#I said to myself I fuckin’ wouldn’t learn the political shit

[twoforflinching-ktbedition]

How the FUCK did I end up versed in fuckin’ Baronies politics?

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

Tag List

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[shugojima]

DAISHOU X SAKUSA X OSAMU X YN🍋

⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗙𝗨𝗟𝗟𝗬!

NOT EVERYONES CUP OF TEA!!

𝖳𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖮𝖲 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌/𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗄.

𝖡𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄/𝖼𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀✔︎

𝖢𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀✔︎

𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒✔︎

S𝖺𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗆✔︎

𝖧𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇✔︎

𝖧𝗎𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇✔︎

𝖴𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑✔︎

𝖣𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇✔︎

𝖳𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉✔︎

(yall better thank me for I left out on the puking part)

𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙.

---

"Get dressed. We're going to the doctor. I'm sick of this shit." Daishou said as he pushed your mouth off his cock.

"I'm sorry, baby! I try again, please!"

You begged him but he doesn't give a damn anymore.

He was sick of you. Sick of you not pleasing him the way he wanted you to. You kept gagging over his cock, kept fucking using our teeth, kept disobeying his orders, kept riding him like a mokey on crack and if that all wasn't enough already, your pussy was just not tight enough for him.

"We're done trying."

Timeskip

So here you are. At your gynecologist sitting in the waiting room.

"Do we really have to be here?" you asked as he just shot you a threatening look.

"Tf you think I'll keep tolerating this shit? Are you serious??!" He was mad. Really fucking mad. It was your fault after all.

"L/n, room 3 please."

The both of you stood up walking towards the room and sat down waiting for Dr. Sakusa to come.

You liked him, he was always nice and he made sure you felt comfortable and everything was clean while he examimated.

Although he had something scary about him.

The door opened as he walked in with another pretty good looking, grey haired man.

His gloves on and his mouth covered as always he walked up greeting you, shaking hands.

"Mr. L/n. Mr. L/n. Would it be ok if Mr. Miya would be here as well? He's still learning and needs some interaction with patients." he politely asked when you nodded and Suguru just went "I don't care."

"What brought you here?"

Dr. Sakusa asked as he looked at the monitor infront of him, typing something.

Suguru inhaled deeply before he spoke

"My wife has a problem with pleasing her man. I told her again and again how I want her to do it and she just can't manage. At least, please tell her how to control her gagging cause I don't fucking need puke all over my dick."

"THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EMBERASSING ME!" I said as I wanted to run out of the room but my doctor hold me by my wrist as he looked up at me.

"Sit down. We'll fix that problem." he said as he stood up walking over to his assisent whispering something in his ear before facing my husband.

"You want us to teach your wife, Sir?"

Suguru narrowed his brows in confusion but nodded. "Whatever it takes to correct this shit."

"So be it."

Soon I found myself tied down on the gynecologist chair, a thick rope around my belly and legs, keeping me from moving.

Suguru just sat there watching the scene as Mr. Miya spoke up.

"I'll start training her gagging reflex now. The doctor will keep an eye on her throat and breathing so he can see where's the problem."

My husband just nodded as the grey haired men pulled down his white jeans showing off his half hard cock.

"First make him hard. Then do it the way you always do. I wanna judge by myself." he said hovering on top of me as he put his tip at my lips.

I licked around it before I started sucking him off.

I gave it my all just to show Suguru that he's wrong and also to somehow show them that I fucking can.

Mr. Miya tho... was absolutely not impressed. He started laughing at me "Pathetic. I wouldn't want a bitch that sucks it as bad as she does either."

I stopped a second before my eyes started to fill with tears as the doctor stood on the side, close to my face watching my work.

I tried harder.. I sucked harder.... hell I tried everything. But it wasn't enough.

"Now lemme see what you do when it hits the back of your throat." he said as he thrusted deep inside leaving me choking and gagging instantly on his thick cock. He was even bigger than Suguru.

"Way to go...." he said as he pulled out when you looked at your husband tears running down your face, he just sat there fucking his fist.

"I really have to watch you getting fucked by some other guys to get off on you. That's how much of a useless whore you are." he said spitting straight in your face as you shut your eyes closed.

"Fucking. Useless... nghhh.... piece of meat." he murmured under his breath and when you opened your eyes you saw Dr. Sakusa loosen the ropes on your legs and belly.

"Can we... please stop here?" you begged as you tried to stand up but eventually got pulled by strong hands.

Sakusa grabbed you by your hips, turned you around on the chair and lifted your ass up.

"Mr. L/n... Is there something else I need to work on with her?" he asked as he pulled up the fabric of my skirt.

"Bitch has a hole wide as the fucking ocean. Don't think you can fix that right away." he chuckled still stroking his hard cock.

"You have no idea what we're capable of, Mister." he said as he shot Miya a look and he went to a drawer next to his table.

When I heard the sound of metal rattling and Sakusa putting on new gloves I panicked.

"WHAT DO YOU DO WITH ME??!"

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH. I HAVE OTHER PATIENTS HERE." The black haired ordered me as he turned me on my back again and re tied me down.

"Eww... Disgusting fuckhole you got there." he said as he sat himself on his chair.

"Scalpel please."

WHAT IN THE FUCK?!!!!

"NOOOOO!!! PLEASE DON'T!! FUCKIN HELL SOMEO-" I got cut off screaming for help as the grey haired fucked himself into my mouth again.

"Damn... you some noisy ass bitch."

thrusting deeper I felt Sakusas gloved fingers holding my lips and the cold metal on my entrance.

When he cut.... My muffled screams filled the room as my throat tried to push out Miyas cock.

I felt my blood running down between my ass checks as two of his gloved fingers entered me and I screamed in pain and pleasure.

I felt like I'm about to pass away.

My vision got a little blurry as Sakusa leaned ontop of me, his glove and his arm dripping my red juice as he smeared it all over my face and Miyas cock looking at me in disgust.

"Nasty whore." He said as he sat down again and started stitching me together.

I already lost so much blood I felt absolutely numb. Just a little pressure as he slid the needle into my skin.

"Done." He said as he stood up positioning himself at my bloddy hole.

"Let's see if I did it right." he said pushing with thick cock inside as I choked on his assitents cock.

"Nghhhh fucking hell this is.. good."

Breathing heavily he continued "I might have to.. nghhh... give it some more

stitches. It's so tight I'm afraid it will ripp open again around a fat cock."

Pulling out he walked over to Suguru, who was getting off on all this shit as Miya finally gave me some air to breathe.

"You sick bastards..." I whispered since I didn't have the strength to speak any louder.

Suguru walked up to me as I heard the doctor say "I hope you're satisfied with my work, Sir." Making gestures to tell him he should give it a try taking off the bloody gloves.

"Fuck. That's what I was talking about... nghhhh bitch is finally gripping around it real good." He kept fucking you, the blood smearing around everywhere by now as you felt those gloved bloody fingers opening your mouth again.

"Seems like we fixed your granny hole but what about that terrible throatfuck you give? I'll probably have to..." he rammed inside. "Destroy your throat so hard that you don't have the strenght to start gagging and all this shit." He grabbed my head and fucked it onto his monstrous cock. Again and again... and again... until I felt his hot cum spilling down the walls of my throat when I eventually saw black.

All I could hear before totally breaking down was

"I'll dump that whore anyways."

[nighttimepixels]

TALK TO US ABOUT MASS EFFECT I HAVE BEEN AN INSANE MASS EFFECT/SHAKARIAN TRASH PERSON SINCE 20-FUCKING-11 AND LEMME TELL YOU THOSE FEELINGS HAVENOT TARNISHED A SINGLE FRACTION IN THOSE TEN YEARS OH MY GOOOOOOODDDSSSS!!!!!!!

I DEMAND A PLAY-BY-PLAY UP TO THE MINUTE OF YOUR REACTIONS TO EVERYTHING!!!!

you are so valid and I totally see why everyone I've ever mentioned it to loves the hell out of it

aksdjlsdfj I meannnn if you want to hear my rambling about it then hell yeah

Okay, gonna put this below the cut to save everyone else XD also- since I'm not leaving this Mass Effect obsession anytime soon, if you're not interested in seeing occasional posts about it, please feel free to block the tag "night plays ME"~

(mild spoilers ahead??)

((also for real I mean it when I say this is rambling as hell lol, apologies and no stress if absolute no one reads all this))

OKAY SO Mass Effect 1-

Stars help me, I was honestly hooked right from the start?? Like even in Legendary Edition (the combined trilogy just re-released in one "can play it on one system + minor improvements", for anyone who doesn't know) where it's smoothed out, of course it's obvious that ME1 is a decade old... but the foundation for these relationships are all there and gods I love them already.

Like - Kaiden right off the top is a delightful good fightin lad, what the hell. I've heard that he's viewed as 'bland' by a good portion of the fan community but I dunno, he's a delight and even more complex by the time 2 rolls around and you encounter him on Horizon, it was honestly Ashley I was way more meh about - mostly because before you can learn about her family history/etc, she comes off as hella xenophobic and I was immediately offended for my growing space family that she didn't like/trust all the aliens around, pfff.

(she gets redeemed a bit through further actions/evolving thoughts, but I thought in retrospect it was a bummer that they didn't flip the order there, give her a chance to be liked before the complicating factor of being so rude about aliens >:c that then she could grow from... ah well. Apparently she has a good arc but uh, let's just say I chose Kaiden at the "key junction" in the latter part of the game so I won't be seeing anymore of Ashley uh... anytime soon, haha.)

Garrus??? Is??????? The ABSOLUTE best???????????

I liked him from the start, I'm always a bit of a sucker for a rogue-detective "the system won't bring this bastard to justice, so I've got to" type and all their moral shadiness XD But he just gets better, honestly, and where I'm at in ME2 (right before the Reaper IFF mission, as of typing this, with everyone's loyalty!) I am only digging myself deeper into this hole-

-*wheezing* okay anyways -

Wrex is AMAZING I love fightin' middle-aged krogan bastard, gods. Liara is great too, I'm a sucker for a wlw relationship (playing fem!Shepard, so) - buuuut I'll admit she's a bit more one-note in ME1. Last week while I was still on ME1 I remember hearing (while trying to dodge spoilers) that her arc is really good, though. I think they leaned a little hard on the 'innocent but sexy' sterteotype on her (so despite the yikes aspect of a few of the things I've learned in ME2, lol, I actually really like the complexity that's been added to her character.)

Saved Liara first, so by the time I got to Noveria and had the standoff with Benezia there was the chance to have emotions over Liara having to face her TwT and of course, I made the questionable but quality decision to free Queen Rachni heheh. no ragrets

More than a blow-by-blow of my choices though I totally wanna take the chance to say that even in the mild jankiness of ME1 (goddammit, the Mako.... please..... please just go up this impossible cliff I just want to resource hunt-) the way that the lore, both obvious/key to main plot and the lesser/filler/background/world-building kinds... I just love it. It incorporates it well, you can go ham in the codex learning more, or just dive into the basics - it's clearly a complex galaxy (and they do an even better job in 2 of fleshing it out further), and it never really felt overwhelming. It was pretty natural figuring it all out-!

Plus the interesting implications of resource hunting amongst the sapient races, and the little side missions you better bet I did every one of- there's so much rich depth in the story if you do 'em!! (And that lead with that Keeper side mission...? Looking back, damn, clever foreshadowing-!!!)

And oh my gods, Ilios??? hell yeah. I loved that mission so much, especially having Garrus & Kaiden with me when talking to the hologram/computer, and more than anything, that last sprint in the Mako trying to get to the jump before it closed-???

yeet the boi-

Also mannn I love a good setpiece, and having to go up the side of the elevator, space-side?? such a cool setup!!

Plus it felt good having been Paragon enough (as simple as the good v bad vibe system is, I don't hate it, lol) to avoid one of the Saren fights, ngl. And the er, "second fight" with Sovereign-Saren.... hell yeah

... I'll admit I had to double check my choice re whether to save the Council. I did in the end, but I swear, sometimes the way they phrase things I'm like ".... okay but Garrus is right, defeating Sovereign is more important than these few leaders??????" woops. Listen, priorities, is all I'm saying..... (￣ヮ￣|||)ゞ

'Course later they emphasize (in ME2) that there were 10,000 people on that same ship and I was like well I wouldn't have second guessed if I'd known that, I mean c'mon-

Also I did indeed romance Liara in this one, so I got that scene ;Dc But,,,, I also knew by the end that I was totally gonna romance Garrus in 2 since he's an option then finally,,,,, lemme tell you the guilt as I waffled over whether to romance Liara bc of it. hahaha.

Aaaaand Mass Effect 2-

So I'm only up to right before the Reaper IFF Mission, so I don't know the ending, etc etc lol. That said, I've just finished every side mission I've found with the exception of the Shadowbroker Quest and the Arrival Quest (I've heard the latter basically leads into ME3, and the former is best either right before the Omega 4 jump or in postgame).

So from the start - fuck yeah fuck yeah what a high adrenaline start Shepard noooooo but also yes save Joker aH-

The motion comic too hot damn nice job

I loved this setup, seriously - especially forcing Shep into this situation, having to work with/for Cerberus, and the compelling reasoning given behind "why" they do what they do (I especially found it a good point that the Salarians have the Task Force, the Asaris the Commandos, the Turians the- etc... like, true, when you put it like that, having a similar group advancing human interests/solving human interstellar problems is pretty reasonable...). That said, I love too that it really isn't shied away from how Cerberus is nonetheless fucked up - or its at least done fucked up stuff.

Listen, I still think some messed up stuff is gonna be revealed in 2's endgame......... after that Horizon mission and the Collector's ship???? TIM I SEE YOU YOU SHADY MF-

aaanyways lol...

I'm so so glad on a gameplay level they nixed the Mako style exploration. A few Hammerhead missions are fine and a lot more focused than the slippery ass navigation in that glorified ATV, pfff. The probes are a neat way of getting after similar resources - and more importantly, having good levels and some good hubs (the Zakera Wards, Omega, Ilium, etc) is way way more fun than having a more 'sprawling' space that is.... a lot of empty nonsense, lol.

Then there's the fact that we get Joker right off the bat and you can interact with him so much - and him and EDI??? Get out gods I love them. Kasumi is so right when she says they sound like a bickering old married couple lol. I have a terrible feeling that some shit is gonna happen with EDI..... but I don't think she's evil as-is, at least.

Side-eying the hell out of those "access forbidden" parts of her that she doesn't even know.... and the fact that her AI core has a locked door access................... something's gonna happen gdi LEAVE OUR ADOPTED AI ALONE.

(Also Joker pls stop fracturing your thumb on the mute button)

Also please save me there are so many hot aliens in this game,,,,, the xeno/monsterfuckers really comin' through strong in the sequels............... doin' the lord's work........................................

In general, I love how many levels ME stepped up in two with complexity and interwoven narratives!! Like, to the point it'd be almost a drag to replay ME1, even though it was fun going through it (if occasionally a bit tedious with the cookie cutter rando planet science/mine facilities, lol). Like, just from how fun and interesting ME2 is, mostly! more of all the pre-introduced races, plus new ones, plus more filling in of intragalactic politics, and more interesting implications of all these space-faring races mixing....

Also gods WREX and his planet holy shit,,,,, fuckin' hell yeah my man get their shit together and also adopt Grunt yes good-

And Mordin??? My singing semi-evil scientist best friend forced to confront his choices more than he thought he ever would have???? With some of the best ongoing general report chatter of all the companions??

(when I tell you I choked on my coffee when I talked to him after confirming romance choice w/ Garrus and that 'pamphlet' and 'anaphalactic shot if ingesting-' kajsldkfjsldfjk)

Like, fuck, the fact that they actually dive into the mixed morality and horrors of the genophage, and you can confront Mordin on it, for good reason, yet he still stands his ground, until finally some bits of his loyalty mission seem to... affect him, and I'm guessing might set up things for 3 with him? Unsure, but either way, damn, the fact that they start to dig into it...

And Taliiiii my beloved forbidden alien wife TwT her loyalty mission was SO GOOD. I love how varied they all are?? Getting to defend her and discover what she'd unwittingly been a part of-!!

Zaeed is a bastard but tbh I love that he is and that he's unapologetic in him - and Kasumi omg, best thief. A heist?? Gods, yes- I love our couch lounge chats XD

Samara is..... illegally.......... she's an illegally powerful and beautiful and eloquent MILF...........................

(.... listen I'm sapphic as hell and I'm kicking my own ass for picking her up last aksjdlfksjdfl - but her loyalty mission, damn. And seeing how there's this interesting cultural subset, and the struggle with the Asari in that they unquestioningly accept/respect justicars, but also know that the impact outside their culture is a diplomacy nightmare waiting to happen-)

,.,,,,,T,,, Thane,,,,,

I am weak for morally implicated murder dads okay?? And that voice??? His mannerisms?????? How you first see him, and that prayer after assassinating her...???????? And his history/his people's history with the hanar, gods I love how messy it is, it feels so much more real!

Also Jack is a mess and I love her (and want to get her some therapy, omg), and her and Miranda nearly duking it out after you've done both their loyalty missions??? so good and makes a lot of sense-! Honestly I would love more interactions between teammates on the ship, but there's already so much the devs had to balance I can't blame 'em for minimizing, heh. But suffice to say I also love Miranda and Jacob, even if I'm softest for my alien crew XD Hell yeah Jacob, we'll get loud and spill drinks on the citadel indeed TwT

.... I could write a whole essay on how much I love Garrus oTL Perhaps because he and Tali are the throughlines from 1 on your 2 crew, I have some of the strongest feelings about them... but genuinely, he was one of my favorite companions in the first game, and how you find him as Archangel in two? Getting to help him fight his way out after he's gone nearly 48 hours straight fighting off three gangs alone, jfc. His vengeance quest and what can happen there.... That line? fuck me, that line -

It's so much easier to see the world in black and white. Grey? I don't know what to do with gray...

How DARE you come for my heart like this, devs holy shit

(also, some other choice faves so far from the series from him include We can disobey suicidal orders?? and This wasn't in my training manual... [in 1, if you have him with you @ th Thorian fight] and his whole.... pop the heat sink - in his romance ;Dc)

asdasdfksadjfkl like I said I can write an essay on him PFFF suffice to say I'm very looking forward to his romance scene and where things go in 3

But yeah gods I'm just gonna keep rambling if I'm not careful lol. Gods I don't even know what to talk about it's all so good and while I can understand people roasting the obviousness of Paragon V Renegade (v neutral) choices/alignments, I think they do a pretty damn good job in 2 of pushing it further - to the point that there were some times that I accidentally got renegade points and I wasn't that mad, haha. There's so much fun in the interactions that I just have a good time anyways~

I have so many thoughts about TIM (The Illusive Man) and Cerberus.... theories evolving galore............... and like, what the hell!! Omega 4 going to the center of the galaxy is such a cool twist, goddamn - though my heart still breaks at losing Kaiden (his line if you haven't romanced him?? about feeling like he lost a limb when he lost you??? holy shit.... but I also can't blame him for not trusting Cerberus to the point of it affecting his ability to trust Shepard... like fuck Shep go after himmmm) I'm really excited to see where that goes since he comes back in 3, and what the fuck happens with Cerberus bc while I love the fact that obviously there are a lot of people in it for the right reasons, doing good work, there are those that are doing the opposite, and I have a very bad feeling about where TIM will end up landing....

All that said though I need to do the Reaper IFF mission (where I'm lightly spoiled as to getting That Boy, but not how/what happens to make it so - just that it's apparently wise to have all your side missions done before getting him...) and the actual Omega 4 jump. So we'll see what happens and what I think about it from there heheh!

.... major kudos and genuine props if you made it here to the end, I am so sorry for not editing on condensing all this, and appreciate you so much ;w;

[thiswasinevitableid]

17 chosen and 20 lunar for Indruck, nsfw, please!

Here you go!

Lieutenants Log, stardate 10015, Joseph Stern recording

We’ve finally arrived at an agreement with the Aquariads, the species who control this moon. They will allow our research team unfettered access to the planet, but at an odd price. They requested one of our crew agree to be married off to a high ranking member of their governing council. 

I suspect, but cannot prove, that this is not a desirable being to be married to. He’s a revered seer, and yet they’re willing to couple him to a human and not one of their own? Suspicious.

Myself and the other single members of the crew were all given extensive questionnaires on everything from our sexual preferences to our daily habits. It took me a good hour and a half to finish it. 

After a full earth day of waiting, we received word that chief astrobotanist Duck Newton was the chosen human. I have no idea how this happened, as Duck has little tolerance for what he views as “woo-woo” things like precognition. But he was chosen all the same. 

Because this is Duck, he grumbled a bit, but cheered up when he learned he would only be required to stay with his new husband for three weeks before joining us on our field word, and that we can send him specimens for identification and research. If we decide Aquaria is the planet we’ve been looking for and establish more permanent research stations here, Duck will be expected to spend at least a few days a month with the seer. Mama made it clear that if the idea was truly not something he could agree to, she would call the deal off and we could try another approach. Duck said that wouldn’t be necessary, and that he could think of far worse things they could have asked of us. 

We deposit him at the seers home tomorrow. After that, we begin our exploration of Aquaria, fourth moon of the plant Oceana and (hopefully) the home of the antidote we’ve been searching for. 

Joseph Stern, Lieutenant on the spaceship Amnesty, signing off.

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

Duck waves to the skiff as it pulls away, his planetside bag slung over his shoulder. There’s only one way to go; down the single stone levee, decorated with beautiful tiles, to the massive mansion at the end. 

It reminds him of the photos of Venice he’s seen in old National Geographics, beautiful buildings floating atop a planet of water. He knows Aquaria has islands, but the majority of it’s cities are on or near the water because most of its residents live beneath the waves. They remind Duck of mermaids, with scaled tails and fins giving way to humanoid upper bodies and faces. As far as creatures to get politically married off to, he could be staring down worse. 

There’s still the problem of not knowing why this mer is off by himself and without a partner. Or, as becomes obvious once Duck is inside, any company at all. The other high-ranking aquariads they’ve met come with miles of attendants; here there’s only the high, curved ceilings and rippling water. Maybe the guy is shy? Or maybe he’s a dick? Or just real fucking scary to look at?

As he walks further into the house, he notices the tiled walls are covered in striking murals that, when coupled with the odd half-light allowed in by the green glass windows, makes him feel as though he’s wandering through a dream. The pools and canals criss-cross the floor, and really the ground is more water than concrete, the fact he’s able to walk at all is a concession to the fact some aquariads evolved to be land dwelling. 

A splash makes him turn, and in the pool to his right a black fin cuts the water. He steels himself to not insult the alien he’s now legally attached to. The figure rises from the water, setting his arms on the edge of the stony floor and Duck steps back as a wide, toothy smile appears in an angular face. 

“Hello, Duck Newton.” His tail is the same black as his fin, and his silver hair is tucked behind ears of the same color, which Duck has learned can fan out as a way of communicating. 

“Uh, hi. You must be-”

“Indrid Cold, yes. Apologies, a peril of my profession is that I will always be a little bit ahead.”

“Right. So, uh, guess we’re gonna be seein a lot of each other the next couple of weeks.” He aims for a joking, nonchalant tone. 

“Yes, as we’re married.” He cocks his head, confused, then grins brighter, “Oh, oh I see, you are attempting levity because this is all very awkward. I, ah, I appreciate that. Here, let me show you where you’ll be staying” Indrid pushes off the wall, swimming gracefully on his back as Duck follows him down the hall. The center of the house has more skylights, allowing him to see that his host’s fins aren’t pure black; small silver and white dots are scattered across it. He wonders if he could find constellations in them.

“Here we are.” Indrid gestures to a room, one where the only water is in the form of two deep blue half-circles on the left and right walls. The center of the room is a large bed, linens gleaming whites and pale greens, and the skylight nestles against a chandelier of finely detailed rosey glass. 

“Holy shit.” Duck sets his bag down on a trunk near the door.

“Do you like it?” A flash of yellow up Indrid’s fin, echoed in the dots on his tail.

“I mean, anythin looks ritzy after months on a spaceship but” he turns, smiles, “yeah, I do. Thanks for giving me such nice digs.”

“You are most welcome. Now, this room is designed to give guests privacy. See that red panel on the wall? If you press it, it opens the pool on that side up to the rest of the house, allowing myself or servants to come in and help you.”

“So you do have staff.”

“They’re, ah, more like errand folk. None live here.” Indrid clears his throat, “I can show you the rest of the house, although if you need to sleep I can let you be. I am, ah, not entirely clear on where your internal clock sits now.”

“Aquaria’s days are about four days longer than earth’s, so I ain’t too thrown off. Happy to see more of the place.”

Indrid nods, and Duck follows him out of the bedroom. Most of the other rooms they pass are sparse squares of walkways and still water, under which lies the parts of the house Indrid uses. When they reach Indrid’s quarters, he spots what looks to be an artists’ studio under the clear blue water. 

“You paint?” He kneels and peers down for a better look, Indrid bobbing nearby. 

“Indeed. Art helps me make sense of my visions, and I enjoy it besides. In fact, all the murals you see in this house are my doing. There are even more under water.”

“Damn, that’s fuckin incredible. If I get my SCUBA gear rigged up, maybe I can get a tour?”

“Scu--oh, yes, an underwater breathing apparatus. We have a much smaller device that can help you breathe and sea down here” he dips his head at the pool, “unfortunately, the one I commissioned for you will not arrive until close to the end of your stay. They, ah, did not give me much time to prepare. Hence the lack of many comforts I might otherwise give, as well as places for you to and I to talk, eat or do, ah, other activities together.” The yellow intermittently flashing up his fin gives way to a burst of pink. 

Oh, right. Duck pulls up his infopad (given a generous waterproofing treatment prior to his leaving Amnesty) and opens the contract he signed. 

“Yeah. About that. Says here they expect us to, uh, ‘consummate’ the marriage.”

“I’m aware” Indrid’s voice creeps up.

“Do you...wanna do that now?” He spins a finger in the water.

“I, ah, I beg your pardon?”

“I mean, seems like we could just get it outta the way, rather than have the fact we gotta fuck someone we didn’t pick hangin over our heads?” 

“This...this is not at all how I wanted this to go.” 

Duck looks up and immediately wishes he could reverse time; Indrid looks genuinely hurt, ears flicked back like a scolded dog. 

“Duck I, ah, well, you did not choose me, that is true. But I chose you.”

“Well, fuck.” He sits down with a heavy sigh, “figured some big wigs used those surveys to pick me out. Guess what they say about assumin things is true.”

“.....”

“It makes an ass outta you and me?”

Indrid blinks, then snickers, “Your humor is part of why I chose you. It is very bad, but also extremely good.”

“Glad you think so. Pretty sure Mama was ready to blow me out the airlock for some of the ones I made on the way here.” He knows he’s dodging the conversation they should be having, but how the fuck is he supposed to respond when an alien mermaid tells him he picked him to be his husband?

Indrid swims over so he can rest his arms and chin on the stone, glancing shyly up at Duck as he says, “I suppose I also made an ass of myself, as you would say, by assuming you would not see this as an obligation.”

“I mean, even if you chose me, don’t this feel like an obligation to you?”

“No. For me, it is a reminder that most of my kind are too afraid of me to even give me a chance to court them. And that the council thinks I will get into too much trouble without someone to distract me now and then, and decides the company I am worthy of is an alien explorer with no interest in me.”

“I mean, the only reason we agreed to this is because there might be a plant on Aquaria that can treat the illness runnin rampant back home. So at least it’s for a good cause?”

Indrid flicks his ears, red running up his fin, “What you are doing is noble. What I am doing is being used as a way to keep your exploration team in line.”

Duck winces, “Fuck, I’m, uh, I’m just gonna stop talkin now.”

For an agonizing five minutes they sit there in silence, contemplating their situation and stealing glances at each other. Duck always tried to do the right thing, tried to live an honest life and treat the people in it with respect. He’s been kind and polite to beings up and down the galaxy. He can extend some of that to his own husband, can’t he?

“Indrid?”

The alien raises his head.

“Can we start over?”

“Yes. But I do not see how-”

Duck holds out his hand, “Name’s Duck. Thanks for invitin me in and lookin after me the few weeks.”

Indrid’s smile widens as he understands the game, and he takes the human’s hand, “A pleasure to meet you. I am Indrid, seer to the court of Aquaria, and your anxious husband in spite of the now-changing, much more pleasant futures.”

They finish their tour, the humid air less stifling in the wake of their confessions. Indrid shows him the kitchen, the sitting room, and the gardens which, to Duck’s delight, are as much above the water as below. 

After that, Indrid excuses himself to attend to seer duties and Duck goes back to his room to unpack. As he’s putting away his toothbrush and razor near a large, elaborate tub carved from golden stone, one of Indrid’s admissions from earlier floats through his mind, bobbing there like a buoy until he gets a chance to ask it.

When they’re in the gardens, Duck taking notes as Indrid dives and surfaces with new things to show him, the human slips his feet into the water and says, “Indrid? You said my offerin to fuck you wasn’t what you wanted. What, uh, what did you want?” 

The alien blinks, slowly, pink and teal flashing in his tail, “It is a bit silly in retrospect, but since I knew we would not have time for a proper human marriage courtship, I thought I could mimic the process leading to a one night stand; that way you would be romanced in a manner that made you both comfortable with me and the concept of sex with a relative stranger.” 

Duck chuckles, “Always wild to find out how human stuff gets interpreted by the rest of the galaxy. How’d you even come up with what you were gonna do?”

Indrid crosses his arms, mock affronted, “I will have you know I have seen a great deal of human media, courtesy of our minister of defense.”

“Oh yeah?” Duck shifts onto his stomach, sends a small splash Indrid’s way, “what was this night gonna involve, then?”

“Food, dim and therefore, apparently, romantic lighting, dancing to sensual music, and then hopefully some kissing.” The pink in his tail intensifies, “and then working out exactly how to have sex human.”

The mixture of enthusiasm and being utterly out of his element charms Duck to no end; not to mention it’s the most thought someone’s put into a hook-up with him in the last three years. 

“Seems to me you got the gist of it. Though I really wanna know what you picked out for ‘sensual music.’”

A playful glint enters Indrid’s glowing eyes, “I will show you, but we must go through the whole evening, otherwise it will seem like a disjointed choice. With, ah, with the understanding that you are not obligated to kiss me at the end.

“You got a deal.”

“Wonderful” Indrid claps his hands together, “wait right here.”

Indrid disappears in a whoosh of black and silver. When he returns, he hoists six opaque domes onto the floor in front of Duck, “I initially planned to eat in the sitting room, but you like this room much better, so we can have dinner here.” With that, he double-taps the top of each dome, revealing a confusing buffet. 

“Uh, are those french fries?”

“Yes. You are from the United States of America, and so I chose foods that would make you feel at home.” Indrid points to each plate in turn, “french fries, steak, a turkey with cranberries, lobster, macaroni with cheese, and an apple pie.”

The pie is covered with an odd, yellow meringue, the turkey is the size of a quail, and the black shell suggests this is not a kind of lobster he’s eaten before, but Duck can’t stop smiling.

“Also I took care to be sure none of the necessary substitutions were poisonous to you.”

“Thanks, Indrid.” He means it; in their travels they’ve learned it’s not only humans who think everyone lives and eats exactly the way they do.

Everything except the french fries tastes strange but he finds the meal, like it’s orchestrator, intriguing in it’s oddity. Indrid brings two cool, white bottles from below, offers Duck tastes of each. One is like the celery soda he drank on a dare, the other like root beer if it wasn’t gross. He keeps the second one next to him as the meal progresses, Indrid asking him all kinds of questions about botany and himself. When dinner is over, Indrid guides him two rooms over, grinning excitedly. 

“I will start the music; one moment.” 

A few seconds after he dives, a chrome cylinder descends from the ceiling and music fills the air.

Ninety-nine red balloons

Floating in the summer sky

Panic bells, it's red alert!

There's something here from somewhere else!

He giggles, sits down so it’s easier to call, “Indrid? Not sure you got the right song bud.”

A silver-haired head pops up, “Not romantic?”

“Nope.”

“Hmmmm” He lifts a small, white rectangle and the song changes. 

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

He's in the army now, a blowin' reveille

He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B

“N-not quite” The laugh is stronger now.

“Drat. How about….”

I threw a wish in the well, don't ask me, I'll never tell

I looked to you as it fell and now you're in my way 

Indrid looks hopefully at him.

“Ain’t what I’d call sensual, but you’d hear it at the kind of place you’d pick up a date.”

The alien beams, starts shifting back and forth to the beat, “shall we dance?”

Duck blushes, pretends he doesn’t know why, “Uh, probably should have said this earlier, but I ain’t much of a dancer.”

Indrid swims to him, stopping close enough that Duck can see the lines on his face that reveal they’re close in age, “That’s alright. Sometimes conversing while having a drink is acceptable behavior, correct?”

“Yeah.” Duck doesn’t bother to hide how intently he’s watching as Indrid dives, his form elegant and ethereal beneath the water. 

They sit sipping a hard cider that tastes of papaya and flowers instead of apples until the three other moons glow bright in the skylight. Duck yawns, and excuses himself for the night. 

“Thanks for a great evenin, Indrid.”

“You are most welcome. A pity I could not make the music work.”

He’s here for another three weeks at least. And Indrid is floating through the darkening water like a dream he’s tempted to chase.

“Guess you’ll just have to try again.” Duck winks. 

Indrid’s ears frill slightly and he flashes bright purple, “Yes, my dear husband, I suppose I will.” 

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

Duck’s routine is not the one he usually has while docked on a planet. Every day for the last week, he wakes up, joins Indrid for a leisurely swim, works on his research, and then spends his evening with a weirdly cute alien trying to accurately recreate the earth dating experience for him. 

The second night, he asked if Indrid would bring him some of his favorites for their next meal. The steamed coconut crab was a hit. The mantis-squid served still swimming, less so. From then on, when Indrid put in his food orders to the cooks at the main court, it was for a mixture of earth and Aquariad dishes, each one leading him or Indrid to share an anecdote from their time on their home planet. 

For the last two nights, he’s lifted the partitions on the pools in his room so Indrid can talk with him until neither of them can keep their eyes open. He wonders if it would be rude to ask him to stay, to sleep in such a small space just so he could be the first thing Duck sees when he wakes up.

There must be floating beds he could put in Indrid’s room, or maybe a hammock he could hang in the garden. 

Duck now understands that Indrid’s powers make him politically valuable, but also mean his fellow residents of the lunar city see him as dangerous, as knowing things they’d rather keep secret. Duck understands, especially if their only time encountering the seer is when he glides his formidable, dark body from the depths of his inner sanctum. But all he can see is his Indrid, awkward and well-meaning, whose fear of Duck disliking him has given way to genuine affection. His Indrid, who now pulls himself up onto the stones so they can sit shoulder to shoulder after breakfast or before dinner, whose tail Duck’s fingers beg to caress. 

His Indrid who is, at this moment, continuing his losing battle with earth music. 

“How about this?”

Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen

Thank you for all the joy and pain

“Oh fuck no” Duck guffaws, “anything but him, ‘Drid, he’s a boner killer if there ever was one.”

“I don’t think he’s that bad,  but I will be speaking to Vincent about his human music suggestions.”

“For the love of god, turn it off.” Duck flails for the remote.

Indrid sticks out his tongue, “Very well, but I am this close to pulling you down here and seeing if you can do any better.”

“You wouldn’t dare” Duck is still laughing, eyes closing as he does, which means he gets only a splash of warning before he’s yanked into the pool. He comes up giggling and spluttering, “now, is that any way to treat your husband?”

Indrid’s laugh is a siren song, “No, I suppose not.” The music clicks off as Indrid steadies him by curving his tail behind his legs, “how should I treat you instead?”

Duck drapes his arms over Indrid’s shoulders, “You been treatin me pretty damn well, dunkin me aside.”

A flicker of pink and yellow as Indrid rubs their cheeks together, “And if I wanted to be even better?”

“I, uh, I mean if you wanted to we could tryYYYYohfuck” he hunches forward as Indrid’s tail drags across his dick. The clothing on Aquaria is thin, so he can feel the cool scales tease his skin. 

“Oh, oh dear, apologies, I was only trying to embrace you further, I forgot yours do not stay concealed until they’re needed.”

“You, you keep doin that and it’s gonna be needed real quick.”

“Oh?” red eyes narrow wickedly, “does my sweet husband need attending to?” Another drag of his tail, much more deliberate, and Duck grinds his hips in reply. 

“Only if you want to.”

“I do, so very badly.” Indrid nuzzles his nose, “may I take a little while to acquaint myself with your wonderful body?”

“Uh huh.” Duck tugs his shirt off, throwing it onto the land and then giving his shorts the same treatment. 

“Ohhhhhhyes.” Indrid purrs, fins and tails shimmering purple and gold. Then he sinks down, swimming in a slow, tight circle around the human. Pleased chirps and trills bubble up to Duck’s ears. Cool fingers play along his legs and belly, eventually finding his dick and offering an experimental stroke.

“Fuck” he groans, and Indrid does it again, kissing his navel as both hands rub and tease his dick and folds. Indrid is clearly experimenting, maybe even using his visions to guide him, and Duck eagerness to get off succumbs to just how fucking hot it is to have a partner this enrapt by his body, to have them explore it like some awe-inspiring landscape. 

He spreads his hands out and runs them along Indrid’s torso and tail; the scales are just as wonderful under his fingers as he hoped, and he can feel Indrid sigh happily as he pets him. 

Then lips close around his dick and he makes a series of undignified noises, digging one hand into Indrid’s hair to encourage him. 

“Ohmyfuckinchrist, Indrid, yes, fuck please keep suckin like that.”

Indrid wiggles his whole body in response, happy trill underscored by a firmer suck. Duck can’t get enough of his body beneath his hands, of his mouth on Duck’s skin, and he wonders if someone can black out from how good a blowjob feels. 

Indrid’s fin breaks the water and Duck runs an appreciative thumb along the top. Funny, there’s a little depression between it and the membrane of the fin. Curious, he drags his pinky along it. 

The alien bursts upwards with a loud chirp of joy, “Ohgoodness, yes, oh that feels nice please do it again.”

“Yeah? My cute, needy husband need me to play with his fins to get off.”

“Not, not technically by my gods does he want you to.”

“Don’t worry darlin, I will--uh, ‘Drid? Is, is that your dick?”

Indrid follows his gaze to the thick, bumpy shaft emerging from his tail, it’s tip crowned with short, searching tendrils.

“Yes. Also an ovipositor, hence those lumps.”

“Holyfuck. Uh, I, I ain’t sure I’m ready for that yet.” 

“That’s perfectly alright. Though it does mean my cock is not going into you tonight; I’m not sure I can control my bodily responses enough to avoid ovipositing accidentally.”

“Lots of others things we can do.” Duck bites the tip of one ear, making the other flare out.

“Indeed. I say we start with this.” Indrid’s tail encircles his waist just as Indrid shoves his cock between his thighs.

“Like, like the way you think sugar. Fuuuck, fuck that’s good.” The bumps from the eggs have just the right amount of give as he humps them, Indrid matching his tempo with his thrusts. He keeps his arms around his husbands neck, kissing him furiously. Indrid kisses back with a chirp, gold flashing in his scales, and Duck knows he won’t want to kiss anyone else for a long, long time. 

The tip of Indrid’s cock bumps his ass and he groans at what that suggests about it’s size. 

“I’m, I’m takin this fuckin perfect thing all the way before I go.” He bucks his hips harder to make his point, “gonna let you fuck me open on it, fill me up, wanna know what it’s like to cum with you inside me.”

“Oh gods” Indrid whimpers, hiding his face in Ducks neck as he squeezes his thighs together. 

“And, and you’re gonna be a dutiful fuckin husband and fill me however I say, ain’t you?”

“Yes, yesofcourse, goodness Duck I, I’m-”

“Heh, you like that, mr high and mighty seer likes bein bossed around. Well, lucky you, because now that I know just how fuckin good you are at fuckin me, gonna have you doin it ever, fuckin, day.” He jerks his hips hard, three times, and Indric cums with a cry, cock pulsing as he sinks his teeth into Ducks shoulder. Duck doesn’t let up, chases his orgasm over the bumps and ridges until he nearly whites out with pleasure, clinging to Indrid tighter as his body gives up on supporting him. 

After his cock retracts Indrid, still holding Duck up with ease, swims to the button that orders a cleaning cycle on the pool and deposits the human back on the stone. 

“I dearly hope your team finds what you need on this planet so that I may see you beyond these few weeks.”

“Sex was that good?” Duck teases, petting Indrid’s hair as he lays his head in his lap.

“No. Or, well, yes, but more than that you are so, so very wonderful. I wish to get to know you more, to show you even more of my world and my skill in bed.”

Duck kisses the top of his head, “I hope so too.”

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

Communication log between leader of Amnesty Mission at Astrobotanist Duck Newton. 

Mama: Got some promising leads. Will be back to pick you up in three days. 

Duck: Glad to hear it. But take your time, no need to rush only my account. 

[firelord-frowny]

so like. i’ve mentioned the infuriatingly awful and traumatic experience i had with the World’s Worst Therapist a couple years ago. and it’s only as time goes on that i’m getting Over It enough to talk about the smaller details of what all happened. so here’s the thing i’m ready to Bitch About tonight. 

it didn’t take me long to figure out that this ~therapist~ was entirely uninterested in listening to me as a person, and was instead determined to shove me into a neat lil ADHD box, and without fail, ridiculed or dismissed EVERYTHING ABOUT ME as a ~symptom of my adhd.~ i don’t like going to parties? well clearly that’s Bad because the only reason i don’t want to go to parties is because i have adhd, which is a Bad Thing To Have, and if i DIDN’T have it, then i’d love going to parties! I get upset when my family refuses to honor reasonable requests like “can you turn the music down at 2am” or “can you give me a heads up before you bring over a houseguest so i can make sure i’m not caught in my pajamas” or “can i squeeze by so i can open the pantry”? well CLEARLY the only reason i can’t sleep at night with loud music on is because of my adhd. CLEEAAAAARLY only a fucking lunatic with adhd would feel startled and uncomfortable when they’re in the kitchen in their robe and slippers as a perfect stranger walks into the house. OBVIOUSLY a NORMAL person would instead just fucking stand and wait indefinitely for someone to finally decide to move away from the pantry before trying to access it, instead of politely asking them to make way like some kind of FUCKING ANIMAL. 

literally, EVERYTHING i said or expressed was met with some condescending rebuttal about how ~that’s what the adhd does in your brain~

like, bitch WHAT????? and LMFAO mind you, she’s not even the one who diagnosed me with adhd. my diagnosis came from a HELLA qualified doctor at a HELLA sophisticated facility after several hours of interviews AND comprehensive testing for learning disabilities and developmental disorders, and these tests/interveiws were carried out and interpreted by a TEAM of specialists.

but this lady had spoken to me for all of 90 seconds before becoming aware of my adhd, and that was the only 90 seconds during which she seemed to have any respect for my perspective and experience at all, bc literally the SECOND the word “adhd” got mentioned, all bets were off. 

And I struggled for a good while after this to try to get her to just LISTEN to what i was TELLING her instead of trying to connect every fucking thing to a diagnosis that she didn’t even have any reason to agree or disagree with yet.

But she wouldn’t. 

So I quit fucking talking to her! Quit looking in her direction. Angled my entire body away from her. Crossed one leg over the other. Arms folded in my lap. Tilted my head down so my hair obscured my face as i flat out fucking ignored everything she said to me or asked me. 

and then this fuckin idiot ass woman turns to my mom, who was also in the room, and goes, 

~see, this is just what People In Her Condition Do. When they can’t cope with something, they just shut down. She thinks that by not saying anything to me, we’re not communicating. but i understand her body language. she doesn’t even realize everything i can tell just by the way she’s hiding her face~ blah blah fucking blah. 

?????????????????? BITCH WHAT????

as if communicating via body language wasn’t THE ENTIRE POINT. as if i didn’t CHOOSE not to look her bitch ass in the eyes so she’d know i was fucking sick of her. as if i didn’t CHOOSE to fold my arms across my chest to make sure she understood that i was unwilling to open up to her any further. as if i didn’t push my chair away from the table in an obvious display of Distancing Myself From Your Bullshit. As if I’m some kind of fucking primitive annelid whose actions are determined exclusively by mindless chemical reactions with no conscious thought or purpose.

and then to be so fucking brazenly disrespectful as to say all that dumb shit to my mom?? right in front of me?? because clearly her tiny little pissbaby ego didn’t know how to react to having alienated her own client right in front of that client’s parent? lmfao bitch PLEASE!!! 

what i WANTED to say was “i’m not ~shutting down because i can’t cope.~ I’m choosing not to speak to you because you’re not smart enough to be my therapist.”

but instead i just stayed fucking quiet because i was exhausted of having to defend my right to be a full human being to yet ANOTHER person who was too fucking stuck in their own boring shit to have a CLUE how to interact with someone who was the slightest bit unfamiliar to them. 

[freewheelshippin]

Major insomnia and heartache in this chili’s tonight (this morning), so here we are with a quick little fic about two dum dums learning how to share heartache.(SFW, no major content warnings I can think of.) 

next day edits: well, now that it’s not ass o’clock, i went back in and tidied this up and added a fair amount more!!  (much more satisfying ending instead of something so abrupt, haha.) doesn’t add any further content warnings, tho! 

Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed her, he thought as she tensed and her demeanor changed entirely. 

“I want to know,” he continued, resolutely. 

“Everyone says that,” she spat. “And nobody actually does.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Ranmaru barked. “You heard me out when I told you about everything. Were you lying all those times you listened? Pretending to care just long enough I get over myself and shut up and move on?!” He knew, in his heart of hearts, of course she wasn’t, but the way she said it insulted him so badly he could practically taste the bitterness. 

She paused, looking to the side ruefully, shamefully. He had a feeling she’d struggle with eye contact this conversation, and he slouched his arms together, dropping back onto the couch with an irritated sigh, out of her line of sight. 

“....No. Absolutely not. Look, this … is different.” 

“How,” he growled. “You want to fucking talk about it. I tell you I’ll listen, it’s the least I owe you, and you say ‘no.’ You think I’m not gonna say ‘why’ after you shit all over my answer like that?” 

She took a longer time than usual to find words, so just a few empty seconds where he waited, frustrated and somewhat furious at the disconnect. 

“...You’re right that I shouldn’t have put it like that. That was shitty, and I’m sorry. But there’s...just...some kinds of life experiences that I’ve found nobody has any reason to learn to understand if it doesn’t happen to them. And...nobody’s prepared to deal with it -- meaningfully, anyways -- even secondhand.” 

“Are you just looking for excuses to run away from--” He nearly hesitated over the words, realizing what they were almost a second too late, but marching forward with them anyway. “--trusting me?” 

Another pause. “....I don’t know. I...can’t think of a time I’ve talked about it and….it hasn’t been taken from me.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” 

“It means....” She lingered long enough that Ranmaru worried, rousing himself a bit from staring blankly at the ceiling as he sprawled on the couch. She hadn’t moved from where she had been standing, but she looked at a far-off bare wall with nothing on it. “...that...the way people aren’t,” Another pause, as she searched for the word, “magically equipped with how to deal with it. It...turns me from a person into….anything else.” 

“Like what.”

“An after-school lesson. Entertainment. A new toy. A pet. A messiah to burn later, if I’m being really dramatic and cynical. I don’t know, it depends on what flavor of asshole feels like coming out, and it’s never anything good.” 

“Then tell them they’re being an asshole -- tell me I’m being an asshole -- and don’t quit until you get what you want out of them!” 

“Look!” She finally lost that last twinge of polite restraint, of saying things more nicely than Ranmaru thought was worth bothering with. “What if I didn’t know how to do that, ‘cause how could I?! And what if I don’t want to have to fight every fucking time? What if I just want to be important enough to get it right on to begin with?! And-- don’t give me that shit about being so strong, you’ll survive the mistakes, blah blah -- fuck that! I’m tired of it! I’m not a crash-test dummy! So fucking crucify me for not buckling in to crash myself into who fuckin’ knows what just ‘cuz you got it in your head this is how you’ll repay this stupid friend debt you think you’re in -- you’re not! Just---” she grunted exasperatedly, her uncharacteristic stillness disappearing as she felt less cornered. 

“I don’t care if you think I don’t owe you!” Ranmaru shot back. “I do! I want to even the score! If you did right by me, then I gotta do right by you! It’s how I do things, and I’m not about to just forget and let you keep diggin’ yourself into this hole--”  (this hole I know very well, Ranmaru thought) “-- where you get so hellbent on doin’ it on your own you cut down all your vision, ‘n your potential, ‘n all the ways you reach it, ‘cuz you keep having to re-invent the wheel just to take a step forward with all the shit you’re carrying!” 

“Will you stop trying to quantify this!?” 

“I’m not! I’m just tellin’ you what I think, and I’m right!” (I know I’m right because of y--) 

“Okay! Maybe you are! About the hole thing -- not the whole thing, the -- the fuckin pit, not the whole-- ah, fuck it, you know what I mean! But I still think this debt system you keep putting basic acts of friendship into is dumb as shit!” 

Ranmaru could already feel the point of this argument slipping away from them. “Are you gonna tell me what’s eating at you so bad or not?!” 

She froze again. “---I’m. ….No. I’m not. I...my heart’s not ready, if things....go badly again.” 

“Fine,” Ranmaru said, resolutely. He was hurt, in a small way, but he felt better that she was at least being truthful, and least acting out of her best interest, not some idiotic idea of useless martyrdom. H couldn’t fault her for protecting her heart. He, of all people, couldn’t possibly do that. 

“...then I’ll work to be someone worthy of the trust you deserve,” he murmured, somewhat less resolutely. 

The words just came out of him before he could think better of it, so Ranmaru hadn’t considered any reaction to expect. But stunned silence, then sniffling tears, that was probably the reaction he’d been least prepared to deal with. 

“Oi-- don’t---” Ranmaru leapt to his feet, like he were a startled prey animal. “Don’t cry!” 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she huffed through a miserable, contorted, crying face. “Come here, you stupid bastard!” She came towards him with arms outstretched, only just enough warning for Ranmaru to open his own and receive the gesture, an awkward stalwartness to him as he stiffly supported her while the tears ran their course. 

“I think it’s amazing how when you say shit like that,” she murmured, her arms tight around his chest. “I really do believe you mean it.” 

“....’cause I do,” Ranmaru grumbled, realizing his face burned just a little as she squeezed tighter, and he felt just a little colder when she let go. 

“...It’s not about you changing yourself, you know,” she continued, busying herself with cleaning up her tears and snot. “It’s not about you not being enough. You know that, right?” 

“...I don’t care if it is. I’d want to do it. I know you don’t expect people to be anyone but who they are. Whatever change I’d have to make was one I should be working on, anyway.” 

“Oh, god,” she sighed, stepping away to the nearest sink to wash her face, but there was a smile on her voice. “I really can’t underestimate how seriously you take everything.” 

“I told you. I’m always serious about what I do,” he muttered, a little sourly, as the faucet ran. 

“Charm point~!” she called from the bathroom in such a silly, mocking voice Ranmaru could hardly believe she’d been crying like she had just a bit ago. 

“Shut up! Stop saying weird shit like Reiji!” 

“Oh.” She came back with an ominous smile, a little at odds with her puffy eyes and smudged eyeliner. “Well, that’s how I know I really hit the nail on the head.” 

“What’s so charming about taking things seriously,” he bristled. “It’s just what people should do!” 

She laughed, so genuinely, so warmly, Ranmaru felt a twinge in his stomach. Maybe it was pride, maybe something else he didn’t want to unpack just yet. 

“C’mere,” she said again, despite going right to him, wrapping her arms around his waist tightly before leaning back, hoisting him higher until his toes dragged against the floor. Ranmaru let it happen, feeling his weight shift onto hers as she growled into the effort of getting him into the air, even with his extra height on her. He complained about these kinds of hugs, once, but had since grown so used to them, there was something about them he could admit to liking. 

“...Alright, alright. Put me down. Oi. Don’t swing me around, put me down!” The cats had gathered around, looking ready to pounce at his toes and pant legs as they waved through the air. 

“Is big baby scared of heights,” she said with that facetious tone that always got him. 

“Who said anything about that!? Put me down before the cats get on me -- like -- damn it, exactly like that!” One took a flying leap, batting at his legs until her claws her tangled into his pant leg. He could feel her grin into his shoulder as she obliged, slowly enough that the cats could get out of the way.

“It absolutely is what people should do,” she murmured, flopping back around him after he freed the the paw from its fabric prison (and his pants from any more catscratches). “You’ve just got the big stupid, stubborn heart to follow through with it. With literally everything you do.” 

“...Tch.” Ranmaru wrapped his arms around her then while he felt his cheeks, the tips of his ears prick with heat. “Of course you’d make it about heart. It’s not, it’s about the ways souls burn when you give ‘em the right passion and drive....” 

“Mmhmm,” she said, squeezing one last time before she released again. “Heart. It’s very rock of you.” She patted him on the back as she slipped out from his arms. “I’m gonna get myself a glass of water, you want one?”  

“...Oi. It’s not --” He sighed. “Whatever. Yeah, I’ll take one,” he replied, stretching back over the couch.

She disappeared, and ice and water clinked into glasses. Ranmaru, for a stolen moment, rested his right hand over his chest, quietly lingering at how open and warm it felt beneath all the skin, muscle, and bone. 

Even if she didn’t like the idea of it being a debt, Ranmaru swore to himself that he would’t let this sort of favor go unreturned. It was how he did things, after all. 

[lunchador]

I am trying to be normal levels of excited right now bc I had no idea you were so far in DA:O (i forget tumblr exists oops) so now I'm just!!! 8)))))) so thrilled you liked it I wanna know everything & I'm definitely gonna finish scrolling through what you already posted but!!! i wanna ask about your ending i Do Not See It anywhere and I'm curious wrt loghain & hazel (please tell me she survived 😭😭)

Bro, some shit happened.

While I’m pretty sure no one is like “Wow Raspa really had  spiraled down into DA, I’m now interested in playing”, spoilers I guess??

SO MANY CHOICES AT THE END OF THE GAME

SO

Let me tell you, I had a plan.

The second I learned of Alistair being bastard son of a King and had the potential to be the next one, I knew in my heart, we had to break up for PLOT reasons. I knew he’d be a genuine one, and while my characters backstory was she was eager to be in a position of leadership back when she was daughter of an Arl, she realized she liked being a soldier on the road helping people so she definitely would not want to be Queen, she’s never been elegant and did not want the attention.

So we get to the awkward moment I knew was coming. I convinced Anora to enter a political marriage with my boyfriend. Awkward. I talk Alistair into it, he breaks up with me. Ouch.

LOGHAIN. Man, I said FUCK THAT GUY. He ain’t my homie. I’ve grown very proud to be a grey warden and fuck him for trying to taint them. So, I beheaded him. In retrospect, pretty shitty for your future husband/kings current girlfriend to kill your dad after she just asked you to go into this political tie to keep your royal status idk. Maybe it would have been more just to make Loghain be someone who serves for the greater good after everything he pulled.

Riordan drops the bomb that a grey warden has to kill the Archdemon and that grey warden has to die. GREAT. I decide, He offers himself to do it after I state i will sacrifice myself and I go ok I guess he has a point he’s much older and doesn’t have much longer.

Morrigan puts her offer on the table. She needs Alistair to dump a creampie in her. Awkward cuz I didn’t work on her relationship enough (idk she hated me) so I’m like, ah, you want me to ask my boyfriend who you hate and who hates you to fuck you? I tell myself I can’t do it, not because I’m jealous and the only girl for him, but because I just bullied him into a marriage and now I’m gonna push him to have sex with a woman he despises on my behalf? Literally what the fuck from his perspective. My friends chewed me out for this, said I should have let Alistair “give her that soup can dick”. Alistair’s soupcan dick is now a reoccuring joke.

Riordan dies. Just fuckin dropped by the Archdemon. Did I fuck up or does that happen regardless?

So there goes plan A. And I’m thinking, fuck it, I had a good run. We are going to pull some Fallout 3 ending bullshit. I will die to save everyone

E X C E P T

Alistair, who JUST dumped me  mind you, tells me he’s not going to let me sacrifice myself, not while he has the opportunity to stop it, cuz the stupid bitch loves me.

SO

I watch in fucking horror as my video game boyfriend, the only person Hazel has ever had feelings for, leaps up and sacrifices himself, mostly on my behalf, because this fucker who wanted nothing more in his life was to have a family who loves him, and he said he wasn’t ready to be king, so instead he’s throwing it all away to protect the one person he’s loved.

So, true to me as a person and my usual experience in video games, I royally fucked up.

So yeah, Hazel survives. But, it sucks.

The canon ending I got: Alistair died on my behalf, Hazel continues on with the grey wardens with Zevran and Oghren on her side. The canon ending I wanted: Alistair Marries Anora and every meeting between future King Alistair and little ol’ Hazel are painful as hell full of yearning and full of what ifs til the end of their days. The ending I heavily considered: Alistair becoming king and Hazel being his consensual side piece. But Anora mentioned yet another husband who had other women behind her back and i felt guilty.

The ways I fucked up: Didn’t ‘harden’ Alistair, whatever the fuck that means. I should have recruited Loghain and used him as the sacrifice. Got Riordan killed? Again, not sure if that’s automatic or me. I guess I could have let Alistair do cummies inside Morrigan but GOD would he be fine knowing he has a bastard son whos a fucking hellspawn, literally?????? oh my god.

I am very pleased with the overall lore and writing of this game and how decisions genuinely feel like they’ve got weight. I do wish I took more time with the game (i didn’t get to do several companion quests and i wanna know more lore).

Also I didn’t save I guess?? At the end of the game? Idk, it only showed me my save from before the archdemon battle and wouldn’t let me load my Origins file onto 2. So HAHA BITCH, ALISTAIR LIVES. My friends are ripping on me to go with Alistair being dead because the fun of all 3 games is having your decisions cross over but FUCK THAT.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco X Fem!reader, Part 15.) - The Final Problem, Part 1.

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Inspired by the song I Mean It by G-Eazy and Remo.

Warnings: Really important character arc and development surrounding Fran.

Word count: 2 K

Read the rest here, babe:  PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5  PART 6  PART 7  PART 8  PART 9  PART 10  PART 11  PART 12  PART 13  PART 14

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers, @analia-analia-analia​

You know... I should tell you something. I feel like it's appropriate. It's time. I may have told you in the first place, but fuck me. I'm not perfect. Neither is anybody around me. Neither is you.

I'm you. I'm the part of your head which still believes in the better days. The one who keeps telling you to survive the end until the end, until the last ringing, until the last minute of your work time. I'm the part of you who tries to warn you about things that are coming and that will be bad for you.

But you know, baby. These things happen. I can't predict the future. Neither can you, neither can your sis or bro, neither can your mom. So when the rollercoaster goes downhill, I'm basically helpless and my hands are tied. We failed. And I can't save the situation. And trust me, it's the worst feeling on the planet, seeing you suffer.

But sometimes even I can't help you.

A knock on your window could be heard just five minutes after midnight. You weren't asleep at the time, only listening to some songs with a melancholic smile on your lips.

But that knock had wakened you up completely. It wasn't swift nor easy, so it wasn't Fezco or Rue. Instead of them, you found Fran there, not even able to stand on her own feet. You watched her and gulped, listening to the quiet house. She was drunk again. You closed her eyes and exhaled, opening the window slowly and helping her crawl into your room.

You listened to the house a bit in case you've wakened up your parents, but the house was totally quiet as Fran laid down on your bed. You watched her and prayed for her not to do any particular bullshit at that time. You loved her, you did, but you didn't like drunk Fran a bit.

She was like a random machine, she could do anything, she was feeling invincible like a Superman and you couldn't tell her otherwise.

You lived through many of her phases, either drunk or sober, drugged or almost clinically dead. You knew what your older sister was capable of when she was drunk as fuck. Maybe even high. Maybe both. You watched her in silence with a furrow on your face.

"Come 'ere, shithead." - She opened up her arms and invited you to cuddle with her. You did, but you could feel her intense stench. She smelled like vodka and cigarettes combined with some weed. - "Ugh, I love to cuddle yo, yo so soft." - Fran hummed into your hair and smiled. Parents never saw her shitfaced like that.

You were keeping her drunk ass out of trouble, keeping her low and quiet. That's what you needed to do that time as well.

"Fran, you're saying that because you're drunk." - You hugged her back and cuddled to her side.

"Also I heard somethin' funny, yo wouldn't believe." - She raised on her elbow, playing with your hair. If only you could tell what shit train just arrived at the station.

"Okay. Surprise me. What's that?" - You rose your eyebrows and let her hand caress your hair.

"I heard dat... Oh, dis is funny, sis. I heard dat there's a youn' girl smugglin' for Fez. Would ya believe?" - Fran smiled silently. Your eyes shut open and your face froze when you watched in visible confusion. Slowly, you sat up, furrowing at her. How could she know? How could she hear that? - "I heard dat the girl is somethin' like his drug princess or what."

Yeah, you did that just to try it and to help your boyfriend in something similar to an existential crisis, but that was all. You tried some drugs with Fezco, that was true as well, but you weren't a junkie. What the fuck? How could she find out? Did somebody saw you and Rue? Bullshit.

But who told her then?

In one way or another, you hated her gaze. She was looking at you like she was the better one. Like she knew better. Fucking Fran.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Fran. Lay down and sleep, you're drunk. I won't tell parents." - You stood up from the bed intending to throw up in your small bathroom. Your head felt dizzy as your pressure got higher. That was a fucking nightmare.

"I don't fuckin' care. You can tell 'em, but just take a look at yo own ass, sis." - She sat up and watched her down. You were gripping one of the cabinets so you could remain on your own feet. - "Fezco ain't any good news for yo, sis. Yo better get yo ass far away from him."

"Listen up. We've been here many times, Fran. It's just you and your godlike fucking complex again. Leave me the fuck out of it." - You pointed your finger at her. Yeah. Fran was talking you down on shit daily. She just did that.

She had the feeling that she has the upper moral hand over - since she fucked herself up, she tried you to be better than her. But you were sick of that. Fran just told you what you can do or can't do. And that was the moment when you just snapped.

Fran was a fucked-up person. And you knew that for a long time now. But you loved her even through that. At least you tried to love her.

Weed addiction? Her fault, not yours. Her alcohol addiction? Her fault, not yours. The feeling in her head that told you she needs to fuck her consciousness off the boundaries until she lies in her own vomit without even having an idea what's happening around her? Her need to take hardcore drugs? To be high on LSD or coke? Again, her fault - not hers.

Yeah, you weren't the saint either - you started to smoke weed with Fez from time to time, sometimes he brought you a little hallucinogenic surprise to take your fucking on a whole another level - but you didn't shove any of it into her fucking face or tried to tell her that she can't do it.

You would never do that. Those were your own little addictions, your own little failures which you learned from. Not hers.

Fran needed to learn where the boundaries laid. And you were just sick of her basically directing your life. You learned a lot of fucked-up through your relationship with Fez. You had a lot on your own mind. She didn't need to add up even more.

"I fucking have done that. I snuggled a package. And why the fuck should you care about any of that in the first place? It's been the worst thing I've ever done and I told Ash and Fez that I'm never ever doing that again." - You whisper-shouted at her, ready to scream at her at any given moment.

You didn't fucking care that you will wake your parents up. You didn't care that they'll see Fran in her current state and that they'll be extremely upset after her four months on rehab. Or that she would probably go there again. For a much longer time because she definitely had some drugs in her blood flow.

"Do you even know how much and how long I was arguing with Fez after that? We could barely talk to each other for three weeks after that." - You took your pillow and threw it on the ground. You needed to throw something around and you didn't want to make too much noise or worse, broke something.

"But guess fucking what. You're going to laugh now, okay?" - You came to her and looked her in the face. Fran sat there, her mouth open and she hadn't got any words for you. She just didn't know what the fuck should she tell you.

"I am not you, sis. I know where is the line between addiction and relaxation. I can stop myself after one try. I am not a fucking junkie like you are, Fran. I am not you." - Great. Now tears were streaming down your cheeks because Fran was crying too. Your words seriously hurt her like nothing else could. - "And because I'm not you, can you just stop pretending you understand everything way better than I can? Can you stop telling me what should I do and what shouldn't I? Because guess what, Fran. It's fucking annoying the living shit from me."

You didn't know what happened at all, your consciousness probably turned off when Fran pushes your body with all the strength she had and you fell down on the cabinet. With whining, you sat back up and felt as the hot blood streamed down from your temple. You started to cough as you sat up and it felt like you're really about to vomit.

Fran stood there with hands over her mouth, tears were streaming down her cheeks as she started to kneel down to nurse you. She was whispering apologies. She has done that. She fucking hurt her baby sister for telling her the truth she already knew.

But you pushed her off of you and then you both looked at the door. Your mom tried to come in, but your door was locked again - so she politely knocked on it. Fran froze down from fear and looked at you, begging you not to say anything. She knew what would happen after that - doctors, your parents being angry, four walls of the rehab center, therapeutics, group sessions, pills.

"Are you okay, honey? I heard a loud bang." - Your mom asked though the door as she yawned.

You should tell her what happened in that room that night. You should. But you loved Fran. And you didn't want her to be hurt so much.

"I'm... I'm fine. I just went to the bathroom and slipped on a t-shirt which I forgot to pick up. Sorry for waking you up, ma!" - You answered loudly and Fran started to cry even more, but still quietly, as you picked your ass up from the floor.

"I told you that you should clean up your room. Love you, goodnight." - She said with a smile in her voice and left your door as you started to put on your clothes. Some sweats and a sweatshirt should do, you told yourself.

"Love you, goodnight!" - You screamed back and put on the old Vans shoes from the time you thought that you're a big skateboard wizard and which you kept under the bed since you started to creep out from your window.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?" - Fran asked as she watched you opening the window leading into your garden. - “I tell ya that it’s freezin’ outside and it’s gonna get worse asshat.”

"I don't know yet. Maybe Rue's, maybe Jules's and maybe Fezco's. I'll see how I feel on the way." - You crawled into the window and let your feet hang from it. - "Stay in my bed until the morning. Then we'll talk. Shut up and they won't find you." - You gave her a piece of advice and left, taking your bike and riding into the downtown.

You already knew where you're going. You drove to that place without even thinking about the road in front of you. Your crying hasn't changed anything, you knew every hill, every bump and every tree alongside the road.

Of course, it was Fezco's place.

Only if you knew that there won’t be any morning in which you two could actually talk it through.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 011 [A Hero’s Style]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 2,490 ☁

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“It’s the very first breath, When your head’s been drowning underwater, And it’s the lightness in the air when you’re there.” Logic ft. Alessia Cara, “1-800-273-8255″〉

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The door to the nurse’s office slid open and the boy with the messy green hair stepped inside. He was cradling his right hand, the index finger swollen and badly bruised. I sat up on the bed, rising a brow at him. “The fuck happened to you?”

His gaze shot up, a blush covering his freckled cheeks and nose. “A-Ah, it was n-nothing, really!”

My eyes narrowed at him. “Pretty sure a broken finger ain’t ‘nothing’, but okay.”

“W-What about you?” he asked, softly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He refused to meet my gaze. “A-Are you okay, Winchester-san?”

The door slid open again and Granny stepped inside. “Can I help you, deary? What happened?”

He handed her a slip of paper, his green eyes trained on the ground. “I, umm… I got hurt…”

“Well, I can see that.” She brought his hand to her lips and gave it a smooch before having him sit down to wrap it up. He thanked her before swaying out of the room, tiredly. She glanced over at me. “Feeling better?”

“Define ‘better’,” I scoffed, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “I could go for some tacos, if that’s what you mean.”

“That’s the best I could hope for,” she smiled, patting my arm. “You’re free to go.”

I gave her a lazy salute before leaving the room. I stopped off to change back into my uniform before heading back to class. A couple students still lingered inside, turning to look at me when I slid the door open. Didn’t anyone ever teach these brats it’s rude to stare? I scowled, grabbing my bag from my desk before leaving the room.

“Young Jen!” A woosh of air rushed past me before Toshi appeared in front of me, his large hands on my shoulders. “I was looking for you!”

“Well, you found me. And you know where I live, so.”

“Come with me, please!”

It was a bit hard to avoid drawing attention to myself when I was being dragged along by the most attention-grabbing hero in the fucking world. He led me to a small room with a couch and coffee table, where three cups of steaming tea sat. Aizawa was sitting in an armchair with his eyes closed and arms crossed.

“Please have a seat,” Toshi held out his arm toward the couch and I plopped down on the end closest to Aizawa. He sat beside me, angling his large body, which slowly fizzled out to his skeletal form. He coughed a few times before speaking. “Will you tell me what happened today?”

“With the green-haired kid? Yeah, I was wondering about that, too. A broken finger is pretty crazy, huh?”

“Jen,” Aizawa shifted, giving me a pointed look.

I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t fucking know. One minute I was fine, the next I’m being subdued by Magic Eraser over here.”

Toshi put his hand on my knee, giving me a kind look. “You know you don’t have to keep secrets from us. You can be honest, you can trust us, we won’t judge you. We just want to help you.”

I clicked my tongue, lifting my leg to rest my ankle on my knee to remove his hand. “That’s pretty unfair, Toshi, when you have so many secrets of your own. Trust you? That’s rich considering you won’t even trust me.”

“What are you talking about, Young J -”

“You know a shit ton more about my dear old mum than you’re willing to tell, aye?” I forced a smile, standing up and shoving my hands in my pockets. “Probably about me, too. And this damned quirk. But that’s fine. I really don’t remember anything that happened so can I go now?”

The two of them exchanged a look.

“This isn’t over,” Aizawa responded, but his voice was softer than it had been earlier.

“Sure, sure.” I waved at them over my shoulder before closing the door behind me.

As I walked home, my phone started to buzz in my pocket as a new message came through. Another a few minutes later. And another. My eye twitched, already annoyed. I swear to god if Murder is spamming me again… but I knew it could only be him. I only have three contacts in my phone – Aizawa never texts me and I knew Toshi would be giving me some space for a while before trying to talk things out.

At that moment, I was overcome by a loneliness fiercer than I had ever felt before.

‘Oi, extra’

‘Dont ignore me’

‘I want a rematch’

The hell is this kid on about now? I replied, ‘U won last time bro…’

‘Its not a win unless i destroy u completely!’

I rubbed the back of my neck, ‘Im really not in the mood for this’

‘Che what crawled up ur ass and died?’

I hesitated, stopping to look up at the sky. The blue was replaced by hues of orange and red as the sun sunk low on the horizon. We’ve only talked a few times, but I felt… a bond with Murder and, right now, he’s the closest thing to a friend that I’ve got. ‘Hey… I wanna tell u somethin’

‘Oh god i dont want ur nudes’

This fuckin’ brat… ‘I said tell not show dumbass’

‘The fuckd u just call me bitch?!’

I slid my key into the lock, stepping into the silent apartment. I kicked my shoes off, pushing them against the wall so Toshi wouldn’t trip when he finally returned home. Falling onto the couch, another message came through.

‘Well r u gonna tell me or nah’

I smiled, sadly and began to tell him my story. I told him about how I got here and about the shadow man with his weird-ass warp quirk, about Gramps and how my mother was apparently a hero. I left out names and key details, of course, but I told him mostly everything that had happened over the past year. He would chime in with some smart ass remark every now and then, but I ignored them and continued to pour my heart out to this guy I had only just met a few days ago.

It felt so goddamn nice to get everything off my chest. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

That night, I slept better than I had since I arrived here.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

“I am… HERE!” The door to class 1-A slammed open and Toshi leaned into the room, standing on his tiptoes and holding the outside of the doorframe. “Coming through the door like a hero!”

If that’s how heroes make an entrance, count me out. It seemed to impress the other students, though, as a murmur of excitement filled the room. God, these kids are too easily amused.

“I can’t believe it’s really All Might!”

“So he is a teacher! This year is going to be totally awesome!”

“Hey look, is he wearing his silver age costume?”

“I’m getting goosebumps, it’s so retro!”

I fell onto my desk with a sigh. It’s like a bunch of little kids meeting Santa at the mall. I guess I could kind of understand it if he had powers but they didn’t, but they do. They’re no different from him, they’re just younger. I was thankful to be sitting behind Big Boobs – between her tall frame and gravity-defying hair, I was completely hidden from Toshi’s line of sight. We hadn’t talked since yesterday. I was asleep by the time he came home, and he was gone before I woke up.

“Welcome to the most important class at U.A. High – think of it was heroing 101!”

I don’t think ‘heroing’ is a word. Or is it? Scratching my cheek, I pulled out my phone, hiding it under my desk as I typed the word into the Goggle. Oh my god, the first result that comes up says the word ‘heroing’ means the opposite of being a hero! There’s also a mention of something about heroines. I scoff, earning a glare from the Peppermint that sits beside Big Boobs.

“Here, you will learn the basics of being a pro! And what it means to fight in the name of good. Let’s get into it! Today’s lesson, we’ll pull no punches!” He held out a card that said ‘battle’ in large, bold letters.

“Fight training!”

“But one of the keys of being a hero is~” Toshi pointed to the left wall as thin shelves emerged from it, holding numbered cases. “Looking good! There were designed for you based on your quirk registration forms and the request you sent in before school started. Get yourself suited up and then meet me at training ground beta!”

“Yes, sir!”

I waited until he left the room before standing up and grabbing case number twenty-one, following the throng of students as they rushed to the locker rooms to get changed. I went to the back of the room, hoping to avoid the other girls before sliding my shirt off.

“Woah, you have a tattoo? That’s so cool!”

I glanced over at the Punk Girl, earphone jacks hanging from her ear lobes. I grunted in response, turning my back to her. She muttered something about being rude before walking away from me. I glanced over my ‘costume’ before grunting in approval. Honestly, I had expected them to fuck it up, especially since Midnight didn’t approve of it, but I was surprised that they had kept it just as specified.

Black, steel-toe combat boots accompanying black baggy cargo pants with plenty of pockets for knives. A black belt with a silver skull buckle. A white wife beater, over which was a white overshirt, the sleeves stopping just past my elbows. I glanced in the mirror, putting my pendant under the tanktop before tucking the front of it behind the belt buckle. Damn, I really like this look.

I stepped out of the locker room ahead of most of the girls, seeing a few guys leaning against the wall outside, waiting. Fumi was among them, dressed in a black cloak that completely covered his body. He glanced at me when I approached, red eyes scanning my body.

“You look nice, Winchester-san.” He said, politely.

I chuckled. “You can use my first name, it’s easier. And you don’t look so bad yourself, Fumi.”

“Fumi?” he mused, following in step beside me as we headed down the hall.

“Don’t like it?” I asked, glancing at him.

“I don’t particularly mind,”

I hummed.

As the group reached the end of the long hallway, I could hear Toshi’s booming voice before I saw him.

“They say that clothes make the pros, young ladies and gentlemen. And behold – you are the proof! Take this to heart, from now on, you are all heroes in training!” His shadowed eyes scanned the crowd. “This is getting me all revved up! You look so cool! Now, shall we get started, you bunch of newbies?”

My eye twitched. Who the fuck is he callin’ a ‘newbie’? Didn’t that insult die like five years ago? We’ve talked about this, man, don’t try to be hip, you’re just gonna embarrass yourself, bro. I sighed, shaking my head. This is gonna be a long-ass day.

Footsteps came from the tunnel and I glanced over my shoulder. Is that… a green bunny? No, no, no, there’s something familiar about that costume, but what is it? Ugh, this is gonna bug me.

“Now that you’re ready, it’s time for combat training!”

“Sir!” Prep was encased in a suit of armor. “This is the fake city from our entrance exam. Does that mean we will be conducting urban battles again?”

“Not quite!” Toshi held up two fingers and at first, I thought he was flashing us the peace sign. “I’m going to move you two steps ahead! Most of the villain fights you see on the news take place outside. However, statistically speaking, run-ins with the most dastardly evil-doers take place indoors. Think about it! Backroom deals. Home invasions. Secret underground lairs. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise, you’ll be split into teams of good guys and bad guys, and fight two on two indoor battles!”

Good guys and bad guys? That’s such a gray area, ain’t it? I leaned my arm on Fumi’s shoulder, scratching my cheek. Is anyone truly ‘good’ or ‘bad’, really?

“Isn’t this a little advanced?” Frog-girl asked.

“The best training is what you get on the battlefield! But, remember, you can’t just punch a robot this time. You’re dealing with actual people now.”

Actual people, huh? Should I avoid using my quirk? If I lose control again, there’s no Aizawa around to stop me. Someone could get seriously hurt or… I shook my head. Come on, don’t think that way. Just take a deep breath, you got this.

“Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?” Probably.

“How much can we hurt the other team?” How villainous.

“Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled liked earlier?” No, ’cause Toshi ain’t Aizawa.

“Will you be splitting us up based on chance or comparative skill?” Should be obvious it’s gonna be random.

“Isn’t this cape pre chic?” What the fuck is wrong with you, French Fry?

I sweatdropped. These guys are really fucking nuts, aren’t they?

Toshi held his head back, his voice strangled. “I wasn’t finished talking…” He reached into his costume, which I didn’t know had pockets, and pulled out a small notebook about the size of his palm, flipping it open as he held each side with one hand. “Listen up!”

Oh my fucking god, he wrote a script for this? “This class is a hot fucking mess…”

“The situation is this: The villains have hidden a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to foil their plans. To do that, the good guys either have to catch the evildoers or recover the weapon. Likewise, the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes. Time is limited and we’ll choose teams by drawing lots!” He held up a bright, yellow box.

“Isn’t there a better way?” Prep asked.

“Think about it,” Green Bunny responded from beside him, holding up a gloved finger. “Pros often have to team up with heroes from other agencies on the spot. So maybe that’s the reason we’re seeing that here!”

“Yes, I see. Life is a random series of events… Excuse my rudeness!”

I should really learn these guy’s names, but how can I do that without actually having to interact with them? I wonder if Aizawa or Tosh would let me see the student files… that seems pretty doubtful. Plus, Tosh hasn’t looked at me once so he’s probably still upset with me.

“No sweat! Let’s draw!”

Yup, this is definitely going to be a long-ass fucking day.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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[kamidesai]

Discord thread featuring: Kam & @timmyteehill

Mentions: -

When: June 24th ‘20 before Tee and Kam were official

Where: Tee’s apartment

Triggers: -

Description: Kam comes over to cook for Tee

Kami

Kami did at least shower before deciding to take the bus into the northern part of town. It was always so interesting, watching the slummier parts of town turn into more grand, upscale buildings, and shops. There weren’t even any bus stops by the residential area, so once he was let off at the last stop, Kam dropped his skateboard, and took off towards Tee’s place. He was kinda sweaty when he finally got there, but he was wearing a black mesh tank with shirts, so he managed to shiver when the door opened, and he was hit with the AC. “Heyyy...” he muttered while pulling off his sunglasses. “Sorry it took me a while off the bus.”

Tee

Tee was secretly glad that his roommate/ex was still in France as otherwise it would have probably been a little awkward to explain Kami to him. He tried to clean up the place a little even though he knew the other probably wouldn’t even notice. He was quick to go open the door once there was a knock at his door. “That’s okay. You should have called though, I would have picked you up from the bus stop.” Tee usually used his car to get anywhere but he knew the bus stops in the residential area weren’t very frequent and he knew he should have known Kami would have a way to go to get to him.

Kami

“It’s cool.” Kami just shook his head, looking around as he entered the place, and gawked around him. Of course it was way nicer than his tiny ass apartment. He placed his skateboard right by the door, and then proceeded to take off his shoes to be polite and shit. He could have manners!! “Hey. Have you eaten? I can cook.” Kam had no idea what was even in Tee’s kitchen, but there had to be something he could throw together, right?

Tee

Tee had to bite back a smile at how polite Kami was being. He knew this place wasn’t really anything like the tiny place they used to share when he was still in college and determined not to use his parents’ money. Things were different now that he had his own business and income was more forthcoming. “No, I haven’t actually.” Tee wasn’t sure there was actually anything the other could use in his kitchen since he tended to live on precooked meals and takeaway but hopefully he would be able to find something to work with. “Um...I have pasta and...a can of sauce?” he said, trying not to feel too embarrassed. “Sorry, you know I’ve never been much of a cook. That hasn’t really changed.”June 29, 2020

Kami

Kam snorted when Tee said he had pasta and a can of sauce, because that just...poor guy. Thank god Kam loved to cook. He’d be so miserable if he had to live off canned sauce. “I can do something with it. Do you have any spices, herbs?” He asked while brushing past the man, not even waiting for his answer before he was snooping through his cabinets. “Wish you would have let me teach you how to fuckin’ cook.” He laughed, and found said lone pasta, and can of sauce.

Tee

So many people had tried to teach him to cook in his life and it just never stuck. His parents tried, when he was a kid, but the cooking “lessons” somehow always turned into an argument between him and his brother until they gave up. He and Monroe also talked about cooking lessons at some point, for him to learn how to make donuts but that also never happened. Tee was always so busy with work that he figured cooking was time wasted when he could just order takeaway. Although even he could admit it was pretty bad that he had no idea if he even had spices and herbs in the cabinet. “What can I say? Living off of take away and packaged meals isn’t that bad”, he shrugged. “Spares me a lot of time as well.”

Kami

“Ugh. That hurts my soul, Timothy. My. Soul.” He said dramatically, his hand on his chest as he looked the other male over. Kam shook his head, and then went back to what he was doing. He found a pot, and got the spaghetti noodles in generously salted water, and then began getting everything he needed to doctor up the sauce. “Let me get some home cooked food in you. You’ll realize the error of your ways!” It really was worth the effort to consume food you actually enjoy. It was simply a gift to yourself.

Tee

Tee rolled his eyes but he had to admit that it felt good to have someone cooking for him once and to have some company. He and Loren might share the apartment but they actually didn’t get to see each other very much, both busy with their own things. So this was nice. “Realising the error of my ways doesn’t mean I’ll magically be able to cook, you know”, he teased. “Maybe I’ll just have to start calling you to cook for me every time I get hungry.”June 30, 2020

Kami

Kami busted out a laugh when Tee made his statement about this not meaning he would magically be able to cook. That was funny, damn. “You got funnier over the years.” He teased the man, dumping the famous can of sauce into a pan he’d found in the cabinet while the noodles were on to boil. “No, you need to learn young Tee. We all have room to learn something new.” He informed him, feeling the need to give his own advice to the therapist for once.

Tee

“Are you saying I wasn’t funny before? Now that’s just hurtful”, he shook his head. Tee watched the other work his magic, trying to make some mental notes over what he was doing. It didn’t look too hard but Tee also wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up burning the kitchen if he even tried it himself. “Well, would you look at that. I got funnier over the years and you got wiser. Who would have thought?”

Kami

It was funny, how opposite he and Tee were from eachother, and yet sonehow they just seemed to...work. Kam loved the way they balanced eachother out, the chemistry was addicting. Not that he would say that outloud. He didn’t even pretend to be offended when Tee made his own joke, instead he just nodded with a laugh as he began getting some garlic, and onion powder into the sauce, along with oregano, and sea salt, before taking a taste. “You’re right. It’s mind blowing. Taste this.” He held the spoon out to his ex boyfriend, wanting his opinion on the matter.

Tee

Tee tasted the sauce being held out to him on the spoon and his eyes widened because that was just delicious. “Holy shit, that’s really good!” It was hard to believe that could be made with a can of sauce and some herbs. He couldn’t help but think that this was all so domestic. Cooking together (okay Tee was just observing but that’s besides the point), getting to compliment Kam on a dish well cooked...he really needed to remind himself that they were not the same as they were years ago before he ended up doing something stupid.

Kami

“Of course it is. And easy, too.” He reminded the other, giving him a wink while he finished up what he wanted to do with the sauce. It was thick, but on purpose, because he had a certain way he liked to bring everything together in the end. “Now, here’s a trick.” He held up one finger to the smaller. And then grabbed some tongs to grab the pasta from the boiling water, letting most of the water drip off before he was twisting it down into the sauce to cook together. “Little bit of that pasta water really brings the sauce together.”

Tee

Tee raised his eyebrows as he was promised a trick. In reality he knew that the chances of him actually cooking anything in the future for just himself were slim but he was at least going to try and learn something. It was sometimes embarrassing to say that he had a degree and a masters but couldn’t cook much more than a fried egg. And cereal. But did adding milk to cereal even count as cooking? Probably not. Tee watches as his ex combined the pasta with the sauce and it was true that the pasta water was making the sauce look better. Or at least, that’s what it looked like to his untrained eye.July 5, 2020

Kami

Kam turned to look at Tee once everything started cooking together, a small smirk on his lips as his eyes moved over the other’s features. Tee was so...beautiful. Those eyes...those lips. There were so many things that Kam enjoyed about the man’s face, the thoughts alone would take too long. He almost hated how strongly he felt about it, mostly because he just...sometimes he missed him is all. “Taking mental notes? Cause I expect you to recreate this from scratch.” He teased his ex, smirking in jest shortly after as he began plating their food.

Tee

“Are you sure you’re willing to risk food poisoning just so I can test this?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Considering he once almost managed to burn a pot of water, he couldn’t see how any attempts of cooking he made could be that successful. But if his ex was willing to try and risk it all, Tee wasn’t going to argue with him. He got out cutlery and tried to set the table to the best of his abilities, watching as Kam set their plates down. “Do I get to judge the food on a scale of one to ten or do I say it’s good no matter what it tastes like?” As if he hadn’t tried the sauce already and loved it.July 7, 2020

Kami

Kam laughed when Tee made his little joke about food poisoning, and again when his ex asked about the food rating system. “If you must judge, then I won’t stop you. If it’s anything less than a nine though, you’re wrong.” He informed Tee while pointing at him with his large slatted spoon before he was serving them each a plate. “Sit, eat. I’ll get the drinks. Do you have wine, mayhaps? A nice red is perfect with pasta, don’t you agree??”

Tee

"I guess I'll keep my judgement to myself if it's anything less than a nine", he shrugged, even though he knew it probably wouldn't be the case. If the food tasted as good as it smelled then he was in for a treat. "That sounds like a great idea. There should be some on the counter over there. Not sure if it's going to be up to your very high-class tastes but red wine is still...wine." That made no sense but whatever. Tee picked up his fork and took a bite of the pasta making a low moaning sound while chewing. "Yep, this is definitely not less than a nine."July 10, 2020

Kami

Kam wasn’t surprised when Tee seemed to enjoy the sauce, because despite there not being many things in life that Kam was confident about, cooking was one of them. It was a natural gift that he’d had from such a young age, and he could honestly do it with his eyes closed. “Glad you like it.” He glanced over at the wine in question soon after taking a few bites of his own food, and fixed them both a glass. “It’s hilarious that you think I have high class taste.” He snickered, walling back over to sit their wine in front of them on the table.July 11, 2020

Tee

Tee took the glass from Kam and had a quick sip of the wine. “Well, things change so can you blame me for worrying about your tastes changing too?” he shrugged. As he kept eating, he couldn’t help but want to bring up a subject that he worried might make the other uncomfortable but...they came up with a safe word just for that after all. “You should really consider...getting back to doing this professionally? Cooking, I mean.”

Kami

Kami was having such a good time honestly, even with their playful banter as normal. It didn’t bother Kam that Tee had such a sharp tongue, that he was constantly trying to get under his skin. It was a part of his personality, and one he usually had a particular version of for the people he liked. Of course though, he had to go into advice mode, now, as if it was really the right time. Kam didn’t want to talk about begging back into cooking, he wanted to eat, and then smoke a bowl. Apparently that was too much to ask. “I don’t have the experience to do what it takes to be a head chef somewhere decent. It would take years of sous cheffing, and kitchen cleaning. I hate that shit, and I’ve already gotten so far with my tattooing. I dunno. Maybe someday. It has always been my dream to go to culinary school. I’ve been saving for years.”

Tee

Tee wasn’t going to pressure him, after all he didn’t know much about the workings of becoming a chef and Kami clearly knew what he was talking about. It was just a pity to him because he knew how much the other enjoys cooking. But he was also a great tattoo artist. “You have gotten very far with tattooing. I remember it like it was yesterday when you were begging to do a tattoo for me until I caved in. Turned out pretty good”, he smiled, running a thumb over the little alien face above his elbow.July 12, 2020

Kami

Kam laughed when Tee commented about the tattoo he’d been given, Kami wrinkling his nose because he would never not be a perfectionist about that. It wasn’t bad for his first, but he could do so much better. “Yeah...I wish you’d let me cover that up with something better.” He mumbled before getting back into his pasta.July 17, 2020

Tee

Tee bent his arm to get a better look at the small tattoo on his elbow and looked up at Kami with furrowed eyebrows. "Why do you want me to cover it up? It looks really good, just what I had in mind when I talked to you about it. And besides, it reminds me of happy memories so I think I'm going to stick to my little alien face", he shrugged. "I was maybe thinking of getting another one though."July 18, 2020

Kami

Kam smirked when Tee refused to get the tattoo covered up, because even if he was iffy on it, it meant a lot that Tee still loved it so much, and don’t want to get rid of it. It was also adorable that they both had alien themed tattoos. Kami himself felt like an alien half the time, so. “What’re your thinkin’ of gettin’?” He asked the man before eating some pasta.July 20, 2020

Tee

Tee had gotten the tattoo a few months after his parents passed away. He'd been thinking of getting one for a while and with a boyfriend practising with tattoos, it made sense to let him do it. It was a time where his relationship with his brother was at its worse. He could never understand why his brother was so adamant on blaming him for his parents' accident and Tee was feeling low enough to believe him. The cruel words from someone who was supposed to be family never failed to hurt him and he was feeling more of an outsider than ever. Maybe that's where the idea to get an alien tattoo came from. He and his brother stopped talking shortly after he got his tattoo but it never lost its meaning. "So this is going to sound stupid but hear me out, okay? Since I have a tattoo under one elbow I was thinking of getting another tattoo under the other elbow. So they're sort of matching, you know what I mean?"July 26, 2020

Kami

Kami looked at Tee like he was weird when he said his idea sounded crazy, because he didn’t see how that sounded crazy at all. It was a good idea, and of course he didn’t mind a bit to do it. “I think that sounds like a great idea. Makes sense. A lot of people want to keep their tattoos with some sort of flow, or mirrored way of placement. We can definitely do that. It’d look sick.” He assured the other male with a smirk, and then he suddenly remembered what they were here for. “You done eating? I can’t roll us a joint.”

Tee

Chances were that Tee would have done it even if Kam said it wasn’t a good idea because once he got something in his head, it was difficult to get him to change his mind. It was still nice to get validation though. “Great! I’ll text you at some point so you can see when you have a free slot and I’ll come over to get it done. I just need to figure out what I’m going to get.” Tee took the last bite of pasta then pushed his plate away. “Yeah, I’m done. You do that while I clean up”, he said, already picking up the plates and cutlery and taking them to the sink.

[eldritchsurveys]

890.

5k Survey XVII

801. How often do you change your mood in a day? >> It depends. Sometimes I can actually stay pretty stable. Other times, more like a seesaw. Throw an emotional flashback or three into an otherwise-normal day and you’re in for a ride. 802. When you ask people how they are doing you actually care about their answer or is it just polite? >> If I, personally, ask how you’re doing, I literally am asking for the real answer. I rarely ever ask that, because that kind of “politeness” strikes me as particularly pointless and I generally don’t care how most people are doing anyway, so you know I mean it when I do ask. 803. Would you consider yourself to be very polite? >> No. I’m courteous in the sense that I say “please” and “thank you” to customer service people, and I hold doors for people directly behind me, and I say “excuse me” and shit like that. But I don’t make generic small talk, I don’t smile like a loon at randos (I’ll do a brief smile back if they smile first, but that’s the limit, and if I’m in a Mood it might end up looking more like a crazed grimace so be ready for that), and I’m not performative about looking “polite”. I’m just not interested. 804. Do you like movies and books that involve nuclear holocaust? >> Sure, I mean... the Fallout series of video games is one of my favourites, after all. 805. Have you ever had a lucid dream (a dream in which you knew you were dreaming and had complete control over what happened in the dream)? >> I’ve come close -- had the awareness but not necessarily full control.

806. Have you ever had a flying dream? >> Nope. 807. Have you ever had a lucid flying dream? >> Obviously not. 808. What’s the oddest law you ever heard of? >> I don’t remember. 809. What is the ultimate way to connect with another person? >> Good question. 810. Can you be intimate with someone without touching him or her? >> Of course. But different people prefer different intimacy styles. Maybe that kind of non-tactile intimacy wouldn’t feel the same for some people. 811. Can men and women ever really be ‘just friends’ with no interest in anything more? >> Shut up. 813. Are you addicted to this survey like drugs? >> No. It’s really just convenient at this point -- I don’t have to go through the whole process of finding a survey to take, because this one’s right here. If I happen to catch up to Elizabeth, I might have to wait a few days for her to post more sections, but other than that I’ve got my work cut out for me already. 814. If your significant other wanted to wait for marriage could you hold out or would you leave them (or would you cheat)? >> --- 815. What’s the longest sentence you can make using only words that start with the same letter as your first name? >> I don’t want to. 816. If you had a theme song what would it be? >> --- 817. Are you cranky? >> Not right now. 818. Which group generally annoys you more, people older than you, or people younger than you? >> There’s no rule with this. People can annoy me at any age. 819. Do you refer to older people as old farts? >> No. 820. Do you refer to younger people as the kids? >> Yeah. Nine times out of ten I’m not being condescending, I even call myself “kid” sometimes. 821. Which is better: Poems that everyone can relate to or poems that are intensely personal to the author? >> Both can exist. Sometimes the same poem can fit both criteria. An intensely personal experience can still be very relatable to a lot of people, and sometimes you find that out when you create art. 822. Is it worse to be too hot or too cold? >> I just don’t like being in extreme conditions of either kind. 823. Are you so flexible that you can put your feet behind your head? >> No. I’m very inflexible. 824. Would you enjoy reading fairy tales written about robots? >> Yes, very much. 825. Is smoking a turn on or gross? >> It’s neither. It’s just a thing people do. 826. What is the one way you wouldn’t want to die? >> Oh, you know. Most ways. 827. Which would look sillier on you: A cowboy hat or a Rasta hat? >> I don’t know. 828. Would you rather have a job doing something indoors or outdoors? >> Indoors. 829. Would you rather learn more about human nutrition or meteorology? >> Fuck, both of those subjects are interesting to me. 830. Have you ever taken honors courses? >> No. 831. What do you think of crop circles? >> They’re fuckin cool. 832. Where do they come from? >> I don’t know, and that’s part of what’s cool about them. 833. When was the last time you screwed up big time? >> I don’t remember. 834. You have a choice. What do you eat - A veggie burger, a turkey dog, or a cheese sandwich >> Veggie burger, absolutely. I eat those almost every day anyway. 835. Do you get a lot of random instant messages? >> No. 836. Do you have a paper journal also? >> No. 837. VHS or DVD? >> Streaming. (DVD if I must choose, but I really don’t care about owning physical copies of things, it just... doesn’t matter as much to me as I guess it matters to a lot of people. I tried to grok it and even adopt it as a practice but my brain just doesn’t work that way.) 838. Vinyl, cassette tape, or CD? >> Streaming. 839. Have you ever seen the video/heard the song Days Go By, performed by Dirty Vegas? >> I think so. It sounds familiar. 840. MTV: should it play more videos or more shows? >> At this point, I don’t even care anymore. The heyday has passed. Also, Catfish and Ridiculousness are fun shows, so fuck it. 841. Name a band: Dream Theater. Do fans of that band tend to share any characteristics with each other? >> I don’t know, I’m not going to stereotype progressive metal fans or anything, lol. I do have to admit that the first thing I thought of was the whole “girls don’t like Dream Theater thing” that Mike Portnoy said that one time, because when me and a girl I knew went to see them, we went for a bathroom break and the line for the women’s bathroom was literally nonexistent while the line for the men’s was a mile long. (That almost never happens anywhere else, lmao.) It was just funny at the time, I don’t actually think that’s a solid representation of listener demographics or anything. 842. What does the expression 'touch and go’ mean? It means being uncertain of a desired outcome. <-- I guess that’s what it means. 843. Caffeine or alcohol? >> Alcohol. I can sleep after drinking alcohol, and alcohol doesn’t make me anxious. Can’t say the same for caffeine. 844. Betty or Veronica? Archie or Reggie or Jughead? >> I was a preteen the last time I even held an Archie comic in my hands, I don’t remember anything about the characters. (And I don’t watch Riverdale either, lol.) 845. What book are you reading right now? >> Well, I was reading Wolves of the Calla but I haven’t picked it back up in at least a week. I’m struggling with wanting to continue this reread -- there’s some stuff I definitely want to reread (like the whole Castle Discordia bit and the part where Roland and Eddie go visit Stephen King), but I’m having a hard time remaining interested in the other shit. Also, I’m tired of Roland. I’m always tired of Roland, but, you know. 846. Is the news too depressing? >> Don’t ask me, I don’t watch that shit. 847. Would you rather have a stuffed lion, elephant, pig or duck? >> Lion! Oooh, I might get one, actually. To represent King Crimson. :B 848. Are you late for a very important date? >> No. 849. Ever use star 69? >> No. 850. Is everyone as smart as you? >> ---

[semicolonthefifth]

CROSS Ch4 - You Rascal You

A couple hours had passed since then. The music-player had been cycling through several songs and had eventually settled on “Run’ Em Off” by Lefty Frizzel - a moderately cheery Old Earth Western tune. Charlie recalled hearing Jason groan quite audibly when it played.

Charlie had never seen a man drink seven full, large glasses at a bar in one sitting - especially not without losing control of their higher brain functions.

Yet there he was - the man he’d come to know as Jason Cross. Gunslinger; bounty hunter; one of a two man team, part of a famed group that would take down raiders through skill and knowledge of the land. He was a man he only knew as a wondrous tale of wasteland justice; and there he was, chugging alcohol as if he was competing for the world’s biggest drunkard. Yet at his 8th glass in the man stood. At least that was something worth admiring.

Frankie, meanwhile, was all too busy admiring the book - his nose deep into the pages cataloging the history of Aurora. He gazed with sheer joy in detail of every photo, sometimes turning back a page just to re-admire it some more. He let Charlie and Jason be, all while he was content with catching up on the knowhow of the world.

Charlie coughed a bit before asking politely through some discomfort, “Um, Mr. Cross?”

Jason held a finger up, silencing Charlie while he finishes his latest order. After a few large gulps does he finish, letting out a long and heavy sigh. A quietness comes after, with Jason staring off into space. Charlie almost gets a word in before Jason then speaks up.

“Fuckin’ genetics, I swear to God.” He softly complains. “I should be dead now, or at least hammered. Why am I always drawing the worst luck?”

“Yeah… was about to ask about that.” Charlie wonders aloud with a worried tone. “How are you still talking, or in fact… standing?”

“Call it a curse.” Coldly replies Jason. “Let’s just say my body ain’t built like most others if my height ain’t a strong hint by now. Don’t want to get into it though… way too personal.”

“And what I just learned WASN’T personal already?”

Jason groaned more, head brought down with a thumb squeezing at his temple. His injured hand was deep into a plate of ice, half already melted at this point - all while his free hand tends to the headache. His brain was ringing a bit, but it wasn’t the alcohol that was running deep in his body. Repressed memories kept clawing out, and trying to bury them further was hurting his head more than it was worth. With a strong flavorful exhale, he picks his head back up and looks at Charlie.

“Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Y-... You serious?” Charlie asks, a bit concerned for his own safety as he was for Jason’s.

“More than I’m not.” Jason states, with hints of a tired slurring in his speech. “I’m half thinking of running out of here, but considering how shit my luck has been I don’t want to run the risk of something worse happening out there. So… ask away. Might as well ride this newfound awfulness till it ends.”

“Ok, ok…” Charlie collects himself, doing a couple of deep breaths before taking a professional, presentable angle to speak with Jason. “You are Jason Cross. Brother to Frederick Cross. Member of the Crimson Crosses, one of the most famous militia groups on the Black Road, here on on Aurora. Aaaaaand you’ve druken enough ale in one sitting to knock out a man.”

“Yup, unfortunately yes, absolutely no, and not even close.” Answers Jason with a tired look. “Fred and I haven’t been brothers for about… 5 years now. Not a word said to each other since, that I’m certain of. I’ve also not been a member of that damn group for the same amount of time - all entirely my choice. As for the drinking, I’m not close… not a little. I think I can handle some more.”

“But why?” Charlie asked, genuinely concerned - the wideness of his eyes like a boy hearing that his childhood hero was fake all along. “You two were fantastic. I’ve gotten so many stories collected about you guys. All the adventures you’ve taken, and the good you’ve done.”

He quickly snatches his collection book from Frankie, turning a large chunk of pages to a chapter highlighting the many achievements of the Crimson Crosses. There were stylized posters and photographs, all of them singing praise upon the Crosses and their exploits. Charlie began listing them off, all with a sense of innocent pride in his voice. “Here - this one’s about you guys facing off against a crook known as the Silver Stallion. And look here! ‘The Cross Brothers, and the Attack of the Screaming Mimmies!’, a widely-seen classic. Then there’s this one where you fended off a swarm of Kodvacs from ravaging some farms. You guys were heroes!”

Jason takes a glance at the photos, the memories coming back again. With it comes that tremble behind his eyes, a sharp pinch he tries to ignore before stating coldly, “Yeah, but that was long, long ago. Told you: Fred and I ain’t brothers no more. Those adventures don’t mean anything, not when things are so fucked right now. The Crimson Crosses weren’t meant to last with how they operated.”

“Why’s that?”

With a harsh cough, Jason continues. “All Frederick was concerned about was tradition, that’s it. He wanted to keep everything like it was in the old west days. How we lives; how we operated; how we even talked - if, again, you hadn’t noticed. Meanwhile, I wanted to have us improve and modernize; he thought I was ‘ruining things’, and said I had no respect. Eventually I said ‘fuck it’ and left. Left him and that group to rot.”

“That’s it?” Charlie asked softly, yet still curious. “Couldn’t talk it out?”

“Nope, and I don’t care anymore to ever return to it. I got my own thing, and he’s got his. Out here I’ve been handling myself fine these past years. Sure, there've been some… rough parts.” Jason pauses, out of the alcohol in his system or his own emotions is unclear. “Still, I can survive. Can’t say the same thing about the Crimson Crosses, but that don’t matter.”

“That’s unfortunate to hear…” Charlie said softly, looking rather devastated. Jason noticed, but he didn’t much care for it. Suddenly then, Charlie thought of something and proceeded to ask, “Well, it wouldn’t be so bad to talk to him again, right? Maybe catch up on some things? Make amends?”

“Oh to hell with that noise!” Jason shoots back. “I got better things to do.”

Frankie slides the book back to his reach, getting back into his reading as he chimes in with, “Yeah, Jason’s his own man now. Riding around, bounty hunting for the government. Last I heard he got a lead on some guy for a high price - Sid was it?” He shoots a toothy smile at Jason, exclaiming, “Ain’t that right, Jason?”

His smile suddenly weakens once he’s face to face with the sheer, utter misery emanating from Jason’s sour expression. Frankie moves away, chuckling nervously, “I uh… take it that the job didn’t go so nicely?”

Then, a THUD!

Jason’s head slumps onto the table - his face directed down, all the while he admits to his company, “Nothing’s been going nicely. Killed the bastard, but didn’t mean - then I just embarrass myself and get my fingers fucked over when I turn in the bounty. I didn’t even get a single cred for all that trouble. Seems like my luck has just about run out. Everywhere I turn to, everywhere I go… something goes wrong. Sometimes it feels like the universe is just making me out to be a joke. Sometimes… I just wish I weren’t me.”

“Now, come on Jason.” Frankie softly replies, lending a comforting hand upon Jason’s shoulder. “You ain’t unlucky. It's just some bad circumstances. You’ll pull through in no time, I’m sure of it.”

Jason tries to feel a little better, though by now it was a feat that felt harder to get over than any mountain along this cursed world. The reassurance does not last though, as a couple new guests come in through the back of the bar to join in for the night.

The two men were broad in shape, and both quite physically intimidating. One man was quite fat, with a big bushy, coal-black beard alongside a long length of hair from his pinkish head, and a slew of tattooed flames along his muscular arms. The other was far more fit and tall in appearance - white skinned and clean shaven, with dark blonde hair shortened to a buzz cut. His lower jaw jutted outward, often times showing a small row of yellowed teeth. Despite their differences, they dressed very similarly: black leather jackets; dark-red colored shirts with white horizontal stripes; brown, dirtied pants that tucked into their black boots. Each man had a knife prominently sheathed at their belts on one side, but the fatter one has a sawed-off shotgun in his hand.

Jason’s company immediately took notice of them, with Charlie quickly collecting his book back into the backpack while Frankie remains mostly still in his seat. Meanwhile, Jason was too mentally exhausted to even see them; he kept one hand one the ice and the other on the table, all the while groaning every now and then.

The Bartender also saw them - doing a table-take before moving himself away. As the two men slowly made their way to the trio, he observed carefully from where he stood.

Once the two men reached the others, the fit one of the pair looked over them with a brutish scowl - all the while his fatter friend circled over in a slow pace so as to flank the group. Frankie, nervous though smiling, tries being civil, “Hey there uh… friends. You needin’ something?”

Charlie wrapped his arms tight around his back, sticking extremely close to Frankie. The fit-bodied brute unclenches his jaw, cracking it as he adjusts it before speaking in a thick drawl, “Name’s Jessup, ‘friend’... and he’s Burk” He adds, nodding to his partner. “We here juss’ to be lookin’. No issue in’at, yeah? Juss’ a couple guys coming in for a drink is all.”

He leans close from where he stands, while his hands are kept to his side - very close to to his knife where it’s plainly seen. His mouth hangs crooked at times,with lips dipping down obnoxiously. Jessup continues, “Have been runnin’ down the road and back all nigh’ long. Going down the ways and makin’ our mark cross the dunes. We juss’ abou’ looking fer’ someone who’s causing us some problems up on ‘dere road. Wen’ in and murdered a friend of ours… and ‘den carried him off.”

A nervous chuckle escapes from Frankie’s lips, which he fails to contain as the goon Burk completes his slow round. The man gets closer to Jason, examining as best he could. Meanwhile Frankie insists, “Hadn’t seen anyone like that, sir. How do you even know your friend was killed anyhow? Maybe he ran off somewhere?”

Jessup doesn’t flinch or change his expression, instead adding, “Oh, we know he killed him. Supposed to come meet us back, and gave us some warning ‘case any problem were to come his way. ‘Course he never came back, so we checked on a bar he said he were goin’ for. ‘Course we found his body by ‘dere road - put away by his killer. Followed on over ‘tword’s dat bars he mentioned, and then soon enuff one of ‘dem squealed about who done it.”

He slowly rises back, cracking his neck and jaw as he towers over everyone. The knife by his belt tapped by his muscular hands, tense and ready. “Roughed up the owner pretty good - probably hurt his friends just as fierce, I reckon. ‘Ventually he gave a name and some general idea on where he gone on and fled. About put us through a good couple’a hours, but we got the run on the man. Man were described as a blonde, big fella - red bandanna ‘round his head, and got a vest ‘longside some goggles. Name were…. Jason Cross. That soundin’ familiar?”

Charlie was fiercely shaking in his seat, while Frankie had lost all the color and optimism in his face. The corners of Jessup’s lips curled up a bit upon seeing their reactions before he slowly turns his gaze right towards Jason. He asks with a soft intimidation, “Him, eh? Am I gettin’ right?”

Before either could answer, Jessup starts moving over. Frankie attempts to stop him by getting in front, but is quickly stopped when Jessup snatches his arms and slams the man against the table. Pinned, Frankie struggles as Jessup steals the man’s sidearm, keeping it away while his friend Burk makes his move. The Bartender can’t do anything to help, as Jessup aims the stolen gun right at the owner.

“Don’t be gettin’ any bright ideas, fella.” Jessup growls through gritted teeth. “We only wantin’ one dead man today, so don’t push us to make room for four. Keep yo’self out of our business if you know what’s good for ya’.”

All the while Burk holds up his shotgun, tapping Jason on the shoulder with a free hand while the gun was aimed. Jason stirs, looking lazily at the two as his mind starts to catch up on things. When he finally puts two and two together, he winces and groans, letting out a slow, tired, “Oh, damn it. It’s me, right? Of-fucking-course it’s me… it always got to be me.”

“Get up!” Shouts Burk, striking the butt of his shotgun at Jason’s back. Jason barely reacts, not even out of pain. His head is giving him all sorts of ringings and fog. It’s like an ongoing fireworks event is bouncing around in his head, and it ain’t letting up anytime soon. There’s enough awareness to get him to hold his hands up slowly, though he still groans in doing so.

“I’m coming, I’m coming… just give me a second ok?” Jason slurs in his remark. “My head’s a bit fuzzy.” He lightly shakes his head, not so much to push the intruders into making the problem any worse than it should. Afterwards, he suggests, “Mind we take this outside? I’d rather not die in a bar, personally speaking. I think that’s not gonna do me any favors for me after I’m dead.”

“No chance there, friend.” Jessup chimes in. “Boss wantin’ you dead. Right here, so nobody be goin’ and messin’ with us again.”

“Yeah!” Adds Burk, “So pipe down! Else, we make this a slow one.”

Jason blinked, his expression a mix of confusion, intoxication, and grumpiness. Some of it brought by the situation, part of it by the music. Just as his whole world was turning upside down; just when it seemed he was about to be done in at the worst possible way - the universe throws another wrench at the burning tractor that was Jason’s life.

Blaring from the radio like an insane bastard was about the worst song that could play at that moment: “Paraylized” by the Legendary Stardust Cowboy. It screeched with a mix of unintelligible lyrics screamed aloud, alongside a set of banging drums and cymbals. All that noise turned the fireworks in Jason’s head into a lineup of air horns playing simultaneously. It woke Jason’s sense quick, but at the cost of knowing that this song would be what followed him into the afterlife. If disappointment could kill, it would’ve done him away three times by now.

He held a finger up as he stared back between the music-player and the two goons. Then he begged, meaning it when he says, “Listen… if I’m dying, can I make one last request?”

Jessup pursed his lips, sighing gravely, “Yeah?”

“Please.” Jason pleaded aggressively, “Can I please change the song? I’ll die, alright, but it shouldn’t be to this. It can’t be to this. Anything but that piece of crap.”

All of them glanced towards the music player, to which even Jessup and his partner looked troubled at. Eye-twitching, it almost seemed heartless to make THAT the last thing for someone to hear before they die. After a moment he stepped aside, nodding to Burk to let Jason move ahead - though to keep his gun aimed still.

Slowly, on the death mark, Jason Cross makes his way to the player. He twitched and frowned at every incomprehensible shout from the singer, but prayed and gave thanks to the universe that - at the very least - he could change it before he died. For a moment he thought how easy it would be to run out through the hallway at this point, then out the back - but he knows that was his fear talking; were he to leave, it would only put his friends in danger in his stead. After a long, slow walk he made it to the music-player, studying it for a moment.

It was a neat little invention, inspired by the more modern techs made in the 21st century of the Old Earth. The player was a small rectangular box with a screen monitor that, when touched, would respond to the users action. It had a series of wires going into the walls, likely into the several speakers hidden throughout the saloon. The box was a brown color, to better match the area, but also dusted with age. The screen lit up past the dust, a sign that few ever come to change the music themselves. When Jason scrolled through the selection, he found it to be near infinite, thanks in part to the incredible storage this little box held. As he scrolled, he cycled through what music was available - as he couldn’t afford the time to be picky.

There were all sorts of songs, most of which had a country feel. There were variations of grunge, rock, and easy listening throughout the pre-selected library. Jason recognized some names: Eddie Arnold, the Larks, Dick Dale, along with some Van Morrison. He felt the clock ticking - he had to find something, anything.

If Jason Cross were to die today, he ought to die to something different.

He hovered his fingers to the monitor, closed his eyes, and picked a song at random.

Then, silence.

Nothing.

Soon, a screech - Jason’s ears perk and he cringes.

A guitar strums. The drums follow. There’s a beat that hits hard.

Jason’s eyes slowly open, and then his body eases. He turns away from the music player, and right there simply lets the music hit him. The lyrics come, sung by a dry voice that speaks of a rascal to be made dead. The song hits Jason in the way he needed, as if it woke him up - and pointed him on a path right back to those men.

For the first time in a long while, though he cannot say how, Jason felt good. A sensation crawls up his spine, and a light breathless chuckle erupts out softly.

The two men look confused, but Jessup is quick to shout in a pissed off tone, “Alright ‘den! Get on back ‘ere, Cross! It’s about time you died!”

Jason looks at them, and after a look around he slowly makes his way back. Being careful, he grabs something off the hallway wall and keeps it right close.

He moves further towards the two, stopping just right before them. Jason’s friends are unable to do much at this time, and the Bartender is just as stuck. His attention is immediately drawn to Jessup, whose lip twists into a grin - his bottom lip still sagging, enough to show his browned gums. Burk’s shotgun is aimed at the ready, and Jessup asks,

“Any final words?”

Jason doesn’t nod or shift for that moment, instead staring intensely right back at Jessup as he answers back, “Yeah…”

“...Draw.”

Quick as a flash! Jason flips his hands and produces a revolver, aimed right at Jessup’s throat. Both men were taken by surprise - the gun was too quick to register before it had already pinned close to his jugular. Jessup chokes a bit out of reflex, but he keeps his cool. He looks at Jason, right into his eyes - through the goggles he can see pure anger daggered right back with an odd greenish spark.

Rob is left surprised, holding the shotgun as he tries to get what had just happened. For a moment his eyes concentrate on the gun Jason’s holding.

“You be goin’ and making a big mistake.” Jessup scowls, spitting at his t’s and k’s.

Jason doesn’t give. He returns in kind, fierly. “I’ll be the fucking judge of that.”

Rob looks closer at the gun. He squints, and thinks aloud, “Is that a--”

SMASH! Shards of white porcelain and half-melted ice fall everywhere. Frankie is risen off his seat, holding a broken plate while all the other pieces are spread about or wedges into Burk’s head. The fat brute recoils in pain; the shotgun is lowered before it’s finally dropped.

Jason takes the opportunity, smacking the revolver upside the brutes head. Hard. Jessup falls to the side, also dropping the gun he’d stolen from Frankie before it slides far away.

Angry, Burk gets up and charges at Jason - he tackles him against the bar table and begins to lay down a series of heavy strikes against Jason’s face and body. Pinned down, Jason tries to fight back against the blows, by kicking against his fatter opponent. All the while the Bartender finally gets the chance to join in and tries to push Burk off Jason - as well, Frankie and Charlie try their best to smack at the man.

Not content with just punching, Burk ignored everything before pulling his knife from off his belt and goes for the stab.

The blade swings wildly, causing everybody around the two to step back to dodge. Burk’s hand raises high for the moment and he strikes down, landing a deep stab into the table - near Jason’s neck.

Jason keeps moving, but the man pulls and goes again for the kill - close enough to nick him on the cheek.

After a couple more swings, and a hefty shove to push everyone away, Burk slams the knife down. A hard scream is heard! Blood shoots up as the knife pierces Jason’s left shoulder!

It twists, and suddenly Jason’s adrenaline hikes up enough for him to launch the man away with a fierce kick - pushing him off and onto the floor.

Jason gets up, breathing harshly as his pained growls start to sound like a pained beast. He doesn’t have time to register the knife stuck on him, but instead his attention is immediately directed at the goon that put it there. Through the tinted goggles, all Jason could see was red.

Before Burk could even move an inch or utter a word, he’s quickly overcome by Jason - who starts to beat him with the gun he picked off the wall. Fierce blow after blow is unleashed upon the man, fueled by pure, unadulterated anger.

The others are frozen in terror. Jason goes mad with his beatings. With Burk on his ass and against the wall, there was nowhere to turn to to escape Jason’s pummeling. He’s beaten down by the gun; slammed in the face by Jason’s knee; his head kicked in by a downward stomp. In between the pain he could only catch a glimpse of how bull mad Jason was, and nothing more. Even when Jason loses his grip of the gun through the blood, he still keeps at it with his fist.

Blood splatters, against walls, tables, and chairs. The bar echoes with violent thuds and hectic breathing. Frankie, Charlie, and the Bartender watch Jason beat the man down - too shocked to get in the way. It’s hard, at this point, to even recognize the intruder’s face… or to know if he was even still alive at this point.

Meanwhile, as Jason keeps hitting, Jessup recovers and wakes from his blow. He spits some blood and a couple teeth onto the floor, before noticing the bloodied revolver that Jason struck him with - on the floor and within his reach. Struggling, he makes the grab and picks it up before aiming it right at Jason.

Jason finally notices, as does everyone else who all stare down at the grinning Jessup. Breathing hotly, and with his arms exhausted and blood-stained, Jason doesn’t do much, nor does he react strongly. All he does is look down at the injured brute aiming the gun.

Jessup lets out a pained laugh, with blood dripping off his lip. “All ya’ll are so dead. Every las’ fucking one of ya! Ain’t gonna be a soul alive once Boss Lars is done with you.”

He cackles and bleeds before pulling the trigger!

Nothing.

Not even a click.

His expression instantly sours into utter shock as he then turns the revolver - it is a replica. A fake.

Then he hears something getting picked off the floor. Looking up, he sees Jason holding Rob’s shotgun with one hand - aimed right at Jessup’s face.

Jason glares down at him, then, with barely restrained rage, states, 

“I’d like to see you try.”

Click.

BANG! Ca-click, BANG!

The bar is showered by a large mist of blood. From where Jessup’s head once was, there is now only a mess of gore splattered all over the floor. Two walls are covered in blood and brain matter, and much of the bar table is colored in similar red. Trickles of it hit everyone, but not as much as it hits Jason.

Frankie, after a long pause of shock, lays against the table as he pants and wipes the blood off his face. He tries to look for his gun, but mentally puts that off for later.

Charlie stares on like a deer in headlights. He stands completely straight, as he looks on. Frightened, shocked… amazed, though he doesn’t say.

The Bartender is the least emotional or reactionary of them all. He takes a deep breath before slowly making his way to the back closet at the end of the bar.

Then there was Jason, standing there. A shotgun in one hand, and a knife wedged deep into his shoulder. He stands tough, breathing heavily as he finally has time to register all the wounds inflicted upon his face and body. It hurts, and it’s going to hurt even more.

As if on auto-pilot, Jason starts walking out of the saloon’s front door and doesn’t say a word. His friends take notice and start moving after him.

Right outside, the people of Blondie gather around the bar. They’ve since been woken up from the commotion in the saloon, and everyone from the craftsman, the traders, the local priest, the carers and the watchmen come to see what had happened. Even the Mayor has come out, dressed in his nightly finest, as he stands front and center along his people - men and women, young and elderly alike.

They had just come once the gunfire caught their attention, and were debating amongst themselves on who would be first to enter before they see Jason exit out from the building. They stand, shocked in seeing the bloodied Jason Cross walk out from the saloon - sporting a shotgun in one hand, and a knife jutting out his shoulder. Then, coming right after him was Frankie and Charlie, who both start to stare with uncertainty in what to do now. Frankie’s first instinct is to calm everyone, but he isn’t able to get a word in… not before Jason.

Crazed thoughts run through Jason’s mind alongside a constant ringing - a ringing that felt like it never left him, and he can’t remember a time where it wasn’t following alongside him to begin with. The pain is too strong, it’s catching up to his brain now. The drinking has finally come to the station, and it’s not kind to let the pain have its way on his senses. There’s nothing but noise, and through it Jason can only think sparse thoughts.

‘Can’t say my name.’

‘All I get is trouble.’

‘All my name brings is trouble.’

‘Have to say something.’

‘Have to say something now.’

‘Sometimes… I just wish I weren’t me.’

Jason drops the shotgun, and with that he then holds both his arms up as best he could. Then, with a crooked grin, he announces aloud, “People of Blondie. My name… is Frederick Cross… and I just saved the day.”

The crowd murmurs, and some look outright shocked. Shocked… and excited. The Mayor looks outright pleased.

Jason grins some more and chuckles, all before proceeding to fall backwards onto the unforgiving ground.

The last thing he sees before blacking out are the crowd of people coming to his body. As well, the concerned looks on both Frankie and Charlie’s faces.

The people of Blondie never stopped talking that night: of the man who saved their town from a couple of gun-toting hooligans, and the very name he bore.

Frederick Cross.

[boogiewrites]

A Girl Walks Into A Bar 6

Characters: Declan Harp x Bella Fiore (OFC)

Word Count: 6400+

Summary: Modern Declan harp AU.   Bella finds herself warming up to Declan. A friend of a friend lets her know Declan has some skeletons in his closet. When she asks, he gives an honest answer. He can see in her eyes that she has some skeletons too.

Warnings/Tags: Language. Drinking. Talk of violence, murder. 

Click on my screen name then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

As it had been going, it was the day of your weekly meet up at the bar with Declan. It'd become a welcome part of your routine and a much-needed stress reliever. The men that were usually at the bar were used to you now, being on a first name basis. They weren't exactly warm to you, they didn't invite you over to talk with them or anything, not that you wanted that, but they would give you affirmative nods when you'd enter and that was a nice feeling. Always better to have the bikers on your side than against you.

This day was much like the first that had brought you to the bar in the first place. You'd been mansplained to for the day by boys half your age about guitar. You weren't as angry as you were tired, but at least you had your truck back to comfort you instead of being stuck on foot. So you rumble up in your old Ford, parking at the end of the sidewalk after all the motorcycles took the good spots in front of the bar.  You take a deep breath and rub between your eyes, not wanting to go in with a bad mood looming as you wanted to enjoy the time you spent at the bar. You had the tendency to come in with a chip on your shoulder from work on Fridays, and you didn't want Declan to think that you were only capable of being grumpy and nothing else. Although historically, and if you asked anyone who knew you, friendly would not be at the top of the list of descriptors for you.

It's April now, over three months since you'd become a regular at The Trading Post. The cold and wind were still holding up strong, especially after the sun went down. You feel the wind bite at you as you pull your leather jacket tight around you, your company logo sweatshirt not providing much insulation. Your boots crunch over gravel and coarse salt, hand shoved into your pockets as you make your way into the warm shelter the bar offers.

The heat flushes your face as you walk in, the bar moving with bodies as it was on a Friday night. Mike passes you, a friendly smile a strong nod that you politely return, starting to peel your jacket off. You begin to move to your corner of the bar that you like to perch at, but find it taken. You twitch your lips in consideration for where to sit, as you don't want to sit between two men you don't know anything about except their nicknames. You choose a booth and even though he's currently focusing on filling pint glasses, Declan sees you walking past to a different seat than usual.

"Mike!" he calls out, watching you slide into the green patched leather benched seat.

"I know! Got it!" Mike says, finishing wiping down a table as he quickly moves to behind the bar. He knew Declan had been waiting for you to show up like he always did. He hadn't given him any shit for it yet, at least nothing more than a few insinuating glances, but if he left him alone once the bar got crowded, he would have a  lot more to say to him once you left.

Declan pats his back as a thank you, as he carries himself with a confident saunter towards you, your favorite ale in hand. "Hey, Bella." he says with an earnest smile, the words spoken almost in an exhale that made you warm on sight. You rise from the booth, and as is customary now, you let him hug you.

"Hey Declan." you try to sound more enthusiastic about his appearance but words come out as a grumble against the soft flannel of his shirt. He didn't usually wear a lot of layers, but he had a worn t-shirt underneath flannel shirt tonight and you'd be lying to yourself if you said the added bulk wasn't serving him plenty of favors in the attractiveness department.

"What's wrong babe?" he questions, a sight rub to your back as he sets the bottle in front of you and you both slide into opposite benches. "Work again?" he suggests, putting the bottle cap to your ale into his pocket to throw away later.

"Yeah." you groan and roll your eyes. "Stupid kids half my age tryin' to tell me I don't know what I'm talkin' about." you take a big swig of your drink.

"About music?" he scoffs with raised brows, making the arches even more prominent over the dark hazel eyes.

"Mmm Hmm." you nod, sucking your teeth and looking around the bar, with more people filing in.

"Are they fuckin' stupid?" he says with a laugh. "No one I know knows more about music than you."

"Thank you." you give him a supportive nod. "The little asshole knows three chords and think's he's gonna be the next Cobain when he can't write lyrics for shit. It was popular in the '90s because it was new. It was the beginning of a movement. It's not as groundbreaking to write angst over some banged out chords nowadays. Everyone one of these little pricks think they're so fucking talented." you shake your head.

"Ah. White teenage boy?" he chuckles.

"They're the worst." your groan turns into a chuckle. "The only upset they have in their lives is their mothers buying them the wrong color iPhone for Christmas and they think they know pain." you rub your temple. "He literally had the words, I hate my parents, I hate myself, I hate you... like...what am I supposed to do with that? Tell him it's any good?"

"Is that what your boss told you to do?"

"Nah, CeeCee is understanding. She's the brain and I'm the heart. So if I don't feel anything from it, it won't be any good." you shake your head and take another drink. "She trusts my judgment." your face softens a bit and he's glad to learn more about where you work, you never really talked about your coworkers.

"That's more than most people get." he says supportively.

"Oh yeah, no, I'm lucky she understands me and my lunacy." you smile. "But privileged little boys do NOT, however." you purse your lips. "I told him I could lie to him, but I wouldn't because he was paying for my expertise. He didn't want constructive criticism though."

"Most people don't." he grins. "Can't handle it. Takes a secure person to realize they might not be right all the time. And those are few and far between." he muses.

"Amen." you say, reaching out to clink your bottles together. You take a drink and you take a second to look him over, admiring the lumberjack vibe he was giving off. You must've looked a little too long.

"What?" he asks with a grin.

"Could I give you some constructive criticism?" you throw a cocky nod his way.

"Will it make me cry?" he pouts.

"I don't think so." you grin.

"Then hit me." he says, thwacking his hand on the table.

"I fully support this... lumberjack vibe you got goin' on." you say, moving your hand in front of you.

"OH!" he says with a genuine smile. "Thanks." he lets out an almost bashful chuckle.

"Any reason you've strayed from your usual humbled rockstar look?" you tease.

"We had a bunch of orders come in today, spent most of the day with the back doors open and loading and unloading trucks from the street. Get's cold." he says, tugging on the black beanie on his head.

"I like it. Works for you." you give him a considerate nod. You are aware you'd just given him a compliment, and by the way his lips tug back, the tension in his jaw as he holds back from it growing farther across his bearded face, you can see he certainly noticed.

"Thanks." he says proudly, letting a smile break through, showing his teeth. He knows a blush is growing, not expecting a compliment from you and thinks of a way to hide it. He pulls the beanie off, throwing it onto the table and ruffles his naturally loose curled hair, hanging past his shoulders. You get hit with the smell of him and your pupils dilate. You were defenseless against pheromones. Or whatever delicious, masculine smell was coming off him. A faint musk, whether from him or cologne you weren't certain. Faint smell of woods or ocean, maybe shampoo. He scratches his head and scrunches his face, letting his scalp breathe again. "What about you? Sweatshirts aren't something I've seen you in before. And with a heart on it? That's not on brand at all." he lets out a deep teasing chuckle.

"Oh but it is!" you say condescendingly. "This is the name of our company." you say looking down and holding out the logo for your and Grace's studio. A logo with a cartoon heart and an italicized word 'sounds' after it in bold text.

"I didn't know it was your company." he says impressed, he thought you only worked at the studio. "Me and CeeCee went in half and half on it when we first started. I was working at a music store, squirreling away every bit I could, playing bars on weekends and teaching guitar lessons, just trying to get by. CeeCee, at the time, was married to a rather well off guy and we met by fate one night when I was playing at his office's new years party. We oddly hit it off, which is rare for me." you roll your eyes and smile. "And a year or so later we started this company, bought the building and the equipment, all that. We're legit." you nod and say with a proud smile.

He looks you over for a moment, the pleased smile, the new knowledge he had about what made you, you, it all gave way to a feeling of being proud of you himself. It explained the long hours worked, the clear passion and intelligence about what you worked in, the skill you'd honed in your instrument of choice. It was clear you were very driven and had been for some time, the realization makes him like you more. In his experience, things that were worked hard for had felt more worth it in the end and with how he was slowly chipping away at you he was hoping the initial hardness and hesitancy you had shown to letting him in would also fall away and in the end be worth it. He saw a lot of potential in you, for a lot of different things. An honest and loyal friend, someone to help him with his business, as you were running a successful one and he could always learn from you. And the one that he didn't want to admit yet, but was becoming more and more obvious to him, he saw the potential for you to be more than just friends. But he didn't want to get ahead of himself.

"I thought it'd be another band I've never heard of." he shrugs. "But the truth is much more interesting." he says earnestly.

"It usually is." you grin. "You wanna know another truth?" you ask leaning in closer.

"Duh." he laughs.

"I'm only wearing this because it's laundry day." you laugh and admit, taking another drink.

"Ah! The most dreaded of all days. Free ballin', shirt you don't really wanna wear and jeans that have gone one too many days without being washed." he muses and you laugh.

"You get it!" you let out a more animated laugh. "Although there isn't much free ballin' happenin' on this side of the table." you snort. "Due to the lack of... well... balls." you say in a goofy way with a motion of your hands in explanation.

"Yeah, what's it called when girls do it?" he narrows his eyes in thought.

"That's just commando right?" you wrinkle your nose as you think.

"Ah, yeah." he nods. "I forget that's the unisex term for it."

"I call it free ballin' too." you chuckle. "To be fair." you shrug and take another drink. "Just... sounds more crude and funny."

"Which seems like your kind of thing."

"Most definitely." you laugh.

He sees you looking over his shoulder. "What?" he asks, turning around.

"Lots of people in here tonight."

"Yeah, it's Jon's birthday," he says, turning back. "There'll be more people in the closer it gets to nine." he explains.

"Do I know Jon?" you ask with a tilted head.

"You referred to him as a second rate hype man that couldn't shut the fuck up." he laughs.

"Yeah I remember that guy." you nod and take a drink. "I guess that means a good business night though." you say optimistically.

"Yeah." he drags the word out. He was grateful for the bump but, it meant he wouldn't be spending his time sitting and talking to you and he didn't see you as often as he'd like already. But he also didn't want to ask to hang out and make it weird. With someone like you he had to let you come to him. "It is getting busy..." he says in a distracted way. "I guess I need to go help Mike." he says, sucking his teeth and downing the rest of the bottle.

"Yeah, go ahead. Don't need my permission." you smile and wave him towards the bar.

"You gonna stick around?" he asks, you can hear the hopeful lilt to it, how could you say no.

"And miss these guys make asses of themselves? No way. 'Course I'm stayin'." you give him a friendly smile to take the edge off his disheartened eyes.

"Might need you around to help me keep these guys in line." he smirks.

"At your service." you nod supportively. "Maybe we can try to hang out before next Friday? Since there won't be much hangin' goin' on tonight?" you offer, testing his reaction to see if he was hesitant to leave your company and in his long exhale you see your guess is correct.

"Yeah, on a night when it's slow." he nods.

"Let's make it through tonight and when it thins out and you can come talk to me again, we'll figure it out." you say casually with a shrug, leaning back and taking another drink.

"You always have good plans, Bells." he grins and shoots a finger gun your way before heading back to the bar. You see Mike give him grief, and you're guessing by the way they both laugh and shove each other it might've been about you.

You're left looking over the carvings in the table top. All crudely done with pocketknives and surely the vandalism was motivated by alcohol. Dates go back to the '80s, you run your fingers over the letters and names, Dina + Ronnie 4 Ever '88, Shirley + Lenny '94. You wonder where they're at now, and how hanging out at a bar had worked out for them. It seemed to be working out pretty well so far for you. You weren't entirely sure just yet. Neither of you were making any moves to have the relationship push past friendship, and you were forever grateful for that on his behalf. For now, a good friend was what you needed, and he certainly seemed to fit the bill. You knew you should make more of an effort to hang out with him outside of his work but he did work a lot, and also the hours when you traditionally would be off of work. You were sort of working with what you were given.

You watch him working, his flannel now unbuttoned, hat shoved in his back pocket with his soft hair bouncing around his shoulders. He engages with every person, being warm and friendly and you wonder how he does it. His tall form leans over the bartop for hugs and cheek kisses, to both men and women and you find yourself charmed. It was hard not to be, the man looked like he could crush you but his demeanor was like that of a puppy's, and who didn't love puppies? You wonder when cheek kisses might be introduced into the repertoire of your greetings. He'd worked hugs in pretty seamlessly, you have to give it to the guy. If the girls at work saw you hug a guy they'd assume you were married. You weren't the hugging type. But it seemed you'd made an exception for Declan, hadn't you?

He was turning out to be an exception to the rule for men for you as well. Polite, humble, hardworking and still somehow also extremely good looking. You weren't sure how that all managed to fall in place, but you figure you should bake his mother some cannoli or something for the work she must've put in to raise such a man. Maybe that's what it was? He was a man. He wasn't a boy. He was a giant dork and goof ass sure, but he was responsible and kind, intelligent and industrious and you wondered if he was the first man, besides your father, you'd spent any real time with.

All the boys you'd dated before were just that...boys. Your first relationship, a hellish shit show of a Greek tragedy that'd turned out to be. You still had the physical and emotional scarring and trauma to prove it, A few casual encounters of off and on dates that never lead anywhere, not that you'd wanted them to. One night stands more often when you were younger, but it'd been a long time since you'd had the urge for that. You'd deleted tinder ages ago and work had replaced any time you'd spent putting effort into finding sex. There had been one guy you thought was nice, but in hindsight maybe that was because he just did everything you told him to. You suppose it doesn't really matter, that one was nipped in the bud fast too. You finish the rest of your bottle, brow furrowing in thought at how it ended, and if it'd happen again if you tried. You decide you don't want to think about that tonight and go get another bottle. Declan opens it with his hand by raising his shirt up and twisting it off for you, a not too suggestive wink to you as he hands it off and he's beckoned by people much louder than you to the other end of the bar.

You take your seat back, watching the crowd, eavesdropping and staring into a mirror that reflected a dark room in the back, you still hadn't found out what was back there and just as you feel the pull to explore, someone sits in the booth across from you. Much to your surprise, it's a girl you haven't seen before. Thin body and lips, blonde hair and a strong jaw sit with a seemingly friendly indifference.

"You mind if I sit here?" she asks, taking off her jacket. "Everywhere else is full or too full 'a drunks." she says with a smile.

"Uh, yeah that's fine." you say with a shrug, your face straight, you go back to nursing your drink.

"Thanks. Bella, is it?" she asks, holding out her hand.

You did like a woman who shook hands, but you weren't sure how she knew your name.

"Heard Declan call ya it when you went up to the bar." she explains, watching the realization come across your face as you blink slowly and nod.

"Oh, okay. I was about to say..." you let out a huff of a laugh for politeness's sake and raise your brows to show your uneasiness and to push back any unwanted pursuit of friendship.

"I'm Clenna," she says with a nod, taking out a pack of cigarettes. "I'm a friend of a friend of Mike's," she explains further. "Here for Jon's birthday." she lights it and thankfully blows it away from your face.

"I'm just here to drink." you say flatly, raising attention to your bottle. "I don't know Jon or anything." you elaborate.

"Oh, you not here for Declan then?" she asks, a furrow in her brow that you aren't sure if you like or not.

"Excuse you?" you ask with only a hint of unfriendliness.

"I saw him with ya earlier." she motions to him with her hand. "With that sorta attention I thought you two might be seein' each other."

You stare at her. What you were was none of her business. She takes a drag and picks up on your unwillingness to share, your confident look of question at her telling her you weren't like the other girls that she'd seen after Declan. They were too open, bubbly even, and usually much, much more drunk. "No." you answer flatly, taking another drink.

"I mean ya no harm," she says leaning in closer. "I just thought it was a good thing you were with him now... ya know... instead of years ago. Seein' as he seems like a different man now 'n all." she says in a more serious tone.

"I'm not with him. We're just friends."

"Well good on that then." she nods. "What with his history 'n that." she says, looking over to him.

You sigh, seeing she's trying to rope you into something. And granted, you knew very little about Declan's past and you could just ask him about whatever she told you later. "Alright. I'll bite." you say with pursed lips.

"If you were thinkin' about bein' with him in any capacity, as one woman to another, there are some things I'd want to know if I were you." she begins. "He is a decent man now, rather peaceful for the sort of place he runs, but he wasn't always ya know."

"Go on." you say, leaning in closer to her on the table.

"I've lived 'round here forever, hell, I even dated Mike for years when's we's young." she shrugs and huffs out a laugh. "And I've heard of the things he's done, seen what consequences people faced from crossin' him. Although if you'd asked him, he did everything in the name of justice, only givin' it to people what deserved it. But to some violence is violence, no matter tha motive." she nods. "He was the man you went to when you had trouble with someone." she lowers her voice. "Known for his ability to find people, his fondness for knives..." she adds with a raise of her brows. "It's even rumored 'round here he's behind the death of a cop."

"I knew he was a part of the Black Wolves." you say, gesturing to the room full of vests with patches that reflected that sentiment.

"Aye. He did leave that. And he got out because of murderin' that man so I'm told." she takes another drag. "The Wolves ain't so much murderers 'n rapists 'n all that nonsense. They love their bikes and their beer and to have their fun and not be bothered. Rather loud and rough, seemingly trouble to anyone who don't know 'em. But anyone who gives themselves a name, calls themselves a gang, there's gonna be rivals and those others might not be as civil as they are, ya know?" she shrugs. "So there's police sniffin' 'round sometimes, lookin' for men to blame. There have been murders, I won't pretend like there's not been... but you know men." she rolls her eyes. "Territorial and that." she nods. "A person can only take so much before they'll retaliate ya know?" she says in a less mysterious tone.

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask with a deeper tone.

"Like I said, I saw him give ya a wink and leave his post to talk to ya, I thought there might be somethin' going's on. I don't know ya, so I know ya ain't from 'round here, so I was tryin' to let you know what sorta trouble might be lurkin' 'round if ya were to stay with this sort of company. If I were someone who didn't know, I'd want to know. That's all."

"Are you some vengeful ex or something?" you flatly ask.

"Oh no." she chuckles and shakes her head. "Only dated Mike, and we's teens then. Water under the bridge now. But I knew Declan then, and I know of him now, and as much as he's cleaned up his act there's always a threat 'a violence around this sort. I know Declan likes to act like he forgets his past, that's he's beyond it now, but... you don't live that hard for that long and just one day leave it behind forever." she sighs. "As one woman to another I dinnae wantin' ya gettin' in over ya head."

"Okay." you nod and take a drink. "If that's true then... thanks." you say with a suspicious glance.

"What the fuck's she doin'?" Mike mumbles, looking over at Clenna talking to you. He knew you didn't know each other, and from the look on your face, the conversation seemed to something you were paying attention to, and something was rubbing him the wrong way. "Fair warnin'." Mike says as the bar starts to thin out. "Clenna was talkin' to Bella earlier."

"Yeah I saw." he mutters, wiping a glass.

"We was busy, didn't catch wind of the topic but..." he shrugs, lips tight.

"Yeah, I get it." Declan says low, looking over to you as you scrolled through your phone alone.

Every time he'd look up and see a guy sitting across from you, he'd get a tingle in his spine that had to right to be there. A knee jerk habit of possessiveness that kept coming back. When they'd end up leaving, or you would, it eased his mind. You'd sit there, sometimes not even looking up from your phone, others he could feel the air from your heavy sighs as they tried to talk to you. As the night went on, and they got more drunk, you became more obvious with your rejections.

You'd get in on a game of pool with a group of older, less wasted men. He could've watched you bend over that pool table all night and he knew he wasn't the only one. But after losing a few games, feeling defeated and not as self-assured, he could tell by their poor postures that they weren't going to be a threat. But as they thinned, the younger, drunker ones caught eyes of you and your ass in those tight jeans and descended. He only worried a little, knowing you could probably handle yourself and was thankful that proved true. His ears perked up the one time he hears your voice raise but watching the interaction go down, he trusts you to handle it. The last thing he wanted was to piss you off by treating you like some damsel. He didn't catch what the guy did but you had him against a wall with the pool cue pressed against his neck and he quickly surrendered, moving to sulk somewhere else. No one really wanted to play with you after that and seeing that you actually knew what you were doing, beating them after they kept offering to show you the ropes. Seems your stories of hanging out and playing in bars were true. He wondered if you also knew how to play darts.

Only a handful of people remain, and you've settled back into a booth, and your thumbs moved fast on the screen, wearing a rather adorable unfiltered face of concentration.

"We survived." he says, plopping down in the booth across from you and startling you out of your focus.

"Ah." you saw, looking around and seeing the bar much emptier than the last time you'd looked. "So we did." you nod and give him a soft smile.

"Can I be nosey and ask what you're doing?" he leans in and asks.

"Playing trivia." you say with a small smile and setting your phone down.

"Any good?" he inquires with a lifted brow.

"I am." you nod and lean forward on the table. "But I think I'd rather ask you some questions if that's alright."

You face isn't angry, your voice isn't accusatory so he agrees. "Okay?" he says with a shrug.

"Who's Clenna?" you decide to start with. Seeing what truth there was to their relationship would be a good starting point for who was telling the truth.

"Right," he nods, pursing his lips. "Mike said he saw you talking to her." his tone doesn't sound too happy about the fact.

"Yeah she was telling me some things." you reply slowly, considering the tiredness now showing in his face.

"And you'd like to know if what she told you was true." he remarks with a sigh, setting up straight and popping his back before leaning in on his elbows.

"I would." you agree without any b/d attitude.  "So who is she?" you ask again.

"Mike's ex. She's around from time to time, occasions like tonight, birthdays and stuff." he answers with a shrug.

"Not yours?" you specify.

"Nah." he quickly answers with a shake of his head.

"Funny. She only talked about you."

"She's been known to sort've...feel girls out before that we're seeing." he begins. "Not that I'm seeing you I just...I guess she saw us together?" he asks.

"That's what she said."

"Kay." he nods. "So what'd she say?"

"That you had a past that I might want to know about." you stay vague.

"Yeah..." he rubs the back of his neck. "I thought that might be it." he sighs and looks away.

"Any truth to that?"

"I don't know what she told you but...yeah, there is." he admits and you nod slowly, happy with how this was going.

"Alright." your voice inflects upwards and his eyes dart to you, expecting to be met with something other than curiousness. "So violence, you were known to "take care of people" I guess is how she put it. Can we start there?"

"Yeah." he draws out again, leaning in closer. "I mean, I've mentioned I ran with a bad crowd. I lacked  a father figure growin' up, he wasn't around much and then he got killed." he says with a sadness slowly glazing over his eyes. "So I had a lot of anger and my mom was working her ass off, as a single mom ya know how that goes." he purses his lips. "Got in with a bad crowd. I was big and angry and I beat people up. Got older, got into the gang, more people wanted to mess with me and I had a chip on my shoulder and something to prove. So I did. Often." he nods and shrugs. "Lots of guys I knew, a lot I still do went to jail or got killed so...I felt responsible for these people ya know? The kids and the girls left behind, they didn't have anyone lookin' out for them so there was a lot of standing up for them I took on. Beating up abusive boyfriends mainly, that sort of gig." he explains. "I'll be honest. That still happens sometimes. I try not to interfere but...I really care about these people and a lot of them grew up to make better decisions but sometimes there are still assholes that'll see a single mom and still try to take advantage and if I've promised the guys on the inside I'd look out for them then-" he begins to speak faster, you feel it turning into excuses instead of information.

"Declan." you interrupt and he looks back to your eyes, his large and sad. More of the look that lead to making you refer to him as a puppy. "It's okay," you say quietly, reaching out to put your hand over his. His eyes dart down to it for a few seconds, eyes blinking fast to possibly push back tears that were building with his anger. "I get it," you say with a half smile. "Point of this wasn't to make you upset. I didn't want you getting sad or angry about it." you say with kind eyes that take him entirely off guard. "I just have one more thing I gotta ask." you say with a wince.

"Yeah?" he rasps out.

"There was something about...killing a cop?" you say quietly.

"Yeah." he nods and sniffles as you retreat your hand. "Yeah I..." he lets out a loud sigh. "It's a whole complicated story but...I know you don't want a bunch of grief so...yeah I did." he whispers the last part, face prepared for an onslaught against him.

"Okay. How are you not in jail?" you ask obviously.

"Everyone that knew him wanted him dead. He was a total bastard. Just a real piece of shit." his posture slumps. "Picked on women and children and my friends. Framed a bunch of guys I knew that are still servin' time for things they didn't do. He came after me and those close to me." you see his eyes go far away for a moment before coming back. "There was only one witness, and they wouldn't talk. They wanted them dead just as much as me." You assume this must be Mike. "And everyone else just...didn't talk when the cops came around. There wasn't anything to point to me, I had an alibi, no witnesses, no evidence..." he gestures broadly with his hands, saying it disappeared.

He watches you blink slowly, thinking and wondering if being honest would backfire. But if he'd lied, you would've found out and you'd be gone anyway. So as much as he hated taking the chance, honesty was the best policy and he hoped you saw that.

"But after that I got out of that life. Or I mean...I tried. That sorta life doesn't just disappear overnight." his voice drops low. "I try to have this place, keep the boys out of trouble as much as I can. I don't take jobs anymore, last I beat anyone up was months ago, before I met you..." he looks over to you with cautious optimism. "And that was because this guy had beat one of my friends in front of her kid... I just... I couldn't..." he shakes his head.

"I get it," you say again, a soft smile and a nod. Once again you surprise him. "Everyone's got baggage Declan. Some's just heavier than others." you say with a frown. "And I believe you. I see you being a decent and gentle man and I've seen flashes of the old you sometimes. I know violence and trauma aren't things that just...go away." you say with a huff of a laugh from experience and it warms him. "You don't have to worry about me holding it against you." you let him know and you see his eyes soften. "Your heart's always been in the right place. And that means more than what you did. In my opinion. If you say the guy had it coming then, as far as I'm concerned, he did." you say with a lighter tone.

"You're really just gonna go and be more understanding than I deserve on top of everything else huh?" he smiles sheepishly, rubbing his arm and sitting back.

"LIke I said... I get it." you say with another subtle but soft smile. But he can see it in your eyes, you did get it, you had something similar that rested behind yours as he did his. Perhaps not the same sort of pain but, there was pain there. And that would've explained a whole hell of a lot about you.

"You do get it don't you? I mean...you've been through some stuff haven't you Bells?" he asks quietly, reaching out and putting his hand over yours and the kind gesture makes you want to jerk back because the look in his eyes was so understanding and lacking any judgment.

You tuck your hair behind your ear and nod slowly. "Yeah. I come with baggage too, Declan." you admit. "But I'd rather not talk about it... as hypocritical as that makes me at this moment." you raise your brows and sigh.

"No! No, of course not." he shakes his head and starts to rise, taking your hand and tugging at you.

"What?" you ask with almost scared eyes as your guard was left down.

"We need a hug, c'mere." he tugs at you.

"Are you fuckin' serious?" you let out a chuckle.

"Sure as fuck am, get in here." he says patting his chest. He sees your eyes moves around the bar bashfully. "No one's here to see, Mike won't tell anyone." he offers with a smile.

"Fine." you say, letting him pull you up and into his arms. He was right. You did need a hug. You make full contact as he puts some squeeze into it. You rest your cheek on his chest, put your arms around his waist and he rubs your back for a moment.

"I"m not here to push you Bella. I'm just here. Okay? You know about me now, you've seen me. And as much as you try to hide it, I see there's much of the same thing in your eyes as mine. So I'm... I'm just... I'm here if you need me, alright?" he squeezes you tighter for a moment and you couldn't remember the last time you'd had an embrace with someone like this. Besides family, besides Charlotte, never. "I know you hate this sappy shit but its real so... deal with it." he chuckles to lighten to mood, seeing you smile against his chest.

"I do. But... thanks." you say quietly, slightly muffled from your cheek being pushed against him. You could hear his heart, feel his breathing as he felt your take a big inhale and slow exhale, knowing he'd gotten his point across.

"Thank you for being so fuckin' cool about it. Didn't want to scare you off." he admits, speaking down at you.

"I"m not the runnin' kind." you shake your head, still embraced and you don't want to run from it. It felt too good. "Declan?" you ask, shutting your eyes and his heart thumps as he sees you sigh out again.

"Yeah?" he asks, a super soft smile on his face, big hands still rubbing your back.

"You give really good hugs." you laugh and then burying your face in his chest as you bounce with his laughter.

"I do! Thank you for noticing! I'm great at it. Fuckin'... king of hugs over here." he laughs into your hair.

"Don't get cocky." you say through the laughter, but in all fairness, he had every right to be.

@vale0413 @littledeadgirlwalking @jaegeeeeer

[crashdevlin]

Something More- Part Eight

Author’s Note: *THERE IS NO WIFE-HATE HERE! I <3 Danneel Ackles. (it’s completely understandable how she acts)* This is a sequel to Open. READ THAT FIRST!  Something More Masterlist

Summary: Reader is a no-name actor who has been lucky enough to land a role on her favorite show and a part in an anthology of Marvel Cinematic Shorts. Her star is on the rise, but the man who’s made her his mistress isn’t the only one noticing it.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Story Warnings: Open Marriage, mistress, breakups, angst, anger, jealousy, things get REALLY bad between Jensen and y/n…

Chapter Warnings:  breakups, domestic violence (Tom is worse than an asshole in this, A REMINDER THAT THIS IS FICTION!!!! I KNOW THAT TOM IS NOT REALLY LIKE THIS AND I WISH HIM NO HARM), 18+ HERE BE SEX, DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!! fingering, oral (fem rec), unprotected vaginal sex

I kept waiting for my notifications to go crazy with an announcement that Tom and I were through, but it didn't happen. He was so apt to tell the world he had me, but he wouldn't tell them he'd chased me off.

I learned why on Friday. He thought he still had me.

“Hey, y/n, your boyfriend's at the gate.” One of the set assistants approached me while I was watching at the sidelines as Jensen dropped to the floor for the tenth time, the coma spell taking over Dean.

“What?”

“Tom Hiddleston is at the gate. Where do you want to meet with him?”

I bit my lip, looked at the stage, where Jensen was getting ready for another other take and started to speed walk away, the assistant following me. “Tell them I'll meet him outside makeup.”

When he walked up, I was full of anger and fear. Breaking up with him was scary enough when there was an ocean between us. The way he had snapped at me, the way he had spoken, how he'd tried to manipulate me… it was bound to be worse in person.

Tom had trimmed his beard and done his hair with sweeping curls. He was wearing that grey suit with the shiny lapels. Step one of the manipulation: Look like a dream to make me forget he’s a nightmare waiting to happen.

I tried to ignore how fucking gorgeous he looked, launching myself into the argument, and it had to be an argument, not a discussion or a conversation, because he would win any polite discourse. “Tom, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in London.”

He stopped in front of me, tall and intimidating and gorgeous, and he ran his eyes down my body and smiled. “I had to see you. I cancelled my weekend shows, told them I had a family emergency.”

“Getting dumped isn’t an emergency, and I’m not your family.” I spat.

His smile faltered. “A broken heart is an emergency. My girlfriend making a decision she’ll regret for life is an emergency.” He reached forward and grabbed my hand. “I wouldn’t have given up control, y/n, if I’d known you would run back to a married man.”

I tried to pull my hand back, but the fingers of his other hand wrapped around my wrist, tightly, with bruising pressure. I winced. “Tom, you’re hurting me.”

“Is that not a fair turnabout, as you’ve hurt me?” He tightened his grip, yanking me forward slightly. “You need to apologize, Dear, and tell me that you take it back.” I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. “Because your options, Dear, are loneliness, being a married man’s sex doll, or me. If you want a future, a life you and Nova can enjoy and be proud of, you will apologize to me and take… it… back.”

“Hey, y/n/n, you okay?” Jared’s voice pulled my attention to the right, where he was jogging across the lot.

“This is between y/n and me. Don't interfere. It's not your business.” Tom snapped, coldly, dropping my wrist.

“I'm gonna tell you why you're wrong.” Jared came to stand next to me, body angled so that he was ever so slightly in between Tom and me. “You came to my city. You came to my studio to harass my friend who doesn't want to see you. That makes it my fucking business. So, if she wants me to interfere, I'm here for that.”

Tom sneered. “You're not nearly as intimidating as you believe you are.”

“I don't need to be intimidating. I'm the guy that finishes the fight, not the one who starts it. Walk away, jackass, because I would have no problem explaining to the cops and the media why I felt the need to smash your pretty fuckin’ face… all of why I felt the need.” Tom's lip twitched as Jared spoke. “Your fans are kinda fucked up, so they might like you more when it comes out that you're a controlling dickwad, but Disney probably wouldn't be happy about you losing your ‘pristine English gentleman’ facade.”

Tom was barely containing his anger. He doesn't like being talked to like that. But Jared just kept talking, not at all minding the rage in Tom's eyes. “Leave her the fuck alone, stop stalking her at her work, tell the fuckin’ world you aren't together anymore, and go find someone who wants you to treat them like a piece of property.”

“When you realize your mistake…” Tom huffed, angrily, pointing his finger in my face. “... I do hope it’s not too late.”

As he stomped away toward the parking garage, I rubbed my wrist and watched him leave. Jared gently grabbed my hand and rolled my sleeve up, growling when he saw the handprint forming there. “I should call the fucking cops.”

“No.” I shook my head. “No, you’ve already helped so much. I just want it to be over. I gotta go get this covered up. Can you tell Rich I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes?” Jared nodded with a sigh before wrapping me in one of those life-affirming hugs. He kissed the top of my head and I rushed up the stairs into Hair and Makeup.

Trisha gave me a worried look when I asked her to put cover makeup on the rapidly-forming bruises, but I just shrugged it off, telling her it was just an overzealous stunt actor. She didn’t seem to believe me, but I stuck to my line until I was back on set. Jensen stopped mid-sentence and rushed to me. Rich called ‘cut’ and did the same.

“You okay?” Jay asked, quietly.

“Yeah.” I assured him, with a smile and a nod.

“Let me see your wrist.” Richard demanded.

“Guys, it’s okay!” I insisted, stepping back from the men crowding me. “It’s over. He’s gone. I just wanna get back to work and-”

“He hurt you.” Jay’s jaw twitched with barely-contained fury that usually only showed when he was being Dean. “And you’re just gonna let him get away with it?”

“Yes, I am!” I tugged my sleeve down over my hand as far as possible. “I’m not going to start a huge media fiasco over a few fuckin’ bruises. If I accused him… it would ruin me. His fans would drag me worse than they already do. His lawyers would destroy me. I just want it to be over. Let it be over,” I begged.

Jensen let out a shaky breath, still barely keeping in an explosion. “If I ever see him again, I’m gonna break his fuckin’ face.”

“What are you going to do when you have to go back to work for Marvel?” Rich asked.

“If I have to go back, I’ll deal with that, but… Marvel is really good about recasting trouble actors. You think they’d keep me on as Sin if I slapped one of their major stars with a domestic abuse charge?” I scoffed. “I’m not throwing away my dream just so that Tom can get what’s coming to him. It’s over. Tom and I are over. He won’t hurt me, again. Just leave it alone.”

Jay sighed. “People need to see him for who he really is, Baby Girl. Keeping quiet just gives him power.”

“He’s already got power, Jay, and my silence buys me some semblance of peace. Historically, nothing bad happens to a rich man accused of doing horrible shit. Look at Sean Penn, Alec Baldwin, Charlie Sheen, look at Kobe Bryant and Chris Brown. I don’t want to…” I took a deep breath. “It’s over.” I repeated.

“Okay. Fine. It’s over.” Jay nodded.

Except, of course, it wasn’t, because somehow TMZ got their hands on security footage from the studio lot. I was greeted by a hundred notifications, all to do with the obvious argument Tom and I had and the rough way he grabbed me, Jared coming to my rescue.

Damage control was a series of tweets saying Tom and I had a falling out, as sometimes happens, and what that video showed wasn’t as rough or violent as it seemed. I ended it by saying that Tom was a great man, a perfect gentleman who would never dream of raising a hand to a woman and that I hoped he would find happiness in the future.

Of course, that didn’t help much. I mean, it worked on Tom’s fans (who were more than happy that Tom and I were done), but everybody else? No dice. And when Taylor Swift put her two cents in, I knew it was far beyond my ability to control and the only thing I could do was lie and deny her completely true assertion.

‘Sounds like somebody’s afraid to lose her job with @marvelstudios so she’s toeing the party line. Are you afraid of retaliation if you speak out against @twhiddleston?’

“Are we going to have a problem with you and Tom?”

“No. No, sir.” I growled into my phone at the Marvel exec on my line. “I gave my statement.”

“He never hurt you?”

“No. We have no problems. Just a break-up.”

“And, in the future, you would be all right to film with him, do promotion with him?”

“Yes, sir. There was very little animosity in our split.” I lied, staring down at my blue and purple and greenish wrist. The bruises had bloomed up to cover my entire wrist, a painful version of the leather bracelet I used to wear. It made me a bit sick to lie, but if I didn’t lie there was no way in hell I was going to get to stay Sin.

“All right. Tom said the same, but I wanted to make sure. Absolutely nothing you need to tell me?”

“No, sir. Absolutely nothing.”

“Good. Keep it that way and everything’ll be fine.”

I took a deep breath. Marvel covering its ass by covering Tom’s ass. Totally expected. “I understand.”

“We’ll be in touch.”

“Yes, sir. Goodbye.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hate people gossiping about me. I hate people discussing my motivations like they have any right to speculate. I was almost excited to answer questions at MinnCon, since I knew I’d be able to put some of those questions to bed.

“I know this might be invasive but we’ve been talking about it since the video leaked. What happened with Jared and Tom?”

“Okay, so, that was a Friday, right, and on Wednesday, I had broken things off with Tom. Tom showed up on Friday morning to convince me that I was making a mistake and that I should take it back.” I swallowed at the memory of Tom demanding I take it back. “I disagreed, tried to get him to leave so I could get back to work. He took my hand in his and when I tried to pull away to leave, he stopped me with a hand on my wrist. Not violently, just holding me in place. Jared didn’t want Tom around because he knew that I broke up with Tom, so he came over to tell Tom to leave in his Texan gentleman way. But it’s not a big deal and Tom didn’t hurt me, okay?”

“Then, why were you rubbing your wrist in the video?”

“Because I was in shock that he’d even grabbed me, at all.” I lied. God, I am such a liar since I started acting. “Like I said, Tom is not the kind of man to raise his hand to a woman and the fact that he grabbed me, even such a small action like that, was shocking to me.”

The next fan asked why I left Tom. “Because…” I bit the inside of my lip and sighed. “Because Tom wanted something I couldn’t provide. I spent my whole marriage as someone’s… someone’s accessory. I lost myself in my ex-husband. I only existed in relation to Nate. It was this… toxic thing, and even though Tom is a vastly different kind of person than Nate is…” *Yeah, Nate never hurt me.* “I noticed some… fundamental similarities in my relationship with Tom and how my relationship with Nate started out. Tom is an all-in kinda guy. He’s the kinda guy that… wants you to be friends with his friends because he already knows they’re awesome. He’s the kind of guy that knows the best way to help you attain your goals and pushes you to do things the way he knows is best. He’s wise and intelligent and he needs a woman who can let herself be lost in him and I couldn’t… not after Nate.”

“What advice would you give Tom’s next girlfriend?” The next questioner asked.

I sighed. “Be prepared to lose yourself. Tom is an overwhelming force and if you’re not one to be completely swept up in him… don’t waste your time.”

“Okay,” started the next fan. “but if you were in an abusive relationship, don’t you think it is your responsibility to the next girl to warn them?”

Okay, so this fan didn’t believe me. That’s fine, a lot of people don’t, whatever. “Um, no. I don’t think it’s my responsibility. I think that’s a lot of pressure to put on someone, to make them feel like they have to report and possibly put themselves in harm’s way just to keep someone else from making the same mistake. I think… I think warning someone isn’t going to stop them, it didn’t stop me with Nathan, who I’m going to assume this question is about, and it didn’t stop his new wife.” I shook my head. “If I were ever in an abusive relationship, I would do what I could to keep myself safe. Other people’s safety is not paramount over my own and my daughter’s. I wouldn’t owe it to anyone to report. Grown folks can make their own decisions.”

The next few questions were about Tara and about coming back to the show. I excitedly spoke about it, talking about how much I’d missed Vancouver and the studio and the guys and Tara. “Now, that’s not to say that being Sinthea is, like, less important than being Tara, but Tara is just… such a great character. Some really great things were shot the week Tom and I split, some emotional awesome things and I can’t wait for you guys to see them, it’s gonna be awesome!”

“What is your favorite thing about playing Tara?”

“Oh, gosh. That’s a hard one.” I contemplated it. “It’s gotta be the guys. Like, how Tara interacts with Sam and Dean. She’s aggressively flirty with Dean and she’s got that lore-focused kinship with Sam and I think that’s a high point of Tara.”

“Have you gotten to hang with Jensen and Jared since you’ve been back in Vancouver?”

“Yeah, all the time. I missed them so much when I was out and about, so it’s kinda great to be able to just hang out in their trailers and have lunch in Craft together.”

After my panel, I got several notifications from Twitter, most saying things like ‘I think @y/l/n_y/n is trying to warn people as subtly as she can about Tom. Knowing she can't speak against him for her own safety and peace of mind, she's saying things like’ and then quotes from my panel. Because our fans are creative and bizarrely Intelligent, they caught my hints. Well, more was coming for them. My karaoke song was ‘Stronger (What Doesn't Kill You)’ by Kelly Clarkson.

On Saturday, I answered the same sort of questions in the same cryptic manner and then I hung out in the green room until it was time to get ready for the SNS. I was wearing a black skirt with large white stars and a black tank top, with white strappy sandal heels, an outfit specifically bought for this SNS, this song, when hands covered my eyes. “Guess who?”

I smiled. It was obviously Jay. I could smell his cologne, even if I couldn’t recognize his voice anywhere. “Hmmm. It’s too tall to be Rob… is it Pellegrino?”

He chuckled and dropped his hands, wrapping them around my shoulders. “I love you, you goof.”

“Yeah, I’m the goof.” I turned and looked at him. He was wearing a Bad Idea Tour shirt and a Family Business Beer Co. ball cap. He looked amazing.

“You look great,” he said, eyes dragging down my body like he didn’t know exactly what I looked like under the clothes.

“Thanks. You like it?”

“Oh, yeah.” He nodded. “What are you singing?”

“It’s a surprise. Only Swain and I know.” I smirked. “But if the fans enjoyed the underhanded reference to Tom that was ‘Stronger’, they’re gonna go crazy for tonight.”

“You know, I thought you just wanted it to be over.” Jay teased, smirking at me.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I also don’t want him to think I’ve just let him get away with it. Somebody got all pissy when he thought I was just gonna let Tom hurt me and get away with it.”

“I’m glad you listened.”

“I wasn’t ever really planning to lay down about it, dude. Just had to cover my own ass. Repeat the same lie in the same robotic tone, give little veiled references to the relationship, make sure it’s nothing that they can actually point to that I accused him of. Don’t worry. Anyone who’s paying attention knows exactly what really happened.”

He nodded. “After the party, you should come to my hotel with me.” His words were quiet and I got a thrill from them but I shook my head.

“That’d be a bad idea.”

“You don’t trust me?” He smirked.

I shook my head. “Don’t trust myself.”

He chuckled, patting my shoulder. “I got somethin’ to show you, Baby Girl. It’s important and not somethin’ I wanna wait to share.”

My eyebrows came together, confused as to what he could possibly need to share with me. “Okay. Well, I guess… okay.” I nodded and he smiled.

When I got on stage, I was ridiculously excited. “Hey, y/n. You gonna give us some Eagles tonight?” Rob asked into the microphone.

“Nope.” I answered, succinctly.

“Ah, then, Miranda Lambert?”

“Not tonight, Rob. See, I realized that I sing a lot of the same songs. I’m repetitive, Robbie, and who wants that? So, I asked Twitter to send me their favorite upbeat breakup songs and there was one song, Mr. Benedict, one song that was just a gem. A perfect song.” I said, dramatically, channeling my inner Richard Speight Jr. “I have listened to this song, no joke, two hundred and fifty-three times since I discovered it, so I’m pulling out some pop music tonight.”

The audience exploded in whoops and hollers as Richard walked out with a ukulele, which he handed to Borja. Rich slung the strap of Borja’s bass over his head as Mike started to strum the uke. Some fans recognized the song immediately, some caught on when the drums came in. I jumped up and down to the beat, already having fun.

“Maybe I’m just crazy. Maybe I’m a fool. Maybe I don’t know how to love but, Maybe I do. Maybe you know more than me but This much is true, This little heart and brain of mine say We’re through wit’chu. And I wonder, does it blow your mind That I’m leavin’ you far behind? I wonder, does it stop your heart to know You’re not my sunshine, anymore?” I smirked as I turned to Billy and Rob. I could see Jay watching from the curtain. He obviously didn’t know the song, but he was enjoying the show. “Okay, you’re pretty. Your face is a work of art. Your smile could light up New York City after dark. Okay, you’re Coverboy pretty, Stamped with a beauty mark. But it’s such a pity, a boy so pretty With an ugly heart.”

I bounced around the stage during the bridge between verses as the audience cheered. “Maybe you’ll get married And she will kiss your feet While I give all my rides away. I won’t lose no sleep. Maybe on your honeymoon You’ll think of me. But if you don’t, won’t shed a tear. Yeah, I can guarantee. And I wonder, does it blow your mind That I’m leavin’ you far behind? I wonder, does it stop your heart to know You’re not my sunshine, anymore? Okay, you’re pretty. Your face is a work of art. Your smile could light up New York City after dark. Okay, you’re Coverboy pretty, Stamped with a beauty mark. But it’s such a pity, a boy so pretty With an ugly heart.”

When it came to the ritardando of the third chorus, when everything slowed down, I stopped bouncing and put the microphone back in the mic stand. “Okay, you’re pretty. Your face is a work of art. Your smile could probably light up London after dark.” Screams from the audience as I confirmed who I was singing about. I smirked and nodded. “Okay, you’re Coverboy pretty Stamped with a beauty mark. But it’s such a pity, a boy so pretty With an uh-oh, an uh-oh, an ugly heart. An uh-oh, an uh-oh, an ugly heart sooooo.” I grabbed the microphone and pulled it off the stand as I went to bouncing around the stage again.

“Okay, you’re pretty. Your face is a work of art. Your smile could light up New York City after dark. Okay, you’re Coverboy pretty, Stamped with a beauty mark. But it’s such a pity, a boy so pretty With an ugly heart. Okay, you’re pretty. Your face is a work of art. Your smile could light up New York City after dark. Okay, you’re Coverboy pretty, Stamped with a beauty mark. But it’s such a pity, a boy so pretty With an ugly heart.” I was out of breath by the end of the song, but ultimately happy as the fans screamed. “I love you all! Watch out for pretty boys with ugly hearts!” I waved at the audience, tossing the mic to Rich, who almost dropped it.

When I bounced off the stage, Jensen smiled brightly at me. “That’s a great song.”

“I thought so.” I smiled, taking the bottle of water he handed me.

“And it definitely sent a message.”

“Précisément.” I giggled. He smirked and wrapped me in his arms. I melted into him a little. Not too much, because people were around, but enough to feel his muscles under his marathon shirt and miss the way his skin feels. He spun me around and we listened to Swain with me leaning back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me. He squeezed me before pulling away and heading for the stairs to the stage.

I walked to the curtain, watching him greet the audience and our friends on the stage. The drumbeat that started was not one I recognized, not a song Jensen usually sang, something new. “I know your hidin’ places And I know your every move ‘Cause girl, I’ve been lonely, too. And I’ve seen a million faces. Been to a million places. But, girl, there’s no one quite like you.” He turned back to look at me, winking conspicuously before turning back to the audience. “And I’d walk through Hell and high water, Wash away with the tide. I can lose a damn war all by myself If you were on the other side. So, in the mornin’ when the rooster crows Pack your bags and get ready to go. If you’re walkin’ through Hell and high water, Please don’t do it alone. I know you feel let down, And I know you’ve been turned out. I wish I’d been there for you. So when the night time comes around And you feel like an only child, Just know I’ll be there for you. And I’d walk through Hell and high water, Wash away with the tide. I can lose a damn war all by myself If you were on the other side. So, in the mornin’ when the rooster crows Pack your bags and get ready to go. If you’re walkin’ through Hell and high water, Please don’t do it alone.”

As Billy started a guitar solo, Jensen ran backstage to grab a bottle of water. “Black Stone Cherry, a damn fine band.” He drained the bottle, quickly, smiling at me. “You likin’ it?”

“Uh-huh.” I said, a little breathless.

“Good. I’m singin’ it for you.” He kissed the top of my head and ran back out on stage. “And I’d walk through Hell and high water, Wash away with the tide. I can lose a damn war all by myself If you were on the other side. So, in the mornin’ when the rooster crows Pack your bags and get ready to go. If you’re walkin’ through Hell and high water, Please don’t do it alone. If you’re walkin’ through Hell and high water, Please don’t do it alone. Oh no!”

Jay waved to the audience, hugged Rob, blew a kiss to the fans and walked off stage. “I will never get over your fuckin’ voice, Mr. Ackles. Rockstar Jensen Ackles.”

“Fangirl y/n y/l/n.” He countered, making me laugh. “You ready to get outta here?”

I sobered, instantly. There was something so familiar about leaving the Saturday Night Special to have Clif drive us to Jensen’s hotel and my mind took me to that time before I nodded. Nothing would happen, I wouldn’t let it, but I still couldn’t help thinking about it and getting a bit tense as we rode over. I stopped at his hotel room door, not crossing the threshold. He turned to me and raised that damn eyebrow at me. “Do I have to come inside?”

He rolled his eyes. “Get your ass in here, Baby Girl.” He stomped toward the table across the room and I slipped in, closing the door behind me. When I turned back around, he was holding a stack of papers, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “I got served.”

I stepped closer, taking the papers in my hands. The all-too-familiar paperwork titled ‘Petition For The Dissolution of Marriage With Minor Children’ made me sad. As much as I wanted Jay, I also wanted them to work it out. I wanted Danneel to come to her senses and keep their family together, but apparently that wasn’t happening. “Oh, Jay.” I said, sadly.

He looked a bit taken aback by my reaction. “I, uh, I thought you’d be happier, kid. She’s filed. We can be together again.”

I nodded, setting the divorce papers on the dresser next to the TV. “I know, Jay, but… this is… I feel so bad for your family, for your kids, especially. They’re so young.”

“I’m not gonna love ‘em any less just because I’m not married to Danneel.”

“But I remember how confused Nova was when Nate left me.” I sighed, shaking my head. “I’m… I’m happy to be able to… but I’m sad for you. I’m sad for Danneel. I’m sad for your kids.”

“Did it break Nova?” He said it quietly, not seeming to expect an answer from me as he stepped in front of me and cupped my face in his hands. “Everything’s gonna be fine, Baby Girl. You and me, we can get through anything. We can get our families through anything. Right?” I nodded. “Then, why don’t we enjoy the good things?”

“Jay…” I looked up into his eyes, getting fuckin’ lost again, but not having to feel bad about that for the first time in months.

“Y/n/n… please.” He whispered, leaning down as I went to my tiptoes wrapping my arms around his neck as he pressed his lips to mine. His hands moved to grab the bottom of my tank top, walking me backward toward the bed as he pulled the shirt off over my head. “Fuck.” He grunted, dropping to his knees in front of me and looking up at my face with adoration as he ran his hands up the inside of my legs and under my skirt.

“Jensen, I…”

“Shh.” He shook his head, letting his right hand stay under my skirt, thumb running down my slit as he pulled his left hand around to pull down my zipper. The skirt crumpled to my feet and I was left in just my bra and panties and those strappy white sandal heels. He leaned forward, placing a kiss to the top of my thigh as he started to unbuckle the straps on my shoes. “Fuckin’ missed you.” He looked up at me as he slipped the heel off, a reverse Cinderella, before doing the same to the other leg complete with the kiss to the top of my thigh.

I smiled down at him as he set the shoes neatly to the side. “Prince Charming… with Rapunzel eyes.” I chuckled.

“I’ve seen those pictures. My eyes aren’t that big.” He smirked as he stood, taking off his hat and tossing it across the room, before reaching back and grabbing the back of his tee, quickly pulling it off and throwing it down. I took a sharp breath and swallowed thickly. “You missed me, too, didn’t ya?”

“God, yes.” I whispered, reaching behind me to unclip my bra as he slipped his feet out of his boots and unzipped his jeans. I dropped my bra to the floor and stepped forward, running my hands across his abs as his jeans puddled at his feet. I squeaked when he pushed me, unexpectedly, backward so that I bounced on the bed. He tucked his fingers in the waistband of my underwear and pulled them down my legs, until they dropped to the floor and he slotted himself with his head between my thighs. “Jay. Please. Fuck.”

“Love it when you beg.” He said, licking at the inside of my thigh, making me whine.

“Please, don’t tease.” I said, breathlessly.

“Okay, Baby Girl.” He ran his left hand up and spread my lips with his first and middle fingers, licking circles around my clit. The middle finger of his right hand sunk into me easily and he started to pump it quickly in and out of me. He waited until I was squirming on the bed before he added a second finger and started to suck my clit and the surrounding skin into his mouth, humming happily as I fell apart on his fingers.

“Holy fuck!” I whined as he climbed up my body. He pulled me into a kiss, licking at the inside of my mouth in a very similar manner to how he’d licked at my pussy. I reached down and wrapped my fingers around his cock and he grunted into my mouth. I ran my hand up and down the length of him a few times, running my thumb over the head and making him buck into my fist.

He pulled away from the kiss, dropping his head to the crook of my neck as he fucked my hand a bit. “Need you.” He grunted.

“I’m right here, Jay.” I whispered. “You got me.”

He reached down, covering my hand with his and lined himself up with my cunt, rubbing the head of his cock from my clit down to my entrance. I moved my hand from his length and grasped his upper arms, fingers of my right hand splayed across his bird tattoo, as he started to swivel his hips, pushing himself into me. “Almost forgot how fuckin’ tight you are.”

“Not tight, Jay. Strong, remember?” I clenched my inner muscles and he let out a strangled cry.

“Fuck, Baby. Gonna kill me with that.”

“Never killed you before.” I teased as he bottomed out, kissing across my shoulder as he let me adjust to his size. “Jay… please move. Please fuckin’ move.”

He pulled back just barely and started to roll his hips, pulling moans from my throat. He moved to kiss me again and I buried my hands in his hair, tangling my legs with his, raising my hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to go harder, to let go, to send me into that spiral I’d been desperately needing. When he finally tucked his arms under my shoulders to hold me still as he started to drill into me with abandon, my eyes rolled up and I started to make that noise. That high-pitched whining noise that only Jensen has ever been able to get out of me, the badge of sexual devastation he pinned on like a high honor.

I screamed his name as I came. I couldn’t even think about the fact that there were other people in the hotel. I couldn’t think, at all, until he’d given a few more hard thrusts and grunted into my ear as he came, too, breathing heavily. He looked down into my eyes, both of us panting and sweaty, feeling amazing. “Shit,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to rest against mine. “I forgot the condom.”

I closed my eyes and sighed. “It’s okay. I can… I can get a Plan B in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, Baby Girl. I was just… overeager.” He said, pulling out of me and dropping to the mattress, pulling me into his arms. “Though, I will say, going in you raw is probably one of the best things I’ve ever felt.” He kissed the back of my neck and sighed.

I rolled my head to the side to give him better access. “Well, maybe I can go on birth control or something. I mean, it’s not like we have to use condoms, anymore. Dee’s rules don’t count, anymore.”

“You’re right. Let’s do that,” he said, excitedly.

I chuckled at how happy he was. “Okay. Well, I’ll make an appointment, get a checkup and a prescription for some sort of birth control.”

“Hey. You know I love you, right?” He whispered, pulling the comforter over us.

“Of course I know that. That was the start of all our problems and all our greatest happiness.” I affected a silly voice as I said it. “And I love you, too, Jay.” I finished, seriously, leaning up to press my lips to his and then settling down to fall asleep in his arms.

Open/Something More Tags- @angelessquirrel  @mirandaaustin93 @supernatural-bellawinchester @mannls @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @nanie5 @super-fics @sev3nruby@racewife2004

Everything- @heyitscam99

[yoshi-p]

everyone and their dog is doing it and everyone is absolutely allowed to share their opinions so i want a turn but first let me clarify:

hello im yase, been around since 1.0. I am of turkish and nogai descent and i can speak fluently in tatar, turkish but my english doesn’t hold 100% so i will be all over the place.

Unfortunately this will all be word of mouth and may be taken as vague posting, but I have experienced issues since the release of 4.0 and would like to give my opinions. I want to let this all off my chest this is just a huge vent basically so i guarantee my english will be terrible.

the most important point: NEVER EVER SPEAK FOR ANOTHER CULTURE. NEVER EVER SPEAK ABOUT A CULTURE YOU DON’T KNOW. YOU HAVE SPREAD FALSE INFORMATION AND I AM SO HURT.

another point is ITS A VIDEO GAME GUYS (does not apply to everything but some people really need to take a step back because people are concerned.)

Here’s the hot topic I’ll talk of first: garleans. I personally do not play one as I prefer to play characters that would never be involved in a sense with the political agenda because in real life im too stupid to comprehend anything like that so i wouldn’t even know how my character would behave with the hot topics. I really do think people need to take a step back and see that everyone who is putting in their input is making solid points but personally I would never compare them to nazi germany though I see why people are generalising. I always saw it as tsardom of russia with the use of roman influence as well, something obvious in naming conventions and the way the ranks/monarchy(?) works but it’s not so clear what the main influences of most places in this game if you have a look at the bigger picture. Without like full on spoiling, its weird to have this view to me with the knowledge that ascians are behind this. Are you implying anyone who plays or was influenced by ascians is also under this umbrella? 

Also why THE HELL WOULD YOU TAG SOMETHING KNOWING IT WOULD GET A LOT OF TRACTION AND RESPONSE THEN BE LIKE “you guys misunderstood, I was expressing my feelings” lol no. “ I don’t understand where this is coming from, and at this point, I don’t really want to.” then why did you even fucking bother do it in private dont tag it.

You are COMPLETELY valid to feeling uncomfortable, it is fine because with how much of this world we have there will be aspects some of us don’t like. You are not inclined to involve yourself with someone if they roleplay as a garlean but you do not need to start publicising it in a way that will paint the community in black and white when its truly a wider spectrum.

YOU CHOOSE WHO YOU INVOLVE YOURSELF WITH AND WHO YOU PLAY WITH, PLEASE GET AWAY FROM PEOPLE WHO GIVE YOU NEGATIVE FEELINGS OR YOU’LL SPREAD IT TO OTHERS.

from that initial and very brief tagged post there popped up many others and new discourse is arising, opening discussions about many things which is better then being blind to it all. but if you have personal grievances with someone and you state its over, let it be over. It’s not healthy behaviour. it’s also troubling to see someone complain a lot about the game and continue to play, no one is forcing you or holding a gun to your head. take breaks if you need to and play less frequently. like, real life is so much more important and there are people in this community that prioritise relationships with players etc.

Also, please stop fucking talking about mongolian/turkic/turkish culture like you know things. 99% of the big mouths in this community are americans. like majority are white americans. 

over the course of this expansion i have had many people of varied backgrounds share with me some terrible experiences and i myself have seen some truly stupid shit. 

WE ARE HERE TO HELP YOU LEARN OF OUR CULTURE AND WHERE TO CONTINUE DOING SO. DO NOT INTERPRET MEDIA AS ACCURATE REPRESENTATION OF CULTURE.

it is absolutely not hard to tag a post and ask around, someone will pop up. I’ve been doing my very best to let everyone i know that i can help with learning about my culture or to find someone who would be more then happy to explain and share with other cultures. But when you go off of a documentary you saw of Genghis khan or only know of the tourist white people scenes of istanbul you as a community say some TRULY dumb shit.

I like to try and be patient because i myself when approaching someone of a culture i admire and am curious about i want that in turn. But if you say to me things like “Ainu aren’t real” or “Tatar people have nothing in common with tribes from the Altai mountains” its hard to do so.

FFXIV regions are not just “Germany” “Turkey” “Mongolia”. If you think this, it’s clear to me you don’t know shit and are too lazy to explore, further just google shit its not that hard. I had someone tell me that my people could never be in this game since its “Straight up mongolia” fucks sake NO ITS NOT. The designs vary and i can see the differences in simple things like words because i actually bother to do research even coming from a turkic culture. There were some beautiful little things dropped that linked to not only my people but others like Uyghur and Altai. The only place in FFXIV i think could only have a singular influence is Kugane, because from a foreigner’s perspective that’s already interesting enough. Many people have grievances and real issues with how SE has handled Doma’s influences and no one ever talks about that. Representation for asia in media has turned into this mess of specific east asian countries, the trio that even then gets categorized into China/Japan with brief mentions of Korean culture. 

Its frustrating. There are people who are happy to teach you. Who are willing to show what is wrong with the picture.

I have read several posts about Turkey/istanbul/Antalya. Yall fuckin weird you guys seem to think its in U.A.E or some shit with how you act. It’s in the Mediterranean/Europe/Asia/Middle East and there is no such thing as a specific looking Turkish person. You claim everyone is specifically white/brown, HELL NO. It’s a mixed nation and that’s the history of the land, if you had ever fucking stepped in turkey and spoke to any person on the street they’ll say their heritage that lead them to there. People claim Ala mhigo’s influences are turkey but i have yet to see that. As someone who has lived there and has heritage there and is strongly connected to that culture, i dont see it. sure the ala mhigan gown had patternings but thats also present in my nogai culture too because parts of turkey’s society descended from the line of the Kayi tribe. Just fucking LEARN TO READ GUYS. None of you guys even know what the altai mountains mean and i could sit and explain over and over again if you let people SPEAK.

Look at Thavnairian items. We have outfits that are completely different, a full length dress and then a bustier. you can’t start generalising things in video games to be one culture you have to realise most places in this game have several influences. We don’t know a lot but everything we have been given has been varied enough to pin point it to ONLY one influence.

I don’t want to just keep going about this simply because im growing frustrated.

The thing with Viera complaints. I think some are valid but some are stupid. For one as I make this post it hasn’t even been confirmed so there is no reason for policing Viera to a severe extent. Considering all the Ivalice content in game has been an alternate universe kind of thing its dumb as shit. But feol viera being made without understanding the knowledge that people who have played rw picked up is quite frustrating. As a community, its important to help people when we have information that others may need that they cant understand the context of.

I know people are worried about them being fetishized, that is my legitimate fear too as a huge ivalice fan. But this is a repeated cycle especially when we consider generalizations like miqo’te especially seekers and belly dancing or when au ra arrived and people thought xaela were genghis khan basically. 

The game is not solid, there are so many holes in the lore and the plots and i know people hate that but we fill the gaps with our own opinions and theories. While I understand some people think we need to move forward in 2019 because “japan is xenophobic”, its a very difficult thing to do. THEY DO HIRE PEOPLE FOR CULTURE ADVISING. THEY TRAVEL OFTEN AND DEVELOP WITH THIS. IT’S NOT LIKE THEY WENT ON GOOGLE AND SAID “yeah a japan land would be fun” they literally have people hired specifically for this stuff. however, at the end of the day its a company that has yet to show it can evolve with the times. Its becoming more and more evident with the recent patterns of main titles in FF and side projects having so many issues in story/lore/management. remember 1.0 basically died being absolute garbage and this is salvaged from that.

its really late and i had a terrible evening so i may not be making the most sense but theres more important things to worry about then to make this game a miserable experience when it could be a huge learning opportunity for everyone. There’s no need to generalise people into categories because of characters they choose to develop but its important to note with majority of people standing up higher on the pedestal are those speaking for the minorities groups that have direct influences in the game.

also lol if you fucking say ainu aren’t real to me one more time i will fucking throttle you