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dickmedowndc · 2 months ago

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Storming in the Streets, Pt. III - Kon Kent x Reader

Word Count: 2,010

Summary: The first date had been a success, even with his friends peaking in, and the few that you had gone on after all ended the same way – fantastic. But noticing that he planned most of the dates, and that he had been busier than normal, you take it upon yourself to plan a nice night in to surprise him.

Notes: Requested by @ghosty910 (Wattpad). This will likely be the last part for some time – I never even expected this one to get past a part I. I may do some more pieces to it in the future however if there is enough of a request, but no promises.

<< Part I < Part II

…★…

There were the occasional downsides to dating a super, you had learned.

The conversation the two of you had once things started getting more serious, about potentially becoming a target; that had scared you, and you both had to stop to really think about things before deciding to continue. But even more than that, a lot of it came down to unpredictability.

The world didn’t end on a schedule. If it was though, you were really going to need to get your hands on it.

Villains and petty criminals really lacked any consideration for the personal lives of heroes (beyond bait), and you were convinced by this point that they just took turns being annoying to keep everyone as busy as they could.

It wasn’t like you were not aware of this possibility. Kon hadn’t been trying very hard to hide his identity the first day you met, having just come from a public appearance, and you had confronted him about being Superboy that very same night. Hence the reason you still did not know his friends' real names, since you only knew them by their hero alias's and were not in the business of prying into their civilian lives. If Kon ever slipped up here or there, well, you’d never say.

Still, things had been good. They had certainly been fun. And you felt safe with him. There had been no issues of recognition from others while the two of you were out. No interruptions in person. But here and there your date would be cut short when Kon would be called out because the world needed Superboy.

Not that you could fault the world for that.

But then there was one other issue as you thought about it. Kon tended to be the one taking the lead on planning dates. The coffee shop, the park, flying you out to more remote places if he could. But they had been less and less. Not for a lack of trying or interest! Kon had been quick to assure you of that. But he had been called out more often as of late, and it was starting to wear on him. He just had not had the energy he wanted to come and visit you, not that it stopped him from calling, even just to fall asleep to your voice.

That was the final straw for you one night. You were going on about your day after he had called you from what sounded to be a rough mission. He had given only vague details and asked you to tell him the first thing that came to mind. Apparently having not even made it off the couch he had immediately collapsed onto in a shapeless heap before he called. The only sound filtering from the speakers after that was snoring.

You hung up, determined to let him get as much rest as he could, and busied yourself with planning your next date, a day in where he could just relax and the two of you could enjoy some time together.

Planning what you were going to do was easy, planning when you were going to do it? Well, give the award for ‘biggest pain in the ass’ right to that attempt.

Kon could come over here and there, but it was never enough time to have a proper date – just to catch up and enjoy a little cuddling before he had to help with the farm, train, or save someone. So, during one of those visits, you had asked him for a favor.

“You want to... what?” Kon asked, giving you an odd look where you were practically molded into his side.

“I’m not asking for his number, just that I can talk to him from your phone. Or any of them, but I think Impulse is my best bet. You can even cover my eyes, so I don’t risk seeing his contact name!”

Kon seems to stutter over his words for a moment, still at a loss before he hands his phone over, the number already dialed.

It’s a voice you have only heard on the back of calls or on TV, and you know at once he’s rung Impulse like you had asked the moment you hear him greet your boyfriend. “Actually, this is Kon’s partner – I asked him if I could talk to you.”

If you didn’t have the speedster’s attention before then you certainly did now, because you can hear the excitement in his voice as he addresses you. “Oh, finally ready to meet everyone?”

“No, I – wait is that a thing already?” Your question is mainly directed at your boyfriend who can only nod before you turn your attention back to the phone. “No, I had a question, and a favor to ask, I guess.”

“Ask away!”

“There’s a training day coming up soon, right?”

You can hear Impulse confirm, and you can see the utter look of confusion on Kon's face as you speak.

“Is there any way you think you can get him out of it?”

“Ohhh, got something planned?” He seems all too keen to get the details out of you, but you can’t give him too much, you want the night to be at least a bit of a surprise.

“Actually yes, but I can’t find the time for it. I was gonna try and get him the day off.”

“Consider it done. But why not just ask him?”

You look Kon dead in the eye as you respond into the phone. “So a certain someone can’t feel guilty for taking a personal day.”

Kon rolls his eyes and tightens his grip on you, deciding not to interrupt.

You’re pulled back by the sound of the speedster talking. “Done - BUT!”

You snort at the sound of Kon’s distraught “oh no” muttered under his breath.

Impulse doesn't hear it. “We get to meet you!”

You shoot a look over to your boyfriend, one eyebrow raised before he motions to you. This is your choice. “If I get to steal Kon away for most of the day for a date then you’ve got a deal.”

“Perfect.” is all that you hear before the line goes dead.

You stare at the phone for a moment before looking up to Kon, “should I be concerned about the deal I just made?”

He huffs, but you can see the amused grin hiding just beneath the fake annoyance. “Maybe. Just remember that you agreed.”

“Well, I thought I would have met them sooner, considering our first date and all.”

Kon hums, head back before pulling you flush against his chest. “I was enjoying having you to myself while I could.”

You can’t help but laugh as you wiggle around, determined to make yourself comfortable before peaking up at him with a far too mischievous grin. “So, I hear you’ve got a day off coming up?”

Kon barks out a laugh before lazily opening his eyes to raise his brow at you. “I think I might.”

“Fancy a date?”

His gaze softens as he rests his head against you. “I’d love that. Do I need to dress up?”

“Nope!” you chirp, popping the E with a self-satisfied grin before sneaking a quick kiss on his cheek. “It’s a date you can be comfortable for. One you should be dressed comfortably for.”

“You know you didn’t have to do this?”

“I know,” you tap his chest lightly before planting another kiss on his cheek, enjoying the way his face scrunches in response, “but I wanted to plan one of our dates. To give you some time to relax.”

“This is a pretty good time to relax, too.”

“Then how about a nap? Before you have to head home for chores.”

“A nap sounds great.” he admits, letting his body slump over you despite your protests about being stuck.

It’s a few more minutes of half-hearted wrestling before you’re both comfortable and Kon is passed out almost immediately. Not that you mind being a heated pillow trapped under an attractive superhero.

With the day confirmed, you just have to get a few more things ready for the date.

You find soon after that you’re timing to ask could not have been more perfect, because the next day there are a slew of criminals coming back out of the woodwork like termites as soon as a heatwave hits. It adds to your conviction that these criminals have a shared calendar for this mayhem. But it also keeps Superboy and his team busy for the entire rest of the week – barely stopping a day before their planned training seminar.

You had meant to call him that night to confirm if he was still coming over, but your attempts to reach him were fruitless, all you could do was hope that he would be over the next day and set up as you had planned.

And set up you did – a magnificent fort with a nest of pillows, blankets, a bouquet of flowers, and your comfiest hoodies – that had been stolen from him. The TV now moved to the ground with plenty of movies; candles lit around the apartment, or ready to be, in scents you knew he loved; and all that was left was to attempt to cook a meal for him as well. You could always order pizza or something else out later depending on how late he could stay or how hungry he got, but cooking a meal for him seemed to be the best idea you could think of it you were already staying in. After all, he could eat out any other day he wanted.

It was right as the meal was slid into the oven that there was a knocking at the door, followed by a few more raps like a sad alley cat begging to be let inside. You can only snort as you open the door, only to yelp a second later when he has his arms around you and is picking you up.

“How is the most beautiful person in the world?” Kon’s voice is muffled, but still easily discernable as he nudges the door closed behind him, still refusing to release you.

“Probably sore – I saw him get thrown through a wall during a fight yesterday on live TV.”

He let out a long sigh before setting you down, forehead pressed to yours. “That wasn’t even the worst part of the week.”

“Well, lucky that I planned today like I did. No public appearances, no fancy dressing up and rubbing elbows, no waiting in lines or getting jumped and tossed around like pizza dough. None of it.” You grin, arm swung out to emphasize your point. “Just you, me, and a guaranteed night to ourselves for as long as you want to stay.”

“That you made a deal with the devil to secure.”

“And that is for future me to worry about.” You roll your eyes, spotting his amused grin, before finally pulling away and leading him to the floor when the nest has been prepared. “Pick a movie, my love, and let me check on the food – and I won't let you forget the flowers I got you either, you can grab them before you leave.”

“You got me flowers too?” he asks, voice soft as he peaks around you, back at the table he had overlooked.

“You get flowers all the time.”

“Sure, but these are the first I’ve gotten from you. It's different.” He reaches up, grabbing your hand gently and tugging you to look towards him.

It is a little hard, when he has such a sincere look on his face, to keep eye contact. It leaves you flushed from head to toe.

“Thank you for doing this, really.” His other hand comes up to close around yours fully before he leans forward and kisses the back of your hand. “I love this.”

“Well, we still have the rest of the night, too.” You assure, squeezing his hand once before you reluctantly pull back to check on the food.

#nicole writes #dc x reader #conner kent x reader #superboy x reader #kon kent x reader

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bangpop91 · 2 months ago

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Growing Pains

This is my story for @bucktommypositivityweek round 2, day 3.

Today's prompt: missing moments.

This is my take on Buck and Tommy’s first time having sex, as well as spending the night together.

Buck : Want to come over and have dinner and watch a movie after your shift

He sends the text before he can overthink it. Now he wishes he had over-thought the message a little bit, because it sounds awkward and formal. Which is at least better than sending Tommy a text asking him to Netflix and chill. He used to be good at this, being cool and flirty. But now he doesn't know to tell Tommy that he wants to spend time with him, dates, stolen kisses, cuddling. But he's also ready For the chill part of Netflix and Chill.

❤️ Tomm y ❤️ : Of course, Darlin. I'll pick up take out on my way over. How does Chinese sound?

Buck: extra crab rangoons? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

❤️ Tommy ❤️ : Of course. I would never forget your extra crab rangoons.

He's nervous in a way he hasn't been since he was in his early twenties and realized that he's a good looking guy who's good at sex. He never really had to try that hard to get girls interested in sleeping with him. Even after that, after Abby, he wasn't worried about turning a casual night in into a sexy night in. It just happened. But him and Tommy are taking things slow because he's never been with a dude and every time he thinks Tommy might be taking things in a direction that leads to them having sex, Tommy pulls away and goes home.

So yes he is nervous and doesn't know what to do, he tried texting Eddie for advice which in hindsight was a stupid choice.

Eddie: 😂😂😂😂😂

Eddie: why would I know how to get a dude to have sex with you

Eddie: have you tried taking your shirt off? Marisol taking her shirt off always works for me

Buck frowned at the messages from his best friend before responding.

Buck: what about when Jesus is watching you?

Eddie: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Read the rest under the cut or on A03

He considers texting Hen for advice but it seems like a 50/50 shot if Hen would be more or less helpful than Eddie. There is no way he is going to text Maddie because as helpful as his sister would be, she would tell Chimney and Chimney would inevitably wind up accidentally telling Tommy which would be even more embarrassing. He's debating asking Josh but Josh is Maddie's best friend and would lead to the same outcome of Maddie telling Chimney.

He thinks about the things he'd liked. He thinks of the petty matching sets of lingerie that Ali and Taylor would wear. It's not a perfect equivalence, he doesn't know if seeing him in lingerie would actually be a thing for Tommy, but he does have a few pairs of boxer briefs that according to Taylor and Natalia made his ass look biteable, and hug his dick in a way that he thinks makes his bulge look good.

So he puts on his best pair of black boxer briefs, before debating what to wear over them. He knows gray sweatpants are a thing people consider sexy, but he doesn't want to look under dressed either. They haven't gotten to the hanging out in their lazy day clothing stage yet. Which might be ridiculous since he'd taken Tommy as his date to his sister's wedding, but hasn't let Tommy see him in his ratty sweatpants and hoodies. And Tommy will be coming from work so it's not like he needs to be dressed for a night out.

He can do this. He puts on a pair of jeans that he's had for years, they've been washed so many times that they are faded, and distressed in the knees, the denim has gone soft and they make his thighs look good. Next he pulls on a soft and very snuggly, slightly too big hoodie forgoing anything under it. He didn't realize how long he had spent agonizing over his clothes until he heard Tommy knocking on the door of his loft.

“Shit.” He shouted into the empty loft racing down the stairs to open the door for Tommy. He really should give Tommy his spare key. “Hi babe.” he said breathlessly, yanking open the door making Tommy laugh as he stepped inside giving him a quick kiss hello, his arms loaded down with takeout.

“Hi Darlin. Where do you want me to set this?” Tommy asked, holding up the plastic bags filled with delicious smelling food.

“We can eat on the couch.” Buck responded sheepishly with a shrug. “You want a beer? I picked up those Brette Rosés that you like.” Tommy made a soft humming noise in the back of his throat as he sat down the bags of takeout on the counter before crowding into his space smiling at him.

“You hated them.” He did, but Tommy loves them and he wants to make Tommy happy and feel at home in his loft. He's blushing and knows it as he shrugs, but Tommy is smiling even brighter as he leans In kissing his cheeks. “You're adorable, Evan. I'd love one.”

They settle onto the couch with their cartons of Chinese take out and beers. Buck has Tommy pick the movie, because his boyfriend is very opinionated about movies and what movies it is a crime that Buck hasn't seen.

“Nothing sad tonight.” He tells Tommy firmly not over Tommy making him watch Steel Magnolias. Tommy laughs but agrees nothing sad and puts on Bringing Up Baby. The movie is funny and engaging as they eat dinner with chopsticks feeding each other bits and pieces of food, but also sweet enough that once They have finished eating they can curl up in the corner of the couch with a second beer each, cuddling and trading kisses. It eases the nerves in his chest because he loves kissing Tommy. He loves the way his lips are slightly chapped and his stubble feels against his face. He loves the gentle way Tommy uses his massive hands to cradle his face, or play with the short hairs at the base of his scalp.

He drags his hand up Tommy's thigh making his boyfriend moan into his mouth before starting to pull back,

“Evan-” He cuts his boyfriend off.

“I want to have sex with you!” He blurts out with a wince, there went any attempt at subtle seduction, what's worse is the fact Tommy was smiling. He kind of wants to melt into the couch and die of embarrassment.

“We can do that.” Tommy says, still smiling as he turns off the tv, leading Buck up the stairs to his bed. This is easy laying side by side with each other holding each other close, trading slow kisses, letting their hands slowly explore each other's bodies. This is familiar and comfortable. “What do you want tonight?” Tommy asks between kisses, his calloused fingers playing with the soft skin of Buck's belly under his hoodie.

“To have sex.” He paused awkwardly. “With you.”

“Well I was hoping it was going to be with me.” Tommy responds dryly before they both start laughing which is different because he’s never laughed during sex. Sex had always been this serious thing, it had never been silly though. But now Tommy is laying on his side, propped up on his elbow looking down at him adoringly and smiling while playing with the hem of his hoodie. “I mean what would you like to do?” Buck bit his lip nervously shrugging, he hadn't gotten that far in his thinking. He just knows he wants to experience this new intimacy with Tommy. So he takes a deep breath.

“I want us to be naked.” Buck starts,

“That's generally how it goes, yes.” Tommy teases him again and they are both laughing again, further easing the nerves that usually accompany having sex with someone new for the first time. Someone you really care about, who you could see yourself having a future with.

“Be nice.” He chides his boyfriend playfully, making them laugh again, and it allows Buck to relax fully, slipping his fingers under Tommy's shirt experimenting with touching the skin there. “And I want to just see what happens. Do what feels good.”

Their kisses are slow as they explore each other. Buck thinks this is what his first time should have been like, it should have felt tender. Of course there is heat as well, the way Tommy had groaned pressing kisses over his chest and collarbone after having removed Buck's hoodie, the way his hands groped and tugged him closer possessively. How he had moaned and buried his face into Tommy’s chest hair, nuzzling and placing kisses to the skin.

He gasps rocking against Tommy's muscular thighs when they are down to their underwear, unbelievably turned by how easily Tommy hand manhandled him, preening when Tommy moaned seeing him in his tiny black briefs, grabbing at his ass possessively grinding their hips together and swallowing each other's moans. Eventually he gets Tommy on his back, insisting on giving His boyfriend a blow job.

“Evan, you don't have to if you want to.” Tommy says softly, the way he does when he doesn't want Buck to feel forced or like they have to rush anything.

“I want to.” Buck promises from where he's made himself at home between Tommy's legs and nuzzling his neck. He takes his time trailing kisses down Tommy’s chest, taking inventory of the places that make Tommy sigh and moan with pleasure, how his ribs are ticklish making him squirm and giggle, until he finally gets to the band of Tommy's army green briefs. He takes a deep breath and starts pulling them off of Tommy who lifts his hips up to help.

He knows Tommy isn't small, he's felt Tommy's cock a few times while they were making out and one memorable time when Tommy had been spooning him on Tommy’s big comfortable couch while they watched a movie. But seeing Tommy fully bare for the first time is… overwhelming. It's not like Tommy has some monster cock or something but he's definitely bigger than average. Just like the rest of Tommy, he is just big . And Buck has the terrifying thought of how in the hell would Tommy ever fit inside of him.

“Evan, it’s okay, you don't have too-”

“I want to.” He insists, cutting Tommy off, “I just…” He stares, trying to figure out where to start, which maybe isn't the best plan with how Tommy is squirming nervously.

“Can I take yours off too?” Tommy asks gesturing to Evan's own briefs. “I'm starting to feel a little self conscious being the only one naked here.” He nods, swallowing thickly when Tommy uses his impressive core strength to sit up while holding onto Buck's hips, kissing him while slowly pushing the black briefs from his hips.

“You're beautiful, Tommy.” He finds himself saying without thinking, cupping Tommy's face between his hands. He likes the way Tommy is blushing and a little shy. He wants to make Tommy blush like that again and again. He wants to make Tommy feel beautiful.

“So are you, Evan.” He helps Tommy lay back and takes a deep breath. He takes his time pressing soft kisses and licking over Tommy's cock, trying to catalog what gets the most reaction out of Tommy while also gathering himself to overcome his anxiety about not being good enough for Tommy.

When he does finally wrap his lips around Tommy and begins bobbing his head, he gains confidence from the way Tommy moans and his hips twitch holding himself back from fucking up into Buck's mouth. It isn't perfect, he accidentally uses teeth at first making Tommy wince, and then he gets too ambitious trying to take Tommy deeper and winds up gagging. His jaw aches, but he likes this. He wants to keep going until he has perfected this new skill. He wants to make Tommy come in his mouth.

“Hey, come up here, I want to try something.” Tommy says gently tugging his hair. They wind up on their sides, Tommy spooned up behind him, fucking between his thighs while they worked together strocking Buck's cock to bring them both to orgasm. It's not perfect, not yet. But it's the best sex he's ever had, because it's with Tommy.

“Spend the night?” He asks in the quiet of the bed after they've finished making love, laying in bed facing each other like two parenthesis trading soft kisses.

“Of course.” Tommy answers without hesitation. It's earnest, like there is nowhere he would rather be than in this bed with Buck. The space between them closes as they curl up together, holding each other close, and trading kisses until they fall asleep.

It is, admittedly, the worst sleep either man has ever gotten. The queen sized bed was too small for both of them so they seemed to always be kicking each other. Tommy snores loudly, he runs hot, and can't sleep when he is. Buck is a blanket hog who likes to starfish out on his stomach in the middle of the bed. But he knows that he'd rather spend the rest of his life sleeping like shit as long as he is doing it next to Tommy.

Luckily, it only takes them a few more nights to figure out how to share a bed, which results in the best sleep they've ever had.

#bucktommypositivityweek #bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #lauren writes

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squadrah · 6 months ago

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La Squadra in detective fiction

Giving a variety of flavors for each, I've been absorbing Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie stuff like a sponge lately.

RISOTTO

As a detective: One of those grimy hard-boiled types who has to get his hands dirty in more ways than one to get his evidence, though when it comes to obtaining information, his intimidating stature and demeanor get results very quickly. When he makes his interest in the case known, only the most hardened culprits stand a chance of not keeling over from heartburn on the spot, leading to fast results.

As a mere suspect: Interrogating him is like trying to squeeze blood from a stone. He's not very observant or judgmental in general, so unless he had a grudge, it's difficult to get his opinion on anything or anyone, and his taciturn nature compels him to stay quiet if he thinks that what he knows can't possibly have any bearing on the case. He's mostly right there because he spends too much time in his own head.

As the culprit: Too obvious, say the sleuths, especially if the murder was violent, so he's often taken up and dismissed with the feeling that his being the solution sounds too easy. It would take spending time with him to realize that he has a very smooth touch and doesn't need his brutal strength to get the job done, though that depends on the victim. Would only do premeditated murder born out of a grudge.

---

FORMAGGIO

As a detective: He's one of those street-smart freelancers around town who can't resist a fun challenge when they have nothing else to do, especially if there is some tangible incentive (money or sex will get him every time). He knows a lot of ruffians about who may help him in the investigation as a favor, and gets a kick out of bullying the culprits while he figures out what authority to pawn them off on.

As a mere suspect: Unless he really liked the victim, he will not take the case seriously and may end up throwing unnecessary suspicion on himself by making tasteless jokes and sounding rather careless about it all. When his past comes under scrutiny, he will either come up perfectly harmless or having engaged in something petty that complicates the case, but had nothing to do with the actual murder.

As the culprit: He can live down a lot of things, so only monetary gain could truly induce him to take a life. He's quick and dexterous (think him tossing that tiny car into his victim's drink in the anime) and would probably add poison to the victim's drink, reasoning rightly that nobody would ever profile him as a poisoner without tangible evidence and the less he interacted with the victim, the better.

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PROSCIUTTO

As a detective: He's the classic type who needs to be propositioned and well compensated throughout, and in return he always gets clean-cut results. He'll consider the clues and employ his powers of deduction for the most part, but at critical junctures, he will expose himself to danger in the knowledge that he's perfectly capable of wrecking his opponents until they are only too glad to be arrested.

As a mere suspect: Probably the most reliable witness on the premises because he'll stick to the point and doesn't care to embellish the details, so he can come across as rather crude. He's just uncanny enough to arouse some doubt initially, but the more other people are interviewed, the more his honesty shines through. He will resent being pestered beyond the first interview, though.

As the culprit: Let's face it, he would murder for any number of reasons, personal or otherwise, and he would keep it very simple with a shot to the head. Being so thorough and technical, he could probably make even a spur of the moment crime seem premeditated, and if he were to commit a premeditated crime, chances are he would never be found out because he knows when to leave it alone.

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PESCI

As a detective: I could picture him as a low-rank police officer who goes to process the crime scene, spots something small or out of place that puzzles him but has been overlooked by others as seemingly irrelevant, and keeps dwelling on that one point until he gets the wind up the investigators and they check on his line, only to solve the case and take the credit because Pesci's too shy to step up.

As a mere suspect: One of the worst mumblers you've ever met, and the more he's questioned, the more flustered he gets until he starts misremembering details. You would have to calm him down and reassure him continuously to get the full story, but it's worth it because he's an excellent observer and tends to eschew speculation or personal opinion in favor of what he's absolutely certain of.

As the culprit: There are two ways he would commit murder - it would either have to be in the heat of the moment, half passion and half accident, or because he had been pushed beyond his limit and something finally snapped inside. He would either panic afterwards and make mistakes, or cover it up with a lot of cold common sense; whichever way it happened, he would only confess if broken down.

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GHIACCIO

As a detective: Every episode would center around his compiling a conspiracy board and ranting to himself like he's Charlie raving to Mac about Pepe Silvia. As he rants and storms we would get brief flashbacks or enactments of whatever event or connection he's dwelling on until the board was complete and the mystery solved; last scene he's beating the shit out of the perp in a parking lot.

As a mere suspect: He's incredibly high-strung and way too loud, and he goes off on such violent tangents that it's hard to keep him to the point, and even then he's too opinionated to be of any real use. He teeters between focused and accurate (if he was invested in some particular detail at the time) and completely unreliable (mostly blinded by anger or overwhelmed just trying to manage himself).

As the culprit: No premeditation about this one; it would honestly stress him too much to plan out anything. If he killed, he would lash out and keep going until he spent his wrath, and then dispose of the body as quickly as possible. He's small and vocal enough that he would probably get overlooked as someone incapable of this much brutality, surely, but his temper would eventually give him away.

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MELONE

As a detective: He's like if Jane Marple was a transmasc scene girl; he'll get involved in a murder and next thing you know he's getting his hair dyed at the local salon and getting every bit of gossip out of the suspects' weed smoking girlfriends, and then typing it all up at a café until he's satisfied in his mind about who did it and how. Will then drop some hints to whoever's in charge and go on his merry way.

As a mere suspect: He cannot stop going on tangents but in quite a different way from Ghiaccio: he usually has some interesting trivia or specialized knowledge to share, and gives the investigators plenty of food for thought. Loves to talk and can be consulted over and over, but he will get more and more abstract as time goes on and share his own theories based on blood type and horoscope, so be careful.

As the culprit: Being an invalid, he would often be treated as frail and incapable, but he has a very calculating mind and decent mobility, so if he decided to murder, he would probably stage a convincing accident to happen somewhere away from him. In a pinch he might resort to weaponizing his medication as poison, hoping that suspicion would fall on someone else with knowledge and access.

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ILLUSO

As a detective: I could see him as an accidental detective/informant - he's nosy and loves to dig up dirt on people, but sometimes this leads to his uncovering something that should have been left well alone, and then he has no choice but to quickly pass all his material over to some competent authority before anyone might come after his snooping ass. Justice is honestly an afterthought for him.

As a mere suspect: He's always pegged as a shady character and rightfully so, but he is surprised and offended every single time it happens. He's somewhat defensive, especially when he gets nervous, but where he feels safe, he will unload a lot of sordid details about the victim and everyone else involved, and insinuates as much as he can. Will then make the investigators swear they didn't hear it from him.

As the culprit: He would prefer to premeditate, not only to indulge in the fantasy of retribution and his own cleverness, but also because it seems safer to have a plan of action. He might stage an accident on the spot and then give a sob story when interrogated, or go with a good old fashioned overdose of whatever, but if he were cornered, he would strike impulsively out of fear, not caring what method he used.

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SORBET

As a detective: This one is a slow and quiet thinker. He will take a gander at the crime scene and address questions to those involved, but seems to involve himself as little as possible on the whole, and thus ends up surprising everyone when he finally divulges his plausible theories and more than plausible solutions, mostly based on first impression, psychology, and focusing on the money motive.

As a mere suspect: He's balefully apathetic and uncooperative, always asking if he could go now, and often insists of having seen and head nothing. Underneath it all, he's either neutral or contemptuous of those involved, or deeply attached to the culprit and boldly, if placidly, covering for them every step of the way. Has very little regard for human life and infinite regard for an inheritance.

As the culprit: One of the few who would have no qualms about choking their victim with their bare hands, and it's always about money one way or another. He would make a very thorough clean-up and face the interrogation in his usual manner, possibly laying the apathy on even thicker than usual. You could only get him with damning evidence, and even then he would never own to it.

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GELATO

As a detective: He would be such a jolly fella, just a funny little guy grinning widely and asking the most uncanny questions, and tapping you on the arm as he made a joke about hanging you based on what you had just told him about your relationship to the victim. Will casually hound the suspect all friendly like, and then cook their goose at the public barbecue for the entire world to marvel at the roast.

As a mere suspect: His degree of familiarity with the authorities would be quite jarring, and he would keep asking questions instead of answering them, not even for the sake of evasion but because he's excited about the crime and wants to hear what the sleuths think. He will appear to know too much without actually knowing anything, and let's face it, he'd probably be the second person to die because of it.

As the culprit: He will do nothing by halves, and if he wants to commit murder, then by damn it will be a freak show with weird props and arson and plenty of red herrings scattered about to keep the investigators on their toes. He would never get away with it simply because everyone's testimonies would line up about what a lethal trickster he is, but he would go down as a sensation and love it.

#jjba #la squadra #risotto nero #formaggio #prosciutto #pesci #ghiaccio #melone #illuso #sorbet #gelato #squadrah original #enjoy a long post at last #i can't say i'm back from hiatus but i finally had some inspiration and decided to go hogwild with it #felt really good to let off some steam

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inawickedlittletown · 6 months ago

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You Can Find Me Where the Skies are Blue (BuckTommy fic) - 5/7

Summary:

Soulmates are rare. So rare that it's actually incredible that Buck has two soulmate couples in his life. Statistics tell him it's very unlikely for him to meet his soulmate. Of course, then he meets Tommy. Too bad it happens at the worst possible moment.

Canon compliant soulmate AU where Buck is still a mess and Tommy is still very understanding.

Words: 4,140

Ao3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Eddie had a calendar on his fridge. Buck was very familiar with it considering how often he was recruited to help out with taking Christopher to therapy or other after school things when Eddie couldn’t or Carla wasn’t available. Buck often featured on the calendar too when he and Chris had a planned zoo or museum trip. There hadn’t been one in a while, admittedly, but that wasn’t all on Buck. Even when he made plans with Eddie, Eddie would sometimes add it onto the calendar. So, he really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Tommy’s name appear on it. Circled for next Thursday for the basketball pick up game that Eddie had been trying to get Buck interested in for months.

“What are you doing?” Chris asked.

“Uh…nothing,” Buck said. “Did you want a snack? I think we can get away with just ordering pizza for dinner unless you want me to cook something?”

“Pizza’s fine,” Chris said. “I finished all my homework.”

“I guess that means it’s time for your surprise,” Buck said.

“Surprise?” Chris asked. “I thought we’d just play video games.”

It was strange being a part of a kid’s life, to see him grow and change and become less of a kid. Buck sometimes couldn’t believe the changes that had happened in Chris since he first met him. Sometimes, he did still miss the more kid version of Chris that wasn’t yet interested in girls.

“Well, I thought we could do a lego kit,” Buck said.

Chris did get excited at that and Buck grinned. It was as much for Chris as it was for himself and to maybe annoy Eddie a little. Like, what if Buck accidentally left a lego piece or two somewhere where Eddie and Eddie alone could step on it. It felt maybe a little petty, but then Eddie was out with his soulmate and Buck was babysitting. Yes, it was Chris, and Buck loved spending time with Chris, but it didn’t stop Buck from being a little annoyed.

Buck had left the box in the living room and he directed Chris towards it.

“It’s Stitch,” Chris said and Buck watched as he opened the packaging.

“You get started, I’ll call the pizza place.”

He wandered back to the kitchen, his phone in hand. He’d thought about calling Tommy earlier and yet hadn’t done it. He thought that his text earlier in the day had probably put across how Buck felt even when he didn’t say it outright.

His eyes went back to the calendar. Tonight’s plans weren’t on there, so it left him wondering about what else Eddie and Tommy had planned. It really was not fair. It was Buck’s non-existent calendar that should have been filled with plans with Tommy.

He made the call for the pizza, grabbed himself a glass of water, and then cut up some carrots and celery to bring out to Chris. He put on a smile as he headed out and found Chris with the instruction booklet and several packages of pieces already open. He’d picked the living room coffee table as his place to build and was already seated on a cushion.

Buck joined him and set down the plate on the table.

“Did you get pepperoni?” Chris asked.

“Sure did, kid. Now, where are we starting with this?”

As they put lego pieces together, Buck answered questions about flying in a helicopter into a hurricane. Chris had definitely already gotten most of the story from Eddie.

“It must be cool being able to fly a helicopter,” Chris remarked.

“It is,” Buck said. “Tommy is very skilled. You know he landed the helicopter on the capsized ship?”

“Is that the same Tommy my dad’s hanging out with?”

“Sure is,” Buck said and he hoped he didn’t sound too sour.

He distracted Chris away from talking about Tommy by asking about the next few pieces they had to put together.

—

“So,” Eddie said, “you’ve known all this time you’re soulmates. I mean, since we flew out to rescue Cap and Athena.”

“Yup,” Tommy said.

“Wow. Did not see that coming.”

Tommy stared out the window away from Eddie.

“It’s great,” Eddie said. “I mean you guys are soulmates. That’s awesome. I feel bad now, not inviting Buck to come tonight.”

“You think?”

They were silent for a while. Even though it was late, LA traffic was no joke.

“What I don’t get is why neither of you said anything,” Eddie said and Tommy thought he could detect a tone of hurt. “Buck’s my best friend, why wouldn’t he say anything? Looking back…well, I get why he was asking about how the fight went. And why he got a little weird when I mentioned showing you the Chevelle.” Eddie winced.

Tommy groaned.

“We just met, Eddie. I wasn’t going to share something like having met my soulmate with you, no offense. I’ve only told one person. And as for Evan, I don’t know why he didn’t tell you. Maybe it’s that I’m a guy or he hasn’t had the time to.”

“Maybe,” Eddie said. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened tonight. I really did invite Hen and Chim. I was going to invite Buck but I didn’t want to ask Marisol to watch Chris again and Chris hasn’t seen Buck in a little while. I knew he’d been wanting to see him. I wasn’t really thinking, I guess. I should have. He’s probably more than a little annoyed with me.”

Tommy looked towards Eddie again. “I think your apology should be aimed at Evan.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to him.”

They drove in silence for a while again, until Eddie started to tap his fingers on the steering wheel.

“What?” Tommy asked.

“Buck is…he’ll understand, but he has some — I don’t want to call them issues. He just has had a lot of people leave him.”

“By people you mean his past relationships,” Tommy said even though he couldn’t be sure.

Eddie nodded. “Not just that…and I’ll let him speak for himself. I just want you to understand that him having a soulmate does mean a lot to him. To finally have someone that puts him first, because that’s — that’s what you have to do.”

“Okay,” Tommy said.

When they got to Eddie’s house, he was unprepared by how unprepared he was. The whole way over, he hadn’t even thought about what he would say to Evan or even what he expected once he saw him. It had been different when he thought he was going to see him at the bar somehow. They would have small talk to fall back on and buffers in the form of Hen, Chim and Eddie.

“Hey, you got this,” Eddie said. “He is your soulmate after all. And he’s pretty awesome, he wouldn’t be my best friend otherwise.”

“I know,” Tommy said.

Tommy got out of the car after Eddie punched his shoulder lightly.

“How do you want to do this?” Eddie asked as they walked up.

Tommy really should have been thinking about that. One thing he didn’t want was to have any type of conversation with Evan in Eddie’s house.

“How about you tell Evan I’m waiting for him out here,” Tommy said.

“I can do that,” Eddie said.

Tommy watched as Eddie went inside. The house was ranch style, a single main floor and probably a basement. Maybe the smallest crawl space of an attic. It was a typical LA house. Out front, Evan’s Jeep was parked and Tommy walked across the grass to get there, feeling better about waiting there than right by Eddie’s front door. He leaned his back on the car and waited.

—

Buck heard the lock on the front door turn and then the door open. Chris was distracted trying to find a piece in a bag, so Buck stood up. There was no way Eddie was back already and he didn’t think Marisol had a key. There was always Eddie’s tia or Carla, but he couldn’t think why they would be stopping by. Buck wouldn’t have been babysitting if either were available.

He couldn’t imagine that someone was breaking in, but it was definitely a possibility. His phone was already in hand ready to call 9-1-1, and he grabbed the nearest thing to use as a weapon which turned out to be a lamp. He edged to the doorway and almost hit Eddie with the lamp. Maybe it would have been well deserved.

“Oh my god,” Eddie said, scrambling backwards. “What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you?” Buck shot back.

“A lot. A lot is wrong with me,” Eddie said. “Which isn’t the point. Why are you holding my lamp like that?”

Buck walked back to the table he’d grabbed it from to place back. “I thought you were breaking in.”

“Using the front door and a key?”

“I’m just looking out for your kid,” Buck said. “Why are you back so early? Did something happen?”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and he looked guilty. It was weird when he could see Chris in Eddie instead of the other way around.

“Tommy told me,” Eddie said.

“He told you what exactly?” Buck crossed his arms over his chest.

Eddie looked right at him, his brown eyes boring into Buck. Buck knew before he said it, and he had no idea how to feel. A part of him was relieved, an even bigger part hated it. Even more, he hated the way that Eddie was looking at him like some kind of kicked puppy.

“He told me that you’re his soulmate,” Eddie said. “He’s, uh, he’s waiting outside for you.”

Buck didn’t understand.

“Did something happen at…what was it, karaoke?”

“Other than me not inviting you along like Tommy thought I had,” Eddie said and he winced. “He told me to invite everyone, but I was an idiot and I needed a babysitter. And in my defense, Chris did miss you.”

Buck had no idea what to do with any of what Eddie was saying. He remembered when Eddie brought up his plans with Tommy and how it had almost seemed like an invitation until it changed into asking Buck to babysit. Buck had been so excited at the prospect of seeing Tommy, but Eddie had crushed that and Buck could admit that a part of him had wondered if Tommy didn’t want to hang out with him like he did Eddie. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Buck said.

“Maybe that I’m a horrible friend,” Eddie said. “Really, Buck, I’m sorry. I’m also happy you found your soulmate. That must feel amazing.”

“Confusing more like,” Buck said.

“Buck, is that the pizza?” Christopher called out.

“Uh. No. Sorry, bud, your dad’s home early. Just, uh, give us a minute.”

“Confusing because it’s a guy? Or because he’s your soulmate?” Eddie asked and after a moment, he added, “or confusing because I’ve been taking up every spare moment of his time lately?”

Buck let out a strained chuckle. “That didn’t help,” he said. “And yeah the whole my soulmate is a dude thing is a factor. I’m not gay. I’m…you know who I am, Eddie. And he’s — well, he’s Tommy Kinard LAFD pilot. Even you were kind of blown away by how impressive he is, so like why the hell am I his soulmate?”

Eddie closed the space between them and his hand grasped Buck’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s because you’re just as impressive, Buck.”

“I doubt that. Should have been you…you guys have so much in common. I’m not anything.”

Eddie scoffed. “I have never seen you down on yourself like this before. What’s going on Buck?”

“I guess…I guess I’ve never wanted something to go right the way I want this to go right. But I’m still, I don’t — I don’t know, I’m just maybe a little overwhelmed.”

“By the guy thing?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

Eddie’s hand gave his shoulder a squeeze. “How about you don’t make him wait any longer.”

Buck had almost forgotten. Tommy was outside. He was outside waiting for Buck. How long had it been since Eddie arrived? Five, maybe ten minutes, and he’d kept Tommy outside waiting.

“I should—” he pointed at the door.

“Go,” Eddie said. “I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

Buck couldn’t leave without first seeing Chris, so he went back to the living room.

“Chris, I’m heading out.”

“No,” Chris said. “No, you can’t. We haven’t even finished Stitch.”

“Chris,” Eddie said with that dad warning tone.

Chris huffed, and Buck knew he’d have to make up for leaving.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, kid, but we’ll hang out soon. There’s just something I have to do tonight. But my next day off we can do whatever you want. Alright?”

Chris could still be stubborn when he wanted to be, but he shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not going to wait for you to come back to finish Stitch.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to. Send me pictures when you finish it.”

“Okay. See you, Buck.”

“See you, kid.”

He gathered his coat, put his shoes back on, and then after taking one last encouraging smile from Eddie, he opened the door and stepped outside. He didn’t see Tommy at first, not until he shifted his weight. Tommy was leaning back on Buck’s car, and he looked ridiculously dashing. Buck knew his heart was beating fast, could hear it as he crossed Eddie’s front lawn. Buck had to pause a moment just to look at him and then he started towards him.

“Hi,” he said when he was within hearing distance.

—

“Hi,” Tommy said.

Evan took a few more steps, bringing him closer. “You, uh, you told Eddie.”

There wasn’t a lot of light out there, but he could still make out enough of Evan. His t-shirt was askew and his jacket slung over his shoulder. He looked delectable and cute all at once.

“Yeah. I’m sorry…but I’m also not sorry,” Tommy said.

Evan nodded. He took another step forward. “I should have told him. I had every opportunity, but—” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, I barely managed to tell my sister. Hen only knows because I needed your number. I told Bobby too. Didn’t mean to. Only Hen really knows it’s you. Eddie was…well, he kept talking about you guys doing stuff and it felt strange to bring it up…and I don’t know, I was jealous.”

“Jealous,” Tommy repeated. “Evan, there’s no…me and Eddie hanging out, that wasn’t about you.”

“I know. I know that,” Evan said. He hung his head, moved a bit closer. “My feelings about all that, that was more about me than about you and Eddie.”

Tommy had never known someone that could be so many things at once. He could tell that Evan was nervous. He was also just direct and honest. When Evan looked up at him again, he even met Tommy’s eyes dead on and even in the dark he could tell that they shone. This man would be the end of him and what an end to have.

“I should have told him you’re my soulmate,” Evan said. “At some point I just felt like he didn’t deserve to have that information. I know it’s crazy, but—” he shrugged and let out a breath.

“Well, he knows now,” Tommy said.

“Yeah,” Buck said. “He does. I’m not…I’m not upset he knows.”

“Good,” Tommy said. “I hope you’re not mad at him.”

Evan chuckled. “I — no, guess not really. Chris and I were building Lego Stitch. I was planning on leaving a couple of lego pieces for him to step on in his room, but I’m not really mad. I get it, you know, why you’d want to hang out with Eddie. You don’t have to tell me he’s great. I’ve known that since the first day I worked with him.”

Tommy chuckled. The wind picked up a little, a gust hitting them. LA weather meant it wasn’t actually too cold out. Evan shivered and he grabbed for his coat, slipping it on clumsily in a way that showed maybe how truly nervous he actually was.

“How about we do this elsewhere?” Tommy asked.

“Uh. Yeah. Yeah, that’d be good. How about my place? I’m not too far from here.”

Tommy nodded easily. “Sure. You’re driving.”

Evan’s car was clean. He’d noticed the Jeep back when he’d come to see Tommy at Harbor and he’d love to get a look at the engine and maybe a few other parts of it. Wranglers were some of the more fun cars out there, great for off-roading and driving out onto a beach. The option to take off the hardtop and even the doors made them even more versatile. He could imagine him and Evan having a lot of fun in that car.

“You know,” Tommy said when they had stopped at a light. “I was feeling a little jealous too.”

“You?” Evan asked.

“That night when we flew out, I got to see the family you all are. You’re more than coworkers and it’s far more than what the 118 was when I was there. I mean, how you all were willing to put everything on the line for one another. And being your soulmate is…well it brings me into the periphery of that which is great, but when Eddie reached out I also realized that I have a lot of acquaintances but not many friends.”

Evan turned his face to look at him for only a few seconds. “You were one of us that night and not just because you’re my soulmate. You put your job and your life on the line too. You even made fake mouth static at the chief.”

Tommy laughed. Evan joined him.

“I’m renowned for my fake mouth static,” Tommy said, trying to sound serious, even though he knew himself it had been terrible.

“It was not great,” Evan said through a laugh.

Tommy wanted to hear him laugh all the time. He wanted to be the one to be the cause of the laughter. That would be enough. His conversation with Eddie had left him almost sure that he’d been right about Evan being straight and he didn’t think he would mind a platonic bond. Not when it was with Evan. When you were gay it wasn’t uncommon to have crushes on your straight friends. No one could blame Tommy for having a crush on his very straight soulmate.

“Come on,” he said and Evan laughed again. “Hey.”

“It was not convincing, but you did it anyway. You threw in with us, no hesitation. I was impressed. It, uh, it made me glad that you’re my soulmate.”

Tommy didn’t know what to say. He could only stare at Evan, watch him as he turned into another street and then he was parking his car outside an apartment building.

“Here we are,” Evan said.

—

Tommy walked into the apartment before Buck, so Buck got to see his first impression as he looked around. He also got to take Tommy in from the back. How even the way he walked was confident, and how yes his jeans did hug his ass nicely.

“Wow. Maybe I’m working at the wrong station,” Tommy said and he took a quick look around. “Very impressive.”

“I, uh, didn’t pick it out,” Buck said as he followed inside.

Tommy threw him a curious look.

“It was an old girlfriend. This was probably the third or fourth place we looked at and she really liked it.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. “But, uh, you got to keep it?”

Buck realized all at once that he was giving Tommy the wrong impression.

“No. No. We, uh, picked it out for me,” Buck said. “Ali traveled a lot for her job, but we were never going to move in together. For one thing I met her on a call and for another, she couldn’t handle the reality of my job. I did get this nice apartment out of it, though, so that’s the upside.”

“I guess so,” Tommy said.

“Do you want something to drink? I still owe you a beer, right?”

“Maybe just water,” Tommy said. “But I will cash in that beer another time.”

Buck pulled a couple of glasses out, bringing out a pitcher from his fridge to pour into them. He found that Tommy had wandered further into the apartment, making his way into Buck’s living room.

“Hey, Evan, aren’t you missing something important over here?”

Buck laughed. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Tommy looked more than a little curious as he walked back. He also looked ridiculously good in his apartment, almost like he belonged there. Buck hadn’t noticed the leather jacket when they were outside Eddie’s house, but he appreciated it as Tommy walked over. Buck motioned to the stools at his kitchen island.

“Since I don’t have a couch,” Buck said.

“I want to hear all about that,” Tommy said as he pulled a stool out. “First I guess there are other things.”

“Yes,” Buck said and he watched as Tommy took his jacket off, draping it on a nearby chair.

“We’re soulmates,” Tommy said as he sat down and there was just so much of him.

His henley clung to his arms, showing a bit of muscle. He was so broad and Buck didn’t know quite what to do with that information or why he cared so much to notice it.

“What does that mean for you?” Tommy asked.

“I asked Bobby that same question just yesterday,” Buck said.

“And what did he say?”

“I actually don’t think he said much,” Buck said. “Looking back, I think I rambled on about some stuff I read up on.”

Tommy smiled. “Yeah? Whatcha got, Evan?”

His eyes were intense as they stared at Buck and there was still something about how he said Buck’s first name. Everytime Tommy said it, Buck felt something akin to relief, it was nothing like the itchy feeling when his mom or dad used it.

“Have you heard of Plato’s Symposium?”

“Can’t say I have. Enlighten me.”

Buck explained it. He told Tommy about how the Symposium had broken down several speeches that Plato assigned to certain philosophers and writers at the time.

“The one that explained love was more or less an explanation of soulmates. Historically there are some records of soulmates, but this was one of the first explanations. The myth. The idea being that originally we all had two heads, four arms, and four legs. We were complete. A god or several gods punished everyone by splitting them in two. And so we were left on a search for our other half.”

“That’s interesting,” Tommy said. “Odd visuals, but interesting.”

Buck let out a relieved sigh. “Yeah. So, if I see it that way then I kind of get it. And it supersedes romantic love…it’s about literally finding the person whose soul was split from yours…the one that compliments yours.”

Buck had been staring at his hands as he spoke, but he looked directly at Tommy then and he had no idea what to make of the soft look that Tommy was giving him. Something like fondness, like he was appreciating Buck in a new way.

“That’s beautiful.”

“Oh,” Buck said.

“No one has ever put it like that. Mostly people think soulmates are supposed to just be really similar. Complimentary…that’s nice.”

Buck knew he was blushing. He could feel how warm his face had gotten. He grabbed for his glass of water, downing some of it.

“I never thought about it much,” Buck admitted. “My parents are soulmates which is wild but I guess them being awful parents has nothing to do with that. I was so excited when I found out about Hen and Karen. Just knowing they had found each other, you know. Chim and my sister had a hard time of it because of Doug, but look at them now. They’re even getting married in a few weeks. I guess it looks different for everyone, but I think it’s important. I think it means a great deal, right?”

Tommy was smiling back at him. “It does. It means a lot. My grandparents were soulmates,” Tommy said. “They were very devoted to each other. I get what you’re saying. I guess the real question is what this means for us.”

Buck could sense that Tommy was being cautious, that there was a reason he was placing it all on Buck, but Buck had no idea why when it affected both of them. Tommy’s eyebrow was raised in question and he took a sip of water.

“This is…it’s a platonic bond, isn’t it?” Buck made himself ask.

Part Six

#911 fic #911 abc #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #evan buckley #tommy kinard #kinley #tevan #tommy x buck

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pavlovianfuckery · 3 months ago

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you're getting very sleep- oh wait. oh no

MASTERLIST

I have no excuses but I'm blaming this one on David Anders and his lovely speaking voice, I'm almost entirely innocent in all this, I promise

Since Blaine sits so prettily smack dab in the middle of the venn diagram of 'needs to be in control at all times'/'likes fucking with people'/'absolute clown shoes character' I think he'd find this sort of thing very funny, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Also this fic was being so naughty when I was trying to post it so if you see any mistakes or things looking off, give me a shout, if there are some in there and I've missed fixing them I swear to god, I will turn into an oyster out of pure shame

I might have blacked out, this got long, bone apple tea ig

7k of hypno and your garden variety filth under the cut, beware schrödinger's spiked drink if you care about that sort of thing

You don't have a pavlovian response to the text alert on your phone, but it's a pretty close thing at this point. And to be honest, the butterflies that start swarming in your belly at the sound of the little 'ding' aren't exactly helping, either.

Had an interesting brain in the last shipment, you up for a test drive tonight?

You frown at the screen. That sounds less like a date and more like work. Could probably still be fun, though.

Is this your way of asking me to come over?

You pause after sending, then quickly tap out another text; Interesting how?

The minutes crawl by, and then the phone chimes again.

You'll see. 10. Wear something pretty.

"'Wear something pretty', huh?" Considering that he could probably charm the hide right off a crocodile if he tried a bit more effort would be nice, but despite that you still can't quite keep a smile away. For a minute you think about responding with something petty to tease him right back with. A few quick taps later, you quickly hit send.

You too

At least there's plenty of time to get ready.

⁂

Curled up on the corner of the couch you watch from across the room as he goes to pour himself a drink. You have to admit that while his idea of an invitation might have been somewhat lacking, he clearly puts that effort into other things. The deep blue shirt brings out the colour of his eyes and between the usual tight denim, rolled up sleeves and undone top buttons, he looks positively edible. Seeing the lines of his shoulder blades move under the thin fabric makes your mouth go a bit dry, completely derailing your train of thought. It's almost hard to believe that he's all yours, even if it's just for tonight.

"You want anything?" If the twitch at the corners of his mouth is anything to go by, your ogling has not gone unnoticed.

"Whatever you're having is fine." You shrug, mostly content to enjoy the view for a bit longer. "So, are you going to explain the 'interesting' part?"

"It's meant to be a surprise." You can tell by the gleam in his eye that this will probably be good, but you're still a bit hesitant.

"After the week I've had, I'm really not up for guessing games."

"That bad?" Despite the way he's not looking at you and busying himself with getting glasses out, it's almost sweet. Until recently you doubt he'd even ask. Even if plain and simple lust is what got you into this mess, this is exactly the kind of small thing that keeps you there. Those tiny cracks in the veneer that make you want to dig your nails into them and peel, to see more of what lies underneath. Not that you're naive enough to think there's a heart of gold hiding underneath the surface, but surface clearly isn't all there is, either.

"You have no idea. Not going to bore you with the details, though." You sigh, watching him get a bottle out. It looks exactly like the kind of expensive stuff that would be perfectly wasted on your half-dead palate. "I just need to not think for a while, so try to play nice?"

"You saying I don't usually?" He's teasing you again, eyebrows raised and his face a perfect mockery of innocence.

"No," Rolling your eyes at him you can't quite keep the fondness out of your voice, "I'm having trouble even imagining it, actually."

He's shaking his head, smiling as he unscrews the cap of the bottle.

"You know," he pours an even measure in each glass, glancing at you as he does, "I might have just the thing."

"The thing for what, exactly?"

"For when you don't want to think." Putting the cap back on the bottle and putting it down, he fishes a bottle out of his pocket. It's a tiny unassuming thing of tinted glass, and you can't see what's inside of it.

"What's that?" You frown, not sure where this is going.

"Just a little something to help you relax." His tone is airy as he holds it between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a little shake. "You trust me?" That's a question that really doesn't help you think less. It's not as if there's been a lack of opportunity for him to hurt you, hell, at times you've even asked him to. But him outright asking you to trust him is different. For a moment there's a blink-and-you-miss-it tension to his shoulders, then he shrugs and starts to put it away again. "You don't have to-"

"No, I do," You wet your lips, flicking your eyes between the bottle and his face. "I trust you." And it's not even a lie. You can only hope that he won't make you regret it as you watch him empty the bottle into one of the glasses, giving it a few quick swirls to mix it all together. Because he's seemingly always finding new ways to annoy you, he adds ice to yours before sauntering over and handing it to you with a little mock bow.

"Madam." He looks so pleased with himself that for a second you hesitate before accepting the offered glass. It almost has you rolling your eyes at him, because you know that he knows how you don't like ice in your drinks, but it doesn't feel worth getting hung up on. At least it doesn't look any different and as he sits down next to you, close enough to touch, you give it a cautious sniff. Doesn't smell any different either. As you take a small sip you can feel his eyes on you, but all you can taste is the same smooth burn you'd been expecting.

"So..." You roll the glass around between your hands, in no hurry to empty it. "You still haven't told me what's supposed to be so interesting about this brain you're on."

"You're really not letting that go, are you?"

"Nope, so you might as well tell me."

"Alright, but it's not as exciting as you probably think." He takes a sip of his drink, nodding his head. "Short version? There was a bit of a mix-up."

"And the less short version?"

"Someone bought what was supposed to be street magician brain because they thought it'd make good blue brain material. Party tricks, that kind of thing." That makes sense, you suppose. "But turns out that same someone didn't bother reading the fine print."

"And...?" You're not entirely sure where he's going with this.

"You ever been hypnotized?"

Now that's a bit of a surprise, the words 'street magician' mostly bring to mind something like card tricks or perhaps pulling hankies out of orifices.

"Oh god," you can't quite suppress a giggle, "you're not going to try and make me quack like a duck or something, are you?"

"No, but..." he leans in a bit closer, lowering his voice a little bit, "what if all I had to do was snap my fingers,"he does exactly that for emphasis,"and I could make you do whatever I wanted?"

"You could always just ask." You shrug, taking another small sip of your drink. Is it just you, or is the room getting warmer? And you could have sworn that there was ice in this, but that must have been your imagination.

"Sure, but where's the fun in that?"

"You might be surprised," The thought certainly doesn't lack appeal, and even if it does feel a little silly, it could be fun. Besides, having someone else take the reins for a bit sounds exactly like what you need right now. "Alright, I'll play. So how does it work, exactly? You going make me look at a swinging pocketwatch or something like that?"

"That's a bit cliché, don't you think?" Shaking his head, he flashes you a quick grin, "No, I'm just going to tell you what's going to happen."

"And that's just going to work?"

"Oh, it will." There's not even a hint of doubt in his voice. "That little freebie I slipped into your drink? Doesn't just relax you, it makes you...suggestible." He gestures to the glass in your hand, "By the time you finish that, you won't be able to resist. Or move much."

"I guess we'll see," you quip, taking another swig from the glass. But you can already feel it, warmth slowly spreading through your limbs like syrup, and not just from the alcohol. With a body temperature that hasn't gone above room temperature in so long, you can't remember the last time you felt this hot.

"Looking a little flushed, there." He leans back and watches you squirm for a few seconds. "It's nice, isn't it? Almost like being alive. Makes you real sensitive, too." He drags the tip of a finger up the inside of your arm, and it's true. What the hell did he give you?

"Do you mind if I open a window?" You blink a few times trying to clear your head, but he's still touching you. Every brush of his skin against yours feels as if he's reaching deeper somehow, touching the nerves themselves. Every move of his fingertip on your heated skin shoots straight to your core, making it hard to think. "I need some air."

"Be my guest." You're sure that your legs weren't this wobbly just a few minutes ago and he clearly notices too, though he doesn't say anything as he takes the half-empty glass from you. Walking over to the door leading out to the balcony is much harder than it should have been, and the entire time you're overly aware of your own body. Just the feel of your clothes and the way your own thighs rub together has you biting your lip. "You good?" The reflection in the glass is a bit blurry, but the amused expression on his face is clear enough.

"Yeah, it's fine." When did you get so lightheaded? Cracking the door open an inch lets the evening air in and it does help, at least a little. Leaning your forehead against the cool glass, you take a few deep breaths. It's only a short distance back to the couch but right now you're not feeling too confident. You only make it a few steps before he stops you.

"You might feel better if you take your top off." That sounds like a good idea, actually. He's still smiling, making your stomach fill with butterflies as you pull the offending garment over your head. "Better?"

"I don't...know?" You frown. Why is it still so warm in here?

"Lose the skirt too." His hungry gaze almost feels like a physical weight on you as it glides over your breasts and stomach, drinking in every inch of exposed skin. "That'll help." Of course it will, it has to. The zipper doesn't want to cooperate but eventually you get it, and as the skirt slides off and falls to the floor, it actually does feel better. It's still a bit too warm and too much somehow, but at least it's bearable now. "Come here." He pats the empty seat next to him. As you go to take a step, your legs wobble again, making you hesitate. It would be so embarrassing if you tripped and fell.

"Are you...laughing at me?" You narrow your eyes at him.

"Not at all." Resting his chin in his hand you can't quite see but you strongly suspect that he's not being entirely truthful. Something is clearly very funny, because his eyes are crinkling at the corners. "You can crawl, if you want." It's still a bit embarrassing but at least it's better than tripping over your own feet, and being on your hands and knees for him feels correct in a way that you can't quite put a finger on. He looks so inviting sitting there, so rather than getting back up right away you crawl between his nonchalantly spread legs. As you rub your cheek against the inside of his denim-clad thigh it actually helps with the light-headedness, because right now it feels as if he's the only solid thing in the room. Then he's patting the seat next to him again. "You should sit."

"But this is nice." Everything feels so intense and as you slide a hand over his calf and up to his knee, you wonder what'd be like to touch him without anything in the way when you're feeling like this.

"You want to finish your drink, don't you?" Now that you think about it, you're actually really thirsty still, so you probably should. Clambering back onto the couch, your fingers are a bit sluggish as he hands you the glass again, but you pay it no mind. "Go on."

There's not that much left, but you only manage about half before your limbs get so heavy that you fumble and nearly drop it.

"What did you...?" You trail off, frowning again. This is his fault, isn't it? He did something.

"Told you it'd help you relax." And it's true, almost too much so. As he reaches over and pulls the nearly empty glass from your clumsy fingers, it's as if somebody has filled your limbs with warm sand. He gently taps the glass against your bottom lip. "Bottoms up, doll." You're not sure if it's on purpose or not but when he tilts the glass he does it a bit too steeply for you to keep up, making the last of the amber liquid drip down your chin and neck.

Then it doesn't seem terribly important anymore because he's chasing the spilled liquor with his mouth, tongue lapping at every stray droplet until you're shivering, weakly squeezing your legs together. Every little touch is overwhelming and as he licks and sucks at your neck, the scent of him nearly makes your mouth start to water. It's a hint of no doubt expensive cologne and whatever product he puts in his hair, all underlaid by what you suppose is just him and you probably shouldn't be associating it with words like 'comfort' or 'safe' but somehow despite yourself, you've started to do that anyway.

"Look how relaxed you are," his voice low and smooth in your ear, almost making you dizzy with want. Pulling away he gives your shoulder a little push. It makes you sway in your seat and as your head lolls back, he wraps a steadying hand around the back of your neck. "That's good. Feels good too, right?"

"Uh-huh." Words aren't usually this hard but everything feels soft and warm, like your brain has been coated in cotton. It's a bit like being underwater and while you can still move, everything seems to move at half speed. Then he's touching you again, tracing the lacy edges of your bra. Even through the thin fabric, everything is so magnified and so focused that when he scratches across one of your nipples with a blunt fingernail, it sends a little mewling sound tumbling from your mouth.

"You must be so damn sensitive," he murmurs as he does it again, "I'm barely even touching you." Every relentless back and forth of his fingers has little jolts of pleasure running through you until it feels like you could melt into the cushions and disappear. When he stops, the lack of it is almost painful. Not for long though because then he's dipping his head down, replacing his fingers with his mouth. If his just fingers felt good, the feel of his tongue and teeth as he sucks you through the saliva-dampened fabric is downright heavenly. Then he's pinching your other side, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers and for a few fleeting seconds you think that if he keeps doing that maybe you might come without even needing anything else. But you don't want to, not yet, so soon and so empty. Somehow you're certain that it would break the spell you're under, and right now everything just feels so good.

"I wanna touch you," you whine, tugging at the edge of his shirt. Clearly you haven't thought this through because that makes him stop, which is the opposite of what you want.

"You can touch, if you want to." When did buttons become this difficult? It really shouldn't be this hard but your fingers aren't quite doing what you tell them to, making you all the more frustrated. "It's okay." When did his voice get that soft, like something you could reach out and touch? It makes you ache to rub up against it even though that makes absolutely no sense. And of course, he makes the buttons look so easy it's almost upsetting. But then he's grabbing your wrist, guiding your hands and pressing them to his bare chest. "Better?"

"A little." When he's this close it feels as if you could drown in his eyes but it's still not close enough and there's some primal part of your mind that wants to crawl under his skin, let him fucking eat you. Something must be funny again, or he wouldn't be smiling at you like that. "What?"

"Nothing." He shakes his head and it's very confusing, because you haven't done anything, have you? But then he's kissing you and it doesn't seem terribly important, anymore. With your mouth starting to turn as clumsy as the rest of you he doesn't push but takes his time, turning the kiss into something so slow and careful that it leaves you short of breath. You almost don't notice his hand moving across your back, fingers slipping under the band of the bra. But then you can feel his lips curve against yours in a grin as he gives the closure a quick little twist, and when it pops open you're almost a bit offended that he makes it look that easy. As he slides the straps down he presses a quick kiss to each shoulder, making your heart do a tiny somersault in your chest. With the bra finally discarded on the floor somewhere he hooks a finger in the elastic of your underwear, giving it a little tug. "Tell me you want me, doll."

"You know I do." For some reason those words are much easier to wrap your mouth around, so easy to get out without having to fight your own body. You're basically vibrating under his hands already, so he has to know. How can he not know?

"Tell me anyway."

"I want you," you breathe, painfully aware of how heavy your cunt feels, wetness starting to seep into your underwear. The words come in a rush you're not quite prepared for, almost falling over themselves. "Fuck, I want you more than anything."

Your hips lift almost on their own when he gives your underwear another tug and then they're slowly slipping down, down, down until he's crouched between your legs, pulling them the rest of the way off.

"You're so pretty," you sigh, gently petting his hair. How can everything about him look so damn touchable? Impossible man. You feel too warm and fuzzy to mind it when he laughs at you, content to just watch the way his mouth and throat move. It makes you want to put your fingers in his mouth. There's no real reason for it and you know that all you'd find in there are lies and teeth, but you want to anyway. Then he's laughing again, shaking his head and pulling on your hand and did you really say all of that out loud? You must have done because then he's rubbing the tips of your fingers over his lips, pressing a quick kiss to each one before slipping two of them into his mouth, holding them gently between his teeth. To him, it's clearly just another way of teasing you and it should feel much sillier than it does, but that doesn't keep your breath from speeding up. It's intimate even though you can't quite articulate why and then his tongue slides over your fingertips, mostly putting a stop to thinking altogether. Your heartbeat feels incredibly loud as you mindlessly trace the edges of his teeth, pressing down on his tongue. It feels like it's only a few short moments later that he's pulling your fingers back out, pressing one last kiss to your knuckles.

"Still with me? Looking a bit zoned out, there." For a few moments, the words bounce around inside your skull like the world's slowest game of pong and you can't quite respond.

"Yeah, I..." you blink rapidly a few times, but it doesn't really help. It feels as if your head is filled with sickly sweet fog that could start leaking out of your ears if you try too hard to think, and the words are shaky and halting as they stumble from your mouth. "You didn't have to."

"You wanted it, though." Then he's on his knees proper, hands gliding up your thighs at a snail's pace, keeping your legs apart even when you unconsciously try to squeeze them together again. He's so close to touching you where you need it, and it's as if he can see how badly you want him. Just his breath washing over you has you clenching around nothing. "Fuck, doll," he groans and then he's touching you, if you can call it that. It's barely the ghost of touch, so feather-light that it's more like torture when you know it'd be so easy for him to sink those gorgeous fingers into you, filling you up. "You need it, don't you?"

Then the tip of his tongue is slipping through your folds, dipping into you. It's too gentle, nowhere near enough and the way he's studiously avoiding your clit makes it obvious that he's doing it entirely on purpose. It makes you clumsily grab at the back of his neck in that way you know annoys him because at this point, you'll even take his teeth over more of this teasing. All it gets you is another huff of laughter, bright eyes boring into yours until you're pinned down like a bug on a board. When he finally brushes against your clit it's still just with the very tip of his tongue, too slow and too soft to do anything except frustrate you. Every muscle in your body is slowly turning to jelly and when you try to push him away, nothing is moving how it should.

"Please." It's small and strangled and almost blurring at the edges, only barely squeezing out past the whimper growing at the base of your throat. "It hurts." And it does, you're so empty and needy that you're swollen with it, it aches and every flick of his tongue is making it worse, not better. "Need you," the words keep sticking like velcro to your tongue, and it takes more effort than it should to get them out.

"What do you want, hm?" He rubs at you, watching your reaction as he idly spreads your wetness mixed with his saliva around. "You can have my fingers." Resting the tip of a finger at your entrance he just barely dips inside. It makes you twitch and shudder, your body trying to pull at him all on its own, but the feeling passes quickly, leaving a gaping kind of hunger in its place. "Can have my whole hand, if that's what you want." As you struggle for words he bites down on the inside of your thigh, a slow steady press of teeth intended to leave a bruise. That hurts too, but it gives you something else to focus on, makes it easier.

"Just need you," you grit out, breath coming in quick little gasps, "inside, please, please..."

"Yeah?" He presses a sloppy open-mouthed kiss to the bite, laving his tongue over the little divots left by his teeth, so close to breaking the skin. "You want my cock?"

"God, yes." Your nails scrabble weakly against the expensive leather of the couch. Some gibbering and altogether vicious part of your mind insists that him just fucking you isn't enough, he needs to get his cock out and hurt you with it, to leave you with marks so lasting and so deep that the only thing you'll ever be is his. It's thoroughly ugly in all its possessiveness, but you can't bring yourself to care. "Please."

For a second he looks at you with something that's almost like pity.

"You can't move, can you?" His tone is soft and sweet like molasses as he wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking it with his thumb. Before you can even try to answer he lifts it a few inches, then lets go, and you can't do anything except watch as your arm limply falls back down. "Oh, sweetheart," he breathes, eyes going half-lidded and dark," Oh, that's perfect, fuck."

Having to watch him undress without being able to touch him is its own kind of torture. Every movement from the way he shrugs off the undone shirt to how he peels the tight denim down is deliberate and just a hint too slow, making you wait for it. He's close enough that all you'd have to do is reach for him but your limbs just feel so heavy, as if any minute you're going to sink down all the way through the floor. He's half-hard already, tenting the fabric of his boxers and as he pulls them off too you can't quite hold back a frustrated little noise.

Then your mouth really does start to water because the way he touches himself is deliberate too, slow and teasing and just out of your reach. The temptation to get on your knees and wrap your lips around him is so strong that you're almost feverish with it, but even if you could move, how could you trust your own mouth right now? Every slide of his fingers draws the tension inside of you tighter until it drags the breath from your lungs in a desperate little whine.

It's not even words anymore, just noise. You can't even ask for what you want. Then he's stepping closer still, until he's just inches away, the tip of his cock flushed and wet and all but begging you to wrap your mouth around it. If you could just move-

"Shh, I know," he soothes, stroking your hair, "you don't need to talk, it's alright..." Despite the breathy edge to his voice the words are still so soft, and you can't quite understand why. Every little movement and slick sound has heat curling low in your belly and as he swipes his thumb over his slit and gathers the beading precome on his finger, you think you might actually cry. He's close enough that you can smell him and now he's just being mean, why can't he just-

Then his finger is pressing against your mouth, rubbing it over your lips until they glisten with it and now you know he's definitely just being mean on purpose because that has to be payback for something you've done. "You're so fucking pretty like this, come here." He grits out, cupping your jaw in his hand. "Open." His grip is gentle as he coaxes your slack mouth to open properly, not letting go and taking himself in hand until he's satisfied that it's wide enough. Hand cradling the back of your head, he doesn't fuck your mouth the way you expect him to. Instead he just barely slips between your lips and rubs his tip against your tongue with a low moan, not seeming to care that you can't really do anything. For a minute it's so close to being what you want, but it's not quite what you need. You'd thought that tasting him would make you feel better, but instead all it does is make the ache between your legs all the more urgent. It's not just the inside of your thighs that are getting slick with it, the luxurious leather under your ass is also starting to turn slippery, and if he doesn't take pity on you soon, sliding right off the couch could be a very real possibility. While getting fucked on the floor is starting to sound more tempting by the minute, you know that it'd probably be a lot less fun in practice. You wish that you could at least swallow properly because he's leaking into your mouth, twitching and messy and entirely too lovely. The little groans spilling from his lips have no business sounding as good as they do and you selfishly hope that he doesn't come like this and leaves you hanging.

When he finally pulls away the rise and fall of his chest is a shuddering, uneven thing and he looks almost as tense and desperate as you feel. As he wipes your chin and as he cups your cheek, thumb tracing your cheekbone, you can't recall ever wanting him more."Just blink if you still want it, doll."

So you do, as slowly and as purposefully as you can, despite the thick fog swirling around in your mind, making it hard to think. It seems to get the message across because his face is a mixture of relief and desire, hot and sharp and focused entirely on you as he captures your mouth with his.

"Good," he sighs against your lips, "that's good." When he pushes you down you go so easy, as boneless as a puppet with its strings cut. It's a tight fit and not entirely comfortable when he tries to slot himself between your legs and in hindsight, the couch really isn't the best spot for it. He seems to agree, knocking a few of the cushions to the floor with an impatient little 'tsk' sound and giving your legs more room to spread. "There," he grunts, pressing close and covering your body with his, "that's better."

With his weight holding you down it does feel better and as he rubs his length over your aching center, even better still. Every slow roll of his hips has your traitorous heart pounding just a bit harder in your chest because he could have just turned you over and used you but instead he's taking his time, all but melting against you in a way that's bordering on tender. You're still not naive enough to fool yourself into thinking that this is something as stupid as love, but with the way he's looking at you, it makes it hard to believe that this arrangement between you is as clear-cut as it had been when it started. Then he's bowing his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck, breathing laboured as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin.

"You just keep that pretty little head of yours," his voice is shaky and fraying at the edges, "nice and empty for me." With the way he's caging you in with his arms, he's already the only thing you can think about right now but it's not like you'd tell him that, even if you could. Then he's reaching down, feeling you out and angling his hips just so, making thinking superfluous at best as he presses against your opening. He's not even inside of you yet but he's already trembling. "Fuck," he gasps, brows knitting into a small concentrated frown. "oh, you're so fucking ready for me, aren't you?"

For once he's not hiding and you can't look away, and as he finally slides into you, all you can do is breathe and let him. There are no masks, no walls, only the way his mouth goes slack and pupils dilate, breath coming out in stuttering little bursts. He takes his time with this too, easing into you so carefully, as if he's worried that you might break, despite knowing better than that. Having him buried inside like this, throbbing and lovely and pushing into the deepest parts of you, it's perhaps the most right you've felt all night. And that's when you realize that even though it's only a little, you can move.

"Oh fuck, sweetheart, you don't have to..." The words are staggered and a bit unsteady as he trails off, frown deepening and eyelids fluttering as you squeeze around him again and again. Once you start, you're not sure how to stop. Not when it's dragging the prettiest, almost obscene noises from his mouth as he rocks against you. It feels as if he's barely moving an inch, only just pulling back before thrusting back in, nudging and massaging at that sweet spot deep inside. If you could only touch yourself you'd be hurtling towards that precipice so soon, but you can't. Even if your arm wasn't hanging uselessly off the edge of the couch, there's no room. Instead, he's pressed in so close that every move has you rubbing against him. Compared to his fingers or his mouth it's too broad, too imprecise, but it doesn't matter because it's still enough. You can feel your climax slowly starting to build, a roiling, twisting, hungry thing that's already making your thighs start to quiver. There's no hurrying it along, there's only frantic little breaths and waiting for him to bring you there, a low keening sound trapped in your throat. That, and watching as he slowly falls apart. Because he does, control steadily eroding until he's tense and still and spewing profanities into your ear.

"You gotta fucking," his voice is rough and strained, chest heaving as he twitches inside of you," oh, you gotta stop that." You almost don't want to. He's beautiful like this, so tightly wound and on the verge of losing himself in you completely. With your own release looming just out of reach it's almost impossible to stop, but you do. It's like a tide retreating and if you could move, you'd be clinging to him right now, begging for it, but all you can do is breathe. "I'll take care of you, just let me," and then he's kissing you again, quick and sloppy and gorgeous, the words tickling your lips, "I will, just be still for me, just let me..." And then he's moving again, pushing himself deeper and fully bottoming out, forcing your legs apart until one of them limply slides off the couch, the plush rug tickling your foot as it dangles over the edge. It's not the most comfortable position to be in but he's not letting you fall and with the slight change in angle, there's more room now. He wastes no time taking advantage of it. It's still a tight fit as he slides a hand between your bodies, pressing down and rubbing exactly where you need him to the most. The pace is no longer something deep and slow, and you can tell he's trying to hold back, but you're not sure how long it's going to last. You know it won't be long for you though, between the way he fills you up so perfectly and rubbing slick little swipes in a merciless back-and-forth over your clit, your walls are already starting to flutter.

"Hold on for me, doll, I'm almost there, just a bit more..."The desperate edge to the words drags you even closer to your peak and his fingers are so insistent and so good that you can't, you can't. He looks almost pained as he chases it, driving into you at a pace that's nowhere near gentle or controlled anymore. "I want to be right fucking there with you," and that nearly does it, the way he chokes those words out, voice so breathless and lovely. You try to hold on, you do, but he's making it impossible. Then he's making a strangled noise and you're no longer going, you're gone, spasming around his cock until you're nearly pushing him out with the force of it. In the midst of the searing pleasure you're almost sorry but then he's making an absolutely filthy sound and you can feel it when he tips over the edge only seconds behind you, swelling and pulsing as he pushes himself against your grasping walls. After dragging it out for so long it's not quick, every drop of pleasure wrung from you until you're gasping and dizzy. Even as he's starting to come down, you're still convulsing around him until he's oversensitive and shuddering. But rather than pull away he leans into it. There's something almost cute about how the aftershocks of your release make him twitch and gasp and despite looking at least as spent as you feel, he still rolls his hips a few more times and rubs his softening cock against your weakly fluttering walls, making himself shiver with it.

When you finally go still he lets out a breathless little laugh.

"You done?" He smiles, resting his forehead against yours. You frown and blink slowly up at him because he doesn't do that, not really. The gesture is too intimate, too familiar, but there it is anyway. It makes you want to wrap your arms around him and for some reason, you can. It's jerky and clumsy but at least it's movement, so you'll take it. The smooth expanse of his back is almost warm as you run your hands over it, waiting for him to push you away.

"I..." your mouth feels as if it's coated in rust, dry and miserable, but at least it's working, sort of. Clearing your throat, you try again."Think so. Definitely." You're vaguely aware that there are tears stinging at the corners of your eyes. As you blink they fall and then your shoulders start tensing almost on their own.

"Hey," his voice is so hellishly soft again and he's pulling away, sitting back from you. It hurts, causing a few more tears to stubbornly fall. It's embarrassing and he shouldn't have to see that so you turn away, curling up on your side.

"Shit," he mutters under his breath. There's barely space for it but he squeezes in between you and the backrest of the couch anyway, plastering himself to your back. It's not exactly comfortable and you're not sure why he's doing it at all. As a small sob rattles your ribcage he wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to the back of your shoulder. "You okay?"

"I'm not sad, not really, it's fine." It's probably not very convincing and you wipe at your eyes with a little hiccup. "Fuck."

"You sure?" He rests his chin on your shoulder, tightening his grip just a fraction. That's not something you're used to either from him, but if he's offering you're not going to push him away.

"Just, that was...a lot." You shake your head, a wobbly little giggle bubbling in your throat. "What the fuck did you put in my drink?"

"Just water." He sounds so utterly pleased with himself when he says it, too. "Got you good, didn't I?"

"What...?" That doesn't sound right at all and you frown. "If you're lying to me right now-"

"You don't remember anything, do you?" His voice is almost giddy in your ear and before you can question what exactly you're supposed to remember, he snaps his fingers again, making you jump. It's hazy, coming back in fits and starts, and then-

⁂

"Deep breaths, just relax for me." All you can see is his eyes, drawing you in. "Just listen, you're going to..." And you want to listen, it feels so good to listen, letting his voice wash over and through you until everything else falls away, until all that exists is himhimhim-

"You're doing so well, doll." Every word slips and skids across your brain like honey in a hot skillet until it feels like they're coating the inside of your mouth, sweet and sticky.

"In a moment you're going to wake up..." And you still can't look away, his voice is so soft, wrapping around you and filling you up until your head is swimming with it. "You're not going to remember this until later, okay? Nod for me if you understand."

You're swaying in your seat, neck like rubber and you nod, you want so badly to do as he says, anything, just as long as he keeps talking-

⁂

"What the hell did you do?" Despite yourself, you tense up, heart tapping an uneven rhythm against your ribs.

"Nothing you didn't enjoy." He sounds almost unbearably flippant. One of these days, you're going to have and try to take him down a peg or two. "Mostly wanted to see if it'd even work."

"You better tell me, or I swear-" You don't really think he's done anything horrible, but you are curious enough that resorting to violence isn't entirely out of the question.

"Alright, keep your panties on. Or don't," he gives your shoulder a little nibble and you can feel him grin. "The general idea was that the more turned on you got, the less you'd be able to think or move." He shrugs, tightening his grip. "Also the drink thing, but that was just for fun."

"And there was nothing else?"

"Scouts honor." There's a pause, and then, "Would you have preferred it if I'd made you cluck like a chicken?"

"Anyone ever tell you that you're a bit of an asshole?" It comes out a bit sharper than intended, but it just runs off of him like water on a particularly smug duck.

"Oh yeah," he murmurs against the back of your neck, "there's this awfully pushy woman that keeps constantly reminding me."

"You really think I'm pushy?" You can't even bring yourself to be annoyed, not really. The fondness fizzing in your chest doesn't quite let you, not right now. "So this might be a silly question, but..." You bite your lip, running your fingers over his forearm," could we keep this one? It was a little interesting..."

#izombie #blaine debeers #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)#x reader #should i tag everything i write as an affront to this mans entire career? possibly #my fic tag

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rnakamura22 · 2 years ago

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First Years X Reader (MC, Yuu, Prefect) in a Polyamorous Relationship

WE ALL NEED THIS!!! Prefect is female! Yandere Vibes!!! This is so bad....

How It Started：You and the first-year gang after several overblots, began to get really close. Count in the numerous sleepovers, study dates, hanging out after school, doing crazy things in class, explosion, explosion, and fighting for food during lunch. Oh, did I mention the explosions in alchemy class? Yes, you were the only female in this school but that didn’t matter! You and the first-year gang were besties! Nothing More, Nothing Less Right? ............You couldn’t have been more wrong.

Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek. They all had feelings for you. During the time you spend together with them, they got to know your sweet personality, kindness, always looking out for others, inner and outer beauty, keeping up with the studies even though you have like ZERO knowledge of this world. Oh, and taking care of Grim and yourself? Damn, that’s something. But they were all afraid of confessing, part of them not wanting to ruin the relationship between everybody, Part of them holding it back because you were from another world.

Now, it’s not like they completely hid the behavior that they had feelings for you.

Oh, that second year from Scarabia who bumped into you on purpose? Sebek in his EXTRA loud voice will demand apology for bumping into you in front of everybody. #PublicExecution

The first year from Savanaclaw making snide comments about you being a girl in a boy’s school and your body figure? Let’s just say Jack and Epel had HUGE red stains on their clothes at the end of the day.

Uh, Oh! A third year from Octavinelle trying to form an unfair deal with you! Leave it to Ace and his tricks, and Deuce with his cauldron. You are safe and sound as long as these five boys are there.

Unknown to the five, you also had feelings for them, not one but five. I mean, they were all handsome, nice, and had amazing qualities unique to each of them. Natural right?

And then came the usual sleepover in Ramshackle Dorm. Somehow, Ace thought it would be a great idea to play Truth or Dare, and after a few turns, it came to your turn. “Prefect, Truth or Dare?” 　You were feeling a little high from the fun and said “Dare！” “Ok, I dare you to tell us your crush!”

Cut the music and the atmosphere being totally quiet. You couldn’t back down and blurted out. “It’s ... it’s you guys.... all five of you...”. DUN DUN DUN!!!!!!!

The First Year Gang were surprised as hell. But after a while, they don’t care about the petty stuff anymore. Oh, did I mention that they decided to team up recently to have you? Well, after a talk that lasted like the rest of the sleepover, you and the first years figured all the rules out and happily started your relationship as boyfriend and girlfriend. Grim was surprised as heck when he found out and said that’s why he felt so left out recently. Unknown to you, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek all had backup plans in case you said a person that wasn’t any of them as your crush. Oh, and you can forget about going back to your world because they all plan to keep this relationship a long-term thing. If you don’t give up, ........well, let’s just say that all mirrors around you will be crushed, since all of them will not let you go. EVER.

#twisted wonderland #twised wonderlnd x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #zebek zigbolt #prefect twisted wonerland #yandere twisted wonderland

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autogeneratedkahootnickname · 1 year ago

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Yeah so I'm an Amber apologist until the day I die.

I do think there's potentially a minor writing hiccup but I'm gonna set things out as best I can from my understanding.

What a lot of people don't pick up on, and what the show tries to convey in episode 5, is that Mark has been a phenomenally shitty boyfriend to Amber. We only see a few brief snippets of him cancelling some dinner plans, but this has been a constant, unfaltering issue for 3 months. 'He's late, he doesn't show, and he always has some shitty excuse.' From Amber's point of view, it wouldn't be unreasonable for her to think she means nothing to him.

But she recognises that the situation is complex, and she cares about him, and she sees that he IS trying, if not enough. So she gives him second chance after second chance. Honestly far longer than she should have done.

But yeah, their relationship is on the ROCKS for a LONG time. But since we see Mark superheroing throughout most of that, we can't put ourselves in her shoes.

So then, flash forward to Upstate U and the reveal. My controversial theory, but the one I think most makes sense in terms of writing, is that Amber didn't know Mark was Invincible until he tells her.

Amber is visibly startled when she sees Mark flying in her room. Granted she would be even if she knew, but it leans more to her not knowing than the contrary.

Amber does not know who Invincible is at Upstate U, and she never refers to him by name in the confrontation: 'I know you're a superhero', 'fly away, flyboy'. If she had known 'weeks beforehand' a cursory google would have been likely. She would be more likely to refer to him by name.

Amber is very intelligent, she's quick-witted, she's an expert at putting up walls as a defence mechanism and she hates being lied to. She would be capable of concealing her surprise, and wouldn't want to lose control in the conversation, but honestly she doesn't have to. Because her reaction seems genuine, even if its less premeditated than she puts on.

Amber goes into that interaction thinking Mark is a liar, a coward, a flake and an asshole. That interaction recontextualises him as a liar, a flake and an asshole. In different ways sure, but the end result is the same. Amber's whole issue is that she doesn't feel valued by Mark, and she's just been told that he was hiding an entire secret life from her because he didn't trust her. Also, Mark is not 'trusting her now': he's using Invincible as a retroactive get out of jail free card for being an asshole for 3-4 months. He frames it in a way that, even if its unintentional on his part, makes her out to be small, and petty, and irrational: 'because im out saving lives or protecting the planet.' It sounds like he's blaming her for being mad at him, and he's SO SURE she'll forgive him everything in that moment. She doesn't want to let him off the hook for being shitty, and Mark's behaviour isn't helping. This is supposed to convey that the way he treated her isn't ok even if he was a superhero, and he shouldn't expect it to be.

And she isn't happy about being angry with him! The scene ends with her looking pensive, conflicted, because the walls she put up in that scene do not reflect her character! She goes back to Mark to make sure he's alright, because she sees his actions in a different light, and bear in mind, at this point, Mark is still viewed by the public as someone who played a pretty substantial role in killing around 50,000 people at a guess. She's not going back to him because he's a hero now. He's public enemy number 2. That is an INCREDIBLE amount of integrity and dedication, traits she's displayed repeatedly throughout the season through her grassroots support of local communities.

William literally says in his pep talk to Mark:

'But you were a shitty boyfriend to Amber and you got what you deserved'. This is Mark's number 1 fan. Laying it out in front of us.

And last, but of course, not least,

Guys she's fucking seventeen cut her some slack jesus christ she's not a calculator

#invincible #amber apologist #well not an apologist coz that implies she did something wrong #like. i wont lie a lot of it does feel misogynistic?#'innocent man persecuted by crazed nagging irrational girlfriend' hmmm #dont like it #she deserves so much better #like some people literally say she's worse than omni-man because 'at least he had a coherent world view' really? fucking really?#edit: since making this post i have learned about the term misogynoir #which i feel is very applicable here

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pure-garbage · 2 months ago

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Not-So-Quick Thought Dump

I'm currently working on a handful of chapters that are actually incredibly important to me. I've been a victim of domestic abuse in the past, so it's an unbelievably difficult topic for me to write about. As much as writing can provide therapy and catharsis, I'm still only human and I get triggered sometimes trying to work through trauma I've personally experienced. I'm sure I'll end up hiding all the pain under a few layers of comedy, which is also fine. That's valid as an art form(I think).

That being said, I'm very pleased with the way I present the situation playing out roughly through chapters 123, likely to around 127. Character aspects like the ones explored here are a huge part of the reason I love the straw hat women so much, especially Robin(Lots of love for Nami too, but she is significantly younger and I head canon her as less experienced/wise).

Robin is the friend I always wanted but never had when I was dealing with my own struggles. She's centered, she's grounding, she's practical, and she can be amazingly fierce when it come to protecting/advocating for the people she cares about.

Going through my own experiences, I never had anyone who told me what I was going through was not okay. It can be incredibly confusing to be victimized by someone you have strong feelings for, whether that's romantic or familial. One of the hardest things in the world to realize is that two things can be true simultaneously: you can love someone and still not be okay with the way they treat you. You can create boundaries, have tough discussions and try to change behaviors. If change isn't possible, it becomes necessary to walk away, which is a separate challenge in and of itself.

Also the concept that someone can hurt you without meaning to and that's still not acceptable. It's easy to make excuses for the people who hurt us instead of holding them to account. Justifying the actions of someone you love is a hell of a lot easier than communicating with them. It's a lot easier than telling them you aren't okay with what they did. It's a lot easier than asking them not to do it again. Especially if they don't realize or don't want to admit that they hurt you. Maybe they were just playing. Maybe they thought you could handle it. If you're tempted to make excuses for them, you'd better believe that if you try to have a conversation about what happened, they'll likely make excuses for themselves.

This point cuts extra deep, at least for me, because it goes both ways. We can hurt the people around us without that being our intention. Hurting someone doesn't automatically make you the bad guy. Every fight in a relationship doesn't necessarily have a 'right' or 'wrong' side. It's fine to have a little self-forgiveness, but it has to be paired with caution. Don't make excuses for yourself instead of taking responsibility. The only thing you can really do to wrong another person is violate the boundaries they set knowing that you're doing so.

Whatever happened, even if it was a little thing, a petty thing, a 'stupid' thing: if you didn't like it, that's enough reason for it to never happen again. That's called setting a boundary and anyone who cares about you will respect the lines you draw in the sand and go out of their way not to cross those lines again. Which probably sounds super basic, like it should 'go without saying', but some of us were raised in dysfunctional households. For us, this really basic knowledge is a completely alien concept that we learn about later on. It's a life-changing epiphany if you're lucky enough to realize it consciously.

So if there's one lesson I can impart with this little arc, I hope that it is this: love and respect go hand in hand and they have to be mutual. Put the work in, be considerate, but don't forget to demand the same effort and consideration in return.

And walking away from a bad situation never makes you a bad person.

#fanfic #one piece #oc #nico robin #nami #roronoa zoro #sandbox adventures #pure garbage #I have never been to therapy actually #I should probably go #Get me some therapy #Instead of just using fictional characters to work through all my bs #but guess what?#Therapy is fucking expensive #Fanfic is free <3

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killerinstincts · 12 days ago

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please talk about zangetsu's thoughts towards ichigo! we see with old man 'zangetsu' through the series how his goal and motivations regarding ichigo shifted, but what about shiro's thoughts and feelings towards ichigo? how did those change over time from when he was first awoken towards current timeline?

Questions about my muse / always accepting!

Putting this under the cut because I yap extensively here. This also became less about Zangetsu's feelings and more of an analysis about Ichigo and Zangetsu's relationship, whoops!

I think in order to properly answer this ask, I first need to establish the fact that the odds were decidedly NOT in Zangetsu's favor. Considering that Ichigo had no Asauchi, the fact that OMZ was the first to approach and therefore solidified himself as the center of power in Ichigo's head, how all of his training was incredibly rushed, and how others planted ideas in Ichigo's head before Zangetsu could get to him, there was basically no chance that the two could foster a healthy relationship in the beginning.

Of course this frustrates and saddens Zangetsu. All he wants is to protect Ichigo and have his 'king' acknowledge him, but as a part of Ichigo's soul, he understands that a) Ichigo would see that protection as humiliation, and b) he's extremely stubborn, so winning him over would be extremely difficult given the circumstances. Therefore, even though Zangetsu is actually pretty chill (in his first appearance, once Ichigo is gone, he outright states that "hey, the King needs to win, or it would be bad") he recognizes that since Ichigo's life is constantly under threat, he needs to forget about that and instead focus on preserving his king's life, even at his own expense.

And how does he do this? By taking up the role of a villain, playing into the ideas Ichigo's developed about Hollows from his time in the Soul Society. He takes over when Ichigo is about to lose despite how much he knows his host hates it, because he sees it as a necessity; Ichigo is too weak to handle things on his own otherwise. There's only one time Zangetsu tries to hold this over his head, where Ichigo is about to fight Yammy and Zangetsu tries to take over. When Ichigo refuses him, Zangetsu gets pissed off and undoes his Bankai as his petty way of saying "you need me, you're not getting shit done without me the way you are now." Especially not against enemies as strong as the Arrancar.

Yet Ichigo keeps trying to fight them anyways, because of course he would, and the way Zangetsu sees it, he may as well be running into his own death. So he escalates things. During Ichigo's first fight with Grimmjow, he threatens to take over again, forcing him to retreat, and when Ichigo is alone he jeers in his head and threatens to devour him (fyi the order of events here may be wrong, I'll double check later if I can and fix this post as needed.) Zangetsu understands that with the circumstances being as dangerous as they are, now is the time for extreme measures, and as an instinctual being, he understands that there is no greater motivator for evolution than fear. So he gives Ichigo an ultimatum to either get stronger, or have Zangetsu take over and deal with everything for him.

When Ichigo confronts him in his inner world during his Visored training, Zangetsu uses this as a way to test him, to see if he's really ready to tackle the Arrancar without Zangetsu needing to step in. All the while he's subtly trying to teach him even as he's playing up the villain act-- if he wasn't, he wouldn't have given that speech about instinct, nor would he have lectured Ichigo about losing his sword. In my opinion, the way he yells at Ichigo sounds more like he's admonishing him rather than trying to humiliate him, like he might if he truly were trying to take the 'crown' for himself, and when Ichigo does beat him, his threat to come back if Ichigo ever relaxes his guard is more of a warning like "don't get cocky just because you beat me" when you consider the context.

To his credit, Ichigo does listen. He never loses his sword again, he takes his lesson about instinct to heart, and he gets stronger after that... but what next? Zangetsu is still seen as a source of pain for Ichigo, and now he's more suppressed than ever. The only thing he can do at that point is lend Ichigo his strength and make sure he doesn't lose. It's only when Ichigo does lose and actually gets killed by Ulquiorra that Zangetsu comes back, and when he does, he's so pissed off that he fully Hollowfies. As frustrated as he is with his king, he's still extremely protective of him, and he flies into a blind rage with every intention to humiliate Ulquiorra the way he did to Ichigo before killing him.

Again, Ichigo misunderstands his intentions and gets angry at him for interfering again when he comes to, because he doesn't realize that Zangetsu loves him. When he comes out to teach Ichigo the Final Getsuga Tensho, Zangetsu cries because he loves him, because now they have to say goodbye and he regrets reaching this conclusion without even reaching an understanding at first. Of course this isn't permanent, but at the time, all Zangetsu wanted was to be heard, and now it seems like Ichigo will never be able to hear his voice again.

Now let's skip to TYBW. Considering what we know about Ichigo and Zangetsu, it's understandable why Ichigo feared his zanpakuto spirit the way he did, but look at it any other way and it just looks like all his life, Ichigo never tried to get to know his zanpakuto, then later cast him aside. Of course the Asauchi are pissed at him. Early on it's established that a sword without an Asauchi is brittle, and given that Ichigo had no Asauchi, he shouldn't have been able to wield a Zanpakuto at all. Zangetsu was only able to give him a sword because White was strangely similar to an Asauchi despite being a Hollow, and the Zanpakuto he created was imperfect. A Shikai with no sheath is like flesh with no skin: exposed and vulnerable, and it's why you see Ichigo's sword constantly crack and split throughout the series. For Ichigo to approach them with his broken sword without understanding that was frustrating to both the Asauchi and Nishimiya.

It's only once Ichigo finally understands what's happening that he's able to unlock his true Shikai, and in the forging process, all the signs that Zangetsu loves him are there. Asauchi are apparently extremely malleable and able to take any shape they desire, and yet Zangetsu's Asauchi chooses to take Ichigo's form except for the Hollow face. Then, once Ichigo pulls out his True Shikai from the forge, we see Zangetsu smiling at him. It's never said outright, but that scene isn't just closure for OMZ, it's also for White Zangetsu. Having finally being acknowledged, he no longer needs to be seen as a source of pain, and rather than being suppressed, he can now properly fight at Ichigo's side.

Just like he wanted to from the very beginning.

#INBOX.#jinjahime #not double checking this bc i need to eat LOL but if anything doesnt make sense dont be afraid to send followup questions #thank you for the ask!

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quetzalpapalotl · 2 years ago

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reverse hot take meme: tell me why I should care about Prowl?

I assume you’re talking about IDW1 Prowl. Truly I love him. I love how everyone is so passionate about him whether they love him or hate him. Mmm this was a fun ask and it got long, so under a cut it goes!

He seems like a good character to me, because I can always see where he’s coming from, even if he’s what we call an awful person. I think Prowl is the Phase 2 character with the most cohesion across his different writers. I know that may sound strange, Barber, Roche, and Roberts write him with a different flavor, yes, but I think they all have the same core understanding and just focus on different things according to their respective genres.

For example, JRo’s Prowl feels way pettier and more emotional than Barber’s, which fits with how Mtmte puts a lot of focus on interpersonal flaws. However, I’d argue Barber’s Prowl is just as petty, I mean *point to the whole ordeal with Spike on Earth* or like, he’s willing to let Caminus die so that Starscream doesn’t try to rule all the galaxy which while Starscream did wanted to control the Colonies, he would not start a war against the cosmos again, he knows better than that. Prowl’s motivations are influenced by the fact that he hates the Decepticons and he can’t let Starscream win, but he’s able to rationalize his actions so he can keep telling himself he’s entirely reasonable.

But you asked me to give you specifically reasons to care about him, so I will argue he’s a lot like Megatron (and oh, Prowl would flip a table if he heard me, that’s so fun):

Both Prowl and Megatron are people extremely Machiavellian and willing to do anything for their specific vision of the Greater Good and both are lacking in self awareness and won’t admit to their actual motivations or that their methods are antithetical to their supposed goals. There are both convinced they are the only one that can do what needs to be done. To Prowl’s credit, he’s far less vainglorious, while Prowl does want credit, he doesn’t need a whole cult to worship him. Prowl wants influence rather than power and unlike Megatron he doesn’t actually like violence. He’s actually quite disgusted by it, which is part of the reason he needs other people do it for him.

But both run on paranoia, spite and a need to be war. They both need the war to give them meaning. Again, to be fair to Prowl, I think he actually does genuinely want the vision he claims to want, but anything else will mean he was wrong and all the things he did was maybe not as justified so he has dug himself into a hole of keeping the war running until he gets his desired ending or his whole idea of himself falls apart. While Megatron will use this unrealistic vision to have an excuse to keep on fighting because fighting is what gives him meaning.

Okay yeah, they’re not exactly the same, but they do have neat parallels and you like Megatron, right?

Prowl feels deeply tragic to me, because while he was always kind of a prick, his pre-war self really did seem to operate on a belief that rules and order are good. He had a lot of ideas of the old Cybertron internalizes, yes, but he does attempt to make things better for everyone. He prevents Sentinel from eradicating the Decepticons, he tries to stand against corruption, tries to keep Orion in check. Yet everything still goes to hell, so he sort of goes “fine, if everyone is going to make compromises I will too, except I will do the right ones because I can tell what they are” and now he’s trapped in a cage of his own doing and he’s aware of it but too deep in his own head to change even when he wants to. There’s some delicious irony because more than anything Prowl wants to be understood, but he won’t value anyone’s input over his own.

He's interesting, there's a lot to chew about him. He's a good character. This is fiction so I think that more important than anything else you can say about him. Thinking about Prowl is endlessly entertaining, he's so full of pathos and irony.

Also fun fact: he's Barber's favorite character dasfhgjsa, I believe that, Barber has such fun playing with him. I think JRo also mentioned him being a favorite at some point(?)

#be grateful i skipped the comparison between eugenesis and idw1 prowl #quetzal rambles tf

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once-was-muses · 10 months ago

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[ I don't know how to the preface this otherwise, but in the hopes of not getting more anonymous questions about my recent hiatus and the personal issues that lead to it I'll leave a list for the asker(s) to read at their leisire. I will only mention the things I'm comfortable and willing to, and- unless something in regards to both the situation and my own feelings change- I will not be addressing any part of it publicly in any way going forward. ]

[ No one has any obligation to pity me or even read this. I don’t know what to tag this as- it doesn't really contain any of the typical triggers- so please exercise caution if you decide to read anyhow. Readmore-ed for the sake of not taking up too much of the dash. I am going to be inactive for a few hours at least as this was difficult to type out, but I'm fine and I will be fine- I know saying "don't worry" doesn't necessarily stop anxiety, but I will reassure as such anyhow. ]

I have memory issues. Part of them is definitely due to ADHD, but it doesn't seem like that's the only cause. Whatever the whole problem is, my memory started failing more and more towards the middle of last year, seeming the worst I could remember them being in November-early December. Obviously since I have memory issues, I can't say for certain that they had actually reached the worst they'd been as I have no solid recollections to compare with. This point lead to, or exacerbated a few others on this list.

Towards the beginning of last year I think it was, my suspicions of being aromantic reached a peak and I decided to try the label on. I was in a relationship at the time, and I was transparent about it with my then-partner (still tied as best friend with the members of our mutual real life friend group.) I told him I fully understood if he wanted a mutually romantic partner, and a few days later he told me he did and we returned to just friends. Months later, I'm having doubts about being aro again; I think what I experience is a mixture of my autism and personal problems with romance that I need to unpack on my own. What upsets me most about this point is that I seem incapable of starting that conversation with him as I feel he deserves out of respect, and it feels like I'm disrespecting him furthermore by being afraid when he's done nothing to justify that in the almost 10 years I've known him.

Related to the above point; when I told another friend outside of Tumblr and real life circles that I think I might be aromantic, I discovered firsthand that they're aphobic. For over five years now, I never knew them to be bigoted in any way. Obviously I've cut all ties with them.

Both my mother and grandfather have had multiple health scares last year- some were preexisting for my grandfather, but the three with my mother are all very new. All are being treated and handled well, but that won't stop my anxiety from trying to convince me otherwise.

During that aforementioned November-December period, I was extremely paranoid of forgetting things and kept feeling like I'd forgotten something important I'd promised to do for someone. To my knowledge, I hadn't, but I was thoroughly convinced.

Worth mentioning as a preface for this point that I rarely remember my dreams, and have some kind of disorder that effects my ability to reach REM sleep in the first place. Also during that period, I had a number of vivid but realistic nightmares that I couldn't remember were only nightmares. I hesitate in fear of sounding overdramatic, but for a couple weeks I more or less had false memories. I still can't place if some things did actually happen. This has happened before, but I've always been able to dismiss things as dreams before.

Once more during this period, I had managed to forget the identities of some individuals in part responsible for some actually substantial drama (meaning beyond the typical petty things most see), also involving two now former friends. I made another mistake in panicking when confronted with screenshots I wasn't in of a server neither of them were in and reacted closed off and reluctant to share any information one way or the other. I absolutely will not be divulging anything about the pair. Regardless of my feelings or want to apologize, I respect that I hurt them and their desire not to speak with me anymore- and especially their privacy.

I have been stalked out of a different rpc years before I entered this one. A member of that community that assisted in stalking me reached out around the same time as the above point. This is small and it's stupid that it had the effect on me that it did, but I figure it's related and thus worth mentioning.

Several of my co-workers left last year, revealing some not great practices going on behind the scenes of what is essentially my ideal job and one I wanted since I was a kid. I still have the job, and while I haven't experienced any of the issues firsthand to my knowledge- none were extreme or too bad, but the fact anyone was mistreated upsets me- I still feel guilty occasionally for not only keeping the position but enjoying it. I can't remember exactly what some of the mistreatments were, either, which makes me feel all the more guilty.

One of our regulars at my job died in the building last year. I didn't know of the fact until the next day despite interacting with that regular at least three times I can remember the day they died. There have also been a number of emergencies regarding patrons in a comparatively short span of time this last month. I am incapable of worrying about myself, and thus my anxiety has latched onto the wellbeing of my coworkers.

#They Pull the Strings : OOC

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cockadoodlebumtits · 2 years ago

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Mentioned all the renewed Goncharov (1973) hype to my mum and she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, your aunt was really excited about that film when it came out, she got all the girls at the office to watch it. They even made little leaflets for each other and made copies when the boss wasn’t looking.” I couldn’t believe it. My Auntie Pat, making what sounded like early Goncharov zines? Was Mum sure it was Goncharov? “Trust me, I remember. I used to call it ‘God, Shut Up!’ to annoy her.”

So obviously I have never rung my aunt so fast in my life. I hardly dared to hope she’d still have some bits of paper from her first job kicking around 49 years later (she did not appreciate me phrasing it like that, for the record) but she loved the film so much... Here’s what she could dig out for me without completely turning the house upside down. Apparently they were in her ‘important documents’ folder along with less essential things such as her kids’ birth certificates, vaccination records, etc. Full transcript below the cut.

[Image 1: A scan of a photocopy of the first page of an old typewritten zine. It's quite legible, considering. A hand-drawn title at the top of the page reads 'THE WEDNESDAY CHIMES' in capitals. The 'C' of 'CHIMES' has a little clock face drawn in it.

The typewritten portion of the page reads as follows (titles were originally in red, but are just in a slightly paler grey on the photocopy).]

A GONCHAROV ZINE INSPIRED BY STAR TREK ZINES – 7TH OF NOVEMBER, 1973, BRIGHTON

Joan Chipperfield, Nancy O'Reilly, Linda McGregor, Susan Armitage, Maggie Williams, Mary Coleman, Pat Hutchinson.

Thank you to all you ladies for contributing, please don't forget to put a few pence in the petty cash (new pence, Mags) to cover reproduction costs. -LM

THE CLOCKTOWER. The scene at the clocktower was one of our favourites, of course, but one thing we haven't really discussed is the use of colour in this part of the film. This was the turning point for the red-blue colour motifs, in my opinion, so it has a lot of both colours in the way it's lit and the various characters' [deleted word] palettes. I'm pretty sure this was when the Goncharovs' colour palette first diverged, with the first appearance of Goncharov's red tie replacing his blue one, and Katya still wearing only cool colours like her trademark grey/silver and her blue brooch. Obviously they're in two different physical places at this point but as the film cuts between them these colours show that they're also not on the same page emotionally. I think Andrey is actually [misspelt 'actualy'] wearing less red than in some of the previous scenes (even excluding the opening, which is in the future, where everything is red) showing how tired he is at this point. If anyone remembers exactly what Andrey was wearing please let me know – I'm honestly not certain. Did he still have his wrist-watch at this point or had he already lost it? -SA

KATYA. I just think it's really sad that Katya is trying so hard to make her life work even though everything is against her – Goncharov himself, her guilt over her father and what happened to him, even sometimes Sofia – but she keeps going and she is doing her best, but then it all comes crashing down around her anyway. -MC

GONCHAROV AND ANDREY. I don't know if this makes any sense, but it sort of feels as though Andrey is more like Goncharov's wife than Katya is. Whenever he has a bad day in the film, he turns to Andrey instead of Katya. And then, to a certain extent, this is mirrored by Katya's relationship with Sofia. She's protective of her and she's trying to help her make her way in the world, but she also relies on her far more than she ever does on Goncharov. I just think that's really interesting. -PH

MUSICAL SCORE. I don't know how you all remember so much about the film so long after we went to the pictures. All I remember is that the tickets were too expensive for how many times in a row we saw it, and I can't believe I let you talk me into it oh and also the music was very good, I enjoyed that immensely. I wish the orchestra would visit for a concert so we could all appreciate it again. -JC

APPLE FRIEND. I want to know more about the 'old friend' who gave Katya the apple in the market. There are so many unanswered questions about their relationship in the past and what that friend is doing there now, because aren't they in Italy? I don't remember if they were there to try to take over Naples or if they moved to get away from their old lives and events overwhelmed them to the point where they tried to take over Naples but either way it seems very far away to bump into an old friend unless that old friend was there for a reason. What was apple friend doing there? I think maybe it's a bit like the apple in Snow White, and Katya was right not to eat it. What do you all think? -MW

ICE PICK MAN. What was his name? Joe? I would have watched a whole film about him, to be honest. He was a very exciting character and in many ways he went on almost the same journey as Goncharov, only faster. I wonder if he had a Katya somewhere, waiting for him to come home. -NOR

[The page is signed with the typewritten initials LM, next to the page number 1. Both of these details are in the paler grey that was originally red.]

[Image 2: A scan of a photocopy of the first page of an old typewritten zine. It's quite legible, considering. A hand-drawn picture sits in the top-left of the page, incorporating the word 'CHIMES'. It is a scene featuring a small town with a church in the foreground, a river, and a small copse of trees with a flower. The river runs over the 'M' of the word 'CHIMES', which is incorporated into the drawing to resemble a bridge. The 'C' has a pair of clock hands in it, and in the top of the M is a little platform with two figures on it.

The typewritten portion of the page reads as follows (titles were originally in red, but are just in a slightly paler grey on the photocopy).]

A GONCHAROV ZINE – 23RD OF JANUARY, 1974.

Joan Chipperfield, Nancy O'Reilly, Linda McGregor, Susan Armitage, Maggie Williams, Mary Coleman, Pat Hutchinson.

Thank you to all contributors, money in the petty cash please. -NOR

SOMEONE WHO LOVES YOU. “Katya.” She turned in the doorway of the room, meeting Sofia's eyes in the mirror of the vanity. “I hope, more than anything, that one day you find someone who loves you. Someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.” What could Katya say to that? It was all she had ever wanted for herself, but it was forever out of reach. Once, she had hoped that her husband would be that person. But the time for such dreams was long past. She was silent for too long, and Sofia spoke again. “Well? Aren't you going to say it back?” But Katya couldn't. -LM

THE BATH. I keep coming back to the bath scene – I know you're all sick of hearing about it. But given Goncharov's fear of drowning and the unease and distrust in this scene in general, the fact that the bath was so full, too full, to the point where Goncharov can't even move without water slopping over the side onto the floor, so he just sits there and barely moves except to shiver... I don't know, I feel like that means something, and I'm going to work it out. -PH

A KINDER FAREWELL. Goncharov could see nothing but the gun, for a moment, his very breath catching in his throat. Then he forced his gaze upwards, to Andrey's face. “Must it end this way?” Andrey swallowed hard. “All things end this way, Goncharov.” “But must they? Can't we make some time to find a better way? Can't we just... go away from all this? You and I? Where they will never find us?” Andrey's hand, holding the gun, shook. He lowered it slowly. “Where could we go?” “Anywhere you like,” said Goncharov, and they walked away together. They found a little house in France and lived happily ever after, and nobody from their old lives ever found them. -JC

JUST A FEW NOTES. The opening scene of the film really sticks in my mind, because even though none of the other characters appear in that opening scene, the piece of music that plays every time Andrey is on screen is underscored by all those little tunes that go with the other characters. I noticed it on the second or third night we went – to begin with Andrey's theme is alone, but then it's joined by little pieces of Goncharov's, Katya's, and Sofia's. I think the little two-note sting from Ice Pick Joe's final scene even appears, but very slowly and gently. Very clever! -SA

NOBODY EVER SLEEPS. None of these characters seem to stop for a moment! Even when we see Katya and Goncharov in their dressing gowns, getting ready to go to bed, it turns into an argument and Goncharov leaves. (I do think it's funny to imagine him out wandering through Naples in his dressing gown, being angry. Scary Mafia man that he is.) And when Sofia appears to be asleep that time, she opens her eyes at the end of the scene, revealing that she's been listening all along. It's a wonderful film but I get tired just thinking about how exhausted they must be. -MW

THEY CALLED ME JOE. Disappearing had been a gruesome business. Joe hadn't enjoyed carefully staging his own death, arranging for a witness, manipulating events so he would appear to be violently killed. But there had been no other way. Joe had been trapped in a cycle of brutality, known by the weapon he wielded and not the name that meant family or home. Escaping from the mess he'd got into – the mess he'd made – in Naples meant leaving it all behind, both the good and the bad. It semed seemed to Joe that most of the people he knew there who weren't already dead would be soon. So he staged his death, and he fled everything that he knew, and he got himself a nice job selling ice creams on Brighton beach. He met a nice girl one day, and she said, “well, what do your friends call you?” “They called me Joe,” he said. -MC

[The page is signed with the typewritten initials NOR, next to the page number 1. Both of these details are in the paler grey that was originally red. End ID.]

(Also, credits: the paper background is by Annie Sprat on Unsplash and the font is Remington Noiseless, via dafont.)

#goncharov #unreality #i thought we were missing something #i absolutely had other things to do today but here we are #explanation in the link in the title

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listen-to-the-inner-walrus · 1 year ago

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you mentioned in one of your posts about titanic (maybe?) something to do with the philosophy of lifeboats and idk why but the idea of it has been stuck in my mind for at least a week now and i only just refound the post today. could you pls explain what you meant by it?

hello anon, you must have seen my post nitpicking how j bruce ismays character was handled in the titanic movie when i very briefly mentioned the philosophy of lifeboats thing because I Was Being Petty lmao

but yeah so this is gonna be a dumb-downed explanation about a topic thats fairly complex. also im just not gonna get into the debacle of liferafts because im gonna try and keep it simple.

[edit: i have very much failed at keeping it short or simple so if you are interested, come join me after the cut]

see, its only really been within the last century or so that weve regarded lifeboats as things you can escape a sinking ship on and remain within until rescue arrives.

which sounds kinda insane when thinking about it from a modern point of view, right? like in regards to modern sinking incidents or disasters at sea like say the ms achille lauro, msc napoli, ms estonia or even the ss henry steinbrenner to go back to 1953, the story of the rescue is the passengers board the lifeboats, get a safe distance away from the sinking ship and wait for rescue. and nowadays, if this occurs to you, your chance of survival is fairly high.

so its understandable for people to initially be confused as to why this is a modern school of thought as it seems very logical and is what the namesake implies. and for that, we have to put this into the context of the developments within lifeboat technology.

and im aware of how pretentious that sounds, but its a very important part of this discussion.

to start, im unfortunately going to have use the titanic as an example because its the only point of reference for most people.

when we look back at the titanic today, we can very easily criticise white star line and harland & wolff simply for not including enough lifeboats on board. and while those are not undue criticisms, they are unduly harsh.

yes, it is ridiculous to not have enough lifeboats on board for all passengers, but back in the 1910s, naval architects found it ridiculous to suggest ships should have that many.

because this is what titanics lifeboats looked like:

compared to modern day lifeboats:

now, you might notice just how different these are: modern day lifeboats tend to be enclosed; they are made of sturdier material; theyre much more buoyant; they have radios on board; are at significantly less risk of capsizing; are legally mandated to come with a sea anchor that can be used to steady your boat; and often can operate under their own power.

also, your ship probably had an epirb (emergency position-indicating radio beacon) or something similar that sent out an automatic distress signal if you werent able to do so yourself.

modern lifeboats can withstand the tumultuous nature of the ocean for a, relatively speaking, very long time and that allows for rescue. thats why people are sometimes rescued from a lifeboat several days after a shipwreck and why rescuers can sometimes be conservative in their rescue, such as waiting for the weather to clear up before approaching.

if youre nearer the equator, you could likely survive weeks within a lifeboat if rescuers either couldnt find you or couldnt reach you.

but thats not always been the case.

for a long time, lifeboats were these tiny, rickety, wooden boats (as seen in those photos above) that were easily capsized or sank if they came into contact with even the smallest of waves.

if you needed to sail further from the sinking ship or toward land, you would have to do it with wooden paddles and depending on the state of rescue, you might not even have them. your methods of communication were a limited number of flares where you couldnt be sure theyd even work, rocket flares that again night not even work, a torch, a whistle, or just shouting which rarely ever helped.

so even if you could evacuate safely onto a lifeboat, there was no guarantee that youd be able to signal down another ship or potentially an aircraft.

if you werent able to send out a distress signal or were just on a ship that didnt have the technology to do so, no one would know you were in trouble for hours, if you were lucky. for some, it took days or even weeks.

at approximately 2:15am on the 30 november 1966, the ss daniel j morrell broke in half on lake huron. she was not reported missing for ten hours, after which the coast guard dispatched search and rescue vessels. among the 29 crew aboard, only 1 man survived: dennis hale. he was rescued after nearly 14 hours in a liferaft wherein a further 3 men had passed while waiting for rescue. during those 14 hours, the liferaft had been capsized multiple times sending the few survivors into the freezing waters over and over again. [x]

or for an even more extreme example, take the ss naronic. she set sail on 11th february 1893 from liverpool; she was expected to arrive in new york around the 21st february. she never did arrive, and as this was 5 years before the marconi wireless set would be available on ships, the crew could not put out a distress signal. as the ocean was experiencing bad storms, there was no worry about the ship to begin with as it was presumed she was delayed. it took until the 13 march before any alarms were raised. by then, 74 lives had been lost, and to this day, we dont know anything about why she disappeared. its presumed she sank, but no wreck has been found. while her lifeboats were found, that wasnt the case for survivors. [x]

and even if you were lucky enough to have sent out a distress signal, be relatively safe aboard a lifeboat and have ample methods for communicating, you were still at the mercy of the sea. rescue was coming, but there was no guarantee your lifeboat would stay afloat until it arrived.

it was miraculous that titanics lifeboats were able to stay afloat until the carpathia arrived, and that was only around an hour and a half after the titanic had gone down. because this happened in the north atlantic; any other night, the number of casualties would have been significantly higher because those lifeboats would not have survived in rough seas or a storm.

titanic was the exception to the rule; it was the odd duck. and to exemplify this, lets talk about the clallam, the ss valencia and the ss princess sophia.

quick warning about these ships: these were very tragic incidents with monumental loss of life. out of the approximately 608 people who were aboard one of the three ships, only 83 people survived.

(the ss princess sophia is a particularly tragic incident and its one that has made me cry multiple times so just a warning with that.)

we'll begin with the clallam which was a steamboat that ran a regular route from tacoma to seattle to port townsend to victoria. she ran into trouble during a storm while on this run on the 8 january 1904, with 92 people aboard.

she began taking on water when the deadlight was smashed by the waves, and the emergency pumps aboard were not working. this meant they had very little chance of saving her from sinking, especially when the water entered the boiler and cut out the power.

at this point, you may think that the best case scenario for survival would be to abandon ship, but that assumption was quickly proven false.

around 3pm, captain george roberts ordered the ships 3 lifeboats lowered. these were mostly filled by women and children, which makes what came next even more tragic. within minutes of the boats being lowered, they capsized in the rough waters.

everyone on board the lifeboats drowned; all 56 people on board.

but the clallam stayed afloat for several more hours. this gave enough time for the steam tug richard holyoke to arrive on scene, and eventually the 36 people remaining on the clallam were rescued.

all children aboard drowned when the lifeboats were lowered because in 1906, lifeboats were just as much death traps as they were lifeboats. [x] [x]

the sinking of the ss valencia is a similar tale. she was a passenger steamer that was briefly filling in the route of the ss city of puebla, which ran the san fran to seattle route, in january of 1906.

on the 20th, she set sail with around 173 people aboard. the captain aboard was unfamiliar with the route and visibility was so low that the crew could not make celestial observations (by using a sextant, for example) to determine where they were. instead, they had to rely on dead reckoning.

while dead reckoning is fairly reliable, is subject to errors like directional drift and cumulative errors are particularly disastrous and can cause tragedies like the honda point disaster. further, its been alleged the captain did not know how dead reckoning works.

this led to the valencia striking a reef on the night of the 22 january. she was less than 100 yards from shore, but the water around her was rough.

6 of the 7 lifeboats were lowered quickly, as had occured on the clallam. 3 of the boats flipped while being lowered, emptying the survivors into the ocean. the 3 that were lowered successfully did not fair better as 2 of them capsized very quickly and the 3rd simply disappeared.

the last lifeboat was the only one that made it to shore. but still, they had to hike for 2½ hours before they could find help.

while various ships responded to valencias distress call, they were not able to get close enough to offer much assistance. the crew of the valencia launched the 2 life rafts aboard in hopes of drifting close enough to another ship to be rescued. this happened for 18 men on one of the rafts as they were rescued by the city of topeka. the second raft drifted ashore and the 4 survivors aboard were rescued by a group of first nations from the island.

soon, the valencia was washed off of the rocks and she sank. those still on board went down with the ship.

of the approximate 173 people on board, 136 of them died during the disaster. similar to the clallam again, every child on board died. [x]

and this brings us into the ss princess sophia which was a canadian passenger liner. she set sail on the 23rd october in 1918 with 343 people on board. in the early hours of the 24th, she ran aground on vanderbilt reef.

though she was able to send out a distress call and a rescue flotilla of boats were able to arrive on scene, the ss princess sophia took all 343 souls aboard with her when she was eventually washed off of the reef and into the ocean.

now, this is when we get into what lifeboats were intended for back then. the evacuation plan would be for the 8 steel lifeboats aboard sophia to be lowered with passengers and crew members aboard, and paddled toward one of the various rescue ships. the passengers would be taken aboard while the crew would paddle back to the sophia where more passengers would come aboard and be ferried to safety.

this is what happened when the rms republic sank in 1909 and what occured with the ss andrea doria in 1956 though in that case, they only had enough lifeboats to rescue everyone once the ss île de france arrived on scene as dorias list meant half her lifeboats could not be lowered.

unfortunately, captain locke never saw a time where he believed this process could occur. there was only a very short break in the storm, but even during those 5 hours, the ocean was rough with high waves.

captain ledbetter captained the uslht cedar, one of the rescue ships, and went on record saying he never saw conditions that would have permitted an evacuation. [x] [x]

these three cases both exemplify the philosophy of lifeboats only a century ago and why we cant simply apply a modern lens to it without missing crucial details.

now lets quickly detour back to the titanic.

as most people know, there were not enough lifeboats aboard for everyone aboard.

this is one of the nitpicks i have about titanic because the portrayal of it paints a warped picture.

so with everything ive rambled on about in this post, we can see why this decision was made. they only needed enough lifeboats to safely ferry passengers from a sinking ship to rescue.

and it was believed that this was a viable evacuation plan in the case that titanic sank. the route she was sailing was a very busy route that often had at least 5-6 ships nearby that could answer a distress call. this is exactly what happened with the rms republic which i mentioned above.

this belief wasnt unique to the titanic or even the white star line. it was held about every ocean liner sailing as these ships were often able to stay afloat for hours acting as its own giant lifeboat due to safety measures and developments like watertight compartments.

and titanic did stay afloat for over 2 hours as it sank. rms republic took over 24 hours irrc while the ocean liner it collided with, the ss florida, was able to sail to port for rescues. ss andrea doria took 10 hours to sink.

during her sea trials in 1927, the ss malolo collided with a freighter (impact equal to the icebrrg to titanic) and was still able to stay afloat and sail despite being flooded with over 7000 tons of sea water.

this belief was clearly not unfounded.

however, the sinking of the titanic practically shattered it. and from then on, almost all ships had enough lifeboat capacity for every passenger on board as it introduced a new function to lifeboats.

and this kinda leads us into the somewhat conclusion to this rambling mess that very much could have been shorter and much simpler.

but anyway,

put simply, by philosophy of lifeboats, i mean how the function of a lifeboat evolved alongside developments in technology and maritime disasters.

it seemingly had never occured to naval architects pre-titanic that what occured that night in 1912 was a hypothetical they needed to consider.

lifeboats are still used today to ferry survivors to safety if that is what the situation necessitates, but they are now also designed to function as their namesake implies.

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musesofthemoon · 1 year ago

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There's a part of the vessel that feels disquieted by the laughter that echoes. Not for its own sake, however. The beast had prepared for many eventualities, and this was just one in the line. With a single flick of the wrist as a signal, as the guilt first leaves his mouth, one of those working in the back rooms knows to cut the audio. Truly, for someone who had evaded him for so long, he certainly thought that this would be made easy. He could act as horrifyingly gauche as he wanted, the whole of Wonderland wouldn't be hearing it. Such a truth... Ah, what the citizens of Gaudium didn't know certainly wouldn't hurt them.

Stop stop please we don't need to do this. I can't keep watching this please.

Ah, there it is, its vessel trying so deeply to know better. However, such things were much too petty, and Chaos knew that there wasn't anything it could do to stop this. It's attempts were feeble, nothing to worry about in the long run. It would continue until this rebellion was squashed. Never fear little one, this is what he deserves...

The creature only half listens to his little tirade forward. It's amusing, the word of monster. Funny that those before it were considered good and wonderful for their creation, but when another tries, they're deemed monster. How hypocritical it seemed. But neither would ever admit to fault, and so that war of ideals continued. And then, he's finished talking, so it's Chaos' turn to continue, time to finally end this as the Cloud so desperately wanted.

A breath is taken, as if to signal that Chaos is ready to speak again. Such was the letter this planning was taken to. Even gestures needed to be practiced, and thankfully years of planning had made such things easy to execute. Maybe it was too much, for how well everything was going, and yet the beast couldn't care less. Accounting for everything, that was how a true leader needed to act, was it not?

"You certainly heard him, didn't you? Guilty to all charges! Not a single word in his defense!" Chaos' tone is filled with glee at the sounds of it. For now, it can get to the fun part, the most interesting part of the deal. The execution. For those few who might still be holding out hope that the man before them was their shining beacon of light, this would quickly snuff it out.

The trial should be over quickly, because it's the sentence that's really the fun!

Speaking of fun, the sight of another soon fills its eyes, which quickly gives it another part of its plan. The General... She'd been acting out of turn about this one, hadn't she? It's former servant had gotten to her. Certainly, it was to be expected. Through it's memories, it could see that she had felt closer to him than the boy. For this, it would remove any doubts in her mind. At least, that was the aim. And it's sure that having her act this out would make the rift between the two deep enough that it wouldn't be a problem...

To that point, the beast takes its attention off the prisoner to speak with the girl, while the camera continues to focus on the Cloud. This wouldn't take long. "My Dear Soldier..." it states, it's words coated with a sickeningly sweet honey. She needed to do as it said, and the gentle hand was the best to start with. Then, when the voice needs to be raised, it can justify such an outburst. "Be a dear and hold him still, would you?"

And at such a point, the General was at a crossroads.

For one, she had this anger that she was holding on to, that she was keeping in her being that wanted to be released toward him. That would be enough to take care of it. Be the reason the life drained from him for those few precious minutes. Maybe then he would listen. Maybe then he'd stop treating her like some unknowing child and give her the respect that she'd earned. Once she sealed his fate, there would be no going back.

And that was the problem, that crossing between the child she was and the creature she was trying to become. There were still parts of herself that she looked back to. Still parts of the past she didn't wish to forget. So many of them began to resurface and she looked to the other. The wish to be cared for, protected. To not have to fight and kill and bleed for something wearing the skin of her brother, just for the faint promise that maybe he still fought to keep himself. Was it her responsibility? Her cross to bear?

And she thinks to White Cloud once more. What he had earlier done. Yelled out for her protection when in reality, there was nothing she had exhibited thus far to even warrant it. Since they had met again, all she'd done was snap at him for wrongdoings she may not even understand the full scope of. She'd never listened to his side, all because of that burbling anger.

Such anger had never steered her right in the past, not really.

She recalls then, how deeply he'd shown care in the past. All those times he had mentioned, coming to the surface. Where they could merely exist together, without worry of the falling kingdoms or their possible roles in all of this. He was one of the few people who treated them like the children they were... The child that deep down, Ai Hayakawa still wished to be.

She had fought in the past not because she wanted to, but because she felt that burden on her shoulders. For the sake of her brother, to keep him from violence. However, what stood before her right now was not her brother. There was a lot she'd do, even without him being the focus. But that decision came to her clearly and in the moment.

That beast could do whatever it pleased with him, there wasn't anything in the world that she could do to stop it.

But she refused to be a part of it.

"I won't do it." Her words are quiet and shaking, as if she'd never spoken before this point. And in that moment, both forms are still as stone. Operators and guards alike stare at the two, as no one could believe just what they were hearing.

"Excuse me? I don't think I heard you properly." It's tone is quiet as it moves closer to the girl, staring at her with an unparalleled intensity. She had one last chance. Turn it around and you won't face the consequences. But despite the way her legs shake with fear and the choking feeling left inside her throat she remains firm.

"I said I won't do it!" Louder this time. Another beat of silence between them. One could cut the tension around them with a knife if they so desired. The waiting is worse than any punishment that the beast could give her, but this was her resolve. She had signed his death warrant already, was that not enough to prove herself? Her loyalty? Perhaps not.

The silence is broken by the girl being slapped square across the face.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ There is the sound of laughter echoing all around him but no one in the room dares utter a sound while the beast is speaking. No one except him of course. There is no one in the room that dares defy this Lord Entropy and well knowing Chaos for the monster it truly is, he can't say he blames them. If this had been eighteen years ago, he would have been dropping his horns too.

Not now though.

Not now that he understands what this world was and how this beast created it. Not now that he's come to understand more than just his own powers and what it truly means to be an Unlimited. The crown on his head is once again an oath. An oath to more people than just those few who are left with Mist in their blood. No to all the souls in the universe - Mist and Soil alike - he has pledged himself in service to them with the carefully crafted steps of his people.

Chaos would not steal his Kingdom away from him again.

But the beast is pacing and he can almost feel the cameras turn as this monster born in flesh that does not belong to it move closer he finally calms himself enough to listen and he hears the rhyming of the tale.

Another name, it says. It says that he goes by another name and the beast is both correct and incorrect at the same times. There are many names he hails to but as is the state of one immortal life. Chaos could say the same of itself after all.

Before it continues, it reaches. He couldn't jerk his head away fast enough before and he certainly can't do it in the restricted state he is in now. There is a large hand gripping him by the chin and turning his head to face the camera lense that is fixated on them all while fingers dig into his face with enough force to smush his cheeks and only bring more annoyance into this Lunar Royal's features.

"...This is the face of the White Devil." The beast proclaims and of course it would go for the one thing in his past, he's attempted to bury at all costs.

The - what he can only assume is pre-recorded - track of gasping plays overhead and he doesn't need to guess to know that Wonderland has been metaphorically sat on fire with a single sentence. Many of his subjects hadn't a clue. Most of them had never met him...and there is a large section of the public that has never even seen his face.

A deep exhale leaves him in both relief and exasperation when that hand is finally removed from his face. White slumber rolls out of him, staining his lips with its sweet scent as it slowly sinks down to the floor of the room, only to linger around their feet.

However the beast is walking away from him to tell all of Wonderland how he has many crimes to answer for and that they'll have the pleasure of hearing them all out.

So that's what this show is for.

This is public humiliation and an execution. Wonderful. The beast doesn't just plan to kill him but it needs to remind him of his place by destroying his life's work while it's at it. How kind of it. Of course Chaos would go this far. The bastard....

"Valkoinen Pilvi... "

The sound of his name cuts through the air like a knife, only for the words to follow to take that same knife and plunge it straight into his chest.

".....The charges against you are as follows:"

And a comically long piece of paper is rolling his direction as the beast begins to read.

Larceny it says when he just told it he hadn't stolen anything and then it has the gall to accuse him of kidnapping when he's the one whose been stuck in chains since they ambushed him and stole him right off a public pathway. Kidnapping they say, when he's the one being held captive here and then a ridiculously long number falls off this monster's lips as it proceeds to accuse him of aiding and abetting in murder.

Really, this is entire list is screwed up and the more this monster reads, the more he sees that. The more he finds himself repressing the urge to laugh. A deep rumbling sound building up in his belly that becomes harder and harder to repress the more his transgressions make their way into the air and the longer he's forced to hang here fastened to this stake in the ground - such a special place made just for him.

Finally, Wonderland sees him for what he is. He's a wrong turn. He's missed sign. He's a red flag and perhaps that's why red truly was the color of Royalty - because in every other culture but his own, it's a warning. He is everything that Chaos deemed him to be. He was a heretic. A heathen.

How he could be anything else after all the things he's done?

No longer did he shine with the Celestial Mother's light. Her blessed son he may be but the truth of it all was that he had been demon born from the start. Monsters aren't created after all. No their natures are just revealed over the course of time. Too much of the Universe's punishment can twist anyone to show the darker parts of their soul. Even shadows exist within the light.

And he's tried to hide it for too long.

He can't keep living this way.

A beast is what he is and always has been. He knows this just as well the beast before him. He knows it well for all years it was ground into his head over and over, so as the demon's voice fades away something breaks within the lunar royalty, rendering the King into that of a shattering moon.

A laugh rips from his throat and rumbles from his belly like joyous thunder. Clearly there's something wrong. Clearly there is something shifting within the space of the White King's sanity.

"Guilty." He admits plainly without putting forth any form of a fight. "I am your White Devil. A former Lord of Gaudium. Lord Makenshi. You all would know me better as the Death Lord, I am."

And he can't stop himself from laughing.

The irony of it all.

All his work to make this world a better place thrown straight into the fire right along with whatever will be left of him once Chaos is through with his corpse.

He did the only thing he could to his past and the only thing he ever knew how to do and that was to run as far and as fast as he could.

But he was never any good at running and he always got caught. What's changed in all these years? Nothing. Here he was caught again, restricted and restrained made to pay for his transgressions just as he always had been.

Chaos was not just trying to reassume it's control over Wonderland, but instead it's rightful place as his guiding hand. What kind of twisted irony was this?

"You've made your point, Master."

The sound of his crazed cackling cantata fills the space around them as he drops his tone to emphasize the final word.

"Let Wonderland see you for the monster you are. Get it over with and kill me. I will pay my debts to you just as I always have. My life belongs to Wonderland now. So I will tell you just as I always have, I have never belonged to you."

#ai - ic #ai - threads #yu - ic #yu - threads #ai - verse - reign of entropy #yu - verse - reign of entropy #shiroi---kumo #thread: a forced hand #tw; dehumanization #tw; depersonalization #tw; death mention #tw; forced restraint #tw; propaganda #tw; manipulation #if i missed something please lmk #HOLY HECK #this was so much #sorry except i'm not

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