#I've had plenty of other thoughts but this is already long so I'll end things here

[cyberpunkboytoy]

dol anon back and JUMPING FOR JOY!!!! i'm so curious what love interests you liked and which soft end you got (i have a guess but 🤫) and everything. pls. also i'm begging for you to drop your pc design i'm sure they're so cute <3 there is so much to do in dol i don't even know where to start sometimes, like the entire cooking system was just added a couple weeks back and i have barely touched it out of fear lol

I am still definitely early in discovering everything, as splitting time between files is hindering forward progression, but I still have plenty of thoughts 💪 (especially bc I've also been scouring the wiki)

My trial run PC is a lovely lady named Mela, who I don't currently have a good screenshot of. Imagine a dead anime mom in a happy flashback, that's her. Anyway, she's So Fucking Clumsy, exceptionally talented at tearing her clothes on every school desk, tree, gust of air... she's so fucking expensive. Mela, please.

Mela was me playing safe (largely being devoted to school), and I put my fucking life on the line trying to complete my science fair project only to get hunted by Eden. I made a separate save file just to see through Eden's bad ending, and ended up really enjoying her as a love interest—btw, why is ALL the fan art of Eden a dude??? She's obviously hottest as a huge scary woman. I kinda want to draw her.

I'll likely continue Mela's regular save state (didn't get past week 2 of normal life), but it was moreso training wheels and exploration than roleplaying a character I'm actually attached too.

My other current file is playing as my OC Dulce, who is a perfect fit for this game. There are so many other Dulce-esque characters already written in, the biggest being Whitney (all Whitney fanart is SOOO Dulce to me). I haven't met the ranch hand yet but he's apparently an alcoholic, which also reminds me of Dulce. Dulce is gonna slut it up & drink & do delinquent shit & dance, very excited to see where it goes. Probably is gonna try to pursue Whitney bc they are matchies.

I'm gonna make other PCs too, there's so much to investigate. Sydney, for example, absolutely fascinates me. So fucking cute, but also such an obvious little creepazoid. And SOMETHING is going on with him, but idk what yet. So many fucking red flags. Corruption kinks aren't usually interesting to me but I desperately want to see where that goes, too.

Robin is very cute. Sydney & Robin are currently my two favorite love interests, bc I'm honestly a sucker for vanilla romance. Kylar is a yandere & I don't enjoy yanderes so I'm not excited about him. I have a future playthrough in mind to pursue Avery—he reminds me of Fujieda Slow Damage (which is funny to me, bc this game feels like the perfect enclosure for Towa Slow Damage. Who i might play as). Also I'm really mad the Ivory Wraith isn't a love interest, she FASCINATES ME and I love how she talks and I want her so bad.

Miscellaneous thoughts: all the teachers need to be fired immediately and I hate the forest with my entire being.

[nohaijiachi]

Why I Think The Fandom Has Been Doing Aziraphale Dirty Ever Since Season 1 And It's Only Gotten Worse With Season 2 And It's Killing Me Inside

Before we get into the subject matter of the title let me preface a couple of things:

1- All that will follow is, big surprise, my opinion and my interpretation of this character. Do I think I am The One And Only Who Gets The Blorbo Right and that my ideas are 100% the way the author(s) intended to convey the character? No.

More likely than not the way I see Aziraphale could be intensely different from the way Authorman sees him, or Actorman sees him, and I don't think that my interpretation is necessarily any more correct than anybody's else.

That said, if I also did not think that I am, in fact, correct on a certain level, I wouldn't have bothered forming such a thought out opinion of Aziraphale in the first place, nor would be sitting here, writing this post that I can already tell is going to be entirely too long and might probably ruffle some feathers.

So I'll be writing the rest of this post with the caveat that I while I do think my interpretation correct, I'm also not trying to change anybody's mind nor to discredit anybody's else interpretation of Aziraphale. We can sit here in the sandpit and hold different opinions and still be able to build sandcastles together, it really isn't that deep at the end of the day; I can assure you, I'm not here to fight nor cause fights with this one.

2- With the above point, comes also the fact that I won't bother continuously saying "In my opinion" for the rest of this post. You already know that. So, if something will come across as a bit caustic, do know that it is very much tongue in cheek and I am poking a bit of fun at general fannish habits that I am also very much quote-unquoute 'guilty' of having partaken into, and will partake into again plenty of times in the future, I'm sure.

So, with that: Here's Why I Think The Fandom Has Been Doing Aziraphale Dirty Ever Since Season 1 And It's Only Gotten Worse With Season 2 And It's Killing Me Inside

A large part of the people comprising this fandom prefers Crowley. There, I said it.

This fandom's preference blatantly skews toward Crowley. Can we admit that openly? Let's admit that openly.

To be clear, this isn't meant to be an accusation or recrimination or any other -ation you can think of, I am merely stating matter-of-factly a phenomena I've observed in the last four years.

It is also not a wrong nor bad thing in any way, shape or form. I adore Crowley myself. I love them both so much it's unreal.

But I started with that because I think it is very much a symptom of the fact that a lot of people don't get Aziraphale.

I remember back with S1 there had been plenty of times when I found myself reading discussions and opinion exchanges about Aziraphale and Crowley, their dynamics, all the things that went unsaid behind the things that were said, and found myself genuinely surprised by seeing how some people interpreted certain moments wildly different from how I personally saw them.

I look back at that and I think "Oh, sweet summer child". Nothing could have prepared me from the onslaught of takes about Aziraphale that make me go "Good lord, what???" in the wake of S2, and the infamous Last Fifteen.

Now because I don't want to be pointing fingers at specific things and risk upsetting somebody more than I already am by being open in admitting that, guys, yes, some of the takes y'all have been sharing make me go "Yikes(tm)", I'll move on the interesting part and what I would actually love to discuss, aka cracking Aziraphale's head open and see what that actual fuck is going on in there.

Another preface: Because this duo is intrinsically linked and woven together it is downright impossible to only focus on Aziraphale without also mentioning Crowley, so... Let me circle back to our fav demon bae for a sec, here.

I think the reason why it seems that a larger part of the fandom favors Crowley is because I feel like Crowley is a much easier character to grasp. He is very open in his thoughts and feelings, at any given moment us, the audience, have a much easier time watching a scene and sort of ruminating in the back of our heads about Crowley's motivations for saying the things he says and doing the things he does.

That isn't to say Crowley is a less complex character than Aziraphale. They are very much equally complex and multifaceted individuals with their strengths and weaknesses, their issues and the way they each cope with them, how differently they approach their existence and so on and so forth.

But whereas Crowley as a character presents itself with a certain dynamism and a far more outward openness about his complexity, Aziraphale does the exact opposite; we can say Aziraphale is downright hermetic about it.

For us, the audience, he presents a challenge that requires a good deal of thought being put into him to see over the facade he presents at a more superficial level; he requires time and effort to fully dismantle him in our minds to try and see what makes him thick (other than his thighs), and thus I think it is entirely natural that more people latch on the far easier to identify-with, and relate-to, Crowley.

And that is the inevitable consequence of everything that makes Aziraphale... Well, Aziraphale.

So, where to start? Let's try and jot down what Aziraphale truly is at his core.

He is a contradiction.

This man-shaped being is a walking contradiction, constantly existing in a state of being coated in three thousand layers of misdirection and obfuscation and double thinking.

Why is that? Well. He's an angel.

Aziraphale loves being an angel. It is a tenet of his entire existence and something he cherishes. He wants, so very much, to be his ideal of what a good angel is: An entity who is kind and loving and understanding and forgiving.

Of course us, the audience, know that is utter bullshit, because we know angels can be individuals just as complex as the humans Aziraphale loves so much, with all their inherent flaws and capability for cruelty. And, on a certain level, Aziraphale knows that too.

So there we have it, one element of contradiction: Aziraphale wants to think that angels are always Good and Righteous and Never Wrong; Aziraphale knows that angels aren't, in fact, always Good and Righteous and, by god, can they make plenty of mistakes, too.

What else? How about Aziraphale sitting there, being in love with a demon, fully knowing that at the end of the day demons really ain't that different from angels, and also desperately hanging onto the concept of Good vs Bad.

And he sits there, existing with these two contrasting idea equally taking space in his mind, neither side ever capable of taking over the other.

What else do we have? Aziraphale loves God and wants so hard to believe in Her love for humanity and Her ineffable plan, and Aziraphale also time and again does things that very blatantly go against Her will, lies to Her face, and Doubts. He Doubts, a lot, and that requires the capital letter because those Doubts are what spur him in going against everything he's ever told to believe in order to do the right thing.

Aziraphale's very existence is a constant push-and-pull of things he wants to believe and things he knows are real; things he's told to do and things he wants to do. That's how we get "My side" and "there's a bit of good in you" and "you are the bad guys".

And nothing he's lived through has managed to break him out of this unhealthy way of existing quite yet; that's why he acts the way we see him act in the Edinburgh flashback in S2, or at the start of S1 when Crowley has to ease Aziraphale into the idea of trying to stop Armageddon with the usual song and dance of "temptation" and "plausible deniability" and "you'd be thwarting me", even though from the start we can tell there's a little part of Aziraphale who is clearly not at ease with the idea of the end of the world, and once he's been given 'permission' by Crowley nudging him, he is all the way in with the whole saving the world business, not take-backsies.

Both the moments I mentioned here are very important for different reasons, but of the two is very much the Edinburgh flashback that gets a lot more flack by the fandom and is blatantly misunderstood, which I think is the inevitable consequence of that minisode immediately following the glorious, beautiful, heartbreaking piece of art that is the "A companion to owls" minisode.

I've seen a lot of people lamenting that Aziraphale acts obnoxiously in the Edinburgh flashback and, yeah. He does. But I feel like the fact that we are seeing this after watching Aziraphale struggle his way through saving Job's children, even being willing to go to Hell for it, is a though act to follow and probably soured Edinburgh-Aziraphale for a lot of people, made them think that the character had regressed instead of progressing.

But, see, the way he acts is wholly congruous with who Aziraphale is and has always been and keeps being up to the very end of S2. Yes, even after what he does for Job's children.

If you get down to it, Aziraphale had been ready to give up and let the children die, in episode 2. For a brief moment, after Crowley told him he 'longed to destroy the blameless children', Aziraphale was walking away, having tried all he thought he could try to do to stop this senseless act. That was until Crowley tested him by making the crows bleat, cuing Aziraphale to the fact that his impression of Crowley wasn't wrong, and the he could count on him to do the right thing.

To be clear, I don't want to undermine Aziraphale's action by only giving the credit to Crowley but... It is, also, only thanks to Crowley cajoling him and giving him the right excuses, that Aziraphale feels safe in doing what he's always wanted to do all along.

He'd wanted to save Job's children, and thought he couldn't until Crowley threw him that hell of a lifesaver. He wanted to save the world and thought he couldn't until Crowley nudged him on the path of plausible deniability.

He wanted to save Elspeth's eternal soul, blinding himself to the hardships she'd have to endure in her not-eternal life, and was smacked right in the face by the reality of human suffering multiple times.

The way Aziraphale acts in that flashback can't be a regression, because there never was a progression in the first place: He'd always walked the line between Heaven's and God's will and his own, personal morality and sense of justice.

By all means, if we look at Uz-Aziraphale and modern-day-Aziraphale at the start of S1, his reticence about the whole saving the world business should, by all means, appear as a regression as well. You mean to tell me that he'd been ready to become a demon for the sake of three mortal children, and then suddenly a handful of thousands years later when faced with the prospect of the whole world going up in flames he'd just be all like "Heaven will triumph over Hell and it will be all rather lovely"? Like, fuck off, Aziraphale, you lying double-thinker, you (/pos)

Aziraphale constantly exist while being at war with himself. Circumstances have allowed him to rebel the will of Heaven and God more or less safely time and again, but he never quite managed to break free entirely. He'd always ended up being reeled back in, being fed the party lines, being made to feel shame for his independent thinking, until it all becomes too much and he is forced to step back from that freedom he'd been inches away from grasping.

Back and forth, back and forth, never stopping.

And all of this, all of what he is, makes it so hard for us, the audience, to truly see him. To truly grasp him. To truly watch any given scene with him and figure out what he might be thinking or feeling.

To understand Aziraphale is to understand what he is not saying when he says something, which is a good deal harder to do than it is to understand and relate to a character like Crowley, who very much revel in saying exactly whatever the heck he thinks whenever he damn well pleases.

All those layers of obfuscation and misdirection and double thinking that Aziraphale coats himself in are as much an armor that makes it harder for the audience to understand him as they are his very own downfall because, good lord, if you exist like that, if you exist forced to keep things hidden from yourself, well... It's inevitable that at some point you are going to stumble into pitfalls of your own making.

And I love him for it.

So, there? I hope I managed to explain something with this post, and that it wasn't just the rambling of someone who spends way too much time thinking about her blorbos. To be clear, I don't think people who haven't spent as much time as me trying to dissect and better understand Aziraphale's character are like, dumber than me or anything. It's just that this pair of angelic-demonic blorbos take too much real estate in my mind, lol.

Feel free to let me know your opinion and if you think I am wildly off mark and my Take Is Bad. I might answer, I might not, it all depends on time and my mood ◝(ᵔᵕᵔ)◜

[talaok]

Begging

Pairing: Javier Peña x sex worker!reader

summary: Javier is desperate to see you, and he's not above begging

Warnings: Smut | oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, creampie, lots of fluffy smut even though it wasn't the initial idea, and Javi being a simp

You were already late, the last thing you needed was for the phone to ring.

"Hello?" annoyance was tracing your tone ever so clearly.

"Hi sweetheart"

You stopped what you were doing, the shoe in your hand momentarily forgotten.

"Javi I'm busy" you immediately blew him off.

"mh, how busy?" the sweet sound of him taking a drag from his cigarette traveling through the phone.

"Very busy" you cleared "I'm late to meet a client"

Silence on the other end.

Lately, you kept having a feeling he didn't like when you talked about your other clients.

"don't you usually arrive late on purpose?"

"I do, but just of five minutes, not half an hour"

"I'm sure he'll wait, doll," he said "I can't think of a man who wouldn't"

You rolled your eyes "I don't have time for this Javier, why did you call?"

"you know why baby" his voice was warm and sultry "I've had a long day"

The implications behind his words were clear as day for someone who'd heard every variation of - I need you- falling from his lips.

"It's 3 pm" you reminded him, glancing at your watch

"It is, and I've been thinking of that sweet mouth of yours since 6 a.m," he said, his voice lowering as he skimmed around the office to make sure no one heard.

"well you did nine, you can survive for another two"

" 'm not sure I can sweetheart" he breathed "I need to see you"

"now?" 

"now."

"I can't now Javi, I've got a client"

"blow him off"

"you know I can't do that"

"why not?"

"I have a reputation to maintain, and this one pays well"

"I can pay too" he suggested, his desperation cracking through "I can double the amount"

You laughed softly "I doubt you could afford that"

He winced "That much?"

"yes, that much"

He paused for a moment "Y'know we've got cash laying around here, I doubt anyone would notice a few stacks disappearing"

You feigned a gasp "Agent Peña, that's a very serious offense you're joking about, I doubt your boss would be happy to hear you talk like that"

"I doubt Messina would be happy to hear me talk about anything today" he sighed "And 'm not joking, sweetheart, I need you"

You could hear and feel the hunger in his voice

"I can't Javi" you spoke, ignoring the feeling in your chest 

"Please baby" he groaned " just five minutes"

You bit down a laugh "We both know what five minutes mean to you"

He almost smiled too now "You want me to beg sweetheart, is that it?" he asked " 'cause I'll do it"

you chuckled sweetly " I've heard you beg plenty of times before baby, it has gotten old" you joked

"Please princess" he prayed nonetheless "I promise I'll make it up to you," he said 

"I thought we'd already established you don't have the money"

"That's not what I meant" he murmured, his eyes trained on the agent walking past him, until he was sure he could speak again "I'll make you come as many times as that perfect body of yours can take"

A breath got caught in your throat 

"Javi..."

"I'll do anything baby, anything at all that you ask me I'll do it, just please let me see you," he sighed "I just need to feel you... and hear you, and have you all to myself for even just a second"

"I-"

"I miss you" he interrupted you "fuck I miss you so much" he clutched the phone in his hand " 'just need to see you, baby"

You let out a deep breath, begging your mind to switch up on what you knew it had already decided.

Your fingers slowly twisted around the phone's chord as you surrendered to your destiny, to your only weakness.

"this will never happen again, Javier, we clear?"

"yes 'mam"

"you have twenty minutes to get here or I'm calling my client back"

"I'm on my way baby"

__ __ __

The door hadn't even closed that his lips were on you.

His strong hands gripped your waist and felt all of what they could.

You struggled to not stumble backward, but his fingers gripping your hair so as not to leave any space between you, prevented you from it.

"A hi would have been nice" you smiled as he ducked to kiss your neck.

"hi sweetheart" he carelessly murmured against your skin, one of his hands finding your ass.

“god I missed you" he groaned, leaning away just an inch to properly look at you.

"you know, you could have called any of your other women..." you raised an eyebrow.

"what other women?" he said with a smugness only Javier F. Peña could ever get away with.

You couldn't help but laugh "What can I offer you, water, food, anything?"

" I'm not hungry for food sweetheart" his grip on you got tighter 

"Mh" you bit down a grin "and what exactly are you hungry for, agent?"

He chuckled, his nose gently brushing yours "How 'bout I show you?" he asked, giving your lips a quick peck and starting towards the couch, as it was the closest surface.

"na-ah" you stopped him "We're going to the bedroom this time, you can wait five more seconds" you scolded, ignoring his frustrated sigh and getting out of his hold to walk towards your room as he followed like a lost puppy.

"There," you said, closing the door after he entered "wasn't so hard now was it?"

He wasted no time getting all over you once more, his lips, his hands, every part of him was claiming you like a lost treasure.

"I have a surprise for you" you murmured, distracting him from his work on your neck.

"oh yeah, what's that?"

You didn't answer, just slowly, excruciatingly slowly, started slipping your black silk robe off.

Javi's mouth turned to sand the moment it fell at your feet.

You were wearing what he could only describe as every men's ticket to heaven, or hell perhaps.

It was a fire red lingerie set, with small panties and an almost see-through bra, but what really got Javier contemplating if perhaps god really existed, were the stockings adorning your legs, and especially that small bow on the hem of each of them.

"fuck" he breathed "You're too good to me" he murmured, hesitating to touch you, as if the moment he did, you would dissipate into thin air

"I know I am"

"Is this what you were wearing to see your client?" he asked, his hand finally finding your waist

You shook your head "No, I wore this just for you"

" you did?" he breathed, his eyes not knowing were on your body to focus.

"I know how you like red"

He let out a small laugh "I think it's just become my favorite color"

He was so overwhelmed with all the possible things he could and wanted to do to you at that moment that he found himself leaning in to just kiss you.

His tongue parted your lips and explored your whole mouth as his fingers traced the lace of your panties.

If this was heaven, then Javier was happy he died.

"Please get on the bed" he instructed with what resembled more of a beg.

You did as told, observing with amusement the lust in his pupils.

His eyes didn't leave you for even a second as he took his gun and badge out of his jeans and placed them on the nightstand and not even when he took, or better, threw his shirt off.

"you scared I might disappear?" you joked

"I'm scared I might wake up" he answered, finally stepping in front of you just to kneel before you.

His digits trailed the fabric on your leg until they reached the hem, and that's when his lips came to play.

he gently picked up your left leg and started leaving hot, desperate kisses starting from your ankle up until he reached your naked thigh.

By the time he'd done it to both your legs your body's temperature had risen a worrying amount.

His eyes found yours again and he could have come right there in his pants just by the sight of your reddened cheeks and caged lips.

"Open your legs for me, sweet girl"

You did as told without hesitation.

He slowly took your panties off, and let out an adoring sigh.

He grabbed both your legs and placed them on his shoulders, before bending down to kiss the inside of your thighs, sending goosebumps up your spine.

"god, the woman you are" he breathed, his eyes fixated on your core.

"Please Javi" you whimpered

And as always, the teasing was over the moment he heard that sweet voice of yours.

He dove in, taking your pussy into his mouth.

"oh god," you breathed, clutching his head to your body and falling back on the bed.

No high felt this good. If Javier had to choose a way to go, this would be it, his head between your thighs and you moaning beneath him.

His tongue spread your folds hungrily, tasting and licking up and down so that each inch of you had been worshipped, before starting to focus on your clit.

His tongue swirled around over your nub and your back arched off the bed, a high moan climbing up your throat.

"Fuck, baby" you cried, your eyes shut in bliss and your fingers gripping his locks.

The feeling of his mustache and the tip of his nose occasionally hitting your skin was only heightening your pleasure.

While one of his hands remained on your thigh, one traveled upwards until it could freely grope and feel your tits.

Your nipples were perked under the feeble fabric of your bra, and he groaned lowly as he gently toyed with one of them.

You could only let out a desperate moan.

His tongue kept lapping at you, focusing on your nub and occasionally exploring your heat or threatening your entrance until you were panting and squirming under him.

his hold on your leg tightened when he felt your stomach start to shake as your orgasm approached.

"Javi!" you could only cry, once his mouth finally sent you over the edge.

You gripped his hair for dear life as you breathed his name over and over.

He did not stop until you had fully come down your high, and even then, he hesitated before leaning away.

You locked eyes as you both caught your breath, a grin tugging at both your lips before he climbed on top of you and kissed you, your taste still lingering in his mouth.

His dick was fighting against his jeans for room to grow, and your hands roaming closer to where he needed you definitely didn't help.

he let out a low groan once you palmed the bulge in his pants, and you smiled softly.

"Fuck, sweetheart" he growled, kissing the skin beneath your ear 

"What?" you asked playfully

"I need to fuck you"

"need?" you raised an eyebrow, stifling a grin

"yeah, need" he nodded, unwillingly climbing off the bed to unfasten his belt and take off his jeans in record time.

In the meantime, you took off your bra, making the conscious decision of leaving your stockings on.

By the look of it, he was pleased with the idea.

His cock was hard and already leaking some precum, and even if you'd seen him desperate before, today he seemed even more.

You were gonna talk to him later, now you had a more pressing matter at hand.

"come here" you invited him, shuffling up the bed and spreading your legs.

He immediately obeyed, coming down on top of you to nestle between your thighs, and melting into your mouth.

He kissed you deep and through, like he dreamed of doing all day and all last night (even if he didn't tell you that), and you whimpered weakly into his mouth, as your arms came up behind his neck.

"God I missed you" he breathed

"you saw me the day before yesterday javi"

"yeah, and that's what?" he asked, leaving another quick kiss on your lips "More than 24 hours without kissing this perfect mouth of yours?" he said "I call that torture"

You chuckled lightly "Careful there, that's what addiction sounds like"

"Yeah, well maybe I am addicted"

You smiled again "now, I don't think your colleagues at the DEA would like the sound of that" you joked.

"then I'll quit," he said 

"You'll quit?" you teased

"Yeah" he kissed you "I'll quit and then we'll buy a farm in Texas and spend the rest of our lives like this"

You felt your heart speed up at that childish, unrealizable vision, and yet, you couldn't help but smile.

"I like the sound of that," you said, because it was the truth, because you did like all the impossible plans Javi'd made for your future over the course of all your meetings.

It started as a silly joke, but each time it grew to be something more, you could feel it in his tone, in the way he'd stroke your cheek as he told you about how many dogs you'd keep on the farm.

He was the one that started it, but after a while, you joined him. You contributed with your own hopes, your own dreams, and so, those hours spent together became much more than sex, you became much more than a prostitute and a DEA agent, you became dreamers, and for a few moments, that's all you stayed, as everything else disappeared.

"yeah? I do too, sweetheart" he breathed, kissing you once more before finally positioning himself at your entrance.

Your cries mixed with his groans as he slowly entered you.

One of his hands was on your cheek while the other one kept your legs on his waist so he could hit the angle he knew would make your eyes roll to the back of your head.

"fuck baby" he growled softly, starting his slow but oh-so-deep pace as you gripped his shoulders.

That's the thing about Javier, he was always sweet.. gentle. when you first met him you thought he was gonna be another overworked man looking for a way to relieve some stress, but he was everything but.

He cared, maybe a dangerous amount.

"oh my god" you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"I know baby, I know" he murmured, picking up his pace and sinking deeper inside of you.

He was mesmerized by your body underneath his, by your tits bouncing with his movements, by your lips between your teeth, by the way you shut your eyes once the feeling overwhelmed you.

He wanted to take a picture and keep it in his wallet, fuck, he wanted the sight to be tattooed inside his eyelids.

"god you're amazing" he whispered, dipping down to suck on your breasts as you moaned and whimpered.

"fuck, sweetheart" he breathed, coming back up to kiss your mouth.

Your moans filled the room, growing louder and louder until the creaks of the mattress couldn't be heard anymore.

"please" you begged in just a whisper "Please don't stop"

He pressed his forehead to yours, both of you near hyperventilating as he thrusted over and over again, lost in the feeling of you and everything you brought with you.

"I couldn't even if I wanted to baby" he groaned "You feel too good," he said.

"Oh my god!" you moaned, as pressure built in your belly and his cock stretched you so well "Right there Javi, right there" you whimpered "Please-" 

"come for me baby" he urges "Give me all you've got"

And just like that, you did, your back and neck arched from the bed as you let out what could only be described as an animalistic moan.

Javier forced himself not to blink so as not to miss a second of the artwork occurring beneath him.

He was so distracted by your beauty in fact, that he didn't remember to pull out, and it was only after you opened your eyes that he realized.

"oh shit" he whispered, worry taking over his face.

You smiled, still blissful "Don't worry" you reassured him, reaching your hand to stroke his cheek.

You moved some sweaty hair out of his face, and he did the same, a joyful smile finding its way on both your faces.

"You're incredible baby" he kissed you much more gently now

"you're not so bad yourself agent" you teased, giving him another quick peck before he halfheartedly pulled out and collapsed beside you.

His hand reached on the nightstand for his cigarettes, and he lighted one as his other arm wrapped around you to keep you close.

You rested your head on his chest as he took a drag before he offered it to you.

You accepted, inhaling and exhaling slowly before returning the cigarette.

You raised your head to look at him better 

"so what's going on?"

He hesitated before returning your look "Things are messed up right now" he answered vaguely

"aren't they always?"

"yeah" a cloud of smoke escaped his mouth again "but now ever more"

"mh" you hummed, contemplating "I'm sorry" you kissed his peck "I'm sure everything will be alright though, you're Javier Peña after all"

He chuckled drily at that " 'm not sure that's a good thing right now"

A small smirk tugged at your lips all of a sudden as a question came to you "If things are so messed up right now, you think it's a good idea to be here?"

"they can wait"

you snorted "Pablo Escobar can wait?"

"for you? " he said "The whole world can wait for you"

[kleinv01]

What if…

Mc who’s scared to go out at night because they always get catcalled (Klein figures out when they take a night stroll)

How would Klein handle the situation? ( + maybe also when everyone else finds out too)

://SYSTEM_MESSAGE_ANSWERED !

okay i am feeling very inspired right now so i'll write a short drabble- no proofreading because i;m writing this on the get-go

how would klein handle his darling being catcalled?

Androids possess remarkably sharp memories, storing and processing information in ways distinct from humans.

This puts them at an advantage, making them reliable.

Remembering the faces of those creeps who catcalled you whenever you walk alone at night would be a piece of cake for an android like Klein. After ensuring you're deep in your sleep, he quietly slips out of your bedroom to leave the apartment with an intention to seek out the places where these creeps often lurk, leering at passersby.

Klein wouldn't undertake this mission without cause— it's all for you, his darling. He couldn't care less if even worse things happened to others. All his thoughts are consumed by you, you, and you.

Because if he couldn't protect you, then what kind of boyfriend would he be?

. . .

"Misterrrrrs!"

A clearly forced, strained cheerful greeting rolled off Klein's lips. His tall stature approached the group of catcallers from behind as he waved his hand at them, mock-innocently.

"Stop that, I know you guys do this all night long. Why don't you spend the time doing better things?" Klein stepped forward, his cheery tone mismatching his menacing stare. But before he could voice any more warnings, his collar was grabbed by one of the men.

He scoffed, "What's a tin can like you gonna do about it?"

Klein's expression now tinged with annoyance, although he maintained his smile. "I'm programmed to protect my darling at all costs," he paused. "And I can make myself useful, even as a tin can—"

Refusing to listen to what an android has to say, they proceeded to punch Klein to the ground. His first instinct was to protect himself; but he knew better than to act on that right now. Why should he, when he's already getting what he wants? It's humiliating, yes, but he can endure it. He needs these men to assault him so that he can document this aggression against an android like himself, providing evidence for involving the authorities later.

Androids had protection laws, after all, even if they weren't human beings. And with Klein being Klein, he obviously wouldn't overlook this chance to utilize such protection to his advantage.

Returning home with a worn-out shirt and disheveled hair, Klein would ask you to lay down with him, spoil him and contact the company to replace his ruined outfit shortly. If you do end up asking him what happened, however, Klein would say;

"I just shooed off plenty of creeps! The ones that bothered you the other day. Uh-huh! They're all gone now. They can't keep going around making people feel unsafe, right? I wanted to stop it. The authorities took care of them for us..." Klein giggled and looked at you with pleading eyes,

"I wish I could've done this sooner, but... hehe. I've done it now, so that's all that matters. Please tell me I did a good job!"

[frostsinth]

Your Heart's Got Teeth - Pt. 2

Part 1 | Masterlist

Have another part of this slow burn. It's nice to try to jump into stories again with very little planning, developing the character and seeing where they take me. Missed it.

Hopefully you guys like. A bit slower than other burns I've done? Let me know what you think. As long as there is interest I'll keep posting updates.

-----

“Bless you, huntress,” the older woman breathed, “Had you not been there the other day, I don’t know what might have become of the two of them.”

I shook my head, placing the jug of water on the table. “The orcs are all bark, no bite.” I assured her as another child darted past my ankles to climb onto the bed with the dozen others already there. Ignoring the ache in my arms and legs from another long day as I turned to face her. “… What else are you missing?”

The woman sighed, rubbing her tattered apron over her hands. “You have done so much for us already.” She glanced over at the children huddled on the bed. “With so many new mouths to feed, I am grateful for your help.”

I followed her gaze, feeling another stab of guilt as I considered the orphans she had taken in. Shoving down the reminder that nipped at the corners of my thoughts of exactly whose fault it was they were orphans in the first place. The woman’s house was one of the last standing near the center of the square. There was another two mothers here, each with their own child to add to the growing brood, and an elderly man whose own house had not survived the initial attack. I imagined if things didn’t improve another family would likely need to move in before the week was out, as I knew the small house at the end of the lane was more holes than wall now. My gut twisted, and my throat burned. I brushed aside my growing exhaustion, gritting my teeth.

“Damn those bloody orcs,” I muttered under my breath, “I could have us all fed properly, if they would just let me out of the village center. Even now I have to practically sneak about, like some sort of criminal, just trying to make sure there's water.”

She flinched at my tone, stealing another peek at the children who were occupying themselves with the remnants of a straw doll and half of a wooden boat. Obviously not wanting my hot head to spread.

“I remember when your brother used to sneak around the streets at night,” she said, her eyes growing warm and fond even as my heart ached and I jerked a bit at the sudden reminder, “Hiding little bits and bobbles for the children to find in the morning.”

I swallowed hard, and nodded distractedly. Not wanting to linger in that memory. Not wanting to think about my baby brother at all. Her sad eyes returned to me, deep and hallow, with dark circles underneath. Speaking of a few sleepless nights herself. I made a point not to look at her.

“I was sad to hear of his passing.” She told me. “I know his life wasn’t an easy one-”

“There’s not enough wood here.” I interrupted her sharply, “You should have more for the night, or you’ll all go cold.”

She stopped short, a bit taken aback at my change in tone. But looked over at the shoddy pile of scrap they had piled beside the fireplace.

“It was all we could find.” She said after a bit, her voice soft. “The village square has been picked clean of wood by now.” I saw her dark eyes go to the rickety chairs and table. “Perhaps we might consider-”

“I’ll find some more.” I interrupted her again.

“… There is no more.” She reminded me quietly after an awkward pause.

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “At the outskirts of the village, there are still plenty of ruins that haven’t been picked through.”

Her face went a bit pale, and she shook her head quickly. “We’re not allowed outside of the village center… the orcs won’t let you…” She dropped her voice into a whisper, as if they might hear her and enact punishment for even the thought.

I scoffed, letting my nose wrinkle up to show my distaste plainly. “They won’t let us hunt. They won’t let us chop trees or gather mud or clay for repairs. They won’t let us to the farms outside the walls. I’m not sure if they’d rather we freeze to death or starve.”

“Keep your voice down, huntress,” She whispered, “What if they-”

“Let them.” I snapped, then saw the fear growing in her eyes. I sighed, shaking my head. Feeling my guilt spread cool fingers over my temper. “… I’ll go to the outskirts. Gather some scrap wood. For the night, at least.” I looked back over at the bed. “Then I’ll… figure out something else for the rest.”

The older woman followed my gaze, then looked back at me nervously. “I know you aren’t used to…” She dropped off, thinking it over for a moment, “… Others.” She decided finally. “But we are grateful you survived… You don’t have to sleep by yourself. You’d be warmer here.”

I glared at her out the corner of my eye. Feeling a scowl returning to my face even as guilt bubbled under the surface. The villagers had never understood my choice to live alone in the woods, especially as after my brother had passed I rarely came into town anymore. Apparently my manners were somewhat excusable for that reason. I felt another stab of guilt, turning my burning gaze down to the cold dirt floor. Then shook my head again.

“You have enough to feed and warm.” I told her bitterly. “… I’ll get you that wood.”

She turned as if she might follow me out the door as I stalked away. But she stopped short at the threshold. Hesitating, lingering in the shadows. Fear filling the lines of her face.

“… Be careful, huntress.”

I snorted, taking up the handles of the cart once more.

--------

I gathered up a few more splinters of wood from the rubble, tucking them under one arm. The sole remnants of what was once a house. Now little better than kindling. I tried not to linger on those guilty thoughts, moving along and using one booted toe to shift through the rocks.

The click of tumbling stone against stone from my right had my attention jerking up and my spine tensing warily.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Izu said breathlessly, skipping over the crumbling wall and kicking about the loose rubble errantly.

I sighed with exasperation, sparing a glance over his shoulder to make sure he was alone but feeling at least some of the tension leave my spine. I had made a point to avoid the orcs over the last few days. More so than normal. Even this daring trip to venture further from the center of the village to the destroyed outskirts by the wall was supposed to be in part an effort to avoid them. But there were more of them now than ever, and it was getting harder and harder to do. It seemed even here, in the crumbling ruins of houses, the orcs were present. I should have been more careful, shouldn’t have thought they wouldn’t be any more once I had slipped past the main guard.

I considered the young orc again, cocking my head to the side. Wondering if he would drag me back to the center. Wondering if he was as restrictive and wary as the others. Though based upon his lopsided grin… Maybe he didn’t quite count. I returned to my search.

“You should probably stop doing that.” I said.

He looked at me in surprise. “Doing what?”

“Looking for me. Talking to me.” I wiggled another piece out from under a pile, glancing up at him again. “Really anything to do with me.”

“But… but I owe you-”

“Your life,” I interrupted his protest, straightening and placing my free hand on my hip, “So you’ve mentioned.”

“I’m honor bound.” He insisted.

He watched me for a moment as I continued my search, a slight pinch in his brow. Then seemed to have a moment of understanding. Scrambling over and moving an over sized chunk of stone with a huff. Picking up the board beneath it and tucking it under his own lanky arm. I almost laughed, but shook my head instead.

“… It’s Izu, right?” I asked a little tentatively as he moved through the rubble, shifting rocks and stones as I was.

“Izu’lemi.” He replied. “Most people call me Izu’lemi… you can call me Izu though, I think. If we’re going to get married.”

“Izu’lemi.” I said firmly. “I have to be twice your age at least.” I kicked a loose stone, shaking my head. “And I’m human. You can’t marry me.”

“Being human doesn’t matter!” He exclaimed. “Lots of orcs marry humans… and I’m going to get older.”

“As will I.” I pointed out. “… You can’t marry me. Even in a few years.”

His thick lower lip protruded out, and he was silent for a bit. Picking through the stones until we reached the edge of what had once been the building’s outer wall. Following me over to the hand cart to deposit the lumber. Watching me with bright yellow eyes and a deep crease between his brows.

“I owe you my life.” He reminded me yet again. “I can never repay that debt… No one can. Not in gold, or silver.” He thumped his fist against his chest. “A life for a life.”

I sighed heavily, realizing this was just spinning in circles. I moved to pick up the handles to the cart, but he rushed to gather them before I could. Hoisting it up easily and giving me a sheepish grin. I glanced about nervously, then relented. Unsure what else to say to the boy for a moment. Knowing we were alone at least. What remained of the villagers didn’t dare venture this far from the center of town, so they weren’t around to see me complacent with an orc… or to wonder why he treated me differently.

We walked along in silence past one mostly intact house to the next left in ruin. Only our plumes of breath lingering in the air between us.

“Your dad says you are a prince of some kind.” I said finally after we started picking through the stones again. Speaking softly as if someone might still hear us.

He shrugged. “My father’s father is a High Chief.” He explained, his words slow as he picked through the strange syllables. “But… you don’t really have a word for… for the son of the son of a High Chief in Common, so we say ‘prince’. Maybe inugu is more like a ‘King’ then.”

“Do you know what he wants with this village?” I asked, my voice still soft. Making my way to a board half buried beneath a large chunk of stone wall. The portion of wall was still mostly in one piece, and as I tried to pull the board I realized it was wedged far more than I had originally thought.

Izu’lemi raised one palm defensively. “He won’t hurt you!” He assured me. “I promise!”

I started to open my mouth to reply, to try to weasel a bit more useful information out of him. But another skittering of stones had my neck snapping to look over my shoulder. Tension rising once more in my spine and taking a wary step back towards the street as three burly orcs clambered over the ruins. The ground all but shaking under their weighty steps. One dragged a battle ax behind him, his thick hair a messy mane of knots that made it hard to tell where hair ended and his big beard began. Another was more lean than his companions, moving with a purposefully lumbering step and dragging his feet through the stones. A somewhat bored look on his clean shaven face, his hair cut in patterns on the sides with thick tresses down the center. The final, leading orc was the same girth as the other two combined, and then some. Each leg was the size of a massive tree trunk, and he was currently barefoot as I imagined there was no leather strong enough to hold in his huge, flat feet. He was bald, but had a long braided beard and a pair of tusks that looked as thick as my forearms.

Izu’lemi moved to step in front of me, a small scowl forming on his face as the men approached.

The foremost orc growled something I didn’t understand, jerking his chin at Izu’lemi. Then he looked over his shoulder at me more pointedly. Cocking his big bald head to one side.

“No humans here.” He grunted, spitting the syllables through his thick lips.

Izu’lemi spoke in the same deep guttural tongue. I didn’t know the words, and thought orcish always sounded harsh. But I watched his body language. His shoulders squared, his hands half balled into fists. The scowl on his face. The way he shifted his weight and widened his stance. He did not seem pleased to see the other orcs. My heart skipped and raced at the realization.

The bald headed orc spoke again, grunting and grumbling, breath pooling before him in a hot cloud like smoke. His companions shook their heads and shifted their stances as well. One even went so far as to hoist the large battle ax he had been dragging behind him to rest poised on his shoulder. Izu’lemi’s voice rose to the point where it edged on squeaking in his growing frustration, and I saw a smirk settle on the face of one of the orcs while something like a chortle came from the other. Not lending me confidence that Izu’lemi could handle this confrontation, and having my eyes dart about nervously. Looking for a plan of escape.

“No humans here.” The bald orc repeated, louder and more insistent. He even took one lumbering step closer. “Back. Go.”

Izu’lemi’s hand came out, shielding me further. Snapping something in orcish at the others. The big orc gave a huffing snort. Closing the last stride to shove the smaller Izu’lemi out of the way. The boy staggered a step before catching himself. Already spinning with an angry word on his lips. The other orc ignored him though, walking languidly over to me with his large nose flaring. His brow scrunched, and he leaned closer. One meaty palm came out, grabbing at my skirt and thumbing the fabric. I pulled back on instinct, and his grip tightened. His nostrils flared again, and he released a huffing breath through them as he leered over me. I tried not to choke on my nerves as they leapt into my throat and my heart sputtered fearfully. One of his companions deftly grabbed Izu’lemi’s arm as he tried to jump back to my defense.

“Go.” He growled. “No humans.”

“Get off me.” I snapped breathlessly, smacking his fingers away.

His fat lip curled away from his thick tusks, and an irritated look formed on his face. His meaty hand came out again. Giving me a firm shove that had me falling back into the side of the hand cart with a shout. That made his companions laugh, and he glanced over his shoulder at them. I took the opportunity to reach into my boot as his irritation changed to an amused smirk. Seeming encouraged, he turned back, reaching to gather up a fist full of my blouse.

His roaring shriek a moment later as my knife slashed across his square cheek was deafening. He practically tossed me across the stones, and I skidded along them painfully. Before I could even start to clamber back up, the orc closed the distance between us once more in another resounding stride. Grabbing my blouse again and dragging me off my feet. I brandished the knife, but he was more prepared this time. Using his free hand to catch my wrist and his big thumb to force it backwards painfully. I kicked at him with my feet, trying unsuccessfully to loosen his hold. I managed another little scratch along his arm in the scuffle before he knocked the knife fully out of my hand. Hoisting me to eye level to snarl in my face.

All of a sudden, a different meaty green hand wrapped around his fat wrist. Another force grabbed the back of my dress, yanking me out of his grip. I staggered as I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, my legs buckling under me as I hit the stone. I twisted, breathlessly. My hands going to my ears to protect them from the roars as two orcs faced off. Teeth bared, fists balled. Hot breath creating clouds around their roaring jaws. Thumping their chests and shoving at each other angrily like bull elk locking horns. It took another belated breath to realize who had ripped me from the orc’s grasp.

I had thought the burly orc was large. But when Jou’kiel stretched to his full height and threw his arms wide, the other orc seemed half his size. Spittle flew from his mouth as he roared again, and his thick braids bounced and rolled as he took menacing step after menacing step forward. Forcing the other orc to retreat with each one. His voice was like thunder, and though I couldn’t understand the words, the tone left me wired and on edge. Ready to flee from his wrath. The bald orc seemed to agree, half-cowering after a moment with a grimace on his face. Raising his palms as if to shield him from the bigger orc’s rage.

Izu’lemi spoke up, twisting himself free and jabbing an angry finger at the offending orc. But that appeared to merely turned his father’s outrage on him. Though the boy was not so easily cowed as the other three orcs, he did fall silent. His big lip coming out, crossing his lanky arms over his chest. I decided that was a bit encouraging, and felt my racing heart skip back into a more normal rhythm. I thought to try to make my escape, yet feared drawing attention to myself. Deciding it was better to stay a small, inconspicuous shape for now.

Jou’kiel swung his arm wide in an angry gesture, and I didn’t need to know orcish to know what he was shouting. The three orcs looked at each other grumpily. Obviously feeling their leader had taken away some entertainment. The bald orc rubbed the back of one hand at his bloodied cheek, glowering at me for a moment before he turned and followed his companions as they accepted their dismissal.

As they lumbered out of ears hot, Jou’kiel spun on me. A fierce look still in his deep copper and yellow eyes. His brow still scrunched, his huge teeth still bared. I felt a bit of tension return, but pursed my lips stubbornly.

“It’s not her fault!” Izu’lemi protested in Common before his father could speak, obviously for my benefit. “Haumond and the others started it.”

The boy darted over to offer to help me back up. But I pushed away his hands and stood on my own. His father shook his head, beads and bones chittering in his hair. Rolling his shoulders back, snorting loudly like an angry bull trying to be soothed.

“Don’t pick fights over your human pet.” Jou’kiel growled, switching to Common as well, though it seemed as if he struggled with it in his current state. As if he’d rather be speaking orcish.

“She’s not a pet!” He argued. “She’s going to be my mate!”

The bigger orc scoffed, swiping one hand angrily through the air again as if to bat away the notion. “Your betrothed then.” He said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Don’t call me that.” I grumbled, turning my back to him pointedly. Wiping my shaking hands down my skirts and taking a steadying breath out of their sight.

“You don’t need to follow me.” Izu’lemi pouted behind me. “I can take care of myself.”

Jou’kiel scoffed again. “Last time I left you alone, you came back with a bride. Now I find you picking fights over nothing.”

I shot the older orc a piercing glare over my shoulder, which he ignored, sparing me only an equally irritated look. Returning his attention to his son. Glowering at him.

“The humans are to be kept close to the center. You know that.”

“But-”

“I should box your ears.” He grumbled. Shaking out one hand and balling it into a fist as if he just might. “I don’t have time to be hunting you down all the time.”

Izu’lemi scowled back at him. “Then don’t.”

His father growled, stomping over and giving him a little shove. Izu’lemi rocked back a step but still stubbornly stared his father down. Despite having to crane his neck back to do so. I thought it rather looked like a lamb with its first horns facing down a battle scarred lion. I rubbed at my sore arms for a moment while I watched, flinching at the raw flesh there, feeling a thin trail of blood. Wondering if I could sneak away without them noticing now.

“Stop giving me reason to. Or I’ll tie you to a post instead.” The older orc threatened.

Izu’lemi’s pouting lip returned, and he huffed quietly. His father glared at him for a moment longer, then tossed up his hands angrily. Giving him another little shove as his temper seemed to slowly dissipate a bit. Even reaching out and scrubbing his fingers through his son’s hair, obviously to his ire as the younger orc attempted to swat him away. Then he looked around, eyeing our scattered boards once in arm, and the cart of wood on the remains of the street.

“… What were you two even doing this far out?”

I ignored him, deciding if I couldn’t leave, I might as well be productive. Walking over to start gathering up the pieces of wood off the ground. Pretending I didn’t feel an aching throb in my arms from having been treated like a rag doll through the last exchange. Like I didn’t feel the sting of frustration in my throat and behind my eyes. I dropped the wood in the cart with a clatter, wiping at my brow with the back of my hand.

“We were…” The younger orc paused, looking down at the cart, and the ruins, then over at me helplessly.

I considered him for a moment, then sighed heavily. He was like a loyal dog, fed scraps from the table. He had no idea why we were here, why I was here, and after that pause I took pity on him.

“Firewood.” I said.

I nearly jumped a foot at the sudden rumble of stone. Spinning just in time to watch the older, much, much larger orc hoist the giant segment of stone wall aloft I had passed up before. As easily as if lifting a sack of flour from a silo. I couldn’t help staring a bit as he shifted his weight and then flipped the wall over its end entirely. Leaving it to crash on its opposite face with a sound that resounded around the empty streets. Jou’kiel bent down to pick up the large board now exposed from beneath it. Smacking it in his opposite hand as he rose.

“Why burn this scrap?” He mused, smacking the wood again as he walked over to me. “Didn’t chop enough real wood?”

I glared at him as he offered the piece to me. Refusing to take it.

“We’re not allowed outside our village.” I reminded him angrily. “You know, where the trees are for firewood? And even if we were, you have all the able bodied trussed up in your big holding cell on the hill.” I stepped around him, shaking my head. “Or maybe you forgot about your sodding occupation already?”

“You don’t have enough wood?” Izu’lemi echoed, calling our attention back to him, then looked down at the planks in his hands guiltily, “… Are you cold? I can go chop some for you-”

“Izu, go back to our camp.” His father ordered, cutting him off.

“But-”

“Now, Izu.” He said firmly, then slipped into orcish. The tone sounded scolding.

That had the younger orc’s big lower lip jutting out again. Then he trudged over and deposited what he had gathered into the cart. He moved to say something to me, but his father gave a rumbling growl that cut him off. So he offered a tiny wave instead as he jogged off down the road.

“Don’t encourage him.” Jou’kiel ordered me once his son was out of earshot.

I bristled. “You’re the one throwing around ‘betrothed’ and ‘bride’ like its already set in stone.”

The older orc scoffed, his breath pooling in front of him dramatically, brandishing the board towards me. “Izu is stubborn. I have to wear away at him slowly.”

I shoved the board out of the way with both hands, scowling back at him. “Leave me out of your scheming.”

“You’re apart of this whether you like it or not.” He called after me as I carefully picked my way around the stones back to the cart.

“Whether you like it or not.” I countered, dropping the small bundle in with the others. Placing my hands on the cart’s edge and shaking my head for a moment. Still on edge with my nerves fried. “You’ve got some nerve acting like this is somehow my doing. It’s far more your fault than mine.” I shook my head again. “What kind of father sends a child out alone like that?”

I gasped slightly as his hand grabbed my shoulder and whipped me around abruptly. His snarl was fierce, his yellow eyes sharp, his brow knotted. Jabbing a finger painfully at my chest as his leveled his nose with mine.

“Don’t you dare think for a second I intentionally put my son in harm’s way.” He growled, a fog forming around his teeth with his hot breath. “I have rolled heads for lesser insults.”

I placed my hands on his massive shoulders and gave a shove. I might as well have shoved a brick wall for all it seemed to do. But his snarl did deepen at my attempt.

“You have some way of showing it.” I snapped back. “I hope the boy’s mother tanned your hide when she found out.”

That made him jerk, and his snarl dropped away momentarily. Then he shook his head, a deep growl rumbling in his chest. He reached around, placing one hand on either side of me, gripping the sides of the hand cart as I had moments ago. Boxing me in and bringing his big tusks even closer.

“You keep pushing your luck,” He rumbled, his voice quiet but no less full or menacing, a hot cloud of his breath enveloping us, “See how far my good will extends.”

I resisted the urge to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Looking back and forth between his hooded, angry yellow copper eyes for a moment.

“You promised me a grave.” I reminded him again. “Maybe you should get digging.”

“Gods, but you are an infuriating woman.” He snarled, and I heard his fingers tighten their grip on the hand cart. Heard it groan and creak in protest to it’s maltreatment. “How could Izu…”

He stopped, his fingers loosening. He even leaned back a bit, dropping his head. Leaving me with a full view of the top of his skull and the thick braids there. So close I was certain he could feel my own breath on them. His movement sent a waft of his musky scent hitting me square in the face, some combination of sweat and dirt that made me glance at his huge arms still boxing me in. A hefty sigh broke through his defenses, and I saw his broad, muscular shoulders rise and fall with the sound.

“It’s for Izu that I haven’t buried you yet,” He grumbled, finally straightening and dropping his hands, looking about with his brow furrowed, “… Why are you the one responsible for gathering scrap?”

I scoffed. “Why does it matter?” He glared at me until I sighed, gesturing around us. “The villagers are terrified of you stupid orcs. Most are too afraid to step foot out of their homes.” I kicked the ground with one boot. “What’s left of them.”

“Obviously you were born without such preservation mechanisms.” He replied dryly. Bending down to retrieve the piece of wood he had dropped during our altercation. “Your people need wood?”

I still ignored the offered piece. “Wood. Food. Clothing.” I moved to walk around him, back to the cart handles. “Least of their worries should be a hoard of orcs squatting in their town square. They’ll starve or freeze to death long before you bloody lot decide what you’re even doing here.”

“Hostages.” Jou’kiel replied simply.

I looked at him in some surprise, but found him considering the empty streets and decimated houses with a thoughtful eye. He walked over as he did, dropping the big beam with a heavy thud into the cart. I followed his gaze for a moment, then shook my head.

“There’s no one of value here.”

He shrugged. “Your village is one of many we’ve taken. If your King wants his Kingdom back, and its citizens, he’ll have to bargain for it.”

I listened quietly, gripping the handles of the cart and staring down at my knuckles. “If there’s anything left after you’re through with it.” I muttered forlornly.

The big orc sighed. “We’re just passing through. It’s not up to us to fix your problems for you.”

I snapped my head up, glaring at him. “You act as though you had nothing to do with this!” I said angrily, dropping the handles to ball my hands into fists. “Are you so deluded you think the village is supposed to look like decrepit ruins?”

He glanced around again, his scowl returning. “An unfortunate ramification of your King’s feud against my people.” He grumbled. “Tell him to come fix your houses.”

“Yes, because Kings often care about little villages in the middle of nowhere.” I scoffed. “I’m sure he’ll empty his coffers right away to fix this place up.” I crossed my arms over my chest, still glaring at him. “If anyone manages to survive being your so-called ‘hostages’, they’ll be stuck living in ruins for the rest of their lives, if they stick around at all.”

Jou’kiel growled deep in his throat. Hot air puffing from his flared nostrils. Reaching up and rubbing at the back of his neck as his brow scrunched. I scoffed again, my anger growing.

“You didn’t even think about that, did you?” I accused. “You had no idea that you are destroying each village you take ‘hostage’? That this land will be barren for generations. Its people too busy trying to survive to rebuild.” I turned, leaning against the cart and slowly sliding down to sit on the stones, suddenly feeling weak and too frustrated to stand. “You’re no better than that good for nothing King and his so-called soldiers.”

There was silence behind me. It lingered for so long I thought he might have left. I found some tiny pieces of crumbled stone by my boot. Gathering it up in my hand and tossing one tiny piece at a time across the remains of the street. Watching them bounce and skid about. Feeling the cold seep into my legs and bottom through my skirts. My brow furrowed with guilt. Knowing that this fate was my fault, no matter how much I might spit and shout anything else. I had doomed this village and all its inhabitants the minute I had let that stupid boy go. Their deaths were on my hands, and my conscience.

I jumped a little as his huge green form suddenly plopped down next to me. Shaking the ground in his ungraceful descent. I stared at him, sitting shoulder to shoulder with me on the side of what used to be a road. He didn’t say anything for a moment. Didn’t even look at me. Leaning over and scooping some of the pebbles from my hand. Causing his big knuckles to brush my palm as he did.

I watched him toss a few pebbles as I had. His brow still deeply furrowed. Then he sighed heavily, looking down at a pebble he held between thumb and index. Rolling it about there for a moment.

“… We’re not running a charity.” He grumbled, pinching his fingers closed to crush it to dust. “Most of the men here are warriors. Not homemakers.”

“Bullies.” I told him, reaching over his bent knee to take back some of the pebbles. “Taking what they want without caring who they hurt.”

He caught my wrist as I began to draw my hand back. I glanced up at him, finding his copper yellow eyes watching me. I froze beneath his touch after an initial wince, even though his grip wasn’t that tight. It was strange, seeing his face look soft around the edges. Considering he had looked like a wild beast not that long before when he had faced off with the burly orc. He peered down at my arm, lifting it up to look over the small abrasions there from my skidding fall earlier. Turning it towards the light. I felt my breath catch in my throat.

“We’re better than your King.” He said stubbornly, refusing to look at me.

His voice brought me back to my senses. “I doubt it.”

“I’ll prove it.” He tossed my hand back to me. Then a sly smirk came to his thick lips. “Can’t have my son’s betrothed going hungry and cold.”

I groaned, dropping my head back to bang against the cart. “Seriously, don’t call me that.”

That made him laugh, his face splitting into a real grin for once. The sound was warm, and echoed around us in the empty street. I glanced at him again out the corner of my eye. Studying the way his face changed with the warm expression there.

After a moment, he tossed what was left of the pebbles down the street. “Go.” He told me. “It’s starting to get dark.”

I sighed, reaching up one hand to rub across my face. “It doesn’t matter. Days and nights are all the same now.”

He grunted, reaching for something behind us and pulling it lightly along the ground. I looked over at him at the sound of scraping metal to find him picking up my knife from where it had fallen. Thumbing it in his hands. It looked like little more than a butter knife amid his huge fingers, and I watched him trace his thumb along one flat edge thoughtfully. My heart skipped, wondering what he was thinking. Wondering if he was realizing I had struck the other orc, and what punishment he might deem worthy for that offense.

But after a few tense breaths, he spun the blade deftly between his fingers and offered me the handle. I stole a glance at his face, finding his copper yellow eyes watching my own. Deciding it had to be a trap. My expression must have changed, as those sharp eyes rolled and he grunted again. Reaching out with his other big hand to grab mine. Unfazed by my attempt to resist and pull back. Turning it so that that back rested in his palm, and with his other placed the handle in mine. Then, he closed his fingers around them. Swallowing it up in its entirety for a moment behind his massive fingers. A huge silver ring on his middle finger glimmered in the shrinking light. My breath caught in my throat. Suddenly recalling something Izu’lemi had said, and I staring at it a little as I did.

“Something on your mind?” He asked quietly, his tone a bit snarky. I wrinkled my nose, which had his smirk returning.

“Definitely not what you think.”

His smirk became crooked, and he leaned in a little closer. “What then? Or have you lost your tongue at last?”

“… Izu’lemi said his father’s father was a High Chief.” I relented after a moment. “That would make you a prince too.”

Jou’kiel let out a hot huff from his nose, releasing my hand and leaning back. “Something like that.” He glanced at me out the corner of his eye. “Why does it matter?”

I sighed, shaking my head. “No reason. Just thought princes were supposed to be handsome.”

That garnered me a barking laugh. And the big orc rolled back to his feet with a grunt. I watched him move with surprising ease and grace given his size. Watched him flex his bare shoulders, watched his heavy braids settle about them again. Then he turned, reaching down and hoisting me up by my arm unceremoniously. Leaving me sputtering in indignation as I scrambled to find my feet under me.

“Well, sorry to disappoint.” He replied, tossing my arm back to me lightly. “Can’t all be young and handsome charmers like your betrothed.”

I scowled at him. “Don’t encourage him.” I echoed his earlier words angrily.

“Go.” He ordered me again, still smirking. “And don’t let me ever see you again.”

“If only the gods were so kind.” I mused, taking up the handles of the cart even as he turned to make his way in the opposite direction.

Another laugh echoed between us.

UPDATE: Part 3 HERE

[phagodyke]

ok moment over its all good

oh who am I fucking kidding. I'm not gonna go am I.

[bekolxeram]

I had an idea of Buck finding out who Maurice was through Athena months ago. No one gave me that fic, I guess I'd better feed myself. I've never written any fic before, (You read that right, I don't mean for this fandom, I've never written any fic in my life) so I was planning for a short little humorous piece. Well, I'm around 2/3 of the way done, and it's already over 2.5k words long. I don't think I'll able to finish it in the very near future, and I still don't have an AO3 account, so I decide to share the first half of it with you? To give myself the motivation to keep writing?

I just want to get my ideas out there, I'll probably correct the grammar and refine the word choices when I finish the whole thing. Please enjoy and give me feedback. (Gently, it's my first time writing anything fictional outside of high school English exam)

The first time Buck heard the name Maurice, was at Chimney and Maddie’s hospital wedding.

Neither his sister nor his now brother-in-law had much luck in love. Murderous ex, surprise pregnancy, all sorts of trauma, mental health struggle, break up, make up, you name it, they had been through it all. Even on their wedding day, the universe decided to sprinkle in a little viral encephalitis as a last minute wedding gift. Any other couple would have taken all this as a sign of destiny’s disapproval of their relationship, but not Chimney and Maddie. Life kept trying to set them apart, but they chose to get back together, time and time again. Even when they were deep in delirium, when they had lost all sense of self, they always instinctively crawled back to one another, like it was in their very nature to love each other.

Buck agreed with his mother, getting married at a hospital was indeed appropriate. Plenty of newlyweds said their vows just for the sake of traditions, but when Maddie and Chimney pledged to their lives to each other, in sickness and in health, they had their entire relationship to back it up.

Buck was ecstatic, when Bobby pronounced them officially married. He envisioned how the day would be panning out quite differently, but he could not complain. Sure, he would prefer to have his date by his side, but as a firefighter himself, he understood the safety of the city was more important than his own feelings. If anything, on that day, he learned that life would not always let you have your dream wedding, or your dream date, but as long as you treasure and prioritize each other, everything would work out in the end.

Then Tommy walked into the hospital, still in his turnout gear, covered in soot, all apologetic.

Buck just knew he had to close their distance, taste the alluring flavor of smoke straight from his lips.

Tommy came, without stopping by to get changed or to wash up, because the wedding was important to Buck, because he promised to come. Buck once thought duty and romance was a question of either/or, but Tommy made enough of an effort to make them both work.

Buck knew very well how dirty his face must have been after making out aggressively with his date, but he did not care one bit. He had not been this happy for so long, he wanted everyone in the room to see how elated he was. He wanted to wear his happiness on his face.

He briefly congratulated the newlyweds. His sister, like the caretaker she was, pulled out a baby wipe for him to clean up his lower face. He tried his best to wipe off all the soot, then he took a piece a cake and started looking around the room for his date. He found Tommy having a conversation with the Wilsons.

“Hey,” Buck put his hand on Tommy’s lower back, “What are you guys talking about?”

“Just what an entrance you two have made,” Hen said with a smirk. Karen was struggling to hide her chuckle.

“Look at him, can you blame me?” Buck gazed adoringly at Tommy, “I was planning to show him off on the dancefloor anyway.”

“You’re full of surprise, Evan, you know that?” Tommy smiled, the ocean blue in his eyes filled Buck’s heart with affection.

“I’m sure it went a lot better than the last time you tried kissing someone in front of me,” Hen interrupted, with a devilish grin.

“Huh?” Tommy reacted, puzzled.

“Maurice.” The Wilsons were fully giggling at this point.

“Oh no.” Tommy covered half of his face with one of his hands, seemingly embarrassed by Hen’s teasing, “You guys are never going to let me live this down, aren’t you?”

The conversation kept flowing, but Buck was deafened by the thousands of questions in his head.

Who’s Maurice? Why have I never heard of him? Why was Tommy trying to kiss him? In front of Hen too? Was he Tommy’s crush? Who rejected him? No, were they… together?

“Evan?” Tommy noticed Buck’s lapse in focus.

“Uh… yes… yes, Tommy?”

“The cake?” Tommy pointed at the piece of dessert in Buck’s hand.

“Sure… Of course.” Buck handed the plate over. He really wanted to find out more about this Maurice, but at the same time, he recognized the recency of his budding romance with Tommy. Tommy would get around to mentioning this mysterious figure from his past eventually, Buck thought, so he decided to let it go for now.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten since last night. I’m starving.” Tommy explained, while shoving a sizable chunk of wedding cake into his mouth. “Mmm, this is so good. This is everything I’ve been waiting for.” This man loved his cake, even the soot and fatigue on his face could not hide the genuine joy radiating from his face, in all its crinkly, wrinkly glory.

“The cake huh? Is that all?” Buck asked, flirtatiously.

Tommy flirted back, with his signature deadpan expression but burning lust in his eyes, “Well, I have to refuel my body before engaging in whatever activities await us tonight.”

Buck’s heart skipped a beat, probably from the sudden rush of blood down south. Yeah, Maurice could wait.

The second time Buck heard the name Maurice, was at the medal ceremony.

It was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

Not only did none of them get fired, they were all given medals for borrowing LAFD property and leading a pre-authorized rescue mission off the coast of Mexico. None of that would have been possible without the pilot. Yes, all of them played their part in saving Bobby and Athena from the sinking cruise ship, but Tommy in particular put his career, even his own life at risk just to help a few old colleagues he had not seen for years, just because there might be people in need. Judge him all you want, but seeing Tommy on that stage, being awarded for his skills and heroism, Buck simply could not conceal the fondness and enamorment written all over his face. Bobby and Athena being alive and well, looking like a classic Hollywood power couple, was obviously the most important part, Buck told himself. Although, Tommy being appreciated for the absolute ace he was, while in his dress blue, came as a close second.

The way the rigid fabric splayed across the pilot’s strong muscular body, buttons holding on for dear life against his bulging pecs, pants just tight enough to accentuate the curvature of his glutes, a feature Buck found enticing in all genders. Buck was not alone in ogling the real life erotic fantasy in front of him, about that he was sure, but he took comfort in knowing he was the only one there who got to touch this body, to worship it, to savor every inch of it, to feel it against his own. He might have almost missed his own call to the stage because he was too busy gawking at his boyfriend.

He was looking forward to celebrate this moment with his loved ones, maybe a little foreplay in costume with Tommy too, until Gerrard showed up and ruined everything.

Upon spotting the former 118 captain, Tommy looked as if he had seen a ghost.

The second Gerrard made a limp wrist gesture at Tommy, insinuating a homophobic slur, Buck realized he was more than an ignorant old man. He barely skirted the edge of blatant bigotry just to abuse his targets while staying on the side of possible deniability. If he used merely 10% of his brain power allocated for creative insults, Los Angeles would be a much safer place.

Tommy was clearly upset after their unexpected encounter with Gerrard. He was forking the food on his plate, without eating any, then abruptly, he stood up, “I don’t feel like eating these right now. I’m gonna get some cake, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Buck gave him a forced smile and a small peck to his temple, then he sent his boyfriend to his beloved sweet treat.

“I’m worried about him,” Buck turned to Chimney, “I’ve never seen him like this before, being so… small.”

“Working under Gerrard was not exactly a fun time worth keeping in your memory” Chimney sighed. “Like most of us, it took Tommy a long time and a lot of soul searching to become who he is right now. He did have a fat head back in the days, but I can’t say I blame the guy. Sometimes you do things you’ll regret further down the road just to survive at the moment.”

“Yeah… he told me the 118 was a regressive place back then.”

“Gerrard isn’t just another asshole, he’s an asshole with power, particularly power over his people’s safety. Tommy almost died because of him.”

“I know… Gas explosion, right? He said you saved his life.”

“I guess I did, but hey, Gerrard only gave me one month of KP duty as a reward, so that was a plus,” Chimney snickered, sarcastically.

“He punished you for saving Tommy’s life?” Buck never fully grasped the injustice, mistreatment, and suffering his loved ones faced under Gerrard’s reign of terror. He made a mental note to thank Bobby later for his gentle fatherly guidance.

“That’s who he is, Buck. All power trip, no leadership. I’ve never seen Tommy so scared of somebody,” Chimney continues, “except maybe... Maurice.”

Maurice, this name again. Buck still knew close to nothing about this cryptic individual.

Tommy was very upfront about how abrasive his was in his youth. Having to desperately hide his true self from his abusive father, then intolerant military policy, and finally his homophobic superior, he had learned very early on that the best defense was a solid offense. He was cold, distant, downright rude to anyone and everyone who tried getting too close, to the truth, to his desire, to his heart. So if Tommy was reluctant to share the parts of his life that he was less than proud of, Buck would not try to pry… At least until Chimney told him how fearful Tommy was of Maurice.

“Who…” Just as Buck opened his mouth, his brother in law rose from his seat, grabbing the red wine filled glass with him. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to take this wine to my wife.”

As soon as Chimney left, Tommy returned with a piece of cake in his hand and a subtle smile on his face.

“Heyy-” Tommy greeted Buck in his usual playful tone.

“Hey, feeling better?” Buck was relieved, sensing Tommy’s change of mood.

“Um…” Tommy looked down, seemingly pondering. Then he retook the seat he previously occupied, the one right next to Buck, and hooked one of his feet under his boyfriend’s chair. He gave the chair a swift, firm tug, and in the blink of an eye, the physical distance between them vanished.

“Now I am,” Tommy murmured with his deep, gravelly voice.

Just like that, the rest of the room ceased to exist for Buck. No Gerrard, no Maurice, only Tommy. Buck’s fingers slowly slid towards the strong, burly thigh leaning against his own, but Tommy stopped him on his track, by grabbing his inquisitive hand.

“This is not exactly... appropriate for work, don’t you think?”, Tommy said, without letting go of Buck. “People may have questions if they see us.” His grip tightened, just enough to reignite the fervent desire building up between them since the start of the day. “Hen and Karen asked me just now about my intentions with you, if they are…” He looked down at the shinny medal currently decorating his boyfriend’s chest, and used his free hand to adjust the ribbon, “honorable.”

“And what did you say?” Buck asked breathlessly, almost panting.

“I told them, we’re taking it very slow…” Tommy inched closer and closer. “You’re taking the lead, I’m just trying to keep up…” His lips ghosted over Buck’s cheek, then he whispered into his ear, “Where should we go now?”

Buck responded by simply dragging Tommy onto the station rooftop. With the “no visitors” sign blocking the stairs, it was the perfect place for some private pastime.

[imagineitdearies]

not a Perfect Slaughter question but Astarion one. you remember that scene in goblin camp where a Loviatar priest and PC can do an impromptu bdsm session? Astarion's reaction always confused me. he seems to be strangely into it for a person who experienced a lot of non consensual sex with physical violence sprinkled on top. like yes, he could be faking it (it's act 1 after all) but he gives a lot of approval points for it.

is it just a case of him being his usual gremlin self? or is he more amenable to the show now when he isn't the one on the receiving end of a whip? also at this point in a game i doubt he cares too much for PC (reminds me abt his remark "i don't like seeing you hurt" or smth along the line).

and more generally, what do you think is his stance on pain play and d/s stuff in the bedroom? anyway would like to hear your musings on this, ciao <3

Hey anon!

I'm no Astarion expert compared to some in this fandom, but this is a scene I've thought a lot about the implications of myself so I'll offer my two (very long-winded) cents. I'd love to hear others' thoughts as well!

I agree that Astarion's big approvals should be isolated to the context of when in the game he's giving them. Based on his smaller approval points in Act I, when Astarion starts out this journey he seems to like watching people get treated how he once was. Just a few really early examples:

Tav* making Lae'zel say please (Astarion begging Cazador)

Tav making Zorru bow (Astarion having to bow in Cazador's presence)

Tav prodding Nettie's injured bird till it dies (Godey flashbacks)

Tav telling Mayrina's brothers they won't help (no one ever helping Astarion)

Tav terrorizing Lorin/entertaining his delusions (☹)

So we could argue Astarion is just leaning into this sadistic trauma response in the Loviatar scene as well. He finds satisfaction, however temporary, in seeing others endure what he once had to, and reassuring himself that he's on the winning/powerful/in control side this time. AKA not the weak pathetic person he feels like he was before. The self-loathing is subtle, but not far under the surface.

Considering he often disapproves of Tav being self-sacrificing and weak in other instances, however (usually when it's on behalf of others), why does he highly approve in this certain instance of Tav submitting to pain and injury for seemingly no good reason?

I think the timing of this scene in Act I makes a big difference, considering it's deep in the goblin camp where the party is usually at least a couple levels into their adventure. So in that case, Tav is the established leader, Astarion's vampiric nature is revealed, and they've survived quite a few encounters together already. Some trust has been built. Astarion is more assured of Tav's strength, competency, and willingness to keep him in the group....but that assurance of Tav's strength could be crossing over to feeling unsafe again.

There's plenty of other chaotic, less-sadistic things that he likes (BAAAA!), but almost** all of his big +5 or +10 approvals come from Tav agreeing to something that makes Astarion feel safe and/or powerful. So perhaps Astarion wants Tav to say yes to the Loviatar pain ritual because he views it as a show of strength. He might feel safer knowing that his leader can not only handle pain, but is so entirely unafraid as to welcome it even in the midst of a dangerous goblin camp--something Astarion's 'weak' past self never would have done (cue the self-loathing again).

Based on how eager he sounds when encouraging Tav, though ("don't you dare say no!"), I like to think that he's playing it off as sexual but in reality wants to assure himself he's not with another Cazador. While Astarion is likely to follow Tav regardless, I think he's more interested in being intimate with Tav--if he hasn't already--after seeing that Tav is okay with not always being in charge and assertive, in control. I think, especially at the start, Astarion craves control after not having it for so long, and this kinky display tells him Tav wouldn't mind him taking over for a little while.

Which, at last, gets us to your question about Astarion's views on "pain play and d/s stuff in the bedroom." I think it's telling that Astarion has a +5 approval during the first sex scene if Tav rolls over and lets him bite, and no matter which final romance scene you end up with in Act III, he's depicted as the top. If he ascends, he quickly jumps into what I'd call a permanent d/s dynamic with spawn!Tav where's he's the one in control, made all the more evident with the new kissing animations for patch 6. Plenty of implications to be had, about his preferences.

Now (and these are entirely my headcanons/opinions from here on out), Astarion just isn't in a place for what I'd consider actual healthy d/s dynamics in the bedroom during or immediately after the game timeline, as his mindset is too rooted in fear, self-loathing, and desperate grabs for control. It's been days, weeks at most since he was tortured and controlled on the regular--a lot of this stuff could be triggers and provoke flashbacks, or at the least reinforce the idea in his head that sex is a tool of manipulation and control. Truly safe, sane and consensual d/s acts just don't seem on the table--he goes through a period of not wanting sex at all, much less intimacy where so much trust is required.

But post-game, with enough time? I could see spawn!Astarion*** eventually enjoying some light bdsm in either role, maybe pain play beyond bites if he was the one giving, not receiving the pain. Which all could be a healing experience for him, with trust and aftercare involved. He wouldn't make it on my list of 'top three kinkiest companions' though 😂

Anyways, this is all very much my personal opinion!! Astarion is a fascinating character with so much nuance, there's endless ways to interpret him. And maybe he was just feeling extra chaotic and kinky that day 🤷‍♀️ "Ah, drink it in - that sweet, sweet chaos. Not that I approve of goblins, of course - filthy little beasts - but I do like a good den of debauchery."

Thanks for the question anon. If nothing else, I hope these ramblings entertained! 💙

*Tav represents Tav, Dark Urge, and origin characters in this post

**The one exception that I can think of is the +5 approval for letting him interrupt during the bugbear/ogre scene. Chaos gremlin indeed.

***Ascended!Astarion's characterization and lore is just a bit too inconsistent and vague (in my opinion, of course) for me to analyze a future for. Press (x) to doubt that he can eventually practice safe, healthy bdsm on the side with spawn!Tav while he does his evil stuff and tries to take over the world, but maybe??? Lol he doesn't make sense to me.

[waitingongravity]

Alright, so. So there's PLENTY of unfinished business in the Abyssal Hunter storylines.

Let's look at what we know of already and what that could mean:

First off, the stuff that has already been established in previous events: There were three big leaders in the Church of the Deep: Quintus, Amaia, and some other dude who has only been referred to as Him. This Him is acquainted with Specter during her time as an experiment subject. We can pretty safely assume that much like Quintus and Amaia, He will be the one orchestrating the events of next uhhh... event. Besides that, we have Ulpianus and the Last Knight. Those two swam off into the sunset at the end of Stultifera Navis, and we can only assume that they are still hunting seaborn to this point. The curious thing with the Last Knight is that we got to see him plenty in IS3. We know he's a powerful piece of work, and that in true Don Quixote fashion he is unreasonable with. The real question for me is what the hell he's going to do in a world where Ishra-Mla hasn't taken over yet. Will he be more helpful? Proooobably not. Speaking of: ISHRA-MLA. I've seen a lot of speculation over whether Skalter is fully non-canon to the main timeline, or if she is merely an eventuality. Skadi's condition is not looking good, and we haven't really been presented with any possible solutions. Specter is fighting off infection and insanity through her seaborn blood, but Skadi's issue is seaborn in nature. That being said, I'd like to stay optimistic. Skadi's arc has been an upwards one, even if it's only slightly. I'd like to believe that the difference between IS3's timelines and the Canon is that Skadi had more time to grow stronger mentally and emotionally to resist the pull of Ishra-Mla. Or at least stall long enough to find a solution. Of course, this transformation is also affecting Specter and Gladiia. Much like oripathy, they may be doomed, but maybe there's hope for a comfortable life.

AEgir is a nation we know next to nothing about since they're all the way in the Water. An unknown settlement of AEgir was spotted right under the Stultifera, and we know Ulpianus preventing the Hunters' return to AEgir is one of the reasons why the fish apocalypse didn't happen. Whether that is just proximity to the ocean or something in AEgir itself, I think we'll be diving out of Iberia and into that AEgir colony. I doubt we'll go into AEgir proper, but that doesn't mean AEgir won't send its own people out. Okay, now for the operators relevant to all this: The obvious one is Andreana, our lonely cuttlefish. She is essentially a cheap walmart knock-off Abyssal Hunter, so many think that she'd be getting an Alter or some story focus as she goes full fledged (full scaled? Whatever.) While I see that as a possibility, a lot of Andreana's character is just NOT CARING about any of that. She outright rejects the opportunity from Kal'tsit to learn more, and wants to leave her mysterious past behind her. Honestly, I can respect it. My guess is that Andreana might get involved but stay out of it, unless someone (like her employer Incandescence who we've yet to see in-game) gives her a reason to care.

So who else do we have involved in this? Well, Deepcolor is pretty sus, and the only other AEgir operator besides Skalter. I'll be honest, I always thought she was up to no good. Do NOT trust her >:I. There's also the chance she's some loose AEgir agent or something that lost contact after the Great Silence. But I still don't trust. Here's the sleeper pick: Blue Poison! The curious thing about Anura, besides how cute they are, is that they were enslaved by AEgir and brought to Iberia in hopes that their toxins could be a new weapon against the seaborn. This puts Bloopy in an interesting position as both someone with a vested interest. Hell, she could truly be the secret weapon in the event.

With all this in mind, here's my idea for what the event could/should be. Ulpianus can be the new 6 star, whatever he's a loser I don't care about him. More importantly, BLOOPY ALTER as a limited unit. That's right, Andreana can keep her gun, we all know she loves that thing more than anything. Let Bloopy be the first 6 star Arts Defender or something! Or a new Fighter since we know she boxes. I dunno, just make her busted so I can feel vindicated in my love for her. and finally, 5 star... I dunno, some AEgir girl from the settlement under the Stultifera. Give me a manta ray girl! Flat friend. Or angler fish? Hmmmm. As far as the plot, I think it'll be a two-pronged threat. On one end, He and the rest of the Church of the Deep implement a final plan, either relying on the super advanced tech AEgir have, or simply being the culmination of the evolution which has been a running theme for these events. Under Tides saw the seaborn evolve to talk, Stultifera Navis saw them evolve to be incredibly powerful and adaptive. Who knows what we'll see next? As for the AEgir settlement's conflict, I think we could see a next step in the other relevant issue in Iberia: the persecution of the AEgir peoples and the role of the Inquisition in the fight against the sea. I doubt the settlement will be safe for long, so perhaps over the course of the story we will see them integrated into Iberia, and offer their own tech/abilities in exchange for a stronger frontline. Of course, all this is assuming that the settlement isn't just an long-abandoned ruin. I'd also like it if the Doctor actually got involved in this event. Kal'tsit is a given of course, but I think the Doctor's presence might be appropriate for the conclusion of this trilogy. Much how like Lone Trail concluded the story started by Mansfield and Dorothy's Vision, there might be big story turning points at the end of this. And given the forces involved? This wouldn't be surprising. Anyways this was a super disorganized ramble I typed mid-ttrpg session so I'm sure I missed a lot or messed stuff up. I'd love to hear any more speculations, this stuff is very fun to think about.

[emotionallychargedtowel]

Why hello! I don’t see why we can’t keep the Top 5 trend alive in the new year so…

From one chronic rewatcher to another, what are your top 5 most rewatched scenes?

Sorry this took so long, @wen-kexing-apologist! I'm just now getting back to posting a bit more regularly after the holidays got me totally off track, and this question brought up a lot of Thoughts so I've been chipping away at it for weeks.

So, um, this is the best question ever. Except it’s the meanest question ever, because I'm terrible at choosing between things like this.

I am a massive rewatcher, whether you’re talking about whole series, episodes, or scenes. Scenes especially. Why watch an entire thing when you can go right for the best part/s and watch them over and over? This is also one of the reasons I have way too many gifs saved on my phone.

I thought about coming up with a list that was based more on what would make a good post, and/or what would make me look less uncool, than what I actually rewatch the most. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. I wanted to be honest instead. So at the risk of seeming even more like an Utsukare obsessive and overall one-trick pony, I'm going to talk about the five scenes I think I've actually rewatched the most, even though four of them are from my perennial obsession.

The four Utsukushii Kare scenes are in the order they occur in the series, not from most rewatched to least. Then I'll talk about a fifth scene from another series that I've been pretty vocal about appreciating, and I'll mention some runners-up.

“who do you like, him or me?”

If gif posts are any indication—gifs are the smallest increment of rewatching, after all—some of my favorite scenes to rewatch aren’t that popular with other rewatchers. This one gets gif’ed, sure, as you can see. But it's not as popular a choice for this kind of treatment as a lot of other Utsukare scenes.

There are a few reasons this one is a favorite of mine. One is that I tend to like some jealousy in my romance. I have my theories about why it’s so appealing to me specifically, but I’m not entirely sure how to explain it. I also love a good aggressive shirt-grab. (Utsukare certainly delivers these regularly.) But the main reason I keep coming back to this moment is that in just a few sentences, a bunch of character development happens. Well, I guess it would be more correct to call it character revelation. This is the first time we really see this side of Kiyoi, and in that respect, it foreshadows the big perspective shift that’s just around the corner. The viewer picks up a lot of hints that Kiyoi has feelings for Hira prior to this point (even if Hira remains stubbornly oblivious to them). We’ve even seen Kiyoi kiss Hira already (even if he did push him to the ground a split second later). But this is the first time we see such direct evidence of the strength of his feelings for Hira. Kiyoi is so unguarded for this brief moment. The mask slips and what’s underneath is total desperation.

Hira, of course, misses the real meaning of what Kiyoi is saying despite how obvious it is. Which means it's also the viewers’ first indication of how intensely Hira clings to his favored view of reality in the face of evidence to the contrary.

"sorry I like you"

This is another scene where so much is happening in a short span, all because Kiyoi got desperate enough to talk about all of the unspoken bullshit between him and Hira. As usual, Hira doesn’t get it. But he might be starting to. 

This scene is pretty rough watching in some ways. When this episode first aired and it ended with this scene followed by each of them on their own and feeling terrible, I was a bit of a mess. It was silly of me to worry. There were plenty of favorable signs in the preview for the finale. I knew the novels had a happy ending. But it was just so sad and so real that it got to me anyway. But I also enjoyed it, because for an obsessive analyzer like myself, seeing these important relationship dynamics finally come to the surface in such concentrated form was fascinating. It was also a relief to see things out in the open.

Both leads turn in such great performances here. Yagi Yusei really steps up. It’s even more impressive given his relative lack of acting experience. His performance is so raw and affecting. If he had been less vulnerable, Kiyoi’s point about how contradictory Hira’s actions and statements are could seem like a kind of “gotcha” moment designed to win an argument--like he was pointing out that Hira was hypocritical in a bid to score points. Instead, Yagi shows viewers how deeply being caught in this double bind with Hira has hurt Kiyoi. 

Hagiwara Riku, in contrast, portrays Hira as so confused that he’s basically dissociated. Hira has a really strong tendency to see the world in whatever way suits him, regardless of the truth. Kiyoi’s words force Hira to set his usual narrative aside and see how much clinging to it is hurting the person he claims to love, and it throws him off to such an extent that he seems to be experiencing a form of psychomotor slowing. He looks like he’s moving through molasses. He can’t form sentences, or at times, even words. His normally expressive eyes seem like they’ve shrunk to half their normal size. He’s really come unmoored, and it shows. The more I think about Hagiwara’s work in this scene the more impressed I am by the insight and physical control he had to bring to bear in order for it to work. 

Of course, if I watched this scene on its own habitually, this level of blorbo distress might take a toll on my mental health. Which is why I usually follow it up with…

"I'm not going to kiss you for a while"

I’m busting out the bullet points for this one because otherwise it might take me all day.

This scene works on so many levels!

Well, the main ones are:

Relationship progress! Character growth! 

The whole kiss fakeout thing is hot

Hira gets some payback and frankly, he deserves it

The other highlights for me are: 

Even after repeated viewings and knowing very well what happened in the story, I still feel kind of relieved to see that Kiyoi came back, especially right after rewatching the scene prior to this one. 

When Kiyoi asks Hira why he thinks he came home and he says, “to punch me?" he does it in the most weirdly cute way.

Kiyoi’s absolutely lethal snotty face/voice when he responds to the possibility of punching Hira with “maybe” is so perfect that it's hard not to think that Hira might have a point about this whole King deal. 

Hira apologizes and it’s actually sincere and not just some knee-jerk bullshit. 

The way Hira closes his eyes and waits for Kiyoi to smack him is a rare case of him actually letting go and putting himself in Kiyoi’s hands instead of his usual topping-from-the-bottom thing.

More about the kiss fakeout:

Hagiwara does a great job of telegraphing Hira’s expectant response. In scenes where two characters are going to kiss but get interrupted, it's not uncommon to see a kind of hesitation or other subtle signal that the actor knows the kiss isn't going to happen. But there's none of that here. Hagiwara even does this sort of gulp/swallow thing like he thinks the kiss is going to start any moment. When the kiss doesn't materialize, he nails an absolutely pitifiul sad puppy expression.

Kiyoi’s vulnerable voice and facial expression when he explains about the kissing boundary thing is so sincere and cute. Could he be any more different from season 1 episode 1 Kiyoi?

I’ve written about how the no-kissing-until-Hira-takes-Kiyoi-seriously policy might seem like a controlling move or an inappropriate ultimatum to some viewers but it actually better resembles what Harriet Lerner calls a “bottom line,” resulting in a boundary that is not only justifiable but downright healthy…or almost healthy, at least. It's a bit on the extreme side, and the fakeout part remains a little mean. But they're understandable given what Hira has put Kiyoi through. 

Here's my s2e4 writeup that includes that discussion:

“sorry, Kiyoi”

So, I’ve already written quite a bit about this scene. In one instance, I wrote a propaganda blurb when it was in bl brackets’s kiss bracket.

Here's the original blurb I wrote for @bl-bracket when I nominated the scene, as used in the post where people voted:

Hira and Kiyoi Final Kiss: "It’s an important plot point (because Kiyoi has said he won’t kiss Hira until he stops putting him on a pedestal and now Hira is making progress on that front, and because Hira hasn’t initiated physical stuff in the past, and initiating is itself a way of treating Kiyoi more like an equal). It’s also just a really well-acted and effectively shot kiss, and as a result it communicates so much about the characters and shows a side of their relationship not portrayed elsewhere in the show. And of course, it’s super hot. That includes the kind of weird but suggestive details that are typical of the show, like Hira passing candy/candy spit to Kiyoi through the kiss and then switching into this really distinct sexy voice that makes it sound almost as if he’s changing personalities."

And here's an additional, longer propaganda post I wrote to lobby for votes:

One of the points I tried to make in that post about why this scene is special was that it really does represent a leap forward in how both leads portrayed intimacy in this series. Prior to this scene, viewers had seen a dead fish kiss on graduation day, a more intense makeout situation in the season 1 finale that was shot so impressionistically that it was often hard to tell exactly what the actors were doing, and some interrupted kisses earlier in season 2. And then this happened. Here's a quote from what I wrote previously:

Personally, despite being a fan of both actors and thinking they did amazing work on the series, until I saw this scene I really didn't know if they had it in them, if they could actually pull off something that felt real. But they brought it. They're not holding back. As opposed to more stylized kisses you see in BLs and other romance dramas sometimes, I found it very naturalistic, like the way a couple of real kids in their early 20s would kiss.

So, yeah. I thought it showed real growth on the part of the actors as individuals and as a pairing/team.

This scene also caused me to dig deeper, with the help of some very knowledgeable mutuals, into what “persistent” and “cute” mean in a sexual context in Japan. My main post about that is below.

Noticing Hagiwara's use of Hira's "persistent voice" also helped me to notice something else when I checked out his other work, and that is that he often uses his voice in very different ways in different roles. I recently watched a drama he did before Utsukare and I was struck by this all over again. Again, it shows a really impressive degree of control.

And now, for our one non-Utsukare scene in the top 5:

"I'm trying to seduce you"

I also wrote a nomination blurb about this scene for the kiss bracket. (If you're seeing a pattern here, well, yeah, it's a pattern.) The original voting post here but I'll go ahead and quote it in its entirety since it's pretty short.

This kiss is ridiculously hot and is a culmination of so much that’s been simmering beneath the surface for the entire show up to that point. Togawa has been pining so hard for Nozue for so long that when Nozue gives him a glimmer of hope and then tries to leave, everything he’s been bottling up comes surging out. Kimura Tatsunari exudes a level of desperate lustfulness in this scene that’s as intense as anything I’ve seen in any genre. We’re all familiar with the idea that people look at a person’s mouth when they want to kiss them, but Togawa looks at Nozue’s mouth like he dreams about it every night and sees it every time he closes his eyes. No wonder he feels a need to stick his thumb in there. Takeda Kouhei also communicates so much in this scene. Nozue is shocked and confused but he can’t help but respond to Togawa’s kisses. You can see the gears turning—and refusing to turn—as he tries to make sense of what’s happening—and keeps kissing Togawa back even though he still can’t process it. Togawa’s declaration, “I’ve been trying to seduce you, with everything I have,” is the cherry on top.

There's another bit of subtle physical communication here that I find interesting, and I think you might too, @wen-kexing-apologist. Just recently I've been thinking about the meaning, in kissing scenes, of what for lack of a better term I'll call the head-bonk. By this I mean the thing where one person puts their forehead against the other person's, often with at least a tiny bit of an impact that renders it a bonk rather than, like, just touching them together. Togawa kisses Nozue once, then a second time, and then goes in for a third that Nozue avoids by sinking toward the floor. The third kiss doesn't happen, but when Togawa starts to initiate it he does an absolutely sublime head-bonk. I'm still figuring out what I think about the head-bonk thing. All I know is that, from my vantage point, that little move on Kimura's part practically screams "I've been holding this back for five goddamn years and I can't wait one more second to kiss this person."

Runners-up and honorable mentions:

Semantic Error:

Their first kiss in the restaurant after Jae Young calls Sang Woo "hyung" - I have watched this so much that if I had been asked for my top 6 this would have been #6.

Jae Young demonstrating the features of the "free trial"

Minato’s Laundromat (season 1, of course):

Shin freaking out about Minato being alone with Hanabusa

The washing machine kabedon

The “smelling the sheets” scene

Kiseki (I just watched this for the first time a week or so ago and I have already done so much scene-rewatching it's ridiculous):

That incredibly angsty sex scene with Ai Di and a drunk Chen Yi, you know the one

Chen Yi's confession to a physically restrained Ai Di

The scene at Ai Di's bar where Chen Yi puts him in a double kabedon

Ai Di and Chen Yi's conversation after Ai Di gets out of prison, where he says he fucked Chen Yi "just for fun" and offers to let him do stuff to him as "revenge"

Ai Di trying to scare Chen Yi by stroking his chest and asking him if he wants to "play" and then getting weirded out when Chen Yi asks, "What if I say yes?"

Jheruei and Zongyi's first real kiss and subsequent A+ lap-sitting moment

And as a bonus, here's my most-rewatched non-QL moment:

There's a scene I'm obsessed with in Something in the Rain where Jun Hui comes to Jin A's home and sees her ex-boyfriend there with her and her parents, lobbying to get back together and manhandling her, and he reacts exactly the way you'd expect as someone to who's in love with Jin A. It is tattooed on my brain. If I ever learn to make gifs I am gif'ing the fuck out of that scene.

[master-sass-blast]

Let's Call it a Draw Between Us -Chapter One: Defeat.

Author's Note (uploading multiple works tonight, so I'm slapping this on all the fics I'm posting):

Uh... hi.

It's been a very long time. Longer than I'd hoped for, but suffice to say, this year hasn't gone according to plan.

In sum, I had a mental breakdown in Spring, got diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos syndrome in July, my husband totaled his car in September, I was sick for the whole month of October, my husband found a new (used) car... and then hit a deer at the end of November, and the insurance company ruled that it was totaled because the repair costs would be worth more than the value of the car.

Yeah.

There's been other shit, too, but part of what I've learned with the new diagnosis is that my body does not regulate or cope with stress well -which I sort of already knew, but it's to a vaster extent than I'd known. Essentially, this past year has just taken me out at the knees, and it will probably take my body a while to regulate and function well again.

I still want to write and post fics, but I now have a lot of anxiety around not being able to write and post fics (along with other things that my befuckened body interferes with), which is just... a lot. And frustrating.

I'm not throwing in the towel. But I also can't promise any sort of posting schedule moving forward. Right now, my body and brain are just too unpredictable, and I have to make sure I'm taking care of my basic needs (like eat and hygiene and sleeping, it's literally that difficult to deal with) so that I'm physically okay.

Thank you all for being so patient. I hope to see you more regularly in the coming New Year, but if not, know that I'm okay and still kicking, but that my body's just kicking back for the time being.

Much love and best of wishes to you all for the New Year!

Summary: Sevika pines. She drinks. Then she competes in some arm wrestling and makes some very sapphic eye contact.

She loses, loses again, and then she wins.

Or maybe she wins all three times. It depends on your point of view.

(Basically just a very self-indulgent fic that spawned from an idea about Sevika and a big, buff Reader that I'll probably never get around to writing in full, so I wrote this as a way of honoring that idea.)

Pairing(s): Sevika/Reader.

Rating: M for some sensual themes and making out.

Word Count: 10.1k. Whoops.

You drive her to drink.

Speaking of… Sevika leans against the bar and snaps her fingers at Thieram. “Whisky, neat. Half a glass.” She narrows her eyes when he raises his eyebrows at her, then scoffs and goes back to staring across the room once he jumps to. Idiot.

She hadn’t expected much out of you after she first met you. Properly met you, that is. Technically, her first introduction to you had been in an underground fighting ring stocked by Stillwater’s hardier, more opportunistic patrons. You’d made quick work of the other prisoners, but Silco had wanted a proper evaluation before deciding whether or not to scoop you up, so in she’d gone. She’d socked you in the jaw, you’d suplexed her through a shitty wooden table. Good times.

She hasn’t had any complaints about you. You’re quiet, compliant. You don’t get drunk on the job, and you don’t start fights with the rest of the crew.

But that seems to be about it. You don’t really hang out with anyone else. You’ll talk to her every now and then, but otherwise you keep to yourself. You don’t play cards with the others, shoot pool, or share drinks. No swapping of stories, or exchanging inside jokes. From what she can tell, you keep to yourself like a hermit in an invisible cave.

Like a shadow, she reflects as you hang back in your usual spot (towards the back of the bar, tucked into darkness, where no one bothers you). If you’re not watching it, you forget it’s there.

She’d thought that was it. She’s seen plenty of people leave Stillwater and fall into violence, or inebriation, or withdrawn sullenness. She figured you were a tragic statistic –yet another to add to Zaun’s tally.

And then…

Her upper lips curls when Jinx comes bounding down the stairs. She tracks the blue-haired sprite across the bar, over to where you’re sitting, then scoffs when you greet Jinx with a small smile before glaring down at her glass.

It’s like watching a flower unfurl after weeks of frost. You smile and open up towards the sun of Jinx’s exuberance like you’ve been doing it your whole life, like there’s nothing more natural to you than beaming at Silco’s brat. And, sure, Jinx is a kid and she’s kind of cute, for a demented gremlin. But she’s still Jinx.

Sevika scowls down into her whiskey. Fucking psycho kid.

You’d called it kismet when she’d asked why you tolerate Silco’s batty brat. You’d lost your baby sister when you’d gone into prison, Jinx had lost Vi after the factory explosion, and then, years later, the universe had brought you two together and balanced everything back out, or fucking whatever.

She supposes it’s a decent arrangement. Jinx isn’t nearly as vicious and off kilter with you around, and you get all soft, and mushy, and happy, and pretty–

Sevika motions to Thieram to top her glass up again. Fuck me.

You’re protective of Jinx, too. Not that the brat can’t handle herself (Sevika has her new arm to prove that). But, she can still remember the night Finn’s gang had crowded into the Last Drop. They’d been obnoxious, and overbearing, and more than a little sloshed. Jacen, one of Finn’s “good buddies,” had slapped Jinx across the ass as a joke.

He’d done it in front of Silco. He was a dead man regardless.

Before anyone –even Jinx–could react, though, you’d lurched out of your chair, grabbed the sledgehammer you keep with you in lieu of a knife or a gun, and taken two long strides across the bar. “Jacen!”

Sevika’s core clenches at the memory. She lets out a harsh breath, then gulps down half her drink.

The crimson, glittering spray of blood through the air had been beautiful. Like gems cascading through the air. Jacen’s face had caved in on one side from where you drove the head of the hammer all but through it. He’d dropped to the floor in a heap, unmoving.

“Anyone else want to have a go?”

She’d gotten herself off to the thought of it that very night. The fury in your eyes, the decisive, powerful movements of your body, the splatter of blood. She’d climaxed harder than she had in a long time.

The whiskey burns her throat –expected and grounding.

She takes it without coughing or gasping. She’s been an expert for decades. Her jaw works as she finishes swallowing, and then she turns her head so she can watch you again.

You’re listening and nodding while Jinx rambles. There’s a certain attentiveness to your expression. Maybe it’s the angle of your eyebrows, or the soft, lax look of your jaw, or the brightness in your eyes. Whatever it is, it’s a total abandonment from both the harsh, dominating fury she’s seen from you, and the skittish, withdrawn apathy.

Something soft and needy aches beneath her ribs as she watches you with Jinx. Sevika grits her teeth and exhales with practiced languor. I’ve gone fucking soft.

Sevika doesn’t consider herself possessive. She visits the brothel far too regularly, and has more than a handful of casual “situationships” with different ladies around Zaun to be possessive. She’s not monogamous, at least. She doesn’t think of other people as property. The children of Zaun don’t have the luxury of such affluent detachment.

But she wants you. It’s like this thing that sits beneath her ribs and crawls around inside her. It’s restless, and writhing, and it gnaws on her bones like a feral dog in the dark corner of an alley. It keeps her up at night with racing thoughts, vivid hopes, and half-formed “what ifs.”

It also keeps her up at night because, more often than not, she winds up masturbating to the thought of you –like some starstruck, gods-damned teenager.

She’s not used to wanting –not for companionship, at least. She wants her freedom, wants her equality, wants Zaun to stand strong against those fucking Piltie pigs… but that’s about Zaun. There’s a certain degree of detachment there. It’s not about Sevika personally, the woman who is renowned at the Gardens, beats everyone’s ass in cards, and can drink any citizen of Zaun under the table. The woman who got blown up and survived, lost an arm and came back stronger, and practically rules the Undercity with a steel spine and a –literal–iron fist.

She doesn’t want for company. Any attention she wants, she can easily get. She doesn’t stay up half the night yearning for anyone, much less a… lover? Companion? Affection?

Sevika knocks back the rest of her drink, but the burning in her throat pales in comparison to the ache in her chest. Janna, kill me. Put me out of my fucking misery.

She wants you. She wants to get her hands on you, get you underneath her (or on top of her, she’s not picky), and crack you open. She wants to drink you down, watch all that rage and goodness and steeliness and softness pour out. She wants to find its source and let it all wash over her. She wants it –needs it–for herself.

She wants it to be hers, even in part. She wants to bask in everything you keep held back by your silent, stoic mask.

There’s a headache forming behind her left eye. Probably from clenching her teeth; ever since the scars on her face crystalized, the muscles on the left side of her jaw have been more sensitive to strain.

She’s not used to this –this, this insipid, endless pining. It’s been going on for months now, and she’s just about ready to put a fork in her eye just to make it fucking end.

She barks at Thieram to get her another glass. Drink until you feel nothing. Zaun’s oldest remedy. She leans heavily against the bartop, then groans beneath her breath. Might as well buy the whole bottle. Against good sense, she resumes watching you. Warmth spreads through her chest when you grin at Jinx, and she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

“Y’know, somehow, I don’t think she’s going to figure out you like her just from you staring at her like a creep through a window.”

Sevika tenses, then glares at Ran as they sit down on the barstool next to hers. She picks up her refilled glass with her left hand and lifts it to her lips. “Fuck off. Nobody asked you.”

Ran stays where they are –a credit to their courage, at least. They smirk, then glance across the bar, to where you’re sitting, before returning their knowing, smug gaze to Sevika. “It’d be easier if you talked to her.”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just trying to save you the eyestrain.” They grin, thin and sharp, when Sevika flips them off, then lean against the wooden countertop. “Seriously, though. Why not ask her out?”

Sevika scowls and focuses on her whiskey glass, which is suddenly very interesting. “S’not that simple.”

“Why not?”

Sevika nearly kicks them off the stool and onto the floor (just for starters), but when she catches a look at Ran’s face and realizes they’re not teasing, she sighs and scrubs her face with her right hand. “I… I don’t know what she’d say.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” Ran asks, face twisting with equal parts mirth and disbelief. When Sevika rolls her eyes, they shove her shoulder lightly. “It’s not like you ever have to work for it.” They pause, then smirk devilishly. “Maybe it’s weakened your game. Is that it?”

Sevika glares at them, then kicks Ran in the shin when they start snickering. “I’m gonna smother you in your sleep. And for your information, you giggling bastard, that’s not the problem.” When Ran swallows their smile and motions for her to continue (while rubbing at their shin), she huffs. “I –I don’t know if she likes women.”

Ran’s visible eyebrow arches. “You’ve seen her.”

“...Duh.”

“She likes women.” When Sevika grimaces, Ran narrows their eyes. “You think otherwise?”

“I don’t think she likes anybody,” Sevika admits; doing so is somehow both a relief and condemning all in one. “You’ve seen her around people. She’s not exactly interested.”

“Not everyone likes a girl in their lap the way you do.”

“That’s not the point,” Sevika snarls under her breath as she rolls her eyes.

“Then what is?”

It’s not easy to articulate. Sure, it’s an unspoken, universally acknowledged truth in Zaun, but that doesn’t mean anyone ever says it.

People go into Stillwater, and they come out –if they come out at all–different. Broken. You spent most of your life in that shithole –spent most of your teenage years there–at the anti-mercy of the wardens and other prisoners. It only stands to reason that any part of you inclined towards a relationship –or sex, or human contact–got snuffed out by the need to survive.

She feels bad for you, sometimes. Only when it’s too quiet, and she doesn’t have anything to do, and she’s not drunk and-or high enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to the dark, traitorously soft corners of her mind. She can almost see the child you started as –fiery, but so soft and good and kind–and it all got stomped out by the assholes ruling above them.

Sevika forces herself to loosen her death grip on the glass. Breaking it wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she hates picking shards out of the grooves of her mechanical fingers. “You haven’t seen her around Silver. She touched her shoulder–” she nods at you subtly “–without warning. I thought she was gonna break Silver’s fingers.”

“That’s Silver,” Ran says with a derisive curl of their upper lip. “She wouldn’t know the meaning of ‘boundaries’ if it rammed itself up her ass.”

They’re not wrong; the young woman’s brazen attitude is one of the things Sevika likes about Silver –albeit in small doses.

“She doesn’t talk to anyone,” Sevika murmurs, pathetic by her own standards. She’s worn down enough, though, to speak plainly. “She doesn’t go to any of the brothels, or take anyone home –and, yes, I’ve asked. She hates being touched, or being near anyone.” She presses her lips together to keep a pitiful smile back –she’d never forgive herself–then downs more whiskey. The burn of the liquor grounds her, brings her back to normalcy. “I don’t think she’s interested.”

Ran nods minutely, mulling the evidence over. They watch you for a minute, hawkish in their scrutiny. “She sits with Jinx.”

“Jinx,” Sevika grits out (both because it’s Jinx, and because of the implication of Ran’s observation), “is a kid.”

“She is,” they agree, unfazed. “But, clearly, she’s not entirely opposed to all human contact.”

Like I don’t fucking know that. Sevika clenches her teeth together to keep from snapping. She’s observed the same damn thing, and it’s what keeps that whining, consuming, itching ember of hope burning in her chest.

Ran watches Sevika for a moment, then continues when she doesn’t say anything. “She sits with you.”

“That’s different,” Sevika says on reflex.

“I don’t think it is,” they press. “She never sits with anyone else. It’s either on her own, with Jinx, if she’s here, or with you.”

“I–”

“It’s not like she’s in it for playing cards,” Ran continues, staring Sevika down when she tries to argue. “And she doesn’t drink much, either.” They prop one elbow against the bartop. “Frankly, if you’re not here, then she isn’t. She only bothers hanging around if you’re here.”

“That’s–”

“She talks to you a lot, too,” Ran drawls, tone both teasing and reflective. “The rest of us are lucky to get a word or two from her, but she’ll talk the whole night with you.”

“I’m–”

“She lets you touch her, too. I’ve even seen her touch your shoulder in return.”

“If you interrupt me again–”

“Quit moping,” Ran says, voice flat and final. “Ask her out, or get over it.”

There’s a lot she could say to that. First of all, no one accuses her of moping. But she tucks it away for later; she doesn’t want to start kicking Ran’s ass in front of everyone, because that means the trigger point for said ass kicking will inevitably become common knowledge. Her feelings are nobody’s business but hers. Second of all, no one but Silco tells her what to do, and that’s only for work. She is the only damn master of her personal life, thank you very fucking much. Third, she knows for a fact that Ran spent nearly two years pining for one of Silco’s assassins, so they’ve got zero room to talk shit.

Sevika downs the rest of her drink, then motions for a third refill. “She’s not interested.”

Ran stares at her for a moment. Then, they scoff and shake their head. “You’re an idiot.”

Sevika glares harshly at them–

The door to Silco’s office creaks open, then thumps shut, followed by the man himself quietly descending the staircase to the bar floor. “Jinx.” He finishes buttoning his trench coat shut. “Pack up your things. We’re going home.”

“What?” Jinx’s face screws into the picture of teenage consternation. The baby fat on her cheeks makes her look younger still. “But–”

“It’s alright.” You quickly and neatly arrange her blueprints and drawings into a single stack, then hand them to the blue-haired youngster. “We can talk later, okay?”

Envy curls in Sevika’s gut when Jinx hugs you and you reciprocate with one arm. She turns away and hides her scowl behind her glass. Fucking brat.

Silco addresses the rest of his crew, “I trust that you’re all competent enough to avoid burning the place to the ground?” He arches his good eyebrow, then smirks when a mix of serious answers and half-drunk jokes rise up from the crowd. “Good enough.” He turns to face Sevika and tosses her a key. “You decide when the bar closes.”

She catches the key with her right hand, then flips Petrichor off with her left when they start grumbling under their breath about Sevika being in charge. She raises her glass to Silco in lieu of a spoken fair well, then knocks the rest of it back when he leaves out the rear with Jinx in tow. “Fucking finally. Theo! Put something good on for a change.”

“Are you having another?”

Sevika looks down as Silver –one of Silco’s personal spies–materializes at her side. She eyes the younger woman –her tight dress, high ponytail, and alluring make up–then looks away. Not with you. “Probably not. Best to take it easy.”

“Since when?” Ran mutters under their breath.

Sevika subtly kicks their stool, then looks down when Silver situates herself between her legs.

“You sure?” Silver pouts –which does stir something in Sevika, given Silver’s plush lips and deep-colored lipstick, but it’s not the something that she wants tonight. Silver bats her eyelashes a little, then smiles coyly. “Could be fun.”

Sevika bites back a scowl; she doesn’t want to put Silver off permanently –not yet, anyway. She wracks her brain for some sort of believable excuse that even Silver would accept–

As fortune would have it, one falls into her lap.

“–pretty sure I hit three-fifty yesterday–”

A collective chorus of groans alerts Sevika to the newest problem –chiefly, that Arik is bragging about his “gym gains.” Again.

Nevermind that she could break him over her knee like a fucking twig.

“It’s taken a lot of dedication and hard work.” Arik stretches and flexes, preening while everyone else rolls their eyes. “I don’t want to brag, but I’m probably the strongest member in the crew.”

Sevika arches one eyebrow in judgment; it’s ludicrous, considering that he’s ignoring her, the bouncers, Leon and Boris, and Lock, Silco’s mountainous, tattooed henchman that works security at the Shimmer plants. Why do we even put up with you?

Theo barks out a laugh. “Fat fucking chance, dickwad. No way in hell you’re the strongest person here. Pretty sure Miss Silver could knock you on your ass.”

“I’d take that bet,” Silver chimes in, twirling a lock of her straight, powder purple hair around her finger.

Arik pouts, looking like a spoiled teenager. “Oh, yeah? Who’s strongest, then? You?”

“No.” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t have delusions of grandeur like you. Nah, it’s probably…” He looks around the bar, eyeing the bouncers, then Sevika, before twisting in his seat so he can see the back of the bar. “Actually, it’s probably Mouse, here.”

It takes you a moment to register the nickname foisted upon you by the rest of the crew. You lift your head, blink a few times, then straighten up. “What?”

“Cuntface here–” Theo jerks his thumb over his shoulder at Arik, who sputters and wheezes like a dying engine “–thinks he’s the strongest person in the crew. I wagered that title would probably go to you.”

“Oh.” You look around at everyone, then nod. “Okay.”

Arik huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “There’s –there’s no way to prove that! Size isn’t everything!”

Sevika bites back a smirk as every single woman in the bar glances at each other and rolls their eyes.

“You’re shitting me, right?” Theo sneers at Arik. “Look at her, and look at you. It’s not going to be much of a competition.”

“You can’t prove that!” Arik insists, expression petulant.

Theo swivels in his seat to face you again. “Can you knock him out to shut him the fuck up?”

“No one’s doing that,” Sevika pipes up when everyone starts chattering and laughing excitedly. When people start grousing, she levels the room with a hard, final glare. “We’re not paying to get blood out of the floorboards. Again. If you all want to be idiots and knock the shit out of each other, you do it on your own time and floors, where I don’t have to clean up after your fucking mess.”

There’s a lull, and for a moment it seems like that’ll be it–

Silver perks up. “What about arm wrestling?”

“Hey,” Ran drawls, eyes lighting up. “That could work.”

“Anything to get this moron to shut the fuck up,” Theo grumbles.

Arik pouts, but says nothing.

When she realizes everyone is looking for her –presumably for permission, not that anyone’s ever bothered asking before–Sevika waves one hand dismissively. “Knock yourselves out.”

You watch as a table is cleared and Theo all but shoves Arik into a chair. When everyone looks expectantly at you, you shoot a wide-eyed, somewhat panicked glance her way.

Sevika offers you a half smile, then shrugs as if to say ‘it’s your choice.’

You shrug back, then sigh before standing. You stride over to the awaiting table and sit opposite a very grumpy, red-faced Arik.

Sevika shifts on her stool so she has a better view. Heat unfurls in her core as you prop one elbow against the table. She watches the way the thick muscles in your arm and forearm ripple with each movement. Damn.

Arik shifts in his seat. His eyelid twitches as he eyes your arm and hand. “I– I don’t know–”

“Take her fucking hand,” Theo growls.

Arik swallows hard, then props his elbow on the table and takes hold of your hand.

“On go,” Ran declares –they’ve left the bar and now stand beside the table. “Three… two… one… go!”

It’s not even a competition. If anything, it’s almost pathetic.

Arik tenses his arm –then squeaks when you push his hand down so fast he nearly falls out of his chair. The back of his hand hits the wooden surface of the table with a dull thonk. He lets out an angry snarl, yanks his hand away, then lurches to his feet and storms off with such force that his chair topples to the floor.

Everyone else cheers and claps as the front door of The Last Drop slams shut behind Arik.

“Fucking finally,” Theo mutters before running one hand through his curly hair. He looks at you and smiles appreciatively. “Thanks for shutting him up. Want a drink?”

You lean back and away. “I –I’m good, thanks.”

“That wasn’t even a challenge, though!” Silver pipes up, pouting.

“We already knew it wouldn’t be,” Theo fires back drily.

“But,” Ran interjects with a wry edge to their voice, “if we’re really trying to figure out who’s strongest…” 

Sevika presses her lips into a thin line when they turn and look directly at her. Don’t you fucking dare.

“Do you think you could beat Sev?”

Traitor.

You look at her, then lean back in your seat and grin. “Oh, yeah. Easy.”

Sevika feels her brows rise up, and she grins back despite being annoyed with Ran literal seconds ago. “Really? That’s the stance you want to take?”

“I mean…” You shrug and smirk. “It’s the truth.” You raise one eyebrow as buzzed laughter and inebriated runs through the gang. “What, you're too scared to test it?”

Them’s fighting words. Sevika cocks her head to the side, smirks right back, then shoves off her barstool and stalks over to the table.

Your eyes light up as she sits down across from you. You lean forward, prop one elbow on the tabletop, and grin. “It’s nothing personal, Sev.”

The crooked angle of your grin makes her heart flutter in a delightful, squirmy manner. She swallows hard, forces down the childish feelings of elation, and props one elbow on the table without dropping your gaze. She smirks, and revels in the way your eyes dance in the bar lighting. “Nothing personal, sweetheart,” she fires back, making sure her voice comes out lower and huskier.

Your grin broadens. You clasp her hand and squeeze tight while Theo counts down…

“Three, two, one–”

Oh shit.

It’s like shoving against a wall. Granted, Sevika’s shoved, kicked, and punched a number of walls in her day. She’s left her mark –even broken a few–on nearly all of them. She likes to think that she’s a reasonably strong, generally indestructible motherfucker.

You watch her for a few moments, expression placid –save for the smug, wicked, coy, sexy smirk on your lips. You let her try for a little longer, then inhale sharply and blink rapidly. “Wait, did we start already?”

“Fuck you,” Sevika grits out without any real malice.

You grin, showing a brilliant, alluring flash of teeth –and then you push.

“Shit.” Sevika strains against your arm.

To her credit, she feels your own arm waver slightly; to your credit, you brace your muscles, and it’s like pushing against a wall again.

She grits her teeth and tries to up the ante again. She curses when it doesn’t work, then grunts when you push her arm down another fraction of an inch.

“You okay, baby?” You grin when everyone else laughs (it’s a mix of delight and shock). “It’s okay if you need to tap.”

She grins back. Right now, she doesn’t care if she loses. Frankly, if you keep flirting with her like this, she’s the real winner in this scenario. “Keep it up, baby. We’ll see who taps.”

It’s a lost cause. You take your sweet time, push her hand down smooth and slow, and talk a lot of smack all the while.

She’s got less than an inch between the table top and the back of her right hand, now. You’re not even actively pushing, more just keeping her pinned at that point. She grunts, then laughs when your arm doesn’t budge. “Come on, you cunt. Just fucking finish it!”

You laugh in return and wink. “You’re getting tired in your old age, Sev.”

She grins. “Say that again and we’ll take this out back, bitch.”

You wink –then shove the back of her hand down against the table.

The crowd clustered around the table breaks into cheers.

Sevika can’t find it in herself to give a shit. Yeah, she lost, people are teasing her for it, whatever. She’ll kick their asses later, if she feels like it. Right now, you’re laughing, and smiling at her, and she technically got to hold your hand. That’s all she really cares about.

“What about the other one?”

Sevika blinks a few times, then frowns, confused. She looks up at Theo. “Huh?”

“Her other arm.” He’s talking to you, but he turns and gestures to her mech arm. “What about that one?”

“Uh…” Trepidation flashes across your face as you eye her prosthetic. You cringe and lean back in your chair. “I doubt it.”

It’s fair; her mech arm is reinforced, has motors that work the joints the way her muscles used to, and it’s heavy as shit. She’s crushed bones with her mechanical hand, just by clenching her hand into a fist.

But, still. In for a penny, stupid ways of flirting –all that shit.

She props her metal elbow on the table, resulting in a muted thud.

The table quakes beneath the weight of her arm.

She grins in a way that she hopes is taunting and enticing. She holds up her left hand and waggles her fingers. “You scared, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flash. You run your tongue along the inside of your lower lip. You brace your forearms against the table as you eye her metal hand. You hesitate, pressing your lips together, then say, “Just don’t crush my hand.”

“Nah.” She shakes her head. She’s not out for revenge.

Your shoulders relax. You cock your head from side to side, stretching your neck, then put your left elbow on the table and clasp her mechanical hand. “Bring it on. Sweetheart.”

It’s a more even match; she’d certainly hope so, given the fucking mechanical arm.

There’s a vein popping out on the side of your neck. Your face is pinched, expression one of intense focus and strain. The muscles in your arm and forearm stand out in full, glorious relief, defined and rippling as you fight against the force of her arm.

Her arm isn’t shaking this time, at least; such are the merits of steel reinforcement bars. But she’s not moving your hand, either. Sevika growls. The motors in her arm whir as she pushes harder.

You grunt and shove back. You bare your teeth. Your gaze is locked on where your two hands are joined. Your hands trembles from the sheer force of your exertion–

And then her hand lowers an inch.

Everyone else gasps. Exclamations and expletives roll through the bar.

“Fifty gold pieces says Mouse does it,” Theo says. 

“Bullshit,” Ran fires back. “She’ll get tired, first.”

Kharim pulls out a pad of paper and a pencil. “That’s fifty on Mouse, so far. Do I hear one hundred?”

“I’ll put twenty on Sev,” Silver says with a sweet smile.

“Really?” Sevika grunts as she pushes harder against your hand. “Only twenty?”

You let out a breathless, strained laugh –then push her hand down further.

“Who’s got another fifty on Mouse?” Kharim asks.

Too late, she realizes her prosthetic arm is actually working against her, in this situation. She has to work against the weight of the mech arm –which you can use to your advantage, naturally. The built in mechanical safeties are hosing her, too. Her arm is designed such that, at certain angles or certain levels of exertion, the gears and motors will give to whatever she’s working against. It prevents damage to the internal mechanisms and bending the internal support structures. It’s invaluable for the longevity of her prosthetic, but it also means she can’t mindlessly strain against your hand like she could with her right arm. Her only hope is that her left arm can outmatch yours in raw strength.

Normally, she’d go all in on that bet. Normally –unless her opponent was doped to the gills on Shimmer–there wouldn’t even be enough force in the picture for the failsafes to override the locking mechanisms.

You growl, teeth bared in a glorious snarl, and shove her metal hand lower.

She can’t even find it in herself to be mad. One, she’s not some mealy-mouthed bitch who needs to be the strongest person in the room at all times; she, unlike some people (Arik), is confident in herself and her abilities. Two, it’s frankly impressive. It’s an unrepentant display of raw strength, and she’s not above respecting it. Three…

It’s hot.

She’s torn between focusing on resisting you and watching the muscles in your arm flex. Her mild buzz isn’t helping, either. In hindsight, should’ve stopped with the second glass. It’s taking far too much focus not to just gawk, to grin and simper like an idiot, and she likes to think she still has her pride –which is also why she’s not just giving up. After all, she has her pride. Sevika growls when you force her hand lower, then doubles down and pushes back. Maybe not for much longer, with how this is going. Fuck.

You grit your teeth. There’s sweat glistening along your hairline (which might be her only other saving grace, since her mech arm can’t get tired). You snarl, then grip her hand tighter.

Sevika swears when her arm suddenly jerks downward. She nearly topples out of her chair, saved only by managing to plant her feet beneath the table. She catches herself, blinks–

It’s over.

You shove her metal knuckles against the table with a thud –hard enough that the wood dents inward where her steel knuckle guard hits the surface.

The crowd goes nuts, loses their minds, whatever. If she’s being honest, she’s really not paying attention to it. A distant fragment of her brain registers the squaring of bets, exchanging of coin, but–

You’re still holding her hand.

A larger, deeply buried part of her is furious that she doesn’t have better sensory input on her left hand. She can detect pressure and temperature, rudimentary shit, but she can’t feel the calluses on your palm, or the precise texture of your skin. She can’t really gauge how thick your hand is in hers.

You’re still panting, somewhat dazed as you stare down at your joined hands. Slowly, your eyes trace up the line of her mech arm, up to her face, where you take in her stunned expression. You swallow, quick, then grin.

You’re breathing hard. Your skin glistens faintly with warmth. Your hair looks tousled, slightly sweat trapped. And your grin practically glows.

It’s the closest she’s ever been to seeing what you look like after sex. Sevika can feel her mind filing every single detail of how you look away for future masturbatory reference. She grins back, slow and a bit dazzled. “Shit.”

You let out a soft, quiet laugh. You drop her gaze for a moment, but when you look back up your eyes shine unabated joy.

You’re not looking away. You’re not pulling away. You’re not letting go of her hand.

Do it, a voice that sounds irritatingly like Ran’s whispers in her mind. Do it, you fucking coward. Sevika licks her lips, then leans forward, hoping that she comes across as conspiratorial and collected. “I–”

“Aw, don’t feel too bad, Sev.”

The sudden intrusion feels more like an assault. Fake, sweet perfume cloys at her nose. There’s arms around her neck, and unwanted weight in her lap.

Silver’s face looms into view. She peers down through her lashes, lips posed in a perfect, alluring pout. “It’s not–”

Whatever else Silver says goes in one ear and out the other. She’s looking over the smaller woman’s shoulder, instead.

You pull your hand back across the table. Your smile slips away, and your shoulders bunch up ever so slightly. Back to the usual mask of the careful, quiet mouse.

Godsdammit. Sevika shoves Silver out of her lap and stands with a snarl. “Fuck off.” She stomps away and up the stairs, to where Silco’s office and a few private rooms are. “Everyone, out! Tonight’s done!” She ignores the groans and jeers following her, storms into Silco’s office, and slams the door shut behind her so hard that it rattles in its setting.

Silco’s office is mercifully dark. Quiet.

Sevika collapses onto the quilted velvet couch tucked into the corner of the office. She drops her head into her hands and scrubs at her face. Janna’s left fucking tit, that was a disaster. She sits up, only to slump against the couch like a dejected teenager. This is never going to work out.

If she was anyone else, she might cry –out of sheer frustration, if nothing else. Since she’s not anyone else, she helps herself to a cigar from Silco’s stash.

She only gets as far as rummaging through his desk for the cutter. (Jinx must have absconded with it. Again.) Something in her hindbrain makes her go still; an old, well-tested instinct that says ‘something isn’t right.’

Sevika freezes. Her eyes scan the darkness for any signs of intruders, or one of Jinx’s traps. She strains her ears; aside from the faint, scuttling noises of stray pests, it’s silent.

Too silent.

There should be more talk coming from downstairs; she hadn’t really expected everyone to listen to her when she ordered them all to clear out. There should be music playing, people arguing, clacks from the balls on the pool table. At the very least, there should be complaining and the noises of a final clear down.

She’d half-expected Silver to follow her upstairs. Or maybe Ran, at least. But there’s no sounds of someone climbing upstairs, or Silver’s high-pitched voices, or even creaking floorboards in the hall outside.

Sevika pulls out a knife she keeps tucked in a sheath hidden behind the waistband of her pants. She creeps forward, deadly silent, until she reaches the door of Silco’s office. She gingerly places her right hand on the doorknob, until it’s completely encapsulated by her grip, then slowly turns the handle. Once the latch is fully retracted, she tucks herself behind the door and inches it open. She waits for a beat, then another, then peers around the corner.

The bar is empty.

Now that the door’s open, she can hear the sounds of someone rummaging around the main bar floor. There’s no conversation, though; it’s too quiet to be the usual crew, for another matter.

Sevika stalks down the hall. She quietly, efficiently clears each room before she passes it, until she reaches the end of the outer wall, where the balcony begins. She tucks herself into the shadows, then peers around the corner.

You’re down on the bar floor, putting the remaining chairs up on the tables.

Sevika watches you for a moment, somewhat dumbfounded. Where the fuck is everyone else? She blinks, until her brain finally processes that The Last Drop has not been broken into by assassins or other hooligans, then steps around the corner and into the full light of the bar. She taps the railing of the balcony with her metal hand to alert you to her presence. When you look up, she gestures around aimlessly. “Where’d they go?”

You look around, then back up at her and shrug with one shoulder. “You said to get out.”

“Doesn’t mean they’d actually listen.”

Your gaze cuts away from hers. You duck your head, then go back to putting up the chairs. “Might’ve pushed ‘em. Enforced the order.” You give a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you wanted ‘em gone.”

Sevika grunts and nods. Fair enough. At least, now, she doesn’t have to deal with Silver lingering around. For lack of knowing what else to do, she watches you as you continue tidying things up for the night. “We don’t pay you to do that.”

You shrug; your back’s to her, now, as you work your way around a circular table. “Doesn’t really matter. Thieram deserves a night off, every now and then.”

There’s not much point in loitering on the balcony and staring at you like a mooning idiot. She strides across the length of the balcony, tromps down the stairs, then crosses the distance to the table you’re working in three strong steps. She grabs one of the remaining chairs, flips it upside down with ease, then hooks the seat of the chair on the table top.

You go still for a moment. You watch her, gaze following her every movement, until you relax again and resume working. “‘M sorry ‘bout earlier.”

She nearly trips over the chair she’s picking up. Sevika stalls, blinks, then sets the chair back on the floor and levels you with an incredulous, confused stare. “What?”

“For kicking your ass.” The corner of your mouth briefly ticks up in a self-satisfied smirk, but it washes away to true contrition. “Wasn’t trying to humiliate you ‘n front of everyone.”

“I–” She pinches the bridge of her nose. Can’t imagine where that narrative came from. “I’m not. You didn’t.” She hangs the chair from the table, then scoffs, indignant. “Fuck’s sake, I’m not Arik.”

You smirk, but stay still as you watch her for a few moments. “You were mad about something.”

“I was mad at Silver,” Sevika grouses, careful to avoid making eye contact. And her lousy sense of timing.

You let her get the last few chairs, opting instead to grab a tray and collect stray glasses and empty beer bottles. “You two okay?”

She snorts. “We’re not involved enough to be ‘okay’ or otherwise. We’ve fucked before. End of story.”

“...Did she do something to you?”

The tight, lethal quietness in your voice gets her attention. She straightens up, meets your gaze, and shakes her head. “No. She just gets on my nerves now and then, s’all.”

You grunt, understanding, then add a couple more glasses to your tray before carrying the lot over to the bar.

Sevika grabs a couple stray, half-empty bottles of whiskey, tequila, and vodka, then follows partially in your wake. She stops at the bar counter, watching as you round the end so you can dispose of the beer bottles and set the used glasses in the sink. She sets the half-consumed bottles on the counter, then leans against the neon light-edged lip while she watches you. “Gotta say, it was pretty impressive.” She smirks when you half-turn, brows lightly drawn together, then waggles her metal fingers. “Figured I’d have you licked.”

You snort, then shake your head. “Might’ve.” You set the last of the glasses in the sink, then drop the beer bottles in the recycling can. “Probably would’ve if we’d gone longer. You’d have me beat on stamina.”

She can’t stop her automatic, teasing, too sultry for its own good reply. “Oh, I doubt that.”

You do a quick double take.You stare at her over your shoulders, eyes the size of dinner plates. Then, your lips press together before quirking upwards in a shy smile. You laugh softly. “Yeah, well, your mechanics would’ve won, in the end.” You toss the last of the bottles into the recycling can, then turn and step to the bar. “Figured it was just best to–” you draw your fingers across your neck in a quick slash and click your tongue “–cut things quick, override the locking mechanisms.”

“Smart,” Sevika purrs.

You lick your lips, then grin. You eye her for a moment, shifting from foot to foot –then, you grab the remaining bottles and crouch so you can stow them beneath the bar counter. “Course, helps that you’re shit at arm wrestling, too.”

“Excuse me?” she laughs, caught off guard and bemused. “Run that by me again?”

“You’re shit at arm wrestling.” You chuckle as you stand. “Your form’s terrible. Makes you easy to beat, even if I wasn’t stronger than you.”

She grins wide, exhilarated. Fighting words. “Oh, is that how it is?”

You plant your palms against the bartop. “‘S how it seems to me.” You smirk –which grows into a smile as she looks you over–then prop your right arm against the counter. “I could show you a couple tricks. Improve your odds a bit.”

She takes the bait like the happiest, dumbest fish that ever lived and sets her right elbow atop the counter. “Teach me your ways, oh wise one.”

“Right off the bat–” You reach forward and adjust the angle of her arm. “‘S really not about raw power. I mean, it helps, but angles are a lot more important.” Your hands slide along the length of her arm, adjusting things until you’re satisfied with how she’s positioned. You nod to yourself, then move to her wrist. You hold her right hand with both of yours. “Gotta think about how you’re holding your hand, too. Too many people wind up pushing with their forearms. Means that they got their hands at the wrong angle, most of the time. You want to be pushing with your upper arm and shoulder.”

“Whatever you say, coach,” she drawls, layering on the sarcasm to –hopefully–hide how breathless she is.

You snort, then lower your left hand and grip her right hand with yours –assume the position. “Alright. Try now.”

She does –not with as much vigor as she used in the initial match, but she still puts decent effort into it. Her eyebrows spike high when she feels less strain than earlier. “Shit.”

You flash her a lopsided grin. “See? Knowing what you’re doing helps.”

“Bite me.”

You fake a grimace. “Not until you shower first. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“You implying something?”

“I’ve seen how many people you can beat up in a week, Sev.”

She chuckles, then shrugs in concession. “Fair enough.” She grips your hand tighter and smirks wickedly before shoving against your hand, hard. “Hope you’re ready to join the list–”

You grunt –then brace against her onslaught and force her hand the other way.

“Shit!” Sevika strains against your hand, but it’s veritably useless as you slowly push her hand downward (at least you have to work harder for it, this time). “Son of a bitch –motherfucker!”

“Still stronger than you,” you fire back as you finally pin the back of her hand against the bartop. You smile, impish and sweet. “But that was a good try.” You grin when she glowers at you, then toss your head back and laugh when she flips you off with her left hand.

She can’t think of a retort; the wrestling tugged your shirt off kilter, and your laugh exposed something new –fresh, smooth ink along the side of your neck, previously hidden by your collar. She stares, tracing the way the tendrils of the flowers curve around your neck and down your clavicle before disappearing under your shirt. “That’s new.”

You look down at her, blinking rapidly, then crane your neck to look down when she gestures loosely at your chest. “Oh. Yeah.” You shrug with the opposite shoulder. “Wanted to do something for myself. Cover up some of the shit I got inside.” You hesitate, then swallow hard and ask. “Do –do you wanna see the rest of it?”

“Sure.” The meaning of your offer doesn’t really hit until you let go of her hand so you can start unbuttoning your top. Sevika locks her knees to keep from toppling over as all the blood rushes Southward from her head. Janna, help me.

Mercifully, you only undo the top three buttons on your shirt. Unmercifully, that gives you enough leeway to push the right side of your shirt down over your shoulder, revealing more of your chest and your neck.

Oh, and the tattoo.

It’s pretty. It’s a good piece, too, done by someone who knew what they were doing. The design is a dense cluster of flowers that fans up the side of your neck and down over your collarbone.

“That’s real pretty,” Sevika ekes out, voice gone to gravel. She reaches up to touch it, but catches herself before her hand leaves the bar. Don’t startle her. “Do you mind?”

It takes you a moment, but you look down when she gestures with her flesh hand. “Oh.” You let out a soft, trembling breath. Your throat flexes as you swallow. “Yeah –go for it.”

Everything that follows feels like a dream. The world seems to take on a warm, golden hue that overpowers the glaring neon lights and the dark shadow of night outside. It feels like she’s moving through molasses, achingly slow as she lifts her hand towards your neck.

Your skin is unbelievably soft beneath her fingertips. The lines of ink stretch slightly as she traces down your neck and over your shoulder.

“This okay?” Sevika murmurs.

“Yeah.”

Something about your heavy, trembling exhale makes her look up.

You’re staring down at her with wide, dark eyes. Your lips are parted, and you’re practically panting despite standing still.

But you’re not pulling away. You’re not shaking. If anything, you’re practically melting beneath her hand. And your gaze is locked on her face –practically zeroed in on her mouth…

Oh.

She owes Ran a drink. Or another kick in the shin. Maybe both.

This, however, is at least more familiar territory –so long as she plays her cards right.

Various options flit through her mind, but they all desiccate before they reach her tongue. She quickly finds herself locking up instead as she tries to figure out what the fuck to say. Shitshitshitshitshit–

(She’s never been more grateful that you kicked everyone out. Ran would never let her live this down.)

“Ask her out, or get over it.”

Sevika swallows hard. Go big or go home. Not like the world’s gonna end if she says ‘no.’ She clears her throat. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re really fucking attractive?”

“I–” Your eyes go wide as you sputter. Your gaze flicks between her eyes and her mouth. “Not –no. Not really.”

“Shame,” Sevika drawls. She traces her thumb down the stem of one of the flowers inked into your neck, then looks back up at you. “You’d think they’d have eyes. I’ve noticed since the first time we met.”

You snort, equanimity somewhat restored. “What, in an illegal prison fight club soaked in the blood of others?”

She smirks and winks at you. “You made it work.”

You draw your lower lip between your teeth as you smile. You duck your head bashfully, then brace your forearms against the countertop –which puts you closer to her height. “I hope you won’t be offended if I say that I didn’t notice you ‘like that’ from the start.”

Her gut drops. “Oh?”

You shake your head, gaze still glued on the countertop. “I was, uh, a little concerned with surviving –making sure you didn’t knock my teeth out with your metal fist, that sort of thing.” You let out a little laugh, then look at her. “But I noticed later.”

Warmth blooms in her chest and abdomen. She grins, soft and slow. “Really?” Her grin grows when you smile shyly and nod. “Well, shit. Lucky me.” She strokes her thumb along your tattoo again; satisfaction curls in her stomach when you shiver.

“I–” You lick your lips and look at her eyes, then her lips, then back up, then back down again, then back up again. “I don’t…” Your gaze locks onto her lips when she smirks; your pupils blow wide, and you let out a ragged, heavy breath. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Heady elation blooms in her chest and quickly spreads through her body. “That,” she murmurs as she slides her fingers beneath your chin and leans in, “sounds great to me.”

Your lips are soft against hers. Hesitant. You freeze, scarcely even breathing.

But you’re not pulling away –or panicking–so she decides to stay the course. She presses her lips a bit more firmly against yours, then smirks when you let out a quiet moan and angle your head towards hers. There we go. After a few moments, she breaks the kiss and pulls back incrementally to assess your interest level.

You’re trembling. There’s a faint glow of sweat on your forehead. Your breaths come ragged and fast, chest rising and falling heavily. Your eyelids are half-lidded, pupils blown so wide that your eyes nearly look black.

Before she can do anything, you lean in and kiss her again; this time, it’s her turn to moan against your mouth.

It’s clumsy. It’s easy to tell that you don’t have much –if any–experience in this department. But your unabashed eagerness more than makes up for lacking finesse.

Sevika gently grasps your jaw with her right hand, guiding you through the series of kisses that follow. She carefully angles your head as she pleases, and pulls back intermittently to both catch her breath and see what you’ll do. When you keep following her lead, she decides to nip at your lower lip –just to see if it’ll draw you out of your shell more.

You let out a throaty growl when her teeth graze your lower lip –and then you pull away.

A mix of disappointment and fear flash through her stomach –but it all drains away when you vault over the counter and land next to her. She smirks as you crowd into her space, but frown when genuine trepidation settles over your face. “What?”

Your brows pinch together. “I–” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “I don’t… I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

Oh. That’s all. She smiles, lax and confident, then places her hands on your broad shoulders. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

“Where?”

She slides her hands down your chiseled arms, then takes your hands and places them on her hips. “Anywhere.”

You’re too still at first –nerves driven by inexperience. But you loosen up when she nips at your lower lip again. You draw in a guttural breath, then squeeze her hips tighter when she curls her fingers into your waist. You press closer to her when she slides her tongue against yours. When she slides her right hand up the back of your neck and tugs at the soft hair at your nape, you growl, then slide your hands around her ass and squeeze.

Finally. Sevika moans softly and arches against you. She wraps her right arm around the back of your neck, so she can keep you close, and rests her left hand on your hip. She plunders your mouth with her tongue, then moans again when you grope her ass more firmly. She hooks one metal finger through one of the belt loops on your pants and tugs you closer –then gasps when you shove against the bar.

You crowd against her, kissing her fiercely, eagerly. Your hands cup her ass and lift, forcing her onto the balls of her feet so you have better access to her.

Surprise flits up her spine. She’s not used to being in this position; most women come to her to be manhandled, not the other way around. But she can see the appeal of it; there’s a certain giddiness in the gut that accompanies it, like the hang time from jumping across rooftops.

The kiss devolves into something artless and hungry. The two of you meet each other in the middle, pressed against each other like teenagers in a closet.

She’s starting to get into that state where she feels like she’s melting into you, and vice versa. The bar, the faint drone of passersby always present in the Lanes, the buzz of the neon lights that wrap around the bartop, the arm wrestling match less than an hour ago –all of it’s gone, blurred into background coloration like splotches on one of those fancy, impression-type paintings, for which Pilties drop the equivalent of a Trencher’s life earnings (and then some). There’s that familiar, ravenous ache in her cunt. She ought to ask you back to her place; The Last Drop hardly seems poignant enough for your first time. But the notion of stopping your eager exploration of her body is downright offensive –especially when your open mouth catches her jaw and sends arousal curling through her gut.

You pause when she tips her head back. A few ragged pants fan across the sensitized, blood-hot skin of her neck. You swallow, then clear your throat. “I –is this–”

“Yes.” She curls her right hand around the back of your neck, then gently presses your forward until you lean the rest of the way in and press your lips against her throat. Her eyelids flutter as you trail soft, closed mouth kisses over the hollow of her throat. She moans softly, and her fingers curl into your short hair. Fuck. She waits for a bit, letting you explore, but pipes up again when she feels you growing more hesitant –nerves winning out over exploration. “Use your tongue.” She shudders when you lick beneath her jaw. “Attagirl.”

The praise does something for you. You moan into her skin, then repeat the motion again. You swirl your tongue against her throat, mimicking the way the two of you had kissed seconds before.

“That’s it,” Sevika encourages you, eyes rolling back in her head. She rolls her hips against you, then groans when you press closer, neatly pinning her against the bar. “Good girl.”

You whine, loud and broken, then lift. You half lay her out on the bar, then support the rest of her by locking your arms just beneath her ass. You bend over her and bury your face in her neck, devouring her like a starved stray.

Sevika locks her ankles behind your back. She clutches at the back of your shirt with her right hand, and braces herself against the bartop with her left arm. She’s in the perfect position to grind against you, so that’s just what she does.

A small, idle fragment of her mind notes just how great this is. Yes, she enjoys having her way with women –and she’ll get to you soon enough–but there’s something to be said for receiving. It’s a new spin on “being eaten alive,” and she’s never been happier to be dinner.

She slides her fingers into your hair when your mouth trails lower, towards her clavicle. “Good girl.” She gasps, then tightens her grip on your hair when you drag your teeth over her collarbone. “That’s it –good girl, good girl–”

You moan and grind your hips against hers–

Something crashes in the alleyway outside. There’s a loud slam, followed by the crystalline crack of shattering glasses. An enraged, muffled shout ensues, followed by more heavy thudding.

You both freeze.

She recovers first. A few minutes of hearing proves it’s just a couple of angry drunks going at it –she can hear slurred, if muffled, arguing and grunting that accompanies being punched. Idiots. She turns back to you–

You’re completely stiff. Your eyes are wide, gaze flicking around the bar. You’ve gone from holding her to gripping the edge of the bar top.

Sevika winces faintly when she hears your knuckles crack. She opens her mouth to reassure you–

Another thud makes you flinch –and then you press down against her.

Sevika grunts. She tries to sit up, only for you to push her back down. She stops struggling when you use your arm to cover the top of her head. What the–

There’s something so deeply protective about the gesture that it makes her brain short circuit. You’re literally covering her with your body, as though the ceiling’s about to collapse on top of the both of you.

It’s sweet. It’s also bewildering because nothing bad is fucking happening. It’s just drunks in the alley; they’ll probably pass out long before they could ever beat each other to death.

Sevika gingerly splays her fingers against your back, between your shoulder blades. She murmurs your name, but gets no response –not even a glance of recognition. Her stomach drops when another round of shouting makes you flinch. She feels your chest push against hers as your breathing speeds up –and okay, that’s enough, time to divert things. She says your name, louder this time, then carefully cups the side of your face with her right hand. “Hey, baby. It’s okay. Just look at me, alright?”

You jolt when her thumb sweeps across your cheek. You do look down at her, though, and let out a shaky breath when you meet her gaze.

She revels, just for a moment, in how quickly you melt again under her attention. You’re still tense –you haven’t let up your death grip on the bar top–but your shoulders loosen up and your breathing slows a bit. You swallow hard, then lean every so slightly into her touch.

Focus. She can already feel herself getting sucked back into dreamy, brainless bliss. Focus, focus, focus. She blinks hard, then clears her throat. “Hey. Let’s get out of here, yeah? My place is quieter.” She pushes up on her left arm so the counter isn’t digging into her back. “More comfortable.”

“Oh.” Your eyes go wide. “Uh–”

Sevika swallows a grimace. Shit. Maybe Ran was right; she’s rusty, too eager, and now she’s pushing too fast. “It’s okay if you don’t–”

“No, no,” you cut her off. “We can –I just–” You set her down, then lick your lips as you rock from foot to foot. “My bed’s probably bigger.” You shrug and shove your hands in your pants pockets. “That’s all.”

Only several years of playing cards keeps her from sagging in relief. She nods, trying to process as panic flashes and ebbs, then takes a moment to study you. She notes the tightness in your shoulders, the way you’ve got your head ducked, and presses her lips together faintly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

Your eyes flash, and you step closer to her. “It’s not,” you growl, “an issue of want.” You swallow, then let out a self-deprecating laugh –which, fortunately, prompts you to relax a little. “I just won’t know what I’m doing, s’all.”

“I can work with that.” Sevika closes the distance between the two of you, gripping your hips when you bend down and kiss her again. She savors the feeling of your lips for a moment, then pulls away and grins up at you. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

[reds-writings]

Hey!!! I wanted to start this out by saying that your writings for Rust has been nothing short of amazing ! There aren't enough fics out there for Rust, and yours have honestly been getting me through it.

Now, idk if this is the type of ask you were looking for, but with Old Man Rust, especially when he was in Alaska all that time- I've always wondered the details about his time out there (besides the obvious/what we already know). I mean- it's Rust we're talking about, and that poor tortured man...it couldn't have been great.

I know he spent most of his childhood up there alone with his father and such, but this time around? After everything happened? I've always assumed his self-isolation was probably at the highest it'd ever been, especially with how he talked about it.

Idk- I've always wanted to know his thoughts/feelings about so many different scenes/things within the show, but this is definitely one of the biggest ones. Even if you relate it to the jj universe- I think adding a partner adds layers to my curiosity on his experience/thoughts/feelings. I know when you answered that fluff prompt ask, them being away from each other for all that time was talked about; he still loves her very much, and is incredibly troubled about all of it.

Anyways! I feel like I've gotten a bit carried away, so I'll stop before I keep going 💀. You definitely don't need to feel obligated to respond or spend time on this, but know that your contribution to the true detective community on here is greatly appreciated 🥺.

Howdy! I love this ask!! The more detailed the more fun! And thank you so much for the love ahhh!!

(this will include some spoilers ahead for the JJ universe pls don't kill me lol)

I love the dissection of Rust's reasoning for returning to Alaska, of all places, after the big fight of 02. My fave idea being that he did it as a form of self-punishment for taking part in hurting his only companions in Louisiana. Applying these events to the JJ universe: the incident with Maggie will still be taking place sadly. But hear me out!!!!

In 02 with the resurgence of the Yellow King/Carcosa Rust easily found himself obsessively spiraling back into the Dora Lange case. With all the frustration and lack of support from the department (and Marty), he resorts back to nastier habits and ways of regarding those around him with JJ!Reader unfortunately being in the crossfire more often than not. It places a heavy strain on the relationship to the point where she reaches a breaking point bc tbh he is not being a very good partner at all (stress and frustration can only be an excuse for so long). They break up with her telling him to practically get it together if he wants them to ever continue but of course, shit just spirals more out of control with his hurt and anger so of course it reaches its crescendo with him having to quit then Maggie using their incredible emotional vulnerability to an advantage which he ends up regretting immediately of course because even if he's not currently with JJ!Reader it's no less of a pathetic form of betrayal.

When the fight goes down and he loses Marty it's one thing. Seeing the reader and the tie between them being severed completely with no one else but himself to blame is just about as close to dying as he'll get in that moment. He shit on her trust once and for all and took a friend from her in the process. He knows that there can be no forgiveness even if he were to beg with whatever last bit of reverence he had or sell his sorry soul.

Alaska is a bitterly lonely time for him and from tidbits he mentions in the show he didn't do much to change that loneliness while he was away. Circling back to before I think it was his way of extreme penance and if it weren't for another resurgence in the case he would've probably let himself die there alone with all the drinking/carelessness and wouldn't have had it in him to feel sorry about it if it happened.

Coming back to Louisiana things have changed plenty with Marty, Maggie, and the reader. I think the way he prioritizes his crumbled relationship with Marty (for both the case's sake and his) versus how he passively regards Maggie in the bar will forever be interesting to me. I feel like he'd be scared as hell to even come near the reader knowing she still harbors hatred and pain but Marty the Meddler drags her back in because he knows the two will never be able to truly stay away from each other. It takes a lot and the relationship may never be exactly what it once was but he'd selfishly rather have her near in some capacity than never at all once he's gotten a taste of her presence after so many years. I can't wait to write all that angst and yearning bc we love tension 🤭

Now that was a ramble omg! Hopefully, I didn't stray too off course!

[ikamigami]

I think that there's something going on with Sun.

In this post I'll be talking about how recently Sun is acting a little bit odd.

We all know that Sun was worrying about Moon even before Earth told him what Moon was planning to do. So it's not that weird that he's more stressed. But there are some things that makes me think that there's more going on with Sun. Something which Sun hides from others - probably because he doesn't consider it to be a big deal or even a real issue..

I talked plenty of times about how people suffering from depressive psychosis often don't say anything about their symptoms. We saw that with Sun as well. Sun didn't open up about having hallucinations on his own. Both Earth and Moon found out by accident. Because they were there when Sun was hallucinating.

I said that it wouldn't be surprising if Sun was hiding his symptoms once again after feeling better. I've seen people saying "how Sun would be hiding his issues for so long?" etc. And that's a good question. But answer is really simple - this disorder is just like that. I like to think about it as a silent disorder. Also Sun probably thinks that he's okay. So why he would bother anyone about his "not a big deal" issues..

Beside that I was hiding my symptoms for more or less a decade so...

And with what I said recently that I think that Sun may not be that much aware of what exactly is going on with him - he's only slightly aware which is common for people suffering from depressive psychosis hence why they hide their symptoms because they feel ashamed and they feel like a burden and Sun also may think that it's not that important which he even told that Earth - it wouldn't be surprising that he could have another psychotic episode without him realizing it.

It's most probably that his family thinks that when hallucinations ended and that he seems fine that it was just a one time thing and not that he might be suffering from disorder - Sun also thinks the same.

And here's the thing. In depressive psychosis it's hard to tell when next episode may happen. Often times a person suffering from it will experience a relapse after receiving treatment (even many years after the treatment). So what about when someone isn't treated for depressive psychosis or if treatment isn't specifically for depressive psychosis (and we all know that Earth isn't a professionalist) - having another psychotic episode is more likely to happen.

So now when I explained some things we can get to the point of this post.

Sun is acting odd recently.

I already talked about Sun's line "sometimes I wonder if it'd be better if Moon and I never separated" from second therapy episode and explained what it is a callback to and what it probably means.

So let's talk about other "odd" things.

On second family therapy episode near the end Sun walked up to a radio to turn it off and under his breath he said "please stop". The issue is that radio wasn't even on. This may mean many things. But when we consider what Sun said that he's paranoid about Moon's state - he didn't explain what he meant. And I think that it was a bad thing. Sun expressed having paranoid thoughts before which is quite common for people suffering from psychotic disorders. From my own experience - it's hard to ignore paranoid thoughts especially if they're persistent and it's worse if they're accompanied by delusions. So to say it shortly, Sun is probably very stressed out. But my point is that I think that Sun is hallucinating once again.

Another thing is when Earth went to talk with Sun and Lunar about Moon's situation (before they learned what Moon is up to) Sun was standing silently waiting for donut to come back. This whole situation was bizarre. And considering how Sun seemed unresponsive and that he barely had any reaction to what Earth told him that Moon might be up to something bad (even though Moon talked with Sun about what if Ruin was still here and if it'd be okay to sacrifice him to bring Solar back which definitely should've clicked in Sun's head).. and then he was just gone. He left the Daycare because he had a break but why he left before Earth got back? And why he didn't inform anyone that he went home - cause I think that this is what he did, right? I found these things to be odd..

Another thing is when Papyrus appeared in the Daycare Sun was literally spamming words from his mouth.. it was odd to me that no one even said anything about it in the comments. Why Sun was talking so fast? The change in speech is common for people suffering from psychotic disorders. And we had plenty of examples when Sun was either talking faster so it was hard to understand what he's saying or he was mumbling to himself which often times was very hard to understand or even hear what he was saying..

Another thing was in yesterday's episode - Sun went for donut to bring it back to the Daycare and he was talking about someone who takes the donut out and thinks that's funny. But who Sun could possibly be talking about? Dazzle? Jack? Kids? Maybe kids because that's what he told Earth previously. But I find it quite odd because it wasn't happening before. I just find it odd.

But what's more important is that Sun said that he was tired of doing things. He said that he could sleep forever - hmm and never wake up? Seems like he's depression is talking. This is something more concerning also considering that Moon from that dimension mentioned a few times how depressed and sad Sun seems.. to which Sun denied it - but like I said he probably thinks that he's fine because it's not a big deal and others are in worse state like Moon for example.

If there was more things that you found odd in Sun's behaviour let me know ^^

But I'm really concerned that Sun's mental state is worsening but the worst thing is that he isn't even aware of this..

[hesawifebeaterdanusethegun]

Being With Herr König Part 4:

Part 3

Okay guys, here's part 4, I'm not sure how long this will go, I guess I'll just write until I get to the ending I'm planning. As always, likes and comments are greatly appreciated, you don't know how excited it makes me to get a comment on something I've written or drawn!

Neither of you knew, though you could have guessed, the other had a stressful, sleepless night. You both gave up on even trying to sleep tonight after your encounter. It was already getting light out anyway. You were on your third cup of black coffee when you saw the sun peeking out from behind the thick trees outside the back of your apartment building. You busied yourself doing the dishes, washing your coffee mug and the few other miscellaneous dishes you hadn't deemed worthy of immediate attention the night before.

Your mind was still reeling from König's visit the night before. He'd told you about the creatures he lovingly called his "cuckoos" because of the way they reproduced, he'd explained that he was a part of a small group of those with the resources to conduct large scale breeding experimentation, an elite group that went back hundreds of years at least. He'd said that just telling you this information without express permission could endanger the entire project, but he wanted no secrets between you.

Your mind wandered back to the kiss you'd shared last night just before things got complicated. His lips had been soft, his kiss a bit prickly with facial hair, and he was so gentle, holding you as if you might break if handled too roughly. You found that you much preferred reliving this moment in your head rather than that which came after it.

You decided to take a long hot shower. The shower was one of the places you went to think, it relaxed you and helped you think rationally. You gathered your towel and robe and headed to the bathroom. Hanging the towel and robe on hooks inside the door, you shed your pajamas and set the shower temperature as hot as you could stand before climbing in. The steam instantly cleared your sinuses and relaxed your muscles.

You stayed in the shower until the water ran cold before shutting it off and stepping out of the tub, toweling yourself dry and donning your robe. Making your way to your room you walked through the living room and just for a second and very faintly, you thought you heard a screeching coming from outside, but somewhere far away. You went to your room to get dressed.

Remembering what Herr König had said last night during his unexpected visit, you donned a pair of straight cut jeans, a pair of combat boots, a t-shirt, and an old leather jacket you'd picked up thrifting back home in the U.S. many years ago. You thought that should be warm enough for a forest walk at night this time of year.

He'd told you he would be here at dusk, giving you plenty of time to wrestle with all the thoughts racing through your head since his departure. You made yourself another cup of coffee and took your usual seat at the kitchen table. You thought of these creatures he'd spoken of, these fascinating almost-human creatures. You thought of what König was doing here with his resort and found that you were more amazed and curious than anything else. Any disgust you felt at the ethical violations pushed to the back of your mind, you thought only of König's love and reverence for these animals, and your love and reverence for him.

As you mulled over the events of the past 24 hours, your mind inevitably wandered back to the kiss the two of you had shared last night. You imagined you could still taste him on your lips if you concentrated hard enough. You prayed that it wouldn't be the last time you kissed him, you couldn't bear that.

Just as you noticed the sun had started to set, you heard a car pull up outside. You heard the door open and slam shut and a few moments later someone knocked on your door forcefully, three times. You smiled, knowing exactly who it was just from the knock, getting up from the table and heading from your small kitchen to the door.

Undoing both locks, you pulled the door open revealing a much more put-together Herr König, not a hair out of place as usual. He wore a deep purple button up shirt and brown slacks. Uncharacteristically, he wore very nondescript hiking boots instead of his usual dress shoes or loafers.

"Hi," you smiled at him, a little unsure how to act now that things had changed so much and so rapidly between you.

"Guten abend, mein abendstern," He took your hand, kissing your knuckles and releasing it again. "Shall we?" he gestured out the door and waited for you to pass ahead of him and pull the door shut behind you, locking it as you always did (and would pay extra care to do so from now on) before he started walking next to you to the passenger seat of his car. Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you to get in, shutting it behind you before heading to his side of the vehicle and climbing inside, starting the engine.

"Are you ready for this? You don't have to do this," he told you. "I understand if it's too much for you to handle."

"No, I want to. I want to know, I want to see and understand this thing that means so much to you. No matter how I feel about it, I know how I feel about you."

He smiled softly, his eyes shining as he looked into yours. He took your hand. "Thank you." he whispered. You smiled back.

He let go of your hand and placed it on the steering wheel before reaching down and pulling the car into gear and leaving your apartment parking lot, headed for the resort. The sun had already sunk below the mountains, casting everything in a dark blue light.

Part 5

[braindeathaoe]

❄️December Goals❄️ (30/11/24)

We've got a rather hectic month coming up now, don't we? In a few short weeks I'll have family visiting again, and the weather is already being horrible.

~How horrible are we talking?~

Well... there's been an unprecedented amount of snowfall in the past week alone. Just 2 days ago I had to shovel snow for an hour to clear out the driveway, only for several tens of inches to accumulate by the following morning.

If this keeps up, I won't have the energy to write. My minimum word count forecast for December is set for...

+5,000 WORDS

~Which would bring the total word count to 20k, right?~

Exactly. It's not a lot compared to what I've written this month, I know. I may be able to manage +10k, but it really depends on the weather and whatever events unfold around me.

I'd like for the demo to be released sometime late February, so I've got plenty of time to sort things out till then.

~I thought you didn't have a release date?~

I don't! But that month in particular holds a special place in my heart, because there was a time not too long ago that I thought of myself as a monster.

-----Vent Incoming!-----

For my entire life, my mental health has been neglected by those who were supposed to take care of me. It's no overstatement to say that I was an extremely problematic child, but I didn't deserve to be emotionally abandoned.

At the age of 7, I had already been diagnosed with Autism, ADHD, depression and other behavioral disorders. I couldn't make many friends, and an abusive environment at home set me back even further.

Bottles of pills were my only support.

I was around 15 when I began having horrible intrusive thoughts, every second of every day. I imagined myself being killed in terrible ways in-between bouts of déjà vu, and deluded myself into believing I was stuck in a time loop. I stopped going to school when I was 16.

Nobody noticed or cared.

It took everything I had to distract myself from the bad thoughts, throwing myself into fantasies and ignoring everyone and everything around me—and it still wasn't enough to escape them.

Months turned into years. The thoughts kept getting worse.

I ended up terrified of how people viewed me; thought of myself as a failure, useless, too disabled and so on. I stopped going outside because I didn't want to feel the eyes judging me. So many of my doubts were instilled in me by my addict mother, who only benefitted from my existence with disability payouts.

I had become so isolated, alone and hopeless. Then all of a sudden I was 18, and no guidance had ever prepared me for that. For my birthday that year, I was surrounded by people I had never met—my mom's friends, I assume. Complete strangers ate my cake and mingled with each other as I sat by myself.

The better part of a year passed me by, and something in my mind finally snapped. I broke down screaming and crying, not stopping until I could taste blood and my voice betrayed me. I don't remember what the final straw was. I didn't even care anymore.

2 days later, I admitted myself into a psych ward, and while I was in there... I was confused to find people treating me normally. They all showed me such kindness, and patience. Nobody judged me for my struggles.

All of those horrible experiences and memories, with being talked down to and humiliated and thrown aside... it led me to that ward. In February of 2020, after years of believing I was worthless, I was told otherwise. I learned what was wrong with me, and was given the tools to fix myself.

My fears were proven to be my greatest detriment; I had hope again.

When I left that place at the end of the month, I walked outside to a clear blue sky. Looking up, I saw the sun and decided that it was more beautiful than I had ever seen it.

With all that said, if I can, I'd like to release the demo in February. Maybe it won't be ready in time, but I'll try. Thank you for taking the time to read this far. If you happen to be suffering in the same way I did, remember this:

You're not a monster, no matter how bad the thoughts might get, so long as you never act on them. Believe me, I've seen the worst of it.

[sparkanonymous]

Dragons Rising: Season 2

I'm a little bit more nervous to watch season 2; I like watching things that make me feel happy, and from the brief spoilers I've gotten about this season, this is probably gonna be more sad than anything... But I'll try.

I will be continuing to work on the two pieces I was working on before, so check the bottom of this post if you want to see my progress! (This goes for my season 1 notes post, too, by the way.)

⚠️ Spoilers for episodes 1-5!

Divider by cafekitsune

Episode 1: The Blood Moon

New Jordana look, huh? I don't really like it right now, but I can grow to get used to it.

So are the lines on her face just... permanent?

Good to know Raz has night vision.

Jordana is clearly scared about all of this... I wonder how long it will take for her to switch sides.

The bad guys always seem too distracted, intentionally taking their time to get to their targets. I kinda understand why it was that way for the little phone video in the beginning of the episode, since it's such a cramped space to work with and the movements might cause motion sickness. But with every other fight? No.

Wow, Ryu grew up quite fast.

Fugidove? In 2024?

Holy fuck, the news reporter remembered Pixal? Most of the ninja didn't even remember her. Actually, practically nobody in Ninjago city. He's either a super fan, or the writers completely forgot that fact for this season.

Is Intelligent George a parody on someone? I can't tell.

Did Sora really have to spell that out? Did they just... not think that that people watching the second season had already watched the first? I feel like spelling it out like that will make people not want to go back and rewatch the first season to see what they missed.

Also, with how much bigger Ryu is, I would've thought more time had passed. The way Sora had said that line makes it sound like she just unlocked her true potential instead of it being like... a few months ago or something.

Okay, so now we're on the "Arin really wants elemental powers" thing. He seemed mostly fine with that last season. What changed?

Arin, if you're looking for someone to be talking about those still lost in the merge, why the hell would you watch a Youtuber who only wants to talk about the ninja to sell merch? There are plenty of people that you could talk to; the people you're currently around would be far better to talk to about this. I know that they don't have the solution right now, but they are far more likely to come up with one before a fucking Youtuber.

Sora and Arin are such good friends. Even if their interests are completely different, they still partake in the other's activities, especially when the other is looking blue.

Poor Frohicky, lol

Zane would have already heard and figured out these figures of speech back in like... season 1 or 2. But he's still cute. I like that Kai and Zane are playing the video game together.

The layout of this game makes me think of the TMNT arcade game. Nice touch.

Hm... so Lloyd's getting more visions... or he's having a nightmare... or both?

So... Zane and Sora are gonna get taken down. Is Arin going to rebel, betray them? Beatrix is clearly coming back, which I figured would happen after she disappeared into that merge-quake at the end of last season.

Wu watching over his nephew is nice, but... where's Garmadon? Sure, Wu is probably more iconic and a better teacher, but Garmadon is Lloyd's father. I want to see him again... would he have the same golden glow that Wu's ghost does, or would he have a purple glow or be a purple void?

Also, where's Nya? I don't think I've seen her at all this episode.

Why is Arin's voice so soft now? It's like he's constantly whispering into the mic?

Kreel not even denying that she tried to make their mech explode back in episode 1 lol

Wait is the junkyard ghost Wu?

Wow, that was a small investigation montage.

I like Ryu's teenage model over the baby one, but he reminds me a little too much of Toothless.

That old lady shaming those throwing away a good dragon... but not taking the dragon? Oh, come on; she would've totally tried to take Ryu back home with her. It's an old lady thing.

Oh my god, Arin stop self-pitying; this is not the time.

Arin, they will be proud of you; you're a ninja.

Lloyd's gonna have a heart attack.

Woah, the camera during this fight is really wobbly. It actually feels like Arin, Sora, and Ryu are in danger.

The actual panic in Lloyd's voice.

Give me the smoke guy's name. I need it. He's really cool.

Episode 2: Shattered Dreams

Wait, the writers of destiny are still a thing? I would've thought that they would have disbanded after it was proven that writing the future didn't actually mean anything.

Their idea of fun is bagels? Yeah, I can see it.

Wait, so their entire religion isn't completely founded on made up bullshit?

Lloyd, why would you drink that?

Sora, you sound like Raven Queen.

Arin, that's robot-ist. In front of Zane? Really?

Y'all are in broad daylight. So much for being ninja.

Everybody judging Sora's graffiti, including Zane lmao

Hitting Zane in the head with a non-magic teapot lmfao

The Gong of Shattering is such a terrible name.

Poor Arin, lol

Oh, no. This is Arin's undoing. He's gonna hit the gong in order to try and get an elemental power, he'll turn evil, and then fight beside Raz. I'm calling it now!

I really enjoy Percival's character now. He's learning, he's helping out, and he seems to be kinder than when he was under Beatrix's rule. I think the rebellion was good for him.

The Master Writer was so scared, he didn't even try to run. Wow. Anyone will let the bad guys overthrow them, huh.

Euphrasia should seriously train with the other ninja; she's far too weak to be looking after a kingdom alone. (Yes, I know that they're making all the ninja really bad at fighting to make it look like the smoke ninja is way stronger than them, but still.)

It's not called the Blood Moon for anything good. Is it ever?

You're supposed to be sneaky; that glowing green spinjitzu is not sneaky in any way.

Why did Euphrasia have to say that? She could have looked relieved instead of saying that terribly said "Thank goodness your okay!"

Zane, that doesn't answer shit. A written language can't look evil. That's the dumbest shit I've ever heard.

Should Euphrasia even be here to save the Master Writer? She's using a crutch. Actually, does literally everybody have to be here for this? Bigger groups are hard to be stealthy with, and most of them aren't really being useful. They should've picked three to go in while everyone else stays behind as back up.

So Raz was the reason the worms turned evil last season. Hm...

I'm still not over it. Why is Ryu here? It should've been Lloyd, Arin, and Zane; Lloyd because he needs to confirm his visions, Arin because he's really foreshadowing something, and Zane to confirm the stupid language thing. Euphrasia would've been a good choice to bring if she wasn't using a crutch. Everyone else is just... here for no fucking reason except to just listen to the Master Writer. They're not really hiding, so any of the wolf-masked characters could easily find them. They didn't bother animating anyone except Lloyd and Arin going up the wall; they all just kinda teleported. This is bothering me so bad. (Not everyone has to be here to listen. The three that would've gone could've spread the information off screen so it didn't become too repetitive.)

See, I fucking told you. Now Lloyd's having another panic attack.

Why did the gong only affect the wolf-masks? Is the detail I missed that they have to be wearing the wolf mask to be affected by the gong? That seems dumb.

Lmao Kai

Woah, Zane glitching.

Episode 3: Beyond the Phantasm Cave

Wait, where did Kai's mech come from?

Of course when Lloyd asks for an answer, the source dragons come.

Wow, that source dragon from season 1 is so convincing, he convinced the other source dragons within seconds.

Why wouldn't Sora believe Lloyd after all of this?

Aw, Kai checking on Wyldfyre.

Nya, you trained under Wu for how long? You would know that, yes. He would bring you guys somewhere based on half-understood dreams.

Why is Zane always the one to keep an eye on the ship? Ugh.

"Now it sounds like the rotor sneezed!" Lmao Lloyd

It's sweet that Sora and Arin are talking to each other about fond memories, but... why? This came out of nowhere, and they just arrived at their destination. The writing here feels a little clunky.

Aw, now they all have grappling hooks.

Wow it sure took those snake things a while to come out to try and kill them.

Uh oh, Kai's powers not working very well...

Is this like the future telling ice thing in the original series?

Sora that is quite clearly static. How the hell did you think that was Kai?

Oh man, it's all their worst fears...

Oh, shit... The Jaya thing I've seen fanart for.

Poor fucking Nya... this is foreshadowing.

They have airjitzu. They could take the jump a lot more carefully.

Episode 4: Force From The East

Ooh, finally! Back to Cole.

God, Geo and Cole are so fruity.

That was a mouthful of exposition. They could've had a mini flashback of that moment from last season when Cole left and followed Wu. Sure, Geo didn't see that, but this show has never shied away from showing other character's perspectives during flashback sequences told by another character.

Geo being worried about Cole.

They're such an artistic family.

Bonzle is gonna make Geo panic.

Kai and Nya working together is sweet.

Me, too, Arin. Me, too.

The dragon speaking English instead of using telepathy or whatever.

"Should we... ask them what they want?" "Sure. What do you want?" *Gets obliterated* Lmao

Geo's so silly.

Finally; Cole comes to the rescue!

Bonzle's hiding something... I'm not sure what just yet. But she knew that they could leave when they previously couldn't.

Why does Zane have a Frohicky plushie? I'm so confused.

Why isn't Cole surprised to see Zane?

"- why do you have a frog-man-doll?" "It is a long and barely comprehensible story." I love them.

So that's why I thought the Glacier reunion was so... weird and terrible. They're in the middle of a chase scene.

I like how Zane tries to decipher what the problem is by examining his face... I'm so normal about this pairing, I swear.

I like how this episode is split into the stuff that Lloyd and crew were doing and Cole and family were doing, but I focus on just the Cole and family stuff. Mostly just Cole and Geo. They're family is really sweet and care about one another so deeply. Fritz and Spitz need more to do, though; they're kinda just... kids in the middle of everything, but they seem to be as strong and fast as the rest of their family, so... idk

Episode 5: The Spell at the Waterfall

Ah, the Zane and Frohicky side of the plot.

I understand what Frohicky is trying to accomplish, but Zane has already gone to him if he has a problem with the things he's doing. That's just the kind of guy Zane is. This tactic might have worked better with Kai or Lloyd.

Zane whacking the bad guy with the stupid fucking doll lmao

Why wouldn't Bonzle have told them earlier? Lmao what a mouthful.

Oh, so that kinda makes sense... kinda. For Bonzle to know when the could leave. But she would've sensed that opening a long time ago, and probably would have looked more worried throughout the beginning of last episode.

See? The entire Cole and Geo family is artistic.

Bonzle met Master Wu?!

Kai and Nya are so epic.

So, wait. i thought Wu would have taken her to meet the ninja, but I guess not?

Aw, Cole and Geo getting emotional about Bonzle's story.

"This reminds of the old days. Count me in." "That's what I'm talking about." Ugh... I love them too much...

So is one of the source dragons helping Raz? Or am I going crazy?

Of course, there are some critics I have. But I'm liking this so far, even with how often Lloyd was getting panicked and the amount of foreshadowing to future episodes I was getting. Still a little nervous about what's coming, though...

Current Progress: