#bump again. i just want more input if possible…….

[tinydefector]

Okay. You've got me invested on the newest installation of Human Effects.

Now I can't stop imagine both Humans and Mechs alike having some sort of Google Form where they click on the Human/Mech they want to fuck and see which is the most desired amongst their respective species.

Now that I think about it, I think there'll be a lot of fighting. And chaos.

But then again, we live for the drama.

Human Effects Lost Records

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: talk of sex, human/alien, pornhunting

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Masterlist

Lab logs

Did I take this as an opportunity to merge Human effects and laboratory logs together into a series yes I did. I'll be working on the human Effects timeline where human Effects 2 is spin-off pieces from the mainline.

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The Holo, cyber and inter webs had a strange beauty to them. It has given many the ability to communicate with different planets, species, to share culture, laughter, debates, videos And all sorts thanks to the many different satellites floating out in space. Everyone also enjoyed it for the use of downtime the most. Some had taken to enjoying Earth's entertainment platforms such as YouTube, Netflix and many other sights, others fell into more depraved sights such as Reddit, Twitter,Tumblr, Pornhub, interlink, Processed and other sights. 

Commlink: post Humans Aboard BLO freight.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input. 

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy? 

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it. 

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.  

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs. 

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride. 

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch! 

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

 T-Wrexz: Whoa, whoa, slow your intake there tapemix! As much as I love a good far-fetched tale, I gotta call scrap on this one. Humans weren't even around back then, much less roaming the streets of Rodion as black market pets, I'm all for imagining exotic interface scenarios, but let's keep the stories at least somewhat rooted in known history, yeah?. Last I checked it was probably fabricated by Caminus cartels to make their actual goods seem tame. 

A few other mechs agree with T-Wrexz before a few kliks later a new post is put up. 

Post: 

"Old Iacon records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling" 

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories,  his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication. 

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this! 

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech. 

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.  

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the  records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records. 

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[hazelsmirrorball]

Spiderman’s Biggest Fan |  Jaime Reyes part 3

summary:  Jaime Reyes is the biggest spiderman fan. His girlfriend on the other hand is Spiderman's biggest hater. 

pairings: Jaime Reyes x Spiderman! FemReader 

a/n:  Part 3 baby! Hope you guys are enjoying this little series. There’s going to be one more part. I hope you guys enjoy it. Wrote this in my literature class. 

warning: English isn’t my main language. Angsty and kinda sad. Scenes taken out of No Way Home. Not edited

[MASTERLIST]

part one. part two  part four part five.

Timing was never right when it came to Y/n’s life. Uncle Ben’s death, getting bit by the radioactive spider in the beginning of her relationship, Attempting to protect Palmera as she was surviving her teenage years. She finally wanted to scream to the world, well her world that she was Spiderman. But maybe the odds weren’t in her favor, maybe it was better if he didn’t know she was Spiderman. What he didn’t know couldn’t kill him. It was hard sometimes to understand what was good about being Spiderman. Don’t get her wrong she didn’t hate it but recently she wasn’t the biggest fan. But there was something positive about being Spiderman and keeping it a secret. Everyone was safe. Safe from danger and all the villains Palmera had to offer, but now with Doc Ock outside of her apartment she hesitated on what was actually safe for her family. No one besides the Justice League and Milagro knew her  identity. She had made it her job to be as discreet as possible making it impossible to trace Spiderman to her and her family. Aunt Marisol was the only thing she had left of the family. She couldn’t lose her. Y/n wasn’t going to lose her. 

Y/n snapped back to reality noticing who Jaime held onto both of her hands searching for her gaze to calm her down. Before Milagro could even speak again Y/n got up from the bed taking Jaime by the hand and Milagro by the arm. She led them  both as quickly as possible into their safe room, Marisol made in case any emergency would’ve happened. Ever since Uncle Ben died due to a robbery her aunt had become paranoid with the villains in Palmera city. Spiderman eased Marisol nerves, making her grateful for her doing patrol. Y/n never really thought it was important to have that, but now she was thankful of her Aunt’s paranoia. 

Y/n rushed the Reyes siblings into the room noticing that everyone else was  sitting inside panic filling their faces. As she paced back and forth trying to think what was best for them, Y/n looked towards the door and scanned the room once again, her eyes bumping into Jaime. 

“Get inside Jaime. It’s not safe outside” She responded seriously, not wanting to be questioned right now.  Right wasn’t the time for the family to find out about her secret identity but it also wasn’t the time for Jaime to get all protective. Marisol could be dead right now for all they know. 

“Get inside? Are you insane, Y/n! A literal murderer has your aunt and you want me to go inside, While you are there doing what, talking sense into him? Are you hearing yourself right now? I’m not letting you go. This isn’t a prick from your job. It’s a guy that could kill you just by blinking. ” Jaime replied, taking her by the arm. Y/n glared at him sternly. 

“I’m not asking for your input on my decision, Jaime. Now stay inside. ” Y/n responded using her super strength to push Jaime in the room locking the door behind her.  She could hear Jaime pounding on the door, but it was useless, he wasn’t able to break it down.

“Y/n! Please open the door before you do something stupid. You are going to get yourself hurt!”  Jaime yelled, still banging on the door. Y/n slipped on her suit that was hidden behind one of the bases as she heard Jaime’s bickering. 

“I’ll be back! I can’t let anything happen to Aunt Marisol.”  she said against the door before running towards the kitchen where she could see the broken windows. She slipped her body outside of their apartment searching around in an attempt to see her. 

On the other side of the door, Jaime continued to break the security door but he wasn’t able to do a thing. His family looked around in confusion, noticing how Khaji Da was nowhere to be found. 

“Khaji, I really need you right now.” Jaime replied, resting his forehead on the door stopping his constant banging, noticing the blood dripping from his knuckles. 

Jaime, Y/n is going to be fine. Follow her orders and stay here. 

Jaime felt his body drag against the door as he hid his face in his hands desperate tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Milagros slowly walked towards him, sitting by his side. 

 “We are safe here, don’t worry. Nothing bad is going to happen, I bet there’s a superhero on their way soon. Y/n and Marisol will be okay. ” Milagro replied, trying to ease the tension in the dark room. 

“I am the superhero Milly! I can’t wait here if I know that Marisol and Y/n are outside with a maniac.” 

Y/n climbed the tall building as fast as she could, finally reaching the top. She looked around desperately trying to find Doc Oc but  she wasn’t lucky, her view being blocked by smoke coming all around making it quite impossible for her to see. She turned around in her spot trying to discover what was going on as she felt her spider senses tingling. Before she could even process what was going to happen she felt herself being pushed towards the hard ceiling. She looked up to see the familiar pair of eyes looking at her. Y/n tried fighting back but the hold he had on her was strong. He was getting powerful. 

“Look who finally decided to show up. I thought Mister Spiderman has gotten big for Palmera City, I see. Forgot about his little friends in Palmera. I was starting to miss you terribly.” Green Goblin yelled as Y/n attempted to swing a punch but failed miserably.  Goblin laughed as she struggled under his touch. 

“I was taking a break from your bullshit. Might I add that I personally didn’t miss it at all” Y/n muttered moving side to side. Her suit scanned Goblin in an attempt to see how he had gotten so powerful the past two weeks. Her eyes wide as Karen told her the information. 

Target has upgraded his suit and he made more contributions to his DNA. Making him at least eighty percent stronger than before. I believe you should request for backup. 

Y/n rolled her eyes as she muttered a no towards Karen, noticing how she had Batman and Blue Beetle on speed dial. 

“What a pity. I wished we got a visit from the bat, to make things a little bit more interesting than having you around. It’s too easy to win a fight and now thanks to my new upgrades you can’t even fight back. What a shame. I think that your Justice league card should be revoked. They have you fighting the Joker when you aren’t even capable of getting out of my grip. Has Metropolis rubbed on you?” Green Goblin yelled at Y/n as she moved her body attempting to get out of his touch. 

“Whatever this is. You don’t have to involve that citizen. This is between the two of us.” Y/n's voice changed as the artificial intelligence from her suit made her voice sound more “masculine”. 

“Oh you mean your little aunty? Let me tell you she isn’t just a normal citizen. She is attached to you so that means it is a perfect way to get to you and might I add you are good at covering your identity couldn’t find anything aside the fact that she was your aunt. Marisol is a beaut don’t you think? What a shame she has to die. Maybe I could’ve been your new uncle Ben.” And with those words slipping out of Goblins mouth Y/n shoot her spider webs hitting a pipe in front of her while flipping the bodies making her have a hold on the villain in front of her.

 As she slammed through a few floors she could hear Green Goblin laughing as she went down floor by floor. Her anger took over, not even feeling the bricks scrapping her body. Y/n stopped looking down at the man  as she  heard her aunt yelling spiderman. She quickly looked up, noticing that Doc oc was near but Aunt Marisol was nowhere to be found. They were messing with her and it was working. 

Before she could shoot her webs to go to the other villain, Green Goblin took her by the waist throwing her against the crystal door smashing them. Y/n ran as fast trying to avoid another hit or even more damage to her neighbors apartment.  As she caught her breath, Green Goblin clapped slowly taunting her. As he stood a few steps away from her, he laughed looking at her directly. 

“Strong enough to have it all, L/n?” He asked and before he could make the next move. Y/n shoot her webs taking a piece of the door that flew off and slamming it into him. Before It could even hit him, Green Goblin broke it.

“Or too weak to take it” He continued as  Y/n got up trying to swing a punch but Green Goblin quickly caught it, throwing her to the other side of the long hallway. Y/n could feel her body start to weaken as she heard her name come out of his mouth. Green Goblin smashes Y/n  through a window but Y/n quickly  fires webs and pulls herself  back inside only to be flung  through another window, out onto the balcony. Green Goblin pounces onto Y/n. As she lets out a whimper in pain trying to hit him with hands falling miserably she webs the balcony above to flip himself on top of Green Goblin smashing him down to the balcony below. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Y/n tries to web herself away from him. Goblin grabs Y/n’s leg and throws her through a window. 

She limped towards him as she felt her mask breaking. Leaving part of her face visible. Green Goblin smirks at her excitedly as he sees her features

“Always thought you were a dude but now your shitty fighting skills make sense” He responded laughing as his laugh echoed through her ears. She ran towards him pushing him against all the floors of the apartment complex. When they reached the first floor, Y/n took her mask off, taking the man by his suit as she spit her blood on him. 

“I want you to see how well a girl beats your ass”   She responded slamming him against the floor. As every hit got stronger, he laughed harder, messing with her head. 

‘Did you forget who’s in control here? Kill me and your little miss aunt Marisol is dead. What’s it going to be, Y/n. ” He replied, smirking at her. Y/n slowly turned around hearing footsteps behind her. She felt her eyes shut in pain as she noticed Marisol’s body from afar. 

“Go! Please Marisol, run! Marisol please save yourself” As she hears her getting closer. Goblin gripped on her neck laughing maniacally. 

“Your weakness, L/n , is morality. It’s choking you! Can’t you feel it?”  Green Goblin gripped harder as she struggled to breath. 

“Marisol…Please go” Y/n replied, barely audible as she  noticed Green Goblins familiar booms coming towards her at full speed. Marisol, noticing her niece's face, froze dead in her tracks not believing what seeing but didn't notice the bomb that was coming at full speed towards her. Y/n let go of the green goblins body  running as fast as she could towards Marisol but before she could get a step closer her body flew towards the wall as the bomb exploded. 

“L/n,L/n , L/n. No good deed goes unpunished. You can thank me later” Green Goblin said as he left. Y/n tried to move her body as pain overtook her body. Pushing past the pieces of concrete Y/n slipped her body out of the blocks lipping towards Marisol. With all of  her strength she pushed the concrete off Marisol's body trying to see what conditions she was in. Y/n leaned in trying to clean the blood off her face as she noticed the small smile on her lips.  May tries to  get up slowly covered in dust, Y/n slowly caresses her face trying to get the dust out. Y/n clutched her side in pain 

“Marisol, Marisol, I’m here”  Y/n replied while sending her a pained smile. Marisol got up and pulled her into a tight hug. Y/n could feel her tears welding up. Marisol opens her mouth to talk but before a world could come out her body  slowly gave up stumbling back. Y/n quickly catches holding her body close as Marisol mumbles incoherent things as Y/n searches her eyes worriedly. 

“Marisol..it’s okay. We are okay, right? You are okay”’ Y/n replied her breathing changing drastically making her feel a wave of anxiety.

“Yeah, got knocked on my ass” Marisol replied softly letting out a light chuckle. Y/n gave her a side smile as she brushed Marisol hair out of her face.  

“Yeah, me too.” 

“That’s all,” May replied softly, dozing off a little bit. Y/n moved her softly trying to keep her awake.

“I think I broke my ribs” Y/n said trying to gain her attention. Marisol's eyes flutter open watching her wounded side. Y/n clutches to her side wincing as Marisol looks around taking in all the destruction around them. 

“I can’t believe that our nosy neighbors haven’t shown up by now. Haven’t they noticed that they don’t have an apartment anymore” Marisol responded, trying to lighten the mood. Y/n looked around noticing the mess she had made. She scrunched up her face in disgust and disappointed in herself. 

“This is all my fault, Marisol. I never wanted to get you in danger, that’s why I never told you. I wanted to keep you safe and I couldn’t even do that'' Y/n replied, warm tears falling onto her cheeks. Marisol shook her head holding her hand for comfort. 

“This isn’t your fault, Y/n. You are a hero! You did the right thing. That’s amazing.Now it makes so much sense the fact that you “outgrew” your asthma ” She said grinning. Y/n let out a teary laugh as she shook her head. Marisol was at the verge of death and she still managed to make jokes. 

“Still, Marisol. It’s not my responsibility, I should be like a normal adult working studying, not risking my family's life!” She exclaimed  as she squeezed Marisol's hand. 

“No, no, no, Y/n. You listen to me, You have a gift. You have power, and with great power, there must also come great responsibility.” Marisol replied seriously as Y/n nodded slowly, understanding her words. 

“Yeah, I know,” She said softly as she watched Marisol get up slowly. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here. We need to check on the  Reyes” Marisol said as she got up slowly. As Marisol got up she noticed the blood on her hands, she felt her body falling to the ground. Y/n quickly leans over her inspecting her body. 

“What happened? Are you okay” Y/n replied, inspecting her body all over. She knew something bad was going to happen. 

“I’m okay” Marisol replied softly trying not to worry, Y/n. Marisol closed her eyes for a few minutes before fluttering them open to look at her niece. 

“Yeah, you’re okay. What happened, Aunt Marisol?” Y/n replied  as she slowly inspected her, not wanting her to panic. 

“Just have to catch.. Just need to… catch my breath.”  Marisol replied, taking deep breaths. As she closed her eyes. 

“Okay, well catch your breath. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We are going to take our time, you catch your breath, and then we’ll take you to a doctor okay” Y/n said as her eyes dropped noticing Marisol's side. She slowly touches it, noticing her hands covered in blood making her heart stop

“Are you okay, mi niña?” Marisol replied softly, rubbing her cheek. Y/n starts yelling loudly for help desperately. 

“Somebody help!  I need an ambulance, please! Someone help me. Please” She replied resting her hand on top of mays looking around for help. 

“What happened?” Marisol replied, already losing consciousness of what was happening. Y/n looked at her with teary eyes.She quickly rubs her tears away and looks at her. 

“Nothing happened. You’re okay..You're okay aunt Marisol” Y/n replied trying to  convince Marisol and herself. 

“I just need to catch my breath. I need a minute” May said as she closed her eyes this time longer than the last. Y/n watched quietly not wanting to let her go. 

“I’m right here. I’m right here, Aunt Marisol…We are okay, it’s just you and me.It’s always been you and me” She whispered, holding onto her hand. Y/n how Marisol smiled softly but her face fell when she noticed her hand let go of her cheek. 

“Marisol? Marisol? Will you look at me? Marisol. Please Marisol…Marisol, please wake up and talk to me! Please” Y/n said as she shook her softly every word becoming louder than the next. Her cries became sobs as she tried to get Marisol pulse. Y/n broke down falling on top of her crying into her chest. She could hear from a few blocks away the sirens coming their way. Before she could even have another minute to mourn she heard Karen speak. 

Miss L/n, I know this is hard but it’s time to go. They can’t catch you here, I already called for backup. 

Y/n let out a sigh as she cleaned her tears turning her back on Marisol not wanting to cry here, it wasn’t the time. Right now she wasn’t Y/n she was Spiderman and Spider had always agreed with the police that “he’ would leave before they got there and this sadly couldn’t be the exception. She felt herself push her body to move to  swing her body building to building. 

With great power comes great responsibility,even leaving loved ones behind. 

part 3

[MASTERLIST]

[days-until-burnout]

Day 119 -

Characters - Etho/Joel Words - 915 Time - 30 mins Content - College AU | Meet-cute

Etho stands in front of the glass display; the baked goods all displayed in front of him with a couple sandwiches on the side. His eyes gloss over the slices and the cakes, over the muffins and cupcakes and scones, chocolate pastries and fruity ones and custard. The options overwhelm him, knowing he could also get bread from another display and the shelves, and if he wants, he could get a coffee or a tea or some other drink. 

His hand tightens on the strap of his bag. The sweat makes it slippery, and a knot finds its way stuck on his throat. He vaguely hears buzzing and muffled conversations around him, other customers making their orders easily. 

His dry lips grate against his mask, suddenly thirsty and no longer hungry. He thinks about the water bottle on his bag, he thinks about his next two classes then home time where he can eat in peace. Idly, he considers an overpriced item from the vending machines. 

Someone bumps into his side and he steps back, startled and jumpy. 

“Oh, sorry,” the other says, sparing a glance before looking at the display.

Etho’s eyes shift from the countless options, suddenly too sweet for his taste, and focuses on the silhouette of the stranger one step in front of him. Unruly browns cascading into a pastel yellow hoodie, a black bag on his back. He can see a tad of his profile, lit up gently by the glow of the display and all the lights around them. 

The stranger bends down closer to the display, tilting his head slightly as his hands land on his knees for support. 

Someone grazes his shoulder on their way out, prompting Etho to make up his mind and leave. He squeezes his bag strap one more time, sucking in a breath, ready to spin on his heels. 

But a voice halts him. 

“Hey, you know Grian, right?” 

Etho blinks, refocusing on the stranger. His heart stops when he finds him staring, curious eyes looking back at him. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out, his mind mesmerized with the curvature of his lips rather than the social construct of proper social interaction. 

“Are you leaving? Can you buy me lunch? I’m Joel, you know Grian.” Joel says nonchalantly, straightening and stepping out of the way. Closer to Etho, so close he could possibly hear his thundering heart, which Etho hopes is not possible. “I’ll give him the money later and he can give it to you.”

Once again, Etho tries to speak but no sound comes out. Instead, more conversations surround them, other students talking about classes and the time and what they will do after. Someone mentions work, someone mentions a dog. But Joel stares at him expectantly, blinking those brown eyes with that pretty smile. 

“Come on,” Joel urges, taking a step closer which makes Etho tense up, “you can trust me. You don’t trust me? We both know Grian. Plus, if you don’t help me, I won’t get to try that chicken sandwich I’ve been wanting to try.”

Stupidly, probably, Etho’s hand falls into his pocket, fishing out his phone. In the back of it, his card sticks out. Joel beams when he notices, and Etho’s world stops when Joel is not looking. 

“Two things,” Joel says, showing two fingers. Etho nods, just the smallest head movement. “Thanks!”

Finally, they line up, side by side. Joel bumps into his arm when he moves out of the way for someone, and stays close as another group exits. Etho fixates on the menu in the back, tracing the shapes of the words but unable to actually read them. In his pocket, his thumb glides on the edge of his card, back and forth as his mind continues to buffer. 

“I’ll have a chicken sandwich and a flan,” Joel says when he reaches the front of the line, a confidence so sturdy Etho looks at him in awe. Joel smiles as the cashier inputs the order, then both look at Etho for his turn. 

“Anything for you?”

Etho wants to deny, just pay for Joel and leave. He even considers letting this be a lesson, but the head shake never comes, yet his words do. 

“Uh, can I, uh, can I get a ham and cheese toastie?”

“Sure. Cheese and ham toastie. Will that be all?”

Etho nods. Etho pays. And they step out of the way. 

Joel eyes him and he pretends to not notice, pulling out his phone as an excuse. Joel looks at him a moment longer before going on his phone too, easily typing on it like nothing. 

His thumb hovers on the screen as Joel becomes his world. Nothing matters but him, and he barely even knows him. In the back of his mind, the name rings a bell but nothing concrete. Now, he can put a face to a name, make a connection from his friends to Grian to Joel. 

Since their circle of friends overlap, maybe they will hang out another time. 

Etho wants that. Oddly enough. 

And when Joel looks at him, he is the prettiest boy he has ever laid eyes on. He traces the smile on his lips, catches the lines of his smile on his eyes, caught by the twinkle in them. Joel quirks an eyebrow, curious. 

“Do I have something on my face?”

Etho closes his mouth, only shrugs before looking away. 

Joel laughs quietly beside him. 

_____

[click for a random day]

im back. i swear. maybe. hope yall had a good break and a decent start to the year. stay safe out there

[mal-urameshi]

I want some more step dad attuma for mama okoye and daughter riri 😭😭 maybe even baby riri !!!!!!!!

Chronicles of Mama Okoye and Riri! XII

Yuum Attuma!

Even though in the past Riri had tried to set her mother up with someone, albeit unsuccessfully, she never really thought of how another addition to the household would affect her. It had been just the two of them her entire life. Mama and Intombi.

And given that her mother always had an aversion to getting into relationships, she never dwelled on the possibility.

Until now. Riri couldn't complain though. Attuma treated her mother really well and she couldn't help but enjoy the big blue guy's company as well.

Attuma was currently at their house and her Mom couldn't stay off of his lap. Every time Okoye had to go check on something in the kitchen, she hopped off his lap, did what she had to do and then found her place nestled against Attuma's chest once more. They were cuddled up on the couch as they were watching one of the local TV stations after Riri insisted her mother stop being such a busy body and stay cuddled up to her mans.

Riri walked out the kitchen with a tray of Koeksisters her mother had promised Attuma she'd make for him to try. She carefully set down a tray of the golden-brown plaited dough and her mother quickly plated one of the pastries after dunking it into the dip.

"Here Attuma, try this." Okoye offered as she placed it near his mouth to feed him.

Attuma carefully removed his rebreather and opened his mouth to be fed by his woman. He took a big munch out of it and closed his eyes with a grunt in appreciation of the flavour.

"It is sweet like you, In yakunaj." Attuma complimented before biting the rest off of Okoye's hand, licking her fingers in the process.

Riri grinned as she cracked open a can of Coca-Cola before handing it to Attuma, "You ain't never had none of this before, right? Why don't you try it?"

Attuma accepted the drink from Riri and scrutinized the red aluminum, "What is this called?"

"Coca-Cola: it's a brand of soda. It's like water...you drink water right? Breathe it? Huh." Riri rubbed her chin, "It's not like we eat air, so it's not like it'll translate the same for you since water is your air. You know....diffusion and all."

Attuma stared at Riri as she rambled before she loudly clapped, "Ah ha! It's like the juice from the fruits you eat but it's in a can! Boom!"

Attuma dripped some of the liquid into his palm to inspect its colour, "This is black, like the oil that pollutes the oceans."

Riri waved him off, "Well that ain't oil. C'mon! Just drink it already so I can see how you like it."

Attuma looked at the can again before taking a gulp of it, but the immediate burning sensation in his throat had him coughing and sputtering, which made RIri double over with laughter.

"It burns like acid!" Attuma smacked his chest to try to alleviate the sting.

Riri pulled up a chart on her Kimoyo beads and adjusted the data, so you like Arizona, think Perrier is absolutely disgusting, Chocolate milk made you get diarhhea..."

Attuma stomped his foot down, "No, it was clearly poisoning. A child's drink can never affect me in such a way."

Riri side eyed him before laughing as she finished inputting her data, "Suuuure big guy."

Okoye clicked her tongue as she caressed Attuma's cheek, making him face her again before she pressed a loving kiss to his lips. "Don't terrorize him like that, Riri. I don't want him going belly up in the river should he try to return home."

Attuma scoffed and haughtily puffed his chest out, "I have faced almost every danger the deepest bowels of the ocean has to offer. Land-dwellers' food shall never do me over."

"Attuma, how are you with spicy food?"

"Riri!"

"He likes a challenge, Ma! Let me give the man what he wants! You agree, right 'Tuma?" She held out her fist.

"I am no 'Pussy' as Riri says." Attuma fist bumped her before transitioning into the handshake she taught him.

"That's what I'm talkin' bout!"

Okoye rolled her eyes before playfully glaring at Attuma, "Don't come whining to me when you have bellyaches."

Attuma pressed a kiss to Okoye's lips, "I would never succumb to such a thing. But should a fate like that befall me, I trust that you won't allow me to suffer."

Okoye blushed and hid her face in Attuma's neck.

"Ohhh, Mom you folded so hard!" Riri taunted while Attuma peppered kisses to her neck.

Riri trailed behind her mother and Attuma as they walked hand in hand. Riri set her kimoyo beads to start recording as she cleared her throat, "As you can see, I am third wheeling on a date under the guise of a 'family' outing. I'm being left out while these two love birds can't stop making googly eyes at each other." Riri dramatically sighed as she flipped the camera to her face. She pressed the back of her palm to her forehead and sighed again, "Woe is me, having to witness my mother's escapades- AHH!"

Riri was swiftly hoisted off the ground and seated onto the crook of Attuma's arm. Riri had wrapped her arm around his neck for extra stability.

"Nobody is being left out on my watch." Attuma loudly proclaimed.

Riri giggled and flashed her kimoyo beads on Attuma, who gave the bead a wink, as they continued walking, "As you can see, my Mama's boyfriend is an amazing family man. Out here making me feel included and shit!" She pressed a kiss to Attuma's cheek as he kept her in his grip while he simultaneously had his free arm wrapped around Okoye's waist.

Riri flashed her beads over her mother, Attuma and then herself, "Don't mind us, just a regular shmegular family having a nice family outing."

Okoye hugged Attuma tighter as they walked while she observed her daughter telling Attuma a joke to which he let out a gutteral laugh.

"Bruh! You fake as hell! Laughing at the chicken going to the other side?"

"I am genuine! Those feathered things walking when they have wings? It sounds idiotic." His chest vibrated as he laughed again.

Riri rolled his eyes, "Man, you mad corny."

"My two favourite people getting along." She rubbed Attuma's arm affectionately where he gently squeezed her side in return.

When Attuma found out that Riri often sparred with her mother, he excitedly queried Okoye if Riri would be be interested .

"Do you think Riri would like to spar with me? She usually makes technology, I never guessed that she fought in the same style as you." He held Okoye's hand firmly as he was practically buzzing with excitement.

Okoye smiled and softly nodded her head, "Riri wouldn't mind, I'm sure she would be glad that you have an interest in bonding with her in that way. "

Attuma scooted closer to Okoye on the couch, "How did she start off training?"

Okoye crossed her legs, "Hm. She was about four years old. I was a Dora for quite a while and had seen a lot of things in my profession. Children being abused. Sex trafficking. And so, so much more. I didn't want that for my baby. Bast forbid." Okoye took a calming breath, "I know that she'd always be safe in Wakanda, but you never know and I like to be prepared. I may not always be around to protect her forever, so I figured I could train her from young to be able to defend herself."

Attuma slowly nodded along as Okoye explained herself. He loved that way of thinking, "Warrior offspring is only natural when you are one."

Okoye chuckled and patted her hands, "Not a warrior, necessarily. Only if push came to shove. I never expected her to follow in my footsteps to be a Dora Milaje. I always allowed her to do her own thing, whatever her calling may be. And it so happened to be engineering."

"And how did she first react to you deciding to train her?"

Okoye chuckled, "She was very excited. She swung around the wooden spear like a sword at first, mimicking one of her cartoons, then immediately challenged me to a duel to the death."

"Ah, so she's always had a valiant spirit."

Atttuma closed his eyes as he envisioned Riri's fighing style, "Does she fight like you?"

Okoye took a deep breath, "You should find out for yourself, darling."

And find out Attuma did.

"You ain't all that, Big Blue!" Riri circled the Talokanil General with her spear in attack mode, "You gon' be fish fry when I'm done with you."

Attuma chuckled, this was not what he was expecting, "You definitely speak more than your mother."

"Oh, what? You saying I'm not about that action?" Riri charged but tripped over nothing, falling in front of Attuma with a groan.

Attuma, caught off guard by the display of clumsiness didn't react fast enough to Riri's foot hitting him square between his legs. The attack swiftly brought him to his knees before Riri stuck her fingers between his gills which caused him to yelp in pain.

He cupped the offended area while wincing, "You cheater..!"

Riri smirked and crossed her arms, "Man you're just a sore loser. You call it cheating and I call it strategy."

Attuma turned to Okoye who was sitting on the porch and pointed at Riri petulantly, "Dishonor!"

"Nah! Nah! You just hating, man! Anything goes in battle!" Riri grinned as she braced herself on her spear while Attuma found the strength to right himself.

"Not only are you large and powerful, you're super fast too. A triple threat! So I had to catch you off guard to end things quickly. You lucky this ain't for real. You woulda been toe-tagged already."

Attuma walked over to Okoye and plopped down beside her, sulking.

Okoye harumphed, "No no. Don't do that. You're the one that wanted to spar with her. She gets very creative when she wants to win. You brought this upon yourself."

"I didn't even get to trade blows."

Riri raised an eyebrow from where she was standing, "I never said I was done. You're the one that ran to Mama to lick your wounds. She can't save you! Let's go!" She picked up her spear and twirled it. "Unless you're scared."

Attuma silently stood again, "This time I shall show you no mercy, Shrimp."

"Bring it, A'Tuna!"

Attuma squatted next to Riri as she messed around with her latest suit, which she dubbed the Mach 5. Attuma quietly observed as she tinkered with the suit's legs, "Pass me the pliers, please."

Thanks to spending time with Riri, Attuma had learned quite a bit about the tools the land-dwellers use.

Riri gestured for Attuma to come closer to her as she pointed at the sole of the Suit's feet, "See, I've applied a graphene-infused composite matrix to reinforce the exhaust drive's structural integrity, enhancing its thrust capacity while minimizing energy dispersion."

Attuma nodded along, "I see."

"Additionally, I've fine-tuned the plasma ionization frequency to maximize propulsion efficiency, optimizing the balance between power output and thermal dissipation."

Attuma strokes his chin at the explanation, "How does the incorporation of the composite matrix contribute to the reinforcement and improved performance?"

Riri's eyes lit up, "I'm glad you asked! Basically it makes it more resistant to stress and impact. It improves the thrust capacity of the boots, allowing greater propulsion while minimizing energy dispersion, resulting in more efficient and controlled movement. Because trust me. You're gonna be flying into walls if shit ain't in order."

Attuma nodded again, "Soar high, Plankton."

Riri patted his shoulder, "Thanks, A'Tuna."

Riri covered her face as Okoye and Attuma were quite literally trying to eat each other's face off not even five feet away from her. She didn't expect to walk in on her mother straddling Attuma while he was palming her ass.

"Bast, can't you guys get a room? You're like horny teens. Is this how you felt with me and Shuri, Mama?" Riri couldn't help but laugh.

Okoye huffed and made a shooing gesture to Riri, "I thought you and Shuri were going out?"

"Oh, oh! Man, I didn't mean to cockblock. I ain't wanna ruin the mood. I just came to get something." She gestured to her bedroom.

Okoye whispered something into Attuma's ear and he quickly stood up, swiftly making his way to Okoye's bedroom.

Riri sighed as the door was practically slammed behind them, "Ah, young love." She wiped a fake tear before going to get what she came for.

"I'm telling you, Shuri! I never thought I'd have lived to see the day where I'd hear my mother have sex! That's trippy as fuck. I never wanna hear that shit again."

Shuri pressed a reassuring hand on her stomach, "You're getting normal child experiences. Welcome to the club."

Riri laughed, "Nah, that shit ain't normal man! I don't need to hear that."

She slowly blinked her eyes as she looked at the drifting clouds from her resting place on Shuri's lap, "But I'm really happy for her, you know? Attuma treats her really well. And even though he ain't my Dad or nuthin', he treats me like I'm his kid. And I really like that. It's comforting."

Shuri hummed while looking at Riri, "Well, if things keep going at the rate they are, you might have a little sibling." She teased.

"Ha, who knows. Maybe." She grunted while getting more comfortable on Shuri's lap.

Over a year into Okoye and Attuma's relationship had passed and he had popped the question during a quiet picnic with the Mother and Daughter.

Riri's jaw hung open as her mother had nodded as tears danced in her eyes. She looked on as they both had hugged each other and shared a kiss.

Riri pulled her knees to her chest as she looked at the exchange, making sure her beads were still recording.

It was sweet and she was happy for her mother. She found love and she's going to spend the rest of her life with a man who adored her more than there were grains of sand on the beds of seas and shores of beaches alike.

Riri swiftly wiped a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek.

Attuma then turned to Riri and closed the distance between them, "Because I'm marrying your mother, I now have an official duty to uphold to you. I love you just as much as I love your mother. And I am very happy that I had the honor of getting to know you, Riri. I'm grateful to you for allowing me to be in your mother's life as well as getting to know you on a personal level as well."

Riri sniffled and pinched her her arm as Attuma continued, "I see you as my own child and I care for you as such."

Attuma looked over at Okoye for reassurance and she gently nodded.

"In my culture, one refers to their father as Yuum."

Attuma held out an open palm to Riri, "I know that I'm not your real father, but if you are comfortable, you can call me Yuum." He glanced at Okoye again before making eye contact with Riri again, "I'd like it if you called me that."

Riri's eyes prickled all over again, she licked the corner of her mouth as she looked at his open palm and then at him. He really wanted her to call him Baba? Dad? Was this real life right now?

"Are you sure, Attuma?"

Attuma nodded, "Yes, I'm sure, Riri."

Riri threw herself at Attuma and crushed him into a hug, "Yea, I'd like that...Yuum."

Attuma grinned as he returned Riri's hug and pressed a kiss to the side of her head, "I'll do my best to make you and your mother happy."

Riri chuckled and squeezed her arms tighter around his neck,"You already make us happy."

Okoye held her heart to her chest as she watched the interaction between her two loves, "Bast, the both of you are so precious. I'm so happy to have you both in my life."

Attuma dragged Okoye into the hug with the two of them before he dropped backward onto the blanket, puling them down with him, which caused mother and daughter to laugh.

"To the first day of forever." Riri mumbled.

"To the first day of forever." Okoye repeated.

"And many lifetimes after that," Attuma concluded.

A/N: Hm. Dunno how to feel about this, but Attoye n Baby Riri compels me now, haha.

Taggies: @somethingcleaverandwhitty @karimwillia @neptoons1998 @pantherheart

[psychewritesbs]

Hello there!

I've been giving a little stalk through your blog and I love your posts and insights, thank you for sharing them!

Now for what I came here to say - I've read @littleholmes post on RCT and reincarnation on ch 239 and your addition to it and I wanted to give some input (albeit a bit of in a different direction) as well since I've been thinking about that topic too, if that's alright!

I was like, 100% sure Gege had disposed of Gojo for real up until he deliberately chose to make reference again to the fact that to kill a RCT user you have to go for the head. Honestly, Gege has shown us so many time that we cannot dismiss any small dialogue line in his manga because the story will always make a way to circle all the way back to it that I believe he did not just randomly drop that line there.

SO, assuming Gege did not drop that line randomly nor is baiting us into thinking that, I got myself thinking about possible ways Gojo could make a comeback and the way I see it, I think the most likely way for him to manage to survive would be through RCT usage and eventually later with Shoko and/or Yuta's intervention to fully heal; what I think is something that we must consider as littleholmes said in the original post, is that Gojo's brain is most likely as good as fried after shinjuku showdown, so i think the chances are 1) Gojo isn't able to use RCT at all anymore and is effectively dead, or 2) he still manages to use RCT but has taken so much damage to his brain that he can't use his technique anymore.

Now for character development - I think Gojo's personal identity remains in close contact with his identity as "the strongest". I think Geto underlined that when they broke up at KFC parted ways with each other, and even though I don't think Gojo truly felt like that up until that moment since he still had Geto by his side and to him, they were the strongest, I do think it ended up becoming such a "dominant" self-perception of his that probably blinded everything else about his person and made him almost involuntarily isolate from everyone.

So to say, Gojo's identity as the strongest was what shackled him.

I wonder if it would be possible for Gojo, 29, fed a self-image of something close to godhood ever since a child, to ever part ways with that perception (and what comes with it) while mantaining his technique and remaining... well, the strongest..

I'm beating around the bush but where I wanted to reach was: I think it would be curious to see Gojo as a jujutsu-less leader. For someone like him to whose self-identity was always blurred with status, wouldn't it be freeing to "go north" as a new person, as someone who has more to offer than brute power, who can guide his students from a place of understanding, and be influencial despite lack of jujutsu (which ig would be possible since HQ was masacred)?

Okay, that's it, sorry for the english, for the messy thoughts and for barging in; I just wanted to read your thoughts on this perspective! Have a nice week :)

You: sorry for my English Also you: eloquently speaks in English better than many native English speakers, including myself 🤡😂

Omg anon, you're getting bumped up on the ask queue because this is relevant to this last chapter. Thanks so much for sharing the thoughts! This is good stuff.

I'm not going to lie, I am on camp "he's ded 💀", but all of these arguments in favor of him being alive are good stuff. Gege is so unpredictable that he might just bring him back from the dead all JC style SCREAMING IN SYMBOLISM NERD.

The thing is that ego death is metaphorical, right? And ego death is a prerequisite for the kind of growth you describe for a character that created a metaphorical barrier around himself with a self-ascribed identity as the strongest.

I've gone on the record ok like who's keeping the record lol that Gojo needed to die because I truly believe that, as the pinnacle of the very thing he sought to bring down, he simply needed to die. But after this conversation and littleholme's post, I like the more nuanced approach that, yeah, that attitude he held needed to die AND be reborn into something else.

Whether he can come back from said "death" or not is still up in the air. Everything is fair game at this point with jjk!

Thanks for reaching out, the comments, but above all, sharing your thoughts!

[fr0gstore]

Unconventional Game Design

Conventions are neither good nor bad. But when we bring conventions into the games we’re building without fully understanding the innerworkings of these clusters of ideas, we are effectively giving up on that whole portion of our own creation. We’re implicitly deciding, often without even realizing it, that there is nothing worth questioning inside this whole space within our game which the convention takes up.

To give an example of what I mean by “convention”, let’s look at a standard first person character controller. The conventional way of allowing the player to move around from a first person perspective is to have 2 axes of movement input — forward/back & left/right — and 2 axes of camera input - pitch & yaw. When a movement input is given, the player character will accelerate at some rate towards a maximum speed. This acceleration can be fast — reaching top speed quickly, which gives the player movement a snappy feel — or slow — giving the player a more floaty feeling as changing your movement vector is sluggish. Then we have the 2 axes of camera rotation. The camera is locked to the player character and rotates around this point, usually being able to rotate infinitely in yaw, but being locked to only 180° in pitch, so you cannot look beyond straight up or straight down. There are many ways to adjust these properties to give your game various different feelings in combination, but all the same, these are mere turns of the dials and ultimately all come from the same base system.

Some other properties of this convention are:

Step-up — which causes the player to automatically step up onto a bump in the level as long as the bump is shorter than some threshold.

Slope-bias — which is a maximum slope angle which the player is able to walk up. No matter what, any surface steeper than this value is not traversable, and the switch between these states is binary.

Jumping — which shoots the player upwards at some velocity.

Crouching — which decreases the players height and walk speed.

A high percentage of all first person games ever released follow this convention closely, and if they depart from it at any point it is usually in minor ways. Again, this is not necessarily bad. But when designing our own games, questioning convention is vital to exploring the system we’re building.

In an ideal world, with infinite time to design and perfect our game, we would use no conventions at all. We would meticulously decide every single piece which does or doesn’t belong in our game, considering all possibilities and weighing the tradeoffs of each. But we don’t have so much time, and our minds aren’t that analytical anyways. So then, using conventions in moderation can be acceptable, as long as you understand the properties that make up a convention, you’re sure those properties serve your game idea well and you are careful not to leap to conclusions or avoid answering hard questions.

“I’m making an RTS.”

What the fuck is an RTS?? I mean really, what are you talking about? You can do anything you want in the whole world, and what you want is to remake starcraft? Okay fine, you’re not making a clone, I get it. But you’re making a genre, for some reason, instead of making a video game. What about “RTS” do you actually like? Do you want to command a massive army? Do you want to manage the logistics of a war-time civilization? Do you want to outwit your opponents through superior tactics and strategy? Because none of those things require you to drag a box to select units and right click to make them move to a position. Why not start from the beginning and actually explore what YOU want, instead of starting out with a massively complex template? Then you can have a game that’s just for you, that you enjoy and that you personally built all on your own. And more than likely, other people will like it too, because we’re all desperate for fresh gaming experiences. People want so badly to play new games. Not old games with new graphics or minor tweaks to stale formulas. Even if your new game is a bit lop-sided, because making new things is hard, people will probably enjoy it and deeply appreciate that you gave them something they’ve never played before. If you really work hard to discover something new, you may even invent a genre yourself.

[writingjoycebyers]

One topic I'd like to read more are two: Hop jealous but tries hard to deny it, but badly. And a confrontation between Hop and Lonnie. Because it is right that he is punished by our sheriff!

Okay, I’m back. Please leave some love! I need motivation, input, random chats, whatever.. I mean, just in case anyone is still following my page and writing. I haven’t written in so long! Also sorry - I’m out of writing practice! Currently rewatching stranger things!

This is the second part to this pregnancy ficlet here!

The light at Melvald‘s general store is bright, too bright, stinging. Joyce hasn‘t felt like herself for the past few weeks, the feeling of joy and curiosity, the little secret inside of her - it has all turned into some kind of nervous anxiety about what the future holds. She stands in front of a shelf packed with baby supplies, a million kinds of pacifiers staring at her as her thoughts wander off. Will she be able to do this?

„Come here, babe!“, a voice yells through the store and that’s it - she‘s back to reality, back from her inside to the outside world, a world full of bright neon lights, grocieries and the rough voice of a man.

„What is it?“ she asks as she crosses the aisles to meet the man, dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket, his hair greasy and his shoes dirty.

„Can you carry this?“, he asks as he looks down on her. He‘s not tall for a man, but she‘s small and has not been eating well or been able to keep in any decent food those past four and a half months. In fact, she‘s skinnier than ever - except for her belly that keeps growing, a vicious circle. In the beginning, when it had just been between herself and the little creature inside of her, it had felt powerful, but now she often found herself thinking that it was taking something away from her, energy, sleep, weight, her whole fucking self.

„Uhm, yeah.“, she says and is not even sure if she‘s able to as the man is handing her a sixpack of beer.

„I don‘t think she should, Byers.“, says another, much darker voice from the other end of the aisle. The store is not even empty, there are a few customers walking around and still she immediately sees him, turns her head around before Lonnie Byers can push the sixpack into her arms. He knows.

Well, she thinks, of course he knows. For a second her thoughts trail off to that one moment last month when she bumped into him in front of the store they were just standing in. Joyce feels a strange kind of nausea creeping up on her and she cannot really tell the reason - her sudden disgust for Lonnie Byers, the presence of Jim Hopper or the baby inside of her.

„Don‘t think that‘s any of your business, Hopper.“, Lonnie snaps, his voice low as Jim Hopper walks over to them. Jim is much taller than Lonnie, wearing jeans and a white shirt and Joyce can even see his muscles underneath. Suddenly, she feels safe because she knows that Lonnie‘s aggression is bubbling up but here, in public, in front of Jim Hopper he‘d never dare to fight because he knows all too well that he‘s got no chance, no chance against a man so much taller, a man with true self confidence. Lonnie was a different kind of man, out of control on the inside and put together in public, at least enough to keep some kind of normal appearences.

„Carry it yourself or put it away, Byers.“, Hopper says and he has not yet taken a single look at Joyce. It makes her even more nervous as she starts to feel like a bystander, a bystander in her own life. Joyce can‘t know it‘s not because he does not want to, does not know that he‘d love to look at her in all ways possible, but that he just can‘t because he would not bear to really see her again, so small and beautiful, carrying the traces of another life under her shirt. Summer was slowly beginning and by now, it was too warm for sweaters, pullovers or jackets, so Joyce was wearing a plain blue shirt and damn, she really could not hide it anymore. She could not hide it and he could not stand that.

Moments pass as the three of them just stand there, Jim staring at Lonnie, Lonnie staring at Jim and Joyce staring at the two of them. Then suddenly, Lonnie breaks the silence. „Alright, Sheriff.“, he whispers ironically, a scoff in his voice as he moves and walks past Jim. Joyce still stands there, it takes her a few seconds to react. „Bye, Jim. Gotta go.“, she whispers, raises her head and looks him in the eyes for less than a second.

„See you.“, he answers as she walks down the aisle, steps behind Lonnie. He can‘t stand it.

[starlightiing]

I love love inception so your au is *delicious* Pierre as point man and Este as forger is interesting! I see your reasoning.. I thought the opposite since Este feels more straight and narrow and Pierre more flashy but it's fun to imagine them newly

also a job gone wrong that sends them on the run is SUCH a fun idea, I can imagine the tension catching up to them 👀 and well if their communication skills are lacking then they must relieve the tension some other way

Hey, that's the fun with interpretation of character! I didn't even really consider the 'flashy' aspect of Eames hahaha I was more focused on is overall silliness and aloof behavior - in which case, yes, the flashy part of Eames would be a lot like Pierre, wouldn't it? Listen, nothing is set in stone with my AUs, EVER. I love to hear these things, especially if they're contradictory to what I've already discussed, opposing opinions and all that - it helps me open my eyes and brain a bit more when putting these things together. I love that input, thank you! Feel free to share more if you want/have anything else!

GOD I wrote this Arthur/Eames fic once where they were both continuously on the run (not with each other, separately) but somehow they always kept bumping into one another - once in France, once in Germany, even once in the US - and they would call each other from burner phones to meet up and just have sex. And then the next day they'd be up and immediately on the run again.

In the end, they finally had a bit of very choppy very awkward communication, and they were able to develop things into more than just sex - but it was a lot of fun. That is sort of the vibe I'm getting here. Of course, I don't write smut so the sex was only ever alleged LOL but. All the same.

If they were in a job together that went poorly and the company wanted them dead, they'd have no choice but to run TOGETHER. And try their best to work together to get out of the predicament. I would think if they were working in France when younger, they'd have to make their way out as fast as possible and get into another country (undetermined as of yet) with fake names, fake IDs, fake everything, not to be caught.

I could see Pierre having some contacts to help in that area. But getting out of France is the hard part, because now they're VERY wanted not just by their company, but by the country as well because HELLO VERY ILLEGAL ACTIVITIES so like legit everyone is after them, looking for them, very high stress.

That would be a lot of fun, actually. And I kind of like it being the thing that actually drives them apart? You'd think it would grow them closer together but by the end of it they've just had a lot of sex and a lot of aggravation and they just kinda go separate ways after.

Though, funny enough, both of them know where the other is at the drop of a hat, at any given moment.

"We need a point man as good as Pierre/Esteban (depending on who is picked in the final draft)"

The other: Oh, he's in Barcelona right now.

You have my brain working in the opposite direction now with Forger!Pierre and Pointman!Esteban....hm hm hm....

Thank you for this brain food anon. Also, fellow inception lover lets fucking GOOOO I'm probably going to watch the movie today now LMAO it's like my favorite.

[localwebslingers]

The door kept him from smelling Peter, from smelling everyone more than likely and he was sure that was part of why people had to stay out. To limit that sense's input, to not have anyone who was nervous or uneasy walk in acting calm and their scent immediately betraying them, "But beyond that, there's nothing else." he finished, he guessed, "...because there can't be right now...right?" because Harry was still regaining his footing. Because he was trying, and fighting to keep himself from lashing out or doing anything he would regret later and Peter could see it written all over his posture sitting there on the other side of the glass. There wasn't a lot Peter could do to help with that, maybe even nothing at all he could do.

But, he could still treat Harry like he was a person, and stay with him through it. It had been enough before, it had to count for something now.

He was quiet at the question and the answer felt obvious, to him it was, and it was simple, "Then I'll take my hand back." Peter told him, nodding to the door slightly, "I'll take my hand back, and I can take it back, and I'll shut the door, and then I'm going to try and help talk you back down...if you'll let me." from the other side of the glass, where he already was. where he needed to be. Not just because it kept him from being lashed out at, not because it was where he wanted to be, but because it was where Harry needed him to be right now. Reaching a hand out to him was going to be the best Peter could do, probably for some time. It could be a matter of days, it could be months, Peter didn't really know. It was worth taking the chance for.

Harry was worth taking the chance for.

For a few more moments, Peter didn't move, waiting for Harry to change his mind, or say no, or give any sign that he needed to stay put instead. Slowly, he got up front he chair and moved in front of the door, before sitting down on the floor just to the side of it. Sitting, not standing, where hopefully he seemed less like a possible threat and also less like something to be attacked. Something neutral, non dangerous and unafraid. Again he waited, a few beats to see where Harry was with it. If there was a change, if he looked like he wanted to argue against it, or stop it, anything. Peter reached up for the door handle from his new spot and turned it, not opening it just yet, speaking softly first, "Harry, if I open this and reach in, and you can't or don't want to come over, all you have to do is say so. You tell me it's too much, and I close the door again, and that's it. We can try this again some other time when you say you want to....okay?"

Peter was quiet and then very softly pulled the door open. Making sure the movements weren't hurried, that they were clear to see, and let the door bump against his knee. Giving him just enough space to reach his hand and part of his arm into the room, stopping just before his elbow and holding his hand out to Harry in offering. He wasn't going any further than that, and he waited.

|| @inhcritance ||

As many days as it took, and there was a part of Harry that wanted to cling to that and believe it, and let himself have the hope that maybe it could be right. The rest of him, however, was a cynic, and it ached that he didn't know why, if he'd been burned and/or how, and in which ways he could hope to protect himself.

He didn't think it had been Peter. Not with the way he felt himself trust, and even in his despair and frustration and that broken mask, he tried to listen, hard as he found it. And then there came the question: why did he remain there? And Harry's smile was wry, but he did not interrupt, because he felt too tired, to restless, too focused on keeping his feelings in whatever way he could call 'in check' lest he lost it, because even now it was hard to admit that he remained there because he feared he would harm someone, and not just a bit, if he lost control. Because a living person there meant that his senses wanted to harm and to tear apart and to destroy.

And it was driving him crazy, because all he knew was what little he could remember, and his mind was sharp enough that the awareness was like a void in his very chest.

Then, however, Peter surprised him again with an idea that should have been natural, that should have been something to look forward to: holding his hand. Nothing more, nothing less. And Harry's chuckle was wry, and reckless, and he was too tired to argue exactly why it was a terrible idea.

"The door is keeping me from smelling you." He said instead. It felt like an admission of how inhuman he was now. "I can hear you and I can see you just fine, but beyond that..."

He ached for the touch of someone's hand, for something close to support. He'd still never forgive himself if he hurt Peter.

"What will you do," he asked in the end, "if I cannot keep myself in check?"

He needed to know he could defend himself. He needed to know this was not just foolishness, when he could see no tension but he didn't have his sense of smell to corroborate it.

It was still not a 'no'.

@localwebslingers

[njpuckbunny]

Heyy! Could you please do some friends to lovers (smut) with Kirk? Like, mutual pinning but they’re both idiots so the band helps them get together (sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language)

Cuz That’s What Friends Do, Right?

Kirk Hammett x AFAB!Reader (y/n)

a/n: I LITERALLY LOVE U SO MUCH FOR THIS PLEASE THIS IS MY FAV REQUEST EVER. I HOPE U ENJOY IT <33

warnings: mutual pining, p in v, unprotected sex, greasy kirk era , sir kink, dominant!kirk, sub!reader, afab reader, smut, and metallica being a matchmaker

holy shit.

“I have some big news guys,” you began, ready for your band's input on this news, “we’re gonna be opening for Metallica for their new tour.”

A mix of anxious and happy remarks filled the room from the rest of your band.

Your lead guitarist replied to your information with a slightly rude comment, “is this just because you fuck around with Kirk, or did we actually earn it?”

You were seriously taken aback by her comment but replied quickly, “Me and Kirk are nothing but friends, and I'm sure he mentioned us, but we earned this spot. Pack your bags to meet at the bus station.”

Honestly, you were pretty worried about this. Being an all girl-band with yourself as the bassist and lead singer? It wouldn’t be easy to earn the public’s respect. You had been friends with Kirk ever since you stepped foot into highschool. Kirk was off to the side and calm, while you were anxious and trying to leave as soon as possible. You claim it as fate, but Kirk always said you were gonna trip in front of him anytime “cuz of his beauty.” Long story short, you were carrying your books to a new class and were looking down at your schedule when you bumped into Kirk. He helped you pick up your books and you exchanged family phone numbers. You couldn’t count the times when you told your older sister to get off of the phone trying to call her favorite rockstars phony numbers. You and Kirk called hours and hours on end and you honestly just felt like he was your better half.

So when he joined Exodus, you were more than happy to cheer him on to pursue his dreams. You both promised that whoever got more famous first, the other had to open for their band.

Right after Kirk was chosen for Metallica, you started your own band R.O.P.E. You could’ve sworn it stood for something, but you were too high to remember.

But now that you were touring with Metallica? You didn’t know if you could hide it for any longer…. yea about that. Ever since sophomore year started, you had developed a massive crush on Kirk. It wasn’t like it was obvious… was it?

Definitely not. And it didn’t matter cuz he didn’t like you back. End. Of. Story.

But tonight might change how you saw him, maybe you just see him as a friend now. Right?

WRONG

The moment you stepped onto the bus and saw his smile. Ugh, You melted. And it doesn’t mean just inside, you blushed, flushed, you could’ve sworn you developed a fever right there and melted into a puddle of nothing on the ground.

You heard whistling, and your name, and your name again,

“Hey! y/n,” it was kirk, motioning you over to the back of the bus. His leg was over an empty seat, saving it for you, just like he did on the bus home.

Yes. You guys took the same bus. Dumbass Kirk would get off at your house some days (literally everyday) and listen to cds and cassettes with you all evening because he didn’t want to go home.

Sometimes he would fall asleep with you on your bed and you’d wake up with your limbs entangled and Kirk sleeping as heavy as he could.

cuz that’s what friends do? Right?

After what felt like an hour of admiring his features, you moved your way back to the back of the bus and talked with Kirk.

You couldn’t help but notice the way your legs bounced oh so close together. You wanted your legs wrapped around his waist as he—-

“y/n?” “hello??” Kirk exclaimed as he clapped in front of your face.

“Sorry,” you sputtered, “I'm really nervous about tonight.”

He sincerely put his palm over your knee and comfortingly spoke, “you’ve got nothin’ to worry about sweetheart, you’re gonna kill it.”

You muttered a thanks and Kirk gave you a grin, god he was going to be the death of you. To combat your love for Kirk and nerves for the show, you decided to take a nap.

When you awoke, it was basically time for you and your band to get ready for the opening act. You dressed in your signature style and made sure that your instrument matched your clothes. As you turned to check if everything was in place you saw the scar that lined your bicep. When you were at highschool prom, waiting for your ride home, some jerk on the side of the road “accidentally” sliced you with a pocket knife. Just as you were about to fight back, Kirk rode up in his mom’s car and punched the guy right in the face. That was your first scar, and Kirks’ first punch. (that he gave).

In the time you were reminiscing, the time you had to check yourself was up and your band was ready to play the opening act.

As you stepped out onto the stage, you were quickly blinded by the lights and tried to blink away the blots to see the crowd. The microphone feedback whined as you approached it. You spoke loudly into it as you addressed the crowd to play your first song.

time skip to after the opening act!

You hopped off the stage and gave Kirk a pat on the back as he hugged you and told you what an amazing job you did. You thanked him and wished him is own luck before he stopped you.

“y/n I—“ but he was interrupted by the que that he should get on stage, so he just yelled as he was pushed onto the stage, “see me after the show!”

what the fuck?

And Metallica's show? Fucking Outrageous.

The way that Kirk’s fingers slid up and down on the frets as he played the solos and the way his pants rode up his form as he rutted against the guitar.

Your whole mind was flooded with unholy thoughts as the show went on.

You traveled back to the living room behind the stage as you waited for everyone to get off stage. As they piled into the room you individually congratulated all of them for the amazing performance. Until your eyes landed on Kirk….. oh fuckkkk.

You could’ve sworn that your whole body shut down right then and there. Like, how the fuck did he look so hot after playing the most tiring set??? It was seriously bothering you.

James spoke through the thick fog of tension first, “okay, Lars, Cliff, and I are gonna go wash up, see y’all later.”

You heard a click come from outside the door that was previously closed by James, accompanied with outside chuckles.

“What the fuck,” you started, “did they lock us in here?”

Kirk pulled on the door handle and pounded on the door. He nodded and scoffed to himself.

You spoke at the same time,

“Kirk—“

“Y/N—-“

You quickly apologized and let Kirk speak first.

It all came out in one fast blur from his mouth, “Y/n, before the show I wanted to tell you everything you meant to me and I didn’t think you felt like same until James locked—-“

You shut him up by pushing him up against the nearest wall and pressing your lips to his.

“Shut up—“ your remarks got cut off by Kirk picking you up and setting you down on the couch that was pressed against the furthest wall of the room.

He spoke through the silence, “tell me what you want.”

“Please touch me“

“Please what?”

“Sir.”

He nodded in agreement as his fingers trailed down your waist while he got on his knees. He pulled down your pants and threw them across the room while he took off his shirt. He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders as he looked up at you from your cunt. Agonizingly slow, he placed a finger on your clit, and inserted his tongue into you.

You whined, “kirk— please”

“shhh sweetheart i’ll take care of you.”

sweetheart.

His finger began making circles as his tongue lapped your juices. Your fingers entangled his curls as he worked you up to your climax.

“Kirk I’m gonna—-“

“No,” He pulled off of you and flipped you onto your stomach while taking off his pants and your shirt.

You pleaded again, but he spoke over, “you’ll cum when I tell you to.”

Breaking the dominance he asked you for your comfort, “Do you want this?”

You replied faster than he finished talking, “yes. sir.”

“Good.”

He inserted his cock deep into your cunt, already slick from him eating you out. His thrusts were hard and snapping onto your ass. He grabbed a fistful of your hair as your back arched upon his cock. The new angle was letting him bottom out, only making you feel higher to your climax.

You began to beg, “please sir. I wanna come , so bad. Please.”

“Okay, ready sweetheart,” Kirk answered.

You mumbled an mhm and you both let yourselves go as he fucked out his climax and his thrusts became sloppy. You both panted on the large couch you laid on, smiling at each other.

Kirk broke the silence first, “I love you, that’s what I was going to say before the show.”

He looked at you with puppy eyes and you responded, “I love you too,” as you kissed him on the lips again.

A few moments when by of you two gathering the moments happiness before you heard a knock and James speak, “It’s about time you two fucked.”

[herbgerblin]

Hi Herb!! I was wondering if you had any advice on opening commissions? I enjoy your art immensely and you were one of the first people I thought of to ask since I know you do commissions on occasion

Sorry if this is totally weird, I am just at a complete loss! Thanks for taking the time to read this!

These are things I wish I had figured out when I started selling art commissions. Also, feel free to use my current commission form to pattern your own. (also if anyone >.> wants to commission me, I am open <.<)

Step 1: Write a Terms of Service

Good terms of service will manage the expectations of your clients, establish a level of professionalism, and protect you if someone tries to argue something already made clear in writing. You can keep your ToS really simple, but it's good practice to include the following:

What kind of art you will/won't do (I don't do nfts)

Estimated duration of the project (2-4 weeks is my M.O.)

Number of revisions (more than 3, I add a fee)

When and how often you will update the client

Rights that you retain as an artist/permit to the client

Note: This mainly applies to personal/non-commercial work. If you are approached to make art for a game/magazine/website, do a ton more research. You will need to write out a contract that makes things Boringly Clear, and you will want to retain all of your rights as an artist.

Step 2: PRICES (scream)

Everyone starts out underselling. I'm underselling (I'm trying to get better.) Just go at your own pace. Look at what other artists are offering, but don't just look at the quality of their work. Think about your turnaround time, your style, and your target audience. If you are a fast worker or very detailed, that's worth a pay bump. Niche communities will pay solid money for artists to cater to them. So for example, if you draw fetish art, you have more room to charge higher.

ALWAYS GET PAYMENT UP FRONT. You can offer half upfront and half upon completion. If it's a big or long-term project, it's okay to go 30/70. BUT NEVER START WORK WITHOUT SOME SORT OF COMPENSATION. I just had a client that has not paid me the 2nd half and they are blacklisted. This rarely happens but it does happen.

Once you think you've got a price chart you feel comfortable with, add $20. Do it, even if it feels wrong. You may have to pay transaction fees, or the work (often) takes longer than expected. It'll be a small mercy to yourself to account for these things. Raise your prices a little bit each year because you are growing in experience and inflation (scream) is a thing that affects the arts too.

Step 3: INTEGRATE AND AUTOMATE

I wish I had done this step years ago, but I slacked off, and therefore staying organized was a nightmare. The less "business" stuff you have to do manually, the more time you can focus on "creative" stuff.

Make a google form. Make it as easy for the client to input information as possible. In the settings, set it so that responses will go to an excel file. The questions you ask will be the titles of the fields, so keep them short and easy to read. Reference image attachments will save to google drive.

You can set it up so that you will get an email whenever you get a new response (you might want to make a separate email account specifically for commissions.) Prewrite confirmation responses and save them as templates so that you're not writing the same email to clients over and over again.

Set reminders for responding to clients, requesting payment, and finishing work. This can be through google calender or some other app. You are responsible for facilitating communication. Even if the email is just, "Hey, just letting you know the work is still in progress, I will send you a wip in 1-2 days." Client assurance is high priority.

I use paypal invoice for payments. It means I have to pay a transaction fee, but I factor that into my prices. It also ensures that I have clear documentation for orders, I can send reminders easily if I haven't been paid, and it just looks more professional overall. You can use whatever service feels most comfortable, just make sure you practice good bookkeeping (*stares at my taxes in horror*)

Step 4: Mockups and Descriptions

Provide examples of the work that you are going to. Make a mockup of busts/half body/full body, etc. Don't include anything you don't intend to actually produce.

Make sure that your form includes room to answer EVERY question about the commission that you might have. This will reduce the amount of back and forth you need to have with your client. You want to be able to get that request, confirm it, send that invoice, and jump on it ASAP.

Step 5: Start small, be honest, be firm

If you haven't done commissions before, have a limited number of slots available. Take break time after you've finished a certain amount. Don't languish over an art piece. At some point, it will be as done as it can be. Send it to the client, and keep rolling.

If you feel like you are getting overwhelmed, tell your client. It's bad practice to go on hiatus and not notify them while they're waiting on an update. If you genuinely forget to touch base with them, do so as soon as possible. Apologize, then finish the work as soon as you can. Refund if you think that's the most polite route, but completing the task is usually more appreciated.

Be cordial, but firm. People will try to bully you over little things, but don't give in. Ignore folks who say your prices are too high. Make it clear that if they ask for more than what is agreed, you will charge a fee. If you feel like a request is sketchy, get a second opinion.

obligatory paypal link: help me pay kravitz jr's vet bills

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Faulty Sparkle (Revenant x Reader)

Theme: Season 9 of the Apex Games are imminent as the autumn comes to a close, and the events of the past couple months only begin to find any closure.

Warnings: Pain, bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, bipolar disorder, mania, depression, anxiety disorder, lewd.

Reader's Notes: I think I got my mojo back a bit. I think for a while there I forgot to write what makes sense to me and was too concerned with writing well.

Writing Notes: "Get laid, get paid, Gatorade." -Valkyrie, probably. (Also congratulations to me on learning how to spell "valkyrie".)

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"Just A Volunteer" (Book 1) | "The Lost Files" (Book 1.5) | "Of Feathers And Venom" (Book 2)

You moan as you lift your hand to rub your eyes. You wake up in your bed, alone. The light coming through the window is strong and blinding you before you even sit up to face it. You must have slept in until almost noon after falling asleep in the taxi. You don't remember getting out or coming up to the apartment, let alone getting into bed.

You hear the suspicious sound of... scissors cutting paper? It's coming from the little seating area near the foot of your bed. You want to sit up to look, but your stomach hurts from where that strange simulacrum bumped into you yesterday at the coffee shop. It's not a sharp pain; just a very blunt, mild soreness. It's enough pain to be a reminder of him, but not enough to cause alarm. At least you got free apple cider out of it.

You hear a faint mewing coming from the same direction as the sounds of the scissor blades. It must be Royce.

"Shush, you infernal marshmallow!" You hear Revenant chide in hushed tones. "If you keep smacking at the scissors I will trim your fur to look like a fancy poodle. Then no one will take you seriously ever again. You'll be the joke of all your peers." The mews continue. "Dammit, you sad excuse for a cloud! You're just like her—throwing yourself into danger and making a fuss the whole damn time."

You huff out a laugh, alerting him to your consciousness.

"Oh, and speak of the devil." He bemoans openly. "How was your eighteen-hour-long reprieve? You want to nap some more, or are you finally finished?" He sounds very exasperated.

You sit up, the light from the window blinding you as you face him. For a moment, he's just a silhouette against the brightness, but as your eyes adjust you make out his features. He's sitting on the small loveseat, cutting up what appears to be a newspaper with a pair of scissors. There's a couple of snipped out articles sitting on the table already, and even more scraps littered across the rug on the floor. Royce is sitting on the lower half of the newspaper in his lap, pawing wildly at his palms, unable to reach the scissors. Revenant takes a moment to move Royce away with his spare hand, but she quickly bounds back into his lap to demand attention. He cuts a few more snippets out, moves Royce just for her to return, he sighs in exhaustion, and he returns to cutting. This cycle repeats three times before you decide to give input.

"What are you—?"

"No." He cuts you off, turning to face you. Royce stops playing for a moment, apparently a little scared by his tone. She jumps up, latching onto his headscarf, burying herself inside to hide. "Now that you've calmed down a bit... You owe me an apology."

You freeze, your gut hurting even worse now from the dread. Before you have time to recover and speak, he continues.

"I do so much for you. I give you everything I possibly can. I save you from certain death, even if that bit was selfish of me. I put up with your little girlfriend and try to help her out. I am actively trying to avenge what happened to you. I provide water, whatever food you want, and a luxurious shelter. I literally got you a MRVN slave to take care of anything you don't want to do! I surround you with puppies and this—" He pulls Royce out of his scarf, holding her ragdolling and purring form up, presenting her for you to see, "—this defective thing! But you still do the one thing I asked you not to do! You leave! You put yourself in danger. You put everything I've done for you at risk by simply putting yourself out there for the wolves to devour. You don't even warn me! You sneak out, you don't let me know where you are. You have no idea what could have happened to you, and I need you to stop." He tucks Royce back in his scarf. She's purring so loudly. She really loves Rev. "So what am I doing wrong, little raven? Why are you acting like I've trapped you in a cage and all you want to do is fly away? Or am I right, and I've done nothing wrong, and you're just your own brand of selfish?"

You can't respond. You are scared to move. He's not gesturing aggressively, but he is clearly infuriated with you. You carefully scoot backwards, away from the foot of the bed and towards the headboard. He watches you without losing focus for a mere moment. Once you back yourself into a wall, you nab some pillows and begin to cover yourself.

"I'm sorry..." your voice quivers before you shove your face into a pillow, preventing him from seeing your tearful and mortified expression. You hear him sigh loudly and exaggeratedly.

"Ugh, the point isn't to make you cry, little skinsuit. You're supposed to apologize and explain what's going on in that skull of yours so I can make it right."  You hear him bemoan aloud. You hear him shuffle a bit, but he suddenly stops making any sounds.

You shove your face deeper into the pillow, trying not to anticipate what he might say next.

"You're not making any sense... I give you so many things... What's missing? Why won't you stay here—stay safe?" He actually sounds a little desperate. You grab a second pillow behind you and toss it in his general direction. You hear him shuffle to react, giving you time to come up for air and get out your answer before burying your face again.

"Affection!" Your face makes a pomf sound as it slams back into the pillow. You only managed to catch a glimpse of his surprised stature catching the pillow as it flew a few feet to the side of him. He didn't make eye contact with you, otherwise you might have burst into tears under his gaze. Even if he doesn't intend to seem harsh, there's always an unsettling edge to him that can set your emotions over the edge.

"Does providing for you not count as affection?" You hear him ask poignantly. He pauses for a few moments, but you don't remove your face from the cotton pillowcase. It smells like fresh feathers and the natural scent of your hair, but the heat of your face and the labor required to breathe makes the experience a little bit suffocating. "We keep talking about this, but I feel like we never get anywhere. I can't just stay here all the time. I need to work on finding out who tried to take you. I need to do my job and take contracts. Soon, I'll be back in the Games on top of it all again. Surely you understand that. I can't imagine—"

"Stop talking over there and come hug me!" You emerge to yell at him in a desperate burst. You bury yourself again, waiting to hear if he'll be mad at you.

You hear him sigh before he shuffles audibly in your direction. You feel his weight create slopes in the mattress near you as he crawls over to you. Your spine tingles with excitement as you anticipate him, but you don't wait. The moment he's in range, you toss the pillow aside and go to slam your torso into him. Instead of the graceful embrace you expected to pull off, your head makes a loud, reverberating thunk against his chassis' chest as you hit him way harder than you expected. He quickly shuffles into a seated position before forcibly grabbing and cradling your head. You know that's going to hurt in a few moments, and you know with a sound that loud it's going to hurt badly.

"What the hell…?! Skinsuit, are you okay?" He's pulled you into his frame again as he crosses his legs around you. You're trying to hold your arms around his waist to give him the hug you intended, but the pain is rapidly gathering up in your forehead where you crashed into his metal body. He's cradling and brushing his fingers against your scalp, but it can't spare you now. You want to grab your head, but you struggle to move your arms. "Did you actually just give yourself a concussion trying to hug me?" He makes a vocalization that sounds like a small mechanical whine in his throat.

You slump into him and forget what you were upset about mere moments ago.

•    •    •    •

You come to loosely tucked under the covers in bed and lying on your side, Royce curled up behind your neck and purring softly. Revenant is lying next to you, his mask pressed into your face gently. His arms are cradling your neck and head, which still feels a bit sore as it pounds at the sudden wave of consciousness. You can feel the motion of a few fingers near your neck stroking Royce and keeping her purring happily. One of his legs is wrapped around yours, pinning you down on your side. You feel the weight of Six at the foot of the bed, although he's perfectly still for the time being. You moan a little from the dull, pounding pain and a few tears escape your closed eyes as you struggle not to cry, even though you don't feel emotional or in any sharp, overwhelming type of pain.

"Fragile little thing, just stay there. Listen to the purring. Relax." His voice is low, smoother, and calmer than normal. You feel like you're underwater and can't reach him, but you lift your arms up and meet his cold chest anyway. You loosely grab at the straps holding his headscarf to his chassis; your eyelids too heavy to open as you weakly tangle your fingers around them.

"Your little birdcage is too boring, isn't it? You just need a reason to stay, and I haven't given you one. The one thing you want is me, but I need to leave to hunt those who might hunt you, so you fly away when I leave the door open. I see the issue." He hums rhythmically, almost melodically, ensuring his voice is soft enough to not upset your head. One of his hands pulls away from behind you, suddenly reappearing in your blind perception when it gingerly and softly pulls your closest hand away from his straps to intertwine with it. His cool, metal fingers slip between yours, allowing his leather-clad palm to press into your fleshy, warm, soft one. His fingers anchor themselves to you as they curl around and press into the back of your hand. His claws frame your knuckles, intentionally squeezing your whole hand with a vibrant and dominant affection. You instinctively squeal a little, letting it barely erupt past your throat.

"You miss me. You want me. I am your ultimate prize, aren't I? You worship me. You crave my attention. You're helpless without me." He whispers with a concerning voraciousness. "What a responsibility that is, to care and protect such a needy little thing as you, but in truth..." His mask lifts away from your face to land right against your ear, letting his breath leave your nerves alight. "...I love how much you need me."

You feel the blood rush to your face rapidly. Your head pounds with the newfound pressure, giving you a fierce enough headache to make you moan in agony. His mask presses back into yours as you wince from the pain in your forehead, but he presses in deeper.

"Oh, dear, calm down, little raven. Did I say something to rile you?" His voice is laced with a cruel delight. He knows what he said.

You know he loves to tease you. His body is tensed up and primed to strike and pin you down. You know for a fact that he enjoys the dynamic of being overwhelmingly stronger and scarier than you, and he can barely help becoming that predator in your presence. You also instinctively want to buckle under the weight of his aura or flee from his attention, both of which only fuels him more. You're locked up under him as you feel your heart rate spike with concerned anticipation, but it causes his stature to loosen rather than tense further as he realizes that he needs to be softer in this moment.

"But truly, calm down. Listen to Royce's purrs. Feel my hand. Know you're safe. Just be quelled. Sleep." His voice is soft and smooth again, almost quiet enough to fool you into thinking it was someone entirely antithetical to the normally cold, cruel simulacrum he shows most others.

You tug on the one strap you still have a grip on and squeeze his hand. You don't want to do what he asks and rest. You missed this so much, all it took was injuring yourself on him and his façade of uncaring aloofness gives way to a possessive doting. You don't care about the headache or the pounding veins, you just want to enjoy the moment. Maybe he finally gets what you want from him and it's safe to pass out, but what if it isn't? What if he goes back to being distant? You aren't able to pull him any closer, so you muster up the strength and mental fortitude to pull yourself into him. It's more of a writhing motion than a graceful one, but you get your body pressed up against his as you push his face backwards enough to straighten out his spinal plates. You slink out of his hand's grasp to get an anchor back and around his leathery neck, feeling the muscle-like tubes, hydraulics, and robotics underneath. You let your naturally smaller frame shrink into him as your forehead naturally lines up and presses against his chin. He spares a few moments before his metal arms wrap around you and squeeze you in place. He could crush you if he had the inkling to do so, but he eases off as soon as your spine starts to bend into his hug.

"Sleep." Another order. Despite your headache, you insist on defying him, huffing under your breath in response. He scoffs at you, letting his breath drench the surface of your face in warmth.

"I said sleep, and you will do as I ask. Don't pretend like you don't want to. You hit your head hard. I'll be here when you wake up."

You hold your breath for a few moments, deciding if you'll give a slow exhale of surrender or a labored hiss of defiance. Despite your genuine desire to be as insubordinate as possible, you slowly release your breath with a long, wistful sigh of defeat. You make a small inhale, just enough to get out a final request before you let yourself go adrift.

"Don't move," is your last utterance before your jostled nervous system pulls you away from reality once again.

•    •    •    •

You wake up again, but now it's late in the afternoon. Your head still hurts a bit, but it's significantly less disturbing than the metal machination tangled and grappled around your frame. He is strangely silent.

You cock your head back a bit to meet his eyes, only to be met with void, lifeless pits. He's in reboot? You take a moment and remain still, but he doesn't stir. You gently jostle a bit in his arms, making a small electrical buzz begin somewhere deep in his chest. It holds for a moment before you can begin to hear the familiar whirring of cooling fans begin again. His vocalizer begins to hum a little calibration tone at a low volume. Limbs twitch a little as each tests its own movement in a recursive manner, starting near his midline and working its way down his limbs and to each of his digits. His emotional state should be back any moment now. His jerky movements slow down and cease after a few more seconds, then you feel his entire body lurch into yours, grasping you with all the fierceness and strength of an apex predator. You're far too sluggish to react in time, not that you had any hope of escaping him like this anyway.

You squirm a little in apprehensive discomfort under his oppressive grapple, remembering the wounds he's accidentally inflicted on you before while in reboot. You try to pull away, but he's quick and firm to press you back into him, one arm wrapped around your back and cradling the back of your head while the other keeps his open palm anchoring your lower spine and teasing your tailbone. He vomits a static cacophony from his jaw that slowly clarifies into legible words.

"—dare you to try! You can't have what's mine!" He shouts over you in a tone laced with wrath towards an unknown entity. He seems to be hallucinating something upsetting to him. As you realize this, your desire to help him back to reality snaps into action.

You slink your arms out from being pinned at your sides—thankfully without his notice—and lift your hands carefully to caress his mask gently and softly. As soon as your touch is registered, he leans into your hands and nuzzles into them, allowing you to gently run your fingers down and around every ridge, divot, and plane of his mask. Your affection seems to warp his hallucination from a stressful and loud defensiveness to a quiet and quelled relaxation. All that is audible is your own heartbeat and breathing, the sounds of your fingers sliding across the smooth texture of his face, the minor whirrs and negligible clicks of his body adjusting and moving, and a low rumble of a purr emitting somewhere from deep in his chest. His eyes are still empty, but you brace yourself and try to coax him back.

"H-Hey big guy, are you okay?" You airily whimper at him, hoping he will wake up a little more to your voice. Unfortunately, he still remains somewhere between unconscious and sentient. His movement ceases for a moment as he processes your words.

"I love you." He mumbles in a low tone.

Oh.

You knew this, didn't you? Then why does it feel so shocking and reassuring to hear him say out loud? Sure, you said it to him first in a moment of excitement, but for some reason you never expected to hear him ever say it back to you, with or without his full awareness. Your face burns a little as your face flushes, and you feel a strong need to squirm into his frame excitedly. You feel your heart speed up and your body warm up. You emit a high pitched whine from holding back the natural need to express your elation. It was only three words, and it isn't even news to you, yet you can't stop lingering on it. You bury your face into his headscarf to hide from his empty stare out of some combination of mutual affection and the pure embarrassment of being felled by a mere statement.

You feel his hug tighten around you into a threateningly powerful squeeze. A few of your joints make cracking sounds as they give way to his demands, but he stops short of causing you pain. All you get is the concerning anticipation of that pain, but thankfully none of the payoff. He emits a stronger, deeper purring sound out of his chest and into your hidden visage, dampened only by the cloth of his scarf. His hands slip under your shirt slowly and carefully, finally making contact with your bare skin. You twitch away from the cold touch, but it quickly warms to match your body heat. He pushes into the revealed crevasses of your spine, gently guiding you to relax your frame.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, his grip on you loosens and his limbs ragdoll for a mere moment as he takes account of the past few minutes.

"Ah, the little raven couldn't resist using me as a nest to roost in, huh?" He is now fully aware and teasingly condescending. "I didn't move, just like you asked." He's fishing for praise already.

You unbury yourself from his scarf to glance up at him. Indeed, his eyes are glowing a bright and aware golden yellow with their piercing, tightened, analog pupils drilling into your soul. You're still terrified of being caught in his gaze even if you know you have nothing to fear. It's as if his entire body was built for inciting terror and reducing the human form to be nothing but brittle and weak vermin. It's scary, but you've become a connoisseur for his monstrous aura.

"Yeah, you didn't." You respond coyly as your nose scrunches up for the quip: "I guess I've tamed the mean old simulacrum, eh?"

He immediately emits a snorting sound as if to choke back a laugh, scoffing openly and cocking one eyelid shut to accentuate his disbelief.

"Very bold words coming from a tiny skinsuit with a swollen nose, a black eye, and a concussion." He states as dryly as his vocalizations allow him to.

"Wait, what?!" You immediately try to see your reflection in his metal chest, but alas, it's too matte to reflect properly. Your whole head is sore but you had no idea you tanked a black eye in the process. "You're joking, right?!" You look back up at him desperate for some reassurance. He looks back at you with an awkward shrug and another snicker, clearly humored by your sudden realization that you did—in fact—hurt yourself just trying to hug him.

You push out of his embrace and nearly leap out of the bed, intending to head to the bathroom to see for yourself. As soon as you're on your feet, the dizziness hits you almost as quickly as the floor does.

"Skinsuit!" He's fast, but he wasn't fast enough to catch you this time. Your face is planted into the ground, your head hurts, you can't remember how to coordinate your limbs to get up, and now having a busted up face is the least of your problems. "Why did you do that?! Are you stu—" He catches himself by slurring his insult into a frustrated growl. You can hear his palm slap into his mask before he collects himself and begins to lift you off the floor by your shoulders.

There's blood on the floor beneath where your face landed, a couple fresh droplets making their way off your face and into the forming puddle below.

Soon, you're staring at the ceiling from the bed, looking up to meet Revenant's bothered but concerned gaze down at you.

"Your nose is bleeding and possibly broken, and now you have two black eyes." He states without any infections before sighing and turning away to continue. "You need to stop. You are the most fragile, aloof, and shortsighted skinbag I have ever met, and I need you to stop throwing yourself into danger and hurting yourself." He is speaking so plainly that the frustration comes across even stronger than it would if he tried to express it. "It's funny, but only to a point. It's funny when it's a mistake and a negligible enough injury, but sometimes you really just don't think, do you?" He sighs and turns back to you, holding out his spindly, clawed hand above your chest as if expecting something. "I'll give you more attention if you'll just listen to me and try to stay safe. Deal?" It's a handshake he's offering.

You struggle but manage to raise your hand and grasp his awkwardly, but you don't shake. You're actually not sure how when your hands are perpendicular and not parallelly joined. He shakes it for you.

"Deal. I expect you're good on your word, right? A fan of the Hunter would never be so dishonorable, would they?" He coos a little sarcastically.

"Ha, my first favorite. You figured it out." You weakly whisper aloud.

"Oh please, it was super obvious since that bird seems to like you so much. Plus it seems like most of my fans originally were Bloodhound's. 'Hunter to prey pipeline', or something like that. I've seen a few fans say that online." He praises his fan poaching openly as he sits next to your splayed out body on the bed.

"Oh... so you do consider yourself prey for them?" Your voice sounds weak even to you, so you're a little worried if he can hear you prod at him.

"If a manufactured killer that can skewer someone with a single claw is the definition of 'prey' to them, then who am I to argue?" He stretches out his hand and sharpens the tips, making them look as feral as possible. "They can come at me any day if they think these are the hands of mere..." He thinks for a moment "...bráð... I think that's what they called me."

You light up as he says a word you do not recognize. It sounds like Bloodhound's native tongue to you, although you aren't sure what it means, context clues are good enough to give you the gist.

"So you do like Bloodhound?" You're smiling a little. He grimaces and winces at the word 'like', possibly not remembering that he uttered the word 'love' during reboot a short while ago. He makes a sound similar to clearing one's throat, not that he necessarily has anything akin to that type of hardware.

"We have a mutual respect for one another's capabilities as hunters and killers." He clarifies, letting the silence settle for a moment.

The silence speaks volumes.

"Deceit is a learned skill, don't worry, you'll get there eventually." You finally utter.

He whips around to give you the dirtiest glare his static visage can offer.

"You're not allowed near Sherry anymore. She's clearly a horrible influence." He growls.

"You seem to have taken a liking to her though." You hum, averting your eyes to the pure white ceiling, focusing on the small imperfections where the joists have minimally sagged under the weight of the building above.

He growls again, refusing to acknowledge such a possibility. He peers over you again, locked onto your eyes, which meet his gaze when prompted.

"You nearly look like a corpse." He pauses. "I don't like it."

"Thanks." You respond with a weak thumbs up to signal how utterly reassuring such a compliment is. Your sarcasm isn't lost on him, but he ignores it.

"I'm going to get you a washcloth to wipe your face up with. Your nose is going to bleed for a bit, but if it doesn't slow down, I'm going to have to use styptic powder again." You wish you could see what he's talking about, but you can still feel the blood droplets making their way down your nose and cheeks. Maybe it's best you can't see. "I'll fix your nose up and splint it with a bandage in a few moments. It's probably not as bad as it looks currently, but you need to not move since you're also still recovering from a minor concussion." He trails off his voice a bit. "Ice packs, rest, and not planting your face into the floor for a couple weeks should do the trick." He mumbles the last bit, but you still heard it.

He gets up off the bed and begins to walk over to the closed door. The sound of Six's excited claws scratching the door becomes audible as he excitedly hopes to be let in. You also hear mews laced with wrath at being kicked out of the room, but they're mostly drowned out by the scratching sound. Apparently Revenant must have moved once while you were passed out to lock them out of the room. You feel a minor pang of hurt from such a realization, but your logical side recognizes that he has a point. Sometimes he really does need to leave. Sometimes it's good for him to take care of things. What matters is he was there when you woke up, right? He was, which is what you really wanted in the end anyway.

You hear his metal digits clink against the door handle as he goes to turn it.

"Hey, Rev..." He stops cold. The room is silent for a moment. "Everything is gonna be okay, right?"

The world is silent for a long couple of moments. He is obviously reading deeply into the question as he formulates an answer.

"Yeah, as long as you trust me. I've been through this before. I'm experienced, for better or for worse. Just don't panic and become the one maverick in the equation that I can't anticipate."

He doesn't pause for additional input or questions. The door opens, two very needy animals bound into the room, and he walks out, Royce angrily mewing after him. Six leaps into bed with you and begins gently licking your face clean, whimpering in minor concern.

Normally you might resist being coated in prowler saliva, but your head is spinning a little and it's not worth the squirming.

•    •    •    •

"I can't believe how much I have to babysit you." Revenant huffs as he uses a warm, wet washcloth to wipe some remaining stray blood off your cheek. He's used some medical tape and popsicle sticks the MRVN brought from the store to splint and bandage up your nose. The adhesive on the paper tape feels uncomfortable and makes your facial muscles twitch a little in protest, allowing the corners of the tape to turn up. Somehow that's more annoying than the adhesive itself.

"Stop that!" He uses his claws to gently press the tape back to your face, already annoyed at the MRVN looking over his shoulder at his workmanship.

"Sir, I think—"

"Nobody cares what you think!!" He throws his hands up trying to dismiss the MRVN, but he refuses to not watch.

"But... Mr. Cross, I have general practitioner physician software installed for this very thing, I could really help—"

"Fine!" He finally rips the MRVN by his arm to get in front of you. "Fix her, but I swear if you mess up again I will not hesitate to break you down into parts." He practically yells as he stands up from kneeling over you on the couch. The MRVN's emote looks stressed, but quickly changes to a sad face.

"I am sorry, you did put the dog in charge and he did say that she could leave..." He pleads, harkening back to how you managed to slip by him and escape yesterday.

"No, Six didn't say anything of that sort. Six can't talk. She lied to you. How are you this stupid?" Revenant is pacing back and forth between the massive window of a wall overlooking the city and the pillar with the fireplace and the television mounted over it.

The MRVN looks distressed at you as he realigns your nose splint and reapplies the medical tape.

"I am sorry, I wasn't equipped to handle lies! I've been issued a software update to account for skepticism, deceit, and sarcasm now, but—"

"Fine! I think you're a waste of metal and I would systematically deconstruct you if you had the pain receptors to suffer during every minute of it. How'd your lie detector do, hmm?!" Revenant throws a shrug up as he tilts his head in a sarcastic, wrath-filled gesture beckoning the MRVN.

The MRVN winces away a little, taking a moment to process.

"I didn't register any deceit in your statement." The MRVN almost whimpers as he wilts in front of you, still trying to dab up some blood off your face. Your nose still is steadily bleeding. "Ma'am, please sit still." He casually sticks a finger with an exposed node into each of your nostrils and you feel an electrical snap course through it for a moment. It stings and you naturally wince away from him as you grab at your splinted face. He pulls his fingers out and wipes them off for a moment. You feel a tear well up in your eyes from the stinging pain, wondering what just happened.

"What was that?!" You hear Revenant growl as the MRVN lifts off the ground from in front of you, hoisted up by an enraged simulacrum. The MRVN immediately begins to curl into a defensive stance as he desperately tries to explain himself.

"I cauterized her nosebleed! I'm sorry, it's standard first aid procedure!" Revenant drops him and he slams into the floor with a loud crash, making you jump and sink deeper into the couch away from them both, still covering your splinted nose. Revenant leans over you and lightly pulls your hands away from your nose, inspecting the work. His eyes dart in small jumps to each area of your face the MRVN touched. His LED irises slowly relax and widen as he wipes away a tear that escapes your eyes. He stands up and away from you to then hoist the MRVN back up to his knees.

"That hurt her. Do something about it." Revenant growls again before returning to pacing. The MRVN whimpers before getting to his feet to shuffle to a cabinet in the kitchen, explaining as he goes.

"Ibuprofen should help, but I'm also licensed to administer a little lidocaine." He hums with a tremolo, still a little fearful of Revenant's ire. "You won't be able to blow your nose for about a week, but you'll feel a lot better at the end of it."

You return your hands to your nose to cover it, still tearing up over the stinging sensation from the electrical cauterization. Revenant extends the trek of his pacing, now requiring him to step over and around a couple of prowlers curled up on the floor in clusters, keeping each other warm. He slowly decides to alter his pacing into an extended, winding figure eight, circling around the piles of his "puppies'' in an infinitely looping manner. It's funny to watch what would normally be an aggressive, threatening lurk around the room turn into a chaotic shuffle to avoid disturbing the creatures he's come to adore and deeply care for.

You hear Six's claws tap against the hardwood floor from behind you, confirmed by the meowing of Royce who sticks to Revenant and Six at almost all times. As Six comes into your view, you see Royce angrily mewing behind him and leaping into short sprints trying to keep up with the unfair stride advantage Six possesses. Six takes a moment to decide between going to your side or Revenant's as Royce makes a straight dash towards Revenant, immediately grabbing onto his leg wraps and trying to climb him with her tiny claws.

"Oh, for the love of—" Revenant winces in minor surprise at her, but quickly lifts his leg to pry her off. She cries insistently in protest until he tucks her into his headscarf, where she quiets down and begins purring loudly enough for you to hear. Six watches in some combination of concern and disapproval. To be fair, you've never seen Six spoil the two juvenile prowlers, who now lie in a pile with their mother in the corner. Six seems like a more stern parent than Revenant is, funnily enough. What's even more humorous is Six's palpable judgment of Revenant's constantly giving in to Royce's demands.

Realizing he can no longer easily pace around the room and brood, Revenant audibly makes a sighing noise and relaxes a bit, making his way to the couch. Six immediately cuts him off and leaps into the seat next to you instead, sniffing at your face for a moment before turning to growl at Revenant.

"It wasn't me this time!" He throws his hands out to his sides to accentuate his point. "She fell of her own accord."

Six growls a little more, refusing to give up the seat next to you, but instead nuzzling up into your lap and turning his growl into the most disconcertingly deep purr. Revenant's stature shrugs further as he takes the seat on the opposite side of Six, reaching into his headscarf to scratch Royce's cheeks.

The MRVN returns with a gelled up cotton swab, pushing it gently into your nose and numbing it almost instantly. He hands you a small shot glass of a measured out medicine, followed by some ice water. The medicine tastes like some combination of orange and alcohol that barely is palatable, but it washes down easily enough with the water. The MRVN seems cautiously happy that you accepted his help.

"Thank you." You say to him, mostly to give him audible approval and hopefully keep Revenant from dogging him further. You can hear Revenant sneer as he hisses a little under his breath, seemingly mad that he doesn't have an excuse to abuse the automa further. "I am sorry I snuck out yesterday and lied to you about having permission. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal." You hang your head a little, but a whirring chirp comes from the MRVN that reestablishes your attention on him.

"It is okay! It won't happen again, I am sure. Everyone makes mistakes." He seems happy enough as he stands upright from kneeling in front of you.

"Bring me my notes, rustbucket." Revenant demands quite hastily.

As the MRVN walks away, Revenant reaches forward to the coffee table and turns on the television, flipping through a few channels before finding the Apex Games' broadcasting network. A couple of news folks are sitting around a table all chatting about the upcoming announcement for the new celebrity contender, theorizing on who they may be.

One commentator is placing bets with the others that the new player will be a simulacrum. Another insists that it will be a pilot. Still another thinks that it may be another supermodel-type like Mirage or Loba, which makes you giggle a little inside knowing how awkward Mirage can sometimes be. A more cynical member from behind the camera can be heard saying it'll probably just be a new modded-up MRVN with a goofy name because "they're running out of attractive people with a high tolerance for pain." The eldest anchor who has been silent up to this point begins to chuckle a little jovially at that comment, finally retorting with a jab that eventually they're going to have to start letting prisoners of war fight in the games to really spice it up. The majority of the table cracks up at that one before they throw a poll up on the screen with all the proposed options, asking viewers to place their own bets for fun. The top voted option quickly becomes supermodel which is to be expected, but the joke entry of "prisoner of war" easily takes second place. The remaining votes are spread pretty evenly across the remaining options. Revenant audibly scoffs.

"Did they tell you who the new player is?" You ask with a slightly awkward twinge to your voice caused by your nose struggling to handle rapid airflow. You peer across Six to see if he reacts. He huffs again, apparently annoyed by the whole ordeal.

"No, I find out at the same time everyone else does. Heard some rumors though, not that I could care less. I've been too busy hunting down the scum of this city and leaving messages for whoever runs the criminal operations around here." Revenant averts his gaze despite your obvious lean to try to make eye contact. He may not like seeing your face bruised and your nose in a splint. You haven't dared look in a mirror yourself, so it could be understandable.

The MRVN returns with a stack of newspaper clippings, scizzors, a folder filled with papers, and a partially snipped up paper from today, handing them all to Revenant sequentially. The MRVN, now empty-handed, comes back to you and kneels down to your level to review your injuries. He carefully and gently pushes and pulls on your jaw to force your head to look any which way so he can get a better view.

"It should make a full recovery in a few weeks. Swelling will persist for a few days. I will check up on you regularly and administer painkillers as needed." The MRVN nods a little, eventually looking in Revenant's direction for approval. Revenant offers none except for the lack of disapproval. The MRVN seems a little lost by Revenant's refusal to acknowledge him, so you lightly reach out and hold his wrist to grab his attention again.

"Thank you, I appreciate your help." You say to him as he looks to you. His emote immediately brightens to a happy face at the feedback.

"I am glad to help! Would you like some dinner?" Geeze. You forgot what time it was. Now you look to Revenant instinctively for approval, already knowing you're going to be chided for wanting to say no.

"Make her soup," he demands, "if she isn't that hungry, at least soup is easy to consume."

You didn't want to eat, but he's not wrong about soup either. He hears you sigh a little.

"Listen, you're probably still suffering from a concussion, you've bled plenty today, and now your face needs to heal. I know you vastly prefer to starve yourself most of the time, but you need nutrition." He pauses for a moment, contemplating. He calls out to the MRVN who is now in the kitchen. "Actually, prepare a tonkotsu ramen for tomorrow. Make her eggs for tonight."

You cringe a little at that word: ramen. It's the cheapest noodle soup available at most stores, sold in individual little packages. You lived off of them for a long time while homeless. They were shelf stable, lightweight noodle bricks with powdered bullion, loosely wrapped in thin plastic packaging. You've eaten the noodles like crackers before, made the two-minute-long soup format, you tried using the noodles like bread for peanut butter sandwiches, and you even have made cheap macaroni and cheese with the noodles. Homeless shelters would have pallets of the stuff donated by well-meaning individuals, but it could never undo how utterly exhausting and tiring it is to taste the same noodle soup every day for years on end. You were grateful for the food, of course, but not ready to even try such a thing again. You don't feel right complaining now either; after all, you'd shudder to think how much money Revenant has dumped on you. You don't want to come off as ungrateful. You have no idea what word he put in front of "ramen" or why the MRVN would have to prep for a two-minute meal tomorrow, but your internals churn at the thought. Ramen isn't even that bad. You've just had enough to last the rest of your life, and you really don't want the uncomfortable "nostalgia" of your homeless life. You steel yourself for the moment. You can handle one more bowl of the stuff if it makes him happy.

"You look like you're going to throw up. Are you sick and tired of eggs or something?" Revenant has been staring at you this whole time, apparently. You quickly shake your head to dismiss his concerns before finding the energy to answer him more completely.

"I'm fine, just thinking back to..." You trail off. You're afraid you're going to sound ungrateful if you're honest, but you also don't want to be dishonest. You internally panic trying to figure out how to word this well. Six begins licking you, making your train of thought careen off the rails. You pull your face away but he pushes his snout beneath your chin to carefully lick the uninjured area of your face. Before you have time to collect yourself, you feel Revenant appear behind you and grab you under your arms, lifting you over the back of the couch and out of Six's reach. As you lift off from your comfy perch, you see Royce bounce into the warm cavity in the couch, leaping over Six's massive tail to do so. Six begins licking her instead as she swats at his hardened snout.

Revenant puts you on your feet before pulling a single arm around your back to brace you, leading you back into your bedroom and into the bathroom. He glances at the sink, toilet, shower, and massive bathtub before speaking up.

"Pick your poison." He offers, gesturing in the general direction of the many plumbing sources.

You lower yourself to the floor, actually feeling a bit dizzy from either the concussion or being lifted unexpectedly. You crawl over to the toilet, just in case Revenant is right. Thankfully the MRVN cleans the bathroom daily so the whole room is pristine, the white and black marble flooring with artful black bamboo mats being no exception. You peer in at the blue-tinted water. It has a floral scent from the bowl cleaner which settles your stomach more than you care to admit. You jump a little as Revenant's entire mass slams into the ground next to you, only cushioned by his meager loincloth and the bamboo mat. It's genuinely a miracle he didn't crack the marble. You whine a little in delayed protest.

"We can stay here until you're looking a little less pale." He shifts a little, possibly trying to find comfort on the cold floor. "If your nose starts to bleed again, I'll get the MRVN to cauterize it again." You wince a little at that idea.

You don't think you need to throw up. You just had a moment remembering what a block of dried noodles with sodium-laced powder tastes like, as well as remembering an era where sitting in a nice bathroom like this was a pipe dream. You feel the room seem to spin, not out of nausea but rather out of feeling like you do not belong in this space. Is this all too good for you? Maybe things would be better if you went back to living off of ramen and sleeping in a tiny bunk in the Apex Games facility.

You jolt back to reality as a cold set of claws gently lands on your shoulder.

"Flighty raven, what's wrong?" You hear him say, but you struggle to see him through the visual snow even as it fades. He called you 'raven' again. It's been an unexpected shift from his original nickname for you, but you appreciate how much more it sounds like a name than an insult.

He sounded so much more concerned than you thought he would be. You rub your eyes gently hoping the visual snow will fade faster, but unfortunately it seems as if it will recede at its own pace regardless of what you do. You have to try to answer him.

"Sorry, I just was reminded of back when I was..." You trail off before realigning yourself to speak again. "Sorry, sorry. I was just thinking back before I was a volunteer and—"

"You don't need to say anything more." He pushes his metal thumb against your closed lips as his other fingers curl up underneath your chin. You are whipped back to the present moment in an instant, absolutely enamored by that simple touch. The visual blur and pixelated coloration fades almost instantly. Gravity feels as if it barely is gripping you anymore and your internals almost feel tickled, sparing the new synthetic ones. Suddenly, the lack of feeling in the synthetic organs is jarring. Acid burns your throat and you keel over, unable to vomit but also in an otherworldly pain brought on entirely by the psychological whiplash.

Revenant is fast to his feet, especially considering how quiet he is when he moves from a sitting position on the floor to a full tilt sprint. If you hadn't just seen it, you would have thought the noise was only him shifting his weight a little. Before you know it, the MRVN is practically falling over as he is dragged backwards into your presence.

"Fix this." Revenant hoists the MRVN to tower over your curled up form on the floor. Despite the inevitably disconcerting experience of being dragged around by a frustrated simulacrum, the MRVN is quick to adapt, kneeling over you and helping you back into a seated position.

"What hurts?" The MRVN asks with fairly little emotion.

You want to answer but you can't for some reason. The MRVN takes your arm, feeling your pulse in your wrist, touching your forehead, and pressing his hand gently into a few places on your torso where the healed surgical scars are.

The MRVN goes still for a moment before standing up and beginning to leave, much to Revenant's displeasure.

"Well? What's wrong?!" He looks as if he might disassemble him right there for daring to walk away from you.

"Give me a moment." The MRVN sounds surprisingly unfearful of Revenant at the moment, possibly engrossed in accomplishing whatever he is doing.

Revenant turns to you for a moment. His shoulders tense up as he stares down at you, pausing to try to determine if you're well again or not. He seems to conclude not, as he moves as if to follow the MRVN through the doorway before he suddenly reappears over the threshold, holding one of the two young prowlers as the other follows.

Revenant looks on in a mix of shock and confusion as the MRVN leans over, placing one next to you while the other gravitates to the opposite side. They squirm against your hands as you try to pet them. You remember when they were small enough to hold only a mere few months ago; they grow so fast.

"What are these?" The MRVN asks you plainly.

"This is..." you pause for a moment, not sure why this is important. "This is Seven and his sister."

"What are they?" He stays kneeled in front of you, showing no emotion, simply quizzing you along.

"They're Six's offspring, I think?" You look to Revenant for reassurance, who stays completely and utterly still, probably confused himself. "They—uh—they're young prowlers."

"Good." The MRVN completely falls into a seated position, but much gentler than Revenant had minutes earlier. He takes a moment to look you over. "Now, can you tell me which is the boy and which is the girl?"

"Um..." You pause. The deep purple one has curled up in your lap, gently purring at a low hum. This dark hued one is calm, collected, and lax. The orange-red one is boisterously sniffing you up and down, licking your arm and other exposed skin if something smells interesting enough. This bright one is energetic, curious, and squirmy. You're not sure which is which. "I'm guessing—" You point to the purple one in your lap. "—this is the girl."

"Wrong." Revenant butts in finally, now leaning against the wall with crossed arms, looking like he's losing patience with the MRVN. "It's reversed. The boy is purple, the same color as Six. The girl is red like her mom. The red with teal stripes is one of the more common colorations to see out in the wild. They stick out so easily, plus they have a higher rate of aggression, so humans encounter them more often." He huffs to end his tangent, realizing he's going into more detail than he initially intended.

The room is silent for a moment before the MRVN continues his line of questioning.

"What texture do they—"

"Seriously, what is this?" Revenant interrupts angrily, throwing his hands up a little bit. "This is getting annoying. What the hell are you doing? This is a waste of time." You wince away from the MRVN, who reaches out and takes your pulse a second time. "All you're doing is asking idiotic questions over and over. She's injured, you idiot. I don't need you to test her—"

"You're going to make her have another anxiety attack if you continue." The MRVN interrupts, still holding your wrist and feeling for your heartbeat.

The room falls silent once again. You wish you could curl up into a ball. Revenant has become a statue, frozen in some kind of shock, but the MRVN returns his attention to you.

"Anyways, I was asking you what it feels like to pet this one." He motions to the boy in your lap. You pull your wrist away from him and run your fingers across the young prowler's back. He coos at your touch happily.

Like Six, the boy is very warm like freshly laundered linens, but with the smooth texture of a reptile. Some scales are large and rocky, yet others are small and smooth like silk. The larger scales afford less warmth but more armor, while the smaller scales offer flexibility and hug closer to the warm body, letting the heat emanate through and into your palm. As you run your hand from the crest of his furls down to his flank, his cooing and purring vibrates into your palms. His back legs twitch a little against your touch, possibly a sign of ticklishness.

"He feels really well armored in some areas, almost like a stone. Some places the scales are smooth and slippery and warm." You keep it short as you continue to pet him, somewhat engrossed by the experience. The red girl begins to lick the back of your neck, possibly trying to grab your attention away from her brother.

"What does that feel like?" The MRVN motions to your neck.

Her licks aren't light in the slightest. Her tongue makes wide strokes, pressing into your neck with force. It's moist and warm, but not any rougher than a human's tongue despite being much larger. Her nostrils flare hot air over your wet neck with each lick, and her pants follow up with a cooling sensation. Her snout also hardens into a beak-like texture, but hers isn't as pronounced as her brother's or Six's. Her licks slowly slip around to the side of your neck, pausing as if to feel for the beat in your jugular. She stops licking, eventually resting her head on your shoulder for a few moments. The calm only lasts a few seconds before she notices the curious protrusion on the side of your head, resuming by licking and sniffing your ear. The tickling sensation necessitates you to squirm away and try to push her snout away as you attempt to answer the question posed.

"It feels like—" She pushes past your hands and nails your ear with the sloppiest lick. "—ugh! It feels like an oversized slug hitting me!" You get your hands around her snout and hold her at your shoulder. She immediately slips out, then pushes her snout back into your grip. Suddenly, she's enamored by the concept of fingers, inserting and removing her snout from the circular grip you've made. She looks ridiculous. You start to chuckle as she tilts her head in confusion before reinserting her snout, withdrawing it, and tilting again.

The MRVN stands up and begins to leave.

"Her anxiety attack seems to have been staved off. I'll get back to—" Revenant grabs him before he's made it over the threshold.

"What did you do?" Revenant asks, his voice caught somewhere between genuine curiosity and frustration.

"It's a distraction technique. Perhaps if you were more present and didn't feel the need to escalate every situation, she'd feel a bit more grounded and stable in your presence." The MRVN pushes his hands away and proceeds out of the bathroom. A few moments pass as you watch Revenant's entire stature tense up with rage.

"I am going to fucking tear that stupid—!"

"Escalation!" The MRVN rings out from the kitchen.

Revenant lets out a wrath filled scream as he drives his fist into the mirror above the two sinks next to him, shattering the mirror and causing the glass to shower down on the marble floor in front of you. You feel some of the tiny shards hit your legs, as you wince away from the splash of sharp, reflective daggers. The purple prowler sinks deeper into your lap to try to hide as he whimpers, while the red girl stays behind you momentarily.

Everything sits still for a moment after the glass is shattered. The MRVN appears in the doorway again.

"What happened?!" The MRVN exclaims from the other side of the doorway, peering in.

Revenant holds his fist inside the newly revealed hole in the drywall, staring into the wall where his reflection once was. He's completely still except for a minor tremble that resembles someone under heavy duress. The boy prowler is whimpering in your lap, while the red one tugs on your shirt trying to pull you closer into the wall and away from the glass. You shrink into the marble floor, wishing you could vanish from the scene in front of you.

"Sir, are you both traumatiz—?!"

"Shut up." Revenant growls, ripping his hand out of the wall by making an even bigger hole in the drywall. "I don't need your patronizing bullshit."

Revenant walks over as you cower into the floor, your heart racing. He pulls the purple prowler out of your lap as he ragdolls in his arms, whimpering loudly. Revenant walks him across the glass, causing the many shards to crunch between his metal soles and the marble. What's left beneath his feet is a pool of dangerous, glittery, faulty sparkles. He leaves the whimpering prowler in the safety of the doorway where Six appears to usher him back to the pack.

Revenant returns, picking up the red girl next. She squirms and tries to shake her way out of his grasp, but he has no issue holding her as he carries her across the sea of broken pieces. He places her in the doorway. The MRVN kneels over and pats her head before Six ushers her away too.

Finally, Revenant returns, his mass hulking over you like a hunter victorious over their prey. Your frame is as crouched and shriveled into the floor as it can be. For a moment, you feel that same fear again, overwhelming you. His whole frame blurs into a black silhouette spare for his bright yellow eyes which pierce through the void. You feel dizzy and the sensation of static begins to take over all your senses.

He kneels down to your level, letting you see the color return to his form. Your heart is still racing, but something about him kneeling to meet you closer to eye level is reassuring.

You flinch as the tip of his index finger taps the tip of your nose for a moment. You flinch in surprise before the realization catches up to you.

"Did... Did you just boop my—"

"Shut it." He pulls you into a hug and lifts you off the ground by your torso before scooping an arm under your knees to support you. He casually carries you across the sea of crunching shattered glass, leaving behind a shimmering wake of destruction where he walked. He places you down on your bed before turning to the MRVN.

"I'd throw you in a trash compactor and watch you be turned into a block if you were even slightly less valuable." Revenant pokes a finger into the screen on his chest, which leaves a stoic emote up before switching to a smug one.

"So you're saying I was right?" The MRVN chirps.

"Clean up that mess. I need some time alone. Don't bug me." He huffs at the MRVN. He turns to you. "I'm sorry, just take a break. Turn on the new player announcement and let me know if anything interesting happens. Right now I just need to focus on something else for a little while."

You nod at him and he dismisses himself from the room as you and the MRVN watch. The MRVN shrugs haplessly when he meets your gaze again, his emote displaying a little sweat droplet and rolling eyes. His software update made him a little more sassy and cynical than he was before. You wonder how Pathfinder would change with similar updates.

You can hear Revenant pick up the newspaper clippings from before, as well as Royce whose screams for attention suddenly drift off in the direction of his room before abruptly vanishing as the door slams. You still aren't sure what he's working so diligently on with the newspaper clippings, but maybe it will help him calm down.

The MRVN walks over to you, quickly checks you over for any injuries before giving you a hearty thumbs up.

"Thank you," you say to him, "I'm sorry about him. He's just..." You trail off, unsure of what words to use to describe Revenant that vindicate his attitude.

"It will help now that he knows what an anxiety attack looks like and how his behavior feeds it. I don't think he's completely well either. There aren't many beings who see their own reflection, understand it is themself, and still attack it instinctively." The MRVN pats you on the shoulder before turning on the bedroom television for you, swapping the channel over to the Apex announcement.

You hadn't even realized that. He did attack his own reflection in that moment. If he simply wanted to break the mirror, he would have gone for a right hook that caught the mirror wide, but instead he went for a direct jab. It was a jab with so much power and lethality that it shattered the mirror to penetrate the wall behind it. He only calmed down when his reflection was gone. You remember back at the Apex Facility when his mirror was intentionally smeared with soap, petroleum jelly, or a similar substance to make it opaque and unreflective. You hold your breath for a moment, unsure of what that means. You've heard of people who were scared of their own reflection before, but this isn't fear—this is hate.

"Oh, look! That's her!" The MRVN happily points to a woman on screen who has happily taken a seat at the commentator's table, kicked her feet up on it, let her chair lean back, and is actively throwing back a bottle of beer. You turn your attention to the screen.

"Oh, sorry, are you guys not allowed to drink beer on TV? Shame. More for me I guess." She smirks coyly at the group of anchors who are now huddled together on the opposite end of the table, gawking in awe. She finishes the whole beer in a long swig before turning to look someplace off camera and throwing the bottle. It's a moment before you can hear it land in a trashcan off-screen. "Hell yeah!" She celebrates her small victory.

"So, you're Viper's daughter?" One of them asks, noticeably taken aback by her garrish attitude.

She flicks her head so her silver hair swishes with the motion. Her skin is perfect, her cheeks are slightly flush from the alcohol, but her eyes are a sharp, reflective amber. She's downright gorgeous, but you're not sure who Viper is.

"You bet! Name's Kairi Imahara, but you all can call me Valkyrie." She snaps finger guns in their general direction before leaning over, pulling a fresh bottle of beer up from behind the table, and flicking off its bottle cap using a metal buckle on her boots. She immediately takes another swig. You look on in awe. How can someone about your size manage to throw back carbonated drinks like that, let alone alcohol? You'd be tapping out after one.

"So, uh, Miss Valkyrie—"

"Valk is fine, I don't need all the pleasantries."

"Yes, um, Valk... What is it that you bring to the Apex Games?"

Valkyrie chuckles to herself for a moment.

"Ever heard of Northstar?" She throws her head back, looking to the ceiling, almost in a gesture of nostalgia. The commentators all nod to one another, before one offers an answer.

"Of course, your dad's Titan. It's been decommissioned for—"

"I stole it," she says nonchalantly as she throws her head forward to see her audience. She says it so casually, but her devious smile gives her away as she breaks into a small laugh at the abject horror on the commentator's faces.

She has her laugh before taking another swig of beer and continuing.

"I mean, I stole it when I was a kid. Piloted it myself. No training. Just years of watching good ol' dad." Her smirk turns even more sadistic as the shock washes over their faces.

"You were a child?!"

"Yup. I was lucky. I found my place in the world young, and that place was in the sky." She throws her head back again to look at the ceiling again for a moment. Her smile is still clear despite most of her visage being out of sight. "Northstar is coming with me to the Games."

Now there is audible gasping. One commentator clutches her necklace. Another leans back. Yet another is stunned silent.

"A Titan? In the Apex Games? That's crazy! How is anyone—"

"Not in its original form." She pulls her feet off the table, sits upright, suddenly glowing with a seriousness about her. "Northstar was decommissioned after my dad..." She clears her throat audibly. "After I lost my dad, I knew I couldn't let his legacy die. So, me and a friend took some of the modded parts from Northstar. We made it compact. Made it light. Made it wearable." She reaches behind her, pulling out a white helmet with golden orange stripes and bullet holes in the visor, placing it on the table. Everyone is silent for a long pause.

She sighs, clearly experiencing a moment of grief before she begins to smile again, closing her eyes as if to hold back a slight welling of tears.

"Know this name—Imahara—and always keep an eye on the skies." She says to the camera before hugging the helmet for a long time, eventually pulling off the table and placing it out of view once again.

She looks back to her audience.

"Oh man, did I kill the vibes we had going? Ha, sorry about that." She's back to being charmingly brash as she takes another swig of her bottle, clearly finishing it. "It wouldn't be right of me to not give a little backstory, right?"

One of the commentators adjusts his tie awkwardly to try to regain his composure.

"Yes, um, my apologies Miss Imahara—I mean... Valk. Would you mind answering some questions from the audience? Perhaps give us some insight on you as well as your plans?"

"Of course! Just don't ask me what the capital of Leviathan is. I can never remember that one." She laughs at her own joke while the commentators follow suit, giving them all a chance to regain their composure.

"Well, this one is from, uh, let's see..." he says as he taps away on his tablet. "Aha, from Victoria, age twelve, from Solace."

"Twelve?" She smiles. "I'll drink to that." She rips another beer out, casually bending the cap off using the edge of the table top, and throwing it back. She must have a stomach and liver made of steel.

The commentators give a more genuine laugh at that one.

"Victoria asks: what's your favorite food?"

Valkyrie's eyes light up at the question. Despite the simplicity of such a question, she seems unreasonably eager to answer it.

"Ha! Easy!" She leans back in her chair, swirling the beer in its bottle in the air. "Ramen!"

You grimace and pull your attention back out of the television. You've heard enough. Honestly she seems pretty cool, even if you don't know her heritage. Anyone who has—legally or otherwise—piloted a Titan is clearly talented and worthy of respect, and if her dad was the pilot of a notable Titan, that's even more impressive. Clearly that was her dad's helmet. You could see the grief wash over her when she held it. You think you have heard things about Northstar before, but you can't remember. If its name even remotely jogs your memory, it must have been one of the most powerful ones out there. You normally have no room in your memory banks for those types of things.

The MRVN knocks on the open door to your bedroom, holding a plate of eggs.

"You can come in."

"Isn't she neat?" The MRVN chirps. He must have been watching the broadcast from the television in the living room while he cooked. "I like her a lot, but Pathfinder is still my favorite." You take the plate of eggs as he hands them to you.

"That's understandable, Pathfinder is super nice."

"You've met him?!" The MRVN perks up happily.

"Yeah! Next time I see him, maybe I can bring you a flower from his garden! Or have him sign something for you!" You taste a piece of egg. He's very good at consistently making tasty food. Surprisingly, Revenant manages to make better ones, but you know Revenant goes above and beyond every time he cooks anything. Maybe he enjoyed cooking back when he was human. "Honestly, it's the least I could do for putting up with me and Revenant."

The MRVN tilts his head in confusion.

"You mean Mr. Cross?"

You nearly choke on your eggs. Fuck. Right. He was trying to be incognito and use a fake name. Although you're not sure how he's managed to do so when walking around looking exactly like the Revenant from the Apex Games. The MRVN's optic bulb adjusts a couple times before it brightens again.

"Oh... you do mean Mr. Cross..." The MRVN pulls his pointer finger to his head, holding it over where his mouth might be as if he is pondering deeply. "He lied, I see this now. My deception software update hadn't parsed through older logs yet." Suddenly he goes from pondering to cradling his head. "Oh no! That's the Revenant! I backtalked the Revenant! He could have had me—"

You grab one of his hands and he calms down.

"It's a secret, you can't tell anyone. If you promise not to tell anyone, I'll see if I can get a signature from Pathfinder or some other momento for you." You don't know what else to do but bribe him to stay quiet.

"I promise." He is quick to agree. "I wouldn't want to make him mad. Plus you seem nice."

"Thank you," you say, relaxing and withdrawing before taking another bite of food.

•    •    •    •

You knock on Revenant's door. At some point Royce must have been let back into the main living room, as she's now curled up in sight with the two juvenile prowlers and a short ways from Six. Most of the prowlers are curled up since the MRVN recently fed them; they always seem to want to relax immediately after eating.

You knock again.

It's getting late. The sun has gone down and the windows overlook the glowing signs and screens below lining the streets. Since the fall weather is nice, people are out and walking around. A lot of the screens are showing replays and promos for the upcoming season of the Apex Games, showing off Valkyrie and her sponsor's products as she poses with them. The news was huge and the city's liveliness absolutely reflects that. Taxi and limo horns blare angrily at one another, drunk people can be heard hooting and hollering over the general crowd, and the white noise of hundreds of engines turning over and humming below is barely muffled by the glass panes. You knock again, but even louder this time.

You wait. The scent of an apple spice candle that the MRVN lit a few hours ago is wafting in the air. The light musk that the prowlers normally generate is washed out by the smell, but the warmth of having so many snoring bodies in the same room is significant. The top edge of the windows are also slightly fogged up from the temperature difference. The MRVN is sitting in the corner of the living room, plugged into the wall and recharging. He looks asleep, but you know from experience that they are very much aware even when in sleep mode.

"If you don't answer this time, I'm coming in." You say gently into the door as you knock one last time.

You stare at the white door, noting each paint streak at eye level. It's been long enough.

You open the door just to be hit with a crisp breeze. The sliding glass door to a small balcony is slightly ajar. He's not here. Newspaper clippings pinned to a map of the city on the wall flicker in the wind. It looks like a conspiracy theorists' dream, but without the funny lines of yarn connecting different pins and all centering in on a single location in the city. You can't help but curiously approach the giant map filled with articles.

Each clipping is either an obituary, a police blotter report, or an article about a crime pinned to the location on the map where it presumably occurred. Some of the articles are about murders, drug den busts, trafficking busts, or shootouts between rival gangs; but they're all about crime. Some names are highlighted with a red 'x' at the end of them with an obituary pinned underneath them. Others are highlighted without the red 'x', possibly indicating the perpetrator may still be alive. Different areas of the city have different clusters. Understandably, the worst areas are filled to the point of obfuscation with clippings. Areas like the one you're currently in have a more sparse distribution. There's always less crime in areas with more money and more people at all hours of the day.

This must all be related to him trying to hunt down your abductors. You begin to flip through clippings quickly, looking for any photographs of one man in particular, begging to find his name with a red 'x' beside it. You begin pouring over them with almost as much obsession as it took to make such a wall of madness. You have no idea how long it takes you to stumble upon it, but eventually you see it. That damn, wide-brimmed hat, that toothy scowl, and barely a visible face. It's not a good picture, clearly it's not a mugshot. The article doesn't even have a name. But you'd know that evil smile even if you hadn't met him a second time. Scribbled in black ink across the margin of the article clipping it says "taxi bastard"—a fitting name.

You read the article. Apparently he was caught with tons of illegal pornographic material produced using victims of trafficking, abduction, and even—you stop reading for a moment, unwilling to read that last word and wishing you had let Revenant murder him the first time he offered. Apparently a lot of the pornography also included the torture of victims, sometimes even leading to their death and dismemberment. He sold the copies to the worst perverted sickos looking for a quick fix. According to the article, the payload was revealed when copies were accidentally forwarded to multiple parties, including the police themselves. You know who did that. Even though his warehouse was raided the following day, he had vacated and disappeared. No record of his legal name was found, nor any signs of where he might have gone. The article concludes on the dark note that the police are parsing through each film, trying to document any victims and connect them to cold cases looking for closure. The number of victims estimated to be in the files is estimated to be in the hundreds.

As you try to stop reading, you realize the out of body experience you started having midway through that article. You don't feel your legs, but you are standing on them. You carefully walk back to the door, shutting it and locking out the many animals littered on the living room floor. You meander over to the balcony door and close it the rest of the way, intentionally leaving it unlocked for him. You make it up to his bed and fall into it, unwilling to try to keep walking. You feel so hot with stress and racing thoughts, you don't really hesitate to tear everything off and toss it to the side. You curl up in the pillows, turn off the lone lamp on the nightstand, and begin to bawl in the dark.

You're not even sure why you're crying, just that you can't help it. Your thoughts are tumbling uncontrollably, wondering what fate you might have met had Revenant not come for you. Your nose runs and pounds against its splint. Your eyes are sore in their sockets. Your surgical scars sting despite being fully healed. Your bare skin raises into goosebumps despite how hot it feels. What about everyone else? How could people like him exist? Why were you spared by fate but not the others?

You breathe slowly as the tears dry up. You lose emotional attachment to the concept of being the one that made it out. You feel as if you might die for some reason, but you have no reason to believe that. Still, you curl up tighter in the dark. Perhaps if you remain defenseless and hidden, no one will notice you. Perhaps you can be forgotten by everyone. No more heroes coming to save you, because no more villains will come to victimize you. You feel as if you're floating in a warm ocean, drowning but refusing to fight the current, able to breathe despite the weight on your chest.

Why are you treated so special despite being so cursed?

[its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons]

pairings: Lucifer x Fem!Reader, Mammon x Fem!Reader, Leviathan x Fem!Reader

warnings: tw abandonment (but it turns out okay, I promise), mentions of the act of birthing,

A/N: you came to the right place! as the second oldest of six children, I have some experience when it comes to pregnancy:) I hope you don't mind, nonny, but I'm gonna split this up into a few parts so I can do the dateables as well!

Lucifer

The moment you had shyly produced the positive pregnancy test from the pocket of your hoodie, it felt like Lucifer had entered into a fever dream filled with nursery designs, baby names, the expenses that pile up before the baby even arrives, researching human pregnancy, keeping you out of harm's way and healthy and happy...

So when you first stagger out of bed and rush to his bathroom, hand clamped over your mouth and one shaky hand on your slightly swollen tummy, Lucifer isn't surprised

He is very concerned, however. You had been so nervous to tell him of your pregnancy, you waited until the last moment before your bump was noticeable to tell him

That meant you had been suffering from all of these pregnancy side effects before he'd permanently moved you to sleep in his room

Lucifer hoists himself out of bed and pads into the bathroom, gathering up your hair, if any, into his fist and pulling your hunched form between his legs for support

You hate this feeling with a passion; throbbing stomach and a lump in your throat with little to no vertigo and tears rolling down your face as you try and catch your breath

You tell him it hurts, you ask him if he can take the pain away as your head rests on his chest, lashes fluttering with wooziness

Lightheadedness was unbearably common; you would suddenly grip his sleeve and he could watch the color drain from your face and your knees get shaky, body beginning to sway

He always catches you though, finding a place for you to sit or lie down and gather yourself

Tummy rubs become more common; the feeling of his hands against your bare tummy, spreading their warmth and nullifying the ache, allowing you to relax

He's extremely attentive as well and can tell whenever you need something

Water? Here's a cup sweetheart, remember, you're hydrating and eating for two people!

Craving something? Chocolate? Fried pickles? Chips of some kind? sweets? He's stockpiled anything you could want and locked it away just for you.

I feel like Lucifer would want your baby to be a little girl. A little princess he can carry on his shoulders and spoil with his love and gifts.

Satan ruined him for having another baby boy, but if that's how the cards fall, he certainly wouldn't mind. Unfortunately, he'd be constantly walking on eggshells, afraid he'll make your little boy into another rebellious child

That's the last thing he wants

Lucifer does his best to keep his kid away from Satan and Belphie and out of the 'Formerly Anti-Lucifer League', but sometimes you're taking a nap or out shopping with Asmodeus, and Satan and his brothers manage to coerce the little one into their shenanigans

One thing is for sure though, even if Lucifer didn't want any kids and the creation of one was unplanned, he would never ever turn you away

He's very responsible and does anything in his power to make the pregnancy as easy and happy as possible

On the day you are to give birth, he's a mess

He has already sweat through 3 shirts by the time the IV has been secured to your hand

Everything he says doesn't come without a stutter

He's squeezing your hand and kissing your hair during labor, trying to distract you from the burn between your legs as much as he can

You probably need extra stitches from baby's horns ngl

Definitely cries before the baby is even put in your arms

Refuses to let his brothers come and see you, "They can wait until we go home."

Lucifer is Smitten™

He smooches the tiredness under your eyes and tells you to get some rest

Surprisingly, he enjoys a lot of the names from the human world you discuss and will most likely pick one of those

But if it's a girl, her name is Lilith. I'm sorry MC, your input is invalid at this time

You don't regret 'final day in the devildom sex' at all when you get to witness the Avatar of Pride reduced to tears when the nurse puts the child in his arms

P-P-Pregnant? MC, ya better be jokin'...

Mammon

You weren't, judging by the pregnancy test(s) clutched in your fist

He's not mad at you, he's not upset, (in fact, he's the happiest he's ever been), he just scared

Broken Condom Victim™

He loved you just a bit too hard last week...

but let's be real here, HIS MC, carrying HIS baby?

That's like the highest level of ownership on his lovely human you could get! Levi, Asmo, Beel, Lucifer, everyone would be SOOOO JEALOUS!!!

AND

He gets to have a little one running around again!

You saw how sweet he was to babified Satan in the obey me anime premier! He LOVES little kids and nothing would make him happier than someone to play with (besides MC of course) that wouldn't make fun of him for messing up and being silly!

AND

You're so pretty!!

I mean, ya were always pretty, but somethin' about ya is different and yer even more beautiful than before somehow!

Mammon said, his entire face the shade of a pomegranate

Pregnancy glow is REAL

Asmo agrees, after stealing you away from an extremely overprotective mammon and hiding in the attic to chat without disturbance (mammon)

But as much as YOU know he would be the BEST father, comments from his brothers continue to drag him down and the evenings he cried into your shoulder became more and more frequent as your pregnancy progresses

Mammon, as we all know, is, in fact, a tiddy man

He likes to touch and squeeze them, and just gently hold them while cuddling or even browsing in a store, he'd just come up behind you and touch your boobs

(also, mammon likes all sizes, so if you have next to no tiddy like me, you'll be at his mercy as well. those with the large honkers, however, watch yourself)

Now that there's a miracle growing in your tummy, other parts of your body are preparing for its arrival, including your chest

Swelling, swelling, soreness, growing and darkening of the nipples, and swelling make it so Mammon can no longer touch your pretty tiddies :(((

(grammarly didn't like that word)

On the day mammon snack size was to be born, mammon is silent but extremely fidgety

It was early in the morning when you'd shaken him awake like, "mammoney, I'm going into labor" and he was out of bed and out the door with your luggage before you finished blinking

After grabbing your DDD's and you, he carries you down to the car (what dysfunctional family doesn't have a car? a nice one (Mercedes, Audi, you get the idea) for lucifer and a Volkswagon bus or something for his siblings to share) and drives quickly, but very carefully drives to the hospital, holding your hand the whole way.

He covers your eyes when they put the IV in, just in case you're squeamish, and rubs your arms as the drugs begin to take effect and there's a little fear in your eyes at the thought of pushing an entire human/demon being out of your coochie

He assures you and never lets go of your hand no matter how long you're in labor

When it's all over with and you are resting in your hospital bed waiting for the doctors to finish the Apgar tests and give you your baby

Mammon is speechless as the nurse places the baby in your arms

That's HIS KID!!

Immediately starts crying

The little horns poking out of the blanket? Those look just like his!!

Judging by the bit of hair on it's head, it looks like the baby will have hair like yours

If it's a baby boy, he thinks it should be named "Mammon II" but you just giggle and remind him of the deal he made with lucifer long ago, that his first born child, no matter the gender, had to have 'Lucifer' somewhere in their name

Human names are dumb, except for yours of course, so he searches for suitable demon names

The last thing he wants is a kid named Lucifer, so that will be the kid's middle name

He really regrets his past decisions now

Leviathan

"Levi?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"I'm pregnant."

*leviathan has been KO'd*

No joke, this man is literally floored and didn't wake up for a while and you were afraid you had just slain the fucking Lord of Shadows

Some Henry you were

You had to call Lucifer in to wake him up because he was still flat on the floor a half and hour later

Mammon is more that happy to tip a bucket of ice water on the face of the son of a bitch that impregnated HIS MC

Levi wakes up and pounces on you, gripping you tightly by the arms

"You're k-kidding r-right?"

Him? A father?

Uhhhhhhh

Unfortunately, Leviathan.exe has stopped working, try again in two thousand years

I hate to say this, but he definitely detaches himself for a while until his brothers, especially Asmodeus, literally beat him into shape

He comes back to you, a little bruised and sobbing, but not from the beating he just received

He's so sorry he neglected you! He's such a horrible demon, undeserving of your welcoming nature

He's gonna be the worst dad, and he's not good enough for you, and his kid will hate him just like everyone else does, he doesn't deserve you, he's so sorry for making you suffer the side effects and feel all alone,

Sir, I-

FALSE

It's your turn to shake some sense into him, reminding him that he would be the. best. dad!!

Not to mention the fact that you were just happy he realized his mistakes and came back to you

He begs you to sleep in his bed tub with him for security, and you have to admit his tail is very comforting

Levi does extensive research on human pregnancy and now at the dinner table, instead of talking about the latest slice of life anime he'd been watching, he's just spouting random pregnancy facts and you're laughing so hard it brings you to tears

When the weird dreams and vivid nightmares happen, Levi is right behind you, rubbing your swollen tummy, and letting you talk about them

A lot of them were about him and about your future child

Most of them were about how they got hurt in some way, either that or YOU got hurt and the baby died

These, more often than not, brought you to tears and stress you out, but Levi is right there, okay? Nothing can hurt you, nor would he let anything happen to you on his watch

Learns how to massage you (safely) to reduce stress

Definitely talks to the baby a lot

Levi begged you to be induced so the birth was safe and not a sudden occasion and you agree

On the day the doctor recommended, you arrived at the hospital and got down to business

Levi didn't really want to be in the room with you, but he knew he had to for your sake and he'd played a few birth simulators from both perspectives and you really needed him

Kinda sits there awkwardly comforting you and encouraging you, holding your hand and caressing your cheeks, a bit flushed from exertion and tears

Listen

If the baby is a boy, his name will be Henry and that's final

If it's a girl, he doesn't really care, as long as you don't name her 'mammonia' or something dumb like that

definitely crashes your hospital bed to snuggle until the baby is ready

cries when the baby wraps its extremely small digits around one of his own

also at the little horns protruding from its head

and the tuft of purple in its head

Also Smitten™

He's so excited to get home and show off his beautiful baby to his brothers and then formulate a plan to raise the kid to live and breathe TSL just like his daddy <3

--

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[mimzy-writing-online]

Writing Toph Beifong, Advice from a Blind Writer

I’m Mimzy, an actual visually impaired writer and blogger who talks a lot about writing blind characters accurately and sensitively. A while back someone sent me an anon asking how to write Toph more accurately and sensitively.

Anonymous asked: Hi there! Your blog has been super-helpful already - I thought I knew a bit about writing with blind characters, but it turns out there was a lot to learn - but this is more specific. I'm writing a The Last Airbender fanfiction, and one of the characters is Toph. I think the fandom has done a fairly good job of respecting her blindness, but what are some things you'd like to see when people write her? I want to represent the character as best as possible; thanks in advance!

It’s taken a while for me to answer because I have a lot of thoughts about it as both a blind writer and someone who has read a lot of atla fanfiction. So here we go:

Before we get started, I want to mention some things: 

One: I have an entire series for writing blind characters that continues to grow with time and the most up-to-date version can be found pinned as the top post on my blog. There will be a time-stamp for when the post was last edited and a long series of links to all relevant posts on the subject.

Here’s a quick link to that post, but again, all you have to do is click my blog url and you’ll find it immediately.

Two: I’ve noticed something amazing about the atla fandom and I would like to thank you for it. I’ve noticed a lot of bloggers have taken to writing image descriptions for both the fanart and memes you post in the fandom, whether it’s OP including the description or another blogger adding it themselves. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a fandom so consistently doing this and that’s incredible. Realizing how many different blogs were picking up this habit has warmed my heart.

I’d like to see writers use her other senses. There’s soooo so much more to her O&M (Orientation and Mobility) than earth sense. 

Beyond sight and earth bending, there’s hearing, touch, smell, taste, sense of direction, hot vs cold, sense of pain, sense of where your body parts are in relation to the rest of you, sense of internal well-being, etc. Before Toph had mastery of her earth bending, she had to have mastery of those too.

Toph also must have very strong opinions about certain smells, sounds, tastes, and textures. Toph is opinionated about everything, and when so much of your understanding of the world depends on senses that most people are ignoring in favor of some other sense you don’t have, it gets frustrating. I’m sure that tree looks pretty but the smell is terrible. Who cares if this fabric looks pretty, it’s scratchy, do. not. like. at. all.

But also in positive ways too. Oh, that flower arrangement looks bland and monochromatic? Who cares, it smells sweet and honey-like. Weird dark cavern with high ceiling and no light? The harmonics are awesome.

Every character probably has a certain sight or image they’re particularly fond of: Katara watching snow fall, or Aang enjoying how small the world looks from up on Appa, or Zuko enjoying the sunrise every morning during meditation. In that line, Toph must have some things personal to her that she enjoys.

I imagine she likes the taste of foods familiar to her childhood, the smell of whatever flowers grew around her home, and the texture of certain kinds of dirt Example: loose dirt probably isn’t the best for seeing, but I think she would enjoy how it feels to run her fingers through it or maybe enjoy the way it softens her perception of the world the same way sighted people like to see colorful, bright lights reflecting off puddles in the middle of rain.

If you struggle with this, that’s okay. I recommend taking some time to think about it for yourself, to find what tastes and smells and textures and sounds you enjoy the most, what makes you feel safe and at home, what brings you comfort, and relate that back to Toph.

In a Modern AU, I want to see Toph have a cane. Even in a Modern AU with bending included in the world building, I think Toph would benefit from having a cane.

The cane has a lot more function than bumping into things. A big part is that it signals to others that you are very obviously blind. Which is a big deal because sighted people are really, really bad at spotting the blind person.

(psst, please stop saying ‘the blank look in her eyes’ because I swear to god it’s been killing me inside for years.)

Also, even in an AU with bending, I think Toph would like the advantage of tapping her cane to create a stronger, more distinct vibration than a small shifting of her weight on her feet. It would have more control.

You could give Toph a guide animal, buuuuuuut, um, Toph is not a guide dog person. Like, there are some people who definitely prefer a guide dog, and some people who definitely prefer a cane, and some who definitely prefer no mobility device at all. Toph does not have the vibes of someone who wants to be both responsible and reliant on an animal when she’s so insistent that she can take care of herself on her own. Toph likes animals, but not that much.

Although, yeah, only 10% of the blind community use mobility devices, so cane and guide dog users are the minority of the blind community, but I stand by the vibe that Toph would love the independence of a cane. Also, it’s almost never ever done. Modern AUs never seem to touch much on Toph’s O&M skills with canes or guide dogs.

I wrote a whole post on everything you need to know about canes, what orientation and mobility is, how you learn O&M, what kind of canes exist, how to use them, how to describe the sensory input a cane gives you, and everything I know about guide dogs from past research.

Honestly, you could give Toph (or any blind character) a cane in any AU, because I fully stand by the theory that canes are a piece of technology that has been invented, lost, and reinvented again and again.

I wrote “I found a piece of lost blindness history” a few months ago after a visit to see my grandparents. My grandmother told me how her blind aunt found a way to write letters by hand to send to my grandmother when she was a child. I speculated on how the long cane has probably been invented and then lost and then reinvented over and over again in history, as well as giving a little history on the growing popularity of guide dogs in the 20th century following World War 1.

About the “blank look in her eyes,” I have a theory to the exact cause and nature of Toph’s blindness.

I know it’s common to think that the milky green color of her eyes is why she’s blind, though I’m not sure how many realize that milky green color is caused by severe cataracts. At least, cataracts is what I assume to be the reason for the color of her eyes. However, people with cataracts still have some remaining sense of light and shadow perception.

Only 9% of the blind community is completely blind, seeing absolutely nothing. The rest have some remaining vision, even if that’s only light and shadow perception or the perception of vague movement.

The percentage of people born completely blind is even smaller.

Toph says that she’s never been able to see, which would lead me to guess that the initial cause of her blindness was a defect with the visual processing part of her brain. I also theorize that the cataracts developed slowly over her very formative years and that she likely wasn’t born with them. For that reason, I think it would have taken a few weeks or months for her parents to realize there was something wrong with her eyes.

Here is a post about the developmental years of blind children and how their life would differ from both sighted children and from someone who went blind as an adult.

What is it like to see nothing?

It’s a concept that sighted people struggle with and I completely understand. I myself didn’t understand the concept of “nothing” until someone explained it as this:

“Imagine trying to see out the back of your head.”

Which, genuinely, imagine that. Try that. Because here’s what I found. There’s no part of my body that can help perceive that. I don’t have eyes there, nor do I have a part of my brain that can process that. Because of this, there is no sense of light or dark, no shape or shadow or movement or depth that I can perceive. There is nothing.

And honestly, it gives me a headache trying to think too much about it.

Toph doesn’t see black, doesn’t have a mental image of it. When people talk about light and dark, Toph has nothing to base the concept on. The closest relation she has to that is silence versus sound, or her earth sense when she’s in the air on Appa versus when she’s on solid ground. But it’s not the same.

I would like to examine the way the show tried to describe Toph’s earth sense, that black void with ripples of white stretching from her feet and outwards. Television is a visual medium so of course their explanation of Toph’s earth sense would be visual, but that’s not what it’s actually like in her head. More accurately, it’s like touching the back of your head to something and feeling what’s solid behind it and what has more give. A wall versus a pillow for example. Slamming your hand on a flimsy table and feeling it rattle under your palm. And for someone so adept at using that sense, she feels not just the table surface under her palm, but the individual rattles down the four legs, how uneven those rattles are because the legs are carved decoratively instead of solid planks, and how the foot of each leg bumps against the ground, and how the floor vibrates in response to the impact, which she feels in both her feet and hand. 

About Toph’s Relationship with Her Parents

It’s not something I see touched on much. There’s been a lot of focus on Zuko and Azula’s relationship with their parents and the abuse, as well as exploration of Sokka and Katara’s trauma with losing their mother, and Sokka looking up to his warrior father while Katara struggles with her abandonment issues.

Please don’t take this as a critique, because there are a few valid reasons for this and I would like to give you some insight on how to explore Toph’s relationship with her parents.

For starters, the show had a lot more reason to focus on Zuko and Azula’s parents, with Fire Lord Ozai being the primary villain and Zuko’s greatest abuser, and Azula’s dependent worship of her father in response to Ursa’s neglect and favoritism of Zuko, which was likely Ursa’s response to Ozai’s favoritism of Azula. Their parents are huge driving motivators for why Zuko and Azula make the decisions and mistakes they do, why they are at one point in the show the villains themselves. (And why I think Azula should get a redemption arc and some healing.)

Katara’s trauma of losing her mother and blaming herself is a huge factor in both her response to the war, her relationship with her bending, and her motherly nature with her friends. The show has to explore that. Just as it has to explore Sokka’s problems with toxic masculinity in response to being the man of his village, and his desire to be a great warrior and leader like the father he idolizes. 

The show needs to explore that to make the plot move forward, and it benefits from these being two sibling sets with different responses to their upbringing and different sibling dynamics, setting them up as foils for each other.

The show also wouldn’t benefit by giving Lao and Poppy Beifong more screen time. Their established character were two nobles who kept as far out of the war as possible and prospered monetarily for it. Poppy was polite and demure and Lao liked to lead the conversation. Unless the gAang decided to return to Toph’s home, those characters had no reason to pop up anywhere in the show. And if they did, they would be a hinder to Toph and her part in the plot as both Aang’s earth bending teacher and as the greatest earth bender in the world, tossing Fire Nation soldiers eight ways to Sunday. 

So truly, I understand that there’s not a whole lot of canon material (comparatively) to go off of when developing this, but I will offer some insight on what is there in canon.

Toph’s relationship with her parents is explored in that it maps out why Toph doesn’t want to be mothered by Katara, why she wants to prove how independent she is, but there’s very little on screen interaction between Toph and her parents.

Toph deeply loves her parents. I think that plays into why she doesn’t want Katara mothering her, because she has a wonderful mother at home who she loves and wants to better understand her, but she had no friends growing up and no older sister, which are the roles she needs and wants Katara to fill. If Toph wanted a mother figure, she would have latched onto Katara. Look at how Zuko never sought out another mother figure but did find a father figure in Iroh as he began to heal from his childhood trauma and separate his self image from his father’s acceptance.

Toph is in a complicated situation, she loves her parents but the way they’re raising her is hurting her in the long run. But Toph can see that their actions are because of their immense love for her. She can see how they would do anything for her. While she never had any examples of how other noble children were treated by their parents, who might have been distant or disinterested or always away for their social and work lives, she was remarkably loved by her parents. Her father put careful thought into her tutors and checked in on her progress. Her mother feared for Toph’s emotional state when she was kidnapped (even if she was incorrect about how Toph would respond), showing genuine empathy for her daughter.

I think their over protective nature became the love language Toph best understood them by, and part of her reasoning for not revealing how capable she was, was because she wanted to keep experiencing that love and care for as long as she could. But it’s not a love language she would put up with from anyone else.

I would like to point out Toph’s genuine excitement to see her mom again in the season finale of Book Two, how badly Toph wants her mom to understand and accept her for who she is.

My thoughts on what Toph can’t do: read, swim, see in the sand, fight things mid-air.

For how incredibly powerful the show makes Toph with her earth bending and the O&M she taught herself through it, they do touch on some of her weaknesses when they come up and find a useful way to showcase them.

The Serpent’s Pass was an excellent example of Toph’s vulnerability in water. From her fear of not being able to see on Katara’s ice bridge to not being able to swim and needing Suki to save her, Toph’s weaknesses putting her in danger added to the excitement and “sitting on the edge of your seat” feeling while watching the episode without turning her into someone who was helpless. She was just in a position where her normal defenses were useless.

Just like the earth benders in the metal prison in the ocean, or Katara having little water in the middle of a desert where her friends needed that water to survive more than she needed it to fight, making her vulnerable later in the show when the insect-wasp things attacked. Just like fire benders being weaker at night, or powerless during a solar eclipse, or a sighted person being lost in the dark. Those were just situations in which the tools you were accustomed to relying on could no longer help you or were taken away.

The show was clever in that it didn’t make her inability to read a direct threat to her safety, but rather as a clever plot device for her to be alone when the sand banders attacked and have to choose between fighting them to save Appa, or holding back an entire fricking building by the tiniest spire on its very top from falling into a void leading to the spirit world. It also showed her weakness to not being able to see or fight as well in sand. Which the show later made an effort to show how she’d improved on that problem in Book Three when she was surrounded by nothing but sand at Ember Island.

Like improving her ability to see in the sand, I would like to see a character teach Toph to swim, or at least float, so that she never feels helpless again. If she took the initiative to improve her sand bending so much, I’m sure she would have learn to swim eventually.

And on the note of reading, I’ve seen some speculation on how Toph could learn to read, whether it’s through using ink that has some percentage of earth mixed in, or developing the sensitivity to feel out the different weight, consistency, and texture of ink on paper. 

I would like to bring your attention to Louis Braille, the blind Frenchman who invented Braille while studying at  the Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles, the world’s very first school for the blind in Paris France (established 1785). Previously Louis was learning to read through a method in which each letter was pressed into the paper to leave an imprint that someone could feel out with just their fingers.

Louis Braille concluded that raised lettering was impractical because-

1.       It is difficult to read, the letters had to be printed in huge font to be fully felt out and printed on thick paper.

2.       Thick paper means higher quality, more expensive. Larger font means more paper is needed for a single text.

3.       This made it inaccessible due to expense and the sheer volume of a text.

4.       If today’s Braille books are hard to access and giant compared to traditional books, I can’t imagine how inaccessible those raised letter books really were.

The subject of Braille, the start and controversial near downfall to  Institut National des Jeunes Aveugles were discussed in a post about writing a blind character during the Victorian Era.

I’ve heard others complain in the past about fantasy universes in which a sighted person invents a solution to allow the blind to read, when the most effective and longest lived method was invented by a blindman over two hundred years ago and is the standard taught in schools today.

And while I couldn’t easily explain it or how it works because I can neither read Braille nor speak Chinese, I can tell you that Chinese Braille exists and works only slightly differently from the Braille western languages use. So, again, modern AUs especially would benefit from enabling Toph to read Braille and use a computer and phone with screen reader.

But just as easily you could choose not to have her learn to read but rather have sighted people read things aloud to her. Whether it’s in a professional setting as an adult having an assistant who reads and writes for her, or as a cute, fluffy little moment between Toph and another character. Both are just as genuine to the blindness experience.

Blind Jokes

If you ever get around to reading my post about blind jokes, I’d like you to remember that it’s primarily written for people writing original characters and that Toph canonically makes blind jokes, so to take away from that would not be true to her character.

Does Toph’s Earth Sense Negate her Blindness?

It’s a question I’ve seen raised before and discussed by both abled, disabled, and blind people. There are multiple perspectives on it, but my own take on it is that Toph’s earth bending does not negate her blindness, but rather functions very much like the process of learning to use a cane.

She had a tool, a teacher, and she learned to use that tool. Instead of a cane, it was seismic perception and her teacher were blind badger-moles. She spent years learning to earth bend as they do and then continued to take it to new heights as she explored fighting with it on her terms against sighted fighters.

Come to think about it, I would love to see Toph teach another visually impaired or blind earth bender who to see and bend as she does.

Is Toph Good Blindness Representation?

This question was posed to me in the comments of my master post, and my answer was something like this: “Toph is good representation, but she can't be the only type of representation we get. She's the best we had 15 years ago, but there are a million ways to nuance the blindness experiences. Toph's experience being born blind, having very over protective parents, being a small girl in a patriarical and wealth influenced society, having no friends growing up. Those are all great aspects of blindness to show, but there is so much more to explore. As for her blindness and whether or not that's negated, that's also nuanced. She has limits, she's not all-powerful, but she is the best earth bender hands down. More or less, I love Toph, she's a great character, give me like a million more blind characters who are completely different from her.”

I want to see accurate and well-written blind characters become much more common in modern media, and that’s why I started this blog. So if you decide you want to write your own blind character from scratch, feel free to come back and look at some of my other stuff.

End Notes:

I want to thank the anon who sent the original question because it never occurred to me how much the atla fandom would benefit from a post like this. 

You should follow my blog. Along with advice about writing blind characters, I write general writing advice and answer questions about writing, college, plot development, character analysis, and living with blindness. I curate writing advice from fellow writeblrs, write my own image descriptions for writing memes, post about mental health and working/living with ADHD, disabilities outside of blindness, and LGBTQA+ topics. 

[chancedarling]

"None of this makes sense. And if we don't know what the parameters are, then it's probably safer to assume the..."

He toys with the notion of the next word. As though he's reluctant to say it. Of course the obvious insert is 'the worst'. But he's not going to say it out loud. Let her buy into his own nervousness. Just as she probably thinks he's buying into her whole dimulation theory.

But - it definitely looks as though he's struck a nerve. The possibility (and probably actual liklehood) that there was real danger here has sent her spinning. It's all well and good being a conspiracy theorist, but if you couldn't assimilate all of the possibilities - then that tended to leave the theory rather flat. Redundant and very difficult to argue rationally. And if Darcy wants her nutso spiel to be taken seriously by anyone, then it needs that rationality to be even halfway convincing.

"Yeah... I dunno why anyone might have signed up for this, but it seems as though whoever has put this together has... Vast resources. Who knows what they might have offered people to get them to volunteer? Might not have even been the same thing for everyone."

Brows furrowing as he speaks - another facade of serious consideration and thought... Just adding to the 'rationality' of his own input.

"Like I said... I'm easy. Gamer. But... What about you? Anything that might have tempted you into something like this?"

it seems as though she's shaken enough at the apparently novel prospect of not being safe (well, duh?) - that she just offers the small thank you before busying herself with the task at hand. And as Darcy continues mission 'brick poking', Chance is once again turning back to the grass and undergrowth nearby. There doesn't seem to be a handy tree close enough that might be large enough to hide a handy door, so he has his eyes to the ground again, little stomps with his foot... All bringing back the same sound. No hollows. No handy handles. Nada.

"Aye. Dark. Ominous. Like, why couldn't it be a cheery little place with a 'welcome' sign on the door."

He's looking back over his shoulder at her. Then up at the windows. Then back at her...

...no.

He blinks.

What in the actual everloving feckin' fuck was this?

Because she's there one minute and then. ...Fading? Like someone turning down a dimmer switch. Not like, ghosty woo, all transparent and shit. But fading into the shadows.

Another blink and he's rubbing his eyes. Did she just fall down a hole and he's been wandering this creepy place for too long without a nap? He might be imagining it. Or he might be overly tired. Or that bump on the head from pulling Zaid out of the water might have done more of a number on him than he originally thought. But he thinks he sees the slightest - shimmer... In the shadows. Like a heat haze but... Also not at the same time...

And he's standing there trying to process. Mouth probably agape when he hears the shriek. Which just disorients him even more. Because she probably fell in a hole. Yes. That's the sensible explanation for the sudden disappearance. But the sound doesn't come from somewhere - down. It most definitely came from - up.

Gaze traversing the tower, he finally lands back on the window and... She's there. Teetering on a small ledge and calling down to him.

Well, shite.

This was a whole load of bollocks he hadn't expected.

"Darcy? Darcy are you okay!? Just... Don't move!"

His voice comes out a little frantic, and this time it's not faked. He's not entirely bothered if she plummets (though that would be the end of the amusing crazy interlude), but there's no one else here to witness and he doesn't think anyone will believe that she fell from a tower that is impossible to climb.

Teleport?

Maybe she actually found the right brick?

"I don't know what I saw. You were there..."

A gesture.

"and then up there!"

Another wave of his hands toward her current location.

"Where were you standing? Was there a button or a click or..."

Raising his voice and hoping it's carrying well enough. He's not sure what he believes right now, but somehow she's managed to travel a long ass way up a 'no entry' building in... Seconds. Less than. So sure, why not teleport? Weirder shit was happening around here.

He's rushing over to the base, approximately where she'd been only moments before, eyes scanning to see if he can see anything that's triggered her transportation. Some kind of device or... Well he really doesn't know what he's looking for.

He could go to get help. But that would take time and by the time he got back, she could be a pile of jam on the ground.

"I can't see anything!"

Chance didn't refute it. He didn't start getting up into her face about how wrong she was, he didn't call her crazy and he certainly didn't give her that look that suggested he was humoring her but really, he was just judging her and giving her the chance to ran just so he could laugh into her face.

No, he was fully listening, Darcy could tell. He was at least giving it a proper thought while she was explaining it, and she was already glad of that.

But then instead of gently pushing back on the idea, he expanded it. He asked some questions that she didn't really think about before, or not from angles that she should have had.

What if they really were in danger, that it wasn't all just protected like she originally assumed, and all the bigger things, like Maria, actually weren't planted. If they could get into real danger and they wouldn't be just saved somehow? And why others would sign up for something like this?

She looked at the scar Chance pointed out, thought of Anika and her probably broken ankle, the young girl Tej and her helped to the shore, the way Maria exploded into salt bits and pieces. "That-- that makes no sense, Chance," she said, shaking her head. "You ask why would others sign up in general, but why-- why would anyone sign up if they sign away their safety? If they have a chance of never actually getting out of here? Or if they potentially losing a leg in the process? Why-- why would anyone want to risk everything for-- we don't even fully understand what for?"

She was questioning, but her voice was shaking here and there, because for the first time it really hit her that maybe she wasn't as safe as she really thought she was. That maybe she really could get hurt and there isn't any signed agreements protecting her in the end?

What if Maria actually wasn't planted, what if she was a real human being?

Darcy quickly pushed the thought out of her mind

- she couldn't couldn't couldn't think of that -

and instead turned her focus on the wall and the bricks in front of her. "Thank you. For-- for the suggestion," she said, her voice back to even, but not actually looking at Chance. She'd freak out if she looked at him. That genuine expression, the way he just looked concerned for Darcy... she already had her heart in her throat, she couldn't deal with that expression of his.

So bricks it was.

Not that she found anything, really. She was certain there had to be a way in, and Chance agreed, There had to be something inside there. But he was probably right, they weren't going to find a way in that easily.

Darcy followed his gaze up, up, up to the top of the tower as she took several steps back. "It looks so dark up there," she pointed out. Some of the antenna was visible and over the tree skyline, but the windows up there, that part where people actually could still stand, was covered in darkness.

A darkness that felt like crept down, crept around Darcy's insides and pulled on her. Darcy couldn't explain why, but she closed her eyes for a second

and then

she was pulled

up

up

UP

into a welcoming warmth.

And when she opened her eyes again, she was actually right in front of the dark window that Chance and her were looking at, the darkness practically enveloping her. "What the fuck?!" she shrieked and then took a step back - only to be hit with her feet halfway stepping onto the edge of the tower with the next step she was taking and jumping back up towards the windows with another surprised noise she would most likely deny if she could.

Instead she practically blended into the window for now, turning and then pressing her back against it while she let her heartbeat slow down - except it wasn't really doing anything. Cause if Chance was right and they all really signed agreements that they were all here for injuries too, she was way too high to not break her neck if she fell.

"Chance...?" she called down, weakly at first, and then after clearing her throat, sounding much more confident, "Chance? Please tell me you're still down there and you saw me teleport up here too!" She did this once already, with the woman who keeps calling her crazy, but it was still mind-boggling, for her to experience it all over again.

[whats-k-popping]

Cravings

Summary: The pressure makes him gag, dry and grating against his already irritated throat. His back is fully arched in pain, tears mixing in with his saliva puddles on the floor. All the force eventually expels thin streams of bile into the mix as well. In these moments of sheer agony, Seokjin can only think about how Yoongi will be stuck cleaning the mess.

Pairing: YoonJin - Married AU. Pregnant Seokjin.

Words: 3969

Warnings: Emeto || MPreg || Romantic Relationship between Members || Graphic Descriptions of Illness || Mentions of Shame/Guilt || Morning Sickness

Inspiration: if you're accepting request, can i request something? a mpreg story for yoonjin with seokjin experiencing morning sickness .. stuff like that. i dont have any specific scenes in mind,i just love to read smth about that !

Dedication: I'd like to dedicate this work to the anon who made the request. Thank you so so much for the request. I meant to just write a scene or two and it turned into this. I'll admit, I got a bit carried away with it. I loved building and writing their relationship so much, I apologize if it takes away from the emeto experience. If you just want to read the emeto portion, skip to the second cut and read from there. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!! <3

"What do you want for dinner, Jagiya?" Yoongi asks, one hand scrolling through delivery menus on his phone and the other rubbing his husband's noticeably round bump. The local news is playing on the TV, but neither one is paying attention. Seokjin's been resting on Yoongi’s lap all afternoon. The younger's legs have been asleep for probably too long, he shakes them every so often just to make sure they still work.

Seokjin turns toward the question. He shoves his face into Yoongi's stomach, batting at the drawstrings of the younger's hoodie. "Just get whatever you want," He says, but Yoongi can tell by the tone it's not what he means. 

Yoongi wonders if Seokjin's upset with him. He knows he didn't do anything wrong, but those hormonal mood swings have been kicking Seokjin's ass since he entered the second trimester, and Yoongi gets the short end of the stick each time. He readies himself for another pointless and irrelevant lecture. He can't in good conscience be mad about it. The man he loves most in the world is carrying his first child. Literally, fifty percent of Yoongi is living inside of the older man. And Seokjin’s taking such good care to ensure the health of their first born. Yoongi would be a fool to let a few hormone-fueled lectures sway his admiration.

Still, he wants to tread lightly. Because even though Yoongi doesn't care about the mood swings and the tiny tantrums, Seokjin does. Despite how many times Yoongi assures him that he understands and that he's not upset, Seokjin always feels so guilty afterwards. Guilty to the point that he weeps and sobs and convinces himself that he's a terrible husband and he's sure he's going to be a terrible father. It's just another hormone induced mood swing, Yoongi knows, but that kind of stress is not good for the baby. So Yoongi aims to avoid it whenever possible. 

Yoongi moves his hand away from Seokjin's stomach and into his hair, threading gently through the tangled strands. "You don't have a preference?" He asks again, gently with no hints of judgment. He knows Seokjin's not usually a picky person. But he's never known Seokjin to not want input on dinner. 

"Nope. I'll eat whatever you eat." Seokjin latches himself onto Yoongi's waist. He's needy, clingy. He wants Yoongi's attention, but he's too shy to ask. It’s another type of mood swing. But Yoongi actually loves this one. 

Yoongi figures there's something on the tip of Seokjin's tongue. He wants to say something. He assumes it's a dinner recommendation. But Seokjin wants Yoongi to pry it out of him. They've played this game before. Yoongi's had more success prying open sealed clam shells than getting his hyung to ask for something. 

It's times like these that Yoongi falls back on reverse psychology. Seokjin has a diverse palette, he rarely ever turns down food. But Yoongi knows a few things that Seokjin prefers not to eat. "I'm in the mood for fried tofu," he starts. 

Seokjin pulls a face of disgust. He hates the texture of tofu. Even more so since the pregnancy has been messing with his taste buds. Yoongi sees Seokjin's displeasure and he's satisfied with the response. "Alright. So you don't want tofu. What do you want then?" 

Seokjin sits up to face Yoongi on the couch, he's fiddling with his hands in his lap like he's in trouble, like he's guilty of some high profile crime. The older man pouts as he explains, "I don't want anything…" 

Yoongi knows where this is going, "But…" He spares a small glance to Seokjin's belly urging him to continue. 

"But," Seokjin palms his lower belly, "Agi is hungry for a hot pot." Seokjin's made a habit of blaming their baby on all of his cravings. A hot pot in the middle of July isn't even the most out-there request he's made in the past few months.

Yoongi laughs out loud, bellowing laughter that makes Seokjin feel just a tad less guilty. "Jagiya, you know it's like 33 degrees today, right? We're in the middle of a heat wave." 

Seokjin's quick to defend himself, "I tried to tell her that. But she already doesn't listen to me." He jokes, keeping his palm over his bump. "She's really set on a hot pot." 

Yoongi takes one of Seokjin's hands and kisses the knuckles. They’d received the sex of the baby just a few days prior and Yoongi was over the moon at the confirmation. He secretly wanted a daughter. He wants a little princess to spoil. But he wouldn’t have been disappointed with a boy either. He’s just happy to be a father. But when Seokjin refers to the little one in his belly as their daughter, it activates some primal paternal instincts he's never needed before. He can’t help but give in.

"Then I guess we're having hot pot," he picks up his phone and goes back to scrolling through delivery options, "does Agi have somewhere specific in mind?" 

"Actually…" Seokjin's back to fiddling with his fingers and it pulls Yoongi's attention back, "Agi wants it homemade. And with beef. Please." 

"What a little diva she's becoming," Yoongi chuckles with a wide smile. He wants to keep the mood light, he wants Seokjin to know it's okay to have cravings and it's okay to ask for them. Even if he wants a boiling meal on a boiling day. 

But he's only ever cooked hot pot once before. And he doesn't remember it tasting that good. Nothing like his mother's homemade hot pot. Not to mention that he doesn't know if they have all the ingredients in the kitchen. Their schedules keep them plenty busy. When was the last time they were in a grocery store?

Seokjin seems to sense Yoongi's uneasiness, "You don't have to, Yoongi. I know you're tired. I'm really okay with whatever you want to order." He looks down like he's talking to the baby, "Maybe we can have a hot pot when the rainy season comes around. It's not too far away." Seokjin's already shame-spiraling for asking. Yoongi will absolutely not allow it.  

"Jagiya, love. Look at me," Yoongi lifts Seokjin's chin with a finger to meet his eyes. "If Agi wants a hot pot, then Agi gets a hot pot. Made from scratch by her second favorite appa. With the finest beef we probably have in the kitchen." 

Seokjin's floored by the suave charisma of the one and only Min Yoongi. He's seen it a handful of times, specifically since they found out he was pregnant. It’s a different kind of sentiment than the usual calm, cool, collected, little-rough-around-the-edges Min Yoongi. In these moments, there are no walls up between them. Yoongi has nothing to prove, nothing to hide. He knows this is Yoongi's most raw, most pure expression of love. He swoons. "Thank you, Jagi. I'll make it up to you." 

"No repayment necessary, love. Remember this is for Agi." He stands off the couch, ready to take on the task, "And what Agi wants, Agi gets. Every. Single. Time." 

"And if Agi wants kisses…" Seokjin puckers his lips while his cheeks flood pink. 

Yoongi smirks, taking a few steps to close the distance between them. He runs a knuckle against Seokjin's jaw line and leans in. He can feel Seokjin's nervous breath against his nose. He can see the rapid pulse in Seokjin's neck. "What Agi wants," he whispers, lips centimeters away from Seokjin's. The older man quivers in anticipation. 

Yoongi drops to his knees in one swift motion and lifts the hem of Seokjin's shirt, exposing the protruding bump. He presses a kiss just below Seokjin's belly button, "Agi gets." He finishes with his lips still pressed to Seokjin's flesh. Yoongi scatters a few more kisses just for good measure before Seokjin swats him away. 

"Min Yoongi, you are such a tease!" Seokjin's trying to pretend that wasn't the most adorable thing he's ever seen Yoongi do. Because he wants to be mad those kisses weren't his. But it's hard to be mad at Yoongi with his soft lips still tickling Seokjin's belly and his melodic laughter filling the air between them. 

Yoongi picks himself up and presses against Seokjin's side. The hot pot will have to wait just a few more minutes. He coos, nuzzling into Seokjin's broad shoulder. "What's the matter, baby? Jealous you didn't get any kisses?" If Seokjin's going to call him a tease, then he best play the part. He leans in and whispers into Seokjin's ear. "All hyung has to do is ask." 

Seokjin melts into a puddle like snow on a hot day. Yoongi's rough voice tickles his ear and he needs. He turns to face Yoongi with pouty lips and batted lashes. "Please." It's as close as he'll to get to begging. 

That's all Yoongi needs to continue. He grabs a fistful of Seokjin's hair from the base of his neck and pushes his face closer until their lips meet. Neither wants to be the first to pull away, so they stay pressed against each other. Making small movements just to take in air and give attention to every millimeter of each other's lips. They continue until Seokjin's stomach rumbles. It reminds them both of how their little moment started. 

Yoongi's first to back away, releasing Seokjin's hair and smoothing it out. He's still wearing a wide smile on his soft features. "Sounds like Agi's hungry. I better get cooking." He keeps Seokjin's hand in his as he walks away. Until he steps too far to reach and he disappears behind a bend in the wall. 

Seokjin's left wondering what exactly he did in his past life to deserve a man like Min Yoongi. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yoongi's scrolling through recipes online. He's hung up on the cook time of the dish. He needs to marinade the meat for at least two hours. And they've already delayed the meal enough. He knows Seokjin is hungry now. And he doesn't want to keep his love waiting. Cravings can be fleeting. He doesn't want to go through all the effort just for Seokjin to change his mind. 

He's relieved to find some sliced beef in the freezer and gets to work on defrosting it. He needs to be quick with that so he can get it marinating. What good is flavorless beef in the hot pot. At the same time, he’s preparing the marinade and setting a stock pot on the burner. He needs to get the homemade broth. He's following the recipe down to the T. He wants this to be a meal Seokjin will enjoy. 

With the meat marinating and the stock brewing, he takes a breather to finish reading through the recipe. He’s as caught up as he can be. He will soon need to start chopping the vegetables and soaking the noodles. But he has time for that later. Meanwhile, Seokjin is still hungry with no end in sight. Yoongi takes it upon himself to whip up some instant ramyeon. When it's finished, he walks a tray out to Seokjin. 

"It's still gonna be a bit before dinner's done. I made you this to hold you over in the meantime." He sets the tray down on Seokjin's lap. 

Before Seokjin can thank him, his stomach rumbles in anticipation. He giggles shyly when he thanks Yoongi and starts slurping up with noodles. The bowl is empty in minutes. Seokjin leans back on the couch, smiling with satisfaction now that his hunger has been quelled. “Aren’t you going to have a snack, too?” Seokjin asks, only now realizing that Yoongi sat beside him the whole time just watching. He feels a bit guilty not that he didn’t offer any to his husband. But he remembers that he’s technically already sharing every meal he eats with someone else. That fact eases his guilt. 

Yoongi just shakes his head. He starts collecting the used dishware and puts it back on the tray. “No, I can wait until dinner. But Agi sounded a little too impatient.” He rubs Seokjin’s stomach a bit. “I hope she’ll still be hungry for hot pot.” 

Seokjin’s mouth waters at the mention of the dish. “Yeah, I think she’ll still have some room,” he teases. Yoongi kills time entertaining Seokjin on the couch. He explains that the meat needs to marinate and the stock needs to settle and the whole process based on what he read on the internet. Really, making the hot pot isn’t difficult. It’s just time consuming. 

Yoongi presses a kiss to Seokjin’s forehead before heading back to the kitchen. The stock should be nice and rich, the meat marinated enough. He’s ready to move on to the next step. He begins the hunt for vegetables. After searching every drawer, cabinet, and container, he finds spinach, cabbage, peppers, carrots, mushrooms, onions, potatoes, and green beans. He’s actually surprised to see they had so many fresh vegetables available; he wonders how they got there. He doesn’t remember buying them. 

Regardless, he’s thankful he has them and starts chopping them into manageable bite size pieces. The recipe is easy to follow from there and in nearly no time at all, he’s got the simmering dish set up in the middle of their kitchen table. He sets out three places, just to build the habit, and calls Seokjin to the table. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seokjin can smell the meal from the living room. The savory, rich aroma of the juicy meat and hearty vegetables fills the air.  The combined fragrance of various spices adds flavor to the soup. It smells exactly like how Seokjin remembered. 

His mouth is watering as he takes in the scent. But it's not watering in anticipation of the meal. His mouth is filling with thick saliva in anticipation of sickness. 

The thing about Seokjin's morning sickness is that it never actually happens in the morning. He always wakes up feeling fine. He's able to get through most days without being sick. But he's not exempt from the miserable symptom in full. 

Actually, Seokjin would prefer a more scheduled experience. He'd prefer if he would just know what makes him feel sick. He'd rather vomit every morning for 9 months like clockwork over dealing with what his body is currently putting him through.

He's more sensitive to foods, both the tastes and the smells. And if he encounters a trigger, it's immediate nausea that always ends in misery. He'd avoid them if he could. But there's no rhyme or reason to it. No consistency in what kinds of foods are going to trigger it. 

Early in the pregnancy it was eggs. He could hardly stand to look at them without gagging. But after a few days, he ate a whole dish by himself and felt fine. Then it was Yoongi's coffee. Seafood. Onions. Pork. And now something in the hot pot is triggering him. 

The ramyeon he snacked on is sloshing around in his stomach, reminding him that there's food inside that wants out. He presses his palm into his stomach, begging the churning to stop. He doesn't want to be sick today. 

He thinks about Yoongi, who he can hear humming happily in the kitchen while preparing the meal. He thinks about how willing Yoongi was to satisfy his craving for hot pot. He thinks about how hard Yoongi's working to cook a meal he probably doesn't even want to eat. All because Seokjin asked him to. 

He's going to be devastated if Seokjin doesn't doesn't eat. He can hear the pride in Yoongi's voice when he calls for Seokjin from the kitchen. So he mutters as much baseless confidence as he can and forces the nausea away. He knows it's a temporary solution, but it's all he can think of with Yoongi waiting for him in the next room. 

"Your appa is going to kill us," Seokjin whispers down to his bump. He may also blame the bump for his current predicament. May curse her out for the poorly timed sensitivities. But he keeps those thoughts to himself.

Yoongi's smile is wide as he ladles a heaping portion into Seokjin's bowl. He makes sure to get a little bit of everything in the bowl so Seokjin can experience all the flavors. Once he's got Seokjin taken care of, he ladles himself a smaller portion.

Beads of sweat are forming on Seokjin's forehead but it's easy enough to blame the boiling pot between them combined with the heat of their apartment. But in reality, the sweat is a sign of Seokjin's nausea. A warning, a consequence for trying to ignore it. "Smells great Yoongi," He tries to distract himself while he swipes his hand across his forehead. He hopes Yoongi hasn't noticed he has yet to taste it.

Yoongi beams at the compliment. He's trying to be humble, but he thinks he did really well. And most importantly, he was able to satisfy Seokjin's craving. And that's worth more to him than the hours he spent working up a sweat in the hot kitchen. "Thanks, hyung. Agi's wish is my command. I hope it satisfies her." 

Seokjin raises the corners of his lips just a tad. He's reminded that Agi will not get the chance to taste it. If he's able to get any down at all, it likely won't stay there for long. He's got the nausea at bay for a moment and decides he's ready to take a bite.  

He picks up a chunk of carrot with his chopsticks, believing it's the safest option. The texture is soft and easy to chew, making it easy to swallow. And it likely didn't absorb as much flavor as the rest of the dish. He still doesn't know what specific element of the meal is making him so sick. The dish is filled with so many potential triggers. 

Choosing the carrot had been a mistake. The second the vegetable touches his tongue, his stomach bubbles and sloshes with rage. He's convinced the carrot is the trigger. Still, he's chewing, trying to convince Yoongi that everything is fine. He needs Yoongi to think he's enjoying the meal. Otherwise, he'll find himself on the spiraling train of thought that he's disappointed his husband. 

Seokjin's racing against his stomach. It's a competition to see if he can swallow the carrot piece before anything shoots up his esophagus. But sadly, as he continues to take slow and measured bites, his stomach rebels and he feels thick liquid climbing up his throat. 

He considers booking it to the bathroom, but the kitchen sink is so much closer and he knows he's out of time. So comfort and dignity be damned, he sprints to the kitchen sink and heaves up the undigested remains of ramyeon. 

He heaves again, and a third time before he notices Yoongi beside him. Though Seokjin thinks he's been there since the first wave. Of course, like the Saint he is, Yoongi is coddling him. Yoongi is encouraging him to get it out, easing him through wave after wave of what looks to be everything he's eaten since his last morning sickness episode the week before. 

After eight productive heaves and three dry ones, Seokjin relents. He throws himself onto Yoongi. Yoongi cradles him, guiding him back to his chair at the table. 

As soon as he's back at the table, his senses are bombarded with the stench of the hot pot again. He’s thrown immediately back to a nauseous mess. He falls off the chair onto all fours. His mouth is hanging open, droplets of saliva making small puddles on the floor. It feels like his stomach is being pressed into a juicer. But there's nothing left to push out, no matter how hard it's squeezed. It doesn’t know when to quit,

The pressure makes him gag, dry and grating against his already irritated throat. His back is fully arched in pain, tears mixing in with his saliva puddles on the floor. All the force eventually expels thin streams of bile into the mix as well. In these moments of sheer agony, Seokjin can only think about how Yoongi will be stuck cleaning the mess. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Seokjin's memory is missing pieces, because next thing he knows he's in their bedroom, slouching against the mattress. Yoongi's beside him, running fingers through his hair and rubbing gentle patterns on his exposed stomach. He looks at his husband's soft, sympathetic smile and caring gaze. 

Yoongi swipes a hand across Seokjin's forehead. It's warm, but probably just from the effort. He accepts that it was just another bout of morning sickness. "Are you feeling better now?" There's no malice, only softly spoken words meant to help him be okay. 

Seokjin immediately starts crying anyway. In between hiccuping sobs, Yoongi can make out a few little phrases. "So sorry…you cooked…the smell…and Agi…belly hurt…the carrot…didn't mean it…good to me…I'm sorry…my fault." He can sort of paint a picture of what Seokjin’s so upset about. He scoops the older man into his lap with ease, resting Seokjin's head in the crook of his neck. Seokjin's using his shoulders as a tissue to wipe his leaky eyes and nose but Yoongi couldn't care any less. 

He shushes Seokjin, gently rocking side to side. He plants a kiss on every inch of skin he can reach without moving his husband too much. "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay. Everyone is okay. Everything's fine." Yoongi repeats the same gentle mantras until Seokjin stops shaking with sobs. When Seokjin seems calm enough to hold a conversation, Yoongi continues. "You don't need to apologize for anything, love. Something just didn't agree with you. That's no one's fault." 

Seokjin sniffles, "You worked so hard. And I couldn't even eat any of it." 

"If you don't feel well, you don't feel well." Yoongi states matter-of-factly, like it's obvious. Because to every extent it is. So he guides his nimble fingers along Seokjin's body for comfort. 

"You wanted to order out. Maybe this wouldn't have happened if we just ordered something." Seokjin rambles. 

"You had a craving, jagiya. You didn't know it would make you sick." Yoongi counters, "That's no one's fault either." But the reassurances all fall on deaf ears. 

"Please don't be mad, Yoongi. I'm sorry for wasting all that food. And for the mess in the kitchen. I'll clean it up.” Seokjin tries to pull away from Yoongi, but Yoongi tightens his grip. Seokjin abandons his efforts when he notices they’re not getting him anywhere. He settles back in before he’s hit with a blaring realization, “You didn’t get a chance to eat anything! You should get yourself something to eat." 

 "Jinnie-hyung. I don't care about the stupid hot pot. I don't care about the mess in the kitchen. I don't care about wasting food. I don't care about skipping dinner. I care about you,” Yoongi’s got both hands squishing Seokjin’s cheeks. He’s forcing Seokjin to look at him. He’s forcing Seokjin to hear him, “It’s you. You and Agi are all that I care about. Always.” Seokjin’s eyes well with tears again, but these aren’t guilty tears. No, tears of admiration for his husband. “Do you understand that?” Seokjin nods, nuzzling himself back into Yoongi’s chest. 

Yoongi hums in satisfaction, petting Seokjin’s head. “Good, now that that’s settled. Are you feeling better?” Seokjin hums an affirmation. “You’re all empty, Jagi. You and Agi need to eat. Think you can stomach something light, jook maybe?” 

Seokjin contemplates the question before agreeing. He looks up at Yoongi, “Can you order it from that cafe in Seongdong-gu? The one where every meal is named after a different fish. And can I get a soda. Please.” 

Yoongi chuckles fondly, pressing a long kiss to Seokjin’s forehead. “Anything for you, hyung.” 

A/N: As always, thanks for reading to the end! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!