#for us to live in and out possible to grow in

[xxxstraightfromtheheartxxx]

Read my tags first, ran out of space.

Note: I change my mind a few times throughout this text post, what I began with is not entirely what I ended with. And I’m not even sure of the ‘conclusion’ I got to. However I’m too tired to try and figure the rest out about it right now. Might change this post later when I have made up my mind or got more questions about it. Heads up! Spelling- and other mistakes in writing, were made. Frequently.

I know my tags make me a hypocrite and that’s one of the judgemental thought processes I’ve been fighting/growing against most for a while now.

I expect people to think similarly to me about this and that’s not within my right, they don’t owe me anything for the choice I decided to make and put the hard work in for. That I’ve suffered for it and for the patience I’ve had to bring up towards others being judgemental and having prejudices they didn’t fight within themselves. The frustration I keep feeling every time I have to explain to other adults how to respect accept and see minorities or marginalised groups as equal in worth to themselves. It’s so tiring, and I’m just white, I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and have these conversations to protect yourself and your family and friends and loved ones over and over again whilst still experiencing racist comments assumptions treatment behaviour bullying exclusion exploitation… through systemic racism, racist communities,through so many facets of their lives.

I feel like I’ve been shouting for equality. Not sure if that’s the best most respectful word for it in english, in my language literally translated our word means ‘equally worthy”. And to me that means that from birth we should all be treated with the same amount of respect love and acceptance. It’s only society, nurture that causes this inequality to exist, that not only allows but encourages prejudices and othering for power. Shouting at people who seemingly just refuse to open their eyes, minds and hearts and keep humanity from growing into healthier behavioural patterns in the future. They refuses to put in more effort to try our best to avoid wars, make the idea of hurting another person out of anything other than self defence, be heavily rejected, punished. Instead of not saving each other out of fear for economic and political threats to our own habitants and countries. To be unified so firmly by the absolute belief that violence is wrong, that those fears wouldn’t even be an issue because we’re all know all the other countries will still have our backs and we’d be able to function without the country that’s trying to start or continue a war, while only having to put in mild effort to be entirely independent from the threatening county, as humanity instead of as “individual countries”. It would cut the county/group at war of their resources entirely, which would endanger them to much to be able to actually be able to hold out being at war and making an actual big difference in the big picture of our common humanity. I know there are many weapons that could destroy so many at the same time, yet they would be poisoning the ground they so gladly wish to live on. (Ofcourse this is an ideal that is almost utopian).

This is the goal I thought we were all collectively working towards throughout our entire lives. To eventually be able to all come together in the far away future. All of the warmhearted people in the world.

And therefore we have to start within our small circle of influence and be open to try and learn to understand and respect each other with our differences and similarities, To expect people to be good and ourselves to put effort in it.

However completely swerved away from my original point. But it is the root of that frustration, hurt, disappointment and envy I experience when I see or hear or feel negative judgement .

People have been calling me stern and too strict and rigid in thought more in the last 4 years. It’s because I’ve been responding to prejudices and discriminatory behaviour and ideas verbally, and I have to admit about 50% of the time quite hard, not disrespectful, but clear. I’ve been setting boundaries over what way there can be spoken about others and myself with me. This week I even threatened to leave the room and wouldn’t continue conversing with them if they didn’t then stop casually using the n-word, while knowing it is wrong and hurtful and what my opinion and feeling was towards it. They called my stern and frowned and sighed but at least could bring it up not to say it with me around anymore. I know I haven’t changed their behaviour without my presence this way and it saddens me to feel them rejecting that part of myself that’s at the core of me. My moral core believe of equality.

When people won’t widen their view for one minority it makes me feel unsafe as part of multiple other minorities. I’m a queer womxn with persistent mental health issues, who isn’t able to work because of it and I’m neurodivergent and have some invisible fysical issues (I have loads of allergies which used to give me big rashes of eczema in my envoys and knees and later hands and feet, it has improved a lot, the amount of allergies keeps expanding though) ( I have a very small amount of energy compared to most people my age because of having to put in too much effort as a child and teen) to take care of others and secretly fighting feelings of depression). I’m lucky to be middle-class, white and have affordable healthcare here. All of these other aspects have made life harder for me throughout my entire life. Yet others have mostly blamed me and pestered me, excluded and avoided me for my inabilities and difference, including the inability to l love men.

It feels unfair that I try so hard to be accepting, understand and respectful of others, and not get the same amount of effort and care back… which is hypocrite of me, because the people I want to make the biggest changes never asked me to do all that. And while their lives are often so much easier specifically on the those societal aspects, does that make them owe me that effort back?

I feel like yes, they should, because they have more space for it, for questioning their prejudices than us. Because of the privileges of the main beliefs in their society, they didn’t have to lift a finger for throughout their entire lives. For all of the freedom and respect they’ve just got thrown in their laps, that took up so much of our lives for us to assemble a resemblance to their quality of life.

(Many people who have to fight for their lives daily, do not have that time or space so they only get to grow slower and are part of minority or marginalised groups as well. Bc evidently their is a lot of prejudice within those groups towards the other groups who are also being pressed down.)

I don’t know if I still think it’s hypocrite of me to expect people to put effort in being good. I don’t think so. The length they are able to go through to make those improvements however, I should bare in mind stronger again, like I used to.

If I give up on following my moral compass on this, I’ll never be the person I hope to be one day. I do feel like I deserve to give myself a break and be forgiving about those negative thoughts because they come from a desire for righteousness and good. Recognise, reject, correct, forgive and trust that I’ll do better next time because it is what I truly want to in the long run. I show myself to not always respond and to better pick my battles, so I can persevere and rebuild my energy for when I can make a bigger impact In the braided context or my own. However when I notice bad behaviour or judgement towards others, I do use little parts of it to give them a correcting look or to speak up for someone else or recently even for myself.

Totally did not see this rant coming!!

I knew this theme has been more at the front of my mind again recently and that I’ve been prickly about it, yet I hasn’t reflected on its origin as deeply as I did just now. So here, little amount of people this will reach, have some personal information from my brain and my heart.

.

I’ve been typing this for so long and my attention span has loosened throughout writing. I don’t supposes I’ve managed to make everything clear, I got more and more tired and created some weird sentence structures and maybe grammar and def phrasing to try to get my point through or at least comprehended.

Don’t come at me about the war part, I know it is unrealistic to achieve anything like that in our lifetimes.

Yet I’m holding onto this dream for dear life. Otherwise what is there? To grow towards, to live for? It all comes to recognising, appreciating, sharing and maintaining the good there is now and nurturing the good to come.

The way you change your immediate reactions to things is that you catch yourself having an uncharitable/bigoted/overly judgmental thought and you catch it and replace it and then you do that a hundred times a day for your whole life and eventually one day like five years later you realize that you think differently now and you’ll always be working on something but that’s how life goes and that’s fine.

[keferon]

Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

------------

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

���Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

---------------------------

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

[sometimesanalice]

Save Your Midnights for Me

Summary: This year has thrown you through a loop. You lost your job, you moved to San Diego, and you reunited with your summer crush from all those years ago who still is just as handsome as ever. As the clock ticks down, you can’t help but wonder what the new year might have in store for you.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 9k

Warnings: fluff and two pining idiots in love

(Author’s note: this one is for the hopeful romantics! Happy New Year, friends!)

You’ve always loved New Year’s Eve. The excitement, the fun, the champagne, the confetti. Everyone riding the high of the hope and potential of the new year ahead.

But tonight, you were on the clock instead of watching as it inched closer and closer to midnight with every tick of the second hand.

The evening has been a whirlwind of cheerful faces as you pour pint after pint of frothy, cold beers. Your arms were definitely feeling the burn of all the margaritas and whiskey sours you’ve been serving up. You were putting all your well-earned practice from the last four months of working at the Hard Deck into good use for the steady stream of Naval patrons who had come to gather and celebrate.

But you liked the steady flow. It kept you focused; it kept you busy. With your head down and your thoughts occupied with tasks and orders and drink recipes and tabs, it spared you from having to see Bradley with the girl in the silver dress who was making it more than clear whose midnight kiss she was after.

Bradley Bradshaw had been the star in all your daydreams growing up. You just never could have anticipated that you still wouldn’t be able to kick that summer crush on him, even all these years later.

This year… hadn’t been the greatest.

The meeting you’d thought was going to be the start of a new chapter in your career with that promotion you’d been hoping and working so hard for had ended with you clearing out your desk and turning in your ID badge, but not even the decent severance package they sent you out the door with could have cushioned that blow.

You’d been laid off from your tech job just in time for your industry to be hit with hiring freezes so glacial it felt like there must have been a breakthrough in global warming, as if the ice caps weren’t melting.

You spent days then weeks then months applying and interviewing on repeat like a groundhog’s day from hell, only to encounter more closed doors than open ones. Had enough ever-so-casual networking coffee chats that you were pretty sure you’d need to switch to decaf if you still wanted to have some functioning adrenal glands by the time you were fifty.

Coming close- so, so close- so many times. Having the final decision come between you and another candidate only for your fingertips to slip off the edge at the very last moment.

Still freefalling the same way you’d been since you’d first been let go.

With your savings dwindling and spirits low, you’d decided that what you needed most was to decompress and reassess. And where better than the place where some of your favorite memories had been made.

All it had taken was one call to your Aunt Penny for the little strands of silver lining to peek out from behind the gray clouds that had filled your skies lately.

By the end of the conversation not only did you have a place to land- the furnished loft above the garage with an ocean view from the tiny kitchen- but also a just-for-now job too, getting to work with her at the bar. Something to help get you back on your feet while the dust of your imploded life settled around you as you figured out your next move.

You weren’t known for staying in any place too long as it was, so it had been easy to pack up and leave the city you’d been living in for the Southern California sun, feeling lighter than you had in ages.

Your mom’s longtime best friend was quite possibly one of your favorite people on Earth. And still is.

There was nothing you looked forward to more than those summers you got to spend in San Diego, when you got to trade your textbooks for days out on the boat. Your family would rent at home near the Benjamin beach house and for almost two months it was carefree days of endless blue water and sand between your toes.

But without a doubt, the highlight of your summer was always Bradley Bradshaw.

A few years older than you, he’d been the cute boy who was the object of all your daydreams. You couldn’t remember who you first celebrity crush was, but you definitely remembered the boy with the curly brown hair who was responsible for giving you butterflies in your stomach for the very first time.

While your brother was more than fine trying to ditch you at every turn, Bradley had always made you feel like you were right where you were supposed to be. He always made you feel included. He had been the one to teach you how to wakeboard, gave you his free dole whip when he made a hole-in-one at Tiki Town, and sat next to you the first time you ever rode the Giant Dipper Roller Coaster.

Even though Penny and Mav’s relationship had been on and off for years, Bradley had remained a steady presence in your life every July and August.

Until the one summer when he didn’t show up.

You’d sat on the stairs with your arms wrapped around your knees that first night and listened on as your mom and Penny talked, piecing together the explanation for Bradley’s absence and why your aunt was dating the uninteresting man you’d met earlier that night at dinner.

The sun, the sand, and the sights were all the same. And yet everything had changed after that.

That had been your last San Diego summer.

You moved on, you went to college, you grew up. But you had never forgotten the boy who had made you feel like sunshine.

You’d always hoped he remembered you just as fondly.

When you heard that Penny and Mav were back together, you thought there might be a chance to see him again, you were always curious about how things had turned out for you. You just never expected for him to quite literally crash back into your life.

Or for all of those sun-warmed feelings came rushing back.

It was your third day of working at the Hard Deck.

You were still getting use to the lay of the land- and announcing corner whenever you made your way out of the stockroom- when you’d come out of the back with your arms full of refill napkins packs only to collide with a wall of muscles with a less than dignified oof.

“Oh, shit!” The hand that reached out to grasp your hip was probably the only reason you hadn’t landed on your ass, even as the napkins went everywhere. “Sorry, that was my- wait, Bee?”

The nickname from your younger years was exclusively reserved for close family and friends. Shortened over time from busy bee, a name your mom still wrote in your birthday and Christmas cards, because of the way you were always pursuing new activities with the kind of intense tenacity only found in the most precocious of kids.

Although, no one who’d known you squarely post-braces had ever called you that before. And definitely not anyone so solidly built with such a masculine, raspy voice.

But you knew those rich brown eyes and sun-streaked curls.

Just like you knew that under the soft looking linen blend shirt there’d be freckles dotted along his shoulder. Just like you knew that he was left-handed but preferred to throw a baseball with his right. Just like you knew he rode the Beach Blaster four times in a row that one time, not because he liked it, but because he was trying to get over his fear of heights.

“Bradley?” The right side of his mouth pulled up in a smile, seemingly pleased you recognized him. “Bradley Bradshaw?” you repeat, because even though he was standing less than three feet away from you, your brain was having a hard time processing the boy you’d known was now the man in front of you.

You hadn’t seen him since you were fifteen.

Although, you did try to look him up once in college when you and your roommates were tipsy off cheap sparkling wine and talking about first crushes. Giggling over poor choices and high-fiving over the ones who still Had It. Only when it was your turn, you’d found out pretty quick that he wasn’t on any socials- at least none that the four of you could sleuth out drunk on sheer determination and peach Andre. They’d let you have the rest of the bottle as a consolation prize when you’d all come up emptyhanded.

Bradley Bradshaw had remained a mystery to you, until that moment.

Gone was any trace of baby fat from his familiar face, replaced with a defined jaw and crinkles around the corners of his eyes. There were scars on his cheek and neck that hadn’t been there before, but the smile underneath that mustache was the same one from those summers all those years ago.

“It’s been a long time, huh?” Bradley said.

The only difference was the cute boy you’d known growing up was now quite possibly the most handsome man you’d ever seen.

“How’d you get even hotter?” you blurted. It only took a split second for your brain to catch up with your mouth, wincing at the words that hung in the air unable to take them back.

Bradley’s eyes widened in surprise just for a moment before he laughed. Loud and unguarded and amused.

Mortified and flustered you drop down to your knees to pick up the scattered brown craft paper wrapped bundles of napkins that littered the narrow hallway. His presence- and bulk- filling up the already small space.

He kneeled down next to you, helping to collect the packs. “I don’t know about ‘hotter’, but probably taller since that last time I saw you.” You couldn’t help but notice how big his hands were as he reached for the furthest one that was sent flying as victim of your two-person Big Bang.

And broader, you think.

“We’ve been doing a lot of push-ups lately,” Bradley chuckled, “I keep telling the squad to stop underestimating the old man, but they never learn. They’re still just as competitive as ever.”

“Jesus,” you muttered under your breath, needing a rock to crawl under. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt that ruffled around a man before. So caught off guard that all semblance of casually cool had left the building. You looked at him from the corner of your eye, and attempted to diffuse the situation with some self-deprecating humor, “Well, I wish second puberty had been as kind to me as it was for you.”

“From what I can see, it looks like it was pretty damn kind to you too.”

You’d pressed your lips together and fought back grin as you shook your head, reaching for another bundle. The last thing you’d needed was for him to be charming too.

You felt his gaze on the side of your face, like he was trying to catch your eye, and when you couldn’t avoid it any further without making it weird you met those warmer than cinnamon brown eyes.

“It’s good to see you again.” There was an earnest smile still in place on his face as he passed you the napkins he’d collected from his side of the hall.

He looked at you- probably the same way you’d been looking at him only a couple moments ago- trying to reconcile the carefree girl with the stunned woman in front of him, seeing what changes could be picked out on a face that hadn’t been seen in over a decade. You didn’t dare call it interest that was flickering in his eyes, but you could safely say there was at least some curiosity reflected in them.

You knew he wasn’t flirting, just trying to make you feel better less awkward about your earlier slip. Playing along the same way he did when he’d sabotage your brother at the water gun war game at Belmont Park so that you could stand a chance at winning a stuffed animal prize.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you replied, meaning it as you gave him a smile of your own for the first time and watching as his own grew a little wider.

“Bee? Did you find them? The napkins should be-” Penny came rounding the corner, taking in the scene in front of her and who you’d been delayed by. Your whole body jolted like she’d caught you playing 7 Minutes in Heaven instead of crouching on the floor. “Oh, I see you’ve found Rooster. And the napkins.”

“It was my bad, Penny, I plowed right into her,” Bradley- Rooster?- said standing back up, wrapping a hand under your elbow to help guide you up to your feet.

“Sorry, I’ll be right there,” you told her, gesturing with your napkin filled arms. He was quick to reach out and catch one of the slipping packs from the top of the pile before it could fall to the ground again, helping you to get them better situated and less like a Jenga stack waiting to collapse.

“There’s no rush. I just wanted to make sure you were finding everything alright.” Her eyes drifted back and forth between the two of you, before landing on him and flicking down to the hand still on your elbow. “Hey, since you’re here, would you mind grabbing a fresh keg of the Stone Brewing lager for me?”

He nodded, letting go of you and hooking his thumbs into his front pockets. “Sure thing, can do.”

“Thank you, Bradley. And Bee,” she continued, turning back to you, “You can just bring those up when you’re ready.” You didn’t know what to make of the smile she gave you before she’d set off back to the bar.

The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments, although it hadn’t been the uncomfortable kind.

Bradley cleared his throat, his mouth quirking to one side. “I feel like there’s some kind of ‘the birds and the bees’ joke here. One I’m not qualified to make since you were always the funnier one of the two of us.”

That time it was your turn to laugh. You were more than a little pleased when his deeper one mixed with yours.

You warred with yourself- still holding those damn napkins- whether or not to wrap things up and go take them to Penny, but you wanted to know more.

“Rooster?” you’d asked, tilting your head at him in question.

“Believe it or not, I finally got past that fear of heights,” he explained, “I’m a pilot now.” You felt your smile grow on its own, it was something he’d always talked about. You were happy to learn he’d made it happen for himself. “Rooster is my callsign.”

It was a name you’d heard a few times since moving into the loft above the garage. The way Penny said it always made it seem like you should know who she was talking about, you just hadn’t taken a moment to ask, figuring that you’d meet this mysterious ‘Rooster’ eventually. You just never would have guessed you already knew him.

You told him as much, adding on, “Maybe she thought we’d kept in touch.”

“I would have liked that.” You ignored the fluttering low in your stomach. There was something in his voice that made your mouth go a little dry. “What’re you doing later? Are you here for long? I’d like to catch up, if you have time for an old friend.”

Friend.

The word shook you out of whatever Bradley Bradshaw induced haze you’d found yourself in.

You didn’t know how long you were going to be here, but one thing was for sure, all the two of you were ever going to be was platonic. It was a necessary reminder before any coconut sunscreen scented daydreams tempted you off course.

A smile stayed plastered to your face, one that felt more forced than it had been a few heartbeats ago, “I’m behind the bar until midnight, but I’ll be your friendly neighborhood bartender for the foreseeable future.”

Bradley grinned. “Guess, I’ll be seeing you around then, Bee.”

“I guess you will, Rooster.”

And you did.

You went from not seeing Bradley Bradshaw for over a decade to seeing him multiple times a week.

He kept you company at the bartop, swiveling on his stool, on slow nights as you found little projects to keep yourself occupied, like polishing and reorganizing the Hard Deck’s glassware collection. Filling each other in on the important things and people that had helped shaped the two of you into the adults that you’d grown into.

Rooster introduced you to his friends and teammates, making you feel not only included but liked you belonged in that same way he had when you were kids. Seamlessly bringing up common interests you shared with the people closest to him, giving you something to connect with them on your own outside of him. Always taking the initiative to extend invites your way to hang out at the beach or to check out the best spot for breakfast or to experience a Padres game complete with an unofficial culinary food tour of Petco Park.

He helped you paint the kitchenette in the loft a soft blue- with your aunt’s permission, of course. Meticulously taping off the countertop edges and cabinets, yet somehow ending up wearing more paint on an old, tightfitting UVA shirt that had seen better days than he got on the wall.  

And on Sunday nights he was seated across from you at the oak dining table with Amelia, Penny, and Pete for the weekly dinner the five of you all had together. They’d been back together for over a year now, and it seemed like it was for good this time based on the way they looked at each other. Your aunt was noticeably happier than she’d been even just a few years ago, that spark back that had been dimmed from an unhappy marriage.

You were happy for her and Mav.

He’d even taken you for a spin on his motorcycle. It was a one and done event, reaffirming what you already knew, that you were more of a four-wheel girl than a two-wheel one.

When you weren’t at the bar or working on the few remote side gigs you’d taken on to keep your skills feeling fresh, you were helping Amelia learn to code. It wasn’t your forte, but you were having fun spending time with her and teaching her what you did know. And in return, she’d help you to revamp your wardrobe a bit. You thought California cool looked good on you.

There had been a brief moment when you’d been packing up your old apartment when you’d worried about being lonely in San Diego not knowing anyone outside of your family, but you were the furthest thing from lonely and you had Bradley to thank for that.

It was nice to have friend.

However, you were finding that crush on him harder to get over than you anticipated.

You still get annoyed at yourself when he smiles at you a certain way making your cheeks heat up and your stomach flip. Although, you try not to be too hard on yourself because he’s genuinely kind and good looking and you’re only human. God knows you’ve seen enough people notice him too from your perch behind the bar.

But there were worse problems to have.

You had spent that morning getting the Hard Deck decorated for the big New Year’s Eve party.

As the first to arrive, you’d gotten the coffee going on the ancient coffee maker that you were trying your hardest to get Penny to replace when a big hand skimmed the side of your waist, reaching past you to steal the cup you’d just poured for yourself.

You turned to see a sleepy looking Bradley standing behind you, his curled looked more like they were fresh off his pillow than the way you usually saw them styled.

“It’s too early for this.” You watched as he took a big swig from the cup, wincing as he registered just how hot Jimmy’s machine had brewed the coffee, just a couple degrees below scalding.

You gave him an unimpressed look, “Says the man who routinely wakes up at 5am for a sunrise run.”

“It’s the weekend, Bee,” Bradley said like it explained everything.

“It’s a Wednesday.”

“Schematics.” He took another deep sip of your coffee, but not before you caught the mischievous way his mouth was curved upwards. “Everyone knows the days between Christmas and New Years Day are the Wild West of the calendar year, every day is a weekend day from the 26th to the 1st.”

You actually hadn’t seen Rooster since Christmas.

You’d decided to spend the holiday in San Diego since your parents had decided this was the year they were finally going to check out the Christmas markets in Europe like they’ve always wanted too. And you didn’t want to crash your brother’s first Christmas as a dad, instead you’d sent the most obnoxious baby toy you could find online in addition to a silky soft stuffed rabbit with your niece’s name embroidered on the ear.

When you opened the front door with the pretty stained glass sailing boat picture window, you’d been surprised to see Bradley standing there with a white faux fur trimmed Santa hat and holding a bag with unexpectedly well wrapped presents in one hand and a creamy, cranberry-colored pie in the other.

Your hand stayed glued to the doorknob as his eyes trailed over you. The house had been warm but a shiver still worked its way through your body as he took in your festive pajamas.

Before he could say anything Amelia ever-so-helpfully pointed out the mistletoe you’d conveniently forgotten about that had been hung above the wood door. Frankly, she sounded a bit too enthusiastic about it.

He mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like little punk, although his tone was so affectionate that you thought you must have misheard him. But you didn’t get to think on it for too long because then he was leaning in, in, in.

Your heart shot straight into your throat at the first prickle of his mustache and then the slightly dry lips as they brushed against your cheek for the briefest of moments.

And then he pulled away all too soon.

Friend. Friend. Friend. You tried to remind yourself, but your heart was too aflutter to get the message.

He looked you straight in the eyes as he stepped back, “Can you do me a favor, Bee?”

You must have made a sound that was close enough to an mhm, because then he passed you the bag of presents and the pie waiting only long enough to make sure you had a good hold on them both before darting around you to chase after Amelia.

Amelia squealed when Bradley caught her, ducking his head down to drop a playfully chaotic kiss on her cheek.

He ended up giving Penny and Mav the same treatment too. Although Pete shoved him away good-naturedly when he tried to plant a particularly sloppy one on him.

All while your feet stayed glued to the same spot they were when he kissed you.

But that was six days ago. Probably the longest stint without seeing him since you collided with him that afternoon a few months ago.

The smell of strong coffee and cinnamon had coaxed you back into the moment, and you’d shook your head a bit like that would help you clear your mind with Bradley standing so close to you again.

“I don’t think it’ll take us too long,” you declared, trying to get focused back on the task at hand- that being the unofficial head of the NYE decorating committee, “I even made us a schedule.”

“Of course you did. Is it color-coded?” he asked over the rim of the chipped mug.

“And if it is?” you countered, unashamed of your planning. And then there was that damn smile of his.

“Then I’m really going to need this coffee,” he winked, and poured you a cup of your own.

You’d been right though. With everyone pitching in things came together rather quickly.

The morning moving steadily as the Christmas decorations were replaced with classic the gold and white and black color scheme you’d went with for the party. The silver tinsel tree covered in beach themed shaped ornaments with a few planes hung about by the front door might have stood out at odds with everything else, but metallic was a neutral in your book so you’d opted to keep the cheerful tree up just a little bit longer and tucked a few party blowers into the branches to tie it in with the rest of the space.

It was easy for you to get in the zone, delegating and divvying up the tasks on your color-coded schedule, putting all your project tracking skills to use. There were dozens of strands of string lights that had to gone up on the ceiling and along the walls. All of the windows with the snowflake cut outs you and Amelia had made for Christmas were framed in a metallic fringe. There was a station with hats and headbands and glasses in case anyone was feeling particularly festive. The tables and booths had been stocked with noise makers and confetti poppers in addition to the mirrorball centerpieces and confetti scatter.

Everything sparkled and shined, the light bouncing off everything gave the bar a wonderfully hazy glow, it was the perfect ambiance for the most hopeful night of the year.

At one point, you’d been working on hanging up some dangling golden stars from one of the ceramic mug rounders only to find Bradley standing there at the base of the ladder behind you with a well-defined arm stretched out just in case you lost balance.

And then just like that, your focus went out the window. Because then he was everywhere. He made it impossible for you to not notice him, especially since so many of your jobs and his overlapped, something you’d come to regret more and more as the hours went by.

You’d been working on tying off balloons and lamenting the fact you didn’t order another pump with the tying tool, when you’d decided to take a break to massage your numb fingertips. You looked up to check the progress made with fresh eyes, to see Rooster on a ladder helping Mav to get the netting set up for the balloon drop.

The athletic shorts he’d been wearing were hanging low on his hips. And as he reached up to hand Pete another nail it caused his t-shirt to ride up giving you a glimpse of toned stomach and tantalizing v-lines. It was just as tempting as it was taunting.

You’d switched to ice water after that.

The image was seared into your mind for the rest of the afternoon. Not even the freezing cold shower you’d hopped into the second you made it back to your loft to freshen up before the party had helped. Neither had the rushed orgasm to take the edge off, because it wasn’t your own fingers that you wanted.

He’d found you before the party well and truly started.

You’d been double checking all the prep, making sure you had the bar stocked up as was possible without losing any valuable space, when you felt a hand on your back. Bradley was dressed up in a navy suit that fit him in all the right places, looking more handsome than you knew possible. All broad shoulders and thick thighs. The top button of his pristinely pressed white shirt undone, giving you a peek at the divot base of his throat.

You weren’t sure what made you more flustered, that hint of his neck or the skin under his bellybutton that you’d seen only a couple hours ago.

A soft smile coasted over his face as he took in your New Years’ Eve finest. “You look-”

“I know, rhinestones for New Years’ Eve, how groundbreaking,” you joked, cutting him off and giving your best Miranda Priestly impression.

You were wearing a black velvet jumpsuit for the party. You loved the way it fit the curves of your body and the way the halter top made your collarbones and shoulders look. There was just a hint of skin with the keyhole near the bust. But it was also practical- right down to your plain black no-show panties you had on- so you could move easily without worrying about giving anyone an eyeful. It wasn’t the flashiest of outfits, there’d be more than enough sequins later on, but the way Bradley was looking at you made it feel like your off the rack might as well be haute couture.

“I was going to say, you look good. Really good.” Bradley takes his time letting his eyes drag down your body, his cheek kicking up when he lands on your shoes. “I especially like the birks, they tie the whole look together.”

The clogs you were wearing were decidedly unsexy, not many people could pull of the potato shoe, but you weren’t there as a party guest, you still had work to do and your night was just getting started. “I don’t think stilettos and stouts would mix together very well,” you said by way of explanation.

Bradley chuckled and reached out taking an end of the little rhinestone bow that dangled from right beneath your neck where the straps met and twirled it between his fingers for a moment. “I think this might be my favorite part though,” he rasps lowly. There was an intensity in his eyes directed at you that you hadn’t seen before.

For a moment it looked like he was about to say more, and then a glass shattered.

The sound of it caused you to crash back into your body.

“And so it begins,” you announced, taking a half step backwards and out of his touch, that rhinestone cord falling back against your sternum with a gentle thud that you felt reverberate in your chest.

You heard him say your name, but you were already setting off for a broom.

So you’d kept your head down and your hands busy.

It felt like for every drink you made, two more were ordered. Barely noticing as the final minutes of this year flew by while you garnished drinks with bright cherries and slices of lemon with a flourish before handing them off.

Offering smiles and well wishes to those here to celebrate. True to your namesake as you swiped cards and counted bills and mixed and poured and served the drinks to the ever-rotating people in front of you.

You made eye contact with Rooster a couple times throughout the night, the same way you usually did when you were behind the bar and he was there. Eyes drawn to him like a magnet against your will.

He hadn’t come up to you at all since before the party started. You’d seen him with the Daggers when you went to refill the water tank, heard the keys of the upright piano when you grabbed more ice from the back room, saw him talking with the girl in the shiny dress and her interested eyes as you put the freshly washed glasses away.

Just like he’d been the best parts of your San Diego summers, he’d become the best part of your year.

You’d spent the last four months trying to convince yourself that it was a silly crush, that you could will it away or get over it. But now just a couple moments shy of a new year barreling towards you, it was time to face the fact that Bradley Bradshaw wasn’t someone you were ever going to get over.

Although if you were honest with yourself, you weren’t sure you wanted to get over him.

You’re giving the counter a quick wipe down, taking advantage of the brief lull when the music cuts off, startling you out of your thoughts.

Twelve!

The countdown had snuck up on you. Just like everything else had this year.

Eleven!

You’d had your fill of unexpected surprises, some for the worse and some for the better. While it felt like you’d had more downs than ups, you were ending the year feeling the most content you have since you were laid off. And that was more than good enough for you.

Ten!

At the beginning of this year, you never would have guessed that you’d end it in San Diego. This year had taken from you, but it had also given you a lot. New friends, new places to explore, new memories, new hopes.

Nine!

You were still figuring things out and that was ok. Even though you still weren’t sure what was next for you, you knew everything would work out. One way or another you’d find yourself on the other side of this and able to look back with pride for making it through all the challenges that had been thrown your way.

Eight!

And while things didn’t shape out the way you anticipated them to, with goals still yet to be achieved and a vision board of ideas that you’d carry into the new year, you had so much to be grateful for.

Seven!

You liked San Diego- and not in the just-for-now way. You liked the life you were building here. You liked the beach and the sand and the sun. You liked you Sunday dinners with Penny and Amelia and Pete. You liked the people you were surrounded by. You liked the stories you’ve collected from your side of the bar. You liked the diner down the road with their perfectly shaped coffee cups. You liked your new normal while you got your feet back under you. You liked the potential you felt was here.

Six!

And then there was Bradley.

Five!

You were avoiding looking in his direction, too worried about what you might see, not wanting to end this year with another disappointment. You’ve come to accept that he had a piece of you that you weren’t sure you were ever going to get back. But that was something for you to deal with next year.

Four!

For now, you are right where you are supposed to be.

Three!

Because what is meant for you will never pass you by. Not in life and not in love. And that was something you could count on, something you could hold onto.

Two!

You smile to yourself and close your eyes.

The crowd chants One!

You breathe out and let go.

And when the cheers of Happy New Year! ring out, you breathe in and open your heart up to all the possibilities.

Enjoying the moment for what it was- exactly as it was- as the party noise makers started going off all around you.

As New Years’ kisses were traded.

As people greeted a fresh, bright New Year with wide-open and welcoming arms.

Where anything could happen.

Where anything was possible because the year was waiting to written.

You tip your head back and open your eyes, watching as the balloons you’d spent the afternoon tying knots in started to fall, slowly at first and then more until your view was a cocoon of black and gold and white and clear blocking out the rest of the world from view.

Time seemed to slow a bit as the confetti poppers joined the mix adding to the echo of fireworks going off nearby. The glints of gold and little shiny dots of sparkles and streamers seemed to hang in the air. There was a cacophony of cheerful noises, from the poppers to the people to the familiar sound of Whitney Houston being piped over the static-y speakers.

A moment of magic for you and you alone, as you pocketed the hope and optimism you felt rippling around you.

Over the next couple of hours pass just as swiftly as before. As you got back into the groove of serving people, your brain snagged on the sound of Aud Land Syne being played on the upright piano at the other end of the bar, and the only person it could be playing it.

It wasn’t long before people steadily started to trickle out the front door.

You’d made sure to shoo Penny out to the dance floor with Pete as the lineup of people slowed down enough for her to have some New Years Eve fun.

No one had gone too crazy, but even so, you helped arranged people rides to get home safe between closing out tabs and announcing the last call for the few people who wanted to stick it out until the very end. Waving to your new friends as they all slowly but surely made their exits.

You’d lost track of Rooster along the way, it would have been nice to wish him a Happy New Year, but it was probably for the best. It was easier on your heart to not know whether he left with some of the Daggers or with the girl with the silver sequins.

You just locked the door after the last couple stragglers had left for the night. You’d sent Penny away a little over a half an hour ago- along with Mav- since there’d been only a handful of people to look after.

She’d made you promise not to stay behind after locking up, but you didn’t see the harm in tidying things up a bit more. You were collecting the empty glasses that had been scattered about and abandoned on window ledges and tables when you caught a figure out of the corner of your eye, nearly causing you to drop the bus tub you were holding on to.

“Bradley! Jesus.” You set the plastic tub down on a table with more force than necessary, the glasses rattling against each other, and press a hand to your chest where your heart is rapidly knocking about. “What are you still doing here?”

You figured he left already, so you’re more than a little surprised he’s still here. And not just because he startled you half to death.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes, putting his hands up. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you, I was taking out some trash and then got held up talking to Jake for a few minutes. I didn’t realize everyone else had left.”

“I just locked the front doors,” you say, waving towards the now closed front door.

Bradley takes a cautious step closer. “So, it’s just us then?” He doesn’t even have the decency to look like he’s been partying for the better part of five hours, he looks just as handsome as he did at the start of the evening, whereas you’re sure you probably look as ruffled as you felt.

“We’re the last two standing,” you confirm, putting your hands on your lower back to stretch out the tightness that had settled along your spine over the course of the night, “But just barely, on my end.”

“You’ve been busy tonight.” You hum in agreement and reach for a foam-covered glass that was left between the coaster holder and napkin dispensers. His big hand closing around it first and he pins you with a look, leaning a hip against the table, “So tell me, why are you still cleaning when you and I both know for a fact Penny hired a crew to take care of this in the morning?”

You don’t have an answer for him, at least, not one you were willing to share. That even though the ball had dropped and the confetti had fallen you weren’t ready to have the night be over yet. Knowing that the moment you locked up for good and got in your car and headed home, that the bottle of champagne you’d bought for yourself and plans with Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal wouldn’t hit quite the way you’d hope it would.

Instead, you offer him a shrug.

Bradley’s eyes search yours for a moment before he gives you a gentle smile. “C’mon, busy bee, I think you’ve more than earned yourself a glass of champagne.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to argue, already making his way towards the bar, not that you put up much of a fight. The ‘Greatest Hits’ playlist that Penny had queued up for the night is still playing in the background, you recognize opening notes of The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” as you trail after him.

You lift an eyebrow as he pulls out a stool for you, but he just mirrors you by lifting one of his own and gestures to the seat. You think you feel his thumb sweep over your hip as he helps you into the stool before stepping into the front bar. A little sigh of relief slips out of you, finally off your feet for the first time all night.

You’re tired, but it’s a happy kind of tired. You’d had a nice time all things considering. Seeing the bright faces of everyone tonight had made all the work you’d put in feel worth it, all the planning and prep and decorating made it worth it if tonight ended up being a fond memory for someone.

Bradley grins at you from over his shoulder mischievously, “You know, Penny’s never let me behind the bar before.” He says it so conspiratorially, like he’s getting away with something and you’re an eyewitness to his delinquency, as if he wasn’t a decorated golden boy of the United States Navy.  

You laugh, endeared by the boyish smile on his face. “Probably because you’re never wearing the right shoes,” you tease, wiggling a clog towards him.

And he chuckles, warm and affectionate.

Rooster finds the freshly washed glasses easily- Pete had done a great job as the designated dishwasher of the evening, loading and unloading glasses as quickly as they came with speedy efficiency. You see as his hand hesitates for a moment eyeing the already open bottle of champagne on the counter warily, and you point a glossy cranberry coated fingernail to the fridge under the counter, where you knew a few uncorked ones were still stocked knowing that Penny won’t mind if you pilfer a celebratory bottle to share between yourselves.

With your help he finds the chilled bottle and shoots the cork across the room with a cheerful pop! You make a mental note to pick it up later marking the spot in your mind, which he must notice because he says, knowingly, “Don’t worry, I’ll grab it later. You’re officially off the clock.”

He pours you a glass and then one for himself with a flourish, clearly showing off as the bubbles fizz to the top of the rim without spilling over. You’ve spent all night catering to everyone else, it’s nice to have someone looking out for you now.

Rooster holds out a glass for you, “Cheers, Bee.”

You smile and clink yours against his.

The bubbles burst across your tongue, refreshing and crisp. The two of you sip on your glasses of champagne in companionable silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm after a busy day and busier night.

“Did you have a nice time tonight, Bradley?”

“It was nice enough, I guess,” he says, giving you a half smile, “I’m having a much better time now though.”

You take another little sip, attributing the fluttering in your chest to the bubbles.

“It feels weird to be sitting on this side of the bar,” you muse, changing the subject, “You know, I don’t think I made you a drink at all tonight.”

He takes the bottle and pours you a little more. “People kept hogging my favorite bartender.”

You grin into your glass.

“I would have made time for you,” you say.

He leans down and fold his arms in front of him, so that your faces are level. “You would have?”

The answer comes easily. “Of course.”

Bradley gives you a look you don’t know how to interpret, like reading your face isn’t enough that he wants to know what’s going on inside of your head. You always kind of thought your cards had been on the table the whole time, but maybe you’d been keeping them closer to your chest than you’d realized.

“It was nice of you to make sure Penny and Mav got out on the dancefloor earlier.”

“You saw that?” It hadn’t been an easy feat, but it had been worth it to see them looking at each other in a way you hoped you’d find someday.

His gaze is steady when he replies, “I did.”

Flustered now, you feel your cheeks heat up. “Amelia and I had a bet about if he was going to propose tonight, and I thought I’d do my part to try and help her win twenty dollars. I didn’t think he would, at least not here in front of a crowd of people, but I hope he’ll do it soon.”

He nods, taking a sip of his own, the tips of his ears getting red.

You lean forward on your elbows, “Tell me what you know, Bradshaw.”

“I’m a vault,” he says, shaking his head.

“Does he have a ring?” you ask, elatedly.

Bradley takes another deep sip of champagne, giving you nothing, at least not with his words. But you don’t need him to confirm, not with the way his lips are turned up, clearly happy for his uncle and your aunt.

Good, you smile to yourself, that’s good.

“I also happened to notice that you didn’t get to dance at all tonight.”

“No, I didn’t.” You could have. Penny had tried to get you to take a few minutes to enjoy yourself, but you kept finding excuses to stay planted where you were. “There’s always next year,” you add, circling your finger around the base of your champagne glass.

Bradley steps out from behind the bar and takes the half full glass from your hand, setting it on top of a coaster in a move that you find entirely too appealing.  And holds out a hand out for you, “We should fix that.”

His large fingers wrap around your hand- strong and sure- as he guides you towards the old jukebox, the two of you walking over the confetti covered floor and though the sea of balloons that bobbed in your wake.

He lets go when the two of you have reached the middle of the makeshift dancefloor that had been cleared of the tables that were normally there for the night. Your feet stay put as he makes his way to the sticker covered jukebox and starts flipping through the options.

“I keep trying to get Penny to get a new one that takes a card,” you say nervously, filling the quiet, the air now charged with something new between the two of you. “Or one with an app, where people could pay and pick things from their phone.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he teases playfully, still scanning through the CDs, clearly on a mission to find a particular song.

“She keeps a couple spare quarters on the ledge behind it- but uhm- I’m not sure if they’re still there or not, or if people have already used them. I could grab some from the register-”

You take a half step back, but Rooster stops you.

“Don’t go flying away, Bee.” He pulls out his wallet from the inside of his suit jacket and fishes out a couple coins, holding them out on his flattened palm for you to see. “You see, I’ve been saving these ones for just the right girl.”

You didn’t know your heart could beat so fast.

Bradley slips them into the machine with a metallic plink, once and then twice. The corner of his mouth pulls up as his eyes drift over you. “Yeah, you’re definitely an N24 kind of girl.”

He punches in the code and walks purposefully back to you.

The gentle sound of an acoustic guitar crackles to life over the old speaker system of the Hard Deck, the song much slower than you were anticipating. The opening notes are familiar ones to you, but different than what you were used to hearing. This rendition was delicate and atmospheric. Intimate. Almost like the music was wearing its heart on its sleeve.

Bradley wraps an arm around you and pulls you in. His eyes are heavy on yours, you feel the weight of them everywhere. He coaxes your hand onto his broad shoulder and takes the other one in his, drawing it to his chest.

He holds you close as he leads you in a dance.

No one has ever looked at you the way he is looking at you.

“Ask me about my night again,” he murmurs, invitingly.

You swallow. “Did you have a nice time earlier tonight?”

“No.” Your breath stutters in your chest and you miss a step, but he easily guides you through it. “No,” he repeats, “I didn’t because I couldn’t spend it with the only person I want to.”

Your voice has escaped you, not that you’d trust it not to completely give you away.

“This is the part where you ask me how it’s going now.” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand, encouragingly.

“This doesn’t feel very friendly,” you whisper.

Bradley presses you even closer to him. Every part of you is touching him, and you’re warm everywhere. “That’s good,” he rasps, “Because I’m not really going for just ‘friendly’ here, honey.”

You see everything there plain as day, written all over his face.

All you can say is his name.

“Bradley.”

And he says yours in return, so gently like it’s precious to him.

“I kept hoping you’d look my way during the countdown. But then you looked so thoughtful and all I wanted was to see that moment through your eyes. I couldn’t look away, you’re so beautiful.”

Feeling brave, you slide your hands up his chest and around his neck, combing your fingers through the short hair at the base of his head. He hums, pleased and content.

“You didn’t get a New Years Eve kiss.” It’s a statement. Like he knows because he was paying attention.

Your stomach swoops, and it’s like you’re fifteen and riding the Giant Dipper again.

“Neither did you, it seems.” His eyes drop down to your mouth.

“No, I didn’t,” he confirms, raising a hand up and skimming his thumb along your lower lip. “But now I’ve got a whole year to practice.

Bradley brings both hands to cup your face. His eyes traveling from your eyes to your nose to your mouth, a soft smile on his face as he leans in to kiss you.

When his lips meet yours it’s like time stops. You can’t hear the music over the rushing in your ears or the beating of your heart. In that moment, all there is only Bradley.

There’s no hesitation in the way his mouth moves against yours. Or in the way his teeth grazes your lower lip, right before he follows it with his tongue. It’s as if he has played this moment in his head so many times before.

Like there was never a question in his mind about if it was ever going to happen, but when.

There’s a surety in his touch, in the way he cradles your face in his big hands, in the way he angles your head just right.

The way Bradley kisses you makes you feel like this is the moment he’s been waiting for the whole night.

That it’s the moment he’s been waiting the last four months for.

His kiss is sweet like cinnamon and you know you’ll never be the same now that you’ve had a taste of it.

Your first one of the year. And it belongs to Bradley Bradshaw. Just as you always hoped it would be.

He pulls away just enough to skim his lips teasingly against yours. “Happy New Year, Bee.”

“Happy New Year, Bradley.”

You grin and he dips back down to kiss you again.

Time ticks on, but this time there isn’t a countdown. Only his mouth against yours and your arms wrapped around his neck.

After a while, he pulls away again, looking entirely and thoroughly kissed. It’s a good look for him.

He smiles at you. “My mom used to believe in ‘beginning as you mean to go on’. Taking time on the first of a new year and doing something that you want to make a part of your year going forward,” he says, stroking your cheek with his thumb, “So if you’re up for it, honey, I’d like to take you out to breakfast at that 24-hour diner. Because I mean to go on with you this year and the next one after that if I’m lucky.”

“I’d like that,” you say, taking a snapshot of this moment and the way those warm, brown eyes are gazing at you. “Just as long as we leave some time for mine. I have an idea of how I’d like to ‘begin as I mean to go on’.”

“Yeah? What did you have in mind?”

You don’t answer, instead you just lean in close until you feel his smile pressed against your.

The two of you eventually lock up for the night, for good this time. But only after Bradley finally stops kissing you long enough to grab that cork he’d shot across the bar earlier, pretending not to see the way he tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket.

He takes your hand in his warm one, his fingers slipping easily between yours like he’s done it hundreds of times before.

The sunrise is still a couple of hours away, but you can see the promise of dawn and all the possibilities it’ll bring.

Bradley turns his head back to look at you and grins, it’s wide enough that the corners of his eyes crinkle.

A new day, a new year.

And you can’t help but think that this really will be the best one yet.

Happy 2025, tgm friends! I hope this is your year! Thank you for reading!

And a big thank you to Jordan ( @gretagerwigsmuse) for all the support and encouragement and general woogirling over Bradley Bradshaw!

If you want to know what song Bradley played for Bee 🥰

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken  @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

[bekkathyst]

I'm gonna say this and I'm gonna mean it in all sincerity from a longtime follower: I'm really glad you're so open with how things have been since you moved to Austria. On one hand, I do feel like I'm not only supporting a business I have for ages and feel good about that and I'm also supporting folks I care about online into being able to have a good life. And on the other I'm glad, because if you didn't mention the bad stuff I would probably 100% believe you guys moved into the middle of Europe and immediately escaped all the evils of capitalism and integrated into a gorgeous place with lots of history and folklore and ability to forage (!!!!!!!) and I would be so jealous I would possibly die. So either way I'm happy to keep buying your crystals, and also while I am very jealous but I probably won't die of it. Please give your daughter a hug from me, and your husband a high five. :D

Ah 😭 this is really sweet and I’m going to try not to ramble too long but I feel like this is a good thing to discuss, especially right now.

The first couple months of moving here were an insane contrast of like the happiest I’ve ever been in my life and the most stressed out knowing that one wrong move meant we’d have to give it all up and move somewhere else or lose the ability to be together. The immigration process I’ve had to go through to be with my husband anywhere is difficult but it was harder here than what we dealt with in the US only because this is the place we REALLY wanted to be and it was terrifying thinking the chance to be here could just be ripped away. But of course at the same time I was seeing family I hadn’t seen in a decade or longer, I was getting to really connect with my ancestors, be immersed in the culture, forage in the way I’d been longing to do for my entire life, and all the rest. I feel like because of this I just blinked and now somehow it’s been two years.

The nature here is my favorite, and I honestly wouldn’t trade it for anything. But Austria is far from perfect. There’s racism, xenophobia, the bureaucracy has made me question my sanity, some of the social culture really sucks, my business is deeply struggling and I wonder if we can make it due to how high fees and other taxes are, and I will ALWAYS have criticisms for any government I live under lol. Living somewhere very different from where I spent most of my life is really isolating and I feel lonely a lot. And I’m sure however I feel, it’s even harder for Antonio.

But like I said in my post, in the end, this is worth it for us. It’s so hard BUT we get to watch our daughter grow up somewhere where she can have healthcare and a good education and swim in lakes and hike mountains and make so many friends!! Omg she has so many friends. 🥹 and I now have healthcare too for the first time in my life which is really just in time for me to get diagnosed with a bunch of chronic illnesses that I’d never be able to get any help for in the US. And now my husband also has the chance for the first time in his life to pretty much travel anywhere he wants to which is amazing for him.

It must be quite obvious that these are all feelings I’ve been holding in for some time lol. But I can’t believe what lovely human beings follow me on here and support us especially after so long! It’s been almost 12 years since I started all of this and somehow I’m still doing it. Wow. Incredible.

I love you 😭❤️

And here’s evidence of the passed on high five 😆

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

near the start of the essay ooooough this hits hard

(edit) a few more things i wanted to pull out:

(alt text in image description)

basically, supporting trans people means supporting trans men and that means you have to shift your paradigm to fit men into feminism. there's not an alternative

Is there a term for that phenomenon that happens when people tell transmen/transmascs not to go on testosterone/not to try to look more masculine because it'll make them ugly/fat/hairy/bald/whatever negative thing?

I know it's not transmisandry, but does it have a name or is it just general transphobia?

I mean surely that's not NOT transphobia? but I'm also not, like, in charge of how transmasculine people talk about stuff so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[jellymochii]

My Angel

♱ pairings: Guardian Angel!Felix x F!Reader

♱ genre: fluff, angst, smut

♱ cw: smut, cunnilingus, religious themes, mentions of abuse/foster care system.

♱ wc: 4.1k

↪author's note: Hiya! I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors or if it seems rushed, I'm still a new author so any feedback is greatly appreciated! Hope you enjoy :)

**THIS IS PURELY A WORK OF FICTION AND DOES NOT REFLECT THE TRUE NATURE OF THE PEOPLE MENTIONED**

*Abrahamic-denoting any or all of the religions (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) that revere Abraham, the Biblical patriarch.

_______________

An angel's task was always difficult, yet fulfilling. Serving at the right hand of the Lord and doing everything possible to assist humans in gaining access into heaven. Some angels, however, we're granted one of the most difficult tasks of all– becoming a guardian to a human.

The tradition of every abrahamic* Religion states that at birth, a guardian angel is assigned to the human, overseeing the physical and spiritual protection of that individual, as well as encouraging them through various methods to turn back to God. While it can be a daunting task for many, especially the angels who were assigned reckless and bold humans, it was overall a beautiful and rewarding experience for many of the angels, watching their little humans grow and live life to their fullest. 

While it was quite normal for angels to grow quite fond of their little beings, and even experience love for them, becoming in love with them was something that was forbidden entirely, as it represented otherworldly and ungodly desires and lust not suited for the pure kingdom of God. This was something, of course, that a newer guardian angel would quickly learn.

_______________

Life would always find a way to kick you down, no matter how hard you tried to crawl your way back up. Not a single day in your life was free from pain, even on the day you were born.

Growing up in foster care was less than ideal, switching from house to house on a whim, leaving any friends you may have made in that town behind as you started fresh. Some of your foster parents and towns were much more pleasant than others, but living in a cycle of rejection of adoption from everyone led you to spend 18 years of your miserable life in the care of facilities and strangers. You were never wanted, not even by your own parents.

The only people you ever considered to be your true family were a pair of twins in the same boat as you, Hyunjin and Yeji. Much like you, the two never had any luck with getting adopted and struggled a lot with trusting others after what they'd been through, and yet, they welcomed you right in every time you found your way back to the facility after another failed fostering. Once all of you had turned 18, you collectively decided to scrape together moments from part time jobs and rent out a small apartment south of the city, where you'd been residing alongside the Hwang siblings for a while now.

Since the foster facility was highly faith-based, you were always subjected to weekly preachings and visits from the local pastor. He was kind, sure– but he always said that God had a path for all of us, and that everyone would find peace eventually, and that your guardian angel is always watching over you and protecting you. Despite listening intently every Sunday, that peace and protection from the world you were promised never seemed to make its way to you. You were cursed and cast out in the eyes of the Lord, left being the second option to everyone. There was no way in your eyes someone out there could truly love someone like you. And yet, you felt that there was someone out there who desired nothing more than you. It had to exist somewhere. Maybe somewhere, love was right next to you all along.

_________________

There you found yourself that day, umbrella in hand, taking the usual 10 minute commute to your part time job. The pouring downfall certainly wasn't ideal for walking in, but you trudged through nonetheless, passing through familiar streets that were usually bustling with life at this time of day. It felt quiet, unusually quiet. 

As you're about to place your headphones on, hoping to drown out the sound of pouring rain around you, a loud THUD coming from behind a coffee shop quickly grabbed your attention. Normally, you wouldn't give it a second thought. It could just be the usual raccoon rummaging through the dumpster, but something didn't feel quite right. Why did you feel so compelled to stop in your tracks and investigate? Perhaps it was a natural wave of curiosity or something compelling you to walk towards the source of the sound. As your feet dragged you towards the narrow alleyway, you felt something stronger than any rummaging dumpster critter could possibly make you feel, almost as if you were being pulled by a string of fate to peek behind the rundown bricks of the shop.

What you didn't expect to see, however, was a man with large wings rubbing his head in pain sitting on top of piled garbage bags in a dumpster.

You froze in your tracks at the sight as your mind raced. What the fuck was going on? Was your brain playing tricks on you again? Was this a lucid dream of sorts? Who is this guy?

The man’s eyes met yours, suddenly snapping out from his pained and confused state as his eyes widened as his face turned into a state of shock.

“Uhhh, Y/N, can you see me?” He said hesitantly.

Who is this guy? You thought. How does he know my name? And most importantly, how big are those fucking wings? Are they real?

“Who are you? How do you even know my name?!” You shouted, taking steps back out of fear.

“Wait...you CAN see me? Is this real?” The mysterious man questioned as he took notice of his large wings wrapped around him, now covered in dirt and torn white cloth from his attire. 

Admittedly, he was extremely beautiful. Warm brown eyes, long golden hair, and sun-kissed skin lathered in a constellation of frekels. Not to mention, the once delicate white fabric wrapped around his muscular arms.

“That doesn't answer my question, who are you and what's with the giant wings?” You retorted.

He paused for a moment as if contemplating his next thought.

“Felix...yeah, I'm Felix. I'm your guardian angel, Y/N.”

“My...what?” You questioned.

He hopped down from the garbage bags he sat on and approached you slowly. Every neuron in your mind was screaming at you to run away, to call for help, but your feet kept you planted as he crept forward, his hand gently cupping your face.

“I’m from the Kingdom of Heaven, I've been with you since the moment you were born, and God... you are so beautiful.” He spoke softly as he wrapped his arms and wings around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

Your mind still couldn't wrap around the fact that a gorgeous man in a dumpster with comically large wings was hugging you like his life depended on it. You felt your nostrils flare up as a stray feather from his wing fell on top of your nose, as your face twitched.

“AH-CHOO!” You sneezed. Okay, maybe the wings were real.

He quickly pulled back from you after the sneeze. “Oh, sorry about these, let me just-” he said as he quickly retracted his wings, almost making them vanish into thin air.

“So.” You said. “If you're really my guardian angel, and you're really from heaven, then why are you here?

“It's...a long story. I made a bit of a mistake, but hey- at least I'm here with you now!” He beamed.

“So then you've seen me this whole time? Everything I've gone through, and everything I've ever done?” You questioned, as you felt your cheeks flare with anger. How could he be real, and how could he let you suffer from rejection your whole life?

“Well, not everything you've ever done, most just the major ones-”

You cut him off quickly with a slap to the face.

“How could you ever let me go through hell and back?! You know all I ever wanted was to be loved, and yet you let me suffer?” You screamed, memories of the past flooding into your head.

Felix hunched over slightly, hand cupping his cheek from the sting you gave him. He crawled away slowly, like a rejected puppy, before he spoke.

“I really...tried my best Y/N. I know you've suffered so much, and it's my fault, really. I was still a young angel in heaven when you were born, and I got assigned to you. I felt every emotion you had and tried my best to keep you safe. It was for your own good...I promise.”

This was unbelievable to you. How was all of that for your own good? The countless lonely nights, praying to God that you'd finally get a loving family, only to be shut out and left to rot in the foster home until the cycle would repeat.

“My own good? How was any of this shit for my own good?! I suffered because of you, asshole!”

His heart shattered. You were everything to him, and yet it seemed like all his dedication to you was worthless.

“I'm done with this conversation, I need to get to work.” You declared as you began to walk back to the alleyway before a voice stopped you.

“Y/N...please. You can hate me forever, but just look at this, please?” He spoke with a whimper in his voice, holding up a soggy newspaper with 2 faces plastered on the front cover.

As much as you were frustrated, you decided to indulge him for once and take a look. The headline of the local paper issued in bold letters stated “BREAKING: FOSTER PARENTS ARRESTED FOR SERIAL CHILD NEGLECT AND ABUSE.” 

Once you actually saw the couple's faces, you felt the color in your face begin to fade. It was one of your foster couples. Your favorite one, in fact. The two seemed so sweet all those years ago, spoiling you with frequent gifts and homecooked meals that tasted amazing - it was the rejection that hurt the most because of how much it appeared like they loved you. Were they really monsters this whole time, and did Felix know about this?

Maybe you hadn't given him a fair chance.

“Did you know they were terrible people, Felix?” You asked, almost regretfully.

He nodded, head still tilted down in ache. 

“They were evil. They wanted to hurt you, I couldn't let them.”

“What about the rest of them, then? There were... some nice ones, I suppose.” You responded.

“No...none of them were ever good enough for you. They would never give you the life you deserved.”

You felt immense remove and guilt for the poor angel, covered in dirt and in pain from your harm. You'd heard so many horror stories from the Hwangs’ about cruel foster parents in and around the town, and maybe Felix was just doing his job. Maybe he did care.

“Hey, listen-uh, Felix. I'm sorry, I didn't know they were horrible. I shouldn't have slapped you.”

His head slowly rose, warm eyes locking into yours. “It's okay, Y/N. You didn't know. But man...I guess this is what pain feels like, huh?” He spoke as a smile crept back onto his face.

“Listen-forget work, okay? How about we just get a coffee or something.” You remarked.

“Oooh sounds fun! I've always wanted to try it!” He beamed.

________________________

You learned a lot that day, to say the least. Felix told you his life story–about how he died when he was only 5 from leukemia, rising up to heaven and living amongst the paradise of heaven, until he was assigned by the elder angels to become a guardian to a human, a high honor for such a young angel as him. At the very moment you took your first breath, Felix was there with you. While still young himself, he quickly matured and aged alongside you, almost as if you were going through everything with him. 

Felix began to tell you how he could sense when you were in danger with your life, and how we knew the moment your mother gave birth, you would be in harm's way with her, hence why she felt compelled to give you up to adoption.

He really did want to see you in a loving home, truly. Yet no one who welcomed you had the best intentions, he'd rather you be alone than in the house of monsters. Call it bad luck, or call it fate.

“So Felix, what grave mistake did you make to get kicked out? Did you try to murder one of my foster parents?” You asked, almost humorously as you sipped your coffee.

“Oh...just a fight with another angel, was all. Not supposed to fight in heaven, y'know?” He muttered.

He couldn't tell you the truth.

The truth that he was cast out of heaven by the elders for falling in love with you.

He's always adored everything about you as a young angel, but as the two of you grew together worlds apart, his feelings grew even more. However, his obsession didn't become out of control until recently. He loved everything about you, inside and out. He loved how you always had your nose stuffed inside a book when you weren't on the job. He loved how your sneeze was so high pitched it sounded like a mouse squeaking. He loved the way you walked, talked, and slept–to say he was a man possessed was an understatement.

Unfortunately, God was all-knowing. He could see his desire, and word quickly got around of a lust-filled angel. 

That's when this morning, after a long meeting with the elders to decide his punishment, he chose to come to earth, to be with you. It didn't matter that he would grow old and feel pain, he loved you, and he would do anything to simply bask in your presence.

You decided to keep him in your life. You let him follow you around and keep you company (as long as he promised not to have his giant wings out). At night, he'd find someplace to sleep, which during the cold and wet season broke your heart, so you let him slowly become accustomed to your shared apartment, introducing him as a friend you met at work. You gave him an allowance to buy whatever clothes/shoes he wanted (to which he quickly became addicted to shopping, spending the bare minimum on clothes while splurging on stuffed animals for the two of you.) 

You couldn't complain, truly. He was a ray of sunshine, and brought something new to your life.

________________

Time flew by quickly with your newfound friend by your side. While Yeji was a little unsure at first of him, Hyunjin quickly became inseparable to Felix, and frequently taught him how to play video games and cook for the house. Turns out, Felix had quite the knack for baking, specifically brownies, which tasted better than any dessert you'd ever had before. As quickly as Felix came into this world, he'd swiftly become the best thing that ever happened to you.

And yet, there was still something that was bugging you.

How could someone as perfect as Felix in every way ever possibly be cast out of heaven? He didn't have a mean bone in him, and surrounded everyone close to him with his graceful love and support. 

He had to have been lying to you about the fight.

One night, while he was enjoying some soup and TV, you decided to confront him. Something wasn't right.

“Felix, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what's up?” He said as he patted the empty spot on the couch, giving space for you to sit beside him.

You sat down and took his hand in yours. You were desperate to know the truth.

“Be honest with me, please. Why did you actually get cast out from heaven?”

He froze in his spot, face becoming pale.

“Felix...you know I won't judge you, I promise. Hell, even if you murdered someone, I'd still forgive you since you've done so much for me.”

He breathed a heavy sigh, there was no turning back now. He had to know if you loved him the way he loved you.

“Ok…I'll tell you but promise me that this won't ruin our relationship, okay?”

“Of course, pinky promise.” You said as your pinky interlocked with his.

“Well–I love you, Y/N. That's why I was kicked out.” He muttered, face heating up his freckles with a rosy pink.

“What do you mean? I'm sure you do love and care for me, but how is that wrong?”

“No, Y/N. I'm...in love with you. I have been for a long time. You're everything to me, I love every detail about you in ways I shouldn't.”

He paused, catching his breath and staring into your now widened eyes.

“Guardian Angels aren't supposed to fall in love with their humans…” He stated. “It's considered Lust, which is a sin. I'll probably never be let back into heaven unless I repent to God, and to you. Even though I’m head over heels for you, I'll never deserve you.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as he let go of your pinky, standing up and turning towards the door.

“I'm sorry Y/N, I've ruined everything, but I'll leave you alone now.” He whispered as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob preparing to leave.

Only to be stopped by you, as you spun him around and smashed your lips against his.

Your soft lips and gentle cusping of his face made his heart soar back to heaven, leaving him no other choice but to pull you closer and embrace you while your kiss continued.

You pulled back first, almost reluctantly. 

“I love you too, Felix. I actually have for quite-” Your speech was cut off by his lips fervorishly smacking back into yours.

A long, drawn out groan came from his lips as your kiss melted all his worries away, ever so romantic and tender, yet wanting more.

The other angels were right, he needed more, a desire like no other was consuming him, making him hungry with lust. To him, just the chance to taste you was worth more than any eternal life he could have, because who needed Heaven when his Heaven was here in front of him? The more your tongue danced with his, the more something he'd never felt until a few months ago burned in his heart. He needed to taste you, he needed to worship the ground you walked on. He could feel his length hardening every second he spent engrossed in your presence, not claiming you as his was not an option anymore, he had to.

“Baby…” He whispered into the kiss. “...Please. I'll do anything you want, I'll make you feel so so good, j-just please let me have you.”

You parted your lips from his and looked deep into his eyes, now expanded from the love and lust consuming his system.

“Then take me Felix, I'm all yours.”

That was all it took for a switch to turn on inside of him, swiftly grabbing you and carrying you bridal style to your bedroom. He laid you down gently on your back, almost as if you were a delicate sculpture, eyeballing your figure attentively. 

“Can I?” He asks as he fiddles with the zipper of your jeans. You quickly nod and help him remove it from you, leaving only your delicate yet soaked panties exposed.

Felix wasted no time, as he quickly pressed the pad of his thumb to your clothed clit, rubbing circles at a torturously slow pace, causing you to whimper gently.

“Felix...please, I need more.” You whined.

“Oh, sorry love, I got a little carried away.” He giggled at himself, as he began to take off your panties, exposing him to your glistening and throbbing cunt.

It was more perfect than anything he could have ever dreamed of, and all he could ever want.

He looked up at you with pleading and glowing eyes like a puppy begging for its food, looking for any sign of approval to feast on you. 

“Go ahead Felix.” 

Without hesitation, his face dived into your needy pussy and began desperately licking stripes up your folds like a starved man. It was truly the sweetest nectar he had ever tasted, he needed all of it. Every last drop.

You felt almost helpless with him devouring you at this pace, a firm grip on both of your thighs as you squirm at his every touch. His tongue turns its attention to your clit, as his lips wrap around it and begin sucking it for dear life. Jolts of electricity were sent flying across your entire body as you let out a series of high pitched, whiny moans, making Felix suck even harder.

“Felix, p-please!I-Its too much!!” You cried out from overstimulation.

His lips released from your clit with a “pop” as he turned up to you. He looked disgustingly beautiful, with puffy lips dripping with your juices, and pupils dilated in an almost drunken state. 

“S-so good baby, you taste so good!” Felix said desperately. “Cum for me, please? I need it so bad, you have no idea.”

Soon enough, your fingers guide his head back down and begin tugging against his hair while you drive him deeper into your cunt. Felix can’t help but rut against the bedsheets to your moans, his eyes shutting from time to time from the friction of his cock and the sound of your voice as you cry out his name whenever his tongue hits a sweet spot. 

“Oh my god oh my god, Felix please! I'm gonna cum!” You cry out, earning a moan from Felix as he speeds up the already brutal pace, eating you out like it’s the greatest meal he’s ever had. His wings swiftly materialized to hold your thighs in place, allowing him space to bring your body closer to the edge.

One little peck to your clit was all it took to send you over the edge as you released the most guttural moan you'd ever cried out, your whole body trembling as your pussy released the sweet juices Felix desired so much. He wasted no time in licking every spot of your folds clean, drinking it all in as his whole body shook alongside yours.

Your breathing became erratic and heavy, trying to come down from what was possibly the greatest orgasms of your life- when you noticed Felix pulling himself up shakily from his position, taking notice to the newfound stain, and you see why. Right where he was lying down on your sheets, a puddle of warm liquid sat with some running down his leg, with underwear completely soaked. You couldn't help but giggle to yourself as you pulled him into a warm embrace, his breathing still heavy. 

“I love you...so fucking much Y/N.” He spoke softly, head tucked into your shoulder.

“I love you too Felix, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me.” You replied, placing a gentle kiss on his temple, rubbing his neck and scalp gently.

Even after only a few seconds, you heard a sniffle followed by a wet feeling on your neck.

“Felix, baby...what's wrong?” You whispered, tilting his chin up so his eyes could meet yours. Tears were streaming down his face, and his lip quivered violently.

“I'm the luckiest angel in the world.” He croaked out through his soft sobs. “I'm glad I get to spend the rest of my life here with you.”

As his soft wings wrapped gently around your body, you finally realized that maybe love was around you this whole time. A sweet boy who loved you and always did his best to protect you, even if you couldn't see it at the time. You were truly grateful to God for sending him to you, and you knew your story with him was far from over. No matter what, you knew he'd always be there for you, and see the best in everybody.

“You really are my sweet angel, Felix.”

[cpericardium]

This is the story of the time I interviewed at Ubisoft.

When I was a teenager, I became obsessed with the Bioshock series and got it into my head that I wanted to do game design for a living. I'd never seriously attempted it nor did I know exactly what it entailed, but how hard could it be? I gamed!! I had ideas!! I said this to my teacher during a what do you want to be when you grow up talk, and she said, "Oh! My sister works at Ubisoft Singapore. I'll get you an interview."

Emails were exchanged, and someone at the company arranged a "quick chat" with me a couple of weeks later. It was for a QA tester intern position, which I reasoned was sort of like game design. After all, in the Sims 3 it's one rung on the ladder to becoming a game developer. Also I didn't want to anger my teacher. She was quite volatile.

Round 1:

I'd never done a job interview before. I put on a nice blouse and pencil skirt and heels, nervously applied and reapplied makeup which I normally did not wear, and showed up at the office building an hour early. Then as I went up the elevator I realised they never said what room it was. I couldn't very well email to ask now. I'd look like an idiot!! Fuck!! So for an hour, I just skulked around outside various glass doors peering into offices hoping there would be some receptionist around to ask, but there was practically no one there. The email only said "let's have a quick chat at 2pm on x date".

I was about to slink home with my tail between my legs when the interviewer called at the scheduled time. It was a phone interview!!!!! He didn't say that!!!!! I found a dingy secluded stairwell. As if to taunt me, one of the first questions he asked was "have you ever been to the building?"

Me, through gritted teeth: yeah! actually I'm here right now, haha... to scope it out, you know... get a lay of the land..... it's really big... Lots of glass walls...

Him: oh that's nice.

I don't remember most of the questions, but I do know he asked me what my favourite games were. I said Undertale and Life is Strange (they had come out that year), but he'd never heard of them. Maybe I should've said Far Cry or something but what if he quizzed me on it?

Round 2:

I should not have made it to this round. I was coasting entirely on the goodwill of my teacher's sister, who was high up the chain. She interviewed me next. I think her only question was whether I would be okay working long gruelling hours with little support and no overtime.

Me, blissfully unaware of crunch culture being a massive human rights issue in the industry: bring it on!!

Her: what? 🤨

Then she ushered me into a room to take a pencil and paper test. While waiting earlier, I'd frantically googled and memorised a bunch of Ubisoft games, so I could answer the one asking me to list eight of them. I figured I could have gotten away with saying Assassin's Creed and adding a random number to the back though.

The biggest problem was on the other side of the paper: a diagram of a gaming controller asking me to label the buttons. Here's the thing. I'm a PC gamer. Always have been. At the time, my only experience with console gaming was playing Little Big Planet with my best friend when I was twelve, at her house. And I wasn't very good at it! I think I fundamentally lack the hand-eye coordination for console gaming, but that's just a guess because I can count on one hand the number of times I've ever used a controller. And I can count on one hand the number of controllers I have in that hand! It's zero! I knew the wiggly antennae were for movement and the buttons on the sides did esoteric things that people will yell at you to press during crucial moments, but that was it. I ended up labelling the buttons the shapes they were (circle button, triangle button, square button etc).

The interviewer came back into the room after about 15 minutes and said I now had an hour to play an unfinished level of Assassin's Creed, identify as many bugs as possible, and record them on a spreadsheet. And even though she set me up at a computer monitor, I still had to use a controller. Are you kidding me! This was the Victorian era Assassin's Creed. I had never played any AC games before, so I didn't know what were bugs and what were features. Was "can't jump" a bug? Was "invisible wall surrounding staircases"? What was the format and lingo you were supposed to use when recording bugs? I made no progress towards the quest at all (I did not understand it or who my character was), just wandered around and wrote down things I noticed and didn't like until time was up.

Anyway, that's the tale of how I didn't get a job I was woefully unprepared and underqualified for and in retrospect didn't want all that much. Maybe what I really wanted was to be... was Ayn Rand.

[catgirlforeskin]

there is a trans girl who was so put off from being her true self by reddit communities early into her transition that she saw being a trans woman as a limitation. so she spent years living as a femboy, choking the girl inside herself to death the whole time.

she clung to her femboy identity, believing it to be the only way to escape a miserable fate. she fought to kill her true self and become this boy. she invested all her hope into him, but she was unable to continue living a lie, and she could no longer maintain his form. he wasn't her.

is it possible for her to breathe life back into her own long-dead corpse and love herself?

can she grow past the limits of the weak pathetic shape she grew into within the zoo, and heal the bones she broke into another unnatural shape to escape the bars of her habitat?

can she make it? can even a girl as worthless as her love herself?

It is always possible. It is always possible to heal and grow and love yourself and be loved. It is always possible for a trans woman to be happy and it’s the most important thing for her to do. So many of us are raised drowning and taught that to reach out for help would be an unforgivable imposition and incur an unpayable debt and I want to grab every trans woman by the shoulders and shake her and tell her that she doesn’t need to tread water her whole life until her legs give out and she sinks. You can be saved. You can reach dry land and you can learn to breathe without fear. You can live. Let me show you how

[ariatwang]

I'm from what I've taken to calling a ghost city.

The population peaked in 1960 and since then it's just slowly...disintegrated is the best word I can think of. We have half the population now that we did then. All the companies and factories and plants up and left and took the jobs and the money and the people with them. Probably half the buildings you'll see are abandoned and there are old forgotten, run-down train tracks lying across most of the bigger roads because we were a major train depot during the Civil War but we haven't had much use for them since them. (What used to be the primary depot then is now our farmer's market, though, and they kept all of the original building so it still looks the part, which is cool.) It's silent in a very particular way.

Also, every single one of the old old buildings, which is most of them, is very very haunted. I'm not BSing, I know from experience because I've worked in a lot of them and possibly the most haunted is drumroll please, my middle and high school. I've got stories, man. You don't live here and not believe in ghosts. You'll get laughed at like you would get laughed at elsewhere for insisting that they're real.

It is a fucking weird way to grow up. You watch all the cities in the country's population lines climb higher year after year when the censuses come out while yours is slowly falling. You see pictures from the heyday of the 50s and early 60s of the theaters and streets that look so very familiar because you've walked down them at night when it's so quiet you can hear each individual breath you take and those same streets are packed with people so tight their shoulders touch, and you think, holy shit, is that really the same place I'm from? The same one where just 2/3 of the physical city is inhabited? It's kind of unnerving for a kid to realize that her city, her hometown, is actively dying right in front of her, and has been and will be her whole life.

I've never lived anywhere else so I don't know anything else. The house I grew up in had an overgrown pine tree completely covering the front of it so that you can't even see it from the street, a back deck almost completely rotted away by the time we sold it, mold in the attic that made the ceiling sag, and a kitchen floor that was actively trying to cave in below us for as long as I can remember. You have to walk like a ballerina. I taught myself to fix it to the extent I could, which was not a lot, with a can of caulk and painter's tape when I was about ten. That's pretty close to the standard for around here. Point is, I don't have a notion of home that's founded on forward motion. It really got to me for a long time.

But a ghost city like this, the thing is, it attracts the photographers and the historians and the independent journalists. They want to write down the ghost stories and photograph the pictures of decay, which they find to be full of meaning and wonder. I've talked to a few of them and they always hang on to every word I have to say about this place I've grown up.

They take pictures of the secluded houses with the plants overtaking the foundation and the windows broken and the boards missing, stolen by God knows what, rain or hustlers or time.

I, a lifelong native, am still processing the gift that comes naturally to the ghost city's version of tourists: to look what seems to have just taken a breath and then never exhaled and see the colors of memory, the preservation of life in the last breath you can still see the place holding instead of the fingerprints of death in the ending of the thing.

[mandalhoerian]

Gosh I wish you made such big analize about Xavier and Sylus, sometimes I feel so dumb that I can't read so good behind the lines. 😭😭😭

HEY NO CMON NOW NO NEED TO DISCREDIT YOURSELF LIKE THAT!!!! First of all, this is an ongoing game and story, think of it like an incomplete ao3 fic you have theories for. There are HUUGE gaps in there that will be filled later and until then, they are left to the interpretation of the player. It's only natural, there's SO MUCH stuff and lore out there to be consumed, which are often non-linear that it makes things confusing on purpose. It's all about feeding us crumbs about what's coming, of course we get lost!!

Secondly, I made the rafayel analysis because it confused the lights out of me with the constant nagging feeling that I was missing something and that's why I didn't understand most things and wanted to get my thoughts straight. Like the ebb day theories floating out there as to why he was Like That, why he said the things he did out of nowhere and randomly like "what if i take from you will you leave me?" after the topic was JUST about sceneries and the love and art burns me talk after YET AGAIN another art talk about inspiration in pain. I had whiplash over whiplash and felt the need to dive deep into intertidal zone.

It's not like that with Sylus and Xavier (and Zayne's) cards. At least for me. All of them are fairly self-contained compared to his, I feel like. And I'm sure other people have discussed this already, much better than I can as well -- especially Sylus, but I'll put my two cents in for a general review of both their memorias!

Xavier is experiencing negative emotions such as jealousy FOR THE FIRST TIME with MC. He doesn't know how to process these feelings which are allowed to be nurtured in a safe environment when that wasn't the case before in his life. They manifest in temper bursts that stem from a life of being forced to be emotionally blank. He wasn't allowed to be a child or freedom for himself and his thoughts and feelings and wants, so he starts behaving in a childish way -- it's something he's surprised about as well. This happens when you feel safe with a person that those repressed parts begin to open up and you start being yourself more with them. It's sad when you think about it, as cute as it is coming from Xavier. MC is so understanding of him and finding him being "expressive" more as a really positive thing. She's an amazing partner -- because let's face it, if this behavior came from a man in real life, it would be so annoying. Xavier isn't like those other men though, his jealousy doesn't come from a need to control or possess, a place of distrust, projection or disregard of personal boundaries. It's cute because it's followed by healthy communication to allow Xavier to process and grow and open up more, it doesn't threaten the relationship. This is just my interpretation, aside from the context of their previous lives together (the desire to monopolize now that he finally is with her) and this being Xavier's possibly last year on earth that gives a "i've got so little time left and i don't want to waste it" stuff.

And Sylus is. Well. There's a lot in there. The theme here is "their first time", and it's not limited to sleeping together, in my opinon. Theirs is a burgeoning relationship compared to the other "established" relationships. They're new to each other. We even see domesticity from them in MC's house for the first time, though it is a result of Sylus's Onychinus life making an introduction in their relationship as something that has to be legitimately talked about eventually. MC wants to come along with him and know more but Sylus hides a lot from her to keep her safe and separate from him, and yes it's his business and MC doesn't push (the mutual respect is insane here), but it's affecting their time together. Not that MC sees this as a problem because she's always ready to throw down (AND does lock in and gets one step ahead of him).

I read this as MC's first time finally letting him in and her desires/feelings for him that she asked him to stay and kept making the moves when it had all been him before. Her feelings are growing. And you can see how much it pleases him and makes him happy, he was waiting for this -- for MC to voluntarily want him and be honest with him. That's all Sylus wants. He can see into what she wants, and sure yeah he knows, but her outwardly voicing them to him is a different story altogether. It shows she trusts him, and that's important to Sylus.

She was mostly closed off and withdrawn from him emotionally because they have this dynamic that started off hostile that turned into teasing and provoking where she sees being vulnerable with him as a weakness that would be embarrassing. It's a budding relationship, remember? No couple is all in & open with each other right from the beginning, it comes later. And Sylus is a dominant man (not domineering, that's a different word) and I think MC doesn't like being weak next to someone like him, and she perceives a power imbalance there unconsciously even though Sylus wants her to be open so bad and rely on him more and give her everything she wants and needs.

So it's HUUUUUGE that they showed Sylus intertwine their hands together when he had to FORCE IT before. MC is finally receiving him with open arms and you can see he's delighted. It's so romantic first of all, but mans is hungry, BUT HE'S ALSO SO TENDER AND LOVING !!! GOOD FOR YOU SYLUS GET IT. I love this for him and that he felt safe enough to sleep even though he's nocturnal. Or she sucked the soul right out of his dick and knocked him out cold 😭 the sex was so astronomically soul ascending i guess LMFAO

Again, I'm sorry if I got anything wrong. These are just my thoughts, and they are surface level!

[talkingaboutwhatiwant]

Got any cool Nevermore theories?

Using this question as an excuse to continue theorizing/mindless babbling.

"you'll be bones by sunrise" is a yummy little quote from our favorite apathetic bird. While for quite a while I was under the impression that Lenore wouldn't get her specter until the end of the series, but unless the entirety of S2 will consist of the one night, she might get it earlier. I have a hard time believing that the raven will be proven wrong in some capacity, so I see this as us being told that Lenore will get her specter, perhaps the raven's quote directly telling us she'll be a skeleton of some sort.

The passage to the land of the living. I'm not entirely sure why the gang can't just use their spectres to make the journey, maybe they can and they haven't thought about it (especially considering our heroine hasn't gotten hers yet) but nevertheless it seems like a good plot point and the rational way to get to the end.

I also wonder if any students have "recharged" enough to use their spectres, and if that'd help then against the wild hunt. Annabelle is shown in the finale very much so I'm danger, and Lenore wasn't exactly in a position to swoop in and save her.

The Curse

I've seen a lot of people theorizing that the stag is Leo, more specifically his spectre, so most of this ramble is going to be based on that idea. First off, if the stag is Leo's spectre, he likely has to constantly be in that form to keep from being eaten (to go with my assumption that spectres can't be eaten by the creatures running about) so ... how? The deans vaguely put out this idea that they and Nevermore as an academy are the ones that give the students the ability to "unlock" their spectres, but I don't support this idea. It's possible that the academy actually dampens the abilities of spectres, explaining how Theo could retain his for so long. The raven says something about the passage into new life being safe in the past, but also correlating to the creatures starving now, which seems to contradict as we don't know what the creatures eat, besides half-dead humans. Somehow the academy ruined the ecosystem, but only left predators? I don't know. I like to assume that the ecosystem involved the creatures feeding off of the traveling spirits, but not the ones who developed their spectres. The orbs present at the beginning of the series can't ALL be from Nevermore mishaps of past, right? Perhaps the reason Leo even is living as a spectre is he found out something about the deans and fled, perhaps growing enough strength with his spectre to retain it long enough to learn "the good old fashioned way" if you will, how to permanently retain it.

Another Leo theory is that he won the new life (as the deans said he was at the top of his class), and came back as one of these creatures. We're under the impression with the "second chance at life" statement that it means picking up where they left off in a Ride The Cyclone-esque way, but I don't like that idea so I'm choosing not to believe it. Besides my hate for the trope, the history of the dead traveling to the land of the living implies a reincarnation system, otherwise there'd be centuries of immortals to speak of. Perhaps Leo won the second chance, and had the rotten enough luck (perhaps from the "curse" that I don't really believe in but that's a different rant) to come back as one of these nightmarish creatures.

Annabelle and her spectre!!

I have a LOT of feelings about Annabelle and her spectre, so I'm going to try my best to make this readable.

First off, I don't believe that one can have a fake spectre, and while Annabelle had a memory planted that caused her to get hers, there must be enough truth to it. The deans are powerful, but I see spectres as an ancient mechanism, older than the Raven, (Supporting my theory that spirits used to develop their spectres on their own) and impossible to fake. Annabelle was killed before she was to be wed (the only way a lady in white can be) maybe she and Lenore got found out and were killed together, or something happened and they made a suicide pact of sorts (this one I'm not super fond of, but it makes some sense to me so I'm putting it in). It's also possible that in her spectral form, she has a deeper understanding, whether a subconscious thought, feeling, or something else entirely. Her and Lenore's situation is so unique and complex that many things are possible here, we just don't know.

It's important to note that these are loose theories without research, just my mind making connections for entertainment. Let me know if y'all agree, disagree, or have something to add on! Thanks for reading this far

[bunni3bab]

So I really like body horror, and I thought it was a shame that Pressure can't go more in depth about the whole turning an innocent man into a killer fish thing, so i thought this would be funny.

In all seriousness, the first few chapters are light but im going to go into gross detail about how Sebastian's magical girl fish transformation happened and it's not pretty.

This is going to be focused on Sebastian's time in Urbanshade and explore a lot of his character angst 👍

Growing Pains

Chapter One: Entering Jaws

“...I'm here on account of a company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Good, you're not supposed to...”

Sebastian was falsely convicted for a crime he didn't commit. Backed into a corner and faced with a pending execution, he's offered a way out.

This first chapter is real light for the most part but just in case, this chapter has mentions of: One singular corpse, prisoner mistreatment, isolation, very light injury mentions towards the end. The next chapters are only going to get worse so proceed with caution.

Nine people were murdered, all in a similar style. Their names were grouped together, unfamiliar faces smiling in photos they had taken before their ultimate demise.

It was a horrible tragedy, really. The news had surprised him, as the neighborhood Sebastian lived in was relatively safe. He had been born and raised in the area. This sort of thing was unheard of.

He sent his regards to the families, he truly did. 

He just didn't understand why he had to be held accountable for it.

Sebastian didn't know them. He had nothing to do with them. When he was sat down in the interrogation room with their faces staring at him from files they had slapped down on the table, he was left speechless and confused. He tried his best to answer their questions. He had never been involved with the police before. He had never been in legal trouble before. Their accusatory questions and dehumanizing stares nearly made him question if he had killed nine people and somehow forgot about it. But he still stayed as strong as he possibly could be. He insisted over and over, “I didn’t do it.” 

But his explanations fell on deaf ears. He was in the area, he didn't have a solid alibi, and his family didn't have enough money for a good lawyer.

Sebastian would admit it, it looked bad— but it wasn't him.

Time stopped when he received the death penalty. Months’ worth of paperwork and planning all meant to try and get him back home to his normal life were thrown away in an instant. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, the decision had been made, and he was powerless against it. His family, his career, his future— it all meant nothing to them, not when they were convinced he was a murderer. The situation was so ridiculous, so unbelievable, he found himself still in denial some days.

He wasn’t due for his execution for at least another fifteen years, he had been told. It took a long while for these things to get finalized. It tormented him. Rather than just putting him out of his misery, they were hanging the reaper over his head. He spent every night going to bed, in his dark cell, thinking about the fact that this is what his future looked like for the rest of his life- the life they let him have. His best moments were managing to stay calm under the harsh treatment he faced from the guards, his worst were in those late nights where he had nothing to distract himself from this harsh reality. His eyes would be crusted with dry tears. The red puff from crying battled the weighted eye bags in which one wanted to be more painfully obvious. He would be dead before he’d ever get the chance to hit 40, a fact that didn’t sit right with him. He used to think of those years as something so far into the future that it was out of his reach, but now it felt so close. Too close. 

He was never one to think too heavily about what his future looked like. He knew what he wanted, but he was open to anything as long as he was happy. Maybe he’d continue pursuing engineering and get a good career out of it, maybe not. Maybe he’d continue playing the guitar and writing songs he’d never have the courage to share, maybe not. He knew that’s what he wanted currently, but how was he to say if that would be the case 10 or 20 years from now. At least he wouldn’t ever have to worry about that, he thought bitterly. Now he knew for a fact that he was going to be a dead man. 

The sins of a crime he didn’t commit weighed heavily on him every day. Despite not being the one to spill it, the blood stained much more than just his reputation. He wore cuffs every second of the day. In the exercise yard, in the shower, it didn’t matter. Not unless he was in his cell, not that he left it often. He wasn’t allowed out of the claustrophobic thing unless he was showering or exercising.

Or if his mother was visiting him. He tried his best to stay positive for her. She always looked one second from breaking. She flashed him that same wavering smile. He had gotten familiar with it over the years, especially after his dad’s death. Despite his protests, she never stopped masking her troubles behind a positive attitude. Before, he took comfort in knowing he could at least help her out financially to take some of the stress off of her shoulders. He felt so helpless now sitting across from her, unable to do anything with glass separating them. 

She’d give him updates on how his siblings were doing. She’d tell him about how Callum was getting interested in computer science, which was ironic considering he claimed he wanted to get into more “exciting jobs” like acting when he was younger.. She’d happily rave about Mira’s promotion at work. She handled the aquatic life at a nearby zoo. He used to tease her for being an animal nerd, but he never stopped her from sharing her knowledge on strange and obscure fish. 

His mother always made sure to let him know that they were waiting for him. She never lost hope that Sebastian would be let go.

“They’ll realize this is all one huge mistake. Everyone knows you’d never commit such crimes.”

She visited him frequently. His sister did sometimes too, though she could never quite look him in the eyes. His mom always insisted that Mira didn’t think he was guilty, but Sebastian never believed it. How could he when she had that disapproving frown on her face the whole time. 

Callum never visited. Too busy focusing on his schoolwork, he was told. He appreciated his mom’s efforts of shielding his feelings, but sometimes he wished she would just be honest with him.

His days cycled the same. Eat, work out, shower, eat, sleep, eat, see his mom, shower, eat. But one day, there was a change that interrupted his daily admiration of the cold stonewall time. He had a visitor, an unexpected one. He was hoping it was his mom visiting at a strange time, or his brother finally choosing to see him. Imagine his disappointment when he found a man in a clad suit sitting at the table instead.

The man's hair was comically slicked back, and there was not a single crease on his suit to be found. He flashed Sebastian a bright smile as he was cuffed to the table, like he was catching up with an old friend rather than talking to a death row inmate.

“Sebastian Solace, I've heard so much about you.” He adjusted his papers. Sebastian caught sight of a printed-out news article about his arrest. The man winked. “All bad things, unfortunately, but don't you worry. I like to keep an open mind. You seem like a good kid, intelligent too,” he chuckled, “I mean…nine people, in such a short amount of time? That must have taken a lot of planning to pull off. I see a lot of sickos here, but this one certainly takes the cake.” When Sebastian only stared at him, the man put up his hands in defense. “But hey, I get it, mistakes happen.”

Sebastian swallowed in an attempt to combat his dry throat, “I didn't do it.”

He laughed, “I've heard that one before, but that's neither here nor there. Whether you're actually the culprit means nothing to me. All I care about is what’s written on paper, and as long as it reads that you’re guilty, you're looking at the electric chair. Not for a long while, of course, but you will eventually. I bet that’s just eating you up inside, isn’t it?”

Sebastian clenched his fists. 

“I'll take that as a yes. That's unfortunate, you know, you're still so young.” The man leaned forward as he carefully studied Sebastian's face. He couldn't bring himself to look at him. He was trapped in a never-ending loop of shame and anger, neither quite winning.

Shame because Sebastian was at his absolute lowest. Shame because of his helplessness. Shame because of how his name has been smeared beyond recognition. It swallowed him whole. Its gentle waves lulled him into a false sense of security, slowly dissolving any argument against his predicament.

Oh, but anger, it stuck around like a pestilence. Its flames reignited every time shame tried to drip too close. It refused to quiet down.

You're innocent, it reminded. This is unfair, it insisted. You need to do something.

Sebastian let his head hang, his cuffs coming into view. The chilled metal caused his arms to shiver slightly, and goosebumps to peppered his arms. Or maybe it was because of the man's scrutinizing gaze, Sebastian wasn't sure.

When the man found whatever he was looking for, he sat back, “Lucky you, you have another chance.”

Sebastian brought his attention back to the man in front of him, wondering what kind of sick joke he was trying to set up.

“…what?”

“You seem skeptical. There's no tricks here, friend. I'm Jackson Barlowe, and I'm here on account of a company called Urbanshade. Ever heard of it?”

Sebastian shook his head.

“Good, you're not supposed to,” he winked, “we handle a lot of boring legal and monetary issues, nothing you’d care for. But they’re interested in you.” Barlowe slid a packet across the table. The cover had some sort of strange eye logo taking up the center space. 

Urbanshade: For the better of the Modern World.

“They’re interested…in me?”

“Well don’t let it get to your head there, pal, they just need more volunteers. That’s all this is, really, volunteer work. But, it does have one key perc I think you’ll enjoy. You’ll get out of death row.”

Sebastian’s eyes widened. Hope glimmered in his heart for a moment, but it was shortly lived as he reminded himself that there had to be a catch. This was too good to be true. There’s no way a company would be able to keep him alive as long as he did simple volunteer work.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch, that’s the whole deal.”

“There’s always a catch.”

Barlowe chuckled and turned his head. He looked like he was mentally debating something, “I never said the volunteer work would be fun. You’re going to be expected to do whatever they say at the drop of a hats’ notice. And you’ll still be a prisoner. Cells, cuffs, limited privileges, the whole package. I’m not exactly handing you a paradise here, but it ain’t death, and that’s more than what you got now.”

“What’s the volunteer work?”

“Ah, minor stuff mostly. You’ll have to answer questions for research, test a few equipment pieces, that sort of thing.”

Sebastian tried to hold back his skepticism, he was in no position to bargain after all, but he was never quite good at holding his tongue. “What happens when they don’t need me anymore? For…volunteer work, I mean. Will I ever be able to go home?”

Barlowe took in a deep breath and stroked his trimmed beard. He thought for a long while before responding, “Anything is possible. Urbanshade is pretty flexible with these things, if you can imagine. You behave well and you’ll see your family again. That is what this is about, yeah? You miss your folks?”

He almost laughed, “Is that even a question?”

“What a family man. Well then, Sebastian, at the risk of losing my job,” Barlowe leaned in close and whispered, “Urbanshade has been known to pardon some lucky souls before. Play your cards right and that could be you. You’ll be happy to know that they work fast too. They might not need you for long. In just a year or two, you could be walking out of there a free man.”

Sebastian internally battled with himself. On one hand, the man’s words were unnervingly vague. Barlowe never guaranteed anything, this whole deal was a big game of luck and chance for Sebastian. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t continue to waste his life here, waiting to succumb to death. He hated going to sleep on his cold and hard bed in his cramped cell. He hated spending most of his day thinking about what he could’ve been doing had he not been caught up in this mess. 

But more than any of that, he hated not only being able to see his family for a limited time through glass. He missed helping his mother cook. He missed annoying Mira while she was trying to study or playing video games with Callum. He missed seeing them happy- genuinely happy. He hated the fake smile his mom put up to make him feel better. He hated the look of shame across Mira donned. And strangely enough, he hated that he hadn’t even gotten to see a disgraced look upon Callum’s face. He didn’t care if it was a glare, bottling up all of the world’s hatred and wrath, he wanted to be given the chance to see him at least.

“You can always decline the offer and bite the bullet now, if you prefer those chances, of course. Maybe death row is more comfy than I’m giving it credit for.”

Right, “offer”, Sebastian thought bitterly. “Offer” implied that there was a choice, like he had any room to say no. It was pretty obvious what he wanted to do— what he had to do. Not only for himself, but for his family. 

The man slid a pen over as Sebastian flipped through the packet. It was full of a bunch of legal mumbo-jumbo. The information was decorated in fancy language Sebastian wasn’t familiar with. His grip on the paper tightened, creasing the sides. It wasn't a matter of deciding, but rather finding the will to pick up the pen and sign his name on the dotted line, that made the process so difficult. He felt his pride wilt away with every draw of the line, and he couldn't keep his eyes open when he went to dot the “i”. Hope resided in his chest. He had gone this far, he could keep going.

He’d make it home, and his mother would understand, she always did. From the time that he broke her favorite flowerpot, to the moment he was arrested.

“You're a good boy, Sebastian. The rest of the world may have forgotten that, but don't let yourself, for even a moment, doubt it.”

Barlowe collected the papers and pen, “You made the right choice, Solace.”

He certainly hoped he did. 

Barlowe wasn’t lying when he said Urbanshade worked quickly. The moment Sebastian had finished his meeting, he was transported to the back of a truck. A bag was placed over his head for the whole drive. For privacy reasons, he was told.

The drive was long and difficult. His cuffs would dig into his skin every time the truck took a turn and set him off balance. The bag smelt like it had been sitting in a basement its whole life, and it was incredibly itchy. Some of the loose ends would get tangled in his outgrown hair from time to time. He wasn't alone either, there were armed men in there with him. He knew that because he could hear them adjust their hold on their guns periodically.

He tried his hardest to keep a steady breath, fighting against the dizziness that consumed his system. He couldn’t help but be on edge. The knowledge that several guards were surrounding him, ready to aim if he stepped out of line, had his tied down limbs shaking. He tried to focus on the cold sweat dripping down his forehead to keep from spiraling down into a panic. 

When the truck finally stopped, he was blindly dragged out. Sebastian couldn't make out where he was. The air stunk of fish and salt. The sound of water splashing echoed throughout. By the time he was finally freed from the bag, he was already being shoved inside of what he assumed was a submarine. 

He wasn't the only one there. There were other prisoners, all heavily strapped down. There wasn't a single part of their bodies that wasn't tied down, and bags were placed over their heads. The top half was made of mesh, allowing them to state at Sebastian silently. The bottom half was a white plastic, what purpose it served, he wasn't sure.  Some of them had “high risk prisoner” stamped on their suit in red ink.

“High risk?” Sebastian mumbled to himself.

A guard, dressed from head to toe in sleek black body armor, gripped him by the shoulder.

“I wouldn't stress about it, just try to keep your space and you'll be fine.” He laughed as he shoved Sebastian into an empty seat, and began to fasten the restraints. 

They were needlessly tight, the one wrapping around his stomach left little room for air. Sebastian's breaths were shallow, his abdomen trying its best to fight against the strap. His breaths only became more shaky once the guard went to place a white bag over his head.

“Don't take it personal, kid. We have to do this to all of you regardless of behavior. Protocol and all.” His words went in one ear and out the other as the bag was placed over his head. 

Sebastian could only focus on the pounding sound of his heartbeat as the guards exited the submarine. 

Sebastian was in Urbanshade’s Hadal Site, he learned quickly. Submerged deep into the murky waters, away from civilization and contact. 

The air always felt thick and moist. The place reeked of the strong scent of cleaning chemicals and sanitation, and the rooms were towering. They swallowed you whole in big open spaces. It was a nice change from the tiny rooms he was squished into before, but the vast rooms held so much room for possibility, like anything could be waiting in the corners. It was unnerving.

“You’re next, Solace.”

Sebastian was shoved forward by an armed guard. He stepped in front of the height chart and held up his card detailing his name and assigned ID number. 

“Smile.” The photographer snapped a picture, the blinding flash burning his eyes. “Off you go now, low-rank.”

Sebastian stepped off the black mat and handed in his board. A new uniform was placed into his hands as a replacement. Guards led him down a long hallway. They idly chatted amongst themselves, as though Sebastian weren’t there.

“Did you hear that Jeff got moved over to the N.O.S.T security division?”

“You’re kidding! That’s one hell of a promotion. Those guys always get to retire early. Heard the pay is incredible.”

“It doesn’t sound all that worth it to me. They barely ever come back to get paid in the first place.”

“Eh, yeah but they get to see all of the cool stuff. The fish get boring after a while.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. There’s been reports of something real dangerous and big floating around the drills. The thing eats bullets, some of the survivors say. I wouldn’t be surprised if they start sending in low-ranks to handle it.”

“Hah, hear that, low-rank? You might have to swim with the fishies soon.” The man knocked his shoulder into Sebastian’s. The men laughed. He could only keep walking, wondering to himself if they were trying to scare him or if there was seriously something horrifying in the waters that consumed them.

Eventually, they stopped at a locked door. One of the guards scanned something on their wrist, causing the sturdy machinery to whirr and open up his new cell.

It was much bigger than he expected, at least in comparison to what he had before. It was well lit and cleaned, not a speck of dirt in sight. In the corner was a curtain concealing a toilet. How kind of them to give him privacy.

“There ya go, pal. Get changed ASAP, that new jumpsuit is what prevents you from being shot on sight.”

Sebastian turned to the guard with wide eyes, hoping to find any signs that it was a joke made in poor taste. His only response was a shove into his cell and the door sliding shut. He stood there for a solid minute, desperately trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. He was miles away from home, stuck in a place whose location was kept a secret from him. This wasn’t ideal, but he could make this work. It wasn’t permanent anyway. If he did as they asked, Sebastian had a chance at being let go, and that was more than he had before.

He looked down at the neatly folded uniform in his hands. Stitched onto the chest of the dark blue fabric was “LR-P.”  He squinted as he noticed an inverted pentagram printed onto the suit. That was…strange.

He decided not to read too much into it as he changed.

Sebastian was kept surprisingly busy. Every day he was called in to complete a task or a test, and without any explanation of what it was for, he would be sent back to his cell. It was all strange. One day he’d be requested to donate blood, the next he was taste testing candy canes.

One particular instance easily won as the strangest questionnaire he had to participate in. He was sat down and shown a picture of a skinned and headless corpse. You would have thought it would have made him sick, but it only filled him with desperation instead. He felt the strange need to provide it with furs so she could stay warm. 

He was asked to identify the corpse, and found himself stating, with no hesitation, “That’s my wife.”

“Have you ever been married, Mr. Solace?”

“Never exactly got the chance. Being arrested for murder really kills your chances.”

“And yet this is…?”

“My wife.”

He hadn’t realized how strange the situation was until he was sent back to his cell. From the murmurs he picked up on his way out, everyone recognized the corpse as their wife. 

Sebastian never cared for ghosts or the paranormal. He wasn’t a huge believer in them like his sister was, but it was hard to ignore the glaring red flags present. The inverted pentagrams stamped everywhere, the corpse that makes you think of it as your wife, the strange fish situation the guards brought up when he first got there. And the list didn’t end there.

Guards were posted everywhere, heavy duty guns in hand at all times. At random, sirens or alarms would sound, and swarms of guards would rush out in a single file line. Some came back, a lot of them didn't. If he strained his ears, he could hear faint cries throughout the day.

He was constantly being watched. There were security cameras at every corner. As if that wasn't enough, there were men and women in lab coats who regularly circled through the cells, silently watching. Sometimes they’d take another prisoner with them. What they were looking for, Sebastian wasn't sure, but he still felt unease settle within his stomach everytime their eyes lingered on him. It all made him wonder what Urbanshade was even trying to achieve. 

Despite the constant state of unease, he was doing relatively well. His tasks were simple and to the point.

Well, they were simple in concept. Having to carry around heavy boxes wasn’t fun. Sebastian grunted as he set down a heavy package beside a fellow prisoner. He was sat at some table with a prototype of what looked to be some sort of flashlight. 

A beeping collar settled around the disgruntled man’s neck. He had a cigarette between his lips and the top half of his jumpsuit was left neglected to hang at his hips. He grunted out a quick, “Thanks.”

Sebastian’s eyes drifted down to the printed “Doug - MR-P” tag on his shirt. The man followed the movement.

“You new here?”

Sebastian shrugged, “Got here about a week ago.”

Doug shook his head, “Yeah, I can tell. Word of advice? Play nice and you’ll do fine, boy. Do yourself a favor and work up to medium rank. The work gets grueling but the benefits are worth it.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigs. He offered the box to him. Sebastian shook his head.

“Thanks, but I don’t smoke.” He had tried it once back in high school when a friend offered it. He coughed it up immediately and faced the wrath of his sister when he got home and she smelled the nicotine on him. She had promised not to snitch as long as he never picked up another cigarette again.

The man laughed, “Hah, just give it some time. Once you’ve seen what I have, you’ll do anything to ease the edge.”

Sebastian swallowed, seeing an opportunity now that the guards weren’t breathing down his back. “What does this place even do? I’ve done everything from reviewing lollipops to identifying corpses and I can’t get my mind around what all of this is for.”

The man blew out a trail of smoke, “See, that’s your first mistake. You’re askin’ questions. Don’t do that. Less you know, the better. Trust me.”

That did little to reassure him, but he didn’t get a chance to push further. He was rushed off to try different ice cream flavors. 

Weeks flew by with the same routine. Weeks of not speaking to his family weighed heavy on him. He never got a chance to tell his mom about the “offer.” If he had known Urbanshade would whisk him away so quickly, he would've asked to take some time to think about it. It would be some time before he’d be able to see them again, it’s not like they could swim down to see him. He wondered what they were told, if they even knew where he was. He hoped they wouldn’t be upset with him for leaving without warning. 

They’d do fine without him, he reminded himself. They were all strong enough to keep going without him there, they always were. And once Urbanshade was done with him, he’d see them again. He’d finally be able to hug his mom again, to know that she’s really there, and that all of this was behind them. It would take some work, but he’d do whatever necessary to earn back Mira and Callum’s respect. He’d prove to them that he was never the heartless murderer the jury deemed him to be. And they’d be together again, safe, happy, and home.

He just needed to figure out how he could work his way to getting pardoned. 

Sebastian awoke one night to his cell door sliding open. 

“Hey, what prisoner rank are you?”

A pool of light crawled through the doorway, a silhouette of a man being the only thing to shield him from going blind. He sat up slowly, sleep yet to have released him from its clutches quite yet.

“Huh?”

“This is the low-ranking section, yes? Am I lost again?”  A man dressed in a long white lab coat stood before him. The glare in his safety goggles made it difficult to make out his eyes, but his rosy nose and lips stood out. He looked flushed and sweaty. One glance at his tag read that the man was named Dr. Truman, part of the bioparanormal team. 

Bioparanormal? What did that mean?

Sebastian cleared his throat, “Uh…yeah, I’m low-rank...sir.”

The man nodded. “Perfect, perfect, that's perfect!” He adjusted his goggles to scratch at his eye before placing them back down. He awkwardly fidgeted with his hands for a moment, pacing in his spot as if he forgot that Sebastian was there. When he finally looked back up at him, he made a face as though he remembered what he was doing, “Come with me!” 

It was funny how he said it as though it were a suggestion. Like his hands weren't cuffed in front of him, like guards hadn’t rushed him out of his room using the tips of their barrels to push him forward. Rather, it was said like he was a fellow coworker the man was excited to show off his latest findings to. He envied how excited the man was able to be at what felt to be an ungodly time. It was difficult to tell the time when you were plunged underwater, but he could feel it in his heavy eyelids.

They led Sebastian to an area of the blacksite that he hadn't seen before. The rooms were much larger. The doors were huge, made to not only fit crowds of people through, but giant trucks loaded with cargo as well. Workers travelled through the rooms. He heard the familiar faint cries he occasionally picked up on while completing his jobs. They were much louder now, the low growls shaking the floor. It all nearly made his heart stop. Just what were they keeping here?

As they walked, Truman occasionally turned to look back at him. His expression was difficult to read. His face changed rapidly, never satisfied. Eventually he clapped his hands together, “So! It's Solace, right? Am I right?” He looked back at him, an eager smile present on his face.

Sebastian hesitated. His name tag was clipped to his jumpsuit, wasn't it? He decided not to answer as he found nothing nice to say in his tired and grumpy state, and he needed to keep a clean record. Comply to get pardoned, he reminded himself. He settled for a nod.

“That’s a nice name. Never heard that one. You’re pretty lucky, some people out there get the short end of the stick when it comes to last names.”

“...Yeah, sure.” Sebastian blinked away the haze that clouded his vision. Truman was extremely talkative, more so than any of the other workers here. Maybe he could get answers. “Hey uh, out of curiosity, is it really possible to get pardoned down here?”

“Oh, someone’s not enjoying their time down here,” He had the audacity to laugh, “that’s only for the prisoners who sign up for more…special tasks, to put it lightly. But cheer up, I’m sure you’ll get that opportunity some time! What we’re doing today won’t qualify for that, unfortunately for you.”

Great.

Truman perked up, “You look nervous, is this your first time?”

“First time doing…what?”

“Oh, you know! Helping out the bioparanormal division- well, not technically. I explained to the big man so many times that I specialize in paranormal beings, but he still insisted on giving me assignments dealing with non-paranormal entities. So even though you’re helping a bioparanormal specialist, you’re not helping the division, but that’s neither here nor there!”

It took Sebastian a solid minute to digest all of what Truman said. “I'm sorry, entities?”

“Oh, so it is your first time! I better not spoil anything in that case.” 

Truman stayed quiet after that, leaving Sebastian to openly gape on his own. Entities? Is that what Urbanshade was about? Studying monsters?

What had he gotten himself into?

Eventually, Dr. Truman led them inside a huge room. Sebastian was pushed inside, the door closing behind him. It was pitch black, save for the little light coming through the giant window. Empty waters sat on the other side of the glass. 

Truman’s voice came over the intercom, “My apologies, we have to keep everything dark. This entity’s eyes are pretty sensitive!” 

Sorry, he was in a room with one? Sebastian’s breathing became shaky. He was going to die, wasn’t he? 

“Now, Solace, your job is going to be very, very simple,” Truman continued, “Am entity is going to come in front of the glass. I’m going to observe how you react to it, and if you survive, then you get to go back to your cell. Easy, right?”

A beat passed by.

Truman didn’t add anything else.

He was serious?

“Alright, get ready!”

Sebastian heard the sound of a heavy gate being lifted. He couldn’t see anything in the window, not for a long while.

But eventually, a subtle green glow emerged from the deep waters.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian froze in place, goosebumps trailing his skin.

“Mom…?” It sounded like her. Exactly like her. But she couldn’t be down here. No.

“Mijo, what are you doing down here? You’re supposed to be home.” Her voice, her words, her tone, her her her her.

This was wrong. All of his senses were screaming that at him. His eyes burning from dryness, his ears ringing, his skin crawling, it all came together to tell him that this was wrong.

And yet he couldn’t look away. Not when the alluring green light grew closer and closer.

“This is all a misunderstanding, Seb. Everyone knows it. They’ll let you come home now that they know.”

Home, that’s all he wanted right now. He wanted to go home.

“They’ll let you go, I know they will. All you have to do is look into my eyes.”

He had been trying so hard to remain strong for his family, for himself. He was tired of it. He just wanted to go home now. Home. All he had to do was look. Then he would be home.

“Look into my eyes.”

Bright green eyes bored holes into his own. It stung staring at them, but it felt so freeing. So comforting. He was going home.

“Good, good, just keep looking into my eyes.”

Her voice was sweet, sickeningly so. It was…wrong. Wrong his senses reminded him, wrong. This wasn’t right. He felt something wet above his upper lip. He looked down as he gently wiped it. Blood. 

“Look back up at me, Sebastian. You want to go home, don’t you?”

Sebastian’s head hurt now that he was looking away. How he had missed such a splitting headache like this before, he was unsure. He looked back up, and this time, it wasn’t the alluring green eyes that caught his attention first, but rather, the giant shark that it belonged to.

You could’ve stacked twenty men and it still wouldn’t have been enough to reach even half of its length. Its grey skin had rips and tears in it, with bright emerald eyes peeking out of every nook and cranny. Fishing hooks and spears decorated its fins, and layers of dead and shredded skin hung off of the beast like it was a thin robe. 

“Look into my eyes, Sebastian. Don’t you want to see your family again?” The voice was loud and ear splitting. It tried so hard to sound familiar, and if he let himself give in, it would have. But he couldn’t let himself fall under its spell again.

Sebastian turned his back to the beast, trying his best to steady his shaking hands. It was as though his skull was getting ripped open, allowing the contents to spill all over the twisting floor that shook beneath him. The once smooth design of it now swirled into shapes and colors until it dissolved into nothingness. 

“Look at me, Sebastian. You’re letting them down, you know? All you have to do is look into my eyes and you’re refusing?”

Sebastian began slowly walking back towards the door. The room swayed in protest, his head naturally trying to swivel back to face the monster behind him. He fought it off with each trembling step. 

“You had no issues signing your life over to Urbanshade. You had no issues moving miles away and burying yourself hundreds of feet underwater. It was so easy to leave them behind, can’t you do them this one favor to make up for it?”

That wasn’t true, it wasn’t true, he couldn’t listen.

“Look. Into. My. Eyes. You’ll never see them again if you don’t! Look at me!” It chanted it.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Look at me.

Sebastian heard the distant sound of the door opening. He heard footsteps. He felt someone grabbing his arms and forcing him forward.

You’ll never see them again, Sebastian. Never.

[realcleverscience]

here's my personal take on this:

The concern over AI very much IS like past freakouts over major tech breakthroughs, like textile industrialization, the advent of coal and oil, the chemical industry, computers, internet, and so much more. Personally, I'm not persuaded by those concerns that were listed:

"pervade our lives" - we already live in an advanced tech age that pervades all aspects of our lives. all of you are reading this on a computer, possibly on a small phone which you keep in your pocket all the time. AI isn't invading space. It's just piggybacking on tech that's already there.

Error rate: A. I fully expect AI error rates to continue to fall. B. Knowing that AI isn't perfect and may require some oversight - just like humans - allows people to still make tremendously use of its output. E.g. A software coder can have an AI do in 10 minutes what would have taken 10 hours. This is useful, even if the coder will have to look through the result and test it out and work out any bugs. This is all the more the case when this is the expectations we already have for people, and the AI can potentially do things which most people can't.

Plagiarism: I think there are some valid concerns here, but I also think this issue is massively overblown for two reasons. 1) Plagiarism is copying someone else's work as your own. AI typically does not spit out copies of other people's work. Instead, like humans, it takes info its acquired over its lifetime of training and uses that to create its own outputs. So I only see plagiarism as an issue in the niche situation where its outputting other people's texts as its own. Further, I expect that issue to get resolved. 2) This assumes that AI will always be trained on "illegally acquired" data. I'm not at all convinced of that. (E.g. there are already photo and video AIs that are being trained on privately owned image/video content, thereby entirely avoiding the plagiarism issues; and as AI/robots continue to grow, they'll be able to collect and create their own data.) Further, I expect that as AI grows, we'll develop legal structures which make it easier to use public data. (e.g. easier ways for people to "opt in" and get paid.)

Environment: I care a lot about the environment but I'm again not worried about this issue. 1) Most tech companies are already working toward net-zero. If the AI requires a state's worth of energy but it's all sourced from renewables or nuclear, I have no major problem with that. 2) AI is getting much better in every domain, including energy efficiency. Just about every week I read about another breakthrough that will soon massively reduce computing costs. (I have a few examples in a post here.) This is a trend which has been going on for literal decades. 3) I want to see a future where, for instance, everyone can get all the medical care they need. To get there, we could expand the population and train a LOT more doctors or we can improve AI. Of the two options, the AI one is a lot faster and more resource efficient (more on that in a second). 4) AI itself is helping us progress for all three of those previous points. The issue with AI isn't its resource needs (which again, are very low compared to humans). The issue is scale. For instance, let's say we create and AI doctor with a resource footprint that's 1/10th that of a human doctor. That's a 90% resource reduction. Great! BUT, the issue is that now everyone on earth will want their own digital doctor. To put the numbers crudely: If 8 billion people each have a digital doctor with 1/10th the footprint, that's like adding 800 million people to our resource budget. So even though the AI is much more efficient and massively growing it's healthcare output, it's still also massively growing our footprint. The issue isn't the application but the scale of application. And frankly, that's been an issue with most of our tech in modern times. When our species only had a million members, it didn't matter if they felled trees or burnt coal bc it didn't add up to much. These days, even when our processes are super efficient, the issue is that there's literally billions of us. As an example, consider hamburgers. Most of us like burgers and buy them regularly, esp as americans. I'd guess that at least 90% of people who are concerned with AI's footprint also eat burgers - even though burgers are currently much more resource heavy than AI. E.g. The average person eats 50kg of meat a year, with a co2 footprint of 3,000kg. In contrast, today, the average person has an AI-based CO2 footprint of 3.5kg per year. And unlike meat, AI is getting more energy efficient. (I got a cool post with some comparison stats here.) So I think the issue here is scale, but again, I think that will be solved by sustainable energy sources and continued computing efficiency gains.

So it's not that I think these issues aren't important, but that I think they're often overblown, taken out of context, and don't take into account tech trends on efficiency.

Personally, I'm really excited about a future where everyone is fed, everyone is housed, and everyone has healthcare. I'm excited about robots helping people with disabilities or helping to repair the ecosystem. I'm excited for radical advancements in medicine like curing all cancers, healing the blind or deaf, and so many more illnesses. I'm excited for a time when we create art for art's sake and not capitalism's sake. I'm excited for a time when no-one *has* to work anymore. But the only way for us to no longer need jobs is for us all to lose our jobs to AI and to restructure our society toward a post-labor future.

'People are panicking about AI tools the same way they did when the calculator was invented, stop worrying' cannot stress enough the calculator did not forcibly pervade every aspect of our lives, has such a low error rate it's a statistical anomaly when it does happen, isn't built on mass plagiarism, and does not obliterate the fucking environment when you use it. Be so fucking serious right now

[sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan]

You Guys Didn't Forget!

(Featuring Confident!Chris x Reserved! Matt x Fem!Reader)

Author's Note: I felt bad for my last two angst fics, so here's some tooth aching fluff 😻 If you like this au, send in asks, personal messages, or write comments about them (This is an original idea of mine. Please inbox or personal message me if you'd like to use any of these characters as 'inspiration' of some sort!)

Contents/Warnings: Mostly just fluff! Implied polyamorus situationship ( no incest & no actual relationship (yet) ! ), pet names (sweetheart & pretty girl), mentions of forgetting a birthday (I don't know, it could be triggering, I guess), & possibly more!

Third Person Point of View

Word Count: 562 (Am I in my lazy girl era? 😖)

To read more about Confident!Chris x Reserved!Matt x Fem!Reader click here !

Taglist: @forgottxen @ariastur9z

(Comment, inbox, or personal message if you would like to be added to this list!)

I do NOT give permission for my work(s) to be copied, translated, or re-uploaded to ANY site!

Want more fics like this? Visit my masterlist !

Enjoy! 💜💙🧡 ☆ :) $

Divider by: @bernardsbendystraws (hopefully it's giving birthday 😅🤞🏽)

It was a few days before her birthday, and the excitement in the air was buzzing. She was blissfully unaware of the grand plans Chris and Matt had been orchestrating. The two brothers, part of a unique triplet set, each cherishing her in their own special way. Their older triplet brother, Nick, played a supportive role, always ready to lend a hand or a listening ear.

Chris and Matt had been holding secret meetings, filled with whispers and laughter, as they planned the perfect surprise party. They spent evenings selecting decorations and brainstorming themes, their excitement growing with each passing day.

The morning of her birthday had arrived, and with it, a twinge of sadness. She couldn't shake the feeling that her friends might have forgotten. Meanwhile, Matt and Chris maintained an air of normalcy, though their hearts raced with anticipation. They finalized last-minute details, making excuses to keep her away from the house, the focal point of their surprise.

Nick, ever the conspirator, took on the task of keeping her occupied. He planned a spa day, filled with pampering and light-hearted conversation, ensuring she remained blissfully unaware of the preparations underway.

“I can't believe they forgot, I've been so excited about my birthday!”

“Well I'm here celebrating with you, girl!”

With the house empty, Chris and Matt set to work, transforming the living room into a vibrant celebration space. Balloons and streamers adorned the walls, and a bold "Happy Birthday!" banner hung proudly. The kitchen table was laden with a beautifully decorated cake, an assortment of snacks, and carefully wrapped presents. Nick, in his eagerness, almost let slip the secret, but a quick save kept the surprise intact.

“Matt and Chris want us to come over for — to hang out,” Nick said casually as they finished up their spa day.

Under the guise of a casual hangout, they invited her over. As she stepped through the door, the lights dimmed, and a hush fell over the room. She took a few steps inside, and suddenly, the brothers leaped from their hiding spots, shouting, "Surprise!" Her eyes widened in shock, quickly melting into joy as the reality of the moment sank in.

Her reaction was everything they had hoped for —initial disbelief followed by a cascade of happy tears.

“Oh my gosh, you guys didn't forget!”

The room filled with laughter and music as they celebrated with games and shared stories. Each gift she unwrapped was proof of their thoughtfulness, leaving her feeling deeply cherished and grateful.

“Thank you all, I love everything so much!”

As the evening wound down, she found a quiet moment to reflect on the day's events. Surrounded by those who cared for her dearly, she realized just how fortunate she was. The warmth of their bond was a promise of enduring support.

She was laying in Chris's bed, in-between both of her boys, Chris and Matt. “Thank you both for today,” she whispered to them, kissing their foreheads gently.

With hearts full, they pledged to always be there for one another, ending the day with a sense of joy that felt like it would last a lifetime.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Chris said, holding her hips and lower half tightly as he reciprocated her kiss to the forehead. “We'll always be here for each other, pretty girl.” Matt added, kissing her forehead also as he held onto her top half.

[jeminie-rising]

One Second Fireworks

[ Inumaki Toge x Reader ]

link to AO3: [ One Second Fireworks by JEMINIE ]

summary: "His eyes now looking for the fireworks in the reflection in your eyes as they looked up in awe."

or, Toge gets called in from the Inumaki Clan for the holidays, but made it back to Tokyo just in time for the last chime of the new years countdown to steal the last grape from you.

warnings: Inumaki Toge uses sign language, Soft Inumaki, Inumaki says more than just rice balls ingredients, fluff, toge and reader being complete idiots in love, no smut!, toge thinks he’s not deserving :(, afab!reader, they're both so in love but can't admit to it (yet), Toge says more than just rice ball ingredients, there might be slight mischaracterisations, found family, everyone ate grapes at midnight, new years eve, Not actually unrequited love (they just shy), Panda is so supportive.

characters: inumaki toge, The Inumaki Clan, Fushiguro Megumi, Itadori Yuuji, Kugisaki Nobara, Zen'in Maki, Panda, slight Satoru Gojo, mentioned Yuta Okkotsu

word count: 5,379

authors note: hii! decided to write a part two of the Inumaki x reader Christmas one shot! will be putting them in a series, so it's easier to read through them. But definitely can be read as solo works too! Told myself that this would be a one shot but when would that actually be followed through? LMAOO (comments get to my head and make me want to write more ngl --they're just so cute pls)

FIND PART ONE HERE (a silent christmas) IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT YET!

and as usual, enjoy!! and happiest new year to everyone xx

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

A lot can happen in a year.

New year, new resolutions, new dreams, and new hopes. But not for you, you had a resolution, a plan, and a dream that has been on standby for nearly a year now. And it didn’t look like it was going to change anytime soon. It hasn’t been long anyways that you’ve known Toge, but it definitely felt longer than what it was. Time with him seemed to stretch just longer than you thought. And while he was away, if it were possible, it seemed unbearably longer. 

“Have you guys counted your own grapes yet?” Nobara called out for everyone.

A silly little thing she and Itadori found online. You couldn't understand how the tradition of the 12 grapes suddenly had to be eaten from under the table. Growing up with your family, you ate the grapes with one another, twelve for the twelve last chimes of the bell of the year, only to be followed by a mouthful of cheers from one another. This year, when your family died, you truly thought you were going to spend it on your own. Fortunately enough, you found your way in the company of some good human friends and an equally great panda friend.

Unfortunately, one of those friends was missing. Inumaki, the same one that you wished, most of all, to be there, was called upon by his clan. He was to spend the holidays with his family, a long held tradition that dated for centuries. Unlike the one that you, Nobara, and Itadori were trying to create that same night. The Inumaki clan showed their solidarity for the members of their family that were cursed with the Snake Eyes and Fangs. For the entirety of the end of the year into the year to come, they were to pass their days in silence. A custom that the holders of cursed speech often had to go through their entire lives.

Toge never cared for having to limit his vocabulary. He never minded it, his friends always could grasp what it is that he wanted to convey anyways. His feelings and ideas always reached the hearts of those he cared for, and although it was hard to not be able to use full words, it was nothing compared to witnessing anyone he cared for be under the curse of his words. That was just what the kind of person Inumaki was. Exactly the reason why you initially fell for him.

Megumi, on the other hand, as the true spirit of his personality, was already complaining into the new year, “I still don’t quite understand why we have to do this? It’s not like we’re Spanish or Lati—”

“IT’S A TRADITION!” Nobara stomped her feet.

“Traditions require a transmission of customs for a regular amount of times, we’re doing this for the first time.” Maki supported Megumi. Perhaps such a personality ran in their blood.

“It will be fun!” Itadori tried to convince them, with his eyes on the clock. Only 27 more minutes left.

“I will eat the grapes, but I am not getting under the table,” Megumi stayed on his chair.

For lack of a better place, they decided to take a classroom of Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College and transform it for their year end’s party. It wasn’t much of course, a few decorations here and there, number shaped balloons showing the year that they were entering, and the food that covered their school desks that lined up in a long table.

“It’s not like I would fit under one either…” Panda chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

“Then perhaps, for solidarity, should we all just not go under the table?” You offered. You didn’t want Panda to feel left out if Megumi and Maki miraculously agreed to crawl under a table.

Itadori couldn’t help but nod to that. He too, would have felt too bad to leave out any member in their little game. “What if we just put the table mantles over our heads!?” 

They all looked at him, his logic may have been a little far fetched but Nobara would have taken anything she could at that point. Time was ticking and she was not going to be single for yet another year. 14 minutes.

“Fine!” She finally agreed to it. “Table mantles… so stupid.”

“More stupid than eating grapes under a table?” Megumi laughed.

“If I am still single by the end of this coming year, y’all going to feel my hammer!”

Compared to crawling under a table, the idea of a table mantle over everyone’s head was not an idea that required as much convincing. Everyone looked like little disfigured ghosts and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of them. 

You looked at your watch. 3 minutes.

Because everyone’s eyesight was covered, no one could keep looking at the clock. For a highly funded government school, it was hard to get a grab on a tv out there for them to use and move into the classroom. None of your teachers allowed for that. So Itadori had his phone propped up with a countdown from a stream online. 2 minutes. And your heart was beating in excitement as you held onto your paper cup filled with twelve grapes. The sensation was familiar to that of when you were near Inumaki. Or that one time he was holding you close, as he hid you from a first grade curse.

Memories of your year started flooding your mind. This could have been the worst year for you. Losing your entire family. Knowing you would have never had your life back and that your future was forever going to be cursed with the presence of… well, curses. But, at the same time, you also met all your new friends. You learned things about the world you thought were only myth and fantasy. You learned things about yourself you never knew. Pushed yourself to limits you never knew you even had. And, somehow, among all of them, the image of Inumaki’s rare exposed smile shone through.

“Here we go!” Nobara urged them, although the time was still long. 36 seconds. Anything could happen in that time. 

In only a few seconds, you were able to reminisce the entirety of a year. In just one, the Earth travels 18.5 miles through space. In just a few seconds, you could try to call Inumaki and confess your undying love for him. In just the few seconds left you had, you grabbed the phone out of your back pocket and reached for Inumaki’s chat.

On the corner of your phone. 23:59.

On your watch. 21 seconds.

On the one-hand-typed message for Inumaki. Happy new year, Inumaki-senpai!

You hesitated, but then continued. I lov…

“Here, here, HERE!” Itadori chanted. 

Your attention now on hearing the bells of the streaming. 15 seconds. And you were considering sending the message before the time so you could focus on the grapes. But in a panic, you placed the cup in the hand that held your phone, without sending the message, and started to get a single grape.

The people in the stream started counting.

TWELVE!

Everyone ate a grape. 

ELEVEN!

Everyone was quiet. Only the sound of people munching and shuffling under their own table mantle could be heard along with the stream of the countdown.

TEN!

You were already struggling with three grapes. Remnants of the first grape were still at the back of your mouth, unable to swallow it all.

NINE! 

You saw three dots bubbling from your phone. 

EIGHT!

Your heart started to pound more as you tried to keep up with the grape counting and try to read whatever message you were about to receive.

SEVEN!

There was still no message. The sign of Inumaki typing was still there. You had to wonder if he was doing his own countdown or was he laying in his bed at home as silence haunted his estate.

SIX!

“I don’t have grapes of my own :(“ His text read. How did he know you guys were doing grapes? Your mind quickly went to Itadori, who kept updating him with pictures of each of you as the holidays went. You chuckled.

Hearing your chuckle, the others thought you were struggling with the grapes as they were.

“Dish ish soh ARD!” Itadori said in a mouthful.

FIVE!

“OCUS!” Nobara tried to bring their attention to the grapes. It was quite a hard feat.

FOUR!

You checked your phone again, the screen still on Inumaki’s chat. There were bubbles again. Oh, he definitely wasn’t counting down with family.

“Can I have some? :)” His text read.

THREE!

You see two feet in front of you. Who was walking around while eating the grapes?

You didn’t have much time to worry about it for now, Nobara might just scold your ass into the new year, as you stuffed your face with grapes. 

TWO!

Then one hand lifted your table mantle enough to reveal Inumaki standing right in front of you. The shock of seeing him there made you freeze in your place. Grape between your two fingers.

ONE!

You forgot all about the twelve grapes. Eleven were already mushed inside your puffed cheeks, while the last one was now in Inumaki’s mouth, lips brushing against your fingers where it was just a second ago.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Inumaki winked at you. All you could do back was blink. 

Everyone else removed their mantles too as the chimes stroke twelve and let out mouthful greetings and cheers. Inumaki was quick. He let go of the mantle he kept up to look at you and turned around to the others.

“Inumaki-senpai?!” Itadori reacted first, quite dumbfounded.

“TOGE! You made it!” Panda greeted him with a hug.

“[name] get out of there!” Nobara called out for you, still a table mantle on your head. “Look, Inumaki is here!”

You lifted the mantle with your free hand. The one Inumaki helped himself with by eating your last grape from. Your expression is still in shock, which worked in favour of Inumaki. It was exactly how he wanted you to look like, to not bring the others any suspicion.

“Uh– uhm,” you stammered your first few words of the year, “H-happy new year, Inumaki-senpai.”

The boy tilted his head as he smiled towards you. His cute crinkles framed his eyes. You couldn’t help but blush.

“Kelp!” He said, now to everyone present. “Tuna tuna!”

“You wanted to surprise us?! That is so sweet, Toge!” Panda feigned tears.

“Salmon!”

You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him. Your mind went through so many things. He often played pranks. He often aimed them at you and Itadori. Mostly because of how gullible you both were sometimes. But why did he have to wink at you and make your heart beat so fast?

You entered the new year with arrhythmia. 

“Hey, let's cheer!” Itadori suggested.

This gave you the right excuse to keep your mind off of things. With decisive steps you walked towards the tables lined up and grabbed sparkling soda you guys bought. Being minors, they didn’t quite allow you to buy even the mildest of sparkling wines. Even though Gojo thought he could sneak some for you guys, Nanami highly pushed that idea aside by dragging him far from you and left with only a warning.

You were lining up the cups when Panda joined you. Quite surprised to see him there beside you, when one of his best mates just arrived from out of thin air. But he was there, grabbing the half empty bottle of soda, as he started to fill the lined up cups.

“You should talk to him,” Panda said as he filled the second cup.

“What?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

You stood there silently for a second, “why me? Why not talk to me?”

Panda only let her sit in her words for a few seconds as he stared at her from the corner of his eyes. 

“Okay fine, I do realise the stupidity of my words,” she admitted. “But that’s exactly my point! I can’t do words when it comes to Inumaki-senpai!”

Panda chuckled, “You have a far greater vocabulary than him, I am sure you can string along some words to make up something good enough. Besides, he would understand you even without pretty words.”

You tilted your head at him confused.

“The Inumaki clan… learnt how to communicate with their heart,” he explained.

You sat on his few words for a while, until he finished filling up the last cup, calling the others to get their own cups. It didn’t take long before everyone had their paper cups up in the air, cheering for the new year ahead.

“To us!” Itadori cheered.

“To less missions!” Nobara said.

“To even lesser hard exams,” Panda pleaded.

“Spicy cod roe!” Inumaki brought Maki and Megumi closer.

“Cheers, guys!” Maki joined the enthusiasm.

“Cheers,” Megumi said, not as excitedly as the others but with a clear smile on his face.

“To Gojo-sensei for having begged the principal for us to use this classroom!” You laughed.

“TO GOJO-SENSEI!” Everyone clinked their cups together.

Everyone downed their soda in a matter of seconds. Being just sparkling sugar, you’d think they were drinking alcohol from the expressions they were making. Inumaki stepped towards you, although his mouth was already covered just after drinking soda, you could tell he was wearing a smile. 

You looked at him, awaiting for one of his ingredients to be called out. But instead he pointed towards your pocket, where you stored your phone away. It didn’t take you long to understand he was calling for it. Was he going to use it to type out what he needed to say? Wouldn’t have been the first time. He often used your phone to type out whatever complex thing he had to say. 

However, this time, when he took your phone after you unlocked it, he didn’t open the Notes app. You weren’t looking at the screen, after all this time, you learnt to wait patiently for him to finish typing instead of pressuring him by hoarding his space.

After chuckling at your phone, he faced your own phone towards you. The screen flashed onto your chat with him. It confused you at first, until you read the half-typed message you had for him.

Happy new year, Inumaki-senpai! I lov

Your eyes widened. Your following actions fast, as you reached out to grab your phone. However, his were even quicker, pulling his hand back in the air. You knew, with your current fighting skills, you could only take on Inumaki for a little more than a minute before he had you floored. He was the only semi first grader among the students present anyways. With the dress and heels you were wearing, insisted by Nobara, you could bet it was even less than so. Even without the use of his cursed speech.

“Inumaki-senpai please–” 

“Bonito flakes,” He cut you off by shaking his head, and continued wiggling his eyebrows “Tuna~?”

You looked around, everyone was busying themselves by talking to one another. It wasn’t new anyways that Toge teased you, so they did not bat an eye as you cried out for your phone. But you still hushed your voice as you stepped closer to him, “I was typing with one hand! I had my cup in hand, my fingers must have slipped–”

He shook his head again, this time chuckling at you.

“It’s true!” You insisted. 

It wasn’t far from the truth, anyways. But you couldn’t help but think if this would have been a good opportunity to finally tell him how you felt. You could have let your past self say what your present self couldn’t, but not like this. Not from a message. You didn’t want to confess to your crush through half-written unsent text.

You thought maybe it was time, maybe you could welcome the new year by following through your backlog of resolutions. You gathered all the courage you had before you could hear a loud bang, bringing all of you to attention outside. Being trained sorcerers your first instinct was to get ready for a fight, but it all seemed silly as colours filled the night sky of Tokyo.

“FIREWORKS!” You, Itadori, and Nobara exclaimed. You already forgot all about the half-written confession you had. Fireworks now filled your view and entire mind.

“Let’s go out!” Itadori jumped, not even grabbing a scarf to warm himself before hopping over the big window to the outside.

You laughed, only to follow him excited as he was. Forgetting all about your own jacket too, and other matters, in the building. Excitement was enough to warm you up.

“Hey, wait for us!” Panda was trying to follow suit, as he wrapped himself with a scarf before getting out. It wasn’t long before everyone had followed after Itadori, who was completely immersed in the fireworks that they all could see in the skies. 

These had to be programmed by the city of Tokyo, you thought, there was no way civilians could master nor have enough money to afford such grand fireworks. Your group managed to get a hold of sprinklers and small fireworks that you had planned to light up in the courtyard. But they were nothing as beautiful as the ones in the sky.

You had your head tilted back, admiring the lights. You have always adored lights. Your family would always bring you to firework shows and other kinds of light shows, since you were a child. When the biggest streets of a city would finally put up their Christmas lights, you were always there for the first night of lighting it up. The winter holidays season was always your favourite, only followed by the summer festivals with their crazy firework shows. 

The memories of the summer festivals’ fireworks warmed you up enough to forget it was actually dead winter that night. It didn’t occur to you the cold that was beginning to crinkle up from your feet. You looked around to your friends, all of them were also looking at the skies, smiles planted on everyone’s face –even gloomy Megumi.

“That one had to be the biggest one yet!” Nobara screamed to be heard by everyone.

“No! There’s gonna be a bigger one –I know it!!” Itadori jumped.

“Salmon!” Inumaki couldn’t help but agree with Itadori. And just like that, a sprinkle of bright silver almost enveloped the entire sky in a big big dome. Everyone wow-ed in a chorus, and Inumaki had to take away his eyes from the beautiful show long before the sprinkles were gone, only to look at your reaction.

He inched closer, with intentions in his step. His eyes now looking for the fireworks in the reflection in your eyes as they looked up in awe.

Perhaps the whole ‘you're the most beautiful view’ was quite cheesy for his tastes, but he couldn’t help but be exactly that whenever it came to you. He always found cheesy lines lame, overly sweet love songs cringy, and in love characters in movies who refused to be together for the smallest inconveniences to be stupid to the point of frustration. But hell was he starting to understand them the days he first met you.

It wasn’t quite exactly love at first sight. You came to the school all battered up, it was only a few days after Itadori had come in, and everyone was surprised to see a new student so soon. Your eyes, unlike right now, were hollow and at a loss of life. Inumaki only heard of what happened to you. Losing your family and that same night, being approached by a stranger with blindfolds, who insisted on you following him to a quite suspicious secluded school claiming all sorts of weird things (knowing Gojo-sensei, he wasn’t the best at explaining what curses were and this new world was that you were about to embark in). 

When Inumaki saw you for the first time, your head was tilted down instead of up to look at the sky. His first feelings towards you were out of sympathy. He wasn’t quite sure when the many other feelings began to creep in. Maybe it was the way you’d always make space in the conversation for him. The way you asked him questions so he could just say yes or no to them. The way you began to bring around an extra bottle of cough syrup with you in your pocket for him even when neither of you were on a mission.

But he knew it for sure the day of his birthday. You’ve been in the school for a few months by then and he wasn’t sure how it was that you found out about his birthday. But you had prepared a gift just for him. You insisted it was silly, and that it might have been more work for him than giving him a normal material gift, but in his heart, that was everything.

Feeling some eyes on you, you looked around to see Inumaki already staring at you. A hidden soft smile planted on his face. You tilted your head to the side, smiling at him. Clearly you already have forgotten your interaction earlier. Inumaki couldn’t help but chuckle again at you. Quite adorable, he wished to say.

You brought your finger up to point at him. He followed your gestures, already locking in to read them. Then you brought the same hand to both of your shoulders, the left then the right, tilted your head again to show your worry. 

Are you okay?

Inumaki couldn’t help but smile fondly. That was one of the first few things he learnt ever since you gave him that guided tutorial on basic Japanese Sign Language for his birthday. Turned out, ever since you met him, you’ve been studying how to do sign language to effectively talk with him. Then, ever since his birthday, he caught up with you, almost being better at it than you are, despite how much longer you took to learn.

Inumaki gave you a shake of the head. But gave no other gestures to explain himself. You could only frown, but your hands were instinctively already going towards your pocket. Inumaki knew what you hid in there –his cough syrup– he stopped your hand with his own, feeling how cold yours were compared to his.

Having followed Itadori out without thinking, you left your jacket inside. Fortunately, Inumaki was more prepared than you, and he calmly but surely took off his own jacket to place it around your shoulders.

“Oh no, I am okay!” You insisted.

But Inumaki was shaking his head once again, “Bonito flakes.”

You frowned, “why aren’t you okay? Are you not enjoying the fireworks?”

Being so close to one another, you didn’t have to scream to be heard from one another. You could have raised your voices a little louder, but at that point, both of you were quite scared to be heard by the others a few steps away from you.

“Bonito flakes,” Inumaki replied, smiling. At this point, you already knew all the expressions he could give with just the use of the upper part of his face.

“What is it then?” You asked, encouraging sign language by already looking at his hands for some gestures.

However, Inumaki didn���t do any sign language. Instead, he brought out your phone again, having kept it in his hand that whole time. Refusing to let go of it, as if he couldn’t let go of the half-written message you left in it. Only then, the realisation of what happened earlier came back to you in a flash. Another firework banged the moment you lost a beat of your heart.

“Oh,” was all you could manage to say.

You stayed there, fidgeting on his jacket, closing it in –partly in hopes to hide yourself under it. Inumaki, though, he waited patiently for you. Something he found himself having to do more than you did for him. With his limitations, he learnt how to effectively communicate with the little he had in record times. However, with all the words, sign language, texting, and writing you could manage, you still struggled to form anything close to coherent that could have you satisfied. Your conversation with Panda came back to your mind. 

But before you could muster even the lamest word you could think of, Inumaki called for your attention, “Tuna.”

Although he was patient, he also was eager. He wanted to start this new year already, and, in his mind, he couldn’t begin it until he made sure of your feelings. You looked up at him, and as much as he wanted to hear you say the words, he could see it all in your eyes. That was one thing he was most glad to have inherited and learnt from his family. Communication from the heart. No words needed. And although it may have come unintentional to you, Inumaki could have understood all your emotions from the day you stepped into Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College.

All the words you never said, but showed instead. Before you even started conversing in sign language, before you could even get a grasp of his onigiri ingredients, you could already speak his language –that of the heart.

But as crystal clear and plain as day as it was for him, his feelings might have not been clear to you without speaking them. He couldn’t expect you, nor anyone, to know his thoughts and feelings without expressing them. Maybe that’s why you asked him so many questions. It was your own very way to know his feelings and thoughts. However, this time around, it was his turn to close that gap.

For the many times she adjusted to him, he was ready to adjust his own language to her.

You brought your index finger up and shook it, and asked, “what is it?”

Time seemed not to pass. For Inumaki, it was still midnight. It was still the same second he got courage to eat your last grape from your fingers. For him, the only sign of time passing were the fireworks changing in the background. Unlike the warm lights from that Christmas eve at his estate, many different colours lightened up your face.

With only that, he got enough courage to finally say it. May all the precautions be thrown out the window. He was always scared to fall in love. He was never sure how it would turn out to be in a relationship where he couldn’t even say how he felt. But the more time passed, the more it seemed possible with you. A fever dream, suddenly, became a goal –a reality.

He slowly unzipped his collar, showing his entire face. You, with the bunch of times you’ve seen his bare face, were still quite hypnotised by the tattoos on both his cheek. Once you got a snippet of the one on his tongue, making you wonder how much it hurt to get it –or was it something he was born with like his curse? That was a question you haven’t gotten to ask yet, you thought.

Inumaki noticed how you shook your head slightly, before bringing your eyes back up to his, with a slight blush on your face. This little act made him smile, and it took a little bit of his nerves to not hide himself behind his collar again. How was it that it only took a little undone zipper, to make you both so bashful.

He sighed deeply, calming himself to regain the confidence he had just a second ago. He clapped his hands on his face, and this surprised you quite a bit. But the surprise was enough to melt the nerves away, making you giggle at the oddity of the moment.

He brought his hands to your shoulders, begging again for your attention, “Tuna.”

“Yes,” you nodded, for how little you could hear him in between the fireworks, you focused on him. “I’m listening.”

He slowly brought both of his thumb and index finger to each side of his chin. Each finger on his tattoos. He kept them there for a few fireworks exploding in the sky. Frozen.

“Inumaki-senpai?” You asked, your eyes slightly widened. 

He wasn’t done, of course. He had one more gesture to do, in order to say what he wanted to say, but your mind was already trotting like a horse at thousands kilometers per hour. You knew that sign –or at least the one he was setting himself up for. You used it constantly.

It was one of the first few things you learned to express yourself to him. On a summer day, how you liked the flavour of ice cream you picked, but preferred his. How when you were starting to get to know him, you told him how you liked science as a subject but absolutely loathed maths. And of course, you often used it to talk about your favourite movies and shows. There was not a day that passed when you wouldn’t use it. Inumaki, seeing you do it countless times, got the hang of the kind of person you were. Loving and expressive.

He needed to take your example.

He began to slide the fingers to connect them at the tip of his chin. But then it was disrupted by Itadori’s cheers.

“Happy new year guys!”

He hugged the both of you, each arm on each of you bringing you closer to him. Inumaki could only see Panda by the side of his view crossing his arms in an ‘X’ over his head to Itadori. But it was too late. The moment was gone. Another came flooding in from the group of friends.

Inumaki didn’t even notice the lack of fireworks. They were done, marking the end of his chance. That second to midnight lasted almost an hour and he still didn’t make it. He was disappointed, sure, but it took one look at you to see you laughing for him to forgive the others’ disruption rather quickly.

“Spicy cod roe!” He cheered with them after a small sigh of defeat.

“Happy new year, Itadori!” You laughed under his arm.

“Let’s get in to continue the party!” Nobara started ahead, rubbing her hands together in the cold. You were pretty sure she wanted to go back in to get warm. 

The others didn’t idle, following her suit. It was only you who hesitated for a second, looking up to the sky. There were no more fireworks, you’ve missed most of them, but it was alright. You had a moment with Inumaki. You weren’t fully sure what he was about to say (or sign), but you had a moment. What was left of the fireworks were only smokey clouds and stars that, despite the lights of the city, could still be seen.

There weren’t many, but they were there. A bunch. Shining above you all as you entered the new year. And even if the others weren’t seen, you knew they still were there. Exactly like what Inumaki knew your feelings to be. You still haven’t fully confessed your feelings, but he knew they were there. And for now, as he watched you look up to the sky for stars while wearing his coat, he was just going to have to be content with it.

“Happy new year, [name].”

You looked down at Inumaki, hearing his voice again saying something other than onigiri ingredients since Christmas. Your heart started to beat faster, but this time, there were no fireworks to hide it. You only wished he was far enough to not hear it slamming against your chest. With his wish for you you could feel the new year starting great and only becoming better.

You smiled at him, as he zipped his collar back up. A faint smile hid slowly behind it and you could swear his mouth moved more, but his collar was already all the way up for you to hear or read his lips.

“Happy new year, Inumaki-senpai!”

[tousey-mousy]

Dune absolutely did not need to take place in the year 10,191 CE. It only does so because Herbert uses the concept of a "myriad" quite extensively as a symbolic thing. His date of 10,000-and-change CE isn't meant to be a literal "it would take this long for this to happen" thing, but rather because Herbert was a (possibly somewhat lax) student of Greek history. The Grecian concept of the myriad - a number that is both literally equal to 10,000 but metaphorically means "uncountably many, effectively infinite" - has been a staple of mythology and fiction writing for, now, several thousand years (at least 3,000).

Herbert uses "a period of 10,000 years" to symbolically represent infinity: in Dune, the historical record has been stagnant "for 10,000 years" not just in a strictly literal sense, but specifically to indicate that "it is so long no mind alive can even conceive of it ever having been different, much less that it could be made to be so by living men".

So, the date of "10,191" is only literal in the most strictly narrative senses. It should not, by a thinking reader, be taken as being even remotely important as dates go: its primary purpose is symbolism first, location in a time-stream last.

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The Foundation series taking place in the 12,000s is relevant. Some of the things that it regards as "so ancient in history that barely any academics even know major details other than that they occurred and that many elements of key things are permanently lost to the mists of time" are, from our perspective, things that could only take place in the far distant future. The entire point of the series is considering things over a period of time that is so long that entire civilisations could be born, grow, expand out into the stars, fragment into a thousand smaller civilisations, have THEM grow and expand, and then die out... and that could happen multiple times over without anyone noticing.

So, with the Foundation series specifically, I would suggest that the time scale is necessary. It probably doesn't need to be 12,000 CE specifically, but it would certainly need to be many thousands of years into the future. The literal conceit is "can we cut a predicted future timescale down to a mere millennium, and not many tens of millennia?"

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Warhammer 40K is, as txttletale notes, absolutely comically far in the future... and I think that's pretty obviously the point. I've not consumed a massive amount of the content, but as far as I can pick up the idea of it being 40,000 years in the future is just a part of the comedy of the setting. It's the space opera version of "everything's bigger in Texas!" The timescales are comedically long, the wars are comedically large and bloody, the orks are comedically stupid and power their technology entirely ON comedy and narrative necessity. The point isn't to have it literally be set 40,000 years hence, but simply that it's so insane that it couldn't really be anything BUT that insane.

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Not familiar with Mutineer's Moon or Battlestar Galactica, but I can comment that Star Wars is another example like Dune. It doesn't need to have been that long ago or lasted that long, the only point is that it's meant to be "a number so large that it is, for all practical human purposes, essentially infinity".

Unlike Dune, though, which uses it for symbolic reasons to do with the concepts of decay & stagnation, changelessness, and the learned helplessness that comprises our idea of the futility of human struggle... Star Wars does it to indicate the setting. It is an element of the worldbuilding because it is a fantasy world, not a science-fiction one, and it uses the notion of those absurd, laughable timescales just to say "just fucking shut up, FTL has always existed, fine you want a number okay 30,000 years, how's that feel huh?" It's just a part of the magical reality of Star Wars universe life. Magic is real and we've always had FTL travel and the universe has always been like this, it came into existence like this, shut up asking about where it came from or who invented it okay!! Sheesh!!

It's less about the duration and more about the symbolism. It's symbolising "this world has always existed, but since nerds will be nerds and Lucas is one of them, he slapped a number onto something that didn't need one".

Honestly, I think Star Wars would actually have benefited from a LONGER duration there, to really hammer the point home. It should have been 3 million years: at that point, nobody can conceivably argue it's an actual real date, and it becomes clear it's meant to be symbolic.

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I'll add to this, Tears of the Kingdom. The Zelda series has always taken place over a vast timeline but TotK makes it massively longer by saying "whatever number we said before, add 10,000 years". I've seen a lot of fans misunderstanding this as an actual date? And putting it into timelines? And trying to count years? This is missing the point.

Much like the Greeks, the Japanese had and have a concept similar to the myriad. The 'man' is literally "10,000" but is used extensively in idioms and other turns-of-phrase to just mean "infinite" or "uncountable" or "beyond reckoning". Specifically, in TotK, the Zelda timeline is thrust back by "10,000 years when we see Zelda travelling to the past, and the timeline says it's '10,000' years? But it's actually an idiom that's been mistranslated. A much more accurate translation would be something like "time immemorial": Zelda has travelled back "so far into the past that the world is beyond memory". It's basically just saying "don't worry about it".

starting an elite paramilitary black ops group who sneak into the homes of authors and cut one to three zeroes off any number of years given in a fantasy or sci-fi novel