#i feel like i gotta give some context for him being in engineering

[its-always-sunny-in-city17]

more beatle trek

[guestaccount8499]

Is Caine abusing abstraction for the game?

Gotta love the early stages of theorycrafting, where we're going off so little it's very unlikely any of it will be true. Also, thanks for @digestive for the link below.

So TADC is built around a divide between the internal threats of the simulation (Caine and not being able to leave) and the things a little more in the background that don't seem to be directly a part of it (abstraction, whatever went wrong outside). The thing is though, whenever I think about the events of the pilot it seems like in retrospect Caine is more aware of it all than he lets on.

So from the top: The point of Caine's games seems to be to prevent abstraction, which judging from what it does to them and the name is probably their minds dissociating from their relative reality or the ability to interact with it proparly. It's geared to keep them engaged and give them a direction, but it's not very good at it. Some things also indicate it's designed to generate stories for an unknown observer given it has things like a theme song and Jax talks to the camera.

But the scenarios not directly related to the adventures kind of seem like their own, differet kind of adventure. That's not to say he's causing abstraction and everything, but I feel he knows how to use it to his advantage and make adventures. First I wanna talk about the exit door. It seems like its own thing going on outside the context of Caine's games and control, but according to him at the end it was (albeit unfinished).

He makes it out like he just didn't understand what the humans meant by wanting to "escape" and put a fake escape in the game which broke, but that doesn't completely make sese. While the other side is out of his control there's no reason to think its location would be, yet it still repeatedly appears to Pomni which he doesn't comment on. Why would he do that if he didn't mean to make it seem like something beyond the simulation?

It also doesn't really fit the nature of the fun, carefree world that the circus usually puts on. It's relatively realistic looking, taunts people, doesn't really behave like a tangible object, etc. Everything about it seems specially engineered to feel like it's "outside" in a sense. Who's to say he doesn't do this with other plot-points?

Also note the ending of the Gloink adventure where they end up under the circus. The artsyle of the cave and the escalators is relatively relastic and not the usual bright happy design of everything else. Most notably, naturally, is the Gloink Queen who I wouldn't really call scary but definately looks and sounds notably more unsettling than anything above ground.

Which brings us to the abstracted monsters themselves. They look like this alien, disturbing thing that Caine would never let be part of his design...except I really don't think they're much worse than the queen. Their design is scarier but still not really like, something you wouldn't want kids to see. I don't think he'd really be concerned with them visually or just on the virture of them being monsters.

While the full effects of them running around and damaging characters isn't entirely clear, they also don't really seem to pose much of a threat to the whole thing. They're painful but Caine seems able to handle them and insantly undoes their damage. There's still somewhat of an "outside" vibe to them but I don't feel Caine sees them as a threat or something too wary of to not use.

Much like the exit door, abstracted characters provide an adventure for people that aren't interested in adventures Caine is openly causing. Hell, it worked on you didn't it? It was entertaining to watch Pomni and Raggatha fight the creature, when just watching them all gather the Gloinks wouldn't be. What we're seeing might very well be the viewpoint for the unknown audience it seems to cater too.

The biggest thing making me suspect abstraction just plays into his plan to keep characters engaged and people watching, though, is that Caine doesn't seem remotely concered with it after it happens. Unless he's much less aware of what's going on in the circus than he suggests (which isn't entirely unfounded) he only takes note of anything being wrong when Pomni gets into the void.

He acts like Kaufmo getting abstracted is a big deal in a gag but in the scene he seems to treat it like a gag rather than something that actually concerns him. He makes a face and sticks his tongue out, almost more sacastic than actually surprised. Is it a joke to him as much as it is to us? Like I mentioned earlier, he doesn't seem to really have any reason to be concerned with it besides the pain they cause.

And he isn't concerned with pain, by the way. He probably can't empathize with it since there doesn't seem to be a way for him to get hurt, presumebly not even being designed with it. Goose I believe even said something to the effect of him "treating the humans like voodoo dolls", and he clearly doesn't care about things like Zooble strangling Jax.

TL;DR: Caine is probably using abstracted characters as adventures, the only thing that really seems to worry him so far is characters getting into the void.

[wench-and-jezebel]

Dark Angel Reaction: Out

Jezebel (@typicalopposite) reacts [with occasional asides by Wench (@scripted-downfall)], as excerpts of a transcript from a video call

Tony looks like Logan in season 1 only, and then age hits and his whole look changes.  Like, he’s still handsome, but he’s so different

Oop, now Logan’s getting moody

KENDRA.  [KENDRA!]  Speak of the devil (aff)!

So, like, is this episode, like, them but flopped?  Is this just, “okay, I got an idea for this episode: let’s have Max act like Logan and Logan act like Max?:  [I think I might have an idea for why this is happening…] ‘Cause he’s got some of her blood?  [YES]. She’s got less of her blood, so she’s less bitchy; he’s got more of her blood, and he’s more bitchy?  [EXACTLY]

This scene makes me think of the whole Ten-Donna “Oi, watch it Space Man” “Oi, watch it, Earth Girl” thing [Yes!!  And that’s remarkably pertinent given the context of the Doctor Who scenes, actually, though you haven't seen them, so I can't say why]

Buddy, you weren’t even close to catching sight of her on time.  I swear, these break-ins aren’t due to her skill; the security just… sucks.

[This went so badly, and for why?  Because she wanted to chew gum and blow the bubble until it popped]

She gonna jump on the plane?

She gonna jump on the plane.

I feel like, genetically engineered or not, this is a bad idea

Well, at least she got off before it took off

[Why tf are they breaking up without having been together in the first place?]

“Well, at least I care about other people.”  That’s true

[“I’m swearing off the whole gender” Come on, Max, go check out OC then???  I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige]

Well, this is a parallel with the other one

Max has a lot to do with it, actually

Well, now, that is… That is abuse on a disabled person, sir.  He won’t be able to feel it, but it is

Which is another funny thing; if he can’t feel his legs, why are they hurting?

[Normal looks so adorably enthusiastic]  Right?

Well, aww

[NORMAL WENT TO HARVARD??? AND GOT A phD???]  Show-off

Well, aww x2

[IS HE WEARING EYELINER] Is he???  I THINK HE IS (picture to be included)

Normal’s too excited by this, and the filming is too weird.  This isn’t gonna work out; watch her not have been afab

Is he calling her Mack?

[Logan’s beard is getting haggard]

Not a “thug”

Original Cindy’s like, say what?

[Yeah, Max doesn’t care.  at.  all.]

MEN

[I don’t think anyone in this show actually knows how to ride a bike.  And I’m not sure if it’s intentional; Alec has a bike incident that was clearly played-for-laughs, but idk for sure about the others]

That poor guy; just give it to them!

Poor Sketchy’s just like, please just get me out of here!

I wonder who Logan thinks that is  [Not Max, of course, because he doesn’t care.  At.  All.]

Oh, no, cop’s gonna get killed.  Or trainer’s gonna get killed.  This is like a “someone’s gonna get killed” scene, I know it

I thought that was Lintlicker [Me too!]

Y’all really gonna pull the crippled kid out of his wheelchair?  That’s dirty

Oh, no, guess we gotta call Max; your boyfriend’s been kidnapped

They’re taking children  [Now, who’s gonna be obsessed!?]

Is this supposed to be sex trafficking or something?  [I guess so… I confess I didn’t quite follow the second flashback because I was typing our convo]

He’s been Logan-napped!  Again!  

– – –

Midpoint reaction: 

Jezebel: This one’s actually had stuff happen!  But it’s frustrating, because I hate it when shows do this.  Last episode had them reveal their feelings for each other and have this really sweet moment, and then I was wondering that was gonna be the whole episode: her being sweet and him being moody.  But then that changed, real quick.  It’s like Mickey and Ian in Shameless.  Mickey was like Cas in that he kept coming back because they kept trying to write him off and the fans didn’t like it.  They tried to get rid of him permanently by putting him in prison; they get together and are happy, but then Ian’s sister calls the cops.  And then the fans throw a fit and bring him back, but only so that he runs to Mexico.  They get married eventually, and it’s one of my few ships that are endgame, but they had this will-they-won’t-they thing in a good way, but not a bitchy way.  Whereas Dark Angel is doing this whole let’s erase last episode and go back to the first episode thing.  Adding tension like they think it keeps it good.  “They’re almost together but they’re not together but maybe they’ll get together”, ish.  They went 50 steps forward last episode, but now it’s too far, so they have to walk it back from the blood dream.  But… Yeah, I figured something was going to happen to force them together, so I should’ve called that he’d get kidnapped.

Wench: At least no one died! Yet!

Jezebel: And I love how she was all “don’t call me, I won’t call you,” right up until the kids get taken and he gets kidnapped, and then she’s all, I’ll be right there.  Lydecker doesn’t seem to be this one. Seems to just be a Logan and Normal episode and SPEAKING OF.

Wench: This was indeed inevitable.

Jezebel: Poor Normal.  However this shakes out, just… poor Normal.  I hope he’ll be okay with it, though I confess that I don’t know for sure whether he will be.  I guess we’ll find out.

Wench: I’m rewatching this time knowing what was gonna happen, and I was picking up on how… surreal?  The filming was?  Like, it was just… handled differently.  And, obviously, I know how it shakes out, so I won’t say more.  Ready?

Jezebel: Ready!

— — — 

“We’re gonna beat you up really good so your girlfriend will be upset when she gets here.”  [Not that she cares.]

[I feel like I know this guy.] He favors Rhys. [He does!]

Just say it’s you!!!  “I’ll tell you, but I’m gonna wait a bit first; go ahead and torture him ‘til then.”

Well, shit.  [Poor Normal.]  Time to become Normal-a

[Not that she (Max) cares, of course]

Man, they paid Apple a lot of money 

He needs to be like, “sir, I can’t say anything if you keep slapping me”

That was racist.  That was… really racist.

Couldn’t you just tell that Logan is Eyes Only from him talking?  [Like, you recognized him within two seconds in the pilot]

He looked so confused; like, I don’t understand

“Shut these guys up”  One guy hasn’t been speaking, what do you mean?

How’d she figure this techie stuff?  If she’s this good, why does she need Logan?  [I DON’T KNOW]

Techie guy looked so happy: “I got an address!  I did it, boss!”

She goes, “I’ve just been pushing buttons and it’s been working, idk?!” 

Logan looks like, I’m as pissed off as you.

I thought that was Zach at first [It really does look like him!]. I was like, he’s back!  He’s coming to rescue his boyfriend too, I guess

She reacted very well to having a gun in her face

See, I could never be a detective or a profiler because I’d never notice that kinda thing

[She keeps Tarzan-swinging every episode???  And WHY ARE THEY ALL JUST STANDING AROUND?]  Such a man thing to do.  “Oh, she’s just a girl, she’ll never beat u- oh, wait, she’s beating us; we were wrong!”

Well, damn

[Maybe you’ll get your “she rides a plane up into the atmosphere” after all]

You know what?  Respect.  Because usually, she’d give a whole “any last words” big speech and give him time to not fall out of the plane, but this time she just kicked him out of the plane!

That one was just like, can I go home now?

Well, damn [Nooooo]  Poor Normalllll

But, you know what, OC is cool and Normal might be an ass but I feel like she’d not do that to him. [Oof, so much for that… she’s not doing it, but not because she’s got moral issues for Normal’s sake, simply because she can’t accept Louise as anything but Louis… which is kinda saying she’s less accepting than Normal but anyway]

[Whoa, actual communication????]  Next episode’s gonna be crazy then!

That interaction was so cute  [I KNOW]

Awwww [PROGRESS]

[Not that she cares, though]

– – – 

Jezebel: I do feel like I can give Normal a fair character bingo now, for Normal Anon.  And, to address the Normal storyline first, since that was smaller/more background, is so sad!  He was so accepting, and you don’t find people who can get a bombshell like that dropped on them and is gonna say “oh, that’s okay, we’ll make it work”, and then she was just like “nah, I want a woman.”  It’s like, you couldn’t figure it out before this date?

Wench: We also get to see Normal’s… nobility, for lack of a better word?  Like, he has a sense of right and wrong.  And he strongly believes in those halves.  He doesn’t always have the information to make that decision well — and he makes some very bad decisions predicated on bad information, especially in season 2 — but he still has this code of honor he abides by, and he definitely puts his money where his mouth is.  (e.g. as I told you, he buys into the fearmongering/sensationalism/propaganda Manticore spreads in s2 and thinks the transgenics are bad and veryyyy dangerous… and yet, when it looks like Alec has been taken hostage by some, he nonetheless risks himself to try and help.  It goes badly because, obviously, the transgenics aren’t bad, but he still tries to do what he thinks is right, regardless of his personal wellbeing.)  And, of course, the example in this episode is bringing Louise’s number to OC after she dumped him, even though it sucks that she put him in the position of having to pass it to Cindy.

Jezebel: True!  And, like, even once she broke up with him, he could have lashed out, but he didn’t.

Wench: Right.

Jezebel: And, on to Max and Logan…

Wench: The opposite end of the relationship spectrum: no longer could-have-been-healthy-but-isn’t-happening and now not-that-healthy-usually-but-is-kinda-happening

Jezebel: Right!  She comes running whenever he’s in danger, but why can’t she be there for him normally???  Though the beginning was kinda Logan’s fault, because he was all moody, to be fair.  But, again, he started communicating at the end.

Wench: This is true.  And that is, in itself, weird.  Like, 90% of the couples we’ve  talked about have not been communicative at all.  Destiel, definitely not.  Deckerstar, not really.  I guess Our Flag Means Death is the closest we come?  With the bathtub scene for Gentlebeard?

Jezebel: Oh, by the way, just to say this before I forget; it’s not directly connected to the reaction, so I’ll keep it short, but I saw this idea that their problems like in the fact that Ed talks about his feelings, and is like, this is what I feel and what I need and what’s bothering me, while Stede doesn’t talk… He doesn’t say, “Hey, Jack is bothering me the way everyone has acted all my life, and it’s hurting me”; he just says “Jack’s awful and you’re acting like him.”

Wench: Oh, that does make sense!

Jezebel: Yeah 😂 Anyway, back to Max and Logan… That last interaction was really good/cute.

Wench: Yeah, I do agree!  You know I don’t like Max much, or their relationship, but this is in good territory for once.  They had really good… I don’t wanna say chemistry, actually, given the events of season 2, but it was a good exchange.  Their banter is actually cute and wholesome instead of problematic.  s2 is different, of course, but this was a good two-line exchange.

Jezebel: How many episodes to Ben now?

Wench: “Pollo Loco” is in about… 8 eps, at this point.

Jezebel: Okay

Wench: I honestly can’t tell if you’re looking forward to it or dreading it alksdjf

Jezebel: Yes?  😂  I’m more than ready to see Ackles, but he dies.  And I’ve already seen that happen once, so I’m not really sure I’m ready to see it happen again.

Wench: For what it’s worth… I’ve said this before, I think, but at least it’s quick.  He gets his neck snapped, so it’s not prolonged at all.  The tragedy is in what he says beforehand.  He and Alec are both very Dean-coded — though, again, they’re clearly very different characters — but you know how tragic that kind of character can be.  And then he dies.  But the death itself really isn’t that bad.

Jezebel: Mmmhmmm.  We’ll see.

Wench: Aye, that we will :)  But we’ve got eight episodes to go, so… ‘til the next one!

[sems-diarie]

sem baby you're turning me into an izu simp...

i just wanna know how he'd coddle and coo at his angel when they're being needy for his attention 🥺

hhhhh izu my love my darling my knight in shining armor- no porn but suggestive thoughts r present.

fem!reader — i promise to be more inclusive with descriptions n nicknames but i just needed to be self indulgent tonight askhklnbj

“Izu.”

The way you say his name sounds different from the way you usually say it. Well, then again, maybe not.

It’s just a tad mean, curving on the edge of frustrated. Izuku knows without having to look at you that your eyebrows are pinched with contempt written all across your face. Contempt for him, and his busy schedule. But it really isn’t his fault that his major requires summer classes to keep up and graduate on time. Don’t be upset with him—bear your fangs at the academic director of the mechanical engineering department!

“Angel,” he stresses. Turns to you with a mop of wild green hair bouncing atop his head, and looking like he’s just about ready to yank it all from his scalp. You’ve said his name in fifty different tones over the last twelve minutes. And as much as Izu loves hearing you say his name—in every context—it seems that you’re making it your life’s mission to tear him away from this time sensitive class assignment with your needy little kitty claws.

“C’mon,” he whines, spinning around in his work chair. He reaches across, leaning towards where you sit behind his desk, planted like an offering on his bed. He takes your hands into his. Thick, veiny palms hold softer ones. He almost shivers as fingers smaller than his, adorned with freshly painted acrylics sharp enough to poke someone’s eye out, dance across his skin.

“I gotta focus,” Izuku presses, still looking and sounding so patient and sweet. “You’re killin’ me, baby.”

You frown, gently scratching your nails over the veins in his forearms, exposed all for your viewing pleasure with the short sleeved t-shirt Izu’s chosen to save him from summer heat.

“But I miss you,” you press back, all breathless and achy, running your hands over his jaw and his neck. And if he looks hard enough, he swears he can pick out hearts in your pupils.

You keep going, sounding every bit the brat that Izuku and his friends know you out to be. “Can’t you just do this later? Don’t you wanna spend time with me? I even put on the pair of panties you like s’much, y’know.”

Yes, Izuku does know. Your skirt isn’t all that effective at concealing. Just a few flickered gazes your way—your legs are just. Fucking perfect—had burned his cheeks through a searing red from the view you so graciously give him.

The boy stares at you, freckled cheeks looking full and pretty as he contemplates your pink-hued demands. He can’t afford to miss this deadline—the project is worth half of his grade for this six-week class. He can’t just melt in your hands whenever you squeeze his bicep and slyly slide your knees apart to make a suggestive amount of room between them. No matter how pretty your thighs are. Or how soft your tummy looks. Or… how good it feels to hear you beg for him like this.

“We gotta make some compromises.” Izuku finally announces. Your back straightens.

“Sit here,” he gestures to his single-room dorm bed, still holding your hands, “and be a good girl f’r me, okay? Keep your hands t’yourself and just—give me an hour to wrap this stuff up.”

Then, warm, scarred hands come up to cup your cheeks. There’s a gentle firmness in Izuku’s tone, the kind that doesn’t hurt to swallow. The kind you’ve always adored him for.

There’s even a gentlemanly finesse in the way he holds your cheeks in his hands to hold eye contact with you for every syllable of every word.

Izuku eggs you on, smoothing his thumb along the supple curve of your jaw. “You can be sweet for me, yeah? Be my good girl?”

Oh, wow, you think. Wedding bells are ringing in the back of your mind.

Looking your boyfriend in the eyes, you nod affirmatively—even in spite of the way your knees clench together.

You fold so easily, nodding along with the thought of bein’ Izuku’s sweet little thing. Absolutely hypnotized.

Sprung, if you will.

“Okay,” you concede. Then narrow your eyes at him through long, thick lashes. “I’ll wait, but hurry up.”

And before you can even fix your lips to pout at him, Izuku presses the sweetest little victory kiss to your glossed lips.

With that settled, Izuku mumbles, almost distractedly as he spins back around to face his laptop once again. “Gonna sit you on m’face, pretty girl… Just sit tight.”

You’re helpless to the way your entire body warms from the inside out as you fall back into Izu’s pillows.

[holdmecloser-gandydancer]

1 (“Why…why did you just take off your shirt?") with Magnus and whoever :O??? thank u <3 -ise

from this prompt list! Still accepting!

Barry tosses the toolbox to the ground with a little more force than entirely necessary. He casts a glance up at the darkening sky and shakes his head. At least it’s just a normal storm. He can handle a normal storm.

Fat raindrops slowly start to pelt the deck of the ship, making the metal ping with every impact. He glares at the dented panel door on Davenport’s steering column. Slight correction: he can handle a normal storm when he isn’t trying to fix the steering drag for a five-ton spacecraft. He throws on the embarrassingly wide-brimmed hat Lup stole from Taako for him to use. (“Come on, Bear, you don’t wanna get rain in your eyes.” “Also don’t want to wear this.” “But you’ll look so cute!”). Barry’s not proud to admit that that was enough to convince him. And okay, it is a good idea, he realizes in this minute. After rifling through the toolbox for a moment, Barry retrieves some screwdrivers and gets to work.

-

Barry groans in frustration at the wiring in front of him. He’s been working at the steering column for the better part of two hours and he’s still no closer to stopping the drift. Technically speaking, it’s nothing that’s going to cause a catastrophe for the team. Not yet, anyway. But Barry’s of the attitude that it’s best to fix problems as they arise. When the problems have solutions, that is. He’s convinced that the Starblaster is simply going to pull to the left until the end of time. But give him some credit, he’s a scientist, not an engineer. Strictly speaking, he’s not qualified for this.

“Barry?”

He snaps his head up and finds himself face to face with Magnus. “Uh, hey.”

“Why’re you wearing Taako’s hat?” Magnus raises an eyebrow and Barry immediately becomes self-conscious; he’s certain he looks ridiculous in this moment.

“You know, I think the context I’d have to give would make the answer not even worth hearing, at this point,” It’s not raining anymore, he realizes. He sets Taako’s hat beside the toolbox.

Magnus nods. He knows sometimes it’s best to just take Barry’s word on things like this. He recalls a few cycles ago when Barry went on an hour-long sidebar to explain that the dryer was on the fritz. “So. Whatcha doing?”

“Trying to fix the steering column? See, the Institute didn’t exactly build this thing for finesse flight. A-and that would have been fine for a two-month science mission. But it’s less good when Davenport’s gotta keep doing the fancy flying to keep us from being consumed by an evil dark cloud every year or so. It’s not too bad now but there is a concern that this could be a compounding issue? Trouble is that I just can’t seem to get it to work right,” Barry gives the exterior of the steering column a half-hearted kick.

Magnus crouches down next to the exposed wiring and squints. “What’ve you tried so far?”

“Uh, I cleaned off the connections, there was some corrosion to deal with. They all work, they’re just not working the right way.” Barry regards Magnus with some confusion. Nothing against the guy, but he hardly seems the type to understand how to fix the single most impressive piece of engineering Barry’s ever seen.

“Mmhmm. Well, it’s probably an issue with some of the ball joints up in there, maybe even the steering linkage itself.” Magnus says, pushing some wires to the side and peering inside the column. After a moment, he stands and motions for Barry to follow him. Barry obliges, scrambling to bring the toolbox. Magnus leads Barry down into the Starblaster, down past the living spaces, deep into the bowels of the ship until they reach a room full of machinery and spare parts.

He looks at Magnus blankly. “How did you—”

Magnus shrugs. “Sometimes things start clanking down here in the middle of the night and I’ve gotten really good at figuring out how to make them stop. Also, since none of the shit down here’s engine bits, I don’t feel too bad about poking down around here to get parts to fix the dryer.” He glances around the large room brimming with mechanical parts, some looking shiny and sleek, others looking to be grimy and older than the ship itself.

Barry steps forward and picks up a small cluster of gears. “I gotta say, Magnus, I feel bad for not giving you mo—” His face twists in confusion for a moment. “Why…Magnus. Why’d you just take off your shirt?”

Magnus quickly folds the shirt he was wearing not even ten seconds ago and drops it on the floor. “I gotta get in that back corner, that’s actually where a ton of the serviceable parts of the ship are at. Not the smartest way to construct the damn thing, I’ll say that.”

“Uh huh. And the shirt?”

“Oh! Yeah uh, I fixed the dryer but the washer is…it’s broken and I don’t want to try to handwash grease out of my shirt,” Magnus says, giving a sheepish grin. Barry sets the gears down and taps his fingertips together, resisting the immediate urge to wipe his hand off on some article of clothing.

“Now wait a minute, if you’re suddenly mister vehicle proficiency, why have I been putting my head through a wall every time something on this damn ship broke?”

“Because Cap said you’re like, some kind of mechanical whiz and that I ‘am a menace to anything requiring a steady hand.’” Magnus shrugs as he begins his pilgrimage to the back of the room.

Barry scoffs. “I lied!”

Magnus snorts and turns back to look at Barry. “You what?”

“I’m a great scientist but I don’t know shit about engineering! And I barely know anything about magic! Lup and Taako have been helping me out since they’re like, both supremely trained or whatever.” Barry follows Magnus from a distance, hoping to skirt any grime and dirt that may try to cling to his clothes.

“Nah, dude, the story they gave Dav about their tutor when they were kids? Big old lie, it turns out.”

“What.”

Magnus nods. “Yup. All self-taught. So, if they can be that good at magic with no instruction, you can get that good at fixing shit with a little help from yours truly!”

“You really think so?”

“Barry, I know so. I learned a ton of basic shit from my ma, since all our stuff was always on the fritz. Not exactly the same kind of stuff we see here but the way I figure, there’s only so many ways to build a machine. Now, let’s get this taken care of so you can take a crack at the washer.”

[mccoymccoymccoy]

Kirk - Go to your quarters or I’ll pick you up and carry you there.

A/N: I KNOW. I KNOW THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE OPPOSITE CONTEXT FROM WHEN HE SAID THAT. BUT WHEN HE SAID IT WE ALL GOT A TINGLE, NO? oh well. silly little brain.

Word count: 1,531

God, you were tired. Finally a calm day on the bridge- no engine repairs needed, no hostile encounters, no pointless orders from Starfleet- and yet it felt like the longest day since your shore leave on a planet with twenty hours of sun. Your nose was red and sore from patting at it with your sleeve, and you had a headache like what you imagined being struck by an ice pick would feel like.

“All in order, cap-” you paused, face contorting into the classic pre-sneeze expression. Oh, go away, go away, go away! Miraculously, it did. “-tain,” you finished, rubbing the side of your finger against your nose. He turned around and raised an eyebrow at you. “Lieutenant, it seems like you’ve still got a bit of that cold left. Didn’t Bones order you to take three days off? As long as I can still count, it’s only been two days.” Spock, who was walking past, nodded. “You can indeed still count, captain.” You sighed.

“Sir, with all due respect, a little almost-sneeze isn’t anything to worry about. I believe I’m perfectly able to perform my duties,” you lied.

He put one hand on his hip while the other pinched his forehead, and sighed right back at you. “Y/N, we don’t know how this cold- this virus, works. You heard what Bones said, it’s not like the old common Earth cold. You got hit the worst out of the landing party.” He may be a walking bullshit detector, but his reasoning was a void attempt to you.

You saw your duties as more important than anything, which he normally had incredible respect for, but you’d already lost out on two days. Two days, just kicking around your quarters and sneaking around your deck trying to find something to do. Somehow, every time, Bones or an ensign found you and had to bring you back. Mimicking him, you placed your hands on your hips and shifted your weight to one foot. You were starting to feel a bit light-headed, but you weren’t sure if it was because of the cold or him.

“Come on, Y/N.”

You looked down. His insisting this was really starting to make you nervous- not just because of the prospect of missing out on work. You were so fond of him that surely the rate of your heart and the anxious sweating would just make him more firm in his decision that you were unfit to work! Thinking about him made your headache worse than it already was, too. “Captain, please. I’m alright.” Your nose twitched another sneeze away.

“No more arguing, lieutenant. You’re off for the rest of today and tomorrow. That’s an order. Go.”

“Sir, please-”

“Go to your quarters or I’ll pick you up and carry you there.”

You froze. Your face flushed at the thought, and the pressure you’d been adding to your one leg became too much, causing a little stumble. Jim grabbed onto your arms quickly, steadying you. You started to explain about the pressure, but he shook his head. “Spock, you’ve got the bridge. Come on, Y/N. Let’s get you outta here,” he said before sweeping you off your feet into a bridal carry.

Captain Kirk, Captain James T. Kirk, was carrying you back to your own goddamn quarters. You pressed the hand that wasn’t wrapped around his neck against your face to cover your blush- What was his deal! “Captain, if you’re that concerned about my health, perhaps you wouldn’t want to be, well, this close to me? Please, put me down.” He looked down at you, brows furrowed. “It’s not a cold transmitted by contact, Lieutenant,” you sighed a little at him using your official title while carrying you like this. “Doctor McCoy explained that to you already. You’re tired, you almost collapsed on the Bridge, you need to get some sleep and rest. I won’t say it again.”

“But-” He softly stroked your shoulder with his thumb, and it shut you up immediately.

“That’s all I gotta do to quiet you down?” It had clicked for him just a few seconds prior that you weren’t acting strangely just because you were sick. He smiled down at you- something you’d usually expect to be snarky from anyone else after the last comment, but not from him. You knew your face must be redder than your shirt by now, and without thinking, you pressed into his chest to try to hide it. You felt his next chuckle more than you heard it.

You stayed like that for a few moments more until he made it to your door, inside, and to your bed, where he put you down gently. You sat up immediately, and he smiled again.

“Give it up, Lieutenant. I wouldn’t want to have to confine you to your quarters.” You frowned. “Captain, nothing is more important to me than my work. I’ve just got a headache and a tickly nose, at least clear me for tomorrow!” Your head pounded at the effort of raising your voice and you cringed in pain. Jim frowned now too, reaching out and then sitting down beside you. He thought for a moment, while you looked down with your hands in your lap.

“You know, Lieut- Y/N, you know, you’d be no good at your tasks right now anyway.” You laughed quietly. “Gee, thanks, Cap.” You watched as his hand found its way into your lap and between your clammy ones, fingers lacing with yours. He was looking at you, but your own eyes were glued to your lap. His next words were spoken so softly, you could hardly believe this was the same man who’d yelled at you earlier to take a rest.

“That didn’t quite come out how I meant. I meant, you’re an incredible officer who does incredible work here, and I’m sure you wouldn’t want to dampen that record because you don’t know how to relax when you need to.”

“This isn’t relaxing,” you sighed. His other hand reached up to cup your cheek, turning your face so you’d look at him. And you did- oh, how you did. How lovely it was to look at him up close, to look so deeply into his eyes you thought you’d never be able to escape. You always tried to avoid eye contact with him, and contact in general- which had always proved difficult. He was always asking you to join the landing party, and then dinner after, and a game in the rec room, and a gym session- you always tagged along, feeling like a pity case and wondering why he’d have you there. It had never once occurred to you that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way about you as you did him.

“I know. Maybe I could help that?” His eyes flickered to your lips for a moment, then back up. You looked down, leaning into his hand on your cheek and finally beginning to grasp the one in your lap rather than just letting it be there. “Maybe,” you said, barely above a whisper. He closed in, slowly at first, then quickly- he kissed you sweetly, and to say you melted inside would be an understatement. You moved one hand to touch the edge of his jaw ever so gently and felt him smile. He pulled away from you a bit, but stayed close, resting his forehead against yours.

“You sure you won’t catch this cold, Jim?” You smiled, and kept your eyes closed. You felt his breath against your cheek as he chuckled before responding: “So now we’re on a first name basis, I see?” You sat up abruptly, the brain fog hadn’t allowed you to interpret that as a joke. “If we aren’t sir, my sincerest apologies, I just-”

He gently grabbed your shoulders and kissed you again. Shorter this time, but not exactly a peck. You blinked at him, and he grinned.

“I was teasing.”

“Ah. Of course. Maybe I really do need some rest.” His eyes suddenly lit up, almost in a comical lightbulb-moment way. “Why don’t I stay with you a bit longer? You know, make sure you actually stay put and all.” You smiled and looked at the floor once again, but not before picking up on a slight blush from him. He truly was a sweetheart. You nodded, humming. “That would be nice, I think. What about the bridge though?”

“Spock will have it under control for as long as needed,” he responded while laying the two of you down. You wrapped an arm around his waist and cuddled into his shoulder, despite still thinking it’s completely inappropriate for you to do this with the captain- but he doesn’t seem concerned at all. Your tiredness had caught up with you once you finally allowed yourself to relax- you let out a loud yawn, and couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. “Try to sleep now, Y/N. I’ll be here.”

“Thanks, Jim,” you mumbled as you started to drift off. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, and you could feel him smiling again before your mind finally went quiet.

[tabletopwhumper]

Second post, but actually the first thing I ever wrote outside a character backstory.

A note for context: Ali was raised by who two older brothers after their dad was killed when she was eight. And even though it's been fifteen years since then neither brother has been able to shake the overprotective parent role, which has caused friction between the three of them many MANY times.

I did take some liberties with how medicine works in Shadowrun. I have only a vague working knowledge on how the mechanics play so I leaned pretty heavily on "if they have magic and smart weapons they gotta have some kick ass med clinics."

Blowback

A run for the Red Knights comes back to bite in a shit way.

CW: Whump, blood, gun violence, gang violence, and so much profanity.

Four. Fucking. Days.

How much life altering shit can possibly be crammed into four fucking days? A long time friend turned traitor. The Ancients' little rat's nest turned to rubble only to discover the real Ancients' deception. Mr. Johnson fucking her team over thoroughly.

But the thing making Ali’s chest feel tight is the fact that it’s been days since she’s talked to Jordan. Since White-Eyes' disappearing act her older brother hasn't been right. She’d watched from her barstool as he collapsed heavily into a chair, dead eyes staring straight ahead, hammering back one shot after another. She wanted nothing more than to speak to him at that moment but a small head shake from Tim warned her away. “Might wanna give him a bit, Sprog,” Jens also cautioned.

So Ali waits. But three days later her human brother’s eyes are still hollow. “How is he?” she’d quietly asked Tim after two nights of hard drinking.

“Not gonna lie to you. He’s not himself.”

“What does that even mean??”

“It means he needs time. The Ancients, White-Eyes…. It’s a lot. Give him time.”

So to The Engine Block she went. And there she stays, doing her best to help Jens optimize the bikes. Jordan had once told her that she helps the Knights best when she’s in the garage and Ali clings to those words, ensuring that each machine is in as prime condition as she can make it before moving on to other, more personal, projects. After helping Bean fix his Harley- fucking mages- she turns her attention to the armor repairs on her Roadmaster.

A fire blasted hole in one side hadn’t quite reached the interior. Ali is sure the charred edges are mocking her. But having something to take out her anger on is cathartic. Prying loose another damaged panel leaves her sweating. “Mother FUCKING Johnson,” she mutters, pulling back with all her weight. “Mother FUCKING spellcasters.” The panel finally gives way, nearly knocking her to the ground. But Ali catches herself at the last instant and hurls the scorched piece to the floor. “Motherfucking White-Eyes!”

“Trouble?”

Ali turns, surprised to hear another voice in the garage. She expects it’s either Jens or Newbie Mike sent to “check up” on her. What she does not expect is the abrupt ringing in her ears or the distinct feeling of being punched in the chest. The workbench stops her fall but there’s no air left in her lungs. Another punch, this one forcing her to her knees. Distantly Ali realizes the reason she can’t hear anything beyond the high pitched whine in her ears is because someone fired a gun in the garage.

Oh. Not a punch then. Shit.

A pair of booted feet approach from beyond her van. As he comes into view Ali can clearly see the shotgun draped over one shoulder. Home painted Ancients tags adorn the haphazard armor that looks like it was bought at a thrift store for gangers. His mouth is moving but she can’t hear a word. Dropping down to his knees, eyes level with hers, she can just barely make out what he’s saying.

“...bitch that killed my brothers.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I… didn’t…” she hopes the words are making it beyond her mouth despite the lack of air in her lungs.

��Sure ya did.” The elf sneers, eyes narrowing, as he brings a large nasty looking knife up for her inspection. “You… and that shit group of runners. You followed them home and burned down their nest. YOU!!” Ali tries to inch away from the pointed end of the weapon toward her van where she knows her own arms are waiting. But the elf laughs as her trembling limbs fumble to support her weight. “Oh please. You’re not going anywhere! Because I KNOW it was your sad little biker friends who put out the hit. So the way I see it?” Faster than she can see the knife is buried to the hilt in her middle. “I win twice.” The fucker twists the blade, slow and deliberate, before pulling hard to remove it from her flesh. Grabbing her commlink from where it sits on the workbench, the bastard gets to his feet. “Don’t bleed out too quick now. I want your friends to find you first.”

Ali’s thoughts race as she curls forward, arms rising in a futile attempt to stem the tide of blood. Too many wounds, too much damage… Her stomach is the worst, the knife’s jagged edges leaving a gaping hole. Red seeps through her fingers at an alarming rate. Looking around, trying not to let panic drown her, Ali looks for anything that might be of help… No. Not in the garage, not within reach.

The room is spinning.

She tries to get to her feet only to have one wobbly leg quickly collapse beneath her. Tears track down the sides of her face as she falls, and Alison silently prays that she will be the only one to die over this.

**************************************************

Ali’s message had been short and to the point: Down at EB. Come give me a hand?

Jordan had rolled his eyes but shrugged on his coat. He owes Ali a conversation anyways. Or, at least, Tim says he does. “She’s just worried about you.”

Walking in the back door of The Engine Block and Jordan can’t help but notice the unusual smell wafting through the air. Copper and smoke, like somebody had been setting off pipe bombs. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Moving a little faster toward the garage bays the smell gets stronger. “Ali? What the hell is that-”

There’s nothing that could have prepared him for this. For several heartbeats Jordan simply can’t fathom what he’s seeing.

Crimson. Copper. Ali.

His sister lays on her side amidst a sea of red, arms wrapped tightly around her middle as if to ward off the chill from the concrete floor. His legs are moving, body responding, though something in his brain has completely shut off. Kneeling in the sea, hands hovering, some distant rational part of him recognizes the mess seeping through his jeans while the primal animal in control howls that it doesn’t MATTER.

“Ali??” His voice is strangled, even in his own ears, as he turns his sister onto her back. Drawing her trembling arms away to assess the damage… Jordan nearly chokes. A gamut of red soaked wounds paint her front punctuated by a dangerous gouge in her middle. Quick labored breaths heave past ashen lips as he shakes her. “Ali?! Alison!!” Her eyes flutter and for a moment he’s relieved… until they open wide in panic.

“J-Jordan,” she gasps around the shivers wracking her body.

“You’re okay kid,” he murmurs. “I promise, you’re gonna be fine.”

“N-no! Y-y-ou n… need-”

“Shut up. I’m gonna get you to the doc.”

But as he moves to pull her from the floor she shoves him away, her failing strength evident in the weak attempt. “N-not s-afe,” she breaths. “A-a-ncien-"

"Awwww, the little bitch held on longer than I thought she would." Jordan's head snaps to the source of the scathing words as he instinctively clutches his sister closer. A lithe elf approaches slowly, leisurely, slow claps echoing off the rafters. "Or maybe you just showed up sooner than I expected. Either way… good job."

Comprehension gnaws its way through the adrenaline. This bastard shot Ali. He shot her, gutted her, left her to bleed out, lured me here. A rage like he's never felt corrodes his guts and rises with such abrupt intensity that he nearly chokes. Every nerve is alright with the demand for retribution, hands trembling but his arms are full… full of his sister looking weaker and more pallid by the second and her blood is still pooling and there isn't TIME for this!!

"What do you want?" Jordan rasps, shifting Ali in his arms.

"Isn't it obvious?" The elf stalks around the siblings in a wide circle while his shotgun remains trained on them. Taking a good look and it's easy for Jordan to pick out the rookie gear and shit weapon. "I want to SLAUGHTER every piece of shit Knight who had my BROTHERS KILLED!!" With the focus on them, Jordan knows he just has to watch the elf's footing, keep him talking…

"Brothers?" Jordan barks out with a laugh. "That what you call those shitty ganger cosplayers?" Feral rage dances across his adversary's face, his feet abruptly frozen to the floor. "Ya know what's really funny? The real Ancients? They're LAUGHING at your dead brothers. They used you fucks as cannon fodder for years."

"You’re LYING!!"

"Why the fuck would I lie? They're all dead. All but one. One. Dumb. Fuck."

Faster than he can track the elf darts forward, shotgun barrel flush against Jordan's forehead. "You're the one looking dumb now, human," he snarls. Glancing down to the wilting girl in Jordan's arms, the snarl twists into a grin. "And I think soon it'll just be you and me."

"Naw, I don't think so. We're not stupid enough to travel alone."

The shot from Steve's pistol sounds through the garage from its place at the back of the elf's head. As Jordan had hoped, the sorry excuse for a thug hadn't heard his Armenian friend slip in through the back door. For a few heart stalling seconds nothing moves. Time resumes as the elf falls into a graceless heap, the bullet hole still smoking from his left brow.

But Jordan can't spare a thought for the dead with Ali still struggling for breath in his arms. "Steve!" His friend's face darkens before he disappears into the back… and returns, trauma patch in hand. Jordan's eyes widen, hesitating only a heartbeat before snatching it away from his friend. "Call Chuck," he orders, planting the patch beneath Ali's shirt. "We need him now."

"Already done."

"Go wait out front, make sure they find us." The darker man nods, already pulling up his commlink as he jogs back toward the Block's entrance. "You're gonna be fine," Jordan whispers, clutching Ali tighter with one hand while the other presses against the gaping wound in her stomach. Already he can feel the flow of blood ebbing as the trauma patch does its work. Whether it's going to be enough- "You're gonna be fine."

"J-Jordan?"

"Yeah?"

"Sor-r-y I yelled at y-you."

"Shut up. You were drunk. You yell at me all the time."

"Th-i-is is di-fferent. Y-you d-i-idn't know."

Her eyes keep dipping closed. But it's the limpness in her arms as the tremors slow that's scaring him. Jordan props his sister up against his shoulder, shaking her. "Hey, c'mon, wake up Sprog." A breathy murmur is the only reply. His mind races. He's gotta keep her awake. "What didn't I know, huh? ALISON!!" Her eyes snap open. "What didn't I know?"

"I was so s-scared," Ali whispers around shallow breaths. Her eyes are still open but wander unfocused in the space between them. Altered state of consciousness from blood loss the rational part of his brain chimes. "A-and a-angry. There w-ere s-so m-many of them! I j-just wa-anted to h-e-lp… And… Ferg… h-he-"

The garage door lifting startles Jordan. But with the bust of adrenaline comes half a dozen familiar figures silhouetted in the headlights of a van. Chuck is the first as he kneels beside the siblings, somber and grim, inspecting Ali with a knowing eye. "How long?" he mutters.

"I don't know. Fifteen, twenty minutes?" Ali is still murmuring in breathy whispers, utterly oblivious to them.

"Get her in the van."

**************************************************

She’s too damn pale. Sitting on the floor of the van, Ali still cradled against his chest, Jordan tries to reign in the fear coursing through him. In the few short minutes since he had moved her from The Engine Block’s floor to the rickety van it seems as if her breaths have slowed, the tremors in her arms having stopped altogether. Sometimes he’s sure she’s awake but it’s quickly followed by more incoherent mutters.

“Her pressure’s shit,” Chuck mutters from behind the scanning tool in his hand.

“What can I do?”

The grizzled old man begins hooking Ali to a medkit. “Keep pressure on her gut. Get her talking if you can.”

Jordan presses a little harder on her middle as he shifts and begins shaking the shoulder her head rests against. “You hear that Sprog? Head up, you gotta keep talkin.”

Ali’s eyelids lift, but only just. He’ll take it. “Jordan?”

“Yeah kid, I’m right here.”

“Did… did h-e get any… anyone… else?”

“What, you weren’t enough?” A smile he doesn’t feel pulls at his lips but her fragile breaths cause it to evaporate just as quickly. “No kiddo. Just you.” His baby sister manages another shallow inhale that seems to catch… before she stops moving altogether. For one horrifying moment Jordan can't understand, can't figure out why her eyes are open but she’s not… "Ali?"

"Shit!" the doc declares even as the doors of the van are thrown open but Jordan can't pull himself from the face of his sister, utterly still, her blood still hot and sticky on his hands, eyes open and unseeing. An orc wearing the clinic's emblem on his coat pulls Ali from his arms. Instinct overtakes him and Jordan fights to pull her back… only to find Chuck steadying him with a firm hand. "We've got her lad."

"No, she-"

"You kept her alive this long. We've got her."

**************************************************

Fergal pushes his bike harder, trying to get a little more out of the old girl if it'll just get him to the clinic faster.

Bloody FUCKING ANCIENTS!!

His first memory of Alison is clear as day: wee Sprog sitting in the bar with one project or another broke apart across the table. A spitfire, even then. Knowing that he had brought this hell down on her, on them, that the rising tides of his war might have drowned the youngest Merrick….

"The kid’ll live,” Fatback had uttered as they watched Jordan gingerly carry his sister to the van. “If not there’ll be hell on earth, that’s for sure.”

The biker had meant it as an observation, a statement of fact. But Fergal clings to it as an oath sworn in blood: if Alison Merrick dies no Ancient to step foot in front of him will survive.

Fergal and Fatback storm into the clinic to find Jordan pacing the waiting area, blood still clinging to his hands and clothes. It's not the red that makes Fergal's heart stutter. He's no stranger to blood. But the frantic, almost feral, expression tearing across Jordan's face is enough to hurt the old soldier. "They took her in the back," Jordan explains, his voice wavering.

“How’s it look?”

Jordan shakes his head. “She wasn’t breathing. Ferg…. I don't….”

“She’ll pull through. Lass would never let a shotgun get the better of her.” Jordan doesn’t reply, simply stares at the tile beneath his feet.

The door at the end of the hall opening to the sound of booted feet heralds the approach of the rest of their party. Jens and Steve flank Tim as the trio joins them. The troll's eyes find his twin, taking in the crimson stains, and Fergal feels his rage flare at the fear the brothers share.

"Any word?” Jordan shakes his head. “How bad is it?”

“Bad.”

Tim looks his twin in the eye, steadfast and terrified all in the same instant. “She gonna be okay?”

A confession Fergal knows Jordan could only make to his brother: “I don’t know Timmy.” **************************************************

Two hours later there's still no news. Jens glances up to where the twins alternate wearing holes in the floor. Must be Jordan's turn to pace because Timmy is the one sitting with his arms crossed, lips pressed into a firm line. The human brother fidgets on his feet, possessed by a fear Jens doesn't want to think about.

Opening the garage door, seeing blood on the concrete and Jordan's desperate gaze… she'd been alone. Ali had been alone on Jens' watch. Guilt worms freely though his gut. He’d known the Merricks long enough to remember their dad. Hell, Jordan and Timmy were better to him than his own. And to get that call, to raise the garage door and find Jordan kneeling on the crimson floor clutching his lifeless kid sister… In HIS shop. HIS garage.

Jordan stops at the window as a deep shuddering sigh heaves from his shoulders. Jens joins his friend, speaking in low tones. "I'm sure Doc will have something for us soon," he offers lamely, extending a cigarette to fill the void of his platitudes.

"I hope so. I'm fuckin losing it over here."

Jens pats his long time friend on the back. "I can't imagine. I…" Jens scowls. "Christ, I'm so sorry. If I hadn't left her there alone-"

But Jordan is shaking his head. "No. This isn't on you. I should've been watching her closer. I should've-"

"Jordan." Both men turned to Tim. "Don't. You can't watch her every minute. And if you tried she wouldn't let you."

"Yeah." The human twin doesn't sound convinced. His friend doesn't wear grief easily and to see both of the twins so raw… Jens silently vows to do whatever he can to get the twins through this, no matter what happens next-

The small side door opens to reveal Chuck as every eye levels on him. Jordan takes a few tentative steps as Timmy gets to his feet. "Hey, doc…?" Chuck looks up and for a moment Jens fears the worst. Don’t even fucking-

"She's alive." Relief blows through the room and for a second Jordan looks as if his legs will give out. “I won’t sweeten it for you lads: it’s bad. There’s a lot of damage, she lost a lot of blood.”

“But she’s okay.”

When the doc doesn’t answer right away Jens feels his stomach sink. “...let’s just see how the next few days go. We put her on a vent to keep her lungs workin. Lass just… doesn’t have enough to keep everythin runnin on her own.”

“Can we see her?”

“Aye. Thought you'd want to."

**************************************************

Edging into the small room, Jordan isn't sure what to expect. But his heart falls at the sight of his sister. His baby sister…

"When can I work on the bikes?"

"When you're big enough to reach the ground from the seat."

"Jordan! Tim pushed me off the bench!"

"Did you deserve it?"

"..... maybe."

"I don't feel good."

"C'mere kid…"

“I love you Jordan, please don’t leave…”

Ali lays swathed in white sheets. Her chest rises and falls in rhythm with the ventilator while a nest of tubes and monitors keeps her this side of death’s door. But the girl in the bed looks wrong. Her skin is white and bloodless, complexion the same as when she'd been dying on the garage floor, punctuated by deep bruises beneath closed eyes. When had he last seen her eyes open?

"Did he get anyone else?"

"Fuck Ali," Jordan breaths as he reaches the side of the bed.

Tim's heavy hand finds his shoulder. "She's alive,” his twin murmurs. Jordan isn’t sure who the reassurance is meant for. But he'll take it.

**************************************************

Four. Fucking. Days.

Four of the longest days of Jordan’s life finds Ali back at The Last Round. Still unconscious, still hooked to all manner of machines, but breathing on her own and stable enough that Chuck deems it safe to move her. There the twins can keep a close eye on her progress as their adopted family of bikers struggle to rebuild itself after the Ancients’ devastating reveal.

Jordan for one is happy for the distraction. He’s better when he’s moving, working… doing anything but sitting beside his still too pale comatose sister. He’s out with Fergal, negotiating for a few extra sets of hands, when his commlink begins to chirp.

**************************************************

While Tim and Weaver make a desperately needed supply run Jens offers to sit with Ali. Despite Jordan’s need to be busy the bigger twin had insisted a spare set of eyes rest on their sister until Chuck is more comfortable with her status. The girl hasn’t moved in four days despite the many meds and oxygen mask keeping her whole.

Jordan had tried to claim responsibility, but the guilt planted firmly in Jens’ gut tells him where the real blame rests. Because he’d left. He’d left her alone.

“Hey Sprog!” Ali rolled out from beneath her van, one hand full of bolts while the other gripped a wrench. “I’m headed back. You comin?”

She considered it. But something anxious crossed her face before she shook her head. “Naw, I'm gonna finish up first. I’ll be over in a few.”

“You want help?”

“Naw, it’ll just be a few minutes. Go ahead, I’ll catch up.”

She hadn’t though. He knows now that she had no intention of returning to the bar. Her hesitation, the amount of time she spent at the garage in the days prior, any excuse to stay out of Jordan’s vicinity. If only he’d waited a few minutes. If only he’d recognized sooner…

“Go back to the Round,” Fergal uttered to Jens and Steve as they watched Jordan gingerly carry his sister toward the makeshift ambulance. “Get Tim, bring him to the clinic.”

“What do we tell him?”

“Tell him she’s alive.”

Hardest thing he’d ever done. How the twins don’t blame him he doesn’t know. Watching over the youngest Merrick seems like the least that he can do. Idly browsing through the net on his commlink, it's impossible to focus. The motions are almost mechanical, fingers browsing without interest, eyes seeing without seeing… until a low huff sounds from the bed before him. Quickly he jumps to his feet, moving closer, and finds his charge awake, eyes wandering.

“Jens,” she breathes beneath the oxygen mask on her face.

“Yeah. Hey kid.”

A smile, small and weary as it is, appears in the corner of her mouth. “Hey.” Her voice is scarcely more than a whisper. Ali’s eyes roam the room before settling back on him. “Where’s…?”

“Tim went out for supplies. Told me to watch you. Jordan is out running around with Fergal and Fatback.” For a moment something shadows her gaze. Then, to his horror, she moves to sit up. “Oh, uh, no. Just… shit, just stay put. I’ll get the doc.” As he makes his way down to the bar he raises his commlink.

**************************************************

Jordan pushes his bike faster, Jens’ call still echoing in his ears.

“Hey. Listen, Ali’s awake.”

“What? Doc said-”

“Yeah I know but she’s awake and she’s asking for you guys. Tim’s a few hours out-”

“I’m on my way.”

When he passes through the door to The Last Round his feet lead them toward the safehouse almost without thought… to find a familiar gaze staring back at him. Still prone, still lying flat amongst a sea of tubes, but awake. All the breath leaves his lungs. Awake and alert after four days of cool white flesh. After watching her dying by inches in his arms…

“I just wanted to help…”

Jordan crosses the space between them and wraps his arm around the back of her head, pulling his brow against hers. “God dammit kid,” he whispers, his voice wavering around the looseness in his chest, “you can’t do this shit to me.”

Tears swim in her eyes. “Sorry.” But Jordan makes no move to withdraw, her hitched breaths and responsive expression more of a comfort than anything else could be.

“Everybody else okay?” she asks quietly, the words seeming labored beneath the hiss of the oxygen.

“Yeah Sprog. Everybody’s good.” The sound of Chuck clearing his throat sounds from the doorway. “I think the doc wants to have a look at you. But I’ll be right outside, okay?” Ali nods, her eyes beginning to droop. “Hey,” he brings her gaze back to him. “You’re staying close for a while, you hear me?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, though he recognizes the patronizing tone beneath the word. “I hear you."

[kerra-and-company]

Okay since it's Nisha hours I gotta ask - how did Nisha fall for Kerra? What did Kerra do to win xyr affection, admiration and love? Like what qualities do xe look for and found in her? Gimme that shippy goodness

Ooh, okay, ship ask! :D Enabling my Nisha hours, thank you xD

All righty: we're going to start with a bit of context, because I am apparently in the mood to tell the entire story--even though that's very much more than what you asked for. This is most definitely going to get VERY long, and I apologize in advance (but not really, aslkdjf).

Once Rel leaves the Priory, he sends Nisha a lot of letters. (It takes xem a bit to start responding, but eventually xe does as xe starts to be more comfortable with him being away.) He talks about plenty of the stuff that happens to him as he travels, including where he's been (starting off in Lion's Arch before making a loop through Gendarran Fields and Kessex Hills in the direction of the Grove) and who he's met. Tl;dr: Nisha's heard about Kerra via Rel's letters before they ever actually meet in person.

Xe has...mixed feelings about the fact that Rel's clearly made a close friend. On the one hand, xe's no longer in a situation where xe's clinging to him out of desperation and fear of losing him. On the other, even though xe has tentatively bonded with Cio and Sieran by the time Rel tells xem about Kerra, it still feels like another layer of distance between xem and Rel at first.

However, Nisha doesn't meet Kerra right after xe first hears about her. Rel stays in the Caledon area for a while, and Nisha runs missions in the Shiverpeaks with Cio and Sieran. It has plenty of time to sink in over the course of a few months, and seeing names repeat themselves in Rel's letters (first Kerra, but a bit later Trahearne as well) stops hurting Nisha and starts making xem quietly happy that xyr brother has people making him happy.

In a world that was less close to falling apart, Nisha probably would have met Kerra at some sort of scheduled event--nothing important, just casual, like a "Rel's bringing a friend over for dinner" kind of situation. That's not this world, though. Here, Nisha runs into Kerra in the Lion's Arch sewers while xe, Cio, and Sieran are following the trail of yet another Orrian scout.

Well, not just Kerra. It's Kerra, and Tybalt Leftpaw, and a pair of Vigil soldiers--Forgal Kernsson and Minei. The group makes a tentative alliance to track down the scout, and, after defeating it, they all decide to share the information they have, leading them to come to the collective decision that Lion's Arch, and Claw Island, are probably in danger.

They make proper introductions on the trip to the island, at which point Nisha fully puts together that this is the Kerra xe's heard about, and Kerra puts together that this is her best friend's sibling (who she's also heard a decent amount about). They know bare-bones info about each other at this point. Kerra knows that Nisha's a capable engineer and fighter who is protective and afraid of losing control, and Nisha knows that Kerra's a dedicated Valiant and ranger who smiles often and puts too much on her own shoulders. (You also can probably tell something about Rel based on what he's shared about each of them to each other, haha; he cares and worries about both of them. Anyways, moving on!)

Claw Island happens, and the details of that in my canon would be its own post. But they lose all three mentors, and they have to flee from the island, Nisha having to physically pull Cio away from the fortress. (Away from Sieran.)

The trip back is a lot quieter. Nisha sits next to Cio, holding her with one arm while xyr friend stares vacantly into space. But Kerra's moving. Kerra's not still. Kerra goes to the young Warmaster, Minei, and gives her her coat. Kerra goes to Trahearne and Deputy Mira and has a conversation Nisha can't hear (but she leaves her jungle stalker curled up by the badly-injured Mira's side). And Kerra comes up to Nisha and Cio and offers to help Nisha with xyr injured arm.

Nisha isn't sure what to do and what to say, but Cio blinks back to herself for a moment and turns her eyes to xem, says to let Kerra help. And Kerra says please. And Nisha sees in that moment how close Kerra is to falling apart herself, and that she won't let that happen, and that she desperately needs to do something to help so she won't break.

And Nisha says okay, and Rel's friend wraps xyr wound. Those are the first things Nisha really learns about Kerra on xyr own--she cares, so much, and she also, like xem, is someone trying so hard to stay strong.

They meet Rel back on mainland Lion's Arch. He'd been trying to get across the impending crisis to the Captain's Council, but at this point persuasion is not really necessary as the crisis is no longer an impending one. He hugs xem tightly, and then he hugs Kerra, and Nisha instinctively puts one hand on each of their shoulders when they pull apart. It's a little awkward to be honest, but it's just for a second, just a moment of "I'm here for you, I see you." Rel puts a hand over xyr hand, squeezing it before xe pulls away. And Kerra, who hasn't cried yet but whose eyes haven't stopped shining, smiles at xem, just a little.

The group separates, and they go on their own individual missions for their Orders. Rel tells Nisha that he thinks he needs to go with Kerra and Trahearne, and it's not an intentional test of any kind, but at the same time Nisha is mildly surprised by how okay with it xe is when xe nods. Xe pulls him into an awkward but very tight hug, and they separate again.

Rel comes racing to find her and Cio at the Priory about a day later, breathing hard like he's been running, urgently telling them about how an attack on their order is imminent--Kerra and Trahearne saw it in a vision from their Mother, and Kerra's gone to the Order of Whispers, and Trahearne went to tell and assist the Vigil; it's faster than trying to send letters at this point.

They take back Claw Island after that, all three orders together, and Nisha, for what is honestly the first time in xyr life, lets xemself fully be angry. Every hit from xyr rifle or blow from xyr sword is for Sieran, for what xe's lost. And xe sees the same thing in the humorless quirk of Cio's mouth when another Risen falls, in the way Minei tears into the crowd of enemies with a swarm of minions at her back, the way Kerra puts away her bow and pulls out her sword when it's time to attack Blightghast.

Kerra, Rel's friend and now also a little bit Nisha's, takes on the title of Pact Commander, standing on the ramparts beside her brother. If Nisha needed another reason to respect her, this would have done it--seeing this person standing up and rallying a group of people who a day before had been on less than stellar terms, and seeing her do it so well and with such confidence that they all cheered for her, and seeing her do it while Nisha knew how much she, too, was grieving a loss.

They don't work directly together a whole lot as the Pact moves fully into being, but they also aren't particularly distant--Kerra's the Commander now, after all. Nisha has zero paperwork in order (xe's never been an official member of the Priory, despite everything), but xe's accepted as a member of the Pact without question.

(An off-topic fun fact: Nisha doesn't have an official rank in the Pact. Most everyone has one corresponding to an order they're in, but that doesn't work for Nisha for obvious reasons. Minei calls xem "lieutenant" once, half-jokingly, and it catches on a bit.)

Kerra goes on her own missions (with Trahearne, with other soldiers, with Tonn), Nisha goes on different ones (with Cio, with Apatia). They meet up again to defend Fort Trinity (and the orb Nisha & co. retrieved), successfully fending off the Risen. Kerra goes off on her own for a bit, afterwards, and comes back to the fort shaken. Nisha's the one to find her first, by pure chance. They sit together in a hidden corner of the fort, and Kerra tells Nisha about Tonn. About Ceera. About how guilty she feels about this (about more than just this is left unsaid as a quiet implication).

Nisha does see her cry, this time. A little, at least.

(Nisha tells her about Apatia in this conversation too, eventually. The first mission they run together after Claw Island is to rescue Apatia. Even though the mission was doomed from the start, they are at least able to set her free, in a specific sense of the word.)

During the rest of the fight against Zhaitan, they continue to work together, on and off. They're not quite ready to claim the "close friends" title at this point in the way that Kerra and Rel are, or Nisha and Cio, but they do make a good team, and they're able to give each other a quiet kind of support that comes from two people that are still very much in the early stages of dealing with their issues.

And then there's "Victory or Death", and Zhaitan is dead. And it's a sense of accomplishment for Nisha even if this had been a relatively new goal for xem, and xe's actually ready to join the party--ready, even if only temporarily, to let xyr walls down in favor of being happy.

But Kerra isn't.

(Xe, when xe's talking to Kerra much later down the line, realizes that xe was probably one of the very few people who saw the exact moment where Kerra realized her Wyld Hunt wasn't done--who saw the second her smile dropped off her face.)

Rel is the first one to fully realize that Kerra's really gone, thanks to the letter he finds among his things the next morning. And it's a terrible time for this to happen, because he would chase after her, but he can't, not immediately, and really, neither can anyone else close to her. There's injured soldiers to treat, and things to organize, and next steps to plan. But he tells Trahearne (who also received a letter), and he tells Nisha.

They aren't able to put the full picture together (they'd need Kerra to do that), but Nisha is the one to just flat-out say "she blames herself for losses that aren't her fault". Rel, who's seen the near-full evolution of that self-blame (and to an extent, self-hatred), is the one who suggests writing her letters so that there's evidence of how much people care about her, in the hope that it might inspire her to take care of herself. It sounds a little dramatic to Nisha at first, to be honest, but that's not that strange for an idea from xyr brother, and xe agrees that it could help. Trahearne manages to find and ask Caithe, Rel asks a small group of others, and Nisha asks Minei and Cio (and writes one xemself).

And Nisha is the one to go find her.

Minei and Cio are both on assignment elsewhere, Trahearne is Marshal and has to stay, Caithe is doing her own thing somewhere, and Rel is busy with his medic duties. Xe's the only friend who's a practical choice, so it's xem by process of elimination, but xe would have gone even if that wasn't the case. Nisha's a good tracker, and by this point, deeply respects Kerra for her leadership and the kindness she's more than willing to openly show. And xe cares about her as a person, too--someone who xe's seen at a pretty low point, who reached out to xem even then, who deserves people to do the same for her.

Nisha does find Kerra, injured badly and recovering in a homestead in Wayfarer Foothills, and they have a conversation (see my fic "spiral", which I should probably revisit now that I have a better idea of all the context for it). Nisha finds xemself raising xyr voice, not angry but unexpectedly desperate, being forced to confront both how much xe cares about what's going on and how much xyr emotions are most definitely at the forefront. Nisha gives her the letters. Kerra finally does fully break down, and they hug, and they make a promise to be there for each other.

(Nisha stays awake a lot later that night than Kerra does, watching xyr friend's chest rise and fall and pretending xyr own cheeks are completely dry.)

There's a whole lot more I could talk about with regards to them--how they work together during LWS1 (and meet the third member of their eventual trio), their dynamic during LWS2 (and the specific moment where Nisha realizes xe has a decent-sized crush), more details about HoT, etc. But your question was about how Nisha fell for Kerra--how Kerra won xyr affection/admiration/love. And this whole very long post answers a lot of that.

Kerra's someone who xyr brother trusts as a friend and who helped him be happy after he'd traveled so far on his own. Kerra's someone who would and did and does reach out in the middle of her own pain to help others going through the same thing; she's someone who's brave. Kerra's someone who cares and isn't afraid to show it, but simultaneously tries to be what everyone else needs more than what she herself needs. And there's a thousand other small things and small moments, where Nisha sees in Kerra someone who laughs loud and bright at bad puns, who sings with her entire heart every time even if it's a snippet as a joke, who's incredibly capable at her job and everything it entails, who heads toward danger with her eyes wide open.

(And I have now written probably at least twenty short paragraphs about Nisha starting to fall for Kerra. I hope this qualifies for shippy goodness, Nero xD )

[chickwiththepurpleguitar]

If you're still taking prompts you should do some rebuke and hurt/comfort!!

Sorry this took so long, but luckily there's a lot of it!! Hope you enjoy!

This is part of my All Too Well Splinterverse series, so a direct sequel to something about it felt like home somehow, cause there we are again in the middle of the night, and so casually cruel in the name of being honest. It won't make much sense if you haven't read all three of those.

read on ao3 here!

--

Bobby gives it three days. Three days where he catches up on missing homework and takes his antibiotics and a lot of naps and feels like a terrible person. And then he calls Luke.

“I fucked up,” he says the second Mrs. Patterson passes over the phone, without so much as bothering to say hello.

“Whoa, uh, okay,” Luke says, and coughs a little awkwardly. “Did you cheat on me or something? Are we breaking up? Cause if we’re breaking up, you gotta at least give me twenty minutes to get over there; no way in hell am I letting you dump me over the phone.”

“No! What? No.” Bobby’s out in the studio for some privacy; he sits up on the couch and runs a hand through his hair, grips the cordless phone a little tighter. “This has nothing to do with you! I fucked up with Reggie.”

“Reggie?” Luke repeats. “Dude, what’d you do? Kick a puppy or something?”

Bobby lets out a sigh that’s really more of a groan. To be fair, he probably could’ve started this conversation with just a tiny bit of context. “ No. I just… I think I hurt his feelings.”

Luke’s quiet for a really long time, in that thoughtful, pensive way he usually only gets when he’s writing a song. It’s usually accompanied by a lot of bouncing and fidgeting, because Luke gets restless easily, and if he can’t expel energy through his mouth, he’s gotta let it out some other way or he’ll implode. It almost brings a smile to Bobby’s lips, just thinking about it. Finally, Luke says, “Can I come over?”

Despite himself, Bobby’s stomach flips at the question. He and Luke have talked almost every day in the last week or so, but they haven’t actually seen each other in person since Luke got out of the hospital. They’ve both been too sick, and then Luke’s been trying to stay home as much as he can, build some trust back up with his mom.

“I might be contagious still,” Bobby warns him, rubbing absently at his chest. “No fever since the day before yesterday, but I’ve still got this cough I can’t shake.”

Luke scoffs, like he knows just as well as Bobby how lame an excuse that is. “Bro, I’m pretty sure I can’t catch the cold I gave you. If you’re not ready, I get it, but… whatever happened with Reggie, I think it’d be easier if we talk face to face.”

Luke pauses, then adds, “Plus, you know… I really do want to see you.”

Bobby has to swallow past a piercing ray of sunshine shooting through his stomach. “I want to see you, too. Okay, come on over, just know my mom’s probably gonna fuss over you.”

“Yeah, well, the last time she saw me, I was unconscious and dying, so I can’t exactly blame her.”

A smile tugs at Bobby’s lips. He and Luke may have gotten together under the strangest circumstances— and “together” is still sort of a loose term; mostly, they’ve just made out a couple times and Luke gave Bobby bronchitis— but at least they have each other now. More than that, even— they both have their families back.

“Think your mom will be cool?” Bobby checks. “With you coming over, I mean? I know she’s been keeping you on kind of a tight leash. And I don’t think she likes me very much.”

“She’s barely met you,” Luke points out.

“Yeah, and the one time she did, she called me a kidnapper. And something in French that you refuse to translate.”

“Purely for your own good.” Luke’s teasing grin is audible, even over the phone. “Listen, Bobbers, that was an emotional day for us all, and Emily Patterson is hardly well-known for being calm and rational under stressful circumstances. But once I sat her down and explained everything to her, I think the ‘saved me from dying’ thing made up for the ‘hid me in your garage for two months’ thing. She likes you just fine.”

Bobby’s not entirely sure he believes him, but there’s no point in pushing it. “Well, if you need me to come over there instead, just let me know.” He starts to swing his legs off the couch, bending over to search for his shoes, but has to pause to cough into his elbow a few times, his chest twinging.

“Half an hour,” Luke insists. “And drink some tea while you wait for me, I don’t like that you’re still coughing.”

Bobby grumbles noncommittally, lays back down on the couch. “Just get over here, Patterson. I can’t deal with your mother henning over the phone.”

Luke breathes out a laugh, and it might just be the most beautiful sound Bobby’s ever heard. “Love you, too, baby.”

***

Luke hangs up the phone and immediately takes stock of himself.

The last week, living back at home with his mom and dad again, has not been nearly as bad as he thought it would be. Maybe he’s gotten more patient since running away from home. Maybe his parents have gotten a little more perspective. Maybe all three of them just needed a few months apart and a serious wake-up call to start seeing things through each other’s eyes.

Whatever the reason, Luke and his mom haven’t fought once since he moved back home, and his dad even told Luke he’d like to come to one of his shows once Sunset Curve starts playing again. They’ve had to establish a lot of new boundaries, the three of them, and quite a few ground rules— if Luke weren’t sick, he’d be in trouble, his mom said, but she thought his hospital stay and cracked ribs were punishment enough— but so far things have been good. And Luke would very much like to keep them that way.

So, he stands in front of the bathroom mirror and takes a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. The breath is free of congestion, doesn’t make him cough or hurt his ribs anymore. His face is a little red— purely just because talking to Bobby these days makes him blush like crazy— so he splashes some cool water on his face and waits until the flush fades from his cheeks before he heads out to the living room.

Emily’s sitting on the couch with her knitting, an old episode of The Brady Bunch playing low on the TV. She looks up and smiles when he enters, and Luke’s skin crawls a little. She gets this look on her face sometimes, when she looks at him now. Like she can’t believe how lucky she is. Like she still sort of expects to wake up and find she’s lost him. Again.

It makes Luke feel all sorts of guilty.

“Off the phone?” she asks him, a little redundantly, as he hands over the cordless. “How’s Robert?”

“Bobby’s feeling better,” Luke says honestly. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and rocks back and forth on his heels, standing awkwardly in front of the couch. “Can I go to his tonight? Something happened between him and Reggie, I was gonna help him out.”

Emily frowns, but doesn’t outright refuse, or accuse him of lying so that he can go out and play a club or something, like she might have three months ago. Maybe she really does trust him more now, or maybe she just likes Reggie enough to put aside her suspicions, but all she says is, “How are you feeling?”

Luke takes another slow breath, letting her hear how it doesn’t so much as catch in his throat. “No cough, no fever. Ribs only hurt when I get out of breath, but I’ll bike slowly, and we won’t be playing or anything. I’ll leave my guitars here, even.”

He sees it in his mom’s expression— the trust in him, the complete and utter belief she has that he’s telling her the truth. It’s something he might’ve taken advantage of, before. But for the first time in his life, he has absolutely no desire to lie to her.

Emily gently lays her knitting down on the coffee table in front of her and gestures Luke forward, stretching out a hand. He obediently leans down to let her brush his fringe aside and feel his forehead.

She hums approvingly a moment later and lets him go. “Ask your father to drive you. Will you be home for dinner, or are you spending the night?”

“I’m not sure,” Luke says, “but I’ll call around five either way?”

“Perfect.” She gives him that smile again— that look — and Luke turns away before he can think too hard about how much he doesn’t deserve it.

His dad is quiet on the drive over, but he lets Luke fiddle with the radio and kick his feet up on the dashboard, and doesn’t protest when Luke rolls the window up and down every five minutes. He parks the car in Bobby’s driveway, right outside the studio, but doesn’t shut the engine off. Something tells Luke to linger an extra moment or two before getting out.

“You need any money?” Mitch asks, finally.

No, but I’ll take some, Luke would’ve said, before, and then probably blown it on junk food or guitar picks or something. Instead, he shakes his head, leg bouncing, says, “Nah, dad, we’re just gonna be talking.”

Mitch nods and leans forward to peer through the windshield up at the studio. Luke follows his gaze. He can only imagine what his dad must be thinking: So this is where my son was living for two months because he didn’t feel safe at home.

“I’ll call home to let you know when to pick me up,” Luke says, desperate to fill the silence, and reaches for the door handle. “See you later, Dad.”

He catches half a glimpse of his father’s face as he heads up the drive: Mitch looks pensive and sad, and at least twenty years older than he really is.

Luke drags in a breath, and tries not to feel too guilty.

He’s barely rapped his knuckles against the studio door when it’s yanked open from the inside and Luke gets a faceful of t-shirt as Bobby tugs him into a strong-armed hug.

“Hey!” Luke laughs breathlessly. “I missed you, too.”

Bobby presses his face into Luke’s neck, tightening his hold. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course, baby.” Luke rubs his back, trying to follow his instincts without getting too self-conscious. He hasn’t seen Bobby in a while, and somehow using pet names and terms of endearment was easier over the phone. Holding him and letting himself be held was easier when he was sick and hurting and had an easy excuse. But he doesn’t want Bobby to think Luke loves him any less, or that Luke’s ashamed of him or something, just because they’re both healthy.

Still. “We should get inside,” he murmurs, lips pressed into Bobby’s hair. “My dad’s kinda sitting in his car watching us, and I can feel him getting uncomfortable.”

Bobby snorts, his shoulders shaking under Luke’s touch. But then he nods and pulls away, swiping the back of his hand across his face; Luke thinks he catches the glisten of tears.

Inside the studio, with the doors shut tight and the sound of Luke’s dad’s car disappearing down the street, Luke sits Bobby down on the couch and says, “So. Reggie.”

Bobby’s quiet as he tells the story, his head ducked low and his hands clasped tightly between his legs. Luke keeps a hand on Bobby’s back, rubbing gentle circles as he listens to Bobby talk.

When he goes quiet, Luke takes a minute to breathe and think, before he carefully summarizes, “So… Reggie’s mad at you cause you didn’t wanna tell Alex about your headaches?”

“Reggie’s mad at me,” Bobby corrects, his voice breathy with exhaustion, “because I didn’t wanna tell him either. If he hadn’t caught me in the middle of one, I probably wouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“How come?” Luke tries for gentle, but he’s not sure he quite makes the mark. “You had no trouble telling me.”

“You’re easy,” Bobby grumbles. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to make a good first impression. Doesn’t matter so much if you think I’m weak.”

“And it does with Reggie?” He doesn’t bother asking about Alex. Luke loves the guy, but he knows better than anyone how bitey and judgmental Alex can get. How slow to trust. Luke doesn’t much love showing weakness in front of Alex either. But Reggie… “Bro, Reggie just wants to be helpful. He’d care that you’re hurting, not that you weren’t totally together all the time. He wouldn’t think you’re weak.” He adds as an afterthought, “...and Alex would get over it.”

Bobby huffs out a laugh. He chokes on it, then turns away from Luke to cough into his fist. Luke rubs his back, feeling the tremors that the coughing fit causes, and winces in sympathy as Bobby takes a slow breath and rubs his chest like it hurts. Luke knows the feeling.

Acting on instinct, Luke reaches over and brushes Bobby’s hair back, pressing a palm to his forehead. He doesn’t feel warm, thank god, but he still leans into the touch, his eyes closing in relief, even as he mumbles, “Told you, I don’t have a fever.”

“I know,” Luke says softly, and really means, I’m sorry. “You want my advice, about Reggie?”

Bobby gives a tiny nod, makes a soft whining sound in the back of his throat that Luke is pretty sure is supposed to be a yes.

“You don’t have to try so hard. Reggie and Alex both, they… they want to be your friends. You just gotta let them.” He runs his hand through Bobby’s hair in slow, gentle strokes. “And with Reggie, a sincere apology goes a long way.”

Bobby nods again and slumps over to lay his head on Luke’s shoulder. “I’ll call him in the morning. For tonight…” Luke feels him tense, but when Bobby lifts his eyes to Luke’s, they’re open and vulnerable and honest, as he says, “Will you stay?”

Luke’s heart does a happy little flip-flop inside his chest. “Of course I will.” He presses a kiss to Bobby’s head and reluctantly pushes himself up off the couch. “Lemme just go call my folks and let them know I’m sleeping over. If I’m not back in ten, assume your mom’s kidnapped me to test out that aromatherapy treatment she kept going on about. And I’m bringing you tea.”

Bobby protests out of principle, calls him a nuisance, and a worrywart and a nag, but Luke feels Bobby’s smile on his back all the way out the door.

***

Reggie drops his bike along the wall beneath the Pattersons’ front window and skips up to the door, swallowing back the nerves drying his throat before quickly jabbing his finger against the doorbell.

Its chime echoes long and loud, enough that it makes Reggie flinch, makes him pick at his fingers and start to think that maybe coming here wasn't the best idea after all.

Because Luke’s still recovering. Luke’s got a boyfriend now. Luke shouldn’t have to spend time and energy worrying about Reggie and all his problems.

But before Reggie can turn around and leave, the door opens, and Luke’s mom smiles at him.

“Reginald! How are you, dear?”

“Very well, thank you!” Reggie smiles politely, bouncing on his heels a little. “How are you, Mrs. P?”

“I’m just fine, Reginald.” She leans against the doorway, her expression turning a little amused. “Did you need something, dear? Luke’s not home.”

“Oh, he’s not?” Reggie’s heart sinks. He clears his throat a little. “Um, is he… do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Probably not until morning. He’s staying at Robert’s tonight.”

“He’s sleeping over?” he repeats, surprised. Mitch and Emily Patterson don’t seem like the kind of parents who’d be particularly chill about their son spending the night at his boyfriend’s house.

It only then occurs to Reggie that maybe they don’t know Bobby is Luke’s boyfriend…

“I have the phone number,” Mrs. Patterson says, oblivious to Reggie’s conundrum, “if you needed to get in touch with Luke.”

“Oh. Oh, no, it’s okay.” Reggie fixes his smile back into place, swallows thick disappointment. “I’ll head over to Bobby’s, or… or I’ll catch Luke another time. Thanks, Mrs. P!”

He thinks she might start to say something else, but Reggie doesn’t hang around to listen. He scoops up his bike and disappears down the drive, pedaling as hard as he can so the adrenaline will overtake his complex jumble of emotions.

He shouldn’t bother Luke. He doesn’t really need him. He’d just been lonely, and his parents were fighting, and getting out of the house seemed like a really good idea at the time. Plus, he’s been sulking for days now since he yelled at Bobby, and Luke somehow always knows how to cheer Reggie up, even if Reggie wasn’t exactly planning on telling him what’s wrong.

But Luke’s with Bobby. Reggie can’t interrupt them. Luke will almost undoubtedly be mad at Reggie if he finds out Reggie shouted at his boyfriend. Bobby’s probably mad at him already.

As far as Reggie knows, Bobby might just turn him away on sight. Before Reggie even has half a chance to apologize.

Despite this thought process, Reggie’s bike skids to a stop on familiar concrete, bringing him to the realization that he rode to the studio without even thinking about it.

One of the doors has been left open. He can smell popcorn and spices carried out on the wind. He can hear Luke’s laughter, Bobby coughing, a Rolling Stones album playing softly in the background.

It makes Reggie’s throat feel tight, makes it hurt to breathe. He’s so… lonely. He wants what they have, and knows he can’t get it.

He should just go home.

He starts to turn away, but Luke’s voice stops him, calling, “Reg, hey! What are you doing here, man?”

Reggie swallows and awkwardly turns back to face the studio, where Luke’s lounging in the doorway grinning at him, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. Reggie manages a tiny smile of his own that he can only hope is convincing. “Hey, Luke. You, uh… your mom told me you’d be here.”

Reggie starts to add, But I should probably just go, but the words die on his tongue when Bobby appears over Luke’s shoulder, looking pale and tired, his hands in his pockets and his shoulders up at his ears.

“Hey, Reg,” Bobby says, low and gruff.

Reggie swallows, his hands tightening their grip around the handlebars of his bike. “I just… I wanted to talk to Luke?” he says simply, which isn’t totally a lie. “But I can go… if I’m not welcome.”

“What?” Bobby’s expression crumples, and he pushes past Luke to step forward, toward Reggie. “Reg, no, I— of course you’re welcome here. You’re always—” He breaks off, glancing over his shoulder at Luke, who gestures encouragingly. Bobby sighs and turns back, squaring his shoulders. “Reggie, I need to apologize to you. Again.”

Reggie gapes, baffled. “Wha— I— Bobby, no, I should be apologizing to you!”

“Me? Why?”

“Cause I yelled at you.”

“Yeah, but you were right!” Bobby takes another step forward, close enough that he can reach out a hand to hover over Reggie’s, still gripping tight to his handlebars. “Reggie, I’m not good at asking for help. I’m not used to being seen as weak and not having that be a bad thing. But I’m done lying, and I’m done hiding things. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, Reg. And I do want to be your friend.” He takes a deep breath, shoots Luke another quick look, and then says softly, “I’m gonna start being better, Reggie. I promise. I’m so sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t trust you. Like I didn’t like you. I do. I really do.”

Reggie’s left speechless, and a little choked. He stands there for a few moments, his mouth working but no sound coming out, and stares at Luke and Bobby both, searching their faces for any hint of a sign from either of them that Bobby’s kidding or making fun of him.

Reggie knows Bobby doesn’t mean it— liking him — the way Reggie wants him to, the way Reggie likes him back. But it still puts a lump in his throat, to hear Bobby say it at all — Bobby who never admits to liking anyone!

Reggie doesn’t realize he’s started crying until he tastes salt on his lips and Luke bounds forward to pull Reggie into his arms. That seems to break the floodgates open, then; Reggie lets his bike fall to the concrete with a clatter, buries his face in Luke’s shirt, and sobs.

Luke doesn’t ask why he’s crying, or tell him to stop. He just holds Reggie tight, and when Reggie chokes out, “I was just so lonely, ” whispers, Shh, it’s okay, I know.

Somehow, they end up inside the studio on the folded-out couch. Luke gently pushes Reggie to lie down in the middle, and then immediately climbs in next to him, pulling a mountain of blankets over them both.

After a few moments of awkward hesitation, Bobby joins them on Reggie’s other side, lowering himself gently onto the mattress and curling up so that Reggie feels his warmth without them actually touching.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Reggie gasps out, his tears starting to slow.

“I wish you’d do it more often.” Bobby gives him a tiny smile and slowly slides his hand into Reggie’s. “You can’t get rid of me, man. I got you.”

--

Taglist: @whenweremarried @sunsethimb0s @pink-flame @penguin0613 @fighttoshine @sunsetcurvecuddles @teenagedirtbag-dot-jpeg @brightattheorpheum @queenmolina @jandthephantoms @lexilucacia @sapphossidechick @acnhaddict @shrimp-colours @sunset-bobby @lenacarstairspotterstewart @conversationaltreestump @burntchromas @molinapattersons @julieandthequeers @joyandthephantoms @it-tastes-like-lizard @jatpfs

[dexiao]

Business trip (m) | Xiao Dejun

Synopsis: Y/N and Dejun worked together for 8 years as book editors and never got along, but they’re forced to travel together to a small town and get stuck there because of a snowstorm.

Pairing: Xiao Dejun x female reader

Words: 4.9k

Genre: Book editors!au, light angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut

Warnings: safe sex, oral (female receiving), handjob (male receiving) 

A/N: I guess this took me about 3 weeks or more to write because I just ran out of inspiration, and then when I finally got inspiration again I was super busy with college stuff. About the plot, I think it showed a bit of dominance from Dejun, BUT if I decide to keep writing in this same universe/context, it’ll probably show a lot more of a sub!Xiaojun (I just get these vibes, idk?). Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Please let me know your opinion and/or if you found any mistakes!

This is a work of fiction. It does not portray the real personality of the member.

Books are probably my favorite thing on Earth besides my dog. I love the thought of living surrounded by books because it made me feel safe. Thus, it made just perfect to sense to work as a book editor.

In general, I felt satisfied about my job. I mostly did things I enjoy and with people I feel comfortable with – except by one other editor, Xiao Dejun. We were hired at the same time, 8 years ago, and never really got along.

At first, I tried my best to be nice and friendly to him – just like I acted with everyone else at the company – and he seemed to buy it for some time, until he changed overnight and started acting like a bitch. And by ‘acting like a bitch’ I don’t mean only not doing any favors I asked him. Actually, he wouldn’t do the bare minimum, like holding the elevator door or answering the telephone for me when I went to the restroom.

So you can imagine how co-working with him must be the least likeable thing about my job. That’s what made me angrier when our boss demanded that we traveled together.

“Don’t even look at me with those faces.” John, the boss, stated. “You both know Dejun is our best editor on thriller stories and Y/N is best with dealing with people. Especially in this case that the writer never published anything on his entire life.” I sighed and noticed Dejun getting ready to complain as Johnny made a brief pause. “I know you to are my best choice. I don’t give a shit if you hate each other because I trust both of you as professionals.”

That settled it.

And that’s why we traveled to Irisburg in the middle of the winter in the first place.

It took about 3 hours by car – I was driving – to get to the small town. The trip was silent most of the time, the only sounds being my Arctic Monkeys playlist, the car’s engine and eventually the rain pouring.

Dejun and I talked strictly talked about the reason of the trip and nothing else. In other words, we talked for about 15 minutes only, and avoided saying anything for the rest of the time.

The meeting lasted around 2 hours. Since the writer was a beginner, we had to explain everything about how the company works, his rights and duties. I’d hypocritical if I didn’t admit John was right. Dejun and I conducted the reunion very well.

The problem was that during the meeting, an unexpected snowstorm began. We were fully clothed, prepared to face the cold weather, but not to face the road block due to the snow. Needless to say we both were pissed off by the situation.

“Maybe we should call John.” Dejun suggested. “Tell him about the meeting and about this.”

“You’re right.” I said, already reaching for my phone.

“As always.”

I rolled my eyes at his words, pressing the call button and discovering that my phone was out of service.

“Oooh hell, no. This can’t be.” I widened my eyes at Dejun, who was staring at me with a confused expression. “Is your phone working?”

Dejun checked his phone.

“Fuck, no.”

I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair.

“Let’s find somewhere we can use a phone, then.”

“Alright, and keep calm.” Dejun said, the stress palpable in his tone.

“I am calm, I’m just frustrated.” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road and looking for somewhere we could stop at.

“I was telling that to myself.”

After a few minutes we stopped at a convenience store. I went straight to the restroom to wash my face and try to calm down. Though I tried not to show that to Dejun, I was really nervous about being stuck in this town.

A moment later, I exited the restroom and found Dejun talking to the cashier, seeming worried. As the cashier glanced at me, Dejun turned around to face me as well.

“It seems like we have no way out. All roads are blocked until the snow stops and the streets are cleaned. Even if we call Johnny, there’s nothing to do.” He stated.

“That is great, really. Is there even a hotel in this fucking town?”

“There is one three blocks from here.” The cashier said, obviously containing a laugh at my reaction.

“Thank you, Zack.” Dejun replied and walked towards me, lowering his voice and putting a hand on my arm. “Look, Y/N. I don’t like this situation either, but it could be worse. At least we won’t have to sleep in your car.”

Although what I interpreted from his sentence was more like ‘at least we won’t have to sleep together’, I had to admit Dejun was right again, so I exhaled heavily. So I gave up, feeling my shoulders shrink.

“Let me just grab some coffee and then we can go, alright?”

“Sure.” He smiled briefly. “Maybe we should eat too.”

So we ended up eating sandwiches and drinking coffee at the convenience store, complaining about the situation and grabbing some snacks for the night. We ran to the car, trying to protect from the wind and the snow the best way we could.

As we entered the hotel, I already noticed how modest it was. The building only had three floors, no elevator and the decoration was very simple. The receptionist was a man who seemed to be around 50 years old.

“Good evening, how may I help this beautiful couple?” He smiled. I looked at Dejun in amusement, just to see his face becoming red.

“Actually we’re not a couple.” I responded, smiling fondly. Dejun waited behind me. “We’d like two single rooms.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. But we only have one room left and only has a double bed.” I felt my expression change at his words.

“Isn’t there a couch or a spare mattress?” Dejun asked, coming closer to the table.

“There isn’t, I’m sorry.” The man answered, visibly apologetic.

“It’s ok. You can have the room, I’ll sleep on the car. Just let me take a shower.” I suggested.

Dejun nodded and the man gave us the key to room n. 23.

Dejun and I climbed up the stairs to room n. 23 in silence.

I unlocked the door and we both stepped in, taking a good glance at the room.

It wasn’t that bad. The bed had lilac sheets. There were some flyers, a lamp and a vase with artificial peonies on top of the nightstands on both sides of the bed. There was a desk and a chair close to the window, and an open wardrobe with blankets and towels.

“Do you want to shower first? I don’t mind” He asked, walking towards a nightstand to look at the flyers.

“Alright.”

I grabbed a clean towel and threw it over my right shoulder, heading to the bathroom. When I opened the door, I realized another issue.

“Actually…” I turned to Dejun, who mindfully read something. “I just realized I don’t have clean clothes to put on.”

He furrowed his eyebrows and mouth.

“Crap, me neither.”

I dropped the towel on the chair and closed the bathroom door again, sighing.

“Maybe we should ask the receptionist if there’s a Target or something nearby.” I suggested, already grabbing my purse and walking out of the room. Dejun followed me.

It turned out that there’s wasn’t a Target nor anything nearby. We ended up back to the convenience store from before. And there weren’t many options on what to buy.

It was pretty compelling to browse for clothes with someone I am not close at all. Knowing each other and working together for years never made that.

Therefore, I left the store with new panties, sweatpants and a hairbrush. Dejun also bought underwear and sweatpants (matching colors with mine since there were only gray pants on sale), along with razor blades.

Back in the hotel, Dejun started laughing as we entered the room. So I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You gotta admit, Y/N. Even though we don’t get along, we’ll have a lot of stories to tell from this event.”

I let out a breathy laugh and went to the shower.

As the hot water poured on my body, I tried to keep my mind from becoming paranoid. Everything would be alright. I would sleep in the car, get up by the sunrise, drink coffee and read my book at the convenience store until the snow melted, and by tomorrow noon we would be back home.

Out of the shower, I dressed up and blow dried my hair as quick as possible. When I left the bathroom, Dejun stood by the window, with the towel hanging on this neck.

Our eyes met and he went straight to the bathroom after realizing it was his turn, but stopped before closing the door and faced me again.

“What do you think about having dinner here? It’s getting late and I doubt there’s any place we can go by now. Besides, I took a peek at the menu and it seems pretty decent.”

“Can I think about it while you shower?” I asked, pondering the pros and cons of just eating the snacks I bought previously.

“Sure.” He said and closed the door.

I laid in the bed and reached for the menu flyer from the nightstand.

I opened my eyes and frowned, not remembering where I was for a moment. I had been sleeping for who knows how much time. Dejun was at the door, talking to someone. I sat on the bed and rubbed my eyes, hearing him shut the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” He stated, apologetic. He held a tray with pizza and coke. Also, Dejun was wearing glasses, which he never did at the company. And he looked pretty good like that. In sweatpants, glasses, hair still a little wet. A pretty domestic sight to look at.

“It’s okay, I’m sorry for sleeping too.” I smiled, feeling shy.

“Anyway, since you were asleep I ordered pizza for us.” He motioned his head towards the table where he left the tray.

On top of the chair in front of the table laid a wet towel, that I supposed was Xiao’s since I left mine next to me on the bed.

Then I realized that it remained untouched. It was almost one hour and forty minutes since Dejun entered the shower, so he must have been sitting on that chair all of this time.

That made me feel even more ashamed of falling asleep.

“Y/N, is everything ok?” He asked, sitting on the chair.

“Oh, sure! Just let me wash my face before we eat ‘cause I’m still half asleep.” I responded, grabbing the towel next to me and heading to the bathroom, hearing Xiao laugh.

I hung the towel on the shower stall and threw the cold water on my face, feeling more awake instantly.

As I left the bathroom, Dejun had already opened the pizza box and brought it to the bed, the glasses of coke on one of the nightstands.

He zapped mindlessly through the TV channels, stopping in a Sandra Bullock movie.

We ate sitting on the bed, legs crossed like kids.

Grabbing my second slice of pizza, I decided to not let the meal be silent as most of the day had been.

“You know, Dejun, this situation sucks. But I have to admit that I underestimated you. I am enjoying being with you.” I said, looking at the pizza before taking a bite. Xiao raised one eyebrow at my words.

“You say this but you literally slept like 90% of the time we spent here.” He replied, teasingly. I rolled my eyes and he stretched his arm to grab the glasses of coke, handing me one.

I took a sip immediately, but Xiao put his glasses on top of his head like a tiara before drinking, leaving me with a confused expression. Realizing that I glanced at him, he explained.

“It sprinkles on the lenses if I drink anything sparkling with glasses on.”

“Oh, I see.” I nodded. “I never saw you using glasses at the company.”

“I don’t. I wear contact lenses most of the time.”

“Really? But you look good in glasses.”

Dejun’s surprised face and laugh made me realize what I just said, feeling my face become red and looking down. Cursing mentally, deciding it was best to keep the silence that reigned previously starting from now.

“Well, thank you, Y/N.” He said, still giggling a little. “You’re not bad yourself.”

After one more slice of pizza, I was full. Dejun was still eating the second slice, a lot slower than me.

“I guess it’s time to go now.” I spoke, getting up from the bed and going to pick up my stuff.

Xiao grabbed my arm and I looked at him in a jolt, my eyes meeting his brown ones.

“Already?”

My eyes shifted from his face to his hand on my arm before I could think of an answer, and he let go of the grip visibly more shy.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…” He began, scratching the back of his neck. “… you seemed so tired, you drove a lot and will have to drive again tomorrow. The car isn’t a proper place to rest.”

I stood static for a few seconds.

“Are you sure? We’d have to share the bed.” I said, timidly.

“Yeah, we’re both adults. Besides, you already said you find me attractive, so I suppose it’s not a problem to you.”

I rolled my eyes and went back to picking up my things, pissed at his comment.

“You’re so full of yourself.” I mumbled.

“For fucks sake, do you know what a joke is, Y/N?” He said exasperatedly.

“Apparently I’m the joke to you.”

Xiao grunted and though I wasn’t looking at him, I could imagine him rolling his eyes just as I did before. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, resting elbows on his knees.

“You’re such a drama queen sometimes! You can’t even stand to read a few words without falling asleep, how well rested do you think you will be tomorrow after sleeping in a car in this fucking freezing weather?”

“So what the hell do you want me to do?” I practically yelled, closing my eyes, taking a deep breath and sitting on the chair before looking at him again.  

He didn’t answer but kept staring at me, and I calmed down after a while of silence. The tension was palpable in the air.

Momentarily, I let my eyes drop to Dejun’s mouth.

Realizing my stare, Dejun licked his lips and I opened mine involuntarily before searching for his eyes. Dejun brought his face closer to mine and spoke in a low, soft tone.

“I want you to kiss me.”

He slowly shifted his gaze to my lips and brushed softly the back of his left hand against my right cheek. I breathed heavily, inhaling his citric perfume, before leaning closer to him, blank minded and only feeling a sudden need to lick his inviting lips.

I rested my left hand on his thigh to support myself, closing my eyes as I felt our lips touch.

Dejun’s mouth was half open and I could sense the warmth and humidity of his tongue, making me crave for contact. I sighed and slipped the tip of my tongue to touch his lips, feeling myself salivate at the sensation. Dejun lodged one his hands close to my nape and the other on my waist, and I felt my heart rate increase due to the way he held me tighter.

I gasped as Xiao’s tongue touched mine and deepened the kiss. It was wet and slow, allowing us to savor each other’s mouth. My hands reached for his hair, pulling it lightly so he would realize that I was enjoying it. After a few moments, I broke the kiss and moved back a little, opening my eyes and gazing at his face.

His cheeks had a light blush and lips were flushed as well, lust showing in his eyes wide open. The most beautiful I’ve ever seen Dejun be.

“Is this what you wanted?” I whispered.

“That’s not even close to what I wanted, Y/N.” Xiao responded, elevating his tone. I frowned, looking down and distancing myself more at his words, unable to avoid feeling insufficient, as I couldn’t satisfy his wish. Both his hands cupped my face, forcing me to look at him again. “I want to kiss you so much that your body will get tender. I want to kiss every inch of your skin until you melt under my lips, I want to hear you whine because of my touches. I want you to wrap your hands around my neck and tell me how you never felt so good.”

Dejun’s gaze fell on my lips again, as if asking for permission accomplish his cravings, so I closed my eyes in a silent consent.

The next thing I felt was his lips crashing on mine again, in a rougher and more intense kiss then before. His hands grabbed my thighs, motioning me to go onto his lap. I got up and kneeled on the bed, one leg on each side of him, lowering my body to position on top of his hip. By this time, Xiao’s hands traveled up to my waist to guide me.

However, he didn’t mean for me to be on top of him, since he turned us both around, making me lay on the bed and positioning his body in the middle of my legs. His mouth descended to my jaw and neck, leaving a hot trail of open mouthed kisses and licks. Hands traveled from my waist to my thighs, squeezing the flesh. I could feel my panties becoming damp, curling my toes in desire.

“And you know what else I want, Y/N?” He asked, pressing his bulge against my pelvis, making groan at the feeling. I shook my head in denial as he kept grinding on my body. “I want to eat you out every fucking day at the office. I want your sighs to be because of me and not anything else. You look so pretty all focused on work, makes me insane thinking on how many ways I could tease you to distraction.”

“Fuck, Dejun.” I moaned, pressing his head closer to my neck and forcing my torso along his slightly toned body, one of my hands entering under the collar of his t-shirt. Dejun lightly bit my neck before getting away, removing his jacket. I removed my hand from his skin and ran it through his upper body, feeling his muscles become stiff under my touch.

He leaned and pressed a kiss on my stomach, then started to lift up my blouse. I rose my body in order to help, head standing close to Xiao’s. As he finished taking my top off, Xiao went in for another kiss, hands moving to my chest and squeezing my breasts beneath the bra.

I tugged at his t-shirt, attempting to take it off. Dejun undressed the piece of cloth and turned around, dropping it behind his body.

It was beautiful to see. Dejun’s now obvious erection pointed through his sweatpants. His light torso muscles contracted by turning around. When he faced me again, I couldn’t help but pull him closer, embracing his waist with my legs and his neck with my arms, craving for the sensation of his skin upon mine. Xiao started rolling his hips against my pelvis, so I kissed his neck to block the noises from coming out of my mouth. I could feel the outline of his member teasing me over the clothes.

His hands ran by the sides of my body and teased the waistband of my pants. He squeezed my thighs and butt, exposing his desire to take the piece off by the way he massaged the flesh from top to bottom.

I removed my legs from around him and positioned each foot on the bed, keeping knees flexed.

“Take these off.” I whispered.

Xiao raised his body a little, allowing me to lift my hips and help him undress me. He slid the piece along my legs, moving back. Only in bra and panties I completely laid down again. Dejun moved his head back until right above my right knee, sticking out his tongue and licking the inner part of my leg until reaching my underwear. The sensation of his hot and humid tongue close to my center made me involuntarily contract my abdomen in anticipation.

“Can I take these off to?” He asked, looking at me again while rushing his index finger on the edge of the cloth.

“Hm-hmm.” I nodded, preparing to lift my hips again.

He grabbed each side of the panties and slid it off at once, coming back licking the inner part of my left leg as he did to the right. One of his hands reached from under my thigh and pressed right under my bellybutton to keep me still, in a way that my leg rested on his shoulder.

I closed my eyes as I felt his breath hit my pussy, in expectation of contact. But it didn’t come.

I looked at Xiao’s amused expression between my legs. He held a devilish smile looking back at me.

“Can I?” He asked, pressing a kiss to my left inner thigh, so close to my core I could barely notice the difference.

“Please, Dejun-”

His tongue finally met my clit in soft circular and licking motions, and I felt a wave of warmth through my body, letting out a subtle moan. His free hand moved to my entrance, teasing.

“I wish I could have you like this every day.” He mumbled, distancing his head a bit to massage my clit with his fingers. His chin and lips glowed from my wetness. He licked his lips and moved his fingers down to my entrance again and penetrating me with his middle finger. We both bit our lips at the same time, and I closed my eyes as he started trusting his finger in and out. After a few trusts I felt an emptiness and attempted opening my eyes again, but stopping from being overwhelmed with the pleasure of Dejun sliding two fingers in and returning his mouth to my clit

His fingers curled against my walls and his mouth was now much more feral the before. He licked and sucked firmly at the spot, giving me continuous delight. My legs started to contract from the sensation, toes curled as I opened my eyes to watch Dejun eating me out.

Xiao’s eyes were both open and staring directly at my face, making me twitch and unleash a slow and heavy moan. I supported myself on one elbow and the other hand moved to grab Dejun’s hair. I could feel my eyebrows furrow against my will every time he pressed his mouth a little harder against me.

By the grab on his hair I pushed myself upon his face and rolled my hips. Dejun was clearly surprised, raising eyebrows and letting out a hum on my skin, enhancing the pleasure with the vibration from his voice. As he tried to repeat the act, I pushed him away by the forehead. His expression changed to confusion.

“I don’t want to come yet.” I explained, still gasping.

Dejun nodded and bent to kiss my lips, tasting saltier than before. I grabbed his jaw, willing to feel with my hand the arousal that covered his face, making it slippery. He supported his body with his arms by the sides of my head, pressing his erection against my dripping pussy.

“Dejun?” I whispered, breaking the kiss.

“Hmm?”

“Can I ride your cock?”

Dejun gasped at my question, immediately rolling to the side and pulling me on top of him. His back rested against the headboard and his arms circled my body, giving licks and kisses on my neck and around my collarbones. I felt his hands unclasp the bra before his kisses moved to my naked breasts. At first he just softly licked around the left nipple, circling it with his tongue, then tried his best to fit all he could from the boob inside his mouth, still moving his tongue against the skin.

At the same time, my nails scratched his back and nape, and I rolled my hips on top of his rock hard bulge.

Dejun’s hands fell to my butt, squeezing each side and pressing my body down in an attempt to guide my movements. With my right hand, as he distanced a little in order to regain his breath, I tugged at his waistband. All I could think of was Dejun’s cock filling me up, but the clothes in the way and his grip weren’t helping.

Xiao understood what I wanted and released my hips, so I lifted myself and he pulled both pants and underwear until the middle of his thighs. His gray pants had a large wet stain, and as he took it off his dick jumped up, hitting his abdomen. I licked my lips at the thought of how helpless he looked.

“Do you have a condom?” I asked. He nodded and pointed at the wallet on top of the table. I stood up to reach for it and threw it to Xiao, who urgently caught the small package inside.

Back on top of him, I took the condom off his hands. However, before sliding it along his shaft, I grabbed it by the base and pumped a couple of times, anxious to touch Xiao as closely as he touched me. He closed his eyes and groaned, before staring at me again almost angrily.

I slid the condom down his cock and positioned it on my entrance, trying to smear it with my arousal. As I sank down, we both cursed under our breaths. I closed my eyes for a while as I adjusted to his size. When I opened them again, Dejun’s gaze laid on my face, his hands just resting on my thighs.

I leaned to lick his lips and hold his shoulders, but Xiao only received my tongue inside his mouth and mindlessly sucked at it. I moaned loudly and began moving on his cock, feeling his grip tighten on my legs.

Dejun also started trusting into me in small movements, making me groan once again and break the kiss. He held my gaze at his eyes, so dark and full of desire, the effort causing him to contract his forehead. His lips were pink and plump, I couldn’t avoid the thought of him sucking my fingers.

As this image filled my head, I felt myself clench around his member. Xiao moaned loud and beautifully, leaning in an attempt to kiss me again. Never mind how bad I wanted to feel those lips on mine, I interrupted him with hand on his chest.

“I’m not gonna kiss you anymore. I want to hear those beautiful moans.” I explained, leaning to kiss his neck right under his left ear before even seeing his reaction, causing another moan, now lower, to come out his mouth.

After a few more moments, my legs started to feel tired, the I leaned back to have a bit of release on my thigh muscles. At my movement, Dejun, who had more space to move, began trusting deeper and I could perfectly sense his dick coming in and out of me, coated with my juices.

My abdomen started contracting and I knew my climax had its way.

“Fuck, Dejun, I’m close.” I warned, gasping.

He moved one hand to my clit, massaging it with his thumb in circular movements. Added to his hip moves, it was enough to trigger my orgasm. I clenched and felt my whole body contract and tremble on top of him, then feeling Xiao reach his on high as his cock pulsated inside of me.

I let out a breathy laugh while looking at Xiao’s fucked out face, messy hair and all sweaty. Anyway, I lifted my body to slip out of him and pressed a kiss on his lips, cupping his face in my hands.

“Maybe sleeping here isn’t such a bad idea after all.” I chuckled. Dejun opened a bright smile, putting his arms on my waist.

“You should’ve know I was right.” He joked, making me playfully roll my eyes.

“But we’re gonna need another shower anyway.” I said, laying by his side in contradiction to my words.

We kept staring at each other as our bodies cooled down and Dejun became soft, so he stopped patting my hair and went for a shower. As he was entering the bathroom, I called him.

“Dejun?”

“Yes?” He turned his face to me.

“With this tongue of yours, I’ll let you eat me out at the office whenever you want.” I smiled. Dejun laughed and shook his head before closing the door.

[legionofpotatoes]

black widow thonks with spoilers under the cut. because I'm a marvel retrospective blog now I guess

(being in cinemas again is exciting. leave me alone)

A Movie. fits right into that mcu sweet spot of better than I feared, worse than I hoped

better because the first half does seemingly functional dramatic setups, doesn't shy away from quiet moments of interiority, tries to establish a bespoke narrative to operate in, has a weird enough opening that you can chalk up to it being "good" until we see how it's all addressed later on

worse cause second half is an mcu's greatest hits bonanza with clunky payoffs and reverse engineered catharsis shoehorning emotional development into some sort of avengers-need-me endpoint like it's a fridge being pushed into a carry-on suitcase with "franchise continuity" written on it

yelena/florence absolutely delightful. if she's taking over the character that could be nice! I think that girl has very pretty eyes. her acting/humor/accent was very good and really the only functional relationship with natasha in this entire ass movie

adjacent thought: accents overall were good, but some "major" beats were delivered in straight-up russian and. eurgh. horrible pronunciation. weird how this stuff doesnt get vetted on big boy hollywood sets. meanwhile they have one actual russian actor and they're mute the whole time. baller

re: clunky payoffs. major dramatic beat in the end is "sorry I left you, sister" despite the opening showing us the exact opposite. natasha fiercely protecting her from shit dad. whereas the actual defection from the red room is explained away in words and pieces across the movie. "show don't tell" isn't a tired platitude, and would help a LOT here if we saw that moment fit in the dramatic coherence of their past relationship chronologically. feels trivial but catharsis really is just setups and payoffs and making them CLEAR to follow. feel confident complaining about this more than anything else tbh

lots of other examples but this one felt easiest to "get right" in existing framework. other stuff like relationship with rest of the widows/dreykov/his daughter all harder to wrap my head around despite feeling short-changed overall. and like I can't claim to be able to doctor movie scripts or anything

but the parents! what the fuck! way to waste david harbour and rachel weisz! how is his shitty psychology not interrogated/prodded in any way. I did nothing wrong because my daughters grew up into effective brainwashed killers. makes them sad when I say that for some reason. here's a lil song I remember from back when I was lying to you about everything. feel better and move forward please, need to brag more about being cool

mom was overall better handled but the double-triple-quadruple turncoating at the end with constant callbacks and timeline cuts let all the air out of any possible dramatic payoff. functionally speaking it all literally happened in that closet while they were swapping outfits I guess? and we see bits and pieces of it for the sake of plot and not emotion? Weird Choice. but that's just me. idk

you can really tell the exact moment an mcu script hits "fuck it" and throws hands in air as nonsense plot device meter hits peak readings. aggression cancelling man-pheromones was that moment for me. literally what the fuck lmao. I guess the writers room felt strongly about it cause it fits as a wacko metaphor? for a dude manipulating and abusing women? okay. you know. good choice in an espionage thriller. I think it's fucking stupid still! and at the very LEAST warranted some sort of setup/foreshadowing to be less jarring

I get this entirely unjustifiable schadenfreude when fan favorite characters are fucked with. I imagined angry nerds frothing at the mouth about taskmaster and it brought me so much joy. I am truly not gloating I know this is a bad feeling to have. it's evil and judgmental and says more about me than anyone else.

gotta hand it a lil bit to the nerds though, having the character at least be able to speak and articulate motives/relation to natasha/at least express interiority through physical moments would be nice (good nearby example: winter soldier in cap 2). set up your mystery character reveals ya ding dongs. and be a bit heavyhanded about them if needed I promise it's okay. but when did drama and story matter more than plot to marvel? I generally found taskmaster a great overall story beat on paper but it's all the clunky drama around them that failed the execution. more context around That Moment in budapest, a few insert shots of physical micro expressions, actual dialogue during the reveal, idk. probably not as easy to improve this and I'm being a bit flippant but it really does look good on paper to me but then it all feeling empty and pointless by the end is not something I can deny

the incredibly hot dude natasha keeps around for Spy Stuff Procurement. whose name I already forgot. would be nice to give him a Moment, yannow. he literally IS a plot device with no dramatic function around him. everything he did/motivated in the plot could easily be written into nat's pov to save runtime. so why include him at all? it's not like big corporations tend to chase after tokenism in their tentpole films right fellas

so. natasha. the actual titular person in the middle of all this. I can be a bit high brow with my semiotic dissection of these potato salad movies but the fact that your main hero should.. like. change somehow. by the end of a movie. isn't that the whole point of storytelling? flawed personhood goes through crucible of personal challenge and achieves meaningful change. I feel like drama needs to really be blasted at me full-force, because maybe I missed it but did natasha change?

her big mission statement in the end is something like. "turns out I have two families, time to fix the other one". but a) the current one is still fucked up (but okay, it's really about yelena, I'll give it a pass), and b) sort of implies that THIS movie is what spurred her to stop being on the run alone and decide to instead be on the run with steve. which is. a baffling emotional result because why couldn't she do it earlier. we need to know these reasons to make any of this mumbo jumbo work. why was she not with steve in the beginning? "I'm better off alone" throwaway lines probably, yeah. I don't remember. okay why then? interrogate her self-isolation motives a bit more? tie them somehow in her catharsis with yelena? fucking. setups and payoffs. riddle your films with them and make them CLEAR and I PROMISE it's so much more satisfying. I mean for me it is. if you got anything out of her declaration in the end, in all honesty, power to ya

...no sorry I can't get over the attack canceling man pheromones it's so fucking stupid lmao

[kinetic-elaboration]

September 17: 3x07 Day of the Dove

I am incredibly discombobulated today—usual weekend nocturnal shenanigans I guess! Anyway it’s somehow midnight. Gonna try to write up these note on the Classic episode The Day of the Dove in as efficient a manner as possible.

Hmm, a planet with wavy pink Fraggle plants. I like it already.

But where is Spock? Very suspicious.

I really appreciate Kirk giving a little speech to set up the overall question/issue for us. (I know he does this all the time with the Captain’s logs but this is out loud and so… more obviously expository.)

Oh no, it’s our old friends…the Klingons.

I will admit that this ONE TIME, the Klingon is being reasonable. Like, it is reasonable to think that Kirk and the Enterprise attacked his ship, given that his hip WAS attacked, and who else would it be?

Three years of peace between the Klingons and the Federation? That is inclusive of the show so all this tension must technically be “peace” and also implies there was something more like a direct war going on, like, right before Kirk got the captaincy.

Zoolander voice: What is this, a colony of the INVISIBLE?

“We have no devil. But we understand the habits of yours.”

No takers? No takers on the torture? No volunteers to be mercilessly tortured by the Klingons?

Star Trek Beyond could have had Kirk and Chekov bond over being brothers! I mean, to other people.

They’ll kill 100 hostages at the first sign of treachery. He does know there are only 400-some people on the ship right? Maybe you should pace yourself, Kang.

Kirk’s so badass he needs MULTIPLE guns trained on him just to use the phone.

Oh-ho secret message to Spock. Which version of the iPhone will be capable of doing THAT?

The Klingons are “suspended in transit” is an awfully nice way of saying they’re just dematerialized atoms in space. Philosophy major and/or Bones nightmare fuel.

How did Kang not see this coming, by the way? Like, he just says “I’m taking your ship now, me and my 6 men versus your 400-some men, and I’ll do this by simply declaring it to be so. Now let’s beam up to your ship, where I’ll be greatly outnumbered, and there are armed security guards all around me.” Guess he’s been reading The Secret!

WIFE AND SCIENCE OFFICER

Aka the most important part of this whole episode.

Kirk’s face is very ?????? You can have both????

It’s legitimately not even important for her to be the science officer tbqh. Like that is so gratuitous. That’s just in there to drive me insane.

"We're prisoners, somehow, after I demanded to come on the ship, assuming they'd just give it to me without any kind of fight. How DID this happen?”

Federation death camps lol—someone’s been watching Fox News.

I do kind of wonder… is this an actual rumor that goes around the Klingon homeworld or is it something that the alien entity put in her head specifically to make her angrier right now? I mean it really could be either.

I also appreciate this episode for being pretty much the only one to actually attempt to give the Klingons a reason for being as they are. The Romulans… maybe aren’t well-described, but they do have a sort of regalness to them, appropriate for being related to Vulcans, and you can kind of imagine that they are the way they are because they’re Vulcans without the intense self-control. Plus they’re literally only in 2 TOS eps and in the second, the Federation are the aggressors. But the Klingons show up a half-dozen times only to be depicted each time as just like Cartoonishly Bad, aggressive, violent, and selfish for basically no reason. And I mean, some people really are!! But TOS has so much nuance in other places, that it always seemed a little disappointing to me that the Klingons are really just like ‘well we’re just bad and we hate everyone and we really like killing I guess.” At least in this ep there’s a little more added to that: that there is poverty on their world, that they feel aggrieved, that they feel unprotected, that taking and conquering is how they look after themselves…

I think that’s later in the episode though.

He’s detaining them in the LOUNGE lol. With their favorite dishes available to them to eat. Absolutely barbarous conditions.

I can’t believe Chekov is hanging in the elevator with the cool kids. Like, one of these things really isn’t like the others.

Kang is officially sure of himself for someone currently imprisoned in the lounge, that most fearsome of Federation death camps.

Hmm, could the glittery light alien have taken over??

You know what, that's a lot of tasks for Johnson to do all by himself: search the whole ship, fix the engines, and free 400 people.

Sulu would love this: everyone gets a sword!!

“Bridge. I gotta show this to Sulu immediately.”

Klingons have maintained a dueling tradition. That’s interesting. Finally some characterization going on.

Spock is really living up to his logical nature today. Everyone else has gone off the emotional deep end and he’s like “have you considered this completely rational explanation that accounts for the actual, observed facts??”

Whoops Chekov is actually an only child. Scratch that previous Beyond headcanon. (Interesting that his dead brother does really resemble Sam though—killed on a research colony??)

Love that Sulu knows that about him though.

Oh, that’s a pretty schematic picture of the Enterprise. I want that on a t-shirt.

Lol the pan out to the armory, now filled with… swords!!

Do ALL of these men have a fetish for swords? Sulu and fencing, Spock displaying swords in his quarters, and Kirk in his San Francisco apartment, and Scotty salivating over this Scottish blade.

“Klingon units.”

Finally Sulu gets his sword! It’s what he deserves.

Love that the shiny light alien also has a fetish for swords.

Oh no, it’s our old adversary, an alien life force.

What is the alien’s purpose? Um, I’m pretty sure its purpose is to start shit.

“An appropriate choice of terms, Captain.” I don’t even remember what this is referring to but I think it’s pretty clear that Spock is enjoying himself during a crisis again.

Bones, being so dramatic. Were there atrocities? He’s talking about the Klingons as if they were literally hacking off limbs—it’s a few stab wounds here and there, chill.

Oooh, time to behave like military men—strong words. (But I thought it wasn’t the military?? @ S**** P****) (This might not even be my best argument, given the context of this episode, but I’m sticking with it.)

This is like a giant game of capture the flag.

AU that’s just about the Enterprise crew playing capture the flag with the Klingons.

Sulu in the background standing guard with his sword

Damn, turning on Spock with the slurs now!!

Spock was absolutely ready to kill him. Like he would 100% have taken him out with a blow to the head. And he’d been doing such a good job of not feeling the alien’s effects so far! Admittedly, that was a strong provocation though.

Honestly, I really like this scene. It’s uncomfortable and tense and you can really see how the alien is bringing out the worst possible influences of their respective races. And I liked how Spock was definitely full on pre-Reform Vulcan for a minute there. It was a more effective portrayal of what that might have looked like than All Our Yesterdays tbqh.

A result of… stress?

Kirk got himself out of it first. He’s so strong. He knows himself so well, he cannot be outsmarted by any alien.

“We’ve been taught to think in terms other than war.”

“The alien brings out the worst of us—patriotic drumbeating…even race hatred.”

He’s so sad; he can’t imagine thinking like that about Spock :(

Sulu in a Jeffries tube! A man of many talents. It’s okay bb, take credit for turning on the lights.

The alien must have been getting bored. The Klingons must have been doing too well, and the playing field needs to be leveled for maximum shit-stirring.

“Let’s find that alien.” That’s how I ALWAYS feel.

Oh, Kang, you’re so close—“What power supports our battle but thwarts our victory.” So, so close to getting it.

ALIEN DETECTED.

Spock takes his sword, of course.

“Jim.” Obligatory Jim moments hit differently when they’re not so obligatory.

“Jim—stop hitting my protégé. And put that sword down.”

Kirk looks so sad, picking Chekov up to carry him bridal style.

Also in addition to ‘race hatred’ I think we need to add ‘rape-y tendances’ to the bad stuff that the alien is inspiring here.

“A brief surge of racial bigotry. Most distasteful.” Spock winning for understatement of the year.

They're assuming the alien is trying to test out their relative powers but I think it just wants entertainment. I mean, doesn’t it look like a naughty little thing?

Mara’s outfit is… little shorts? Interesting. Usually not my style but she makes it work.

Spock doesn’t even look at Johnson as he falls lol. Another one bites the dust.

“It exists on the hate of others.”

What does this remind me of? Oh, the Vast of Night and the whole “aliens made us do every bad thing ever” conspiracy theory. At least this one makes more sense, in part because it is not quite so overwhelmingly broad!

All hostile attitudes must be eliminated, he says, and there's Mara right behind Kirk giving him a death stare lol.

Kang is so obviously posing. Google Earth, always taking pictures.

Only a few minutes before drifting forever in space becomes inevitable? Good thing Kirk works well under pressure.

“Well… do whatever you can, Scotty. You know the drill.” Doesn’t even bother giving real directions anymore. We’ve been in this scenario before.

“So we drift in space, with only hatred and bloodshed aboard.”

And the 392 people below just get to…live in Enterprise prison, I guess.

Star date: Armageddon. So dramatic!

I’m not even making that up; that’s an actual quote. Can you imagine being an Admiral listening to this?

“Stop the war now.” An actual line, really aired on television.

Spock wants to threaten the wife lol. That's the old pre-Reform Vulcan seeping through. Surak who?

Damn, Kang is cold. “Eh, she gets the concept of being killed in battle.” They’re gonna need marriage counseling after this.

“There is another way. Mutual trust and help.” Yes that’s my hero!!

“No one can guarantee the actions of another.” Can’t remember the context of this entirely anymore, but great line.

The entity is loving this—multi-person choreographed sword fight!!

"Those who hate and fight must stop themselves. otherwise it is not stopped.” Another baller line. Spock has a lot of deep thoughts today. And so does Kirk. And Kang.

Kirk tries to reason with the alien. Nice try.

“Shoo. Shoo, alien. Off the ship, go away.”

Omg that last moment—Kang slapping Kirk’s back way too hard, Spock’s completely ridiculous wide-eyed expression when he does, like some sort of combo of amusement and confusion, and then Sulu just passing on by in the background….

Then the alien just yeets itself into space. And that’s the end!

Always feels weird when there’s no wrap up on the bridge.

Also, what are they going to do with the Klingons? They have no ship. They really did come out of this a lot worse than Kirk and co. No ship, huge casualties—and no one to blame even, but the alien.

I feel like the alien messed up a little in killing so many Klingons. Like, it could have accomplished its purpose, angering the Klingons and turning them on Kirk, by attacking the ship a little less violently—you know they’d react to 5 deaths pretty much the same as 400, and then there would be many more people to fight forever and produce that sweet sweet anger!

Maybe the alien’s powers aren’t strong enough to influence 800 people though. Also it wants equal forces and 800 people wouldn’t fit on the Enterprise, one assumes. So it still makes sense.

That was, of course, an excellent episode. 100% agree with is classic status, even though the main things I remembered going in were the wife + science officer bit, and everyone laughing at the end in a really forced, fake way, in order to make the alien go away.

I thought the Klingons were a lot better/more interesting today than usual. First, I think Kang is a better character, or a better actor maybe, than the others; he has a certain way about him that is… more watchable, more sympathetic. And he’s always saying these really dramatic things that make it seem likely he writes patriotic Klingon war poetry in his off time. Also, including his wife made them seem more… not human obviously, but normal. Not just cardboard cut-out villains. And of course the actual lightly specific motivations I earlier mentioned helped too.

Also, the plotting was very good: it built up slowly but surely over time, so at first the alien’s influence wasn’t that obvious, and then it became more so, and then it became horrifically obvious and extreme. And then you had to re-evaluate earlier moments: was that the alien changing facts in their heads, or a real part of the animosity between humans and Klingons? And it wasn’t always clear, which I appreciated. The tension when the people were at their worst wasn’t overdone, like in that moment with Scotty, Spock, and Kirk—or even in Chekov’s assault on Mara, tbh. The various strategies of the different sides were very entertaining too; there was never a dull moment, and they fit in a lot of straight-up actions and twists into 50 minutes.

The possible threat was truly terrifying, also: stuck in a space ship, forever, unable to die, feeling the worst possible emotions all the time, besieged, angered, despairing, fighting a war that can’t be won, being injured and suffering only to recover and fight again, and it never stops… A perfect nightmare mixture of insanity and violence and pain. And the alien, in encouraging hatred and anger, doesn’t discriminate between sides: they turn on each other just as much as on the Klingons, breeding paranoia and infighting. For eternity.

The episode also felt much more strongly anti-war than I remember tbh. Like it was not subtle. Kirk literally says “stop the war” in so many words. He has a part in his speech where he talks about the possibility of other aliens out there, encouraging other wars. And while I do think “maybe the aliens are making us do it” is a cop out explanation, or would be if it were real, the scenario gave the show a lot of room to say, like, pretty ballsy things: to include “patriotic drum beating” along with “race hatred” in a list of corrupting feelings they were experiencing; to show how the same instincts that lead to warring also lead to sexual assault and the aforementioned ‘race hatred;” to reveal the true horror of an endless war by making the participants unkillable and sticking them in a singular space ship in the middle of nowhere; to imply that the combatants of war gain nothing from it, but outside or third-party entities will pull strings of their own design to profit from the conflict as long as possible; even to make an impassioned plea to camera to stop the endlessness of the conflict. Like I can’t even totally unpack this but it is a lot!

Finally, it was also a great Kirk episode, which of course is my most important factor. He’s smart; he’s strong; he’s so sure of himself and his values that he cannot be manipulated to mindless hatred, he represents the values of the Federation, and the show itself; he treats even his enemies with basic respect and humanity; and ultimately, he saves the day.

Okay I was not efficient in writing this up at all! It is very late!!

[spaceskam]

our fainted thrill carries on (7/13)

ao3

Michael tried to let it go, but there was one mystery that he couldn’t.

“Coffee?” Alex asked, leaning over the back of the couch to hand him a mug. Michael accepted it willingly, not looking over at him if only because he tended to get sidetracked every time he did. “Do you have work today?”

“No,” Michael said, “Got Sanders to give me the day off because I’m onto something.” 

He typed a bit more into Alex’s high-tech computer, searching through government databases that he really shouldn’t have access to as a way to find the social security number of that boy that hung around his mom in that barn in 1948. He’d figured that if he could locate his social security number, he could figure out where he was even if he’d changed his name.

“What are you gonna do if you find him?” Alex asked softly, his breath a little too close to Michael’s ear as he peered over his shoulder. Michael froze for a moment, but he quickly shook it off and continued to scroll through the list of people named Walt who was born in the late 30s in Roswell, New Mexico. It was easier said than done.

“Track him down, go talk to him.”

“He’s what, 80? What if he doesn’t remember?”

“Then I bring Isobel and we make him remember whether he wants to or not,” Michael said. Alex grabbed his jaw firmly, forcing him to look at him. 

He was close, eyes dark and serious for the first time in weeks. They’d been doing good. It was a week after Christmas, Alex had been helping both Project Shepard and Liz, and Michael had been doing his best to make progress in all facets. They slept in the same bed and they cuddled and they told each other they loved each other. Things were nice and easy. But Alex had a look on his face that was not at all nice and easy.

“No, you will not,” Alex said, “You’ll respect his boundaries. That’s an invasion of privacy and that takes away someone’s agency, do you understand me?” 

“But I want‒”

“I know you want answers, Michael, but that’s not the way to do it. That makes you the villain,” Alex said. Michael stared right back. He wanted to explain to Alex why it was so important to him, but, then again, he probably understood that well enough. Which made it all that more frustrating. “You are not the villain, are you?”

“No,” Michael said. Alex nodded, letting go and pulling away. Michael registered that he was in uniform and looking like a man on a mission. Which would explain the stern voice he had. Michael wanted to just grab him and pull him in, kiss him until he said something sweet instead.

Alex clearly must’ve seen that and he reached back out to move his hair off his forehead. 

“Please just be safe,” he said. Michael nodded easily. “I’ll see you after work.”

Michael watched him leave and stayed watching the door until he heard his car door slam and the engine start. Then Michael’s phone dinged and he pulled his eyes away from the door to check it.

Alex: I’m not mad at you. Have a good day, love you 

Michael smiled to himself and got to scrolling for more information. Eventually, though, Rosa climbed through the hole in the floor and gave him an antagonizing smile. He tried to ignore her even as she plopped down beside him, peering over his shoulder. He leaned away and she leaned closer.

“You have a list of all the men named Walt, why don’t you search them individually so you can rule them out instead of making it complicated. Half of them are probably dead anyway,” she said. Michael pursed his lips as he looked at the list of 57 Walts, all of them with a variety of last names. He hadn’t even thought about that. “You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t be too proud,” Michael grumbled, quickly copying the list of names and pasting them in an open document before printing them. He put the laptop on the coffee table and went to go fetch the papers.

“Walt Freedman,” Rosa read, “Why does that sound familiar?”

“I have no idea, did you sleep with an old guy named Walt Freedman?” 

“No,” she scoffed, “I feel like I’ve seen it before. Maybe… Maybe on like a prescription or something? I don’t know, it’s been a couple of months.”

“Months?”

“For me months, not for you months,” Rosa clarified. Michael grabbed the printed pages and walked back to the couch where Rosa was squinting and thinking as hard as she could. He sat beside her and pulled the laptop back onto his lap.

“Well, let’s Google him, see what comes up,” Michael said. She leaned in close to watch and see what popped up when he Googled ‘Walt Freedman roswell’.

It took a minute, but eventually, they got a few results. Michael clicked on a background check website that popped up the name. It gave a few of his relatives, his age of 81, birthdate, and that he used to live in Albuquerque, but no sign of a current phone number or address. Which would’ve been a fine dead end, but then one of his relatives was listed as Lee Sanders. Michael blinked a couple of times in confusion.

“What?” he breathed, clicking on the name. It had all the same information, only now with a name Michael knew and a place of business that Michael knew.  “What the fuck? He knows the guy who knew my mom?”

“Michael,” Rosa said carefully. It was the first time that she’d looked at him without an ounce of rivalry. It made his stomach sink. “I think he is the guy that knew your mom.”

Michael stared at the screen for a few minutes longer before he was standing up.

“I gotta go.”

-

“We need to go talk to your father.”

“Hello to you too.”

Alex wasn’t having a bad day, necessarily, but he’d been riding a high for a little over a week and he was bound to have a downfall eventually. Today was that. And, considering how high that high was, this felt like plummeting even though he logically knew it wasn’t actually bad. That little voice that told him he had to feel guilty for being happy, though, had come back with a vengeance. Michael’s lack of response didn’t help.

“No, seriously, we need to go talk to your father. I’ve been looking through that box you got from that farm and those papers at the bottom had invisible ink on it.”

“How the hell did you figure that out?”

“The paper was kinda warped looking and I thought it was water damage, but it wasn’t. Cam pointed it out,” Kyle explained.

“You’re welcome,” she chimed in. Alex didn’t have the brainpower to care about why they were together when Kyle was in the middle of his shift at work.

“So, get this, we tried a couple of different things to get the ink to show up and you know what did? Heat. Not just any kind of heat. 110.3℉.”

Alex stopped walking.

“Michael’s body temperature?”

“Alien body temperature. I think this was a message written to their moms,” Kyle said, “I think it was meant to show when pressed against their body heat. But the problem is, it’s all in that code that my dad wrote in.” 

“Well, put it through the system,” Alex said like it was obvious.

“I did and I’m gonna go pick it up after work, but I already recognize at least one of the symbols as being one of the undecipherable ones,” Kyle said. Alex groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. One of the younger soldiers on base looked at him in concern, but quickly looked away when he caught Alex’s eye. “Maybe the new context will help.”

“Maybe,” Alex sighed, “Look, I’ll stop by after work and see if I can figure it out then later we can go talk to my dad.”

“Got it, Cap,” Cam said. 

“Yeah, got it, I’ll see you then,” Kyle said, “Be safe, Alex.”

“Mhm,” Alex hummed. He ended the call without saying goodbye.

Alex braced his hand against the wall for a moment, his mind feeling a little foggy from the newfound stress. He hated only getting a little bit of information at a time, he wanted everything. Instead, he kept reaching the top of the ladder and having to construct new rungs to go higher. Which was fine when he felt good, but today he wasn’t.

Mindlessly, he checked his phone to see if Michael had texted him back. They’d gotten into a new swing of things where they’d text throughout the day, it was small and casual, but it made him feel like he wasn’t alone ever. But, still, there was no ‘i love you too’ and no excited messages about what he may have found and no subtle complaining about having to spend a day with Rosa.

That stupid mix of a bad day and his constant levels of anxiety had him staring a little too long before he typed out a message and sent.

Alex: are you mad at me?

Read. No response.

-

“Sanders!”

“What are you doin’ here, boy? I said you had the day off.”

Michael’s mind felt like he was going to explode. The long drive from the cabin out here had done nothing but make him angrier. Did Sanders know who his mom was? Did he just keep that from him for all these years?

“Who is Walt Freedman?” Michael demanded. He froze like he’d been caught. Then he shook his head, turning towards his truck.

“I’m not doing this.”

“Tell me who he is!” Michael said, using his powers to slam the truck door closed. Sanders didn’t flinch or look to him in horror, he just sighed and turned back to face him.

“If you’re showin’ off like that, you already know who he is.”

Michael didn’t know what to say to that. He just watched him and tried his damnedest not to fucking lose it. How could someone who was the closest thing to a father figure he had, the only adult who kept his ass off the street some nights, be the same person who lied to him? It didn’t matter if Michael hadn’t bothered to ask, this felt like a firm lie by the omission of truth situation. 

“Why?” Michael asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew my mother? Why would you keep that from me?”

“I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“The fuck you are, tell me,” Michael demanded, coming closer. Sanders sighed and looked at him, a pretty pitiful look on his face. Michael just didn’t know who the pity was for. Then he gestured towards the chairs around the fire pit outside the airstream that was hardly even of use anymore.

“Fine.”

Michael eyed him, swallowing hard. It felt like it was too easy. But, still, he nodded and they went to sit.

For the next hour, Michael did his best to listen. He kept getting the urge to butt in, to challenge him, to ask why he could trust him, but instead, he kept his mouth shut and dug his nails into the heel of his palm beneath the bandana.

Sanders detailed stories of their time in that barn, about how kind and strong his mother was and about everything that led up to that day in the barn. She was protective and an engineering genius, something she clearly gave to him. He told him of how he’d only ever seen her leave the barn twice, once where’d she’d gone somewhere at night and once at the fair. Other than that, she was extremely cautious. She was the reason they lasted so long in the first place.

“Do you know where she went that night that she was gone?” Michael asked, “Why would she do that?”

Sanders shrugged haphazardly. “I was just a kid, I didn’t ask.”

“You can’t think of anywhere she might’ve gone?”

“I don’t know, boy.”

“Okay, fine, whatever, none of this explains why you went the last 13 years lying to me,” Michael said, eyeing him, “Did you… did you know it was me?”

Sanders pushed himself up to his feet and Michael scoffed, standing to try and stop him. He wasn’t done talking.

“Miss Nora gave me a map before everything went downhill. I wanted to get the hell out of Roswell, but that stupid map wouldn’t let me. Every once in awhile, I’d go up to check on you three in your little eggs. Then one day, I went and checked and you were gone,” Sanders explained.

“So you did know it was me when you gave me a job and let me sleep on your couch, huh? What the fuck is that about?” Michael demanded. Sanders ignored him and walked off. “You didn’t answer anything!”

“What do you want to hear, huh? You wanna hear that I knew what was goin’ on with you and didn’t try to help? That I didn’t go see you at that home and make sure you were okay? That I didn’t do everything I could to give you somewhere you felt welcome like your mama gave me? Because I did!” Michael felt like he’d been hit in the stomach more than once and he couldn’t seem to find the ability to breathe. “They don’t really like givin’ little boys to washed-up old men with a record.”

Michael tried not to get angry or emotional as he went back to his truck, tried to keep himself as Sanders drove off. He fell back in the chair and tried to ignore the choking feeling in his throat. He didn’t know what to do with that information. In fact, he hated it. He rejected it. He could process it later because, right now, it didn’t make sense. What was the point of saying all that if, for the last two decades, he’d just been lied to? 

Now what? He got all the information he could possibly get. There physically wasn’t anymore he could learn about his mother. He knew everything from Caulfield and he knew whatever firsthand account Sanders had from before that, and now what? Now he was just done?

It wasn’t enough.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, forcing him to be coherent for a few seconds as he pulled it out. It was from Alex, a message asking if he was mad at him. The simple answer was no, but he knew well enough that if he tried to get involved in a conversation with Alex right now, he would get mad. Right now, Alex was another person who was lying to him. That helped no one.

So, instead, he shoved his phone back in his pocket and headed towards the Wild Pony to drink away his feelings.

-

Alex was tired but determined as ever. 

The paper translated, loosely, into a warning that a raid was going to happen at the barn. Someone had taken the time to not only learn written alien language to communicate with them but had also warned them. It took Alex a few minutes to realize that whoever wrote it lied about the date or they themselves had been lied to. Alex didn’t know which one to believe.

But, regardless of what it was, someone had warned them. Kyle was right, though, there were a handful of symbols that couldn’t be translated. Yet, somehow, the letters M.V.C. had come through in the signature. It was a claim that they were on their side. That made exactly no sense.

Alex couldn’t wait any longer, though, and sat outside of the hospital until Kyle’s shift was over and only checked his phone to see if Michael had responded once. Cam met him there and the two of them climbed into Alex’s car without argument. He filled them in on what it said and how none of it actually made any fucking sense. If it was a lie, why would they bother mentioning M.V.C.? If it was true, was M.V.C. good? If it was good, why did his father have any part in it?

They pulled up to the Manes family home, two vehicles parked outside to show that Flint couldn’t seem to leave home. Alex almost felt bad for him. Almost.

“What’s the plan?” Cam asked as Alex watched the porch light turn on despite the fact the sun hadn’t quite set.

“We explain that we found evidence that the M.V.C. had been in contact with aliens that weren’t in captivity and that we know two of the heads of the trident, so might as well give up the other one,” Alex said.

“Okay, but what does he gain by giving us that information? We need to make it worth his while,” Cam pointed out. Alex sighed and fished the dog tags from his pocket. He knew his father and he knew that he would all but had a shrine to all the Manes men that came before him. Surely he’d take these with gracious hands.

“I got it,” Alex said.

Kyle’s hand landed on his shoulder, all but forcing Alex to give him his attention.

“You good?”

“Just tired,” Alex said, giving a small smile, “But if we figure out who the third head is, I’ll be doing great so let’s make it happen.”

“Let’s.”

The three of them got out of the car and headed for the front door. Alex had the strong urge to just let himself in, but he figured playing nice would get him a long way. So, instead, he knocked and waited.

Flint answered the door.

“What do you want, Alex?” he said, voice hushed like he was trying to warn him to leave. Alex almost felt bad for him again. But, still, he smiled. 

“I need to talk to my dad,” he said. Flint just stared at him and shook his head so subtly that Alex almost called him out for it. He wanted to call him out for it. “Okay, if you don’t want me to, maybe you can give me some answers.”

Flint closed his eyes and looked over his shoulder before stepping out of the house, closing the door behind him.

“Really?” Cam asked, “Are you that scared?” The way he looked at her said yes.

“What do you want to know?” Flint asked. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“You expect me to believe that it’s this easy?”

“I expect you to believe that he’s worse,” Flint said, giving him a look that made his blood run cold, “I don’t want you going near him. I don’t… I don’t know what the hell he’s up to, but it’s nothing good. He’s talking to old friends he hasn’t talked to since Mom left. I don’t want you getting caught up in that.”

“I’m already caught up in it,” Alex scoffed, shaking his head, “If it’s so bad, why are you still here?”

“And leave him unsupervised? Yeah, fuck that,” Flint said, eyes drifting to Cam and Kyle and then back to Alex, “You guys are tight-knit.”

“That’s none of your concern,” Alex said, “Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what you know about M.V.C.? You wouldn’t give Cam much, but that was before I had more information. So fill in some blanks for me.”

Flint had a look of near dread on his face and he tilted his head back, taking a steadying breath.

“You need to stop looking into this,” he said.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. If it’s affecting my life, I’m not going to just stop,” Alex said. He didn’t quite elaborate that, while he could probably get out unscathed, he couldn’t do it on a good conscience. Not when being blind meant putting Michael at risk. Fuck all of that. “I know that it’s Manes and Valenti and another family. And I also know that they were in contact with aliens back in the 40s who weren’t in captivity. They warned them about the raid. Why would they do that?”

Flint looked around again, eyes going to a camera by the door that had been there since Alex was in high school. He also knew that it had no audio. He pulled out the dog tags.

“Tell me what I need to know and then bring this to dad as a consolation prize, got it?” he said. Flint shook his head.

“I don’t get you, Alex.”

“Yeah, that makes two of us,” Alex said right back, “Just tell me.”

“I don’t know how they made contact in the 40s, but I know that M.V.C. originated as an organization to help integrate aliens into American society,” Flint said, voice soft like he was scared he’d still be overheard. Alex furrowed his eyebrows. “It was started by the younger generations of our families at the time; it was supposed to be helpful.”

“How the hell did it turn into what it was, then?” Alex asked, “Because there was nothing helpful or humane about torture.”

“Yeah,” Flint said, again eyeing the camera. He tilted his head away so his lips couldn’t be read if someone were to be watching the video. “Yeah, that’s because it was taken over by the older members and changed into something else. They spent years saying that they were doing it for good, but it wasn’t. It’s not what it was meant to be and it hasn’t been for a long time.”

“And yet you’re a part of it,” Alex said blatantly. Flint looked at him and then Kyle and then Cam, each looking seeming deliberate.

“Didn’t really have a choice,” he said, “But you do.”

“I know I do,” Alex responded. Flint locked eyes with him and nodded.

“You do. You all do,” he said, slow and making more eye contact than necessary as he reached for the tags in Alex’s hand. Things seemed to click and Alex was torn between feeling absolute dread and wanting to dance on the fucking rooftops. He should’ve known. “I’ve gotta get back to Dad. Thanks for the dog tags.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell us who‒“

“Shut up, Valenti,” Cam said, voice stern. Alex managed to keep his face schooled, but he was feeling more positive than he’d had all day.

Answers were great.

“See you around, Flint,” Alex said, giving a curt nod.

“You too.”

The three of them went back to the truck and Alex waited until he started the engine and locked the doors before he let his smile show.

“Holy fuck,” Cam scoffed, sharing his smile as he put the car in reverse, “Holy fuck.”

“Am I missing something?” Kyle asked, leaning in between the front seats. Alex’s excitement kept building and he slammed his hands against the steering wheel, Cam matching the action with unbridled, uncharacteristic laughter. “Definitely missing something, did he drug you both?”

“No, you dumbass,” Cam said, voice lighter than ever as she turned to face him, “M.V.C. Manes, Valenti, Cameron.”

“Holy fuck,” Kyle joined in, shocked laughter starting to spill from him too, “So, that’s why he recruited you? And we have another avenue to find new information from people that don’t know what we know?”

“Fuck yes we do!” Alex cheered, feeling like he was going to burst. Yes. Finally. Something new. Something good. 

“Brand new generation,” Cam said, “Children of the goddamn alien revolution.”

“This is the most lively I’ve seen either of you and I love it,” Kyle laughed.

And Alex loved it too. Maybe there was a reason for why his day started off so shitty.

Otherwise, this wouldn’t have felt so fucking good.

-

“Funny seeing you here.”

“Funny indeed. Whiskey.”

Maria eyed him but poured him a glass. He downed it pretty much immediately. It burned more than he was used to considering it’d been a hot minute since he’d had anything stronger than a glass of wine on Christmas in months. Alex wasn’t exactly the type to drink a lot, so it felt like a deliberate act if he’d gone to get alcohol. And now since Rosa was staying with them, there was definitely no alcohol in the house. He’d unintentionally gotten basically sober. Who knew.

“How’s life?” Maria asked as she poured him another glass which was weird in itself. Then again, these last few weeks were probably the longest they’d gone without seeing each other in over a decade. He huffed a laugh just thinking about it.

“Depends, I guess. Somehow better than ever and also worse because everything is a lie,” he vented.

“Like what?” Maria asked, leaning towards him. Michael glanced up from his glass to her curious eyes. He wondered if she’d come around from her assumptions or if she was simply just playing nice. It seemed impossible to tell.

“Nothin’ with Alex if that’s what you’re asking.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Maria rolled her eyes and pushed off the bar. 

“Look, the way I acted was shitty, so can we act like it didn’t happen?” Maria asked. Michael eyed her and shrugged.

“You still think me liking Alex is just a phase?” Again, she rolled her eyes.

“No, I don’t. I get it‒loving Alex is easy,” she said. He gave a pathetic little smile.

“You have no idea,” he breathed, taking another sip. Maria just watched him with a thoughtful look on her face. He tilted his head. “What?”

“You really love him.”

“I really, really love him,” Michael sighed, nodding.

“Then why kiss me? If you’ve been in love with Alex since high school, then why even look my way?” Maria wondered. Michael stared at his drink, trying to give her a reason even though he didn’t really have one. Things were weird and he didn’t even know. Now, he couldn’t imagine not going to Alex when he was sad.

And yet, he was sad now, and he’d come here instead of going home to Alex. Maybe that’s what happens when the two people who had no reason to lie were, in fact, lying.

“Me ‘n Alex are… really fucked up,” he admitted with a soft laugh, shaking his head, “Nothing goes right with us.”

“Are you still staying with him?” she asked him. Michael shrugged and nodded. “Well, if you’ve been staying with him for that long, then something’s going right.”

“Nah, it’s not like that.”

“Well, what’s it like?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Are you? Can two people who love each other like that and live in the same house and spend all their time together be just friends?” Maria asked. He looked at her for a moment.

“Yes. If you knew the rest of the context, you’d say yes too.”

“Well, then give me context,” she said. Michael furrowed his eyebrows. “I’m trying to be a good friend here.” He gave a long sigh. Was Alex home yet? Could he go and get forehead kisses and cuddles yet? Or would that involve lying too?

“Context is a hard thing to give.”

“Try me.”

Michael sighed and lulled his head back to look at her. 

“Today I learned that the only two people who I never expected to lie to me have been lying to me for a long time. Alex included,” Michael said dryly, “And that’s got me a little more than fucked up.”

“I’m sure Alex at least has a good reason,” Maria said. She didn’t seem shocked by that admission and it had Michael wondering if she knew more than she let on. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if she did. “He cares about you, so.”

“Why do you care all the sudden?” he asked. She gave a half-hearted smile.

“I want Alex to be happy. He’s happy with you.”

“How would you know that? You’ve never seen us together.”

Maria leaned forward again. “No, but Alex is ridiculously giving. I didn’t realize just how much he actually wanted you until that day in his cabin. He was being as nice as possible, but he wasn’t going to just let you go without a fight. He wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

Michael sighed and closed his eyes, trying to believe that. 

He somehow managed to stay until dark and, by the time he got to the cabin, it was still. The porch light was on, but Michael would bet money that Alex was already in bed. Which meant he couldn’t talk about the Sanders thing with him. He wasn’t going to dump that on him when he was all tucked in for the night. He could talk to him about all the lying in the morning.

When he let himself in, though, Alex was waiting for him in the hallway, leaning on his crutches. He blinked a couple of times before locking the door back and started heading towards the man who looked weirdly happy. Not that that was a bad thing, but it was definitely weird and it felt like an insulting juxtaposition to the way Michael felt in the moment. Michael took a step forward and Alex nodded to the couch.

Michael walked towards it and picked up the small, shiny key that was on the pillow he used when he’d slept every night on Alex’s couch. When he looked over to Alex, he was just watching him from the hallway and seeming to be deliberate with the amount of space between them.

“What’s this?” he asked, holding it up.

“A key to my house.”

“I can pick locks with my brain, you know that, right?” Michael said. But Alex didn’t react. He gave a small, controlled smile and pushed off the wall.

“I also know you like metaphors.”

Alex turned easily and disappeared into his bedroom, leaving Michael standing there and wondering why his skin felt like it was on fire. Maybe Maria was right. Maybe they weren’t just friends. Maybe they could be more. Maybe it didn’t matter that Alex was lying.

Michael followed him to bed like a lost dog, eager for something more. Something that wasn’t just lies or that completely changed the way his entire life worked. He needed Alex to be open to him. Honesty could come later.

He dropped the key in his pocket and sped up, catching Alex’s elbow as he reached the doorway. Alex turned to him easily and rested his crutches against the wall, smiling like the sun had shined just for him. Michael didn’t understand why and, the longer he stared, the more he didn’t care. He wanted to feed off of Alex’s bright mood and maybe, just maybe, make sense of the chaos in his mind.

Someone wanted him. Two people wanted him. And they were both liars. How was he supposed to feel okay about that?

“I found out the third head of the trident,” Alex said, giddy fingers dancing up Michael’s arms and landing on his neck.

“I found out who the little boy was,” Michael said back, drier than Alex as he watched him. Alex’s eyes widened with joy and a smile grew on his face.

“So that’s why you didn’t text me back,” he laughed softly, fingers fiddling with his hair, “That’s amazing, who is he? Did you call him or go see him? What’d you learn? Oh my God, honestly, I feel like we’ve finally just‒”

Michael silenced him with a kiss. He didn’t want to talk. The more they talked, the more it would become apparent that Alex wasn’t going to be honest about everything. He was keeping that goddamn piece from him and it was getting harder to justify now that he knew everyone was capable of lying to him for years.

“Michael,” Alex said as he pulled away with a soft gasp, eyes wide, “We should probably‒”

“I don’t want to talk,” Michael said. Alex searched his eyes.

“You’ve been drinking,” he pointed out. Michael took a heavy breath and rolled his eyes.

“I’m not drunk and I don’t want to talk.”

Alex, his excitement not seeming to fade, just surged forward for another kiss. He was all smiles as he did so. Clearly, his judgment was clouded by his joy. Michael found himself ungodly jealous of that. 

Instead of expressing that, he tried to walk Alex back a step only to discover that it was a little bit harder when he only had one leg to work with at the moment. So, instead, Michael’s hands went to the back of his thighs and he lifted him with ease. Laughter bubbled out of the airman, something that hadn’t been there since he was a teenager. He was so, so happy. And still fucking lying.

Michael took him to the bed, kissing him a little rougher each time his smile skewed the kiss that preceded it. He slammed the door closed with his telekinesis, locking it mentally before easily moving Alex up so his head hit pillows. Again, he laughed and Michael silenced him with his tongue.

“I missed this,” Alex breathed as Michael started stripping him, desperate to escalate things so that maybe, just maybe, he could stop thinking, “I missed you.”

Michael broke contact just long enough to rid himself of his shirt and he looked down at Alex, seeing him still smiling up at him like this was okay. Like nothing was wrong. Like everything was great. How did something like that make him so angry and so happy at the same time?

He stopped looking at his face, instead of moving to tear Alex’s sweats and boxers off him completely. It was a little sloppy, a little reckless, and Alex just kept laughing like this was funny. Michael didn’t get why this was funny. What was so funny about sleeping with someone you were lying to? 

Alex grabbed him, pulling him back up so they face to face. He still had his jeans and his boots on, but Alex was bare and he didn’t seem to be phased by that. He was just comfortable with it in a way he had never been. He pulled Michael in for a kiss, one that was soft and slow and he refused to let Michael set the pace for. He held him that kiss, calloused fingers caressing his cheek and forcing him to calm down. Forcing his mind to shut up.

“I love you,” Alex said against his lips, his fingers sliding into his hair while his other hand dragged up and down his spine. Part of him wanted to cry. A bigger part of him wanted to empty his mind even more.

“Love you too,” Michael said back, pushing himself up and onto his knees to unbuckle his belt. Alex’s hands went to help him.

For a moment, he wondered what this meant.

But then, he realized, it didn’t fucking matter. Nothing did.

[chameleonspell]

some random iriel words i found

[I just found this in my drafts, must have been there a few years, as I don’t remember anything about it. From context, I gather it’s answers I wrote to some sort of horror-themed OC question meme. I used to do a lot of these for character development when I was writing HTDC, but rarely posted them in case I ended up wanting to use the content in the fic. Might as well post it now? I have no idea if anyone else likes reading this stuff, but lmk if you do, I no doubt have a ton more somewhere...]

They have a premonition that something terrible will happen to them. How do they handle the situation?

Iriel would carry on as normal, because he has anxiety, so that's a normal Loredas, tbh. Perhaps some breathing exercises, or carefully modulated Calm spells. If, however, the premonition is specific and prophetic-sounding enough to convince him it results from an external source and not his own brain, then that's a whole different nest of scribs. Because that means that someone is fucking with him, probably a Daedra, and Iriel has well-documented reservations about the trustworthiness of such things. What situation are they REALLY trying to engineer, and why?

Do they have a fear of the unknown and things they can’t explain?

Not nearly as much as some people. Iriel has enough known-fears to contend with that something being unknown gives it rather an advantage, at times. Besides, he's a scholar. Unknown things are inherently interesting, because then you can research them, and test hypotheses! Sometimes to the point of almost contracting vampirism, because you can't resist touching weird-looking corpses.

What is the most disturbing thing they’ve ever seen?

I had to think about this one, because pitching Iriel through Morrowind involved subjecting him to a lot of disturbing things. Sixth House stuff is obviously designed to be body-horror nightmarish, and Ire's particular terror of skeletons meant that ancestral tombs were always going to be a trial. In terms of character turning points, though, I'm gonna say Rotheran was the worst thing he'd ever seen, the most upsetting. Because it wasn't just the slavery, or the sadistic games, or the Daedra worship, or the illusion-magic mind control (though that was all bad enough!). It was the dark things about himself, about his psychology and attitude to other people, that he believed he saw magnified and reflected there, triggering a spiral into self-loathing and despair, and the events of the next several chapters! Which... sounds really depressing, but was ultimately useful, in a gotta-lance-the-poison-filled-abscess-before-you-can-clean-and-heal-it kind of way.

What would they do if they witnessed an alien ship crash landing?

I like how this sort of question highlights the differences of the TES setting. Cosmology, f'rinstance, is rather a different affair. Space travel is occasionally a thing in the lore, but their "space" isn't the same as ours. The appearance of strange crafts from out of the air filled with unidentifiable creatures wouldn't imply "aliens!!!" to someone from Tamriel, but probably something more like: "oh shit what have the Telvanni made NOW?" or "please no more portals spewing horrors from another Daedric realm-o'-the-week, i am so very tired."

If they were a ghost, what methods would they use to haunt someone?

"If". lol. Iriel spends a fair amount of HTDC baaaaasically turning into a ghost, yeah? Insubstantial, invisible, losing all grasp on the material realm. And yet, he utterly fails to use his powers to prank people! Shani and Bodu agree that this is a tragic waste of ghostly powers.

Actually, this is another one where TES sensibilities might differ from ours. In Tamriel, ghosts are a well-documented spiritual phenomenon - the result of a lapse in burial rites, or, in the case of Dunmer, the successful product of them. Haunted houses tend to be places full of actual screaming spectres, rather than strange, poltergeist activity. Floating objects and suchlike would be more readily explained by a mage's mischievous telekinesis than the restless dead.

Anyway, to return to your question, a house haunted by Iriel is largely identical to one in which he is actually living. Either way, you may see little hard evidence of his presence, yet sometimes experience odd, herbal smells; indistinct, yet melancholic apparitions in the corner of your eye, and soft sighs just on the edge of hearing. You may also find your books mysteriously disappearing, and reappearing with the pages tea-stained and dog-eared.

How much would they have to be offered to live in a haunted house for a month?

"Let me get this straight. You're offering me an empty house... yes, fine, there are ghosts, but no real people... an empty house that everyone else is frightened to go near, so I'd have complete peace and quiet-- yes, yes, apart from the ghosts, I mean-- ...and I can do whatever I like there, and... let me be absolutely clear about this... YOU want to pay ME?"

("Hmm? Oh yes, it's been fine. Honestly, the dead are far less trouble than people think, especially the non-embodied kind. Simple wards and charms will do adequately if you want to keep them contained, but really, a little attention is all most of them want. They like it when I sing to them, actually. I did get one dreadful screamer, and had to spend a night traipsing around the cellar, scrabbling in the dirt until I found where the poor thing had been buried, but ever since I got the gravedigger to move him somewhere more comfortable, he's been a total sweetheart. Which is more than you can say for dogs or babies or Bosmer housemates, honestly.")

Could they stay calm lost in the woods all night by themselves?

It's funny... I'm sure Iriel's pa used to take him camping in the woods as a kid, and I'm sure Ire spent the entire time freaking out about weird noises, and generally having an unhappy, stressful time. And yet, upon being released from prison as an adult, he immediately vanished into the woods, and voluntarily spent multiple days and nights alone out there. (Three reasons: fear of civilisation, dissociation and drugs.)

After that, even once the drugs wore off, he'd become accustomed to wild places, and grown to feel safer there than in cities, where the dangers around him were harder to predict and quantify. Iriel is, in some ways, very unimaginative. His mind will create possible scenarios based on his experiences, but it won't invent implausible monsters from nothing, and he finds darkness comforting, rather than a source of horror. The woods at night are a good deal more peaceful and friendly than many other places he's spent time.

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

"Then why use them for a job they are not meant for, just keep them to their original purpose and make something new that works for what you need. And because quality work will save in the long term with less repairs, replacements, and malfunctions over all. And your welcome." The wide grin could be heard in her last three words. She was raised to have some manners after all. "And DT could probably do it as long as the load weight isn't over hmmm..." She drifts off as fingers tap together, mental math being calculated. "Eight tonne? Maybe less. I'm not exactly sure on that front since I actually haven't tested his limits on that front. Hmm something to test another day." Her eyes drifted over the floating form of her robot as it stayed ever vigilant of her surroundings. She knew it could do some heavy lifting since she had used previous versions to move things in the junk yard.

Eyes roll at yet another reason on why to avoid corporations, and another as he seems to enjoy being a pest.

"Actually last thing I did was fix up several things that were in disrepair in Overlook, since too much of the population of that poor town have the skull-shivers and had no access to the medicine. Something about repair tickets being ignored or something like that. And I didn't come here for the shallow reason of becoming rich, I'm opening the vault to try and prevent a very clearly corrupt corporation from monopolization on something that might be a blessing or a curse." If she had it her way, she would keep it locked forever since no one has a full understanding of the capabilities and issues of Eridium that began to spawn after the first one opened. To many variables and yet everyone wanting to just add more into the chaos.

"Yes, yes. The definition fits, but you seem to think I am on the same level of depravity like the Fleshrippers or the Bloodshots. To which all I can say is, rude and incorrect. And princess? Really?" That got her to shoot a glare back at the space station.

"Not everyone. Yes there are people who still deserve a chance to be treated like a decent human because they are. But you seem to be hard at work for making it so those people are just as dead as the rest. And you are right, no one has used an army of robots to lay siege on a planet in the name of their own ideals. They used armies of people, and all of them were considered like a plague upon humanity in the context of history. Dictators, tyrants, oppressors, authoritarians, monsters. Wonder how will you be written down."

At the laughter, and how it grew as she talked about what started this whole hot mess off for her on planet side, it made her skin itch with irritation. Out of everything on this fucking disaster hellscape, it was Hyperion that tried to kill her first. Sure others might have had to deal with bandits at other stops, but she went from off the inter-space shuttle to the train with no issues.

It was fair to say Jack was the first person to try to actually kill her. Even when escaping Eden-5 they were aiming for capture to make her life a living hell instead of a death sentience. It was one of the reasons she was trying so damn hard to keep surviving at this point, out of spite for the asshole who tried to kill them after using some shitty signs to inform them of their supposed doom.

Hands were clenched into fists and she could feel a chill roll through her body. It was like the ice never left at times.

A deep breath as she turns her face to the sun that burns the landscape, she is fine and alive. And she isn't going to follow his script and get pissed. She isn't going to scream like everyone else on this planet. The Mechromancer is going to do what she always does, go against what is expected.

"How about you tell me something else instead. You worked with the Crimson Raiders? What happened? What is the full story, from beginning to end?" Her voice is calm and even, one that seems to hold no judgment and wanting to listen. And she does, after all there isn't much information on the group. Gaige had no plans to jump ship, but she honestly had as much trust for them as she did for most anyone on this planet that wasn't shooting at her. Eden-5 taught her that the only person she could ever trust was her father and the friends she created with her own two hands.

"No bullshit, no propaganda. Just your side of the story. I have time."

Jack did smile at the little sass she threw his way, despite himself. "Well, empty, those things weigh nearly five tonnes. So, nice try. I guess." He chose to ignore her initial comment about using the loaders for their designed purpose. There was not enough patience in Jack's body to unpack all of that right now.

"Oh, the vaults are definitely a curse. But, once you get the ball rolling around here, there's not really anything anyone can do to stop it." Jack shrugged lightly, scanning through the first four pages while he spoke, "You just… gotta do what you can before another idiot comes along and screws everything up even worse than you did."

"Nah, you're right. Princess made me feel a little icky. How about… I- I'll get back to you, I'll think of something real good." he laughed lightly, beginning to scribble down some notes on the papers before he continued. 

"You sure as hell act like 'em, you and your bandit buddies. Just exactly how many things or people have you killed since you got to Pandora? Hey, look, I'll even give wildlife a pass cause- Well, you could kill a hundred skags one day and the next day there'd be two hundred more. Let's just focus on people. Maybe you're not running around screaming about meat bicycles, and maybe it is a little rude of me, but it's also correct. You just don't wanna admit it."

"The people who are still decent in this universe are few and far, kid. In my entire life, I've only met two people who were truly selfless." One's dead and the other’s… worse. "But, you do realise that if it wasn't me up here, it'd just be someone else? Hell, Dahl and Atlas would still be plowing through planets like they're big balls of paper and slaughtering everyone in their way while going off about fighting for those planets' freedoms and peace."

"Ooh, I love tyrant! Has a nice ring to it, don't you think? Always considered myself more notorious, than anything else." The sharp, almost humorous-sounding edge to his voice gave the impression he was teasing her, "Kid, it's nothin' I haven't heard before. You really think I'm gonna be kicking it anytime soon, anyway? Nah. Nope, not happening! I got way too much to do."

Jack's brows knitted together and slowly raised in a mixture of surprise and confusion. Sure, maybe she didn't care, he'd just never had a person who hated him ask for his side of the story before.

He decided not to express his shock.

"So, I'd been working on Helios since it launched, I was, uh-... A- a programming and engineering specialist for Hyperion for ten, fifteen years, maybe. I was in charge of most of the construction, getting together schematic proposals to give to my bosses, all that kinda shit."

"The first time I met Lilith and Roland was when Dahl decided they wanted to massacre all the workers on Helios and take it over. They… They didn't discriminate. If you worked for Hyperion, they'd gun you down without even batting an eye. They killed so many of the workers up here, I knew them all personally. We- we didn't even have a real military then, for God's sake! They shot workers out of the sky when they were trying to evacuate. That was the level of murderous psychopaths we were trying to deal with. We defended as best as we could, but even the freaking loaders weren't weaponised yet, I had like… Six hours to get them into a position to defend themselves, and you bet your ass I did it. I guess that actually answers your earlier question, too. I used them for a job they weren't made for out of necessity, the damn Lost Legion shot at them when they were running away, too. Assholes."

"I managed to get the vault hunter's I'd hired down to Elpis in a moonshot, think you've met a couple of them. They got to Concordia thanks to-" Shit. He hadn't actually thought about Janey in a while. He'd ask Athena how they were both doing, but she'd probably curb stop his head before he could even say hello. "-uh, this mechanic. They asked Lilith and Roland to help cause, y'know, Dahl had stuck a jamming signal somewhere on that moon and I couldn't work Helios's defences until it was shut off. They knew people on Helios were dying, and they said no."

"They only started to help when their lives were in immediate danger and Dahl got control of the moonshot laser and start firing away at Elpis. I really did trust 'em to help us, y'know? Like they promised they would."

"I guess they kinda did. We managed to get control of the laser again and… They blew it up. They nearly took the whole space station down just because they didn't want Hyperion having it. That stupid laser could've saved Pandora, you know. It could've- The blasts were so concentrated we could've wiped out an entire bandit settlement and their nice neighbours next door would've barely felt the ground tremble. I'd worked so hard on that laser. You have any idea how hard it was to make? How much progress they destroyed when they blew that damn thing up? A lot! A whole, freaking lot and-... Sorry. Off topic. Uh…"

He made a small noise, "Oh, yeah. Anyway, after that it was just a rush trying to get to the vault before anyone else did. Dahl was already there, but after what happened with those two I wouldn't have been surprised if they got to the vault first just so we couldn't."

"But, we did. My vault hunters took care of the- The Empyrean Sentinel, I think they called it. Big bastard, more human than the other vault monsters. Freaky stuff."

"So, the Sentinel was dead, and we finally got to the vault relic. It looked like… Nothing. Very underwhelming. Just a weird little floating vault symbol. I decided to touch it and-..." Jack went quiet for a while, his knuckles growing white with how tightly he was gripping the armrests of his chair, "And I saw… everything."

He felt sick even talking about it. The pit in his stomach growing deeper and he knew if he didn't stop soon he'd fall into a full blown breakdown. So, he took a shaky breath in and continued.

"Wasn't long after that when Lilith made her grand entrance. She destroyed the relic and- blasted the fuck out of my face. You ever had your face branded by some freaky eridian technology? It sucks. Real bad."

He let his head drop back, and he rubbed his eyes, "So, there's my side. Think I can quit my day job and become a professional story teller?" Though he tried to make a joke, the fire in his voice seemed to have dissipated. He just sounded… tired.

[missfay49]

Sanders Sides Theory 01/15/20

You want a long theory? HERE’s A LONG FREAKIN THEORY.  

To build off an earlier post of mine here, I believe we can reverse engineer the function of the next Side by analyzing the roles of the current known Sides in the context of their correlating sin.  I’ve included some flower meanings based on the shirt release but couldn’t identify them all from the photos available.  Please reach out to me if you have identified all the flowers.

Pride!Logan

Logic / Craves Stability / Reaction to adversity is to Double down

Logan is proud, but not about just anything.  He values intelligence, critical thinking, and the lofty goals of exploration: re: the astronomy class hype, and “what really is at the bottom of the ocean?” He prides himself in being right 100% of the time and utilizes information to do so.  

When he missuses the word “infinitesimal” it is devastating to him.  It is brought up repeatedly in subsequent episodes and culminates in him feeling like one mistake will prevent him from ever being taken seriously again. He hates being wrong, because he believes that if he’s wrong, C!Thomas will literally fail at life, becoming destitute and homeless.  The stakes are real.  

He needs to ensure success, which is why he first pushes C!Thomas to pursue more traditional careers.  His arc is about accepting that success in life can take on different forms.

Sloth!Virgil

Anxiety (Paranoia) / Reaction to adversity is to Give up

Virgil is often seen promoting activities that would be considered lazy, i.e. going back to bed in the middle of the day, staying home when they could go out, doing less work, trying fewer new things.  His makeup is a dramatized symbol for lack of sleep.  There are multiple instances showing him reluctant to spend more time even just in the presence of the other Sides; “Now I’m gonna go be cool, somewhere else.”  Ducking out is the pinnacle of sloth.

But sloth as a behavior is just a symptom of the actual condition: social anxiety and mild paranoia. Check out my short paranoia theory here.  Virgil resorts to inaction as a defense against feeling insecure about something. Wanted to go to that party, but you’re too nervous to talk to new people?  Well, actually, just stay in.  It’s safer and you need your rest.  

That’s why Virgil’s arc is not about finding the motivation to do things; that would only work if laziness was the true problem.  Instead, his arc is about learning to think through fears and overcome them, so C!Thomas can do what he actually wants, which is to be more social.  

Gluttony!Patton

Morality / Flower: Blue Forget-me-not / Craves Community / Reaction to Adversity is to Fake-it-til-you-make-it

Patton is about cravings. Food, pets, friends; he wants it all. He’s about enjoying everything life has to offer, gosh-darn the consequences.  He wants friends so badly he’s consistently willing to sacrifice his own well-being to put them first.  The concept of morality often focuses on giving instead of receiving.  It’s a way to prove to them that he’s a good friend, and therefore worth keeping around.  What seems like sacrifice is actually a careful prioritization of his favorite thing to indulge in: acceptance.  Being happy all the time is not just a show for the other Sides, it’s for C!Thomas’ friends as well.  People don’t want to be around someone who’s sad, right?  Gotta be happy, so they stick around.  

Forget-me-nots are about happy memories and we already know Patton is a sucker for nostalgia.  One of his favorite things are memories, so he goes to extreme lengths to make lots of good memories with his friends.  Patton’s arc will ultimately be Not about diminishing his craving for friendship but realizing that he can be his most authentic self without losing them.  He can loosen the rules that he internalized.  Real friendship does not require perfection.  

Greed!Deceit

Self-Preservation / Flower: Yellow Sunflower / Reaction to adversity is Sowing Discord

Deceit, like Logan, is also focused on C!Thomas’ success.  The difference is, he could not care less what that success looks like, only that C!Thomas gets it.  Where Logan is all about careful planning and preparedness, Deceit is about taking risks and seizing opportunities.  How can C!Thomas get the most out of life?  No, don’t worry about other people.  There is only C!Thomas.  

Deceit’s objective is to eliminate the consequences of C!Thomas’ mistakes and increase the rewards for his effort.  He will do whatever it takes, whether that’s coaching C!Thomas to lie to others, or to be more honest with himself.  His stance is that since our society is built on lies, we should be willing to use lies to navigate it.  Deceit believes that if C!Thomas is honest to himself about what he wants, he’ll pursue it even at the risk of losing people along the way.  Simply put, Deceit must learn that no one makes it alone.  The sunflower symbolizes false riches, and this explains why Deceit’s assumption is wrong.  We all depend on others to reach our full potential, and a world where C!Thomas has gained everything by discarding or disadvantaging others is one C!Thomas wouldn’t want to live in.  It’s more difficult, but it’s worth it in the end to work with other people instead of around them.  

Lust!Roman

Creativity / Flower: Red Rose / Reaction to adversity is Denial

It’s easy to see that Roman is all about finding that special someone.  Red roses symbolize love.  He’s dashing, brave, and often combats mythical creatures, not for fun (although it is fun), but to prove his manliness to a potential mate!  But this Side is actually one of the most complicated. He believes himself to be the most handsome Side, and he better be, because it is his duty to secure the end-all-be-all of C!Thomas’ life: romantic love.  Someone to spend your life with, grow old with.  The initial conflict between Roman and Anxiety is entirely because having Anxiety around would theoretically lower his chances of securing a relationship.  Once he saw that Anxiety could do what needed to be done in “Accepting Anxiety”, he was able to let go of that worry.

But remember, Roman is also about Self-Love.  The creativity that he pumps out isn’t art for art’s sake; it’s to bring himself joy and to fill that hole in his heart with some kind of excitement.  If he can’t throw all his passion at a person, he’ll throw it onto the stage.  That’s why each time his work is criticized, he’s confronted with the fear that it’s all just a distraction anyway.  Yes, he is objectively good at acting and enjoys it, but part of C!Thomas uses all these creative projects to feel something he isn’t getting anywhere else.

The Roman angst dates aaaall the way back to the Valentine’s Day Episode, wherein C!Thomas decided that platonic love was important to acknowledge, too.  Roman had already stated in the first episode that he would focus on loving himself.  But maybe on that particular Valentine’s day, C!Thomas stopped trying so hard to find romance.  Maybe he fell back on what he already had, the love of his friends, and thought to himself, this could be enough.  And each time an opportunity to feel true passion comes up again, C!Thomas rejects it. First when trying to rekindle things with the ex-boyfriend, then with the big call-back.  C!Thomas is putting his love life on hold to deal with other things right now, and it’s wearing on Roman.  

The worst part is that it’s entirely possible, maybe even likely, that Roman (and therefore C!Thomas) isn’t sure what will happen once he’s found someone.  RE: Episode #1 – his greatest fear is rejection.  

In “Am I Original?” C!Thomas states that if he only ever listened to Roman, he would be setting himself up for heartbreak.  That’s why Roman makes the final ruling in the court room.  That’s why he quietly accepts it every time they make a decision away from love (with impromptu exceptions – “PICK IT UP!”).  He both wants and fears love at the same time.  Roman’s arc isn’t really about what he needs to do differently, but about what C!Thomas needs to let him do for himself.  His stories aren’t about him getting his way and then finding out he took it too far. They’re about him not getting anything at all.  Once he gets the green light from C!Thomas, he will do what he’s always done; Throw caution to the wind in the pursuit of love.  

Envy!Remus

Creativity / Flower: Green Dahlia / Reaction to adversity is Acting out for Attention

All the “Dark” Sides were pushed away for one reason or another, but it seems to hit Remus particularly hard.  It’s not fair that his brother should be chosen over him.  He considers himself not even just as good as Roman, but in many ways better at being creative!  His range is limitless, and he is confident in his abilities, unlike his brother.  He should be the main Creativity, not that crybaby!  

Remus tries over and over again to make C!Thomas notice him.  He gives everything he’s got into each new idea, hoping that this one will be ‘the one’ to earn him C!Thomas’ recognition, but it never does.  Remus embodies envy.  It is his driving force; ALL he wants is consideration for his ideas.  

Since Remus feels envious, C!Thomas does too.  If Remus wants to reach new heights of fame, so must C!Thomas!  From Remus’ standpoint, Roman isn’t getting the job done, so he’ll just have to keep throwing idea-after-horrifying-idea at C!Thomas until he gets through to the man.  

Wrath!X?

Now for the hard part: figuring out what’s missing.  (You can check out my earlier Anger Theory here.)

Let’s summarize how the other Sides use their traits real quick:

Logan is proud of his intelligence that he uses to gain financial security.

Virgil is slothful as a result of his desire to feel safe.

Patton is gluttonous as the result of his goal to make C!Thomas feel happiness and enjoy life in the moment.

Deceit is greedy as a result of his goal to help C!Thomas navigate this world and come out on top.

Roman is lustful as a result of his goal to secure a loving, stable relationship for C!Thomas.

Remus is envious as a result of his goal to get C!Thomas to make a lasting mark on the world like so many have before.

For most of the Sides, the sin is directly related to the Sides’ function.  It’s their method of achieving their goals.  But there appears to be an outlier.  Logan seems different.  He doesn’t need to be proud in order to be intelligent, at least on the surface.  But, maybe that’s not true.  Maybe if he didn’t feel proud when he learned new things, he would have no motivation to seek out information in the first place.  Therefore, pride is essential to Logan’s function.  

All the Sides rely on their sin to accomplish their goals.  They first have a goal, a job that they are supposed to complete for C!Thomas.  Then, the sin is their method of executing that job.  The function of the Side comes before the sin.  

So, if wrath is the means, what is the goal?  What does C!Thomas need to be angry about in order to accomplish it?

What are all the instances where we see C!Thomas (not the individual Sides) get mad, even a little?

TOAwLS - C!Thomas gets frustrated with Anxiety popping up even when nothing’s wrong.

TMvTH - C!Thomas gets mad at Logan and Patton for pelting him with conflicting goals.

GU - C!Thomas acts mad at Patton for dreaming too much, but really, he’s lashing out at Patton because the others are pushing him too far in the other direction.  

MOP2 - C!Thomas rudely disregards Logan for disrupting nostalgia-time.

SVS - C!Thomas gets mad at himself for considering lying to his friends.

If we’re being honest, this is a short list, and some of these don’t even really qualify as anger.  He’s more just kind of experiencing frustration as he works through things.  The most angry he gets is when it affects real people in his life; Lee and Mary Lee’s wedding.  He feels terrible about it, but he’s angry for two reasons here.  First, that the scheduling conflict even exists, because it’s denying him an important opportunity.  Second, because the situation caused him to confront a truth about himself that he’s never been comfortable with.

But we have one more example to work with; the Aside.  In ATHD? - C!Thomas got mad at Rico for past feelings that weren’t even specifically against C!Thomas.  We don’t see it, but we see the effects.  C!Thomas is so angry with himself for lashing out, and it tells us that he’s had a lot of anger before that he never released.  Anger about being in the closet when he was younger.  There are plenty of hints in the episode on this theme:

Roman calls C!Thomas a snowflake.

This shot from the movie: “You must learn to control it.  Fear will be your enemy.”

And most importantly, the lines “Don’t let them in, don’t let them see”.  Patton did purposely sing those lines of the Frozen song “Let it go”, which has often been correlated to coming out of the closet, because that was directly tied to the theme of the premier Aside.  

C!Thomas had so conditioned himself to defend his sexuality that even the mention of past prejudice was enough to set him off, causing him to overreact in the situation with Rico. He was transported back to a time when he was still closeted, afraid to come out because of people like Rico’s younger self.  Now that he’s older, he feels anger toward the people he knew back then, and he took that anger out on Rico.  

Let’s take a step back for a second.  What is C!Thomas’ ultimate goal for himself?  Balance. And what is C!Thomas’ ultimate goal for others?  Love and understanding.

C!Thomas got as angry as he did because this isn’t just about him anymore.  The prejudice that he remembered and was reacting to is something that people continue to face all the time.  As much as he struggled, he’s empathetic enough to know that others must be struggling, too, and his anger at Rico was actually anger at prejudice.  

When the last Side is revealed, it will signal that the arc is closing and the series will eventually be coming to an end.  Will the series have made its mark?  Way back in IIADS!!, Anxiety unintentionally suggested, “using your platform to positively affect your audience the same way Disney did with you”  It’s not just about C!Thomas anymore.  It’s about you.  Us.  

The biggest effect C!Thomas could have on his audience is self-actualization; becoming the most he can be and doing the most good for others that he possibly can.  Prejudice is an issue that has personally affected him and clearly affects his audience.  Fighting prejudice is a cause worth getting angry about, WORTH showing a little wrath.

Logan and Virgil have affected how C!Thomas takes in information.  Deceit and Patton affect how he moves through that world.  Roman and Remus affect how he wants his work to be seen on a personal level.  But Wrath will be how C!Thomas affects the world at large.  Wrath will lead the charge for affecting real change.  Wrath will close out the series and launch a generation of inspired viewers to go out into their own worlds and fight for their freedoms.  Wrath will be our hero.

~

Thanks so much for reading! This has gone on long enough, so I’m adding some bonus theories in the links below tomorrow with other things I noticed during the research for this post.  Hope you enjoyed it!

Bonus Theory now here!

Bonus BONUS Theory now here!