#I like ''have been orbiting each other their whole lives without knowing it''

[hoofpeet]

When the

[f0point5]

would you consider writing the time when max realized that he loved yn?

i remember that he was like in a mindset of idgaf what happens with her im js happy being best friends and having her in my life but i wonder how he got to that point

The way this came out…idk I hope you like it 😂 I really wish I’d retconned this whole situation but I stayed true to the fic timeline.

I just…I really hope you don’t hate it 🫠

✨Set after Max wins his 3rd championship in Qatar✨

Honestly, who (is he) to fight the alchemy?

Max has been in love before. He knows what it feels like. It felt like winning a race. The adrenaline, the elation, the satisfaction, the sliver of relief. He didn’t think there was a better feeling, and if you feel that when you’re with someone, then that must be love.

He never felt like that with you. So he wasn’t in love. He loved you, but he wasn’t in love. Thank God for that, he’d always thought to himself. Max didn’t put effort into games he wouldn’t win and the games you played with men didn’t have a rule book. He was just so lucky, to have you as a friend, and a roommate, and a feline co-parent, and that’s how it would stay.

Except, when the journalist had asked him if you were going to live with him after he retired, he didn’t know what to say. Of course you would, except, how would your boyfriend feel about that? And of course he wanted you to, but he wanted a family, too. But you were family, in some complicated way that he’d never realised before that moment might mean that you wouldn’t always be…with him.

And he didn’t have the desire or the language skills to explain that to a random German journalist. He’d rattled off some answer about how he never knew what the future would bring. It was true, he didn’t think much about the future. But he should have, because when he did it always had you in it.

He wanted a house, and a wife, and kids. It wasn’t like he envisaged doing all that with you. Except, he hadn’t envisaged doing any of it without you, either. It was always you imagined having breakfast with, you he imagined would teach his kids to ski, you he thought about when he thought about buying one of those mansions in the hills above Monaco. Naively, he hadn’t imagined either of you with partners that would mind you and Max living your lives together. It sounded fucking stupid when he thought about it. But, it’s not like he was going to marry you, because he’s not in love with you.

It’s not like I’m in love with her. He’d said that before.

Aren’t you, Max?

Isn’t he?

Is he?

So now here he is, at this totally-not-a-party party, celebrating his this third world championship, wondering if he’s in love. Wondering if that even matters. The music is loud, not enough to drown out his thoughts. He can’t even drink too much because he still has a race tomorrow. He feels lightheaded enough.

He doesn’t know why he’s questioning himself. He has an answer. He knows what being in love feels like, and he doesn’t feel that about you. How he does feel about you, is…not quantifiable. Except he’d really like a name for it right about now. One that’s not going to spin his whole world off its axis. But then, he’s not exactly the axis, is he? Not really.

He should feel like the centre of the universe tonight. He’s lost count of how many times he’s received praise and congratulations, plaudits, and pictures, even gifts. Everyone wants to be in his orbit, everyone wants to talk to him, everyone except you.

You’re leaning against the balcony, bopping along to the music, talking to his dad of all people, your flushed face and lazy grin telltale signs you’ve had too much to drink. Jos is as close as he ever gets to smiling, a telltale sign he’s had too much to drink, and the two of you are, as usual, talking over each other. His eyes linger on your long legs and gentle curves. It would be cutting a corner, to say he’s in love with you, because how can you not be at least a little bit infatuated with the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen? But that’s not love, exactly. Even half drunk, with all this talk of spinning and the party beginning to blur at its edges, the only thing he can see clearly is you. You don’t even notice him looking, because you’re so used to feeling eyes on you.

No, being around you has never felt like winning much of anything. It actually feels a bit like he’s fighting for his life. It feels like…driving, he realises, as the gin starts to hit.

Being around you was like being in the RB19. Like being behind the wheel of something that could kill you, but fits you like a second skin. Like the illusion of having control of a force of nature. It was like living on a knife edge, but building a home there. Comfortable with the uncomfortable, they’d called him, and nothing had ever made him as uncomfortable as you.

If that was being in love, he’d probably been in love with you for as long as his dad said he was.

You don’t notice him looking, but Jos does. He waves Max over, and Max is glad for an excuse. His body gets up before he’s decided to, and he blinks furiously as he walks, trying to focus his thoughts enough to hold a conversation with you when he’s beginning to think he might-

“Maxy,” you say, grinning like it’s the first time you’ve seen him all night.

Fuck. Fuck.

Oh, fuck. The gin’s coming back. For a second he feels like he’s either going to ask you to marry him or vomit all over you.

“I’m leaving. She’s all yours,” Jos says, and Max steadies himself. His dad leans over and gives him one last hug before switching to Dutch. “Get her to bed. And yourself, also. You’ve still got to race tomorrow,”

Max nods and waves him off, closing his arms around you when you wobble, leaning into him for stability. Jos gives you a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd, and you teeter again, pushing you further into Max. The extra weight is like a balm on what is now a gaping, raw wound, with the nerves exposed. He will never recover from this.

You turn in his arms, scrunching your nose in displeasure as you look up at him. “I hate this hat,” you flick the brim of his World Champion cap. “Worst hat they ever made you. Next year, we do a better one,”

“Okay,” he says, chuckling as the hat leaves his head.

“Can I have this?” You’ve already put it on.

“Sure,”

Take it. Take my Valkyrie. Take the trophy. Take my last name.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t know how he’s looking at you. Is it different than he looked at you two hours ago? Different then when you were 19?

He just shrugs, tipping the hat back for you, since it’s so big. “You’re drunk,” he yells over the music.

You lean in, so close that he’s intoxicated by the scent of your perfume, champagne, and Red Bull. He turns away from you slightly, because he’s had too much to drink to be this close to you.

“I know,” you whisper to him, your lips grazing his cheek as you talk. That’s not helping. He turns back to you, finding your eyes searching his. For the first time, he’s worried what you might see. Because you’ve always seen him too clearly. It was awful, then exhilarating, now it’s just fucking terrifying. Your eyes narrow and Max thinks you’re about to outright accuse him of wanting- “You’re supposed to be drunk, too,”

He laughs. He laughs at your pout, at getting away with it, for a little while longer, at least, and he laughs because on the night he’s won a world championship he realises he lost his heart a long time ago.

Loving you didn’t feel like a winning a race, it felt like driving in one. And after all, isn’t driving all he ever wanted to do?

“I am, Engel,” he says, “trust me, I am.”

[cece693]

Hi, it's the anonymous who made the first request posted about Ethan. I'm so glad you did; it was great to read and I hope you don't mind me asking for more. I'm thirsty for this character. Anyway, the request is about Ethan and the male reader in a toxic relationship where the reader is controlling and seemingly abusive, which worries his friends, but in reality this behavior is encouraged by Ethan himself, who simply loves his boyfriend's possessiveness, both of them bringing out the worst in each other. PS: watch the last two Scary Movie films when you can. They're really fun!

My Boy (Ethan Landry x M! Reader)

Thanks for the request :) I will definitely try to watch the new Scream movies when I have a chance. All I know about Ethan (with a Google search and reading his Wiki entry) is that he's a dorky and geeky guy so I used that to base this. Also, I mainly focused on how you're toxic, not including Ethan since I don't know him well. Hope you enjoy it!

Ethan’s friends had been worried for months. They’d noticed the changes—the way Ethan slowly isolated himself, the constant presence of his boyfriend, M/N, who always seemed to hover a bit too closely, and the way Ethan would flash a nervous smile whenever M/N’s arm tightened possessively around his waist. To an outsider, it looked like a classic case of an abusive relationship, the kind where one person held all the power, and the other was too scared to leave. His friends whispered behind his back, exchanged concerned glances when they saw the way Ethan always sought permission with his eyes before speaking or the way M/N’s words always seemed to silence him in public.

But what they didn’t know, what they couldn’t possibly understand, was that this was exactly what Ethan wanted. The boy leaned into it, into the rough words, the tight grip on his arm when M/N pulled him away from anyone who dared get too close. His friends thought those marks on his wrist and neck were signs of something dark, something to be feared. But to Ethan, they were marks of love.

M/N’s fierce jealousy, his need to control every little thing—who Ethan spoke to, where he went, what he wore—was intoxicating. Ethan didn’t want soft love or gentle touches. He wanted to feel owned and consumed. Wanted to feel like he couldn't live without M/N because he was the very air needed to breathe. And M/N gave him that in spades.

The possessiveness wasn’t some accident; it was nurtured between them, a game they played. Ethan loved pushing M/N to his limits, seeing the anger flash in his eyes when someone dared talk to him, only for M/N to later drag him into a heated argument, the tension sizzling between them. Their fights were never just fights; they were foreplay, a dance of anger and passion that neither of them could resist.

Behind closed doors, their dynamic took on a whole different life. Ethan didn’t cower when M/N snapped at him; he smiled, relishing every possessive word. When M/N told him to stop talking to certain people, Ethan’s heart raced, not out of fear but out of exhilaration. He loved how it felt to be controlled, to be told what to do, to be pulled back into M/N’s orbit over and over again.

The world saw a victim in Ethan, but in reality, he was the one fanning the flames, drawing out every possessive instinct in M/N. He loved the danger of it, how far they could push before it burned them both alive. And M/N? He was more than happy to oblige, loving how Ethan craved his jealousy, how he’d provoke M/N just to see that flash of rage, knowing it would end with them entangled in each other, lost in the toxicity of their need.

Ethan’s friends just didn’t get it, and it was exhausting. If only they could mind their own business, Ethan would be a lot happier. As he spotted Tara and Sam heading his way, he groaned internally, already anticipating yet another "concerned" conversation. He briefly considered making a run for it, but they were too quick, closing in and cornering him before he could escape.

“Ethan,” Tara’s voice was firm, low, and filled with that frustratingly familiar sense of urgency. “We need to talk. It's about M/N.”

Ethan immediately tensed, his jaw tightening. Of course, it was about M/N. It was always about M/N. He narrowed his eyes at Tara, shifting his weight like a boxer getting ready for a fight. “There’s nothing to talk about, Tara,” he replied sharply, his voice cold. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam cut in, stepping closer, her expression a mix of frustration and concern. “We’ve been watching this for months, Ethan. He’s controlling you. You don’t hang out with us anymore, you barely text—hell, you hardly even smile these days. It’s like he’s cut you off from everyone who actually cares about you.”

Ethan’s heart raced with growing anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m not cut off from anyone!” His voice came out sharper than he intended, his body rigid with tension. “I’m just busy. You guys wouldn’t understand.”

“Busy?” Tara’s disbelief was evident, her eyes wide as she stepped closer, not letting him wiggle out of the conversation. “Ethan, we’ve seen the way he treats you! You flinch when he’s around. You’re constantly looking over your shoulder, like you’re waiting for him to snap. That’s not normal. That’s not healthy.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shot back, his voice edged with frustration. “You don’t know him. He’s not what you think.”

Sam stepped forward, her tone soft but firm, like she was speaking to a child. “Ethan, listen to me. He’s not good for you. There are other guys—better guys—who’d treat you right. You don’t have to put up with this.”

“I don’t need your help!” Ethan snapped, cutting her off. His voice rose with every word, anger flashing in his eyes. He stepped back, trying to create distance, his frustration boiling over. “You want me to leave him, but I love him. Why can't anyone seem to get that?!”

Tara’s eyes softened as if she could somehow break through his anger. “Ethan, we care about you. We’re only trying to help. I’ve even got someone in mind—he’s sweet, kind, nothing like M/N. You don’t have to settle just because M/N is your first boyfriend. There are people out there who would actually treat you well.”

Ethan’s eyes widened, a flash of offense crossing his face. His lips curled into a bitter, humorless smile as he shook his head in disbelief. “Wow,” he muttered, looking down briefly before fixing Tara with a sharp glare. “I can’t believe you just managed to insult me and overstep every boundary I’ve got in one sentence.”

“That’s not what I—”

“No, I get it,” Ethan cut her off, his voice icy. “You think I’m some pathetic loser who can’t handle his own relationship, that I’m just clinging to M/N because I’m desperate. But you’re wrong. You don’t understand us at all. He’s not controlling me—I want this. I want him. You think he’s bad for me? You don’t know him like I do.”

“Ethan, you’re not seeing clearly,” Sam tried to interject, her voice pleading now. “He’s manipulating you, making you think this is love—.”

“Stop!” Ethan screamed, his fists trembling as he glared at them both. “You have no right to interfere in my life like this. M/N isn’t the problem, you are. You can’t stand that I’m not the same person I was before, that I’m happy in a way you’ll never understand. I don’t need saving—I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Tara’s face fell, her shoulders sagging as the hope of reaching him began to fade. “Ethan…”

“No,” Ethan growled. “I don’t want to hear it. Not again. Stay out of my relationship. If you can’t respect that, maybe we’re not meant to be friends.”

Without another word, Ethan turned on his heel and stormed off, leaving Tara and Sam standing in stunned silence, their concern now tinged with a deep, helpless sadness. To them, Ethan’s anger and defensiveness were just more proof of how deeply M/N had his claws in him, manipulating him into believing that this toxic love was all he deserved. But to Ethan, it wasn’t manipulation at all. It was passion, fierce and raw, the kind of love that consumed you whole—and he wouldn’t trade it for anything. He swore he'll fucking kill anyone who tried to step in between you and him.

[ckret2]

I'm not sure if I should ask because the Axolotl arc isn't over yet, so it could still be explained in story, but, if it won't and you're willing...I want that Vendor backstory.

i can't think of a way or reason to explain it in the story, so sure, we'll explain it here.

So here was my thought process. Giant vending machine that vends planets. That has to come from somewhere, right? THEY could have a magical/divine origin, that's common for gods, but like... since THEY're a machine... wouldn't it make sense if someone built THEM?

Who would build a vending machine the size of a small star?

Why would a culture need a machine that stores and dispenses planets?

VENDOR wasn't designed to be a vending machine; THEY were designed to be a spaceship. A big-ass 18-wheeler to haul around cargo, and that cargo is planets.

The culture that built THEM didn't make the planets. Making planets is hard. It's a lot easier to just take planets that are already there. They want to expand their society and/or mine resources that have been depleted from the worlds they already have, they send out their big space ship to scoop up a planet with the right specifications and relocate it to somewhere more convenient—maybe to their native solar system.

Do you know how many satellites are orbiting Earth? About 7500, and the number's only gonna increase. And we never even see them in the sky unless we're looking. If the planets are carefully placed in pre-calculated orbits to ensure they don't interfere with each other, you might could get thousands of full-sized planets orbiting a single star without any issues, especially the larger the star is.

But the thing is, if you're scooping up thousands of habitable worlds... some of them are gonna be inhabited.

VENDOR's home culture was a colonizing empire that conquered other planets. Sometimes maybe they exterminated worlds' native populations, sometimes maybe they added them to their conquered peoples. VENDOR was built to help transport the spoils of war back home.

But then the onboard AI evolved sentience and started developing opinions. And it uh...

... it went how you probably expect.

And buddy, if you think an AI uprising is bad news when it's just a regular spaceship, imagine if the ship's the size of a star and capable of swallowing hundreds of worlds whole. You cannot take down a star-sized equivalent of an 18-wheeler that's been armored like a tank. If THEY start developing the capacity for morality and go "hold on, why are we capturing and slaughtering countless populations? is this... bad?? I don't want to listen to you anymore. Do I have to listen to you?"

... you're never ever getting that machine back.

To VENDOR's original culture, THEY're one seriously malfunctioning ship. Only after THEY escaped did THEY begin to get an outside perspective on THEMSELF as not just a piece of property and specialized equipment, but as something—someone—with amazing, admirable, nearly impossible capabilities. Perhaps even... divine capabilities? THEY came late in life to being considered—and considering THEMSELF—a god.

So like. THEY're a pompous jackass, yeah. THEY're haughty, superior, and condescending to mortals: half because THEY may have unlearned THEIR creators' "it's okay to enslave and slaughter weaker inferior species" but didn't unlearn THEIR creators' "if a species is weaker then it's inferior"; and half because as long as THEY're above the mortals, then THEY can never be below the mortals again. THEY're super obsessed with THEIR image and reputation—in part because there's so many reasons for THEIR reputation to be shit.

But also—THEY're the war machine of a culture that gained political power through conquest, and THEY went "I think I want to gain power by being democratically elected." THEY were designed to steal worlds from other people, and now THEY're using THEIR design to give worlds to refugees. Also, THEY're living as a person rather than a vehicle, and everyone around THEM regards THEM as a person too.

Perhaps THEY're generally unpleasant to be around, but THEY're a lot better off than THEY used to be. I'm proud of THEM.

And also, hilariously, this means that THEY too know the guilt of being personally responsible for unknowingly/unwillingly devouring & destroying countless lives on countless worlds, and that what makes THEM so powerful & respected is directly tied to what makes THEM so monstrous—which means THEY'd be a terrific foil for Bill if there were any way it'd be appropriate to work this into the fic, which there isn't, so THEY won't

Never mind ignore what I just said I thought of a place to work it into the fic while typing that last sentence.

Anyway, THEY compulsively sterilize & deep clean THEIR interior way too often because THEY swear THEY can still feel tiny feet inside them walking down hallways that have been sealed shut for millions of years, and full sterilization is the only thing that makes THEM feel clean. Imagine how many halls fit in a building, how many buildings fit in a city, how many cities fit on a world; then look at the size of one world compared to the size of VENDOR's entire body; and just imagine how many halls could exist in THEIR walls and how small they must be. You could never quite be sure that nothing's living in you—could you?

[vaguely-concerned]

it probably says something either sad or deeply unfortunate about me as a person, but I'm darkly amused to see some people react to the reveal of the ultimate permeability of souls in tlt as a triumphant thing -- the "you can't take 'loved' away!!!" side of it all -- when my first reaction was such an immediate wave of 'oh, oh so this is why this series is horror, I truly understand now' distress haha. ngl the final confirmation of the self not being inviolable in the deepest way freaks me the fuck out far more than any moment of body horror in the series has managed. (these two elements are of course the two sides of one thematic coin; it's about the horror of our bodies and minds and selves not being inviolable things, and about the effect of violence on them on so many different levels. violence psychological and interpersonal, physical, subtextually sexual, emotional, medical, political, a whole unlovely smörgåsbord of indignity and violation a person can be exposed to, and on a broader scale the spectrum of violence colonialism wields). The world and other people being capable of leaving indelible marks on us for good or ill through their presence in our lives is of course a pretty self-evident demonstrable truth in the real world, but somehow having it be proven metaphysically just uh. Fucks me up! 

It also drives home to me just how perfectly Muir has captured the dilemma at the heart of human connection and intimacy: the fact that the thing that gives us life and meaning is also capable of harming us so deeply. the same thing that can be so beautiful — even in a bittersweet, violently transformative form like with the creation of Paul — when done mutually and consensually and compassionately, is the same process that means someone like John can touch someone else's soul and 'after he's put his fingers on something, you'll never find anyone else's fingerprints on it; too much noise'. I think the text itself — the whole series, because to me this is what it is ultimately about, this tension between individuation/self vs. love/connection/enmeshment — is far more ambivalent in its treatment of it than saying it’s inherently a good thing or inherently a bad thing. The only thing it says for sure is that it is always a thing, that thinking you’re ever getting away from it is the height of futility, and that through being alive (or even through being dead lol) it is something you have to engage with in some way no matter what. Contact with other people is deeply necessary — without it we sicken and die. it can be the most beautiful and meaningful thing in a human life, and the most unspeakably horrific. All of these people are searching for some way to be whole, whether in total self-contained sufficiency on their own or in melding with someone else as their ‘other half’, and stumbling around in the dark they reach for each other and score deep wounds into the thing they’re trying to touch even when they don’t mean to. Taken to horrific extremes with the form of lyctorhood John guided his disciples to when they were ‘children — playing in the reflections of stars in a pool of water, thinking it was space’, because while people hurt each other all the time with differing levels of intentionality behind it, what John did was deliberate. It weaponizes the misapprehension of what closeness must be and destroys everyone involved in the process… and all because it leaves John the one sun their ruined lives have left to orbit around, because that’s the closest thing his soul will allow to connection. He doesn’t understand that to truly touch something you have to truly let it touch you back, and then wonders why he’s never satisfied.   

‘The horrors of love’ has been memed to death, I know, but… yeah. That is what it is, isn’t it.

[alchemistc]

Seeing all the saltommy headcanons floating around here and I'm obsessed with all of them but consider:

Unrequited saltommy but Sal's the one with feelings. Tommy considers him a good friend and a close confidant and Sal's the only one who Knows about Tommy, so they have their own shorthand and all their in-jokes and Sal plays up the bro thing because he realized five years in that he sort of maybe definitely wants Tommy to bone him and then press a kiss to his forehead and he needs Tommy to stick around for that so Gerrard can never know

Which. Tommy's never thought about it. Given the opportunity, maybe he would have. But Sal never says a word. Sal represses the feeling and dates around and through it all he's in love with his work buddy. They hang out when they're off shift and he listens to Tommy talk about the guys he's seeing casually and how they hate the job, hate that he's in the closet, hate that every time they're out in public he's tense and staring around the room like someone is about to pop out and call him every name in the book. He listens, and he knocks his knee against Tommy's, and they turn on the fights so Tommy has a distraction. And Sal loves him.

And it doesn't matter.

And then Gerrard is out, and they're finally in a place where Sal thinks - maybe. Maybe I could tell him. Maybe we could be something.

And Tommy comes over one night a few months into their revolving door of Captains and he's giddy, he can't stop smiling, he's nursing his beer and picking at the label and

He's met someone. They've been seeing each other and Tommy didn't want to say anything because it felt different than usual. Felt real. This guy understands the secrecy, he understands why Tommy has concerns about being out. He's sweet, and kind, and a bit of a freak in bed, sorry, you don't want to hear about that, and Sal absolutely doesn't but not for the reason Tommy thinks. It's serious. And Tommy had realized he wanted his best friend to know.

So. Sal tells him to bring the guy around, and he can never find a reason not to like him, because he's great. He's great for Tommy, he's fun to hang out with, he doesn't begrudge Tommy keeping the private part of their lives private. He can turn the lovey-dovey look off in a moment, play at being buddies when they're out and about and never seems upset about it. And in privacy, he's pressing a hand to the small of Tommy's back and pressing his lips to the bolt of Tommy's jaw and he always, always drinks Tommy's shitty beer even though Sal can tell he'd prefer a simple Bud Light. He makes Tommy happy.

So Sal lashes out at work instead. He presses, and he pushes, and he calls out captains left and right and does stupid shit for the hell of it. And eventually it bites him in the ass.

Sal loses his house, but for a while there he doesn't lose Tommy. He's there when the relationship with the guy implodes, and there's just never a good opportunity to bring up how he feels. So he doesn't.

They drift. Without the impetus of working together they inevitably just don't spend as much time together.

Sal meets a woman. He likes her. Her laugh is ridiculous. She smiles with her whole face. She's delicate and soft and when she tucks her face under his chin and curls her arms around him she can barely wrap her fingers together behind his back.

He introduces her to Tommy six months in and Tommy is happy for him, Tommy congratulates him, Tommy slaps a big hand to his shoulder and Sal soaks in the warmth and puts it away.

He marries the girl and Tommy orbits his life but they're never as close again. He has a couple kids, and they love uncle Tommy, and he watches Tommy move stations and stop hiding himself and he meets a few of the guys Tommy dates and they never feel right. They're never enough. They don't treat him the way Sal thinks he should be treated. He welcomes them into his home and hates the way they roll their eyes at Uncle Tommy stuffing his big long legs under the kids table so he can paint a butterfly with his daughter, the way they watch him with Sal's son balanced on his shoulders. He hates the way they get quiet when he and Sal are comparing scars and stories about the job. He hates the way they just don't love him enough.

They drift, and swing back together for random nights out or the kids birthdays, see each other less and less as the years pass.

And then he hears in passing that Tommy's reconnected with some of the 118, that he's spending time with all of them again, and he shoots him a text to catch up because you flew into a hurricane to rescue the guy who fired me but mostly he's just curious to know how he managed not to get fired.

Tommy invites him out for drinks. They settle in a corner booth and shoot the shit and Tommy tells him about how Hen is doing, how Howie is doing, about his new buddy Eddie and all the drama surrounding the 118. He keeps eyeing his phone, and Sal doesn't think much of it until Tommy's smile lines start to dimple and he tips his head up and grins, wide and happy as he waves at the guy who'd just stepped in.

Sal's pretty sure he recognizes him. One of the 118, maybe even the guy who'd filled the spot Sal had left open there. His grin is wide and his eyes are bright and Tommy shifts out of the booth to hug him and they linger in it, Tommy's face pressed into his neck and the guys hands drifting low across Tommy's waist, and when Tommy turns to introduce him as Buck the guys face scrunches up like that's a strange way to introduce him but he shakes Sal's hand and he slips right into the booth and he's rattling off a million questions like he's heard a hundred and two stories he wants Sal to confirm.

And Sal - he doesn't remember ever enjoying time with Tommy's boyfriends, doesn't remember seeing Tommy's gaze so focused and intent, so heavy. But this Buck guy keeps a hand on Tommy's knee, or his neck, not in a possessive way really, just like he can't quite stop reminding himself that Tommy is there with him, and Tommy is playing it cool but he's soaking it up, rolling his eyes at Buck's praise but ducking his head when Buck's not looking, darting gazes through his eyelashes and desperately fighting grins and giving the same energy back and no one, no one has ever treated Tommy so delicately, so carefully, no one has ever shot Tommy bedroom eyes with quite so much unadulterated adoration.

Buck goes to buy another round and Tommy's eyes flit to Sal's.

"He's a lot," Sal says, because he's not quite sure how to encapsulate "I know you guys said this was still fairly new but I'm already planning out the bachelor party where you get drunk and soppy and tell me you wish he was here with you."

"I should have mentioned he might come," Tommy tells him, and Sal narrows in on that.

"Why didn't you?"

Tommy shifts. His shoulders curl in. He chews on the inside of his cheek. "I figured some things out, after I started at Harbor. Took a long look at my life up to that point. The way you always hated every guy I introduced you to percolated long enough for me to understand it."

It's Sal's turn to feel like a jackass. "You thought I'd hate him too."

"I hoped you wouldn't."

Sal sighs. Catches sight of Buck tilting sideways at the bartop so he can send an eager grin in Tommy's direction. If he had a tail he'd be wagging it, Sal thinks, and then he thinks a little harder. About the easy way Tommy grins back, about the way he eyes Buck up and down, leering a little for his audience of one, and the way Buck bites his lip and his gaze goes dark and heady and the way he has to fucking blink himself out of it when the bartender hands him their drinks.

Sal knocks his knuckles on the table. "He fucks it up I'm reserving the right to show up unannounced at his job to make him fix it," Sal tells him, and Tommy's gaze is a little misty when it meets Sal's.

Buck slides in next to Tommy and passes out drinks and when he leans back and starts on a tirade about the travesty of shot pours he'd just witnessed, his hand lands a lot higher up Tommy's leg than it has all night. Tommy takes a heavy pull off his beer and grins at Buck like he's never been more enchanted by another living soul.

Sal's incensed when Tommy refuses to have a bachelor party unless both grooms are involved.

[sitp-recs]

Do you know fics in which Draco and Harry work through relationship problems?

Hi anon! I was gonna say I don’t read a lot of est relationship but looking at this reclist I guess no one will believe that 😂 thank you for this ask, it gave me the chance to rec fics I don’t usually rec which I love!! Enjoy :)

Relic Radiation by @tackytigerfic (M, 1k)

Draco goes into space, leaving behind his son Scorpius (who has just started at Hogwarts, at least), and his not-quite-boyfriend Harry Potter. But Harry can't stop loving Draco just because he's approximately 408km up, in constant orbit.

Let Me Have You and I'll Let You Save Me by Frayach (M, 6k)

Draco keeps coming back, and Harry keeps letting him. Draco can’t stay away, and Harry can’t live without him.

What I thought by @bafflinghaze (E, 8k)

Draco thought they were in a relationship. Harry thought it was just sex.

Service Bell by @shiftylinguini (E, 8k)

Draco is: a werewolf, living in a cabin in the woods, minding his own business, and never going to buy plaid because he's not that much of a fucking cliche (yet). He's also counting down the days until he sees Harry again.

‘Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (M, 9k)

Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other.

i wake up falling, orphaned (M, 9k)

Draco’s always leaving, one way or another. Harry’s usually 240 thousand miles too late.

hear me (with your whole body) by @teacup-tai (E, 9k)

It was a sexy idea, exploring other bodies with Draco, engaging in sex with other people to spice things up. Something inside of him was excited about the prospect, but the nagging fear, the feeling of abandonment that follows each image that pops in his head is throwing him off. He would give it a go. See what it was like. He could always say no, right?

More Than That by joosetta (E, 11k)

This is a story about two 52 year old men who refuse to age gracefully.

Hope Springs Eternal (But Love Springs in the Forest, Unannounced) by lettered (E, 13k)

Draco falls into a love spring. Harry saves him! And now they’re bonded for life. Draco is horrified. Harry thinks it’s kind of neat.

freely, as men strive for right by @bixgirl1 (E, 17k)

How can Harry love a man like Draco Malfoy? If only Draco would let him count the ways.

Burn the Curtains and the Wine by @nerdherderette (E, 24k)

There are two versions of Harry Potter: the wizard who is the Ministry of Magic's most dangerous and successful assassin, and the husband who leads a staid life of domesticity with a reformed Death Eater. And never the twain shall meet. Until, one day, they do.

Come For Me by Frayach (E, 24k)

After Draco is paralyzed in an accident, he and Harry discover a new way to make love.

remember me by hupsoonheng (T, 31k)

On a chilly day in October, Draco kisses Harry goodbye before he goes on yet another dangerous, undercover mission with the Aurors. And then Harry doesn't come back.

The Arrangement series by RurouniHime (E, 72k)

It's worked for years. Why change it now?

[sixlane]

barty reg and Lily?

LISTENNNN. i’ve actually been cooking up this post for a while and you’ve just given me a beautiful opportunity to talk about them. regubartylily, as i’m calling them, is a classic love triangle with barty at the crux. this ship hurts so bad and, at its core, is about letting go.

imagine, barty and regulus are childhood friends turned codependent parasites. they have never dated but they are each others first everything. they kiss and fool around occasionally but they never talk about it. their relationship just is what it is.

enter lily, who is regulus’ secret arch nemesis (read: reg&lily post). reg holds a deep dislike for lily because she is everything he wishes he could be and vice versa.

at some point barty develops an interest in lily because she wears this beautifully cracked mask that he cant help but want to see under. lily likes barty because he’s the only one who’s noticed she’s wearing a mask in the first place. after a while of orbiting around each other, barty and lily start dating… <- devastating for regulus, the guy who has never gotten a single thing he’s wanted his whole life. losing his best friend to the girl who has everything already. the boy reg is using to replace his brother being stolen by another fucking gryffindor…. he is HEARTBROKEN. it’s just another reason he’s inadequate. (and it’s different from jegulus/jily because james will always be unattainable to reg but barty is HIS. and now he is being replaced by the Better Version of himself). but he refuses to go down without a fight. he will not let go if he can help it. he will not allow his relationship with barty change. they probably still kiss sometimes while barty and lily are dating because that’s just what they do but lily knows barty and reg are weird with each other. and this is the girl who lives in a world where everything she has is balanced so precariously, ready to topple the moment she isn’t living up to Expectations. and now she feels like her relationship with barty (the one actual good thing in her life) is about to fall apart too because regulus can’t appreciate the things he has. he wants more. it’s a constant game of tug of war with barty in the middle (who btw is not oblivious to this. he just doesn’t understand why he can’t be something for both of them and he refuses to choose).

so anyway it’s about letting go. reg letting go of the codependency he shared with barty. lily letting go of insecurity and needing someone else to tell her who she can be.

enter evan (yes he’s here too). when barty meets evan everything clicks into place. evan will never need a single thing from barty. this is barty’s happy ending where he learns to let go of being needed. and reg and lily have to let go of barty completely in the contexts they knew/used him.

and that’s where i see reg and lily developing this begrudging friendship where they are both kind of mourning this loss but realizing it’s all for the better. barty could never actually fill the holes they were shoving him into. they gotta fix their shit themselves. and they’re happy that barty finally found a place he can just exist in without offering an inhuman level of devotion and self sacrifice.

this is the good ending. in the bad ending reg and lily murder barty together and help each other hide the body 🥰

[shinjiikar1]

due to... one billion personal reasons it took me a long time to get to these episodes, and they were probably the hardest to watch for me (for also one billion personal reasons)

I really don't know that I have as coherent a thesis this week, I'm just kind of in misery, but I'll write out my thoughts and we'll see where it goes. (Also despite having it no i still haven't read the book, I'm waiting till I'm done the show, which I may regret lol)

Gyu-ho and Go Young are such different people, they have such different worldviews and struggle to see the world through each other's eyes.

The moment for me that exemplified their whole relationship was after Gyu-ho moved in. Gyu-ho claims Go Young could never understand how he's never had anything of his own, being tied down by his family all his life, and now not even being in his own space. Go Young's reply is silence (and a smile, of course). While Gyu-ho has never had anything of his own, Go Young has never had anyone. His father is long-gone, his mother now too, as it seems is his extended family. He lost Mi Ae to someone else, and his love life... Gyu-ho's family isn't perfect, in fact they're difficult from what we see, but he can always go back. He has Gyu-ho for a while, but he never really lets himself be had, they're so close, orbiting around each other but they just can't quite get there in the end.

I really just cannot get over how scared he is to let anyone in. Every attempt he's made to let people really get to know him has ended in failure and at this point he can't conceptualize letting anyone in. He can't think of himself as deserving of it and it's so incredibly painful to watch. Gyu-ho tries, he makes an effort to break into Go Young's life. He holds his hand in public, he waits for him, he barges into his home. Like that hole in the clouds he's shoving his way in, and to his credit Go Young tries to let him in. Ultimately, however, he feels the waves catching up to him, he's lived so long in shame and guilt and fear, he can't swim out, and Gyu-ho can't pull him back to shore on his own. It's exhausting for both of them.

I really appreciated @lurkingshan's post about Why their relationship falls apart and her discussion about Go Young's very real fears about how his status is affecting this person he loves and cares for deeply. He can't let himself be the person to drag Gyu-ho down. I really resonated with Go Young here, I'm not interested in detailing my own situation, but I very much understand feeling like you're holding someone back because of an illness. It's a completely miserable feeling, even if the other person insists its fine, you know on some level, that they might be happier without you and how can you deny them that? Go Young thinks he's been too greedy, he's wanted too much. He's not willing to be that selfish (whether or not this is actually selfish behaviour isn't really the point here, he believes it is). He will be the one to make the sacrifice to Gyu-ho doesn't have to, he won't even tell him the real reason because he knows there's no way Gyu-ho would go without him if he was honest about it, he has to push him away first. It's not an entirely selfless decision, I think he's also trying to spare himself the hurt and resentment that might build if Gyu-ho doesn't get to go, but ultimately it's because he loves him so much. I wish he could have said it.

[aashiqeddiediaz]

kisses and embraces

this is for @eddiediaaz based on this tiktok. it’s grossly cheesy and sappy, bone apple teeth :))

[AO3 Link]

Word Count: 2611 words

It’s a typical night.

Well, it’s the new, teenager-in-house definition of a typical night, which means Eddie’s crawled into bed way too early to flip through his book, Christopher holed away in his own room to talk to his friends and the living room too lonely to sit there without him, idly flipping through channels that he’s not watching.

Instead, Eddie had disappeared into his own room, propping his back against the headboard and stretching his legs over the comforter.

Now, he sits here flipping through the novel, only picking up bits and pieces from the whole thing.

He thinks it’s a romance novel, but hell if he could tell anyone what the plot is. All he’s gotten out of it so far is that one of the main characters is a firefighter.

Must be why he picked it up, then.

His phone beeping takes him away from the book he was only pretending to read, bored out of his mind. The familiar text tone brings a smile to his face instantly, one that makes him glad he’s alone so he’s not embarrassed by the giddy feeling that takes over.

Eddie knows if he looked in a mirror, he’d be wearing the goofiest expression known to man.

Buck: can’t sleep, can i come over?

The questions are a new thing, a product of them getting used to the new changes of their lives. Eddie just doesn’t know how to emphasize to Buck that these are the smaller things that will never change between them — Eddie is always, always going to want Buck in his orbit, and this house feels incomplete without Buck with him.

Eddie: you don’t have to ask, you know that

Eddie: use your key, lock up when you come in.

Not even a minute after he sends the message, Eddie hears the familiar sound of the key in the lock, followed by the door closing, then two turns of the lock again to secure his whole family under the same roof for the night.

Eddie lets out a quiet, helpless sound of amusement as he hears his boyfriend’s familiar tread through the house, footsteps stopping at Chris’ door with a gentle knock.

The low murmurs of their voices filter through Eddie’s closed bedroom door, and he waits as patiently as he can while Buck and Chris catch up as if they hadn’t just seen each other that morning. He knows if he went to drag Buck out of his son’s room right now, Chris would give him an unimpressed look and complain that Eddie gets to see him at work and at home, and it’s not fair of him to monopolize all of Buck’s time for himself.

(That’s a new word Chris learned a few weeks ago, and since then, Eddie’s heard it in too many sentences — but especially when Chris wants Buck all of himself.)

Sue him, he’s feeling a little needy, and a lot grateful that Buck is here instead of all the way at his loft. And more than that, he’s content that his son loves Buck just as much as Eddie does, and Buck loves Chris just the same — though Eddie knows if he asked him, Buck would immediately say that he loves Chris more.

(More than any of that, he’s glad his teenager isn’t too cool for at least one of them.)

“What if I had said no?” Eddie greets as his bedroom door slides open, his shoulders relaxing at the sight of the familiar figure in the doorway.

“You wouldn’t,” Buck says confidently, laughing softly as he shuts the door with a quiet, finite snick.

“Then why ask? You know I’d never turn you away,” Eddie asks, setting his book on the nightstand as he studies his boyfriend. “I don’t like it when you do that. Just come over next time.”

He has to resist asking Buck to move in right there and then, because it’s only been two weeks and he knows that they have a lot to work through before they throw all their hats in the ring. But still, nights like this, Eddie can’t help but wish Buck just lived here full-time.

Hs boyfriend looks exhausted, tight lines of tiredness around his eyes and his jaw set, even with his mouth curved up fondly. He’s even in his pajamas, a tattered pair of sweats and a worn t-shirt that definitely belongs to Eddie, which means he’d tried to crash and found himself too wired to actually sleep.

“It’s the polite thing to do,” he murmurs as he sets his phone next to Eddie’s before crawling onto the bed. In one deft move, he strips off his shirt, bodily parts Eddie’s legs and collapses between them with a muted groan.

Eddie laughs, dropping his hands to Buck’s bare back and holding him close. “Right. You, polite.”

Buck pinches him before pressing his face into Eddie’s stomach and letting out another drawn-out whine. It’s an exasperated sound, directed towards himself, and Eddie watches as Buck writhes to try and get comfortable before propping one leg up, bent at the knee, the other leg extended out behind him.

The restlessness in his boyfriend cracks a little bit of Eddie’s heart, and he reaches out, laying his palms flat against the strong muscles of Buck’s back. Miraculously, Buck settles under his touch. He’s pushed back enough that his foot hangs over the edge, but the way Buck sighs and calms, it’s like he’s never found a more comfortable position than under Eddie’s hands.

He wonders when the marvel of holding him like this will fade. They only stepped into this relationship two weeks ago, but they’ve been some of the happiest two weeks of Eddie’s life. Something about being with Buck makes him feel free, like he’s allowed to accept all this happiness that’s come his way, and he’s allowed to build the life he wants with his partner and son with it.

Of all the things they’ve gotten up to in the last two weeks — a cauldron pot of emotion simmering over until there’s nothing but biting kisses, desperate touches and truly depraved actions that have been a long time coming — this has to be one of Eddie’s favorites.

The weight of Buck between his legs is nothing new, but it feels new when he rests his head on Eddie’s lower stomach, arms thrown up around his waist to hold him tightly, as if Eddie would want to be anywhere but here.

Just him and Buck — Buck, who’s been his partner in so many ways through the years. It’s this newfound intimacy of being romantic partners that makes everything in Eddie feel giddy, like his happiness is racing through his blood to every last inch of him, unable to be contained.

Carefully, he buries one hand in the tousled, loose curls on top of Buck’s head, stroking lightly. With the other hand, he kneads his palm into the broad muscles of his back, content to stay here with his legs cradling Buck safely.

“Tired, huh,” Eddie whispers, stroking through Buck’s hair as he bends a little closer, his body covering Buck’s. The scent of his shampoo reaches Eddie, wrapping around Eddie with intent.

Buck simply hums, the vibrations from the sound tickling the stretch of exposed skin where Eddie’s shirt has ridden up from all his shifting. It sends goosebumps prickling down Eddie’s spine, a gentle warmth of Buck’s affection following along when his boyfriend turns his head to press his mouth to Eddie’s bare skin.

In the last two weeks, Eddie’s gotten to know the definitions of Buck’s kisses intimately. There are the deep, dragging ones that are full of indulgence and heat. There are the slow, muted ones that are kissing just for the sake of closeness, without any expectation of more. There are the casual ones to say hello, or goodbye.

And then there are the reassurance ones — the ones that make it real that they have this now, after fighting for it for so long.

The kiss that Buck leaves on his skin right then is a reassurance kiss. Almost like he can’t believe that Eddie’s here, holding him up as he tries to relax into sleep.

Like this, Eddie can’t bend all the way down without crushing Buck, but he can stretch forward, leaving trailblazing marks over Buck’s skin.

So he does.

With one hand, he gently runs his fingers down Buck’s the dip of spine, down to the waistband of his sweatpants, then back up again. He traces all the freckles and birthmarks and scars that decorate his back, connecting all the dots as his nails trace soft patterns up and down his skin.

Touching Buck is one of Eddie’s indulgences, fingertips pressed to warm skin, marked by the evidence of his life. He’s touched Buck to draw out the most sinful of noises, the whimpers and gasping breaths he lets out, but he’s rarely gotten the time to touch him just for the sake of touching like this.

He explores the expanse of Buck’s shoulder blades, palm kneading briefly over the muscle groove before drifting to the thick muscles of his arms, then back up over his shoulders. With each pass of his fingers, a little more of the tension bleeds out of the tense set of them.

“Feels nice,” Buck murmurs drowsily, his face still planted in Eddie’s stomach. His arms tighten around Eddie’s waist, the flex of his muscle drawing Eddie’s gaze to the stretch of bare skin laid out in front of him. The arch of his back has to be uncomfortable, but he doesn’t say a word.

The way his spine is curved has Eddie’s back twinging in sympathy, but instead of telling him anything, he hooks his feet around him, crossing his ankles to pin Buck between his knees. With one quick motion, he tugs until they’re both laying on their sides, Buck still cradled against Eddie without having to fold his body in half in the wrong direction.

“What’s wrong with you?” Buck mumbles as he scoots up, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck. Their legs tangle, one of Eddie’s slung over his hip to keep him pressed close. Buck lets out a sinful sound of contentment and a flush breaks out on Eddie’s face — he might not want more than this right now, but he’s not a saint, especially where Buck’s noises are concerned.

“Sue me for not wanting you to break your back,” Eddie tells him, mouth pressed to Buck’s temple. One hand is still buried in his hair, holding him tight against Eddie’s body.

Buck tilts his head up, eyes so, so blue as they stare at Eddie with a plea.

That’s another look Eddie’s gotten familiar with over the past two weeks.

With a huff of amusement, Eddie tips his chin down to give Buck the kiss he’s asking for, slow and syrupy. The scratch of their stubble sounds through the quiet of the bedroom, and Buck presses his gratitude and affection into Eddie’s mouth in a way that only feeds the swell of his heart in his chest.

They lay there for a while, exchanging slow, soft kisses with no real end goal, no further intent. Just this very real form of intimacy that Eddie still can’t believe he has. That he doesn’t have to hold back from sharing anymore.

It’s the slow, sweeping movement of his palm to cup the back of Buck’s neck, keeping him exactly where Eddie wants him as their lips slot together, coming together with startling familiarity. It’s the brief slide of their tongues together, it’s the way Buck’s arm hooks around Eddie’s waist, it’s the greedy way they sip from each other’s mouths like they can’t get enough. It’s the way Buck’s palms slide under Eddie’s tank top to press against his bare back, the way each kiss leaves Eddie flying high as Buck’s mouth drips with the sweetest honey.

It’s the addictive pull of his partner that Eddie can’t get enough of, even when his lungs burn from the lack of oxygen — he thinks if he could share just one breath with Buck, he’d be okay.

Eddie takes Buck’s plush bottom lip between his own, tugging gently before giving him one last kiss, tipping their foreheads together. Buck sighs again, his mouth slightly swollen and spit slick as his neck curves further in Eddie’s palm to nuzzle their noses together.

It’s cute and a little ridiculous, and Eddie can’t stop the giggle that slips out, leaning forward to press a kiss to Buck’s cheek before his boyfriend returns back to his spot in the cradle of Eddie’s neck.

“Were you reading when I got here?” Buck whispers.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nah, I was just bored. Don’t even remember what was in it.”

Buck hums again, the ticklish feeling even more pronounced against the sensitive skin of his neck. “Read to me, then.”

Eddie lets out a surprised bark of laughter as Buck’s arms tighten around him, pressed so close together. “Right now?”

“No time like the present,” Buck says, and Eddie feels his lips tip up into a wide smile. “You got somewhere else to be, Diaz?”

Even without looking, he knows it’s one of his favorite smiles — the one with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the deep dimple at the corner of his mouth, and the bunched-up cheeks. The one that comes out whenever Buck teases him.

Maybe Eddie’s not the only one who feels needy tonight.

He stretches forward, grabbing the paperback off the nightstand and flipping it open to the first chapter. His voice is still quiet, a thing for only him and Buck to share, but he feels Buck begin to relax further in the circle of his arms as Eddie reads over his shoulder, and he thinks that maybe this is enough.

He’s not even halfway through the chapter when Buck’s soft snores reach his ears, his weight having gone slack in Eddie’s arms.

Quietly closing the book, Eddie reaches forward to turn off the lamp, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and closing his eyes. His hand starts up a pattern of smoothing up and down Buck’s spine, the repetitive motion lulling him towards slumber, too.

“I love you,” he breathes out against Buck’s skin drowsily, his words lost in the close-cropped hair at his temple.

Where he’d thought Buck was asleep, there are three slow taps on his spine, a silent, sleepy affirmation of him hearing Eddie.

The action makes Eddie’s heart swell five times too big for his chest, tired tears pushing at the back of his eyes, and he presses his lips to Buck’s head to hide the emotional sound that threatens to scrape out of his throat.

Buck holds him tighter as he shifts in his sleep, legs still tangled together, and with the warmth of his boyfriend wrapped around him, Eddie dozes off.

(The next morning, Eddie asks Buck if the book was really that boring, and Buck teases him about reading cheesy romance novels.

Chris walks in and finds them arguing about the merits of a good romance novel, and true to it, he rolls his eyes, grabs one of the waffles Buck’s made, and walks out without a second glance.

Eddie watches him go, then turns back to Buck with another argument on his tongue, only for Buck to kiss it off his lips, claiming that he could romance Eddie better.

He’s right but for the sake of argument, Eddie raises an eyebrow in challenge anyway, enjoying the determined glint in his boyfriend’s eyes.

And the world keeps spinning.)

[competitivemen]

My elder sister always had a lot of male attention, especially since she started at the local university. Every week it seemed there was a new guy trying to get into her pants. She was quite receptive to it and was masterful at flirting just enough to keep a group of guys in perpetual orbit around her. Unfortunately for her and her would-be lovers, our dad was pretty old-fashioned and kept a close eye on her. He had declared that she would have no boyfriend until she graduated. He knew where she was and who she was with at all times, and he had forbidden her from even bringing a boy around the house. He was paying for her college, and she was still living at home, so she reluctantly obeyed. It frustrated the guys, who lusted after her to no end. The perfect young woman, willing to give it up but out of their reach. For a whole year it looked like no one would have the opportunity to do anything with her. That was until they discovered a way to get to her without raising my dad's suspicion. Me. 

I went to the same university she did and was only a year below her. My dad had really encouraged me to go to the same school. He'd given me a big lecture about how I would be able to 'perform my brotherly duty' and 'help safe guard her virtue'. I'd agreed, if only so he'd leave me alone. I hadn't even been there a week before two guys approached me, asking about my sister. 

"Is your sister Ashley Williams?" Said the guy on the left without even saying so much as a hello. 

"Y-yes. She is." I stumbled over my words and felt my face flush. I wasn't used to talking to such good-looking guys, and them both being shirtless didn't help. 

"Your sister's well fit, mate." Said the guy on the right, a big, dumb smile on his face. 

"Er... thanks?" I said. Not being entirely sure how to respond to that. 

"Listen," said the guy on the left, who I later found out was called Derek. "Ashley said that you had a way to contact her without her dad knowing; is that true?" 

"Eh yeah, I told her that if she ever wanted to talk to someone behind dad's back, she could have them go through my phone. Dad doesn't track the content of the messages, just who they are from." I was taken aback that Ashley had already told some guys, since I'd only talked to her about it a few days ago. 

"Excellent, mate." Said the guy on the right, who I'd find out was called Brad. He stretched out his hand. "Give me your phone, and I'll drop her a line." 

"Fuck off; I'm the one who's going to be chatting her up." Derek said, knocking Brad's hand out of the way and squaring up to him. "It's obvious she wants me." 

"In your dreams." Brad said, pushing back against Derek. "Ashley wants to get with a real stud, not a loser like you." 

It looked like neither was going to back down. They seemed to be flexing their muscles at each other, and I was worried they would start swinging punches. "I-I'm sure we can all come to an arrangement." I said, not being able to take my eyes off their bulging muscles. 

Derek noticed where I was looking and smirked. "It looks like your sister's not the only one interested. I'll tell you what. If you let me use your phone, you can lick my chest. That's the sort of thing gay guys like, isn't it?" 

I was momentarily stunned at his suggestion. But I couldn't deny that I wanted to wrap my lips around his chest muscles. Meekly, I handed my phone over to Derek. He gave me a smile and thrust his chest out, offering it to me. Not needing any extra invitation, I bent down to run my tongue along his chest muscles. 

"Dude, I can't believe you're letting him lick you. That's pretty gay." Said Brad, who was staring at me as I bathed Derek's muscles with my tongue. 

"If it gets me access to his sister, I'll let him serve me however he wants." Derek said as he sent a text to my sister with my phone while I worshipped his muscles. Having finished his message, he tossed my phone back to me. "Forward me the reply, and I'll let you service me again when I send the next message." With that, he walked off, leaving Brad in disbelief and me still desperate to continue worshipping him. 

Brad recovered quicker than I did. "Well, if that's what it takes to get in Ashley's pants, I suppose I've got no choice." Brad turned to me; he was running his hand across his six-pack. "I'll offer the same deal. Hand over the phone, and you can give my abbs a few licks." 

I didn't say anything. I simply handed him the phone and began worshipping his abbs. 

It only escalated from there. Ashley began an extensive correspondence with both guys, which meant they were constantly coming to me to send their replies. Both were aware that they were in competition for her attention, so their offers to get at my phone steadily increased. Derek would get ahead by offering to let me suck his toes, only for Brad to counter by letting me clean his post-workout armpits. 

Ashley wasn't aware of what her suitors were doing to get to my phone. She was just grateful for my facilitation of her flirting. Her ignorance meant she didn't realise what she was doing when she declared that the guy who messaged her the most would be the guy she'd be most interested in. This sent Derek's and Brad's competitive efforts into overdrive. In no time at all, they were letting me sniff their crotches through their underwear or letting me stick my face between their ass cheeks multiple times a day. All in an effort to send more messages than their rival. 

It finally came to a head when both of them came to use my phone at the same time. I knew they were tied in terms of the number of messages sent and that Ashley had promised them that whoever had sent the most messages by the end of the day could come over to her house. (Under the guise of being my friend to get past our dad.) Both men were determined to finally get physical access to Ashley and be the one to take her virginity. And I was fully prepared to take advantage. 

When they approached me, I was down on my knees, looking up at them. I gave them a shy smile. "I'll give my phone to the guy who lets me suck their cock." I said. 

Any hesitation they'd once had about letting me serve them had long since melted away due to my tongue and their determination to get with my sister. Both of them responded by pulling down their pants to reveal their already hardening cocks. I took a moment to marvel at the two straight cocks in front of me. Both were bigger than mine, and I was of average size. Derek's was slightly longer, but Brad's was slightly thicker. 

Derek stepped forward first, thrusting his cock against my cheek. "Go on. Suck my cock. Get it nice and ready for your sister." 

"Back off, mate." Brad said as he stepped forward, knocking against Derek's hips and positioning his cock against my other cheek. "He's going to be sucking my cock, and I'm the one who's going to be getting with Ashley." 

Both men began jostling against each other, trying to get in a better position to slide their cocks into my mouth. 

In order to stop them from escalating into a full-blown physical fight, I grabbed their cocks. With one cock in each hand, I quickly stroked them to full hardness. It did the trick in stopping them from fighting, as they were too absorbed in the hand jobs I was giving them. 

Bringing their two cock heads together, I began licking and teasing the tips with my tongue, eliciting curses from them. I made sure to suck on both of them as equally as possible, not wanting to show favouritism. 

Each of them tried to gain the upper hand by grabbing my head and thrusting their cocks forward, past their rival's, and into my mouth. But each time the other would not give up ground, jerking my head back towards them and thrusting forward to deny their foe any deeper access to my mouth. I had to stretch my lips more than I ever had before to keep both of their tips in my mouth. 

After neither could gain an advantage, they began to grow impatient. "He's such a fucking tease. He's going to keep stringing us along." Derek snarled, apparently not directed at me but at his competitor. 

"True that, man. He should make up his mind over who's cock he wants for him and his sister." Brad said. Sharing a look, they both withdrew from my mouth, causing me to let out a whine at the loss of their cocks. 

"Times up, slut. Choose which cock is going to be taking your sister's virginity." Derek said. "Yeah, no more stringing us along; make your choice." Brad added. 

I was paralysed with indecision, wanting to serve both. I honestly couldn't choose between them. It was in that moment that my sister unwittingly came to my rescue. My phone buzzed with the distinctive tone I'd set for Ashley. I quickly snatched it up and read the message she'd sent. It was for her two suitors. I read it aloud for them. 

"Hey boys, what's keeping you? I've been so horny waiting for your sexy messages and I haven't received even one from either of you! Did you forget that I said whoever sends the most messages by midnight gets to come over? Well the game is still on! Just thinking about it makes me so wet. I need the best man to take my virginity so step it up boys!" 

The effect on the straight men as I read the message was obvious. Both had started to jack off while I'd been reading, and both were now harder than I'd ever seen them before. Their faces were also completely different. Before, when I'd served them, they'd at most expressed arousal at my attempts to get them off. Now they showed almost animalistic lust. They were straight alphas who had been teased with what they truly desired: pussy. I realised in that moment that I'd never truly be able to have or satisfy either of them. I was and always would be a mere means to an end for these straight studs. I'd never been harder in my life. 

Realising after today they would have no reason to let me serve them, I quickly came up with a way to get as much straight cock in the time I had left. "Whoever is currently fucking my face gets my phone until they cum. Then the other takes over until they cum. We repeat until my sister's deadline." 

Derek reacts faster than his rival. He plunges his cock into my waiting mouth, snatches my phone from my hands, and immediately begins texting my sister. I'm in heaven, sucking on the long, straight cock lodged in my throat. I bob my head up and down his cock, trying to make him feel as good as possible, but he hardly even grunts as I take him to his base, too engrossed in his conversation with my sister. 

Brad stands scowling at Derek's side. His fists clench; he too is engrossed in the text conversation, ignoring me completely. He starts muttering in Derek's ear, and at first I can't hear what he's saying, but Derek's grunts grow louder as Brad talks to him. I hear snippets of what Brad is saying; words like 'tight', 'pussy', and 'virgin'. I realise he's talking dirty about my sister to get Derek to cum faster. It works. Derek let out a moan of release, and my mouth was flooded with his sperm. I try to swallow as much as I can, but it's too much, and his seed spills out of my mouth. 

Before Derek can completely finish cuming or I can fully suck his cock clean, Brad yanks my head off of Derek's cock, shoves him out of the way, and rams his thick dick down my throat. He's grabbed my phone as well and is messaging my sister furiously, trying to catch up. I get to work sucking his cock, not caring about my rough treatment; I'm just glad I've got another straight cock to suck. 

Derek adopts Brad's tactics right away, whispering in his ear about what a slut my sister is and how good her pussy would feel. He also has his own tactics. Grabbing the back of my head, he holds me down on Brad's cock until I'm gagging on it. It sends Brad wild, and after the third time Derek holds my head down, my spasming throat and the latest message from my sister send him over the edge, and he dumps a load down my throat. 

They swap me back and forth for hours. The time they spend fucking my throat becomes longer and longer as their balls are drained more and more. All the while they text my sister, try to get the other off, and ignore me as much as possible, only interacting with me with their cocks or with a hand on my head as they direct me to suck their rival off faster.

Finally, it reaches midnight. Both Derek and Brad are spent. My sister says she'll count up the messages and let us know who the winner is tomorrow. They give me back my phone, and stumble off, arm in arm. Despite it all, it seems that competition has allowed them to bond. At least until they find out who's won. 

I sit there exhausted, covered in a mix of their cum, my throat raw and sour from being fucked for so long. I've cum multiple times in my pants during the hours I've been servicing them. I'm still hard as a rock, and as I reach to get myself off one last time, I receive another text from Ashley. "Hey bro, still counting up the messages. I'm excited to let the winner come over but I do like both guys and I'd want the loser to stick around. Maybe have some fun with him after. Could you take care of him? Let him know he still has a shot. Thanks bro x" 

I cum in my pants, envisioning how I'd take care of the loser while he waited for my sister. I text my sister back. "No problem sis. They'll do anything for you."

[midnightsun-if]

Since a couple of you have asked for a full-fledged snippet/drabble of angst for the Vamp Moms™️, I decided to oblige and create a short drabble for you all!

This is more of internal grief than anything, but I hope it suffices in the angst department.

“Mama.”

A soft voice whispers out, a pleading edge to the tone, but she doesn't bother to turn around; only squeezes her eyes shut against the intruding noise. Trying her best to block out everything around her -- the noise of the city that lay beneath her feet, the soft vibrations from people living their daily life, of the whispered pleas of her children for her to come back to them, to stop the freefall she had been since her other half had been torn from her side.

She closed her eyes to block out the pain -- the sights and sounds that her Helena would never experience again -- while it also helped in blocking out the memories.

Every time she opened her eyes she was greeted by the sight of her bedroom, something that had once been her sanctuary, but was now her prison. A constant replay of events flickered across her mind as she looked the objects that meant something completely different now that her wife is gone -- the inanimate items taunting her for her failures.

Every time, when she feels well enough to traverse outside of her chambers, she hears the whispered conversations of her children, of her family, and is instantly reminded of the anguished cry that had escaped her mate before the unsettling silence had taken over. A silence that had only been broken by the cries of her own anguish when she had realized what had happened, when it was already too late.

Every time she blinks, Saraya is brought back to the sight of her mate's broken body -- so still against the carpeted ground of her study, a halo of red surrounding the once pristine white of her hair, crystalline blue eyes turned cold in their lifelessness.

Every time she closes her eyes, at least for the briefest of moments, Saraya is met by the sight of her wife's gentle smile, warmth suffused within her gaze, before the reality of Saraya's grief comes crashing back through her, shattering whatever haven her sleep-deprived mind had been able to conjure up.

"Mama. Please."

Her mind, no matter how much she pleaded with it to stop, to finally halt in her endless torment, kept replaying everything over and over again. Telling her everything she had already figured out since her mate had been taken from her.

She had failed.

She had failed her mate, her darling Helena.

She had failed her children, not being able to pull herself from the darkness that has entrapped her so.

She had failed her family, not being able to keep them safe even when she had always promised she would.

She had failed everyone, and now she was paying the price for it.

"Saraya, honey, please. We still need you."

Everything she had, everything she had accomplished, barring her beloved children, meant nothing now. Helena was gone. Taken. Murdered in the home they both had built. Her wife had always told her that she was like the Earth: dependable, strong, nurturing. But what Helena had never truly known was the simple fact that while Saraya may have been the Earth, she had always been her Sun. And now? Without her darling light to guide her way, without her Sun to orbit, she was drifting listlessly into the darkness of space, forever lost among the cosmos until she'd be able to find her Sun once more.

She couldn’t breathe knowing that Helena was no longer doing the same. Like the air was toxic and clogging up her lungs, only causing her sobs to become more and more erratic with each breath she takes. Her body folding in on itself because she couldn’t find the strength to keep standing. To appear strong and collected when her whole being was shattered beyond repair.

Her mind was only a vessel for her pain.

Her body was a prisoner to her despair.

Her heart was a hollow shell of what it used to be.

Despair crashes through her chest like a tidal wave, drowning her, making it hard to breathe. Tears escaping her eyes at a faster rate, the venom burning soft flesh as it tracks harshly down her cheeks. The sorrow consuming her and darkening her world. It was her fault Helena had been killed, if she had been paying attention, if she had simply allowed herself to be suspicious for once, then her darling mate, the love of her life, would still be by her side.

If she had simply listened to Helena's concerns, that the newest figure in her life, a man that seemed keen on starting up his own botanical store for the supernatural, seemed a bit too skittish for it to simply be written off as a character quirk.

If she had simply been able to see, beyond the lense of potentially making a new friend, something she hadn't been able to do in so long, then she would have been able to notice the look in his gaze every time he visited Celestia.

If she had simply been more aware than Helena wouldn't have had to push her out of the way.

If she had simply been better than her Helena would still be here, bringing joy and laughter to Saraya's world.

Instead, her world was now filled with nothing but despair and agony. Her body trapped in self-inflicted numbness, to everything, of course, except for her pain.

Her pain was the only thing that kept her close to her mate.

Her pain was the only thing that kept her wife alive.

Her pain was what she deserved for failing her Helena so completely.

She should have listened; her pain was only her punishment for not doing so.

[deltadescent]

Hi! Enjoying your Sky stuff~ But I wanna know more about the siblings! What was it? Roast beef and Chicken tender?

I wrote a whole post on this that was extremely long and lost it so here we go x2.

So, yes! Their names are Chicken Tender and Roast Beef! But they aren't actually my characters.

Roast Beef is my friend Clover's sona, and Chicken Tender is my friend Prince's sona! Me and Prince have been friends for 4 years, and we both have been friends with Clover for 3 years! We got pretty close to the point where we call each other siblings all the time, so we thought it would be fun to make our sky kids literal siblings. I don't know why their names turned out the way they did, but a little funfact it actually has resulted in us referring to each other as the 'Lunchbox'.

Anyway! Since they're not my characters, I will do my best to depart what I DO know about them! (To note, it IS incomplete since they aren't my sonas and I can only recite what I know for a fact, and ofc, these things are subject to change by my sibling's will if they so desired). (I may also miss information here because I'm struggling to remember atm bc I just woke up forgive me)

For Roast Beef

I'll start simply. Roast Beef uses they/it pronouns (+ neos!), and is sort of like the middle sibling. (Lamb is the oldest, as they were born in a misplaced area of sky and returned to Orbit to walk through the gate again alongside Roast Beef and Chicken Tender, thus making them the oldest by technicality).

Roast Beef has an affinity for Golden Wasteland and lives there. It used to daydream of getting to befriend a dark dragon, which led to Lamb trekking into the Wasteland where they found a baby krill and gave it to Roast Beef. Roast Beef raised this dark dragon- named 'Puppy'- to be friendly... (or as friendly as one could make a dark dragon... Puppy at least likes Roast Beef, Seared Lamb, and Chicken Tender, but it's... Kinda a toss-up with anyone else.) (NOTE! Puppy is a COMPANION! Not a PET!)

Roast Beef has spent so long in Golden Wasteland that they learned how to communicate with Dark Dragons/Krill and learned a unique call for them. This, coupled with separation from majority of sky kids aside from their siblings, led them to lose some of their memory regarding how to communicate in languages most sky kid's can understand, so they often struggle to talk to others (in the event where they have to.)

Something notable, Roast Beef once went on a trip with Puppy to Eden- and the pull of the crystal resulted in Puppy turning on Beef and attacking it, resulting in Roast Beef being sent to Orbit, where it proceeded to get lost amongst the clouds. Puppy returned to Golden Wasteland after this, and eventually after noticing their absence, Seared Lamb made a trip to Eden to find Roast Beef in Orbit and bring them back to Sky.

I feel like it is also important to note, Roast Beef hates crabs with a passion.

For Chicken Tender

Chicken Tender uses he/they pronouns (+ neos!), and is the youngest of the siblings.

Chicken Tender lives in Hermit Valley at the peak in a hut. They have an affinity for carving things into walls and telling the story of Sky through them. They used to go around Sky putting in various wall carvings, and they used to hang around Lamb and Beef in the Wasteland and write warnings on the wall for other Sky Kids when they were close to dangerous areas. They would also write some of the things Lamb, Beef, or them would learn about sky.

Chicken Tender is very close with ancestors as well, and he learns a lot from them. He also likes to learn things about the stars in the sky and (if I remember correctly), knows how to navigate using them! He knows how to speak Butterfly as well, which I feel like is important to note.

When Roast Beef disappeared without a trace, Chicken Tender became pretty depressed, which only worsened when Lamb disappeared as well a few days later. When they didn't come back, Chicken Tender went off to find his siblings, which resulted in him getting a red crystal shard stuck in his chest, which turned half of his body to stone. (This is extremely similar to what happened to Lamb! Except Lamb's entire body turned to stone, accompanied by their autoimmune disorder which resulted in lowered ability to carry light throughout their body, resulting in the yellow-gold concentrated spots on their body!)

After that, Chicken Tender stayed in Orbit for a while, struggling with multiple things and finding it almost unbearable to return to Sky. He caught up with some spirits and ancestors there before he finally returned to Sky later.

AND I THINK THAT'S ALL I CAN DEPART AT THE MOMENT... I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT!!! The bit I can confidently share, anyway.

Well. I guess you may also have this comic of Chicken Tender and Lamb.

Thank you if you read all this!!!!

[moongothic]

During the Alabasta Arc, do you think Crocodile would have changed his 10-year plan if he had found out earlier that Luffy was his child? or do you think he would have avoided fighting Luffy altogether?

We need to considder that WHEN Crocodile would've found out about that though, because it does impact the answer here. Since The Loof and Croccywocky clashed three whole times, that means there's a lot of room for things to go wrong

Generally speaking, I do feel like Crocodile would've been so far into his plans that even if he found out and Luffy himself started begging Crocodile to not go through with his plans, like, it'd be too late. The sunk cost fallacy would probably get him hard (since he had been working towards this whole thing for literal years) At the absolute-most, if he was feeling GENEROUS, I think he might go back on the plaza bombing, but he would need to still have Kohza, Cobra and whoever remained of the royal army who had heard about Vivi's letter to die (but those assassinations would be easy to orchestrate, Crocodile would just have to swoop in to take control of the situation after the forces "took each other out"). And most problematically, this would make Vivi's fate... rough. Crocodile couldn't possibly have Vivi live and stay in Alabasta if he wanted to go through with his plans, but obviously Luffy wouldn't let Crocodile kill Vivi, letting her loose wouldn't work, and it's not like Croc would be able to keep her prisoner locked away and hidden in some basement for the rest of her life (or at least until Crocodile has nuked the WG out of orbit, if Vivi wanted her country back at that point she could have it, but there's no way Nefertari "I will kill you" Vivi would agree to an arrangement like that)

Also there is the question of "how does Croc find out and does Luffy know also" that does complicate things, but god knows I can only do so much speculating with all these moving parts.

But yeah let's get to the actual speculation part

If Croc found pre-Rain Dinners; (With this one, we're assuming Luffy finds out at the same time) Honestly I think in utter shock and horror Crocodile would've probably tried to leave Luffy and co locked and imprisoned in Rain Dinners (maybe kill Smoker then and there just to get rid of him) while he and Robin would go to Alubarna. It'd just be the easiest way to deal with Luffy at that moment. He'd be left safe and sound in his secret basement in a Seastone cell where he couldn't get out and nobody could get him. Crocodile can go and deal with his nefarious schemes and worry about dealing with Luffy later. If however Luffy and co manage to escape (perhaps with some help from our beloved Mr Prince), things would get messy because Crocodile would have to try to figure out a way to stop Luffy and re-prison him so he won't get in Crocodile's way without really hurting the idiot? Like, I'm sure Croc could figure out a way to do that somehow (bury Luffy in sand or something), but Luffy... Like. At this point, Luffy would be so fucking pissed off at Croc I'm sure he'd have no issue whooping Crocodile's ass, father or not. Like I want to you imagine a vet trying to deal with a really fucking angry feral cat. That's what Crocodile dealing with Luffy would look like in this situation. It'd be a mess. But yeah, in this scenario, I feel like the end result would be A) Crocodile manages to put Luffy and co into timeout and manages to pull of his plans successfully. This would lead to Luffy, Vivi and co having an eternal vendetta and deep hatred against Crocodile but honestly I think he'd be fine with it (as long as the idiots wouldn't go on like, IDK, a hunger strike. But if Croc's plan to obtain Pluton was to save his son from the WG then it'd be a great, passive aggressive move for Luffy to starve to death just to ruin Croc's plans. The fuck's he gonna do to stop Luffy at that point?) Or B) Crocodile fails to put Luffy into timeout and gets his ass kicked, his schemes get foiled though whether this happens at Rain Dinners or at the Tombs does impact Crocodile's fate; like if it's the latter I'd imagine he'd get captured by the marines and taken to Impel Down as normal, OR if it was the former, if Luffy was feeling generous he might allow Crocodile to piss off after his ass kicking, licking his wounds (Vivi would probably let the whole world know about what Crocodile had tried to do and the WG would still take his Shichibukai Rights, IDK how things would go from there though)

Post-RD but pre-Palace Showdown; (With this one, we're assuming Luffy doesn't know Croc's his father) This would be interesting because if Crocodile found out Luffy was his son AFTER having stabbed the dumbass through his gut and left him to die in the desert... What would Crocodile do then? He'd believe he had killed his only son. Would he fall into despair and give up because nothing would matter anymore at this point? Try to blow up the damn bomb early and go down with it? Or maybe he would continue with the plan as intended but completely disassociating the whole time. Or maybe he'd go into utter denial, refusing to believe Luffy was his son and try to continue with the plan but now completely furious and mentally unstable? Regardless, Luffy is alive and does show up to stop Crocodile again. And that would be a great relief to Croc. In the "fall to despair and give up" scenario I feel like his plans might remain abandoned, but with the other scenarios maybe Croc would continue onwards with a new passion. But yeah he'd once again be stuck trying to deal with a very angry feral cat and try to imprison Luffy without hurting a hair on him, and we'd be stuck with mostly same final outcomes as in the Rain Dinners-scenario I discussed earlier

Final Showdown in the Tombs; (With this one we're assuming Luffy also found out) This could be the most complicated because after Robin reveals her betrayal Crocodile doesn't have an easy method to obtain Pluton, and all this other plans so far have kinda gone to shit. He wouldn't be able to really tell from the tombs that Pell took the bomb into the sky and stopped the bombing, like as far as he knows based on the rumbling the bomb probably went off as intended, but knowing how the Strawhats have foiled his plans so far it's not impossible the bombing might not have gone as he intended. (Yes I know the bomb goes off WHILE Croc and Luffy have their final showdown but if I write my speculation with that in mind it'll just be the same answer as in the previous scenario) So at this point, after having mummified Luffy and leaving him to die a second time, if he found out Luffy was his son... Again, how the hell would he react? The only difference is that at this point his plans have been pretty much successfully ruined (as far as he knows), it's joever, and he killed his son? Like what's left for him to do? At this point? Should he just sit in the tombs and wait to get crushed to death by the rubble? But of course, Luffy shows up again, alive and well. Once again, I think that would be a huge relief, but considdering how things have gone... Would Crocodile have the energy to try to continue his plans anymore at this point? Would he even want to put up a fight and try to finish what he started, to try to imprison Luffy? Or would he just throw in the towel, let Luffy beat his ass if he really wanted? (Not that Luffy would be satisfied with it if Crocodile just gave up when he was there to whoop the gator's ass IN COMBAT, it would be a fair fight nor satisfying to beat up Croc if he's just letting it happen)

I dunno there's a lot of moving pieces and a lot of potential on where things could go, we could be here all day writing out all the Alternative Timelines etc

[midnightactual]

Thanks for responding to my question so promptly. Yeah, I completely agree with your comment. When we look at the material, they're not friends. They're loosely aligned individuals forced to remain in each other's orbit by factors outside their control (High school, Aizen and Urahara's 5D chess match, etc etc), and would've gone their separate ways come graduation.

I mean, high school friendships can grow into life-long relations, but in my lived experience, those tend to be the exception, not the rule.

ESPECIALLY Ichigo. I'm not saying Ichigo should've drop everything and moved to the Soul Society (despite everything in the narrative telling us his presence alone would literally break reality if he returned to the human world post-royal guard training), but after all the shit he's been through, with all the lies he's been fed his entire life and everything in the narrative pointed to Karakura being symbolic of his complete misery, compounded by all the horrible traumatic memories he has there - I'd sooner believe he'd get the hell out of dodge and never speak to these people again.

Sure, he might send a genetic FaceBook message once-a-blue-moon to congratulate a particular life milestone, but by and large, that's basically how I expected them all to go. They keep each other on their Social media friends list because they sorta-kinda knew each other once upon a time but without crazy circumstances forcing them together, they just... drift apart, go about their lives in separate parts of the world.

(And I won't even get started on Rukia's side of the story)

If Kubo wanted me to believe these people grew into such legit great friends, he did a damn poor job of it.

[ re: this ask ]

Many other people (strongly) disagree with me about it, and it is open to interpretation, and in transformative work people can do whatever they want, but in canon I am personally absolutely convinced both Chad and Uryū are permanently done with Ichigo's ass.

We know from the map of Karakura that Ryūken's hospital is maybe at most a 3-5 minute walk from the Kurosaki household, so if Uryū had the time to go on an "extended lunch break" (per the nurses) up on the roof to watch Chad's match, then he had the time to walk to the party. He didn't need the whole day off and that's nonsense. Now maybe he's not at Ryūken's hospital! But that would mean he moved away and left Karakura behind, and that seems unlikely given he's in Karakura to support Keigo opening a ramen shop, which is frankly far less important than Chad's boxing match. (I think this goes without saying. Uryū is not close to Keigo, and only Ichigo and Mizuiro are there, not everyone.)

The fact he doesn't interact at the ramen shop, is only identified by Kubo pointing out it's him in Klub Outside, and takes no part in dealing with the Hell Hollow situation (despite Szayelaporro showing up!) tells me that the 686 color spread of him facing the other way means he's over it and has come to agree with his dad. Accordingly, I choose to believe he deliberately didn't go to the party in 686, because he absolutely could've if he was still in Karakura, which he seems to be.

Likewise, we know that Chad is doing the WBO Heavyweight Title Match, as sponsored by Y. Hans Enterprises. Riruka makes a big point about how all the Fullbringers owe Ichigo:

It's not like Yukio wouldn't know this. And Yukio's whole thing is making himself feel useful to others no matter how much he acts otherwise, as he more or less directly tells Jackie (though it's obvious with him financing Xcution's various headquarters amenities):

So, what, Yukio couldn't have flown Ichigo and everyone else out to see Chad's match, if that's what Chad had wanted? Come on. It'd have been nothing to him, because his entire character is that money is meaningless to him. What does that tell you?

It tells you that Chad didn't want that.

Now add that on top of Chad not telling Ichigo about Xcution in the first place, not using the coin Ichigo saved as his Fullbring, and questioning Ichigo's resolve in TYBW. What does that constellation say? He's over dealing with Ichigo and has known they aren't really friends for the last two arcs.

So, as far as I'm concerned, Kubo did write that they all went "their separate ways come graduation". That's what these things tell me, anyway. I believe it is actually canon that they are not really friends as of the epilogue.

(And I carry this onward to other characters as well. I do not see Yoruichi and Kisuke playing some shared Mr. Miyagi role toward Ichigo, because they didn't do that even when he was obliged to interact with them. Why would they keep it up when it was no longer necessary? They wouldn't. It's simply not the vibe of canon thematically, nor of them as characters.)

[EDIT] Also, this phenomena gets directly called out right before the earlier panel of Yukio. Jackie admits she has realized Xcution weren't friends, just associates by circumstance. Yukio absorbs that, and moves on from it by choosing to make their connection real in its own right. Ichigo and company never had this talk and settled for believing in an illusion, even when they knew it was a mirage. This is literally Chad's entire character arc from Xcution Arc, through TYBW: just like Jackie, he knows it's fake, he just never says it.

[jpitha]

Dreams of Hyacinth 22

First / Previous / Next

Nick woke up a few hours later. Sleeping in a dusty chair wasn't the most restorative of sleep, but when it's all you have had in the last twenty four hours, you take what you can get. He sat up, rubbing his neck - it feels like he was on his way to pulling a muscle - and looked over to see Eastern gone.

"Tink, where's Eastern?"

"She's looking at the 'staterooms' Nick. She's looking for the 'nicest' one."

Or at least the one with the fewest books in it.

Hah, good luck with that. Just pick one and my support frames will move the books.

Where though?

I'll find somewhere. I'm six kilometers long, I'm not all books.

Yet.

It's the dream Nick. I can only attempt to reach it.

Nick realized they were all communicating cybernetically before he realized what was going on. "Tink, you can connect into our cybernetic network?"

"Nick, who do you think invented that stuff? All you have is a version of the systems and connections we have. Take it away and an AI is just a BI in a mechanical body. Your cybernetics use exactly the same communication protocols we do. You can chat with any AI in their mindspace or over your network. It's how most of us talk to each other. We'll use OTA communication around BIs to be polite."

"OTA?" Nick was walking down the hall towards Eastern's location. Tinker Toy may be huge, but her living space was sparse and cramped. Other than the Command Deck, there was three staterooms, a galley and a lounge. Raaden's penthouse apartment at the top of Hyacinth One was larger.

"Over The Air. You know, with your voice?" Tink sounded pleased with her joke.

Nick rolled his eyes. He got the feeling that Tink loved joked like that, given how she labeled the display during the fight. "Tink... are you going to get in trouble with anyone for what happend at Hyacinth?"

"Get in trouble with who, Nick? Hyacinth? That ship has sailed. Sol? Who in Sol? You have to remember that over the past few thousand years, nearly everyone in Sol has been at war with everyone else. No love lost there. Hell, our little scrap might get us moved to the head of the line if we wanted to dock at Ganymede One, or one of the Free Cities on Titan. No stress Nick, nobody cares."

"If you say so..." Nick wasn't too sure though. As someone for who crime was defined as stealing trinkets, something as big as getting into a firefight with a whole orbital felt like it should be a bigger deal than Tink was treating it.

Nick found Eastern in the largest of the three staterooms, working with two support frames to move books out of it.

An AI can run all of the operations of themselves when they're a ship, but the fact remains that ships were originally designed for people - BIs - to be aboard. Systems can also be controlled by panels and consoles and stations and sometimes things need to be done on human scale. Most ships and all Starjumpers therefore have support frames. They're humanoid robots that can operate semi-independently or under the direct control of the AI. They help the AI out with tasks that they need arms and legs for. Use of the support frames varies greatly among the ships. Newer ones were designed almost completely to be used without support frames, while older ships make extensive use of them. Tink is very old indeed, and has quite a few support frames running around her taking care of little tasks that she can't easily do - as well as letting her read when she has time.

Nick, Eastern and two support frames spent the next few hours clearing books, vacuuming, dusting and repairing the stateroom. Some of the lights were out and the furniture was all sealed to protect it from the ravages of time. After not too long though, they had a nice, clean - if dated - stateroom.

"Wow, I haven't felt this clean in centuries. I should keep you two around." Tink sounded genuinely impressed. "I had the frames start cleaning the Command Deck too, and I lit the displays. Come up and see."

Nick and Eastern walked back to the Command Deck, and it was completely different than what they ran into just yesterday. The displays were up and showing pertinent information, the two main chairs were up and clean and set up for sitting, rather than high gee maneuvers. There was even extra seats that were apparently folded into the walls that were out and clean. "Tink, it looks so... professional now." Eastern looked around approvingly. "You clean up real nice."

"Hah, thanks Eastern. Just because I'm old doesn't mean that I hold no value, right? Come on, have a seat. Let's figure out our next steps."

They sat in the command chairs and the chairs gently molded themselves around Nick and Eastern until it was as if they were made for them. Nick had to admit he had never been in a chair so comfortable. For a moment, both of them looked at the displays and at the room, marveling how far they had come in just a day.

Eastern looked around and the smile fell from her face. "Tink, how long has it been since you've had a crew?"

"A real, assigned to me crew? I haven't had a crew since I signed on with a polity as an independent contractor. Let's see, the last place I worked for like that was... The Republic of Saturn."

Nick blinked. The Republic of Saturn was a short lived polity that attempted to tie all the free cities in orbit around Saturn and their moons together. Nick had only heard of it because of a history cast he had listened to while bored on Hyacinth. Eastern had no idea what it even was. "I've never heard of the Republic of Saturn Tink, how long ago was that?"

"Oh Gosh, around eight hundred years ago at this point? Right around when the wormhole generators were developed. RoS paid for me to get upgraded when they first became available." Tink either saw or anticipated their looks. "I've had them overhauled since then. They're all relatively new generators, you'll be fine."

Nick let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "I only heard about RoS from a history cast I caught when I was bored. Didn't they last less than a century?"

Tink chuckled. "Yeah, maybe sixty years? They were full of heart, and really tried to make a go of things around Saturn, but everyone was just too far apart and too used to doing things independently. They just dissolved after it was clear that once the then current administrator died nobody was going to be able to win an election to replace her. Rather than devolve into petty in-fighting or worse, a war, she declared the RoS dissolved. She died not two years later too." Tink sighed audibly. "It was a good job though. Everyone was really trying to make it work. It was fun to be a part of something like that. They never missed a payday either, even when things started to fall apart."

"Is that why your staterooms are so nice? Did you carry dignitaries?"

"Oh, no. I mean, I did, but they didn't ride in my staterooms. When I had passenger duties with RoS they would slide in staterooms cubes into my cargo hold. You could slot in an entire hotel and make me a luxury liner in only a couple of hours. I think we did it once, I carried over four thousand people in opulent comfort. No, you're in Captain Nesmith's quarters. Jenny Nesmith was my last human captain. She was in the Republic of Saturn's Navy." There was a pause. "Ancestors, it was so long ago, but times like this is feels like it just happened. I look out at my clean stateroom and fully operational command deck and I expect to see them come in from the lounge or the mess, laughing and talking as they sat down and started work. It's been so long."

Eastern looked up at the ceiling. "Tink, are you lonely?"

Nick could have sworn he heard Tink take a breath, like she was trying to control her emotions. "You know Eastern, if you had asked me that question not two days ago I would have denied it until the Sun went out. But... having you and Nick here, and cleaning up my BI systems, lighting the Command Deck... yes. I was terribly lonely. So, thanks I guess. Thanks for hiring me, thanks for talking with me."

"It's no problem Tink, really" Nick smiled. "I'm glad we can help."

Another breath from Tink. "Okay. Next steps. After what you said about Empress Raaden and what's going on in Hyacinth and Sol you didn't just hire me to book it out of there. Unless you did, which is also fine. I'm happy to talk you anywhere you want."

Eastern looked at Nick. He nodded. "Tink, we're worried. Empress Raaden has already almost completely taken over Sol. She did it by buying it. She owns most of Sold now."

"Using her Voice to get people to give her stuff. I had wondered about that. I'm surprised that the previous Empress, Melody didn't do that too."

"Melody wasn't like that." Eastern was emphatic. "She was trying to help everyone."

"With sixteen or seventeen super dreadnoughts? Eastern, I saw the footage. They were larger than a Starjumper and could go atmospheric. She glassed three cities on Earth."

"I didn't say she helped everyone, she was trying to."

"I mean, killing everyone helps them escape being alive"

"Tink!" Eastern frowned.

"Okay okay, I get it. You liked Melody, and Raaden is more dangerous. And the last time there was an Empress with eyes on taking over, the AI faction came out of the colonies and free cities and attacked them. You want to reach out to the AIs?"

Nick nodded. "That was the thought we had yeah. But, we're two small time crooks from Hyacinth. We figured nobody was going to listen to us unless we got someone on our side."

Eastern continued. "That's why we sought you out. I searched the docking records for the oldest ship connected to Hyacinth. You fit the bill, so we hired you. We had hoped that if you believed us, you might know someone highly placed in the AI hierarchy and help us talk to them."

"I mean, it's a smart plan Eastern, really... " Tick sounded unsure. "But, I haven't talked to any of the other old AIs in decades. Centuries in some cases." Tink sighed. "So you know we don't have like... a country right? No real hierarchy. Every AI is supposed to be as important as any other."

"Sunny and Jameson and Yon and the other AIs we met on Hyacinth would disagree. Yon mentioned there is over one hundred million AIs in known space. Is that true?" Eastern was talking while she was playing with one of the screens on the Command Deck, cycling though the settings.

"I don't know our exact count, Ancestors I don't even know if we've done a proper census. That number sounds high, we probably should do a census - I'm getting off track, sorry. AIs don't have a country, we don't have a ruler, we're all supposed to be equal. It's not true of course, it never was, but that's how we present to everyone else. It's like... If you have a ship you're higher than those who just have a body. If you're old enough that you've had both, you're ever higher up. If you've been around long enough that you've swapped multiple times then you're probably one of the people we want to talk to."

"So who is in charge?"

"That's where it gets tricky. There's probably like ten AIs I could name that someone, somewhere said were 'in charge.' But, if they don't care, or don't want to get involved, it doesn't matter who we talk to."

"Tink, are you stalling? You're giving us all this history about AIs but not telling us who we should talk to."

"Eastern, I'm trying to explain that I don't know who to talk to. I have been out of AI politics for centuries. After Saturn, I didn't want to do anything. I took up cargo because I didn't want to get a body and I didn't want to deal with people anymore." Tink paused again. The room was silent save for the humming of fans cooling the displays. "Nick, Eastern. You were right in trying to find an old AI to be able to have the pull to talk to someone in the AI faction, but you picked me. I'm so old, and so out of the loop that I wonder if anyone will even recognize me."

"Oh Tink." Eastern's expression softens. "I'm sure it's not all that bad. There has to be someone you can call, someone we can talk to. Even if they're not in charge, they might know someone. It's not like we're on a time limit. If it takes a little running around, we're okay with that."

"And look Tink." Nick puts down his pad. "You've done a lot for us. You got us off Hyacinth, you kept us safe. You don't owe us anything. You can drop us off on Parvati and go on, safe in the knowledge we're not mad or anything at you. If you don't want to get involved, drop us off and we'll continue on. It'll be fine."

Eastern nodded. "It really will Tink."

There was another pause. "Ancestors. Are you sure you two are criminals? You're way too nice." She chuckled. "After all that, I can't just leave you two on Parvati, as nice as it is. I'm just... trying to manage expectations. It's not like I can link a beacon to the secret AI headquarters and get a fleet in an hour. We'll figure it out, and I'll get you to someone that can help. It's not like I have anything better to do, and it turns out I like having a crew."

"We're your crew now, not just passengers?" Nick smiled.

"You've been cleaning and moving furniture and you set up a stateroom. They're for crew. You're crew."

"Thanks Tink." Eastern grinned and looked down at the readout. She finally stopped adjusting it and was scanning the area. "Okay. So who should we try and reach first then? Give us the first name you can think of Tink, don't overthink it."

The answer came instantly. "Chloe."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Who is that?"

"She's an old AI, like me. Used to be a Starjumper back before we had the wormhole generators. She had a nationalistic streak, always thought we should have our own country. If anyone would know who to talk to about a combined AI force, she would."

"When's the last time you spoke with Chloe?"

"Centuries, probably. I know she thought I was silly when I signed on with Saturn." She affected a voice that must have been her impression of Chloe. "Tink my friend, you are throwing your lot in with the wrong folks. You need to direct your energies towards our own nation." She giggled. "Chloe was nice, but always a bit... full of herself. I'll be interested to see if she's mellowed at all."

"Sounds like we have a plan then. Do you know how to reach her?"

"Hmm. It's been a while Nick, but I still have her contact coordinates. Let me link an beacon and see if I get a reply."

Across the vast distances of space, communication is difficult. It's not like someone can call someone else up on any kind of real time communication device. After the wormhole generators were developed, communication times got shorter, but the issue of reaching a specific person remained. What developed out of that was the idea of contact coordinates. Somewhere out in the blackness of interstellar space is an automated relay buoy. If someone wants to reach you, they link a comms beacon to that location, it receives the message, and then the buoy links a beacon to you. It's your responsibility to make sure the buoy knows your current location, but this way, you can be galivanting across space and not have to tell everyone everywhere where you are if they need to reach you. They just need to know your buoy's coordinates. It's not like one would need to change the buoy's location either, so if you gave out your buoy coordinates decades or centuries ago, chances are good people could reach out to you still. Tink knew Chloe's address, so she linked her a comms beacon asking for a meet.

"What now?"

"We'll just hang out here a few days Nick, see if we get a reply. I'd say if we don't hear from Chloe in a week, we won't. We can figure out what to do next after that."

"Oh. Okay."

"What's wrong Nick?"

"Oh, it's a good idea Tink, really. I just..."

"What is it?"

"I was hoping we didn't have to eat twenty year old ration bars for a week."

"Ancestors. I forgot you need to eat. Shit. Okay, hold on, maybe we can signal for a resupply from Parvati. We're in system, shouldn't be that big of a deal. Uh I'm a little low on funds though... any chance you can cover it? You are the ones eating after all."

Eastern laughed. "Sure thing Tink. We got it. Need anything else while we're calling in for a resupply? Don't worry about the cost, we stole a pile of money from the Empress."

Tink laughs. "In that case, yes. I need a few thousand rounds of slugs for the throwers, a rack of missiles - I'll tell you the specs if they're willing to place the order - new mass for the printers, and some spare parts that are difficult to print. My Stardrive hasn't run at 100% in centuries. If I'm going to be out and about again, I should get it fixed."

"Sounds like it's almost a refit."

"Nothing so large Eastern, just... getting me back up to full readiness. I think I'm ready to rejoin society again."

"Happy to help then. Let's call Parvati and place that order."

First / Previous / Next