#The mortifying ordeal of posting fic

[mommalosthermind]

So this happened:

Me: “I feel like I wrote Lisa kinda snotty in this passage, d’you think she could pull off snotty?”

Him: “Not really? If you want bitchy then you need Yae Miko, Lisa’s kinda normal unless you’re late with a book.”

Me: “…Lisa’s vaguely condescending though.”

Him: “Yeah, I can see that. Miko can be straight up mean but Lisa would be like, ‘Careful cutie, keep that up and I might forget your safeword,”

Which I can fucking hear, and it is thus completely not my fault that this immediately popped into my head:

(Lisa/Jean/Kaeya under the cut)

Teatime is meant to be sacred, you know. It’s a darling little ritual to break up the day. Peaceful, harmonious. If, lately, it’s also come with a delightful side of spending time with Jean, and occasionally Kaeya, well, that’s just two more reasons for teatime to be important, don’t you think?

Sometimes, though, not even the fear of Lisa’s wrath can keep Jean’s underlings from interrupting.

Lisa’s fingertips rub circles into her temples. In all honesty, she tuned out whatever crisis this is ages ago. Her tea’s lone gone. The other two cups, so carefully brewed, are cold. No one’s touched the assortment of sliced fruits, nor the biscuits.

It might be selfish of her, to be sad over such a silly thing, but really, is it? Jean works so hard. Lisa all but bullied her into routinely meeting up like this, and Kaeya’s no better. Yes, she’s sad about the loss of their quiet rest, the lack of time together, but at the heart of it, Lisa’s upset at how the rest of the world is intent on working them both into an early grave.

Varka’s in for an earful when he returns.

Half an hour. That’s all she’s trying to give them. Half an hour to breathe.

Instead, Kaeya paces the length of the rug, voice rising and falling in its most persuasive tones. Jean stands behind her chair, one hand curled over the back. Bruises are beginning to darken under her eyes. How much more lovely would she look, if she was simply allowed a full night’s sleep? How broad would those shoulders really be, if they weren’t coiled so tight with tension? For that matter, Lisa’s willing to bet Kaeya’s lip would swell so much sweeter if the teeth sinking into it weren’t so rife with worry.

Irritation spikes in Jean’s voice, calling Lisa back to the present. She purrs, “Careful cutie, keep that up and I might forget your safeword.”

They freeze. They always do. It’s adorable, really, how easy it is to trip them up like this.

Jean’s flush is a thing of beauty, much darker than Lisa can usually pull out with a single line.

Lisa tilts her head, and blinks.

Neither of them have moved. They’re simply… staring at one another.

Her brows bunch together. Hmm. Perhaps she’s overstepped.

All at once, Kaeya animates, a too-loud laugh filling the space between them all. He waves an extravagant hand in the air, ambling back to Jean’s side. “Be careful yourself,” he says, glancing from Jean’s red face to Lisa. “Lines that like are liable to lose you the soft domme reputation you’ve so pointedly cultivated.”

Lisa smiles, making sure to allow it to bloom slowly. She watches a lovely shiver work its way up Jean’s spine.

“What I’m hearing is you think I’d make a good domme,” she says, and allows her smile to curl into sultry as the edge of Kaeya’s lip tucks between his teeth.

Jean’s inhale is sharp.

Like the blustery thing he is, he opens his mouth as soon as he catches her looking. “Is that so? Do good dommes often ‘forget’ safewords?”

“Only with permission, darling. After all, it would be my job to take care of you, wouldn’t it? That includes giving you the punishments you want.”

Kaeya’s eye is blown wide enough to lose its star shape.

“Although, I do find myself far more interested in giving out praise over punishments. And I wouldn’t need to punish the two of you, now would I?”

“I feel,” Jean squeaks, stopping to clear her throat. “Oh my goodness,” her hands come up to pat at her still-burning cheeks.

Kaeya attempts what Lisa assumes is meant to be a laugh, but it comes out more like a rough breath.

“This is maybe not a work appropriate conversation,” Jean says, still squeaky, still red, still staring at Lisa like she’s never seen her before.

Lisa stands, and watches how they swallow in unison.

And then the door bangs open, Amber rushing in with another fistful of papers.

“You will not believe the amount of nonsense,” Amber exclaims, only to stop dead and stare at the three of them. “Um. Is everything okay here? Is this a bad time?”

Jean shakes herself, once, twice, and when she pulls her gorgeous eyes off Lisa for the first time in ages, Lisa finds that she’s had quite enough of that, thank you very much.

“It is, yes,” she says before Jean can dive right back into whatever inane thing needs her attention now. “Go ahead and drop that anywhere, and we’ll get back to you later, okay?”

Amber’s already nodding, her eyebrows pressed tightly together. “Yeah, yeah, okay, and I’ll tell Wyatt not to let anyone else in for now.”

The girl’s gone in the same rush she arrived, door thunking closed behind her. As an added precaution, Lisa activates her personal wards, watching both doors glow a faint purple.

“Did I know you could do that?” Kaeya asks mildly.

Jean’s already moving to collect the papers Amber left behind.

Lisa tuts. “Jeanie, sit.”

Jean sits.

Jean sits, and then an absolutely baffled expression takes over her pretty face. That flush is back in full force.

“Good girl,” Lisa says, leaning one hip on the table across from her.

Oh.

That flush goes so dark Lisa’s a little worried the poor thing’s gone dizzy.

Goodness, if this keeps up, Lisa is going to be the dizzy one.

“And I believe that’s my cue,” Kaeya chirps, easing around where Jean’s still gaping up at Lisa. “Mind undoing the door long enough to let me out?”

“I’m afraid I do mind. Your turn, sweetie. Sit down for me.”

“Aha,” Kaeya says, but his feet stop moving.

“Jeanie baby?”

Jean slings one arm out, tugging Kaeya in until he sits across her lap, held in place with her arms around his hips.

That one blue eye slides from Jean to Lisa and back again, as though he can’t decide where he should be looking.

“So good for me,” Lisa says again, delighting in the way the two of them melt into each other. “Aren’t you two just the prettiest little kittens I’ve ever seen.”

She sits back down, leaves them to press into each other, lets them keep their eyes on her as she starts preparing them all new cups of tea. When she looks up, Kaeya’s slouched down to cuddle into Jean’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around her middle. All three of those gorgeous eyes are fixed on her, exactly where she likes them best.

“Now then. I think we have some new things to discuss, and you two darlings have some safewords to pick out.” She winks, and relishes the way two sets of teeth sink into lower lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t forget them unless you want me to.”

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

Akai Shuuichi isn't afraid of heights. Like any sane person, however, he dreads the fall.

Though he questions his sanity. Because try as he might to stay away from the edge, it calls to him. Staring into sweet oblivion sends shivers down his spine, the uncertainty of his fate a thrill like no other. Most days he trusts in himself, his ability to walk the razor's edge, but he's fallen before. And it hurt.

Of course, pain is just a part of life he's learned to live with. In his line of work, people get injured all the time. And if you can't handle that, you have to be very lucky to make it out alive. For the longest time, death wasn't an option.

(Now, it wouldn't be so bad.)

So he steadied himself, got smarter, hardier. Better at avoiding situations that result in pain. And better at shutting it out, too, when it did appear, in order to keep going.

Why, then, does his chest ache and burn?

It's quite simple.

Layers and layers of ice, degrees of separation in place precisely to protect him from pain like this, melted through by Rei's blazing heat.

What a stupid thing he's done, to get attached again.

He could've tried to resist, at the start. Before things had gone too far. Before he got to know Furuya Rei.

But maybe, by then, it was already too late. In truth, he probably doomed himself years ago, when he accepted Scotch's offer of companionship. It brought Bourbon into his orbit, and the man's never been any less than doggedly persistent. Once Shuuichi let him in, he was never going to escape unscathed.

Shuuichi let him get too close, and got burnt as a result. Could see it coming, too, for the longest time. But how was he supposed to escape Rei's brilliance? His touch, devastatingly kind? It would be like trying to block out the sun - an exercise in painful impossibility.

So he's stopped trying, and embraced the wildfire that is Rei. Of course he burns, it's his nature.

(There's some things Shuuichi will need to reevaluate about his own, now that he has time. Because he certainly never thought of himself as a masochist, and yet, despite the pain, he knows one thing for certain: he wouldn't want things any other way.)

(Not one that is available to him, at least.)

Thus, he resorts to clinging to the vestiges of patience and composure he has cultivated for years to keep working through the situation with a cool head.

To do what is right.

He's putting back together what he tore apart, unwittingly, some three years ago now. Their struggle is over. They deserve to rest and recover, nurse their wounds - together.

It doesn't matter that he feels like he's bleeding out. He's used to patching himself up, after all.

And he's glad that he can do this for his... friends. The term invokes a foreign, gentle joy. They're no longer team mates, no longer allies, no longer forced together by circumstance. That's in the past, now. They stick to each other by choice, these days. That makes them friends, right?

He's happy for his friends.

Shuuichi pours himself another glass of scotch.

.

He should've picked a different hotel than his family.

Rather, his family should've really looked into a permanent residence already, considering Masumi has decided she doesn't want to go back to Britain. It's not like mother could refuse, after all the things his little sister did for her - not least of which, coming clean to Shiho and convincing her to share the APTX antidote, when all was said and done.

They're certainly not lacking in money, and Shuuichi's sure the Hanedas have connections that would make finding a flat, or even a house, possible, even on short notice.

Then again, Masumi told him they've been living in a hotel for more than half a year - maybe they've simply grown used to the comforts. It's not for him, but he's rarely seen eye to eye with mother.

Regardless, none of this excuses banging at his door at seven in the morning, on the dot.

"Shuu, are you up yet?"

Well, if he wasn't, he surely would be, now. Years undercover have left him a light sleeper out of necessity - it's a habit he won't be able to break for quite a while, even if he wanted to.

Still, the splitting headache and nausea make him consider playing dead. He doesn't feel much better than it, in any case.

Another set of knocks shakes his door. He loves his sister, and her determination is one of her best traits. But some of these days, it's also highly inconvenient.

"One moment."

He drags himself off the barstool, checks the mirror. Can almost hear Rei telling him he looks like death warmed over. Roughly two hours of sleep half-draped over the hotel room bar certainly didn't do him any favours.

He buttons up his shirt in an attempt at modesty, combs back his hair roughly. Part of him wants to send Masumi away - she's idolised him for too long. His little sister doesn't deserve to have the illusion of composure shattered, shouldn't have to see him, like this.

But she told him, at her birthday party, trying alcohol for the first time in their family home, under his watchful eyes. Always direct, but, as it turned out, even more so when tipsy:

'When all of this is over, I want my brother back. Just...you, however you are.'

If Shuuichi waits for a time where he feels ready to talk to her, won't stain her merely by existing in proximity, they'll never get to meet at all.

(He can't have that. He's missed too much, already.)

So he drags himself to the door, dishevelled, morning breath and all. Opens it a crack.

"Morning." If his voice is a little rougher than usual, there's nothing he can do about it.

Masumi pushes the door wide open so she can step in, giving him a wide berth. Inspects him head to toe, worry clear in her scowl and the wrinkle of her nose.

"...is this a bad time?", she asks, a glint to her eyes as she notices the half-empty bottle of scotch on the bar's counter. She can't help it - a detective through and through, and not good enough at feigning nonchalance yet. The evidence at the crime scene is surely forming a rather damning picture - he really should have put the bottle back into the bar before letting her in.

She plops down on the small sofa, makes herself comfortable while he opens the window. That should at least give them some relief from the smells accumulated overnight in the room.

"No. You're just here early. Is something the matter?"

He doesn't bother with pleasantries on principle, but at this hour he finds himself even less inclined. Besides - she wouldn't be here this early if it wasn't important. At least Shuuichi dearly hopes she has more sense than that.

Masumi looks down at the floor, a little guilty. He settles on the barstool and waits for her hesitation to blow over. Must really be looking like shit, if he's managed to curb her usual enthusiasm.

"I was going to ask for a favour, but I'm really not sure-"

He gives her an unimpressed look, from up upon his perch. It's a little too early to beat around the bush.

"Masumi." A single word, aimed to cut her off with calm precision. "How do I help?"

He might not be feeling well, but he's a professional - he's worked in worse conditions, for less important reasons. He'll drag himself out of his slump, if she needs him.

"You don't have to. It's silly." She gives him a sheepish smile, fangs and all.

"That's for me to decide, once you let me know what you need. So?"

She steadies herself, looks up at him, and sighs.

"For context, it's been months now, but Ran's still down about the whole Shinichi fiasco. So, we've decided to surprise her with an outing, tomorrow night."

So far so good, although he doesn't see where that concerns him.

"It was gonna be just us girls, and I'm confident that between Ran and myself, we can handle anyone stupid enough to try and cause trouble. But you know how it is in Beika. There's always a risk."

He does indeed know how Beika has somehow overtaken Osaka in every single criminal statistic there is. If she didn't have friends here, he would suggest moving elsewhere. He hears Nagano is very lovely, all year 'round.

"So we were discussing if there's anyone we could bring for company. And, well-"

"Go on."

"Sonoko somehow - I'd really like her resources - caught wind that Okiya Subaru is back on 'vacation'. She might have suggested asking him to accompany us?"

Not entirely unexpected - miss Suzuki had taken something of a liking to him, for whatever reason. It's a testament to the improvement of his acting skills. Engaging with kids and teenagers is a far cry more difficult and involved than his cover as Rye, somehow.

"...she may also be under the inaccurate impression, you, well, he could be a potential match for Ran."

At least his sister's on the right page there. That's not happening, never in a thousand years. Even if Ran wasn't barely more than half his age, she's too innocent, selfless, kind. If something like love exists in his heart, it couldn't ever be for someone like her - not again.

"You want me to decline the offer, then?" Simple enough.

Masumi shakes her head.

"No, Sonoko's right. It's always good to have an extra pair of eyes, and I'd love to have you with us. Been too long since we last spent time together. Besides, I don't think Ran is even interested in you - or anyone, really, after that disaster..." It takes him a moment to place the bitterness in her voice, uncharacteristic as it is.

"And that is unexpected?"

"No. I get it, she needs time. But she's miserable, and I want her to cheer up already..." Masumi mumbles the latter half to herself, subdued. Shuuichi's not sure he was supposed to hear that, but, well. He did.

"You'll get through to her eventually."

Good back-up gets one out of the toughest of scrapes, he can attest to that. If his sister is determined to get Ran to feel better, her persistence will make it come true, eventually.

"I sure hope so." She smiles up at him.

He finds his lips quirking up in response. "You focus on helping her. I'll cover your back."

He's sure he'll manage not to indulge miss Suzuki's delusions too badly. Rei often let him know how off-putting he can be, after all - finally a good use for his skills.

"Thanks, Shuu."

She gets up. Stops a couple of steps away from him, hovering uncertainly. When he raises an eyebrow, he can almost see the 'ah, fuck it', and then she's hugging him. Shuichi pats her back, a little awkwardly.

"Any time", he says and means it. "If there's anything else..."

She tenses next to him, but shakes her head.

"No, it's...I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Well, now he is a little worried. He'll need to keep an eye out for whatever's troubling her.

"Alright." He won't push her; she'll tell him if she needs to.

Masumi lets go and scurries off, fleeing for the door.

"Text me the time and place, I'll be there."

"Will do. See you tomorrow." She nods and waves her goodbye. He follows to lock the door behind her, the bolt sliding shut with a satisfying clack.

There's just one small problem. He currently doesn't have Okiya's get-up. And Okiya doesn't live in this hotel.

After dropping him off yesterday, Shuuichi had planned not to bother him for a couple of days. Well. That plan has just been tossed out the window rather unceremoniously.

It can't be helped. With a bit of apprehension, he calls Scotch.

.

Under the cover of darkness, Shuuichi scales the garden wall, dropping into the Kudo's backyard without issue. The alarms have been disabled according to the schedule he provided.

He slips in through the unlocked backdoor, shutting it behind himself. The security systems of the place are too familiar; he reactivates them on autopilot. Better to avoid unpleasant surprises, wherever possible.

Clearly, Scotch had a similar idea - Shuuichi can barely see his outline in the darkened kitchen, but the revolver he gave to him gleams in the dim light. It's nice to see he's making good use of it.

Sharp blue eyes scan him.

"The passphrase?"

Nostalgia steals the air from his lungs. Between unsafe safe houses, a trigger-happy Bourbon, and working with people best described as shapeshifters, they needed a way to identify themselves, and quickly, when they returned home.

It's been years since he's last spoken it, but the passphrase comes to him as easily as breathing.

"Eat, drink, and be merry..."

Scotch had suggested the words, years ago. The motto he lived by, when not on the job, in order to not lose his sanity. The motto he'd imposed on Rye, as well, when they became partners.

A cheshire grin in the night.

"...for tomorrow we die." Scotch finishes their creed, lowers the revolver.

"Welcome home, Rye."

.

It's always been easy to find comfort by Scotch's side. Between the greeting, making gyoza together - which goes much better than their attempts years ago - and watching mindless action movies with a glass of bourbon, ripping apart impossible stunt work, it's difficult not to fall into a simulacrum of the fragile peace they'd carved out for themselves, away from organisation work.

Only this time, the peace is real.

Despite his apprehensions about meeting Scotch, Shuuichi's glad he's here - travelling with him is one thing, but he didn't realize just how much he's missed downtime with his ex-partner. Scotch's sharp intellect and easy-going attitude make for pleasant company.

It's exactly what he needs to unwind.

Which is why he doesn't see how Scotch has him cornered until it's too late.

.

The neighbourhood of the Kudo manor is quiet, at night.

As they head out onto the balcony for a smoke in the moonlight, their conversation turns to hushed whispers. Mellowed by an evening of pleasant company and several drinks, the world sharpens into focus between them, illuminated by the glow of their cigarettes.

Standing would be too visible, so they sit on the stone floor, side by side, like so many times before.

"Hey, Akai?" His name, not his monicker. A chilling sense of dread creeps into his chest. Please, no.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

Shuuichi closes his eyes. He can take a good guess where this is going. Thus, he takes a deep drag from his cigarette, and braces himself.

"You know. For letting me meet Zero."

He'd been hoping against hope they could avoid the topic altogether. After all, they've made it several hours without addressing it. But unfortunately, it seems his luck has run out.

(Still, having seen Scotch in good spirits all evening makes it worthwhile, just a bit.)

Maybe they can just move along quickly.

"Think nothing of it."

"No. Akai, listen. I know you had to pull some strings to make it happen, and I want you to know I appreciate that. We appreciate that - even if Zero is pissed. First thing he did was slap me; told me I was late."

Scotch laughs, low and sweet in the night air.

They both know he let himself get slapped - Rei tends to telegraph too much, when he's angry, and surely it's even more obvious for someone so intimately familiar with him. The thought stings. And yet, through it, Shuuichi can't help the help the small smile creeping on his face. That sounds like Rei, all right. He would've liked to see it - someone else the target of his anger, for once.

Scotch seems happy to just bask in the memory, but Shuuichi's curiosity has been piqued.

"Did you manage to resolve your issues?" After all, that was the goal. If they didn't, none of this was worth it - several hoops he jumped through, bureaucratic and personal, for nothing.

"It's tentative, so far, but I have faith we'll get there. We've been through too much, together, at this point. This won't break us... I hope."

Shuuichi is reminded painfully of the bits and pieces he's heard of their childhood adventures. Fishing and fighting and being friends. It must be nice, to have found love so early in life. To get to keep it, too.

"I don't think so, it's clear how much he missed you. I'd be surprised if he ever let you go again." It leaves him a little cold, to no longer be the focal point of Furuya's burning determination. Chasing him was always just a means to an end for getting to Scotch. And now his wish has been granted. Shuuichi hopes it's worth it.

When he smiles, Shuuichi is sure this is Hiro, the person closest to Rei. It burns, but at the same time he finds himself glad that Scotch shines with such utter fondness when he talks of Zero. That's what Rei deserves, after all.

"I hope so. I don't intend to leave again, anyways. Every single day when I was hiding, I missed him."

It's a quiet, gentle admission Akai isn't sure how to handle. All these emotions are a bit too much - he's not used to being thanked, unless it's with useless medals, and he's not used to being confided in. He supposes it's nice that Scotch trusts him enough to lay himself bare like this, nowadays. Still, he can't help but wish for the old times, when they were much better at keeping their feelings out of his face. He's already happy for them; isn't that enough?

Scotch turns to look at him, blue eyes burning bright in the moonlight.

"And I missed you, too."

Cold wind tousles his hair. Shuuichi stares at Scotch.

If he didn't know what to say before, he certainly doesn't do so now. How can Hiro say that so easily? It's too personal. It's one thing to have his little sister say it, who only ever saw an idealized version of him to look up to. For Scotch to say this, despite knowing what he did, who he is - it makes Shuuichi nauseous.

Because he can tell Scotch is being painfully genuine.

'I missed you too', burns in his throat. But too many conflicting emotions keep it tightly sealed. His breathing becomes difficult, requires a conscious effort to take air in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.

And Scotch isn't even done yet.

"Akai. I have to get used to that name now, huh? Feel free to call me by my name, too, if you want."

With how his mind is spinning, it's difficult to figure out what he wants at all, besides for Scotch, no, Hiromitsu to stop. He's ripping apart the bubble of warm nostalgia that was enveloping them so nicely, leaving them exposed to the present. The night is cold and uncertain, without its protection.

"...you haven't been meeting my eyes all evening. Please, Akai - let me know what's wrong. We couldn't, back then, but I'd like to be your friend, now."

It's the kindest smile he's seen on Sc- Hiromitsu yet, and it's too much. Shuuichi has to avert his eyes, can't keep looking at his former partner, all earnest focus placed on him. A shiver runs downs his spine.

There's few things he wants more, in life.

"...we are", he manages to tear from his aching throat, choked up with emotion. This is a bad idea. He's not supposed to get attached. He's just making the same mistake, over and over again. He should've kept quiet.

(If he'd told Akemi how he truly felt, would it have mattered?)

"Then why do you seem miserable, whenever you look at me? Why do you try to avoid me? Don't think I didn't notice."

Of course he did, always too sharp. So helpful, on a mission, and occasionally in private too; he'd know they were getting sick before they really felt it, start treatment with soup and tea early. Taking care of them, even then.

"It's got nothing to do with you, it's-" 'me', he wants to say. Fear and bitter envy, the brunt of which Hiromitsu really doesn't deserve to face. So Shuuichi's been trying to avoid them, and, by extension, his former partner.

He manages to catch himself in time, before he gives voice to feelings that can't be unsaid.

"Yes?" Hiromitsu's voice is calm and patient and Shuuichi hates him for the attention he's paying to him.

He manages to correct his course in time, if barely.

"You and Rei deserve some time alone, now that you're finally back together." It's close enough, only a partial lie. They're so important to each other, and he truly wants them to make up. He'd only be in their way.

"Rei, hm?" Hiro smiles at him. Of course he picked up on Shuuichi's blunder.

He's had just about enough of being cornered. Gets up and is about to head inside and maybe hide in the attic for a while. The door can be barricaded from the inside. Hiromitsu rises after him, puts a hand around his wrist in a vice grip.

"Let. Go." It takes all his patience to not just break Scotch's arm and leave.

"I'm sorry for pushing you, Akai. Please, give me half a minute more."

Unfortunately, his best glare stopped working on Scotch several years back. Shuuichi looks at his wristwatch, starts counting down. As soon as Hiromitsu starts talking, he knows his time is better spent focusing on what he has to say, instead.

"Look at me, Akai, and listen up. You can't get between the two of us. I've offered you a place at my side years ago, and Zero... well, he's come around. The offer still stands. It wasn't conditional, but if it was, you would've earned your place easily, by now. I owe you my life, and so does Zero, several times over."

"We did what we had to, and you did the same for me." For the longest time it was that simple, their relationship purely transactional, because Bourbon could only ever deal in exchanges. A favour for a favour.

It's long since stopped working that way, and Shuuichi knows it.

"Oh, please. None us had to do anything more than cooperate on missions, and yet we all chose to do so anyways. You're one of us, Akai. Stop fighting it."

And he wants to, desperately so. The thought of spilling his rotten insides for them to see has him sick to his stomach, and yet, how much worse could it be than what they've already witnessed?

Hiromitsu squeezes his arm, a burning brand of human connection. It staves off the cold, just a little.

When he speaks again, it's soft, but firm.

"You should've joined us for dinner, yesterday. Both of us missed you."

Shuuichi doesn't know what to say to that, too busy fighting his internal battles, but surely something shows on his face, because Hiro laughs at him.

"As amusing as it is to see you flush, no, that wasn't an invitation to a threesome."

...he isn't quite sure whether he's supposed to be relieved, or crestfallen, at this.

"I didn't think-"

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't." Hiromitsu's smile is too sly and knowing. It's a testament to the fact Shuuichi's spent too much time with Furuya, because wiping it off his face in a fight sure sounds appealing, right about now.

He's always been better at expressing himself through deeds rather than words, anyways.

"Otherwise, I wouldn't need to set the record straight. Zero's furious, by the way. Count yourself lucky that I'm the one breaking the news to you. He doesn't appreciate being set up on a date with his best friend."

Hiromitsu pauses, presumably to let that sink in. Shuuichi stares him down. That is supposed to be new information, how?

"Let me be perfectly clear: I love Zero."

He says it easily, with a sweet smile. It stings fiercely in Shuuichi's chest. By now, he thinks he knows what Hiromitsu is playing at, but unfortunately that knowledge doesn't prevent it from being an effective tactic.

(If this is how Hiromitsu treats his friends, he doesn't want to be his enemy.)

"He's my best friend, I love him like a brother. But he's family. Nothing more, nothing less."

There's a small pang of guilt at the relief that floods his system, but he needs it said explicitly to really believe it.

"You aren't a couple, then?"

Hiromitsu raises an eyebrow, as if to ask 'and why would that matter to you?' But thankfully he's done teasing, or Shuuichi really would need to break something, or rather, someone.

"No. I can see how you got the idea, but there's never been anything between us. Zero says you have a brother? Imagine we presumed the same about you two, just because you're close."

The confirmation lets him breathe more freely, even if it will need time to settle. His mind is still spinning, too many thoughts fighting for control. From this mess, of all things, his long-forgotten manners emerge as the failsafe. "Sorry."

Hiromitsu waves it off with a grin.

"I don't mind too much, we got excellent dinner out of it. Thank you for that, by the way. But do make sure to apologize properly to Rei."

Hiro winks at him, then straightens, looks him in the eye.

Squeezes his arm a final time, before he lets go.

"I mean it, Akai - you're our friend. And I hope you rest a little easier, knowing the truth."

Shuuichi does.

.

He's five minutes late to the requested location downtown - through little fault of his own, this time.

Masumi's text arrived a mere twenty minutes ago, and the things PSB liaison Akai Shuuichi might get away with, such as speeding, don't apply to the civilian Okiya Subaru (though that would admittedly be a very nice perk of the job).

He can hazard a guess why Masumi didn't send the details earlier as he drives past the building in question to find a parking spot - she probably didn't want to give him time to reconsider and back out.

Because she's dragging him to a goddamn karaoke bar, and, standing in the huddle of girls waiting for him, is Miyano Shiho.

His instincts tell him to cancel, to take up position on the rooftop bar across the street - it would provide easier surveillance options.

(But he's tried to protect Akemi from afar, and failed her, miserably.)

Besides, he promised, and he really does try to be better, these days.

So he smiles, all awkward and apologetic Subaru, as he joins them. It's going to be a long night.

(He's soothed by the smell of Rei's hypoallergic fabric softener clinging to the sweater he picked. Can't help but feel that there would be a certain appeal to sharing them, if Rei were open to the idea.)

.

The evening goes better than he imagined, all things considered, even if there's crying involved - as is often the case when he meets Mouri Ran.

It's a pleasant distraction, if nothing else.

He keeps an eye on Masumi all night to see what could possibly be bothering her, but as far as he can tell she's genuinely happy to spend the night with her friends. In fact, considering she told him how it had been too long since they'd last seen each other, she pays surprisingly little attention to him.

He prefers it this way.

(Although he would've liked to ask for her advice on how to apologise properly. Alas, this is probably not the right time, or place.)

.

Mostly he stays at their table, watching the girls' drinks and the crowd, occasionally giving guys who seem to consider chatting the girls up cheerful glares. Masumi made her wishes very clear, after all.

It's a good thing he talked to Scotch Hiromitsu yesterday. Enthusiasm permeates the bar, but unfortunately confidence doesn't equate to talent. Several of the loud, out of tune performances would've been torture with a hangover.

He finds himself humming along to the classics regardless.

As it is, it's almost pleasant. Sure, Shiho keeps ignoring him when it's just the two of them left at the table, but that's better than open hostility. Probably.

(It feels a little worse.)

.

Two hours in Sonoko ushers Ran to stay with Subaru rather conspicuously.

Smalltalk is stilted between them, lacking in common ground, and it doesn't really help that their connection is through the Kudo family, the memories of which she's here to escape for the night. She's polite as ever, but without the other girls as buffer, the conversation quickly runs dry.

Thankfully, the girls' singing distracts them soon enough. A cutesy pop song about moving on, dedicated to Ran.

She seems about ready to cry halfway through, and by the time they're done she's sniffling and trying to discreetly wipe her tears. Shuuichi gives her a handkerchief and pats her back rather awkwardly in an effort to try and soothe her. He hopes the girls will be back soon to take care of this. He's woefully underqualified to handle this kind of situation.

When they finally do get back, he plans to excuse himself, but before he finds a good time he's swept up in a group hug instead.

Turns out he might have misread the situation - what with Ran being overjoyed at her friends' continued support, and needing to express that, somehow. How exactly that translates into him also being included in their huddle is beyond his comprehension, but he's not going to struggle and cause a scene.

(It's kind of nice to see her smile again - gloominess doesn't suit her.)

.

It might've been a bit too much excitement for Ran, because around midnight she's almost falling asleep at their table. At this point, the rest of the girls declare their mission a success, and the focus shifts to trying to figure out how to get back in the middle of the night.

Shuuichi volunteers to drive them home.

It's crammed in his little Subaru, but the girls manage, and once he's dropped off Sonoko, things quiet down considerably.

Masumi makes him swear not to tell their mother how long they were out.

He agrees, of course, knowing he got up to much worse as a teen - back when he was still susceptible to peer pressure and living abroad in a fraternity, alcohol made him do very stupid things indeed to prove his worth.

If this is how Masumi chooses to defy their mother, he'll take it - she could be up to so much worse.

She's arranged to stay with Ran; thus, he's released from his services for the night. He watches as they help each other up the stairs, leaning in close, whispering and laughing to each other.

He would make an assumption, now, but Hiromitsu's words are still clear in his mind.

So for now, he refrains, and is simply glad they're supporting each other.

.

In the end, predictably, Shiho is the only one left in the car.

"Didn't dare to join us wearing your own skin, cousin?"

He shrugs. "Masumi requested Subaru."

"Well. At least you didn't creep on us from several buildings away. Baby steps." 'But progress, nonetheless', her small smile says.

He doesn't know why he says it. Maybe because it's late. Because Scotch Hiromitsu has chipped away at his protective tissue. Because it's Shiho.

"Staying away didn't save her." He doesn't need to say who - the same wound is carved into Shiho's heart, after all. And judging by the songs she chose to sing today, it still bleeds just the same.

She sighs, long-winded and too world-weary for a girl her age.

"No. No, it didn't. All it did was rob us of the time we had with her. Utter idiocy, in retrospect."

Shuuichi hums in agreement. Lost opportunities they'll never get back, all thanks to lies and the wish to protect her.

"I tried to push her away, you know? I was too involved - maybe, if she didn't know what I was doing, she could retain her innocence. Maybe she could even leave, one day, I'd hoped. But she clung to me stubbornly."

Never backing down from what she wanted, from those she loved. That's the women he fell for.

Shuuichi finds himself smiling, somewhat pained.

"She loved you dearly, to the bitter end."

He hands her the flip phone that has been his constant companion for almost a year now. Past the lockscreen waits Akemi's last message to him. With its P.S., asking him to protect her dear little sister, if the worst should come to pass.

He never got to reply to her, to promise that he would, of course he would.

It's short, so Shiho doesn't take long to read it. She attempts to hand it back, eyes glistening, but not crying.

Always composed, in front of him.

"Keep it."

It hurts to let go of it, but Shiho deserves to have assurance of Akemi's love, even in death.

(Unlike himself, who only ever lied to her.)

She looks up at him, uncertain, but what she reads on his face seems enough to convince her. She snaps the phone shut, cradles it to her chest.

Smiles grimly at him. "Thank you."

The rest of the car ride passes in silence.

They split up in front of the Kudo mansion.

"...I was planning to visit her grave on the weekend. You should come."

.

Shuuichi knows where Akemi's ashes have been laid to rest - he was the one to pay for her funeral, after all.

(Once upon a time, he'd dreamt of a future with her, of being family. Cruel irony, how that turned out to be true.)

Since her parents were never officially buried, and he hadn't been able to reach Shiho, he'd made the selfish decision to have Akemi's ashes stored in the Sera family grave.

He hasn't had the time to visit, yet - first, things had been too dangerous, then too busy, and by now, he's really just been unable to face her, alone. He's glad he doesn't have to, now.

Shiho sets down an incense stick, and some cut flowers - white gladioli. Shuuichi squats down next to her, puts down his flowers - lilies, also white - into the vase and lights the incense.

"Hey, sis. Look who I managed to drag along."

"Hello, Akemi." Sorry it took so long.

They stand, side by side, in silent prayer.

He's had days to prepare himself, to think about what he wants to say to her. But as he stands before her grave, all that's left is sorrow, a hollow in his chest where she should be.

(Filled with regret, and someone else. Jodie's right. He's a terrible partner.)

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't tell you the truth.

I'm sorry I left you behind.

I'm sorry I couldn't protect you.

I miss you.

The gentle smile when she talked about her little sister. The sweet blush when he'd kissed her hand. The way she'd awkwardly apologize for flipping the pancake she was making for breakfast into the sink. The ikebana arrangements she'd spend hours and hours on, decorating her flat. Her kind hands, mending his body and soothing his soul. The way the sunlight would turn her hair into gold.

A thousand small joys she gave to him, and all he had for her in turn were lies.

He doesn't remember the last time he cried - maybe as a child, when he fell and scraped his knee. It feels so far away.

His body doesn't remember how to, either - otherwise he surely would be, now.

How cruel. Even in death, he can't show her his honest feelings.

Shuuichi shows her cold comfort, instead.

Takes out a plastic evidence bag he requisitioned from the PSB, and places it on the altar as an offering. In it, the shattered scope of a rifle, splattered with its owner's blood. Gin's. It was found by his side, together with his Beretta, the instrument of his voluntary destruction. As the PSB forces had closed in on him, he'd chosen to kill himself, rather than surrender.

When Shuuichi lies awake at night, it irks him that Gin had a choice, at the end, where he took it away from so many others. He didn't deserve that kindness. A part of him is furious that he wasn't there to see his enemy's dying breaths, preferably through the scope of his rifle.

But it was probably for the best - if he'd been there, he's not sure he could've reigned himself in. Might've murdered Gin with his own two hands, and become the kind of monster he swore to hunt. (And if he's completely honest, there's another possibility: caught in a struggle with his enemy, he might have lost sight of his surroundings and slipped up. Facing Gin, that would've been a death sentence.)

Instead, and he's got the boy to thank for that, he was tasked with keeping their allies - Rei - alive and breathing. He can't help but feel like that matters.

I'm sorry I couldn't avenge you; you deserved better.

But he won't be making anyone miserable, anymore.

It's over, and they're still standing, in defiance of the bloodlust of their enemies. He's managed to keep one promise to Akemi, at least.

I'll continue to watch over her, if she lets me.

Shiho claps beside him, done with her prayer.

Thank you for everything.

The incense stick's stump turns to ash and scatters in the wind.

I hope your spirit can find peace, Akemi.

.

When he lights himself a cigarette to calm his mind, Shiho holds out a hand, wordlessly, expectantly.

He regards her with mild curiosity, but offers the pack regardless.

"What. You think I haven't done worse?"

She snatches his lighter, and with a hiss of flame, lights up her own cigarette.

"Akemi used to tell me to stay away from drugs, but I deserve this for bringing you here."

She takes a deep drag, managing not to cough. It's clear, from her posture and practiced ease, that it's far from her first foray into smoking.

"I hated you, you know? For the longest time. For playing with her, breaking her heart, leaving her behind, all alone. Leaving her to die."

It burns his lungs, to have his own thoughts voiced out loud, by Shiho of all people. But he deserves every cruel word dropped from her lips - she speaks nothing but the truth, after all. He needs to bear her judgement.

Shiho smiles, grimly. Doesn't look at him, focused on the grave instead.

"But not Akemi. She saw through you, and loved you still. Forgave you, even, because that's the kind of person she was."

A cold spring breeze plays with her hair. The sweater and cap protect him from the worst of it, but it still bites at his face, makes his eyes sting.

"I don't think I can ever be as forgiving as she was. You were, and still often are, an unrepentant jerk."

She turns to look at him, eyes as hard as steel. So familiar his eyes burn. He can't look away.

"But her death is not your fault."

It's cloaked in insults and pain. But it's an absolution he could never have asked for, one no one else could have given him. His breathing stops, then comes a little easier.

"Neither is it Kudo's. Did he ever tell you? He was there, watched her die. For the longest time, I blamed him for not saving her. He's brilliant when he puts his mind to it. Did he care so little, as to not even try?"

She shakes her head.

"It is a cruel thing to begrudge him for having witnessed her death. He was just a kid - small, powerless, afraid. Up against enemies that tried to kill him, too, only failed through sheer luck. I had to first be put into the same shoes to understand that."

As if she's not just a kid now, too. Neither of them should have gone through what they did, and yet it happened, has left them weathered and worn, tired beyond their years. They're still young - he hopes they can recover from the worst.

"I'm trying to tell myself it's not my fault either. She died for me, for us, trying to get us out of there. But I didn't know. She kept it from me, in case something went wrong. And I lie awake, going over conversations, wondering if I missed any signs. If I could've warned her or stopped her. If she could still be here, that way."

He's familiar with the spirals and hypotheticals, repeating the scenario over and over, to look for a way out. It never changes the facts.

"That kind of thinking gets you nowhere."

She gives him a sharp glare, a wordless threat to 'shut the fuck up'. He takes a step back, raising a hand in surrender.

"I know it's useless. Because she is dead, and no amount of analysing can bring her back. At least the one person who truly is at fault will not be a problem any longer. That's a small comfort."

She glares at the scope with barely concealed hatred in her eyes.

"And that's all there is. Akemi was proud and strong-willed - she chose her path. Not reaching out to any of us for help was a choice she made. I can't take away her agency in this matter."

Shiho smiles, pained and beautiful in the setting sun.

"The worst thing is that if she hadn't done what she did, I might still be a prisoner of the organisation. I'd like to think she didn't want to die to achieve it, but she'd be so happy to see me living in the sunlight, once more."

"She would be overjoyed." It's an obvious and simple truth he can't help but confirm.

Oh. Shiho's crying, now, quiet tears trailing down her cheeks, reflecting the sunlight in streaks of gold. It shaves years of her worn face, makes her look as young as she truly is.

He gives her a handkerchief, is glad to see her accept it. She wipes her face, smudging some of the make-up - he'll need to let her know before they return to the public. She doesn't usually like it when people can see past her composure. Shuuichi's pretty sure he, too, shouldn't be here to witness this.

But she doesn't hide from him, today, so he'll take all she gives to him, and treasure it.

"I brought you here because I'm trying to be better. I got a second chance at life, and I want to take it, all of it, for myself and for Akemi. But I won't be able to, if I hold on to useless grudges."

She looks at the handkerchief in her hands.

"You're a jerk, but you're not horrible. And you're trying to be better, too."

She holds out her hand.

"I want to get to know you, Akai Shuuichi. Maybe we could start with meeting for coffee?"

He waits for her to take it back, to reconsider.

She just looks at him expectantly, raises an eyebrow too when he doesn't comply immediately.

Shuuichi is many things, but he tries not to be a coward.

So he fights the vertigo, takes a leap of faith.

"I'd like that."

And shakes her hand.

.

Sweater Weather AU masterpost

[starlightandmagic]

Where the Spirit Meets the Bones

Kaz's lips thin as he flexes his long, pale fingers, seemingly adjusting to the feeling of being gloveless. "You said you would have me without armor. I can't give you that. Not entirely, not yet. I tried…" he frowns, looking like he's struggling with himself. "It's gotten… well not a whole lot better. I still need the damn gloves most of the time."

Inej feels a pinch somewhere inside her chest. Maybe it's her heart squeezing at the sight of him, angry and bitter like he's always been and yet somehow looking uncharacteristically vulnerable.

So he’s not fit for a conventional relationship, she doesn’t want that anyway. For better or worse and despite her better judgment, no matter how much she tried to fight it in the past, she's only ever wanted him. If the heart is an arrow then, for whatever reason that only her Saints could explain, her target is always Kaz. No matter how far she goes, her compass keeps pointing straight back to him.

Healing has never been an easy journey. But Inej’s aim is always true, and she’s willing to fight for what she wants. ‘Knives drawn, pistols blazing’ he’d said, and she will hold him to his word, because he’s right, they never stop fighting.

Read on Ao3

[cherryisgone]

darling, all the while

A fat raindrop splashes on Mike’s cheek, slips down his face and down his chin; falls on his neck to disappear inside his damp shirt. Leaves behind the scorching trail of Will’s gaze on his skin. Mike tightens his grip on the soda cans when Will’s adam’s apple bobs up and down, considers closing his eyes and tipping his head back, let the tepid rain speck his face, soak him to the bone. A kiss in the rain would be romantic, right? Date appropriate. “You should get back in the car.” or; Michael Wheeler and the mortifying ordeal of being in a car with a beautiful boy.

hi ❤️ i wrote another fic, which you could consider my response to the fairly recent "stop sanitising queer couple kissing" discourse. this is mostly agonizing pining and unresolved tension thick as a wool blanket but at least they kiss (... for about 3k out of 11k, btw) ft. my personal peak of cringefail loser Mike as I won't be able to top That Scene™ ever again 🙏🏻

[prince-liest]

MORE nieyao omegaverse shenanigans!!!

please imagine a nieyao (or 3zun) ABO AU where jin guangyao is an omega and is constantly taking scent-blockers. not because he's hiding the fact that he's an omega - that pigeon flew the coop a long time ago and it certainly isn't helping his standing in jinlintai, unfortunately - but because he's violently allergic to the very concept of broadcasting his feelings to everyone in jinlintai, all of the time, via scent.

he's not even the only one! it's not uncommon for people to be on scent-blockers in jinlintai for this exact reason. it's not amazing for politicking to be physically incapable of maintaining a pheromonal poker face when someone says something that you just vehemently disagree with! besides, it's rude to make people deal with your emotions all the time like that. not to mention the reputation jin-zongzhu has around omegas...

but it's very much a jin cultural thing that jin guangyao adopted after the sunshot campaign. other sects have their own ways about it, but the nie in particular maintain a sort of pride about their dynamics just as they do about their history as butchers, and to hide to that extent in the unclean realm is frequently assumed to be inherently dishonest. why would you use scent-blockers if you didn't have bad intentions?

(of course, many people use them anyway - milder ones, ones that change a scent rather than eliminating it entirely as jin politesse dictates, an extra layer of secrecy not just about the scent itself but the fact that what is being communicated is manufactured - but nie mingjue has never had to consider something like that.)

and thus this becomes one of the reasons that nie mingjue cannot reconcile jin guangyao with his perception of his former deputy, meng yao. the lack of scent - it makes jin guangyao seem cold, distant, fake - seemingly an entirely different person.

except.

at some point.

perhaps jin guangyao is off his blockers, or more likely, one day nie mingjue's alpha hindbrain has had enough of these oppositional shenanigans and simply locks onto jin guangyao, labeling him irrevocably as 'MATE!' in nie mingjue's brain and making him so much more sensitive to jin guangyao - likely without jin guangyao even realizing.

so now nie mingjue can suddenly tell, at least in the cases of stronger emotions, exactly what jin guangyao's body is trying to broadcast.

when he realizes what happened, he expects to detect... he's not even sure. smugness. irritation? maybe even hate.

what he gets is fear, and fear, and more fear. jin guangyao is just so scared, all of the time, that it drives almost everything else into non-existence as far as his pheromones are concerned. he simply never feels safe. it's so bad that it's giving nie mingjue a sympathy headache any time he's around his youngest sworn brother.

and perhaps at some point in the past, nie mingjue had even gotten into it with jin guangyao about the scent blockers - nie mingjue perceiving dishonesty vs jin guangyao feeling frustrated that once again da-ge is looking down on him for something that jin guangyao feels is imperative for his own safety - and jin guangyao had said that, well, nie mingjue accuses him of manipulation and lying so often anyway, how is he supposed to trust that if nie mingjue could smell anything that he wouldn't just assume it's part of jin guangyao's supposed manipulations anyway?

(it doesn't help jin guangyao's frustration that nie mingjue insists that hiding one's scent is dishonesty when, actually, jin guangyao could do with the oppressive 'angry alpha' that often layers all over the place on top of nie mingjue's already large physique and looming presence being toned down a little bit, thanks)

and nie mingjue was like, that's ridiculous, that's not something you can manually control (jin guangyao just smiled at him, the same way he smiles at nie huaisang when he thinks the young master is being naive) - except now he's realizing that maybe jin guangyao had at least a little bit of a point, in the sense that it turns out that it's actually really difficult to be righteously angry at someone who so vividly feels unsafe and afraid whenever you express that, in a way that jin guangyao's crocodile tears never got to him. he feels a sudden kindred spirit with lan xichen.

tl;dr: nobody gets kicked down any stairs, and nie mingjue is forcibly familiarized with what, exactly, jin guangyao's emotional perspectiive is at least, as well as finding himself curbing his own temper because yelling at someone who is smiling at you while circulating their spiritual energy to stop themselves from hyperventilating about it just. feels really bad. nie mingjue is used to feeling like he is in the right and he doesn't know what to do with this. he is right! but... surely being shown the righteous path shouldn't be making jin guangyao feel like this.

(and maybe nie mingjue picks up on the sudden spike of increased stress - and, wow, he didn't know that jin guangyao could be more stressed, isn't there a maximum? - when jin guangshan starts pressing his bastard son to 'take care' of the nie mingjue problem.)

[perexcri]

more corn maze shenanigans for @bylerween2023 this wip wednesday~

[selkiefinalist]

every new shade of green

pairing: nathan mackinnon/erik johnson | rating: e | words: 57k | warnings: none | hours of sleep i sacrificed to write this: priceless

EJ woke Nate up before dawn had even cracked the sky.

[silverlistenstothings]

Hermie stays awake until Taylor’s breathing goes slow and even with sleep. Hermie’s arm is already numb and will definitely give them trouble in the morning, and the couch isn’t quite as comfortable as they hoped, and their neck is at an awkward angle against the arm rest, but Taylor is sleeping soundly against them and they don’t mind suffering through a bad night's sleep for that.

A drawing of the ending of the first chapter of Surface Tension, from me and @cookies-over-yonder ‘s series The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Roommates!

[dickytwister]

fast car

rating: general audiences || pairing: carlton lassiter/shawn spencer || word count: 1827 || read here

summary:

"You know how I feel about public displays of affection at work.”

Shawn raises a finger to his head and Lassiter reminds himself that vehicular manslaughter is punishable by the law.

“I’m not sensing anyone nearby. It’s completely safe to passionately make out without being seen. And we’re not at work, we're in the parking lot.”

or: shawn wants a kissie NOW

[formosusiniquis]

Water is wet, the sky is blue, and Eddie Munson is a music snob.

Sure, he listens to more music than Steve even knew existed. Sure, he can curate a playlist that gets you from Korn to Disney without it feeling jarring. Sure, he can give you a full college quality lecture on the history of modern rock and metal and how it can all be traced back to the blues.

But he’s also the same guy who brutally eviscerates anything that even approaches popularity. He’s watched Eddie drop bands the second their music starts making radio play because it’s a short trip to an album that’s been engineered in a lab for maximum radio play.

An educated music snob is still a snob is the point.

But the rest of their friend group is also a collection of snobs and bitches, so when Eddie suggested they do a Spotify Wrapped viewing party it quickly became an annual tradition. They all make sure they have the night off when the Wrapped drops, meeting up at Steve’s house where they spend the night stuffing their faces and roasting each other for the music that made up their soundtrack to the year.

Eddie the Snobbish is of course the most vocal critic.

“Girl in Red, Buckley, really? There is such a thing as leaning too far into the stereotype.”

“Get fucked, Munson, they’re my number five.”

“And your number two is Hayley Kiyoko, but she’s actually good so I kept her out of it. Honestly, it’d be faster to just shout from the rooftops that you’re queer.”

“Yeah, yeah, wait ‘til we get to you, Eddie.”

“I drew 7 so you’ll have to wait a little bit longer.

It goes like that all night. Eddie makes at least one comment about each person’s wrapped as the night goes on. But then everyone takes at least one crack at the others. From listen time to top genres nothing is safe and nothing is sacred. Sometimes the only comment needed is the sounds of nine other people shrieking in laughter because Accidentally in Love from the Shrek 2 soundtrack cracked your top 5.

“Seriously, Sinclair, the rest of it is so good!”

“I refuse to be critiqued by the same man I caught singing Nickelback last week.”

“Damn, seeing the family resemblance between you and Lady Applejack now.”

Sometimes his mockery is flavored like concern.

“William, the top .05% of Mitski listeners? Do you need help? Should we call your mom? This feels like a cry for help.”

“She’s classically trained, musically a genius. Sorry, we can’t all spend our time listening to Ozzy struggle through a basic melody.”

And Eddie isn’t afraid to get other people in on his snobbery.

“Ten bucks, Stevie, your little Dusty has Weird Al in his top 5.”

“I don’t make bets, I know I’m going to lose. That’d be like saying ‘I bet he’s going to have Neverending Story in his top 5’, it’s practically guaranteed.”

Robin’s not as afraid to get involved, “Five bucks, Neverending Story is his number 1.”

“Oh you’re on, Bucks, no way it’s not a parody.”

They’re both wrong, deciding that neither is out the money, and Steve wishing he had gone ahead and bet when it turns out to be a movie instrumental. “He can’t listen to music with words when he’s building shit, and he’s always tinkering with something in his room.”

“It was from the Neverending Story soundtrack, I still think that means I win.”

“Absolutely not.”

It’s always a big moment when it’s finally Eddie’s turn, he’s the whole reason they had to start drawing their places at random. He spends so much time talking shit about everyone else’s music taste that by the time his turn rolls around half the group is ravenous, a pack of feral dogs snarling at a feast before them,  ready to give him a taste of his own medicine.

The earliest bits are the most boring. The strange emotion tags are always a little jarring, though no one is surprised when spooky makes its way onto Eddie’s. It’s a little concerning just how much time Eddie is clocking on Spotify, “Over 40,000 minutes, Eddie, that’s almost an entire month.”

“How come your math is never that quick when you’re adding up your damage, Henderson?”

And then Spotify helpfully announces that Eddie Munson's most played song of the year is Head Over Heels by Tears for fucking Fears, clocking in at 267 plays. 

It could go without saying that all hell then breaks loose, but then not saying it makes it sound like a regular amount of hell is breaking loose. And not the kind of hell that can only come from a room full of people who show their affection through ruthless teasing and mockery finding a massive hole in the armor of someone who had spent most of their friendship unassailable.

It’s mean. It’s targeted. It’s the standard brand of teasing that this group is built on.

It would be a lot funnier if Eddie, someone who is normally pretty good about taking the same kind of shit that he deals out, didn’t look like he wanted the floor to swallow him up.

The jokes all reach a logical end. The kids have a killer’s instinct when it comes to weakness, but they’re soft where it counts, and there’s not a joke in the world that’s still funny when it’s being laughed at instead of with.

And Steve, normally the first to tease Eddie about his dad rock playlist can’t think of a single thing to say that isn’t going to come out, “Why was your day with the most listens right after the weekend trip we took for my birthday?”

That wasn’t going to be, “Do you want this the way that I do?”

The rest of the reveal is standard, nearly 19 hours of playtime does put Tears for Fears in the 5th spot of Eddie’s Top Artists but no one comments on it. Steve doesn’t even make fun of Eddie for being the only person under 40 to still listen to Metallica.

Because he’s finally found something to say that isn’t going to come out, “Do you know someone else who only listens to new wave or do listen to that song and think about me?”

“I’m going next.” Eddie finally, finally, makes eye contact with him instead of staring out into the middle distance. Maybe his announcement does sound more like, ‘let me say it back.’

“Steve, you drew last. Nancy’s next.”

Nancy, who knows him uniquely. Knows him in a way that no one, except maybe Eddie one day, ever will. Nancy cuts through the bullshit decisively. “Steve can go next.”

“No appreciation for the rules, why do we even have them?”

Steve does not give a single shit about his wrapped outside of it being a source of amusement for his friends. His taste in music is as close to nonexistent as it gets and, really, if he’s going to listen to something he’s probably going to pick a book over music if he’s by himself.

Except this year.

The teasing is a little tamer now. Normally, Steve is happy to take the brunt of it. 

From Eddie picking at his lack of taste. “Pick a genre, Steve, god.” 

To the kids joining in because they want to impress Eddie, “Can you even listen to the playlist without getting whiplash? I Will Survive to Part of Your World, jeez.” Nevermind that they’re both basically power ballads, and Wheeler can mock but I Will Survive was the soundtrack to his break up with Nance and sometimes he wants to be both nostalgic and angry-sad. 

This year is quiet, like they’re worried they went too far with Eddie and now they’re afraid to take shots at their other favorite babysitter.

It’s fine. Steve has pretty much unfailingly had one song playing at any point anymore. Maybe it took him a little longer than April, but he knows without a doubt what his top song of the year is going to be.

Eddie takes the armchair for Wrapped nights, he’s the meanest normally and says he wants to be out of the direct line of fire of any noogies or Robin’s lethal elbows. It means Steve has to reach to kick the side of the chair to make sure Eddie is watching.

Rainbow in the Dark was Steve’s number one song this year with 171 plays.

And maybe it would be appropriate to say that all hell breaks loose once again. Steve wouldn’t really know, too busy staring at Eddie. He’s in the eye of the storm now, while chaos breaks out around him Steve can only wait to see how Eddie reacts.

Wonders if that pink blush is because Eddie realizes that the day he repeated it the most was right after he heard Eddie play it for the first time. Fell asleep to it playing on repeat, thinking about Eddie’s fingers and Eddie’s smile, drowning out the sounds of fireworks that still trigger panic.

"It makes me think of you," Eddie, brave and shy and only hiding part of his face behind his hair, answers the only question Steve needed answered.

"Yeah," he agrees, hoping it sounds less like a breathless demand for reassurance and more like, 'listening to this song all year was the closest I could get to imagining what it could be like having you.'

"Yeah." And Steve hears, 'I  still expect to be wined and dined, Harrington.' Maybe because it's the kind of silly request Eddie would make, or maybe he just likes giving the people he cares about everything he can.

"But seriously, Stevie, why the fuck is Careless Whisper in your top 5? It should be a crime for Dio and George Michael to be that close together."

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

In which the problem of James Tartt Sr. is discussed and re-discussed, Jamie and Rebecca have a heart-to-heart, Ted takes his turn in the angst cauldron, and Roy stress-cleans his fridge.

[godsfavoritescientist]

*gives bill cipher anxiety* *gives bill cipher anxiety* *gives bill ciphe-

[banyanas]

sudden horrible self doubt re: pilot au series

[knightkneeler]

Epiphyte Edelgard/Lysithea | Explicit | 14k words Post-Crimson Flower, gothic horror, getting together, medical experimentation My Femslash Exchange gift for Minorobsessions.

Edelgard’s teeth grazed her bottom lip, for a second. A bad habit, and one she rarely lapsed into these days. “I worry about you.” “Well, don’t. You know what I’m capable of.” Lysithea had not touched her second mille-feuille. “We eradicated them, Edelgard. They’re not going to come for me in the night. I can learn all their secrets.” “That is not what I’m worried about.” Lysithea crossed her arms and glared across the table. “Don’t you want answers? Don’t you want to know exactly what they did to us?” Edelgard knew too well what they had done. She remembered only fragments, and even those were too much. She remembered Lycaon screaming, screaming down the hall, first with words; his vocabulary had always been impressive for his age; the tenor of his voice becoming less and less human, over time, until it might not have been him at all, but an animal of some sort. She remembered the rats, the relentless drip of water in the corner of her cell. They had never put her in chains. They never needed to.

(link)

[pillowenvelopchair]

Hey guys!! this is just my insane ramble on Still Waters Run Deep that's made by the lovely @un-local. I've had so so sooooo many thoughts about this fic and I decided to try and put it all coherently in a post :)

Probably not a lot of new insights, just many, many rambles

Magdalene analysis and her view on Rogier + some other stuff

Magdalene, at the start of the story, is aimless and refuses to follow any line of Grace, putting off whatever it leads to and going in the opposite direction. Yet Grace is fickle, and it all eventually converges, so she gives in. (aaaand a life-changing partnership ensues)

She wants out of the competition of becoming Elden Lord, and she wants nothing to do with it. Someone else to take lordship is what she wants. Magdalene, in her eyes, is not worthy to take the throne. But Rogier on the other hand…

Rogier is, quite literally, built different. He thinks differently compared to Magdalene (a STR vs INT user difference lol). He’s able to pick out all the details that she would miss. Be able to extrapolate and examine it all and be able to learn from it. Magdalene can't do that.

It's basically:

Rogier: says some fun facts about the most random thing in the room, saying all the history behind it, and what the tiny details could mean Magdalene: yeah, that's a rock.

So instead, she becomes a tool for Rogier to be able to use, because that's the least she can do for him.

“She can already feel the faint grin forming on her lips at the thought. She never wanted to be Elden Lord. She’d finally picked up and followed grace to... to get away, with no idea what it called her to do. When Melina told her where it led her, she felt only dread. But Rogier... To save Those Who Live in Death... Two birds, one stone. She meets his eyes, and doesn’t look away. In them, she doesn’t see pride, or avarice. She doesn't see a man who wants to rule the world. Not at all. The path forward is clear now.” -Chapter 22

For once, she really sees a light from the dark future she sees. She's hopeful that she won't have to take the throne, that Rogier can burden it instead of her. He's worthy in her eyes and because of that, she devotes herself to him with all she can do. (Ah but… I believe Rogier wants her to be Elden Lord? Not sure but her not wanting to be Elden Lord doesn’t quite fit with what he has planned)

Magdalene really holds onto Rogier, and his guidance (a comfort wizard, if you will). And so the idea that he won’t make it… that she’ll be left alone with Grace again, forced to join back into the competition for lordship... It's sickening to her. So she really clings to him, desperate to not be left alone with a destiny that she despises.

Magdalene is always pulled into different directions. Grace pulls her to one but she pulls herself to the opposite one. Fia and D are both on extreme sides of the spectrum on Rogier's survival, and Magdalene is caught right in the middle of it.

But for her, Rogier will survive, he has to survive otherwise... that light, that small hope she has will all fade into obscurity.

Ghosts from the past (Lorens and Ida)

I absolutely love how something, or rather, someone haunts both of them.

Lorens had been the catalyst of all of what Rogier does now. Why he’s so desperate to save those who live in death. He's literally devoted his body and mind to Lorens just to see him alive (maybe Rogier's devoting all of himself to finding a solution to death because he wants it to come back to the old times when it was just him and Lorens in the Rise, or maybe not!! I'm just rambling lol).

Every thought of Lorens is painted with a sort of bittersweetness to it. From Rogier's perspective, at the very least (I'm super curious as to how Lorens would view Rogier but we'll probably never get it because... you know...). He's almost obsessed with him, and it's all pretty unhealthy lol.

Magdalene, who’s haunted by Ida who's probably a sort of lover that hadn't been fully brought to fruition. Different opinions on what they have had made Magdalene leave with (from what I have seen at least, we have scrapes of her, people! I can't wait to see more of Ida though)

Now with Ida... Magdalene absolutely shakes herself out of every thought she has about Ida. Spurning every single thought or imagination she has of that woman.

"Nausea comes in waves. Fever. She can feel delirium taking her—she’s convinced she’s submerged in the very waters of creation, for a while. She vividly feels herself sinking deeper and deeper into a current; cold and dark and inescapable. As it pulls her down, she’s overcome with the instinct to breathe it in— Against her temple she feels a hand, with gentle fingers dragging softly through her hair. Suddenly, every layer of the dream collapses in on itself, and she jolts awake with a gasp.  Here, in Liurnia, she hauls herself up, rubbing at her face. Even the memory is a shock of cold water to her. She’s a woman haunted." -Chapter 23

(I just really love this part- I can't help it)

I think it's also really interesting how Magdalene leaves Ida due to their differences in what they have (?) while Rogier just absolutely hangs onto Lorens no matter what, despite him being... er... him. Not so sure about his personality with the small flashbacks we get of him but he’s probably not good for Rogier.

In short, Rogier venerates Lorens, while Magdalene absolutely rejects Ida. (Opposites!)

Rogier’s overthinking

Also found it interesting that when Rogier thinks he really thinks. He's a professional overthinker, even in the past

"He thinks of the labyrinthian etiquette, the way he’d triple-check every sentence for a double meaning. The secrets, the ruthless political schemes. It all felt like a spider’s web to him. He’d learned the game, and he played it well, but it had been nothing but paranoia and misery for him. Just like it was for everyone else." -Chapter 17

It's what's kept him alive (Ch. 17), and what's been able to pave the way for his findings Yet, it’s also his curse. He tries to pick out every detail that he can and think of every possible reason or motivation. Every single outcome he just needs to know so that he won't get caught by surprise again. He needs to be in control of the situation, he needs to be the master of the chessboard.

Oh and once this guy spirals, he really spirals. He starts thinking and looking at details, rewinding every single thing, every interaction, and trying to label a reason for every little thing. Yet... something emotional seems to break the surface of the water.

I personally think that he was raised to overthink. He was a noble after all, and he dealt with politics. He truly needed to check, double check, triple check, every single sentence and word in case it would have a double meaning. "He’d learned the game, and he played it well" (Ch. 17) . Getting worse after Lorens' death, being fooled by "Only a cut." (Ch. 25) and seeing the aftermath of it.

He can't not do it because if he doesn't, and he gets surprised it would break him (or at the very least, freak him out).

ALSO!! Rogier hating on "saccharine conversations" (Ch. 17) good lord. This guy cannot be real with anyone. Rogier refuses to show vulnerability because:

1. He was raised like that (the whole attachment theory thing) 2. He will absolutely break if he does

Do you guys remember when Fia tells Magdalene that "dear Rogier began to weep as he spoke" (Ch.14)? Fia saw through Rogier's walls through the cracks and he just absolutely breaks down. (Get yourself a man who, after "embracing" tells you all about this thing he's obsessed about and then cries because of it)

It's a mortifying ordeal, that someone's able to see through the walls you've meticulously put up. It hits something deep within that he’s tried to bury.

Despite the walls he puts up people other than Fia see through them. Magdalene (Ch.7) was able to see through the small cracks that have broken, and Roderika... hoo she really hit a nerve didn’t she? (But it also hit one of her nerves too, Rogier vs Roderika am I right?)

Chapter 17 analysis

Also, while we’re on the topic of Roderika, let's talk about chapter 17! Seems I have a lot to talk about.

I absolutely love this chapter so much, it gives us so much insight into Rogier's backstory and the way he thinks. His noble background really shines through here, with how he acts with Roderika who is a fellow ex-noble too.

"His grin is wide and carefree, but it rather feels like he's baring his teeth.  There’s no room for your pity here." -Chapter 17

This guy cannot accept any sign of sympathy/compassion with anyone. It's all pity to him, and he absolutely hates pity. Once Roderika starts to console him too it sickens him and it makes him bare his teeth like an animal, his baser instinct showing just a little bit.

He’s probably bore his teeth to other nobles in the court, or whatever meetings they have with one another. Small threats that get the message across by a vicious smile, is something he is all too familiar with.

I also think that it's a little bit funny how he gives advice to Roderika but then is also a little bit of a hypocrite about it

“It’s hard, to leave it behind. But the old world will keep its claws in you, if you let it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier while it's not his past life that he's stuck but rather, he is stuck on Lorens. Even though Rogier is no longer Lorens' student, even though Lorens is dead, he still has his claws on Rogier. It's his entire motivation, why he's in a "pathetic" state now. He isn't letting those claws go, he lets them dig deeper within him, and they dig in deep.

“You already have it within you," he says. "They were only trying to bury it.” -Chapter 17

Rogier immediately buries his own emotions in this interaction when Roderika tries to console him lol. Just based off of him being an ex-noble and his whole family thing, it's well established that he is very much used to burying it all down his gullet. I mean, is it really Rogier without emotional suppression?

Also Rogier tends to close off all the matters that relate to what he feels in his dialogue both in game and in SWRD. This guy cannot let out just a slight moment of vulnerability

A Color Theory Thing on my read on Rogier's garb:

Rogier, with his background being grounded in nobility has suppressed his baser desires in exchange for meaningless political schemes that have only brought him misery. Yet after coming to these lands, he finds himself with Lorens.

He wears a Raya Lucarian Robe and it has red on it. It's a sign of baser instincts being shown for once. He has grown an infatuation with Lorens despite being his student.

Yet, Rogier is still mostly blue, and he still suppresses that baser desire that he’s developed, that infatuation for Lorens. He never once builds up the courage to be able to tell Lorens what he feels. He would always bury those feelings down, and as a result he can't let go of it. It's far too deep to be buried back up.

But once Lorens has died, Rogier changes too.

He exchanges those garbs for yellow and turquoise (I think?). He's a mix of colors and beliefs.

He still has the blue in the turquoise, which symbolizes calm, intelligence, and emotional control (you can’t spell Rogier without emotional control) But turquoise isn't just blue, it also has green.

Green represents growth, life, and new beginnings. This is a new beginning for Rogier, who's set out for a new goal, to be able to save those who live in death (and perhaps give them life? Not so sure on that but in SWRD that seems to be the case with Lorens).

It's balanced by yellow. Creativity and originality, he's almost the only person we meet who wants to save TWLID. Not only that but yellow also symbolizes illness, which could be a foreshadowing of what happens to him later in his life.

It's not just sickness though, yellow also symbolizes deception. Rogier lies, but I necessarily think he's someone who is always deceptive. He's more like the type of guy who would lie so that an encounter would go well or not hurt someone else's feelings. I think he's like that from that whole ex-nobility thing he's got going on. Political schemes and lying through a smile is something that he's familiar with. (It also doesn't help that he keeps being emotionally suppressed too lol)

Cowardice is another. Rogier is scared to tell anyone about his emotions, to take that risk of being honest with someone. His background in nobility and his family definitely doesn't help either.

Rogier had been too scared to be true to Lorens and tell him his feelings, and because of that, he would never be able to. I feel like he's avoided it even more afterward. He refuses to take that jump of being honest with someone, whether it's about his emotions or his ideals, he doesn't let them go.

But when he does? With D, it completely breaks off everything they've had. Everything that they could have been.

"Beguiled fool. A rotten, sick bastard. Fouled by them. A wicked, two-faced user. Heartless. Loathsome parasite. How could he? Were they not supposed to set this crooked world straight? Profane. A perversion of honor. A madman." -Chapter 5

“Get out of my sight.” “I’m sorry.” He’d said, and he was. But Darian’s lips curled back, and he jerked his head away and locked his eyes on the horizon. His jaw twitched, in the moment he took to reply.  “Don’t talk to me.” There was nothing he could do to fix this. To undo his mistakes, to spare Darian his intentions." -Chapter 5

It's all gone because he had been honest about his goals (presumably). This experience probably strengthened that emotional suppression so as to not be hurt/caught by surprise.

So when Magdalene, someone who wholeheartedly accepts his ideals and sees his side for once, he's cautious. He can't believe that someone can genuinely agree with him because all the times that he has been honest, he's been punished for it. (though, he reminds himself that she's not like that)

In short, this guy's a mixed bag. A mixed bag with problems

(basing this off of the Elden Ring color theory video, it was an absolute joy to watch)

[EDIT]: idk what to call this section but he seems to seek out some form of approval. Lets see how that ties in with his grief!

"He still doesn’t understand why. What did he do, specifically? Or was he just past his usefulness? Deemed unfit to rule? He never truly wanted to rule as Lord, but to be cast aside so indifferently—it had shaken him.  Every now and then he fumbles with this, again and again, but he knows. He does. He knows that grace has forsaken him for good reason. He’s a heretic. An apostate. He who does not obediently bow before a faltering, decrepit Order, so ill-equipped to handle the world as it is. " -Chapter 5

"All these years. Couldn’t change a thing. Rather pathetic, I’d say—what a fool, thinking that this crooked world could be made right by mortal hands. Sure, deathblight. Truly, a fitting end for a worthless, rotten bastard." -Chapter 12

Now, speaking from some personal experience, being raised in a family that's of nobility and expects so much out of you from a young age definitely breeds some kind of self-worth issues that really stick with you. Especially if you haven't had anyone to truly support you.

Because of that, I believe that Rogier, in a way, is trying to prove his worth. But not to the Order, I think that he's in some way trying to please Lorens. Even in death.

He puts everything into his studies of Death, searching and scouring for scraps of information just to give him a single lead on anything, and for what?

"Its fulfillment will be a selfish act of altruism. These crooked lands will set right, by his hands, for a reward of nothing at all. But make no mistake: he needs another day. And another after that, and another after that. He needs his questions answered with questions, he needs his notes corrected in an unreadable hand, he needs to hear one more “Well—” followed by the most opaque, convoluted tangle of sentences ever constructed. There’s no reward he seeks, but the warm smile of cold gray eyes and a scoff about just what he’s wearing nowadays. " -Chapter 19

Rogier devotes himself to saving TWLID (saving Lorens, in reality), but it's not because it's all for selfless reasons, he seems to want things to go back to the way things used to be. Back at the Rise, with just him and Lorens once more.

I don't think Rogier ever accepted Lorens' death. He's determined to bring back Lorens, desperately trying to find a solution to bring him back no matter what.

And it’s quite hypocritical isnt it? That Rogier wants to change the Order to be able to sort of… revive Lorens from Death. To go back to the old times that they both had had.

This guy refuses to grieve and is searching (desperately) for a solution for a dead man who's probably not even good for him. Get this man some therapy

This entire post's summary is just me going:

Anyway, that's all for my crazy rambles! I can't wait to see how SWRD will progress, and how everyone will intermingle and grow with one another (Rogier and Mags)!!!! :0)

Have some doodles + a WIP that I'll probably never finish as a treat for reading this! (Mag's torso was wayyy too long on the second one oops)

(bonus boggart because I love him)

[purpurussy]

that ask game prompted me to re-open a fic wip i haven't looked at since May, and now I'm feeling so fucking crazy about it that I might just start yapping about it unprompted if nobody asks me about it 😭