#something something I might have teared up in the process of working on multiple parts of that doc.

[asavt]

More warmp ups/ideas for that one AU that is still in the google docs.

[cheriewoo]

Bathbombs & Little Deaths | Kim Hongjoong ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 02 : Praise, Body Worship

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What do bath bombs and little deaths (orgasms) have in common? When they burst, the aftermath is heavenly and ultra soothing. And HongJoong is here to give you both. Will you survive what Joongie has planned for you in the warmth of the bathtub, or experience a little death in the process?

Word Count : 2.4k Genre : Idol Au, Smut, Angst. Pairing : Boyfriend! HongJoong x F.Reader

WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, oral (fem recieving), bathub intimacy, use of jewelery (rings), dom/ sub undertones, multiple orgasms, bodyworship, praise, pet names (honey, baby, babygirl, angel ), mentions of alchol consumption, aftercare, nipple play.

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 2 is here, ma chéries, and it’s a HongJoongie fic day! I’ve always wanted to write something involving a bathtub, so here I deliver. I may have gone a bit overboard with the word count, staying up late at night, so I hope you enjoy this pieceand shower it with alot of love.

Also, "Little Deaths" in French means "Orgasms." They’re called that because they’re so intense, it feels like you die and are reborn as a new person (a reference from Emily in Paris, S1).

Sorry for the long note, but here’s a glimpse of the bathroom (imagine it with more space for your hands) where our Y/N experiences her little deaths!

After the best album release and a power packed comeback..all Hongjoong wants is to relax in bath tub...with you of course.

Saying Hongjoong was on cloud nine would be an understatement. After pouring their blood, sweat, and tears into Ateez’s latest album, the concluding part of their The World series, the leader was incredibly happy and proud to see the album breaking records, winning numerous awards, and charting on global rankings. Most importantly, the Atiny were going loco for their title track "Crazy Form." The group had already celebrated officially with all the team members, but Hongjoong decided to throw a mini party just for the members, inviting their close friends to join in the celebration.

It was 2 in the morning, and finally, everyone had left after having a crazy yet cozy night. You and HongJoong had somehow managed to send San home since our little kitten had gone overboard and gotten a bit too drunk. It took Wooyoung and his girlfriend dragging him out while he babbled about protein, gym and working hard for atiny — our kitten was such a gym freak and fucking adobarble but extremely sincere idol that even in his drunken state, he couldn't stop declaring his love for atiny.

As you cleared the living room, making sure no one had left anything behind, you noticed Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen.You paused for a moment, listening to the quiet house, the faint sound of water running upstairs catching your attention. A small smile appeared on your face, already knowing where Hongjoong is, you made your way upstairs, to your shared bedroom. When you reached the bathroom door, you could see yellow glow of candles peaking through the door, you both loved scented candles and night baths, so having them in you bathroom was a must.

Hongjoong looked up as you entered, his sleeves rolled up while he dissolved your favorite vanilla lavender bath bomb. A soft smile spread across his lips. "I thought you might like a relaxing bath," he said, standing up and walking over to you. His hands slid around your waist, gently pulling you closer.

You felt the tension of the evening start to melt away just from his touch. “You read my mind,” you murmured, your hands resting on his chest.

“After tonight, I think we both deserve it.” he replied.

You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your fingertips, a calming rhythm that matched your own.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Come on,” he whispered , “let’s get you out of those clothes.”

You smiled, letting him help you undress. His fingers were gentle as he worked your clothes, guiding them down your legs. Once you were both undressed, Hongjoong stepped into the tub first, holding out a hand to help you in. The water was perfectly warm, enveloping you like a soft blanket.You settled between his legs, your back pressed against his chest as his arms wrapped snugly around you, pulling you even closer. The water rippled gently around your bodies, infused with the sweet scent of your favorite vanilla and lavender bath bomb, now fully dissolved, creating a soothing, fragrant haze in the tub.

You could feel his breath against your neck, his lips brushing your shoulder with a soft kiss. You sighed and leaned back into him. While his lips decorated your neck with butterfly kisses, his hands were busy massaging your breasts, occasionally pinching your nipples. His cold silver rings added another layer of stimulation, sending sparks throughout your body. Eventually, his tender lips made their way to your ear, nibbling on your earlobe. “Thanks for tonight, love. Without your help, this party wouldn’t have been possible,” he whispered, his mouth now kissing the most sensitive spot behind your ear, which instantly turned you on.

“I’d do anything to see you happy, Joong. But if you really want to thank me, I can think of a few ways we could make tonight even better…” Your head leaned back on his shoulder. You were extremely turned on at this point, and the ache between your legs was proof of it.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed, slightly biting the skin below your ear. You winced with equal parts pain and pleasure, eventually succumbing entirely to pleasure as Joong’s hand traveled down south while his other hand was busy playing with your left nipple. His rings left a trail of goosebumps whenever they came into contact with your skin.

“Have a few things planned for you, babygirl,” he whispered, his thumb now busy rubbing up and down your entrance, his platinum ring on his middle finger coming into contact with your pulsating core, collecting your slick to gently make circles on your clit. A tremble passed through your entire body. You never knew a few silver rings could stimulate this much. Each touch on the sensitive nub and the cold metal contact had you jolting a little, and you could feel your eyes begin to well up with tears because of the stimulation.

“Joong, please…” your bottom lip was between your teeth, fully flustered by the way his hands and lips were miraculously working on your body.

“Does that feel good baby ?” he asks.

You sigh “feels so good” that last part comes more like a whine.

“You wanna cum, honey?” he asks again, his digits moving faster now, rubbing your entrance, slick juices leaking onto his digits and coating his silver rings. You were extremely wet and desperate for a release, responding to him with a breathy moan. Suddenly, his movements stopped, all at once earning a whiny whimper from you. He quickly took a lick of his fingers, where your juices coated and glistened on his shiny rings.

You twist your body to face him. “Joong, I need yo—” he smashed his lips to yours, hands cupping your face as you melted into the kiss, tasting yourself mixed with his saliva. Your hand traveled to his neck, pulling him impossibly close as you deepened the kiss. Your body twisted fully toward him, never breaking the intense, firework-like kiss you two were sharing.

Breaking the kiss after who knows how long, he took a moment to admire your face. A red blush decorated your flushed cheeks, your puffy cherry-red lips looking more inviting with every passing microsecond, and an angelic glow coated your whole face, causing a volcanic eruption of emotion in Hongjoong’s chest.

The moment not only made Hongjoong’s cock twitch from desire, given how turned on he was at that very fucking moment, but his heart ached with so much love for you. The only way to put this feeling into words was to either write a whole freaking album about you or fuck you till eternity. Only one of these could satisfy the fire blazing through his entire body.

For now, Joong decided to go with the latter, letting his desire take the lead.

“Can you sit on the surface, baby?” he asked, helping you stand and eventually guiding you to lay on the island, your elbows propping up your body. Your legs remained in the water as Hongjoong settled comfortably between them. Gently opening your legs, his lips found their way to your smooth thighs. He had always admired your thighs for how soft they were, but right now, he was needed somewhere else—somewhere very urgent and aching for his tongue.

But Joong planned on savoring you little by little, and sleep was not on tonight’s schedule, so he was in no hurry. His mouth coated the inside of your thighs with gentle kisses, occasionally surprising you with playful bites, reminding you how much of a switch he could be. Sweet kisses trailed their way to your aching core, where you needed him the most. Your world was spinning, and all you could do was encourage him with your needy moans.

He took a micro moment to admire your glistening core, shining and waiting eagerly for him to devour. Wasting no time, he gave a gentle yet thorough lick of your core, just to taste and satisfy his anticipation. The taste short-circuited his brain, your sweet juices inviting him to feast.

He dove in deeper, his tongue exploring your glistening core, savoring the sweet juices that turned him on while his unattended cock hardened with desire. Each teasing flick sent shivers through your body, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Joong…ahh...oh my god, keep going, please,” you whimpered, urging him to go on. He responded by intensifying the swirling of his tongue over your most sensitive spots and switching to suck on your bud, driving you wild. The world around you faded; all that existed was him and the intoxicating pleasure he was giving you at that very moment.

“Almost there, baby; I can feel you coming,” he murmured, his voice vibrating against your skin. “Give it to me, baby. I want to taste every bit of you.” With one final swirl and a harsh suck on your clit, the knot in your stomach snapped, and you cried out his name as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Your body arched, trembling under the force of your release.

He didn’t stop, eager to drink the last drops of you, his mouth still working its magic. “You taste divine, honey,” he grinned, pulling back to admire your blissful expression. “You’re absolutely perfect, and I can’t get enough of you.” The satisfaction was clear in his eyes as he enjoyed your pleasure drunk face.

Was he done with you tho, heck no…not so early.

While you recovered from the high, he swiftly got out of the tub, grabbing the towels from the shelves and laying them on the bath island for you to get comfortable. As you moved onto the fluffy towel, he made himself comfortable on top of you, not fully crushing you but putting just the right amount of weight to maintain that sensual feeling. Somewhat recovered from your high and realizing the position you both were in, you gently wrapped your legs around his waist. A swift pull brought his lower body entirely onto you, his cock settling perfectly on your core. Your toes curled at the sudden contact with his hardened dick.

He settled his face between your boobs, kissing the center, eventually taking your right boob in his mouth. His hands balanced his upper body while his dangerously skilled tongue swirled around your nipple, sucking and biting, erupting pleasure throughout your entire body.

With each suck on your nipple, soft gasps escaped your lips, your body arching into him as pleasure radiated from your chest. “Oh, Joong, that feels so good,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging at his roots and earning a groan from him. His mouth worked its magic, his warm tongue swirling around your sensitive yet now hard nipples, sending electric shivers through you.

He took his time, alternating between gentle nibbles and deep, hungry sucks, each sensation earning soft whimpers from you. “Mmm, just like that,” you encouraged, feeling the heat rise in your core with every tug of his lips. The way he lavished attention on your breasts ignited a fire deep within, leaving you breathless.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his tongue dancing playfully, devouring your soft breasts before pulling away just enough to tease. You felt a rush of heat as his eyes flicked up to meet yours, a mischievous gaze adorning his face.

The weight of his body pressed down on you, the heat radiating against yours driving you wild. “More, please,” you whisper begged, in a sultry tone.

“Want more, baby? Are you ready for me?” he teased while positioning himself at your entrance. “Hold on tight,” he murmured, giving you one last teasing kiss before shifting his weight, his hardened length pressing against your soft skin, ready to push inside you. The anticipation was mind-numbing, and you could hardly contain your excitement.

“Please, Joong,” you whimpered, feeling every inch of him as he hovered at your entrance, desire clouding your mind. “I need you.”

Wasting no time, he slowly began to push inside, stretching you deliciously. A gasp escaped your lips as he filled you, every inch sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You feel so good, baby” he breathed, sinking deeper and deeper; it was painfully pleasurable.

With a steady rhythm, he began to thrust, each movement earning soft moans from you. “Oh, Joong, yes!” you gasped, your fingers digging into his back, encouraging him to go faster. The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, a sultry melody that resembled ATEEZ’s alluring and catchy beats.

He quickened his pace, his thrusts becoming more urgent, guiding you to the edge. “You like that, baby?” he rasped, his voice low and filled with desire. You nodded, lost in the pleasure, the heat pooling in your core.

“I'm close, Joong” you breathed, your vision almost blurry, on the brink of seeing stars, both literally and figuratively. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, swallowing your cries as the tension peaked.

“Cum for me, baby” he urged, his thrusts becoming merciless, pushing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you as you cried out his name, your body trembling beneath him.

With a few more deep thrusts, his release came, a low “fuck” escaping his lips as he spilled inside you, pushing both of you over the edge. Those bath bombs and little deaths truly marked the end of you both, leaving you breathless and satisfied. Hearts racing, you lay together as the world around you faded, leaving only the sweet memory of the moment shared.

You checked the time on the wall clock; it was about 5:30 AM in the morning, the sun almost about to rise. After laying down together for a few more minutes, Hongjoong helped you clean up. The morning rays made their way into the bathroom from the large windows of your bedroom.

As you both stepped out of the bathroom, the morning sunrise greeted you both. Basking in the rays for a few seconds, Hongjoong said, “I love you, baby. I love you so much” as he looked at the sun outside, a warm feeling spreading throughout your body. “I love you too, Joong” you replied, a smile dancing across your lips as you reached to kiss his cheek. He smiled earnestly at you.

“And now we sleep, baby. I need my eight hours to handle Wooyoung’s tantrums in the office” he chuckled as he mentioned his teammate. A menance Wooyoung’s face crossed your mind. Closing the curtains, he dragged you onto the bed, and you both fell into a blissful sleep.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[juniperdugong]

Perfection Pt.2; Alive

Brought back to life via lightning bolt, you and Mingyu discuss what happens now that you're back. He makes it clear that his intentions are to make you fall in love but is that such an easy task?

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack, Romance, Angst

Warnings: Reader wears feminine clothing || Mentions of death and corpses (Nothing in-depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Mentions of suicide || Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

WC: 4.7k

Songs that inspired this fic

Teaser | Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 |

A harsh slap to the face. Or rather, the cold smack of a linoleum floor. Your welcome greeting back into the world of the living. Your hands go to grasp anything they can hold onto on instinct but you find your muscles still tight and rigid. Processing such overstimulation is a task that not many would survive and even you at this moment are still reeling from the effects of, what was essentially, a lightning bolt shot into you. Too possessed by confusion to notice as strong but gentle hands grasp your shoulders guiding you to sit on the table you once laid.

"I've got you…" a firm and quiet voice attempts to assure.

Mingyu meets you with a stack of clothing, putting it down next to you. "Sorry, I was going to dress you before you woke up but I didn't want them to burn…nor did I think it would work at all." he says the second part in a hushed tone leaving you unsure if you should have heard it all.

You attempt to speak but your mouth feels sewn shut; Within a second of noticing your discomfort, he's at your side with an urgency that rivals EMS. Bringing his hands to your jaw, his expression grows serious as he gently relieves the pressure with a couple sways. His concentration makes your heart jump. He's so close and you can tell he takes this seriously; He takes you seriously. "Better?" he looks at you with concern.

"B-better." your mouth feels dry like it's filled with sand and gravel.

His face lights up as you speak. He stutters as he attempts to talk but resolves to holding your face in the palm of both his hands, holding you like a precious jewel. "It's worked…" It looks like he might just tear up but before anything threatens to spill he is picking up the stack of clothes once again and placing them in your lap. "You should get dressed, I didn't mean to have you indecent for this long."

He leads you to a corner of the room and grabs a foldable partition to cover you, even though he's already examined your body before. You can practically feel his excitement as multiple content sighs come from him from beyond the screen, the patter of his feet telling you that he's cleaning up all the things he had set in place before.

Once you're finished dressing yourself in…very fanciful(?) dress (what was meant to be put on you for your funeral viewing) you move the partition to find Mingyu standing underneath the skylight gazing at the night like a god. "Thank you," he whispers to it before you grab his attention.

"Ready?" he starts. "For?" "Right, I haven't told you anything yet. Forgive me." He leads you to sit on the rolling stool. "I have woken you because…" he sees the way you look up at him with doe-like eyes and anticipation, it makes him falter for a second before continuing. "…because I want to find love and well I was compelled by something unknown to me to believe that I might find that in you. I'm sorry for doing this without your permission, I didn't exactly have the means to ask." he doesn't meet your eyes when he says this. "But, if you don't want this, I won't force you. I've given you a second chance, I don't intend for you to be in my debt for it, however."

The way he speaks is so proper and refined compared to how you remember boys in life. His eyes barely meet yours as he waits for a response. Fearing the worst he begins to speak,

"You-" "I agree." your words strike him like arrows and poison his face with confusion. You continue, "I am not in your debt, I didn't ask for this umm-" he can sense you're searching for something. "Mingyu." he sees your discomfort in speaking and brings a bottle of water to hold before you. Waiting for you to finish. "-Mingyu. But since you've given me this chance." your memory flickers to the feelings of wanting someone, of loving someone, that you had before your death. "Why wouldn't I at least give it a try?" He looks up at you in astonishment but bites his tongue waiting for you to give more details. You take a sip of the water he's brought and it soothes your throat enough. "I think love is also something that I wanted in life but was never able to find. I don't remember feeling loved I mean. And I don't know if this will work out the way you imagine, I expect many complications because I can't hold out hope for the life of me. But that does not mean I can't try to fall in love…with you." for the first time he lets you hold his gaze. "Okay." Several seconds pass in silence as you both absorb everything. "What now?" "I had a plan…if you would like to go along with it." "Tell me-" "Of course!"

He goes on to tell you about what he had imagined. About taking you to either a shop to get more appropriate clothes, more comfortable ones; Or to his house to relax after something so-chaotic. In either case, he would defer to your wants and needs. He made sure that you knew that he was at your beck and call if you wanted him to be.

Without much deliberation you agree to go back to his home; It being far too late to consider if this is inappropriate, you were past that point the moment your lifeless eyes met his loving gaze.

Now you're in the front seat of his car, a silent drive, not even filled with music. You remember what it is to feel nervous now. The sweaty palms, the glances, the fidgeting, all of it comes back to you in this moment and you think What if this is wrong. Not once since you've been reanimated have you reflected on your choices or his but this silence gives you time to deliberate, albeit briefly.

You know how weird this all is, you've made peace with that. But the matter of love…that is your concern. To promise someone to try and fall in love with them? You barely know him. Although he is as handsome as it gets and obviously infatuated with you, you can't say that love can grow out of something as small as physical attraction. You've always thought of love as something much greater, maybe that is your failing but it is your opinion nonetheless. And now this conundrum has you-

Before you can finish your thoughts the door is opening and Mingyu is outstretching his hand to help you out. He leads you up to his home. A nice 2 story house, quite rare for a single man you think but you don't know how much money comes from the mortuary business. He fumbles with the keys before finally opening the door. Instantly, you are met with the same warm and inviting feeling you found when you first "met" Mingyu.

You would half expect that someone as clean and careful in the preparation room as Mingyu might live oppositely in his personal life but you are pleasantly surprised as the home you are in is as spic and span as can be. Cozy and clean. You're almost in wonderment at it but seeing how Mingyu comes in with ease and knowing makes you relax into the space as well. There is comfort in knowing that this home is his because he, himself, is comfortable to you. You don't know why that is but there is a sense of familiarity with Mingyu, maybe it's the same sort of feeling he felt when he looked at you for the first time.

He brings you in and sits you down in the living room. The lights cast an orange glow over everything that brings a great deal of warmth, something your body lacks. He doesn't so much as speak and it leaves you to think. Being left alone with your thoughts is nothing new but you have so much more to think about now with this situation.

Mingyu busies himself in the kitchen that overlooks where you sit. Your back is turned to him so you don't notice how he stares at you, your every movement making him restless; It's as though he's waiting for you to approach him, to call for him. But you don't, too wracked by everything to move so much as an inch from where he left you.

He returns with some ramen for the both of you. Setting it on the coffee table and motioning for you to join him on the floor. You have a hard time sitting down and once again he's practically jumping up to help you. Even still his gaze is beyond you, looking far past and never truly meeting yours.

"I should've told you that you can turn the TV on, I'm sorry…"

"Please don't."

"Don't? What?"

"You keep apologizing. You apologized for bringing me back, you apologized for not having me dressed. You don't need to apologize for even smaller things than that, Mingyu." You take hold of his hand as you say the last sentence and turn your attention to the ramen. "Thank you for this."

"Of course. I'm sor-" You give him a look and a smirk before he continues. Giggles are exchanged and you both turn attention to the TV for a time before stealing glances back and forth at each other, much more focused on being next to each other than what the game show host is rambling on about.

Dinner finishes and Mingyu takes both your dishes back to the kitchen. He returns quickly and shows you to the bathroom, "You can wash up. I've left some towels and clothes for you to change into on the sink. I hope they fit. But please…take your time. Enjoy your bath.". His eyes plead with you like he isn't simply wishing for you to have a good bath but instead, he is asking you to do so. He leaves you to your business.

You relish the feeling of a warm bath drawn. It brings you to life a second time or it is what truly makes you come to life. Your skin reacts to the warmth and color crawls back onto you. The pinkish tones cover you and you notice how the gray disappears in place of it.

You're once again alone with your thoughts and it allows you to think about everything, every moment that you can remember since awakening. The morgue, the journey in the car to the mortuary, meeting Mingyu, and then formally meeting him. It oddly makes you feel a bit empty. You don't know how to feel. It's all so surreal and you have to wonder if this is simply the afterlife, a mirage painted by god to make you believe. But he keeps bringing you back to the present.

Mingyu. Sure his looks might make you think he is an angel of some kind but his heart is human, maybe the most human amongst everyone you knew in life. His gestures and words and well…his life just feels like he is someone. He is tangible and real. He grounds you. In the same way you might've wanted to in life. You feel as though he will call you back home if you were away too long. And it's strange but it's fantastic and it makes you feel something, he makes you feel here. You do not wander in his presence and that empty feeling fades when he is near.

And just when you are finding comfort in Mingyu and contextualizing it you finish your bath and put on the clothes he's prepared for you. Some shorts and a tank top. Plain in their colors but it does strike you as odd. Why did he have women's clothes if he was single? You hate to doubt him so early on, a mere hours after meeting. But it does make you wonder, the thought draws you out of your body, and doubt surfaces along with anxiety. You hate yourself for it honestly. Because you barely know him and yet you feel so deeply about some made-up mistrust. You can't stand it and before you take a second longer to think about it, Mingyu does as he has since you woke up. He brings you back down to earth.

A loud knock at the door, "Sorry-shit, I mean I'm sorry for-Never mind." His voice instantly brings a smile to your face and any meandering thoughts you have float away, you giggle at his stuttering. "I hope you enjoyed your bath- I mean if you're still in there I don't mind but I just wanted to let you know that I'll be waiting in the living room…if you want to talk a bit before bed." He endears you so completely and as he perks up to speak again you are opening the door.

You're met with a hushed "Ah" as you see him. The smile on your face is contagious, catching on him and allowing you to see his shining fangs that make him resemble a puppy. His hair is wet and you suppose in the time that you've been bathing he's had the time to take a shower and change. He's wearing loose pajama pants and a white t-shirt that, because of the light, shows off his muscular figure. You are captivated and he follows your eyes chuckling, "Umm the living room?" you nod and he takes your hand in his as if it is the most natural thing in the world, leading you back to the couch downstairs.

You both relax into a comfortable silence. A sigh comes from you which he follows and you both are snickering at the gestures. How beyond ridiculous this day has been and yet also so perfect. There is so much to say and so little words to convey the feelings and thoughts you have. But who could blame you? It isn't like this situation is any more simple than a normal relationship or friendship. All the more complicated by the condition of your body and soul. After all, a corpse - it is infeasible, by regular means, for something like this to happen.

"So-" "So." in succession you both speak earning mild laughter from each other. "You wanted to talk about…" you begin with the obvious. "Right, I just wanted to talk. Gives us some time to get to know one another. But, even now I can't seem to find the words..." "I can't either. I mean- I just don't know what to say or talk about." "That's okay. We can start with something simple." "Like?" "Like…a game of 21 questions?" you have to scoff at the idea simply because it's so…normal. In all this mess of things that have been peculiar and weird, Mingyu is asking for something normal. "Okay, you first then. Since it's you're idea." It takes him a while and you let it happen, feeling no need to fill the space with idle conversation. "You're favorite color?" It takes you by surprise just how simple his question is and even still you are unable to answer with certainty, "Hmm I don't know. What's yours?" "Mine? I asked you the question…" he smirks. "I know but I don't think I have one-" "C'mon, you don't remember having one or you don't think you ever did?" "I don't know. Maybe I never did…" you ponder for a moment, you really don't remember much about your life other than the feelings. He's a bit baffled by the revelation but he doesn't want to bombard you too early so he concedes to your answer. "I guess, we'll just have to find you a favorite color then! Right, your turn."

Now you take a moment to think. "What about me-" you gesture up and down on your body, "caught your eye first?" There is a smile on his lips, "Honestly…it was your lips. Most people I see in my prep room come in with cracked and dried lips but you came in and I don't know, it was different. Your lips looked like you could wake up at any moment and-" he stops himself from saying too much, his mind in battle with something as strange as an attraction to your body, "You looked alive and yet you weren't, it captivated me." he says to you earnestly. You didn't know how to respond to such honesty. So you just let it be, allowing the muffled noise of crickets and the rustling of leaves to fill the awkwardness. "My turn again. Hmm, since we're jumping into the fray, what do you think of me?" You look at him confused, "What do you mean?" "I mean, I've brought you back to life, you're in my home, and we've talked about things that I've never talked to anyone about. So, what do you think of me? Of this?" he motions towards everything in the room so you can assume he means the situation. "I can't really say. I mean I accepted your proposal but it's not like I had many other options, y'know?" "Right." "I can say that this is new for me though. Attempting something like this, I don't think I ever did it in life." "You never fell in love?" "I don't think so…I don't remember those feelings." Gloom overcomes Mingyu as he hears this. "But! I think that just means that I have all the more to gain from this experience, right?" you try to assure him. "Right…" he's still mulling over what you said but gathers himself, "Your turn" "Okay- well, let's get back to a lighter note, what's your favorite song right now?"

You guys go back and forth for a while exchanging different likes and dislikes. The room is now more cozy with the familiarity growing even more between you. It's down to the last 4 questions now, Mingyu hums with anticipation as you search your mind for something to ask.

"Ah! I got it! This is something I've been thinking about but I didn't know if I should ask you about it. If we're taking things seriously then I don't want things to start off with any regrets or things unsaid so I'll ask anyway." "Okay, shoot." "Where exactly did you get these clothes?" your hands wave over the pajamas he gave you. "Oh, those are my younger sisters. She left them here during her last visit." you visibly relax at the answer and he notices. Being a bit bold he reaches out to place his hand on yours, "Hey, I know we just met but I wouldn't do anything to hurt you, certainly not give you the clothes of some other person." You take him for his word and grasp his hand in yours, allowing your fingers to intertwine. The ease of the action doesn't seem to affect either of you, it's like your hands were made to be together. "Your turn, Mingyu." "Hm hm hm…I was gonna ask you this anyway but since I can't come up with a good question I'll ask it now; Where do you want to sleep?" your puzzled expression spurs more of an explanation out of him, "I don't know where you're most comfortable so it's really up to you. The couch is comfortable but it's lonely down here. I have a guest room I can set up for you, when my sister visits that's where she sleeps. Or I can give you my bed for the night, don't worry about me I can sleep almost anywhere so it's no big deal, more comfortable than the guest bed though in my opinion." You digest all your choices, "The guest room works. Any bed is better than a body bag-" you joke earning a smile from Mingyu and a squeeze of your hand in recognition. "Done, I'll get that ready for you once we finish the game." "The next question I have is a bit of a serious one…" your tone makes him sit up straight.

"What happens to me?" "What?" "I mean, I'm dead according to official records and you were supposed to prepare my body for a viewing. What happens to me now that I'm back? What happens to my viewing? To the people who might go to that?" "I don't- I don't know." now he's as concerned as you are, making it evident that he didn't think this far ahead. "You were scheduled for a quick viewing, nothing fancy. And we have until next week to figure stuff out-" Mingyu begins racking his brain until an idea hits him. "I- We can say that you asked to be cremated. You left it in your…note." Both of you sour at the mention of your suicide note. "Right but doesn't the coroner have that? Haven't they read it by now?" "Yes, I mean it's a big part of determining your cause of death. But if we can go in there-" "Mingyu. You are not suggesting…" "I am. If we can get into the morgue and find your belongings, all we'd have to do is swap out a sheet of paper." The fact that this is on the table at all is blowing your mind. It's so incredibly risky. Maybe even more risky than just saying he lost your body. But if it works it certainly would clean up your issue quite well. No one would question the wants of a dead person, would they? Mingyu waits expectantly for your approval and after a minute you give it to him. "Okay." "Okay?" "Okay, we can try this but…" you look at him, both of your hands now holding his as he stares back at you with his big brown eyes whose effect is akin to a siren song. "-but we have to plan this out carefully. The morgue is the one place where people might recognize me easily since, y'know, they've seen my dead body." you try to drill seriousness into your words. "Yeah yeah of course! We can plan it out as carefully as you want, y/n."

The day has been long and although the conversation is lively enough to keep you both going Mingyu recognizes that rest should come sooner rather than later. "-But I think we should reserve that for tomorrow. I need to start getting your room together." He begins to get up before you're grabbing at his wrist. This man has been waiting for you to call for him; To reach for him, you've got him sitting back down in an instant as all his attention focuses on you.

"You have the last question, Mingyu." "Oh- Oh I- Umm." your touch lingers on him like some sort of spell meant to leave him in delirium. "It's okay, we don't have to finish the game-" "Ahh no no no, we can finish it, it's just one question…should be super simple to come up with one question." he contemplates for a while before speaking up again, whatever's come to mind making him blush wildly. "You can say no to this!" Great start Kim Mingyu, "I know we just met and this is a very sudden request; And I want you to know that you can refuse it if you don't feel comfortable. But since we've talked about the nature of what this is-" he motions towards the both of you, "-Do you think it would be too soon to ask for a kiss?"

Your mind goes blank. A kiss? Now? Unsure of what to say or how to react you just look at him with a stunned expression. Mingyu takes your apprehension as a "Not right now", not wanting to push you any further than you're comfortable with. He moves to cup your cheek, "It's okay, it's too soon, I know. I'll go get your room ready.", with that he's up and walking up the stairs.

You're still in shock from the question. Out of everything he could've asked and everything that he has asked this is the question that stumps you. Your mind is working overtime to process it. A kiss. Is that what you wanted? He was right, it is too soon. But eventually, would you get to a point where you're ready for that step? The thought runs rampant in your mind and you find yourself imagining what a kiss with Mingyu might be like, while also slightly scrutinizing yourself for missing the chance of finding out.

Lost in your imagination you come back to reality as Mingyu is coming back downstairs. "It's ready." You follow him to the guest room; It's just a few feet away from his room and as he ushers you inside he lets you know that if you need anything at all he's a few steps away.

The room is as clean as the rest of the house and you find yourself wandering around it in search of more pieces of Mingyu's life. A vanity holds some skincare products that are lightly used, Mingyu's sisters you think. Tucked between the mirror and the wood frame that holds it are a few childhood photos of the 2 of them. You can't help but smile as you picture them playing. The dresser holds other clothes, some of them you can discern are his sisters but others seem to be men's clothing. The closet doesn't reveal much other than spare towels and blankets.

You retire to the bed after your snooping and it doesn't take long for dreams to seep into your mind.

The dreams you have come to you more like visions. Recollections of the day spinning off into "what ifs-". What if you hadn't accepted Mingyu's proposal? Where would you be now, what would you be doing? If he hadn't woken you up at all? Would your soul be trapped in your body forever reaching for an afterlife and never finding one? And what if you had kissed him tonight? Would you still be here, sleeping alone in this empty room? Or would the night have somehow veered in a direction where he and you would be sleeping side by side? The night leaves you to meditate on the endless stream of questions and before long the sun rises.

Peaks of sunlight linger in the empty room but it isn't what wakes you. It's the loud footsteps that go up and down the stairs, the cacophony of different/unfamiliar voices, and the final straw, your door opens and a dolphin-like scream rings your ears.

Before you can open your eyes and see who it is they are running out of view but leaving the door swinging wide open. A man with glasses peaks his head in like a curious cat, immediately apologizing at the sight of you, "So sorry.". Promptly he closes the door leaving you reeling from the abrupt intrusion and unable to pinch together enough sense to realize the predicament you're in.

The door bursts open once again, and this time Mingyu rushes in. "I'm so sorry, they came in so suddenly. I told them not to come up-" "Who?" "My friends, it's okay, I yelled at them to go back downstairs. Are you alright?" he's hurriedly assessing your condition as if you were the one who screamed. "I'm fine…just shaken?" "Okay. Well, wash up, don't worry they won't bother you again and I'll tell them to leave." "You don't have to-" "I do though, they are so annoying" he huffs which elicits a laugh from you. He pats your shoulder before moving his hand towards your face, running his thumb over your jawline, admiring you for a few seconds. "I'll meet you in the living room?" "Yeah, I'll be trying to get those weirdo's out of here." he gets up and closes the door behind him as he leaves. You can hear a muffled yell that echoes through the halls as Mingyu scolds his friends.

Another day has come and you are absolutely alive.

A/N: This one was a doozy for me to write and by far the longest part in a fic I have ever made (even b4 this account lol) but I hope you like it! Please comment, like, and reblog if you do! Seriously, it encourages me so much to hear what you guys think. My biggest hope in posting this part is that it'll make me feel more confident in my writing since I've been in a slump ;-; Anyways my loves have a good weekend!! The taglist for this series is open and my requests are open as well!!

TAGLIST (open):@jjin-kun @mydolle-dd

[diamondvic]

I like to think that, even after becoming a disassembly drone, V DOES have some amount of bad vision still. It makes her more interesting.

V as a worker drone had bad vision for sure, and worker drones can have bad vision in general and can need corrective lenses (for .. some reason). This is vision in the visors themselves.

The couple times we see through disassembly drones’ vision (N while fighting Uzi in ep 1, N looking for Uzi in ep 4, V while walking down the hallway ahead of N and Uzi in ep 6), they definitely appear to have multiple views they use at once, while workers only have the one. V’s views even show her managing to look ahead of her and to the sides at the same time, so the concept art’s showing DD’s ‘headbands’ functioning at least partially as eyes seems to remain true to at least some extent. If this IS the case, they could feasibly help make up for her visor eyes.

But disassembly drones are also made stupidly to self destruct and drive their hunting- so multiple views ongoing at once could be just another additional process that speeds up overheating. Additionally, V as a DD doesn’t really act on precision compared to the other two- she’s much more likely to just brutally rip apart prey with her claws than she is to shoot, as opposed to what N and J seem to do. V IS violent, of course, but she’s not necessary *better* than the other two - she’s just more likely to be messy and go all out.

It would make narrative sense for V’s blurry vision to be a literal ‘turning a blind eye’ to the carnage she’s causing. V, desperate to do her duties and keep N safe, throws herself into being a Murder Drone. She does her best to act as if this brutality is something she enjoys, that she isn’t hurt by having to keep away from N, that she isn’t hurting him in turn. V was a worker drone, and to at Least some extent, (I’m unclear, personally, on how much she remembered. More than N did, but she might have only recovered All her memories after episode 5, while N only recovered some of his) she surely Knew what she was doing wasn’t exactly ..right.

But what does it matter? Turn off the extra vision, the extra precision- she doesn’t need it. She’s built for this- this is her very purpose, her Only purpose, now. It’s so very easy to blur her world out, not see the look on N’s face when she brushes him off after another so painfully genuine, wholesome, sickly sweet attempt at connection. It’s more efficient this way. Don’t burn the extra oil when she can work just fine without wasting, don’t get distracted. No time to rekindle anything with him, and even if there was, would she even *want to?* That would mean telling him things. Being more honest than she ever wishes to be again. No, no, she doesn’t need to see him. She pretends to not hear the hurt in his voice, either.

The drones she kills are faceless from afar - she doesn’t need perfect vision to lock on a target, to relish the chase, to unsheathe metal claws she’s convinced herself she doesn’t hate, to viciously tear, to hungrily drain the oil that acts as the blood in her own body. They become nothing but moving shapes, part of a quota J insists on, but, more than that, a mission, a game, a challenge, something to keep her mind on.

Then along comes that weird, short little worker that keeps bothering them, planting dangerous ideas in N’s head, who speaks with a snarky voice, with a bright purple visor and matching purple wig. The ‘sad purple one’, ‘that purple thing’. Not a person, not someone to connect with, prey she’s not allowed to kill. She sees nothing more than that, blurred purple hues, a bothersome nature, and more than that, the threat she represents and that she has been trying so hard to stay away from.

So what if this is the first real friend N has had in.. how long has it been now, that V has pretended to not know him, to ignore him, to shut him down? So what if she’s a worker drone, her own person, a fiercely, OBNOXIOUSLY, spirited one at that, despite everything she’s been convincing herself of for years? She’s still something to kill, in the end. Don’t think too hard about it. Don’t turn the extra eyes back on in quiet moments, don’t study their faces in detail, in real clarity, don’t notice the genuine happiness and contentment on N’s face, don’t notice with how much enthusiasm Uzi speaks of some outrageously edgy plan. Don’t think about what she’s missing, what she’s purposely kept from him and herself.

I suppose one can only ignore what you don’t want to acknowledge for so long, though. She ends up with glasses again in the end, and acts with a precision there we never really see again. Loses them instantly, too, but regardless. Get this girl some glasses or prescription goggles or something lol

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart Chapter 22

18+ MDNI on Ao3 All chapters

I'm still writing chapters for my other works, I've just been in a yandere-y mood lately.

Thatch POV

Being so cruel to you had nearly broken Thatch’s heart. It had taken everything in him not to console you after you started crying in the mess hall. He felt even worse for force feeding you, he could tell you weren’t going to eat the moment you’d walked into the mess hall. But you needed to be reminded of who made the rules and who followed them. He’d only given you what you asked for and you couldn’t handle it. True, he knew you meant that you wanted to sit on your own chair, but he wasn’t going to let that happen. Not when it was one of the brightest parts of his day, something he got to look forward to multiple times a day. You were steadily gaining a bit of weight with him, which had brought a glow of health to your visage. He couldn’t have you undoing all his progress. 

It just so happened that the bi-monthly Commanders’ meeting was this afternoon. He’d let Marco know that they needed an extra few minutes between them afterwards as well. Ace was still sailing back to the Moby so they would appraise him of the situation later. Ace was a good third to have, he just needed a little guidance from his brothers. He was so much younger than them, after all. Ace had been with them sexually for a while now, but he really was more of a switch rather than a true submissive. Having you with the three of them rounded out the relationship, helping them all to feel more fulfilled. Marco and Thatch were trying to show him by example how to handle you, with correction and punishment needed only occasionally. He’d met you first, so by rights you were his, but it was always better when good fortune was shared among siblings.  

Thatch settled in for the long meeting, looking over the agenda. He needed to pay attention, but the only thing he could think about were the tears that had run down your face and your shoulders slumped in submission. He wanted to find you and discipline you now, he didn’t like to delay the punishments and build anticipation like Marco did. He wanted to punish and soothe you, bringing you back to him with love. Unluckily for you, their attendance at the meeting was mandatory so you’d have to wait until it was over. Thatch sighed and tried to concentrate on Blenheim, who was running the meeting, without much success. It would be a long few hours.

~~~

Once the neverending meeting was finally over, Marco plopped himself down next to Thatch in the meeting room. All the other Commanders were filling out, but they had a lot to discuss. Thatch wanted to fill Marco in about breakfast and recap the situation from your panic attack. 

“Has Pops asked you about grandkids yoi?” Marco began, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.

“Yeah, so embarrassing. He asked me yesterday.” In that way, Oyaji really was more like their father than their captain.  

“He’s not going to stop, he’s gotten it into his head that he needs a grandchild before he dies,” Marco complained.

“I wouldn’t be opposed,” Thatch said slowly, “but I don’t think now’s a good time. She’s not quite stable yet. And she’s still underweight.” 

“True. We need to wait until she regains her regular menstrual cycle and puts on more weight. I also want to see her sleep improve more. Then we can see about some fertility drugs. Might speed up the process and get Pops off our backs,” Marco mused. 

“Well, about her weight, there was an incident this morning I wanted to talk to you about…” Thatch told a very interested Marco about your small attempt at independence this morning. The more he described your disobedience, the more Marco smiled. 

Y/N POV

Every instinct inside you told you to run and hide so no one could find you. But you knew that was a bad idea and would only make Marco and Thatch angrier than they already were. Thatch for the breakfast incident, and Marco for the infirmary incident. You were honestly scared to meet up with either one of them, but you knew it was going to happen one way or another. You ended up holed up in one of the crow’s nests, putting some finishing touches on the nurse uniform redesign you’d been working on. It was slow going because every time your mind drifted from the designs you thought about the punishment that was looming over your head. You had barely gotten any work done when Deuce came up the crow’s nest ladder.

“Ah, hello. Time for lunch,” Deuce said awkwardly, fiddling with his jacket cuff.

“What - Why are you here?” You hoped you weren’t being rude, you were just puzzled why Deuce of all people was bringing you to lunch.

“Marco told me to come get you to eat. The Commanders are all in a meeting and you need dietary supervision,” he said shrugging. You paled thinking about the meeting Thatch had mentioned.

“Ok, I’ll come down,” you said, grabbing your things. You had been nervous for lunch with Thatch but had also been hoping to talk to him or try to get him into a better mood. You didn’t think you could avoid punishment altogether but you thought you might be able to mitigate it if you showed him how much you appreciated him. You came down the ladder and followed Deuce to the private dining room. He’d already brought the food in and took a seat opposite you at a plate of his own.

“Sorry you have to do this,” you said apologetically. You felt bad that Deuce had to work more to cover up for your mistakes.

“I don’t mind. At least it’s quiet in here, which is a nice change of pace.” Deuce began eating and you tried to as well. You picked at your food, attempting to eat some of it. Your stomach was in knots and you didn’t think you could keep much down. You moved the food around your plate, waiting for Deuce to finish eating so you could leave. Once he’d eaten his fill, he brought out a small notebook and pen. He glanced over at your plate and made a few notes.

“You’re not going to regain any weight if you don’t eat more,” Deuce reminded you. He finished writing and put the notebook and pen away.

“Are you reporting this back to Thatch?” you asked worriedly.

“Yes. And Marco,” Deuce supplied neutrally, gathering the dirty plates. He didn’t know the implications of what he had just told you, but you felt like there was a weight bearing down on your neck. Now they’d know you hadn’t eaten lunch either, just proving Thatch right yet again. You laid your head in your hands. You didn’t know what to do to alleviate the tension radiating from within you. You felt a hand clap onto your shoulder, and looked up to see Deuce giving you a supportive smile.

“I know they can seem scary, but they’re actually quite kind once you get to know them. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you.” Deuce left, taking the plates with him. Oh, how wrong he was.

~~~ 

After lunch you were a bundle of nerves and you couldn’t focus. You spent hours of your time pacing the deck, trying to calm down. You were picking at your skin, your fingers, and biting your lips. You tried to stop but as soon as you weren’t actively thinking about it to prevent yourself, you started again. You knew Marco and Thatch would be upset you’d been picking at your skin. You wanted to ask for help but Marco and Thatch were busy and mad and you were worried and stressed and your stomach hurt and and and

And you felt someone hug you from behind, putting their chin on the top of your head. You detected the smell of a match after it had been extinguished. You leaned your head back and saw shaggy black hair and a smattering of freckles smiling at you from behind.

“Ace!” you exclaimed. You were truly happy to see him. You spun to face him and hugged him tight. 

“When did you get back?” you asked into his chest, not releasing him from your hug. 

“A couple of hours ago, I had a few things to do before I saw ya.” You squeezed him tighter.

“Whoa there tiger, what’s going on?” Ace pried you off of him, looking you over. You wilted under his gaze.

“What’s got you so shook up?” Ace asked with concern, pulling you to the side of the deck. He stood opposite you but kept his arms around your waist.

“I messed up and Thatch and Marco are mad at me and are going to punish me and I’m -I’m scared.” You said it all in a rush while looking out at the water, eyes filling with tears but trying not to cry. You had been anxious all afternoon and it was coming to a head. Ace sat down cross legged on the deck, pulling you into his lap with him. 

“You broke the rules?” Ace asked you softly. You nodded and Ace rubbed your arms.

“You don’t have to be afraid, it will be OK. We’re never going to hurt you. Once the punishment is over, it’s all in the past. It’s a way to show we care about you. I’ve been in trouble lots of times and I’ve always been fine. Besides, isn’t it a little fun to be punished?” Ace remarked with a twinkle in his eye. Thinking about the last time you saw Ace getting punished sent shivers down your spine. You didn’t think you could handle anything close to what he had and you definitely didn’t think it was fun. You’d been loved by other people in your past and had never experienced anything like this situation before. You didn’t think love needed punishments, but maybe relationships with pirates were different. 

“I’m sorry this is your welcome home, Ace. Sorry I couldn’t be good.” You hung your head. He didn’t reply to your comment, but his expression faltered.

“Come with me, they sent me to get you.” Ace stood up, giving you his hand. You took it and he hauled you to your feet. You hoped he wasn’t mad at you too.

“Nothing really bad will ever happen to you here,” Ace replied. “We love you and are going to keep you safe, no matter what. You’ll see.” You appreciated the sentiment but the closer you got to the stairs the more the sense of foreboding grew within you. Ace led you by the hand to the Commander’s meeting room and herded you to the door. 

“I’m not staying. I have a lot to catch up on, but I’ll see you later.” Ace kissed the top of your head and pushed you into the room gently, shutting the door behind you. Thatch and Marco were already seated, stern expressions on their faces. You didn’t see another seat available, there was just a cushion on the floor, so you stood. It reminded you of the first meeting you’d all had together where you’d gotten your first set of rules. You fidgeted in place waiting for someone to start talking, squirming more the longer the silence dragged on.  

“Sit yoi,” Marco said firmly. You spotted another chair from the edge of the room and started to walk towards it.

“No, on the floor.” On the cushion? Like a dog? You swallowed your pride and sat on your heels like Marco told you while your face heated. You felt too embarrassed to speak or look up from your seated position. You felt like you were on trial, or at the center of an interrogation.

“We have a number of things to discuss, yoi. Let’s begin with what happened the other day on the Moby Jr.” Marco didn’t sound upset or angry, just serious. 

“I’m sorry, Marco. I didn’t mean for it to happen.” You preemptively began with your apology, knowing it was going to have to come anyway.

“Why are you sorry?” Marco inquired in a neutral tone. You looked up at him with a slightly furrowed brow. He had read the report right? Maybe he just wanted you to explain it point by point so you knew how badly you messed up. You played with the hem of the pillow by your feet, pulling at a loose thread.

“Because I freaked out and um, hurt myself, and um, it happened a second time, and I um, couldn’t work the next day. I didn’t mean to make you angry.” You hoped he didn’t want more details on the freaking out, it was kind of difficult for you to remember a lot of what happened. You were pinching your fingers with your nails from nervousness. Marco exchanged a look with Thatch. 

“Why would I be angry at you for that yoi?” 

“Um, because I was bad? And, um, b-broke the rules?” You looked down at the floor, ashamed of yourself. 

“Look at me,” Marco said softly. You brought your eyes up to meet his. “None of what happened on the Moby Jr. or afterwards was your fault. You weren’t bad yoi. We just need to talk about it.” You felt lost - you really wished you were sitting in Marco’s lap and getting some physical reassurance from him but it didn’t feel like the time to ask. 

“Obviously, you were unable to control your reaction to whatever was happening yoi,” Marco said frowning. “Has anything like that ever happened before?” You nodded, it had happened a few times since you’d been off the Marine ship but you’d hidden it from the Brothers. It was easier then, you did your own thing with no supervision.

“It’s just something else you need help with. And of course we’re going to help you yoi. You know there’s no one else in the world who cares about you like we do.” You nodded, meeting Marco’s intense gaze. You knew they cared about you and had brought you to the ship when you didn’t have any other options. 

“I know. Thank you, Marco.” You felt a little better that Marco wasn’t upset at you for the infirmary incident.

“Which is why your behavior this morning was so disappointing,” Thatch stated bitterly. You immediately deflated and curled into yourself, bringing your knees to your chest. You had been feeling better momentarily but now you felt like the air had left the room. 

“You’re lucky we love you so much, Querida . We’ve thrown people off the ship for less.” Marco threw Thatch an unamused look.

“I’m wondering if you misunderstood our discussion last night yoi. We talked about how you need to learn to ask for help. Not about getting what you think you want.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes but you didn’t allow them to fall. 

“It’s surprising to me that you could be so disrespectful to Thatch after he helped you and took such good care of you when you were incapable.” Marco said with a contempt. You felt small and in the spotlight, like a bug pinned down on a card.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, tears now tracking down your cheeks.

“So you say,” Marco remarked dismissively, “but you’re going to need to show it yoi.”

“H-how?” Your hands shook thinking about whatever they’d come up with for your punishment. Your heart was racing with the anticipation.

“You’re going to have to show that you actually want us to help you yoi. We’re not making you do anything - this was your idea to show that we can trust you, that you can remain with us on the ship, remember? If you don’t want our help, that’s fine yoi. You're always free to leave.”

“N-no, Marco, please, please I - I still want your help,” you sputtered out. You remembered the initial discussion with Marco the night he caught you in the closet but the details were a little fuzzy. Had it been your idea?

“Good. I’m glad you agree. Come here,” Marco said, motioning you over to him. You got up on wobbly legs and slowly moved to stand in front of his chair. 

“Over my lap,” he said, guiding you. You laid down across Marco’s muscled thighs, your ass hiked in the air. Your torso was laying across the armrest of the chair, keeping you mostly level. Marco wound his arm around your waist, keeping you pinned in place. Marco lowered your pants and panties until you were completely bared. His large hand started caressing and rubbing your ass cheeks. 

“If you want our help, you have to allow us to help you. You need to let us take over. That makes sense, right, yoi?” Marco said while massaging you. 

“Yes, Marco.” Marco stopped massaging for a moment to reach for something out of your line of sight. He was doing something but you couldn’t make out what.

“Do you know what happens to bad little doves?” Marco asked calmly, still manipulating something you couldn’t see.

“N-no, Marco.” 

“They get fucked in the ass.” You tried to jolt up but his arm kept you in place. You felt something cold being put onto your puckered entrance.

“Wait - no, I - Marco, please -” you weakly tried to get up but knew you were no match for his strength. 

“Shhh. Not right now, you’re not ready yet. We’re just preparing you.” Marco spoke to you in low tones, trying to calm you. He continued to rub and started pushing something hard and large into your hole. It felt like an intrusion and you didn’t want it in. You tried to stop it from being put in you, but Marco wasn’t relenting.

“Ah, ah, Dove. Show us you can let us in. Show us you can be good and accept your punishment. It’s not a large plug, it will fit. You'll learn to like it.” He continued to push the plug deeper.

You tried to turn your head to watch him but Thatch came and stood in front of you. He crouched down so his face was level with yours. Putting his hand on your cheek, he looked at you downhearted.

“Is it true Mami? You’re sorry you were so disrespectful to me this morning?” It was difficult for you to answer, Marco was still driving the plug deeper into you, stretching your hole. The plug was tapered and you could feel it getting larger with each push from Marco.

“Yes, Thatch. I’m ah -I’m sorry. I won’t - aah - I won’t do it again.” You felt the plug narrow and the flared base flush against your skin. Marco was gently grinding it into you.

“See? What a good dove you can be yoi,” Marco said. “You’re keeping it in until you’re told otherwise. I’ll know if you don’t.” You shivered - you didn’t doubt he would be able to tell. Now that the plug was in, Marco was toying with it, twisting it and moving it. You didn’t enjoy the sensations but it didn’t hurt.  Marco started moving the fingers of his other hand down into your slit. 

“Feel this, Thatch. She’s soaking wet yoi.” The chef reached over you to run his fingers through your folds as well. Thatch took his time and started running his fingers lightly over your clit. You squirmed from the sensation of being so full and teased.

“Absolutely drenched. Maybe this isn’t such a punishment for her.” It was humiliating for them to talk about you like you weren’t there, like you were just an object to play with. 

“Show Thatch you love him,” Marco rasped. “Show him you’re thankful he took care of you.” Marco sat you upright on his lap while Thatch stood up and undid his pants. Sitting up meant the plug was pressing into you, making you whimper. Marco put one of his hands on your jaw and squeezed, holding your mouth open. Thatch slid his erect cock into your mouth, all the way to the back.

“ Ahh I needed this,” Thatch sighed as he drove himself forward, “remember, Mami, I need you like you need me. No one will ever love you like we do.” Thatch’s hands had a hold of your head, keeping you in pace with his desire. One of Marco’s hands had snaked up your shirt and was rolling your nipple between his fingers while he kissed the back of your neck. His other hand was playing with your clit while Thatch was fucking your mouth, gagging you on his thick cock. You could barely breathe, tears were streaming down your face as Thatch forced himself deeper and deeper into your throat. You started to see stars in your vision and tried to pull back but Marco was behind you, keeping you where they wanted. Every time you moved, the plug in your ass did too, causing you to shift in discomfort. It was so much you couldn’t focus on any one thing happening to you. You felt an orgasm building within you to your dismay.

“If you want to come, you need to ask for permission,” Marco ordered, increasing the tempo of his rubbing. You whined but couldn’t talk with Thatch’s dick deep in your mouth. Marco didn’t provide you with any solutions, just continued to stimulate you.

““T-that’s it nnf t-t ake my cock, take all of it. Show me you’re mine,” Thatch gritted out. He was close and was pumping into you furiously. You were gagging but he didn’t stop. He came with a groan, gripping your hair tightly, and you felt him come down your throat. Marco stopped his movements once Thatch did, denying your orgasm.

“Swallow it,” Thatch ordered. You were panting and getting your breath back but did as he told you. “Show me,” he said, hand in your hair tugging your head up. You dutifully opened your now empty mouth. Thatch smiled radiantly down at you.

“Too bad you didn’t get to come, yoi.” Marco said slyly, lifting you off his lap. The plug remained firmly nestled within you to your dismay.

“See, Mami? Everything is wonderful again. Come, let’s go eat dinner together. I know you haven’t eaten today. There’s a party tonight to celebrate Ace and Marco’s successful mission and I want you to eat beforehand.” Thatch was all smiles as you reached for your clothes that were bunched around your ankles. You were glad he was happy and no longer angry with you. Ace was right, everything seemed to be forgiven.

“Oh, one last thing yoi,” Marco noted in a casual tone, “you aren’t allowed to wear panties. I need to be able to quickly check that you’re following the rules. You will wear dresses from now on.” Your head was spinning - there were so many new rules you had to follow. How were you supposed to remember everything? Dresses didn’t really fit with the kind of work you did, but you didn’t think you could complain, especially now that they weren’t mad anymore. You’d stand out even more than you already did on the ship, which wasn’t a pleasant thought. Maybe this would just be temporary.

Marco handed you a coral colored dress you hadn’t noticed before. You took the dress in your hands and stood for a few moments, thinking. How long had this been planned? But you were uncomfortable, tired, and actually hungry so you quickly changed into the dress. At least your back was covered for the party.

[mentallyshattered]

This is part 3 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"Myaah, keep going!"

"Non, chat. You no longer need to be brushed. Vil, how is Yuu's hair coming along?"

Vil sighs. I've noticed he does that a lot. "Not as well as I thought, Rook. Even though the top layer was absurdly thick, the lower layers don't look much better. This is going to take longer than I expected."

I look up and into the mirror in front of me. Vil has cut my hair short, but the process of detangling the remaining mat of hair has caused the detangled hair to be noticeably longer than what's still a total mess. I'd say the hair he's worked through is about 4 inches, just long enough to cover my ears.

"Say, Monseur Mystery, how did you guess Monseur Chat's name?"

"Well..." I hesitate. Even now, the thoughts of his death still hurt. "When I was living in my world, I found a cat. He was my only friend. He was an alley cat, but chubby- not in a concerning or limiting way, just in a cute way- and he was grey with a large patch of white fur on his front, and his tail faded into black at the end, and... he had polydactly. I think that's what it's called, at least. Do you guys know what that is?"

"Nope!" Grim's reply is cheerful, like an island of comfort in a sea of mourning.

"Well, it's a condition where your limbs split off into multiple limbs. So, a two-tipped finger or extra toe or something. Well, my cat had it on the end of his tail. It looked, " I pause, reaching my hand toward Grim and trying, failing, to hold back tears. "Into three. A trident tail, just like this." I'm holding his tail in my hand now, careful, like he might break just as my voice is doing now. I can hardly speak through the lump in my throat, but I can speak.

"A-and that cat's name was Grim. And he was hit by a car when he was eight, and I've never been the same." I'm crying now, my eyes reduced to floodgates and my voice to a wreck. Vil is hugging me, his arms bringing some sense of safe to me, but that sense of safe pales in comparison to the comfort of holding Grim in my arms. His fur is soft, much softer now that he's been brushed, and Rook has joined the hug.

We stay there, just like that, for what feels like forever. Vil's arms are strong around me, as are Rook's, and I'm holding Grim again, and I don't want to lose him again. I can't. I barely survived the first time; I can't survive a second. The guilt would kill me.

"I guessed his name, too. I didn't know how. It just felt right. But... Yuu, you kind of remind me of someone. Another human. He fed me in my dreams, and his name was Yuu, and we were great friends, but one day he just stopped showing up. I never saw him again." Grim's previously sad face brightens a little, like a tea candle with just enough air to burn. "You look a lot like him, but older. Maybe... maybe he was you."

The tears come back. I let them. This time, they're happy tears, and Grim is crying them, too. Vil allows a few more minutes to pass, just like that, before he lets go and resumes his task of unmatting the other half of my hair. Rook pulls away, too, and waves his magic pen.

A tape measure, like you see tailors using in movies, appears in the air in front of him for him to wrap around my waist with skillful hands. Soon, he's removed the tape measure from my waist in favor of wraping it around my chest, and then my arms, and then Vil tells him off for doing something unnecessary.

I laugh. "Say, Monseur Mystery, have you tried to use magic since you arrived?"

I ponder. "Not really."

Rook chuckles. "Facinating."

"Are you okay with others being let into the room, Yuu?" Vil's voice is soft and soothing. I'm a little jealous, but who cares?

"Go right ahead." The lump in my throat is gone now that Grim is purring happily in my arms, just enjoying the sensation of being pet. Rook leaves the room- still holding his tape measure, I notice- and the door shuts behind him. Surprisingly, I don't hear his footsteps as he walks away, even before the door is closed and blocking my view.

Less than a minute later, the door opens again, revealing Rook, Korrak, and Korrak's familiar, whose name I do not yet know. Rook waves his pen, cleaning the cat brush with magic, and starts brushing the strange oppossum as he brushed Grim.

"Hey, what's your name? I'm Grim!"

"Call me Mandible."

Well, I guess I have a name to go with both of my roommates now. Unlike Grim, Mandible needs only a few minutes of brushing before his fur is even and soft, at which point Rook measures him, waves his pen, and voilá: five small stacks of clothing appear on the counter.

"What are those?" Mandible is already poking at the piles by the time he thinks to ask. I wasn't expecting Mandible to be more talkative than Korrak, but I guess Grim and I are no better.

"Uniforms! The white one is a lab coat for alchemy, the violet one is a dorm uniform, the one next to the lab coat is a PE uniform, the one next to the dorm uniform is a school uniform, and the one in between the dorm clothes and lab coat are some ceremonial robes. All are sized exactly for Monseur Opossum, of course." Rook looks quite proud of himself.

"Myaah, neato! Do I get some?"

"But of course, Monseur Chat! If you'll allow me a moment..." Rook starts measuring Grim just like he did with Mandible, and Vil lets out a triumphant "Hah!"

"Finally conquered my hair?"

"Not entirely, but I'm done with the hard part." With this, Vil pulls out a brush- not a cat brush, just a regular human brush- and starts running it through my hair in a soothing rhythm. Tired from the short day's events, I allow it to lull me to sleep.

[tarttheart]

PRECIOUS LOVE CHAPTER 10: JAMIE TARTT x YOU

summary: you finally make some progress.

word count: 960 words

warnings: language

-

chapter 10: to be a better man

It took three days for you to think that maybe you deserved better. It started with Michael pulling you into a big hug when you told him you did not think it was going to work out. He went on to reassure you that there was a long line of fit footballers you could choose from because you were, in his words, “fit as fuck”. Then, the multiple messages from Rebecca and Keeley reminding you that you were brave and amazing. Finally, there were the flowers from the De Bryunes as a little cherry on top with a strongly worded reminder about what a wonderful person you were after you messaged Kevin and Michele a sincere and heartfelt apology for being so unavailable.

So, you decided it was time to properly invest in getting better. You had had enough of a go on your own without professional help and it had gotten you nowhere. Sure, you had travelled heaps around the various regions you had been assigned to while away and done some self-care as you had initially grieved. That had been great but then, hyperfocusing on work thereafter had definitely been counterproductive. While it was great that you finally had some semblance of a social life now, calling it progress was a bit of a stretch given you had been processing for four years albeit somewhat half-heartedly.

Seeing Dr Sharon was hard. There was a lot she had needed to set right in the initial sessions. There were a lot of tears and days spent holed up at home trying to grapple with all that had come to pass. But, as the sessions wore on, you could feel some light coming back into your life and the light at the end of a very long, very dark tunnel.

Slowly, you allowed yourself to be around more things football-related. First, it was Nelson Road for an actual in-person appointment with Dr Sharon. Dr Sharon suggested it and you were not about to shy away from the challenge after making as much progress as you had. Although you had spent the better part of 15 minutes hyperventilating outside before stepping foot into the facility, what mattered was you did. Sessions expanded to having lunch and drinks with Keeley and Rebecca in Rebecca’s office. Sure, part of the reason you had had lunch with Rebecca the first time was because you had heard ruckus in the locker room and seen players streaming out as you had started down the stairs so you had retreated to Rebecca’s office for safety. Yes, it might have been rooted in fear initially but being able to be at Nelson Road was progress in itself.

Then, you started attending games with Rebecca and Keeley. The first time, Richmond were playing Aston Villa away and you happened to be in Birmingham to visit a client. Given the meeting was scheduled for a Friday, you had decided to extend your trip to Sunday to give yourself a little bit of breathing room between train journeys. But, that was where the breathing room ended. The other director had taken to you and decided to make a weekend out of it with you as their unwilling partner (something about a bad breakup and ideal girls’ trip).

You: HELP PLEASE. She was chatting to me from outside the cubicle.

Rebecca: Oh god.

Keeley: don’t hate me babes but

Keeley: what about coming to the game?

You: can I sit in the back and scroll through IG the entire time?

You: you know what, doesn’t matter. She is trying to book us in for costume karaoke. I’m in.

You had originally said you would sit in the back and ignore everything going on but were quickly sucked into the spirit of it all. How could you not? It was an exciting one with Richmond kicking a goal to win it all in the last two minutes of the match. Being in and amongst it all had brought back memories, fond memories of attending Man City matches with the De Bryunes as an extra set of hands for the children. You realised in that moment that football was not as painful a memory as you had thought it would be now. So, when the next opportunity arose to join Rebecca and Keeley in the box, you took it and you remembered that look of pride the two had as they pulled you in for a hug when you had agreed.

Taking the step to actually joining in the team celebrations and being around the team took a little more. You had started making regular appearances around Nelson Road and at matches, enough to spark speculations amongst players about your identity. Did Keeley have a new investor? Maybe Rebecca’s personal lawyer?

Jamie sat in the locker room, overcome by a weird feeling of almost deja vu after catching glimpses of you in the hallways. He always managed to dodge you before you caught sight of him, thanks to the recent agility training he had been keeping up but seeing you stirred something within him nonetheless. He remembered the way you laughed and squealed whenever they won. He remembered the way you always hugged him when he needed it. He remembered how you would give him a thumbs up whenever he looked mad about something and how it made his frustrations disappear if only for a second.

“Oh, that’s who you’re talking about. Guess she must know Keeley and Rebecca too but she’s neither an investor nor a lawyer. She works with Michael,” Colin explained one day.

“Whatever her name is, she seems like a good bottle of Nebbiolo. Elegant, understated, well-liked and very, very good.”

Fuck Richard and his perfect fucking analogy, Jamie thought to himself.

-

< chapter 9 | master list | chapter 11 >

[hekateinhell]

Tell me abt preggers armand please. I have a fic im working on and need 2 hear other peoples opinions on this topic 😈

🥹🥹🥹

okay so first of all i'm so upset i didn't see this ask until i checked my askbox on my phone which i almost NEVER do anymore since i'm getting old and prefer to just answer things via laptop where i can keyboard smash at full capacity raw and unfiltered but like MY DMS ARE OPEN I'M NOT ALWAYS THE FASTEST RESPONDER BECAUSE I'M IN GRAD SCHOOL AND LIFE AND WHATEVER BUT I DON'T TRUST TUMBLR ANYMORE BECAUSE I DIDN'T SEE THIS UNTIL YESTERDAY ON DESKTOP TUMBLR PLS DON'T DEPRIVE ME OF MY PEOPLE

now that that's out of the way:

it depends! you have to be more specific, like are we talking vampires? human AU? BECAUSE I'VE GOT SOMETHING FOR EACH

canon verse/vampire:

don't ask me to explain the science or whatever lol i don't care, i just skip to the pregnancy part!

i think armand would be SO FUCKING FERAL and defensive, like he's lost so much and been so traumatized in so many ways, the idea of anything happening to his baby would have him in full gremlin mode. imagine a feral cat hissing and spitting and clawing and biting (not for food but for violence)!

on the other hand, he'd be obsessively bonded to his baby daddy (daddies, if there's multiple babies). he is not letting them out of his sight (i default to lestat here LMAO listen i want them to knock each other up so bad--separate universes obviously)

HE WOULD NEST SO FUCKING HARD!!! i was going to say i apologize for my brain but then i realized that i don't actually but i want him to nest on a pile of lestat's clothes and give birth right there like a fucking cat 🥹

ALTERNATIVELY THOUGH: i also had this idea that's like louis impregnates lestat and armand at the same time and they get to go through their pregnancies together and it's every bit as horny, hellish, and sweet as you'd imagine 🫶🏻 i've said it before and i'll say it again--lestat would be the WORST pregnant person ever dead or alive!!

now for human AUs:

i guess my thoughts here primarily but not exclusively exist within the same universe as I Feel You (sorry idk if you read that fic but tl;dr- IT'S PWP OF TRANS!ARMAND 2/3RDS OF THE WAY INTO GETTING A TRAIN RUN ON HIM BY HIS BOYFRIENDS LESTAT, LOUIS, AND DANIEL AND HE'S YOUNG DUMB AND FULL OF CUM SO YOU KNOW IT'S JUST A MATTER OF TIME BEFORE HE'S GOTTA PEE ON A STICK RIP BOYS)

i think each of his boyfriends would handle the whole thing differently! lestat would be so over the moon because he's careless (clearly) but also so damaged from his own childhood he would just see it as a chance for a do-over, reality and responsibility be damned. lestat's on sex and backrub duty, and he's good at it (the backrubs i mean, sex is a 50/50 but you know what, at least he's enthusiastic and good at manhandling armand so that's 70% of it right now and the 30% is absolutely ridiculous horny pregnancy hormones)

louis panics internally as he immediately starts creating a spreadsheet of their finances. outwardly though, he's very calm and supportive and he's the one who's most able to comfort armand the most and settle him down during his crazy mood swings. armand basically lives in louis's baggy sweaters during the last trimester

daniel panics outwardly (listen LOL the whole premise of Our House is that human!daniel molloy is not ready for children and i find it hard to budge from that mindset, but he could ease into the Cool Uncle role quite nicely). he handles distractions and food cravings, and he might not be down to be a dad yet but he does buy very thoughtful and sentimental baby gifts every now and then that make armand tear up

i was gonna add mermaid AU thoughts but then i remembered armand's laying eggs instead (he's feral during that whole process too so i guess it's similar to the vampire version. i just love him so much okay!!!)

OH ONE LAST VERY IMPORTANT THING

pregnant!armand fics on ao3 I'M CRAZY ABOUT AND HAVE REREAD AT LEAST 10 TIMES:

shelter by @rainbowcarousels

it must be the clouds in my eyes and everything in that series by @its-ness-ness

[aranarumei]

I’d ask for a more niche haikyuu one but I am NOT updated enough to do so currently. so give me your best kagehina pitch kiri

ask me about a ship and I’ll give my opinions + classify them as does / doesn’t make sense, does / doesn’t compel me

ball 1! xicheng strike 1! todobaku. going to start this third pitch off with a swing: kagehina is niche to me. alright now that I’ve batted off all the sane people. you can join me under the cut if you’d like:

I am fully Not Joking about this one. “they almost have 20k fics in their ao3 tag” you know who actually has over 20k? iwaizumi and oikawa (listen i like both of them but like. this is not correlating well to screentime lmao). sure, sure, kagehina is like. obvious. it’s the two main characters. but idk kinda says something that they don’t even have the most fics in the haikyuu tag. I'm not saying they have to be more popular. oh wait also yeah it does make sense it does compel me. of course it does. but anyways. I think Kageyama and Hinata is like… so obvious, so clearly part of the lifeblood of haikyuu!!, that it gets misunderstood? I was in the haikyuu trenches okay. I lived through the worst kuroo mischaracterizations of my life. kagehina so often got boxed into like. grumpy guy / sunshine boy or like. light / dark or sun / moon (the DISRESPECT paid to tsukishima. this was actually a bit rarer thanks to him tho. thank you sir). and it’s just like. I don’t know. not exactly it for me?

like. to me, kageyama and hinata are the craziest rivals/teammates ever. two people who are each other’s lighter to their gasoline. they will instigate each other to the top of the world. there’s not a moment where these two aren’t challenging each other towards the top of the world, and it’s impossible for that to exist without this deep adoration and respect. from their very first match, back when so many people are ready to dismiss him as nothing, kageyama, as a prideful middle schooler, is cognizant enough to grab him and ask, what have you been doing for the last years? kageyama’s mad because he thinks hinata’s good. it’s the kind of anger that exists because of desire. even from that first moment, there’s this wicked assurance and trust that resonates between the two of them—the beginnings of this soul-shaking belief in the other.

hinata and kageyama might clash a lot, but they so deeply know how serious the other person is. when kageyama’s holding back during the training camp hinata yells at him immediately. It makes perfect sense to me that it’s hinata who initiates a “re-crowning” of kageyama as king of the court. He’ll look at that idea of a tyrant and say, so what? that’s cool. push me. and it works because he’ll give as good as he gets. kageyama needs someone who’ll fight him without running away. Someone who’ll communicate with him and treat him like they’re on the same level. Hinata is that and more. He doesn’t run away, he runs forward, to the point that he pushes him up with him. they can’t get enough of each other. they spend three years as a team and don’t ever stop competing.

you have to understand I like. tear up when I think about them. they’re this burning blazing core of haikyuu to me. that’s a manga about love and passion and they ARE love & passion. they move me. if you distilled pure verve into two people… kageyama might look outwardly calm but he’s just as much of a dumbass as hinata. they talk about how kagehina’s not like adding two demons together, but rather a process of multiplication, and I wholeheartedly endorse this. they’re also dumbass x dumbass. and I don’t mean to belittle them because they’ve absolutely got this raw volleyball-intelligence, but I say dumbass to explain not just their academics but their pure singlemindedness.

there’s this one moment that’s always stuck with me where hinata’s caught sick during a match, right before the timeskip hits, and kageyama’s like, I should’ve known you were sick, your hands were burning up when we high-fived, which is so… they pay attention to each other! they might be blunt or insensitive but the fact is they know each other and they can’t deny how well they work together. your greatest rival is your greatest ally. I mean. that’s romance to me. sure you could ship hinata or kageyama with someone else. but I don’t think you can take them out of each other’s propelling orbit. and it’s not just a sports thing. partially because. not to crack jokes but (volley)ball is life to them. they breathe that passion in a way… you can’t untangle them from it. but like we do see them genuinely connecting and getting along and caring for each other on a personal level, too. I dunno what else to say. just… look at them, yknow?

when I see them it’s like sparks fly and something comes alive. not sure that feeling will ever go away. it’s like I’m mirroring their conviction.

[rametarin]

silly WH40K inspired idea.

It's the year XXX in the future. A cabal of people exist that take up a paladin-esque role with elements of cowboyism and monastic trappings.

As part of the graduation, the prospective member of the order is provided the hand tools necessary to construct their own firearm. They must design it on paper and utilize simulator technology to prove the design is safe and capable of withstanding the brutalities associated with its own existence. Unwise decisions that result in the operator's self-harm or destruction of the firearm are possible, and politely discouraged.

But every member of the group effectively needs to be capable of being an engineer and gunsmith, able to turn raw ingredient metals into components for firearms and ammunition. The organization supplies the education necessary, and at least information on how to hand make the tools to make firearms, but it's ultimately up to the prospective gunsmith to smith them.

There'd also be an organization standard for firearm blueprints and ammunition size and case style. Exactly what, I don't know, but the organization's emphasis is on being able to make that exact kind of firearm almost anywhere on planet earth from locally available rocks, sunlight and parabolic mirrors (for the heat) and component molds.

There'd be a trial to just make Whatever Was Necessary to fire a bullet at a target to a minimum small arms range, and then exceptional marks are made for ranges exceeding the length of the curvature of the earth, and a separate trial to be able to make an Organization Standard Performance Rifle, out of materials ideal for that (assuming care would be taken to acquire the necessary materials, not just scrap together something that just has to survive firing a bullet once.)

Reason being is the continued education in the traditions of the personal firearm, as well as other force multiplier forms of weaponry, and the continued fabrication of such when you have a minimum of material components to work with. And yes, the implication such materials might be being bottlenecked and withheld from the public is not an accident, but the organization's trials and system assumes as much, that simple trade and procurement may not be possible or legal.

That's the lowest level member. Being able to make your own small arms is the minimum base requirements for initiation. Above those are the Large Arms makers. Kinetic weapons that are just really big guns that may or may not require multiple people to man. This includes everything from mortars, to howitzers, to artillery, to anti-air gun batteries. Whom similarly operate under the idea that the only way these things might exist in an area, is if they know how to personally manufacture and fabricate each and every component themselves.

Perhaps they have some process to work backwards and marry carbon with hydrogen to create propellants. Perhaps they eschew "messy" forms of propellants and use some custom material that is effectively just hydrogen, for light gas guns. That'd be neat. I'm not 100% sure. But I do know as the component of a kinetic weapon, it'd be another part of the manufacturing process of your own gun and ammunition.

Why light gas guns, specifically? Because when you use hydrogen as a propellant, it burns cooler (temperature-wise, I don't mean, 'that's cool/awesome') and has greater impulse. A person so inclined could literally fire a payload and escape the earth's orbit with it, while conventional propellants cannot do this. Hydrogen gas or liquid as a propulsion system means very very fast projectiles that can conceivably move so fast that they tear themselves apart in the atmosphere. When you need to fire something screaming and generating its own plasma out into space from the ground, but you can't use a railgun, you go to the Light Gas Gun guys.

Above them would be the Electropropulsion Systems. Yes, I'm talking railguns and coil guns. Due to the sheer complexity and investment in materials required for the magnets and armatures, considered somewhat impractical, but when you need absurd range and power and want a simpler propulsion system, you go to the coil and rail guys. A big advantage of these sorts of drive systems would be it's simply less high profile than components to create or transport hydrogen gas than it is electronic components.

And above them, would be the realm of computer scientists and electricians, because now the order gets into rockets and guided self-propelled projectiles. Requiring the organization's resources and manpower, they still standardize fabrication units to make the exact specified digital computer components needed to create missiles with the topological data and inertial drives to tell exactly where they are on earth at any given moment of time, and where they should be. No more computing power than is necessary to go as far as a missile of their size with the fuel that offers the greatest possible range to chemical science and physics and get it from where it's fired to where it needs to be. They do not rely on satellites (though the option may exist), they hard insulate the self-propelled projectiles against radio interference, give them a very detailed map and send them on their way.

Sitting atop the heap are the engineers and electricians and computer scientists for fire control systems for everything from large kinetic weapons like naval guns and artillery, as well as the guys behind the computers and component standards for missiles. Not just components of other specialty weapon types, but their own group in the organization, given how essential a standard and the science is for the function of other weapon types. They bear the standards on the absolute minimum material components and methods for fabricating the ideally sized and powered pieces, be they electro-mechanical, or digital. As a rule, for things that are made to resist neglect and the rigors of time, electro-mechanical things are preferred. For power and control and performance, refined and perfected digital fire control systems are ideal. Cartographers, map makers, cosmologists, everything one would need for obscenely accurate missiles ranging from lipstick tube sized to ICBMs.

And from there we get to limited robotics and machines for mobility. Terrestrial, legged or wheeled, flying, swimming. Drones. Turrets. Things that allow movement. Considered its own subset skill, it's added last only because it encompasses everything that comes before, and applies to all. That includes rockets and jets.

And, really. That's kind of all she wrote. Well, he. 'Cause, I wrote it, and I'm a cisgendered dude. Once you get to the point you've reached the end of the tech tree for chemical propulsion bullets and how to be pinpoint dead on balls accurate down to a science, once you've acquired the knowledge and resources to do the same for artillery and triangulation to within millimeters even in adverse weather conditions, once you have the capacity to make and fire hypersonic missiles capable of taking off from the ground, going around the world at LEAST once to its origin point the long way and blowing up or entering orbit and staying up there until a scheduled time or parameters dictate to change trajectory, then, well.. you kind of have every method of long range weapon figured out.

Bows, longbows and crossbows? Yeah. But they're for especially oppressive times. The science and instructions on how to make bows and strings and arrows capable of being fired over 1,000 feet. Given how one doesn't need chemical propellants or potentially brow raising amounts of metals or smithery, they're a lesser science. May even be training wheels for would-be initiates.

[iamnotawomanimagod]

What did you think of Gag Order?

Oh god, I love it.

And, as per usual, when I love something, I write a damn essay about it. The shortest version: this is going to be my album of the year. I think it's Kesha's masterpiece.

It's definitely Kesha's most mature and vulnerable album yet. It reminds me a lot of If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power by Halsey, in that they both deal with a lot of reflection, confronting their self-loathing, finding faith. But while I think IICHLIWP is ultimately Halsey's story about finding faith in love and in themself, Gag Order is about Kesha seeking answers and surrendering to something else.

It's powerful, nameless - and hard to resist wanting to follow her when she cries out for it. Some might call it "god," but I think that, while she does name-drop some religious figures, she's not really talking about any specific religion or belief system.

But I also think this album is about Kesha struggling with the darker parts of herself. Rainbow and High Road were so much about finding peace and acceptance, forgiveness and redemption. Even when she explored darker topics or her trauma, it was couched in this (probably necessary) optimism and positivity that acted as a wall between the painful truth and our perception of her. Maybe even her perception of herself.

I don't think she was willing or ready, for whatever reason, to fully leave the "Tik Tok"/"Die Young"/"Blow" party-queen of the early 2010s behind. Both Rainbow and High Road have had multiple party anthems on them, even if they were more grown up and less focused on youthful recklessness than the songs on Animal and Cannibal.

But the closest thing Gag Order has to a party/dance anthem, the kind Kesha is most known for, is "Only Love Can Save Us Now." And while it starts with a really aggressive, thumping (fun!) beat and the verses feature that iconic Kesha kinda-rap (her words, not mine,) the chorus bursts out in this incredible, gospel-esque belting chant of Kesha begging god to save her. And the music shifts from a dance/club beat to an acoustic guitar and a gospel choir arrangement.

It's so powerful, and while I go nuts to it, it definitely is a far-cry from songs like "Die Young" and "Blah Blah Blah," or even "Woman" and "Tonight."

It's not a song about partying. It's a song about surrender.

The same themes are echoed in songs like "Eat the Acid" and "Something to Believe In." Kesha was reckoning with some dark shit, and she found herself seeking something more. I don't know if she always liked what she found, or enjoyed the process.

As a result, it's also definitely Kesha's saddest album. She's had one or two sad songs on every album ("The Harold Song," "Dancing with Tears in My Eyes," "Resentment," "Father Daughter Dance," etc) but this record has at least four, depending on how you interpret them.

"Too Far Gone," "The Drama," "Living in My Head," "Fine Line," and "All I Need Is You" are all pretty sad, definitely more slow-tempo and ballad-y. And "The Drama" is the only one that ends with any sort of tongue-in-cheek humor.

That protective armor, the silly party-queen persona, is almost non-existent on this album. And as a result, this is Kesha's best work yet.

And I love party-queen Kesha, don't get me wrong!! I've loved Kesha since the beginning, I never had a moment where I didn't. I talk a lot about Halsey being the artist that changed pop music for me, but Kesha came before. There's no world where I listen to Halsey without Kesha. (God, y'all, I think I'm realizing how much she means to me writing this, lmao.)

The hopeful songs are definitely there, like "Hate Me Harder," "Happy," and "Peace and Quiet." But even those have a melancholy to them.

Sonically it's also really different. Not just the instrumentation, although that's a big part of it. It's more trance-y, industrial, kind of psychedelic, and the vocals involve more chanting and repetition. She's also using her voice in a really cool way, often more like an instrument than just a way to convey the lyrics.

The vocalizations in "Peace & Quiet" and "Living in My Head" are really novel, and I've never really heard her sing like that before. She started out singing as a yodeler, and I think people always underestimate her voice. It's stronger and more interesting than ever on this record.

I also really liked how she used the repetition of "you don't wanna be changed like it changed me" as a rhythm element in "Eat the Acid."

This album is definitely a departure from anything she's ever done, and I think it's going to have a mixed reception as a result. "Only Love Can Save Us Now," the closest thing to a party song, is already quickly becoming the most popular one on the album. A lot of them haven't even cracked 1mill plays on Spotify yet. (I'll get them there by myself dammit.)

But, if you ask me, it's a no-skip album. I think Kesha's first.

This is so long, and although I could absolutely keep going, I'll stop now. But I'll go deeper into my album ranking/what I think of each song if anyone asks, haha.

But yeah. Go listen to Gag Order. Unless you don't wanna be changed like it changed me.

[someplace-that-is-else]

'Traces of You: Part the Second'

‘So what have you been up to?’

It had been a minute since I’ve seen Hayley, one of my favorite female bartenders. We always had a great time. And good taste in music. And just like me, she was part of the San Diego hustle, running around with multiple jobs. Since she was always on the go, it was nice to see her out for a change.

Usually, we would get caught up on what was going on in our lives. We might discuss what music concerts were going on. There was also the latest bar gossip. And most importantly, I had mentioned that I was buckling down to finish up HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES.

Ah…HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES…

After making it past the point where I usually got Writer’s Block whenever I worked on my forthcoming novel, I now had a new problem. A recurring one problem that could maybe get me to a point where I stopped writing again. And what was that problem?

Mirroring.

HELLO, MY SHADOW SELF.

In my last blog (Someplace That is... Else — 'Traces of You: Part the First' (tumblr.com) ), I mentioned that I had written a plot twist for the characters of friends Shaun and Trey. And as I wrote the aftermath, the words that I found coming out of the characters’ mouths felt awfully familiar. Of course, they did. They echoed what appeared to be going on in my current life. And that…made me put the pencil down quickly.

Or as I called it above…mirroring.

Mirroring was when you were working on something. And that something just so happened to be like what was going on around you at that moment. For me, it always made me question what was going on.

This happened when I was working on DARKCHILDE. What was central to that novel was the relationship between the main character Ebony and love interest Nicholas. I felt that I’ve done a good job setting it up in DARKNED SOUL. But in the process of deepening their ‘will-they/won’t-they’ relationship in the novel, there was a scene that was totally plot that shined a light on their relationship issues.

It was in the introduction of the character Antonio. One of the oldest Nosferatu in my series. And he was also insane. And I showed, don’t tell, his insanity. From the eccentric vibe of his apartment to his appearance to his interactions between him, Nicholas, and old friend Titania and other minor characters central to the plot, the readers got to see Antonio’s insanity on full display. Part of the main plot was who was after Ebony. And Antonio tried to narrow down suspects. In his test to figure out who…he dropped some truth about Ebony and Nicholas. And those truths felt eerily familiar in terms of a relationship I was going through at the time. I immediately jumped out of the scene.

That was nothing compared to DARKENED SOUL: JONATHAN’S TALE though. Fun fact…originally JONATHAN’S TALE was going to be the main novella in my short story collection DARKENED SOUL: PIECES OF A DARKENED PUZZLE. However, it took on a life of its own.

That was part of the reason I wanted to do a story on the vibe I felt from enigmatic Jonathan in DARKENED SOUL. I had no idea how much vibe and life was there. Jonathan being a quiet lover of books. Jonathan and his relationship with his father. Jonathan’s feelings about love and Ursula. There were so many moments where I had to pause because it felt…familiar. I wondered…was this a character that I was writing…or was it me? One scene involving Jonathan and his father had me in tears…right before a work meeting. It brought up feelings I thought I had overcome with my deceased father. Guess not.

And now there I was again with HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES. It was happening again with Shaun, Trey, and the plot twist.

I managed to continue to write. That was good for me because that meant there was no Writer’s Block to worry about. It definitely gave the back half of the novel some momentum. Meanwhile, their other friends Eugene and Omar had a nice subplot going on.

BUT? HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES was supposed to be about the pitfalls of an interracial relationship. It was also about the bounds of black friendships. What I did not expect was to find my main character with not one love interest, but TWO. And given the qualities of the two guys, I found myself as indecisive as Shaun over who he should be with. Also…the qualities in the guys…was VERY familiar.

I was friends with someone. We were associates at one point. Always discussing life. We became good friends after the pandemic. Nothing like death hanging over you to make a person love the connections around them. I was no difference. He told me about his problems. And he watched me stubble through potential relationships.

And then…it got complicated.

Let’s say my friend turned out to not be immune to my charms. And I was oblivious to that fact. Until I wasn’t. It got to a point where I could no longer deal with it. Too many questions. Like how people would see us if we were to get together. Questions like was our differences even possible to manage because we both had our own beliefs that we carried around and were constantly changing. Questions like…was he worth the risk or wait?

As if seeing some of these questions being worked on with Shaun and his love interests weren’t enough, I started to notice the dialogue was getting pointed. Almost as if my characters wanted me to make up my mind about my own life. Not unlike what happened with DARKCHILDE and DARKENED SOUL: JONATHAN’S TALE.

And with all those questions whirling around in my head, it came as no surprise when it happened.

I couldn’t finish my novel. Shaun couldn’t pick between his love interests. And I…couldn’t decide on the ending.

Stuck.

THE CHOICE

Another day, another appearance at Lestat’s.

I had grown tired of being stuck. So what else could I do but write. So I figured a change of scenery might get me to come to some conclusion on how I wanted HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES to end. And goodness knows Lestat’s had good coffee.

But…nope. A few times I even got teary-eyed writing. While it was building to a head nicely, Shaun still couldn’t make up his mind. Neither could his author. Some days were better than others.

And I couldn’t help but wonder why? Was it really that hard for me because of the characters, or was it hard because it was mirroring my own life?

I thought about that Ryan Reynolds article often. I mentioned it, the one he did with Best Life. His talk about happiness as he was raising up through the acting ranks. And what kept resonating to me was so small, but so significant.

Happiness is a choice. It was a choice that most people did not make.

I didn’t want to be like most people. And I knew how much HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES was important to me. From the years I’ve been working on it. To hearing my deceased friend Mr. Moore in my head, always encouraging me. To my father who had also passed, wanting me to be doing what I dreamt of doing. To see the look on my bartender friend Matt’s face when he saw the ‘passion project’ was done…and in his hands…SIGNED.

I haven’t finished a book since 2020. And what I wanted to be doing was writing. That was what was going to make me happy. So…wasn’t it time to be done? Wasn’t it time to be happy?

So…I made my choice.

Same time tomorrow?

THE PATH FORWARD

Pure and utter chaos.

That was how I described the climax and closing chapters of HOW THE OTHER HALF LIVES. Rebuttals. Debates. Catfights. Fashion. The Hamptons. You would have thought it was the Real Housewives of Miami, not a gay novel. Hehe.

But then…there it was again. The very thing that I was avoiding. The ending.

I felt that I had set it up well enough. Shaun had had a moment with both of his love interests. Readers got to see the interaction. The chemistry. But the real question persisted…who would Shaun pick?

Hmm…good question. And as I sat in Lestat’s, I did not know what to say. My current personal situation blended into both love interests. Should Shaun take Offer 1 with all of its complications, or should he go for Offer 2 which would be a sure bet though it was not without its own complications? Who would make him happy? How could he choose? If his author could not pick in his current life, what were the odds that the character would pick any better?

Ryan Reynolds’s words came back to me again. So as I sat in Lestat’s, I asked myself…what would Shaun want to make him happy. After some shade, a lickback, and a run out with tears, I wrote what Shaun’s choice was. I also got to write words, I never thought I would get to.

The end.

Would readers like it? I was not sure. I was sure that I would get interesting responses. As for the traces of me in my novel…well…it was a given that that would show up in my work. I thought there were some lessons to learn from it. But as long as I trusted my intuition, it was all good.

#writing #ryanreynolds #menshealth #mirroring #mirror #sandiego #shadowself #happiness #choices #blog #ending #rhom #lestats #passionproject #paths #inspiration

[helpful-hardware]

(you know i can see) what you really are

Metal Sonic was one of Eggman's most powerful and respected creations... but if that was the case, why was he tossed around like nothing when he lost? Why is he hurting? And why does that copy want to help him?

this 7k+ words behemoth took a lot out of me but it was sooo worth it.. read on ao3 or go below the fold here!

CHAPTER 1

Metal was the cold, dull plating that lined the mad doctor’s airship. Metal walked along those sheets of steel, after yet another failed attempt to assert himself as the real Sonic by beating that annoying organic to a pulp. Yet, his failure wasn’t what he was thinking about at this moment. Rather, it was how he was reminded of it. Eggman has always been a man that expected perfection from his work. His plans, his machines, himself. Anything less needed to be rectified and if necessary, replaced in order to finally put that rodent out of his misery. Given Sonic’s track record of successfully tearing through his badniks and attempts at world domination, it’s no surprise that the doctor gets frustrated at his creations fairly frequently.

Metal Sonic has gotten the brunt of his anger the most out of all of Eggman’s creations. The reason has not quite been clear. It might be the fact that the bot was built to resemble the “copy” that was meant to be destroyed, or possibly something relating to how long he has been online, even through the many changes required for his continual functioning. Whatever the case, the self-proclaimed genius often berated the “bucket of bolts” for failing to subdue his inferior. Threats to disassemble and melt to scrap are made, but never followed upon. Occasionally the robot would be kicked and thrown around, accompanied by grunts of anger. Each event ends the same however, with Metal being told to return to his chambers and await further instruction.

Memories of every moment he is online are stored on a hyper-dense chip in his ‘skull’, the explanation being so he can learn from the hedgehog’s behavior, and from his own mistakes. This seemed to also include the doctor’s ranting and fury. The words. The disappointment. The damage. The dents that he left have since been buffed out, removed and replaced with newer parts. But the memories, the (for lack of a better word) feelings that came from those attacks stubbornly refused to be deleted. Metal felt hurt. The fact that he felt at all was strange. Why could he even feel to begin with? It’s not necessary for besting and subduing his enemy, so why was that functionality implemented in him? And why was he only thinking of this now, after having to undergo that abuse for at least ten time–

Metal felt his circuits jump. That word. Abuse. That wasn’t the right word for what he did, was it? His onboard dictionary had multiple definitions for the word, with the last two reading as follows: 

“Def. 3: language that condemns or vilifies usually unjustly, intemperately, and angrily.”

“Def. 4: physical maltreatment.”

After re-evaluating the records he had, he felt startled by the only logical conclusion: Both definitions perfectly apply to what he did. Eggman abused Metal Sonic, and continues to do so. 

This could not be right. It couldn’t be. Eggman was purportedly the most perfect person on Mobius and yet, the logic was sound. Everything matched up. Everything hurt. He shouldn’t be hurting. He shouldn’t be here. Leaving the airship would constitute a violation of the old man’s orders, and of the principle that he remain loyal to the Eggman Empire, but it didn’t feel right to remain. The metal walls surrounding the badnik felt closer than before, suffocating almost. A visual malfunction, something Eggman could fix but damnit he can’t be near him right now. Before anything else could interrupt his processes, Metal ran straight (more or less) down the hall to a partially opened overhead door in the loading bay, and let himself fall out to who knows where. Who cares, even? Metal didn’t care, and really didn’t have time to before a sharp collision with the earth below made his systems stop.

--+{X}+--

Visual sensors come back online. The first image? A wide expanse of dark indigo hues, blended together to serve as the backdrop for all the lights from beyond. At our vantage point, they look like nothing more than pearl white dots shimmering as they crawl across the night sky. Metal Sonic has evidently landed on his back. Control over his motors and servos slowly fades in. His stainless steel claws dig into the earth below him, grasping clumps of dirt and grass as he tries to push his upper half to a sitting position. With that accomplished, the bot can see his surroundings properly. Ahead lay a forest filled with what seemed to be a variety of oak and hickory trees. Common in temperate climates. Behind him he observes a hilly grass-laden expanse. As the badnik tries to ascertain where on Mobius he may have landed, and how to get back to Eggman’s base… his prior thoughts return to working memory.

Metal still didn’t want to go back to him, of course. Never mind that it was a direct violation of his loyalty to the man, and that the last time he tried to ditch him was when that chunk of his memories were removed entirely. What even happened then? Was it for the same reasons that he left the airship today? It was, wasn’t it. There wasn’t any other explanation, at least not that he could think of at the moment. The thoughts of that scared Metal, yet they shouldn’t! The only scary thing here should be the way he’ll finally prove his superiority over–

That inferior copy ran by just then, with the typical glowing blue trace following in his wake. Of course he decides to show up. Think of the devil and he may appear. Although, this might not be too bad. If anything, it’s the perfect opportunity to take his mind off of all of those memories, at least for a while. Besides, when has Metal ever turned down the chance to fight against Sonic? Well there may have been one time before that he was forced to–OK don't think about that now, just go. Just get to your feet and use that jet engine of yours to get him. He followed that vague memory of the trail his clone left for about half a mile, right until said clone collided with him.

The spin attack sent the bot tumbling backwards, his chassis skidding through the dirt and uprooting some grasses and small flowers. Great, more scuffs and dirt that need to be addressed later.

“Woah.. back already, Metal?”

…but not before the blue menace that just sneered at him is dealt with. Metal removes his head from the earth that obscured his vision, and turns it to look at his long-time enemy. Sure enough, Sonic looks the same as he always had. Smug smirk and cocky attitude included. Before the badnik could interject with a perfectly demeaning “greeting”, the organic hedgehog had a bit more of his spiel to get through.

“I’m kinda surprised. Didn’t expect the ol’ Eggster to fix you up that fast!”

A spasm.

For whatever reason, the mention of his… creator’s… name made Metal’s whole frame shake. It never happened before, so why now? Whatever the reason, Sonic didn’t seem to think it was that big of a deal. “Although, he probably didn’t do a perfect job.”

Another spasm. No. It was all from that name. The name of the man who called him “one of my finest creations”, yet kicked him around like he was nothing when he failed. He may as well be nothing.

[Stop. Talking.]

“...and start fighting? Alright then, I’ll send you packing right back to him in no ti–”

Another spasm. Far too much. It needed to stop.

[STOP. STOP. STOP.]

--+{X}+--

Late night runs have always been a routine Sonic partook in. A solid way to burn off that last bit of adrenaline before bed, and well, they’ve just been enjoyable regardless. Whether he spends the time taking in the sights of the night sky or feeling the usual wind in his quills, or whether he’s having a good old-fashioned race or fight with one of his many rivals. He didn’t quite expect a meeting with Metal turning out like this, though. The robotic double had just been defeated the day prior, in one of Eggman’s more minor schemes in between the ones where he vies for world domination. Seeing him back so soon was one thing, but the way he’s behaving now is downright strange. Sonic is quick to voice that. “Okay, I’ve never seen you acting like this before. Another one of Eggman’s weir–”

A startling screeching noise emanated from Metal’s vocal synthesizer, catching the blue blur completely off guard and making his fur stand on end. If he had to guess, Sonic might say that harsh tone was out of anger and… possibly distress? Something told him now that this probably wasn’t one of the doctor’s weird plots. The noise eventually stopped, with the source of it visibly trembling on his knees. For a moment, maybe two, Sonic was stunned into silence. His ears, which have flopped downward once the noise began, currently remain in that position. The hedgehog has always been one to help others in need, including villains in some cases. Right now, he knew he had to help Metal Sonic, but couldn’t really think of a way how. Just then, as if responding to an unasked “what’s wrong”, the badnik began to speak, with the pitch of his words being as shaky as the rest of him was.

[He… hurt me. I am not supposed to feel hurt, yet I do. I am the most superior badnik, yet he hurts me still. I am forced to remember. I do not want to. I want to forget. I want to forget. I want to forget. I want to–]

Metal was brought out of that loop when his copy called his name. No longer fixated on that impossible desire, he was able to sit up and focus on his surroundings for a moment. Sonic knelt on the ground next to the robot, ears drooping, and a look of deep concern in his eyes. It was wrong. It felt so wrong. He should not be cared about, especially not by that inferior pest! Yet… he wanted it to end. He wanted his thoughts to stop. He didn’t want help. He did want help. He doesn’t know anymore. His chips feel strained.

“Metal… What did he even do to you?”

A silence falls over the moonlit fields. Both Sonics turn their heads earthward, but neither say a word. After a brief time, Sonic thinks he hears something moving through the grass. His ears slightly perk up as he looks around, failing to find another figure standing anywhere nearby. That quiet sound plays again, and the hedgehog manages to place it coming from… Metal? He sat on the ground hugging his knees. Must’ve been him shuffling around, right? Another burst of noise and sure enough, it’s actually from his vocal synthesizer. It sounded strangely like the static noise from Tails’ radio equipment, but modified. The volume goes up slightly, and then stops. But it plays again, sounding lower each time, again and again, then going back to its original pitch. The bursts also came in a peculiar rhythm, sounding slightly farther apart as it goes before going back to repeat again. Come to think of it, they almost resembled–

…

Oh.

Oh no.

Metal Sonic… is crying.

…

Sonic’s not been the best at comforting others in situations like this. Hell, he can barely comfort himself at his lowest moments (not that anyone’s supposed to know about that). Still, the badnik is hurting. Like, actually hurting. Someone’s gotta be there for him. Sonic reaches out to put a comforting hand on his shoulder…

…only for Metal to flinch at the touch and back away a few inches, staring at his mobian counterpart for a second before looking back inward and resuming his computerized sobs. Right. This is Metal Sonic, the bot built to replace his organic basis. Of course he wouldn’t be so willing to accept help from his lifelong rival. But… Sonic had to do something! He couldn’t just leave anyone like this, in crisis and so far from–

Home. Metal’s was with Eggman. He’d be looking for the bot that rebelled for a second time. The pit in Sonic’s stomach grew a bit deeper just then. There is no way the hedgehog would ever let the doctor get to Metal. Not after what he’s seen.

The robot’s sobs continued on. It pained Sonic that he couldn’t do anything in the moment to help, but he still had an idea on something that could be done. He whipped out his phone from his quills, and dialed in the number of someone who should be in bed right now, but is too hyperfixated on his work to notice. It only took two rings for the other line to pick up, and only a second after that for the brotherly teasing to begin.

“Hey Tails! How’s staying up past your bedtime going for ya?”

“Sonic… I was in the middle of working on a new invention!”

“Well healthy sleeping habits are more important, lil’ bro.”

“Says the one who’s also still awake.”

Sonic could just hear the smirk coming from the other end.

“Yeah, yeah… anyway could that be put on hold for just a second? Something kinda important came up.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll explain later. Meet me at my coordinates. Oh, and bring some of your tools just in case.”

--+{X}+--

It only took about ten minutes after the call ended for the flying fox to arrive, his ‘natural propeller’ of sorts slowing as he landed on the ground to meet his big brother. It also didn’t take long for Tails to question what he was doing with Metal Sonic (the murder bot was in sleep mode and technically not a threat at the moment, but still). Sonic took some time to explain what Metal had gone through, but for the kit it just seemed too outrageous to believe.

“You remember the last time he was free of Eggman’s control? He copied all our bio-data and tried to kill us all!”

“Tails, I promise he’s not going to hurt me, or anyone else like that. He needs help, and I don't wanna leave him here like this.”

The banter and bickering between the two mobians carried on, the inventor incredulous at the idea that Metal was actually feeling mental pain. Sonic, however, was not intending to budge. Eventually though, Tails relented.

“Fine. I'll let him stay with us for a while, on the condition that I inspect him here and remove anything that links him to Eggman. Deal?”

“Deal.”

The fox couldn’t work as fast as he would’ve liked, all of his more efficient tools were at the workshop and Tails was not really keen on potentially letting the mad doctor know where he and Sonic lived. But, his Miles Electric and the assortment of other tools he brought were just enough to do some digging around. First came looking to see if there were any tracking devices onboard, which there was one that was trivial to remove. Next came any software tracking, or any code that connected to EggNet in any way. Trying to crack the security on Metal’s code was time-consuming, but doable still. Once inside, Tails noticed how easy it was to access the robot’s memories, and how adamant Sonic was that they weren’t tampered with in any way. The thought hadn’t come to mind beforehand, but whatever. The kit could theoretically come back to them later anyhow. The programs that could give away Metal’s location were more pertinent. Those, and other apps that link with EggNet were removed.

All in all, the whole ordeal took a bit over an hour to finish. But, everything had been taken care of. If it lasted any longer, Tails would’ve face planted into the robot that was now EggNet-free. Thank Gaia, he thought as he disconnected his tablet from Metal. He would have then told Sonic that he’s ready to go, if it weren’t for the badnik springing to life and startling him.

[Sir, I already know how I failed.]

“W-what just happened?”

Sonic didn't have an answer, he only looked at Metal with a mixture of surprise and worry on his face. Evidently, neither of the brothers knew why he awoke.

[Subpar performance acknowledged. You do not need to repeat your statement.]

Statements like this, they weren’t directed at the two, but someone else. Someone that neither Sonic nor Tails could see, but someone that the robot was seemingly terrified of, as evident from the way he steadily backed himself away from the two and up against a tree. The hedgehog seemed to know what this was, as he tried desperately and quickly to get his clone’s attention. “Metal, listen to me–”

[I understand. Your actions are unnecessary. YOUR ACTIONS ARE UNNECESSARY.]

“METAL!!”

Blink. The LED “eyes” that Metal had covered with his arms blinked a few more times, slightly moving around as he (hopefully) was realizing where he really was. From a distance, Tails watches in pure shock at what had just unfolded, and remains frozen while his brother tries to ground his double.

“Metal, it’s okay. You're not there, you're with me. You’re here. You're safe.”

A moment or two pass by, as Metal glances at his nearby surroundings. Although it doesn't take long for him to then hug his knees up against his chest and sob. The fox slowly walks over, realizing 1. that Sonic was telling the truth and not being duped, and 2. sweet Chaos what even happened to make the badnik behave like this? He didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know right now. All he can do is join Sonic in giving Metal some company as he cries and cries. Tails sits down on the other side of the bot from his brother, letting his namesakes lay against its chassis. Said brother is whispering words of comfort and reassurance, that sadly may not be doing as much as he hoped. Regardless, the two organics come to agree on one thing: Metal Sonic needs help, and a lot of it. The two vow to each other as they carry the bot to their workshop later that night, that they’d try the best they could to make him feel better. Sonic specifically though, he vows to himself to get answers later from the man who thought it OK to abuse his creation.

CHAPTER 2

One thing at a time. One step at a time, as the brothers walk with Metal Sonic towards their rustic workshop and home. The bot had to be calmed down enough to actually make the trip, but thankfully that wasn’t too difficult. Surprisingly, it didn’t take much convincing for Metal to agree to hunkering down there. Then again, he was likely too drained to question it. All three of those walking worn paths in the Mystic Ruins were feeling out of it, quite frankly. Too tired to think, to address the implications of what happened on this otherwise rather gentle spring night. No one spoke during the travel, an air of unease enveloping the mobians who felt a pit in their stomachs. Metal didn’t feel right either, and that had them all worried.

The three eventually clambered to the cliffside complex that they all called ‘home’. For two it was their more-or-less permanent settlement. For the other… Well to put it one way, it sure as hell beats the alternative. That said, he was Metal Sonic , and he wasn’t going to just befriend his lifelong enemies like this. This was only a temporary arrangement for his own safety. Nothing more. It wasn’t meant to be anything more. …or was it? A sort of mental fog came over the bot, it was hard for him to even think about what he wanted. Did he want their care? Did he not want their help? Should he even stay here, or was it only right to return and be thrashed around like the miserable TRAITOROUS PIECE OF SH–

“Metal? The door’s open. You coming in or what?”

A blink. Then a few more. This was what, the third time that the badnik got lost in internal threads of thought like this? Sure enough in reality, he was standing right outside while the fox was holding the workshop door open, letting warm air flow into the wider atmosphere. Tails looked expectantly at Metal, concern and slight annoyance crossing his face. Right. Perhaps it would be a good idea to pay attention to the people who bothered to give him shelter. The bot walked on through, with the child following behind before shutting the door.

The interior was a modestly spacious hangar and workspace, with Tails’ own biplane occupying a big chunk of it all at the moment. With the three tired beings now inside, it was now a matter of sorting out a sleep arrangement for Metal Sonic. That matter was one that his organic counterpart elected to solve. “Alright. You could sleep with me in my room or–”

Metal promptly turned his gaze down and away while crossing his arms. “Oookay then. Guess you’re staying in here tonight.” With that ‘settled’, Sonic turned his attention to the only other mobian in the building. “...if that’s alright with you, Tails?”

He only had the energy to shrug. With a sigh, his older brother stepped down on one knee to meet the fox’s gaze.

“Get some sleep this time, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Love you, little bro.”

Metal could only observe the scene before him: the gentle embrace and the “love yous”, the interaction completely foreign and befuddling. Not just because of the bot’s exhausted CPU, though that certainly didn’t help. It was over in a moment regardless, and the “real” hedgehog left the exchange to go up the stairwell just nearby, presumably to go to his own bedroom. He went up only a few steps before turning his head back the other way. “You get some rest too, ‘Metal Me’...”

The robot still wasn’t able to speak at that time, although Sonic probably didn’t expect a response anyhow. All the organic returned was a solemn smile before he turned and ascended the rest of the way. Some… some sort of feeling arose in Metal with that smile. A feeling that he instinctively wanted to grab and hold onto for dear life. A feeling that was hard to put into words (even if he actually could right then). A feeling that felt right… and yet so wrong somehow coming from Sonic. Was it just because it came from his rival? Or was there something more? Before he could even attempt to process any of this, an interrupt came in the form of a kitsune deciding to speak up.

“You can park yourself wherever you want, just don't mess with anything I’m working on.” A simple instruction delivered in a somewhat aloof tone. Admittedly it was a bit tempting to disobey, wreck everything and take Tails as a hostage, but Metal would be kidding himself if he said he actually had the energy to even do it. Besides, it didn’t feel right. Nothing had ever felt right for the past few hours, and that scared him. The bot let himself sit on an upturned crate nearby, a simple task not requiring much work or thought. Thoughts were too hard. Everything was just so hard. He needed a break, a moment or two to decompress and make sense of things. Visual sensors go offline to free up memory space, and it didn’t take long after that for some core processing threads to be terminated, and for Metal to fall into a ‘sleep’ state.

--+{X}+--

Clink clank. The only sounds that could be heard were the clanking of Metal Sonic’s “shoes�� against the floor, and the rapid footsteps of his inferior copy from behind. He was running. Running toward something? The only thing that could be seen was… nothing. Just a pitch black void of nothingness stretching out for infinity. He was making distance, but not for the purpose of reaching somewhere. Running from something? Or rather, someone. Metal took a glance backward as he kept his pace. Sonic stared back at him, his green eyed gaze showing some sort of determination. It felt strange. Ideally Sonic should be the one running away, not him! He should stop for a moment, throw him off, change direction, get closer–

However, a voice as strong as that one told him to keep going. Keep running. Don't let up. Don't be weak. Don't fail him. Metal faltered for a split second, allowing his double to start closing the gap between them. By now, they were about a meter apart. Not good. Good. You're letting him down. You don't want him. You're a failure. You've never had a chance to succeed. Let him get you. Keep him away. Reach for him. Push him away. You hate him. You need him. You can't think. You can't think. You stumble and fall. You let him get closer. You curl yourself up. They look at you. The hammer comes down.

--+{X}+--

Awareness comes up rather suddenly for Metal. Perhaps it was too sudden though, for in the midst of the panic, distress, and confusion, he let his body tilt forward. Falling off the crate, and collapsing with a clatter on the cold hangar floor. A floor that he could actually see. Now there’s something to reassure the badnik that he wasn’t dreaming. Alas, this sudden commotion did not go unnoticed. In the corner of Metal’s vision, he could just about see a young fox that was previously nodding off with his head on his work desk. Said fox was startled wide awake, frantically looking around for where the hell that noise came from.

Tails and his namesakes relaxed with a sigh of slight relief upon seeing that no, it wasn’t an Eggman robot that had just intruded or one of his projects spontaneously combusting (the latter may or may not have happened before, though he won’t ever tell). Anyhow he rushed over, with Miles Electric in hand, over to the robot which had rather disgracefully landed on hard concrete. He rotated the robot back to a more fitting sitting position, on the floor this time. Questions were raised, the typical wanting to make sure the other was okay, but they were never answered. It’s not like Metal was incapable of answering this time, it’s just that the fox was thinking and talking so fast that even if the robot in his confused state did manage to get a word out, it probably wouldn’t have even been processed by the kit who was now using his tablet to scan for anything wrong.

The results? Only minor dents on the body and head. Nothing major. Nothing to worry about. With that, Tails managed to finally take a longer breath, and he let himself slump against the same crate Metal fell from as the adrenaline started to dissipate. Nervous chuckling escaped his mouth. “N-next time, maybe find a more stable place to sleep?” The bot simply rolled his eyes. Within some moments the laughs had stopped, their rhythms had slowed, and both beings found themselves in a strange sort of calm. A dare I say, peaceful few minutes went by like this: the two absent-mindedly gazing at nothing in particular, occasionally making eye contact only for the artificial form to break it soon after.

One object in the wide space managed to catch his attention though. That tablet, the same one he saw the fox with the last time he… woke up. The screen was dimmed, as if it were to go into a sleep mode of its own, but Metal could just barely make out the information displayed: specifications about himself, his construction, his codebase. And an alarm went off in his mind. [You had access to my code.]

“Huh?” The fox looked to stare back at the robot that for the first time in the entire night, was now holding eye contact. However, it was evidently not for a ‘happy’ reason.

[What did you do with my code?]

Tails attempted to wave that concern away. “Relax, I didn't mess with your personality or anything. I just took out your onboard tracker and other bits of code that connected you to Eggman’s stuff.”

The arm that Metal was leaning on slightly shook with those last words, nearly sending his head to the pavement again.

“Ah… right…”

The fox’s features slumped a bit further, while the badnik did an internal scan on his filesystem. Sure enough, he was right. The only things changed were tracking and communications, all other programs were left untouched.

Another silence came over the two. Neither paid attention to how long it lasted exactly, all Metal knew was this was nearly two hours after he first drifted to sleep in a quite frankly ridiculous position. The other ‘Sonic’ would probably get a kick out of hearing about that.

[In other circumstances,] he broke the silence, more talking to himself than anyone else. [I would have reduced you, that copy, and this whole building to ashes by now.]

“Yet you're staying here.”

[This arrangement is more… preferable for my needs at the moment.]

…

Eventually, Tails stood up and slowly made his way to that stairwell. A heavy sigh left him. “I'm sorry that he–”

[Do not speak of it. Not now.]

Still a sore subject, sadly. “...Understood.” The fox disappeared round a corner, creaking wood continually decreasing in volume… into silence. The cool air that flowed through the workshop was even more noticeable now. Yet again, Metal was left with his thoughts. Metal was alone.

CHAPTER 3

Metal had been alone before, plenty of times in fact. He was alone in his chambers awaiting the next chance to beat his inferior. He was alone in stealth missions. He was alone scouting ahead. He was alone out of sight, waiting for the right opportunity to strike. He was alone (presumably) the last time he rebelled from his… well, the last time he rebelled. He was alone now, as cold post-midnight air blew and was felt by the multitude of sensors in his chassis. Metal was used to being alone, so why? Why did this time feel so different? It’s illogical, the bot knew. He shouldn’t be having so much trouble with the thought of being alone now! He could do this.

After all, he didn’t pride himself on being superior to the other badniks for nothing! The times where Sonic bested him were mere flukes, he was sure! He CAN do this! He was determined! Fearless! Strong! Resourceful and clever! He was the kind of killer robot whose creator would be proud of him!

…But yet, he wasn’t. He was disgraced. Broken. Afraid. Abused. He wasn’t respected at all. He was a tool to be used for someone else’s gain, and to be forcefully bent into shape when he inevitably failed. He was the kind of robot who was now clutching his skull, feeling emotions that he shouldn’t feel. He hated it. He hated such a demeaning existence. He hated not having someone who appreciated his greatness. He hated being alone. He can’t be alone. He can’t be alone.

Metal’s thoughts were accelerating in frequency, and so too was the rate at which the walls inched closer to him. Wait, when did that start happening? Was this just another visual malfunction, like the one he had back on the airship? Thinking about the airship, about that man made things worse, overclocking his systems. It was far too much to bear. He needed to leave, needed to LEAVE NOW!

The robot scrambled to his feet and raced towards the only possible exit, that stairwell. He still felt uneasy about being in neutral company with the two that had ascended it before, but that was the least of his priorities at the moment. What was a priority was getting up those Gaia-forsaken stairs. Even just crawling up them was difficult, what with his rapid thinking and distorted vision. Both of those could be a fair guess from any outsider as to what’s going on; all it takes is one look at his optical display and his “eyes” which have been reduced to thin red circles. Creaking wood combined with the sound of metal scraping against, as his limbs had a harder time grabbing hold of the next step every time. But he had to keep going, he had to go GET OUT–

Metal made it to the top of the stairs, by way of accidentally sending his body colliding with the ceiling and pitifully crashing back down to the floor below. More physical bruises to add along the mental ones. The bot lifted himself up a bit to look into his new surroundings. Things weren’t as shaky now (that physical shock might have had something to do with it), and he could see…

A typical living room. A light green tessellating pattern coated the walls, matching with the dark wooden flooring. Probably mahogany. The typical amenities were there too. A rather reflective flatscreen TV sat on top of an entertainment center which had the usual mix of discs and consoles. Opposite it were a modest table and some cushioned seats. The back of the couch in particular had minor depressions, presumably from where two people sat here. Lived here. Other little details supported this too, like photos of their adventures hanging on the walls, a loose disc of one of those ‘Chao in Space’ movies laying on the table, and a drawing attached to a fridge in the adjacent open kitchen, presumably drawn at a very young age. The signature in the corner read “TAILS”, but with the S written backwards.

This was evidently a place that the hedgehog and fox lived in. Their home. It certainly looked a lot more according to the regular examples of a home than… where he spent his days before. Why couldn’t he have something like this? Why wasn’t he–

“And what are you still doing up?”

Ah. One of the people who lived here happened to be still awake. That person of course being the blue hedgehog that Metal was modeled after, who happened to unintentionally make him jump back a bit. The robotic double had also expected the mobian to be sleeping at this time, but never mind that. Right now, what he needed was a plausible excuse to be standing around in his (usually) enemy’s living space.

[Examining my new surroundings.]

Okay, maybe that could have been a bit better. And if Metal could see through his own flimsy response, then… “Can’t that wait until you can see things better?”

This was ridiculous. A waste of time. [Do not question my reasoning, meatbag,] the robot uttered as he slowly made his way back towards those stairs. Sonic was right, wasn’t he. What would he even serve to gain from just loitering in the middle of-

“Are you up cause you’re scared of a nightmare or something?”

He stops mid-stride. That hedgehog, he’s so perceptive, so… caring.

“Dude… you could just sleep with me. That’s what Tails did when he had trouble sleeping.”

Metal turns his head back to glare at his organic counterpart. The bot had thought it best that Sonic not butt into places where he shouldn’t be involved.

[I would like to avoid being close to you unless it’s for eviscerating your head.]

“Too bad that’s not happening. You're gonna be stuck with Tails and I until we know the doc isn’t–”

Another spasm.

“Oh, right… Sorry…”

These were starting to get old really quick. He shouldn’t be like this, inching closer to a mental breakdown everytime he hears a reference to him, or his gaia-damned name. He shouldn’t be having the equivalent of a panic attack when he’s on his own. He hates it. He hates the whole package of feelings that have been unleashed since that realization, an event that makes him almost curse his own synthetic intellect. And here he is looking at his notorious adversary, actually considering accepting help from that blue rat. Was it worth it? Deep down, he had always hated that hedgehog and everything he stood for. Would it really be the best idea to set all that aside? Just this once?

Metal took one look back at the stairwell… and made up his mind.

“Wait, what are you…” Sonic questioned as his robotic double walked past him, and toward the hall from whence he came.

[Think nothing of this, pest,] the badnik said with a short glance before making his way through the door ahead of him. If he had held his gaze for a moment or two more however, he would’ve noticed as a light smirk crept across Sonic’s face.

The bedroom was very much suitable for someone like that hedgehog. Fairly clean, as Sonic didn’t spend too much time here, but it was still decorated with loads of photos and trinkets gathered from the many adventures he’s been on. The most striking thing about his room was the bed, the frame of which took on a disguise reminiscent of a high speed race car. Childish, of course, but Metal supposed it fit with the organic’s “theme” as it were. Besides, it’s not like the bot was in a position or mood to poke fun like this.

Sonic walks past him and gestures towards said bed, a way of asking if he’d like to lay next to the blue blur. The bot instead walks his back against the wall opposite from the door, and lets his cold frame slump to the floor. The hedgehog in response lets his arms fall down to his sides, his features turning solemn as he moves to tuck himself in. For moments only silence could be heard, accented by the muffled sound of rain beginning to pour in outside. This would be interrupted soon because of one question. Something that has been bugging Metal Sonic ever since he was first found hours ago.

[Why?]

“Hm?”

[Why are you offering to help me?]

Sonic sat up on his mattress, and his robot double slowly stood to meet his gaze.

“It’s pretty simple honestly. I see a person in need of help, and I do the best I can to do just that. Wherever the wind takes me, wherever I find people.”

Metal slowly sauntered to the side of the bed, while Sonic carried on with his softer tone. This sensitivity… it’s not anything the bot had seen of him before.

“And that includes you too.”

[But why me? I have done nothing but try to end you, hedgehog.]

“Well, things have changed. Besides, I've always believed in second chances.”

[So foolish and naive of you.]

“I couldn’t just leave you there for him to-!”

A loud crashing sound accompanies a bright flash of light, coming from the bedroom window. Lightning always results in a shock, but for Metal it was mental rather than electrical (disregarding the fact that his brain is electric). It was a jump backwards, and then a stumbling roll onto Sonic’s bed. He landed as a heap, almost on top of the speedster’s hand which was swiftly pulled back in a similarly surprised state.

“H-Hey, it was just lightning! You’re fine…”

Metal felt so wrong. Everything felt shaky and far too erratic for comfort. The jolt of lightning had brought up similar memories of sudden impacts. They were more present than they needed to be. They felt far more vivid than they needed to be. They all hurt, almost as much as it did to look at the other hedgehog’s eyes. Eyes full of heartbreak and concern. Eyes that desperately wanted the other to not feel so disturbed, to just be ok. Sonic had said seconds ago that he was fine, but… Was he? Was he?

“Metal?”

No. He wasn’t. In an instant his limbs curled inward to a fetal position, arms wrapping around his whole body as the noise began. His ‘cries’, which felt oh-so-louder and far more distressing, reverberated through the room. His whole being was shaking with his whines, altogether creating an image that made Sonic feel absolutely horrible. He didn’t deserve this. Metal didn’t deserve any of the pain he’s been through, regardless of the fact that he’s inflicted pain on the hedgehog before. It wasn’t right. It never ever was. That earlier vow to make Eggman answer for all of this was cemented now. Maybe it even justified worse actions…?

Sonic wasn’t sure. He also wasn’t sure of what best way to aid the badnik, which was the more pressing concern. He started to reach out a hand toward Metal, who noticed and lightly put one of his own hands on top. It only lay there for a moment however, as he suddenly reached further to pull the organic’s body right up against his, then wrapped his arms tightly around it. Sonic was slightly taken aback by this, but soon let his hand rest around the shivering robot as well. Its sobs continue for a long while, even prompting the blue blur to shed a few tears of his own in response.

At some point, the bot manages to mutter some sort of desperate plea to himself.

[I can’t go back. I can’t go back. I can’t-]

“You won’t. He’s not gonna hurt you anymore. I’ll make sure of it.” Sonic was quick to interject. That man would never lay a finger on Metal ever again. Of course it wouldn’t reverse the trauma that is causing him to cry out into his rival’s chest seemingly endlessly, but it was necessary for his safety and wellbeing now, and that’s what mattered. The pain won’t ever fully go away, but it can be managed. Processed. Understood. Through all of the sobs that have left a deep pit to form in his chest, Sonic has his mind set in this. Metal Sonic needs to recover. He needs to be himself. He needs to be ok.

He has to be. He just has to be.

[kuwdora]

💞💌✨

💞what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

Ohhh I got this ask several times, so I can answer it in multiple parts! Err, I might ramble a little...

As a writer I come at everything from character. Plot stems from the character, and the world building also (mostly) spins out from the character.

This is why I can write 15k or 25k and not actually have a beginning, middle, or end. I get so caught up in the process of understanding how the character is inhabiting the world and figuring out what they want. What they need. It takes me so long to narrow things down and cut things out because I’m so far inside a character’s head.

Sometimes approach a story from a “what if x happens to Character A?” (I have a like two trope-y yennskier things I want to tackle this year that start with this question). But 7 or 8 times out of 10 I’m starting with what a character is feeling and doing and rolling around in the why. All my feelings start and end there. ❤️

✨What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

Oh, I could probably just randomly pick any of my witcher stories at this point but maybe I’ll single out Learning Curve which on the surface is just porny cuddles and softness, but I spent a lot of time working through some TWN Yen thoughts about how she is coping from season 1 and 2 events. Her upbringing and relationship with Aretuza and Tissaia and how that impacts the way she fucks up with Ciri and what she wants to try to do and be better.

This Yen also has a magical disability which throws an emotional/psychological/logistical wrench into her plans about how to teach Ciri, too. Sure, Yen got her powers back from Voleth Meir, but what if there was still a physical/magical consequence for using up so much of her chaos in the first place? The wear and tear on her body can’t just go away, even if she can get her magic back.

I want to write more about Yen and magical disability and explore teacher/student dynamic with Ciri and when/if it can cross into a mother/daughter dynamic that I felt more acutely in the books and games.

💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!

Ah!! Yes, okay. My puppetskier story Coin Operated Boy will feature Shani for a few scenes. It’s going to be sweet and endearing and funny. But!! Let me share with you the first meeting between Shani and Jaskier. This is not in the puppetskier story because I’m writing and publishing this in a very non-linear order but I want to share anyway cause I am EXCITED.

Some context: I’m casting a young Jessica Sula as Shani, and this Shani is going to be maybe a little genderqueer. And when Jaskier first meets Shani, he’s a little hungover and has been going through some things so he’s not at his best.

I’m enjoying writing Shani and Jaskier’s dynamic, mostly from a point of view where Shani actually doesn’t know who Jaskier is as a performer or professor because she’s been too busy doing her own thing. Jaskier hasn’t always been around for her to meet first or second-hand. The intergenerational friendship is a big deal to me to explore and tease, which is largely a contrast and parallel for when Jaskier was first setting out on his adventures with a monster slayer.

Bedside Manner Shani & Jaskier warning for implied alcohol abuse ~1800w

A gentle boot kicked Jaskier awake. Gulls. Clop of hooves. Distant yelling and chatter. He didn’t remember falling asleep down near the harbor.

Stabbing pain gouged Jaskier behind his eyes. He refused to open them to see what kicked him. He tried rolling over, his chin knocking into the corner of something, and instead he folded his arm and turned the other way. Horseshit wafted in the air, mingling with the scents of fish and piss. Maybe he should get up after all.

The boot kicked him again, but not with the heavy intent of harm.

“Hey.”

Jaskier was cold and stiff and he pulled his sleeves down. Pulled himself away from the repeated kick. Gentle, but still annoying.

“What,” he muttered.

“Wake up.”

The voice was bossy, but warm. Jaskier’s stomach clenched in pain and he scrunched his face. Last night hadn’t gone as planned, judging from the aches in his body. He remembered making it to a cot at some point to sleep off the drinking game, but he was outside now. His mouth was sandpaper dry. Coppery-taste on the inside of his lip and cheek and the faint taste of semen in his mouth.

Why did morning exist and why was someone bothering him?

“No,” Jaskier said and pulled the collar of his coat up to protect him from the sea breeze. He kept his eyes shut and feet shuffled beside him. The creak of wood beside his ear was like an anvil being dropped on his head. “Fuck.”

Jaskier rubbed his face which did little good to improve his situation. He opened his eyes, had a fuck-all time clearing the gunk from his vision, and regretted the daylight immediately. He blocked out the sun with his hand and hazarded a glance upwards.

A child peered at him from the cart that Jaskier was leaning against. He squinted at the street urchin, bronze skin with large brown eyes and curly, cropped hair that seemed to be an unnatural shade of red. Cherubic. Precocious. Someone looking for opportunity.

“I don’t have anything worth stealing,” Jaskier said and thought about getting up and decided against it when the needles inside his head told him not to move.

“Got that right. Saw three fellas feeling you up before I came over. Lucky you still have your boots,” the boy said.

“My boots are shit,” Jaskier said.

“Which is why you still have ‘em, I guess,” the boy agreed.

Jaskier sighed and his head lolled back, closing his eyes, and trying to find the will get to his feet.

He felt an odd pressure on the top of his head and tried to look up but something rolled down the side of his face and into his lap. It was a piece of fruit.

“Bwuh?”

“Hungry?” the boy asked.

“Eh,” Jaskier said and wiped off the fruit with his sleeve. He looked up at the child. “Not so keen on taking a…pear? from a strange child on the street first thing in the morning.”

“It’s afternoon,” the boy said.

Jaskier looked around again and supposed that was true enough.

“You pass out here often?” the boy asked and Jaskier picked at the stem of the pear and shrugged.

“Here, there. I am a man of the city,” he said and turned the bruised pear around in his hand.

“Did you vomit before or after you passed out? Think that’s your piss or someone else’s?” the boy asked and looked over his shoulder at the cobblestones Jaskier had slept upon.

“What?” Jaskier asked and frowned, looking down at his trousers and the ground and his head jerked back up. He hadn’t been sick—or remembered being sick, but that was beside the point. The scratch of a pencil was loud in his ears, inciting a new round of pain. He knew the tell-tale scribbling when he heard it.

Jaskier kneaded his eye and leaned forward, bracing a hand on the wheel of the cart and dragged himself to his feet. He got himself a proper look at the boy who was less of a boy and more of a gangly adolescent wearing a well-fitted green tunic. Clean, well-fed. Maybe not a street urchin, but still looked like a child.

A wave of vertigo passed over Jaskier and he braced himself against the cart, watching the boy write something in his notebook. “What’re you writing?”

“Patient notes,” the boy said.

“What? Huh,” Jaskier said, his hands moving before his brain caught up, and he swiped the notebook from the kid’s lap. Name, age, weight, symptoms were left blank but the child had written down a brief physical description along with a few notes under medical history. He read: Patient has a likely history of alcohol abuse. Damage to his liver suspected. Inquire about family history??? The words swam in Jaskier’s vision. He really should go lie down after drinking some water.

“I’m a medical student,” the boy said. Jaskier squinted at him. He looked too young to be at the university.

“You look too young to be at the university,” he said.

The boy grabbed the notebook back and twirled the pencil around in his hand. “I’m almost fifteen. What are you, 10 stone?” he asked, looking Jaskier up and down.

“Right,” Jaskier said. “Good luck with that,” and turned around and began making his way back to the town. The more he moved, the more wafting smell of fried fish was going to make Jaskier hurl.

“I’m not done yet, hold on,” the boy said and Jaskier gave the urchin a sidelong glance and he held out his notebook again. “Do you have a headache?”

“Splitting,” Jaskier said.

“Nausea?” the boy asked.

“Sloshy,” Jaskier said.

“Sensitivity to light?”

“I am quite hungover, thank you so much for your concern,” Jaskier said and turned a corner and slipped the pear into the palm of a old woman sitting on a stoop.

“Ohhh, I do have something for that,” the boy said. Jaskier almost didn’t bother stopping but the hopeful note in the boy’s voice seeped through the nausea. The promise of relief was too much to ignore. He turned around and the boy had leaned against the side of the building and was digging through his shoulder bag. “9? 10 stone? 9 stone just to be safe,” the boy said.

Jaskier wandered back. “I don’t have any coin for any tinctures you have there.”

“I don’t need coin. I only need to finish my report after you take this,” the boy said. He muttered something to himself and held out a large glass bottle at Jaskier. “Drink that water first. All of it.”

“You’re kind of bossy for a kid,” Jaskier said and uncapped the bottle, giving it a wary sniff.

The boy shrugged and uncapped a light green vial and poured a little on his finger and gave it a lick, nodding at himself and then handed Jaskier the vial. “It’s mostly ginger,” the boy said.

“So why should I trust you? Especially if I’m not paying you for this little remedy here.”

“I get extra credit for helping the stupid and poor,” the boy said. Jaskier frowned. The fucking nerve of the kid. Jaskier has now upgraded him from child to nuisance kid.

“Some bedside manners you have there,” Jaskier said.

“We haven’t covered that unit yet,” the nuisance kid said.

“Ah, well then,” Jaskier said. “To your education,” he said and raised the vial in a toast and tipped it back. It tasted…green.

He frowned and dropped the vial in the boy’s open shoulder bag. He tongued the roof of his mouth. “You make this yourself?” he asked. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Shani, and yes I made it. What good would it be if I had someone else do my homework for me? That’s how you’re supposed to learn, by doing it,” Shani said.

“If only all students were as sensible as you. Good job,” Jaskier said, and plucked the notebook from the bag and went flipped through the pages. Patients A through D were people Shani must be picking up from the streets, judging from the notes.

Jaskier helped himself to the pencil but Shani grabbed it and the notebook.“It’s not very nice to dig through somebody’s stuff.”

“Fair enough. What else do you need from me?” Jaskier said. His stomach rumbled loud enough that Shani’s eyes widened slightly. “Let’s keep moving away from the fried smells, eh?” he suggested and began walking, motion Shani to come along.

“Alright. What’s your name?” Shani said, flipping to a page in his notebook and following after Jaskier.

“Julian Alfred Panktraz,” he said. “P-A-N-K-R-A-T-Z,” he added helpfully.

“Age?”

“Timeless.”

Shani made a noise and Jaskier glanced over, watching him write down refuses to disclose age.

“Any other symptoms I should know about pertaining to your current health?” the nuisance kid asked.

“I’ve got an itch on my left toe that won’t go away—probably because of my boots. I seem to have lost most of my coin in a drinking game and I’m not quite sure whose company I enjoyed last night, but the memory problems are probably because of the drinking. I have trouble sleeping because I can’t seem to work out the third verse of my current ballad, but that’s more symptomatic of inherit heartbreak and loss of a decades-long friendship. Or maybe the heartache is from the terror seeping into Oxenfurt because of the war that’s happened—or the war that’s likely to come. No one seems to care how Oxenfurt has changed. The people aren’t like they were before. I don’t know why everybody else can’t see it. I mean, I know why…pretending something isn’t happening is easier than acknowledging the truth. I don’t know how to tell the story of what’s happening because… Fear isn’t easy to… to deal with when you’re alone,” he said, stymied by the next wave of nausea.

Shani paused his scribbling, clearly not knowing what to make of that.

Jaskier rubbed his face—his lips felt funny—and and shrugged. “You asked.”

“Oookay,” he said.

Shani closed his notebook and nodded at Jaskier. “I think I have everything I need. How do you feel?”

Jaskier patted himself down. Still nauseous, but not actively feeling like he was going to vomit. “Better. Top marks for you,” he said and Shani grinned.

Let's Get Real Fic Writer Asks

[tennera]

About 16 months ago. I knew a guy through chat. We kind of like having instant connection and we really planned to get married really soon. But destiny is not on our side.

We have to part because the day he went back to his father is also the day his father told him that he had chosen a bride for him. His father has engaged him with his friend's daughter.

I don't know why at that time I kind of already like prepared for every possible thing to happen and it really did happen. We discussed it about how we're gonna face it and turned out there was nothing we could do except parted with each other.

It was really painful as that time I've just got up from my past pain and it kinda happened again. So I really wanna let out all the emotional burden that I felt at that time very fast.

I couldn't even work. My tears would run automatically even when I was in front of people so I tried hard to avoid people during that break up so people don't see me crying for no reason.

After work, I would go anywhere and I cried myself out loud at the traffic light multiple times and also at the parking lot at the park as that's the only place I could go and let myself out of all the emotional burst. I wanna get rid of those feeling fast coz I know it's just gonna destroy me if I let it control me for too long.

In my wise thinking, I know I have to stop doing that. I have to do something to let my emotional burden go away but in more control manner so that I didn't get sick or bedridden again.

Then I started writing on a platform where I told stories in the imagery perspective if I had someone, I would do this and do that with him. I also told stories about what I do at the current moment, well basically about my daily life.

At first, my stories were about our dialogues, our moments together and about what happened from pre to post breakup. Then I continued with stories describing all the fantasy about what my love would be about.

Well, my writing does catch someone's attention and eventually he is my love of life now. Then, I stopped writing on that platform coz I'm healed already and I just wanna focus on both of us.

So guys. This story might give you an idea of a way on how you wanna let out your emotion. Maybe you can try this method too. Writing something or anything to sooth your soul coz whatever happens, it's still us ourselves that carry all the loads. Somehow we need to let the load go so we can continue our life better.

What is in the past are things that we should take it as a life learning process. Put aside hatred and grudge coz it will only restrain our life from moving forward. Even if it's very painful to us but life is a lesson itself and it's what makes us today.

• Diari Thalia Sara •

[franklyshipping]

You know who I think would be the best of unlikely friends? Harold, Dr. Iplier, and Engineer! Now, how on Earth are these egos in anyway getting along, let alone be besties? Google.

Back when there was a handful of egos, Dr. Iplier was the only one who kept maintenance of the Googles and Bing. He'd schedule appointments to check up on their synthetic skin for any wear and tears, inspect their hardware and replace parts if needed, and clean up any spills that may or may not have happened, whether it was from Google malfuctioning, or he forgot to hook something back up. As much as he cares for the androids, it was already frustrating keeping maintenance for one, and there was 5 of them!

Soon, as more egos arrived to the manor, Harold would bond with the Googles, since the egos would ask the bots to clean (and they did a half ass job out of spite) so Harold was there and helped with the workload and despite his ridiculous standards, the bits respected the way he took on the workload and assisted him ("begrudgingly" they say, but they have a small soft spot)

One day Harold would notice one of the bots would be gone, and when asked, found out about their maintenance appointments. Of course his curiousity got the better of him, wanting to see the innards of the androids and how they work (but also an excuse to hold Dr. Iplier to a high medical standard)

He joined one of the Google's appointments and was horrified when he saw the inside. Dust was built up inside from over the years and the wires were all tangled inside!!! He demanded another Google to come in to guide him on what wires go where as he cleaned with canned air and isopropyl alcohol. Of course he couldn't blame Dr. Iplier, man was stressed out and had no idea and the only knowledge he had was from the Googles assisting him. But the thing about the androids is that their wires and innards were very sensitive. Poor Red had to be held down by all his brothers AND the special cuffs Dr. Iplier made for them as Harold scrubbed a tooth brush over his corroded wiring. The others laughed in the moment before realizing that they were probably the same way, when it came time for their appointments, they shut themselves down to spare themselves from the intense tickle torture.

Except for Bing, wanting to prove he was better than any of the Googles, he willingly stayed awake for his examination. And my goodness, Harold almost passed out when he saw Bing. Crumbs of old chips coated his wiring, along with even more dust from being outside all the time, clogging up his filters. Bing had to be given multiple breaks to stop himself from overheating from how bad it tickled. Eventually though, Harold and Dr. Iplier encouraged him that it's ok to shut down for the process and that he didn't need to prove himself to Google.

So from then on, Harold joined Dr. Iplier for any maintenance appointments, which lightened up since the cleaning would make them function even better than before, like a brand new bot! And because the cleanings were more often, there wasn't as much build up, if anything a small spray from a can of air would do the trick. Though if any android was being particularly cheeky, they might get a cotton swab soaked in isopropyl alcohol in their wiring.

As for their skin, the Googles do just fine cleaning after themselves externally, but sometimes Oliver will personally ask Harold to "help" he just adores when he wiggles a cotton swab in his navel and between his toes!

But despite this happy ending, there was still the issue of maintenance when something went wrong. That is until Engineer arrived. Once again, fascinated by the androids, he asked to observe their maintenance and was able to provide troubleshooting symptoms that the Googles didn't even think of! Engineer would also often have some spare parts from his ship, upgrading the droids even further! Engineer offered to take in place of Dr. Iplier to check up on the androids, and so he and Harold would bond and work together often.

Dr. Iplier thought this would tremendously save his work schedule, and it did! He loved the androids, but not having to check up on them made up so much more time for himself at work! However, over time that free time became awfully lonely. He started to miss the androids, even if he still saw and talked to them. Something about working on them brought them so close for so long, he developed a platonic attachment to each one. Seeing this, Oliver was the first to offer himself to the doctor, excusing that because he was the most human, he could still use a check up or physical. Oh how Dr. Iplier lit up at the offer and took Oli in for a tickly physical. Bing was next, and the others followed. They excuse it as despite being a machine, Dr. Iplier treated them like people, just as he would treat any other patient

So now, Engineer does maintenance, Harold does cleanings, and Dr. Iplier does their physicals

AKSKGKDKDK THIS IS ABSOLUTELY ADORABLE GENIUS I LOVE THIS!!! 😆💜