#going through it while a neighbour was drilling stuff

[unwillingadventurer]

Next chapter done!

[dailyadventureprompts]

Hello Dapper. I don’t really expect too much about this, but do you have any ideas for Wargs? They have an interesting relationship with goblins and are weird in that they’re essentially sapient wolf monsters, but I don’t think they’re ever really used that creatively.

Monsters Reimagined: Wargs, wolf panics, and the Economics of Lupophobia

While the surface level answer is pretty simple (warg is a conversion of varger, an old Norse way to refer to mythological wolves like Fenrir) there's actually a surprising amount of material to drill into here on the topic of sapient wolf monsters, especially for someone like me who has a interest in moral panics and mass hysteria events. Wolves were effectively a boogyman for pre-industrial societies, a deep seated generational fear that we only recognize today through cultural relics like the big bad wolf or boy who cried wolf.

TLDR: If you want to do something interesting with wargs beyond just "wolves that talk" I'd advise playing to their folk / fairytale roots. They're creatures of embodied dread, drawn from the stuff of the feywild to sow fear among those who would travel off the path or too close to the wilderness. This lets you tell interesting stories about how the party/major characters respond to fear: Does fear of being attacked in the dark drive the party to make risky decisions that might endanger their quest? How do the villagers react when the wolves are very literally at the door, demanding just one of their neighbours as a meal in exchange for safety?

I'd also advise getting weirder with a warg's powers, playing into that fear of the unknown by doing unexpected things. The party can fight off a pack of wolves, sure, but what does it mean when the lead wolf rips off the bard's shadow and takes off into the night?

Background: If you want a window into the headspace of wolf-panic, think about the neigh omnipresent fear of sharks created by the Jaws franchise. Children who have never seen the movie, let alone seen a shark in person can become irrationally afraid of getting into deep water because they've absorbed the pervasive cultural phobia, which goes onto shape environmental policy as sharks are overhunted or killed out of spite for their perceived threat.

So it was for wolves, even after they were largely hunted to near extinction by medieval and postmedieval societies, the fear of them was so ingrained into cultural traditions that wolf and werewolf panics were a thing that went hand in hand with witchtrails. France had a country wide one as late as the 1760s and the movie based on it ended up inspiring Bloodborne. Alternatively look at the anti-wolf efforts during the colonization of the Americas, right up to the opposition to reintroducing wolves back to Yellowstone park.

On that note (and because we can't have a Monsters Reimagined without some kind of class analysis), lets talk about how these fears are propagated: On many levels it makes sense for everyday people to be afraid of wolves, they're a hunting species that can absolutely pose a danger to us, and when you're living or travelling outside the protection of a settlement you really are vulnerable to a coordinated pack of carnivores running you down.

However, the primary threat that wolves pose to humans isn't predation, it's property damage, specifically in how they kill livestock. While we can talk about individual farmsteads beset by beasts, in reality the herds that wolves were most likely to prey upon belonged to the landowning classes, powerful people who had a profit incentive in seeing wolves driven off or exterminated. This is where you get bounties on dead wolves, not just paying for the value of the hide but actively rewarding people for going out and killing as many wolves as possible to the point of it becoming a profession. This practice has existed for MILLENIA and is still active today, primarily in places where big agriculture influences governments.

It seems incidental at first but then you realize that it fits the model of just about every other kind of cultural panic: widespread ignorance and fear that just so happens to mobilize the populace in a way that financially benefits a select few. You can see the same thing happening today in england with badgers of all things, which have been identified with the local dairy industry as a threat to their herds. This is not only led them to petition the government to cull the badger population, but to put out anti-badger propaganda, eventually turning it into a culture war issure to the point where conservative mouthpieces like Jeremy Clarkson openly encourages killing and gassing badgers on sight.

Returning to the land of fantasy for now: I think it's worth taking the idea of the warg and mixing it with a few other "black dog" cultural archetypes, which can also include the creatures like the shuck or church grimm. In this instance the warg is a sort of curse made manifest, the fear of a haunted place given literal teeth. People who transgress into these forbidden spaces find themselves pursued by a manifestation that dogs them till they're exhausted and vulnerable, much like a wolf harrying its prey.

The bhargest is also of special interest here, considering how I like to relate goblins back to the feywild. You could easily see bhargests as agents of fey that feed on human fear, leading a pack of goblins or hobs that occupy the desolate lands they've called to haunt. My version of Maglubiyet would also delight in employing such creatures as his emissaries.

Going back to the vargr/ Norse mythology angle, it's interesting that most of the wolves that show up are destined to devour something, whether it be a god or celestial certanty like the moon and sun. It's like the concept of an inevitable chase is so fundimental to what a wolf IS that it became a theme of ragnarok's inevitable certantly. Consider having certan packs of wargs be offspring of some fenrir style god eater, beasts of forboding doom who's mere presence is an omen of ill times.

Alternatively, if you wanted to play on the big bad wolf angle, give wargs the ability to take on flimsy human disguises, all the better to get close to their pray and sow fear among the townsfolk. Historical wolf panics after all are not all that different than serial killer panics, and it'd be a fun twist on a traditional werewolf adventure to have the party on a creature that didn't play by the usual lycanthropic rules.

Artsource

[sparkledfirecracker]

Over 100! Damn, girl, I bow to your ideas.

For WIP ask game, please tell me more about:

FA Curtis part 2 - M&H spin off

I know 🙈. All abandoned projects, waiting patiently to be finished. Couldn’t help but chant “shame, shame, shame.” In my head.

So Curtis I my mob dom from my Family Affairs series.

The base story for this project stems from writing I’ve done during a period I went through therapy after an impactful traumatic event that shaped me in who I am today. So parts of this story are extremely close to my heart and everything I’ve written on paper back then, I still own and is safely tucked into cabinet where I hold all my old writing. Storylines grew, series expanded and developed into much more than I could’ve imagined thanks to @wakingbeauty and @dreamlessinparis.

For anyone not familiar with Talk To Me. Curtis is part of the mob gang ran by his cousin. Duchess is his neighbour and they have regular fun evenings together as friends. One thing leads to another. Shit hits the fan along with sexy stuff. It’s a hefty one though, 17k words.

Anyway - this second part follows up on that. Working through that trauma, Duchess loses herself in trying to find coping mechanisms and ways to keep her from falling asleep (the event played out again in a nightmare form). She ends up suggesting multiple things for Curtis to try out that she’s comfortable with trying. Before settling on something they both fully agree to and fits both of them as a dom and sub.

Anyway, enough of me chatting about this, sexy yet dark stuff under the cut, read at your own risk. Plus a little, not connected yet, cute bit. Totally unedited, so yes, multiple mistakes to be found probably.

TW: sexual assault reliving.

Curtis rocked his hips meeting yours, you could see the flashes with each rut. Trying to keep seeing Curtis in the features in front of you became harder the closer you got. Your chest rapidly pounded, making your breathing harder. Hands pressed against his chest, trying to stop him as the words became lost in the limber spot of your mind.

Too late, you cried and started to fight him. His face morphed into the one you had so desperately wanted to forget. Your screams filled the air, begging and pleading to make it stop.

Everything stopped as you cried and squeezed your eyes shut curling up into a ball the moment you had a chance.

Flinching at the contact of his hand on your skin in order to retract it again.

“Leave me alone.” You sobbed hiding your face into a pillow.

“It’s okay, I’m here.” Curtis cooed. “It’s me, Curtis.”

“Go away.”

You felt the mattress bouncing back, you could hear the click of the door. Tears uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as you cried into the fabric. Dirty and ashamed of the power he still had over you.

Heaving at the thought of the events, how he had rutted his hips at an uncontrollable rapid pace that wasn’t pleasant. How you had begged and pleaded for him to stop, how you had struggled against the restraints. Feeling him smirk as he took in your helpless feeling. Getting off on your struggling sobs as he drilled your core at the vigorous tempo.

The way he had told you, you had deserved it to be treated like such a slut. That taking something from Curtis was the best thing he had ever done. That seeing him suffer for his wrongdoings was all his pleasure while he fucked his girl.

Your body froze at the cold cloth being pressed against your clammy forehead. Curling up into a ball even more as you shut your eyes. The horrible memories flooding back at a rapid pace. A door unlocked that should’ve been closed.

“You can’t keep buying me stuff Curtis.” You protested as he pushed you down on the small bench.

“You’re worth every penny.”

You watched him remove the lid of the shoebox. The gorgeous heels revealed, the strap having a giant bow on them. You had seen them weeks ago in a magazine thinking they’d go well with the dress you had chosen for the upcoming wedding event.

“I love them, thank you.” You smiled as you checked over your outfit and showed off your feet in the mirror.

——

You giggled at the tickled of his beard on your skin. Your panties being pulled down, watching him struggle getting them around the bows. “Curtis, my shoes.”

“I bought you these shoes, so I can fuck you in them - duchess.” He didn’t miss a beat and his words only added to your growing desire for him.

Grabbing your ankle he lifted your leg, kissing your ankle with soft lips working his way down paying extra attention to roam the skin of your thigh. Gentle soft kisses placed with intention. This wasn’t his normal strategy, but you welcomed the change.

[pullingheavendown]

time for oversharing.

Keep coming back here, scattering little pieces of myself for myself to find some day, maybe, if we ever think to turn around; if we ever realize the pieces are missing. Bread crumb trail for a starving soul. A red string through the woods for a broken boy toy. (Crue's goddamn journals, 2009)

I used to think I didn't have an inner world, not the way a lot of systems talk about having one. And then pieces started coming back to me: the vivid, borderline lucid, recurring nightmares I would have at times. I would revisit the same places in my dreams. Go through the same motions, with minor variations, always trapped. The world around me would go through some cataclysmic event -- my neighbourhood slowly destroyed by lava we all know is coming but no one thinks to escape. An invading force coming slowly through the city, and you can hear the people in the nearby neighbourhoods being massacred, but you cannot escape; eventually they are at your door.

Eventually whatever it is arrives. Eventually there is no escape. Eventually you wake up feeling hollow, punched through, scared and sick, the details evaporating. You never remember until the next time the dream comes. There's just the fear drilled through you, and that lingers for the next day or two.

The dreams eventually started having a taint to them, like a haunted house. Something bad happened here, I'd think, walking through the same hallways, the same streets, the same particular places some part of me had been trapped in last time. There are a lot of them: some are made up, nonsensical places, like a motel by the ocean that will be flooded and that connects to some underground orca-viewing tunnels, I guess. Sometimes it's a tsunami. Sometimes it's the whales themselves turning violent. Some of them are just places we lived, once: it's the elementary school we went to that gets overrun by lava, or it's our apartment in TO being scaled by monsters while we listen to our neighbours be eaten alive, executed, run through.

My heart is fluttering in my throat and I am just trying to get the words out in some order. Sorry.

Last night was a place I'd only been to once or twice before. Before, they were dream of running: an abandoned, massive, 50 storey hotel that connects to another, mirror building via underground tunnels. Someone always chasing me through them, me trying to use the maze to get away, their relentless pursuit always gaining ground, me eventually trapped somewhere and realizing there is no getting out. Elevators stop working. Staircases become recursive. Whatever thing is hunting me knows this place better than I do and I cannot leave. No doors ever open, it's just hallways and hallways, and...

Last night that hotel fell apart. Last night it was crumbling around us, bombarded by some army. But my sister was there (and I know she was there for the Real Bad Stuff that happened when we were kids), and I couldn't save her. Couldn't save her from the walls falling in on top of her, couldn't save my cats from running away into the danger, couldn't stop staring at the flashing red emergency lights, couldn't stop choking on dust and debris. The whole construct was destroyed. For whatever reason I was carrying around some deformed, half-gremlin looking newborn my sister had just given birth to and I couldn't keep it safe. I couldn't bring myself to leave, either. I just froze, and waited for whatever was going to happen.

(One of the cats, the more emotionally support-animal one IRL, spent the entire night screaming at me. I kept waking up, worrying something was wrong with him, and getting this dream in snatches between shouting fits. I thought he was sick but now I'm wondering if he just sensed something was deeply fucked up with me last night. He does that. If I have so much as a sniffle or an infection, he's all over me until it's better.)

If what I'm remembering about my dad from yesterday is real (it is) -- then I think this hotel, this conjoined monstrosity, was the mental construct we put memories about him in, so to speak. I think the maze of hallways and stairs and elevator shafts was a way to disorient ourselves, to keep whatever's inside those rooms inaccessible. And maybe it coming down around us is a last ditch effort to keep those memories contained, or maybe someone needed it destroyed to finally be free of it. I don't know. No real memories came out of it, just the fear and panic and dread, just this endless heart fluttering sensation in my throat.

All of it started with me having one of those dissociative drop attacks where I just couldn't stay conscious anymore. I just had to shut down, flip that switch, be Gone and let that other deeper subsystem take over, which almost always means being catatonic and "asleep." I think they were drugged a lot. A lot of therapy has been trying to reconnect with them without losing total touch with reality at the same time, because something about that always means they are just... so out of it.

But no rage. And no self-loathing. I'm now so fucking exhausted I want to cry from that alone, and I know I'm using pronouns in the most loosey goosey way possible in here because it's the you/we/I narrator problem we have, but no rage.

Just so much fear. I think the fear was real. I think the feeling of not being able to escape was real. I think the pain of understanding what was happening to us was real. And our brain just shoved it into compartments, which became hotel rooms, and now that the memories are threatening to come back about my dad specifically, it's going to start cracking at the foundations.

Buckle up, I guess. I'm not sure what else there is to do at this point. Buckle up and be prepared for whatever fragments come through the cracks.

...

The memory of my dad was of a time when I (not knowing about his abuse or that he was involved in the trafficking in any way) told him my stepdad had been molesting me, and that was why I never showed an ounce of regret after my stepdad killed himself. I was happy he was dead. And my dad very quietly stood there, and asked if it was all bad?

And in that moment I was so confused as to why he wasn't... anything. Surprised, mad, defensive, understanding, there wasn't anything like that. He just got very quiet, and asked if it had all been bad, and when I just as quietly went yeah, dad, it was all bad, he...

In the first version: he turns around and walks back into the house without a word, leaving me in the field behind his house.

In the new version, he doesn't do that at all. But I think some part of me was left in that field, and I don't want to leave him there anymore. I want him to come home. And if that means blowing up an entire hotel of memories, so fucking be it.

Maybe I should have known better and not told my dad. Maybe I did my best. Maybe I should have realized that he would take that as a reason to hurt me again and reinforce all the training that had clearly been wearing off.

The best version of events is him going quiet and leaving me alone. I couldn't even paper it over with him being supportive or helpful. What a fucking coward of a person.

And I hope his entire house collapses on top of him some day.

[vaguely-concerned]

X-men Evolution; the great 2021 rewatch liveblog

exactly what it says on the tin, about halfway through the show I had TOO MANY FEELINGS and had to start writing some of them out haha (gets quite gambit & rogue/gambit heavy in the latter half, Because of Who I Am as a Person)

- this is my childhood’s x-men, my formative experience with them, and I’m happy to report that still seems like a good thing. the little eleven year old within me gets to geek out and have a good time with the characters and the surprisingly good animation and writing, adult me gets to CACKLE at regular intervals at the fashion/technology/absolute bonkers hot garbage comic book nonsense they use to justify a storyline every now and then, it’s been a good time 

- I was like ‘ah well it is super dated it probably won’t be quite the same now’ and then rogue’s HAIR did the THING in the opening and ‘it’s all coming back to me now’ started playing in the background... the little baby queer in me swooning across time and space

- such a good beast, both his design and the writing, my heart aches for him all the time. he’s just so passionate! about being a teacher! helping young humans learn the stuff they’ll need in life! the most wonderful nerd man, just let good things happen for him

- I’m going to go ahead and assume that rogue’s ‘crush’ on scott is more of a deeply complex psychological process about desiring normalcy and intimacy and trying to figure out if she’s queer and dealing with her emerging sexuality and latching on to the first and best safely unavailable and nonthreatening older boy to project these issues onto rather than actually being a real thing, because I respect her so much as a person and I cannot bring myself to imagine she’s honestly attracted to a man who has POSTERS OF CARS on his bedroom wall. (I’ll give jean a break just because she seems to have a longer deeper history with him that might counteract some of that libido-kill, and also she’s a jock so lol)

like I am very sorry but can u imagine being a teenage girl with any interest in a boy with model cars in his bedroom when gambit’s swanning around being a much, much, much worse choice on almost every possible level but in a teen girl kryptonite kind of way? inconceivable  

(I drag scott quite a few times in this and it’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just his tragedy to be the most draggable man in the world)

to be fair by the time gambit shows up that whole Situation has mostly played itself out I suppose but still  

- toad’s design is so ineffably brilliant, I can’t quite tell you why but that ugly cute charm has really stuck with me, he’s one of the characters I remembered the best to this day just visually

- poor evan... he truly never had a chance, did he, they just saddled him with the most 90s teen bullshit they could come up with like he’s some kind of ‘what adult writers think teens like’ frankenstein’s monster ;______; it’s not your fault honey

- poor poor POOR storm, she gets one focus episode and they were like ‘we’re going to make an episode so racist -- ‘

I’m still STUNNED at how bad it was, but undeniably I laughed hysterically to the point that my neighbours were probably worried when that dude was earnestly like ‘He [stunningly breathlessly racist caricature of a ‘witch doctor’ guy] has stolen her powers, and he’s going to use them to take over Africa!!!’ fhajsdlfhsakjldfh oh really? tell me more, like how the fUCK this could be on television within my life time fasdlfhsdkjfhsad f  just... fahjksdfh

- it’s a testament to gambit’s appeal as a character that his charm can survive what they’ve done with his hair and beard choices in this one fajskfhs regrettable but true I still fuckn LOVE him and in my highly biased yet Correct opinion he should have been around much more. get you a man who manages to stay hot through sheer Vibes even with a bowl cut

- aw scott/jean is kind of sweet in this show even if it’s taking them forEVER to get there, I like it 

- it’s very nice of rogue to not mention magneto’s romantic daydreams and nostalgic memories about charles xavier after touching his face that one time... or maybe her brain did her a service and repressed it, there’s some stuff you shouldn’t have to know about your father figure   

- the danger room is the very definition of ‘why do we even have that lever’ and I wonder what the fuck prof x does to have enough money to replace everything that gets busted all the time

- I’d say that a lot of the writing holds up surprisingly well! (but some of it is also incredibly inexcusably racist in ways that beggar belief, so... not full marks here) the characters have distinct voices and their arcs are set up and delivered on solidly for the most part, and there’s a lot of love showing through in small moments that are just there to have a funny/interesting thing to say about the characters and how their powers work separately and in combination. listen, sometimes I get so thirsty for like. basic goddamn competency in storytelling, let me have this

- ugggggh why is there captain america in my x-men have I not suffered enough... very very funny when prof x goes ‘sounds like you knew rogers personally’ and logan is like ‘I did ;)’ *all the students ganging up on steve rogers* “did you fuck our teacher, captain america?!”

- fskadfhas WHY are you showing me hot young-ified magneto’s ass fksjahfskj charles is not even here to see it, what a tragic waste erik 

- ...I was sort of kidding before but uh I think logan genuinely did fuck captain america (or at least wishes very much that he did lol)

- wanda can have a little watching the world burn. as a treat for the way every single adult in her life has fucking failed her (’aren’t they treating you well here’ professor x she’s in a straightjacket)  

- poor rogue tho can you imagine finding out after your biggest crush on a girl yet that she’s your fucking MOM in disguise... I would break out in cold sweat every time I thought about a boob forever after

- well seems like they really just had all that homoerotic rivalry stuff between quicksilver and spyke in their first ep only to never do anything with that again ever?? I mean even without the gay undertone that seems like a dynamic you spent most of an episode setting up writers what the hell haha

- dslhfkasjlh GAMBIT THERE HE IS MY BOY IS ON THE SCENE THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!! I don’t even care about his awful hair situation or the fact that his eyes are wrong here (coloured contact lenses, maybe, for a watsonian explanation? though he’d probably have to get them made special, considering he needs the sclera and the iris covered up in different ways, I’ve seen some comic panels indicating he has been known to?)

(cute little detail: when he shuffles the cards the first time we see him he ends with removing the top card to show the ace of hearts beneath <3 foreshadowing baBEY he’s a... good-ish boy deep down. hey he tries okay shit gets complicated sometimes lol) 

- cracking UP at gambit perched cheerily on the edge of a crate dispensing cards in the middle of the battle... he’s like ‘eh it’s a livin’ sfsajkhf remy stop working for supervillains just because you had nothing to do on a thursday afternoon and they said they’d pay you

- I’m guessing magneto must have imposed a strict order of silence on these guys or something because I cannot imagine any other reason for him to shut up, especially once he notices rogue is a QTE (or, far more likely, they hadn’t settled on any voice actors for the new characters until next season haha. it is kind of odd that they’re all keeping up near monastic silence, though, even sabertooth lol) 

- WHAT an epic first meeting for us rogue/gambit fans here... first his shadow like there’s fireworks going off behind him lighting him up and then he gives her the fuckn king of hearts and she’s so enchanted by his dumb handsome face she doesn’t even notice it’s about to blow up in her hands and it all happens in heavily meaningful silence afjsdfjashjk no wonder this ship ingrained itself in my hindbrain  

yeah look smug while you can remy she’s gonna have you on your knees one day and you’ll be happy about it lol

- god storm is so COOL, everything just fading out of focus when she really gets going... give her more screen time, show!!

- mystique is every person... this person... that person... that bird... that cat... that wolf... I’m not even sure she’s not also me... are you sure she’s not you? 

- holy fuck I respect the hell out of the decision to just... blow up the entire status quo in a season ender, I only vaguely remembered that (actually in general I appreciate how good the continuity is -- buildings and places that get damaged in battles need to be repaired or rebuilt, it makes the consequences feel more real even when no one gets seriously hurt. where they get the money to restore scott’s car and logan’s motorbikes every time they go cablooie is still an open question tho lol is it credit card fraud, professor? is it telepathically acquired blackmail???) 

- I first watched this when I was nine or so, so it’s a real experience to go from my starry eyed intrigued ‘oh my god... they’re teenagers’ to my horrified adult perspective of ‘oh my god... they’re TEENAGERS D:’

that goes double for the brotherhood boys honestly, I’m here with tears in my eyes like ‘I’m sorry the system has failed you so badly you’re all just a bunch of dumb kids whose caretakers clearly fucked up spectacularly’  

like lance is always waiting for mystique to come back because she’s the closest thing he has to a safe parental figure, may we speak about how crushingly depressing that is 

- rogue is so ready to throw hands at literally any moment and for that I love and treasure her immensely (I think getting to see her be so surly and unreasonable and sometimes difficult and jealous, like any teenager, meant a lot to me as a kid who was not really allowed to be any of these things, this version of the character has stayed with me so deeply. she holds on so fiercely to her right to feel what she feels and be what she is even when it’s ‘ugly’ or unreasonable, which I think plays in really interestingly with how her powers involve getting invaded by other people’s thoughts and memories to the point of overwhelming her own sense of self and the fact that she clearly has a lot of self-loathing and self-consciousness and confusion about her identity as well. I love her so much)  

- oooof this is the ‘the gang experience a microaggression’ episode huh (well more like macroagressions really)

hits a bit different with adult eyes and perspective huh

- hearing jean sound almost like a child when she says ‘that’s so unfair!’ somehow has me like ;______; -- she has to be so adult and responsible all the time, and having her be reduced to the kid she still is and should get to be in front of this awful awful man she could squash like a bug with the flick of a thought... ugh I’m Big Sad (it is funny that jean seemingly plays Every Sport tho djfhaskj)

- MY BOY IS BACK!!! this time with the duster coat and his eyes the right colour, im so happy (too bad about the subdued colour scheme tho; I adore his dumb bright pink getup with my whole heart)

it’s kind of adorable that he takes the time to take the bullies aside and go ‘I know these guys can’t wreck you without getting expelled, but I think you’ll find no law set down by god or man would stop me from doing so whenever I wanted to. so piss off and leave them alone’ lol he’s looking out for them, in his own way

- in this episode: remy lebeau wrangles some kids while looking bored yet mildly amused the whole time. what the fuck does magneto have on you for you to agree to this level of babysitting duty buddy

- fun detail I noticed b/c when I get a fave I hyperfixate: he gave rogue the king of hearts before, but he ‘introduces’ himself to the brotherhood here (lol) with the jack of hearts, probably to symbolize he’s here as someone who works for magneto in this setting and not as his own man? it’s a demotion he’s given himself there, anyway, might be he’s not very pleased about his current position huh 

- I like it when rogue and kitty team up, they’re not very effective together but their squabbling is so cute and non-aggressive 

- pietro is what draco malfoy would be if I ever found malfoy interesting to watch for even one moment, every time quicksilver talks I’m like ‘what wonderfully insufferable thing is going to come out of your mouth this time you little shit :’)’

- a) why are scott and logan shirtless for this scene? I am not complaining on the logan side of things at least but why and b) I laughed so hard I almost fell off my couch when scott asked logan if he’d ever been in love and he was like ‘once. she was the most beautiful bike I ever saw’ falsdfhaskjfhsakjlfhasklhjfd THE BEST VERSION OF WOLVERINE EVER, ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTES 

- mystique’s sheer dedication to being a petty bitch is kind of inspirational tbh, almost makes me want to go on a completely bonkers and extra crusade of personal revenge myself  

- oooh they’re doing some genuinely cool things with vision/lack of vision in this one (it’s the scott left on his own in the desert without glasses one btw) even visually, dang! I’m so sad this show didn’t get more seasons than it did, honestly, it deserved it

- hell yeah jean wreck her, go get your man with the suspiciously specific clothing damage normally done to female characters 

awww :’) okay yeah they’re super sweet, I love the tiny loving animation details like how he leans his head against her and her stroking his hair away from his eyes

- nooo don’t bully evan leave my t0tally r4dical sk8er boy alone :(

- I love the running joke of people fleeing in blind panic only to reveal that what they’re running from is kitty’s cheerful well meaning little face fskfaskh 

- scott and jean are already peak married after officially being together for one episode and it’s adorable, and they just stone cold threw logan under the bus, rip wolverine we hardly knew ya

fjasdlfasldfhslajdkfhsadkjlfhsdkjalfhsdakfh h jean establishing herself as the alphabitch of this relationship by throwing her man to the wolves right after dsjfhaskjfhaskjhfsakjdhfaskjhfaskdhfskjahfskdajhf get smarter or get volunteered scott 

- ...eyepatch lady is so hot ngl

oh evan went to the place hank used to go to calm down ;________; (honestly he’s kind of won a place in my heart just by being a pretty normal teenage boy haha)

- jesus fucking CHRIST can you imagine being storm having to look her sister in the eye as she tells her ‘I lost your only child, he’s *vague gesture* somewhere in the sewers we think’ this poor woman

- amanda the self admitted monster fucker you are so VALID (I love her and her family’s design so much tho!)

- it’s so cool that even in his human ‘disguise’ kurt’s fingers follow the shape of his actual hand beneath it rather than moving like a five fingered hand, it’s such a lovingly consistent little detail 

- magneto and mystique in a breathless race to see who can be the shittiest parent... tune in next week for yet another parental nadir (also some low-poly gambit appearances in this one, for those at home keeping score (me), he’s in the background looking like someone drew him with their eyes closed fakjldfhasd look how they massacred my boy)

- someone please teach the brotherhood boys about consent huh

- jean ‘soccer mom before her time’ grey and her SUV dfhakjlhds :’)

- im sobbing rogue baby girl i’m so sorryyyyyy, this voice actress is so good, my parental instincts suddenly kicked into overdrive hearing the crack in her voice :( (bb me was right tho rogue centric episodes ARE the best episodes. that tension between ‘do I identify witn this character or am I crushing on her?? both???’ now has the fun new addition of ‘oh god oh no you are a baby I want to shield you with my body from everything trying to hurt you’)

- mystique is like ‘so you see despite you telling me you never wanted to see me again I completely disrespected that and posed as a friend your age, manipulated you by offering you the mirage of direly needed emotional intimacy and belonging and added some sprinkles of homoerotic tension to it just to massively worsen your already existing grievous psychosexual trauma and identity issues... out of love’

god go jump in a black hole you fucking monster 

- there’s some very interesting and quite subtle subtext about the people she’s morphing into and what that says about her mental state/how it shows off some of her emotional baggage with the rest of the team. it’s like she’s switching between people/powers that fit the purpose as if she’s going through cycles of fight/flight (and then bursts of freeze where she’s herself, which is... so sad)

- this whole episode is hurting my heart but rogue at full power is undeniably epic  

 - ‘professor x get your goddamn act together and get this poor girl some fucking tHERAPY’ challenge

- SAFE PAPA LOGAN ;_____;

- EYYYYYY opening straight on My Lad, I cannot stop winning!!!!! 

fasdfhsad disintegrating the window with a smiley face... remy I do love you more than my heart can bear honestly, hello may we speak about the fact that his urge to be a little shit is so deep and strong it survives mind control (that little breathed out ‘hiah!’ as he vaults the fence too dsakfjsd)

hahaha and he does up the coat fhsalfdsaj 

- magneto dismissing other telepaths like ‘puh-lease, your Meaningful Looks have got nothing on my ex-husband’s’ 

- :’) rogue and kurt sibling timeees

- say what you want but this pyro guy’s got job satisfaction in being a creepy arsonist with a weird recurring horse theme (well at least twice but still weird)

- I love how beast is the kindest man to ever walk the earth but also straight up savage, this man drags people so hard their ancestors wince in their graves

- gambit taking the time to complete the guard’s game of solitaire -- this episode is giving me everything I want. u little disgrace mr lebeau

and THEN he takes the spider out in the most hilariously bonkers way my heart is so FULL

(I love that when magneto moves by he looks startled and has to quickly move his head out of the way to avoid getting kicked in the temple too that’s a fun detail)

I’m so INTO how this sequence shows off that his greatest strength isn’t even his powers (which are pretty straightforward, really, he makes go boom, longer time and bigger thing bigger boom) but that he’s clever and creative and always extremely ready to be the most harebrained-bananapants-extra-in-a-deceptively-laidback-sort-of-way person in the room (I actually have some genuinely Deep Thoughts about how his whole character does a really interesting thing with having the straightforwardly destructive nature of his powers yield to what his nature as a person is, and how using the playing cards play (heh) into it, maybe I’ll write it out some day. just the fact that he could use anything, but he deliberately chose something that adds style and playfulness and corny charm to it and that also limits the damage of the explosions compared to if he habitually used something with more mass... I find it fascinating how much he’s made a story around himself with it and how deeply it shows he does have a good heart, at the end of the day, in almost a metatextual way. he doesn’t want to destroy things or people, he’s at worst (and best lol) a thief.)

- I honestly have literally no memory of white nick fury (which seems so weird now isn’t it funny) in this series from when I was a kid, he clearly did not make an impression on me lol

- mr wolverine ‘assigned canadian at birth’ x-men 

- oh man I dig the androgynity of x-23′s outfit (even tho they had to compensate with the long hair, which... kind of doesn’t make sense in-universe but does on a design level because it’s a crucial thing that she’s a female clone of logan so yeah okay fine whatever have your arbitrary gender markers if you must haha)

ooooooh that’s actually really clever, they make her gender gradually more obvious as she unravels through the episode and her outfit changes -- first the mask coming off, and then her jacket opening to show her silhouette more clearly, that’s cool!  

- my god what really sets this show apart is how much it invests in little character and relationship moments, it’s just so fucking GOOD! it gives laura looking in on those moments such depth and weight because it’s new to her but established to us as an audience, this is how you make found family devastating people (storm growing bonsai trees is so charming too haha) 

- ooof this is honestly quite harrowing 

SHE’S SO SMALL COMPARED TO HIM I’M CRYING (at least that part of his genes translated over faslkfsjdh short king, I say this with all the love and support of a fellow short monarch)  

- tabitha seems to just be running around doing precisely whatever the fuck she wants and you know what I support her even if she is an asshole her father left her a bunch of trauma and no fucks left to give 

- still thrilled about professor x explaining the spider key fuckup to magneto after the fact like ‘magnus you dumb bitch this is why we split up’ 

- awww kitty has anime and movie posters on her wall and sleeps with a stuffed toy :’)

-          remy                           rogue

                              🤝

doing completely unnecessary parkour around the brotherhood living room seemingly just for the hell of it... I’m not saying soulmates but fucking soulmates 

- fhsadkjlfhsakjldfhsadjkfhsdajkfh just as gambit’s soul-level need to be a little shit survived his bout of mind control, rogue’s deep and urgent desire to kiss gambit full on the mouth survived hers I can’t breathe

she looks so pleased with herself too GOOD FOR YOU GIRL at least get something out of this other than more trauma 

also not only the fact that he’s smart enough to figure out what’s going on (though he’s only partially right about who’s behind it. I do so enjoy gambit/mystique deep and sincere antipathy as a constant across all universes tho lmao pure wlw/mlm hostility) but also that he keeps fending her off like he’s not trying to hurt her even though she’s in nigh on unstoppable and invulnerable terminator mode... awww 

- gambit having absolutely no patience for wolverine and sabertooth’s bullshit macho-off and consistently being this little biker trio’s one brain cell is adding years to my life with every passing moment

his voice is a little different in these scenes too, a bit softer and less like he’s trying to impress someone, it’s nice

- hank: well I barely recognize any of these (completely made up) ‘ancient egyptian hieroglyphs’ but from what I can make out -- *proceeds to infodump a perfect coherent narrative* fjdhfak  

listen this whole thing is such nonsense on so many levels, I’m just turning my brain off so I won’t have to think about it okay, the compulsion to put ancient aliens in egypt haunts us as a culture 

- I am CACKLING about gambit in the snow after having to listen to these two chucklefucks ooze testosterone at each other for hours

he started out taking it in good cheer and is now reduced to ‘dieu would both of you just jump off this fUCKING mountain please’

- ah. a little oops-a-daisy there, we seem to have unleashed the apocalypse. please stand by (they really don’t pull their punches with the season cliffhangers in this show haha)

- opening the season on gambit’s merrily grinning face is the easiest way to gain my favour. yes good this season may commence 

baby u r my

 ANGELLLLLLLL

(he’s so cute here tho haha I think it shows the design isn’t unsalvagable, just get him better hair and stubble more like logan has and you’ve basically got it) 

love his exasperated eyeroll when the dude gets spooked (by his eyes? or just the general weirdness?) too

he’s just trying to keep this crazy family of evil mutants together and unmurdered by one another until they’ve managed to avert the end of the world, bless him  

- oh NO rogue’s LIP wobbles my hhhhhheart ;____; such a good animation detail to put in

- like... I know kurt is just a sad scared teenager with a lot of shit going on and all the adults are too busy averting the end of the world to help him... but buddy maybe don’t ask your sister to wake her abuser (who forced her to kickstart the end of the world!!!!!) when she feels utterly unsafe even with her statue version around huh

- ...wanda is good and I want only good things for her. and for her dad to be disemboweled for what he did to her both the first time around and when he forced her to forget I mean what 

- magneto throwing an epic satelite-slinging tantrum b/c ‘no I am the biggest sexiest strongest mutant of the pack :(’... erik fucking get over yourself 

- yes boys absolutely go along with a plan suggested by a dude who looks at you like this 

nothing bad can come of this surely asdfkhsa

- lance’s quarter of a braincell always trying to go ‘hey wait, maybe... not do this???’ and it never helps lol

- in this episode: Logan Has A Bad Day 

...some very specific bondage positions he’s held in here, I am sure this episode awakened something in someone once upon a time lol 

- logan shielding x-23 with his body... im fine it’s okay I’m not crying don’t look at me

- afsdhlsdfjasdlk those sure are some ‘scottish’ accents flsadkjhkdsjahfsd

- scott relieved to finally be able to cede the position of ‘charles xavier’s least favourite son’ to someone else fjsaklfhsajd (poor scott it’s not your fault honey)

supremely cowardly to suggest there is an ex-wife involved rather than charles slutting his way around the british isles back in the day but okay

- kurt with a cold is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. it’s okay kid it’ll get better soon

- ...is there an implication here that professor x is naturally blond. because I am losing my entire little mind about it (i mean he at least has to carry the gene, as does this lady?)

ETA: upon doing some research into this I can indeed confirm that charles xavier does seem to be naturally blond, and after this knowledge I will never be the same 

- “listen, dracula” fskdafghasd oh scott you sweet baby angel I love you

- I know jean’s abilities are a bit ‘as strong or as weak as the plot needs right now’ at this point (so you can have the setup for what’s going to happen with them eventually and she’s basically invincible ;____;), and normally I’m cool with it but god I want her to just squash lucas like a little bug

- ewwwww please don’t ever say ‘daddy’ like that again

- ...what the fuck is even going on this episode’s a mess 

like okay the split personality thing could be something but the way it’s done... what just happened lol

- MY BOY EVAN IS BACK! with a real glowup too (...though kind of weird how he suddenly looks like a grown man)

- augh scott’s eyes are so pretty oh my god ;__________________________;

- that episode in the first season where evan makes the ‘this is my new family!!’ video is so sad now (also, again, his poor poor parents) 

- time for: life affirming road trip with gambit (involuntary) faskljdfhaskjd

stunt therapist remy lebeau 

- I mean the way he goes about it is batshit insane and it’s very much secondary to what he’s actually up to but this is the first time rogue’s sounded genuinely hopeful and confident and like herself in like a season <3 

- he is disconcertingly pleased about her nearly throwing him off the train, and may I just say I agree it’s so nice to see rogue with her old fire back 

- the first time I watched this it was of course dubbed into norwegian, so I had no idea either of these characters were southern lol (though to be fair I probably wouldn’t have had much context for what it meant exactly either, I was like ten at the time and not too interested in america) I seem to dimly remember the norwegian voice actor did a little more of a ‘french’-tinged accent for gambit all over tho haha  

- you know what respect where it’s due, pyro dude knows to live his life for the lols and one has to admire his sociopathic dedication to it

interesting that he, too, seems to have fucking hated magneto -- I wonder if the implication here is that he kept all the acolytes in line with blackmail or by keeping something/one hostage? (except sabertooth maybe he’d just have to say ‘you get to fuck shit up and fight wolverine’ and that’d be enough)

- fsdakfhsd he’s so focused on her he doesn’t notice that guy about to hit him fkafhsa 

- fuck everything else except whatever the hell these two’ve got going on

- it’s weirdly cathartic to have rogue have a conversation with someone who was not happily adopted as well, I don’t think kurt like. gets it because his parents loved him unconditionally and still do 

birds of a feather motherfucker  

- fun detail: when the x-men team are on the shore and logan is sniffing around scott is stepping in something and trying to wipe it off his boots in the background

- when he wakes up after passing out from the touch he’s smiling even though she’s standing over him looking like the rage of god outlined by the moon fsajfsa well the last time he passed out like that it was from a kiss, maybe he still has some hopes and dreams in that direction lol (also he recovers from the tumble down the hill first and is checking on her before accidentally brushing her cheek with his hand, which I thought was sweet) 

and it was in that moment he knew he fucked up *passes out*

- ‘I can explain’ can u remy. can u  

- did it ever even occur to you to just. ask her. to help you. I mean I know it didn’t but like rogue’s always one second away from throwing hands with some bully and is stupidly ride or die, if you’d given her the puppydog eyes she would have crumbled immediately (fair enough I guess this entire episode is telling us he’s not from a background where he has much experience with people just helping him without a price haha) 

- his eyes glowing when he’s angry or upset or using a lot of his power is undeniably cool as all hell. I’m just saying it would be Big Sexy if they sort of flickered with light in moments of genuine vulnerability okay  

- his coat... his coat is what makes the Silhouette tm and I could not be happier about it 

- another parent of the year contestant enters the running lol “hey remy have you ever considered that you’re more of a walking bomb factory than a person? that’s certainly how I think of you hahaha c’mon kid let’s go” 

- the running joke of jean luc getting dollar signs in his eyes seeing the other mutant powers and gambit being like ‘nO!!!!’ and pulling him along is amazing haha

- from the way he looks when he touches rogue accidentally and the way he talks to his dad I’m sort of getting the feeling this gambit might actually be a bit younger than he looks?

here too -- idk why but it’s making the ‘wait is he baby???’ alarms go off in my head haha. very early twenties at most. 

- and we’ve officially seen him with all the face cards in the heart suit folks! (yes this is the sort of thing my brain notices no I don’t know either)

- poor logan running his ass off this whole episode in a panic and then she’s like ‘nah he’s fine (in several meanings of the word ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) please put him down’ hfaskfsda

- rogue without makeup!!! her eyes look so naked like this haha <3

- oooh here’s a really interesting thing that tickles my brain a bit in this specific part of the scene where gambit frees his dad -- the part where he’s leaning against the door frame waiting for jean luc, who’s about to suggest using the opportunity to ruin the rival gang from the inside rather than slipping away while they still can

from his expression here he knows what’s about to happen, what jean luc is about to say, and it’s clearly a ‘man who thought he’d lost all hope loses last additional bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of situation. he KNOWS what jean luc is like, and it still hurts that he really, honestly can’t give him even this, can’t appreciate that remy’s already done all this shit for him when he extremely didn’t have to, without immediately (no really, it took him less than ten seconds to go there? jesus) demanding more.  

remy tells him “I’m just here for you” and jean luc does not understand it. remy seems to be sincere in this motivation -- rogue certainly thinks so, having experienced it second hand and found enough at least emotional merit in it to decide he was worth saving even after all his bullshit (lol a bit of a running theme maybe. I think it’s very telling that after she absorbed mystique she was like ‘what the FUCK you’re a fucking monster’, and after she absorbed gambit she went ‘you did the wrong thing for the right reasons’ after she got over the first wave of outrage) 

there’s also what he says as he stands there: “You don’t need me for that”, with the distinct implication that jean luc would only keep him around because he has a use for him and for no other reason -- and then jean luc shamelessly doubles down on that by specifying that it’s not even him he’s got a use for as such, just his powers. that’s some kicking puppies level of deliberately missing the point, it’s almost impressive in how cheerfully mean it is haha

this idea of using people is really important in this episode because remy’s doing basically exactly the same thing to rogue to begin with; it doesn’t really matter to his plan that it’s her that’s with him through this, just what her powers are. (I think it’s  p r e t t y  solidly implied that he does actually like her a lot outside of that too and maybe there is some comfort in having her around for this, but mostly he’s behind a smokescreen of lies through the whole thing sooo I doubt he’s even aware of it, honestly)     

but then it does matter that it’s her when she comes back for him, even after what he did. and unlike jean luc he understands what that means, that she did that for him, and that she didn’t have to. and instead of asking her for more, in return he gives her the thing it’s been established is what he considers the most valuable thing he has; his ‘last card’, the thing he’s credited with keeping him alive many a time, basically. it’s gone from using to mutuality, a tentative place of friendship, and at the end of the day he is a different man than his adoptive father, with a capacity for selflessness and love he lacks. which is of course some of the same stuff going on with rogue and mystique too, except rogue acted from a more fragile and unstable place and did something she regrets, or at least has a LOT of doubts about now, and she found some catharsis in helping someone make a different choice in a similar situation. man there’s some Stuff going on under the surface here haha

(by the way it’s a weirdly... meaningless yet intensely meaningful thing, the gifting of a symbol? of an idea? but he’s putting something very crucial of himself into her hands, is the subtext, and he expects her to understand, which she also does seem to do. at the beginning of the episode he’s proving that he’s seen something true about her -- “You’re such an unhappy girl”, knowing where she comes from, the way she’s mourning her lost confidence and autonomy with her abilities -- and here she’s proving she’s seen something true about him. :’) I wish this show had gone on long enough for this dynamic to progress, it’s really interesting and touching)   

- gambit dragging himself up onto dry land seeing someone approaching (to help?!): :D

gambit seeing that it’s logan and the look on his face: D: 

- rogue using her powers so confidently and fearlessly in this episode tho!!!! 

- *me crying* and then her FAMBILY comes to take her home and he says he’s looking out for her too and kurt still loves her even though they’re having a conflict thing between them and she’s finally able to use her powers without so much fear again and --

- ...did I just watch some baby lesbian love at first sight shit right now???  

- okay last two episodes let’s go

- HELL YEAH STORM (I love that she’s like ‘don’t give me a dumb order like that and I won’t have to disobey it’ too sdfjsaj) her voice has such command I’m usually very much not the ‘step on me’ type butttt

- y’know I feel like apocalypse’s main fault across all versions I’ve seen of him is that he’s like an immortal superpowered god king and he’s not even sexy. like at least make him hot if he’s going to be insufferable in every other way 

- also callout post for apocalypse: one time he made gambit into the Horseman of Death... and didn’t even make him sexy!!! you were handed remy lebeau, supreme bi disaster slut of the x men universe, and you couldn’t even make his brainwashed superpowered evil side hot?? a beautiful stubbled twunk with glowing red eyes and extremely charming :> face practically delivers himself into your hands and you do that to him???? I mean I’m sure apocalypse did some other bad stuff too but that was the worst one

(comics are so dumb y’all) 

- having to watch jean cry is emotional terrorism!! ;___; she has such older sister/mom energy, whenever she gets sad and helpless it hurts 

- oh, OH so PROFESSOR X you’ll make into a hunk and ~*strategically*~ rip his clothes to show off a nipple and a flawless pec in a way that makes me extremely uncomfortable because he’s like The Dad??? apocalypse you are rotten to the core this is unforgivable 

- so wait wanda never actually gets her real memories back. what the FuCk I hope that was a dropped storyline because they ended the show tragically prematurely rather than like. the plan

- why is spyke calling storm ‘storm’ show that’s his auntie o!! >:(

- as a society we need to acknowledge that apocalypse looks like a fucking clown

- ooooh yeah I have been thinking that this show’s greatest visual weakness so far has been not having a visual way to show telepathy/battles of the minds, but this is a pretty cool way to do it! better late than never

- I’m so happy rogue gets to end this herself, since she was forced into starting it against her will, it’s just nice and neat storytelling

- YEAH FUCKING TELL HER KURT AND ROGUE I AM SO PROUD OF YOU and she has the temerity to look pissed off oh my god

the only valid thing mystique has done in her entire life is be in love with destiny. literally everything else she gets up to is a travesty. like I know objectively she’s hot but my loathing for her stops me from even appreciating it. I do enjoy loathing her tho so please don’t change her haha

(a bit odd to have kurt’s attitude to her swing so much but I’m just going to assume he and rogue had a good long conversation after ‘cajun spice’ and that he understands what’s going on better now)

- this last part is such a cruel tease faskdfhsdaj ‘here are all the cool-ass things we had planned. sucks you never get to see it huh’ im devastated 

- magneto without his helmet and playing charmingly with children like charles is going ‘well at least I saved my marriage finally’ fsadkhfjsd (honestly tho I would be super interested in seeing how they’d redeem this magneto because he’s been a real bitch the whole time lol) 

there’s an interesting thing here where magneto looks down at wanda as the last thing he does on screen before this epilogue part (yeah I hope it fucking haunts you forever what you did to her erik you absolute piece of hot garbage) and the last thing charles does is look at jean b/c he knows what’s going to happen to her and it breaks his heart... Dramatic Parallells  

- just the hint of jean as the phoenix has me in full D:D:D: mode tho maybe I wouldn’t have survived it

- gambit in the last groupshot with his arm around rogue ;^) I mean I’m sure they’re headed for some turns and roundabouts along the way but what’s that thing she says as her wedding vow, that she’ll always find her way back? anyway that got me in my heart

- man I really wish this show had been given more seasons, we were barely even getting warmed up here :’(

[mae-gi-writes]

Betrothed | Sangyeon

Requested! Royal au! Sangyeon and Y/N have been betrothed ever since they were kids. Too bad that you hate each other’s guts...Or do you? 

Genre: fluff, enemies to lovers au, royal au.  Tagging: my lovely precious @aniyawoos​ because she deserves all the love in the world. 

----

"Where is it?” 

You wish that your murderous glare can drill holes through Sangyeon’s back as you stand, fists clenched at your side, as you watch the prince smoothing over his horse’s mane as if he has no worries in the world.

You try breathing out through your nostrils. Inhale. Exhale. Relax. 

“Where is it, Sangyeon?” 

“I didn’t touch your diary.” 

“You’re the only one who knows I always keep in on my desk. And the only person who has access to our quarters is you,” you cross your arms over your chest, “where is it?” 

At that, he whips his head around to throw you a scowl, “I told you, I didn’t touch it. I don’t even know what it looks like.” 

“That’s a load of bullcrap. You’ve seen it before.” 

"If you haven’t noticed, I don’t really give a rat’s ass about your stuff, nor do I have any interest in reading your personal matters. So no, it’s not me,” he returns back to his horse and you’re tempted to throw a bucket at him when he’s not looking.

What an ass, you think to yourself as you storm away, anger bubbling up inside your stomach. 

Ever since you could remember, your parents had been constantly throwing you into Sangyeon’s arms as a reminder that you were to be his wife someday when you guys were of age to rule over the Kingdom of Gustale. It was your duty as a princess from the neighbouring Kingdom and you wouldn’t have minded it as much, if not for Sangyeon’s constant bitch-ass attitude towards you these past few years.

Growing up had been fun, to say the least. Before everything had turned like sour grapes, you and Sangyeon would spend endless days together, sharing stories from your own and going out on small adventures in the city. That was before responsibility had fallen onto both your shoulders, before summer was replaced by additional royalty lessons about managing the people and the economy of the Kingdom itself. 

You weren’t exactly sure when things started going downhill in your relationship. But it had been sudden; the way Sangyeon had withdrawn from you as distant as the wind, the way his features -- which you were used to seeing so soft and open -- had hardened considerably whenever he was meant to interact with you. You had never had the nerve to ask him about it, but it was clearly not your fault. 

How could it be? It was almost like you had snapped your fingers, and the Sangyeon you knew was gone.

And time is fast in slipping through your fingers, for it’s only a few days until your actual betrothal. 

Another sigh escapes your lips as you think of the bleak future ahead. Before, marrying Sangyeon wouldn’t have bothered you that much. Now though, it seemed like you were readying yourself to walk through the gates of hell.

The preparations for the Royal Engagement ceremony take up most of your time, which successfully steer your thoughts away from the big elephant in the room you have yet to address. You busy yourself organizing the tables, going through the list of decorations, and spending as much free time walking along the docks to greet the merchants going back and forth to the sea like it’s their second home. 

It’s only when night falls that it becomes a challenge. As a way to encourage your intimacy, the Royal family had decided it suitable for you to spend your nights in Sangyeon’s royal quarters. That wouldn’t normally bother you as much. But with Sangyeon’s coldness, you find yourself most of the time slipping away in the middle of the night to curl up in one of the library’s couches.

So it comes as a surprise when you hear Sangyeon’s alto float through the air. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, hairbrush in hand, you pause in mid-action. Have you just heard wrong or--?

“Y/N.” 

You blink. Hesitate a few seconds. “What?” 

Another pause.

“Have you--” his voice is gruff, coming from the room itself. You wish you can see him, “have you found it?” 

“My diary?” 

“Yeah.” 

You resume brushing your hair, “no.”

Another awkward silence takes hold of the room and you’re not sure whether you should be filling it with short talk. 

Your heart jolts in your throat when you hear him once more, “I didn’t steal it, Y/N. If that’s what you think.” 

Biting your lip, you nod, before realizing he can’t see you, “I know.” 

“Good.” 

That’s possibly the nicest he’s ever been since...well, ever since. 

You try not to ponder too much over the meaning behind Sangyeon’s gentle demeanour, knowing full well that it only leads to disappointment in the long run. Quickly untangling the knots from your hair before moving towards your bedroom, you’re surprised to find that he’s still sitting up, blinking up at you as though waiting that you’ll join him for the night. 

“What?” You can’t help but ask the moment your eyes meet for a second too long.

His eyes slide away in growing embarrassment, “I--Uhm, are you--are you going to bed for the night?” 

“Yes?” Confusion falls over your face. 

He turns his head away so that you’re graced with his profile, and you can’t help but admire the strong jawline he sports, his plump lips that every girl would die for, “I was just asking, because I know you tend to sleep in the library.”

“Oh,” realization dawns on you, and while the first thing that scratches the back of your tongue is an apology, your mind reels back when you realize that you don’t really owe him anything.

“Well, uhm--” you rack your brains for an answer, “I thought you weren’t comfortable with me sleeping in the same bed as yours.” 

His mutter is so soft you would’ve missed if it you hadn’t been paying attention, “I really don’t mind.” 

That’s how you find yourself, curled up on your side and away from the said prince of Gustale, hands tucked under your head and trying to take up as little space as you possibly can. You can feel the heat of his body radiating from his side of your bed, practically bathing your entire backside, and though Sangyeon’s bed is big enough to accomodate the two of you, it’s quite modest in comparison to what the King and Queen have in their sleeping quarters. One wrong move in his direction will ultimately cause your limbs to brush, no question.

The first night is definitely awkward. You try not to bring it up, and Sangyeon does an amazing job at hiding what’s really going on in his mind. But as more time passes, you start picking up on things that he’s starting to do differently. For starters, he now engages in quiet conversation with you at meal times, asking whether you’re finding your way around the palace, or grudgingly passing you plates of food without so much as a protest. He’d asked the maids to keep tabs on what made you uncomfortable so that he could change what didn’t sit well with you, unknown to your knowledge, and you’d only found out later when one of the guards had accidentally let it slip that the prince seemed to be ‘putting it a lot more effort nowadays’. 

Not that it had helped, since you’re still left empty-handed, with all your thoughts and private feelings probably tucked away in someone else’s desk drawer. 

Sangyeon’s sudden bout of generosity and consideration makes your heart warm. You slowly start softening towards the said man, until you hear a pair of court ladies mumbling amongst themselves on the eve of the Royal Engagement. 

“The Prince and the Princess have been getting quite cozy lately.” 

“No wonder,” the other woman scoffs, causing Y/N to back up against the nearby wall, ears focused on their conversation, “after all, he knows what he’s got to do after their marriage. Maybe he wants to get an early start.” 

“You think so? The prince doesn’t strike me as the type to sway women only for his physical needs.” 

“Well, she will definitely be the bearer of his children. So he surely must get into her good books.” 

At this point, you’re already walking towards his quarters with your heart palpitating in your chest and your legs going numb from the women’s earlier discussion. Is it true? You ask yourself as you absentmindedly open his room door. You close it softly behind you, pressing your back against it while the words slowly digest themselves in your head.

If what the court ladies are saying, then it makes sense why Sangyeon is acting all nice all of a sudden without reason. He merely wants to get the job done as quickly as possible, so that he can be done with you and just throw you into a corner like a used item of clothing he’d outgrew. 

That doesn’t seem to sit well in your stomach. You manage to get yourself to the toilet just in time to throw up your entire dinner.

That is where Sangyeon finds you, a few minutes later, heaving and gasping into the toilet bowl while your hands are gripping the edges for dear life. Your face is dotted with perspiration, your face probably flushed from the effort. You know, without looking at your reflection, that you’ve had better days.

“Did you eat something wrong?” he crouches down beside you, a tentative hand fluttering against your backside. It makes you shiver, the warmth of his palm, still not used to his body being so close.

You manage to shake your head, “no,” you mutter, spitting some remaining saliva before you try moving towards the sink. Sangyeon’s arms are around your shoulders in an instant, helping you up to allow you to wash your hands.

You force your gaze down towards your hand, trying to busy yourself with the task at hand so that you won’t have to see the concerned expression he’s plastered over his face just to convince you that his affection is genuine. 

“What happened?” he follows you into the bedroom, though it’s clear at this point that you want to burrow underneath the covers and hide forever. You do just that, kicking off your shoes and ignoring the prince’s questions that would’ve once made your heart flutter with affection.  Now though, you’re not really sure what you should be feeling towards Sangyeon.

Feeling the bed dip as he sits at your bedside, you can’t help but flinch when his hand pushes a stray strands of hair away from your face, “talk to me, Y/N. Was it something at dinner? Do you feel unwell? Have you caught the stomach flu? It seems to be going around a lot these days. Maybe it’s something you caught when you were out by the docks--” 

“I’m fine,” you cut him off and close your eyes, “leave me alone.” 

There’s a pause and you force your muscles to relax despite feeling the heat of his gaze zeroing on your face.

“Y/N?” he starts, his alto unsure and confused, “did something happen? Was it something I said?” 

“No,” you mutter.

“Then what is it?” 

“Nothing. I said leave me alone.” 

“Y/N come on, don’t start playing those games with me,” his hand reaches for your shoulder, only for you to jerk away from his hold. Hurt flashes across Sangyeon’s face, though he is adept at masking it into indifference, hand hanging in mid-air. 

“Jesus, Y/N,” he finally says in the silence that prevails, “we can’t be arguing on the eve of your engagement, for christ’s sake.” 

“Is it true?” you blurt out before your mind can stop your heart from rearing in pain, “is it true that you’re only being nice to me because you want to bed me?” 

Silence. A pause. Then, “who told you this?” 

You shrug but decide not to answer. 

Only to be pulled back to face Sangyeon a second later, his arm latched onto your shoulder so that you meet his darkened gaze, coated with restrained anger. His jaw clenches as he repeats, “who told you, Y/N?” 

“Is it true?” your eyes lock on his, “is it true then? Do you just want to get into my pants?” 

“No, it’s not true. But that’s not going to help my case is it?” he sighs, “listen Y/N. People talk a lot, and there’s bound to always be rumours flying around--” 

“So then why?” you cut him off with a scowl, “why are you acting so nice to me when you haven’t been for the past five years?” 

You try to search for any indication on his face, but Sangyeon being Sangyeon, he knows exactly how to close himself off, hide behind a mask of nonchalance so that it’s almost impossible to guess what might be making the cogs in his head turn. 

“Can I tell you something without you shouting at me?” his murmur is so soft, so unlike his usual cold demeanour, that you nod in agreement, willing to at least hear him out.

“I read your diary.” 

Your jaw drops, “You what?! You liar!” You shoot up, slapping him on the shoulder out of pure instinct, “you said you didn’t know where it was!” 

“It’s under the bed, I technically found it there so-- ouch woman!” he rubs his now injured shoulder, “can I continue? You promised you wouldn’t get aggressive.”

You keep glaring at him as he continues. 

“The things you wrote--I didn’t know that you were hurting so much. I thought that keeping my distance was what you wanted,” he bites the inside of his cheek, “I didn’t want you thinking I was being nice just because we’re meant to be married, especially since I liked you so much. So I tried avoiding you, tried to distance myself so that you’d come to me out of your own free will,” he presses his lips together, eyebrows drawn into a frown, “but then...I read your diary and realized that you--that it was hurting you, more than it was doing you good. You know? And that--that hurt me.”

“So it has nothing to do with the fact that you just want to have sex?” 

His ears flush a joyous red, so vividly oblivious that your inner mind screams out at how cute he is. 

“It has nothing to do with that,” he stammers out. “So you don’t want to have sex with me?” Now you know you’re only pulling his leg, but it’s even more precious to see him ducking his head as the flush reaches the tips of his ears, “I--I never--I never said that! I--well, I mean, you--you’re going to be my wife after all so--obviously, you --you know I kinda...” he scratches the back fo his neck, clearly uncomfortable with all the questions you fire at him, “I kinda already...thought about it.” 

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing in his face and revel at how red he becomes as he splutters out, “it’s--it’s not funny.” 

“Oh god,” you clamp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stop yourself, though it’s quite a pathetic attempt, since even Sangyeon’s mouth tugs up into a mirroring grin. 

“So are we good now?” He murmurs while his hand unconsciously lands upon yours. It’s soft, warm from his heat. It feels good, it feels...safe. 

Your heart skips a beat, “yes Sangyeon. We are. We’re good.” 

“Good,” he clears his throat thickly, bites down onto his lower lip as if in thought while his thumb traces soft patterns over your knuckles. It almost feels normal to have him so close, it’s like your body knows that he’s the one you’ll be sharing the rest of your life with.

And then, a memory of his little speech comes floating back before your very eyes. 

“Wait,” your eyes snap up to his own confused ones, “you said you liked me?” 

He opens his mouth, closes it in realization that he indeed had let it slip. 

“Yeah,” he finally mumbles while looking away, ‘Yeah. I like you Y/N. I’ve liked you a lot, for a long time.” 

Your entire body springs up in warmth, “why didn’t you tell me?” you whisper out hoarsely. 

Turning towards you so that there’s only millimetres between you, your eyes fall onto the soft curve of his collarbones underneath his white shirt, quickly snapping away to stop yourself from getting any wild ideas. 

“How could I?” he croaks out, “this whole betrothal thing is planned. I wanted to love someone truly, without titles. I loved you, not because I was betrothed to you. You were just--” his gaze flickers to your lips, “you.”

“Well maybe if you had told me sooner, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” 

“Maybe.”

“Sangyeon,” his dark orbs are swirling with warmth, with a tenderness that causes butterflies to shimmer across your chest when your gazes lock, “I really appreciate what you did. These past few days.” 

He chuckles softly, “that’s nothing to thank me for, princess.”

Sitting there with Sangyeon at your side, with his hand resting on yours and your bodies so close you can smell his cologne mixed with the natural scent of wood and summer breeze -- a scent that can only be defined as Sangyeon’s -- it almost feels like you’re part of a family. Your heart swells with emotion at the thought; maybe it’s not so bad after all, to be betrothed to someone like Sangyeon.

It takes a few seconds for you to realize he’s calling your name softly. Looking up into his doe brown orbs gleaming with an open kind of understanding, you find that you can’t possibly look away. The intensity of his gaze is enough to send your heart galloping out of your chest, and when you take a shaky inhale to calm yourself, you realize how close your faces actually are, so close you can see the tiniest freckles spattering across his cheek like galaxies of their own.

You wish to say something. Anything that might save you from staring at him like he’s a piece of art you can’t take your eyes off. But the words get stuck in the back of your throat like sandpaper, a gasp being the only thing that draws out of your mouth when you feel his hand gently cup your chin. 

Sangyeon’s thumb brushes against your lower lip and instantly, you feel your skin explode in goosebumps. He moves a little closer and the gasp that dies in the back of your throat catches his attention fully. 

It seems like ages go by without as much of an exchange. The world slips away, with only you and Sangyeon gazing into each other’s eyes, both trying to play it safe and yet, there’s definitely something in the air, the electricity that tingles along your spine is definitely not fantasy. 

Your hands ball into fists upon impulse. You can barely breathe, hearing your heart slamming against your ribcage. 

He leans a little closer. His mouth brushes against yours. Barely. 

Your breath hitches, body tensing up slightly.

And then he’s kissing your next breath away, arms lacing around your middle to pull you close while his lips slants over yours in the most sensual caresses that leaves you gasping. You melt right into his arms and he doesn’t hesitate to hold you up, his touch leaving searing paths of hot heat like an imprint that kept you reeling and wanting for more.

It’s only when your back hits the mattress that you realize that you’re lying down with Sangyeon hovering over you, breath staggering and muscles bunching up so that he can kiss you some more, a little deeper each time your mouths collide to ignite sparks behind your lids. Your hands slip around his shoulders to wrap around his torso, traveling up to his hair, his beautiful dark hair that slips through your fingers like silk, and the groan that echoes through his chest causes heat to pool inside your stomach.

With a knee pressing down between your own so that another gasp falls from your lips, the prince’s hands trace a sensual path along your stomach, trailing up to ghost over your chest. You breathe out softly, the smallest of whimpers escaping your mouth. That seems to please him, for his tongue darts out to part your lips with the softest of groans. 

It feels so good to have him against you, his heat pooling around yours in a comfortable safe haven that elicits nothing but desire. 

When he pulls away for air, you can’t help but whine at the loss of contact while tugging his neck back down in an attempt to steal another kiss from his lips.

Sangyeon lets out a throaty growl, “Y/N, princess, I don’t think that’s such a--” his words die into a moan the moment your mouth starts nibbling along his collarbone. His grip tightens around your waist, and before you know it, you’re backed up against the headboard of the bed right before his lips take yours in once more in a sinful dance of tongues.

“Y/N,” he groans against your mouth, hips unintentionally bucking up against yours when your soft curves roll in delicious desire, taunting him to take it a step further, “baby, stop...”

it is a surprise that he manages to wrench himself away, chest heaving and lips swollen. Your eyes flutter up to his face with a mixture of desire and affection clouding your gaze. 

“We can’t,” his soft murmur causes you to shiver. He proceeds to caress your cheekbone, “we’re going to lie down and sleep. And we’re not going to ruin this, not tonight.” 

You roll your eyes, though you smile softly “fine.” 

He flashes you another tender smile, then moves towards his side of the bed, tugging you along as he goes. With your head resting on his chest and with one arm wrapped securely around your waist, you allow your ear to be comforted by the soft heartbeats echoing through his chest, a soft reminder that this man’s heart beats for yours, and will beat for yours till the end of time.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You smile sleepily, “good night, Sangyeon.” 

You’re almost falling into the depths of sleep when you feel his mouth press a chaste kiss to your forehead.

---

[woodchoc-magnum]

Lone Star Episode 2x10 Hate Watch

If this ends up in the main Lone Star tag I apologise in advance, because I a) genuinely don’t know what that is and b) never intended for it to go there.

As always - if you love this show, great! I hate this show and I like to complain about it, and at this point I am only watching for Judd, Grace, Tommy and Buttercup.

Let’s do this fucking thing:

So Mateo lives in a share house situation like Buck did in season 1 of 911

Wow his friends are kind of assholes

Wow his friends are really fucking stupid

'I need new friends' understatement of the CENTURY

Oh wow Tarlos are moving in together ommggggg you guysssss they've developed this relationship so welllllll /sarcasm

#Carloscandobetter2k21

Thank GOD we can go back to our regularly scheduled Rob Lowe-apalooza after last week's Judd and Grace fest

I think Buttercup should go live with Carlos as well though just saying

Omg if Buttercup is DEAD I WILL LOSE MY FUCKING MIND THAT DOG BETTER NOT BE FUCKING DEAD I SWEAR TO GOD WHERE IS THE FUCKING DOG OH MY GOD WHERE IS THE FUCKING DOG

WHERE IS THE DOG

WHAT THE FUCK

OH THANK GOD

He was just getting his rocks off with the neighbour dog everything is fine

Fats Domino! Wow okay Lone Star great music choice

Hey Donovan the lacrosse douche is HOT

What is a sweet cream, I know not of your American treats

Oh WHAT IS THIS MACHINE

WHAT IS THIS DEATH MACHINE

Question – do machines in America not have auto shut-offs?

Love these assholes filming this poor girl what the fuck, people have no goddamn empathy anymore

No masks on literally anyone at all

COME THROUGH MARJAN

Nice for Nancy to actually have lines, good for her

These assholes with the phones though fuck these guys

I'm sorry I said he was hot I regret thinking he was hot

Oh my god they are DRILLING INTO HER LEG? WHAT THE FUCK?

Damn Marjan 10/10

Oh no it's the Owen broods a lot show

Is Mateo going to move in with Owen?

Oh fuck he is, isn't he

God poor Mateo

Just Rob Lowe casually lifting weights with Mateo in the gym while they have a deep conversation

What a legend

GRACE

It's been way too long without Grace and Judd in this show

He loves her so much

17 minutes in and I'm going to say that this episode has been very boring so far

Are there any fics that have paired Owen and Mateo up yet? Because I 100% think that will happen

Also when we were envisaging a roommates storyline for 911, we weren't envisaging it for Lone Star OKAY

One hundred percent someone has already written a fic about these two drunk fucking and listening to Steely Dan

21 minutes and I'm so bored

I broke out the chocolate covered almonds, my cat has gone to sleep… it's grim

Oooh Owen cancelled the surgery – why? Because he's a little BITCH

How does nobody know his house blew up? If a house blew up in my town, that would be front page news

Maybe Austin doesn't have a local newspaper though

Yeah that's right we still use newspapers here don't judge

I shouldn’t have opened these almonds, I'm 100% going to eat them all

And OMG GRACE HAS TAKEN HERSELF SHOPPING? DO YOU GUYS NOT HAVE HOME DELIVERY THERE? WHAT THE FUCK?!

Oh my god Grace

Girl

What the actual fuck were you thinking

SHE DROPPED THE DANG KEYS

GRACE ACCEPT HELP FROM YOUR HUSBAND OH MY GOD

YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE DRIVING

These are caps lock of concern okay? I'm WORRIED

Look when you're in a bad situation, just eat some ice cream, I get it

This kid is throwing a 10/10 temper tantrum

Why the fuck is Owen going up? He's the captain. Who runs things if he does all the things?

He's such a fucking knob I swear to god

Also question - why didn't they just climb out one of the conveniently placed windows near the child having a temper tantrum on the roof?

Yeah your friends actually care about you Owen? I have no idea why but maybe you shouldn't be fucking complaining about them you numpty

GRACE HAS BEEN IN THE CAR FOR SIX HOURS

I would’ve peed myself 100%, no way I can hold my bladder for 6 hours

She ate that whole thing, damn girl I've been there I get it. Obviously not stuck in the backseat of my car but like eating a whole pint of ice cream, yeah, I've been there.

Gina Rodriguez is a blessing to this show

"Get up Dad," TK says in a monotone

I wish the camera in 911 lingered on Eddie's ass the way it lingers on TK's ass, ngl

But in a respectful way, of course

Is this a fucking intervention jfc

Why am I watching this shit

The crossover was such a high point wasn't it? Remember when Eddie was running around in the filter looking so goddamn amazing… those were the days.

This show is so dumb. Nobody in the OG would do this to Bobby. It's so fucking corny and it only serves to prop up Owen as a character to the detriment of all the other characters

It's just an opportunity to blow smoke up his ass

One hundred percent Rob Lowe did the "smiling depression" thing in Parks & Rec – maybe Owen needs to pay a visit to Dr Richard Nygard, I hear he's doing amazing things in Pawnee, Indiana

It's amazing how much I like Rob Lowe in Parks & Rec and can't stand him in this show

I'm typing a lot because this show is dumb as fuck and it's also SO BORING

This is so boring

Ronen sucks so much

There's been like one interesting emergency and one boring one and the rest of it has just been Rob Lowe's bullshit

Except for Grace and Judd, god I love them

These two are amazing and they have such great chemistry. They can do some storylines on this show so well and the rest of it is just garbage

IF BUTTERCUP IS DEAD I WILL LOSE MY FUCKING MIND

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH BUTTERCUP

DON'T YOU DO IT SHOW

DON'T YOU FUCKING DO IT

BUTTERCUPPPPPPPPPP

Okay he's fine

This show really needs to stop toying with my emotions

Also absolutely no masks whatsoever in this show at all this episode, amazing. Haven't seen one.

Okay so overall I would say that the Grace and Judd stuff was great and everything else was terrible.

I also did NOT finish the almonds, admire my self control! Admire it!

3/10

Diaz to CLEANSE god look at that man holy shit

Remember the crossover guys? That was amazing

[ao3theskyisblue]

From the outside

Summary:

“You look like you could use a coffee.”

Kegan turned towards Officer Reyes, who was looking at him bemusedly, one arm leaning on the driver-side door and the other on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming on it rhythmically. He could also see the hint of concern in his gaze, no doubt seeing through his façade but also kindly didn’t ask questions Kegan wasn’t sure how to answer.

"Woke up late today."

Written for @911lonestarangstweek Day 2: Physical whump + “Does it hurt badly?” 

Just a heads up it’s OC-centric (outsider’s POV) 

Read on AO3

When Kegan woke up to complete silence, the light brighter than it should have been at 7am in the morning peeking in through the gap between his curtains, he should have known it was going to be a terrible day. There were no birds chirping, no neighbours yelling about broken lawn gnomes, nothing.

The quiet was always a cue for sudden disaster.

Fumbling for his phone on the bedside table, he lifted the screen only to fall off the bed with a loud thud and a string of curses at three realizations.

One: his snooze was a lie.

Two: he was going to be late on the last day of his trial week.

Three: he forgot to iron his uniform yesterday.

“Fuck me in the ear with a corn.” Kegan groaned, giving up on saving his duvet and instead shoving it in the general direction of the bed before sprinting to the bathroom. He shoved his toothbrush into his mouth, squeezing toothpaste on at the last second and hoping the brushes hopefully scraped across a few of his teeth.

He dampened his skin underneath a stream of cold water, but it wasn’t hardly enough for a towel to wipe off as he shimmied into his work clothes, slipping on his duty belt last. Grabbing a comb on his way out of the bathroom, he jumped the entirety of the stairs, miraculously without breaking a knee, and slid into the kitchen.

With his comb stuck in his curls.

His mother visibly startled, spinning around to look at him with eyes widened in shock, almost dropping the bowl of strawberries in her hand. Kegan snatched a few, ignoring his mother’s disapproving look before shoving them down his throat.  

“Shove them any harder and you’ll choke.” His mother says drily, placing the bowl onto the counter and Kegan works to swallow the three he managed to stuff in his mouth. He can feel the lumps slowly moving down his esophagus, the slight pain of the movement a nice distraction as he thought of all the excuses he could for why he would be showing up late today to the precinct.

Unfortunately, he knew who he would be shadowing today and lying to this man in particular twisted more guilt in his stomach than anyone else in the police department.

“Not the worst thing I’ve choked on.” Kegan shrugged, smiling at his mother innocently when she scrunched up her nose.

“Sorry I didn’t wake you, I thought you’d already left.” Kegan stilled at that, the smile on his face now a mere gesture of courtesy rather than truth as he looked away.

They both knew why she didn’t bother waking him up. He didn’t need to be studying to become a police officer to hear the blatant lie through his mother’s voice, and that phone call he happened to overhear a few days ago suddenly rang loudly in his ears.

Kegan didn’t bother with a response, instead heading out of the kitchen and towards the entranceway, grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door. He didn’t look up to know his mother was watching him, eyes piercing him like a hawk as he stood in uniform.

“I don’t know why you’re trying so hard to prove a point.”

The words came out quiet, as if just an absent thought that was accidentally said out loud, but Kegan looked up this time, eyes blazing with a ferocity that had his mother stepping back in response.

“I’m not doing this to prove anybody a point,” Kegan says lowly, anger prickling along his spine and making the hairs on his arms stand on end. “I’m doing it for me. You don’t need to understand, or support me. But say it to my face next time instead of behind my back. Stabbing me would hurt less.”

Kegan didn’t wait for his mother’s reaction before pulling the front door open roughly and slamming it shut behind him. The bright sun seemed to be taunting him with its brilliant presence, as if shining any brighter would overcloud the dark shadow that seemed to never stop looming over him ever since they packed their bags and left Venice.

It was going to be a terrible day.

 .

Two hours into his shift, and Kegan already wanted to drown himself in his bathtub while holding onto a plugged-in toaster.

Two fender benders that involved idiots and their screaming that probably left permanent scarring to his eardrums. A woman who thought her neighbours had gotten into a fight with all the banging on the walls until they arrived and saw things that almost made him grab the nearest bottle of sanitizer and scrub his eyes clean. Then there was the elderly man who thought someone was trying to break into his house only to find a woodpecker innocently drilling a hole on the side of his doorframe.

It couldn’t get any worse, could it?  

“You look like you could use a coffee.”

Kegan turned towards Officer Reyes, who was looking at him bemusedly, one arm leaning on the driver-side door and the other on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming on it rhythmically. He could also see the hint of concern in his gaze, no doubt seeing through his façade but also kindly didn’t ask questions Kegan wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Woke up late today. Didn’t have time to grab anything before we were called in.” Kegan sighed, not bothering with keeping his guard up. He’s shadowed Officer Reyes a few times during the trial week, and he was one of the few officers in Austin PD that he actually liked. One thing he’s learned from the first time he shadowed him was that the man had no time for bullshit. Emotions, including ones that told him to just punch straight through walls were valid as long as he talked about it.

Open communication and all that.

They were doing a routine patrol, eyes peeled and other senses alert for any calls that could come through the radio. So far, the calls had been mostly in other districts that already had their own patrols answering, and the next light was the indication they successfully drove one full loop. So, when Officer Reyes suddenly turned right when they were supposed to go straight, Kegan frowned.

“Uh, were we supposed to make that turn just now?” Kegan peered back, not like that could have done anything to change the direction they were driving but Officer Reyes just shook his head.

“There’s a café nearby.” At his skeptical look, the officer rolled his eyes. “The city will be fine if we take a five-minute break.” Officer Reyes says, making Kegan raise an eyebrow. Of the limited time they’ve spent time together, he never pegged him to be a complete rule-sticker, but this unexpected gesture still caught him off guard.

They stopped next to a fairly busy café, the store sign making him snort in disbelief as he got out of the cruiser, shutting the door behind him.

“Definitely not ominous.” Kegan says wryly, looking up at the vibrant ‘The Hideout Café – Seek Out Your Poison!’ sign above his head. There was a quiet chuckle beside him, and he turned to see Officer Reyes sporting a wide smile, amusement dancing across his features. He looked around the area and frowned when he saw a red minivan travelling suspiciously towards them.

“Hey, isn’t that car driving too fast?” Kegan moved to get a better look, frowning when the vehicle not only didn’t slow down, but instead seemed to be deliberately heading towards them.

He turned towards Reyes, about to ask what they should do in this situation but frowned when his eyes widened in horror.

His hand was already on his radio, but nothing could have prepared him for a shout, a hard shove, and the equivalence of his soul being knocked out of him.

And just like the day the cops showed up to his doorstep with bulletproof vests and guns raised in search of his father, his world stopped.

.

The individual granules of sand in an hourglass.

He remembered staring at them when he was younger, fascinated as the particles slowly trickled down with time. It was hypnotizing, but he would glance up occasionally to gaze at the clock hanging above the piano, watching the minuscule tilt of the hour-hand each time the minute-hand made its rotation.

It was a weird sensation, the brief moment where your life flashes by in old film. But just as quick as they came, they’re abruptly cut off as if given to him at the wrong time.

There were thoughts sluggishly trying to make sense in his mind, and Kegan wondered if memories could transcend the living and stay with the dead.

He winced against the sun’s rays, the crick in his back making itself known before he was assaulted by a cacophony of sound.

“-okay? Someone call 911!”

“They literally are 911-”

“I don’t think the other officer’s breathing.”

Kegan sat up abruptly at that, testing his fingers and toes and letting out a breath of relief when he felt them both. He couldn’t help but notice the red minivan speeding off, his training kicking in and automatically memorizing the license plate before it disappeared in the crowd.

“Are you alright, officer?”

Kegan turned his head towards the voice, seeing a barista leaning over him slightly, eyes wide with shock and concern. He opened his mouth to reply, before the entirety of his memories kicked back in.

Where was Officer Reyes?

Kegan scrambled up, staggering and clutching onto the barista’s shoulder when he reached out to steady him. His eyes darted around the crowded street, ignoring the phones and insistent chatter and focused on something a little way away from him.

No.

Stumbling forward, he forced his legs to move towards the man sprawled down on the sidewalk, one hand leaning down to feel for a pulse and the other reaching for his radio.

“This is 363-H-20. I need medics at Congress and 7th, officer down! Send out an APB for a red minivan with Texas licence plates Alpha-Charlie-Foxtrot-3875.” Kegan didn’t know how he hadn’t stuttered when his heart was currently beating outside of his chest, barely clinging onto the last moments of clarity.  He barely heard the affirmative through dispatch for both his requests, before leaning down to see if the man laying so still beneath him was still breathing.

He was, and his pulse was steady, but he wasn’t awake.

“Officer Reyes? Can you hear me?” Kegan pinched his earlobe, his instincts and training working on autopilot, and slapped the ground beside Officer Reyes’ ears a few times.

The man didn’t so much as stir.

Kegan made sure to consistently check his pulse and breathing, prodding his body gently for any injuries he might have missed, eyes flitting up every few seconds to watch for eye movement. He didn’t move the man, the paramedics would be the judge of that, and he couldn’t see anything else other than a nasty bruise starting to form just above his lower back.

“How is he?”

Kegan barely spared the barista, who was still crouching beside him for some reason, a look as he shook his head.

“I don’t-”

“Rossi?”

Kegan’s whirled his head, letting out a choked sound of relief when he saw Officer Reyes blinking blearily at him, looking beyond confused. There was a 7-second delay before he seemed to remember what had happened, and Kegan didn’t hesitate to hold him still when he tried to get up.

“Are you okay? Did you get hit?” Officer Reyes asked, and Kegan let out a sound of disbelief, hearing the barista beside him scoff incredulously. That sound almost validated everything he was thinking at the moment, and absently noted to buy the barista a drink for their service.

“Officer Reyes, was it? You were just thrown in the air like a sack of potatoes when that idiot driver decided the sidewalk would be the perfect place to take his new wheels for a spin,” The barista said, and Kegan glanced at the name card that read ‘Lawrence.’ Kegan startled when Lawrence turned towards him, a kind but worried smile still present on his lips. “If you hadn’t pushed this one out of the way and yelled that warning, things could have gone a lot worse.”

Kegan bit back a sharp retort on how it was already a worse case scenario because someone got hurt, but his mother had always told him to bite his tongue when emotions were running on fumes, and he knew nothing would come from yelling at a barista for something out of his control.

“Well, at least I can skip the paperwork.” Kegan narrowed his eyes, sending the other officer a dirty look.

“Oh, you’re doing all the paperwork. I’m even giving you mine, seeing as you just stripped at least five years off my lifespan.” Kegan glowered, and Reyes had the sheer audacity to laugh weakly. “Can you wiggle your toes?” He sighed in relief when he saw the slight movement, though still kept the officer as still as possible for the paramedics to confirm.

The sound of distant sirens grew closer, and Kegan immediately spun around from the noise when he heard the officer groan.

“What? What’s wrong? Where’s the pain?” Kegan asked, ready to dive in at a moment’s notice but Reyes was focused on something past him.

“I’m about the get the lecture of a lifetime. From all three of them.” The man muttered, and Kegan looked back to see the ambulance parked by the sidewalk, three figures hopping out. One of the female paramedics tossed something to the male, who caught it without even looking at her. They were making their way towards them, and Kegan frowned when the male paramedic suddenly froze, eyes widening at their figures on the ground. He could have sworn he didn’t blink, but one second the paramedic was by the ambulance, the next he was crouching down next to Officer Reyes, stethoscope ready and already checking ABCs.

“This isn’t your usual area.” Officer Reyes says in lieu of a greeting, and Kegan unconsciously stepped back to give them some space to work and to avoid the dark aura encircling the male paramedic who looked up, unimpressed.

“I could say the same for you.” There were some medical words exchanged then, and Kegan heard what he guessed to be the Captain spell out a series of tests they’ll do at the hospital. He couldn’t help but feel another wave of anxiety when the C collar got strapped on – that’s usually a bad thing, right? The male paramedic barely spared him a glance before shining a flashlight in Officer Reyes’ eyes.

“Name.”

“Really?”

“Answer the question.”

“Carlos Reyes.”

He stood to the side, watching as the Captain cautiously lifted Reyes’ uniform and frown at the bruising, prodding it skillfully and gauging the officer’s reaction. He could see the male paramedic flinch as if just the sight of the injury caused him insurmountable pain.

“D-does it, um, does it hurt badly?”

Four pairs of eyes turned to look at him, and Kegan really wished he had heeded his mother’s advice to just keep on sticking his foot in his mouth.

“No,” the male paramedic started sarcastically, a TK Strand that Kegan could make out now stitched on his uniform, “He’s just fine and dandy being run over by a four thousand pound moving brick. He can finally check it off his to-do list for the day.” TK scowled, his movements more aggressive than usual when swinging the stethoscope around his neck again, but Kegan could still see how the anger seemed to fade when he worked with the others to prod the officer for other injuries.

He heard a few snickers from the other two female paramedics that were quickly covered by badly hidden coughs, and really wished Mother Nature would offer him a hole to climb into.

Officer Reyes, who was still a little out of it but thankfully very much alive seemed to be on the verge of laughter himself. “TK, stop scaring him. I’m fine.”

Kegan winced, feeling the change in atmosphere before TK’s eyes even narrowed, and if he wasn’t quite frozen in place he would definitely have stumbled a few steps back from avoiding the icy chill that filled the air around them.

“You and I must have very different definitions of ‘fine.’” TK muttered. Kegan felt chills running down his spine at the deadly glint when those eyes passed over him for a millisecond.

It suddenly sent him back to when he was five years old, when he had brought a stray puppy home and learned how to fear a human being for the first time. His father had looked at the puppy like it was the worst thing created by mother nature, before taking it away and he never saw the little golden retriever again.

Now he knew why.

But he also attributed green eyes to his grandmother, who was an entire ball of warmth.

Who knew green eyes that had always felt so comforting whenever his grandmother smothered him with hugs and kisses when he was younger could feel like daggers that could skewer you alive on another person?

“I’m sorry we never got your coffee.” Kegan looked down at Officer Reyes, who was looking up at him apologetically, and Kegan didn’t know whether he should cry or punch something at how unreasonably nice he was being. They weren’t close, but Kegan respected him immensely, and he could tell from the way TK’s shoulders hadn’t relaxed from their tense position that he wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“I’ve already received the wake-up call of the century. Coffee’s on me next time.” Kegan says lightly, before his eyes widened in horror as TK turned his stormy gaze on him. “Not that I want you to get hit by another car! I’ll gladly take the coffee over any car. And I’ll stop talking. Like right now.”

Yeah, he really needed that bath with the toaster. Maybe he’ll even add in his mother’s hair straightener just to seal the deal.

“Why don’t you sit down?” The Captain, Vega, says kindly, eyes shining with exasperated amusement as she shoots TK a look, and Kegan looks at her, puzzled.

“Why?”

“We need to check you over, too.” The other female paramedic, Gillian, says. She’s looking at him kindly, but doesn’t leave TK’s side as they make sure Carlos is stable for transport.

“But I’m fine? He’s the one who lost consciousness for a few minutes.” Kegan frowns in confusion, and sees TK whirl his head back towards the officer, looking like he wanted to throttle the man.

“And you didn’t think that was vital information?”

“It wasn’t that long!”

“Any length of time being unwillingly unconscious is important, Carlos.”

There was a moment of unspoken words between them and an exchanged look with Captain Vega before Gillian started checking for head injuries. There weren’t any visual signs of trauma, but Kegan has seen enough medical dramas to always expect the impossible.

“And to add on to earlier, no one who gets manhandled by this guy ever ends up fine. The shock may be hiding injuries you can’t feel right now.” TK looked up at him, but not before giving Officer Reyes another glare when he makes a noise in protest.

“I’m not that bad!”

“Tell that to your kitchen counter. And the bedroom wall.” The smallest of smiles lights up TK’s face, and Kegan watches in awe as Officer Reyes grins unabashedly at that.

He didn’t even know the man had any other expressions other than polite smiles and stoic everythings.

“You were on scene for all of them, care to share the grievance?” The soft look they exchanged made something in Kegan’s brain click in place, and he felt himself smiling despite current events.

In the end, they had been lucky. Had Officer Reyes not pushed him away when he did, the accident would have ended up with a black bag and cops knocking on his mother’s doorstep, when the last thing he said to her wasn’t ‘I love you.’ He would be walking away with minor aches, and Officer Reyes-

Had closed his eyes.

He wasn’t the only one that noticed, judging by how TK’s face drained in colour, eyes wide as he tried to get Officer Reyes to open his eyes.

“Carlos? Hey, stay awake – Carlos?! Cap!!” TK immediately reached his fingers to check Carlos’ pulse, and Kegan watched with bated breath as medical jargon sprout out from all three of them, with Captain Vega swearing under her breath when Gillian mentioned something about chest movement.

“We need to get him to a hospital, now.” The other two paramedics immediately lifted Officer Reyes on the stretcher, running towards the ambulance and Kegan could only watch, horrified when TK yelled that they had lost a pulse.

He had been conscious earlier.

He had been talking.

And now he could be –

“Go.”

Kegan startled, turning his head to see Lawrence gently guiding him towards the ambulance.

“I’ll keep an eye on your police car. You’re in no state to drive, and I think you’ll feel better if you go with them.” Lawrence urged, and Kegan didn’t know what else to say but a quick ‘thank you,’ receiving a shoulder squeeze in response before jumping into the back of the ambulance, the paramedics not even batting an eye as they sped off.

They must have gotten Officer Reyes’ pulse back in the time between his hesitancy and the nudge from Lawrence, so Kegan tried his best to focus on the weak but steady rhythm of the heart monitor as TK and Captain Vega worked to make sure his heart kept on beating.

He’s never had a problem being a shadow on the sidelines, and ever since his father’s arrest he’s been walking on eggshells around everything and everyone. Which is why he sat, stock still, and didn’t say a word as Captain Vega quietly murmured how Carlos was stable for now, the words doing nothing to rid the fear still present in TK’s eyes.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off the officer laying on the stretcher before them, and Kegan wasn’t sure he had even blinked. Their hands were tightly linked together, and there was a wet shine in his eyes.

“Come back to me.” He heard him whisper, and his own heart bled with guilt and despair as TK bowed his head, seeing his frame shaking as he clung onto a hand that just wouldn’t squeeze back.  

He should have been the one on the stretcher.

Why didn’t they take him instead?

It wasn’t fair.

.

“I’m sorry.”

The hospital waiting area was mostly empty, and he hadn’t allowed himself a moment to breathe until he heard the doctors give TK and the rest of the 126 who had all arrived one by one to make one big family the all clear. That had been minutes? hours? ago, and Kegan still couldn’t get past the roaring in his ears, the tightness of his chest as they all waited for the officer to wake up.

He was staying overnight for observation, and he faintly remembered being checked over himself in the blurred haze of everything. He couldn’t for the life of him remember who did it, or what questions he was asked, just that he would be walking away with minor bruising and some superficial scratches.

Officer Reyes on the other hand…

He had heard through the grapevine that they had caught the guy, and it was a brief moment of satisfaction that didn’t do much other than give him the relief that he was behind bars instead of behind another wheel of a car.

He looked up for the first time since entering those hospital doors. TK was staring at him with an unreadable expression in his gaze before Kegan could make out the small upward twitch of his lips.

“You’ve done nothing to apologize for,” TK says quietly, wincing a little. “In fact, I’m the one that’s sorry for my attitude back at the scene. I was a little – I was worried.” TK lifted a hand to run through his hair, before giving him a more genuine smile.

Ah, he was starting to see why Officer Reyes always seemed to melt underneath that gaze. The paramedic’s eyes were a couple degrees warmer than they had been earlier, the irises reflecting pools of green in the bright ceiling lights.

“He’s a good cop, and an even better person. He did what he thought was right, and it wasn’t your fault. You were just doing your job. And you were the reason they caught the guy, they found him not long after trying to cross state lines.” Kegan swallowed down the lump in his throat at that, the subtle acknowledgement warming him up inside.

Moving half-way across the globe to escape the scars his father left on their family was one thing, enrolling into the police academy and painstakingly working his ass off to show that he belonged was another. Ever since the arrest, being the son of a notorious serial killer had become his identity. Suddenly, his childhood dreams of becoming an officer of the law meant nothing – all washed down the drain by his father’s blood-soaked hands.

He would never understand why he deserved to live when the people his father killed did not. Years of pondering potential what if’s and self-loathing slowly ate him up inside, and he knew his mother only wanted what was best for him. He didn’t enroll in the police academy to prove anyone a point, to show that their family still had some sort of light worth saving but because he wanted to help. Because he wanted to be better, and he wanted to work for it.

But that didn’t mean the world wasn’t cruel in other ways.

Being labeled as the ‘grim-reaper’ certainly was one, where people assumed that anyone who came into contact with him were automatically doomed to die. It didn’t help that his own father had used it to his advantage, and it was something he would probably never forgive himself for.

And today was just shot to hell with the almost-death of his superior driving him over the edge. He had almost been indirectly responsible for another death of a good man, so when the doctors had given them good news, Kegan almost sobbed in relief. He’s been on the receiving end of looks of anguish, of dismay, of anger and frustration.

Seeing someone look at him with hope and reassurance was new, and hearing words that weren’t laced with malice and false approval made the heavy load of the day lighten a little.

It hadn’t been a good day. And tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed for anyone.

But as Kegan accepted the gentle pat on the shoulder and a friendly smile, he knew that through the dark times, he will find the light.

He wasn’t there yet, and he didn’t know if he would find it at all – but he would try.

And that would have to be enough.

He calls out to TK again, and watches as the man pauses in his steps, turning to look at him curiously.

“So, how long have you two been married?” He asks, a playful grin stretching across his lips, laughing when he sees the paramedic’s cheeks go through the different shades of red in a fascinating colour show. His eyes narrow, but his lips are twitching in amusement, and he waves for Kegan to follow him to Carlos’ recovery room. He’s about to protest, not wanting to intrude, but TK just rolls his eyes and grabs his arm gently to tug him along.

“So, you’re the cheeky new rookie Carlos mentioned,” TK muses, and Kegan raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know I was such a hot topic of conversation,” Kegan responds, not liking how TK’s grin suddenly turns wicked.

“Oh, he told me all about that time you knocked an entire crate of fresh tomatoes onto a perp who tried to escape. The street vendor wasn’t very happy, now was she?” TK winks, and Kegan feels the tables turn, his cheeks lighting on fire at the memory.

No, she certainly was not happy. Getting chased by an elderly woman who spent hours arranging her food stall while holding a broom above her head through the entire marketplace was not something he wanted to re-live. Ever.

“And, to answer your question, we’re not married,” TK continues, his smile turning a touch soft, and Kegan makes a sound of disbelief.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He doesn��t dodge the shove he receives at that, and as they close the rest of the distance to Carlos’ room, Kegan smiles.

He could get used to Austin.

[xallreaders]

Izuku x Reader Smut Headcanons

All characters are aged up to 18 or above

So, Izuku and sex, where to begin?

Did you know he loves you? If you didn’t then you will because it’s every other thing he says while you two are engaged in the act.

You two are quite active as well. He’s not one for risks, unless you persuade him (we’ll get to that later), but when the two of you are alone together, well you two can’t resist each other.

One of his top turn-ons is praise. He has a HUGE praise kink. The thing is you can praise him about nearly anything and it gets him. You can make him nearly cum from just words alone.

I will say he gets really paranoid about protection. He buys those extra safe condoms just to be careful. If you’re not on birth control he won’t force you to go on it but he will try to persuade you. 

A little side note, he buys his condoms in bulk because he takes a 3-hour train ride to the next town over from the next town over to buy them. He’s just too scared to buy them from anywhere nearby.

Also, his cock is HUGE. I mean the thing is about 9 inches long and 2.5 inches thick. It’s also weirdly sensitive. I mean you really thought that he was exaggerating when he was moaning at you just stroking him, but it’s not an act.

You once persuaded him to try and use his quirk during sex. It backfired quite badly, he didn’t know how to distribute it… To make a long story short he fractured his pelvis. That was a very difficult one to explain

He discovered that he loves shower sex. He finished his workout one afternoon and took a shower, feeling spontaneous you dove in there with him. Anyway, whenever ones of you is going to take a shower he gives you puppy dog eyes.

He LOVES to carry you during sex. It’s a little self-indulgence of his to be able to show off his strength while the two of you do it, praise him during that and he’s gone.

He also adores oral sex. Both ways. He has a notebook on you (no surprise) where he records every one of your reactions and fine-tunes himself into giving you the best oral sex in the world. When receiving, he can’t keep still. It’s already established that he’s incredibly sensitive, so blowjobs are just too much for the poor guy. He’ll whine, bite his lip, chew his cheeks, wriggle his legs. It drives him crazy.

The tiniest thing rev him up. If you bend over, he’s ready, you take off a sweater, he’s there, you cheer him on? You better believe he’ll be on you.

The two of you have, keyword approaching, tried roleplay in the bedroom. He was a hero and you were a helpless civilian who was rewarding him for rescuing them. Neither of you could go a few in-character words without cracking up. It was a fun night.

Now to the embarrassing stuff.

The two of you think that you’re keeping your sex life secret. You’re REALLY not. You’ve broken two beds, Izuku took the wrap for that claiming that his quirk went off in his sleep. All Might decided to ignore how the quirk went off at the part of the bed where his crotch would be. Also, the two of you are very vocal, your dorm neighbours hear everything. They’ve all taken to wearing earplugs. Lastly, none of you can explain away the holes in the walls behind your headboards.

There was also the sexting incident. ONCE you sent him ONE picture of yourself. However, that once was the time when he and Iida were studying together. You then both had to sit through a two-hour lecture from Iida where he attempted to drill into you the importance of upkeep the pristine reputation of UA. Being honest you could have stood it if that was the only subject. It wasn’t. He then went on to lecture you about hormones, pregnancy, STDs and finished it all with a song on abstinence. Important thing to remember, all of you were in your third year of UA when he did this.

Regardless, the two of you always have fun. And in the end, that’s all that matters. Though Bakugo would disagree.

[betterdaysareatoenailaway]

Random Review #3: Sleepwalkers (1992) and “Sleep Walk” (1959)

I. Sleepwalkers (1992) I couldn’t sleep last night so I started watching a trashy B-movie penned by Stephen King specifically for the screen called Sleepwalkers (1992). Simply put, the film is an unmitigated disaster. A piece of shit. But it didn’t need to be. That’s what’s so annoying about it. By 1992 King was a grizzled veteran of the silver screen, with more adaptations under his belt than any other author of his cohort. Puzo had the Godfather films (1972 and 1974, respectively), sure, but nothing else. Leonard Gardner had Fat City (1972), a movie I love, but Gardner got sucked into the Hollywood scene of cocaine and hot tub parties and never published another novel, focusing instead on screenplays for shitty TV shows like NYPD Blue. After Demon Seed (1977), a movie I have seen and disliked, nobody would touch Dean Koontz’s stuff with a ten foot pole, which is too bad because The Voice of the Night, a 1980 novel about two young pals, one of whom is a psychopath trying to convince the other to help him commit murder, would make a terrific movie. But Koontz’s adaptations have been uniformly awful. The made-for-TV film starring John C McGinley, 1997′s Intensity, is especially bad. There are exceptions, but Stephen King has been lucky enough to avoid the fate of his peers. Big name directors have tackled his work, from Stanley Kubrick to Brian De Palma. King even does a decent job of acting in Pet Semetary (1989), in his own Maximum Overdrive (1986) and in George Romero’s Creepshow (1982), where he plays a yokel named Jordy Verril who gets infected by a meteorite that causes green weeds to grow all over his body. Many have criticized King’s over-the-top performance in that flick, but for me King perfectly nails the campy and comical tone that Romero was going for. The dissolves in Creepshow literally come right off the pages of comics, so people expecting a subtle Ordinary People-style turn from King had clearly walked into the wrong theatre. Undoubtedly Creepshow succeeds at what it set out to do. I’m not sure Sleepwalkers succeeds though, unless the film’s goal was to get me to like cats even more than I already do. But I already love cats a great deal. Here’s my cat Cookie watching me edit this very blog post. 

And here’s one of my other cats, Church, named after the cat that reanimates and creeps out Louis and Ellie in Pet Sematary. Photo by @ScareAlex.

SPOILER ALERT: Do not keep reading if you plan on watching Sleepwalkers and want to find out for yourself what happens.

Stephen King saw many of his novels get adapted in the late 1970s and 80s: Carrie, The Shining, Firestarter, Christine, Cujo, and the movie that spawned the 1950s nostalgia industrial complex, Stand By Me, but Sleepwalkers was the first time he wrote a script specifically for the screen rather than adapting a novel that already existed. Maybe that’s why it’s so fucking bad. Stephen King is a novelist, gifted with a novelist’s rich imagination. He’s prone to giving backstories to even the most peripheral characters - think of Joe Chamber’s alcoholic neighbour Gary Pervier in the novel Cujo, who King follows for an unbelievable number of pages as the man stumbles drunkenly around his house spouting his catch phrase “I don’t give a shit,” drills a hole through his phone book so he can hang it from a string beside his phone, complains about his hemorrhoids getting “as big as golfballs” (I’m not joking), and just generally acts like an asshole until a rabid Cujo bounds over, rips his throat out, and he bleeds to death. In the novel Pervier’s death takes more than a few pages, but it makes for fun reading. You hate the man so fucking much that watching him die feels oddly satisfying. In the movie, though, his death occurs pretty quickly, and in a darkened hallway, so it’s hard to see what’s going on aside from Gary’s foot trembling. And Pervier’s “I don’t give a shit” makes sense when he’s drilling a hole in the phone book, not when he’s about to be savagely attacked by a rabid St Bernard. There’s just less room for back story in movies. In a medium that demands pruning and chiseling and the “less is more” dictum, King’s writing takes a marked turn for the worse. King is a prose maximalist, who freely admits to “writing to outrageous lengths” in his novels, listing It, The Stand, and The Tommyknockers as particularly egregious examples of literary logorrhea. He is not especially equipped to write concisely. This weakness is most apparent in Sleepwalkers’ dialogue, which sounds like it was supposed to be snappy and smart, like something Aaron Sorkin would write, but instead comes off like an even worse Tango & Cash, all bad jokes and shitty puns. More on those bad jokes later. First, the plot.

Sleepwalkers is about a boy named Charles and his mother Mary who travel around the United States killing and feeding off the lifeforce of various unfortunate people (if this sounds a little like The True Knot in Doctor Sleep, you’re not wrong. But self-plagiarism is not a crime). Charles and Mary are shapeshifting werewolf-type creatures called werecats, a species with its very own Wikipedia page. Wikipedia confers legitimacy dont’cha know, so lets assume werecats are real beings. According to said page, a werecat, “also written in a hyphenated form as were-cat) is an analogy to ‘werewolf’ for a feline therianthropic creature.” I’m gonna spell it with the hyphen from now on because “werecats” just looks like a typo. Okay? Okay.

Oddly enough, the were-cats in Sleepwalkers are terrified of cats. Actual cats. For the were-cats, cute kittens = kryptonite. When they see a cat or cats plural, this happens to them:

^ That is literally a scene from the movie. Charles is speeding when a cop pulls alongside him and bellows at him to pull over. Ever the rebel, Charles flips the cop the finger. But the cop has a cat named Clovis in his car, and when the cat pops up to have a look at the kid (see below), Charles shapeshifts first into a younger boy, then into whatever the fuck that is in the above screenshot.

Now, the were-cats aversion to normal cats is confusing because one would assume a were-cat to be a more evolved (or perhaps devolved?) version of the typical house kitty. The fact that these were-cats are bipedal alone suggests an advantage over our furry four-legged friends, no? Kinda like if humans were afraid of fucking gorillas. Wait...we are scared of gorillas. And chimpanzees. And all apes really. Okay, maybe the conceit of the film isn’t so silly after all. The film itself, however, is about as silly as a bad horror movie can get. When the policeman gets back to precinct and describes the incident above (”his face turned into a blur”) he is roundly ridiculed because in movies involving the supernatural nobody believes in the supernatural until it confronts them. It’s the law, sorry. Things don’t end well for the cop. Or for the guy who gets murdered when the mom stabs him with...an ear of corn. Yes, an ear of corn. Somehow, the mother is able to jam corn on the cob through a man’s body, without crushing the vegetable or turning it into yellow mash. It’s pretty amazing. Here is a sample of dialog from that scene: Cop About To Die On The Phone to Precinct: There’s blood everywhere! *STAB* Murderous Mother: No vegetables, no dessert. That is actually a line in the movie. “No vegetables, no dessert.” It’s no “let off some steam, Bennett” but it’s close. Told ya I’d get back to the bad jokes. See, Mary and Charles are new in town and therefore seeking to ingratiate themselves by killing everyone who suspects them of being weird, all while avoiding cats as best they can. At one point Charles yanks a man’s hand off and tells him to "keep [his] hands to [him]self," giving the man back his severed bloody hand. Later on Charles starts dating a girl who will gradually - and I do mean gradually - come to realize her boyfriend is not a real person but in fact a were-cat. Eventually our spunky young protagonist - Madchen Amick, who fans of Twin Peaks will recognize as Shelly - and a team of cats led by the adorable Clovis- kill the were-cat shapeshifting things and the sleepy small town (which is named Travis for some reason) goes back to normal, albeit with a slightly diminished population. For those keeping score, that’s Human/Cat Alliance 1, Shapeshifting Were-cats 0. It is clear triumph for the felis catus/people team! Unless we’re going by kill count, in which case it is closer to Human/Cat Alliance 2, Were-cats 26. I arrived at this figure through my own notes but also through a helpful video that takes a comprehensive and complete “carnage count” of all kills in Sleepwalkers: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmt-DroK6uA

II. Santo & Johnny “Sleep Walk” (1959) Because Sleepwalkers is decidedly not known for its good acting or its well-written screenplay, it is perhaps best known for its liberal and sometimes contrapuntal use of Santo & Johnny’s classic steel guitar song “Sleep Walk,” possibly the most famous (and therefore best) instrumental of the 20th century. Some might say “Sleep Walk” is tied for the #1 spot with “Green Onions” by Booker T & the M.G.’s and/or “Wipe Out” by The Surfaris, but I disagree. The Santo & Johnny song is #1 because of its incalculable influence on all subsequent popular music. 

I’m not saying “Wipe Out” didn't inspire a million imitators, both contemporaneously and even decades later…for example here’s a surf rock instrumental from 1999 called “Giant Cow" by a Toronto band called The Urban Surf Kings. The video was one of the first to be animated using Flash (and it shows):

So there are no shortage of surf rock bands, even now, decades after its emergence from the shores of California to the jukeboxes of Middle America. My old band Sleep for the Nightlife used to regularly play Rancho Relaxo with a surf rock band called the Dildonics, who I liked a great deal. There's even a Danish surf rock band called Baby Woodrose, whose debut album is a favourite of mine. They apparently compete for the title of Denmark’s biggest surf pop band with a group called The Setting Son. When a country that has no surfing culture and no beaches has multiple surf rock bands, it is safe to say the genre has attained international reach. As far as I can tell, there aren’t many bands out there playing Booker T & the M.G.’s inspired instrumental rock. Link Wray’s “Rumble” was released four years before “Green Onions.” But the influence of Santo and Johnny’s “Sleep Walk” is so ubiquitous as to be almost immeasurable. The reason for this is the sheer popularity of the song’s chord progression. If Santo and Johnny hadn’t written it first, somebody else would have, simply because the progression is so beautiful and easy on the ears and resolvable in a satisfying way. Have a listen to “Sleep Walk” first and then let’s check out some songs it directly inspired. 

The chords are C, A minor, F and G. Minor variations sometimes reverse the last two chords, but if it begins with C to A minor, you can bet it’s following the “Sleep Walk” formula, almost as if musicians influenced by the song are in the titular trance. When it comes to playing guitar, Tom Waits once said “your hands are like dogs, going to the same places they’ve been. You have to be careful when playing is no longer in the mind but in the fingers, going to happy places. You have to break them of their habits or you don’t explore; you only play what is confident and pleasing.” Not only is it comforting to play and/or hear what we already know, studies have shown that our brains actively resist new music, because it takes work to understand the new information and assimilate it into a pattern we are cogent of. It isn’t until the brain recognizes the pattern that it gives us a dopamine rush. I’m not much for Pitchfork anymore, but a recent article they posted does a fine job of discussing this phenomenon in greater detail.

Led Zeppelin’s “D’Yer Maker” uses the “Sleep Walk” riff prominently, anchored by John Bonham and John Paul Jones’ white-boy reggae beat: 

Here it is again with Del Shannon’s classic “Little Town Flirt.” I love Shannon’s falsetto at the end when he goes “you better run and hide now bo-o-oy.”

The Beatles “Happiness is a Warm Gun” uses the Sleep Walk progression, though not for the whole song. It goes into the progression at the bridge at 1:34: 

Tumblr won’t let me embed any more videos, so you’ll to travel to another tab to hear these songs, but Neil Young gets in on the act with his overlooked classic “Winterlong:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV6r66n3TFI On their 1996 EP Interstate 8 Modest Mouse pay direct homage by singing over their own rendition of the original Santo & Johnny version, right down to the weeping steel guitar part: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT_PwXjCqqs The vocals are typical wispy whispered indie rock vocals, but I think they work, particularly the two different voices. They titled their version “Sleepwalking (Couples Only Dance Prom Night).”

Dwight Yoakam’s “Thousand Miles From Nowhere” makes cinematic use of it. This song plays over the credits of one of my all-time favourite movies, 1993′s Red Rock West feat. Nicolas Cage, Lara Flynn Boyle, Dennis Hopper, and J.T. Walsh https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tu3ypuKq8WE

“39″ is my favourite Queen song. I guess now I know why. It uses my fav chord progression: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kE8kGMfXaFU 

Blink 182 scored their first hit “Dammit” with a minor variation on the Sleep Walk chord progression: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sT0g16_LQaQ

Midwest beer drinkin bar rockers Connections scored a shoulda-been-a-hit with the fist-pumping “Beat the Sky:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSNRq0n_WYA You’d be hard pressed to find a weaker lead singer than this guy (save for me, natch), but they make it work. This one’s an anthem.

Spoon, who have made a career out of deconstructing rock n’ roll, so that their songs sometimes sound needlessly sparse (especially “The Ghost of You Lingers,” which takes minimalism to its most extreme...just a piano being bashed on staccato-style for four minutes), so it should surprise nobody that they re-arrange the Sleep Walk chords on their classic from Gimme Fiction, “I Summon You:” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=teXA8N3aF9M I love that opening line: remember the weight of the world was a sound that we used to buy? I think songwriter Britt Daniel is talking about buying albums from the likes of Pearl Jam or Smashing Pumpkins, any of those grunge bands with pessimistic worldviews. There are a million more examples. I remember seeing some YouTube video where a trio of gross douchebros keep playing the same progression while singing a bunch of hits over it. I don’t like the smarmy way they do it, making it seem like artists are lazy and deliberately stealing. I don’t think it’s plagiarism to use this progression. And furthermore, tempo and production make all the difference. Take “This Magic Moment” for example. There's a version by Jay & the Americans and one by Ben E King & the Drifters. I’ve never been a fan of those shrieking violins or fiddles that open the latter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bacBKKgc4Uo The Jay & the Americans version puts the guitar riff way in the forefront, which I like a lot more. The guitar plays the entire progression once before the singing starts and the band joins in: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKfASw6qoag

Each version has its own distinctive feel. They are pretty much two different songs. Perhaps the most famous use of the Sleep Walk progression is “Unchained Melody” by the Righteous Brothers, which is one of my favourite songs ever. The guy who chose to let Bobby Hatfield sing this one by himself must have kicked himself afterwards when it became a hit, much bigger than "You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling."https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qiiyq2xrSI0

What can you say about “Unchained Melody” that hasn’t already been said? God, that miraculously strong vocal, the way the strings (and later on, brass horns) are panned way over to the furthest reaches the left speaker while the drums and guitar are way over in the right, with the singing smack dab in the middle creates a kind of distance and sharp clarity that has never been reproduced in popular music, like seeing the skyscrapers of some distant city after an endless stretch of highway. After listening to “Unchained Melody,” one has to wonder: can that progression ever be improved upon? Can any artist write something more haunting, more beautiful, more uplifting than that? The “need your love” crescendo hits so fucking hard, as both the emotional and the sonic climax of the song, which of course is no accident...the strings descending and crashing like a waterfall of sound, it gets me every fucking time. Legend has it that King George II was so moved by the “Hallelujah” section of Handel’s “Messiah” that he stood up, he couldn't help himself, couldn't believe what he was hearing. I get that feeling with all my favourite songs. "1979." "Unchained Melody." "In The Still of the Night." "Digital Bath." "Why Does My Heart Feel So Bad?" "Interstate." "Liar's Tale." “Gimme Shelter.” The list goes on and on. Music is supposed to move us.

King George II stood because he was moved to do so. Music may be our creation, but it isn't our subordinate. All those sci-fi stories warning about technology growing beyond our control aren’t that far-fetched. Music is our creation but its power lies beyond our control. We are subordinate to music, helpless against its power and might, its urgency and vitality and beauty. There have been many times in my life when I have been so obsessed with a particular song that I pretty much want to live inside of it forever. A house of sound. I remember detoxing from heroin and listening to Grimes “Realiti” on repeat for twelve hours. Detoxing from OxyContin and listening to The Beach Boys “Dont Worry Baby” over and over. Or just being young and listening to “Tonight Tonight” over and over and over, tears streaming from my eyes in that way you cry when you’re a kid because you just feel so much and you don’t know what to do with the intensity of those feelings. It is precisely because we are so moved by music that we keep creating it. And in the act of that creation we are free. There are no limits to that freedom, which is why bands time and time again return to the well-worn Sleep Walk chord progression and try to make something new from it. Back in 2006, soon after buying what was then the new Yeah Yeah Yeahs album, I found myself playing the album’s closing track over and over. I loved the chorus and I loved the way it collapses into a lo-fi demo at the very end, stripping away the studio sheen and...not to be too punny, showing its bones (the album title is Show Your Bones). Later on I would realize that the song, called “Turn Into,” uses the Sleep Walk chord progression. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exqCFoPiwpk

It’s just like, what Waits said, our hands goes to where we are familiar. And so do our ears, which is why jazz often sounds so unpleasant to us upon first listen. Or Captain Beefheart. But it’s worth the effort to discover new stuff, just as it’s worth the effort to try and write it. I recently lamented on this blog that music to me now is more about remembrance than discovery, but I’m still only 35 years old. I’m middle-aged right now (I don’t expect to live past 70, not with the lifestyle I’ve been living). There’s still a whole other half life to find new music and love and leave it for still newer stuff. It’s worth the challenge, that moment of inner resistance we feel when confronted with something new and challenging and strange sounding. The austere demands of adult life, rent and routine, take so much of our time. I still make time for creative pursuits, but I don’t really have much time for discovery, for seeking out new music. But I’ve resolved to start making more time. A few years ago I tried to listen to and like Trout Mask Replica but I couldn’t. I just didn’t get what was going on. It sounded like a bunch of mistakes piled on top of each other. But then a few days ago I was writing while listening to music, as I always do, and YouTube somehow landed on Lick My Decals Off, Baby. I didn’t love what I was hearing but I was intrigued enough to keep going. And now I really like this song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMnd9dvb3sA&pbjreload=101 Another example I’ll give is the rare Robert Pollard gem “Prom Is Coming.” The first time I heard this song, it sounded like someone who can’t play guitar messing around, but the more I heard it the more I realized there’s a song there. It’s weird and strange, but it’s there. The lyrics are classic Pollard: Disregard injury and race madly out of the universe by sundown. Pollard obviously has a special place in his heart for this track. He named one of his many record labels Prom Is Coming Records and he titled the Boston Spaceships best-of collection Out of the Universe By Sundown. I don’t know if I’ll ever become a Captain Beefheart megafan but I can hear that the man was doing something very strange and, at times, beautiful. And anyway, why should everything be easy? Aren’t some challenges worth meeting for the experience waiting on the other side of comprehension or acceptance? I try to remember this now whenever I’m first confronted with new music, instead of vetoing it right away. Most of my favourite bands I was initially resistant to when I first heard them. Queens of the Stone Age, Kyuss, Guided by Voices, Spoon, Heavy Times. All bands I didn’t like at first.  I don’t wanna sleepwalk through life, surrounding myself only with things I have already experienced. I need to stay awake. Because soon enough I’ll be asleep forever. We need to try everything we can before the Big Sleep comes to take us back to the great blankness, the terrible question mark that bookends our lives.

[excelsi-or]

15/11/19 - sick (woozi)

to a boy i love right now

w.c. 1k (fluff)

A/N: Happy Monday everyone~ I hope you’re all doing well. Typically, you don’t need to read the part before to understand the one you’re currently reading, but you kinda do for this one. It’s linked below. :D xx

Black Lives Support Rec: The podcast Sustainably Influenced (everywhere where you listen to podcasts). It’s a podcast hosted by two British black women: Bianca Foley & Charlotte Williams (follow their IG accounts, Bianca posts about midsized fashion & Charlotte posts about finance, accounting, and lifestyle from my understanding). They talk about ways to be more sustainable from fashion to periods to skincare and litter.

November 14, 2019

November 15, 2019

“Really? That’s it?” Mingyu demands when they meet up for lunch on campus.

She shrugs. “What was I supposed to do? Jihoon wouldn’t listen to me.” She twirls her chopsticks to get her instant ramen together.

Hansol snorts, popping a chip into his mouth. “I thought you’d haul him out of there.”

“That’s what I was hoping too,” Mingyu agrees, looking from Hansol and back to her. “All he said was that he’d try to be home this weekend.”

Her stomach churns at this information. The weekend is four days away. “Huh.” She shovels ramen into her mouth.

“Really, noona, please. You can’t be that petty,” Seungkwan argues.

She straightens up. “Look, guys, we all care about Jihoon, but the man is a workaholic. We got into a disagreement when I tried to get him to leave. He hasn’t texted me all day today. Let’s just leave it.”

“But you said that he said he can take care of himself,” Mingyu says.

“Because that is what he said.”

“But it’s obvious that he can’t.”

“Yes, I know.” Her eyes are sharp when she turns to Mingyu. “I didn’t leave him there, because I wanted to. But Ji will snap out of it when he starts to feel it.”

“Isn’t that… not what we, you know, want?” Hansol stammers.

She shakes her head. “Do I need to lay out my thinking for you?”

“Yes!” they exclaim, exasperated.

She sets her chopsticks down on the table and looks them all in the eye. “Jihoon is a grown man. If he says he can take care of himself, as his girlfriend, I’ll take his word for it. No point fighting a man who won’t listen.”

“Noona, I don’t—” Mingyu starts.

She holds a hand up. “I’m not saying that I don’t love him or that we’re breaking up or any of that petty stuff. I’m saying that Jihoon is going to have to learn to take care of himself and that a few late nights won’t kill him. He’ll be unwell, but he’ll bounce back.”

Mingyu’s eyes squint at her. “That’s weirdly manipulative but also sounds mature.”

She grumbles under her breath about exhausting boyfriends.

She decides that worrying is inevitable, but concedes to doing it his way. She texts Jihoon little reminders to eat and to drink water, and to make sure that he realizes the time she sends him a goodnight text. He responds in kind; short little messages to let her know that he’s reading them. None of his texts seem annoyed with her for checking in on him.

The weekend comes and her brain feels exhausted when she kicks her way into the apartment. Seungkwan is still on campus, but will be home by dinnertime. So it’s on her to sort it out. She looks through their fridge and pulls out all the vegetables and the little uncooked meat they have left. Both of them prefer to eat more meat, but student budgets only allow for so much.

There’s suddenly a knock at the door. Her mind reels as she walks towards it, wondering what her neighbours could possibly want. When she pulls it open though, it’s Jihoon.

She blinks in surprise. “You’re… here?”

Jihoon nods, slumping into her as a hug. She holds him up under the arms and waddles them inside. She closes the door behind him and he straightens up.

“You look like shit,” she states, kissing his cheek. Jihoon holds a bag out to her. It’s the canvas grocery bag that she’d bought him that she’d drilled into him to carry everywhere. Inside is meat and vegetables. In his other hand, he has a bouquet of white carnations.

She takes both from him and he leans forward to press a slow kiss to her forehead. Jihoon’s hands find her waist and he tugs her closer, his head resting against her shoulder. “Don’t say I told you so.”

She chuckles, pecking the side of his head closest to her. “I wasn’t going to. Go shower. I’ll cook dinner. Seungkwanie will be home in an hour.”

Jihoon straightens up again, his eyes drowsy. He always gets sleepy when he comes over. 

“Shower, go.” Lightly, she kicks his calf.

Yawning, Jihoon heads to the bathroom. She doesn’t move until she hears the water running. Quickly, she finds a home for the flowers and begins cooking the extra meat Jihoon had brought with him. As she’s cooking the vegetables, Jihoon reappears and takes a seat at one of their bar stools so he can watch her. His chin rests on his arms and he looks like a little kid trying not to fall asleep in class.

“You can go sleep if you want.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I’ll eat first.”

“Did you finish all the songs?”

“Yes.”

“Are they good?”

“I don’t know.” He yawns again. “I need you to listen to them.”

They’re quiet for a while, only the sound of the sizzling meat filling the room. He sniffles and she tosses him a clean dishcloth to blow his nose in. Then he rests his head back down, his nose red. 

“You were right,” he finally says.

“About?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he groans.

Chuckling, she stands across from him. She brushes a stray hair out of his face. “You can take care of yourself. I let you do it.”

“I should have gone home with you. I get it, jagi; I get it. Let’s just leave it at that.”

She rolls her eyes. “So now you’ll go home every night?”

“I’ll try to. I feel disgusting.”

“You’re still cute though.”

Jihoon scrunches his nose at that, hating the word and that she uses it with him. 

“Oh stop pouting,” she chuckles. She goes to the stove and takes a piece of meat for him to eat. Quickly, she holds it out to him and he eats it right from the chopsticks. Jihoon’s mouth falls open, a bit of steam escaping, as it’s still quite hot. He smiles contentedly, his eyes fluttering closed as he lies his head back down.

Next: December 3, 2019

[2-fast-2-curious]

‘Cause Good Ones Never Wait

I think he knows His hands around a cold glass Make me wanna know that Body like it's mine

Summary: Because we all know vacation Laurent is the best Laurent

Words: 1355

Warnings: Daddy Kink, smut

Requests:

Hello, hey hi! I just wanted to say THANKS FOR THE LAURENT STUFF omg there is literally nothing on him here and I’m SO DAMN THIRSTY!! Can I request something along the lines of morning sex or sleepy sex??? Thanks love!

OMG PLEASE GIVE ME MORE BROSSOIT!!! Like literally anything lol.

You were lying on your tummy, soft snores coming from your mouth as you snuggled further into the blankets, a slight smile on your face as you dreamed about Laurent. You weren’t quite sure why you bothered sleeping when your reality was even better. You and your boyfriend were on vacation, your home for the week was a beautiful villa on the edge of a cliff, overlooking the Adriatic sea. Last night had exhausted you, you and Laurent had made love outdoors while watching the moonlight dance on the water. The two of you had fallen asleep on the cabana by the pool, your skin still damp. Sometime during the night, Laurent must’ve gone inside and brought blankets and pillows from the living room based on the plushness that surrounded you.

Speaking of Laurent, he was currently sitting on top of the covers giving you kisses on the side of your face, it kind of tickled and you shifted a bit. One of his large hands went to palm your butt and keep you in place.

"Mmm?" You replied slightly groggily. 

"Sorry babe, did I wake you?" He asked, pressing himself against you through the blankets. You were both naked from last night and you could feel his erection through the blankets.

You wiggled your butt, grinding yourself against him. “Yeah, but I’ll allow it. What does daddy want?”

Laurent groaned at your pet name for him, pulling the blanket off your bottom, leaving your core fully exposed to the cool morning air. A single digit parted your folds and you could hear his chest hum in appreciation when he felt how wet you were. His digits rubbed you, your wetness audible. “You’re dripping princess, such a good girl, did you make yourself wet thinking about daddy’s cock in your sleep?”

You let out a noise that was a cross between a mew and a moan. You knew if you were going to get what you needed, you had to use your words. “Oh daddy, I got so wet thinking about last night. Thinking about how you ate my pussy last night.” 

You signed, thinking back to how Laurent was in the pool while you sat on the edge, your legs spread as his strong tongue massaged your pussy. His strong arms were initially keeping your cunt pressed to his lips but they ended up supporting you and keeping you upright as your body went limp due to his actions. When he was finally finished, you had lost count of how many times you had come. Laurent had to lift you off the pool deck and onto his cock as he carried you to the cabana. Your weak body ended up riding him until he finished inside of you.

Recalling last night only made you wetter, as you felt his fingers stretch your entrance you wondered if he could feel last night’s cum with his fingers. “Looks like you’re ready for daddy’s cock, wouldn’t you say babygirl?”

“Yes, daddy.” You gasped as the rest of the covers are thrown off of you. Laurent’s hands reached down your sides and caressed the sides of your breasts causing you to shiver. He grabbed your thighs and spread them as wide as they would go, giving a swat to both of your jiggling ass cheeks. He kneeled between them, positioning his hard length between your dripping slit. You moaned you felt that familiar stretch that left you gasping for air, he was deep. 

If you were at home with neighbours, you might have bit into a pillow to muffle your noises but you didn’t have to worry about this at the villa. His hands were on your hip bones, guiding your silky walls on his cock, drilling into you in a way that found that well-hidden spongy spot inside of your canal. Your bottom half was slightly elevated, due to resting on his thighs and Laurent used that to his advantage, bringing one of his hands to your stomach, near your belly button.

“Do you feel how deep daddy is, princess?” Laurent growled into your ear.

“Oh...oh, so deep.” You replied through the sounds of his hips against your butt.

“I think baby’s gonna cum soon, hmm?” Laurent’s hand left your stomach to travel lower, pushing past your mound to circle your swollen clit. “Do you want daddy to cum with you.”

“Yes, daddy! Please, I want you to cum with me. Fill me with your hot cum.” You felt absolutely euphoric as Laurent continued fucking you into the cabana bed. Your whole body was shaking including your legs but having Laurent’s hips between them kept them spread as he pumped his release into you. Laurent kissed your shoulder blades and across your back as he softened inside you.

Your boyfriend helped you inside and brought you a fresh change of clothes as you cleaned yourself up in the bathroom. Despite the beautiful kitchen you saw on Airbnb, you and Laurent really hadn't made much use of it. Except when he wanted to fuck you on the countertop. Your vacation diet was mostly whatever the small cafe in the village served that day. 

You scolded yourself when you felt your panties dampen after seeing Laurent wearing a shirt that showed off his tattoos. You were seriously running low on clean panties. He wrapped his tattooed arm around you as you guys walked down the meandering stone steps to the village. It was partially to be romantic but mostly for safety, the steps were rustic and kind of dangerous but that just added to the charm of being tourists.

Your brunch today was fresh-caught octopus with grilled vegetables and a loaf of bread washed down with some coffee.

"I was thinking we could fish today." Laurent said as he paid the bill.

You and Laurent had rented a boat as part of your vacation for day trips to other nearby islands but you were skeptical. This was the first time you had ever heard him mention anything about fishing in all your years of dating him.

"You mean you could fish." You told him, luckily for you, you had picked up tons of magazines to read during your layover at the airport.

Laurent chuckled. "Yes, I'll fish. We'll be back by late afternoon so we can pick up groceries to go with what we caught."

You were still unconvinced but you and Laurent walked to the marina anyway. "What if you don't catch anything?"

"Then we'll go back to that place we went to the other day with that polenta dish you liked." Laurent helped you into the boat and started the boat.

You watched as the people along the shore got smaller and smaller until the entire island was nothing but a dot on the horizon.

Laurent finally decided that this was the spot and lowered the line into the water. You sat on Laurent lap and read magazines with him. He actually seemed kind of nervous, wasn’t fishing supposed to be relaxing?

Laurent must’ve decided that he needed a new strategy if he was going to catch anything.

"Babe, can you grab me a new hook." He asked, trying to pretend his hand wasn’t tangled up in fish line.

You opened the tackle box and shifted through the hooks, careful not to poke yourself. All of a sudden something sparkly caught your eye, you pulled it out, laying it against your palm.

Laurent picked up the ring from your hand and got down on one knee, the ring looked absolutely doll-sized in his giant hands. "Y/N, will you marry me?" 

“Yes, yes, yes!” You pounced on Laurent, the boat rocking slightly from the force.

Laurent slipped the ring onto your finger. It was perfect. Every time a teammate or friend got engaged, he always asked you what you thought of the ring. The ring on your finger was a perfect amalgamation of every one of those discussions. You twisted your hand, admiring how it looked in different light.  “I don’t know if I will like calling you daddy or husband better.”

[tran5rightsos]

Forget Your Feet and Where They Fall

Summary: Awsten hangs out with his friends Ashton and Luke and ponders the nature of the universe.

Tags and Warnings: Capitalism, Body Horror, Outer Space, Angst, Brain Damage

Word Count: 1602

Leave Kudos?

“Hey, Luke,” Awsten called as he approached the airlock.

Luke started, as if Awsten had broken him out of deep thought, and turned his head so that he could see him with his right eye. He’d lost his left and a degree of put-togetherness years ago, the scar running from his lip to his eyebrow hinting at what had happened to it. If you looked at the scar from the right angle, it was perfectly straight.

“Awsten!” Luke grinned and stood. “Going out?”

“Nah, I just finished up at the drills. I got you something,” Awsten told him, digging through his pocket. He pulled out a piece of stable dranix and handed it to Luke. “It’s waste from the engines,” he explained.

Luke turned the glassy substance over in his fingers, transfixed by the rainbows glittering within. It looked much cooler in bright light, but the lights along this hallway were kept low to minimise Luke’s headaches and prevent seizures.

“Woah. Why is it small?”

“One of the waste coolers was leaking and some cooled on the floor,” Awsten explained, “Ashton’s fixing it now.”

Luke grinned. “Ashton’s good at fixing engines.”

“Yeah, he is.”

A buzz sounded over the speaker above the door and Luke pocketed the stable pranix. Once his gloves were on, he gripped the lever for the outer door and pulled it closed for whoever was waiting, muscles straining with the effort. People could say what they wanted about Luke being deadweight, having someone whose only job was to open the airlocks was a fucking gift. On most vessels Awsten had worked on, you’d have to wait like half an hour for someone to become available to do it. On one vessel, the airlocks would only be opened every six hours for shift changes. Awsten shuddered at the memory.

Luke flooded the airlock with oxygen and opened the inner door, allowing Otto to step inside as he took off his helmet and shook out his hair.

“Hey Otto,” Luke greeted, flopping to the floor with a huff.

“Hey,” Otto returned as he set off to wherever the fuck he was going.

In a way, he and Luke had the perfect friendship. Otto was bad at being friendly and Luke was bad at telling when people were coming off as unfriendly, happy with just getting brief hellos from anyone who passed.

“You wanna go to the bridge when your shift ends?” Awsten offered when Otto was gone.

Luke looked confused, probably needing a moment to switch from door-opening mode to conversation mode. “Why?”

“The stars are really pretty from this asteroid. We can see them if we go to the bridge.”

Luke’s face lit up. “Can Ashton come?”

“Sure.”

Luke and Ashton were both at least five years older than Awsten, but they’d been cryofrozen partway through a mission when an attack on the vessel they were working on had left them grievously wounded, Ashton by a cleaver through his wrist and Luke by a saw to the face. They were a package deal when it came to employment as Ashton refused to take any job that wouldn’t allow Luke to go with him. Most people would never bother to take on someone who could barely walk without getting dizzy, but Ashton was hard-working and a genius with dranix engines and he made it worth allowing Luke to tag along.

Awsten had been skeptical of their arrangement at first, wondering why Ashton would bother working to support them both when he could just drop Luke off at some station or outpost and set his sights on retiring before his body broke down and left him penniless. Luke was talkative, though, and Awsten quickly got the impression that Ashton likely blamed himself for Luke’s “brain getting sawed in half,” as Luke had put it with a big, crooked smile.

When it came to reattaching Ashton’s severed hand, something had to be said for the miracle of modern medicine, but, even with all the implants they’d put in to alleviate symptoms, Luke just hadn’t been as lucky. Sure, being friendly and optimistic was nice, but it didn’t buy food.

Usefulness aside, Awsten had to admit that Luke had grown on him in the past months. It was nice to have someone on board who was always excited to see him and Awsten had learned that they could have some pretty good conversations if he didn’t change the subject too quickly.

Ashton showed up a few minutes later, sweaty, grimy and somehow making his short-sleeved utility jumpsuit, welding goggles and boots look almost sexy. In another life, he probably would have been a model. Luke too, now that Awsten thought about it. They were pretty attractive men.

“How are the engines?” Awsten asked conversationally.

Ashton shrugged as he took off his goggles. “They’re shit.” He always said that and Luke always laughed. “The artificial gravity might fuck itself up tomorrow, so watch out.”

“We’re going up to the bridge to look at the stars,” Awsten told him, “You wanna come?”

Luke looked between them, eye gleaming. “Really? Can I come?”

Awsten pat his shoulder and gave him a tight smile. “Yeah, of course!”

Ashton looked like he wanted nothing more than to pass out in his bunk, but he nodded. “Sure.”

While docked at asteroids, Captain Hand liked to keep the doors to the bridge open so that crew members could come and go whenever they needed anything from him. Awsten liked that he was a lot more laid back than other captains he’d had, never demanding appointments and shit.

“Hi, Captain!” Luke said as they entered, thrilled to see him even though a moment earlier he’d looked like he was about to throw up from the dizziness of walking here.

“Hey, Luke,” Lucas returned, “What are you guys doing up here?”

“Just looking at the stars,” Awsten told him as Ashton led Luke to a seat.

Luke gazed up through the windows in wonder, already a million miles away from the bridge, the asteroid, the endless struggle to survive. Awsten wished he could do that too, just look at something pretty and forget that the universe was cruel and life was agony. Maybe Luke’s inability to focus on more than one thing at a time was actually his greatest gift, an art form everyone else could only dream of.

Unfortunately, even Luke couldn’t remain at peace for long. After a few minutes of silent staring, he grimaced and rubbed his head.

“You okay?” Lucas asked worriedly.

“Head hurts,” Luke mumbled.

“C’mon,” Ashton prompted, heaving himself up from his seat, “Let’s get you showered and lay down, yeah?”

Luke nodded and allowed himself to be helped up and led out of the bridge, less balanced on his feet than he’d been a few minutes ago, though he still smiled through the pain at everyone they passed. Maybe he was onto something there.

Awsten shook his head. Luke Hemmings had the secret to the universe figured out and he didn’t even know it.

“Lazy dumbass,” someone muttered in response to one of Luke’s greetings, not even looking back as they turned down a corridor.

Luke’s face fell as he stopped and looked where the guy had disappeared. “I’m not dumb,” he said softly, “It just takes me a while to think.”

“Hey, he’s just an asshole,” Awsten assured him, “He’s bitter ‘cause you’re prettier than him and you have a badass scar.”

“I used to be good at fixing stuff,” Luke told him sadly, “It’s not my fault I can’t do it fast enough anymore.”

“I know,” Ashton murmured as he nudged him to keep walking, clearly convinced that it was his own fault.

Awsten frowned. It wasn’t right for Ashton to silently punish himself for what those pirates did.

“Where do you wanna live one day?” Awsten asked Luke, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Huh? Oh.” Luke thought hard. “Maybe Venus?”

“That sounds cool. Living underground. Maybe you could get a cool Venusian girlfriend who doesn’t know what the sun is.”

“I’m gay.”

“Boyfriend, then.”

Luke looked dreamy. “Yeah.” He nudged Ashton. “We could be neighbours!”

Ashton smiled at him. “That’d be cool.”

It was a nice fantasy. Awsten looked at his hands, at the dirt that he could never get out no matter how hard he tried. Maybe one day it would mean something, the years of sweat and pain. For now he could just fantasise, imagine all the lives he wished he could have and hope that he was heading towards one of them.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

#5yrsago In the Interests of Safety: using evidence to beat back security theater

"Health and Safety" is the all-purpose excuse for any stupid, bureaucratic, humiliating rubbish that officialdom wants to shove down our throats. In the Interests of Safety, from Tracey Brown and Michael Hanlon, is the antidote: an expert dismantling of bad risk-analysis and a call-to-arms to do something about it, fighting superstition and silliness with evidence.

"Health and safety" is one of those mind-viruses that colonizes people and organizations. From airport security patdowns to lockdown drills at schools, every corner of our modern world has been colonized by the safety virus. And the inconvenience and frustration of dealing with bogus security theater are just the beginning: the real cost is in the disordering of our ability to assess and address real risk. Every time a lazy manager invents a "health and safety" rule to stifle dissent of his own autocratic initiatives, he discredits the whole idea of safety regulation, many of which are not only sensible, but vital.

For years, the campaigning group Sense About Science has run its Ask For Evidence campaign through which the general public are trained to ask for and assess the evidence-basis for the policies they are expected to follow. Through long experience, Tracey Brown -- SAS's Director -- has mapped out the culture of buck-passing risk-aversion and found its soft spots, and in In the Interests of Safety she and science writer Michael Hanlon give us a guided tour of the dumbest things done in the name of safety, as well as the smartest, and, most importantly, give us a toolkit for telling the difference and effecting real change.

For example, there's a notorious story about a Transport for London manager who told the cleaning staff that they weren't allowed to wear wooly hats to keep warm while cleaning frigid train platforms, saying that official health and safety rules prohibited the practice, since the hats might impair the cleaners' hearing and put them at risk of stepping into the path of a train. Anyone hearing this (true) story would likely assume that health and safety is run by dunderheads and jobsworths. But no such health and safety rule exists -- no such rule ever existed. That's because the UK Health and Safety Executive are remarkably sensible about things like this -- they, more than anyone, are frustrated by this sort of story, in which a manager just decided, autocratically, to tell his staff what kind of hats he thought they should wear and, when challenged, fell back on the often-unassailable "health and safety" excuse. This kind of thing discredits the real, good work of evidence-based safety measures that genuinely reduce mortality and improve the quality of life.

This kind of health-and-safety stuff is unbelievably common in modern society, whether it's my daughter's daycare who wouldn't let us take pictures of her school play for "health and safety"; or the Costa Coffee stall at London's Excel Centre where the manager said they wouldn't warm up cream for my coffee for "health and safety" reasons; or the security manager at Luton airport who told me that plugging in my laptop was prohibited lest it cause an electrical fault that made the airport burst into flame (he explained that the electrical adapters for sale in the airport, whose floor models were plugged in 24/7, were somehow safer, and that I could plug in my laptop only if I bought a new adapter every time I entered the terminal and kept the receipt to show to him).

Brown and Hanlon draw on the existing literature -- books like Schneier's Beyond Fear and Skenazy's Free-Range Kids -- explaining how to sensibly assess risks and trade-offs (for example, if you make air travel less convenient for "safety," you increase the number of miles driven and the number of road fatalities -- in the two years after 9/11, another WTC's worth of traffic fatalities were attributable to people who drove rather than flew).

To this, they add their own favourite stories of loony risk-culture. For example, local authorities across Britain spent millions on the tombstone toppling project through which thousands of graves were desecrated in the name of hunting down unsafe monuments, without any evidence basis; another example is the Right to Swim campaign, in response to the evidence-free, widely adopted rule that insisted on a 1:1 adult:child ratio in public pools, which effectively ended any kind of swim training for twins and families with more than one kid around the same age.

But the authors go beyond pointing out how silly these rules were from an evidentiary basis: they also pay close attention to the various excuses given for the policies. For example, Zurich, who insure the majority of the local councils that attacked their ancient graveyards, never threatened to raise premiums for councils unless they did so -- in fact, they asked councils to stop! And in the case of the pools, the policy was adopted -- and often cited as a law -- even though it was just a recommendation from an industry body (and when that body was challenged to show its research, it turned out that it had none -- indeed, there had been zero accidental drownings of under-eights in public pools in recent history).

Most importantly, Brown and Hanlon focus on the people who've fought back against this silliness and won, showing how online activism, a cool head, and the right kinds of tactics can enlist neighbours, the press, and regulators to bring these dumb ideas to a halt. And they lay out a programme for future fights that emphasises preserving useful safety measures and helping to educate authorities on the way that they can put their energies into the things that matter and make real change. For example, 40 percent of aviation crash fatalities are preventable through use of emergency exits. But the information about your nearest exit -- something that makes an enormous difference to your chances of surviving a crash -- is mixed in with a bunch of effectively useless stuff about using escape rafts and not using the wrong toilet.

From Data Protection to maternity advice to aviation, In the Interests of Safety is a handbook for taking back the discussion of safety from the petty bureaucrats and their culture of risk-averse fear, and for making policy responsive to evidence. This is an essential book, a tonic against the travails of modern life.

In the Interests of Safety: The absurd rules that blight our lives and how we can change them

https://boingboing.net/2014/09/08/in-the-interests-of-safety-us.html

[razieltwelve]

Thin (Final Rose)

“So… what do you think?” Blake asked Diana.

The dark-haired woman pressed her head against the wall and gave it a sharp knock before she eased back and stared at it. “Hmm… it’s a standard apartment wall. There’s nothing remarkable about it.” Her brows furrowed. “I’ve also had a look at it using a variety of different genetic templates ranging from radar and sonar to infrared and x-ray. There really isn’t anything weird about it at all.”

“I see.” Blake made a face. “Could you… make it more soundproof?”

Diana tilted her head to one side. “And why would you need it more soundproof?”

The Faunus looked away. “I may have received an anonymous note from one of my neighbours about, ahem, certain activities being especially loud at certain times of the, um, night.”

“So basically you’ve been having really noisy sex and the neighbours complained?” Diana grinned. “Was it Yang, Neo, Winter, or all three of them at once?”

“Well…”

“So all of the above them.” Diana cackled. “You guys really need to just buy a house or something. Thin walls are pretty common even in more expensive apartments. It’s just how things are done.”

“So you can’t do anything?” Blake asked. “We’ve been thinking of buying a house, but we haven’t found enough free time in our schedules for all of us to go look together.”

“Well… there are a couple of options.” Diana tapped her scroll and images began to appear above it. “The easiest one would be a silence emitter. It’s basically a device that nullifies sounds in a given area. However, they’re really most effective at stopping the movement of sound through air, and your problem is mostly caused by sound travelling through the walls, floor, and ceiling.”

“What else is there?”

Diana tapped her scroll again. “I could have you get all of your stuff out of the way for a couple of hours while I spray the place down with a specially developed coating that massively reduces the ability of sound to propagate through it. You could probably stab someone to death and nobody would be any the wiser.”

“Do I want to know why you’ve got that?”

“Meh. It’s perfect for interrogation rooms, which is what it was originally designed for. Oh, and it’s also been used to coat the walls of tunnels to reduce the noise they make.”

“I’m assuming there’s a catch?”

“I’m not saying it’ll poison you, but there’s a reason we don’t use it everywhere. It’s basically safe so long as you’re not spending hours at a time near it everyday, which is why we can use it on tunnels. Unfortunately, though, you will be spending hours at a time near it everyday if I coat your apartment with it.”

“Okay… next option.”

“Have you considered not having sex in your apartment or maybe having quieter sex?” The vicious glare Blake gave Diana was answer enough. “I see. Option number three is that I drill holes in the walls, floor, and ceiling and fill them with a special material that will absolutely absorb any sounds that a human or Faunus can make.”

“You can do that?”

“If your walls were solid brick, I wouldn’t be able to, but there’s more than enough airspace for it to work.”

“And what would the drawbacks be?”

“I’m going to have to put holes in the walls, floor, and ceiling. I may also have to rip open a few things to make sure the coverage goes all the way around. Other than that, though, it should do everything you need without any other significant drawbacks. I mean… your apartment will smell like plastic for a day, but that’s about it.”

“How long would it take for you to do?”

Diana gave the wall another tap. “With walls like this? Maybe half a day? To be honest, though, I wouldn’t be doing it myself. This kind of thing is minion work. It’s fairly straightforward, and the process has already been refined enough for any Level 2 or 3 minion to do it fairly easily.”

“Can’t you do it?” Blake asked. “I’d rather people not know that… you know…”

“Blake, if it makes you feel better, I can tell them that we’re putting in soundproofing because you like to murder people in your apartment. Believe me, the minions are not going to ask questions. We don’t have to say a word about you having crazy, noisy sex in your apartment.”

“…” Blake sighed. “Can you please just do it?”

"Blake, it’s really not that big a deal. It’s like going to the doctor. There’s no need to feel embarrassed when talking to your doctor, and there’s no need to be embarrassed when talking to the people doing the soundproofing. If it makes you feel any better, I will personally consider which minions I send to do the job.”

“Fine.”

X     X     X

The two young women that Diana sent to handle the job were easily the most… well… average people that Blake had ever seen. She honestly wouldn’t have been able to pick them out of a crowd, no matter how hard she tried, and she couldn’t help but feel that this might not even be the first time they’d met.

“Don’t worry about it,” one of the women said. “Everybody has a hard time remembering us.”

“It’s one of the reasons the boss hired us.” The other woman grinned. “We’re what you might call forgettable, which makes us perfect for infiltration and for doing jobs that people feel a bit uncomfortable with. We show up, do the job, and then people forget about us.”

“Well, not the boss,” the first woman said. “She never had any problems remembering us.”

“The boss is special. She never forgets anybody.”

“I guess.” The woman grinned. It was a very average sort of grin. “But that’s one of the benefits of being a minion. You’re not on your own. There are people who nobody forgets, and they have a part to play, same as we do. But we all work together, and we all get a nice slice of the pie when we’re done.”

“So… uh… do you know what to do?”

“Don’t worry, the boss already filled us in. Just go shopping or something. We’ll have this done by this afternoon. Just remember to leave all of the windows open, and you should be fine.”

“You’re a Faunus, right?” the other woman asked. “Here.” She handed Blake a modified surgical mask. “It’s designed to filter out the particles that make everything smell like plastic. You can wear it tonight and maybe tomorrow morning. The smell should be gone after that.”

“Thanks…” Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Wait… I think I know where I’ve seen you before?”

“Oh?”

“You helped Ruby and Weiss with their new shower.”

“Heh. Not bad. Both of us are really more into domestic and commercial construction. Just about anything you might want to do to a house or apartment, we can do. But death rays and satellites? Nah. The boss has other people who deal with that.” She handed Blake a card. “Here.”

Blake read the card. Building Blocks Construction. “Wait… Diana owns Building Blocks Construction? Isn’t that one of the largest construction companies in the world?”

“Boss owns a lot of things, you just don’t know about them.” One of the women smirked. “There are all sorts of laws around that are supposed to stop companies growing too big and powerful, but there aren’t many people better than the boss at finding loopholes. Have enough shell companies and corporate trusts, and nobody can work out who owns what without already knowing. She even owns Dynamic Development, which is supposed to be one of Building Block Construction’s biggest competitors. She hasn’t even told the executives of either company that they’re basically on the same side. She thinks it’ll make them perform better.”

“In fairness,” the other woman said. “Performance measures are up by 15% year over year for both companies.”

“But you two know?” Blake asked.

“Well, we’ve been with the boss since she was a teenager. She trusts us. We’re Level 5 minions, so she knows that we’re trustworthy. It’s not like you’ll tell anyone.”

Blake had to concede the point. “Is that why she sent you because you’re Level 5s?”

“Yep. A Level 2 or 3 could do the job, but they might get curious about you or what this is all for. Not us. We trust the boss’s judgement, and we know when to ask questions and when to keep our mouths shut. If you want to soundproof for your apartment, we’re not going to ask why. We’re just going to get it installed and then ask if maybe you’d consider us when you finally decided to build a new house because you can’t find a house that suits your… circumstances.”

“And what would you know about my circumstances?” Blake growled.

“Hey, easy. The boss keeps tabs on all her friends. She likes to get ahead of any potential problems. Based on your… situation… there isn’t a house within a hundred and fifty miles of here that meets your needs. However, there are several properties large enough for us to build a house that suits your needs. It’s not like money is going to be an issue, and who better to build a house through than the boss? Huntresses take home security very seriously, and we know how to build houses that can stand up to everything short of the apocalypse.”

“And what if there is an apocalypse?”

“Well, we could put in an underground bunker. The boss has several cutting edge designs that are perfect for home use. You can ride out the end of the world in comfort and style.”

“…” Blake took a deep breath. “Maybe I will take you up on that. I’ll be back this evening.”

“Have fun,” the two women said together.

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Poor Blake. At least, she won’t have to worry anymore. As for Diana, she’s an expert at skirting the rules but staying on the legal side of things. She has her fingers in all sorts of pies, and she has quietly put together a truly imposing business empire. The most hilarious thing is that a lot of people don’t realise that Diana is one of the co-owners of Dia Technologies, and that Dia Technologies is far, far larger than anyone truly realises since it is, for all intents and purposes, a conglomerate combining all of the businesses that Vanille (and her kids) and Diana (and her kids) eventually amass.

You can find me on fanfiction.net, AO3, and Amazon.

Definitely check out my Amazon stuff if you enjoy my sense of humour.

[nyctolovian]

It’s Pride, ya dingus!

“Allow me clarify this,” Nahyuta said, holding his hand up. “You met Prosecutor Gavin during investigations with no idea of who he is, had several cases with him, went out with him multiple times on what you now realise are dates—”

“Might be!” Apollo loudly corrected. His face heated up quickly as he slid off the sofa and onto the floor, pressing a Pokémon cushion to his face. He added in a mumble, “Almost dates, I mean.”

The sight was not too unlike what Apollo would do when he was younger and caught in something embarrassing. Nahyuta repeated, “What might be almost dates, and then realised you were six feet deep in love with him when you once woke up drunk on his sofa. Is that right?”

“You know,” Apollo said, forming air quotes, “I think ‘six feet deep in love’ is a bit of a stretch.”

“I will treat that as a confirmation,” Nahyuta said dismissively, earning himself a Pokémon cushion to the face. Snickering, he sent the Swellow flying back at his brother. “You are such a brat,” he huffed. “But, at least that clarifies some things. When you first said that you had feelings for Prosecutor Gavin, I hadn’t considered that you had developed said feelings while interacting with him in real life.”

“What do you mean?” Apollo narrowed his eyes at Nahyuta.

“What I meant to say is that I assumed you might have been one of those fans to his music.”

Wrinkling his nose, he replied, “Have you heard his stuff? It’s migraine-inducing.”

The soft sigh of relief did not go unnoticed. Perhaps Apollo wasn’t the only person in the world who had strong opinions about Klavier’s music.

Nahyuta fiddled with the beads between his fingers. “I suppose this means we can rule celebrity crush entirely out of the list.”

“Even if I had a celebrity crush, it’s not going to be Klavier Gavin.”

Somewhere in Japanifornia, a rock star may have let out a sneeze.

“Actually,” Apollo mused aloud, pressing his finger to the center of his forehead, “what makes it so hard for me to figure things out is kind of because I’ve never had a celebrity crush. Isn’t it pretty common to figure out things out that way? ‘I know I swing whichever way because I thought so-and-so celebrity is hot.’ Right?”

Nahyuta hummed. “I suppose so, yes. That was partly how I found out I was pansexual as well.”

Apollo groaned. “Meanwhile, I’m stuck here with Prosecutor Gavin as my only lead.”

“You are making this sound like a case.”

“Well, it sure feels like it. The case of Apollo’s missing sexuality. It’s been missing for 24 years, I heard.“

“Missing?” Nahyuta laughed. “Well, I’m sure we can find it, Detective.”

***

“Borrowing the speech mannerisms of your country, I must say: I’d tap that.”

Apollo didn’t bother shooting him the withering glare again. It was clear that any signs of exasperation merely fueled Nahyuta to annoy him further. However, feeling the insistent expectant look from his brother on the back of his head, he relented and sighed, “Pass.”

Nahyuta swiped his finger across his phone screen. “What about her?”

Between a yawn, he said, “I’m serious when I say I don’t have a type, and I don’t find anyone hot. We’ve been doing this for a shit ton of people.”

“Language!”

“I’m an adult. I can swear however the fuck and whenever the fuck I want in my own fucking house.”

Nahyuta sighed and shook his head. “Now you are simply using that putrid language just to annoy me. Pray tell then, Apollo, do you kiss Prosecutor Gavin with that filthy mouth?”

“... Shut up.”

Eyes lighting up, Nahyuta typed into his phone and pushed it towards Apollo. “How about this? Surely you find attraction to him.”

On the screen was a quick search for “Klavier Gavin”. The result was a collage of pictures of said man in various states of undress and with hair that ranged from the usual drill to professionally tousled. Apollo shook his head.

“Satorha!”

“Did you just–”

“How could you possibly not find him attractive? Don’t you have feelings for him? If that were the case, how could you not find him... in any form or manner enticing?”

“Entici–“ Apollo huffed. “I mean, he looks good. But I wouldn’t call him ‘enticing’ or ‘hot’ or whatever.”

“I must ask. Do you know the definition of the English word ‘hot’?”

“Yes! I’m not a dumbass, Nahyuta!” Apollo shouted. He whipped out his own phone and did a quick search. “So, for the record, there has been absolute no one who has been able to do any of this.”

“Urban Dictionary? Really?”

Apollo sputtered, “It was the most direct with the definitions, okay? How the hell am I supposed to know what dictionary dot com means by ‘sexually attractive’.”

A smirk stretched Nahyuta’s lips in the most irritating way possible. Apollo could almost hear the murmurs of the peanut gallery that tend to accompany the sinking feeling of saying something stupid in court.

“Look, I needed to know what my college friends were talking about, and it frustrated me when I couldn’t keep up. So I did my research,” he snapped. “Now shut up!”

Despite the huff that hinted that he still had a lot more to say about this matter, Nahyuta let his pitiful flushing brother off the hook and scanned through the words on the screen instead. “None of this? At all?” he asked.

After a rapid mental check off through the list for the nth time, Apollo pulled back. “Yeah.” He slumped back, hugging Swellow to his chest. “None of it. I mean, I know what sexy and beautiful and handsome is. But it’s on a surface level.”

Gently, Nahyuta cocked his head.

“It’s like,” Apollo pouted and pressed his finger to the space between his brow, “if you looked at a music score and saw all the complicated music notes and said it’s hard. You don’t really get how it’s hard because you don’t even know how to read scores, but you know it is probably difficult.”

“I see. So this is similar to what you feel about the concept of hotness?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that makes things difficult.”

“Thank you for finally seeing my problem!” Apollo groaned, throwing his head back.

“Then, is our starting point Prosecutor Gavin once again?”

“Unfortunately, yup.” Apollo straightened up and frowned. “Alright, maybe I’m gay, and I’m just making everything overly complicated!” He was silent for a moment, then, crumbled when he couldn’t convince himself. “I don’t know!” he yelled, clutching the Swellow cushion closer to himself.

“Let us take this step by step. Am I right when I say that you’ve only ever fancied men?”

Apollo flailed his arms in frustration before settling on, “Technically yes!”

“Technically?“

“It could also be someone who isn’t a man.”

Loudly, Nahyuta sighed. “Have you ever fancied anyone who isn’t a man?”

A soft “no” slipped through pouting lips.

“Then, this is mere conjecture.”

Apollo struggled to find the words and fiddled with his bracelet. “But it doesn’t click.”

A long pause. “I am afraid you’ve lost me.”

Apollo chewed his lip. The bracelet was starting to rub his skin red as he spoke, “Because if you’re heterosexual, you like people of the opposite gender. And if you’re homosexual, you like people of the same gender. It’s plural.”

Frustration was seeping into Nahyuta’s voice. “Whatever do you mean?”

“People is plural! If I were gay, I’d like men, right? Plural men, right? But I don’t!”

“But you said you’ve only ever fancied men.”

“One man! Singular! I’ve never liked anyone like this. All weird and embarrassing.” Like a car doomed to crash, he couldn’t stop. “It doesn’t feel right to call myself gay because I don’t like men. Men is plural! It means I’ve looked at other men and was attracted to them! But I’ve only ever liked Klavier Gavin!” Then, his face burst with heat at the realisation of the words that just left his mouth, and he buried his face in the Swellow cushion. “You didn’t hear any of that.”

The doorbell rang.

“Shit,” he breathed. He scrambled clumsily to his feet, still clinging to his cushion, as he opened the door. It was his neighbour.

“Hey, kid,” the middle-aged woman said, rubbing his eyes. “Could you keep your gay crisis to an acceptable volume?”

By some miracle, Apollo felt warmer still as his mouth opened and closed like that of a goldfish, and not a very bright one at that. He floundered about but the woman didn’t wait for him to regain composure.

“Look, puberty is rough and we all love Klavier Gavin, but it’s very late. Some of us are trying to sleep here, alright?” She yawned and spun around. “G’night, kid. Quit screaming.”

With that, she went back to her flat before she could even hear Nahyuta’s wheezing chuckles and Apollo’s pathetic whine, “But I’m twenty-four this year.”

***

“Okay,” Apollo said, actively keeping his volume lowered. “So far, I could be,” he listed off on his fingers, “depressed, taking libido-inhibiting meds, tied down by previous relationships, a late bloomer, or setting my expectations too high.”

“Are you depressed?” Nahyuta asked without looking up from his sudoku game.

“I don’t have the other symptoms.”

“Are you taking any libido-inhibiting medication?”

”Unless someone’s been slipping me pills while I’m asleep, I’m not on any medication. And if we’re going down the entire list, I’ve never been in a relationship; I’d be one hell of a late bloomer if I were one; and I’m not even setting any expectations.” Apollo swiped to the next page. “Huh, this is new. So there is this word. Asexuality.”

Nahyuta quirked an eyebrow. “Asexuality? As in a lack of sexuality? I think I have heard of the word before. I never bothered to look into it, however, since it did not concern me at the time.”

Apollo typed the word in the search bar. “Asexuality is the lack of sexual attraction to others, or low or absent interest in or desire for sexual activity,” he read aloud.

“So do you experience this lack of sexual attraction to others?”

“If that explains why on earth I can’t seem to understand what ‘hot’ even means,” Apollo muttered as he opened Wikipedia.

He scrolled through it silently and moved on to different sites while Nahyuta continued to solve the Sudoku puzzle beside him.

At the third Sudoku puzzle, Apollo spoke, “So apparently, people are still unsure if this is a real sexuality. Some people say it’s a disorder and a dysfunction of sorts.”

When Nahyuta stuck out his hand, Apollo gave the phone to him. “Well, there always seem to be people who have something to say about the validity of almost every other sexuality. Homophobes, biphobes, or transphobes for instance.”

That drew a shrug from Apollo. “And, it’s also a spectrum... It varies from person to person and moment to moment for some. Aroflux... demi... gray... Oh, and some people have differing sexual and romantic orientations too. Like aro ace? Pan ace? Gay ace? Damn, it’s basically a mix and match.”

“But do you find that asexuality applies to you though?”

Did it? Apollo asked himself. While reading the experiences that asexual people had shared to the web, he found himself nodding along. He had let out a few huffs of laughter at the humorously recounted incidents of confusion, exasperation and joy. They were millions of inside jokes — inside jokes that he could understand.

“Yeah. I think it applies to me,” he muttered. “But then... what does that make Klavier Gavin? A contradiction?”

Nahyuta hummed in thought, tapping away on his own phone.

“Hold up.” Apollo smacked the sofa. “But it’s not like I find him sexually attractive. So he isn’t a contradiction. He kind of supports the fact that I’m ace. So I just never have sexual attraction at all. Even with Klavier Gavin.”

“Well, you could be one of those people whose sexual and romantic orientation differ. Similar to the ones you mentioned just now. Bi ace and so on.”

“Could be, huh.” He scrolled through the page, searching. Then, he found the word.

Only after building an emotional connection. He recalled the way he gradually became a little more immune to glimmerous things, the way the purple turned less obnoxious and more endearing, and the way rev of a motorcycle engine grew from a source of annoyance to something that hinted to a more tolerable day and a night of laughter.

“Yup. Demiromantic sounds right,” he decided.

Nahyuta hummed. “Well, don’t you suppose that the case is solved, detective?”

“I’m a demi ace.”

The words tasted weird on his tongue. It was unfamiliar and he didn’t even know if he was saying it right, but it felt good to have a word for the things he experienced, and also perhaps the things he didn’t experience. From the inability to understand the world’s frothing obsession with other people’s naked bodies, to the frustration at why it seemed like the world saw everything as sexual, to the awkwardness of using the word “hot” or “sexy”. It clicked for Apollo, like a gear slotting into place. It made sense to him. And it finally felt like there was... a word for himself.

It felt pretty good.

A/N: Hell yeah. ACE Attorney.