#i actually do care about dream blunt rotations it’s just the same thing as the dream fishing trip but in disguise

[thiscatisonfire]

Who cares about dream blunt rotations I wanna hear bout yalls dream fishing trips. Like I think it’d be so fun to bring jerma fishing cause he’d be really bad at it

[brandnewhuman]

HELLO! So I'm high rn (don't tell the police) and I'm desperate for some Aether fics so could you maybe do Aether with a Stoner male reader? No pressure obviously!

HIGH KISSES

♡headcanons + small drabble♡

☆STARRING☆

Ghoul aether ☆ aka beefy, baby boy who has never known a single day of peace from people shorter than him

CONTENT

Tw; mentions of weed, mature language, slightly suggestive content IDK MAN.

A/N: AAAAAAH my first aether request from the my fav gremlin nonetheless. I REALLY HOPE I DIDN'T FUCKED UP HIS WHOLE CHARACTERISATION. IM ACTUALLY SHITTING BRICKS HERE CAUSE I don't really know how to exactly approach the ghouls personalities and what they do ecc. BRO IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS, IM GONNA TRY TO DO BETTER NEXT TIME

Song recommendation:

BRO AETHER IS LIKE THE BEST SMOKE BUDDY

He always has the best fucking weed 

Dream blunt rotation he, you and dewdrop

He literally takes you to the best spots so you both can have some quality time together without anyone (dewdrop) annoying both of you

When he finds out you smoke he's literally the happiest ghoul alive

He likes to spend as much time as possible with his s/o so having something in common to do is the best thing ever

He would be such a bad influence cause HE'S NEVER SAYING NO TO WEED

like he's not actively pushing you to do it all the time but you end up doing it anyways cause as soon as he lights even just a cigarette it always ends up with the both of you smoking pot

I feel like he would be really prepared for this type of "dates" 

HE IS LIKE ALWAYS TAKING CARE OF WHOEVER IS SMOKING WITH HIM AND EVEN MORE IF IT'S YOU

He's such a mom

Always carrying snacks or something to drink, and if he's not in his room with but outside then he always buys some snacks before doing anything

When he smokes he gets so touchy I JUST KNOW IT

all that shyness and wholesome adorable behaviour he always has? All fades for the sake of being flirty 

 it's between being very lovely and very horny at the same time

Wees takes out the dewdrop inside of him

LIKE HAVE YOU SEEN THAT CLIP WHERE HE TAKES A BLOW FROM DEWDROP SMOKE? HE DOES THAT BUT LIKE KISSING YOU AND IT'S THE SWEETEST THING EVER

I like the idea of him confessing his feelings the first time while being high 

His favourite smoke spot is a really nice and calm part of the woods where you can see the stars at night

Bro gets really deep with weed. Like he's having the biggest head very full so many thoughts moment ever

That or just having a ball annoying dewdrop 

Which leads him to get bullied by dew

Which, again, leads to dewdrop joining you both to smoke together 

Just imagine you're in the woods with aether, both of you laying on the grass and occasionally taking puffs from your joints. He has just finally managed to get some free days from all the rituals ecc so he's really tired and all he wanted was to be with you for a couple of minutes, just enjoying each other's company. 

He holds your free hand, slightly playing with your fingertips as he listens to all the things you wanted to tell him about. While you keep stargazing and your eyes get glossy both from the smoke and because of the reflection of the sky in your gaze he just stares at you. 

How could he not stare at you? You're quite literally so handsome that sometimes he catches his heart speeding up from just looking at you. Slowly he brings himself up and very carefully cages you under him with both of his hands at each side of your head. 

"What? Somethin's wrong?" Your words are slightly slurry as you find difficulty in forcing your voice out of your relaxed body. You lift a hand to gently cup his cheek, he just keeps staring at you with that sweet smile and gentle gaze that looks now slightly more sleepy because of the weed. 

He takes another drag of his joint while keeping himself up and balanced with his hand still at the same place. After taking a long enough drag he lowers himself again towards you, very slowly and making sure to hold back the smoke until he gets close as he needs to your lips. The smoke slips from his mouth as he kisses you so you kind of take a drag from him, when he backs up he just smiles while gazing down at you. He could spend his whole life watching you and never get tired of it 

YOU CAN'T TELL THIS WOULDN'T BE LIKE THE CUTEST THING EVER.  

[444tsumu]

HAPPY 100 MARS!!!/&/&: AHHH! okay so i’d love a tier three if you didn’t mind! i wanted to know which 3 characters would smoke ouid and what you think smoking with them would be like? ily tysm!

▭ WHICH CHARACTERS SMOKE WEED?

includes matsukawa, hanamaki, suna

warnings drug use, explicit content, doing things under the influence, implied sexual content, slight nsfw.

authors note lol ik some people don’t like the whole “w*ed” and dr*g use hc but it’s all fiction and based on my own personal opinion (: i don’t mean to offend anyone lol i smoke too <3

This is a long one, beware <3 also it’s also my dream blunt rotation LMAO

                          𖥻 MATSUKAWA, ISSEI !

definitely the philosophical stoner

always has a question or an answer

depends on how much he’s smoked though

eyes get really red and he looks really hot

prefers backwoods over regular papers

always smoked regular papers though bc woods are bad for you (:

does that thing where they lick the paper and look at you at the same time

the hottest man smoking ever god please

always makes sure to have you sitting on his left so that he passes it to you first

loves smoking people out

doesn’t really care if you put in money or not

if issei is around, everyone is getting high

smokes makki’s unemployed ass out like everyday lmao

loves to hotbox

lights you up for the first time and tries to get you into another galaxy

“if you’re gonna get high, at least do it right”

definitely funny as fuck when he’s high

always definitely ready to fuck

very touchy when he’s high

will hold on to you for a long time and forget he’s doing it

but if you make him let go he genuinely feels the skin contact nearly rip off

calm down mattsun your possessiveness is showing

tries to explain all the different types to you but forgets mid sentence

literally cannot formulate a single structured thought

definitely leans in to make out with you more than once

loves shotgunning with you

already lazy but when he’s zooted he’s UNBEARABLE

he really does wanna fuck but ends up smoking too much with you because you played chicago and forgot

doesn’t really get hungry for food but munchies?

ate all of the snacks

has no remorse for his actions either

stares into the deep nothing for like 10 minutes

just to snap out of it and look around suspiciously

“do you guys hear that….?”

“…..no?”

“………..the paint is screaming at me?”

ok buddy don’t ruin this for everyone else

knows how to french & ghost inhale

has argued with makki many times over the earth being flat

doesn’t really think it’s flat

ends up believing it is after makki told him the world was actually dome shaped

has a grinder shaped like a dragon ball

not a peer pressuring kinda guy but thinks everyone should get high at least once

definitely gets iwa and oikawa to try

loves getting oikawa high cause he thinks the guy is fucking hilarious

laughs at everything

just a great guy, especially when he starts smoking

falls into a weed coma and doesn’t wake up for like 3 days though

treats it like it’s a regular hangover

definitely falls asleep with his entire body on top of you and no remorse for the weight

says “i’m fried” and isn’t embarrassed about it for whatever reason

he’s hot so no one judges him

                      𖥻 HANAMAKI, TAKAHIRO !

definitely a comedian when he’s high

always the funniest guy in the room

when him and mattsun are together though?

undefeated

him and issei both smoked for the first time together

after that though?

they became unstoppable

don’t get me started with after volleyball season ended

prefers bongs because he thinks he looks cooler lmao

everyone assumes makki is high but they don’t know he actually gets high

offers to smoke you out cause you’re hot lmao

makes fun of you when you cough

even though he still coughs

hates hotboxing because he can’t handle it

but refuses to pussy out so he’s always the first one to agree

in his own words

“my mother didn’t raise no bitch”

makki please

ideal smoking partner

is one of those people that fuck the passing rotation up because he refuses to pass it to anyone but you

secretly does it because he doesn’t want anyone else’s lips touching yours

prefers to smoke with just his close friends but doesn’t mind a session

doesn’t like shotgunning cause he starts thinking his breath smells bad

gives in anyways because he doesn’t want you doing it with anyone else

loves when you put your legs on him

the pressure gives him chills

makes jokes 24/7 because he likes hearing you laugh

can’t french inhale but mattsun taught him how to ghost inhale and he hasn’t stopped since

takes videos of himself cause he thinks he looks cool

realizes he looks like a fucking idiot but fuck it we ball

falls into a weed coma with his head on your lap and his phone unlocked and still on

does that thing where he lights it up with it in his mouth and looks really fucking hot while doing so

has a breaking bad rick & morty rolling tray and is really proud of it

gets really into music when he’s high

will sing along to all the songs while he’s packing the bong

as i repeat

looks hot while doing so

definitely a hungry high

orders food before you even get to ask

“makki, want some snacks?”

“oh nah it’s cool, i already ordered mcdonald’s”

“????? we just finished smoking????”

prefers smoking over drinking but will do both when he wants to go big or go home

eyes get really low

talks kinda slow but really deep and it’s fucking hot

laughs by throwing his head back and it’s really cute

gets cold when he’s high

it doesn’t matter the season

he gets fucking cold and it makes no sense

so he’ll need your body heat to warm himself up (;

                            𖥻 SUNA, RINTAROU !

a confused high

no doubt about it

this man never knows what the fuck is going on

ik everyone complains about the stoner!suna hc

but i think it’s fucking hot lmao

always has like 2 blunts rolled and on him at all times

is one of those people that will use any excuse to do it

“……(sighs) i’m gonna go take a smoke break.”

“suna we just got here??”

“exactly”

likes joints and edibles the best

not much of a hungry high or munchie high

but he hyperfixates on a certain food and will eat it until there is nothing left

ate an entire pack of gum in one sitting before

definitely watches cartoons the minute he starts to feel the buzz

rarely talks unless to pass it to you or make a single joke that has you about to pee yourself

he doesn’t say much but when he does?

the man leaves an impact

hates smoking with other people

doesn’t like when they fuck his blunt/joint up

hates smoking joints rolled by other people unless he watches them do it

always complains when you ask to smoke with him but secretly loves it

shotguns with you and acts like nothing just happened

hello sir how dare you make me fall inlove like that

forgets everything so don’t try to say anything important to him

zones out because he’s too busy imagining fucking

but then forgets about fucking and starts thinking about what’s on the tv

can’t hold a conversation but will go in-depth as to why spongebob squarepants was more than just a sponge

“no you need to listen to me, patrick star is much more than just his best friend—”

“….rin what the fuck are you talking about?”

“you’re asking me like i know? pass the blunt.”

definitely got into smoking in high school but didn’t actually do it like that until college

lies on his drug tests lmao

smokes after every win as a celebration and smokes after ever loss as a reliever

lmao seek help sir

definitely tries to get you to take your shirt off when he’s in the moment

swears it’s because he’s doing you a favor but really just loves how you look in his clothes when he’s high

doesn’t really know when to stop because he’s never greened out before

all his supplies is a simple shade of black

he’s a simple man

can do all the smoke tricks

but won’t do it in front of anyone cause he hates when people point it out

likes hotboxing because it gets him higher faster

is actually friends with the guy he gets weed from lmao

his perfect date with you was that one time you guys stood home and did nothing but smoke and watch family guy

tears up every time he thinks about it

has a picture of himself with two blunts in his mouth and his eyes really red and it’s really fucking hot

giggles even though he tries not to

uses pens when he can’t physically have weed on him

doesn’t really like it because the pen high makes him knock out after a few pulls

once rin falls into a weed coma???

don’t even think about trying to contact him cause that man might as well be dead

doesn’t wake up to save his own damn life

you can smack him and the most he’d do is probably groan and turn his head lmao

[kuroos-moon]

with all that’s left, kenjirou

pairing: med student shirabu x hospital patient reader

summary: apparently, you’ve got limited time left. with that in mind, you don’t see a point to living through everyday, but changes in hospital rotations occur and a cold med student wounds up in your hospital room.

warning/s: hospital setting, terminal reader, pessimistic/apathetic thoughts

a/n: i might do a part two idk i lowkey could see this as a series just for the fun of it

wc: 3.4k 

Slowly blinking away the sleep from your eyes, you instantly recognize the absence of sunlight that’d normally leave you huffing and groaning by now. Your room was gloomy and dark, you realize, but it had to be daytime, as confirmed by the bland mechanical clock across from where you lay on your bed; you’ve grown accustomed to looking at it as soon as you woke up.

7:30 am, it read. 

Normally, you’d be up by seven sharp in courtesy of that psychotic nurse of a friend of yours, the room would be bright and sunny too unlike now. 

Plain white curtains were still over the window to your left, a few steps from your bed—it wasn’t wide, in fact, it was stupidly small considering that it was the only window in the room—but you’ve long ascertained that two people could stand together close enough and see through it comfortably.

Your days were uniformed. Your nurse would wake you up too damn early in the morning, try to radiate some happiness into you—not that you’re depressed—and then she’ll proceed with giving you your medication even though you could do it yourself, then she injects that stinging, numbing liquid in the tube that always made you feel sleepy, and lastly, she checks your vitals—your current state, your response to the treatment. 

You always loathe that part the most, although you appreciate her trying to ease it away with chitter chatter. She wouldn’t pass as an actress though even if her life depended on it, she couldn’t contain what she truly felt. It was painfully easy to tell you’re getting worse by the look on her face and her frightened, disappointed eyes—and it made you feel bitter, what else did you expect, Yui?

But of course you loved her too much to actually voice that out, she’s the only one who stuck around; and even if she denies it every single time, you know she gave up her dreams to live abroad to keep you company until your last breath. 

It’s neither a pro nor a con, but considering the lack of life in the room, you succumb to the emptiness, idly laying on your bed and getting stuck in a daze of nonentity as you stare up at the ceiling. It’s neither peaceful nor lonely either, it’s just reality. 

Hearing fast approaching footsteps getting closer, you know it could only be Yui, and for a split second you consider locking your door, her personality would only brighten up your room which was dark and gloomy for a change, and you wanted to leave it as it is.

Maybe she’ll let you keep the curtains closed if you begged enough. Maybe.

The door, which was to your right, slides open and you sigh—here we go. 

“Good morning y/n-chan!”

“Morning Yui,” you try to sound cheerful without looking at her. 

“Sorry I’m late! Had to take care of some things and I have sad news for you!”

You jokingly glare at her, “what do you mean you’re late? You don’t need to be here at all every 7 in the morning like a living alarm clock. I’m still a patient y’know, need sleep and all that.”

She only chuckles at you, heading for the windows to tie your curtains. 

“Can you leave them like that? I actually like it this way,” you mutter.

“Nope, let’s live in a vibrant environment shall we,” she muses, proceeding to open the curtains much to your distaste. Fortunately, even when she had them opened, the sky was covered with thick dark clouds—it would rain later on, but more importantly, your room remains bleak and lifeless.

“Why do you look so pleased?” She scowls at you and you grin. “My room reflects my withering life for a change.” It’s far too late the moment you realize you’ve said those words out loud. 

You don’t even need to sit up or turn your head to look at her to know she’s crying right now. Keeping your eyes closed, you listen to her mutter curses at you and how you should cherish the time you have left. 

It’s not that you’re depressed or bitter about how your life’s apparently fading away. But you’re much too realistic and you’ve long accepted that your life is fading away. There’s nothing you could do about it. You couldn’t bring yourself to be someone who appreciates every single second left or one who starts crashing out things from their bucket list either (you’re not even sure if you have one).

To you, your life is as good as gone. If it ends, it ends—it’s no big deal. And the fact that your mindset is so dull, your life painfully as monotonous, it’s not too much for you to ask for that your room should be the same. This sunless, dreary environment is greatly to your taste. Having it lit up so brightly, to add to that, Yui’s cheerful attitude, leaves you feeling like there should be more to your life than what it actually is: short and numbered.

“Said I was sorry,” you mutter, still lying on your back with closed eyes. She only sniffles, “try to lighten up the mood, will you? As I said I even have sad news.”

“Which is?”

“I’m not assigned to check on you anymore. There’s been a change in rotations with the increasing med students around.”

While it isn’t exactly sad news to you, it’s not pleasant either. It means that someone completely unknown to you would check your condition twice every single day.

“Who gets lucky enough to take care of me in your place then?”

She huffs and you could already tell she despises the person.  

“A fifth-year med student. He’s such a stuck-up, smart-mouth imbecile just because he gets stupidly good grades.”

“What? Don’t tell me you fought with him already or something,” you joke.

“Duh! Why else do you think I wasn’t here early? Like he’s apparently really smart, he undermined even his previous seniors that’s why they hated him and doctors here favor him too.”

“Thank you, though I don’t really think my wits and brains are as extraordinary as you make it out to be,” eloquently says a smooth, soothing yet distant voice to your right.

Your heads turn to the tall guy who stood by your doorframe. His disinterested eyes were on Yui and you could assume she was glaring back at him because that’s just the way she is—you’re simply too preoccupied with taking in the sight of him to confirm what Yui’s facial expression is right now.

His eyes are an even shade of brown, and brown was too warm a color for them to look so cold. The absence of any apparent emotion on his facial features made him appear so unapproachable and intimidating—not that you’re intimidated—and there was something in the way he carried himself and stood so upright that makes him seem so authoritative and composed.

“You!” Yui hisses, you slowly sit up, reminded of the awkward situation you’ve been put in all because she had to talk bad about someone without closing the door first. “Nurse Sato, was it? It’s a pleasure to be of your acquaintance again. Do you mind leaving so I could tend to the patient?”

Similar to his eyes, his hair was a coper brown, and you could tell he took good care of his hair from the way it seemed so well-combed and soft. How could one even look so good and smart in a white coat? And here you thought you’ve seen enough doctors in this lifetime to be at awe from the sight of someone with the same attire, holding a similar clipboard.

“You’re an annoying little br-

“I’m older than you, Nurse Sato. And professionally, you shouldn’t be losing composure in front of a patient, let alone be raising your voice.” He is simply so blunt and cold; you’re torn between snickering at Yui for getting dissed or remaining silent because he might have something to scold you for too.

Before Yui could say anything else, you intervene. “Hey, you still have your rounds to do, okay? I’ll be fine, go do your job or something,” you chuckle a bit as she grits her teeth, glaring at Mr. Icy Med Student by the door then at you.

“Are you taking his side?”

“If that means you’ll leave, then yes, I’m taking his side,” you grin at her. She leaves with a huff, attempting to bump his shoulder but he dodges with an unamused look pointed at her.

Now that you’re alone with him, you suddenly want Yui back. Why are you feeling so awkward anyway? You’ve met tons of doctors and hospital personnel. 

He closes the door behind him the moment Yui disappears, your eyes remaining focused on your hands at your lap as you hear the slow clicking of his shoes making its way to your bedside. The footsteps come to a halt, and you couldn’t tell if you were nervous because you haven’t seen much new faces for so long or because he himself just made you nervous like a natural law. 

“Good Morning, I’m Shirabu Kenjirou, a fifth-year medical student and I’ll be the one to monitor and tend to you on weekdays,” he says, and as you’ve observed, he had such a soothing voice, it could only be because he was training to be a doctor and patients had to be comfortable around him.

Right, why would you not look at him? He’s just another one of many whose job is to look after you until your last day. He isn’t special. Like it was some easy feat, you finally look up at him, a part of you wishing you hadn’t as you feel your breath getting caught up in your throat upon meeting such far-off yet captivating brown eyes. 

He looks at you expectantly, and you get that it was because he’s waiting for you to introduce yourself. “You already know my name,” you mutter, looking away from him. He slightly raises his brows in surprise, in fact, he does know your name already, but that was an unusual response said with an undoubtedly lifeless accent—not that he cares—he’s just observant and sharp-witted.

“Y/n L/n, is that correct?” He momentarily looks down on his clipboard although he memorized your name the first time he heard it; he’s gifted with ridiculously sharp memory too. You nod, looking outside the window, surprised that it was raining. 

“Then if you don’t mind,” he says under his breath, putting down his clipboard on the table beside you before grabbing an injection and some bottled stuff you still don’t know the name of from the metallic cart by the foot of your bed. Your eyes are locked on him, injecting that stuff from the bottle seemed like a small thing to do but he still looked so focused.

The same goes for when he injects it to the tube connected to the needle in your left hand and the liquid-containing bag that serves as your daily needed life savers so that you could still walk and move around. You wince a bit, feeling the all-too familiar sting of the process.

Normally, doctors or nurses would ask you if you were okay and if it hurt when you winced like that. Not him though, and you narrow your eyes at him in curiosity. “You’re not gonna ask it?”

“Ask what?” It’s crazy how his voice does things to you you can’t quite explain, and you reason that it’s maybe because he doesn’t speak much.

“If it hurts,” you shrug. “Don’t move,” he snaps, sharp eyes finding yours before they look down on his busy hands again. Even his hands were pretty, and for a moment you wonder if they feel as nice as they look.

There’s a moment of silence before he walks away from you, checking your vitals and scribbling who knows what on his clipboard. You eye the two extra pens in his pocket, and you reckon he really is uptight with himself as he looks and acts so disciplined. Why would he need that many extra pens? 

and why should you care? an inner voice asks.

He may be fixated on what he’s doing, but he could tell how intently you stared at him. Perhaps you were waiting for him to answer your question? He doesn’t want to. He’s not one to engage on conversations that are trivial—he knows better than to actually know more than what’s necessary of someone dying. 

Shirabu certainly gets the vibe off you that you cared about nothing anymore, and he’s not exactly empathetic enough to actually feel sorry about your limited time alive. 

Still, it was slightly getting to him how your eyes never left his figure though he never pegged himself to be easily self-conscious. “Why didn’t I ask if it hurt,” he mutters and you look at him in surprise. “I know that it hurts, and if I were to ask and you were to say yes, I wouldn’t know what to say other than meaningless encouragements. I don’t like saying things I don’t mean and I assume you don’t want to hear them either.”

“You’re right.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye for a while, you’re just staring out the window. “Do you want me to close the curtains?” He asks, but you decline and he doesn’t talk anymore after that.

“That’s it for now, thank you for your cooperation, Ms. L/n. If you ever need anything else, tell me now.” When you don’t say anything, he doesn’t spare you a second glance before he turns on his heel, about to make a leave.

“Wait,” you call, and he stops, turning around to look at you. “I’d prefer if you don’t call me miss.”

“Shall I call you mister then?”

You blink. “Is that what you call a joke?” 

You could make out the slight knitting of his brows. “I was being sarcastic. It’s only professional to address you formally as you are a patient,” he strictly says, a small frown on his lips.

So you do know how to make faces, that’s the only thing on your mind as you both look at each other in silence for a mere short seconds before you speak again.

“Then is it professional to be sarcastic, Kenjirou-san?” You don’t notice the small smile on your lips but he does. Are you having a kick out of prolonging his stay in your private hospital room? He somehow dislikes it here, it made him uneasy and deep down he knows it wasn’t because of the room itself and more so because of you.

“It isn’t. My apologies, Miss L/n.”

“I said not to call me that,” you unintentionally snap. There’s no reason behind not wanting to be called that really, it just doesn’t sound right. “If you say so, y/n-san. Anything else you need?”

A grin accidentally slips out, he sounded casual and that, plus his voice, was the most pleasant thing ever. You can’t explain why you’re feeling something other than emptiness, nor are you aware that you’re somewhat giddy—you’ve far long thrown away feelings in order to survive daily with your sanity intact.

“Could I borrow a pen?” You ask him. 

He sighs, stepping close to your bed and grabbing a pen from the pocket of his coat before handing it to you. You look at it for a few seconds before taking it in your own hand, your skins barely untouching but somehow, at the back of Shirabu’s mind, he ponders if your fingertips were cold to touch considering how cold your room is.

“Thanks, I’ll return it to you later.”

He nods, putting his hands in his pockets, only realizing how cold they were when he looked at yours and wondered the same. Upon much deliberation, he looks sideways, much too prideful to look at you. “Are you feeling cold?”

You could only smile, unconsciously that is, but it surprised him still. “Now that you say it, yeah, it is quite cold.”

Before you know it, he’s walked out the door and you scoff loud enough for him to hear before he closes it. “What was the point of asking me then?” You mutter under your breath, already feeling drowsy from the injected thingy. 

The moment he was out of your sight, he stands still, his back leaning to your door. You confused him somehow, because he did hear your conversation with Yui. You totally struck him as someone who’s come to terms with their fate however ill, you’re not exactly depressed but you’re not what he considers a living person either. 

He shakes his head, what am I saying? He’s training to be a doctor yet he thinks someone breathing isn’t living—it just doesn’t make sense. But except for the fact that it does make sense. He’s heard of your name a couple times before, nurses and med students like him preferred to be the ones in charge of you because you were neither depressed or too friendly—you didn’t take a toll on their energy, they say.

That’s entirely untrue for his case. Sure, you weren’t a talker nor were you especially gloomy for someone ill, but there’s something completely and inexplicably unusual going on from the moment you evaded his mind more than necessary. He should think about what he does after he finishes with one thing, he should think about what you need—what a patient needs. 

Instead, he secretly wondered why you smiled at him so genuinely when you seemed so disconnected and disinterested with everything. Deep down, he wanted to know what was on your mind when you were staring at the rain through that small window of yours. 

What’s more to that is he doesn’t know why he wasn’t as focused on the task on hand as much as he liked, was it because of your conversation? If so, at which point did he feel so compelled to ask you more—to ask you why you needed his pen? 

Looking at his watch, he grits his teeth, disappointed in himself. It took him way much more time than it should for him to be done with you, and to think he prided himself for being someone efficient.

The moment you wake up, your eyes land immediately on the clock. It’s a quarter past noon, and it was still raining outside, the rain only getting heavier and louder. Your room still looked as dark and bland as when you first woke up this morning and you’re thankful that the icky bright sunlight didn’t creep in while you were dozed off. 

Sitting up, you finally notice the thin blanket you slept in folded neatly at the foot of your bed yet you feel so warm—at peace and relaxed even. You clutch the thick blanket over your frame, looking at it in surprise and a long forgotten feeling—happiness.  

It feels weird but unknowingly, you had the urge to go out of your way and thank him for it. It is his job to do so after all, still, if you’re grateful, you’re grateful. 

In honor of the thick blanket, maybe you should eat on time. You’ve been far too rebellious and uncaring, at least for today, you should be good. As you were about to pick up your tray from your bedside table, something caught your eye. There were pieces of paper beside it, the pen you borrowed atop the papers.

You tilt your head in wonder. There was surely not a single paper in sight earlier, it’s the reason why you haven’t started writing yet. It’s not like the lady assigned to give you meals suddenly decided to give you papers as well as if she knew what you were up to.

Could it be Kenjirou? Just the thought of that possibility has your lips curled up in a smile all day—as you finish your meal, as you took a bath, changed clothes, and watched television on your bed.  

“Geez, you seem so happy today of all days when the weather’s bad,” Yui gives you a look, sitting on the small couch beside your bed because she was apparently on break. 

“Hmm?”

“Nothing. I’m saying you’ve been so dead lately—and I meant that figuratively—despite my best efforts to lighten the mood and let some sunlight in your room. Now that the weather’s bad, your room’s dark, and that annoying Shirabu replaced me I…”

“What?” You mindlessly glance back up at the clock at the mention of his name, the fuzzy feeling back at the pit of your stomach all over again. At 7 pm, that distant smart-mouth brown-eyed medical student would walk right in again. 

“I’ve never seen you look so alive, y/n.”

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[magpiemorality]

Remus vs. His Birthday

Long post is long, keep reading isn’t working sorry all!

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, gore, murder, nsfw things; unfriendly Remus (he’s just antagonistic not unsympathetic); Remus being rude about the nsfs tag (not an opinion the author holds).

AO3

***

What exactly was the point, Remus wondered, of a birthday? Was it a celebration of cheating death? A consolation prize for getting through another solar rotation of mundane life? An apology to everyone in your life for existing? 

Yeah Remus wasn’t sold. Why would you bother? If it was a celebration why celebrate only once a year, when society told you you could, rather than whenever life was actually worth celebrating? Why not impose yourself on all days, or better yet forget days were a thing at all? 

(That last part sounded like Janus when he was on one of his society-is-a-con rants but Remus liked the idea. And the rants. They were pretty fun to listen to.)

Today was, apparently, Remus’ birthday, for all that meant to him. The real issue was that, irritatingly, it meant something to everyone else. And before this year, specifically this year, that would have meant squat. But this damn year it meant plans. 

Plans were another thing Remus didn’t see the point of. Why think about future things when you could think about now things and just do them? He was all impulse, by design, and sticking to a plan was incomprehensible and pretty revolting to think about, torture plain and simple for a creature like him. 

Remus seethed at the very concept, staring daggers at the envelope that had dropped into his home in the subconscious. Literal daggers, shredding the cheerful mint green paper of it with vicious pleasure, until the daggers were just thudding into the floor underneath and he got distracted playing target practice with various shadows of particularly nasty thoughts that crept through the dark corners down where he lived. 

Daggers exhausted and eyes back to normal, he collapsed into the blow up armchair he so adored (mostly because it made brilliant fart-like noises whenever he shifted around) and wondering if plotting went against his moral stance on plans. He felt like plotting. He felt like not celebrating his birthday thank you very much. 

Unfortunately the next thing to drop in was much more Thomas-shaped, and it dusted itself off nonchalantly while he considered a return to the dagger-eyes. 

“J-anus.”

“Remus. Must we be like that?” Janus asked with his very carefully crafted snobbish distaste. “I come in peace.”

“Wish you’d come in pieces. That would’ve been much more fun,” Remus muttered, and as he blinked at the other side body parts started to drop piece by piece around his intruder. Janus glanced down at the first and hid a delicate shudder, returning his gaze to Remus’ face and steadfastly holding it there. Remus dropped a nose on his shoulder just to spite him. He could appreciate a good pun as well as the next side. 

Janus cleared his throat. “We would like to celebrate your birthday. It’s not entirely, ah, a birthday party, per se? But Logan predicts the fans might celebrate for you, and Thomas will naturally be unable not to think of you much. The invitation was more of a heads up.”

“Attention? On moi? I’ll have to dress appropriately. Birthday suit is only right!”

“Remus-”

“What? Don’t approve? It’s not even my birthday, Snake Bell. They’re just something Daddy latched onto to make his dreams of normality come true. Besides, it’s not like anyone wants me front of mind- where worse to have your darkest thoughts after all?” 

“That’s not the point.”

“Ah, points. I was thinking about those. I think the more the better-” he grinned, twirling his hand and summoning his morning star into it “-but this has precisely none. I don’t want to celebrate it. No one else wants to celebrate it. Drop it there, or I’ll drop you all one by one off a tall building. Or maybe the plank. Now pirates, there’s a fun aesthetic...”

Clearly the conversation wasn’t going the way Janus wanted because he looked visibly frustrated, pulling his hat off to rake a hand through his hair with a little scowl marring his- well, half of his face. If Remus took a meat-cleaver down the centre of his skull he wouldn’t have matching halves. Ooh, Heathers. Now there was another fun aesthetic. Imagine turning up to the joke of a celebration in a cutesy prep school outfit complete with croquet mallet. Hammer. Thing. Remus wasn’t sure of the name, but it didn’t have any points so meh. Maybe it could be a fun experiment, like the Riverdale Heathers episode, which Remus had only experienced through the triple layer disconnect of Thomas watching it and unwittingly handing it over to Janus to hide down in the subconscious where all the other undesirable memories, experiences and miscellaneous things lived. Like Remus! 

But he was losing focus, and Janus was still there. Ugh.

“Just be prepared, alright? It would be highly appreciated if you didn’t just show up and antagonise Thomas on the one day he’s allowing you up front. I know it’s hard but just... ix-nay on the eath-day, ex-say and ore-gay?”

“Ooh, ore-gay, or orgy? Did you mean to say orgy?” Remus grinned sharply and Janus’ remaining composure dribbled away. 

He muffled a scream into his gloved hands before glaring once more at Remus. “Just behave. Or I will put you back here, and you will stay here until even the memory of you has faded, understood?”

Remus’ mouth clicked shut and he nodded, eyes narrowed balefully under the scorching threat. “Understood. But next time you feel the need to threaten me with hiding again, maybe don’t do it in my own home, hm?”

“Wha-”

“Bye Felicia.” The sound of Janus’ screech as he was shot upwards by a giant tentacle and shoved back through the ceiling to where he belonged was like music to Remus’ ears. Scream music. Oh, how interesting, what if he took screamo music and put it to actual screams?! 

~

It was such a good idea that he forgot about his ‘birthday’ entirely while focused on his project until the next day, when the tugging started. It was gentle at first, just the odd prod, like a big finger was occasionally checking his responses. Like he was a tiny lab rat in a giant world, and boy did that one hit a little too close to home. Home here being allofhisgreatestfearsatonce. 

He didn’t want to answer the call, he really didn’t, but... Remus was curious, and impulse won out as always. Because why not go look? Why not go see? Who cared how it turned out- the fun was in the spontaneity, in the doing. 

Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was not what he’d have expected had he expected anything at all. But Thomas standing with a faintly amused smile was what awaited Remus topside, out in the full force of consciousness. It burned, being here, and Remus was reminded once more that in many ways he’d not been imprisoned down below for everyone else’s safety but also his own. Damn the snake for his constant self-preservation. Remus wanted to be mad at him for leaving for once!

“Hi Remus,” Thomas greeted, that same amusement on his tone. And oh, yeah, he’d gone with the Heathers look after all. It was a warm summer day and skirts were nice and breezy, sue him. Remus struck a pose with the croquet... thing, and bared his sharp teeth. 

“Did you miss me? Oh you did miss me didn’t you. I can tell! You’re just so curious about me! Well-”

“Settle down,” Logan warned, and oh. Yuck, other sides. 

“Yeah why don’t you-” Remus screamed, high pitched and piercing, as his supposed twin’s voice came from right behind him, spinning and swinging and almost catching Roman in the face with the blunt weapon. Only Virgil’s quick reflexes managed to save him, leaping into the way to catch the head of the mallet like a baseball. Now baseball, there was an impulsive and dangerous sport. Why had they never taken up baseball? 

Oh that was right... 

“Well done Virgil!” Janus smiled. Because the snake said no. And Virgil said no. And when the two of them agreed even Dream Daddy had to comply. Whatever, it was never too late. The croquet mallet turned into a baseball bat as his thoughts flickered, but it was boring and not pointy enough, until he added the nails. 

Everyone flinched back slightly, even Thomas, and Remus hefted the weapon onto his shoulder with a proud jut to his chin. Good. 

Thomas looked uncertain but he tried again. “Um, that’s cool. Like from the Walking Dead?”

“Just like that! Who volunteers as zombie?!”

“Actually we had something else in mind!” Thomas interjected quickly, turning his phone around to show the screen. “Look, cool art!” 

Remus didn’t miss the glance Thomas sent around the other sides for approval, but he was soon distracted by the contents of the screen. He scrolled, and scrolled, and kept scrolling. Huh. This was, actually pretty cool stuff. Plenty of blood, gore, some sexy things. And all not just about him but for him. Interesting. 

Also this tumble thing was dreadfully good. He’d have to get one. Endlessly scrolling on a sea of blue was the perfect- aka worst- kind of instant gratification mixed with cybergothic horror that he’d always wanted to explore creatively not that Thomas would let him if he only understood more about it. 

Around the room the other sides and Thomas stood, waiting with bated breath to see what might happen. It had been a few minutes of silence, which had Janus’ jaw dropping open and Virgil shifting nervously on his feet. Roman busied himself looking over Remus’ shoulder and trying not to wince at the gross stuff as he appreciated the art himself. Finally it grew too much and Thomas had to know. He had to!

“Is it good? Do you like it? I think there’s a lot of cool stuff there but-”

“Did you know there was an explicit tag specifically for us?” Remus gasped in delight, before frowning. “Jeez, we get our own tag. How prudish are your audience Thomas?”

“And that’s enough of that!” The phone was neatly plucked from Remus’ fingers and tossed over by Roman, shrugging when Remus glared at him. “So what do you think, Remus? They all made that stuff because they wanted to celebrate you. Janus mentioned you don’t like birthdays, but-”

Remus held a hand up to shut him up. “Okay look, it’s not my birthday. But that stuff was pretty cool. Especially the naughty bits. So, uh, thanks I guess. Don’t get used to it but thanks. And now bye! I have zombies to kill. I need to perfect my Hollywood zombie strike for maximum blood spray and noise.” He blew a kiss and vanished in a pop of noxious gas, leaving poor Roman to gag and leap away before it could get on his clothes. 

Beneath them (figuratively) in the subconscious, Remus landed on a trampoline that instantly snapped to dump him on the floor with a thump, where he lay, stunned not from the fall but mostly from all the thoughtful and cool tributes to him he’d seen. Maybe birthdays weren’t so bad. Maybe the point was to feel a little proud of yourself and who you were, and where you were in life. He was, maybe not entirely but certainly almost, a real functioning side in Thomas’ mind, not reduced to intrusive thoughts from time to time when the barriers wore thin. 

Also he had a nail-bat now. And a whole bunch of new ideas from the art he’d seen to try out too... Where to start?

Well, apparently he had a whole year to figure that out. 

-

Masterlist | Buymeacoffee

[jjsjuiceboxx]

FORTH OF JULY WITH JJ AND THE POGUES WOULD INCLUDE-

SUMMARY- just a head canon of your fourth spent with the pogues.

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️: cussing.

A/N: let me know what y’all think should I do more ??

☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎ ☮︎

- JJ waking you and the pogues early to get supplies because John b forgot and JJ isn’t good at planning ahead nor is he good at thinking on the spot “you guys no I’m not good under pressure I get duressed”

- At the store he picks up anything and everything that is food ( he smoked weed on the ride to the store and now has the munchies ) “JJ we do not need 5 bags of m&ms and 3 family sized bags of chips”

- Back at the chateau where you all are organizing the food and drinks and other important parts to a 4th of July bash and JJ is rolling blunts up for everyone and putting them in a mason jar

- “Let me help you roll that, it’s a lot that’ll take you forever” “no Pope it has to be perfect and precise or else it won’t light correctly”

- deciding this was just a thing for the pogues and no kooks or tourons allowed so that meant a private beach spot “guys I know a great spot on the beach no one would find us at” “JJ I swear to god if it’s you and Y/N’s sex spot I’m going to hurt you” “it might be....dont think about it”

- you going to help Sarah carry one keg while pope and ki get the other and JJ not wanting you to get hurt such as dropping the keg on your foot and breaking your toe ( yes you’ve done that and not more than once so JJ isn’t risking it ) “I got it for you baby, Sarah I’m a strong man you let go let me carry it and show you how it’s done” JJ would say flexing his muscles

- once everything is set up a camp fire, portable grill, s‘more stuff, all the food and drinks, a table for drinking games, a tarp and buckets of water with soap to make a home made slip and slide, corn hole ( JJ made it especially for the 4th of July and let you paint it how you wanted out on the dock while y’all had a pic nic, his idea of a date it was simple but so cute and beautiful when the sun started to set )

- once the sunset JJ handed you a beer cracking it open for you and then doing the same for himself he pulled you into him and raised his beer into the air to say a toast “you guys are my family and I just wanted to say you’re my favorite people to get wasted with” JJ said, you all knew that was JJ’s way of saying he loved you guys and would always be there everyone knew that too and put their beers in the air and saluted and yelled a bunch of booyahs JJ leaned into your ear and said “I love you and I always will” then he would kiss your cheek and let it linger for a bit “I love you more” you would say sincerely and making eye contact that you held for awhile so he really knows and sees you mean that so deeply

- you guys brought an old ratty table and solo cups to play beer pong of course I mean is it really a party if there isn’t beer pong? Pope and JJ were on one side of the table while you and John b were to the other when playing beer pong you and John b were always a team because you work well together and almost always can tell what’s on his mind without asking and vise versa. “Babe you’re so going down John b and I have this in the bag” “in your dream sweet cheeks” he’d wink at you Sarah was everyone’s cheerleader “GO POPE DEEP BREATH IN AND LET IT OUT AND TOSS” “Sarah you’re my girlfriend” “sorry babe I don’t like picking sides” “ooouu babe a little to the right and you got it” “wow thanks” when JJ shoot 3 in a row you and Sarah both cheered “good job babe” “thank you but love you’re not supposed to cheer your opponent on” “oh right aww boo” that made everyone laugh you and John b won one and then JJ and Pope won one Sarah and kie didn’t but better luck next time

- because of beer pong and the drinks you had before you guys were tipsy which makes the slip and slide THAT Much more fun you pored buckets of water and dish soap on the tarp that was on a hill you guys brought boogie boards and stuff to slide down with Incase you didn’t want to slide on your stomach or back “I’m going first since I’m the pro” kie said grabbing the boogie board and running down it then landing on the boogie board on kies way down she was laughing and squealing, because she had a boogie board when she hit the water she kept going a bit further out “oh my god you look like a skipping stone” JJ would laugh at her John b went on his stomach saying he wanted to see what being a penguin was like Sarah went right after John b making them crash into one another at the bottom and Pope would fall in the sand laughing, JJ grabbed your hand and you guys would run so fast then jump onto the slip and slide and JJ would not let go of your hand even on the way up he still held it and would look down at you smiling so wide you loved when he looked that happy with out a care in the world. Pope went last because he wanted to calculate his move like a weirdo. “Ok so I calculated my speed and where I need to jump at to gre-“ “just got already Pope” “ok” pope stepped back and took off towards the slip and slide and jumped slightly but stayed standing as if he was surfing or skateboarding he made it all the way down that way we all jumped up and cheered him on “dude that was soo cool” “good job Pope that was awesome” “man I wish I thought of that” you guys went down the slip and slide some more

- once it was dark out you guys made a bonfire and started to cook the hot dogs of course you burnt some of them but it’s ok because you brought extra thanks to kie you guys ate dinner and drank some more and talked.

- after dinner you decided it’s dessert time which of course is smores it isn’t a bonfire without it you pope and kie would say when John b asked if it was necessary, JJ looked so confused at all of you using sticks and putting the marshmallow on the stick then into the flames “j what’s wrong?” “N-nothing I’m good” “oh my god JJ do you not know what a smore is???” JJ would pout “shut up kiara of course I know what it is” “if you say so” you would continue talking when you felt a slight nudge you looked over and saw JJ looking at you then his marshmallow on the stick “aww j it’s ok if you have never made a smore before this makes this so much more cute and I’ll teach you” “ok baby, it’s just no one ever showed me or made me a smore before ever” he would say looking down you put your hand on top of his hand that was holding the stick and put it in a flame “the fire will cook and melt the marshmallow you can let it burn it so it’s black and crispy or have it so it’s slightly burnt” you said rotating his hand and stick around to get all sides “how do you like yours done” “I like mine burnt so I just let it catch fire then a few seconds later blow it out plus it is a lot more faster” “then I want mine how you do yours” you put y’all’s hands out further letting it catch fire you pull it closer to you so you can blow it out “ok now hand me a block of chocolate and two graham crackers” he gave them to you and you put the chocolate on one side then put the stick between your thighs and You squeezed your thigh together to keep the stick still you put the marshmallow between the graham crackers mushed them together and pulled the marshmallow off the stick then handed it to JJ “voila a smore made out of love for my love” you smiled and then did a chefs kiss JJ smiled and giggled at what you said “why thank you my lady” he said then took a bite of the smore you saw his eyes light up “oh my god oh my god this is so fucking good this is my favorite thing, I can really taste the love too” he would say smacking his lips around. Every one stopped to look at JJ who had chocolate and marshmallow all over his face you all busted out laughing and JJ realized why quickly laughing too you went to kiss his lips then pulled away and licked the mess off his face then kissed him again “that was so gross” “you’re just jealous popo” “I’m not responding because that is not my name Y/N” “it is now” you would shrug. After you ate the s’mores to the point you would explode. JJ was a mess he has so much chocolate and marshmallows on his hands so he started to chase everyone with his sticky hands “JJ I swear to god if you get your sticky gross fingers on me I will drown you in the ocean” “JJ don’t I just bought this top” “JJ don’t get Sarah’s top gross” “oh my god are you 5?” “4 actually” “that’s fan-fucking-tastic”.

- you could see the fire works from figure 8 you were a good distance away but they were still super close and big “I can’t believe it was 20$ to go to that thing” “yeah you’d be stupid to do that” “we are geniuses we get a free fire work show and we have such a good view of it” you guys all watched the show in aw of how beautiful it was and how it would reflect off the ocean you took pictures of the view for a bit then cuddled into JJ for the rest he would hold you very tight and make sure you had enough drink and food ( chips ) and made sure you were comfy and warm enough.

- it was dark enough to do fire works so Pope, John b, and JJ decided they would be the ones lighting the fire works because “we don’t want our girls to be blown up in the face” all three boys would say. After you guys did your fireworks which were shitty cheap ones you did sparklers “guys someone take pictures” “Sarah we have to live in the moment” “if Sarah says we take pictures we take pictures” “I want to make photo frames for all of us so you can each have one in your room” that ended up being a valid reason so the boys didn’t mope around when they were told to pose.

- the last fire work was a message that read out “Sandra will you marry me?” You all could hear the cheers from where you stood then you heard what you assume to be Sandra shout “oh yes Steve I will” which lead to louder shouts and cheers Sarah mumbles “wow congrats Sandra, thanks for making my parents drag me to more kook gathers” “oh fuck that means me to doesn’t it?” “Of course it does John b” you could hear pope and kie arguing over how fire works ruin the planet when JJ whispered into your ear “one day I’ll have a fire work show for you and it’ll have words and everything because I love you so much and I want everyone in obx to see it they’ll be that big” you smiled up at JJ and kissed him “I love you JJ since you’re doing a fire work show I’ll do something else but it’ll be HUGE don’t worry” “I don’t doubt that” you went to kiss again and were startled apart by more fireworks from kooklandia as you and the pogue refer to it you all laugh at everyone’s scared faces but you turned back to JJ to kiss him again you heard a few clicks and some flashes you pulled apart and kie and Sarah were taking photos “now my photo obsession isn’t so stupid anymore is it?” “Yeah you’ll thank us later when you have such a cool and cute shot of y’all locking lips with the ocean and fireworks in the back” you and JJ just rolled your eyes but by this time next week when you all got the photos back you knew you would for sure thank kie and Sarah for the photos.

[rederiswrites]

Whiskey Shared

Fandom: Mass Effect: Andromeda Rating: Teen Wordcount: 1526 Tags: Ryder/Reyes Vidal, breakups

Note: Major spoilers for Kadara and the Reyes romance.  Also, this is not about who is better, or what the right choice is.  This is just about Trick Ryder’s reaction to what ended up happening to him.  

Trick held the stolen whiskey bottle in his hands, rotating it slowly.  There were still maybe four shots sloshing gently in the bottom, burning with the distant memory of Sol and Earth.  

They'd sat on the roof sharing it, him and Reyes, and for maybe the first time, Heleus had felt a little like home, really home.  They'd talked and dreamed and kissed, kissed like he'd known they would, and he'd been-- comfortable.  Free.  It had felt good.  Like a beginning.

The room Reyes had brought him to had been devoid of personal effects, and maybe that should have been a warning, but he'd had other things on his mind.

“Your place?” he'd asked at the door, eager to know more, to see what kind of things Reyes chose to surround himself with.

“For the moment.”

He knew there'd be no sign of Reyes there if he returned.

It had been--well.  It had been fantastic.  Reyes had been skillful, passionate, considerate, responsive…  It had also been Trick’s first time in not 600 years, but 604.  Maybe 606 since it had really meant something.

In the morning, they'd made love again, lazy and comfortable, and then gone out for breakfast.  Then one last kiss.  Reyes had given him the whiskey, and Trick had said he'd hold it 'til next time.

The memory had warmed him many times since, but now it made a cold knot in the pit of his stomach.

He'd known as soon as Reyes had stepped out of the shadows of the cave in Draullir.  He really wasn't stupid, only distracted and desperately lonely.  Of course the Charlatan wasn't going to just ignore a Pathfinder in his territory.  Of course it'd be someone he’d met.  But Reyes…

He hadn't been conscious of making a choice when his headlamp caught the flash of the scope.  He'd still been reeling, trying desperately to process what was happening, trying to decide how to intervene. He'd just moved on instinct, responding to danger instantly to shove Sloane out of the path of the bullet.  

But he supposed, looking back, that it counted as a decision after all.  He hadn't jumped to save Reyes, only Sloane.  If he'd had time to spell the thought out, his obvious conclusion was that if someone was doing something underhanded here, it was Reyes.  Sloane was a blunt instrument.

What he wouldn't have given for time.  Time to ask questions.  Time to make considered decisions.  Time, please, just a minute here…

But there hadn't been time.  

He'd stopped Reyes--stopped the Charlatan-- and then let him go, and he'd been cold and sick and lost ever since.

The worst of it was that no one knew how much he hurt.  There’d be no comforting words, no sounding board.  Well, SAM knew, and had offered his condolences quite properly.  But it wasn't the same.   Not the same as Vick telling him he was a stupid ass and holding him while he cried, like she had after his last relationship tanked.  Not that going to her would be the same, her sleeping body still on the cot.  It’d just make it worse.  SAM was...a friend?  Of sorts.  But he certainly didn't understand this, and had said as much.  No one here knew what he kept inside.  It'd been nothing but congratulations all round on finally getting an Outpost, on opening up the last of their Golden Worlds. A celebration.  Brave words for Addison to broadcast.  A bright, frozen smile.

And nothing but an email from Reyes.  Three lines.  SAM had traced all of the messages he'd sent without being asked, but they all lead to public kiosks.  He knew he wouldn't see the Charlatan again unless the Charlatan decided to see him.

A knock on the door startled him.  People rarely disturbed him in his room, and he hadn't really invited them in, to be honest.

“Who is it?”

“Vetra.  Can I come in?”

“Door's always open for you,” he chirped, scrambling to stuff the whiskey bottle back in a cabinet.  He hadn't been actually crying, hadn't managed to digest enough for crying, so he should look alright.

Vetra came in hesitantly, looking around the edge of the door.

“What can I do you for?”. He smiled warmly and gestured to a chair.

Vetra glanced at the chair but held her place.  “Well I--actually, I thought maybe you might need someone.  If...that’s okay.  That was a pretty bad scene back there in Draullir.  Not the way I'd want to end a relationship.”

“I--”. Trick froze.

“You can be honest, you know.  I won't break if the Pathfinder turns out not to be an invulnerable god.”

Trick stood still, grasping at the frayed threads of his composure.

“I-- fucked up.  Bad.”

“Yeah?  Because from here, everyone made it out alive and now we have an Outpost.  Anything else is on Reyes.”

“He used me.”  Trick slumped back onto his bed.

“Yup.”

“I knew-- I mean--I knew he was a criminal, and a smuggler, but I thought-- I thought, he’s a good man, underneath.  Just trying to get by.  I mean, you were a criminal too, but...you know?”

“I do,” said Vetra, turning the chair and leaning over the back.  “But I try not to lie to people I care about.  I try to keep them out of my dealings, not deliberately involve them.”

“Did he?  Care about me?  I don’t know.  I thought we had something, maybe, something good.  But maybe it was all just so I’d choose him, in that moment.”

“I think he cared.  For what that’s worth.  I don’t think he could’ve counted on you being there.”

“But then, what if I saved Sloane because of that?  Was that the right choice, or was I just blindsided and hurting?  He’s...I don’t know.  Maybe he would have been better for Kadara, if he’d taken over.  I think he wanted the outpost.  I think--I still think he’s a good man, maybe.”

“Maybe.  Hard to know.  They both did some pretty nasty things to get and hold power.  They both might’ve been making the best choices they could see.  I think they both care about Kadara and the exiles.  But now, neither of them is dead, and things go on, and things change.  It’s not like you married Sloane, either.  She’s got her chance now, to play nice and show what she can do with proper resources and competition.  It’s just a chance.”

“I just...I wish...there was no time to talk about anything.  I had--have--so many questions.  It was over before I had any idea what was going on, and now I’ve got nothing but an email.”

“An email?”

He had it memorized already.  “‘For what it’s worth,’” he intoned, “‘I’ve never known a man like you.  Goodbye, Ryder.’  That’s the whole thing.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah pretty much.”

“Listen, uh...the crew’s got a little dinner coming together.  For you.  I’ll understand if you want to stay in, I’ll go tell them, but…”

“No I’m--I’m fine.  Gotta eat anyway, right?”

Vetra’s mandibles flexed in her equivalent of a smile as she got up.  “Guess so.”

“Hey Vetra?  Thanks.  A lot.”

“Anytime, Trick.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The team was all there already when he got to the cramped dining compartment.  Gil spotted him first.

“Heeey, the man of the hour has arrived!”

A small cheer went up from the rest, and Trick mustered a genuine enough smile.  They were great people, and he was happy for them.  He took the indicated seat, and the bowl someone plunked in front of him, letting himself fade into in the banter and laughter.

A small hand touched his arm, and he turned to see Suvi, eyes big with worry.

“I wanted to say, I heard what happened, and I’m sorry about your boyfriend.  Are you alright?”

Trick blinked.  “He’s not my--wait.”  He looked around the room, where all eyes were suddenly on him.  The levity had been abruptly put on pause.  “Wait, you all knew?  About me and Reyes?”

“You silly fuck,” Gil laughed.  “You were moony!”

“You thought it was a secret?”  Peebee’s eyebrows arched over her black masking.  “Well, you’re not cut out to be a criminal mastermind, anyhow.”

“So I guess it’s over?�� said Liam.

“Yeah.  I guess so.  Sent me an email to say goodbye.”

“An email?  Damn, that’s cold.  Could’ve at least recorded something.”  Liam stretched over the table to thump him on the shoulder.  “I’m sorry, man.  It’s rough.  Let me know if you need to talk.”

Trick opened his mouth, and then closed it.  Finally, “Thanks.  Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“I never liked him,” Jaal rumbled.  “He was a criminal.  Not a trustworthy individual.  But he made you smile.  I am sorry also.”

“Twisty bastard,” Drack added.  “Kinda respect that.  He almost won.  Sorry you got hurt though.  I’ll beat him up for you if you want.”

“No that’s...that’s okay.  Thanks.  To everyone.  Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, as he sat on the edge of his bed slipping out of his shoes, his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the whiskey bottle.  It still hurt.  A lot.  But a little of the cold sickness had gone out of it.

[jameswrites]

Vitamixed Messages

TW: blatant yet subtle transphobia and cruelty by someone who no doubt considered themselves helpful to me.

Sometimes, kind people are cruel and misinformed.

Vitamix blenders look absolutely incredible. They have blunt "blades" that the Costco demonstrator allowed me to touch and I found out that they were blunt because they used the force of fast rotations instead of sharp cuts to break everything apart.

She gave us a smoothie that was made of even peels, stems, and seeds of oranges, raspberries, and strawberries, though the bananas were peeled (perhaps that would have been too weird to peel). 

I went back from the next snack station to go tell the woman that she was a fantastic salesperson because frankly, I had just wanted a smoothie because I was hungry and the idea that the peels stayed on was weird and disconcerting, yet the smoothie itself was amazing.

So she pulls us even further in, shows us that this blender can make soup. Tortilla soup is the recipe she picked as she wove a narrative around us, told us her hopes and dreams (spread knowledge about the truth and become a raw vegan chef).

I said I liked that it tells you exactly how many carbs are in a thing because I'm diabetic and that's important for me. She told me that if I went on a vegan diet and cut out all my animal kinds of milk and meats, I wouldn't have to be diabetic anymore. I rolled my eyes a bit, sighed and shut down a narrative of reversing my diabetes (Type 1) by saying that while I have a single cousin who changed their eating habits and lost weight and this helped them reverse their Type 2, this was not something mine could have happen. She pushed, but I pushed back.

It was a commonly experienced microaggression of a distinctly ableist flavor, but I mostly ignored it with the focus on the Vitamix blender and how it made a soup in less than 2 minutes, when all we had done was put in hot water and several raw vegetables, a single vegan bullion cube, and finally a few tortilla chips. The soup warmed my soul.

During this all, she spoke so convincingly, with conviction in this product. But in between, she peppered her narrative with personal information that made me feel like I got her. And I shared back and told her things about me.

It's funny. I even recognized out loud that she was a salesperson at one point, I said, "you're a very impressive salesperson, I just came over to tell you how good and impressive it was how you made that smoothie including everything on the fruits and it was still fantastic."

"Well I'm not a salesperson, I'm just presenting it to you, you're the one selling it to yourself. I truly believe if you believe in a product like this, you'll be able to tell people about it like I do."

I believe her. She believes in this product and it showed in every single thing she said about it.

So I laughed and said when selling things myself I'd definitely be using that phrase because it was eloquent.

We chat, and she offers a bit of British bite with a teasing smile and I offered it back with that same sensation of camaraderie.

My roommates and I agreed to buy a blender, and she kept talking to us as she helped us get it into our cart. She came out, told me I look adorable, said that my shirt looked vintage and that she likes vintage things as well.

So I got excited, showed her an image of myself when I used to wear vintage 1950s inspired dresses. She smiled and nodded and seemed to really like what I showed her, said I was just so adorable.

I agreed. I don't give compliments in vain. My problem is I assume no one else does either, so perhaps it's just naivete, perhaps it's vanity, but flattery works well on me.

I still believe she said what she meant.

She hugged us all, shared the dream that she wants to start a vegan restaurant. I hope she does someday. I don't hate her.

She said that to reward us for buying one she'd make a coffee drink for us. So she went and grabbed some coconut milk, some Starbucks coffee crystals, ice, and figs. It was a tasty drink, and in that time a few people came by and I talked to those people about how happy I thought I was going to be with our new Vitamix. 

This woman had my trust, and maybe that’s a sign of my naivete. Maybe that’s a sign that I’m a child at heart, looking for a kindly older person to be in my life because I so rarely got that growing up. I don’t know what it is.

All I know is that when she asked me about what I did and I said I was in college, she talked about “sheeple” and I started to feel a bit odd, but I nodded along and started to make noises that we had frozen food that we needed to take care of, and how I was pleased with my English teacher because he made us actually think critically in our writing, he asked us to look at stats and analyze them, and then he peeled back bias and said, here is how that stat lied to you, and here is how you allowed it to lead you. Stats are not everything, and if you don’t know how they were sourced, they might be tainted by misleading things such as a small scope, a source that doesn’t represent the whole, and simple biases that leads to skewed results.

And she glowed at this, she seemed so happy when I told her that my teacher wasn’t on the agenda train, he was trying to keep it out, so he could teach us to pull things apart from ourselves. I try to do what he said to do already, but having a teacher explain how to do it is invaluable.

And she asked for my phone, she asked directly for me to pull it out. So I did because I liked her, but as I did, I said that I really needed to keep moving soon, because again, frozen treats in the cart. So she types in “The age of Deceipt” which was a misspelling, but it got her where she wanted to go. It brought her, on my phone, to a video. 

( I know those words are likely hard to read, I took screen caps blended together on my phone and they were grainy. I don’t know how to fix that, but I also refuse to link to the video itself and give it any more views. Needless to say, if you can’t read these comments, the comments were repulsive and based on speculation of a most cruel nature, even the ones who talk about how the Lord Jesus Christ will save you--after mentioning that you know, drag was something that one needed saving from.)

And I walked away seeing that this was the title of the video. We got one hallway away and I started to read the comments after laughing to myself "surely, that weird bit of conspiracy about 9/11 and how coffee really works and about how to cure my chronic illnesses, surely she's still nice just a little bit odd. So TRANSAgenda isn't about trans people.”

But if you look at the comments, it absolutely is. People refer to the queens in England as men, say it’s so good to know the truth. Talk about gender in reprehensible terms. Talk about us like we’re repulsive like we’re breaking society. It’s heavily right-wing Christian bent in the comments, and maybe the video itself isn’t, but I hardly believe that on account of those comments being the norm in the video. And on account of the video name.

So I ask quietly, shaking voice and hands if we can put the blender back. I don’t want to give her a sales, even though I want the blender. Even though I don’t want to deprive my roommates of such a spoon-saving machine.

They agree with absolutely no fight. They take it out, and we set it down, and one of them suggested that we could go back and tell her what was wrong and why that cruel video among such sweet smiles and gentle hugs was horrible, but I was dissociating and barely present anymore. I begged not to go, not to have to talk to her.

I don’t remember much else after that, until we got to the car and I was shaking and couldn’t handle that someone who had been so sweet, so considerate, someone who hugged me and said that I really made her night better, could give me a video that tore me down to my core in such a vicious “well-meaning” way.

At the car, I got my courage back, I thought. I had written an essay on what it meant to be trans. I wanted to show her. I wanted to let her know. So I asked my friends to take me back in, please. And I got about to the electronics section before I was shaking, my voice cracked, and I could barely stand without feeling sick. I asked a woman who worked there to help me, please, because I-I could barely handle going to the person who had sent me such a passive-aggressive and vicious video.

It’s terrifying when you think someone gets you, and isn’t one of those allies, and instead they take your trust, they mold it, and so very quickly they slam you down and tell you that not only are you not trans, you’re just another sheeple, a person who can learn to stop being trans, if only you can just do the right things. Maybe I could become vegan. Maybe I could do yoga. Maybe I could meditate, maybe I could do all those things and stop being trans, stop being wrong.

But I am not wrong. How dare she put those lies into my phone, so callously and casually hurt me on the same breath of saying how much she trusts me to learn going forward. How dare.

And then I take a breath and realize that it’s over. It’s allowed to hurt, and then I can put it in my mind’s trunk. I can hide it away, understand that it hurts, but that it’s not the end. None of this is the end. Not even the shit that hurts the most, the betrayal in my life by people much closer to me than that.

But the comments told me otherwise. Over and over as we walked down the hall towards the end of Costco, my stomach twisted. I trusted her, this kind old woman with a British accent, I'd thought she had some off ideas but that's the thing, you can have off ideas and still be great. She might be great, but that tainted everything for me.

I dissociated. I stopped thinking. I asked for the Vitamix to be removed from the cart, adding hastily that I still wanted one, I just couldn’t personally give her a commission like that with such a blunt yet powerful blow of being so kind, so sweet, so considerate, so cruel.

I couldn’t feel angry, or sad, or anything. Then I felt it all, swirling, scary, I thought I might collapse.

I remember that we checked out, but I was mentally checked out and didn’t notice it until we were outside, in the hot sun with sleeves on that made me realize just how much I had sweat.

I went to the car dimly, following my roommates directions on where it was because I was lost in thought, my emotions, and in the lot itself. When we got to the car, something about sitting woke my brain up. I said, “No. I want to go back. I want to show her my essay about being trans, maybe she’ll understand it. I want her to understand how what she did, it was cruel. It was taking my identity and making it a conspiracy for entertainment value.”

I was stumbling and stuttering and shaky in my hands as I prepared to go inside. At the door, I realized I couldn’t do it, but I felt too scared to go back to the car, especially now that I made a big deal about going inside. So I kept on, but the first person I saw, in the electronics department, she was so helpful when I stopped and told her, “Please, it’s not in this department, but someone was cruel to me, and I wanted to talk to them about it but I just can’t, can you please call a manager for me?” 

I wanted water, normally I carry some, but I was parched and dry and sweating out everything as my body shook and my voice cracked due to nerves and hormones. I wanted to cry, again, but the rest of my body disagreed with me and it was somehow more humiliating to not. 

A manager came and he listened and empathetically nodded, confirmed that it wasn’t ok, that nothing like this should happen in a store, and he’d do what he could. He valued my story, he listened, and I felt respected again, a band-aid over a burn. I still wanted to cry, but at least there was a stranger in this situation who I didn’t feel was manipulating me.

The worst part about this, is I think she meant all the things she said, including the compliments. I think those were sincere, and she also simultaneously held that I was someone who was working on critical thinking (check) who is trans (check) and who had nodded [nervously] to her conspiracy theories (check). 

I didn’t go in to get her fired.

And also, if someone else told me that they had been treated like that, I wouldn’t say, “Oh, don’t talk to the manager, that’ll get her fired!” because that’s garbage advice and if she gets fired that’s on her.

So why do I feel so guilty, swimming in my own head as though I am the problem?

Oh, right, because it’s a conspiracy that trans people are the problems here.

And it’s a fact that cis people hurting us, killing us, raping us, torturing us, denying us, ignoring us, it’s a fact that this is a problem, in this world, in these times.

But she couldn’t see that. 

My therapist said that it’s ok that I have a wildly different view of how things ended (before the manager was involved.) They said that yes, she said that I made her entire afternoon better, but she hadn’t been aggressed upon. I listened, she told. I went away feeling sick, because she hurt me under the guise of caring and I have PTSD specifically related to that.

Either way, it hurts a lot.

Because for every comment I read, I could feel a bit more vitriol from the world, chopped bluntly at high speeds as my heart raced and I felt like I'd fall into a pile and be liquid on the floor.

It’s funny. I still want a Vitamix. I still think it’s a great product. She really is good at putting on a show and letting me sell it to myself. But we can buy one for so much cheaper online from the company itself, and so eventually it will. It’s going to save so many spoons.

But the trauma of this took so many away, it’ll be a while before that is made up for.

[daimonic-clown]

Peering to the Future

His hands were around her throat, and he only increased the pressure. At first, there was resistance, even attempts at desperate words. First, insults, then pleading. The begging lowered and lowered until there was nothing but choking, and attempts at breath that were met with no success.

"Thalin... Thalin please... try to understand..."

A voice came from deeper within his head, saying the same phrase over and over again.

Kill her. Kill her. Kill her. She betrayed you, Thalin. Now kill her. Secure your fate. Embrace your destiny like every Sunstalker.

There was no more words of resistance, soon. The woman’s face turned purple, and she was spent. The last image Thalin saw before the vision became blank was a mirror in front of the woman -- he had strangled her in front of a vanity -- and he saw himself. His eyes, glowing purple, skin tingling with a similarly colored magic.

He looked angry, and had no remorse for the murder. He could barely recognize the woman, anyways. Furthermore, he could barely recognize himself.

Thalin opened his eyes carefully, and was greeted by a splitting headache. It truly felt as though someone had driven a nail into his head by hammer. He groaned, and shifted his position, sitting up in his bed. He nudged a body near him, and shivered in a bit of shock.

He remembered quick enough that he had company over the night. For the life of him, though, he could not remember her name. It was not exactly her name that mattered. More so the “company” part.

Though whenever these dreams struck Thalin, he often did not resolve to taking advantage of this sort of situation. He first immediately considered contemplation. As usual, it was a disturbing dream that unnerved him to his core. Though he often dreamed vaguely of events in the past. Things that had not happened, possibilities with immensely dark tones.

Just coming to realize he was encroaching even more unfamiliar territory, he stopped himself, and got out of his bed. He was careful not to wake the stranger in his bed, and gathered his clothes. Then, his armor. He was suited in plate that covered most of his body, only his arms were uncovered somewhat as to assist in proper quick movement.

He then made his way out, and immediately saw her sitting on a decorative chair, her back to the door. She sipped from a glass full of clear water. When Thalin stepped out, her ears flicked.

“Prompt as always, Thalin,” Valowyn said.

Thalin sighed loudly, and stepped beside Valowyn. He saw now that she was sifting through papers intently, and had handed him three. “How long have you been here?”

“Couple minutes, I figured you were sleeping in. Long night?”

“Long dream,” Thalin corrected.

 “Bad ones?” She asked, glancing upwards. “You aren’t testing the products, are you?”

“Not when I expect to work the following day,” he gave a chuckle that Valowyn did not find quite as funny.

As a matter of fact, Valowyn replied seriously with, “Your mother makes the claim bad dreams run in the Sunstalker family, not hers. Your father... well, he said nothing, as he usually does.”

Thalin had heard the same thing from his mother. Though he never fully knew what it meant. His father had not spoken a word for as long as Thalin could remember -- mute, entirely. Most believed that his father was insane for this, though Thalin truly believed something had taken his voice from him. Perhaps out of shock, or maybe he was always that way, from birth.

Valowyn did not linger on the subject, however, knowing it was a sensitive subject. So she returned to business, something that could properly distract Thalin.

“A couple of things, Thalin. Three, as a matter of fact.”

Thalin shifted through each of the papers and skimmed them. There was a name on each one that he recognized immediately. There was no need for a briefing. So he perked one of his brows and asked, “You’re going to explain each of them this time? I know these saps, I’ll handle it.”

“No, that’s one thing. Deal with them how you see fit, that’s why I delivered them all at once -- these are not any special people. Just be sure they’re fit enough to pay.”

“So that’s one, what’s two and three?” Thalin looked to Valowyn, and she uncrossed her legs, and placed her hands on her knees. She was wearing a simple tunic and clean, blue pants. It was clear she was still uncomfortable with the prospect, likely being far more used to robes, but throughout working with the Sunstalkers, she was urged to be more casual. Though that was not why she sighed, and placed a hand on Thalin’s arm.

“Sit down a second, Thalin.”

“Oh shit -- what is it?”

“Nothing, nothing, I swear.” She was an awful liar -- or perhaps Thalin was good at catching lies? He suspected the aforementioned more so. He sat anyways, however, sitting up in the chair, tense with expectation.

“Your family wants to hire more for your end of things. A bookkeeper, and one you should become... well, acquainted with.”

“Some bastard to dig around our numbers? Something like that could get us in trouble, since they’ll know the inner-workings of things. We’ve discussed this, Valowyn.”

“No,” Valowyn retorted, “I’ve heard you deny this and shoot it down before I have the chance to state my case. Now, you have no choice.” Valowyn sighed again, and leaned forward, “Thalin, hear me out.”

Thalin tried leaning back, but still looked tense as all hell. His shoulders were up, and hands gripped his knees tight. He looked ready to fight this.

“Your leadership,” Valowyn started, her tone reflecting seriousness, both of empathetic and blunt at the same time -- something Thalin came to appreciate, “has been wonderful throughout the years.” She held a hand out, as if counting each of their accomplishments.

“We’ve quadrupled sales, gained a reputation that is indestructible, we have loyal customers in some of the most renowned families of Silvermoon, and we’ve moving our businesses beyond these walls. All because we decided to be here, instead of scuffling about in troll hovels.”

Thalin nodded, and rotated his jaw. He relaxed a bit realizing he could not fight that.

“The woman I seek to begin her job, she... is trusted. My only concern is she is not as hardened as you or I, Thalin. She can do her job, but we will have to bring her up. It is essential for the future of this business.”

There was a pause, a long one. Thalin seemed to think on it. It felt longer than it actually was, for a strength of Thalin’s was fast decision making. Thirty seconds, and no longer passed before he said, “Then you bring her up, and I’ll be sure she’s suitable.”

“It’s decided, then.” Valowyn said.

“The final bit?”

“Right,” Valowyn said, swallowing loudly. Thalin tried to stand, but Valowyn placed a hand on his arm, signaling him to stay seated. “You might want to stay seated for this, too.”

Thalin, this time, was relaxed entirely. Valowyn, however, was not. She rubbed her head.

“Word has gotten out that the human kingdoms are in shambles, Thalin. Plague ravages their land, and the dead rise and attack the living.” She looked at Thalin, and finished her words with, “This could bode unwell for us. Our efforts have redirected to organizing humanitarian assignments -- militaristic supplies in case the worst happens, and Quel’thalas has to fight this. We have a contract signed by Dath’remar Sunstrider himself.”

Thalin nodded his head in understanding.

“If this goes well, the future of the Sunstalker family, and all it pursues, will be undeniable. Certainly the humans will find a way to recover from this, as well, for without their aid we cannot--”

“We can survive without the humans,” Thalin said, bluntly.

“Cell...” She resorted to calling him by his other nickname to break past the rough exterior. It often worked -- it was an established agreement that only the trusted could refer to him as ‘Cell’, referencing the first half of his name. Cellan’thalin. Most barely knew his full name, and simply called him Thalin.

Thalin exhaled and rubbed his head. He uttered out, trying and failing to restrain his sarcasm, “Long live Lordaeron, right?” He then stood himself up, glancing at the papers in his hands again, “I should get on this, now. I’ll meet with the bookkeeper tonight?”

Valowyn nodded, seeming a bit distracted. “She turned down Dalaran so she may study the Light, and now she has agreed to work with us in favor of the Light itself.”

“So a faithful one, hm? Now I see why you’ve warned me.”

“Be nice,” Valowyn warned. “Don’t give her a damn reason to use numbers against us.”

As Thalin started to leave, Valowyn said one last thing, “Right, and visit your parents, too, your mother had something to tell you. Something important, it seemed.”

Thalin left attempting to shake off attempts to understand that dream. He wondered if he should try telling his father? Thalin could not help but cling to a hope that maybe, just maybe, his father would spout out words finally in an attempt to understand it all as much as his son had.

Though it all had to be thought another time. For now, the less savory work of the business had to be finished. Even with a substance that was not addictive entirely, there were still deadbeats unwilling to pay. And to offer loans so fast and readily available, there were pompous sorts who did not remember who brought them their good fortune, expensive houses, and valuable trinkets.

It was not their significant others, oh no.

It was the Sunstalker family.