#so use your goddamn eyeballs and fucking read what you’re clicking into and if it’s NOT for you then LEAVE

[buckyismybicycle]

bucky with LEE??? ew :/

Hey 👋

Suck my ass ☺️

Thanks,

HR

[jiminrings]

bestie what if jungkook finally finds out that jin’s friends with y/n 😭😭😭 he’d live in embarrassment for like eight business days

cold senior!y/n x stem major!koo masterlist :D

jungkook wants to crawl in a ditch for bADLY misjudging a situation he should’ve foreseen in the first place

yoongi has never been this dedicated to curing his hangover

well actually, nO ONE was really forcing him to pick you and taehyung up anyway

you didn't even ask!!! you could 10/10 just call for an uber to bring back taehyung to his place

maybe, just maybe, it's your fault that when yoongi asked you where you were when he's just woken up from a long night of partying, you mentioned "i'm with taehyung" and hospital and go home in the same sentence so that's why he went to overdrive

did he process what you said correctly?? probably not <3

that's the whole reason why yoongi had wasted sIX eggs this morning!!

he read somewhere in passing and watched song-hwa from hospital playlist enough to know that drinking eggs apparently helps you with your hangover and some other things

first, he wasted tHREE eggs because apparently, you're not supposed to drink the eggs !!! whisked !!! because it "defeats" the whole purpose

but it's still an egg whether you whisk it and no one's sane enough to drink raw eggs unprovoked

yoongi nailed it on the second try and he might have gagged a few times but the important thing is, his hangover is all-cured from the stress of digesting raw eggs :D so now he can safely drive at a borderline dangerous speed to pick you and tae up

"hey kiddo."

you peer your head up to see yoongi looking down at you, ruffling your hair in greeting

you've been held up here for less than five hours anyway, and it's not that yOU look tired,,, it's just that maybe you could use a little more sleep

lol you got yoongi thinking for a second that you're the injured on

"hey champ," yoongi acknowledges taehyung who's smiling from his bed, getting a forehead flick from his senior to which he rolls his eyes to

taehyung's... dressed up already in his normal clothes?

he already has his shoe on too so yoongi doesn't quite get why the two of you still aren't standing up

"you're lucky you just got a flick," you add helpfully, yawning in remembrance, "he punched my arm when i fell down the stairs at the dorm."

and wHY is this conversation all pointing to him now??

"because the both of you did stupid things that landed you in the ER!"

"i was just trying to see if i can go down the stairs three steps at a time!!"

"i just wanted to embrace y/n!!!"

very stoopid decisions if you ask him

yoongi shifts his weight from one foot to another, still a little lost because he's already here, and the two of you are all-ready to go, and he's not really a fan of the smell of the hospital —

oh wait

"has the bill already been settled?" he asks in curiosity, fishing out his wallet from his pocket

"mhmm. already did," tae answers instantly, nudging yoongi to put his wallet back where it came from

uhm wait maybe it's the eggs that are talking but uh

..... if the bill's already paid-

"then why are we all just sitting here?"

taehyung opens his mouth but he cLOSES it shut the moment it all clicks in his head, belatedly looking at you whose face screams conflict

yoongi's eyes turn to you on instinct, narrowing his eyes because you're choosing not to meet his eyes

"we're uh, we're waiting for jungkook to come back from the restroom."

...

.....

.......

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

yoongi's quiet, almost like he's calculating the variables in his mind

his mind's working harder rn that it did on his finals last week

"so jungkook is here?"

he gets war flashbacks every time he hears his name

he just shudders at the thought of him and he doesn't mean it positively lmao

"y-yeah! did i not tell you that at the call? he helped me get taehyung here," you scratch your nape in explanation, not accounting for the fact that yoongi still vERY much loathes jungkook when you called him

tae's not actually sure if he's helping you when he opens his mouth but he's trying his best <3

"yup! his shoulders were my crutch for like, three blocks. he also bought us food from the cafeteria while we were waiting to have my leg cast!!"

he glances at the fancy paper bags from the cafeteria downstairs, even some take-outs in there that makes it look all-stuffed

how in the living hELL is yoongi suppposed to feel about all of this :|

"i'm back! should i call an uber now? sorry, i bought these tiny hand sanitizers because they were having a sale at the pharmacy. y/n what scent do you-..."

jungkook happily chirps as he rummages through the bag he was given, preparing to scoop all the different scents to present them to you when he jUST had to look down at a familiar pair of shoes

as in the same black converse that he had the relief of looking at when someone was particularly asking him if he ever had a knuckle sandwich

"h-hi yoongi."

yoongi narrows his eyes at the kid who just squeaked, mouth puffed-up in disbelief that he looks like he's hiding a hamster in there

"bye jungkook."

yoongi uses tae as an excuse to shoo jungkook off as fast as possible but that kinda bites him in the ass

taehyung's going through a learning curve with his crutches and yoongi's making him wALK faster!!!! he still needs a little-

oh wait a minute :-)

"jungkook! help me walk to yoongi's car."

no

there is nO way that even taehyung's conspiring against him now

first jin and now taehyung????

tae solidifies his point by winking at yoongi, leaving you alone with him as you carry the paper bags of cafeteria take-outs

he's not exactly sure if he's helping you out at this situation, but once again, he's just trying his best and having fun alright!!! he likes to be included in these types of things hee-hee

yoongi has no choice now but to aLSO drive jungkook home, and the thought just makes him grumble from thinking about it

he'll have to disinfect his seats ://

"i haven't fully forgiven him if that's what you're thinking about," you chime in with his thoughts, looping your arm around his to help quell the visible stress in his mind

"it's your life," he puffs out because he doesn't want to meddle with you, consciously trying not to be overbearing when it comes to your choices

"i know. i just want you to know that your closest friend has the pride and the brains to not forgive an asshole, a goddamn junior, who said really mean things to her," you add thoughtfully and transparently, making yoongi break into a smile

ok that's got the heaviness in his chest a little lighter

"we should probably talk to each other one of these days."

you haven't had a heart-to-heart talk with yoongi for quite some time now because there weren't really any pressing issues of the sort to make the two of you talk face-to-face, but now it's probably needed

"we should."

:D

jungkook has never feared for his life in a car ride tHIS much before

and he's even wearing his seatbelt!!!!

you're sitting at the front seat and he's with taehyung at the back, the latter dozing off because yoongi indulged his request for sleep music with soft rain on the background (it doesn't make yoongi sleepy) in an attempt to make him feel better about his leg

the one-hour loop's working wonders because you're passed out on the front seat too

normally, this would also make jungkook sleepy

but how the fuck can he sLEEP when yoongi looks at him through the rear-view mirror like an apex predator??????

kook could take the easier route of pretending to sleep so he could get to avoid yoongi's gaze

but then if he pretends to sleep, yoongi would clearly see how his eyeballs are still very much trembling even when his eyes are shut and he's the furthest thing from being relaxed

don't get him started on stoplights too!!! that was just pure torture because jungkook was conflicted to whether or not he should look at him rIGHT back

taehyung and jungkook live in the same building anyway so that's more convenient because he actually wouldn't know how to act if he had to drop j-name (he honestly can't digest saying his name) separately

now that that's all over, jungkook feels oddly fulfilled in a way...?

fulfilled in a sense that even if partially, he managed to earn your forgiveness

he feels like he could sleep a little more peacefully knowing that he atleast did something right this time!!!

which is for the exact reason, he's gonna gUSH about this to mr. kim from student affairs!!!

it's uh the weekend and he walked to campus because he thinks that admin works even on weekends (mad respect)

it's noticeably a lot more empty compared to weekdays and it's just filled with freshmen with their hectic class schedules and some students who are just fulfilling units to graduate early

jungkook walks straight to student affairs and it instantly looks empty, the only familiar face in there being namjoon

as in mr. kim namjoon who's wearing a windbreaker rn and whose hair is dEFINITELY blonde than the last time (two days ago) that jungkook saw him

he's not here to work isn't he

wait is he here to rob the place ???!?#?!?

"and what are you doing here?"

namjoon is as confused as jungkook, his mouth opening and closing in dumbfoundedness

"o-oh! is mr. kim here? w-wait, you are here. i mean mr. kim seokjin, sorry. did he-"

"nope," namjoon shakes his head, putting his bucket hat back on to leave jungkook all by himself

namjoon from work and namjoon every other time besides work are TWO different entities

"we just came here to collect our paychecks. you missed jin by ten minutes."

oh well

his momentum's not entirely ruined!! jungkook just has to cram thinking of a recipe to put in your lunchbox by tomorrow and jin is his tried and tested saving grace

technically, jungkook already saw you this morning because of the whole taehyung in a cast thing, but he feels as if that the take-outs from the cafeteria aren't gonna cut it

he still needs to step up his game of course :D

so that's why jungkook forcibly enlisted jimin's help to make fish and chips for dinner and put them in two lunchboxes

one for you and one for yoongi!! he didn't skimp on the fish nor the chips and made sure they're still toasty and in peak-flavor when he delivers it to your dorm

is he intruding? is this a bad time? he didn't exactly know how to process when yoongi told him that he wouldn't stop him from making it up to you

he just iSN'T sure if delivering homemade lunchboxes at 7 in the evening to your dorm is optimal

oh good!! the door's opening :D

"good evening!! i uhm-"

... what

.......... WHAT

what the fuck is going on

seokjin is suprised to see that the guy at the door isn't from the delivery place he ordered from two minutes ago

... he may be disappointed

but what he is amused about is the way jungkook looks beyond confused and intimidated

jin's in a sleep shirt and some boxers and jungkook doesn't kNOW what to feel about all the variables present that he's trying to connect

"you look like you're hiding a goldfish in your mouth."

seokjin remarks and yawns when a fraction of a minute passes and jungkook's still frozen in his spot, his eyes darting to what the kid's holding

"oh c'mon! one for y/n and one for yoongi? you trying to make it up to him too? and none for me?" jin jives him further, leaning against the doorframe with a sleepy smirk on his lips, "i practically live here, and i gave you the tonkatsu recipe, and i'm the one who doesn't get a lunchbox?"

he eventually saw this coming lmao

jin knew that someway somehow, jungkook would come to know that hE's your close friend throughout the whole time

that he's been the sort of middleman all this time but nah he's on your team of course <3

that all this whining he's done to him has all been in the name of you and seokjin had to sit through ALLLL of that with his fists clenched underneath the table to calm himself down

"oh my god," jungkook's literally WEAK in the knees as it all connects in his mind, the gravity of this scenario kicking down on him

he really iS such a fucking asshole

how did he not hypothesize this????? how wasn't he able to connect you and yoongi and jin as each other's closest friends???

his legs are literally about to give out so that's why seokjin snatches the lunchboxes from his hands

"i am so, so, so sorry mr. kim. i-i really didn't-..."

jin pays him no mind, opening the lunchboxes slightly as he whistles at the sight of fish and chips

meanwhile jungkook is so sO close to crying both in realization and very very slight relief because he knows atleast one of your friends doesn't hate him that much

the door opens wider, the creaking getting both of his and jin's attention

"what's taking you so long? is the-..."

yoongi switches his gaze between the two lunchboxes on jin's hand and jungkook sitting on the floor looking like he's had the shock of his lifetime

wow this is really amusing

this is in fact so amusing that yoongi can't help but to snap a picture for him and jin to laugh at later

"bye, jeon."

yoongi grabs one of the lunchboxes from jin's hand and goes back into the dorm, leaving jungkook alone with mr. student affairs

seokjin chuckles as he outstretches his hand to make jungkook stand up and shoo him off sooner than later so he wouldn't look like a pebble in front of your dorm

he pats him on the back, only having to pull him slightly to get him closer to his ear

"we're still mad at you kid, don't get it twisted. you're lucky i didn't expel you."

jungkook pales at the realization overall, only weakly nodding his head as he attempts to take in everything while trying to look at the bright side

seokjin cheerily closes the door, waving at him who looks so close to passing out from hock

"bye jungkook!!!"

[hotdamnhunnam]

Your fics are bomb I just started reading them! Two headcanons I need your opinion on: Charlie’s fav position? Is he an ass or tits dude?

Hi, thanks so much! I hope you continue to enjoy my stuff 🤗💖

Hmmm so in my humble opinion...

Sir Hunnam’s favorite position: Missionary, without a doubt.

Hear me out.

Not because he’s vanilla or anything—no, we all know that he’s a super kinky savage sex god king—Charlie loves missionary because he makes it fucking legendary.

As much as he loves slamming you against the wall when he comes home, so eager to cum he can’t even make it to the bedroom... or letting you take his huge dick for a ride, sitting down on his cock till it slides deep inside, which feels so damn divine... or fucking you deep from behind, pulling your hair as he hammers your cunt at a mind-blowing pace, while admiring the curve of your waist, the steep arch of your spine...

His favorite position is just to be right there above you, to prove to you over and over again just how much he loves you. Charlie is big on kissing, with passion—devours you whole, while he’s pounding your soaking wet hole into total submission, then stops to stare into the core of your soul, to get off on your every reaction, until you’ve completely lost count of the earth-shaking orgasms rocking your world beyond anything you could’ve ever imagined.

I present this gifset to prove what I just said 🔥

No seriously, click it. Click the gifset. Just don’t sue me when your eyeballs promptly fall out of your head.

________________________

As to your second question...

Mr. Hunnam loves literally every inch of his woman, but I would say tits over ass if he had to pick one. Charlie uses his hands and his lips and his tongue like a fucking magician. It doesn’t matter to him if your tits are big or small, or whether they’re lopsided or symmetrical, fake or natural, or anything like that at all. If you’re his girl, then you’ve got the most beautiful rack in the world. Your body is his sacred temple to worship but also his toy and the man loves to play. He could go on tenderly caressing and kissing and sucking them all goddamn day.

This doesn’t mean that he ignores your ass, needless to say—Charlie adores your ass and spoils it in other ways. He spanks it so often in bed while he’s fucking you dead that it’s probably permanently red. Yes, I said what I said.

I present to you this gifset as Exhibit B (for ‘Breasts’ obviously, just look at him loving those titties!! 😩)

Again, just click it. Click the gifset. Again, please, don’t sue me when your eyeballs fall out of your head.

________________________

Okayyy so I hope that answered your questions to your satisfaction! ✨

Thank you for requesting these headcanons, those scenarios were very fun to imagine 😅

[bepoets]

Review for Trish’s Dream Fic

Trish ( @couragedontdesertme  ) said she’d write an epilogue of the elsarik dream Fic if I made a Formal Review of the elsarik dream fic. So here we are.

Please note review should be taken VERY LIGHTLY this is more or less me re-reading the Fic and loudly yelling about things with too many exclamation points. Enjoy Trish.

Ch1

First of all imagine my fucking surprise I didn’t even know you had gotten work done on the dream fic???? Here I was thinking the link you sent me was the next chapter of city of ice and then I click on it and it saYS DREAM FIC???? E X C U S E M E oh my goodness

The first section is just so entirely domestic and beautiful and you can tell how lived in and content they are in their life as roommates. ALARIK (listen my phone autocorrects ALARIK to be in all caps and I’m too lazy to fix it so y’all are gonna have to deal with reading ALARIK’s name as if I’m yelling it every time I type it) anyway ALARIK just bringing her the chocolate croissants she loves so dearly and Elsa curling up with a book and him fretting and worrying over her being there alone all day and later... it’s just SO DOMESTIC. it’s such a small short moment but it’s so domestic and a perfect opposite of the PAIN THAT HAPPENS AFTER!!! And we al know I LOVE READING PAIN

The fact that ALARIK was only home late because he was doing tutoring to earn more money to by Elsa A PRESENT????? Shut up no one speak to me that’s true love but also PAINFUL the guilt he must feel oh my god

Elsa...stops struggling... because she doesn’t want ,,,, ALARIK ,,,, to get hurt. Because she cares for his safety more than her own because he has protected her and he is her friend and she loves him I am going to SCREAM

The fact that you use the phrase ~marching her out of the warmth of the room~ when she just used her magic to like cover the walls in frost makes my Heart burst cause idk if it was intentional or not but I just love the thought that this room has become Home to her it’s become safe and beautiful and lovely and WARM because it is full of love and friendship and companionship rather than the cold loneliness of say her ice palace of her locked room as a child. I like to think Elsa could have covered the room entirely in ice and snow and frost and it would still feel warm to her because of the love that’s developed there thank you for coming to my tedtalk

Ugh fuck hans

I have literally no words other than fuck hans for any section with hans in it I DONT even want to RECOGNIZE THAT HE EXISTS !!! Making Elsa feel like she’s nothing I am going to punch him in the eye

~ALARIK weeps over smushed chocolate croissant. End scene~

I know that it’s such a heartbreaking sad ending for that first chapter but also I really can’t stop laughing about him crying over a stepped on croissant since I know that your like planning note for that last scene was literally just some variant of ALARIK cried over a smushed croissant and that’s just such a funny IMAGE TO ME EVEN THOUGH ITS SAD

I just like to imagine ALARIK cradling the chocolate croissant in his arms like a bébé as he sobs

Ch2

I’m fucking S A D

ALARIK having like NO MONEY and just thinking about that the money he has was going to go to a gift for Elsa and the guard LAUGHING AT HIM LIKE THATS IT THATS ALL YOU HAVE?? Like shut UP HES TRYING TO SAVE HIS BELOVED

P e t t y c h a n g e HE IS TRYING MR GUARD I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW HE WORKED EXTRA TO GET THAT MONEY

ALARIK is so fucking DEVOTED I’m going to run through a goddamn wall I cannot cope. Willing to sell the clothes off his back have you ever seen an idiot more iN LOVE

ALARIK just going willingly cause he has no fight left in him and he just wants to see Elsa even if it means he gets imprisoned too oh my GOD

THE SCENE ITS THE SCENE!!!!!!!!!

STRAIGHT FROM TRISH’S SUBCONSCIOUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WHAT STARTED IT ALL!!!!!!!!!!

ALARIK wanting to hold her hands when her hands are what are chained up and seen as dangerous and what ~make her a witch~ the absolute love and power that holds.

LET ALARIK AND ELSA HOLD HANDS

“I promised to keep you safe” the pain I feel oh mY GOD

“They’ll KILL you” they’re really out here trying to protect each other at all costs oh my god nothing matters more to the other than keeping the other safe and for that I want to cry and love them and also I want to ram their heads into the wall because wHY WONT THEY JUST PROTECT ESCH OTHER TOGETHER

The PARALLEL OH MY FUCKING GOD

the P A R A L L E L of ALARIK stilling and no longer struggling when the guards threaten Elsa’s death in the same way that Elsa stilled and stopped struggling when they threatened ALARIK’s death oh my god that broke me right there

U g h hans fuck that guy

A N N A !!!!!!!!

When I first read this,,, I DONT know why??? But for some reason??? I didn’t think Anna would be in it???? Which like thinking back on that it makes no sense of COURSE Anna would be in the FIC why would I ever think otherwise. But anyway I was so surprised when she showed up I literally gasped and went ANNA??? Out loud because I was so shocked

ALFAFA GERANIUM

ALARIK really is just so bad under pressure who thought this was a good idea

AG FOR SHORT wink wink nudge nudge cough cough

I’ll be thinking about ALARIK shouting alfafa geranium on my death bed let us never forget

“No harm, no foul” is literally the most fucking Anna line I’ve ever heard. She absolutely would say that to someone who was being question for a crime she’d be like “it’s not biggy”

Why is it that when hans says “BUT ANNA!!!” I hear it like he’s wining like a petulant child I read it like “bUT annNNAAAAA” ugh I hate him

“Don’t scream” *ALARIK’s inner monologue* “this ,, is the story of how I died”

ILL HELP YOU HELP HER ESCAPE!!!!! HELL YEA YOU WILL ANNA HELL YEA YOU WILL

Ch3

My dumbass really went “why are none of the children named neta” before remembering that is the child of Anna and Kristoff and these...are the children of Anna ,,, and .... ugh please don’t make me say his name

I would die for these kids though I love them and I want to protect them at all costs 

Johannes at 5 (and a half!!!!) being a fine soldier GOOD FOR HIM

Isak owns my entire heart from the moment he started fake crying for his mother what a star performer a true Actor he’s too good

Arendellian Royal Guards, are they guards? Or are they simply baby sitters? The world may never know

JOAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! One of the babies being named JOAN!!! Hang in there Joan!!!!!!!!! That made me cry oh my god J O A N

Bébé Isak lookout supreme with his big eyeballs and smile and goofy lil salute I love him

The fact that Elsa says she felt stupid for being lured into a false sense of security means she felt secure and safe for literally the first time since she was a child when she was with ALARIK and I cannot properly articulate how much that made me cry I love that so much that has to mean sO MUCH TO HER oh my god

“You have to get out!! Do the magic!!” NO ONE SPEAK TO ME ABOUT ANYTHING EXCEPT THIS LINE FOR THE NEXT SEVERAL MONTHS I LITERALLY WEPT

the use of DO THE MAGIC oh my god AND ELSAS HEART LIKE BREAKING BECAUSE SHE FEELS LIKE SHE CANT

DO ! THE ! MAGIC !

Brave little boy with his mother’s determination saying “be brave. That’s what mama said to tell you” oh my GOD THESE CHILDREN HAVE MY WHOLE HEART OH MY GOD

A rooster crow for the signal COUKD they be more obvious I love these kids they’re ridiculous they are truly the children of Anna

Elsa!!! Chose!! To be!!! Brave!!!

IF SHE TRIED TO SAY GOODBYE TO ELSA!!! SHE MAY NEVER LET GO!!!

SHE HAD NO WHERE TO GO!!! BUT SHE DOES BEVAUSE THERES ALARIK WAITING FOR HER BECAUSE GUESS WHAT

ALARIK IS HER HOME !!!!! HE IS HER HOME !!!! SHE CAN GO TO HIM!!!!

Queue another one of my shocked and delightfully surprised screams as I shouted KRISTOFF????? Because blonde dude driving a reindeer cart

Let’s get you somewhere safe I’m going to cry THEYRE finally together again and they can keep each other safe together as. They. Should.

They are cuddling and my heart is exploding oh my god ALARIK seems so surprised like you big dumb idiot you’re both in love with each other it’s a mutual thing get with the program

SLEEP ELSA! ITS GOING TO BE OKAY! AND FOR THE FIRST TIME IN PROBABLY FOREVER! IT WILL BE!

Ch4

*queue another gasp* there’s only one bed?????

Yea I saw it coming yea I was just as shocked even so yea I got very excited about it wHAT DID YOU EXPECT

They’re cUDDLING and he went to move away and she DOESNT WANT HIM TO they could’ve been sharing a bed THIS WHOLE TIME AND I JUST WANT TO SCREAM BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY

ALARIK laying all the credit on kristoff and the kids when he’s kind of the one that steamrolled the whole plan into happening because he’s the one who showed up ALARIK please give yourself more credit

“You came back” “of course I came back... I couldnt ...” “why?” And then ALARIK refusing to meet her eyes has me absolutely weeping this is the kind of shit I THRIVE ON this is truly a gift to us all everyone say thank you Trish for these three bits of dialogue I will be thinking about them for all my days

ELSA KISSED HIM!!!!!!!!!

Yeah I do lose my shit anytime Elsa is the one to make the first move you go girl you go

THE SPICE VENDOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Bringing in all my favorites I am going to cry thank you Trish I love Darius

I SUPPOSE YOU TWO HAVE FINALLY GOTTEN MARRIED

listen I SCREAMED WHEN HE SAID THAT I SQUAWKED!!!! MARRIED!!!!!!

I had been observing you two and just assumed!!!!! You would assume right mr spice vendor sir if they WERENT so stupid for so long it’s okay we understand

WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE ??? And Elsa says MARRY US? And ALARIK is going to PASS THE FUCK OUT

He literally got to finally kiss the woman he’s in love with for the first time last night and now they’re getting married poor boy is going to get WHIPLASH from how fast things are progressing but it’s okay im sure he is happy

Elsa’s little vows of just needing each other and keeping each other safe and keeping company and not needing gold or silver ugh TRUE LOVE

And ALARIK hopelessly devoted to her being like I PROMISE

“just you being there no matter what is enough” peak romance true love the devotion the dedication I’m a wreck

LE SMOOCH! LE MARRIAGE! INCREDIBLE I LOVE THEM

~end review~

Okay where is my epilogue please and thank you

[blueeyedslifer]

PROMPT: CLOTHING SWAP

NOTE: This one got steaming so there’s a read more. lol enjoy.

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Spilling his soup had been Sasuke’s first problem. His second one was that he had left Naruto to do the laundry but given the moron’s forgetfulness and busy schedule, it had not yet been done. Grudgingly, Sasuke got everything together and just did the laundry himself. However, that left him with nothing of his own to wear, given that he wasn’t one for keeping loads of clothes anyway.

He had just settled down on the couch in his briefs when the phone rang. The man groaned but knew he needed to answer it. Only a handful of people had the number and if any of them were calling, it was because they needed him urgently.

“Sasuke, I need to here. Fast.”

It was Naruto. “Here meaning the council rooms?”

“Yeah. Please. I need your help.”

“On my way,” Sasuke said. He’d get the details when he got there. 

Just as he was about to reach for the door, Sasuke remembered his laundry situation. With some muttered curses, Sasuke did a lap of the apartment to see what he could do. In the bedroom, he found one of Naruto’s old tracksuits buried in a box in the back of the closet. The orange and black were so hideously garish, but he had little choice in the matter and put it on so he could leave. The material was soft and cozy, smelling strongly of Naruto despite having been stuffed in a box for several years. The more shocking thing was that it fit Sasuke rather well, even if the sleeves were about an inch too short. Dressed well enough for an emergency call, Sasuke crossed town to see what it was the Hokage needed...

“Sorry for the delay,” Sasuke said, walking into the council room and toying with the sleeves to see if he could pull them down farther. 

“Wow,” Shikamaru said from one side of the table, “looking good there, Uchiha.”

Sasuke looked up and saw that most of the council was snickering as they looked over the tracksuit that was so very clearly Naruto’s. The relationship the Hokage shared with his right-hand, was one of the worst-kept secrets within Konohagakure, but this was probably the most blatant display of what happened behind closed doors. Sasuke felt his cheeks warm at the attention, but did his best to ignore it. He should have known better than to assume it would be just him and Naruto...

“What seems to be the problem?” Sasuke said, sitting down in his usual spot and wanted to just get to business. Lucky for him, his fellow council members took the hint and got down to it. 

The meeting went along, even if it did take longer than it should have. Tactical plans were needed for a small-ish rogue uprising in the northernmost part of the Land of Fire. But a small rogue uprising was still a problem that needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible to avoid it spinning out of control. The entire meeting, Sasuke did his best to avoid making direct eye contact with Naruto. He could feel Naruto’s gaze on him, the other man radiating with his need to say something about Sasuke wearing his clothes. That had to be it, otherwise, he wouldn’t keep looking at Sasuke the way he did the entire meeting.

Hours later, the meeting let out, everyone eyeballing Sasuke as they left and making snide remarks quietly to each other. Sasuke found himself growing annoyed at how much gossip was exchanged within the village hall, but his thoughts on the matter were interrupted by Naruto.

“What are you wearing?” he asked once they were alone.

“Someone forgot to do laundry and I had nothing to wear when you called.” Sasuke looked at Naruto now and saw that his partner was blushing. Sasuke held down his smirk and walked close to Naruto, slipping his arms around his waist when he was close enough, and pulling him in to press against his chest.

“S-sorry,” Naruto said.

“Is there a problem?” Sasuke asked, his voice just as teasing as Shikamaru’s had been. “Should I take it off?”

“The door doesn’t lock,” Naruto squeaked and Sasuke smirked at him. 

“Your office does.”

Naruto’s face went scarlet and Sasuke stepped away, promptly leaving the council room to go down the all to Naruto’s private office. The Hokage was hot on his heels as he followed behind. The pair entered Naruto’s office, Sasuke holding the door for him before slamming it shut and locking it. The click of the lock sounded and Sasuke instantly found himself pressed against the wood of the door.

Naruto’s kiss was hungry as he devoured Sasuke, his hands tangling in Sasuke’s hair and held him firmly against the door. Sasuke kissed back, tongue and teeth, his own hands fisting the front of Naruto’s jacket. Naruto shifted and he could feel the heat of him through his pants, solid and heavy against his leg.

“So needy,” Sasuke breathed as Naruto’s mouth went to his neck, just below his jawline.

Naruto didn’t respond with words, instead just biting down on the skin and smiling when Sasuke’s breath hitched with a small gasp.

Sasuke’s hands came up and he tossed Naruto’s Hokage hat to the side before tangling his own fingers in Naruto’s fluffy blonde hair. He let his head fall back against the door as Naruto moved further down his neck, one of his hands letting go of the raven hair and coming to rest as Sasuke’s hip. Sasuke rocked forward with every movement. Naruto pulled away from his throat to kiss him again and his hands moved down to the front of the pants Sasuke was wearing.

“On the desk,” Sasuke breathed.

Naruto smirked at him, “It’s starting to sound like you planned this.”

Sasuke yanked on his hair but Naruto only laughed, “No, you moron. But if you fuck me against the door of your office, it’ll be even less subtle that we’re sleeping together than me showing up wearing your goddamn clothes.”

“Whatever you say.” Naruto yanked Sasuke across the room by his pants, kissing him the whole way across. Sasuke unzipped the jacket, revealing his bare chest while Naruto pushed him onto the desk. “No shirt?” he asked.

“Again, someone didn’t do the laundry.”

“This isn’t making me sorry for forgetting.”

“I hate you,” Sasuke said as he shifted back on the desk, Naruto coming between his knees.

“You say that now,” Naruto replied, tugging at the fly of the pants.

“You’ll need to move faster than that if you expect me to say something different.”

As if on a cue, Naruto pulled the garishly orange pants down and replied with a grin, “So needy.”

Sasuke would have punched him if Naruto hadn’t wrapped his hand around his cock. Instead he let himself fall back to rest on his elbows, pushing papers off the other side of the desk as he did so. Naruto managed to pull the pants off and Sasuke's sandals with them, all while slowly jerking him off. The sight of the other man wearing nothing but his old jacket and sprawled out on his desk was more beautiful than anything else Naruto had seen. And he had seen Sasuke in a number of beautiful positions.

Naruto let go of Sasuke’s erection to pull down his pants and free his own erection. He stroked himself a few times while Sasuke watched, hungrily.

“You gonna get yourself ready?” Naruto teased, removing the rest of his clothes.

Sasuke brought a hand to his mouth, pouting seductively as he kissed the tips of his own fingers. “Do I really have to do everything today?”

“You’re not doing everything today. I was working until you showed up like this.”

Sasuke let out a groan, “Will you shut up already and get over here?”

Naruto didn’t snap back for once, but did as he was asked. He settled between Sasuke’s legs, pulling the man’s hand to his lips and wrapping his lips around Sasuke’s forefingers. It was pornographic, the way Naruto used his tongue to wet them and Sasuke felt his cheeks flush as he watched. He wanted to touch himself, but held off, knowing Naruto would only swat his hand away if he tried. Satisfied with his handy work, Naruto slowly pulled Sasuke’s fingers out of his mouth and watched as the man beneath him brought them down to his hole. It was Naruto’s turn to flush as he watched the fingers slowly disappear into Sasuke’s ass, pale skin turning flushed with every thrust of that equally pale hand.

Naruto licked his palm as he watched, stroking himself in time with Sasuke’s own ministrations. 

“You want it?” Sasuke asked with a quirked brow.

“Since you walked into that stupid council room.”

“Then get over here,” Sasuke repeated with a crooked smirk that was quickly wiped from his face as Naruto pressed inside of him. Sasuke’s back arched off the wood of the desk and his head pressed hard against it, lips parted as his breathing hitched.

Naruto breathed a laugh as he bent over his partner to kiss at his bared throat. “Not so bossy now, are we?” Sasuke relaxed around him and shot a glare up which only made Naruto grin back down at him.

The other man made to say something in response, but Naruto took the moment to snap his hips and Sasuke’s words died in his throat with a groan and his thighs pressed against Naruto’s hips. 

Naruto loved these moments when he had sex with Sasuke, the moments where he could silence the grumpy bastard to the point where the only sounds that escaped those pale lips were the small moans that urged Naruto on. He thrust into the other man, standing upright to hold onto sharp hips as sweat formed on both of their foreheads. 

“N-naruto,” Sasuke gasped as Naruto’s cock hit deeply. 

“What?” Naruto asked softly, pushing in to the hilt and staying there.

“C-co-” Sasuke couldn’t get the words out so he reached up and pulled Naruto down to him, kissing the blonde man deeply as his fingers tangled in his hair.

Naruto moaned into the kiss and let their tongues tangle before he moved his hips again. Sasuke held him close as he felt himself reaching his peak, not wanting to break their kiss until one of them came. Hard as he fought against the pleasure of Naruto’s cock inside of him, Sasuke was the first to do so, moaning as he coated Naruto’s stomach. Naruto slowed his pace as Sasuke relaxed into the desk, smiling at him while Sasuke slowly let his fingers slip from Naruto’s hair. 

“Don’t slow down,” Sasuke said quietly.

“I’ve got a better idea,” Naruto grinned, kissing him as he pulled out. 

It took Sasuke a moment to get what he meant, but once it clicked he carefully slid off of the desk and onto the floor. On his knees, he smiled up at Naruto for a moment before taking his erection into his mouth. He closed his eyes, savouring the taste of himself on Naruto as he took it all in. Naruto moaned low as his fingers tangled in Sasuke’s hair, his hips rocking carefully forward. Sasuke always was good with his tongue, and it didn’t take long before Naruto was practically yanking on his hair. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto moaned in warning, knowing he was reaching his limit. 

Sasuke pulled back in time for Naruto to cum over his face, pale skin glistening with it and sweat.

Naruto breathed a laugh through his panting and let himself sink to his knees before Sasuke, letting his hands come down to cup his face. He leaned in to kiss him, letting his tongue dart out to clean up the miss he had made around Sasuke’s lips. 

“I’ll need to forget to do laundry more often,” Naruto teased. 

“As if you ever remember to do it in the first place,” Sasuke shot back, wrapping his arms around Naruto’s shoulders.

“Fine, then I should forget to do your laundry more often.”

“Usuratonkachi.”

“Love you, too, teme. Get dressed so we can go home now.”

“I thought you were busy working.”

Naruto rolled his eyes, “I was until you came in like this. Didn’t we go over this already?”

“Get back to work, Lord Hokage.”

Naruto let out a whiny groan as Sasuke slipped out of his grasp and pulled on the pants he had been wearing. He also grabbed Naruto’s Hokage cloak and wiped his face with it, being sure he was presentable again before tossing it to Naruto with a wink and heading out the door.

“Aw, Sasuke! That’s so not fair!”

[devilsnwitches]

SSDD - Ch2 - Witchy Instincts

AO3��<Link - Written by Me & @lynxtigerwritings

Tags = AU Canon-Divergent / Canon-Typical Behavior

Pairings = Vergil-OFC / Dante-OFC / Nero-Kyrie / V-OFC

Note - READ LOVE’S SACRIFICE IT’S V PROLOGUE - Pairing V/OFC

“So I knew about Lysander one,” Dante said as he leaned back into a chair, a magazine on his lap. Vergil was out cold, and Charlotte decided to go downstairs and rest since she stayed up most of the night. For someone that promised a “watch”, she took more than her fair share. It was practically daybreak now, and Yvette had to do a combination of shove her sister down the stairs and tuck her securely into a couch to make sure she’d never move again. “I hate to say it, but I didn’t know there was a Lysander two that took on the family business.”

Startled from getting lost in her own head, Yvette blinked at him for a second before his words clicked and she nodded, “Yeah, sorry. Lotty and I don’t do every job together, a lot of the time splitting up. I also run my own little ‘at home’ business, so there’s that. I’m not always out there slayin’ monsters, but I’m always available if Lotty needs me.”

“Lotty huh? How did she get that nickname?” Dante never heard of Charlotte’s nickname, but now that he had it...he was pretty certain he was going to get shot for it. Regardless, he was still curious about it. “What at home business do you do?”

“Well, I’m younger by two years and when I was learning to talk I couldn’t say her name properly. I called her Lotty and she calls me Vetty when she’s being sentimental or upset about something. As for what I do? I go to people’s homes, businesses, or whatever and I sage cleansing and purification. Sometimes it sparks a demon attack, sometimes it doesn’t. I also offer meditation sessions and crystal massage.” She grinned, “I’m a nut for shiny rocks.”

“Lysander witches, makes sense.” Dante nodded. “Vetty’s adorable. Kind of reminds me of a puppy.”

“Lotty and Vetty could both be pupper names,” Yvette snickered, “Though honestly, that’s a first. Dunno how she’d feel about being called a puppy. She’s more like a moody cat.”

Dante could see it. “My brother’s the same way. They get along well. At least, as well as one can get when someone is literally burning the poison out of you.” His eyes wandered to Vergil’s sleeping form. They were pieces of work. Both of them. “He’s been gone for seven years. I wasn’t really expecting him to come back.”

“Geez, seven years?” she toyed with the silver spinner ring on her left thumb, also watching Vergil, “I can’t…” she shook her head, “I can’t even begin to imagine what seven years without Lotty would be like...I mean, if she’s gone longer than a week on a demon mission I get worried sick.”

“Well, in honesty my brother and I aren’t exactly heart to heart types of people. To be frank, I didn’t even know Vergil even had a woman, let alone a kid for a long time until I randomly dropped in during a bad time.” Dante sighed, kicking his legs to cross them the other direction. “Nero was the one that told me about the seven-year thing. We...tend to stay out of each other’s business. The only common connection we have is Nero. He’s the one that might take over Devil May Cry when I get ready to retire or some shit.”

“‘The family business, saving people hunting things’...oh my god my nerd showed I’m so sorry.” Yvette smacked her hand over her face.

“Supernatural?” Dante snickered. “You have to admit, they come up with some really interesting ideas. I wouldn’t mind fighting some of the demons they’re hunting, but I’m not too sure they can handle ours.”

“Two different worlds, that’s for goddamn sure. They’d shit themselves seeing our demons, I wholeheartedly agree.” Yvette blew her hair from her face, “What was it like? Finding out Nero was family?”

“Insane,” Dante admitted bluntly. “Vergil’s not the type that goes after women, let alone a longstanding relationship. But they seemed to have lasted...for a while. I wouldn’t blame her if she walked away. Our lives are difficult. Hard. Vergil, more so.”

“If Vergil’s not the type to pick a woman lightly, she wouldn’t have walked.” Seeing the way he relaxed under Charlotte’s touch gave plenty away, and Dante’s explanation helped solidify that idea. “What would make more sense to me is if she met the same fate as my parents because you’re right, this life’s hard. Dangerous as fuck. Dog-eat-dog world and all that.”

“Well can’t blame me for hoping that she was smart.” Dante sighed, “But you’re not wrong. Missing for seven years and coming back looking like that? He must have gone after her, or something happened in the Underworld and didn’t want to tell me about it. We have our differences about it. It’s caused us both a lot of pain.” He stretched. “Enough with the depressing talk. Nothing’s gonna get fixed if we mope about it.”

“Yeah, that was harsh. Sorry.” She eyeballed him, “Stiff?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, Yeti. You’re good. Stiff? Yeah, a bit.” Dante agreed. “It’s from sitting in uncomfortable places for too long, I’m sure.”

“I’ll give you a surprise if you never call me Yeti again.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure? I thought you were the less stuck up one.”

“Rude. Fine. Close your eyes.” When he arched a brow at her she did the same until he stubbornly obeyed. Standing up she went around and wiggled and stretched her fingers before she pounced. This was what she really enjoyed doing, giving massages. Taking into account his thick coat she adjusted pressure and slid along his muscles smoothly.

“Oh god, that hits the spot.” Dante groaned as she got right into a good knot. “Damn.”

“Take this off and it’ll get better.” Yvette’s grin went from ear to ear as she tapped his shoulder and lifted her hands long enough for him to shrug his coat, draping it back over the seat and she went right back at it. This time she even worked along his neck, back and forth creating gentle friction, then along the back neck tendons, behind his ears to his temples, back again, working his shoulders and repeating. Even though she’d been awake forever by now, doing something she loved made her giddy and woke her up.

As she worked on the knots around his neck and shoulders, he felt himself relax completely into her hold. It wasn’t often he let himself go like that, but this was a safe spot and he knew the Lysander reputation well enough to know that if they had his back on the battlefield, then they’d have his back here as well. He wasn’t even aware when he started purring deep in his chest.

Biting her lip to keep herself in check, Yvette took a breath through her nose and calmed down, instead focusing on the rhythm of it and eventually her own body rocked to the movement. She didn’t hum like her sister, so the only sound was the soft ‘scritch scritch’ when she went through his hair, his purring and soft groans when she did something particularly good. Eventually, her wrists and fingers started to cramp and she gave him a couple of pets to smooth his hair down after messing it up, “I think he’ll be fine if you wanna crash,” she whispered in his ear so not to startle him from his reverie.

It sounded like a good idea, but Dante decided against it, shaking his head minutely and then pulling himself out of the trance. “Nah, but thanks for the moment.” He told her sincerely. “It’s been a while.”

“More than welcome,” she looked at the window. Sunrise. “You cool if I do, then?”

“Go for it,” Dante assured. “I got this.”

X

It was much later in the afternoon. Nico wasn’t at all surprised to know that the apartment was still crowded as hell from the appearance of a couple of witches and Vergil coming back from wherever the hell he was. It was enough of a crowd that made her go back into the garage to fix the damn van that they used for mobile calls. She wandered out, cigarette already in her hand and ready for a lighter when she noticed a shadow coming across the garage.

Great, it was going to be Nero and Vergil all over again, wasn���t it? “Hey psycho!” Nico called to the shadow that paused. “Stop loitering! Either get yer ass in here or leave.”

Here’s the thing, Nico was expecting a demon. She was expecting someone to go under the door, weapon out and she would have to call for Nero to save her dumbass and Nero would never let her live it down for weeks. What she wasn’t expecting was a curvy goth pinup girl. She was a gorgeous piece of work and Nico could appreciate it when she saw it. “You lookin’ for something?”

“Not really a something.” The girl said, her voice soothing. Nico wondered who would out mom the other: this woman or Kyrie. “I’m looking for someone that runs Devil May Cry. Is that you?”

“Girl, you came to the right place with a bunch of us hoarding around a coffee table. Only you also picked terrible timing since one of us is down for the count and we’re all losing our heads over him.” Nico said, bringing the cigarette to her mouth to inhale and then exhale the smoke. “What did you do? Summon a demon you can’t get rid of? Pretending you’re a witch?”

The pained expression on the woman’s face told Nico that she hit some nails on the head, but not all of them. “Not me.” The girl said, and now that Nico was getting a closer look at her, damn. This girl knew how to put on makeup.

“Your eyeliner looks like it can cut a bitch.” Nico complimented. “Come upstairs. I’ll get the morons.”

“Thanks.” The girl smiled, and Nico snubbed out the cigarette before guiding her back up to the apartment.

“So, what’s your name?” Nico asked conversationally as she shoved the door open.

“Alexina.”

“How many nicknames you got outta that name?”

“I’m still counting to this day.” Alexina sighed.

Nico whistled. “Lucky I only get the one. Oi! Loser!” She called into the apartment. “I got a job for you hot shit!”

“Be more specific on the ‘loser’ part, Nico-nee,” Yvette chirped and Kyrie smacked her chest with the back of her hand. The two lighter brunettes were indeed sitting ‘round the coffee table.

“Customer?” Kyrie eyed Alexina and immediately she frowned, “What do you take? Coffee or tea?”

“Don’t know if customer’s the right word, but uh...I normally take a coffee.” Alexina said turning towards Kyrie. “Thank you.”

“OI!” Nico shouted again.

“I HEARD YOU THE FIFTH TIME!” Nero’s voice rang through the apartment and Alexina blinked as the boy in question walked down the stairs. His hair was short, and he looked...young. Younger than Alexina thought he was. Maybe they wouldn’t have a clue. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. He glanced at the girl that was standing beside Nico and gave her only a once over. “Sorry about my mechanic.” He said. “She’s usually better trained than this.”

Nico casually flipped him off. “I’m goin’ back downstairs in case the van’s needed. Y'all let me know where I need to head.” She said as she walked off without another word.

If there was one thing Nero couldn’t do, it was talking to strangers. Customer service was not his thing still. Kyrie could handle them so much better, and Dante was probably heading down here since Charlotte was taking over watching his dad.

“So,” Nero said slowly as he sat down on the coffee table, leaning a bit forward. “How may I help?”

“It’s more or less a question that I have,” Alexina said slowly. “Do you know anything about demon summoning.”

“I am not summoning a damn thing,” Nero said bluntly.

“I’m not asking you to, I’m asking if you knew anything about it.” Alexina held her hands up. “As in. Do you know to reverse a deal.”

Yvette was intrigued, but she didn’t want to steal Nero’s thunder so she simply listened. Kyrie was bustling about getting coffee in the coffee maker, but she peered over her shoulder, “We might be able to answer that better if you explain to us what happened.”

Nero watched the woman for a moment. The way she lifted her hand up to the tooth that was around her neck. How she fingered and played with it as she thought. “Someone close to you made a deal huh.” He didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to figure that out. “That sucks.”

Her lips twitched. “It was my fault.” The bluntness of the statement took Nero back a bit. “I was sick. He thought it was a good idea. The only idea. Summoned a demon and now he’s the one suffering. Apparently, his energy and demon energy aren’t...he’s not a witch. I at least don’t think he is. I don’t know his bloodline, he’s an orphan, see. Clearly, something’s going wrong with whatever the deal was.”

“How?”

“Best way to describe it is that he can force the energy to create familiars. I’ve only met two of them, but there’s three.” Alexina said softly. “Griffon’s alright. Mouthy and a bitch, but he’s alright. Shadow’s a huge cat, and I don’t have any problems but...I don’t know it’s a bad feeling in my gut that tells me something’s wrong.”

“If I may?” Yvette piped up, looking at Nero for permission. It was never a bad thing to follow Char’s rule about not sticking their noses in the business of Devil May Cry, but ‘witch’ and ‘demon deal’ in the same breath of conversation wasn’t a good sign.

“Go for it.” Nero gestured.

“Did your friend happen to mention to you that a summoning for a normal person isn’t supposed to work?” Yvette went right to the point.

Alexina sucked in a sharp breath. Nero had a feeling that the friend probably glossed over that fact, but Alexina was a sharp cookie. “I figured as much.” She said after a moment. “I study the occult for fun.”

“I bet your friend does, too,” she rubbed her forehead, “An orphan, yet you’re sure he’s not a witch. It’s rare as fuck, but not unheard of for a modern witch to start a new line. There was a lot more magic and raw force and energy back when my bloodline started. Could you tell me more about him so I can piece this together?”

“Admittedly, I’m the bookworm when it comes to the occult. He’s more of the...poet. Literally. I met him back in high school.” She sat down on the edge of the couch, smoothing out her skirt. “We have one of those friendships where you can ask us how we met and we’ll have several different stories. What I do remember was that he stood out and blended in. Quiet. Honest. But only if you ask. Only if you even try.” She rubbed her lips together, smearing the dark raspberry color around but nothing too rough. “Mom died after we graduated. We moved in together since we were the only family we had left. But then I got sick.” There was a long pause. “He thought I was going to die.”

Kyrie listened as Yvette only hummed at first as she went quiet, sinking into her chair, forefinger over her mouth and spinning the ring on her thumb. Putting together the coffee, taking Alexina in and making a good hard guess on how she liked it, she brought it over, “He had a purpose.”

“My life means more to him.” Alexina agreed as she took the coffee cup. “I called him out on it when I was in the hospital, but...he was adamant it was the only way and that he wasn’t going to...walk away. He was ready for me to. Griffon told me that later on when he wasn’t around to overhear. I know it’ll mean my death.” She looked at Nero firm. “But I’m a fighter. I’ve been around chronic illness all my life, I can do it again.”

Nero looked over at Yvette.

“If there’s a reverse I’d have to research it and ask my sister to help, but in all actuality, it may not be as much of a pressing matter as you think.” She tapped her chin, “He’s a poet so he’s eloquent. Had a strong definite purpose. Was no doubt willing to accept death if you lived. That’s the problem a lot of modern wannabes don’t have the solid willpower. A sliver of doubt at any given moment during their attempted rituals and it fails. Or they summon something and it doesn’t end well. He’s still around and here you are, healthy as all can be. Then there are his familiars. They sound kind. Protectors. What he did was profound. That’s more than a success. That’s a triumph.”

“As much as you’re singing praise,” Nero couldn’t help this part. “You’re talking about an untrained witch running around with three familiars that we don’t know what they can do. As well as, what price did he pay for it?”

Yvette smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand, “This is why Char is around. I’m hairbrained as fuck. Thanks and sorry. Yeah, a brand-spankin' new witch is sure to draw attention. Where the hell do you guys live?”

“Across town, on the outskirts of the city.” Alexina nodded her head towards a direction. “We like the quiet.”

“I bet you do,” Nero muttered. There were hardly ever any attacks on the outskirts. Not a lot of humans, not a lot of chaos. Now that there was a witch there, he could expect that to grow. “It sounds like me to it’s not much a reversal, but we can do something to help with his powers. That’s a start. While he harnesses those, it might slow down whatever price he made right?” He looked at Yvette. “Or do you think that’ll speed it up?”

“No, no, you’re on the right track. Smart kid,” Yvette beamed at him, “Training helps strengthen the spirit as well as the body. Being a poet will end up being useful if he wants to learn spells. Hell, his favorite poems could be spells if he damn well wanted them to be.”

“He’s stubborn enough I’m sure,” Alexina said dryly. “I’m not sure how to bring him here without him getting suspicious. Hell, he’s probably wondering where I’m at as we speak.”

“You didn’t tell him you were doing this?”

“He didn’t exactly ask me for my permission when he summoned a demon so I think this is more than fair.” Alexina shrugged.

“Yeah, definitely fair. You say you live crosstown? I kinda live in the middle of there and here, and if you’d like you could make up some bullshit story how you heard about my little cleansing business and I can drop by your place?”

Without another word, Alexina pulled out her phone from her purse and tossed it to Yvette. “Type in your number and I can text you the address. I’m on Seaside.” At her confused look, Alexina frowned. “You know, past the intersection of Dwight and Morningstar?” Another confused look. “You are terrible with directions aren’t you.”

“That’s why Charlotte’s my GPS.” Yvette deadpanned but she fiddled with Alexina’s phone and put in her contact information as well as her sister’s for good measure, “Pay me for gas and it’s all good. Curiosity's got me too good for me to care much about pricing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Alexina assured as she set the half-drunk coffee cup onto the table and she looked at Nero. “I hope whoever’s injured is feeling better soon.” She said gently as she stood up. “I should take my leave before I get a phone call and Griffon squawking.”

“Yeah,” Nero said watching her leave the apartment and he turned to Yvette. “I never heard of anyone summoning a demon and living to tell about it. Either this friend of hers is a witch, or he’s part-demon of some sort.”

“I’m voting neither, but he did make himself a witch with the summoning. Believe what you want, kiddo, but I’m gunna go with my witchy instincts on this one.”

“Go for it, at least it’s not my job. I’d fuck this all up.” Nero shrugged as he got off the coffee table. “I’m going to check in on father and Charlotte. I bet she’ll be curious too. About this mysterious friend of Alexina’s that can summon a demon and get familiars out of it.”

“Might as well tell Dante there’s coffee,” Kyrie smiled at him, “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it after not sleeping all night.”

“I’ll bring him a cup.” Nero agreed as he went to her side and pressed a kiss against her cheek before heading to the kitchen to grab that cup of coffee that Kyrie made and go back upstairs where people were.

It bothered him to no end really. He’d do the same for Kyrie, no question if their situation had been the same as those two. Yet, he couldn’t shake off this feeling that her friend was going to be a lot more dangerous than any demon he saw yet.

He should’ve taken the time to ask Alexina what she even knew about demons. Oh well.

X

So far, the constant pain and agony had mostly gone away. His back was the source of it, still soaking in the antidote, but his body ached. Charlotte had been kind and brought him a glass of water, so his throat wasn’t parched and feeling like a desert, either. Propped against the pillows, Vergil had his ankles crossed in front of him and his personal book in his lap Dante had retrieved from his coat. Not for the first time and certainly not the last time he was grateful for his demonic healing, though he wouldn’t be fully well for at least a few more days.

Charlotte had taken refuge in a seat, curled into a ball that looked uncomfortable but she made no noises of complaint and she barely spoke, though sometimes she’d leaned her head towards Vergil when she heard him mutter a line under his breath, but never asked to repeat it or to speak up. The door opened and she looked up. “Hey, Nero. Dante’s in the shower.”

“I figured.” Nero sighed as he handed her the coffee instead. “You get this then.” He watched her take it from his hands and curled up even more with it. “How are you doing, pops?” Nero turned his attention to Vergil.

“Being weak is not something I enjoy, but…” Vergil examined the same hand that had reached out to Nero yesterday in the garage, no longer grey and black-veined, though he was still too pale for anyone’s liking, “...I am doing well. Charlotte’s antidote is working on  healing my back now.”

“That’s good,” Nero said as he looked at his father. He looked a lot better than yesterday, but the image still burned into his mind. Of the flecking skin, and the black veins. He turned towards Charlotte. “So I got a question for you. Know anything about demon summonings?”

“I’ve done a few in my lifetime.” Charlotte pulled her shirt down to show a long scar down her neck and chest. “I learned my lesson. Why?”

“You’re going to go on a wild trip with this one. Apparently, there’s a girl who has a friend, not saying names here cuz she didn’t give me any, who not only successfully summoned a demon but made a deal with it, too.” Nero clicked his tongue. “Vet’s playing detective.��

“Of course she is.” Charlotte sipped the coffee.

“A common occurrence?” Vergil turned his head only slightly to look at her, “You don’t seem at all concerned.”

“It’s Vetty.” Charlotte turned towards Vergil this time. “The only time I need to get concerned is when she bites off more than she can chew. Otherwise, it’s if there’s a big demon she’s probably near it.” She turned to Nero. “I get the feeling that “successful demon summoning” line has a story behind it.”

“Yeah. Friend’s not a witch until now.” Nero concluded.

“That’s where everything goes to hell.” Charlotte sighed. “Whoever the friend is walked over my grave.”

“That is an interesting turn of phrase.” Vergil drawled, his attention seemingly returning to his book, “So will you be off, then? Duty’s done, after all.”

“Hmmm.” Charlotte shrugged. “I’ll let my sister suffer. Give her free reign. See what she comes up with.”

“A damaged car and a broken ego.”

“See if Vetty was here to hear that, you’d be window flying right now.” Charlotte gestured towards the window using her coffee cup, grinning at Nero. She looked over at Vergil. “I’ll stay here and be back up for once.”

Nero looked between the two of them, made a soft noise and then headed out towards the door. “Tension is tension. I know where I’m not needed.”

Vergil knew everyone wanted answers, and he was secretly surprised that Charlotte had decided to stay. “I know not all sibling relationships are like mine and Dante’s. You do not have to remain here, the danger has passed.”

She turned her attention towards him and she sipped on the coffee once more. “Is this you asking me to leave, or is this you wondering why I’m staying?”

“Stay because you want to, not because you feel you should.” Vergil answered instead, flipping the page of his book even as his eyes read not the words, “I only have a problem if it is unnecessary, but I cannot stop you from doing what you please, same as I cannot stop Dante from eating pizza morning noon and night.”

“Stick pineapples on it and olives.” Charlotte unfolded herself from the chair. “I’ll go ahead and take your advice then and come by later. I’m stealing Dante’s cup of coffee regardless.”

A whisper of a smirk graced his face, “That’s more like it.”

“I can be a mastermind of evil too.” Charlotte grinned as she walked towards the door. “You owe me a page of reading though.” She grinned wider as she shut the door behind her.

X

“Xina. What did you do?” While their lives didn’t necessarily have a rhyme or reason, Vitale liked to believe he knew this particular woman like the back of his hand. The first tickbox that alerted him something was out of the ordinary was her long absence. He knew when she visited her usual haunts. Since making the deal, feeling her energy stretch at different distances had fascinated him and gave him an odd sense of comfort. Today, however, she had gone far enough out of reach it nearly set him into a panic attack and Griffon’s constant stream of words had been his only distraction. The following tick box had been her attitude. Aloof might be the best word he had at the moment.

“V almost had a heart attack because you went too far.” Griffon echoed his thoughts exactly, appearing without being commanded to and landing on Xina’s shoulder. “Shakespeare didn’t know if you were going to go be gone for good this time or what!”

“Sorry.” Alexina reached and scratched Griffon’s back, letting him ruffle his feathers before turning towards her best friend. “I went to the city.” She promised. “You know. Looking for answers.” She looked over at her friend. He looked exhausted, tired circles were gentle around his eyes and he was holding himself up well, but she could tell that he wanted to topple over. She felt guilty that she had made him worry so much. She felt her heart sink into her stomach as she watched him watch her. A long time ago, Alexina wouldn’t have to question what was going through his mind. Now, she felt as though she was reaching and feeling the air.

“Answers...about me?” V pressed his hand to his chest, brow pinching. He was well aware all of this still bothered her, even three, nearly four months later and his attempts at comforting her didn’t always work. “I’m still here, Xina. Life still goes on.”

Instead of answering, Alexina closed the distance and threw herself into a hug. Griffon let out a cackle as he flew upwards and away from the two lovebirds. At least, he knew they were. Griffon watched as V slowly brought her closer against his chest, letting her in. It’s been months since the summoning, and Griffon was starting to tell that something was on the brink of changing. Whatever Alexina did, it was either bad or good and Griffon wasn’t about to say a word. Let V figure it out.

He was still here. She could practically squeeze the life out of him since he was so skinny and bony. He always had that type of body, but with the deal, she wondered if one day he’d turn into dust and disappear on the wind. She pulled away, trying to find her courage, her bravery. He was here for now. Life would go on as normal, but she had to obey her instincts. Nothing about this was normal. Normal people can’t summon. What he did was a success, a triumph. “I won’t lie to you. I found a witch.”

Griffon let out an uncomfortable sound at that.

V’s eyes found Griffon’s, “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It means pretty boy that she might’ve found a way to go back into that coffin in the grave you’ve been keeping her away from.” Griffon translated.

“Not yet.”  Alexina gave Griffon a dark look. “What it means is that I might have found someone that we can talk to. Someone for advice.”

“Not yet means you’re thinking it.” V frowned, “Good people for advice? What advice do you believe they have for me?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? She reached for his hand and took it into hers, biting her lip as she tried to find a way to explain. “They were impressed that you were able to gain familiars and to do a successful summoning. That has to mean something, V.”

“She’s not wrong there pretty boy,” Griffon concluded. “We already established, sweetheart, he’s not a witch.”

“No, but what if he’s the start?” Alexina turned towards Griffon. “Or what if there’s a lineage somewhere that we don’t know. Yvette was pretty sure that was the case.”

“Oh boy,” Griffon shuddered. “Lysander Sisters are back. More trouble.”

Of course, Griffin would know them or know of them. V squeezed Alexina’s hand back, albeit not very enthusiastic, “Should I be concerned for you, Griffon?” He wasn’t about to give up his deal, and he would protect his familiars as he swore to protect Alexina.

“Awww Shakespeare, you’re melting my stone cold heart.” Griffon chirped. “They’re strong witches, but nothing that we can’t handle. No, I’d worry more about Hathaway over there. They can help you, pretty boy, but they’ll toss her to the fire. Try to get her to be a demon hunter or some shit.”

“Demon hunter?” V muttered. He wasn’t entirely sure how he should feel about that. Letting out a long sigh he looked down at Xina, “Did you have plans with the witch you found?”

“I didn’t say anything about them showing up but they might?” Alexina offered.

“Lysander’s don’t believe in schedules. They do what they want.” Griffon ruffled his feathers. “They’re no worse than the Sparda family. Show up, do their thing, walk away with property damage. Do you two have insurance? 'Cause you might need that. Especially if little Lysander’s going to be coming over.”

“She’s not that bad,” Alexina assured quickly. “Don’t listen to him, V. Yvette’s not...that insane.”

Unfortunately, V was more inclined to believe Griffon on that one, but he nodded to Alexina anyway. Might as well see how it would go and make his own conclusions.

[amethystunarmed]

Who Could Blame Him?

Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou, implied Todoroki Shouto/Midoryia Izuku

Word Count: 1649

AO3 Link

Todoroki and Kirishima have an important talk about what happened.

Set after the summer camp attack. 

Part 1 Part 2 (You’re here) Part 3 

Kirishima was pretty sure the villain attack on their summer training camp was the worst night of his life. It felt unfair to say. Jirou and Hagakure were still unconscious in the emergency room. Tetsutetsu had been shot. Tokoyami had been taken over by his literal inner demon. Shoji had his goddamn arm ripped off. And Bakugou was…

Well.

All in all, Kirishima had it easy. He’d started the night with Aizawa and Kan. He’d nearly been blown up, sure, but he’d always been with others, always been protected. He’d been absolutely fine. But still, there’d been a moment.

The other students who’d been in the thick of fight returned and Kirishima had spotted Midoriya and Todoroki. They standing so closed their hands were nearly intertwined, Todoroki staring at Midoriya liked he’d pass out any minute. Midoriya had looked like he’d gone through a garbage disposal but Kirishima only saw the tear tracks down his cheeks. Todoroki was battered black and blue, residual ice still crusted in his hair, but Kirishima only saw the dead expression, the  wide, haunted eyes. And he remembered what that villain had said to Kan.

You’re so weak, you couldn’t even stop a criminal organization from abducting your students.

He’d run forward, despite Kaminari and Aizawa, in remarkably different tones, telling him to stay back. He’d run forward, deliriously tired from his god awful classes, pumped up to his eyeballs with adrenaline. He’d run forward, and he’d asked, whispered, shouted, he wasn’t sure, where’s Bakugou? And Midoriya’s face flooded with tears and Todoroki diligently studied the dirt and Kirishima had known. He’d known and his legs gave out and maybe he screamed, and that was it.

That was the moment he was sure he was dying.

And then Sero and Kaminari ran over and Sero hugged him until he stopped shaking and Kaminari counted breaths for him, until he couldn’t remember that only hours before he had still been a little mad at them, until the paramedics ran over and wrapped a blanket, until his body was no longer certain he was about to drop dead.

No, he wasn’t dying.

But Bakugou could be.

And so now, he was lying awake in his bed that was too big and too cold, with only that thought in his head.

It’s three am. His eyes hurt and he is starting to see colorful patterns float by when he stared at the ceiling too long. But when he closes his eyes, he sees Midoriya sobbing, smells the faint smoke and whiffs of sickly sweet gas. It’s unbearable. Kirishima is contemplating ripping his pillow apart with his bare hands, just for something to do, when his phone buzzes. What the fuck? Kirishima thinks with a frown. Who is texting me at three in the morning? He goes to pick it up, and pauses. Possibilities flood his head. Did they find Bakugou? Did he get free? Was his body dumped in an alley? Is it Bakugou himself, replying to the legion of unanswered texts he’d sent every time he felt like he was going to implode? Is he shouting at him, asking how dare he worry? Is he... grateful? Kirishima shakes his head. No, probably not that one. He grits his teeth. The pressure, the possibility of what could be on his phone was so monumental, Kirishima honestly considers just rolling over and pretending it didn’t happen.

Then it buzzes again.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, and grabs it. When he turns it over and reads who the messages were from, he nearly drops it in shock. 2 messages from Todoroki Shouto.

I hope you’re doing well after the attack. I’m sorry for what occurred.

Well, that’s vague. He texts like a goddamn dictionary, Kirishima thinks. He isn’t sure why he expected anything less. The next text had come in a minute later.

I just now realized the late hour. My apologies if I disturbed you.

Kirishima unlocks his phone. The second one is easy enough to reply to.

no worries i was already up

Sent.

and wtf you sorry for?

Todoroki responds immediately.

I was unable to protect Bakugou. I’m sorry.

Kirishima isn’t entirely sure what the fuck he was thinking, his hands reacted without his consent. He clicks through to Todoroki’s contact information, hits the call button, and the phone is at his ear. It rings four times before Todoroki answers. The connection clicks and before Todoroki could even say anything, Kirishima speaks.

“Dude, none of that shit was your fault, don’t even think about going down that path, okay?” There was silence on the other line.

“You called?” He sounds so surprised. Kirishima really hadn’t expect that to be his reaction.

“Uh, yeah?” He replies, for lack of a better thought.

“I… I haven’t…” Kirishima remembers the icy boy from the first few weeks of classes, before the sports festival. The decree that he wasn’t here to make friends. Kirishima had honest to God thought his personality was affected by his quirk, and he was just gonna be an ice cold bastard as a result. Then the festival happened. Yes, the Todoroki they knew now had thawed, but only after Midoriya’s strange and desperate pleas during their match. Even now, he remained on the fringes, and Kirishima had thought that had been by choice but now...

Has Todoroki ever had a friend call him?

Oh, we’re gonna be such good friends after this, Kirishima decides.

“No pressure,” he assures him, “If it stresses you out we can go back to texting.”

“No, this is… fine.” Well, at least Kirishima hadn’t scared him off.

“Okay, cool. But I still mean what I said. What happened to Bakugou isn’t your fault.”

“If I had convinced him to leave–”

Kirishima snorts. “Like anyone can make Bakugou do anything he doesn’t want to.” There’s silence again, but it’s different this time. Kirishima could nearly feel the words clink together as Todoroki strung them along like necklace beads.

“I should have grabbed him. I was a centimeter away. I’m the reason he’s not here.” He says it like an admission, a confession of his guilt. There’s jostling, like his hands are shaking. Though his voice was steady, he’s waiting to be yelled at, Kirishima is certain of it.

“I’m sorry,” Kirishima answers softly, “That really sucks.” Todoroki takes a shocked breath, but Kirishima keeps going. He ‘s firmer now. This feels important in a way he doesn’t quite understand, but nevertheless respects. “It’s fucking awful, everything that happened to you guys. It sucks that you had to watch him get taken. But it wasn’t. Your. Fault.” Kirishima stops and takes a shaky breath. Thank god Todoroki can’t see his face. “It feels like it though, huh. Which is probably why you’re still awake, yeah?”

“Part of it. I… I still see it, sometimes. I had a ni–” He cuts himself off. “Dream. And now…”

“I get it.” He would have to fall asleep for nightmares, but the point is similar enough. Kirishima figures it wouldn’t be good to mention that Todoroki’s stricken face is one of the things that haunts him. Then again, Kirishima did have a full blown meltdown at his feet so they were probably even.

“It must not be easy for you either,” Todoroki says in a tone neither self-deprecating nor pitying, and Kirishima appreciates it. His parents have been driving him crazy, looking at him with mournful eyes, like they expect him to crumble to pieces. Todoroki, on the other hand, just says it as an acknowledgment, which Kirishima had apparently greatly needed. “It was hard enough remembering how Midoriya looked when he met up with us, and I know where he is. I can’t imagine…” It’s a damn shame they’re having a serious conversation, because Kirishima absolutely would tease him about that little admission in another context. Instead, he is just reminded of the empty space in his bed.

“Yeah,” Kirishima says, and if his voice cracks, Todoroki doesn’t say anything about it. “Yeah.”

“Is that why you’re having trouble sleeping? Bakugou's absence?” It's a plain ask, without implications. Harmless, and Kirishima chuckles at it. It’s a wet sound, strangled. His throat tightens.

“You know about that?”

“The pictures are in the class groupchat.” Kirishima is well aware. He saved a copy to his phone.

“Yeah, obviously, but…” Kirishima trails off, because he honestly didn’t know what to call it. “The other part, I mean.” Todoroki thinks for a moment.

“It was obvious it was something the two of you did often,” he muses, “And Bakugou wouldn’t do something like that publicly unless he felt he had reason to, so, I figured…”

“You got it,” Kirishima sniffles. He furiously rubs his face on his sleeve, even though no one is here to see his tears. “Fuck.” The word has too much emotion in it, but still not enough. He feel like he’s drowning.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

Kirishima did get to laugh at that. He can’t believe he ever thought Todoroki was mean. It feels impossible. “Stop apologizing, man,” he chuckled, even as more tears fell. “I probably needed to get this out anyways. I just– Fuck, it’s so stupid, but I miss him. Like, it’s been two days, but I’m so used to him being here and I don’t know if I’m ever gonna get to stop missing him? If that makes any sense? Fuck…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“I think,” Todoroki says, with the care of studying a snowflake fractal, “that doesn’t sound stupid at all.”

And if Kirishima breaks down at that, can anyone really blame him?

Eventually he stops crying, and he and Todoroki share good nights. And though he acts it, he isn’t surprised to see him at the hospital the next day.

He’s even less surprised when they leave with a plan.

[mc-dude]

sulphur

also on ao3

He can’t feel his arms.

That’s to be expected, her voice chimes in, long nails tapping against the data pad with a faint click click click.

You can’t feel what you don’t have.

The particles dissolve in front of his eyes, swirling in slow, twisting patterns that make him feel lightheaded. A red light on the wall catches his eye and he frowns. How did I get here?

He glances down at the swirling mass of nanites pooling around him. It looks simulated, almost– unnatural in a way that makes what’s left of his hair rise on the back of his neck.

Something’s wrong.

His eyebrows furrow, teeth grinding together. What’s wrong?

Everything is going according to plan, Reaper.

Reaper. That’s him, isn’t it? The Reaper, Talon’s most efficient operative. Kill count above three hundred, mission success rate of 97%. Serial number–

A spike of pain lances through his skull and he tries to cry out, but his throat isn’t working. He looks down. His throat is gone, only a black void remains. Panic envelops him until he can barely breathe, and then he’s not breathing, can’t breathe because his skull is disintegrating into a nauseating spiral of particles, what is happening to him–

“Gabriel.”

His eyes snap open. Too many of them, too many eyes– the color of the room pulses from gray scale to red, back to musty brown, red, infrared, overlaps on top of each other– he snaps his eyes closed again, desperately trying to drown out the sound of his own body rotting around him.

There’s a burst of warmth on his cheek and he sucks in a ragged breath, a shaky whine piercing through the room as he latches onto it, nanites clinging to the source like he’s drowning. The warmth makes the buzzing stop, makes the pain in his skull die down to something bearable, so he cautiously pries one eye open. The room just looks like– a room. He lets out a sigh of relief. He lets his eyes drag down the source of the warmth. A human arm, connected to–

“Sombra,” he grits out, head drooping so that his chin hits his chest (his whole chest, his normal, human chest, but his arms–)

“Hola.” She pats his cheek again. “You with me, amigo?”

He shakes his head against the rising, sickening pulse of the headache coming back. “I– I don’t–”

“Gabe, come on. Look at me.”

No, he doesn’t want to. Too many things to see, too many eyes, too many things that are wrong–

“Ugh, dios mío. Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

Someone slaps his cheek. He flinches backwards, head banging against the wall.

“Soldier, present yourself,” someone says, tone laced with authority. His back straightens automatically.

“C–” the word gets caught in his throat. That’s not right, that’s not right. He shakes his head. “I don’t–”

“Serial number. Now.”

He pauses, frantically trying to remember. It’s like someone has placed his brain in a fucking bubble, insulated on all sides, cut off from what’s real–

Another slap. He shakes his head, nanites by where his arms should be pulsing and throbbing with every breath.

“Name, rank and serial number.” The warmth is back on his face, cutting through the fog and making his eyes water. Why is this so fucking hard?

“C-” he clears his throat. “Commander–” is that right? Is he a Commander? It sounds right, it feels right. He coughs, ignoring the black phlegm that bubbles out of his mouth. “Commander Gabriel Reyes,” he manages, the words like muscle memory, and the words feel right, they’re the only goddamn thing that’s felt right since he woke up here. “Commander Gabriel Reyes,” he says again, firmed this time. “Serial number–” come on, come on “– serial number zero six zero zero two–”

Another slap, but lighter. “Wrong. Try again, soldier,” the voice says, kinder this time.

Gabriel sucks in a slow breath, ears ringing with quiet click click clicks. He grits his teeth, trying to sift through the shattered fragments of his thoughts, what is the goddamn number–

A flash of a smile, and the color blue, bright blue like the sky on a clear day, and then–

Seventy-six, huh? Aw, you’re just a baby.

Shut the fuck up, Reyes. Let me guess, you’re number one.

Ha, no. He’s fucking dead, dude. You’re looking at soldier number–

“Serial number zero six zero zero zero zero zero zero two four,” he manages, head lolling back against the wall in exhaustion. “Fuck.”

“Welcome back, amigo.” Her hand pats his cheek fondly. “You wanna pull yourself together? Looking a little like melted ice cream there.”

“God,” he groans. “Fuck off.” His head feels like it’s about to split open. He bangs it against the wall, once, and then again, harder. The pain helps him focus. He reaches out to the nanites in his arms and slowly, achingly slow, begins to knit them back together, one by one until he has something resembling an arm. Then he does the other side. And then his legs, all the way to his feet. He’s panting with exertion by the time it’s done. Sombra hands him a cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he croaks, downing the drink like a dying person. The description isn’t that far off.

“Anytime,” she says, mouth quirked in a soft smile like she actually means it. That smile quickly turns into a smirk. “You know how much I love slapping you around.”

“Fuck off,” he says again, quieter and without any real intent. He doesn't know where the fuck he’d be without her. He hates being so utterly dependent on someone. “Goddamn brat,” he huffs, shoving the empty cup towards her without any finesse.

She puts her hand over her chest. “I’m hurt. And here I was going to give you a new firmware upgrade that has some very, ah, interesting information attached to it.”

He raises an eyebrow, glancing down at the empty cup of coffee, back up to her face. Sombra rolls her eyes. “Fine, fine. You and your fucking caffeine addiction.”

She’s back from the coffee maker in less than a minute, but it feels like a lifetime. He snatches the cup out of her hands before she can give it to him, some of the liquid sloshing over the edge and onto his faded black hoodie in his desperation. He downs the last of it before letting the mug clatter to his side, thumbs rubbing at his eyeballs ineffectually. His arms drop, and he finally meets Sombra’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, almost a whisper. God, he’s so fucking tired.

Sombra smiles at him again, tongue poking out from between her teeth.

“You can thank me by telling me about the coffee,” she pauses, spinning her finger in the air, “about why you drink it like it’s the last thing you’re ever gonna do.”

Gabe snorts, fingers fiddling with the handle of the mug. He knows what she’s doing, trying to get him to remember, trying to keep him grounded in who he really is. He plays along, mostly because he’s fucking terrified of slipping back into what they made him into.

“Any soldier would do the same. You shoulda seen the amount of coffee we all drank during the war,” the Omnic War, the group he led, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Liao, Ana, Jack–

He shakes his head, blinking a little too fast. “We used to crush up caffeine pills and spike the instant coffee just to keep going. Felt like it was the only thing keeping us alive, back then.”

A lifetime ago. Back then, he wouldn’t be so willing to share, would keep his secrets close to his chest, protect them with his life. The only ones who ever really knew him were Ana, because she could call him on his bullshit with a single look, and Jack–

Gabe lets his eyes slip closed. Better not go there. He doesn’t have any secrets anymore, anyways. Sombra already had a two petabyte folder on him before he even met her. He rolls his eyes. Fucking snoop.

Sombra grins at him like she can read his thoughts, and then pushes herself to her feet in one graceful movement.

“Well, that’s suitably horrifying. Fits you’re whole aesthetic, I guess, so props to you for being consistent.”

He flips her off. Sombra just cackles, cracking her knuckles above her head. She moves towards the door, looking back over her shoulder with a indecipherable look. She hesitates a moment.

“You remember your mission, Soldier 24?”

He knows what she’s asking. You good? Gabe looks down at the floor between his legs, frowns for a moment, and then pushes himself to his feet with a shaky hand. He lets out a breath and feels the shotgun coalesce in his hand. He hefts it over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

“Who’s next?”

Sombra smirks. “I already flashed it to your HUD. Jet’s waiting.”

Gabriel lets his coat materialize around him, grabbing his mask from the floor and slipping it onto his face.

They have work to do.

[bl-giftexchange]

BL Gift Exchange fic - Moxxi/Mordecai for dreamingwithsnakes

To: @dreamingwithsnakes From: @ferntxt

Little authors note:

Happy Christmas pumpkin! I hope you have a lovely week and a very happy new year! Here’s a fic for you about the rocky relationship between a hunter and a bartender (with a very special guest at the end ;D)  I hope you enjoy it! - Love Fern xxx

When he met her the first time, he was too busy being surrounded by bandits - and firing at said bandits - to consider even looking up at the commentator singing his praises. Complimenting his aim, his choice of weaponry, barely heard over the stuttering gunfire and blaring music that was just a little too glitzy for Mordecai’s taste. He didn’t see the point in the theatrics, but if that was what got him paid, he’d fight until this woman’s game was over. This was Lilith’s dumb idea, anyway – ‘we may as well, nothing else is going on, and it might be fun!’ Fun, my ass, Mordecai rolled his eyes and sighed dejectedly, popping a shot between the eyeballs of a slightly-too-close brawler. Mad Moxxi, if that was her real name, giggled with delight into her loudspeaker, riling up the crowd. He had grown used to the monotony of easy gunfights – popping shots and reloading mechanically, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was enjoying this just a little too much – the thrill in her voice as she observed the deliciously gory amount of blood and viscera exploding from these unfortunate opponents of his was hard to ignore. Only when the wave ended, and the crowd went wild, did he spare a thought to look up at the over-excited commentator. She looked down at the hunter, her heavily made-up lips curving into a smirk as they met eyes. She gave him a flirtatious little wave, before blowing him a kiss. 

“Good work, sweetie. You defeated the final wave! I do like a man who’s efficient with something long, rigid, and full of firepower.” she called, probably referring to his sniper rifle, but the woman’s bold innuendo wasn’t lost to him. He smirked back in agreement, observing her long hair and her pretty face and her wit and her cockiness and everything on top; and he fell in love instantly. The loot he won was more that compensation for the hours he spent at the Underdome, but no glittering prize was more tempting than a date with Moxxi herself, which he gladly accepted. Lilith gave him double thumbs up, mouthing ‘you’re welcome!’ as the hunter left the arena with the beautiful woman on his arm, using his other arm to call Bloodwing, but not before presenting the boastful siren with his middle finger.

When she met him the first time, she had just split from her third husband, and decided to get her fill of excitement and lust for life through bloody carnage. Hosting the charismatic and interesting Vault Hunters would be a sure-fire crowd pleaser for her audience at the Underdome. The masked man was her favourite; the soldier was too straight-edge and dull, the Siren intrigued her… but she was too brash and bold. As for the big beefy guy… well, he wasn’t much for conversation. The strange man with the rifle on his back and the bird on his arm was mysterious and interesting to her, so she watched him with eyes like a hawk as she perched up in her commentator’s nest. She taunted him playfully from her spot, but she just couldn’t get a rise out of this silent assassin. Only when he was finished with his kills did he look up to connect their lines of sight; at least, she assumed so – his eyes were obscured by those goggles of his. But she knew he was looking when his steeled expression twisted into a wry smirk after she let a soft giggle spill from her pursed lips, blowing him a kiss and offering a sultry wave. She took the time to greet them while they collected their prizes, sashaying with an expert pace up to the masked man. The gentle clicking of her heels couldn’t be missed against the hard floor, catching the hunter’s attention. “Congratulations on your winnings, mystery man. You’re a capable sniper indeed.” Moxxi smiled, leaning over onto one hip. “What’s your name, kiddo?” The masked man paused briefly from shuffling through the loot, and looked up to face the woman. “It’s Mordecai.” He responded, and Moxxi noticed his teammates looking over his shoulder to look at her, with armfuls of heavy weaponry. The siren was nudging the brawler with her elbow suggestively, and he chuckled deeply. “Well, Mordecai, I was wondering if you’d be interested in the grand prize I’m offering. Namely, a date, with yours truly.” She shaped her face into a warm smile as the siren rapidly tried to get the attention of the stoic soldier, slapping his arms and back wherever she could reach. Mordecai offered you a wide grin and a nod of acceptance, and you fell in love instantly, conveniently enough.

When the two met for their date, it was in a dingy little bar in New Haven - Pandora was a little romantically limited in terms of dating spots. They sat at the bar together, drinking Rakk ale and exchanging playful banter throughout the night. Moxxi couldn’t help but notice Mordecai’s bird curled up atop the bar, resting peacefully, the man’s gloved hand carding through its feathers. It seemed to be the leather-clad sniper’s constant companion – it was an interesting little pet, she’d never seen such a creature. “His name’s Bloodwing.” Mordecai explained, as if he had read her mind. “We’ve been together a long time, him and me. He has my back, and I… I feed him, I guess.” He snorted, and she laughed pleasantly. “He’s a very interesting bird. I haven’t seen one like that before. Can I…?” Moxxi moved her hand towards the bird, and Bloodwing make a deep groaning sound. “He’s a little temperamental. He tends to bite people he doesn’t know that well, so I wouldn’t.” Mordecai told her, and she accepted it, retracting her hand to place it delicately around her bottle.

A few months into the relationship, and Moxxi was beginning to realise that Mordecai probably hadn’t dated much. He seemed much more interested in that damned bird more than spending time with her. She had tried everything; distracting him, arranging dates, even trying to get him into bed, for God’s sake- to no avail.  One day, it got too much, and it came to a head. “So, what is it?! Don’t you love me anymore? Am I not good enough for you?!” she yelled, the mist in her eyes threatening to ruin her makeup. “No! God dammit, can’t I do anything without you taking it as some kind of personal attack?!” he fired back, Bloodwing ruffling his feathers at the commotion. “Don’t you dare make me the bad guy in this! Is it too much to ask for some of your time once in a while?!” Moxxi crossed her arms angrily, willing herself not to cry at his cruelty. “I have shit to do, Mox! Did you forget I’m a fucking Vault Hunter?! That comes with a level of responsibility! There’s always something else to do, and I’m sorry that you don’t take priority over the safety of literally everyone in New Haven!” he gestured wildly with his hands as if to emphasise his anger. “And what about you, huh? You ain’t a fuckin’ shining example of loyalty and commitment. You ran off to fuckin’ Concordia! You went to another goddamn planet without me!” “I am out of here. Come find me when you decide this relationship is worth something, and then we’ll talk! Until then, I’m done!” Moxxi announced, stomping towards the door to Mordecai’s dingy little apartment, flinging it open and slamming it behind her with all the force she could muster. She marched towards Scooter’s garage, tears streaming down her face. Her son poked his head out from under a broken runner, immediately on the defensive. “Ma?! Oh god dammit, did Mordecai say something? What’d he do this time? He better not ‘a hit you or I swear I’ll-” He was cut off by a mechanical whistling sound, and a horrific crash; Marcus’ shop behind her exploded and threw her off her feet. She looked back at the burning building and the slowly marching army of bright yellow loaderbots, and made a futile attempt to run back to the man she loved. By the time recovered from the fall and pulled herself up, Mordecai was already out of the building, rifle in hand and bird in the air. He spotted where she and Scooter were lying, and he ran over as Scooter pulled her up. Mordecai addressed him as Moxxi leaned against her son for support, the hunter placing an arm on her shoulder. “Listen to me, kiddo. You take that runner, and get you and your mom to the safe zone, okay?!” he commanded, Scooter nodding but barely grasping his circumstances in the daze the explosion had caused. “Y-yeah, you got it. C’mon Ma, we need to get the hell out of here.” He agreed, but she was not so complacent, looking up at Mordecai for some assurance of hope. “Listen to me, amor. I need to know you’ll be alright, and the best way for me to do that is to get you out of here. I’ll come and find you, okay?!” Mordecai assured her half-heartedly. She never got to give her a response, as Scooter was already rushing her away into his runner, and she looked back at the burning town, weeping softly with guilt and fear. Mordecai looked away from the carnage at the speeding runner and the cloud of dust it left, sending her away with a silent prayer and the promise of a reunion somewhere safe.

The dynamic between them was different after New Haven. The attack cost them a lot of people. Moxxi fled to Sanctuary, along with the rest of the surviving populace. Mordecai was swept back up into being a Crimson Raider, which meant he was fortifying the town, off on scouting missions, and all the rest of it. He hadn’t even had time to meet her and apologise for what he’d said, he didn’t even know if she was okay. Scooter gratingly told him that she was alright a few days after the attack, and he made it a priority to visit her, despite Scooter’s obvious displeasure in talking to him. Moxxi had opened a bar in her own time to help boost the morale and wellbeing of the townspeople; she became the gatekeeper of her own haven, providing food and drink and music. Mordecai stood nervously at the entrance to the aptly named Moxxi’s, shuffling his feet a little. How the hell would he even talk to her? How would he even broach the subject? He walked in nervously, looking around at the mostly hollowed out building; they hadn’t been here long. As if forcing his hand, she walked out of the back room with a crate; noticing him, she stepped back slightly in shock, the crate clattering to the floor. “…Mordecai?” she said, not believing what she was seeing, a man she assumed dead. He looked different now; the leather mask covering his face was abandoned, but the goggles remained. The monotonous colours of his clothes had been cut through with a thick crimson scarf wound around his leathers. He looked tired. “Hey, Mox. I’m sorry that I–“ Mordecai was cut off by a pair of slender arms around his chest, squishing him tight, and a soft face against the crook of his neck. “Don’t you apologise for this, you stupid, stubborn man. Don’t apologise for any of it.” Moxxi laughed softly, “It matters so little to me now. I’m just glad you’re alive.” “You were right, though. You were lonely, and I should have been kinder to you about it.” He responded, his hands settling on her back. “And I ain’t claiming to be any kind of expert on how any of this works, but I wanna get it right this time. An’ I hope you’ll give me another chance.”

Moxxi pulled back a little, tucking a little bit of his headband back under the strap of his goggles. She pursed her lips with a little smile. “Weeeeell, it might take some convincing. Perhaps we should go out for drinks again sometime.” “Ahh, I dunno, Mox. You’re really pullin’ my leg here.” He replied, making her laugh. “But I can’t really say no to that face, hm? I’ve got time.” Moxxi pressed a kiss to his check, escaping his grasp to call out to the young man helping her renovate the bar. “Asmus, honey, take a break if you want. I’m heading out for a little while.” She called to her ashy haired assistant, and he responded with a curt nod, placing the crate he was holding down gently to sit atop it. Moxxi turned back to the hunter, and he held an arm out for her to hold, with a wide grin. She beamed, winding her arms around his as they left the bar together, walking out into the hot Pandora sun. This would work out just fine, Moxxi thought, rolling her head over to one side to sit against his shoulder.

[dreamilyenchantingwasteland]

This was too long for Twitter.

[Tweet: I fucking hate when ppl share graphic animal cruelty stuff on facebook like seeing an animal brutalized makes me physically sick]

@oneunaccountedfor​ said: I've had this argument internally so many times, also about the horrors of war and military action. Ultimately I think I'm with y'all, that it's not good to force such imagery on people. It can feel so goddamn hopeless and desperate though when people are so defiantly ignorant and wicked on account of their ignorance. I want everyone to be horrified of these things—but brutal imagery just makes them horrified of me and the immediate. It doesn't create understanding. It's not a real lesson. I mean, in principle I'm not opposed to harm per se—if the harm is that I'm bringing people to awareness of evil and they are appropriately upset, that's a very moral kind of "harm." But I dunno. There's so much context and I'm with you also that we want to create a sensitive and caring environment, not a cold & heartless one where we constantly psychically bombard each other I wanna find some writings on this, I'm sure they're out there buried in the good social justice discourse. I feel so lost at sea. @dreamilyenchantingwasteland​, any thoughts?

Hmm. Okay, totally off-the-cuff thoughts on this: It’s complicated. (Of course.) But I don’t think what’s complicated is the morality of sharing the message so much as questions about context. Which sort of seems to be what @saladgirl is saying also.

I DO think that when people are confronted with incontrovertible evidence of horrific, brutal acts, it changes them. Photo/video evidence is still considered relatively incontrovertible by most people these days. (This may shift.) And so, for example, I think the success of Black Lives Matter largely comes down to the fact that otherwise sheltered people have recently been “forced” (or “allowed”) to see countless videos of police brutality against black people.

Likewise, I’ve had a number of people tell me recently that they became a vegetarian or vegan because of some documentaries they watched about the horrible conditions of factory farming. Their narrative is usually something along the lines of “I always thought factory farming was bad but I could never quite get myself to quit eating meat — until I saw that movie, and now I can’t get the images out of my head, fuck.” Similarly, we’ve all heard the stories of people turning vegan after working in a slaughterhouse, etc. And, I mean, the Vietnam protests were caused in large part by people seeing the reality of war on TV.

I suspect this kind of brutal imagery doesn’t change the minds of anybody who’s already firmly opposed to the position being put forward — partly because, I suspect, those folks have in some ways already bitten their bullets. Hawks understand that war is brutal. Hunters and farmers know that killing animals is disturbing and disgusting in many ways. Cops and cop-lovers, obviously, are not surprised that police are violent towards black folks. These people just have pre-constructed justification narratives for brutal acts, so when they see them happening “in the flesh” they can apply their narrative and sleep at night.

On the flipside, people who in theory believe that war, police brutality, animal cruelty, domestic violence etc. are wrong but don’t see it in their day-to-day are constantly trying to manage a sort of ethical cognitive dissonance. Their (our) narrative is less about why these acts are categorically okay, and more about how they’re probably not really happening. Not like THAT anyway. How a lot of the stories are apocryphal or exaggerated — PETA being drama queens or whatever — because, surely, the world can’t be THAT terrible of a place? And yet we go around with this sort of quivering anxiety in our guts that maybe the world *is* that terrible a place and we’re not doing anything about it.

So, when we’re shown incontrovertible evidence that, in fact, our worst nightmares are true — black children are being murdered with impunity, dogs are having their noses cut off, women are being brutally raped in their own homes — that low-level anxiety in our guts explodes and we’re left with several choices: find some way to deepen in our denial (but usually with an awareness that we’re doing it), join the “other side” by picking up their narrative about why these things are no big deal/a necessary evil, or take action in line with our values. Most people choose one of the first two, but probably enough people choose the third option (at least for a little while) to justify this strategy. It’s like a very “tough love” way of preaching to the choir.

All of that being said, here’s where we come back to the question of context. It’s one thing to have some doubts about the morality of eating meat, and to decide you’re going to watch an investigative documentary about factory farming order to understand more about how horrible it is, with the full knowledge that this may push you over the edge in terms of not being able to stomach animal products — in fact, maybe that’s (consciously or subconsciously) part of WHY you’ve chosen to watch that documentary.

It’s another thing entirely to wake up in the morning and find that someone has taped pictures of animals being tortured to the ceiling above your bed. That’s an abuse tactic. And while I believe that causing “harm” or discomfort in the interest of encouraging ethical behavior is justifiable, abuse never is.

So, you’ve referred here to people posting images of animal brutality in such a way that they end up in your social media feeds as “forcing” you to see them. And I think this is the crux of the issue. I think we can agree that it’s not bad for these images to exist. These things are happening to animals. Better that they be documented than not documented. Better that those documents be publicly available than that they be hidden or destroyed. Even, arguably, perhaps better that they be broadcast with the intent of raising awareness among those who would be more likely to do something about it if they were reminded, viscerally, that this was happening.

I think we can also agree that it’s wrong to force people to watch triggering content against their will. So, to what degree are we being forced to engage with that content when it’s posted on social media? This isn’t a rhetorical question. I don’t know the answer. Certainly, corporate social media platforms are intentionally designed to captivate us, to in many ways force us to keep using and looking at them even when we don’t want to. I think that may be more of a problem with ad-driven social media platforms than with the people posting troubling content to them, but that’s sort of a whole different ethical can of worms.

But is it okay to broadcast images of animal torture (or police brutality, or domestic violence, or war) on the TV news? (TV and radio usually provide a content warning before they do something like that: “Attention, the following program contains x, y, z and may be upsetting to some viewers.” In fact, it might be interesting to read e.g. some writing by professional journalists about whether or not they felt it was ethically imperative to publish or not publish the Abu Ghraib images — because that was something the field of journalism itself had some conundrums over.) Is social media more akin to the TV news, or to your personal inbox, or is it something else entirely?  Do the cultural contexts and/or feed management options of different types of social media streams matter? Is it more okay to post torture videos on Twitter than it is on Facebook? Tumblr? Reddit?

Again, these aren’t rhetorical questions. I think these are some of the questions we’re all having to wrangle with because we are dealing with a whole lot of very new communications technology and, tbh, we haven’t had much time to establish normative ethics around their use. Journalistic ethics and interpersonal social ethics are blurring together and crashing into each other all over the internet right now, and they’re often at cross-purposes. Eventually, there will be clearer etiquette guidelines about what should be posted where and everyone will know them — and will have to break them with intention if they want to share information that isn’t supposed to be shared there. It’s conversations like the ones we’re having right now that are going to help establish those etiquette norms. But for the time being, it’s a little bit of a free-for-all and I think many folks are taking advantage of that — for good or for ill — to get their content in front of eyeballs without much need for concern about the social consequences of doing so.

So, yeah, it’s complicated. But here are the gut intuitions I personally have about sharing torture videos (animal or otherwise) — because apparently we live in an era of history where “sharing torture videos” is a question of ethics and etiquette we all have to ask ourselves about.

1. As long as torture is happening, it’s good that torture videos (and still images, etc.) exist and are available to the public.

2. Nobody should be sending that shit to your phone directly: No texting it, no sharing it in group chats unless they exist for that purpose, probably no posting it directly to your Facebook wall. Basically, nothing that triggers a notification. You should never click through a notification with no warning and suddenly be face-to-face with images of violence.

3. If you use your social media account primarily for social communication, keeping in touch with family, chatting with friends, etc. you probably want to be pretty sparing and considerate about posting disturbing imagery on it. If you use your social media account primarily for broadcast, political, or awareness raising reasons around this issue, post whatever the hell you want; your followers know what they’re signing up for.

4. It’s always okay to post links to content you’re deeply moved by, with content descriptions, and encourage your friends to watch them if it’s safe for them to do so. It’s polite to remove the preview images.

5. Social media platforms ought to be better designed to give users more control over what they see and don’t see. You should never have to see animal torture images if you don’t want to, even if all of your friends are posting them daily, because there should be ways for you to block/unsubscribe from certain types of content not just entire profiles.

In short: It’s not really an issue of whether or not it’s okay to share disturbing content for awareness-raising reasons. That’s a tactic that has inherent pros and cons, always has, and always will.  It’s an issue of the current ease and scale with which that content can now be shared outside of predictable (i.e. journalistic) contexts — and, because of that, there is an ethical imperative for software developers and designers to give users more granular filtering facility. Precisely for the reason that we are now in a situation where people need to be able to make personal decisions about their level of exposure to things like torture videos. They won’t, though, because the same kind of software that would allow you to opt out of seeing torture videos would also allow you to opt out of seeing ads.

[thedeviljudges]

What are your thoughts on twitter stealing tumblr gifmakers gifs?

i feel like my thoughts are pretty well known about gifs in general, but fuck twitter for that shit honestly. no one was ever making gifs for fuckin twitter, lmao.

and i think what annoys me is that no one does the due diligence to pay attention to stolen gifs on this website, so what makes me or any other gifer for that matter, think that people will pay attention to stolen shit over there? like, most of twitter’s content is already stolen as it is, and now it just makes the problem even worse by allowing people to do that.

i’ve never had an issue with my stuff being used as reaction gifs. my issues are people taking my shit, recoloring it and posting it. posting the entire set or a handful of one set or taking mine and others to make their own little + caption.

if gifers wanna make content for twitter - ok fine. but who the hell is gonna monitor it?? bc i s2g twitter is 10x worse than tumblr. do i wanna go back to labeling my stuff with my user? no bc we all decided how awful it makes the set. but goddamn if it doesn’t make me wanna go back and start doing it.

for anyone who makes gifs, i’d check out this blog post. i need to implement it, but it prevents ppl from right-clicking on your blog. is it fool-proof? no, but like.... fuck people who steal.

i’m not exaggerating when i say that gifs take for-fucking-ever to make. it’s not just about pretty colors - you gotta find the downloads, cut it up, import it, resize, color uglie ass fucking scenes (which can take experimentation for every. single. gif. in a set bc guess what???? computers read colors very differently than the human eyeballs - so if a scene looks all the same color, lmao, guess again!!!! you’re fuckin lucky if you can take your coloring and copy and paste it onto another gif and it actually look good), add dialogue if needed, and then make sure it fits within the guidelines.

i suppose gifs aren’t regarded as detailed or as important as physically drawing pieces - after all, those get way more credit and support. but just bc i don’t own the content doesn’t mean there wasn’t creative thinking involved.

and i’m sorry for my rant. none of this anger is at you but at everyone who’s ruined people’s desire to make gifs bc they couldn’t just ask us to make something for them OR not learning how to do it themselves.

[ecotone99]

[SF] The Road to Hell is Through Kentucky

“Criminal Record?”, asked a highway billboard of James as he drove by. It was only after he’d passed it and cranked the radio up contemptuously that the sign’s red-lettered answer registered: “No pardon - only job! Call us!” A moment later, he was coating his borrowed ride in limestone dust with a wide 180, moving the transmission to protest as he turned. He steadied, facing the sign’s rear in silhouette, as the early evening sun stung his eyeballs. He grabbed his mom’s sunglasses from the console and got back up to speed.

A text alert sang out from his days-old phone as he pulled up across from the billboard. Seeing its preview from his lock screen, he sighed at the thought of reading it all and turned the engine off. Hey James, your mom gave me your number. I knew you and Tim were close and it was good to see u today-

A message from another world. One where driving high was a fact of life, and if people perished, God must have needed another angel. He wondered why they didn’t speak of God’s need for their man-slaughtered victims too - wouldn’t they need less reforming in heaven anyways? At least Tim had only killed concrete, and himself, and good on him for avoiding the condescending treatment by dying. That, and Kentucky. If only James had had the privilege…

He called the billboard’s number in a hurry.

“New Pathways Employment Services - how may I help you?” the exotic-for-Kentucky woman chirped.

“Uh, hi, yeah, uh, I saw your billboard and called about work. I have a record.”

“Great! So, I just need some information from you. You’re calling from where, sir?”

“Kentucky. Richmond’s where I’m closest to for big cities-”

“Good, good. Just needing to know which office to transfer you to, you’re good to hold?”

James checked his battery. This new thing was a tank.

“Yeah. Can you not play music though?”

“I’m afraid that’s automated, sir. I’ve heard worse holding music myself, though. Good luck with the position!”

“Thanks. You t...fuck.”

James flicked the phone to speaker and let it sing jazz in the passenger seat where his suit jacket lay crumpled. Even the birds were quiet, like an audience of kids for a transistor radio ball game.

At least you got invited.

And at least he got to see Tim’s parents, who actually gave a shit that he was still sober and had bothered to come out.

“Hello?” a man asked from James’s phone.

“Oh, hi,” James answered, seizing the phone and switching it off of speaker. “This is the Richmond office for New Pathways?”

“It certainly is! I am the HR coordinator here. You’re interested in working for us?”

“Yes. I could use that, yessir.”

“Well - you’re in luck. We call ourselves research, but really, that does us a disservice. We got federal funding, we got pay for you, obviously, and we’re even helping out this beautiful country.”

“Amazing! So - what needs to happen on my end?”

“We would just have to meet up in person to go over a few things. Confirm your record - maybe a first for you - and make sure you are up to the task as a participant.”

“I’m up to anything. I need the work, obviously, but I’m also glad if other people can be helped.”

“So are we...so are we. And we will. How is tomorrow, the Monday then, for you, uh…”

“James. James Alexander.”

“Alright, Mr. Alexander. You name a time, and we’re over at 584 McArthur Road here in town.”

“I can do noon.”

“Beautiful. You have yourself a good night then, Mr. Alexander.”

“Night.”

The sunset was warm as James slumped in his seat to smile at it.

/

New Pathways’ office building loomed like a new law firm; the glasswork must have used up a small beach. James braced himself and walked through into its drafty lobby, where a young man in the middle of the lobby glanced up from his typing to ask James:

“How can I help you today, sir?”

“I’m here for a noon appointment with New Pathways, with your HR person.”

The secretary kept typing at half-speed with one hand and pushed a separate button with the other.

“I’ve let Mr. Wilson know you’re here. Would you care to take a seat, and grab yourself a water or a coffee if you’d care to? He’ll be down right away.”

“Yeah, sure, sounds good.”

The seating area was an island of clutter off to the side of the bare foyer. Its resident coffee pot was burned to a crisp, and the seating was sparse. Still, James helped himself to coffee and picked up an old Psychology Today to read in a patterned armchair.

“Psychopaths Among Us! The New Norm?” read its title on top of a photograph of a pretty woman holding a mask of her face. James cracked a smile. Happily, as the title story soon told him, there was no literal danger of increasing psychopathy among humanity. The more pressing challenge was children raised right acting wrong and not understanding what they’d done wrong quite well enough. The article’s last segment had a picture of a priest, sans mask, talking about the importance of community - though quickly clarifying that this did not need to come from a church. His unpictured fellow, a school principal, expressed the same sentiment.

“Mr. Alexander?”

James dropped the magazine to meet the HR person, who seemed younger than James even, and had an honest-looking face.

“Yes…” James stood for a handshake, “You’re Mr. Wilson, the HR guy?”

Wilson smiled.

“Something like that. It’s good to see someone reading those things. Are you a psychology buff?”

“I took some in college. I like how they can present it so simply, you know? It’s different from reading however many news articles on my phone that have different conclusions…”

“I hear ya...are you good with some stairs?”

“Lead the way.”

The second floor was denser, save for a couple expansive board rooms. Wilson led him to a modest office at the very end of the hall.

“Have a seat wherever you’d like!” Wilson said with a flourish, giving the option of two whole chairs. James sat down in the straight-backed one while his interviewer settled in behind his desk.

“So…” Wilson began with a smile, “I am so excited to have you with us. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of questions, but I felt like a brief introduction to what we do could be helpful to start - I’m guessing you saw the billboard?” James nodded.

“That’s quite an approach to branding. How many other desperate bastards have ended up in here?” That won him a laugh.

“We have had a few. Though - and this may sound like a lot at once - you seem more promising than most. That’s not me being intuitive or flattering you, full disclosure. We work with the criminal justice system and have read the basics of your case, as well as the kind of man you’ve been since.”

James bristled. “Well I’m glad at least you think I’m promising, based on that. No other employer has cared enough to see the change. ‘Recovered felon’ is really only a badge of honour in movies.”

“I know. Whereas for us, it’s a big deal.” Wilson clicked his pen and scribbled a note on a clipboard. “Have you ever heard of H-A-T-T?”

“That’s not a familiar acronym. Is that a therapy? A procedure?”

“Yes and yes. I’d be concerned if you knew it, so you’re likely not a liar. In short - it is about transference of feelings with a clear goal in mind.” It was James’s turn to laugh.

“You can do that? Chemically? That seems neurologically impossible and/or dangerous for both parties…”

“Don’t forget how we actually used to put people on antidepressants, James. The limits of what works and does not work are always changing...”

“Well, fuck me. That does sound useful. Outside of how it could be abused. Seems like a short walk to dystopia from a world in which that’s possible.”

“You’re not wrong.”

James eyed an old-school portrait above and behind his interviewer. There was a likeness there, though the painted figure had a chest full of war medals.

“Is that guy a relative?” James asked. Wilson smiled.

“He was my father.”

“I’m sorry...when did he pass?”

“Two years ago.” Wilson turned, pen in hand, and pointed at his Dad’s likeness.

“He’s maybe even worth discussing here. This is what I mean. People I’ve interviewed thus far wouldn’t even have asked that. How do you suppose someone who wears all those medals ends up dead in his 50’s? It’s not a trick question.” And still, there was no good answer to it.

“Is it stereotyping to assume he killed himself?”

“Yes...but as usual, you’re not wrong. He had a mini-Rwanda type situation back in Yemen, where there was ethnic cleansing happening and the UN were cowards.”

“Shit.” “Indeed. And he didn’t write a memoir or end up telling middle schools about it, he just ate a gun one day. Unnecessary guilt. Doesn’t much matter to the brain if it’s unwarranted, right?”

“Right.” The coffee was scalding. James set it down.

“And that’s kind of where this all started for me. I was so goddamn pissed that someone like him would die when other people can’t feel appropriately guilty for anything. Not that you’re one of those, so far as I can see.” Wilson stood up and went over to the window, overlooking an empty park and streets full of traffic. “And I figured, what if people were to feel what they were supposed to feel? What could that look like?”

“You have my interest peaked, at least.”

“And as it turned out - I’ve worked in ‘agencies’ for years - I wasn’t the only one with that idea. Scientists have been working on feelings transference for a while, and the possibilities are endless. They’ve gotten people who languished in therapy for years to feel less guilty about stuff that paralyzed them for years...” James grabbed a stress ball of the desk, and used it as prescribed for once.

“So this is early stages stuff then? I haven’t read one news article even about any of this.” Wilson turned around and came back to his seat.

“Those are the good results I mentioned. The others...complications are likely, if not inevitable. Just like how a kidney transplant can be worse than none, so, too, can poor matching be awful - for both parties.” The notepad went untouched. Wilson was zoned in like a goalie at match end.

“And, really, that’s where we get to your case. We can keep making efforts at better matches with our procedures, and we will. But there is a population of society with less to lose and more to gain on this stuff.”

“Talk about an ex-prisoner’s dilemma…”

“Only your outcomes here are better than the original prisoner’s dilemma, I swear. What if I told you you could make a guilty piece of shit feel guilty for what he did? Reform him, preclude him from recidivism and thus from modeling criminality to his kids and the whole bit? That’s within reach, James. That is precisely what we are researching.”

“Goddamn…”

“The downside, and there is a real one, is that you would have to feel terrible things. Experience terrible things. And that shame and guilt or whatever is appropriate for the offender would be siphoned out of you into them, if you were a match.” James’s stomach dropped and he scratched at his armrest.

“‘...experience’?”

“Through VR. Very good VR. It makes use of brain matter from the original offender, while the transferee wouldn’t get the VR - they’d receive the physiological results of your experience via intraneural transfusion. And to you, your crimes would be 100% real until the whole process was complete. There would be no sense of self or even free will, per se - just you doing awful things. You’d feel similarly to how you felt when you killed your friend three years ago, to a much greater degree. That’s how we would be using H-A-T-T in this instance.”

“Fucking hell. I haven’t been through enough already to pass it on to someone else?”

Wilson sighed.

“If only. There’s a critical difference between contrition which obviously transformed you to be better and the kind of precursors to contrition that another person would require. And with getting you to experience new things too, there would be no limit on how much we could incentivize someone else.”

“That’s fucked up.” Wilson laughed.

“And isn’t the status quo? Isn’t broken people going back to broken families and expanding them while blaming the system? Isn’t 15-year-olds in the suburbs acting like how only terribly traumatized youth used to?”

James leaned forward unwillingly from the growing sense of weight.

“I don’t know if that’s a burden I’d want to bear…”

“We have no evidence that you would need to bear it past the procedure, though. We have more research into healing than re-incentivizing people, for obvious reasons. And, also, I lied.” James shot up out of his seat -

“Wait, WHAT? What…”

“On that first billboard you must have seen. There is a pardon at stake here. Not a chance, not conditional, but the real deal. You, free, with the potential to be a social worker or psychologist or whatever you want. Just think of that.”

James slumped down and eyed his coffee, awash with ripples from his near-outburst.

“Who’s the worst person I would have to be? Don’t tell me I have to be a serial killer.”

“You do have to be a serial killer, yeah. The alternative would be getting you to commit a bunch of more minor crimes which wouldn’t hurt you in the same way. We couldn’t map those to objectively awful actions the same as we can with famous murder cases - any robber could have secret good motives, after all.”

James tried his coffee again. It seemed stronger and more bitter, somehow. The mug at least made pleasant chiming noises as he drummed on it with his fingers.

“So there’s no way I will remember being Ted Bundy or whoever. I’ll just be Ted Bundy, then end scene, and I am me again, and Joe Pseudo-Psychopath is now Joe Repentant?”

“That’s close to it, yeah.” James looked at Wilson Sr. for a while. He still looked happy in his portrait, noble and American.

“I can do it with conditions. If I’m going to be on anything other than general anesthetic, I need to be confined for a few days afterwards. I break out in track-marks from any drug.”

“Absolutely. We have safe housing and medical as well as security staff.”

“And I want updates on whichever poor bastard ends up feeling what I felt, even if I don’t get his name or anything. I do not just want to be a lab rat.”

“Of course.”

Wilson’s right hand clasped his left. He didn’t blink very often for someone who thought so fast.

“And I guess naturally this is an ‘I talk I die’ kind of thing?”

“Not quite, though you would end up back in prison with no one to believe you. We have you on that one breach that no one else knows about, and would not hesitate to share it with your parole officer.”

“...Where can I sign?”

submitted by /u/SurelyHecked [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2H5B6LZ

[ppandfm]

Parties, Formal Meetings & Pinetrees   Chapter: 2

Description: The day after the boys meet~! After a long night and all we get to see the daily lives of Dipper and Bill. With a special guest appearance of Pyronica!

    Dipper had been quietly pacing for almost a few minutes now. He was stuck thinking about that note he had just read not long ago. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise he identified as his body demanding food. After a moment’s rest, he decided to go get some breakfast. Dipper wasted no time going downstairs to get some food, taking the stairs two at a time in a slight rush. By the time he made it to the kitchen to get his breakfast, Mabel was already there eating three oranges.  Dipper, taking a deep breath, trotted over to the fridge to get some fruit himself. From the previous night, he was still pretty tired from that Misery’s unnecessary visit. Mabel probably wasn’t that upset about last night, which was a good thing. Though, he could never shake the thought of that note the Misery left behind. He was tempted after all to just throw it away and be done with it. Not even bother getting involved and continue on with his day.

But, there was something strange about that guy. He didn’t seem to hate Dipper, unlike any other Misery he’d ever met. All the rumors said Miseries would rob a rich person without thinking twice. So, why is it that Bill didn’t even try?

Maybe Miseries weren't as bad as everyone said they were.

Dipper shook his head. Of course Miseries are horrible. Bill never thought twice about how sleeping in the teen’s bed would affect Dipper. Hence, Dipper’s back was sore. He should get rid of the note; it would cause nothing but trouble.

But, then again, Bill was very pretty.

Dipper was still having an internal debate when Mabel handed him a lemon slice. He didn’t realize until he started sucking on it.

“Ptoo! Mabel!” he exclaimed. His devilish sister began to laugh. She didn’t stop until Dipper attempted to get her back by punching her shoulder. She brushed him off as her laughter died out.

“Aw, c’mon, bro bro. Let me have my fun.”

“Fine, as long as you prank someone else.”

“Okay. Hey, did you hear all that music last night? I think Love God is testing out some new music.”

“One, his name is Bill. Two, it was a party. I called the police on them.”

Dipper paused realizing what he said. Fuck, “Who’s Bill?” Mabel raised an eyebrow.

“Uh- uhm.”  

“Were you at the party last night?” Dipper cringed at the thought. Being at a party with those Miseries? He didn’t like the thought and what would his parents think of him?

“No Mabel I wasn’t.”  Mabel squinted as Dipper simply stated his answer. She smiled as another thought came to her head. Maybe there was something more about this ‘Bill’? She had to find out.  “Is he your secret boyfriend or something?”  

Dipper about choked on his fruit as he felt a blush creeping up on him. He tried to not focus so much on the thought, but he couldn’t stop himself. Him with a Misery? He only cringed more. That wouldn’t really work out. Right?  He shook his head dismissing it. No he wouldn’t...would he?

“Ew Mabel no-”

“I mean I don’t have a problem with you being gay bro bro.”

“Mabel please no-”

“I mean like there could be a chance, you may never know.”

“Mabel stop-”

“What’s the matter with dating a guy Dipper?” Mabel tilted her head as she continued, “You can tell me anything Dippin’ Dots.”

Mabel grinned before leaning over and giving Dipper a light shove. Dipper rolled his eyes huffing as he tried to compose himself once again. “There’s nothing going on between him and I-” Goddamn it there it went.

“So you DO know this Bill!” Mabel exclaimed as she poked her brother's’ cheek.

“N-No, no I don’t!” Dipper huffed again staring at his sister blushing a little more.  

Mabel laughed at her twin’s gayness, “Was he the reason you were cursing loudly last night?”

Dipper opened his mouth to retaliate, but he didn’t. Really, Mabel wasn’t wrong, although he wouldn’t admit that. He couldn’t deal with the teasing. He must have blushed; his twin started giggling.

“Oh my god, look at your face! You’re a tomato!” she exclaimed, not speaking again until her laughter had died out, “You’ve got a secret that I wanna know, but I’m not gonna pressure you into telling me because I’m a good sister and I love you. If you ever wanna tell me what this is, you know where to find me.”

Mabel punctuated her sentence with a kiss to her brother’s forehead. He smiled at her and gave her a hug, “I love you, Mabes. You’re the best.”

“I know. And you’re right. I am the best. I should run for president!”

Dipper laughed, patting her face, “Just don’t be like that Quentin Trembly guy down the street.”

The twins laughed together as they separated to get ready for the day. Dipper took a quick shower- which totally wasn’t a cold one because he’s not fucking gay- after which he went to his room. He thought about just not going to school that day, but his grunkle wouldn’t give him his inheritance if he didn’t graduate, so he pulled on his uniform. He grabbed his school books off of his desk, glancing at the note again. After another moment of thought, he stuffed it into his pocket and left for school.

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

Fucking Peanuts. That’s what ended Bills beauty sleep. Well if you count sleeping until 1 in the fucking afternoon. After getting back to his house half an hour later from that Richie’s home. Bill took the time to sleep and endure his hangover. He wasn’t a morning person anyway. He sat up with a groan, “I swear to freakin’ triangles, if those are actual peanuts, I will cut your dick off.”

“Don’t have one, ya freak,” Pyronica said. Bill opened his eyes to glare at her, “Then I’ll murder you in cold blood if I have a reaction.”

Pyronica laughed and pointed at the bathroom, “Then I suggest you go take a shower or you’ll lose your pyrotechnic.”

The blonde groaned and made a mad dash to the bathroom. He heard Pyronica’s shrieks of laughter as he jumped in the shower and turned the hot water knob. Or what he thought was the hot water knob. He squeaked loudly when the ice cold water hit his face. But, he stayed under until he was certain that he wouldn’t have a bad reaction. Bill stepped out of the bathroom, sopping wet. His female friend handed him a towel without looking up from her phone, “Hope you enjoyed your shower. One of the Eyeballs spotted a Richie boy carrying a card with your number on it. Know anything about it?”

Bill smirked and started rubbing his hair, “His name is Dipper. I crawled into his bedroom last night while I was hiding out from the cops. He’s actually pretty cute, so I thought maybe I could get a taste of the forbidden fruit.”

Pyronica stopped texting and looked up at the blonde as she raised an eyebrow, “You gave a richie your number? That’s not like you Bill.” Pyronica clicked her tongue as she turned and left the bathroom taking a look at her phone as she finished the rest of the text.

“What? It’s something new, better than giving another one of us my number.” Bill pointed out as he followed after.

“Well I’m not saying it’s a bad thing. It’s just not like you. You usually just give someone either a fake number or if you’ve known them for a long time.” Pyronica sat down as she looked up at Bill. “So, what’s special?”

“I dunno. I just felt something, ya know?”

“Not really. God, you’re so gay.”

Bill laughed, “Yeah, I know. Now, if you don’t wanna see my schlong, I suggest getting out of my room.”

“Of course. You’re gonna be at the thing downtown today, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya there. Out,” he said. Pyronica bowed mockingly and left the room. The blond man shed the flannel, tossing it in the corner of the room. After pulling on a new shirt and pair of pants, he looked at it.

“So, you are thinking about me. That’s hilarious. Talk to ya soon, Pinetree.”

Bill grabbed a tie and exited stage right.