#i always feel like some sort of backup in damn near every part of my life

[sugar-coated-galaxies]

Lil vent post bc I just. Need to get it out ig

[brandyllyn]

In our own image... (02)

Chapter 2

(Poe Dameron x OFC)

Other chapters...  My Masterlist

Word count: 2200. Read it on AO3.

Rating: Teen & Up (PG) No warnings?

Kina brushed her hair away from her face with the back of one hand, holding the tool in it well away from her face. She’d burnt herself one too many times with a soldering iron to not be careful of the thing now. She wouldn’t even have risked it except that her other hand was occupied holding part of the droid’s circuitry together and if her hair continued to fall as it was she was going to set it on fire.

She waited a moment, then added another bit of solder. "There," she whistled and sat back, dropping the tool back into its cradle. "How do you feel?"

The little round droid flashed through a series of colors before spinning in place. "Much better thank you."

Kina smiled and patted the droid. When they had first arrived they had been full of long, pitiful stories about being shot at by tie-fighters and then covered in sand and tar and something that sounded like saliva. Amid the telling, BB-8 kept mournfully beeping that they were not functioning optimally, as though they were revealing some great secret.

It had been cute. In fact, it had been really cute. Enough so that she had actually missed the arrival of the droid’s companion. It didn’t matter, as he had only wanted to talk to K-0 - which was odd but also fine by her. There was something about being unable to to speak Basic that made people assume she lacked intelligence. Anytime she could avoid talking to people entirely was better off all around. It didn’t really matter that he was easy on the eyes.

As soon as the man was gone the BB unit had proceeded to tell her story after story of Friend Poe. Even when she had half the droid’s panels off and was doing a deep clean, BB-8 kept up an endless chatter about how Friend Poe always made sure that they were clean and functioning well. And how sad Friend Poe had been that he couldn’t take good care of the BB unit on Ajan Kloss.

The information had made Kina feel marginally more gracious towards the pilot. BB-8 was in bad shape, and not all pilots were known for taking good care of their droids. Most seemed to see the units as expendable.

"BB-8," she whistled, ending in a series of clicks, "why do you call him Friend Poe and not Master?"

"Friend Poe asked me to," BB-8 whistled back. "Friend Poe does not like being called Master."

Kina tilted her head, studying the BB unit. That was… interesting information to have. Basic droid programming defaulted to the use of the honorific 'Master' for their owners. The only people she knew of who made an effort to change it were other droidsmiths, like herself. You could often follow the trail of a droid’s repairs based on the terms they used. Some went for gentler monikers, like Friend. Others went ever further past Master. Hells, Hukkin, on Tattooine, taught his droids to call him 'Oh Great One,' which was a bit of an ego stretch but he was also a damned good droidsmith and he had a gentle touch with them. He also had as great of a hatred for restraining bolts as Kina herself so she only barely faulted him for it.

She was so lost in thought she nearly missed the droid’s sudden movement. She barely had time to throw an arm across the table to stop the droid from leaving. "Whoa there little one," she whistled and clicked, "I’m not done with you yet. Let me get you put back together and then you can go back to Friend Poe. Okay?"

The droid settled back, turning their upper unit to her. "Okay."

Snorting, Kina glanced behind her, then up into the rafters. Once she’d gotten the BB unit cleaned out there was a maze of wiring and 'improvements' that she’d needed to sort through. Friend Poe had apparently been doing his own repairs which was… well she knew why people did it but Chasī above - she didn’t try to fly X-Wings, why did people think that just anyone could repair a droid?

She clicked her tongue, "K-0?"

The droid darted out from a small gap between the crates. They were always doing that, finding weird little bolt holes to go exploring. "Where are the converters? The 600 series."

K-0 immediately crossed the floor, bumping into a crate to Kina’s left. She squatted to read the lowest crate before moving to the next. The one she wanted was about three up, with two more stacked on top of it. Two heavy ones. Sighing, she gave herself the mental 'lift with you knees' reminder and started to shift the upper crates away.

"Hello?"

She dropped the crate, jumping back and letting out a sharp whistle. Behind her, she could hear BB-8 trilling happily. "Hello friend! I am much improved since you last saw me."

"Hey BB," the voice said and Kina turned to it. A young woman was cautiously standing near the entrance to the workshop. "May I come in?"

As was their usual wont, K-0 happily translated the woman’s words directly into binary. It was a programming flaw, one that Kina hadn’t been able to fix without wiping the droid’s entire core memory. And she wasn’t going to do that. No harm in letting the droid chatter to themself.

Kina nodded at the woman, gesturing to the BB unit to let her know she could approach them if she wanted to. The woman did, running a hand along the droid in a familiar greeting. "Hey there big guy."

"Friend Rey, I am enthusiastic to see you. Have you met new friend?" BB-8 beeped at her, flashing their recently cleaned lights.

"I haven’t met your friend yet," the woman turned with a smile and held out her hand. "I’m Rey."

Kina stopped thumbing through the crate’s contents to hold out a hand, palm turned open and upwards to show she had no weapon.  She whistled at K-0, who translated for her. "This Kina."

Rey’s gaze swung between her and K-0 and Kina waited for her question. It was the same every time. "It’s nice to meet you Kina."

Okay, so maybe not the same. Rey smiled at her and Kina couldn’t help but return it. Then she turned to BB-8. Clicking to get their attention she told them, "I have a new memory convertor for you, but you’re going to need to power down completely so I can be sure this gets transferred correctly. May I do that?"

"I will not lose memories will I friend?"

Kina smiled, patting the droid reassuringly. "I promise you won’t lose a thing. I am very good at this."

BB-8 nodded it’s top unit before beginning a full power down. Kina waited, aware of the presence of the woman at her side. The slight furrowing of her brow.

"You speak Binary?" Rey asked.

Yep, there it was. Kina nodded, tilting her chin at K-0 before replying in a series of whistles and tongue clicks. "I understand Basic, but I don’t speak it." The droid translated for her almost simultaneously, which was immensely helpful, but their language processor left a little to be desired. It was necessary - otherwise K-0 was prone to add their own… color to the conversation. But her sentence ended up becoming "Know Basic. Can’t speak."

"That’s… I’ve never met any life form that spoke Binary. I thought only droids could." Rey sounded a little awe-struck which was the only reason that Kina didn’t start into her usual speech about the ill-defined lines between those who were considered alive and those who weren’t.

"It’s not perfect," she said instead, listening to K-0 translate about half of what she was saying, "it can take some units a little getting used to, especially the older ones, but I get by."

BB-8 was done powering down, slumped on the table, and Kina pulled a stool up to the workstation, swinging a looking glass down and turning on one of the brighter lights. She felt, more than saw, Rey pull up a stool next to her.

"Do you mind if I watch?" Rey asked, hesitation in her voice.

Kina gave her a sideways look and then shrugged. "Doesn’t bother me."

As she worked, Kina could feel Rey leaning in closer, trying to peer through the magnifying lens. After a minute Kina reached up and swung it slightly towards the other woman. Then she began to speak, listening to K-0 mangle the full meaning but getting the gist of it.

"The thing about a memory converter is that it’s all about the order. Most people don’t realize that. They think if you backup the unit then you can be sloppy about the part replacement," Kina pointed with a set of pliers at the bundle of wires she was poking into. "Each of these has a specific function. They’re like nerves of a body. I can replace one from one part of your body to another, but it will be different. It won’t feel the same." Kina gently nudged the bundle, pulling one free, and then another. "But if you do that too much or too often the whole system won’t work."

Next to her Rey nodded, eyes focused on Kina’s work. She’d never had an audience before, and she appreciated the other woman’s quiet presence beside her. There was something about Rey that was comforting - something she hadn’t felt since she’d left home.

"There," Kina clicked, setting the unit back into its place inside the droid, tightening the braces that held it. Over an hour had gone by and she stretched, feeling bones crack and rumble as she did so. "That should do it."

Tapping the droid’s power panel in a staccato series she felt the low vibration begin and then the top unit slid so that it was completely upright. "Friend!" BB-8 trilled, turning its photoreceptor to look at both Rey and Kina. "Friends!"

"Welcome back small one," Kina whistled. "How do you feel?"

"All systems functioning optimally!" BB-8 replied, spinning in place before wobbling slightly back and forth.

Kina raised an eyebrow, giving the droid a dubious look. "Are you sure your orbiculate motor is functioning correctly?"

"It’s odd," Rey said from beside her, "It’s as though I’m listening to someone speak in a dream. I feel like I should know what you’re saying, like the meaning is right on the tip of my tongue. But I just can’t get there."

Kina jerked her head to Rey, looking down and realizing that K-0 had disappeared at some point. She turned back to the droid on the table, "BB-8 can you repeat what I say in Binary please?"

"BB-8 can you repeat what I say in Binary please?" The droid parroted before titling to look at her. "Friend, for what purpose is this? You are speaking in Binary."

"Yes, but Friend Rey does not understand me," Kina told them. "BB-8 I’d like to check your orbiculate motor. I don’t like the look of that wobble."

"Oh, he does that when he’s happy," Rey interjected, looking between the two of them.

Kina looked at her, then back at BB-8. "Is this true? Do you move like this when you are happy?"

BB-8 flashed their lights, repeating what Kina said before adding, "I am functioning optimally and I am enthusiastic to be doing so."

Kina raised an eyebrow before gesturing at the table, "Can you get down on your own?"

Rather than replying, the orange droid rolled towards the ramp, hitting the floor at a steady clip and circling between the two women a few times before settling to a stop. "All systems are functioning optimally!"

Rey laughed and Kina felt her own shoulders shaking. It was hard not to be amused. BB-8 rolled over, bumping into Kina’s shins and she squatted down to eye level to the droid’s photoreceptor.

"I may return to Friend Poe?" The droid asked.

"If something happens to you between here and there Friend Poe will be very upset with me," Kina started but felt a hand on her shoulder.

"I’ll make sure BB gets back to him, I’m going that way." The woman smiled at her and Kina smiled back standing and leaning against the table.

"Well as long as it’s on your head…"

As she trailed off Kina heard a thump, and then K-0 was back, translating her whistles into Basic even as BB-8 repeated it in Binary. The two droids looked at each other and then K-0 knocked roughly into the larger droid.

"No. Go. No. Bad." K-0 said quickly, continuing to ram into the other droid. BB-8 tilted his upper unit at them quizzically but was barely shifted by the smaller droid’s efforts.

"You two should go," Kina grinned, "before K-0 decides to bite someone."

Thankfully, BB-8 continued to repeat her words because K-0 just kept thumping into the droid, repeating "Go. Bad. Go. No. Bad."

Rey smothered a laugh, ducking around the crates to the front of the workshop, BB-8 close behind her. A few seconds later her head popped back around. "May I visit again?"

Kina nodded and watched K-0 chase them off. When the droid returned, mumbling to themself, Kina blushed. Then she began scolding them, but her heart wasn’t really in it. After a minute she dropped to one knee, stroking a finger along the side of her friend.

"No one will replace you K-0. I promise."

=

Chpt 3

[vegalocity]

Seperated (Red Groom AU)

The part of the Albino will now be played by -drumroll- Jin and Yin is that even a question? of course its Jin and Yin.

Also i rewatched this sequence a few times to get the dialogue right and... Am I on glue or are Humperdink and Count Rugen like... kinda into eachother?

--

Xiaotian awoke with pain. He pulled a hiss between his teeth as a rag—no doubt drenched with cleaning fluids for how much it stung—was pressed to his shoulder. The room he was in was dim when he forced his eyes open, but soon his gaze was met with the red eyes of a silver skinned demon.

“Who-” he croaked. “Where am I?”

“The pit of despair.” The demon hissed, his voice raspy and dim, it reminded Xiaotian of the whispers of a ghost. On some level it made him nervous. “Don't even think-”

“Yin, you gotta stay away from the guy while he's still injured, brother. You sound like a nightmare warmed over.” a far more normal voice made itself known, and Xiaotian watched a golden demon that other than the change in coloration seemed near identical to the silver one entered his vision.

“But Jin I-” The silver demon, Yin apparently, gasped. “Come on, I NEVER get to be the ominous assistant!”

“You're still ill, If you mess up the experiment by getting the prisoner sick Macaque is gonna ACTUALLY kill you, and I don't wanna be an only child.”

Yin huffed and puffed.

“Maybe he should go home.” Xiaotian offered weakly. Less guards meant less people to fight while he escaped after all.

“Pssh!” the gold brother, Jin apparently, waved a hand. “Like we'd EVER- Nah he's just gotta leave prisoner interactions to me. Speaking of!” He snagged the clean rag from his brother's hand. “You'd rather be treated by the one that ISN'T actively sick right now, wouldn't ya, prisoner?”

Yin let out a series of sneezes that nearly seemed to knock him off his feet. So Xiaotian was thankful when he finally shrugged and went over to a worktable while Jin leaned over and went to applying the cleaning fluid on his wound.

“Like my brother was saying though, don't even think to try and escape. Those chains could hold down the Monkey King, they're that strong.” The irony of that statement was lost on Jin, Xiaotian hadn't been in his monkey disguise when they'd captured him, it was unlikely anyone knew of his ruse. Even Red Son while surrendering (his heart still hurt at the memory of defeat in his voice) had been nonspecific about WHAT nearby mountain was his.  “And the entrance is like, super secret too, like top secret. Only the Boss, the Prince, and my brother and I know where it is, and Yin didn't even pay attention when we were being shown the way.”

“It was boring!” Yin defended himself from across the room. “You were barely paying attention yourself!” Jin turned around and likely made an ugly face at his brother, whom quickly returned it with one of his own, before he turned back to Xiaotian.

“You're gonna die down here my good fellow.”

“Then why heal my wounds?”

“I 'unno. The boss tells us he likes his test subjects in tip tops before he messes them up.”

“We generally leave between 'experiments'” Yin added on, before letting out a loud grunt as he moved some heavy looking contraption across the area. “He's like.... Super creepy when he gets into it. Gives Jin the willies.”

“Honestly there are some times when I can't remember why we even work for him.” Jin agreed with a visible shudder and a shake of his head.

“Cuz mother said she would force us out of the house if we didn't find work, and he pays well.”

“Oh yeah, that.”

He wasn't paying much attention to the brother's banter, he'd already put together what matters.

“So they're going to torture me down here?”  Jin hummed in agreement as he continued to clean him up of left over blood. “I can handle torture.”

Yin let out a raspy laugh that was somehow less disturbing than the audible shudder that went up Jin's spine.

“Look, my man, you're new here, you don't know.” There was something close to pity in Jin's voice and it almost immediately set off every alert in Xiaotian's nervous system. “that machine they rig people up to, it's no joke. We only heard the damn thing a few times and it's really, REALLY bad.”

“I still get nightmares!” Yin agreed.

But then Jin had finished cleaning up his wounds and went over to aid his brother in whatever he was doing moving things around, leaving Xiaotian to his thoughts.

Something so bad that it made demons recoil in fright? What sort of horror display was he in for? That Six-Eared Macaque did seem the sadistic type, but what did that entail?

He had to get out of here. He tested the chains, but no dice, his arm was still injured though the bleeding had stalled, and he was strapped down with both hands nearer his waist than his head so he couldn't even try to summon some backup in the form of a clone. And his shapeshifting was still rudimentary at best, he couldn't do any forms that would change his size quite yet and that was the one thing that could help him break out of here!

He'd have to stay put for just a little longer at least until he could figure something out.

At this point the Prince wasn't likely to kill Red Son until they were already married, and though his heart ached at the idea of his love being forced to play along with that cruel beast's games until he found a way around it, or managed to escape on his own—as he knew that he would at this point. Now that he knew that Red Son's heart had remained true, and Red Son knew he was alive, he knew his love would stop at nothing to get out of this arrangement and find him again, he was far too clever to simply go along with this and hope that those mercenaries were wrong or deceitful—he could find him on his own.

He knew he would. Red Son was far too intelligent for anything else.

–

Within three days time the Prince's father had died. And on that very night he and Red Son were married.

It was the day after the ceremony and Red Son, now a married man, was to be prepared not to be a demon king in his own right like he'd always assumed but-

–

“What? That's not right! Grandpa you're telling the story wrong!”

“What do you mean, little one?”

“Red Son doesn't marry the prince he marries Xiaotian! He's his true love not the prince!”

“But Red Son turned himself in to the Prince to save Xiaotian's life, remember?”

“But! But after the Forest-! And everything Xiaotian did to get back and save him from the mercenaries-!  After everything he did he doesn't even get to marry him in the end?! That's so unfair!”

“Whoever said life was fair? Where'd it ever get written down that life was fair?”

“B-But! But! Xiaotian is still in the Pit of Despair! He needs Red Son to save him like he saved him! ”

“You wanna know how this ends or not?”

“...Yes...”

“Thought so. No more interruptions, alright? Where was I...-”

–

-It was the day after the ceremony and Red Son, now a married man, was to be prepared not to be a demon king in his own right like he'd always assumed but the husband of another. And as such he didn't know his new court anywhere near as intimately as he did his own back home. So he was taken to oversee the goings on of this court and acquaint himself with the advisers and nobles within.

He was dressed now not in the warm tones that his family was known for, but the cool pale purples of his husband's own court and in his own opinion, it clashed horribly with his hair, if it were a darker purple maybe, but this simply wasn't a good shade for him.

But that was just one in a long, long line of things that were wrong about this situation, so he did his best to appear the unflappable demon prince he once was.

Examining the court before him he could only compare it to the one he knew back home, and in many ways he found it much the same. The same types of sniveling yes-men, the same kinds of conniving power-seekers, and the same sort of surprisingly wise elders.

And then just three steps away from him, one of the advisers snickered. A cruel, twisted sound, a mocking laugh.

Red Son... was on a bit of a hair trigger for obvious reasons and whirled around at the noise, approaching the previously assumed sniveling coward, and feeling his hair light aflame behind him.

“Is there a problem?” He tried to make his voice as unshaken as possible, but the rage that was so quick to boil in his gut was difficult to contain.

“Oh no, your highness-” the adviser gave an melodramatic mocking bow. “No problems here, I simply find it funny how everyone else here seems to think you worth our respect!” The Demon loosed another gale of laughter and didn't seem the least bit frightened when Red Son reached forward and grabbed him by the collar. He didn't even seem surprised.

“What was that, you infernal garbage?!”

“The only garbage here is you, Red Son!” The Demon howled with laughter, before looking among his fellows, trying to gain support. “Can you all even believe it? This cold hearted princeling had true love in his hands and he let it go!” His gut dropped. “After everything Xiaotian did for you! To come back to find you! To save you and keep you alive when you couldn't even summon a candle's worth of flame in that forest and you repaid him by betraying him!”

The demon slipped from his slack grasp as he chortled, and Red Son found his limbs very weak indeed, his anger replaced by a cold, sick feeling.

“They were- He was going to kill Xiaotian, I had to-”

“Oathbreaker! Xioatian lives and you marry another! You had love in your hands and you treated it like garbage!” The demon leaned against the side of another adviser, whom seemed frozen in place. Much like how Red Son felt.

“Because that's what you are your highness! Garbage! Prince of all refuse!” The Demon shook his neighbor's shoulder. “Bow to him if you want! Go ahead! Bow to the prince of all slime! The prince of all filth! Prince of all putrescence!”  His laughter never once abated, and when the demon took a step toward Red Son, he instinctively backed away.

“An oathbreaking fool! That's what you are!”

“Muck! Filth! Coward!”

His laughter was piercing.

Red Son awoke with a startle, heart thumping in his chest and a cold sweat across his brow. The King was still alive and the wedding was ten days away, yet his nightmares were getting worse. And on this morning he came to one conclusion:

“I cannot afford to bide time any longer.”

–

“See? I told you he'd never marry that rotten prince!”

“Yes you're very smart, shut up.”

–

As quick as he possibly could he changed from his sleep shirt into proper attire and began to plan his escape. His betrothed would attempt his life the second he let it slip that he knew of his plans, so he had to be quick, he had to be clever, and above all, he had to be sneaky.

He didn't know why his betrothed had decided to assume sincerity, but since he wasn't dead yet he could only guess that he was waiting until the wedding night to enact his plan and frame whoever he wanted to frame for Red Son's 'assassination'.

So he had ten days. Child's play, he could do it in three, tops.

The hard part would be keeping a low enough profile until he made it to Flower Fruit Mountain to evade whatever hunters his soon to be ex-fiance would send after him. How ironic, he thought to himself, that it was now his turn to make an impossible death defying escape and make his way back to his love.

He didn't have much by way of sewing skills, but the wardrobe of the rooms he was given had no mags with which to carry his supplies, so he had to make do with a spare blanket and what little he knew of hemming fabric until something resembling a traveling pack was made and ready.

It was about then that the prince made summons for him.

Red Son turned over what to do or say in his head as he approached the sitting room, and came to the conclusion that if he acted like he was alright with all of this then he would arouse suspicion. Red Son was well known for his temper, and he'd made it obvious that he had a love in Xiaotian. Though he'd willingly given himself up for his safety, the fact of the matter was that the prince had been willing to fight and hurt him, and if Red Son didn't already have plans to run then that would mean he'd be furious.

So he held himself as stiffly as possible and didn't hold back his scowl when the prince came into view.

“Ah! Beloved! How wonderful to see you!”

The prince seemed unshaken by Red Son's fury and remained unwavering as he stiffly marched over and sat across from him. It occurred to Red Son as he sat that the prince would likely expect him to try and call the wedding off at least once. He would do everything in his power to either try and convince Red Son to take back his announcement (he wouldn't be able to) or restrain him to the palace until he could force him to acquiesce.

“I refuse to lie to myself any longer.” He spoke only then, His betrothed's brow raised in curiosity. “I love Xiaotian, I have since long before my parents ever reached out to yours, and I always will.”

If anything this might be an interesting way to see if he's going to play along or not. “If I am forced to marry you in ten days you must understand that on the eleventh I will be dead.” There, if he set the assumed date afterward, then the Prince wouldn't think that he was moving the timetable of his own plans up-

“I could never cause you such greif.” He said after a sigh. “Consider the wedding off.”

He knew this was a ploy, he had a plan of some kind. But Still Red Son felt the tight clamps pressed to his chest loosen at the words being spoken aloud.

“You returned this 'Xiaotian' to his mountain?” The prince turned halfway and Red Son was startled to see the macaque standing in the shadows, he hadn't even seen him when he'd entered!

“I did.”

“Then we'll send a messenger for him.” They wouldn't. They'd sent Xiaotian back to Flower Fruit Mountain no doubt, lest they risked starting conflict with his own army. However Red Son knew the prince had no problems at all lying to him. Any messenger he oversaw a letter being handed off to would likely get out of sight and shred the note to bits before lying low for a time and returning. “But, Beloved, Can you be sure that he'd still take you back?”

The laughter of the demon in his dream echoed in the back of his mind. “What do you mean?”

“I simply mean that, it was you who did the leaving back in the forest.” Red Son couldn't fight back a flinch at the reminder. “And... kidnappers aren't exactly well known to keep their word.” Thankfully he didn't need to fake outrage.

“He didn't kidnap me!”

“Well... then may I suggest a deal?” The prince considered his tea before taking a sip. “How about this; I'll send my four fastest messengers along different routes to your Xiaotian's mountain, and you'll write four separate letters explaining the situation for them to deliver. To decrease the likeliness of the message getting lost due to bandits and the like. Your Xiaotian is sure to receive at least one of them by that. And if he accepts you back, then good fortune to you both.”

The Prince's brow furrowed with worry, and once again he reached out to try and take Red Son's hand. He pulled his hands back. “But if he doesn't, If your love decides this was one betrayal too many, then please at least consider me as an alternative to suicide.”

He was trying to get him to doubt himself, to doubt Xiaotian. Trying to put something like that in the back of his head so he'd be less convicted when he had some notary of some kind fake a letter of rejection.

“Are we agreed?”

“We are.”

He'd be gone in a few days time anyway. And if the prince was right, if Xiaotian did feel rejected and betrayed, and angry, and if he somehow did decide that he didn't want him back...

...then he'd just have to win his heart again. If that were the case it may be difficult, he hadn't exactly gone chasing him all that time ago in the Inn, He wasn't sure if he knew how. But he'd try, whatever it took.

He just had to get out of here first.

–

“You know, now that I've spent a time with the prince, I can see why so many other demon suitors were banging down his door for so long. A mote too angry for my own taste, but even for a more human-looking demon he's not too bad on the eyes.”

“Don't go falling in love with my groom Macaque. I'll not have you ruining my plans.”

“Pff! No worries there, highness.”

“...You know, when I'd hired the Spider Queen and her ilk to kill him on their way to my mountain I thought THAT was a work of genius, but it'll be so much more moving to cut his head off on our wedding night myself I do think.”

“His parents will be furious.”

“Especially once I blame the Monkey King when I send word to them about it! They'll insist on going to war and our combined forces will finally claim that eyesore of a mountain.”

“It's going to be a bloodbath.”

“Which I'm sure YOU'LL enjoy my six-eared friend.”

“Now.. where is that secret knot... damn thing's always changing locations I swear- Ah... Are you coming down? Xiaotian regained his strength, I'm going to be starting him on the machine tonight.”

“Macaque, You know how much I love watching you work; but I've two anniversaries for different alliances to plan the celebrations of, My wedding to arrange, my husband to murder, and the Monkey King to frame for it, I'm swamped!”

“Get some rest my prince. If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything.”

--

“I hate this, I hate this, I hate this.” Jin was mumbling over and over as he and Yin rolled the slab of wood Xiaotian had been strapped to this whole time across the ground, and up against an unmoving water wheel.

“By all means, quit if it upsets you so.” The Six Eared Macaque stated idly, and out of the corner of his eye Xiaotian could see him scribbling something down, some sort of notation.

“He doesn't mean that.” Yin assured his brother as he forced Xiaotian this way and that, tightening leather straps to his chest and head. Hollowed out iron funnels were affixed to small holes in the straps, the cone sides pressed to his skin while the nozzles were being slowly attached to a set of copper tubes. “He'd be without any assistants that can keep their mouths shut without us.”

He couldn't move with these stupid straps all up and down his body—well... he already couldn't move MUCH, but the lack of what little mobility he'd had from there lost further was upsetting.

“Got back to work you miscreants.” The macaque snapped before standing and approaching him. When those eerie purple eyes were peering down at him Xiaotian had the uncanniest of feelings that he was trying to look like the Monkey King.  Like some sort of crazy fan that wanted to steal his life or something. No wonder he hadn't realized that Xiaotian was actually disguising himself as such with Sun Wukong's blessing.

“Lovely machine isn't it? Been working on it for a solid century now.”  He patted the strange device affectionately, as though it were a beloved pet. “You probably know by now your 'love' isn't the only scientific mind among our kind. But where he's interested in any field of study he can get his hands on I'm more interested in... shall we say... the study of pain.”

“Made my living stealing other people's powers for my own ya see, and it's been fun, but it's maybe getting a bit old too. Because I've been doing that, basically my whole life, and I kinda wanted to change it up. So I decided to see how much I can make someone hurt. I'm still testing this thing out mind you, so...Be honest with how it feels, alright? It's for posterity's sake.

“Now, this being our first try, I'll ease you into it. We'll start on the first setting.”

Xiaotian tensed, steeling himself over for whatever pain would follow.

The Macaque pulled the lever-

The machine whirled to life-

And there was pain.

[inkweaver22-blr]

HOLY. MOLY.

This has to be the Lóng-est chapter I’ve written so far! It took me almost two whole days to complete!

Please enjoy the fruits of my labor as we all see what Tang gets up to next!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Seven: Scaled Siblings

Tang wakes up in Mei's mansion.

----------

Tang woke from the usual dream signaling the start of a new cycle when his alarm went off. With a sigh he sat up and reflexively clapped his hands. He blinked a bit in surprise when the lights turned on in response. He quickly put on his glasses and looked around.

The room he was in was not one he recognized. It was much larger than he was accustomed too, being the same size as either of the apartments he usually lived in. The opulent decorations also screamed wealth and old money to Tang, something he certainly never had.

As he climbed out of the king sized bed, Tang began to suspect where he was. The amount of green accents and jade adornments everywhere made it fairly obvious.

He was in the Lóng family’s mansion.

Shivering a bit as he rubbed his bare arms, (apparently this version of himself slept shirtless), he quickly made his way over the huge mirror that was standing upright in between a fancy dresser and antique armoire. He needed to know what was going on.

Tang’s mouth hung open when he saw his reflection.

He was young.

He was buff.

Tang gaped at his own body for a few moments. Sure, the scholar had never technically been out of shape in most timelines, but dang he had never been this fit before either.

Blushing in embarrassment once he realized he had just been staring at himself for over a minute, Tang did his best to refocus.

(But damn did he look good.)

He was much younger than usual as well. If the scholar had to guess, he’d say he was only a few years older than MK and Mei now.

He really needed to find out what was happening.

Tang took a breath and began his remembering ritual.

“I am Lóng Tang. I am the current heir to the branch of the Lóng family descended from Huánglóng, the Yellow Dragon.”

What the hell?!

Tang rubbed his temples as he felt a headache coming on. He thought being Tripitaka had been confusing enough, but this was on an entirely different level of unexpected. He needed to keep going or he’d get stuck on this single fact for much too long.

“Every family descended from a dragon traditionally takes on the name Lóng. Even though we aren’t tied by blood, all the Lóng branches consider each other family and treat each other as distant relatives.”

Fascinating, but that didn’t really help ease his confusion much. Next detail.

“I’ve been living with my aunt, uncle, and cousin, who are descended from Ao Run, the Dragon King of the West Sea, for the last four years.”

Well that explained why he was in Mei’s mansion.

“I’ve done so at the request of my aunt and uncle, who are hoping that by setting a good example, Mei will learn from me, grow out of her childish pursuits, and become a proper heir.”

What. The. Hell.

Tang searched his memories thoroughly. There was no way Mei’s parents would have said such a horrible thing to him directly.

He came up with no concrete evidence of his aunt and uncle having ever implied that they found Mei lacking in any way. It seemed this version of himself had simply made that assumption himself.

Tang rolled his eyes. He certainly knew how dangerous making assumptions could be. He needed more information to get a better conclusion.

“Luckily for Mei, I find her to be fun and do my best to act as a buffer between her and her parents. She introduced me to her friend MK back in my first year living here, and he quickly befriended me once I began sharing stories about the Monkey King with him. We all like to hang out at MK’s adoptive father’s noodle shop whenever we all have some free time.”

Tang smiled in relief. At least some things never changed.

“Right now, I should be making my way to the mansion’s training room for my daily workout before heading to my job at the city library.”

Tang blinked as he finally checked the time. 5:17 AM. Eurgh. He should not be feeling this energetic this early.

With a resigned sigh, Tang pulled out a set of exercise clothes from the ridiculously nice dresser and got dressed.

He had always heard exercising was a good way to help clear your head when you had a lot to think about. At least, that’s what a lot of martial arts fiction implied. He hoped that it worked the same in practice.

----------

Tang had never felt so in control of his own body before. The way it seemed to flow from one movement to the next as he began some warm up sets was extremely satisfying.

Just as satisfying was the fact that he was trained in martial arts in this timeline. He never had a real desire to fight, but just knowing how to defend himself was a bit reassuring with what he knew would be coming in the future.

He let his mind wander a bit as he let his muscle memory lead him through his pre-workout routine.

This cycle had broken Tang’s previously held conventions on what he had come to expect within these timelines. He had originally categorized them into five types.

The ones where there were no changes to the original timeline.

The ones where there were only small, relatively insignificant changes.

The ones where new events outside of the ones in the original timeline occurred.

The ones where he was the immortal Tripitaka instead of just his reincarnation.

Finally, there were the ones that combined any number of changes from the previous three types.

Tang moved on to a second, more difficult set as he pondered on this shift in perspective. It was obvious this was a new, sixth type of cycle he simply hadn’t encountered before. This one had completely rewritten his and Mei’s background, making huge alterations to their past that would surely affect the coming future events.

Tang felt a shiver of fear creep down his spine but kept his form steady.

Now that his personal history was almost completely unrecognizable, what did that mean for the “No Interference” rule? It didn’t seem to apply whenever Tang himself didn’t know what the outcome of events could be. So with him having an altered life, did that mean the outcomes of the events he knew of would have been altered as well? Could he get more involved than before now as he never knew what those outcomes would have been? Perhaps he couldn’t directly affect the outcomes, but surely he wouldn’t be punished for offering a bit of backup and support now that he could provide it.

Right?

He smoothly moved onto his final warm up set as another complication occurred to him.

This wouldn’t be the only cycle that would drastically change his and his family’s past. Like the other variants, now that he had experienced one, more would begin to show up with increasing frequency as time went on.

What worried Tang was that they would also share the unpredictability of the others. The vast amount of probable changes were too numerous to even begin guessing what might happen until a cycle began and he could remind himself of his history within it.

He supposed that there was nothing he could do about that until those cycles actually happened, so there was no real point in fretting over it now. He let his worries go as he finished his warm up and took a deep breath.

Tang felt good.

Better than good, actually, he felt energized. Charged up, so to speak. It was exhilarating.

With a grin, Tang focused on the part of himself that was dragon in origin. The energy that swirled within him was powerful; a strange mix of wild strength and immovable sturdiness.

He let warm power fill him as he held out his hand. In a flash of golden-yellow light, the young scholar summoned his family’s own sacred weapon to him. Tang examined it in awe.

Dàdì Zhī Yá.

Fang of the Earth.

It was a masterful work of art.

The magical guandao had been a gift to his ancestors from Huánglóng himself and, just like Mei’s Dragon Blade, seemed to be made entirely out of jade.

It wasn’t the same green jade however. It was made up of three other types of the precious mineral.

The intricately designed blade was a bright yellow jade, matching the color of the scales of its creator. The shaft of the weapon was a rich brown jade, symbolizing the element of Earth Huánglóng was associated with. Finally, the connector for the shaft and blade and the counter-weighted capstone at the butt of the shaft were a deep black jade. It was said to represent the color of ink as Huánglóng had supposedly gifted the knowledge of writing to mankind.

The only part of the weapon that wasn’t made of jade was the royal purple silk tassel that hung from the connecting piece near the blade. It complimented the earthy colors of the rest of the guandao rather nicely.

Tang took the weapon in both hands and got into the proper stance to begin his drills.

He had earned the right to wield the Fang of the Earth roughly six years ago according to his memories and had practiced diligently with it ever since.

Being chosen to be worthy of possessing it had forged a sort of connection between him and the guandao. Normally, the weight alone should have made it impossible for him to lift it, but the connection allowed him to hold it with little difficulty. He had still struggled a bit with how heavy it was despite that, but the years of training had helped him gain the strength and muscle to wield it with incredible precision and control.

Simply being able to pick it up wasn’t the only benefit to being connected to his family’s sacred weapon. It seemed to bond with the dragon energy within him, allowing the scholar to summon it to his side at will. The only drawback was that his hands had to be completely free to do so.

He wondered if the Dragon Blade worked similarly for Mei back in his original timeline.

Tang swung the guandao around skillfully, thinking about his cousin in this cycle.

Lóng Xiǎojiāo. Mei.

The young woman was an endless fountain of optimism and positivity. She had a passion for life and its experiences. Riding her motorcycle was just one of the ways she connected to her innermost self and channeled her enthusiasm for existence.

She was fiercely loyal to her friends and family. She may not be formally trained in a fighting style, but if you hurt her precious people you’d face her wrath.

Mei was generally cheerful and outgoing in most aspects of her life. The single exception had been her relation with her family and their legacy.

Tang frowned as he continued his drills.

In the original timeline, Mei had constantly been under the pressure to behave properly. At least she had until the Dragon Blade had been stolen and she unlocked its power. By embracing being a part of her family despite their differences and by being herself, she had become a worthy successor to her clan’s lineage.

But that was still four months away according to the current date. This was certainly the earliest he’d even woken up before the original events.

His presence here wasn’t helping matters. While he and Mei had become good friends, he couldn’t help but feel that she thought she was constantly being compared to him by her parents.

Again, he had no strong proof about whether that was the case in this cycle. It was just a suspicion he had.

Tang hummed to himself, trying to think of some way to fix this problem while slashing downwards with the Fang of the Earth.

He couldn’t do anything overt that could change things so that she accepted her place in her family too early. He was sure that violated the “No Interference” rule despite the changed history.

Perhaps he could try subtly raising Mei’s self confidence? But how could he go about doing that?

Tang twirled the guandao around him before ending his first set.

As he looked down at his own family’s legacy and heritage, he couldn’t help but think that learning to use the weapon had made him more sure of himself over the years.

Tang blinked.

Huh.

Perhaps he could use that.

He started into his next set of drills, already brainstorming about what he would need to make his plan work.

----------

Tang was certain his earlier suspicions about Mei’s parents were, thankfully, completely wrong. The dinners they shared as a family proved to him that they loved their daughter completely. They just didn’t see eye-to-eye on some things.

He was also able to get their permission and help with the idea he had. That showed how much they actually cared considering the things he had asked for weren’t something people only obsessed with their image and wealth would agree to.

It took nearly three weeks to prepare but he was finally ready.

“Uncle, do you remember that issue we discussed a few weeks ago,” he asked at dinner that evening.

“Oh, is it ready?”

“Yes Uncle.”

“Wonderful! Mei darling,” his uncle addressed the young woman, who eyed him warily.

“Yeah dad?”

“Tang here has come up with a bit of a surprise for you. Would you be willing to join him in the training room after dinner so that he may share it with you?”

“Uhh… I guess so,” Mei agreed hesitantly, glancing over at her older cousin.

“Don’t worry. It’s a good surprise,” Tang reassured.

“It’s also one we support and gave our full permission for,” Mei’s mother added. “Listen to what your cousin has to say and try not to dismiss it right away, dear.”

Tang winced a little as Mei glared down at her plate.

He clamped down at the growl that wanted to roll from his throat at the slightly tactless comment. Dragon instincts had been interesting to deal with these past few weeks. Especially the protective ones.

Dinner finished soon after and Tang led Mei to the training room.

“So what’s this big surprise you’ve got for me,” Mei asked, slouching as she looked around the room.

“Don’t sound too excited now,” Tang drawled as he pulled out a wrapped package.

“I don’t know. Something that has my parents' full support sounds soooo cool,” Mei snarked, earning a snort from the scholar.

“Trust me on this. You’ll like it,” Tang said, slowly unwrapping the item. “How would you like to learn how to wield a sword?”

“Wait, what?” Mei straightened her posture in surprise. She gasped when Tang finally unveiled what he was holding.

A replica of the Dragon Blade.

“Wha- But- How?!” Mei gaped at the sword. It wasn’t an exact copy, but it had the same dimensions as the original.

“Your parents allowed me to commission a copy of the Dragon Blade so that I can begin teaching you how to use it.”

That had been a bit of a hard sell. He had to agree to only go through a smith of their choice and all schematics of the blade had to be destroyed afterwards. But they had gone through with it, at least once he explained it was for Mei’s benefit.

Mei’s expression flickered between several emotions before settling on anger.

Uh oh.

“Oh I get it! This is because I’m ‘undisciplined’ isn’t it,” she bit out, a growl rising in her voice. “I need to be reined in! Taught how to be a dignified heir to the clan like you, right?!”

“No! That’s not-” Tang took a breath. He wouldn’t get through to her if he started yelling too. “That’s not what’s going on here, Mei.”

“Oh? Well it sure looks like it is to me!”

“Will you please let me explain?”

“Ugh!” Mei threw her arms in the air before crossing them and looking away in a huff. “Fine! But once you’re done I’m out of here.”

“That’s okay. No one said you had to go through with this if you didn’t want to,” he reassured. That seemed to make some of the tension ease out of her.

“First, this was my idea, not your parents’. The only thing I needed permission from them was to make this replica.

“As for why... I just wanted to spend more time with you is all.”

“Huh?” Mei looked up at the nervous scholar. “But we hang out all the time!”

“Yes, but that’s usually with MK as well. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Tang hastily added at her sudden glare. “I love the kid, really I do!

“But we don’t really do anything that’s just for the two of us. Since I enjoy training with a weapon, I thought it could be something we could share?”

Mei had her brows furrowed in uncertainty.

“But… Why go through the trouble of making a copy of the Dragon Blade then? Couldn’t you just teach me how to wield a guandao as well? That is the weapon you actually know how to use.”

“I suppose that’s a fair point,” Tang conceded. “But what about when you claim the real Dragon Blade for yourself? Shouldn’t you know how to properly use it when that happens?”

“When I-” Mei’s breath caught. “You think I-! I’m not-! My parents would never-!”

“Mei, Mei!” Tang placed a hand on her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. “Take a breath. In and out.”

The young woman took a few deep breaths, calming herself. Then she stared into Tang’s eyes, looking for any deception.

“Do you really think mom and dad would ever let me use the blade?”

“I’m not sure what they might do.” That was a slight lie, but he couldn’t force her into a realization about her family too early. He was pushing it as it was just by telling her he thought she’d get the blade.

“But I do know you. You’re optimistic. You’re funny. You’re loyal. You’re incredibly brave. I’m sure that just by being yourself everything will turn out.” That was not a lie. His cousin was all those things and he admired her for it.

Mei, who had tears in her eyes, launched herself at him and pulled him into a hug. Her grip was powered by her dragon strength, but luckily for Tang this time, he had his own so he wasn’t crushed in the embrace.

“Thank you Tang.”

“No problem, Mei.” He held her for a moment before pulling away and asked, “So does this mean you want to learn swordplay?”

“Heck yeah it does!” Mei pumped her fists into the air. “This is going to be awesome!”

“Good.” Tang gave a mischievous smirk. “Then I expect you to be here bright and early tomorrow morning.”

Mei froze in her celebrations.

“Uh… How early, exactly” she asked nervously.

Tang’s grin was filled with too many fangs as his eyes sparkled with humor.

“5:30 sharp.”

“NOOOOOOOO!” Mei’s dramatic cry of horror and slump to the floor made Tang burst out in laughter.

Who knew teasing a younger relative could be so much fun?

----------

Tang grit his teeth as he slashed through another bull clone with Fang of the Earth.

It was finally the day of Demon Bull King’s invasion and the group had just returned from the volcanic ring where MK had seemed to perish. They were fighting their way through the army of bull clones in an attempt to get to the center of the city where Demon Bull King was.

What they were planning to do once they reached him, Tang still had no clue no matter how many timelines he lived through.

Tang dodged a strike from his left and countered with a quick sweep of his guandao.

There were definitely way more clones than there were originally. He supposed that this was whatever higher power that controlled the cycle's way of balancing out his ability to actually help out.

He dispatched the group of enemies surrounding him and looked around.

There was Pigsy who was beating away clones with a loose pipe. Sandy stood next to the chef, deflecting any attacks that came their way with two trash can lids. Where was-

Tang’s pulse quickened when he heard Mei scream.

He searched frantically, dodging or redirecting the strikes coming his way when-

There!

Mei was backed up against a building, surrounded by clones. She was holding a gash on her arm and the broken remains of her training sword lay at her feet.

She looked scared.

Tang could feel it as his eyes narrowed into slits and a menacing growl tore from his throat. With a roar of fury, he leapt into the air towards Mei.

He let his power loose, manifesting an avatar of his dragon form behind him as he filled the Fang of Earth with golden-yellow energy.

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SISTER!”

He landed in front of Mei and shouted in rage as he stabbed the ground with the guandao. A shock wave of power spread through the earth around them, causing it to spike up to stab any clone it passed.

The energy dissipated once all the bull clones in the area had been destroyed. Satisfied they were safe for the moment, Tang swiftly turned around and began checking over Mei.

“Are you alright Mei?! What am I saying, of course you aren't! You’re bleeding! Let me see that.” The dragon scholar fussed over the young woman, inspecting the wound before tearing off the hem of his robe to serve as a bandage.

“Did… Did you just call me your sister?” Mei’s eyes were wide as she stared at him.

Tang froze for a moment. Had he?

Oh. He supposed he had.

Well that explained where the fondness and protective feelings he had developed for her over the course of their daily training came from.

Tang finished tying off the bandage before looking at Mei.

“Is… Is that okay,” he asked nervously. “Because if you aren’t okay with it I won’t call you that again- oof!”

He was cut off by Mei launching herself at him and hugging him tightly.

“Of course it's okay you goof!” He could hear her sniffles as she fought back tears.

“Oh! Well… That’s, uh, good,” Tang relaxed into the hug as his nervousness melted away.

Mei snickered and pulled away, giving him a blinding smile.

“Come on, big bro. We’ve got a city to save!”

Tang felt his own face light up as he picked up Fang of the Earth and followed his sister to regroup with Pigsy and Sandy.

He knew they were no match for Demon Bull King and would have to wait for MK’s arrival to defeat him, but right now Tang felt like he could take on anything.

----------

Tang grew accustomed to being able to help in fights. They had all been scaled up in scope so that while his support was useful, it was never the tipping point that could change the outcome into something different.

The cycle moved on swiftly.

He celebrated with Mei and her parents when she obtained ownership of the real Dragon Blade.

He fought in their resistance when the Demon Bull King invaded a second time.

He did his best to be there for MK when the signs of his stress began to show.

All too soon, the day of training in the desert came.

Lady Bone Demon’s attack was just as brutal as ever.

However, when he and the rest of the group jumped to attack her once MK got caught, Tang instinctively dodged out of the way of her retaliation.

Before he could think of the potential consequences of attempting to change the outcome, he began to slash downwards with the Fang of the Earth.

Only to be stopped dead in the air when the Mayor grabbed the blade with no effort.

Tang felt dread crawl up his spine as the demon smiled nonchalantly at him. Flashbacks to that early cycle triggered in his mind, causing him to freeze up.

The Mayor casually ripped the guandao from Tang’s loose grasp, tossing it over his shoulder like a discarded piece of trash. Then he punched the dragon scholar with enough force to launch him back onto the ship.

Tang could only assume the events continued as normal from there.

He was too busy having a panic attack to notice.

Years of training and experience and still he was powerless against that man! He vaguely acknowledged he had started to cry at some point.

“Tang! Big brother! It’s okay. He’s gone. We got away.” Mei was holding him as he sobbed.

“M-mei?”

“I’m here, big brother. We’re safe.”

Tang began to breathe deeply in order to calm himself. He wanted to be composed when Wukong showed up with MK so as not to worry them too much.

He hugged Mei fiercely before pulling away.

“T-thanks, little sister,” he said with a shaky smile. She just smiled back and helped him to his feet.

As he leaned against the younger woman, Tang couldn’t help but feel extremely lucky to have gotten to know her like this.

She was fierce, loyal, brave, and kind.

She was the best sister someone could have ever asked for.

----------

Welcome to the Golden Dragon Tang AU!

This is my own personal creation, and most of the prominent details (minus Tang knowing the future from timeline jumping) are laid out in this chapter. If I got any of the details about the Yellow Dragon wrong I apologize! I'm not a mythology expert.

A guandao is basically the Chinese equivalent of a glaive; a short sword mounted on a 1-2 meter pole. I may get around to drawing Fang of the Earth at some point. Also please forgive me if the Chinese for the name is wrong for I am but a humble google translate user.

In case you haven’t noticed, a few of the chapters have been dedicated strictly to character studies of the other members of the Monkie Kid crew through Tang’s perspective. Mei’s just happened to occur at the same time as my really long debut of the cool AU I had made up! Also does anyone have some good fanon names for Mei’s parents? I was dying never referring to them by name.

And yes, Tang does still have some issues with the Mayor. I’m sure that won’t be too relevant in the future.

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought and see you next time!

[neo-shitty]

toffee!

ah yeah, i think quarentine has given people some opportunity to actually just sit with the person they are, rather than be rushing around for the person they want to become. its good you got smth good out of isolation! ah thats great! hope you had fun and ur partner in crime speeds back home so you can get out more hehe.

ah yeah ty, good suggestions.

hmm good point, i was sort of putting it separate to the whole not-sexualising thing, but yeah. mmm yeah i totally agree, some of the enhypen fics/imagines *shudder* and even reading innie stuff is just a bit *icky* cos everyone still thinks of him as our agi ppang. yeah def would be good but sadly this just seems to be the world we live in. :(

ah yes the holy masterlist (not sarc) i have actually read in the rain and gladius maximus before, but ill go look for in class! oooh thats good! character development lol. hmmmm yes champagne problems was the angst to end all angst, that shit hurt. it was actually one of the first of your fics i read and i recall almost crying over the whole thing, it was so heartbreaking, i can see how it almost made you want to drop angst. good that youve allowed yourself some lee-way tho :)

hehe thats so cool. okay here we go, ill try not to be mortally offended (/hj)

cheese - yes same, i liked it but that was all there was, it wasnt a super standout track. it was rlly underwhelming for me but some of the hook is super catchy so there is Redemption (tm) in store for cheese maybe

thunderous - mmm, yeah at first i totally agreed, i think they suffer from too much good music syndrome, that all their other tracks are such fucking bops its hard to stay at that level of perfection. the choreo was beautiful tho and tbh, the track has grown on me since ive been watching all the vids abt it. its my brothers favourite track

domino - YES GODAMMIT IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE TITLE TRACK. the raps, the vocals, the vibes, the fucking domino sound in the back? i would have streamed that shit on repeat. but tbh, as good as it is, it doesnt have that sort of grandness/oomph that skz seems to like in their title tracks so i can see why they chose thunderous (tho domino would have been so good) *sigh*

ssick - yeah same, not my fave track by a long mile, the crowd cheering was a ?strange? choice and the chorus was a bit bare/empty, plus like i mentioned earlier, it was kinda funny to me for some reason but ill still play it if im playing thru the whole album

the view - ahh one of those not like other girls (/j) i honestly think its just a good party song, just a bop to play in the background when nobodys rlly paying much attention. its pretty generic pop music but catchy

sorry, i love you - hehe yeah i thought it was going to be sadder as well, but i rlly loved the fact that they all just got to sing, which almost never happens, i dont think ive heard felix sing for a long time, so i enjoyed it. wasnt rlly a standout track but i just casually like it. looking forward to the fic haha

silent cry - this song i swear, some bits are rlly good and then others are just? why?? it does sound like a dance song tho idk. definitely not one of my faves either

secret secret - YES its so good! its such a chill song and i love their vocals in it. the combination of lo-fi/fake strings backup stuff and their heavenly vocals just makes it *chefs kiss* im listening to it rn and just... its so beautiful. it gives me pumped up another day vibes ya know? like my pace is edgy get cool, this one is energetic another day i feel like. overall i love it

STAR LOST - ah thats so cool! i didnt know that! on first listen this song had a similar vibe to secret secret but then the beat came in and ahh its such a good song. i can totally imagine them putting this song to a concert footage vid, this song is so sweet.

red lights - LMAO YES ITS SO AWKWARD WHY DOES IT GO ON FOR SO LONG ah thats good! yeah good point, its quite intense hehe. but that is my fave trope and this is lowkey my favourite track on the album so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just the combination of hyunjins and chans voices, the backing music, the lyrics ahh red lights my beloved

surfin’ - yes lmao its always a shock, i feel like they should have put gone away in between them, but its such a fun cute song, i cant get rlly mad. yeah, as an aussie i think im contractually obligated to like beaches lol. sand im not such a fan of, but my familys rlly into fishing and my brother loves bodyboarding so we stay at a beach house at least twice a year and we live like 5 mins from 3 different beaches (hehe all aussie cities are on the coast lol) so thats cool. do you like beaches?

gone away - ah gone away my beloved, i love this song sm, its just so pure and showcases their vocals and lyrics so well. yes the pitch change is very out of the blue, i feel liek they went directly from seungmins soft vocals to hans powerful ones which was an interesting choice, but hey, im not complaining

wolfgang - YES IKR ah im so happy he got to be included in that era and song. yeah its such a full on song i cant rlly listen to it if im in a quiet mood but its very motivating :)

hehe mood, i hope they do! ahhh no rest, but at least you wont have to pull a blink and wait a year for any word from the group lol. im not rlly into nct but im excited for them! ah hopefully youll be able to sneak some rest into that chaotic schedule, with enhypen (idk if u stan but yeah) squeezed into it haha

<3 w.a. 🐺

i wheezed at partner in crime, it reminded me of smth. i have a lee know fic in the drafts that i wrote 'in honor' of him (and his departure-ish). i'll tag you when i finish it, if you want. it's a rather hilarious one.

oh my god. based on my experience on the collabs i've joined before, writing explicit shit for '01 & '02 is not accepted (nct's maknaes) but with enha's hyung line '01 & '02 somehow it's okay? i do a double take every time i see fics like those i mean, technically, it's legal but still what the fuck. maybe it's just not for me at the moment. not at us venting our frustration about this. it's just something that's so accepted here that i am (in all honesty) slightly uncomfortable about. but oh well. that's kpop writerblr for you.

man i could've linked all the fics in the ask instead so you wouldn't have to go looking for them! i think i saw you like in class the other day (the fic i renamed into sharp-tongued, god it took me a while to remember the new title). describing champagne problems as an angst to end all angst is one way to put what i was feeling back in december. it just hurt to write and admit?? if that ever happened to me i would prolly cry :d

okay back to the album talk! i love how you answered with more thoughts. i love exchanges like these! i am a victim of the cheese hook and it's now one of my favorite tracks in the album. PLS, TOO MUCH GOOD MUSIC SYNDROME. that's on our self-producing kings 😌💅 also, your brother has taste! as i am typing this, domino's currently playing in my head and i realized that too, that it doesn't have that 'vibe' of a skz title track. honestly, this could be a title track of another group. ssick is starting to grown on me because i found the beats cool kdjsk not the not like other girls 😭 the view is the generic pop that i don't like but i get why a lot of people enjoy it. sorry i love you scratches a certain itch that i find myself singing the first few lines every time i remember it. i too would want to hear felix sing more!

> a mini junction on the album talk bc i got side tracked. on that topic, i want skz to switch positions at some point like i know those allrounders are capable of doing so. specifically, i want to hear seungmin rap!!!! (yk in the recent weekly idol he talked faster than changbin in a challenge and changbin is like the fastest rapper in kpop that's active atm if im not mistaken. my dandy boy has some potential and i want it UNLEASHED.)

back to album talk. silent cry is basically sad music to twerk to. secret secret is definitely one of my favorite tracks :( i loved how you compared the tracks HAJSAH i burst out laughing bc yk what, you're right! i want to make a star lost edit of skz but i simply do not have the time i want to cry. i love the song so much. ok, my dreaded track, red lights. idt i have played the track since we last talked. my friend sent me the lyrics tho and i'm itching to write a twisted au out of it. idk if you're comfortable with yandere but somewhere along those themes. the obsessive type of love that's sweet at first but turns rotten. IMAGINE IF THEY PUT GONE AWAY BETWEEN ASHJA it's like going from 50 shades to the notebook.

i was about to ask if you lived near the coast and you literally mentions it here god im so stupid. yes i LOOOOOOOOOVE beaches so much. living in an archipelago is fun :( i live in a part of the country that's more island than city so every time i want some vitamin sea it's accessible. i heard the waves in australia are great :( anYWHOOO gone away :(( every time it plays im compelled to skip it because it makes me sAD AND NOWADAYS I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO BE SAD. contrary to you, i dislike my quiet moods because i tend to overthink a lot.

i have this little analogy about how there are stays that enjoy songs the generic pop + mellow songs and then there are other stays that enjoy the noisy tracks. in my mind, it's like a perfect balance that makes me feel like all the tracks are loved in the end. just by different people.

PULL A BLINK. bro i fucking hate yg entertainment. they have the biggest kpop girl group LOCKED in their basement when they could be (and i mean this in the most business-like way not morally) milking money of the quad. they're yg's biggest hope at not being bankrupt atm so it's a damn fucking mystery to me as to how they aren't doing anything. (jk i just realized lisa solo album soon, but i still need a ot4 cb hELLO)

i stopped looking forward to the teasers. rest > kpop boys. i don't want to sound like a cult member but have you tried checking out nct? are they just not your thing? (i get it tho, that's one hard group to get into). and yes i do stan enhypen!

wow i love how long these asks are! they're like online penpals. but i also want to ask about you! how have you been lately? are you feeling okay both mentally and physically? how's the weather there? do you have anything that you want to talk about? maybe an interesting book you read? feel free to bring up anything you want to share! i'm getting conscious about talking about myself HAJHSJ

and yet another long answer B) i am sooo sorry T___T should these ask exchanges feel draining to you, feel free to stop sending them in AAAA

[believerindaydreams]

It's Saturday night, I'll write some Colonel Autumn being a dick to Arcade fanfic if I wanna

Autumn

Defending Paradise Falls. Ha.

Up to now the arrangement has been going smoothly enough- the Enclave lets their activities slide, even pays half again what Ashur would for a first pick at quality captives. Given the alternative of being sent north to the Pitt, most people are only too happy to be taken to the shelter of Raven Rock.

Part of the bargain, though, was to save them if anyone should break through the defences- and so that's what you and your men are doing here, responding to Eulogy's urgent plea. Standing at the gate of a settlement wreathed in flame.

"Sir," one of the men says. "Shouldn't we be assisting?"

You watch the slavers, firing for their lives; and the flag of the Temple of the Union waving above Hannibal Hamlin's incinerator squad. A sense of overweening disgust takes you.

"Let them wipe each other out. We'll move in when it's over."

They wouldn't trust the assessment from anyone else; but you're Colonel Autumn, darling of the Enclave, and your word is iron law.

So they hold fire until the battlefield is only a cemetery, bodies of slavers and slaves scattered, and then you nod and they move in. Plenty of flame here to cleanse the corpses, scour this place for keeps.

Ashur will be displeased; well, let him be. It doesn't do to let any one faction in the Wasteland grow too powerful, and there's still too much risk of him rejoining his former allegiance. A Brotherhood with the Pitt's resources at its command could break the Capitol balance of power.

And as for Hannibal...well. President Eden doesn't care for non Enclave heroes.

So he's a particular priority to locate; and when your men report him in the clinic, defended by an Enclave Eyebot of all things, you raise an eyebrow and follow.

They aren't joking. Half its metal fronds are gone, it bobs up and down in a faltering pattern, but it's still functioning somehow. Impressive. They usually explode after the slightest tap-

wait, is this one of those Duraframe models? Damnit, this should have been scrapped already.

It does its best to zap anyone who goes near it; and any of your men could down it at need but they're all holding back, perplexed and disturbed. No one's ever hacked an Eyebot like this before.

There might be a good explanation, of course.

You nod at the Eyebot, draw your gun and place it down again. In its place, you hold out a super stimpak. It beeps, twice, and when you move forward it allows you.

Hannibal is alive, if barely; a medkit will keep him that way for now. The others- a mix of silver Temple armor and those new-fangled Follower coats- aren't wounded quite so badly, you can afford the resources to patch them up.

Somewhere around the second bottle of purified water wasted on someone who might not even be good Enclave material, you realise that you've slipped back into character, Lone Wanderer instead of colonel, and that's a foolish thing to do with your men watching in silence. They shouldn't watch their leader showing softness, or aimlessly pocketing ammo like a common prospector. Maybe it's been too long since you've travelled with Boone.

"I will fight you," Hannibal mumbles, training a lever-action rifle on you.

It has been too long. Taking this sort of risk doesn't befit this uniform. "I'm not trying to kill anyone. Shut up and let the Enclave save you people."

He lets the gun drop, but maintains a hard stare. "I never heard that your men ever left your Vertibirds."

You lean in close. "I stole this colonel's uniform so these folks wouldn't shoot me. They don't know I'm the Lone Wanderer."

His pained face eases into a smile. "That isn't a title to be claimed lightly."

"Believe me, I don't."

He chuckles, accepts the vodka you offer him. "I remember forging a claim just that mad and making it stick...all right then, Colonel. How about the slavers, any of them make it out?"

"No. We made sure."

"Good...Arcade? Arcade, we did it. We're still alive, and it's thanks to your medic skills."

The Follower he's attempting to wake groans, covers filthy glasses with the sleeve of an even dirtier coat. "Take two stims and call me in the morning. I'm done in."

One of the others is waking now, a short woman who was still clutching her shotgun when she passed out. "Hannibal? Arcade? You feel as good as I do?"

"Just about," Hannibal says warmly. "And I'm very proud of you."

She snorts at him. "Enough soft soap. I only helped murder, oh, every slaver in Paradise Falls."

None of your men would talk back to you like that.

For a moment, you wish they might.

*****

Arcade

Well. This is good and bad.

It's good, because the last time he was conscious had left him fairly sure it would be the last. The trip here was meant to be recon, not a full-fledged battle; Hannibal's insistence on always being prepared is all that had saved them. Well, and his own battlefield skills, which have improved of necessity on this coast. And Simone carrying so many guns that everyone in the pen could take one.

And the small Eyebot that's been their secret weapon, going in for the kill in tight spots. He's sure it made the difference between their life and death at the last, when Eulogy and his minions were taking them on personally.

And considering that, thinking of blowing up ED-E seems hugely ungrateful.

He repacks his depleted doctor's bag, feels the heavy weight of the detonator in his pocket. One quick movement and it would be over. Nothing to tie him to a piece of technology that he had no business dealing with in the first place.

An Eyebot bound for Navarro, never even making it out of the Wasteland; and if it reached its goal it would find nothing but dust.

Arcade raises the detonator unobtrusively, looks at the Eyebot. An Enclave scientist is trying to mend it, cursing under his breath as it beeps cheekily, bobbing up and down.

He sighs and doesn't fire, walks back into the clinic to meet Hannibal, who's beaming with pleasure.

"All well then?"

"Frankly, I could have done without the Enclave swooping in to loot everything. Simone's giving me plenty of lip for that. But we've found a few more survivors and the Colonel's men are helping out." His voice softens. "And Paradise Falls is broken forever. We can go back to the Memorial and be at peace, now."

"Actually, Arcade Gannon will be coming with us."

Arcade jumps- not least because he hadn't heard the colonel's footsteps. "Sorry?"

"Can I speak bluntly to you two?" Autumn asks, in an undertone.

"Shoot," Hannibal says, evenly. "Because he seems taken aback by this."

"See, it's like this...my men checked the records, they say he's a deserter. That means either him or his head. I'd rather it be him, you know?"

The soft drawl is attractive, but not enough to distract him from the content. "That's a- a mistake?"

"We have good records," Autumn says, looking apologetic. "And the Eyebot...the Eyebot was a give-away, you know. They wanted to know who did that. And more than that..." His voice lowers. "I need help. Badly. We're supposed to go back to Raven Rock today, and I don't even know where the damn place is."

Arcade looks around to see if any Enclave soldiers are here to witness this remarkable statement. They aren't.

"You get into some funny situations when you're the Lone Wanderer."

"Oh! Boone's friend!"

"...you know him?"

Arcade gulps down an incriminating statement. "Yeah. He shows up at the Followers tent for help with his addictions, he has a weakness for Steady. And moonshine. I tell him to cut back and he never does."

"Sounds familiar," Autumn says dryly. "My vice is vodka- he talks about me? Because I've met more talkative Deathclaws."

"Ooh...um, not that much. But apparently you pay well and you don't sleep enough."

"True enough...and look, I'll be honest with you. This scares me. An in to Raven Rock is the biggest thing I've ever been caught up in, and in twenty minutes I have to head there with no backup. Maybe you could come along?"

"If you're unwilling to go back," Hannibal says, squaring his shoulders. "We'll help you. I don't approve of people being held under duress."

"But I could do so much good by finding out how they tick," Autumn says quietly. "Even if it kills me."

"It will kill you," Arcade blurts out. "You don't know what you're doing here."

The door swings open, a soldier marches in and salutes. "Sir. The Vertibird is warming up."

"You don't have to go," Hannibal says, loading his gun; and Arcade knows that's meant for both of them.

"Duty calls," Autumn says.

And his solemn tone decides Arcade like no rational argument could; a man walking into hell of his own accord with no idea how to get out. Because he's trying to save the Wasteland, because there's no one here to help.

And it isn't even Autumn's responsibility, or heritage, or guilt.

Arcade steps in front of him. "I'm convinced. I'll come back to the Enclave."

It's the thing he's been running from all his life; and he won't let an innocent walk into it alone.

"And the test came back on this, sir. Scientists say it won't explode, but they can't quite figure what it does."

Autumn takes the weapon, gingerly pockets it. "We'll let them loose on it at base."

"Tell the Followers," Arcade starts, and stops. "Tell them I'm dead."

Boone would understand, feeling like destiny has caught up. He won't have the others trapped too.

"I'll honour that," Hannibal agrees. "Godspeed, Follower."

If it's the last time anyone will call him that, there isn't a better man to say it.

That's the last thought he has, as they go outside and start for the Vertibird; because Colonel Autumn doesn't take a chance and shoots him in the back.

The Eyebot that witnesses the act goes down next.

[litrally]

Be Enough

Summary: Damian knew he wanted to live up to the legacy he was given--he just had no idea hearing that he'd failed to do it would hurt so damn much.

Damian’s foot whirled out to the side, his heel connecting with the thug’s temple and making him drop like a rock. He ducked under another’s flying fist, jerking his head up to strike the man under his chin, throwing him off balance before slamming his fist into the side of the man’s head.

Damian’s body was aching, and though he would never admit it, his strikes had grown the slightest bit sloppy over the course of the fight. There were about 20 bodies dropped on the floor around him, but there were still another 10 men circling him, looking for an opening to with which to take him down. Damian vaguely noted the small puddle of blood that had pooled beneath his feet--actually, it probably had to do with the dull ache that was spreading across his lower back that made it a little hard to breathe each time his torso moved.

His comm crackled to life in his ear. “Robin,” Grayson’s voice came through as Damian ducked under another fist flying towards him. “I’ve located Crane, but he’s dispersed the toxin throughout the building. I’m going to start locating it.” Dick paused for a moment. “Unless you need backup.”

Damian rolled his eyes, despite having to fight to keep the breaths that were now coming out in gasps as even as possible. “I’m fine, Batman. I don’t need your assistance.”

There was a long gap before Grayson responded. “Are you--”

“Get the toxin out,” Damian snapped. “There are lives at risk and I don’t need your backup to take out a few thugs-for-hire.”

Damian could hear Dick’s tired sigh through the comms. “Alright. I’m on the roof of the building. I’ll work my way down towards you. Try not to die before I get there. Batman out.”

Damian took a deep breath, dropping low to sweep out the legs of the man in in front of him, trying his best to ignore the pain that took over his shoulder the second he was forced to put any weight on it. Inhale. Thug number seven hit the ground. Exhale. Only three left. He could do this. If only to avoid the humiliation that would undoubtedly prevail if he needed Grayson’s help.

Grayson had done enough for him. Training Damian and letting him work under him as Robin, even though Batman was his birthright, Damian grumbled to himself. But still. Grayson had taken him in and dismissed the incompetent fool that was the last Robin despite having no reason to do so, and Damian found himself working towards every expectation Grayson set. He preened at his praise, a reaction his mother would have killed him for, but Damian realized how much he enjoyed those encouragements; a hand squeezing his shoulder in approval or a grin and a nod when he finally mastered the move he had been working on for weeks--he had grown soft under Grayson’s guidance, yes, but Damian wasn’t entirely sure he disliked it.

Damian’s mind wandered enough about being torn between wanting more of the affection he had grown accustomed to with Grayson and screaming at himself for the weakness that he didn’t notice one of the men sneaking up behind him. He struck the temple of the one in front of him and watched him drop like a stone, but he barely held in the grimace when the last one came up behind him and struck him in the back, directly atop the bleeding wound he already had there. Damian whipped around and took the man down in two moves, but he stumbled as he did so. The world tilted dangerously, and a sort of black fuzziness overtook his vision as he struggled to right himself. Some subconscious part of him noted a faint hissing in one of the corners of the room, but Damian couldn’t do more than tap his comm before the world went black.

Dick was disarming the fourth gas canister when he heard Damian’s comm activate. According to Crane’s confession before Dick knocked him out and left him handcuffed to a flagpole on the roof, there were five canisters throughout the building that had to be taken out before the gas had the chance to overtake the vents. Dick’s hand crept up to his own comm, holding it down as he tried to understand the situation on Damian’s end. “Robin?”

Silence met him at the question. “Robin, are you in need of assistance?”

Something in Dick’s chest jumped at the lack of response, his jog as he approached Damian’s floor broke into a sprint.

Dick gaped at the scene that greeted him. Approximately 30 men scattered throughout the room, all of which covered in varying degrees of injuries but none of them, he noted with no small amount of relief and a little bit of pride, lethal. But his mood immediately faded as he noted the crimson-clad form slumped in the corner of the room.

“Robin?” he asked somewhat hesitantly, before noticing the slight green tinge that had taken over the air surrounding him. “Shit,” Dick murmured under his breath, noticing the vent a few feet from Damian that was releasing the dense smoke that was probably the last of the fear gas he had been unable to locate. Dick shoved a rebreather between his teeth and pried open the vent cover as fast as he could. As far as he could see, all of the thugs were still too far away to be affected, but Damian...Damian would probably be spending the night in the med bay of the cave.

As Dick worked, Damian’s quiet whimpers began to take over the heavy silence of the room. He didn’t seem to be moving much, likely due to the growing puddle of blood that Dick was trying to ignore for the moment, because if he thought about it too long he’d scoop Damian up and run him the cave as fast as he could, fear gas be damned. But Dick kept his composure, clipping the last wire on the canister to ensure no more of the gas would be released and tapped a few buttons on his gauntlet to redirect the building’s airflow outward.

Dick made his way over to Damian and gently pressed his fingers to his throat to check his vitals. He was still whimpering and his finger’s had began twitching as well, the only reason he likely wasn’t full out thrashing being that his body no longer had the energy for it.

Dick’s finger’s went to his ear. “Agent A, I need you to prep the medbay. Robin’s been gassed, and I can’t tell if it’s a new strain or one of the ones we have an antidote on hand for.”

“Understood,” Alfred’s voice came through. “Do I need to prepare any supplies for you?”

“No,” Dick replied, carrying Damian to the batmobile parked just outside the building. “I’m fine. I’m leaving with Robin now. ETA about 25 minutes.”

“Alright. I shall have everything ready for you when you arrive.” Alfred said.

Dick kept glancing over at Damian as they drove home, every twitch and mumble pulling his attention from the road. But Damian was remarkably...calm for someone on fear gas. It should have been reassuring, but something about it made Dick’s insides twist painfully.

Alfred was already jogging over before the car came to a full stop in the cave. Dick lifted Damian with an arm under his knees and the other behind his shoulders, careful to avoid jostling the long slice that ran laterally across his lower back. Alfred started an IV as Dick laid him down.

“I’m putting in the antitoxin for the latest strain we have on file,” Alfred said, slowly pressing down on the plunger inserted into the IV tube. “But he seems to be having some sort of delayed reaction to it, so I am not confident it will work.”

Dick pulled his cowl down, running a hand through his hair as Alfred began to dress the number of wounds covering Damian’s body. God, he looked so...small. So young. What the hell was Dick doing taking him out into the field and leaving him in a room with thirty men?

Alfred glanced back at him, seeming to take note of the anxiety in Dick’s stance. “Go take a shower, Master Dick. Master Damian is stable for now, and I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Dick opened his mouth to object, but a look from Alfred had him turning on his heel and tossing the cape from his shoulders onto the chair in front of the batcomputer.

By the time he came out, Alfred was packing up the medical supplies and Damian was tucked firmly beneath the blankets kept in the medbay, looking borderline peaceful. Dick pulled up a chair and settled near Damian’s head.

“I’ll go upstairs to go prepare for tomorrow’s activities. You’ll be staying here, I assume?” Alfred asked.

Dick nodded, too tired to respond verbally. Alfred squeezed his shoulder gently as he passed by. “Let me know if you need anything,” he murmured. Dick nodded again, then leaned his head back against the chair, keeping his eyes on Damian. He made it almost an hour before falling asleep.

Damian shot up in his bed, his head sweeping frantically around the room to try and take in as many details as possible. Grayson was seated in front of him, and Damian tried to bring himself to his feet, but he found something pinning him down, like he was tied to the gurney. He didn’t like it--it made him feel caged. Boxed in. Too vulnerable.

Grayson stood and strode towards him, something about his gait making Damian far more nervous than it had any right to. Grayson’s stance and demeanor always reminded Damian of a cat--dangerous when it needed to be, yes, but light and gentle. But this...this Grayson reminded him of a wolf.

“What the hell were you thinking with that fight?” Grayson hissed, leaning forward in a way that had Damian unconsciously scrabbling backwards towards the edge of his bed.

“I--” Damian began, but Dick cut him off. “How the hell have you managed to stay alive this far? Why did Talia even bother dealing with you? You clearly didn’t inherit of her skills,” he scoffed, shaking his head and rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

Some part of Damian flinched at that, but he rallied, even if the words came out in a whimper to his own ears. ��My father was--”

“Your father,” Dick said, turning away from him with a humourless laugh. “Don’t even get me started on your father.” Dick turned back towards him, holding Damian’s gaze and spitting the words like venom. “Your father would be so disappointed in the way you turned out. You’re a pathetic excuse for Robin, and you’re not worthy of the cape you wear across your back. You are not worthy,” Dick repeated, “of anything.”

Damian began pulling at the invisible bonds tying him to the bed, every single word striking him like a knife to the chest. “You’re wrong,” he said, fighting to keep his words stable and yet still hearing a slight wobble to them as they spilled form his lips. “You’re wrong. You--You said--”

“I don’t give a damn what you think I said,” Grayson hissed, bringing his his face close to Damian’s in a lethal whisper. “I hate you.”

Damian wasn’t sure when the tears started spilling from his face. The words had struck something in him, something far deeper than what he had thought he was capable of feeling.

“You...” Damian’s voice came out small, even to his own ears. “You don’t mean that?” The phrase should have been definitive. Strong, Yet it came out as a question. God, Grayson was his partner. Damian should have known his true feelings like his own.

“I hate you,” Grayson repeated, his teeth grinding together in absolute loathing. “I hate you so. Damn. Much.”

Damian’s quiet tears of shock had changed into full out sobs. “Nonono wait, please,” he gasped in between whimpers. “I’ll--I’ll do better. I swear. Please, just, please don’t say that. Please don’t mean it.”

Grayson’s gaze remained fixed on him. His lip curled in distaste, and he only looked more disgusted with Damian’s pleading. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a Wayne or an Al Ghul. It was mistake taking you in. You’ll never be good enough to be my Robin, and you’ll never be worthy of anything your father left you.”

Damian’s vision blurred, no longer taking in anything around him. His world was fury and shame and exhaustion, but most of all, utter disappointment in the fact that he knew that everything from Grayson’s mouth was true. So he lost it completely. He sobbed and shook and screamed and begged Grayson to take him back. To let him prove himself as someone worthy of everything he had been given.

But Grayson’s face was like stone: utterly immoveable and ruthless. So Damian just went on pleading.

Dick jerked awake to the sound of the heart rate monitor spiking. Then he noted the alternated sobs and whimpers coming from the previously silent body asleep beside him. He pushed himself to his feet immediately checking over IV lines and oxygen masks before realizing, shit, the fear gas must have kicked in.

He touched Damian’s shoulder gently, trying his best to pull him out of whatever nightmare scenario that had him sobbing out in his sleep, trying to ignore then painful twist in his chest every time he heard some variation of “Grayson, please, I’m sorry!”

It took almost an hour of shaking Damian’s shoulders and yelling his name before his eyes flew open. Dick glanced at the clock and did the quick calculation in his head. The toxin should be more or less out of Damian’s system by now, but the haunted look in his eyes seemed to say differently.

“Grayson,” Damian began, his voice hoarse and raw from the events of the night. His eyes were red and puffy, and tear tracks ran all over his face. “I--how long was I unconscious?”

Dick looked at him cautiously. “A few hours. Actually, I think the sun will be up soon.” Dick fell silent, watching Damian try and slow his breathing again before continuing. “Are you alright?”

Damian stiffened, and Dick started frantically running through everything he’d said and done since picking Damian up that might have elicited that reaction.

“I’m fine,” he replied, though the utter exhaustion in his tone seemed to convey otherwise.

Dick turned away for a moment (and could have sworn Damian almost deflated at the action) but returned almost immediately, holding out a water bottle.

Damian reached out to take it, and if Dick didn’t know any better, he could have sworn his hands were shaking he slightest bit. Dick settled himself on the bed near Damian’s legs, crossing his arms and watching silently as Damian sipped slowly at his water. As he twisted the lid back onto the bottle, Damian opened his mouth to speak again, his eyes never wavering from some invisible speck on the floor.

“Do...do you hate me?” Damian asked, his voice wavering the slightest bit and Dick could have sworn something in his chest cracked at the question.

“No, of course not, Damian,” he murmured, trying and failing to ignore the way every muscle in Damian’s body relaxed at the response.

“I know I’m not an easy person to take care of,” Damian began, still refusing to make eye contact with Dick. “And I know I don’t live up to the legacy that father left behind. And I know I’m probably not good enough for it, but--”

Dick cut him off by wrapping his arms around Damian’s shoulders and tugging him against him. Damian’s breaths began coming out in harsh gasps and he was crying again before he could really register what had happened.

Dick shut his eyes and began rubbing soothing circles around his back, letting Damian ride out the emotional effects of the fear gas for as long as he needed to. After a few minutes, Dick started talking again.

“Your father,” he said, “left me some really big shoes to fill. And honestly, I’d be lying to you if I said that you weren’t one of the most difficult parts of that.” Dick felt Damian tensing up against him at that again. “But,” he continued, “You’re one of the best parts of it too.”

“I was terrified to be Batman,” he admitted, his voice sounding more vulnerable than Damian had ever heard it in the weeks they’d worked together. “But somehow...somehow having you with me, to train and to work with, made it a little better. Damian, you gave me something real to work for, something I could look at and watch grow when every single thing Bruce did seemed too big for me to handle. And that is why,” he continued, his voice shaking the slightest bit, “you are an amazing Robin.”

“I’m not saying you’re perfect,” he added with a soft laugh, “but your dad would have been so proud of you. Like I am. So no, I don’t hate you.”

Damian was crying in his arms again, but these tears seemed different than the ones from before. Dick stroked his hair and held him close, even when his shoulder became damp from Damian’s tears, and didn’t move from there until Damian pulled away just enough to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, Grayson. For all of it.”

[bgn846]

The Niflheim Experiment Chapter 15

 Winning the fight against Ardyn was a major turning point in the brewing tensions between Lucis and Niflheim. The empire with all of its bravado and fancy tech seemed to have imploded overnight. It wasn’t until a few things had come to light regarding how magitek actually worked, did things begin to make sense. Someone in Niflheim had figured out how to use the scourge as a power source.

 Gladio assumed that was why he’d been so heavily tested upon when he’d been captured. They were trying to turn him into one of their own weapons. That experience still gave him nightmares from time to time, but he always managed. His family and friends plus his therapist were instrumental in moving forward.

 The liberation of Tenebrae and the other provinces Niflheim had subdued hadn’t been easy, but after a few weeks of fevered fighting, the empire’s forces withdrew. It was clear the tides had turned. The empire had lost its might.  No longer able to wield the power of the scourge they were nothing more than a nuisance run by a lunatic dictator. Gladio assumed they’d face their own internal revolution soon; the citizens couldn’t have been happy living under that kind of ruler.

 Luna and Ravus had surprised everyone and stayed in Insomnia after Tenebrae had been officially freed. Ignis so aptly pointed out one night that Ravus probably had too many bad memories to contend with there, and Luna wanted to be near Noct.

 Aranea was working for the citadel as a consultant. She didn’t exactly stay behind a desk though, she preferred going out in the field. She liked being in the thick of it when the glaives went to help push back the few remaining Niflheim forces. Loqi usually went with her and had commented several times about being interested in becoming an ambassador for Niflheim. His family was high up in the military so he had lots of connections. One's he could still use even standing against the current emperor.

 The strangest bit of intel he'd received after Ardyn’s demise was regarding his friend Prompto. A large fire had erupted in one of Niflheim's science facilities right after the last of their forces had been pushed back. Turns out the building was the one where Gladio had been held. The one where he’d sworn he’d seen Prompto in a glass tube.

 After the fire, Lucis sent a team to investigate the burnt-out shell. They were after evidence of war crimes even though the chances were slim. However, what they did uncover added some weight to what Gladio thought he’d seen when he’d been captured. It was obvious that some sort of cloning operation had been taking place. One piece of damning evidence had been a series of coded numbers left on some equipment.

 Equipment meant to hold people.

 Wondering what Prompto knew of his own existence Gladio decided he’d have to wait and let the blond tell them in his own time. Gladio had never mentioned his vivid memories featuring his friend to anyone. Gladio knew Prompto wasn’t any kind of threat, and he preferred to help keep his friends secret. Whatever it was.

 --

 Staring out the window Gladio sighed softly. He was tired but he also wanted to go out, it was a weird feeling. He must have lingered longer than he intended because Ignis was by his side a moment later looking concerned.

 “Is everything alright? I can call and cancel if you’d like.”

 “Nah, don’t do that,” Gladio replied. “I’m tired is all, but I still want to see them.”

 Smiling Ignis nodded in agreement. “I know the feeling, but we'll have fun. I believe Noct may try and pop the question this evening.”

 “No way!” Gladio spluttered. “Doesn’t he want to wait until he’s alone?”

 “I think in his own way, he’s attempting to include Ravus so the man doesn’t feel left out.”

 “Noct figured this out on his own?” Gladio questioned with a raised eyebrow. “You didn’t help him?”

 “Heaven’s no, he arrived on that decision by himself.”

 “He’s growing up, that’s nuts.”

 “Well, a lot has happened over the past six months. Niflheim has fallen, the wall has been dissolved, the oracle is free, and our prince has been saved from certain death.”

 “I still can’t believe we did that.”

 “We couldn’t have done it without you, don’t forget that,” Ignis supplied.

 “I’m thinking Luna was the big player in that battle, not me.”

 “Without your immunity to the scourge, Luna would never have been given the chance to get close enough to heal Ardyn. We were at the apex of the perfect storm.”

 “True, though she did heal me in the first place when I was being rescued. So she still gets all the credit in my book,” Gladio announced truthfully.

 “Fair enough, but don’t sell yourself short either.”

 “I won’t, we made history and I’m sorta still shocked we survived it all.”

 “Well then, I suggest we get a move on so we can see another moment in history in the making. Care to wager a bet on whether he’ll cry or not?”

 “Who, Noct or Ravus?” Gladio spit out with a laugh.

 “Oh, I’d not considered that! Let’s get going so I can find out,” Ignis huffed, but he was smiling.

 Gladio felt better and went to grab his coat. They’d started a little tradition of getting together every few weeks for dinner. It was a nice private affair that let them all relax and grow as friends, some more than others in the case of Noct and Luna. Ravus was still adjusting but he was getting more comfortable with everything as the weeks went by. Ignis was even convinced the former commander was trying to find a girlfriend.

 Maybe their quiet little dinners would gain another plus one soon. Who knew? Smiling at the thought of life going on as normal, Gladio pulled Ignis over to give him a quick kiss. “Love you,” he offered kindly. “I still can’t believe we won.”

 Ignis melted into his embrace and kissed him back, “Believe it, dear, now we only have to make sure Noct grows up to be a great king.”

 “I think I can handle that.”

 “Good I can’t keep an eye on him all by myself,” Ignis laughed.

 “Come on, let’s go.  I wanna see Noct cry.”

 “Oh, so you think he’ll get teary-eyed huh?”

 “Sure, once Luna starts bawling he won’t be able to hold it back. Ravus I’m not so sure about, I’m thinking at most his eyes will water.”

 Ignis snorted and shook his head. Opting to shove him towards the door they made their way over to the royal suites where Luna and Ravus were living now. Gladio was proud of Noct and knew he’d take the throne someday as a kind and good king. With a calming breath, Gladio grabbed Ignis’ hand as they walked together. There were so many new adventures to look forward to; Gladio could hardly wait to share them all with his friends and family.  

 EPILOGUE:

 Gladio heard Ravus shout first before his figure appeared stomping down the hallway with Noct tucked under his arm.  Well, Noct’s dummy at least.

 “Does he think it’s funny to leave this thing around when he doesn’t want to attend a meeting?” Ravus huffed when he saw Gladio and walked over.

 “My guess is he’s hanging out with Luna instead.”

 Ravus was about to say more when he sighed and adjusted the dummy in his hold, “Well, he shouldn’t be surprised when he starts getting more work done, with this thing taking his place.”

 Gladio couldn’t help but bark out a laugh. Ravus had calmed down significantly since he’d come to Insomnia. With the threat to his sisters’ life gone, he was now relaxing into his new role as Luna’s political advisor and bodyguard.  Though Loqi still kept trying to get that position, neither Ravus nor Noct would ever agree to it. Both men seemed to understand that Loqi would simply flirt non-stop with the oracle and that would be a very big distraction.

 “Where you gonna leave it now?” Gladio asked smiling.

 “I’m thinking either his training locker or in his shower, but that would require Ignis’ help. I’m not sure how he feels about that kind of thing.”

 “What? Scaring the living daylights out of his prince and best friend? I’m not sure, but it’s worth asking,” Gladio laughed. “I do think the locker idea is a good one. I think he’d freak out and probably yell.”

 Ravus’ eyes lit up at that admission, “I may have to do that then.  I know the little punk will try and prank me back.”

 “I have a feeling you’ll get it figured out,” Gladio offered as they parted ways. Ravus simply scoffed and continued on his way. That damn dummy had taken on a life of its own ever since they’d returned from fighting Ardyn. So far it’d been left in the king’s office, Cor’s car, the garden fountain, the window cleaner rig for the citadel, and now Ravus’ office. Apparently, that thing had a lot of life for a mannequin.

 Chuckling to himself at where it would end up next, Gladio continued on his way to meet Ignis for lunch. Life was finally starting to feel normal again. They’d vanquished the threat from Niflheim and won out over a two-thousand-year-old prophecy. Against all odds, they’d made it out unscathed. Now their only task was to ensure Noct would make a good king when he took over.

 How hard could that be? They had the backup dummy after all.  

THE END

     ←Previous Chapter

[shesawriter39049]

|THE PLUG PART 2 |JIMIN|SMUT

Jimin is your really hot weedman AKA “The plug” who makes house calls and has great customer service…

 This is straight smut..no plot but like…there’s lowkey a plot? Lol

Warnings: Light, LIGHT..daddy kink… soft dom Jimin, dirty talk, oral(female)…armature porn ish..I mean kinda sort…just read it dammit!

Warnings: Light, LIGHT..daddy kink...light soft dom Jimin, dirty talk….oral(female)...armature porn ish..I mean kinda sort...just read it dammit!

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

You 11:57 PM: Works been kicking my asssss this week, are you around to possibly drop off an ounce ? Pleaseee🥺

Jimin 😈👅💦💨💨 11:57: You already know I am ...I’ll see you in 30...

The minute the door flung open his lips were flesh against yours, sliding his tongue past the seam of your lips with zero warning or hesitation, slamming your body against the wall. The kiss was deep, sloppy…needy…you could almost taste the fruity aftertaste of whatever wrap he used, laying against his tongue as it stroked yours. Not even bothering to close the door before his hands were ravishing up your body, kneading at every inch he could reach “You just really needed some weed huh? That’s why you text me at damn near midnight? Not because you wanted my lips wrapped around your pussy till your dripping down my face?” Pulling back briefly biting down on his cherry stained lip admiring the way your body just melted into his touch so effortlessly, brow arched arrogantly at the applied question. Almost daring you to lie to him, you both knew damn well that wasn’t why you called.. 

Moaning out in response before crashing your lips back into his, craving the feeling of his lips against yours, your body was damn near aching for it!  Subconsciously rolling your hips against him for any sort of friction, already feeling your arousal pooling in your stomach..trickling its way down.. “Such a fucking tease..rubbing that pretty little pussy against my thigh..I can feel how warm you are, bet your already so wet for me aren’t you baby?”  Words coming out in nothing but a slur of moans, never completely breaking away from the kiss this time as his hands slid under your shirt..massaging your breast in his hands. 

Flicking your nipples between his fingers “Fuck, please….” raking your claws up his clothed back, yanking his hood off, exposing his freshly dyed  locks..messily pushed out of his face. Combing your fingers through his scalp before taking an almost possessive hold on the strands at the nape of his neck. Finding “your spot” on his neck taking a long sloe drag with your tounge, until you pried a restrained moan from his throat.

 Lips curling into a cheeky grin, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest “Taste good?” 

Nothing but arrogance poured off his tongue as his hand soothed it’s way down your ass, just lazily massaging it in his palm. Taking his time caressing your body, the calmness that soothed over his body was always extremely intoxicating. Granted it probably had a lot to do with the fact that Jimin was typically stoned whenever he saw you but to be fair it added to the appeal. ”god, I can smell you already…fuck, did you touch yourself before you called me?” There was just, something about the way his words just rolled off his tongue, that made you crave him every.single.time…you’d never met someone with such natural sex appeal. 

 Pulling back to let his forehead rest against yours, awaiting your response in which you nodded lashes fluttering against his “Yes, I was going to handle it myself but then I realized I-” To your surprise your words came out relatively calm, until his lips made there way to your jaw, trickling down to your collarbone. Nipping, licking and sucking every inch he could reach “What was that?You needed something a littleeee…” Purposely letting the last syllable hang off his tongue “Stronger? Needed daddys cock and his weed to ease your stress tonight?” You could hear the smirk in his voice as the pillowly texture of his lips continued mauling at your neck, leaving an array of pink and purple…”Memories” behind. 

"Please don't do this, I can't don't tease mee" Sucking on the hinge of his jaw, adding a slightly whiny tenor to your voice to get what you wanted...

The sound of someone down the hall getting off the elevator reminded the two of you that the door was still wide open. Leaning over quickly to finally slam it, flicking the bottom lock,...

The blatant need laced within your voice had him thorbbing in his sweats "Fuck Cmere" Reaching back over, tugging your shirt over your head letting it pool at your feet. A low whine leaving his lips at the site in front of him. Hands taking purchase beneath your thighs…indicating he wanted you to wrap them around his waist…walking the two of you over to the couch before throwing your down. Body bouncing slightly as smile moved up his face…pulling his black zip up hoodie over his head in one clean sweep. Exposing his toned chest and chiseled rose covered abdomen of course he wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath… why would he.

”Pull your panties to the side..and spread your legs apart for me baby….” There it was again the dangerous..tranquilizing lull that he called a voice.. Not even caring to hide the effect it had on you, a low moan escaping from your lips as you rolled your hips into the cushion. Eyes trained on his, fingers purposuly dancing up your clothed slit..teasing your clit with your middle finger, pussy already soaking through your silk panties they mideswell be transparent at this point. “ Your so fucking sexy…” Hand coming up to cradle your jaw while his eyes slowly drunk you in from head to toe, lids heavy..for obvious reasons, but the gleam behind them was nothing short of lust. He wanted you so fucking bad right now it was unreal, but in true Jimin fashion..more than anything he wanted to please you. That alone was enough to make him come

Slowly complying to his request you slide your silk to the side, lips glistening with your own arousal…you scent hitting his nose making another throaty whine leave his lips… Running his index and middle finger up and down your folds…purposely spreading them just enough so he was avoiding your clit. Insitivenly already rolling your hips into his hand, dragging his fingers along your lips..collecting your own juices along his girthy fingers before pushing them both in knuckle deep. Eyes squeezing shut at the sudden pressure as you hiccuped in a sharp breath..sinking your hips deep into the couch. 

���Na uh…look at me Y/n…Look at me baby….” The sound of your own arousal slicking down your thighs echoed off your apartment walls..physically able to hear your juices sliding in and you as he scissored his fingers between your heat. You watched his face contort in pure pleasure as he watched your pussy milk his fingers. Sucking them in effortlessly, so much so he slid in a third one making you knead out “God babbyyy…” Pulling his phone out of his pocket with his opposite hand, quickly sliding the screen over to the video camera, placing the phone in your hands…before you could even formulate a sentence….. 

”We can delete it right after if you want but fuck Y/N, I just need you to see how sexy your pussy looks taking fingers like this…look at the way they just disappear between your lips…your so wet for me ….so wet….” Lilitterallly moaning out all of his words at this point, you  could barely even keen your eyes open but the camera zoomed in on Jimin fucking you open on your coach held all your attention. You couldn’t even lie, even though he was right in front of you the idea of watching it all in HD..in front of your face was extremely sexy for some reason.

Hands starting to shake as he found that ridget patched, probing it meareselly..before sucking your clit between his lips. Rolling his tongue along the tip as he sucked the entire bud into his mouth, moaning out against your heat..making waves shutter through your entire body “Jimin…..” his name started falling off your lips like a prayer ,back coming to a complete arch as his phone fell from your hands, rolling your hips against his tongue. 

The sudden sting of his teeth digging into your thigh had your body snapping out of the current haze it was in “I didn't tell you to stop, now be a good girl and record yourself coming all over daddy’s face….”His tone was calm, it always was…but there was without a doubt a strong  hit of dominance in his voice, that had your muscles tensing on command. You already knew better than to test him..Jimin could edge you until you cried if he wanted too and that was the last thing you needed right now. Picking the phone backup… which was still recording anyway, hands shaking while he laid his head on your thigh. Caressing your pussy with his tongue..painting it from head to toe while…as his big brown eyes peering up at you through the camera.  

This was random AF…honestly, I don’t know where this came from but lemme know if you guys enjoyed.. and maybe I’ll continue theses if I get inspo…

love you as always

Rocki

[gaycrouton]

Close Quarters

I’m still working on making sure all my fics are available on all three mediums (Ao3, FF.net, and Tumblr) so this my second XF Fic I ever wrote. I posted it in January of 2018 when I was desperately binging to catch up and watch 11 live. So, if it’s super OOC, keep in mind I was a wee babe back then. Hope you enjoy! 

Summary:  Initially, the closet had seemed like a great place to hide. Mulder had no idea Scully was claustrophobic. MSR

Abandoned House

Boston, Massachusetts

October 12th, 1997

8:36 P.M.

The head of the Boston police department requested their help after finding four similarly-maimed bodies in the span of a week. They normally wouldn’t think of this case as an X-File, but all four bodies were missing their internal organs. All of them. What added to the cases’ bizarre nature  was that there wasn’t a single incision mark on the body. Nothing indicating how the organs were harvested.

After a bit of investigating Mulder was certain that an ex-mafia member somehow, his reasoning still lost on Scully, was  able to extract the organs via some sort of suction through the nasal cavity. Scully agreed that there was trauma in the nose, but she was adamant that his theory was implausible.

Now, after a day of searching, Mulder was positive he found the old house the guy used to execute his crimes. Mulder felt it in his gut that the guy was in there with the most recent victim, and he didn’t think twice before barging into the house without the proper team, only Scully covering his back.

After picking the front door lock, they made their way down the hallway as silently as possible. Scully felt her heart hammering in her chest, but kept her calm exterior alert and ready for action. As Mulder was looking ahead, she routinely checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was coming up from behind them. She honestly had reservations about them entering the house alone, with the brutal nature of the crimes, but Mulder was a man on a mission and she knew at that point arguing would have been futile.

She was in the middle of checking the rear when her body fully collided with Mulder’s taller form. She looked up to see why he had stopped when she saw the intense look of focus on his face. He was looking down at the door handle by his waist. Just as she was about to ask what was wrong, she heard a grotesque slurping sound. He glanced back at her and signaled her to get ready. As soon as she gave her affirmation, he kicked the door in.

The sight in front of them was one of the most visceral they had ever seen. An average age man was laying in the middle of the room, obviously dead, and he looked deflated. The suspect was chewing on something in his mouth, the item still dangling out with blood running down his chin, as if he bit into a juicy peach. Strewn all around him were various body parts, but in a shredded state. Scully felt her stomach lurch at the violent brutality, and she could tell by Mulder’s blanched face that he was equally as disgusted.

“FBI. Put your hands behind your head and step away from the body,” Mulder’s voice rang out, breaking the silence. To the normal ear, his voice sounded strong and assured, but Scully could hear the fear lacing his words.

The suspect slowly stood up, with a malicious glint in his eye. Once to his feet, Scully felt her heart speed up when she realized how big this guy was. Mulder was a tall man, but he probably came up to this guy’s chin. He also looked still had the mafia physique and was bludging with muscles.

“Sir, spit out whatever’s in your mouth and move back,” she yelled out, trying to sound less perturbed than she really was.

The man looked Scully in the eye and slowly slurped the long tubular item into his mouth, making a loud smack with his lips after swallowing. Scully realized it had just been part of a large intestine that he just treated like spaghetti. Not breaking their eye contact, the man finally spoke up and sneered, “A heart always tastes better when it’s been beating fast. I bet yours would be delicious.”

Before Scully could process his comment, Mulder was yelling at him again, but with added fury from the comment, “Sir, don’t make us say it again. Put your hands up!”

Not paying any attention to the agents’ warnings, he took quick steps towards them, closing the distance. Mulder and Scully moved in tandem so that they were both back in the hallway. Scully shot a bullet, aimed at the man’s shoulder, and watched in horror as he wasn’t even slightly affected. Realizing that there was no stopping the man rapidly approaching them, they both took off towards the front door.

“Damn it!” Mulder screamed when the door wouldn’t give. Scully felt something nearing her back and, without missing a beat; took an empty Jack Daniels bottle from the end table near the door, whirled around, and shattered it on the mans face, temporarily blinding him. She quickly raised a leg and kicked his hunched over frame, sending him toppling to the ground.

Mulder took advantage of his moment of weakness to grab Scully’s arm and run down the stairs near them. It led to a dank cellar with rows and rows of shelves and doors. Scully could tell that, for once, Mulder was assuming hiding would be the best option. There was nowhere for them to run, he was too strong for them to take on alone, and Mulder was banking on the possibility he didn’t hear where they went.

At random, he opened one of the thick, shuttered doors, taking a quick glance to make sure there was enough room. Scully felt her veins run cold. She was insecure about letting her fears show to Mulder, and this was one that had conveniently never come up. She had been painfully claustrophobic her whole life. Being shoved in a closet by Donnie Pfaster and a trunk by Duane Barry certainly didn’t help her fear lessen over time. She never expect to be confronted with it during such extraneous circumstances. She quickly glanced in Mulder’s eyes and he immediately recognized the fear that must have shone through. Except, he assumed it was over the cannibalistic murder chasing them, so thinking he was doing her a favor, he quickly ushered her in, following suit, and closed the door behind them. She watched him attempt to test the doorknob, and noticed his wrist wasn’t turning. It could only be opened from the outside. They were trapped.

This closet was worse than Pfaster’s. It was devoid of anything, really it was more like a cell. It was relatively tall, from the dim light emitting between the cracks, she could see Mulder probably had probably a foot of room above him. But it lacked in every other aspect. It wasn’t deep or wide, so her back was pressed to one side wall and Mulder‘s was pressed to the other, their chests flush against each other. She also could tell there wasn’t enough room to spread out her wingspan. Essentially they were stuck in the positions they were in.

After fully assessing the situation, she instantaneously could feel a cold sweat breaking out. There is a murderer looking for me and all I can focus on is being inconvenienced. Looking down to avoid looking at Mulder, she didn’t want to worry him anymore than he already was, she tried to implement a relaxation technique she learned from Melissa as a child to help with anxiety.

Focus on five things you can feel. She inhaled deeply and felt her chest brush against Mulder’s, startling her. One, Mulder’s chest. She tried to backup a little bit to give them room and her back bumped harder against the wall behind her. Two, the side of the wall. She wasn’t feeling any better, and her hand raised up instinctively to grab at her cross as a nervous tick, but when she tried to move her hand, she ended up rubbing it against Mulder’s front. And he muttered a soft apology into her hair as she finally caught the gold chain. Three, Mulder’s leg. Four, Mulder’s breath. Five, my thin necklace chain.

Focus on four things you can hear. She focused on remaining still and taking in her surroundings. Mulder was trying really hard to even his breath, presumably so they wouldn’t be found. One, Mulder’s breath . Focusing harder, she realized the suspect must’ve not seen what direction they had went. He was pounding around up stairs and cursing under his breath. Two, footsteps. Her mind temporarily stopped as she heard the footsteps approach and descend into the cellar. A cruel irony at her thoughts a second ago. Her and Mulder were still as boards as the shadow navigated between the shelves. With luck that was usually never on their side, there was a rattle upstairs and he quickly ran to investigate. Three, rattling. She felt Mulder shift a little and it reminded her of how confined the space was. If it was bad for her, Mulder must be immobile. The thought made her heart beat erratically. Four, my damn heartbeat.

Focus on three things you can see. She strained her eyes a little, but it was a fruitless effort. There was barely any light seeping in from the cellar, so everything was just a faint glow, and she didn’t want to look around too much and have Mulder see how upset she was. One, darkness; Two, the silhouette of the shutters on the blinds; Three, Mulder’s ridiculous polka-dotted tie.

She knew the next two were two smells and one taste, but she gave up because the relaxation technique did nothing but remind her of her situation. She thought she heard the bolt to the front door open, and the door slam shut. She wanted to think that he left, but knew they couldn’t risk leaving just yet. They would have to wait in hiding for a bit. She started to feel her breath quickening against her will and yet again started squirming in an attempt to form some free space.

Mulder shifted slightly to lean down toward her ear and he whispered, “Scully are you okay?”

She tried to remain calm and evenly whispered back, “Yes. I’m just backed against a wall, could you backup a little bit?”

She saw him shake his head before she heard his response, “Mine’s flush against a wall too.”

She had to bite back a whimper of fear and she kept squirming from side to side, trying to find any hidden magic corner that would pop up and give her more room. The more she struggled, she more frantic she became, and the more frantic she became the more she tried to alleviate the situation.

Unexpectedly, she felt Mulder’s hands grip her hips with a vigor she wasn’t used to. Between gritted teeth he pleaded, “Scully, you have to stop moving around like that.”

Now cemented in one place, even if it was by the hands of he man she trusted and loved above all else, she felt the claustrophobia overwhelming her. She felt her composure slipping and couldn’t bring herself to care if Mulder saw or not. She put her hands on his shoulders like a vice and raised her head to face the ceiling in an attempt to get fresh air. Out of her control, she heard her breaths coming in and out in shaking, quiet gasps that sounded like sobs.

When she felt a tear roll down her cheek, she realized that she actually was crying. Assessing that she was a few steps away from a full blown panic attack she tried to even her breathing, but it wasn’t really working.

She felt Mulder’s hands soften a bit, and she was sure his self-blaming nature assumed he caused this. He confirmed her suspicions with a remorseful whisper, “Scully, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Scully shook her head in reassurance, “No, no. It’s not you.” She saw him working out her words before realization graced his face.

“Oh my god. Scully, are you claustrophobic?” he asked incredulously. He was rewarded with a shaky confirmation.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m so sorry,” he lamented in a whisper.

“It’s not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this,” she tried to sound confident, but her voice a little too high for the effect.

He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, “What can I do to help?”

The closet in an abandoned house

Boston, Massachusetts

October 12th 1997

A few moments earlier

Mulder prefered to tackle most issues head on, but after seeing the massive guy take a bullet with no effect whatsoever, he figured running away would be the better option.  As soon as he was in the cellar, he already knew he didn’t make the best choice. He was going to get up any time now.

Taking a chance, he ran to one of the closets bordering the room. Upon opening it, he realized this was a pathetic excuse of a closet, but the look in Scully’s eyes told him they were running out of time, so he shoved her in and closed the door.

Immediately his senses were overwhelmed with everything Scully, and he realized maybe they should try hiding anywhere else. He reached towards the knob and felt it remain stationary in his hand. Damn it.

He looked down to see Scully, but was only met with the top of her head. She’s probably just trying to remain as quiet as possible so we aren’t heard. He slowly exhaled and tried to figure out what to do with his hands. This was a really bad situation that was only getting worse. First there was a massive cannibal on the loose looking for them and he was trapped in a confined space with Scully. In his fantasies this would be great, but with how flush their bodies currently were to one another, this could get embarrassing.

All the sudden he felt her hand rush up his leg and he jerked a little bit. He glanced down and saw she had simply been reaching towards her necklace. He could only assume she was worried about the situation his irrationality had gotten them into and was finding solace in her faith. “Sorry,” he offered.

They stood in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the man stumbling around upstairs, stiffening when the steps came close to the stairs. He felt every second pass in slow motion as he and Scully watched the man search for them through the shelves. He felt his arms stiffen around his holster, ready to pounce in front of Scully if the time came. However, he didn’t get the opportunity because a rattle from upstairs distracted the man, sending him bolting out of the cellar.

They remained tense for a few moments, waiting to make sure he wasn’t coming back. He heard the front door open and slam and took that as a sign the coast may be clear temporarily. By the way Scully started squirming, she probably thought the same, “Scully, are you okay?”

She finally raised her head up a little and responded, “Yes. I’m just back against a wall, could you backup a little bit?”

Mulder leaned a little to test, but his back was already as pressed as it could get. “Mine’s flush against a wall too.”

She didn’t say anything, but she soon thereafter started squirming from side to side. He tried to ignore it when their life was in imminent danger, but now that they were in a moment of reprieve, he could only focus on Scully.

He felt her breasts pushed up against the bottom of his chest, and her lithe form slightly entangled with his own. The smell he always yearned to get a whiff of was now permeating the small space. It was what he designated as Scullysmell, something fresh, probably her body wash, mixed with something inexplicably her.

She kept moving from side to side in an attempt, he could only presume, to get comfortable. He wasn’t sure if she was oblivious to it or just ignoring it, but his body was flaring up in response to her movements. He felt his erection flaring up, harder than before, and pressing fervently into her hips, which were exacerbating his problem with each gyration.

Her undulating form became too much when pressure was applied a little too hard to the the wrong, perfect, place. In a flash, his hands came up to grab her hips, with a little more force than he usually would ever use towards her.

Gritting his teeth, trying to hide the arousal from his voice he pleaded, “Scully, you have to stop moving around like that.” He hoped she would catch his drift without this becoming awkward. She was a medical doctor after all, she had to understand.

For a moment, he thought she was mad at him because she stood still like a statue, but under his palms he felt her slightly trembling. Then, as quickly as he grabbed her, he felt her hands come up and clutch his shoulders. Looking down at her in confusion, he saw her head tilt all the way upwards and heard sounds emanating from her throat that eerily sounded like hyperventilation.

The tear that rolled down her cheek was what made the guilt really seep in. First he ran into this house without asking her, then he forced her into this ridiculously small closet, now he practically snapped at her while ramming his dick into her abdomen. He loosened his grip on her waist and tried to apologize, “Scull, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

He felt her hair dance on his chest as she shook her head in rebuttal. In an un-Scully like whisper, she sighed, “No, no. It’s not you.”

Mulder was thrown for a loop trying to understand what could make his normally unperturbed partner so upset. He could tell she was disgusted at the gore upstairs, but as a medical doctor, it wasn’t really that out of her element. She had been in worse life threatening situations than this before and it didn’t evoke this reaction before. His mind went back to the possibility that he was making her uncomfortable, but she had just assured him that wasn’t the case. Then, it hit him, she was exhibiting the classic symptoms of claustrophobia, but they were very open to one and other and he had never heard her mention it.

It slipped out before he had more time to process, “Oh my god, Scully, are you claustrophobic?” Her nod was all the answer he needed.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me? I’m so sorry,” he apologized. She hadn’t been looking at him in fear over the situation earlier, she was terrified to go in the closet. When the door didn’t open, it probably just made the situation a hundred times worse for her. She was on the verge of a panic attack and it was all his fault.

Scully must have sensed his internal battle and, as always, tried to make him feel better, “It’s not your fault. You probably saved our lives, I just hate this.” Her voice almost came out controlled, but her heighten pitch gave away her fear.

She was always so strong to make him feel better. It’s not fair to her. He planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head and whispered, “What can I do to help?”

She paused a moment to contemplate before responding, “Since it’s been awhile since we last heard him, do you think you could call the Boston P.D and let them know the full situation?”

Of course, even in a state of panic, she is more rational than I am.   He nodded and pulled out his cell phone, redialing the local cop they’ve been investigating alongside. After filling the cop in, he was met with slight disbelief from the other side, “You trapped yourself in a closet.”

Rubbing slow circles onto Scully’s hip with his thumb, he responded, “I didn’t know it would lock behind us and it seemed like a good idea at the time. We’re alive, so I don’t think it’s the worst plan I’ve had,” Glancing down at Scully’s white-knuckled grip on his tie had him second guessing that statement. “Look, you need to issue an APB on our suspect and come and get us out. Bring the medical examiners for the body too, warn them it’s a bloodbath,” he sighed, hanging up the phone.

“Are they coming?” She asked, still trying to act nonchalant, but sounding a little breathy.

“Yeah, he said they are on the other side of town, but that it won’t be too long,” he reassured. Placing a hand on the side of her face, he prompted her to look at him. “Hey, tell me what’s bothering you. You help me with everything, let me do something for you. It will help to vocalize your thoughts,” he hoped he wasn’t making her more uncomfortable. She did so much for him and he loved her so much for it, whether she knew it or not, he only wanted to provide the same thing for her.

Scully was never one to be vocal, he knew that. So asking this of her was asking for a lot. He could tell she was searching for the right words, but in this moment, he noticed she was slightly distracted from the situation and that’s all he wanted.

“Um, I’ve always been claustrophobic. Sometimes the job requires me to be in small spaces, but usually it’s over before it begins,” she started. “When I was six, I was playing hide and seek and I thought hiding in the hamper would be a great idea.”

Her breath was evening out as she told the story, and he treasured hearing her talk about her past, so he prompted her to continue, “What happened?”

“Um, Bill thought it would be funny to set a cooler full of ice on top of the hamper so I couldn’t get out. He forgot about it after a few minutes, he was just a kid, and him and Charlie went out and rode their bikes,” I’ve never wanted to smack a kid before this moment . “I screamed, and screamed, but no one was home and I was so afraid I would run out of air. I think I hyperventilated and passed out.”

He ran his fingers through her hair and massaged the sides of her neck, hoping distracting her was helping, and trying to ignore the reaction his body was having to this full Scully-immersion. He wanted to hear more, “So what ended up happening?”

“Missy came home from the mall and tried to throw her clothes in the hamper and found me instead. She woke me up and asked me what happened. When I started crying while telling her, she found Bill and beat him up,” she chuckled at the memory. Mulder felt a wave of adoration towards the late-Scully sister.

“And that’s when your claustrophobia started?” he asked.

She nodded, “Yeah, I think it was exacerbated by my time with Duane Barry and Donnie Pfaster,” he felt unresolved anger rise at the thought of those two men, but instead chose to relish in Scully’s openness.

“Have you ever found anything that helped?”

She contemplated this for a minute, “Well, I feel a little better having you talk to me right now. Once I was waiting in a line and my friend massaged my back and it helped,” she mentioned, her words a little softer at the end.

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he gently, and carefully, maneuvered her around.

Realizing his intent, she quickly reassured, “Mulder you don’t have to do this. I-”

He silenced her with a soft “shhh” and placed his hands on her scalp. He was going to start from top to as far down as the space would allow.

On multiple occasions, he caught Scully reading something with a hand under her hair. It took a few instances of her doing it for him to realize she was slowly raking her fingernails over her scalp. Many women considered their hair and scalp an erogenous zone.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, because it could lead him to a downward spiral, he started on his mission. Using the slight nails he had, he gently moved his fingers in delicate circles across her scalp, paying close attention to her hairline. He heard a soft sigh and wanted to make sure she wasn’t trying to hide anything.

“Am I doing okay?” he asked, hoping his self conscious nature wasn’t noticeable. She moved ever so slightly under his ministrations and mumbled a soft affirmation.

He moved down a little slightly so he was at the base of her neck, where her hair ended. She allowed her head to rest against the wall in front of her, giving him better access. He moved the pads of his fingers across the milky expanse of her neck, grinning to himself when he noticed a light layer of goosebumps had covered her skin.

He allowed his full palms to cover her shoulder, and his long fingers draped onto her thin collarbone. He could honestly say without any hesitation that he had never given anyone a massage before. He was nervous that it could be taken as an elaborate version of copping a feel, so he added pressure and tried to press on any muscle groups he felt.

Moving away from her shoulders and upper back, he took one arm in his hands and gently massaged his way down. When he got to her hands, he took the time to massage her palm and every individual finger before repeating the process on her other side. He reveled in the feel of her dainty hand swallowed in his much larger ones.

Mulder felt selfish for how much he was enjoying being able to touch her like this, but from the way her breath seemed to be deep and low, he figured it was helping at least a little.

Finishing up her arms, he resumed where he left off on her back. As soon as his palms met the curve of her waist, he had to suppress every dirty fantasy he’s ever had involving his hands in a very similar place, but their bodies connected in other ways. Coughing lightly, he applied pressure to the delicate and strong muscles beneath her clothes. Mulder’s hands stilted a little when he thought he heard a soft moan come from the petite woman’s mouth.

“Am I hurting you?” He asked, feeling embarrassed at how low and rough his voice came out.

He felt himself grow impossibly harder when her voice came out the same way, “N-no, not at all. Keep going. Please.”

He moved tentatively down to her lower back, using both of his thumbs to massage a circle where he knew her tattoo was. He slid forward to a part of her body that was body safe and risque at the same time: the area where her hips connected to her legs. Too far back and his hands would be on her butt, too far forwards and he could get punched in the face. He just ran pressure-filled fingers up and down the area. He quickly realized through the thin material of her pants something that would be fuel for many nights to come; Dana Katherine Scully, his beloved partner, wore thongs to work.

His mind temporarily stopped working, but before he had time to resume his impromptu massage, three things happened within a five second span. First, Scully, whether intentional or not he still doesn’t know, pressed her well-rounded ass right onto his erection. Second, the door to the closet swung open, blinding them with light. Third, Scully and Mulder, who had been so engrossed in what they had been doing and were now faced with the possibility of the killer finding them, were so taken aback that they screamed their lungs out right in the face of the Boston cop who just tried rescued them.

“Umm, sorry to interrupt Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, but we found your guy a few blocks over and we have him on the way to the station for questioning,” a young cop muttered as quickly as possible, trying to avoid looking them in the eyes.

He kept his profile to the side, relying on Scully’s shocked form to hide the monster in his pants from the young cop in front of him. Glancing down at Scully, he patted himself on the back when he noticed her face was flush, not just from embarrassment, and her eyes were glazed over. He also noticed that her bottom lip looked red and abused, like she had been biting on it. The mental picture was almost too much for him, but Scully’s voice broke him out of his reviere, “Thank you. I assume the crime scene is being examined upstairs? We will meet you there in a moment, we want to make sure nothing else is down here.” The cop nodded and hastily took the excuse presented to leave.

He turned to look at Scully, whose eyes were already focused on him. He was about to open his mouth to apologize for taking it too far, when Scully placed a gentle kiss on his lips. His face broke into, what he was sure to be, the goofiest smile to ever grace his face. Looking down at her in bewilderment she smiled back.

“Thank you Mulder, but I’m afraid you weren't able to finish. We’ll have to resume this later,” she teased before walking to the staircase, leaving a very excited and happy Mulder in her wake.

[alecmagnuslwb]

New Year’s Eve: Chapter Four

Read it all on AO3 or previous ch. 1, 2, 3

One magical night, five intertwining love stories, all culminating at midnight with just maybe some confessions and kisses as the clock strikes.

This chapter: The next two chapters very much go hand in hand, this time we find Maia, who’s very much in love with girlfriend Clary and very much thinking about marrying her in the very near future, helping her spiraling boss Maryse track down the man who’s quite possibly the great love of her life. Problem is she let him slip away without even learning his name last New Year’s Eve.

***

4 P.M., New Year’s Eve

Maryse Trueblood is not a woman to live with regret. She’s sacrificed a lot in her life to get where she is, she’s done it for this publishing company she proudly heads into the future, for her children and for herself. Every mistake has been a learning experience, every misstep a trial to overcome and give her extra strength to push forward. She doesn’t regret. Hell, she doesn’t even regret the years she wasted on Robert, because those lead to this company and her four beautiful, successful children.

She’s felt regret twice, last New Year’s Day and right now, in this moment with four passes to a New Year’s Eve party that a messenger just dropped off. Because it’s four passes she doesn’t know what to do with, two of her children will be there working more than partying, the other two are somewhat hesitantly spending the holiday with their father and that leaves Maryse all alone. And she can’t help but think if she’d just given her name and number to the handsome possible man of her dreams she met last year she’d have someone to spend the evening with.

She has friends, even after the divorce and some of them choosing to follow Robert’s money instead of her, but most of them have children and partners of their own to spend the evening with. It feels a lot like last year except with no work to occupy her for most of the night she’s so much more poignantly aware of it just being her.

She paces the floor of her office in a bit of a hurried panic thinking about the prior New Year’s Eve. The divorce had finally after almost four damn years of heated court battles gone through and she’d worked herself to the bone to ignore the New Year ready to put the messy divorce and the baggage with it firmly behind her. She’d ended up in a random diner after strolling around the city and then quite literally stumbled into a tall handsome man with the widest smile she’d ever seen.

They’d talked quiet and honest for hours about silly things, but also about their kids, the stranger being a single parent as well, but for much longer than she had, before Max had called asking Maryse to come get him from his dads after a major argument broke out. She’d rushed away leaving the handsome stranger who she’d had an inexplicable connection to behind without so much as her name, let alone a way to contact her.

She hadn’t regretted the choice all year, even if she found her mind wander occasionally to warm brown eyes and an unfairly attractive trimmed beard. It hadn’t just been a rush of forgetfulness in some ways not telling the stranger how to find her had been purposeful.

While she and Robert hadn’t been together for years, and the divorce had just been a final seal on a thing that had been no more than an image of happiness for the public eye for damn near a decade, she still inexplicably felt like it was too soon. Robert may have moved on before the word divorce was even thrown into the ring, but Maryse wasn’t ready, or she convinced herself she wasn’t, convinced herself that she had to think about Max first, about the idea of introducing a new man into his life first, he may be nearly eighteen, but he’s still her baby and always her priority.

Of course all that slipped away the next morning when she’d casually mentioned the idea of her dating and her youngest had simply shrugged, “Dad’s a dick, you deserve someone who makes you happy.” He’d said it so easy, with a rare kiss to her cheek and Maryse felt that first twinge of regret, realizing that she may have left the someone who could make her happy alone in a diner with no way of finding her.

And now she’s feeling it again. Her pacing increases her mind racing with ways that she might be able to track down her mystery man, she only knows bare facts, she’s not nearly as technically savvy as she should be and frankly describing him would probably get her nowhere and just make her sound like a lovesick teenager. She’s so in her head she doesn’t even hear her office door open her assistant popping her head in and freezing on the spot when she notices Maryse’s state.

***

Maia packs the last of her things into her backpack ready to head out for the evening. She’s already changed into her glittery dress and dark red tights for the evening’s semi-formal couch surfing plans. She sends a quick text to her girlfriend, Clary, letting her know that she’s about to head out. It’s their second New Year’s together, this time around spending it with Clary’s lovely, welcoming father and Maia can’t help but hope for a lifetime full of New Year’s Eve’s with the gorgeous redhead. Forever and Clary are two words she’s very, very recently been stringing together and she can’t say any part of it sounds bad, a lifetime with Clary Garroway sounds like a dream come true.

She lets out a no doubt dreamy sigh at the thought, smiling brightly as Clary’s response comes through with just a string of varying colored hearts intermingled with x’s and o’s. Her girlfriend is just the cutest person in the world.

She lifts her bag heading to her boss’s glass door the blinds shut. She knocks quietly earning no response, but figuring it’s safe to head in anyways. Despite her formidable appearance, Maryse Trueblood, formerly Lightwood, is actually an incredibly kind woman to work for, she has a fierce, terrifying side, but it’s only saved for those who would question her authority, particularly since she left her husband and took full control of Lightwood Publishing. She’s easily the best boss Maia’s ever had; she likes her so much she didn’t even mind coming in today for a few hours.

She pokes her head in and freezes when she sees Maryse pacing the floor at a concerningly rapid pace. Maryse is a lot of things frazzled which is how she looks now, is not one of those things.

“Maryse,” she says calmly which stops Maryse’s pacing abruptly. She swivels to face Maia as she enters the office fully, shutting the door behind her. “Are you alright?”

Maryse shakes her head way too quickly, “Of course,” she says putting on an epically fake smile. It’s the one Maia’s seen her sport many a times in meetings with ignorant authors or overpaid agents with egos. “You should head out, wouldn’t want to steal anymore of your holiday.”

Maia knows she should go, should take the opportunity to head out, but she looks at Maryse and just can’t leave the woman whose kind of become a pseudo mother figure alone in this state that she’s poorly attempting to conceal.

“You know, whatever it is that’s bothering you,” Maia starts off.

“Nothing’s bothering me,” Maryse interjects, but Maia keeps going. Most bosses would find it insolent, but Maryse has always appreciated and found Maia’s bluntness refreshing telling her often it reminds her of her own children.

“I’m sure I can fix it,” she continues on. “You didn’t get me that world’s best assistant mug for nothing.” She adds on cheekily thinking of the brightly colored mug in the shades of the bi pride flag sitting on her desk that Maryse had gotten her for Christmas last year, she’d also given Maia a $5,000 dollar bonus, but somehow the mug had meant so much more. It was an acceptance and appreciation of her.

Maryse smiles at that, a real smile.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, world’s best assistant,” she says warmly.

Maia just shrugs, “I’m gonna worry about you whether I stay and you tell me or I go. No one should be left alone pacing in their office on New Year’s Eve without at least a chance to vent.”

Maia’s stubborn too, another thing her boss has always seemed to appreciate.

And then at that it’s like the dam breaks. Maryse lets out a fond, annoyed huff and then she’s spilling it all out in a ramble, which is a thing Maia’s never heard Maryse do. She’s telling her about a mystery man who could just be her ideal match she’d met last year that she’d never told anyone about, about the regret she’s feeling and how it’s all just sort of hit her in the last twenty minutes since she received passes to one of the hottest parties in the world.

Eventually she runs out of steam and Maia finds herself asking the dumbest question she could out of all the things she just heard.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how did you even get passes to the Edom Records New Year’s party?” Maia asks and sort of wants to put the words back in her mouth immediately.

“My almost son-in-law or future son-in-law if he and my son who’s actually catering the event never manage to get their head’s out their asses sent them to me,” Maryse says with a genuine smile seeming to not mind, before divulging back into her pacing. “My daughter is actually performing backup tonight as well.” She adds as forethought like she suddenly remembers the fact as her pacing picks up speed.

For a moment Maia considers going, forcing her boss to the party to see her children and just heading out to the evening she’s been looking forward to, but something in her makes her want to stay. Whether it’s a loyalty to Maryse and or the romantic inside of her that has her saying her next words she’s not sure, but she knows she won’t regret them.

“Maybe I can help you track him down tonight,” she says and Maryse stops pacing again.

“Oh no,” she says stepping to Maia placing her hands on her shoulders in a warm motherly gesture. “I don’t want to ruin your evening on some wild goose chase. There’s no way we’d ever find him, but thank you.”

“I’m a millennial with way too much social media knowledge, you could know he likes turtles and has eyes and there’s a chance I could track him down,” she says with confidence which makes Maryse laugh. “And if all else fails we go over to that diner and maybe he’s there waiting for you to show up.”

Maryse looks skeptical which Maia finds insane. There’s no way Maryse didn’t leave an impact as strongly on her mystery man as he left on her. She’s a gorgeous, well-dressed force of nature with an unexpected wit and softness to her, she bets the guys been pining all year long.

“I don’t know, you’re off the clock and your girlfriend is waiting I can’t ask that of you,” Maryse says dropping her arms.

“You’re not asking,” Maia says standing her ground, refusing to back down on this. “I’m offering, off the clock.”

Maryse lets out a breath eyeing Maia in a stare down that she refuses to break. Eventually Maryse cracks and Maia feels a tiny burst of pride that she’s won this one.

“Fine,” she says as Maia happily claps her hands together dropping her backpack to the floor and already moving to the door to head to her desk and log on to every social media platform she knows. “But,” Maryse says as she follows behind her. “You get these tickets as a payment, take your girlfriend to a free fancy party.”

“I don’t need you to pay me for this,” Maia says as she logs back on to her computer.

Maryse rolls her eyes leaning against Maia’s desk, “Then consider it a thank you and not a payment.”

Maia concedes, knowing that while she won the first battle, Maryse will always win the war especially if Maia tries to turn down those tickets.

“Okay, but you’re keeping one for yourself, just in case.”

Maryse rolls her eyes again but accepts the compromise as Maia begins rattling off a list of questions about Maryse’s mystery man intent to find him somewhere out there. She texts Clary telling her she has some emergency work that might keep her longer than originally planned, assuring that she’ll be there to kiss her at midnight guaranteed.

***

Maryse watches with fondness and a little bit of awe in the way Maia understands how to manage every social media platform so well as she lists off question after question about any tidbit Maryse can provide her with about the man she met that night.

She sends the last straggling messenger in the building to an address Maia gives her with two of the tickets for her girlfriend and girlfriend’s father. She smiles as Maia reads a message on her phone likely from her girlfriend with a lovesick smile on her lips. Oh, to be young and in love. She hopes for Maia’s sake that this young love is a lasting one. She can see how happy Maia’s been in the past year and some change since she met Clary.

She’s grown quite fond of her assistant of three years, has come to think of her as another child in a lot of ways especially since she learned of Maia’s strained relationships with her own parents. She wants only good things for her, and that’s a growing feeling as she watches Maia delay her plans just to try and help Maryse even a little bit.

She answers Maia’s questions easily as her fingers fly over the keyboard logging in to social media sites Maryse has never even heard of. While she hadn’t meant to spill her guts out in a rush to her assistant she finds it nice to finally talk about the encounter and the man who’s not strayed far from her thoughts all year. The inexplicable connection that formed so quickly and the way he seemed just as stunned by how easily they’d connected.

She tells Maia everything she can recall, from his little life tidbits like his profession in the NYPD, which she doesn’t know exactly the nature of, to his appearance:

“Tall, African American with a gorgeous smile and great arms,” she says making Maia waggle her eyebrows.

She even tosses in little things she noticed, quirks and silly things they discussed that didn’t matter, but make up a person as a whole.

“He takes his coffee black, said he loves horror movies with clowns and judging from the four slices he ate in our brief time together I’d say key lime pie is his favorite,” she says and this time Maia gives her a fond, sappy look that has Maryse turning her head with a blush.

Maia scours the internet for almost three hours finding a plethora of men who match some of the aspects, but narrowing it down to a little over half a dozen who hold a few more than the others. Eventually Facebook leads her to three men who match right down to very specific posts about their love for key lime pie, but none of their images match the mystery man Maryse knows or wants to know even better.

Maia let’s out a sigh glancing at the clock in the corner of her screen. Maryse is about to tell her it’s a lost cause, tell her to just go to the party and have a nice night, but Maia has other ideas suddenly standing up from her chair, phone in hand.

“What’d you say the name of the diner was?”

“Rey’s, with an e instead of an a,” Maryse says. “Why?”

“Well,” she starts typing away on her phone likely looking for an address. “It’s nearly nine, and even with the holiday traffic we can probably make it across town by ten or so which is roughly around the time you met last year, so hopefully he’s smittenly waiting around since he’s clearly not spending his time on the internet.”

“Maia,” Maryse starts ready to oppose.

“We’re going,” Maia says as she throws on her coat with a pointed look that reminds Maryse so much of the ones her own children have been throwing in her direction for years when they won’t let something go.

And just like she does so often with her children. Maryse relents.

“If all else fails you’re coming to the party with me, Clary’s dad is an attractive, single dude and I’m sure he’d live up to your mister mystery man,” Maia muses as she grabs her wallet and keys from the desk leaving her backpack behind and pulling Maryse’s coat down from the rack by the door.

She stands behind her practically forcing the coat on, which if Maia were almost anyone else Maryse would be deeply annoyed by the action, before linking their arms together and pulling Maryse out the door and into the chilly cheerful night atmosphere with a smile filled with hope. It gives Maryse hope that maybe, just maybe Maia’s right and her mystery man will be there waiting.

***

When Maia’s phone tells them they have arrived at their destination Maryse’s heart drops into her stomach. Because right there where a small, slightly tacky diner sat just one year ago is an empty sectioned off lot.

The diner is gone and with it her mystery man.

Maia twirls around, mumbling to herself that this can’t be right. That they must have gotten the address wrong or Maryse misremembered the name of the diner.

Maryse reaches out stopping Maia’s twirling and angry typing into her GPS.

“No, this is it,” she says, the words coming out sadder than she had intended. She recalls the little bookstore next door and the bakery with the bright pink awning across the street. It’s all still here, just like it was last year. Everything except the diner.

“What kind of business doesn’t put up a notice online that they’re no longer open,” Maia says frustratedly gesturing wildly at the empty space. “Or that they’re no longer even a building!” she yells actually catching the attention of a few passerby’s that she simply waves off with a growl.  

“Probably the kind that were never very good at that sort of thing in the first place which lead them to going out of business,” Maryse says with a sad smile. She stands there dejectedly looking at the rubble that’s left behind and all that hope that Maia’s bright smile had given just slips away.

***

As Maryse dejectedly sighs at the remnants of the building Maia looks around, just hoping to spot some handsome mystery man waiting around that vaguely fits Maryse’s description, but there’s just the bustle of New Year’s partiers, no stillness, no romantic reunions on the horizon. She does however spot a flash of red hair at a distance that for a brief moment she thinks might be Clary but shoves away the possibility as she feels Maryse move beside. Her attention switches to her boss as she moves to sit down on the curb, head hung low.

She settles beside her on the curb, people shuffling around them and just barely bypassing where they sit. They sit there quietly for a while, nearly an hour, Maia uncertain of what to say.

“Here,” Maryse says eventually reaching into her inside jacket pocket. She pulls out the two remaining party passes and holds them out for Maia to take. “You should go, have fun with your girl, don’t waste your whole night away.”

Maia shakes her head pushing Maryse’s hand with the passes down gently, “I can’t just leave you out here. What if he shows up here looking for you too?”

Maryse smiles at her kindly, “I don’t think so.”

“I mean you said the connection felt mutual so maybe,” Maia starts unwilling to let Maryse just give up like this. She’s never been a big romantic in the past, but Clary has made her one and listening to the way Maryse talked about her mystery man she can’t just let her quit now.

“It’s okay,” Maryse says reaching out a hand to hold Maia’s cheek gently in a tender motherly way. “If fate wants me to find him again then I’ll find him, just not tonight. So, go have fun, dance the rest of your night away and kiss your girlfriend at midnight. Don’t sit on a dirty sidewalk with your boss.”

Her hand drops holding out the two passes again, this time Maia takes them.

“Fine, but you’re coming with me,” Maia says still stubbornly refusing to leave her boss behind. Maryse is quick to shake her head, but Maia persists. “There’s two here passes, plenty for you to come along. Just because you didn’t find Mr. Right tonight doesn’t mean you have to spend New Year’s Eve on a dirty sidewalk alone.”

Maryse smiles at her softly standing up from the curb dusting off the back of her dress before holding out a hand to help Maia up.

“Let’s go then, we already missed a no doubt incredible dinner done by my son,” she says as Maia takes her hand rising from the curb to join her. “Let’s not miss the free drinks too.”

Maia smiles, still feeling a little sad for Maryse, but happy she’s agreed to at least try and have some fun with what remains of the night. As she once again links her arm with Maryse’s she hopes against everything that Maryse is right, that fate can play a hand one day and she’ll find her mystery man even if it isn’t tonight.

***

The walk across town to the Edom records party is quiet. Maia is clearly giving her the space to talk if she wants but letting a comfortable silence wash over them if she doesn’t. She’s grateful for the gesture, it allows her mind to clear and to let the disappointment slide and instead grant her the serenity to feel content. To know that even if she didn’t find the man she’d shared a connection with last year, she’s ready to share a connection like that with someone again. And tonight she can just look forward to the New Year and its new possibilities. Take a bit of her daughters’ beautiful optimism about the holiday to heart.

It’s a long walk to the party, Maryse grateful for her comfortable shoes, but once they arrive they easily slip inside from the south entrance. It’s nearly eleven already, most of the night gone and done, a thing she hopes Maia doesn’t mind.

They enter the main hall through a side door avoiding a dessert delivery that the bouncer tells them might get in their way and Magnus is just closing out one last slow song. A song Maryse has heard a time or two and known exactly who it’s about. The music ends just as a waiter passes them with a tray of champagne that Maia immediately plucks two glasses from handing one to Maryse.

She tosses it back looking across the room and spotting her son bolting out of the door, a few moments pass and suddenly Magnus appears pushing his way through the crowd to seemingly chase after him, gaining everyone’s attention the way he always does. It’s always been one of her favorite things about Magnus, how all eyes are on him but in the time she’s known him his eyes were ever only on Alec.

She smiles hoping they work things out finally. The night may have not gone her way for romance, but she hopes it goes there’s. Maia also scans the room not watching the scene Maryse is, eventually tossing back her champagne as some DJ starts up a round of dance music to fill the space and she lights up with a smile as she points to a redhead in a pale pink dress on the dance floor.

“There’s my girl,” she says fondly. “Come on, let’s dance.” Maia grabs Maryse by the hand pulling her forward before she can protest. They near closer to Clary when she reaches out to someone, she pulls a man towards her his back now covering their view of the redhead.

The man spins her, a laugh that’s deep and rumbling carrying out over the music as they get close enough to hear.

“It’s just like when you were little, still a shrimp,” the man says and Maryse freezes. The voice so achingly familiar that she convinces herself it’s her mind playing tricks on her.

Maia raises an eyebrow turning to look at her when she stops dead in her tracks no doubt about to make some remark about not wanting to dance when the man and Clary turn so he’s facing their way. Then it’s his turn to freeze.

“It’s you,” he says and Maryse widens her eyes in disbelief. The familiarity of his voice not a trick of the mind as the face she’s been imagining for a year stands right before her.

“And it’s you,” she replies unsure of what to say. Maia is looking between them wide eyed seemingly having an internal freak out about this turn of events. What a small world it is that Maryse’s mystery man is she assumes Clary’s dad.

Maia’s likely berating herself for not putting together the pieces. It’s a thing Maryse will have to reassure her about later, but right now she needs to do something she hadn’t done a year ago.

She tosses back her glass of champagne sitting the empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray, the action makes the man chuckle that deep rumbling laugh again. She steps forward letting go of Maia as he does the same to Clary.

“I’m Maryse,” she says holding out a hand that he immediately takes in a soft, but firm hold. “Maryse Trueblood.”

He smiles, that big bright smile she remembers so clearly.

“Luke Garroway.”

***

Maia watches speechless and wide eyed as Maryse and Luke’s eyes meet. It takes her moment, but suddenly the penny drops.

Luke is Maryse’s mystery man. Maia frankly has never felt stupider. The signs and connections all seeming so clear as she watches Maryse hold out a hand and finally introduce herself. She shuffles to stand next to Clary both too transfixed and stunned by the picture before them to even greet one another.

Maryse’s mystery man worked for the NYPD, up until February of this year Luke had been a detective on the force. His description was apt, a picture of Luke should have come to mind as Maryse described her mystery man. The single parent thing, the daughter he adores, even the way he takes his coffee all those facts together without the pressure of social media mining to find an unknown man paint the image of the man she hopes to call her father-in-law someday soon. The key lime pie thing is the only part that doesn’t add up, Luke’s always been a cookie over all dessert’s kind of man, so she doesn’t know where that came from.

Of course it all makes sense now why they had no hits on the social media front, Luke notoriously hates all forms of the internet that dig into someone’s personal life.

“Um, what’s happening?” Clary says pulling Maia out of her thoughts.

“I believe your dad is my boss’s mystery dream man she met last New Year’s Eve,” Maia replies watching as Maryse and Luke shyly speak.

“The diner dame?” Clary exclaims turning to look at Maia who raises an eyebrow in question. “That’s what I’ve been calling her since dad told me about her.” Maia snickers. “It seemed cool at the time, whatever. He swore me to secrecy about it even though he’s been pining all year. I even made him swing by the diner earlier and we saw it was torn down.”

Maia hums, realizing that flash of red hair she spotted may not have been Clary, but Clary had been to the rubble that was Rey’s earlier.

“I wasn’t technically working, I just wanted to save Maryse the embarrassment if tonight didn’t work out. I was trying to help her find her mystery man,” Maia explains. “Which in hindsight probably should have been a lot easier than the research and literal across town searching we’ve been doing all evening.”

“What a small world,” Clary muses as she turns briefly back to them with a soft smile. Her dad’s happiness has always been such a priority for her. Maia hums in agreement pulling Clary’s hand and tilting her head indicating they leave the reunited pair to it.

Clary smiles stepping a few paces away and leaning into Maia to wrap her arms around her neck, Maia’s automatically landing on Clary’s waist.

“I didn’t realize you were such a romantic, helping your boss find true love,” Clary singsongs with a cheeky smile.

Maia rolls her eyes, “It’s entirely your fault. You made me this way.”

Clary snorts her nose scrunching up in that cute way it does sometimes and that Maia is impossibly in love with before leaning in to place a quick sweet kiss on Maia’s lips.

Maia tips their foreheads together sparing a quick glance to the side where Maryse and Luke have moved their way over to a vacant table both grinning from ear to ear. She moves her eyes back to Clary swaying to the music now playing not really dancing in time with it, but enjoying every second of it all the same. She’s so content and happy to have inadvertently helped her boss find her mystery man and warm in the arms of the woman she loves.

[sugar-coated-galaxies]

Lil vent post bc I just. Need to get it out ig

[arizonatotoronto]

legalization of weed in canada means stoned sex.... right?😄

SO, I decided I wanted to do this prompt but with the boys making and eating edibles. NSFW! 

(Everything in this particular headcanon comes from my own experiences and may differ from others’, of course.)

The legalization of weed in Canada is pretty cool, but not exactly life changing for Auston and most of the people he knows.

Like, it means he and Mitch can grow a plant or two if they want, but as far as Auston is concerned, anyone who'd wanted to smoke the stuff has been smoking it already, legal or not.

It's the truth for most of the team, anyway. Auston and Mitch included.

For the most part, Auston will smoke the occasional joint during the season if it's offered to him, and he's not super secretive about using it to relax while he's been nursing various injuries. Weed is fantastic for pain. It's something the NHL tests for, but doesn't exactly punish, and while Auston isn't huge on smoking while training or competing (he needs his lungs functioning at their max), it has its uses.

It's early into the 2018 season when Auston goes down with another fucking bummed shoulder. His friends suggest trying CBD oils, which would definitely help with the pain and are super easy to order online now -- which, yeah. Canada is awesome. There's also the bonus of not having to smoke it to reap the medicinal benefits.

The thing is, Auston's got some good bud laying around at home already, and a tried and true butter recipe that won't stink up the place too bad. It's been a pretty long time since he's had edibles, and just thinking about that amazing full-body high has him popping out to the grocery store to grab cheesecloth and cookie ingredients.

It's definitely not the kind of recipe his Mama had had in mind when she'd given him a Crockpot for Christmas the previous year, but what Ema Matthews doesn't know can't exactly hurt her.

Auston starts making the butter fairly early in the morning, because the longer it simmers, the better the results. Mitch comes home from morning skate to find him in the kitchen, stirring gently at the mixture of butter, weed, and water.

"What are you cooking?" he asks, coming up behind Auston and going up on his tiptoes to hook his chin over Auston's shoulder. He peers down into the Crockpot curiously.

"Hi, baby," Auston says. He presses a soft kiss to the side of Mitch's head, inhales the scent of the shampoo from the arena showers. "It's weed butter," he adds with a laugh, scoops up some of the melted butter and dried green leaves into a ladle for Mitch to see better.

"Oh, shit, seriously?"

"Mm," Auston says. "I haven't made it in forever. You ever had edibles?"

"No, actually," Mitch admits, but he looks interested, and Auston is sort of weirdly excited about maybe getting to share something new with him, if he'd be willing.

"I was thinking I'd make cookies. Like, obviously my mom can never know that we're using her famous recipe to make weed cookies, but."

"Obviously," Mitch echoes in solidarity. "This is cool. Can I help?"

"For sure," Auston says, and this time he's pretty sure his excitement is obvious in his voice. "There's not a lot to do until tonight. It's sort've gotta cook all day for max potency, and then we strain out all the weed bits with the cheesecloth and put the leftover liquid in the fridge so it can clarify."

"And then tomorrow it's butter?"

"Totally. And, like, it'll be *green*, too."

"Wicked," Mitch says, sort of reverantly.

"Do you, uh. Do you think you'll wanna try one? Of the cookies?" And like, Auston obviously doesn't care either way. Plenty of people find edibles intimidating, especially if they've heard stories about other people eating them and then having a bad time. But Auston's done this enough to sort of know how it goes, and he thinks Mitch will enjoy himself.

Mitch takes a moment to consider the question, his fingertips drumming against the countertop.

"It'll just be the two of us?" he asks finally.

"Of course, Mitchy. Whatever you want."

"And like. You'll tell me how much I should eat and stuff?"

"Half a cookie to start, babe, and we can go from there."

"I-- yeah. Yeah, we can-- okay."

"I think you'll like it," Auston says, because he does think so. Mitch enjoys being high when they get the chance, loves getting fucked high, too, and Auston can't wait to show him what it's like when it's a body-high instead -- every sensation amplified in the best way.

"Mm. So how was physio?"

--

They decide to eat the cookies when Mitch has two days off between home games.

Auston sets them up on the couch in his living room, stocks up on water bottles and takeout food so that they won't have to go anywhere. Mitch looks particularly comfy in a tshirt and a pair of Auston's sweats, cuffed at each ankle because of their height difference.

It's sweet. Mitch looks just... sweet. Eager and excited, as he always is when he gets to try something new with Auston that Auston has promised him will be fun.

He looks the tiniest bit nervous, maybe, too, which is pretty normal. Edibles can be an absolute trip if you have no idea what you're doing (and yeah, Auston's had a few weird experiences that he wouldn't repeat, let alone want Mitch to experience. He knows he can make this as good as possible for him.)

It's important to be somewhere you feel safe and comfortable, at least the first few times, Auston has told him. So they stick to just the two of them, cuddled together at Auston's -- where Mitch spends most of his time these days, anyway.

(That's definitely a conversation they need to have, and soon. It's been long enough now that Mitch really doesn't need to keep paying for a condo that sits empty more often than it doesn't. They're happy at Auston's, and just... Just the thought of Mitch having this safety net place, this backup plan, makes Auston's stomach squirm uncomfortably, go cold with dread.)

They end up baking only two of the cookies. Auston freezes the rest of the dough in pre-formed cookie lumps for later -- easy to throw into the toaster oven whenever they want one.

The cookies come out of the oven looking gooey and smelling fantastic. Mitch is sort of puzzled that he can't smell the weed, that they look just like normal cookies.

"I've kind of perfected the recipe," Auston tells him, feeling oddly proud. "I used to use coconut oil instead of butter, but this is way better."

"You've done this a lot, huh?" Mitch asks, and it's not judgey or anything -- Auston can tell that he's just curious.

"Honestly, I've made a lot more butter and baked a lot more cookies than I've actually eaten," Auston laughs, and then rolls his eyes as he adds, "Most of the guys from the Program weren't allowed to go anywhere near the oven. I got nominated."

"I can see why!" Mitch says, and Auston lets the smug grin spread across his face.

Auston has them eat a small meal before they get to the cookies. He remembers how not awesome it is to have edibles on an empty stomach, and Mitch eats his sandwich happily.

They have the cookies for dessert, standing barefoot in their sweats in Auston's kitchen.

"Half, right?" Mitch asks, his lower lip caught gently between his teeth.

"To start, yeah," Auston confirms, as he breaks Mitch's cookie and sets one piece aside. "We'll see how you feel in an hour. You might not need the other half."

"Okay," Mitch agrees easily. He takes his half of the cookie and looks it over, before tilting his head up to give Auston a small smile.

"Cheers?" He asks, holding the cookie out between them. Auston laughs, feeling so damn fond, and taps his whole cookie against Mitch's half.

"Cheers," he confirms.

Mitch takes a tentative little bite, his eyebrows drawn together like he's honestly expecting it to be gross, and then, "Oh," he says brightly. "That's not as bad as I thought."

"Nah," Auston says, and then he's tearing into his. "Tastes mostly just like cookies, huh?"

"I taste the weed a little bit," Mitch says, and shrugs. He finishes the rest of his piece, and adds, "But yeah. Mostly it's just cookies. Good cookies."

"I'll tell my mom you said so," Auston grins.

They end up on the couch, water and snacks in easy reach. Auston suggests a simple itinerary of video games, some Netflix binging, and maybe some music (which he knows Mitch will interpret as "making out while listening to music" because that's sort of their thing when they're high).

It takes just about an hour for the weed to start kicking in. They're wrapping up another round of Mario Tennis when Auston feels it, that tightness in his face, the tingles that start in his knees and spread slowly outward, like ripples.

He can literally feel himself relaxing in increments, body melting slowly into the couch. It's fucking awesome.

"Oh," Mitch says, around ten minutes later. "Wow, I think I-- yeah. Here we go."

Auston snorts a laugh at the look on Mitch's face, nervous and excited at the same time, like he's trying to decide how the early signs of his high are making him feel.

"Yeah?" Auston asks, interested. "You feel it, too, huh?"

"Yeah," Mitch echoes. "It's... Really, really weird. But a good weird, I think?"

It's early, yet, but they decide to set aside the video games for now. Auston thinks he'd much rather lay back and just let it ride at this point, maybe with an episode of The Office on in the background. Something they've seen before, mindless without requiring too much focus.

He switches the TV over to their Netflix and takes a few minutes to decide on the perfect episode. Before long, he's queueing up "Company Picnic" with a cursory glance over at Mitch.

Mitch, unsurprisingly, is in enthusiastic agreement.

He's pretty quiet throughout the episode, but Auston isn't too concerned by it. Mitch always goes near-silent and contemplative when he's high, and this time he's got so much more sensation to focus on than he's used to. Auston is absolutely in love with getting to see it all play out on Mitch's expressive face.

"Everything is in, like..." Mitch eventually says. He trails off, and Auston thinks he's not even aware of it, the way he's suddenly stuck inside his own head and unable to finish his thought.

Sometimes, when Mitch is really, really ripped, he thinks he's saying things out loud that he's actually only thinking, and it's fucking hilarious how he'll contribute to a conversation long after the topic has changed and everyone has moved on to something else.

"What's that, baby?" Auston prods with a lazy smile. "Everything is what?"

"It's like. Surround sound. But... In my head?" He says, so seriously, and Auston has to bite back his laugh.

"Like," Mitch continues, "Like the sound filters in through one of my ears and out the other? It's... It's really cool. And really weird."

Auston stops for a moment to ponder that, and, huh.

"Shit," he says, sort of awed by the discovery. "Yeah, shit, you're totally right."

Everything begins to sort of unravel after that.

Auston gets lost for a really long time, just *listening*. He's completely let go of the thread of the episode, focused instead on just the sounds and the way they filter in and out, just as Mitch had said.

Every glance over at Mitch reveals him to have become more and more liquid, his body oozing into the cushions. Eventually, he's slid so far down the couch that he's practically flat, his chin resting on his own chest and his feet flat on the floor, sprawled out in front of him.

It's probably not nearly as funny as Auston finds it. He dissolves into giggles that he can't seem to stop, and every time he thinks he's got it under control, another look at Mitch sets him right off again.

"What?" Mitch asks, with a dopey grin. "What's funny?"

"You-- you're--" Auston manages through his hiccups for breath, "You're gonna fall."

As soon as he's said it, Mitch is sliding right off the couch to land on his ass on the floor.

It takes a really, really long time to get either one of them to stop howling with laughter after that.

They break for snacks a little while later. Auston reheats his own Thai curry, but Mitch (predictably, and like a heathen) eats his cold, right out of the styrofoam container.

When Auston checks in with him after, asks how he's feeling, Mitch relays with interest that his limbs are, like, really heavy, and everything feels like it's thrumming with electricity and warmth.

"S'good, though," he says again, and then his face screws up into a sort of unreadable expression, like maybe he's embarrassed about what he says next. "I think I'm kind of-- um."

"Yeah?" Auston asks. He scoots even closer to Mitch on the couch, squeezes gently at Mitch's hip with the arm he's got wrapped around his waist. "Tell me."

Mitch has got this beautiful, faraway look on his face, his big eyes gone glassy from the high.

"I think I'm just-- like. Really horny?"

"Oh," Auston says in realization, because yeah, totally. Auston's been in a low, simmering state of arousal since the cookie -- is always a little turned on when they get high together.

"It's. Um. Like, I want-- I want you to fuck me but I feel like I'd-- I feel like I'm gonna shoot the second you touch me."

And, jesus. Auston hadn't realized just how worked up Mitch has gotten himself. They haven't even been touching, not like that, but...

He reaches down to snag the pillow that Mitch has been resting his elbows on, tugs it out of Mitch's lap. Sure enough, Mitch is fully hard in his sweats, a damp patch already blooming there, darkening the fabric.

"Baby," Auston says, and his voice has gone low and dark, his sex voice, without him even really meaning for it to. "You're already all wet for me, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"God," Mitch breathes, and his hips twitch up almost imperceptibly. He's all flushed and so sweet, his teeth closing around his lower lip as he looks at Auston.

"I don't know why I'm so-- fuck. I just. Even just thinking about it feels so good, like I could-- like I could come without even-- oh my God, Auston."

Auston grabs blindly for his phone. He shuts off the television and tells Google to play one of his playlists, something slow and intimate that he associates with Mitch and sex.

(Because obviously fooling around is on the menu today.

Mitch absolutely loves being touched and kissed and fucked and played with when he's high or drunk. It's something they'd negotiated a long, long time ago.

Auston had just figured they'd maybe get around to making out at some point, enjoying the slow burn of it all. But Mitch is clearly at the peak of his high, and he wants. And Auston will give Mitch anything and everything he wants, every time.)

He pulls Mitch into his lap, gets him settled there with his legs spread wide. Mitch's lip is red and wet from where he's been biting at it, and Auston smears a thumb through the saliva there.

He leans in for a filthy kiss that has Mitch moaning.

"Look at you," Auston says against Mitch's mouth, feels him shiver so hard in his arms. "Wrecked already, just from thinking about my dick in you."

"God, god," Mitch whines. "I want it so bad but I can't-- Aus, I can't--"

"It's alright, baby," Auston says, because Mitch is so close already, and obviously a little bit overwhelmed by it. "Let me make you feel good, yeah? I can fuck you later, okay? Just let me--"

And really, Auston just wants to mess Mitch up, wants to get him off right here, have him come all over the inside of Auston's sweats.

He runs a soothing hand down the length of Mitch's spine, loves the way Mitch arches into the touch like he's starving for it. He gets both hands around Mitch's waist and rocks him forward, hitches his hips against Auston's muscular thigh.

"Yeah," he croons encouragingly when Mitch gasps and repeats the motion. "Just like that, Mitchy, okay?"

And Mitch keeps going, keeps rubbing his pretty dick against Auston and making the most amazing sounds. His eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth has gone slack, and Auston needs to see him *come*.

Auston sucks at his own middle finger, gets it sloppy wet. They don't have lube in the living room, but spit is fine for a single finger -- especially with how close Mitch is to the edge already. He slips his hand down the back of Mitch's pants and gets right up between his cheeks.

Mitch *howls* at the blunt press of Auston's finger at his hole, spreads his legs wider and just opens so fucking easy around the thick slide of it inside.

Auston, for the most part, is content to just watch at this point. The way Mitch is shoving forward to rub off against Auston's leg, and then back to take his finger deeper inside means Auston doesn't really have to do much more than watch, anyway -- Mitch is going to get there all by himself.

"Oh, oh," Mitch gasps. His knuckes are white where he's gripping tight, tight to Auston's biceps.

"Fuck yeah, Marns, feels good?"

"Matty," he says, as he's swallowing hard and tilting his head back to bare his throat. "Matty, m'gonna--"

Auston dips down to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Mitch's Adam's apple, feels Mitch's feverish moan against his lips.

"Oh, fuck, Auston, fuck," he nearly wails, and then his ass is clenching tight around Auston's finger and he's rocking in uncoordinated thrusts against Auston's thigh, jerky little grinds with no proper rhythm.

The sound he makes as he stiffens all over and comes, *hard* in Auston's sweatpants, is a mind-blowingly sexy sob of relief that blazes in Auston's veins.

Auston's got an armful of a pliant, satiated Mitch that he tips over gently to slump against the arm of the couch -- so that he can get his own sweats pulled down enough to tug his own leaking cock out.

The sensations are overwhelming, and his own dry hand feels nothing short of incredible as it works over the hot skin of his erection. When he comes, it's with a muffled grunt that he buries into Mitch's shoulder, his hand catching most of his come as it pulses out of his dick, sticky and abundant.

"Jesus," he says, in wonder, after he's finally managed to catch his breath. There's still a puddle of come cooling in his palm and it's pretty fucking gross but...

He really can't manage even thinking about moving right now.

(It takes a lot of prodding and coaxing to get Mitch up and into a nice, hot shower, but they get there eventually.

The spray of the water feels so good on Auston's sensitive skin, and Mitch's moan of satisfaction makes it pretty evident that he feels the same.

Originally, Auston had planned for round two to take place in their bed, somewhere comfortable where he can take his time fingering Mitch open, maybe fool around with one of their vibrators before getting to the main event.

And well. The way Mitch looks right now, naked and gorgeous and so trusting, has Auston getting hard all over again, already.

"Fuck it," he thinks as he shoves Mitch back against the tiled wall of the shower, "We can always go for round three.")

[grimelords]

I just realised I wrote up my June playlist and forgot to post it at all, which benefits no one. July coming soon, but for now please enjoy three hours of two month old thoughts on the new Kanye, the Red Dead Redemption soundtrack and two songs about drinking beer.

Ghost Town - Kanye West: Now that the dust has settled around Kanye's month of chaos I can safely say Ye is great and Ghost Town is the best song on it, though it's not a coincidence that the best song is the one where Kanye says the least.

DLZ - TV On The Radio: I've been obsessed with this song for a long time. The combination of the absolutely hypnotising drums and very good cryptic lyrics about impending doom is exactly my shit. Also the whistling right at the very end is a perfect moment.

Hyph Mngo - Joy Orbison: Someone had a thing on twitter the other day that was like 'quote tweet this with a phrase you remember that if you told a younger person they wouldn't understand' and someone said Hyph Mngo and I felt age 100. This song really was such a game changer and that whole wave of stuff like this, Koreless and Jame Blake's EP's around then was such an incredible time to be alive. I am aging decades by the second and will not be around much longer.

The Shootist - Bill Elm & Woody Jackson: I've been thinking about game soundtracks a lot the past month or so for some reason and Red Dead really is an all timer. They did such a great job capturing the whole feeling without it just being a straight Morricone rip-off (though obviously it is mostly a Morricone ripoff).

Touch Me - Wish & Fonda Rae: This song is so fucking good to begin with but then it gets really really good in the middle part and where they just start going hogwild with the sampler on her vocals, and then again at the end when it starts sounding like a Battles song.

In The Vespers - Colin Stetson & Sarah Neufeld: Ever since I finished MGSV again I've been thinking about open-world stealth as a genre and how I'd do it, and this song is really the perfect kind of soundtrack to the game I'm thinking of. It's already got four alert levels built in, all the way from Tense to FUCk and back down to Calming Down But Still Scared.

Human After All - Daft Punk: Human After All is still a beguiling album in sound and vision after all this time. The amount of noise emananating from every single element in this song, and songs like Technologic is just so strange compared to everything they'd done before and since, but I think that's what I like about it. It sounds like it was made in 1979 when electronics were a novelty and everyone accepted that they'd be noisy as hell. Also I had an emotional moment this month while I was driving and listening to this song and reflecting on how we are all, human.. after all.. so who knows what's up with me.

Disparate Youth - Santigold: The production on this song is insane. The drums, the guitar, the bouncing piano, it just has so much momentum the whole way through and holy shit I just realised that the video I was talking about last month that referenced The Holy Mountain that I couldn't remember is L.E.S. Artistes by Santigold what an incredible two for one.

Violence - Parquet Courts: This song has the potential to be embarrassing but it's saved from itself by the specificity of the lyrics and the backing vocals that sound like a smiling swing band saying 'violence is daily life!'.

Jane Says - Jane's Addiction: The steel drum as the central melody line in this is such a strange and beautiful choice and also this song has two chords and no chorus. There are truly one million ways to make a good song.

Heatstroke - Calvin Harris feat. Young Thug, Pharrell Williams, Ariana Grande: I really can't believe I missed this song that came out like a year ago, so thank god my girlfriend told me about it. It's incredible. Everyone is operating at full capacity in this song and the structure is so good, the Pharrell/Thug pre-chorus could be a chorus on its own but then Ariana and Pharrell trade lines foe the actual chorus, amazing. Also when Thugger says 'she got every read bottom like a baboon’ the way the backup says '..baboon' slightly apprehensively cracks me up.

Maximum Black - Bohren & Der Club Of Gore: More Bohren, carrying over from last month. This is one of my favourites of theirs, mostly just for the choir sound and the all-time great sax intro at about 4:30. When you start at absolute zero, dialling it up to a 1 sounds like bomb going off.

Dust Bunnies - Kurt Vile: This is like most Kurt Vile songs in that it's sort of just about hanging out and feeling kind of funny, which is a mindset I really relate to.

Here For The Beer - The Sloppy Boys: A bunch of guys from The Birthday Boys have a band now and it's really great. Comedy music is hard but this album is the best kind where it's just dumb ass rock and roll story songs and odes to partying. The way he says 'autographed baseball' makes me laugh every time.

Beer Pressure - Municipal Waste: Anyway that song reminded me of this song, which is almost the exact same song with a slightly different mindset.

Credulous! Credulous! - BATS: There's really something to listening to a song for ten years and then having it suddenly dawn on you one day that it's about an epilleptic 16 year old in the distant past getting treppaned by a mystic and a team of scientists in the present figuring out what happened.

Please Take Your Hand Away - Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross: Everyone's (me) always talking about how good The Social Network soundtrack is but nobody's ever talking about how they did a sequel that's just as good and goes for longer than the actual film when they released the nearly 3 hour Girl With The Dragon Tattoo soundtrack a year later. What an achievement!

What Does Your Soul Look Like Part 2 - DJ Shadow: This song is really on a whole nother level. It is really a kind of magic that you can get a 15 minute song out of a two note bassline and a drum loop, but when they're this good it looks easy. The drums especially are just absolutely hypnotising.

One Of One - Kamasi Washington: Kamasi somehow outdid himself on this one my god. The groove in this is just amazing, and the way it twists and turns into something darker and darker before the sun shines through and the hook comes back is incredible. The way the theme comes back all twisted up with strings near the end. Great stuff.

My Exit, Unfair - mewithoutYou: I honestly very nearly got converted in high school just because I was listening to so much mewithoutYou, and it still informs a lot of my religious thoughts. A running theme through a lot of their songs is wrestling with and trying to accept the idea that God has a plan for you that you definitely don't understand and getting extremely upset about it and that's about where I'm at.

Stand - R.E.M.: Apparently this was the theme to a show called Get A Life and it's funny because it really does sound perfect for a 90s tv theme. It sounds like it's two and a half minutes too long. Release the 30 second TV theme version REM.

BFG Division - Mick Gordon: I was watching a guy speedrun Doom on GDQ and the music for that game is so amazing, but it sounds really funy when the whole sppedrun is just clipping through a wall and rocket jumping halfway across the level to trigger the checkpoint. Mick Gordon really nailed this soundtrack, it's a massive part of the atmosphere of the game and it's really the logical expansion of the MIDI themes of the original, it sounds like the original in HD, this is what you thought you were hearing.

Angel's Rest - Marisa Anderson: Marisa Anderson's songs are so loosely structured they often seem dreamed up on the spot, but the sounds and moods seem so carefully considered that the notes themselves aren't so important.

Looks Like I Picked The Wrong Week To Quit Oxygen - Michael Giacchino: If Michael Giacchino doesn't get an Oscar for The Incredibles II soundtrack I'm going to riot. The climax of this is so big I had to stop myself from applauding in the theatre, it's irrepressible.

AM // Radio - Earl Sweatshirt & Wiki: I was having a week where I was really feeling like the phrase "I don't like shit, I don't go outside" and so I suddenly remembered this album. This beat is so, so good. It sounds like nothing else, and it only adds to the alien flavour by giving the second half of the track to an instrumental.

World In Harmony - Adebisi Shank: Adebisi Shank are really the perfect band. They love to have fun and have a big time and they started out with a perfect first album and only got bigger and better by the time they got to the third and broke up. This song is so powerful, and my billionaire dream is to finance a new F-Zero game and get Adebisi Shank back together to do the soundtrack.

Make Luv feat. Oliver Cheatham - Room 5: I'm slowly putting together a playlist of songs that sound like Music Sounds Better With You by Stardust in order to invoke some kind of euphoric 'best night ever' and ascend to heaven but this song is the only other one I have so far.

A Love Supreme Part II: Resolution - John Coltrane Quartet: I don't feel qualified to say anything about A Love Supreme, so I don't think I'm going to. I literally don't know where to start with this. It's damn good music.

"You Got A Killer Scene There, Man..." - Queens Of The Stone Age: This song is a real vibe. This should be a whole genre but I've never really found anything else like it. It's like if The Doors were good I suppose. It's shocking that this song only goes for 5 minutes because it really feels like it could go for 20 and you wouldn't mind. I remember a few years ago I opened this in Audition and slowed it down to 75% and I really recommend it, it makes the whole thing feel as sludgy as I think it's supposed to be and makes all the breaks that much more impactful.

Never Let Me Go - Sarah Blasko: A friend sent me this and said it sounds like a Bond theme and he's absolutely right, especially towards the end where it all starts stacking up. Maybe it would need a bit more brass to be a proper Bond theme but still, I love it.

Protection - Emma Ruth Rundle: I love Emma Ruth Rundle so much and I'm so excited that she's got a new album coming out. The absolute textural thickness she can conjure up in a song like this blows me away. I don't know what it is about her voice but it sounds like the 90s somehow. Does that make sense? This feels like 90s music, like the grunge female songwriter thing went a slightly different way and I love it.​

listen here

[ikesenhell]

Footage

Bloodline, Chapter 4. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: Ayana is @jindalraekarkki’s lovely OC! Thank you so much! A slight warning: there is disturbing content near the end. It doesn’t fall neatly into a content warning; the closest is torture?  Also: blood and vomit.

She grew on him. 

Maybe it was this new and uncertain past behind him. The whole world felt like it titled and swirled out from under him, the whole of his bloodline running out of him in red rivers, brimming with questions. Sometimes he lay awake at night, wondering if he could shout his question to the heavens, and if--like Albert Camus wrote in The Myth of Sisyphus--the benign, indifferent universe would bother to hear him at all. 

But her presence calmed all that. He didn’t like the wondering. He was a man of action, and being forced into the present by her helped. 

They ate dinner together now. In the spirit of cooperation, he took turns preparing the meal and cleaning, though he couldn’t force himself to look anything but annoyed at the arrangement. 

“If you’d rather that we not do this, we don��t have to,” she offered one night, twirling some penne on her fork. “I don’t want to impose on you. You’re already doing enough.”

“I...” I like it. I like having someone to talk to. I don’t mind having you around, it makes me feel grounded. “It isn’t entirely awful.”

She stared at him a long while. At last, a smile cracked her lips, and he felt the lurch of excitement at realizing she was reading him. Never before was he so pleased at being vulnerable. “Alright then.”

Ayana kept in contact. Apparently she was doing alright; she was currently in custody of Masamune and doing well. The Princess (he’d caved and mentally dubbed her that, having forgotten her real name) laughed out loud and shared a series of texts with him. “The poor woman is so shy around men.”

“Then they really fucked up by putting her with Masa,” Ieyasu snorted. “He’s just about the least shy person in the world. No doubt he’s flirting with her left and right.”

“Apparently he’s cooking her all sorts of incredible food, though.”

A fleeting pang of jealousy flitted through him before he reminded himself of how ridiculous that was. “Yeah, well, Masa’s halfway decent at that, I guess. Has to make up for his personality somehow.”

She snickered and squeezed his shoulder. The last time anyone did that was years ago. As soon as her hand moved, he missed the touch. 

---

The next dossier wasn’t a file. It was a contact. 

“He’s got some interesting documentation he wanted us to see.” Mitsuhide slipped the contact details over Ieyasu’s desk with a snaky smirk. “I have reason to believe it has to do with you.”

“How so?” Ieyasu didn’t take it, but she did, quietly parsing its contents. 

The white haired man just smiled. “He’s an inside in the Mafia that we planted a while ago. Since it’s the same branch that seemed to take such singular interest in your family, I can only assume that you might want to follow up on this yourself.”

Ieyasu just sighed. “One problem with that: if... my ‘uncle’ is involved with them somehow, then I’ll be immediately recognized if he’s tailed. His cover would be utterly blown.”

“More to the point, then. We don’t have the agents to send out to rendezvous with him right now.”

“I’ll do it.”

Both of the men blinked, turning to face the archivist. She just stared back at them. “I’m volunteering.”

“Have you the faintest idea what for?” Ieyasu snapped, all of his frustrating bubbling to the surface. “You don’t. You don’t know a damn thing about handling these kinds of things. You would get killed.”

Maybe she knew him too well. She held fast in the face of his ire, recognizing it for what it was. “I understand that you don’t like this, but I’m an unknown in this situation right now. I’m just some librarian in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’m not on the radar. Insofar as anyone is concerned, I’m dead. You’d get identified, but I wouldn’t.”

“Too true.” And Mitsuhide snickered, leaning into the wall. “The little Princess has a point there.”

He couldn’t let it go. “You saw their faces when they shoved you into the copy room. How are you so sure they won’t be there?”

“The odds would be pretty wild for that.”

Silence fell in the room. She looked so certain--and he had to know--but he couldn’t bring himself to say yes. 

“I take it that’s consent,” she finally noted. “Or as close to it as we’ll get. Mr. Akechi? Sign me up.”

---

She wore an impeccable pink blazer with a matching pencil skirt and floral pumps--the very picture of a professional archivist in the Nation’s Capital. He watched as she twirled her fake ID around a lanyard on her hip, adjusting her purse. They were scrunched tight together in a one-person bathroom that served as their undercover operations point. To provide her with a proper cover, they’d had her doing all sorts of errands around the city without any equipment.

“Safety’s on,” he muttered, slipping the Glock 43 inside the jacket’s hidden holster. “You know how to fire one of these things, right?”

Her nervous smile was almost enough to change his mind. “If it comes down to that. I think.”

“You can’t think. And you won’t be smiling afterwards if you have to.”

Apparently she had no response to that. She flipped on the bud in her ear and smoothed down her outfit. “We’re live?”

Not the right terminology, but he just nodded and gave a thumbs up. Fixing him with a last, shaky smile, she stepped out of the bathroom.

Ieyasu locked it again and waited five minutes, listening to the staccato rhythm of her breath. Relax, he wanted to tell her, but that was stupid to say, given the circumstances. Instead he busied himself patching in their spare team for backup. Satisfied with the distance between them, he finally slipped out of the door. 

The pattern of the world around him clashed with the sounds in his ear, but he did his best to ignore that. On the other line, he could hear the faintest murmur of the backup team in the vicinity. It wasn’t comforting enough to still his runaway heart. 

Finally he settled into position near the glass doors. He feigned an unlaced shoe and knelt, fumbling with the ties and subtly watching her bright pink form in the front.

“...you the Princess?”

Ieyasu cringed at their codename for her, but that sounded like the contact. Without meaning to he held his breath. 

“Acer?” She responded, adding a sweet, “Are you sure you didn’t want to go with Toshiba or something?” The other man laughed, but the sound was strained and thin.

“Yeah. Nice suit.”

Drop the package, Ieyasu thought. Drop the package. This isn’t protocol. Usually the contacts knew to just leave it and go. The longer he spent, the more danger everyone involved was in--and yet--

Unease prickled the back of his neck. He straightened the shoe finally and stood, heading towards her at a clip, already a hand on his earpiece. “Get the folder. Backup please. I think it’s going wrong.”

Her shoulders squared. “Thank you for the compliment. Can I have it, please?”

The man nodded and reached into his jacket, drawing out the edge of a manila envelope and handing it over. She turned down her head to accept the package, and as she did, Ieyasu watched the man wrap his hands around the cool chrome grip of a weapon--

BANG. 

Onlookers screamed and scattered. The Princess and the contact both dropped; Ieyasu sprinted, drawing his weapon in one. “CONTACT! WE HAVE CONTACT!”

“On it,” the voice on the other end answered.

Ieyasu wrenched her off the ground (she had the glock clutched in her hand, arms trembling) and threw her behind him in time for a man on a bench to drop his paper and draw his own weapon. Barely was he up before--CRACK!--he lurched backward, blood spattering over the marble building behind him.

“Nice shot, Sarutobi,” someone muttered.

“Thank you, Mr. Uesugi.” The sniper answered. 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! More shots popped around them. Ieyasu practically ripped her off the ground and fled to the cover of the building, kicking open the door. A metal detector went wild. “EVERYONE! GET DOWN!”

Barely were they behind a wall before the telltale shatter of glass crashed into the library after them. Patrons shrieked and ran. The scream of sirens in the distance let him know backup was coming, but in the meantime, there were priorities. A pursuer raced around the corner after them, and without hesitation, Ieyasu shot him through the chest. Outside, more bullets ricocheted between historic monuments. 

“Got another.” Kenshin’s chill voice was always too calm for Ieyasu’s taste. The man was a monster. “We’re almost clear out here.”

“Site is secure from my angle.” Sarutobi followed up. “No injuries on our part.”

Ieyasu didn’t need another second. Wrapping his arms firmly under the Princess’, he half-dragged her to the bathroom again, locking the door behind them. She bent double over the sink and vomited. 

“Oh my god,” she gasped, gagging again. Ieyasu tugged her jacket from her shoulders--the pink was dashed with blood, sprayed up over her throat and mouth... and there wasn’t a bullet hole. He turned it each which way, then spiraled her around to face him, patting her down. No holes. She’d not been shot. Trembling, she grasped his arms tight. “I shot him.”

“Good.” He couldn’t think of what else to say aside from that--but then her eyes watered and waved. Come on. Say something. Anything. She’s terrified. 

But no words came. She heaved again, then cupped her blood-soaked hands over her eyes, tears rolling over her knuckles. “I think I killed him.”

Nothing he said would fix that. Ieyasu set her ruined blazer on the counter, the manila envelope forgotten beside it for now, and just held her until her tears were spent. 

---

Contained in the envelope was a single labeled CD. They ran every test they could think of on it before clearing it for viewing. 

“I thought it might be best to let you have your way with its contents.” Mitsuhide handed it over, the unspoken favor lingering in his tone. Ieyasu took it without commentary. “The Princess fine?”

“As fine as she can be after that.” He snapped harder than he meant to. “Thanks.”

She was waiting in the office when he entered. He almost thought to ask her to leave--but after all she’d gone through, he figured she deserved to at least see what she’d nearly died for. Quietly, he loaded the disc into the drive. 

A folder loaded. They perused its contents a bit at a time, sorting and cataloging them with precision. Usually he didn’t go for this kind of work, but with an actual, bona fide archivist with him, it was so much easier. 

And then they got to the video: “Incentive”.

When he played it, they almost thought it was a dud. Nothing but grainy blackness swirled before them. He almost closed it before the woman’s sobs echoed through the speaker. 

“What was that?” The Princess asked, horrified. 

Ieyasu didn’t answer. All of his hair stood on end as the woman’s voice cut through the silence. A green mass wavered as whoever it was drew nearer to the camera, and then--

“Oh my God,” he whispered. 

His mother’s hair was matted and dirty, caked with what he wished he didn’t recognize as blood. Her eyes were gaunt and hollow, skin sagging on her emaciated frame. He couldn’t see much else of her, but it looked like her wrists were chained behind her. 

“Please,” she sobbed into the camera. “Please. Do whatever you want to me--do anything you like--but please don’t hurt my son. Please, please, please don’t hurt my son--”

The video ended there. Ieyasu rewound it and stopped the tape on her face, the face he hadn’t seen in decades, a face he missed so bad it hurt like knives in his chest--and wished he’d never seen her again at all. 

“Ieyasu?” The Princess murmured, curling her hand around his. 

“I--” His voice failed him. God, he hated being weak. He despised being fragile. But that was his mother in that video, and he loved her, and he missed her, and he’d never felt such horror and shame and panic and hate in his life, and--

Ieyasu dipped his head against the desk and sobbed. As the Princess wrapped her arms around his shoulder, he rocked against her and let himself be weak. 

[icharchivist]

kay now i’m just huh bc of that post i reblogged so i’ll just add my two cents on d/a di/scourses and why i want nowhere near in it and feel free to ignore and even more to unfollow if it’s somewhat bad or anything but like,

(also please d/o/n’t re/b/log)

d/a di/scourse ultimately really fucks me up because 1) there’s a lot of it, especially in jokes that strench from far far away, I end up checking every blogs i reblog from bc i don’t want that near me 2) All side tends to have characters they like and dislike and be noisy about it and it’s very hard when down to it you just really love all the characters even when you don’t agree with them bc they’re fictional and i’m interested in the emotional reaction i get from them in game

but on a personal level it also fucks me up bc my mental health had been going bad and stuff are out of my controle, until i discovered D/A and the thing that had really, really helped me recover is that playing D/A asks me to use my skills i’ve learnt mostly to deal with my issues in a way i don’t find disagreeable (most precisely: how to weight what someone is telling you in order to not have it backfire at you) and stimulates my curiosity, passion and creativity in a way i hadn’t felt in forever. It makes me want to connect the dots, it makes me want to be involved, it makes me want to draw, to write again. (I started writting things again after 5 years and it’s so silly how it’s helping me out). Hell I started modding. I did an internship in a video game school on which I was actually pretty good and passionated bc just that had me make more research and understands more easily, so i started handling the logicials quickly for the timespawn and had a lot of cultural and technical knowledge backup just from swooping around trying to learn fun facts (and i would have got into this school easily bc i had a very good file but i lacked the money and my parents fucked it up, so i’m still extremely frustrated at that because I actually had really great chances to be taken in this school) It stimulates me in a way where I can healthily forget for two minutes that my world is crumbling, that for a moment it had me consider different future path, (see again up there), if there’s a path to recovery to be had it started with it.

I’ve known for years this fa/ndom was deemed toxic and I knew of the controversial characters by name before i started the game so i sillily paid more attention to them bc “how bad can they fuck up” only to realize then “oh no i love them” bc i paid attention to them. And i’m in circles where I see more hates than others and sometimes just hear of some hate by hearsay.

I’ve wanted to keep healthy distance as much as possible but once i got in d/a i noticed i already had d/iscourse on my dash from blogs i followed from others things and it was. Huh.

And I was thinking about not letting it get to me, or regularly take breaks, i blocked the d/iscourse tags, then the main tag to avoid it (doesn’t stop some posts to slide through though so that’s not helping), i don’t feel comfortable talking about it, and hey at least i owe to that that i’m less onto this website and i’m grateful at least for that

And it’s unhealthy to be this affected by f/andom stuff, i know that, god do i know that, but i’ve been in fandom for what, 11 years now, I’ve seen some fan wars, i’ve seen and participated in w/anks, but the whole holier-than-thou attitude in really insidious way is damaging, and i can’t recall a time i was this uncomfortable being part of something. (and i was in s/uperw/hol/ock at the fandom’s heigh and in the n/aruto’s fa.ndom when it ended for christ’s sake).

And idk how much is just current fa/ndom bc i know there’s far worse on this damn website, or really this game but this is. very damaging.

Anyway point is that my biggest problem is that i’ve seen some “Hot takes” that had been more damaging for my mental health bc i didn’t even know i could expect them (that’s a fun part of depression no one talks to you about, next i’m gonna tell you again that seeing one more posts about “how siblings are if you don’t see it like that you don’t have a real sibling” and variation sent me in some very bad mental spirals and i’m that close to unfollow anyone that posts those, so hey, that’s fun)

and some of them were 1) “Green!Ha/wke is a manipulator and it is far less sincere than Red or Purple” which really, really fucked me up not because I fancy Green this much but because saying being diplomatical in times stuff are going down is manipulative is super damaging and as someone who is always calculating how to be true to myself while also not triggering a fight around short tempered people, calling it “manipulation” had drove me to major anxiety thinking i was no better than my family, 2) the whole discourse about C/ullen which is the w o rs t bc i get where people come from when they dislike him and they have cause but i see a lot of my reactions to my own trauma and self-destructiong numbing addiction (i mean my self h//arm before anyone think anything) in his storyline in an unflattering way, and it’s something that really drove me to him in a way no other characters did (and i mean it especially bc, in term of experience? I relate to L/eliana more. But in term of reaction on a personal level on oneself? I couldn’t even start without getting uncomfortably personal about how dear C/ullen’s writting is to me. C/ullen’s reaction to trauma is extremely personal on the way also how he takes it on himself and it’s so, so important to me). and this one i kinda expected bc i love others characters that can follow this sort of patern and i know they have tons of w/anks about it but boy it is far less vicious than i’ve seen there (and i know others chara have tons of others d/iscourses but like i said i happen to be following people who will bring this one much more than any others)

Or maybe i’m just far more sensitive than i used to be, but therefore it triggers my fight or flight stuff and since i refuse to involve myself into fight it makes “flight and think about it for hours until it makes you feel terrible for liking it in the first place” so that’s fun.

And I know. I know it’s unhealthy to be this affected on f/andom stuff, and i’m not going to change anyone’s mind, nor do i want to. 

Bc in the end those games requires a lot of personal involvement and therefore our sensitivities to shine through, and i refuse to let my view affect others when the emotional journey is far, far more interesting when you take it with your own heart, even if it means i must fundamentally disagree with all of the experience others may feel,

But ye. I know. And i’m trying to work on that, it’s been a year i’m trying to work on that, and as i said earlier, i’m taking breaks from this website every once in a while lately, which is far more healthy anyway, and i think i’ll carry on doing that.

And I still will not posts d/iscoursy stuff of saying “this interpretation of the character is wrong here how you should interpret it” even if i agree bc i’m too tired for it, and anyway i don’t even want to learn what’s the fa/ndom’s opinions on the characters are at this point, i couldn’t care less, I care about how i feel for them and I don’t even want to hear how people discuss it.

(and tbh so i feel for the lore in general too bc i really like the lore of the game, sue me, and as much as i love to dig for details i’m too tired for opinions)

but that last post is the first time i see a post specifically written on the very topic that makes me anxious about C/ullen stuff, i didn’t feel like letting it past, i want to keep it on my blog.

Anyway also if you’ve stuck this far, i’m also going to be far more ready to unfollow stuff that really makes me spiral down now, the last few breaks i took from this website made me feel like i don’t want to deal with it anymore. I’m still anxious about what i post and i doubt i’ll still share a lot about it, bc at this point i don’t even feel like sharing this much either so there’s that, 

but therefore if you’ve stuck there you’re also welcomed to unfollow for whatever reason you feel like and especially if you don’t want to deal with my bullshit, bc god knows i don’t want to be dealing with it either. Don’t let things you can controle upset you, that’s not worth it.

Anyway, icha’s out, didn’t want to talk much about personal stuff more but here i am! and i’m taking my leave bye