#and that's why i play games taking place on alien worlds covered in water

[synthetickitsune]

me starting subnautica below zero: wow! missed this so much! :)

me coming to the end of the land and realizing i'll need to jump into the water now: wow! i didn't miss this at all! :)

[talenlee]

The Spelldancer

I wrote this on my blog a long time ago but I want to reshare it here for the opening discussion of a vision of how to talk about D&D that doesn't break down in pieces when you start interacting with anything but spherical players in a vacuum.

In my mind, I see D&D editions as a map of the same general world, scarred about with the history it lives; because no edition is really gone, and the game rules still exist and are still played (yes, even right now), it isn't correct to see them in terms of a linear flow of time as much as regions of related space. Some are earlier, were founded before, but they are all here.

When I think of them this way, though, they take on their own character. Basic D&D seems more bucolic, smaller and older, and a space made up of its own adventures. Characters are all reasonably similar to one another, and perhaps the entirety of what Basic D&D is can fit in one valley somewhere. The First Edition is a place of broken empires, and old world lore, a place where the reality itself doesn't quite make sense, and people must exist and coexist with the strange storybookness of how buildings stand and fall. Second edition is vast, an enormous sprawling empire of nation states scattered about, with whole nations and planes built out underneath it, subjugated and commanded even as they utter their strange national shibboleth of don't ask about thaco.

I do not know these places, I do not know these people. I have but passed through their lands.

Then there come the spaces I know.

Fourth Edition is a nation of stout borders; bigger than it should be, perhaps, but still reasonable. It did not overstretch its means, there are no strange, raggedy places where it tried to build where it could not. What lives there makes some sense; even the most powerful and terrible of its people are still recognisable as people. They do not stand apart from one another as strange and alien. There are the Essentials places, where the rules are smaller and simpler, the buildings boxier, but broadly, it is a kingdom where the roads all run the right way and there's no eldritch horrors lurking under the bed.

But 3.5 is right next door, and it spills out and around like a sinuous, corrupted beast. The lines of where it ends and begins are fuzzy. There's a little extradimensional space there, between it and 3.0, where there's a book called Ultramodern Firearms that would be disturbing if it wasn't just really bad. There are monsters in these spaces, creatures that wreck the world just by their breathing, things where the alchemy of character construction come together and the water runs black after them. If you know them, you know them, nonsense like Punpun and the pile of Warforged cultists. Things that could hypothetically be done. Power that needed arcane rituals to make happen.

But there's worse.

What I need you to understand is what I'm going to tell you about now is a 3.0 character option that's probably about as broken as you can get and you can get it accidentally.

Oh yes.

We're going to talk about the Spelldancer.

Magic of Faerun was a soft-cover splatbook, from the same era as Sword & Fist and Tome and Magic, where D&D was experimenting with small, cheaper books to keep giving people options. This was the dawn of digital distribution, the first era of official forum interconnection for D&D and the result was a patch of let's say roughness. There was a lot of philosophical contradiction going on.

The Spelldancer does something dangerous for a prestige class, though: it looks cool. Oh, there's a difficulty in getting in - you need a skill wizards sometimes struggle with, and you needed some feats that weren't exactly useful to you most of the time. Ironically, the feats are a big reason why people don't tend to see the Spelldancer as a valuable route for modern 3.0 powergaming play.

But the thing is, when you hear a spelldancer and you look at spelldancing, all you need to be is a spellcaster who dances, and players will often easily and readily decide to Do That Thing That Looks Cool. And then, you have a spelldancer in the party, and it's only a matter of time before they notice the supremely dumb thing the Spelldancer can do.

So here's the gimmick of the Spelldancer: They can spelldance. A Spelldance is a dance where you cast a spell with metamagic effects on it, and instead of increasing the spell's spell level (something limited by your character level and therefore, the level of the group), it increases the spell's casting time and requires you to make a dance skill check. You'll quickly find, if you spelldance, that your spelldancing kind of sucks, because to cast an empowered cone of cold at someone with a spelldance means your spell takes two full turns and moves you around enemies and stuff, and that's kinda crap. You could have cast three cones of cold in that time.

Then you'll look at your powers and your spelldancing and wonder: Hang on, what's this for. There are two schools of magic banned from it, invocation and necromancy, so they're out. But what's not banned is transmutation, a school that most wizards pick up some spells from because there are all these great utility effects. Then you might have that lurch in your stomach when you realise that adding a round of casting time to something may make it slow as hell in combat, but out of combat adds six seconds.

The next step is that when you realise that metamagic feats can be applied to spells multiple times. So you can Extend Extend a spell and make it last three times as long as normal. At level 6, this means that a spell that lasted 1/ hour a level, like a self-buff, now lasts 18 hours, which is to say, it lasts long enough that tomorrow, you'll still have that spell running when you go to cast it again after a long rest. Then there's Persistent Spell, that lets you keep a spell going permanently in exchange for 8 spellcasting levels, orrrr increasing the DC on your dance check by 8. Or there's Empower Spell, which gives you an extra +50% on the spell's effects, which doesn't just mean +50% damage, but say, +50% on the healing, or +50% on the area of a spell effect, and empower can be stacked too. So for +4 DC to your dance check, you could be making all your spells double their numbers.

Spelldancers naturally flow to being self-buffing monsters and I don't use the word monster lightly in 3.0 power balance problems. But a Spelldancer can, at level 6 when they first become a Spelldancer, reliably expect to be able to make a Perform check of 19, without any effort. That means they could, for example, make a level 3 spell, their highest level available, last all day with Persistent Spell. Or they could cast an Extended Empowered Empowered Empowered Fox's Cunning a few times and give themselves 12 extra points of intelligence that will last long enough to make their next day's spells even better. Or and this is where it gets super messed up, cast an empowered empowered empowered Eagle's Splendour, increasing their Charisma, and therefore making it possible to make even better dances. Then you have a feedback loop, where every day you're making bigger and bigger Eagle's Splendours and they make tomorrow's dances even more dumb and this isn't really meaningfully capped. Travel time becomes this set of iterating math problems where at the end of it you may have a character who, again, level 6, has something like a 50 Charisma and can just convince people to lay down arms by dint of being that hot.

There are more broken builds around, absolutely, and the Incantatrix is basically a zero friction, better version of what the Spelldancer can do, but you kind of have to go looking for the Incantatrix, and there are lots of levels where they're not doing anything broken unless you're trying. The Incantatrix puts its power at a later level, so you need to hit level 11 or so before you can do silly stuff with it.

The problem with the spelldancer, though, is that you can stumble into this power. And once you work out how it works, the only thing that stops you pushing this feedback loop is the DM or player looking at the paper in their hands and going 'it can't work that way, right?'

[queenshelby]

A NEW WORLD – PART NINE

A QUIET PLACE 2 FANFIC

Pairing: Emmett x Fem!Reader

Warning: Angst, Gore, Death, Murder, Attempted Rape, Aliens, Violence, Movie Spoilers, SMUT, etc…

DAY 764

‘Say Good Morning Mumma’ Emmett said holding up Charlotte as you came walking out of the bedroom.

‘I didn’t hear your get up. Why didn’t you wake me?’ you asked as you were still not used to Charlotte sleeping in a different room to you ever since Emmett cleared out the study room and put up a toddler bed for Charlotte.

‘I thought that you could use some extra sleep’ Emmett said as he took one of the wooden blocks away from Charlotte. You were up with Charlotte for two nights as she was teething and last night you finally managed to sleep five hours straight.

‘Not in your mouth, remember?’ Emmett said and Charlotte pouted at him, trying to get the wooden block back with her tiny little hand.

‘I asked Jeremy to pick up some children’s paracetamol and a teething toy on his run to the mainland today. Also, one of the women on the island found a baby monitor packed away in her garage. I will try and get it to work today. You might feel a bit less anxious about Charlotte being in another room if you can hear her through the monitor’ Emmett suggested as he handed you a cup of instant coffee.

‘Thank you’ you said with a warm smile and some guilt. You still haven’t told Emmett that he is Charlotte’s father. Yet, you could see an instant connection between them.

Emmett has never asked about Charlotte’s father and you never told him much about her and her birth. It was more that you could handle at the time especially since you thought that he was in a relationship with Nancy.

‘How come you and Nancy don’t share house?’ you eventually asked as you were making breakfast.

‘It’s complicated Y/N’ Emmett said, causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.

‘So, you aren’t in love with each other? Is that it?’ you asked curiously.

‘I don’t have feelings for her if this is what you mean. In fact, I believe that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing. It’s not worth it’ he said before putting his empty bowl into the sink and excusing himself.

It was obvious to you that he didn’t really want to discuss his relationship with Nancy.  

***

Later that day you were invited to Nancy’s house to play cards and have some wine.

Reagan had kindly offered to babysit Charlotte that evening as Lucas and Marcus were out in the woods for the night, hunting animals for the community to eat alongside Emmett’s friend Morgan.

You had the feeling that there was something between Morgan and Evelyn, but didn’t dare to question it.

***

‘This is so strange’ you said as you took five cards from the deck and a glass of wine from the ones Nancy had poured and placed in the middle of the table.

‘Being here, on the island, you mean?’ Nancy asked and you nodded. You still struggled with the idea of being safe, of not being hungry and of having access to clean water simply to have a shower. The strangest of it all was that Charlotte’s father was with you now after you had expected to never see him again.

‘I think you just need to accept the fact that God chose you to be here. To keep you safe. It’s that simple’ Nancy said and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘I am sorry Nancy but I find it hard to believe after all the shit that has happened to me and my family and friends. I had to kill people to get here. I put a knife in the head of a close friend so that she would no longer suffer when she fell ill while we were at the bunker. I was almost raped by two men when Emmett saved me. Was all of this God’s plan for me?’ you sighed as you had lost faith many years ago.

‘Let’s not talk about faith, shall we’ Evelyn said and you all nodded in agreement quite quickly. After all, faith and believe had become a difficult topic and some people struggled more with it than others since the invasion.

‘Where is Emmett tonight?’ Adrian, one of the others, asked and Nancy rolled her eyes in response.

‘Who knows. He said that he needed space. He’s been acting strange ever since he got back from the mainland and my best guess is that he’s down by the old beach shag. That’s where he usually goes when he wants to be alone’ Nancy sighed somewhat disappointed. Clearly, Emmett has not let her into who he was and to who had become.

‘Hmm I wonder why that is?’ Evelyn said as she sipped on her glass of white wine while looking over at you with a smile.

You were surprised by the look Evelyn gave you. Did she know about you and Emmett you wondered?

***

After two games of cards, you helped Evelyn to take the empty wine bottles back to the kitchen in order to get some refills for everyone.

‘You need to tell him Y/N’ Evelyn said calmly as she started opening two more bottles of wine.

‘What do you mean?’ you whispered, looking at Evelyn with wide open eyes.

‘That Charlotte is his daughter’ she then went on to say.

‘How do you know?’ you whispered in a panic. You never had this conversation with her.

‘Lucas told me Charlotte’s birthday and he also told me that she came four weeks early and he had to help deliver her. Apparently, he is still a little freaked out about seeing his sister’s vagina’ she laughed before continuing on. ‘Emmett told me about you six months ago, about the night you spent together and how he could never tell Nora who the woman was he had been with that night. He still feels guilty about it all’ Evelyn whispered.

‘I remember when he called me the day after, telling me that what happened between us was nothing more than a mistake. But of course, he feels guilty towards Nora after all the crap she put him through that year’ you sighed, remembering how bad their relationship had become before the night in question.

‘No Y/N’ Evelyn said as she put one of her hands onto your shoulder. ‘The guilt he feels is towards you, for pushing you away the way he did after the night he had spent with you. He loved you. He probably still does’ Evelyn whispered with a smile.

‘He’s got a funny way of showing it. He had more than a month to say something to me before these things invaded our planet’ you huffed.

‘The morning after you had spent the night with Emmett, Nora called him from the hospital near her sister’s house. She was diagnosed with cancer that day. Her prognosis was good at the time but she never got the treatment she needed following the invasion. He chose his family Y/N. He had to’ Evelyn said with both of her hands on your shoulders.

‘I had no idea’ you said as your chin dropped and small tears began to form in the inside of your eyes. Emmett had never given an explanation to you as to why he acted the way he did and you immediately felt awful about what him and Nora must have been through.

‘I know. That’s why I am telling you now. You need to forgive him for what happened between you and let him be a father to Charlotte’ Evelyn said and you nodded in agreement.

There was nothing to say and, as soon as you returned to Nancy’s living room, you excused yourself.

You explained to the group that Charlotte was teething and that you were tired and wanted to get some rest. But the truth was that you had to see Emmett and clear things up once and for all.

***

As you arrived at the top of the hill which led down to the beach and the old beach shag, you could see Emmett sit on a large towel in front of a small fire place, starring at the sea.

Quietly and slowly, you made your way down the hill in between the bushes and approached Emmett from behind.

‘You scared the shit out of me Y/N’ Emmett said just after he startled as you tapped him on the shoulder.

‘I am sorry’ you smiled before kneeling down next to him.

‘What are you doing here?’ Emmett asked and, without words, you caressed his face with one of your hands and drew his lips closer towards yours.

‘This’ you whispered before your lips met in a passionate kiss.

‘Y/N, I am so sorry for…’ Emmett tried to say as your lips finally drifted apart.

‘Sshh. I know’ you said before pressing your lips back onto his one more time, even more desperate and passionate than before.

‘I love you’ you whispered after you had silenced him with your lips and, just as they parted again, he told you that he loves you too.

‘Didn’t you say that love in a world like this is a dangerous thing?’ you asked in between kisses and while your hands began to roam over each other’s bodies.

‘It is and I am afraid of it, but sometimes you can’t help it. I have loved you for years Y/N’ Emmett said, his deep blue eyes gazing into yours.

‘Oh Emmett’ you sighed, before you climbed onto his lap and pressed your lips against his again.

Your lips parted slightly, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and start dancing with yours all while he began to unbutton your blouse.

‘We are on a public beach Emmett’ you giggled as his eyes wandered over your breasts which clearly had gotten larger.

‘No one ever comes down here’ Emmett assured you before guiding you off him and pushing you onto the towel beneath him, covering the sand.

After taking off his own t-shirt, Emmett rubbed both his hands along your thighs up towards the hem of your skirt. Then he moved his hands underneath your skirt and then back down towards your knees. As his hands made another pass over your legs and under your skirt, he reached all the way to the top of your thighs and his fingers felt around for your panties. Not finding any, he looked up at you and raised his eyebrows in a playful manner.

‘Shortage of underwear on the island’ you answered his unasked question with a little smirk and a flirtatious look in your eyes.

Emmett then started exploring you with his fingers. Finding you wet and aroused, he pressed one of his fingers easily into your opening and then slid it back out and rubbed it along your pussy lips and towards your clit. He repeated this process over and over again and you let out a soft moan every time his fingers made this journey along your body. Your eyes met and you bit your lip as he continued fingering you.

‘Oh my god, that feels so good’ you whispered to him and he smiled back at you.

You certainly didn't want him to stop, but you also wanted more.

After a few more minutes of this pleasure, you pulled him on top of you and your bodies were pressed up together. You could feel Emmett's hardness straining through his jeans against your thighs and you could help but moan at the sensation.

He then pulled your mouth to his in a passionate embrace. Your breaths were shallow as your kiss deepened, his mouth practically enveloping yours.

It wasn’t long until Emmett reached between you and unzipped his jeans before pulling them down along with his briefs.

‘Fuck I want you so badly’ you whispered as you pushed up your skirt and spread your legs widely, allowing Emmett to line himself up with your soaking entrance.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Emmett moaned as he thrusted his rock-hard cock into your very wet, swollen, and ready, opening.

You let out a long, low moan as he entered you. His cock felt so good inside you; like two puzzle pieces fitting together. You squeezed your muscles on him in response, sending a shiver of intensity through your body. With your left legs wrapped around him, he was pushing deep into you. With every hard and fast thrust, you would yell out, not afraid of making your noises heard on this darkened and empty beach. As he pounded into you, your hands slid, scratched and grabbed all over his body, along his back, onto his shoulders, and then down to his ass. You gripped his tight ass cheeks and pushed him in tighter on each thrust.

‘Don’t come inside me’ you barely managed to say and Emmett simply nodded as he kept thrusting into you deeply.

With all the thrusting, you eventually arched your back, changing the angle of his entry, and now his cock was hitting your very sensitive g-spot.

Your moans now turned to loud "fucks" and "oh gods" and you were soon pretty close to an explosive orgasm. Knowing that you were close to climax, Emmett sped up his thrusts which sent your over the edge.

‘Oh god, oh god, oh god...Emmett…fuck’ you moaned as a powerful orgasm rippled through your body and Emmett’s palm quickly came down on your mouth.

‘Shh’ he smirked as your pelvic muscles contracted and pulsed, tightening around his cock and then released. Spasm like shivers moved up to your shoulders and through your body and you let out a very long, satisfied exhalation.

‘Holy Fuck’ you said to Emmett, with an exasperated laugh in your voice once he finally removed his hand from your mouth.

He smiled back at you, then scooped his arms up under your back and lifted you to sit facing him. Still catching your breath, your mouths came together for a kiss, but you simply exchanged warm breaths into each other's mouths before your lips met.

As your body calmed from the orgasm, you brought your hand down to his cock. He was wet and sticky from your fluids, so you leaned down, bringing your lips to his cock, tasting yourself on him and began sliding your tongue all along his shaft, adding the lubrication of your saliva to him.

Your tongue made broad strokes along the underside of his cock and then tickled the tip and then back down again, adding more and more moisture to his cock with every lick. Now slippery with your moisture, you brought your hand to his cock and began moving it up and down, giving your mouth a break. As you squeezed your fingers and twisted your wrist on his cock, he brought his fingers back to play with your pussy. Still highly sensitive from the orgasm you had just experienced, you gasped at his initial touch and your muscles involuntarily squeezed and clenched.

He inserted his pointer and middle fingers into your wet opening, then dragged them out and up along your lips to your sensitive clit. You let out a loud groan as he did this, while your hand continued its work on his cock. Slowly, he continued moving his fingers along your wetness, along your lips and then he started finger fucking you, slowly at first and then faster and with more intensity. You matched his intensity with your hand on his cock. Faster and deeper he plunged into your warm tunnel, and faster and tighter you moved on his manhood. He took in a deep inhalation and let out a gasp and you knew he was close to release. His fingers were now rapidly pounding into you and you were moving your hand faster than ever on his cock.

‘I am close’ Emmett moaned, barely managing to speak and you quickly dropped your head down onto his swollen cock and he let out a loud, guttural exhalation as his warm and sweet cum released into your mouth.

‘Hmm’ you moaned out, squeezing his cock with your lips and sliding them up and down as he pulsed out more semen into your mouth. Once he was complete, she licked your tongue on his cock, before removing your mouth and swallowing.

You had never really enjoyed sucking off a cock and swallowing cum before, but with Emmett it was different and you were somewhat truly delighted in satisfying Emmett this way.

You sat up and looked at Emmett. His head was leaned back, his eyes closed, and a look of complete pleasure on his face.

‘Fuck…this was something else’ he whispered to you, followed by a deep sigh and a little contented laugh.

You smiled in return as he fluttered his eyes open.

It wasn’t long until your lips met again and, just as you heard some noises in the bushes besides you, Emmett quickly pulled up his pants while you buttoned up the blouse which never left your body.

Then, Emmett quickly put his t-shirt back on and, to your relief, two rabbits jumped out of the bushes making you both laugh and fall back against the towel which was barely covering the sand from the beach.

‘Emmett?’ you said as you rested your head on his chest while your eyes were gazing into the fire.

‘Hmm’ he said as he was holding you tight.

‘There is something I need to tell you’ you murmured.

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[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird:   The Hand of Andromeda Ch. 1

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps) (New chapters will be posted first to patreon and then moved here) Hanging above the front of the classroom loomed an archaic clock; its arms slowly moving with the passing of each second. To Lizzy Stalwart who was the only student left in the classroom the clock appeared more like a prison warden, watching over her until her hour was due.

Mr. Parkins, her teacher, sat behind his desk just under the clock. He appeared to the casual observer to be going over today’s submitted papers and grading them, but Lizzy could tell from his constant sidelong glances that he was more interested in his data pad he had tucked away in a side drawer. No doubt it was playing the live feed for the Rebound Prix game going on today. He would occasionally look up to watch Lizzy with suspicious eyes before looking away again as if uninterested.

Lizzy had never liked Mr. Parkins as a teacher. He always felt the need to show off his intelligence, always needing to make people feel inferior to him, and always gloating about his past achievements. Frankly she thought that he was having a midlife crisis and this was his coping mechanism, but with each passing day it just became sadder and sadder to watch.

Before Lizzy could further ponder the sad existence of her teacher a series of knocks came from the classroom door. Mr. Parkins looked up from data pad and closed the drawer it was in. He straightened himself out and said “Come in.”

The door to the classroom slowly opened and a towering figure entered the room. They needed to stoop slightly to enter as their muscular build could barely squeeze through the door frame. At first Parkins thought that the figure was just a rather muscular human until the figure fully emerged into the room.

“Thank you for coming on such short-“Mr. Parkins began as he stood and held a hand out then stopped himself. He took a good look at the figure now that he was outside of the doorway and saying he was surprised would be an understatement.

The figure was none other than a Predatorian, standing easily six or seven feet tall and dressed in a coal black suit and matching pants of no doubt expensive material. Orange and black slit eyes looked down at Parkins before looking passed him to Lizzy. As they saw her the Predatorian’s mouth twitched for a moment and Parkins could see a gleaming row of razor teeth behind the smooth blue and white scaly skin.

Turning their gaze back to Mr. Parkins with his hand still held out but unable to move, the Predatorian clasped it with his own hand and shook it.

“It’s no trouble at all.” The Predatorian said. The fluency of his speech was almost as unnerving to Parkins as the sand paper like texture of their skin.

“You-you-you are…” Parkins trebled on as his body switched to auto pilot and continued shaking the alien’s hand. “You are Ms. Starlwart’s guardian?”

“I am.” The Predatorian let go of Mr. Parkins hand who was still dumbly shaking it. “You can call me Mr. B; I spoke with you earlier on the phone.”

“Why yes we did, but I was just thinking you would be-.”

“Human?”

Mr B. grinned, showing off even more teeth as he waved his hand as if dismissing Parkins concerns. “That’s alright; I get that a lot with humans.”

Lizzy watched as her father motioned for Parkins to sit back down which he gladly did. She could tell Mr. Parkins was regaining a bit of his composure returning as he sat behind his desk now that it separated the two of them.

“I was a bit confused why I am here however.” Mr B. continued. “You weren’t specific with what my little girl was in trouble for and I would like to clear up that confusion now.”

“Today was the final exam for the class before the summer break.”

At this Parkins pulled open a drawer from behind his desk and withdrew a single paper sheet from it. He placed it on his desk so Mr. B could fully see it.

“Your daughter was upset with how her grade came out and began arguing with me about changing it. I felt this was most disrespectful and thought her parents should be made aware.”

“That’s because you docked me points for not using a calculator!” Lizzy stood up suddenly and nearly knocked over her chair. “I told you I didn’t need one but you still told me I needed to use it!”

“It’s alright sweetie,” Mr. B said in a soothing tone Mr. Parkins found completely at odds with his appearance, “I’ll take care of this.”

Lizzy pouted but sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. She couldn’t even look at Mr. Parkins without becoming upset at this point.

Smirking Parkins turned from Lizzy back to Mr. B. “You see? Your daughter is smart but her manners can be lacking at times.”

Mr. B was ignoring Parkins and picked up Lizzy’s exam. He slowly went over reading every line before looking back at Parkins.

“Were her answers wrong?”

Mr. Parkins looked confused for a moment but rallied.

“She was docked points by not following the rules.”

“But were her answers right?”

Mr. B walked towards the desk and now loomed over Parkins. He set the paper back down on the desk and tapped it with his talon like finger. He locked eyes with Parkins and continued tapping the paper.

“I’m asking if these answers she gave are right or not.”

“Technically,” Parkins began, swallowing deeply as the locked eye contact whittled away his composure again, “they were correct.”

“Then it makes no sense why you took away points.” Mr. B stood back up to his full height. “She did the work and gave the correct responses.”

“But she didn’t follow the rules I laid out for the exam.” Parkins countered. “Not following the rules will not get you anywhere in the real world Mr. Stalwart.”

“And what would you know of the real world?”

Parkins looked up and saw nothing but pure anger written across Mr. B’s face. The corner of his mouth was twitching once more revealing the sharpened white teeth. His eyes narrowed and his stare turned hard.

“You, who spend every day inside this tiny safe box”

Parkins retreated deeper into his chair as Mr. B grasped the table and leaned forward.

“You sit here behind your tiny desk in your tiny world and think that you know how the “real” world works, do you?”

Mr. B was now leaning over Parkins, his shadow swallowing him up. Parkins clasped his hands together to stop them from shaking as gut wrenching fear crept up his spine like a cold shower. He looked into Mr. B’s eyes for a moment and saw nothing but a barely contained rage, held in check by the thinnest of lines. Parkins’s stare broke away for a moment and looked over at Lizzy only to see she was still sitting at her desk but had covered her face in her arms as if embarrassed.

Mr. B pushed forward Lizzy’s papers. “You will give her the credit she is do or else.”

“O-o-o-or else what?” Parkins stammered, to which Mr. B smiled. Not a friendly smile, but one of pure devilish delight. The kind of smile Parkins had seen on holo dramas from villains just as they were about to commit evil.

“Or else I will have the school board have you removed from your position.”

As Parkins looked at Mr. B’s calm demeanor he could tell this was no idle threat, but more a assured promise.

“Oh,” Mr. B continued as he casually picked some lint off his suit and flicked it away, “I’ll also have you black listed from every school on the planet.”

“But you can’t do that!” Parkins was on his feet so suddenly that he knocked his desk with his knees and sent the contents atop it scattering to the floor.

Mr. B casually shrugged and took on a more relaxed posture. “I can, because unlike you I know how the real world works.” He calmly bent down and picked up Lizzy’s paper and put it on the desk again.

Parkins looked back and forth between Lizzy and Mr. B like a deer trapped in headlights before slumping back into his chair.

“I will correct the mistake.” Parkins said reluctantly.

“Good man.” Mr. B adjusted his suit and motioned to Lizzy. She sighed loudly and rose to her feet, hefting her backpack and heading towards the door. “I knew we would come to an understanding.”

“Your daughter will have no trouble passing my class from now on.” Parkins continued, any shred of dignity lost from the encounter. Surprisingly Mr. B shook his head.

“I don’t want her getting a free pass.” He fixed Parkins with a stern stare again which made him further retreat into his chair. “All I want is for her to be treated fairly.”

Parkins couldn’t say anything and just nodded his head as the two of them left the classroom.

The car ride home from school was uncomfortably quiet for Lizzy. She sat in the back with Mr. B while their driver carefully navigated the busy streets of downtown Gilfield. The buildings flew by like blurry images as the car drove the two of them back home. The car itself was a stretched model with the back lavishly decorated with emerald silk and several bottles of Juvian IV water or exotic liquors.

Every block or so Lizzy would glance over at Mr. B expecting him to say something to her, but every time she saw him casually reading some papers and making notes or dabbing his slowly dying cigar into the ash tray. This went on for about ten minutes before she couldn’t bare the silence anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry.” Lizzy said as she crossed her arms and sat back into her seat. Mr. B set down the papers he was reading and turned to her.

“I’m not upset with you,” he began as he twisted the final embers of his cigar out and closed the tray, “but you know better than to poke the bear.”

“But Mr. Parkins-“Lizzy began but Mr. B held up a hand to stall her.

“I stood up for you because your teacher was being an asshole and needed to be taken down a peg; but that doesn’t mean his point wasn’t valid.” He pulled out a bottle of red velvet like liquid and poured a glass for himself, careful not to spill a drop as the car continued down the road. As the liquid touched his lips his pupils dilated and a shudder ran down the length of his body. “In his classroom he’s the boss, and when you’re the boss everyone under you must do what you say.”

“Until you find a way to do it better.” Lizzy quipped back making Mr. B smile.

“I’m glad to see some of my lessons are sticking with you.”

Lizzy smiled back as she pulled out a napkin and threw it at him. “Were as the ones I teach you fall on deaf ears.” He looked confused for a moment until she motioned down with her head and he saw several drops had spilled on his suit.

“Son-of-a-bi-“he began before the driver cut him off.

“We’ve arrived sir, madam.”

“Thanks Hendriks.” Lizzy was already out the door as she called back to the driver and stepped out on to the street. It was nearly dusk and the city lights were beginning to turn on one by one turning a dull city into a light show of neon and glare. A line was beginning to form around the block as Lizzy walked passed them to the front and waved to the bouncer at the door. To the crowds surprise the bouncer let the kid cut the line and enter the night club “Blitz”.

As she made her way through the club she smiled and greeted the staff still prepping the place for opening. Several of the dancers on stage saw her and called out which she waved back but continued her way upstairs and into the back rooms meant only for staff.

She came to a thick metal door strong enough to take an anti-grav tank rocket and not be dented and stopped. Pulling her backpack off she shuffled around inside until she found he id card and swiped it. The door beeped and lit up green for a moment before slowly rumbling open letting Lizzy continue on.

Unlike the front of the club the back room was an entirely different beast altogether. In place of bar benches and rows of liquor, stood weapon racks and crates larger than her entire body. The scantily clad dancers were replaced with thick muscled guards checking weapons before loading them into storage containers. Even the air itself that had smelled of cologne and perfume was replaced with the stench of weapon oils and hydraulic fluid.

She wondered why her dad had wanted to keep both of the businesses he ran under the same roof but when she thought about it the whole thing was so cliché that no one would believe it anyway. Who would think the largest mercenary company in the Sleisian Belt would be being run out of the back of a seedy nightclub?

She had just made it to her room when an aid approached her. Without a word said they handed her a data pad which she took without looking at it as she opened her room’s door.

“I’ll have it finished and organized in an hour.” She said to them. They nodded and scampered off back down the hallway to the arming room as the door closed behind her.

Her room was modest by comparison to the military quarters outside. Pictures of singers were on the walls and the ceiling was covered with star charts that shifted as the projector updated them every passing minute.

She threw off her backpack and plopped herself down on to the nearby bed. She’d hoped laying there for a few minutes would relax her after the mind numbing ordeal Parkins had put her through but the more she thought about it the more frustrated she became.

Sitting up she shuffled over to her desk and picked up the data pad she had been given earlier.

“Computer, play track seven.” She said as she sat down and began going over the day’s expense report for the company. Just looking over the initial figures she had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

[jungwonenthusiast]

Friend's Don't Lie Ch. 3 & 4

Pairing: Jungwon x reader

Warnings for this chapter: Jay trying to smoke lmfao, swearing

Word count: 2.6k

Based on: Stranger Things

Jungwon

“No fucking way.” Jay shakes his head. “I swear she did it!” Jungwon voices. “You know him right? Sunoo?”

You nod.

“This is insane. How would she know him?” Jay scoffs.

“Have an open mind.” Jake says.

“How can we trust her?” Jay argues.

“Why not?” Jungwon says.

“No, she’s crazy.” Jay climbs up the stairs and opens the door to leave but it slams in his face. “What the fuck.” he opens it again just for it to shut again.

They turn to look at you.

“No.”

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“I’m telling you, she’s a psycho.” Jay sighs.

“No she’s not, she has super powers.” Jake sits next to her and she smiles.

“So where’s Sunoo?” Jay asks and you look away. “See? She doesn’t know.”

Then, you stand up and walk over to the table where the Dungeons and Dragons game lays. They’re eyes widen. You pull the board out and flip it upside down so that the board is just black.

You point at the board. “He's here.”

“What do you mean?” Jungwon asks.

“He’s here.” you point again.

“No he’s not.” Jay groans. “Sunoo’s been kidnapped.”

“No he hasn’t,” Jungwon sends him a stern look. “Something fucked up has happened. I can feel it.”

Jay scoffs. “What are you? Psychic?”

“Shut up,” Jungwon rolls his eyes. “Things have just been… off ever since that night.” “So what does this mean?” Jake comes up to the table. “She just flipped the board upside down.”

“Upside down.” you pick up the wizard character, Sunoos character, and place it on the board.

“Shit,” Jungwon says. “Is that where he is?”

“This is kind of crazy.” Sunghoon chuckles.

“Kind of?” Jay exclaims.

“Listen, they obviously have some kind of connection. She recognized him in the picture and she knows who he plays.”

“So what’s he doing in there?” Jake furrows his brow.

“Hiding.” you say quietly. Jungwon can tell that you’re scared.

“From what?”

You pull the demogorgon out of the box and slam it onto the board.

Jungwon makes eye contact with Jake.

“What. The fuck.” Niki says.

“What- what does that mean?” Jungwon looks at her.

“Monster.” you say quietly.

“Monster?” Jay bleats. “What are we in Alien now?”

“You don’t understand.” you say. “The world is more than you know.”

That silences Jay pretty quickly.

“So you know where he is.” Jungwon confirms and she nods. “Can you take us there tomorrow after school?”

“After school?” you tilt your head.

“Yeah, at three fifteen.” he says.

“Three fifteen.”

“Mhm, here,” he takes his digital watch off and fastens it onto your wrist. “When it says three one five, come meet us out by the power lines.”

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“Okay, don’t forget, three fifteen.” Jungwon tells you the next morning.

You nod but you seem blue. Your eyes are duller than usual.

“You okay?” he asks and you shrug. He sits in front of your fort.

“Jungwon-ah! Time to go!” Mrs. Yang calls out.

“One second!” he yelps. “What’s up?”

You hesitate. “I don’t like being alone.”

“I know, being alone is boring, but I can’t stay here again, I’ll get in trouble.” he sympathizes.

“Will they hurt you?” you ask, worried.

“My parents?” he cocks his head and you nod. “No no, they won’t hurt me, they'll just be upset.”

You nod and look down.

“I’ll be back soon though, just stay put until my parents go to work, okay?” he reaches to grab your hand and you flinch. “Shit, sorry.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I’m just not used to it.”

He smiles at you. “See you soon El, don’t forget, three fifteen.” he says as he walks up the stairs.

El

Everything is strange. The carpet feels weird on your feet. You’ve only ever walked on cold tiles.

You venture up to his room.

His room is dark and lived in. There are science fair trophies on his dresser and the walls are covered in band posters.

You touch one of them.

“The Cure. Boys Don’t Cry.” you say softly.

He has a bookshelf full of cassettes tapes and novels with the spines peeling off. There’s a couple baskets of vinyls on the floor and you squat to look at them.

You read them all outloud. “New Order, The Police, The Human League, Black Flag, Duran Duran, Devo, Misfits.”

You don't know what they are. You remind yourself to ask when you see him again.

You climb under his covers and snuggle into his pillow.

You notice that he still has a stuffed animal on his bed and you smile.

Jungwon

He finds you standing tensely by the powerlines. Your arms crossed and your shoulders hiked up.

“El!” he jogs up to you. “You okay?”

You smile a small smile and nod.

“You ready to take us there?” he asks.

“Yes.”

You hop into the Camaro and tell him every time he needs to take a turn until they arrive at their destination.

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“Are you serious?” Jay scoffs.

You had brought them to Sunoo’s house.

“What?” Jungwon says to himself. “He’s not here, El.”

“See? She’s a liar.” Jay groans.

“I’m not a liar.” you say.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Sunghoon sighs.

“You don’t understand.” you grumble.

“Then help us understand!” Jay says, agitated.

You shake your head in annoyance.

You all slump into your chairs when the blaring of sirens catch your attention.

You all twist to check out what’s going on. It’s a dozen police cars driving at the speed of light.

Jungwon puts the car into drive and follows them.

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CHAPTER 4

Jungwon

He can’t believe his eyes. He feels his knees buckle as Sunoo’s limp body is pulled out of the water.

He doesn’t remember anything that happened that night except the way he screamed at you.

“You liar! You fucking liar! I trusted you!”

Words couldn't explain how he felt. He felt cold but there was a fire building up in him. He’d never been that angry in his life.

El

He doesn’t understand. That body is fake. Sunoo is breathing. You can feel it.

Jungwon

You try to sit next to him on the basement couch but he scoots away.

“Jungwon,” you say but he ignores you. “Won.” that gets his attention. “I am not lying to you.”

“You keep saying that,” he groans. “You expect me to believe you? I saw him with my own two eyes.”

You shake your head. “It’s fake.”

He scoffs.

“I’m not lying.”

“I’ve had enough of this-” he stands up to leave but you grab his hand.

“Jungwon, please listen to me.” you pull him back down to sit.

You reach to the table and grab his walkie talkie. Your eyes shut and the basement light flickers.

Jungwon’s about to get up to leave again when he hears static, and Sunoo’s soft voice.

“Darling you got to let me know,” Sunoo sings, as quiet as ever. “Should I stay or should I go?”

Jungwon’s jaw nearly drops.

“If you say that you are mine, I’ll be here ‘till the end of time-” his singing is cut short.

You look at him, waiting for a response.

“Was that?” he looks at you, dumbfounded.

“Sunoo.” you nod.

“How’d you..?”

“Friends don’t lie.”

He pauses for a moment to process everything that just happened, then his head drops. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” you say and he shakes his head.

“No it’s not. I shouldn’t have yelled at you last night. I’ve been so rude.” he looks up at you for a second just to look away again.

You pick up his chin and his eyes widen.

“It’s okay. People make mistakes.” you say and he smiles.

El

You want to hug him, but you’re not sure how to. He looks so small right now. He looks like he needs a hug.

Jungwon

You hold onto his hand for a quick second and his heart leaps into his throat.

“What’s wrong?” you say and he looks up at you.

“What?”

“Your cheeks.” she points. “They’re red. Are you angry?”

He touches his cheek. “No, no, I’m just…” he giggles. “No, I'm not angry.”

“Your ears too.” you point and he grabs at his ears.

“I-it’s nothing.” he stutters and you shrug.

“I wanted to ask you something.” you say and he nods. “What are those things in the boxes on your bedroom floor?”

He ponders for a moment. “Oh, my vinyls?”

You shrug. “What's a vinyl?”

Has she never listened to music? He wonders.

“They’re like these discs that you put onto a player and they play music.” he explains.

You furrow your brow but nod.

“Maybe we can play them sometime when my parents aren’t around.” he smiles.

“And the papers on the wall, The Cure, Boys Don’t Cry.”

He sighs and grins. “The Cure, they’re the greatest band ever. You have to listen to them, they’ll change your life.” He begins to drum on the air and sing a tune. “I would say I’m sorry if I thought that it would change your mind, but I know that this time I have said too much been too unkind.”

“Pretty.” you say and he looks down, blushing again.

A moment passes before he speaks up again. “I have an idea.”

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“How are we gonna sneak her in?” Jake asks. “She doesn’t have any normal clothes.”

“She can borrow some from Jooyoung noona.” Jungwon says.

“She’ll fucking kill you if she finds out.” Jay says.

“I know, so none of you say a peep.” Jungwon orders.

“It’s kind of funny watching her beat you up to be honest.” Niki chuckles and Jungwon glares at him.

“Remember the time she gave him a swirly.” Sunghoon chimes and the whole group breaks out into laughter.

“Yeah I remember, I almost died.” Jungwon sneers.

“Honestly I wouldn't mind if she gave me a swirly if her tits were pressed up on my back like that.” Jay jokes and Jungwon pounces on him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

“Don’t fucking talk about her like that man.” Jungwon huffs and rakes a hand through his hair.

“Is it so wrong to say your sister is hot?” Niki holds back a laugh.

“You wanna be next?” Jungwon raises an eyebrow and Niki playfully gallops away.

“You guys are weird.” you say quietly and Sunghoon nods in agreement.

“You’re all getting off track, how are we gonna sneak her into our classes?” Jake finds comfort in your fort.

“Do you think we can say she’s a new student?” Niki suggests.

“No, no one can know about her.” Jungwon says.

“Why not?” Jay asks and lights a cigarette.

“Dude, what’d I tell you about fucking smoking?” Jungwon groans.

“Just light an incense.” Jay says and Jungwon grabs the cig.

“My mom’s not an idiot.”

“Maybe we can just get her in during lunch.” Niki suggests.

“How is she gonna get on campus?” Jake asks.

“She can hop the fence and meet us by the gym, no ones there during lunch.” Sunghoon says.

Jungwon turns to look at you. “Do you think you can jump a fence?”

You stare back at him. “I’ve never tried.”

“We can meet her at the fence and then help her over.” Jay says.

“Wait, how’s she even gonna get to the school, it’s not like she can drive.” Niki says.

“Fuck you’re right.” Jungwon sighs. “Do you think you can bike there?”

You shrug.

“Of course she can’t, she can barely talk properly.” Jay grumbles.

“Stop being a fucking dick head.” Jungwon snaps.

“Okay bitchy Betty.” Jay jokes.

“Maybe I can just give you biking lessons tonight?” Jungwon turns to you. “What do you think?”

“Okay.” you say and he smiles.

El

“Here, hop on,” he holds the bike steady for you. It’s late at night and it's so cold that clouds puff out of your mouths every time you talk.

You hesitate. “What if I fall?”

“You won’t, I’m holding on tight.” he assures you.

You grab the handles and try your best to get on. You wobble and let out a small squeak.

“This is scary.” you say to him and he chuckles.

“It’s scary at first, but you’ll get it soon.” he says.

He gives you a moment to regain your balance. The moon is shining bright in his backyard and it’s illuminating his face.

“Ready to peddle?” he says and you shake your head. “Come on, it’s easier than you think.”

“Fine.” you mumble.

He holds on the back of the seat and one handle as you slowly push forward.

“I’m gonna fall!” you yelp.

“No you’re not, look how good you’re doing.” he says as you pick up speed.

And soon, he’s jogging to keep up to you. You don’t even notice that he took his hands off the bike until he points it out.

“Let’s leave the backyard,” he says and points to the gate. “Go through there.”

You follow suit.

Riding the bike is invigorating. The wind is cold and crisp against your skin. You’ve never felt anything like this before.

Eventually you look back; you see Jungwon jogging after you, his smile as bright as ever. You smile back so big that it almost hurts your face.

You let your leg down to stop yourself. He catches up to you.

“That was awesome.” he says, a little out of breath.

You giggle and his eyes widen.

“What?” you ask.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before.” he says and you look away sheepishly.

You’re all alone on this dark road and the only source of light is the moon. The scene would be eerie if Jungwon wasn't there with you.

“Well, now you know how to ride a bike,” he says. “Do you think you can make it all the way to school?”

“I think so,” you nod and he nods back.

A moment of silence passes before he speaks again.

“So how’s the fort? Is it too small?”

“Only a little, I like it though.” you reply.

“I wish I could build you your own room or something,” he says. “You could sleep on the basement couch but that’d be pretty risky.”

“What about your room?” you ask cluelessly.

“My room?” his eyes widen. His eyes are already so big and when he widens them they basically take up half of his face.

“Why can’t I sleep in your room?” you say blatantly.

“Uhm, I guess you could. That’s kind of risky don’t you think?” he says and you shrug.

You rub your arms from the cold.

“Let’s go inside,” he nods to his house. “It’s freezing.”

Jungwon

You both sneak back into the basement and he waits for you to wash up in the bathroom. He sticks his hand through the door and gives you a fresh set of clothes. Today it’s plaid pajama pants and a sweatshirt.

“Do you ever get bored here?” he asks as you change.

“Not really,” you say.

“What do you do when I’m gone?”

“I go to your room and look around.” you say and he goes beet red.

“What do you look at?” he asks, suddenly embarrassed. It's not like he had anything to hide, but the thought of you being in there makes him feel like he should’ve cleaned up or something.

“Everything,” you pull the sweatshirt over your head and exit the bathroom. “Is that bad? I’ll stop if you want.”

“No, it's fine,” he says. “I wish we could hang out more.”

You nod and scoot into your fort.

“Winter break is soon, I’ll be able to see you more then.”

“Winter break?”

“It’s this three week vacation all kids get during the winter.” he explains and you nod.

“Well, goodnight El.” he says while walking to the stairs.

"Wait," you run up to him and he whips around to look at you. You gently wrap your arms around his neck. "Thank you for tonight. It was very fun."

He stands there for a moment, too shocked to move. But he quickly snaps back to reality and rests his arms around your waist.

"Yeah, uhm, no problem." he says, trying his hardest not to sound shaky.

Your cheek feels smooth against his neck. There's this foreign electricity racing through his veins and it just makes him want to hold you tighter against him.

You pull away (to his disappointment) and smile before walking back to your fort.

He watches you get comfortable before heading up the stairs. He knows he won't be getting any sleep tonight. ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

taglist: @shawkneecaps @enhypenengenebea

[tigerdrop]

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else.  In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished.  A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver.  He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to.  Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

[your-eternal-muse]

Kinda Wish She Were Dead

Heather Series Part 8

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Bonus! Readers Card Confession Series Playlist 

Summery: During a night out on the town with the girls, Reader see’s something she wasn’t supposed to.

Words: 3.7k (my longest yet!)

Warnings: Swearing, a few sexual innuendos, Cheating, Mentions of Alcohol, and a fabulous right hook.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Heather Carmichael, Spencer Reid x eventual Female!Reader 

A/N: I’ve been waiting for this one....turn it up! Also, the song that inspired this chapter. For the meaning of the song, not that fucking boat scene.

~~~~

It’s hot.

Like “laying naked in the middle of your apartment with the air cranked and every fan blowing on you” hot.

I’m one of the lucky ones.

My old apartment was renovated to include central air a few years before I moved in.

Still, the humidity was smothering.

So why was I putting a full face of makeup on, knowing damn well I’m gonna sweat it off before the end of the night?

Because why the hell not?

It’s the first time I’ve made plans with the girls in months, and I deserve to feel pretty, even if only for an hour or two.

My therapist tells me I’m making progress.

And it finally feels like I am.

I don’t hate the day before it even starts when I wake up.

I hardly close my curtains anymore.

I’d like to say that with her help, everything went back to normal.

I go to work and come home. I hang out with my friends, water my potted plants. Talk to Spencer like I never confessed my love for him.

But it didn’t.

I haven’t really spoken to Spencer since the day I left.

I’ve wanted to.

I’ve wanted to tell him that I’m here. I’m still here. That I’m always going to be here.

That I care about him more than probably life itself.

Ever since I came back, we’ve had to work together, and we’ve had a few small conversations, but nothing like what we used to have.

I crave those conversations.

How we would bounce back and forth from idea to idea, topic to topic without so much as breaking a sweat.

The late night conversations about the probability of aliens, and life on the opposite side of the universe.

I crave him, and the intimacy he brought.

Lately though, he’s been coming to work with a sullen look on his face.

He shows up earlier, and stays later, drowning himself in his paperwork.

When her calls interrupt a caseload, he no longer eagerly picks up to hear what she has to say.

All I want to do is walk over and ask him how he’s doing. How the married life is treating him. If there���s anything I can do to help lift his spirits.

But I can’t.

I’d be overstepping a boundary I didn’t even know I created that night out on the balcony.

Knocking on my door snaps me out of my daze, and I quickly cap my lipstick, making my way towards my front door where my night stands, waiting.

JJ, Emily, and Penelope are waiting, big smiles and laughter bubbling from their lips.

I let the smile spread across my face.

“I just need to grab my shoes and then I’ll be ready.” I usher them into my hallway, running back to my bedroom to grab the pair of heels resting by my closet.

I sit on my bed, slipping them on with ease and grabbing my bag on my way out.

They all ooh and ahh when I step into the light of my kitchen, and JJ grabs my hand, twirling me in place so they can get a better look at my outfit.

“I almost forgot you had party attire, y/n.” 

“God, I wish I had an ass like that. I’m older than you. That’s not fair.” Emily says, landing a playful slap against the fabric of my skirt. 

“Oh stop it, you flatter me.” Once upon a time, the attention would have made me antsy. The voice in my head would whisper that they were lying to me, that they really thought I was the ugliest thing in existence. 

That was then, and this is now. Now the confidence shines off of me like a spotlight.

“You deserve to be flattered, you beautiful goddess you.” Penelope says, her hands waving in the air.

I take a look in the new mirror that hangs in my hallway, and I can’t help but agree. The tight black skirt accentuates my curves, the low cut golden crop top that sticks to me like another skin puts the girls on display, and my heels give me legs for days.

I look damn good.

“Okay okay okay, pre-game selfie!” Penelope grabs her phone and holds up in front of her while we gather around. 

She snaps the picture and within a few quick taps, a buzzing emits from my bag. 

I dig my phone out, seeing the picture pop up in my notifications. 

JJ has her arms wrapped around me, and I’m pressed to Penelope's side. Emily stands over us, one hand on JJ’s shoulder, the other on Penelopes. 

I don’t think I could fake a smile like the one on my face even if I wanted to. 

I save it to my phone.

~~~

If I thought being in my house, alone, with air conditioning was bad, then I shouldn't have even bothered coming out.

The bar, albeit small, was packed. 

Even if there was a breeze, or any airflow at all, the combined body heat of the crowd would have swallowed it up.

I couldn’t really bring it in me to care all that much, though.

The dim lights and heat left my skin with a sexy shine, bringing attention to all the right places. 

I could feel the eyes on me. 

The ones belonging to men wanting to drown their sorrows in a woman like me, one who appears vulnerable, willing to go along for the ride.

It’s been a while, since I’ve had the attention of the opposite gender, especially this very specific kind of attention.

It feels good, in a way. To be wanted so openly. But it doesn’t mean jack to me, not if it’s not the pair of eyes I’ve been desperate to catch.

I should stop thinking about him.

It’s a girls night out. I don’t have to think, or worry about anything. 

Besides, he’s probably busy doing other things. Thinking about me is the last thing on his mind.

I laugh and take a sip from the Shirley temple sitting in front of me, laughing as JJ recounts a story about will and a botched attempt at breakfast in bed.

I pick a cherry up from the fizzy drink, and bite the end off, relishing in the sweet flavor. I pop the stem in my mouth, twirling it around my tongue as I listen to the conversation, pulling it between my teeth and setting it down on the table in a knot.

“Oh my god. Did you just tie a cherry stem with your tongue?” Penelope is cheesing from the other side of the table, the bright pink straw of her margarita almost to her lips.

I laugh, holding it up for them to inspect. 

“You know what that means.” Emily says, taking a sip from her own drink, before continuing her thought. “You, my friend, can give great head.”

A blush covers my cheek, but I cock an eyebrow. “Who told you?”

The three women burst into high pitched laughter, and I see Pen pull out her phone. She holds it up to me. 

“Do it again. The internet needs to be blessed with this knowledge.”

I chuckle again, the spirit of the night enough to get me drunk off the energy. I grab another cherry from my drink, sucking the end into my mouth before popping it off, and swallowing it. 

“Alright, we have one, untied cherry stem before us.” I hold out the stem for the camera to see. “Now watch as I tie it with no hands.”  I stick out my tongue, placing it in the middle before closing my mouth. 

I rest my elbows on the table, working my tongue around the stem, forcing it into submission to do exactly what I want. 

Within 15 seconds, I pull it through my teeth, and hold up a tied cherry stem. 

“Ta-da! Magic.” I place it on the table as they clap, smiles wide and goofy from their own alcoholic concoctions. 

“She’s single people. And there’s a line forming so shoot your shot.” JJ is the one to speak to the camera, and I giggle, taking another sip. 

Penelope brings her phone down, and within a minute my phone buzzes again, this time with the notification of the video being posted. 

There are worse things to be posted on the internet about me.

“I never knew you could do that, y/n/n.” Pen says, taking a sip from her drink. 

I run a hand through my hair, shrugging. “Didn’t think I needed to put it on my resume. It’s mostly a party trick I use when I like someone. I haven’t used it in years though.”

The unspoken question lingers on the air. 

“No, I never showed Spencer. But I’m sure it’d blow his mind. The way that man applies math and logic to everything he does just solidifies the fact that I know he wouldn’t be able to do it.”

It’s been a while since I’ve joked about him openly, but it wasn’t forced. It didn’t hurt. 

It was just a natural statement.

“Have you guys noticed that something’s up with him? He seems distant lately.” JJ says, leaning in closer so she doesn’t have to talk over the crowd. 

“Okay, so it’s not just me.” I reply, playing with the straw in my drink.

“It’s gotta be something at home. I mean, he doesn’t even remotely act the way that he did when him and Heather first got together.” Emily's eyes look me up and down, reading my body language, but I’m done hiding. 

I let the building anger ripple through me.

“He seems...sad. And not like, normal Reid sad where it has to do with his mom or something, no this is like..” she stops herself from continuing the sentence.

I finish it for her. “It’s like, me, sad.”

JJ sighs. “I hate to say it, but do you think it has anything to do with Heather?”

A glass shatters across the room, and like the red sea, the crowd parts.

Everything happens in no more than a couple seconds, but it feels like a lifetime. 

Through the empty space, I see two people standing at the bar. The woman has her hands wound into the man's shirt, her body turned as she laughs at someone behind her, I’m assuming the one who dropped the glass. 

The man has his hands gripped on her hips, smiling into her hair, before she turns back around, connecting their lips in the most disgusting kiss I have had the displeasure of witnessing.

The rage builds swiftly in my stomach and it pulses from my soul outward. The world’s tint changes and I see red.

“Even if it doesn’t right now, it will.” 

When the hell did I stand up?

They stand with me, and I’m about to argue my point when Emily speaks. “You want something to record, Garcia?” She moves by me, fixing my hair, handing me her glass which holds a swig of her drink left. “Record this.” 

I take it, downing it for a little liquid luck, and start for the bar, the three of them on my heels.

I profile him as best I can in the 20 seconds it takes to get through the now reforming crowd. 

There’s a gold ring on his hand. His pants and shirt are dirty, and his boots are thick. He works in something having to do with construction, which means he’s probably done around 5 every night, and I know for a fact that it is way past that.

I walk up to them, grabbing her shoulder and pulling them apart, stepping in between them, getting face to face to him.

“Before you even think about laying a hand on me, my name is SSA Y/L/N of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the F.B.I. From the look of your clothes and the ring on your finger, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that your wife is waiting for you at home.” 

His hand instinctively falls to his back pocket.

“And since you just reached for what I’m assuming is your phone, she’s called you multiple times tonight. She knows. Now, fuck off and maybe you can salvage things with her, but believe me when I say this,” His breath smells sour. “You aren’t even half the man that she’s married to.” 

He opens his mouth to say something, looking from me, to Heather, to the three women surrounding her, keeping her from leaving, and the camera pointed directly at his face.

He looks back down to me, and huffs, stepping back and walking in the other direction.

For a moment, I stare at where he stood. 

And then a fire ignites in my stomach and it takes everything in me to not beat the girl standing behind me.

I turn, and lightning strikes behind her eyes. 

“You’re not gonna tell him.”

“Like hell I’m not!” I take a step forward, and she takes one back, bumping into Emily who has her arms crossed, and her shoulders raised. “You know, I tried so hard to give you the benefit of the doubt, Heather. You made him happy and I honestly thought you loved him, but I realize now that he deserves someone so much better than you.” 

“Oh what, someone like you?” She’s snide, her demeanor defensive and cocky at the same time. She thinks she’s gonna come out on top of this.

“You know what? Yes. Someone like me. Someone who wouldn’t even think about doing this to him, because the amount of pain that he is about to go through doesn’t even come close to the stupid fucking reward. Oh, so you slept with some douchebag because what? You’re not getting enough attention?” The words are cathartic, leaving my belly with the venom that has been brewing there for the past 2 and half years.

“I found your letter. I was right about you.”

That would have stopped me in my tracks 6 months ago. Now I don’t even flinch.

“Oh honey, it’s not a fucking secret anymore. You want to hear me say it? I love him. I am in love with Spencer fucking Reid, and the only reason that he is with you, is because I was a decent human being and could see that you made him happy, so I kept my mouth shut. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t give a flying fuck what happens now, because whatever it is, it has to be better than being with a lying, cheating bitch like you.”

“You think he’s gonna run to you? Is that what you’re hoping for? He’s not gonna believe you. And even if he did, I’d turn on the water works and make him believe it was just this one time.”

She doesn’t know she’s being filmed. 

I turn to the bartender. “Excuse me, is she a regular here?”

The bartender smirks, wiping down the wood. “Yep. She comes in at least a couple times a week with that dude you kicked to the curb. They almost always leave together.”

Heather scoffs, crossing her arms. “Again, he’ll never believe you.” 

“You sure about that hot stuff?” Penelope steps forward, shoving the camera in her face. “Smile for the camera.”

Heather's eyes go wide, before turning to me. “You wouldn’t dare.” 

“I would do it for a fucking corn chip.” 

I place my hands on my hips, getting so close to her our noses almost touch. My voice is dangerously low when I speak. “Either you tell him everything or I will. And trust me. I have my ways of finding out if you did.”

I step back, wishing the daggers in my eyes could inflict actual pain, as I turn to walk away. 

I hear her shout in frustration before I feel her hands on my back, pushing me forward into the mass of people. 

A couple people unaware of the confrontation help me back up with a smile, thinking I’ve just drunkenly tripped over myself.

Emily and JJ each hold one of my arms, making sure I’m stable, while Penelope keeps filming a look of shock on her face.

A wicked smile forms on my face.

I was hoping she’d do something like that.

I turn and my fist connects with her face, a nice cracking noise satisfying the lust building in my chest, as a thin coat of blood covers my knuckles. 

Though, it’s not my blood. 

She’s holding her nose in pain as she falls to the floor, taking down a bar stool with her, and I swear I see the bartender laugh.

I grab a napkin off the bar, wiping my knuckles before throwing it on the floor by her feet. 

“C’mon girls. The night is still young.” 

I see them cover their own smiles with their hands, and Penelope starts to giggle the shock away. 

I know I should feel bad. It was unprofessional of me. 

But she shoved me first. 

It is, legally, self-defense. 

Is it sick that I wish she would have punched me?

It doesn’t matter anyway. I know she won’t press charges. She’s smart enough to know she just dug her grave.

And now she has to lie in it.

~~~~

The atmosphere is different when I walk into the office the next morning. 

It’s tense. 

And one look from JJ and an inhale of air tells me why. 

Spencer’s here. 

I barely have time to set my bag down on my desk, before he grabs me suddenly by the arm, dragging me into a nearby conference room.

The anger is rolling off of him in waves, and I can see by the way he clenches and unclenches his fists, he is pissed.

He almost throws me into the room, slamming the door behind him. 

“You want to tell me why the fuck you punched Heather in the face for no damn reason?”

Stupid, stupid girl. 

Did she not think, that the way I would find out, would be from Spencer himself?

I can’t help but shake my head and laugh. “She didn’t tell you.”

“She told me that she was having a drink with a girlfriend of hers when you came up drunk, yelling at her, until you just punched her. Can you explain that to me?”

He’s finally yelling at me. After months of begging for him to yell at me, he finally is. 

It doesn’t feel as good as I had hoped it would.

I don’t say anything, just pull out my phone to find the video that Garcia sent me.

“Are you serious right now, Y/N? Put your fucking phone down and explain to me why you broke my wife's nose!”

I sit in a chair, setting the phone on the table and sliding it towards him. I lean back and cross my hands over my stomach.

“Watch the video, Spencer.”

“Why? Why should I listen to anything you tell me?”

I lean forward, onto my elbow, annunciating every syllable. “Watch the damn video.”

He stands, and I watch as he fights with himself, before huffing in defeat, sitting in a chair and pulling my phone towards him.

He presses play.

I watch as his anger flows away with each passing second, despair taking its place. 

This is what I wasn’t looking forward to. Seeing him see it for the first time.

Watching him break. 

It wasn’t pretty.

I watch as tears form in his eyes and silently drop down his cheeks. 

He clenches his jaw as he watches her shove me, and the punch that followed. 

The room is dead quite when the video ends.

I’m the one who speaks first, my voice soft. 

“I punched her, because she had the audacity to do this. She had the audacity to hurt you, and flaunt that fact publicly.” 

I swallow, taking a breath before speaking. 

“I meant everything I said in that video, Spence.” 

He looks up at the nickname, his anger no longer directed at me.

“She hurt you, and I saw red. I didn’t think about what I was doing, and frankly, I’m glad I didn’t. I don’t regret standing up for you. I never have, and I never will.”  I clasp my hands together, forcing myself to continue. 

“I love you Spencer. I don’t think that’s ever going to change. I’m going to have to live with you finding other people and falling in love, and I promise you, I will support you in that. But not with her. Not after that. You deserve so much better than a girl who thinks she can get away with this just because she’s pretty and jealous.”

He taps a couple things on my phone, before turning the screen off and sliding it back over to me. 

He stands. 

I don’t. I continue talking as he walks over to me.

“You mean everything to me, Spence. If I know you’re happy, truly happy, then I’m satisfied. I will defend you until the end of the universe comes. You are my best friend, and I love you. And I’m sorry I was never upfront about it before, but I am now.”

I look up at him as he stands in front of me. “I’m done hiding from you.”

He’s still for a moment. 

He reaches down and grabs my hands, pulling me up before he wraps his arms around my waist and buries himself into my neck. 

I pause, but only for a moment, before wrapping my arms around him and holding him tight against me. 

I can feel the wet spots on my neck as he cries, and his hands wind themselves into the fabric of my shirt.

When was the last time he was held like this?

I don’t count the time until he loosens his grip, stepping back from me and wiping his face. 

I would hold him until the end of time if he let me.

“Thank you.” He whispers, before moving towards the door. 

He opens it and walks out, and I grab my phone, running after him.

I stop in the doorway. 

“Hey!” 

He stops and turns, and the rest of the team is watching over their files. 

My heart is pounding, and I feel out of breath.

“I don’t have a choice,” I let him remember. “But I still choose you.”

A small smile flutters across his face, before he turns and walks away.

I look down at my phone.

Spence xp

[Video]

    Sent, 9:06 a.m.

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[artificiallyimplantedmemories]

[ ooc: ep 4 liveblog & opinions under the cut! this one got long winded because I had a lot that I was thinking about (and it took me twice the length of the episode to actually watch through it because I kept pausing to type oops) ]

yeeeesh that’s one way to start. thank you for letting bucky cry.

but also the look of pride on her face when she says “you are free” they’ve been working so hard and she’s so happy with the progress bucky has made ;_;

and now she’s so betrayed :(

but I’m also so glad Bucky learned xhosa that’s super important! <3 part of decolonization of the past involves respecting and learning and propagating languages and cultures that have been trodden over. Wakanda has been something of a safe place in that regard, and are now doing the outreach to help their continent and the world, but it takes the world of people within the majority putting in the effort and learning and embracing those cultures and languages (without appropriation, which I know is a fine line to walk sometimes) in order to really make progress. once it is no longer alien, it is also no longer scary, and can be held in proper esteem.

“sweet of you” shut your mouth Zemo xD

“she’s just a kid” thank you for your compassion Sam. and while she’s an extremist, I’m not sure whether Karli counts as a supremacist or just a terrorist? maybe she counts as genocidal if she’s truly trying to restore things to Blip conditions but it’s kind of unclear.

“the serum never corrupted Steve” “touché” YO EVEN HE ADMITS IT

Sam’s understanding of cultural habits (and there are many overlaps between various cultures and the ways they mourn) is such an asset here, and I’m glad that they’re pulling a contrast between the tech-driven, cold, calculating predictions made by certain people and organizations in other parts of Marvel and the general sort of soulful and instinctive approach here

Turkish delight. Excuse me but Narnia cemented the idea in so many people’s heads that it is this magical thing but it’s like superglue in your mouth. It is not irresistible, Zemo.

Legislation and social change as a result of violent action is nothing new. Every peaceful protest has been backed up by some kind of harm, whether it be economic, like a boycott, or physical, either damage to property or lives. I think instinctively people understand this, but it’s good to see it put in the spotlight.

Sam is “stranger danger” to these kids :/

“I know what happens when people say they’re going to help out... nothing.” Ouch.

The way Sam’s gaze falls at that too, because he knows theoretically that a lot of these injustices are happening and can empathize, but practically hearing it hurts. He doesn’t like not being trusted either, but I think he can probably understand why.

Zemo playing that psychology game! Kids love food and the idea that he must be a good person just for having a kid is dumb as hell but something that kids would gravitate towards. Smart man. Doubly smart for not telling them, Nat would approve if she didn’t hate him :P

Sam de-escalating is gonna be a trend I can just see it.

Cherry blossom tea? Interesting choice.

SHARON HI 

Nat vc: gosh it’s nice to see someone competent around here. 

ooooh they’re really reinforcing the idea of Captain America being a figurehead that inspires people

“heroes these days don’t have the luxury of keeping their hands clean” yeah well it’s because Steve had people like Bucky and Nat do do his dirty work, but sure

“all the people history just left out” OW

okay first of all Sam being the one who is insisting on reasoning with them because he knows what it’s like to come from an oppressed people !!! he knows grief and trauma !!! he can do this !!!!! I just know Walker is gonna fuck it up for them :P

second, Walker trying to emotionally manipulate Bucky? it’s a testament to how far he’s come that he doesn’t punch the guy immediately lol

Hoskins being the voice of reason as a foil for Walker again what?! this version of Lamar isn’t nearly as terrible as I expected.

Zemo calling that itty bitty girl his associate xD He really does understand the people here though... aaaand he’s getting handcuffed. Totally didn’t see that coming (he’ll probably break free anyway)

The conversation between Karli & Sam ;_; 

“you’re either brilliant or hopelessly optimistic” “por quo no los dos.gif”

Walker trying to guilt Bucky again god he’s so dumb. I appreciate the fact that he’s ruthless but he’s so narrow minded in how he approaches problems. oh no I have an issue let’s punch it until it dies! come on man.

Karli is so heartbreakingly naive and that’s becoming more and more obvious. I love Sam opening her up like this wow.

WALKER FUCKING IT UP AS ALWAYS

and the cuffs empty WHAT DID I TELL YOU

god we were getting somewhere ;____;

oh good just what we need, serum in Walker’s hands. he was already awful he doesn’t need to be more awful gdi

“we separate them and then we kill Captain America” ...yes, we’re listening xD

I know crazy because I am crazy... oh boy we got some internalized stuff, but let’s play it off

still a little blame game going in terms of where the shield ended up I see

THE DORA MILAJE ARE HERE -swoon-

pOINTY STICKS I cackled oh boy he gonna get his ass WHOOPED

Sam is enjoying the hell out of this

Zemo watching and drinking

“Looking strong, John!” “Bucky”

oooh dear they tangling and Zemo’s getting away.

your arm’s off! no it’s not

WAIT WHAT DID AYO SAY BEFORE SHE SAID JAMES

they all got their asses kicked ah well. also the look on Walker’s face says he gonna serum himself up, the lil fucker. oh no someone’s better than you how will your ego ever survive.

a lil Battlestar logo!!! shut up that’s cute. they’re really making him halfway likeable here.

“power just makes a person more of themselves”

ohhhh okay time to unlock Walker’s traumatic backstory. at least he feels bad about the things he did. at least he knows that those medals of honor are covered in blood. people are at least partly made by their circumstances, and I wonder what he was like before the war. the only indication we have of it is him being a football star, and while I may not have had the best track record with those in my youth, that doesn’t mean there aren’t decent ones out there...

Sarah’s “my world doesn’t matter to America, so why should I care about its mascot?” Oh, we’re speaking to the disenfranchisement of marginalized people hardcore today okay. if anyone’s gotten this far in my overly long commentary I want you to know that this is the realest alright? it’s hard to be proud of a country and its symbols when it doesn’t do right by you, when the majority doesn’t do right by you. am I glad I was born here? sure. are there worse places to be? sure. am I proud to be an american? oof, man, don’t ask me that.

Karli is not pulling her punches, she’s threatening the whole fam. Sam isn’t gonna like that... He sounds like he’s trying to suppress panic instead of being angry on the phone call with Sarah. I think he understands what Karli is trying to do, even though he hates how. And he’s worried, because he’s always gonna be worried. Poor guy. And there’s the confrontation.

Sharon got their backs!

Oof, seeing the gun with the shield.

Gunshot, run, oh, listening, he’s already got the serum, maybe? Given how deeply that shield is embedded in the wall I’m gonna say yes. YUP I WAS RIGHT.

Something about the water dripping and Lemar’s face makes me think he may have been waterboarded at some point :( but maybe he’s just in a lot of pain.

THE KNIFE CATCH. YES YES YES. THE KNIFE FLIP. Nat is so hearteyes.

Ooh, we gotta upgrade that wingpack with Stark repulsors pls go Sam go

oh no. Lemar. fuck. FUCK.

oh good now you’ve done it. killing a guy as Captain America. fuck.

the blood on the shield as the last shot! ~cinematography~

hoooo I’m chilled. I knew something along these lines was coming but oof. 

[chemicalarospec]

Nearly four years ago today, on November 8th, 2016, I was playing iCivics games on my family’s old black Dell Windows 7 laptop, now defunct, while the election results rolled in on television. There was an air of celebration in our living room with the first female president of the United States on the horizon.

The night went on. The results kept coming. I played all the games on iCivics. I was getting tired. Things weren’t called yet, but I couldn’t stay up much longer.

I went to bed on November 8th 2016, facing a bright future, a progressive future. The future I dreamed of and wished for and seemed right, right to be, right to be now.

Nearly four years ago today, on November 9th, 2016, I woke up. “Trump won,” my dad told me, standing outside my bedroom door. “He won the election.” It was too early to process; I was still in the groggy state where nothing feels real. Clinton winning had been too good to be true. I wasn’t shocked, but I rarely have strong surprise reactions.

I lost my faith in adults, in people, in my own government far too young. My father said that the average person is stupider than you think they are. My maternal grandfather said he lost his faith in democracy, seeing how it worked out here and across the world, especially his native Taiwan. My paternal grandmother said, “I used to think that you can can believe whatever you want, so long as it doesn’t hurt me or anyone I care about -- so long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, really. Now I’m not sure about that.” I still think about that.

I lost my faith far too young. My faith in everything.

Children think adults are superheros with all the answers. They think, or at least children in places like me, think the government is a warm maternal figure, caring for us as we care for it in return. The government will change as society changes, and of course society is changing. Of course society is going where your parents want it to. Of course the world is kind to people it should be kind to.

Society works because everybody puts in their part, and of course, of course, everybody puts in their part.

Surely everybody puts in their part?

Surely everybody cares?

I don’t like saying much about my age, but for a vague guide, I wasn’t wearing real bras when my worldview was shattered, and I wouldn’t for a while longer.

I didn’t get to have a slow realization while growing up and entering the world. I didn’t get to gain an understanding of the bubble I lived in and my childish naiveté. Instead, the world banged on my door and thrust the truth into my face, yelling, “Fvck you. Fvck you and your dreams and people like you and everything you want from your childhood and your time now. The world is a dirty, disgusting place and we don’t want to change. There are systems of power and they will never give you what you deserve.”

It wasn’t just the election, not really. Mainly through reading Tumblr blogs, I learned that the systems are rigged and nobody cares because the laws are rigged. I started reading TIME magazine around the same time and was exposed to the #metoo movement. Flint’s water crisis loomed large at that time. The Pulse nightclub shooting. I still remember the cover for that one: every name and age in a column of red text, annotated only by a question -- “Why did they die?”

They insist atheists like me are amoral. They refuse to make space for mixed-race people like me. They alienate Asians like me, and especially now, with COVID-19, they taunt people like me and they yell slurs at people like me and they beat people like me up. They kill queer kids like me, bully us far past the point of inhumanity. They steal the bodies of girls like me. They shoot youths like me up.

They are so much worse to others and it makes my heart ache. I support and elevate those who have it worse than me, but I never forget that I am not a “perfect” person either, not in the eyes of normality -- the collective experiences of my identities weigh upon me even when I do not experience direct discrimination. Too many people deserve so much more -- too much -- than what the world resigns to allow them.

The year is 2020. The world has changed. I have changed. It is November 3, and I am sitting on the other side of my family’s couch. The election results are slowly, slowly beginning to roll in. Instead of slivers of progress, they look like stats in a sick game where my well-being and others’ lives are the stakes. I am making a Tumblr post, with plans to bake cupcakes for my mom when I’m done.

And, of course, play iCivics games on my school-issued white MacBook Air late into the night. 

What did we learn from this, children? What moral or message do we take from this story of pain, betrayal, and slim, bleak hope? Why did I want to share this tale?

You tell me. I have cupcakes to make.

(No I genuinely don’t know please tell me.)

[scandeniall]

dream big baby

pairing:  Tōru Oikawa x reader

Where Oikawa is leaving soon and you spend your last few days together. Inspired by ‘My Wish’ by Rascal Flatts 

warnings: manga spoilers, profanity, the author’s note talks about some important things.

wc: 2060

7 days until takeoff

“How’s the packing going?” You eye the messy bedroom, from the doorway. It looks like a tornado has gone through it. Buried under the covers is a familiar brunette who looks like he’s doing the opposite of packing. Then you spot another man, sitting on a desk chair just playing on his phone. 

“Hey Iwaizumi, What’s Oikawa doing.” Your question causes a chuckle to erupt. “He said and I quote, fuck packing I’m napping.” You sigh stepping in and over the open suitcase that had clothes thrown on top and not actually folded. “He knows he’s moving halfway across the world in like a week right.” You shift your focus over to the lump in the bed, slightly shaking the man. “Tōru, c’mon wake up love. 

“I said I’d wake him up when you got here.” You nod, as Oikawa doesn’t even budge at your light shaking. “Did he even get anything done.” Your gaze follows Iwaizumi’s finger as it points to a single duffel bag. “Volleyball stuff.” You move out the way smirking as your friend aims a foam volleyball at Oikawa to wake him up. You won it on some carnival date, opting to give it to Oikawa as your way of displaying interest in his passions. The ball hits his back with a thump that causes the groggy setter to sit up. “Iwa, you said I could take a nap.”

“Yeah, until (Y/N) got here. Now it’s time to get off your ass so you can actually pack.” The mention of your name, caused Oikawa to turn towards your figure sitting on his bed. “Hey lovely,” you lean in to meet his waiting lips in a greeting. Once you pull away you stand up reaching for his hand. “C’mon. Me and Iwa are both here to help you.” The former ace sighs agreeing, not that he genuinely minded. “I’m gonna sell everything you leave here. How much do you think your old jersey will be worth.”

“Sell it or, sleep with it every night because you’re gonna miss me that much.”

“You can’t go to Argentina soon enough Shittykawa.”

5 days until take off

“Go Oikawa,” you cheer, watching the now graduated third years play a pickup game along with some of the underclassmen. You're sitting on the top of his car along with one of your friends. “Is he excited?” You release a content sigh before nodding. “He is. Tries to hide just how excited, but I see through it.” “Whew! Nice kill Iwa,” you shift your phone’s camera to the guys, panning over the park area. ‘Last game with the boys :(’. The two of you continue talking, occasionally yelling over at some other friends from their spots on their cars. As the boys take a break, you hand Oikawa his bottle of water. One you had gotten him over a year ago. Filled with random stickers that he frowned at when you first started putting them on the bottle. Now, he refuses to go out without it. “How are you guys getting your asses kicked this bad. You've only been out of school a month. Don’t tell me you boys lost it already”

“Kindaichi wasn’t that good at blocking a month ago,” Oikawa insists

“Maybe we could’ve gone to nationals if he was.” The tease from Hanamaki causes your group to laugh. Sure that reality was painful at the moment, but time heals wounds. Your presence around your quiet boyfriend was all that he needed. Just knowing you were there was enough. Despite the devastation, the stars ultimately aligned. Fresh graduates and now all of you are going your separate ways to pursue your own dreams.

“Hey let's take a picture. Just us old third years. For the memories,” you say hopping off the car and gathering around your friends and before calling one of the other boys over. “Hey Kindaichi, come take our picture.”

“Why are we taking it on your phone, I’m the one leaving first”

“Aw, Toru you're going to miss us. I’m touched,” The wipe of a fake tear is met with a scoff as your boyfriend’s arm pulls you towards him, his arm falling over your shoulder. The picture has Mattsun and Makki jokingly mocking the two of you, with Iwaizumi and your friend both in the center, acting as the only normal ones. It becomes Oikawa’s phone background. 

3 days until takeoff

Your eyes flutter shut at the night sky, inhaling the night air. It would be peaceful, had it not been for the bickering of your friends beside you.”Iwa I don’t know why you wouldn’t still love me if I were an alien.”

“Because you're a fucking alien idiot. Not human.”

“But what if I’m an alien disguised as a human. I can help bring humans and aliens together.”

You sit up at that comment, looking between the two, eyebrows raised. “So you want two species to hate you.” The two guys pause, looking at one another before bursting out in laughter. Their laughter causes you to laugh as well as you marvel at Oikawa.The moon reflects in his eyes, and his laugh is genuine. Its one that reaches his eyes, and it's a version of Oikawa that took you awhile to unearth.The one hidden behind the cocky comments, and condescending smiles. The one that cares deeply for his friends, and is actually kind of funny. “You're so mean to me (Y/N).” The way he reaches for your hand to intertwine your fingers shows that he's anything but serious. The three of you settle into a silence, focusing your attention on the night sky.

“Oi, Oikawa. Promise me something.” The two of you eye your friend, before nodding. “When you get to Argentina, don’t stop helping others alright. Keep pushing them to do their best.”

“Of course. I'm going to beat everyone after all.”

“Good. Now don’t fuck up out there.”

1 day until takeoff

“You know I love you right.” Fingers gently brush up and down your arm. You only look up, from your spot on Oikawa’s chest. “You’re not breaking up with me now that you're gonna go be some hot shot volley boy.” “Of course not. Just wanted to let you know.” You nod before returning the sentiment. The two of you had been cuddled up for the latter half of the day. After getting breakfast with a few of his friends, he invited you over to spend his last full night with.

There was a weird and indescribable feeling in the air. A tension due to not knowing what's next. He felt it, and you felt it. You wondered who would’ve been the first to crack, and it looks like it's you. “I’m proud of you Toru.” The hand that was trailing came to a stop as he sighed. “I’m gonna miss you a lot.” You tease about missing yourself to be met with a groan about trying to be serious. 

“What are we going to do (Y/N)?” You sit up so that the two of you are sitting side by side. “What do you mean? You're going to chase your dreams and I’ll be right here in your corner. Always.” The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed causing you to reach for his hand. 

“Oikawa look at me.” The firmness of your voice even catches you off guard. You could tell by the smirk on his face that he had a fleeting thought of saying something dirty before choosing not to. “Stop worrying so much and focus on all though dreams you have locked away in that giant ego of yours-“

“Hey!”

“It’s time to close this door baby and open another one. Fortunately for you, me and even Iwa are coming through this door with you.” He nods as one of his hands rests on your cheek. You lean forward stopping right before your lips meet “Fortunately for me or fortunately for you two” At that a pillow against his head ends up being the only thing he meets. 

0 Days until takeoff

The somber drive causes you to sniffle. He’s really leaving you. No it’s no forever, and yes you had plans to visit in a few months but it’s not the same. Who’s going to call you up at 3 am to drag you to McDonalds because he’s hungry and a Iwaizumi blocks his number at night. Or motivates you to actually be productive by using his weird reverse psychology intimidation strategy. Or to force you to watch any alien movie that comes out, even the really bad low budget ones and talk shit about them with you. 

“I’m glad Iwa didn’t cry. I don't think I could've handled you both going soft on me.” His own tone is laced in sadness, his grip on the suitcase tighter than it usually would’ve been. Nonetheless you appreciate his attempt. “You’re a dick, you know that.” The two of you walk alongside the relatively empty airport. You were only slightly glad he had an early morning flight, because your exhaustion was one of the only things helping you keep your composure. You were too sleepy to really cry, at least right now. 

“You didn’t say that last night,” he sticks his own tongue out causing you to roll his eyes. “I can't believe you’re really going to Argentina idiot,” the words come out in a watery laugh before you can even stop them. “I’m so proud of you though.”

“Baby,” the sudden halt and your words are further interrupted by being pulled into a tight embrace. The slight dampness on your shoulder letting you know he had started tearing up too. The two of you stand there a few moments before he pulls away, a calmer look in his eyes. “If Iwa saw us right now he’d be disgusted. Now cheer up.” You laugh in agreement, leaning up for a kiss. 

“Before I forget, here” you hand him an envelope and he just looks, before taking it with a wave of his hand. “A love letter. What are you? A fan?” The tease is laced with adoration as he presses a kid against the crown of your hair. “It’s everything I couldnt think to say aloud shittykawa. Don’t open it up I leave though. It’s embarrassing,” you groan placing your hands on his chest. “How cute.” His lips come back down towards yours, this time more forceful. The hands that were hanging at his side now interlocked against your waist pulling you closer to him. All thoughts of the two of you being in some random airport hallway gone as your tongue finds its way into his mouth and you Before aware of his tightening grip on your waist. 

“A love letter. And a goodbye kiss like that. My lucky day huh,” Oikawa pants out, eyes shining. 

“Only because you're leaving,” you smile, breathing heavier as well. “Imagine when we see each other again in a few months.” His laugh causes you to smile even more. “That thought is the only thing going to get me through”

——

The text is the first thing you wake up. 

“I read your letter and I just wanted to tell you that I’m so fucking in love with you. I miss you already and I can't wait to hear your pretty voice. Hope you slept well (without me) and call me when you wake up. Love you”

-----

Dear Shittykawa,

First off I love you. I’m so proud of you for chasing your dreams. Never ever forget your pride because it’s your biggest weapon baby. Now I have a few wishes for you. I hope that life becomes all that you want it to. You may suck on the outside but you deserve it. I hope that Your dreams stay big, and  your worries stay small. Whenever you feel overwhelmed, call me or Iwa or your mom. I don’t care. Anytime of the day or night and I’ll be there. You never need to carry more than you can hold. Lastly I hope you know that someone (aka me) loves you more than all the stars in the sky. I want great things for you.  So while you’re busy doing great things. Remember that. See you in 4 months my love. 

-(Y/N)

A/N:  Ok hi guys this authors note is really just here to please ask you all to support black lives matter. Please keep up with the news because this time it’s different. They are continuing to kill us. Support your black friends. Check in on them mentally. Use your privilege to make a difference. Those pledges you keep seeing? SIGN THEM. DONATE if you can (but not to change/./com). EDUCATE yourself on what you can do. This is becoming a culmination of hundreds of years of hurt and oppression. In a better generational perspective: from Rodney King and the LA riots in the 90s to YESTERDAY where a black peaceful protester was shot and killed. 19 years old. Couldn't even legally buy a drink and theyre dead. We’re tired of dying. We’re tired of that thought in the back of our mind of “this could be me or my loved one. Just another hashtag” so please when all the major coverage of this stops don’t just brush this under the rug. Keep sharing smaller news coverage, tweets, etc. and lastly; please STOP with the “I’m glad I’m not in America” type of comments because i guarantee you. Your country is racist as hell too. It’s just not caught on camera and you as a non black person don’t notice it. If you choose to stay silent, you’ve picked your side. . Anyways if you read this thank you!

[sapphicomenn]

WELCOME TO MY THOUGHTS WHILE REWATCHING THE MCU IN TIMELINE ORDER: THE AVENGERS

“the tesseract has awakened” oh you mean the glowy cube from captain america AND captain marvel? THAT glowly cube?? cool looking stairs- ew who tf are you? the grim reaper??

what the fuck is a chitauri and why does it sound like sea food. “a world will be his. the universe, yours.” STOP BLAMING THE PRONOUN GAME AND GIVE ME NAMES FFS

ooo shield base. “not a drill.” oh shits going down- COULSON. FUURRRYYY FUCK YEAH. the best marvel characters are here the movie has peaked- oldman from thor is here?? intoresting. and who the hell is this woman tryna question fury??

the glowy cube is a shE???????? HUH??????? oh hey its hawkeye the badass archer guy. oh shit things are going down. the cube is sparking and swirling??- IT OPENED A PORTAL

LOKKIII YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD WELCOME BACK. HE HAS A SHOOTY MAGIC SPEAR LIKE A BADASS. he just took out a bunch or shield with a shooty spe- OHMYGODS HE CAN CONTROL MINDS WITH IT.

“loki. brother of thor.” OLDMAN STFU

GUNS GO PEW PEW ALONG SIDE A GOOD OLD CAR CHASE SKSHSKKSHS. RUN FURY RUNNN. the portal imploded on itself like a moron hA

WHO TF NAMES THEIR CHILD “HILL” WTF. “we are at war.” NO SHIT SHERLOCK A NORSE GOD STOLE THE CUBE YOU WERE SUPPOST TO PROTECT

tis a train and a old building- NATASHA. how tf were you taken hostage? im so glad i have subtitles on otherwise i wouldnt understand a thing these ppl are saying. HOW TF IS SHE KICKING ASS WHILE TIED TO A CHAIR WHAT IN THE HELL-

oh his leg deff broke once he fell off the ledge tied to a chain. cut to a lil gorl running to find a doctor- who tf this is of course. THIS GUY IS BANNER??? i mean im glad they changed the actor but wtf. “theres no one that knows gamma radiation like you do.” YA DONT SAY, ROMANOFF. “STOP LYING TO ME” JESUS FUCK THAT MADE ME JUMP

oh damn shield has their own O5 council? cool. EXPLAIN WHAT PHASE2 IS ALREADY. also dont say thor is bad he is a giant puppy dog with a war-boner.

oh hi steve, working off that PTSD by beating the shit out of a punching bag ay? oh right steve knows the glowy cube. “at this point i doubt anything would surprise me.” “ten bucks says you’re wrong” welp ya owe him ten bucks steve

“is there anything you can tell us about the tesseract to help us now?” “you should’ve left it in the ocean.” WELL THAT HELPS ALOT DOESNT IT. hello there iron man, at the bottom of the ocean.? sure why the hell not

aye stark tower’s about to have clean energy, yay stark! “stark tower, is your baby.” how do you give birth to a tower.???????? KSHSJSHSKSJS COULSON BROKE INTO THE TOWER “is first name is agent.” TONY SKSHKSSHKSVSKSHSKS

*whisper whisper whisper* yeah she bribed tony with sex so he’d work on the avengers and stuff. “the guys like a stephen hawking.” “. . .” “hes like a smart person”

awh coulson is fangirling over steve- watched you while you were sleepin- man you’re awkward. you adorable dumbass. ohshit underground musky lab- OLDMAN AND LOKI

the world is breaking around loki. sea food army is restless- shut the fuck up you stupid looking eye wrapped bastard. WHO THE HELL IS THIS HE?????? welcome back to earth you smexy man

FLOATING WATER BASE

back to avenger tingz. man coulson is the biggest cap fan- oh its a giant sub- NO ITS A GIANT FLYING BASE HOLYSHIT SHIELD THATS AMAZING.

now we go into the meetings and talking related stuff :I yey. “lets vanish” wdym- IT HAD A CLOAKING DEVICE. HA STEVE JUST GAVE THE TEN HE OWED SKSHSKHSKSJS

i dont understand a word of all the science stuff they just said but yay. “i need a distraction. and an eyeball” barton what the fuck why do you need an eye.?

oh lokis in germany, at a very fancy party might i add. loki is best boy ever. even if he just bonked a the head/ OHMYGOD AND STOLE HIS FUCKING EYE JESUS CHRIST INFRONT OF ALL THOSE PEOPLE.??????

“i said. KNEEEEL” dont need to tell me twice-

blagh villain speeches are the worst. why tf did this old guy stand up “not to men like you.” shut up. SHOOT HIM- wtf. steve what the hell are you wearing? what the fuck is that- aye tonnnyyy!!!! he hacked into the jet thingy and started playing music from the speaker thats the best.

CAPSICLE SKSHSKSHKSHSKSJ- ohfuck thunder. THOR WELCOME TO THE PARTY. “im not overly fond of what follows” WKVSKSBSKSHSJS

HE JUST BROKE INTO THE JET AND STOLE LOKI FROM EM. “theres only one god ma’am. and im sure he doesnt dress like that.” cap stfu

“i thought you were dead.” “did you mourn.” damn loki thats harsh. thor is angy at his brother. “you listen well brot-ARGH” “..im listening?” STARK YOU CHOSE THAT MOMENT TO BODY SLAM THOR OFF THAT CLIFF AND LEAVE LOKI BEHIND? REALLY?

“.. tourist.” FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT KICK HIS ASS, THOR. DONT KILL HIM WITH LIGHTNING THO

if someone throwed me against a tree i wouldnt be walking. im just saying

“THATS ENOUGH.” cap did you think that would work?? and how the hell did your dinner plate stop the power of thor

loki do be in jail tho. how’s this gonna go wrong- oh he smiled at banner. THATS how it goes wrong

tell him off fury! “you have made me very disapoin-“ OH NVM HE SAYS DESPERATE IGNORE THIS

“uNlimiteD pOoWeRRRRR”

“let me know if real power wants a magazine or something.” good comeback fury. i think

“loki is beyond reason, but he is of asgard. and he is my brother” “he killed 80 people in two days.” “he’s adopted.” KSBSKSJSJSJSK

“that man is playing galaga. he thought we wouldnt notice, but we did.” TONYKANSKSHKSJSKSJ tony is a fucking legend. “finally someone who speaks english!” “is that what just happened?” steve stfu you’re a fighty man not a smart man

“i do! . . . i understood that reference.” steve nvm keep talking please. PLEASE THE MAN IS STILL PLAYING GALAGA SOSJSKSJSJKS

why is tony eating blueberrys- where the hell did he get blueberrys. “we have orders. we should start following them.” steve you tried to get into the army under fake locations for months AND broke into a german base when you were a showpony. stfu about following rules

“so you’re saying the hulk.. the other guy? saved me” yes. yes we are saying that, banner. aye steve go break into shit like you’re suppost to :D

oh hi again oldman, welcome back. yay shield saved padme, and awh oldman talked about thor alot. thor i love you alot. loki just tell nat where tf you left barton :/ oh barton was sent to KILL nat?? not hire her?? well that went downhill. whomst the hell is dreykov- sao paulo- the hospital fire???? hawkeye wtf why’d you spill it all to loki.

mewley quim wtf kind of insult is that- oh damn nat figured out the hulk is lokis next plan of attack. PHASE TWO IS TO USE THE GLOWY CUBE TO MAKE FUCKING WEAPONS? SHIELD WHAT THE HELL

HA FURY TRIED TO LIE IS WAY OUTTA IT BUT BC STARK HACKED INTO IT ALL HE JUST EXPOSED HIMSKHSKSJSKS

WAIT THEY WERE MADE FOR THOR AND ASGARDIANS? WHAT THE FUCK SHIELD- oh damn lokis staff is the reason they’re all at eachother. probably

“yeah. big man in a suit of armor. take that off what are you?.” “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.” well you’re not wrong

guys stop fighting, HAWKEYE IS BREAKING IN. “in case you needed to kill me. but you cant. i know, i tried.” awh thats sad, i wanna hug banner so bad :(

OHSHIT AN ENTIRE WING GOT BLOWN UP THE FLYING BASE IS GOING DOWN- HULKS COMING OUT THATS NOT GOOD. the transforming is scary- RUN NAT

loki stop smiling because the plan is going your way. “it seems to run on some form of electricity.” “well you’re not wrong” tony stop being funny this isnt fair

HULK JUMPSCARE JESUS CHRIST- NAT GOT BITCHSLAPPED THROUGH A WALL- YAY THOR TO SAVE THE DAY. HAMMER TIME BABYY

*B O N K*

hulk trying to pick the hammer up is funny. BRIDGE IS UNDER ATTACK. DO YOU THINK SHOOTING HULK IS A GOOD IDEA??? HE JUST TOOK OUT FIGHTER JET AND ALMOST KILLED THE GUY FLYING IT

CAP IS KICKING ASS- OH GOD NO THE ENGINES ARE FAILING. OHGOD LOKI IS OUT- THOR YOU DUMBFUCK DID YOU FORGET LOKI CAN DO MAGIC SHIT? NOW YOU’RE STUCK IN THE GLASS CONTAINER

COULSON SAVE THOR! SHOOT LOKI DAMNIT- COULSON NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

glass cage go brrrrr

HA LOKI GOT FUCKIN SHOT BY COULSON BEFORE HE DIES( :( ) tony almost got minced by the engine thingys

im gonna cry coulson how dare your death make me sad :(( stupid heart breaking aftermath moments.

thor is stuck in a field, banner fell through the roof of a building. awh the security guard is so nice :) barton is a fucking mess right now “how’d you get him out?” “i hit you on the head really hard.” KSJSKKSSK

tony figured out lokis plan- ITS TAKING PLACE AT HIS TOWER? THE AVENGERS IS TAKING ACTION BABY LETS GOOOO

wait a fucking moment, the cards coulson has are covered in blood. so you’d think they were on him when he was stabbed- yet hill just said they were in his locker “they needed the push.” FURY YOU RUINED NEAR MINT VINTAGE COLLECTABLE CARDS TO MOTIVATE SUPER FREAKS???

o hi loki welcome to stark tower

“stalling wont change-“ “no no, threatening. no drink? ya sure? im having one.”

“i have an army.” “we have a hulk.” HE SAID IT, HE SAID THE LINE

HA LOKI CANT TAKE STARKS MIND BC HIS HEART IS SOME TECHY METAL CRAPKSJSKSJSKS- i guess choking and tossing him around works. so does throwing hik out a window

oh no the glowy cube just opened a portal for the army of seafood. they look like creatures from halo.

BROTHER FIGHT

CHAOS EVERYWHERE

PLANE DOWN PLANE DOWN

what the fuck just growled- HOLYSHIT THEY HAVE A SPACE LEVIATHAN. it looks badass ngl. loki redemption arc? nope he just stabbed thor.

SPACE BIKE GO BRRRRR

yes because arrows and guns will stop the, alien monsters with lazer arms. some how its working. “just like budapest all over again.” “you and i remember budapest very differently.” WTF HAPPENED AT BUDAPEST BARTON AND NAt, HUH?

cap just scared the shit outta some police men HAHA

“i have unfinished business with loki.” “yeah? get in line” barton is snarky right now. banner just rides up on a motercycle like “hi what i’d miss”

“im bringing the party to you.” stark says while being chased by a giant metal space whale who’s crashing and crushing everything in its path along a street

“thats my secret cap. im always angry.” FUCK YEAH BANNER MESS THAT SPACE WHALE UP. HE JUST PUNCHED A GIANT FUCKING WHALE THING.

the music, the avengers circling around. its amazing. well things are gonna get worse bc more space whales showed up

“and hulk. . . smash.”

LIGHT THEM FUCKERS UP, THOR. shield maybe instead of watching, maybe, oh i dont know. HELP THEM???

i dont know what else to say other then its alot of fighting and smashing alien faces into the ground

hulk and thor kicking ass on the back of a space whale is awesome. HULK WHY DID YOU PUNCH HIMSJSOSHSKJSKSJSKSKSKSK

i fuxking love when steve turtle shells behind his shield.

“director fury. the council has made a decision.” “i recognize the council has made a decision. but given its a stupid-ass decision, i have elected to ignore it.” fury never stop being awesome

loki thought he was so smug when he caught bartons arrow, then it blew up in his face. literally IKSKSKSKSKS

HULK FUCK LOKI UP! JSHSKSGKSHSJSHSJSJ HE JUST TOSSED LOKI AROUND LIKE A RAGDOLL “puny god.” “*pained wheezing from a smooshed loki*”

oh damn- OH DAMN, STARK. he just jonahed the fucking whale thing and blew it up from the inside. well now the city has a nuke coming for it :/

yall have a chance to shut the portal down, and tony, you want to go INTO that portal and throw the nuke in? wtf stark.

TONY GO BACK TO EARTH DAMNIT FUCKING BASTARD PASSED OUT. yay hulk saved his stupid ass. do cpr.? mayb.? or a hulk roar will wake him up KEJSKJSKSSKJS

tony. you just blew up a alien command center with a nuke, passed out and fell to earth through a portal. and you want, shawarma?

and now back to loki. “if its all the same to you, i’d like that drink now.” ISHSKSJSJSJSKSJSJ

STAN LEEE

the people love em. yey

council lady stfu about the avengers being a threat. they just said the earth and you’re worried about them going rouge??

“if we get into a situation like this again, what happens then?” “they’ll come back.” i mean theres three more avenger movies so i assume so. remodaling stark towers so its the avenger tower? neat!

NEXT MOVIE: IRON MAN 3

*MID CREDIT SCENE* oh hi again mr no eyes. do we get to see this HE? OH WE DO. o hi mr 10 chins

once again ignore the misspells it was three AM when i finally finished this and im just now rereading it

[artxmisery]

🌻🌻🌻SHARE YOUR KNOWLEDGE

okie dokie i'm a month late to this but WHATEVER time to talk about destiny stuff this will be a not-insignificant length so i'm gonna put the rest under a read more

ok i wanna talk about the vex but there are a few things to get through first quick background on the cosmology of destiny: there are two primordial forces, the gardener and the winnower, representing light and dark respectively. they existed before time and the universe as we know it in a place hereafter referred to as the first garden. in the garden (which is not a garden and not the only garden significant to this post) the two played the flower game. basically a big ol version of conway's game of life. however, they were also not playing the flower game? and just normally gardening in a metaphysical way. but back to the flower game. in the unveiling lore book, the winnower speaks to the player directly and a bunch of this info is from there. conway's game of life resembles their flower game "as a seed resembles the star that fed the flower and all the life that made it." it's not 100% clear whether each flower is a universe of its own or just a nebulous piece of cosmically important information, but the flowers are super important. flowers come back repeatedly as a symbol of the winnower, especially red flowers. another big concept in the grander story of the game is the final shape, i.e. the thing that will conquer the universe and be the last thing that exists as it ends. it's the ultimate following of the sword logic (which isn't particularly important here, basically just might makes right but on magic steroids) and lots of people are trying to be it or figure out what it is. what we, the players, know is that there was a successful pattern in the flower game that always won. in other words, the final shape. in the aforementioned unveiling lore book, we learned that this pattern survived the destruction of the first garden that lead to the creation of our universe. the details of that conflict aren't important here (although i'd recommend reading the unveiling lore book if this is at all interesting to you) but that pattern managed to make it out. for the first however long of the universe, it was basically just an untethered mathematical pattern running around in the quantum foam. as the universe cooled down and coalesced it turned into crystals in the water of comets, which then provided a space for them to become something like life. from there, they fell into the ocean(s) of planet(s) (details on whether they appeared in parallel or just once aren't super clear or conflicting). from here we need to go on a slight tangent to keep talking about the biological origins of the vex. there's this huge company that existed during the golden age called clovis bray, named after the dude who founded it, clovis bray i. basically, this guy is space jeff bezos but arguably more shitty. he wants to become immortal and experimented on his son, clovis bray ii, but ended up killing him in the process. i think you can see how much of an egomaniac he is at this point lol. on the moon, there was a group of scientists that found an anomaly connected to the darkness/winnower (a similar artefact is what we got the unveiling book from) that drove them mad with the signal it was trying to send. clovis gets wind of it, hears the signal and flies off to europa. the signal told him he'd find the secret to immortality there (and he did, sort of). part of said secret was the vex. during the golden age the vex were found/appeared/started existing but they weren't the enemy we've faced in the modern game, they were just curious. clovis steals a vex unit from the ishtar collective on venus (might come back to them later) and brings it to europa. it builds-organizes-forms a gateway to somewhere else. that somewhere else is volantis 2082. clovis goes through the gateway and discovers a solar system entirely converted into a forge. the star is engorged and being sustained with hydrogen in order to make metals. it's surrounded by a bunch of artificial satellite worlds where the vex are n where clovis and co ended up. anywho this is where clovis gets a closer look at the vex. so from him, we've got a more concrete idea of how they got from crystals in comets to the time-travelling robots we know and love. back to the biology stuff. basically the environment the vex evolved in was way earlier than our own, so heavy metals were so rare as to be nonexistent and harmful radiation was way more prevalent. because of this, predators never evolved from the vex. they just kept cooperating and feeding off cosmic radiation and whatnot. to protect themselves, they started making "armour", perhaps some sort of gel membrane initially? but then they started forming it out of silica, which is why their fluid is called radiolarian fluid and milky white. the vex continued to cooperate and developed more and more complex swarm behaviours, signalling different facts with different configurations of cells and structures. they aren't necessary sentient or sapient, but they definitely have cognition and intelligence. their way of thinking is so alien to us as to be undefinable. they also don't have a hive mind, per se, but their pattern is so fully repeated and embodied by each unit and larger mind that they work similarly. anyhow, their silica armour was further adapted into tools and structures ad infinitum, moving on to more durable materials as the collective knowledge of the vex increased. now, the vex don't necessarily have desires or goals or anything of the sort. their entire m.o. is to make everything fit the pattern. because they first evolved from that mathematical pattern from before time, they're able to exist as nothing more than information and then hijack matter to make more of themselves. clovis found this out the hard way, cause the vex started travelling through their calls and messages and stuff (and started infecting people, too). the vex are also extremely adept at simulating stuff since there's effectively no difference between a simulation of their pattern and the pattern itself (this comes up a la weeping angels once or twice). they are so good at it, in fact, that they can simulate nigh-infinite realities within their pattern. the simulations are equally as real as baseline reality and through that (i think?) are able to time travel and hop across timelines. that may be how they ended up in our solar system during the golden age. luckily for us, they're not perfect at it, otherwise, they would have always had won (wheeeee time tomfoolery). originally their goal was thought to be writing themselves into the rules of the universe and while that may still be part of it, they're also basically trying to make everything else vex. we have two examples of them turning whole worlds into vex machines/structures, one of which happened in like three days during the collapse (the darkness armageddon that ended the golden age). their architecture is super cool, highly recommend checking out concept art or in-game footage. the whole vex network spans an incomprehensible distance, although we don't have an exact number on that. they come into systems and build beachheads and pull themselves through space and time into the system. on mercury, which was what got converted in three days, they basically turned the whole planet into a giant simulation engine. they have some ridiculous teleportation technology and their weapons pull energy from distant stars through tiny gates. they've also got weapons like the vex mythoclast that pull energy from alternate timelines/loops of time/whatever. that about covers all the notable info about the vex, but there are some cool stories/places i want to touch on. the black garden is one, which is where the climax of the first game takes us. it's untethered in time and space, basically orphaned off from the rest of the universe. after we kill its heart, it ends up on mars. at some point between the end of d1 and shadowkeep in d2, it got untethered again and we go back for the garden of salvation raid. the black garden is referenced a bunch in some of the more cosmological/mythical lore and is the other important garden i mentioned right at the start. the vex have a bunch of cool stuff on venus, too, like the vault of glass. vog is basically where they test time travel stuff and ontological (i.e. reality-affecting) tech and weaponry. if they ever manage to make that stuff work outside the vault, we're toast. also on venus is the ishtar collective which was mentioned earlier, where a bunch of scientists found that a vex unit was simulating all of them hundreds of times over. they called in a super complex ai to help break out the simulations and those simulations went and explored the vex network and have shown up a couple times since. i'm sure i'm forgetting tons of other stuff, but this is wayyyy too long already. definitely hit me up if you wanna hear a quite frankly ridiculous amount of lore about a fictional universe/race lol anyways. thank you very much for the ask n i hope you enjoyed reading if you got this far

[dalgikiss]

Catch-22 // h. iwaizumi

index

part 15

You don’t show up for class the next day or the day after that and the day after that. Iwaizumi wonders if you’re avoiding him, too scared to ask his friends where you might have gone. 

He wonders if you told them what happened but judging by their normal behavior and ordinary teases, it’s safe to say that you had kept your mouth quiet. 

Not even the teachers seem to question your disappearance, teaching the classes the same way they always have- quick and concise. As though it wants to test how long Iwaizumi can be patient, the universe tells your teacher to switch around the seats one more time, for the sake of feng shui, she tells you all and puts you near the windows on the other side of the classroom while Iwaizumi sits all the way in the back, closest to the back door.

The space that separates the two of you is only a few meters but it feels like it’s much more. 

x.

You know you look worse for wear, puffy eyes and red nose. 

You’re pretty sure with every moment you sit in this stuffy lecture hall, more and more people give you pitiful or strange looks. You rub your head, mussing up your hair even more so and slump far down in your seat. 

Stupid, dumb, idiot Iwaizumi 

If you fucked up your entrance exam results, you would blame it all on him 

The professor at the front of the room clears her throat, effectively silencing the room and you rearrange the writing utensils on your desk in front of you. 

“You have three hours once this exam starts. If you have finished before time is up, please come up to the front of the room with your exam paper and test ID”

The exam paper sits in front of your desk, the words HITOTSUBASHI UNIVERSITY written on the cover page, loud and bold. You swallow nervously at the sight. 

The professor glances at the clock, setting the timer so it’s been projected onto the screen in front of you. With one final look to check everything was working, she clapped her hands twice. 

“You may now begin”

x.

“Why are you following me home?” 

Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches when Oikawa walks next to him, swinging his arms back and forth without a care in the world as though he didn’t just walk past his block.

“I’m not following you home, Iwa-chan” The setter looks up at the sky, making motions as though he was setting a ball, “I’m going to cutie-chan’s house to water her plants and bring in their mail for the next few days”

They near your block, Iwaizumi blinking in surprise. “Where’d she go?”

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“If I have to ask, obviously not dumbass” Iwaizumi snaps, hiding his embarrassment behind rough words and Oikawa sticks his tongue out in response, dodging when Iwaizumi tries to kick him.

“Well, she always did like me more, it only makes sense that she’d tell me and not you” 

Iwaizumi raises his fist threateningly but Oikawa doesn’t bother to pretend to hide from it. “She’s taking her entrance exam for Hitotsubashi University. Her family’s in Tokyo for her brother’s judo tournament so she’s going to spend a few days with them before coming back”

Oikawa bends close to Iwaizumi’s face with a knowing grin, “Why? You miss her or something?” and Iwaizumi pushes his face away from him pretending to be annoyed but Oikawa already knows the answer and lets himself be flung far away. 

“Wanna come with? It’ll be faster if we both were there” 

When Iwaizumi hesitates, Oikawa glances at him before putting his arms around the back of his head. “She won’t mind, if that’s what you’re wondering”  

He pretends to be annoyed at his old friend, face setting into a scowl and he takes his bag to whack Oikawa in the back with it. He’ll never say it out loud, but Oikawa always did know him like the back of his hand. 

The rest of the walk is silent, Iwaizumi gripping the straps of his bag in hopes of calming himself down. You wouldn’t be there, he tells himself, you’re not there and he’s only going to make sure Oikawa doesn’t magically end up burning down your house somehow or creating a hole in your bedroom wall.

However the silence is short lived. 

“Why didn’t she tell you?” Oikawa wonders aloud, watching Iwaizumi tighten his grip from the corner of his eye, “Is it because you’re ugly? That’s never stopped her before though”

Iwaizumi wonders if Oikawa practices how to annoy people in his spare time. 

“We got into an argument a few days ago, guess that’s why she never told me”

“Ah, so it’s your fault as usual”

They stop in front of your front door and Iwaizumi resists the urge to take the skateboard your brother has left out on the porch and smack it into Oikawa’s face. Oikawa peers into your mailbox, a large hand reaching inside to grab a bundle of mail while Iwaizumi glanced around before crouching over to reach inside the bucket of beer bottle caps, sifting it around to find your spare key. 

“Man, you come here too often to know where the spare key is” Oikawa teases as Iwaizumi sticks the key into lock

“Shut up, don’t act like you didn’t know where it was”

Your house looks just the same as he remembers, albeit a bit messier since you had been rushing to pack for your miniature trip, evidence of it in forms of various jackets strewn around in random places and the mismatched pairs of shoes around the entrance. 

Oikawa set down the mail on your kitchen table, shaking his head when he saw the dishes in the sink, reprimanding you for not cleaning up and instructing Iwaizumi to begin watering the plants while he cleaned up your mess. 

“Why’d you two fight?” Oikawa asks out of the blue, startling Iwaizumi

Iwaizumi let out a wry laugh “and here i was thinking about how nice it was in our relationship that we’ve reached a point where we didn’t have to talk all the time”

“Do you wanna hear my theory about how aliens are actually observing us through pigeons? If you think about it, you never see the same pigeon twice and what does a baby pigeon look like? You don’t know because you’ve never seen one, so my theory is-”

“Alright alright, I get it, shut the fuck up”

Oikawa beams proudly, hand quivering slightly under the weight of the heavy cup he was using to water the plants

“I said some stuff to her about Ryuoko” He admits defeatedly, watching the dirt of the aloe plant take in water “Might have told her she was attention needy”

“You did what? I can’t believe you said that to our precious baby- oh man, she’s definitely really upset”

Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa, long and hard, who stared right back. 

“She definitely told you, why are you playing dumb?”

Oikawa doesn’t bother to fight back against the accusation, only turning back to water the Chinese Evergreen plant that rested by the windowsill. “She didn’t tell me a thing” He says as the last drops of water were used, “She was crying”

Oikawa headed back to the kitchen to put away the cup he had been using, a hand taking the one that Iwaizumi grasped. 

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why she’s upset, even when she doesn’t tell us”

x.

You feel Iwaizumi’s stare before you can see him, uncomfortably shifting in your seat as you try to copy what is in your textbook.

Moving your seat away from him was a blessing in your favor, or so you thought. You had been relieved when you first heard about your new seating arrangement, no longer needing to feel on edge when Ryuoko walked in and being able to avoid talking to Iwaizumi after your fight was just a perk. 

At least, it was until you couldn’t shake away this nagging feeling that Iwaizumi was constantly staring you down.

“He’s staring at you again” 

You looked at your new seatmate, Kumatsuka Kirin who pointed towards the back of the room with her pen. 

“I think it’s been the third time since this period started” She whispered, giving you a little grin, “I think he might liiiiiiikeee you” She drags the word out, rhythmically tapping her nose with her pen to a beat only she can hear. 

You crinkle your nose, throwing your eraser at her. “He has a girlfriend”

“Just because there’s a goalie doesn’t mean you can’t score!” 

She laughs at your expression, “I’m kidding, i’m kidding! Homewrecking is never the answer” 

She winks at you, answering the question the teacher throws at her with ease and you marvel at her casual attitude.

“By the way,” She writes something in her notebook before holding it up so you could view it. “I’ve been keeping score of how many times he’s looked at you” 

There’s a total of four tally marks from this period and a few more from the periods before. 

“This is gonna be fun” She grins and you shake your head because no this is not fun

x.

You’ve been getting better at this avoiding-Iwaizumi game, taking it one step further to even avoid the rest of the third years as well, an unintended side effect that Iwaizumi now bears the consequences of every time Oikawa decides to open his mouth and complain about your missing presence with passive aggressive words and pointed looks.

“Maaaaaaaaaaan, things have been so quiet lately” Oikawa cries out, “I wonder why that is” 

Iwaizumi pretends to not see the look that’s thrown his way, cursing under his breath when even Hanamaki and Matsukawa give him a certain look

Really guys?

“It sure feels like someone is missing, doesn’t it?” 

Another pointed look at iwaizumi’s direction

He furrows his eyebrows at his friends, turning the corner sharply after their third jab at him. “Alright! I’ll apologize tomorrow. It’s just a bit hard when she keeps avoiding me” 

His friends don’t seem the least sympathetic, Matsukawa only making use of the extra few inches he has on Iwaizumi to tower over him

“You have to atone for your sins”

‘What are you, some creepy priest? Stay away from me”

x.

[Iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

are you home?

[Iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

 i know you’re reading my messages

[Iwaizumi] [Hajime]:        

cmon please answer

When your phone rings again, your brother looks up sharply from the kotatsu on the floor and angrily throws his eraser at you. 

“If your phone goes off one more time, I’m throwing it out the window and then you’re going out after it” he threatens and you roll your eyes, sticking your tongue out at him. When he picks up your phone and makes a motion to chuck it out the window, you panic, tackling him into the ground. 

“Okay, okay! Give me- Ow! Stop digging your knee into me!”

“Move, you’re too close to my- I SAID MOVE”

You snatch your phone out of his hand, hobbling away on one foot as he curled into a ball on the floor. “I’d say sorry but you deserved it” 

Your phone lights up again with another message and you chew your lip before responding.

[Me]:

not home rn, why 

[iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

oh nvm then, im outside ur door

The bubble tea he had been holding as a peace offering is starting to sweat in his hand, water droplets dampening the welcome mat he’s standing on. Hanamaki was right, he should’ve texted you before he walked all the way over. 

[Surname] [Name]:

what why 

[Me]:

wanted to talk to you

[Surname] [Name]:

lol i dont think we need to talk about anything. u said what u needed to say & i got the message loud and clear

He couldn’t even argue with her, sighing deeply through his nose. The rustling of a curtain caught his eye, blinking twice. Was someone else home?

[Iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

is someone else home?

Shit, you cursed underneath your breath, flattening yourself against the wall when he had turned his head towards you. He definitely saw the curtains moving back into place. 

Your brother, who had finally sat up, watched you curiously, homework forgotten on the table. “You look stupid, who’s outside?”

“Haji”

“You don’t wanna let him in?” 

“No”

He shrugs, none of his business why. “Well I have practice. What’s your plan of action from here?”

You give your brother an inquisitive look before narrowing your eyes. “You’re not gonna try and do anything?”

“Do my chores for the week and I’ll do anything you ask me to for today”

You decide you’ll take him on his offer, fully knowing it was because he was too lazy to vacuum and mop the floor.

“Tell him I’m not home when you go out”

He doesn’t seem bothered, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it onto his shoulder, giving you a thumbs up sign and then he’s left and you hear the jangling of his keys and then his voice floating in through your open window. 

“Hey Iwaizumi”

Your brother closes the door behind him and Iwaizumi stares up blanky. He always forgot how big your brother was, tall and buff after years of working out accompanied with judo training. 

“Iwaizumi?” Your brother waves a calloused hand in front of his face when he doesn’t respond, too caught up in his own world, “You there?”

“What? Yeah, sorry” Iwaizumi thrusts your bubble tea into your brother’s hands, who barely catches it in time before it hits the ground. “This is for your sister” 

There’s an unreadable look in your brother’s eyes as he regards Iwaizumi, brown eyes studying him as though he’s become an opponent on the mat and if you were there, you’d tease him for thinking so hard, the vein in his forehead was beginning to pop out. 

The gears in his head are turning ridiculously fast, putting two and two together- the way you were avoiding Iwaizumi, the look of guilt on Iwaizumi’s face, you two definitely had a fight. But, your brother, even though he annoys you to the very core of Earth and back is loyal to his family and his promises and doesn’t bring it up. 

Before Iwaizumi can voice his discomfort over being scrutinized, your brother’s eyes relax and he nods, turning around to put the drink on top of the shoe closet of your entrance way. 

“You know she isn’t home right?” Your brother asks, beginning to walk towards the train station and Iwaizumi follows him quietly. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, everything’s fine” Iwaizumi bites on the inside of his cheek to distract himself to the growing feeling of guilt that’s settled itself nicely in the crevices of his body. The words you said to him sting like miniature paper cuts all over his body, each one amplified when he looks into your brother’s eyes, it reminded him too much of yours. 

“You sure? You seem a little on edge” 

“Nothing. We had a disagreement over something and we’ve both been busy. Haven’t seen her in a while”

The pieces click into place and your brother nods understandingly. “It’ll work out. She’s always been like that, she just needs to figure things out on her own and then come back to you” 

Yeah, Iwaizumi knows

“You should still try to apologize though, we know how stubborn she is”

He knows that too

“Try calling her or texting her. She might cry if she sees you in person”

They stop at the end of the street, your brother waving his hand before they separate. 

“Good luck Iwaizumi”

x.

[Iwaizumi Hajime]:

 I’m sorry

[iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

You probably don’t want to hear or see me rn

[iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

It’s fine tho, i just want to apologize about what I said the other day

[iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

I really don’t have an excuse for what I said and I hope you forgive me :/ 

You stare at your vibrating phone, watching the messages come in, one after another. The bubble tea he had bought you sat on the table, straw popped in and waiting to be drank. You stared longingly at the drink, battling yourself over wanting to drink it because yes, it is Jasmine milk tea with bubbles and grass jelly but no, he bought it and I’m angry at him

The petty side of you was definitely fighting a losing battle. Placing your mouth over the straw, the drink was just too good to be ignored, effectively helping you drown out the vehement shouts of anger inside your head for giving in so easily. 

Of course you were angry at Iwaizumi, fuck him for saying such horrible things to you. You let the straw pop out of your mouth with a sigh, shoulders sagging at the reminder that of all the people you knew, it was Iwaizumi that had said those things to you. 

It wasn’t your fault, you reminded yourself, not your fault

Why did you feel the need to apologize then?

Your phone rings with another message from Iwaizumi, your fingers gripping the side of your phone as you contemplated whether or not to text him back. 

[iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

talk to me soon, miss you

[Iwaizumi] [Hajime]:

I really am sorry. Please forgive me when you’re ready

You were never really good at staying angry at him

[Me]:

yeah i know. focus on getting to nationals and we can talk after

[aion-rsa]

Space Sweepers and the History of Working Class People In Space

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This week saw the release of Space Sweepers, Korea’s first big budget special effects space movie extravaganza. There are a lot of interesting things to say about this movie, but one of the things that makes it stand out is it’s an excellent portrayal of people in space who are skint.

See, I hate to break it to you, but you’re probably never going into space. Unless you’re a highly trained technical specialist (well done!) or a billionaire (pay your taxes!), your best shot at seeing Earth from space within your lifetime is the development of realistic-yet-cheap VR headsets.

And the thing is, a lot of the time this holds up in sci-fi as well. Space travellers are either living in a post-scarcity utopia, are part of the military, or are some kind of genius scientists.

Even where we see supposedly salt-of-the-Earth relatable types, like Han Solo or Mal Reynolds, their scruffy outfits and roguish ways can’t quite cover for the fact that they own and live in the equivalent of a massive luxury yacht or private plane. Serenity may look like a rust bucket, but it’s far from the equivalent of a white van, and while Mal is constantly complaining about the costs of fuel and repairs, that doesn’t change the fact that he seems to own the ship outright, and in “Oxygen” he appears ready to buy the ship for cash.

As for Han Solo, leaving for a moment his humble origins and that he won the ship in a card game, within the Galaxy Far Far Away the ratio of space travellers to non-space travellers doesn’t seem that different from the one on Earth. Yes, there are lots of smugglers and Tie-fighter pilots and interplanetary bounty hunters, but for every one of them there are millions of Tusken sand raiders, Jawa scrap merchants, moisture farmers and Corellian street rats. Spacecraft might come and go from the spires of Coruscant as regularly as buses, but the population density is such that most people on that planet will be lucky to see sunlight, let alone the stars.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, the chances of an ordinary person getting into space even in the foreseeable future vary between Willy Wonka Golden ticket level lucky, or truly dystopian. On the one hand, Elon Musk has announced the first all-civilian mission to space, led by billionaire Jared Isaacman (so, not what you’d call an everyman), two seats given to people who have won a place by donating to St Jude’s Hospital (it probably won’t be one of the smaller donors), and finally, one lucky front-line health worker.

But Elon Musk wants to colonise Mars, and sadly billionaires still need people to clean the toilets, so Musk has other ideas for how ordinary people might get into space. Unfortunately that idea is indentured slavery, demonstrating that the most prescient science fiction writers of our generation are the writers of first-person shooters.

This is why, outside of post-scarcity-fully-automated-luxury-space-communism, and the military, science fiction is always oddly quiet about money. With a few honourable exceptions.

We Just Work Here

The first and most obvious reason why any ordinary working-class person would end up in space is “they’re paid to”.

Pretty much the codifier of working-class people in space is Alien. The crew of Nostromo aren’t scientists, they’ve not got The Right Stuff. Nobody on that ship is getting a high school named after them. The crew of the Nostromo are basically truck drivers who venture off the highway and run into something nasty. Yes, ironically they show a great deal more competence, professionalism and intelligence in encountering an alien threat than the actual scientists in the prequel movie, but the first conversation these characters have when they come out of hyper sleep is about money. From the outset, these are people in a place of work.

It’s a model that set the format for gritty-industrial-working-class-people in space movies going forward for better or worse. Event Horizon just lifts Alien’s aesthetic completely for the rescue ship Lewis & Clark, as does the videogame series Dead Space, like Alien, set aboard a mining ship.

Away from the horror genre, Outland sees Sean Connery play sheriff in a final frontier mining town that could have taken place in the same world as Alien.

And of course, Red Dwarf, which not only made good use of the Alien aesthetic, but also cast the colony commander from Aliens as their Captain, to tell the story of chicken soup repairmen in space.

Across all of these stories, and of course the aforementioned videogames, the life of the blue collar space traveller is an unpleasant one, exploited by a company that not only controls your life while you work, but also owns all of your food, water and air. Indeed, it’s not rare for them to go further. In Moon, another film where the spacemen-to-earthmen ratio seems not far what it is now, Sam Bell’s employer decides to save the cost of training employees and ferrying them back and forth from Earth to the Moon by taking one employee and filling a cellar full of his pre-programmed, short-lived disposable clones.

Space Sweepers

Public Transport

But maybe you don’t want to work for “the Man”, not an unwise call given the Man is probably trying to feed you to something horrible in the hope of creating a new bioweapon. One surprisingly under-utilised method of getting into space is public transport.

In The Fifth Element, Bruce Willis plays a special-forces-operative-turned-cab-driver who, as part of his cover, wins a ticket to go on a space cruise. Although looking at the sets and the extras in this movie, as well as the packed-in-as-tightly-as-we-can apartments back on Earth, one gets the impression this is not an option open to the majority of working joes.

Perhaps the best example of this is in the shockingly under-loved 2018 flick, Prospect, featuring future Mandalorian Pedro Pascal.

In Prospect, the spaceship is little more than a rotating framework filled with cargo containers in front of a massive engine. The father and daughter prospecting team are on board a lander that resembles nothing so much as an old Apollo Lunar Lander on the inside, and as the mothership approaches their destination the ship doesn’t even stop, it just releases the lander, tells them when the ship is going to be passing back that way and warns them the line is being terminated, so there won’t be another ship passing that way.

This is a model it would be fantastic to see more of. The landing module is small enough that it’s entirely plausible that even these not-very-well-off characters could buy, hire or rent one. Rather than having the freedom of the space ways like Mal or Han, their travel options are entirely restricted by what destinations are profitable for large shipping companies and whether they’ll let you tag along. And while on the surface the aesthetic looks a bit Alien, in truth it feels far more like it’s cobbled together from relics of the actual space age.

Borrow Your Way Into Space

And finally, of course, there’s the Elon Musk solution. Borrow your way into space. One of the early places to use this idea was Gateway, by Frederik Pohl. Frederik Pohl in particular is fantastic at writing science fiction worlds where people actually have to worry about money. In Gateway and its sequels humanity has discovered Ancient Aliens left a space station nearby, stocked with a lot of spaceships. Being alien technology, humans can’t control the ships accurately, they’re limited pretty much to pressing the “Stop” and “Go” buttons, and when the ship flies off it might land on a world of fabulous riches, or it might chuck you into the heart of a star.

Prospectors who want to try their luck in these ships have to take out a loan to get to the station, and throughout the novel the protagonist is constantly aware of how many credits are in his account.

Which brings us back around to Space Sweepers. At first glance the Space Sweepers set-up might seem similar to that of the Millennium Falcon or Serenity – an extremely “used” looking ship run by a rag-tag bunch of misfits. But the first time we see the protagonist, Tae-ho, he’s in a pawn shop. As soon as he gets back to the ship we learn the crew are still paying off the cost of the ship, as well as the costs of repairs and parts.

We see an awful lot of “Space sweepers” throughout the film, junk collectors gathering up salvage from Earth’s orbiting collection of derelict spacecraft and defunct satellites. But these people don’t seem like roguish space pirates, the impression they give is more akin to app-based gig workers.

This is compounded by another issue – that to work in space you need a visa, with citizenship limited to the wealthy few who are able to afford a place on the deluxe orbiting space habitats.

Everything in Space Sweepers is driven by money, whether it’s Tao-Ho’s attempts to raise enough money to find his daughter, the robot, Bubs, and her attempt to get a humanoid body that reflects her gender, and of course, the $2 million reward for “Dorothy” which drives the whole plot.

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Often space-based sci-fi is about the fantasy of freedom, of exploration. Even shows like Star Trek give us characters whose job isn’t much more than to fly around having adventures. But there is rich storytelling to be done about the people who have to clean the space toilets.

Chris Farnell’s novella series, Fermi’s Progress, is about a ship whose FTL drive vaporises planets, and features at least one space traveller who isn’t a scientist, super soldier or billionaire (although to be fair the other three characters are exactly that). You can find part one here.

The post Space Sweepers and the History of Working Class People In Space appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[demons-fanatic]

The Choir: Chloral Madmen or Misguided Fools?

Spoilers for Bloodborne below for the entire post:

So, for my first lore post here, I wanted to keep it within the season. Believe it or not, the Choir is quite a scary prospect of Yharnam when you look at it in depth. First of all, what is the job of the Choir? As their set states outright: “Members of the Choir are both the highest-ranking clerics of the Healing Church, and scholars who continue the work that began at Byrgenwerth.“ This means the choir continues in Eldritch Knowledge and the pursuit of ascension in the path of Master Willem and not Laurence. The origin of the Choir is also explicitly stated with the Orphanage Key: “Key to the Orphanage, birthplace of the Choir. The Orphanage, shadowed by the Grand Cathedral, was a place of scholarship and experimentation, where young orphans became potent unseen thinkers for the Healing Church. The Choir, that would later split from the Healing Church, was a creation of the Orphanage.“ This explicitly tells us that the Choir are just Orphans who grew up and were taught to essentially experiment on people their whole lives, along with a lot of Eldritch Knowledge. If you’re wondering where the rest of the Choir is well, presumably they’re in the third floor of the Upper Cathedral Ward main building. It’s a fact that some of them are there, given that singing can be heard, arias specifically. These aria’s are supposed to be religious-like thing, given by the Rosmarinus’ description: “A special weapon used by the Choir, high-ranking members of the Healing Church. Sprays a cloud of sacred mist, created by using blood-imbued Quicksilver Bullets as a special medium. Arias are heard wherever sacred mist is seen, proving that the mist is a heavenly blessing.

‘Oh, fair maiden, why is it that you weep?’”  It is seen as something of the heavens, the heavens being something the Choir, or really the church believe in. These heavens might be the Nightmare realms in the other planes of existence. The mist is made from Quicksilver Bullets, aka Mercury and Mercury in Bloodborne deserves its own post but it’s essentially Mercury gas, in which Oedon loves Mercury. The last line “Oh, fair maiden, why is it that you weep?” this maiden is the Great One below in the cave, but we’ll get to her later. Now, what do the Choir do? Well, they experiment on people to, as Fauxsefka puts it “Surpassing our own stupidity.” these experiments create Kin. These experiments are the Celestial Emissaries. And why are they called “Emissaries” well, it’s presumable they are used to contact Great Ones. How do we know this? Well, they drop communion. The boss does anyways. Meaning that they have contacted a higher truth. All the places we find communion, minus +5 vials, is in relation to some sort of religious place/person. Where communion has or could take place. 

The Choir also is said to now be separated from the Healing Church itself and with this they have just become a separate name. They are still apart of it, just not the Healing Church conglomerate. This means that the Choir gets their “patients” from the Church who of course, just kidnap Yharnamites. Another faction that has separated from the church is the School of Mensis, who preform a similar function to the choir, but they do not experiment on people in the same way, their wish is though, is to reach Kos and end the Curse of Hunters. The Choir is very suspicious of the School, sending a spy, Edgar to the school in hopes of sharing secrets, though, due to the Mensis ritual, he got stuck in the Nightmare Realm. The choir’s suspicions aren’t for naught though, Mensis is doing something and killed an entire village to try and create an artificial Great One, which worked half-way.

Another aspect of the Choir to note is their clothing. Which the cap is the most interesting part. “Attire of the Choir, high-ranking members of the Healing Church. Members of the Choir are both the highest-ranking clerics of the Healing Church, and scholars who continue the work that began at Byrgenwerth. Together with the left behind Great One, they look to the skies, in search of astral signs, that may lead them to the rediscovery of true greatness.“ This states that the Choir outfits are inspired by Willem, why they choose not to see is a common concept. It’s not rare in Yharnam to cover ones eyes so that you can gain eyes on the inside and ascend. Their attire looks very special and like Choir wear, nothing special there but it is apart of the Choir.

Another interesting part of the Choir is their tools. Their tools include: Rosmarinus, Choir Bell, A Call Beyond and Augur of Ebrietas. Minus the Rosmarinus, they are all Arcane items. Meaning they are understood by few, but they also incorporate, for the lack of a better word, magic in their use. The Choir Bell is based on a larger bell that can send a sound across multiple planes of existence. This one just uses its sound to raise vigor/heal someone. A Call Beyond was created when the Healing Church failed to contact the greater Cosmos using Phantasms, but instead summoned a small exploding star. Finally, the Augur of Ebrietas uses a similar tactic to A Call Beyond. It uses a phantasm but it uses it to partially summon Ebrietas, using one of her tentacles to shoot out of ones hand. All of these weapons use the cosmos and are the latter two are considered secrets, for good reason. They do use it in combat, Yurie, Fauxsefka and Edgar all use it. Along with Micolash(Who would’ve been apart of the Choir but split in Mensis). 

Another thing the Choir is continuously said to do is look at the sky or mention how the sky is one with the Cosmos. This, of course, is also something they most likely took from Willem as when we find him in Byrgenwerth, he is literally staring at the sky forever. Doing this seemingly does do something as Willem is growing some sort of Fungus on his neck which isn’t natural. He’s also lost his ability to speak in a normal human tongue. Though, the Choir either haven’t done it long enough or as expected, have just used other methods to achieve this. Of course, the experiments are these ways. Once you understand that in this world that these Gods exist, you’re either afraid or in awe. How the people of Bloodborne even figured out you can transcend is beyond me, but. They figured it out and now they wish to do so. Multiple ways of doing it have been shown in the game whether it be drinking God Blood, Water, Eating Organs or becoming too Enlightened. And all of this, as we know are connected to Aliens. Beings from Space. There is a reason the Moon Presence is called the Moon Presence after all, did she come from the Moon? Who knows, but she always descends from it, meaning she is not from Earth and comes from space. Not to mention some aspects of the Choir magic as listen above are well, space related. Stars. Yes, it is strange they just realized that the sky leads into space but it helps in the fact they most definitely worship the moon a lot. Hell, they even have statues of the Moon Presence.

These can be found in Lumenflower Gardens and most definitely suggest that the Choir worship or really appreciate her in which one makes sense over the other. With this, and other descriptions, the Choir are really obsessed with the Moon, in the same theme of the Lumenflower Gardens, the flowers open in full Moonlight. We also know the church has always participated in rituals with a Great One, mostly the Moon. So this obsession with space, Great Ones, it’s all religious. It’s sacred, holy, divine, etc... This isn’t surprising of course, all Great Ones are considered Gods. The Choir themselves have a connection to one of these Gods, Ebrietas.

Now, since we are talking about the Choir and Isz and Ebrietas are apart of the Choir, I will 1. Talk about them as if they are the same(Isz less so) and 2. Go into full detail about them. 

First off we have Isz, a land that the Choir themselves consider to be in touch with the Cosmos. It is a land that is filled with Moon Larvae(Most likely where most of the ones in Upper Cathedral Ward come from) Celestial Emissaries and other Kin. It’s infested with a blue hue and arcane tree roots. This of course, going along with the themes of Bloodborne proves that well, all of this has already played out. Isz has already done what the Choir has done, the Choir is just repeating Isz. There’s even a human(or Pthumerian; Iszian?) who has become a Great One, but we’ll get to her later. But yes, this is just proof everything is repeating, like Loran and Yharnam. It is also notable that Isz houses most Great Ones we see as bosses, which brings to effect 1. These Chalices are Pocket Dimensions, Rom has no place being here. 2. These Chalices are existing so the Great Ones shall keep their forms stored so they cannot die, they can revert back to their other form and regenerate so to speak and then come back. Isz just seems to possibly be the main hub for that. Regardless, that is Isz. And relation to the Choir, well, they found the chalice and explored it and then came into contact with Ebrietas.

Now we have Ebrietas, Daughter of the Cosmos. She is called a Great One in many places, but is she? Well, it’s confusing. All true Great Ones bleed red, like Humans. But, all Kin bleed White, Mercury. But, what does Ebrietas bleed? Red and White. What does Rom bleed? Red and White. What is Rom? A Human who has transformed into a failed Great One. From the previous paragraph, we established cycles in Bloodborne. This isn’t a joke or false, this is true. Think about it; Loran, Old Yharnam and now Yharnam all were infected by the Beast Plague. It happens again and again. Isz and now the Choir, it’s happening again and again. The Fishing Hamlet and now Mensis with Mergo, again and again. If this isn’t proof, well, I don’t know what to tell you. This is even more explicit than Dark Souls. Anyways, along with this would be another failed attempt at a Great One, right? Well, of course, why couldn’t it? Ebrietas is like Rom, she can cast her own magic and looks like a Great One. Anyways, take that theory with what you will. So, what does Ebrietas do in our current story? Well, she was found in Isz by the Choir. It’s said she was left behind, if you believe my theory you’ll know why. She’s not like the others, she cannot ascend to other planes like the others can because she’s not full, so to speak. So, she was found and luckily for the Choir, she wanted to coexist with humans. Why she does isn’t known but, she soon became a thing for the Choir to study, but presumably they did nothing bad to her and even gained a good relationship with her. She stays in a cave below the Grand Cathedral, called the “Altar of Despair” and currently she’s weeping over a dead corpse of a giant Spider. 

And, this is where I deviate from current lore to cut content, well. See, that Giant Spider is Rom. It’s honestly, should I say an extremely bad mess up, like really, really bad. Because in current game, it makes no sense. This giant spider that looks like Rom is here but it’s not really Rom? And you can reverse Annalise’s death here? What? Well, if you want to know, it’s Rom and the Altar used to be below Byrgenwerth, Rom would fall and then Ebrietas would be sad her “sister” is dead. There’s also a cutscene associated with her corpse, but nevertheless, there we go. You might be asking, “Why is this important” well, there’s no good explanation for it other than to explain why it’s there when the area was being developed.

But that’s the end of the rant, so the Choir are children who have been raised to experiment on people and elevate humanity. Of course, they aren’t the only ones who do so but they definitely are making progress. If you read all the way through, thank you! Feedback and RB’s are appreciated!

[probablyquestionablerpgideas]

Our System Spotlight for last week, The Quiet Year, was all about world building. Whether you like one shots, want a break from the typical style of RPGs, or are wanting to get your players involved in building a setting for a future campaign, it can prove to be a fun GM-less system for you and your friends to play.

This week’s spotlight is a game that does something similar to The Quiet Year, but on a much larger scale. In Microscope, instead of building the story for a single setting, you and your group can create the story for an entire world. Instead of going linear in your world building, you can jump around the timeline however you please. You can stick to doing one-shots, or you can keep coming back session after session to flesh out your world and make it into something that feels truly alive.

This is a GM-less game that can be done with anywhere between 2-5 players (but easily can be adapted for more), however the creators recommend you keep your group to 3 or 4 players so that the chaos of a larger group can be avoided.

The Basic Rules:

The rule book for Microscope is 81 pages long, and can be bought online as a PDF, or ordered as a physical book. While not every player needs to read the entire rule book before playing, it is heavily recommended that at least one person tries to read it cover to cover so that they have a good understanding of what will take place. I would also like to make the disclaimer that these basic rules are NOT all-encompassing, and will be leaving everything out aside from the bare minimum.

There aren’t many supplies necessary to play this game. You just need some index cards (or post-it notes), a writing utensil, and a large space to spread everything out on.

When starting a game of Microscope, your group collaborates to create a “Big Idea” that you want your world to follow--that can be anything from ‘“An ancient empire rises and falls”, to “Mankind leaves the sick Earth behind and spreads out to the stars,” (both are examples from the rule book). Whatever it may be, the game gives guidance on how to delve into the “Big Idea” and expand upon it. After the basics are settled, the group is then asked to take a paper and make some Yes/No columns. Each person writes one thing they absolutely do or do not want to occur in the history you’re building (it suggests not to add/ban things that are already expected in order to keep things interesting) and you keep passing it around the table and adding something until someone has nothing else to add. The idea here is that everybody has an equal number of additions (or bans) on the list.

Now to discuss the real magic of the game--creating your history. On each round, the players are asked to create a Period, an Event, or a Scene. A Period is essentially a large chunk of time where something is happening. Using our world as an example, you could take the Stone Age, or the Victorian Era. One is a much larger span of time than the other, but could be considered a Period. An Event is just that-- a single occurrence where something happens. It could be the assassination of a king, or the discovery of an alien race.

Periods and Events go hand in hand, and they’re where the index cards come into play. Periods are written down and placed horizontally in chronological order to simulate a timeline. Events are placed vertically (also in chronological order) underneath the Period they take place in. Each Period and Event is given the designation of “Light” or “Dark” to show what the general tone of that time was. Something important to note is that while you’re writing the basics down on index cards, it’s heavily encouraged to talk more with the other players about the scenarios you create so that they can have a better understanding of them and so that you can make the world feel more vibrant.

Scenes are a whole different beast; they still use index cards, but they’re where the roleplay aspect comes into this RPG. A Scene is essentially the answer to a question (“Why did the king betray his country?” is a good example from the book). You can elect to either dictate the Scene by yourself, or work together with the other players to play it out in real time. If you want the Scene to be roleplayed instead of dictated, you ask the question, set the stage, and then let the proverbial chips fall as they may--this is the one place in the game where a single player won’t have full control over what a scenario they made up looks like.

Pros:

It’s a pretty cheap game system that can get you and your players going for a long time

If you’re a GM and want to flesh out an entire worldspace with your players, this might be perfect for you

People who are nervous about role playing can potentially flourish in a game like this--it helps them dip their foot in the water, and there are options to not be role playing if they don’t wish to.

The rules aren’t very restrictive, you can go as wild as you want with your world building

Cons:

People who like rules-heavy games might not like the amount of free will given here

Other players can make choices you might not like--you can ask questions to help flesh things out, but unless it contradicts things written in the yes/no column, they can make whatever choices they want