#anyway back to what i was saying. like sure it's body may be 'gross' and it probably doesn't always smell nice or isn't clean all the timE-
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fictionallyinparadise · 1 year ago
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I'm going absolutely feral thinking about Beastie. Oh my god. I just want it to hold me in it's palm and look at me with it's loving unseen eyes. And make little silly chirps that come from different alarms to show happiness. Fucking sobbing at the thought of this big ass creature being gentle.
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highvern · 6 months ago
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YUCK
Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung x f!reader
Genre: fluff, suggestive moments
warnings: mentions of illness/body fluids (snot, vomit), avoidant attachment from reader, Hoshi best boy
Length: ~2.9k
Note: more of this couples bc im crazy thank u @gyuswhore
series m.list: Houdini [s], Green Light [s, f], Talk [a, s, f], Casual [a, s, f], Mine [s], espresso [f, s]
m.list
This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked.
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Two and a half months of hooking up with a guy who may or may not be a furry and things start feeling…comfortable. 
You’ll pretend until the day you die that every time the weekend rolls around you won’t end up naked in Soonyoung’s bed. Or your own. Usually it is your own because he has more roommates than you and yours leaves to stay at her boyfriend’s until Monday night which means there is no need to keep quiet (which you and Soonyoung both struggle with but you refuse to acknowledge that fact). 
It allows for many nights bent over the kitchen counter, Soonyoung’s chest hot against the back of your thighs as he works you up with his mouth. Or occasional nights on the couch after you both are too into each other to make it upstairs to your room, planted firmly in his lap while pinning his hands to the cushions. There's also the nights he drags you straight to bed and demonstrates exactly what all the pictures you took while tucked away in the privacy of a gross bar bathroom did to him. 
You’re pretty sure Soonyoung has picked up on your game by now because instead of asking ‘if’ he’s taken to asking ‘when’ he can come over. And it's annoying that it doesn’t really annoy you at all.
Soonyoung comes over on Friday nights and leaves Saturday afternoon, except when he shows up on Saturday mornings and stays well into Sunday night. Or the occasional weekend where you remember who you are and show up on his door and leave three hours later with cum still drying on your thigh as you walk past his roommates still pregaming in the living room.
Except now it's Friday and you’ve got nothing on your mind except for the inside of a toilet bowl and the cool tile of the bathroom floor.
Call it food poisoning or maybe the flu, but you’ve been in and out of sleep since the early hours of dawn. Shivering on the floor, the only company you have is a pile of dirty clothes. Even the crack of light under the door is too much stimulation for your illness-racked brain to tolerate.
“Y/N?” your roommate calls from the other side of the darkness, out in the hallway where it's safe from whatever curse is making home in your gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay home? I don’t mind.”
“I’m fine,” you groan. Your words couldn’t convince the deaf but you try anyway. 
She responds but it slips right past because another bout of nausea takes hold.
You manage to fall asleep at some point, clammy on the floor with aching hips. Maybe an hour or maybe ten minutes. It doesn't really make a difference because you still feel like shit when the door opens and the hall light burns through your retinas.
“Hazel, I said I’m— What are you doing here?” you croak from the floor. 
Soonyoung stairs down at you, face soft with something that might be worry but it’s probably just the fever melting your brain. “You look like shit.” 
“You always know just what to say.” The usual snark isn’t there, replaced by a pathetic helpless whine of discomfort because all you want is to curl up and die. “Did you come to insult me or…?”
“Hazel let me know you were sick and usually sick people need medicine and soup so I brought that and this tea my mom used to give me as a kid.” 
“Are you trying to cure me so you can get your dick wet?” 
“No. If I wanted to stick my dick in a Petri dish I feel like there are easier ways to go about it.” He kneels right next to you like he isn’t the slightest bit concerned about catching the plague brewing in your immune system. A cool hand cups your cheek, thumb gentle at your temple where a dull throb has haunted you all day. You lean into the comforting touch without much thought.  “When was the last time you showered?” 
“I don’t know. Like two days ago?” 
“Yeah, I can smell that. Alright my little germ cell, let’s get you cleaned up.” 
His arms snake under yours, dragging you from the floor even with your muscles limp. It takes more maneuvering but you don’t bother helping. If he wants to play not-so-sexy nurse and patient then that's his problem. The warmth of his sweater is welcome though. 
“Is this some weird fetish thing?” Nose buried in Soonyoung’s chest, it comes out in a jumble. “Because I can’t handle this and the furry stuff.” 
“Yes, caring about your health is a fetish for me. Really gets me off knowing you’ve been a good girl and taken your vitamins.” 
“I knew it.” you whisper. “I’m not calling you daddy if that’s what you want.” 
Soonyoung laughs and the movement sends another bolt of pain through your skull. He tuts over your responding whimper and what may be his lips press to the side of your head briefly. It’s warm and comforting, the beat of his heart lulling you into the first satisfying rest since you woke up. Your hands bunching the front of his shirt are desperate for anything to keep you steady. 
Thankfully, he doesn’t release you while setting things up for a shower; accommodating for your weight with a slow shuffle and more placating coos against your hairline every time you protest a sudden jostle. The chill of the bathroom fully sets in when he pushes down your sweats and shucks off your snot stained sweater before tossing away his own. If you weren’t barely functioning it might even be impressive that he’s kept you in his arms the entire time.
“If you’re trying to fuck me, I hope you don’t mind snot.” You blow your nose against the curve of his neck just to be a bitch. 
You feel more naked under the stream of water than you ever have, which is ironic given you’ve had Soonyoung face to crotch more times than you can count. Something about the non-sexual nature of nudeness, feeling the least sexy you ever have while he scrubs you down with gentle hands, turns your stomach more than before.
“I’m not trying to fuck you,” he laughs again; a thousand volts straight to the heart. “Don’t worry.” 
You pop out of hiding, hurt by the idea. “You don’t want to fuck me?” 
Soonyoung’s face is soft, cheeks round and hair already damp to his forehead. He isn’t disgusted by the puke on your breath or the sweat matting your hair. Or if he is, he hides it well. “I always want to fuck you but right now I’m trying to make sure you don’t die.” 
You dive back into his shoulder, mind numb to anything beyond the silky feel of hands washing away days of ick. You’ve felt his hands on almost every part of your body but right now they lack the characteristic urgency from those moments where you can’t get enough of each other quick enough. He’s touching you the way he does in the glow of the moon after you’ve both been satisfied, when Soonyoung thinks you’re asleep and you let him as every curve and dip and hill of your body is covered in gentle strokes like he’s committing you to memory.
“I can do that on my own,” you argue. 
The facts aren’t stacked in your favor right now but it’s the principle: you don’t need him to take care of you. You can handle it on your own. He’s only here because you let him.
“Oh, I know. Now close your eyes so I don’t get soap in them.”
He cups your face, thumbs rubbing away the sweat that's been caked on since morning. Then it’s a rough washcloth doused in the scent of your face wash but you swat it away in favor of the calluses on his fingers. If you weren’t a dead woman walking he’d never get a chance to be this close. 
How is it more terrifying for someone to wipe away your boogers than let him see you naked multiple times a week? A question knotting your stomach into tight pieces as Soonyoung hums some tune you don’t recognize like he’s more than happy to do so.
Your brain stops working after so long; too exhausted from everything to think more about what this all means. Not even the familiar flat press of his front against yours can incite a response beyond content. All the world shrinks into the pitter patter of the water swirling around the drain, and the parts that are warmed by Soonyoung and the parts that are waiting to be.
When you come back to awareness, the waters off and he is whispering something into your clammy forehead.
“Hmmm?” 
“I said, it’s time to get out.”
More shuffling gets you back into your room where the mattress takes your weight while he digs around for fresh clothes. You roll onto your side, clad in a towel and nothing else, resound to fall asleep then and there.
“Alright, arms up,” he commands. 
You try to pull away, diving back into the pillow soaked from your hair but Soonyoung gets you up at the waist, maneuvering stiff limbs patiently.
“Do you have an armpit fetish too?” you ask with the collar stuck around the top of your head. 
“And you call me a freak?”
Next is pants, and it takes a few tries for you to even consider being helpful. Soonyoung lifts each leg individually, working the fabric as far as he can. Then a few dramatic grunts from coordinating your entire body weight but you’re back in a clean pair of pajamas and tucked under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t rise to any more of your snide remarks about being naked. He simply avoiding your bare skin like it’d burn. Not even his favorite thing about you (boobs) gets any attention, just a few chuckles and more kisses into your temple.
You melt into the plush mattress, hidden beneath a pile of blankets from the cruel world that cursed you with new realizations you're not prepared for just yet. 
Eyes closed the entire time, you hear Soonyoung leave without so much as a goodbye. In theory it’s what you want. Exactly how you prefer; you alone, him somewhere you can pretend all the confounding feelings don’t exist. You didn’t even want him to show up in the first place, but now that he’s been here and you’re horrifically aware how nice it feels to have someone take care of you. You miss him. 
And as soon as the pit opens up, you hear someone shuffling down the hall coming towards your room.
“Alright, once you eat something you can sleep.”
The thought of food tightens your stomach more than the fact he didn’t leave you but he’s right. You need fluids and you’re not strong willed enough to get them yourself.
After the first few bites, you feel a little more human and less like a walking sack of shit. With it, the discomfort of this entire ordeal rears with a new vengeance. 
“Why are you here?” It sounds like an accusation.
He doesn’t even miss a beat. “Because I like you.” 
Soonyoung says it matter of factly, the same way the sky is blue and water is wet, while shoving another bite into your mouth.
You’re too exhausted for a fight right now; not with the only person making a real effort to keep you alive, but the instinct is strong after years of low expectations and plenty of disappointment.
“Why?” 
“Because I just do.” 
Your eyes meet over the spoon. He doesn’t look annoyed or perturbed or even angry. He likes you whether you like it or not. 
“I don’t date.” 
“Okay,” he agrees, wiping at the spill dripping from your chin.
“You aren’t gonna argue?” 
“Nope.” He pops the ‘p’ and your need for confrontation with it. “You don’t wanna date? That’s fine. I’ll take whatever I can get, even if that’s spoon feeding you on your deathbed.” 
You take the next bite before commenting, “You’re so weird.” 
“I like you too. Now open up for the airplane.” He makes the noise and the medicine twists your brain into actually finding it funny. “How are you pretty even when you’re blowing your nose on my shirt?”
“Deal with the devil.”
He passes you a cold cup when you brush away the remainder of the soup. One sip is all it takes.
“How did you know I like the orange Gatorade?”
“I asked Jun to give me June’s number and she gave me Hazel’s number and I asked while I was at the store.”
“You went through all that trouble just to buy me the right Gatorade?” you snort.
“It really wasn’t any trouble.”
It isn’t but it’s more than anyone else has ever done for you. The fresh wave of nausea has nothing to do with your cold.
“I’m tired,” you tell him. 
The mess is cleaned up in silence. You pretend to fall asleep and Soonyoung lets you until he’s shoving more medicine your way. 
You shake your head, failing to refuse because Soonyoung is doing that dumb airplane nose again and when you cough up a laugh he shoves the spoon in your mouth and you’re left with no choice but to swallow.
Then he’s up and you watch through heavy eyes as he gathers his things. You’ll blame it on the drugs loosening the clutch you have on your emotions later.
“Where are you going?” you ask with faux apathy, negated by the fist tangled in the hem of his sweatshirt in case he evaporates away.
“Home. Unless…you want me to stay?” A tug at the sweater is your answer to that horrible thought. “Oh, thank god – I was getting sad.”
You roll over, offering him your back to curl around. The muscles tensed around your spine soften when he does. 
I sleep better when you’re here.
You won’t tell him that but Soonyoung stiffens for a moment and the fear you’ve said the wrong thing creeps in where fatigue hasn’t rooted just yet. But a kiss to your covered shoulder and a hand under your sweater, flat against your stomach so you stay as close as possible calms the thoughts enough you can drift off.
It’s strange. Having the heat of his body at your back without the limpness of a good fuck still coursing through your veins to thaw the parts that hate pillow talk and the stickiness that come with it.
What's even stranger is that you don’t really mind it all. If anything, it’s actually pretty nice.
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Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie
@gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire
@missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu @sliceofwoozi @writingbarnes
@dokyeomkyeom @christinewithluv @minwonfairy @idkjustlovingbts @wobblewobble822 @futuristicenemychaos
© highvern. copying/reuploading/translating my work anywhere is strictly prohibited.
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hayakawalove · 18 days ago
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Cravings
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Summary: Suguru decides he wants to quit smoking, but he can't do it without the help of his partners.
A/N: ME WRITING A POLY SATOSUGU FIC? UNHEARD OF... No but I know it's been awhile, I'm sorry. I am going to get back into them once kinktober is done. This fic isn't super long or descriptive, I just wanted to write something simple from an idea I had. I hope you enjoy! Comments are appreciated!
CW: SFW, Fluff, Slight Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Polyamory, Suggestive Themes, Smoking, Addiction, Food, Cigarettes, Alternate Universe, Supportive Partners, Gender Neutral Reader W/C: 3,136
Credit to cafekitsune for the banner
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“Are you sure about this?” Satoru asks, leaning against the door as he watches Suguru. 
Suguru looks up from the fridge, his lips pulled down in a slight pout. He doesn’t know how cute he looks like that. 
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” 
Satoru tosses a look your way before rolling his eyes. The glance was worth a thousand words. You chuckle to yourself and pick at your pants, trying not to eavesdrop on the conversation. 
“I don’t know. Maybe cause you’ve smoked since you were in highschool?” 
Suguru stands up at that, knocking the fridge door closed with his hip. He’s holding a multitude of ingredients in his hands, all things required for your meal. He sets them down on the counter with a grunt, before looking over his shoulder at Satoru. 
“If you don’t have any faith in me, just say that.” 
The words don’t cut like they should. His voice is soft around the edges, the comment may even be mistaken for a joke. It might be an attempt at humor on Suguru’s part, but you can tell there’s underlying truth there. 
“No, no I do. But you know… in case you don’t make it,” Satoru says your name. “Wanna place a bet?” 
Suguru raises a brow at Satoru before scoffing, shaking his head as he looks down to start on lunch. 
As funny as that would be, you can’t bring yourself to do it. You knew Suguru was going to struggle, and you couldn’t bet on his downfall. 
Not in good faith, anyway. 
“Don’t be mean, Satoru.” You murmur, standing up to patter over towards Suguru. 
His bottom lip is jutted out ever so slightly, creating a minuscule frown on his face. If you didn’t know him any better, it would be easy to miss. But you do know him. And you know him well. Satoru’s commentary was getting to him. He must actually be nervous about the situation, and that fact tugs at your heart strings. 
“I for one think Suguru is more than capable.” You wrap a hand around Suguru’s slender waist, pulling him beside you. 
From the corner of your eye you catch a glimpse of a smirk on his face. You return the act, letting your lips brighten up. Satoru rolls his eyes playfully before taking a seat at the bar across from you. He rests his head on his hand, watching the two of his lovers in front of him. 
“Thank you, baby.” Suguru speaks with such reverence it almost makes you flustered. 
“I believe in him too! It’s just surprising is all.” Satoru says. “This came out of nowhere.” 
It did. You were sort of curious what spurred the moment on, but you figured Suguru would tell you if it was relevant. 
Suguru looks slightly uneasy, reaching around to scratch at his neck. You watch the movement carefully, well versed in his body language enough to know that something is up. 
“Well I mean, it’s bad for you isn’t it?” He begins. 
It was. 
“Yeah, but that’s never stopped you before.” You murmur. 
“They’re also gross too, if that’s any consolation.” Satoru leans back in his chair. 
They were. 
Suguru chuckles and leans forward, propping himself up with his arms against the countertop. He still looks like he's thinking about something you're not privy to. 
“I just want to be healthy with you guys.” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. 
You and Satoru share a look. It was a moment of tenderness that was normal coming from Suguru, but it still struck you in the heart nonetheless. You reach up and run an arm down Suguru’s bicep, smiling brightly at him. The act doesn’t ease his nerves like you were hoping it would. You nibble the inside of your cheek and pinch his hip before bringing your hand back. Suguru jumps slightly at the action before returning to cooking. 
“So, are you scared?” You ask, curiosity leaking from your tone. 
“I’m not scared,” His tone wobbles at the end. “I’m just…anxious.” 
Satoru’s eyes flit between the two of you while he bounces his leg out of habit. 
“Do you have anything to use as backup? For when you get the cravings?” You ponder.
Suguru’s expression is thoughtful for a moment. He always thought things through, so you were sure he would have some type of plan. 
“No, not really. I was planning on quitting cold turkey.”
You hum at that, rounding the counter to sit next to Satoru. It’s easy to tell that Suguru wants to drop the topic by the way he's avoiding your gaze, so you do, if only for his sake. 
~~~
It’s been two weeks. 
It’s a quiet evening. The lights are dimmed and the room is silent between you and Suguru. The two of you sit on the couch in the living room, keeping yourselves entertained. You scroll through your phone with your feet propped up in Suguru’s lap, while he sits next to you with a book in his hand. It’s a well loved novel, the edges of the papers crinkled from years of use. 
Every few seconds you feel his fingers strum against your ankle, the touch so light it almost feels nonexistent. It’s peaceful. 
Suguru’s more or less been doing good in his endeavor. He's been a bit more antsy, a bit more jittery. But he hasn't relapsed, not even once. 
Satoru walks in, strolling leisurely until he plops on the other side of the couch beside you. Suguru briefly looks up with an eyebrow raised before returning to his book, an unamused expression on his face. 
“What’re you guys up to?” Satoru asks, his voice loud, reverberating off the walls. 
You’re engrossed in your phone, so you decide to let Suguru respond. 
“Reading.” His voice is short. 
Satoru plays with your hair for a moment before leaning over to grab the tv remote. He turns it on, either willfully ignoring or not noticing the glare Suguru sends his way. 
“Turn it down.” Suguru says, keeping his eyes focused on the novel in front of him. 
If you look close enough, you can see the twitch of his eyebrow. 
Satoru’s face changes to incredulous. “What? No. I wanna watch something.” 
“Satoru,” Suguru warns, speaking calmly. 
“It’s just this part that’s loud, it’s gonna be quiet again, hold on.” Satoru murmurs, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. 
“I said turn it down!” Suguru’s voice raises. 
The room stills immediately. Suguru never raised his voice. You’ve known him for countless years, and never once has he yelled. You peer around your phone at him before looking back at Satoru, half afraid a fight would break out. 
You’re expecting Satoru to at least look slightly bothered, but he doesn’t. His mouth is straight, and his eyes are the same as they always are, wide with curiosity. You would almost think he hadn’t heard Suguru. He did though, as Satoru turns the tv off and stands up straight. 
Suguru looks mortified. His eyes are like saucers, with his bottom lip trembling. You think it may have bothered him more than anyone else. 
“Satoru, I” he begins to chew the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry,” 
Satoru gives a toothy grin as if nothing had happened. Under any other circumstance, the moment would have been a cause for concern. Suguru would only get visibly upset if something was wrong. But the two of you were expecting this. You were expecting his fuse to be a bit shorter, his temperament to be a bit worse. 
Satoru saunters over to you, lifting your chin up to place a kiss against your lips. It's gentle, nothing at all like what you’re used to coming from him, before he pulls away. 
“Cranky, aren’t we?” He directs at the other man, stepping over towards Suguru. 
Suguru’s watching with wide eyes. He doesn’t really know what to expect. Satoru’s a wild card even on his good days, especially on his good days. 
Satoru lowers himself to Suguru’s eye level before wrapping his hand around the back of his neck. He gives a little squeeze, not hard by any means but it catches Suguru off guard. Satoru brings his face close to Suguru’s, close enough that they share the same air. Suguru’s unconsciously leaning forward, the magnetic pull of Satoru’s lips too hard to resist. 
Unfortunately for Suguru, Satoru likes to play a bit too much. He pulls away before the two of them connect, an evil smirk on his face as he appreciates the confused look on Suguru’s features. 
You can almost hear the cogs in Suguru’s brain turning. He's realizing he got swindled, by his own fault of course. 
“I'm going to go watch tv in the bedroom, let me know when Suguru decides to behave.” 
Well that was rich coming from Satoru of all people. 
Satoru takes his leave as the two of you watch. It was hard not to feel bad for Suguru. It wasn’t necessarily his fault he was in a bad mood. 
“Hey, you know he’s just teasing.” You aren’t sure why you’re telling Suguru that. 
You’re sure he knows Satoru isn't being serious, but his bottom lip is still jutted out in a pout. 
Suguru flicks his eyes over to you before back down, where he skims through the book. He must be embarrassed. There's a distinct pink tint covering his cheeks and he looks jittery. Suguru never lost his cool, so you can only imagine how he feels now. 
Luckily for him, it doesn’t change your opinion of him at all. 
You toss your phone beside you before making your way over to his side of the couch. The well loved piece of furniture creaks slightly as you crawl towards him. Suguru doesn’t know what you’re doing, but he still sets his book aside. He purposely avoids your eyes while you ease on his lap, his hands grasping at your waist to settle you. You almost want to tease him a bit too, but you aren’t Satoru. You’ll wait until he’s more stable. You don't have the heart to tease him when he looks so fragile. 
“That was kinda mean of him, huh?” You murmur, keeping your voice low. 
He looks so disappointed in himself. You bite back a coo, your body nearly threatening to let it loose. 
Suguru finally meets your eyes. Pool of caramel stares right back into yours, making your stomach flip. Even if he was grumpy, he was still cute. You grab onto the front of his shirt, twisting it in your hands. He hums in response, partially because while it was mean, Satoru wasn't wrong. 
“Are you craving a cigarette right now?” 
“I'm always craving one, that’s the problem.” His voice sounds like it means to be agitated, but instead it comes off annoyed. Not at you, never at you. 
“What about it are you craving?” You ask, playing with one of the dark strands of his hair. 
He never takes his eyes off you, even when you’re looking away. 
“The taste.” 
For a second you think he may be lying. Who would want the taste of a cigarette? But when you look at him you notice he’s being completely sincere. You suppose after years of use, the flavor may be comforting. 
You lean forward, letting your lips graze against his. Instead of following Satoru’s lead, you press your mouth against Suguru. He greedily accepts, leaning into you a bit more than he usually does. Typically, he's the calm and composed one. Suguru breathes harder as his lips attach to yours, as if he’s holding himself back from devouring you whole. There’s a notable lack of tobacco on his breath. The taste of your peach lip balm bleeds into his mouth, coating his lips and gums until it's all he can taste. 
When you pull away he almost looks delirious. He's panting a bit and his eyes are low. “What was that for?” He questions, darting his tongue out to lick up your saliva that paints his bottom lip. 
“So you can focus on the flavor of something else instead.” 
If you were to peer inside Suguru, you would see how he wants to consume you whole. You would see how his chest aches to have you completely. 
But you can’t see inside him. 
Suguru attempts to play it cool, letting a gentle smile spread over his mouth as he reaches up to fix your hair. You lean into the touch, feeling relieved that your Suguru is back. 
“Thank you, sweetheart.” He says lowly, gratitude obvious from his words. 
You couldn’t take away the pain completely, but you could at least do this much.
~~~
“Plus, Shoko is being the worst about it. I swear she’s smoking more just to tick me off.”
“I'm sure she doesn’t mean to. She probably wants to quit just as bad.”
The silence between you is deafening. She definitely didn’t want to. 
“You know she doesn’t.” Suguru replies, unconvinced with your words. 
You can’t really argue there. 
“Okay, but just ignore her!” 
The hum of the cars driving by fills the air around the two of you as you wait outside the convenience store. Satoru all but dragged you both here, telling you to wait outside while he grabbed something. Suguru leans against the wall, trying not to eye the poor soul who was squatting several feet away and lighting up. 
A special form of torture. 
To distract him you bury yourself in his chest, hugging until he relents and wraps his arms around you. The air is slightly chilly, but that feeling immediately dissipates the second he engulfs you. You push your face against his chest and inhale, breathing in the sweet scent of your laundry detergent. Normally, his clothes smell reminiscent of tobacco, the scent never welcoming on its own but because it belonged to Suguru you liked it. Now, your lungs are filled with only his cologne and deodorant. 
“Are you smelling me?” He asks with a cocked brow, petting your back and looking down at your head. 
“No-“ your voice is slightly hard to hear against his body. 
At that, you take another large sniff to which he clicks his tongue and squeezes you against him tighter. A bell sounds out, signaling the door next to you was opening. Satoru comes waltzing out with a noisy plastic bag, shaking it around to announce his arrival. 
“Hey lovebirds,” he comments, voice muffled due to the lollipop sticking from his pink pouty lips. 
Suguru breathes out a chuckle and reaches above your figure, not a hard feat by any means, and drags Satoru’s collar closer to the two of you. Satoru tugs the candy from his lips in preparation. His body collides with the back of yours, leaving you no room for escape as Suguru roughly kisses him. 
You wonder what the sight looks like to strangers. Is it weird? You don’t care. 
You pretend to flail around beneath them, but they ignore it. Satoru tenderly places a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he kisses Suguru. 
“Hey handsome.” Suguru speaks against Satoru’s lips.
Not only is he more grumpy, but he's much more forward now. Not that he was ever really subtle to begin with. 
Satoru steps back to give you space to which you gratefully accept, sticking your head up to take a deep breath of air. 
“Dramatic,” Satoru comments with a grin.
“Bite me-“ you taunt back. 
Satoru sticks his mouth open again, darting his bright red tongue out to lick the candy. Your stomach drops at the sight, and you assume that was probably his goal. He sticks the lollipop back in his mouth. 
“Careful. Maybe I will.” 
Suguru turns your body around and tugs you until your back lands against his chest. He rests his head on top of yours, using the height difference to his advantage. 
“What did you buy?” He questions, wrapping his arms around your stomach to keep you in place. 
“Something for you.” Satoru responds, talking around the candy in his mouth. 
“Any chance it’s a pack?” 
Satoru laughs at that. The sound is heavenly to you, its heartiness filling your body with love. “I’d die before buying one of those things.” 
Satoru seamlessly slides the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other, before looking down at the bag in his hands. It's droopy with weight, and curiosity has peaked in your veins. 
Satoru finds what he's looking for, producing another lollipop. It’s blue raspberry, you manage to read the label before he tears off the wrapping. 
“For you.” He says, stepping closer again. 
He shoves the candy into Suguru’s mouth, muffling the protests that were beginning to pour out. Satoru looks happy with himself as he stands back, admiring the sight in front of him. His two sweethearts. 
You look up, seeing the stick poke from Suguru’s lips. It’s reminiscent of a cigarette, but instead of being bitter and toxic it’s sugary and sweet. 
“I figured you might miss having something in your mouth. I even got the bag with your favorite flavor!” Satoru says with a grin. 
It’s a smart idea. 
Even if Suguru looks slightly irritated. 
“Oh come on! Don’t be like that!” Satoru pouts. “I would offer to give your mouth something else, but we are in public.” 
Suguru scoffs, his eyes darting away. You can see the way he sucks the flavor from the candy, his jaw ticking as he thinks. 
“So, does it help?” The white haired menace asks. 
Suguru fiddles with the stick for a moment, debating on his response. “No.” 
That means it was helping. He looks a bit reluctant to admit it, but his shoulders sag slightly with relief. Suguru probably just didn’t want to tell Satoru. 
Satoru takes the hint and chuckles to himself before opening the bag again, pointing it in your direction. When you peer inside you see a multitude of sweets. Lollipops, chocolate, and popping candy fill the bag. The colors are bright, mixtures of red, blues, and yellows filling the plastic. 
It was a typical shopping trip for Satoru. 
You grab a strawberry lollipop and unwrap it before placing it in your mouth, the sweet flavor all but melting on your tongue. The three of you all match now, white sticks poking from your lips as you begin the long trek home. 
It was definitely hard for Suguru, but slowly it got easier. Blue wrappers take the place of empty cigarette cartons, the evidence littered throughout Suguru’s car and drawers. It’s hard work, but at least he has you and Satoru. Over time he gets better, with the help of peach lip balm and raspberry lollipops. 
Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @kimi01985, @sad-darksoul, @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni, @mikisspeak, @dinolvrrr, @sakui1, @reiluvr, @gothiccwhore666, @bunviixo, @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat
If you want to be added to my taglist please just let me know, just specify what you want to be added to
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novvabee · 17 days ago
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And They Were Roommates pt.3
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Summary: Sirius gives you a ride
The whole morning was a rush, one big disastrous rush. It started with you jolting awake in a panic, your alarm on your phone didn’t go off. You quickly searched around for it and found that you hadn’t plugged it in to charge last night. Cursing you hastily plugged it in to at least get some charge before work.
You rushed to the bathroom, flipping on the shower and brushing your teeth while waiting for the water to warm up, which took a considerably long time due to James showering earlier. You jumped in, water still half cold, and showered in a frenzy, water surely flying everywhere in the bathroom. You jumped out, toweled off and wrapped it around your body before rushing back into your room. You would usually dress before going back into your room, being that the bathroom was down the hall, and you didn't want to run into any embarrassing situations like having one of the boys see you dripping wet without any clothes, but you had no time today.
In your room you looked for something to wear, settling on a long sleeve top and some jeans, throwing a jacket on top, and a plain pair of shoes. This would be fine for working all day, comfortable. You picked up your phone, reading that it was only at 5% charged. You groaned and texted Lily,
Cover for me, im gonna be late
She replied only moments later,
Im sick love, i wont be in either… how are you getting there?
You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Lily usually picked you up in the mornings, you were on the way. But now… you don't have a car. You unplugged your phone and shoved it in your pocket, making your way downstairs. Maybe you can catch the train, it’ll pop you out a few blocks away but… maybe the bus? You were going to be so late, you started accepting that you were going to be fired.
Reaching the last step, you see Remus and Sirius lounging on the big, comfy couch. Remus reading a book and Sirius reading a magazine, legs entangled with each other. They looked quite at ease, until they noticed that you had entered. Sirius immediately removed his legs from Remus’s and sat correctly on the couch. You didn’t note the slight panic and red tint on their faces. “Oh, hi boys, um I’m running super late.” you said nearly out of breath. “I overslept.”
“Is there anything we can do?” asked Remus.
“Uh… Do you think the train or the bus would be faster? I think if I can minimize how late I am I may be able to salvage my job.” You joked. The boys didn’t quite laugh.
“What?” Sirius asked.
“I mean, which one is faster? Do you know?”
The boys looked at each other, then back at you. “You're not taking the bus. Nor the train, both are gross.” Remus said
It was your turn to laugh now. “But I have to, I have work and I am already really late and-”
“I’ll take you.” Sirius interrupted. You just blinked.
“No! That’s ok, you two looked comfortable there, I just need-”
“It’s not a problem darling, besides I was just telling Remus that we needed batteries. I was going to head out anyway.” Sirius tried to persuade you.
You were desperate. And you didn’t like to deny the boys when they were so generous. And you really needed this job. “Ok…” you said meekly.
Sirius beamed at you and ran up to his room, likely to grab his keys. You smiled after him. “Don’t let him drive too fast, he has a habit of being a bit reckless.” Remus commented to you now that Mr. Reckless was upstairs.
“I can’t make that promise.” you laughed together
“Alright!,” Sirius called, bounding down the stairs now in a leather jacket. “You warm enough? If not you can have mine” he said rushed. Before you could say bye to Remus, Sirius was grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you after him through the front door. You squealed as you practically ran to keep up with him. You didn’t know that Sirius had a car but it made sense, you pictured maybe a sporty car, probably red. Or black.
You didn't, however, picture a large black motorcycle. You stopped dead in your tracks as Sirius made for the bike and swung a leg over. He held out a hand, beckoning for you to do the same. You again, just blinked. “Sirius…” you started.
“Oh yeah!” he said as if realizing his mistake and grabbing his matching black helmet, handing it to you. “Come on love, I thought you said you were late.”
“Sirius I can’t get on that!” you protested
“Oh, I’ll help you on-”
“You didn't tell me you had a motorcycle! I thought you'd take me in a car.”
“I didn’t mention it? Huh…”
You rolled your eyes and scoffed. You were desperate but a motorcycle…
“Come on love, I promise I’ll get you there in one piece. I’ll go slow.” he looked at you hopefully. “You can wear my helmet, you can tell me if I’m going too fast, and you can get off anytime you want, though I wouldn’t advise that because you need to get to work quickly.”
Desperate. The only way you’d get on the back of his bike. Desperation.
Taking Sirius’s hand and climbing on behind him, put the helmet on, and your arms around his waist. Squeezing tight. This made Sirius chuckle.
“I still have to be able to breathe, doll,” Sirius said while kicking off. You loosened your death grip but still held on.
Remus was right, Sirius had a habit of driving like a madman. More than a few times you had to yell at him to slow down or be safer. You could tell he was trying, for your sake, but you would hate to see how he normally drives. 
All in all, he did get you there alive, and very quickly. You thanked him and hopped off the bike. “See that wasn’t so bad was it?” he said to you with a smile. You laughed.
“How does my hair look? Ok?” you asked.
“You look gorgeous, love.” This made a noticeable heat rise to your face. “Do you need me to pick you up?”
You weighed your options again; bus, train, death machine with Sirius. You figured, anything could be made fun as long as it was with Sirius, death trap or not. So you nodded and smiled at the boy.
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Taglist : @too-efn-old-to-be-here @cometsghost @eeviee4
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strangemaleswaps · 8 months ago
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Strange Job Swap
“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.
“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!
“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.
“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”
“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”
“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!
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At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.
At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.
The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.
He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes. 
My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.
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I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.
“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”
“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.
“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”
“Because I want to keep my job?”
“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.
“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.
“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”
“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.
When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.
“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.
“To whom it may concern,
Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV
I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person,  but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.
The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.
How to use:
Flip the coin
No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!
It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.
I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.
The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.
What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!
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I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.
I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off. 
Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.
“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.
“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.
“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.
“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.
To whom it may concern,
Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola
Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.
Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes. 
Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.
I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.
I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.
Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.
“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”
“No?” He looked shocked.
“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”
“Really? I can go?”
“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.
As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.
“Hey!”
“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”
“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?
“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”
“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”
“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?” 
He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!
“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”
“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”
God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!
“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”
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random-potat · 4 months ago
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.:・˚₊ let's get out of here
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pairings: theo x fem!reader ft. intak, and chaeryeong and ryujin of itzy
synopsis: with parties not bring your forte, trying to find a way out unexpectedly leads to meeting someone new.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: mild swearing, poor attempts at humour, alcohol consumption
a/n: ahhhh! first written oneshot and it's for theo!! hope you guys enjoy, this honestly took me a while cause although i have the plot in my head im just too lazy to actually write it lol, but worry not as i am working on future fics and ideas ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
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Bodies. Alcohol. Sweat. More bodies. More alcohol. More sweat.
"Gross," you thought. "Clearly, parties aren’t my forte." 
You walk over to the crowd, searching for your friends, Chaeryeong and Ryujin. After what feels like being pushed over 20 times, you reach your friends.
“You guys, I think I'm going to head home." You fan yourself, acting as if you feel faint, “feeling kind of lightheaded.”
Chaeryeong turns to you, pushing you to a more quiet area. "Are you ok? It's pretty late right now. Why don't you take a nap upstairs in Intak's room? He said that none of his roommates are here right now. That way, we can go home together."
You nod your head in agreement. "Ryujin was my ride home anyway." You glance back at her, seeing her drunkenly dance around "that is if she's sober enough."
"Which way is Intak's bedroom? I don't want any of his roommates to find some random girl sleeping in their bed." 
"It's the second room on the left."
"OK, wake me up when you guys are done."
"Rest well," Chaeryeong says as you watch her head back to the rest of your friends on the dance floor.
Going upstairs was much more of a challenge than you expected. With people's bodies on top of one another and smoke fumes going through your face, it just wasn't a fun time. Nevertheless, once you make it to the top, you may or may not have forgotten which room to go to.
"Second door, second door, something. Was it left? Was it right? I have a 50% chance here. Left or right?" You looked both ways, still pondering. "Just gonna go with the right-hand rule."
You walk into the room, “Oh shit- oh, I’m sorry. I guess it was the left door." Forgetting that you were still standing there, you make eye contact with the man in front of you. “Thought this was Intak’s room. Sorry to bother you,” you say as you scratch the nape of your neck.
As he stares at you, he fails to remember that he hasn't responded to you yet. Clearing his throat, his voice begins, “uh- no, no, it’s fine. My fault for forgetting to tell Intak that I came back.”
As the air begins to get more and more awkward, you walk backwards towards the exit of the room. "Well, I'm just gonna head to Intak’s room,” you point behind you.
You turn around halfway before hearing the boy say, "Hey! you wanna head out?” Stopping in your tracks, you question him, “What?”
“Let’s get out of here,” he states more boldly. 
You turn around, eyeing him from outside of the room. “I don’t think that would be the best idea, considering we don’t even know one another.” 
He shrugs. “I mean, I'm sure you have nothing better to do. I'm assuming you came up here to get away from all the madness downstairs.” 
You stare at him with a blank expression. “That was just an idea, you don't have to. You can just head to Intak's room,” he says, panicking while moving his hands around. 
As you hesitantly walk back into his room, you inspect every single corner. Seeing posters and vinyls of rock bands like AC/DC and Queen, with little trinkets scattered around his room. Spotting an electric guitar in the corner of his room, you point towards it, “You play?” 
The boy turns to where you point, and he nods, “Yeah, I dabble. Been practicing Until I Found You on it.” 
You turn back to him, finally making your decision, putting your hand out for him to shake. “I'm YN.”  
He grabs your hand to shake and smiles, “Theo.” 
You smile back at him, “Let's get out of here.”
The two of you guys go out on a journey towards the convenience store. As you walked, you expected a somewhat awkward silence but were met with Theo giving his ear buds to you, “just for us to listen to.”
The familiar tune of Beth by KISS surrounds you. Theo says, “I'm just going on a whim that you may like rock songs.” He turns to you, “Don't think that I didn't see you eyeing my AC/DC vinyl.” 
“I will say your vinyl collection is very impressive," you reply. 
Thankful for the music in your ears, the rest of the walk to the convenience store went by smoothly. Small talk and hearty laughs were exchanged, and with the cool breeze passing by, both of you were completely unaware of the butterflies gradually forming in your stomachs. 
Reaching the convenience store, you head straight to the instant food. Grabbing some Neoguri ramen as well as some instant spicy rice cakes, your drink of choice is some good old-fashioned milk tea. 
Walking back to Theo, he shows you his items. Some jelly, strawberry milk, and honey butter chips. He looks down at what you’ve grabbed and asks, “Was the party food really that bad?”
You sighed, “If there even was food, all I saw was alcohol." You looked back in thought, "although I think I did see a bowl of something in the living room.”
After paying for your snacks, the both of you head to a nearby park to hang out.
Sitting down together on a bench and munching on your snack, the night passes by in a blur. Long conversations were held with your guys’ laughter, which could be heard from a mile away. Interests were exchanged, heavy on the topics of interest you both shared.
Finding a similar interest in Harry Potter, questions were being asked back and forth, “Ok, but no, which Harry Potter movie is the best one though?” Theo asks. “Definitely Prisoner of Azkaban, it’s also the best book, and no one could tell me otherwise,” you replied.
Finding out about Theo’s admiration for Emma Watson, you couldn’t help but tease him, “You know, if you dye your hair ginger, you might pass for a Weasley," you say, laughing as he glared at you.
Not knowing the time at all, and with the party long forgotten, your phone blows up with notifications. “I’m going to assume those are my friends." You check the time and realize that you guys have been out for nearly two hours. 
“Holy shit, yeah, we should probably head back. Intak might think I kidnapped you or something.” Theo says as he grabs all the trash.
Arriving back at the house, people can be seen leaving as they're helping their tipsy friends, with some people looking like they're going to stay back for a little bit longer. You spot your friends, looking worried, on the porch with Intak.  
They spot you, putting up their hands to wave at you. As you wave back at them, you turn back to Theo, “guess this is me. It was really fun hanging out with you tonight. Although I was a bit skeptical at first.” 
Theo puts his hand to his chest, “wow that hurt!” feigning a pained expression. 
“Hey, for all I know, you could've just come into this open party and acted like you were Intak’s friend, just to kidnap someone.” 
“Ok, that’s impossible. You saw all my pictures in my room, which happen to have Intak in them," he replies back. 
“Hey, you never know. That could all have been a front that you've planned for months.” 
“Really, YN? Maybe you need to lay off the true crime documentaries for a while.” 
Not really knowing how to leave one another, you both speak at the same time.
“I think my fri-” 
“We should prob-”
 Theo speaks first, “We should probably head inside. Are you staying over?” 
You shake your head. “Nope, class tomorrow, plus I'm pretty sure Ryujin might collapse any time now,” you say as you glance at your friends, who are now heading over. 
“YNNIE!” Ryujin screams, “i missed yuh sooooo muschhhh,” she slurred as she tackled you into a hug. “I was dancing all on the floor thing an YOU were out with a man. like whyyyy? ah we not enuf fir you?” 
You lift her up, putting your arms around her to support her weight. “Okay, now I think it's time for you to head into the car.”. 
You glance back at Theo, “hopefully I’ll see you around?” 
He nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 
As you watch Theo head back to his house, Chaeryeong nudges you with her elbow. “Soo, what’d you guys do?” she teases. 
“Definitely not whatever you’re thinking, that's for sure. C'mon, help me put Ryujin in the car.” 
"Oh, come one, give me the details,” she whines. You shake your head. “Maybe tomorrow morning, when you guys are both sober.” 
“Pinky promise?” 
“Pinky promise.”
As Theo walks towards the house, Intak comes into view with his dopey smile. 
“Stop looking at me like that.” 
“Like what?” Intak replies.
“Like that," Theo waves his hands, “like you’re all knowing or whatever.” 
Intak puts his hands up in surrender. "Look, I'm just saying it seems like you and YN hit it off,” he smiles again, “plus I know she’s single.” He wiggles his eyebrows. 
"Oh, shut up!”
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daytaker · 10 months ago
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greetings from clown anon, adored the fic very silly <33
i apologise if i’m filling up your inbox but may i ask for an mc that’s a mortician? that or is just desensitised to death and knows a lot about it, like i imagine whenever the brothers in early season 1 used to do like very specific threats mc would be like “uh actually that’s not how that works” essentially acting like a bit of a smart ass completely glossing over the actual threat
thanksies in advance (´∀`*)
Clown Anon MCs - [ Clowncore MC | Death-Fixated Science Geek MC | LeVeyan Satanist MC ]
(I'll be real I have no memory of the specific threats and I was too lazy to go look for them but I will follow along the lines of the prompt anyway.)
I'm going to do this one in bullet point form. Hope that's okay.
(CW: a bit gross at times. not quite gore.)
Now I Am Become MC, Destroyer of Worlds: A Death-Fixated Main Character in Obey Me!
Read below the cut.
They're extremely curious about demon anatomy. And not in a kinky way. They want to see how similar the structure and layout of demon organs are to human organs. They want to get full body X-rays when those wings and tails pop up. They want to get it on video when they appear and disappear. Because what the fuck. Yeah, yeah, they get it, magic exists, but still, what the fuck?!
They fully expect Beel to keel over and die one day from overeating. There is no way any single individual can consume the way he does and survive. They're actually hoping that if he does, they'll be able to carry out the post-mortem and see what exactly was going on with that stomach of his. I mean, yes, they'll be very sad he's gone, but at least he'll have died as a martyr to science!
Dead shadow hog? Taxidermied. Dead fire newt? Taxidermied. Dead devil zebra? Brought home, dissected, taxidermied. The brothers don't really like to go to their room because of the constant dizzying stench of formaldehyde that comes from it.
Sometimes they'll just sit and stare at one of the brothers. If asked what they're doing, they'll simply say, "Observing." Reactions to this range from Beel's "Oh, okay," to Levi's "I'M GOING TO MY ROOM AND NEVER LEAVING FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE."
So Solomon's immortal, is he? How immortal, exactly? Is it just that he'll never die from old age? Could he die of a disease? Surely he could die from injuries, right? Has he tested this? Can they test it? Please?
....Please?
Wait, wait, wait. Satan came from where? How? Why? What the hell? Lucifer, take your shirt off, they need to do some investigating. Satan, you too. Lucifer, show them your back. No scars? Not even from ripping your own wings off? Hm. Satan, do you have a bellybutton? ...That's weird, you definitely didn't need an umbilical cord. And you're saying he came out full-sized? Stop telling them it's magic! Magic is just science that people don't understand yet.
Actually, all of you get in here and strip, this has been a long time coming. MC needs to figure out what the hell is happening here.
Why not?
Pleeeease?
Satan, let's talk about one of your murder mysteries! They do this exactly one time, and never again because MC kept interrupting to point out plot holes and inconsistencies. It was so annoying. It kind of ruined the genre for him for a little while.
Leviathan, MC wants to ask you about how you survive underwater. Levi--- Hey, where are you going? Levi?
They write their paper on comparative anatomy of demons, angels, and humans. Diavolo gets a little queasy after the first page and gives them an A. He doesn't want to read the rest, he trusts they did a thorough job.
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aritamargarita · 5 months ago
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ATTITUDE || 002
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we are so back its not even funny.…chat put W’s and 1’s in the chat. also if u catch this on ao3 im trying to fix the spacing it just ruined everything omg. (I FIXED IT)
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WITH NEW RESURGENCE of WCW wrestlers, the WWF has a brand new problem on their hands. Under pressure, Vince decides to create the Invasion pay-per-view, an entire show dedicated to WWF vs WCW. In turn, Shane initiates your undercover plan. Oh, and Trish Stratus also gives you a proper thank you for helping her out. Lita isn't too welcoming, though. Matt isn’t either..
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All of you had heard the announcement of Invasion just this morning. Supposedly, you and your team would fight the WWF next month, culminating in a winner-takes-all match.
You figure Shane was making his calls to let everyone know. You wouldn't be surprised if you were the first to know it, but it's unbelievable. Is the WWF challenging you guys? The answer is yes, but you know they will lose that battle.
This may have been the beginning of the end for that company, and nothing brings you more joy than seeing it crumble beneath your feet. Vince must've felt incredibly pressured by WCW. Dare you say, he felt threatened if he was going as far as making an entire show dedicated to this.
Supposedly, no one knew the entire card yet. The only thing Shane knew was that one of those matches would be Team WWF vs. Team WCW and that he needed extra time to prep everyone for it.
There's an inevitable group meeting to be called; you're sure of it. You don't mind being there one bit. You have to ensure your fellow wrestlers are pumped up with a pep talk before going out there.
Hell, you might even have your own match! So exciting. The only person you could think of them pitting you against is Lita, which you didn't mind at all.
"[Name], your hands are shaking."
Torrie's speaking pulls you out of your thoughts, and you bring up your hands to look at them.
You are shaking, and you find it incredibly hard to stop, as much as you try to will your body to.
"Ooh, you are!" She exclaims, looking over you again. "Like, really bad."
The black leathery couch creaks as you shift in your spot. You two were hanging out backstage at the next show, just as Shane requested.
There's gotta be something else you could do instead of sitting around like this. You wish you could run some interference, but as of tonight, you're trying to get into Team WWF's good graces.
You grimace at the thought. That is NOT your company, nor will it ever be. It even feels wrong to think that you belong to them.
You try to twist and turn one of your hands, but you're still jittering. "Sorry." You quickly apologize. "No idea why I can't stop."
When Torrie says absolutely nothing, you turn over to her. It's like she's examining you, but the awed look on her face is starting to agitate you.
She exhaled sharply and pointed a finger at you with a smile. "I get it now! You're nervous!" She exclaims.
"No," You're quickly denying it. "I'm cold, that's all. There's a draft in this room. I don't know how you're not cold with what you're wearing." You motion to her red jumpsuit cut in possibly the most revealing way ever.
"What's wrong with this?" She asks, looking down at herself. "If we want to get contracts, we'll have to make some sacrifices."
The first thing you say is: "…Ew." And although you mutter out an apology, you still find the implication gross.
 "Anyway," Torrie moves on. "You know there's nothing to worry about. Shane has everything under control!"
"Under control?" You jump out of your seat. "Invasion is next month! We have no idea what they're gonna put on the card. I don't think any of us has control over it, WWF does!"
Whenever you get wound up like that, Torrie would always back off to let you cool off. You'd generally sort it by your lonesome. But with how you're acting this go-around, it seemed like you need her intervention today.
"It's okay! That's why we're here." She reminded. She stands up to look you right in the eye. "To figure out what they're up to."
At first, you don't say anything. All you do is look back at Torrie. She gives you an expectant look, and you suck your teeth in response.
"I know." You say. "It's—"
You two are startled by the door slamming open, nearly falling off its hinges. You can hear Vince McMahon's voice from the outside, which makes you stand on guard.
Two men enter the room instead. They look around, turn the room upside down, move chairs, and look behind some plants.
Could Vince not come in himself? Too cowardly to come in? What a pansy.
A camera follows in right behind them, and you get the notion that you're on live TV. You can't hear it, but the crowd cheers at you and Torrie's appearance.
Torrie instinctively hides behind you. In turn, you do your best to stand strong. You try not to show your nervousness, crossing your arms so that you can hide your hands.
The two men in here were still turning the entire room upside down in search of something. You're not happy that these guys are ruining your "unassigned-assigned" room.
"Excuse me! Are you looking for something?" You finally say.
They freeze in tandem, and one looks at you in realization. They didn't care about your presence at all, huh? "Get in here!" One of the men yells out. "That's the girl with Booker T!"
With those words, Vince McMahon himself storms right into the room. You push Torrie even further behind you when he enters.
"Where the hell is Booker T?!" He gives the room a once over and then turns toward you. "You! You would know! Where is he?!"
"…. He's not here." You answer. The sound of shuffling makes you turn your head to the right. One of the men decided to toss your bag across the floor. "Hey! Watch it, that's mine! What the hell is wrong with you?" 
He slowly turns around. "What?"
"You heard me! "Whoever this guy was, your patience was already running thin. "Don't you have any manners? Pick it up!"
"I'm not picking that damn thing up." He says. Now that you get a better look at him, he looks exactly like the figure you saw at WWF New York.
If your memory serves you correctly, this is Stone Cold Steve Austin. Who just threw your very expensive bag on the floor?
The other guy with medals around his neck leans down and picks it up instead. "Here you go." He reaches it out toward you.
"Kurt, what the hell are you doing?!" He yelled. "She's a WCW girl! You [Name]?"
"Oh." Kurt falters, then drops your bag right onto the floor. Again.
"That's me, yeah." Though you confirm your identity, you feel exasperated. The crowd can't help but laugh. "…Please." You beg. "STOP DROPPING MY BAG." You kneel to pick it up and gently place it on the couch behind you. This time, they won't throw it around as if it had no value.
After that whole debacle, the question remains. "Well, where is he?" Vince asks. You narrow your eyes at him.
It takes everything, and you mean everything, not to insult him. It's all too easy to beat everyone up with a makeshift weapon and leave with Torrie for the rest of the night.
"You didn't hear me before? I said, I don't know." You repeat. "Maybe you should open up your ears, ol—"
"W-We don't know, Mr. McMahon!" Torrie cuts you off quickly. It's for the best. "You see, we're so glad you came here. Our contracts are expiring, and we were looking for something new."
You're sure that they were suspicious. After you attacked Lita, you weren't sure they'd go through with her idea. Torrie, sure. You already know she'll get in because she wasn't guilty, and newsflash: she's also attractive.
You, you're not sure. Obviously, you're attractive, but you may have ruined your chance by jumping on Lita like that. You decide to decorate your white lie with another.
"I just don't want to be a leader. I was told to do that to Lita, and I feel horrible. I don't want to be involved with WCW." You kick up your act to 100 by forcing tears to spring to your eyes, which sells it more. "Shane may even fire me for talking to you…"
"That's what you get when you deal with those classless WCW folk," Kurt snidely remarked, shaking his head. "Am I right, fellas?"
Vince and Austin look at each other for a moment, then nod their heads. Then, Kurt turns to you with his hand out.
"Hi, [Name]. Nice to meet you. I'm Kurt Angle, Olympic gold medalist." He reaches his hand out for you to shake, and you use your non-wet hand to shake it. Sorry about your bag." 
Guess an apology is a good way to start.
"Hello. It's fine." You shake his hand quickly and then return to your sob story. "I guess you're right. That company is classless." 
Torrie rubs your shoulder. "It's okay. It's okay, [Name]." She then turns to Vince. "Will you consider it?"
He's still not convinced. "And you are…..?"
She fills in the blank for him. "Torrie Wilson. From WCW. We would be so honored to work with you."
'We?' You think. Torrie must've been taking French classes. 
Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Seeing as no one's jumping out at them, all three men relax at her words.
"I might be able to tell you where I think he is." When you say that, all three men perk up toward you.
Torrie looks alarmed but quickly calms down in fear of getting caught. You try to reassure her by patting the hand she kept on your shoulder.
"My only request is that you consider hiring us when our contracts go down the drain."
Honestly, you don't know where Booker T is, but you still try to compromise to get in good with them.
"Alright then. I'll do it. But Torrie, it's good to meet you. Very, very good." Vince was clearly trying to make moves on your blonde friend. "Maybe this weekend, dinner?"
Before Torrie can respond, you're quick to answer him. " We," You emphasize, "—can meet you at the show. No dinner, sorry. I don't think we'll be hungry."
Austin is pleased to hear it. "That sounds good. We don't need her. Then we'll go to dinner, Vince. I'll clear my schedule."
Kurt immediately jumps on the bandwagon. "Me too. I'll be there."
Austin shakes his head. "…We don't need you."
You clear your throat, making everyone look at you. "If you wanna know, I'm 99% sure Booker T is somewhere in the locker rooms. He could be looking for you guys like you're looking for him."
You can see them get all hyped up at your reveal, so you hope that was the push so they can get the fuck out of here.
Kurt is the only one who thanks you; he mutters it while vigorously shaking your hand one last time.
And thankfully, it was the push. They weren't sticking around for too long. At the very least, the three bid you and Torrie a quick goodnight and bolted out the door.
It must be important to find him. It's too bad you pointed them in the wrong direction. You knew that he wasn't anywhere near the stadium yet.
The more they looked, the more they wouldn't expect his appearance. They'll think he's not there at all, and the next time they're defenseless…WHAM! They won't see it coming!
God, you need to find a way to top that. Booker T is beating you in that department! You pray that Shane wouldn't actually get rid of you because you weren't performing up to standard.
You've got this. All you have to do is start plotting in your hotel room. You won't ask Shane what he thinks should be done. You'll spring the idea on him instead.
You wipe the crocodile tears, swiping a few fingers under your eye to not smudge the makeup you had on. Torrie walks over to the door and peeks out to ensure they're gone. She gently closes the door behind her afterward.
"When they came in, you looked like you were about to scream." She says.
You snicker. "I wish I could tell you how uncomfortable that entire exchange made me. Starting from pretending I'm something I'm not to that McMahon being around making me gag."
"I could've handled it myself." She starts. "But I still appreciate you saying something. We definitely wouldn't have gotten those contracts if you said anything more than that."
Yes, sometimes you could say some crazy things, but it's not always your intention to! Things tend to slip out of your mouth. You're just speaking your truth…
People have told you before that you like to speak about what's on your mind. Whether that was bad or good was always left to your interpretation.
"Pretty much. Anyway, we should split up." You suggest. "I'm going to try to apologize to Lita. Maybe I can find other people in the meantime."
"Oooh, you're finally deciding to make friends! Now you don't need to bother me and Stacy anymore." Torrie teased.
"I'm not gonna be friends with anyone in here!" You clarify. Seriously, you wouldn't be caught dead hanging with someone from here. "Besides, you guys love me and would get jealous of seeing me with anyone else."
She smiles at you. "Hmm, we get jealous? I'll have to get back to you on that."
You try to stay in your itty bitty circle for the most part, but you have no qualms about hanging out with coworkers.
Now, people from the WWF? No way. You don't think they could replicate the charm that the others had. Sure, people like Sting would stare creepily at you as you played chess. That was neat, but you can't beat him to this day!
You learn things, too. People like Randy Savage would yell at you and tell you to raise your voice to present yourself better. Fun!
And then you had people like Mona, who was friendly and calm. She's given you advice many times. It was a change of pace from the energetic characters you surrounded yourself with. 
You think there's no competition.
You move past Torrie and open the door, peaking your head down the hallway. There is someone not too far away. It's not Kurt, Vince, or Austin. It's someone else.
He's blonde, and he's holding something almost obnoxiously large. From this distance, it's safe to assume it's a trophy.
You retreat into the room. "And just like that, I already see my first target. How about I meet you back here when the show's over?"
"Fine with me." She agreed. "You know, I saw a Friday's on Time Square. Do you want to go after the show? Oh, oh, and who was it at the door?"
"I don't see why not." You don't mind hanging out. Not one bit. "And I think you're asking the wrong person. I can tell he's not a part of our team. He was blonde, and I think he was holding a trophy. No clue who that is. I need Shane to run me down on these people. I only know Trish, Lita, Matt, and the Big Show from him. I think I know the commentators, too?"
Shane was only telling you important information, so you figured these other randoms were less important to be known by you.
"Oooh, he's blonde?" Torrie's got that knowing sound in her voice, and you groan. "That's totally your type, [Name]. Everyone backstage used to say that you loved the blondes."
You look at her incredulously. "You're joking." Because she had to be. Who would even say that? It's not your fault that 80% of your friends had that hair color.
"Hehe. Yeah, I am. Wait, come here! If you want his attention, you've gotta oil up the good bits! Also, I think you need to wear something else!" Torrie exclaimed, dashing over to her bag.
Nuh-uh. No way. Not this time. She will NOT make you her Barbie doll again. You let the woman recommend clothes to you once and now she thinks she's your stylist!
"Torrie, what the hell do you mean oil up?! Leave me alone!" You exclaim. "I've gotta get this guy before he leaves!"
She's got the bottle in her hands, shooting you a pout. "Fine. But can't you lift your shirt just a little so that—"
"If you say anything else, I swear to god I will get you." You threaten, pointing a finger at her.
She backs off, holding her hands up to you. "Touchy!"
Saying nothing else to her, you open the door and walk down the hallway to approach this stranger.
You remember to keep a puzzled look on your face, then look around the room, all confused. The more ditzy you act, the more men will feel inclined to help you.
You let out an aggravated sigh, which is the one thing that caught his attention. He shifts the trophy in his hand to take a better look at you and then takes a few steps back in alarm.
"Woah, rogue WCW woman spotted. Don't attack me." He says. "I'm armed." He holds out the trophy to you warily, then pokes your stomach with one of the tiny metal prongs of the trophy.
"Ow—not a threat!" As plastic as those prongs were, they hurt like hell.  You feign panic, throwing your hands up. "I'm not a threat. I was just looking for someone! I want to tell Lita I'm sorry. Have you seen her?"
He's not sold at all, considering you cracked her head open the other day. "You want to say you're sorry? Listen, I don't care how tempting you are, I won't fall for whatever you've got going on. You're gonna try and take her out!"
This guy may have got the wrong idea. You're not into seducing him. Not yet, anyway.
"Thank you," You accept the compliment. "I, and probably you, have no idea what you're going on about." He may be in his head about you. "I'm only here to make amends because my contract may expire. I'll be out of work and out of a leader spot in no time."
They'd have to pry you from Shane's cold, dead hands. You don't have a choice but to hold onto the lie that your contract is ending soon.
"That sucks." He outright says, using a hand to comb through the top of his hair. "Uh, I mean, I'm sorry to hear that." He genuinely did seem apologetic, so he may be falling for it.
You’re still trying to be nice. "I'm [Name], but with you knowing what I did to Lita, you might already know."
"Yeah," He nods. "People've been talking about you beating up Lita. They're wondering what they're gonna do now. You're kinda gutsy for even showing up tonight. I'm Edge." He feels it's only fitting for him to introduce himself back, but it's easy to see that he's hesitant.
You smile anyway. Your following words are honeyed when you speak them. "Hi, Edge. Good to meet you. I'm gonna remind you that I mean no harm, seriously. After I talk to Lita, I'll even leave the arena. Are you sure you don't know where she is?"
"Lita.." Edge repeats, looking away from you for a second. "She might be with the Hardy Boys. I'm pretty sure."
It's part of a confession, making you think he had been holding back due to his suspicion.
"Hardy Boys, huh? Ah, do you know where catering is?" You ask. "I got so lost, completely forgot how big the Garden is." It's an exaggeration, but you should get some directions while you're at it.
…This is partly because you're hungry too.
Will the WWF's food hold its own against WCW catering? You need to put it to the test. You won't lie; your company had some of the best food by far.
It's not like you could put anything else to the test anyway. You hadn't even gotten a chance to get started on those local circuits because you took the chance and signed up for the Powerplant instead. It may have been too early, but it's gotten you far enough to be handed that beautiful contract.
It's not like you minded, you practically grew up watching it with relatives. Calling home with the exciting news was returned with happiness and playful jealousy.
Edge turns and points down the hallway. "Should it be that way to your left? Could be wrong, so don't come back trying to attack me."
You wave him off. "I won't. I think I'll give you a suplex. How does that sound to you?"
"I think I'd be the one doing that to you, [Name]." He countered. "You look pretty easy to carry."
"Edge! Been lookin' for you, man. Where'd you go?" Another voice makes you turn around to see yet another blonde man with goggles approaching you, and you fight the urge to throw your arms up in exasperation.
Maybe Torrie was right. You're not beating the blonde-lover allegations. You're losing… she's winning!! You hate it!
He looks over toward you, eyeing you up and down. Then he comes closer to Edge, muttering something else. "Who's that?"
"[Name], this is Christian, my brother." Edge introduces. "Christian, this is [Name]."
Brother, huh?
Christian looks between the two of you incredulously, then settles his eyes on Edge. "Wait, this is the chick that—"
The both of you say the end at the very same time. "…smashed Lita's head into the ground." You already knew it was coming. "Yes. That's me."
"Guess it's obvious then." He snickered.
"I may have done it, but it wasn't my intention." For a second, you pause because it was. There's no way it was just a freak accident. "It wasn't my intention to make her my enemy." You correct. "All I wanted to do was say sorry about it. It was all a misunderstanding on my end. Maybe we can work together against WCW."
You're trying your best to present yourself as a charity case towards them, and they, along with the others, are taking the easy bait.
He's not as apologetic as Edge was, but Christian still shakes his finger at you. "Work together, eh? You know what? She could help us, Edge. Those Hardy's, you know we've been feuding since 1999."
He then turns to you. "[Name], it's a big thing."
"What was the last time we won, last month?" Edge asks.
Christian takes a second to think about it and then replies. "Yeah, man. It was us and Rhyno. Eddie tagged along with them. Then we lost to him and Jeff. Remember?"
"Yep. Something happened every time." Edge reminisces about those matches. "We won that first one, sure, but Lita kept getting in the way."
"Exactly." Christian's leading up to something with this. "I hate to say it, but they've got us beat, man. We never got someone to deal with Lita, and she's done that hurricanrana crap to both of us! That's what usually messes us up." Christian continued to explain.
"If we have her…" Edge vigorously nods his head, waving his finger back at him. "I see where you're going with this man."
This was perfect! You swear you'd kiss Christian if you could. He's got you right where you need to be for the most part. A smile grows on Edge's face. "She can get rid of Lita! Dude, you're like, genius level of genius."
Genius level of genius? That’s original.
Christian takes that trophy out of Edge's hands for some reason. He snugly adjusts it in his arms, holding it as if he wouldn't let go.
Neither you nor Edge question it; they are more interested in getting rid of those Hardy Boys once and for all.
Well, you're only partly in on their fantasy. You had no idea how their feud went! The only question you have to ask is, "Are you guys going to be able to get us on the card for that?"
"You don't have to worry about that, [Name]. As the King of the Ring winner, I'll make sure it gets done!" Edge exclaims.
Aha! No wonder he had that trophy. It makes sense, but you're not sure how big of an achievement it was. As long as it got you on the card, you're good.
"Commissioner Regal is a real pain. Are you sure you're gonna be able to do it, dude?" Christian asks. "You know, it's always the Brits. He acts like he's got a stick up his ass."
"Don't worry about it. Me and you will go into his office." Edge pats his shoulder. "We'll get that match in no time."
You're down. "Okay then. You guys tell me when we go. I'll be ready. Edge, you said catering was down that way, right?"
He gives you a thumbs up, and you say goodbye. Maybe you'll see them more in the future, especially since you're teaming up now.
You turn your head behind you and see they're still watching you go. You decide to give them one final wave for real. Before you get to catering, you wait until you're a reasonable distance to pull out your phone and dial Shane up.
It's a quick detour, hitting a sharp left in the hallway. You're met with another room nearby, a gift from whatever god was out there, the janitor's closet.
It would be better to finish the call there, wouldn't it? No curious eyes, no listeners. It'll just be you. 
Your paranoia starts to spike because you're already peeking around the corner to see if anyone's there. The coast may be clear, but you won't take your chances. Closet it is.
You've already got your phone in your hand as you open the door. The only thing that would keep you company now were the cleaning supplies lined up on the shelves. 
You're already dialing Shane up once you close the door behind you. Most of your paranoia has subsided after closing it, and you keep your hand on the doorknob to ensure that no one else opens it to interrupt you.
Your back is turned, but what more should you be afraid of? Those mops and brooms? If anyone saw you going in, you'd say you needed some fresh air alone. Something like that.
"I wasn't expecting any company."
"My god!" You instinctively yell, jumping out of your skin. Goddamn it! Why would anyone be in the dark, in the janitor's closet of all places?! Your hand reaches for the light switch, flipping it on as soon as your fingers land on it. 
Just your luck. You walk into a squatter's home. You turn behind you to see a man sitting before you, slumped over with his curly hair falling in front of his eyes. "[Name], isn't it?"
Your hand is still on the doorknob. Would it be wrong to say you don't think you can leave yet? He knows your name. You're still alert. "Um, maybe. Why in the hell are you in here alone?" Other than being a total creep.
"Doing drugs. You want?"
He offers it to you so casually! You're taken aback, and it takes you a minute to reply. "No!"
"Relax, I'm joking. You're not a cop, are you? All I am here for is the silence. It's the only thing I can ever find peace of mind in." He says. 
You look at him and nod. "Right. Yeah. Okay. Well, this was all an accident. I have a really important call, so I'm gonna have to leave. Although a word of advice, maybe some pink would be good for your decor."
You're turning away from him, but he's saying something else the next thing you know.
"WCW shouldn't be alone in this fight. We need to take this company down. The WWF is fated to fall."
He makes you turn back around curiously. This may not be a squatter after all; he knows about WCW.
"Who exactly are you?"
As soon as you ask that question, the phone picks up. Shane's voice is loudly on the speaker, "Hello, [Name]? Are you alright?"
You immediately hold the phone to your ear. "What? Yeah. I'm fine. Can I call you back?"
"It's good to know it’s actually your name," the man says, setting his hands on his ankles to stand up from his spot. "Don't hang up now. The show's just starting." He comes closer to you, and you're already trying to hit buttons on your phone for some privacy.
"Don't suppose that's Shane McMahon on the phone? Let me talk to him. We're close. Real close." There's supposed to be excitement in his voice, yet it's delivered to you in the most monotone way possible.
"No, you can't talk to him! I mean, it's not Shane!" You try to cover your tracks, holding out your hand to him. "I have to go, so go do your drugs or whatever you were up to."
He doesn't leave you alone, instead reaching over and snatching the phone out of your hands. He lifts the phone in the air so you can't reach it, then turns away.
"Shane, can you hear me?" He asks, pulling the phone closer to his mouth. "Remember me?"
There's silence at first, and then Shane's voice comes from the phone. "Oh! Hey, Scotty! How're you doing?" You're in complete disbelief.
"You know this guy?!" You exclaim. "Shane, are you pranking me right now?!"
"I don't go by that anymore. It's Raven now. I'll be the first to tell you that ECW wants in. We've seen what's been going on."
"ECW as in Extreme Championship Wrestling?" Do they really want in? Any help is good, and it'd be two against one. You're not entirely against the idea. "Wait, give me my phone back! This isn't for you!"
"You're with [Name] right now?"
"Yeah. She's pretty aggressive. It goes to show what kind of women you surround yourself with, Shane." He comments.
"Who in the world told you that?" You ask, ignoring his snide remark. "Are you ECW's leader or something? I bet you don't have as much authority as I do."
"Okay, okay. There's no need to fight, guys." Shane is trying to be a peacemaker, doing his best to ease any tension. "Raven, if you can clue Paul Heyman in, we can discuss this in more detail in person. My invitation is extended to you, but I need to speak with [Name] for now. We can't proceed unless I talk with her first."
Thank god Shane was on your side. You can't fight the cheeky smile as you expectantly hold your hand out.
"Fine. I'll be the person to spread the message to him. The sooner, the better. Besides, no one wants to keep this outdated Nokia anyway." The sarcasm in his voice is the first emotion you've heard from him.
And you groan in response. For the love of god! Everyone needs to leave the Nokia alone! Raven begrudgingly hands it over and turns over to the door.
You'd think he'd say something else to you, but he only gives you one last glance before leaving.
"And stay out!" You yell behind him, slamming your palm onto the door.
"It's a pleasure to hear your voice, [Name]," Shane says. "I'm assuming you didn't just call me for some casual conversation before you were interrupted. What's going on?"
"Right, right. Before, I was so rudely interrupted." You say. "I ran into this guy Edge and his brother, Christian. They wanted me to team up with them to get rid of Lita. I figured it was a good opportunity to get myself out there. I'm also on my way to apologize to her after I finish talking to you. Is that alright?"
"Is what alright? You apologizing? I was the one that recommended you should—"
"No, no, that I'm even here. You called me a part of your dream team. Torrie told them our contracts were expiring soon. I played off that, but any smart person wouldn't get rid of their leader that fast. I don't want them to doubt me." At the end, you let out a sharp sigh.
Thanks to your explanations, no one's questioning you, but it's pretty easy to get caught up in a lie you tell.
"You worry a lot!" He laughs again, and you furrow your brows. "It'll be fine. A lot of those wrestlers aren't smarter than a bag of rocks. Trust me, I know this for a fact. My father's not any smarter. He has no idea what's coming to him, especially with ECW possibly helping us."
Talk about throwing people under the bus. It seems Shane's pretty relentless when it comes to his old employees. You're just glad you're not on the receiving end. Shane's been here longer than you, so you have no choice but to believe him.
However, you still feel hesitant. "Are you really sure?"
"How about this, then. I keep Torrie so she and Stacy can feud with Trish and Lita; you continue to play nice with the WWF since you're already there. You let them think that you're working your way to betray us when, in actuality, you're going to betray them."
Keeping Torrie after she told them that your contracts were expiring? That would be risky, along with you slotting into the roster. But you'll try and conform to it. "Okay, okay." You agree. "I think I can do that."
"Have some faith in me." It's like he can sense your hesitation. "More importantly, have some faith in yourself, [Name]. Was that all?"
The only thing you can do is try. "Yeah, I'll talk to you when I hear anything new."
"Alright then, you take care, [Name]."
Ending the call with those final words, you shove your phone back into your pocket. As much as you want to take a second to breathe, Lita's the next person on your list.
Opening the closet door, you head straight towards the double doors of catering. Oh boy, you hope Lita's in here. If not, you'll have to continue your journey elsewhere. You don't have all night, though.
You're met with a few unfamiliar faces when you open the door. They stare at you in confusion, which quickly turns into alarm. Some people even stand up from their seats.
You come in peace, for now! "Everyone can relax. I want to be on your side now. I came to apologize." You don't even beat around the bush.
Most are suspicious but still get back into their seats. What were they going to do anyway? You could defend yourself with one of these chairs if you needed to.
Scanning the room, you find the woman of the hour looking at you with wide eyes. You immediately approach her. A relieved smile appears on your face as your searching is no longer needed, tossing out your arms. "Lita!"
Just as you call her name, two men protectively stand before her. The only one you knew was Matt, although the other guy had a striking resemblance to him. Siblings, perhaps?
Matt was the one that had enough gall to get in your face. "You've got a lot of nerve showin' up here," Matt started, waving his finger at you. The southern twang in his voice almost makes you giggle. It's so out there.
You do your best to cover it by looking sad instead. "Tell me something I don't know. Sorry, but losing was your fault, though." That's one thing you had to make clear. "Tell me, was it nice when Trish kissed you? Did you even try to push her away?"
You pucker your lips toward him and kiss the air as he huffs at you. Matt is frustrated at your taunt and clenches his fist. What you say is true; you and Lita had your own business. Whatever he did in the ring was his responsibility.
Didn't mean you could tease him so freely about it, though.
He's going to say something else to you, but Lita shakes her head, getting up from her seat and stepping in front of him instead. "No, Matt. Just leave it. It's okay." And then she looks at you directly. "You must be really brave to show up here after what you did, or maybe you're just stupid."
It's the second time you've heard that tonight..
"Never stupid." You'd like to get that straight now. "Only apologetic." And for her to even say that makes you sure about your decision. You're glad you beat her up on Raw.
"I thought attacking you would prove my allegiance to Shane. He ordered it. I did it, but I see how wrong it is and how fucked up WCW is. After thinking about what I did to you, I wanted to come to this show and make things right."
It seems like you're taking a breath when, in actuality, you're trying to get your lies together. "I was sad and idling the halls. I want WCW to crash and burn. I have my allegiance and want it to be with all of you." You make sure to say it loudly enough so others can hear you.
"Well, I don't think any of us trust you." Matt cut in. "Something's not right about you."
"Matt, give the woman a break." The other guy says. "She's tryin' to help us. She apologized for what she did. I'm sure we've made some mistakes, so we could try and give her some credit."
Whoever this guy was with brightly dyed purple hair, you're glad he stepped in. You make a mental note to remember his face if he never introduced himself to you.
No, you won't let that happen. The only person you extend your hand to is him, although your proper introduction is meant for all of them. "I think we should get off on the right foot now. I'm [Name]. I want to be on your side now."
Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Lita and Matt share some telepathic looks. All you did was introduce yourself to him!
He reaches out his hand. "Jeff."
Matt's the one who brings Jeff back to Earth, smacking his shoulder. It makes Jeff retract his hand before you can even take it. "The hell are you doin'?! We can't trust her!" It's a whispered shout that you're in clear range of hearing, not that Matt cared.
Jeff shrugs at him, then holds his hands up. "I thought…”
"Hardy meeting," He points toward the door, sounding as stern as they come. "Right now. Lita, you do what you need to do with her."
Jeff slunks over to the door, and Matt is just about to follow, but Lita gives him a parting kiss before he goes. She mutters, "I love you," but Matt's already storming off to deal with Jeff to even reply.
"So, you two are an item after all. It wasn't just jealousy." You comment. The urge to make another Trish jab was strong, but by divine intervention, you didn't say it.
"Yeah. A year, now." She confirms.
That information goes right into the filing cabinet. You give a half-smile to her. "All of you are friends then?"
It's a bit tense between you two, but Lita replies anyway, albeit strained. "Yeah, uh, we're a team. They're brothers. Matt's the oldest."
It makes sense. They looked similar, and Matt used that authoritative tone when telling Jeff to go outside.
Either way, you decide to jump straight to the chase. "I'm gonna take this chance to clear the air while it's just me and you. Lita, I was being honest when I said I wanted to take WCW out. I've gotten so close to Shane McMahon that it would be a shame for all of us to waste this opportunity. Even out of all this, I want a friendly rivalry from you at most."
Friendly, yes, that's what you wanted. It's not like you'll stiff her in the ring or anything.
"Like they always say, it's just business, you know? No hard feelings."
Lita takes a minute to think about it, turning her head away from you and then turning back. "You know what? Fine. No hard feelings. I'll give you another chance, [Name]. But if you screw up again, I can't guarantee that I won't fight you about it."
"That is totally fine. Trust me, I won't mess up again. I'll be there to help you when our goals align." Your professional tone was leaking out...
This is partly thanks to the many creative meetings and other ventures you've had at WCW. Reassurance and composure are two ways to worm your way inside a company. "Is the food any good here, by the way?"
And you can understand if Lita doesn't fully trust you. If you were in her position, you wouldn't trust yourself either.
Lita shrugs. "I mean, yeah. It's alright, I guess. You'd have to try it yourself." You still do think she believes you, despite her dry responses. It's just more progess you need to make.
"Oh my gosh, [Name], right?"
Lita groans and tosses her head up toward the ceiling. Whoever said your name, Lita wasn't happy to see them.
You turn your head over to see Trish. "Could I have a moment?" She clasps her hands together.
It's like Lita gives you the same look she gave Matt, trying to tell you something without using her words. It's difficult for you to understand, so she instead decides to leave you two be.
"Do whatever the hell you want. She's all yours." She'll probably join that Hardy meeting if they're still out there.
The both of you watch her go, and once she's out, Trish gives you her undivided attention. "Lita's always been...catty. I mean, she's been bullying me since my debut! How crueler can you get? I don't understand why she doesn't like me. And here I am, trying to let creative put us together in case we have to go against WCW. Not you now, of course."
"Stacy Keibler. Torrie Wilson." You offer up their names. "Only two they'll probably pit you against. They're all they have now."
On another note, you're trying to understand why Lita disliked Trish that much. Well, it's obvious why she didn't like you, but that's only because you did something to provoke her into it.
As you recall, Trish did end up kissing Matt. It all makes sense now, Lita looking pissed about it as she retaliated. They're an item! It's no wonder Lita wants her out.
You'll let Trish figure out that part by herself some time. "Guess you've gotta get to know her a little better. You're Trish, right?"
"That's me. I'm glad I caught you. I wanted to say thank you. Lita was gonna rough me up some more if you didn't step in when you did." Her fingers move a few strands of hair out of her face. "I feel like I owe you. What do you say to lunch next Wednesday?"
Lunch with Trish? Looks like you're already getting in good with these superstars! "Fine with me."
"I'm sorry about Shane McMahon, by the way." She adds. "We need all the help we can get, and you deserve this spot. Guess all McMahon's are pigs."
All? Like, all of them? Not Shane, at least. Shane's been nothing but pleasant and respectful to you. Unlike your previous boss, Eric Bischoff, who you were sure hated your guts with the way he treated you.
"Oh yeah, probably. I wouldn't be surprised. Even my old boss was a sleazeball." You mention.
You always thought he preferred Stacy to you when booked in certain segments. You and "Miss Hancock" were always set together when possible, but she was always going over most of the time.
At first, you had a time when you resented Stacy, putting a strain on your relationship for months. But you slowly came to terms with the fact that it was never her fault. It was management. You'd bring up your problems to Eric, and he'd dangle your contract over your head. He was quick to tell you that you didn't have to stay. Could head back right to your hotel.
That's something you don't miss.
"Then I guess we've both had some problems with our bosses, huh?" Trish mused. "It's not a very good thing, but it makes me feel better to know I'm not alone."
You're not sure what history she's had with Vince McMahon, but if she was comparing her situation to your own, then she's definitely seen some shit. You'll have to ask her about it over lunch.
Honestly, you're happy she was so sweet. Considering you saved her skin, it was fair, but hospitality goes a long way for you right now.
"Did you want to sit with me? I've got an extra seat right next to me." She uses both of her thumbs to point to her left.
"I don't see why not," You smile. Let me get something to eat first." You're already sauntering off towards the table of different foods as you hear her say, "I'll just be over here then."
You have no idea where to start. To distract yourself for only five seconds, you grab a plate. Then you're already back to square one. What do you want to eat?!
Fruit, muffins, salad, you name it, they've got it. Everything looks appealing, and it's damn near stressing you out.
You make a mental apology to Trish because you're definitely going to be here for quite a while.
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as i said on the ao3 ver, i envisioned 90s look raven because that’s probably my favorite iteration of that asshole. and this is actually really fun to write since I can build up relationships 😭 i kinda cringe seeing my old writing but im happy u guys really liked it!! Thanks for reading :D
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bookshelf-dust · 2 years ago
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body and soul
sirius black x gn!reader
word count: 1,418
warnings: swearing, sexual innuendos?, flirting, fluff
a/n: hi! i wanted to write more sirius, and here we are. i think this is really sweet. i hope that you enjoy it! also, the title is a mr. darcy line from pride and prejudice (2005). i couldn’t resist, okay? sue me. anyways, let me know what you think and i love you!! <33
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“I thought you said I could braid your hair, you little shit.” You remove your fingers from his curls. 
Sirius scoffs, leaning his head back to try and chase your hand. “Quite a mouth you’ve got on you.” 
You let up, continuing to scratch your nails over his scalp. You’d say he’s almost purring, but that’d be the wrong animal, you’re afraid. 
Sirius is sat on the floor between your legs. When you’d asked to play with his hair, he’d agreed, though this isn’t what you’d meant. He doesn’t seem to care. If you hear one more “five more minutes,” you might just kill him. 
“Regulus?”
“Hm?” The boy is sprawled out on the bed behind where you sit, flipping through something of Sirius’ he’d picked up upon entering the room.
“Who should we invite to your brother’s funeral?”
He snorts, and you can feel his shoulders shaking against the mattress. Sirius’ eyes snap open. “My what? What crime have I committed that is so heinous for you to now discuss my death?” 
He leans his head back, stormy eyes blinking up at you. 
“You haven’t let me braid your hair when that’s exactly what I asked of you.”
Sirius lets out a whine. “But I like the scratches.” 
“I know you do. But, frankly my love, you’re being a pain in my ass.”
He turns around to face you, sitting up on his knees, hands grabbing at your ankles. “Oh but I like your ass, wouldn’t want to hurt it now, would we?”
“Okay, gross. I’m going,” Regulus proclaims, but he doesn’t move an inch. He flips over onto his back, shielding his eyes with his forearm.
“Can I braid yours, Reg?” 
He peeks at you from underneath his arm. “Sure.”
You push further back on Sirius’ bed, trying to escape his grasp. He’s quick to stand, towering over you, hands creeping up your legs. There’s a look of faux betrayal on his face; you know better than to think he’d actually be upset about you choosing his brother’s hair to braid first. 
“Get back, you dog.”
Sirius gasps, and with one scandalized hand pressed to his chest—the other slapping at his sibling for laughing—you dart out of his range. 
You make it to the other side of the bed, Regulus now in between the both of you. The boy settles, cross legged in the space, and you sit up on your knees to rake through his waves. His hair is a little less wild than his brothers, but just as thick and smooth. 
“Sirius, my love, would you get me the ties and a brush, please?”
The look he receives from you tells him that he has no other choice. He retrieves them for you, though he gives you his best puppy dog eyes before handing them over. “Kiss.”
You smack one on his cheek, and steal the items from his hands. He looks appalled, and sits himself against the headboard, grumpy and brooding. 
Regulus’s hair isn’t nearly as long as Sirius’s, but there’s enough that you make two small french braids with the front section of his hair, tying them together at the crown of his head. You think he looks fantastic, and he’d be lying to himself if he said otherwise. 
He wanders off after his hair is done with, clearly finished with the both of your antics. 
Sirius crosses his arms, giving you a haughty look, as if he doesn’t need attention from you. Really he’s dying for a kiss, for you to play with his hair some more. 
“Oh, don’t be so grumpy, sweetheart,” you coo. He lets his arms drop, mouth ticking up at the corners. He loves it when you call him that. 
“Gimme a kiss, and a good one,” he warns, holding his finger up, “and you may have your way with me.”
“Oh, I may?” You scoot up towards him, hands planting firmly against the mattress on either side of his thighs. 
“Damn right, you may,” he laughs, completely enthralled with you.
You lean in, keeping your eyes on his—something else he’s fond of. You slot your mouth against his, finding the press of his lips to be warm and all-encompassing. Sirius has this way of kissing you, pushing his feelings outward and into you, letting you know how utterly taken he is. How much love he has for you. He makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world, like he will protect you from anything and everything. Nothing touches his baby. 
You try to pull away, but should know better. Sirius is greedy, always wanting seconds and thirds. And he gets them. Every. Fucking. Time. 
When he does let you go, it’s only to scoot further down the bed so that you can rise up onto your knees behind him. He likes it better this way because he can feel the heat of your body much more than if he were to sit on the floor. Being close to you makes him feel safe. Especially in a bedroom that has been a sanctuary from the rest of his home for so long. It’s better still with you in it. 
You comb through his mess of curls, and he tries his best not to groan each time you yank a little too hard. Once the knots are gone, you part his hair down the middle and separate it so you can braid each side. 
Sirius closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your hands in his hair, the way your fingers send a chill down his spine each time they graze his neck. 
He’ll never understand how good you are at this, how you could do it with your eyes closed if you had to. He’s watched you do it numerous times, weaving each strand underneath the other, and you’ve even offered to teach him how someday so he can put it up when you’re not around. 
He’s gotten the hang of a regular braid; he just likes it better when you do it. Sirius also thinks he has to keep his hair long forever, because he couldn’t stand to deprive you of this. 
He feels when you finish one braid, the weight of it resting on one shoulder as you begin work on the other. 
“Going to sleep on me, baby?” you question, noticing how quiet he is. 
“Of course not,” he quips, reaching around to squeeze your waist.
You hold the braid firm in one hand, using the other the gently grab his jaw and turn him to face you. You kiss him once, short and sweet, and Sirius doesn’t think he could be more content. More cared for.
“Enjoying this, Black?” You’re beaming at him, eyes alight. This close you can see the freckles on the apples of his cheeks, across his nose. They’re light, but they’re most definitely there. And they’re gorgeous. 
“You know I am. You know, I really think you do it because it shuts me up.” 
You return to braiding, weaving the strands behind his ear together as securely as you can get them. “You got me.”
Sirius chuckles, a warm and honey-like sound. It fills your every nerve with glee.
“I’m all done,” you tell him, sinking back down into the mattress and stretching out your legs, knees having started to ache from being in that position for too long. 
Sirius spins around, grabbing hold of your ankles and tugging so that you fall back onto the bed. He pulls until you’re where he wants you, his body between your legs. He braces his arms on either side of your head, looking down at you, nothing but pure adoration in his eyes. 
“How do I look?”
You yank gently on the ends of his pigtails. “Gorgeous, as always.”
He chuckles. “Oh, how you flatter me, my love.”
You snort, and he enjoys the sound tremendously. Sirius presses his cheek to yours, nuzzling into your hair.
“I love you.” He whispers it into your ear, and the rasp in his voice gives you goosebumps.
“I love you too, baby.” You whisper the response into his ear as he’d done to yours, and the action makes him so happy that he pulls away just so he can kiss you. So that he can kiss every square inch of your face. 
“Thank you for letting me play with your hair,” you say. 
He winks at you, smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to the center of your throat. “Anytime, my sweet.”
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please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33
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technically-a-kiwi · 3 months ago
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Lol, imagine this : cosmic horror AU
The Noise would be the charismatic TV host of chaos, hosting his mysterious show, his public would be the souls of the damned, and his audience would be random people who watched TV at the wrong time and at the wrong place, they are the unsuspected victimes of The Noise's game, a game starting as simple challenges and slowly turning into psychological torture, he'd be narrating your moves like a sports narrator you hear on TV, if you survive those challenges, you'll go back to your life... But you'll never be the same... If you fail, you'll be part of The Noise's audience... forever. Ooooh this is so edgy I love it >:)
Appearance wise it'd just be Cosmic Noise in a less cartoony style with half of his face skin missing revealing a second row of teeth on top of his current teeth (you know like you see in children skull X rays) it's gross, it's creepy, I love it
As for Peppino he'd be the Great Primal Cosmic chef, creating every level of existence from his mighty pizza oven, and blessing humanity with the art of cooking and the Holy Book of Recipe. His words are of unmatched wisdom (and loudness) but are somehow of common comprehension, his presence is overwhelming and yet somehow comforting, he's so calm and so unstable at the same time, he creates in love and in wrath. Peppino is a contradicting deity and his authority is often challenged, his existence only been reduced to fairytales (so yeah basically Italian Arceus). Despite having an age beyond compression, his omnipotence and omniscience and his status as the Cosmic chef, he's one of the most human cosmic entity of them all, experiencing feelings like loneliness, stress and fear. He combats those feelings by cooking, pretty much being a workaholic, it kinda works but he's still pretty lonely.
Appearance wise he'd be cosmic pep in less cartoony style but absurdly huge, like no matter how you tilte your head up you'd only see the beginning of his collar at best, basically being like miss Bellum. And if somehow you manage to get around head level he'd cover his face with a pan, if you're mortal it's because you'd burn if you see his face and if not it's because he doesn't want you to see his disfigured face he got after a cosmic battle with The Noise. He'd be translucent, his body is marbled with scars of past fights, and his overall color palette would be a lot more cooler and darker with his apron and chef hat being the only bright thing on his body.
Yes it's absurd, yes Peppino is God in this AU, yes I made my favorite character into an OP being, yes I'm being a kid. It's meant to be edgy and it will.
Ohhhh but I see you from miles away "BuT wHaT aBoUt CoSmIc FaKe ???!?!!??!" I KNOW YOU WERE ABOUT TO SAY IT, KIWI SEES ALL 👁️👁️, well lucky for you, I may have an idea for our fav ticket stand
THE FAKER is a shapeless dark entity, with infinite amount of faker faces on its body, it hides itself inside a ticket stand where it waits for unsuspected victimes, if you go to the ticket stand and ask for a ticket, a voice will invite you inside, wether or not you accept the invitation, a hand will drag you inside, your body will slowly be assimilated, your mind shifts into one that isn't your own, you feel like you don't know who you are, you feel cold, but one thing is for sure, you have to be so big, strong and mighty to the point you'll rival the might of the Cosmic chef. So yeah basically here it's the thing who wants to be a god.
Okay I'm done with my trip, obviously it's not canon in anyway and it's just my inner kid (and idiot) expressing itself. It doesn't have much of any link with True cosmic, only vaguely taking some of its ideas and exaggerating them to make them sound creepy. I really love horror in general and since Cosmic Au is already absurd I just want to push it to the max and make it an edgy and angst mess. I'd probably design it someday but I already have so much to do ! You know what, to anyone who managed to read this far, I challenge you into drawing those characters using the description I wrote.
If this post gets some people interested maybe I'll do the rest of the cast...
Okay NOW I'm going back to work...
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guqin-and-flute · 6 months ago
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Holding Me Holding You–Ch. 7 [3zun Raise Jingyi Prequel]
[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6]
[Ao3 Link]
[Holy shit, how has it been 2 years since I last updated this fic?? ANYWAY HELLO HI I MISSED YOU. We're keeping the baby, guys. CW: Disjointed, slightly nonlinear narration; negative self talk; more talk of battle aftermath, bodies (gross but no more graphic than prev chapters), and death; focus on lots of trauma to do with death and grief; general Twin Jade parental trauma; vaguest mention of child death, in that he repeatedly tells himself there isn't one and remembers part of his nightmare about Wangji/A-Fu dying]
Who are you?
‘Wen Baiqi.’
What must be done for you to rest?
‘Say goodbye. Tell her goodbye.’
It’s raining in Qishan. It’s nothing like the rain in Gusu.
Who are you?
‘Hei Xuecen.’
What must be done for you to rest?
‘All my fault all my fault ALL MY FAULT--’
This rain isn’t crisp, but disconcertingly warm. It doesn't bring life. It soaks into the ground, milling the dirt back into the blood and gore bloated mud of that night, sucking at their feet. Reeking of putrefaction. It coats Xichen’s tongue and throat.
Who are you?
Each time, there is a chance he will receive a reply from the Yiling Patriarch himself. 
‘Ye Qian.’
He never does.
What must be done for you to rest?
‘Never apologized--’
What would he do if he did?
Who are you?
What would Zewu-jun do? Clan Leader Lan?
What must be done?
Would he soothe his spirit?
Who are you?
Ghostly fingers pluck at his sleeves constantly. 
Who are you?
‘Nie Zixing. Never knew him, tell them--’
When he had first arrived, the bodies of Wei Wuxian’s Wen contingent still hung from the gate to the battleground. Or what remained of them. After scavengers, time, and the elements had had their turn. Swaying in the warm, wet breeze along with carrion birds’ cries and the distant tunes of the guqin language. Grisly pendulums. Dripping.
There is no small boy among them. He had hoped against hope, but now he knew for sure. This secret is tucked deep, deep down beneath his heart.
Who are you?
The corpses on the ground are Wen. They are Lan. They are strangers. They are Da-ge, lying bloody on the floor of the Scorching Sun Palace. They are A-Zhan.
"We should burn them like they did to our people. Scatter their ashes, so they will never rest." A venomous whisper from his own disciples, a young man, face twisted in rage.
(“They’re killing everyone,” he had choked his sobs into A-Yao’s arms. “My people--my family are all dead and I did nothing.”)
A-Yuan had been so, so pale against the sheets. So tiny compared to the infirmary bed.
“These people?" Xichen’s voice is quiet. "These cultivators that studied healing? Miles and miles from Qishan?”
Silence.
“Did they destroy our home? Did we fight them in Sunshot?”
Too little, far too late.
There is no small boy among them. There isn’t.
A-Zhan, gray and slack, eyes glassy, head lolling--
He pushes the dream-memory away.
Who are you?
‘Jin Mingni. 
My father--’
"We will bury them and hold the proper rites, as we have the rest of the fallen. And I will ask you to swear yourselves to secrecy regarding their exact resting place. In case anyone later shares your thinking.”
‘Zhou Sanniang. Never wanted to come. Save me.’
“Help me bring them down.”
There may be no small boy among the Wen, but he sees corpses all day, every day. They're in his dreams. He cannot stop seeing them. And he cannot stop seeing a boy (Afuyuanzhan) among them, from the corner of his eye.
He can never quite catch the face before he realizes there is no one actually there.
A skeletal hand is unearthed when they lift a body--a remnant of the Sunshot Campaign, years before. There were plenty of partial skeletons from that time that the Yiling Patriarch had raised to fight them. It seems some didn't have the strength to fight their way out from the mud. The death here has layers. A slow growing mountain of violence and dead and blood instead of stone. The building of the Burial Mounds’ successor.
Do the Burial Mounds have as many crows? Is it a feasting ground, as this has become?
They carry the quiescent dead, cover them with cloth, lay them in rows. Those whose spirits have passed on easily. They lie with their Sect members--when they are able to discern who they are. Still, fields of undyed cloth mounds, waiting to be retrieved by their loved ones, if they still live. Somewhere out there, there must be people still alive, families whole and happy, living in the sunshine. Somewhere.
Who are you?
His fingertips bleed from days playing Linhai and Liebing.
What must be done for you to rest?
Even those here that are living shamble like the dead--the rogue cultivators, his Lan disciples, the handful cultivators from other Sects, all here for the same goal, all hollow eyed and pale. He is supposed to be here for morale. 
They work deep into the night, far from familiar, ingrained rules about schedule and tidiness, here. Adrift.
What must be done--?
The fierce corpse is not a powerful one, merely tenacious. Shuoyue snakes out. It crumples immediately with a muted splurch into the muck, halved.
‘Tell her I loved--’
The top half of the corpse writhes, still scrabbling for him. The sound it makes from its ruined face is horrid. It's a wonder it can sense his yang qi at all; no eyes, no nose. Its robes are a splotchy black and rusty brown-red, but the Lan ribbon around its forehead manages to show a ragged white through it, here and there.
The talisman sears, blinding. It is enough. The body slumps for the last time. He can settle into that mud, summon Linhai from his qiankun bag for the Songs of Rest.
Who are you?
‘Lan Ruicai.
Show them all--’
The blood of the walking dead is no longer life-hot, but the same, unnerving lukewarm as the rain. He cannot feel it. He can’t tell where it’s stained him until he reaches his tent each night. 
He is efficient. He is in control.
The rain here doesn't cleanse anything. It hasn’t stopped for days.
Everything is the same color; the sludge, the thick haze of lingering resentful energy, palms, boots, the hems and knees of robes. That old clotted wound color. Dirt repelling talismans can only do so much before they are overpowered by the sheer weight of yin energy permeating everything. Stained.
There's no use cleaning. He tries anyway.
‘I was so scared, so scared--’
Who are you?
Sometimes, the spirits do not answer. Sometimes, they speak first, before he can even start the questions, raking the strings repeatedly in their anguish. Sometimes, they try to tear the guqin from him, try to rend his clothes, squeeze his throat. Sometimes, banishment is the only way. 
The sudden shrieks and roars at night startle everyone from sleep. If Wangji was well, he would be here. He is known for going where the chaos is.
Is that what had led him to this? To Wei Wuxian? An affinity for soothing chaos? For chaos itself?
Who are you?
‘Don’t know. Want to go home--’
"I can't anymore, zongzhu, I-I--"
"It's alright. Return to the Cloud Recesses. You’ve done enough."
Sometimes, he wakes in the night to find that he is in the middle of dressing, having no memory of doing so, a clump of cleansing talismans clutched in his numb hands. He has cut down so many fierce corpses, he’s lost count.
Who are you?
Food is tasteless glue in his mouth.
Who are you?
Every night, he is sure to take the medicine that gives him no dreams.
‘Oh gods oh gods ohgodsohgods--’
Every night, he prays that he has not left Uncle overwhelmed, that his people are being cleansed and healed back home, that Wangji has stopped bleeding, that A-Yuan is healing, that A-Fu is….
Who are you?
(What right do you have?)
What must be done?
He has been here for days that run into one, long, dark, meaningless drain. 
‘Son. Baby. Where is he?'
Who are you?
‘Pan Liu.’
His raw fingers pause on Linhai’s strings, still humming. Rain patters quietly on the hat that shields his face from it.
He knows that name. How does he know that name.
There have been plenty of others he had recognized among the dead, from different Sects and his own, from childhood, from Cultivation Conferences, from class. But each time, he must pull himself back to that life to remember, away from the rain and the red and the dead.
He can’t place it.
What must be done for you to rest?
‘My baby. Safe.’
The spirit is a thin wisp of light, playing about the strings, shining on the dark wood. Focused. Waiting.  
Who is your son?
‘Lan Fu.’
His mouth is dry.
("A-niang?" A hopeful little voice. The memory of a crumpled form in the blood-churned muck, a shoe print between shoulder blades….) 
It is cruel, endlessly cruel that he is the one alive. That he is the one sitting in the mud across from this poor young mother’s spirit. That he is the one with blood enough in his hands to leave rain blotted stains on the strings as he tells A-Fu’s mother; He is safe.
(Shrieks of raw sound as they carry him away. Echoing off the trees. Reaching back for him.)
A hesitation. Then, ‘Who are you?’
Lan Xichen. Zewu-jun.
‘Zongzhu.’
He will be safe. I swear. 
‘...Safe.’
Rest, now.
‘...Rest….’ The notes are quiet, exhausted. Longing.
Then, silence. That pale light is gone. 
She is gone.
He sits, still and silent as the soft caverns in the clotted mud continue to patter around him. His face is wet--mist and rain and blood. He almost wishes it was tears. 
He aches in a new, terrible way, now.
Oh, little one. You were so loved.
He has been witness to both sides, now, of this small, destroyed family reaching for each other through the dark. And how useless he has been in the task of bringing either of them lasting peace. 
To bring anyone lasting peace. 
(Useless.)
And do you serve anything so fiercely that it would be your last thought, taken across into death? 
It is irrelevant. The soul quieting ceremony had been performed on them as children, with all the other inner disciples. He will not linger as a ghost, even if he were to be struck down by a fierce corpse this instant.
He finds himself trying to remember if his mother had ever mentioned having had such a ritual performed on her….
Selfish. You would have your own mother suffer and linger as an unquiet ghost for some sort of twisted confirmation that you were loved? 
Xichen remembers childhood before the death of his parents. The infinity of all of it. It probably never crossed A-Fu’s mind to beg her to stay with him. (“No, no go! P’ease!”) She had always returned before. 
The memory of A-Fu clinging to his hands so tightly he had drawn blood with his nails is inescapable. 
During that final farewell at the Jingshi, A-Huan too had had no idea it would be the last time he would ever see his mother’s face. He didn’t know what creeping death looked like, then. She was simply her, smiling, twinkling at them.  He had kissed her cheek and taken Wangji’s hand and waved to her through her ornately carved window screen as Uncle led them away. Wangji had always been the one to pull back, to fuss over leaving. Uncle had always made sure that Xichen set a good example for him.
The snowy day she had left this world, cold and dry, so far from the warm wet muck he was in now, something in him hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed that someone could just…no longer exist, just as suddenly as a storm might blow over the mountain summit with no warning. 
He saw her so sparingly, it seemed impossible that she wasn't just simply waiting in her front room for them to visit with a smile and open arms.
How? he had asked. When? Why?
Uncle had said that it was not for children to know. This pulled it even farther into the unreal, stretching his comprehension. It felt like a dream, a lie. A story. But if he could just see her…if he could just prove that this was some sort of…misunderstanding--
(Xichen had never asked again after that first refusal sat in his gut like a chilly stone. He suspected that Wangji had not either. Even now, decades later, he still did not know how his mother had actually died. 
He suspected enough, however. 
He knew it was sudden. He knew it was unexpected. He knew no one spoke of it. He knew it had broken his father beyond any hope of repair. Uncle had not volunteered the information, even now, when they were both grown. And Xichen will not allow useless rumination. Rule 60.)
 He remembered he hadn’t been able to stop crying. A-Huan had always hated crying--he always tried to hide away and not bother anyone with it, but this had been constant. 
Uncle had squeezed his shoulder and spoken softly, and reminded him after hours of stopping and starting that he must not grieve in excess, that he would make himself sick, that he was agitating Wangji, that he needed to calm himself, death was a natural passing, like the moon or a river, one must not let their emotions control them.
But still, that something in him that just knew it wasn't true waited until it was dark, until curfew set in and the snow lit the night full-moon-bright, reflecting the stars and lanterns. He had pulled on his boots and slipped from his window, cautiously darting across the paths of the Cloud Recesses in just his pajamas and his blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, shivering from more than the cold. 
This had to be a trick that he didn’t understand; a joke or a punishment for something he had done wrong. When he figured out what to apologize for, he would be able to see her again. 
The fear of being caught breaking the rules was washed away when he crossed beneath the familiar bower wound with skeletal winter vines. His mother’s house stood dark. All around it, snow was churned and broken, as if many people had been there. In all his memory, no one else had ever visited the Jingshi. The door was unlocked. 
It opened onto emptiness and moonlight. 
Everything was gone.  Her plants. The blue cushioned couch. Her desk and papers. Her dragon incense burner. Her tall candlesticks. Her big, thick, round rug they laid on and played games. The pictures he had painted for her.
He had drifted, stunned, through the shell of his mother’s home. The only proof that she had ever even been there were the scratches on the floor from where furniture had been dragged. That, and the scent of her that still lingered underneath the smell of whatever they had scrubbed the floor and walls with. They had erased her completely. Like she was never there in the first place.
Then it had settled on him like a cloak of lead, dropping him to his knees; the understanding, the true deepness of what this meant.
She was really gone. Forever. 
The ‘always’ was gone. The ‘next time’ and promises. That warm, constant presence on the rim of the Cloud Recesses, the visit that marked his days as cyclically and surely as the sun had simply...vanished. In just one moment, the world was made completely lightless. Incomprehensible. It had a hole ripped in its center, cold and inescapable.
She would never brush back his hair and kiss his forehead. She would never pout when she lost a game. She would never squinch up her nose and do an accidental snort-laugh.
If he had only known that it could happen so fast…if he had only known that people could leave so quickly and completely, he would have taken something. A set of her dark, weighty chopsticks, one of her bracelets, a letter; anything. But there was nothing.
Somehow, he had found himself in front of the Hanshi, his feet numb, his face and hands frozen. Thinking back on it, he couldn’t remember what his 6 year old self had planned. He wasn’t sure that there had been a plan. Maybe he had just wanted a parent. Maybe he had been seeking out the one adult that might have cared as much as he did that his mother was gone. Uncle didn’t understand--A-Huan and A-Zhan had always known that he didn’t like her. He was always polite, because that was important, it was in the rules--but he was always stiff and short. He frowned the whole time--every time--picking them up. He hated talking about her.
But the father he had hardly met, that distant, hidden figure--he had married her. He had loved her.
He would care.
The Hanshi, too, had been dark--and he panicked. Had his father left--or died like his mother and no one had told him? He had yanked the door handle--and to his shock, it slid open. He had been expecting a lock like the one that he saw being done up behind them when he and A-Zhan left the Jingshi. (A choice, not a prison, he had realized as he got older. Not in the same way, at least. Other things kept Qingheng-jun bound.) 
It was dark inside, curtains drawn, vague shapes of things illuminated by the light creeping in behind him. He stood in that doorway, frozen in body and mind, unable to trespass that much farther. It smelled unfamiliar and sharp. He had never been in his father’s home before. 
It was so dark.
He had called into that darkness, choked and quiet; “Fuqin?“ 
Silence. 
“...Diedie?”
(“They made choices. These are consequences,” is all Uncle had told him when, younger, he had asked why both of his parents were locked away from him and refused to say more.
Afterward, A-Huan had always been afraid that he might accidentally make those same choices, that he would be kept from his brother and his Uncle and nannies for it. Because no one would tell him what those choices were, he studied the rules obsessively so he could be sure to follow every single one. So he would never be locked up.)
There was a rustle, a clink. A shape had formed in the shadows, someone sitting up from being slumped on a table. A pale hand swayed into the pool of silver moonlight, pointing. The voice that followed had been rough, slurred like a mouthful of rocks. “You are not supposed to be here. Go.”
A-Huan had fled as fast as his numbed legs could go. Stumbling, breaking through the crust of snow, falling and rising and falling, back up through his window to collapse on the floor. His breath had burned in his lungs as he coughed and sobbed as quietly as he could, hot tears stinging his frozen cheeks.
Not quietly enough, though. A-Zhan had eventually crept into his room and curled up next to him on the floor without a word, arm wrapped around his middle.  When A-Huan had rolled over and held him more tightly than he had ever held anything before, he realized that A-Zhan was the only part of his mother he had left in the entire world.
And now, what did A-Fu have left of his parents, of a life he knew? 
A story, at the very least. A reason. A goodbye. The truth. It was all he could offer. It was all he had left for the boy. These other spirits and their wishes can only be passed along to others, if they were attainable at all. But this, this he can do; this, he can set right. To make absolutely sure that her will is found and executed, that the family who cares for her son is told the story of her last farewell, so he will know, too, in time. 
So a son will never have to wonder.
This much peace, he can provide. With those who can bear this place no more and an endless caravan of cloth draped bodies, he returns to Gusu, leaving behind Qishan’s bleeding sky.
-
The quiet of home stuns him. There are no screams, no groans echoing down the mountain. The trees don’t muffle sounds of sword or talisman sizzle, merely birdsong and wind. There is beauty here, something he hadn't known his soul craved like water in a drought until he saw it in rich blues, blooming whites, lush greens. The coolness, the clarity of the water and the touch of leaves. Nothing here is red-brown. All that bleeds is hidden away behind pale bandages and pale walls.
It's almost too much. 
(His hands feel filthy, no matter how many times he scrubs them. Discontent among such blessings is an insult to those that can no longer come home to them. He will kowtow in the shrine for this disrespect later.)
Time has meaning once more. In theory. There are places to eat, to rest. 
(It hardly makes sense to him anymore, despite the schedule being as familiar as the stone beneath his feet.)
Home, in the Hanshi, surrounded by familiarity and comfort, sitting at his desk as the incense burner next to him delicately permeates the air with sandalwood and the trees outside rustle and no one screams at all, he holds Pan Liu’s will in his hands. It is a brief, frail little thing in the face of such sorrow. It must have been hastily written after her husband’s death, as she willed A-Fu and her remaining possessions to the care of her younger sister. Who upon brief investigation of his ever growing list of the dead was found to have been killed in the battle against Wei Wuxian as well. The sister, yet unmarried, had no will of her own--probably too young to have begun to even consider death as a real possibility before life and Wen and war swept their way in. Their house had been one destroyed in the Wen’s sacking of the Cloud Recesses, their personal possessions few. No one else remained of their immediate family.
Pan Liu clearly had not expected to die before she could update it.
In his heart, somewhere, he had known that something like this was the case; that A-Fu was truly alone. Xichen had carried him for days and no one had come looking? No one had wondered where he was, wanted him home safe, with them? 
He had not wanted to look directly at this, at the time, knowing he would have to give A-Fu back to that loneliness, that uncertainty. Even though A-Fu is not the only child in the Cultivation World or even the Cloud Recesses with the same fate, it had been…different. He couldn’t have said why--still can’t--but it had felt like a betrayal to the boy. A loss, savage and personal. Even when he knew any other choice came nowhere close to making sense.
Still. Even he and Wangji had had their uncle and the small, rotating cadre of minders that were familiar to them. He saw his mother once a month and knew his father was there, somewhere, out of sight. There had been a thread connecting them to their parents and the life they could have had with them. 
A-Fu has none of this. 
And yet he still cries, still calls out, because he trusts that someone he knows will come. Of everything in these last few days, this is what is almost too much to bear, a knife stuck in his ribs that gouges with every breath. He does not feel sadness or regret; only pain. Everything else has been out of reach for a while now.
The rattle of his door opening onto seeping sunshine and fresh, bloodless air has him looking up. His Uncle steps over the threshold. “You’re back,” he says warmly by way of greeting as Xichen rises.
“Shufu.” He bows, then offers him his customary seat, more out of habit than necessity; this teatime visit was a familiar ritual in a life not too long ago.
 They take their places at opposite ends of the low, square table at the center of his sitting room as Xichen opens his tea cupboard. “It’s been a while since we have been able to simply sit and have tea together,” Uncle observes, easily.
Yes; nothing has been right or normal for a long time. “Mn.”
When he continues to set out the cool porcelain cups and the dark pot with no further elaboration, Uncle watches him work, expression a thoughtful blur in his periphery.  “...The library is not where I expected your first stop to be.” 
He sounds only mildly curious, but Xichen knows that it is unspoken approval that he had not gone straight to Wangji.
He hesitates, then continues his methodical ritual of movement. “There was a time-sensitive matter that I wanted to attend to.”
In truth, after the bath he had taken upon his return--where he had had to call for 3 rounds of water (Do not be wasteful, Rule 23; broken) before it was no longer clouded dark with dried blood and mud and rot--Xichen had stood on the Hanshi’s front porch, staring down at the blindingly white path before him, forking off through the trees. 
His heart had tugged him one way and his cowardice in the face of pain another. The thought of seeing more bodies just lying there, of seeing those dear to him--Wangji, A-Yuan, those in the infirmary--suffering while he could do nothing to prevent it was….
It was not something he was capable of, at present. Just for now. Just for these first few hours. It was selfish, but true. And so, he had gone to their records room in the library to request Pan Liu’s will. Pain had won. His heart was weak, choosing the easier duty.
Unable to stop himself, though he knows it will cloud his uncle’s relaxed and pleasant demeanor, he asks; “Is Wangji…?” He trails off. 
Awake? Improving? Well? …Alive? A sharp internal rebuke at this last. Do not exaggerate. Rule 671. Uncle would not be so calm if things were dire. He is angry, not cruel. He would have been told.
(A heavy hand on his shoulder. An empty house. Churned snow.)
He would have been told.
Uncle’s face does, indeed, darken. “Hmph.” A mirthless, scornful snort. “He wakes on occasion. He refuses to speak, refuses to acknowledge anyone. He is simply lengthening his own punishment.” Uncle eyes him, adding, “You should be able to talk some sense into him. He always has listened to you best.” 
‘And so how could you have let this happen? How could you have let him do this?’ 
(When will you stop being angry and start being afraid for him?)
Xichen lowers his gaze to the dark wood of the table and scoops the tiny, furled up leaves of the tea into the pot, the smokey green scent tickling his nose
It’s true. Of everyone--their caregivers, teachers, and relatives, Wangji has always responded to him best. He would not always necessarily disobey outright, but he might frown or hesitate before complying or pretend not to hear--especially if he were called to come away from Xichen’s side. “Your class is this way, xiao-gongzi,” the minder would call and A-Zhan would continue his resolute little stride beside him, hand squeezing tighter around Xichen’s fingers the only indication he had heard anything at all. 
It was when Xichen squeezed back and knelt down to straighten his robes, smiling up into his serious face, saying, “It’s alright, ZhanZhan; I’ll ask if I can come out early to pick you up, mn? Go on, be good,” that he would allow himself to be led away with no further fuss.
 He had been the only one who could finally convince him that kneeling in the rocky ground every month when they should have been visiting their mother would not force anyone to bring her out to them. The first time, he had asked him to come in, come home. But knew his brother. He was not surprised when he silently refused to even show he had heard him. 
And so he hadn’t asked again, never having the stomach to fully destroy the hope that he would be let back into the Jingshi if he just waited long enough. 
But Uncle had become frustrated, their teachers and nannies muttering. They were impatient with his refusal, seeing it as disobedience. They didn’t see his mourning, only his stubbornness. So A-Huan had had to protect his brother's soft heart from those that didn’t understand. “We can kneel together, back at home,” he had whispered, his fingers screwed tight around A-Zhan’s cold hand. “I’ll wait with you as long as you want. But niang would--” his throat had caught and he had wrestled his tears from his voice. “Niang would hate if you got sick, sitting out here in the cold all day.”
A-Zhan’s dark eyes had bored into him, thinking. Reason and punishment and demands from adults had not moved his stubborn frame one inch, month after month after winter-to-spring month. 
Then, finally, this second and last time, A-Zhan had listened to him. Whatever it was about him was what finally got his little brother slowly, stiffly to his feet to hobble back home with him. Xichen remembered that he hadn’t felt relieved at all. He just felt like he had taken their mother from him all over again.
“I will speak with him, shufu.”
 Uncle nods, then heaves a sigh. “What news is there from Qishan?”
Mechanically, as if operating his own mouth from across the room, Xichen relays numbers, movements, and times. He almost reflexively scolds himself for lying; the mundane description of dry duty and the lived horror so far from one another that they were entirely irreconcilable. Just words passed across a shining table over fragrant tea, cool wind brushing the sun-pale windows serenely with tree shadows
When he reaches the final fate of Wei Wuxian’s executed Wen contingent, Uncle approves. “It was wise to swear the disciples to secrecy. This has all gotten so inhumane. Denying them burial was an unnecessary cruelty,” he says heavily as he shakes his head, eyes closed in weariness. “I pray that we are done with this madness at last, with that Wei Ying finally taken care of. What a mess.”
There is silence. Xichen cannot fathom what his response to that could possibly be. Should possibly be--as Wangji’s brother, as the Lan Clan Leader, as his uncle's nephew. As Wei Wuxian’s…what. Friend? 
…As one who cannot delight in his death, in any case. 
Despite the period of kneeling before the Jingshi, Wangji had never been a troublemaker growing up. He was always the Jade who grasped the Lan way of life more easily, molded himself to the rigidity of the rules with that same stubborn tenacity. 
It was Xichen who failed in that, who smudged the black and white lines to gray, bent them so they were slightly more comfortable around him; bearable--once he discovered that they could be. 
He was the one who accidentally got drunk trying to see if he could filter out alcohol with his core, he was the one to kiss Mingjue first in the Jin Gardens during a Cultivation Conference. The one to urge his brother to befriend a talented teenager who was gleefully and repeatedly stomping all over their Clan’s ancestral rules.
He was the one who had told Wangji to step outside his rigid view of the world, to see people for their hearts. And then Wangji's own heart had been torn out. As his uncle said; Wangji had always listened to him best. This much would never have happened without Xichen's deliberate meddling. 
All those years ago, when Wei Wuxian had first cannonballed into their lives, Xichen had just wanted Wangji to be happy. To have friends. Alone didn’t always mean lonely, but he knew he saw it in his brother. Saw Wangji with peers who were merely in awe of his talent, who respected but did not like him, love him, know him, want to spend time with him. He knew the difference, no matter what Wangji showed the rest of the world. The older he got, the less he smiled--the soft, secret ones that so many others failed to see. Xichen had missed them, dearly. And so he had pushed.
Everything that has happened sense feels as if it’s unshakably all his fault.
As the tea is poured, they speak; it passes over him like clouds. Which elder is still in which stage of recovery. The smith they called to repair swords and assess the spirits of those now without a handler. 
Something touches him.
 “Xichen!” 
His hand burns. He is on his feet. Shuoyue’s naked blade buzzes, ready in his hand. He does not remember moving. Every fiber of cloth on his skin feels alive and writhing. Blood courses. Scalding tea is cooling, dripping from his knuckles.
The touch had been spiritual, not physical. From the corner of his awareness and the Cloud Recesses boundary wards at once; a warning, tasting of wild metal (close to blood, so close). 
The Western Wards, crossed.
“Do not unsheathe your blade in a residence!” Uncle’s face crinkles from shock to a wince. “And contain yourself, this is not a battlefield.”
It takes a moment. His killing intent is up, streaming from his core like a river of blades, of blood. 
Sucking in a breath, he takes the torrent in internal hand and yanks it back, firmly, like the reins of a horse, winding the silk rope of it over again and again in the palm of his concentration, until the thrum of it eases. The pressure that had filled the room with the promise of death ebbs. Shuoyue hums warm, expectant. When he does finally sheathe her, the connection between them flickers, confused. 
Above his hammering heart, he hears Uncle continue, frowning, “I felt it, too. Was it someone passing outward or inward?”
His tongue, his mind is mud-stuck slow.
Focus. There is no battle here. You are home. Get a hold of yourself.
“...Outward. Less resistance. Nothing powerful.”
Oddly, at this Uncle’s frown deepens, shadows of concern replacing mere puzzlement. “Hmm. Those were in the West…far….” After a moment of thought, he rises.
As he steps out the door and calls for a servant from the Hanshi’s porch, Xichen continues to try to pull in slow, deep breaths.
Have you regressed to being such a novice that you cannot control your own qi? Your own battle intent? Are you a child? Though his uncle's voice is low and his attention is divided, the words ‘searchers’ makes it through the pounding blood in his ears. Strange.
When Uncle slides the door back open, Xichen asks, “Searchers?”
His silhouetted form hesitates, framed by the sunlight that pours in behind him and dazzles Xichen’s eyes, leaving his expression briefly in shadow. “...Yesterday evening, a child managed to wander into the woods alone.” A spike of cold worry threatens to heighten the wild surge of energy within him once more as his uncle continues, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “We have had several teams scouring the backhill and the whole of our land since then. They are young enough that their spiritual signature isn’t strong enough to register on normal tracking talismans.”
“Why was I not told?!” 
It burst from him, harsher from shock than he had meant and Uncle blinks, pausing in settling himself back onto his seat, brow furrowed.
But he cannot bring himself to care about disrespect, just now. Any child alone and lost is terrifying, awful. There is something, though…something about his tone, his expression that has breath caught in Xichen’s throat as slow, glacial horror creeps up from the depth of his gut. He is avoiding specifics. 
Why.
 “It is being handled already; why would I distract you from your duties? You’ve only just returned and you must--”
“Who. Which child.”
He huffs in irritation, brow furrowing further. And he shuts his mouth, lips compressing.
Xichen no longer needs an answer.
Behind him, he can hear Uncle’s voice raised in startled alarm, but he is already out the door, already leaping from the porch onto Shuoyue. The wind howls in his ears as shoots upward, speeding west to where he had felt the wards ring within him. To where A-Fu has just crossed beyond their safety.
He knows. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.
Xichen can barely breathe around the air battering his face and his own terror. The shrieking sky threatens to rip him from Shuoyue’s blade. Everything at once feels heightened, his awareness expanding to notice how chilly it is despite the sun, how the damp of the wind tearing at his hair and clothes tells of rain in the past day, how dark the woods look beneath the thick canopy blurring by below his feet. He had been alone and cold and terrified, out all night. Had the boy been trying to find his mother? Xichen? The thought made his gut writhe within him.
(They peel his little fingers from Xichen’s sleeve as he clutches and screams…)
Please please please please please
How could this happen? How could he have ever allowed this to happen? There were rivers, cliffs, steep slopes of scree, ponds, caves, animals--gods, animals alone would--
He is well enough to move, to cross the wards.
If it was him. If it were not a strong enough spiritual animal to trigger the alarm. 
There is no boy hanging among them THERE IS NO--
The invisible boundary rears up in his senses, mere seconds full tilt sword ride from the Hanshi but so, so far for a tiny child, wandering in the night. Beneath the canopy, before Shuoyue even manages to drop to a reasonable height and speed, he has already leapt off, landing at a sprint. Internally, the memory of the disruption in the web of the spell warps around his spiritual awareness like a broken arch as he crosses in that exact place. The ground is not suddenly more treacherous, the trees no more menacing, but beyond the relative safety of the Cloud Recesses, his hammering heart sees the whole world is a death trap for this little child.
(He cannot bear to see a tiny body, he can’t, he can’t--)
Skidding to a stop, he wheels in place, eyes scouring everything at knee level and below. “A-Fu!” his throat is pinched, his mouth bone dry. “A-Fu?!”
The ground cover is thick with bushes, shrubs, trees both young and fallen. The sun shines spots into his eyes through the swaying leaf cover above, dappling the floor with shadow and light, dancing, blurring. Silence. Even the birdsong had stopped when this strange being had suddenly crashed into their peaceful little clearing. He sucks in a breath to call again--and then he hears it.
There is a small child crying somewhere nearby. 
Quiet and hoarse but unmistakable.
He isn't slow, gentle, or cautious or anything that a terrified child might need right now; something else has a hold of him, now. He blindly crashes through the brush towards the sound, half skidding down a slope until--until! There! 
A blur of white amongst tree roots halfway down, a curled shape and-- “A-Fu!”--a little face, smudged and red cheeked and tear stained raises and his little eyes light with recognition and he scrabbles, fumbling and crawling out as Xichen tears back up the slope--slips, rights himself--and reaches and the boy throws himself off the lip of the hollow and into his arms, colliding hard with his chest like his heart coming home. 
He staggers, momentum and sudden weakness buckling his knees. A gnarled tree catches his side and he slides them down into the huddle of its roots, curled around him. Against his chest, wrapped in his arms, A-Fu is damp and chilly. He is covered in muck and sticks and burrs but he’s alive--alive--safe and hiccuping and piteously hoarse, tangling his hands through Xichen’s hair as he clutches him back, gasping.
He can breathe. He can finally breathe again.
Some unnameable agony, like some wild beast, is thrashing, welling up, bursting from his chest. It shakes him, tearing at his throat, his heart, his lungs, burning. It’s not relief. It's not fear. It’s…
Heedless of stitches cracking and bursting, he yanks his thicker outer robes open and over the child, tucking him deep into the pocket of warmth. He can feel him shivering, his tiny heart speeding.
He had forgotten that his head is so warm, that his hands are so tiny, just how real his weight is in his arms. When he buries his nose in the baby fluff of his hair, under the dirt and musty forest chill is that wild-sweet child smell he remembers from carrying him for days beneath his chin--and long ago from when Wangji was young. 
He tries to pull back to check him for injuries, for bruising, but he latches onto his neck and sobs. Mere minutes before, Xichen had never wanted to hear another scream again--but now he wishes A-Fu’s cries were as loud as the first day he held him, deafening and demanding, sure and strong in their conviction. These sobs are private, weak, exhausted little things. Not calling for attention. No longer certain of a trusted adult’s return.
“P’ease,” he croaks and that pain, that pressure bears down on Xichen and it feels like drowning; it feels like dying.
“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m here,” he whispers back, thick and choked (that thing inside him that aches, that wails, that loves is strangling him), and he draws up his knees, he wraps his robes tighter and rocks and rocks them both as it breaks--all of it, calving and crashing and surging and molten and ugly and broken--and he wants to beg ‘scream, little love, scream your heart out; someone is coming, someone will always come,’ but he doesn't have enough breath as it tears from his locked throat in silent sobs, because with unworthy hands and heart, he holds this blameless little life that has wandered through the halls of his heart leaving muddy fingerprints, and does the cruelest, most selfish thing he can ever recall doing. 
He realizes that he cannot let him go again. 
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hyacinthdoll1315 · 1 month ago
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4 Months of Moth HRT
Well, I got sick again. Uuuugh, like, I got the flu I think two weeks ago, it seemed to get better, and then I got sick again? not to mention what I've been feeling all week anyway and it sucks.
Okay, uh so, update time. (maybe i should talk about myself? just leave it at what happened.) So I'm not hanging out with my friends anymore. I think I already said I'd be doing that in the last update but it's way different to do something compared to saying it (say? do?) and well, my friend circle has become rather, small. Like, Alice still comes by sometimes to chat and hang out (yesterday? last week? I can't remember) but beyond her and maybe one or two friends I've made online, I'm pretty much alone in my little flat.
I don't really have the money to afford a big house or a cottage (maybe I could make one? flatting on land. how much money for a tiny forest home?) so for now I've been renting a small room in the city. It has been rather livable and nice in the past, but now, it's (HURTSHURTSHURTSHURTS can figure something out carsaretooLOUD) not great. Still, I'm working on a solution and I'm sure things will be okay, I think.
Um, still, I've been making progress in other things though! My tea has been really nice lately, and I found out that leaves are kind of tasty now? like, not lettuce or kale but like, small leaf parts are really yummy, I've um, kind of been buying tea bags just to open them and eat them found the leaves in tea to be a good snack.
My sense of smell is really good now too! And not just for tea, but other things. It's a little awkward since even when wearing a mask, I can still sometimes smell things (including things I did not think I'd be able to smell) which can sometimes be a bit gross. But the smell of different plants has been so calming!
My sense of taste has also changed a lot. I may not be eating cotton (not all moths do!! >:c ) but meats are just, not the same anymore, while stuff like carrots have been really nice! I can't be sure, but I think my reaction to some things have changed too? I can't tell I don't remember sugar keeps making me very excited, but at the same time, chocolate has been making me feel sick. (why must you betray me my dear chocolate?) Spicy food is also an absolute no-go now, I tried a bit of mild and started coughing from just the smell.
My eyesight hasn't been too good lately either, which I was told to expect as my eyes change. It's kind of like, everything was normal but blurry, and then suddenly I'm seeing a slightly fuzzy double vision? but now it's triple vision! it's kind of funny seeing like this! if I look in the mirror I end up just seeing like, 9 of me? super fun times with mirror buddies! it's super trippy but cool.
Sadly, this comes with a few downsides.
As said, I still don't know why but I've been feeling very sick (body just goes ick coughing, drool, sore throat, stomach aches) sometimes, and my sense of time sometimes slips, where I might be somewhere in midday, and suddenly the suns moved and I might be across the street? (amnesia? ADHD gone worse?) it tends to be a little after eating some things, but I don't know what's causing it. My stomach will just hurt really bad and sometimes, especially after something sugary, time seems to stutter.
I felt a bit better last week (thank goodness), like it was a bad flu that had finally passed, but now it's back again. not to mention, I think last time my body felt, tight? It, It hurts now. Like, not super sore, but like a headache across my whole body. I don't know what it is but I can see black splotches beneath my skin (blood? chitin? poison?) and I'm a bit scared. I tried asking the doctor for help, but he just gave me a reschedule for next week, the asshole barely knows and if I go to the ER, I'm not sure what they'll do. Maybe that's paranoid, but I don't think the doctors there will understand and will just assume I'm an alien or messed up human like everyone else.
I'm scared.
I don't think I can keep this to myself, I'm so lonely so I'm sending this journal entry online I think. Who knows, maybe someone will have the answer? (I'm not going off the hrt) so well, if anyone has any idea of how to fix this, or just has some funny cat videos to share or just wants to message, um, please do.
Goodbye Talk to you all later. Emily.
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octuscle · 2 years ago
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Help i need some customer suport.
My parents called me a spoiled brat. They grabed my phone did something tossrd it back, then told me to get out of there house. When i drove my the construction site only a few bocks away my phone started making a lot of nose. The notifications keep poping up saying "scanning" and "new setting confermed". My brain feels really fuzzy and my whole body is sore. Please help i dont know whats happening.
Well… I took a look at your file… Spoiled brat is actually a gross understatement. Have you ever worked in your life?
Unfortunately, I can't do anything for you as a support… The cell phone is in your father's name. And he has also licensed the Chronivac app. With the premium package. This means that I can now take care of you exclusively for a week. It's my pleasure. So I'll take over the remote control of you. Steer your show-off Porsche into the driveway at the construction site. And park it in the mud next to the other pickups and vans. Then get out. Don't worry about your Gucci loafers. You won't be wearing them much longer anyway.
The closing of your car door sounded different than usual. Sure, the door of an old Dodge van sounds different than the door of a new Porsche 911. Ever looked at your watch? You're running pretty late. Your foreman is going to be really stressed. Oh! You can't even look at your watch anymore? No idea where your Rolex went. Now get your work clothes out of the back of the van. You don't have time to go to the locker room, change right here at the van. To make it easier for you, the clothes are still new and clean. Don't worry, we'll change that in the course of the day.
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Your colleagues liked the show. You are also very cute to look at. For now. Already in the lunch break with the mud-smeared clothes, the dirt under the manicured fingernails it looks different. You still notice that something is wrong. That you don't really belong here. But don't worry, that will come. And don't expect special treatment just because you are the son of the builder. On the contrary, your foreman will be especially hard on you.
End of the day! Finally! You have to bum cigarettes from your colleagues. Unfortunately, you don't have any money. It may still cost you a bit of courage to blow your colleagues in the filthy porta-potty. But that's okay for a beer and a pack of cigarettes. You'll get used to it. You're still at the bottom of the food chain on the construction site. But now lie down in your bunk in the sleeping container. You don't have any pajamas. Wimp, you have underpants. You'll be wearing them all the time for the next few days.
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I must say, you've adjusted well in the last week. Accepted by the other lads. Your foreman is pleased with you. And meanwhile you're blowing like the devil. You don't swallow any more dicks for a beer and a pack of cigarettes. Your rate has risen significantly. In any case, today you're going back to your parents. You can take care of the roof. And maybe repair the garden wall. Make your parents proud. You're becoming a real man!
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crashimminent · 7 days ago
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Hello! Might I request transmasc Anya headcanons if you do those things? Anything is fine, I just want my daily dose of transgender. Yum!
YESSSS YES YES YES ANON YOUR BRAIN
I will be referring to Anya by He/Him pronouns on this post- if this isn’t what you had in mind, please correct me!
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The big question is always “is he on hormones?” and honestly? No, I don’t think so.
T can be a lot! Gel can feel gross, shots can be scary and painful, patches may slip, etc etc etc.
Not to mention costly. He’s already struggling with nursing school, damn it. A prescription is just another hassle.
Top surgery is definitely on the plans up there. He’s still anxious about the idea, but knows he won’t really regret it.
Until then, his binder will do. He takes extra precaution to follow the safety rules, especially while in space.
Pony Express hired him, at the very least. Even if they’re a corporate who’s likely deeply transphobic at their core, they want money, damn it!
It’s sort of illegal to ask about that anyways. So it’s fine.
He prefers to wear bigger, baggier clothes. Nurse scrubs tend to be unisex, so it’s not like his clothes options are limited…
But sweaters and turtlenecks seem to be big favorites.
He likes his long hair too. It’s easy to tie back into a ponytail. Frames his face nicely.
The socks and sandals were deliberate though. That was a specific euphoria producing thing. People groan and call him an old man.
It’s just a nice idea to think he’d get there. To grow old as himself.
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It’s not really poorly received though. The crew has other worries than the personal lives of the others.
Jimmy himself isn’t really… transphobic. Just sort of… anti-Anya. He makes lots of remarks to make Anya feel self conscious or dysphoric.
Mainly about his body. A lot about his body. It’s hard to determine whether he’s trying to help Anya “pass”, or if he just wants to jab at insecurities.
Curly… is trying! He doesn’t quiiite get it, but he’s accepted Anya as “one of the boys”, and tries to engage in almost frat style humor.
And you know what? If there’s a different name he prefers, the name “Anya” is getting nigh erased from the ship. Curly sure likes his paperwork to be accurate, it it’ll be accurate!
Swansea doesn’t care. Really, why would he? He’s not thrilled to be on a ship full of guys, but it doesn’t change anything.
( He does chat up Anya though, compares him to his own sons every now and then. He’s an oldtimer, but that’s no excuse to be a bigot. )
Daisuke takes this as an invitation. Whenever Swansea isn’t working him like a dog, he’s down in medbay, talking about girls and sports and video games and whatever he can think of that Anya might have an interest in.
Like, Anya’s a guy, right? He’s GOT to be interested in girls. What do you MEAN that’s not how it works? Daisuke knows everything there is to know about the ladies, and he’s gotta tell the guy!
He seems to forget Anya used to have hands on experience.
It’s… a bit of a relief that the restrooms on the ship aren’t separated by gender.
The crew tries to give him space, even if he doesn’t entirely mind that much. They don’t go in the showers if they know he’s there.
Swansea once came in while he was showering. They didn’t really say anything.
What’s he meant to care? They’re in different stalls, and…
Well. Swansea has a bigger rack than him. If anyone’s staring, it’s Anya. (Which of course, he didn’t- he’s got priorities.)
It’s still a little awkward navigating the social environment as a trans guy- a lot of effort is put into making him fit in when he really just wants to be treated normally.
But it’s nice to be seen and heard about one thing.
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marlynnofmany · 2 years ago
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Interspecies Adventures While Sick
“Hi again, Smooth Vibrations,” I rasped, trying not to cough. “I’ve got a pickup for Zhee.”
Running errands with a cold was never fun, but at least this one was quick. And I was even sure that I’d met this vendor before. Waterwills really do all look the same to human eyes, since the size and color of their column-of-jello bodies was liable to change depending on health, but this one was wearing a nametag. I say wearing, but really she had it floating near the front. I was glad for that. There was no chance I’d pick up the frequencies they identify each other by otherwise.
“Welcome back!” said Smooth Vibrations brightly. Someday I’d figure out how they produced sounds, but it had never felt polite to ask. “We haven’t seen your ship in a while. Is Zhee ill?”
I shook my congested head. “He’s fine; I’m sick. He’s just busy and asked me to grab his order on my way to go rest.” I sniffed, but only one nostril was working.
“Sounds like a big favor,” the Waterwill said as she extended an arm tendril to open a drawer.
“Eh, not too bad,” I told her. “It’s a minor sickness. I probably caught it from somebody on the last station a few days ago; I don't think anyone on my ship can even get human diseases.”
“That’s convenient,” Smooth Vibrations said. “If—”
My explosive sneeze interrupted her. I’d turned away and aimed into the crook of my arm, but it was a loud one. Also unpleasantly messy. I’d have to wash this shirt.
“Excuse me,” I said, wiping my nose on the sleeve. “Ugh.”
When I looked back at her, I found the Waterwill frozen in place, her surface covered in alarmed-looking spikes. Even the vague shapes floating about her interior had stilled. Before I could ask if she was okay, she exclaimed, “What was that?”
“A sneeze?” I said. “Have you not seen that before?”
“That’s normal?” she demanded. The spikes began flattening out.
“For sick humans, yes,” I said, digging in a pocket for a tissue. “Probably other species too. Something was irritating my breathing passages, and that’s a way to get it out. Automatically. I don’t have much control over it.” I glanced at my befouled sleeve. “More’s the pity.”
She started to say something else as I blew my nose, then she stopped. The spikes didn’t reappear, but I got the impression that she was shocked in a different way. I couldn’t blame her. Those snotty noises were gross even to me. One tissue was barely enough.
“What did you say?” she asked when I was done.
I re-wound my memory. “More’s the pity?” I asked.
“After that!” she said, sounding scandalized.
“I didn’t say anything. I just blew my nose.”
“Are you sure?” she pressed. “Because that sounded an awful lot like—” She produced a snotty sound of her own, which really did sound similar.
“Wow, is that your language? I swear I didn’t do it on purpose!” This was fascinating. “What did I say?”
Smooth Vibrations paused before saying, “May all your organs clump together.”
“No, I definitely didn’t mean to say that!” I assured her, laughing a bit. “I’m so sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she said primly, going back to the drawer. “Let’s get you that order so you can go back to your ship and rest.”
“Yes please,” I said, looking down at the tissue and wondering what to do with it. Asking to throw it in her trash can just didn’t seem polite. I ended up crumpling it and shoving it in a pocket; I’d wash all my clothes later anyway. Bluh. I hate being sick.
“Here it is,” Smooth Vibrations announced, placing a flat case on the counter. “Do you want a bag?”
“Sure,” I said, trying to make out the brightly-colored text. “Your bags are really neat.”
Smooth Vibrations sounded proud as she said, “That’s Waterwill efficiency for you!” She moved the case into a clear bag that was made out of a thin layer of their patented solid-water technology. It didn’t get anything wet, and it would evaporate in a day. So clever. “I hope you get your rest, and Zhee enjoys his music. The Loud Ones are a fine band.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard their stuff, but the name sounds familiar,” I said as I picked up the bag. It felt smooth and cool against my fingers.
“Their biggest song is ‘What The Hell Is A Shuwog?’” she told me.
“Ohh, I remember that one!” I flashed back to my first day with this crew, and Paint’s lively rendition of the song about Mesmer body parts. Zhee had been particularly grumpy about it, insisting that the song was a dishonor to his glorious blade-arms. But now he was buying the album? I laughed, then had to cough. “This is why he wanted me to pick it up for him, instead of waiting for Paint to do her supply run!” I exclaimed. “She’d never let him live it down that he actually likes that song!”
Smooth Vibrations burbled in amusement. “Sounds like you’ve got some blackmail material if he ever sends you out while you’re sick again.” She waved me away with three arm tendrils. “Go rest!”
“I will!” I told her. “Thanks!” With another sniffle that was hopefully not a different rude word, I hurried back to my ship and a much-needed nap.
~~~
The ongoing backstory of the main character from this book. More to come!
The shuwog bit is a callback to this story.
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mistress-lou · 1 year ago
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Neir Automata charachters react to meeting a human (you)
Requested by me self indulgent writing :)
9s
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Let's be honest the first time you two meet he probably shrieks
And not a small one like a really high pitched excited bird screech
After your ears were finished ringing and you could finally hear him he bombards you with questions and at first you answer them politely to the best of your ability
"So is it true humans don't rust?"
"Well no but we go through something similar called 'aging' pretty much our bones become more and more fragile over time our skin begins to sag and we have trouble moving around and we usually have little to no energy by the time we reach our 40's."
"Wow you guys have it rough! But can't you all avoid the effects of 'aging' by doing routine maintenance and replacing all of your the parts of you that are irreparably damaged?"
You have to explain that while yes keeping up to date with your body to keep it healthy and doing your best to get rid of all of the impurites inside your body can help you can never really stop the effects of aging
He doesn't really get it but is both surprised and happy to know that your body can heal minor injuries on it's own. But still keeps a close eye on you anyway
Reads all the codex that he can find on humans no matter how small it may seem he doesn't want to risk it especially after knowing you can't just replace all your broken and corrupted parts like other androids can
Starts to carry a small notebook around with him where he writes your conversations, your personal interests, allergies, eating habits, sleeping schedule, and even your bathroom breaks (yes gross ik but he wants to know when him and 2b should take a break from adventuring so you can relax)
Definitely likes to gossip with you about other YoRHa members and especially how much of a pain their commander is (which is often quickly silenced by 2b)
Ask about 2b and he'll talk for hoooours
Like he won't shut up about her goddamn you'd think he'd at least have filter and stay a bit more quiet when she's only like 5 feet away
Poor guy obviously has big crush on 2b
Although he does sometimes make some flirty comments to his operator too so maybe that's just how he is?? Or maybe he just likes those two in particular because he's close to them
Although he never really talks to you that way but that's fine though!
And 2b never says anything about it so maybe she's just not paying attention or maybe she likes it.....? Your not sure androids are hard to read especially 2b even though you guys are relatively close now
2b
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Just no
The moment she saw you she literally turned on her heel and walked the other way
9s had to grab her and literally beg for her to hear you out because she just wanted none of it
After a few minutes of convincing she agreed to listen to you she thought you were a runaway android at first so she wanted to leave before she might've recieved any orders to bring you back or (slight spoilers) execute you but she decided to hear you out for 9s's sake
Was very surprised when you told her you were a human she didn't believe you at first but after telling her what year you were from, details of the day machines attacked, and a confirmation from YoRHa, she finally decided to beileve your story
Was very annoyed when her new mission was to escourt and protect you while she there on earth completing her main mission
Most likely only kept you around because of 9s and 6O's begging
Very quiet anytime you ask her questions she gives very curt short answers
"So...how are you doing today 2b?"
"All my diagnostics and sensory functions are all green."
"Err..okay how about mentally are you okay?-"
"I don't get tired and all my core and brain functionality are working fine."
"O-oh okay well how about-"
"Machines ahead get back with 9s!"
"But they're like 100 ft away we can just go the other way- wait!!"
"...ugh"
Everytime you complain to 9s that you think 2b just hates you he just constantly reassures you that 2b is just like that and to just give her a little more time to warm up to you
And after travelling with her for a bit it seems like she was starting to warm up to you
For instance any time you tell her she's going to fast she'll slow down, and if your hungry she'll go fishing or go hunt a boar, if your sleepy she'll turn around and head back to the resistance camp.
If you bring it up she'll say she needed some more supplies or she needed some repairs
Won't admit it but she likes having you around because you make 9s smile so much. She loves overhearing your guy's conversations where you guys just laugh and talk (lmao mommy 2b)
Although she hates when you both gang up on her and beg her for a break or to go fishing (totally not an excuse so you and 9s can go play in the water)
She always agrees though (she's a softie and she can't say no to you two)
If you ask her to carry you she will mostly because she knows how much less durable your body is than hers
9s will most likely get jealous and ask for one too and she has no problem with it she'll just pick both of you up and walk off to the resistance camp for rest (although she does find your guy's constant giggling annoying)
A2
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If you thought 2b was bad A2 is something else
The moment she saw you she thought you were a member of YoRHa and tried to take your head off you were lucky and somehow managed avoid her attack by a hair
You frantically explained that you had no idea who YoRHa was and that you weren't an android but a human
She of course didn't beileve you and turned around and left you there ignoring your pleas for help and explanation of what was happening and what happened to earth
Although something was telling her to stick around and watch to see if were telling the truth
So she did she tailed you watching as you scurried away from machines and hid from androids because according to what she heard you say "they're both the same all gears and metal."
Which did secretly tick her off because: How dare you compare us (androids) to those machines!!
After a while of watching you she couldn't tell if you were just reallly dedicated to your role or if you were actually telling the truth
But your luck had to run out eventually
You tripped while running away from three small stubby machines and a goliath biped it was because you were extremely underfed and dehydrated mostly because you could barely find any places to fish or get any fresh water without their being an android or machines watching it and you could never rest more than thirty minutes because you could always hear the loud shuffling and bangs from the machines walking around
So as the goliath raised his arm for the final blow you closed your eyes finally relieved that your days of scavenging and living in constant fear was over
However the end never came you heard a loud thud and whoosh of wind around you as if something had blocked the attack from the biped
Who would have the power to do such a thing?
You heard a series of more loud bangs and slashes and then eventually you heard 4 loud thuds and then silence except for footsteps walking towards you and stopping a few feet next to you
You kept your eyes closed and played dead in the hopes for whatever killed them wasn't very bright and thought it killed you too
"...."
"...."
"Hey I know your not dead I can see your eyes twitching get up or do you want me to leave you here for more of those things to come?
"N-NO!!"
"Then get up"
You did as you were told and followed her back to an abandoned building in the forest close to where you first met her and she was surprisingly kind and told you to rest while she kept watch over you maybe it was her seeing how exhausted you looked (or maybe how slowly you were lagging behind her on the way here gave you away)
But you took her offer gratefully and quickly fell asleep
After waking up the next day with what felt like the best sleep of your life you saw a2 standing over you with a make shift plate made out of bark with moose and boar meat and a cup of water in the other
You gratefully accepted them eating your food rather quickly (choking a bit a few times) and left with A2
After a bit of questioning she explained why she attacked you and (eventually) that she had been following you and you in return told her how you woke up and then accidently ran into her
Your journey with A2 was quiet but fufilling in a way...?
You guys avoided YoRHa members and she taught you how to look for traces of life and where to find running water (sorry but i see her being kind've like a nomad she has to get water somewhere right?) and you told her all about your life in the human world before machines
Like 9s and 2b she keeps a close eye on you and makes sure that your always well fed and well rested so you won't accidently hit anything to hard or cut yourself then fall over and die
And while you explained to her you dont die that easily she'll still make sure you where away from anything sharp and dangerous
Mosst of the time she just grabbed you by the back of your clothes slinging you over her shoulder and just walking around that way
oh how romantic!! 💓 (your pretty sure you say this to cope with idea that she might see you as baggage or worse a pet but you do you)
Operator 6O
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Let's be honest the only reason you'd end up in operator 6O's care was if 2b couldn't handle you anymore and decided to kick you out and send you to the bunker
Which says a lot because she never fails a mission (wth did you do???)
But it's not all bad if anything you have it a lot easier you don't have to walk and walk till your feet feel like they'll fall off, you don't have sleep on the cold hard floor (if you were too far from the resistance camp), and no more life and death battles with the machines
Well not you, you just stood there and watched as 2b and 9s did all the work but you where a great source of emotional support :)
But the bunker was pretty nice if you liked being swarmed and bombarded with questions from all the YoRHa members in the bunker and maybe sometimes subtly touched and groped by them
Thankfully 6O is a little more calm than the others and she'll always ask for your permission before she touches you
But like 9s and the rest of the androids she'll still ask you a ton of questions
Her favorite things to talk about are flowers, animals, fashion, makeup, and skincare
If you know a lot about these topics than hallelujah!! You guys are going to be the best of friends!!
Pretty much a girly girl and if she was born in our modern world she would most likely be a very popular influencer or makeup artist and with her bubbly personality she'd probably have a few thousand if not million followers
She's really good company and she even teaches you how she does her job and you even help around when the other operators are compromised or sick (undergoing repairs) at the moment
Plus androids hearing your voice helps boost morale so it's a win-win
2b is also a favorite subject of 6O's because she considers her to be one of her closest and dearest friends (even more so after she sent her a picture of the desert rose and she does talk about that a lot) so complaining to her about 2b wouldn't do anything she'll probably do the same thing as 9s or just change the subject
And while operator 6O and you were talking another operator came over and gave something to 6O something about a 'gift from 2b'
And inside was a small pouch of makeup!! Goodie
A few 100 years old but hey it's still there!
While she was excited for the gift she didn't know how to use it so of course she looked over at you and gave you the saddest most desperate puppy eyes you'd ever seen
"Hey Y/N can you help me put this on please??"
"Err i'd love you too but i don't think that's safe it expired- well a few hundred years ago.."
"It's okay I'm sure it'll be fine our skin is really durable so it's fine!!!"
"That's not point-"
"Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease please-"
"ALRIGHT ALRIGHT!! Geez..."
Doesn't matter if you have a lot of experience or no experience with makeup she still wants your help
But don't purposely make her look bad please it'll break her heart :(
And after your done helping her apply her makeup (which looks pretty good) she is absolutely ecstatic she loves it and then she insists that it's your turn to do your make up
You do your best to try and explain that your skin wasn't like hers and that it could probably cause a lot of damage to you if not kill you
She'll be really disappointed but understand and she'll just sadly put it away
After a few more days of seeing her eye her makeup and then your face you eventually decide to give in and let her put makeup on your face but only if she helps take care of you if things go wrong and she happily agrees
She did really good actually but you only keep it on for about thirty minutes before you feel your face getting extremingly itchty and take it off to see it gave you a really bad rash (but thankfully that's all it did)
She kept her promise though and she had managed to make some rash cream after finding a recipe in the YoRHa database
And even better the cream was really effiective your rash disappeared in about a week but you told her you'll never be putting on century old makeup again and she wholeheartedly agreed this time
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