#all jokes aside this is what self care should be about. scrap the whole ‘you HAVE to do face masks for cleansing/moisturising/anti-aging’ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forvalor-blog · 5 years ago

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❛❛ So, yeah… I failed the course. ❜❜

The look his parents share is one of bewildered shock. It only drives home the fact that he failed them, as unintentional as it may be. Unable to meet their gaze, the young man drops his eyes to the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow him whole.

He hasn’t really stopped crying since his meltdown on stage during his final piece. There have been moments where the tears have stopped ( namely when he’s sleeping, which he does a lot of nowadays ), but the vacancy in his chest has never since been filled. In comparison to the crippling loneliness he’s now plagued with, his failing grade does little to upset him. He doesn’t care that much that he couldn’t graduate; he cares that he couldn’t take his graduation piece to his best friend’s doorstep.

His mother’s hands on his face bring him out of his thoughts, warm and gentle, and he feels his throat threatening to close. Had he not felt so devoid of emotion, so deliriously drained of tears, he may very well have started crying again. Instead, he stares at her blankly, tiredly, soul aching so profoundly that he feels fit to die in her arms.

❛❛ You didn’t fail, honey, ❜❜ she chimes softly, thumbs swiping gently over the heavy bags beneath his eyes-- as if she’s trying to lessen the cumbersome luggage with her tender touch. Murr feels his mouth open but no sound comes out. He’s left frustratingly quiet, like a pipe that desperately needs unclogging. It’s only when she pulls him into a hug that he feels something heavy settle atop his lungs, as if a thick layer of tarmac has suddenly blocked the road to his heart. Despite it all, he feels his eyes growing warm all over again. How many times am I going to burden the people around me with this frivolous misery? It isn’t as if it matters. ❛❛ You just didn’t do it this time. And that’s okay. ❜❜

❛❛ I’m sorry, mama… ❜❜

When his father embraces the pair of them, big arms wrapped around them like an oversized scarf, Murr is unable to keep himself together any longer. Again, he breaks.

* * *

He’s been sleeping a lot lately, the months rolling by in flippant little flashes of lucidity before he promptly drops off again. It seems to be about the only thing he can do without screwing anything up, so he takes refuge in the pointless activity. At the very least, while he’s dead to the world, he isn’t bothering anybody; isn’t wasting people’s time with his vapid uselessness; isn’t embarrassing himself in front of people who put their faith in him. Dear Raku, that scene haunts his dreams sometimes. He kills it with cough medicine. In large doses, the syrupy concoction is enough to lull him into undisturbed sleep for long blissful hours at a time, a blurry feeling filling his body as he dozes off. He’s unsure if his mother knows about it for he always makes sure to hide the bottles. If she has noticed, she certainly hasn’t said a word about it. He doesn’t even have a reason for why he chose cough medicine over other medicines than the fact that it tastes better than most What had started as an occasional dose-up in order to cope with the scratchy feeling in his throat ( most likely a byproduct of so much crying ) has turned into somewhat of a dependence.

❛❛ Li’l Murph…? ❜❜

Dead Autumn eyes slowly open to gaze upon the concerned face of his mother. Only she calls him that. His father is ‘’Big Murph’’. Despite the fact that he’s a little bit woozy, he feels his heart twist in his chest at the sight of her. Even just by laying in bed, he’s somehow proving himself to be a total embarrassment. He’s filled with so much self-loathing he feels fit to burst; as if that inky blackness is going to start leaking from the pads of his fingers and into the bed. It feels very much like that’s all his ‘’work’’ ever was: an unfortunate stain on otherwise worthwhile parchment.

❛❛ How’re you doing…? ❜❜ She knows it’s a frivolous question, but she can’t help but ask. As she perches on the edge of the bed, a gentle hand sweeps over his forehead, brushing unkempt curls aside. Her little guy has always had such thick hair. She’s learned over time that there’s no point in trying to tame it. ❛❛ It’s… been a while since you got out of bed. Yer father ‘n’ I’re really worried about you. Are you… sick? ❜❜

Sick in the heart, mama. Sick in the brain. ❛❛ … no. I’m just tired. ❜❜

❛❛ Tired? ❜❜

❛❛ Yeah. Really tired. ❜❜

He watches numbly as his mother moves to lay beside him. His bed is small, singular, and even though he doesn’t really desire company he feels himself shuffling backwards in order to give her more room, his back snugly against the wall. She’s a small woman, so it isn’t as if he’s struggling to breathe. When he entered his tens, he’d dwarfed her almost immediately. It had become a running joke, constantly measuring himself up with her and asking, ’’how much longer are you gonna be bigger than me?’’

❛❛ Maybe it would help to get out of bed? ❜❜ The small smile that curls onto her face is safe. While he may have told someone else saying something similar to him to fuck off, never his mother. Never her. She’s only ever tried to do the things that make him happy. ❛❛ I know that you think you’re a failure, Alé, but yer not. You’re not. Okay? You’re. Not. ❜❜

❛❛ Mama-- ❜❜ ❛❛ Please stop-- ❜❜

His lips press tightly together as he watches her eyes fill with tears. It’s now that he realises just how much he’s worrying her. It hits him with the startling weight of a truck, hard and fast, and all at once it’s difficult to keep his eyes on her. It’s even worse when she brings her hands to his face, pulling him closer and closer until she can press a gentle kiss to his forehead. Tender fingers reach up, card through his hair even in spite of its nightmarish tangles, his head drawn to her chest.

❛❛ … you’re my son. I know you better than anybody. Yer smart, ‘n’ funny, ‘n’ talented, ‘n’ yer ideas are out of this world. The crowd loves you. That hasn’t changed just because you failed once. It’ll never change. So long as you keep making things, it’ll never change. So please, keep making things. ❜❜

Though it by no means fixes the battered state of his heart, it soothes the ache just a little, and ‘just a little’ makes it bearable. Though he doesn’t suddenly believe in himself, he tells convinces him to tell her that she’s right, that he’s being too hard on himself ( no you’re not no you’re not no you’re not ) and at some point drags himself from the warm cocoon of his sheets with her help. He showers for the first time in forever, tends to himself properly, and then goes downstairs to eat. His mother is allowed to feed him a whole meal after months of him starving himself and living on scraps. It hadn’t all been intentional. He’d simply had no desire to eat at all. When his father enters the house after tending the fields all day, he all but double-takes when he sees his son somewhere other than buried in his bed.

❛❛ By Gods… it’s him. ❜❜ ❛❛ Ha-Ha, dad. Maybe the real stage presence in this family is you. Total knockout. ❜❜

The small ‘smack’ delivered to the back of his head is filled with nothing but affection. For just one night, they feel like they have their son back.

* * *

For a while, he thought he was going to be okay.

For a while, waking up every morning at the crack of dawn and helping his father with fruit-picking and orchard-watering had been enough to motivate him. For a while, peeling their harvest in the cellar with his mother and stuffing it into kegs had been enough to distract him. For a while, Murr really thought that the quiet family life could salvage his wounded pride, his shattered self-image, his exhausted brain-- but it couldn’t. None of it can.

His parents have started to notice the bad habits creeping back in. They’re mysteriously out of cough syrup when hay season comes and irritates their throats. His notebook remains as empty as it did the day after he bought it. As soon as he’s done with work, he goes straight to bed, most of the time not even stopping to eat before collapsing out of sheer exhaustion. His mother tries to make sure he has some sort of breakfast before he goes out to work; most of the time he picks at it, clearly disinterested. His father tries to talk to him about re-applying for school. On the surface, he meets them both with a vague sense of cooperation; a deceitful amicability, almost, before retiring to bed and letting his deep sense of apathy take over.

The longer he thinks about it, the more disconnected from himself that he feels. He’s no longer a student, or a best friend, or an on-and-off-maybe-crush. At this point, he barely even feels like a son. He’s just a lost man in a void sea, floating wherever the grief takes him, the little paper boat that’s been crudely folded for him out of playwright notes and fantastical plots beginning to grow soggy and sink. At the end of the day, when all is said and done, he can do nothing to stop the overwhelming emptiness from taking over.

And Kuro… God, he hates him. The more he thinks about the other, the more twisted up he becomes. He’s always had an explosive temper, since he was a young child, but the outbursts have been getting so much worse lately. He knocked a plate out of his mother’s hand a few days ago when she tried to feed him. He threw an empty pail at his father when he’d tried to insist that he should give school another go. Though he’d apologised both times, blaming his current moodiness, he hadn’t felt any guilt-- just more anger, sick and hateful, and somewhere along the way it had turned into an anguish so raw that it was difficult to remain upright.

This is your fault. You can’t do anything right. If you had tried to reach him more, he wouldn’t have turned his back on you. He did you a service, not attending your piss-poor performance. It would probably have been a huge embarrassment to the both of you. God, you suck… you know that Kuro isn’t the only one, right? It isn’t just Kuro that thinks you’re worthless, even if it’s his opinion that hurts you the most. Your mom thinks you’re moody and mean. Your dad thinks you flopped on purpose so you could have an easy life as the spoiled rich kid in the Murphy household. They both think you failed them, and you did. Your peers at school haven’t tried to reach out to you since you left. Not one of them. You know why? Because they’re all embarrassed by you too. They hate you, Murr. Everyone hates you. Kuro hates you. Kuro has hated you for a long time. Kuro never liked you. Kuro despised you all along and you fell for it. You fell for it, Murphy. You fell for him. How does that feel?

It feels overwhelmingly painful. It’s why he dulls the ache with copious amounts of medication. In a way, whenever that concoction slides down his throat he feels a sense of relief. Not because he’s immediately high or he feels a sudden disconnect from the strain, but because it feels as if this feeling can really be cured; as if he’s able to reach inside of himself and apply medicine to the places that hurt the most.

When he stumbles out of his house early one morning in the midst of a storm, it’s with the pitiful gait of a man so intoxicated he can barely make progress. Nevertheless, his dose propels him down the hill, all but tumbling down the steep incline and into the field below. The floaty feeling that spreads through his body as he lays face-up in the sunshine field ( as he and Kuro had so eloquently dubbed it after observing that the weeds had looked much like tiny suns ) is pleasant. It doesn’t last, but while it does he’s happy, glazed eyes staring up into the endless sky, rain spattering heavily against his face. Normally, he hates getting his hair wet, but in this state he’s unaware-- doesn’t possess the motor function to be irritated by it.

At some point, he clambers to his feet again, slipping and sliding his way up the second hill as if caught on ice, entangled in the throes of a drug-induced dizziness, and somehow, he manages to wedge his foot into the footholes of the Big Tree and begin climbing. Only Raku knows how he manages, arms shaking with the effort it takes to even lift himself from the base of the trunk.

Me and Kuro used to do this all the time. Now that I’m grown, it’s easier to climb. Maybe if I climb I can reach that state of happiness again. If I keep going, higher and higher, maybe I can leave my life behind and live in my memory, the place where nothing hurts and everything is right and I was happy and I had a life ahead of me--

Somewhere along the way, the high begins to die down, a dead weight in his chest as he starts his mindless ascent. What replaces it is a sorrow so dreary that he starts crying, tears mixing with the rain. Air that crackles with static becomes hot and heavy to his aching lungs, the sadness that spreads itself across them like butter so thick that his breaths rattle like chains. His climbing is frantic, as if he’s really trying to reach somewhere beyond the stretches of his imagination; as if he truly believes that a different world is waiting for him beyond the barrier of leaves.

It doesn’t take him long to reach the surface. In fact, so surprised by his fast mount of the giant monument is he that he very nearly falls while searching for a further footfall, only to realise there isn’t one. With his elevated height, it’s now easy for his face to push itself through the thick foliage - something he couldn’t do as a child - features exposed to the sky. To his turbulent sense of grief, there is no light, ethereal plane above. The storm is the same, the night thick with cloud and and dreary headaches. He feels his expression falling until he’s left with the same apathetic arrangement as usual.

What was I thinking? Of course there’s nothing above this threshold. Of course there’s no memory palace, no safe havens, no pleasant things-- just rot, and rain, and dark. Just vapid emptiness. Just nothing. Dear Gods… my life means nothing. I mean nothing. There’s nothing for me here. What I thought was mine was snatched from my hands.

Sobbing at the top of the tree feels right somehow. Hunched there in the leaves, tight and balled, as invisible now as he’s felt for the past few months, it brings him some amount of solace to wring himself dry of feeling. He cries until his throat begins to hurt; until his hoodie has been soaked through; until his boots become slick and slippery. Everything just hurts so much. And there’s nothing I can do to escape it. There’s nothing I can do to--

His thoughts are interrupted by his shoe slipping badly as he begins to squirm his way down. He slides along branches, some snapping with the force, and falls a short way down until his arms are able to wrap around a thick branch that is capable of hosting his weight. Even in the heavy rain, he can hear the bark groaning, as if it too is expressing a deep discontentment with him. Check that, Murphy - not even trees like you.

With his face momentarily buried into his shoulder, trying to clear his vision of tears and water, he gets a glance at the ground. He really didn’t fall that far; he’s left suspended a great ways off the ground still, his legs dangling like nooses. Somewhere inside of him is a fight pulling through, legs swinging in an attempt to lock around the tree and continue his descent. His boots continue to slip, unable to find purchase.

God-fucking-damnit. I can’t get up.

Why’re you fighting so hard though?

The thought brings with it an alarming amount of clarity. When he really settles down to tackle it, why is he struggling so vehemently to remain aloft? His family is disappointed in him; his best friend has suddenly decided he hates his guts; his college career went down the drain; he’s stuck working on a farm that reminds him of all the dear things he once had but no longer does. Is this all there is? Haunted memories and half-people? A safe, average existence that risks absolutely nothing? Betrayal from those you trusted with your soul? Was this really all he had to look forward to after leaving his fluffy childhood behind?

Oh, you’re crying again. Big surprise. Shut up. Stop whining. This is your fault. ❛❛ I know… I know… so pleeease... ❜❜

You don’t seem like you want to get back up.

Does he? Even though he knows that this voice has a tendency to say the worst things, is it wrong? He feels the strength leaving his arms slowly, though he wriggles desperately in an attempt to remain hanging there. If I can just wait until dawn, my dad’ll find me--

You KNOW you have the strength to pull yourself up. You just don’t want to.

❛❛ ... ❜❜

It’s this thought that is the final nail in the coffin. Really, these thoughts are right. Why is he trying so much? All he ever does is fail. No matter how much effort he puts into things, he always comes up short. Everything that he touches dies in some way. He’s incredibly unstable and makes his mother cry. He can’t do anything right… but he could let go right. He could do that. Even a complete idiot like him could do that, couldn’t he?

Sure you could, kid. You know you could. Think of it as a service. Besides, you’re so high up, it’d be relatively painless. Relatively.

It isn’t painless. It hurts as if hell has opened up inside of him, a torn scream escaping his raw throat before he falls still and quiet in a heap on the ground. Unable to move, blood pooling around his head, he feels his vision swim and give out.

Hey…! HEY!! … yer cryin’... Screw off… I thought ya died.

His eyes open halfway, as if he expects to see his dearest friend scrabbling his way down the tree, just like he had all those years ago. There’s nobody there. Of course there isn’t. Why would there be? Nobody’s coming to get me. Even when I came to get them, they’re not going to come and get me.

A slideshow of mismatched memories play through his head at the speed of sound, a sensory overload that ultimately leaves his ears ringing and his eyes stinging. Kuro… I miss you… I could never hate you… I need you here… don’t you see that you’re the reason for all of this pain…? All I want is for you to come back… please come back. I’ll try harder! I’ll reach further! I just need you to come back please come back please please PLEASE COME AND GET ME I FUCKED UP REALLY BAD--

He doesn’t.

#🞮 ┋ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ᴏᴜʀ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴇᴇᴍ ᴄᴏʟᴅ. ❜ ( murr // main. )#🞮 ┋ ᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟʏ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏꜰ ᴜs. ❜ ( murr // ic. )#drabble *#/ dear god i know i'm the only who cares about murr but this makes me wanna fucking die bro #also blockquotes don't wanna work at the moment pfft #but i'll add em in later when tumblr stops being a dumbfuck i guess #also 'ale' is a short nickname for his name which u can maybe tell :3c

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trash-by-trash · 6 years ago

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A Snake (Finally) Falls Asleep

A/N: Writing? On this blog?? It’s more likely than you think. (I happened to finish this on Remy’s birthday, so Happy Birthday Our Kween, just killed two birds with one stone :^)

Ships/Pairings: (Pre)Platonic/Romantic Roceit (You decide!!)

Word Count: 3,171 ;^)

Warnings: Sympathetic deceit, negative thoughts

Everything about Deceit’s life was a lie. Literally, seeing as they were the personification of lies, every lie Thomas had told, was going to tell, and other random lies that had sprouted here and there. He even spoke in lies when he was very nervous, or angry, or upset, or anything, for heaven's sake! Unless of course...he acted like someone else.

Being Deceit was annoying, to say the least, and none of the “light sides,” or so Roman had dubbed them, really liked him. He wasn’t good enough for them, but he was more similar to them than they thought. He liked baking sweets, even if they failed horrendously, he still...semi-enjoyed them. Due to the cold of his room, he had his own hoodie, which he tried to make using scraps of fabric he managed to find. It...didn’t turn out well, but it kept him warm. Sometimes.

He enjoyed reading, he really did, but books were something he couldn’t make, and it's not like the light sides had many books littered around. All he had was a few children's picture books from when Thomas was a kid. Dee picked one of the small paperback books from his nightstand. It was called Don’t Let the Pigeon Ride the Bus [A/N: ;) ], and it had a very simple story, but Dee had grown up loving it. It was one of the few books he managed to get, and he read it before he went to bed. Sometimes he managed to sleep easily, other times he hardly sleeps, other times he sleeps too much. He really didn’t have a schedule.

What Deceit had in common with the side that created them all, and probably regretted creating HIM, was theatre. He actually really liked theatre, he liked acting, he loved the feeling of being someone else. To take on a different character, to become them. He had gotten pretty good at it if his impersonation of Patton had anything to say about it. He regretted that occasion a lot because he messed up. Really, really bad. He shouldn’t have revealed himself, and now he has to take on the lying, awkward, rude persona that is Deceit. I mean, yes, it was himself, but he didn’t mean to hurt anyone or make anyone upset. He was just really, really bad at communicating, so his jokes came across as...mean.

When Dee was especially tired of being his snake-faced self, he resided to working on his story. It wasn’t much really, just a normal person in a group of friends. He worked on the character, he had pinpointed every single detail about them, he had several stories where they hung out, got into shenanigans, the whole cheesy teen movie deal. After all, he had a lot of time to do it.

Though he wouldn’t admit it, he found he inserted himself into the main character, or rather, inserted who he wished he was. He wished he didn’t have to lie. He wished the others didn't hate him and his stupid snake face. Dee brushed his fingers over his scales, gloves scattered somewhere in his room. He felt each stupid scale, the edges leading into another one until they stopped at his neck.

Robin, the main character of his story, did not have scales. In fact, Robin was a normal person. They had a normal face, with eyes that had normal pupils, and did not have to wear an excessive amount of clothes to hide their scales. Their hair was soft and didn’t have knots, it wasn’t a frizzy mess. They also had friends, good friends, that didn’t hate him or pretended to like him. And when Robin wasn’t a boy, when Robin was an enby, they didn’t mind it. Robin felt comfortable enough to tell them because they knew they’d be accepted.

Hot tears fell down Dee’s face as he held up his drawing of Robin. Sometimes Dee didn’t feel like a boy either, but really, who was there to tell that, too? He didn’t have anyone to talk to except his own thoughts. He wanted to talk to someone, he wanted to be told that he was valid whether he was a boy or not, and that he was loved. Deceit rubbed his eyes, wincing from the pain of rubbing accidentally rubbing against his scales as well. He got up from the floor, grabbed his not-really-a hoodie, and did his best to try and sleep, telling himself that out there, there was someone who loved him. Out there, there was someone who cares about him.

But he can tell a lie when he sees one.

Deceit sunk into the mindscape, or rather, the version of it for the “dark” sides. They didn’t like to be called a dark side, but they knew they were one nonetheless. They walked over the darkly lit kitchen, opening the fridge slowly so that no one would hear them. They didn’t know what time it was, and frankly didn’t care, but they didn’t want to wake anyone up. They searched through the few things there, grabbed a cheese stick, and sat in the corner, next to the couch, where no one could see them, to eat it. Suddenly, they heard someone come into the room. They pulled their knees up to their chest, trying to make themselves as small as possible so they wouldn’t be noticed.

“Alright, gurl, we both know you’re here and in the need of some dire “Sleep time,” so I came to the rescue. I’m such a gentleman.” Remy announced, Starbucks in hand, looking under the table, in the hallway, kitchen; anywhere someone would hide. Dee held their breath, quickly sinking out into their room.

Dee opened their eyes to find themselves in the corner of his bedroom. He slowly crawled up onto his bed, looking for his book, something to calm him down from the scare of Remy finding him. Remy did that sometimes, but usually only with the “light” sides. They would pop up, scare them, and convince them to take a break from whatever and just sleep. It was weird for it to happen to Deceit.

They looked through the clutter in their room, looking for their book, when they felt a warm wave pop into the room. Crap.

“Gurl, why are you ignoring me?” Remy said, walking over to where Dee was, crouched on the floor, looking through a pile of misshapen, honestly looking terrified. “What's wrong, hon? Cat got your tongue?” He laughed, pulling his shades up to make eye contact with the jittery snake. “It's alright, you don’t gotta talk. Whatcha lookin’ for?”

Dee looked down at the pile. First off. Why was Remy in his room? Second of all, how on EARTH would they describe that they were looking for their book. From there, why would Remy even help? Remy wasn’t a side but still passed through Thomas’ mindscape from time to time to make sure the man got some sleep every once in a while. His visits were contained to the light sides mindscape.

“Well, you’re looking for somethin’, Dee, so, like the awesome person I am, I’m gonna help you find it,” Remy said, taking off his shades, looking through the pile. He glanced at Deceit every now and then to see if he could notice a reaction. Really, right now Dee was very confused and surprised at being given a nickname. Remy noticed that there was no response from Deceit, so the thing must have not been in the pile.

“Hm, not here then. C’mon, gurl, let's go look in the other piles.” Remy extended his hand towards Dee, who cautiously took it and got up. They searched through three other piles until they finally found the book. It was under a fabric that Deceit had, as well as a couple of unfinished crochet projects. Dee held it up, standing and sitting on the bed. Remy got up and sat next to them.

“Favorite book?” Deceit nodded, running their fingers over the cover. Remy watched silently, glancing from the book cover to Dee. They looked up, making eye contact with the personification of sleep.

“Do you want me to read it to you?” Dee blinked, surprised, slowly nodding. Remy smiled softly at them, shifting onto the bed, patting down next to them for Deceit to sit. Dee hesitantly crawled across the bed to sit next to Remy. “Get comfy, queen, ‘cause I’m a bomb storyteller.” Waiting until Dee cuddled up next to him, Remy started reading the picture book.

Deceit wouldn’t admit it, but Remy indeed was a good storyteller, adding his attitude and comments in every once in a while, making it a pleasant experience. Dee didn’t really know if they should trust Remy, but being read to wasn’t something terribly bad, especially since the other was radiating heat. Dee snuggled up closer to him, feeling their eyes shut slowly. That was the magic of Sleep, huh? Sort of a Midas touch.

Dee dozed off slowly, totally because they didn’t have a choice due to Remy’s ability, and not because it was nice to sleep knowing someone may protect you from the night terrors. Remy closed the book and set it aside. He looked down at Deceit, who was sound asleep. His work here was done. He smiled gently and put his sunglasses back on. Creeping slowly off the bed, he “sunk out”; if you could call it that. After all, he’s not exactly a side.

Remy stood in the dark sides kitchen (of sorts), and decided that he may as well get some tea while he’s at it. He started to heat up the water and searched the kitchen for any mugs. He found one that had a nice little rainbow on it...accompanied with the words life is hell. How sweet.

He filled the mug with hot water and dropped his tea bag in it. As he waited for it to become legitimate tea, he started to get lost in his thoughts, lost in this thing we call the void…

Remy was strolling down the hall, in the search for the restroom to tidy his makeup up a bit. He was about to check a door when he heard sobs coming from down the hall. He tried to ignore them, opening the door: not a restroom. Again, the sobs continued. Remy tried to ignore them, he really did, but the sounds of the weeping coming from behind the door were nerve-wracking, even for Sleep.

He leaned against the door to listen to what was happening. He could hear the sobs, and a distant voice saying some...honestly awful things. Then, all of a sudden, the voice was saying brighter things, words of love and affection, but without a change of the angry tone. It seemed to cause the sounds of the side crying to increase. Remy opened the door a smudge: it was Deceit. Crap.

Now, as much as Remy helped the light sides, because they were “the main ones” and it affected Thomas more, he wasn't really sure that his job included helping the dark sides sleep. Yet, he couldn't stand this feeling to help Deceit after seeing him all...shattered like that. He looked so tired; not just from not sleeping enough. Remy didn't really know what to do but...he decided to ignore his gut and walked quietly to the dark sides “living room.” More of a dead room, honestly, it was quite drab.

It wasn't his job to take care of the dark sides. They were bad, and that's final. Then again...Remy sighed. It's not like he wasn't a total jerk sometimes, heck, the light sides were too. And though, yes, Dee was on a different scale…(A/N: oh puns) it wasn't really right to leave him alone, was it? Remy felt someone enter the room, and when he turned to see who it was, he simply knew what he had to do.

Remy grabbed the mug and leaned against the counter, pondering the events of earlier. Dee wasn't that bad. They were actually adorable, in a way. Remy smiled. Deceit was sleeping soundly now. Mission complete.

He placed the mug into the sink, threw away the tea bag until he was off on his merry way. Except...it turns out Dee was not sleeping soundly.

“Sssleep? Are you there?” The snake-faced side walked into the kitchen, cheeks with clear tear tracks, hair messy, eyes frantic- searching. They shivered and walked around until they made eye contact with Sleep. “What are you-? Nevermind, it's sssstupid, sssorry to bother you…” They stammered, crying, turning around to exit the kitchen.

Remy pressed his lips tight together. On one hand, he could leave, he had the chance. He could just forget this didn't happen and have better tasting tea in the light sides mindscape. But...he didn't really give Dee a “good night sleep,” did he? That was kind of the point.

“Deceit, wait.” Dee turned to glance at Remy, not facing him directly but stopped nonetheless. “What aren't you in bed, sleeping?” He wanted to add “you look tired as hell,” but that didn't seem appropriate for the situation.

Dee sucked in a breath. “I...I was scared brave...”

Remy winced. Oh. “Dee...I'm sorry, I thought you'd be able to sleep on your own, I shouldn't have assumed-” Dee held up their hand.

“Sss’kay.” They said, ready to shuffle away from the conversation before it got awkward (at least more than already) and they made Remy upset (or more upset. They could never do anything right, could they?). Their mind was already racing, and they were really cold, so they may as well go back. They were already walking away (again) before they felt a hand on their shoulder. Dee immediately pulled away, spooked and surprised by it.

Remy pulled his hand back, not wanting to make Deceit feel uncomfortable. They stood there for an awkward twenty seconds, just kind of staring and blinking until Remy finally spoke up.

“Deceit. I'm sorry I left. It's my job as Sleep to make sure you actually were able to do so. If you'd like, I can still help you fall asleep.” Remy said in a serious tone.

“...if I'm not bothering you, I'd be grateful unappreciative for you to help me sleep,” Dee responded quietly. Sleep nodded, and Deceit turned back to go to their room.

“Dee, where are you going?” Remy asked, puzzled. Dee turned around, for what felt like the millionth time, a pang of fear striking through them. Oh gosh, they messed up, didn't they? “Your room is way too cold, I don’t know why I thought you sleep in there, I’m sorry. We can go to the mindscape. It's much warmer and has actual blankets.”

Dee stared at Remy with wide eyes, muttering, “..they don’t like me, I won’t be allowed in.” Remy gave them a sympathetic look. “Deceit, they won’t kick you out. I’ll make sure of it.” They took in a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go.”

Remy and Deceit were in the mindscape and awkwardly sat in the beanbags in the corner. Remy quietly sipped his tea and internally sweating bullets. He took a long sip, glancing at Dee from the corner of his eye.

“So, how’s life been recently? Mine has been so bland, I seriously have nothing to do half the time. You?” Remy smiled softly at Dee, trying to make the atmosphere more amiable. Deceit looked over at Sleep, blinking slowly, and then looked down to face the floor.

Dee muttered out his answer, “I don’t do much, I guess…I read a little, I, um, I like to sew a little. I’ve tried baking before, but it didn’t turn out that well, but I’m still learning. Sorry, I’m kind of boring.”

“Nah, you do more than I do. Baking is pretty cool, though it's freaking hard to get it right. I would burn water if I tried.” He laughed and turned to completely faced Deceit. “I tried to make a cheese sandwich once and ended up with a crispy melted lump of bread. That’s why I stick to Patton’s cooking, and Virgil isn’t that bad at it either, despite being an absolutely nervous-wreck.” Sleep chuckled to himself but realized Dee wasn’t laughing with him. “Something wrong, Dee?”

They glanced at Remy with a nervous look on their face. “They..they really don’t like me. Especially not Roman, he hates me the most. Virgil...he…” Dee stopped mid-sentence. They looked back at Remy and gave him an awkward smile. “Sorry.” Remy returned it with a sympathetic look.

“It’s fine. I understand, when people don’t...are you alright?” Dee had their knees up to their head and had their face hidden. He awkwardly put his hand on their shoulder. “Hey, it's alright.” Dee immediately tried to shrug off his hand, panicking even more, tears streaming down their face, breath rapid.

“Sorry...I’m sorry, I just, I got spooked, I’m so sorry, I just, I-” They started muttering unintelligible words, trembling. Remy didn’t really know what to say or do, so he awkwardly tried to console them, but wasn’t really succeeding. It took a while for Dee to calm down, around ten minutes. They took in a deep breath, and wipe their eyes. “Sorry, Remy, I freaked out. I understand if you want me to leave.” He looked at the distraught side, feeling sympathy for them.

“It's alright, Deceit. It’s not your fault, and it's not mine, at least I hope.” He gave Dee a bright smile. Remy sighed and extended his hand to give Dee the option to hold it or not. They hesitated but held his hand. “You alright now? It's okay if you aren’t.” The look in Remy’s eyes was so sincere, but Dee couldn’t help but distrust it. He hated them, he hated their guts, it's impossible for anyone not to. They were so lost in their thought they didn’t even realize when they leaned into Remy and they started hugging. They didn’t realize when they started crying again, or when the other started stroking their hair, not letting go of their hand. One thing they did realize was when Remy started whispering his best attempt at words of comfort.

“It's going to be okay, alright? I have no idea what your problems are, and I don’t know how to help, but I’m here, alright?” He mumbled, pulling Dee closer. The words made them feel...safe, honestly. Deceit pulled back for a bit, staring Remy in the eye. He had pulled his shades up at some point, he wasn’t sure when. Maybe this whole time he didn’t have them on, and he just didn’t notice. It didn’t matter.

“Thanks. I’m really, really grateful. That isn’t a lie.” They hugged Remy again, feeling a state of relaxation wash over him. Remy pulled Deceit closer as they fell asleep. He sighed contentedly.

“You really are an adorable dork, Dee.”

General Tag List:

@icantbeme71097 @retro-remix @sanderssideblog @countessmissyshort @onenightjoanly @hissesssss @acrazia @thisrandomperson102 @desolate-darlin

@musikasworld

#sympathetic deceit #negative thoughts tw #negative thinking tw #remy sanders #sleep sanders #deceit sanders #tsdeceit #sanders sides fanfic #remceit #platonic remceit

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attemptingtowriteagain · 6 years ago

Text

Commander Cody x Jedi!Reader

Protective Sentence Starters : “Don’t ever leave my sight again.”

A/N: So this ended up taking longer than i thought it would...

Warnings : None

Word Count : 1902

Blaster fire exploded all around you as you ran through the streets of Christophsis, almost slipping when you took a turn to sharp. You spared a quick glance over your shoulder and caught a glimpse of the battle droids rolling hot on your heels.

"Kriffing hell." You cursed under your breath. You quickly opened up the link on your com. "Cody! Cody, come in!"

"Yes General?" The strained voice of the Clone Commander sounded from your wrist. You could hear the sound of the war going on a couple blocks away. Your heart jumped in your throat at the thought of him being hurt in the battle. You pushed the feeling aside turning another corner.

"Please tell me that you have the droid poppers in place. I'm closing in and I have Destroyers, B2-HA's and tankers on my tail! They're closing in fast and I can't take them out by my self."

"Sorry General. These clankers are coming in to heavy." There was a thud and a grunt before he continued. "We might need to lose ground if were goin' to win this battle."

"Cody is right, (Y/N)." Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice patched in on the com. You huffed as you turned another corner.

And into a dead end.

"Oh no...." You gasped. "Kriff!" You yelled as a blaster bullet nearly missed your temple.

"(Y/N)- General, are you okay?" The Commanders worried voice carried over the loud sounds of blasters. Quickly as you could, you pulled your lightsaber out and deflected as many shots as you could.

"No!" You gritted your teeth. Sweat starting to bead on your forehead. "I must have taken a wrong turn! I'm stuck... In a dead end." You grunted falling back until the wall hit your back. The way to get back was closed off by 4 Destroyers and 3 B2-Ha's. The tanker was just starting to come into view.

"You need to get back over here and regroup with the rest of the battalion." Obi-Wan commanded.

"No." You hissed as you ricocheted a bullet back and shot down one of the B2 units.

"No?! What the kriff do you mean no?" Cody snapped and the grunted and you heard more blaster shots ring out.

"You guys are swarmed. If I regroup, I'll just end up bringing all these droids to you. You'll be over run!" You threw your last droid popper and set it off. The electrical shock gave you enough time to jump along the walls and behind the the tank. It slowly started to turn as you dashed down the street again, leading the opposing army away from the rendezvous point.

"I'm going to lead them in the other direction." A realization hit you and your voice turned somber as you turned and saw two more tanks join the chase behind you. "I'll hold them off as long as I can."

"(Y/N), no! You must regroup!" Cody urged frantically.

"I'm sorry, Cody." You sighed, tears forming in your eyes and you turned the com off, running away from what you were sure was your only hope at survival.

Commander Cody ducked behind a broken wall as more shots barely missed him. He furiously jammed on him com device, trying to connect to you again.

"(Y/N)! Dammit!" He exclaimed in frustration and pulled himself from behind the wreckage and focused his anger on taking out as many droids as he could before needing to duck down again.

"Calm yourself Cody!" Obi-Wan called from behind a downed walker. "We need you focused! (Y/N) will have to take care of herself." His heart jumped into his throat at the thought of you facing at least half of a droid battalion all by yourself.

Cody knew it was wrong and against every regulation, but he cared for you more deeply than he should of. He wasn't even sure himself when the respect he had for you being a General and a friend turned into longing of wanting you beside him every day. He spent most days at your side and most nights being not to far from you. It was only thing about this god forsaken war that he enjoyed. He knew with every fiber of his being that he was in love you. When he was alone at night, he spent his time trying to remember when those feeling changed.

Had it been when he took you 79's after a long drawn out battle to relax and you out drank more than half men there in a drinking game? The repercussions of which cause Cody to have you carry you back to your room at the Jedi temple while you drunkenly explained to him why purple wasn't a color but a lifestyle.

Was it every time the two of you would sit atop one of the gunships while everyone else was sleeping? You always had yourself wrapped in a soft blanket and he would always bring the caf. The two of you would spend hours talking or just sitting in the quiet watching the stars.

Maybe it was the way you jumped into battle to protect those who couldn't protect themselves and even always made sure to cover his brothers if you could.

Cody could contemplate all the ways he had fallen for you but he knew the answer to his internal conflict.

He knew he loved you from the moment he met you. Your easy smile and the way your eyes lit up every time you talked to him, how couldn't you melt his heart? And he knew he could never live with himself if he didn't help you now, against orders or not.

"I'm going to help General (Y/N)!" Cody yelled, looking to were your last com coordinates came from. "She won't make it on her own!"

"No Cody! I'm ordering you stay here!"

"I'm sorry General but I can't do that." Cody looked at Obi-Wan, and even though Cody was wearing his helmet, Obi-Wan could feel the determined gaze.

Sighing Obi-Wan nodded and pointed off past the right of the droid army.

"She's over that way." Cody swung his head in the direction his General pointed and sure enough every few seconds a red bullet could be seen flying towards the sky. Without looking back, Cody pushed himself out from behind the debris and towards you.

You slammed yourself against the wall after rounding the corner, trying to catch your breath.

'I can't keep this up much longer.' You thought.

You peeked around the bend and nearly got your nose taken off by a blaster shot. You tore yourself off the wall and started down the street again. You didn't get far before there was a series of explosions behind you. You held out your lightsaber in front of you, ready for whatever was coming around the bend.

"(Y/N)!?" An all to familiar voice called through the smoke and dust. Relief flooded you and you almost collapsed.

"Cody?" You called out tentatively. A figure skidded to a halt in the middle of the intersection and looked around wildly. They did a double take when they saw you. You could have cried when the recognizable orange visor came into view. "Oh.. Cody!" Deactivating your lightsaber, you ran forward and threw your arms around Cody's neck. Without hesitation, he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you tight against him.

"I thought I was a goner..." You mumbled into his armor. Your heart hammered in your chest as you let the man you had fallen in love with hold you. Jedi rules and Clone regulations be damned. If he would ask it of you, you knew you would leave the Jedi Order for him.

"I would never let that happen." Cody stated fiercely and pulled you tighter to him. You felt your face heat up and buried you face into his neck, sighing deeply. You pulled back to say something when a fast scrapping noise rang out in between the buildings. Cody's head swung around and he swore.

"We got rollies coming! And I don't have any droid poppers, only grenades."

"Then drop them!" You insisted and you pulled yourself away from him.

"We won't have enough time to get out of the blast zone." Cody warned as he dropped the grenades and grasped your hand to pull you with him as he started to run down the street. "Hold on!" He yelled and a small group of destroyer droids rolled around the corner. Cody hit the detonator and the next thing you felt was Cody pulling you to his chest and the explosion knock you both off your feet. The air was knock out of your lungs and Cody landed on top of you before both of you rolled to a stop, you on top of him.

Your forehead rested on his bare cheek and you looked up to that the blast has forced his helmet off. You both took deep breaths as you looked into each other eyes. His amber eyes looked deeply into yours and you couldn't help but run your thumb over the scar on his temple. Cody leaned into your touch and sighed. The words were right on the tip his tongue, it was difficult for him not to say them and kiss you. Kiss you and never stop. Unbeknownst to him, you were fighting the same internal battle. And lost.

"I love you." You blurted out and held your breath, waiting to see his reaction. His eyes widen, caught off guard. "I have since I met you." You admitted.

Cody smiled softly as he brushed his fingers along your cheek to tuck hair behind your ear. Cinders from the fire started to fall around the both of you but they were paid no mind.

"Don't ever leave my sight again." He joked and you couldn't help but smile. "I love you." He finally admitted, feeling a weight being lifted from him.

You responded by slowly leaning forward and softy placing your lips over his. It felt like your whole body came alive as his cupped the back of you neck, moving his lips against your at a slow place. You reached up and cupped his face, sighing when he ran his tongue you bottom lip. Without hesitation, you opened your mouth and allowed him to explore. The war, the world, and everything but Cody disappeared. He only pulled away when you both needed air.

"I wish we could stay like this." He confessed and kissed you jaw briefly.

"Hm...." You hummed and pecked his lips one more time. "Maybe when this battle is over, we could find a quiet place to talk?" Cody smiled and pulled you in for another kiss before his com started to beep.

"Cody, did you find General (Y/N)?" Obi-Wan's voice rang out.

"Yes sir, we are on our way back now."

"Good, the enemy forces seem to have been defeated. Make your way to the gunship so we can go."

"Yes, sir." Cody switched the com off and shifted to help you stand up.

"I don't know about you," You started, brushing the dirt off yourself. "But I am starving." Cody chuckled and kissed you deeply once more before retrieving his helmet.

"Same. How 'bout we grab dinner when we get back to the Resolute?"

"I think I could do that." You smiled coyly and for what felt like the first time in your life, you felt complete.

#commander cody #commander cody x reader #reader insert #star wars #star wars the clone wars #cody x reader #commander x reader #jedi

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spaceorphan18 · 7 years ago

Text

Finding Kurt Hummel: A Katy or a Gaga

Masterpost

5x04: A Katy or a Gaga

It’s about this time that Glee decided - I just don’t give a fuck anymore. And that’s fine by me because I actually love these super cracky episodes of season 5. And underneath all the crazy jokes, there’s a bit of heart and a bit deeper story, you just have to go looking. Now - I will say that it’s silly to me to compare Katys and Gagas, because the two artists aren’t all that different. I’d say the two of them vs Adele is probably a more striking difference in presentation. But as the end of the episode states - who cares about any of it. It’s arbitrary anyway. Just be true to whatever your weird self brings forth.

That One Time Kurt Hummel Started a Band

So, we all thought the rumors were a joke until we actually saw the episode. That’s right, Kurt Hummel decided to start his own Madonna cover band! And then he decided one dude singing Madonna was a bit limited, so he decided to open it up to letting girls in - which makes it easy as he has three girls ready and available. Or - two and a half, as Rachel isn’t really ready to do much more than focus on her Funny Girl Broadway stint. (Why she isn’t focusing all of her attention on that is beyond me, but this isn’t about Rachel.)

So, let’s break this down. Is Kurt starting a band really out of nowhere? No, I don’t really think so. I mean it is mentioned at the end of Tina in the Sky with Diamonds, lol. But really - he tells Rachel that she shouldn’t just let life pass you by, and later on, he talks about attempting to do something a little more mainstream so to get better recognition. So I think this is Kurt deciding - hey, life is too short, I need to get myself out there and seen, and I’d like to perform more. Why not start something myself and make something out of it.

(I have to wonder if this stems a little in part because Chris wouldn’t let the writers let Kurt be a writer (even if Kurt becomes a little bit of a writer.))

Anyway - he is all enthusiasm and joy as he talks Santana, Dani, and Rachel into it. But, it’s funny, he’s still playing it a little safe asking them to join. Would he have really taken the risk if he didn’t have three singers in his back pocket to join him? I don’t know...

Meanwhile - let’s take a quick second and talk about Adam. It’s a throwaway line, but one that does pack a bit into it. See - I’m still guessing that Adam was still thinking things were just fine, if going really slowly. And then Kurt goes away for spring break and comes back engaged to his ex. I’m not surprised that Adam kicked him out of the Apples.

So - Dani is totally in (bummer they never do anything with her). Santana wants partial control, which Kurt is okay with (for the most part). Rachel won’t be joining just yet - nor do I blame the girl. And Kurt’s one happy kitty thinking this whole thing is in the bag.

Enter Starchild, Stage Left

If this still doesn’t sum up Kurt and Santana’s relationship - I don’t know what would.

Kurt’s scrapped together all of his tip money to rent out NYADA’s one room to hold band auditions. (At this point, my main issue with NYC stuff is that it’s claustrophobic. They have two sets. I mean they have the diner now, and new cast members help but sometimes it feels stifling.) Anyway - I’m bypassing the implausibility that in all of New York /no one/ shows up to this indy band audition. I mean - c’mon, you’ve seen American Idol and all the crazies that show up just to get ten seconds of fame.

Now that I think of it, this whole American Idol-ish set up is purposeful, most likely, as Adam Lambert started there. And there’s your real reason for Kurt’s band, folks.

Anyway... Santana wants to name the band The Apocalypsticks. And Kurt’s having none of that. Can you say -- this kid likes control?

Man - all of Kurt’s facial expressions in this scene are priceless.

So - we have our introduction to Adam Lambert’s Elliott “Starchild” Gilbert. And he out Kurt Hummel’s Kurt in just about every way. Which is probably why Kurt isn’t even at all open to the possibility.

I mean, okay. So Elliott comes in, looking crazy fab, in a costume he designed himself, and exudes confidence while still retaining an incredibly kind demeanor. But on top of that, here’s a guy whose presence is noted the moment he walks in the room. And Kurt’s still screaming to be heard. Kurt thinks “competition” right off the bat, and dismisses Elliott before really even giving him a chance. Hence the barbs about the clothes, and the disturbed looks throughout the performance.

I don’t even like this song - and still love this performance. Adam Lambert is amazing.

Santana freaking loves it. Kurt is all -- nope, and a bit of -- what is even going on. It’s kind of hilarious to me that as much as Kurt has always considered himself as “out there” when he’s face with actual “out there” he’s a bit conservative about his ideals. Kurt dismisses Elliott without even thinking about it (not even worrying about Santana’s threats to bitch slap him) on the basis that Elliot, and his look, is too much. But the underlying thing is that this band is about Kurt - and Kurt doesn’t want to be overshadowed by someone who not only shines as a performer, but has the possibility of completely outshining him. And Kurt’s insecurities get the best of him.

Role Reversal

Okay, so I really love this scene. Why? because it’s flipped from every other Hummelberry scene that we usually get. Kurt’s the one having a crisis of character and Rachel is the one to help doing the emotional lifting. Was that so hard show? Was it? Here’s a Hummelberry I can get behind.

But SO? Isn’t it hypocritical that you only like Hummelberry when it’s in Kurt’s favor? YUP! Actually - I like Hummelberry fine, it just got tedious as a Kurt fan watching every plot line start with a Kurt story and end with a Rachel story and/or Kurt playing the “gay best friend” there to support Rachel. It’s nice that they give Kurt an actual story line and let Rachel play the supporting role.

Anyway. Rachel’s heard from Santana that Kurt doesn’t want to share the “lavender lime light” with Elliott. Rachel calls him out on possibly being jealous or wanting the band’s attention all to himself. Kurt counters - saying that’s not really what it is (though that is a part of it), but more so that he wants to try to be something that fits in, that’s mainstream, that is easily accessible. And Elliott, and all his Elliott glory, would not work for that.

It’s interesting that this pulls on some threads from season 3 - mostly that Kurt feels like he can’t appeal to a mass demographic and because of that it’ll hold him back. And it’s such a fascinating thing because when you look at it from a Doylist POV - this quickly, gay character is not only now a leading role (and the leading male role), but also lead role in a romance story. Oh Kurt - if you could only view your life like the rest of us can.

I think also, interestingly, this is where the show itself decides to stop being the mainstream thing that everyone wanted it to be (or that it was in the beginning) and becomes the niche, cult show. Own it Glee. Own it.

Anyway, Kurt laments, however, that all of this is hard. Interestingly, he’s looking to the future, wanting the stability, and that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to take the easy way if possible. It’s interesting because I think both Finn’s death and being engaged play a role in all of this. I mean Kurt thinking about his future, and how he’s going to make it out there, and that you only live once - do what you can to secure your future stability is written all over it.

Well, Rachel says what I’m thinking -- being different is always hard, but it’s better to be you, kiddo.

Or -- in the language that this episode is going for -- Kurt’s a Gaga trying to be a Katy so he can be as successful as his friends because he thinks they’re Katys (even though they’re both Gagas. Hm.) - but the fact that he is a Gaga frustrates him because he thinks he’s too specific and individual and niche to ever have success in a mainstream way. But Rachel tells him that being a Gaga is awesome, and if he isn’t true to his Gaga self, then he’s never really gonna get anywhere. And, maybe joining up with other Gagas instead of pushing them away isn’t such a bad thing. (lol this paragraph)

Oh - and I should mention, because if I don’t someone will yell at me - Kurt’s sewing his own clothes. Yup, skill Kurt Hummel has probably always had - in action. Nice touch, Glee.

On an Intermission

So - let’s talk about Kurt as a waiter. Um. He’s not very good at it, lol. Oh Kurt - you should take a page out of Cooper Anderson’s book, and use serving as an opportunity to try out new things, like accents, and different personalities. It’ll help you get through the day more -- promise.

Anyway - after a lot of soul searching, Kurt decides that Rachel might be right, and Elliott would be helpful to his band instead of harmful. And through TV magic, and Elliott desperately needing to be in Kurt’s band to fulfill his own bucket-list, Elliot’s there in the diner, toned down, and ready to play by Kurt’s rules. Kurt, however, doesn’t need him to be toned down - just to be his authentic self because Kurt wants to be his authentic self, too, and they should both try that out together -- with everyone else in the band.

(Also, we learn that Elliott is from New Jersey, land of malls, and he didn’t get into NYADA - because NYADA is apparently stupid.)

So - Adam Lambert joins the cast for a tragically short amount of time.

I also love that Santana comes along and tells Kurt to stop flirting because of his fiance back in Lima. (And then gets all hot and excited when she learns who he’s talking to.) And this leads to an aside from me - look, I get there are a ton of Kurt/Elliott shippers out there. I get it, they have a nice chemistry about them. But I really love Kurt and Elliott’s friendship. I kind of love that these two can be friends and there aren’t any romantic overtones to it. But obvs. that’s just me.

Pamela Lansbury

So. I love this scene, it’s just quiet and snarky as they Kurt, Santana, Dani, and Elliott try to come up with names for the band. “Queen” Kurt is shooting them all down, though. Oh Kurt - your wanting to be in control will always be a part of you, won’t it. Personally, I liked Aerola 51s, lol. Anyway, I kinda wish we had more scenes like this - they’re so much fun.

So, Rachel comes in, and magically comes up with Pamela Lansbury for the name. Which. Sure. I mean, I get it - it makes sense for Kurt, especially the Lansbury part. Not so sure about naming the band that has connotations to your future mother-in-law, but you don’t know that yet, do you ;)

This is what crazy Kurt looks like. Have we ever seen him make this face before? I don’t know.

Anyway - Kurt tries to get Rachel to join because sure -- she’s just dealing with the death of the person she thought she’d spend the rest of her life with, starring in a Broadway show, going to college, and working as a waitress -- but what’s a little side band, too? (I mean, god, even I think she needs a break.) But Kurt is magical and can talk her into it. And bam -- Kurt will not even get to sing in his own band.

(Seriously - why are Chris’s vocals not on this one? Fail, Glee. And you were doing so well!)

However, I still love Roar. It’s my jam. And even if Kurt doesn’t sing -- at least he’s having fun with the rope they managed to tie to the ceiling? Oh this show...

Gay, gay, gay, gay, Rachel. <----------Season 5 NYC in a nutshell.

I love season 5! **YAY**

#finding kh #kurt hummel #hey look i finally updated

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somewhereapart · 7 years ago

Text

BIn41 Sneak Peek, by request...

I had a CuriousCat request to post a BIn sneak peek, so here ya go:

Robin texts her on Friday around noon, when he finally wakes up: Hope you got some sleep last night. Dreamt of you all morning.

She answers a few minutes later, telling him, I did. Thanks.

Robin frowns. That was a bit… short, particularly for someone who'd had him balls deep inside her last night. Then he remembers just why, and that she’d said she needed a few days to work off her anger, so he texts: Still pissed?

Mmhmm. It’ll pass.

He sighs, and tells her, I’ll leave you to your work then. Call if you need anything.

He considers it a small consolation that she replies at all, even more so that she tells him, Thanks, I will. And thanks for last night.

So not all bad, then, he deduces with a little smile, unable to resist the urge to text back: Your knickers were thanks enough luv, with a devilish little emoji as punctuation.

Speaking of… He rolls over, fishing her thong from the pocket of the jeans he’d left crumpled on the floor when he’d fallen into bed early this morning, then flops back onto his mattress with a sigh just as his phone buzzes again.

It’s another text from her, three words that make him laugh out loud: With. Your. Life.

On my honor, I swear to protect them, he shoots back and then he tosses the phone aside, and lifts the little scrap of fabric. He hooks a fingertip in either side of the waistband and holds them up, finally getting a good look – he hadn’t really had much of a chance last night, now, had he?

It’s just a small triangle of pale grey, not cotton, something softer than that, with lavender lace along the waistband. Her bra had been lavender, too, come to think of it – quite possibly this exact lavender, and lacy, just like this. It occurs to him then it was probably a set, and no wonder she hadn’t been keen on parting with them.

Alas, too late now, he thinks with a smirk and very little remorse.

She has such a bloody tiny waist, he muses, giving the lace a little stretch and turning her knickers around to appreciate the back side – or lack thereof. God, she must have looked bloody incredible in this; he almost regrets not taking her skirt off altogether so he could enjoy the view.

Almost.

Not quite.

The view had been pretty spectacular as it was. Really, incredibly fantastic.

He’s just settling in to enjoy the memory of it, of her on top of him, all wild and fierce (and yes, angry, but it appears it’s an anger that will blow over, so he’s willing to overlook that for now), just starting to mull over the lovely details, and feeling his cock start to stir when he hears the pounding scamper of feet up the stairs, and a voice calling his name – “Robin?”

His heart lurches when he realizes it’s Henry, and he has just enough time to shove the boy’s mother’s knickers (Christ, she’d absolutely murder him) under his pillows before his door swings open, and Tuck comes bounding in, Henry behind him.

Nothing has ever killed a boner faster. Thank God he’d still had his shorts on.

Henry skids to a stop and scowls at the sight of Robin still in bed, asking, “Why aren’t you up yet? It’s lunchtime.”

“For you, maybe,” Robin tells him, sitting up and hoping he doesn’t look nearly as panic-stricken as he feels. “Some of us work late and sleep late.”

“Oh,” Henry remembers, with a look of regret. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was awake,” Robin assures him, swinging his legs off to the side and pulling on those same jeans, because, well, they’re there, and they’re clean enough. He spies the open condom wrapper that he’d pocketed on the floor where it must have slipped free at some point, and sends up another prayer of thanks, this time for the fact that Henry is on the other side of the bed.

“What did you want?” he asks, as he toes it surreptitiously under the bed and fully out of sight.

“I was bored,” Henry shrugs. “I thought maybe you could show me some new stuff on the guitar. Or we could go to the park or something.”

One of those sounds like it takes a bit too much brainpower for his newly awakened self, the other a bit too much energy. So Robin suggests instead, “How about we start with some lunch?”

.::.

The flaw in this whole lunch plan becomes apparent as soon as they get to the kitchen. He and John are, to put it plainly, shit at keeping a full fridge. With John away so often for work, and Robin eating half his weekly dinners at the bar, they don’t need to keep a whole lot of food in the house – not proper food anyway.

And he’d meant to do some shopping today on his day off – refresh their stores of white bread and cold cuts and cheese. Pick up some proper fruit and veg for the weekend with Roland, and restock his supply of mac and cheese, maybe get some hot dogs to throw in, or one of those ready-made rotisserie chickens.

But as he’s just rolled out of bed, he hasn’t exactly had a chance to do that yet, so they’re left to fend for themselves with what they’ve got: a tomato that’s starting to wrinkle a bit, some eggs, a carton of milk he pulls out and takes a whiff of – and then regrets with a wince, setting it back on the shelf with a stern reminder to himself to dump the little that’s left down the drain later. Some three-day-old take-out pork lo mein, and a lime.

Well, then.

Robin zeroes in on the eggs, suggesting, “How about some fried egg sandwiches?”

He has enough bread, and there’s a half-spent jar of ketchup in the fridge door. It’ll do for lunch.

And Henry is game, tells him, “Sure,” with an agreeable shrug, so Robin reaches in and pops open the carton to find one lonely egg resting inside.

Right.

He looks at Henry and asks, “I don’t suppose your mum has eggs?”

She does – of course she does – so they head next door, dog in tow, and take advantage of Regina’s decidedly fuller fridge.

She’s down to the last egg in the carton as well – but there’s another full dozen resting underneath it. The ketchup he pulls from the door is organic, the bread they find in the breadbox is a hearty seven-grain – not ideal if you ask him (there’s something nice about the bland, pillowy softness of WonderBread when it comes to an egg sandwich) but it’ll do.

She’s also got a crisper full of apples, a half-full carton of raspberries, two cartons of milk (a quart of skim that he imagines is hers, and a half gallon of 2% for Henry), a small pyramid of yogurts, some fresh-from-the-deli shaved turkey, and a packet of pork chops. There’s one of the plastic cartons of ready-made mixed greens for salads, a carton of cherry tomatoes, and a cucumber.

It’s a well-stocked pinnacle of health that puts his paltry bachelor pad selection to shame, and he’s half-tempted to beg her guidance for his own shopping. But then, half of it would probably just go bad on the shelf, and that’d be a waste, wouldn’t it?

And it’s neither here nor there at the moment, so he puts the thought aside, and gets to making their eggs.

Henry watches, and helps, pulling out four slices of bread at Robin’s urging, and cutting up a couple of apples for them with this corer-slicer thing that is handy enough Robin makes a mental note to look into getting one himself for Roland’s snacktime.

Before too long they’re settled at the table, munching away at their sandwiches and apple pieces, Robin occasionally tossing Tuck bits of that turkey from the fridge (he and Henry have sworn a pact of secrecy about feeding table scraps to the dog).

Two bites in, Henry declares, “This is really good,” and Robin discovers the boy has never had a fried egg sandwich before in his life.

“You’re joking,” he tells him, and then he decides, “No, you're probably not, are you? Now I regret making it with fancy bread – you should have had a proper one.”

“Mom says that white bread is a waste of calories, unless it’s homemade or from France,” Henry tells him, and Robin snorts a little laugh.

“That sounds like something your mum would say,” he chuckles, adding, “I bet she’d have a stroke if she saw my fridge.”

“Probably,” Henry shrugs munching away. “Why don’t you buy better food? Or more food.”

Robin smirks and tells him, “To be honest, I’m rather a lazy git, or at least – when it comes to food only I’m going to eat, I don’t care as much. I was going to go shopping today – for Roland. But during the week, I don’t really cook all that much, so I don’t need a lot of food.”

“If you don’t need very much, then you should buy better stuff than just eggs and beer,” Henry tells him, and Robin snorts.

Touché.

“Maybe I’ll ask your mum for some pointers,” Robin tells him, taking a bite of his sandwich after he adds, “She seems to have things pretty put together.”

Henry answers, “Yeah,” but then he’s frowning into his plate a bit, something clearly on his mind.

The boy’s never had trouble speaking his mind, though, so Robin waits him out, lets him gather his thoughts. After a few seconds, Henry says, “I’m worried about her.”

“Your mum?”

“Yeah,” he confirms. “She hasn’t been, y’know… Mom the last few days? We had a bad weekend, and then she had that headache, and she looks kinda sick. And last night, she went to bed before I even did.”

“She’s having a hard week,” Robin tells him, adding, “She’ll be alright, though; she’s tough,” before taking another bite of his sandwich.

Henry just frowns at him, and then asks, “How would you know? You were here for like five minutes on Tuesday.”

Robin freezes mid-chew.

Right.

All their other visits were a bit more… nocturnal. Henry has no idea – nor should he – that he’s seen Regina nearly every day this week.

He half-finishes chewing, then swallows heavily, and tells the boy, “We text sometimes.”

“You do?”

“Mmhmm,” Robin confirms. “About you, most of the time – if she needs me to take you for a bit, or has a question about your lessons, or whatever. But sometimes just about… life. How our days are going, what’s on our mind. Stuff like that.”

Henry lets out a surprised little Huh, and takes a bite of his own sandwich.

He seems to leave it at that, so Robin counts his blessings, and takes another bite of his own – and then nearly chokes a bit when Henry asks, “Are you my mom’s best friend?”

#breaking in #sneak peek #breaking in sneak peek #somewhereapart writes

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verdigrisprowl · 7 years ago

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June 7 Blurr’s Horror Stream - Man Vs

Not a whole lot happened. To Soundwave’s dread, Jazz showed up.

Welcome to the 'speedxstealer' room. The chat room has been cleared by the moderator. B l u r r: / welcome to the movie room. There are snacks on the table and crates full of glowing disk credits thrown all about the room. Here's the Captain, sliding down a pile and spreading them everywhere/ ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble strolls in and pokes at the crates of credits.* _Whirl: ((please ls, work)) Bevel: *nudges a crate aside with her foot as she enters* ItsyBitsySpyers: //Never seen nobody take "rollin' in money" literal.// B l u r r: Well, it's all stolen, so it has a much more satisfying feel. Whirl: ((is there any music playing....)) B l u r r: Besides. A lot of it is stained with energon. /rolls a disk between his digits/ B l u r r: [[ yeh ]] Whirl: ((SIGH)) B l u r r: [[ ;-; ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Frenzy trots in and flops between Bevel and Blurr so he can be around both. Soundwave takes up most of his usual couch.* Whirl: ((ok ls just isn't gonna do it SO i'm gonna try and pull it up on my netflix)) Whirl: ((tell me when you start and I'll run mine simultaneously)) B l u r r: [[ mkay. ]] Prowl: ((lmao i used to do that with friends on youtube before LS was a thing)) Whirl: *trots on in, and pauses, foot raised, as he takes in Blurr's riches* B l u r r: / nudges Frenzy / Whirl: What did you DO, Teach? B l u r r: Who, me? Whirl: ((i've had to do it before, LS is a little fartknocker)) Whirl: Yes. *gestures to all the money* Rob a bank? B l u r r: /smirks and motions around/ Incorrect. B l u r r: I raided the shipment of credits going TO the bank. Prowl: ((that is exactly the thing which LS is)) B l u r r: Intercepted the ship before it made it there and took everything inside of it. Whirl: Pfft. Nice. B l u r r: Then we tore apart the ship and here we are. Whirl: *finishes walking and flings himself up on his hammock* B l u r r: Real quick attack. Small team. B l u r r: Speaking of which, are you ready to move in yet? /looks at Bevel / ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble trots over to the hammock and bobs his head. Mind?* Whirl: *bobs his head back; of course not! He'll offer a helping claw or leg, should it be needed* Bevel: *looks up from the device she's fiddling with* Yes. Whirl: Giving the pirate life a shot? B l u r r: Good. When are you moving in? Today? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Up with the claw he goes, and settled in.* Whirl: ((IT'S WORKING NOW excellent)) ItsyBitsySpyers: \\YOU KNOW WHO KNOW?\\ Bevel: *grins at Whirl* Yep! B l u r r: We'll see if you can keep up. K-Kyeheheh. Whirl: *also wriggles around until the ridiculous assortment of elbows that is his body is nice and comfy* Nice. Bevel: *and back to Blurr* I can move in today. B l u r r: Good. We've cleared a room out for you. Hope you and your... whatever you call it can bunk. Whirl: Makes me ostalgic for the days when I used to, oh, I don't know, do ANYTHING. B l u r r: / the joke is the ship is huge and has too many rooms / B l u r r: Well, Whirl, you're always welcome to come on our next raid. Whirl: ((what song is this? it is familiar >8|a)) B l u r r: I've been tracking a rather large mass floating around an old place I used to circle. Whirl: Depends on what you're doing, but--sure, maybe. B l u r r: (( it's from Transformers rofl. It's called There Is No Plan )) B l u r r: [[ even tho Prime was a dirty liar and there was always a plan )) Whirl: ((that would be why it was familiar!)) B l u r r: Anyway... I think I've klled more than enough people today to relax. Bevel: We can bunk. Rolodex does not need a lot of space. Just me. B l u r r: / stretches out like a cat and lays all over his couch / B l u r r: Good, because I don't have time to be playing Home Makeover with you and your... Endurance. B l u r r: I have...a more pressing, obnoxious issue to deal with. Bevel: Amica Endura. B l u r r: yeah that. B l u r r: / covers face with claws and long vents/ I really needed that spree, though. You mechs have no idea... Whirl: No, trust me. I do. B l u r r: [[ everyone ready? ]] Whirl: ((ye)) ItsyBitsySpyers: ((yep)) Bevel: [[yes B l u r r: Ugh, there's this pressing migraine and I just... needed to let loose. B l u r r: [[ is le puff ready? ]] Prowl: ((ye)) Prowl: ((*... changes name to pink*)) Prowl: ((please imagine a rosy pink prowl)) Bevel: [[beautiful B l u r r: / leans over the couch to look at Soundwave / Hey, Soundwave. You haven't been to Earth lately, have you? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Soundwave is stretched across the full length of his couch and can't see behind himself to look at Blurr. So he uses a feeler to do it instead. Periscope up.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[That depends on why you want to know.]] B l u r r: Oh, I was just wondering if you'd heard from your new best friend. /sneers/ Whirl: ((beaut)) ItsyBitsySpyers: *...What has Earth got to do with Prowl?* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[And who might that be?]] B l u r r: ... /snickers/ Jazz, right? Word is you two hang out a lot. Whirl: *looks sidelong to Soundwave, amused* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Jazz is NOT his 'best friend'.]] B l u r r: That's not what he says ItsyBitsySpyers: [[98% of what leaves Jazz mouth are lies. The rest is nonsense.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Jazz is a duty. That is all.]] Whirl: Hm. Like the music choice... B l u r r: Oh, I don't know. B l u r r: He seems real passionate about it. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Of course he is! Jazz knows he would hate it. Does hate it.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Why do you even ask?]] B l u r r: Oh, I was just hoping to surprise you, that's all. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[......................................................Surprise him?]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Oh. Oh no. No, no, no.* B l u r r: Yes. Jazz: *hi hello I have arrived* Yo, Sounders! Long time no see! * 8) * ItsyBitsySpyers: *Already sitting up and -- PRIMUS DAMN IT* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Stubbornly stretches back out.* ItsyBitsySpyers: [[If only it could be longer. This couch is occupied. Find your own.]] Bevel: That is not a very nice surprise. *laughing* B l u r r: K-KYAHAHAHA!! Jazz: Aw, come on, man. I'm small compared to yah. Jazz: *swats at him* I'm just kiddin' man. I'm only here for the night. Blurr invited me. B l u r r: [[ this movie is catching my eye a lot faster than i thought ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *Feeler swats at the swatting hand* Whirl: *watches this with no small amount of amusement* Jazz: *grins and flashes visor like a wink* Relax, Sounders. Yah act like we don't hang out. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[Remind him to find a way to punish Blurr.]] ItsyBitsySpyers: *STARES AT HIM WITH THAT FEELER. YOU DICK.* B l u r r: Excuse me? I have to handle him for the night. I wanted to share my headache. ItsyBitsySpyers: [[And he doesn't have his own?]] B l u r r: I wanted to share. Sharing is caring. ItsyBitsySpyers: ((it's taken me this long to realize it's making fun of that one show)) B l u r r: [[ it is! ]] ItsyBitsySpyers: [[If that is caring, he'd hate to see what you do when you don't.]] B l u r r: Oh, come now... I can be kind. Jazz: *is going to drag over a chair and sit on that instead* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Irritated puff.* ItsyBitsySpyers: *Rumble just giggles.* Whirl: *softly, to Rumble* This is the guy that super-sized Professor Z, right? ItsyBitsySpyers: *Whispering.* //Yeah. How come?// Jazz: *reclines and kicks pedes up* Whirl: Just wondering if this was the same guy. ItsyBitsySpyers: *Aw. Rumble was sorta hoping Whirl would, like. Shoot him.* Whirl: ...and whether or not your boss dislikes him because of THAT or because of another reason. ...or reasons. ItsyBitsySpyers: //All both?// B l u r r: [[ lemme know if it drops really bad ]] Whirl: *snickers* Whirl: ((i had to go back to netflix but it's probably my connection)) B l u r r: [[ sorry ;A; ]] Whirl: ((ain't your fault! o7)) ItsyBitsySpyers: //What kinda dumbaft all by his dumb self sees scrap like that 'n goes, yeah, that's for me? I ain't got no weapons or nothin', 'n I'm-- ItsyBitsySpyers: squishy 'n weak, but sure, I'mma look.// ItsyBitsySpyers: \\I'D GO.\\ ItsyBitsySpyers: //See.// B l u r r: I would do it... Whirl: Me, too. Jazz: Yeah, why not, man? It's way out there and he's explorin'. Take a look. ItsyBitsySpyers: //Look! It don't even want the fish.// Whirl: Well I wouldn't eat the fish, of course. B l u r r: [[ its about to drop. ]] B l u r r: [[ or it was ]] Jazz: I dunno, some humans eat some odd things B l u r r: [[ this is better than man vs wild ]] B l u r r: [[ did it drop? ]] Prowl: ((the image is a little stuttery but it's still good here)) Bevel: [[Same B l u r r: [ its telling me its dropping so just hit me up if it does drop offline ]] B l u r r: ALSO GORE AHEAD ]] Whirl: *thinks about the rabbits he got for Ravage a few weeks ago...* Whirl: *they were probably not dispatched so cleanly* Whirl: More like the boredom, I'd say. Whirl: uh oh. The rabbit's back and it's P ISSED. B l u r r: K-Kyeheh. What? Jazz: I hand it to this guy, though, he's got guts bein' out there like that. Whirl: *whips out the good old canister from his subspace and starts drinking* B l u r r: / said canister better have normal stuff in it / Whirl: I guess. I mean, it's about time for him to go out and FIGHT the whatever-it-is. Jazz: Confrontin' it is a good idea too. Whirl: I mean, he eats meat. So... if it turns out to be hostile, why not? Jazz: True that. Jazz: [ LOL Me with geese ]] Whirl: It's only been, like, two days! Bevel: He is not very good at this. Jazz: Nah, he's losin' his grip out there. B l u r r: I hope there's a monster out there B l u r r: [[ is it dropping really bad?? ]] Bevel: Tiny monster. Bevel: [[lagging/stuttering really badly B l u r r: [[ ugh. Sorry. ]] Prowl: ((same. but it's still going.)) B l u r r: [[ comcast decided to fucck up my internet ]] B l u r r: [[ i think my laptop is also getting old ]] B l u r r: or it's LS. ]] Jazz: Maybe it's like a shape shiftin' monster or somethin'. B l u r r: Whatever kind it is, it's really smart. B l u r r: Hey, wait... isn't that a trap? Bevel: Shapeshifters are cool. B l u r r: So, he's being hunted? B l u r r: [[ psycho chess playing lumberjack. ]] B l u r r: [[ im so done ]] B l u r r: [[ god LS can you stop dropping for ten seconds ]] Jazz: Why do humans always leave their friends behind- you know that dude's gonna be dead. B l u r r: !! Monster! Whirl: *in the interim where his player was very quiet, please assume Whirl has nodded off* B l u r r: wow... it's wide scale? Bevel: *has been fiddling with a small project this whole time* Whirl: ((i had to step away and i missed it, but i didn't pause my netflix so here i am at the end with y'all 8) )) B l u r r: Wow... his face got smacked off. K-Kyeheheh. B l u r r: Wow. A clean murder. How interesting. Jazz: Oh man, so more are showin' up? Sucks for 'im. Bevel: Is there more to the movie? *so confused by the sudden ending* Jazz: I think the point is he's gonna have to fight more Bevel: Yeah but I wanted to see it. Jazz: What, the whole fight? Jazz: that coulda taken hours. Bevel: So? Jazz: I dunno, you can't have a movie be like four hours man Bevel: Lord of the Rings is really long and it has lots of battles. B l u r r: It's also like four movies long. Bevel: Six. Which is awesome. B l u r r: Same difference. B l u r r: [ stretches out ] In any case... B l u r r: I suppose I have to get you settled in, hn? Bevel: If you want. Jazz: You're movin' into this rust bucket, too? Yikes. Sounds like a real party. B l u r r: Jazz doesn't live here. He's just ...visiting. Bevel: I did not see any rust. Jazz: Did yah look high enough? B l u r r: / snarls and waves a claw / My ship is not rusty... Bevel: It is really hard not to. Whirl: ((thanks for the stream, speddy o7 assume whirl eventually woke up and went home!)) B l u r r: [ mkay. ] Jazz: All I'm sayin' is workin' here ain't no cakewalk. You should ask everyone else. B l u r r: I swear, if he wasn't important, I would grind him up in a blender and feed him to the Empties. Bevel: I was a mercenary. It was not a cakewalk either. B l u r r: I would imagine not. Oh well, you're on my ship now. B l u r r: Our jobs are more fun. Bevel: *grins* We will see. B l u r r: / smirks a little / Yes we will. B l u r r: / waves claw/ As for Jazz, we're dropping him off back home. B l u r r: Then we can get you settled in. Bevel: Ok. B l u r r: You need any supplies? Bevel: No but we brought some stuff from my planet. Extra energon and some building materials I was able to trade for. B l u r r: Mm... well. Just remember that anything you're adding onto the ship needs to be cleared, though I'm pretty open to whatever B l u r r: It's your room, do whatever you want. Just don't weaken the ship. Bevel: I can do that. B l u r r: Sounds good to me. Bevel: *then off they go because Bevel is going now* Jazz: *waves claw* B l u r r: See you later. B l u r r: We'll discuss things then.

#chat

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takerfoxx · 8 years ago

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“Fires of the Sun: Epilogue” Thoughts

All right, let’s wrap this up.

Okay, starting things off with Yukari's scene, her bits with Byakuren and the remaining SDM crew are pretty self-explanatory and don't require a whole lot of commentary. I am going to say that I actually have no idea where Sakuya's character development is going to take her, save that this sort of quiet, reserved, no fucks given madness thing she has going on right now is…sort of intriguing. She's gone beyond rage, beyond grief, beyond hate, and is, at that moment, more dangerous than she's ever been. And though I haven't planned where it's going to take her just yet, I am interested in finding out.

Bringing Koakuma back was always a given, though the manner went through some changes. Originally I had planned for Shinki to be the one to receive the request and have her reject it out of hand because of rules or some such, only for Yukari to show an uncharacteristic amount of kindness and snap at her, causing Shinki to relent. However, some last minute changes in the previous chapter meant that Shinki was no longer available, so that scene unfortunately had to go. I also was thinking of having Koakuma still be wearing her Serpentine Marauder uniform upon being summoned back. Theor natural consequence of that would of course have Yukari recognize it, draw some unfortunate conclusions, and immediately start interrogating the poor little devil. Honestly that would have been the better choice, as it opens up numerous plot and character opportunities, but at the time I was tired and didn't want to expand things any more than they already were, so I just had her show up naked like a proper summoned succubus and left it at that. The poor girl was already having a rough day anyway.

The final bit with Satori and co. gave me some issues. At that point, I was growing concerned about the runtime of Yukari's scene, especially when compared to the later ones, and felt that her having a third encounter would make it a little tedious, and considered giving it its own section. However, that disrupted the flow of how these loose end scenes were being set up, and everyone was already there anyway, so screw it. Fortunately, in reading it over, it wasn't as bad as I feared, so that worked out. Also, originally I was just going to have her yank Jun and Utsuho over in a couple of sentences, but given what Utsuho had been through, she deserved a little more. However, her scene with Jun was in danger of running too long, as they started to have a serious discussion of their relationship thus far and Jun's bullying of her, and while that would have been interesting, the focus at that moment needed to be on Satori's return, so it was trimmed. But in doing so, it seems a little abrupt and out of place, so perhaps that wasn't a fantastic idea after all.

As for Satori herself, she should thank her lucky stars that her original plotline got scrapped. It was a little awkward dividing her time between her affectionate pets and talking to Yukari. I still get a kick out of her mind-reading answering all of her question instantaneously, and am very glad that that's back. I did have to use my mental wayback machine to recall everything that she wouldn't know as well as everything she should know and remind myself that she did get a good look at Yuuka's true form. Also, I don't care how much he's slipped out of relevancy. Soulja Boy will always remain a form of torture.

The scene from Yuuka's POV (or what's left of her) was short, but worked very well. I'm not really one for flowery, poetic language. Slightly sarcastic and to the point is more my style. But I did try to slow things down and get a little verbose when trying to describe Yuuka's condition. After all, Mima's lovely speech to her was only going to be a few paragraphs, and I really wanted to drive home just how unbelievably broken she was. I mean, the burns are one thing, but Yuuka is have now officially fallen off the crazy tree and hit every branch along the way. Funny thing about her fourth wall breaking thing: originally, it was done simply to set up some gags in the future, have her interrupt the author's notes and stuff like that. But the execution proved to be even bigger than I had expected, and once it was there and started to get a lot of attention, I realized that now I had gone through with it, I needed to take it seriously. Having her be a Deadpool sort of character cracking postmodern, self-referential jokes wasn't going to do it. And going the full Stephen King route of having her break into our world and kill me or something like that would be too honky.

So instead of just making it be a silly thing or drive her to do something way over the top, I decided to let that one peek she got be the whole plotline. That was all she was ever going to see. There wasn't going to be any cutting into other Gensokyos, no entering our world, no including me as a character, outside of those talking directly to the audience bits. She was just going to get a quick look, long enough to realize what was going on, and have it bring everything crashing down on her. Her status as a fictional character was going to literally drive her nuts, cause her to question everything, have an existential crisis, and essentially drive her mad, which is pretty ironic, considering what she is. She would try to deal, become obsessed with storytelling conventions, and over time delude herself into believing that she was the main character. And as such, Yidhra the Outer God, a being beyond comprehension who would literally drive lesser mortals insane by her mere existence, was in turn driven mad herself by something she couldn't understand. Karma, baby.

Reimu's scene was to establish how tense the whole battle would have been to something unable to participate. She, Reisen, and Remilia filled the roles of worried loved ones stuck at home, desperately waiting for any sort of news. And as is my wont, that news was delivered in the silliest manner possible. Y'know, the whole Tengu newspaper business has a lot of fun possibilities. I've been frequently annoyed by clickbait sites like Knowable and whatnot as of late and how irritating their set-up is that I realized how much the Tengu would love such a set-up. Steal other people's stories, compile them under a huge, annoyingly attention grabbing title, and then cut them up in the most irritating way possible to squeeze every cent out of advertisers. And you ever notice that when they say stuff like, "Number three is shocking!", the actual number three doesn't really stand out all that much from the others?

Though that aside, you really have to feel for Remilia here. Her whole humble pie arc was intended to break her down from being a smug snake and make her a more sympathetic character, but damn did it go far. As for Reimu, I'm not too sure where her story is going to go from here. I mean, I know what part she'll be playing during the big climatic scenes in the future, but as for how she'll handle the news of Mima's heel turn or anything involving Rin Satsuki or her friends or whatever, I have no idea. Will she stay at the shrine or will Yukari end up moving her somewhere safer? Will Alice get to teach her magic or not? What is she going to do with her time until the shit hits the fan again? I just don't know yet, but I look forward to finding out.

On a side note, I did plan a cutaway to Alice and Shanghai, but realized that I didn't have anything for them to do that would add to the chapter, so it got cut. We can always catch up with them later.

And then we get to Rin's scene. This one was a big hodgepodge of points I needed to hit and trying to weave them all together. Okay, Flandre had to acknowledge the trauma of losing her old friends, check. Some banter with Rumia, check. Seija got knocked out again so she doesn't ruin the scene, check. Daiyousei's still got her snowglobe because the hell I'm gonna let it get left behind, check. Kogasa's still crushing on Wriggle, check. Doremy gets a proper introduction (and finally an accurate description of her tail) and helps Rumia sleep while making Rin jealous, check. And all the kids had to finally get named as well. I already knew that Kogasa, Doremy, Sekibanki, Kurumi, Seija, and I guess Sara would be among them. As for the rest, I had already discarded Clownpiece (too strong), the Prismrivers (unlikely to be there), anyone not a loli for…obvious reasons, or anyone part of any specific cast herd. I briefly considered Ringo, but didn't really feel like it. I did scour the remaining PC-98 characters, so that's why there were so many demons. Hey, Yuuka's been to Makai before. To fill in the remaining slots, we had Rengeteki as the obligatory fairy and the glasses-wearing Kappa from the Kappa mob. I almost added one of the nameless PC-98 midbosses, but decided to go for the Kappa instead.

And on aside, Doremy's introductory scene was a hoot. I'm not a huge fan of the newer characters, but she was a lot of fun. She and Cirno are going to get along just fine.

Then we get to the final bit, where Rin discovers the bodies of her parents (and yes, that's what they were, everyone already knows it so I'm not spoiling anything). No real behind the scenes thing with that. It just felt like an appropriate way to wrap up her arc before the hiatus, having her return to the place where her story began and finally get some closure with her origins, even if she hasn't figured out who they were.

In regards to lady Meika, again I can't really talk about who she is and how she's connected to the plot, save that she is something that several characters' individual plotlines are building up to, and her bits take place long after Imperfect Metamorphosis's finale. I did drop several hints though, a few of which have already been picked up on. Not all though.

And then, at last we cut back to Hina, who's been conspicuously missing ever since the Shadow Youkai got sucked out of Rin. That was deliberate, as I wanted her scene to be a surprise, as a final, dark reminder that Rumia Yagami isn't gone for good just yet. Anyway, remember how I mentioned being stunned that I was finally getting to write a scene that had been planned years and years ago? Well, this was that scene, and it felt eerie to finally get to do it.

Though on another aside, I tried to make the whole author notes breakdown even wonkier, even to the point of including ASCII art and weirder formatting. Alas, went and ate it all up. Stupid limited formatting options.

So yeah. That's it. That wraps up Fires of the Sun. Looking back, I'm really happy with how it came out. Were there weak spots and areas that could have been done differently and done better? Yes. Where there parts that I skimped due to, and let's face it, laziness? Yes. Did it surpass The Storm as intended? I'm…not sure. The thing to remember is that when The Storm happened, it was sort of a trendsetter for this story and, and this is going to sound arrogant, for Touhou fics in general. I got a ton of notice in the English Touhou fandom for that mini-arc, mainly due to the surprise inclusion of Lovecraftian elements and Yuuka's big fourth wall break. Also a lot of controversy as well, but hey, free publicity. But that was years ago, back when IM was still on the rise. Now the hype's died down, people have gotten used to it being around, so it just doesn't have the same impact as before. It was more of wrapping things up from that big shocker rather than being another big shocker. Marisa's death came close, but not really to the same level.

So no, I don't think Fires of the Sun matched the impact of The Storm. It's more polished perhaps, and maybe the fight scenes flow better, but it doesn't have the newness The Storm had. But that's okay. This was for everyone who stuck around to see what would happen, a way of bringing about some measure of closure before putting this ginormous story on the shelf. And in that regard, I feel it succeeded nicely.

So…I guess that's it. Wow, okay, Imperfect Metamorphosis is now officially on hiatus. Thank you all so much for reading, and be sure to stick around! More stuff for Subconscious is to come!

Cheers, everyone!

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braxarchives · 4 years ago

Text

Calm Before the Storm ― CANON. (current verse)

Brady and Max are still settling into what it’s like being secret boyfriends for real. They spend some time filming a video for Max’s YouTube channel with some friends, then end up coming home for some long awaited time alone. NSFW.

It was pretty sweet when Brady got to be the designated cameraman for a video Max was doing with other very qualified content creators. Well, okay — it was always that way when it was a video for Max's own channel, because it had to fit with his normal style. But still. It was always interesting when he popped up in other videos that Brady had had nothing to do with filming or editing wise. So he appreciated being a part of the entire process during collabs like this. He got along just as well with their YouTube friends Forest and Maisie, so there were very rarely any issues in a video like this. Of course, recently there was the whole added aspect of keeping a huge secret. So things sometimes felt a little more tense despite the otherwise chill atmosphere, and while Brady was in charge of the videography aspect of everything, he felt a little less in control of... everything else. He was doing his best, though. Max was too. And they were managing pretty well, he thought. No one seemed to suspect anything of them.

Brady was mindful, though. He was currently sitting behind his camera setup, ensuring everyone was in the frame and in focus, and taking notes for editing later on. And the whole time, as he listened to Max go back and forth with Maisie and Forest about the first tiktok trend on their list, Brady had the thought in the back of his mind not to let his eyes linger too long on Max. But also, don’t completely ignore Max because that’s even more obvious. It was a little ridiculous at times, feeling like he had to find a happy medium, but it was always worth it later on. They’d go home and Brady wouldn’t have to worry about any of that anymore (especially with Arlo in the know now). He was sure that all of this being careful would be totally worth it down the line. So maybe he should just spend more of his energy focusing on the video right now. “You guys gotta pick your heads up a little bit,” Brady cut in at a quiet moment, noticing the way things looked through the lens. “You‘re looking all the way down at the phone. Gotta see more of your pretty little faces.” Making them look good was, in fact, his job. “Sorry to pull you away from your riveting ‘wipe it down’ challenges but editing magic can’t fix staring at the top of your heads.”

When it came to the nature of his job sometimes there were people he met up with for a collab and it turned out they were not what he thought they’d be like, but then there were people he knew and trusted and genuinely genuinely enjoyed working with. Max wasn’t the type of person to lead onto the fact he didn’t particularly care for someone anyway. But today he didn’t have to put on a face, because his normal collab team was there. This isn't the first time he'd done videos with Maisie or Forest, and it wouldn't be the last considering Max genuinely felt relaxed around them. And luckily Brady was there too, which would make it more fun because all of his favorites were in one place. Yet Max didn’t feel like he could engage with him like he usually did in videos, which was... strange. He’d been staring at his phone when he heard the quip, and his usual time to fuck with Brady on camera smile crossed his lips. But instead of making some joke about how he always knew Brady thought they were cute — his brain stopped himself, for once. Brady has always rolled his eyes at the joking in the past, but now that it was finally... real, Max knew that it would be too much. Instead, he swallowed his joke. “A little rude of you to interrupt us getting to see five hundred Harley Quinn’s,” he teased instead, all the while lifting his head just as the others did. They moved a little to the side, situating so they could view it better with some muttering thrown between them. He glanced back up to the camera, trying to fight looking directly at Brady, like he was already paying him too much attention and would unsettle him somehow. Jesus. He needed to get back to TikTok. “We good?”

“Yeah, hate to interrupt but I’m trying to do my job here.” Brady watched them readjust and make themselves seen more clearly, and he double checked through the camera. “Perfect. Now go on.” He held up a hand. “Don’t let me hold you back.” That is, until he had to fix something again. Damn influencers just couldn’t handle themselves on camera. But things continued on well, with Brady staying quiet (for the most part). Each of them had chosen a tiktok trend for the video, and Brady had just reset the recording when Forest brought up his pick — to react to the whole walk in on your partner naked trend. And instantly Brady flashed back to a video recorded for not a soul to see, one that was simply meant for them to laugh at after Max had sneakily interrupted one of Brady’s video calls. He paused where he was, head still ducked toward the camera, but his eyes flicked upward to peer at Max. He wanted to laugh or to make a comment, but obviously he couldn’t. In fact, he quickly became aware that even this look might be too telling, and he managed to pull himself away and sit back again, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking.

God, it was hard to keep it all to himself for once. Brady typically had no problem being quiet or reserved about just about anything in his personal life, but something about the thought of all this, the idea that it needed to stay a secret was making some feeling build up in his stomach. At first he couldn’t place it, but then he thought it might just be...excitement. It was sort of thrilling keeping a secret like this. No one else had a clue Brady and Max could lump themselves in with these people they were all playfully making fun of, and that was kinda hot, in a way Brady didn’t totally know how to explain. “You better hope you don’t get demonetized for all this,” Brady settled on pointing out after a bit. He was just itching to direct his train of thought elsewhere, away from Max and the video and— “Supposed to be family friendly here.” And yet, here he was. And so much for thinking of something else. “Although I guess this is why you decided to scrap the ‘recreating tiktok trends’ idea, huh?” he teased. A bold move to just kind of talk about it instead, perhaps. But then maybe that was the key to deflecting after all. Brady hadn’t quite cracked the secret relationship code yet.

The rest of what followed was pretty procedure, with all of them trying to get in angle before continuing on, exchanging jokes before Forest let them in on his latest favorite Tik Tok trend. And Max's stomach flipped almost immediately, and he had to *fight* himself from putting his own self on blast for doing the same shit. To Brady, not quite that long ago, either. Max's whole brand was built on him not holding himself back when it came to certain things, but now more than ever he was trying to. He managed to not look at him as he laughed about the choice, but as Forest was flipping through his phone to find his favorite one, Max's gaze drifted towards Brady’s general direction. He tried to play it off by laughing at some offhand joke the others made as they talked about the trend in general, though his heart thumped heavily against his ribcage for a moment. No one knew the things they did in their own apartment; all of the private videos and pictures he had already. He wanted to tease Brady about it so badly, but this wasn't the time or the place. Still, something possessed him to make some type of comment. Although subtle. But it was no different than his usual jokes on camera, or so he hoped. "If anything they'll pay us more." He joked, Forrest immediately agreeing with him as they all looked up. "Is that you creatively suggesting we do some? Because we can do that." Max playfully took Maisie's following comment of please don't in stride, and his smile grew larger as he shrugged. "Okay, fine. Fair enough." He took that moment to lock eyes with Brady, though to the outside eye it would only look like a tease to the audience only. "Maybe we can film that later, then." He diverted his attention back to Forrest then, like that hadn't been a direct comment to Brady. His stomach twisted, and it felt like a dangerous game suddenly. No one could know. "C'mon. We gotta see some of these TikToks for inspiration now. Like 'n subscribe if you want a part 2."

“I’m not suggesting shit,” Brady insisted. Really, he wasn’t, because that whole hypothetical situation just reeked of disaster. At least Maisie was on his side. Brady wasn’t paying too much attention to her, though. He was looking at Max, maybe hadn’t even realized how long he had been, but it registered with him when Max looked back at him too. If he wasn’t already sitting, he might have dramatically done so just then. The instant Max’s words washed over him, Brady began to register what he’d said, and so many different things entered his mind he could barely keep up. Max may not have know the box he had just opened up, but Brady all too quickly realized that filming something later sounded like a really good idea. Unfortunately, though, he couldn’t start up that conversation now. He had to force himself back into reality once again, tearing his eyes away from Max and back down to his phone in his lap. He hadn’t written down a single note in about ten minutes. He hoped to god any editing mistake wouldn’t be noticeable later.

Aside from the accidental proposition, the rest of their time together went smoothly. Brady made it through without another major hiccup, and when it was time to get his things together, he did so quickly. Not enough that he was clearly in a rush, but he was just... distracted now, and ready to be done. He hung around with them another few minutes before telling Maisie and Forest he was going to go put his stuff away, and he’d see them around. He carried his camera and mic into his room and shut the door behind him, closing his eyes and sighing once he did. God. He wondered briefly if it was always going to be like this, but then, as usual, he didn’t like to think about it for long. So he put his camera back in its bag and set his mic down gently, and then immediately went for the joint he hadn’t had a chance to smoke earlier today. Now seemed as good a time as any.

Max had to force himself not to make anymore comments for the duration of the video, as discreet as they may be. He knew it was pushing it; pushing the line of saying something that fans could read into. Although that never stopped fans from looking too deeply into things before, it was different now, because now they actually had something to hide. It was a good ten minutes after Brady had gone to put his equipment away that Forest and Maisie left, but not before making plans to film a collaboration again sometime next week. He'd joked around with them for a few minutes; throwing out possible ideas. Although in the back of his mind, all he could think about was Brady and how he should separate work Brady from --- boyfriend Brady, and fuck that thought alone had his heart racing, still. And probably why he had such a problem keeping him out of his mind when he was supposed to be filming normal - non suspicious content. After the two had left, Max took a minute to push the chairs back to where they were normally, converting everything from the filming setup back to their normal living space. Margaret was no doubt still napping in his room, but instead of going there to join her just yet, he made his way to Brady’s instead. His lips quirked into a small smile automatically as he knocked twice, before letting himself in. His eyes immediately fell on Brady, and it took nothing for him to already made his way over to him. “Hey,” he said simply, gaze softening as he saw him with the joint in his hand. “Mind if I hang out?”

Brady cracked open his window before bringing his lighter over to his bed. He could hear Forest and Maisie still there, and he didn’t think much about it. He knew Max would come here later. After he’d lit the joint and set the lighter down and lay there for a few minutes, he heard their friends start to head out. And sure enough, just another few minutes later, two knocks on his door preceded Max coming into his room. Brady smiled a bit, but then shrugged. “I dunno. I might,” he said, following Max’s gaze to the lit joint in his hand. “Kinda expecting someone.” He brought it up to his lips to take a hit, then pushed himself to sit up and look at Max again. He spoke as he exhaled, the smoke surrounding his words: “Waiting for my boyfriend to come smoke with me.” The slight smile remained on his face for a moment, and then he shrugged once again, and he held it out in Max’s direction for him to take. “I don’t think he’ll mind.”

Hearing Brady openly call him his boyfriend, even when it was just them, still affected him as strongly as the first time he'd admitted that's what he'd wanted. The smile didn't seem to want to fade as he took the opportunity to finish crossing the distance. "Oh yeah? Seems kind of like a jerk leaving you waiting for so long." Max lowered himself onto the bed, easily sliding himself up to sit with him, facing him as he reached his hand out to take the joint that was offered to him, fingers brushing against Brady's. He slowly withdrew it to bring it to his lips, taking a long hit off of the joint, letting the smoke billow around him in an exhale as he handed it back, shifting a bit to make himself comfortable. "I don't know, he might." He teased. "I might get too high and try something."

“Yeah. He is kind of a jerk.” Brady watched Max take it from him and bring it to his lips, nearly mesmerized by the sight even if he’d seen it countless times before. “Doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.” He hadn’t forgotten what Max had said, of course. Wasn’t sure how he could. And Max knew what he’d done. Brady hummed at Max’s comment, nodding as if he were thinking on it. “Yeah?” It was nice to joke about it, to be comfortable with it. It always was. And Brady knew it would be, allowing him to get through the whole time they had to hide it. “Guess I’m gonna have to get you pretty high then,” he teased right back. He lay back again, stretching his legs over Max’s lap and lifting his arms up behind his head. “You did say you wanted to film something later.” He shook his head. “Dumbass.”

"Oh, huh, sounds like he just has lots of interesting things to say." Joking with Brady had always been easy, something that had not changed even as their relationship shifted into something else entirely. Max felt light; comfortable as Brady lifted his legs to rest them on his lap, and one of his arms came to rest over them, hand resting on his calf as he looked at him like he didn't know what he was talking about. Which he absolutely did. "And how do you know I wasn't just speaking to the fans?" It wasn't a second until he dropped the act, other hand coming to rest on his knee absentmindedly, fingers playing at the fabric of his pants. His grin was back in full force. "Knew that got your attention. Sounds like you liked the idea, so who's the dumbass now?"

“Because I’m not fucking clueless.” And, like, the very direct and obvious eye contact. But mostly the first part. Brady held his hand out for the joint again and Max passed it back to him. He rolled his eyes as Max spoke, dropping his head back and holding his breath for a moment before letting it out, watching it rise above him. “You,” he said without thinking, a firm nod of his head just for good measure. “You’re still the dumbass.” He was the one who’d said it in front of their friends, and on camera, after all. He was surprisingly able to let it go, though, instead spending the next... he didn’t even know how long just relaxing there with Max, passing the joint back and forth, which happened to be one of his favorite activities. He’d put on music as well. Then, Brady wasn’t sure exactly how it’d gotten here, but at some point he was getting up from the bed with a laugh to pull his shirt up over his head and throw it to the floor because he was suddenly too hot. Not that he expected Max to care in the slightest. When he turned back to where the blond was on his bed, Brady couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Dude, you are stoned,” he pointed out, as if it weren’t obvious, but seeing the look in Max’s eyes made it even more so. And not that he didn’t look exactly the same, but still. He slid back onto the bed, this time staying sitting straight up and getting a little closer, his body fully relaxed as his arm pressed against Max’s. “Gonna try something or what?” he asked lowly, red rimmed eyes flicking down to Max’s lips. “Might get lucky.”

Max couldn't say how long they spent just continuing on joking, passing the joint back and fourth as music played faintly in the background. He was completely relaxed, until it turned into him getting.... really fucking high. His eyes burned, but in a way he definitely didn't mind because the rest of him felt relaxed and content. He was sprawled out with his legs stretched out in front of him, hands resting on the bed below him as he leaned back a bit - having changed positions at some point. And then he was just lazily watching Brady strip off his shirt, eyes trailing down his torso as his jaw dropped open a bit, eyes dazed. "Me?" He echoed, words slightly delayed, because Brady was clearly correct. "'M not that bad," he grinned, expression lazy as the other moved back to the bed with him. Max straightened up a bit as Brady situated himself behind him, and immediately he turned his attention onto the figure beside him. "Dunno. What's your boyfriend gonna think?" Words were quiet as he leaned his head in towards his, the smell of weed permeating through the air making everything seem delightfully hazy. Max's gaze met eyes that were clearly just as stoned as his own. But neither of them cared. He smiled again, faintly, as his attention was pulled to his lips. And fuck he'd been thinking about kissing him all day, and now he got to. "Fuck it anyway, I guess," he teased, leaning in not nearly as coordinated as he usually was (and even then, it wasn't by much). His nose bumped a bit against Brady's, and he huffed up a small laugh before all too slowly brushing their lips together. He didn't rush it, not this time - instead taking his time like this was the first time he'd ever kissed him, or something.

A comment about how his boyfriend didn’t seem to mind died in his throat as Max closed the small distance between them. It was slow, taking a moment even for their lips to touch, but Brady didn’t care. It seemed better that way, almost. All other thoughts had slipped away and he was focused on nothing but the boy in front of him, the way it felt to touch him and call him his. The music still playing and the familiar way Max smelled mixed with the weed made Brady relax even further. He brought a hand up to Max’s shoulder and slid it slowly down his arm as he leaned in closer, trying to kiss him deeper. There was a small noise of pure content from the back of his throat, and only then did Brady pull away again. He’d set what was left of the joint down a bit ago with the intent to go back to it later, but he supposed later was now, because he reached over to his desk to retrieve it with his lighter. Once he lit it up again, he tossed his lighter back on the desk, brought the joint to his lips and inhaled deeply. He slid both arms around Max’s shoulders, pulling him in close and pressing their lips together before exhaling. It was the first time he’d shotgunned like that with him, but goddamn if it didn’t instantly drive him crazy. His free hand went to Max’s hair, curling in it tightly to keep him close and kiss him hard. The smoke was between them and Brady’s senses were overwhelmed. While all of his muscles felt loose, he wanted desperately to be closer to him. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Max had gotten this high together, and he was most certainly feeling the effects. “My boyfriend,” he finally said against his lips, as if his brain was just now catching up to the earlier conversation, ”loves this.” He tugged his hair just slightly, leaning back so Brady could look at him, take in just how fucking gorgeous Max was. Brady licked his lips. “Right?” And he brought his other hand around to hold the joint up to Max’s lips himself.

Little shockwaves rolled down his skin as Brady's mouth moved against his; the kiss deepening as they sat there together. Max pressed himself closer, already addicted to Brady's hand on his skin and the moan that he could feel against his own mouth. Once the kiss was over, he didn't move away, instead opening his eyes to gaze at him half-lidded as he grabbed the joint and lighter again. Max didn't think twice about his eyes following him; studying him like it was the most natural thing in the world. The profile of his face, the way his hands lifted and lit the joint, how he looked holding it between his lips. His chest constricted and they were some of the same fucking things he noticed when he wasn't high, but it was all Max could think about right now. He was. So when he decided to pull him in, he didn't think twice about leaning in toward it. Their lips were pressed together once more, and this time Max's lips automatically parted. He could feel the smoke billow into his mouth, and his heart pounded as he slowly inhaled, consumed with the smoke and Brady and the way the music was playing rhythmically around them. It was his turn to let out a small moan of encouragement. The hand tangling in his hair didn’t help matters, so familiar yet somehow even hitting him even harder than it usually did. The whole action had an effect on him immediately, his thoughts racing although he couldn't seem to hang on to a single one.

"Fuck," he said softly. It was unreal at how hot that was, and Max's eyes dropped to his mouth as his tongue flicked at his bottom lip, still tasting the smoke and Brady. A shiver rolled down his spine as his hair was pulled back, and he lifted his eyes back to his, and he was already starting to grow hard. "Yeah." It was a quiet whisper, something he wasn't even sure he said - too distracted by Brady bringing the joint to his lips. Max held eye contact with him as he leaned in, taking a hit off of the joint he was holding for him. He let it linger as he let the smoke fill his lungs, everything overwhelming him in the best possible way. Smoking with Brady had never quite been like this. It was intimate; time slowed down. He decided he liked it. A lot. Max couldn't seem to stop looking at him; stop watching him as he let the smoke billow from his mouth slowly, floating between them. His hands came up to rest on his waist, fingers trailing over his skin because he couldn’t help himself. "Think you do too." He finally dropped his gaze back down to Brady’s lips, and it was clear where his mind was. His lips lifted into another slow smile. “Kiss me again.”

It was hypnotizing, seeing the joint Brady held for him between Max’s lips while he held his gaze. Brady had never done anything like this before. Usually at this point they would put on a movie, maybe fuck around and laugh at things, but this felt different. Brady wanted him. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, obviously, but coupled with feeling like he could melt into the mattress at any moment, it was kinda blowing his mind. He zoned out a bit, sitting there staring at Max and barely registering the smoke he’d exhaled now rising to the ceiling. Brady’s mouth hung open slightly as he gawked at him. But then Max spoke, and shit, Brady didn’t have to be told twice. He broke free from his trance and let go of Max’s hair so he could lick his fingers to pinch the end of the joint and put it out again. Once he was sure it was, he put it back on the desk, and then turned once again to Max.

Brady was up on his knees, staring down at Max sitting back on his bed, and Brady hardly even noticed when a soft “Fuck” fell from his lips, just as Max had done a few moments ago. Word of the hour, Brady thought. His brain couldn’t quite articulate anything else at the moment. He was gazing down through a figurative and literal haze at his boyfriend waiting for Brady to kiss him, and it was so wildly hot, of course Brady had to comply. Brady leaned over him slightly, arms falling to the mattress on either side of Max’s body. He took another moment just to look at his face before kissing him again, once again slowly and deep. Brady leaned forward even further, urging Max to lie back, and Brady focused on holding himself up to keep from just collapsing on top of him. His hips naturally pressed down against Max’s and he could feel that Max had already started to get hard, and Brady wasn’t far behind. But it caused him to groan, and he tore away from him to sit up quickly and reach for his shirt. “I wanna touch you,” he said quietly, pulling at the shirt and with it, Max. And he did. He wanted to lie there with him, feel Max’s skin against his, and just kiss him while they both felt like they were fuckin’ floating. “Take this off.”

Max couldn't get enough of touching him normally let alone now, when everything seemed to slow down and he was noticing every little thing about Brady. He wanted to press himself closer; touch the skin he'd seen and touched and kissed a countless times before. But each time he was still just as into it; into him. Max's mouth moved against his just as slowly; deepening the kiss like he wanted to disappear into him. His hands slid around to his back as he guided him back on the bed, and he automatically lowered himself onto the mattress, groaning himself as their hips pressed together. Everything felt so much more intense in a way he couldn't describe, and he looked up at him as his hands explored the dips and muscles in his back, eyes trailing over his body until he heard Brady's quiet words. As though he was just realizing it was on to begin with, Max stretched up, swallowing as he lifted his shirt over his head and tossed it on the ground behind him, somewhere on the floor. He then fell back onto the mattress, bouncing a little as he wrapped his arm around the back of Brady's shoulders, tugging him closer. He wanted to feel their skin pressed together; wanted to touch him just as much. He didn't waste time before pressing his lips to Brady's skin once more, but this time they found his neck instead, mouth carefully brushing over his skin - his focus entirely on just what it felt like to touch him.

Brady helped him pull his shirt over his head and then Max tossed it aside, and Brady was met with the sight of him below him, once again waiting for Brady to lean down and kiss him again. Max’s arms looped around his shoulders and his lips found Brady’s neck, and Brady’s eyes slipped shut as he sighed at the sensations. He wedged his own hands under Max’s body to wrap around him, essentially hugging him from their position on the bed, and fuck, it felt good just to hold him like that. They were chest to chest, Brady’s nose nuzzling in Max’s hair as the blond kissed his neck. Part of Brady never wanted this to end, the slow kissing, but the other part of him was turned on and now really wanted Max. That part eventually won.

Brady pushed himself up just a bit, only to come face to face again and kiss him quickly. Then he sat up, straddling Max’s waist, and got a little dizzy for a moment; clearly he’d sat up too fast, and his brain was already foggy as hell. But he didn’t care. He reached for Max’s jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, but not moving to pull them off quite yet. Instead, he bent down to kiss Max’s neck now. His hands traveled just below, sliding down Max’s chest slowly as Brady kissed along his collarbone, down to his chest as well. Then Brady shifted to one side, lying beside Max on the bed so he could slide one arm behind him again. The other remained on his stomach and Brady continued its path, all the way beneath his jeans so he could palm him over his boxers. He watched Max’s face as he did, waiting for his reaction, then ducked his head down to kiss the skin of his chest again. Brady swiped his tongue over one of his nipples, and moved his hand over him slowly at the same time, rubbing him through the fabric. He was intoxicated by him, always was, acting on the pure desire to make Max feel good. He licked again, slower this time, and then lifted his head to watch Max’s face again. “Okay?” he asked, because he could just never be too sure, even if it was far from the first time his lips and tongue and hands had been all over him like this.

Max had no complaints as Brady lifted himself up to straddle his waist, except for maybe that there was a brief loss of contact. But it was only for a moment, as soon Brady’s hand was undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. The lips at his collarbone caused his eyes to fall shut; his own hands exploring Brady’s skin. His head turned to the side automatically to face him as Brady fell to lay next to him instead. And seeing him there while his hand wedged itself into his open jeans was unbelievably fucking hot. His attention was pulled to that for a moment, hips shifting under the ministrations. But pretty soon his gaze was back on Brady, eyes focused in on him as he leaned down towards his chest, and immediately a soft moan escaped him as he felt his tongue swiping over his skin. His body shifted against the bed, back pressing against Brady's arm as his head fully turned to watch his face. “It’s good.” His words were murmured as though he just remembered how to speak as he shifted his body on the mattress, hand coming out to smooth down Brady's torso, eyes following the movements. The hand pressing over his boxers along with Brady's mouth was driving him insane already. His hand was moving as though it had a mind of it's own, guiding down to the front of Brady's own pants. His eyes rolled back to lock with his as he popped up the button, much like he did to him. There was heat behind his gaze, and there was no denying he was completely into this. Instead of teasing over the front of his boxers, Max instead smoothed his hand down his abdomen, fingers just barely dipping under the fabric of them and his jeans. But he didn't touch him further yet, fixated momentarily on how he was looking at him and the way he was touching him right now. "This good for you?"

A nod was all Brady could really muster for a lot of different reasons. He was still really fucking high, trying to keep his focus on what he was doing, and now he was distracted by the heat of Max’s hand dragging down his skin. He tried to watch Max’s hand and when he finally touched him, Brady sighed, breath ghosting over Max’s neck. He looked up to Max’s face again, and at that point they were just looking at each other, watching each other’s expressions with their hands on each other, and Brady felt strangely close to him in that moment. Even though it wasn’t exactly what he’d call romantic, it was a weird reminder for Brady of the trust between them. But then...maybe he was just getting into his usual drug-induced philosophy mode. He supposed he didn’t really care, because it still made him feel all fuckin’ warm.

Brady broke the eye contact so he could look down and see what he was doing, since his brain was really doing him no good and he didn’t want to fumble around. He pushed Max’s underwear down a bit, as much as he could from where he was, so he could wrap his hand around him instead. He started to stroke him, a little quicker than before, urged on by the feeling of Max’s hand on his own cock. Brady pressed his lips against Max’s cheek, the kiss clumsy and a little sloppy, but he was pretty sure neither of them really cared. He didn’t pull away quite yet, breathing him in as the arm around him tightened. He didn’t know how long they had been here already, and Brady knew his grasp on reality was just a little bit skewed at the moment, but it felt like a while — though he didn’t want to stop. Although there was a small part of him remembering they were still half dressed. He didn’t slow his movements, but he did glance down and bite his bottom lip. “You wanna take those off?” he asked. Because frankly, he didn’t care either way. He’d never felt so close and loose-limbed with him like this before, had never wanted so badly just to stay right where he was and touch him just like this. The rest of it was hardly a concern.

The way Brady was looking at him, the way his breath brushed over his skin, the feeling of their hands on each other - it was all overwhelming to Max at that moment. All he wanted was to be impossibly close; to touch him in any way he could. His brain and body were relaxed and in overdrive all at once, and it wasn't something he'd particularly experienced before. Max had been stoned before, but he'd never wanted to touch someone so badly while he was as he did now. Max's hand continued to stroke him, varying in speed and pressure, paying attention to what Brady liked the most. A small sound of agreement was audible at Brady's question, and he leaned in to capture his lips in a desperate kiss, reluctantly releasing Brady's cock. He withdrew his hand to his own jeans, still making eye contact with his boyfriend, and looped his fingers under the fabric of his jeans and underwear, in the process nudging Brady's hand away. He arched his hips up on the bed as he worked the fabric down his legs, kicking it off the rest of the way. Instead of immediately going back to the position they were in, Max took in the sight of him laying there, and he was continuously struck by how beautiful he was; how much he wanted to touch him - in innocent and not so innocent ways. Right now in particular, his need to do the latter outweighed the former. Max slowly sat up, moving into a sitting position. Though that didn't stop him from stretching down, pressing his lips to the skin of Brady's chest, leading opened mouthed kisses down his torso as far as he could reach. Max lifted his head, gaze unfocused and filled with desire for his boyfriend. One of his hands dipped down under Brady's jeans again, fingers curling around his cock for a few brief moments, stroking him again before letting go. His hand instead slid up to the waist band, giving the fabric a harsh tug downwards as his lips quirked up in a half smile. "Can't touch you anymore if these aren't off either."

Brady had that same sort of hypnotized look on his face as before when he looked down at Max now tugging on his pants. It took him a second to register, but once he caught back up, Brady mirrored what Max had just done, lifting his hips up off the mattress to wiggle out of his jeans and underwear and discard them on the floor with the rest of their clothes. Then it was just the two of them again, nothing between them, just looking at each other. Brady couldn’t help but bring a hand down to Max’s cheek. He held it there, rubbing his thumb gently over the skin, admiring him in a way he used to be afraid to. “I know I’m high,” Brady blurted, “but I don’t think you’ve ever looked hotter.” His red eyes, flushed cheeks, his lips, the way he sat there looking at him as they both simmered in the anticipation — it was a lot for Brady to take in. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was clear now how hard Brady was, and Max was just inches away from his cock now that his pants were off. Brady still had a hand on his cheek and he moved it toward the back of Max’s head just slightly. Not enough to actually move or urge him yet, but... a hint, mostly. “They’re off now,” Brady noted with a quick glance down to the floor, where all of their clothes were now lying. He looked back at Max, his free arm holding himself slightly upright, and smirked down at him. “Your move.”

As Max situated himself over Brady's legs, he leaned into the hand that caressed his cheek, looking at him for the billionth time that night like he'd never seen him before. He moved his head slightly to place a lingering kiss to his palm while it was still there, hands raising to rest against Brady’s thighs. “Wish you could see yourself, too,” his tone was slightly raspy, and God, from this angle Max’s desire from him grew even further. "Freaking... unbelievable." He drug his hands up his thighs to grasp at his hips, and he couldn’t think of anything else to say, because he was too focused on wanting to get his mouth on every inch of him. Brady's words only served as encouragement; the familiar hand on his head making his whole body feel hot already. He dipped his head down to press his lips over Brady's left thigh, tongue brushing over his skin. He trailed kisses to his inner thigh before lifting his head just slightly, breath ghosting over Brady's cock for just a brief moment before even his weed-addled brain told him enough was enough. Max slid him into his mouth inch by inch, one hand dropping to pull one of his legs closer to him while the other dropped between them. His eyes were hazy as he looked up at him, fingertips ghosting along the base of his cock and grazing his balls, until his palm cupped them, squeezing. He continued moving his mouth over him at a steady pace, completely focused on how he felt under his tongue. A few moments passed before his hand moved to grasp the base of his cock instead, inching him deeper into his mouth, wanting to make the most of how good every single thing felt.

Brady felt like they were moving in slow motion, like time and the world around them had slowed down — yet he still didn’t really have time to process before Max’s mouth was on him. It was like Brady didn’t even know what it felt like. His head dropped back and he didn’t even bother to suppress the moan that followed; they were home alone, after all. Or he thought he remembered they were. He didn’t really care at this point, regardless. His hand had traveled to Max’s neck and now threaded gently through his hair. Brady was absolutely overwhelmed by the feeling of Max taking him in deeper, and he showed it by moaning again. Completely fuckin’ shameless, which was typical, really, but the weed was certainly helping. And Brady had been smoking for years — had spent a few times on an especially strong high, and had slept with Max after smoking or drinking a little, of course they had. But never had it been such an intense physical thing for Brady. Max had that effect on him, and always had; he made Brady feel things for the first time and experience familiar things in an entirely different way.

Brady lifted his hips off the bed a bit, meeting Max’s mouth, matching the rhythm of the slide of his lips over Brady’s cock. He felt it through his entire body. He was still propping himself up on one arm while the other hand fisted a little tighter in Max’s hair. Brady made himself look down again, watching him and the way his own hips raised desperately to feel more of it. “Jesus, Max,” he breathed, shaking his head in near disbelief. He didn’t know why he was driving him so insane. Well, he did know; it was Max, he always drove him insane. But Brady felt especially out of control tonight. He eventually let his head drop back again, and he relaxed so he could lie back and look at the ceiling instead. Looking at Max with his dick in his mouth was almost too much right now. Now both of Brady’s hands were in Max’s hair and he continued to roll his hips up into his mouth. But he let out another strangled sort of groan and stilled, though his hands continued to clutch at the blond hair below him. “You gotta stop,” Brady said quietly, his voice lower than he expected it to be. He gave Max’s hair a tug, urging him away, and for good measure added, “Now.”

Those hands tightening in his hair caused chills to roll down his spine every fucking time, the way he tugged at his hair every time something felt good always made Max fill dizzy. Only tonight it was amplified, his own cock unbelievably hard at this point, completely immersed in the way Brady sounded and looked. He relaxed his throat as he rolled up into his mouth, a choked moan vibrating around him in the process. His hands had drifted back to his thighs, gripping onto them tightly as he only used his mouth. His eyes would glance back up at him, and his heart was beating so rapidly in his chest, his stomach fucking tightening at the sight of him. It seemed like no time and all the time had passed when Brady yanked his head back. "Why?" Max's voice was hoarse; his gaze half-lidded as his tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and he could still taste him. "You gonna come?" His head had been tugged back, and he respected the request as he didn't lean back in to wrap his mouth back around him like he wanted to do. Instead, Max's hands continued to travel up his thighs, one of his palms brushing over his cock teasingly, until they reached his stomach. Both hands smoothed up Brady's chest, his own body moving so he could do so, and he moved to straddle his waist. "Maybe that's what I want." His eyes were still fixated on his before he stretched down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He leaned back just a bit so he could reach his hand back, so near Brady's dick again. "Sure you want me to stop?"

Brady was so beyond used to fondly rolling his eyes and telling Max to shut up at this point, that likely would have been the response in another situation. But his brain was so clouded by both not being sober and his own ridiculous arousal that that’s not what he did at all. Instead, his hand reached down for Max’s, catching his wrist before he could touch him again. Something about Max’s teasing, holding that over his head was unbearably hot, but it triggered something in Brady. His need to not be the only one trying to hold himself together. “I said stop.” Of course he knew Max wasn’t actually going to push him or overstep what Brady had asked. But he also knew that Max was playing a game here, and well, two could play. Brady held his gaze while he moved Max’s hand away, slowly and deliberately, just to be very clear that was what he was doing. Then he rested the hand on Max’s hip, the other sliding up his back, urging him to come back down again. His hand had reached the back of Max’s neck by the time their lips met again. His fingertips simultaneously pressed against the skin of Max’s hip and the back of his neck, just enough to hold him close in both places at once. But then the hand on Max’s neck came to rest on his other hip instead. Brady broke the kiss so he could urge Max to move, pushing him back into the bed and immediately climbing on top of him. He did what Max had just been doing, straddling his hips. Brady ground his hips down against him, Max’s cock rubbing against his own, and Brady leaned over him with one hand on the mattress beside Max’s head. “Then I wouldn’t be able to fuck you.” Brady looked down and reached a hand between them, wrapping around both of their dicks together. But he didn’t move it, instead rocking his hips forward again slowly. “And that’s what I want.” He brought his gaze up to meet Max’s. “Did you want something different?”

He stilled his hand immediately as Brady grabbed his hand and told him to stop again, eyes still locked with his. His lips quirked into a brief smile despite how worked up he was already, skin breaking out in goosebumps as he felt his hands travel up his body, and his eyes traced his movements. Max's brain went quiet, and fuck, it was like Brady had never touched him before because his body felt hyper-focused on every single touch. Max kissed him back, deepening it automatically as Brady held him there. He was taken in by the actions, previous teasing now forgotten when he was guided to lay against the mattress himself. And now Brady was on top of him, their cocks brushing together every time he rocked his hips, and a low moan escaped him as his hands came to settle on Brady’s hips. Max couldn’t stop fucking looking at him, like he was mesmerized by everything he did - and maybe he was. He really couldn’t bring himself to care, and he swallowed another moan before shaking his head. “Gonna drive me fuckin’ crazy, Brady,” he managed to say. “You know that’s what I want.” His eyes fell between them, and his hips lifted up as Brady rocked against him, and a shock of pleasure momentarily distracted him. He rolled his head back against the bed to gaze up at him, fingers digging into his hips as he studied his face, his lips --- the way he was moving. “Or we could do it just like this.” His voice lowered, feeling hoarse. “With you right here. Riding me,” he rolled his hips up again, hands sliding to Brady's waist instead. “Just fucking want you. Whatever you want.” Max just wanted to keep touching him; wanted to feel impossibly closer as though they didn’t already did this on the regular. "Don't think I'm ever gonna get sick of lookin' at you."

Knowing he was driving Max crazy always spurred Brady on, even if he knew it, in theory. He still liked to hear it. Everything Max said was turning him on, actually. Plus, his hands on Brady’s waist caused him to keep moving, keep grinding against him with his hand wedged between them to touch the both of them. Max’s second suggestion rang in Brady’s ears and he couldn’t decide at this point which idea he liked better. He sighed as he thought it over, ducking down to mouth at Max’s neck. Still, his brain wasn’t really working. He couldn’t really think of anything beyond Max and how he currently felt beneath him. “Or,” Brady said, lips still on Max’s neck, “we could do both.” His heart was pounding in his chest. He was rocking his hips steadily now, rubbing against Max with every movement, painfully aware of how hard both of them were (and how close he’d just been a few minutes ago). “Would you like that?” Brady’s hand on the mattress twisted in the sheet below him as he picked up his head to look at his boyfriend. His skin felt hot all over. “You want me to ride you and then fuck you?”

The thought of it alone was driving him even more insane, and Brady dropped down to his elbow instead of his hand to hold him up. He caught Max’s lips in a quick kiss, moaning as he did. And Jesus, he’d have to stop again soon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten so goddamn worked up so quickly. But at first he just slowed down, moving against him with much less desperation. He dragged his lips over Max’s skin and to his ear, catching his earlobe between his teeth for a moment. Then he finally pried himself away, reluctantly as all hell, because there were more important matters to attend to now. Like getting the lube and holding it out toward Max with a raise of his eyebrows. “You wanna do the honors?” he asked, and then instantly broke into a giggle at the way it came out. Jesus, Brady was swaying a little where he sat up. To be so high and so turned on. But he didn’t think much more about it, sliding back down next to Max on the bed and leaning over to kiss him, holding his jaw to angle it toward him.

Max’s mind just about shut down with that suggestion, like that thought had not even occurred to him, and it hadn't. He suddenly forgot how to breathe, Brady's kisses to his neck combined with those damn words turning him on more than he even thought possible. Having him slowly grind on top of him was completely overwhelming in the fucking best way, and his arms snaked around his waist to pull him tighter against him. Thinking about it had another groan falling from his lips before he managed to speak. "Fuck. Yeah." He breathed, pupils blown and looking right into Brady's own eyes as their hips rocked together, and it was all so mind blowingly consuming. "Yeah, I'd like that." Complete and utter understatement, but his brain couldn’t think, wouldn’t be able to think with how Brady looked right now even if they weren’t both high out of their minds. Brady’s teeth pulling at his earlobe caused another moan, mindlessly arching his body up to press further against his. And then just a few moments later Brady was to the side of him and reaching for the lube to pass it to him. Max wordlessly propped himself up on his elbow, just as uncoordinated as his boyfriend was at that moment, but he did not let that get in his way as he popped the cap of the lube open with his thumb. All he could focus on what was about to happen, on how much he wanted Brady pressed against him again.

Max sat up for a moment to spread the lube onto his fingers, before he set the bottle to the side and moved back to his previous position, head facing Brady’s. His eyes trailed down his body as his fingers trailed over his cock again, drifting downwards until they pressed against his entrance. He dipped his head to press his lips against his shoulder, leaving a series of open-mouthed kisses up to his neck as he carefully pressed his finger further into him — one, and then once he was relaxed enough, another. Max heart wouldn’t settle in his chest as he met his lips in an immediately desperate kiss. He only stopped to lean his head back slightly, watching his face for any discomfort. His voice didn’t feel like his own as he spoke, still hoarse and slow. He wanted him. In any fucking way. And right now it felt like he was addicted to everything. “Good?”

As familiar as it was at this point for Brady to feel Max touch him like this, it still kind of made him feel a little exposed, lying there on the bed with his legs open like that. It was just that now, he didn’t really care about feeling exposed. In fact, he liked the way it felt; it was a part of him only Max had ever gotten to see and feel, and for Brady that meant a lot more than he was usually able to voice to him. He hoped Max knew. Though maybe he really should just speak up on shit more. Now wasn’t the time for it, though. Brady’s mind was downright useless, his brain a puddle as all he could do right now was moan and try to control his breathing. ”Yeah,” he replied, too abruptly, maybe, but fuck if he cared. He was turned on as all hell, watching his fine ass boyfriend get him ready with the promise of Brady returning the favor later on, so sue him if he was a little enthusiastic at the moment. Plus, he didn’t want Philosophical High Brady to have any time to make a comeback in his head right now. All he wanted to think about was Max. And his dick. It hadn’t been difficult at all for Brady to relax, and soon he was nudging Max’s hand away, leaning up a bit to kiss him again.

Then Brady went to the side table again to fish out two condoms (one for later — his stomach twisted) as Max lay back on the bed again. Brady straddled Max’s thighs and tore open one of them, reaching down to roll it onto him. Fuck, Brady could physically feel the anticipation pulsing through his entire body. He licked his lips as he looked up at Max, finally moving to settle over him, one hand still reaching between them to guide Max inside of him. He slowly lowered himself onto his cock, half-sighing half-moaning as he did. Brady loved seeing Max’s face at this exact moment, but right now it was like he’d never seen it before. He stayed still for a few moments, adjusting to the feeling, letting his hands run slowly over Max’s stomach and chest. Brady let his hands stay there on his chest, a support as he started to move against him. It was a mirror of his action just a few minutes ago, grinding against him, and god, was Brady glad Max had suggested this. All of his senses were particularly overwhelmed. Brady couldn’t tell if it was because of the weed or just because it was Max. “This okay?” he asked breathlessly, even if he knew the answer damn well. It certainly would never hurt to ask.

Max couldn't seem to get his mind to settle down when it came to him, which shouldn't have been surprising, considering he was never able to really stop ever since they started all those months ago. Seeing Brady now, moaning under his touch as he stretched him carefully, and him laid out like this was an all powerful reminder this was his boyfriend. That he didn't have to hide how much he was completely fucking into him; into every sound and move he made. He'd never done such a good job at hiding how much he liked that, anyway. His brain completely stopped thinking the moment Brady climbed back on top of him only to roll the condom onto him himself, and fuck if that wasn't one of the hottest images ever, that is until Brady slowly lowered himself down on his cock, and the sight of it completely beat everything else. A sharp sigh pulled from his lips as Brady's hips rocked just like earlier, but now more intense than ever. He felt so perfect and Max's eyes felt so heavy; not sure if he was more intoxicated by this or all the damn weed. "More than okay. You kidding me?" His voice was strained as his head knocked back against the mattress, and he couldn't bring himself to feign a laugh, tone completely taken over by his desire for this guy. Brady's hands burned against his skin, and he was already so overwhelmed with this alone, he didn't know how it'd feel later. With him fucking him after this. Jesus.

The thought of it combined with the overwhelming sensation of Brady wrapped around him had Max's hips rocking up and into him, eyes fixed on his face. "So hot." The words were breathless, and he stilled his hips until Brady was ready for more. When it was clear he was, he rolled his hips up into him again, hands steadying at his hips tightly, before one let go to slide up Brady's chest, drifting until it wound around his neck. He tugged him down towards him for a kiss as they moved together, his other hand still pressing tightly against Brady's hip. He couldn't decide if he wanted to keep watching him or keep kissing him or keep touching him, because he somehow wanted to do everything at once. "Love being inside you like this." He murmured against his lips before breaking apart, looking at him for the hundredth million time. Max was so turned on by him; already wound tight. His fingers shifted into his hair, combing the hair back. "Can't wait 'till you fuck me, too." Words were punctuated by another roll of his hips; another moan. "You feel so good."

Brady sort of whined as Max moved with him, meeting Brady’s own movements to press deeper inside of him. To think there was a time in his life he’d never considered doing this, and now, with Max, he couldn’t seem to get enough. Brady’s hands moved from Max’s chest to beside his head on the mattress. When Max pulled him down by the back of his neck, Brady bent down to his elbows instead. The angle was different but easier to roll his hips down to meet Max’s thrusts, and Brady moaned shamelessly against his lips. He let Max’s words wash over him once he’d broken the kiss, and Brady sighed as his eyes fell shut. ”God, I... I can’t wait to fuck you,” he simply repeated, for lack of any better response his brain could possibly manage right now. And it was true, the anticipation was making him nearly shake, but he was also enjoying every single moment now with Max fucking him instead. He reopened his eyes to look at him again. “So good,” he agreed breathlessly, as if he knew no other words than the ones Max was speaking to him just moments before. He pushed himself up on his hands again, sitting up only enough that he could look down between them, watching the hypnotizing way Max pulled out before pushing back into him. And it was like Brady had never seen it before. It exhilarated him in a way he could hardly place.

“Fuck, isn’t it...isn’t it weird?” he asked suddenly, picking his head back up to look at Max. He was still grinding against him, all too aware of the feeling of Max’s cock inside of him, but now his mind was wandering all the same. “How we can just, like. Be inside someone. Like this.” He sighed, sitting up even further to move his hands from the mattress up to hold onto the headboard instead. “And how it’s so fucking good.” Brady knew his philosophical pondering was better saved for another time, but he couldn’t help when curiosity struck him. It wasn’t even the most misplaced conversation they’d ever had during sex; at least it had to do with what was going on right now. Still, Brady pushed it aside, mostly because he was now astounded by the way he could move now that he was holding onto something more solid. The angle was achingly good and Brady rocked his hips in a quicker, steady rhythm. “Fuck. Max.” Brady licked his lips and brought one hand up to push his own hair back quickly, holding it there for a moment. “I want you to touch me,” he told him, his throat feeling dry as he spoke. Then he braced himself again, grinding his hips down hard to try to feel Max even deeper inside of him. ”Wanna get close again.” For the third time. Maybe he had a new thing.

All he could think about was how damn lucky he was; how fucking good every single thing was. Feeling Brady take him deeper and deeper while all the sounds he made filled his senses and made him feel like he was losing control. Another moan pulled from his lips as Brady sunk down onto him; taking him deeper and deeper, and he was going absolutely fucking crazy at the new angle. Max found it hard to breathe; completely focusing on the way his boyfriend rocked down onto him continuously and every look on his face. "So weird," he murmured in agreement, both hands falling now to hold onto both of his hips, eyes dropping to watch them move together, seeing himself slide in and out of Brady. Shit. He couldn’t imagine a world right now where they wouldn’t be able to do this. "Thank God someone figured out we could *do *this." His words were breathy as he spoke, not paying all that much attention to the conversation, because he couldn't care less about the first people who founded sex right now. He cared about Brady's words; his movements.

He guided his hips back down against his cock, wanting to get as close and as deep as he could as he rolled his hips up again. A light layer of sweat broke over his skin as he moved under him, and he didn't think twice at the request. One of his hands dropped to wrap around Brady's cock, his grip firm as he stroked him. The pace was slow at first, out of time with their bodies moving together. "Fuck. Like that?" Max licked his lips, and he could feel himself get closer and closer the more they continued this. He was quickly losing control, and Brady asking to get closer to had just about killed him. “Get closer from me. Wanna see it.” Max picked up the pace, stroking Brady's cock faster the closer he got himself. He couldn’t keep holding back, having Brady move on top of him was way too much. "Gonna make me come, fuck. Fuck.” A mix between a whine and a moan left him, and he dropped his head back on the mattress, and it wasn’t long before Max froze under him, mouth falling open as his eyes shut --- completely losing it under his touch. His hand froze on Brady momentarily, his other hand still gripping his hip as his own rolled up one last time, riding out the high without thought.

Brady had his eyes shut tight, simply trying to take it all in at once — the feeling of Max’s hand on his cock while he continued to fuck him, the way he sounded as he spoke to him, urging him on. He almost didn’t realize what Max said until he stopped, and Brady opened his eyes to look down at him just as Max’s head dropped back. Brady was mesmerized, looking at his face as he came, and it was so fucking hot to just watch him. Jesus. He brought his hands down to Max’s face when he came down, and Brady didn’t realize his mouth had been open until he consciously pressed his lips together. He may as well have been drooling, honestly. He bent down to kiss Max hard, his fingertips grazing the hair at the back of his head as he held his face. He pulled back after a moment to meet his gaze. “That was really fucking hot,” he breathed. “You. Are so fucking hot.” He would have liked to just stay there, kissing him and telling him how hot he was, but there was the issue with the condom, and also the fact that Brady was still so hard it almost hurt. And he’d said that he was going to fuck Max, so as long as that was what he still wanted... that was what Brady was going to do. He slowly moved off of him, sighing as Max slipped out of him. He sat back on the bed while Max took care of the condom, and when he came back Brady reached a hand out to touch his arm and pull him in for another kiss. Then he moved to kiss his cheek instead. “I still wanna fuck you,” he said quietly. “Is that okay?” Because of course he’d understand if it wasn’t, but when he got Max’s clear go ahead that it was still okay, Brady was more than happy to hear it.

Brady shifted on the mattress a bit to make space and told him, “On your stomach.” He waited while Max did so, and then settled behind him. Music was still playing. The air still smelled strongly of the weed they smoked what felt like ages ago despite the window being open. Brady was overwhelmed but determined — to do what he set out to do, and now to get Max to come again. Brady reached down to grab Max by the hips, coaxing him back a little further and to come up onto his knees just slightly. Brady needed a better angle. He didn’t know if Max knew what he was about to do, because he’d never done it before, and Max himself had only done it to him once. But Brady was really feeling the urge to try new things tonight. Especially now, wanting to make Max feel even better than he had before to get him hard and bring him over the edge again. Brady’s hands slid from Max’s waist to his ass. He shifted to get closer, his hands spreading him open, then he leaned down to tentatively swipe his tongue over him. Brady paused, unsure if this was good despite knowing it wasn’t fucking rocket science. He was just going to roll with it unless Max told him to stop. Brady licked again and again, his movements slow but still deliberate, intent on making this good for Max. His tongue circled Max’s hole, becoming less uncertain as he went. Though he did stop after a moment to pull back and ask, “Is this okay?” Usually asking was more of a double checking thing as Brady knew the answer, but now he honestly wanted to know if this was doing anything for Max. Not everyone’s cup of tea, or whatever.

Max’s body momentarily felt like jelly as he slowly came down from his high, brain still slow to process the fact that he’d just come too soon. But it was hard to feel anything but fucking amazing with the way Brady was looking at him and kissing him as his bones sunk into the mattress below them. He kissed him back, deeply, sighing into his mouth as his hand remained gripped around his cock. Everything nearly felt slow motion as they broke apart and Max got rid of the condom, letting his body fall back onto the bed afterwards with a hum under his breath. His head swam with how good he felt, but even still, the fact that Brady hadn’t come yet weighed heavily on his mind. He kissed him back, slow and deep, and his words hit him all at once. He didn’t forget that’s what he’d said what would happen. Not even remotely, but hearing them again hit him all at once. Fuck. His limbs felt like they were made of lead and he was still caught up in afterglow, but the idea of going again sent a chill throughout his body. He’d inhaled shakily and nodded before giving his verbal agreement; encouraging it despite how sensitive his body still felt. His eyes drug down Brady’s form, stricken by thoughts of making him feel just as good. Having him inside him right after Brady rode him. It continued to make his brain explode inside his head. Metaphorically speaking.

He swallowed and shifted to do what he’d instructed, rolling over his stomach, arms folded and forehead pressed against them, feeling short of breath as Brady guided him back by his hips. He shifted so that his knees were pressed against the mattress, and he didn’t realize what Brady was planning. Excitement pooled in his stomach at feeling his hands on him; the position vulnerable - and he thought that he was going to get him ready. It was thrilling not seeing him; not knowing what he was doing. He was honestly too zoned to really question it, body still humming after having just came, and his high ever present. And then Brady’s tongue swiped over him, causing a startled moan to catch in the back of his throat. His eyes shut as his head pressed further against his arm, back arching slightly at the swipe of his tongue. Brady had never done this to him before, and Max had only done it to him once before. The tongue brushing over him caused chills to prickle at his skin, and he sucked in a deep breath the more his boyfriend continued the ministrations. He felt his thighs tense, not of discomfort, but by being overloaded with one thing after another. He’d already come and part of him was still basking in it, but somehow Brady’s touch was making him hard again. And fuck if that wasn’t super hot. He was dizzy with it; overwhelmed in the best way. “Yeah, it’s okay,” his words were somewhat strangled; raspy to his ears. And it was more than okay. “It’s good. Fuck. Brady.” More then good. One of his hands curled into the sheets. “Feels good,” he spoke again, feeling like he was babbling as he lifted his head up somewhat; knees shifting on the bed to situate himself better, sighing as he continued. His body was simultaneously relaxed and keyed up and he wasn’t sure how that happened, but he liked it. Words kept coming out and he didn’t care to stop them. “You’re gettin’ me hard again.”

All Brady needed to hear was that Max was enjoying himself to get right back to it. He leaned down to continue what he was doing, his tongue moving mostly experimentally since he wasn’t totally sure what worked and what didn’t. But Max was tensing and gripping the sheets and telling Brady exactly what he wanted to hear, so he figured he must be doing something right. When he told him he was making him hard again, Brady couldn’t hold back his moan. His hands squeezed where they were on Max’s ass and he pulled back. “Yeah?” The thought of making him come a second time was unbelievably exciting. One of Brady’s hands slid down to let his finger trace where his tongue had just been a moment ago. He didn’t press inside him, not yet. Just teasing. “Gonna make you come again,” he told him. His voice was level and quiet, so Max understood that Brady was going to make sure of it. He got the lube again, more than ready to fuck him already but of course needing Max to be also. “You gonna make me come, Max?” He poured the lube onto his fingers and pressed his free hand against Max’s lower back to steady him. Brady has clearly already helped relax him a bit, so he pressed into him with one finger, and not long after was able to add a second. “I can’t wait.” And he really fucking couldn’t. He was already imagining fucking him after just having rode Max till he came, and it was making Brady dizzy. It was probably a combination of everything — Max being comfortable, loose-limbed, and also high — that allowed him to stay relaxed, and it wasn’t long before he was letting Brady know he was good to go. Brady really didn’t want to rush this because he was sure he wasn’t going to be able to last long at all once he got going; but then, he was desperate at this point to be inside him.

Still, he tried to take his time putting on the condom and settling behind Max. His hands dragged slowly over the body in front of him, touching everywhere he could reach from his ass up toward his shoulders. Brady licked his lips and reached down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock. He guided himself inside him, pushing in slowly, biting down on his bottom lip as he did. “Holy fuck, Max.” Brady truly didn’t imagine super stoned sex being so overwhelming. It was always incredible, obviously, when they had just smoked a little, but this time, looking down at the way Max was positioned on the bed as Brady’s cock slipped inside him, combined with the feeling of it made his breath catch in his throat. He stared in awe like he’d never done this before. Instead of immediately setting a pace, Brady leaned over him a bit so he could reach around and touch Max. He could feel that he wasn’t kidding; he was getting hard again. And all because of Brady. Brady ducked his head down to press his lips to Max’s skin. Then he straightened up again, hands finding Max’s waist. Brady ever so slowly pulled out before pressing into him again. Trying to be careful not to let this end so soon. He needed it, though; needed Max. Brady succumbed with a groan, moving at a faster pace to start fucking into him steadily. “You feel fucking incredible,” Brady said, his voice not quite as steady. He pressed his lips together as he continued to rock his hips into him. And he didn’t know what compelled him, but something about the atmosphere gave him the urge to raise a hand to slap Max’s ass. Not hard, just...noticeable. “Driving me fuckin’ crazy tonight.”

If the actions weren't enough to begin to get him hard again, Brady's words alone might have done it. The tease of a finger pressing against him in place of his tongue had a small whimper escaping the back of his throat, opening his mouth to say more. "Yeah, wanna make you come." Really fucking bad. And the idea of coming with him, again was overpoweringly hot. Max focused on the way his hands felt guiding down his body, and around to his cock, and another groan floated through the air. He couldn't believe he was getting hard so soon, and that he was just as worked up as he was before. Being high caused him to relax, but he also somehow zeroed in on every single thing, releasing a harsh breath as Brady began to push a finger inside him; slowly beginning to get him ready. "Fuck, Brady." His hips jerked, before stilling, exhaling harshly as his boyfriend added another finger. Before long, he was impatient for it. "Can't wait to feel you," the words of agreement came just before he heard the crinkle of the wrapper, his stomach twisted in anticipation. The hands sliding over his body and around to his cock made his skin burn hot, and it was unreal how much he wanted him, even still. It was like he wanted him even worse now that he'd already come; fueled by his desire to continue to be close in any way and to make him feel just as good as he'd felt. His cock grew harder; Brady's hand on him further encouraging him. He was already in a daze when he shifted to began to press into him, filling his senses as a broken sigh left his lips. “God. Yes.” His hands twisted further into the blankets as his back pushed upwards, words hanging in the air as his boyfriend began to slide out only to push all the way back in. And he swore his vision went black for a second with how amazingly good this was; how overwhelmed he felt still even if he’d already gotten off once. Having Brady inside him always felt amazing, but now everything seemed to be heightened for him.

His knees dug into the bed as he held himself up to meet Brady’s thrusts; the slap that Brady delivered to his ass caused a loud moan to leave him; startled at the motion though it wasn’t unwelcome. It sent a shock of pleasure down his spine; going straight to his dick. Jesus. It wasn’t hard, but that combined with Brady fucking him was enough to make him go crazy. “Do that again," he murmured, breathless as he shifted his hips backwards, suddenly wanting to feel him deeper. The whole room felt hazy still and the smell of weed still floated around them and it felt like a dream. He moaned again as he felt him slide in deeper, and now he was definitely hard again. "Drivin' me crazy, too. Feels so fucking good."

Brady’s fingers dug into the skin of Max’s hips, almost feeling like he was holding onto him for dear life — trying to keep himself together. But it became damn near impossible for him to do that when Max told him to slap him again. Brady’s brain short circuited for just a second. Then he recognized what he had asked for, and Brady complied, with a little bit more force this time. He never wanted to hurt him, obviously, but now that he knew Max was clearly into that, he was less cautious. And he was also getting close again, way too quickly. He’d known it was going to happen, though. There was no use trying to hold back anymore and he didn’t particularly want to at this point. “Max.” His voice was strangled, and it was clear what he was trying to tell him without even saying the words. Brady leaned over him again, his body draped over his boyfriend’s, his hands pressing on top of Max’s as well. He picked up his pace slightly and his heart was pounding so wildly in his chest he was pretty sure he could hear it. “Fuck, I’m–” He didn’t actually manage to get it out before he froze, his hands curling tightly around Max’s in the sheets as he came. Brady pressed his forehead against him, his breathing heavy and irregular as he rode it out. All of his muscles were tense and then relaxed all at once. He could probably collapse and pass out, but he also had other things to attend to. He kissed Max’s back once more before getting up to slowly pull out. He was still feeling all loose and warm but he was determined to do what he’d set out to do. He nudged Max’s hips again to coax him to roll over again. Once Max was on his back, Brady wasted no time. He leaned down to take him into his mouth, as much as he could all at once, with his hand wrapping around the rest. His mind was racing. Brady was already looking forward to cleaning up and just lying there with him, but more than that, he wanted Max to come for a second time.

Max had no concept of time tonight. He had no idea how long they’d been at this; just that they both clearly couldn’t get enough of it. His breath fell out harshly as Brady slapped him again, this time harder and somehow so good, and it only further making him absolutely lose his mind. Brady's thrusts only increasing from there on out. His cock brushed against the sheets below him, and he hadn’t even touched himself and he was so keyed up. The hands covering his only made this ten times hotter; he could hear and feel Brady getting close. And suddenly he wanted to see Brady so badly; wanted to watch him as he came. But he couldn’t turn his head all the way; couldn’t think to as he was fucking into him in just the right spot. Max’s mouth dropped open as he felt Brady freeze behind him; hands tightening over his own. “Come on, want you to come, want you to,” Max managed to get out, voice raspy as the other finally let go. He could picture how he looked; had seen it so many times. And fuck it was still the hottest thing in the world.

A long sigh rolled from his lips as he slid back onto him slightly; mind racing as he felt Brady ride out his orgasm. God it was so much; too much. And now he was painfully hard again himself. Max rolled over as he was guided, gaze heated and immediately falling on him, and he knew what Brady was going to do before he did it. Still, a loud groan escaped him as his mouth sunk over him, and Max’s hand rose to tangle in his hair as his eyes stayed fixated on his face. "Shit, you're so hot." The way he sounded as he came and how he felt fucking him still burned fresh in his mind, and it didn't take long before Brady was getting him closer and closer again. "Feels... incredible." He could barely speak as Max's hips rolled up, sliding further into his mouth, body tensing before long. “Brady. I’m gonna...” He tried to speak, but it was obvious by the way his body froze and his head knocked back against the bed what was happening. His fingers tightened in his hair, tugging as he began to come, and it was somehow even more overpowering than it was before. His chest heaved as he inhaled sharply, eyes shutting tightly as his boyfriend made him come for a fucking *second *time that night.

Brady’s hands held tightly to Max’s hips when the blond finally came again. Brady looked up at him as he shifted and struggled to catch his breath, all too aware of the hand tightening in his hair. Fuck, Brady could watch him do this a hundred times in a row and not get sick of it. If only. When Max relaxed again, Brady pulled away from him and swallowed, licking his lips and then wiping his mouth on his hand. Then he finally got rid of the condom. He couldn’t even describe how he felt as he crawled back onto the bed and completely collapsed beside Max. It was like he was floating but sinking all at the same time; his bones were heavy, but everything else was all airy, like a dream. He wasn’t going to be too high for much longer and the orgasm had definitely helped speed the relaxing process along. Now he slung his arm around Max’s waist, settling in close to his side and pressing his face against the side of his chest, and there was absolutely fucking nothing else he’d rather be doing.

“We’ve outdone ourselves this time, Maxy,” he said quietly, and then couldn’t help but giggle. It was true, though. He was going to be thinking about this for a while. Really, he always made it a point to file away these memories for later — the times where he could just be with Max, do anything and everything without fear of screwing up. And it was what got him through the times like they had a little earlier today, being extra cautious what they did around other people. In these moments, other people didn’t matter. After a while, Brady scooted up the bed a bit to get closer to Max’s face. He pressed his lips to Max’s cheek. “Should I do some ASMR for you to help you relax? Just ignore the music.” Difficult, when it was Cage the Elephant and Brady wanted to vibe. This was more important. He trailed his hand slowly up and down Max’s side. Then he leaned in close to Max’s ear. “Welcome to post-coitus ASMR,” Brady whispered, his lips touching his ear with each word. Then he lifted the arm that was around Max’s waist to bring his hand up right beside his ear as well. Brady rubbed his fingers together gently, not quite snapping but making enough of a sound that he had to bite back another laugh. “We’ll be doing close up ear sounds today.” He emphasized it by gently flicking Max’s ear, and then he couldn’t help but to laugh again. “Sorry. Did that hurt?”

Relaxation settled deep into his body as they situated themselves on the bed, and his chest rose and fell heavily as he tried to regain his composure again, arm sliding around Brady’s shoulders as he fell against his side. Max felt completely at peace; he almost felt like he couldn’t move anymore. Everything felt slow motion, but he wasn’t complaining. “No kidding.” His fingers absentmindedly rubbed his arm before his boyfriend spoke and moved up and closer to his face. His arm fell against the bed as he rolled his head to meet his eyes, a tired grin crossing his face. “Oh man. For free? Didn’t even have to sign up for your OnlyFans.” His words were fond as his expression was amused, though a sigh left him as he shut his eyes. Just listening to Brady be a dumbass, and a laugh escaped him before he flicked his ear. At that, he opened his eyes, and it was his turn to roll them for once. Max’s hands rose up to cup either side of his face, bringing his face closer to his own. “You’re a nerd.” He said quietly, affectionate as he pressed a kiss to his jawline, then his cheek. One of his hands slid to his ear, tugging on it gently as he leaned back. “Know what hurts? You saying coitus instead of fucking.” His gaze dropped back down to his mouth before he pressed a kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment as affection warmed his chest. He leaned back only to speak again, tired but teasing. “Don’t give me any of that PG ASMR.” He huffed a small laugh. “Who do you think I am?”

Brady grinned. “My onlyfans is a secret. You think I want you to see me naked?” He emphasized his own irony by sidling in closer to Max, bare skin against bare skin. He shook his head slightly as Max’s hands came up to his face. Brady’s own hand poked Max in the cheek. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, you douche. I’m being nice here.” He recoiled a bit as Max tugged his ear, but only because it kind of tickled. Not that he’d let him know that so he could forever use it against him. Brady hummed when Max kissed him, and then shook his head when they broke apart. “Uh, I always keep it PG,” he deadpanned. “Not my fault you just wanna be nasty all the time. Maybe you should start an onlyfans for your filthy ASMR.” He settled back down again, his head resting against the blond’s shoulder. Brady’s arm returned to where it’d been before, across Max’s waist. Fleetwood Mac was playing faintly now. Brady closed his eyes, feeling beautifully content even as his high and the afterglow started to slowly fade. He didn’t think he would ever get tired of this. And he didn’t want to. He didn’t like to think of Max as a secret he had to keep or anything like that; rather, it was incredible to just have something that was just between them. No one else had any idea what they experienced together — well, except for like, Max’s twin and their roommate. But even then. Brady took comfort in knowing it was just them for right now, because he knew, realistically, that it wouldn’t always be. He didn’t need to think about that right now, though. “Well, I’ll save the ASMR for someone who appreciates it,” he muttered softly after a long time, eyes closed as he stayed still against his boyfriend. “For now I’ll just go fuck myself, I guess.” And knew Max could feel him smiling against his skin.

#CANON #calm before the storm #current verse #015

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