a season otherwise largely ignoring it with the mains. Yes, Henry/Ella begins, but their function is giving birth to a child and starting a family together, rather than their own story as a romance.  Which leaves Regina and Rogers, who are all about their kids.  Who do find love, next gen starting out with the fresh start their gone-evil parents have undergone change to give them.

They each do get a love interest, insofar as that exists.  Rogers had a recurring interest in Tiana, and while she flirted a bit, she shows greater interest in Naveen.  Regina had Facilier, more explicit, though he shows greater interest and investment than she does.  What this gives us as an opening where Rogers and Regina are both open to romance, though it takes a back seat to their children.  True love, for either of them, would be the end of a long journey, rather than the instant-fall we often see.  Older, more experienced, more bruised.  They both had that already, with first loves, lost it, became villians, and villians, typified by Rumple, get more love journeys.  

Regina is more open, she knows how to love and be loved, though she isn’t desperately seeking more because she is content - though she’s realizing she has more to give.  She mentors Drizella, she fights for Wish!Henry.  Rogers wants more, but he’s in an emotional place Regina was at back in season 2 or so, albeit gentler.

A cool thing about Wish!Realm is that happy endings often don’t exist.  The stories are darker.  I don’t have much to say about that right now except that rather than losing family, Rogers gained one - and lost it, but he gained love and redemption.  Arguably more painful.

I was drawn to 2.5 scenes at the end of the show.  The first is right after the curse was broken and Gothel was defeated.  Families are reunited, happy.  Regina and Henry, Regina and Robin, Cinderella and Lucy mixing in.  Alice has Robin.  Even Tiana and Naveen run in, holding hands.  In the background, largely ignored, is Rogers.  This had to be a specific choice, especially since everyone there knows a hospital will not help his affliction, yet someone must have called them.  He’s not a part of the larger family of interrelationships, and moreover, is watching Alice become a part of it.  His ties are only to Alice, and to Rumple, who is an outlying character (yet STILL part of the group, in his way.)

The .5 is when Regina, Henry and Rogers are together.  Rogers tries to join Regina to find Rumple, and she tells him to stay (he does tend to obey her immediately, see her admonishment to find and help Alice at the station.)  Later he tries to go with Henry, and Henry knocks him out.  He’s TRYING to be helpful, be part of the group, and no one needs or wants him.

The third is at the war table.  Again, everyone is sitting around the table, together and despite there being chairs, Rogers stands back, outside the circle.  This time, his exclusion is distinctly a decision he has made, how he feels.  But something shifts.  Charming, the family patriarch, reaches out, with “and a new friend... who feels like an old friend.”  Despite having just met him, he accepts him as one of them, and Rogers is surprised but appreciative.  It’s particularly touching because Rogers has been with Henry et family (Regina and Zelena etc) for years and never felt that.

The next point is Rumple sacrificing his heart and saving Rogers.  It’s the first time someone has sacrificed for him, it’s validation.  He’s one of them, annointed by the crocodille.  Literally having his heart creates ties to the group, puts him back with Alice so that physical distance is no longer an excuse or reason.  It’s is linked to emotional distance, as his quest to cure his heart for Alice, for their relationship, is now over, and he can take a next step.

What happens next?  Rogers, the only other active character at this point, explains the situation.  He moves from “to save me” to “to save all of us” - he’s considering himself an us, not just his admitted friendship with Rumple, but that perhaps he’s part of the whole.  He and Regina were the two tightest with Rumple, so it’s fitting.  Regina is 100% about Rumple, double proves he was beloved.  It IS his moment, the whole scene was about him.  But Rogers is on his own little journey, and he takes Regina’s oblivious hand.  Why?  

We’ve seen Regina touch him occasionally, more of a distant sympathy or comradery, but human touch is yet important, look at how much Regina hugs her family, and how much Alice and Rogers want to hug and be near each other.  Aside from Alice, Rogers never reaches out, 

Though as a side bar, when he reaches out to Tiana, to go with her to storm the castle, or hire Alice, she accepts, which probably explains why he likes her.  Conversely, trying to manufacture an adventure for Henry goes wrong, and see his recent attempts to help Regina and Henry are rebuffed.  All told, dude doesn’t have the best time of it.

So anyway, he takes her hand, and while she doesn’t acknowledge it, she doesn’t reject it either, and that is family.  Sometimes you’re just there, behind someone, supporting them as they go through their own thing.  And while sometimes you’re pushed away, you just keep trying.  Which as Hook with Emma, though I have my own issues with that.  They are the same person to large extent, so the tendency is worth mentioning.

Finally, the coronation.  Frankly, they had to pan to all the mains and Rogers/Alice/Robin are the least important group -to the show as a whole, the full 7 seasons which this scene is acknowledging and honoring.  But they do leave him as Rogers, suit and fake hand.  Distinguishing him from Original!Hook.  Which again is functional, so grain of salt and shippy eyes.  He is not yet integral, but the future is open.  As Regina says, see what’s next, indeed.

TLDR; my attempt to find a canon ships fails, but there’s potential if you look.  This is a story of an individual journey on Rogers’ part to GET to that point where he can open his heart, and romantic love can follow that.  Regina proves she’s now completely comfortable with who she is and who she has, and is open to additional love.  There may not be romance in this book, but as to the next...

Addendum because I’m doing the obsessive searching thing: apparently there’s a deleted scene where Rogers asks Henry if he got Regina’s crown.  FFS that’s useful information, it means Rogers IS a part of the group, and in fact a larger part of Regina’s future.  I mean, he’s there with Alice and Robin.  Henry swings by.  They’re not just in on the surprise, they’re planning it.  He has a role in the new world.  ...  Deserves it’s own analysis when I process.

Addendum 2 because still tracking down meta: so a reason for Regina looking to Rogers and his nodding could also be that they were talking and he let something slip at some point about... I dunno, something that didn’t make sense to her but now she’s all “oh, so this is what you were talking about?”  

[lanamemories]

waxwork | self para

Danny had been placed into Riverview Correctional, which was three hours and forty-six minutes from Rochester, if you drive non-stop. 

Lana wanted to go before the move to Huntington, and had waited until all of her things were packed up into neat little boxes, far neater than she was used to her life being organised, to make the trip.

It took four hours, and cost two hundred and fifty-eight dollars and eighty-eight cents. 

Even as she was thanking the driver and slamming the door, she wasn’t sure why she’d come.

Settling into the seat opposite wearing an oversized sweater that used to be Caleb’s, she looked the antithesis of all things Lana: drabs colours, and eyes duller than those stitched into a doll’s head.

The only thing that was the same was her hair, struck fire like a lit match.

Lana picked the phone up and gingerly pressed it to her ear, eyes flitting between his in fast succession, trying to anticipate a lurch before it came in spite of the glass setting them apart.

“You look different,” was all he greeted her with, eyes hot in investigation. 

“Yeah. So do you.”

“Yeah, I bet. I bet everyone looks different in an orange this bright, don’t you?”

Like he’d kicked a heel against her shin, Lana’s eyes dipped. Sought out the phantom pang, and resisted reaching to sift it with her fingers.

The air around her was still, save for the stilt of his breathing against the receiver. Against her ear. By the way it tightened, as soon as she sat down, anyone would think he was happy. Ecstatic, even, barely able to constrict his chest the right way. Like he’d forgotten how to do it.

“You kept looking at me, in court,” he began, clearly gauging that she wasn’t going to be the one to break their silence. Despite everything, amusement lurked in the crevices of his expression -- it loved to play hide and seek, like that, more for the fact that people always seemed to indulge the search, even if they didn’t like games. “Guess I looked good in my suit, then?”

Letting out a tense sigh, Lana kept staring at her lap.

“You gonna look at me, now, or should I just hang up the phone?”

Clearly impatient, he only got her to engage again when he started lowering it.

“Wait.”

Interest piqued, his eyebrows lifted. He raised it back, and propped it to his ear.

“You didn’t...” trailed off, eyes tentatively lifting to check his expression. It felt like having your face tossed with a glass of freezing water, to look at him at all, and the hand that wasn’t nursing the phone had slipped beneath his scope, grasping at her knee like she was resisting pulling it up and hugging it to her chest. “You said you’d... You said you’d send it out, and you didn’t. The videos. Of... me, and--,”

“Oh.” Realisation made something in Danny shift cogs. “That’s why you came? To make sure your cock sucking ventures don’t make it onto the big screen? Debut in Hollywood?”

“Look, if you’re gonna be an asshole, I can just--,”

“I was bluffing.”

Silence.

“What?”

“Yeah. I was bluffing,” he continued, shrugging a shoulder as he leaned his weight to the left. Anyone would think he was lounging in an arm chair back at home, making small talk with his favourite grandma that lived out west. Updating her on his course load.  “I wouldn’t do that to you, Lana. You might not give a shit about me, but I give a shit about you. Hilarious, isn’t it, how that works?”

“I don’t think that’s true.” It came out small. A lone coin in a large purse, barely worthy of a rattle. Like she wasn’t sure of it, even as she was saying it.

“You don’t? How come you’re here, then?” Pause. “What, you don’t want to do that movie shit, where we put our hands to the glass? My feelings are hurt, Lana.”

Despite everything, she let out a bewildered breath of laughter. At the sight of it alone, he edged closer to the glass. If it wasn’t separating them, he’d undoubtedly be lifting her chin with an index finger. Thumbing her bottom lip, so the only option was to mumble against him, if she wanted to speak.

“What’s... it like, in here?”

She didn’t know why she was asking. She didn’t know why she wanted the answer.

“Oh, it’s great, Lana. It’s really great,” he started, and she could tell by the grit in his tone that he was containing something larger. Angrier. “I get a really nice bar of soap. None of that Dove brand stuff, though. No, this one probably costs, dunno... Not even a dollar. And it barely lathers, either. Shit, I guess you could say I’m living the dream.”

“Sorry.”

“What?”

“I said... sorry. For asking.”

“Yeah?” Danny blinked, like he couldn’t believe his ears. “That’s all you’re sorry for?”

Lana had never done well, under pressure. Sometimes, she thought she was made from wax, and all it took was the mould of a few warm fingers for her to lose her shape -- distort, and bend, and lean into whatever anyone wanted of her. She’d even bought a candle, once, shaped like one of Michelangelo's statues, dusky pink and fit with a long wick, and lit it with a lighter a Tinder hook-up left behind, hair still matted to her neck with sweat and thighs aching from the force at which they’d been braced apart. Her room was pitch black, save for the flicker, and she reached out to tenderly test one of the trickles of wax, pinching her bottom lip as her hand flinched back from the heat.

Rather than race for the bathroom sink, she’d pressed together finger and thumb, watching with eyes prickling as the substance hardened. As she chipped it off her skin with a thumbnail, she mentally listed off the things it used to be. Curves, and lips, and thighs. A person, made into a puddle. 

“I told the truth,” she stated gently, blinking up at him again. “You know I did, Danny. You, like... You have to know that, right?”

“Some version of it. What was all that shit about me biting you, then? Made you seem like a right fucking... The jury lapped that up. That whole innocent thing, you did,” he scoffed, wafting a hand like it was insubstantial. Irrelevant, because of how far it was, from the truth. “Does anyone know what you’re actually like? What you like people to do?” He paused, then mellowed his tone, slightly. “I thought you liked it.”

“I don’t know what I like,” she answered a little too fast, rare in it’s complete honesty. Danny seemed to notice, too, because he leaned back, face set with a newfound curiosity.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can see that, now.”

Tilting so that she could watch another conversation down the row, alert to the slightest noise like a skittish animal, Lana’s eyes strayed without a fix point as Danny watched her all the while.

With his free hand, he gently tapped the glass to get her attention, riling her to swim like you would a docile goldfish.

“You had a lot to say about Scrawny. Benji.”

Immediately, her shoulders tensed. 

“Look, I think I should go, maybe this was a mist--,”

“No,” he dismissed, shaking his head with a new, pleading expression. The same kind he wore when the jury was watching. “No, Lana, I want you to stay.”

The flame was lit. Wick sizzling. Her head felt warm, and she did what he asked.

“Okay.”

“I’m not trying to be an asshole,” he prefaced, watching the way she tried to avoid watching him. “I’m just--... Lana, can you look at me? Come on, I barely get to see anyone normal, in here. I’d like a proper conversation.”

She looked at him. The wax was warming.

“It sounded like you care about him. That’s the impression I got.”

“Danny,” she attempted to warn, but had no follow up.

“I’m just saying. I give a shit about you, and that means I’m concerned. I mean... Look at your history.”

If she pressed a thumb to her kneecap, she was sure it would leave a dent. She was sure her bone would sallow, and sink. A gloop of skin and muscle only held upright by the back of her chair. 

“What was his name, Syd? You fucked around on him, after... what, two days? Three? Didn’t he drop out? He left campus, I heard. Ran for the hills, ‘cause you fucked with his head. And what’s... Isaac, was it? You fucked his sister, right? Didn’t he leave, too?”

“That’s--... That’s different, that’s--,”

“So that’s two drop outs. One in fucking... jail. I mean, look at me, Lana. This wouldn’t have happened, if I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Bits of her were dripping.

“You’re not... Danny, you’re not... in love with me.”

“I am. You can’t tell someone how they feel. That’s what I feel. That’s why I lost it, like I did,” he insisted, expression gentle despite the things he was saying. Like he only meant it for the greater good, to steer her onto the right path. He leaned in, phone knuckled close, elbow propped atop the table to better his position. His nose was practically to the glass, and he gave her the kind of smile you’d expect from a nurse with her hand on your shoulder, steadying you at the bedside of a sickly relative. Compassion. Sympathy. “Because that’s what it does, Lana. That’s what loving you’s like. Just look at Caleb. You fucked him the worst, and you didn’t have to fuck him at all.”

Her hand lurched, and she clunked the phone back onto the receiver. On automatic pilot, she screeched back on her chair legs, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand, just yet. Her legs were jelly.

Realising he’d stretched too far, snapped the elastic string of tolerance in her without intending to, Danny simply leaned back.

Calmly hung the phone up, and lifted a hand to palm the glass, tapping it twice.

It was obvious from the smarmy content on his expression that he felt like he’d won something. She couldn’t hear it, but she could make it out by the way that his lips moved -- she knew them well enough, by now, to memorise every sound, the formation of every syllable.

“Good luck with that.”

By the time she left the building, she wasn’t a person.

By the time she left the building, she was just a puddle of wax.

[ticklefits]

Distant Yearning

AO3 LINK !

the adventure zone : balance | taagnus | words : 5364

summary :  Magnus remembers Taako acting a little weird about something and it got him curious enough to ask about it, much to Taako's embarrassment.

“Hey, pst, Taako -- you up?”

It has to be at least two in the morning when the soft, yet audible rumble of vocals belonging to Magnus pierces the late night silence of the room. Unsurprising, Taako is awake, albeit not by choice ( insomnia’s a real burden ). Merle and Robbie, stationed messily underneath their blankets, remain in sound deep sleep; made obvious by the occasional gargantuan snores that drag from the dwarf’s mouth and the smaller ones from Robbie. At first, Taako ignores Magnus’s call, opting instead to stare at the nearest wall within the room’s darkness, groggy and somewhat agitated from the lack of a much needed repose. It’s only when the warrior addresses him again, and then a third time, that Taako raises his upper frame with the support of his elbows, leaning over the side of the wooden frame that separates each bed, to peer down into the bottom bunk and hisses out “Mags, it is two in the goddamn morning."

Magnus seems to stiffen at that, instinctively delivering an apologetic smile to the smaller elf . “Yeah, ah, my bad, but listen, something’s been weighing pretty heavy on my mind for awhile and it has to do with you.”

Those words alone cause the contents of Taako’s stomach to churn, a sense of anxiety already beginning to creep from the recesses of his mind. He forces himself to sustain his semi-irritated expression and conceal any display of how that singular sentence is already making him sweat with anticipation of what Magnus is going to say.

“...Well? Ain't got all night my man, spill the tea already.” Taako urges, all too impatient to hear what is so goddamn important about himself that Magnus couldn't have kept this in until a decent hour -- namely no sooner than noon .

The larger man's visage contorts in an expression that reads half curiosity and half apprehension, as if he has abruptly decided that maybe he shouldn't have mentioned anything at all. It's too late for that though; he's got Taako's nerves whirling around like flies at a summer barbeque and if he doesn't come out with it already, it's very plausible that Taako will end up forcing it out of him one way or another. He carries his own chest of secrets, the same as everyone else, and the fear that someone, somehow, might have unlocked it and discovered something detrimental about him, terrifies the absolute shit out of him. With another gesture of urgency, Taako finally persuades Magnus to continue on.

"Uh, okay, okay, well -- this might just be stupid, or I might've just been imagining things when it happened, y'know, 'cause lotsa stuff was sorta happening all at once and there was the void fish and it's great, big, everything and--"

"Magnus, you have one more chance - count it - one more chance to tell me whatever stupid thing you have to tell me before I put you back to sleep myself." But Taako did register hearing something about the void fish, which has only served to confuse him further. What could he possibly have to do with the void fish?

"Okay! Okay, okay, so… uh.. You remember when we first met Johann in the elevator? And he was super sad and I didn't know the reason why, but I wanted him to be happy like any ol' good citizen would?"

"... Yeaaah..?"

"So I tickled him." Taako has to clench the bed frame a bit to bite back a shiver at that word. " Normal reactions all around, except… I noticed you were acting a little.. Off?"

Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh gods. If Taako's suspicions and anxieties are true, then Magnus discovering this particular secret is probably one of the worst ones he could know. He delivers his best facade of indifference, simply nodding and allowing Magnus to continue - if he begins to act out again at the mention of it, it might set Magnus off.

"The first time, I was like, whatever, he's probably just weirded out, and that's fine, like that's definitely a Taako thing, but then when I did it again is when things kinda… I dunno, intensified maybe? That might not be the right word but."

The blond could only hope this was a dream. A horribly taunting dream where Magnus had unearthed one of his deepest secrets, that absolutely no one knew about him, that was so well concealed he couldn't even begin to piece together how someone could end up knowing unless Taako himself had screwed the pooch. He goes silent in his internal prayers for this all to be a scene of his imagination and hopefully, his insomnia will do its duty and kick in again, waking him before any additional embarrassment can rear its ugly head.

"You were fidgeting and looking away from Johann and I, but sometimes your eyes would flicker back to us, and then away again. I swear I even saw your lips twitching. And you had this look like you were… yearning? I dunno, like I said, it could be hella stupid and I could be reading way too much into things."

Quietude sustains from Taako, almost too far gone into his own thoughts and wishes for none of this to be reality, as Magnus single handedly picked apart every little subtle sign that Taako had unknowingly granted his vision with, as if the elf had lain daisies out for him to effortlessly pluck. If he were any less freaked right now, he could commend Magnus for his observational skills. Finally, Taako gulps down the lump that infiltrated his throat and constricted the breath he couldn't take while Magnus had been speaking, willing the sweat that was beginning to form at his temple to dry.

"I'm.. I'm pretty sure you're just grasping at straws, Mags. I was just.. Offput 'cause you… Did that to a total stranger." He bluffs, heterochromatic eyes rolling to attempt to emphasize his faux apathy towards the situation.

"Uh huh," Magnus hums, and his stare towards Taako is all of a sudden intense, as if peering deep beyond the lavender - jade of his irises, to see what the elf has hidden behind those long, thick lashes of his. "And so… what if I decided to do it to someone who isn't a total stranger?"

Taako's eyes widen. His breathing begins to cut short again and his toes curl under the blanket on instinct. What.. The hell is going on right now?

"What if I decided to tickle you?"

That's when Taako chokes. He chokes on fucking air, has to level himself after a brief, strangled coughing fit so as to refrain from waking up their other two roommates; the last thing the wizard needs is two extra idiots looking to embarrass him. His gaze returns to Magnus, incredulous in expression, with plump lips slightly agape and cheeks tinted in obvious roseate hues. It's been at least two minutes and he hasn't delivered any sort of response other than nearly asphyxiating himself on oxygen out of sheer surprise of the fighter's words. What's the point in even saying something like that? To get a reaction out of him? To cause him more chagrin than he's already suffering with? He doesn't possess the spoons to ask Magnus that question right now, especially with the way that amber eyes maintain that focused gaze on him -- Taako meets his line of sight for a second and instantly regrets the decision.

Butterflies assault the insides of his stomach, making it nigh impossible to look Magnus in the eye right now. Could he have… the same thing Taako has? Despite Taako's palpable discomposure in regards to it, he knows that while it isn't exactly a common thing, it also isn't something totally outlandish - especially compared to some of the other kinks has been unfortunately exposed to. His blush darkens against his will, finally, slowly, providing a verbal response to his still waiting companion.

"You… um.. Why would you even..?"

Magnus' features revert back a little bit, growing soft and curious once again. "Because… I'm kinda the same, I guess? It's kinda been a thing for me for awhile. I'm assuming it's like that for you too."

"I… I-I gotta say Magnus, I'm learning a lot more about you than I thought I would and that I think would rather not know." But there's bemusement in those words; a signal that means Taako doesn't really mean what he says. At least, not all of it. Magnus only releases a small, deep chuckle and shrugs his broad shoulders.

"I guess it'd be easier to say, that I couldn't really help myself when I started noticing the signs you were putting out. You have some really.. Kinetic energy. It was like… I could feel some sort of invisible pull from you."

That only darkens Taako's freckled cheeks even more. This entire conversation has been nothing but one giant trip for him , what with Magnus not only discovering his inclination for tickling but even bringing how own desire for it to light. What's even more wild? Magnus definitely wants to tickle him -- his eyes proved that he was practically hungry for it, and gods, Taako can still feel the goosebumps decorating his flesh from the sheer magnitude of the fighter's earlier peer. On one hand, this could be terrible. Sure, he and Magnus have some sort of weird, unspoken chemistry between them and it shows when they interact with each other. Magnus is steadily learning how to handle someone like Taako and it's crazy, Taako thinks, but at the same time, a… comforting sort of thought? On the other hand, Taako has been in the worst craving moods ever since he witnessed Magnus and Johann. Even before that, the elf would be burdened with the occasional craving and have no way of relief. Magnus could… maybe… become that outlet, and if what the other says is true, then Taako, could do the same for him in return.

Yet and still, he and Magnus have a long journey ahead of them and still many paths to cross and situations to deal with it… this sort of thing is more than just a silly prank or a playful way to tease to Taako. It's a very personal and intimate extension of himself, something not another soul has shared with him. Until this burly, dog loving dork anyway… and perhaps, this some kind of a sign.

A sign that his life is, finally, starting to shine brighter than he thought it could.

After what felt like hours of mulling over the thought, Taako speaks again. "... You know this isn't just some childish shit for me, right? It's the real deal." Without truly thinking about his actions, Taako's eyes flash at Magnus and are granted the same stare that he had earlier in return. " ---- Think you can handle that?"

Magnus had wondered for the longest time if he had overstepped his boundaries by his exposure and request, up until Taako's rebuttal of a challenge and suddenly, his fingers were twitching, apexes heating up with the urge to touch and stroke. Imaginably, his intentions in the beginning had been somewhat selfish -- but can he truly be blamed? For a gorgeous wildcard like Taako to have any semblance of submission towards a kink like this, especially one shared by him as well, it's honestly astounding. How can Magnus pass up this chance? It would be a whole crime to do so.

"I think the real question is if you can handle me." He shoots back and with the way Magnus' lips curl at the corners into an eager half smirk, Taako could melt into the mattress right on point. It's been much too long since someone was able to instill in him such avidity -- Magnus managed to do so in a one single sentence. At this point, he really isn't leaving Taako much of a choice.

".. I'd say tomorrow, but since it's already tomorrow Magnus, later today then. We'll see how good you are."

A chuckle breaches from Magnus, but he nods in agreement, "Looking forward to it," and with that, slinks back under the cover of the wooden frame of his bunk, leaving Taako to his own thoughts, whilst he too crawls back into his own bed -- though neither of them actually get much sleep from that point on.

The first sight of dawn rises over the horizon and a percentage of the b.o.b rises with it, including merle and robbie, neither of which find it especially necessary to wake their other two roommates for breakfast just yet and end up leaving them alone in the room. Magnus is the first to wake, groggily with a rugged yawn as he exits the bunk and stretches as far as his limbs will allow, animating refreshed muscles and joints. Upon renewed awareness, the fight distinctly recalls the conversation he had with Taako hours prior and his fingers suddenly flex on instinct, cheeks heating up if only for the realization that this was actually going to happen. Circling around, his gaze settles on the still sleeping wizard, observing him with a softness to his eyes that Magnus has yet to see another with; he seems so peaceful when he’s actually sleeping… beautiful, even. Magnus can peer at him up close and see just how long his lashes really are, how his freckles are bunched together on the bridge of his nose, but spread out over his cheeks and just keep going, covering his skin in various areas and varying degrees.. It appears so soft and smooth, and thought of being granted the opportunity to touch it as thoroughly as he will soon is enough to make his fingers flex again, impatiently this time, forcing him to hold back a chuckle at himself.

The need for a distraction is strong, so Magnus busies himself with dressing and locating the mess hall to gather up consumables for himself and for Taako too, considering he figures neither will be leaving the room much today. A short conversation with Merle and Robbie transpires, inwardly flushing relief when the two mention they have their own businesses to attend to and probably won’t be back for awhile. Magnus gives an acknowledging goodbye without telling either of them much of his and Taako’s affairs of course, and begins his tread back to the room with as much subtle swiftness as his large self can manage.

When Taako finally rouses from slumber, he yawns and stretches high, slender digits rubbing lightly at his eyes to rid them of sleep crust and adjust to the bright morning rays. With a lazy gaze around the room, he hoists himself up to look over the frame and comes to witness Magnus on the floor, setting out a few breakfast pastries and savory treats on two trays. He senses eyes on him and glances up to Taako, who in lieu gives him a wriggly - fingered wave, making Magnus smile and gesture for him to climb down. Taako nods and wastes no time in doing so, definitely perusing the food as his stomach growls in desire. Once out of bed, he sits cross - legged in front of the tray that isn’t already in front of Magnus and begins to chow down on what catches his eye. Magnus does the same, inviting a comfortable, though temporary silence between the two.

“Sooo…” Magnus begins once they’ve both finished their meal, unable to really look at one another in the eye, “Food was good.”

Flaxen gold locks sway lightly with Taako’s nod, smoothing out the wrinkled chiffon of his sleepwear, “..Yeah. Pretty good.”

It’s another few minutes of silence, before Magnus scoots himself around and closer to Taako, immediately invoking a settlement of heat to color the blond’s cheeks in anticipation. “Listen… I don’t wanna make you any kind of uncomfortable, Taako. This all sprang up pretty fast, so if you don’t want to do this, we definitely don’t have to and can act like last night didn’t happen if that’s what you want.”

That definitely isn’t what he wants; not in the slightest. The awkwardness that plagues the air around them isn’t exactly due to the coming act itself, but mostly from Taako’s own insecurities and the fear of vulnerability that approaches with this sort of thing. He trusts Magnus enough.. That isn’t the issue. He needs to be able to trust himself not to ruin something good before anything even occurs. A sigh through his nostrils breaks the impending tension that had been building while Magnus patiently waited for Taako’s answer, legs scooting so that his entire body faces the other and with a quick once over of Magnus, he extends both arms and offers them to the fighter. Magnus pauses, giving off a confused stare until he slowly lifts his own arms and mimics Taako’s motion with a small tilt of his head. A roll of his eyes ensues, but at least Magnus’ clueless has an amusing charm to it -- especially right now, helping to further evaporate some of the rigidity of the situation.

“No, dork -- touch me.” Taako lays his arms within Magnus’ open palms and the reaction from Magnus is immediate: a small “oh” sound, as if surprised, and a realization from his earlier ponderance does in fact conclude that Taako has really.. really soft skin. Unlike Magnus’ own flesh, which is scarred and calloused from his days of carpentry, to the battles of current times. Taako probably notices this too, from the thoughtful expression that perked his features once he actually felt Magnus’ fingers close around his smaller wrists. They remain like this, Magnus’s hands wrapped around Taako’s arms like loose handcuffs, simply getting a feel for his skin and determining a course of action. While brushing up the underskin of his arms, Taako squirms and a little whimper pulls from his throat before he realizes it. Magnus definitely takes notice of that reaction and repeats his action, watching with a blossoming delight at how Taako squirms a little bit harder that time and has to bite his lip to capture the noise before it leaks out again; however, it’s a little too late for that and timidness is suddenly out of the door.

Before Taako can truly register what happened, he discovers himself with the seat of Magnus’ lap, ample hands positioning themselves on his sides but haven’t dug in. Rose paints over freckled cheeks again, daring his eyes to rise and look at him questioningly, but words don’t come to formulate a verbal response. Magnus simply smiles down at him, half apologetic and half joyful. “Sorry.. I’m really trying to be patient, but you’re already killing me here.”

Even with the advantage of their positions, Magnus is still polite, respectful in his own way despite his seemingly growing impatience. Taako actually finds it really cute, endeared by the duality of the fighter’s morals. He relaxes against the other’s chest then, a signal to Magnus that he’s comfortable enough to permit him to do as he pleases (within reason) and Magnus isn't about to let the chance go to waste. Therein, his fingers commence their dutiful exploration, spidering along Taako's sides gently while moving in an ascending and descending motion. Taako's reaction is instantaneous, with choked giggles leaking from between plump lips that he binds in a tight line, attempting to keep the budding laughter captive within the hollows of his cheeks and throat -- obviously this doesn't pan out the way he had hoped. Especially when Magnus treads further south and hits a rather sensitive area: the sections of flesh at Taako's hips that separates meat from muscle, which has him squirming almost frantically and the giggles that bubbled from his chest, already amplifying into soft , full on belly laughter.

"M-Mahahagnus -- wait, wahahahit! Nohoho -- nooohohohot theeehehehere!"

"Not there? Not there… Oh! Oh, you mean, right here?" Magnus teases, delivering impish squeezes to each hip and earning the reward of a high pitched squeal from the elf writhing in his lap. It's invigorating to know that they've only just begun and Taako is already unraveling at the seams by his hands. Though momentary, he ponders whether the wizard's prior challenge was one of bluff, lack of experience, or he's so reactive simply because he truly is that sensitive. Whatever the case may be, Magnus is certainly soaking in every wriggle and giggle that blesses him.

"Aaahaa-! Mmmahahahaha, n-nooohohoho, stop, stahahahap!" Taako squeals while he continues to flail about, only to release a small squeak of surprise when Magnus does halt his tickling and glance up at him, a shy "I didn't actually mean that--" on the tip of his tongue, but the larger interrupts him before speech can form.

"Sorry, hold on, I should've asked before we started, I got carried away -- have you thought of a safeword? I know that when you say things like stop or no, you don't actually mean them, & that's fine and all, but I'm the type of guy that needs to have communication so I know when to really stop." He even temporarily removes his hands from Taako's hips, at which a whine leaks from the smaller's lips from the loss of contact.

"Um… if I'm being honest? No. I've never really had a need for one before now, I guess." Slender shoulders shrugged nonchalantly, his skin prickling with impatience at the continued lack of Magnus' fingers tickling away. The aforementioned fighter nods, a glaze of thought spreading over his features for a minute or so. "Alright… So, take a minute to think one up real quick. Then we can continue."

A whine nearly slips from Taako's lips at that, but he fathoms the importance of having a safeword for stuff like this. He can already tell from the concise amount of tickling Magnus has enacted so far that he'll definitely need one if things become too overwhelming. Additionally, Taako wholeheartedly appreciates the concern for his well-being. "That's a very Magnus thing of you to do." he teases him a bit, before actually mulling over what word to use. "Hm.. Ah.. Let's just use milk. Easy to remember, not stupid enough for me to be too embarrassed to call out."

Magnus smiles and as if in reward, plants his hands back upon the wizard's sides, beaming a little brighter when said wizard squeaks and rattles in his lap a little from the returned contact. "Sounds good to me. I'm gettin' back to it now." With that warning, thick extremities dig back into the skin of Taako's sides, garnering a prompt explosion of giggles and squirming once again. Even though Magnus hasn't done much yet, Taako's already gone extra sensitive, with little ripples of electricity riding his skin with every stroke and dip of the fighter's skilled fingers, causing Taako to actually wonder what he's gotten himself into.

"M-mmmahaa-! Mahaahahahahagnus, plehehehehease!"

"Pleeeease what? Change spots? Gladly." He's all too curious about the rest of Taako's body; even decided on a game -- a probably evil game, appropriately named: Find the Death Spot. To keep the elf from guessing his movements or next location, Magnus has one hand poking and prodding all over the expanse of his torso, while the other acts more strategically, utilizing claw rubs and squeezes to better assess Taako's sensitivity in that area. That hand hoists up from his hip, marking tickles along the way until Magnus reaches the top of his ribs and Taako absolutely loses it.

"N-no! Nonononohohoho! Oh gohohods, shit-! Shihihihihit, not thehehehere! Ah! Ahahaa--!" Taako's mouth hangs agape as laughter pours through like an even water flow, ringed hands pushing at Magnus' own halfheartedly, but the safeword never comes despite the rest of Taako's pleas, so Magnus simply attaches both hands that sweet spot and goes to town for a bit. In lieu, Taako tries to curl up and pull his knees to his chest to protect his ribs, but all that really does is trap the other's fingers in there, allowing him to work undisturbed by the elf's own attempts at pushing his hands away. He squeals when Magnus seems to punish him for his mistake by poking in between as many ribs as he can reach until Taako has to let his knees down so that Magnus can move positions -- if he even does.

"Y'know, it's pretty cute that your ribs are this ticklish. I think next time, I'll play them like piano keys and make you a fun little song. ~ ' The tease is completely dreadful and it brings a new splash of pink to Taako's cheeks, ears, and neck, to which Magnus is totally delighted to see. His laughter only seems to raise in pitch and volume with each passing minute; Taako hadn't the slightest idea that Magnus was this good! Honestly, who the hell has he been practicing on to be able to bring someone near to tears like this? It was wholly unfair, especially if you count in the fact they've only been at this for about ten minutes -- Taako had planned on making this last as long as he could manage, but with the tickling competence that Magnus is effortlessly dishing out right now, that wish isn't appearing very probable.

Magnus' chest suddenly rumbles with a curious hum and Taako knows that can't mean great news for him. He's trying to anticipate where and how Magnus will strike next, but he isn't granting him any hints, the big bully. His skin is on edge, zapped with extra ticklish just waiting for Magnus' fingers to act as conductors for the currents again; yet when all Taako receives are light spiderings over his stomach (enough to reignite his squeaks and giggles), a foreboding sense of trepidation occurs, like the calm before the storm. He feels Magnus deciding to migrate from his stomach and gulps at the thought of him attacking his hips again -- only to realize that he isn't stopping there, and instead, rests the flat of his palms right atop the meat of Taako's thighs, wherein the elf's face flares with heat and long, pierced ears twitch perceptively, daring to observe what Magnus does next.

He can definitely feel Taako's eyes bearing down into the backs of his hands, just bracing for whatever he ends up doing. It's a powerful feeling and Magnus is soaking it all up with a grin brightening his features. However, he doesn't move his hands yet, simply keeping their positions steady while leaning closer to Taako's ear. "-- Is this alright? I don't wanna touch you anywhere you're not comfortable with."

The wispy strands of Magnus' sideburns only tickle the hypersensitive skin of his ears, forcing Taako to snap down on his bottom lip from the threat of an embarrassing squeal trying to burst from his mouth. After a few moments, Taako finally deems himself calm enough to answer, though completely refuses to even peek in Magnus' general direction; in fact, one of his own hands goes to promptly conceal half of his face as he succumbs to abashment anyway. " … Do what you gotta do my man. Pretty sure I'm handlin' you better than you thought I would, huh? Hope you got more tricks up your sleeve than that."

Magnus can't refrain from laughing softly at Taako's hardass front -- he pretty much fathoms that's all it is, considering how much the elf has melted into him from the way Magnus' fingers have treated him thus far. That's just another part of Taako's charm, and if he's being honest, Magnus thinks it's cute as shit. It makes his fingers itch for another opportunity to make Taako squeal and laugh and eat the sass-laden words he just spoke. He proceeds to do just that, hands springing back to life with soft squeezes to the tops of Taako's thighs that already send him into frantic giggles and squirms.

"S-Shi--! Shihihihihihit--!" His hands push at Magnus', yet seem to be pin them down upon his skin rather than off. The fighter can't tell if that was intentional or not, but he certainly is going to make sure that Taako feels every result of his action. He digs into the sides the wizard's thighs in circular motions, alternating between faster and rougher or slower and softer, all the while dishing out the occasional squeeze and Taako absolutely loses it.

"MahAAAHAHAHAHA!" His laughter breaks free like a cracked dam with too much pressure and finally overflowing; it's loud, pitch and octave raising to a level Magnus didn't know Taako could achieve (honestly, neither did he) and for a second, he's worried that someone may hear him and wonder what the hell was going on for him to be screeching like he is. But Magnus can't find it in himself to care all too much -- and you wouldn't either if you got to see the same sight as him: Taako with nearly his entire visage painted in hues of rose, flushed ears flicking about in what he can only assume to be excitement or overwhelm, plump lips broken apart with a wide grin that showed every single pearly white and the best part of it all? Taako is absolutely glowing, even more so than his beauty normally is. Anyone would be able to clearly visualize how much he's genuinely enjoying this despite his half-hearted pleas for the larger male to cease. It's enough to bring Magnus a blush of his own, never wanting any of this to end.

Yet, when Magnus swears he hears the strangled, half-laugh, half-whine of the word milk, he halts all movement, immediately moving his hands off of Taako and setting them on his own thighs. He's still smiling, but it's softer and more apologetic than anything. "You okay, tough guy?" He teases, his voice is so gentle, almost barely above a whisper while Taako gulps down excessively deep breaths, taking back the oxygen that was stolen with every note of his guffawing.

"D.. Don't patronize me, ahahasshole… This is gonna be your f-first and only.. victory…" Magnus is silent for a minute, simply soaking up the fruits of his labor while the aforementioned elf still continues to pull an act even while looking and feeling as ruined as he is; combat or pranks wise, Magnus would have had a real reason to honestly fear what Taako's threats would entail, but for this? The ex carpenter knows he has a pretty significant advantage. Still, it's just as cute as earlier -- Magnus is having trouble refraining from nuzzling into the top of his head, knowing that wouldn't end well for him. So he simply settles for the view, leaning back as Taako regains his bearings. "Next time won't be so easy for you."

"... Oh. So there's gonna be a next time, huh?"

Taako glances back at him as if his sentence wasn't spoken in common, "What, you thought you were gonna win a one and done? Not on your life buddy boy, better exercise those fingers up 'cause you're gonna be bowing with hand cramps to the unbreakable Taako next time."

Magnus covers his mouth on a laugh, rolling his eyes a bit. "Oh yeah, lookin' forward to that mess."

A yawn interrupts the unbreakable Taako's next statement, his hand reaching up to block the breathy sigh that leaks from his mouth. "Mmm… but, for now, as next time's loser, your punishment is to hold me while I nap.." Taako's yawn was apparently infectious, noted so as Magnus releases one of his own, suddenly too tired to protest or argue that it's probably not the best idea to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. He wordlessly follows the wizard as he lifts off of his lap and makes a wobbly trail to the lower bunk where Magnus sleeps, unceremoniously flopping atop the mattress and curling underneath the blanket, with the bigger adventurer sliding in behind him. He spoons up against Taako, curling an arm around his waist to snuggle into him better, to which Magnus hears a low, grumbly, "And no funny business Burnsides."

"Wouldn't dream of it," comes the sleepy reply, but Taako doesn't see the smile upon his lips or the fingers crossed inside of his mind.

[amnesiacgrian]

Chapter 2 - Abyss

Part 1

I hardly slept that night, for obvious reasons. The only thing running through my head was the note I had found. Trust no one… what an ominous message. I wonder who would’ve left that with me.

With the rising sun came Mumbo’s awakening, slowly but surely. I pretended I had been sleeping as well, slowly forcing myself to stand from my cramped position and stretch. The note crumpled in my hand, reminding me to store it away. Keep suspicions away for now.

But why was that note so… terrifying? It was words on paper, basically nothing, yet somehow it felt so much more sinister than just that. I dunno, I guess it bothered me. It felt like it should be a secret, something closely guarded.

I could feel Mumbo’s eyes on me, watching my thought process go down quickly, so in response I blinked up at him tiredly. “Hello Mumbo. How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged, not speaking right now. He looked about half-awake as he wandered to a chest, pulling out some eggs and pork. Those went into a furnace, laid overtop coals and left to cook up.

I glanced out the window at the sun rising over this small island, reflecting off the vast ocean right outside. It was blinding, the waves reflecting crystals of light into my eyes. I could see a boat in the distance, half-built and partially shrouded by early morning mist.

“Here,” Mumbo held out some of the eggs in my direction, a small smile on his face. “Breakfast.”

“Thanks.” I smiled back, taking the tray and devouring the food. I was much more hungry than first imagined… but then again, I can’t remember the last time I actually ate anything. Like, I could remember eating food obviously, but no actual meals.

As the last bites were taken care of, a small knock came from the floor entrance of the treehouse. Mumbo popped open the trapdoor with a foot, his plate still in his hands, and in came a new person.

She was honestly adorable. Dark brown hair with pure white ends, bright eyes the same shade as the oak bark to my left. Her pink and white cardigan went well with her white blouse and blue skirt, and her smile made me blush.

“Oh, hello!” She saw me, grinning. “Glad Iskall warned me you were awake. I’m StressMonster, but call me Stress.”

“Oh, uh… I’m Grian.” I waved a small bit, trying not to fumble too much. I turned down to the floor, kicking at it a small bit.

“And I’m chopped liver,” Mumbo helped Stress up the ladder and into the treehouse. Her wings were pure white, larger than you’d expect for a person her size, folded tightly to her back. She giggled, running a hand through her hair mindlessly.

“So it’s obvious that the few hours I took to actually sleep were when everything exciting happened. Glad to be of use.” I enjoyed her thick accent, the teasing lilt making us all smile.

“Stress-” Mumbo sighed, shaking his head. Stress giggled, winking his direction. “Whatever, is there any progress?”

“Sadly no. No exit Portals can be opened.” Stress shifted from left to right, seeming unable to stay still. Her smile became a little more forced, voice turning serious. “I have a daughter that I need to go see, I need to get out of here-”

“We know, Stress. Everyone has family out of Hermitcraft.” Mumbo pulled her into a hug, making me feel suddenly like I was… intruding, on a situation I knew nothing about. “I’m sure we’ll get out of here soon.”

“So from what I’m understanding,” I butted into the conversation, “The only way out of this place is blocked, and… no one can fix this?”

Stress and Mumbo shared a look, knowing something I didn’t. I pretended not to notice right away, letting Stress say something.

“For now, it’s… better that we let the Admins suss this one out. Speaking of which, X asked me to bring Grian over to his base for an Admin Scan.”

The slight brow crease of worry in Mumbo’s brow making me wonder what an Admin Scan exactly meant. “I thought X was going to come here and do that.”

“He was. Initially.” Stress shrugged a bit. “But now he’s needing Grian to be in his base to actually do the Scan. Something about closer to the Data Center?”

“Where is he holed up these days?”

“Some farms near the coast. He showed me around before I came here.”

Mumbo huffed, turning to dig in a chest. “I’ll take you there then. If something happens to Grian on the way there it’s on my head.”

“I’m right here,” I quietly protested, slightly cross at the way these two talked like I wasn’t here. Stress giggled, flashing me a grin.

“We know,” She opened the trapdoor to the ground, “That’s the problem.”

Before I could ask anything else, she had dropped. She launched into the air, wings spreading around herself gracefully. I watched in awe, before getting a nudge from behind me.

Mumbo was there, holding two pairs of wings. “Everyone gets an elytra this season. You wanted to fly?”

~~

Flying was so much easier than I could ever imagine.

We had started out at the very top of Mumbo’s treehouse, where I learned how to strap the wings to my body. As I connected the final strap, the wings morphed into a dark brown, reddish streaks at the very tips giving the impression of feathers.

Mumbo’s wings were black, specked with white like flecks of paint. They were long and wide, while mine were short and angled.

“Ready?” He smiled, holding a rocket in his hand. I glanced to the sky where Stress was lazily doing loops, blending in with the clouds in the infinite blue.

“Yeah. Just… jump and light, right?” I held the rocket in my hand as well, the pull-tab ready for release.

“Right,” Mumbo looked forward, determined, “One… two… three!”

We leapt off the tree at the same time, fumbling in nearly the same manner to unfold the wings. I pulled on the tab a bit before Mumbo, letting the rocket shoot me up into the sky.

Like it was natural, I pressed a button near my chest, and the elytra expanded behind me. I felt my ascent slow, angling forward into a glide easily. The breeze blowing on my face, the way the land below was so far yet steadily rising up… this all felt so…

Familiar.

I was laughing, doing loops carelessly. The air felt fresh, untouched, unchanged. I glanced down, gliding upside down, to see ^V^80 shaking 4!$ head at my antics.

“Grian!”

I gasped, realizing my fall had picked up, I was heading down headfirst to the ground. I fumbled for another rocket, but it was too late. I crashed into the ground hard, dust flying around -

- And I shot up in the middle of some small island. I sat in the middle of a beach, warm sand below my legs. The elytra that had been pinned to my back was gone, along with the note that had been in my pocket.

I panicked, checking everywhere on me for the note. Nothing. The note was gone, gone, gone-

“I knew you didn’t sleep last night!”

I jumped a solid meter in the air, turning rapidly to see the moustached man named Mumbo coming in for a landing. In one hand was the rocket he was using to fly, the other holding the back-to-grey elytra I had worn a moment ago.

“Uh… wh-what do you mean?” I grinned sheepishly, walking towards where he touched down in the sand. The elytra was thrust in my arms, and I was quick to strap it back on.

“You would have respawned in the treehouse if you had slept last night. It’s just how this works. Instead you popped up here.”

I shrugged, finishing attaching the elytra. “So what if I didn’t sleep? Does it matter?”

“Not currently, but give it a few nights.”

“What does that-” Before I could finish my question he had taken off, leaving me to fumble with another rocket and launch into the air.

I followed Mumbo’s lead back to his base, where Stress was pacing on top of the tree anxiously. Her eyes locked onto us as we came in for a landing, a relieved smile taking over her face when I stumbled forward.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Stress walked forward, fussing with my sweater. “One moment you were fine - better than any newbie has the right to be - the next you’re falling to the ground headfirst!”

“I…” I shrugged, pulling back from Stress quickly. “I don’t know. It was weird, I saw…”

What exactly did I see? It was like I was looking down at someone, but they weren’t there. Not really, at least.

“It was like… someone was there, but not.” I looked back up at the duo before me. “The ground was different, and I wasn’t flying down. I… I dunno.”

“Weird,” Mumbo glanced to the sky, where the sun was rising higher and higher. “I would love to chat more about that, but we should get to Xisuma’s base before he has a cow.”

“Right.” Stress flexed her wings, looking to the sky as well. “Follow me.”

~

...Xisuma’s ‘base’ was a bunch of farms with a mineshaft heading downwards. Xisuma himself was interesting. His bright green armor, clashing with a grey and purple helmet gave off the aura of mystery.

“It’s not much, just to get me started,” The man in question smiled sheepishly, leading us to a makeshift dirt-hut with a bed, “But it’s something.”

“I like it,” Stress grinned, “Quite quaint.”

“Thank you Stress for pretending.” He ruffled her hair as she puffed her cheeks out in a pout. I smiled as well, adoring their interaction. Mumbo had taken up a spot sitting nearby on a pile of logs, tinkering with some redstone to keep himself busy.

“Anyways, we should start now.” X gestured to his bed in the hut. “Lie down there before I black you out on your feet.”

Well that didn’t sound bad at all.

“How… exactly does this work?” I questioned, settling onto the bed. I stayed sitting up in the bed as he pulled a holographic panel out of nowhere.

X glanced at me curiously. “Well… everyone has Data. You know what Data is, right?”

“Mate, I know jack about jack.” The snap had me a bit surprised, worried that Xisuma was gonna take it as an insult, but he just laughed a bit.

“Right. Mumbo warned me about the memory stuff…” He sighed. “Well essentially everyone is made of their own Data, which Servers use to identify each person. It’s kind of complicated, but really important to our very existence.”

I nodded a bit. “So… how does that fit into the Scanny-thingy?”

“Well when I perform an Admin Scan, I can have access to your Data. Your Data contains everything about you. Memories, most importantly. By seeing your memories, I’ll maybe be able to figure out how you got here. So lie down, and we can get started.”

With a sigh, I flopped back onto the comfortable sheets. I couldn’t see what X was doing over me, but Stress squeezed my hand from nearby.

“I hope it all works out. I have some base stuff to get back to, but give me a ring if you need me.” She pulled her hand away, before leaving the small hut. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving X and myself alone in the darkness. I knew Mumbo was just outside, but that wasn’t quite as reassuring as I had hoped it would be.

His tablet thingy glowed a faint blue as he paced the small area. “Alright, we’re about ready to go. Close your eyes, and try not to resist this.”

“Resist?” I closed my eyes as requested. “What do you mean, resist?”

He didn’t answer. Well, he might have, if I didn’t suddenly fall through the ground. My eyes shot up as I fell, arms and legs flailing for any kind of purchase. I tried to spread my elytra, but found it missing, along with anything else I had been carrying on my person.

“Try not to resist this.”

Oh. He probably meant this. I took a shaky breath, doing my best to still my body. I was still falling, but I knew I wouldn’t crash. I took another deep breath.

Images appeared around me. I had my eyes closed, and within the blackness I could see movement, color coming to life. Somehow I knew this was all me, or parts of me.

Yet every time I tried to focus on one of the scenes floating around my body, it vanished. It was like grasping at straws, coming up with nothing.

A dull pain came from my back. It was like something was shifting, pushing, breaking free of my skin from underneath. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream as the pain grew more and more.

The moment the pain grew too much, I jerked forward and out of the bed. My eyes were open, and breathing was still an issue through the pain. The stabbing, slicing ache slowly faded into nothing as I became more aware of the fact that I was awake.

“Grian.” X had been kneeling in front of me, hadn’t he? “What happened?”

“Back,” I managed to squeak out, another ripple of pain making me jerk, “Hurts.”

“Can I see?” Such a gentleman, asking for my consent amidst the agony. I could only nod a bit, wincing as his cool hands slid the back of my sweater up.

Or, tried to.

Something was trapped there, yanking on my back. I cried out, jerking away from X’s hands.

“Grian, I need to be able to see your back. I need to make sure it’s not a glitch or… something worse.”

A glitch? I had no idea what that meant, but if X was mentioning it it was probably bad. He slowly slid my sweater off, making sure it didn’t get caught on my back again.

Whatever had been there before was gone. Supposedly, I had faint scars right next to each of my shoulder blades, but otherwise there was nothing to suggest pain other than the phantom memories I had.

“And the Scan? Complete failure. I couldn’t glean anything from your Data before you started screaming… and I’d rather not hurt you again.”

“So… there’s no other way for you to figure out who I am, or why I’m here?” I could hear the disappointment in my voice, and I hated it.

“Sadly no. I wish I could do more.” He seemed frustrated, but also… somewhat excited. “I’ll figure it out soon enough, but for now I should get you back to Mumbo’s.”

I nodded, standing and following him out of the dirt hut. The pain was but a faint echo in my mind now, but it felt like foreshadowing. Something big was going on here… and I had no idea who was responsible.

[fruit-teeth]

In the Wall (part 3)

A month went by. It seemed to go by rather quickly, and Miss Pauling tried her best to keep up with the work she was given. It wasn’t easy, and it was especially hard with the pregnancy and all.

Early on, Medic asked her if she wanted to terminate the pregnancy, and she told him she would think about it. Well, no decision was ever really made, and now that a whole month had gone by, there’s wasn’t much to be done about it. So, while Pauling was busy with contracts and paperwork and missions and such, she tried to accept the fact that she’d soon have a baby to deal with too.

She wasn’t exactly sure how to feel about it…she was, of course, still upset by the fact that she had no idea how she’d ended up this way in the first place, and on top of that, she had never even wanted a baby. She just couldn’t see herself as a mother, yet here she was, carrying another person inside her. How bizarre it all seemed.

Oddly, though, she developed a very strange ‘relationship’ with her unborn child. The baby began moving around, which really creeped out Pauling at first. It felt like an alien, but after about a week she became used to it.

She began talking to the baby too after a while, but not in the crooning way which mothers often use to talk to their babies. It was more like small talk, and sometimes she would even find herself having full-on, one-sided conversations with the baby.

“I remember my science teacher telling me once that a human being can fit a whole light bulb in their mouth without shattering it, but if they try to take it back out, then it shatters,” Pauling mused, all alone as she fished light bulbs out of a storage container. “Like, that sounds scary, but…don’t you almost wanna try it? I mean, not on myself, but…I wonder if that would work with a dead body?” she paused, thinking it over. “Actually…that might be a little screwed up to do that to a body, I—” she noticed the time on her watch, realizing, “Oh, shoot! I’ve been talking too much again,”

Her baby only kicked in response, but she didn’t mind. It just felt nice to have a conversation, even if it was with a literal baby who couldn’t really answer back.

It was during this time that Pauling started to look noticeably pregnant, and it wasn’t long at all before the mercenaries noticed. Medic already knew, of course, and Pauling didn’t have plans to tell the others, but when they began behaving strangely around her, she realized that they’d probably figured it out.

They were acting unusually polite and kind towards her (especially Engineer, she’d discovered, who would always offer her food and/or water, after she returned from missions), and while she knew they always held her in high respect, they behaved more gently whenever she was around. They never asked if she was pregnant, though, and she was rather grateful for that.

One day, though, Scout was the first to say something. He was not at all rude about it, but when Pauling stopped during a mission one afternoon to remove her shoe and rub her swollen ankles, Scout cleared his throat.

“So…” he began, trying to think of how to phrase what he wanted to say. “Are you…are you okay?”

“Hm?” Pauling looked up, switching from one ankle to the other. “What do you mean?”

Scout shrugged, hands in his pockets. “I mean, you’re busy at the time, and you go on these missions with us ‘n shit, and just…I dunno, is that good for you or whatever?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, slipping her shoes back on. “But no condition of mine is gonna stop me from doing my job, you understand?”

Scout just nodded. “Oh, yeah. I get that,” He didn’t bring it up after that, but Pauling could feel him looking at her stomach more than once throughout the mission. She was too tired to reprimand him for it, though, and only went about her business as usual.

However, it was a Friday night where everything changed.

After a long day, Pauling returned to her quarters, where she changed into her pajamas and climbed into bed right away. It was late, and normally she would have gotten a proper shower before bed, but she was just too tired for it. Besides, she could do it in the morning anyway.

She curled onto her side, getting comfortable as she pulled the blanket over herself and settled in (she usually preferred sleeping on her stomach, but obviously she couldn’t do that anymore), and she prepared for sleep to take over, just as it always did on these nights.

Yet she was only in bed for a few minutes before she sensed a strange presence in the room. She opened her eyes, brow furrowing as she sat up, looking around in the darkness. There was nothing, but she turned the light on just to be safe. Still nothing.

“Hm,” she pursed her lips together, going to turn the light back off when she noticed something: there was a long, thin crack in the wall next to her, stretching from the ceiling to the floor.

Pauling found herself staring at the crack. Had it always been there? She had never seen it before…

Her tired body begged for sleep, so she obliged and got back under the covers, switching the light off.

It was then, though, that she heard an odd scratching from within the wall. She groaned, burying her face into the pillow. “Better not be rats…” she muttered, mostly to herself.

The scratching continued, although the more she listened, the more she realized that it almost sounded like human fingernails instead of claws.

Miss Pauling opened her eyes again, looking up towards the wall. Finally, after a few minutes, she got out of the bed, cautiously stepping over to where she heard the scratching and placing her hand on it.

Her baby started kicking again, but harder than they ever had before, and Pauling began feeling very uneasy. She studied the crack in the wall again, watching as dust flaked out from it and caked her fingernails. Was she dreaming? This felt very bizarre and dreamlike…maybe if she could pinch herself—

All of a sudden, there was a loud ‘bang’ from within the walls. Miss Pauling didn’t see what it was, but the pressure launched her backwards and onto the bed. It happened so quickly, and Pauling barely had to time to register what had happened. Gasping, she leaped from the bed, reaching for the gun she kept in her nightstand and aiming it at the wall, her hand shaking.

The crack had become even larger, now, and bits of paint had begun to peel around it. Pauling held the gun steady, and she snarled out, “I have a gun! Show yourself!”

There was nothing. Only a silence that lasted several moments, before Pauling took a deep breath to compose herself. She rubbed her eyes, sighing as she sank down on the bed.

“Maybe I’m losing it…” she murmured, holding the gun at her side as she turned to look at the cracked wall once more.

Something on the nightstand caught her eye, though, and she realized as soon as she saw it that it had not been there before. It was a tiny, wooden box, and when Pauling picked it up, it made a rattling sound.

Confused, she slowly opened it, turning on the light to get a better look.

Inside the box were two objects: a tiny baby rattle, and an envelope. Pauling could only stare it both, her heart pounding as she tried to make sense of all of this. She fished out the envelope, tearing it open and pulling a letter from it.

Her eyes scanned the letter. It was short, but…she read it multiple times. It made no sense, yet somehow, her mind started connecting the dots. “No, no…” she mumbled, blinking, her mouth hanging open in shock.

The phone rang, and it startled her very badly, but she still answered it anyway. “H-hello?”

“Oh, hello, Miss Pauling,” it was Spy. “I didn’t expect you to be awake at this hour. Listen, I was wondering if—”

“Spy, I need your help,” she cut in, her voice trembling. “I-I’m sorry, it’s just that—something happened, and I just…I don’t know, I just need someone here!”

There was a long pause before Spy replied, “All right. What happened?”

“I-I’ll show you,” she swallowed, staring back at the wall as she felt more uneasiness spread deep down. Her baby shifted, and she brought her hand over her belly to cradle it protectively. “Please, please I need you to believe me,”

“I will, I promise,” Spy’s voice was comforting, and he assured, “I will be there soon,”

[weirdandpissedoff]

Rian Reads: X-Man #2

Writer: Jeph Loeb Artist: Steve Skroce Inker: Mike Sellers, Bud Larosa & Kevin Conrad & Scott Hanna Letterer: Richard Starkings & Comicraft Colorist: Mike Thomas & Digital Chameleon

Cover Date: April 1995

As X-Man #2 opens we catch up with Domino, who was tasked by Apocalypse with tracking down the source of great telekinetic energy that he’s been sensing (psst! It’s X-Man). Along with Caliban and some big, red guy named Grizzly, she tries beating information concerning their prey out of a big Russian mutant named Rossovich who seems like a combination of Omega Red and Dr. Octopus. A quick trek down Google Avenue informs me that Grizzly is a member of Wild Pack/Six Pack in the 616 Marvel Universe while Rossovich is, indeed, the Age Of Apocalypse incarnation of Omega Red. So, there you go.

Inevitably, Domino kills Rossovich without gleaning any useful info from him and we move on to see Nathan Summers (aka X-Man) training with Forge. After Nate has a temper tantrum he wanders off in a bad mood because he feels that Forge still treats him like a child, which is the perfect frame of mind for him to be in so that a less-than-ethical guy like new member of the group Essex can take advantage of him. Despite Forge’s orders for Nate to keep his power usage to a minimum so as to avoid detection, Essex is like, “Hey boi, can u fly, tho?” Then Nate’s all like, “Dunno, son. Let’s give ‘er a go, eh?” X-Man then does a few aerial laps around the forest clearing they’re in, after which he and Essex decide to keep this little experiment to themselves.

Later on the group is discussing what their next plan of action should be when Essex pipes up and tells everyone that he just so happens to know about a lab that is integral to Apocalypse’s plans that they could go and try to sabotage. The group hesitantly agrees to at least go check this place out and where they end up is the facility where beast performs all of his twisted mutation experiments and creates Apocalypse’s army of homegrown goons. When the group spots some members of the Madri (who, to recap, are one of the many groups of particularly dangerous mutants in Apocalypse’s employ, all of whom I find it hard to keep straight from series to series and issue to issue), the consensus is that they should peace out, but X-Man has other plans. And those plans consist of diving into a fight head first to destroy some of Beast’s equipment.

Following the obligatory fight scene of the issue during which X-Man substantiates Forge’s concerns about him not being ready for a real fight, the team retreats to an abandoned farmhouse to get some rest. Desiring answers, Nate sneaks away and, with new girl Theresa (who now goes by the codename Sonique because of her sonic scream powers, and also because Jeph Loeb can’t help himself when he has the opportunity to give characters unnecessarily weirdly spelled names) in tow, takes a little trip through the astral plane to the would-be X-Mansion in Westchester, New York just as he did in the previous issue. There he once more observes Magneto, who can’t see or hear him and Theresa in their astral forms. As it turns out though, Magneto’s young son Charles CAN see them and, freaked out by all this, Theresa somehow breaks their “psi-link,” sending them back to the farm.

Finally, Brute, the biggest, strongest and dumbest member of Forge’s little band of merry men, has an epiphany about where he recognizes Essex from and confronts him in a barn. Just as Brute calls Essex out as actually being Mr. Sinister (which, I mean…we all knew that’s who he was, but they hadn’t come right out and said it until now), Domino and her gang show up and pose menacingly for some of Jeph Loeb’s overbearing “Hey, it’s a cliffhanger!” narration.

I enjoyed this issue of X-Man much more than I did the first one, which is due in no small part to the fact that there’s nary a mention of Shakespeare nor traveling theater troupes this time around. Steve Skroce’s art, while, as I mentioned before, would get much better in subsequent years during his Marvel tenure, is still a welcome addition to the line-up of AoA artists. Conversely, if you couldn’t tell from the amount of jabs that I took at Jeph Loeb’s writing in the preceding review, his dialogue and narration hasn’t grown on me at all. 

This issue marks the official halfway point of my journey through the Age Of Apocalypse. Part of the reason why I began reading Uncanny X-Men starting at #300 all those months ago was that I wanted to experience an era of X-stories that I’ve always felt I’d missed out on. Another part of the reason for starting this little project of mine was that, while I love the X-Men, I haven’t been able to get into any of their recent runs or stories. So many mainstream superhero comics these days seem to have a “every story arc has to be 5-8 issues long so that it neatly fits into a trade paperback for the aftermarket even if the pacing and storytelling suffer as a result” vibe to them. Those earlier days of superhero comics rarely worked out into neat little story arcs and flowed more naturally as episodic, ongoing stories, which is a style of superhero comic storytelling that I sorely miss these days. 

While I’m glad that I’m finally taking the opportunity to scratch the Age Of Apocalypse off of my bucket list of comics that I’ve been meaning to get around to reading for years, I have to admit that, even though I’m largely enjoying it, AoA does have a bit of that larger storyline stink to it that I was hoping to avoid. The experience has been largely positive though, and while I’m excited to move past the Age Of Apocalypse and tackle some more of the random issues and stories beyond it, I am very curious to see how this whole crossover event is going to wrap up. 

Onwards and upwards, true believers!

- R.

[wispyatomica]

The Rabbit, The Rat, and the Hog (Chapter 7) - Alone at Night

I took a few liberties with Roadhog’s healing ability, hopefully it doesn’t seem too off putting in this essence. ^^; Chapter 7 is a bit of a long one! Enjoy! 

Want to catch up or read the full fanfic? Check out the Archive! 

Hours had past since D.Va had started the skeletal sketch of her MEKA from memory, the fading sunset light turning into black as a cool air settled into the factory building. She had already grabbed a lantern from one of the spare rooms and was using it as a light on her conveyor belt desk. Her pencil was sketching on the corner of the paper now, a heart surrounded with a series of four circular lines, she figured that if she was building one from scratch, she was going to make it her own. It was when she finished that sketch that she heard commotion coming from the catwalk and looked up to see Roadhog emerge from the room. Strangely enough, the large junker was not wearing any of his gear, the backpack straps and weaponry that had been on his visage the entire day she had seen him was finally off, and she could now see on his bare torso the large pig tattoo that he had. It was no doubt done professionally as it was clean, she wondered how long he had that tattoo and if it had figured into his criminal alias.

“G’mornin’ sunshine! Did’ya sleep this time?” Jamison chimed in quickly, having moved from his work station position, climbing up the stairs as he inquired about his friend’s rest.

Roadhog grunted and shrugged his shoulders in response to his question. She could hardly hear any of Junkrat’s further questions as they were out of earshot on the catwalk, and for once the smaller junker was being somewhat quiet. She tried to pay no mind to their conversation, not wanting to draw any reason for either of them to turn on her despite their unusual display of kindness towards her. She instead turned back to her sketching, finishing up on the skeletal structure of her future MEKA hull, when Junkrat’s exceptionally loud voice caught her attention with a loud holler.

“All patched up! Thanks Roadie. Knew I kept ya around fer somethin’!”

Roadhog grunted in annoyance but nodded his head to his companion, who was bouncing around excitedly. What caught her attention further was when Junkrat came barrelling down the stairs towards her, no bandage wrapped around his torso this time, and to her complete shock, an entirely healed torso. While he had always been shirtless, the most she had seen of him was his injury and it was none too pretty to look at, this time she was able to see all of the details of his chiseled torso and toned shoulders. The permadirt was scattered all across his chest, and despite how gross it seemed to her, it was fitting for him. She found herself staring at his left side, where there was a shotgun blast the day before.

“How did you-”

“Ah ah, take a look at yours, sheila!” He interrupted quickly, pointing at the series of three bandages around her right arm. She tilted her head slightly, before taking her left arm and undoing the bandages with ease, one after the other she revealed completely healed over skin and tissue; it was as if there was never a bullet in her arm.

“How is that possible?” Hana questioned, looking over her arm with slight concern, as if she moved it into a new position the scar and tissue damage would reveal itself again, yet no such thing occurred. Junkrat giggled excitedly, pointing a thumb over to Roadhog and proudly puffing up his chest. “Ol Roadie has got the remedy for immediate injuries, dunno how he does it, but it’s all him.”

She glanced over towards Roadhog, who had by then hit the bottom of the catwalk and was turning into the room hidden beneath the stairs, retrieving his weaponry from his own storage area. D.Va watched him through the door for a moment, before remembering the strange canister of gas that he had her inhale the night before, “Wait a second, that cannister, is that the stuff?”  “Too right, mate.”  “That’s incredible…” She responded, completely astonished by her 100% recovery from a banged up arm. The moment was however interrupted as Roadhog tossed Junkrat’s frag launcher on the ground near his feet.

“We need more food, Jamison.”

“OI, I thought I told ya not to call me that!”

“Jamison?” Hana inquired with a tilt of her head, causing the hunched over junker to shudder slightly. Roadhog chuckled behind his mask, responding to Hana’s inquiry. “It’s his real name. He hates it.”

Hana liked the relationship that the two had, it reminded her of the relationship that she and her brother had; constantly picking on each other, but always at each other’s backs in the blink of an eye. It was a nice change of pace for her, as she had adjusted to living on her own for the longest time, save for the occasional visit from her obsessive older neighbor who was making sure that she was eating properly.

Junkrat aggressively picked up his grenade launcher, patting the gun gently and making sure it wasn’t damaged as he shot a surprisingly angry glare over at his larger companion. “I also told ya not to throw my gun like that.”  Roadhog grunted in response, pointing a hand over towards the large spiked tire that Hana had unhooked from his back the night before. Junkrat looked as if he was going to retaliate, but instead moved over to his tire, deciding against challenging Roadhog. Perhaps their relationship wasn’t as brotherly as she had initially seen. She was pulled from her thoughts by Roadhog as he tapped her on the shoulder with a large finger.

“We will be back in a few hours.”

“You’re gonna leave me here alone at night?”

Roadhog nodded his head in response, hardly giving her the chance to question him again as he moved off towards his parked chopper, and it was then that she did think of something that she had been wanting to ask. “Wait, Roadhog!” She called out as she jumped from the box she was sitting on, moving over towards the bulkier male. He turned to face her as she reached his side, “Do you have any water here? I haven’t had anything to drink.” She had noticed  her dry throat earlier when Junkrat had shooed her away from his work station, but she had not bothered to ask. The latter happened to hear her question, draping an elbow onto her shoulder and leaning against her with the full weight of his surprisingly heavy body.  “I’ll show ya the spring.”  “Spring?” Hana commented, tilting her head as Junkrat motioned for her to follow him while he finished strapping a satchel around his waist.

Carrying a dirty canteen in his hand, he stepped out of the factory door, the cool air of the Australian desert tingling against his skin, it was a welcomed sensation that he had grown very accustomed to in the Outback. “I found it while we were scouting the buildin’ when we found it. Looks like it was powered by water flow.”  He moved off around a corner of the building, Hana following close behind him in the bright moonlight of the desert, until they reached a manmade cave entrance. Junkrat was the first one inside, and Hana hesitated for a moment before quickly following behind him. The moonlight fading, leaving a darkness that she was unfamiliar with, one that did truly frighten her. She felt so alone, despite hearing the nearby sound of Junkrat’s metallic leg tapping against the sandy cave floor. She reached out into the darkness ahead of her, grabbing onto Junkrat’s muscular forearm, which caused the latter to pause and look back around.

“What’s the matter? Scared of the dark?”

“Hardly, I just don’t want you to leave me for dead in here until the morning comes.”

Junkrat laughed heartily as the feeling of close cool rock gave way around them to a perceptually more open room. He pulled his arm away from hers for a moment, leaving her alone to hear the sound of flowing water. She looked around for a moment, looking for the flame ridden blonde hair of his and was met with the bright light of a lantern being flicked on. The bright white LED light illuminated the open room around them, it was quite impressive that this was all found in the middle of the Outback, quite possibly too convenient. The factory wall could easily be seen, a metal structure surrounded a stream of water flowing past her feet, and as her gaze followed the water downstream where she saw a large clear pool where the water was flowing to a stop. She shifted her gaze upstream, the sound of running water drawing her in once more as the source was discovered, a small waterfall.

“Wow...you guys are some lucky criminals to have found a place like this to whole up.”

“It took me an Roadie nearly a week to get the damn thing flowin’ again, girlie. We almost died of thirst before we got it runnin’ again.”

“I admit that I’m impressed with you two.”

Junkrat laughed as he moved over to the waterfall, opening the lid to his canteen and letting the clear liquid fill the bottle before he attached it to his satchel. “See ya in the mornin’ sheila.” He commented, lightly waving his hand over his shoulder as he left her in the lantern lit cavern, a smile forming on his lips as he looked partially back over his shoulder while he exited the cave. The moonlight returning to his amber eyes as he moved towards Roadhog, who fired up the chopper motorcycle. With a few bounds, Junkrat had launched himself into the painted sidecar, when Roadhog hit the gas and took off into the Australian outback away from their base.

“Okay, I’m completely alone in the Australian outback with two international criminals, both of which might kill me in a seconds’ notice.” She commented her herself as she moved over to the waterfall, sticking her dried lips into the cool liquid and slurping up as much water as she pleased. The water wasn’t cold, but it was cool enough to be refreshing, and once she had her fill, she got another idea. She looked over her arms, which were covered with dirt and dust, and then back to the waterfall.

“Might as well utilize them being gone to get cleaned up, maybe those two have some stolen clothes somewhere in those rooms.”

Hana took the LED lantern with her this time, using it to guide her way out of the hydropower area and back into the main factory. While crossing the small distance outside, she could see the fading dust trail left by the motorcycle Roadhog and Junkrat had just departed on, for her it was a relief to finally be alone, it was uneasy being in the company of two well known criminals. Once she had re-entered the building, she searched room to room of the factory floor and catwalk, until she discovered the motherload, figuratively speaking of course. She had stepped inside of one of the catwalk former office spaces, one that was completely full of spare parts and broken computer desks and monitors, none of which caught her interest. It was a pile of old office uniforms, she saw multiple pairs of khaki colored pants and various orange shaded t-shirts and tops. “Come on, please tell me there’s something for a gi- YES!”

She exclaimed in happiness, having found a fairly decent looking pair wide bottomed khaki pants that looked close enough to her size. This was indeed her lucky day, her old maintenance pants needed to be cleaned, and these would be what she would wear until they were dry. Hana stashed the pair of pants over her shoulder, digging through some more of the old work uniforms and found a white t-shirt with a small logo on the chest. The t-shirt looked to be her size, giving it a questionable look as she again tossed it over her shoulder with the pants. A few more minutes of looking around, and she decided that if she wasted anymore time, the duo would be back and she wouldn’t have even had the chance to clean herself.

She righted herself to her feet, moving swiftly through the building, making sure to retrieve her light gun before heading back outside to the cave entrance of the waterfall that used to power the building. There was no way that this ancient building would ever run again using water power, but the fact that there was a clean water source for her, she was content with that. She approached the waterfall, once more dunking her head under the water to get a big gulp of the refreshing liquid, her parched throat feeling much better, the harsh cough she had the previous day no longer apparent. She took a moment to look over her shoulder again, she did feel exposed, but she knew they were a thousand miles from anywhere, she should be safe.

She set the new clothes she had found on the ground far away from the water, so that she might spare them from getting wet. Hana rested herself on the ground, removing the work boots she wore that had made her feet so sore, a reality she hadn’t discovered until she had taken them off. The cool air of the cave tickled her skin as she removed her top, following suit with her bra, before slipping her cargo pants down her hips with her underwear tucked inside. She glanced over her shoulder once more, her hands covering her exposed body as she made sure that nobody was near the entrance, before finally moving into the waterfall’s stream.

The water was cold, but it was so refreshing to feel the layer of dirt rinse off of her skin, rubbing circles into the worse places on her arms, chest and stomach. Her hair was still tied up in a bun, and with a quick flick of her wrist she undid the ponytail, letting her brown hair flow freely from her neck and into the cool water stream, washing the dirt and grime out of her hair next. It was such a relaxing moment, that once she was cleaned off, she stood under the water for several minutes, enjoying herself for as long as she could.

“Shit….I don’t have a towel...Guess you’ll be using the dirty clothes then, not that the new ones are any cleaner.” She commented to herself as she tip toed through the cold cave floor and over to her clean clothes. She grabbed her old green shirt, turning it inside out and using it to crudely dry off her body as much as she possibly could. Luckily, it was able to do the job, her hair would just have to air dry this time, as much as she hated that.

Carefully Hana slipped back into her undergarments and then into the khaki pants she had just found, struggling to slide them over her thighs for a few moments due to her still damp skin. Once she had them up, the fabric fit perfectly against her rear and thighs, but was a bit loose in the hips. She placed her hands on her hips for a moment, before slipping on the white t-shirt she had found. It was also a close fit, but she could make it work, she would just have to scavenge the factory for some stuff. She crept over to her old clothes, lying them flat against the floor of the cave to let them air dry and retrieving her light pistol as she slipped back into her boots and snuck back inside of the factory.

“Alright Hana, you need scissors and a belt, something to keep these pants from falling down…”

She was often one to think aloud to herself, having accustomed to living on her own she often did that to help her remember things she needed to get done. She tapped a hand against her chin for a moment, before her eyes caught sight of Junkrat’s work station in the corner of the factory floor. Surely in all of the mess of stuff he had over there, was some sort of scissors. She made her way across the floor, careful not to disturb Junkrat’s stuff too much as she searched for something that she could use, and as luck would have her she found a pair of scissors hidden under several older sketches of Junkrat’s mine blueprints.

“Thank god this place had offices.” D.Va commented in a victorious tone of voice as she removed the t-shirt from her body, she carefully lied it flat against the conveyer belt she was using as a drawing canvas, using the scissors to cut off the sleeves of the shirt, and half of the bottom of the shirt. She nodded her head to herself as she victoriously slid the new tank top over her head and back onto her body, without the loose fitting bottom she felt a lot more comfortable. She placed her hands on her hips and gave a nod of approval before glancing around the factory floor. “Wonder if there is any utility belts around here…” She commented to herself.

She carefully walked around the open factory floor, letting her eyes roam freely as she was finally able to take in the true scale of the building thanks to that much brighter LED light she had been towing with her. With the lantern in her hand she moved to a half broken door, one that was half blocking a room. She could faintly make out a sign on the door. Electricians Only.

That sounds promising.

Hana tried moving the door for a few minutes, finding it very hard to move, until she finally grew tired of trying the hard way. She placed the lantern down, and with a swift motion of her leg, delivered a solid kick to a corner of the door, one that broke it down, collapsing it off to the side. She grinned to herself, “That’s what you get you peice of junk.” She picked the lantern up once more and stepped inside. The room had already been raided by Junkrat and Roadhog for the most part, as she could see prints in various spots in the room where fresh dust had fallen compared to older and darker layers. As she passed by several emptied and trashed lockers, a glint caught her attention from the lantern. She turned to see what looked like a large rectangular belt buckle. She tilted her head slightly reaching for the buckle only to find it attached to an odd pair of, leggings? She needed a better look at this, and the faint moonlight in the factory floor would be better.

Once onto the floor she placed the lantern on the conveyer belt, holding the strange pants up in the light to get as good of a look as she could. Sure enough there was a large silver rectangular belt buckle, one that was no doubt sturdy, the thighs of the leggings were reinforced with a heavier and thicker material, one that felt resistant to damage.

I think I know what these are...They’re like those funny pants the American cowboys would wear in those horrible old movies, except they’re industrialized! She tilted her head for a moment, folding with the strange belt until she finally figured out how it unhooked, stretching the fabric of the leggings as she slipped them up her khaki pants, the hip straps falling perfectly into place, allowing her to very easily interconnect the belt with her khakis and keep them in place. The pant legs of the industrialized chaps wrapping around the bottom of her khaki’s creating a protective shield for her ankles. She took a moment to look over the strange outfit that she had managed to hodge podge together in an abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere.

“Not bad, Hana...Not bad at all.”

Minutes turned to hours, and as the night wore away, Hana had found herself falling asleep on the conveyer belt as she tried to wait up for Junkrat and Roadhog to return. She had tried to sketch more of the MEKA unit that she could, but her tiring brain kept her from making much progress. The moonlight was dim in the room, making it nearly impossible to tell what time of night it was, and so with no visible sign of Junkrat and Roadhog returning soon, she settled to move back up to the room in which she had rested in previously. She stepped inside, having found that the blankets were tossed around again, but something did catch her attention. She had completely forgotten about her the headset that she used for interfacing with her MEKA unit in the room, and she saw it safely hanging from a clip on the wall. She tilted her head, grabbing the headset with her hands and placing it firmly on her head. She sighed wearily, moving her body down onto the futon mattress. The cool air had almost completely dried her hair in a wavy pattern, her bangs luckily still falling into proper place on her forehead as she leaned her head against a wall and decided to get some rest while the building was silent.

------

“Private Chung, how is the search for former Private Song coming?”  Captain Seo questioned in their native Korean language, his visage having become more stern and aggressive as their awol pilot had now been missing for going on three days. Sumi Chung shook her head negatively to the Captain,

“We have been looking evidence of her everywhere, when we took the MEKA units out with permission from the Australian military we couldn’t get close enough to her last pinged signal.”

“Surely she took some means of communications with her, I find it hard to believe that a young person would go anywhere without a cell phone, especially her.”

Sumi sighed and looked over to the other new recruit they had, in his hands he held the entire contents of Hana’s personal locker, including her portable gaming system and cell phone. The hours were mounting against them, the longer that she was out there meant that they had less and less time to locate her. Captain Seo sighed heavily, asking the new recruit to leave the room so that he and Sumi could speak in private.

Sumi’s posture changed as Captain Seo seemed to untense slightly himself. He tapped a finger to his temple in frustration, before raising his voice. “I did not want to do this. Private Chung, this conversation did not take place. Any intel that leaves this room will subject you to treason as well.”

“Y-Yes sir.” Sumi responded nervously, watching as Seo moved his hand down and pressed a couple of buttons on a keypad beneath the screen view of himself. A display of the Australian countryside was brought up beside him, and a small red dot appeared around a few hundred miles away from the sight of the Omnium’s destruction years ago. “All MEKA head gear is equipped with an emergency locater for down and injured MEKA pilots. The locater in Song’s headset is still active, pinging at this location.”

Sumi removed her own MEKA headset from her head, looking over the piece of technology as if she was trying to figure out just what on the headset could be the locator, and it was then that the Captain spoke up again.

“Private Chung, I am giving you a special ops mission. You have been given full clearance to take your MEKA to this location and retrieve her. Bring her back to the frigate, I shall inquire with the Australian police force to see if they would send a convoy to help bring her back.” He paused for a moment, noticing the distress on the young woman’s face. It was clear to him that she was torn on this mission.

“Sumi.” He spoke in a soft tone of voice, one that managed to catch her attention and bring her gaze back up from the floor to look at him. “I know that she was your friend, but she is jeopardizing everything that the MEKA force stands for, as well as disobeying direct orders from a commanding officer. I ask that you please lay your feelings for her aside, in order to complete this mission.

Sumi remained unchanged for a few moments, her facial expression still exhibiting a torn frown. Hana had been her friend ever since they had joined the MEKA force, and the two had been inseparable on missions that they were assigned to together. It would be very difficult for her to entirely set aside her emotions in this mission. She raised her head from the ground again, looking up to Captain Seo and saluting to him, responding in as stern of a voice as she could muster.

“I understand Captain. When do I depart?” “Immediately.”

[drink-n-watch]

  Genre : Supernatural thriller, suspense, action, drama

Movie: 50 minutes

Studio: Ufotable

  This is a story of a lonely girl and a determined doll. It is not a very happy story but sometimes stories just go that way. It is a story about how pain and yearning can make monsters out if us before we can notice it at all. How simple wishes can curse those around you. It’s also a story about finding a way to fill the emptiness within us all. Sometimes you succeed for a little while a soar, sometimes you fail and do your best not to drown. At times this is a sad story but there’s also hope hiding in the shadows. What you get out of this story, will depend on you.

Sometimes, it can be difficult to describe a 50 minute movie without giving too much away. The problem here is slightly different. The Garden of Sinners: Thanatos plays out mostly in subtext so a plain description of events won’t give you much of an idea. I tried my best though.

well I tried…

First let’s get the logistics out of the way. You can watch Garden of Sinners on Crunchyroll, where it is presented as a 10 episode series. They are in fact 10 movies of varying lengths which is why I included the runtime in this review. So far I have only watched Thanatos (the first movie made) so I can’t tell you how closely related they are and if they are better watched all in a row. Binge watching 10 movies (some over 2h) is a bit much for me. I’ll get into it more later but the atmosphere and narrative style of this first movie also doesn’t seem suited for rapid successive consumption. I’m working on my vocabulary. Please let me know if I’m using words wrong as I’m going about it pretty randomly.

Visually Thanatos is interesting although a bit unpolished. It uses this technique that makes the edges look like very wet ink wash. I’m not sure how to explain it and unfortunately it doesn’t show much in the stills. It’s a bit as id the lines waver.

just take my word for it…

The action comes in bursts, and everything is quite still the rest of the time. Shiki’s (the main character) small movements, like walking or sitting down, look jittery but I’m sure it’s a choice.  On the other hand, action scenes are fluid and we’ll choreographed. Voice acting is wide ranging and varies from character to character with some pretty intense delivery choices but it fits with the writing…

Are you bored yet by this plain list of technical features? It’s quite dull isn’t it? There’s a reason for that. I’m trying to bury the lead here. I’ve always been quite bad at not immediately blurting out everything that’s on my mind.

I usually discuss the non narrative aspects of anime separately as a way of structuring my reviews. But here, it’s completely impractical. By far the most impressive element of The Garden of Sinners is the masterfully integrated visual storytelling. Maybe I’m reading too much into is, but from what I could overanalyze, every design, visual, animation and even sound choice made in the movie, contributed to the narrative.

don’t get me started on the light and shadows!

The story itself is a rather straightforward thriller with some supernatural elements. A string of sudden suicides rocks a small community and we catch up with a woman named Shiki that seems to want to stop the deaths. She believes there is something unearthly going on and she herself is more than meets the eye.

It’s presented in a very purposefully mysterious way. For instance, characters aren’t introduced. We don’t even know their names until we’ve seen them a few times. Their backgrounds and relationships to one another are never really established and you’re left to infer everything from conversations. It can be a touch destabilizing, but it was done well enough for me to follow along the course of events even though it left a lot open to interpretation.

Because of this, the characters could be considered underdeveloped. However, they are written in a way where the lack of information seems deliberate rather than bad writing. The same can be said for most of the events. There’s an ambiguity and a lack of context. At times I was reminded of Serial Experiments Lain, although The Garden of Sinners obviously doesn’t have the time to delve in too deep in its own mythology. Future movies may solve that.  

what’s with the eyes? I dunno…

It won’t be for everyone. The wrap up can feel unsatisfying since it really didn’t teach us all that much. If you’re not a fan of vague narratives, you may find this movie annoying. On top of that, the actual plot is not that special, for the little we know about it. I would describe it as Suicide Circle condensed in a single hour and devoid of both it’s extravagance and wry humour.

But visual integration in the storytelling made it all worth while for me. Let me give you an example. The story tackles deep themes of existential questioning, emptiness and suicide. The idea that a person just sort of floats along life until they find themselves confronted to circumstances where they must choose to either fly or fall. Those moments that make you confront your very sense of being. The plot is simply an allegory of the idea. Both the protagonist and antagonist spend the movie facing this question in their own way.

Beyond that though, everything else reinforces the structure of long dead stillness punctuated by explosion of violent existence. Like I touched on above, movement is extremely subdued for the most part, except in those pivotal scenes where it becomes frantic. Characters are often silent and a lot of scenes have no dialogue but the few conversations that happen are tense and deeply meaningful.

it must be such a pain finding the right remote

Visually, there are repeated cluster motifs. And empty sky with a flock of birds. A bare wall with half a dozen clocks arranged together. A cluttered room where the feature is a wall filled with tv sets for no obvious reason. Shiki’s apartment is almost completely bare, her fridge empty, but she visits Touko in a cluttered, almost hoarder like office. Streets are either almost completely empty or heavily crowded. It’s a repeated all or nothing notion that goes hand in hand with the larger themes.

Another, more immediate element is the outlines. For the most part, they’re those thick and wavy watered-down lines. It makes everything seem slightly unsubstantial and ill-defined. Once again, there’s this element of unbearable lightness. Like nothing is really quite there, like it could just flitter away at any moment. But whenever the action or tension ramps up, those lines sharpen into fine well-defined clear edges. Everything comes into sudden focus. It subconsciously grabs your attentions and tells you this is an important moment. It also has the practical side effect of making action a lot clearer and easier to follow.

something’s about to happen

The color palette is subtly but completely redefined just about every other scene and more direct color cues are thrown in. Shiki wears the same blue kimono every day, but she puts on a red jacket over it once she decides to settle the score.

No one has pupils. This isn’t mentioned at all and could be dismissed as a quirky design choice to make things more *dark*. But I believe it’s an illustration of the general idea that people are empty shells and it takes personal strength and courage to find something to fill them with. That one is responsible for creating their own soul, lest they find their sense of self float away.

For me, this movie shined through its insistence of using every possible tool of the anime medium to add to its narrative, even though the narrative itself was not that stellar. And for this alone, I am more than happy to see what the other movies have to offer. It won’t be for everyone, but if it’s for you, it has a unique appeal.

if you do, could you tell us?

Favorite character: Touko

What this anime taught me: Thanatos is a minor figure in Greek mythology and a personification of death. I guess Shinigami… However, I think the title refers to Freud’s theory that humans have a “death drive”. Basically, an odd instinct towards risk and self-destruction that fights with our survival instincts. He called this drive Thanatos.

If you walk a mile in my shoes, you’ll end up in a bar

Suggested drink: Floating Goddess

Every time we get a close up of anyone’s eyes – take a sip

Every time the color palette switches – take a sip

Every time we see a body – shiver

Every time we see a ghost – liquid courage

Every time Tuko smokes – take a deep breath

Every time we see a doll or doll parts – take a sip

Every time anyone says “flying” – take a sip

Every time we see the news – pay attention

Every time anyone says “suicide” – take a sip

Every time we see Shiki’s apartment – get some ice cream

the little sketch at the beginning was funny!

I’m disappointed by how much is lost in the screen caps. The actual anime is more impressive.

    The Garden of Sinners: Thanatos -The First Bloom   Genre : Supernatural thriller, suspense, action, drama Movie: 50 minutes Studio: Ufotable   This is a story of a lonely girl and a determined doll.