#despite my energy levels and joints being shot to shit

[icy-book]

Sarcificed my humanity for a good soup. Worth it *bleeding thumbs up*

[whumpfessional]

Whumptober prompts 14 (failed escape), 17 (stress positions), 20 (going into shock), 21 (coughing up blood), 26 (separated), 29 (defiance), 30 (manhandled)

Cly and Jason got kidnapped by a cult part ?

Just dumping this here, should take care of a bunch of prompts. Also going to post more of this in chronological order because the ending is just A+.

I also just looked up the whumptober how to tag things and I've been doing it all wrong. Don't think I'm going to correct myself too much because this is just for me.

CW: magic cultist, dislocated hands, getting beaten, carved up, hanging by the hands, cold water torture, disassociation, being kidnapped

Jason watched Cly struggle against her bonds for a moment before gritting his teeth and focusing on the small purchase found in his cuffs, raising up his hands and bringing them down hard several times to dislocate his thumbs. A slight crunch is heard and acutely felt in his left hand and he grunted quietly in pain, twisting that hand around to try and work it out.

Cly looked up with shock, eyes wide. Oh shit, she mouthed at him from across the room. She looked down at his hands then up at his face. Can you do it? she asked silently.

He looked back, eyes watering from the pain of his endeavour, and squeezed them shut. Taking a deep breath in he yanks his hand and twists. A small pop is heard and he softly cries out before biting down on his cheek as the hand is pulled free. He collapses back on the wall and nods back, feeling blood fill his mouth.

Admiration breaks out across Cly’s face and she begins to twist with renewed energy. “Okay, plan time,” she hisses across the room to him, “I’ll distract them and you take them down from behind. Try to find something sharp for my ties on the after you knock them down . Okay?” 

Jason spat out some blood onto his now free hand and lubricates his right cuff, his thumb hanging limp. “Okay.” He whispered, working away at the right hand. It takes several agonizing moments of yanking and rotating but the hand comes loose with another click followed by his stifled yelps. He looked down at his hands in surprise, then at Cly.

“Yes!” Cly hissed, looking wildly at the door, though her face blanches when she hears boot steps begin to click down the call. She gave him a look of determination before lying back, the picture of defeat. 

The door clicked open once again and Hawk steps in. Cly kicked out with her legs, grabbing her attention. 

“What the fuck is this? Fucking mind games with this water bullshit!” Cly yelled, Hawk attention turning to look down at her.

Hawk stepped forward with a grin, bending down to Cly’s face level. 

Jason lunged forward and wrapped his arm in a choke hold around her neck. He squeezed, trying to jerk back with her. Hawk was jerked off balance and fell back onto Jason, struggling in his hold. Jason managed to hold tightly, despite the pain shooting up his arms from his thumbs. 

Slam! Jason was thrown backwards by a massive force erupting between him and Hawk. His head smacked back against the wall and he found himself sliding back down, legs unable to find purchase under him.

Exploding from Hawk’s back was the same darkness that Jason saw before, now roiling and twisting, lunging for him against the wall. 

The smoky darkness engulfed him, pushing him up the wall so that his feet dangled a foot off the floor. He’s locked in, the darkness solid and freezing against his skin. 

“Jay!”, screamed Cly, only seeing Jason being lifted off the ground and held in place. 

Hawk rubbed her throat slightly to where Jason was held off the ground, a furious expression but one that belayed a sense of curiosity. A dangerous curiosity. 

It seemed to Jason that she reached through the darkness that pressed itself against him, grabbing him by the thumb and pulling it upwards towards her. 

Pain shot up Jason’s arm as the weight of his hand pulled down on the dislocated joint. She drew it close, inspecting it then let out a little chuckle, a surprised look on her face. 

“Looks like I underestimated you,” Hawk appraised, dropping the hand down. Another bolt of pain shot up his arm as it thudded against the wall. The darkness continued to press him inwards, continuing to roil against him. “Did she tell you how to do this? Or did you figure it out yourself?” 

Jason seized and shook, struggling to make out his answer. “Your….mom….told me..”

Hawk was silent for a moment, while Cly let out a bark of laughter. The cultist swung around quickly, slamming her fist into Cly’s face and knocking her backwards. She twisted back around to Jason, snarl transforming into a harsh grin on her face. Her hand gripped his throat tightly, reaching through the shadow to clamp down on him. 

“Oh, you want to have some fun. Okay, then we are going to have fun.” Hawk pulled out a zip tie from her belt. Pushing back her robe to get it, Jason was able to see a large dagger strapped on in addition to a cudgel. The darkness help him firmly as she pulled his hands together, zipping them together tightly. 

Hawk called out into the hallway and the young man from before as well as another who may have been his brother stepped in. The darkness was fading at this point but it didn’t matter as the two of them lifted him off the ground. 

Cly had pushed herself up, her nose bleeding slightly onto her upper lip. “What are you doing? You know it was my idea! Let him go.” She hissed, letting the blood fall into her mouth. 

Hawk gave her look back over her shoulder as she stepped out of the room, the others following behind. “Oh Cly, you know he has to learn a lesson.” She called out.

“Jason!” Cly called from the room, trying to pull out from the ties. They had began to cut in deeply from all of her pulling but she continued anyways. “Ja-“ The door slammed shut behind the two men, dragging Jason between them. 

He was brought to a room just a few doors down. Similar, bright fluorescent lights. Drain in the middle of the floor. Though in this one there was installed a chain hanging from the ceiling with a set of manacles dangling from it. Jason’s arms were ripped upwards and locked in, the zip tie being cut roughly once they were clamped into place. The pain shot down into his elbows from his thumbs and the manacles were locked too tightly to allow him to slip.

Jason stood on his own for a moment before Hawk entered into the room, looking him up and down slowly. “You seem to still think we are playing a game here,” she began, stepping closer to him. Her hand slipped towards her belt as she spoke. “You don’t seem to be that scared yet. Part of me wanted to admire you for being brave.” Hawk’s other hand shot up, grabbing onto his chin. “Now I realize that you are just that stupid.”

Jason spat before realizing he’s doing so.  “Guess I am.” He sniped, “if it makes your job harder.”

Hawk froze, then slowly reached up and wiped the spit away with her robed sleeve. She stepped back slightly, face still frozen, then gave the two men a nod from where they had stepped off. 

It was a brutal beating, nothing short of that. Jason experienced a moment of terror when he began to choke on some blood but the next blow to the stomach caused him to cough it back up.

There was nowhere to hide his body, exposed from all sides. Eventually, his legs gave up as a foot slammed into the side of his knee and his body weight fell onto his wrists. There was a pause for a moment as Jason shuddered, hanging there. His eyes half closed, shock rippled through his shoulders as a hand wrenched up his face from where it hung. 

“All that, and I didn’t lift a finger.” Hawk spoke calmly from across the room, one of the young men gripping onto his face. “Think how much worse it could get, Jason. Even still,” she began to walk forwards, her dagger resting lightly in her hands, “think how much worse it will get. That was just for the spit. There are many more lessons you need to learn today.” 

It’s almost morning. Make it to morning.

He chanted his old mantra over and over in his head out of habit as the beating reached its zenith, returning to his body only when his face was grabbed again. 

Jason coughed and slowly cracks his eyes open, staring back. “Very...Saw III” he croaks, a painful smile inching onto his face. “Hm, you know what? I think I feel myself getting...stupider.” He drilled his eyes into hers, focusing on his hatred to mask the fear and pain.  Make it to morning, He orders himself.

Hawk just cocked her head to the side, relaxed grin on her face. “Where do you go, when you aren’t here?” She asked as she stepped into his space and began roughly cutting off the front of his shirt. The knife slipped across his skin, threatening to break through a couple times. The front hung open and she dug the knife through the material of the shoulder. Her breath tickled his ear as she leaned in, “Where do you run away to hide in there?” She tore the knife backwards, tattered shirt now hanging from just one shoulder. 

Jason grit his teeth and yelled from the back of his throat, jolting slightly toward her in blind anger and slipping. He fell heavily back, suspended by the wrists and lets out a quiet moan in agony as his hands tug on the manacles. 

Hawk gave his face a little pat, stepping back slightly to take a look. Her thumb pressed into a large bruise forming on his rib cage, digging in between the bones. She gave another nod to one of the men and they pressed a button on the wall, causing the chain to lift further off the ground, dragging Jason’s feet up so that just his toes touched the ground. The arms being dragged upwards pushed pressure onto his chest, making it harder to breathe. 

“Remember Jason, you aren’t powerless here. You always have a choice to make things easier for yourself,” Hawk stepped forward with the dagger, drawing a straight line down his pectoral. The muscle, already stretched, burned around the cut. “I’m not asking questions today. Today is for you learning an important lesson.” She added a horizontal slash beside it the other cut and then quickly another one downwards, forming an “H”. “But when I start asking questions,” she held the dagger up to his check for a moment, digging it slightly inwards just enough for a pinprick of blood to form at the tip, “it can go two ways and how it goes is entirely in your power.” 

Hawk began dragging the knife down again, starting to form a capital “A”. “Stay with me there,” her eyes made contact with his, pulling him back from where ever he had gone off too. “If you don’t stay with me, I’m going to have to make you stay with me.” The threat was clear in her voice. She pulled back when she finished the first two letters, watching his muscles twitch under the strain. 

“Hmm, you’re looking a little messy. And not fully here. Jonah?” A hiss of water started from behind Jason and before he could prepare for it, an icy blast of water slammed into his back, causing him to spin around in the manacles, loosing his balance. The blast slammed into his face, water shooting up his nose and into his throat, choking him. He tried to twist away but there was no where to hide as the water sliced at him. Agony spiked up his body as the blast landed on the letters Hawk had started to carve and he let loose a scream, losing his hold on his voice. The floor no longer held any purchase for his feet and he struggled to breath as he hung from wrenched arms, head flopped forward. Cold water dripped from his hair onto his cheeks as he hung there for a moment. 

A rough hand yanked into his hair, pulling his head back. Hawk stood before him, dagger still held gently in hand. “How are you hanging in there? I don’t want you to pass out on me just yet.” She asked gently, tilting her head up to look into his eyes. 

Jason dangled and looked back, glassy eyed. The only sound coming from him was a weak humming of a simple tune  from somewhere inside his chest. 

“Hmm,” Hawk looked disappointed, “thought you had more in you than that. I guess we can just continue another day then.” She gave his face a gentle pat, “it’s no fun if you aren’t going to give me anything. Let me just finish this off now, I hate to leave a project uncompleted.” The blade work was quick, though there were parts where Jason could feel it pressing in, Hawk watching his face for twitches of movement. 

“I wish I could see your face when you start to come back to this.” Hawk stepped back for a final time, appreciating her work. “I think you’ve definitely made a lot of progress today, Jason. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.” She left then, turning and walking down the hallway, boots clicking steadily away. 

As she leaves he blinked hard, his eyes clearing before sliding back into emptiness.

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven: Dark and Dusty

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Damnit, did Reynolds forget he took my watch again?" Jane heaved her stiff body away from the person desperately shaking her awake. Gods, she felt like hell. Take a hangover and add being run over by three buses filled with elcor.

"Jane, I wouldn't-," Roy's usually calm voice laced with fear, pleading with the stubborn woman to get up, "there's an emergency. I need you."

The building reverberated, dust wafting into the air in the aftermath of the sudden tremor. The woman sprung from her cot, scrambling through the hallways at breakneck speed. Her footing proved not to be so cooperative, but she held her pace. The rumble had come from the western parking lot, and the rest was slowly forming into a clearer picture, the hushed building, and the distant discharge of guns faint but persistent. Footsteps kept pace behind her, but his words faded into the pounding of her head and the blur of her singular purpose. Arriving in the parking lot out of breath finally drew the situation in a complete picture: they were under siege.

Jane slid into the concrete barrier where Silva rested the barrel of her sniper rifle, her silver eyes flicking over the human a minute later, "you look like shit."

"I've had worse days," she quipped, "what's going on?"

The Turian pulled in a long breath, "I don't know exactly, we got a report of armed assailants. I'm only here to stop them from getting in- Korvac wants you upstairs," the tilt of her head motioned both of them up the ramp.

"Jane, wait!' Roy called as they set up the ramp. The blue-eyed woman giving him a steely gaze, "your weapon?"

"Thank you," she mumbled, forgetting to grab a weapon was not her usual move.

"If you're too hurt-"

"I've had worse," Jane hissed coldly.

The LT gave up, but she felt his gaze on her back. He had more to say. Thankfully, it wasn't coming. The short but brisk trek to the top level of the parking structure drew out in silence. Both comfortable with focusing on the task at hand, the Turian leader waved them over. Directing Jane to look down the scope of the Sniper rifle he handed over to her. The alien was silent, gaze pinned in a westward direction.

She looked down the scope, finding the problem in short order. The familiar krogan, but now flanked in a small force of vorcha. The dull click of the safety-on weapon a very disappointing turn.

"I take it that is only the forward assault?"

"Yes," the Turian hummed, "we're getting reports of at least three other groups. One in each direction."

"Looks like old members of the Blood Pack."

Korvac nodded.

"Where are the varren?"

The structure shook again, "rigged to explode."

Jane handed the weapon to her silent superior, "we need to get all the civilians out, now."

"How? The bastard knows all the routes in and out."

A stand was the obvious answer. They knew they couldn't lose the building; several months' worth of food, clean water, and medical supplies couldn't be moved in time. The gardens and restored generators meant a sustainable future until ships could start rolling off the planet and out of the system. A restart meant a very uncertain future.

They all knew this time was coming. It was just too soon. All preparations, perhaps foolishly, were spent on improving their ease of life. Or more considerately, on the influx of refugees that sought out aid or shelter.

"Alright, Princesses, we can start fighting back now that the Krogan are here," Wrex taunted with misplaced enthusiasm, somethings never changed.

"Wrex," Korvac greeted with unexpected civility, giving a brief overview of the entire situation.

"I volunteer to head off Greenie," the two alien leaders looked at her curiously, "he has the biggest beef with me. If I keep him distracted, or better yet kill him, he can't use whatever knowledge he has of the building. The rest of you can focus on the fodder."

"That's supposing he hasn't given away all our secrets, and it's more than just vorcha; it's every opportunist he could round up," Korvac cautioned.

"Well, we lack time to make a better plan," but he made a good point, but at this time fucked was fucked.

"We can only hope those opportunists are too greedy to share information," Wrex chimed in, "plus this one knows how to make his blood boil."

"Has anyone started to round up the civilians?" Jane asked in Roy's direction.

"I-," the human stuttered.

"Reynolds, this is Recruit- yes." Jane radioed the first soldier she thought could handle the responsibility of gathering the noncombatants. Luckily he was already on the task, but Jane made sure to drill all relevant issues to assure success. Her short conversation and the two alien leaders discussing joint strategy coincided.

"Can you handle the western edge?" the Turian questioned after a long moment, "that could buy us some time. The other groups are still a bit further out."

"You aren't going alone," Roy broke from his stupor, "I'll join you."

"LT-"

"He's right, you need help. Take Silva and the squad at the ramp exit. We need you to slow them."

"How come she gets all the fun," the krogan mused, "fight hard."

"Aim for the head," Jane returned gently.

She picked at the shoddy chest piece that was several inches too big. At a time like this, she shouldn't be picky about such a thing, it was lucky to have a functioning piece of armour, but when one got used to custom and tailored armour, it was hard to go back. But how it already dug into her uncomfortably, it might be better not to have the thing at all. But it was the draw of having a working shield that made the risk worth it.

The most concerning issue was Roy's silence.

"LT," she cooed, "everything alright?"

He toyed with his assault rifle, cheeks puffing out, "this is serious, isn't it?"

Right, Roy hadn't experienced much in terms of combat; before the Reaper War he had seen none in his military days. This up-close, high-risk mission with a small squad was out of his foray, especially with the consequences of failing. Manning the perimeter and firing shots at assailants behind windows was a different ballgame from the full-fire combat.

"It's not too late to join the others," Jane was already miffed that a squad followed behind her; the hair-brained suicide mission felt like a better option. To see Silva and Roy tied up in it was a lead weight in her heart.

The man huffed again, and she reflexively looked down, braced for his angry retort. Instead, his arms pulled her in, wrapping around her tightly, a hand cradling the back of her head, "not now. We both know how important this is."

"No need to get all emotional, LT," she teased gently, working herself from his grip slowly the attention it brought both of them stopping the moment from lasting, "keep your head down and stay undercover. Adrenaline takes over the rest."

"I'm glad you know what you are doing," but he managed to smile, "I'll stop moping."

Jane tenderly nudged him, "I've seen lifelong soldiers piss themselves before their first battles, I think you're doing fine."

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Varren were easy.

Not in the familiar way of sending the lot of them flying with a biotic blast of energy that tore through the pack in a single flick of her arm easy- but one headshot seemed to do the trick. Silva caught a few from behind her shoulder, sticking to her vantage point further downwind. Roy's assault rifle hit the explosive packs, wiping out several in one burst.

It was the vorcha crawling over the rubble and concrete barriers that had her worried. They took far more time and attention to deal with. Their innate regeneration meant missed shots becoming more costly, and the extra time needed to line up an accurate headshot took attention away from the swarming varren. And wherever that damned Krogan went.

The first turian went down, a missed varren sending shale and dust rocketing across the entrenched ramp.

Vorcha swarmed through the haze, the real heat of battle ensuing in the panic. Some resorted to hand-to-hand combat, while others fired into the fog. Screams echoed in the concrete chamber, and they were getting overrun quickly. Several more detonations followed, rocking the building and dust from where it rested.

"Hold fire!" Jane screamed.

Attempting something she had only ever seen but not done.

A pulsing blue shield of biotic energy enveloped the entrance to the parking structure. It wavered, shrinking a meter before it swelled back into its original size. Jane stood in the middle, the swirling energy coating her body.

The defenders didn't need to hear Shepard's strained command to return fire. Varren and Vorcha alike collided against the barrier, if they were not gunned down. The biotic force a shield against further explosions and, more importantly, the rubble from the blasts.

"Jane, Greenie just ahead," Silva radioed- the rest of her statement ignored in the blur of her focus shift and the human's collapsing against the concrete barrier.

Roy slid against his recruit once he needed to reload, "we could have used that firepower long ago, Recruit!"

"Heh," half of Jane smirked, blood streaking from her nostrils. Peering over the concrete sloppily to get a look at the green crested Krogan that approached. Her smile widened as Roy looked at her with growing horror.

Roy grabbed her face, his thumb tracing down the unreactive side of her cheek. The odd scars glimmered beneath the touch, her eyelid reacted slowly to his thumb hovering over it. His worry intensified as the woman snapped forward, her head colliding with his chest plate. Unconscious for only the moment her forehead met armour.

"We're the only ones left," the voice over the radio stated in a panic, a shot careening over their position.

"Don't do this," he murmured, grabbing the stubborn female's chin. Purple washed over her skin despite the tear leaving his eye.

After all his fuss, he was powerless against the otherwise harmless force of energy that sent him toppling into another barricade; Jane looked down at him from a shakey height, "I won't be the last again."

In a splitting snap, Jane was gone, transforming into a hurtling meteor of blue energy racing at the oncoming krogan. The mass of energy collided full force with the krogan, bashing him into the wall a resounding crack of bone and sinew followed but still, the alien managed to shove the woman to the ground. Jane rolled to avoid the shotgun blast, using the momentum to charge again. This time with only the force of anger and spite.

The shimmering purple and blue gathered into her palms, exploding nanoseconds later in a pulse of bright light that filled the structure. Rocking it aside more than any of the rigged varren could manage. Once the light settled, the recruit's form lay lifeless on the ground. The Krogan's teetering foot lifted, on course for her exposed skull slamming with the last of his might.

[hollypastl]

the disappearance of [REDACTED] ch.2

miya atsumu/reader

Summary: "MISSING: MIYA Y/N" It reads. Underneath is a picture of yourself. Age, height, weight. Everything important is listed. How embarrassing.

Genre: angst/mystery

Warnings: missing persons, time skip spoilers

Notes: crossposted on ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/28726002/chapters/70468146#workskin

chapter two: you will live and die for them because that’s your way

Osamu is still as a statue as he processes what his brother’s just told him.

It doesn’t seem real.

“That doesn’t make any— No. I know you’re you and she’s her, but you two are…” He trails off and starts wiping down the bar again. It’s a nervous habit Osamu picked up sometime when he wasn’t watching. “I mean... last week she didn’t act like anything was—”

Atsumu is busy reeling from his brother almost(?) complimenting his relationship that he almost misses it. “Last week?”

He nods. “Yeah, the stall was packed at the Friday game… She jumped in and manned the register so the rest of us could work on finishing orders.”

“Last week, though? You’re positive?”

He nodded.

“You saw her?”

From your usual court side seats, you could hear shoes squeaking and players panting. The thirty second row just wasn’t the same. At the same time, watching the game from a birds eye view gave you a new perspective and appreciation.

You leaned forward and locked on to Sakusa for the serve that would start the set. Your cheek sunk into your hand as his serve shot almost straight into the floor if not for a quick save by Komori that he bounced with only a single arm.

Someone across the way whooped and your eyes darted side to side as the ball hopped in the air and the setter shot a quick toss through the air. Your eyes landed on the spiker it was hurtling towards. From this far away, it was impossible to see, but you knew Suna well enough. Right now he was probably thinking something like, ‘There’s a three man block in front of me, is there really any use in jumping? I’m not gonna land a point anyway, so I might as well conserve my energy.” Still, he leaped for all he was worth and dinked it with his freakishly long fingers at the last second.

“Woohoo!” You screeched. Ignoring the fans who turned around to frown at you. Understandable. Why were you sitting in the MSBY Black Jackals section and dressed in black and gold merch if you were gonna cheer for the other damn team? You glare right back at them and slurp on your empty drink. The action only reminds you that you’re kind of hungry.

Inunaki bumps it back up all the same. Not surprising considering how slow and weak dinks are, but you gasp and groan aloud with the rest of the fans when Atsumu immediately tries to dump the ball back over the net. The play is messy and his hands are easy to read. Suna springs back up and spikes it down before the two even have a chance to tussle over it.

The buzzer rings and the EJP Raijin are awarded the point.

“Now that’s a failure of a setter dump if I ever saw one. Not what you usually expect from a player like Miya.”

“He does seem to be off his game today— oh, and there it is. Coach Foster is subbing in another player.”

“It’s only the second set, and the Jackals did take the first. There’s plenty of time for him to cool off and get back on the court to show us some of his monster serves.”

The commentators switch to talking about the serving skills of the various players at today’s game, which you don’t bother to stick around for. You did come to see Atsumu, after all. No point in staying if he’s not on the court.

You gather your hair in a low ponytail and tie it back, put your jacket back on, and make sure you have your wallet and phone still. All secure.

The stadium isn’t one you’re used to, so you refer to the map in the concrete hallway. The exit closest to the station is the north one and you’re at the southeast. It’s only when you turn to go that you realize you don’t know whether to go left or right.

“Well, it is just a giant circle,” You mutter. “Doesn’t really matter which way.”

From further inside, you can hear the buzzer go off one, two three times, signaling the end of the set. “That was quick.” The halls flood immediately and you’re forced to slow down and trudge through, rather than hyperwalk like you usually would. This whole trip is turning out to be one inconvenience after another. Atsumu is off his game. You’re hungry. People in this crowd keep bumping into you.

“Hey lady, get in line like the rest of us.” One asshole grunts and you reflexively scowl at him and the five brats he’s with. It drops from your face. If you had to deal with five kids under the age of ten all by yourself, you’d be grumpy too.

“Sorry, m’bad.” Curious, (and still hungry) you check what it is they’re in line for. Immediately, you’re in a better mood. Skirting the line, you hop over the gate and swipe some onigiri right out of the display box.

“Oi! What the hell are you— Oh, [y/n].”

“Hey there, stranger! Fancy meeting you here.” In two massive, disgusting, and arguably impressive bites, you swallow the onigiri (which is in no way, bite sized) and pluck the baseball cap off his head.

“Hiii, welcome to Onigiri Miya, what can I get for you today?” You ask, pulling your ponytail through the hat and bumping your hip with Osamu’s. The old man isn’t all that disturbed by the abrupt change in cashier and prattles on a list of items long enough to feed a battalion. You’re quick to click it into the POS and nod your head to the order printer that’s situated further back in their makeshift workstation. “I’ve got this. Go do your thing.” He rubs his hat hair sheepishly. He wasn’t planning on taking it off today. "Here's your receipt, sir. Please pick up your order at the station to your left. Good afternoon, it’s lovely to have ya here at Onigiri Miya, whatcha cravin’?”

“That’s it? What else did she say? Where’d she go after? When did she leave?” Atsumu’s hands buried themselves in his hair, practically pulling it out by the roots.

“I don’t know! Um… The rush came after the second set, I think? N’she left right after. I assumed she just went back in ta watch the game!”

“But she didn’t say anything weird?”

“No! We were so busy I barely said two words to ‘er!” Osamu had never seen his brother look so frantic.

“I’m going back to the police.” He rasped out.

— — —

At the station, Detective Kano looks over your file.

CASE: Missing Persons

FULL NAME: Miya [y/n]

BIRTHPLACE: Sapporo

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Osaka

Looking at it plainly, the answer is clear. As much as his subordinate and your husband don’t want to believe it, you’ve left. Nobody took you or forced you. The reason could be anything. You got bored or felt stifled in your marriage, (it did say you two had gotten married at twenty. That’s awfully young to make a lifelong commitment) you met another man, (always a possibility) or it could be that you were running for your life from an abusive piece of shit. Your case wouldn’t be the first like that and nor would it be the last. He didn’t care how ‘worried’ your husband appeared to be. For all he knew, the bastard could just be worried about people finding out and it ending his career.

"Oi, Tanigashi.” He barked. The rookie’s head shot up. “We find any bodies in the past couple days?”

“Time frame?” She asked, already typing away.

“Last seen on Tuesday, the fourteenth”

“Male? Female? What else, ya gotta help me out here.”

“Twenty two year old female.”

She hummed. “Tourist?”

He shook his head.

“Is she a short emo meets Harajuku model typa person?” She sighed, turned the monitor in his direction.

He sighed. “Nope. Sorry fer wastin’ your time. Get back to work.”

“Detective?” The office secretary popped his head in the door. “The statements you ordered just came in. Should I print them out for you?”

“Yeah, thanks kid.” Kano heaved himself out of his seat and cracked his bones. Years on the force and keeping up with full contact Karate were starting to get to him. Maybe he should take his daughters advice and take up Tai Chi or Yoga.

He crinkles open a wrapper and pops the gum in his mouth, reading the evidence as it’s freshly warm off the machine.

The bank statements aren’t anything out of the ordinary. You’ve withdrawn everything from your personal account. The joint account has been left alone. He jots down a note. ‘Set financial alert for suspicious activity.’

This way he’ll know if one of you tries to remove the other from the account. Again, he noted that you hadn’t withdrawn anything from the joint. As his spouse, you were legally entitled to it. And with Atsumu’s fat check from three seasons of pro sports under his belt, it wasn’t like he would miss a little bit all that much.

If anything, it told the detective that you didn’t hate him. Had you wanted him to suffer, it would be easy to empty the accounts and leave him broke.

“Rule’s out abuse.” He mumbles. Unless you were afraid of retribution should he find you. Though with how thorough you were being, (phone left behind. bank account empty. social media untouched) something told him you didn’t have any plans to be found.

Kano sighs, flipping through more pages and organizing them as he goes.

“This just gets more and more complicated.” He stops. “Hey, kid. Where’s the health report?”

He paled, worried he had missed something. “Ummmmmmmmm.” His fingers click across his email. “Looks like the hospital needs a formal report before releasing any information. Sorry, I’ll get right on that.”

— — —

Tucked away behind more wealthy and more flashy neighborhoods, hidden and huddled by a ring of trees, the only way you could ever know the Miya household was there was if you had been there before.

Which you had.

Ducked below a hill off the main road, it’s a modest split level house which seemed a lot smaller when you were younger. Then again, it had been inhabited by both the boys, their mom, and all the people they attracted. Which happened to be a lot. Despite being more than a little rude, Atsumu and Osamu were always surrounded by people wanting to be their friend.

You park in the driveway and enter through the back door on the porch, which has been unlocked since you first started visiting when you were fifteen.

“Toyo! It’s [y/n]. You here?” You called, walking through the door. No answer.

You walked through the kitchen and down the six steps to the main level.

“Toyo? You in there?” Politely soft, but loud enough to be heard, you knocked on her door. Still nothing.

You swung the door open.

“To—” Surrounded by tissues, old bowls of food, and shivering, was Miya Toyo in all her glory. “Gosh.” You whispered. “I knew you were sick, but this is ridiculous.”

Quietly, you grabbed the heating pad in her nightstand drawer and plugged it in, setting it next to her on the bed. Then, gently pulling the covers up and smoothing them out. Not that it mattered. The woman slept like a rock. You wondered if she had always dealt with being sick like this: alone, with no one to care for her.

Then you were headed back towards the kitchen. The door to Toyo’s room was carefully shut. You didn’t want your noise to wake her up. On the way back, you shuddered. No wonder she was sick, she kept the house colder than an icebox.

You made a pit stop at the boy’s room, sliding open a closet door, grabbing a hoodie, and smelling it.

“Hmm… Yeah, that’s Atsumu.” You recognized and quickly pulled it on. The man threw a fit anytime you wore Osamu’s clothes, so you had learned to differentiate the two. You chuckled. That was one of the ways you had figured out he had a thing for you.

A second pair of socks was also stolen. Yours were much too thin to keep your toes from falling off. “Hmm hmmm. Hmm hm, hmmm hm.” You hummed absentmindedly as you switched on the kettle and searched through the pantry and fridge for ideas on what to make.

[morgana-ren]

Hell and You XI

Summary:  After being abducted but somehow escaping a horrible fate, your life has been turned sideways. It's been months now and you're still trying to recover and cope with the traumatic events that occurred in that dark basement. Your friend and roommate, determined to get you back into the groove of things, convinces you to come out for a night on the town despite your better judgement. What's the worst that could happen? After all, it's been months, and Strade is long since through with you, right?

Rating: HA HA HA holy shit look if anything bothers you, just don’t. Stay far the fuck away. R+. 

AO3 Mirror if you prefer to read it there

You heard it right, folks. Chapter 11 is finally up and ready for business on a newly re-edited version of Hell and You, my dumpsterfire of a magnum opus. Gods I need to reevaluate my fucking priorities lmao

“Wake up, little one!”

An involuntary grunt pushed itself out of my throat, voicing my reluctance to oblige the command. It took me a full moment to drag my heavy eyelids open, only to be greeted with Strade’s predatory grin beaming down at me. The foggy veil of sleep lifted from my brain and reality hit me like a fucking truck. I realized exactly where I was and what was happening. My groan turned into a long, drawn out whine and I did my best to turn from him, only to quickly be reminded of the shackles around my wrists with a sear of pain as they grated my skin. The renewed need to get away from him was tearing me apart, inside and out.

“Come now, liebling! You’ve been asleep for hours now. It’s far past the afternoon!” He placed a large hand on my ribs and shook, digging his fingers in a little too deeply to be comfortable.

I hissed, shaking him off. I tried to remember even falling asleep, feeling violated by his presence, both conscious and not. “What time is it?”

“Almost three now.”

I almost jerked up, held back only by the stinging pain in my wrists again and a warning flare from my sore shoulders. “What day is it? How long was I out?”

A condescending smirk slowly made its way across his face. “It’s still Sunday, häschen. Why? Expecting something?”

A slow, deep crevice carved down into my stomach. Acid crawled up my throat, and I resisted the urge to hurl.

“What do you want, Strade?” I closed my eyes, if only so I didn’t have to look at him. I wanted to tear those golden eyes out with my bare fucking hands.

“It’s been a while since you’ve eaten.” He pulled something from his pocket and thrust it into my face. I forced myself to look at it, only to be greeted with a broken, crumpled energy bar held between his meaty fingers. “You should eat. Keep your energy up.” He twisted it around, shaking it slightly as if to entice me.

Between the smell of stale grain, the raisins that were dangerously close to fermenting, and his horrid, wolfish smile, something inside me broke.

Despite the obvious danger I was in, I almost choked on my own spit laughing. It bubbled up from deep in my chest, breaking through a barricade of self-preservation and sanity. The overwhelming need to be petty overrode my better judgement. “Is that the only thing you ever eat?”

He stared at me blankly, a sliver of curiosity breaking through his stoic façade. My anger boiled over, and I cackled even louder, tears brimming in the corners of my eyes.

“Holy shit. I knew you were pathetic, but this really takes the cake.” The words came out like vomit. I knew this would be a big mistake, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to spew some of his own bile back at him. I closed my eyes again to keep the tears from falling.

“You technically have an entire house, including a fully stocked kitchen, and you still choose to live off those cheap fucking energy bars.” I began digging my nails into my palm to ease the mania, trying to bring myself back down to reality, but it just kept coming. “You have no idea how to even take care of yourself, do you? Too busy taking people apart and reenacting your bullshit slasher fantasy to learn how to take care of yourself even on a base level?”

I opened my eyes briefly, enough to see him scowl, face darkening as he narrowed his eyes on me.

I stopped laughing.

“Such a sweet girl,” He bared his canines at me as one of his hands shot down, grabbing my jaw and yanking it towards him, pulling my face far enough to tug on my restraints and forcing a small cry from me. “Offering to make me food. Is that what I heard?”

“Mhmm!” I nodded fervently. “Okay, okay, let go!” His fingertips were digging into my already sore jaw, pushing my cheeks and lips into a pucker.

“What was that?” He leaned in, cocking his head, clenching his hand even more. “One more time?”

“Please!” It wasn’t so much a sentence as it was a mushy worded plea. “Strade, please stop!”

He pulled his hand away but kept his face close. I could already feel his handprints bruising into my flesh. He stroked my hairline as I moved my jaw back and forth, trying to ease the ache. “Kind of you to offer.” Reaching behind him, he pulled his knife. “Now be a good little pet and don’t move.”

One of his hands slipped the blade just under my chin, and the other went to unlock my handcuffs. I thought about rushing him as I felt one of my hands fall free, at least until his knife dug into my chin hard enough that I felt a small drop of blood dribble down my throat. He looked down at me almost knowingly as he immediately grabbed my other free hand and slapped the constraint back on, only in front this time.

Motherfucker.

He pulled himself up from the bed, yanking me up by the chain of my binds as well. I opened my mouth in a wordless cry, letting him drag me upwards by my raw wrists from the mattress. One of them began bleeding anew, letting small crimson drops fall onto the carpet as he led me out the door and down the hallway, jerking me along by the small amount of slack he allowed. This carpet is so beyond ruined.

When we reached the kitchen, I was breathing deeply and clenching my fingers. My wrists were raw and bleeding, my arms aching and shoulders barely able to move. Either oblivious or uncaring to my pain, he shoved me towards a counter, letting me catch myself against the harsh granite with my forearms.

I rubbed at my joints, trying to scrape off some of the dried blood as he lumbered over by the fridge, stopping halfway as he spied my knife block. He looked at it for a few seconds before he picked up in his hands, turning and smirking at me as he placed it on top of the fridge and pushed it back where I couldn’t reach, doing the same with our silverware drawer and anything he deemed a threat to his personhood.

“Oh, fuck you, you fucking prick.” I spat, coaxing a small giggle from him.

“If you want me to reach anything for you, you just have to ask me nicely.” He reached over and ruffled my hair.

“Strade, will you please hand me that big ass knife?”

He pursed his lips and gave me an annoyed look. “Cute.”

“Okay, genius, you go ahead and tell me how I’m going to cook anything without any silverware.”

He looked to the side for a few seconds as he pondered it, chewing on his lip. He looked around again briefly before turning and stalking back over to the fridge. He yanked it open, pulling out a carton of eggs and throwing them on the counter. He then proceeded open and slam a few drawers before pulling out a spatula and holding it towards me.

“Eggs sound nice, don’t they? And I don’t think you could do much damage with this.”

I yanked it from his hand, lip twitching. “You want to test that theory?”

“Oh, süße. Don’t bring a spatula to a knife fight.” He grinned, palming his blade.

“One of these times, I’m going to get that thing away from you, and I’m going to dig it into your fucking eye socket.”

He gave me a coy look, running his tongue over his teeth and biting his lip subtly. “I was planning on just eating a little food but talking like that makes me think you have something else in mind.” He went to reach for me again, and I jerked out of his range, holding my hands up defensively.

“I’ll make the damn food, just don’t touch me.”

He kept the predatory smile on his face, leering nearby. “Playing hard to get, hmm?” He pulled his knife out, tapping it playfully on his lower lip. “That’s fine, for now. But you might want to hurry. I am hungry, but I’m also feeling a little... under stimulated.”

I backed away from him, showing him that fear I’d tried so hard to keep down. I had to draw this out as long as I could. I just had to hold him off until someone came home. I knew what under stimulated meant for Strade, and I knew what that meant for me.

Pain. Lots of it.

Something about the way my hands were shaking or maybe my terrified expression must have excited him. His face blossomed into a deep shade of red, and he ran his tongue along his teeth. “Keep looking at me like that and I might not be able to resist.”

I swallowed down hard, turning from him as quickly as I could. Shakily, I looked around in the upper cabinets for a bowl I could crack the eggs in, which was much harder than I’d like to admit in handcuffs. The rest of my efforts went to pretending I couldn’t feel his horrid stare on my backside. “Is scrambled okay?”

He made a small humming noise which I took as acceptance. He had taken to leaning against the opposite cabinet nonchalantly, using his knife to clean out underneath his fingernails. I started cracking the eggs in the bowl, trying to focus on the cooking instead of him.

I wasn’t sure how many he’d want, so I just used as many as we had left. I used the spatula as best as I could to beat the eggs into a yellow slurry before reaching down and pulling a small pan out from underneath the oven and putting it on the stove. Something so simple seemed so terrifying with the knowledge that Strade was so close.

It did occur to me that I might be able to use the pan to fend him off, but frankly between the stunted movement of my arms and his overbearing form, I decided against it. He’d probably just take the pan and knock me clean over the head with it. If I was going to play the attack card, I needed the advantage.

I noticed he was being uncharacteristically quiet, which was exceptionally unnerving. I didn’t know where his mind was wandering, but whatever it was, I had to put a stop to it. If I could steer his mind somewhere that didn’t involve more of my blood, I had to do it.

“The um...” I paused briefly, not entirely sure what I wanted to say. As I poured the eggs into the pan, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, he was staring pretty intently at me, waiting for me to speak.  “The cut on your chest is pretty nasty. You should probably clean it.”

I turned over my shoulder and looked at him. He had a surprised look on his face, eyebrows raised and slow blinking. He stared at me for a few moments before looking down, prodding at the shreds of his black undershirt and across the deep, marred flesh that crossed his chest courtesy of me. He rubbed his fingertips together, trying to dust off some of the dried blood that wiped on his fingers. It looked like he had managed to patch up his arm but didn’t have time to get to his chest before I woke up.

“I suppose you’re right, Schatz.”

I was moving the egg batter around in the pan but stiffened when I noticed Strade approach the sink beside me. He chucked his knife aside, turning the faucet on and digging his fingers underneath his tank top. He yanked it over his head, chucking the discarded clothing in the sink under the running water.

He was completely shirtless now, and I tried to recall if I’d ever seen him quite this naked before. It was odd to say the least since we had technically slept together (if you could call it that) but there was something too familiar, too personal about seeing him do something like this. I don’t think I’d ever seen so much of his skin, let alone his bare chest. Then again, we didn’t have the most normal relationship.

It was strange. His stomach was dusted with tufts of hair, particularly on his upper chest and then kicking back up again near his happy trail where it thickened again. Considering his heritage, that didn’t surprise me, but what did strike me is how tan he was. I guess I hadn’t really noticed it before, with the torture and all. While he was definitely a bigger guy, he was also fairly built, large muscles tucked away under the layer of chub on his tummy and arms. All things considered, he would have been a very handsome man, were it not for his dirty little secret.

His golden eyes peered intently downward, lip gently clenched between his teeth in concentration as he palmed water in his hands and washed over the crossed, jagged slices on his chest. They looked painful, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He ripped a few paper towels, dabbing the wounds gently and wiping away at the excess blood.

“Your attention is flattering, Hase.” His gaze slowly turned up to mine and a deceptively soft smile curled across his face.

“I wasn’t staring, I just-“ What was I doing, exactly? “That looks bad. I was going to offer you a bandage or something. You might want to wrap it.”

His grin turned patronizing, lowering his eyelids and tilting his head. “We can pretend that’s what you were doing if you want.”

I scowled, turning back to the eggs that were beginning to cook. “I take it that’s a no then.”

“Don’t worry, little one. Of all the nasty little injuries I’ve seen in my days, this one barely holds a candle.” He scoffed, waving his hand around before picking his knife back up off the sink. “You are quite good with this knife though. Knew just how to make it hurt.”

“Good.” I huffed out under my breath.  

“See?” Strade chucked the bloody paper towels on the counter and stepped toward me, playing with a lock of my hair in his fingers. “There you go again. You know what that kind of talk does to me.”

I rolled my eyes, making a noise of disgust as I turned my attentions back toward the food. I pretended not to notice that Strade pulled away from me, opting to stand menacingly in my peripheral watching me for a few moments before moving back behind me where I could no longer see him.

That made me anxious. Very, very anxious.

It wasn’t until he pressed himself against me that I began to panic. I could feel him leaning down, his breath on the back of my neck. I almost jumped when I felt his hands on the low of my hips, the metal handle of his knife pressed against my hip bone.

Fuck me.

“You know, you’re precious like this.” His free hand crawled up my stomach, making its way to my ear where he pushed the stray strands of hair back behind it. I had to swallow down the bile when I felt his upper body fall against my back, his mouth right in my ear. “Cooking me breakfast. Worrying about me. My little domestic hausfrau.” He let his arm wander down and rest on my shoulder, curling around my neck slightly. “A man could get used to that.”

“Could a man get used to having his head smashed repeatedly with the heaviest object his ‘frau’ can find? Because that’s what you’re going to get.” I hissed through my teeth, scraping the forming egg clumps from the bottom of the pan.

Another dark laugh bubbled up from deep in his chest. His grip on my neck tightened uncomfortably, and he allowed his full body weight to push into me, trapping me between him and the hot stove. The thing that made me almost swallow my tongue, however, was the unmistakable hardness I felt from his pelvic region pushing against my lower back.

“I can think of several better uses for your mouth rather than sassing me.” The hand with the knife slowly crawled upward, trailing the edge up my stomach and neck, pushing only hard enough to sting slightly. When he reached my face, he turned the blade, pressing the flat bit against my cheek.

“Strade-“ I started, the gravity of the situation setting in. Very hot stove in front. Very dangerous stab-happy man in back. This had to be the world’s worst threesome.

“Let’s play a little game, Hase.” He pulled the knife from my face, opting to grab my hand that was holding the pan straight instead, clenching his fist against my knuckles. “Put your hand on the stove.”

“What? No!” I almost tried to buck him off, but he dug the blade into my joints, letting a small stream of blood drip down onto the ceramic. I whined in pain, looking over at him pleadingly.

His maniacal smile was back, and he bumped my backside with his hips, sending my upper body lurching forward as my legs collided with the oven. “I wasn’t asking.”

“Strade, please, I need that hand to cook your food with! I can’t cook for you if my hand is burnt to shit!”

He gave me a faux look of disappointment, wrapping his fingers harshly around my hand before slamming it down in the middle of the stove; thankfully away from a heating plate. “I thought we were becoming so close. You know I like to give you a choice in these things. You might not even get hurt at all.”

The literal pain in my neck from his romantic idea of fellatio said otherwise.

Whatever it was he wanted, I knew it was pointless to fight. He was getting excited, breathing heavy and beginning to sweat heavily from his chest and neck. I could feel his front beginning to stick to my back from his overexcitement. I just needed to get it over with quickly. I could take it. Just handle him until they got home.

“O-okay. I’ll play.”

“Nettes Mädchen.” His grip loosened on my neck, clawing down and making a point to grab and knead my breast before moving down and playing with the band of my shorts. “I want you to beg.”

I was taken back a little bit. Begging, in the grand scheme of things, was easy. If he wanted me to beg, sure.

“Strade, please.”

He laughed, nipping at my neck. The hand on my lower body started teasing down the elastic, slipping down to my private areas. I squirmed, feeling his hands dip low, violating me.

“Eager, hmm?” One of his feet harshly kicked my legs further apart, rubbing his groin on the back of my shorts. Two of his fingers found their way between my folds, stroking gently. “Good.”

I sucked in a breath. His calloused fingers, as much as I hated it, felt good. At least until I felt a sharp pain in my hand and yelped, seeing him dig the knife far enough into my hand to make it bleed. A small bit of blood coated his blade before he pulled away, reaching down to the front of the stove and switching on one of the burners. The one directly adjacent to my hand.

He began rubbing me gently in small, controlled circles. I maneuvered the spatula around, if only to maintain a small amount of control as he manhandled me. I closed my eyes as he loosened his grip, holding back a sigh of relief.

His bloody knife tangled slightly in my hair as he brought his hand up and stroked my head. An uncharacteristically gentle act. “I want you to scream.”

As quickly as his gentleness came, it left. He yanked my hair, forcing my head back, letting the tip of the blade run along my scalp. “I like when you scream for me. Scream for my hands, or the knife, or even the burn. But you will scream. And you can even choose!” He sounded giddy for a moment until his voice darkened. “Or I will.”

I didn’t need to see his face to know the look on it. The same one he gave me when he pulled out the knife the first time. The same one he got in the alley way. Pink and flushed and needy. Enthusiastic. Excited in anticipation of what was to come. Or who.

“You’ll come undone by your hands,” he picked my hand up and held it by the burner, reveling in my uncomfortable worming for a moment before returning it back to its original position. “Or mine.” His fingertips stopped rubbing me, finding its place at my opening.

“Understand?” He leaned his head down by mine, pulling on the strands of my hair tangled in his fingers.

I swallowed, trying to think about the situation. There wasn’t an answer but yes. Strade did not take ‘no’ for answer. Even if I entertained the notion, he’d either cut me or burn me anyway. There was a part of me that felt him beneath my bottoms too, understanding that just letting go and giving over to him might be the best option.

For my pride? No. For my well-being and continued breathing? Absolutely.

I nodded, swallowing down hard and trying to finish the food in front of me. I can do this. I’ve survived Strade before. I can do this.

“Let’s play then.” He whispered in my ear, slowly pushing a thick finger inside me. I couldn’t help but gasp as he worked his way in, keeping his thumb padding against my sensitive nerves. I hadn’t been with anyone, not since the last time with him, and it’s like I had somehow been expecting him. My fear only served to heighten the sensations he gifted me.

I could feel the heat of the stove against my free hand, understanding the consequences if I disappointed him, but his actions were already making my knees weak. I couldn’t help but grind into his hand, trying to push him deeper, work him further against me.

I felt him smile into my hair, adding in a second finger. A moan left my lips as he nudged it inside as well, curling his fingers slightly as my body yielded to him. I tried to mix the eggs again, seeing the slight burned brown beginning to appear on the bottom, but I couldn’t focus as his fingers began thrusting harder, his thumb actively circling my clit.

I let my head fall against his shoulder, breathing heavy as his finger fucked into me. At least until I felt my alternate hand maneuvered close enough to the burning stove to panic me. The heat wasn’t quite so intense as to hurt, just enough to for me to feel waves rolling off the burning metal and onto my hand. Squealing, I tried to rip my hand away, only for Strade to hold it down in a cruel grip, never stopping his ministrations.

“You like it, don’t you?” He giggled, curling his fingers further and dragging them against my walls, coaxing a loud noise from me. I was acutely aware of the danger I was in, but it didn’t stop me from thrusting my lower body against him, trying to give him deeper access. I exhaled, letting my head drop and allowing him to do to me what he wanted. He obliged me, pressing his thumb deeper and oscillating his fingers, rubbing his growing erection against the thin layer of fabric that was my shorts.

I bit my lip, refusing to answer him. If I had to cum for him, fine, I guess, but there was no way in hell I was going to admit that I actually enjoyed it. He continued regardless, pushing his fingers deeper inside me until I could feel the dripping wetness leaking between my thighs and onto his palm.

“See? You don’t have to say anything. You tell me everything I need to know.” He licked across the clotted wound on my neck, delighting in the response he had elicited from me.

“I-it’s a fucking-“ I breathed out, trying to keep my voice even. “Uncontrolled r-response. It doesn’t mean I want this.”

Wow. Even I didn’t believe me. I might as well have said ‘Fuck me Strade, fuck me now.’

“Whatever you have to tell yourself. You can’t lie to me. I know you.” He removed his other hand from my wrist, releasing me from the precarious situation my hand was in near the burner, opting to reach back up to my breast instead. He yanked my top down, rolling and harshly tugging my nipple between his fingers. Liquid fire shot straight between my legs, and a loud mewl escaped my throat as I bucked into him.

He chuckled, groping and kneading as he continued pumping his hand. I could smell the eggs burning, and I knew somewhere in my mind that I needed to stir it, but I couldn’t bring myself to move, too busy laxing into him and losing myself in his touch.

“Move your hand closer.” He muttered, trying to give the strain in his pants some relief against my thigh.

“Mmm?” I stuttered out, eyes closed and mouth slightly agape. Fuck it felt good it felt really really good and-

“Näher!” He seethed, bumping my arm with his body until I lurched into the stove again. My hand. He wanted me to move my hand.

Shakily, I moved my hand even closer to the rim. The heat was intense now and leaving it here for too long would dry my skin into complete rawness, slowly weakening and cracking the skin. A slow burn. Seems fitting. It was beginning to hurt, but the sensation wasn’t nearly as overwhelming as his fingers invading me.

“You’re getting close.” He huffed, practically dry humping me into the stove.

“I can see that.” I mumbled, glancing down at my hand through heavily eyelids.

“Not what I meant.” He began maneuvering quicker, and I threw my head back on his shoulder, whimpering pathetically. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to plead for him, urge him to go harder, faster, cry his name and cling on to him.

“J-Jesus fuck-“

My cursing only spurred him forward, thrusting me very rapidly into oncoming orgasm. I could hear my breaths getting more and more high pitched, abandoning the eggs and clenching both my hands on the warm porcelain as I threw myself forward. I was on the peak, about to go off the edge, just a little more, fuck just a little more fuck fuck fuck!

That’s when I heard it. The sound of the front door opening.

[bangtan-madi]

546 Days Without You — Six: Day 73

Pairing — Seokjin x Reader, also get bonus platonic!Jimin x Reader and platonic!Taehyung x Reader in this part

Tags — boyfriend!Seokjin, older brother!Yoongi, producer/songwriter!MC, military au (ish), idol au (ish)

Genre — fluff, angst

Word Count — 2.6k

Summary — Kim Seokjin is your entire world, and that world falls apart the moment he and your older brother Yoongi are conscripted into the South Korean military.

Part — 6 / 15

Warnings — None.

A/N — Taglist is open! Comment or submit an ask if you want to be added :) 

Previous — Next

“You know what would be really cool?” Jimin says aloud, half to himself and half to whoever might be within earshot of hearing his voice. Which is nothing out of the ordinary.

“What’s that?” you reply, shifting your headphones off your head for the first time in over an hour. 

Behind the glass, you hear Jungkook going through his warm-ups. Another day, another recording session. This particular afternoon is for the Busan boys, and you were happy to have them in such good spirits. You knew that you were going to have some long months ahead, preparing for the new album, but now that the songs had all been written and pre-produced, now it was time to actually get in the booth and sing their hearts out.

Today’s just a run-through of the solos, as well as Jimin and Jungkook’s sub-unit duet. They were over the moon about the selection and begged you to be there to give them pointers. While the youngest warmed up for his solo, you’d settled in behind the glass with Seokjin’s song playing over and over in your ears. Even while reading music sheets, you loved hearing his voice. It gave you the placebo effect of him still being there, which was a welcome feeling after seventy-three days in the military. There hasn’t been a single album before Map of the Soul: Dream for which Seokjin or Yoongi haven’t been in the recording studio. It’s a strange situation for everyone, but between having another Min and some pre-recorded segments from the missing boys, everyone is managing their emotions satisfactorily.

The blond spins his chair around, his head lulling against the cushion with a grin plastered on his face. At this moment, curled up in the seat as the room twirls around him, he looks more like a five-year-old than a twenty-five-year-old.

“Nah, it’s not worth saying. You’ll never go for it.”

Tossing your headphones onto the table, you reach out and stop Jimin’s actions with the edge of your foot. He jolts to the side, giving you a small glare at the intervention.

“Park Jimin, you’d better start talking or else.”

Your best friend arches a playful eyebrow. “Or else what, Min [Y/n]?”

Narrowing your eyes at him in a way that mimics your older brother, you grab the younger boy’s right forefinger and twist it back, moving it in an unnatural way. It’s not enough to actually hurt him, just enough to get his attention.

Instantly, Jimin is contouring around your touch, trying to escape from your grasp. “Owowow! What the hell, Min!”

Having got his attention, you loosen your grip, even if only a little bit. You lean closer and look him directly in the eye. “Spill, Park—”

“—All right, all right! Aish, you’re persistent!”

You drop your grip and allow Jimin to slip his finger from your hold. As he glares daggers in your direction, you slump back into your chair with a pleased expression.

“Where did you learn to be so evil?” the younger member mutters under his breath, adding a hint of babying to his voice. “Crazy lady.”

Choosing to ignore the comment, you wave your hand. “Go on.”

Jimin rolls his eyes and gestures to the tablet behind you, laying on the desk. “I was just going to say…wouldn’t it be cool if you recorded something of yours? Something you wrote, lyrics and melody and everything?”

“For what?” you laugh, finding the idea hilarious. “Shits and giggles?”

He shakes his head, wicked and beautiful grin returning. “For the album!”

You roll your eyes and turn back to the work station. “Sure, I’m the crazy one.”

“Why is that so crazy?” Jimin asks, pushing his chair so it rolls over to the desk beside yours. He rests an elbow against the surface so he can look straight at you. “Tell me.”

“Because no one wants to hear my voice, Chim. Let alone on BTS’ album. People only know me ‘cause I’m the great Suga’s little sister.”

“I’ve heard your voice! It’s pretty, and you’ve learned how to rap, too. I’ve heard you practicing Yoongi’s work with him before it’s recorded. You’re every bit as good as he is. You’re like Jungkook, or Hobi, or Namjoon, or your brother. You’re a triple-threat: you can write, you can sing, and you can rap.”

Shaking your head, you shove the blond’s chair, causing the piece of furniture to shoot to the other side of the room. “You’ve got some praise kink, Jimin. I hope you’re not trying to flirt with me.”

Despite being pushed back, Jimin scoots over once more and continues, “That’s not what this is and you know it. I’m serious! I know you have your own melodies and lyrics you’ve written. Yoongi’s always talking about how proud he is of your work, and it used to get under Seokjin’s skin so much because you never shared with him. And if I’m honest, as your best friend, I’d like in on the fun, too!”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “It’s personal for me. What I create is very close to my heart.”

“And what we create isn’t?” Jimin pauses for a second. “Look, I’m not trying to convince you to do anything you don’t want to do. You’re one of my best friends. I wouldn’t do that. But there’s a big difference between wanting to keep your work private because you want it to be yours alone and being too scared to share.”

Something he says resonates with you on a deeper level, and you’re forced to consider both options. Are you just a private person, or are you scared? Does the weight of what people might think weigh you down, the idea that Min Yoongi's—the legendary Agust D and BTS’ Suga—own sister isn’t half as good as he is?

Maybe…

“Believe me, I know what the latter is like,” Jimin murmurs. “It’s a big reason I never shared a lot of what I wrote and let Yoongi and Namjoon do most of the lyrical work. With 'Friends,’ I finally broke out of my shell. And who sat me down and gave me a big 'you should do this for yourself’ talk?”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “That would be me, the obnoxious friend.”

He reaches for your hand. “I needed that then, and so I’m returning the favor because I believe you need that same advice now. You’ve been holding all this creative energy inside, and it’s only grown in the past few months as an outlet of healing. But you refuse to show anyone. I know low self-confidence when I see it.”

“I don’t have low self-confidence, Jimin.”

“Maybe not in most areas,” he agrees. “When it comes to sharing your own lyrics and melodies with the world? You do. You always shy away from it. You won’t even share it with Seokjin or me or the rest of us. Do you really think that we would ever judge you?”

“No,” you sigh in agreement.

Jimin sees he’s getting through, so he gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “So…to quote your own words back at you, do this for yourself, [Y/n]. If not for anyone else, do it for you. You don’t have to share it with the world, or the company, or us at first. But one of these days, get in that booth and record something spectacular. Then, one day, show someone what you can really do.”

You reach over and run your fingers over Jimin’s hair, messing with the shorter strands at the back of his neck. “This is why you’re my best friend, Chim. You always know just what to say.”

Jimin’s cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and he pulls you closer so he can wrap you in a tight hug. The Busan-native has always been physically affectionate, and it’s one of your favorite things about him. His touch is eternally warm and reassuring. Even in the darkest days, Jimin is a light you know you can walk towards.

Seokjin might be your sun—the object of warmth that you revolve around. Yoongi might be your moon—the emotional stronghold of a satellite that’s always been there. But Jimin is your stars—all the twinkling lights that give you grace in the night.

Your best friend lets you go, and you settle back into your producer’s chair as Jungkook slips his headphones over his ears, ready to begin the practice session.

“Let’s take this nice and easy first round, okay?” you say through the microphone. 

Jungkook gives you a smile and a thumbs-up. Jimin merely smirks and shakes his head.

“Have you ever known Jungkookie to go nice and easy on anything?”

“Oh, not at all, but it was worth a shot.”

Later in the day, after practice is finished and the Busan boys have wandered off to do whatever it is they wanted to do, you find yourself swinging by your oldest friend’s favorite burger joint. Taehyung had a hankering for this place ever since he first went there, but that was almost seven years ago. If you recall correctly, it was the place you both stopped on your way to Big Hit for the first time since he joined the group. You would have thought that the hunger for this hole-in-the-wall diner would have been sated by now, but you couldn’t be more wrong.

And that greasy, delectable burger is your secret weapon.

After grabbing take-away for you both, knowing his favorite order by heart, you scurry off to the dorms. Holding the paper bags in one hand, you hammer the other on his door. The jazz playing on the other side quiets, and the door opens moments later.

“On a scale of one to Winter Bear, how creative do you feel tonight?”

Taehyung cocks an eyebrow. “Are you implying that Winter Bear is the epitome of creative?” His eyes shift down to the bags in your grasp, eyes slightly widening as he spots the logo. “What’s that?”

You lift the bags and unceremoniously shake them in his face. “You wanna help me with something?”

His boxy grin appears, quickly turning sneaky as he grabs the bags and giggles. “You know just how to bribe me, [Y/n].”

Ruffling the taller man’s curly dark hair, you retort, “You’re not too hard to please, Tae.” Reaching for his free hand, you thread your fingers through his and tug him down the hall. “C'mon. I need your artistic expertise.”

After seeing you taking him towards Genius Lab, Taehyung asks, “Wait, why do you need my help? And on what, again?”

You press the code and usher him inside. Once seated on the sofa, Taehyung begins unpacking the meal. You take your usual perch in Yoongi’s studio chair and roll over towards Taehyung, scooping your burger from the coffee table and taking an enormous bite.

“I had a talk with Jimin today while we were waiting for Jungkook to warm up.”

Taehyung smirks and takes a bite out of his own, resting back against the sofa with his attention split between you and the meal. “Should I be scared to ask what about?”

With your free hand, you pull your notebook of melodies and toss it in Taehyung’s direction, feeling your heart rate quicken at the thought of someone else seeing your innermost creative work. Forcing those fears away, you nod towards it and encourage him to open it.

Your companion, sensing that this is something important to you by the way you stay silent, puts his burger down and gently picks up the notebook. With tender fingers, he flips from one page of drafted melodies to the next, seeing approximately a decades’s worth of what you consider your best work. 

For several minutes, the room is silent. He doesn’t touch his food, nor does he speak up. He merely observes the work on each page with wide and curious eyes. Taehyung isn’t one to keep his attention on anything for very long, especially when his favorite take-away is a foot in front of him. The thought gives you butterflies, and you can only hope his attention is focused on the good and not the bad.

“Are these the melodies you only show Yoongi?” he eventually asks, his voice deep and quiet.

You nod. “Until now. You’re the second person to see them, and I’m not sure even Yoongi has seen all of them.” Another beat of silence passes, and you start to squirm in your seat. “Well, what—what do you think?”

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head as he looks up at you for the first time since seeing your work. “I think you’ve been holding out on us.” He gestures to the pages. “I’ve never been the best at reading sheet music, but I can play all of these in my head and they sound beautiful. You have a talent, [Y/n]. Really, and you know I don’t say anything I don’t mean so don’t doubt it when I say these could all be songs in and of themselves.”

A heavy sigh of relief slips from your lips. “Oh, thank god. You were so quiet. I thought…” You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“And I’m honored to be the second person to see them, by the way.” He hands your notebook back to you, handling it like some sort of precious treasure. “What on earth did Jiminie say to make you change your mind after all these years?”

“You know Jimin,” you chuckle. “He’s got a silver tongue.” Taehyung scoffs in agreement. “But he didn’t tell me anything I didn’t need to hear. 'You love being creative, [Y/n]. It’s your outlet. Why don’t you combine your melodies and lyrics and record something for once?’”

The brunet’s head perks up. “Record? Like…you would sing?”

You make a noncommittal gesture with your hands. “I was considering it. I mean, I love to sing when I’m by myself. Sometimes I sing around Seokjin, and I’ve helped Yoongi practice his parts, both pre- and post-production. Jimin thinks I can rap and sing, and I’ve done both for a while…”

Taehyung’s boxy grin returns, even bigger than when he saw what food you’d brought him. “I think it’s a great idea! I’ve heard you sing in bits and pieces and always thought you had a pretty voice. How can I help?”

You tug a second notebook from the desk and hold it up. “These are newer. They’re my lyrics. I’ve…written a lot these past few months. It’s been a healing experience, but I’m struggling with putting lyrics to melodies. Your music gives me—and everyone—immense comfort, and they’re always blended seamlessly. I was hoping you could help me figure this out. It’s no fun doing all this alone all the time.”

The man from Daegu nods fervently. “No way I’d rather spend my evening.” He shoves the remaining bits of his burger into his mouth and makes grabby hands towards your notebooks. “We’re going to need a couple of plain sheets of music, a new notebook, all the colored pens you can find, and a bottle of wine. You get the first three, and I’ll get the last. Do you prefer red or white?”

You shake your head as Taehyung bounces excitedly off the sofa and towards the door. “You’re going to pick red no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t stop moving as he shouts over his shoulder, “Absolutely!”

Taglist — @joyful-jimin, @gracehiii​, @live-2-fangirl​

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter One

Word Count: 2103 THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: A new recruit is brought into the fold and is more than a handful.

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, non-graphic violence (brief)

A/N:  You may have seen me over @fabtasticass which is my main blog. So this is my first fanfic and it's going to be a big one. It is a Soulmates AU but not in the traditional way. That won't show up until later chapters. I'm going to try to keep endgame a secret the best I can. I have some very angsty ups and downs planned but I'm trying to hold back. So I’ll tag each chapter with what pairing might be in that chapter in the official Tumblr tags but never at the beginning.

I ran, dodging rats, and clumps of unidentified garbage that lay literal feet from a plethora of garbage cans and dumpsters. God, I hated this city.

I especially hated this city in the rain, dashing through back alleys of Queens with all of my belongings in tow.

Rolling in and out of huge asphalt craters, my suitcases jostled my already pained arm. It had only been three or so hours since I’d reset the dislocated joint against my fire escape.

Blood dripped from a split along my hairline, mingling with sweat and city rainwater. At this point, I felt like a drowned cat and probably smelled like a wet dog. Super, awesomely attractive, right?

Bracing myself against the wall of the nearest building, I pulled a flask out of the interior pocket of my jacket and took a swig. The flask was light pink with the words “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” emblazoned on the side. It filled me with a dark sense of glee and irony every time I used it. I nicked it from one of those chain party supply stores a few months back, which I supposed could be my version of fun.

The whiskey burned as it went down but as it hit my stomach it helped to warm my rain-soaked bones.

I began moving again. As I wove in and out of the misshapen piles in the alleyway, I felt the hair prickle on the back of my neck. It felt like I had a curious pair of eyes, tracking my every move and staring me down. I ignored my most basic instinct to turn around and investigate and my training kicked in instead. My eyes swept the alleyway ahead of me, monitoring the shadows, ears open and head down. I checked every shiny surface to see the reflection behind me. Empty alleyways are all that I was shown. So I shoved aside my intrusive paranoia and started whistling tunelessly as I moved. I’d felt that prickle for days and nothing had come of it.

In front of me, business lights filtered through the rain, casting a glow over the stone walls. Wet, sputtering and a little drunk, it only made sense that I was the target of some less friendly men who had stationed themselves outside of a local dive bar. They jeered and reached out at me. ��Piss off you assholes, I’m not in the mood.”

Their demented shouts ranged from demands that I take off my clothes, false coos asking me if I needed their help to warm up and jokes about them being so good in bed women were jumping at the chance and willing to move in with them immediately to lock it down.

The rain got harder as I clenched my fist, glaring daggers at them and trying to subtly move faster. Everything about my body language screamed 'don't fuck with me', but it's hard to be intimidating when you're a generous 5'3. They advanced anyways and with a woosh, they all got tossed back into the brick wall, hard. The crack of a few skulls echoed down the empty alley, interrupted only by their groans as a few immediately came to.

The tingling on the back of my neck got more intense, this time joined by a fuzzy feeling alarm in the back of my brain. I hustled along, eager to get the hell out of Queens. I hadn't taken more than three steps when I heard him. “Woah, what was that? I webbed up those guys back there, they won't be able to move for a few hours. What was that though, can you like manipulate energy or is this outside the realm of earthly physics? Are you an alien? Or a mutant maybe? Or..."

Without looking up I sent another blast towards the overly excited voice and immediately heard an oomph followed by the sound of a body rushing towards the pavement. Or, rather, a dumpster.

“Hey not cool,” said the guy, poking his head up and out of the dumpster.

I groaned, immediately recognizing the mask, despite it being covered in what looked a lot like smashed avocado on the left side of the heroes head. Spider-Man.

Pushing my bags together, around my feet, I bound them to myself and alighted on the nearest rooftop, gently floating upward. I figured the enhanced cat was already out of the bag with the current company, so to speak. I ran along the flat roofs of the decrepit, abandoned buildings with still no destination in mind but out.

“Wait up, where are you going, stop! We're friends now right? It's rude to ignore your friends, and I'm the friendliest of friends, you know. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all...” he babbled on lamely, his voice fading in and out as he swung between buildings, keeping up as I hopped from roof to roof.

“Buzz off buggy”, I grumbled before sending another shot his way.

“You’re really bad at paying attention to where I am, aren’t you” Spidey suddenly whispered in my ear. I shrieked and came to a halt, dropping my luggage next to me as I sat to dangle my feet off the ledge of whatever shitty building I was on now. As expected, that lanky ass fool sat down right next to me.

“So, where are you going, miss uh… strange power lady?”

“I don’t kno-” I cut myself off and looked at him strangely. “Wait, why are you even here?”

“Well funny story," he huffed out, looking over at me. His masked eyes contracted as he continued to just look at me in silence for several minutes. I was seconds away from physically shoving him off of the building. For someone who apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut when I wanted him to, he was as silent and one of those monks now when I actually wanted to hear his whiny voice. Then, just as I was about to snap, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"Have you ever heard of the Avengers?”

Like any normal person on the planet, I obviously had. I may not have been in New York while it was being leveled by aliens over a decade ago, but a person would have to be seriously deprived of outside stimuli to not know who the Avengers were.

Instead of speaking to the impertinent, entirely too perky Avenger at my side, I just glared, sending a message loud enough that even the most inept individual would comprehend me.

“Woah, woah, don’t shoot! You could be like, a really weird and reclusive alien for all I know at this point. The boss didn’t exactly give me all the details when he sent me out to trail you. I don’t even know your name, which tells me that we actually don’t know a whole lot about you…,” he trailed off his rambling as he finally realized I was now staring at him expectantly, waiting to get a word in edgewise.

“My name is Kaida, and I’m not a good person. Also, thanks for the invitation to join your little cult, but I’m going to have to pass.” I stood to leave and find shelter for tonight when all of a sudden a schnick sounded and webbing surrounded my foot, holding me in place.

That sneaky little son of a bitch.

“No can do, we’re going to talk this one out. Either you agree to come in and meet the team or you get to sit here all night and listen to me ramble about them and what ridiculously stupid things we’ve all been up to in the past few months. Your call… Kaida.” He said my name as though it could take form, leap up and bite him.

“Okay Spider, I see you want to play hardball. You take that mask off and I’ll come with you to ‘meet the team’ or whatever touchy-feely bullshit y’all are into over there. But I’m not agreeing without some kind of skin in the game other than my own.” I lifted my chin, triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that he would never reveal his identity to a complete stranger, especially while various factions of the government and private entities were trying to round up enhanced individuals.

Spidey scoffed. “That’s it? It’s not like I was going to leave it on once we got to the tower anyways so, here you go I guess,” and he ripped away his mask as though it didn’t faze him in the slightest.

He was… younger than I had expected. Cute, in a safe, boring schoolboy kind of way.

“What are you, twelve??” I all but shouted at him. There’s no way this kid was the real deal, a bona fide Avenger that had helped save numerous lives, my own included if you count what happened just a few years back.

“I’m twenty-two, thanks though. If I’m twelve, I’ve gotta say you’re a toddler. Granted, a toddler with wicked skills but it’s not like you’re even really an adult at this point, are you? Why aren’t you with your pare-.”

“For one thing, they’re dead. Secondly, I’m twenty but I guarantee you I’ve seen shit that you can’t really even comprehend. Even outside of all the crazy whack alien bullshit you all seem to be attracting. It really ages a person, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh look at you, pulling the big bad ‘I’m so tough because I’m an orphan and my life wasn’t sunshine and roses’ act. Literally, everyone has bad shit happen to them. From what I’ve just seen and from what we’ve caught on security monitors, you’re wickedly talented and could actually use your powers to help others. Unless you’re too much of a coward, I know we do deal with ‘crazy whack aliens’ and all, but it shouldn’t be hard for a big kid like yourself, huh?”

I had half a mind to blow him off the roof right then and there. Rage swirled in the pit of my gut so violently, I might have vomited had I eaten at all in the past day or so. The wind picked up and began buffeting around the Spider guy and myself, throwing debris from decrepit roof and buildings towards us. All of the shrapnel conveniently avoided my person, but Spidey was dancing back and forth like a puppet on a string.

Deep breaths Kaida, deep breaths. We wouldn’t want another Wizard of Oz-esque incident. Again. I often found myself talking to myself in different perspectives to calm down. Anger, improperly channeled was a very dangerous thing for me, and honestly, I was being a brat just like he was. No need to level an entire city block just for this one intrusive, presumptuous asshat who dressed up like a fucking spider. I wasn’t about to tell him that though.

The wind died down almost immediately. Until it didn’t.

Not a minute later, the biggest bolt of lightning I’d ever seen struck a building a block or so away, no doubt short-circuiting every device plugged in at that residence. Two seconds later there was a solid thunk and next to Spider-Man loomed perhaps the most handsome being in the known universe, Thor. King of Asgard.

“You hit your panic button Man of Spiders. Are you in need of assistance… carrying bags?” Thor looked at you, tied down, and your bags tossed askew, then back at Spidey. Quizzically, he opened his palm and sent a burst of lightning up into the sky, as if looking for something. “All seems to be in perfectly good spirits here, no strange magics… so.”

“Listen, man, two minutes ago she was literally shaking the building so hard I thought we were all going down. I just don’t know how… all I did was ask her some questions, maybe play hardball with her a little,” he just shrugged at the god apologetically.

“Hi, I exist too, and I can speak for myself,” I asserted, repositioning my body so I wasn’t standing quite so hunched over. “We,” I continued, looking at Spidey, “would love your assistance in getting my bags back to wherever this team inspection or meeting is supposed to happen.” Anything to get inside and secure, before I lost it completely.

“As you wish, Lady of the Winds,” Thor almost yelled, thrusting a cane into the sky.

“No, Thor wai-.”

Before the insect could finish whatever he was trying to say, we were engulfed in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and rushed away in the blink of an eye.

So much for having a normal, Wednesday evening.

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters (I have 28 written) drop me a message or reblog this!! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[sailor-cresselia]

The Great Ex-Aid Rewatch: SPECIAL EDITION! Ex-Aid “Tricks”, Kamen Rider Genm

…Oh, no, I’m stuck with tv-nihon subs again, since apparently nobody else got around to subbing the Genm specials. Welp.

Like, I do want to say, right off the bat, that I’m grateful that they sub pretty much everything, but the formatting tends to sleave… a lot to be desired.

Anyway, here we go, with the awful legend rider forms and the first time we see that bright yellow should never, ever be put onto the Ex-Aid suit.

Ever.

––

We open in Dan Kuroto’s secondary lair, panning over the first fourteen Heisei Legend Rider Gashats. I am struck by the realization that I like the colors they used for these a whole lot more than the Ridewatches.

Kuroto’s also just got a Ganbarazing game cabinet in here, implying that the game is a joint project between Genm Corp and Bandai in-universe. This implication is only further enforced when he holds up three unlabeled gashats in front of the cabinet, data streams from the screen into them, and they gain labels of their own.

Introducing the Legend Rider Gashats “Magic the Wizard,” “Toukenden Gaim,” and “Full Throttle Drive.”

Legend Rider Gashat names are weird.

Kuroto says that he finally has them – gashats with the powers of legends.

…Okay, so this implies that you went and got battle data from the other 14 Heisei Riders, but I’m just saying that might have been a little difficult in a lot of cases. You know, seeing as Godai doesn’t transform because of the risk of going monstery, Kenzaki is basically in hiding while wandering the world most of the time, nobody ever knows where Tsukasa is, and Takumi is just flat out dead at the moment.

(Right here is where, up until this week, I would have thanked Zi-O for fixing two of these issues, but nooooo.)

(gfdi Sougo.)

––

After the title screen, Emu and Asuna are walking through a park, where apparently Kuroto’s called them out to meet.

…Actually, now I kind of wonder why half of the time, early-series Poppy refers to Kuroto as ‘Genm’s CEO’. Straight up using those terms, or ‘chief,’ or similar. Later on, she’ll use his name, but… like, she knows who he is. She’s not unfriendly with him. I know it’s probably some sort of formality thing that I’m not picking up on, but it still feels weird.

Anyway, he’s called them up to get back the Kaigan Ghost gashat. They’re walking, right up until a Gekitotsu Robots Collabos bugster steps out into view. Emu, being an absolute sweetheart, asks Takeru to lend him his power as he readies the gashat.

…I still don’t like the legend rider helmets.

There’s a distinct problem in his choice of gashat, however. Namely, he’s using a squishy mage form against a heavily armored robot, meaning his punches have less than no effect, and he gets sent flying just by being sideswiped by not-Gatton’s fist.

Kuroto runs up, asking if Emu’s alright.

No, no he’s not, but he’s also more concerned with making sure you stay safe, because as far as he knows, you can’t do jack to defend yourself.

Kuroto looks ‘taken aback’ by the sight of not-Gatton, and tells them that the gashat in it’s head is proto-gekitotsu robots, one of the gashats that Dr Pac-man had stolen, and asks them to get it back for him.

Emu, being Emu, immediately agrees, and runs off to go fight again, despite having just gotten knocked on his ass. Kuroto hastily opens the breifcase he’s carrying, and tosses Emu the Full Throttle Drive gashat.

Said Gashat, when activated, briefly summons an energy Tridoron out of the Game Start screen, which promptly goes and hits not-Gatton. This car also promptly disappears off screen.

(At this point, my torrent of a higher-quality version of this special finishes, and I get some much cleaner visuals. Looks like I’d been using the lower-res one, and this is much better. Also, some of the wording has been fixed up. Emu’d said that he’d made a ‘newb mistake’ in his choice of using Ghost in the DVD version, but in this one he says a ‘huge mistake.’ Much better.)

I’d like the Drive armor, because the general aesthetic converts far better into an Ex-Aid suit than Ghost’s does, but… there’s that stupid eyepiece overlapping with the eyes on the Drive helmet. This is the only problem I have with the anime eyes on the gamer suits – that the frames stick around in the legend forms, cutting into the rest of the visuals. That’s it.

As Emu starts wailing on not-Gatton with his shiny new Steering Sword, Kuroto admits that he was collecting battle data during the fight against Dr. Pac-man. We have a brief shot of him just. Lurking around a column and watching Shinnosukes fight against Robol’s minions, with a notebook in hand. Because that’s totally how he usually collects battle data. Sure.

Whatever. Anyway, Emu thinks that’s really impressive, beats on not-Gatton some more, and readies a finisher. I can’t even get mad at TV-Nihon’s typesetting habits for making the announcement a nigh-illegible red with white pinstripes, because they’re just matching what the show already had on screen, so this one’s on Toei. (Toei had a better font choice, though.)

Also, the background for the attack title card is a road, with a pair of Type Speed tires in the corners. The energy Tridoron makes a re-appearance to let Emu do Shinnosukes base finisher, and not-Gatton gets the Proto Gekitotsu Robots gashat knocked out of him.

Impressed by Drive’s power, Emu tosses the proto gashat back to Kuroto, and Asuna reminds himt hat he still needs to actually finish off the bugster.

Whoops. That warning came a little late, because the Collabos shoves the Proto Giri Giri Chambara into it’s forehead slot, and immediately goes to slice Asuna and Kuroto.

…Okay, I did not remember this – Kuroto shouts for her to look out, shoves her out of the way, and gets his back slashed in her place. As in, he’s knocked to the ground. And bleeding.

I’m pretty sure that’s for real on his part, I don’t think Kuroto expected his minion to do actually attack him. He does, however, still manage to pass Emu the Toukenden Gaim gashat, saying that since the enemy’s using a katana, this would be a better choice.

He’s right, of course, and I’m pretty sure this is, at least in part, him trying to stick to the plan, despite the ‘holy shit I am very injured right now’ factor.

The Gaim start screen opens a Helheim crack – my gaim-watching instincts immediately recoil – and the Orange Arms… well, orange drops onto Emu’s head, as robo-fruit are wont to do, at the same time as the level up screen passes by. So, he’s using both transformations here! That’s really neat!

Now please put that back because I do not want any more Helheim here than necessary thanks.

Gaim’s suit doesn’t translate nearly as well as Drives does. The flattened version of the eyes and chest piece just… they don’t do it for me. It looks like a cheap imitation. I mean, the non-chest and helmet parts of the armor work, but those… urgh. No.

Emu winds up chasing not-Kaiden down a path to another section of the park. Hah. Get it? Because part of Kouta’s armor announcement is ‘The flowered path’? I’ll see myself out.

Asuna comments to Kuroto that Emu’s doing amazing – except she’s not talking to him, because Kuroto’s taken off.

He’s leaning on the corner between a wall and holding wall for a grassy area, breathing very heavily and holding his side. He’s. He’s genuinely injured. And he’s pissed. I mean, he was sliced on the back, and he’s holding his side, but I can’t even say that it’s because he’s actually holding his driver, because he pulls that out with his other hand.

Also, uh, Rider Wiki? I have you open for easier access to names… and I don’t think ‘ruffled, but well’ is an accurate descriptor of Kuroto’s state when he hands over the Gaim gashat. Not if how he’s panting and pausing while he’s saying that that it’s time to enter the final stage of data collection is any indication.

Harutos very textured helmet, much like Kouta’s, does not translate well to the flattened image of the Ex-Aid helmets.

––

Looks like Emu and not-Kaiden have made it to another plaza, where Emu has since swapped out Kouta’s sword for his own, likely so he can actually use a proper sword-based finisher.

He wipes out not-Kaiden, and properly, this time. The proto Giri Giri Chambara gashat clatters to the ground, and the Collabos bugster appears to have finally been destroyed. Emu, cleraly remembering that there were three protogashats stolen, immediatley starts looking around, saying that “if there was a second, then there’ll be a third… Or not.”

He’s proven… sort of right, when a black and purple suit with a red and black longcoat steps into view.

“Aw, come on! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

The not-yet-named Black Ex-Aid doesn’t say anything, even after Emu realizes that “hey, you’re that asshole!” No, he just starts laying a beatdown, with lots of very Wizard-y kicks and arm strikes. Nice touch, having him use Haruto’s fighting style.

Kuroto starts up a finisher, to which Emu seems resigned to his fate of being about to take a Rider Kick to the face.

Getting knocked out of his transformation, Emu goes tumbling to the ground, the three legend rider gashats he’d been carrying clattering away.

Kuroto picks them up, switching back to his usual Proto Mighty Action X form. He activates all four gashats in turn, tossing them to the ground as their areas start generating. In his creepy, we-wish-you-had-stayed-silent disguised voice, he says that he’s obtained all the data, and the lights from the four gashats stream into one pale blue one.

Emu, picking himself up off, asks what that gashat is.

Black Ex-Aid doesn’t dignify him with an answer, instead going over to the still not defeated Collabos bugster, who is basically sprawled out on the ground. He kicks it into a sitting position, and sticks the newly-created Kamen Rider Ganbarazing gashat into it’s forehead.

This is about fifty percent payback for cutting him, I just know it. “You went off script, and now you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is an untested gashat taking control of your body, and summoning a game start screen that our local genius gamer has never seen before.”

…I really hope he picked up one of those regeneration energy items before he came out to kick ass and take data.

Anyway. Three ‘riders’ jump out of the screen before it goes blank. No, Emu, these aren’t actually them. These are Game World data copies, and they care not for your morals or history.

…Uh. The, uh. The hips of the Double suit have seen much better days. Those joint sections are completely falling apart. This isn’t like the issues with Takeru’s driver being grungy, or Kenzaki’s belt being really worn out during Zi-O, or the numerous dents in Decade’s armor. This is… it’s sad and it makes me sad.

The three ‘Riders’ advance menacingly on the very much not transformed Emu, before…

Before a figure in a white labcoat and yellow helmet shoves them away, and stands over Emu.

Kuroto: Wait, what.

Emu: Wait, what? Dr. Pac-Man?!

Kuroto asks what he just did.

Dr. Pac-Man just silently holds up three gashats, for Pac-man, Xevious, and Family Stadium.

See you next game.

––

Or, see you right now, because I’m going right into the second part!

Dr. Pac-Man momentarily stares down the three ‘Riders’, before pulling out his bugvisor – on the opposite arm from in the film – and firing, providing a distraction for him and Emu to get away.

Kuroto growls.

––

Dr. Pac-Man is basically dragging Emu by the arm to a warehouse as they run, before they come to a stop.

Emu asks, hurriedly, what Dr. Pac-Man is doing here. They defeated him!

“I have no idea how, mind you, but I’ve been assured that you were very much re-killed, and I’m willing to chalk Takeru’s reluctance to say anything up to his not quite remembering either after his near-death experience.”

Suddenly, a wild Taiga appears, punching directly for Dr. Pac-Man’s face… which is at about the same level as Emu’s, so when he dodges, Emu’s forced to leap out of the way, landing in a sprawled heap on the ground.

“So, you’re back from hell? We’ll just have to keep sending you back.”

“Wait, hang on!” Emu scrambles to his feet. “He did save me, this time!”

“That’s impossible.” Hiiro emerges from yet another column. Seriously, how did you two even know to be here? “I don’t know who that is, but we’ll just have to cut him out.”

The black Ex-Aid approaches, flanked by three figures whose suits have seen much better days.

Taiga, rather justifiably, assumes that they’re a new strain of bugsters. Emu quickyl puts a stop to that train of thought, saying that they’re fellow Kamen Riders… although they are being controlled as game characters.

Taiga’s still taking them out, though.

Dr. Pac-Man seems to approve, and tosses each of the three a Classic Namco Gashat. This pisses Kuroto right the hell off, and he pursues the now running Dr. Pac-man.

As the three inspect the new Gashats, they… well, Taiga admits they sure seem like the real deal.

Emu’s excited, because he’s a nerd and way too nice for all of this, and says that he told them Dr. Pac-Man was a good guy now!

EMU. Emu, you need to learn not to take strange gashats from people who are really, really ominous. I know this advice will go unheeded, but really. Survival instincts. You need them. Badly.

Hiiro agrees with me that your huge grin is entirely baseless, and as the imitation riders prepare to attack, the three real riders transform.

There’s some brief fighting, noticeably not in the matchups that they’ll be having soon, before Ex-Aid pulls out his new gashat. He winds up giving a quick description of Pac-Man while he’s basically got not-Fourze’s arm locked, and not-Fourze is trying to break loose from his grip.

Nice.

Brave shoves not-Double away, and describes Family Stadium, an old NES baseball game. …Okay, sorry, old Famicom baseball game, because this is in Japan. Also, I have to wonder how Hiiro of all people would know literally anything about video game history, much less that Famista basically set the standard for baseball games.

Snipe palm-strikes not-OOO off of him, and… says ‘let me try this.’ Are. Are the Namco Gashats somehow giving them these lines?! I mean, there’s no way they don’t have a heads-up display in their helmets, so… is this info just streaming from the activated gashats to the riders who would otherwise have absolutely no idea what they’re talking about? Because that is the only way I can see Taiga knowing anything about Xevious, including the name of the ship you pilot.

So, all three start up their newest gashats. Oddly, Pac-Man is the only one with an individualized name – Pac-Adventure – and Xevious doesn’t even get a jingle beyond the driver just saying ‘Xevious.’

Emu and Hiiro both charge their opponents, while Taiga, who is once again wearing a plane, makes the logical decision and activates stage select.

––

Snipe, now in a forest-esque stage, proceeds to engage in combat with not-Fourze, via copious use of miniguns and fists.

I like the Xevious recolor of Jet Combat a lot better than regular Jet Combat. The colors aren’t nearly as awful. The blue goes a lot better with Snipes usual color scheme than the garish orange. There’s a little too much linework from the source material, but I can let it pass for the better color scheme.

––

Ex-Aid and not-Double are in one of the many, many factory fight locales. They charge at eachother, but Ex-Aid leaps over Double’s punch, and books it in another direction.

I. I don’t like the Pac-Man armor. It’s a yellow and orange recolor of the torso section of Gekitotsu Robots. Color-wise, neither of them work with the bright magenta of Ex-Aid’s suit. The dark red of Robots looks out of place, more-so in motion than in static images,while the garishly bright yellow is just. It’s bad alongside magenta. It just is. The orange boxing glove fists don’t work, either.

…Actually, are those gloves from Knock-Out Fighter? Let me check real quick…

Oh. No, no they’re not. They get re-used for Ex-Aid’s version of Knock-Out Fighter 2, though.

––

Famista apparently doesn’t just equip it’s user with new armor, it comes with its own battlefield, a bugster baseball team, and gave not-OOO a baseball bat.

…Let’s just not ask why Hiiro, of all people, knows how to play baseball, and instead focus on the little baseball decals that get added to the speaker system for Doremifa Beat.

The red and white of this upgrade doesn’t quite suit Braves cyan, but it’s far and away better than what Emu got. Also, the baseball cap/visor? It has an ‘N’ on it, for Namco.

Additionally, Hiiro is able to throw a baseball so hard that it caught fire and blasted the bugster mook catcher and umpire into the wall.

I am no longer going to question anything Famista Gamer does, because that was awesome.

––

Snipe and not-Fourze exchange some decent punches, before not-Fourze remembers that he has switches! Including a rocket, which he uses to get in the air.

Snipe immediately follows suit with his jetpack, and they begin an aerial dogfight between Snipes miniguns, and not-Fourze’s gatling powerup.

I’m just going to assume that these gashats are giving the riders info, because I really can’t see Taiga knowing what the names of weapons and such are in here for any other reason.

Not-Fourze is shot out of the sky.

––

Meanwhile, Ex-Aid is running for his life. Because right now, he’s Pac-Man, and Pac-Man is on the defensive for most of his game.

It’s a nice touch that when we see Emu and not-Double running through new sections of the factory, the dots that were in the game projection disappear. They managed to get this right in the maze scene in the film, too. Nice attention to detail.

Same attention to detail goes to the small gust of green-lit wind at one point when not-Double’s Cyclone half punches, and the purple effects when his Joker half tries to land a kick.

Unfortunately for not-Double, this is right about where Emu finally finds the power pellet, and is able to fight back. To great effect, at that.

(Come on Toei, those grunts don’t sound anything like Shotaro!)

––

Snipe has unlocked a targeting system, and isn’t giving not-Fourze a chance to get airborne again. After a sizable amount of gunfire, he finally relents and just goes into his devastating finisher.

You can practically see the ‘oh crap’ on not-Fourze’s face before he gets defeated.

––

Brave manages to get a Strike on not-OOO, via the pitch going fast enough to just go right by him…

And also hit the poor, abused bugster umpire in the crotch.

The umpire and catcher feel true fear as Hiiro readies his finisher, but not-OOO still tries to hit the ball. All three of them get launched bodily into the air and explode.

––

Emu relents on his beatdown of not-Double – I feel awful about the things that poor stunt suit has gone through – and starts up his finisher.

Said finisher summons an energy Pac-man around him, and he jumps onto poor, poor not-Double. Energy Pac-man then eats said false rider, leaving only an explosion behind.

Emu realizes what I hadn’t with the other two riders, and that’s that there’s no ‘Game Clear’ announcement.

––

Poppy warps to the still unresponsive collabos bugster, who is just standing stock still as the blank Ganbarizing is projected from the gashat.

She spends a fair amount of time trying to get any reaction from it, including shouting at it, poking at the screen, and punching him, with distinct metallic clangs.

The Ganbarizing gashat flickers back into color, and the collabos’s eyes light back up. It starts going on the flailing, ineffectual offensive, chasing after Poppy.

This is just sad.

Even more sad is that Ex-Aid, in his usual armor, does a flying hip-check to knock it away from her. She takes this opportunity to get out of there.

“Now, let’s just get this gashat out of there… What’s Ganbarazing- ohhh no that didn’t work, you’re still flailing around and trying to attack me.”

Emu manages to kick the poor, useless collabos bugster away before inserting the Ganbarizing Gashat into his Gashacon Breaker for a finisher. This summons a floating swarm of Heisei Rider emblems into the air.

I like these, actually. They’re not the usual plain black silhouettes that the emblems usually are – they’re all colored, and some of them have multiple colors, namely Hibiki, Double, OOO, and Ex-Aid. It’s a nice touch.

They all merge into a giant version of the Ganbarizing logo, which Emu strikes with his hammer to blast it towards the Collabos bugster.

(Now is that thing dead?!)

I think it’s a bit early for you to say ‘Game Clear,’ Emu, or for Poppy to be giving any congratulations. I mean, this was cool, but we still haven’t heard the announcement.

And yup, they both realize that, as well, just in time for the Ganbarizing Gashat to start shaking, and pull itself out of the finisher slot in Emu’s hammer. This is fine.

It then proceeds to float into the Game Start screen, which is still here for some reason. This is fine.

Drumbeats and bells can be heard as a silhouette approaches within the screen, and pulls out a pair of drumsticks.

––

As all of that is happening, Kuroto’s still been chasing Dr. Pac-Man. He manages to corner him against a chain-link fence, and demands to see who he is. Pulling off the helmet, he startles.

Dr. Pac-Man still doesn’t speak, and holds up a Taiko no Tatsujin gashat, conveniently blocking his face.

See you next game

…Wait, what?! I thought I had- shit, now I have to find the third part in this mess of files.

…Okay, I guess I kept the DVD version for a reason, and that would be that the third segment of this was never individually subbed? I guess?!

FINE. Lower res, DVD quality it is.

––

Okay, cutting back into the unified version, with its horrible artifacting around the text, the shadowy figure hops out of the Ganbarizing Screen, and Ex-Aid and Poppy are brought face to face with not-Hibiki.

Somehow, Emu knows who he is, presumably the same way that the other guys knew about games, because nobody ever sees Hibiki.

Poppy doesn’t stick around for any more explanation, and runs the heck out of there.

Emu complains that he wasn’t done yet, as Dr. Pac-man walks up. Emu asks what happened to the black Ex-Aid, but receives exactly zero answer. Instead, he receives the Taiko no Tatsujin gashat, and gives some information on that.

He starts the finisher right away.

How better to fight the Oni drummer rider, than to play a drumming game on Oni difficulty?

And with the Ex-Aid character skin for Don-Chan when he starts up TV-Size Excite, no less!

The duel winds up being not-Hibiki launching small fireballs, which Ex-Aid cancels out with strikes from his gashat-supplied drumsticks. Once the majority of Excite is done, he truly activates the finisher, and the notes he hits during the repeated chorus start to charge up fire of their own… which grows to a massive fireball, which gets launched at not-Hibiki, defeating him.

Finally, finally, the Game Clear announcement plays.

Snipe shows up as Ex-Aid goe to pick up the Ganbarizing Gashat. He’ll be taking that, thank you very much.

Or not, if Brave has anything to say about it.

And it turns out none of them will be keeping any of their Namco gashats, since Dr. Pac-Man nyooms on in, and nabs all five from them in one go.

The black Ex-Aid shows up, and Dr. Pac-Man backs off as he takes the Ganbarizing gashat for a finisher.

Said finisher summons holograms of the previous Heisei Riders, in their pre-asskicking poses, before Genm leaps into the air, taking all of them along, and oh look that’s a whole lot of Rider Kicks aimed right at our heroes.

Fortunately, they aren’t hit by all 18 of them. Unfortunately, that’s because the holograms merge into a giant icon of the Ganbarizing logo, which Genm drops down through to kick all three heroes at once.

Nobody manages to keep their transformation once they hit the ground, and Genm just walks away.

Emu sums it up best. “What just happened?”

––

Back in his lair, Kuroto sets the Ganbarizing gashat next to the rest of the Legen Rider ones, saying that he finally has them all. I think the Showa Riders would beg to differ, but regardless.

Dr. Pac-Man comes in through the door. He has to duck a little to get through the frame, because of the helmet.

Kuroto turns around. “Take off that stupid helmet, already!”

Setting the helmet on the table, Parad smirks. “Come on, I was just having a little fun! You took off and got started without me, after all.” He sets three of the Namco gashats down on the table – the first three. Taiko no Tatsujin is nowhere to be seen.

As Parad calls dibs on Kuroto’s chair, Kuroto saunters over to where Parad left the mask. And. Uh. Starts… stroking it. While saying that everything is going according to plan.

Why. Why are you caressing it?! That’s… that’s like, a whole different level of creepy than the one you usually operate on!

Man. Now I’m going to be stuck on that for a while.

––

Anyway, that’s the Tricks: Genm special done! Not much to say about it that I haven’t already said in the liveblog, so I’ll just leave with one last comment.

The Dr. Pac-Man disguise is literally the only other outfit we see Parad in throughout the entire show, and it’s not even his. At least Graphite got that hoodie outfit when he faked having stolen the level three gashats.

Give Parad a wardrobe 2Kforever!

[kyoko0001]

私に薬の主人を呼んではいけない Chapter 01

SMUT ALERT!! 

Fai doesn't think the term 'drug lord' is an accurate description for his line of work. Of course, it's hard to explain exactly what it is you do when you find out that your Tinder crush is a officer at the Tokyo police department. Modern Day AU. KuroFai. Mentions of other CLAMP ships here and there. Full list of warnings at the beginning of each chapter.

Chapter 01 available here or click the read more link! 

Fai Fluorite was on his third large, triple chocolate caramel latte with 2 shots of expresso, and he wasn't even half way though his night yet. He had two more clubs to visit and a meeting with his Guatemalan importer to get though before he had to head to the Neko no me Café and start the ovens.

It took every ounce of his self-motivation to eat the grilled cheese his assistant, Syaoran, had so kindly acquired for him. It was easy to ignore the food while he balanced the books of Fenikkusu though. The once familiar task took frustratingly long…

Normally this particular establishment ran smoothly, but with Oruha out on maternity leave he had to spend a maddening amount of time keeping things moving. Don't get him wrong, he was happy for her—she had been trying for a child for so long after all—and he wanted her to have as much time off as she needed.

But—

He would be much happier with her back in her office where she belonged. There was just no substitute for someone who had been running this club for him for the last 8 years. She knew this place better then him naturally.

"Please eat a few more bites Fai-sama." Syaoran was frowning at him from the other side of the ornate cherry wood desk and the blond tugged his cheeks into a too cheery smile as he looked up from his work.

"I swear I'll finish it." His tone was purposefully cheerful, but he didn't quite manage to bring the smile to his eyes.

His assistant didn't look as though he was buying it today, and he wasn't sure if he currently had the energy to tug the muscles in his face any tighter.

Syaoran gave a defeated sigh—He could be such a smart kid sometimes.

Fai had every intention of sticking to his usual diet of pure sugar, caffeine and various other stimulants for the rest of the night. He would probably eat some blueberries at the café… Toyo had mentioned that the last shipment was deliciously ripe.

Keeping his body running when he couldn't sleep more than three or four hours a night was a delicate balancing act. Carbs and fat would make him sluggish and he couldn't afford that so early in the night. He had probably already hit his calorie goal anyways with the sugar packed lattes.

A greasy grilled cheese wasn't going to do him any good. Even if it was from the little dinner across the street and one of his favorite foods.

"Can you go run to the backroom and grab the inventory list for me?" Fai looked back down at the spreadsheet he was updating. Better to keep Syaoran busy then letting him fret over silly things like his lunch.

The teen nodded and pulled the door open just wide enough to slip through. After a year of working as the blonde's assistant he knew when to take a hint, and left quickly to give his boss some space.

The loud sound of the music rushed into the quite office like a tsunami despite his efforts, causing the blond to scowl. As soon as the door swung closed again the noise faded back down to a more tolerable level and Fai stood while grabbing the now cold sandwich off the plate. He had a hot minute before Syaoran would return—but better safe than sorry… Fai headed towards the employee restroom for some extra privacy.

Locking the door, he tore sizable chunks of the sandwich off and tossed them in the toilet. Flushing away the evidence, he sighed and washed the greasy residue off his fingers and dried his hands quickly.

Now to the next line of business.

If he was going to get though the rest of this night, he was going to need a pick me up.

It had been that kind of week unfortunately.

Or rather… That kind of month…

Year?

The blond wasn't entirely sure.

Fai pulled his cell phone out of the inner pocket of his dark blue Brioni suit jacket and set it on the sink. Digging a little deeper he found what he was looking for—a dime bag with just enough 'help' to get him though the rest of the night.

Lazily, he tapped some of the powder onto the shining porcelain of the sink. With practiced grace he shaped two identical lines with his visa. The only cash he carried was for the soul purpose snorting his snow, and he made quick work of twirling up his lucky ¥10,000 note.

Two deep breaths later and Fai was tilting his head back and closed his eyes while he sucked in a few deep breaths. What little discomfort he felt was quickly forgotten and the blonde used a damp paper towel to wipe down the side of the sink and slid the baggie back into his inner breast pocket.

He would need to do a lot more to get any sort of rush—but those lines would serve to make him feel a little more human.

He had been doing this on and off for years—and though he was sure his body would thank him for a brake form the illicit substances—he couldn't deal with it now. There were too many things that needed his attention. This shit was way better then caffeine that was for sure.

Once he was feeling a little more like himself, he leaned against the porcelain counter top and unlocked his phone.

The second line of break business was making sure there was nothing urgent that needed his attention. His people had his cell and knew that he was available at all hours should they need him.

No urgent texts, so there was nothing that needed his immediate attention. One of his bouncers had needed a few stiches after breaking up a bar brawl and Fai set a reminder to take care of the doctor bills and send him a card.

Emails for this week's accounting were coming in and he would add them to the books while he waited for Yuukito and Touya to show up for their opening shift this morning…

He added that to his calendar as well and sighed before hitting the home button. Between meeting with the troublesome supplier, one of his managers being out, and trying to get the months end accounting done he was going to lose his mind.

Absentmindedly he opened Tinder and started looking though the messages he had been ignoring for the last few hours. Maybe a good lay would help relax him enough to actually be able to sleep tonight…

Fai didn't have high standards and he had probably slept with half the men in Tokyo by now. Well… Half the gay ones at least. The blonde didn't care what line of work they were in—what they were majoring in—if they were vegan—liked beer or whatever else hipsters drank these days—what exotic vacations they took.

He just wanted them tall, with a strong shoulders, a killer body, and big cock. He didn't do clingy, long term, or batshit ether.

Fai already had money, nice cars, and a big house. He didn't need someone to take care of him—just get him off. As long as their kinks weren't anything too crazy, Fai was usually down to party.

It was nearing 10. Not too late to arrange something if he moved his schedule around. The blond scrolled though his open chats with a frown…

To clingy—To skinny—to short—to nosey…

Honestly with over nine million people in Tokyo the options were pretty shitty.

Back to the drawing board…

Backing out he started to sift through pictures of singles.

He never bothered to read anyone's profile and he sent the same messages to all of his matches.

Currently out on the town.

Would love to meet for a drink if you're not busy?

He made sure to include a few kissy faces and heart eye emojis and switched back to his email. It was Friday night so chances were good someone might take him up on his offer. If he didn't get a response soon, he was going to have to keep an eye out in the next club for a tipsy Mr. Tall dark and handsome that wasn't too far gone to keep his cock up.

He preferred his partners to be sober. They were usually better at actually getting the job done when they weren't too drunk to see strait.

Fai sighed rather loudly as the first responses started trickling in and read though them with disinterest. A few busy—a few too-forward responses including images of rather unimpressive genitalia—and hello!

My shift ends in two hours.

Still going to be out?

What were his chances that the hot one worked late? Fai smirked and sent back a thumbs up.

Where we meeting?

The blonde checked his calendar. He would be at Kyuden.

This club was on the tamer side—it had only opened two years ago and had surprisingly attracted an older crowed. Business men and single 30 something's who had money frequented the joint.

To cater to the more mature taste they usually had live local bands, or comedians preforming. It suited a more distinguished crowed better than thumping music and flashing lights the university students enjoyed. Fai rather liked Kyuden for that reason. Yuto kept it well managed so he didn't have to visit often—but they were looking to remodel the VIP area and Fai needed to approve the budget.

More privet rooms were needed—and more discreet seating.

Fai not only made sure that they had the largest selection of top shelf liquor in all of Tokyo, but at this joint he also staffed an impressive array of ladies to cater to the single gentlemen's needs.

So—like most of his establishments—it was walking the line of not quite legal.

It was far from a gay bar—but it didn't chase that crowd off ether. The could fuck quick in dirty in one of the more privet booths—and Fai could see firsthand the issues with the current layout.

Kyuden?

He received a response almost immediately.

See you then.

Perfect.

Fai slipped his phone in his pocket and turned to look in the mirror. He splashed his face with cold water and toweled his hands dry before heading back out to the office. Syaoran—the sweet thing that he was—had returned with not only the ledgers but also what looked to be another coffee for him.

"Thanks, Syao." Fai winked at him and accepted the folder as well as the warm paper cup that smelled like heaven.

"No problem."

Hiring this kid was honestly one of the best decisions he had ever made. Syaoran had started out as one of Fai's 'boys.'

Syaoran was not cut out for moving goods though— but he had needed a job. Fai had taken pity on him and hired the kid as his assistant. It turned out that he was a hard worker and had good taste in coffee, so it worked out for both of them.

He always seemed to know when Fai needed a refill on his latte, a Redbull, or shot of tequila.

The blonde had been though a lot of assistants over the years—that particular skill was a rare talent that Fai greatly appreciated.

Poor thing had made the unfortunate mistake of getting his girlfriend pregnant when they were still in high school, and regrettably, he had been forced to drop out to support them. There little son Tsubasa was too cute and Fai had a soft spot for kids. Syaoran was an honorable little knuckle head—so Fai had also hired his honey to work at his café during the day as a server.

Sakura was ditzy and clumsy, but she made up for that with her kind heart.

The blond sat back down in front of his macbook to focus on what he was supposed to be doing in the first place. His little hit early was doing its job and he powered though the last of the book keeping faster than originally planned.

They had made a profit. He always did—but the numbers were still lower than they had been before Oruha had left a month ago. It wasn't as though the staff had forgotten how to do their jobs—they were simply slacking since there manager was not there to ride them on their duties.

It peeved him… But made him appreciate the hard work of his managers. He wouldn't be able to run his business if it wasn't for their hard work… He couldn't do this for each one of his 22 clubs. Even if he never slept, he wouldn't have enough time to oversee all of the little details.

The blonde made a note to give each one of the managers a bonus. Keeping them happy and right where they were was paramount to making sure no additional responsibilities feel onto his plate.

Fai felt his eyes getting heavy again, his concentration didn't last long. He managed to discreetly excuse himself to the bathroom again and took another bump before he and Syaoran headed out to meet the distributer.

His McLaren 570s was in the parking garage across the street in his reserved spot. Syaoran rode shot gun and Fai put the top down as they pulled out onto the busy street.

Tokyo always had traffic—and after navigating those packed streets for 18 years—he knew the quickest ways to get around town.

They were meeting at one of his warehouses in the industrial district. As soon as they exited downtown, the traffic thankfully died down enough to actually feel some wind in their hair as he cruised the artificially lit streets in a comfortable silence. He pulled up with time to spare and double parked in front of the building.

During the day this place served as a clothing Wearhouse. Fai owned the property and rented it out to some exporter who sold cheap clothing online to rich foreigners. They got the space for cheap and Fai used it after hours for his own needs.

It worked out perfectly as a place to transfer goods, and as far as his intel went, the police had no idea. He switched it up every few weeks whether they were suspicious or not though. He hadn't had a meeting in this particular building in a little over a year.

Two of his enforcers were already waiting for him. Syaoran followed close behind him as they got out of the car and slowly approached Kusanagi and Seshiro. Both were dressed in their usual uniform. Black skin-tight tee and black jeans that served to make their muscles look even more impressive.

Too bad both men were spoken for. Seshiro was currently engaged to one of Fai's managers and Kusanagi had himself a cute little wife at home.

"Evening Sir." The men said in unison and Fai grinned at them.

"Have our guests arrived?"

He didn't expect any trouble. Even outside of Japan the exporters he worked with knew what happened when you crossed him.

If they tried it? Well the night would be a little interesting then now wouldn't it?

"No sir. Fuuma is with them in rout. Traffic." Seshiro returned his smile before opening the door to the Wearhouse.

That was all good and well. Fai could live without being the one fashionably late this time.

The blonde entered with his assistant following close behind him. They made themselves comfortable in one of the offices and waited. Syaoran made some tea and Fai checked his phone.

Kanoe, the manager of Kurōbā had texted him to inform him that one of the bartenders had quite mid shift. They were handling it for now but were going to need to get a decent replacement asap to handle the 4th floor bar.

He had a few promising resumes waiting for a spot, so Fai sent back a text that she needed to set up a meeting with him to go over them to find a suitable replacement. He accepted the meeting request that came in moments later.

Tomorrow at 5pm was early for him… but if she was short staffed, he could do it. Okoku brought in a good amount of money for him and if they had to shut down an entire floor, his pocket book would notice.

Now that that was settled Fai moved on to the next line of business… He opened a text from his step dad praying that it wasn't bad news.

It wasn't that he didn't get along with Taishukuten—not now that he was an adult at least. They just didn't talk unless it was about Ashura. If his stepdad hadn't married Fai's adoptive father, and had simply remained his law partner? Fai would probably avoid him.

After stepping in as a step parent and being put though the ringer by both he and his twin from the time they were first going through the emotional, hormonal, train wreck that was middle school? The feeling of polite annoyance was mutual.

Needless to say—the only time he got a message from the man was when something was wrong.

A picture of his father and… a cat?

Awe.

They had gone out.

How sweet.

Fai sent back a few hearts. He couldn't tell where they were from the background, but he was glad that Taishakuten had gotten Ashura out of the house. Since the accident his adoptive father had a tendency to stay cooped up in doors more often than not.

Fai saved the photo to his phone and set it as his wall paper. There were too few happy moments in his life recently. He like to have reminders of why he did all of this garbage to begin with.

Tapping the home button, he smiled at the new photo one more time before checking his tinder messages. Nothing else from—oh what was his name?

Kurogane?

Well at least his name matched his serious profile picture.

Fai looked through the few photo's the man had attached to his profile and smirked. He hoped Kurogane was as handsome in person as he was in these pictures.

One of him wearing a traditional Hakama was particularly charming. He must be into some sort of martial art—which hopefully meant he was in wonderful shape.

Fai smirked thinking about taking body shots off a well-toned stomach… Maybe this Kuro would be up for some less traditional fun tonight. It might not be the best idea seeing as he would still have work to finish tonight… but it was tempting.

If they clicked Fai thought he might chance an evening off to have some much-needed naughty relaxation in an actual bed. Maybe a ritzy hotel with a jacuzzi and bottle service in the room?

He could tie Kuro-hottie to the headboard and lick whip cream off his most sensitive areas?

"Is something wrong Fai-sama?" Syaoran came back into the office carrying a small tray with two cups of steaming tea—green tea of course—and pulled him out of his fantasies.

"No. I decided to meet someone tonight at Kyuden for a drink." Fai turned the phone so that Syaoran could see the photo of Kuro in his sexy hakama. "Cute ne?"

"If you say so Fai-sama." Syaoran laughed awkwardly and the blonde found himself chuckling.

This poor kid knew way too much about his sex life… Fai was severely allergic to long term commitment but had an obnoxious need for human contact. This caused and interesting predicament that played out in a near constant steam of short flings and one-night stands.

In the last 10 years his longest relationship had lasted a whopping 4 months and ended with him leaving his date at fancy eatery in Paris when they had dropped the L-bomb.

"If you wanted to call it an early night, I wouldn't be mad. I'll have Kusanagi give you a ride home after we finish up here?" The blonde offered with an innocent smile.

As much as he loved having his assistant to vet his phone calls and get him lattes, he didn't need the poor thing waiting around while he got plowed in a semi-privet booth by his date.

He paid him handsomely—but not enough for that.

"Yeah. The baby has a cold and I know Sakura-chan is exhausted from staying up with him." Fai frowned at that. It was that time of year he supposed… But why hadn't Syaoran mentioned it earlier?

"Why don't you have Sakura take the day off tomorrow too? I'll toss her an extra vacation day, so you guys can all take a day to rest." Fai was always lenient when it came to things like this. Surely Syaoran knew all he needed to do was ask and his boss would send him home?

"Are you sure that's ok Fai-sama?" the brunet didn't like to accept charity—the fact that he didn't out right refuse showed just how stressful having sick baby really was. He couldn't relate—probably would never have children—but he had spent enough time around their little tot at the café to know he was a handful when he felt under the weather.

"Yes." Fai confirmed.

Before his assistant had a chance to say anything further Seshiro knocked on the door of the office. Fai sipped his tea as he entered into the cramped room and closed the door behind himself.

Looking out the large window that overlooked the main floor Fai could see that the new distributer was waiting very patiently for them. He had brought a man and a woman with him—it wasn't unusual—normally distributers were accompanied by bodyguards like Fai's enforcers—but not always.

It was ether a show of faith.

Or over confidence.

Only time would tell.

"Are you ready Sir?" Seshiro didn't seem overly concerned.

Must not have found anything alarming on them during the pat down.

Wordlessly Fai stood, and they made their way out of the office. Fai had pulled a serene, emotionless mask onto his face and walked with Syaoran and Seshiro behind him, head held high, eyes blasé.

This was a well-choreographed dance. He had a reputation to maintain after all. It had taken a few years to prefect this particular act, but it had served him well so far.

He wasn't Fai Fluorite—the friendly neighborhood drug ring leader. He was Fai Fluorite—the slightly off his rocker, smiley psychopath that wouldn't think twice about ordering a hit on you or your entire family if you crossed him.

Once he was just close enough to see the individual hairs on the man's head, he offered a pleasant smile. "Its nice to meet you in person Mr. Reed."

Fei Wang Reed did not seem pleased to see Fai. This meeting was to set boundaries after all—and no one liked to be scolded.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Fluorite." Fai could tell that he was forcing a calm tone as he spoke—he could see the anger in his eyes.

Good.

He may have just climbed to the top of the food chain in South America—but he was in Fai's house now.

His guests had to play by the rules.

His rules.

Tokyo was a big market after all. Sure—finding a new supplier for coke would be annoying. The stuff he had gotten from Fei Wang Reed's predecessor had been top grade, and Fai's boys had been able to cut and move the stuff faster than he could import it.

This last shipment? Low quality and full of cheap and slightly hazardous additives.

Since Cocaine was the drug of choice of his most wealthy clientele—he was not happy.

He was a drug lord sure—but he wasn't going to lower his standards and start selling low quality, possibly harmful shit to his customers just because he had gotten ripped off. He had built his business on his integrity after all.

"I'm trust you received my return shipment?" Fai made sure that his face was a perfect expression of disinterest. His tone apathetic.

Fai had sent the cheap shit back, along with an invitation to discuss their future business relationship.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding." Reed offered. He didn't shift under Fai's gaze.

He was a ballsy one alright.

Ballsy enough to send a response stating that they had tried to provide him with a service by sending him 'precut' product so that he would be able to get it to his customers sooner.

Right.

"And I trust that you have ensured this shipment is what were accustomed to receiving form your office?" If it wasn't, Fai was going to have to teach him a lesson… He would very much prefer that Fei Wang Reed followed his warnings.

"See for yourself." Reed tilted his head to Kusanagi who held out a small sample baggy to Fai.

He had been doing this a long time—and had picked up a few tricks over the years. The first rule of dealing with someone like Fei Wang Reed was assuming they were trying to off you.

It was pretty much the ultimate goal in the business he was in. Currently Fai was the ring leader of the drug trade in the Tokyo metropolitan aria—taking him out would be a big step up for someone like Reed. The respect he would earn from accomplishing such a task would be more them enough to ensure at least a few years of control.

"Syaoran. Please bring that table over here." The blonde motioned to one of the folding tables that was set up against the far wall. Reeds eyes narrowed—no doubt offended—but the blonde didn't care.

His assistant complied quickly. Fai dumped half the powder on to the table and used his Palladium Visa to slide it into one long line. Fai fished out his lucky ¥10,000 note and made quick work of rolling it up and handing it to Fei Wang Reed.

"Cheers!" Fai chimed.

Reed was glaring daggers at him as he accepted the note. Fai didn't buy for one second that this man didn't sample his own products—so he was ether seriously offended—or about to snort his own poison.

He bent, and Fai watched him finish the line in one go before straitening and tipping his head back—snuffing his nose loudly.

So that was a no on the poison then…

Fai pinched the edges of the dime bag between his index finger and thumb forcing the plastic to pucker open. It smelled fine… looked good… apparently not laced with poison…

Fei Wang Reed had apparently come here in the hopes of saving a client. For now, at least.

"Much better than the last shipment." Fai offered, but Reed continued scowling at him.

He would buy enough from the man to smooth his ego over the next year no doubt. Business was business after all. Nothing soothed a bruised ego like regular orders totaling over 50 thousand dollars.

"I am glad that it is up to your standards." Fei Wang Reed managed to keep his tone even, but the blonde could tell that he was seething.

"Yes. Sorry to drag you all the way out to Tokyo for this meeting. I'm sure you understand the importance that were on the same page however." Fai turned and started to walk towards the entrance of the warehouse. "Fuuma will take you to your hotel room. We should grab dinner before you head home."

Reed didn't answer, and Fai didn't look back to see his look of annoyance as he strolled casually out of the building. Seshiro and Fuuma would be keeping a close eye on him for the remainder of his stay.

Kusanagi and Syaoran followed after him. As soon as the door closed Fai heard his assistant let out the breath he had been holding. Even after 6 months he still wasn't used to the tense situations that came with negotiating price and purity.

Poor kid.

Kusanagi had joined him after he had left the military and was not so easily shaken. He placed a reassuring hand on the teens shoulder as soon as they were out of the building. "Once Fai gets outta here I'll take ya home. Give your nerves a brake."

Fai smiled kindly at both of them and checked the time. "Have a good night you two. I'll see you both soon ok?"

"You heading straight to Kyuden then?" Syaoran grabbed his bag out of the passenger seat of his boss's car. He dug out a small can that he offered to the blond.

Just what he needed—more caffeine.

Fai accepted the red bull. He opened the can and sipped it before answering. "Then to Akai Shiro and finally Neko no me Café."

"Please make sure to go home and rest Fai-sama." Syaoran's face was worried as Fai finished off the last of the energy drink and crumpled the can in between his hands before tossing it in a nearby garbage bin.

"I will."

He wouldn't.

Fai wasn't jittery—he existed in a state of perpetual exhaustion these days. His insomnia didn't seem to think he needed any sleep between working 18-20 hours at a time though. He would probably just go home and toss and turn between short naps.

He refused to admit that his poor diet, lack of exercise, coke habit, and the excessive amounts of caffeine he consumed on a regular basis had anything to do with it.

Hopefully Kuro-handsome would tire him out though.

Fai got into his car and backed out of the parking lot slowly. It was almost midnight and the lateness of the hour did nothing to unclog the constantly overcrowded streets.

The drive was tedious, but Fai didn't mind. He did his best thinking when he was stuck in traffic anyways. He ended up putting the top back up on the Mclaren and blasting the music.

There was a lot for him to think about. The café was doing well for only being open for a year—and a food critic was going to by tomorrow to write an article about them. He had to do the prep work for Toya so he could really wow him or her.

The good press might bring in enough new clients to fund the opening of a second café… Yuuko, his personal attorney and impromptu life coach, had warned him to keep the funds for the Neko no me Café completely separate from the rest of his affairs, as it was the only joint that had nothing shady going on.

He was building his safety net should things go south with his more lucrative clubs.

In reality he was hoping that he could eventually manage his expenses with the café's profits alone and sell off the riskier side of his business to be done with the madness of it all. The novelty had worn off years ago and he was getting to old to deal with the constant power struggles, and import/distribution issues anymore.

It was affecting his mental health drastically.

His family was starting to notice… Ask questions… it was all becoming so terribly complicated.

When he had first dropped out of college to deal, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would probably end up this way. Even the best of them did. It was a hard field to be in… But he couldn't help hoping that maybe there could be more to his life then working 100-hour weeks.

Fai sighed loudly as he pulled in front of Kyuden and tossed the key fob at the bouncer. There was no line outside the door like most of the clubs he owned—Kyuden was slower. There VIP tables were booked up most nights though and even with less foot traffic, Yuto pulled in a nice profit for him.

They sold more skin then booze here.

The blonde pushed the heavy wooden door open and smiled kindly at the hostess who greeted him. She knew who he was. They all did.

"I have someone important meeting me here for a drink soon. His name is Kurogane. I'll be at my usual table." Fai flashed her the profile picture and she gave him a knowing smile and nodded—making a note of his name on her list.

With that taken care of Fai headed in through to the main bar and headed straight up the stairs to the balconied VIP section. Yuto had been behind the bar mixing drinks for an older couple but nodded his acknowledgement before continuing what he was doing.

The most privet booth had been reserved for him when he had announced that he would be stopping by to talk budgets tonight. It worked well for a privet conversation about finances, as well as some hot and haughty alone time with his date.

Hopefully he wasn't shy.

Fai took out his phone and sent a quick message to Kuro-muscles.

I got us a booth.

Let the hostess know you're here to meet me.

she will bring you back.

While he waited Fai ordered a black coffee and stood to refamiliarize himself with the layout of the upper level of the club. There wasn't much unused space to work with… but they could probably move some things around to suit the guests needs better.

As it was—most of the tables had a wonderful view of the stage down below—but no view of the other patrons. That seating was rather limited however… only so much room.

The blond rubbed his temples and checked his phone again.

Be there in 5.

Fai finished of his coffee and double checked his appearance in front facing camera of his phone. The waitress swung by and collected the empty mug and left two drink menus in its place—and he was left watching the entrance of the club impatiently.

True to his word. Kuro-sexy arrived in five-ish minutes.

Dear god was he tall.

Kurogane towered over the hostess who had been just a few inches shorten then himself in her heels. He looked uninterested as she flashed him a flirtatious smile and Fai was left smirking as he followed her though the main bar and up the stairs.

He made himself look busy by checking his phone as they made the rest of the trip to the far end of the VIP section. He could hear his heavy footfalls as they approached but didn't look up from what he was doing just yet.

He didn't want to look thirsty—even if he was.

Kuro-hunk didn't need to know how desperate he was. It would probably be a huge turn off.

"Here you are sir. The waitress will be by shortly to take your order." As they were trained to do, the hostess bowed deeply and Kurogane thanked her before sliding into the circular booth next to the blond, Leaving a respectful amount of space between them.

She left them be, and only then did Fai look up from his phone to flash his most dazzling smile. "Thanks for agreeing to meet me on such short notice."

"Yeah." Kurogane was looking him over carefully and Fai just continued to smile. He knew he was exotic looking compared to your average person here. He had been born overseas after all.

Maybe Kuro-broad had a fetish for blondes?

"Something wrong?" He kept his voice purposefully sweet and tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Not really. You normally dress like that?" The raven-haired man's voice was deep. Wonderfully deep.

Fai glanced down at his outfit. Yes—yes, he did. He was almost always dressed in a three-piece suit.

"Work cloths." He confirmed and Kurogane nodded. Still watching him with piecing crimson eyes.

Fai hadn't noticed his eyes in his profile picture, but they were stunning.

There was another long silence between them and Fai was starting to wonder if something was amiss? Something in his teeth?

He was hot, but for Christ sake. You would think he had sprouted a second head with the way Kurogane was scrutinizing him.

"I don't mean to be rude—" the tanned man finally spoke. "—and don't get me wrong I think you're… You're fucking beautiful. But why the fuck are you, of all people on a hookup app?"

Oh?

Fai smiled. That was not the first time he had been asked this on a date before. Especially if they saw him pull up in one of his expensive cars—or when he ordered the most expensive menu items.

He made a point not to allude to being well off financially before he met someone the first time. It attracted the wrong crowd.

"Trying to find out what's wrong with me?" the blond gave a mischievous smirk, his nose wrinkling with amusement at the younger man's words.

"Tch. Pretty fucking much." Kurogane finally glanced over the menu and Fai shook his head slowly.

Such a potty mouth.

"I'm an emotional wreck who works 80+ hour weeks and I'm in desperate need of a good orgasm for my sanity." Fai deadpanned, and those crimson eyes locked with his own.

He saw the younger man's ears tinge red at his directness.

Ugh. How freaking cute.

"What about you Kuro-handsome… Why is someone so—" Fai gestured vaguely in the man's general direction and smirked. "—surely you must have gentlemen such as myself—well you know." The blond winked, and the blush spread to the taller man's cheeks.

Oh god. Why was he so cute?

"Same, minus the emotional wreck part. I moved here and I'm working late shifts so it's hard to meet people… And my name is Kurogane." Kuro-proper set the menu aside and the waitress took that as her que to interrupt them for their order.

"Let Yuto know I'll have his recommended scotch. Neat please—" Fai looked at his companion and cooed. "And this handsome gentleman here will have—?"

The red spread further on his cheeks still and he swore he saw Kurogane's eyebrow twitch. "Masumi sake."

The woman nodded politely—used to Fai's flirtatious behavior with his 'guests.' She retreated to retrieve their drinks leaving him to continue to smile at the seemingly grumpy man if front of him.

"So, you just moved to Tokyo?" Fai said to break the silence.

Normally there was a hand down his pants by now and a few hikies on his neck. It seemed as though his companion was ether shy, or unhappy about something.

That was ok—he knew he had a tendency to intimidate people—younger men especially. They could chitchat till Kuro-cutie was comfortable.

"I moved here about a month ago from a smaller town just outside of Tokyo." Kurogane seemed to settle from his earlier embarrassment. He was still handsome even when he wasn't trying to hide his awkwardness, so Fai wouldn't complain.

"I see. And how do you like it so far?" Fai had met more than a few new arrivals to Tokyo since had started whoring his way through Tinder almost two years ago. A few university students—some art enthusiasts—young business man—they all had their reasons.

"I hate it. The rents expensive and there are way too many people. Its dirty and its always loud." Fai blinked a few times.

He wasn't wrong.

The blonde chuckled at that answer though. Kurogane really was no nonsense and Fai liked it.

"So, what brought you to Tokyo then if you dislike it so much?" The blonde had lived here his entire life, so he was used to the hustle and bustle of big city life—he knew it was off putting to some.

"Work. I'm hoping I don't have to stay for long." Well that was that Fai supposed—Tokyo wasn't for everyone—and it meant that Kuro-cranky wasn't looking for love.

Excellent.

"You have an accent. Were you born here?" Kurogane asked when Fai didn't immediately respond to his earlier statement. He was staring at his body again—the blonde's suit was well tailored but in the darkness of the room it would be hard to tell what he had going on under the layers of fabric.

"No. I was born overseas. My father adopted me when I was little. This has been my home for the last 29 years."

A lot had happened in 29 years…

"Shit. How old are you?"

Fai was sure that out of the sparse information that he had included on his profile he had at least provided the fact that he was into boys and his age… that's all the information there was about him…

"I'm 33."

"Damn. I thought that was a typo. You sure as hell don't look 33." It was Fai's turn to laugh uncomfortably.

He was fine with an age gap for something like this. They were both consenting adults—and seemingly attracted to each other. Anyway, he actually preferred his partners younger then himself. He would rather play the roll of sugar daddy vs. sugar baby with the people he dated.

No matter how casual the relationship, or who toped whom.

"I'll take that as a compliment I suppose."

Kurogane's checks flushed again and he scrubbed at his face roughly with both of his hands.

"—I didn't mean— you're fine. I didn't mean to make you think there was anything wrong with that. It ah—just surprised me is all." Those crimson eyes fell to stare at his tanned hands and Fai tried not to grin too widely.

Kuro-shy was adorable. He shouldn't tease him too badly else he may scare him off.

"You've never done anything like this before have you?" the blonde chanced reaching his hand out to place it over the younger mans in an attempt to comfort him.

He didn't flinch at the platonic touch. That was good right?

"This is the first time I've actually met someone off tinder in person." Kurogane admitted.

No wonder he was so nervous.

"Well there is a first time for everything. We aren't going to do anything you don't 100% agree to. We can just have a drink and talk if you want?" Fai really wanted to get his clothes off and ride his dick until he saw stars. But only if Kurogane wanted to pound him till he couldn't walk right.

Fai had enough people trying to get in his pants without having to pressure his date into sex.

"Its not… Fuck. It's not like that ok?" the raven-haired man seemed to get even more flustered and Fai's amusement tuned to confusion.

What the hell was it then?

Tonight was not supposed to be this complicated.

"I'm not some sniffling virgin-" Kurogane locked eyes with Fai and glared hard. "You're just… not what I'm used to. That's not a bad thing I just don't… want to do the wrong thing."

"Oh." Fai said.

Not what he was expecting? What was he expecting then?

"Are you pleasantly surprised or moderately disappointed Kuro-muscle?" Fai offered in a teasing tone as the waitress brought there drinks back to them. Fai thanked her for the both of them and took a nice log sip of his scotch.

"Both. You're hot as fuck but annoying as hell. And my name is Kurogane." His companion sipped his sake and watched Fai with sharp eyes.

"Whaa? Kuro-meanie thinks I'm annoying? I was only concerned for your feelings…" he said a little too loudly in a whining pout.

"Are you some kind of idiot or something? Ku-ro-ga-ne." those red eyes were glaring sharper still and Fai chuckled. They were almost sharp enough to cut paper.

It shouldn't be so much fun to get a rise out of him.

"Kuro-tan?"

"Kuro-gane. It's not that hard." His eyebrow was twitching now, and Fai had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his grin.

"Kuro-pii?" the blond said innocently and sipped his drink again.

"Jesus Christ…" the younger man rubbed at his temple. "Say it with me. Kuro—"

"Kuro—" Fai chimed happily.

"—Gane." He repeated the second half of his name slowly. "Kuro—gane." Spoken with extra emphasis on the 'gane' part.

"Kuro-myuu?" Fai offered. He swore he could see a bit of his dates soul die as those words left his lips.

"Fuck me…." Kurogane was looking at him in disbelief. The blond wasn't sure if he actually thought him incapable of speaking his name properly, or if he knew the older man was pushing his buttons on purpose.

The fact that it was hard to tell was gloriously amusing.

Had no one ever teased this poor guy in his life? Fai was having far too much fun doing it now.

"Gladly." He made sure to keep his expression as neutral as possible while the younger man's face flushed beat red.

"Shut up!" Kuro-bashful huffed and looked away and Fai raised a single, impeccably manicured eyebrow at him. "You're a fucking weirdo you know that! That's what's wrong with you!"

Fai simply sipped his scotch and swished the earthy liquid around in his mouth, before swallowing it.

There was way more wrong with him then they had time to discuss—so he settled for continuing to tease his new friend mercilessly.

"I think I know what you meant by me not being what you expected."

Those red eyes flashed back to look over at him again and the blond gave a devilish smirk.

He thought about what he was going to say next carefully. He wanted to see those tanned cheeks blush dark enough that Kurogane looked like a delectably embarrassed tomato.

"You saw my picture and imagined a shy little blonde foreigner clinging onto you and blushing like a meek little bottom didn't know?" Fai always attracted that type.

He could play innocent if he was feeling it—but he had done things that would make your mother roll in her grave.

Kurogane seemed suddenly petrified by Fai's words as he continued to speak in a singsong tone. "Then you met me and realized I'm older then you and more experienced. I'm definitely not meek—I am not the one who has been blushing tonight—and you start to wonder how things would work out if we had sex right?"

Kurogane remained silent and Fai leaned in close enough to whisper hotly in his ear. "You're totally freaked out that your aroused right now—even though it might mean taking it up the ass from a pretty blond foreigner. Right Kuro-honey?"

"Shut—Shut up." Kuro-manly pushed Fai roughly away and the blond burst into a fit of giggles.

It was so much fun teasing Kurogane that it should be illegal…

"I don't see what's so fucking funny here blondie." The look of pure shame induced hatred was just too much and Fai covered his mouth with one of his hands in an attempt to get himself under control.

"I'm right aren't I?"

"I swear to god blondie if you don't shut the fuck up right now, I'm going to make you regret it."

Fai took another sip of his liquor. The distinct harsh taste helped distract him as he tried to think of what could put his potential lover at ease. When the last of the giggles had wiggled free of his throat, he slid closer to Kuro-baby again, so that their thighs were touching.

"I'm flattered that you think I'm so attractive you would let me fuck you Kuro-sexy." Fai drew out his words seductively and nipped at his junior's neck playfully. "But I have never had any desire to top anyone—definitely not someone as—" Fai sucked slowly on his neck this time. "—impressively tall and broad as yourself."

Kurogane shivered. Fai didn't know if was from sheer arousal or relief at knowing he wouldn't being trying anything too different tonight. Both were likely seeing the massive hard on bulging rather obviously in the man's jeans.

"I could perhaps be convinced to bend you the table and make you my bitch—But only if you beg me of course." Fai added as he looked up at Kurogane though heavy lashes.

"You're a fucking bastard you know what?" Fai yelped as he felt a muscular arm slide around his waist and pulled him close so that he was pressed firmly against Kurogane's hot body.

God he was big.

"You're not the first to tell me. It's not a secret." Fai sighed as his date ran a hand all the way up his side—applying just enough pressure to tickle through the layers of fabric—right to his neck, callused fingers brushing the sensitive skin in a surprisingly gentle manner.

Kurogane used his free hand to sip his sake and Fai was suddenly aware of just how horny he really was from just those chaste touches.

He hoped he didn't embarrass himself…

The waitress returned with a tray carrying another neat scotch and Masumi sake. She set both of them on the table—along with a suspicious number of napkins—and pulled the curtain that covered the entrance of the booth closed.

Kurogane looked confused and Fai used the opportunity to crawl into his lap—swinging his leg into position so that he and his date were nose to nose.

Fai didn't want to explain to him why there were privacy curtains on the booths—or that the waitress had closed the curtain because there flirting was probably catching other patron's attention. That would just ruin the mood.

Instead he closed the distance between their lips and kissed him sweetly. Fai would let Kurogane take the lead for how he wanted this to go. If that would make his lover more comfortable, Fai would roll with it. he relaxed into the taller man's chest and simply enjoyed as his senses as took his partner in.

Kuro-koi was warm. His skin felt hot against Fai's chilly fingers as he trailed them up and down his strong arms. He smelled clean—like aftershave and fresh laundry—and his lips were flavored with the sake he had been sipping.

All in all, he was intoxicating.

Kurogane seemed to get the picture and brought one hand up to tangle in the blonde's soft hair and used the other to lift his ass and scooch their bodies even closer, so that the smaller of the two had to crane his neck to keep their lips connected in the heated smooch.

Fai couldn't help the soft sighs he was making as Kuro-chi massaged his scalp and ran his fingers though his short locks while they kissed. The younger seemed to notice his fondness for that particular action and so continued to so even after their kiss broke.

The hand that had previously been on his ass started to loosen Fai's tie and the smaller man was biting his bottom lip while he watched Kurogane pull the decorative fabric fee and let it hang around his shoulders loosely. Next was the vest—but this required two hands—and Fai gave a disappointed whine as the he worked the layers of his clothing free.

Fai shivered from a combination of cool air of the room touching his previously covered skin, and his lover's hot hands ghosting over the sensitive flesh as he slowly worked the buttons of his dress shirt free.

His gaze had stayed transfixed on Kurogane's hands while they finished their task. The blonde considered what those hands would look like rubbing up and down his chest, and over the sensitive skin if his thighs.

An involuntary soft moan escaped his lips and he closed his eyes to picture it further as the younger continued to carefully undo each and every button with care. Fai didn't know it was because his hands were so big that he had a hard time with the little buttons—or if he was savoring the moment.

He didn't care ether way. He was enjoying himself.

Eventually the last button came free and Fai heard Kurogane growl as all three layers of his clothing were push off his small frame at once. Suit coat, vest, and dress shirt sliding to the floor underneath the table, forgotten.

"Shit." Kurogane leaned back and looked down at him. Fai was panting as he was observed though half lidded, hungry crimson eyes.

"Shit." he repeated as those hot hands were hesitantly placed on either side of the blonde's torso—just above the hem of his pants—and Kurogane bit his lip as he slowly ran them up and his naked skin, leaving goose flesh in his wake.

"Thank you?" Fai smiled at him and Kuro-swear at least had the decency to look slightly embarrassed at his language.

"Beautiful." He corrected, and it was Fai's turn to flush.

He had been called beautiful before—usually by woman with perhaps a handful of men offering those words to him—but never in the middle of sex with a Greek god of a man looking at his body like he was thanksgiving dinner.

Fai shuttered and closed his eyes. His entire body was feeling hot—he wasn't used to his skin being this sensitive but the raven haired man's feather light touches were driving him crazy.

He couldn't remember the last time he had had sex this good—and they hadn't even gotten to the actual fucking part yet.

This was not his usual quick and dirty hook up he got off tinder, and he didn't know if that was a good thing or not. Normal there was a few minutes of sloppy kissing before Fai got pushed against a wall, or bent over a table, and fucked hard and fast. Occasionally it ended with him getting sucked off if he needed a little extra help to finish…

No one had ever freaking worshiped his body with hungry eyes like Kurogane was currently doing. He had bent forward and was currently swirling his tongue around one of Fai's nipples while his finger gently massaged the other, alternating between rubbing the areola and pinching the tender skin between his thumb and index finger.

Applying just enough pressure to make Fai squirm his hips in the younger man's lap. He was acutely aware that this was not the most privet of setting and the blond mentally kicked himself for not finding them a better place to continue.

Fai wanted his lover very naked right now. Naked and on top of him—inside of him.

He didn't want to focus all of his attention on being quite—he wanted to scream in pleasure and curse his lover for making him feel so undone.

Not in the middle of his club though—definitely not in front of his employees. To ensure he didn't draw too much attention to himself, Fai was coving his mouth with one of his hands—his other fisting into Kuro-tease's tee-shirt.

All of these sensations were too much but in a wonderfully, overwhelmingly, delicious way that made him want to crawl out of his own skin.

Kind of like when you went to chiropractor—and their adjustments just hurt so fucking right.

Fai tugged particularly hard at Kurogane's tee and the younger stopped his intoxicating little nips and kisses to look at Fai.

"Do you uh… really wanna…?" Kurogane ground his erection against Fai's ass as if to finish the unspoken question and Fai whimpered and nodded his head quickly.

He was sure he was going to die after all of that teasing. He needed release.

"You wanna do it… here? I don't have any lube or a condo—" Fai silenced him with a sloppy kiss.

"Fuck the lube just use spit." Fai ground their hips together and Kurogane growled at the contact.

"And the condom?"

Fai would defiantly prefer it if they didn't use one—but now was not the time to push that issue. While he only ever used protection when his partner requested, he always came prepared.

"Wallet." His words came out in a breathy sigh while he shifted to regain the black leather Dunhill wallet. He retrieved the shiny metal wrapper and handed it to Kurogane before tossing his wallet back on the table.

To his surprise—the taller man set it aside and those hot hands run up his sides again and pulled Fai forward and the taller man kissed his way down the blonde's neck. Every move he made was smooth, paced, thoroughly deliberate, and it was intoxicating.

Kurogane ran those hot hands back down his sides, dragging his nails lightly across the smooth pail skin, then up his back. Massaging small circles in the tight muscles as he went. Fai was left again gripping uselessly onto his cloths and shifting his hips back and forth to create an enticing friction.

Eventually with enough quite whines Kurogane kissed his lips a little more roughly and reached for the blonde's belt. The buckle came loose with a little work and Fai shifted onto his knees so that he was eye level with his lover.

Their position was unfortunately awkward considering their tight quarters and the inconvenience of clothing. Fai didn't want to get completely naked in public like this… that wasn't a good call.

Again, he mentally kicked himself for not planning this better.

Kuro-crafty seemed to be content to make it work and Fai didn't question him when he was presented with three very large fingers. The blonde gave his best sultry look as sucked them with a little more force then needed.

Kurogane watched him with famished eyes—Fai hoped that he was thinking about what it would be like to have him sucking someplace a little more pleasant. His mind wondered back to his earlier musings about whip cream and a little rope and he moaned a little too loudly.

It was a much more—vivid—picture from the taller man's lap.

There was no need for fantasies when he had the real thing in front of him right now though.

Once he had meticulously coated Kurogane's fingers with saliva he closed his eyes and tried to relax as he felt that same hand slide down the back of his slacks. Kurogane probed at his entrance while nipping and kissing his way down Fai's neck and the overwhelming sensation of the hot breath puffing against his skin, and the gentle pressure of those slick fingers made him squirm.

The feeling of wanting to crawl out of his skin was back and his own breath of coming out in airy gasps before there had even been any penetration at all. At this rate he was going to cum—and that was embarrassing.

He wasn't used to someone being able to make his body react this way.

The first finger entered his body smoothly and Fai leaned forward to burry his face in the crook of Kurogane's neck to muffle his moan when he crooked it just right. The blonde swore he could hear a satisfied smirk in the younger man's next low growl.

Fai could only assume what he looked like right now. On his knees hovering above Kurogane's lap—ass out—leaning forward with arms wrapped around strong shoulders.

Sure, he could ruin the picture that his lover seemed so pleased with if he wanted to. That didn't sound like very much fun—so Fai let Kurogane continue to lead their little dance for now and closed his eyes to enjoy the feeling of strong fingers slowly stretching him.

A second finger was added and the taller mans free hand moved to tug down the front of Fai's boxers to free his arousal. His entire body shivered as Kurogane touched his cock just like he had been touching the rest of him.

Who would have thought him such a fucking tease?

Fai loved it.

A little more pressure was applied as Kurogane was smoothly running a closed fist up and down his length while the third finger was added. Fai had taken to kissing and sucking at Kuro-koi's thick neck and bit him rather roughly as he hit that bundle of nerves that threatened to put Fai over the edge.

"I take it—" Kurogane brushed it again while swiping his thumb over the head of the blonde's cock. "—that's the spot?"

"If you keep that up, I'm going to—"

"Do it." Kurogane massaged his prostate with a little more pressure and quickened the pace of his other hand and Fai unwrapped his arms and leaned his weight back so that he could kiss his lover.

"What about?" his eyes flickered down to the painfully obvious hard on in the younger man's jeans.

"Don't worry about that right now. I want to see you cum." Kurogane's voice came out in a low growl that caused Fai to shudder again.

"And is Kuro-sama usually such a gracious lover or do you just like to watch?" Fai leaned back into the raven haired man's touches, encouraging him to increase the pressure a smidge more.

He didn't answer—but Fai could assume from the way those eyes were watched the smaller man's hips moving provocatively—that he may have found a cute kink.

He could defiantly get into this.

Fai sucking in a deep breath though his nose and held it for a moment, in an attempt to get better control of the tingling in his cock. Not yet—this was too good to end yet.

The blonde made a show of using a single finger to tilt Kurogane's chin up, forcing their eyes to meet, before using the other hand to drag up his own torso. As he had expected—those crimson eyes locked in on what he was doing to himself.

Fai left a frustrated pout on his face while he closed his eyes and tiled his head back. With his own hand he traced up his sensitive side, traced over his protruding collar bones, ran them over his own erect nipples.

It felt nice—almost as nice as when Kurogane had done it for him earlier.

It must have looked nice too because he felt the younger man shift below him and sigh. The grip on the blonde's dick was firmer, and he was jerking him off faster now—matching the way he was moving his fingers.

Fai was bracing himself against the tanned man with a hand on his very warm, very broad chest. Said hand fisted in to the fabric, nails digging into his skin as Fai was hit with a sudden waive of pleasure that he wasn't expecting.

He came hard, back arching in an impressive show of flexibility as he covered his breathy gasps with his hand. Streams of sticky, hot cum shot out of him as he felt his member jolt.

Kurogane didn't seem to mind the mess that had spattered his clothing and continued to move his hands as his lover orgasmed.

When the last of pleasurable spasms washed over Fai's body the raven-haired man withdrew his fingers and reached for the napkins the waitress had so kindly provided them and started to wipe away the mess.

The blonde tugged his slacks up a little higher, so he wasn't as exposed, and shifted to sit next to him. Fai sipped his scotch and tried to think just how he was going to pay this little scamp back for that.

He hadn't expected this to take as long as it was—but this wasn't an unpleasant surprise by any means.

Slowly he leaned down to grab his clothing that was currently rumpled by Kurogane's feet and tossed them to the other side of the booth before sliding down to take their place.

"Hey, you don't have to—" Kurogane gave him a surprised look.

"I want to." Fai cut him off and placed his delicate hands on the man's belt buckle—pausing for permission.

Kurogane gave a nod and watched with wrapped interest as Fai turned his attention to the pesky cloths that was hiding his prize. He had popped more than a few belts in his day—and Fai was marveling and the younger man's impressive manhood within seconds.

The blonde licked at the impressive amount of precum that had collected at the head of his dates cock and concluded that Kuro-myuu had been enjoying himself with his earlier teasing. It was the blondes turn to make his partner squirm now though—and given their sizable age difference—he had a lot more experience doing just that.

Swirling his tongue around the head he slid both of his hands up under the hem of the dark shirt that was marring his perfect view of Kuro-love's no doubt impressive stomach.

And what a sight it was.

He was definitely going to need a night to admire this body in all its glory.

Fai took more of his lover into his mouth and sucked hard. Smirking around his cock, the blonde's blue eyes flickered up to see Kurogane's face, and he was not disappointed. Those red eyes were still watching him—only instead of being heavy with hunger—they were half lidded with need.

Good.

Fai closed his eyes and relaxed his throat and impressed himself by taking the entirety of his date manhood. Humming softly, he opened his eyes again and felt Kuro-wan twitch when their gaze met again.

Fai felt heat rushing back down between his own legs and he reached a hand down to slide inside of his own boxers.

Leaning his head back the blond applied just enough pressure with his lips to get his first moan. Kurogane raised a hand to tangle into his short locks and watched as Fai swished his tongue over the tip.

"Kuro-chan tastes good." He purred and felt the fingers in his hair tighten uncomfortably.

"It's Kurogane damm—Fuck…" Fai cut him off by sucking hard on the head of his penis and giving him an innocent look before closing his eyes and bobbing his head up and down.

It continued on like that. The older man earned quite a few moans and curses from the younger any time he would glace up or make a show of what he was doing. Fai could feel Kurogane getting close a few times—his cock was twitching with need—and he made sure to switch things up enough to keep this little game going for as long as he could.

He had been in the middle of deep throating his lover when he felt a tug at his hair. His eyes flickered up to see the taller man motion for him to come up with his free hand.

Slightly disappointed at not getting to show off the rest of his oral skills with the big finally, he climbed up from under the table.

He was letting Kuro-handsome be the boss. He had to remember.

Fai settled in the booth next to the raven-haired man and relished in the feeling off Kurogane's hands on his cool cheeks as he kissed him roughly.

"Not that that wasn't fucking amazing…" he let his words trail off and he kissed Fai more insistently. "I just really wanted to fuck you."

"By all means Kuro-chan." Fai cooed.

That had been the ultimate go of all of this hadn't it?

The blonde could tell that his date was much more excited now then he had been at the beginning of their little necking session. His hands moved with fervor as he tugged him into position and Fai found himself on his knees—hands gripping the top of the high back booth while his partner wracked hands over his body and kissed his neck.

He had already cum once tonight, but he was more than ready for round two.

He could here Kurogane opening the condom and adjusted his own clothing so that his lover would have better access to where he needed to be.

Fai held his breath as Kurogane slowly entered him—one of those hot hands on his left hip—the other on his right shoulder.

The blonde winced a little—Kurogane was definitely well endowed and prelubricated condom or no—it would unquestionably be more comfortable if they had come a little better equipped.

His discomfort was quickly forgotten when Kurogane reached around and grabbed his throbbing cock, however. After a few seconds of adjustment time—he set a brutally brilliant rhythm for them that had Fai breathless.

Was it possible to be addicted to a sensation? Because Fai was sure no other feeling in the world was quite like the feeling of Kurogane fucking him in this booth.

They were both exceedingly careful to stay quite—for Fai that meant again covering his mouth with one hand while he tried to hang onto the back of the booth with the other. Between his own muffles sighs and whimpers he could here Kurogane legitimately growling as he thrusted into him and it was honestly the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him.

Fai came shockingly fast and was sure his eyes were rolling into the back of his head from the hot waves of pleaser that were slamming into him with every thrust. Kurgoane followed not long after and the blonde found himself grinning as he came with a stream of curse words whispered under his breath.

Oh yes… this had been just what Fai needed.

Kurogane pulled out carefully and handed Fai a few of the napkins before cleaning himself up. Fai hadn't expected to be pulled back into his dates lap after they had finished—and he especially didn't expect to get a soft kiss on the neck and his drink handed to him.

"You're awfully sweet Kuro-puu." Normally Fai wouldn't tolerate such affections after a hookup—but he was starting to get tired and Kurogane was really very comfortable.

Besides they still had drinks to finish.

"Not really. What do you expect me to do? Zip my jeans and ditch after I just fucked you?" Kurogane sipped his sake and Fai rolled his eyes.

Yes. That is usually how these things went.

"That's normally close to how it goes. If I didn't know any better, I would think you had a crush on me." Fai leaned his head on his dates strong shoulders and yawned.

He was going to need to find somewhere privet to refresh soon.

"Fuck that. You're hot but I can tell your fucking insane."

Fai snorted. Good observation kid.

"You're not wrong there Kuro-woof." Fai tipped his head back and finished off the rest of his drink. He could vaguely here his stepfather scolding him in the back of his mind for not savoring the flavor of such an expensive scotch – but Fai only drank the stuff because he liked how it smelled. Besides the sooner they finished there drinks the sooner he could go top up.

"It's Kurogane you freak." The taller man fallowed suit and knocked back the rest of his drink. "Hey, you know where the bathroom is here? I gotta clean up a bit."

The blonde's eyes flickered to his soiled clothing and frowned. Yeah—that would be for the best.

"Sure. Just a sec ok?" Fai grabbed his own clothing and quickly buttoned up his dress shirt, tucking it in and fixing his belt in an attempt to look a little less sex rumpled. He didn't think he was pulling it off, and draped his vest, tie, and jacket over his arm and stood.

Kurogane watched him lazily and followed him out of the booth. Fai was reminded of his date's glorious height and smirked as he led them though the winding booths, back down the stairs, and past the door that very clearly read 'employees only.'

"Hey, is it ok if were back here?" Kurogane looked around curiously as Fai led him past the store room, back past the brake room, and into the employee bathroom.

"I work here silly." Fai winked at him, holding the door open for the younger man.

"You seriously screwed someone at your job? Your boss is cool with that?" Kurogane entered the room and looked at himself in the mirror. The dried cum on his shirt and pants stood out against his black clothing.

Whoops.

Fai didn't answer as he followed him in and started to fix his own clothing. The lighting was dim enough in the club that no one would notice. The light provided from the street lamps weren't much better, so it wasn't the end of the world.

"What are you doing after this?" Kurogane asked as he used a damp paper towel to try and get some of the evidence washed away.

"Going back to work." Fai made quick work of redressing. This wasn't the first time he had had to salvage a wrinkled outfit—wouldn't be the last.

"Fuck. Good luck with that." Kurogane gave up and tossed the paper towel in the trash and turned to lean against the sink and watch him.

"I take it your nightly excursions are over Kuro-tan?" Fai tightened his tie and pulled out his cell phone.

Ugh. He was starting to regret sending Syaoran home…

"Yeah."

The blonde ignored the text messages and emails that had flooded in since his arrival at Kyuden and went to his contacts. Opening up a blank card he handed his phone to his date and smiled.

"If you don't mind Kuro-cutie." Kurogane took his phone and gingerly entered his name and number into his phone and handed it back. "Thank you sir."

The blond stepped close to the taller man and pressed his back against Kurogane's chest. Lifting his phone up above both of there heads he gave a dazzling smile and cooed. "Say Cheeses Kuro-scowl!"

Of course—Kurogane didn't comply and instead of a selfie with two gentlemen smiling happily in a post sex glow—they ended up with one man smiling in a post sex glow, and one glaring so hard one would expect the camera to shatter.

And wasn't that perfect?

"Whaa! Look how cute we are?" Fai teased as he set the photo as Kurogane's contact picture. He also sent it to the younger man, so he would have the blonde's number.

"You are such a fucking weirdo." Kurogane growled at him but checked his phone as soon as the message came though non the less.

"Yes—but I am a hot weirdo." The blonde reminded before turning to lead them both back out to the main room of the club.

Fai tossed his cc on the bar as they passed Yuto and walked Kurogane back out to the street. "I ordered you an Uber."

"you didn't need to do that or pay for the drink you know?" the raven-haired man sighed and glared daggers at him.

"What's the point of seeing and older man if they don't pick up the tab?" The blonde teased and Kurogane gave him a slightly scandalized look.

"Hey! That's not what this was about!" Fai laughed. Kurogane was practically stomping his feet in frustration.

Luckily for the younger man, the cab pulled up and Fai graciously opened the back door for him.

Once the cab had pulled away Fai went back inside—he just had to get though the rest of the night… He could do this.

[freakypanther]

Normal is dead but I am not.

Picture this. It’s a Monday night in the liminal space between normalcy and aftermath. It shouldn’t matter what day it is but somehow you just know that it is in fact— Monday. Years of life in the agrarian calendar die hard, and now your body can sense the beginning of a work week despite the lack of actual work, or restaurants, or movie theaters, or anything normal. You climb a rust-colored fire escape (that would certainly not pass a New York City fire inspection) to the top of your friend David’s tar-slicked roof. By normal neighborhood standards you are absolutely being too loud— but most people welcome the racket these days, if only for the comfort and thrill of white noise that doesn’t come from a television. The air begins to chill as the sun bleeds out of frame and succumbs to the ink-soaked sky that is south Brooklyn from below. You shiver from lack of layering, but push through the numbness for a few laughs and puffs of a joint with another human. You’re in the liminal space between winter and spring— the transitional weeks that no one quite knows how to prepare or dress for. A hoodie is too hot by noon, but a tee shirt is too cold by 6. 

Ambulance sirens drone in sonic slow motion in the background and feel almost angelic— like renaissance church bells, but sped up a few hundred years. Like a seraphim singing in autotune— electric, eerie, lemon-scented and sad. You twirl your hot pink hair and wonder if there are always this many sirens in a day, or if you just notice them now that there’s something significant about them...

The winterness of the springtime starts to get the better of you and your nose begins to run, so you rub away your goosebumps and noodle your way backward down a metal ladder with the grace of a gangly grandpa on a tightrope. You mount your trusty bike in the queer silence and pop your earbuds in to drown out the other worldly oddness of the evening. You wonder what your ex boyfriend is doing but become distracted by the unmistakable THC tingle in the soft tissues and sponge cartilage of your face. “This must be what a soul feels like on it’s own” you think, as you motorcycle-kick your bike pedal into the remarkably empty street. And in the silence, you nearly hear an engine turn over on your Bianchi as the wheels begin to pick up momentum. Uphill, counter-interia, almost achey. Careening toward the inevitable glide with every single pedal. 

You feel energy begin to fill your body in a way that lifts your breast bone, expands your lungs, elevates both eyebrows, and turns the corners of your lips upward involuntary as a random but strangely appropriate song comes on your playlist. 

The wind picks up and so do you, the early April air blasts against your wide open eyeballs like a hair dryer on two peeled grapes. And then your wide open grapes start to pool speed-tears at the corners like a downhill skier. You make your way to Washington street, past the projects, then the townhouses, the poor people, and the working people, and the neon-lit bodegas— that are occasionally still open. You stop at a red light and watch a woman swap a cigarette with a homeless man for cash and wonder how bad either of them needed it. The landscape levels, stills, and jumps tax brackets and the architecture starts to look like home again. 

Now you’re riding so fast you think you must look like one long hot pink blur- a viscous gradient, smeared to the wind from Flatbush to Bergen- living in liquid, both somewhere, nowhere, everywhere at once. Both at home- and still on that roof with David and that lit joint. And you feel it true— that you are both here and there. That you are both then and now. You are the past and present and the same time. You are everything and nothing, living entirely within context, and entirely without it.  You are nobody and everybody at the same time. You are everything.

I am the homeless man and I am the Crown Heights library, and I am the teacup blossoms and the Hasidic family on 4th ave, and I am the night and the hairdryer and the skinless grapes that’s it’s blasting as I speed-bike down the hill. I am China and the town of Wuhan, the bat that started the virus, and the Chinese doctor that warned the world about it. I am the virus, and I am the daytime— I’m Jay with the big dick that curves perfectly upward, and his dead dad, and the tractor trailer that killed him when he was only sixteen. “Oh yeah” I think as lick my lips for moisture- I am also my mouth. 

I am the crimson red lipstick that bleeds across the edges of my smile, and I am also the calcium hinge that drops it wide like elastic clown pants to make noise. And I am the sound it makes when it laughs out loud, and also when it cries out in anguish. And when you feel that you are all of those things at once and can no longer contain them to a single body—you scream. You scream right into the empty night, right at the sky and right at the city. You scream at yourself and also at everyone you have ever known. Not from the belly, but deeper. From the cunt to the crown of your head and out the spout of the space right above you. You rage volume at the sleeping goliath for everything it ought to be and isn’t. For everything you wish you were but aren’t, For all the things that should be able to happen but for whatever reason don’t. You scream for everything and everyone that needs but lacks. For the mother wondering where her next meal is coming from. For the man who sleeps on the steps of the bar two blocks from your house. For the babies in cages at the border. For the fear in the hearts of little black boys who walk to the store for a Gatorade, just hoping not to get shot. For the fear in the hearts of the cops that will murder them, and the apathy of everythign surrounding it. You scream for all those things and think that maybe nobody hears it, except maybe the people in the million fucking dollar townhouses on the tree-lined streets of Dutch-architecture Brooklyn. Hiding quietly in their mid century modern bed frames from all the chaos, from all the death, from all the pain, from all the truth. Numbly nodding off through the queer silence, wondering if there are more blood curdling screams on the street than usual- or do we just notice them now that they seem significant? Then you dismount your little blue Bianchi, throw it over your shoulder, and open the strange little side door to your apartment like a choreographed dance, one you have danced so many times before. You drunkenly climb the creaky old stairs of your hundred year old Brooklyn building, collapse on your 3 year old leather couch, and wonder if this tiny apocalypse will ever mean anything to anybody but you. So you just write it all fucking down- and suspect it might be useful to somebody at some point later. Maybe when this shit is all over.

[keyofjetwolf]

Jet Wolf Summarizes Act 47

The manga and I kind of hate each other. This is unfortunate, but still, I’m determined to come out of this with something. Rather than spend energy on a liveblog that’s increasingly negative, I’m reading each manga act (mostly) silently, and then writing up summaries at the end. I won’t pull my punches. There’s going to be criticism and snark about the manga, either wholesale or in details. If that isn’t a thing you feel like reading, please skip this post!

Nearly fifty of these, I’ve done now. I must be approaching the end, and for that, I am truly grateful. Still, you’d think with all that experience behind me, I’d simply be inured to the manga by now. And yet. AND FUCKING YET.

We pick back up with Usagi and Mamoru plummeting out of the sky after having been all shot and stuff. When Usagi’s face starts melting, Minako has a true honest to god freakout

Which I’d almost have a feeling about if it seemed like Usagi gave even a fraction of the same level of fucks, but since Minako isn’t Mamoru, that isn’t allowed.

But what about them being shot at the end of last issue, you ask? EXCELLENT QUESTION TO WHICH I HOPE YOU DIDN’T WANT AN ANSWER. It doesn’t come up again, and it’s only in this second read-through that I think it was supposed to have been an nightmare illusion? Which was intended to ensnare everyone forever I think, BUT EVERY SINGLE FUCKING SENSHI THEN HAD THE EXACT SAME GODDAMN NIGHTMARE

SEVEN INDIVIDUAL PEOPLE AND AMONG ALL OF THEM THERE IS NOT ONE THING ANY OF THEM FEAR MORE THAN WATCHING USAGI AND MAMORU DIE PLEASE PUNCH ME REPEATEDLY IN THE FACE UNTIL I EMBRACE SWEET OBLIVION

Cut to the cats, hanging out in Crown. Nobody cares about the cats, moving on.

TO MAMORU SMACKNG THE SHIT OUT OF MINAKO AND REI AND SOMEHOW NOT GETTING A FLAMING CHAIN THROUGH THE TORSO

Yes, gentle reader, it is Mamoru alone with the intestinal fortitude to break these mental shackles! This despite being routinely brainwashed by a box of Honey Smacks! And what is his go-to for saving all the others but to slap the shit out of them and save them from their own overblown ineffectual hysterics!

GIRL POWER

Mamoru then reminds everyone that they should be strong like him and help him protect the world, just in case you hadn’t QUITE lost every lunch you’d ever eaten in your lifetime. Inspired, Usagi remembers she’s the titular character, which in turn inspires the others.

By which I mean probably just Haruka, who takes the time to make sure we all know Usagi is the super specialist special person who gives her life meaning.

And gwooo was also there.

Not Michiru. Just gwooo.

Haruka’s feelings are so intense, she extends her secret telescopic arm to the horror of all and leads the Senshi in a bitchslap attack on Zirconia. Maybe it works? Maybe it doesn’t? I just watched Haruka develop an entire extra arm joint for no reason, I refuse to waste one more second of my life on this shit than is necessary. 

In the end, Usagi (just Usagi) winds up running through a mirror and confronts Nehellenia kind of. Hotaru and Chibs are there, I think, but they’re unconscious. No, they’re awake, No, they’re unconscious again. Things glowed! And shattered! And then shattered more! But not really! Maybe!

Meanwhile outside the mirror, Minako’s back to losing her shit again, and nobody is doing anything because they fucking can’t BREATHE unless Usagi’s within an eight foot radius I guess. I’m taking so much more appreciation for the girls in 124 right now, and if you think I’m not seriously considering marathoning the entire fucking anime once I’m done with the manga, you gravely underestimate me. (Group event? I’M LIKE 98% SERIOUS RIGHT NOW IF YOU’D LIKE TO POP IN AND OUT AT YOUR LEISURE OVER THE COURSE OF LIKE A WEEK WHILE I JUST FUCKING GLUT AND LIVESTREAM THE ENTIRE GODDAMN ANIME AS A SPECIAL POST-MANGA HEALING REWARD FOR MYSELF DON’T BE SHY.)

Anyway, all this sucks, except for this one amazing moment that I will clutch tight to my chest. Rei attacks the mirror with Flame Sniper! Minako uses Love and Beauty Shock! Ami tries Aqua Mirage! And Mako?

JUST UP AND FUCKING PUNCHES THE THING

AND IT WORKS

Even the manga can’t deny that Mako is all that is good in the world.

Maybe that kills her? Or not? Things shatter again and glow some more and then Usagi, Hotaru, and Chibs pop out of the mirror. Only everything else is still in darkness and ruin, leaving Usagi and Mamoru to simultaneously (OF FUCKING COURSE) conclude that Elysion is where all this shit is really going down. “We’re coming too!” the Senshi say, because if Usagi is out of regulation tetherball distance, they’ll just stand there and stare at each other blankly forever, and better death, honestly.

USAGI SAID FOR ABSOLUTELY NO RATIONAL OR LOGICAL REASON WHATSOFUCKING EVER

But then Chibs is all “But my horse boyfriend!” and Usagi’s like, “Mm, I see your point, okay,” and despite my best efforts, I find I am in fact still existing on this plane and reading the manga.

They all go then, because life is like Skyrim and once you know a place exists, you can just fast travel there whenever you want. It looks like Pegasus is dead! WE CAN ONLY FUCKING HOPE. Nehellenia’s not, though, because apparently there are still a few more chapters we can excruciatingly drag out of all this.

Maybe *I* was shot in the beginning and this is my nightmare. Come on, face, melt! Melt, god damn you!

[myladyladybug]

Unreceived - Chapter 7

Rating: K+

Words: 1376

Summary: Adrien experiences familial love for the first time since his mother left and he has no idea what he’s doing anymore (not that he ever did).

FF AO3 hogeky buy me a coffee?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Author’s Note: This is a fic based off of a comic written and drawn by @hogeky. Please go there to view images and support her comic!

Permission was received to write this fic.

Marinette woke groggily, her neck and back aching as she opened her sleep filled eyes. Joints popped and muscles stretched. It wasn’t the first time she had fallen asleep on the couch in her room, but she would have thought she’d learned not to by this point. It always resulted in sore everything for at least two days.  

Today’s awakening differed ever so slightly, in partial to the warmth she experienced on the left side of her body. Curious, her eyes shifted over to see the blond head of hair that sat messily atop a sleeping face. In a manner most painful, Marinette’s eyes widened and she woke in mind as well as body. The panic sent a shot of adrenaline into her it took too much of that energy not to cry out with an inappropriately loud voice.

“Wha-?!” she gagged. Immediately, her hands went to cover her mouth, reacting faster than her consciousness.

It wasn’t a dream.

Hands still untrusting of her voice, Marinette leapt from his side, fearful of waking him with her shock. Evidence of her body next to his took form of an indent in the couch, and a ghostly shape where the blanket had rested on her shoulders. There was obviously a person missing from the view, and she wondered how long Adrien would be able to stand it before waking. She checked up on his hesitantly, not wanting to be caught staring, but for a moment, it was all she could do to tear her eyes away from his sleeping visage.

We fell asleep.

Her eyes lingered, observing his calm expression, and allowing the situation to wash over her.

He looks so peaceful.

A part of her realized that he must have been waking up, because a smile quirked onto his cheeks. This part of her was likely not a conscious part of her, since Marinette continued to stare at him until his eyes slowly opened, and she was found standing from a distance, displaying an intense amount of prolonged eye contact.

Adrien opened his mouth in an attempt to dissolve the tension, but never got the chance to make a fool of himself, as Sabine called from the lower level of the house in a volume that only a mother could achieve.

“Kids! Come down and eat breakfast, or you’ll be late for school!”

For a moment, neither of them responded, allowing their hearts to catch up with the shock of the situation. Before they could think to make another move, Sabine’s voice rang out once more.

“Oh, and Adrien! Eat quickly and get dressed. Nathalie will be picking you up!”

In no time at all, Marinette and Adrien cleaned themselves up and were sat at the breakfast table with lovely displays before them. And yet, regardless of the bountiful amount of food, neither found it in themselves to touch any of it once the realization had settled in that Adrien was having breakfast at the Dupain-Cheng home.

Nobody made eye contact; Marinette focused on a spot on the floor beside her, Adrien stared intently at his food, and M. Dupain-Cheng was absorbed with the morning paper. The silence was nerve wracking, and Adrien gripped at his seat with the desire and fear of breaking it. Even though he wanted to say something, he found himself unable. He had been brought up so long not to speak unless spoken to, particularly in cases of being in the presence of strangers, and particularly in the presence of adults. Not only that, but he had also been an imposition to Marinette and her parents, and regardless of their kindness and seemingly willing hospitality, it still made him anxious at the thought that he had burdened anyone at all.

Tom caught sight of the boy who appeared to be sweating himself into a fit. He could practically see the thin string of his sanity about to snap. The side of his mouth twitched into a smile as he amused himself with the idea that this boy felt uncomfortable in his home. He had no reason for this discomfort (or rather, at least no reason Tom could fathom) and thus was creating panic for the sake of panic.

The large man reached a hand out to place on Adrien’s shoulder, causing the blond to jolt at his touch.

“Don’t worry about a thing, son,” M. Dupain-Cheng chuckled, “Any friend of Marinette’s is like family to us.” The strain in Adrien’s shoulders and face visibly relaxed, and in his eyes were a look of awe, confusion, and longing.

“Of course, you’re always welcome,” Madame Dupain-Cheng cheered, appearing behind them with a smile on her face. “Come visit us anytime you want!” Adrien’s lips thinned. A part of him couldn’t fully understand the scope of their kindness, and he truly didn’t know how to respond to it. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Even if he decided that he did know what he wanted to do at the end of it all, he wasn’t sure if his father would ever approve of his choices. Their kindness would all have been for naught, regardless of his decisions, and he hated that.

His father. He had almost forgotten.

“Uhm, excuse Madame Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien asked tentatively. “May I ask how you convinced my father to let m stay the night?” The smile on Sabine’s face remained unfaltering, which only gave it a more worrying impression to everyone at the table.

“We just had a little talk,” she said, her reply curt, but her voice infallibly sweet. The colour drained from his face, partially in fear of what Madame Dupain-Cheng had said, partially in fear of how his father had handled it, and partially in fear of Madame Dupain-Cheng in general.

“Maman! What did you do?!” Marinette cried. Still her mother’s smile remained.

“Don’t worry dear. We just talked like grown ups!” Sabine repeated, walking back behind the kitchen counter. Tom leaned closer to the two at the table.

“If your mother goes ‘grown up’ mode, you can expect trouble,” he jested in a mock whisper.

“Dad!!” Marinette shrieked. The level of embarrassment in the room had risen to an all time high and she was not having the best of times, especially when Adrien looked as shell-shocked as he did.

“So honey, are you going to the game tonight?” Sabine interjected, her tone terribly cheerful.

“Of course! It’s the finals!” Tom replied.

“You’re changing the subject,” complained their daughter. Lightheartedly, their conversation continued as if she hadn’t spoken. Both were enjoying this tremendously.

“I got good seats too!”

“Oh!” Madame Dupain-Cheng exclaimed, bringing out a tray from the oven. “Kids, take these macarons to school. We made them fresh this morning. Hope you like them!” Marinette got up to help her mother in packing the pastries away and Tom remarked on the smell of the room. Adrien remained seated and gathered himself.

There was something about where he sat that made him want to cry. His seat alone was not particularly uncomfortable, nor was he in any physical pain. But still, the pit of his stomach felt hollow and a lump formed in his throat. Marinette was commenting on the macarons, but he couldn’t really hear her anymore. Above the hollow feeling, was an ache that pounded strongly in his chest. There was warmth, a warmth that filled him indefinitely and melted his entire body until every muscle relaxed into nothingness. And yet there was also pain, a pain that yearned for… this; everything that this was. A pain that yearned for the jolly man that welcomed him into their home with such ease. A pain that yearned for the gentle woman who defended him and cared for him. A pain that yearned for a girl who cried for him when he felt that he could not cry for himself.

Adrien looked over at the three having a conversation beside him. Despite his lack of reciprocation, they never spoke as if he were not in the room. In fact, currently, Marinette’s parents were teasing her about the fact that a boy had snuck into her room at night and whether or not they should be worried. He smiled.

So this is what a real family looks like.

Author’s Note: Hello friends! I have reached a point in life where job stress (or lack thereof) has taken over, so writing is going to be very slow. In fact, shit hit the fan mid chapter, but I still need to write to get some piece of mind so, don’t worry about that. No big deal! Sorry for delay and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Also, I totally realize I called Sabine “Mrs. Dupain-Cheng” earlier, but I’m changing it now to Madame, only because French.

[lyraeon]

Hi! Sorry for intruding, and you definitely don't have to answer if this too personnal or invasive, but I've been wondering if my depression might be a bipolar one for a while now, only I don't always see myself in the way people talk about mania/hypomania, only sometimes I do? And the way you described mania being /straightforwardly frustrating/ sort of spoke to me, so I was wondering if you could explain what you meant by that? (or direct me to posts where you have?) Huge thanks!

Hello friend!

I’m sure I have other posts about it somewhere, but short of digging through my whole relevant tag, I wouldn’t know where to look for them. But I don’t mind explaining overall.

First of all, if your depression seems to come and go, but not necessarily be replaced by hypomania or mania, it may be something else. Seasonal Affective Disorder is the most common alternative, but Cyclothymia is also a thing, and should especially be looked up if your depression also never hits a bottomless pit level. Don’t fall into the trap of thinking “well, it’s not THAT bad, so I guess I’m ONLY cyclothymic and I shouldn’t worry about it” or whatever though!! That’s just the depression talking and trying to keep you down. Ignore it.

I don’t know if I get manic or hypomanic, doctors have consistently disagreed about it. But, I know I have two main modes of mania, though they can bleed into each other.

There winds up being talk about hallucinations, self-harm, and graphic nightmares in this, so if that’s gonna bug anyone reading this, J on past it

Hyperactive mania:

What is sleep? This is not me procrastinating sleep or being distracted by other things, this is me flat out not needing more than 3-4 hours of sleep a night and having trouble getting to sleep to begin with, not in an insomnia “I’m so tired but can’t settle down” way but in a “I don’t feel tired unless I drink or take sleeping pills or otherwise really wear myself out” way.

Zero focus - I have little to no attention span most of the time to begin with (I suspect I have ADHD but most doctors will be reluctant to diagnose that in addition to bipolar, since mania has a lot of overlap). This typically gets worse during mania; I will repeatedly get up out of my chair to walk laps around my house, often gesturing wildly and definitely talking out loud to myself if no one’s home. I’ll sometimes try to play music to get the energy out to that, but rarely get through a single verse before skipping to the next.

Hyperfocus - and when I do manage to focus on something, (which has to either be something I’m REALLY ENJOYING or something social) I will get dragged into it for 14 hours and only snap out of it if I need a bathroom break or something. The Sims is a common one, not just for me but for a lot of people from what I hear. I always know something was a hyperfocus and not a thing I really wanted to do in general because after 3 days - 2 weeks of the thing I won’t touch it again for months or years. My last manic fit involved playing a sim city phone game for 6-7 hours a day and binge watching multiple people’s entire hermitcraft 4 season. The one before that had me playing rollercoaster tycoon constantly.

sex drive - suddenly characters and celebrities I had not previously regarded as hot are hot. Suddenly I have 15 AO3 tabs open. I feel like people who know me well can notice my mania just by how often and what gets reblogged to my NSFW blog.

poor decision making - I’m far more likely to buy ice cream or alcohol or other things I don’t need to be spending my money on. I’m far more likely to give in to the whole not sleeping thing, or to take sleeping meds despite cutting it way too close to when I have to be up the next day. I lose my verbal filter. I still don’t know if the fact I don’t do anything life-ruiningly stupid is evidence I’m only hypomanic, not manic, or just my anxiety keeping me in check.

Intense emotions - I cried at a University of Phoenix ad yesterday y’all. I also in general am not one to cheer or yell at something happening on TV/in a video, but get more invested when manic and react on a level closer to when I’m actively playing a game or something.

But there’s also the frustrating side (not that the above isn’t often frustrating, just that the above are more associated with positive emotions or at least not a pervasive Stressed Out feeling)

Easily frustrated - I am not one to get mad, normally. I actually get criticized for just letting things slide that obviously upset me/”you keep saying it’s okay right after saying it’s not okay”. I don’t know how to handle getting mad due to gaslighting issues growing up that I won’t get into right now so when I do start getting mad, it tends to build up until I find myself tense and literally stomping mad and sitting in the car screaming in frustration (because if I scream in the house someone might hear me). I also snap at people far, far more often when manic, losing any patience I would typically have and sometimes going for passive aggressive gouges if what they’re annoying me with has built up over a couple days as opposed to instantly. For example, yelling at people who are in my raid group.

nightmares - dear god the nightmares. I will do things in them that I find barely or completely unquestionable in them, then wake up freaked the fuck out because I just - well, we’ll go with today’s example, which is that I fuckin shot my dog in my dream, and for no apparent reason! Death is a pervasive thing in these, including me getting jolted awake by my own death in them, but unstoppable torrents of water are also common as is things just not making any sense - an object I’m holding turning into something else the moment I try to give it to someone else is also something that happens a lot

tense - dear god do my shoulders and back hurt, and not my normal everyday chronic arthritis pain, because that’s in the joints. This is every muscle pulled as tight as it will go and locked, and often carries a sensation of “the only way to fix this is to literally claw them off the bones”. Upper back is the most common but my forearms come next (especially near my elbows) and every major muscle can feel that way if I’m far enough gone. This used to lead to self-harm in the form of me scraping at those areas trying to make the sensation stop (and has lead to weird masochism stuff), but it’s something I consciously avoid now. I’ll usually try to rub at them or stretch to relieve the tightness, but often sleeping it off is my only real recourse.

really, really, REALLY unable to focus - I can’t get through two minutes of a video without pausing it. I skip every song 4 seconds in and instead of just feeling like they don’t fit quite right, each song feels like it’s personally offending me by not being the right one and I eventually give up and take off my headphones in a huff. I’ll forget I was loading the dishwasher halfway through. I’ll keep doing one more little task and one more little task for hours to procrastinate simple things like eating or walking the dog. I always in general have trouble finishing my sentences sometimes, because I’ll lose words or I’ll wind up reading/hearing something mid-sentence, but it becomes every third sentence.

Itchy - everything feels wrong. My hair has to be pinned up as thoroughly as possible so it can’t touch my skin, my glasses have to be perfectly clean because the smudges will piss me off, my clothes have to be just right so they don’t touch my skin in ways that will make me jump/itch like if my hair touches me, any rough edge of my nails or cuticles has to immediately be chewed off, if there’s a weird hair or a zit or a scab anywhere on me I will be picking at it instantly, whatever I’m sitting or laying on is too lumpy, etc. My scalp itches regardless of when I last washed my hair, but washing my hair sounds dreadful because the sensation of wet hair weighing me down is even worse (vs it normally being a soothing sensation to me). My ears itch!! it’s maddening and distracting.

noise and light sensetivity - everything is too bright and too loud! I’ll have as many lights off as possible (sitting in the dark, showering in the dark, screens all as dim as they will go; I’ll often close my eyes or blindfold myself if I really need to concentrate on something I’m typing or listening to). I try to get white noise because background sounds like the dog walking around will drive me batty, but white noise will give the same “wrong one” sensation as music, and if I notice ANY repetition in the white noise (obvious bird loops for example) unless I have deliberately chosen a repetitive melody because it feels right, I will snap and have to turn it off and probably just cover my ears for a while. 

The sensation that shit would suck less if I was drunk right now, because that would either “at least give me something to do” or “make all of this funny instead of annoying” (but alcohol only intensifies what I’m feeling, so if I’m “good” manic it makes me super happy and if I’m frustrated manic I just get angrier)

just an overall sense that everything is wrong and there’s nothing I can do about it and unlike when I’m depressed, wherein I feel like it’s all my fault and I probably deserve to die because of it, it all just pisses me off more and makes me need to get up and wander around. in the less extreme of these moments, I end up trying to figure out lists of what needs to be done, but getting frustrated trying to think that hard. In the worse ones, things will be blown out of scale and I’ll be plagued not just by the problems in my own life but by how fucking frustrating it is not to be able to fix, oh, our broken government, or how frustrating it is that I don’t have the money to just buy us a house right this second, etc.

hallucinations - this is top floor mania for me. The only thing above it is the roof that I will sometimes lay on at 2 in the morning, limbs spread as wide as possible for minimal skin contact, laughing uncontrollably on the inside while feeling paralyzed. My hallucinations are “mild” ones - I’ve only had one or two visual flashes in my life, everything else has been sounds, and it’s rarely been even words, let alone more. it’s usually alarms and sometimes music. I’ll hear my boyfriend’s alarm going off, or the fire alarm going off, or my own alarm going off, or my family’s burglar alarm going off, etc. This is one that meds have been royally good at keeping under control and I’ve only had breakthroughs of it when I’m also sleep deprived.

-basically, mania is fUCKING FRUSTRATING AS ALL GET OUT because you have all this energy but nothing FEELS RIGHT so nothing gets DONE, 99.94% of the time.

The additional problem for me with breakthrough mania - that is, symptoms that happen despite my medication keeping me mostly “normal” -  is that it rarely brings any of the positive aspects that make being manic at least fun in the moment, if not sometimes genuinely worth it. I can get a LOT done when manic if I can take advantage of it before the bad symptoms set in, and I suspect a lot of my current writer’s block issues are because I’m not getting the same kind of hyperfocus days that I used to. But boy do I still itch sometimes, boy are my shoulders craving for me to go rub on a tree like a bear, boy is my stomach cranky because I’m so hungry but eating food sounds like a horrifying chore because what if it doesn’t taste right, etc.

I don’t really know how to explain exactly what I mean by the emotions feeling stunted, but it’s sort of like trying your hardest to find the can opener because you know it’s got to be somewhere, but it’s not anywhere you’re looking, except the can opener is your ability to be excited about this thing you wanted to do, or is your ability to be mad about something you know for a fact you’re pissed about, but you get stuck sitting there just dully frustrated instead because you can only read the label of the can, not actually experience the contents? Or maybe like opening it and finding store brand, “no sugar added” peaches instead of the really good del monte overly sweet stuff; your emotions themselves just feel lackluster compared to what you know they can be.

If a lot of this sounds familiar - if you’re like, yeah I get really annoyed easily and get sensory issues etc but I thought I didn’t get mania because I’ve never been pulled over in vegas going 110 in a 45 and all the media presents of mania is that and crazy chicks putting themselves $12,000 in debt overnight and waking up with no recollection of it - then you probably have hypomanic bipolar. If little bits sound familiar but they always are accompanied by existential dread and/or the pervasive sense you’ve gotta keep moving Or Else, it could be some sort of anxiety disorder. Parts of this list also overlap with autism, or with ADHD, or with BPD, just depending on which symptoms you have.

By my understanding, the one cornerstone of any form of mania is that you feel like you have more energy than normal; not more energy than depressed you, but an actual excess. That energy can fade fast/turn out to be just a sensation and not actual energy, but the sensation is still there, and usually fucks with your sleep.

Hopefully that helped. If it didn’t, or if it did but there’s something else you want to know, feel free to shoot me another anon or a message. I might be slow to respond because my sleep schedule is currently fucked to three more hells than normal, but I will definitely do what I can to help.

[kootenaygoon]

So,

They called it the suicide blanket—the ominous, low-hanging fog that settled over Kootenay Lake and plunged Nelson into a perpetual grey gloom. 

Paisley and I huddled under porch blankets as the trees frosted at the summit of Elephant Mountain, the white descending slowly on to the city. Winter is coming. From the comfy warmth of our little hermitage I watched YouTube theory videos about Game of Thrones and scribbled on my chalkboard wall, creating character lists and fine-tuning a timeline for my ever-evolving thesis manuscript. I wanted it to be composed of multiple interlinking stories, like my favourite novel A Visit from the Goon Squad, but I was constantly swapping out one story for another, never reaching any conclusion. 

While Paisley worked on her desserts I huddled down at my laptop and hammered away at my real work. Journalism was still only a secondary concern in my head, a means to make money until I sold this manuscript and vaulted up into the world of novelists. I sent out excerpts to literary journals, receiving a flurry of rejection letters in response, and tried to ignore the fact that I hadn’t made any legit progress on my fiction since arriving in Nelson. I felt this insistent fear that I wasn’t good enough, that I wasn’t going to live up to my ambitions, while meanwhile Paisley would remind me that we had a pretty nice life and maybe I needed to chill out a bit, okay?

“I don’t think I can go into work today,” I said one morning. “I feel like somebody’s sitting on my chest. I can’t do this.”

“So take a sick day.”

“I don’t have any yet. You have to be an employee for like a year before you start getting them.”

“This is your mental health, Will. Calvin can handle things without you.”

I hesitated.

“Stay home and I’ll take care of you, okay? I don’t have a co-op shift today.”

Around that time I wrote a story for the Star about a music video called “Junkyard Bettie”. It was directed by a local dude named Jonathan Robinson and featured an Aussie singer named Sofiella Watt. She was backed up by her banjo-plucking hipster band the Huckleberry Bandits. Set in an actual junkyard just outside of town, the video told the story of a lonely young traveler struggling to make it through a Canadian winter. Oh, lady winter, you have done me wrong, you’ve done me wrong. Oh dark December, won’t you please be gone, please be gone? Played by Sofiella’s friend Lauren Herraman, the dark-eyed protagonist wanders morosely through a bleak landscape populated by derelict cars, only to discover some friends and end up at a barnyard dance party. When I interviewed Sofiella, she told me the lyrics were a true story she picked up from a housekeeping co-worker at a local hotel. The woman’s boyfriend had left her, her cat went missing, and all her missing posters were rained on and got torn down. 

Then the junkyard dog bit her.

“It was one of those quintessential blues song scenarios where everything goes wrong. I said ‘that’s terrible, but such an amazing story’. I asked her if I could write a song about that, because I could never make up something that good.”

I admired Sofiella’s ability to take a dark experience and create something beautiful out of it, but wasn’t sure how to accomplish that in the Star newsroom. Calvin had found himself embroiled in a number of community conflicts, and his stress level was rubbing off on everyone around him. I made excuses to leave the office when he was upset, setting up interviews across town or just wandering down to the park to take some pictures, because I couldn’t stand being around his energy. Tamara felt the same way, and when he wasn’t around we’d sit commiserating over all the unnecessary drama he’d brought into our lives.

“At the end of the day, you have to take care of yourself. And if Calvin’s negatively affecting your mental health, maybe that’s something you should report to management,” she said.

“I feel like such a whiner.”

“You’re not whining — you’re just expressing your truth.”

“The truth is I think he’s going to quit any day now, and I can’t wait.”

It wasn’t just work getting me down. Though I couldn’t admit it to myself, cannabis had become my primary mental health problem. In Victoria we’d been consuming a little baggie of weed a week, maybe two, while in Nelson we were literally burning through hundreds of dollars’ worth of pre-rolled joints a month.  Was it the solution, or was it the problem? It was like an extra rent payment. Somewhere along the line we started buying pot before groceries, and a few times we ended up with an empty fridge while we waited days for the next paycheck. Sometimes we went begging to our parents. It was our ritual, the way we bonded, watching Pineapple Express and making candy runs to 7-11, but it was also the way we coped with our feelings post-fight, it was how I treated my depression and she treated her pain, and increasingly it was more of a chore than a fun time.

As we started to make friends our age, it became apparent that we weren’t alone. We were surrounded by functional chronics, people who operated in a perma-stoned state, and for many of them cannabis was nearly interchangeable with coffee. Both were something you consumed to tweak your mood and outlook, both lasted a few hours, and both cost around five bucks a hit. I found myself hosting never-ending debates in my head about the benefits and drawbacks of my new lifestyle, trying to weigh what it was costing me against all the benefits I was becoming dependent on. Was my memory worse? Was I less present? Could I really stop smoking if I wanted to? Paisley and I repeatedly made vows to quit, sometimes lasting a few days, but inevitably it crept back into our lives. Whenever her parents visited we had to do a thorough job of hiding the evidence.

“I never would have predicted that I’d become a stoner,” said Paisley. “My whole life I avoided it, never touched it, was never interested. And now it’s got this fucking hold on me.”

“You can’t blame yourself.”

“Watch me.”

Despite this, Paisley’s job at Kootenay Co-op was going well and she was making new friends. Her desserts were generating us a third income, and she was writing recipes and coming up with new culinary innovations all the time. From September to December she was happily busy, walking downtown once a week to practice her burlesque routines at Boob Camp with Charlotte Coco Orchid, and the rest of the time she spent nesting with the dogs and decorating our house. She went out and purchased the costume she was going to need for the upcoming show, then showcased it in our living room before heading out to a photo shoot with the other women. She looked adorable, in clown makeup and fishnet stockings, and I held her in my arms.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “Maybe you should be in the show.”

I snorted. “It’s next week.”

“Charlotte’s looking for a male performer to pick up the clothes left on stage between sets. I was thinking about it, and you went to theatre school. You should totally do it.”

“I’m not going to do burlesque.”

“Why not?”

That was a good question. She continued to push the issue until I agreed to talk to Charlotte, and pretty soon I’d been recruited. Paisley took me out shopping for a pair of white “manties”, a baggy Speedo decorated with bright red hearts, then we bought a set of blood-coloured wings that matched the plush bow and arrow I would be carrying. I did love being onstage, and had arguably done more outrageous things in high school, but the concept of prancing around in my underwear in front of a bunch of Kootenay strangers definitely gave me pause. It would be a spectacle. For it to work properly I was going to have to be thoroughly shit-faced, I knew. I worked my way through four or five beers before we even headed down the hill to the show, at the Hume Hotel.

“You’re not allowed to hit on the other girls,” she said. “And don’t be creepy.”

“I won’t be creepy.”

“I mean it.”

“The only one I care about is you, okay?”

Once we arrived in the warm-up room, it was game on. Women were rushing in and out, changing from one costume into another, and some wild-haired dude was giving himself a sponge bath in the sink. Show-tunes and party anthems were blaring from nearby speakers. I met a little person named Cotton Candy and an older burlesque legend named Suzanna Sultry who the women all worshipped. We all posed together for a photo. One of Paisley’s friends took charge of decorating my torso with lipstick, inviting the others to leave kisses from my treasure trail to my collarbone. Don’t be creepy, I reminded myself, as they took turns kneeling in front of me. Over the months that Paisley’d been doing Boob Camp I’d come to know a bunch of them, and a few of us ducked into a back alley to smoke a joint. Upon my return the photographer grabbed me, and said she wanted a few shots of me with Paisley. I turned to her, held her close to my chest, and gave her a gentle kiss as the shutter snapped. Eventually Charlotte gathered everyone into a circle for a pep talk. The topless woman standing across from me was missing one of her nipple tassels, so was clutching her boob with one hand.

“Look at all the power in this room,” Charlotte said. “I am so proud of each and every one of you. You’re going to go out there and blow them away. You’ve done all the hard work, and now you get to reap the reward.”

Standing back-stage clutching a beer, feeling cold sweat collect in my hairline, I wondered if I was about to humiliate myself. There had been no rehearsals, no real instructions. Was I supposed to go out between every number, or just a select few? Was I supposed to dance, and if so, what kind of dance was I supposed to do? There’s a subversive element to burlesque, I knew, and a sense that nothing is sacred and everything is silly. I could get down with that. For her first performance Paisley marched out with the five other women, working her way through an elaborately choreographed sequence that saw the women crawling across the floor, hurling themselves on to their backs and spreading their legs wide. I congratulated her as she came breathlessly off-stage, then kissed her as Charlotte beckoned me forward. I was in bare feet, brandishing my bow and arrow, and upon my entrance the audience roared with approval. I gyrated, spinning around to bend over like a porn star, and frolicked drunkenly as I went searching for the various layers and lacy bits that had been left behind. Charlotte was loudly announcing something into the microphone as I gave the audience a last wink and departed. My back and shoulders were shimmering with sweat, my hair wet against my forehead, my limbs vibrating.

I can’t believe I just did that, I thought.

While the show progressed I stood at a gap in the curtains and looked out at the rowdy crowd, some of them in costumes, who were roaring and shouting for the performers onstage. These are my people, I thought. Charlotte was a champ, commandeering the entire thing while performing multiple sets herself, and Paisley cuddled up beside me. Charlotte chased Cotton Candy around the stage, both of them half-naked, and then a boylesque performer did a leather-clad striptease. I was continuing to drink, and somewhere along the way I’d been forgotten — which I was fine with. I wanted to get back into my real clothes, but that would mean cutting through the parking lot in my underwear. I was just planning my escape when Charlotte introduced Isla Valentine, who was performing her first ever solo set. A milky-skinned brunette, she slinked across the stage and threw herself down on a chair. She smiled languidly at the audience, undoing her bra. Upon release she whipped it into the air triumphantly and flung out her jiggling breasts — dislodging both her pasties, which flew into the audience.

“Oh, shit,” said Paisley, as the crowd gasped. “She must not have glued them right.”

Isla quickly clasped her hands to her nipples, her face furrowed, and for a moment it looked like the number would be over. But as we watched, a look of determination crossed Isla’s face. Fuck it. She dropped her hands, stood up, and continued dancing to elated whoops. Striding from one edge of the stage to the other, she jutted out her hips and whipped back her hair, grinning defiantly.

“Wow, she really went with that,” I said. “Good for her.”

“No, not good for her. She’s going to get Charlotte in trouble. She told us ahead of time: the hotel can get fined for nudity.”

“Really? You think they’ll actually fine Charlotte?”

“They could.”

“It was a mistake! What was she supposed to do?”

Paisley frowned. “You don’t get it.”

The remainder of that evening is a haze, but one memory remains intact: meeting Ryan Martin, the owner of the hotel. I’d heard from multiple people in town that he was an important person to know, a powerhouse in the business community, but we hadn’t crossed paths yet. While I padded along the carpet coming back from the bar, double-fisting and still in my underwear, I nearly bowled him over coming around a corner. As soon as I realized who he was I was embarrassed, and felt like I needed to explain myself. Nearly naked, with lipstick smeared all over my stomach and the crimson wings drooping over my shoulders, I knew I was something of a radical sight. I stammered out that I don’t actually drink that much, told him this wasn’t usual behaviour for me. He grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “This is the Kootenays.”

The Kootenay Goon

[kpdaydreamingabout]

Japan

4 April 2017

For a guy my age, I’ve seen a lot of the world already. Different climates, terrains, animals, people, cultures, colors, perspectives; I soak it all in and take bits and pieces back with me.

I had the opportunity to choose where my friends and I would travel to next. Instead of choosing Australia and South America (the two remaining continents outside of Antarctica I have yet to touch), I chose Japan, one because the tickets were dirt cheap, and two because the last time I went, I had a life-changing experience, and I wanted my friends (Bruce, Cam, and Jimmy) to have that opportunity as well.

The first city we visited was Shibuya, the city known in the US as the setting for Tokyo Drift. Shibuya is truly awe-inspiring, with a culture and beauty that leaves you speechless. Like NYC and Las Vegas, Shibuya is a city that literally never sleeps. As a reference, I stayed at a bar that remained packed until 5 in the morning! And the lights….don’t even get me started on the lights. They are the lifeblood that keeps this city humming. My personal favorite activity in Shibuya is people watching at night (sounds simple, I know). Climbing a ten-plus story building to the top and peering down at the hordes of pedestrians below, going about their everyday lives under the bright lights. There is a feeling of peace that the view provides. Very few activities in this world that can match the bird’s eye view of Shibuya. 

If you know me, when it comes to Japanese food, you know that I love yakitori (I would eat skewers everyday if I could), while maintaining a weird relationship with ramen in San Diego (in the States, I can count on my hand how many ramen bowls were worth the price, and I have had  A LOT of ramen bowls). Where the yakitori in San Diego is amazing, it is on another level in Japan. It was so good that we made it a mission everyday to find yakitori joints around Japan. And Oh my god, the ramen. I’ll say this; the WORST ramen I’ve had in Japan would match, if not exceed the taste of the BEST ramen I’ve had in the States (and that is because they used a style that is common in the States). That is not an exaggeration. We visited one of the most well known ramen shops in Japan, and it was literally Heaven in my mouth. It was so good that I had two bowls in the span of an hour for breakfast. 

The next destination after Shibuya was Osaka, my third favorite city in the world after my hometown San Diego and Dubai. The nightlife is insane, I’ll just start there. Where Shibuya is a place where the popular thing to do is find a restaurant and babysit beers with your friends after a long day of work, Osaka was a place known for letting loose and drinking for hours after work. 

One of the first places we happened upon on our first night was a place called Milk Bar. The owner/bartender has shelves of vinyls all over the bar, and plays said vinyls of rock music from the 60s to the 80s all night long. I really liked the vibe, and felt it was a great way to kick off our first night. It was also the first time that I really went out and drank with Bruce, Cam, and Jimmy, so it was a hilariously fun time wandering the streets of Osaka drunk with them (Bruce and Cam usually black out at their parties, Jimmy usually smokes). 

The second night after spending a day trying new foods and treating ourselves to massages, we found a nice food court(?) where locals come to have beers and eat finger foods all night. Again, it was a great time drinking with my friends as I got to see a side of them I never really knew about (They’re relative lightweights, but I tricked them into matching me on drinks). So for a solid three hours or so, we chilled and talked over piles of skewers and multiple rounds of beers. 

We then decided to go to this place where the whole second floor was made up of at least ten different bars. At one of these bars was where we met a bartender named Kanaan, a Japanese girl whose last night living in Osaka happened to be that very night (she allegedly began drinking four hours prior to our arrival). 

She was probably one of the most down people I have ever met. This girl took me completely by surprise.

First of all, I never expected to meet a Japanese girl who was as cute as she was chill (And I mean chill as fuck! The first two words she taught me were “oppai” aka boobs, and “kanpai” which is the equivalent of cheers or DOWN YOUR SHOT BITCH depending on the context). Second, never expected said chill Japanese girl to be able to drink like a sorority girl (I have never seen anyone who can down tequila straight without flinching as much as I saw her do it, AND SHE WAS STILL FUNCTIONAL ENOUGH TO POUR DRINKS). And lastly, I never expected someone who was okay with getting deep with a complete stranger from another country (not a single boring or awkward time with her).

As you can tell, this girl had me sprung like a damn slinky.

Anyways, back to the story. So my friends decided to sneak home, leaving me with a bunch of drunk Japanese people. So, it being her last night and all, I asked Kanaan to show me around after her shift, not expecting her to be down because who in their right mind would hang out with a complete stranger in the middle of the night, right? BUT THE GIRL SAID YES, and I ended up having one of the best nights I have had in awhile. 

She introduced me to places in Osaka that only the locals knew about (none of that Trip Advisor or Yelp shit), had the best whiskey I have ever tasted, and bonded with a bunch of random Japanese people (have some new drinking buddies for the next time I go). I walked her home, and despite the fact that my place wasn’t far away, she wanted me to come up. 

It was crazy to me, because where did she come from? This girl came out of nowhere and showed me the time of my life. 

Waking up next to her the next morning was a strange feeling. I knew and understood that the moment I say goodbye and walk out that door, that that was it. (Poof) I would never see her again.

That’s the beauty of life, though, I guess. Sometimes, whether it be fate or pure coincidence, you come across amazing people whose purpose is to help you re-calibrate and get you back on the road you were meant for, disappearing as fast as they came in. I will never have the chance to create moments with her again, and that’s okay, because the few I was able to have were incredible. 

So one long tangent later, a toast to Kanaan, a girl who defied all reasoning and expectations (chugs beer).

Sidebar: so this may not be funny to you, because you had to be there, but that very morning after leaving Kanaan’s house, my friends and I prepared to see the cherry blossoms in Tokyo (the full bloom was expected for the week after we left, but the blossoms were still a sight to behold). I suited up, so I was looking as fresh as a five star sushi restaurant (had to bust out a Japan simile heh heh heh). I was getting double takes from both females and males all day long, just sayin’. Anyways, getting off track as usual. So, we boarded the subway and were making our way to the outskirts of Tokyo, our next destination. There were these two girls in our car that would not stop checking us out! Like literally, they were staring as if they were peering into our very souls. (And I am pretty sure they were staying longer on that train than they intended to, because our commute was a solid 40 minutes). So, as they were eye-fucking us, we were texting each other joking about what they were planning on doing to us once we got off the train (I know it’s a little fucked up, but I am dying while typing this by the way. One of the girls will forever be known as the Amish Snape). Again, i don’t expect you to find this funny because you weren’t there, but the memory will always be funny to me. End sidebar.

So our next destination after that was Kyoto which, don’t get me wrong, is a beautiful city with plenty of history laced within its roots, but we weren’t in that “let’s take pictures of touristy shit” kind of vibe (what makes it worse is that we knew that Kyoto would be a boring destination WEEKS in advance, but still decided to go because we booked an AirBNB there). We really wasted a day here as all we did was take a hike up a mountain shrine, ate, and then went home to take a nap that in turn morphed into a 10 hour sleep (granted the room we had was great with three separate beds). 

So we returned to the outskirts of Tokyo, namely to buy gifts and see the Sky Tower (the largest tower in the world), before getting bored and ultimately deciding to return to Shibuya to explore further (It took literally a week, but we were finally able to get karaage chicken and Steins from a very exclusive restaurant, and oh my goodness was it worth it). We packed shopping, drinking (we literally drank at least twice a day), and finding new spots to eat all into that last full day. 

The very next morning, I woke up really early and decided to take a stroll to soak it all in before leaving. I happened upon an empty park that was full of cherry blossom trees (the parks were usually packed with picnic goers during the cherry blossom season, so this was an anomaly and a blessing). I was extra thankful for that, because I was allowed time to meditate by myself, feeling the energy of the nature around me.

Anyways, I’m sure I’m forgetting some moments from the trip, but that’s all the word vomit I could come up with at the moment. And, as has been the case with my blog logs in recent weeks, my ass is not going to edit this shit, BECAUSE I AM TIRED AS FUCK! In summary, we ate a lot, drank a lot, and truly had a great time. The highlights for me are obvious (cough Kanaan, cough food). I plan on coming back by next year for sure. 

I bid you adieu Tumblr. Let’s make this year’s birthday month legendary, yeah?

KP.