#except I am doing the bigger license later

[schattenmagier]

What kind of motorcycle does Lilli ride? And does she wear full gear or rather wears her casual clothes while riding?

// I hc that Lilli rides a Kawasaki Ninja 650 in black

Also sometimes she wears full gear and sometimes she doesn't. It deepends on her mood tbh. She isn't so much afraid of getting hurt, because she knows her magic can save her if she does get into an accident. But if she does wear full gear, it's also completely black.

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Once Upon A Grimm (1/?)

Summary: The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. Many, like the Grimm brothers, had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions. Creatures known as wesen. Supernatural, other-worldly beings who have always lived among humans and have always been hunted by those who had come to be known as Grimms. A struggle of secrecy, balance, and power among these species has existed since the beginning of time. This is a story of a man with his own struggle. The internal struggle of being a human, a wesen, and a Grimm, and the external forces that seek to eradicate one or all of his natures, especially those he tries to keep hidden. Fortunately, Killian Jones is not alone in his struggles nor his secrets. His personal savior, Emma Swan, has secrets and struggles of her own.

A/N: This fic is inspired by and will borrow from the NBC show Grimm. I confess I did not watch Grimm when it first aired, but absolutely fell in love with the show during a binge fest years later. If you have not seen the show, no worries! My beta - who has not seen the show either - assures me that it is not necessary. If you have seen the show, then I hope you’ll forgive the huge creative license I am taking with the material. This is not a strict Grimm retelling with Once characters. This is my own spin on the lore and cannon of both shows.

I had hoped to be further along in writing this before my posting date, but alas… ‘tis not the case. This is turning out to be a much bigger beast than I intended and will likely be one of the longer fics I have written to date. That said, I do want to attempt to keep to some sort of schedule, so for now, I will be posting every two weeks in the hopes that I can bank more chapters and eventually update more frequently.

I cannot express how much I have enjoyed being a part of the @cssns all these years. Thank you to the mods who have kept it going year after year. We've had a terrific run! Huge shout out to @kmomof4 for always being my cheerleader and for her exceptional beta skills. A HUGE thank you and many fangirl squeals to my artist @eastwesthomeisbest for the amazing job she did on the cover art that accompanies this fic. Please go show her some love!

FYI: Because the show took cues from the Grimm brothers’ works, much of the vocabulary associated with the supernatural creatures was based on German or German coded language. For words like wesen and woge (which will be explained in the text) the w is pronounced with a v sound on the show. I’ll be using terminology from the show and more common creature names interchangeably within the fic.

Rated E (eventually) / Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Prologue:

The world was far more complex than most people realized. Humans went about their lives, completely ignorant of the fact that there was a world of fairytales existing right alongside them. Well, not really fairytales. Not in the Disney sense, anyway. The Grimm brothers had woven the truth into their stories, but the creatures they wrote about were even more nightmarish than their macabre and monstrous depictions.

Wesen. That’s what one of the Grimm brothers had called them in their other writings; in the journals and manuscripts they’d kept, cataloging these beings who walked among humans, yet were anything but.

Though Jacob Grimm had not been the first of his kind - those who were capable of seeing these creatures, these wesen, for what they truly were - for whatever reason, the men and women who possessed this same ability, this same birthright, would primarily become known as Grimms throughout the wesen world.

Perhaps it was because of how meticulously the elder Grimm brother had kept records, or how he had been the first to re-establish connections and relationships with others of his kind for the first time in many centuries, allowing the exchange of knowledge and organizing a more methodical way of dealing with the creatures their forefathers believed must be eradicated.

Though no one knew how or why, at some point, long before the brothers penned their first novel - no doubt inspired by the eldest brother’s encounters and retold as folklore by the younger - those who now called themselves Grimms had taken up the responsibility to protect humans from wesen, slaughtering entire bloodlines of these creatures without hesitation or remorse.

Never considering that they themselves weren’t exactly human either.

For just as wesen were born unto wesen, Grimms were born into Grimm families. The ability to see the truth, literally, passed through the family bloodlines, but there was only ever one Grimm in a family at a time. Possessing special abilities, Grimms had superior strength and stamina, as well as an ability to heal faster from injury. They were quick studies in the use of weaponry and had a natural talent for art and story-telling, which was a necessary trait given that they were compelled to chronicle all of their wesen encounters.

However, the most important gift was their ability to see a wesen woge when others could not.

A woge was when a creature would change from their human to wesen form, revealing their true, animalistic or nightmarish self. Although humans were capable of seeing a creature for what they truly were should it woge fully, most woges were a half measure, a demi-woge as some called it, only perceptible to other wesen - because they possessed wesen sight - and Grimms who could use this trait to identify their next target. However, it was also during a wesen’s woge, demi or full, that they could, in turn, identify a Grimm as well.

While Grimms only existed through birthright - a new one obtaining his or her powers when the previous Grimm in their family line died - not all creatures were born wesen. Some were made. Which, in the Grimms’ eyes, was one of the reasons they were so dangerous. Although gemacht - created - wesen were typically outcasts, and not favorably looked upon within wesen culture, the fact that some creatures had the ability to curse humans with a bastardization of their form, giving them the worst of their traits, was more than enough reason to eradicate their kind.

Some Grimms wondered whether wesen created these halflings as a way to throw suspicion off themselves, leaving Grimms to deal with these feral, newly turned and disoriented wesen while the pure-blooded wesen made their escape. Perhaps they were created for these types of distraction or even as a way for wesens to draw the attention of Grimms towards rival groups, using the hunters to dispatch their enemies for them. Whatever the reason, gemacht wesen were typically hunted by Grimms and wesen alike, considered by both sides to be an abomination, therefore, little was known about them, but there were some records within the logs kept in Grimm families, if one cared to look.

Killian Jones, however, had no interest in looking, or knowing, or learning, or indeed, having anything to do with his family’s Grimm legacy.

He and his brother, Liam, had been raised with the knowledge of their mother’s family’s ancestry. She had been the Grimm for her family line, until her death when Liam was sixteen and Killian twelve. A car accident that had claimed both of their parents' lives, and had altered Liam’s. Violently.

Upon Alice’s death, Liam had acquired the powers and abilities of the Grimm, but not the discipline or the skills to hone them. Fate, being the fickle, wretched bitch that she was, had placed the Jones brothers into a foster family of klaustreich, an alley-cat type creature that was prone to aggression and cruelty, as well as jealousy and a sense of possessiveness towards anything or anyone they felt a proprietary pull towards. Not typically known for their altruism, they likely only fostered children for the paycheck and as the Jones boys could attest, often mistreated and abused their charges.

The boys might well have been able to endure if the klaustreich son had not, in an attempt to intimidate and scare Killian into submission, woged with Liam in the room. Once the family had identified Liam as a Grimm, all hell had broken loose.

Fortunately, as most Grimms did, Alice Jones had made preparations in the event of her and her husband’s death, leaving the care of her sons and the knowledge of her bloodline in the hands of a fellow Grimm, Nemo. A longtime friend of the family, Nemo had, unfortunately, been overseas when he’d heard the news of Alice and Brennan’s demise. Having just arrived in town with the intention of taking custody of the boys, he showed up to the house with the authorities on the very same day the cat had been let out of the bag, so to speak.

Battered and bruised, but none too worse for wear, the Jones boys - who had fought off the feral, feline family and barricaded themselves in one of the rooms - were removed from the home, and into Nemo’s care. The clowder of klaustreichs was arrested by the police, who thought they had stumbled upon yet another sad, but all too common case of child abuse and neglect within the foster system.

That tussle with Liam was not the last time the klaustreichs met a Grimm in battle. However, the next one did not end as favorably for them. Nemo made certain of that.

Shouldering the responsibility left to him, Nemo moved the boys to Maine for a fresh start. By all outward appearances they lived a normal life, but nothing could have been further from the truth, although Killian certainly was allowed more normalcy than his brother.

After school, the boys had to endure hours of instruction, learning the various types of wesen and the most effective ways of killing each of them. Decapitation seemed to be the most popular choice among their Grimm ancestors, earning them the secondary moniker of dēcapitāre, as noted in the journals they kept in the basement of their Nantucket style house. That was until a break in had made Nemo overly cautious, causing him to acquire a second property - an old, abandoned, paint factory warehouse - where he’d fashioned an off the grid, bunker-style safe house on the harbour. He moved all of the Grimm artifacts, manuscripts, weapons, and supplies there, while keeping he, Liam, and Killian in the family home for appearances.

As the years passed and the boys grew older, Nemo and Liam spent less and less time at home. Often they crashed at the safehouse after a late night of sparing or studying, or they would be gone for days at a time… hunting. Though he missed his brother, Killian had reconciled the fact that he’d effectively lost him the day of their parent’s accident. Nothing had been the same between them since Liam had become a Grimm, but that did not mean they did not still care for and love one another. They just weren’t as close as they had once been, and they likely never would be.

After Killian had graduated high school and went off to college, the three men had effectively gone their separate ways. Nemo had fulfilled his promise and duty to Alice, and Liam had his own path as a Grimm to forge. During undergrad, Killian got a chance to embrace a true sense of normalcy for the first time in his life. Campus life, girls, classes, girls, parties, girls; he relished it all and even found his calling during one of the university's many job fairs and recruitment events. With his degree in criminology completed, he enlisted in the police academy and quickly worked his way through the ranks of the Storybrooke Police Department, located in the very town Nemo had moved them to all those years ago.

Though the Nantucket style house had long been sold, Nemo had transferred the deed of the safehouse to Liam and Killian, using false names and a dummy corporation in order to hide the identity of its true owners. While Killian wanted nothing to do with his family’s legacy, and had gone to great pains to try and forget the horrors he had learned about as an adolescent, he had relented when Liam begged him to take up residence at the safehouse for his own protection.

“Please, little brother,” Liam pleaded over the phone, the sketchy connection muffling Killian’s petulant response of ‘younger’ before he continued, “I know you want to distance yourself from me and our heritage, but if the wrong sort of wesen found out you were related to a Grimm, then--”

“Aye, I know,” Killian said with an exasperated sigh. “Having a Grimm brother puts a target on my back. I’m not a fool, Liam.”

“Then you’ll live at the safehouse?” Liam pressed. “And you won’t ever tell anyone or bring anyone there? You swear?”

“I swear.”

He’d been good to his word. Though he rented a modest studio apartment in the city so that he might have a physical address to keep on file with his work and avoid questions, his real residence for the past several years had been the loft in the safehouse, one level up from the bunker that still held remnants and reminders of who his family truly was, books and artifacts Liam had left behind when he’d filled a trailer and left Storybrooke for bloodier horizons. Books and artifacts Killian was determined to ignore, even if part of the agreement in him staying there was that he’d watch over things and keep them protected.

Perhaps, if he’d ever taken the time to look through those manuscripts when he’d dusted and oiled their bindings and covers, he would have realized the danger he’d fall victim to before it was too late.

~/~

“Are you sure this is even a homicide?” Killian asked the detectives who were about to leave the gruesome scene. He was still just a uniformed officer, but his application to take the detectives exam had been accepted and he was eager to work crime scenes through a detective's eye. “Looks more like an animal attack.”

“DNA will tell us for sure,” one of them said while scribbling down something in his notebook. “Make sure the scene stays secure while CSU finishes their work.” Shooting him an apologetic look, he added, “I’m afraid it’s gonna be a long night.”

“Will do, detective,” Killian replied, lifting the crime tape for them, so they could pass under it and make their way back to their vehicle. Their heated vehicle with comfortable seats and snacks likely stashed away in the glove compartment.

Killian sighed and turned his attention back to the grisly site where a hiker had been found mauled and torn to pieces, with no clue as to what could have done such a thing except, strangely enough, a lone, fresh, boot print that had not belonged to the victim. He had asked whether this was truly a case of homicide because that was the question other officers and even some of the techs had been asking, but in reality Killian had his own suspicions. Suspicions that might have him calling his brother later should the case be deemed an animal attack, knowing full well it had not been an animal who had caused such carnage. He may not remember much from the lessons Nemo had tried to teach him alongside Liam, but he knew enough to suspect that this attack had been committed by a wesen. And a brutal one at that.

Killian’s pocket buzzed and he reached in to retrieve his cell phone, groaning silently at who was on the other end of the line.

“What is it, Will?” he answered. “I don’t have time for whatever it is you’re calling about. I’m trying to secure a crime scene.”

“Aw, come on, Jones. Not you, too. It’s Friday night, the moon is full, you ought to be out on the town and livin’ it up!”

Killian tried to stifle a half smile, then asked, “What do you mean, not you, too?”

“Rob’s gotten roped into extra duty tonight as well,” his mate informed him. “Something about a missing girl over in Glowerhaven.”

Glowerhaven, like Storybrooke, was a suburb of the larger city Killian’s precinct had partial jurisdiction in. Robin, Will, and Killian had all met at the police academy and despite Will washing out several months in and Rob being assigned to a different precinct, they’d all remained close over the years. Will now ran a bar at the epicenter of the intersecting lines of the city, Glowerhaven, and Storybrooke, and often tried to make it a hub for his mates and their uniformed colleagues.

Unfortunately, it sounded as though the SPD and the GPD would be too busy with their respective cases to live it up anywhere, much less at Will’s bar.

“Sorry, mate,” Killian commiserated. “Afraid I’ve got a long night ahead of me as well. Rain check?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will replied in a feigned disgruntled tone. “I’ve heard that before. I’ll add it to your growing tab of IOUs.”

“I promise I’m good for it.”

“Yeah, sure.” A more serious sigh crackled over the line before Will added, “Take care and watch your back out there, mate. The world is full of crazies.”

���Will do,” Killian promised, ending the call then muttering to himself, “Don’t I know it.”

For the next several hours Killian vigilantly patrolled the perimeter of the crime scene while the techs gathered evidence. It was just after midnight when the CSU officer in charge told him they were finished.

“Do you need me to have one of my guys stay to help you finish clearing the scene?”

“No,” Killian replied, waving them off. “You lot still have hours of work ahead of you.” With his thumb in his belt and his hip cocked to one side, Killian jutted his chin towards the scene and said, “It’s only a bit of tape and one final patrol. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” the tech said, already motioning for their people to pack up their things and head out.

Killian watched the vans depart and began tearing down the police tape they’d used to cordon off the area. The techs had left behind one of their flood lights for him to use while finishing his own tasks, but after he stowed it away in his cruiser he realized how unnecessary that had been. The moon was bright enough for him to do a final patrol with the assistance of his flashlight to illuminate the hidden areas within the trees’ shadows.

He’d just finished a sweep of the perimeter when the skin at the back of his neck prickled and his hair began to stand on end. The area, which moments ago had been softly soundtracked by an ambiance of crickets and distant hoots of owls, had gone quiet.

Too quiet.

Reaching down to his holster, he flicked loose the restraining strap with his thumb before palming his side arm. “Who’s there?” Killian called out as more prickles of unease crept over his skin and up his spine. “Storybrooke PD! Identify yourself!”

Movement flickered in his periphery and the quick succession of snapping twigs alerted him to someone fleeing the scene.

“Halt!” he yelled out while in hot pursuit with his gun drawn. “Storybrooke PD, I demand you stop and identify yourself!”

Barely able to keep pace, Killian chased after the suspect. His attempt to call in the incident over the radio on his shoulder had been met with static as he was clearly too far out of range. Not wishing to lose the perp, he did not want to risk digging his phone from his pocket, lest it slow him down. The pursuit lasted for an agonizing length of time, drawing Killian deeper and deeper into the woods, his legs burning and his lungs screaming from the extreme exertion.

He finally stopped after bursting into a clearing, biting back curses under his heaving breaths for having lost sight of the suspect. Holstering his weapon, he doubled over with his hands on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath. A painful stitch began to form at his side and sweat from his forehead threatened to blur his vision.

The snap of a branch was the only warning he had before something solid collided with him, knocking him to the ground. Inhuman snarls and the gnashing of teeth curdled Killian’s blood even before he caught sight of the monstrous wesen he was currently trying to fight off with all his might.

Blutbad. The Big, Bad Wolf. In full woge and ready to tear Killian’s throat out.

With his left forearm braced against the beast’s neck in an attempt to keep its canines from getting any closer, Killian reached down to try and retrieve his gun. Searing pain ripped through his arm. The blutbad had chosen to sink its teeth into the nearest bit of flesh he could get to, and Killian screamed as the bite turned to tearing. A shot went off, startling the creature and forcing him to release his prey, and it took Killian a moment to realize he had fired the weapon while in the throes of agony. Nearly blinded by the pain, Killian sat up and took aim at the fleeing blutbad, but could not manage to get another shot off before it disappeared into the trees. Shakily, he got to his feet, a howl in the distance making his blood run cold and causing his entire body to shake.

He had to get out of the woods. He had to call for back-up. He had to…

Stumbling, he headed back towards his cruiser. At least… he thought he was heading that direction. Brambles and branches scraped against his face and caught on his uniform while everything around him turned hazy. Off to his left he could see the flicker of a campfire. No. That wasn’t right. There were no campsites in this part of the forest, only hiking trails with strict policies regarding nighttime use. He headed towards the flames anyway and had to shield his eyes when he got closer, the light practically blinding him.

“Is anyone… is anyone there?” he called out, weakly, even as his other senses were being assaulted. He could smell a pungent mix of ingredients but had not the knowledge to identify them. There had been a grating sound of stone scrapping stone that had stopped when he’d entered the site, and it had been followed by a gasp that he was certain had meant to be soft and nearly silent, yet it had rang clearly in his ears.

Unable to hold himself up, Killian collapsed to the ground, his entire body shaking violently and causing his teeth to chatter together. Footfalls pounded against the ground like a drumline and he managed to pry his eyes open in time to see a woman rushing to his side.

“H-Help,” he pleaded. His arm was still on fire from the pain while his body was wracked by chills. When the women bent over him, he was certain he was starting to become delirious as well. What other explanation could there be for an angel to appear to him?

“What happened?” she asked, looking him over. “Were you--”

“Attacked,” he choked out, lifting his arm so she could see his wound.

Peeling back the torn remains of his uniform, she examined the bite mark and her face grew pale and pensive.

“Oh, no,” she murmured.

Quickly, she stood and rushed back to where she’d come from. Killian tilted his head backward to try and keep his eyes on her, not wanting to let her out of his sight for several reasons. The scraping sound returned as she began to grind something with her mortar and pestle and though he could not decipher the words, he could hear them slip from her lips in a chant. Blackness began to creep from the corners of his vision, but not before he saw an unnatural shimmer erupt from beneath her skin. The last coherent thought he had before slipping into oblivion was that she must be an angel, because witches did not possess such beauty when they woged.

Quite the opposite really.

~/~

His body was stiff, his clothes soaked through from sweat, causing him to shiver. Attempting to pry his eyes open he coughed past the cottony feel lining his mouth and throat, then groaned when he began to shift positions.

“Don’t sit up too fast,” a soft, feminine voice warned him.

A hand pressed against his chest and the padding of whatever he was laying on dipped. Blinking, he tried to focus his vision, but had to clamp his eyes shut again when the soft lighting of the room blinded him.

“Bloody hell, that’s bright!”

“Oh, right!” the woman said. He could feel the bedding move as she did, and the room dimmed behind his eyelids. “There,” she said a bit further away now. “That should be better.”

Forcing his eyes open, he winced in anticipation. Fortunately, the lighting was easier on his vision now, so he took the opportunity to survey his surroundings. Bottles and canisters filled wooden shelves of deeply stained and aged cases that lined the long walls of the room. There was a massive workbench in the center of the space with a door at the far end. Behind him was a large, curtained window that overlooked the street. He could hear the occasional car and sounds of the city beyond. Beside him was a cased opening that led out to another space. Some sort of shop, by the looks of it. Spices and aromatics danced on his tongue and made his sinuses flare and itch.

Achoo!

“Bless you,” the voice said from the shadows next to the opening, and the blond angel from the forest emerged with a wary, yet concerned expression.

“You,” Killian said in a scratchy and unfamiliar voice. He tried to clear his throat, but it was too dry. Undeterred, he said, “You’re the woman from the woods. The hex, uh… hexen…” He cursed himself for not being able to remember the wesen term for witch.

“A hexenbeist?” she supplied with a tone of surprise.

“Aye!” Killian replied a little too enthusiastically, erupting into a fit of coughs.

Her expression and posture still guarded, she took a few steps towards him, assessing him with her brilliant green eyes. “You know about… us?” she said. “Wesen?”

“Aye,” he replied in a tone of gravel.

“How?”

Again, Killian tried to clear his throat, but he seemed incapable of producing any saliva.

“Could I trouble you for some water?”

The request snapped her out of her wary, slightly accusatory stance, and she quickly made her way to a small fridge at the back of the room. Killian considered his answer carefully as she grabbed a water bottle and brought it back to him, giving himself a few extra seconds to craft his response as he slowly sipped the water and coaxed moisture back into his throat, knowing she’d likely ask him again…

“So, how do you know about wesen?”

“I, uh…” he began, working through a few more coughs and deciding that something close to the truth would be best. “I had the misfortune of being fostered by a family of klaustreichs after my parents died. The son took great pleasure in tormenting me with his woged state.” His brows knit together and he cocked his head to the side as he glanced up at her. “How did you know I wasn’t just wesen myself?”

The pinched look of concern returned to her features and her gaze slipped from his down to his bandaged arm. “Because of that,” she told him. “If you were wesen then it wouldn’t have…”

She turned and grabbed one of the chairs resting against the wall. Bringing it over, she set it next to the bed then lowered herself onto the seat with a resolved and resigned sigh.

“You knowing about wesen is going to make this a little easier to explain, but it by no means is going to make it easier to accept.”

“Make what easier to accept?” Killian asked with a sense of dread.

“Do you know what attacked you tonight?” she asked.

“Aye.” Killian nodded. “A blutbad. In full woge.”

She shifted uncomfortably, causing the chair to creak annoyingly in his ears. “And do you know the significance of him being in full woge during the full moon?”

“I, uh…” Frantically, Killian searched his memory for any knowledge regarding blutbaden and the full moon. He couldn’t seem to concentrate over the pounding of his heart and ripples of anxiety coursing through him, though.

Perhaps sensing his distress, or simply wishing to deliver the blow with a measure of comfort, the woman took Killian’s hand and asked, “What do you know about lycanthropes? Werewolves?”

Killian shot off the bed with an unnatural speed and agility, forcing the woman from her chair and causing her to skitter back several steps. Her hands, raised protectively in front of her, were illuminated with a soft glow that seemed to originate from her palms. Killian lifted his own in supplication, an apology slipping from his lips.

“Sorry, love. I just…”

I can’t be, he thought with chaos and hysteria threatening to overtake him. I can’t be a lycanthrope. Liam kills lycanthropes.

Shaking the thought from his head, Killian swallowed hard and fixed his attention back onto the wary woman.

“Apologies,” he began again. “I don’t know how I… I’m not sure what--”

“It’s okay,” she assured him, lowering her hands as she took measured steps towards the workbench. “I can only imagine how much of a shock this is.” She braced her hands against the top of the table, an old, worn book laying open between them. “According to this, you're going to feel the effects of the change immediately. So, it’s only natural that you--”

“The change?” Killian croaked out. “You mean… becoming a werewolf? I’m a… Are you saying, that thing has turned me into a…”

“Yes.”

Something about her direct yet compassionate tone eased the hysteria threatening to overtake him. Releasing a heavy breath, he ran his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands at the back, before dropping his hand to his chest where he pressed against the thundering in his ribcage.

The sound of the book sliding across the table pulled his attention back to the woman. Her expression beckoned him forward as she propped herself onto one of the stools that had been tucked under the work surface. Slowly, he shuffled forward until he stood hovering over the open pages of the book. He was struck by the similarities it held to the journals and manuscripts he’d been forced to study in his youth, with hand sketched illustrations and captions that had been translated into a myriad of languages.

“Not all blutbaden can create a lycanthrope,” she told him. Reaching over, she gestured to a section of text. He read without comprehending, his mind still racing. Fortunately, she paraphrased it for him.

“Lycanthropes, or more commonly known as werewolves, are created by blutbaden with a specific genetic mutation. The blutbad essentially goes off the rails during the full moon, and if they bite a human, and the human lives, they transfer some of their wesen characteristics to them.”

“Which characteristics?” Killian asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea.

“Your senses will be heightened. Sight, sound, smell. You’ll notice an increase in them in your day to day life, but they’ll be on overdrive, like they are now, during the full moon.”

“Will I…” he paused, swallowing back the bile working its way up his throat. “Will I… transform? Woge?”

“According to this, you’ll only be capable of woging during the full moon. I don’t think you’ll see other wesen woge outside of that time frame either.” Bringing the book back towards her, she turned the page and added, “Basically, everything is intensified during the full moon. Your senses, your mood and emotions, your abilities. You’ll be stronger, faster, have greater endurance and stamina, but will also be prone to volatile reactions. Your temper will be shorter. You’ll likely be more aggressive.”

“Violent, you mean.”

“Maybe,” she replied. “Aggression doesn’t have to turn into violence. You’ll just be more…”

“Like a powder keg.”

Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his, causing his eyes to flick up to hers.

“I can help with that.”

Relief and hope filled him and he gripped her hand in his. “You can… you can reverse this? You can cure me?”

She squeezed his hand and her expression effectively burst the elated bubble that had formed in his chest. “There’s nothing I can do to make you human again,” she said, remorsefully. “But there is something I can do to help mitigate the symptoms and keep you from falling prey to the worst of the condition.”

His shoulders slumped and he took a moment to come to terms with his new reality. He was no longer human. From this point forward his life would never be the same. It was like losing his parents all over again. Like losing Liam to the calling and duty of being a Grimm. He already hid so much of himself from those closest to him. From Will. From Robin. Now he would have to hide away these parts of himself from Liam. From Nemo. No one could ever know the fullness of who he was. The true him.

He wasn’t even sure if he knew who he was.

Bringing himself back to the here and now, Killian pulled his hand from the woman’s grip and asked, “What do you mean? How can you help me with… all of this?”

Again, she turned their focus back to the book. “Wolfsbane is a plant known for its uses against blutbad,” she told him. “It can hide one’s scent from them. It can also subdue them if they ingest it in great quantities.” Her eyes fell to where his arm was bandaged. “I made a paste of it and other herbs to apply to the bite so your transition would be less… intense, and it appears there is a tonic you can take at the outset of each full moon that can help minimize the effects of the cycle.”

Turning the pages again, she gestured towards a list of ingredients as well as a recipe for the tonic.

“There isn’t much here about the tonic’s effectiveness or what side effects it might have, so it would probably be best if we plan for you to just stay with me during the next full moon so I can keep tabs on you. See how it makes you react.”

Before he could even comprehend what he was doing, Killian moved into the woman’s personal space and wound a section of her hair through his fingers, his eyes hooded in a smolder and sultry tone dancing on his tongue as he cheeked, “If you wish to spend time cooped up together, love, just say so. No need to stand on ceremony.”

The widening of her eyes and sharp gasp falling from her lips made him balk and stumble back.

“I’m sorry, lass. I…” Forcibly shaking himself he took a tentative step back and declared, “I have no idea where that came from. Please forgive my…”

“It’s okay,” she said in an amused tone, waving off his apology.

“It is?” he replied, incredulously.

“I mean,” she continued, “I understand where it came from.”

“You do?”

She hummed, affirmatively, and explained, “It’s a blutbad trait. Using flirtation, charm, and guile to disarm their prey or throw off their rivals.” Turning the page again, his eyes fell to an excerpt he vaguely recognized from the Red Riding Hood tale. “How do you think the big, bad wolf charmed his way into the grandmother’s house after ingratiating himself with Little Red?”

“I don’t see you as prey,” he said in the hopes of assuring her, even as something within him wanted to counter the statement.

“Of course you do,” she said with a shrug. “I’m an attractive woman all alone with you.” Wetting her lips (which absolutely did not have his pulse rate ticking up and his uniform trousers tightening), she swallowed and cleared her throat before adding, “Some part of you is provoked by that and your new wesen side, being severely heightened, became overly stimulated by it. Hence the inappropriate proposition.”

“I swear you have nothing to fear from me, lass,” Killian vowed. “You’ve done me a great service and the last thing I would ever wish to do is--”

“I know,” she assured him. “I told you. It’s okay.”

Killian exhaled a shaky breath and a thought occurred to him. “Why are you so keen to help me? Not that I’m not grateful. It’s just… you don’t even know me.”

“I know you didn’t ask for this,” she said. “I know, being a cop, that you're a man who likely just wants to help people and that you were just out there trying to do your job.” Her demeanor, which up to this point had been a mixture of confidence, toughness, and candor with an undercurrent of compassion, shifted to one of vulnerability. “Also,” she began in a quiet voice. “The truth is… I’m not a natural wesen either. I’m a gemacht, a made wesen. I’m not… I’m not entirely accepted by others of my kind. By the covens. So I guess…”

“You have an understanding of what I’m going through and what I’ll face.”

Straightening her shoulders, her resilient bearing returned. “No one should have to go through this alone,” she told him while opening a drawer and taking out a small card and pen. “So, take this,” she said, handing him the card after she’d jotted something down. “It’s my business card for the shop, with my personal number on the back. Feel free to call or come by any time.”

Killian took the card from her hand, his fingers brushing against hers which sent a ripple up both their arms. He ignored the physical proof of their mutual attraction, just as he had been ignoring the growing chemistry during their entire encounter, and focused his attention on the card.

Swan Spice and Tea

Emma Swan, proprietor

“Thank you, Swan,” he said, tucking the card into his pocket. “I’ll be in touch about that tonic and we can make a plan for the next full moon.”

“That sounds good, Officer Jones.”

Killian cocked his head quizzically to one side, prompting her to nod towards his uniform.

“It’s on your name badge,” she reminded him. “K. Jones?”

“Right,” he said, reaching up and sheepishly pawing at a patch of skin behind his ear before extending his hand towards her. “Killian Jones. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Swan.”

“Likewise,” she said, placing her hand in his and offering him a soft smile.

They stood there for the span of a few erratic beats of his heart, and it took every ounce of willpower he possessed to not pull her into his arms. She was stunning, with her creamy skin and golden tresses. Even in the low light he could make out the splashes of freckles across her nose and shimmer of gold flecks in her captivating green eyes. Although smaller in stature, there was nothing weak or feeble about her form, even in the softest places. A form he found rather alluring, from the shape of her curves to the swell of her breasts. The way her hair flowed over her shoulders. The way her breath hitched when he skimmed his thumb over the pulse point on her wrist. The way she wet her plump, pink lips with a soft swipe of her tongue.

The way her skin glowed with an ethereal light that suddenly turned blinding.

“Bloody hell!” Killian cursed, wrenching his hand from hers so he could cover his eyes.

“Sorry,” she said with a note of contrition. “But you were… doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he huffed against the irritation spiking through him. Blinking hard, it took a few seconds for his vision to focus. When his sight finally adjusted, he found her several steps away with an amused smirk playing at her lips.

“Eyeing me as though you’d like to make a meal out of me,” she said matter-of-factly, yet without any hint of admonishment or fear.

Killian cursed under his breath. He’d developed something of a reputation in college: lady’s man, player, rake, charming bastard, scoundrel. In the years that followed, he’d done his best to put his womanizing ways behind him, choosing instead to use his looks and natural charm to his advantage as a cop when it came to comforting victims or disarming perps. So, while his current behavior was something out of character to who he had fought to become, he was certainly no stranger to this emerging personality the newly bred wesen side of him was cultivating.

“It’ll get easier to control,” she assured him. “Remember, these traits will be strongest during the full moon, and just as the paste is helping to lessen them now, the tonic should help you keep a rein on things going forward.” Closing the book, she skimmed her fingers over the cover and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth before glancing over at him once more and suggesting, “Although, it might be a good idea, as much as you are capable, to limit your contact with people during that time. I don’t know how feasible it would be for you to take those days off from work, but avoiding high stress, high confrontational situations would probably be a good idea until you’re better equipped to--”

“Aye,” he said in agreement, running his hand through his hair again. “A wise suggestion.”

He shuddered at the thought of losing control of himself at work, surrounded by his fellow officers. His fellow armed officers.

The desire to make detective was now about so much more than his own personal pride and sense of accomplishment. As a detective, he’d have greater say over his schedule. Until then, he may have to slack off on his paperwork and use the days of the full moon to isolate himself in one of the private offices in order to “catch up” on his reports.

“I’m sure I can work something out,” he told her.

“Fortunately,” she said, jutting her chin towards the window and the soft, pre-dawn glow that was beginning to creep through the gap in the curtains. “This was the last night of this full moon cycle, so you should be okay once the sun is up.”

Killian’s heart thudded hard in his rib cage and panic swept through his bloodstream. “Bloody hell! What time is it?” he frantically patted his pockets in search of his phone. How long had he been gone? Who knew he was missing? He had to get back to the woods. His cruiser was still there. At the crime scene.

The crime scene.

The body of the hiker.

The blutbad who’d attacked him was a killer.

He needed to find him and--

“Whoa! Slow down,” Swan urged, grabbing onto his forearms and giving him a slight shake. “Your phone is on the table next to the cot. I don’t think anyone is aware of anything being wrong. You have no missed calls or texts.”

Killian balked. Had he said all of that out loud?

Releasing him, she grabbed his phone from where it had been laying and along with it, his keys. “Your cruiser is in the alley out back,” she told him, gesturing towards the backdoor at the far end of the room.

“You… You drove it here?”

A sheepish expression scrunched through her features as she confessed, “Actually. My brother did. It took some convincing, but he finally agreed to go get it after I got you back here.”

“Your brother? You’ve a… is he… is he wesen also?”

“He is,” she confided. “He’s a leschen.”

Killian’s ignorance must have been apparent in the pull of his brows and tilt of his head.

“They’re sort of… tree-like, wooden wesen.”

“And he took some convincing because…?”

“Because you’re a cop,” she confessed. “He’s been on the wrong side of the law a few times. Nothing violent,” she added quickly. “Just… maybe do me a favor and don’t have your car fingerprinted?”

“I suppose,” he conceded, “Given the circumstances. I can overlook your brother’s involvement in this evening's events.”

“I appreciate that,” she said on a relieved breath and with a soft, weary smile.

The side of him he was beginning to identify as the wolf caused him to feel torn about leaving. The longing he felt to stay, the primal, proprietary drive that kept creeping up within him as he remained in her presence was one he could now discern, and though not quite as overwhelming as it had been before, was still very much present.

“I should go,” he choked out with conviction, subduing the beast. “It’s late. Or rather… early?”

“Right,” Swan replied, wetting her lips and guiding him towards the back door. “We’ve both had a long night and could definitely use some rest.”

For the first time since he awoke in her spice shop, Killian was struck with curiosity as to what she had been doing in the woods when he’d stumbled upon her. It was clear from the way she swung open the door, revealing his cruiser parked in the alleyway, and issuing her farewells with a stifled yawn that it would be a question he’d have to leave for another time.

“Remember,” she called out before he could slip behind the wheel. “I’m here if you need anything.”

“Aye, Swan. Thanks. Thank you for everything,” he replied with a deep, rich sincerity in his tone. “I’ll be in touch.”

“See you at the next full moon?”

“Aye,” he promised. “See you at the next full moon.”

Chapter One

[simontalbot]

Toronto -> New York Trip - Day 1 (14 October ‘23)

IT'S BACK!! The long awaited and highly anticipated return of my travel blog - after a few fallow years thanks to Covid. It's full of incredible insights about the places, people and cultures we encounter on our travels. My thousands of followers will be so pleased...

Nah not really.

It's just a bunch of poorly taken photos (except Kirstie's that I steal) and a brief account of what we've been up to. Mostly for Mums, Dads and anyone seriously bored enough to take a look (Hi Mum and Dad!). It is also a nice little record to look back on from time to time or refer people to if they are planning to go to any of the same places. So here goes...

We made it to TORONTO. For this trip we start in Toronto and end in New York with a combination of buses, trains and cars in between - but mostly a road trip either side of the border. I am visiting my 40th country in my 40th year, I can't help but love the congruity.

We got in to Toronto just after lunch, sailed through the airport (super smooth, but sadly no passport stamp!), took the train and subway to Danforth, a suburb just east of downtown Toronto. After a few blue-dot-google-map mishaps, we found our Air BnB. It is in a pretty sweet residential area with lots of small houses, many of which are decked out in Halloween decorations.

After a quick freshen up (and power nap) we took the subway downtown. The subway system is really straightforward with only a couple of lines and there is a really good streetcar (tram) system overground. It is all tap on tap off with Apple pay/contactless cards which couldn't be easier.

We walked from Union station along to the CN tower. At 553 metres high it was the tallest structure in the world for many years, but it has now slipped to 10th place. We thought we would save going up the tower for another day. We passed by the aquarium, Rogers Centre (Baseball stadium) and the Railway museum and headed to the nearest streetcar stop to take us uptown. We jumped off at 'Graffiti Alley' to take a look around. It wasn't quite Hosier Lane in Melbourne, but there is much more street art in Toronto to take a look at later on. There was, however, a photo shoot happening of a swanky Ferrari in front of some of the graffiti, which had a very apt license plate 'LOFUNDS' (show off)...

After checking out the graffiti, we headed a few blocks further up to Chinatown for some dinner. We opted for a place with great reviews, 'Wok Theory'. It was full of Chinese customers, it sold XiaoLongBao (my absolute favourite food - soup dumplings) and it was nearby. It did not disappoint. The server was really interested in where we were from and giving us advice of what to do in Toronto which was nice. Aside from the food being excellent, the place was immaculately clean, and we were able to just sit for a minute and do some planning.

We moved on and took a stroll along Queen Street West, which was a hive of activity with people getting into the Saturday night spirit. With Cannabis very much legal and very much accessible in Canada, it was clearly popular with many night time revellers as we walked past various groups of people.

Kirstie and I were definitely not in the Saturday night spirit after a long day of travelling and were ready to head back for a sleep. We jumped on the subway and headed back to Danforth and popped in a supermarket to pick up a few bits for breakfast on the way.

We have three full days in Toronto to come (including a day at Niagara) so there was no need to rush!

Welcome to Toronto!

Choo choo! Toronto Subway.

CN Tower. Soz babes, I’ve seen bigger.

A little snapshot of Toronto. One of my shit pictures…

‘Graffiti Alley’. An alley with Graffiti. Toronto is literal.

More graffiti…

Dinner. Straightforward but delicious. Xiaolongbao (at bottom) Lovely.

CN tower and downtown Toronto by night…

Halloween in our neighbourhood…

Halloween in our neighbourhood 2

[wiypt-writes]

25 Days Of CHRIS-Mas

Day 25: A CHRIS-Mas Carol

Part 2: Present

Summary: You and Chris have a love/hate relationship…in that you love to hate one another. But it hasn’t always been that way, and sometimes, to build a better future, someone has to be the bigger person and remember why and how it wasn’t always that bad.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Actress Reader

Warnings: Bad Language, smut (NSFW, 18+)

W/C: Hazard a guess about 7k ish?! Poss more.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, any likeness to any persons or events in real life are purely co-incidental. I do not own any characters contained herein bar the reader and/or any original characters. I do not give consent for my work to be copied and posted/translated onto any other sites. If you see this fiction anywhere other than Tumblr, it has been taken without permission.By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer and ALL warnings posted here.

A/N: So this is my first EVER RPF and came from an idea I’ve had in my head for ages. It’s split into 3 parts. I know some creative license is taken with the timings of filming some things mentioned, but in my world covid didn’t happen so… roll with me! Posted on mobile with my left hand. Apologies in advance for any mistakes!

Part 1: Past

Yesterday is the past, tomorrow is the future. Today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present.

December 2021

"Apparently, we’re fucking again.” Your voice filled Chris’ ear and he laughed as he readjusted the phone, tipping some kibble into Dodger’s bowl.

"Happens every time we do something together. I take it the Ghosted casting news broke?"

“I’m just not sure how I’m supposed to have the time, what with you, Seb, Cavill and Hemmy, I’m spreading it about.”

Since wrapping up four more Marvel films with Chris, your tenure ended as Marvel's Shadow in a few guest appearances in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier; a Sudanese spy drama with Chris, as well as an original script murder mystery and now a second book to script spy film both starring Chris as a male lead, not to mention the countless other projects you had managed to book in the last eight years. Since patching things up in Orlando that night, you and Chris become close friends. You’d become his preferred leading lady, and the fandom frequently went wild over it.

"That's a herpes nightmare not to mention the gonorrhea." Chris snorted.

"Yeah about that, Imma need the number for your clinic.”

"That's rude." He deadpaned.

"You're not denying it.”

“For the record, I didn’t have gonorrhoea,” he sighed, before he smirked to himself, “it was chlamydia.”

"God, you're disgusting."

"How's Cavill?”

“Oh he’s great. Such a genuinely nice guy. His girlfriend is lovely too. Made me feel so welcome. I’m sad it’s all fine now but hey, season three starts June so… it’s all good!”

"Am I going to get to see you and celebrate Christmas before I head back home? I'm only in LA until Tuesday. Then I won't be back for a while."

“Yeah, I get back in tomorrow evening. You all done on Grey Man?”

"Except for ADR later, yeah," he replied. "I noticed you weren't on the reshoot list."

"I'm that good."

“That or you already did most before you fucked off on press…”

"That too." You laughed. "So, don't get mad, but I kinda grabbed a couple of gifts while I'm here."

"From London?" Chris chuckled, "you know I've been there quite a few times, most of them with you."

"I know. But it's Christmas and these things spoke to me. They practically screamed 'Chris' as I walked by. Or was that when I was in Prague two weeks ago with Hemmy?"

“Name dropping doesn’t impress me.” He teased.

"No? What does impress you then?”

"Hard work, honesty, kind heart...."

"Pretty face, nice ass?”

"Meh, depends," he chuckled

You laughed, “okay, so I need to finish up packing but I’ll let you know when I’m back. Any night in particular good for you?”

"Anytime Friday to Sunday, that okay?"

"Saturday night then?"

“Great, seven work?"

"Seven is fine."

"See you soon."

With a smile, Chris slid his phone onto his pocket and looked around. He hadn’t seen you now for almost two months and he was look forward to catching up.

He typically wasn't in LA for the holiday season, especially not this late into it, but with his reshoot schedule, he was needed. His house lacked some holiday spirit but he thought to soon fix that with your visit.

By Friday, with Scott's help, Chris had put together a small amount of spirit from a little table top tree to a fresh wreath and garland. He even had a nice swag on his mantel and some lights strung out back.

Whilst you yourself weren’t an LA native so to speak, you were spending Christmas in the area with your family this year, and he knew your place would be decorated ridiculously as soon as you got the chance.

Saturday afternoon arrived, and brought with it a quick trip to the garden centre followed by the store to make sure his fridge was stocked along with topping up his snack supplies. A quick shower followed by a check of his emails and social media took him through to seven, and the security system informed him your access code had been used to open his gate.

He hadn't even given you the chance to knock before he threw open his front door only to see the tail lights of her Uber behind you and you on his porch, dressed in a soft cream coloured cashmere sweater, denim jacket and black skinny slacks, leopard ballet flats on your feet.

"Merry Christmas!" You beamed and his chest hitched a little at your smile.

"Merry Christmas!” He grinned back, pulling you in for a hug and lifting you off your feet slightly.

Dodger waited patiently in the entry for them to enter before he gave his sweet, tail wagging welcome with a jump to your hip and an attempted lick to your face.

“Oh, baby!” You giggled, kneeling down. “I missed you too, Dodge. I did!”

“Too?” Chris teased, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. “So you missed me?”

You stood and popped a shoulder, "I did."

He smirked. Even he had to admit that there had been a shift in your friendship lately and while you text and talked often, something felt good about having you in his house tonight, even if it were only a few minutes.

"I see you decorated," you commented, pulling him from his head.

"Well, I couldn’t exactly let Miss Christmas come round without making the effort.”

"Meh, I'm going for the minimalist look this year. With five days to go, I've managed the tree and a wreath. I don't care to make the effort with so little time this year left."

"Very uncharacteristic of you, Y/N, I'm shocked."

“It’s just been crazy,” you sighed, “I don’t think I’ve ever had work commitments so late before ever.”

"Me either, it's been a weird year."

You made your way into the kitchen where you set your bags down on the island chair and leaned against the Italian marble. Dodger had followed, wondering if he'd get a snack to eat.

"Wine? Champagne? Beer?" Chris offered.

"Fizz, please," you smiled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh stop!” You laughed, “I can’t hear you say that without thinking of Cap!”

Chris bellowed a good laugh and smiled as he poured the Fizz and grabbed himself a beer. He then set about with small conversation about nothing really as he set out snacks, pre-arranged on platters.

"Well, look at you Mr. Fancy." You popped a strawberry slice in your mouth.

"I had help. Scott's and Steve are queens at throwing party plates together."

“I half expected them to be here,” you chuckled at his choice of words, “I’m assuming they’re both going to Boston for Christmas?”

"I don't know about Steve yet. His family had some sad losses this year so he's a little undecided. Scott and I fly back together Tuesday morning."

“Shit, that’s rough.” You frowned.

"Yeah, I know." He sighed, "anyway, you said your family is coming in, when do they arrive?"

You sighed with a smile, "yep, bright and early Thursday morning from y/ht. I'm excited. It's been too long since seeing them all at once."

“They here for New Year too?

“Erm, no. Actually, about that… I’m gonna be in Boston on New Years.”

"What? Seriously?" He was shocked, and a little disappointed you hadn’t said anything.

“Don’t look at me like that! I only found out yesterday myself, it’s a work… thing.”

Chris narrowed his eyes at you , "alright, have secrets, I get it." He picked up a cheese cube and tossed it into his mouth.

“Oh for… fine, but if I tell you and you tell anyone I will murder you in your sleep.” You folded your arms, “I’m meeting Feige."

"In Boston?" Now he was really confused.

“Feige is from Boston you dork!”

"Well no shit, but..." He laughed, "but.... Okay, spill."

“He’s there for Christmas and asked if I could meet him. He has something to pitch to me and they need a decision quick to make it work.”

"Interesting. So you're going in in the dark, huh?"

“Kinda… from what I know, Shadow’s time might not be quite as done as everyone things. They’re talking about her being a part of the Blade movie plus an origin film of her own.”

"No shit?" Chris grinned. "That's wicked cool."

“Yeah, I dunno.” You shrugged, “her arc ended well in Falcon And The Winter Soldier. She got the closure she needed so this… it’s gotta be right and feel right, you know? Although I will admit, her being part of Blades world makes sense seeing as she’s half vampire.”

Chris nodded, "it does, but you're absolutely right." He reached for her hand across the counter, "it has to be what you want or there's no going back. You did a fantastic job with the character and I couldn't see anyone else in the role. Don't let them bully you into something you can't feel."

“Oh, no I won’t. And it’s gots work around the filming for season three of the Witcher, which as it stands is al I have next year, I was planning on taking a bit of time out. That said, Kevin did say there would be some shit for me to film next year which leads me to believe she’ll have an end credit scene or cameo in one of next years films if I go for it.”

"Hey, like I said, don't get sucked in. We all know how deep Marvel commitments run and I think you've worked more than enough to deserve some time to do something you want. Whether that be a break or another project that you're passionate about. I can honestly say, taking. 2020 off was a huge blessing for me."

“Yeah well, post season three I got shit,” you laughed, “spoiler alert, they’re killing Hanya off. They told me when they renewed all the contracts so…”

"So that's it huh, three seasons?" Chris chuckled, "you're forgetting something though."

“What?”

"Me. Our next project."

"Fuck… that too. Jesus, it’s no wonder Jake goes mad at me, I should pay him double. So yeah, basically, I don’t know!” You groaned, banging your head on the surface of the island. “Let’s change the subject. New Years Eve, Boston…” you peeked up at him, grin on your face. “Party?”

"At my place, like always, and I want you to come!" He smiled brightly, hopeful you’d say yes.

“News flash, I was gonna whether you invited me or not.”

"You're always welcome, any time of day or night."

“I’ll hold you to that when I’m bored of hiding in my hotel room.”

"Uh, cancel that reservation, you're staying at mine. I have plenty of room, and Scott and Steve, if he comes, can stay in the guest room in the main house. You could come and go from the guest house over the garage."

“I don’t wanna put you out,” you shook your head, “I’m gonna be there for five days.”

"Nonsense. Being in some bougie hotel for the holiday sucks. Why not stay with friends and enjoy it more?"

You hesitated, taking a deep breath, before you smiled. “Okay, what the hell. The world already thinks we’re fucking so…”

"Cheers to that..." He tilted his bottle at her.

You helped Chris with dinner, the two of you sitting after things were cleaned up in his living room with the dark skyline out the windows and a fire roaring nearby.

"So, I'm really excited about these. I hope you like them." You beamed giddily as you pulled a few wrapped items from the bag you’d brought in with you.

Chris started with the longer shaped box and tore open the festive paper after untying the bow. He lifted the lid on the simple white box and his eyes widened at the gift inside.

Handmade, blown glass pilsner glasses sat nestled in a velvet cushion for safe transport.

“All the way from Prague,” you smiled as he gently picked one up out of the box. "I thought they'd go great with your tap in Boston."

“They’re fantastic!” He grinned, looking at you, “really…I love ‘em!”

"Good! I'd hoped so!"

He set the gift down on the table and grabbed the gift bag, plucking the tissue from the open top. He reached inside and pulled out a tissue wrapped gift, one of three inside. He unraveled the tissue to find a delicate glass bulb adorned with gold filigree and garnet gems.

"It's a little girly but, I don't know, I thought you'd like it for some reason."

“Errr it’s shiny, you know I love shiny stuff!”

“Yeah, should have skipped the hassle and got you a tube of aluminium foil.”

"Simple things, sweetheart, simple things."

The other two ornaments in the bag were both handmade but of paper mache and simple, both he still enjoyed.

“Okay so… my gift for you isn’t anywhere near as imaginative…”

"So, that's not the point, you meatball."

“No, I know but…” he shrugged, standing up, “wait here and prepare to be completely underwhelmed.”

You sat and waited for Chris to return. It didn't take long and when he'd shown himself, he came with a large gift bag handing it off to you.

You pulled the tissue out and peeked inside, smiling at its contents. You reached in and grabed the gift, pulling out a beautiful green house plant with wandering vines.

"I love it!" You smiled.

“Thought it might replace the one I accidentally murdered earlier this year. But in my defence, I did warn you not to leave me in charge of anything green.”

"You've done fine all this time. I seriously love it, thank you!" You reached your arm around his neck and pulled him in for a hug. "I love it because you picked it out, and I know how picky you are when it comes to plants. You take your time looking at each one and that takes thought."

“It kinda reminded me of that one that Jamie Lee had in her trailer.”

You smiled and added a wink, "Thank you." You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Your welcome.” His hands smoothed up your back and you let out a contented sigh.

“I really did miss you, you give the best hugs.”

"Is it stupid to say the same thing?" Chris wondered.

"What that I give great hugs?" You snorted. He looked at you with a serious glance. You shook your head 'no' .“Nah, I don’t think so.”

"Can I be honest?"

"Please..." you waited for him to continue.

"I've been thinking a lot, about how long we've known each other, how much we've worked together, it's been years now. And the one thing that keeps coming back to my mind is Costa Rica."

You stilled a little and pulled away, your eyes searching his. “And I’m assuming you mean the wrap party and not just Costa Rica in general?”

"Yeah," he whispered.

You swallowed, “why? Why now?”

"I don't know. But it's been so long and I can still remember that night in perfect clarity."

“I… erm… me too.”

"I don't know what I'm doing but, I know I want to kiss you again. If you want me you. I feel like we had a missed opportunity and I'm really interested to see where we can go. I like you, I've liked you for a while and given our lives now, I think we have the chance to try. We have the time to try."

“Is that why you sat me here?” You blinked, your voice surprisingly steady despite the blood pounding in your ear as your chest hummed with anticipation.

"No, not entirely, I mean I wanted to see my friend, but if I don't tell you before I leave, I don't know if I'd have the sac to again."

“That’s not what I meant…” You pointed upwards and watched as his eyes tracked upwards.

“Fahk, no…” he snorted as he spotted the Mistletoe. "I didn't even... fahking Scott!”

“Shame…”

His eyes flicked quickly to yours and there wasn't even a blink as he registered your 'shame' before his lips were on yours.

The kiss was soft, gentle, nothing like the urgent one you’d shared all those years ago and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that rolled in your throat.

"Tell me to stop." He pulled back breathily.

"No."

“Y/N…” his voice was practically begging.

"I want this."

His eyes searched yours, you assumed for any shred of doubt. But knew he wouldn’t find one. Your hands cupped his lightly bearded face and pulled him down to the couch cushions with you.

His nose softly bumped yours as he licked his lips. “We do this, we’re crossing that line…”

"I know," you tilted up and kissed him again pulling at the back of his sweater.

He shifted, allowing you to yank it over his head, tossing it to the floor. And then his lips were back on yours.

His lips carried over your jaw to that joint by your ear, "I'm not... We're not doing this here," he hummed against your skin, his hands wandering like the vines of the plant he gifted you.

“Oh…okay,” you stuttered a little as his lips caressed that spot on your neck that made you melt.

Shirtless, he sat back, pulling you with him. His large hands cupping your face as he kissed you until you both stood.

You didn’t want him to stop, and to your delight he didn’t. Instead, his hands slid down over the cheeks of your ass to the back of your thighs. His knees bent and quick as a flash you were in his arms, giggling against his mouth as your legs wrapped around his slim waist.

You giggled as he chuckled against your lips, carrying you down the hall towards his room. Dodger trotted along behind the two of you, only to have the door kicked closed on his sweet face.

“Poor Dodge!”

"Fahk that." His lips silenced your next quip back, tongue gliding along your bottom lip. Thick fingers pulled at your sweater hem, lifting the garment over your head.

You and Chris had shared on screen kisses before, but there was something so different and natural about the way this fit that it made your belly flip. Because for the first time you knew he wasn’t faking it, just like you hadn’t been.

It was just like Costa Rica, passionate but soft. His hands held your waist as you stepped back towards his bed, the two of you falling into the sheets.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” his voice was a whisper as his hands trailed delicately up your sides, his finger tips brushing your skin.

"Don't waste anymore time then," you whispered. "We've got forever if we want it."

“There is one thing that we’re not considering,” he gently nipped at your collarbone.

"Which is?" Your own fingers curled through his hair and down his neck over his shoulders.

"Does this means I’m gonna hafta change your name in my phone from Pain In My Ass?”

You stilled, and then his laugh rang out across the room as you slapped his shoulder. In a quick move that you’d learnt when filming, your legs locked round his abs you flipped him over to his back. He grunted as you straddled his hips.

“Jerk.”

His hips tilted upward and you moaned, "you gonna let figure out what you like or are you gonna talk all night, baby?"

“You’re the one that keeps talking, Evans.”

In a flash, you were on your back again and his lips were on your skin, fingers finding their way to your slacks as his lower body bore the brunt of his weight, balancing directly over you, one hand perfectly straining to hold him still.

You raised your hips to allow him space to pull your slacks down over your hips. Without so much as a glance, he tossed them over his back, leaving you below him in nothing but your lace bra and panties.

"Fahk," he groaned, taking you in.

Your own eyes roved over his broad shoulders, his defined chest and abs. Your gaze followed that trail of hair down from his pecs, over his stomach to where it disappeared into the waistband of his jeans, just behind the buckle of his belt.

You couldn’t help but smirk at the obvious bulge at the crotch of his dark denims. Knowing you’d done that, made you feel a sense of pride.

Your fingers reached for his buckle but he was just a little out of reach, "Jesus, just, get them off."

“Impatient much?” He smirked, his hands making short work, the clanking of metal ringing in your ears as you sat up, your hand curling round the back of his neck.

"Yes, I am." You latched your lips to his and gave him a dirty tongue grind that made him moan while your free hand grabbed at his hard cock.

“Fahk,” he hissed, wriggling out of his jeans before he completely collapsed on top of you, tongue fighting yours for dominance.

Down your neck he went, nipping at your skin, laving at your collarbone before spilling your breasts out of the cups of your bra. You whimpered as his tongue danced across your nipple. He repeated the action, large hands curling round your hips as you arched your back, pushing your body further into his.

"Need you," you whined, "inside."

With a groan his lips crashed to yours in a short but bruising kiss and he pulled back, fingers curling into the lace of your underwear

A heavy breath escaped his nose as he looked at you, ready and wet. This foreplay was taking too long and the anticipation was literally making you squirm.

You could tell by the very large bulge he was sporting, and the weight of him in your palm before, that made him out to be bigger than anyone you've taken.

A split second later he was fishing in the drawer to the night stand, pulling out a foil square.

As you watched him, you took the liberty to remove your bra whilst he settled the condom over his shaft. Now completely naked, you watched in awe at the slender hips near yours, the wide shoulders and washboard abs and the tattoos, the loads and loads of tattoos that littered his skin.

His hand curled around his dick as he shuffled closer, lining himself up. Then, he took both your hands in his, twining your fingers together as he pinned them either side of your head.

A gentle tilt of his hips saw him slide into you, his eyes locked on yours as the both of you let our soft noises of satisfaction.

"Oh that's good," you bit your lip. He filled and stretched you, his body warm over yours.

“Glad you-approve.” His last word was timed with another gentle thrust forward that had your eyelids fluttering shut.

"Please don't stop... like that," you panted. "Fuck." You could feel your eyes roll behind your eyelids. It felt almost too good. You were well and ruined already.

"Baby, I don’t think I could… Stahp… if I wanted to.” His words punctuated by pants, you once more felt his lips on your neck. That beard scratched at your skin with every complimenting roll of his hips.

"Say it again," you whimpered as his pace picked up a little.

“What?” His mouth dipped into the hollow of your throat, kissed chaining up to your chin

"Baby...." you whispered.

A slow kiss cut you off, his thrusts deep as he brushed against that spot deep inside of you. Forehead pressed to yours, your noses bumped.

“Baby…” his lips hovered over your own, curling into a smirk as you let out a sinful groan. He repeated the word a few more times until you were clawing at his back with your blunt nails.

"Chris....." His name was a whimper on your lips as you drew nearer to your end. It was delicious torture, the way your body was building and teetering on the edge.

"You're close, I can feel you.”

And you were, so close, but you also didn’t want this to end. As if he could guess your thought, "cum for me, baby. I'll make you feel good again, I promise."

So you did. You let go of that last thread of self control you’d been clinging onto. Your body trembled from the tips of your toes to the crown of your hair. You squeezed around him and Chris had no control as he jutted forward a little harder than before

“God, honey, can feel you…”

"Yeah," you whimpered. "So good."

“Fahk, I’m… I'm gonna…” his words turned into a grunt as his hips turned sloppy. Burried to the hilt, he came, his face burried in the crook of your neck, his entire body growing rigid before he sighed, relaxing over you.

Breatheless and satiated, you led beneath him, thankful for the moment you'd shared.

Your hands slid up his back, one splaying between his shoulder blades, the other tangling in his hair as you let out a small hum of contentment.

"We're gonna do that again, right?" Chris asked, his breath still hot on your neck.

"I hope so."

“Good, me too.”

Neither of you knew what the future would bring, but chances are if you were given a look ahead, you'd both like what you'd see.

🎄🎄🎄🎄

Part 3: The Future

[mooifyourecows]

moo i don’t know if i told you but i got a job !! i think i actually have to quit very soon because of transportation and i can’t drive yet it’s just super inconvenient but i got it ! but yesterday sucked so bad. i’ve been working here a couple weeks but i only work weekends because of my moms work schedule and they don’t need as many people during the week because i work at a boat rental place. basically all that means is i don’t really know anybody except my bosses and their daughter and my friend i got the job with me. i also avoid all of the other employees because they are all men and i am very easily uncomfortable because of my past and i only really speak to my boss a kid from my school and one of the older guys. so yesterday i was mostly on counter duty to sign people in and get them on the river but that slows down A LOT later in the day. so i got put back on boat washing duty which is what i normally do and i know exactly what i’m doing. so with canoes they stay on a trailer on the back of our buses to be put away so they’re upside down on the trailer and i’m a short girl, like i’m pretty average in height but those are tall so i was washing two canoes on on the bottom and one on the top and when there’s one above it will drop all the mud and sand from inside onto the back of the other one and i washed that boat back and forth at least 10 times until i saw no more mud inside or on the back of the other one and i tried to get the back of that one as well but it was super tall so i climbed the trailer couldn’t see anything and worked on the bottom one. i cleaned that one with just as much precision. and a lot better on the outside because i could see it much better. only the boys drive the buses though since they all have licenses and/or they do the heavy lifting of the boats into the trailer. so this bus sat there for a bit since everyone was busy with other stuff and since i couldn’t do anything (no one was checking in and no new dirty boats came in) i just went and sat down for a bit. then this kid shows up and there’s a couple of younger guys that work when i work and one of them is kinda standoffish like i am but he is polite when he needs to be and introduced himself my first day and all that but this other kid is such an asshole. he just sat there didn’t even look at me a single time anytime he’s been in the same place as me since i started working. and he just walks over and starts washing the canoes i finished washing ten minutes ago (WHICH WERE COMPLETELY PERFECT (especially from the outside)) and they were new canoes so they were still shiny did not have a single spec of dirt. so my boss calls him and she said like something along the lines of let [me] know if the boats aren’t clean and what’s wrong with them so that [i] can fix it next time. then he starts talking about all these things that were literally just not true. talking about how there was a bunch of mud inside both of them and how i didn’t get the tops very well either but like i knew all of it was bullshit i literally got every spot i saw any mud in. the only thing i actually did wrong was not grab the life jackets and paddles out of the back because that has never once been my responsibility so i forgot. so i was so mad and my boss was clearly not happy with me either but i tried so hard and i made a stupid excuse for my boss and said i thought i cleaned them very well i might have just not seen some of it and apologized. so then i had to spend my whole day being perfect i couldn’t say anything about how i might have to quit because i had just made a mistake that in her eyes was probably huge (even though i didn’t really do anything) and i think i’m just gonna text her today but i could not face her or him after that i was so upset and nervous all day thank god i’m only working a couple more weekends.

Congrats on getting a job! Its a shame you have to quit soon and a bigger shame that you had that bad experience with your coworker. Unfortunately, negative encounters with coworkers is unavoidable, regardless of where you work. Even I, a full time stay at home writer, have to deal with annoying coworkers jumping up on my desk and knocking everything over or barfing on the rug or sighing loudly every time I stop scratching their belly. (And don't even get me started on my PETS)

I hope you got some good experience for whatever future jobs you pursue 🖤

[createandconstruct]

I have many thoughts about the new developments from chapter 306. And usually I never share my thoughts but here we go.

Vigilante Storyline

Izuku is very obviously going to be a vigilante. He puts his hood up in that last and seems to be going after that villain. While I’m sorting out my feelings on this twist I think it’s safe to say the majority of people did not expect. It’s a new direction and makes sense from a narrative perspective since the kids are entering their second year. Rather than have izuku and the students repeat the same school activities from their first year (which could get repeatitive) we’re moving into a vigalente/crimefighting hero story that puts izuku in direct conflict with current society. Good potential stuff.

UA students/teachers/All Might the next potential damsel in distress

The down side to Izuku’s plan however is that - as is typical in superhero stories (spider-man cough cough) - he leaves to protect his friends and family but I mean... come on kiddo. Shigaraki and AFO know what school you went to. They know your classmates. And they know your connection to All Might. I doubt we have to worry about Izuku being gone from UA and the other kids/teachers for long as they are in the hot seat for being AFO’s method for luring Izuku into his hands. There’s also a part in this that makes me nervous for All Might and Nighteye’s prediction. All Might’s horrific fate could very well be a result of Izuku’s actions in 306 if this is the catalyst that causes AFO-shigaraki to target UA and its students/teachers to get to Izuku. Having said that though, I still don’t think All Might will die. However, Izuku saving him (maybe with some classmates by his side) could be a very appropriate “I am here” moment. Also All Might can’t die cause I don’t want him to

Shinsou has the perfect open seat

Not a single classmate was removed from 1-A and Shinsou gets added in. Impecapble problem solving there. Izuku leaving so Shinsou can take his place is really a perfect move. Everyone in 1-A (soon to be 2-A) will still be center stage and now Shinsou will join them. Not to mention this could put all them at odds with Izuku who is know illegally using his provisional license without supervision. It will also be interesting to see Shinsou react if he learns that Izuku received his quirk from All Might. It depends on if he got a letter though. The bigger issue though is the fate of 1-A and the teachers in reaction to Izuku’s actions

Chapter 307 and the future

I feel like there’s a couple possibilities for chapter 307. We’ve entered a new arc with people living in the secured establishments like UA, citizens acting as vigilantes, villains going wild through Japan, AFO plotting to get OFA, and Izuku in need of a rescue from the track he’s on. So Chapter 307 here’s the possibilities from least likely to most likely: (1) We get another time skip? Really don’t think we’re doing this since 306 ends with a skip to April (2) We get a society chapter with a look at multiple perspectives like the villains, hero commission, etc. (3) We continue with Izuku’s point of view and his vigilantism (4) We get a flashback of Izuku visiting Gran Torino, getting the cape, and telling both All Might and Torino his future plans and intentions (5) We continue with reactions to Izuku leaving -the 1-A kids discuss and react to izuku. We see the fallout of Izuku dropping out and going AWOL on everyone but specifically on Inko, All Might,  Todoroki, Aizawa, and Bakugou.

I listed them in order of who’s reaction I think will have the biggest impact on the chapter and story. Inko because uhhh we need to see her reacting to this and having some conflict with All Might who obviously can’t keep his promise of watching over Izuku if Izuku isn’t, ya know, a student at UA??? Also we don’t know if Izuku even confided in All Might about leaving UA. It’s possible All Might was given a letter too but it feels 50/50 since if All Might is in the loop we can devote a chapter to the other characters’ reactions. Now Todoroki obviously received a letter. He’s probably going to deal with the validation of knowing something was up with Izuku’s quirk and maybe feeling conflicted on dealing with Touya vs going after Izuku or even following in his footsteps. I can see Todoroki confronting Bakugou about this as well. As for Aizawa, I feel like his reaction will set the direction for the new arc. Aizawa’s sentiment in the last arc was that he has to live to watch over his students and see them graduate. Obviously Izuku dropping out opposes that so I can see Aizawa leading the squad to bring Izuku back or work towards opposing AFO and his plans so that Izuku can return. The main part of this squad? Probably Bakugou. Bakugou expressed the idea that Izuku needs to stop winning alone. He’s likely to be pissed and hopefully charging forward with class 1-A to bring Izuku back whether that’s by going after him or fighting the societal issues so Izuku can return. I feel like Ochako and Todoroki will also be in the spotlight with Bakugou. 

Some Random Thoughts

Izuku dropping off and putting everything on his shoulders alone ties in well with Ochako’s character arc of wanting to be a hero to help other heroes.

There’s still the issue of the traitor. A part of me wonders if Shinsou may be used to figure out who the traitor is - whether they’re a student or teacher.

We also had the international heroes mentioned which feels very much like a setup. I still feel like a study/training abroad arc is coming (maybe even right now?? if we randomly find out Izuku isn’t in Japan but in America? I kinda doubt it though)

This really feels like a major shift in the story and essentially the start of the second act. Apparently Horikoshi made a comment that the story may be “ending sooner rather than later” in which I really up sooner is still much later. Things feel so promising right now I would hate to see the series end soon but then again as long as AFO-shigaraki has Ragdoll’s search quirk and a clear path to Izuku it really feels like we have nowhere to go except the end.

Though maybe the next main goal will be to take back Ragdoll’s quirk from AFO-shigaraki so that Izuku will be out of the hot seat

My final thought is when thinking about to Izuku’s words at the start of the series he says this is the story of how he became the greatest hero not the #1 hero. It could be Izuku reached that status as a teenager before even graduating by defeating AFO, stopping/saving shigaraki, and ridding the world of both the quirks of AFO and OFA. Thus Izuku’s career as a hero ends after the moment he became the greatest hero. Or he keeps OFA but only the strength and loses the other quirks and connection to the other users (which could include All Might if he becomes a causality). 

But on that note - so technically my final final thought - we got the predecessors all laid out for us in those chairs. Maybe AFO-shigaraki will have multiple encounters with Izuku, but rather than Izuku losing all of OFA he loses one predecessor and their quirk? I don’t really think this will happen though. Just a random idea.

Okay this post has gone on long enough. I just needed to explode about this chapter cause wow.

[eerythingisshaka]

Ficmas Day #24 “Christmas Ain’t Christmas Without Tre”

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 1.8k

Running out of your work building, you curse under your breath as the snow falls heavily to the ground.  You have a bad habit of not checking the weather and in the winter time that spells for a potential disaster, much like tonight.  The snow, coupled with the fact your car is in the shop, means getting home is not going to be easy.  

You blow your hand for heat as your other roots through your coat pocket for your phone.  Scrolling through a rideshare app, the little map showing your area has no cars available for picking you up.

“Fuck!  Why is everyone so scared of the fucking snow?”  You look around and see the diner down the street from you is still open and take a chance on heading for it.  You teeth chatter the whole time as you run and the wind blows flakes into your eyes.  Crossing the street you hop the curb but your heel hits a bit of ice, making you fall flat on your behind.

You wince in pain and get up slowly, walking up to the door and letting yourself in.

“Aw man, lady!  You ok?  I saw that from back here.  That was a damn nasty fall!”  The employee behind the counter shakes their head as they bring dishes back to wash.  You wave a hand signaling you’re fine.

“I just need to sit here.  Warm up and wait for a ride.”  You slide into a booth and groan in relief as you sink into comfort.

“You’re not gonna see a car in this.”

You look up and see Trevante standing by you in a camel colored coat looking suave and manicured as usual.  You can tell his eyes are a bit nervous though.

“How in the hell, of all places, are you here right now?”  you ask harshly.

Trevante looks away with a quick smile.  “I’m just here catching some late night eating.  Doesn’t mean anything with you.  I’m just about ready to head out anyway so-”

You sit up quickly.  “Wait, you drove?  Can I ride with you?”

Trevante’s eyes widened.  “Don’t you have a license?”

“Yeah, but my car is in the shop.  Plus no rides for me to call, so...please?”

Trevante’s expression gives you an instant feeling of regret.  “Wow, we say please now?  You’ve grown up, girl.”

“Ahhh whatever dude, just help me out.  We never gotta do this shit again.”

He points his hand out for you to lead the way out the door.  As you both walk through the parking lot, your mind runs some scenarios through your head: awkward conversation, awkward silence, his hand reaches for the gear but you think he wants your hand and you catch his and he looks at you funny-

“Why are you so quiet?”

You jump as he breaks your inner monologue.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re kinda acting weird.  My car’s right here.”  

You go around to the passenger side as he unlocks the doors, sliding into the seat and quickly shutting the door.

“It’s cold.”

Trevante turns his motor on.  “No shit it is.”

You adjust the vents in the dashboard so that the air flows your way directly.  “I mean that’s why I’m not talking much.”

“Ok.”  

The car is silent except for the roar of the heat circulating around you.  You wriggle in your seat trying to find a comfortable position but with little progress as your knees hit the dash in front of you constantly.  Reaching under the seat, you pull the bar to slide the seat farther back.

“You changing my shit over there?”  Trevante asks 

You reach for the side of the seat to lean it back a little.  “Can I have this one time courtesy?  Ain’t my fault you let little people ride in your car now.”

“I don’t let anyone ride in my car or make any changes in my car.”

You scoff, leaning back and crossing your ankles.  “You let me do whatever I wanted in this car.”

Trevante grips the steering wheel and looks up through the windshield.  “That was before.”

“Yeah, you right.  My man has a bigger ride than this so it’s usually not an issue but…”  You don’t finish your sentence as you feel the atmosphere change in the car.  You look sideways at Trevante but he’s facing his driver’s side window.  You silently curse yourself for coming off as boasting and try to change the subject.

“You gonna drive or what?”  

Trevante leans back with his hands in his lap.  “I’m waiting for this snow to pass.”

“What do you mean?  That might take all night, I gotta go home now.”

“You meeting somebody or something?”

“Maybe, like that’s your business anyway!”

Trevante laughs in a way that isn’t funny.  “That’s crazy.”

You turn to confront him.  “What is?  I don’t have all day to be here.”

“You’re coming at me while I’m trying to help your stranded ass!”

“No one asked you to-”

Trevante leans forward waiting.  “Say again?  No one asked me...to help?  Was that what you were gonna say?”

You sit back quietly, watching the snow fall against the window in fat clumps.  You ask yourself why you’re so mad and combative but maintain a wall for the time being and hoping for the snow to stop.

Trevante fidgets with a vent that is turned to you, adjusting it to blow in his direction.  “What happened to your car?”

You clear your throat.  “It’s a transmission thing or something.”

“Damn, it’s still got that issue?”

You nod.  “Yeah but, it’s fine.  It’ll get handled.”

“Ok.  I could’ve looked at it but-”

“I don’t need the help.”

Silence overtakes you both again as the snow entrances you, filling each space of the window.  

“Remember when I got you that shelf for your TV?  And it delivered that afternoon, but I had to go to work so I said I’ll put it together when I got off.  And when I got home-”

You snort laughing at the memory.  “It look like someone broke in and destroyed a perfectly good shelf.”

Trevante laughs with you, covering his face.  “Girl, don’t nobody fuck that up like you, man I coudn’t even do nothing with it.  Half the pieces were missing and it look like you beat it with a hammer at some point.”

“It was frustrating!  I did my best!  There you go hating!”

Trevante shakes his head.  “I’m not hating.  Like you said, you did your best.  You try a LOT.”

“It’s my best quality!  Giving up is not my forte!”  

You study the fabric of Trevante’s from his bicep to his wrist.  When your eyes land on his hand, you see an old scar from the very shelf debacle.  

You lightly smack the back of his hand to get his attention.  “Let me ask you for one favor:  Come with me to get my car so I know they not tryna charge me out my ass for it.”

Trevante shrugs his shoulders with uncertainty.  “I’m not sure.  What do I get out of that?  Driving you home here, checking your car out there?  What’s in it for me?”

“Nothing but a job well done.”  You wriggle down in your seat comfortably.  As time passes, the snow seems to be getting worse.  Trevante turns off the car’s engine.

“Why you doin that?  It’s gonna get cold!”  Your complaints fall on deaf ears however as Trevante remains steadfast in conserving energy.

“If I don’t have any gas to take you home, then what will happen?”

You groan, feeling the chill of the outside seeping in within minutes.  You shiver, pulling your coat tighter around and leaning into your knees so you form a ball.

“It’s not all that!  Come on!”

“I don’t have any other choice!  You’re freezing me out!”  

Trevante sighs, placing a hand on your back to give you a shake.  “Come over.”

You peek over at him cautiously.  

“Since you’re in my care, I’m offering a heat source.  Take it or leave it.”  He waits with his coat half open to you patiently.

You lean over to him without hesitation, feeling his strength as you lay against him.  Resting your heart on his chest, you hear his heart beating loud and strong.  Its percussive hum settles your mind, relaxing you as you drift off to sleep.

When your eyes open again, you barely can tell your surroundings as the area seems darker than before.  Your hands slide from around his waist as you look up.

“The snow stopped,’ you say out loud, waking Trevante with a slight jolt.

Trevante rubs his eyes and yawns aggressively.  “Shit, how long did we sleep for?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna get up.”

Trevante squeezes your arm with sleep still in his voice.  “Nah, we’ll sleep better once we out this car.”

You sigh.  “Fine.”

Turning our face up to him, you give him a peck on his lips before thinking and freeze in place.  You and Trevante stare into each other’s eyes as your lips lock, frozen in fear.  You pull  yourself back slowly.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

Trevante doesn’t say anything.  He just continues to stare, unblinking.  “I don’t need a reason.”

Once your gaze fell from your eyes to his lips, your body catapults towards him again, snaking your way around him to let his seat back flat.

As you crawl across to straddle him, Trevante looks around worried.  “What about the man you talked about?”

“I lied.”  You swing your leg around and start undoing his pants.  “I don’t know why, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But-”

You pause unzipping him with a huff.  “I don’t need an explanation!  You don’t need a reason!  That works, yeah?”

His hands reach around you, pulling you in to him.  He helps you out of your bottoms, feeling your hottest outside of your clothes than in them.  You kiss the familiarity of his hands as they travel every area of you enjoying the ride in his driver’s seat.  Your body shakes from being reintroduced to him, unable to calmly enjoy the feast for fear of being hungry again.

When he drops you off at your residence a while later, you hesitate getting out of the car.  When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it tightly.

“I’ll see you later, you know?”

He nods.  “Of course.  You know where I am.  Just text me before the car is ready though so I don’t feel used.”

You laugh quietly.  “Come in.   Just come inside.”

He looks away with restraint.  “That’s dangerous for us.”

“Walk me to the door.”

You get out of the car, waiting for him to follow you.  As you get your keys out of your pocket and in the door.

“Imma go now.”

You walk in and leave the door open for him.

[haro-whumps]

Group Whumpees: 1. Start

Inspired by this post by @whumping-every-day​ and @justtorturewhump​ about a group of whumpees. I’ve been thinking about it on and off ever since I saw it but I finally got the giddyup to actually write for it

CW: Modern slavery, implied + referenced abuse, death of a minor character, multiple whumpees, transphobia (brief), aftermath of torture/conditioning

--

Galo settled himself into the hospital chair, perfectly comfortable and positioned at a thoughtful angle to the side, opposite the door so physicians could easily enter. He’d intended for this to be a quick visit, but clearly his aunt had other ideas, so he might as well take a seat.

“Here I am on my deathbed!” Auntie Bethany raved, flinging her arm about wildly, and Galo internally winced each time she got too close to jerking on the IV, “Only ONE person comes to visit me! In my whole family!”

To be fair, your whole family is made up of jackasses, Galo thought privately, raising his hands in placation. “Auntie Bethany, please, you were just admitted today. I’m sure plenty of people will show up tomorrow.”

“None of them want to visit me, even when I’m going to die!” she persisted. To be fair, Galo didn’t really want to visit her either. He just… well, she was family. And she was in the hospital. And even though his family was estranged and largely filled with self-centered, arrogant individuals that made any kind of holiday event a stomach ache and a half, he tried not to be. So here he was. 

“You’re not going to die, Auntie Bethany,” Galo said patiently. “You’ve had this surgery before, remember? And you made it through just fine. I bet the same surgeon still works here, even!” Galo tried for a positive tone, cheerful. 

“Ah, you’re such a good niece for your dear old aunt, sweetheart.”

“I’m your nephew, auntie, we’ve been over this,” Galo said through grit teeth, smile significantly more forced now. This is why no one likes you, Galo thought.

“That’s why I’m leaving you all of my estate, darling,” Auntie Bethanie continued like she hadn’t heard him. Galo blinked twice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Galo asked nicely, sticking his pinkie finger in his right ear as though to clear it out. “You’re…”

“I have my lawyer coming to the hospital,” Auntie Bethany said, “Go get me a pair of socks. They keep it so damn freezing in here.”

Galo rose and went to the cabinet, pulling out the soft yellow cloth and helping the socks onto her feet.

“I had planned to split my estate between everyone who showed up, but you’re the only one! So you get the jackpot, you’re welcome!” she said, well, nearly-shouted, as Galo tugged the socks on over the socks she was already wearing, struggling with the tightness. He was strong; daily visits to the gym had his arms thickly muscled, his chest broad, but he wasn’t exactly trying to break his elderly aunt’s foot here, so he couldn’t just shove.

“Thank you, Auntie Bethany,” he said, trying to sound actually grateful and not just tiredly patient. So this was her newest passive-aggressive ploy. After Galo told the rest of the family there was money involved, the others would show up with their plastic smiles and loud voices and then she would get to gripe at how they were only in it for the money, but change the will up anyway to keep them visiting. She liked to play “games” like that. Galo tried very, very hard not to sigh. 

It’d probably keep up after the hospital stay, too, Galo mused as he sat back down in the chair. People showing up to her home with flowers and wine and “earnest” attempts to make sure she was recovering just fine. Honestly, who knew how long she could drag this out? Her poor lawyer. He hoped she was at least paying them well.

The lawyer did, in fact, arrive, and Galo quietly apologized each time his aunt criticized or scolded the poor man.

“You’re uh, gonna need to use my legal name,” Galo said, handing him his driver’s license. “Not the uh, childhood nickname she keeps calling me.”

The lawyer gave him a sympathetic pat, and it was hours after Galo had planned that he finally managed to get out from under his aunt’s endless conversation and go home already. He sighed, dropping his coat on the floor of his small apartment’s entryway. For all that he was competent, intelligent, and good with organizational skills and the like; Galo had not been particularly successful in his life. He was good with people and good with life skills, he just. 

Bluh!

Bluh bluh bluh! Now was not the time for a pity party, or else he’d turn into his aunt. He played an hour of his most recent video game, an open-world with a semi-voluntary plot, before turning in for the night. He should think about investing in a rabbit or something. He could eek out the money, and his apartment got awfully lonely, with just him, a computer, and a potted plant.

In the morning, he knew he should email his family and let them know Auntie Bethany wanted visitors, and she was messing around with her will. He should. A good son, nephew, brother, and cousin would. But then his dad would call him, asking for specifics (it never mattered how many specifics Galo put in the email. His dad would always call and ask for more), and that would mean talking to his dad and he really, really wasn’t ready for that, at the moment. Or at all. He could do it later. It wasn’t like Auntie Bethany was actually dying, after all, she was just up to her hysterics again. And god, if Galo’s sister or brother decided they wanted more than just an email… if they decided to “pop in” after visiting their aunt and gloat to Galo about how now it was their names on the will…

Oh and don’t even get Galo started on what Uncle Mike would do. He was a bigger attention whore than Auntie Bethany.

So he just… didn’t write. Didn’t call. Nothing that big was happening, they could afford to wait a few days before feeding into Auntie Bethany’s weird games. She could probably use a little disappointment for the first time in her spoiled, nasty life anyway.

Galo took a deep breath and covered his face with his broad palm. He shouldn’t think like that. That was uncalled for. Auntie Bethany was a fine person, she was just rude, and loud, and inconsiderate. But she was family. He should be polite. But, still, it would be fine if she had to wait a little while for everyone to get in on her weird ploys.

So imagine Galo’s surprise when the hospital called him after work, letting him know his aunt had, unfortunately, not made it through her surgery.

--

Her mansion (and that’s really the only word that could describe it, though “castle” was more fitting, in Galo’s opinion (it had an estate garden, who has an ‘estate garden’?!?!)) was huge. Galo had made that observation before, of course, every time he’d spent the weekend as a kid and the couple of times he’d visited during a family gathering. He couldn’t really believe it was his. The castle, the pool, the garden, all of her badass furniture he’d been warned to keep off of as a kid, her hella entertainment system that he honestly couldn’t wait to hook his game consoles up to. Didn’t she also own slaves? He wasn’t certain; he tended to get as drunk as possible as fast as possible at family gatherings, in order to survive said family gatherings, but he was pretty sure she’d mentioned putting away her servants for the evenings since they were “eyesores” or some shit. And he definitely remembered her having one when he was a kid, a glass-eyed guy only about a decade older than Galo himself.

Whatever. He unlocked the front door with her keys, attached to his keychain now, and took in the familiar foyer. He should go upstairs and check if her turquoise guest room was the same as when he was younger. It had an en suite bathroom with a bath the size of a hot tub, and it could definitely serve as his new master bedroom. Auntie Bethany’s had been the size of a ballroom, and he really didn’t need all that space (or to sleep in the same bed his dead aunt had slept in, guh).

“Mistress, w--” a thin woman with pale hair and over-wide eyes entered swiftly, then flinched back, grinding to a halt when she saw Galo.

“S-Sir, I’m sorry sir, but our mistress is out at the moment. You will have to visit her at a later time.”

“Oh, uh, I’m, not a home invader,” Galo assured, setting his little potted plant down near the antique vase his aunt had boasted about so frequently. The poor lady was trembling visibly, though he had to give her credit for not screaming and calling the police upon seeing a stranger enter her home. He probably should’ve called out and introduced himself when he let himself in; he’d just been thinking about how Auntie Bethany had kept slaves. “My aunt had a relapse, recently, and was admitted to the hospital yesterday. Uh, her surgery didn’t go so well,” Galo said, rubbing at the back of his neck. He needed to shave down his undercut, he thought rather inanely. “She didn’t make it. I uh, I’m sorta the sole inheritor of her estate? For the time being; at the funeral I’m sure we’ll get into plenty of arguments,” he said with a forced chuckle. 

“My name’s Galo,” he greeted, extending his hand to the woman.

He was a little taken aback when she genuflected and kissed his palm, dropping fluidly and with unexpected grace. “Oh, uh, okay,” he said, cupping her face and stroking a thumb over her cheekbone. Except, whoops, that was the wrong thing to do, he realized, since her face contorted and her whole body locked up.

“Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,” Galo said, pulling his hand away immediately. She went down on both knees and pressed her forehead to the floor, further confusing Galo, her movements still fluid as silk.

“I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly.”

“No, no,” Galo rushed to reassure, his words making her flinch. “You’re good, you’re fine, it’s alright,” he tried, and that went over a little better. 

“I apologize if I have angered you, Master.”

“You--didn’t. I’m just, surprised is all.” He bent down and touched his fingers very lightly against the back of her hand, and he noted that she flinched again. Okay. Probably a trauma response. His aunt had likely picked her up from somewhere bad, but that was alright. He had significantly more emotional intelligence than Auntie Bethany; he was better suited to help this kind of person than she was. Would have been.

“Will you tell me your name?” Galo asked, voice intentionally calm and reassuring.

“...” He watched her swallow, his brows furrowing. Did she… not know her own name? “Whatever pleases Master best,” she eventually answered.

“Oh,” Galo said, voice soft and pitying. “No, that’s alright. You can tell me what you’d like to be called.”

“I--wouldn’t, be presumptuous, Master, and put words in your mouth.” Man, she was shaking like a leaf. He would definitely be stuttering, if he was that scared.

But a direct approach clearly wasn’t going to work, here, he couldn’t just do it over and over again and expect different results. He’d come at this from a different angle.

“You’re so obedient,” he praised, stroking a finger down her fingers and along the back of her hand, light as a feather. “You’re very good, you were trained to answer just like that, weren’t you?”

“Yes Master,” she said, sounding relieved. Good. 

“But right now, what I’m asking for is your name. If you don’t like the one Auntie Bethany called you, that’s fine, you can pick something else, but I’m not going to think of one for you, okay? I need you to do that, now,” Galo said patiently, feeling a little silly for talking to a grown adult in the same tone he might take with a crying child, but, well. Trauma response.

“Nyla, Master.”

“Good girl, Nyla.” He heard her breath of relief, and tapped the backs of his knuckles against her hand. “Stand up for me?” he asked, slipping his hands underneath her palms. He rose, and she stood with him, again with that eerie grace, pretty much none of her weight against his hands, although he had intended to help her up. 

“So, is there anyone else here I should meet?” Galo asked, smiling patiently at Nyla who did not meet his eyes at all. “That other guy. Gr… G-something.”

“Greyson, if it pleases you Master.”

“That’s it! He still around?”

“Yes Master. I can fetch the others for you, Master, and bring them to wherever you’d prefer to inspect us.”

“Uh,” Galo blinked twice. Okay. Nyla was clearly going to require a lot of delicacy, and while he was definitely equipped to do that, he wasn’t fast. “Sure, how about you get the others in the--” No, not the living room, the furniture in there was all tiny and mostly just for her weird 60’s aesthetic, “--den.”

He mentally added “den” onto his brand new list of things that made Nyla lock up. He should probably turn it into a physical list, at some point, since he was going to live with her now, and it was important to make note of things like this.

But the damage was done, and maybe this would be a good way to show her his aunt’s den wasn’t like… whatever it was, that she’d experienced before here.

His den. It wasn’t his aunt’s anymore. Auntie Bethany was dead.

It was a weird feeling, he thought to himself as he grabbed his potted plant and went upstairs to the guest bedroom that was, in fact, still just as cool as he remembered it. He set it on the windowsill of his house. It was a weird feeling, a really weird feeling, that someone he’d known all his life was suddenly… gone.

He didn’t miss her. He didn’t like her, and they certainly hadn’t been close. He wasn’t mourning her. But. Hm. His grandparents had all died before he could remember them, so he hadn’t really had a death in the family before. It was strange and almost-melancholy, thinking that his aunt would never again walk through this place. Would never hassle him about his hair at family gatherings ever again, or complain about the TV being too quiet, or eat cantelope with her mouth open.

He shook himself. He had other people to say hello to and introduce himself to. He gave his cheeks two smart pats and left the room, mentally plotting where he would put his own personal effects. And ugh, he had to get rid of that weird hall painting. Actually, why not just do that now; he was there and it was large, but if he gripped under the frame on top he could sorta-shoulder-carry it down the stairs. The weight wasn’t much of an issue. He was a particularly buff stud, after all.

“Oh, there’s more of you than I expected,” he mentioned offhand, reaching the den. Five slaves stood at strict attention, ignoring the human-sized furniture he’d intended them all to sit on, including a girl who couldn’t possibly be older than twenty. He stared at her, a muted horror not quite breaking past the shock. She was absolutely covered in bruises. Some were purple, some yellowing, some bright red and fresh, hardly older than two or possibly three days.

“Oh god,” he breathed, very, very deliberately reminding himself to move slowly as he approached her. Poor thing! Had she fallen? The bruises differed in age too much for that. He reached out a hand to her, slowly, well within her field of vision, but she still flinched.

“Master!” Nyla interrupted before he could touch. “That one is Lilah, she’s the gardener for the estate.”

A little thing like her? The whole estate? Using the machinery needed to keep up with a yard this big, no wonder she was covered in injuries! She was way too small to be handling stuff that could hurt her like this!

“Nice to meet you, Lilah,” Galo said gently, extending his hand again, just as slow and careful as the first time. Lilah sank to one knee, almost as fluid as Nyla, and kissed his palm, which. Alright! Cool! Sure! Maybe Auntie Bethany had gotten Nyla and Lilah together? 

Galo gave her a single, quick pat on her head, not wanting a repeat of whatever distress he’d caused Nyla in the foyer. Lilah was tan and freckled, with sunbleached brown hair, and wow, yikes, she was so small. Galo swallowed and turned to the next person in the lineup.

“Greyson,” Galo greeted with a smile. He looked a lot like he had when Galo was younger, just sorta gaunt now. Reddish-brown hair that was only just starting to sprout a handful of gray hairs, tall and skinny with knobby hands. “Remember me?”

“I do, Master Galo,” Greyson said with a bow, hand raised to his chest, and Galo chuckled.

“Good to see you again, dude. It’s been years,” Galo said, leaving his hands in his pockets. He’d already met this guy, however long ago that it might have been.

“It has, Master, I am delighted to see you again,” Greyson said, monotone and still bowing, but Galo was inclined to believe him. Greyson had always been like this, as near as he remembered.

“Look a little different than last time, huh?” Galo asked with a proud grin. Greyson lifted his head and quirked a very, very small smile of his own.

“I believe you’ve put some weight on, Master.”

Galo made note of how everyone else in the room tensed up at Greyson’s words, but he also laughed. “You bet I have,” Galo bragged, flexing an impressive bicep, before taking a mental red sharpie and writing DON’T DO THAT around the action in big letters. Lilah looked like she might cry.

He’d have to catch up with Greyson later. Or, well, get to know the guy? He hadn’t had much interest in the man when he was a kid, more preoccupied with the pool and old movie collection. He turned to the next person, a man closer to his own age.

“What’s your name?” Galo asked, calm, friendly smile that he used during work on his face.

“Evan, if it please you.” Evan had fluffy dark hair pulled back in a ponytail and strong, handsome features. 

God, everyone here was really formal. Greyson, he got. Again, the man had always been like that, but man. They sounded like they all came out of those weird books Auntie Bethany was always reading.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Evan,” Galo said, doing a little wordplay, and Evan lowered his eyes deferentially. Galo lifted his hand to maybe clap him on the shoulder or rub at his own hair or something, but Evan knelt mid-motion and kissed Galo’s hand and okay! Maybe his aunt had been the one with the hand-kissing-thing after all. That was weird as hell to think about, and Galo was gonna try not to.

“This is Sasha, Master,” Nyla stated when Galo turned to the last person in the room, a woman with thick, curly, dark hair and wide blue eyes. She was pale as a ghost. “If you will allow it, she does not speak very well, and I am capable of speaking for her, Master.”

“Okay, sure,” Galo said, not going to push too hard for information on that. And he wasn’t, like, gonna tell them no, either. If this was what made them comfortable, then alright, he could deal with that. “Nice to meet you, Sasha, you don’t need to kiss my hand.”

Sasha nodded tensely, and ugh, maybe he should have let her? Now she was the odd one out. Well, Greyson hadn’t either, so…

Nope, don’t overthink it. Galo could tell there was going to be plenty for him to overthink, moving forward, and he needed to get into the habit of cutting that in the bud right now.

“Alright, so, nice to meet you all,” he already said that. “I’m new, and I’m gonna be honest, the fanciest thing I’ve ever owned is my computer rig, so I’m probably gonna make a couple mistakes in the whole… running an estate, thing, at first. You’re all allowed and encouraged to make suggestions or tell me if I’m doing something stupid on accident, okay?”

It didn’t look like that was okay at all, but Nyla nodded with a “Yes Master” anyway so eh, Galo would take it.

What should he say now? Telling them they were dismissed would make him feel like a hoity toity jackass, but it also felt kind of lame to just… leave it at that. “I’m also a little slow,” he warned, “so please be patient with me. Sometimes I need an extra couple of seconds to think things through.”

“Understood, Master,” Nyla answered again, Evan swallowing nervously at Galo’s words. Yeah, he was definitely going to have to make physical lists of weird observations. Everyone here looked like they had trauma they were processing. Yikes. His aunt was hardly a philanthropist; why would she take in this many skittish people?

His stomach ended up saving him from further floundering, gurgling loudly. Lunch had been so long ago...

“Master, may we prepare dinner for you?” Nyla asked, swaning down to her knees and bowing her head low. 

“Yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m allergic to mushrooms so nothing with those, please.”

“Yes, Master. Is there anything you’d prefer tonight?”

Hm. They seemed to like direction, and giving them a solid lead would probably be kinder than forcing them to think for themselves and worry about what he did or didn’t like. But at the same time, he had no idea what his aunt kept stocked.

“How about pasta with white sauce?” he suggested. Open ended, basic ingredients that they were pretty much guaranteed to have, and easy to make. And relatively quick; he was hungry.

“As you wish, Master.”

“Cool. I’m gonna start going through my aunt’s stuff. Lemme know when it’s ready.”

Galo left the den with a “Yes Master” chasing his heels, and rubbed at the back of his neck. Goddamn, these people were not having a great time. But that was okay. Galo was confident he could help.

Next

[gunnerpalace]

(These asks were reordered from bottom-to-top to top-to-bottom for clarity.)

Alright, so the first thing I want to say in response to this is actually best summarized in the form of a song:

You are somebody that I don't know But you're takin' shots at me like it's Patrón And I'm just like, damn, it's 7 AM Say it in the street, that's a knock-out But you say it in a Tweet, that's a cop-out And I'm just like, "Hey, are you okay?"

And I ain't tryna mess with your self-expression But I've learned a lesson that stressin' and obsessin' 'bout somebody else is no fun And snakes and stones never broke my bones

So oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh You need to calm down, you're being too loud And I'm just like oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh (oh) You need to just stop Like can you just not step on my gown? You need to calm down

I would like you to seriously reread what you’ve written here (and copy-and-pasted to others) and tell me that it doesn’t come across as more than a little obsessive and psychotic. "This may seem like hate, but it's not," you said anonymously, before going on a rant to strangers on the internet whom you had nominated as the representatives of "you guys." Sure, okay, Heather.

Well, regardless, let’s go through this. First, you don't understand 685/686. I've been over this before several times, but I will go over this one final time, as simply as I can. That said, I can't guarantee that you will understand it when I do. I was unable to successfully tutor 1st graders how to do addition because my perspective was, "Either you understand it or you don't," and I don't have the background in math to make such a simple concept exciting. The same might be true of this, because there is no way to critically analyze these chapters more succinctly than this, and so you still might not get it.

The point of 685/686, thematically, is that absolutely no one got what they wanted.

Renji wanted to surpass Byakuya. He remains Byakuya's Lieutenant and has to settle for being under his sister (figuratively and probably literally too) who now also outranks him as a Captain.

Rukia wanted to reform Soul Society into a more humane institution that protects all souls. It is the same as it ever was, and if anything has doubled down on its practices by rebuilding the Soukyoku (on which it tried to kill her) a hundred times larger, and she is one of its main wardens.

Uryuu wanted anything but to be a doctor, ever since he watched his mom being autopsied by his dad. He is now a doctor, and all alone at that.

Chad promised his grandfather to never hurt people with his fists. He is now a boxer, doing exactly that for money.

Orihime wanted to go out and have several different exciting careers. She is instead a stay-at-home mom.

Ichigo wanted to save a "mountain full" of people, be Superman, leave Karakura, and be a Shinigami. He instead appears to run Isshin's clinic now.

So, yes, you are correct: Kubo chose that Ichigo wind up with Orihime. It is exceedingly clear, from the context, that this is absolutely not a good thing.

That point is further reemphasized by Yhwach’s threat to come kill Ichigo and everyone else when they are at their happiest. And when does he reappear?

When Ichigo saw Rukia again.

Not when Ichigo asked Orihime out. Not when they started dating, officially or unofficially. Not when they were married. Not when she gave birth to his son. Not when his son said his first words.

Not when anything happened with Orihime or Kazui, but when he saw Rukia again.

That is your “Kubo-sensei” telling you directly that the happiest moment in Ichigo’s life was just simply seeing Rukia again, and not anything involving Orihime in any capacity whatsoever.

All of that should tell you that Ichigo and Orihime’s relationship is not exactly the stuff legends are made out of, because them winding up together is explicitly portrayed as a downer ending. A bad ending. 

If you cared at all about the characters—if you cared at all about their desires, or their happiness—or if you cared at all that IchiHime was presented as even merely good, let alone destined or fated or whatever else, then you would be offended by this ending too. 

Because the ending is “Kubo-sensei” straight-up unequivocally telling you that IchiHime is bad and tragic. It is something that one must demonstrate “courage” in the face of. It requires stoicism. It is a bad ending, but that’s life. That’s what the ending means.

He did you dirty too. You just don’t want to see it, because you are so obsessed with the concept of “winning.” Well, this was mutually-assured destruction: everyone lost. Especially you.

Moving on: no, Kubo doesn’t really get attention or money from us. I’m not really sure where this idea comes from.

I’m not an expert on Japanese intellectual property rights and licensing, but I know enough about them in general to know that very little if any money goes to Kubo personally from ongoing Bleach merchandise sales. For example, KLab more than likely has a contract with Shueisha (representing Kubo, hence why they’re put together on BBS’s title card), TV Tokyo, Dentsu, and Pierrot, wherein they pay those entities a fixed amount to license Bleach per year or per contractual term. It’s not like Kubo is making money off of every orb purchase or every figurine sold or something. These things don’t work like that.

As for attention, he’s still hiding from social media (for reasons of his own, unrelated to the fandom), and the people who give him attention are... you. People like you. “True Bleach fans” who can’t stop treating all his shit like it’s solid gold. We have made it fairly clear we don’t need him or care what he thinks.

Regarding BBS, maybe you haven’t noticed, but the majority of the imagery they use is IchiRuki-focused. The last title screen was IchiRuki. The Guild button is IchiRuki. The Events button is IchiRuki. The Chronicle Quest button is IchiRuki. Here, I’ve helpfully highlighted this for you:

While they do occasionally toss IH a bone, the last January event also ended on an IR note despite the ridiculous crowing about it being IH. While I’m at it, even the current supposedly “IH” title screen is anything but.

It doesn’t take Michelangelo or Da Vinci to figure out the composition here is not terribly suggestive. While Rukia is indeed off to one side, the fact Uryuu, Zangetsu, and the title card are between Ichigo and Orihime (and they’re looking in different directions) makes it pretty evident that they’re not being visually associated together. It is at best a “general” title screen. Uryuu is showing more visual interest in Ichigo than Orihime is.

I’ll come back to “the anime” in a minute. Let’s talk about their “tag-team move.” Do you mean the one that ended like this?

This one that didn’t work whatsoever?

This one where Ichigo wasn’t concerned at all that Orihime might be dead or dying as she lay there on the ground?

This one where he absolutely gave into despair?

How romantic. Truly, what an excellent battle-couple they make. Their combat effectiveness and synergy is just astounding. I for one would love to see it animated.

(Let’s not forget that later, Orihime can’t repair Zangetsu without some nonsense shenanigans from Tsukishima either. Just like how her healing abilities are useless against any sufficiently strong residual reiatsu. Ah, but that would require reading the manga closely...)

Finally, on to the idea of the anime returning. Here’s the thing: news about a trailer also doesn’t really mean anything. Sure, it could be TYBW. Or it could be The Honey Dish Rhapsody. Or it could be a thousand other things. I neither know, nor particularly care, what it actually is, on top of my explanations as to why animating TYBW would be a dumb business decision.

Here’s why: even if it is a TYBW anime, it will have to be an adaptation of TYBW. They will still have to follow the plot of TYBW. And TYBW was a pile of shit. It wasn’t just a pile of shit for IR, it was a pile of shit in general, and a pile of shit for IH in particular.

Perhaps you don’t recall that Orihime spends most of the arc off-panel, having been ditched in Hueco Mundo for most of it (chapters 500–586)?

Oh, but just think, you wouldn’t just get to see the Ichigo-Orihime “tag team” attack totally and utterly failing! You’d also get delights like:

Orihime and Chad utterly failing to believe in Ichigo! (Just like in the Xcution arc where it was demonstrated that Byakuya was a truer friend to Ichigo than either of them!)

Orihime being reduced to a pair of tits, each bigger than her own head!

Ichigo totally ignoring Orihime!

And who can forget the delight of Orihime selling out her dignity to dress slutty at Kisuke’s suggestion to try and get Ichigo’s attention, only for it to not work at all?

Yes, truly, TYBW would be a fantastic arc for IH that would surely win over the populace and convince everyone of the chemistry between these two characters!

Except it wouldn’t. Because they have no chemistry. And they didn’t. See, what’s really funny is that not only did TYBW not give you anything, but it was just following up on the Xcution arc not giving you anything.

Because ORIHIME VISION was played for laughs, just like say, Shuhei constantly is.

Because despite Chad and Orihime being about as important to Ichigo, he couldn’t even bother to say bye. 

Because he just didn’t have time to deal with her bullshit.

I could go on, but this post is already long enough.

You see, you’re real keen to dismiss "all the scene or poem shit or parallel or the hell else thing," but the truth is, that’s all there is to a manga. It is panels of art and text on a page. The rest is just in your head. And it is from those panels of art and text that animated scenes and spoken dialogue would be created. And the funny thing is... there are no IH moments in these arcs. They simply don’t exist.

So really, what you’re hoping and praying for is not just for TYBW to be adapted. Given your evident thirst, I doubt that the perhaps 5–10 minute epilogue of 685/686 at the end of 4–5 seasons would be enough for you. You’d need the animation team to decide to sprinkle in a whole lot of IH filler along the way too.

That didn’t work out so hot for the Xcution arc. How did that one end again? Oh, that’s right: they made up their own (better) ending for it. Are you really willing to bet your money on a TYBW anime going out of its way for IH, if you even get it? Or would you really be satisfied with those 5–10 minutes? Are you really so sure you’d even still get them?

Ultimately, I don’t care. You’re blocked. But, I will say this: in a way I almost kind of pity you. It seems really sad being a militant anonymous IH, desperately and eternally craving outside validation. You have so very little to cling to. It must be hard.

Good luck with that, Heather.

[violetsystems]

#personal

The holidays are quiet if not a little more restful than usual.  I facetime’d my dad and his wife and talked to my mom on the phone.  Since I left my job way back in July I haven’t had much video contact with anybody.  Everybody is too busy baking banana bread on YouTube I guess to check in.  The final days of my employment had devolved into a virtual SCRUM twice a day led by myself on camera.  It was exhausting at times to lead but kept people focused.  That is when they bothered to show up.  One of my employees was off making music with my boss half the time I was trying to lead those discussions.  I’m beginning to sense a theme.  People saying they are there but not really.  Maybe the mic is muted.  Maybe you can’t see behind the screen.  All I know is the follow through lately with people is missing entirely.  I spent a good hour the last two days trying to decouple a credit card from my old job’s contact info.  I’m locked out of both the phone number and the email attached to the account.  I got the run around trying to provide a US passport to confirm my identity.  It was good enough to enter China alone.  The first call that ID was sufficient.  They had said they sent an email to follow through with the process to two different emails I provided.  The email never came most likely because neither had been tied to the account previously.  I called back on Christmas eve and suddenly the passport wasn’t good enough.  Neither was an expired driver’s license.  The woman actually asked me why I hadn’t renewed my driver’s license.  I told the truth.  My ex girlfriend stole my car.  That didn’t really help the situation.  I sent a passport photo to unlock my facebook but they never followed through.   I had an easier time unlocking my Fortnite account with it although that took a full week.  I ended having to call the police on Christmas eve to explore filing a report for fraud and identity theft.  The police officer on the phone pretty much gaslighted me at the end of the questioning.  “Nothing criminal.” he stated plainly.  I didn’t get mad.  I didn’t even complain.  I simply said Happy Holidays and hung up.  Much like I’ve hung up on the last twenty years of my life at this point.  Nobody seems to want to answer the video call.  The opening introduction if they did would be something like “What exactly have you done with my life?”  Maybe they’re afraid to confront the truth.  The media, the government, and even the police seem to not want to believe evidence that contradicts their narrative.  I guess you could throw up your hands and revolt.  But the holidays have been peaceful and quiet enough to simply roll my eyes and move on.  I’ve had years of failures to connect.  COVID has taught me a lot of things.  I heard the mantra in all the mandatory corporate webinars.  This pandemic has brought to light structural problems we were never aware of before.  Sexual harassment in the workplace.  Check.  Organizational corruption.  Check.  The fact everybody is full of bullshit and will just mute the mic and pretend it never happened.  Check.  People feel invincible behind a screen and think they know it all.  Check.  Now that we’re aware.  What do we do?  How do we move on with our life now that we have all this space?  How do I even care about participating in a broken process when I have no debt and fiscal maturity?  How can I go back to being the old me when I’ve been completely erased and conveniently forgot about?  Why would I even bother?  

Mostly I take the time with this process to make sure my identity is completely secure.  Which is why it’s not really fun to be locked out of twenty years of your own information in the form of an email account and forgotten about for six months.  But this is just the structural reality come to light.  Much like the rest of America is waking up to the reality of what greed really does to people.  That was my Christmas present this year aside from the coffee that never came and that Cyberpunk game that I don’t really have the time or the subpar computer setup to criticize.  I’m guilty of tricking myself into thinking people care about me.  I have statistical data from the last six months that proves otherwise.  I also have financial data that points to whatever hustle I have been hustling during that time has paid off and will continue to.  But I don’t really have an answer to anything.  I’m in the worst kind of limbo.  I don’t get the sense these days that I should even remotely worry until July.  Which is kind of like saying fuck you to the world for the next six months.  I spent the last six waking up from a nightmare.  The only times I look back is to clean up the mess.  And a Christmas Eve call to the police is kind of messy.  But the result is more of the same for me.  An extravagant “I told you so.”  I’ve been telling myself for awhile now a lot of things.  Some of them were kind of unbelievable.  Now those very dreams are all I really take comfort in.  The limbo I’m in is more pointed to the light at the end of the tunnel than the void.  But I can’t say the same for everybody else.  I work for myself for the time being.  It looks really nice on paper.  I can even pay myself if it fits into my organization’s financial outlook.  But none of this matters when you or your struggles don’t even exist to people other than to mock or judge it.  All the work we do to survive.  All the work we do to create art and to be beautiful in the face of chaos.  All of that is negated by a loud mouthed jerk who can bark you back into submission.  A mob of dumb ass fraudsters that talk over and mute any opposition without any warrant or merit.  The press follows this mentality pretty clearly.  Everybody has a hot take and a theory.   But nobody wants to sit down and listen to the culmination of lies spread about people and situations.  Everyone is too emotionally interested in sharing their recipe for banana bread to an invisible audience.  I guess I could be guilty of that too.  Except that I share actual human emotion and care with a community of people who pay attention week to week.  For a person like myself who has no real need to worry about money for the foreseeable future what’s the value of care and attention?  A lot.  I don’t feed myself with vapor or fake sentiments.  I take it all at base level as real as it gets.  You can’t build a future on speculation.  You can technically if you are in the stock market.  But risk is risk.  And money is money.  No one can be me at the end of the day.  Sometimes I can’t even prove I’m myself.  My mom reminded me I had to provide ten pieces of documentation to renew my passport ten years ago.  The reasoning was simple.  The government did not believe I existed.  No bullshit.  A decade later nothing really has changed.  I’ve been to Shanghai by myself and eaten McDonald’s.  I read all these Republicans talk about how you put your identity at risk just setting foot in that country.  

And yet when does the rhetoric and brainwashing fall flat on it’s face?  When you can’t pass economic stimulus to not only save your own people but the fragile stock market all this bullshit is built upon.  I could keep telling you I told you so.  Or I could save my own ass.  And largely I did without really owing much to this country whatsoever except taxes in Q1.  Taxes billionaires don’t have to pay because they offer us so much relevant employment and benefits that fit on their bottom line.  The real truth is that America would rather not face the truth.  It hasn’t for years.  It’s built on this kind of thing.  It always has been.  And the world gets bigger and the excuses get worse.  And so what does anyone expect a person like me to do after you openly admit that there’s nothing criminal going on here.  How does that sound when you’ve been treated openly like a criminal in so many unsettling ways that you just don’t want to participate in society anymore?  Not that anyone really asks me to participate.  They’re too busy signaling or whispering secret messages.  Is it suggestion or valid communication?  I’m the one that has to shift through it all and detangle the mess from what is real and what is some sort of mass hallucination.  An alternate reality hunger game that the rich have been playing for years without any punishment or oversight.  When you get caught up in the crossfire they expect you to know the drill.  Keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you.  None of this is good for me.  You could argue it made me the beast that I am.  But I am the one who had to actively make that choice to adapt and survive.  But I’m not like any normal person these days.  I refuse to admit it anymore.  They say the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.  I have a problem.  One that it seems I cannot fix.  And if you isolate and quarantine yourself from an entire twenty years of nostalgia what is left?  Where are the texts of merry xmas from yesteryear.  Probably pinging my old work number.  I can’t access my facebook.  Maybe that’s for the best.  I can’t shut down lines of credit until I renew my state ID.  I could jump on a plane and visit Shanghai Disney quicker than I could prove I’m alive to the US government.  And when does the constant gaslighting break down?  When do we realize that people gaslight to cover up an elaborate lie that has gotten out of control.  That we are not all in this together.  Not by a longshot.  That the problem of connectedness is right there in front of our faces.  We’re exhausted propping up entire infrastructures that keep a bloated empire alive.  Family fortunes built on opioids and war strewn out across the landscape in trusts and elaborate tax schemes.  Oligarchs that have generational wealth that buy our politicians and scam people into debt and forced labor.  This is America.  This is the systemic problem the pandemic brought to light.  This shit was built this way.  And like any fort constructed with shaky foundations, good luck hiding from the storm in that shit.  At least I can still access my Epic account.  What am I going to do for the next six months?  Complain about something I can’t fix because everybody wants to consider me part of the problem?  I don’t know what to do anymore except move forward and lead by example.  There’s enough quality people who follow to keep me warm with those thoughts through the holidays alone.  I won’t be drunk on a zoom call.  I’ll be in bed watching Wonder Woman or something.  When everyone you worshipped comes out of this looking fake, tired and exhausted you’ll know where to find me.  Unlocking more accounts tied to an identity that doesn’t exist anymore.  Nothing criminal.  Hopefully people will stop treating me like one eventually.  <3 Tim

[miracleboiz]

Making a Home Ch. 4

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

“Lunch is ready, Akagi stop bullying the boys.” Shinsuke called, more than well aware that Akagi was the one suffering as he accidentally blew up his own building on minecraft. The twins burst into giggles at Akagi’s loud complaint, eagerly putting down the controllers to run and pull the cushions out.

“Wow, you already got your own little helpers, that’s adorable.” Akagi cooed, finally moving from the couch to Shinsuke’s side only to find himself with his hands full of food.

“Go set the table… little helper.” Shinsuke said, trying not to snicker as Akagi groaned and made his way towards the dining room. Shinsuke shifted to watch the boys run back for the last cushion, dragging it together and nearly taking each other out in their haste to set it up for Akagi.

Lunch was a quieter affair, Shinsuke listening patiently as Osamu and Atsumu tried to explain the process of hitting things to make smaller blocks to hit other things with. He didn’t quite understand it, but the concept of building things seemed easy enough for Shinsuke to keep them engaged.

“And then the green things go BOOM.” Osamu explained as he finished cleaning up the rest of his plate, crumbs slipping from his cheek. “And Akagi-san’s glass house broke in so many pieces… But it was okay because then he made it even bigger and better! With dogs!”

“There were so many dogs.” Atsumu agreed, taking his brother's plate and his and piling them together. “Akagi-san said they have cats too, I hope so, cats are really pretty. Can we play after we get back?”

“Get back?” Akagi asked, frowning as he looked at Shinsuke but Atsumu answered anyway.

“We don’t have any clothes except these ones, Kita-san said we needed to go get some more…especially Osamu, he’s so stinky.” Atsumu’s nose scrunched up dramatically even as Osamu gasped and shoved him.

“You’re stinky! You don’t even like baths, you’re gross.” Osamu huffed, foot shifted to kick his brother.

Shinsuke opened his mouth to tell him to knock it off when Atsumu kicked back, the two devolving into jabbing each other with their heels. He sighed, looking at Akagi for assistance. After all, he didn’t want them to think they couldn’t ever wrestle or squabble but he didn’t want them to accidentally hurt each other either.

“They’re just teasing each other, they’re not angry, just make sure it doesn’t go too far.” Akagi laughed softly at Shinsuke’s worry, reaching over with a napkin to gently clean Osamu’s face.

Two sets of eyes stared at the hand with fascination as Akagi gently brushed off the crumbs. Akagi smiled at both of them, an oversized toothy grin that put both of the boys at ease a moment later.

“So, does that mean that we’re not having our traditional hotpot this year then?” Akagi asked Shinsuke as he sat back in his seat, trying to wipe Shinsuke’s face too only to get swatted.

“That depends on Atsumu and Osamu, they’re the ones who have to deal with you for even longer.” Shinsuke said, smacking the hand away that rose to touch his face again. He turned to the boys, humming at their obvious curiosity as he reached for his glass.

“Once a year our old group, meaning myself, Akagi, Ojiro Aran and Oomimi Ren, the man who called me to pick you up, get together on the first snowfall to make hotpot and see each other after a long year. But you’re part of the group too now, so if you are tired or don’t want to meet someone else then we don’t have too.” Shinsuke explained softly, hiding a smile behind his drink as the boys turned to each other.

They whispered quietly for a few minutes between themselves, eyes glancing between the two and each other. Finally Atsumu turned and patted the table with his hands to get their attention.

“We like Akagi-san! And food is really good! Can we do it Kita-san?” Atsumu chirped, eyes bright with hope and Shinsuke knew that even if he vehemently didn’t want to do it that one look at that would change his mind immediately.

“Of course, Atsumu…. Let’s clear up these plates and then we can head to the store and we can grab groceries for dinner while we’re out.” The words barely left Shinsuke’s mouth and Atsumu was on his feet, dutifully trudging his dishes to the sink and returning for more while Osamu started dragging the cushions away.

“Wow… If we get an army of these guys we could take over the world.” Akagi stage whispered to Shinsuke.

“Go clean up the couch.” Was all Shinsuke said in return, taking his own plate and Akagi’s to the sink. He flipped on the hot water and started to scrub as Atsumu brought the remaining plates and to him.

Atsumu hesitated for a moment, raising up and down on his toes before finally looking up at Shinsuke.

“Can I help… sir?”

Shinsuke blinked in surprise, glancing over at Akagi wrestling Osamu for the cushion and back down. Still, it took him another heartbeat to realize Atsumu was trying to branch out without his brother by his side and that he was trying to trust Shinsuke.

“Of course, Atsumu, there’s no need to call me sir. You know where the pantry is? Behind the door I have a step stool, you can bring it out here.”

Atsumu turned on his heel and made his way over, unaware of Shinsuke’s eye carefully watching him as he struggled against the tall handle. Atsumu eyed the step stool, a two step ladder that was about the height of his waist, before shrugging and wrapping his arms around it as much as he could to lift it off the ground. He grunted as he stumbled back but gained his footing before Shinsuke could move, turning and starting to waddle his way back to Shinsuke’s side.

Shinsuke had to bite back a laugh, well aware Atsumu’s feelings would be hurt, as Atsumu’s face twisted with complete seriousness. It was adorable, how serious he was taking his job of moving the step-stool. Finally he came to a stop with a clatter and he scrambled to the top to smile brightly at Shinsuke.

“You want to dry then?” Shinsuke asked, offering a drying towel when Atsumu nodded. Atsumu took it, threading his fingers over it for a moment before settling in and glaring at the sink as Shinsuke started to scrub at the dishes.

Shinsuke and Atsumu both sighed as the dishes finally lay in the cupboards, glancing at each other. Atsumu snorted, childlike glee lighting his face up as Shinsuke inclined his head at him in thanks.

He really was starting to branch out already and Shinsuke was proud despite it only being the first day. It was going to be a long journey, but Shinsuke knew they’d get where they needed to be eventually. They just had to keep fighting.

Atsumu’s smile started to fade again as he realized his brother wasn’t nearby, looking around worriedly for him. Neither of the other boys were in the immediate vicinity and panic was crawling its way to clench around Atsumu’s heart as he realized it. His eyes shot around the room before finally he turned to Shinsuke, mouth open just an inch as he tried to shove the words out.

“It’s alright Atsumu, Akagi wouldn’t hurt Osamu…. Akagi? Osamu?” Shinsuke called while holding out a hand for Atsumu to hold onto as he climbed down the stairs, a little wobbly from anxiety.

“In the bathroom captain-san!” Akagi’s voice drifted down the hall and Atsumu’s head tilted up sharply, staring Shinsuke down while quietly pleading for him to be allowed to go after them.

“Go on, go see what they’re doing.” Shinsuke said softly, watching Atsumu nod at him before he was taking off without a second thought. Shinsuke hummed, picking up the step stool with one hand and returning it to the pantry.

He made his way down the hall, listening to a voice murmur before a giggle rose up. Atsumu seemed to have calmed down with the return of his brother, that was good atleast. Though Shinsuke worried about what in the heavens Akagi could be doing.

“Since when do you have hair gel in my cupboards?” Shinsuke was forced to ask, watching Akagi splatter the stuff onto his hands before burying said hands in Osamu’s hair and fluffing it up to match his own wild style.

“Since I was here uh… Last August? Did you not notice?” Akagi said shamelessly, running his fingers through Osamu’s hair as the boy laughed in delight. He seemed to love having his hair played with and Shinsuke felt the strangest urge to pull a Takahiro-san and kiss his forehead. He shook his head to clear it, nodding his head at Atsumu when he looked up as if to ask if what they were doing was okay.

“I do not use the mirror medicine cabinet, so no I did not.” Shinsuke said simply, unable to completely squash the urge as he reached out and held out his hand to Atsumu.

Atsumu blinked like a confused cat before leaning his head forward until Shinsuke could gently stroke through it. Atsumu snorted, a blinding grin on his face as Shinsuke pet his hair. He tilted his head up, pushing the hand to the back of his head so he could show off his smile.

The line of bruises down his cheek were still an appalling hint to the abuse that he had gone through and Shinsuke had to bite back the anger that boiled in his stomach. Anger at the other man would do nothing to help the boys now and that was Shinsuke’s job. Getting the boys to where they needed to be emotionally and mentally, without the clawing terror of abandonment and abuse.

Atsumu seemed to pick up on his mood though, reaching up to put his hand over the string of bruises. His lips slipped downwards, twisting as his eyes dropped to stare at the bathroom wall instead of Shinsuke.

“It’s pretty bad looking huh?” He mumbled, trying to smile slightly at Shinsuke. “It doesn't hurt though! Really! I’ve been through worse.”

Shinsuke cradled the back of his head, stroking it gently before moving to his knees so he could look Atsumu directly in the eye. He needed Atsumu to understand what he was saying, even if he didn’t want to listen to it. It needed to be said so Atsumu and Osamu would know that Shinsuke was serious.

“Atsumu,” He started, keeping the slow motions of his hand steady, and watching Osamu pause to watch. “You hurt at all, is bad. Even if you’ve been through worse, you shouldn’t be hurting because someone was upset. If anyone ever hurts you like this, or tries to hit you anywhere else or force you into something against what you want, even if it doesn’t hurt as bad as it could, I want you to tell me okay? Nobody is ever going to hurt you again, I’m going to make sure of that.”

Atsumu’s eyes glistened with tears as he gasped quietly, turning away to rub at his eyes. When he turned back, there was a hint of that ferocity that Shinsuke had noticed the night before. It glimmered under his tears, like a feral cat terrified and crying for safety but so scared to trust anyone.

“You’re… You’re not the first one to tell me that, Kita-san. It’s okay, I can take it. When you leave the next one will just be mean and that’s okay. I know I can take it.” Atsumu said, straightening and scrubbing the tears off of his face as they fell.

“I know you can, but you don’t have to. Because I won’t let anyone hurt you. You don’t have to trust me now, that’s okay, we have time to prove it. We have all the time in the world.” Shinsuke said softly, watching Atsumu start to relax again with the steady movements in his hair. Osamu peeked over Atsumu’s shoulder, hair a ridiculous mess, and stared at Shinsuke worriedly before Atsumu nodded and pressed his head harder into Shinsuke’s hand.

“No one’s going to hurt you, either of you.” Shinsuke promised, petting his hair and letting Atsumu hide behind his bangs.

He nearly jumped out of his skin a moment later though, when Atsumu stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his neck in the tightest hug Shinsuke had ever gotten. Shinsuke relaxed as Atsumu started to pull away, gently wrapping himself around him back.

Atsumu sighed in relief, his head buried just under Shinsuke’s collarbone and Shinsuke let him pretend that he couldn’t feel the hot tears on his neck. Gently, he rubbed his back and looked at Osamu hopping from foot to foot. Shinsuke opened one of his arms and bit back a grunt as Osamu plowed into him, holding on just as tightly as his brother.

Shinsuke sighed, pressing his nose against the hardening strands of Osamu’s hair. Sugawara had been right, he was already in love with these two.

Black eyes met his over their heads as Akagi leaned against the sink with an amused expression. Apparently he wasn’t nearly as subtle as he thought he was, not that Shinsuke had particularly been trying.

“Okay, we still need to get to the store and we’re running out of time. You two know where your shoes are?” Shinsuke asked as he pulled away, waiting until they nodded in agreement. “Go put your shoes on, I’ll be there in a moment.”

He moved to his feet as the boys took each other’s hands and started to make their way to their room again. He glanced at Akagi before grabbing a towel to wipe off the hair gel that had transferred to his shirt.

“So…” Akagi started, not at all phased by Shinsuke’s half glare telling him not to push. “I don’t see why you’re fighting it, you’ve raised kids before, you absolutely love raising all your friends’ kids. Why don’t you just adopt them yourself?”

“I’ve had them for a single day Akagi. That’s not enough time to decide to intertwine the rest of our lives together.” Shinsuke said simply, ignoring the emotions bubbling under the surface of his calm facade. “Besides, I have my shop that we’re going to expand. Children stopped being a part of the plan two years ago when the last one left my care. I couldn’t give them the hope of a real family and then rip it away when they realize I’m busy a lot.”

“You work in your house, Kita. They can work with you like Shinji and Shigeru do for Castle Bakery. They’d probably love learning calligraphy or how to sew or even just playing with ribbons. Besides, they’ll be at school most of the day when you’re busiest. Everyone else manages to do just fine with their kids.”

“Everyone else has partners to assist them, I live on my own in case you hadn’t noticed in your many invasions. It’s unfair to both of them when they could go to a full family.” Shinsuke said, ignoring the bitter want that dragged at his chest. He wanted to raise the boys, wanted to watch them grow and learn, wanted to help guide them and know they were loved. He couldn’t make that commitment though… It wouldn’t be fair to them, they wouldn’t get the attention they needed and he could never put his own selfish desires over their emotional stability.

“First of all, Shinsuke,” Akagi started, looking uncharacteristically serious, “you and your workers? You are a family. You, me and ‘Mimi? We’re all family. We’re as full and as real as you can get. Second of all, if its being single that's the problem, I might know somebody who definitely would marry you if you asked.”

All at once, the mature aura dissipated as Akagi giggled and grinned ferally. Shinsuke tossed the dirty towel at him, ignoring the evil cackle.

“I see him once a year, he’s not going to marry me and I’m not even going to think about marrying him. We haven’t even been proper friends since high school, he probably thinks I’m weird now. After all, he went on to be a pro and I’m… dealing with you.” Shinsuke said, pursing his lips as he made his way out of the bathroom. He didn’t want to think about Akagi’s statement anymore than he wanted to think about keeping the boys.

He was not going to adopt them, he was only going to keep them safe until he found a permanent home. He was not going to try and see if Ara- if he was interested in him. Shinsuke had decided his future already and he wasn’t going to let anyone else change it no matter how adorable the two twins looked playing with each other’s shoes while waiting for Shinsuke and Akagi to join them.

“Are you two ready?” Shinsuke asked as he grabbed his keys and slipped into his shoes beside them. They both beamed at him, not quite the master of holding grudges yet. He glanced back at Akagi straightening up the blanket on the couch and the little Ruppel’s fox.

“Akagi? Do you want to come with?” Shinsuke called, not missing the flinch as Akagi waited to be called out on his words in the bathroom. As if he would continue that conversation here in front of the boys.

“I dunno, can I? Atsumu, Osamu?” Akagi asked instead, looking at the two who immediately nodded.

“Of course Akag… Oji-san!”  Osamu blurted, patting his head. “You know so many cool things!”

Akagi’s heart melted visibly as he patted the fox’s head and made his way over. He was shoving on his shoes as Shinsuke stepped out, one hand holding each of the boys’. Akagi scrambled after them, locking the door behind him as he stepped up beside Atsumu.

“So, there’s a shopping center around the corner. It has more things than just our little specialized street.” Shinsuke explained as they started to make their way down the street. Osamu looked up at him confused, gently squeezing Shinsuke’s hand until he got his attention.

“What’s… specialized?”

“Oh, it’s like… You see that shop over there? That’s Castle Bakery, and next to it is a tattoo shop. On the other side is a florist shop. Each shop is specific to one thing they do, like baking or flowers. Mine’s a little different because it has so many things but still the focus is weddings. Other, bigger stores, do a lot of things like the toy store might also have sports games or some stores have furniture and electronics… Video games I mean.” Shinsuke explained, watching Osamu nod along while Atsumu’s own gaze seemed to glaze over at the words. Then Atsumu shifted and stared at the bright teal and white bakery with a bright golden crown that lay over the C.

“Bakery? Like, more muffins?” Atsumu blurted, staring at the bakery with wide eyes. Akagi let out a loud laugh, grinning brightly and waving at the tall man who was sweeping the front door of the store.

“Yeah, that’s Castle Bakery. They have the best muffins, though their owner insists their profiteroles are even better.” Akagi explained. “They work with Kita, with catering for weddings so I’m sure you’re going to have a lot of their muffins and treats.”

Atsumu gasped, hand subconsciously gripping Shinsuke’s hand tighter as he bounced slightly. Shinsuke shook his head fondly when Akagi bounced back, happily chirping about the different types of pastries they carried. Osamu was currently okay with watching the streets pass so Shinsuke just kept walking until they finally made it to the corner.

The giant box store rose up across the street, gleaming brightly with easily visible toys packed high. Atsumu and Osamu were nearly vibrating as they got closer and Shinsuke let go of their hands as they made it to the doors.

They turned to him immediately, worry evident in their eyes. Shinsuke just smiled softly, ignoring Akagi’s gasp, and pet both of their heads. Osamu burst into giggles as his own hair crunched from the wax.

“Okay boys, we’re going to stop here first, then grab some clothes and then groceries okay? So we can’t get too much unless we want to walk home each trip and that’s going to take a lot of time and if we want something really good for hotpot we should get home early so it can cook while you play with your new toys okay?” Shinsuke explained, watching them nod slowly as they tried to think it over. Atsumu slowly reached over to take Osamu’s hand as he thought.

“So… how much can we spend?” Atsumu asked, frowning as he tried his best to think everything over.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see what it comes out to. Just stick close to me or Akagi and we’ll tell you if something is too expensive okay? Don’t worry about that though, let us worry about that. You and Osamu just find things you like a lot okay?” Shinsuke said.

Osamu nodded quickly and turned to drag his brother inside before realizing he didn’t ask Shinsuke if they could go. Shinsuke waved them on, walking quickly behind them and tilting his head to Akagi.

“I’ll watch Osamu, you keep an eye on Atsumu and hopefully we won’t lose them.” Shinsuke muttered and Akagi flashed a grin before-

“I lost Atsumu.”

Shinsuke sighed, turning and pointing to them still holding hands as they ducked under a low hanging stuffed animal and disappeared down an aisle.

[jawnjendes]

bonus: why is their luck in a deeply sad moment? | shawn mendes

some type of au idk man, shawn x goth ex gf

WARNING: there is talk of death and suicide in this chapter. read at your own risk.

AN: i cant squeeze this into the next big fic nor can i fit it into shawn meets bc everyone hated it so its a bonus in the gg story lmao also im starying the Next Big Fic in a few days :)

masterlist | annalise’s playlist

2026.

"Sometimes I think about the what ifs,"  Ann said, “but I like where I am. I like what I’ve made for myself.”

Shawn had to invite her over to his house a second time, because the first time left him with many questions unanswered. He couldn’t be mad at what she said, though. He was in the same boat; he liked the life he made. You know, without the crushing loss and run in with the supernatural.

“Well, I’m happy for you,” he told her, and he really meant it. “I’m glad we were able to successfully do our own things straight after breaking up.”

“Nothing like filling the void in your heart with work!” Ann replied with a giggle. She moved a strand of hair behind her ear, and that’s when Shawn noticed something.

He took her hand and noticed a tattoo on the side of her middle finger: The Triforce.

“You got inked?” he asked, impressed.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” she replied, grabbing her sleeve to roll it up.

There was a sword on her inner arm. It was varying in shades of blue, and it also had the Triforce on it. Shawn recognized it as the Master Sword from the Legend of Zelda games.

“All this is is proof that I’m a nerd,” Ann said as she rolled her sleeve back down. “I notice you have some more ink also… and that you still wear shirts half buttoned.” She pointed to his chest.

Her finger poked the exposed skin. It shouldn’t have been as tingly as it was. Shawn smiled and placed his hand over his chest.

“More than just that,” he told her. “But I can’t show you all of them.”

Maybe it was a little risky to say that. Shawn would have taken it back if Ann’s cheeks hadn’t gone a shade of pink.

“I could say the same thing…”

Shawn quickly came to learn just how many tattoos Ann had gotten over the years. A snake and tombstones on her other arm. Feather on her collarbone, roses on her shoulder. A quote reading, “...but I’m not anymore” with stars around it on her ribcage. Something on her wrist that Shawn didn’t catch because he was busy pressing his lips to her hips and taking off her pants, where he found another tattoo. “Lucky you.” He certainly felt it.

Everything about their time together was so familiar, so easy and almost home-like. Ann’s skin touching his. Her lips perfectly molding over his. The quiet, needy gasps they both released into the bedroom. It was like going back in time, and they were in Shawn’s Toronto apartment instead of his multimillion dollar condo in LA. It was soft and slow, despite Shawn pinning Ann’s arms above her head. He didn’t outgrow that particular move, and she still seemed to like it.

Shawn had never been happier to have been on a break more than now. Most one night stands in the past began and ended very quickly, because he was on tour or in between interviews or on a break for one day. This was one person that he didn’t want to leave behind. They lied down, sweaty and dazed, facing each other. It was silent, but not awkward. Everything had a nice haze around it.

That was also when Shawn finally made out what the tattoo on Ann’s wrist was. He picked his head up in confusion.

“Is… are those torches?” he asked. “Upside down? Just like mine… and are those my initials?”

It was simple line art, less intricate than his own. Torches in an X, with “SM” right below them. Shawn has been floored many times, and this was no exception.

Ann picked her head up as well. “It’s not what it looks like.”

Shawn looked down at his chest, his torches were exactly the same, sans the initials. He wanted to give Ann the benefit of the doubt, that this wasn’t some creepy fangirl thing. Some of his one night stands ended up like that, and it wasn’t exactly easy to forget.

“It’s for a friend of mine,” Ann explained, sitting up and covering her front with the blanket. She took note of the look on Shawn’s face. “Keeping someone’s light on beyond death, remember? I assume yours is for someone too.”

They were both sitting up now, and Shawn relaxed. However, he only relaxed a little bit because now it was time to get deep.

“Mine’s for Brian. He died last year.”

Ann’s face fell. “No. Brian, your best friend? Brian, the one who constantly took the piss outta me?”

He nodded. “He was… there was an accident. Flight of stairs. Instantly killed.” It was all lies, but no human would understand.

A hand went over his, squeezing. “I’m so sorry. He just, he just fell down some stairs?”

“A lot of stairs. I don’t know I guess he was running or something. There was no way to save him. People in the house heard the crash, but by the time they found him - when I found him - it was too late.” He had told this version many times, enough times to where he could almost believe it himself.

“Fuck, man. That’s… that’s fucking terrible,” Ann said sympathetically. “But I seriously can’t believe you just told me that.”

“Why?”

“Because now I have to tell you that mine is for Stella. Those are her initials.”

Stella Martinez. Now Shawn felt a little stupid… but surprised, and he was met with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He couldn’t believe it for a second, but it fully processed in his head, and his heart began to break.

“Stella from college? Stella, who was your literal opposite and also your best friend?”

Ann solemnly nodded. Then she looked down. “She… she killed herself.”

Shawn was stunned into silence, the tightness in his chest only intensifying. The entire time he knew Stella, she was always so positive and bubbly. She was the opposite of suicidal. That’s why it was such a shock… and so sad. Oh god, who was going to tell Camila?

“When did Brian go to the other side?” Ann asked after a moment.

“A year ago last month,” Shawn replied. “And Stella?”

Ann raised an eyebrow. “Two years ago last month...”

It was a strange coincidence, but still upsetting. Both Shawn and Ann lost their best friends at the same time of the year. The urge to spill everything was thick in the air. Still, neither of them said anything for a while.

Instead, Ann reached down to the floor to pick up her clothes. Shawn’s eyes were stuck on her and that was when he spotted another word on her back. Nightmare. Small font, right shoulder blade, surrounded by a cluster of skulls. Then, he realized what she was doing.

“Are you leaving?”

She looked up, bra in hand. She was quiet as she put it back on.

“No. No, I’m not going anywhere.”

And she crawled back into bed. She made the point to keep a distance from Shawn, who was still naked. He was on his side, looking at the woman before him. Only Ann could have sex with him and bring up the subject of death. That brought a new point to mind.

“How do you enjoy death?” he asked. “I think I’ve asked you this before, but after losing someone and attending their funeral, I’m having a hard time understanding your perspective.”

Ann took a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I don’t enjoy the act of dying. People die every day in horrible ways. People mourn and fall into depression because of death. That’s not something to enjoy.”

“So what’s your deal with it?”

“I’m just embracing the face that it’s inevitable. I do that for myself. I will die eventually, or tomorrow-”

Shawn made a face; he didn’t like that thought.

“It doesn’t make it any easier when someone I know goes,” Ann continued. “You’d think with all the research I’ve done it would be. The ones we love leave this mortal plane, and all they leave is their absence. And that alone is a lot to process.”

“What’s the hardest part?”

“The what if’s.”

Shawn asked because he really wanted to know more about what happened to Stella. He had to know the things that led up to the tragedy, mostly because he knew Camila would ask for details, even if they were hard to hear.

He figured he should spill his side first.

“The last thing I said to Brian was to get the hell out of my room,” he began. “We were fighting, fighting over something so fucking stupid, and I was so pissed at him. That was our last interaction. He fell down the stairs because he was trying to find me in this big huge mansion…”

Ann sat up a little bit, hand over her chest. “Here?”

“Oh no, not here. I was staying at a friend’s house in London for a work thing. Place was huge, easy to get lost in,” Shawn clarified. “Brian, Andrew, all of them were leaving back to Toronto and I didn’t want to go just yet. Part of it was because I was still pissed. Maybe if I had run into him first before he fell… If I hadn’t kicked him out of my room a few nights prior… If I was less of an asshole…”

“Maybe you would have slipped on the stairs,” Ann told him. “Maybe you guys would have had an even bigger argument later that would have ended your friendship. There’s no way to tell, and sometimes that’s what sucks the most.”

Huh. Most people tell him not to dwell on it. No wonder Ann was a shrink now.

“Losing someone is one of the hardest things we, as humans, have to face,” she said. “It’s not easy in the slightest. Besides, the grieving period takes about three to five years, so you - we - are still in the beginning stages of it. Thinking about the what ifs, what you want to change, what you wish you could say to Brian - all of that is normal.”

The two of them let those words settle for a moment. Shawn’s eyes were a little misty, and redirecting the topic was probably not going to help. But he laid his stuff out on the table.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me?”

“Your what ifs?”

Ann paused, looking around the room. “What if I had put my Master’s to use and noticed the goddamn signs?”

Shawn watched her, hoping she would at least return the eye contact.

“I’m an expert in this shit,” she said. “I have the years of school, the degrees, and the licenses for detecting things like this. I only figured it out the moment her dad called me.”

“How do you detect when someone is suicidal?”

“In her case, she was elated. When someone makes that decision, they reach a state of euphoria because they know their pain is about to end.”

“But Stella was always-”

“Believe me, I know. I hadn’t talked to her since graduating in Toronto, so I thought she hadn’t changed at all. But I would see on her social media, she just moved back to her parents’ house in Florida, and she hinted that she wasn’t happy about it.”

As if Shawn couldn’t take another blow. Come to think of it, he never heard much about Stella’s home life. He didn’t even think that it could be a negative place for her.

“I was in Jacksonville for work,” Ann continued, “so I hit her up, and we met up for lunch. We talked for about an hour, and she said that I was always a good friend and college wife and that she’ll always love me. And my stone hearted ass just said ‘cool, you don’t suck’ and that was that. A month later, she’s as blue as the pills she took.”

“Ooo…” Shawn sighed, cringing at that mental image. Sweet, warm hearted Stella cold and lifeless. Call it morbid, awful thinking, but Shawn wished Brian looked like that in death instead of the bloody mess he turned out to be.

“Yeah. And her parents had her embalmed and put in an airtight casket, but that’s a whole other rant.” Ann waved it off and lied back down.

Shawn didn’t know what else to do except lie down as well. While sharing the stories of how their friends died, he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit closer to Ann. The first time they met, it took fighting tooth and nail to get her to open up. Now, Shawn felt okay silently reached for her hand, and tenderly holding it in his.

Both of them winded up at the same awards show. Both lost their best friends. Both got the same type of tattoo to honor them. Neither of them anticipated meeting again. This couldn’t be a coincidence.

_______

goth gf taglist: @normalcyisoverrated-beyou @ilsolee @mendesromano @kitykatnumber @strangerliaa @iloveshawnieboi @someoneunimportantxx @goldenmndes @calyumthomas @shawnsunflower @shawnvvmendes @parkeraul @havethetimeeofyourlifee @chillingbythesea @wronglanemendes @softmendesss @peruvian-bae @theprivatewritings

[vroenis]

When The Best You Can Do Is Shoot A Gun

The Animal Crossing / Doom Eternal Covid19 launch coincidentally seems to be related to this discussion, even tho I’d say Doom Eternal has an excellent combat system and isn’t really relevant to what I’m going to bring up. I don’t have a problem with shooty-shooty, I have purchased, played and will continue to purchase and play plenty of video games that engage with firearm violence. There are plenty of discussions about how intelligent, consenting adults can do this without any problems and I won’t retread them here. Doom is simple game themed vaguely around demons; demons bad, player protagonist good, good player shoot bad demons - OK you got it, apply an incredible movement system into that and enjoy.

What I want to discuss involves of-course that pesky word and idea nuance, which annoys the shit out of more people these days, for its applications and misapplications - fingers-crossed I don’t fuck it up, but first I want to bring up Ubisoft and systems, so now’s as good a place as any for a stolen picture from the internet.

As far as concept art goes, that’s actually very representative of the final product in-game.

Ubisoft appear to have a long-term open-world tech development objective. I believe at some point very soon, these individual objectives will converge into one single middleware product with a mandate to producce retail licenses that combine what each of these individual franchises have been testing and achieving in isolation, those being;

Ghost Recon Wildlands and Breakpoint: 3rd person Load-On-Demand

The Division: 3rd Person Cover and interactivity

Assassin’s Creed: Environmental mapping and interactivity

Starlink: Scaling Load-On-Demand

Far Cry: First Person implementation of various combinations of above

I’ll put it another way;

Ghost Recon: Load everything

The Division: stick to everything

Assassin’s Creed: climb everything

Starlink: scale everything

Far Cry: do it in first person perspective

It looks like all of these games are running in Ubisoft in-house proprietary engines. Ghost Recon and Assassin’s Creed are running in Anvil, developed for the very first Assassin’s game and in which the Prince of Persia 2008 and Forgotten Sands also ran in. Oddly, (Rainbow Six) Seige, Steep (lol) and For Honor are also running in Anvil.

Both Division games and Starlink are running in Snowdrop and this appears to be due to The Division having come from Massive Entertainment. I’ll be honest, from the perspective of a consumer (read: punter) and someone with extremely minimal 3rd-hand development experience, The Division looks far more impressive than both the Ghost Recon and Assasin’s games, and former Massive brand and art director Rodrigo Cortes has said of the engine that it was design to “do things  better not bigger” and I think it shows. Anyway, it was still developed with Ubisoft so as I understand it, they own it. Massive is a Ubisoft subsidiary, their studio based in Sweden.

Far Cry is going to be a little different, being a little older and having its roots slightly before... what shall we call this mess... the cynical age? The microtransaciton age? Anyway. The first game used the CryEngine developed by Crytek. At some point, Ubisoft seemed to develop an offshoot of the engine called Dunia because the CryEngine was licensed and clearly lucrative, I think. I’m not entirely sure, but Dunia does appear to remain in-house and under the auspices of Ubisoft Montreal. Where am I going with all this?

Starlink was “toys to life” a-la Skylanders but way too late, combined with No Man’s Sky-lite, but the game itself other than being overstuffed with Ubisoft copy-and-paste template-quests is an excellent proof of concept.

I do need to say that in general, I don’t have any particular affinity for Ubisoft. So I am yes, absolutely fascinated with something I do think is happening as far as tech goes and now I’m writing about it in this piece, and yes you can tell I’ve played and even enjoyed some of the games they’ve produced and published, but there’s a lot not to like about many of their practices, the least of which is the overbearing sense of cynicism pervasive in many of their games.

I played Far Cry 3 long after it released and got perhaps 20% thru the campaign before giving up entirely. For starters, nothing about how it controlled felt right and I appreciate that’s purely a personal preference. Being a Battlefield player, there’s something about DICE’s sense of locomotion that is perfect to me, even tho it varies from title to title from Bad Company 2 all the way to V most recently. Other things about Far Cry bother me tho - if there’s wildlife around, it always attacks the player, guaranteed. Everything about this game seems to be designed to force the player into engagement, to provide you with materials to collect, craft or sell, but also to run you short of ammunition to either scrounge for more or have to buy it because *surprise* - it prompts you to purchase ammunition for real-world money. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Fuck off. I uninstalled the game immediately. I can deal with ridiculous AI with magical aim and irrational scripting. I can deal with absurd narrative for the sake of reading (and roasting later), but the entire package culminating in purchasing more ammunition was otherworldly, it was truly bizarre. To this day, I don’t understand what world Ubisoft inhabits that this is something that makes sense to anyone in management or marketing, and yet there it is and there are consumers that not only accept it but embrace it. No doubt there are metrics from the mobile industry that support it and dear lord the capitalist apocalypse is upon us.

What will Ubisoft do when they can merge these technologies? They definitely want to and likely already have in-house, they just need the engine to run client-side for the Consumer. You and I and Inside Gaming are all laughing it up at Stadia right now, but we’re at the wrong end of the business. For Ubisoft, they can ignore the faltering at the start, it’s the long-term they focus on. The pittance Google are losing now, even if they end-up shuttering the project will be meaningless if they end-up getting the hardware to work, even if the end-result is the hardware sitting in a box in the consumer’s home in 10 years. Sure, that’s a long loop, but the journey still doesn’t matter, only the eventual ROI.

If this piece hasn’t gotten boring for you yet, it’s about to because you’re probably excited for what Ubisoft will do with this impending technological power and development and I rally am not. What will Ubisoft do with it? Probably just more Assassin’s Creed, except you’ll be able to snap to cover and have a fully mapped country. Probably more The Division, but you’ll have a fully mapped city that you can also climb on the outside of buildings and then enter them without any loading. Probably more Far Cry but with bigger maps and more interactivity and less loading. The next generation of consumer hardware consoles from Microsoft and Sony are upon us and as much as PC enthusiasts hate to admit it, the consumer market is largely gated by the generational hardware stepping of these platforms. That may change after this era depending on how Google, Amazon and indeed Microsoft and Sony go with cloud computing, but for the moment the status-quo will remain as alternative products develop. Bear in mind with Covid19, climate change and the general sustainability and ethical standards of working and living being under growing scrutiny the world over, things are changing more each day, our technology development may change in ways we don’t expect so who even knows what’s in store for the future.

So What Do I Actually Want?

Good question. NB: before you ask, Animal Crossing isn’t my thing. I played it years ago on Gamecube. It’s cute, it’s fine. I’ve no interest in it. I’m writing this note in retrospect because I realise you may say “Just play Animal Crossing or The Sims but hopefully I can illustrate by neither of those games is what I’m after, nor do I just want to build a house in something like No Man’s Sky and fill it with crap. Let’s see if I get there... A few weeks ago I wrote about how the best thing Naughty Dog did with Uncharted 4 was Elena and Nathan’s domestic spaces. I did purchase The Division 2 on the cheap a couple of weeks ago and I’ll be honest, there’s a lot about it that I’m enjoying quite a bit. For a start, visually it’s stunning. The art team have done an excellent job of both filling the world with immense detail, but also making every area of Washington unique and distinct which is a huge feat given the total space covered. Thus far, I’ve spent a whole lot of time just walking around and gathering resources, in part just to sightsee and explore without any particular objective in mind. After a while, I got the impression that the map was a bit flat, but the more you explore, the more you find places where you get verticality, and then doing missions always adds verticality and variety in environmental and art design, it’s a marvel to see.

Apologies to James and Thomas (above) for ripping these images, but I’m glad your names are in frame so you have direct credit - outstanding work. The art in this game is without question its strongest element.

And that’s just the thing - The Division is an interesting game in that what I enjoy most is the sense of walking around exploring, gather resources and helping people. I’m not here on an anti-violence kick - I play Battlefield, I actually don’t mind the shooting in The Division, it’s fine, whatever, I’m not going to justify that. What I’m saying is that it gets boring.

THERE ARE A LOT OF GAMES ABOUT SHOOTING.

Like... a lot. More than enough. There will always be a lot of games about shooting and that’s fine. I think I’ll always play them. Hey, I even play games about shooting *in very specific ways* - it’s not like I don’t care about the shooting, I’m playing The Division with only a bullpup DMR and shotgun combo, plus I’m trying to use my sidearm when traversing the streets as much as possible so don’t at me, I’m in the game.

But we seem to mostly get high detail assets in games with guns because shooty games get all the money. I get it - shooty games get all the sales because we as gamers like to play them - sure, I’m one of them, but I didn’t buy The Division until it was under AUD$30 because gotdam the shooting is so boring and even now yes, it really do be just more boring shooting, just like it’s boring in Uncharted, just like it’s boring in Ghost Recon (my goooooood so boring), just like it is in Destiny, and the umpteenth shooty mcshooty game. I’m getting too old for this.

Uncharted 4 had an opportunity to do something more and it almost did. For many players, it probably achieved enough of what I was after by those two visits to the Fisher and North residences but I wanted so much more of that. I want to see Sully’s house or houses, more of his life. I want to know where Chloe’s life is at. I want to know of their lives and emotional engagements outside of the frankly stupid narrative I have no interest in because it’s clearly stupid and an excuse for running and jumping that other games have since done better. If Uncharted as a whole was a subtext for character, then by the fourth game, the focus should have been the characters that carried the series thru to the end - no disrespect to Tom Baker - not the heretofore unrevealed older brother.

For Years I Didn’t Know “Walking Simulator” Was A Pejorative

I think this is why I replayed and continue to replay Dear Ester so much. I remember laughing my ass off at YouTubers making videos about how it wasn’t a game and that it didn’t have objectives. Yet there were still threads and might still be on reddit or Discord wherever gamers congregate these days - about “virtual tourism” and “just chillin’ in place x because it’s so awesome” etc. It’s fine, each generation will rediscover virtual tourism again and again and we can’t denigrate anyone for doing so, it’s certainly nothing we invented given it comes from literature and oral tradition before that, but it’s remarkable that there’s this resistance to experiences crafted purely for the purposes of being immersed in them.

I adore Dear Ester and Everybody’s Gone To The Rapture. Absolutely loved What Remains Of Edith Finch and only if you have already played Edith Finch, because it’s full of spoilers but also its own spoiler warnings, I heartily recommend Joseph Anderson’s outstanding video The Villain of Edith Finch. It’s a 53 minute watch so I won’t embed it, and he has a certain style of presentation that won’t gel with everyone, nor do I always agree with everything he says which should go without saying but at some point folks, you have to stop pursuing art, criticism and media that just wholly aligns with your own views. That said, I generally do find most of what he says agreeable, innit. Anyway he’s great and the video is great.

While Dear Esther is more surreal and Rapture and Edith Finch are in part slightly more fantastical than the real-life settings of Uncharted 4′s home and Division’s post-apocalyptic cities, they all visually represent dense, very human object-rich spaces that to me are quite interesting to explore. Dear Esther might be a little more rooted in nature but its human elements tie-in to its narrative in an extremely interesting way. Each game offers different levels of interaction, some that serve the narrative directly, some as subtexts and others quite mildly in the periphery.

I’m sorry if I’m repeating myself but I remember seeing a promo for Battlefield Hardline coming off the back of Battlefield 4 and the ridiculous marketing phrase “levolution” - the term they coined for large-scale environmental destruction (please take the keys away from the marketing department). I remember seeing video footage of a large construction crane falling in a level and thinking

“All this intelligence, all this tech, and this is what we do with it? Is this all we can achieve? This is it?”

That’s how I feel about this emerging technology. Somewhere out there (on YouTube, to be fair), there’s all this footage buried of the Beyond Good And Evil sequel that to everyone’s knowledge is still in development. I’d put my money on that being the first project built in Ubisoft’s convergence engine that they hope successfully implements everything that each of these games executes individually. I know the BG&E fans are frothing for it and when I saw those early demos, what I interpret of the tech did blow me away, but from an experience perspective, I did still think the same thing...

“Is this it?”

Because of-course, a huge part of the new game is going to be combat. I just - don’t - care. When I think about what was lacking in Uncharted 4, what I wanted more of, it was intimacy. What didn’t I like about the conversation and resolution between Elena and Nathan? About the tours of their homes, the little time spent playing as Cassie, the few insights into Sully as a character, the absence of Chloe who was such a great contrast to Nathan, Elena and Sully all-together... it was intimacy. Yea oroight, so I don’t exactly mean the type of real-life intimacy between lovers, do I - that much is clear. But if I don’t mean shooty because there’s enough of that, and I’m leaning into domestic detail and emotional exploration and reflections of that in objects, spaces and interactivity, then that’s what I mean.

Tho I’m loath to bring it up, I feel like in the worst possible way, David Cage is right on the periphery of this discussion (and for that reason, I ain’t tagging him or his games in this entry, get fucked). He has the most vague notion of trying to ground his games in the intimacy of human experience, so he tries to tie human locomotion and objects to the digital representations of interactivity. If we take those as perhaps the worst possible examples and then come back to some really good examples in Uncharted 4 so I can stop whipping it - I maintain that the house tours are strengths and the high-points of the game, and then look at something like The Division and consider opportunities for more complex interactivity centred around helping people and emotional engagement, I feel like that’s what I’m after.

Which is impossible, right? No-one’s going to make a game even a quarter of the scope of The Division, with all that amazing dynamic lighting, with all those awesome textures and mapped objects, animations, rigged character models, complex scripting and AI, interactivity, load-on-demand tech and full voice-talented support, just to be a game about exploring, sightseeing, meeting and learning about people and helping them? Because who would play that?

I would, for a start.

[leelee10898]

Chikara: Zenshin suru (2/?)

Summary:Moving forward. At least thats what Ellie is trying to do. Meanwhile Colt finds trouble back home. Catch up HERE. If you would like added to the tag list, let me know.

Raiting: Mature. This series deals with violence, angst, death, sexual situations and bad choices. Read at your own risk.

Ellie sat up in disbelief oh you have got to be kidding me she flopped back down on the bed. "Oooh come on Ellie, its gonna be so much fun." Ellie rolled her eyes as she was lifted up off the bed. "Seriously Ingrid, how the hell did you end up in here? You had a different roommate." Ellie groaned, could her luck get any worse? A horribly emotional Thanksgiving, and now this, she was convinced someone hated her.

"Well," Ingrid flipped her hair and sat on ellies bed "I put in for a new roommate before Thanksgiving. She was horrible, she used to microwave liver, the dorm smelled like burnt rotten sneakers." She pointed her finger to her throat, making a gagging sound. "So they called with this opening and well,  here I am!" She perked up. "Come on, there's a party tonight in the dorms across the quad, lets go."

"A party? God no. I'm really not in the mood to party, it was a long,  long break and a long flight, you go on without me this time ok. " Ellie refused.

"No can do! I have watched you mope around this campus like a sad little puppy dog. It stops now! Get up, get your ass dressed." Ellie eyed Ingrid in disbelief, was she really going to allow her high school rival boss her around. She stared at Ingrid a moment longer,  arms folded against her chest. "Fiiiiiiine!" She got up and started getting ready. Once she was fully dressed she grabbed Colts jacket and walked out the door.

They walked into the crowded halls of the building across the quad. The music pumping throughout, kegs in many of the rooms and almost everyone had a red solo cup in hand. "Want a beer?" Ingrid tried talking over the loud music. "No. I don't drink." She shouted back, Ingrid shrugged her shoulders "suit yourself."  Ingrid paraded Ellie around, introducing her to so many people. She felt oddly out of place, but if she was going to try and move on, she figured maybe this was a start. What she wouldn't give to have Riya here with her now, but Riya was a little over an hour away at hartfeld. They were standing there talking to some girl Ingrid knew when two guys approached, one with Dark blonde hair, the other a brunette with stunning blue eyes. The girl walked away leaving the two of them, with the two guys.  "Looking good Ingrid." The blonde smirked as he leaned in kissing Ingrid's cheek. "Kyle, this is Ellie. Ellie, kyle." Ellie gave him a shy wave. "Nice to meet you Ellie, this is my friend Nick." Kyle introduced the two.

Ingrid and Kyle were caught up in an intense, flirtatious conversation, leaving Ellie and Nick standing there. "So. You don't look like you want to be here." Nick finally broke the silence. "I'm not really into the whole party scene." She admitted.  "Neither am I, I only came because Kyle wanted to see Ingrid." He chuckled as he stood next to Ellie. "Yeah. Ingrid drug me out. Still getting used to being friends with her, after being rivals for so long."

"Oh, so you two knew each other before college?" He quirked his brow, seemingly interested in having a conversation with her. "Yeah. We went to the same high school. Battled for valedictorian our senior year."

Nick leaned in a little closer.  "And which one of you won it?" His voice low and Intoxicating. She bit her lower lip. Trying to stop the huge grin from spreading across her face. "I bet it was you. You got that smart and beautiful thing going for you." Her face was now beat red. "Beautiful huh?" She tried to even her voice, praying he didn't hear the slight tremor. "I call it how I see it. And you Ellie, are probably the most beautiful woman here." Ellie turned a deep shade of crimson,  it had been a while since anyone flirted with her. She couldn't help but think about Colt, what he was doing in that moment, wondering if he even thought of her at all anymore. Ellie mentally reprimanded herself, she was trying to move on with her life, she needed to stop pretending that she and Colt were anything but a distant memory now. "Hey Nick, wanna dance?" Nick smiled wide "Lets do it."

****

California…

Colt climb off his bike and stashed it, he made his way quickly down the familiar street and ducked in the side through the loose boards. He had been coming to the shop here and there for a few months, ever since the heat from the FBI died down. He hadn't been in a couple weeks, he spent Thanksgiving break with his mom and he was itching to get back to the shop and continue his treasure hunt. He started in the back of the shop, mostly sticking to the private quarters. His pop wasn't like a regular blue collar guy, he didn't use a bank except for the legit auto shop account. Everything else he had was hidden in the shop like In the walls where one or more of his great grandparents installed a fireproof safe, Loose floorboards, hollowed out cabinets with a removable panel. Colt had found the deed to the garage, a copy of Kaneko's will leaving everything to him, the original he was certain in a safe deposit box somewhere, he knew he would have to piece clues together,  it was what his dad did. He also found Several stacks of money, bonds and other property deeds.

He climbed the steps to Logans loft. He had yet to go up there, the bitter taste of Jealousy still thick on his tongue. He hated Logan from the moment he met him, he hated that a pretty boy was his father's prize poodle, he had the nice car,  the good jobs, and he had Ellie eating out of the palm of his hand. He snorted, a smirk forming on his lips when that changed. He swore he could still feel the softness of her lips pressed against his, her arms wrapped tightly around him as they lost themselves in the pacific.

Colt walked through the room, stepping over debris, a gaping hole in the roof letting the moonlight shine in giving him some natural light.

He found a metal box under the burnt bed frame, he had to pry it open, not much inside except a few slips of paper and a flash drive. He checked his phone, 9pm. He had been there longer then he should. He pocketed the flash drive and descend the stairs to the bay. His eyes landed on something glimmering in the moonlight. He reached down to pick up the item,  his heart caught in his chest as he realized what it was.

******

The day he took Ellie to her driving test, he wandered around inside the dmv, waiting for her to finish up. He knew she would pass, she was a natural. A rack of keychains sat displayed in front of him, he fumbled through them until he found the perfect one.

He waited outside as Ellie bounced out of the DMV, a freshly printed license in hand. "I passed, I passed!" She squealed as she threw her arms around Colts neck. "Congratulations. Here I got you something." He held out the silver crown keychain. Ellie looked between him and the key chain, as she took it out of his hand "thank you colt. But why a crown?" Colt shrugged his shoulders, "I'll tell you later, now come on let's get back to the shop."

*******

How did it get here? He knew Ellie had it on her keychain when she left for school, she hadn't been back to the shop after that night, unless. Unless she was there, sometime while he was away. He felt the lump in this throat grow bigger, she was there and he could have seen her. In that moment the need to see her, to feel her in his arms, to hear her voice, taste the sweetness of her lips. It was all too much to bare. He shook the thoughts from his head,  she was at Langston, safely away from the crime ridden streets of LA, it wouldn't be long until he was with her again.

He put the keychain in his pocket, along with the flash drive and headed to where he stashed his bike a few blocks over. He kept looking over his shoulder,  a nagging feeling he was being followed. He got to his stash spot, attempting to quickly climb on his bike and start it and thats when he hit him. Colt crashed to the ground with a thud, his bike coming with him. He had just enough time to roll as his attacker came down on him with a knife. He sprang to his feet, adrenaline coursing through him. His assailant charged forward, colt side stepping, grabbing the attacker by the arm, bringing his elbow down on his shoulder,  the knife hitting the ground with a clatter.

The man clutched his shoulder, crying out in pain. "Wrong choice buddy. Guess you don't know who I am?" Colt spat as the man turned, baring a rage filled face. "I don't ask names, I do what im told." He circled Colt, looking for his opening when his fist connected hard with Colts jaw. The attacker grabbed the knife, as colt lunged forward, tackling him to the ground. Colts first landing blow after blow, the man lifted his hand, slicing into colts side. Fuck! Colt screamed out in pain, it only fueled his rage further as he screamed "Who sent you?" he screamed as he twisted his body bringing the mans arm behind him,incapacitating him. "Arg, not going. To tell you." Colt shook his head as he pulled his arm further behind him. "Ahhh. Wallace. His names wallace." Satisfied colt released his hold on the man, shoving him to the ground. "Of course he didnt give you a fucking name. The little bitch. He knew you'd never fucking do it." Colt circled the man, stalking him like a lion and he was his prey. The man looked up at him confused, A devious smirk played on his lips, "the names Kaneko." He let the name set in. "I'm thinking the letters M.P.C are flashing in your mind right now aren't they?"  The man sat there, paralyzed in fear. "Now, you run and tell all your friends, that MPC still runs things." The man nodded his head and took off.

Colt clutched his side,  the realization that he was hurt crashing down on him at once. He hopped on his bike, flying down the highway to the only place he could think to go.

He pulled up to a small house in a backwoods California town, Killed the engine and walked to the house. He reached the door, banging harder than necessary. "Colt. What the hell are you doing here?" The voice spoke through the latched door. "I know. I'm sorry but, its an emergency." He pulled his blood covered hand from his side. "I need your help."

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[junkyardlynx]

You like scary stories? Good. I’ve got one. Submitted for the approval of the midnight society, or whatever. Who fucking knows. Honestly, I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t just one shared fever dream between seven stupid kids. Except the part where the dream was real. Has to be real now that I think about it. Anyway. I’m rambling. About all I can do, right now. Haha. How sad. 

The year was 1998.

Good year.

Goldeneye came out in 1997, so it was really the year 0001 AG to me and my friends. We fucking loved Goldeneye.

I was seventeen and I lived alone in a small town in northwest Indiana. It’s farm country’s farm country. I’d been orphaned and bounced around since I was ten, but being nearly eighteen and relatively well-behaved was reason enough for the state to turn me loose with my inheritance. Quitters. You could stand at one edge of the town and spit to the other end. We had one bar, an elementary school, a post office, a vet, and a corner store. It sucked, but it was cheap and somewhat near the only living family I still had. I lived just above the post office and vet, which was probably the only really neat part of town, so I guess I had something going for me. Add a shitty 1988 Ford Probe bought at cost from a frustrated dealership into the mix and I was up street.  

My uncle Mike lived alone too, a forty minute drive away out by the county line road. He had a pretty nice farm house to himself after my aunt Sherry filed for divorce due to her own extramarital affair. I guess when you’re surrounded by woods on all sides and the only things to keep you company are a host of chickens, a couple turkeys, a goat, a dog, and a...fucking peacock, you kinda get antsy for some excitement. I suppose a two story barn and a grain silo aren’t exciting enough. Anyway. They hadn’t taken me in after my parents died because they had their own problems and I understood. Couldn’t force a kid on someone who wasn’t going to take proper care of it.

Mike was headed into the city for the weekend to shack up with this girl he was into. He did this from time to time, too awkward to ask her to move in with him and too shy to accept her offer, so they just had their trysts. Wasn’t really my business. He called me after I got home on Friday from classes and immediately launched into his request.

“Hey killer, I’m going to see Mary this weekend. Can ya hold down the fort for me? Just feed the animals once a day and don’t let Garfield eat anything dumb.”

“Uh, sure.” 

Garfield was the goat’s name.

I watched him eat the license plate off “Uncle” Van’s...van, once. His name was Van, he was a friend of Mike’s aaaaaand he owned a van. I guess life works like that sometimes, predictable and all. Anyway, Garfield would eat literally fucking anything near his big dumb idiot mouth, like most goats. 

“And uh, I think there’s a bunch of beer in the fridge that’s gonna go bad. Could you do me a favor and get rid of it, bud?”

I could hear the wink through the receiver. I grinned as I pinned the receiver between my shoulder and ear, rummaging around through the cupboards to find my little book of phone numbers.

“Oh yeah, sure thing. Wouldn’t want to have bad beer hanging around in the fridge.”

“That’s what I’m talking about. It better all be gone when I get back. Love ya, kid.”

“Love you too, man. Have a good weekend.”

With an audible click, the other line hung up and I was already dialing people’s numbers. Robert was first, as he was my best and most radically tight brother-man. 

“What’s up, Dingus Kong?” 

Ever since he was twelve, he had the voice of a full-time, carton-a-day smoker. I was honestly a little jealous.

“There’s a beer leak at my uncle’s and we have to plug it up. Call Louis and Alex and make their dumb asses come out. You know the address?”

“Hell yeah, dude. Can I invite Jay?”

“What do I look like, a cop? Of course you can. Saves me the trouble.”

“Cool, later dickless.”

“Peace.”

It wasn’t long until I’d roped Robert, Louis and Jay into things, along with Alex, Laura and June. Alex and Louis had been dating forever and were pretty much attached at the hip, while I had a thing for June. A very quiet, subdued thing, because I operated under the assumption that no one was ever interested and that any thought to the contrary was pointless and asking for trouble. 

We met up at my uncle’s house around 9. They’d pitched in and brought a shit ton of snacks but no one brought any actual food, so our diet that night was going to consist of...Natty Light, snack cakes and chips, pretty much. High school kids eat worse on a daily basis, so no one really cared. I remember being shocked at just how packed the fridge was with shitty Natty Light. Good thing I had good friends.

It was a pretty relaxed atmosphere - Louis and Alex were touchy in the corner of the living room, already a couple beers deep. Robert, Laura and Jay were playing Goldeneye on the Nintendo 64 in the den. They had a penalty game where you had to drink when you died and if you were that fucking prick that picked Oddjob, you both had to take a drink at the start of the round and two when you died. It was fair, believe me. Fuck people who pick Oddjob. 

That pretty much just left June and I. We relaxed in the kitchen, shooting the shit and laughing at each other’s bad jokes. Sometimes we’d look out over the kitchen counter and down into the den / living room - the farm house’s design was always kind of odd to me, but I liked it. The whole house was a one story with a basement. You could come in through the glass sliding door and be right in the living room / den area, then turn right and go up four or five stairs to reach the bedrooms and the turnoff into the kitchen / office area where the front door was. The kitchen had a very open structure, with the sink looking down on the den, and you kinda felt like a commander if sat there and just watched everyone. So I did.

“Hey, Charles?” 

“What’s up?” 

I turned back towards June, taking another sip from that honestly kinda shitty beer in my hand. Ah, the taste of youth - cheap alcohol obtained through immoral or subversive means, like a really cool uncle.

“We should go out to the barn.”

“Why the hell and fuck not?” 

I put on some bravado, but honestly, my uncle’s farm creeped me out. I’d stayed here for the summer once and I swore I could hear things swaying in time with the tall grass as the sun started to die. An animal would go missing every now and then, but my uncle always shrugged it off as coyotes. Never really felt like coyotes, but who was I to disagree when he was the one that lived here all the time?

“Hey, everyone! We’re going outside, time to get up in the hayloft and be stupid.”

I heard a chorus of replies and the click-whrrr of a tube television being powered off, followed by a rowdy collection of feet stomping up carpeted steps. Everyone poured into the kitchen, grabbing things like twinkies and cold hot dogs and new beers. It wasn’t long before we took the party outside, flicking the floodlights on the house on for comfort as much as visibility. We ambled as a drunken mass, slowly making our way towards the faded red barn. 

I have no idea why the barn was so fucking huge, given that less then ten animals lived there. The space was equipped for a sizable amount of large livestock like cows and horses, but all that it held was a collection of idiot birds with too much love and not enough sense. A ladder leading up to the hayloft poked through a square, and we began our inebriated ascent. 

It wasn’t long before we settled into a circle, talking about nothing in particular on the warm wooden floor of the loft. June had taken a seat next to me, so of course, I overthought absolutely everything before determining there was no way she was into me because why would she be? She was way too cool and cute. It was obvious. 

Somehow, we got onto the topic of scary stories. Spooky scary skeleton time. I made up some dumb thing about a cannibal cult in the woods, but it wasn’t very thought out, so everyone gave me shit. Robert just thrust his beer into the air and yelled “WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, IT’S ALIENS”, which got a laugh out of all of us. It finally came around to June, who began to tell us about La Llarona, a crying ghost lady in Mexican folklore. 

It was actually pretty spooky until you realized June was like, four foot fucking eight with the voice of an adorable church mouse, and then you were unable to take it seriously. 

We swapped a few more before silence descended on us, slow and natural. The workman’s lamps that I’d lit with a long trigger lighter burned, casting shadows along the walls and illuminating our faces. I smiled as I realized June’s head had come to rest on my right shoulder, feeling not unlike someone blessed by the attention of a regal crow.

“Dude. I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, Illberto.” 

I waved him off with my left hand before looking around. Something was bothering me, but I couldn’t put my hands on it. Honestly speaking, it was kinda like someone had some bodacious body odor going on and tried to cover it up with some sort of perfume. I took as...well, as discreet a sniff as possible, trying to see if it was one of us. 

I don’t think it was, because the more I smelled it, the more I realized it smelled less like body odor and more like that strange stench of death. Sickly sweet, putrefaction rendering the body of something no longer alive into components for bacteria to consume. I kinda wrote it off as dead mice somewhere since I was an idiot at 17. (I still am an idiot, but I was a bigger idiot. Harder head. More impressively stupid. Anyway.) The smell was bothering me though, so I gently pushed June’s head off my shoulder and stood up.

“Since Mr. Crunch and Munch wants some food, I’m gonna run back to the house and grab some chow and booze. Anyone want anything in particular?”

No one really had an idea of what they wanted, so the group just started chanting “FOOD AND BOOZE, FOOD AND BOOZE, FOOD AND BOOZE” at me. I laughed and nodded, giving a sort of half-wave to June who just smiled at me the whole time as I went to climb down the ladder.

Too bad the ladder was gone.

I groaned in annoyance, turning around to address everyone.

“Very cool, who fucked with the ladder?”

“What are you talking about, brother-man?”

Louis piped up, head resting on top of Alex’s. I gestured dramatically at the square hole in the floor, then pantomimed the act of climbing the ladder.

“There was a ladder here. It’s gone now.”

“It probably fell, Charlie.” 

There went Laura, being the voice of reason. I shrugged in assent. Stop making sense, god damn it.

“I’ll just pull a Spidey-boy and jump down. It’s like, ten feet.” 

Something in my head kept telling me that people can die from slipping and falling on ice, but I ignored it. I just had to brace myself, land on my feet and not hit my brain cage. Really simple. 

I walked back over to the hole in the hayloft, sitting down and scooching to the edge. That fucking smell punched me right in the nose once again, pungent and sweet. I almost stop then, but I don’t really wanna look like a goon in front of June. Uh, June and everyone else, that is.

So I stuck my foot down into the oddly deep darkness of the barn below. 

Something wet and hot smacked against it, nearly wrapping around my exposed ankle.

I yelped perhaps the most pathetic sound known to man and physically extricated myself from the hole by leaping up and jumping back. Everyone laughed of course.

“What’s up, penis pump?”

Fuck off, Robert.

“Either the turkeys have really long and slimy necks now, or something down there just grabbed my fucking ankle.”

“Very funny, Charles.” Alex fixed me with a stare, assuming I was taking the piss out of everybody. Holy fuck, I wished I was.

“I’m serious, you assholes.” I’d thrust my right leg out, showing everyone my ankle and foot. A reddish brown goop clung to it, thick and viscous. The smell was emanating from it, and everyone seemed to have taken notice to it. Unless they started retching for a different reason, like my ankle being particularly abhorrent.

“Brother-man, dude, what the fuck is that?”

You’re asking me, Louie Louie?

“Yeah, that’s a negative Ghost Rider, I have no idea. I’m gonna chill up here for a bit, if someone else feels like Rambo, they can go down.” 

I took off my button up and used it to wipe the goo off of my ankle, but the smell seemed to have set in. I noticed a burning sensation on my skin that increased in intensity as I wiped, but it soon faded to a dull throbbing, becoming the least of my worries. In that time, Louis got up to check out the hole.

 He returned to where Alex was, face pale and stiff. 

That’s when we heard it.

“veerrrryfufufufu-”

The sound stopped, then started again. Almost like someone starting a sputtering car engine.

“Verrrrry cocococococo-cokkkkkkkkkhhssssh. Wshooo fufufufufuf. Wshoooo fufufufuckt wishlatter?” 

You ever have someone come up to you and say “hey, we need to talk” and you feel your stomach drop out of your body and onto the floor? 

Yeah, that. That’s the feeling I felt, but way worse. After all, someone wanted to know who fucked with the ladder. Someone who couldn’t string together two words if they wanted to, and they desperately wanted to.

We’d all crammed ourselves into the back of the hayloft, the seven of us together. Oppressive darkness clung to the places not illuminated by the lamps, and the long lighter lay a good ten feet away from us. No one moved to get it. We heard it again and again, some twisted mockery of a voice continually asking who fucked with the ladder. Then it asked again, in my voice.

“Very cool. Who fucked with the ladder?”

Everyone’s eyes were on me, and I shook my head wordlessly as it asked again, perfectly, matching my rhythm and cadence and tone. 

“Hey, if this is a joke because you thought the Goosebumps books were high literature, we’re gonna string you up by your earlobes dude.”

“Fuck off. It’s not. You think I got bored and recorded me fucking around before you all got here? With the tape recorder I don’t fucking own?”

I was hostile.

We were all on edge.

“I don’t know, were you man?”

“Don’t start with me, Robert.”

“Yeah, whatever, you’re a lazy piece of shit. I know you wouldn’t do this.”

“I swear to god.”

The tension was almost lifted until we heard that wet smacking again, like someone slapping a steak on pavement. It was hilarious until you realized it was probably either something dead being slammed around, or some part of the mysterious thing’s anatomy. The smacking persisted as it mercifully ceased it’s questioning, realizing it’s bait wasn’t working. Slowly, the wet squelching of flesh against concrete grew quiet and far away and the stench that pervaded the air began to thin.

I appraised everyone and jerked my head back at the hole in the hayloft.

“Okay. Okay. We’re gonna drop down and run to the house.”

“Is there any better option you have that isn’t ‘jump down and say hi to the crazy stinky murder rapist’ below us?”

“Not really, Alex. Sorry.”

“Alex and I can stay up here,” Louis offered, but she looked at him with her mouth agape.

“Are you dumb, Louis? I’m not staying in that barn alone with this thing. No, really, are you an idiot?”

I looked at Louis with a kind of knowing glance, knowing he was just trying to help out and allay her fears. Couldn’t really blame her, though.

“He’s just looking out for what you want to do. Anyway, we should all go. I’ll go down first and keep a look out while everyone comes down. C’mon.”

I honestly don’t know where I found the balls of steel I was now equipped with, but I was thankful. I think it was just this overwhelming sense of “we have to go now or something bad is going to happen.” Without giving anyone a chance to reply, I broke away from our little heard and took a running start at the hole, leaping down it before my rational mind could catch up.

I let my legs hit and then tucked myself into a roll to rob the fall of it’s momentum, coming up unscathed. I glanced around, greeted by deadly...nothing. Just silence. It wasn’t until I looked at the ground that I noticed it was covered in a thick layer of that reddish-brown goop, and it stunk horribly. I started to gag but I had the sense to bite it down. No point in putting more disgusting fluids on the floor.

“Jump down! C’mon!”

I shouted up and June practically leapt into my arms, so I caught her and set her down, giving her a tender smile. She was all of four foot eight and ninety pounds, so it wasn’t really a feat of athleticism. Of course, Robert came next, and my knees buckled as his six foot frame met mine with that peculiar rapport we had. 

“No smile for me?”

“I swear, dude.”

I swore a lot, apparently.

The rest followed in suit until eight of us stood in the barn, devoid of animals as it was.  I hoped they’d just run off or sought shelter, but another part of me said that wasn’t the case. I exhaled roughly and looked at our group before nodding.

“Okay, we gotta run. I don’t know when that thing’s coming back, but I can already smell that weird stink getting stronger. I think we’ll be safe in the house since we can look the doors and call the cops.”

“Wait, cops? Dude, we’re doing a little thing called underage drinking.”

Thank you for stating the obvious, Louis.

“Oh, yeah! Way better to get murdered and eaten. You’re right.”

“Point taken.” 

We all murmured our assent before taking one last look around. The lamps burned, slowly dimming as their fuel began to run out. I think we left the lighter up there. Not that it mattered, I guess. I reached out and took June’s petite hand, tugging her gently towards the house.

“Let’s go.”

We began to do an awkward sort of power walk, too scared to run and draw it’s attention but not intent on going any slower than we had to. Our group of seven began to cut across the field, towards the shining lights of the farmhouse. 

A horrific wet SMACK from behind us broke that fragile discipline that kept us calm. A plaintive sort of gurgling howl, like a tiger braying it’s dying cry inside of a charnel pit spurred us on, and I roughly pulled on June’s hand. Her fingers slipped from mine for a moment, but her strong and lengthy fingers found mine, slick with what I assumed was sweat. I didn’t bother looking back as the warm porch lights flooded my vision. I let go of the hand I was holding and turned around to regard our group of eight, making sure everyone was there.

Wait.

Eight?

June, Robert, Louis, Alex, Laura, Jay, and myself. Seven. I glanced at my hand, realizing it was slick with that peculiar fluid. I kept the gorge rising in my throat down, somehow.

Swallowing both vomit and my fear, I began to inspect everyone before herding them inside, one by one. There wasn’t a face I didn’t recognize, but there was an extra person here. I got June, Alex, Robert, Laura and Louis into the house before I realized it. 

There were two Jays.

“Hey Jake, come inside.”

Jay kinda gave me a weird look, wondering if I was actually an idiot. The right Jay, anyway. The other one just slowly started to walk forward.

“Hey, I said Jake come inside man. Practice your manners dude.”

My stare was insistent on the real Jay’s, begging him to come in and not make a scene. He shrugged and stepped inside, and only a moment later I was behind him, slamming the sliding glass door so hard I thought I’d shatter. 

The Jay that wasn’t Jay pressed it’s face to the glass and that fetid liquid began to pour from it’s nose as it’s now-malformed hand began to tap lightly on the glass. What looked like clothes began to slough off in thick puddles of what looked to be flesh, pooling on the patio.

“Come inside. Hey. Manners. Come inside. Hey. Come inside.” 

Robert had noticed what was going on and yelled in what I’m sure he’d want me to report was a very manly and commanding shout. Basically, he screamed like a little bitch. Everyone else noticed and booked it up the sort little landing to the second tier of the house, not willing to look at what was happening anymore.

I couldn’t look away. It gently tapped at the glass,  as a second figure approached from the darkness, eventually pressing it’s face to the glass.

My face.

I watched my own face melt away into nothing, forming a featureless expanse of skin with two unseeing and empty eye sockets. The me that wasn’t me tapped politely on the glass like a door-to-door salesman, asking to be let in.

That sure wasn’t fucking happening. In a haze, I waddled backwards, reaching for the phone that sat on the coffee table by the sofa in this 70′s decor mess of a living room.

It wasn’t there. The cord lay neatly on the table, but the entire phone was gone. It looked deliberate, which means that...well, it meant that my uncle took it with him.

Something clicked in my mind, but I buried it as I pedaled backwards slowly, approaching the display cabinet that held my grandmother’s prized compound bow. I heard from my uncle that she’d been an avid hunter into her 90′s and only passed due to the ravages of...well, a car wreck. I was never more thankful to have a badass relative I’d never met than when I pulled that compound bow out of the display cabinet and nocked an arrow.

Never mind the fact that the last time I went bow hunting was when I was like, twelve.

I stared down the two creatures, still begging to be let in in my voice. My hands trembled even as I began to draw back the heavy string. God damn, grandma, how strong were you? What the hell. 

I strafed up the steps, muscles in my arms screaming for release, but I told myself that they couldn’t come in unless they were invited. It was just a glass door, and these things weren’t dumb, apparently. I don’t know what they were. I’d met strange things in the woods around the house, but never anything like this. Obviously. The surreality of it all made it seem absurd to even question what they were. 

It wasn’t until I reached the kitchen with everyone else that I could slowly release the tension and lower the bow, though I kept the arrow nocked and ready. I gave everyone in the kitchen a wary nod as they huddled together, staying deathly quiet. Looking over the kitchen counter and down into the den, I could see one still tapping on the glass. The other was gone.

A soft knock at the door by the office let us know where the other had wandered off to. It repeated a broken string of words in my voice, asking to be let in, saying it was very cool. It’d be humorous if it wasn’t fucking terrifying. 

Wordlessly, I huddled everyone back into the hallway and lead them to my uncle’s room, unlocking it with the key I had. It was the furthest bedroom away from everything else and had a clear line of sight to the hallway, so if they somehow broke their self-imposed rules, I could at least take a steady shot. The door creaked open and the bedroom lay before us as I flipped on the light.

My uncle’s room was surprisingly sparse and barren. No personal effects remained and you could tell where the furniture had been moved in a hurry, like someone was looking for something. It gave the feeling of someone that wasn’t coming back, and the discontent in my heart grew. 

“Yeah, think he’s been moving stuff over to his girlfriend’s place.” 

I said to no one in particular, placating questions before they could come out. A barren mattress lay on a box spring in the corner.

“Let’s stay in here tonight. It’s not gonna be comfortable, but a couple of people can take the bed and the rest of us can take the floor. I’ll keep watch.”

“Charles...”

Robert sounded concerned for once. I laughed. I glanced back and his face soured before he smiled.

“Nevermind, you’re still a penis pump.”

Everyone, still slightly drunk and nervous, began to occupy their own space in the empty room. I sat against the open doorframe, bow laying on my lap, trained down the hallway. Minutes slipped into hours, and everyone began to pass into a light sleep.

Everyone except me.

The sight of the flesh sloughing off their mutable frames was burned into my mind. Not much sleep to be found after that.

Throughout the night, I heard taps all around the house, like a diligent inspector checking for termites in wood. If I strained my sleepless ears, I could hear my own voice rattling through the walls. The deathly sweet stench of the barn had returned, permeating my brain and setting up residence there. 

Once or twice, I thought I heard tapping and murmuring at the single window in my uncle’s bedroom, but surely that wasn’t possible. It was a good eight feet of the ground, as the room sat on the second “tier” of the house. I dozed for a moment and the tapping seemed to grow more and more furious, so I shook myself awake. I began to dig the bowstring into my finger, rubbing it up and down, fraying my own skin until it bled. 

I felt like I was going to go insane. 

A few long hours later and the sun began to rise, banishing the tapping noise with it and the scent after that. I rose, looking around at the sleeping faces of my friends, relieved. I looked around the empty room once more and went to close my eyes before I realized there was reddish goop smeared on the window of my uncle’s bedroom. 

I’d been watched, all night.

All of us had. 

How many had there been?

Enough to replace us?

Did it matter?

Adrenaline flooding my exhausted body, I crept around the house and checked every window, every door. They were all smeared with handprints, fingerprints, imprints of faces traced in that corpse-goo. My stomach roiled heavily, the beer and junk food of the night before threatening to come up.

We were supposed to be a sacrifice, weren’t we?

The copious amounts of beer. The lack of a phone. My uncle’s personal effects all gone from his room. I suppose the rest, even grandma’s bow, was replaceable to him. Including me.

I woke everyone up and told them we should leave. No one fought it, considering we’d survived the night by listening to me. It was a sort of hollow and empty accolade, but I’d take it. 

As Robert and June piled in my Ford Probe outside, I snuck a peek at the barn. Dark red stains and the remnants of feathers, fur and flesh stained the outside of it’s semi-dilapidated structure, as if the animals had been killed by being thrown at the walls in anger. I swallowed dryly, realizing what those wet thuds and smacks had been. 

We spent the rest of the weekend together, all seven of us. One night at Robert’s, the rest of the day at June’s. I tried several times to contact my uncle, but his girlfriend’s landline was disconnected and his emergency cell phone wasn’t picking up. 

Abandoned twice by the family that wouldn’t even take me in, I guess. 

I never found out what those things were. My uncle’s house was marked as abandoned and reclaimed by the bank, eventually being sold at auction for dirt cheap. I didn’t care. I’d stayed away from the forested areas and anywhere approaching natural, and even took to a vegetarian diet for a few months. 

Eventually the memory faded, and years later I had almost forgotten about it. Life went on, and I remained in that cozy little apartment above the vet’s office and the post office. 

Until tonight. 

When I smelled something sticky-sweet, like what the insides of a pitcher plant must be.

Where something tapped at the door to my apartment, begging to be let in. 

Where my own voice begged me to be let in.

[mysdrymmumbles]

Holy Fuck

Okay, so. 

First day of school was today, and I got this sweet 4 day job, which is rare to get on the first week of school.

And four days is a long time, plus I didn’t know if I’d need to be handing out stuff in homeroom and whatnot, so I wanted to get there early so that I could get a handle on all the stuff I’d need to do.

So I arrived a little before 7:50. I figure 40 minutes before the day starts will be plenty of time.

And then the first minor little bitty hiccup happened.

I signed in and everything and was ready to go, except they didn’t know what classroom I should go to for the agriculture classes.

Mr. K, the teacher, is not on their list of classrooms.

Another sub tells me that he used to be down X hall and I’m like, okay, but the receptionist tells me to find an administrator and that one is near the gym, which is on the far left of the school, maybe a 2 min walk from the office.

Now, I wanna point out that I haven’t been to this school in like 3 years, only subbed there a few times before, and it’s a fucking maze. There’s an upstairs and I’ve been up there, but I could not tell you how to get there. There’s like 9 different long ass halls all this stuff. Now, there’s only 1500 students , which is about the same as the other school I sub for a lot, but this school is so much bigger.

So anyway, I’m heading left toward the gym, occasionally stopping adults with badges to ask if they’re an administrator. 

I nearly get to the gym and a teacher tells me that Mr. K’s room is way at the back of the building. To go all the way back and then it will be a separate building.

I’m like, okay. 

So I turn and start to head back to the office and someone else I’d stopped directs me to an administrator, so I ask them again for good measure and he says the same thing. 

Go all the way to the end of the building. Then keep going.

So I go all the way to the end of the building, but it leads to a classroom and I know I’m going somewhere outside.

So I find a door leading out and I keep going.

Except all I see are tennis courts and baseball fields and whatnot.

And then I hear a voice, “You’re lost.” 

I don’t even fight it. I explain where I’m trying to go, and she tells me to go to the end of the building.

Not the back end. 

The right end.

So I go down the hall to the right and I go and I go and I go. 

Finally, I come out of the building and there are 2 huts.

Beyond, I can see greehouses and another building, but it looks like that building is behind locked gates.

So I head out into the field and sure enough, the gate is locked. 

But there is definitely a building out there.

So I follow the fence.

The next gate is locked as well, but the third one is open into the parking lot. I remember being told to go past one of those, so I go out.

There’s another gate, but I can move the chain over to get in. So I go up to the building and I can see that there’s definitely a classroom in there.

And the door is locked.

I am, most certainly, at the furthest point in the school from the front office.

And I’m already sweaty because it’s muggy and gross outside.

So rather than walk back, I call the school and try to get the custodian. No luck. I call again and try the front office. No luck.

By the way, this whole time I’ve been carrying my supplies bag with me that weighs 12 lbs. 

So I shoulder my bag and head back into the building.

But first, I stop at the first hut, thinking maybe I can use their phone to call or...something.

No one answers and the door is locked.

So I go back to the school building.

And the door is locked.

I’m already tired, so instead of walking around the whole school to get to the front office, I lean on the door and peer in like a scrub and it works! A student comes and lets me in.

And then I see a teacher and I’m like, “fucking finally.” 

So he offers to see if his key works for the room and we head out and he sees that the gates are locked and I tell him how I got over there and he’s like, “let’s call the front office.” 

So we head back in and the ROTC captain is there and he calls the front office.

It’s like 8:20 by now and I’m told not to worry because Mr. K doesn’t have a homeroom so I probably have at least half an hour to get this sorted out.

The ROTC captain tells me that the office should have given me a key to the room. I explain they didn’t because they didn’t know where I was going.

He tells me to go back to the front office.

So back I go.

And they give me a key.

And back I go.

As I’m approaching the way out to the huts, the teacher that helped me sees me and says, “I just saw Mr. K. He thought I was joking when I said I saw his sub.” 

Well.

After walking all the way back there I’m sure as hell not gonna take his word for it. So I decide to go talk to the teacher if nothing else. Maybe he’ll want to take the day off because I’m already here.

So I go out, but the gate I used before is now locked because it’s now after 8:30. 

So I go back into the building and find a way outside.

And I get to the other building and it’s still locked. But now I have a key.

So I open it up, but there’s no teacher. Or lesson plans or rosters or anything.

So I go to check around the greenhouses and find the teacher finally and I’m so relieved and my hip is starting to hurt and my shoulder hurts and I’m sweaty and gross.

Well.

His wife was supposed to have a baby last week, which is why he’d put in for the time off. Except she hasn’t had it yet, and something got confused with HR and they put in for his leave too soon.

He tells me that they’re gonna pay me for a half day since I did come in and that I need to go see Mr. F in the office about it, after asking if I would come in and cover when he does go on leave.

So I go back to the front office.

And Mr. F explains to me that they’re gonna give me a half day and that he would like me to shadow Mr. K to see how he runs his class and whatnot.

._________________.

So I go BACK to Mr. K’s room, the furthest point in the school from the office.

And I shadow.

And I leave at 11:31 because he has planning and there’s nothing he needs help with doing.

And I call to see if I can get a ride because I still haven’t gotten a license.

And my mom’s at the gym and my dad is waiting for the renovation team to come finish the bathroom.

Now it’s too far to walk home, but I figure I can walk to McDonald’s. It’s just down the road I’m on and take a left.

So I pull out pokemon go.

And I’ve walked 4.9 km since I last opened it when I was in the car on the way to the school. I probably got a few points of a km on the way in, but not much, maybe .4-.6.

In the very least, though, I walked 3.5 km.

In that school.

That’s 2 miles.

In that school.

Trying to find where to go and then get the keys and then go shadow and then finally leave.

And no one can come pick me up.

So I start heading toward McDonalds.

And as I go I realize that this road is a LOT longer than I ever paid attention to.

2 miles later, I realized I wasn’t gonna make it to McDonalds and instead settled for Taco Bell, where I sat for an hour until someone could come get me.

So that was my first day of school. 

4 miles. 

4 miles while carrying a 12 lb bag the WHOLE time.

My left hip was starting to go numb near the end, which was a nice change from the pain. My feet hurt, my knees hurt, my hips and shoulders and back hurt. My bra gave me heat rash or whatever the equivalent is. I had a few minutes where I thought I was gonna have to just stop and sit on the side of the road like a weirdo because it was too fucking hot.

I am an idiot.

But at least I made $45. And will likely be going back to work there on Wednesday.

At least this time I know where to go.