#my own hamster mystery solved

[kirtashfowl]

I had wonder that question for over eight years and finally I have an answer.

[lilacthebooklover]

Lily Headcanons :]

Lily is one of my favourite Kindergarten characters, and I have so many little hcs around her that I'd like to share!

Even after her mission in K1 and Billy being rescued, she still suffers from some depression and a lot of self-esteem issues as a result of Cindy's bullying. She's working on it, and Billy's always happy to help, but her self-worth is... Not great

Her favourite Monstermon card is the Castle of Sand: "built on the beach during low tide, it refused to die when the water came". She's been dealt a really rough lot in life, but she's kept going all the same. This card isn't particularly rare, or anything overly showy & magnificent, but she likes what it stands for (protection, resilience, hope) [:

Her father is a single parent, often overrun with work and so doesn't have much time to spend with her. He's pretty absent, and Lily believes that she has to be independent and capable all of the time as a result- especially to protect Billy after she found him under the school. She often has an inflated sense of maturity, forgetting that she is, in fact, a child

She really likes watermelon. Watermelon ice pops, watermelon sweets, just plain old watermelon

Lily loves organising midnight feasts. Without her dad at home, she's able to raid the house for snacks as much as she likes, and often enjoys piecing together little selections of candy

Leading on from that, Lily has a big sweet tooth. Cindy's comments about her weight started to get under her skin after a while, but donuts are her guilty pleasure :)

When she gets older, she learns how to play the flute. I just see her as a flutist tbh

She's always wanted to be a detective, Billy acting as her assistant as they solve little mysteries around school. If there's something to be solved, she's the first to know!

Lily's very observant and very, very stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she is doing it, no matter how much time and effort it takes. She's efficient and intelligent, and while she's unable to read, she's very good at planning

Her morals are... A bit iffy. She has a strong idea of good and bad, not afraid to cross into the middle territory if the outcome remains good overall, and she's been rather desensitised to death over the years thanks to the world that she lives in

She's not very good at handling affection, often pushing people away when they try to reach out. When she's close with someone, she's exceptionally so, and struggles with trusting everyone else. That's why she's only close with Billy throughout and partially why it was so upsetting that Nugget would seemingly betray someone who trusted him so much by withholding info about Billy

She gets a pet hamster and names it Fluffy because she's 5 and deserves a hamster named Fluffy

Hoodies are her favourite thing to wear, but after Billy went missing, she couldn't bear to touch any of her own, switching to dresses while he was gone (partially thanks to Cindy's influence)

Lily is the older twin. She gives off such older sibling vibes and Billy the opposite. She's responsible and chaotic and cares about her bro and is so exasperated by him at the same time

While good at planning, Lily has a tendency to be a bit reckless, not really regarding her own life as very valuable anymore

Her favourite flavour of ice cream is mint choc chip :)

She's really good at sports. Hockey, long-distance running, swimming, etc. Even dodgeball!

Lily finds it much easier to stick up to adults than she does to people her own age. She can certainly hold her own, but her self-worth issues sometimes make it hard to confront people (especially Cindy) head-on

She and Carla would be really good friends. They can commit crime, stand coolly in the background and sigh at what idiots everyone else is together <3

She's very good at keeping secrets. She likes to know everything she can to stay one step ahead of the game, and not all of that is something she can just spill at random

And that's all for now lol. She's an awesome character and I always love writing her- I'd love to see anyone else's headcanons for her! :D

[u5an5]

Jacobs' Journal: Tape #4 - Pieces on the Board

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.

[START LOG]

Jacobs: Entry Four, Site 19. The game is on.

Jacobs: I've spent weeks preparing on my end, I've worked up a couple profiles on various people inside Site 19 that may be of some benefit to my plans. I've ranked them but their likelihood to risk their lives which, believe me, was a difficult call to make.

Jacobs: Not only do I need to trust these people, but ensure they perform to the point of no return. Even if they have second thoughts, by then they won't be able to turn back and betray me. I'll need to apply pressure to the right points to do so.

Jacobs: <on exhale> Let's meet our contestants.

[Rest bellow the cut]

Jacobs: First on our list is this Mr. Mystery Guard. Surprisingly difficult to find this man, hindered in no small part by Hilliard's goons keeping a good eye on me at all times.

Jacobs: I managed a peek at the personnel records on actual official business, but none of the M's were a match. At least, not the ones I could reach. Even worse, it's possible Lambert knew that we talked, and either reassigned him... (gulp) or more likely killed him.

Jacobs: But if he is alive- (sigh) I saw the look in his eye, the tone in his voice. He knows as well as I do that director Lambert cannot be trusted, should not have this power and if he's willing to risk his life to save me what will you do to save his family?

Jacobs: Lambert's meddling and cutbacks could result in more than just the occasional escaped SCP. One day, it will be an all-out containment breach. Some of the creatures here can puncture holes in the face of the Earth, others are reality destroying nightmares. How far will they spread, how many will they kill, before we retrieve them?

Jacobs: That's my hook. Something tells me our Mystery Guard won't need that much convincing.

Jacobs: <on exhale> Second on a leaderboard is an Engineer Penjani Rowe, specializes in designing containment rooms for Euclid and Keter SCPs. Her resume is quite impressive: amendments to procedures and facilities around 002, 2998, 096, 394... and my old acquaintance, 173.

Jacobs: She has quite a knack for keeping the uncontainable contained, with the added benefit of staying alive. Her psych evaluation suggests she enjoys the challenge, takes great pride in solving puzzles. Usually the talents of someone like her would allow for the choice of any SCP to tackle, regardless of Site designation, but it seems Lambert has had other ideas.

Jacobs: She's been stuck here for four years and with the odd dangerous SCP arriving perhaps once every six months, the outlook is quite... dry for her. Must be very stagnating for such a lucrative career path to come to a sudden halt because one man wants the best on-hand in case of emergency.

Jacobs: She's Lambert's insurance, in case his budget cuts do result in a breakout. Rowe doesn't seem like the kind of person who would appreciate being used as the glorified wrench to tighten the odd bolt. With Lambert gone, she'd be free. With a distaste for authority like hers, it should be easy providing her with incentive.

Jacobs: Here's where things become difficult. I need a technical aid to break through some of the denser encrypted files I've as of yet been unable to access. Whatever is owned I must spell the end of Lambert, should it ever be made public.

Jacobs: Not just any quote-unquote hacker will do. I need part of Lambert's in a circle. Enter: Wilson Miles. Probably one of the most weedy weasels I've ever had the displeasure of encountering, and I've been an espionage.

Jacobs: I've seen the worst humanity has to offer. But Miles is... it's another level. Imagine a rat-faced intern with a constant nose-drip, the dirtiest sneakers in history, and you'll have a pretty good idea what this guy looks like. *turns page* He has the personality of a mole-rat and the skittishness of a hamster, hence why he's so far down my shortlist.

Jacobs: Really should steer clear of this one until I have some good dirt on him, as it seems that'll be the only time I'll be able to puppet him into performing my plans. Lambert keeps him around like some kind of servant, and not just for posterity. He knows talent when he sees it, and Wilson Miles has that in spades.

Jacobs: As emotionally stunted as he is, the man has talent with code... or whatever it is you do when you hack things. Find his vice, he'll dance to my tune.

Jacobs: (sigh) *turns page* Third on my list, and I'll group them together, are Leslie Manning, Jacques Swindle, *turns page* Nikolai Alswell and Trevor P. Denton, hereby referred to as the D-Class Crew. Of all the current D-Class on-site, these four have the kind of skill sets I may find useful should I need to make a big play.

Jacobs: Jacques and Nikolai used to pull big heists before they were arrested, Nikolai himself went through army training. Miss Manning is ex-CIA, so it would be handy to have her espionage skills on hand. Denton not only used to run a crew, he used to smuggle a lot of legal goods internationally, and as a knack for stealth missions.

Jacobs: Why so far down the list? *turns page* Because there's no guarantee they'll help me. They may have the skills, but of all the other criminals and political prisoners in this facility, these will have one thing in common: ties to the outside. Each of them has something to lose, as well as something to gain.

Jacobs: So far, The Foundation and law enforcement haven't discovered them, but I only need to press upon them that all it takes is a word about a hidden Cayman Islands account, or whispers of a secret family hiding from the authorities, and those things will vanish into thin air.

Jacobs: It's risky, ironic if you think about it, but they could prove more useful to me than anyone else on this list. Finally,... I'll need some muscle. While our first pick would be ideal in terms of access to restricted areas without rousing suspicion, I need a soldier for arms and perhaps a touch of subterfuge.

Jacobs: Colonel Hiland would be the best weapon to use against Lambert, but since that'll call for a miracle of biblical proportions (deep inhale) I'll have to settle for her second: <on exhale> Major Aaron Chen. Chen's not just a brown-nose, he's career. Which means he has total investment in being the best in the eyes of his superiors.

Jacobs: As such, he's modelled his life completely around the work here, at The Foundation. This is... gonna be a challenge. Chen's known to be a harass. He relished beating that scientist I mentioned a while back, yesterday he pushed one of his own men into their food in the Mess Hall. What is it with this man going for the face?

Jacobs: Maybe if I play my cards right, I can show him how getting rid of Lambert de-legitimizes those close to him, including Colonel Hillard. With her forced into an early "retirement", the council will be looking for someone else to take her place. Perfect motivation for an officer looking to move up in the world. It all depends how willing he is to screw people over, take a risk, to get there.

Jacobs: (sigh) *turns page* This'll take a while to move into action. I'll need to be slow in some areas, selective in others, and some moves... I have no idea how they'll turn out. Wonder if I look back on these tapes, I'll be glad events panned out the way they did, (quiet snort) or if I'll regret not having a time machine SCP on hand.

Jacobs: (drawn out sigh) Ugh... Administrative Oversight Jacobs, signing off. I hope it was worth it.

[END LOG]

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[mokkemusic]

AidaIro’s au’s are really Nene’s stories

I want to share something I always thought about regarding AidaIro’s Hanako au’s (ghost hotel, hoto, playing cards etc) I was talking out my ideas with Cat and Hope and by doing so I have something cohesive to share.  

In my head I can actually imagine Nene being the one to come up with all these au’s cause she’s so creative and in her own fantasy world sometimes. She loves romantic things but also loves odd and dark things so I could see the au’s fitting that.

(That’s @thehopeelias​ art btw that she did for a Tiny Light cover/animatic we collabed together on here)

Monster Nursery

I think the other au’s are easier to see her come up with but I still think Nene would come up with the nursery one as well. Because it would be her desire to see Hanako as a teacher/researcher all grown up. And then she would just make it in the “unique way” Nene always does.

In some way she would want to see what the Yugi twins were like together grown up. And she added Kou to the story as well cause he’s their friend too. She wants to see them older and doing good things. But mostly she wants to make him into something he would be proud of and also see what the brothers would have been like together sharing that success, passion, and happiness.

Nene for this specific AU of Amane being a grown up researcher/teacher, she would be the child in this situation. Mitsuba is always a child, let’s be real. And the mokke... well the mokke are kinda like pet hamsters lol.

And because she loves monsters (like her veggie monsters) she’d want to make herself the coolest fire breathing monster of all of them.

She’d want to know Tsukasa more and how he would act as this adult who got to live out his dreams with his brother. Therefore she would attach herself to him just to bond with him more and see how he can be. How she can imagine him being.

In regards to Mitsuba, I think the only reason she put him in it is cause she’s never seen Mitsuba and Hanako interact and she would just be curious how Hanako would respond and be a father figure like Sensei/researcher to him. So that’s the reason for that.

The mokke were all that was left, she wants to see what Kou would be like caring for something. There’s no better reason for that one being just a mokke. Also Nene knows that he has a little sister he cares for, so taking care of the mokke is easy for him.

Ghost Hotel

The dark magical fantasies like Ghost hotel represents the desire she should be afraid of but secretly craves. Along with the obvious enticing mystery.

Royal (Playing Cards)

The Royal one is what she dreams of like having a prince riding a white horse. But does she really want that? Maybe she wants it a bit darker. A ruthless ruler that her country is at odds with or that is against the way she thinks a prince should be because she says she wants one thing but what she truly wants is a bit of a dark prince. A prince that can sweep her off her feet and rule the kingdom, protect her, and give her luxury in this all powerful fantasy.

Hanako of the Opera

The opera one represents mystery, wanting to know the man (the ghost) that she spends time with that no one knows about. At the same time still not knowing anything about him. At the same time he starts revealing little by little his past tragedy and judgment.

I think of this one line from phantom all of the time. I don’t know if I know if I got the wording exactly but he says something like:

“Why should I show compassion? The world has never shown compassion to me!”

It is very representative of Hanako’s true self. Showing more pain and passion and sorrow and darkness that she puts into this fantasy. Nene created this one to be more raw than the other ones.

Phantom Thief

Phantom thief... I only just recently kinda opened my eyes to phantom thief so.... To start with there are 2 versions. Technically.

One can just be her revised draft of a fantasy story. I’ll just say that. Similar to how a writer often goes back and changes things in their writing. It’s exactly like that. Even changing character roles. For example Nene as a waitress then Nene as detective.

But as far as the reasoning for the phantom thief fantasy is concerned...

Mystery and puzzle solving go together, yes, but...

Hanako’s ultimate goal is to steal the moon.

I’m still working this out but maybe in some underlying way it also represents unachievable dreams.

Additionally it represents Hanako as an outcast (like how phantom is) being “WANTED” by the Minamotos, who are the police. And then Nene working under Tsuchigomori. They aren’t trying to catch the phantom necessarily but mainly trying to uncover more information as detectives do. It is also like how Nene goes to Tsuchigomori for answers about Hanako which he doesn’t give her but at the same time Tsuchigomori sees that she has uncovered more about how Amane can be.

“In all the years I’ve known him I’ve never seen number 7 act like that.”

Tsukasa would be the one Hanako robbed from. Just like he robbed Tsukasa of his life when he killed him. In a deeper sense maybe taking away Tsukasa’s greatest treasure in his eyes, Amane himself. Nene would be the one that Tsukasa hires to do the investigating in this fantasy. Tsukasa liking to mess with things, Nene liking to uncover things (that part is still a theory but it makes sense for her character).

It represents everything Nene is trying to figure out and solve about Hanako. It has the people that he has history with when he was alive, helping her to understand this fantasy and get answers into the mystery that is Hanako. Hanako being the acclaimed villain in a way.

I think that sums up my analysis of all the au’s represented as Nene’s fantasy worlds and why they are set up like that. I may add more to this post as time goes on because I feel like there’s a lot more that can be fleshed out. But because these are AidaIro’s au’s you never know how much truth is behind them. They do seem to have a lot of hidden truths. So regardless I really love thinking like this, Nene is the one that created these stories.

[tigerdrop]

so. this is my attempt at posting a 20k-word-long g/t frenrey RP that kogo and i were doing at the start of this year. its not finished and im not sure when were gonna pick it back up, since we are currently working on co-op game theory instead of a filthy RP that takes place like 100k words down the line of co-op game theory. but ive been sitting on it long enough so here u go

i never really planned on posting this anywhere so its really self-indulgent and not as polished as our usual stuff but look. this is a ludicrous amount of erotica im dropping here. cut me a lil slack

anyway, here it is: Gordon Gets A Xen Bath

Gordon tries to keep moving, but eventually his pace slows to a stop, his legs growing heavier and heavier until he can't bring himself to lift them.

"Okay. Okay," he pants, bending over and bracing his hands on his knees. "I can't fucking do this anymore, man! I'm tapped out! We've been walking all day - or, well, I have, I don't know about you. We can't... can't all be alien god fuckers, floating around or whatever." He pauses to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body aches from the strain of hopping around Xen in the HEV suit. Sure, gravity doesn't have quite as strong a hold here as it did back on Earth, and that makes all that metal easier to lug around, but it seems like time doesn't work the same way, either. Gordon can't tell how long it's been. Feels like days.

Smells like it, too, now that he's got a moment to breathe. He's covered in dirt and slime and congealed alien blood and God know what else.  In short, he needs a fucking break. And Gordon aggressively takes one right then and there, dropping to his feet. What's the rush, anyway? "Like we're ever gonna find out way out of this fucking place," he mutters.

> Benrey watches as Gordon collapses, a pile of metal and smells. Odors. Sweat and dirt and tangled hair. His head tilts to the side but his expression remains flat as he lifts his head and gazes out into the vastness of Xen, before turning back to Gordon and furrowing his brow. They hadn't even gotten far, not really, so it doesn't really make sense that he'd just crumple like this.

> He sniffs, shuffling in a circle on his feet as Gordon bitches behind him--something about never escaping Xen, as if Benrey hadn't traveled from one end to the other to find him in the first place--and chews his lip in deep concentration, trying to think of literally anything that would maybe make the guy stop. Stop with the, uh, whining and whinging and "blah blah, we're not all alien god fuckers" or whatever.

> (Though, well, technically, Gordon was an alien god fucker anymore. Their time back with the space maggots and the gun bugs and that skinny doppelganger had seen them in a couple of situations where Gordon happily fucked an "alien god.")

> But. Wait. No. Mind wandering. Wandering to fun places, places more fun than being lost in Xen (though he's not lost; they'll find their way out eventually), but not anywhere useful. And, for once, he has to think along those boring terms. Being, you know, reliable or whatever.

> What matters is making Gordon go. The hamster wheel in his head turns and turns until the rodent is slung clear off and, with a slow blink, Benrey accepts defeat. Ideas are not his forte when he's actually trying to be helpful. He turns to his human, he tilts his head in the other direction, and he waits for his human to look up at him. Then, he speaks without even waiting for eye contact.

> "So, uh... what can best friend Benrey do to... make you. I dunno. Less dumb?"

> Nailed it. Benrey is getting good at this "empathy" thing.

Gordon drags his gaze up from the ground to Benrey, and immediately scrunches his eyebrows up. "Wow, that was almost nice of you," he says, a touch of genuine surprise in his voice. It doesn't outweigh the disdain, though. "You know what? Just don't do anything. The best thing you can do right now is to stand right there and do absolutely nothing... and let me just... catch my breath."

He hopes against hope that, for once, Benrey will do what he says. Despite all the evidence that suggests otherwise. His internal monologue turns a bit haggard. Well, it's not like there's anything he could do about it, anyway. Even if he was fit as a fiddle, if Benrey wanted to fuck off and get lost, there was no stopping him.

He can't hold Benrey's stare for long, though. It's-- it's always harder to look him right in the eye like this. Something about the size of him makes it uncomfortable, like he's staring right through Gordon. So he darts his eyes away, scanning his surroundings. The perils of an alien landscape: all the little islands and chunks of earth start to look the same after awhile. Rocks and strange, angry plants and pools of mysterious fluids. He's seen it all. There's a number of all these things and more around him, but the one thing he finds himself wishing for is something to eat. You can't trust anything out here.

"I just want a burger, man," Gordon groans. "Sick of jumping around like I'm playing some kind of platformer. You know, they never tell you how exhausting this shit is! My heart's-- my heart's racing-- like, adrenaline? Hate fucking jumping over these big-ass pits, I'm tellin' you."

Or, failing that, like, a nap. Or a bath. He vocalizes both of these things before burying his head in his hands. Maybe he could get one of those microsleeps going. If he can just calm the fuck down, anyway.

> Food? Nap? Bath?

> Benrey's mouth curls into a jagged smile. Of course Gordon would just need some of that weird, seemingly pointless human stuff. You would think after two grand adventures of dragging this sad sack around and listening to him complain every two meters, he'd have picked up on the human necessities. Things like 'burger" and "bed time" and "smelling like preferred smells, and not the natural smells that are apparently 'bad.'"

> A huge sigh heaves out of Benrey and he watches in amusement as it makes Gordon's hair puff out of his face. Small little tiny man, curled up on a chunk of rock, not able to embiggen and make things easier. It's sad and pathetic, almost as sad and pathetic as Gordon looks, but Benrey knows he's capable of being a good enough guy for the both of them. A real bro. A best friend.

> Because he knows Xen inside and out for some reason. And he's observant. He's seen things and can do the mental math necessary to figure out how to problem solve, sort of. He's spent enough time floating around Xen to figure out what those sparkly puddles do, and he's seen enough of those people back in the Wrong World eat the not-Lamarrs (or, at least the Vorti-bros did, which were close enough).

> And, well, Gordon could literally sleep anywhere. There was dirt for days, lots of rocks to align the spine. Fun nap places. Good for Gordon.

> With a burst of pride and dagger-toothed grin, Benrey propped his elbow on the island where Gordon was whining and held out his hand, palm up and flat, extended as an open invitation.

> "Oh. Uh. That it? That's, uh... that's a cool I can do. Big cool for you."

He stares, eyes narrowed in confusion. "What? What do you mean, that's a-- What are you doing?"

> "I'm doing a cool," Benrey responds. Though his voice is still fairly flat, there is a bite to it, hidden almost completely under his monotone. As if to emphasize the point, he lifts his hand and slaps it back down into the earth once more in a way he thought was light. Judging from the way the ground shook and the island rocked, perhaps not as light as he'd imagined.

> "Gonna, uh... help. Or somethin'. You gettin' on or you gonna be a babyman about it?"

Gordon yelps as the ground shakes around him, even though he's (relatively) safe on the ground. "Jesus, Benrey! Watch it!"

What the hell is he doing? His eyes dart between Benrey's hand and face as the gears struggle to turn. It's been a long fucking day, all right, and Benrey's... Benrey-isms are hard enough to understand at the best of times. This is supposed to help, somehow. So, scratch the burger. And the nap, too, probably. So, does that mean he wants to--

No. That's stupid. He's stupid for thinking it. Gordon steadfastly ignores the way his ears prickle and shakes his head, like a dog ridding itself of water.

"Please tell me you're gonna just carry me the rest of the way," Gordon sighs. It's a visible effort for him to get back to his feet. "Hey, actually, why didn't you just do that from the get-go? You're not even breaking a sweat!"

He complains, sure, but it doesn't stop him from dizzily shuffling forward and stepping on. Better late than never. He'll have plenty of time to chew Benrey out for this once he's out of this alien hellscape and back in his own goddamn bed.

> Benrey blinks.

> Oh. Yeah. He probably could have carried Gordon, huh? The thought never really occurred to him at first because, well, why would it? Was he a bad guy--a bad friend--for believing that his bestest buddy was a capable man? Color him insensitive for actually expecting things of Gordon, but he'd just watched the guy win Space Invaders in real life.

> After that, traipsing through Xen should have been a walk in the park.

> Best not to point that out, though. Gordon may take offense and, for once in his life, he isn't out to make him mad. He's trying to be good, trying to carry that camaraderie they built from Shit World Without Sony Products back to Good World With Heavenly Sword. Highlighting Gordon's stupid human failings would only work to reset the karma he'd worked so hard to build up in their social link. Or, you know, however humans fucking worked.

> Instead, he lets Gordon crawl onto his hand and then turns away, wracking his mind for the last place he saw a good puddle. After all, it made sense to start with a bath, right? Eating while gross would make Gordon complain, and sleeping while gross wouldn't be much better. Drifting past island after island, his head swivels to see if maybe there are some good candidates going forward.

> And there's... really not. Testicle stalks. Pointy rocks. Less pointy rocks. Tit-on-stilts that is aggressively spitting little Lamarrs over the edge of a rock chunk that looks like Swiss cheese. Benrey isn't sure what it's hoping to accomplish, but it's sure as fuck not accomplishing it.

> Then, he sees it, in the distance: A glittering pool of blue that sparks like electricity and glitters like cheap body mist. A strange smell, not unlike Sweet Voice, wafts from its direction. It's certainly one of the Good Smells Humans Like. Gordon will love it.

> Wordlessly, he glides toward it. Gordon's smart. He'll know what he's getting at.

Benrey's not saying anything, which is mildly concerning, but he is looking around like he knows what he's looking for. And when Benrey fucks off, Gordon in tow - held in a grip that's a little looser than he likes - Gordon lets his brain wind down for the first time in... a long while. Flying around Xen like this is nervewracking, yeah, but in a way he's more equipped to handle. Benrey's chest at his back helps. It's solid as a wall and deceptively warm, and if he keeps himself pressed flat against it, he can almost forget about these bottomless pits they're flying over.

He lets Benrey go like that for an indeterminable amount of time. (He may have dozed off a little.) But Gordon comes back to himself once Benrey's velocity changes. Gets a bit more pointed. Eventually, Gordon puzzles out that he's heading for one island in particular, one with a shimmering pool on its surface. Not exactly what the endgame was.

Wait. Gordon's brain chugs. He was looking for... some kind of water? Oh, Christ.

"Wait, were you being serious about the bath thing?" he asks as they approach. "I-- I wasn't being that serious about it! Getting out of here kind of seems like the more important thing!"

> "Huh?"

> The word falls off of Benrey's lips despite the fact he actually heard everything Gordon said. He heard him and even registered him, but he just didn't get him. After all, he's fairly certain that Gordon wants a bath considering it was one of the big things that spewed out of his mouth when he was being all needlessly fussy before, so why isn't he just saying it? Owning up to it?

> Was it because it was a detour? Slowing them down? Or was it just Gordon being whatever-the-hell-Gordon-was?

> Yeah, that had to be it. Gordon just doesn't want to get side-tracked. That's fair, he supposes. Or, at the very least, he assumes that's what a human would consider fair, considering how obsessed with "time" and "schedules" and "fast" they all were.

> "Real quick dip," Benrey promises, hoping to put Gordon's mind at ease; it was a far cry from what he typically did, so he could only hope it landed properly, that he was saying the right things and had the right inflections. "Real fast. Get'cha all nice. Wet. Uh. Soaps and hygiene. You know."

"Oh my God, man, it's gonna be a whole fuckin' production!" Gordon agonizes as Benrey brings them to that strange, glittering watering hole. "Saving the world's kinda time-sensitive, you know? And it's always such a hassle getting in and out of this thing! And-- Okay, hold on, you actually want to-- Okay. Fine. Look, I'm just saying, this is weird even for you, Benrey!"

Soaps. Hygiene. You know. Letting his best frenemy peel him out of his suit so he can scrub him clean, like normal people do. A shiver runs down the back of Gordon's neck. There's gotta be some kind of catch, but honestly, he's having a hard enough time keeping up with events as they're written. If there's some kind of malicious subtext to this whole thing, well, that's not his problem. He's got more important things to worry about, like convincing Benrey that it would be a little more prudent to just keep forging on rather than waste valuable time on a bath.

...Unfortunately, he's close enough to smell whatever it is that wafts off the surface in waves, and it makes Gordon's resolve waver. It's a clean smell, warm and vaguely fruity, with an undercurrent of salinity. Like a shower that's just been used, almost. God, he'd really like that, wouldn't he.

> The words don't really have weight to them anymore. If Benrey had a nickel for every time Gordon called him "weird" or told him he was endangering the world by taking detours, he'd have enough nickels to melt them down and make a big-ass nickel. And, judging from the way even Gordon's mouth wasn't running anymore, it didn't seem like Gordon had put any weight into his own words, either.

> Which was good. Real good. It meant Benrey was doing a nice job of not pressing every one of Gordon's buttons like a kid in an elevator, and being a proper friend. Best friend. More than friend? God, he fucking wished.

> And he'd shut up right in the nick of time, too, because the urge to tease is building up inside of Benrey like pressure in a flaming aerosol can. It's hard not to want to pick at him when Gordon is griping like this, just goading him on with his (strangely cute) bullshit. Benrey mentally pats himself on the back for a job well done as he glides to the edge of the island and leans carefully over the tiny expanse of mottled dirt and glittering water.

> "S'fine. You're fine. S'gonna be fine. Just cleanin' you up, makin' you pretty. Like a good friend. Best friend."

> The water bubbles against the back of his hand as he extends it, dangling Gordon over the surface so he can get a good look at it himself. Maybe, with the proper viewing, he'll realize that this will be a pleasant time all around. Good for him. Fun for Benrey. Bonding experience.

> "Gonna make you, uh, real shiny. Polished.  A, ah, regular... Casa... Casa del Nova."

> With that, he hooks a nail under one of the thigh pieces of the HEV suit and waits, eyes resting on Gordon's face in search of approval. Approval he selfishly hopes comes quick, before reflex takes over and he pops it off regardless.

Gordon peers over the edge of Benrey's hand to look down at the water, where it lies placid and clear and a vivid blue-green. Mysterious bubbles aside. It's... it's like one of those pools at Yellowstone, he thinks dizzily. They look so warm and inviting and then you step in and suddenly your flesh is deciding to melt right off of you. Gordon's stomach swoops unpleasantly.

Then Benrey offhandedly mentions making him pretty, as if he were just trying to sell Gordon on a new restaurant, and it swoops for an entirely different reason. An irritating reason.

"Don't just fucking say things like that," he says hotly, his voice pitching up and cracking from nerves.

But it becomes an afterthought in short order when Gordon feels Benrey's nail tugging at his HEV suit, and he realizes that Benrey's very, very serious about this. Especially when he fixes Gordon with that intent stare. Like he's waiting for something. Permission? It must be, since he's not making any moves to pop off the armor on his thigh. Gordon looks down at Benrey's finger, chipped black paint peeking out from the corners, then back up at Benrey.

Oh, fuck this. He hates when Benrey does this. It's one of those mind games, or something. Make Gordon be the one to make the call, like it's a game of chicken and Benrey's trying to get him to lose. Instead of, you know, not derailing his entire fucking journey in the first place with the suggestion of a bath. One where, well, it does smell really nice. And he can feel the ambient heat from the water from his perch on Benrey's palm. And Benrey's offering to pry him out of his suit and, presumably, do the washing for him. So Gordon doesn't have to move a muscle. Or even think about it.

His face twists and turns its way through a melange of emotions before he decides, fuck it. Even if this is weird, and Benrey's probably playing some kind of 4-dimensional chess, his mind's already sold itself on the idea. So Gordon's tongue darts out to wet his lips, mouth unexpectedly dry.

"I-- Okay-- You know what, fine. We're already here. Just... no, fucking, tricks or jokes or whatever, man. If you leave me on some fucking rock with my dick out, I'm going to kill you," Gordon tells Benrey.

> What Benrey wants to say is that Gordon is being a baby. A bitch, even. There's no reason for him to get all flustered and pissy when they've already done so many things together. Things that only the closest of bros do, like take down a hostile invading force and push their dicks together and make out. But instead, Benrey takes a deep and steady breath as he works his nails deeper under the chassis of the HEV suit and tugs up with a satisfying click as the latches come undone and the thigh piece flops uselessly off of Gordon.

> "Cool."

> He moves onto the next section, eyes narrowing and eyebrows knitting above his nose as he looks down at Gordon and tries to focus. Head empty, aside from trying to figure out how in the hell he's actually supposed to undo all the delicate bits with fingers as big as his human. It was easier when he was small, and he supposes he could be small again, but that would be no fun. Perhaps he could just rip it off of Gordon with his teeth like the top of a sardine can, but it would be even less fun to deal with the little guy yelling at him for hours.

> Getting Gordon's goat was fun and all, but god, did the guy know how to harp on a subject like no other person he'd ever met.

> Instead, Benrey's tongue pokes out between his fangs as he presses the tip of his finger against the inside of Gordon's other thigh and lets his fingernail search for the seam, the latch. He cocks his head like an owl and leans down close enough that Gordon could touch his face, heaving out a huge and uncharacteristically irritated breath. From here, he can smell the musky odor of sweat and dirt and grime and alien goo, and it's strangely nice. Earthy. Very Gordon.

> He'd smelled it before, when he wasn't quite this big, when Gordon was unzipping his suit and climbing into his lap and drool pools at the corner of Benrey's mouth, equal parts saliva and lusty Sweet Voice and--

> Click.

> The other piece of thigh armor falls away. The noise shakes Benrey to his senses.

> "Turn please," he orders mindlessly. His voice is a bit more husky and demanding than it had been a moment before.

Gordon watches as Benrey pops off his armor like it's nothing, like Gordon hasn't spent hours fruitlessly trying to do the same himself. It would have saved him the constant indignity of relying on Benrey to get him in and out of the fucking thing. He tries really hard not to think about the indignity of this, too - Benrey's face so close to his, a hot, irritable breath fanning over him, and fingers at his--

Oh. Gordon jumps a little at the insistent press of a fingertip against his inner thigh, and heat rushes to his face. This part's mildly embarrassing at the best of times, when Benrey's smaller and more human-sized, but now? With fingers much too big for the job? Spreading his legs apart where he sits, rubbing insistently against his inner thigh... He can't help the shaky breath that forces its way out of him.

Jesus Christ, his hands are big, Gordon thinks, mind racing. Sure, yes, he's had this thought before, when Benrey was using them to slap gunships out of the air, but it's a little more pointed when they're prodding him like this. He tenses. Not entertaining these thoughts today, thank you. The whole point of this, presumably, was for a normal, ordinary bath. In a pool of mysterious alien water. With his rival stripping him down and scrubbing him. While he's so big that he could squish Gordon like a bug, if he wanted... or pick Gordon up and maneuver him around, broad fingers all over him, sizing him up. If he wanted.

He comes back to himself when he hears a command. Turn please. Quick and insistent. Gordon's eyes jerk away from where they'd been staring at Benrey's finger.

"Turn? Like, fucking-- God, ow--" Gordon hisses through his teeth as the motion twists one of his aching muscles the wrong way. "I don't even know why I'm doing this. It's not like this was stopping you... You know, I'm starting to think you just like bossing people around for no fucking reason." Despite his bitching, he does as he's told.

> Maybe he does like it. The bossing, that is. Benrey isn't sure. It's one of the few human things he knows--his job back at Black Mesa--and it's one of those things he's good at. Usually. At least now he feels good at it, with Gordon actually listening to him.

> He watches as Gordon turns, head shifting to tilt in the other direction, watching as his human trustingly turns his back to him and displays himself in a way that makes more Sweet Voice seep from between his teeth. He sniffs, he uses the back of his free hand to wipe away a trickle of fluorescent fluid trailing from his lips, and quickly wipes his hands off on his pants. His eyes never leaves Gordon's back.

> Lower back.

> His ass.

> Benrey had told him before that it was a nice one, and it was still true... uh, even if he can't really see it with Gordon sitting and all. He can imagine it in its entirety, though, nice and small, even as he fumbles with the latches on the back of the chest piece. He hardly notices as he clicks it open and the front hits the pad of his palm with an audible slap of metal against skin. He reaches around to pluck it away, the side of his hand brushing against Gordon's front.

> Gordon's heaving chest. His soft midsection. His...

> Benrey shakes his head as if snapping himself out of a trance. An involuntary laugh snorts out of his nose as he leans down, peeking over Gordon's shoulder like a creeping dragon, breath hot against the back of Gordon's neck.

> "Cute."

> And with that, he grabs the next part of Gordon: his arm, raising it up effortlessly like a doll's and carefully searching for the next latch.

Maybe facing away from Benrey wasn't the smartest idea, in retrospect. It feels like he's closer, somehow, his breath coming hotter and faster against Gordon's back. Benrey breathing down his neck should be, like, gross. Creepy. Gordon knows by now that Benrey likes to make a big deal about keeping them clean, but it's not like he knows when Benrey brushed last. It shouldn't smell... like that. Sweet. A distinct chemical note on the underside. Like ketones on his breath, but nothing that Gordon can place for certain.

Sweet Voice, probably. It's muted and subtle. He's not belting it out like he usually does, so Gordon can only guess what Benrey's feeling. Unfortunately, he's all too aware of what he's feeling: goosebumps, pebbling his skin from the neck down. A little frisson. They crawl all the way down his arms and make him shiver.  He can practically feel Benrey's eyes on him, too, all up close and personal. Don't break a sweat, he wills himself, because he knows Benrey's watching him like a hawk.

It doesn't stop a bead from pooling at the back of his hairline, then losing the fight against gravity and slowly trickling down his neck.

Benrey snorts, and Gordon flinches, cursing under his breath. He couldn't even have that, huh. Then Benrey has the audacity to call him cute. And that makes his blood pulse, briefly flashing his skin with heat, before receding just as quickly and leaving a chill in its wake.

"Wh-- Whoa, okay," Gordon starts. His indignant response is temporarily cut off by Benrey lifting his arm between a thumb and forefinger. He offers about as much resistance as a fucking action figure, even creaking a little for good measure, and it's distracting, okay?

After a few moments, though, he regains his bearings. "Shut up, man," he says, flustered. "I'm not even-- Just-- Quit being weird, okay?" Because, frankly, this is weird. He's not used to Benrey being so... accommodating. Helpful. Nice. And he doesn't know what Benrey's endgame is, here. So it just leaves Gordon feeling off-kilter. Uncertain. A little hot in the face.

> Benrey's eyes flick up like a lizard that's spotted its next meal when he hears Gordon's words, conveniently at the same time as he finds the latch with his nail. The armor on his upper arm falls away with a clonk and his fingers move down to the much-easier-to-remove gloves and wrist pieces, which come undone with a light twist and an even lighter yank. But his gaze isn't even looking at what he's doing, instead resting on the back of Gordon's hair, now wet with sweat and the dampness of his own breath.

> His skin is raised up in little bumps, and so are his hackles. Something bright and violet and base, fluorescent, builds at the back of Benrey's tongue, and he swallows it down. He has to focus, keep his composure. Get the other arm with a few quick clicks, fingers now more adventurous than they were before. The pads trail across Gordon's back, the undersuit bunching with his touch, pressing into his side for no reason other than the urge to feel. Then, when the second arm is freed, he remembers he forgot the boots.

> "Not being weird," Benrey protests as he wrangles Gordon in his grip, sighing heavily as he pinches him lightly in his grasp and rolls him in his hand like some kind of trinket. Until they're face to face once again and Gordon is flat on his back in his palm. He takes a moment to idly scratch his chin before reaching for the metal encasing his lower legs and feet.

> "Not weird to, uh, help a bro out. Be a friend. Friends call friends cute. All the time. Every day. S'pre... pre-requi... prere..." He pauses and stills and, then, with unwarranted confidence, forces the word out and continues fiddling. "It's pre-registered to, uh, do that. Yeah."

Blunt fingers at his arm, his back, his sides, prodding and rolling him around - each investigatory touch makes Gordon cognizant of just how much he's holding his breath. Until Benrey manhandles him into laying flat on his back, that is. A startled noise bursts out of him, and then Gordon's looking straight up at Benrey, with nowhere to go to escape him. Even without a hand pinning him down, he can't help but feel like he's stuck in place, anyway.

At least Gordon can sit up on his elbows a little. Less like he's some kind of specimen that way. And he lets Benrey fiddle with the boots, the strange feeling that curls in his stomach easing up on him the longer Benrey messes with something other than his soft, fleshy, vulnerable bits. He lets out a shaky breath of... relief. Let's go with that.

"IIII don't know about that," he says. "I'll be real with you, I'm not the kind of guy who does that... Uh. Well. Except there was that one time in high school? But it kind of weirded her out and she stopped talking to me."

Gordon pauses for a moment, brows wrinkling in thought. Then he shakes himself. "Anyway, that's not even the point. The point is," Gordon emphasizes, feeling like he's trying to present a convincing legal argument to a judge with all the size and breadth of (and possibly, the powers of) some ancient Greek god, "I think you have a, uh, tenuous grasp of what friendship entails, buddy. My friends don't call me cute."

As an afterthought, under his breath, he adds, "Nobody calls me cute." It comes out more bitter than he expects.

> The boots come off, one after another. The shin guards, too. Politely, Benrey scoops up all the miscellaneous pieces piled in his palm between his free fingers and puts them to rest next to the pool of... well, "water." Liquid. Something, though he's hard pressed to tell you exactly what it is. "The Bath."

> He listens as he does so, to Gordon squawking and muttering and saying, well, things. Things that he's not really listening to as he brings his hands back up to Gordon and tries to figure out where the zipper to the bodysuit is. Technically, he knows where it is, but his fingers are huge and the zippy-uppy part is so small, and he's prodding and poking with gentle strokes along Gordon's chest and belly where he saw the seam once-upon-a-time. He feels his nail click against the metal and it's... uh, well, it's aggravating.

> And Benrey isn't used to this kind of aggravation. Fuck's sake, he just wants to see some dic... ah. He just wants to help his best friend get a nice bath and feel better. Because he is a good guy who does good things like kill gun bugs for tiny dudes who can't shoot straight and not drive off with vehicles when Gordon leaves him alone. He's a good guy who doesn't want to be bad and--

> "Uh," he drawls, his mouth moving before he can really catch himself, "fuckin'... maybe people would call you cute if you, uh, weren't such a, uh, mean. So mean about it. Mean to me, just trying to say nices. To my best friend. Being such a good and a cool."

> His voice dies as he misses the zipper again. Fuck. When he speaks again, it darkens.

> "Please unzip suit? Please? Thank-you."

Soon enough Benrey's got him down to that reinforced bodysuit, the last piece of armor sliding off his hand with little resistance. Usually, this is where this process stops: Benrey gets him out of the armor, and Gordon fucks off and does whatever it is he needs to do. Change. Wash up. Sleep. The part where Benrey starts tugging at the fabric in search of the zipper? That's new. And it catches Gordon so unawares that he can't even speak.

That fingertip strokes him, almost, warm even through the black fabric, and a harsh breath whistles through Gordon's nose. It feels him up from his chest to his belly, a warm and insistent pressure. All the words in Gordon's brain get trapped in a mental sieve. In their place is a single, repeating thought:

Oh, God.

Benrey keeps trying, again and again, fingernails scraping uselessly against Gordon's belly. And his eyebrows furrow harder with the effort, frustration evident in his frown. And his fingers. Their grasping grows rough and imprecise and Gordon's trying so hard to bite his lip because there's an ugly noise threatening to punch his way out of him and Benrey's saying something to him that he can barely focus on and then finally, finally, he's giving up and pulling away. Christ.

It takes a moment for his mental fog to clear and for Benrey's words to sink in. Unzip? Himself? Oh, no. Somehow that's worse.

"Can you, like... give me some privacy, maybe?" Gordon complains.

He immediately feels stupid afterward. It trickles down from his scalp like something cold and slimy. So he clears his throat, and admits, begrudging, "I, uh... I'm not trying to be mean. It's been a long fucking day, okay? You're... uh... Well. Thanks. I guess. For trying to be nice."

There's a beat before the silence gets to be too uncomfortable, and Gordon hurriedly follows it up by saying, "Don't take this the wrong way. I think you could still use a few pointers on being 'nice' to 'humans', you know."

> "Wha?"

> In a second, the irritation is gone. Benrey's expression turns flat. He leans in close to Gordon and inhales deeply (yup, still smells like Gordon) and exhales just as hard.

> "I'm nice," he defends, eyes flicking down the pile of HEV parts on the island. "Fuckin', ah, Mother Tuh-ree-sah. You're the one who is bein'--"

> A pause. Nice. He was being nice, and he wasn't going to pick at Gordon. He wasn't going to point out that he was the one being snippy, while he was out here undressing him, and carrying him around, and getting ready to give him a bath, and maybe touch his--

> Wait.

> "Privacy?"

> The word tastes bad, real bad. The kind of bad that makes Benrey want to scrape his tongue off on his teeth. That isn't how they'd played these games before. Is this even still a game, though? Did "nice" contradict "games" too much? He isn't sure and he doesn't even give himself a chance to think about it as he nudges Gordon encouragingly with a finger and the words just start rolling out of his mouth.

> "No? No place to private at, bro. Maybe gonna have to just, ah, suck it up, friend. Besides--"

> Benrey leans forward on the island on his elbow, chin resting in his hand. As his body tilts, Gordon raises higher up due to his shifting of positions.

> "Can't, ah, can't not look. Dinosaurs and, uh, zombies out here. Ghosts. Gotta keep my eye on you. Safe-tee."

Safety. Right. As much as Gordon doesn't want to admit it, Benrey has a point. He's... vulnerable like this. And it would be just his luck that he gets beset by a peeper puppy with his dick hanging out. More to the point, he knows that it's stupid to develop a sense of modesty all of a sudden when Benrey's seen his dick before. It's just, you know, the size. The scrutiny.

Heat lodges itself in Gordon's face and makes a home there as Benrey brings him all the closer. As if to see him better. "Dinosaurs and zombies," he snorts. He can't believe that's the justification Benrey's giving him. And he can't believe he's buying it.

"Just... fucking, okay. Don't stare, at least," Gordon tells him, as if it will help.

The zipper's nestled in the seam at his neck, right in the center. Gordon fishes it out with shaky fingers. And then, slowly, he drags it down his front.

As he does, his flesh starts to spill from the suit in a creamy sliver. He's paler underneath, skin shielded from the sun for so long that his characteristic tan has all but faded. Consequences of running around in a HEV suit in the middle of Bulgaria. The rattle of the zipper rings in Gordon's ears, louder than life. First his chest, then his stomach, prickling with goosebumps in turn as they're revealed.

Finally, he pulls it down to its endpoint, just under his navel. Gordon's face burns with embarrassment.

> That... was easier than Benrey anticipated. Usually there's more resistance or, you know, playing involved whenever he asked Gordon to do something like that. Usually he had something a little more snide to say. Something in the air has changed, though, and he dimly wonders if maybe all of that advice he'd taken from the Resistors (Resistance? Transistors? Alyx, basically) has actually paid off.

> Learning how to human does, in fact, make interacting with Gordon easier.

> His pupils widen as he stares, mouth slightly agape, as more and more of Gordon's skin is revealed to him, a pretty porcelain color that looks incredibly soft and as delicate as a china doll. Usually he's darker, tanner; Benrey didn't know humans could change colors like that, but it's an interesting development and one that requires further investigation.

> So he leans closer, head tilted, watching the zipper come undone. Curiosity grips him as he gingerly reaches up and hooks his nails into the open edges of the suit and tugs, enough to jostle Gordon and peel away the wrapper but not enough to actually knock Gordon off his feet. As he does so, he ignores the sounds of protests, mouth opening wider and lifting in a sharkish grin.

> He's so pale now, but he's just as soft as Benrey remembers. Just as warm. Hair's still in all the right places, muscles in his arms growing visible as Benrey tugs the sleeves down, then the rest, leaving the top half of the bodysuit dangling from around his still-covered waist.

> He waits a moment, drinking in the sight. He could almost see his--

> No. No. No dick thinking, not now. No. He wasn't going to say anything because he was seriously just trying to be nice. And make Gordon shut up. And...

> And...

> "Cute."

> The word comes out while his brain is still arguing with himself. For a moment, he considers apologizing, or trying to pretend he never said it, but ultimately decides to stand by what he said.

> His eyes lift to rest on Gordon's face as he silently doubles down, waiting for a reply.

"Hey, careful," Gordon yelps, caught off-guard by fingers at the edges of his open suit. "You don't have to fucking-- Benrey, I can do this myself!" But there's no fighting him off before Benrey's tugging it down his shoulders, baring him from the waist up.

Impatient. That's the word that comes to mind. Benrey's itching to get him out of this thing, Gordon realizes. If it wasn't already obvious by that insistent scrape of nails against his jumpsuit, or the way Benrey's looking at him now, eyes wide and mouth parted. That heat in Gordon's cheeks crawls down to his chest. He's staring at Gordon like he's hungry, and all the pasty skin being revealed to him may as well be a juicy T-bone steak. Being half-naked ought to be making him pretty chilly in a place like this, but for some reason, it feels way too fucking hot right now.

Thankfully, Benrey stops there, which gives him a moment to get his bearings. On the other hand, Benrey's calling him fucking cute again, and Gordon was having a bad enough time handling that earlier. Now? Jesus, the guy's barely paying attention to him. Mumbling it like it's an afterthought. He doesn't know what it means.

"I-- I'm not fucking cute, dude, we already established this," he insists, doing his level best not to meet Benrey's stare. Gordon folds his arms, irritable and flushed a bright red. "I'm too mean or whatever. I got the picture. You don't have to keep fucking with me."

> Oh, he's changing colors again. Red now, from the tips of his ears down to his chest, and Benrey snorts a laugh. Of course humans can change colors. He'd seen him do this before. A few times actually.

> But he's just turning red, and being snippy, and he's not making a move to take off the rest of the suit. Benrey's eyes flick from Gordon to the water and, with a low chuckle, he decides to take the cue. Which... was a cue, right? He's pretty sure it's a cue, but humans were weird to begin with and Gordon was odder than most.

> Has to be a cue, he decides after a moment of silence wherein Gordon doesn't budge. He grabs the draping top of the suit and gently peels it downwards towards Gordon's feet, watching it pull away from sweaty, dirty skin. Watching it expose dark curls of hair just below his stomach, and watching Gordon's dick spill out into the open air. Benrey's teeth dig into his lips as he watches, even as his hands move clumsily to strip the rest of the rubbery material off of his legs.

> He's touched that before. Wants to touch it again, wants to say something about it. But he can't because apparently it was bad form to say shit about your best bro's average-but-good meat when he wasn't specifically asking, or at least that's what his stupid, skinny doppelganger had said and--

> God. Wait. No. He shakes his head. Best to focus on anything else.

> What else had the Resist-y Squad said? To listen? Humans liked listening? Even when they were being bitchy little drama-snots?

> Then he should... listen, right? But... what had Gordon said? He wasn't actually paying attention. He furrows his brow and his stare intensifies as he tries to piece together enough of the words he did hear to paint a picture. It takes a moment, but soon, it clicks.

> Oh. Yeah. Not cute. Blah, blah. Something, something "mean."

> Benrey's mouth snaps shut as he struggles to tear his eyes away from Gordon's cock, instead keeping a trained eye on his face. His mind is a machine running on fumes with rattling parts, but he struggles through the distraction. He's going to be reassuring. He's a good friend.

> "Uh... yeah? Mean? Cute? You can be both. Bratty little, ah, Gordon Meanman with his nice... cute. Cute little hog."

> The words come out before he can stop them.

> Goddammit.

Oh, God, okay, so none of what he said got through, clearly. He squawks out as much. Gordon's mind spins into overdrive as Benrey manifestly does not let him take care of it himself, instead peeling the jumpsuit clean off his hips and legs and exposing him from top to bottom. His heart thunders in his chest, and he presses his legs tightly together in a futile attempt at modesty.

"My-- my cute little-- Jesus Christ, Benrey, you can not say shit like like that!" Gordon snaps. He jams his hands between his legs to cover himself, humiliation boiling over.

Fucking Benrey. Always saying the worst possible shit, the most embarrassing shit. Gordon thinks this as furiously as he can, because if he acknowledges that there's anything other than purestrain embarrassment and indignation at play, he's gonna snap like a twig. That's all it is. He's a normal guy, and normal guys don't feel their dicks twitch when their best friend calls their dick cute. And... little. That's worse. Much worse.

The thing that Gordon's still failing to understand is why Benrey's still calling him cute. Yeah, it gets his goat, but it's not like Benrey was in the habit of pulling this shit before. And... And Gordon doesn't know why it's getting to him so much, either.

The first time seemed like a prank. A bad joke. The second time, an accident. And the third - fourth - fifth? The times after that, he's not sure anymore. But each time it gets his skin burning hotter and his heart skipping a beat and Gordon's still pissed off but he's not sure exactly why. (Well, in the general sense. This time, it's because Benrey's straight up insulting his dick, thank you.)

"Why did I even agree to this," he moans, head hanging between his shoulders. "Everything's always gotta be a big fucking ordeal for Gordon. You know what, just put me down if you're gonna-- gonna make fun of my meat or whatever! I'll get myself a bath and then we can go and forget this ever happened."

> There is something about the way Gordon fusses at him that makes Benrey's heart skip a beat, though it also awakens something in the back of his mind that he's been consciously trying to tamp down. The urge to pick at him grows as large as his smile as he hooks two fingers under Gordon's arms and lifts him up and out of his palm like a claw in a skill crane. Words dance on the tip of his tongue, ones better fit for a schoolyard bully, and he rumbles a dark laugh as he contemplates what to say.

> It seems the crack about his hog got him all worked up in a delicious sort of way, judging from the way he's still bright crimson and his dick seems appreciative of Benrey's attention. He could double down on that. Then again, he was supposed to be nice in this situation, wasn't he? He'd been doing so good up until this point, and he could imagine the Resist-y People would be proud if they could see him now.

> But the reaction. It's... it's good. Seeing Gordon's dick twitch, seeing him bright as a tomato, seeing him sweating and nervously dodging his gaze. All were signs that he was interested, that he may just be thinking the same things Benrey has been trying not to think and... fuck, them's good thoughts. Great thoughts.

> Maybe there's a line to walk between. Play the game and still be "nice." Benrey wets his lips and huffs a sweet-scented laugh into Gordon's face, before gently lowering him into the water. The surface of the pool practically sparks as Gordon's bare feet make contact, and a shimmering azure mist billows into the air.

> "Nuh-uh. Nope," Benrey replies with a pop of the p. "You're, uh, tired. Gonna, y'know, get you sparkly. Clean. Squeaky. Pretty. Make you feel so good you'll, uh, wanna buy BFF necklaces after."

> Once Gordon is nestled in the pool, he leans down close and presses down on his shoulders to urge him into a seated position.

> "'Sides, ah. Not making fun. S'nice. Cute. Fun size."

> Emphasis on "fun," Benrey thinks, and his smile widens.

A tingle effervesces across Gordon's skin as Benrey slowly lowers him into the water, something like carbonation but not quite. For one, bubbles aren't nucleating on him so much as drifting toward the surface, sluggish and small. But the effect is as curiously refreshing as a cold glass of Pepsi.

In contrast, the water itself is warm and clear, and the humidity fogs up his glasses in short order. Makes it hard to see Benrey before he's firmly suggesting that Gordon sit down. With his hand. He's not expecting it, and he sinks to his knees with a splash and a quiet "whoa, shit".

Gordon rights himself, sitting back against the edge of the pool. And he opens his mouth to say-- well, something, you know, there was a lot to unpack in whatever the fuck Benrey just said to him, but he barely gets it out before Benrey's talking over him.

Cute. Fun size.

"Stop, okay, just stop talking about my meat! Can we please move on? Any other topic?" He crosses his arms in front of his face.

This is, it's too fucking much, okay, there's-- it's just-- the word was already starting to crawl under his skin, and he's just an average American male! You're not supposed to say this shit to another dude! And you're not supposed to, fucking, swallow and shudder when you hear that shit, either. Not supposed to like being talked down to like that. By... by such a big guy. Who probably does think he's a fun size right now. Probably wants to...

Gordon splashes his face with water. Then he takes off his glasses after the fact, feeling like an idiot. See, this is why he's got to get Benrey to knock it off. Too much. Gets him lost in his own head. Gets his blood pumping. And the last thing he wants is to embarrass himself by looking a gift horse in the mouth, getting a boner when Benrey's just trying to do him a solid.

Well. At least that's what he's saying he's doing. The jury's still out on that one. But either way, the most likely outcome is that Benrey never lets him live it down, and Gordon doesn't know if he can handle the psychological devastation right now. So.

"Here, look, I'll even... okay, so, what is this stuff, anyway? It feels like I'm taking a bath in a... a hot energy drink. But like, in a good way?" He cups some in his hand and lets it spill through his fingers. "Last time I jumped in this stuff, I think it fixed a bone. Is that normal? Weirdest fucking thing I ever felt, man."

> "I 'unno," Benrey answers honestly. Because, well, he doesn't know what this stuff is. Even if he knows a lot about Xen (and would be hard-pressed to tell you exactly how he knows these things), it's not like he knew much more than "this thing will eat you" and "this thing won't." All he knows is that these pools feel good and smell good and do things that are good, and could more than likely get Gordon clean. Make him have a more agreeable scent than the already agreeable people-odor he's already wearing.

> The Gordon smell. It's... a nice smell.

> "It's water. Uh. Bubbles." Benrey dips his fingertips in the pool to wet them and feels the curious, sparkling sensation around his skin; it's warm and cold and fizzy and, honestly? Yeah, kind of refreshing. Like caffeinated Pop Rocks or something. He dimly wonders what it tastes like, but ultimately decides not to drink the bath water.

> "Doesn't matter. You're thinking a lot. About wrong things. Need to focus on, uh, getting you ready. For the ball. Gordo-rella." He pauses, scowling. That was bad even for him. Quickly, he recovers, as if it never happened. "So, quiet? Please? Relax?"

> With that, Benrey extends one wet finger and presses against Gordon's chest, as carefully as he can, working in the glittering water and scrubbing gingerly at his chest hair. He works his muscles with a care he didn't know he possessed, and then maneuvers to his shoulders. He feels Gordon's muscles loosening underneath his touch and it makes him feel... accomplished.

> But his eyes keep straying down, down into the water where Gordon's dick should be, obscured by bubbles and blue. And he exhales, fighting the urge to press a button, to raise him up and see if it's still twitching in anticipation, wondering if he'll see it break the surface and greet him.

> Benrey's eyes screw shut and his fingers still as he takes a moment to force himself to be, as Gordon would say, "normal." It is a foreign feeling.

> He is not a fan.

"G-Gordo-rella?" Gordon bursts out laughing despite himself. "That's so bad, I know you can do better than that!" And the funny thing is, he does know. Benrey's got jokes. He's... good at making Gordon laugh. Even when he's clearly phoning it in.

The laughter sets him at ease for the first time since they'd set out the day before. And when Benrey reaches out to start scrubbing, Gordon flinches, but does as Benrey suggests and eventually relaxes into it.

Benrey's strangely quiet as he does it. Doesn't make any dumb quips. Doesn't start talking about video games or whatever. So Gordon doesn't feel inclined to break the silence, either. The meaner part of him insists that it's just because he doesn't want to set Benrey off on some dipshit tangent, but the truth is, it's kind of nice. The quiet. Even if it's bordering on surreal. All he can hear is the quiet sound of Benrey washing his skin, dipping his fingers into the water. His breathing, measured but heavy. And the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his chest.

The bath itself isn't half-bad, either. He didn't expect Benrey to be this... careful. Not a word Gordon really associates with the guy. But Benrey's fingers work his muscles in tight circles, slow and firm, washing off however many days of sweat and dirt and blood, and Gordon's finds himself melting a little. Letting his eyes drift shut.

He groans when Benrey works his thumb into his back just right, dislodging a knot in the muscle he wasn't even aware of until it was gone. "Oh my God, how did you do that," Gordon breathes.

> Oh. Oh.

> That noise was a... nice one. A pleasant one. One that makes Benrey hesitate for a second and lose his smile before quickly regaining it and pretending he'd never misplaced it in the first place. And he figures Gordon likely didn't notice--his human can't see without the glasses--so he says nothing as he dips his fingers yet again and massages into Gordon's shoulders, exploring every inch and feeling how bizarre every groove and curve is underneath the pad of his finger.

> It's odd, but not a bad odd. The kind of odd that requires further investigation because, while he's had his hands on Gordon before, this feels different. Better, even, in some ways. Motivated by equal parts curiosity and mounting desire, he continues to glide across Gordon's skin and work his muscles and feel them loosen and pause to take in the rapid thudding of Gordon's tiny, tiny pulse against his skin.

> Benrey swallows the Sweet Voice pooling in the back of his mouth. He gags. He coughs into his shoulder. His voice breaks a bit as his normally flat demeanor begins to falter amid a mob of intrusive thoughts that march right into his brain like little soldiers.

> "Can do it 'cause 'm not human. Got magic fingers. Call now. For $19.99, we'll throw in a second one free," Benrey recites, but his eyes are still looking for a hint of cock. But not just that--

> "Limited time offer. Supplies going fast. Better, uh, pick up that phone."

> -- his chest, bits of leg sticking out of the water, that pretty neck, that long hair--

> "Call in, uh, next fifteen minutes and I'll... uh..."

> --that stomach, slightly soft around the middle, and arms that were too strong for somebody of his persuasion--

> "Uh."

> -- every inch that HEV suit wouldn't let him see. Gordon would look so much better in something more... breezy. Clingy. Revealing.

> "Fuck," he says breathily. Something roils inside him, and a lot of it is unfortunately roiling below the belt. So much for subtlety. So much for "nice."

Benrey keeps scrubbing, keeps rubbing his sore muscles between thumbs and index fingers, and it takes a conscious effort for Gordon not to doze off. Even the prickling of fizzy bubbles against his skin fights an upward battle to keep him awake. It's just, he's been on the go for way too long, now, and days of tension are leaching out of him, and Benrey's, like, weirdly good at this. For once, Gordon doesn't have to be thinking about parallel universes and the end of the fucking world or whatever. Somebody else can do the thinking for him.

And then he starts rambling about magic fingers like he's hosting some kind of infomercial and Gordon's laugh comes easier and harder than it has any right to. But Benrey's trailing off now, distracted. Swearing under his breath. Gordon blinks open his eyes and glances up at him.

Despite his lack of glasses, Benrey's big enough (and close enough) that Gordon can make out most of his expression, even if it's fuzzy and indistinct. His mouth hangs open a little, and his brows are knotted up under the cast shadow of his helmet. Like he's thinking about something.

"Free shipping?" Gordon finishes his joke for him. Benrey must have lost his train of thought again. Gordon's mostly used to it... mostly.

He shrugs and rolls his shoulders from side to side, grunting and making small, quiet noises as he stretches. Man, that feels good. There must be something in the water, even if Benrey was, as usual, unhelpful as to what.

Finally, Gordon decides to tug out the band from his hair, spilling it loose over his shoulders. He snaps it around his wrist for safekeeping, then runs his hands through his hair to shake it out.

"Uh. While we're at it. Think you could get my hair later? Like, I don't know where you got the soap from, but I'm assuming you can just, like, magic up some conditioner or something, too."

> Benrey doesn't know how to tell Gordon he didn't actually have soaps. He said so, but he... he didn't. If not for Gordon pointing out that he could "magic" some up, he might have been really stuck, but with a quick shake of his head to bring himself back to his senses, his face lights up once more with a teasing smile and his tone eases back into his typical taunting monotone.

> "Uh. Yeahs. Soaps and, uh, condo-stuff. Got'cha."

> There is a flash of green as he lifts his hand above him (in a dramatic way that he hopes is as cool and impressive as it looks in his head), and feels something slimy manifest in his hands. Slimy and, well, scented like a Glade plug-in. Like flowers and "summer breezes" and things that are a lot more Earth-y than the Sweet Voice. It's a nice color, too, but one that doesn't match how he feels it should look, because it smells more like blue than it does white and...

> ... You know what? It doesn't matter.

> Benrey dips a fingertip in the soap like a child about to paint and, tongue poking out between his teeth once more, sets to work giving Gordon a once-over yet again. He hopes that maybe Gordon won't notice or point out the fact he hadn't even used soap in the first place, as distracted as he was, and just accept the fact that Benrey is once more rubbing his shoulders, his chest, his arms, his legs. Lifting up limbs and maneuvering them to get into hard-to-reach places. Pushing a little firmer than before to feel for that fluttering pulse.

> God, his own heart is beginning to match it beat for beat.

> "Yeah," Benrey mutters at long last as his tongue darts back into his mouth, "I can. Do that. Get your hair."

> His hair. His hair is so pretty when it's down, already having grown out after he cut it in the Bad Ending World. Silky and nice with bits of gray that make him look like he's as smart as he thinks he is--

> No, no. Nice. Nice. He is grappling with the idea of being nice!

> "Get your hair with, uh, real shit. Good shampoo. Actual soaps and stuff that ain't, uh, the stuff. Your stuff. Head and Shoulders. Make you look real good, real nice. Nice for m--uh."

> He pauses. He snaps his mouth shut. He pauses over Gordon's body and thinks for a moment. He wants to say it, he wants to tease and pick and make Gordon flush bright red and play their stupid goddamn game, but now isn't the time. He doesn't think so, at least? Maybe it is?

> Does Gordon think it is? He hopes so, but he doesn't know how to tell. And, apparently, humans didn't like it when their alien best friends played games they didn't want to play.

> "... Mandatory hair inspection," he recovers. "Black Mesa, uh, protocol. Already fucked up the passport. Don't... don't fuck up hair day."

Blood doesn't so much rush to Gordon's face as it crawls, moving as sluggishly as his mind does, processing this. He knows what Benrey was gonna say before he snapped his mouth shut like a mousetrap. Gordon swore he could even hear the teeth click.

Maybe he didn't actually say it, but Gordon's entire system reacts as though he has, because, fucking, he did! For all intents and purposes! A bright, prickling heat surges down his spine that has nothing to do with the water. Why does he talk like that?! Fucking cooing at him, like Benrey's taking some kind of sick pleasure in teasing him in the most embarrassing way possible... but that's about what Gordon expects at this point.

So why did he stop himself?

When Benrey marshals his voice into something more flat and toneless, Gordon frowns. He's... he's really trying, isn't he. Trying to do something decent without turning it into one of their fucked up little games. Some of the mental furniture rearranges itself in Gordon's head, pictures straightened and doorways unjammed.

Unfortunately, all the dusting and clearing in the world can't change the fact that the foundation in his head is wired to make him a paranoid little fucker. And Benrey's always playing some kind of 4th-dimensional chess with him, anyway, right? He's just being rational. Wary.

That said... he's already here. He might as well relax and deal with the consequences later. Especially when... oh.

Benrey's washing him in earnest, fingers pressing into him and manipulating him. They're all over him, probing him without direction, and now Gordon's not sure if "relaxed" is the best descriptor for himself. There's just, there's a lot of touching happening, and Benrey's hands are so, so big, and Gordon can just make out the tip of Benrey's tongue poking through his teeth and something about that intense focus - on him - makes Gordon's breathing go shallow.

Christ. He can't-- He shouldn't think about this. This is the kind of sick shit that only happens in his head, not in real life. Gordon's just a normal guy with something very wrong with him, and that "something" makes him more prone than most to awful little fantasies, intrusive thoughts.

That's all this is. There's gotta be something wrong with him to want somebody ten times his size to touch him like this, but in, like, a horny way. Like some kind of freakjob doing gross shit with an action figure. Maybe it doesn't make him a bad person. So long as he keeps it to himself. He'll keep all his weird little fantasies right next to his heart, and then he'll die. That's that.

It's almost over, Gordon tells himself furiously, willing his blood to stop rushing to his dick and his stomach to stop coiling with heat. If he can just focus, he can will his boner down before he has to get out of the pool and then Benrey will be none the wiser.

"Okay, first of all, I didn't fuck up the passport," Gordon blusters, in an attempt to power through it. "I never needed one before! If anything, I think you fucked up, man. Never told me about Black Mesa Picture Day or whatever."

> Benrey's fingers do not pause as Gordon fusses at him, but his eyes can't stay focused on his own work. He's too busy watching Gordon's throat bob as he swallows around a lump, or how his blush is darkening and spreading. He's gauging the look in his eyes, looking for any indication that he can go ahead and make it weird, but--even though he's sweating and nervous and fidgety and acting just like he does when they're playing--Benrey is too nervous to make a move.

> And "nervous" wasn't a part of his vocabulary until that Alyx lady and Gordon's own downhill slide made it obvious that he actually had to think human to interact with humans. His human specifically.

> So, even though he sees the signs, he decides to bite his tongue. It is foreign, it is uncomfortable, and it's almost painful to choke down. To redirect his alien brain into more terrestrial channels. To try to figure out what a human person would do in his situation and, barring that, just continuing to do what he was supposed to be doing in the first place.

> Bathing Gordon.

> "Shouldn't have to tell you. S'in the, ah, employee handbook. Welcome packet. Folder. Right next to Warhammer 401k and, uh, ensure-ants."

> He cups a small amount of water in his palm and trickles it over Gordon's body, watching it drain down his form in sparkling rivulets. They trace his contours, weaving into every nook and cranny and crease that Benrey couldn't reach, and he watches them with an intensity that even he can feel. A warmth in his gut, a twitch of his dick. His tongue laps at his lips like a hungry animal; he wants to lick every droplet off of Gordon and explore ever inch of him as thoroughly as the bathwater.

> But... no. No, no. He's normal. He's normal and human and he's being nice, and Gordon hasn't said anything so he's going to close his eyes, huff angrily, and then continue on his merry way.

> "Everyone knows about, uh, Hair Inspection Day. And Passport Inspection. You, ah, you're just... uh."

> Benrey breathes heavily out of his nose as his eyes lock on Gordon yet again. Staring up at him, red-faced. Hair now adhered to his skin from the water. Chest heaving. He reaches out in spite of himself and presses a fingertip to Gordon's torso once more, feeling that rapid pulse and feeling it rise and fall with each breath. Knowing he could make Gordon's heart race faster and really put his lungs to work.

> He wants to feel him pant, wants to hear each heavy breath accompanied with his name and...

> No. God, it's getting so fucking hard to resist the game, but Benrey is good! Good for his best friend! He's learned and he's going to stay good. He's just being nice. He can be nice without being--

> "Missed a spot," Benrey lies as he pulls his finger away. He pretends to rinse Gordon off once more and sputters a cough. "Now, let's get those, ah, locks. Clean and brushed. Shiny. Barbie Girl, Barbie World, am I right?"

Gordon ducks his head instinctively as Benrey douses him with water, shielding his face. There's a huff from above him, and then another, breath hot and heavy on Gordon's neck. The closest comparable experience is... it's like being trapped under some kind of big fucking animal. A bear, maybe, snorting at the nape of his neck before it decides to eat him. Violently.

Cool. He loves thoughts like that. A pleasant reminder that they don't exactly carry fucking risperidone in the aftermath of a fascist takeover.

He shakes his head again to rid himself of it, then looks at Benrey in surprise when he presses a fingertip to his chest. It just rests there, warm and steady. Not pulling or pinching or shoving or any of the things Gordon expects. Gears whir to life in his head. Benrey's being-- he's being kind of fucking weird, but not in the ways Gordon's grown accustomed to, and when he's spent the entirety of their working relationship trying to get his sea legs, it throws him off just as badly when the boat stops rocking.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but it's not just Barbies who have to wash their hair," Gordon snorts at him. "You got me all worried now, man, I don't even know if you know the basics. It's shampoo, then conditioner, okay?"

After a moment, he slicks his hair back out of his face, too. For good measure. "And try not to get it in my eyes, either... Actually, uh, I'm kind of having second thoughts about this. Maybe you should just let me handle it. No offense."

> "Know what I'm doin'. I got hair. Nice hair. Better than... uh, Mr. 2-in-1," Benrey protests, masking the sudden wave of panic that just roiled up inside of him. Just the idea of not touching Gordon is too much, and he inwardly crinkles at the thought of missing his chance to feel his human again. And again. And again. Petting and scrubbing and massaging and imagining what it would be like to get Gordon close enough to his face that he could taste him.

> But... he can't do that. He's not allowed. This isn't The Game. This is A Nice Favor for His Person and, well, he's got to be normal. And chill. And calm. And this is all really too fucking hard.

> However, as long as he plays by the rules, he still gets a chance to touch Gordon, and he supposes that is a small victory. It's what spurs him on to press his thighs together and shift his weight to hide his burgeoning boner behind the Xenian island so that Gordon can't be alarmed or scandalized or angry or accusatory. It's what prompts him to summon from the ether, yet again, a new supply of nice-smelling soaps and an equally pleasant conditioner that still don't match the color his brain tells him they should be.

> And, with fangs pressed into his bottom lip, he dips his finger into the shampoo freshly spawned in his palm and swirls it gently, watching as Gordon regards him with a mixture of curiosity and what he hopes isn't disdain. He's been working so hard to try to not make the guy angry, and he's struggling not to slip.

> Slowly, he drips a dollop of soap onto Gordon's head--towards the back, since he is honestly trying to obey the request not to blind him--followed by a few drops of glittering, warm water. He monitors the way Gordon's expression changes as he presses against his head as gently as he can and begins to work it into a lather.

> It's... nice. It's not the usual rough stuff and bullying he's used to, but there is something undeniably pleasant about watching Gordon melt into his touch as he works, careful and light, his body rocking with the movements in a way that makes Benrey feel both strangely aroused and, well... warm. As warm as the pool of water, all on the inside like a badly heated burrito. It's new, and uncomfortable, but not unwelcome, and he savors it by trying to make the moment stretch.

> From the scalp and downwards, until his finger is stroking the side of Gordon's cheek and reaching under his chin as if trying to tilt his head up for a kiss he was way too big to give. Like a true romantic that he knew, in his gut, he wasn't actually anywhere close to being. But it felt right, and the dazed and pleasant look in Gordon's eyes shatter the alien armor around his heart in one powerful blow.

> Benrey swallows hard and says nothing. He just scrubs and stares. And scrubs. And stares.

> Slow, precise, delicate circles. Enjoying the moment, and buying time as he tries to untangle this utterly alien knot of feelings that is twisting around in his gut. Feelings he isn't sure he understands or particularly wants, but addictive all the same.

"Oh, that's kinda nice, actually," Gordon mumbles distantly, as Benrey starts to lather up his hair.

It's impressive, honestly, just how delicate Benrey's capable of being when he puts his mind to it. The pressure's firm enough that it feels good against his scalp, but he's not being knocked around or given a headache or anything. It's... pleasant. His eyes drift shut again, now that he's pretty sure Benrey's got the hang of it.

That finger slips lower, lower, stroking the side of Gordon's jaw, and Gordon leans into it. Lets him work soap into the underside of his facial hair. (And that's nice, too. It's the kind of thing he figured Benrey would miss.) And if Benrey rubs a bit slower, tilts his head up just a little so that Gordon has to peer up at him through slowly-blinking eyes, well, he's not going to complain.

Benrey's eyes are so big, so close to his and so intently focused that-- that he's sweating a little, just visible at the edge of Gordon's vision. Gordon's heart beats faster, and a strange tension begins to wind itself tight in him. It's like Benrey's trying to scan him. All that attention focused directly on him gins up butterflies in his stomach.

Gordon's suddenly hit by the awareness that nobody's done anything like this for him in a long, long time. Maybe ever. And here he is, letting his frenemy (best frenemy, whispers an annoying little voice that sounds suspiciously like Benrey) scrub him clean. Take care of him. How in the fuck did he end up here? And, more importantly, why is he so comfortable with this? This is the guy who got his arm cut off, not, fucking, not his live-in girlfriend. That broke up with him a couple years ago, citing the fact that he was "a puffed-up MIT asshole". Whatever. Details.

After a long stretch of silence, Gordon breaks it by saying, "I, uh, I think that's good. Yeah. Lemme just..."

And he pushes Benrey's finger away before ducking his head under the water, hoping Benrey doesn't notice the way his voice cracks.

> It... almost feels like he's being spurned when his finger is pushed away. There's a quaver in Gordon's voice and he isn't sure if it's nerves or rejection. In an instant, a long-dormant part of Benrey's brain flares to life, leaving him mentally bouncing theories as to why his person had sounded so off. It could have been that he was having the same sorts of thoughts Benrey had been having the whole time, or it could have been that he had done something wrong. Getting advice on how to handle Gordon came with the unpredictable side effect of giving him a lot to worry about in terms of "boundaries" and "behaving," which he honestly wasn't comfortable or keen on dealing with.

> These insecurities melt away as he watches Gordon duck under the water, however. It creates a hiccup in the system, a blue screen that necessitates a reboot. There's something distracting about the way his back arches forward, muscles moving, head dipping beneath the surface. On his knees, ass lifting up slightly so he has a touch more leverage. Hair floating to the top, and then clinging tightly to his skin as he emerges with a gasp and throws his head back and slicks it out of his face and...

> ... His face is dripping. Sopping. Water trailing from his mouth and down his beard. Running down his temples, his cheeks. Like sweat. Like... something else.

> "Holy shit," Benrey mutters with the barest hint of voice. He pauses, he tries to think of something to say that would mask the fact he's not being "normal," and he's been playing The Game the whole time, regardless of what he's been telling himself. The hamster is running, the gears are whirring, but Windows is still updating and he's at a loss for anything better to say.

> So he doubles down. His voice grows louder.

> "Holy shit."

Gordon winches his eyes shut as he wipes water from them, slinging his hair back out of his face for good measure. God, he can feel how much less greasy it is now, and it's like taking off an itchy sweater for the first time. Makes him breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thanks, man, that's honestly really... uh..."

He slows to a stop, thrown off by Benrey muttering something. Almost inaudible. It gets him to crane his neck to look up at Benrey properly, about to ask, before Benrey says it again. Louder. Okay, yeah, he did catch that right the first time, huh.

Even though he's out of focus, Gordon can still see how wide his eyes are. How slack his face is. He doesn't need the finer details to notice Benrey's hand hovering in midair, like he's been interrupted in the middle of a thought. Staring at him like... like...

Heat crashes over Gordon in a violent wave, from the crown of his head to the pit of his belly. He's not even-- he's not even doing anything. He's sopping wet, and he can't fucking stand the way his hair looks when it's laying flat and slick against his head like this, and he can't exactly hide all the unseemly scars and and stretch marks and soft spots and all the other issues he's poked at in the mirror time and time again. (He had a growth spurt as a teenager, okay, and stretching him out an extra foot and a half so quickly didn't give his skin a lot of time to adapt.)

In short, he feels more naked and exposed now, half-covered by the foamy surface of this shallow pool, than he did when Benrey had him in his palm with his entire dick out. And it makes Gordon fucking throb under the surface of the water.

He's gotta be making fun of me, Gordon desperately tells himself. Defense mechanism. It's not working as well as it usually does, and he subconsciously presses his thighs tighter together.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips, suddenly dry despite the water carding down his face.

"What," starts Gordon. But he doesn't know where to take that question, and it dies as quick as it came.

> Game over. It's done. Benrey's used his final life and lost it in a valiant attempt to beat the final boss, but now he's gawking down at Gordon who is gawking right back up at him with a tell-tale look on his face that makes Benrey almost positive that he's playing just as hard. His own breath quickens as once complicated thoughts congeal into something more comfortable, something more streamlined, something more natural.

> Something that Alyx would have been disappointed to hear, especially after how good he had been doing.

> He inhales sharply through his nose and leans in close, the air coming back out at a low laugh as his mouth twists into a hungry grin. A finger extends and he presses it against the side of Gordon's face, an almost loving stroke. He can feel a burst of heat in his cheeks and he knows, glasses or not, that Gordon can probably see how red he's getting. He shifts his legs as he floats beside the island, trying to accommodate a cock that is now frighteningly hard and twitching against his stomach.

> "What 'what?'" Benrey asks, his voice monotonous but still somehow teasing. "Can't a bro, uh, admire his bro? Have a look-see? Look nice. Pretty."

> His finger drops to the water and stirs it a bit, creating a roil of bubbles that send a pleasant, tingling sensation up his hand, his arm. It seems to travel straight to his heart, which is pounding furiously in his chest.

> "You, uh... you good? Need anymore help? Getting clean? Hard to reach places?"

> A pause. He feels his stomach twist into knots. This has never really happened before while playing this game, but it's powerful. Makes him feel desperate. Needy. Makes him feel guilty and he hates it because he never feels guilty.

> As quickly as the mask breaks, he picks up the pieces and puts them back together. He slides it back on. He takes a deep breath, fumbling with his words.

> "Want to, uh... pla... pretty? Want to pretty? Want best friend Benrey to make you, uh, cleaner? Prettier? Help you? Please? Thank-you."

Two paths emerge before Gordon. On the one, well-worn and well-lit, he would tell Benrey, "No thanks, I'm good," and he would tell Benrey to turn around so he can dry off and crawl back into the jumpsuit. And then he would let Benrey fit him in the armor again, trying his best to ignore those fingers on his skin, and later he would duck away and jerk himself raw thinking about it. Swearing at himself. Wishing he could be normal for once in his fucking life and not develop questionable new fantasies about the one guy who's as out of place in this world as he is.

On the other, bracketed by brambles and dark, uncharted woods, Gordon would... He would...

He'd get it through his head that he's not the only little fucking weirdo in this relationship. That Benrey keeps staring at him like that for a reason.

And that Benrey's trying so fucking hard to play nice because... well... Gordon hasn't wrapped his head around that one yet, but he has his suspicions. Some of them more worrying than others. But the point is, Benrey's not taking the bait. He's got Gordon in a highly vulnerable position, and he could be pushing Gordon around if he wanted, playing their little game and driving him up the wall.

But he isn't. He keeps choking it back. It's unsettling. Gordon doesn't know how to handle it. He kind of wishes, in the back of his mind, that Benrey would tack on his 'schoolyard bully' demeanor again. At least that Gordon understands on some level. Push, pull, tussle.

And most unsettling of all is that downright tender way that Benrey drags a finger along his cheek. Anxiety thrums to life in Gordon's blood. No, no, that's not-- This is weird. This is so weird. There's something roiling and ugly churning in his stomach, and he doesn't like it one bit. He's not coping with it, he needs to-- to wrangle this situation, get some control over it, steer it back to familiar territory.

And in doing so, Gordon floors it directly into the woods.

He looks back at Benrey, taking in the hot flush crawling up his skin. The awkward shifting. I'm not the only freak here, Gordon reminds himself, blood pounding in his ears.

So he shifts himself. Sits back, draws his legs up so that his knees peek out of the water. Lets them fall to the sides, just a little. And he says, tucking a strand of wet hair behind his ear,

"What, and you're not even gonna-- That's some low-hanging fruit you're leaving on the vine. Startin' to get worried about you, man. You haven't gone this long without making fun of me in... uh, ever."

> Wait. Was that...?

> Was that admission?

> Benrey's pupils grow wide at the words, and his smile threatens to falter as he feels the cogs creaking inside of his head. Connecting the dots with all the newfound information he has on human people is like doing the advanced science stuff Gordon seemed to believe he was so special for knowing. There's emotional equations, rechecking the data, counter-arguments for every theory he comes up with, but in the end a little lightbulb flickers to life. The lights are on, somebody is home, and by god does that somebody want to play ball already.

> Benrey's finger stills on Gordon's cheek and he feels an uncharacteristic lump grow in his throat as his face grows redder and sweat beads at his brow. That weird emotion that once wrapped itself around its siblings, Worry and Guilt, finally cut itself loose and tangles itself in his stomach. He doesn't like it--it's too warm, and it's not the horny kind of heat that he's used to--but he allows it to stay. It feels like it may turn into something good if he just lets it incubate.

> "Uh, what? Not gonna... huh?"

> Benrey's voice cracks just like Gordon's had a moment before. He pretends it never happened and seamlessly continues.

> "Not gonna, ah, make fun of you. Gonna... gonna pick that fruit, though."

> His finger trails down Gordon's chin, down his neck, across his shoulders, down his chest. It rests dangerously low on his belly, threatening to dip lower. He grins at Gordon, leans in close, and huffs a laugh that's less malicious than it is honestly amused with its own cleverness.

> "Uh, get it? Fruit? Picked? You're, ah, you're the fruit, bro."

> A pause.

> "Laugh, please."

Gordon swallows, hard. The implications hit him like a bowling ball. That somebody's dropping on him. Maybe from an overpass or something. He's spinning out a little, alright, and losing his grip on the metaphor.

Benrey's fingertip leaves goosebumps in its wake, and his breathing goes shallow as the nail lightly catches on the crook of his neck. Lower, lower, slipping just below the surface of the water to rest on his belly, and Gordon thanks every deity he can imagine (and some he can't) that the bubbles hide... well. This, feeling it throb where it lies heavy against his hip.

Despite himself, he does actually laugh when Benrey prompts it. It comes out high and way louder than he intended, but still. Now that's a metaphor he's got a good grasp on, he thinks wildly. Oh, Christ.

"That's-- that's not really what I meant," Gordon tries to argue, but not with very much conviction. "But, uh, ha ha! Great joke! Fucking love jokes, man!"

> Benrey doesn't really hear what Gordon is saying. He does know that tone, though, from times they've played The Game before. It's a tone that speaks of permission, a sort of polite denial without the force. The kind of arguing that Benrey knows he can get away with ignoring because it's not sincere. Game talk. A challenge.

> Their own secret language of want.

> "Thank-you," Benrey purrs when Gordon forces a laugh, and his finger rubs a slow, slow circle into Gordon's stomach. He's sure Gordon notices when it bumps a bit too low, because he can feel something tell-tale just beneath the surface of the water. His grin grows at the realization that he was on the right track, tongue slipping out from between his teeth and running along his lips. A show, given to Gordon.

> A show he desperately wants Gordon to notice is meant for him. A tech demo. A promise.

> "But, uh... if that ain't what you meant. What did you mean? 'Cause you seem to be enjoyin' this, best friend."

A noise threatens to burst from Gordon's chest when Benrey starts to rub, slow and insistent, and grazes against-- Oh, God. But he clamps his lips tight, and all that escapes him is a harsh puff of air through his nose. He knows now, he knows, and it's written all over his face, a raised eyebrow and a smug smile and the slow, deliberate movement of his tongue over his lower lip.

It's fucking cartoonish, is what it is. Gordon should laugh. Gordon does laugh, again, another nervous little titter that doesn't communicate "amusement" so much as "flustered hysteria".

"I don't know," he blurts out, and it's the most honest thing he's said all day. "Fucking, God, I'm not-- This isn't what it looks like, okay, you just-- you keep looking at me like that, and I don't know what your fucking game is, man!"

He can't look at Benrey, not right now, not when he knows Benrey's looking at him like that, and so he looks down and oh, no, that's a bad idea. Because Benrey's still drawing tight little circles into his skin, unnervingly gentle. And so Gordon's eyes keep darting around, finding nowhere suitable to land.

At least Benrey's taking the bait. He's not doing that weird sappy shit anymore, and Gordon's in more familiar territory: the push and pull. The teasing. So he pulls harder, in hopes that Benrey will knock it off for good.

"If anybody's 'enjoying this', it's you, buddy! I'm just a, uh, innocent bystander, you know?"

> He doesn't sound convincing. There's fractures in his voice, and his words are stumbling like they fell down the stairs. He's looking everywhere but at Benrey, his face red and his eyes nervously darting from thing to thing to thing. But, in the end, they always come back to him, in one way or another.

> It's tells like this that let Benrey know that he's playing. The Game is afoot, he's been given the go-ahead. It's time to take the ball and run.

> "Uh-huh. Sure. Innocent. Lessee what you're hidin', bro."

> And with that, Benrey removes his finger from Gordon's stomach, instead parting his fingers into a V-shape and hooking Gordon underneath his arms. It's like a claw in a skill crane and, with a snort, he lifts Gordon out of the water. Naked, wet, and standing at attention from the looks of it; his human apparently had been playing along a lot longer than Benrey knew. He watches Gordon dangling a few feet from the pool at the end of his hand and smirks.

> But there's something different now, isn't there? Something Benrey sees in his human that makes that weird feeling he's been fighting twirl and twist. He's barely even noticing Gordon's boner more than he's looking at the way his hair is clinging to his face, and the way his eyes are flicking up at him expectantly, and how warm and small and cute he looks. He looks delicate and handsome and he wants to touch him, but he wants to touch all of him, and his heart is thumping so hard he starts to worry because... fuck. Is he dying? Is Gordon killing him just by being cute?

> Benrey swallows hard. He hopes his expression didn't falter. He broadens his grin in case it did, until the muscles in his cheeks honestly hurt. And he inhales deeply and forces a mocking laugh and squeezes his fingers around Gordon gently in an attempt to further mock him.

> "I 'unno, bro. Looks like you're, uh... you're carrying without a permit. That's... uh, an infract... fracta... infection. You're a bad boy, aren't'cha?"

Gordon yelps as those fingers hook under his arms and drag him out of the water. Oh, God, his legs are kicking out from underneath him, and his hands scrabble at Benrey's, and Benrey's just smirking at him all up close and personal and he's fucked, he's really, really fucked. His fucking dick bobs in the air like-- like-- he doesn't know, he doesn't have a simile for this! Gordon's never been in this situation before! But bob it does, until he comes to a stop right in front of Benrey's face.

"It's infraction, dude!" Gordon snaps, his mind jumping to the least important thing Benrey said. "Fucking 'infraction'! And I don't-- I don't know what you expect when you're all, fucking--"

He's cut off by a gasp when Benrey squeezes him, just a little. Makes Gordon keenly aware of those big fingers. He can just... he can do whatever he fucking wants, huh? Pick Gordon up like it's nothing? Wrap those fingers around him, so big and hot and rough against his skin, and move all his limbs around just like he was doing earlier and--

And--

Gordon blinks, coming back to himself. Face hot. Mouth dry. And Benrey's grin looks impossibly wider.

"You know," he finishes weakly.

> "Maybe I do," Benrey responds, jostling Gordon lightly. "Maybe I don't. Maybe you should tell me, bro. When I'm all fuckin' what?"

> He lifts Gordon higher, and closer. Really gets a good look at him, leaning in and running his tongue along his jagged teeth. Like a predator, like something that wants to swallow Gordon whole, though that's the last thing on his mind. He wants to taste Gordon, that's for sure, but there's... there's more to it.

> He wants to reel him in. Follow this weird feeling. Press his lips against Gordon and--

> Benrey inhales sharply through his nose. Gordon smells positively delicious. Like something fruity and sweet and earthly. And he looks delicious, too, all soft and supple and soaked to the bone, smooth skin glistening in the alien lights.

> His dick twitches, straining against his pants. He's so hard it hurts. He wonders if Gordon can see, but can't imagine he can miss it.

> "C'mon," he teases, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Tell me what I am, bro. Tell best friend Benrey what's on your mind. Bonding experience. Bros being bros."

He wrenches his eyes shut, breath coming harder and faster despite his efforts to control it. When Benrey fucking talks like that, he can't help it, okay? All-- all smug and condescending and all the shit that should get under his skin-- and does, yeah, it drives him up the wall, but. But. There must be something wrong with him, Gordon thinks desperately. Something warped in the fabric of his mind that makes a shiver race down his spine.

Then he feels warm breath puffing against his face, and he opens his eyes again. Just in time to see a broad tongue run across sharp, sharp teeth. A naked suggestion. Gordon's mouth falls open a little and hangs there, stunned speechless.

Until Benrey mutters, c'mooon, voice low and heated in a way that goes straight to Gordon's belly. And his dick twitches in the open air, fully visible this time. Fuck.

"You're," he starts, staring at his own fingertips, where they're digging into Benrey's hand.

God, this is humiliating! And he should, he should tell Benrey to fuck off and put him down, but he doesn't. That same warp in his fabric goes all the way down to his autonomic nervous system. Heart racing, blood pumping, pupils dilating and sweat beading and every other unconscious reaction he can't wrangle into submission.

Because he wants to be wrangled into submission.

Okay, Christ! He gets it! He doesn't need the color commentary from his own fucking brain!

Gordon takes a deep breath to steel himself, and then he starts again, choked and hesitant, "When you're... God, fucking, touching me and breathing on me and shit, man! Like you'd be doing any better if you had somebody's big fucking hands all over you! Okay?"

As soon as the words leave him, a fresh wave of embarrassment crests and crashes over him. Stupid, stupid, he shouldn't have said it.

> Oh. Well. That was new. Usually, there's a bit more arguing, a bit more resistance, a bit more of Benrey getting called things like "weirdo" and "freak" before they have a good "haha" about it and touch dicks. But Gordon is being so earnest and honest and talking about how he's touching him, about big hands, about doing this same thing to Benrey (sort of talking about it, anyway), and...

> ... And Benrey feels... wanted? Was that the word? Wanted?

> Yeah. He feels wanted.

> And that foreign, alien, hot-cold emotion twisting inside of him balloons and explodes, and there is a sudden, pulse-pounding sensation of want and warmth that courses through his body like a poison. He can feel drool pooling under his tongue and he swallows hard, his smile fading into something more earnest as he tries to maintain a mocking, bullying stare. Tries to keep his head in the game.

> Their game.

> "Oh. You, uh. You like it when I breathe on you? Fuckin'... secret alien power. Uh, blow dryer." He pauses and chuckles. "Heh. Blow."

> He inches Gordon closer to his face, and the closer he brings him, the more he can feel the little bit of warmth radiating off of him. Welcoming him. Blazing hot, like he is on the inside, and flushed so red he looked burned. And that warm, weird, unwelcome emotion surges again as he lets out a sigh and sits Gordon in his palm, plopping him down unceremoniously like a captured bug.

> Only he's not watching him with a childlike curiosity. He's really examining him, trying to wiggle the wrench out of the gears in his brain. With some effort, he pops it loose, and the words pour out of his mouth without any restraint.

> "Bet'cha you'd like it if I, uh... dried you off. Gentle breeze. Pick a scent. Have eight exciting flavors. Blue. Watermelon. Other blue. Tropical, uh, kiss."

> Even he isn't sure why he stressed that last word. The weird emotion spoke for him.

> His mouth snaps shut.

> Awkward.

Whatever Gordon was expecting, it wasn't "being dropped buck-naked onto Benrey's palm". His legs splay out in front of him, and he instinctively tries to draw his knees up. Doesn't change the fact that he's got his boner out in front of God and everybody.

"Was that supposed to be a joke?" Despite himself, he bursts out laughing. He does his best to choke it back down. "You really, uh, gotta work on your dirty talk, man."

Gordon doesn't manage to catch himself before he all but admits that, yeah, that was dirty talk. This is a situation where Benrey should be trying to talk dirty to him. It's breaking the rules a little. Breaking kayfabe. But it's hard to resist bringing it up when Benrey's trying to get him hot by talking about blowing on him like a spoonful of soup.

Then he actually thinks about what Benrey said. Tropical kiss. That's not-- that's not anything. That's not real. Benrey's just talking about kissing him, in whatever weird fucking roundabout way he usually does. A small part of him softens. It's... almost cute. If he were inclined to ever describe Benrey that way. Which he isn't.

But Gordon plays along anyway. "What are you talking about? Scents? Dude, I smelled your breath earlier, and lemme tell you, it wasn't any kind of fucking tropical kiss."

> "Uh, no. S'one of the other flavors," Benrey responds indignantly, façade breaking for a moment. "That flavor was, uh... Glade Plug-in."

> As he speaks, he reels Gordon in closer, sitting in his palm and still sopping wet. He looks so small, so delicate, so... cute, and the thought makes his heart flutter again. It grabs his tongue and twists it into an awkward knot that takes a moment to untie. He works fast, hoping to save face. Get back in the game.

> But it's hard. Harder than before, and as Gordon stares at him expectantly, he's suddenly floundering. While he is externally stiff, flat, and monotonous, on the inside he is scrambling to pick up his scattered index cards during a speech. He wants to play, but he wants to taste. He wants to stroke Gordon's head as much as his dick and he doesn't know why. He wants to say something naughty and nice all at the same time and...

> "Lemme, uh. Demo. Demon-stray-shun," Benrey says, interrupting his own thoughts. "Tropical kiss. Free sample. Here we go."

> And with that, he brings Gordon to his mouth. He presses the smaller man into his lips, a small and chaste kiss being planted in the first place he can reach: Gordon's throat. Only it's... not just his throat. It's basically his whole shoulder, and throat, and beneath his jaw. He practically envelops him, could literally swallow him if he wanted to, but pulls away and snorts a laugh as though this spontaneous act was premeditated as a joke.

> He sounds unconvincing.

> Even more so when he chuckles, "See? Coconut. Sea breeze. Lime. Seagulls. All the classic smells."

Lips press against Gordon's skin before he's fully prepared for it, and he lets out a surprised little sound. Jaw and throat alike find themselves enveloped, a heat and softness and moisture the likes of which he's never felt quite like this. And then it's over. Gordon's still left dizzily processing this as Benrey draws back.

"Did you just kiss me?" Gordon asks, stupidly. He touches a hand to his jaw, where there's a hint of moisture lingering.

The longer Gordon thinks about it, the more disoriented he becomes. Benrey's never kissed him like that before. All, fucking, sweet and tender. Those aren't words in his vocab. Like, yeah, sure, they've kissed before, but only in frantic, snarling bursts. This is strange and new.

But... at the same time... that's not all it is, is it. At this scale, chasteness is impossible. Gordon's so small in his hand, wet and splayed like some kind of foal, and those hands could wrap around every inch of him at once just to touch him. Lips, kissing wide swathes of skin. Hot breaths of air forced through Benrey's nose and spurring the hairs on the back of Gordon's neck to stand up. The unpleasant realization that Benrey is very, very big, and could probably just swallow Gordon whole if he so chose. You know. Normal things to worry about.

But he doesn't. He just lets Gordon go with a kiss. And Gordon flushes up to his ears, still a little dumbstruck.

> That was... new. That wasn't like the lust-fueled, rushed kisses he'd given Gordon while trying to get fingers around his cock, but it wasn't bad. It was something that scratched an itch he didn't know he had, something that made his lips tingle, something that milked an incredibly good feeling out of that foreign emotion swirling inside of him. It's intoxicating in a way human substances never could quite pull off, and Benrey feels an addiction already forming.

> It takes him a moment to realize that Gordon has spoken. It's just a tiny sound to his colossal ears, one he nearly misses from the full-body throb of lust and affection. It's not just his dick anymore. His heart is thundering against every bone, every inch of skin, and he feels almost overwhelmed. Again, like he's dying. This is new, it's intense.

> He wets his lips and furrows his brow, and with a surprising amount of clarity, rattles, "Yeah... uh. I guess I did, huh?"

> His tongue continues to run over his lips. His teeth. His eyes dart to Gordon. He's struggling to play the game properly, but there's a sudden bout of nerves involved. He can't help but wonder if this is how Gordon feels all the time, and the realization clonks him like a clawhammer.

> If this is how Gordon feels all the time, then no wonder he's always such a mess. It's latching onto his jaw and holding it shut like an invisible muzzle, it's pumping him full of drugs that don't exist, it's making him feel small despite being absolutely batshit levels of huge. And, it feels like he's learning... god, what had Alyx called it? Empathy? He's not sure how much he likes it, but it mingles well with the now-welcome warmth following the kiss in a way that feels positively, cathartically self-destructive.

> Benrey coughs. He doesn't laugh. He doesn't tease. He looks to Gordon with an intensity even he's surprised he can pull off.

> "You, uh. Like it? Wan' another one? I got, uh, plenty. Warehouses full. Best Friend Special. BOGO."

Gordon watches Benrey's tongue slide over his teeth like it's in slow motion, a reminder of what lies just underneath the surface. And he freezes under the intensity of Benrey's stare, anticipatory sweat beading on his forehead.

"What, you mean you want to..." He trails off with a nervous laugh. "C'mon, man, put me down! I know you get a kick out of, fucking, making fun of me or whatever, but I don't know what you're getting out of this!"

> Unfortunately, Benrey knows exactly what he was getting out of this. A feeling, strong and tingly that's now full of a primal need that he understands quite a bit better. And, beyond that, he was getting permission. Full permission in every movement Gordon made, every lilt of his voice, every glance up at him that was filled with a hunger that his human never got quite got the hang of voicing. It's a look that Benrey knows good and well, though, from the other time they've played their little games.

> He says nothing. He just smiles, moves Gordon to his mouth again, and pushes his lips gently against his collar bone, though it stretches down to his chest. He can feel Gordon's nipple brush against the corner of his lip, hair brushing against his mouth, the taste of the strange, glittering water and skin as he parts his lips and rumbles a laugh into Gordon.

> He pulls away. He maneuvers his human. He presses his mouth against him again, brushing his stomach with a feather-light kiss that nearly encompasses his dick. He can feel it pressing against him, feel it twitch as he pokes a tongue out between his teeth and presses the very tip into his soft flesh.

> His eyes angle up to Gordon's in a silent bid for a sign. The lick intensifies, nimbly avoiding the cock poking at the very corner of his mouth.

> He continues to say nothing. He has a feeling he doesn't have to. Gordon isn't the only one who can get away with communicating silent intent in their back-and-forth.

Of course Benrey's not gonna answer him. Of course Benrey's just gonna grin at him - like an asshole - and kiss him again, lips soft against his chest. Right over his heart. It's cartoonish, is what it is. And, unfortunately, it's also more ticklish than Gordon expects, and he snorts aloud.

"What are you doing? You're being weird, dude."

When Benrey laughs back at him, his huffed breath ruffles Gordon's body hair, and it just makes that whole "sensitivity" problem worse. Gordon tries to choke down a giggle and fails. Despite himself, it's... it's nice. He almost feels light-headed.

And then Benrey's doing it again, a soft kiss against his middle, shifting him bodily into position, and Gordon laughs again, shoving at his face. Playful. Roughhousing. Their usual.

And again. "That-- That tickles, man, c'mon!"

And again, hot against his belly. Mouth parted. Benrey's chin grazes his dick, which he'd all but forgotten about in his reflexive urge to kick Benrey away. A peal of laughter bleeds into a gasp. All the worse when Gordon feels the wet-hot tip of a tongue push into his skin.

Oh God. It feels just like he thought it would. In that dream, that fucking dream, the one he can't get out of his mind. The one that's made Gordon look twice every time Benrey grins at him, teeth sharp and glossy. He freezes, afraid even to breathe too heavily and press himself all the more against Benrey's tongue.

"What are you doing," he asks again, this time less of a playful rebuff and more of a high squeak. Then it's hotter, wetter, more of the broad side of Benrey's tongue flattening against him, and his dick twitches, hard.

Fuck.

> Alyx would be disappointed, Benrey thinks. He was doing so good and playing so nice, and now he's licking a hot, wet stripe across Gordon's belly, feeling the hairs and skin against his tongue, teeth barely grazing against sensitive flesh. But, he knows things she doesn't and will never know, about the game and the language that he and Gordon have built. He squeaks in defiance, but with a tone that shows only polite refusal: Oh, I couldn't possibly, but if you insist.

> Gordon isn't pressing against his face. He isn't pushing him away. He isn't snarling and cursing, and he hasn't made any move to extricate himself. He's parting his legs invitingly, his voice is getting higher in want and anticipation, and his dick is so hard. As hard as Benrey's, to be honest, and twitching almost as if its beckoning.

> "What'm I doing?" Benrey purrs, and he can see Gordon's body tremble at the way it rumbles through him. "M'helpin'. S'what best friends do."

> With that, his jaw opens wide, his tongue slithering out and the tip dipping lower. Low enough to catch his cock, his legs, the entire bottom of his stomach. It presses hard against Gordon and then creeps upward before coiling up politely behind Benrey's jagged smile. Drool pools at the corner of his lips and he swipes it away with his spare hand.

> He opens his mouth and dives back in again, the faintest hint of flesh and salt and soap and glittering, sweet Xen water dancing across his tongue. It fills him with another burst of primal want, though it's watching the flush on Gordon grow deeper that satiates that other, newer beast nesting inside of him.

Hot, wet, sinuous, pressing against his belly like a snake, making him gasp and jerk instinctively - Gordon's head spins on contact. And Benrey's eyes keep flicking up to meet his, like he's gauging Gordon's reaction. Looking for the go-ahead. Like-- Like they haven't been playing this fucking game for hours, glorified foreplay, you know, like he hadn't let Benrey practically feel him up behind the bleachers while he was (is) stripped down to nothing.

When Gordon's legs jerk open, though, he doesn't snap them closed again. He lets them fall open, leaving room for Benrey's face. If he wanted. To put his face anywhere around there. It's embarrassing as soon as the thought hits his conscious mind, and Gordon burns a bright red down to his shoulders.

"I-I don't know if this is what every 'best friend' is supposed to d-- oh-- oh God, Benrey--"

His voice pitches up, raw and hoarse, as Benrey's tongue flattens itself against his thighs and dick. No more games. Just what this was always building up to, this whole time, if Gordon had just paid a little more attention, pushed his glasses back up on his nose and seen the hunger in Benrey's eyes. And the full knowledge of it cracks over his skull like an egg.

His chest heaves desperately to catch his breath, but it's so much, he can't--

He can't--

Benrey's going back for more, licking him in slow, deliberate strokes and chuffing like a big cat against him, and Gordon can't fucking think. His hands clench at Benrey's, then, finding that inadequate, at his own face. His hair.

"Benrey," he chokes out again. "You're gonna-- oh-- you just gave me a bath and you're gonna get me all fuckin' nasty again, man!"

It comes out as a whine that belies just how fucking stupid he sounds.

> "I'll, uh, just bathe you again. No biggie."

> Benrey's voice is low, dismissive. There is a dark and teasing chuckle hidden just under the surface, as much of a predator as the rest of him. Waiting for a moment to strike, to snag his prey and drag it beneath the surface. But not now, not now.

> Benrey likes to play with his food.

> His alien tongue is strangely dexterous, encircling Gordon's thighs and tracing wet lines into the crease where they met his body. Faint trails of Sweet Voice-tainted saliva leave visible marks of where he's been, allowing Gordon to ogle at exactly when Benrey is doing to him even after he's moved on. Even after he's moved from one leg to the other, to his belly, to his cock.

> His own aches as he flattens his tongue against his dick and licks upwards, like an animal lapping water. His tongue curls delicately and folds back into his mouth, scraping against pointed teeth before emerging again. Hungry, tasting, teasing and growing faster, more deliberate. The taste of Gordon swirl in his mouth and he feels a heat building in his belly so hot and dangerous that it almost makes him feel ill.

> And it intensifies with every squeak Gordon makes, every pant that falls out of his mouth. It drives him onward, a leopard on the prowl, gradually cornering its next meal. His own breath is becoming ragged, his mind a messy whorl of emotions and thoughts that make time seem as though it hardly matters. He's long forgotten how long he's been teasing, eyes nearly crossed to focus on Gordon. Benrey has long been lost in the sounds he makes, the way he writhes.

> It's almost like divine inspiration when it strikes him that he should maybe push him a bit harder.

> Delicately, and uncharacteristically slow, he rolls his tongue back into his mouth. He parts his lips and fits them around Gordon's length. He can't suck, not at this size, but he hums in satisfaction, the vibrations pulsing straight from him and into his human.

> If he wasn't so afraid of doing damage, he'd have smiled.

"We don't have time to--" Gordon breaks off in a moan, that compulsive need to worry stopped in its tracks by Benrey's tongue.

He shivers from his neck down to his toes when it worms around his thighs, digging into those sensitive creases in his skin. Something like a laugh bubbles out of him, but it's also something like a whimper, with a hint of a plea.

"You can't," he gasps, fighting for breath, "you can't do this to me, man, you don't even-- ah! Fuck! Don't even know!"

Gordon turns his face to the side and buries a noise into Benrey's hand. Makes it easier to cope when Benrey licks up to his chest and swirls his tongue, his own breath loud and hot around it. Tasting everywhere he can get to.  Benrey just keeps going, salivating and groaning for the sheer thrill of it, and it makes heat pulse off Gordon's skin in waves.

Faster, harder, enveloping him in ways he had only dreamed possible, something only he can do - Benrey - just for him, he doesn't do this shit with anyone else, how could he. Gordon squirms and gasps in his grip, legs straining to arch into that wet heat.

Agony creeps into his voice, low and haggard. "Benrey," he whines, "how are you so fucking... good at this, why are you even--"

He doesn't get to finish that thought before Benrey's lips wrap around him, and he hums, smug as a cat that's gotten the cream, and Gordon cries out so hard that some winged thing bursts out from a nearby outcropping. How is-- Why is he-- what does he even get out of this, he thinks wildly, brain desperately clinging to neuroticism even in the face of sexual obliteration.

> Every time Gordon shifts his weight, whines, looks away, says a word, Benrey feels that warm, weird emotion surge through him in a way that defies explanation. A feeling he thinks he can now identify, but is hesitant to verbalize, lest he somehow break the rules. But, it's so much stronger than before, especially after everything they'd been through, especially with the way Gordon is finally saying what he really means. Instead of snapping that he's being weird, he's whimpering praise and the words hang crookedly in his head like paintings in a forgotten room.

> "Benrey, how are you so fucking... good at this?"

> The boner he'd been ignoring for what seemed like millennia is now aching, and he pushes his hips against the side of the island and grinds upwards in hopes of finding something resembling relief. Unsurprisingly, what he finds is a crotch full of rocks, and he winces even as he continues to lavish Gordon with attention, breath hot out of his nose as he continues to hum and mouth at his dick. As he unfurls his tongue once more and presses it against his entire body and pushes Gordon against the palm of his hand, something akin to a wet hug. As the tip once again finds Gordon's cock and greedily laps at it, mesmerized by how prominent it is compared to the rest of his soft body.

> There is no give. Just hardness, sinking into the sensitive muscle.

> As he continues on--gently sucking on entire hands, tracing circles into the wet skin of his stomach, tasting the inside of his thighs while grazing his junk with the side of his tongue--he grunts. He feels his hips rocking just out of Gordon's sight. He clenches his free hand when its not in use pulling Gordon's legs apart for easier access or fiddling with his arm to get access to his fingers.

> It's instinctual, and impossible to ignore. He aches, and he knows Gordon can see he's losing himself to this as much as his prey.

> He waits to see if Gordon will have anything to say about it.

Gordon grabs desperately at Benrey's face, a nasal noise forced out of him on every exhale. It's more than a blowjob, it's, it's Benrey humming through his entire fucking body, okay? He can feel it down to his bones, and the inside of Benrey's mouth is achingly warm and so, so wet, and Benrey just keeps mouthing at him, tongue unfurling behind his teeth to lap up Gordon's length in a hot stripe.

It's... it's good. It's so good. Gordon closes his eyes tight and moans aloud.

Benrey moans, too, as his lips part from Gordon's dick to envelop his fingers instead. He pants through his nose and shuffles awkwardly, and the uncomfortable motion gets Gordon to open his eyes again. And he really looks, this time.

Oh.

He's hard.

Benrey's hard, and he's rocking his hips forward into the barren earth. And he's got his hands on Gordon instead of himself. Thumbing his chest and spreading him open. The burden of that knowledge makes Gordon pant like a dog.

"Oh my God," he warbles, voice cracking as Benrey draws patterns into his stomach with his tongue, "are you-- are you not gonna--"

Gordon slaps his hands over his mouth, suddenly regretting his words. No, he's not going to ask if Benrey's gonna touch his own dick, Jesus Christ. That's none of his business. What does he even care, anyway. It's not like he wants to see it. Not like he's curious about how big it would look once Benrey whipped it out. Gordon's aware of the general, you know, size and girth, proportionally, but it looks so much bigger down there, even in the confines of his work pants. It's not really fair.

And then Benrey grunts against him and flicks the tip of his tongue against his dick even faster, and Gordon can't stop the agonized whine that forces its way out of him.

> Benrey's tongue rolls up Gordon's body yet again, and again, and again. It envelops his dick, his thighs, his stomach, and everything in between. He watches, he waits, and eventually he hears Gordon's voice small and broken from his palm. It is enough to make him recoil, to open the floodgates in his mind. That warm feeling floods the inside of his skull and drowns out every thought out but lust, who is gasping for air defiantly.

> "Huh?"

> Benrey pauses, looking down at Gordon--soaked and slimy and oh-so-small--laying with his legs parted, his face flushed, his eyes locked on the very prominent erection straining against his pants. His own trail down to it and he smirks as the weight of Gordon's almost-question hits him.

> "Oh... huh? Wha? Touch myself? Is, uh, is that what you were gonna say?"

> He leans down over Gordon, tongue sticking out between sharp teeth but frustratingly distant from his body. The hand he'd once used to manhandle his human pulled away, fingers slipping into his waistband behind his belt. He sneers, but there is no actual malice behind it. Feigned mockery, just to make Gordon grow brighter. Redder.

> "You... seem to like the idea. You, uh. You... you wanna see? That what you want? Wanna see best friend Benrey's massive hog? Wanna... wanna touch it?"

> A pause, a laugh.

> "Want me to touch it? Seems you like the idea. I can do it. Just, uh, gotta say so."

Gordon mumbles a quiet plea into his hands, begging for some higher power to-- to do something. He doesn't know what. All he knows is that Benrey's sticking his tongue between his teeth, now, looking at him as if he's some problem to be solved or some piece of furniture to wrangle into place. Instead of keeping that tongue right where he had it. Gordon squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath through his nose. He's not disappointed, actually. That would involve caring about what Benrey was doing at all. Which he doesn't.

"You can... you can do whatever you want, man. It's your life," he says, not meeting Benrey's eyes.

Not like he wants to... oh, God. That's Benrey's hand in his pants, isn't it? Slipping under the waistband before Gordon’s even finished his sentence. A sound escapes him that he really wishes wouldn't. He’s really into this, huh, Gordon thinks distantly, just as surprised by the realization as he has been all the previous times he’s figured out that, yes, Benrey actually is pretty hot for him. Like he’s still waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off, even now. Even after Benrey’s sucked his dick in a fucking dumpster. (You take what you can get.)

And-- And there it is, huh. Larger than life. Gordon swallows, a little intimidated. Then he wants to curse himself out for feeling intimidated by Benrey’s dick. Freud would have a field day with him.

[some-dr-writings]

Gundham x shy reader who asks for kisses

·       Gundham always found himself enjoying his time with you, you were by far one of his greatest companions in this life. With how shy and meek you seemed to be when you first met, he never thought someone like you would become his partner, he always imagined that if he were to find one they’d be more outwardly bold, yet he fell for you.

·       Time and time again he had seen you try to approach others only to back out, running away in the end. It seemed you might have had a social anxiety of sorts, there had been several times where he had happened upon you after running, leaning against a wall breathing heavily, telling yourself that everything was alright. It was a rather pitiful state to find a person in, Mikan for as… flighty as she was could at least stammer out a few words to people if they talked to her, you on the other hand ended up just blabbering nonsense.

·       Well he thought what you spoke was gibberish till one day he found a little tablet on his desk. Curiously he turned on the device and was met with a box of text. “In a fairy tale kingdom far, far away peoples anxieties exist as monsters who follow them around. Tired of their monsters getting in the way of making friendships a shepherd and riddle solver devise a plan to meet without their anxieties. A river divides their lands and in that great river, a single, small island. There they would meet. First they would capture their anxieties and meet on the island in case they escaped to still be away from them. The shepherd successfully captured his monsters but the riddle solver failed, and more monsters were born of the failure, the riddle solver now having “hopelessness”. Can you get the shepherd and the riddle solver to the island? There are several conditions to this however. 1, no monsters can be with the shepherd and the riddle solver on the island, 2, with every trip the boat makes across the river another monster will find the riddle solver, the shepherd’s monsters will find him every other turn, 3, if the shepherd or the riddle solver are with 5 of their monsters they will be consumed and it’s game over, 4, if the shepherd or riddle solver are left with their monsters for three turns they will be consumed by anxiety and it’s game over, 5, the boat needs two people to row it they can be human, monster or both, but the river is too powerful for only one to move the boat”

·       Tapping the screen he was greeted to a picture on a person on each side of a river, one of them with a black creatures beside them as well as a boat, and island in the middle of the river. There were also buttons at the top labeled “rules and “hints” and such. The style seemed to be like a picture book. After some tapping around he learned the controls and intrigued by whatever this exactly was he played along. Eventually he found a way for them to meet, but it took much trial and error, and was certainly not helped by the fact he refused to check the hints. In the end when he did beat it he was instructed to leave the tablet in between specific books in the library.

·       The next day on his desk he found that tablet again, this time with a new game in it and once beaten, instructed him to hide it in the library once more. Over and over this went on.

·       Once more he had solved the mystery of the new game, however he found the library was about to close. Not wanting to have to wait another day for another fun game he and his devas raced for the library. Though everyone was being ushered out Gundham charged through, bolting straight for the appointed section, the crossroads between mathematics and history. There he spotted you, pulling out a book then looking in between books, sliding them over, a tablet exactly like the one Gundham held in hand tucked under your arm. “… Excuse me-” A high pitched squeak sound escaped you as you flipped around, looking to the Dark Overlord, dropping your tablet in the process. “A-ah, oh, uh, h-hi- uh ummm, hamster squeaking, lost, find the-” Then you ran, leaving behind your tablet. Turning it on Gundham found the new mystery had to do with a woman dying and her sister getting her pet hamsters but the person who was to deliver the hamsters to her lost them in a pet store, and though the sister never saw the hamsters before, she could recognize them by their squeaks always hearing them in the background of her video calls with her sister, and the mystery was to figure out which hamsters made which squeaks in the giant group of them.

·       “Hmm, so the hiding soul speaks riddles…”

·       After the encounter Gundham did research on you, he didn’t know your name or talent, but since Hope’s Peak attendees were always a hot topic on the internet he was sure he could find something on you and that he did, Y/N the Super High School Level Enigmatologist.

·       “Hint.” “AH! Oh, uh, huh?” Before you could panic you were consumed in confusion seeing the dark brooding man before you, holding your latest puzzle before you. It was on the hint page, strange since he had never used the hints before. “Your words fall on deaf ears. Extract the meaning of this!” “… uh… n-new hint? Okay.” And so you began mumbling to yourself about the puzzle, while trying to not give away the answer till you came up with a new hint. Then after Gundham had solve it and was given a new puzzle to solve, he insisted that you give him a new hint again, then again with the next puzzle. Every time there after he came to you, asking for a new hint.

·       Gundham was rather intrigued by you, who found comfort in puzzle solving, getting lost in finding solutions to strange problems. He was willing to help meet you half way across the river, secluded on an island with you, away from the monsters that consumed you anywhere else, he wanted to get to know you without them in the way.

·       He rather liked so much about you, how passionate you were about your craft, going on rants about it for hours, your willingness and even enthusiasm to learn about his passions, how despite your anxieties you always tried your damnest to become a better person and push through them, how you never were confused by his words, always understanding him, how that even extended to his body language and understanding his boundaries on touch.

·       You were a rather logical sort even if your emotions of fears tended to get the best of you. It was only natural since you always were working on puzzles. Even emotions to an extent were logical to you. You saw everything, even yourself as a puzzle to be solved, and so often times the solution to aches and pains was affection. Usually you’d ask Gundham what he thought of you, knowing you’d only receive honesty which was mostly praise. Eventually after a long time you would get to hold hands or hug.

·       It was a rather lazy, sleepy day, it was just so peaceful, before Gundham knew it the day had already passed and it was past dinner time. “Hmm? Y/N?” Usually you’d have come to see him by dinner, but it seemed you never showed up. Did something happen? Sitting up from his desk he found his devas before him. “Ah, so you know where my mate hides?” He slowly got up following him companions.

·       “… the closet?” They simply sniffed at the door, and cautiously he opened it. “Ah!” You sat on the floor, curled up in a ball, cowering in the corner silently. It… had been a very long time since Gundham had last seen you in such a state, it had taken him aback for a moment and there he stood, his mind blank. “G-gundham… affection ple-please.” Your voice cracked and wavered, your breathing ragged. And hearing it almost brought tears to the Ice Lord’s eyes. Did… did you have a panic attack, and he never noticed? Why else would you sound so wreaked?

·       He slinked into the closet, closing the door behind himself before sitting beside you. Taking a deep breath, he took one of your hands into both of his own, squeezing it tightly. “Of course my Emperor, one who unravels the world, who reveals the truth behind veils of deceit. How could I not? You who takes my heart each and every moment, you who I cherish so dearly, you who is so cunning, what possible words could I have other than praise and love?” He felt how tight you squeezed his hand, how you trembled. He was not sure this would be enough this time, he had failed to be by our side when you needed it most.

·       “… My Emperor. Would you be so kind as to unravel my next words?” “… a riddle?” “Yes. Would you solve my riddle?” “o-okay.” “I… I, uh…” Preferably Gundham wanted to come up with a good riddle, one that you would have to think on for a long time, but he doubted he could come up with one. You had asked for affection so maybe… “I am… I am one action that can only ever be shared by two at a time. I am a way to show love. I am… uh… I am-” “A hug?” “…” Slowly Gundham wrapped his arms around you. “I am… something Gundham has never shared with you before.” “Huh? Something……… a kiss?”

·       Damn it. Gundham thought the darkness would make this easier but it only made him more anxious. Placing his hands on your shoulders, he clutched them in a tight grip. Okay! He could do this! He could hug you, and this was less contact than a hug, so he could do this!

·       “of course… someone as brilliant as you could solve my twisted words.” Leaning into you, he felt as if his heart were trembling. Even in darkness he closed his eyes. He tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead for a few moments before somehow managing to loosen the grip on our shoulders, though his fingers were still tense. Slowly he traced them up your neck as he pressed his lips on the bridge of your nose. Finally his hands stopped, cradling your head in them, allowing him to easily kiss your cheeks.

·       “P-perhaps… we can… prepare a meal for ourselves and by the time we’re finished I’ll have come up with an even more confounding riddle for you.”

[swordancer7]

⚠️⚠️SDR2 SPOILERS⚠️⚠️

How I would have done a blackened Sonia

All right, so, I never thought Sonia was going to survive till the end of the game. She seemed suspicious to me in every trial and I felt she always had possible ways of killing the victim that were less far fetched then some of the actual killers.

She also seemed easy to kill, she is a princess with 0 real world experience so fooling her into being in dangerous situations would be easy. Being a foreigner as well, means you could get away with some bullshit saying it was just cultural difference.

I know Kazuichi is the easy route, but I think it would be interesting if she killed him.

I'm thinking specially about chapter 4, where she would have been the killer instead of Gundham. In part because when I played I thought that Gundham is was dumb to make an elaborate kill like Nekomaru's. However, I would make Gundham the most suspect person in this one case.

Since he and Sonia spent a long time together that chapter for the first time, it makes a quick correlation between him, her and Kazuichi.

The circumstances of Kazuichi's death would be:

-He is found dead stabbed on the chest, laying in his own bed;

-He is found with strange blood splatters in his suit. His arm is close to his body, but the blood splatters in his sleeve and chest form a big and unusual angle.

-his knees are pointing to the wall, close to the end of the bed, but the knife is in his chest, so if the person was sat in the bed they would have had to reach around him to kill him, or he really was stabbed while laying on his back.

In my version, I'd add more scenes to the chapter: one of some of the students playing with Gundham's hamsters, probably Hajime, someone from strawberry house and Kazuichi himself, adding a new clue:

-He has white, grey and brown fur on his hand/sleeve.

The other scene would be very minor, Kazuichi would go explore the Straeberry house together (as usual the victim spends more time with the protagonist before their death). Kazuichi and Hajime have a very awkward time since Kazuichi is clearly so suspicious of Hinata since the last trial. They never solve this weird tension and it keeps bugging Hinata after the trial because he knows Kazuichi wanted to believe him because of the talk they had during exploring the house.

During the exploration of the strawberry house/grape house there is a throw away line mentioning that Kazuichi paints his nails very poorly. Which leads me to the new clue about the body:

-Kazuichi's nails are perfectly painted black.

Someone beside's Nagito still has used the final room and someone notes that one of Kazuichi's tools is missing from his toolbox, that Kazuichi has mentioned to Hajime that he is proud to still complete (he is clumsy, he loses stuff sometimes). The elevator is broken in the grape house.

Now to the trial:

Sonia is one of the very first accused, but is quickly considered innocent since she wasnt part of the playing with the 4 devas of destruction scene. She even assumes she isnt as sad as she would be for his death like he was from previous victims, but that is shrugged off since he did bother her a lot and she was never seen being mean to him.

As I said, Gundham is suspect n°1. The fur in Kazuichi's hand/ sleeve is the collor of the 4 devas of destruction, though the other person in the scene and Hajime are also framed and considered suspects (mainly Hajme, since he also searched the houses with Kazuichi).

Out of the ones left, who else wears black nail polish? Gundham of course. Someone reveals that they did see Gundham entering his room, but all the other floors of the house where occupied and no one saw him in them beforehand.

I already told you Sonia is guilty, and I think part of the reason they move away from her so soon would be that often the game comes up with weird complicated tangents that distract from the real case, but the cases are often stupidly complicated as well, so this would get the player off their rithym by actually being one of the easiest things to explain.

"The elevator was stuck in grape house, but he died in strawberry house. The murdered probably made it stop on grape house as a red herring!" How did he do that? Idk, but they assume that's it and latter have to return and remember theres no proof of a way someone in strawberry house could make the elevator stop at grape house.

"Sonia wasnt playing with the hamsters, the fur in Kazuichi's sleeve was probably from that moment" Sonia didnt play with the dark devas, but that doesnt mean she couldn't have done it in another moment, when she was hanging out with Gundham.

"How would have Gundham gotten inside Kazuichi's room?" First conclusion is that he offered to paint Souda's nails as a excuse to get in his room.

And heres the thing: he was indeed the one who painted Kazuichi's nails, it even happened in Kazuichi's room. The someone who saw him enters his room did actually see him coming back from Kazuichi's room, but at that moment Kazuichi was still alive.

What happened was: Sonia went to Kazuichi's room after Gundham left, because she knew Gundham was going there, he mentioned it to her when they explored the houses together.

She gets in the room and plays a little with Kazuichi, pretends to be interested, gives him some affection and he ends up laying on her lap, which makes things easy when she finally stabs him.

Theres 2 ways you could play this out, the Souda x Gundham way and the non shipy way.

So if you are not interest in the shiping side, heres how I would do it: Gundham doesnt like seeing people fight, it's part of his nurturing nature, he offers to paint Kazuichi's nails as a peace offering and to explain he isnt romantically interested in Sonia, as well as to ask him to not doubt Hinata either, since he can sense (as in: knows by his body lenguage) that Hajime doesnt plan on hurting anyone, much less Kazuichi who he considers a friend.

Sonia did approach Gundham for an interest in his obscure aesthetic and the thing about raising animals that is important for courtship rituals in her country, that she mentions in her free time event. But when Gundham tells her he wants to talk to Kazuichi she is an opportunity to frame him for the murder, she is already reached her boiling point with Kazuichi, even if she doesnt show it (like celeste).

Like celeste, she has been desperate to leave the game (as she also mentions in her free time event). She feels the responsibility to come back to her country, that she cant leave her people without a governor and she finally saw a chance of escaping the island.

Ok, shippy way: Sonia is jealous of Kazuichi because Gundham tells her he has a crush on Kazuichi. And Sonia has a crush on Gundham.

She cant stand Kazuichi anymore, all her life people have pretend to be her friends/lovers to gain her trust and favours, she doesnt trust anyone who is too enthusiastic about being close to her. That's why she likes Gundham, he is mysterious and quiet and she feels she has to conquer him instead of having him lead her on for favours.

Gundham is pretty bad at expressing his feelings but (as seen in his free time events) he is also clearly starved for affection. Kazuichi seems to have a grudge against him and Gundham admires that he is so enthusiastic about how much he likes Sonia, and fuck dude, he wants someone to be in love with him like that.

Sonia is completely done with Kazuichi already, and kills him out of anger and jealousy. He got Gundham interested in him despite being annoying all the time and she feels like he was stealing Gundham from her right when she was able to conquer his friendship.

She likes true crime, she has seen lots of stories of people murdering others for love, she even thinks its romantic.

So yeah, that's it. Its kinds dumb but I think it's ok since so many of the cases in the game are already dumb.

[kabutoraiger]

my yappari oshii keiji review:

this is the result of Drama Roulette where i use a random number generator to try to find something to watch that’s outside my usual. i guess... not super outside my usual in this case. but i do typically only go for cop shows if there’s a) a hot old guy in it, b) some kinda cop romance that appeals to me or c) both. so technically this one is a little beyond the norm.

(as a result of picking it at random i didn’t realize it was a sequel until halfway through. but uhh. s1′s only 4 eps long so i couldn’t have missed that much, right?)

i’m surprised by how funny i found this show. it suffers from real Straight Guy Writer(s) Syndrome with being kinda stupid and weird about women and there are definitely some jokes that are beaten into the ground or bad but there’s just something about oshii as a protag. he is like a harem anime protag except i actually understand why women want him. i want to hold him in my hands like a little hamster. absolute hidari shotaro tier goofy fictional detective.

that said while generally funny and with fairly interesting mysteries it does feel tonally off a lot of the time. oshii acquires his own personal moriarty who’s like heehee let’s play a game of crime >:3 and oshii’s like solving crimes is no game! these are people’s lives! ... except the main cast consistently act like it is, in fact, a game? bc it’s a stupid comedy? they generally show zero care or empathy for the murdered victims they’re investigating which is fine enough when it’s Rich Old CEO Man who died but feels rather callous & cruel when it’s an average college student. (whose appearance they make disparaging comments about, even)

i think if you’re going to do Funny Murders consistently you need to make the world at large a heightened reality one. where the characters getting murdered and many of the suspects are all real weirdos. but in this show only the cops are weirdos. everyone else is relatively normal. which makes the energies not align right at all.

overall: ehh? i had fun with it and if you’re an inukai atsuhiro fan this is another entertaining Smug Boy role for him but it’s in real YMMV territory re: how it handles being a funny cop show

[ps-i-dont-even-know]

Devil may cry headcanons

You know I wasn't expecting you put a lot of Kyrie stuff in this one but I couldn't help it. Also there's dadgil in here because I really love it, sorry for no young Dante and Vergil I'm running out of ideas since I can't remember most of my childhood. Also for those who are interested, I’m thinking of starting taking request/ask for headcanons and writing, possibly drawing but their not the best, but I need to work stuff out at the moment.

Sometimes when Vergil has a mission near Nero and Kyrie, he stops by their house

The first time he did this was shocking to Nero, not only was Vergil there, but V and Urizen was there too, and it was going to be extremely ridiculous to explain this to Kyrie

And he knew how this was go and how she is protective over Nero since losing her brother and nearly losing Nero.

"Nero, who's at the... door", " Oh, um Kyrie I would like to introduce you to my dad, er … Dads?", "Your, Dads?", "Look its complicated and a long story, anyway this is my main Dad, Vergil, he's kind of nice but doesn't really talk that much. This is my dad's human half, V, he's nice, likes poems and has animals, strange one that is. And lastly is my dads demon half, um I'm not sure if he's nice or not since he raised the demon tree", "Oh that's nice, by the way which one was the one that hurt you", "Wait, Kyrie, No!"

Nero has to hold Kyrie back from trying to attack Vergil, mostly for her safety. Of course she doesn't forgive Vergil at first, because of what he has done and while she gives off a nice demeanor, her glares and scowls are anything buy warm and welcoming. Which Vergil approves of Kyrie dating Nero, having someone who will fight for you instead of turning tail when something bad happens

After a while Kyrie finally forgives Vergil, because she shouldn't hold grudges that are already in the past, and to move on. But she does tell him that if he were to do something like this again she would not hesitate to hurt him, and Vergil knowing that it would be impossible for her to hurt him agrees. And the tension is finally gone and she is more welcoming to him. Which is great for Nero's case since he felt like he was being smothered in between all their glaring and the tension.

Kyrie also makes apple pie when Vergil visits, since apples are one of his favorite fruits and because the one time he visit she made some for the orphans and she asked if he would like a slice and at first he said no, but soon gave in and had a slice, well maybe two or three but he wont admit to it.

He will also go grocery shopping with her when he has free time and Nero is busy, only to help find ingredients for new food Kyrie wants to try, and to get to know each other better.

On holidays when Vergil and Nero will help Kyrie cook some of the food. Sometimes Dante will try to sneak some sweets only for his hand to be hit by a spatula as Kyrie tells him, he needs to wait or he'll spoil his dinner. In which Dante's pouting, Nero and Nico are giggling, and Vergil is smirking.

Nero has Kyrie fix his jackets when he comes back from missions sometimes, normally he will tell her he doesn't want to put work on her, but she wants to do something nice for him. She also teachers Nero how to sew and stitch so when there are days she can't fix he can do it himself, which took a while but he got it down and not only does he fox his jacket but also helps make clothing for some of the kids, sure his stitching or sewing not the best but they love it nonetheless. Kyrie has also has sewn cat like ears on one of Nero jackets without him knowing until Dante was laughing at him, he chewed him out but still kept the ears on his hoodie because he likes it.

Kyrie got Nero into cooking and remodeling house shows, sometimes he’ll turn it on just to see how the house changed and kind of debated on doing it with their house. What surprised him was the time he came into the living room where the tv was and saw Kyrie watching crime investigator shows, saying she finds its interesting about how they solve the problems, which Nero also got into, along with most of the kids.

The kids will dog pile both Dante and Vergil, Dante loves it, play fighting with the kids and stuff. Vergil on the other hand he doesn’t expect it and isn’t used to the contact, so he gets stiff and weirded out.

Dadgil

He got a school suspension, because well doing his first judgement cut on an apple sitting on a desk while cutting the apple but also the desk was something he wasn't supposed to do, and also because there not supposed to bring weapons to school

Nero had brought the Yamato, Cerberus, Nevan, and Agni & Rudra to his school show and tell, because he want to knock the socks off the kids who brought in pets, toys, or food from a different country

Vergil was frustrated that he had gotten a call from the school that his son brought weapons to school and was being suspended because of it and was mad that Dante let the Nero bring the weapons to school in the first place because it was Dante’s day to take the kid to school and he was busy

He was proud that Nero had done a judgment cut for the first time even if it was tiny and told him not to do this again.

Nero technically has two dads. Vergil and V, he loves when V visits him because of his strange pets, and the way he acts, he's mysterious but kind and loves his poems

Nero will not sleep unless V or Vergil reads him something be it a poem or story, and will try to stay up when Vergil is out on a mission. Being read to helps Nero sleep

On that subject of sleeping, Nero has frequent nightmares. It might be something he has gotten from Vergil, but there will be times where Nero leaves his bed and walks to his dad's room asking if he can sleep in bed with him, and half awake Vergil will agree. Sometimes Vergil will softly sing to Nero because after his nightmares it takes him a while to get back to sleep, and god forbid if Dante heard him singing he knows that he will not let him live this down.

Nero wanted to learn an instrument because his dad knows how to play a violin, and his uncle knows how to play both the drums and guitar. Though the problem was he didn't know which one to go with, there was many to choose from, he kind of stuck with a trombone since it slides a lot and the style is kind of it is great, also he can get away with spitting on Dante.

Nero has only two fears, spirits/ghost and frogs. Its mostly Dante's fault for letting Nero watch paranormal horror movies at night. And Nero doesn't know why he is afraid of frogs, maybe its the way they look or something he doesn't know nor care.

When he was at the park with Nico and Kyrie, did his fear of frogs really show. They were over by the pond and Nico comes over to Nero with the frog in her hand, only for him to scream and start running, while Nico chase after him giggling. Kyrie was also giggling watching Nero run from Nico was too funny.

Nero also begged his dad and uncle for a pet, he didn't care what it was as long as its not a frog. Dante was close to getting Nero a hellhound or Cerberus, but Vergil literally had to stab smack some sense in his brother. They decided on ferret, they didn't want a cat or bird because V has one and they weren't sure if its territorial or not. Hamster and Guinea pigs are tiny and live I cates not much fun there same with Lizards. Dogs are a hassle and no one wants to clean up after it, so a Ferret is what they decided on.

Nero absolutely loves it and its a noddle he can wrap it around his neck and wiggle the creature. He decided on naming it Furret cause it looked like the Pokémon and he couldn't think of anything else

Every year for fathers day Nero will try and make Vergil something, he's make weird cup looking thing that you cant drink out of it because of holes, macaroni art, drawings, cards filled with glitter galore, paper hats, the list goes on and on. But he tried making those flower thing Dante makes, he asked him how he did it and Dante responds it comes to him naturally which doesn't help at all. So he tries only for nothing to appear to his disappointment, he tries and tries until he gets the tiniest and wimpy looking thing. But happily gives it to his dad who really appreciates it.

Vergil's refrigerator is covered with child like drawings given to him from Nero, he loves them and encourages Nero to do more and that he will be the greatest artist.

When Nero first met Patty was the same day Dante was given the mission to babysit her. She was kind of bratty and annoying at first and he didn't like that she would take all of Dante's attention. They argued a lot and Dante would yell at them to stop because it was giving him a headache and they should try to get along. After having to take Patty to retrieve her family money he did start to get along with her and they started to both annoy Dante together.

Nero absolutely loves dinosaurs and has loads of toys of them, and when he was going to the Zoo with Vergil he told him he was excited to see Dinosaurs there. Only for Vergil to tell them that there aren't any dinosaurs at the zoo. (This happened to a friend of mine).

Trish and Lady likes to take Nero out shopping, normally he doesn’t mind going with them, as long as he gets something out of it. Poor Dante and his debt when he finds out how much stuff they bough for Nero

Dante watching Nero while Vergil out can lead to many, many, different ways, and Vergil dreads all of them. Dante could feed Nero only sweets and junk food instead normal healthy food, Dante could probably lose Nero somewhere be it the park or his own damn shop, Dante could probably get Nero in danger because of the demons that show up to his shop and destroys it.

Nero does get into a lot of fights at school, half of them are kids making fun of him others are he’s a hard head and doesn’t let go of grudges. The school is very frustrated in how Nero always gets into these fights, but are nervous of his dad, because of his stubbornness and how he knows that half the time its not Nero’s fault. Like one time a teacher and Nero argued about how Demons do exist and how his dad, uncle, and two aunts go out and defeat. It resulted Nero getting embarrassed in front of the class and being sent to the office and a very angry Vergil that nearly killed the teacher.

[i-turned-the-emperor-to-dust]

Miraculous Fanfiction

It Started With a Kiss [AO3 Link] (Based loosely on the Korean Webdrama: Who Kissed Me?)

After drinking too much at a collége reunion, Marinette recalls kissing someone after the party but can't remember who. Enter one flirty, ridiculous cat who's hell-bent on helping her remember!

(Yaay, finally finished my first Fanfic in the Miraculous fandom! I’m so proud of my muse - finally cooperating for once 🥳)

                                     —                     —                  —        

The memory itself was vivid, even if the details themselves were a bit fuzzy. But Marinette knew this much: the lips had been soft against her own, the pace slow and languid, and they certainly knew how to use their tongue, how to apply just the right amount of pressure as their hand tangled in her hair, greedily pulling her closer.

A perfect kiss.

Well, nearly perfect. Marinette still couldn’t remember just who those lips belonged to.

“I swear, girl. Only you would experience the most memorable, mind-blowing make-out session of your life, and not even remember who the lucky guy is!”

As Alya gave her another comforting pat on the back, Marinette nodded morosely, emotionally spent from the memory alone. “It’s not fair. I’m cursed, Alya,” she despaired, arms dangling dramatically over the side of her chaise longue as she wallowed in self-misery.

“You got that right,” replied her helpful, supportive friend.

“Are you sure you don’t remember who I left with?” She asked again, desperately hoping her friend hadn’t suffered a mental-blackout like she had and would have the answer ready to unwrap like a present.

“Sorry, girl. Like I said, I left early with Nino. Trust me, if I knew you were going to drink too much and have a sexy tongue-soiree after a self-imposed drought, I would’ve stuck around to film it for posterity.”

“Gee, thanks,” Marinette groaned, cursing the unfairness of it all. Apparently, all her Ladybug luck was on reserve for when she actually needed it to defeat akumas.

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure this out,” her best friend assured her, a determined glint entering her eye as the seasoned journalist took over. Nothing got her blood pumping like a mystery to solve. Climbing to her feet, Alya walked over to her rolled-up poster board and yanked down a nice clean page, then grabbed a marker and prepared to write. “Alright then, first we need to go over the list of suspects, starting with every single person that was at that party last night.”

“All of them? There were a lot of people, Alya.”

“Not that many, really. It was just our collége reunion, so let’s start with the people that actually showed. Let’s see,” she hummed, thinking back to last night. “Adrien was there with Kagami, as usual. And Luka, Juleka, and Rose all came together. Max and Alix were with Ondine and Kim, and Mylene and Ivan arrived a little later.”

“Nathaniel and Marc came too,” Marinette added, even though she thought this brainstorming session was kind of silly. She couldn’t imagine sharing a kiss with any of their old classmates. It was more likely she’d left the party alone and ran into some handsome stranger along the Seine.

“Right,” Alya nodded, adding the final names to the list. “Alright then, all done.”

“Really?” Marinette teased, glancing meaningfully at the poster-board. “You’re sure you’re not forgetting anyone? No one else comes to mind?” As Alya continued to stare at her blankly, Marinette giggled and added sweetly, “An adorable, newly engaged couple, perhaps?”

Realization dawned, and Alya chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine, me and Nino were there too, though I think it’s safe to say the only lips we were rocking last night were each other’s.” But even so, she dutifully added both names to the list, as meticulous as ever. “Now that should be everyone.”

With the list more or less complete, Marinette took a step closer to examine their handiwork. She supposed she should be grateful that Chloe, Lila, and Sabrina weren’t on the list. At least she’d have one less nightmare to contend with; if it had been any of them, she’d rather cut out her tongue and live in denial forever.

“See? We already have a pretty great suspect pool,” Alya enthused, encouraged. “So, where should we start?”

“Well, you can definitely cross off Adrien,” Marinette said morosely, though saying the words didn’t hurt nearly as much as they used to. Ever since she’d accidentally discovered he was Chat Noir, she’d found herself even further relegated to the friend zone. But since she couldn’t tell her friend that, she said instead, “He left with Kagami shortly after you and Nino.”

“Damn, girl, you sure know how to ruin my fun,” she complained and made a big show of crossing out his name—a single line wouldn’t do, oh no, he got the royal treatment. There were now four dark strikes through his name, and beside it, a face with its tongue sticking out.

Thankfully, Kagami was saved from a similar treatment. Before her friend could put a mark across the other girl’s name, Alya’s phone rang, and glancing down at the caller, the journalism intern nearly jumped two feet in the air. “Oh shoot, I have to take this,” she said as she picked up the phone and wandered clear across the room, leaving Marinette to continue thinking in peace.

But thinking was hard.

Her head continued to pound thanks to the hangover she was still fighting, a fact she knew Tikki wouldn’t let her forget anytime soon. It certainly explained why she was having so much trouble remembering any more details about the kiss. Her mother’s homemade tonic may have helped, but there was still no better cure than staying sober.

If only she could remember something, their hair or eye color, their build and height—any hint would be useful—or better yet, if Tikki would stop being stubborn and just tell her already, then the mystery would be solved and she could finally stop driving herself crazy!

And judging by the way Alya was jumping up and down in the corner, she had a sneaking suspicion her best friend wouldn’t be any more help.

Unsurprisingly, Alya hung up her phone moments later and hurried back, her hands steepled in apology. “I’m so sorry, Marinette. I know I said we’d hang until you had to leave for Kagami’s, but I just got dibs to assist on a super-exclusive interview, so tell you what—you go over our list and eliminate anyone you can, alright? And if you run into a dead-end, just start calling some of our classmates and see what they remember. I’ll call you later tonight and we’ll go over all the evidence. Hopefully by then, you’ll have gotten your answer or remembered something. How does that sound?”

“Good, I guess,” she replied, though she doubted she’d get very far.

“Great!” Grabbing her bag, the-tornado-known-as-Alya gave her a quick hug and a wave, and then disappeared through the hatch, leaving her alone with her silly suspect pool. By the time she spoke to Alya later, she had a feeling there wouldn’t be a name left on that board that didn’t have a line through it.

“You know, if you had been responsible last night instead of drinking to excess, you wouldn’t be having this problem,” Tikki chastised as she came out of hiding. It was a wonderful reminder of why she hadn’t wanted to be alone today. She loved her kwami dearly, but having to be reprimanded while nursing a hangover wasn’t exactly her definition of fun. “You’re just lucky there wasn’t an akuma last night, Marinette. Or anyone nearby to overhear you.”

“I know, Tikki. I’m sorry.”

And really, she was. It had been irresponsible and thoughtless of her. Not to mention, if Hawkmoth had attacked, Adrien would’ve been forced to fight him all alone since she would’ve been more than useless. At the time, though, she hadn’t been thinking about Hawkmoth, about Paris, about anything, really.

After watching her “friend” laugh and joke with Kagami all night, just once, she hadn’t wanted to be responsible. Just once, she hadn’t wanted to think at all. She might have resigned herself to never being with Adrien, but knowing he didn’t see her civilian self the same way he saw Ladybug, didn’t make the reality hurt any less.

So instead, she was left with the haunting memory of a kiss she couldn’t forget and a well-meaning kwami who was too noble to give her an easy way out of her misery.

Resigned, she asked: “You’re still not going to tell me who I kissed, are you, Tikki?”

“Sorry, but no,” Tikki replied as she took another bite of her cookie, and Marinette had the distinct impression she was being judged.

Despondent, she sagged against her seat, desperately wishing Alya were still here. At the very least, she could use a distraction.

. . .And when she heard a familiar thump come from somewhere above, a distraction was exactly what she got.

                                      —                     —                  —        

Chat paced across Marinette’s balcony, silently trying to pump himself up.

It was all good, it was fine. THEY were fine. It was just a kiss, nothing to get nervous and bent out of shape about. She wouldn’t be mad at him. She’d be happy, thrilled even! And when she hugged him, which she totally would, he’d convince her they were meant to be together, that this was destiny, and there was no way he was going to let Hawkmoth destroy what they had.

He had his speech memorized. His arsenal locked and loaded; hopefully, the flowers wouldn’t be overkill. And Plagg had been adequately threatened to keep quiet.

Now all he had to do was make himself move.

Staring at the trapdoor, Chat took one tiny step forward, then another, knowing his future was just within reach…

And then collapsed, his hands in his hair, the panic rising.

What if she hated him now? What if she insisted he took advantage of her and never wanted to see him again? What if she decided to take their hypothetical hamster, the very one they’d discussed in length just last week, and raise it on her own? What then?

Luckily, he didn’t have to fret for long. Without warning, Marinette’s skylight was flung open, and her beautiful face peeked through. With cat-like reflexes, Chat quickly skidded away, surprised to see her there so suddenly. 

“Chat?” she asked, a tinge of exasperation in her voice, though to him, it might as well have been music. “I thought I heard you up here. Why didn’t you come in the front door?”

Chat grimaced. He couldn’t exactly explain that it was safer this way, that despite his promise, Plagg would definitely use this opportunity to torment him. So he simply shrugged and tried not to look too guilty as he slowly crawled closer. “Sorry, I just wanted to surprise you. Surprise,” he finished lamely as he greeted her with a tiny wave. Noticing he was waving the same hand holding her flowers, he blushed in embarrassment as petals rained across her balcony. He quickly hid them behind his back. 

A forced, awkward smile settled across his face.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said as she rolled her eyes fondly, teasing. “Come inside, you silly cat. Unless you’ve got more grooming to do for a photo shoot." With a chuckle, she disappeared back inside her room. Encouraged by the fact that she hadn’t refused to see him, that she seemed happy, even, Chat followed after. A couple quick jumps later, he found himself standing in the middle of Marinette’s room.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he told her with a grin, even though he’d just been here as Adrien a few days ago, and it hadn’t changed one bit.

Marinette chuckled. “Thanks, it took a lot of work.”

Well, that cinched it. He loved her. Only Marinette would go along with his lame jokes and silly puns and not even bat an eye.

He had meant it, though—he loved her room. It was cozy and comfortable, warm, and lived-in. The complete opposite of his own. Despite being eighteen now, it hadn’t changed that much from when they were young. The walls were still her favorite color, in varying shades of pink, and she had all the same trinkets and furniture that had hardly aged a day. The only thing that had changed were the pictures she used to have of him all over her walls. At some point, they’d been replaced with photographs of all their friends and inspiring fashion pieces she’d come across in magazines.

He wasn’t sure when that had changed or even why, but it was one of the reasons he was so nervous. He knew she had liked him once, and if their conversation last night could be believed, she still did. But today, in broad daylight, without the help of wine, would she still feel the same?

“So, what brings you by?” Marinette asked curiously as Chat lovingly placed her flowers on her desk. “I thought we were going to meet at Kagami’s in a couple hours.”

Chat shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “I had some time to kill, and thought I’d spend it visiting my favorite purrincess.”

“Oh? And since she wasn’t home, you came to see me?” She put a hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. “My, my. I’m flattered, monsieur super-hero.”

Seeing an opening, he took her outstretched hand and placed a quick kiss there, his eyes searing into hers, absolutely relishing in the way she blushed. “Not as flattered as I am,” he told her, the words “my Lady” on the tip of his tongue but held back by sheer will alone.

Now wasn’t the time.

“So, did you have fun?” he asked, reluctantly releasing her hand. “At the party, I mean.”

He watched her closely for her reaction, looking for the slightest sign she was unhappy or upset or disappointed somehow. She hadn’t brought it up herself—maybe she wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, or worse, maybe she didn’t like it. Was she preparing to let him down gently AGAIN?

Marinette, unaware of his catastrophizing, shrugged as she walked towards her unrolled poster-board, fingering the corner of it thoughtfully. “It was alright, I guess,” she replied, flushed, as she glanced at him with a smile. “I’m a little iffy on some details, though.”

Chat raised a questioning eyebrow. “Oh? Why’s that?” he asked, trying his best not to sound too curious, too invested. Though it was hard.

“I guess I drank a little more than I should have,” Marinette admitted as she bit her lip in shame, irrevocably drawing his gaze. Because those were the same lips he’d finally gotten a taste of late last night. Swallowing at the memory, Chat flushed as he forced himself to look away, to act nonchalant, like he didn’t want to resume right where they’d left off.

To distract himself, his eyes followed hers. For whatever reason, he found himself staring at all the names of their old classmates written on a giant poster board. Well, not all of them, he realized. It was only the ones that had come to their reunion party last night. “Are those the details you’re iffy about?” he asked, stepping up next to her to get a better view. “You’re not class president anymore, you know. You don’t need to take roll call, Marinette.”

She swatted him playfully across the arm. “I know that. It’s just a small project I’m working on.”

“Ooh, what kind of project?”

Again she blushed, and Chat realized there was clearly something he was missing here. “Well, aren’t you a curious kitty,” she cooed, scratching him underneath his chin as he leaned into her touch. It was such a Ladybug thing to do, he couldn’t believe he hadn’t made the connection sooner. Of course, the line between Marinette and Ladybug had been blurring for a while now. Even before he learned the truth, he’d dreamt about them being the same person multiple times. And with moments like this, it wasn’t surprising why.

“Actually,” she continued haltingly, “about last night. Something did happen, but it’s all a bit of a blur. See, I—I kissed someone, but I can’t remember who it was…”

At first, her words didn’t register. Then, slowly, Chat’s eyes began to widen ever-so-slightly, understanding firing all eight cylinders.

“Wait, you mean, you forgot?” He stuttered, and realizing what he’d almost admitted, cleared his throat and continued awkwardly, “I—I mean, that’s too bad, really bad. Seems like the kind of thing you’d want to remember.”

“I know, right? I knew I shouldn’t have taken that last shot! Kim and Alix can be very persuasive.”

“So, um, what all do you remember then?”

Marinette put a finger to her chin and began to tap-tap-tap, and he thought that was just the cutest thing ever. Everything about her was cute! “Not much, to be honest. Only that the kiss was amazing.”

Chat’s cheeks went pink, and he just knew his entire face must be blazing. Not for the first time, he was glad he was still wearing his mask. “R-really? You really thought so?”

Marinette nodded as she absently tapped the poster. “Do you think it could’ve been Luka?” She asked, turning to look at him with an open and vulnerable expression. “We talked a lot last night… maybe he wanted to get back together?”

At the very thought, Chat clenched his teeth so hard his jaw hurt, and if he were really a feline, he would have hissed.

“No, it definitely wasn’t Luka,” he muttered, much sharper than intended, and when he realized Marinette was staring at him strangely, he hastened to add, “I mean, I-I saw him last night, walking with Rose and Juleka—when I was out on patrol! I’m not sure what happened with that amazing kiss,” he continued with a wink, “but I have a feeling whoever the guy was, he wouldn’t just kiss and leave. At the very least, he would’ve walked you home or called.” A thought occurred to him then, and he asked nervously, “He, um, didn’t call. Did he?”

“No, he didn’t. I guess you’re right,” Marinette confirmed, sounding almost disappointed as she picked up a marker and crossed Luka’s name off the list. Despite that, Chat couldn’t help but feel relieved as his biggest rival was summarily removed.

One down, he thought cheerfully. Only a dozen more to go!

But first, it was time to get out of this cat-suit. He could practically hear Plagg grumbling in his ear, demanding cheese and freedom. And despite the risks of releasing his unlucky kwami, he knew it was necessary. If he was going to get his heart trampled on, he was determined to do it as Adrien; Chat had enough rejection to last a lifetime.

Unfortunately, he didn’t bring any cheese. Smelling like camembert when he planned to confess to the girl he loved was the last thing he’d wanted. So he turned to his partner, prepared to beg for a small slice as tribute—“It’s on the workbench,” Marinette told him, having read his mind, and Chat followed her gaze to see she already had a plate waiting for him, piled high with a variety of gooey options.

Chat shook his head in awe.

He shouldn’t be so surprised—that’s how in sync they were. It was one of the many reasons they belonged together. And yet she never failed to take his breath away.

The urge to confess had never been so strong, so not wanting to waste another second, he commanded, “Plagg, claws in!” Like always, his entire body was enveloped in warm green light, and once it was done, he opened his eyes to see Marinette staring at him with a cute, gob-smacked expression on her face. Even a year later, she still looked at him like she was seeing it for the first time. Adorable.

He chuckled at the sight, but realizing potential disaster awaited, turned his full attention to his greedy little kwami. “Alright, Plagg, remember our deal,” he whispered, green eyes narrowed in warning. “Not a word, or you’ll be living off cottage cheese for a month.”

With twinkling, giddy eyes, his kwami scoffed. “Oh, please. Like I’d want to ruin the fun of wherever this conversation is going. Please, by all means, dig yourself in even deeper. It’ll be a joy!” And just like that, he was off, his mouth already buried in a slice of brie.

“What did Plagg mean by that?” Marinette asked, sidling up next to him.

“Nonsense, as usual,” he muttered and turned his attention back to the “suspect pool”, quietly wondering who he should eliminate next. Nathaniel used to have a crush on her, maybe he should start with him? But then he noticed his own name had already been crossed off, and there was even an unflattering drawing right next to it. “Hey, what’s this?” He complained, putting his hands on his hips, intentionally keeping his voice light. “I was eliminated before I even had a chance to compete?”

“Well, obviously, I knew it wasn’t you,” she teased, tapping him in the chest with the tip of her marker. “We’re friends, right? Besides, you already have Kagami.”

Wrong. He hadn’t been with Kagami in almost a year, ever since he started realizing he had feelings for his good friend Marinette. Of course, she’d been with Luka at the time, so he’d been forced to wait and watch, and yet, even when they finally had broken up, the perfect opportunity just never seemed to present itself.

Until last night.

“I’m not with Kagami,” he told her softly, though considering how often they still hung out, it wasn’t surprising she’d think that way. “We’re just friends, Marinette. We’ve been that way for a while now.”

The friend he absolutely didn’t want as a friend, gasped, staring up at him in disbelief. “What? I’m so sorry to hear that, Adrien. I had no idea.”

He shrugged. “It was so long ago and it was mutual. We agreed to split as soon as I realized I was in love with someone else…”

Marinette’s beautiful blue eyes widened at that revelation, and the prettiest blush colored her cheeks as she turned her attention back to the board. Her hands shook the slightest bit as she crossed Kagami’s name off the list.

“Well, you two still left together,” she said softly. “So I guess I can rule her out.”

Adrien laughed as he took the marker from her hand. “Wow, you can’t even remember the gender? You were drunk.” And though he felt the tiniest bit guilty about that, she hadn’t seemed drunk. They’d held an entire conversation before the kissing had even begun. Still, knowing that all of that build-up and ground-work had been destroyed was depressing.

“So, what do you remember? Aside from it being the best kiss in the history of kisses,” he added slyly, fighting back a grin.“You must remember something. Like, what led up to it? What color was his hair? His eyes? Do you even remember where you were at?”

“I think I remember stairs—in Montmartre,” she replied, and watched as Adrien began crossing names off the list. First, he removed Nathaniel, Alix, Kim, and Max. And after that, drew a line through Ivan and Mylene, easily eliminating half of her suspects as if it were nothing.

When she raised an eyebrow in question, Adrien shrugged, though his eyes were full of mirth. “They all hate stairs,” he said by way of explanation, and with an encouraging smile, asked, “Anything else you remember?”

Marinette dutifully looked away as she closed her eyes, searching for any details floating just out of reach. Though they both knew the answer, knew where all of this was headed.

Still, he waited patiently, allowing her to figure it out for herself. And sure enough, when her pretty bluebell eyes flew open and her lips parted in surprise, he knew she knew. “Green eyes. Blond hair,” she whispered as Adrien continued down the list, eliminating the rest of their classmates one by one, everyone who didn’t match that description. And when no one was left, he circled his own name, again and again, until it stood out like a shining star against that pure white background.

“Adrien?” she breathed, finally looking up at him.

“Surprise,” he said again, laughing lightly as he fearlessly met her gaze. But inside, he was shaking. Once more, he felt like a love-sick cat standing on a rooftop, bracing for rejection. “I came back, you know,” he told her, feeling strangely shy. “I forgot my bag and saw you sitting outside on the stairs getting some air, and we got to talking, really talking… I—I honestly can’t believe you forgot all of it.”

“Sorry,” Marinette mumbled, just as softly. “There’s a reason I don’t drink very often.”

Adrien bit back a smile, knowing the real reason behind her sobriety. After all, the savior of Paris couldn’t exactly fight Hawkmoth while intoxicated, could she? 

“Then what made you drink last night?” he asked, despite already knowing the answer, having heard them from her very lips on those stairs. Yet the selfish part of him, the part that wanted her to remember what they’d shared, needed to hear those words again. “Surely your classes at IFA couldn’t be that stressful. Not already.”

Marinette released a quiet little sigh as she nervously fingered the poster-board. “Well, why did you kiss me then?” she shot back, and Adrien laughed, not expecting her to turn this back on him so quickly. But unlike his Lady, he wasn’t afraid to be upfront and honest.

“Because I wanted to. I’ve been in love with you for a very long time now, Marinette.”

“Y-You have?!” Marinette stuttered and then stumbled, nearly tearing down her poster-board in the process—which was quite the feat, considering she’d been standing still. But as always, Adrien was there to catch her before she could fall too far, his arms around her shoulders, holding her steady.

Reluctantly, he let her go. “I have.”

“But, but I had no idea! Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why did you let everyone think you were still dating Kagami?”

“I didn’t! I didn’t even know that’s what everyone thought!” Adrien insisted, shaking his head. “I was just being friendly, and since she’s one of the few people my dad actually lets me hang out with, I had no reason not to. Besides, the only reason I ever dated her in the first place was because I couldn’t have you—you didn’t like me that way!”

“I’ve always liked you that way!”

“Well, sure, I know that now,” he complained.

“Then, so, we do like each other. Both of us,” Marinette confirmed, blushing like mad now. “And last night, on the steps, we confessed to each other . . . and I don’t remember any of it!” It took all of five seconds for Marinette to go from flustered and shy to absolutely distraught as she turned away, hands tangled in her hair.

Adrien simply took another step closer. “That’s nothing new for me,” he reminded her, having experienced an unfair amount of memory issues in the past. “But if it bothers you that much, I can always remind you what happened if you want.”

Marinette stopped pantomiming long enough to glance over at him. “Really? Y-you’d do that?”

“Of course,” he told her with a happy little laugh.

“O-okay then,” she said, staring at him, expectant and trusting.

And Adrien was determined not to disappoint. He’d give her a story she’d never forget.

“So there we were,” he began, setting the scene as he leaned towards her, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “All alone on the stairs on a beautiful night. There was romantic music drifting in from the venue, and the light from the street lamps bathed us both in a warm, soft glow—so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when you confessed your undying love for me right there on the spot.”

“I WHAT?!”

Adrien nodded, fighting back a grin. “That’s right. Apparently, you ‘couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself anymore’—those were your exact words, by the way. And you started insisting we were destined to be together, that fate and Hawkmoth, and even ‘dumb, purple butterflies’—again, your words—could never tear our love apart.”

Unsurprisingly, Marinette’s face had gone from a pale, sickly white to a bright fuchsia, so red, it was entirely possible her blood-vessels may have imploded, but Adrien continued on innocently, enjoying being able to unbalance his Lady for once. “And that’s when you kissed me. And then I kissed you, and honestly, we did a lot of kissing last night, Marinette, it’s kind of hard to keep track—but it really was as epic as you remember.”

At some point during his retelling, the love of his life had collapsed soundlessly to the floor, her legs splayed out beneath her as she stared at the rug in utter humiliation and self-reproach. And Adrien felt a little bad. But only a little.

He hadn’t exaggerated too much.

Hoping to cheer her up, he knelt down, slowly placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, like he was approaching a startled rabbit that was ready to bolt. “If it makes you feel any better, I did bring you flowers,” he reminded her, gesturing to the abandoned bouquet on her desk. “I would have given them to you last night after I brought you home, but it was too late and all the stores were closed.”

Finally, Marinette lifted her head, her cheeks slowly resuming their color as she glanced at her gift from across the room. “Flowers? Those were for me?”

“Of course,” he teased. “I don’t give flowers to just anyone, Princess.”

“But—Kagami? I thought they were for her birthday.”

Adrien’s gaze softened. “I already gave Kagami her gift last night. I bought those for you, Marinette. I couldn’t exactly come here empty-handed, could I? Not after giving you a kiss to end all kisses,” he reminded her with a wink. “Of course, if you don’t want them…”

“I DO! I want them!” Marinette insisted loudly, too loudly apparently, because her eyes instantly widened and she threw a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “I-I mean,” she floundered as she lowered her hands and gave him a dazzling smile. “Thank you, Adrien. They’re beautiful.”

And if he wasn’t kneeling, it would’ve been his turn to collapse.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied sincerely, and Marinette practically melted right there on the floor. Adrien laughed, pleased and encouraged by how open and unguarded she was being. If she was angry or regretted anything, he had no doubt she would’ve kicked him out long before now—his lady was nothing if not decisive.

And apparently delusional, because the next words out of her mouth were: “Thanks, but I’m not, not really,” and at her shy expression, Adrien scoffed so hard he nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Of course you are,” he insisted, just as loudly and as passionately. “You’re beautiful, Marinette. You’re brilliant and brave and talented and kind and just-just amazing. It’s no wonder I fell in love with you twice,” he told her, and if he thought her face couldn’t get any redder at that point, he’d be wrong. “I’m only sorry I never saw it sooner,” he continued, needing to get the words out. “That I was stupid and blind, and mistook what I felt for you as friendship when it was obviously something more.”

Marinette stared at him in wonder. “How can you say all of that so easily?” she asked him, shaking her head in disbelief. ��I-I’ve been trying to tell you that for four years now, and it took getting drunk and then blacking out before I could even get the words out!”

“Well, what’s stopping you now?” He asked, giving her an encouraging smile as he threw out his arms, opening them wide in invitation. “I’m here. I’m listening. Go on and woo me, Bugaboo.”

Marinette stared at him, completely slack-jawed. And it took waaay too long for Adrien to realize what he’d just let slip, what he’d unknowingly confessed. And just like that, he found himself at a crossroads.

“B-Bugaboo?” She repeated uncertainly.

He could deny it, of course. Could laugh it off and say she reminded him of his lady. But if he was honest with himself, Adrien was tired of the lies, tired of pretending he didn’t know. Now that everything was out in the open, it was time to be honest about everything. “Would you prefer Wonderbug, My Lady?” He asked, unable to hide his nervousness, “Or Mrs. Agreste? That’s on the table too, if you want it.”

A dreamy look entered her eyes at his suggestion which made him sit up and take notice. But just as quickly Marinette began shaking her head, as though mentally berating herself.

“But HOW did you—WHEN?”

“So, that’s a funny story, actually,” he continued, red-faced now, and absolutely dreading this conversation. Why couldn’t they just go straight back to kissing? “Last night, you may have, kind of, sort of, admitted you were Ladybug to me—not that it mattered,” he hastened to add, “I’ve known for months now!”

“YOU’VE WHAT?”

“I mean, I saw you—months ago, by accident. Not on purpose! I wasn’t following you or anything, I swear!”

Thankfully, as he rambled like an idiot, Tikki finally decided to make her presence known. Now that Marinette knew the secret was out, she had no reason to stay hidden. So, like an angry little hornet, she buzzed onto the scene, antennas twitching irritably. “That’s right, you did,” she chastised as Marinette’s look of panic increased ten-fold. “Now do you see why I was so upset with you, Marinette? That was very irresponsible: Anyone could have overheard you! You are NEVER allowed to drink alcohol again!”

“Aw, come on now, Sugar Cube,” said Plagg, flying lazily beside her. “Leave the kid alone. Humans always do stupid things when they drink. You should’ve set a better example.”

Despite Tikki turning that terrifying displeasure on her partner, Plagg didn’t even flinch. “I certainly do not drink, nor to excess,” she shot back, leveling him with a glare. “If anyone’s been a terrible influence, it’s you and that cheese addiction of yours! Do you know how difficult it’s been for her to sneak enough cheese out of the bakery to sustain your insatiable appetite?”

“No more than your macaroon addiction, I’d wager!”

“I don’t have an addiction!”

As the two kwami’s verbally sparred, Marinette stared at Adrien who stared right back, somehow their own conversation forgotten in the unexpectedness of what they were witnessing. “S-sorry,” Adrien replied at last, nodding his head towards Plagg. “He can be a bit of a glutton.”

“It’s really not that much cheese,” she hastened to assure him as Plagg laughed derisively at Tikki’s latest rant. For some reason, they were now talking about the extinction of the dinosaurs. As one, the two found themselves naturally gravitating away from the arguing kwami’s, and both took a seat on her lounge chair, looking uncomfortable as they watched.

“I’ve never seen them fight before,” Marinette whispered, her own worries and fears suddenly seeming small while watching two ancient, tiny gods verbally duking it out.

“I know, right? Plagg doesn’t usually get this passionate about anything other than camembert. I didn’t even realize he was capable.”

Marinette sighed, realizing she wasn’t going to get any helpful guidance from Tikki anytime soon. “So, what do we do now?” She asked, turning so she was facing him directly, though her expression was worried. “I’m the guardian now, Adrien. Doesn’t that bother you? What if we get together and I forget all about you after passing on the miraculous?”

Adrien laughed, though it was filled less with amusement and more with resignation. “You mean like how you forgot everything last night?” He teased, knocking his shoulder playfully against hers. “I’ve got news for you, princess, as long as Hawkmoth is around, nothing between us is ever going to be easy. But you’re worth it. WE’RE worth it. And if you do forget me,” he continued warmly, “well then, I’ll get to enjoy making you fall in love with me all over again. I can be very persuasive, you know.”

The way her cheeks flushed at his comment seemed to suggest she agreed whole-heartedly. But Adrien wasn’t done. As if afraid the words would fester and rot, he knew they had to be said.

“I still love you, Marinette. The feelings I had for you back when we were in collége, when I only knew you as Ladybug—they never went away. There will never be anyone for me but you. You’re not just my partner, you’re my best friend and the only person who knows me so completely, inside and out.” Praying she could feel his sincerity, he took her hand in his. “So please don’t tell me last night was a mistake.”

Marinette stared down at their linked hands and to his relief didn’t pull away. Instead, she met his gaze without fear or hesitation and gently squeezed his hand in return. “I know I wasn’t in my right mind last night but I meant every word I said. All of it,” she told him, her lip quivering as a bright and beautiful smile broke free. “I love you too, Adrien. Even after learning you were Chat Noir, my feelings for you only grew. I love you, my chaton. I always have.”

It may not have been very manly to tear up, but he had waited YEARS to hear those words. Feeling overwhelmed, relieved, and loved at last, Adrien wiped his eyes with the back of his arm. “My lady…”

“Oh, for crying out loud, would you two just KISS already?” Plagg complained, apparently taking a break from tormenting Tikki just to torment them.

Adrien, who had been staring lovingly at Marinette, shrugged helplessly. “Permission to show you exactly what you forgot?” he asked as he leaned closer, lips quirked, and only a breath away.

“I am a bit fuzzy on the details.”

“I can definitely fix that.”

Carefully placing an arm around her waist, Adrien pulled Marinette even closer, drawing her in for a heart-stirring kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet and every bit as amazing as promised. He kissed her slowly, reverently, like they had all the time in the world because this time he was determined to make sure she didn’t forget a single thing.

Though neither of them knew what the future might bring, one thing they knew for certain: Separate, they were already pretty amazing. Together, they would be miraculous.

THE END

[evabellasworld]

Storm of the Republic

Chapter 31

AO3 Link | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31

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Summary:  When Tup murdered General Tiplar during a battle, Anakin Skywalker and Captain Rex dispatched Ahsoka, Fives, and Yara to solve the mystery that was plaguing the Clone Army. Meanwhile, Senator Padme Amidala contacted Commander Fox, Commander Tori, Riyo Chuchi, and Dipper to help her continue investigating the death of Palpatine, suspecting that Dooku was behind the evil plot. But when Dooku send an ISB agent to stop them, the team had to race against time to search for the truth, which could alter the course of the galaxy.

————————————————————————————

As the lift was going down, Riyo and Dipper were standing next to each other in silence, with both their respective files and their weapons in their hands. The latter bit his lip as he constrained himself from shaking, as he does not want to worry the senator. It’s only been a minute since he was at Palpatine’s penthouse, and his guts don’t feel good.

On the other hand, Riyo was peeking through the files, hoping to learn something from the Chancellor’s death. From what she’ve gathered, she finally learned how the Chancellor died. “Cyanide poisoning?” she exclaimed, catching Dipper’s attention.

“Wait, what?”

“The cause of death for Chancellor Palpatine was cyanide poisoning,” Riyo showed the autopsy report to him. Dipper snatched the report from her hand and skimmed through the details that were written, making his eyes grow wider.

“And it was through the ingestion of cherry pits,” Dipper pointed out. “Meaning, the Chancellor had eaten something that had cherry pits inside and died.”

“But what would he eat that has cherry pits inside?” she raised one of her eyebrows. “So far as I’m aware, the Chancellor is known for his clean diet. He would touch nothing that is sweet, unless someone offered him.”

He scratched his chin as he glanced at the ceiling, humming to himself. “Do you remember who was the last to meet the Chancellor?”

“Well, as far as I know, Senator Amidala and Senator Organa were the last ones to see him before his death. From what I could recall, they were having a discussion about the Clone Rights’ Act, which would allow you and your comrades to have the same rights as sentient beings.”

“That’s nice of you, though it was a shame it didn’t go as planned.”

Riyo frowned. “Yeah, it is a shame.”

Before Dipper could ask her more about the details about Palpatine, the lift suddenly halted on the 45th floor. The lights were cut off, leaving the both of them standing in complete darkness. Riyo could only lean against the wall as the ARC Trooper let out a vulture-like scream, collapsing on the floor.

She clutched her sweaty hands on the railings as her eyes scanned for Dipper in pitch-black. “Dipper, where are you?”

He responded to her with an ear-shattering screech, prompting her to let go of the rail and tiptoed towards the sound, hoping she wouldn’t step onto his palm. Unfortunately, since Riyo doesn’t own a night vision hence, one of her feet landed on his right hand, making him continue his scream.

“Fuck, my arms,” Dipper cried, holding his throbbing palms.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologised, feeling his face. “I can’t really see you, so please forgive me.”

He nodded as he got up from the floor, grabbing her arms. “It’s alright, Ri. It’s not your fault, anyway.”

She turned her head around her surroundings, hearing nothing but silence. To her knowledge, they were the only ones in this building. There was no one else living here anymore, at least that’s what she thinks. Riyo’s heart was racing like a hamster on a wheel as she tried to comprehend her current situation.

Dipper still thinks they weren’t the only ones. He thought it was strange that the late Chancellor’s penthouse was well-maintained while the rest of the building was completely broken down. He also felt that he was being watched like a hawk, which made cocked his blaster.

“I have a feeling someone sabotaged the lift,” he speculated, switching on his flashlight. “And whoever it is, they knew about our plan from the beginning.”

“But we’re the only ones who knew about the files in Palpatine’s penthouse, though.”

“True, but Padmé receives this information from an Imperial agent, which means it could be possible that she was behind all of this.”

Riyo wants to agree, but she is dying to crawl out of this lift. “Do you have any plans on how to get out of here?”

Dipper gave a nod as he pointed his flashlight towards the vent above them. “I’ll help you up and you do the same for me, got it?”

“And then what?”

“And then, we climbed towards the entrance of the 35th floor. It’s like stealing candy from a baby, you know.”

“With all due respect, Dipper, this is extremely dangerous,” she commented. “What if we both die?”

His voice turned shaky. “Well, I’ve calculated everything and there’s an 80 percent chance it would work.”

“But hey there’s a 20 percent chance of failure.”

Dipper sighed and offered his hand to her. “You just have to trust me, alright? Besides, I’ve done something like this before and I’m still here.”

The former senator took a deep breath and nodded as she climbed onto his shoulders, passing the files to him. The ARC Trooper handed her a screwdriver, and she unlocked the vent on the ceiling with ease. Her father taught her how to use the screwdriver when she was younger, and Riyo was grateful that she could apply his knowledge in this tense situation.

As she climbed inside, Riyo found herself on top of the lift and saw the entrance to the 35th floor, which was as dark as the tunnel she’s in. Using his grappling hook, Dipper joined the senator and passed the files back to her, safe and sound.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Riyo smiled. “Though it would be better if you told me you had a grappling hook earlier.”

“Sorry about that, Ri. It slipped out of my mind again.”

“No worries. Now we’ll just have to get to that entrance.”

“That is my speciality,” Dipper wiggled his eyebrows as he attached his grappling hook by the entrance and held onto Riyo tightly.

Stepping on concrete ground, they both panted as they let go of each other. Drenched in her own sweat, she glanced at Dipper, who was lying down from exhaustion. Riyo was tempted to do the same since her legs were aching, but time was not on their side.

“We should go,” Riyo suggested, helping him stand on his two feet. “We can’t linger her any longer.”

“The stairs are just down there,” Dipper said, dusting his clothes. “It won’t take long.”

Without further ado, the duo headed to the building’s stairs and climbed down every floor they stumbled into. The stairs were in disarray, with garbage dispersed all over and termites droppings found on the bannisters.

Dipper was indifferent towards his surroundings, but Riyo’s lips squirmed as her forearms shivered. The once luxurious buildings, which were often cleaned every single day, were now left in dust, letting nature take control.

“Sad that no one lives here anymore,” Riyo expressed, glancing at the termite wings on the floor. “This place used to be lively, you know.”

“Must be a lot of fiestas happening here,” he replied. “Now, it’s a place full of pests.”

“So, what floor are we on now? My limbs are killing me.”

“We have 15 floors to go.”

“What? I feel like I’ve been here for hours.”

Dipper agreed with her. “Yeah, me too, but we can’t keep the commanders waiting. They must be worried about her.”

Riyo chuckled. “Especially Fox. He’s always on guard.”

“So is Tori. She gets worked up if anything happens to us, or the general.”

“I can’t blame her, considering she lost the twins six months ago. They were both good kids.”

“Yeah, they were,” Dipper responded in a low voice, stopping mid-track. “I miss them a lot. Lira and Eva made us feel like we’re more than just clones. They loaned us books and toys and they also encouraged us to think for ourselves too. It’s not the same without them, you know.”

She placed her hands on his shoulder. “I know, and I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We should get going. There are 10 more floors to cover.”

“Right behind you, trooper.”

As they continued climbing down the stairs for what seemed to be an eternity, Dipper and Riyo saw glints of sunlight in front of them. With a glimmer on their faces, the duo rushed towards the outdoor and found Fox and Tori standing in front of their speeder, who waved at them.

“What took you so long?” Fox barked, his eyes darted towards Riyo. “We were worried about you two.”

“We were stuck in a lift,” she squeezed his hands. “But Dipper and I managed so we’re all good.”

“Did you get the files at least?” Tori asked, her arms crossed.

Riyo showed the files to them, making her sigh in relief.

“I still think something is not right,” Dipper raised his concerns to them. “The rest of the building did not have electricity except for Palpatine’s penthouse, which is weird, if you asked me.”

Fox rubbed his chin for a moment before clearing his throat. “We should head back right now. Senator Amidala must be worried sick waiting for us.”

“Agree,” Tori said, hopping onto the speeder.

[aclosetfan]

To be written ideas: Number 16

Thanks for playing along!! @kayyee also asked for 16!

haha omg I haven't touched #16 in like four years. Okay, don't judge me, but i've got it titled in my outlines folder as "PowerPossible"

The outline's pretty long. i've actually shortened it for you all lol. Please let me know if you want to hear more about this one!! I can talk about it for a while :) Read below the cut for all of it!

this story's the obligatory Human/tmnt/Kim Possible-ish AU. The girls are NOT related and have no powers (in the beginning).

Family dynamics:

BC: Professor and Ms. Keane are her parents, she has a little brother named Ken (ppgz reference ;p). According to BC, Ken is their favorite child. She's just jealous because Ken has more in common with the Professor, who BC truly adores. She and the Professor have trouble relating because she's into sports, he's not. However, the Professor and her are more alike than she knows. Ms. Keane is still a kindergarten teacher and is the reason their family moves to Townsville.

Bubbles: Her parents died when she was young and now, she lives with her grandparents, the Mayors! The Mayor is still the Mayor of Townsville. (btw Im 85% sure that canonically his last name is also Mayor) The Mayor is under HIM's thumb, and when he finally messes up one too many times, HIM has him "taken care of." However, that's like towards the middle (?) of the story. So, in the end, Bubbles only has her grandmother.

Blossom: Two moms! Ms. Bellum and an unidentifiable second mother, who isn’t important (lol). 2nd mother isn't dead or anything, and she's happily married to Ms. Bellum--she's literally just one of those "mentioned in passing characters who are constantly out of town." Ms. Bellum is the Mayor's secretary, which Blossom uses to her advantage.

PLOT

The story starts out with the girls in kindergarten. Bubbles and Blossom are friends because Bubbles is the only person who doesn't think nerdy lil Blossom is annoying/socially awkward/too smart for her own good. Blossom in turn doesn't make fun of Bubbles being a crybaby. Buttercup's kind of a bully, but she's really just mad that her family had to move to Townsville. Ms. Keane (BC's mother) finally has enough of Buttercup's rebellious attitude and makes her sit with Bubbles and Blossom. Together the three girls find themselves in a confusing and troublesome situation: what happened to their class pet Twiggy??? (that hamster in that one episode). They solve the mystery (i.e. Mitch), and Ms. Keane frees Buttercup from the "loser lame-o sissy table." Except Buttercup ends up staying because *spoilers* they become best friends. (and she likes solving mysteries with them)

FASTFORWARD TO HIGHSCHOOL-ISH AGE

The girls are as thick as thieves and have a bad habit of sticking their noses where they don't belong. Blossom's the brains of the operation, Buttercup the muscle, and Bubbles is the obligatory "guyssss you promised we were going to the mall today not solving crime!" (Like Arnold from the Magic School bus who's like "oh please let this be a normal field trip!" And everyone is like "With Bloss and BC?! No Way!")

They've hit a "mystery" dry spell. At this point, none of their "mysteries" have been high stakes. Just petty stuff, but BC wants more. After another bust, she goes home and overhears her father (who's still a high-profile scientist) on the phone talking about the "odd mutant/monster-like" sightings that happened a few days ago in Townsville Central Park. Buttercup takes it as an opportunity to 1) help her dad and win his favor (that she already has smh) and 2) to break the dry spell she and the girls were going through, so they set off to investigate. To protect their identities, the girls essentially "mask up" and by the end of the story are described by the Townsville News as vigilantes.

Eventually, the girls stumble headfirst into Townsville's underbelly and the adults in their lives are all connected. They find that there is in fact a mutant uprising that has an overwhelming connection to the Professor, his ex-lab partner, the Mayor, and a mysterious man only referred to as HIM. And, of course, Chemical-X. X was the once abandoned project of the Professor and his once lab partner Mojo Jojo. It was supposed to be a miracle medicine! Now, in Townsville's underbelly, it's a popular/very dangerous drug/commodity.

At one point in the past, during a fit of rage, Mojo had mutated himself with an unstable vial of the chemical—accidentally--and fleed with the only "perfect" vial. He runs into a sickly man (who becomes HIM) and is conned out of the chemical. HIM takes the chemical and it "cures" him from his disease. It also gives him "superpowers." (NOTE: chemical-x superpowers varies person to person) However, the chemical is also unstable, and now HIM wants (NEEDS) a better formula, one that isn’t tainted (as Mojo still cannot figure out how to make it correctly) and will do anything for it. This is something that HIM believes the Professor can do. So, the Professor is essentially blackmailed into working for HIM (like most everyone who is in a position of power in Townsville). It's an expensive endeavor, so HIM sells the "almost perfect" batches (which in small doses can make a person feel invincible, but is highly addictive) to the crime syndicates. If you take an "almost perfect" version of Chemical-X, you generally need to keep micro-dosing to stay alive or your body starts to fail. (This is why HIM needs that PERFECT version)

Unbeknownst to everyone, The Professor was only ever able to perfect the formula once and it was by complete accident. (the version HIM had gotten was very close to perfect, but not all the way). Even the Professor doesn't know how he did it. (But that's because it wasn't the Professor who had perfected it--the Girls had done it accidentally during a sleepover in middle school (which the ever studious Blossom had recorded in her notebook). The Girls had been playing "scientist."

However, the Professor HAS figured out an Antidote-X. Again results vary. His version works best on the lab rats the original research group had experimented on. Blossom ends up perfecting Antidote-X for humans and the Girls are able to reserve mutations they come across on their "patrols", which pisses HIM off to no end, resulting in a bounty on their head. (He doesn't like the lose in profits)

As more mutants begin to appear and HIM becomes more frustrated at the lack of progress, Townsville becomes a darker place. At the height of this frustration, he kills the Mayor (who was wanting to break ties with HIM b/c of Bubbles' pleading). At that point, the Girls know who HIM is and what he is capable of. Since they have no one of authority to turn to that can stop HIM, they work together to create the perfected chemical-x like they had all those years ago in hopes that they can appease HIM and free the Professor.

The Girls figure out the formula, and in a race to save the City and, most importantly, the Professor, they confront HIM. Because they're kids, they naively think that they can trade the formula for BC's dad. It doesn't end up working out as they planned. In the end, HIM injects BC w/chemical-x (PERFECTED version), and she gains superhuman powers. To keep the ending vague, the Girls end up saving the day ;)

Important Characters the Girls Encounter:

Amoeba Brothers: the brothers are the first failed chemical-x test created by the Professor's research team that did not result in death. They haunt the sewers after they escaped the lab. They are the Girls first encounter with the mutations/mutants running rampant in the City

Gang Green Gang: Delinquents chosen by the City to be injected. Again, the tests failed. Had temporary "powers" but they teetered off quickly and the boys permanently stayed green (weird side-effect)

Bunny: Sad. She is also a failed test, but she is mutated while the Girls are actively investigating the case. She has super strength and was able to break out of the lab. The Girls hunt her down and they end up trying to help her. However, she passes away. This has a lasting effect on the girls.

Sedusa: she's definitely in the story idk how yet. lol. I just really like her as a character.

Princess: For financial support, HIM promised Mr. Morebucks that'd he'd give Princess superpowers like she wanted when the formula is perfected. But she’s mad, impatient, and power-hungry. In the end, sick of HIM's games and the Professors inability to give her what she wants, she injects herself with the chemical. It works for a bit, and HIM's like "holy shit did we do it??" but after a few days, she becomes unstable. (Her death is captured during live television b/c she makes her superhero debut a Whole Thing). Knows Blossom and Bubbles b/c of their parents. Doesn't like them. Doesn't bother to learn BC's name. Just canonically a brat.

The RRB: Adopted by HIM (and Mojo) "out of the goodness of their hearts." (PR stunt). They were really adopted to be test subjects, but HIM ended up liking them more than anticipated, so HIM decided that they'd be injected AFTER chemical-x is perfected. Absolute shit-heads. They can do whatever they want and no one can tell them "no." They cause havoc for the Girls to keep them off HIM's tail. Drive futuristic motorcycles that leave "light trials." Mad that they can't pin down who the Girls are.

[ahtohallan-calling]

chapter 24 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

They all crowded around Anna’s shoulder, waiting with bated breath as she finished choosing a filter for the photo. “Wait,” Kristoff said suddenly, “should we check with Lena about this?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Fuck Lena,” she said cheerfully, and pressed post.

---

It was, all things considered, not a particularly interesting day when it happened; it had been a scorcher of a late-July afternoon, and when Kristoff came home from the clinic he found Anna in the backyard lounging in a beach chair she’d finally caved and bought at Target when she could no longer get comfortable lying on a towel spread over the grass.

“Hi, honey,” she said around a mouthful of an orange push pop; the empty box had fallen over by her chair.

He laughed and leaned down to kiss her, setting his palm against the swell of her stomach. “Good thing I bought another box of those on my way home.

Anna thought nothing of it when the baby kicked in response; he’d done so for a while now at the sound of his father’s voice, but Kristoff froze, his face only an inch away from hers as his eyes widened.

Worried, she tilted her head. “Is everything alright?”

He swallowed hard. “Did you feel that?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been feeling a lot of-- wait. Did you?”

He nodded, slowly, and as they stared at each other, stunned, another kick came, sharp enough this time that Anna yelped in surprise. “Okay, you had to have felt that one,” she groused. 

Kristoff nodded again, faster this time, as a laugh spilled from his lips. “It’s him,” he said, his eyes still wide. “I-- that’s him, Anna.”

Her eyes softened. “You know, we really ought to think of something to call him. I’m worried he’s going to get offended.”

A third kick came in response, and they both took it as a sign of agreement.

---

Sources say Westergaard has spent the past six weeks hiding out in his summer home in the Hamptons. When asked for comment, his representative told Buzzfeed, “Mr. Westergaard’s previous remarks were taken out of context and twisted by the media. He will be starting an anti cyberbullying foundation in his name. He asks that you respect his privacy during this difficult time.”

Sven looked up from the article Kristoff had printed and handed to him. “Shit, how the hell can anybody have a difficult time at a mansion in the Hamptons?”

“Show a little sympathy. The man’s just had to face the consequences of his actions for the first time in his life,” Kristoff said with a smirk. 

“Ought to hang out with a pregnant woman more often, he’d learn his lesson really quickly about the consequences of-- oh, hey, Anna,” Sven said with a grimace. “You, uh, you forgiven me yet for getting onions on the pizza?”

She scowled and crossed her arms, her eyes shooting daggers at him across the room, and he sighed and picked up his phone to order a new one.

---

“Anna?” 

She yelped in surprise and tugged the shower curtain back, coming face to face with a frowning Kristoff. “Jesus, you scared me. What’s wrong?”

“Sorry-- it’s just…” He frowned and held up his phone. “How does Twitter know I’m a vet?”

The bubbles in her hair forgotten, she leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “What? It’s just a picture of us leaving Chipotle.”

“Huh? Oh-- shit, sorry, let me scroll down to the replies.”

He pushed his glasses further up his nose as he did so before raising the phone screen again. “Look, they’re all sending me hamsters.”

She knew he was genuinely worried, and she was sympathetic, really she was, but Anna burst into laughter. “A hamster eating a banana.”

“Yeah, and they’re not supposed to even eat that much, so the bad pet ownership is bad enough already, but-- anyway, that’s beside the point, I--” He scowled. “Anna, I really don’t think this is funny.”

“It’s just a meme, Kristoff.”

“But I don’t get it.”

“Look at the picture of us again, and then the hamster, and then get back to me,” she said, yanking the shower curtain closed again. 

“But--”

“If you still haven’t gotten the joke by the time I figure out how to shave my ankles, then I’ll come explain.”

Twenty minutes later, when she emerged wrapped in a towel, she peered into the bedroom and saw Kristoff sitting on the bed, his face bright red, as he stared down at his phone. “Solve the mystery yet?” she asked drily as she dug through his t-shirt drawer for something to wear.

“My, uh, my little brother, he uh...he knows about memes, so I texted him, and I...uh…”

She laughed again as she finished getting dressed. “Did he laugh at you, too?”

He groaned and ran a hand over his face. “Pretty sure he’s still laughing.”

---

“Anna! Anna! Miss Arendelle!” She rolled her eyes and tightened the drawstring of her hoodie. Kristoff put an arm protectively over her shoulders as they continued hurrying out of the doctor’s office. “Miss Arendelle, please, if I could just--”

“You can not.”

“We just want to know if it’s a boy or a--”

She turned on her heel and said drily, “It’s a mountain troll, obviously.” She gestured irritably at Kristoff. “See? Takes after his father.”

The next morning, she woke up to the ding of a text from Sam. Maybe you really are better off being your own PR person.

A link to another Buzzfeed article was attached. Curious, she tapped it.

Watch Anna Arendelle’s Hilarious Comeback To A Nosy Photographer!

“Would you look at that,” she mumbled under her breath.

Next to her, Kristoff stirred and rolled over. “Look at what?” he mumbled.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep, mountain man.”

---

Anna came home from a meeting one night and caught Kristoff piled up in the recliner reading one of her pregnancy books. To her surprise, his face was ghost-white. “Kris,” she asked, concerned, “what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Just, you know, reading about the labor part.”

“Is it grossing you out that bad?” She couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re a vet, I’m sure you’ve seen worse. Especially with this stuff.”

He looked up then, and to her surprise, his eyes were solemn behind his glasses. “It’s different when you’re picturing your fiancee.”

All the air in her lungs escaped her in a quiet oh. She crossed quickly to the bed and climbed up, crawling towards him. He set the book on the nightstand and looked up at her, worry still in his eyes, as she settled her knees on either side of his lap. Out of habit, he set one hand on the swell of her stomach, the faintest of smiles appearing on his face when a little foot nudged against his hand.

“It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart,” she said softly, settling her own hands on his shoulders. “It’ll all be fine.”

“Sometimes it’s not, though.” 

She winced, and immediately he was apologetic. “I-- shit, sorry, I’m not trying to scare you, it’s just--”

“No, no, you’re right,” she reassured him, gently squeezing his shoulders. “Sometimes it’s not. But it will be. You know me, I’m too stubborn to let anything go wrong.”

“I don’t think it works like that.”

She bit her lip; she had never seen him like this, never known him to be so nervous he couldn’t be comforted. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against his. “What part is scaring you?” she asked, her voice low.

“I don’t want to see you hurting. Especially when I know I can’t do anything to help.”

“You can help. Just having you in there will do so much.”

“But it won’t stop it,” he said, his voice forlorn, and she kissed his cheek, letting her lips linger there as she nuzzled her nose against his temple.

“No. But that’s what epidurals are for.”

“What if--” he said before trailing off, not daring to even give voice to the words.

“Kristoff Bjorgman, you listen to me,” she said, pulling back and waiting to continue until he reluctantly met her gaze. “I have no doubt in my mind that everything will be fine. Okay? I just-- I just won’t let anything bad happen.”

“But you can’t--”

“Have you ever seen anything stop me from doing what I want before?”

She felt him shake his head no. 

“So nothing will stop me this time. I’m going to have this baby-- our baby-- and we’re both going to be fine, and you will too, and when we get to hold him, then you’ll forget you were ever worried about this at all.”

---

Anna and the interviewer both threw back their heads with a laugh as Mattias finished telling them both about his first time at the Oscars and how he’d failed to recognize the man who’d just won Best Actor-- twice.

“How about you, Miss Arendelle?” the interviewer asked as Anna finished wiping the last tear of laughter from her eye. “How do you feel about going to your first Oscars next year?”

She felt her cheeks coloring. “Oh, well, we’ll see if we even get there.”

The interviewer laughed. “Modest as always. There’s already lots of Oscar buzz around the movie and your performance in particular.”

Anna shifted awkwardly in her seat. “Um. Sort of like puking, if I’m honest.”

That got them both laughing again. “Speaking of puking, though,” the interviewer said cheerfully, “what’s it like being a first-time mother and a first-time movie star simultaneously?”

“Amazing and terrifying and wonderful and just...so many things all at once,” she admitted. “I really couldn’t do it without my support network, especially my fiance. It’s just...yeah. I can’t thank everybody enough.”

“Speaking of your fiance...are you willing to share your thoughts on where in the world Hans Westergaard has run off to?”

Her lips curled up into a smirk.

---

“Remind me to get more tomato juice at Trader Joe’s today,” Anna called as she pored through another script that had been sent her way-- another period drama, but this one, at least, wouldn’t involve squeezing her recently-pregnant body into a corset.

“We don’t need to,” he replied as he came into the kitchen carrying a basket of freshly dried towels. “You’ve been going through it so fast this week I set up one of those Amazon weekly delivery things. There’ll be three gallons of it on the porch in--” He glanced at his watch. “An hour. Wanna help me fold all this shit and watch HGTV?”

She stared at him for a long moment as he passed her, absentmindedly whistling one of the songs she’d driven him crazy with that winter, and walked into the living room.

It occurred to her, all of a sudden, that some things were worth waiting for-- but that sometimes, there was no longer any worth in waiting.

“Kris?” she said as he set the basket down.

“Yeah, baby?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as she crossed over to him and stood between his knees.

She cupped his face in her hands, studying his expression as he smiled softly and set his own hands on her hips. “Can I say something crazy?”

“You usually don’t bother asking.”

Under normal circumstances, she would have laughed and leaned down to kiss him, but instead she broke into a wide smile. “What if we just got married?”

[lovemesomesurveys]

created by: allwrongx - Bzoink

Do you have a bookshelf? If so, just one or how many? Yeah, just one tall one as of now. I definitely need to get another one because this one is stuffed. 

If you answered yes to the above, are your books ordered in a special way? The series are grouped together, but otherwise no.

Have you ever owned action figures? Yeah.

Why did you last smile? Because of something in a video I was watching earlier.

Do you have a close relationship with your immediate family? Yes.

If I gave you twenty bucks what would you do with it? I’d put it towards my Doordash order that I will be doing later.

If dinosaurs could be tamed, would you want one as a pet? Uh, no. Definitely not.

Do you crack your knuckles, neck or toes constantly? My knuckles and neck.

Are you constantly catching colds or other sicknesses? No, which always strikes me as odd cause I feel like due to health reasons I would. I do feel unwell and crappy a lot, though, due to said health reasons.

Is there a movie from your childhood that you still watch today? Yeah, a ton.

Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show? Many times. I’ve even gone to a few watch parties where it’s super interactive. 

Where do you do most of your shopping? For clothes, Boxlunch and Hot Topic. For food, Walmart and our nearby grocery store. For other things, it varies and depends on what it is.

Are you afraid of mice? Yes.

What type of souvenir do you usually purchase when on vacation? I like to get t-shirts or hoodies, keychains, maybe a magnet, and whatever else I find that interests me.

Do you vacation often? No, unfortunately. It’s been a lot less the past few years. With COVID now, who knows when I’ll vacation again. I’m so glad I was able to go on a Disneyland trip right before the pandemic and quarantine hit. I had no idea that would be the last time for a long time.

Are you comfortable wearing your pajamas in public places? Yeah. My pajamas and “day” clothes are the same items: leggings and oversized graphic tees.

What's your favorite candy bar? White chocolate. 

Do you own more than one copy or edition of a book? No.

If you could see any musical on Broadway right now, what would it be? None at the moment.

If you could put any person or characters face on money, whose would it be? Uhhh.

The place that you'd most like to be right now is where? Right here in my bed.

Do large crowds make you anxious? Very. I get anxious and overwhelmed. 

Do you own a helmet of any sorts? Nope.

Will you willingly sing in front of other people besides your family? Nooo.

What's in the box? I have no idea. 

Does your family generally decorate for most holidays? Just for Christmas, really. Especially me.

Would you take the chance to be Nancy Drew or The Hardy Boys for a day? No, but I love Nancy Drew books. Those were some of my favorites as a kid. I still love mysteries, but I like solving them as a reader, comfy in bed, ha.

Do you eat soup when you're sick? Sometimes. That’s when I’m really sick and I’m just trying to get something in my stomach.

Is there a specific mug or coffee cup that you have to use all of the time? Not have to, but yeah I have my favorites.

Have you ever watched Doctor Who? Nope. I’ve never had an interest in checking out.

If so, what do you think is the scariest creature yet? --

Do you prefer to do your shopping online or in person? Online, definitely. I do all my shopping online now, but even pre-COVID I was doing quite a bit of it online the past few years.

If you read, which book or series did you enjoy most as a child? Like I mentioned, Nancy Drew was one of them. I also loved Goosebumps, The Babysitter’s Club, Ramona and Beezus, Sweet Valley High, Judy Blume books, etc.

Do you read tour guide type books before you visit places? No. I Google places, though.

Would you please belt out a few song lyrics here? “I’m desperate for changing, starving for truth. I’m closer to where I started, I’m chasing after you.”

How do you get rid of your hiccups? Nothing seems to work, I just have to wait ‘em out.

Is there one saying that you've adopted from someone/somewhere else? Of course. I feel like that’s a common occurrence that happens for everyone.

Do you buy Halloween candy when it's on sale after the holiday? I used to.

Why is your favorite teacher your favorite? My 4th grade teacher, who also ended up teaching 8th grade and I got to have him again, will always be a favorite of mine. He was just such an awesome teacher. He really cared about education and helping students. He made learning fun. He was also just really funny and cool. He was everyone’s favorite.

Who can never fail to make you laugh? My doggo.

Do you agree with the "they're just being kids" excuse? Uhh, depends on what they’re doing?

How many pets have you had in your lifetime? 4 doggos, 2 hamsters, and numerous fish.

Were you ever afraid of monsters under your bed? Nah.

Would you kindly recommend your favorite movie to me? I have a ton of favorites from various genres.

[fluffyplushiez]

★BYF/DNI★

Behold, the new generation of the Secret Monster Intelligence League of Equestria, or more of, there most recent and highly ranked members.

From left to right:

Moonshine: daughter of a quite literal god Discord and the profoundly named astrologist Moondancer, Moonshine is a powerhouse, and one of if not the most threatening agent to deal with. She can stand in her normal form on her hind legs at a whopping 12+ feet, has the talons of a raven and dragon, and claws of a lion, as well as two magical horns that can be used as a battering ram if need be, and that’s not even mentioning her magic. Those who’ve managed to see her unfathomable magical abilities, and manage to be on her good side to be able to live and tell the tale, say that she can quite literal conjure anything she wants if she puts her mind to it, and that her only real limits are multiple magical things at once (kinda hard to conjure a hurricane and lava plume at once). She also possesses mind control, ranging from controlling others actions to leaving them in a hallucinogenic nightmare created by herself. Though extremely magically gifted at birth, she does have a lot to thank towards her father for teaching how to hone her abilities, particularly in her first years as an agent, she had many issues with not being such a loose cannon with her powers, and occasionally this happens now, although more rare. She is able to be injured in combat, but it’s been found so far that her body, whether it be due to her magic or her species, that wounds only last a couple of hours, if not minutes depending on the wounds severity. Needless to say, Moonshine is S.M.I.L.E’s biggest powerhouse, but she is only needed in the most dire of situations, given her ability to be a loose cannon, and often get civilians involved when in contact with these monsters (whether intentionally or unintentionally), and that she’s more interested in the fights with these beasts itself then the hunting down of them. Moonshine joined due to her want to help others with her extreme magical abilities, that and the monster battling sounded badass. Moonshine mostly deals with otherworldly monsters/non sentient beings, ranging from octopus aliens coming to mind control all of equestria citizens, to a giant hamster with the power to open wormholes with its eyes.

Green Tea: daughter of the element of kindness Fluttershy, and the town hippy and stoner Treehugger, nobody expected her to rise up in the ranks so quickly, or to even join due to her upbringing, but her vampire genes proved them wrong. Green tea’s species is the result of a spell gone wrong on her mother years ago involving the mane six, and her mother ended up with what’s called (in recent times) the vampire's curse. Although this curse has been heard of for millennia, it hasn’t been seen in recent years, and not just due to its rarity, but due to the dwindling down of cases of those with said curse passing it on to others via bites, as well as the curse stopped being passed down the gene pool in certain families. Green tea and her mother didn’t get so lucky however, and green tea was born as a vampire bat pony, giant teeth and everything. This curse does have its perks to combat its issues however, ranging from hypnosis abilities, giant fangs, extreme speed and flight, as well as amazing abilities to hunt due to their heightened hearing and smell abilities. Although best avoidable, green tea can infect other ponies/monsters via her fangs, but luckily she can mostly just use them as a threat (or just use moonshine as the attacker, to prevent spread of her curse). Green tea is seen as the best hunter of the three, and her only downfall/weakness seems to be nights of a full moon, where her vampirism can quite literally over take her, and cause her to attack innocent people, if not her own teammates. Green Tea joined alongside Moonshine, but for more personal reasons. After attacking a family friend in her vampirism state, she vowed to never hurt anyone again, but after some long talks, moonshine convinced her that she could use this power for good. “If you’re gonna turn into some crazy vampire badass who can maim people, why not do it on some monsters?”. Green tea mostly deals with Equestrian monsters, ranging from bugbears to hydras, but she has been known and seen helping moonshine with otherworldly entities and threats.

Shell Scavenger: daughter of the element of laughter Pinkie Pie, and the princess of seaquestria Skystar, Scavenge is the part of the espionage/classic spy type of S.m.i.l.e. Despite her loving and caring nature, she is not a force to be reckoned with. Skills ranging from espionage, infiltration, professional torture, treasure and monster hunting skills of all the like, Shell Scavenger is the most intelligent of this trio, and is often the one to crack down and break dead cases wide open. Scavenger has many combat skills as well as her practical ones, with talons filed to cut manes in half, and the agility and combat skills of evading enemies, you don’t want to end up in a fight with her, especially if you live. She’s not one to give up on cases easily, and will often do whatever it takes in torture sessions to get the truth out about prisoners. Scavenge joined after being recruited by Bon-Bon in her hometown, when Scavenge was in her teens. Bon-Bon came to find that Scavenge was quite the mystery solver and treasure hunter, ranging from finding a little girls dolly that they left in sugar cube corner by accident, to revealing Filthy Riches massive money laundering scheme (whether she revealed this and it being true was major luck or her being a mastermind at the age of 15 is still unknown to Ponyville). Despite all of her more disturbing sides, she’s genuinely just a chill gal who loves surfing on the beach, and teaching others how to bake. Scavenging is her special talent (pinkie sense gave pinkie a good name) and thinks of her job as one big scavenging game (the torturing included scarily enough) Scavenge often deals with more personal matters in S.M.I.L.E, despite solving if not damn near leading cases with otherworldly/giant monsters. Scavenger’s job ranges from assassination threats on royalty, to controlling the underground illegal drug rings, and her current and her most troubling case currently involves such. Design updates/notes: Moonshine: She was too goddamn orange for me, she's now got blue wings now, as well as markings (including her Moondancer's signature moon eye pattern) Green Tea: I have no idea why the hell I decided to lighten up her mane, it's now back to it's dark green color. Shell Scavenger (Formally Surprise Pie): Big ole character update. She's now a seapony/hippogriff, and she's got a lot more blue in her too. She's got Pinkie Pie's vitiligo, Skystar's freckles,  and has bright pink eyes now too. If you wanna see their true tone colors CHARACTERS: Moonshine, Green Tea, Shell Scavenger

RELATED MLP:FIM © HASBRO Moonshine, Green Tea, Shell Scavenger, Art © Punkpride

★Like my art? Consider supporting me on Patreon for as low as $1!★

★ SITES ★

[youcanhavemybuckanyday]

Answer all of them. 1-170. have fun.

HELL YES LETS GOOOOOOOO

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? 

5′2″. Exactly how tall I am now. I like being short.

2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not)

I’ve always wanted a ferret. They can weed out people for me. If a person says “Ew, it’s a rat” then they ain’t worth my time.

 3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? 

Whatever’s on sale. Preferably baggy and comfortable

4: What was your favorite video game growing up? 

Always has been and always will be the Nancy Drew computer games. I’m obsessed. There are 32 games (we don’t talk about number 33), and I’ve played each one dozens of times.

5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: 

My laptop, my dog, my tumblr account

6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? 

Warning: Prone to spontaneous breakdowns, both physically and mentally.

7: What is your opinion on [insert person/thing here]? 

Honest opinion on @Elizard-Hamilton, the person who sent this ask: They’re super sweet and kind, and probably the first reciprocal tumblr friendship I’ve ever had.

8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] 

Don’t know what that is, too drunk to figure it out right now.

9: Are you ticklish? 

God yes. But I retaliate. If you tickle me, you will die.

10: Are you allergic to anything? 

No, that’s the one medical thing that I don’t have.

11: What’s your sexuality? 

Hetero-Demi Sexual. So I like men, but I’m only sexually attracted to them if we’ve been close for a long time.

12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? 

Cocoa, always. Specifically, Tim Hortons Hot Chocolate. Medium, 2 creams.

13: Are you a cat or dog person? 

Dog. Always.

14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? 

I answered this one already, definitely merperson.

15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? 

Nope.

16: How tall are you? 

See above.

17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? 

I’d just add an L to my name. New name, pronounced the same.

18: How much do you weigh? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] 

Right now, 126 lbs. But I should be 110. I just got off a medication that made me gain 40 pounds practically overnight. I went from 100 pounds to 140 pounds. I’m slowing losing the weight.

19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? 

Not in the traditional sense, but I do believe there are things about the departed we don’t yet understand. Kind of like way back when they though lightning was a supernatural event, until they found a scientific explanation for it. I think there’s stuff we just haven’t discovered yet.

20: Do you like space or the ocean more? 

Ocean.

21: Are you religious? 

Nope, athiest.

22: Pet peeves? 

Idk, I can’t think of any right now.

23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal [opposite of nocturnal]? 

Wtf I don’t know? Who cares? I’d rather be whatever koalas are. They sleep 22 hours a day.

24: Favorite constellation? 

The only one I can think of right now is big dipper. That makes it my favourite and also my least favourite constellation.

25: Favorite star? 

See question 24, but North Star.

26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? 

I don’t know what that is? Do you mean like Barbie? I litterally watching Barbie Nutcracker right now, lol.

27: Any phobias or fears? 

Spiders.

28: Do you think global warming is real? 

Duh.

29: Do you believe in reincarnation? 

No.

30: Favorite movie? 

Does Hamilton count? If yes, that. If not, Knives Out. I’m a sucker for a good murder mystery.

31: Do you get scared easily? 

Yes.

32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? 

Oh god. Idk. You’re going to make me do math on vacation. Lets see. 3 Dogs, 2 Cats, ungodly numbers of fish, 2 rats, 5 hermit crabs, 3 hamsters, probably others I can’t remember.

33: Blog rate? [You’ll rate the blog of the one who’s asking.] 

@elizard-hamilton 10/10. 5 stars. Thumbs up. Gold Star.

34: What is a color that calms you? 

Royal Purple. I used to have a bedroom where everything was royal purple. The walls, the furniture, the bedding, the accessories. Everything. It was a great time in my life, so the colour makes me think of good times.

35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? 

I’d love to go to Belgium. My grandmother was born there, and we still have family over there that I’ve never met.

36: Where were you born? 

London Ontario

37: What is your eye color? 

Hazel

38: Introvert or extrovert? 

Introvert

39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? 

Not at all

40: Hugs or kisses? 

None of the above. I have Asperger's, I don’t like to be touched.

41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? 

I’d love to see my BFF from high school again. Haven’t talked to her since we graduated. Rachel, if you’re out there, I miss you.

42: Who is someone you love deeply? 

My parents.

43: Any piercings you want? 

None.

44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? 

Nope. I don’t have anything against them, they’re just not for me. If you have them, I won’t think any less of you. There’s nothing wrong with them.

45: Do you smoke or have you eiver done so? 

Nope. I’ve already got really shitty lungs (I have Cystic Fibrosis), I’d rather not make them worse than they already are.

46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! 

Oh gosh, he’s cute, funny, talented, a great singer, a great writer, he wrote a hit broadway musical... oh, he doesn’t count? Then no, no one right now.

47: What is a sound you really hate? 

Styrofoam rubbing against more styrofoam.

48: A sound you really love? 

The notification sound tumblr makes when I get something in my inbox

49: Can you do a backflip? 

HA no.

50: Can you do the splits? 

HA HA no.

51: Favorite actor and/or actress? 

Do I even need to answer this? I’m going to anyway. It’s..... drumroll........ Danny Devito! Lol, no, it’s Lin Manuel-Miranda

52: Favorite movie? 

This is the same as question 30.

53: How are you feeling right now? 

Drunk. Next question.

54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? 

Purple. I used to have purple hair. Then I got older and got a real job and I’m not allowed to die my hair anymore.

55: When did you feel happiest? 

At 16, with my purple hair and purple bedroom and my bff in like grade 11

56: Something that calms you down? 

Hamilton

57: Have any mental disorders? [Only ask this if you know the user doesn’t mind!] 

Asperger’s, Depression, situational anxiety.

58: What does your URL mean? 

Every time is Hamiltime. Because it’s always time for Hamilton.

59: What three words describe you the most? 

Bizarre, confrontational, idk. Is there a word that means unwilling to put up with anyone’s bullshit? Because if so, then that.

60: Do you believe in evolution? 

Yes. Evolution is a fact, it’s been proven. So this question should not say do you believe in evolution, it should say do you accept evolution.

61: What makes you unfollow a blog? 

If they start posting stuff i disagree with, or if they totally veer into a new fandom I’m not interested in. I’ve lost so many good blogs to kpop.

62: What makes you follow a blog? 

Idk, I like their stuff?

63: Favorite kind of person: 

Kind people.

64: Favorite animal(s): 

Pug.

65: Name three of your favorite blogs. 

I’m not going to start naming friends, cause I’ve got way more than three and I know I’m going to forget someone, so here’s 3 random blogs I enjoy: gmoringgnight, tinywhim, torsnavi

66: Favorite emoticon: 

I’m on my laptop, i don’t have emoticons right now, but probably the one where he’s crying laughing

67: Favorite meme: 

All of them. I love all the memes.

68: What is your MBTI personality type? 

I’m too drunk to remember right now, ask me tomorrow.

69: What is your star sign? 

Pisces

70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? 

He cannot. He’s an idiot. But he can give you a high five, if that counts for something.

71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? 

Leggings, T-Shirt, Hoodie. Whatever’s clean.

72: Post a selfie or two? 

No

73: Do you have platform shoes? 

No

74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? 

I can solve a rubik’s cube

75: Can you do a front flip? 

LOL NO

76: Do you like birds? 

To look at, not to own or touch

77: Do you like to swim? 

Very much. In the water, it’s the one place my back doesn’t hurt.

78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? 

Swimming. I don’t skate. I know, oh wow, a Canadian who can’t skate. Sue me.

79: Something you wish didn’t exist: 

Trump.

80: Some thing you wish did exist: 

Alex Clairmont-Diaz

81: Piercings you have? 

My ears are pierced.

82: Something you really enjoy doing: 

Reading

83: Favorite person to talk to: 

My mom

84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? 

Amazing, finally a place I can be as weird as I want and it’s totally anonymous.

85: How many followers do you have? 

I have no idea.

86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? 

HA no

87: Do your socks always match? 

Yes

88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? 

When I was 14, they did a surgery where they put metal rods in my spine to keep it from growing crooked. My spine doesn’t bend at all. So I’ve never tried to touch my toes, but I’m going to go with no, I can’t.

89: What are your birthstones? 

I think Aquamarine? I don’t remember.

90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? 

Koala. They sleep 22 hours a day.

91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? 

I can’t think of any flowers right now beyond rose and tulip, and neither represent me. Is there a flower that’s really ugly? If so, that.

92: A store you hate? 

Gap. I despise that store with every escence of my being.

93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? 

None. It tastes like manure.

94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? 

Ooh, fly. No more wheelchair.

95: Do you like to wear camo? 

I don’t think i particularly like or dislike it. I just don’t wear it.

96: Winter or summer? 

SUMMER ALL THE TIME

97: How long can you hold your breath for? 

Not long at all. See explanation above, r.e. Cystic Fibrosis

98: Least favorite person? 

Trump

99: Someone you look up to: 

My mom

100: A store you love? 

Hot Topic. Yes, I’m basic like that. 

101: Favorite type of shoes 

Flats, cause I don’t have to attempt to bend over to put them on.

102: Where do you live? 

Hamilton, Ontario, Canada. Yes, I’m serious.

103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? 

Nope.

104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? 

Wtf? Are people supposed to have a favourite mineral or gem?

105: Do you drink milk? 

No

106: Do you like bugs? 

No

107: Do you like spiders? 

NO

108: Something you get paranoid about? 

If I remembered to turn off my computer before I go to bed.

109: Can you draw: 

Nope

110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? 

On a daily basis, people ask me why I use my scooter or my wheelchair. Every day. Not so much during the pandemic, but yeah.

111: A question you hate being asked? 

“When are you going to get a boyfriend?” “When are you going to settle down?” 

112: Ever been bitten by a spider? 

NOPE

113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? 

Who doesn’t?

114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? 

Cloudy, cause then I can stay indoors guilt-free

115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: 

My dog. But he’s with my sister.

116: Favorite cloud type: 

???? Is this something I’m supposed to have an opinion on?????

117: What color do you wish the sky was? 

???? IDGAF ??????

118: Do you have freckles? 

No

119: Favorite thing about a person: 

Their laugh

120: Fruits or vegetables? 

Fruit

121: Something you want to do right now: 

Get another drink, but that’s probs not a great idea

122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? 

Ocean

123: Sweet or sour foods? 

Sweet

124: Bright or dim lights? 

Dim

125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? 

No

126: Something you hate about Tumblr: 

I can’t reblog ads. Some of those ads are really, REALLY funny.

127: Something you love about Tumblr: 

Completely anonymous. I could be anyone. For all you know, I’m actually Mike Pence. (I promise I’m not)

128: What do you think about the least? 

Idk? There’s probably lots of stuff I’ve never thought about at all

129: What would you want written on your tombstone? 

Nothing, but I want there to be a little machine on top that looks like a parking meter, and when you put money in it you get wifi for an hour.

130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? 

Trump, most of the politicians in the states. I want to go to New York, and I can’t because y’all can’t get your shit together and kick this virus.

131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? 

My face. Not going to elaborate.

132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures?

Yes, but only because I get yelled at if I don’t.

133: Computer or TV? 

Computer.

134: Do you like roller coasters? 

I used to. Then the back surgery and now I can’t anymore.

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? 

Motion sickness no, seasickness yes.

136: Are your ears lobed or attached? 

Lobed.

137: Do you believe in karma? 

I believe that what you do will eventually come back to bite you in the ass, but I don’t believe in some cosmic force that balances the scales.

138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? 

0. Not going to elaborate.

139: What nicknames do you have/have had? 

None. My name has always been Adele. The few people who tried to give me nicknames got shot down real quick.

140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? 

When I was little, yeah

141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? 

Yes ma’am. For over a decade.

142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? 

Both at different times.

143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts/help? 

Giving. I never know what to say when receiving.

144: What makes you angry 

A lot of things these days. Can’t think of anything specific. My sister, usually.

145: How many languages do you speak fluently? 

Two. I speak French and English.

146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? 

Boys.

147: Are you androgynous? 

Nope.

148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: 

My face. Not going to elaborate.

149: Favorite thing about your personality: 

My “take no shit” attitude.

150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. 

Lin Manuel Miranda, Renee Elise Goldsberry, anyone from West Wing

151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? 

Revolutionary America

152: Do you like BuzzFeed? 

I’ve been known to partake.

153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? [If you have one.] 

Nope. I’m forever alone.

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? 

No. I have Asperger’s. No touching.

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? 

No.

156: What embarrasses you? 

When I need to ask for help for really simple things because of my wheelchair or other disabilities. I hate it.

157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: 

The future, for reasons way too complex to write in a tumblr post.

158: Biggest lie you have ever told: 

I convinced half my second grade class I was related to Elton John once. That was fun. They believed it for like 3 months.

159: How many people are you following? 

Hundreds.

160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? 

I don’t even know how I would find that out.

161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? 

Right now, I have 12, but that’s because I’ve queued up the next 4 days HamiltonHungerGames. Usually, I have none. I don’t understand how people have drafts. When I feel like writing something on tumblr, I start a post, I end the post, I post it. I never use drafts

162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? 

??? Again, I have no idea how to find that information.

163: Last time you cried and why: 

I honestly don’t remember.

164: Do you have long or short hair? 

Usually long, but right now short. My mom decided to give me a covid haircut, and she does not understand the meaning of “Just a trim”.

165: Longest your hair has ever been: 

Down to my butt. 

166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon? 

Dislike. I’m not going to talk about it here, but if you’re really curious you can dm me.

167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? 

Yes, because if we know where the universe and world came from, we can figure out where it’s headed. See the book Origins by Dan Brown.

168: Do you like to wear makeup? 

Not at all.

169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? 

I can barely stand on my feet for more than 30 seconds.

170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? 

Tried to.

Ok, this took me an hour and 45 minutes. I’m tired, I’m drunk, I’m going to regret this in the morning, I’m going to bed. Night y’all.