#that or it just gave ne. brain damage or something.

[javierduffy]

please give me javieran thots and ideas (drawing ideas or otherwise. just talk to me about them pleasw) pelase lelase pleas e i miss them so bad but my head has been so empty layely because of depression

[nonuggetshere]

Would u be willing to share any tidbits about the faaf variant where Flower goes thru with the sealing?? (I’m p sure u said that exists and it’s not just the brainrot of my post sealing au that’s telling my brain that)

CRACKS MY KNUCKLES

WITH PLEASURE

So there's two variants, one where they break out after 5 years or one that follows Embrace The Void ending

After they're sealed, Hornet delivered the message they left to their boyfriends and family. They're shocked to see the goddamn princess at their doorstep at first. There are lots of tears and Hornet apologises for not being able to change their mind, but she's quickly hushed by Flower's partners and Lummis' parents. They share their grief and comfort each other, and Hornet is just as readily accepted into the family as her sibling was.

She tries to tell their father the truth, which is what they planned from the beginning because they were aware it was very likely they wouldn't be able to fight Radiance off forever, but Pale King wasn't taking their loss well so when faced with the possibility that the child he mourned all over again was alive all this time... He just couldn't accept it. It hurt too much to even consider. He couldn't. He had to be right.

This led to him and Hornet quickly falling out as she desperately tried to get him to believe her and he eventually snapped at her about being delusional and disrespecting her dead sibling's sacrifice. He immediately regretted it but the damage was done and she stormed off. Their relationship was never the same again, even when she gave up on nagging him, and once she grew up she just stopped visiting him or White Lady in the palace altogether, save for very sporadic occasions.

She spends a lot of time with Flower's family, practically becoming a part of it. Nobody back home understands what she's going through, nobody but she knew her sibling as a person, nobody knew who they were or how much they meant to her. But these people do, they're going through the same pain. And it's a little easier when they've got each other to rely on.

They frequently visit the temple and sit in front of the egg, talking to Flower as if they could hear them and catching them up with things that happened. They don't know if Flower can actually hear them, but it helps them cope, and if there is a small chance that they do they wouldn't want them to feel alone. (I have. A little dialogue written up for Hornet's visit, if you want your heart torn out)

So in one branch, Flower manages to win against Radiance after 5 years of torment.

She manages to break the chains and tries to stagger out of the egg, but Flower fights with her for control, they stumble over to their sword and stab themself. She wuns back control soon after, but realising they're losing Flower reaches out into that vast emptiness they always felt inside them since the day they were born. For that ancient, sleeping thing they were always terrified of.

The Lord of Shades is a separate character here. It's an ancient higher being, an actual sub-type of one that I very originally called void beings, it was the last one and its kind died with it after it lost to Radiance many eons ago; that is, until PK started to fuck around with its corpse and created the vessels. It basically allowed them to reawaken (since death doesn't work the same way if you were never alive to begun with) and it helps Flower, as in it possesses them and absolutely wrecks Radiance's shit. (I actually wrote this entire fight if you wanna see, I just don't wanna plop it down here bc its LONG)

Flower passes out and wakes up shortly after with no recollection of what happened past their initial fight with Radiance. They stagger back to their feet, and find that not only is She gone but the seals are also gone and the door is wide open. So they stagger back to the White Palace.

Pale King first figures out something's up when Radiance's dying scream literally shakes the entire kingdom to its core. Then, he gets the news that the dreamers are awake. He sends Dryya to fetch the queen from the gardens and talks with the other knights about going to check the temple, only for Dryya to return shortly after, telling him that the vessel has returned.

He rushes to see, and sure enough there they are. They look at him, for a moment everybody's tense, until they drop into a bow...and then shortly after pass the fuck out.

They're carried off to a room and taken care of.

The Pale King has to juggle a lot as the entire court just goes into chaos, and he's talking to the dreamers and a few other people, trying to figure out what the hell happened, when Hornet storms in and slaps him right in the face. She basically goes "I told you so" then storms off to go see her sibling.

They recover over a few weeks and when they wake up their little sister is pressed up close to their side fast asleep. They shake her awake and the two have a very happy reunion, and Flower gushes about how much she's grown only to then immediately make a joke about her height.

They've got a lot of shit to heal from and their parents avoid them like the plague after finally realising they are alive, so they've got that entire thing to worry about. And then there's also the fact that the Shade Lord never left and they have a fucked up venom-like situation on their hands. And they also have to figure out the entire thing of being the new god of dreams now.

That all can wait for now, though, as they finally get to go home and reunite with their lovers. There are a lot of tears and hugs and kisses, and they apologise so much for leaving them, but Petunia and Lummis quickly hush them saying they are just happy to have them back.

Another branch follows more along the lines of Embrace The Void ending, except more characters are alive, mainly the five great knights, The Pale King, as well as Broken Vessel (Spring) and Greenpath Vessel (Basil). Spring and Basil end up joining Ghost for a large portion of their travels, until the tail end of it where they just sit it out in Dirtmouth after Spring gets injured, leaving Ghost to go beat up their dad for the second part of the charm, go to the abyss, all that jazz.

After the infection dies out, it's mainly PK and his knights that try to rebuild the kingdom, while Hornet takes care of her sibling up in Dirtmouth.

Petunia and Lummis are also still alive, mostly because Hornet convinced Grimm to take them in as part of the troupe and troupe members age differently in this AU. I don't wanna get too much into it, basically Lum and Petunia and some of their family get to live longer but don't retain their memories of the time in the troupe after they're released by Grimm. I just need them to reunite with Flower okay.

Hornet also tells their father and the knights that Flower died to keep them from seeing them, and PK doesn't realise this isn't true until he goes to see his wife and she tells him she can still sense them up on the surface. He figures Hornet must have had a good reason to lie though so he doesn't pry.

Flower deals with a lot here and is much more bitter and angry and quick to choose violence, which actually terrifies them. They apologise so much to their partners, because they left their entire lives behind for them and they're not even the same person that they fell in love with. Lummis and Petunia of course tell them that's rubbish.

Basically, Flower's an emotional mess and has anger issues now that they've got to work through.

I could go in more detail but I've been writing for around an hour now and my thoughts are all over the place KDBDJDJD, if ya wanna know specifics of things that would happen like idk their reunion with their parents, just lmk

[masked-rat]

Timelines in Marathon Infinity

I'm pretty sure we're travelling between *parallel universes*, not doing one- universe time travel.

General blocking:

Ne Cede Malis (and M1 and M2; last level in the "core" timeline)

Rise Robot Rise thru Aie Mak Sicur*

ACME Station thru Carroll Street Station

Naw Man, He's Close thru You're Wormfood, Dude*

By Committee thu Aye Mak Sicur

Defenders are present on all "bad ending" levels except Ne Cede Malis and Wormfood, despite recent theory that they don't show up. They do show up. The big differences are that key parts of the station are sealed off, and more importantly there is *no* Farcast pattern chip.

You did notice that for both Aie Mak Sicur and Carroll Street Station, you conveniently dropped in right where the first chip would be. And it's not there. Whoops, thassa problem.

It's theoretically possible, in a co-op game- to bring a chip forward from Robot World Arena. Or use a save game editor to give you one? The first chip socket is still present on this level, and the terminal close by it. I'd kind of like to read it.

Where Are Monstairs in Dreams always gave me "bad ending" vibes as well, with Aie Mak Sicur possibly being a *second* bad ending. Maybe the timeline splits or something.

Would've been ironic if Carroll Street Station hadn't been the bad ending, and that it'd been on Lh'owon. ACME Station, the "scanning buoy," would've been the Jjaro station the whole time. *raucous laughter*

I have a feeling there's something going on between Naw Man, He's Close; Foe Hammer; and Hang Brain. The vacbobs on Naw Man, he's Close don't carry fusion batteries we can use, and the ones on Foe Hammer do (but are also somehow not flagged "Dies in Flames" in the level physics).

I mean, I think the canon explanation is Durandal yoinking your teleport signature, which would explain some things later on, but I have a hunch Foe Hammer is in fact a different timeline by itself.

Wormfood.

*shakes head*

The Troopers are bobs. The hunters are vacbobs. The Wyr'kyn'kakntr is awake, and active, and it's noodling reality so bad you just shot your way through whatever was left of Durandal's bobs. You notice there's also no Defenders *anywhere* on this damn level? And it's the only one of the bad endings to have Troopers *at all*?

The Arthur Frane term is your OSHIT moment where you realize just how bad things have gotten.

Final Timeline Breakdown:

Tfear wants to get more humans to surrender (the Pfhor are slavers, after all), sends a possessed drone to plant a fake distress message from Tycho in the network. By Committee happens.

One Thousand Thousand Slimy Things happens. I want to know more about the Hindmost Creche (this is the second time a Creche is mentioned in Pfhor culture; it also gets mentioned in Aie Mak Sicur). Damn you, Tfear, my minor was Anthropology! Give me something to work with!

Sometime while you're doing A Converted Church in Venice, Italy; the bobs finally manage to rouse some iteration of Thoth, although I get the feeling this Thoth is itself incomplete. But, it detects the pattern you brought with you from a prior timeline, and realizes you could be useful. This is why there's two different exit terms: one if you go out thru the stairs and take the extreme long way around, vs. another you get if you take the hell-ivator.

Son of Grendel makes almost *zero* sense, in a Watsonian *or* Doylist sense. There's an artifact (and yeah, there's actually a couple of fake artifacts you can find if you totally miss the real one). *shrug*

Strange Aeons and Bagged Again happen. Not a lot to work with. K'alia gets referred to as a "sullen star" and I kinda want to know what that means beyond just imagery, but anyway. Oh, and Tycho managed to escape containment during the orbital bombardment. You do notice that the Son of Grendel site is now badly damaged, right? Tfear is probably shitting bricks right now.

The Big Time arena fight, followed by Aye Mak Sicur. Worth noting, you *can* bring a chip forward, which means you *could* skip the second one (or the first one, if you don't fancy facing the center arena a third time- the second chip is only requires timing and a passable knowledge of the map layout- the door by the first terminal is now open).

Also, *two* dummied- out terminals. There's the old S'phit Y'sa Mnr term that we all know about, but there's also one on Slimy Things in the first *non- secret* bob ammo stash (the one that doesn't have the 3x can). Given that it's sized for Water terms, I wouldn't be surprised if the level wasn't originally a Water level and somebody changed it.

Or it could've been a fun Media Munger case. Water architecture but sewage liquids. I don't think anyone put Media Munger to good use, but then again I also never really messed with the expansions that needed a shapes patch.

M1 had blue and orange Troopers- probably the same CLUT as the Fighters.

I do like how Infinity lets you play with the Spanker and flamethrower a lot earlier, instead of reserving them for endgame like M2 did. But at least they didn't do like AvP 2 where you use the Sniper Rifle for literally *one* game- ending shot.

[simp4fictionalguys]

Loving the new hype that the JJK anime is bringing!! Can I ask for Yuji x strong fem reader? How would he react to her getting hurt and how would he want to be comforted?? I adore your writing. Keep up the good work ✨

Hey! A Itadori request 🤧 best boy for sure haha. I loved today’s episode! Thank you so much for the compliment! I’m glad that you like my writing, I was a little nervous to start this without knowing if my writing was good enough and not mediocre but comments like this makes my day better and excited to keep writing!

Fushiguro and Y/n were the ones assigned to search for the Sukuna finger. That’s the moment when they met Itadori.

It was a weird meeting if you think about it. However, after that, Y/n and Itadori had been attached to the hip.

The two of them got along almost immediately. They relationship based in playful fighting and teasing. Y/n trying to make Itadori blush without avail (the boy was too oblivious for his own good).

The two of them usually trained together. When they first started their training, Itadori was nervous to do it. What if he hits her too hard? Or if she ends up with a nasty injure?

However, while overthinking, Y/n had already take him down.

Their training sessions consisted in Y/n betting Itadori up. He hasn’t been able to win against her, not even once.

Without realizing it, the two of them had caught feelings. In a pretty Itadori way, he had purred his feelings in one of their training sessions without knowing it. It made Y/n blush and unable to focus at the start, however, Itadori didn’t realize his opportunity and just walked over to her and kissed her lips.

Their friends had laugh and tease them at how Itadori had confessed. Y/n didn’t mind really. She was happy with Itadori now.

From then on, the two of them haven’t had to worry about the other. The two of them being sent to missions together with the other two first years.

Today was the same. The four of them had been sent on a mission together.

“Here’s where the Sukuna finger is suppose to be?” Fushiguro turned to look at Itadori who had his arm in Y/n shoulder while walking. He deadpanned.

“You’re our radar. You should know already.”

Y/n stifle a giggle from her friend remark. Her boyfriend turned to look at her with a fake glare.

They keep walking in the area. They were walking around an hospital, the area was surrounded by trees though. Something weird for an hospital to be.

It didn’t take long for the curses to began acknowledging their presence. The four first years decided to separate in pairs. Itadori and Y/n, while Fushiguro went with Kugisaki.

“Yuuji.” Y/n called at her boyfriend while following the curse running away from them.

Itadori glazed at her showing he was listening to her.

“Don’t let Sukuna out...”

Before the mission, Gojo had pulled Y/n out and talked to her privately.

“I need to ask for a favor Y/n-Chan!”

Y/n crossed her arms at her teacher childish tone. He just smiled at her.

It surprised her how serious he got a second after smiling.

“Don’t let Sukuna take control over Itadori’s body.”

“Huh? Why? I mean, haven’t he taken over before?”

“Yeah, but we don’t have to get used to his strength.”

Itadori hummed at her. His attention was in the curse in front of them. Her words weren’t something he retained in his head.

After her intermission, she put all her attention on the curse. The two of them had to be able to exorcise it without problem but the thing was too fast.

The chasing kept going for a long time. Neither of the two paying attention to their surroundings at the moment. The curse had been able to attract them just the way it wanted.

It took her a while to understand what was this weak curse doing. It had lead them to the boss. The curse that had the Sukuna finger.

It was too late though. The bigger and stronger curse got out of her hiding spot. It had a humanoid body but one could tell that the thing wasn’t human.

The first thing Y/n noticed was how the former curse they were chasing joined the bigger curse’s body

‘So it was part of it... Gross.’

Itadori had run from the left while Y/n went from the right. They strategy was simple. Land fast hits while dodging their attacks.

It worked at the start. However, the longer they hit it, the bigger it got.

“Why aren’t we dealing damage?!”

“Maybe because we’re attacking with cursed energy...”

Itadori turned to look at his girlfriend with a bewildered look.

“How else are we suppose to attack?!”

Y/n straighten her posture. She closed her fist in front of her. In a fats movement she had hit the curse with her pure raw strength. The curse hit back but she was able to dodge and go back to Itadori’s side.

“Why did you do that!” Itadori got close to her checking to see if she was injured or some fatal wound. Y/n smiled at him taking his hands off of her telling him that she was fine.

“Sorry, but look.” She pointed to the curse. Itadori turned around to see that Y/n’s punch had made some damage to it.

“I hit it without curse energy...” She got in position again. The enemy had began charging towards them.

Itadori got in fighting stance too.

‘So no curse energy...’ His fist had no longer curse energy. ‘I’ll have to hit it with just my strength!’

Just like their former strategy, they began landing several hits to the curse, this time without cursed energy.

It worked. The pair had manage to weaken the curse. However, in a moment of distraction, the curse had been able to land a hit.

Y/n saw the curse directing its hit in Itadori’s way. Her mind erase anything not related to her boyfriend, her body moving on its own.

Itadori saw everything in slow motion. One moment he was seeing his enemy fist directing to his face and a second later he saw Y/n take the hit for him.

Y/n feel her body making it’s way to the ground. Itadori’s reflexes saved her from the fall. Now in his arms he retreated a few steps from the curse in a frantic state to check on Y/n.

“Y/n! Hey!” He shook her body a little. “Y/n! Answer me!”

The girl opened her eyes a little. Her head turning to Itadori.

“Yuuji... Im fine...” Y/n tried to stand up but her body gave up against her will.

Yuuji bit his lip at his girlfriend state. He was mad at himself. He should have seen the attack coming his way! If he had he could have dodge and the two of them could have exorcised the curse already!

The descontrol in his emotions had given Sukuna a chance to take over his body without Itadori realizing it.

“Yuuji...! No!” It frustrate her how her voice sound so small. Sadly, she couldn’t do much since her body had run out of energy, her consciousness slowly fading away.

“You care too much about her, brat! Your emotions leaded to my freedom!”

Sukuna had easily defeated the curse. It caught his attention how Itadori hadn’t made an attempt to go back to his body.

Sukuna’s loud and wicked laugher filled the area.

Kugisaki and Fushiguro arrived at the scene. It took them a minute to let the imagen sick in their brain. Fushiguro sprinted to Y/n’s body while Kugisaki followed suit.

Fushiguro had taken Y/n’s body, Kugisaki was in position if Sukuna tried to do something.

“Itadori! Y/n is fine!” Fushiguro yelled for Itadori to come back. Y/n didn’t need Sukuna right now. She needed Itadori Yuuji, her boyfriend !

“Don’t let Sukuna take all the control!” Kugisaki joined Fushiguro trying to get Itadori to come back.

“She ne-“

“Yuuji...! Please!” With her last strength, Y/n was able to call for him.

Sukuna tsked. Itadori had taken control again. The first thing his brain had commanded was to run to Y/n and take her to Jujutsu High to take treatment as soon as possible.

Y/n had woke up in her bed. After the treatment, they had let her rest in her room. She groaned at the pain all over her body. She tried to moved to get out of bed but there was an additional weight in her. Taking a better look at herself she saw her boyfriend cuddling in her side.

Y/n smiled at how cute Itadori looked cuddle beside her like a cat. She run her fingers in his hair gently. Itadori began to stir from his sleep. His movements still affected by his sleepy mode, his eyes landed in his girlfriend’s smiling face.

Y/n was amused at his reaction. His sleepiness had faded faster that lighting, now being replace by an excited Itadori.

“You woke up!” He had throw himself in her without realizing it. Y/n groaned again at the force.

Itadori let go in a hurry, it was funny how fast his body moved trying to check for any more injuries or wounds in her body.

“Yuuji...” She tried to stop him but Itadori didn’t listen to her. “Yuuji! I’m fine!”

Y/n stopped his frantic moves taking his face in her hands. She tried to make eye contact but Itadori kept avoiding her eyes.

“Yuuji... Look at me please...”

Slowly and with trembling eyes, Itadori had focus her eyes on hers.

“I’m sorry... I was so scared when I saw you laying in my arms...!”

Y/n offered a gentle smile trying to ease his stress but Itadori kept getting worked up.

“And I could do anything! And Sukuna ha-“

Itadori was unable to kept talking with his girlfriend lips on his. He corresponded almost instantly. Trying to drown his worries, making sure that she was alive, beside him.

When the need for oxygen had presented, they separate from each other. Y/n got ride of the little tears escaping from his eyes gently with her thumb, he hadn’t realized they were there.

“Why don’t we cuddle?” Itadori nodded at her words, laying gently beside her.

“It wasn’t your fault Yuuji. I chose to protect you. And I’ll happily do it again.”

Itadori hugged her tighter at her words.

“Thank you...”

She stroked his hair gently. Itadori relaxed at the sweet action.

“You know...”

Itadori turned to look at her from his spot. Y/n avoided his eyes with a red face.

“You look kinda hot when Sukuna takes over your body...”

Itadori looked at her with a deadpanned expression.

“Gross Y/n.”

[cudan2]

We’re Only Human

Spring Break Shadowing Part 4

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,040

Summary: It’s the last day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen, but you’ve come to realize a little more about how you feel towards him. Cue crushes and a little bit of chaos along the way.

A/N: I finished the semester and can actually dedicate time to writing this again because instead of being on spring break, I’m now on winter break. I also chopped this part in half because it was probably going to be over 6,000 words otherwise and that’s just a lot compared to the previous ones. Bear with me, guys. Another note - I’m thinking about posting this on Ao3 but will rewrite it because I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this in present tense lol. 

Anyways, this is #8 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

You don’t know how it happened, but time is on your side and you’re running early this morning. The sun has just risen and casts a warm glow across the hospital as you make you way to the Starbucks, determined to be the one to buy Doctor Cullen his drink for once.

Meeting him here every morning has become a tradition, a tradition that involves him getting you breakfast every day you’ve shadowed him this week. The two of you would chat about various topics while walking to where ever he had to be next. Sometimes you would prod his brain with more medical-related questions, occasionally he would tell stories from his past, but regardless, his every word had you captivated.

Alright, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to finally admit that you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on Doctor Cullen. To be fair though, this is your last day shadowing him and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyways. You feel a pang of disappointment at the thought, but it soon disappears when Emily greets you at the counter.  

“Hi, Y/N! Where’s the doctor today?”

“I was running early today, so I figured I’d grab both of our drinks.” You place your order and ask the barista what Doctor Cullen’s “usual” was.

“Oh that?” she laughs. “He gets boiling water. It’s a little weird, but I just assumed he makes tea with it.”

Boiling... water? You think back to the last several days and try to remember what Doctor Cullen even did with his drink. He definitely never made tea with it. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever taken a sip out of the cup before throwing it away.

“Then I’ll be adding a grande boiled water to my order,” you tell Emily and thank her before she moves on to the next person in line.

You wait to the side for your food and see Jaime standing there too. He’s wearing a backpack and a faded college sweatshirt thrown over his scrubs, and you’re reminded of how many years left of school you have before you can even call yourself a doctor. You wave to him, and he pulls an earbud out from his ear with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets you.

“Nothing much, just grabbing something to eat before the day starts. I’m surprised to see you here though. What happened to morning rounds?”

Jaime lets out what you can only discern as a mix between a hollowed laugh and a groan and tells you about forgetting his coffee at home. “Don’t even get me started on this morning. My car died on me, so I had to get an Uber. Lo and behold, there weren’t any Ubers around either, so ya boy eventually took not just a taxi, but a taxi and the train. By the time I got here, I realized my coffee was still on the counter at home, and so now I’m here.”

Damn, and you thought mornings were rough for you.

“Sorry to hear that! Did you get in trouble for being late?”

“I called Doctor Cullen myself and told him what was happening. He was so understanding, god bless, so I’m in the clear for now.

At the mention of the doctor, your thoughts instantly go back to blond tresses and a brilliant smile you already know you’ll miss when you leave the hospital for the last time today.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” you say a little too dreamily. Jaime gives you a knowing look and you rein it back in, hoping you haven’t exposed yourself already.

“You know, I think he’s going to miss you the most when you leave.” You don’t even get the chance to react when Jaime continues on, “Don’t get me wrong, Lily and I will definitely miss having you around, but the man really took a liking to you a lot faster than he did with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always kept us at an arm’s length before you came around. All of that personal stuff you get out of him would have taken him weeks to tell us before, and that’s if we’re lucky. He just seems more comfortable around you,” Jaime shrugs. His coffee is then called out, cutting off anything he wanted to say next. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!”

You take a moment to mull over what Jaime said. From your perspective, Doctor Cullen has treated you exactly the same way he does with everyone else. You don’t dare to over think what Jaime could be saying �� over thinking never leads to anything good. And yet, the damage is done. The seed has been planted and now you can’t help but wonder about what made you stand out to the doctor.

Your own order is called, and you’re pulled from your thoughts with the smell of warm food.

Now armed with two beverages and a pastry bag sandwiched between your fingers, you make your way to a nearby table to wait for Doctor Cullen. Your wait is soon cut short though, as you see him walking towards you out of your peripheral vision. The clouds shift and the sun shines through the windows again. Its golden rays pass over the doctor, and for a second, you swear you could see him shimmering in the sunlight.

You squint strangely and blink a few times. Get it together, you tell yourself. Over thinking is clearly playing some weird psychological tricks on your eyes, and you still needed to be on your A-game.

“Hey you,” he flashes that familiar smile once more when reaching the table you are settled at. “You’re early today.”

“I am. It even gave me the chance to get you your water.” You hand him the cup with a smirk, having made sure to put a sleeve on it earlier because unlike Doctor Cullen, you actually have hands that hold the risk of being burnt.

“Ah, I see Emily has divulged one of my secrets with you. Thank you, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist. Seriously, water is free at Starbucks. “Think of it as a small thank you present. It’s the least I could do for the amazing surgeon that let me follow him around for the week.”

“Hmm, I think you may have meant the amazing, extremely kind, highly skilled, and not to mention, quite dashing–”

“Okay! No need to flatter yourself,” you laugh, trying your best to refrain from rolling your eyes. In all honesty, you can’t describe him any better. Add in attractive, intelligent, compassionate, way too humble sometimes, and it would be the perfect recipe to recreate another Doctor Cullen.

From there on, your daily routine at the hospital continues without a hitch. It’s a morning filled with back to back surgeries and question after question thrown at you from the doctor. There is no doubt that he is keeping you on your toes – literally and figuratively. You have to admit though, you are pretty proud of yourself for being able to answer the majority of his questions.

Your feet swing aimlessly while you spin around in a padded chair in Doctor Cullen’s office. Your laptop is open on his desk, displaying a blank document that’s meant to be your personal statement. It has been a little over an hour since he left you here to attend a mandatory meeting and you are starting to get antsy.

Aside from several stacks of files and other various papers, the desk lacks the small trinkets you would expect to see. As a matter of fact, the office itself is surprisingly void of anything personal. There aren’t any pictures of family, friends, pets, not even of a possible wife. There are no decorations on the wall either, and if it weren’t for the leather briefcase leaning against the side of the desk, you’d never believe this office belonged to him. No wonder he spends as much time as possible outside of this dismal room.

As you continue spinning in the chair, you bring up a paper fortune teller made earlier from a sticky note. You choose a color, two subsequent numbers, and flip open the flap to reveal the fortune.

Brunch date with Dr. Cullen.

The things you do to kill time. Your friends would never let you live this down if they could see you now.

Just as you’re about to go another round with the fortune teller, the door opens and Doctor Cullen walks in. The fortune teller goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor next to you as you jump in surprise and halt the spinning.

“Sorry about the wait, Y/N. I’m afraid the meeting took longer than expected,” he says, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you nearly jumping out of your skin. Not wanting to draw attention to the fortune teller on the floor, you leave it there for now and start packing up your stuff.

“I presume you found a way to entertain yourself?”

“Kind of? I tried starting my personal statement again. It’s really not coming together,” you laugh dryly. Too preoccupied with turning off your laptop and putting it away, you don’t notice that Doctor Cullen walking around to the head of the desk where you are until it’s too late.

Oh crap, the fortune teller. Of course, he just has to notice it too and picks it up with a curious expression. You look up, and he’s standing there with it in his hand.

“Did you make this?”

You leap up from the chair and snatch it out of his hand before he can examine it any closer. There is no way in hell you’re letting him open it.

“Uh, yeah... It’s just something we used to make in elementary school – nothing special!” You try to play it off as cool as possible and slip the fortune teller into the small trash can underneath his desk. “So what’s next on the schedule?”

He takes a moment before answering you. You see his eyes study the way your fingers nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your shirt. He seemingly brushes off the interaction that occurred and responds, “Pre-op. I believe this one will be much different than the others you’ve observed this week.”

“What’s different about it?” you ask. Doctor Cullen starts to leave and holds the door open for you.

“You’ll see.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

He shuts the door and you start walking towards to the surgical department when a hand abruptly pulls you back just a little too hard. You trip over your own feet in the process and in some miraculous, but also really unlucky, sadistic, cruel-of-the-universe sort of way, land in Doctor Cullen’s arms. Goosebumps form up your arms where he’s holding you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the temperature difference or the fact that your face is only an inch away from his chest.

You are absolutely mortified to say the least. Heat begins crawling up your cheeks and if there was a witness, they would have seen you quite literally jump out of the doctor’s arms.  

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Cullen! I didn’t mean to trip and fall and–”

“No, no, please, Y/N. It was of no fault of yours. I admit, I wholly underestimated the extent of my strength in that moment.” You stare at him, still dismayed at what happened, but it seems you aren’t the only one feeling like a deer in the headlights. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” he asks, smiling meekly.

“It’s fine, these things happen. We’re only human after all, right?”

“...Right.” There’s a moment of silence that goes on for longer than you prefer, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the punchline of some inside joke. You don’t dwell on it though. There’s really only so much social embarrassment you can handle in one day. “Now, if there aren’t any more near-accidents,” he points in the opposite direction and says, “we’re headed to the children’s hospital.”

Oh.

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 23.10.20 lb

srsly vansh, go dunk that head in a bag of rice coz your one working brain cell is also malfunctioning due to water damage.

“baksh do mujhe!” sau baaton mein yeh ek baat sahi bola bhai. pls riddhima, baksh do bechaare ko. jeeena haraam kar rakha hai. iss baar nahi, just, in general.

“aag mein haath daalogi toh aag ko kuch nahi hota, lekin tumhare haath jal jaayenge. aisa na ho ki ragini ka sach suljhaate suljhaate tumhaara haal khud ragini jaisa ho jaaye.” cool, very reassuring.

ABBE YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRR HATAOOOOOO YAAAR ISS BEKAAR KURSI KO ISS ROOM SE. SAARE SHADY FUCKS ISKE PEECHE DHERA JAMAAYE BAITHE HAIN.

aur sach mein laanat hai vansh ki "baaz jaisi nazar" pe. naagin waale cheelon ko udhaar de diya kya?!?!?!!?

WHY DOES SHE FEEL THE NEED TO VOCALIZE EVERY SINGLE BRAIN FART SHE HAS?!?!?! HONESTLY I'M JUST SO SICK OF HER DUMB ASSSSSSS.

aryan like i shoulda stabbed her when i had the chance. ainvayi mom ki baaton mein aa gaya.

here also mummy is like just kill her already. she's framing it like it's coz riddhima isn't helping kabir's mission, but i suspect it's actually coz she's just sick and tired of having to put up with riddhima's bs in her peaceful-until-4-months-ago house.

“bohut daya aa rahi hai tumpe, riddhima. kyun, matlab... jaisa main keh raha tha, waise tumne kyun nahi kiya? ab dekho. so sad. aa gayi na tumhari maut?”

lolololol, he's saying it in suchhhhh a mom type "bola tha na sweater pehnne ko, ab dekho pad gayi na thand!?" tone.

this mom so dumb. she still thinks aryan is in the footage and that's why riddhima isn't handing it over??????

kabir having to spell it out; ki woh VANSH ko bachaa rahi hai, mommy dumbest.

gotta say i'm feeling this look of kabir's. the haircut, the pants, the boots. he just needs to be wearing one of those shoulder holster thingies, and mmmmmhmmmmm. mama likeyyyyy.

aao chalo, iss show ka olympic sport khelein: MIND GAMES. 

lollllllllllllllllll his overacting. i truly love him. best character hai yeh iss faltu show ka.

the most relatable riddhima has ever been: making this face when her snake ex has called to check on "how you're doing???????? i'm just worried about you!!!!" nahi chahiye bey teri sahaanubhooti.

omggggggggggggggggg her dumb ass told him about the footage and that vansh is in it holding ragini at gunpoint. re devaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.

after telling him that vansh is in it holding ragini at gunpoint she's like BITCH I TOLD YOU VANSH IS NOT A KILLERRRRR

same, kabir. same.

she agreed to hand it over to kabir. god. maybe vansh does deserve to go to jail. not for his other supposed crimes, but just for his stupidity of marrying this one and letting her run around like a khula saand in his life.

lmaooooooooooooooooo vansh's face when he saw her.

a very niche meme that probably only @ratnas-musings​ (and if there are any other mallus/mallu movie watchers lurking here) will get.

le, dadi is here with yet another dhaarmik task. diye PRAJWALIT karo, it seems.

alllllllllll the men of this show are such a Big Mood today.

vansh knows she's taadofying him and is like haan maloom hai main bohut hot hoon, tum apna dhyaan kaam pe rakho.

vansh getting some shocking news. prolly that CSK kal bhi haar gayi. he’ll have to redo his whole fantasy team on dream11 again.

lo, phone bachaane jao toh bhi suno. man, she should just let his ass be put in jail.

dadi is here for some cherish your wifeeeeeeee gyaan. and is talking about something called a "vijay tilak" that they need to do together in the evening???? MAN WTF KINDA NEVER HEARD OF RASAMS ARE THESE?????

(googling "vijay tilak" just gave me a bhojpuri movie, so srsly, IS THIS A REAL THING???????)

he has had enough of this real life broadcast of aastha tv and is just like g2g byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

this one is saaf saaf lying to dadi ki she's going to mandir. bhagwan ka naam leke apne ex se milne jaa rahi hai, paap lagegaaaaaaaa tumheeeee riddhimaaaaaaa!

oh dang, i didn't think bhagwaan would dispense punishment this swiftly???!!!!?!?!?!?????

oh, it's these two. huh. guess god works in mysterious ways.

adlskjdflsdjfldskfjlsdkjfldskfjlsd they stashed her in his trunk and he drove away with her.

i am legitttttttttttt loling at the panic attack this paplu taplu are having.

lmaooooooooooooooooooooooooo riddhima waking up and being like hmmmmmm, pata nahi kyun, iss dickyyyyyyy mein baithke pakoreeee khaane ka bada mann kar raha hai. 🤔🤔🤔 (if you know, you know.)

pakore toh nahi mile, thodi hawa hi khaa le.

le, itna drive karke, ghoom phir ke, waapas apne hi ghar ke storeroom mein pohunch gaya kya yeh????

yes, good. follow him around all sneakily. it's not like you haven't had TWO (2) wholeass fights about this exacttttttttt issue in the last few hours.

she's trying to talk herself outta it, but..........

yup. she hears a woman's voice and is like CHULHE MEIN JAAYE BHAROSAAAAAAAAAA. I GOTS TO KNOW RIGHT NOW.

vansh is threatening some chick to drink water. ha, and riddhima thought she was special!!!!

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand riddhima is FINALLYYYYYYY convinced ki vansh ne ragini ko nahi maara. because to the surprise of ABSOLUTELY NO ONE but ms-single-brain-cell, ragini is alive.

[typicalmidnightsoul]

ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʙʟɪɴᴋ, ᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ’ʟʟ ᴍɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ - Chapter 1

𝒯𝒽𝑒𝓎 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓃𝒶

Mafia/Assassin AU 

After the prince of Merchants dies his wife takes up his mantle and his empire of criminals, yet now the government locked his wife in jail but the princess of merchants is too clever to be held down. Nesta ran away from Velaris after Feyre tried to control her. She made a name for herself that people respect but now she is in trouble and her mother demands Feyre to get her back. Cassian goes but the shit she has gotten herself into will take a long time to sort out. one catch though, she has 96 hours to live.

This is for the anon with the request to post this on tumblr <3 my tumblr’s messing up so I couldn’t post it with your message on top but I love you Anon!!!!! Thank you for the request!! I’m glad you enjoyed my story!!!

“Hey mom.” Feyre pursed her lips at the female in orange in front of here. Adelaide put her handcuffed hands on the table. She signalled to the guard to get out.

“I probably know the answer to this, but why mom did a prison guard just follow your command.”

Adelaide leaned back, “I have most people here on payroll.”

Feyre groaned, “Only because you’re the princess of merchants.”

After their dad died, their mother in desperation took up his mantle, people feared their mother 10 times more then they feared their father.

“Touché. But anyway… Your sister is in danger.”

Feyre sat up, attentive, “Nesta called a couple of days ago and said she was fine.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, “Feyre I am your mother, if you think you can hide the fact that you tried to control Nesta’s life and therefore she ran away from Velaris and is now one of the most dangerous people on the street. Don’t play dumb, Feyre. But whatever I don’t care about that anymore, what matters now is that Nesta is being hunted down by some very bad people, she has come in possession of a substance that is very dangerous.”

“What shall I do?”

“Well, I was going to handle it my way but I know how much that upset you last time…”

Feyre stood up, “The last time you tried to handle things, you killed people…Nesta can handle herself and she won’t like my meddling.”

“You’re gonna risk your sister’s life because you don’t want to upset her?!” She leaned back smirking, “Guess I’ll just have to send my people down there.”

Feyre relented, “Fine, but whichever one of my friends goes, and they’ll tell Nesta that you sent them. And if my friends don’t want to go then I will. But, please, don’t handle this you’re way.”

“Fine. Who are you planning on sending?” Feyre knew that look.

“Ok mother who do you want me to send?”

“Cassian and one of my people.”

Feyre scoffed, “Cassian?! She’ll rip him apart.”

“And he’ll survive. No one else will be able to manage her temper. She’s my daughter, I know her best.”

“Who else are you planning on sending?”

“Jonah. But he’ll join after, on my orders.”

Feyre flinched. Their half-brother whose existence was unknown to her until very recently, he hated Feyre that hate deepened after that issue with Nesta. But he loved Nesta to bits, and Nesta listened to him. Feyre looked up at the mastermind in front of her.

She was going to send Cassian to take the brunt of her anger and Jonah to calm both of them down.

“Fine. I’ll let Cassian know.”

Before she could go her mother stopped her one more time, "Feyre."

"Get your sister back."

----------------

Nesta ran through the depot. She swiped the card given to her by her source to open the door. A card of highest clearance, her mother would have questions.

“Take a left,” Clare spoke into her ear through comms.

“Clare there are billions of trucks in here.”

“The truck you’re looking for is in the far left, serial number is 234 LMX9.”

“Where is everyone else?!”

“You tripped an alarm; they’re knocking out all the guards who saw it. They’re coming now.”

She got out her handgun and shot the trucks locks on the door busting it open as she climbed in an alarm went off.

“Oh shit Nes! One of the guards pressed the alarm before Helion could make the kill.”

“Its fine I’ve got the case. Just tell them all to get their ass down here.”

She heard footsteps; Vassa, Cresseida, Audrey and Helion came down. Their faces had trickles of blood but they were in one piece.

“You’re all idiots. Come on we need to go.”

“Nesta you leave, Hybern is on our tail you need to get out with that.” Audrey said.

“No offence Cuz but I’m not leaving without you. Actually you guys are leaving before me.”

“What why?”

“Because if Beron finds out we just stole from him our shot for going undercover is gone. I’m alone in this now. We regroup later. You guys need to handle the Queens.”

Audrey nodded, “If you don’t get out and I don’t get a call by midnight that you’re safe I’m coming straight back.”

“Fine you witch now gets lost.”

They all piled into the car leaving Nesta. Nesta had one more thing she needed to find. She went back inside, and pocketed the pen drive that she had plugged into the computer in the front cabin.

As she was leaving a blast caused her to smack down against the wall. She groggily got to her feet, reaching for her briefcase.

“Welcome. Dagdan and Brannagh at your service. What do the call you?”

Nesta slid up her black mask, covering her face,

“They call me Athena.”

She turned both guns out of their holster and shooting the 6 people she saw, she got nicked by one of their bullets. She hissed. She wasn’t outnumbered she could take them on. But the risk of the…

They wanted the brief case. She turned her hand and shot the light board making the whole depot dark.

She ran into a small corner to buy herself time.

“Come out, come out where ever you are,” Brannagh’s sweet voice carried itself to her. They were getting close.

She opened the brief case and eyed the green liquid with blue streaks going through it. She could hear them getting closer. Without another doubt she pushed the syringe inside her.

The feeling was earth wrenching, It was horrifying, like she was being remade.

She ran for the exit, leaving the briefcase. Brannagh had seen the brief case and called her brother over.

“She knows what’s good for her. She left it.”

“Wait,” Brannagh ordered, she opened it, “Shit! The bitch took it herself. Call up Hybern and tell him.

Athena took the Cauldron.”

------------

She couldn’t keep on running, she had to call Clare, Audrey, someone who…she fell and the last blurry image she saw was black timberland boots walking to her.

She woke up her head thudding against something.

“You do that again and you’ll give yourself brain damage.”

She looked at the ceiling-no roof of a car. A car she recognised.

“What the fuck are you doing here Cassian?!”

She heard the doors lock; she tried to open them to no use.

”Let me out!!”

He looked at her in the rear view mirror.

”never thought I’d have to use the child lock on you sweetheart.”

”Let. Me. Out.”

”No can do mummy’s orders.”

Her face softened, “my mom sent you.”

He hesitated then nodded. She dragged a hand through her hair.

”i need to go and see someone. Clare or someone-“

Pure rage took over his features and he braked the car so hard that Nesta almost fell. He got out of the car and climbed into the back, pulling Nesta against him.

“As I see it Nesta you have two options, 1) you co-operate and I take you to the safe house or 2) you don’t and I handcuff you to this car till you do?”

She tilted her head, “You’re angry. Why?”

“Because you left. You left and made a name for yourself that will either get you respect or get you killed.”

“You told me to leave. You TOLD me.”

“I did not think you’d actually do it.”

“Well then you should’ve known better.”

They stayed like that for a while, breathing raggedly, until Cassian

Said, “I need you to make a decision, Nesta.”

“Fine I’ll go with you. But you will regret it.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m also sitting in the passenger seat.”

“Do as you please.”

She climbed through the middle of the two seats and into the           passenger seat. He rolled his eyes and went back outside grabbing something from the boot before going back into the driver’s seat. He dropped a Burberry barrel bag into Nesta’s lap saying, “I talked to Clare before coming here. She packed it for you. It has your phone, charger, clothes and god knows what else.”

She sifted through it wondering what she had done to deserve a friend like Clare. She tried her phone, no charge.

She looked at Cassian’s phone that lay in the middle of them.

“Go ahead.” He said reading her thoughts.

She turned it on, “Passcode.”

“260369.” She tried to hide her shock at him giving her his passcode with no hesitation.

She scrolled through his contacts trying to find Audrey. It rang twice.

“Hey Cassian what’s up.”

“Auj! It’s Nesta.”

“Oh my god! Where are you?! Are you with Cassian? What happened?”

“Long story short: It’s safe with me, I’m in a bit of a mess, Cassian was sent by mom to do god knows what.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“I…don’t know.” She looked at Cassian who gestured that he’ll send it to her, “Cassian says he’ll send it to you.”

“Ok, keep safe, love you, and call me when you get there.”

“Yeah ok, Love you too, bye.”

She started taking her holsters off and getting comfortable. Cassian leaned back and got his coat that was covering Nesta when she was sleeping in the back. Nesta looked down her sleeve was ripped. The bullet wound taken care of. He put his coat over her.

“We have another one hours journey ahead of us.”

“I’m not tired.” But she didn’t take his coat off.

“Well then what do you want to do.”

“Depends. Do you have Spotify?”

He chuckled and handed his phone over. She reached down into the barrel bag her earphones and got out two frappe’s she silently put Cassian’s one between them and opened hers plugging her earphones in.

He tried to keep his smile to himself.

-------

Nesta had fallen asleep for the last 15 minutes of the journey, him taking out her earphones for her. He texted Jonah that they were at the safe house to which Jonah gave a four word answer.

Ok. Keep her safe.

The amount of love he had for Nesta and the amount of hate he had for Feyre and Elain were unimaginable. He chuckled.

“Nes.” He shook her, “We’re here. Sweetheart.”

She groaned something about letting her sleep.

He rolled his eyes. He got out of the car and picked her up. She snuggled closer to him. He smiled down softly at her peaceful face.

He took her inside to his room and placed her in between the sheets. He took off the knee high heeled boots she wore and tucked her in.

He took off his shirt and slung it on a chair; he took a shower before heading to go to sleep in the guest room.

Coming up Next

“I have 96 hours to live.”

“What?!”

“Probably why Jonah is getting worried.”

“What are we gonna do?”

“My mother wouldn’t send you if she didn’t have a plan.”

“What were you gonna do?”

“A friend of mine, Thesan, he is a doctor. Well a bit more than that.”

He looked at her and picked up his newspaper. She decided she wanted to ditch her clothes and instead of getting her own she took his shirt and worn her knee high black boots. Apparently she needed to take a shower anyway so instead of dirtying her clothes why not his. He on the other hand was shirtless which seemed to have no effect on her while walking around in his clothes definitely had an effect on him. She studied him.

“What?”

“I’m trying to figure out what would happen if you’re ex walked in and saw us like this.”

“My-wh-who are you talking about?!”

“Morrigan.”

“She’s not my ex.”

“The one night stand you’re still hung up over then.” She laughed, “You’d try to hide me. Wouldn’t you?”

He grabbed her wrist pulling her closer, “No sweetheart I actually wouldn’t.”

“Well then what would you do.”

“You wouldn’t even be able to get out of bed for starters.”

“Yeah whatever.” She left to change.

-------------------

Tags: @skychild29​ @aesthetics-11​

[hollow-haven]

Catradora. Something soft pls

I know I said drabble requests but Scone gets a whole ass fic because why not.Title: After it allWord count: 1730Rating: General

“AAaddooorraaaaa, I’m tirreeddd.” Catra groaned while she flopped herself down on the blonde’s lap. “I’m just gonna, stay here.” Catra told her, the Magicat purred and laid on her lap. Adora looked down at Catra with surprise. They had just finished their meeting about what to do next for Etheria after the defeat of Horde Prime. Adora was surprised that after everything they’ve been through, Catra was just to lay down on her lap and complain how tired she was?

Adora looked down at her, Catra still had some scars on her here and there. Her new outfit looked fitting to her from Adora’s angle, yet didn’t. Adora looked at her mismatched eyes, her head tilting as her slightly while she wondered what to do next. Adora was so surprised, she never had Catra be this close to her without fighting her in a very long time. It felt so odd to her, especially since Catra was just sitting on her lap purring loudly like old times. Adora didn’t know what to do. She just sat there on her chair, looking at Catra in surprise. Catra squinted at her, stopping her purring and looking annoyed with her.

“Heellooo Etheria to Adora heeelloooo.” Catra waved at her. Adora blinked and looked at her in surprise. Adora’s eyes widening and bits of her hair falling from her ponytail.

“Oh um…hey Catra.”

“Hey Adora. You’re my bed now. Get used to it.”

Catra hasn’t changed much, Adora realized.

“That’s fine but…wouldn’t you want to sleep on an actual bed?” Adora asked raising a brow at her. “There’s a lot of rooms in Brightmoo-”

“Adora, there’s no spare rooms.” Glimmer quickly added in while she looked at the hologram on intercom. She hummed and swiped a few things here and there, then began typing. “I can understand if you two need space, but there’s a lot of rebellion fighters sleeping in the castle and it’s going to take awhile to well…empty out any rooms since we need to focus on the rebuilding efforts. Plus…Catra is literally laying down on your lap and you’re letting her stay there. Why don’t you just let her use your bed?”

Adora blushed at the suggestion. Catra, use her bed?! That was a shock. Adora would have never thought- “If you’re going to take me to your bed you’re going to have to carry me because I don’t feel like walking.” Catra said looking at her sharp fingernails. Catra was oddly out of character even for Adora at this point. Adora couldn’t help but growing suspicious. Since when did Catra get so bossy?

“Fine. I’ll take you to my bed then.” Adora picked up Catra with both of her arms. Catra mewled in surprise, blinking. She was expecting Adora to just well…stay there. Laws of the cat laying on a human and all. Adora broke a sacred rule among cat lovers and she wasn’t sorry for it. “My bed is far more comfortable than the other beds in Brightmoon anyways.” She told her with a smirk. Catra pouts at her smirk.

“Just shut up and take me there already, Adora.” Catra hissed. Adora laughed. Glimmer looked on in surprise.

“Taking her to your bed just like that then?” Glimmer noted with a grin on her lips. She pointed at the two of them, noting how Adora was carrying Catra bridal style. “I thought you would put up more of a fight, but Bow still owes me money then.” Glimmer responded with a smug expression. “So tell me, have you guys well…told each other yet?”

Catra and Adora looked at each other confused. “Told each other what?” They both asked in unison.

“That, well…” Glimmer made her hands fold into the perfect shape for one to make sock puppets. She pressed her hands together and made kissing noises. “Oh Adora I missed you so much, I’m so happy to finally be with you. Hiss. Hiss. Purr.” Glimmer mocked Catra’s voice. “Oh I love you Catra! Mawh mawh mawh.” Glimmer pressed her hands together more, her expression stayed that same smug expression while the two looked at Glimmer in shock and their faces turned red. “Mawh, mawh, mawh. I love you so much Catra, let’s get married and never have to leave each other ever again. Mawh mawh.”

“Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon!” Adora gasped out, shocked.

“Sparkles!” Catra equally yelled out in shock.

“I’m not lying though!” Glimmer slammed her hands on the table, her look striking fear into their souls. “Ever since me and Catra came back from Horde Prime’s ship all you’ve been doing is giving each other bedroom eyes!! I’m sick and tired of this romantic and possibly sexual tension! Just kiss and get married already! Queen’s orders!” Glimmer grabbed the end of her cape, flipping it with her as she turned around. Glimmer teleported away, assuming she was done being third wheel to Catra and Adora’s antics.

Adora and Catra looked at each other with confused and scared looks. The blush still on their faces. Adora smirked and opened her mouth to say something then Catra added, “No. I’m not going to marry you. Sparkles is not the boss of me.”

Adora’s smirk turned into a frown. “B-”

“What is marriage anyways?”

Adora soon realized that Catra didn’t know what marriage was. Adora didn’t know much of it herself until Spinerlla and Netossa came into the picture. The two were married. So Adora hummed as they walked out of the war room to Adora’s room. Adora had to think, and thinking of an explanation to a concept she barely understood was harder than she thought. “Well, marriage is kind of a fancy way of saying you want to be with someone for as long as their alive. You know how we have our squadron back in the Horde? And we stayed with them until we become Force Captains? It’s like that…but with two people, and you get to pick who you stay with.”

“So it’s basically a fancy way of saying partners for life?”

Adora nodded. Catra gave her a sort of look that told her that everything came together.

“We should get married then.” Catra told her with her ears perking up. Adora froze. Catra pouts and waves her hands in front of her face. “Heellooo Etheria to Adora?! You’re really doing this again?! Are you sure you’re not brain damaged?!” Adora looks down at Catra, her face was one of pure shock.

“A-are you sure about that?!” Adora asked her, Adora picked up the pace, walking a little quicker to her bedroom.

Catra sighed, waving her hands around. “Sure why not, I mean since we are on the same side now, why not make it official right?” Catra responded nonchalantly.

Adora wanted to scream.

If Catra didn’t stop she was going to scream.

Once they got to her room, Adora kicked that door open like it owed her lunch money. It was probably broken in some parts but she didn’t care. Adora was trying her best to suppress her emotions. Catra looked a little worried…maybe saying that was a bad idea. Adora was going insane. Catra leaped off of her hold, landing on her feet on the ground. Catra took a good look around the room before looking back at Adora who was closing the door. “Hey. You. Bed. Now.” Catra commanded. Adora blinked.

“What?”

“You heard me. Bed. Now. You’re acting crazy.”

“You’re the one who’s acting crazy!”

“Oh, are we really going to argue over this?”

“Yes, we are.”

Adora and Catra looked at each other. Both females sharing grins while they prepared for their ritual. “Oh you wanna fight huh?” Adora asked her with playfulness in her expression. Catra nodded, her claws retracting and her tail lashed about. Her haunches rose as well as her fur. The both of them look at each her. They were ready. “The first one to touch the bed has to admit their crazy.” Adora proclaimed.

“I can agree to those terms.” Catra replied, with their wager set the two began battle. Catra being the first one to launch at Adora. Adora moved herself to the side, barely dodging Catra’s attack. Catra was able to counter and used her agility to turn herself around and grab Adora by her waist, pushing her to the bed. Adora attempted to push, pull, or even stop herself but the momentum was so strong that Catra pinned Adora to her bed.

Catra looked down at her, grinning widely while her tail lashed about. Catra’s pupils turned from their natural slits to wide dilated pupils. Catra was treasuring in this moment. Adora heard her loud purrs. It was obvious that the Magicat was enjoying this. Adora in a sense enjoyed their swift battle too, even if she lost. The two stared at each other. Catra couldn’t help but be excited at seeing her below her. Her claws slowly pulled out while she dug them into the bed, tearing some of the blanket and bedding. Catra’s breathing was rapid as if she ran for her life.

Adora looked up in surprise, Catra was liking this a little too much? Adora’s blush returned to her face. Catra looked beautiful, even as she tore into her bed. “Hey.” Her voice soft and gentle. “Come closer, I want to tell you something.” Adora whispered. Catra pulled her face closer, wanting to hear what the loser had to say.

What surprised her, was what Adora did next.

Instead of admitting she was just some crazy person who needed sleep, Adora kissed her. Catra’s fur stood on end, her tail froze in surprise. Everything froze in surprise, the only sound heard in their room was Catra’s loud purring and the tear of her claws through the bedding. Adora closed her eyes while the two shared that kiss. The tears began to fall between them, both of their eyes watering. Catra retracted her claws, holding that kiss for a few moments before pulling away.

“I love you.” Adora told her.

“I love you too, ya dork. Now…let me just hold you for awhile.”

Adora nodded, the two moved enough that they were both lying in the same bed. Side by side, looking at each other. Catra smiled and held Adora, pulling her close and nuzzling into her neck. Catra purred loudly while she kissed her shoulder blade up to her neck, then her cheek and finally to her lips. The two shared a soft and tender, while brief, kiss.

Catra and Adora fell asleep after that kiss. They were going to have a long recovery to help with, and they would need all of the rest they would be able to get.

[xlady-saya]

I want this touch to be familiar [Ch. 3]

Relationships: andrew/neil, side aaron/katelyn

Summary: Deep down, Andrew knew he would always reach this crossroads, a time where the thought became too strong to ignore.

Going all the way with Neil. It’s not something he can continue to avoid thinking about. When Andrew looks back to the days where he held Neil’s hands down, when he never got off with him in the same room, he’s forced to acknowledge how much he’s allowed.

Not allowed. Welcomed. Wanted.

But that’s not all there is to it, and the desire to make a decision finally makes itself known.

Tags: first time fic, p*rn with feelings, relationship study, fluff and communication, multichapter

Read on ao3!

They do in fact, kick Kevin out.

To say it's extremely satisfying is an understatement, and Andrew doesn't try to deny himself the feeling. In this case, it's deserved, and a long time coming.

Kevin's not happy about it, especially since they offer him no further explanation. They've never asked for privacy so explicitly; Andrew never realized it before, how they’re used to accommodating everyone else, used to waiting until Kevin and the Foxes aren’t around to have their time to themselves.

Rushed, heated, timed.

This had been different. This time Andrew let himself be greedy. Nicky at least reads the mood well enough to make himself scarce. Andrew doesn’t care about the teasing; he’s adamant about his reasons, the need to carve out time to navigate this new experience. Not only that...but something possessive and antsy fuels him in the moment. This is just for him and Neil.

He won't risk a walk in and a hasty cover up.

All Andrew has to do is drop Thea's name and threaten to do Neil in the locker room for Kevin to finally get the damn hint and fuck off.

Dealing with Kevin is familiar territory, even post their deal. It's nicer, letting him fend for himself while not cutting the relationship loose entirely, but Andrew's concept of friendship is one he's still exploring and definitely not something he needs to think about right now.

Right now...right now is not familiar territory.

He walks back to the bedroom as Kevin mutters about having to leave, out of Andrew's mind before he's even out of sight.

He's distracted, so focused, lost.

There are glimpses of the familiarity he craves though, remembered through his own fingertips and his memory. The promise of soft lips and scars that follow the curve of a runner's body, hips pressed down and warmth. Neil.

Neil, who is ready and fresh from an extra long shower.

As soon as he crosses into the bedroom, the presence is electric, Andrew almost thinks the static will shoot from his fingertips. He doesn't know how Neil ever survived on the run, how he ever blended in. His everything is loud. Before the slam of the front door even echoes through the dorm room, Andrew's eyes are on him. It would almost be amusing, seeing the little jump of Neil's shoulders at the intensity, if he wasn't so taken by the mere sight of him.

Of course he finds his gaze already returned by the striker, all fire and an almost beckoning quality.

Nicky would probably call the look 'fuck me eyes,' and for once Andrew is inclined to agree.

He intends to.

A shiver runs down his spine at the thought; he watches Neil bite his bottom lip, plush beneath his teeth, and Andrew licks his own from the muscle memory. He’s chased after those lips so many times…He wants to bite down, to claim them, as if he has to. Neil only ever looks at him, and the fantasy already begins to cloud Andrew's mind.

He’s it for Neil, Andrew’s brain tells him then, stroking the flame. His first. Andrew pushes that thought away, too optimistic, too ideal, and fiercely territorial. The thought he’ll have Neil forever…it’s too much to bring into the equation.

Especially when Neil won't stop rubbing his fucking thighs together.

The striker squirms in place on the bed, not subtle in the slightest as he checks Andrew out from head to toe. Neil lingers on the line of Andrew’s shoulders, swallowing a second after. Andrew revises; nothing about Neil is subtle these days, so he shouldn’t be this surprised.  That smart, short-tempered mouth and looks which attract the whole crowd at Eden's.

And yet, Neil never gave a damn about anyone else.

Right then, the reminder cracks the walls around him.

Because they both think about this. They both want. Neil doesn't try to hide from him.

Nerves, excitement, and all the things Andrew cannot express are reflected back at him with how Neil leans back without thinking about it, stretching out.

When Andrew huffs the ghost of a laugh, his walls beginning to crumble, Neil's eyes brighten in interest.

This is ridiculous. It's so ridiculous, because Neil should be the farthest thing from sexy right then. He's in his armbands and one of Andrew's old ratty shirts, the one he's told Neil time and time again to throw away but to no avail. The loose threads and dulled color bring Andrew back to a time where Neil only wore old, thrifted clothes. Too big around the shoulders, neckline distorted, but Neil clings to it for comfort, not necessity. Not because he has nothing else or has to conserve his money.

'It's yours,' had been Neil's only explanation.

And can Andrew talk, with the chain around his neck?

Neil's wearing those heinous cargo shorts Matt bought him, with only one sock on his foot. The fool would dress like this everyday, with no sense of matching or cohesiveness, if Andrew didn't pick his damn outfits.

There's nothing like what's in the movies; nice suits, tailored clothes, lingerie...

It's the farthest thing from a fantasy. But this Neil, in all his mundanity, is nothing short of a wet dream to Andrew. The other end of a leash. The striker must notice the change, the darkening of Andrew's eyes, and the small whimper goes straight to Andrew's cock.

Oh yes, the only problem with Neil's clothes is the fact they're still on.

As he slams the door to the bedroom shut, it finally hits Andrew what they're about to try. Of course, they've talked about it, planned it, he's known for days. Regardless, the air around him feels like glass, making it hard to move but easy to break if he tries. This tension...it's terrible and exhilarating all at once.

Neil knows just how to push him to get him moving; he stops squirming long enough to spread his legs, leaving the perfect slot for Andrew to fit, and that's when the glass shatters.

There's a lot in his head as he stalks towards Neil, throwing off his jacket in the process. Roland's advice exchanged over texts, his own research, and countless conversations. And yet above it all is just Neil, Neil, Neil.

Andrew doesn't have time to linger on how he doesn't even hesitate to pull off his shirt, to be so exposed in front of someone without a second thought. His armbands stay; he’s not quite sure he can handle that along with what they’re about to do. Neil's sharp intake of breath at the sight of his abs, his biceps, is enough to override any of that.

Neil surges up to meet him.

Andrew's hands fly to Neil's shoulders as their lips meet, like a punch of desperation. Neil, as always pushes back against Andrew, as if to challenge him. Andrew is almost positive he does it on purpose, just so Andrew will show his strength. He pushes Neil back down onto the bed, and Neil’s excited gasp proves him right. The urge to corral all the limitless energy buzzing beneath Neil's skin is so strong Andrew doesn’t know what to do about it. He wants to expend it all, make Neil boneless and sated.

He growls and nips Neil's bottom lip, boxing him in without pressing down. Where to start? He wants to do it all.

'Don't rush into it,' Roland's voice says, and Andrew fights the urge to kick it to the curb, to force it away with such viciousness it astounds him. He doesn't want to think about anything else, just this, just Neil moaning yes for things Andrew hasn't asked yet. He just wants to have.

Neil's groan is way too filthy for just a kiss and is not helping to make his self-control any easier. Andrew coaxes Neil's tongue out slowly in response, bringing their pace down if only slightly. Slow, patient. He knows the bartender was right, he can't rush this. He needs Neil to be relaxed, feeling good...

Andrew’s brain starts to fill with all the reminders, the advice.

His brain unhelpfully states that he should be feeling that way too, should be turned on, but rigidness begins to creep into his veins anyways. No, no. He can’t fixate on that. He forces it to the back of his mind, but he knows his body language betrays him. He keeps Neil's hands pinned to the mattress with one of his own, unable to handle the touch, and he holds the strikers jaw with the other. He forgot how this feels, the need to keep Neil restrained. It's been so long...

He licks into Neil's mouth to distract him, teasingly, like he's mapping it out. He can't deny it feels so warm, burning, the whine he rips from Neil's throat for his actions. The sloppiest of kisses, just because he can, just because it makes Neil's hips twitch.

Yes, get worked up for me.

This is what needs to happen, but...

Next. Next, next--

The rustle of the condoms he laid out on the bed calls his attention, so does the new bottle next to them. Research...foreplay, slow, steady, now?

He gets lost in the kiss, but his actions lose their sense of purpose. Stalling. He pins Neil's tongue down, tries to draw out those delicious sounds so they drown out his erratic heartbeat, his thoughts.

"Andrew..."

The sound of Neil's voice is muffled, like it's underwater. Oh, this is definitely unfamiliar. Neil’s voice has never failed to be a lighthouse in the stormy bay.

He's not hard, he realizes. Andrew's not hard. Even with Neil nearly rutting against him, taken apart by just a kiss...he's...

The arousal surges only to be snuffed out by his own distraction each time, his own fixation on how he needs this to go down. Minimal damage.

But if it doesn't feel good...

It should, because it's Neil. With Neil, it's never supposed to be about a checklist.

It's just--

Andrew freezes when Neil's hands tremble beneath his, a weak, almost questioning attempt to pull free. He pulls back, staring down at Neil's eyes, already clouded and drowsy with how Andrew makes him feel.

Andrew pauses a moment, considering before he lets Neil free. Neil’s slow about it, sliding his hands out from under Andrew’s, feeling the calloused skin like it’s all he wants. Andrew lets him look his fill. The trust is no longer the issue.

And god, Neil is so damn nosy about everything. In how he tracks Andrew's face, searching again and finding...something. Neil turns his head into his shoulder, suppressing a grin.

Andrew nearly scowls. What are you smiling about?

If he's being honest, trying to get into Neil's head is one of the biggest challenges there is in his life, and it's self-created. He need only ask to receive, but Neil also doesn’t leave him waiting.

Neil's hands move purposefully, where Andrew can see and track them. They still just above Andrew's shoulders, and with a whispered ‘yes’ from Andrew’s lips, they slide down, rubbing tantalizing circles along his muscles.

He jolts from it, and Neil’s smile brightens.

Andrew’s one giant knot of tension; he hadn't even realized it, but then Neil starts undoing the chords. Andrew allows himself a slow exhale, and Neil swipes his tongue over the column of his throat. Andrew's cock twitches in interest for the first time, and Neil’s lips curve against his skin.

Someone with a penchant for starting fights should not have this calming effect.

One of Neil's hands comes to tangle in the silver chain around Andrew's neck, pulling him closer. Tease, a menace even.

Andrew is completely entranced.

Neil nips the underside of his chin before pulling back, not breaking eye contact as he hooks two fingers into his own waistband. Andrew's breathing stops, and Neil strips off his shorts and underwear in one alluring movement. Neil's not a master at seduction, he simply knows what gets under Andrew's skin.

Those damn legs.

“Hm?” Neil hums as his knee lightly brushes against Andrew's groin, pausing to apply pressure, and oh...Neil should not be so good at this.

It leaves Andrew feeling a little conflicted; where did Neil learn this?

Once, while wiping Andrew's cum from the corner of his lips, Neil had simply said 'My mind might not be the fastest learner, but the rest of me is.'

This whole thing applies. If Neil senses Andrew's nerves, he seldom comments on it, but he never hesitates to start trying to help.

'Help' even when it's him being a shit.

"Come here." Neil's words are not a soft encouragement, nor are they a command. It's like it's a fact, a prophecy, like there isn't another direction Andrew can possibly go. Andrew glares at him, thinks about defying him just because, but the rigidness from before is almost gone. There's a tightness in his abdomen, a heat. Arousal, not wariness.

Also, Neil is very naked from the waist down, and very willing.

So Andrew lets himself be led back up, standing at the side of the bed while Neil gets comfortable, situating his face right in front of Andrew's fly. He tries not to let his interest show too much, but he guesses he fails when Neil smirks up at him. With practiced movements, Neil makes sure Andrew gives him a ‘yes’ before hastily undoing his belt and pants, the hunger in his eyes nearly too much. He pulls Andrew's half-hard cock out, shoving his pants down enough to bite at the V of Andrew's hips.

Andrew grunts at the feeling of Neil's breath against him, the striker’s hand wrapping firmly around his cock and spitting on it to slick it up. Andrew's hand finds Neil's hair automatically, like he's used to doing when Neil goes to suck him off. Neil loves the encouragement, writhes from it.

When Neil hands him the bottle of lube, Andrew gets it.

The position, the request...

Andrew yanks at the underside of Neil's knee, spreading his legs and bringing him closer, the perfect angle for--

"Neil," Andrew warns as Neil starts to stroke him slow, paying way too close attention to how his cock begins to swell. Andrew's voice fills with the strain to keep down a groan.

Fast learner. Right.

With a hum, Neil guides Andrew's hand, the one holding the bottle, in between his thighs. The implication is clear, and Neil’s skin is still warm and flushed from when he probably cleaned himself.

Andrew digs his hand into Neil’s hair at the thought.

"We're sharing, remember?" Neil says, almost innocently, like he's not asking Andrew to finger him open for the first time while he drools all over his dick. Andrew won't mistake this for something else, he knows it's nothing short of consideration for him.

Andrew wants to snap that Neil doesn't need to do this, doesn't need to try and distract Andrew from the whirlwind in his head. He doesn't need help, to get him out of his weird fog so he can actually get it up--

Neil swipes his tongue over the head of Andrew's cock and his breathing stutters, cutting off all thought for a blissful second.

"I want to do this how we always do it," Neil says then, eyes dangerous as he watches precum bead on the tip, evidence of Andrew's desire. There’s a seriousness locked underneath his tone. "I want you to feel good."

How we always do it...

He isn’t wrong; there's an edge to Neil's statement, a reinforcement. This is still us. No expectations, no pressure, only...

Andrew sets the bottle down so he can squeeze the flesh of Neil's thigh, soaking in the gasp he gets for it. He tugs Neil's head up to kiss him, deep and promising, before letting him get back to what he's good at. Using his mouth.

Andrew swallows, forcing down the unnecessary noise. He rids himself of the unessentials, the countless hours of research and text conversations with Roland, clinging to what he needs and not what overwhelms. He brings himself back to the basics therapy taught him. Breathing, grounding himself.

That's all he can do. He of all people, should've known there's no exact formula for this.

It's still us.

Us.

And that...that is one of four truths. Another deep breath, and Andrew embraces their first attempt.

"Tell me if it hurts," Andrew says, demands as he massages Neil's knee, watching his cock leak all over the bed. His hand glides up, grazing Neil's balls and teasing the sensitive skin.

Neil nods, so needy, and flicks his tongue out again over Andrew's shaft. Neil always does this, and it's so annoying because Andrew can't help but be so smug about it. Neil will stroke Andrew's cock leisurely for a few seconds, watching it grow until it's heavy and thick in his hand.

Trembling, Andrew uncaps the bottle and smears some lube on his fingers, letting some drip onto Neil's inner thighs just because. "Junkie."

Neil doesn't apologize for making him wait. "I like watching," he says, almost hazy. "I like knowing I can get you this excited."

Andrew has Neil lift his leg, positioning him so he can rub his fingers over Neil's entrance. There's a moment where Neil tenses from the feeling, but then he's relaxed again, focused on Andrew.

He never stopped to think Neil attending to Andrew's needs would also help to relax him.

"I hate you," Andrew says, so resigned, and Neil's smile is smug as can be.

He gives a squeeze to the base of Andrew's cock, pressing the head to his cheek. "I think this means you like me."

Andrew burns the image into his head.

"There are better uses for your mouth," Andrew snaps, but Neil is already swallowing him whole, hollowing out his cheeks so his cock can sit heavy and warm in his mouth. Neil's eyes flutter shut, freezing in place for an agonizing second, and Andrew guesses he's not the only one who savors these things. He feels Neil swallow around him, and petulantly holds in his moan. Neil’s eyes flutter open to glare playfully before he’s moving, steady and easy, in retaliation. The feeling is enough to pull grunts out of Andrew, and he feels his stomach jump from the slide of Neil’s mouth, but not enough to make him come too fast.

Neil's hand rests against Andrew's stomach, feeling every twitch.

Andrew tugs Neil's shirt up as far as he can, the scars grounding him. He needs something else to focus on, not to get out of his own head this time, but just to stop himself from thrusting into Neil's mouth.

The idiot is already prone to making himself choke from his own enthusiasm, he doesn't need Andrew helping.

With that in mind, Andrew digs deep for the gentlest touch he can manage, and presses his finger into Neil. It's not something he's ever been good at, softness; he's a rock. Firm, rough, but something to keep Neil safe. His hands are deadly and harsh, but for this...

He tries.

His finger pushes inside slowly, thumb pressed against the underside of Neil's balls to give him some relief. He feels Neil jolt from the foreignness, but he doesn't push away. No grimace, no fear. Andrew wonders what it feels like...

A dark part of him whispers that he should know, but rationale sets in. No, he wouldn't. Not this, not something wanted and craved. Neil gasps with Andrew's cock still in his mouth, hand shaky where he strokes what his mouth can't reach. And Andrew...Andrew didn't think about this part.

Andrew isn't prepared, could've never been prepared for how warm Neil is. He sighs as he pushes in and out slowly, the slick sounds barely audible over the sounds from Neil's throat. Neil's messy when it comes to these things, and his fist is wet where it pumps Andrew. That, together with the loud swallows, is deafening.

And of course, Neil is so impatient. Andrew takes his sweet time for them both, since at this point he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep from getting too close to the edge. The thought of his cock replacing his finger, squeezed so tight...

Neil's hips start to roll back, not familiar or sure of the touch, but more comfortable with it. And hellbent on provoking Andrew further, even if involuntarily.

He pushes Neil's damp bangs away from his hair, a silent warning to slow it down, and thankfully the striker does. He takes his mouth away, but keeps his hand stroking agonizingly slow. Andrew tears his gaze away from the line of spit connected to Neil’s mouth.

Can’t lose focus, but Neil’s always made that hard.

Andrew takes another deep breath before he pushes in another finger, and the pattern repeats. He waits for Neil's hips to start chasing the sensation, and then he stretches him, letting him feel the ghost of the real thing. He watches Neil's brow furrow, little whimpers starting to leave his mouth, unsure. They increase in volume as his hips thrust back a little more eagerly, legs trembling, choked gasps a little too close to Andrew’s name. The confusion in his eyes blends so brilliantly with the arousal.

For a moment, Andrew wonders if Neil is uncomfortable, but then the puzzle pieces line up. It doesn't take Andrew long to realize what it is. Neil feels good, likes this, and that it hasn't quite sunk in for him that he does.

Oh Neil, a fast learner huh?

Something primal stirs in Andrew's chest at knowing Neil loves being fingered open, legs spread and thighs sticky. This just means Andrew can take him apart this way now, can learn how to do it best so Neil’s eyes roll back. They won't always need to go all the way, he can do this simply because Neil will come completely undone from it. Fingering Neil against a wall, stretching him until he comes...

He maybe jumps ahead too fast. Andrew adds another digit quickly, roughly, and Neil yelps. The sound quickly dissolves into a whine and a shiver, and Andrew freezes.

As if he can't believe the feeling, Neil presses his hand against his own abdomen, feeling it jump.

"O-Oh," Neil hiccups, and Andrew refuses to move. He hates it, but despite his consideration for Neil, his mind is fogged because...

Shit, Neil feels so tight.

"Okay?" Andrew asks, and when did his voice get so low? It's throaty, drenched in barely held restraint, and Neil shivers from it.

"Y-yeah," Neil says with a nod and a ghost of a laugh. Stupid, so stupid-- "It's different but..."

Neil blinks, lost, staring at some faraway place Andrew can't reach.

Neil cannot leave him hanging like this right now. Not when Andrew is two seconds away from putting an end to it.

"Neil."

The harshness makes the striker groan, hiding his face in a rare show of embarrassment. "I'm okay. Just...your fingers...fuck Andrew, you're going to be inside me."

Andrew leans down and kisses him hard; he just needs it, needs to communicate some of the tumultuousness going on inside of him. It never gets easier, having his feelings mirrored so easily. How the hell does Neil know how he feels without realizing?

His fantasies, his desires…

Shared.

Neil, never knowing when he shut up, whispers into the kiss. "It feels so good..."

The excitement shows; Neil's legs try to lift where Andrew is keeping them apart. Briefly, he imagines smearing his come over Neil's thighs, since the striker tends to rub them together when he's excited, like he's trying to do now.

Andrew gives Neil something then, his noises, the groans he normally keeps back, if only to make Neil keen. He always did like making Andrew lose control.

"Feel good?" Andrew says, almost mocking, and decides to finally pull something else from the necessary information he kept at the front of his mind.

He hooks his fingers inside Neil, searching for the angle until--

"Holy fuck," Neil yells, with no regard for anyone who might be through the walls. That's alright; the mouthiness was never a turn off. Neil gives a full body spasm, shock and disbelief at war on his face. His jaw hangs open, and Neil brings his hand up to press the back of it to his mouth.

So reactive.

Andrew nearly smirks as he leans in; well, that wasn't so hard to find.

"Feel that?" He asks, watching Neil fist the sheets with his other hand.

The striker swallows, panting hard. "W-what--"

"Now, now," Andrew sighs, not covering up his amusement very well. "Pay attention this time."

He presses his fingers into the spot again, and Neil's back arches beautifully. Runners...Andrew guesses they're not so bad.

"Fuck--fuck yes," Neil cries out, chest heaving. It almost compels him to do it again, but with Neil so on edge, this will end before they can even try to go further. The desperation in Neil's eyes, the satisfaction, is enough to soothe some of the anxiety in the pit of Andrew's stomach.

"Do it again," Neil demands, nearly pleads, trying to roll his hips to do it himself.

It takes all of Andrew’s self-control to not obey, which is terrifying. No one tells Andrew what to do, he hates to give in, but with Neil like this it's like a siren song.

Yet, he manages. "No."

He squeezes the base of his cock again, still leaking from Neil's earlier attention.

If I watch you react like that I'll come.

As if realizing the same thing, Neil petulantly leans forward to tongue at Andrew's cock, and Andrew pulls him back by the hair.

Neil, the idiot, pushes against the hold teasingly, riling them both up.

“Antsy,” Andrew scoffs, as if part of him doesn’t burn because of it.

Andrew uses the distraction to scissor his fingers one last time inside Neil, careful to avoid his prostate. Neil winces at the stretch and Andrew waits, lets Neil adjust, and between the sounds of their heaving breaths he allows himself to give some more.

"So warm," he sighs, actually sighs, and Neil’s answering groan is too debauched, his cock twitching from the praise. Andrew files that away for later.

He’s been filing a lot of things away for later, good things.

"Yeah?" Neil challenges, because it's what he does. "Then c'mon."

And right now...a 'no' would be a lie. Andrew pulls his fingers out, and joins Neil on the bed with shaky limbs, grabbing Neil's hips to turn him over so his ass is in the air.

It's the first time Neil resists him. The striker fights the manhandling, keeping his eyes on Andrew's face. "Andrew, I want--"

"Neil--"

"But--"

"It'll hurt less this way," Andrew says, with hardly any room for argument. It would make it easier, that's what Roland said, and Andrew made sure not to lose that in the minefield of information he took in. "It'll be more comfortable for you."

Neil stares at him for a good long minute, as if that'll do anything. He's familiar enough with Andrew's tones to know there's not really room for argument here. Andrew's about to say they don't have to if Neil doesn't want to, but then Neil sighs.

"Okay," he says, nodding. "I want to see your face next time though."

The promise of next time is too much to think about right then, made worse by Neil's next request. "Kiss me?"

Like of all things, that's too much to ask. Like Andrew doesn't seal everything between them with a kiss and a firm touch. Andrew leans forward, surprisingly slow, and catches Neil's lips softly. Steadying, deep, while he grabs a handful of Neil’s ass.

Neil shivers when he pulls away, turning around and pressing his head into the mattress. He's a sight, one Andrew will never let anyone else see. Before he was comfortable enough to be this open with Neil, Andrew would never let himself admire, labeling the urge as a waste of time. Now, Andrew runs his hand over the slope of Neil's ass, thumbing the ghosts of scars and faded burns. All he sees is strong legs, and Neil's leaking cock hanging between them.

All for Andrew, only for Andrew.

With shaking fingertips Andrew coats himself in a little too much lube before lining himself up, pressing his forehead against Neil's spine.

This is it, now, next, this moment--

The dark cloud, the one which sits in the back of his head, kept mostly at bay this whole time, creeps forward...

Andrew doesn't sense it, can't think. His mind is a vault locked beneath an ocean, and he never knows how far the tide will come up to trap him further.

"I'm going to push in," he breathes into Neil's skin, as if Neil can't feel the head of his cock rubbing against his entrance, promising. Then, in a moment of remarkable rawness, Andrew doesn’t hold back what he’s thinking. "I'm going to feel all of you."

It should feel like a release, cathartic. Andrew should’ve known to pause right then, because it doesn’t. It sounds an awful lot like he's trying to convince one of them. Neil moans, doesn’t sense it, and spreads his legs further.

Andrew can't see his face but--

His vision sways, and he realizes he didn't get a verbal yes, nevermind that he doesn't always need them anymore.

He leans back, he can see the body in front of him, the headboard. He pushes the tip of his cock inside, and the heat is overwhelming, squeezing him so hard he winces.

So tight, it can't possibly feel good for Neil, it's like he's forcing his way inside and--

He sees hands fly up to scrape at the headboard, and imagines they're held there, unable to move, unable to break away, to get free.

He can't hear Neil's voice, can't see his face, can't tell.

Andrew's entire body goes rigid, and the choked noise which escapes him disgusts him beyond all belief. He moves away like he's been struck, violent and cornered on the other side of the bed.

No. No, no, no.

Neil moves into action surprisingly fast, but doesn't try to follow Andrew. He knows better. As soon as Andrew sees the ring of blue, he feels slightly better, but still far too exposed. Neil yanks the nearest blanket over Andrew, covering him before pulling down his shirt and wrapping the sheet around his waist.

Andrew wonders if that's a good thing for his mind right then. He needs to see. He searches Neil for injuries, bores his gaze into him until he finds evidence of pain or distrust. He needs to look closer, to make sure, but if he touches Neil he'll make it worse.

He’ll make all this worse.

Yet, there’s nothing on Neil but the marks of the past, not all of them bad. Andrew eyes where the faded hickies meet crisscrossing scars. He keeps staring, navigating from afar, and finds nothing of what he's expecting. There's only concern in Neil's gaze, and an adamance which keeps Andrew focused on the present.

Neil’s feet dig into the bed, keeping himself in check even though Andrew knows he’d rather be looking Andrew over too.

"Andrew," Neil says, a little loud, because he knows if Andrew is somewhere other than the present he often needs to be jolted back to reality. "Andrew it's me."

But well, Neil would be wrong.

That's the problem. It's you.

It was Neil, underneath him, it was Neil who filled the role of someone so vulnerable.

Andrew takes a slow gulp of air, and he doesn't try to soften his words. There's no way to, right then.

"I know," Andrew says, unbelievably loud in the space. Cold. And oh, he does not like this at all. The slow realization, the understanding of what happened.

Neil's chest is still heaving, and Andrew's mind begins to clear. Neil looks the farthest from scared, he was feeling good, the haze in his eyes very much there. Craving, waiting for Andrew to give him something he ultimately could not.

And isn't that rich?

Andrew, despite knowing there would most likely be setbacks, who should've seen this coming, doesn't know what to do with this. Disappointment is an old emotion he has not felt in so long, ugly and worse than any good or anxious feeling he's begun to experience more.

It's full body, and makes him want to rip his hair out. They’d been so close.

He's aware he has nothing to feel guilty for, or upset by. Calling this a mess-up is not accurate, and it would be idiotic to do so. And yet, he...

Neil’s breathing stutters when Andrew looks away from him, like he misses it already.

Andrew does too, and he’s got no fight in him left to pick that apart. He just gives in and slides his gaze back to his boyfriend, the word coming easy to him for once.

Neil opens his mouth then closes it, thinking better of it. The coldness in Andrew's eyes is directed inward, wholly at himself. But Neil sees it all, the anger and frustration, and knows it's not time for this discussion. Even when it's clear he's in the dark, doesn't know what caused it, can't get past the wall blocking Andrew's mind, he knows when a boundary needs to be enforced.

They'll talk, soon, but Andrew can't now.

He hates that he can't, that's it's not his fault he can't.

Robbed of control, always.

He fists his hands in the blankets, stretching the fabric, as if he can mimic the feeling anyways. Neil's back hits the headboard softly, letting the quiet settle between them and makes no move to break it. Those bright blue eyes drift between Andrew and the bathroom door, as if debating on leaving, giving Andrew space. There’s not an ounce of disappointment on Neil’s face.

And shit, the itch to leave is rampant. He knows Neil wouldn't mind, but Andrew does. He doesn't want to leave Neil like this, not after something so intense for them both, so new, but he needs to be alone in his own head. That's out of his control too.

But some things have changed, some things he still has the strength to challenge.

He turns towards the wall, where he can focus on the cracks and faded wallpaper instead of Neil's warm body and concern, and lies down rigidly. This isn't tension Neil will be able to rid him of, but it's okay. Andrew doesn't expect him to.

Instead, he puts his back to Neil, a small acquiescence, a show of trust. Andrew never sleeps with his face to the wall.

Andrew hopes Neil takes the gesture as 'stay, be here.'

Andrew will only be able to do this if Neil brackets him off, closed to the world.

There's a long pause of debate while Neil tenses, and Andrew closes his eyes. He’s exhausted suddenly. He wouldn't be offended if Neil left, he tells himself, but his pulse spikes in relief when he feels the mattress shift with Neil's weight as he lies down, leaving space between them.

Traitorous heart.

And through all the slog in his head, Andrew can't help but think the gaze on the back of his neck is the closest thing to comfort.

--

Later that night, Andrew breathes in smoke on the rooftop. He comes here more for tradition now than anything; the fear of falling is still there, but he doesn't need it to jumpstart his emotions like he used to.

There are easier ways to do it now, and he hears a foolproof method open the door behind him. Andrew doesn't flinch when Neil walks up, his head mostly cleared of its earlier fog, leaving behind annoyance and frustration.

He didn't give permission for those to remain either, but here they are. He knows it's mostly resolved, if he can call it that, because the sight of Neil makes his chest feel warm instead of worried.

It’s also unsettling, but not something he's actively trying to be rid of. Warmth, comfort. He’s too tired to lash out. Andrew quirks a brow as Neil stands there, messing with the edge of his sleeves.

Andrew's jacket.

It's then Andrew realizes the one he's wearing must be Neil's, grabbed without a second thought after it was his turn to shower. Routine; Andrew can’t remember the last time he wore his own jacket, except for when Neil asked him to.

So it would smell like him again.

With a sigh, Andrew flicks his cigarette off the side of the building, not watching it fall to its demise. Neil is much more interesting.

The striker takes a hesitant step forward, a silent question, and Andrew can’t stand him.

"Come here," Andrew mimics, a callback to earlier, and the relief on Neil's face is almost annoying. The grin which breaks out on his face is a wave, threatening to drown Andrew as Neil plops down at his side. He leaves a bit of distance, just in case, but Andrew closes it until Neil is flush against him.

It has an instantaneous result; the rest of the tension in both their bodies floods out, and Andrew thinks with some bemusement if Neil were a cat, he'd be purring.

This is familiar, but Andrew has no place for regret in regards to the new things that happened earlier. He thinks it through slowly again, for the tenth time that day, carving around the ugliness. He'd felt good, before it happened. Exhilarating, on fire. Neil, coming apart beneath him. Those are not things he'd ever take back. Neil bites his lip, and Andrew really wishes he'd stop, since it's starting to trigger a Pavlovian response. "We...don't have to talk about it," Neil says, unsure of himself.

Again, he's mistaken.

"Yes we do," Andrew mutters, because it's not what he'd like to do per say, but...

They're sharing, he figures this is kind of part of it. Talking about these things is a little easier, if not akin to pulling teeth. It was like that before too...but now, it's like he's finally being allowed anesthesia.

Neil sighs, like he knew it all along, and nods with a sheepish smile. He keeps shifting too much, torn between wanting to soak up all of Andrew's warmth and see his face at the same time.

"What happened?" Neil asks, never one to beat around the bush once the direction is clear.

Andrew's finger drums on his knee, wishing he hadn't thrown out his cigarette. How to say it...he doesn't have the patience or care to tailor it. "Seeing you like that, for a moment I thought I was hurting you."

That's the basics of it, he thinks. The memories had blurred together, conjuring up the past instead of forcing Andrew back into it. Neil in his place, hands on a headboard, trying to get away...

Neil hums beside him, considering it. Andrew notes how he doesn't refute the reason, doesn't try to remind Andrew that he specifically told the blond to not worry about hurting him. Things are seldom so simple, and the war torn canvas of Andrew's mind can't always be wiped clean with a single statement.

"Because of the position?" Neil asks a beat later, tilting his head, and Andrew suppresses his anger. So much for that position being best, of course it would come back to bite him.

"I couldn't see your face, couldn't tell," Andrew agrees without actually doing so. "I just saw your hands scrape the bed frame."

It had been enough. Nothing more to it.

Neil nods, breathing deep. Like he’s soaking up Andrew’s presence. Once, Andrew snapped at him to stop, like if he did it too much Andrew would wither into nothing. Now, it just offers infuriating stability.

"I would've told you as soon as something was off," Neil states, and it's reassurance, not exasperation or something condescending. In fact, Neil almost looks guilty. "I should've kn--"

Andrew's head whips to face him, tone harsh, so Neil doesn't finish the thought. "No, you couldn't have known. I didn't even know. Stop it."

It's not your fault.

Trial and error, they know the position doesn't work now, at least not at the moment. That's all there is to it, no point in lingering.

Andrew feels it so strongly it threatens to break him in two. If Neil doesn't get that idea out of his head, Andrew might just kill him for real.

Neil's protests die, which is a feat only Andrew has mastered. Making Neil shut up is not straightforward. The striker kicks his legs out in front of him, tapping the edges of his shoes together.

It's not cute.

"Mm," Neil hums, nodding. "We'll just have to try again then, if you want to..."

The smile fades for a moment, and Neil's shoulders tense, fearing he's jumped the gun too soon. Neil has such an idiotic way of putting things, blunt and now without the lies, it makes relief battle with frustration inside Andrew. Of course Neil would worry about this, that Andrew wouldn't want him.

After all that, as if it's even possible for Andrew to not want Neil.

"Don't ask stupid questions," he grits out predictably, overcome with the gravity of this, of how talking to Neil can feel like a warm mug of hot chocolate on a bad night.

Neil's smirk is small, not as powerful as usual, but still there enough to set Andrew on edge. "You want me then?"

Andrew can't do this. If he had the energy to roll his eyes, he would.

He leans back, staring up at the starless sky, a black void. He imagines the lights of Eden's flashing while the heavy bass bounces off the walls. "Every inch of you."

In a random act of therapy application, he brings the past up on purpose, if only to see the way Neil's eyes widen.

There, maybe that'll shut you up.

It's wishful thinking.

"Andrew..." Neil whispers, following him to the dusty floor. Neil's eyes are brighter in the dark, Andrew thinks; it's like they glow.

It pulls the last of his thoughts out of him.

"I don't know how many times I'll get it wrong," Andrew says, surprising even himself. Already, the words feel like vomit, leaving a bad aftertaste. It was a bad way to phrase it, even he knows, but he has to make Neil aware.

This could happen again.

He remembers Neil's excitement, the yearning, the abrupt cutoff of all of it.

Neil is entirely unfazed by the gloom, swatting away the veil over Andrew's mind.

Literally. Neil brings his hand up in front of Andrew’s face, waving.

Andrew really can’t do this.

"And?" Neil asks, blinking stupidly. He looks almost...amused. "Andrew there's no three strikes policy, we can try as many times as we need to."

Do not use sports references when it comes to our sex life.

Andrew shoves him, and the tightness in his chest fades away with the normalcy of it all. Neil doesn't mind, doesn't care. Andrew should've seen that coming too. "Was that a vague baseball reference? From you?"

Neil grimaces, offended. The scars under his eyes scrunch up, and Andrew digs his thumb into one.

"Shut up," Neil grumbles, burying his forehead in Andrew's shoulder.

"I'll tell Kevin you betrayed him."

Neil snorts. "I don't think he'll appreciate the context."

No, he most certainly would not. Like Andrew cares.

He scoffs, but soaks in the feeling of their usual banter, of the weight of the day bleeding out from them both.

And then Neil, in all his devastation, has to hit Andrew one more time.

"There's no getting it wrong," the striker says a moment later, head popping back up so his chin is resting on Andrew. His hair is a goddamn mess. "It always feels good, when we lose control."

Andrew doesn't refute the always for that statement.

His breathing catches, his fingers tangling in the mess of Neil's hair, and kisses him.

He lets his mind flood with the better images, of fingering Neil open, Neil's mouth on him, the moans, the touch...

"Next time," he breathes against Neil's cheek, letting his lips feel the roughness of his scars.

Neil nods, chasing Andrew's lips like he's insatiable. He is. Andrew slows him with a hand to the chest, licking into Neil's mouth teasingly. "Did it feel good?"

He wants to hear it again, he needs to know, to reinforce it.

Neil laughs into the kiss. "It felt incredible, fuck...your hands Andrew," he breathes, letting his own be guided up to Andrew's hair. With the permission clear, he tugs on the loose hairs of Andrew's nape, massaging.

And there's no rush in this, they won't be taking it any further, but they don't need to.

Yes, yes, it all must be one big dream, this life he lives with Neil. But instead of pushing it away before it can end, Andrew has decided to indulge as long as he can.

"Tell me," he says into the skin of Neil's neck, doing what he didn't have the time to before. Marking, savoring.

Neil laughs breathily, and has the audacity to point at the next spot on his neck, tapping it in a silent request for Andrew to plant one on him.

Fine then.

"It's like you're so confident," Neil rambles, unashamed as always. Andrew rolls them over so he's on top of Neil, not for the security, but just because he knows Neil likes to feel cocooned, safe. He gets to work on the spot, swirling his tongue against it. "Like taking me apart is your only goal. I was thinking if that felt so good...how would your cock feel--"

Andrew bites down hard, and Neil yelps.

Well, someone walking by definitely heard that.

Neil is right though; it is Andrew's only goal, ripping sounds out of Neil's throat and bringing him to his knees. He likes when Neil thrashes, wants more, pleads without words.

"I'd slide right in," Andrew states, like one of his facts, a promise. It makes his own head spin. He knows he would, when he can, it'll be..."When I do fuck you, I'm going to make sure it's all you can think about."

That way, they'll be in the same boat.

The smile Neil gives him is mischievous and way too proud. "Already there," he gloats, rubbing at the sore spot on his neck. He looks far too pleased about the growing bruise. "What about you?"

Andrew's about to go for the other side of Neil's neck when the question halts him. He lifts his head back up, gaze questioning.

Neil's eyes get impossibly brighter. "What felt good Andrew?"

And in an instant, Andrew understands. Neil's eyes are lidded, staring up at him expectantly. There can be no dwelling on what went wrong, only what went right.

Neil invites him to write over the past.

Andrew leans down, closes his eyes, and his forehead meets Neil's. He hopes no one ever sees them like this, it's all Andrew's, all of it.

"You took me so easy," Andrew says, and Neil tenses on instinct, as if remembering it too. Oh yes, Andrew intends to explore that, thoroughly. "You were so damn loud."

Neil doesn't point out how he's usually loud, and therefore Andrew is confessing to having a thing for his voice. They can both infer enough to see through it.

So instead, Neil leans up to slot their lips together firmly, the promise of 'next time' searing the deal into place. "Bet you I can be louder."

And Neil, with all his infuriating seduction, is a challenge Andrew can never back down from.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Psychopath”

*Reader Discression is Advised. Contains Violent content* 

The Journal of Mechanics and Biology

The human brain is designed to run based on a set of complex backup systems. For example, All aspects of visual perception are not located in the same area. If you are to destroy one aspect of the visual system they may be able to retain other aspects of that same system. For this reason it is rather difficult to fully remove the functioning of a single sensory aspect by damaging cortical tissue. However, due to the complexity of these backup systems within a human brain, the slightest malfunction can also cause a mass ripple affect throughout the entire brain.

An imbalance in their neurotransmission chemicals can cause system wide catastrophic failure which can lead to any number of problems including, depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, etc.. Additionally, improper neural connections can also cause ripple effects in behavior. A defective connection between the prefrontal cortex and the amygdala is, perhaps, one of the most unsettling.

Though we know little about the subject, human studies have connected this to Antisocial Personality which can be further broken down into Sociopathy and Psychopathy. Specifically focusing on Psychopathy we find that a disconnect between the frontal lobe and the amygdala demonstrate a lack of empathy and the absence of fear. A human Psychopath often participants in extreme risky and criminal activity because they feel no fear worry or guilt, sensations which keep normal Humans within the bounds of their social law. 

While many psychopaths do not become violent and prefer to work high risk business jobs, when they do get a taste for criminality, the results can be catastrophic. With a lack of fear and empathy, a human psychopath may see no issue with violent crimes against his own species.

As far as we know, there is no reasonable way to detect a human psychopath on short notice, but those who have had experience have indicated that, because of their heightened animalistic instincts, another human may feel uneasy when confronted with one. Though this way of telling is not always accurate, it should be taken under advisement that if a number of humans are uneasy around one of their own species, than it is best to stay clear. 

Krill stood silently next to Captain Vir, as the ship’s cargo ramp was lowered towards the dusty ground below. A cloud of red dust plumbed into the air before dispersing to show a wide expanse of flat, red rock broken, only distantly, by the occasional hill, and a windswept concrete structure surrounded on all sides by security fences and posted with guards. 

Just below them, a dusty red jeep, a human vehicle, sat sides covered in a thick layering of red dust. 

“Remind me again why we would take on such a risky mission.” Krill asked quietly glancing nervously at the group of four guards and one prisoner standing quietly outside the vehicle.

Captain Vir gave a short laugh, and with a clank he took his first step forward onto the cargo ramp prosthetic foot clattering against the metal below him.

“It can’t be that risky.” He began, “It’s just a prisoner transport.’ Krill clattered onto the ramp after him making sure to stay behind the safety of the captain’s larger form.

“Besides.” The captain muttered, “No one else is willing to risk dealing with a human prisoner, so the galactic assembly contacted us personally.”

Krill didn’t much like that explanation, but he gave up trying to understand it as they made their way to the bottom of the ramp.

The captain showed no such worry making his way straight up to the group of guards as a few of the crew members clattered down the stairs behind them.

As was order by the galactic assembly, the human prisoner was bound with the proper human restraints including ankle chains wrist manacles and a belly chain all connected together to reduce his movement. Additionally, his mouth and nose were covered by a clear plastic spit-shield. The human didn’t appear worried or agitated in the slightest. In fact, his posture was rather relaxed as he waited in the scorching desert sun.

Odd though, looking at the human guards, Krill noted the stiffness of their bodies, and the watchfulness of their eyes. They were agitated, while the prisoner was not. Krill didn’t see why, the human was perfectly calm.

Captain Vir ignored the signs as well making his way to the guard in charge to exchange a few words before the man handed over a cream colored file. The captain appeared perplexed by something the man said, but brushed it off a moment later and motion the group of men towards the ship.

The  guards complied, and marched the prisoner up the ramp and into the cargo bay. Krill followed captain Vir on their way back up pleased to be out of the heat, which had already drained much of his energy. 

“We leave him in your capable hands.” The guard captain said, “Just remember what I told you, and you should have no problems.”

Captain Vir gave a short nod, and the man backed out of the cargo bay. As soon as he did so Krill noted the man’s posture straighten as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders. By the look on his face, you would have thought he had just returned from battle. 

Captain Vir barked an order, and the ramp gave a metallic hiss closing behind them finally blocking the oppressive heat radiating inwards from the desert moon.

Captain vir turned just then giving off a sharp hiss of surprise. Krill turned and paused to find that the other human, the prisoner, had moved silently forward so the two men were now nose to nose.

The entire cargo bay had gone quiet, and Krill watched in confusion as all the blood drained from the captain’s face.

The prisoner gave a chuckle and stepped back wide smile visible through the spit shield.

The white was replaced suddenly by a wash of red, and the captain stepped forward again right into the prisoner’s space. 

Krill stepped back in shock. He had never seen such a primitively overt manifestation of dominance from the captain. Whatever just happened, had caused an almost primal reaction.

“Threaten me again, and that chain goes around your neck.” The captain hissed looming a good two inches over the prisoner. 

Despite the show of dominance, the prisoner remained smiling posture relaxed. There was no fear in his eyes.

Despite this, the captain stood his ground as the man was dragged towards the brig by a group of four other humans.

As soon as the man left the room, the captain’s face drained again and he stepped back looking almost sick. One hand moved to rub the opposite arm. That hand was shaking. 

Krill stepped forward.

“Captain, are you alright?”

The man gave a confused shake of his head, “Yeah I.... think so... I don’t know that man just. Uh, makes my skin crawl.”

Krill glanced down at the captain’s dermal layer but found nothing untoward.

The captain must have noticed, “A figure of speech, Krill. He bothers me.... the look in his eyes... uh.”

As it turned out, the captain wasn’t the only one to be so affected. Other members of the crew reported similar, though varying, levels of uneasiness. Krill found the idea both fascinating and chilling. What about such a diminutive human could create such a visceral reaction in the crew. While the captain had responded to the man with increased dominance, a few of the other humans refused to be in the same room with him. Others, left his presence shaking and one or more of the crew members demanded that the captain release him immediately for someone else to take care of.

Though the captain looked inclined to agree, he was forced to admit there were no other options.

Krill tried to understand it, but the answers he received were mostly the same. There was something about the prisoner that caused the other humans to respond as if they were in close proximity to one of their own earth predators. As far as Krill knew, there wasn’t much that could scare a human, but this was something all together different.

A few times he took to watching the prisoner through the cameras in his cell, but As far as krill could tell, there was nothing so different about him. He seemed relatively calm and well behaved for a human. He barely talked, and aside from his first interaction with the captain, he had not made any overtly dominant attempts. 

Chained only with the handcuffs, the human switched between sleeping and resting with his back to the floor staring up at the ceiling.

Once accompanying the captain to feed the prisoner, Krill learned just how unnerving the new human could be.

The captain had just slid the trey through the bars when, suddenly, the man was right there. The captain took a step back in shock. The look on the other human’s face was unnaturally focused eyes narrowed in concentration mouth turned in a wide grin.

“Good morning, Captain.” The man began. The tone of his voice was pleasant enough, though Krill noted the same visceral reaction of the captain whose mouth twitched in disgust hands balling defensively into fists.

“What do you want.” He snapped

“Oh come now, captain. I just wanted to make a friendly greeting to someone who has graciously taken care of me.” Krill watched as the man eyed the captaining up and down expression almost hungry as he did so.

“You can take your thanks and shove them up your ass.” The captain growled.

The man frowned, “Such an aversion to someone you know nothing about.”

“I know your a psycho. Don’t need a degree to tell you that.”He growled quietly, “Come on, Krill.”The captain snapped marching them out into the hall and slamming the door behind him.

Captain Vir must have seen the reaction on his face for he stopped and gave a sigh, “Sometimes people just make you feel wrong. It’s like Evil becomes a physical sensation crawling around inside you like a bucket of maggots.”

Krill shook his head in disgust, no wonder they were so averse to the stranger,

Vir Sighed, “I read the man’s file about a day ago... should never have agreed to this mission. Wouldn’t’ve if I had know what he’d done.”

“And what did he do?”

The captain eyed Krill for a long moment before sighing, “You know humans are a very aggressive race.... we are a species of extremes, and while there is good there is evil, and that man broke one of the two greatest taboos in human society.”

“And what are those?” Krill asked nervously.

“The two are Cannibalism and Incest.”

Krill gave a little squeak of horror upon hearing the definition of the two words. He even gave a little step back from the captain horrified that a species could even be capable of such behavior.

The captain held out a hand, “I said it’s Taboo, Krill. Meaning NORMAL people are disgusted by it.”

Krill swallowed hard, “And which one did he do.”

Vir gave a short hiss, “When they caught him, they also found the remains of at least five separate people. When they couldn’t find the rest he admitted to cooking them up and eating them.”

If Krill could have been sick he would have.

Psychopathy was a new word for Krill, and he quickly learned the meaning just a day out from the last station when accompanying the captain to move the prisoner. Despite their distrust, they shouldn’t have grown so complacent. 

They should have left on the proper restraints.

Instead they had chained him by one hand to the bars, while they cleared his cell.

The captain was replacing the bedding when it happened. A loud snap and a roar of pain. Krill turned to find the prisoner rushing towards him. One of his hands had been mangled beyond recognition. The man had broken his own thumb in order to slip it from the cuffs.

Krill was knocked out of the way, thrown violently against the wall where he lay dazed and confused.

The thing that had knocked him aside barreled past and slammed into the prisoner. 

The captain and the prisoner were tossed to the ground in a heap of thrashing limbs and fists. Krill curled back in terror.

The captain gave a scream and Krill turned away mortified as the prisoner came up for air, Grin dripping with blood.

More solid striking noises. A desperate fight.

Krill peered out from behind his cowering limbs just in time to see the captain demonstrate a human phenomenon he had heard about but never seen. He lifted the prisoner from his chest and hurled him back. So powerful was the throw, that the other man slammed into the wall feet away. He was up in seconds pinning the man back against the wall as teeth snapped inches from his neck.

Krill could hear voices from the other side of the door.

But it was too late, the captain had already made his decision. The knife appeared in his hand a moment later. 

Krill had never seen a human fight before much less death. But he watched the knife vanish and then reappear covered in blood first once and then twice then three times. Blood gurgled from the prisoner’s mouth in a sputtering laugh.

He collapsed to the floor, and the captain staggered away hands covered in blood. He eyed the corpse long after the heart had failed. 

The door was thrown open moments later.

Men rushed in.

They moved towards the captain and the fallen corpse.

Trying to get close, the captain jerked away hands over his face slowly backing away from the other humans.

He backed over to the wall next to krill and slid down. HIs face was pale eyes wide, nothing like his attacker. His skin appeared clammy and cold.

A lot of species are afraid of humans, but oddly enough Krill knew the truth. Humans weren’t scary in general. They were protective and aggressive, but they were honest and friendly. Humans were made to adapt well in a social environments, they were good companions to have. Humans that couldn’t preform socially were immediately ostracized and rejected by other humans. This is why psychopathy is so profoundly disturbing. The intentional rejection of proper social action makes other humans uncomfortable and even aggressive. It’s a primitive response, but useful when you want to know who is and is not dangerous. 

[endlesssummer77]

CICO works (with help from Contrave)

I'm never doing a fad diet again. Over the course of the past 5 months, I've slowly, but surely, lost a little over 30 lbs. How? CICO and contrave.

Contrave has changed my life. I know that sounds a little dramatic, but it's true. I can't believe it took me so long to get started on it. I'd had an almost-full bottle (120 pills) that Mom let me have last year when I visited for Christmas. She had gotten them prescribed because she wanted to try them out, but couldn't tolerate the side effects (she said they made her really irritable 😒).

Anyway, I was curious but skeptical. Contrave contains bupropion (antidepressant) and naltrexone (opioid antagonist), and not a single stimulant - or anything else that's been well-studied for weight loss. I'm not one to bother with OTC diet pills (they're pretty much all the same anyway) because they're unregulated and unproven, but I have been on phentermine a few times. Unfortunately, phentermine treatment is limited to 12 weeks at a time, and the awesome appetite suppressant effects diminishes quite a bit after the first few weeks, anyway.

I had a general idea of how contrave could work (background info: I have a formal education in human anatomy & physiology, biochemistry, introductory pharmacology, and human pathophysiology):

1. Naltrexone blocks endogenous opioids from attaching to opiate receptors, an action which mediates a dopamine response (dopamine is fundamental to the brain's reward center and the development of addiction). By blocking these receptors, one could theoretically reduce or eliminate the biochemical process that reinforces addictive behavior. This has already been extensively researched as a treatment for alcoholism.

2. Bupropion is an NE (aka adrenaline) and dopamine reuptake inhibitor. This means that bupropion prevents the "stop" of NE and dopamine activity, which leads to a whole bunch of other effects. Bupropion is chemically related to amphetamines, which explains this effect on certain neurotransmitters, but it also stimulates the release of 2 other molecules, alpha MSH and AGRP, which are involved in a lot of autonomic processes in the body, including regulation of appetite and energy expenditure. Most research that exists has focused on the psychological effects of bupropion as it is normally used to treat depression and to help people quit smoking.

So here's the interesting part:

Those 2 other molecules that are stimulated by bupropion? They each play a vital role in explaining how bupropion could be effective for weight loss:

a) alpha MSH does a lot of things, including appetite reduction and increases in energy expenditure (metabolism). Theoretically then, you could take just bupropion for weight loss right? Well, no. Like nearly every physiological process in our bodies, the cells that release a-MSH have a self-limiting feature to stop the whole process from going on indefinitely. Otherwise, humans could run out of energy needed to live.

b) This limiting feature works because cells release AGRP at the same time as a-MSH. AGRP's only function is to attach back to the cell that released it. When enough AGRP has attached, a signal is sent inside the cell telling it to stop producing both a-MSH and AGRP.

This basically means that no matter how much bupropion you take, its weight loss effects are going to be limited by your body's natural processes.

So back to my point, how does contrave work, exactly? I've already explained how it can help reduce appetite and increases metabolism via release of a-MSH, and how this process is self-limited by the concurrent release of AGRP. Theoretically, if we could find a way to eliminate or block AGRP without affecting a-MSH, then the potential of bupropion for weight control could be significant.

Well, here's the kicker... AGRP IS A TYPE OF BETA ENDORPHIN!

It's an endogenous opioid! This means that the sites AGRP attach to on a cell can be blocked by naltrexone without limiting a-MSH!

FYI, I didn't know any of this stuff until this past weekend, when I basically gave myself a mini neurochemistry lesson using articles available on PubMed. And sorry, I didn't bookmark any of them to use as references here.

Back to the story -

When I began contrave, I wasn't expecting much of anything. The bottle sat in my kitchen for a few months before I gave it a go, and even then it wasn't for weight loss. My psych was planning on possibly adding bupropion to my regimen anyway, so I figured I may as well try it out. Here's how things went:

Side effects are minimal due to the titration (slow increase) in dose that is prescribed to most people. The only thing I noticed was a short period of GI discomfort (nausea mostly) a few hours after taking a pill, but this stopped happening after about a week. It's probably due to the opioid receptors found in intestinal walls (something new I learned from my weekend of "research" lol) which affect intestinal motility. This is why opioids cause constipation, while opioid withdrawal produces nausea and diarrhea.

Price: you can go to the contrave website and get connected to a teledoctor who can write you a Rx (I used this service when I ran out of the bottle my mom had given me; consultation was $45). You can choose to have it sent to a local pharmacy, or use their preferred mail pharmacy, which charges $99 total to ship you a month's worth of medication. I chose this option because retail pharmacy prices are much higher. Total price: $144.00 first month, $99 monthly afterwards.

Insurance: most plans do not cover weight loss medications; mine certainly doesn't. The teledoctors they use also do not accept any insurance.

Regimen: you titrate up every week, starting with 1 pill/day during the first week (90mg bupropion+8mg naltrexone) until you get to 4 pills a day (360mg bupropion + 32mg naltrexone, all extended release).

Weight loss: at first, I had almost no faith that contrave would be effective for weight loss. I started off eating a 1200 cal/day (loosely tracked) and working out 1x a week. I'm still doing that, actually. I should also add that I used to crash diet a lot, often restricting myself to 500 cal a day, so I honestly didn't believe that staying under 1200 cal a day would actually do anything. Because of this irrational belief, I avoided the scale a lot. At some point - when I was up to 2-3 pills/day - I began to notice that I could go long periods of time without wanting or needing food. Even when I was physically hungry, eating felt like more of a chore. A few weeks after that started happening, some coworkers began commenting on my weight loss, which totally surprised me. I finally got the courage to weigh myself, and I was DOWN. 15. POUNDS. This all over the course of about 3 months.

Obviously, I was very encouraged by that, so I decided to continue with it. I'm basically doing the same now as I was then - 1200 cal/day (loosely) plus 1-2 days/week intense workouts (mostly CrossFit). It's now been 5 months and I'm down 32.6 lbs, to be exact.

Contrave has changed my life. It's like my brain has been reset; the damage done by all those years of starving and bingeing has been reversed. I have a normal relationship with food now: I eat when I'm hungry and stop when I'm satiated. I prepare nearly every meal I eat, which has eliminated almost all unhealthy, overprocessed foods from my diet. I'm trying to up my activity level, but I'm extremely busy with a full time job and another degree that I'm pursuing, leaving me pretty sleep-deprived during the weekdays. But weight loss is mostly diet, anyway.

I am more hopeful now than ever that I can achieve lasting weight loss. And the best part is that there's really no reason I can't be on contrave indefinitely, or for at least a few years. Bupropion is a medication that's already taken on a long term basis without issue. Naltrexone can damage the liver so it is typically not used long term; however, this effect has mostly been observed in people taking much higher doses of naltrexone (300mg+). Contrave contains a much smaller, extended release dose (32mg in 4 pills) that is even less than the dose used to treat alcoholism (50mg).

I'll update again when I remember to, lol. Hopefully I'll be down another 30 lbs 😁

[find-the-eyes]

I’ll Try Anything Once: Chapter 36

Written by: Sol, Allegra Edited by: Beth, Allegra, Sol

“Nick, calm down.”

Nick felt a hand on his leg once again and opened his eyes to see that he was furiously kicking and thrashing. The only difference from last time was that this kicking and thrashing wasn’t purposeful, and it didn’t feel good at all. And it wouldn’t stop. Nick did everything in his power to calm his flailing legs, but he couldn’t. He had never felt so helpless. His arms thrashed out at his sides. Where was Alex? He arched off the bed, gagging as his breathing tube shifted. His blanket came undone and dropped to the floor. He felt himself sliding towards the edge of the bed to join it.

“Nick!” He felt hands on both of his legs now, and a hand on either arm. Through his half-lidded eyes he saw three nurses, doing their best to restrain him as his legs kicked out and convulsed wildly. His arms thrashed violently now, the IVs in his forearms nearly ripping out of his skin. After a few minutes, Nick felt his body slowing down, suddenly crashing from his wild attack. His head lolled to the side as he felt hands adjusting his breathing tube, gently bringing him back to reality. His head was spinning and he couldn’t stop tears escaping from his eyes.

Two of the nurses talked in hushed voices at the doorway, glancing back at Nick occasionally. Finally, after a few moments, they returned to Nick’s side.

“You’re going to have a brain scan later,” the blonde nurse said. “We need you awake for it, so we’re going to take you off the sedatives for now.”

Nick couldn't even find the strength to nod, so he simply looked at her, hoping she understood.

She put the communication board on Nick’s lap. “Would you like to do anything while we’re waiting to do the brain scan? Your friends are art students, right? Would you like to draw?”

Yes.

“Alright, I’ll be right back.”

Don’t leave. Don’t leave.

“Ah…” She glanced around the room and spotted the notebook that was still sitting on the counter from when Alex was writing in it a few days before. “Is this ok?”

Yes. Thank you.

Nick held the notebook close, and as soon as the nurse left he opened it to a blank page. He grabbed the pen next to him and just started writing. He didn’t know where the words were coming from, but they needed to get out. His arms jerked and twitched as he wrote, but he tried to fight it. This was important.

When he finished, he folded the letter with shaky hands and laid it on the bedside table, not even bothering to read it over. He had barely placed the pen on the table before his head fell back and he drifted off to sleep, all of his energy gone. All he could hope was that Alex would understand.

A couple of hours later, Nick awoke to a hand on his arm and a gentle voice calling his name. He opened his eyes slowly to the information that they were taking him back for the brain scan. His leg kicked out again.

“It won’t hurt, and it won’t take long,” the nurse reassured him. Nick closed his eyes again, trying to believe her.

—

Alex found the neurology office fairly easily. It was a small room in a distant hallway, far from anything Alex had seen in the hospital before. So many people are suffering here. Is Nick one of the worst? Alex shook the thought and entered the small office when he was called.

“Hi, Alex,” the doctor said when he went in. Her calming energy immediately made Alex feel more at ease.

Alex greeted her and sat down at the desk, not knowing what to say. “Is Nick alright?” he finally managed, fiddling with one of the pens on the desk.

“Well, it doesn’t appear that the kicking and thrashing were anything more than a bad reaction to the sedatives. His reaction increased when they gave him more, and so on.”

“Why did he react like that?”

“Here.” The doctor showed Alex the scan of Nick’s brain. “He has a bit of damage to the language processing and speech areas of his brain, as well as some executive functions like decision making and general cognition. Has he ever mentioned that to you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Alex realized, “he had a different lung injury before all of this and said he had some brain damage from a lack of oxygen.”

“That explains it, then. Does he act normal, usually?”

Alex thought for a moment. “He does have some unusual behaviors, but… he doesn’t need to be normal. He’s perfect to me.”

“Unusual behaviors?” The doctor leaned closer to Alex. “Can you tell me what you mean?”

“Uhh…” Alex felt uncomfortable talking about Nick’s issues with a complete stranger, when he wasn’t there to speak up for himself. “Well, he has bad dreams a lot...he’s stolen some things before...he has trouble reading and speaking, and he doesn’t always make eye contact when he’s talking to someone new.” Alex paused, then continued with a sigh. “Nick told me that it all started with the initial brain damage that he got from being shot. He doesn’t really have any physical issues, though.”

The doctor nodded. “All of that definitely could be connected to how he reacted. We think the thrashing was caused by a reaction with the part of his brain that controls movement. Rather than turning off, like it usually does with sedatives, it tried to reject them. Because of that, his body didn’t want to accept the sedatives.”

“Oh…” Alex nodded along thoughtfully and pretended to understand what the neurologist was telling him.

“The good news is that he’s been off the sedatives for a few hours now and he’s doing perfectly fine! You’re allowed to go see him now, if you’d like.”

Alex beamed and thanked the neurologist as he left the small office.

—

Alex walked into Nick’s room to find him fast asleep. He smiled when he saw that the IV giving him sedatives had been removed. He walked over to Nick and brushed the hair off his forehead. Nick stirred at the touch and his eyes lit up when he realized that it was Alex. He lifted his right arm and stretched it out as far as he could, smacking his palm against the bedside table. Alex blinked in confusion for a moment before he noticed the folded paper atop the table. “Is this for me?” he asked. Nick gave him a weak thumbs up of approval.

At that moment, a nurse rushed in, saying something about needing to check on Nick. She rushed Alex out of the room before he could even ask Nick about the piece of paper.

Once he was alone in the hallway, Alex unfolded the piece of paper. He held it gently, trying to decipher Nick’s messy handwriting.

--

A lex

Thank you so much for putting up with me Im sory you have to see me like this It hurts a lot so bad and Im scared but pleas dont worry I cant wait to go home and pet Steckrübe again and Play music again but not do anyt hin g dumb this time Because I Ive learned now maybe I shouldnt stage dive until they tell me its okay

But right now it hurts I want to go home but they wont let me I want t o get up but they won’t let me I Miss being able to speak I dont feel like I have a body anmore it just hurts so much But  when youre here I forget You make me happy  Please bring Steck next time I miss him

I’m sorry I didn't listen to you I feel like a bad Flatmate Im sory I cant do anthing to help you out

Im scared I wont get better it Hurts it hurts and I dont know why it hurts so much I still cant breathe Im Scared I wont be able to

My body is kicking thrashing I cant stop it wont stop Im so   tired but I cant sleep it wont Help Im terrified

You saved me

I want to be with you Im sorry I couldnt tell you that niht  it hurt too bad I want to be yours

I love you so much Alex Ive loved you from the first night you Visited me at the prisonn You accept me ffor who I am and you ne ver get mad at me Evn when I deserve it I deseve it 

Thank you Than k you Thank you for saving me I love you I love you I love you Alex I love you

--

Alex braced himself against the wall, trembling as he clutched the paper. Nick loves me. He meant it the other day. And I didn’t listen.

Alex folded the piece of paper again and ran back into the room as soon as the nurse left. The heart monitor started beeping faster than Alex had ever seen it beep before as he approached Nick’s bed. He laughed softly and believed for a moment that Nick was giving a small smile as well. Was he? Maybe it was just the lighting. Alex ignored the beeping and held Nick’s hand. “I love you too,” he said softly. “So much. And you're going to get better.” Alex ran a hand through Nick’s hair. “And I’m sorry for trying to talk about our relationship when you were in so much pain. I should have known better.” Nick started furiously tapping the I love you box on his board, blinking back tears as he looked up at Alex.

Suddenly, a nurse rushed into the room. “Is everything alright in here?” she asked, obviously concerned by the sudden, rapid beeping. Alex dropped Nick’s hand, instantly brought back to the reality of the situation as he remembered the condition Nick was in. He opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t form the words.

“Just…don't get him overexcited, yeah?” the nurse sighed as Nick’s heart rate slowed back to normal. “He’s still in critical condition and we want him to make it out alive, after all.”

“Alright,” Alex said sheepishly. The nurse gave him a stern look and walked out.

Nick’s eyes were bright, but he wasn’t smiling. He couldn’t. There was no way he could do anything more than move his eyes and his hands. He still had to make it out of the hospital alive before Alex could even think about the future. Was it better to be hopeful or to prepare himself for the worst?

Alex looked back down at Nick and realized that his eyes were still so full of love, searching for an answer from Alex, an answer neither of them could find.

“I love you, Nick,” Alex ran his hand through Nick’s hair, “I really do.”

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Little Pieces

Author: BlackBubbleTea

Year: 2009

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Naboo/Bollo

By the time they reached home, it was quite late. There was almost no one left on the streets to stare at the tiny, highly inebriated man falling all over himself, accompanied by a less drunk but still somewhat tipsy gorilla who was doing his best to guide the former back to their flat without either ending up with any great injuries from that mortal enemy of all drunks – the hard, unforgiving sidewalk. It hadn’t been a completely successful mission; Naboo was definitely going to have a few bruises on his knees. But given exactly how much he’d drank that evening, it was a miracle that he was getting away with just that. One final obstacle stood between the pair and victory in the Battle of Homecoming, and that was that tonight, of all nights, someone had actually remembered to lock the shop door. “Keys?” Bollo queried after trying the handle. “Thought you had ‘em,” murmured Naboo from his seat on the curb, having plunked down there in a temporary surrender to the forces of gravity that had been out to get him all night. The gorilla patted himself down, foggily trying to retrace back through the madness of the night to when they’d first left the flat, and which one of them might have put the keys in their – only at that point in his train of thought did it occur to him that he was a gorilla, and therefore did not have pockets. Process of elimination found him crouched down by the shaman (who really was not looking so great), gingerly pulling the keys out of a pocket that was never meant to accommodate so huge a hand. He was relatively lucky; the second key on the ring that he tried in the lock happened to be the correct one. But there was little time to celebrate gaining access to their home, as Naboo took this opportunity to vomit all over himself. Bollo groaned. It had really only been a matter of time – that much tequila would’ve done that to anyone. Still, couldn’t he have had the decency to wait the three minutes it would have taken to navigate him up the stairs and dump him in the bathroom? He gave a sigh and went to examine the damage. Naboo looked up at him with what was essentially the most pitiful expression ever; puke all down his front. Briefly, he pondered how much trouble he’d be in the following day if he just hauled him out behind the shop and hosed him off. But even if he hadn’t feared the wrath of a roughly-treated hungover shaman, he knew that sick puppy dog eyes plus shivering would have been a positively lethal combination. Either that or Naboo would try to fight with him, and then he’d just end up with vomit on himself as well. Rather than watch the farce that would be his master trying to navigate through a dark shop and up a flight of stairs, leaving a trail of sick in his wake, Bollo chose to open the door to the Nabootique, then return to the curb and scoop up the shop’s namesake. A brief noise of protest was made, but they both knew that the man hardly had the fortitude to do much more walking. Besides, this way, if he happened to puke again, they might be lucky enough that it’d all just get caught in his robe. One less thing to clean. Or perhaps to make Howard clean, after convincing him that sleep-vomiting was an actual condition and that horrible mess all over the stairs was in fact his fault. Carrying Naboo wasn’t particularly difficult – the real challenge lay in getting up those stairs. Bollo couldn’t hold onto the banister, and wasn’t nearly sober enough to be completely confident in his stair-climbing abilities (usually top-notch). So he took it very slowly, one step at a time, and tried not to envision Howard and Vince waking up to a horrible pile of concussed gorilla, vomit, and squished shaman. He also tried not to look at Naboo, as he was currently kind of disgusting, and the second-to-last thing they needed right now (the last thing being the aforementioned horrible pile) was for some sort of chain reaction puke-a-thon to start. He had made it to the third step from the top when Naboo began making a noise not unlike a cat that had a hairball, and he completely abandoned caution to make a mad dash for the bathroom. The pair did indeed make it there before the shaman commenced being sick once again – Naboo limp in his arms like some strange pastiche of a bride being brought over the threshold of her new home – but not, unfortunately, to the toilet. One eye twitching slightly, Bollo had to resist the command coming in from every brain cell to drop his friend to the tile as he felt liquid that had been in a shot glass when last he’d seen it begin to seep into his fur. So much for not getting vomit on himself. “M’sorry…” Naboo moaned apologetically. “Yeah,” Bollo grunted in reply, setting him on his feet. “Bollo draw bath.” The floor in here was going to be filthy, but he would just have to deal with that later. After clumsily fitting the plug into the drain and turning on the faucet, he turned back to face Naboo, who was remaining standing only by virtue of the fact that he was leaning heavily against the wall. He sighed at the blank look he received back and instructed, “Lift arms…” This, at least, was not a task too difficult for the intoxicated shaman, and he complied, allowing Bollo to slip his robe off over his head. The turban he had worn out that night was long gone, and that was something everyone was going to be sure to hear complaints about the following morning (or, more realistically, afternoon) – it was the second one he had lost in a month. He knelt down to gently lift up first one skinny ankle then the other, pulling off the curled-toe trainers and Naboo’s socks, one green and its mismatched mate purple with orange stripes. The shaman simply watched as he fumbled with the button on his trousers. So many of these human things, they were far too tiny for his thick fingers. At least he didn’t have to trouble with the zipper, as he was able to slide the waistband down over bony hips once the button was loose, absentmindedly thinking to himself that he really ought to try to get Naboo to expand his diet a bit from crisps, booze, and whatever weird stuff they dug out of the back of the refrigerator when the munchies struck. Nudity had never been a matter of particular concern between them, especially not to Bollo, who was essentially always naked – under his fur, of course. As different as their backgrounds might have been, one commonality they had was that neither had ever been instilled with that very human sense of shame for one’s own body. Which worked out quite well, because whether that had been there or not, when you shared a room with someone it was basically inevitable that you saw their ass from time to time. A bit more frequently if they had a habit of getting so drunk or stoned that their clothing became, to their mind, an unfathomable labyrinth of fabric. Still, perhaps there was something off about this, he thought as he tugged down gold boxer shorts. He could imagine the looks on their two roommate’s faces were they to walk in on the pair – all scrunched up and uncomfortable in the way that let you know something was definitely wrong. But they couldn’t understand. They never knew Naboo in his moments like these, when he couldn’t even remember how to take care of himself. They never saw the lost look in his eyes when all of the shaman’s wisdom had failed him. “Ugh, it’s in m’hair,” the small man slurred as Bollo was divesting him of his shorts. Since it was a pretty self-evident statement, he chose not to respond, merely lifted him into the now-filled tub and twisted the faucet handle off once he was sure that Naboo at least temporarily understood the concept of sitting up. Peering down first at the pale form in the bath, then at the dark patches where sick had leaked onto his fur, Bollo thought for a moment and then climbed in to sit behind Naboo. It would go faster this way, and besides, if he wasn’t supervising then there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t end up with a drowned Xooberonian on his hands. He had barely settled himself in when Naboo leaned back and limply rested his head against Bollo’s collarbone. “Turban’s lost again, innit?” Bollo made a soft noise of assent, carefully combing his fingers through the damp ends of the shaman’s hair. It was lank and tangled now, but maintained its glossy sheen even with puke as a substitute for product. Many lady gorillas, he thought, would have killed for such a lovely shade of black. He knew it was kind of strange when he thought things like that, but he also knew that Naboo cuddling up against him while he was naked was probably even stranger. “M’sorry.” The repetition of the apology was halfway muffled against his fur. “It okay,” Bollo replied. “Just don’t get sick in tub.” “I won’t. Feel better, now.” “Good. Turn head.” Apparently that action required that Naboo, with much difficulty, squirm his way into Bollo’s lap before turning his head to the side so the gorilla, who made a small noise that was equal parts disgruntled and disconcerted, could get at the rest of his hair. That they were so close wasn’t exactly the thing that bothered him. It was more how comfortable he felt; how well Naboo seemed to fit against him. Maybe if they were always like this, it wouldn’t be so hard to protect the shaman, but Naboo seemed to harbor a general distaste for closeness while he was sober. It made it all the more strange when he’d get affectionate like this. Or maybe he was just confusing affection with loss of bodily control. The two did tend to be similar. And that was another thing that bothered Bollo, the way Naboo wouldn’t quit shifting against him. He couldn’t really feel the softness of the skin that was sliding against his coarse fur, but he could when his fingers ghosted over one pale shoulder to scoop water onto it. And he could feel a pulse gently beating just below that skin as he ran one wet hand against Naboo’s neck to remove a sticky trail of mostly-tequila, the small man complacently tilting his head up to allow him easier access. It made his stomach twist in a way that felt wrong but also a bit exciting to think that touching any part of the shaman would probably only be met with the same groggy compliance. Gingerly, he ran an exploratory hand down past Naboo’s collarbone on the pretense of making sure his chest was clean, and his fingers caught briefly on a hard nipple. It spurred on his uncomfortable curiosity, and he continued down, following the trail of sparse dark hair. So exposed, humans were. Completely vulnerable to the elements with no real coat to speak of. But then, Naboo wasn’t human. Bollo often forgot this, but if he had been, then the hair ought to have grown thicker, the further he went. Instead it was nothing but soft skin, softer even than his shoulders or neck. Naboo also forgot that Bollo wasn’t human, on occasion. He had told him so. When he was high, of course. It was because of his eyes, he’d said. Blue – not like other gorillas. Which was funny, because the black coffee color of Naboo’s eyes had always reminded him more of an animal than any man he’d ever known. They were closed now, covered by long dark lashes that fluttered slightly in tandem with a barely detective twitch of the shaman’s muscles. It only then occurred to him that he had his hand between Naboo’s legs, but it was not until the silence was broken by a soft puff of air exhaled against his chest that something raw and dark swirled up within him, something that made him not want to stop but that he only understood well enough to know that he had to, and that he had better get out of that bathtub right away. Bollo carefully slid out from underneath Naboo then stood up and stepped out of the tub, unable to make himself care that he was dripping on the floor. After grabbing a towel and halfway drying off, he reached down to yank the chain attached to the drain stopper. As the water began to softly burble down towards the sewer, he took both of Naboo’s hands and helped – or perhaps, more accurately, pulled – him up, made sure he stayed in an upright position as he stepped over the slippery porcelain, and wordlessly handed him a towel. He resumed drying himself, feeling very awkward. It was not an emotion he felt often, but something learned after spending so much time with humans – something necessary after spending so much time with humans. Naboo had simply wrapped the towel around himself, droplets of water still clinging in his hair. Well, if he wanted to go to bed damp then that was his business. After all, Bollo couldn’t do everything for him, could he? He shouldn’t. He wasn’t a person. He didn’t play any of the roles that people created for each other. Familiars were for magic, and they belonged to shamans, not the other way around. Of course there was a part of him that was wondering if Naboo might get sick if he slept with his hair wet, but that part was always there. It was the same part that tried to figure out how to get more fruit into his diet, that made him tea, and that put up with weird rules and even weirder jobs, bossiness, crankiness, and general ungratefulness for everything he did. He didn’t know if it was the same part that wanted to be close to him and understand all the little pieces of him, especially the ones he kept guarded until he’d gotten quite drunk or high, but if it was then maybe he ought to start telling it to be quiet. There were things they had down in the shop – statuettes, vases, dead butterflies pinned in boxes – that were nice to look at but were not things you were supposed to touch a lot. You might like to pick them up and feel that they were yours, but one wrong move and you might find all the little pieces you were trying to examine as just that – little pieces, broken and scattered all over the floor. He thought that this might be something similar. The sense of something being wrong and off-limits was there, at least, but it seemed to him that the feeling of want was so much stronger, and so much more difficult to understand than a simple fascination with a shiny trinket. He had nothing to say and was not even sure that he ought to say anything. Opening the door, Bollo nodded in the direction of the room they shared, then flipped the light off and padded out, a second pair of smaller feet shuffling after him and undoubtedly leaving a wet trail behind them. When they reached the bedroom, Naboo wasted no time in flopping down on the bed, the towel still drawn about his shoulders like a cape on the least effective superhero ever. “Thanks, Bollo,” he murmured as the ape’s thick hand pulled the duvet onto him. “You’re the best.” Oh, if only he had a tape recorder or some other way to quote that tomorrow when it’d be nothing but surly expressions and whined demands of, “Where’s my turban? Why’d you let me drink so much? Why’s the bathroom such a mess?” But you take what you can get. He knew Naboo wouldn’t have minded if he shared the bed tonight. He was allowed to as long as he was clean and didn’t hog the blankets (as if he ever even had that option with the way the shaman would cocoon himself into them). Still, he opted for the futon for reasons he couldn’t quite explain to himself. There were many things he could not explain. Among animals, it was a given that there were sometimes things that defied explanation. There were times when they would laugh at humans, so obsessed with having all things around them make perfect sense. But lying there in the dark, listening to the calm rhythm of his master’s breathing and still feeling soft skin against his fingertips and a twisting in his belly, he believed that he was beginning to understand that compulsion. Sometimes, the things that didn’t make sense were the most important ones.

[feelingfredly]

Tea for Three?

Part 3 of the Better Living Through Chemistry series

Grimmjow was a surprisingly good companion—Ichigo refused to call him a date, no matter what Nelliel said—the only problem was his enthusiasm.

And his ego.

Oh, and don’t forget the fact that he constantly forgot they were surrounded by humans.

Okay, he was a horrible date, but it was still good to not be the only one in the audience looking at the kickboxing “experts” and thinking they’d last about a minute and a half in a real fight.

“Sit down, you idiot,” Ichigo hissed, for what seemed like the fiftieth time. “I told you, they don’t take challengers.  Anyway, you’re in a fucking gigai.   What makes you think you could take them anyway?”

Grimmjow growled and dropped back onto the bench. “I could take that asshole in the black with my teeth. I can smell his fear from here.” He pulled his lips back in a feral grin and Ichigo had to admit, they were impressive teeth for a gigai.   Kisuke’d even let him keep the almost-fangs. “Everything he does is for show and then he runs away where the other guy can’t hit him.  Fucking coward.”

Ichigo made a noise that could have been agreement.  “The guy in white has great range, though.  I thought he was going to pull the guy over completely when he grabbed that last kick. Good leverage.”

Grimmjow grunted. “Should’ve just broken his ankle.  Gloves are for weaklings.”

Ichigo didn’t argue.

They sat like that, alternating between hunched forward staring intently and throwing themselves back in their seats in frustration as the fights went on, until neither of them could stand it anymore.

“Race you to the training grounds at the shōten.”

The almost-fangs shone in a blood-thirsty answer. “Thought you’d never ask.”

***

They trash talked as they raced through the streets of Karakura and Ichigo had to fight Zangetsu down more than once, his inner hollow feeding on the aggression.

“Aw, is the Baby Hollow giving you a hard time, Kurosaki?” Grimmjow laughed at the glimmer of gold that Ichigo knew was edging the brown of his eyes.

“Fuck you, Grimm,” he said, tripping the taller man as they turned the last corner before the straightaway towards the shōten. “Zan would wipe the floor with you, gigai or not.”

He could hear the crazy laugh in his inner world and growled internally. Don’t get any ideas. Grimm is MY fight.

Zangetsu giggled again. Sure, King. Fight. Right. Say it a little louder and maybe you’ll believe that’s all he is.

Ichigo frowned and ignored the taunt.  Zan had jabbed at him more than once about the time he spent with Grimmjow, whether they were arguing or sparring or trying to sort out what exactly was going to happen now that Aizen wasn’t running Hueco Mundo. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the white bastard was jealous. And Kisuke was no help.  He just smiled and said that it made sense for Zan to want to prove his dominance over the nearest hollow, and if Ichigo was going to continue spending time with Grimmjow, he should either get used to his inner world being a constant snarkfest, or give in and let Zan have it out with Grimm once and for all.

That sounded like a recipe for disaster of absolutely Kisuke proportions.

“Cheating bastard.” Grimmjow laughed and scrambled to his feet so fast it was as if he’d never lost his balance. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Kurosaki.”

“You have no idea what I have in me,” Ichigo said, throwing himself forward at full speed.  Even in his human form he could feel his reiatsu humming along his skin, and he couldn’t wait to hit the training ground to beat Grimmjow and Zangetsu both back into line.

They hit the door of the shōten at almost the same time, but Ichigo had the edge of familiarity and he had the door in his hand before Grimmjow could grab it. “Beat you, Grimm.”

Grimmjow snorted and leaned against the wall, the only sign of their hell-for-leather race being his breathing a little more heavily than usual. “What was that? You wanted to use all that practice you’ve gotten beating off, eh, Kurosaki? Why didn’t you just say so? Didn’t have to…”

“Shut it, asshole,” Ichigo slammed the door, just missing Grimmjow’s foot, “save it for downstairs.”

Just then Kisuke wandered out of his lab, hair mussed like he’d been running his fingers through it. “Grimmjow-san! Ichigo-kun! Welcome back! I didn’t expect to see you so early. I take it the kickboxing tournament failed to hold your attentions?”

Grimmjow pushed off the wall and sauntered across the room. “Tournament? Bunch of losers you mean.  One adjuchas could’ve kicked all ten of their asses, and then eaten the damn trophy at the end. Right, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo hated to agree with him, but he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah. It was a little frustrating, honestly.  Too much padding.  Too many rules.  Made us want a real fight.  I thought we’d use the training ground and burn off some steam before Grimm headed back to Hueco Mundo.”

Kisuke looked from one to the other and then shook his head a little apologetically. “Oh, but Ichigo-kun, don’t you remember?  The experiment I’ve been working on is finally ready, and you promised to help me test it this evening.  I’d say that it could wait, but unfortunately the compounds in this batch are quite volatile.”

Ichigo groaned.   Right now, the last thing he wanted was to do another one of Kisuke’s tea drugging experiments, but he couldn’t back out.  Kisuke’d been working on this one for three weeks.

“I’d totally forgotten.  Crap. Sorry Grimm, but I’m going to have to take a raincheck on the fight.”

Grimmjow wasn’t having it. “What the fuck is so important that it can’t wait until I’ve kicked your ass around a little?  We weren’t even going to be back for another hour, and it won’t take me that long to beat you into a bloody pulp.  Then the mad scientist over here can use what’s left for his experiments.  Win/win. Everybody’s happy.”

Zangetsu hissed in the corner of his brain. Let me kick his big blue ass, King.  I’ll take him apart until he’s nothing but little pieces that Kisuke can let Benihime practice sewing on. Fucking prick.  All talk.  Let’s fuck him up so badly that you’ll have to throw him through the garganta back to Hueco Mundo.

Ichigo knew from the look on Kisuke’s face that Zan had taken enough of a hold on him that his eyes were bleeding to gold.  Fuck, this wasn’t what he’d planned for this evening.

“Grimmjow-san, I am sorry to say that the bloody pulp would not be sufficient for my experiments,” Kisuke gave a little bow, “although I appreciate your willingness to adapt your plans to suit mine. For this experiment, though, I need Ichigo-kun at his strongest.  He will have to be to deal with the effects of the tea.”

A blue eyebrow rose. “Tea?” The disbelief was palpable. “Is this one of those tea drugging things Kurosaki was whining about a couple weeks ago?  I mean what?  You made him throw up for a couple hours.  Surely that isn’t something that he’d have to be in top form.   Or are you going to actually poison him for real this time?”

Ichigo shoved him.  Hard.  The bastard barely moved, though, and that just pissed him off more. “If Kisuke says I have to be in top form, then I have to be in top form.  You’re just lucky you’re not the one getting dosed.  You’d probably be crying in a corner like a kitten when it was over.  Asshole.”

Grimmjow stepped into him, forcing him to look up to meet his eyes. “Anything you can take, Kurosaki, I can take twice over.  Fucking drugged tea.  Give me a break.  He’s probably going to dose you with a sleeping pill so he can finally have a quiet night without listening to you whine.”

Kisuke stepped forward. “Boys, boys, calm down.”  He raised his hands placatingly. “I’d really rather not have to close the shop because you two ripped the displays apart.  Again.”

The two of them separated looking a little sheepish.  Well, Ichigo looked sheepish.  Grimmjow just looked pissed.

“Grimmjow-san, coincidentally enough, you might find the experiment interesting after all.  It was, in fact, designed to interact with Zangetsu-san, so it should, in fact, affect you as well.”

Broad shoulders rolled back at the challenge couched in Kisuke’s voice. “If the white punk could take it, then I can.”

Gray eyes turned to Ichigo and a blond brow rose in silent query.  The penny dropped, and Ichigo remembered what Kisuke had told him about this particular experiment.

 Hollows, no matter how evolved, whether they’re like Zangetsu-san or the Arrancar, are more driven by instinct than humans or Shinigami or Quincies.  At the bottom of every interaction you will find one of the major impetuses—fight, flight, or, to be blunt, fuck.  Most of them revert to flight.  The stronger ones fight.  Very few fuck.  What if we could find a formula that would change that? It would be much easier to kill a hollow that’s trying to chase an orgasm than one that’s trying to kill you, ne?

At the time it had sounded impossible and insane, but honestly many of Kisuke’s best/worst ideas started that way. And now… he’d done it. Or he’d gotten close enough that he wanted to try it on Zan and he didn’t think it would do any lasting damage if it didn’t work.

Zan’s wild laughter had quieted, but the anger still simmered deep inside and Ichigo wondered what the hollow would be like if he was just horny instead of murderous all the time.

What would Grimmjow be like?

That was what Kisuke was asking, wasn’t it?  Did Ichigo want to include Grimm in this mad trial? What would the brutal attention he brought to his fights be like if it was turned into sex? Did Ichigo want to bring that into their lives?  Into their bedroom?

“Two test cases are always better data sources than one, Ichigo-kun.”  A sly smirk spread across Kisuke’s face and Ichigo could feel a flush begin to crawl up his neck and across his cheekbones as his jeans became just a little tighter.

“Fuck it.  Bring on the tea, Kisuke,” he said, flinging himself onto the cushions by the low table in the lounge. “First one to cry uncle loses.”

***

“Now, Grimmjow-san,” Kisuke had brewed two cups of his best matcha and set them in front of Ichigo along with two glass vials filled with dark amber liquid, “normally I wouldn’t inform you of the expected effects of one of my experiments due to the possibility that foreknowledge would skew your reactions, but because you are coming into this totally blind I find myself in a quandry.  Most people would tell you I have no morals to speak of, and they’re typically correct, but I cannot in good faith let you take part in this without your understanding and consent.”

Grimmjow was shifting on his cushion clearly wanting to get to the next stage of the action, whatever that action was, but Ichigo couldn’t help but appreciate the fact that Kisuke was at least trying not to take advantage of the big idiot.

“Yeah, yeah, so what’s this going to do?  Make me howl at the moon?  I already do that sometimes, you know. Roar, not howl, but it’s pretty close.”  He grinned, and Ichigo could just imagine him on the dunes of Hueco Mundo roaring into the night, all the other hollows running in fear from the sound.

��Yes, it isn’t quite that simple, Grimmjow-san.”  Kisuke knelt in a graceful seiza and reached for one of the vials. “If I asked you what drives you, what would you say?”

It only took a second for him to answer. “The fight.  Being the one that’s still standing. That’s what it all comes down to.”

“This,” Kisuke waggled the vial, “will change that.  You’ll still have a drive, and it’ll ride you as hard as your desire to fight, but it won’t be the same.  You may want to run—to flee from whatever you see as danger.   You may want to fuck your way through it, to survive and thrive by spreading your seed as far and wide as you can.  I don’t know.  All I know is that while you’re under the effects of the formula, you *should* react differently than you normally do.”

Grimmjow made a sound in his throat like he had a hairball. “Flee my ass.  I’ve never run from anything in my life and no fucking formula is going to change that.  Fucking?  I don’t care about that, but who’m I going to fuck?   You?  The Berry over here? If you’re saying I’m going to sit around with blue-er balls than usual, I’m going to reconsider this whole thing.”

Kisuke didn’t say anything, but Ichigo couldn’t help but shift his weight slightly and Grimmjow’s eyes widened a fraction when they landed on him. His face was red, he knew, but he wasn’t going to be the one to back out of this.

“Well, well, well,” Grimmjow said, his voice dropping a little lower, his eyes moving from blond to redhead and back again, “not the wrestling match I expected, but I’m game.  Any other side-effects you want to mention before we get this show started?”

Kisuke shook his head and shifted until he could lounge more comfortably. “Well, there are always unforeseen side effects, but they should be minimal.”

Grimmjow looked back and forth between them once more and then took the vial and downed it before raising his cup of tea in a salute.  “Good enough.  If I end up bald or with an extra leg, I’ll just kill you tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Kisuke laughed and removed his hat back in a show of rare openness.  “If that happens, you are more than welcome to try.”

Ichigo reached for his matcha and the other vial. “You’re lucky you’re not getting the pink spotted camouflage tea, Grimm. I should’ve gotten a medal for that one.” He slugged back his dose and made a face.  It tasted terrible.  Again.

“Pink spotted camouflage?” Grimmjow’s voice cracked and Ichigo thought he looked a little panicked at the idea. “What the actual fuck?”

“I don’t know, Grimm,” he said and settled back to sip his tea. “It’s Kisuke. What can you expect?”

***

Zangetsu was quiet, and it was making Ichigo nervous.

“Kisuke?” He looked across the table at the blond and sighed. They’d shifted from tea to sake, but he was still not feeling anything but a little warm around the edges. “I don’t think this is working.  How certain are you about the formula’s projected outcome?”

Kisuke took a sip from his cup and very pointedly did not look at Grimmjow. “Oh, fairly certain, Ichigo-kun.  I expect that you’ll be noticing something shortly.”

The Arrancar growled and sucked in a shaky sounding breath. “Yeah, I can pretty much guarantee that if the bleached bastard isn’t making noise in that noggin of yours, it isn’t because he isn’t feeling it.”

Ichigo couldn’t stop his smirk. “Does that mean you’re feeling something Grimm?  Still want to see what Pantera looks like with a high-gloss coat of blood, or have you lost your taste for it?”

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed and Ichigo could see his throat move in a convulsive swallow. “Not sure you want to tease, Kurosaki,” his voice sounded like it was being dragged across broken glass, “I may want to swing something other than a sword right now, but you covered in blood wouldn’t be a deal breaker.”

Ichigo’s throat worked on its own swallow at that.

Fuck yeah, Zan finally pushed through and Ichigo felt his breath catch at the overwhelming wave of awareness that came with him. Hold him down and lick him open. Stab his pretty hole with my tongue, stab him with my cock. Make him beg.  Make him cry.  Make him come all over himself.  Pull his hair and fuck his mouth and stripe that face with come until he smells like me, tastes like me, aches for me…  fuck, fuck, FUCK.

Ichigo must’ve made a noise because suddenly Kisuke’s eyes were focused on him, measuring. “Ichigo-kun? Everything okay?”

He was too far away.  Ichigo couldn’t feel him.  Couldn’t feel the warmth of his skin.  Couldn’t smell the ink and sandalwood and sword oil that meant Kisuke.

“Finally hit ya, huh?” Grimmjow asked, tossing back the dregs of sake in his cup. “Wondered how long I’d have to wait.”

Ichigo turned to face the Arrancar and could see the wildness flickering in the depths of his gaze.  His face burned because he knew what Zan was saying.  What he was thinking.

“Kisuke?” He pried his gaze away from Grimmjow long enough to ask, “You still have the wards up on the bedroom?”

The blond was already half-way to his feet as he answered, “Yes.”

“Good,” he said, holding on to his control by a thread. “It’s time to move.” He bared his teeth and lunged at Grimmjow with a growl, sinking his teeth into the long tendon there that had been tempting him for longer than he wanted to admit.  “Now.”

***

The futon was barely big enough for the three of them.

Kisuke had hesitated, standing to one side while his measured gaze following Ichigo and Grimmjow as they’d all but attacked each other, but Grimmjow stopped and reached out, his long fingers twisting in the front of his samue, pulling him inexorably closer.

“You don’t get off that easily,” he laughed, dark and suggestive, “or maybe you will, I don’t know.  What does it take to get a mad scientist off, Kurosaki?”

Ichigo pried himself away from Grimmjow’s neck long enough to answer. “He likes it all, Grimm, but if you want to knock his geta off, rubbing his prostate while you’re sucking his cock as deep as possible usually works for me.”

Kisuke visibly shuddered at the words and Grimmjow and Ichigo shared a grin.  “Can’t say I blame him.  Nothing like a good face-fucking to get things started.”

Another time Ichigo might have snarked about how quickly Grimm went to his knees, but watching him strip Kisuke so efficiently, pulling his cock out and licking a strip from crown to balls and back again, drove everything from his head except, “Fuck, yeah.  Just like that. Holy shit that looks amazing.”

Kisuke groaned along with him as he grabbed two handfuls of blue hair, jerking his hips forward just as Grimmjow wrapped his lips around him, the glistening tip of his prick disappearing and then reappearing with a lewdly wet pop. “It feels amazing as well, Ichigo-kun.” He pulled back and angled himself so that his next thrust slid his length along Grimmjow’s jaw, smooth in a gigai, but they were all thinking about the sharp edges of the bone mask that should’ve been there.  Instead, there was a trail of pre-come tracing his jawline that made Ichigo itch to kiss it and taste the combination of slick and skin.

Kisuke reached down and stuck a thumb in the side of Grimmjow’s mouth, “I can’t wait to ruin this pretty mouth,” he said, pumping his cock in alongside it, the tips of his fingers pressing against the hinge of Grimmjow’s jaw holding it open as he fucked into it, “fill your mouth until you can’t breathe.  Let those blue eyes beg enough and maybe I’ll let you.”

The tone, threatening enough that normally Grimmjow would be raring to strike out at anyone who dared to talk to him that way, was clearly pressing different buttons.  His eyes fluttered closed and his tongue lolled out beneath Kisuke’s cock, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth.

Ichigo watched the scene unfold, Zan howling in the dark corners of his mind as he watched the two men, deadly and beautiful, and all he could hear was the drumbeat of mine, mine, mine, drowning out every other thought.

Grimmjow had worn regular human clothes for the tournament and the tight black trousers clearly showed the outline of his hard-on, huge and heavy, pressing against his zipper. Ichigo sucked a breath in through his mouth, the musk of Kisuke’s arousal and the heady scent of Grimmjow going straight to his head, and he knew had to see it, to touch it, to taste it.

“Shift your leg, Grimm,” he said, trying to pull the fabric down and out of the way without tangling Grimmjow’s legs up painfully.  Finally he managed, and his mouth literally watered when he got his first glimpse of the Arrancar’s cock.  A hot spurt of pre-come squirted out of his own, and he pressed a hand into it to try to minimize the wave of sensations that swamped him.

“Like what you’ve uncovered, Ichigo-kun?” Kisuke managed to sound mostly unmoved, but Ichigo could hear the hint of breathiness that was the first sign of his loss of control.  He and Grimm may have been the ones dosed, but none of them were getting out of this unscathed. “He has an impressive cock, doesn’t he?  I can’t wait to see it disappearing into your slick, stretched hole.  Zangetsu-san will hate that, watching you allow another hollow to ride you, to fuck you…”

He swallowed the last word on a strangled groan as Grimmjow took him deep into his throat, and Ichigo could just imagine what that tight ring of muscle felt like, wrapped so tightly around him that it stroked him with every millimeter he moved.

The redhead couldn’t wait anymore.  He stood and shucked his clothing, not caring where it landed, and he wrapped his hand around his own length, pumping it in counterpoint to Grimmjow’s movements. The blond watched him, eyes hooded, and Ichigo could see the wheels within wheels moving in his head.

“You should take care of our guest,” the words were mild, but they triggered a wave of hunger that consumed him, the idea of touching Grimmjow’s muscular ass suddenly becoming the most important thing ever.

“Fuck, Kisuke,” he said, breath stuttering on the upstroke, “yes. Yes.”

He stumbled over Grimmjow’s legs where he was kneeling on the futon and grabbed the pot of slick from the bedside table, somehow managing to open it without spilling it everywhere.

Grimmjow was working up and down Kisuke’s cock like it was the only thing in the world, his chin dripping with saliva and pre-come, until Ichigo’s weight fell against him. He pulled off with a wet pop and glared.

“Watch it, Ichigo,” he said, hoarse from the fucking Kisuke’d given his throat, and Ichigo felt a shudder ripple through him both at the sound of Grimm’s broken voice and the sound of his name being said with it.

“I am watching it,” he said, hiding behind a little of his standard bravado, “and if I can say so, it’s well worth watching.”

He ogled Grimmjow’s ass and waggled his eyebrows until both the big Arrancar and Kisuke let out rough laughs.

“Watching isn’t going to cut it tonight,” Grimmjow arched his back a little and spread his knees, balls hanging heavy between his thighs and Ichigo just wanted…  everything.

“Want to fuck you, Grimm,” he said as he ran a sword-calloused finger down the graceful line of the other man’s spine, “Zan’s going a little crazy about it, but this…  this is what I want.” He dipped three fingers in the pot of slick and let the other man see them for a moment, and then, before he could react, Kisuke grabbed him by the sides of his head and thrust his cock between his gasp-opened lips.

Fuck, Kisuke. Zangetsu was as turned on by the blond’s move as Ichigo was, So hot.  Fuck his face.  Choke him on your cock.  

Ichigo pressed the tip of one finger against Grimmjow’s entrance, the muscle there tight and hot, and all three of them groaned from the domino effect of the sensation.  A second finger quickly followed the first, and then a third, the knowledge that Grimmjow was probably the most durable person he could ever fuck soothing whatever pangs of conscience he might have about proper prep.

Kisuke watched his progress closely, eyes glittering as he relentlessly slid his rigid prick between Grimmjow’s lips, pressing so deeply that it brought tears to the Arrancar’s eyes, and then backing off just enough for him to catch his breath before starting the cycle over again, timing every thrust to coincide with Ichigo’s fingers. The harder Kisuke pressed him, though, the hungrier he seemed, opening wider, swallowing harder, hips rocking back against Ichigo’s fingers as he strained for more, every bit as wild and driven he’d ever been in battle, and the redhead wondered if just that would be enough to get him off.

Then, Kisuke changed the game.

“As lovely as this has been, Grimmjow, I have to admit, I’m a little disappointed.” He pulled his cock out of Grimmjow’s mouth, but didn’t move far, his cock still ruby red and glistening mere finger’s-widths away. Ichigo watched, fascinated, as he gripped his own length and pumped it slowly, teasing the other man. “You’ve always talked such a good game I thought you’d be a sexual force to be reckoned with, but you’re just a little too…  passive for me.”

He smiled at Ichigo over the blue head. “Maybe I’ll just watch you try to top from the bottom with Ichigo-kun.”

Grimmjow erupted into motion, his lethal body moving faster than he had all night, leaving Ichigo wide-eyed and slick-fingered on the side-lines as he swept Kisuke into a hold that had to knock the air out of him.

“Can’t come up with a better insult than topping from the bottom, Shinigami?” He grabbed Kisuke’s legs and dropped him onto his back with a growl, pinning him there with his full body weight as he slotted his hips between Kisuke’s legs and lodged his cock between Kisuke’s ass cheeks. “I know what you’re doing, pushing me, pissing me off.  You and your fucking experiments.  You want to see what happens when you piss me off enough that I lose control? I’ll tell you. I’m going to fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in Hueco Mundo, so hard your crimson bitch won’t be able to sit down. And then? Then, I’m going to fuck Ichigo until he can’t remember his fucking name, and make you watch while my come leaks out of your ass and you can barely crawl across the futon to beg for more.”

Slick fingers pressed into Kisuke’s hole and the blond squirmed and gasped, but his cock was still jutting up, hard and demanding, and Ichigo knew he was enjoying it.

Grimmjow looked over at him and grinned triumphantly, a wild, beautiful thing, and Ichigo leaned in and caught his mouth in a filthy kiss that tasted of lust and violence and Kisuke’s cock.  He licked into Grimm’s mouth again and again, eating at the heat there, listening to Kisuke groan and hiss and sigh under the demanding fingers that were stretching him wide for fucking, and knew he’d never again be able to see Grimmjow’s battle grin without getting hard.

Zangetsu was vibrating at the edge of his inner world, cursing Grimmjow and Kisuke by turns, and Ichigo swatted him away, because these two were his, and Zan could just go fuck himself and the horse he identified as.

He leaned over Grimmjow’s shoulder and looked at his cock, ruddy and huge, dripping pre-come, and breathed into his ear. “Go on. Fuck him, Grimm. He’s a fucking slut for it.  He’ll love it.  Love the stretch and burn as you pound into him.  Love it when you hit that spot that makes his cock leak and his eyes roll back in his head.”

Grimmjow growled and pressed against the ring of muscle that was the last barrier between him and Kisuke’s heat. Then, with one rapid rock of his hips he breached his ass, dragging a low groan from the Shinigami beneath him.

“Fuck yes,” Kisuke hissed the words and rolled into the thrust, silently demanding more.  Grimmjow was more than willing to provide.

“Isn’t he perfect?” Ichigo asked, hot breath stirring the fine blue hair around Grimm’s ear. “He’s made for fucking.  Tight ass. Hard cock.   Smart enough to know exactly what to do to make you see stars.  Wait until you feel him in your ass. You’ll want him again and again.”

Kisuke let out a little moan as Grimmjow bottomed out forcefully and he flexed his muscles around the Arrancar’s length.

“Fuck,” Grimm gutted the word out. “You’re so fucking tight.  It’s like fucking a velvet vise.”

Kisuke let out a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh and Ichigo couldn’t help but feel a pulse of envy.

“Lean forward, Grimm.  Hold him down.” He wrapped himself over Grimmjow’s broad back and held on as he bucked into Kisuke, and Ichigo found his hole with questing fingers again.  He was still loose from earlier but Ichigo took his time, curling his fingers and sliding them along the rim before twisting so that he could find that spot, that incredible little spot that would make even Grimmjow whimper and whine.

He angled himself to capture Grimmjow’s lips in another kiss, this one sloppy and breathless, distracted by the pistoning of Grimm’s hips as he fucked Kisuke so hard Ichigo was almost afraid for his gigai, but Ichigo had pounded Kisuke’s ass often enough to know that a day or two of rest was all the blond needed before he was back in form, turning the tables and driving him to the edge and over.

“Want to see you fuck him, Ichigo-kun,” Kisuke’s voice broke on the words, desire so thick he could hardly speak around it.  “Want to see his face.  Want to hear you both.” He reached out with a scrabbling hand and Ichigo grabbed it and squeezed.

“Grimm?” Ichigo asked, unwilling to force the Arrancar into something he didn’t want, but apparently it wasn’t a problem.

“You heard him. You need an engraved invitation?” was all he said, but the answer rattled through Ichigo and he groaned, dragging clawed fingers down Grimmjow’s flank, digging into the dimples above his hipbones as he settled his weight behind the bigger man.

The heat pouring off Grimmjow was amazing, and Ichigo rubbed his face against the plane of his back, nipping along the bumps of vertebra, his knees splayed obscenely to either side of the well-muscled ass.  Grimmjow leaned farther forward and dropped down to catch Kisuke’s lips in a kiss, something Ichigo had never thought to see, stilling the motion of his own hips to allow Ichigo to maneuver into place, his cock pressed against the puffy red furl of his opening, slick and soft and worked loose until it practically sucked him in.

“Fuck.”  He breathed the word against Grimmjow’s skin and felt rather than hear a rumble in response.

“What are you waiting for, Kurosaki?” A dry, raspy need threaded through Grimmjow’s voice that hadn’t been there before and it made something predatory in Ichigo sit up and take notice. “Just put it in me, you son of a bitch. Fuck me with that cock.  I know you want it.  Show your boyfriend here what fucking a hollow is really like.  Let the hunger out.  I won’t break.”

Ichigo couldn’t pass up an offer like that. He snaked a hand down beneath them to where Grimm’s balls were tight against him and rolled them once, twice, gently and then buried himself deep in his ass in one thrust.

Grimmjow roared and Ichigo howled along with him.

Sweet heat exploded around his cock, and he could feel the shock waves as he lost control of his reiatsu, the waves of it pounding against the others. He rocked forward and down, forcing Grimmjow deeper into Kisuke, and the moans that broke from them both only fed the flames of his hunger. He loved that sound, loved that he was the one wringing it from them, and wanted to hear it again and again, until they were too hoarse to speak.

“Look at us, Kisuke,” he reached around Grimmjow and grasped the blond’s cock, the drooling, dripping length of it hot in his hand, “this is what you said you wanted so open those pretty eyes and watch carefully.  I’m going to fuck him now.  Fuck him and let him take you apart until you’re nothing but a quivering, come-soaked mess.”

He couldn’t have stopped now if someone had held a sword to his throat.   He started with a quick motion, rocking deeper and deeper into Grimmjow until he was working at a constant pace, shifting after every third or fourth stroke to aim for his prostate, pulling moans and curses from the Arrancar as he also almost brutally stroked Kisuke’s cock.

“Fuck, Kurosaki. Harder. Harder.” Grimmjow was holding himself up over Kisuke, the muscles in his arms rippling as he panted and bucked, his own cock plunging in and out of Kisuke at a wicked pace spurred on by Ichigo’s fucking and the redhead couldn’t tell if he was begging or threatening him. “I’m almost there.   Fuck.  That’s it.  Come on.  Fuck it out of me. Yes, yes…  right… there! Fuck!”

He jerked as if electrified, his whole body locking up as he poured his come into the blond beneath him, but Ichigo kept moving, slamming his hips against him until he was sure Grimmjow would have bruises on his ass.  He could feel his own orgasm just beyond his reach, and he stroked Kisuke’s cock in time with his own rhythm, determined to bring him off. His thighs trembled and he could feel his balls tighten as he dragged his thumb through the wet slit at the tip of Kisuke’s cock and then he heard it, that sob and gasp that he sometimes heard in his best dreams, and as Kisuke came, so did he.  Pulse after pulse of come striped Grimmjow’s chest and pooled on Kisuke’s belly and Ichigo filled Grimm’s ass as the reiatsu waves of a truly earth-shattering orgasm ripped through all three of them.

Later when consciousness had crept slowly back, they pulled themselves apart like pieces of a come-covered jigsaw puzzle, breathing heavily in the dim bedroom.

“So,” Grimmjow said, scrubbing a hand through his wild blue mane and looking at Ichigo, “I’d say the mad scientist’s experiment was a success.  What about you?”

Ichigo smothered a grin.  “I’d agree. Kisuke?”

The blond rolled over sleepily and settled between them, spooning back into the big Arrancar’s body while wrapping an arm around the redhead.   “Well, first impressions are positive, but you know how it is with these things.  One has to be able to recreate the results of an experiment several times before being certain of anything.”

In the recesses of Ichigo’s inner world, Zangetsu laughed.

[klimp42]

Metroid (NES) Retrospective: A Look Back on a Classic

So with Tumblr deciding that naughty bits are no longer allowed on their site, let's look back at one of the first sexy ladies for huge nerds and degenerates, Samus Aran! Bet you thought I was going to talk about Lara Croft, no we are going back to the oldest of schools, with a lady that most people probably didn’t know was a lady when they first played it in ‘86.

    Alright, now I know it might be weird to talk about a review and retrospective in a game that is not only 30+ years old, but has been made non-canon in the Metroid story with the remake Metroid Zero Mission being a thing, but trust me I have reasons for wanting to review this. The first reason is that a friend of mine gave me a NES Classic as a Christmas gift, second I am a huge fan of Metroid and have always wanted to play the original, and third I thought up that opening line and thought it would be funny, I know its okay at best, but shut up. So for this little retro review, I am going to break this down into three categories, story, gameplay and legacy.

    When it comes to the story of Metroid, it has the same level of complexity to the story as any other NES game from the time, if you just play the game and don’t bother to look into the booklet, its a game about a person going around shooting things and doing flips and then they fight a thing in a jar and escape from a timed bomb. Yet, like a lot of games from the time, the way to get the story was to read, as there simply wasn’t enough space on the cartridges to have a bunch of text and images next to a game of this magnitude at this stage of the consoles life (I say that because games like Castlevania III eventually did just this only 3 years later). So lets break down this galactic tale of a bounty hunter fighting life-sucking aliens and a supercomputer that controls them.

In the far-flung year of 2000, all of the planets came together to make the Galactic Federation, and things were good till a bunch of dick aliens decided to be Pirates of The Carribean in Space and just cause all kinds of space problems. The space 5-0 were super bad at there job so the Galactic Federation created Space Hunters, who were way better at stopping Space Johnny Depp. So while all of these things are happening the space cops find a small egg of an unknown life form on the planet SR388 (which is actually super important and is the location of the 2nd game), and it is believed for no reason other than plot that this small egg probably is the reason the civilization on SR388 was destroyed. So the spacops and the galactic boys decide that this should be brought in for studies, but Captain Hook in space decide it would be pretty dope to have something that might have destroyed a whole civilization, so they can have a biological weapon to rip apart the galaxy, yeah jokey names aside the space pirates are actually really evil for the sake of being evil. So the spirates run off to their main hideout on the planet Zebes and the Galactic Federations men can’t get in so they call on their better fighters, the space hunters, well specifically Samus Aran, a cyborg who strikes fear in the space pirates and is a “man” with a mystery, that mystery being that he has no wangus and is a woman.

Well the only thing left for the story is what I already said, Samus enters the planet Zebes and has to go kick the brainy ass of Mother Brain and destroy any Metroids she finds, what was inside the small egg thing found on planet SR388, that have been awakened and multiplied by the pirates in space. So let's move onto the gameplay of Metroid, which is simple when you look at just the base controls. You can run, jump, and shoot a short distance at enemies with the ability to eventually be able to swap with the select button between rockets and normal energy shots. Yet this game led to the creation of an all-new gameplay style of side-scrolling and backtracking over huge areas, which sounds like a whatever concept, but it is honestly really fun...for some reason, that genre being Metroidvania, the vania coming from the Castlevania franchise. I am simplifying it, honestly, you have tight controls and upgrades to your arsenal as you play, things like the Varia suit to lower the amount of damage that you take, long shot and Ice beam to shoot your shots farther and freeze enemies in place. You also have upgrades that change gameplay like the morph ball (or the Maur Mari as its called in this for some reason) which morphs you into a ball that can get into small places and the ability to drop bombs in that ball form, the high jump that makes you do just that, and the screw attack that is used to say I would like to not shoot things that aren't bosses or Metroids anymore. Seriously the screw attack, like it is in most Metroid games, is just so good, just jump and kill everything.

Alright, so controls is one bit but what about the actual game, so it is interesting, especially being in a unique location like planet Zebes, the music is a bop, just a straight heater of a soundtrack, and the fun of hidden blocks and rooms that let you get the feeling that you are exploring through a labyrinthian planet. However, problems do show up really quickly, first thing being when you start a game you only have 30 health, alright that's tough but okay the first area's enemies in the corridor before Brinstar don’t hit to hard so it isn’t too bad. But then you find you first Energy tank which fully heals you and adds a pip to your health, so now instead of a cap of 99 health, you have 198 health, sick!. So you keep playing, maybe you go to far and hit were Ridley is, one of the bosses and poster boys for the franchise, shit you died, so you’re sent back to the start of Ridley’s area and what’s this? Your health is back at 30, which sucks but also you need to now hit a cap of 198 instead of 99! Though this becomes less of an issue as you get more E tanks, but man does it suck in the beginning to just be like oh cool this sucks. Like I get it, this is NES hard, enemies are bullshit on purpose to hide the fact that you can beat this game in less than an hour if you know what you are doing. Speaking of enemies, damn do they look super cool or super dumb, with the top of the spectrum being the Metroids themselves or Mother Brain, and the bottom being the weird ball things in Ridley’s place, Ridley himself, or those damn Cheerios ( just google Metroid cheerios if you don’t know what I’m talking about). The enemies in this game range from slowly moving annoyance to this homing at me bullshit is getting on my last nerve, so expect to take alot of hits from both of them.

Traversing around the game is alot of fun and it feels greet, but there is a little bit of a problem if you want to play this game now, see in the 80’s you had this like outline of where you where going, an idea of what to expect in the next area, cool right? Well that was in the booklet you got when you bought the game, no such thing in the NES classic or on the Switch’s NES collection. So unless you have a damn good memory you are probably going to want to pull up a map that you can use for your first time, or you might get lost, or maybe you are way better at the whole keeping track of yourself then I am and you don’t need a map.

Now, what is a game without boss fights right? So let's talk about some of, and by some I mean the three total boss fights in the game. For this let's go in order of easiest to hardest to get to, in my opinion, so Kraid, Ridley and then Mother Brain. So Kraid in this game is way smaller than he is from every other time he has, or I guess, will show up in Metroid titles, he is about the size of Samus and also from some reason there is a second one of him in his lair. His attack is what it is for all of his games, he shoots spikes from his chest and throws energy talon things, you just have to hit him to damage him, but it's difficult because he has the whole chest spike things blocking your shoots so you have to let him shoot and then land some hits. Ridley is only like his future self because he can shoot fire out of his mouth, but that's it and sometimes he will only shoot in a huge arc so you just close the distance and this boy is easy as hell to put down. The final boss of the game is Mother Brain and good god is she hard to just take down, one getting to her is the world’s biggest chore, and there is so many cheerios hitting you that trying to shoot missiles into that small window to attack her just sucks, and to get to her you have yo take down this glass tubes that regain health as you dont damage them, so you either get through really quickly, or it takes a thousand years. Also make sure you don’t in the last fight because it is back to the start of Tourian with 30 health, yay. Listen, the game has some hard fights when it comes to the bosses, except for Ridley, but it is still enjoyable to beat them and if you take the time to learn the fights it is actually really easy to exploit them, like Ridley.

Okay, so you beat Mother Brain and the only thing left to do is run to the surface of Zebes to escape it before it explodes, you do it and if you beat the game in less than 5 hours, you get to see the biggest twist in gaming, Samus is a girl! And if you beat the game in less than 3 hours you get to see her in her famous Zero Suit, and if you do it in less than an hour you get to see her in Bikini, a reward for only the most experienced gamer boys and girls! This game is rough, it's clear to see where the love of the game came from, it was unique for the time and it shows, the Metroid franchise has grown and improved with each entry, except for Other M, and was one of the reasons that the Metroidvania genre even exists.

So would I recommend playing this game? If you like classic NES games then yeah I would recommend it and if you have a Switch and just want to play the ending of the game there is a special version that starts you with all upgrades at the fight with Ridley. Also if you are a fan who has never played this game before, I would say that you should give the grandfather of the franchise a try. Now if you don’t really like old NES games or you just want to see the story of the first game, I would recommend just playing Metroid Zero Mission, it’s a complete remake of the first game with better controls and it's much easier, and if you enjoy it you could go from there to the original Metroid, or just play the franchise from there!

[atmilliways]

Stuck on the Outside Failing to Look In (Just Like in Real Life)

This @mtl-trick-or-treat fic is for @tanyonlee, who asked for either a treat of “Very cute Skwistok!!” or a trick of “Skwisgaar and his gmiltf girlfriend XDDD.” 

It was while writing this bit that I realized, hey, I’m writing this for a Halloween event, maybe it should have some actual Halloween in it. Thank you to @little-murmaider for the costume suggestion. All the other suggestions were close seconds, you are all superstars. 🎃 

Here’s part three! (1562 words)

(part 1) (part 2)

~

Halloween day dawned cold and crisp over Mordhaus — but the five members of Dethklok all slept through that part. It wasn’t until a much more reasonable eleven am that three hunched figures sat around the sawblade kitchen table, piled high with breakfast pastries, clutching steaming cups of black, black coffee in their hands.

“Fuck, okay,” Nathan rumbled after a few mouthfuls of blessed caffeine. “I call this what-the-fuck-do-we-do-about-our-guitarists meeting to order.”

“Uh, exchusche me, I’m a guitarischt?”

Pickles rolled his eyes. “Yeah, bass guitarist. That’s barely an instrument.”

Murderface glared at the drummer, but chose not to dignify it with a response. Not an audible response, anyway — he may or may not have mumbled something containing the word Thunderbottom into his coffee.

“Stop bitching and pay attention,” snapped Nathan, who was absolutely not a morning person. “Look. Toki keeps going off and costing us money in damages and lawsuits, and Skwisgaar’s being even more of a moody asshole than usual. We’ve gotta do something about it.”

There was a drowsy silence while the three men tried to think while still in the process of waking up.

“Does anyone else get the feelin’ that they’re, like... eggin’ each other on or someshit?” Pickles asked finally.

“Let’sch juscht put ‘em in a room together and lock the door,” Murderface grumbled, still smarting from the jab at his instrument.

“That’s...” Nathan paused, mulling the suggestion over for a minute. “... Not the shittiest idea I’ve ever heard. Good job, Murderface.”

The bassist replied by flipping him off with his still-bandaged band, his other busy grabbing for a powdered donut.

“What if they kill each other?” Pickles asked.

“We’ll stay nearby,” Nathan said firmly. “I’m pretty sure if any of us get seriously hurt, that... thing would happen again.”

They all shifted a little uncertainty at that — except for Murderface, who inhaled at the wrong moment and started coughing and hacking on powdered sugar, which diffused the feeling somewhat. Because sure, That Thing had been brutal and badass and a rush, but the idea of it was still unsettling. It was the kind of experience that you half hoped, half worried would happen again someday.

Nathan reached over and gave Murderface a helpful couple of thumps on the back, which helpfully knocked over his coffee into the bassist’s crotch.

~

SEVERAL HOURS LATER.

A klokateer had just finished bringing three fresh drinks to the hot tub when Pickles suddenly sat up from his relaxed slouch and asked, “Wait, don’t we gotta figure out how to get both’a them in the same room in the first place?”

“Uh.” Nathan’s brow furrowed. “Yeah... I guess we do.” He took a long pull from his beer. “So, uh... if anyone has any ideas, that’d be great.”

“Schuper leaderschip right there,” Murderface deadpanned.

“Shut up! I had the idea to come up with an idea, I’m fucking worn out.”

“It is Halloween,” Pickles said slowly, ignoring the bickering with the ease many years’ practice and more substances than just alcohol in his system. “Meybe we could tell Toki some story about trick or treatin’?”

“But what about Schkwischgaar? He doeschn’t even want to go out for schweet poontang anymore now that he’sch deschided to schack up with that fat grandma.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Nathan grunted. “Skwisgaar doesn’t even know the word monog... mogon... m... hrnnnnn... He doesn’t know what settling down even means.”

Pickles shrugged. “Feck If I know. Meybe we can grab ‘em while he’s still sleepin’, throw him in wherever, boom, lock the door, done.”

“But that only worksch if he’sch aschleep... What if we juscht tell him the fat grandma isch waiting for him schomewhere, and when he goesch in that’sch when we lock the door.” Murderface sipped thoughtfully on his Bloody Mary, then made a face. “Ugh, thisch thing isch dischguschting!”

“Dood, then why’d you ask for one? Give it here, I’ll drink it.”

“No, it’sch mine,” Murderface whined, holding the glass as far away from Pickles as he could and thus giving Nathan a good look at the cocktail onions decorated to look like eyeballs and a set of plastic vampire fangs floating in the thick cocktail. “It’sch feschtive!”

“What’s you guys all doin’s up so earlies? Trick or treats hasn’t even starts yet!”

The three men in the hot tub turned in unison to look at Toki. Somehow he’d managed to sneak up on them despite his costume, which requires a moment of blank staring to fully take in — from the ridiculous umbrella hat on his head to the ludicrous arrangement of base drum, cymbals, and various horns slung on his back like a backpack, completed by an array of mouthpieces clustered around his face like an addition to his already weird facial hair and his Flying V strapped to his front.

Plus, there were coins dangling from the umbrella, clinking against each other every time he moved. Nathan and Pickles exchanged one of those what just happened here and could it have anything to do with…? looks, because he shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on them with all those noisemakers on. They weren’t that drunk yet.

“What the fuck?” Nathan asked finally, speaking for everyone as per his job description.

Toki grinned proudly. “I ams a one man band!” He punctuated the statement with a cymbal crash, operated by some sort of hand lever. “Where’s Skwisgaar? I bets he ams too lazies to even does a costumes...”

“He’s prahbly still sleepin or something. What’s... with all the coins, dood?” Pickles asked.

The flicker of disappointment in Toki’s eyes was so brief that his band mates didn’t even notice, quickly replaced by exaggerated childlike glee. “They ams my tips what’s I get for playing goods!”

“That’s, uh...” Nathan glanced around, searching his brain or possibly the room for something to say that wasn’t too jackassy but not an outright lie either. It was hard to tell sometimes what might set off one of the rhythm guitarist’s violent tantrums, and Toki’s bubbly mood could just be the manic before the storm. “...Uh... sugar-free?”

Murderface, still staring, spoke up in lukewarm agreement. “Healthier than playing for candy, that’sch for schure.”

“You got your insulin, right?” Pickles asked reflexively.

Toki nodded and beamed and played a riff on his guitar, accompanying it with various clashes, bashes, and honks.

In the midst of the cacophony, Pickles turned to the other two and said in a low voice, “This is a tickin’ time bomb. You guys wanna get this over with now?”

“...Yeah.”

“Schoundsch good. I’ve got my tascher in with my clothesch over there.”

“Okey.” Pickles leaned back and raised his voice again. “Hey, that’s real good, Toki! You wanna start trick or treatin’ early this year?”

Toki stopped the assault on their ears and clapped his hands together in excitement. “Oh boys, does I!” He paused. “But… it doesn’ts starts until suns-set, I thoughts?”

Murderface, ever a champion of messing with people, literally leapt up in his eagerness to cover this plot hole in their story. “Nope! I know a neighborhood that schtartsch early, scho letsch get thisch schow on the road!”

As one, everyone in the room groaned and shielded his eyes in dismay.

“Goddammit Murderface,” Nathan bellowed, “stop freeballing in the hot tub!”

~

ABOUT HALF AN HOUR LATER.

Nathan pulled his dethphone out of his back pocket. “Okay, I’m going to text Skwisgaar now. Everybody ready?”

Pickles nudged at Toki with a sneakered foot to make sure he was still down for the count, getting the hoped-for lack of response. He nodded and flashed a double thumbs up.

From his position by the door, Murderface held up his taser in wordless salute.

They’d decided that the one man band getup presented too many improvised weapon possibilities, so they’d tasered him into unconsciousness, removed everything but his clothes, and made a couple klokateers carry him down to the studio. To make the whole thing more fair, they’d also decided to do more or less the same to Skwisgaar as soon as he stormed in.

“... Wait, how come I gotta do all the taschering? My hand schtill hurtsch, schomeone elsche do it thisch time.”

“This isn’t the time for whining, Murderface,” Nathan called as he and Pickles hid behind the couch, just in case. “This is your time to shine!”

~

Text log between Skwisgaar Skwigelf and Nathan Explosion:

NE (5:29:27pm) — Hey, come to the studio.

NE (5:41:02pm) — GET YOUR ASS DOWN TO THE STUDIO RIGHT NOW.

NE (5:43:26pm) — Some of your pickups in the new track need some work.

SS (5:43:56pm) — WHAT

SS (5:43:57pm) — BOLLSHIT

SS (5:43:59pm) — THEMS WAS PERFECTION

NE (5:45:37pm) — Prove it. Just get in here.

SS (5:45:44pm) — THIS AMS SLANDER ON MY NAMES I WILLS PROVE IT ALL OVER YOURS DUM BITCHTITS

~

ONE AMBUSH LATER.

Pickles was helping Nathan drag an unconscious Skwisgaar into the booth with the equally unconscious Toki, when the drummer suddenly dropped the pair of booted ankles he’d been lugging and asked, “Wait, don’t I have some sorta dentist appointment to go to later today?” 

He glared at his band mates. 

“How come neither’a you dooshbeags reminded me? Now I don’t got time to pour bleach on my teeth first!”