#that production man we all bitched in the bathroom about it and we generally were a tight cast bc of it

[vogelmeister]

will never forget when my ex director screamed at me for not moving downstage to become the river and i went “you told me i was the fisherman” and he then proceeded like nothing happened.

[transmutationisms]

coke capitalism in 3x06 “what it takes”

in the evening, after the candidates’ dinner, logan calls the establishment candidate dave boyer, inviting him to meet and asking if he’ll “run [him] over a coke.” on a superficial level, this is a simple fuck-you: assigning a bitch-boy task to the man who needs logan’s support in order to become the next president. however, the choice of coke specifically is highly significant to the episode’s political commentary.

coca-cola’s brand image is deeply linked to the american empire (’cocacolonization��) and a rosy, propagandised image of capitalism in general. when logan asks boyer for a coke, we can read this as symbolic of the relationship he wants waystar and potus to have. the president should run errands for logan roy, specifically in a way that subordinates the political office and the state to waystar’s economic needs and the economy in general. 

this is an inversion of older forms of capitalism, like 18th-century court capitalism, wherein corporations were allowed to exist and granted economic privileges only insofar as they served the interests of the state / sovereign. waystar has some value to the american empire, insofar as it exports soft power globally and manufactures consent domestically. but the balance of the relationship between logan and potus clearly tilts in logan’s favour multiple times throughout the show, and demanding the coke is essentially logan telling boyer he expects this arrangement to continue, literally asking the president to bring him american capitalism for his own consumption.

meanwhile, roman meets with mencken in logan’s bathroom (the gold accents in the bathroom, in combination with the coca-cola, also evoke a certain trumpian quality in logan). while mencken denies being a “dancing monkey,” roman understands that atn’s goal is to peddle whatever sells—in this case, fascism, which is particularly well-suited to spectacle and therefore to tv. 

thus, when mencken brings logan a coke after all, he’s conveying two messages. one, that he’s willing to ‘play nice’ with logan. two, that his brand of fascist spectacle will actually do a better job than establishment republicanism of encoding american politics as flows of pure capital. analogously to the eminently consumable soda, this arrangement will melt down all political meaning and transform it into brute monetary value that waystar can use.

by kissing the coke, however, mencken makes it impossible for logan to actually drink it: it’s now been tainted, both by literal germs and by homoeroticism. this is where roman’s role is critical. unlike logan, roman is openly aroused by fascist masculinity, hence his literal flirting with fascism in the bathroom. roman is able to consume the coke, taking a political-economic waste product into his body and ‘consummating’ the deal logan has just made. roman’s body thus serves as both a waste receptacle and a symbolic representation of how american capitalism ‘gets into bed’ with fascism.

on a meta level, the choice of coke is also quite funny because we can presume that coca-cola paid for that product placement, or at least permitted it. despite the fact that the scene and the show have plenty of unflattering things to say about capitalism and fascism, the value of product placement on a popular tv show will always trump any critique being made within the show itself. capitalism is capable of absorbing any criticism of itself simply by selling it: in this case, ‘tv show’ is both an art form and a commodity, and no radical critique internal to the text is capable of altering the underlying economic relation.

[arc-misadventures]

Hunter Drones: How would Jaune's lets say robotic team introduce themselves to Jaune's parents?

Hunter Drones IX

Jaune: Ughhhh…

OAI: I take it your conversation with, General Ironwood was productive?

Jaune: ‘Why are they so psychotic?!’ That’s what he asked when he saw the remains of the White Fang members who snuck in here… He was utterly appalled by the way the hallway was splattered in their remains… If he really, really wanted to be appalled by what they did, he should have seen their eye camera footage… Gods, I’m not going to be getting a good nights sleep tonight… Haaa

OAI: At least the combat data we have acquired from their engagement with the, White Fang will be invaluable.

Jaune: Yes, and no; that fight was highly one sided, in their favour. The White Famg are comparable to an armed civilians militia most of the time. The Hunter Drones will have to fight some experienced, Hunters to gain real data at their combat capabilities against human/faunas opponents. At most, the data shows us how fast, and quick they are to react to incoming foes. But, that’s it. Haa… More tests need to be run…

OAI: Very well, what test shall I…?! INTRUDER DETECTED! Preparing counter measures.

Jaune: Wait, what?! Who the hell got into my lab?! There is no way anyone can…?!

Juniper: Jauney~!

Jaune: Oh… That’s who… OAI, deacti…?! GRK?!

Juniper: Oh, how I’ve missed you my little mad scientist! You look tired, have you been getting enough sleep? Eating well? How goes things with that, Schnee~?

Jaune: Oww… There was an incident last night so I didn’t get much sleep. Yes, I’ve been eating well. I refuse to talk about that to anyone much less you.

Juniper: Rude.

Jaune: And, lastly; How the hell did you get in here?!

Juniper: Language, little one.

Jaune: Just answer the question!

Juniper: Haa… very well; I hacked into the Atlas Military computers mainframe, imputed the necessary biometric data into their database, and gave myself command access to all facilities, outposts, weapon depots, officer bathrooms… anything I could really. I am curious why an alarm sounded when I entered this room, it shouldn’t have done that?

Jaune: …

Jaune: OAI…?!

OAI: Confirmed: A one, Juniper Vintiz Auburn Arc, has been imputed into the data archive as of yesterday, with high level command codes.

Jaune: Then, why did you activate the security measures if she’s in the system.

OAI: She does not have proper clearance form the General, and yourself to enter the premises.

Jaune: …

Jaune: C-Couldn’t you have just called…?

Juniper: But, I wanted to see what you were up to; you never tell me whenever we call.

Jaune: Mom, I work in a secret lab, on secret military projects! Key word, secret! I’m not suppose to tell anyone what I’m working on, much less my mother!

Juniper: What, do you think I would tell the whole family you created an artificial intelligence around the dinner table, or something?

Jaune: …

Juniper: Okay, I’ve only done that once!

Jaune: …

Juniper: This year…

Jaune: This far…

Juniper: Hey!

Jaune: Okay… Lets start of with the introductions… OAI, my I present, Juniper, Arc, my mother. Mom, may I present, OAI, The Original Artificial Intelligence.

OAI: Hello, Mrs. Arc, it is a pleas to meet my creators, creator.

Juniper: Oh… Oh my… You created an AI…? My Little Mad Scientist created an, AI! A true AI, and not whatever those little droids, Atlas loves to parade around are. Oh, I’m so proud of you! How strong of a processor do you have? What’s your computing power?

Yang: Who the hell are you?

Juniper: Hmm~?

Blake: Yang, why are you…?! Get your hands off of, Master! NOW!!!

Ruby: What?! How did she get in here?!

Penny: Meat detected: Preparing to engage.

Jaune: Wait, hold on girls…?!

Yang: Don’t worry, Jaune; We’ll keep this floozy away from you!

Juniper: What did you just call me…?

Blake: You heard her, bitch!

Ruby: Get away from our man, or else!

Penny: Do we have to talk with her; can’t we just kill her?

Jaune: G-Guys! D-Don’t start…?!

Juniper: Shh shh shh… Quiet now, Jauney… It appears I need to teach these ladies a lesson in etiquette. Particularly, respect to their elders…

Jaune: W-W-Wait! Don’t…?! Oh gods no! Uhh…?!!OAI?! OAI a little help here?!

OAI: I have already started recording the battle for future data analysis.

Jaune: Why?!

OAI: You said we need the Hunter Drones to fight against, seasoned Hunters, considering your mothers record, I see no one else more than qualified to help evaluate their combat efficiency.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Haa… Fine! Get everything you can get! In the meantime, contact the General and let him know of our guest. And, acti…?! Ahh!!!

OAI: Hardlight shields activated.

Jaune: Ughh… No! Not again! This is the third time this week someone messed up my lab?! And, its only, Monday?! WHYYYYY?!!

[kaijurakunsobs]

You will feel joy, one day

master list for this series

sorry for the wait y'all, I had to torture myself into listening to the same song to get the inspo I needed for this next chapter which is READYMADE - Ado (it has English subtitles btw)

Hope you guys enjoy this!

Summary: It's been clear from the start that you won't go down without putting up a fight, the tone in your voice and stand are nothing but infuriating for Heisenberg, just like his mere presence fills you with annoyance. The factory is enormous and whatever he's doing here could get you killed, but even in this kingdom of oil and rusted metal, there's a bit of kindness.

Right now, you would accept the title of naive, because you were when you thought this man would share his secrets with you, instead...he's giving you a fucking tour of the entire place, wildly pointing and all the doors and doing sharp turns, taking you up and down flights of stairs "I hope you don't get lost, darlin', we don't want you ending in the wrong place, right?" there's mockery in his voice as he speaks over his shoulder, halting to a stop and making you trip and crash against him.

"This is the boiler room, you might want to familiarize yourself with this place in particular" a snarky smile appearing on his lips

Peeking inside makes you go pale and sigh in frustration, it's a mess, you can see cables, crudely fixed with tape, more flammable materials, and so many oil spills on the ground, "I can also familiarize with the rest of the fabric because this dump could explode any day"

His smile falls and that expression of annoyance, that just seems to be for you, comes back in no time. Releasing a cloud of smoke he turns around and starts walking faster, slowly regaining his showman's voice and the exuberance of his movements renew with the occasional laugh, is enough to make you tune him out again, looking at whatever you find more interesting, nose scrunching up with whenever there's something that unsettles or makes you question this man's leadership and care for this place. If you do take the role of helping him, you know you're gonna exploited day and night.

He's not blind or stupid, he knows you are doing everything but listening to him, every time he looks over his shoulder to make sure you are following and paying him some god damn attention, he will always see you eyeing everything, dissecting the place, and doing a face that just speaks volumes of how unimpressed you are by his life's work, but it's not like he will tell you about his plans, it's too soon for that, what if you are just a little spy under Miranda's orders?

It rubs him the wrong way how adamant she was on you being under his orders, super-sized bitch didn't raised too much hell, which also puts him on edge, it just doesn't feel normal for him. In any other situation where Miranda has favored him over Dimitrescu, and it wasn't because "mother" gave her that heartfelt speech Karl being all alone on his iron tower, Moreau is the forgotten child of the bunch and has to beg for almost everything, Miranda is already pissed with Donna and her botanical gig, let alone, the way she uses her cadou to just make dolls move.

That left him in the position akin to a middle child, he's just there, occasionally remembered and rarely to give him treats or surprises. He's used to scavenging for materials, do the occasional grave robbing or take the corpses the other Lords leave behind.

So, why did she left you with him?

"Lastly but no less important! the living quarters"

You have been so lost in thought, you didn't noticed that his "fantastical tour" is over, and you are back to the front of the complex...shit, you didn't even paid attention to where everything is, you're gonna get so lost if you try to navigate this place on your own.

After entering the brute closes the door behind you and goes to the left office, you can hear him mumbling under his breath and things being moved around, you don't know how long he's going to be in there, so you turn your attention to the rest of the room.

From everything you have seen, this place is the cleanest one and it makes you think of the layout in your family's factory. It looks like he repurposed what used to be the waiting area, there's a kitchen in the right corner, a couple of sofas that had seen better days, a lot of blueprints have been left on the coffee table. To the left, it's the main office, a lot bigger and the tinted glass on the door has the name Heisenberg hand-painted on it, classy, you suppose that that's his room? you don't care, opting for getting close to the blueprints, his handwriting is atrocious and there are notes everywhere, how interesting, one of the workers used to say that was a sign of a brilliant mind.

"You are not allowed to go there, a'right?" hearing him so close makes you jump, when did he come back? from the tone of his voice, you might be right, it's either his bedroom "This one, however! this one is just for you" he says oh so sweetly when pointing at the smaller office to the right opening the door rather unceremoniously.

Now you get why the rest of this area is so clean and clutter-free, motherfucker pushed all the trash and old furniture in there, it's dusty and the air, somehow, is stale only in this place, you can see cobwebs "Since I'm being kind enough to let you sleep on this side and not in the cellars, I think is fair that you take care of the mess, don't you think?"

"Can't I just sleep in one of the couches?"

"Of course not, we don't want my precious mechanic to get sick, right?" condescending asshole, he even smiles at you, showing you his teeth in what you identify as an act of intimidation

"Of course we don't want that, my Lord! but, I do must say, you have been ill-mannered, showing me around your domain yet...you haven't told me your name when introductions were supposed to be made long ago" it's your turn to give him teeth flashing smile, his going a bit forced

"Well you see sweetheart, I would have done it earlier, but I came encountered a disrespectful brat that decked me in the face as soon as we met"

"Really now? Perhaps, this brat was done with being manhandled and reacted accordingly to how they felt" the sardonic smile on your face grows and you can see how much it pisses him off, and that shouldn't make you proud.

The man is looking, more like attempting, to look down on you, clicking his tongue loudly and in a dissatisfied manner, with complete derision, he gives you, the closest thing to a respectful bow "My name is Karl Heisenberg and I'm one of the four Lords working under Miranda's orders"

In response, you give him a curtsy and use your best sarcastic tone, just for him "It's such an honor to meet you, my lord. I must say I'm no noble but I do HOPE you may remember the name of this pheasant girl, Y/N, L/N Y/N"

He doesn't appreciate the way you talk to him or how you don't even try to hide how little you respect or fear him, but he needs you alive to accelerate and optimize the factory's production, under other circumstances? he would have thrown you down to let the Sturm have some fun, but he won't, at least for now.

"So, Miss Y/N...let me give you a...welcoming gift" he's harsh when trusting a bundle of crumpled clothes and old boots into your arms, pushing you back hard enough that you almost lose your balance "I don't expect you to always wear my hand-me-downs, this is a momentary arrangement"

"Oh my! so generous of you, to clothe this poor village girl with your own garments, I am so thankful for this, however, if I may ask for a tiny favor...can I know where your bathroom is? I don't what to soil this fine fabric with my dirty body"

You don't like the way he smiles at you, with one hand he grabs your shoulder and with the other he opens the door, pushing you towards what used to be the employee's showers, there's mold and broken mirrors, a lot of the shower heads are gone and the only one that seems to be functioning is leaking.

"Serve yourself, princess, just know this...there's only cold water, the hot water stopped working years ago and I haven't felt like repairing it, I hope you enjoy your shower!"

And with that, he leaves you, finally alone but unnerved on how easily he could come back and just stare at you like a creep. But you need a shower, there's grime and dirt caked to your body and it's starting to get disgusting and itchy. So you swallow your pride and leave the borrowed clothes over the small wall separating the showers from the rest of the place and brace yourself to what might be the worst moment of the day so far.

Later you are cursing him as loud as you can, he didn't lie when he said that only the cold water worked, but you would say it was freezing, his clothes are uncomfortably big on you, and smell of faint sweat and like these were left tucked away for a long time, the boots are the best part, these have been broken in nicely and they fit you...who are you kidding? the damn things are falling apart and you feel like a clown with how big they are.

That has left you with the shining crown of the shit show that's been this whole day! the trash in your new room, you had to box so many useless papers, look everywhere to find one measly broom, and use the remains of the gown you came in with to keep your hair out of your face and as a bandana to cover your nose and mouth.

From all the old furniture in the room, the only useful stuff is the old desk, a sofa that somehow survived without being eating by termites but might be infested with cockroaches, and a lamp. It's not much, but it's something.

All this moving around now has brought a new problem.

You are starving.

You can't remember when Miranda took you, let alone when was your last meal or if you were fed during your time in the cell. But Heisenberg's fridge is empty, there's only a handful of onions and those have roots and sprouts coming out already. There's nothing substantial in the cupboards or anywhere for that matter.

You doubt there might anything to eat in this place, but, you better give it a try, better die trying than going to sleep with a grumbling stomach, right? But, you didn't learn jackshit from him and you can't remember anything from the directions Heisenberg gave you.

Fuck it.

Slowly you creep out of the small apartment and peek outside, looking around assures you that the coast is clear. This could be a great learning experience! no matter how much of a dick this man is, there's something of value in his words and maybe, just maybe, you should pay more attention when he talks...MAYBE.

The place is a labyrinth of stairs, broken walls turned into hallways and sealed doors, you do have half a mind to remember which doors and areas he pointed as "out of bounds" for you, which is a surprise, seeing how massive the place is.

Under the stench of grease and smoke, you notice, the tasty scent of stew...close, very close, your poor stomach twisting painfully and mouth rapidly filling with saliva, you start following the heavenly aroma until you reach an old cargo lift, a large man sits there and for a moment that makes you stop in your tracks.

The man is surrounded by bags and crates filled with stuff from fruits to what you guess are various pieces of machinery and other objects hard to identify in the low light "Aaaaah...a new customer perhaps? You must be Lord Heisenberg's new assistant, are you not?"

He smiles with true kindness and something similar to pity, meaty hands adorned with gold rings beacon you close "Come come, miss...?"

"Uuuuuuuh...I'm Y/N, nice to meet you..."

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance miss Y/N, you may call me The Duke"

There's something infectious in him that makes you relax your shoulders and walk closer to him "So...what do you do here Duke?"

"What? well, I'm nothing but a humble merchant, occasionally I set up shop here in the factory, especially when I have a delivery or things that may spark Lord Heisenberg's interest, and now that you are here, I will make a note to bring stuff you could use too"

"I...I would appreciate the gesture, thanks" the small sincere smile in your face drops when your stomach decides to grumble loud enough to be heard by the Duke, the man laughing at the sound, making your embarrassment worst.

"Would like to accompany me with dinner, dear? I have made plenty and this could be a small...celebratory feast for you"

"Celebratory? no offense, but...there's nothing to celebrate"

"Aren't you alive and able to walk?" he's so careful when serving some stew in a bowl, making sure not to spill a drop "I think that surviving whatever happened to you, is worth celebrating"

The bowl is warm in your hands and the smell is just divine, you take a seat on the floor waiting for the Duke to serve his bowl and then you dig in, sighing in appreciation when the rich taste of the broth fills your mouth, the softness of the meat and the carrots. You can see the Duke smile with pride when you compliment his cooking, enjoying each spoonful to the fullest.

"It's getting quite late Y/N and Lord Heisenberg is one to rise early, I suggest you go to bed or you end up feeling too tired tomorrow"

"Yeah...thanks for the meal Duke, I really appreciate it"

"Don't mention it and remember, the Duke's Emporium is here to satisfy all your shopping needs!"

You bid the man farewell and do the trek back to your room, taking time to memorize the way to the lift and the living quarters, the man might be a merchant but you want to get to know more about him, he seems nice, he's been the nicest one so far.

The living area feels cold and so terribly empty, there's no sign of Heisenberg anywhere, which you are thankful for. Only after entering your room and laying on your "bed", waiting a bit to hear any sound that might belong to the Lord, when only the sounds of the factory echo back to you do you dare to cry.

It starts slowly, your eyes fixated on the ceiling, then the flood gates open and you start to sob and scream, tears running down the side of your face to get lost in your hair leaving wet patches in their wake. But your crying evolves into fear, panic, raged breathing, and asking hands, all the weight of what happened today swallows you whole.

You don't know where to start, the way you growled at Heisenberg in the church, HOW he was able to move heavy metal without touching it? and all those corpses suspended ton hooks...the howls and things banging against the doors, the cruelty in how Heisenberg tossed you around and screamed in your face. How do you even managed to put and kept that brave face on when you were so scared is beyond you, you did it and that's enough.

The rapid and irregular movement of your chest does nothing but make your side hurt, the pain shoots up and down your body, making you curl on your side to alleviate the pressure if only a bit.

You want to die...but not like this, not terrified for your existence, not at the hands of a volatile man that can crush you with his hammer any day.

You want to live, but to live with your life depending on how well you perform your role? that's not a life at all.

Exhaustion and fatigue eventually take you away into a dreamless sleep, your last thought is...what's going to happen tomorrow?

You don't know, but as the Duke said, you survived whatever Miranda did to you and you will survive this too, no matter what, you will live.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Twitter ー Laito Sakamaki [2020 Compilation]

–> This post includes all tweets posted on the official Rejet Twitter account for Laito Sakamaki (@DialoverLaitoS) in 2020.

Shuu l Reiji l Ayato l Kanato l Subaru l Ruki l Kou l Yuma l Azusa l Carla l Shin l Kino

February 14, 2020 (Valentine’s Day)

> Come to think of it, Subaru-kun’s late. He said he’d head out for a short while, but he’s not coming back at all.

> Ah, could it be that he’s hopeful for someting and taking a detour? ‘Please accept my chocolates’, something like that~?

> That’s very much like him.

> Macarons too please~ (@Reiji)

March 14, 2020 (White Day)

> Heeeey, Bitch-chan! Looking cute as ever today!

> You think I’m saying that half-heartedly? Of course not. After all, you are the only girl on this planet who is special to me. I really do feel grateful to be able to meet someone I can share this feeling with.

> How about you? I happen to have these very delicious marshmallows on hand, so let’s eat these together while you tell me.

March 20, 2020 ( Birthday)

> Helloooo~ Bitch-chan~ ❤️ Thank you very much for today. You’ve been extensively preparing this day, wanting to celebrate it together till the very last second, didn’t you? You really are so admirable and cute. Usually it would make me want to tease you, but today I want to see your smile. So please?

April 1, 2020 (April Fools)

> I’d love for you to drop by the bathroom. Let’s enjoy ourselves together here? #AprilFools

May 2, 2020

-> Biiiitch-chan~

> I’m bored so I’ve come keep you company. What are you doing?

> Heeh, I see. Then you have some time for me, right? What should we enjoy ourselves with?

> Nfu~ Let’s go with something we can do at home. I’ll teach you a very ‘exciting’ game~

Juy 7, 2020 (Tanabata)

> I want Bitch-chan to wear a yukata. Of course, I’ll be the one taking off her obi.* ❤️

--> I am pretty sure this is a reference to a famous Japanese gag/joke in which a man will tug harshly onto the obi (the band around a kimono/yukata), making her spin while also undressing her at the same time.

September 18, 2020

> There’s so many hip and cute variants of shaved ice as of late.

> I’ll do some research to go together with Bitch-chan~ 

> So I can see her face scrunch up as she gets brain freeze~

September 29, 2020

> I’ve invited Bitch-chan to the rooftop~

> I have to properly escort her on the back way home from school after all~ ❤️

> Zero sex appeal, huh?

October 20, 2020

> Bitch-chan~ I finally found you. What are you doing here?

> This is Kanato’s creepy room, isn’t it? Let’s ditch this place full of wax dolls and return to the manor together, okay?

> Ah, you came here for the present? But aren’t you just being deceived by Kanato-kun? You’re so pure and naive per usual~ Makes me want to corrupt you.

> If you’re looking for that present, I spotted it over there. You know, the place which holds memories for the two of us. ❤️

> Whenever we enter that room together, we both end up soaking wet. We’ve also played with some looooong objects~ We had such a blast, remember?

> Does that ring any bells? In that case, why not try going to the place you have in mind?

October 28, 2020

> Aah, this spot seems nice. ❤️Okay then, I’ll suck you plenty. Show me your expression as you drown in me more, swallowed by the pleasure?

> How is it? Are you feeling good?

> I see. That’s...kinda dull, you know?

> The faces you make when enjoying it aren’t bad either, but I miss seeing you cry or scrunch up your nose in disgust.

> That’s why I’ll treat you very badly this time. Now show me a real expression of disgust and fight back. It’ll turn me on beyond belief. You can do that, right?

October 31, 2020 (Halloween)

> Heeh? You made macarons for me? Nfu~ Thank you. But I think I’ll savor you first. ❤️ Only macarons won’t be able to satisfy my cravings after all. So come on, hurry up and give it to me?

November 14, 2020

> When it gets cold, you start craving for the touch of someone else’s skin, don’t you think?

> Right, Bitch-chan~? ❤️

December 18, 2020

> Bitch-chaaan~ ❤️ You must be freezing cold, right? I’ll warm you right up, okay? By pressing my body against yours like this...~ Nfu~ I’m only embracing you, so what are you getting the wrong idea for?

December 19, 2020

> Dropping by a cafe together really makes us feel like lovers, I love it~❤️ What do you want to drink, Bitch-chan? ...That? Hmm, what a beautiful green color. I like it. Let’s order this one. Why don’t we enjoy both the sweet and the slight touch of bitter* together?

--> Laito refers to the bitterness as ‘オトナの苦味’ or ‘otona no nigami’ which literally means ‘a mature bitterness’. I’ve actually seen this used before in slogans for food in Japanese, especially when it comes to products with dark chocolate, they’ll put something like ‘a grown-up flavor’ on there, implying that it’s something generally enjoyed by adults rather than children.

December 24, 2020 (Christmas)

> Merry Christmas, Bitch-chan~ Oh dear? That face...Were you expecting a present, perhaps? In that case, come to my room? I’ll make sure blow・your・mind~

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

I Like Boys

A Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Story

Master List

Pairing: Stucky   |  Word Count: 2256  |  Warnings: Language

Based on the Todrick Hall song I Like Boys

A/N: With all the crazy in the world right now, I thought we could all use a little something fun and fluffy. This is my first Pride fic, please be kind as I did my absolute best. Love who you love, people. There’s nothing greater in life.

This fic is for @magellan-88​ who inspires me even when she doesn’t intend to.

***

James Buchanan Barnes was ninety-seven years old when his Hydra programming finally broke. He spent two years running from his best friend, another two in cryo, and five after that apparently blipped into nothing. After the fight - were, somehow, they all came out alive - Bucky decided, fuck it! 

How many times had he almost died? How many chances had he had? How many more would he waste before finally living his best life?

So he retired—sort of. 

There was no such thing as "retiring" when your idiot best friend continued to throw himself out of planes and into the line of fire on a regular basis, but Steve did slow down. He took on a more managerial role, was promoted to "General" for his service, and spent his days sitting on his ass behind a desk. 

Bucky liked him there. He liked having Steve unbruised and unbusted at the end of the day, saunter through the door to their joint living space and holler, "Honey, I'm home!"

It was a joke on the blond's part that was wearing thin, for when Bucky decided to live his best life, he'd begun to do some research about what that meant. Be true to you was a big part of it. But to be true to himself, he had to be honest with himself, and honesty meant admitting he'd been in love with Steven "is this a test" Rogers for most of his natural life. 

Sadly, Steve liked girls. Case in point, one Peggy "gonna bust some balls" Carter. 

Bucky couldn't exactly compete with that. She was one classy dame, and it hurt him to know that Steve would likely never move on. This era and it's dating rituals had thrown Cap for a loop. Women were too forward, and Steve - surprisingly - too shy to dive into the world of casual dates and sex. 

For Bucky, it was different. He liked boys. There, he'd said it, but he still hadn't said it to Steve. Natasha, however, was a different story. She'd grown used to him sighing and pining on her shoulder. She said she hated it - she didn't - but she bitched enough for both of them. 

Then she took him shopping. 

While he was standing in some place called Sephora with miles of makeup and aisle of perfume that kind of made him want to sneeze, he had the shock of his life. All this "girly" crap everywhere, but in the middle of it was a guy? A cute guy. With well-groomed hair and this fabulous winged eyeliner - nothing like his Hydra days - wearing really cute skinny jeans and glitter on his cheeks. 

Enchanted, Bucky left Natasha's side and slowly made his way over. The guy, man, guy he wasn't sure, looked up and flashed him a smile. 

"Help you, honey?"

Bucky blinked. He had fantastic skin. "You're so shiny." A flush immediately reddened his face. 

But Sephora Guy, whose name ended up being Ben, laughed and lightly patted his arm. "Aw, thanks, sweets. You looking for some skin care tips?"

Bucky nodded, unsure what else to do. 

"Honey, you came to the right fella!" 

Ben grabbed his wrist and led him to a chair where he bid Bucky sit. For the next hour, he was educated on everything from moisturizer to foundation to why Ben wore makeup. They talked about hair care, skin care, and what it meant to be "out" with such enthusiasm. Bucky had never spoken so candidly with anyone about his sexuality and found it enlightening. 

He left the shop with five hundred dollars worth of product, a list for the hair salon, and a bunch of links to reputable websites if Bucky had more questions. 

The smug on Natasha said she set him up, but he didn't care. He'd had the best day.

And when everything wound up on the counter in his and Steve's shared bathroom, Steve only arched a brow, smiled, and said nothing. 

Bucky continued to learn, research, and occasionally visit the mall to have coffee with Ben or his partner Matt. They were always kind, never impatient, and easy-going. He'd begun to wonder if they hadn't realized who he was until one day he asked, and they both looked at him with amused smiles. 

"Metal arm, slightly brooding, runs around after a "little punk" but now with a much better skin routine? Honey. Please," Ben snorted.

After, Bucky began to explore and try new things. He cooked, found a love for baking, and especially loved baking for Steve. The man refused to slow down, so it never affected Steve's physique, but Bucky found he was a little bit softer around the middle, his face fuller, his body less hard, and he liked it. 

It was nice not to be combat-ready all the time. Sure he could strap on the black and spend nine hours running down Hydra, that hadn't changed, but he had the smallest pudge of a belly, a soft little roll that he loved. 

Then, out of the blue, Natasha introduced him to roller derby. 

Bucky was thrilled! He'd never seen anything so flashy, showy, violent in all his life that was meant to be fun! Oh, sure he'd watch the wrestling that showed up on TV, but he felt most of that was so phony. This? This was chaos. This was mayhem. 

This was freaking awesome!

And the women were great. They were loud and boisterous, or sweet and shy, but when they put on their gear, they all became demons. Natasha occasionally trained with the group known as Red's Devils, a group of women from difficult circumstances she sponsored during the blip. It gave the ladies an outlet for grief, anger, pain that they wouldn't have had otherwise.

Once they met him, they'd put him in a pair of roller skates and dragged him around the track. Of course, with the serum and his enhanced body, getting his balance and figuring out how to move on wheels was cake, and soon he was skating around the room, learning neat tricks and tips from the women catcalling and laughing along with him

Bucky loved it. 

Finally, after seventy years as a Hydra pawn and all the crap that came afterward, he'd figured it out, found himself, and was happy. The only thing he wasn't satisfied with was Steve. 

It was getting harder and harder to pretend like he didn't tent his pants every time the big dumb blond wandered through the apartment in a towel. Or that "Honey, I'm home!" didn’t make his damn heart flutter. Some days it hurt to look at his stupid beautiful face and not want to kiss it. Or punch it. 

He swore Steve's shirts were getting tighter. Sometimes, it felt like his eyes lingered. 

The shit was messing with his head, dammit!

Then, just as the world was getting it's shit back together, the pandemic happened. Covid 19 struck, and everything stopped. The world stood still, went into lockdown, and Bucky wanted to slam his head on the wall.

He had been going to his first Pride event with Ben and Matt, ready to step outside and be who he was, while those who didn't approve could kiss his lily-white ass. He was going to tell Steve. He was going to stop hiding, conforming, resiting who he was. And it all went to shit thanks to a fucking virus.

He was pissed! It wasn't fair! He'd been so prepared. 

Natasha found him pouting on the couch in the common area of the now mostly empty compound. Anyone who could go home was sent home, leaving them running a skeleton crew of people, and forcing as much separation as possible. 

She flopped down mostly on top of him. "Why so glum, chum?"

"Pride's cancelled," he muttered. 

She snorted. "No, it's not."

He rolled his eyes. "We're under a shelter in place order, Natalia."

"I'm aware, Barnes," she huffed. "But Pride isn't cancelled. Just because you can't strut down the street waving a rainbow flag doesn't stop what this month is about. It's about you, celebrating you, and all the people who came before you who fought, screamed, raged against injustice and in some cases, died to be able to stand up proudly and say I'm gay, I'm bisexual, I'm transgender. You can't go out. That doesn't mean you can't celebrate."

She patted his chest and left him sitting there to think about what she said.

***

The music that pounded through the compound jerked Steve's head up. Reports forgotten, he rose and went to look out his office door, only to gape in shock as Bucky, wearing the shortest, tightest, black shorts he'd ever seen and a cropped top that showed off his cute little belly, rolled by on roller skates. He'd cut his hair not long ago, his interest in styling it a new hobby. Right now, it was fluffed high and held there with wax, looking soft and shiny and pretty as hell. Glitter sparkled on his cheeks, on his lashes, and glossed his lips. 

He smirked as he rolled by, blue eyes amused. "Close your mouth, Rogers."

Steve swallowed thickly and followed Bucky down the hallway. Those shorts should be illegal. The top wasn't much better. The cropped top was blue, sleeveless, showing off defined muscles and metal arm. His skin freaking glowed against the blue. 

It was seriously unfair how hot his best friend was, and Steve thanked his lucky stars he'd worn sweats and underwear today that helped disguise the tent forming in his pants. 

When Bucky stooped to pick up a big ass rainbow flag, Steve's jaw dropped. He knew what June first represented, how did Bucky?

Like a moth to a flame, Steve followed Bucky into the common room where Bucky was skating in happy circles, singing along to the music. 

"I like boys, I like pecs, like them arms when they flex. Like that print in them sweats. Tell them, girls, "Thank you, next." I like when they text me sexy pics of 'em, like them abs when there's six of 'em. Tell them girls I'm sorry; I like boys, Mama, boys like me."

Steve's jaw dropped. His mind refused to compute what he was hearing. It blue screened, whited out, and returned in time to watch Bucky drop it low and twerk like he'd done it all his life. 

"I like when they shake it, shake it. I like when they grind real slow. I like when they almost naked. Tell dad I'm so homo. Lights off, doors shut. Tall, dark, clean-cut. Thick with a bubble but. Yup, Mama, I like boys."

A sound like a fax machine escaped his throat as Bucky danced, shook his ass, swung his hips, and sent Steve's mind so far into the gutter he wondered if it would ever come out. 

"Bitch, B to the O to the Y to the S, Boys will be boys, and with boys, I'm obsessed. Boys in their gym clothes, boys in a dress, and if boys are a crime, then I'm under arrest. 'Cause I've been boy crazy since the boy scouts. Fuck the closets, let the boys out. Don't be a camel when you are a llama, period. No comma, bring on all the drama. Mama, I like boys, I like pecs, like them arms when they flex. Like that print in them sweats. Tell them girls, "Thank you, next." I like when they text me sexy pics of 'em. Like them abs when there's six of 'em. Tell them girls I'm sorry; I like boys, Mama, boys like me."

The music continued to play, but Bucky rolled away from the window, leaving the flag he'd been carrying behind on the couch when he skated up to Steve and stopped. On the skates, Bucky was inches taller and caused Steve to tilt his head back to look up at him as he had when they were kids. 

"So," Bucky murmured, a blush under the glitter and eyes suddenly shy and uncertain. "I like boys."

Steve's heart clenched. Before he could stop himself or second guess what he was doing, his hand shot out, grabbed the back of Bucky's neck, and dragged his friend down in a kiss that had been pent up for almost a century. 

Bucky squeaked, flailed once, almost rolled away, and finally wrapped his arms around Steve in a near bone-crushing hug. Lips slanted, mouths softened, parted, inhaled, changed the angle and softened. 

Tingles raced through Steve's body as he kissed Bucky, his Bucky, pouring every bit of emotion he felt into it. Then, he nipped his teeth into Bucky's lip and slowly pulled away. 

"I'm bisexual," Steve murmured. "I've known for years."

"You punk-ass piece of shit! Why didn't you say something?" Bucky barked, but Steve noticed he didn't let go. 

"There wasn't time." He gently squeezed Bucky's nape. "And how do you tell your best friend in the whole world you've been in love with him your entire life?"

"Steve…" Bucky whispered, resting their foreheads together. "You're an idiot."

Steve kissed him again because there was no refuting that logic.

***

From the second-floor observation deck, Natasha turned her phone camera from the scene below to her grinning face. The live stream event had hearts and comments blowing up her Instagram. "Happy Pride everyone. If those two old farts can figure it out, anyone can." 

She blew a kiss at the camera and ended the stream.

-The End- 

[renaerys]

PPG One-Shot: Six Degrees Chiller (Brick/Blossom)

A new cute one-shot in honor of @carriedreamerx birthday! In the same high school AU as part 1, part 2, and part 3, but can totally stand-alone. Also posted on my AO3. Tune in for some laughs and some Reds cuteness!

Summary: Brick goes deodorant shopping. It doesn't end well. (Or does it??)

xxx

Brick squinted at the nine-foot shelf packed with a full color wheel of deodorants and antiperspirants. The sheer surfeit of brands and scents was as daunting to behold as it was absolutely batshit insane—how many ways did people need to not smell like a dirty gym sock?

He picked a random stick and scowled at the label as if it had offended him and all his future progeny. Who the fuck would want to smell like mango lassi?

The squeak of a shopping cart rolling down the aisle sent Brick into a febrile panic for a hot second, and he shoved the saccharine deodorant stick back onto the shelf. A geriatric woman with a hunched back, a bright head scarf, and eyes so folded over with wrinkles it was a miracle she could see anything at all wheeled her cart slowly past Brick, who froze where he stood. She smiled politely at him, and he nodded out of sheer self-preservation instinct. The moment she passed him, he yanked the bill of his red cap lower over his eyes.

“Get a grip,” he grumbled. He was an eighteen-year-old guy buying deodorant, not stool softener. He was totally casual and had absolutely no reason to be so fucking paranoid. Nobody who might recognize him was coming to Cooper’s Market at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.

Brick wiped his clammy palms on his jeans and searched the shelves for what he’d come for so he could hurry up and leave. There it was, fifth shelf in a sea of sleek black and edgy, neon letters: Axe Ice Chill.

“Okay, do you consider yourself more of a music lover, sports star, gaming guru, or style icon?” Boomer had asked as he sat cross-legged on the sofa with his laptop open to the Axe “Find Your Magic” test a few months ago.

“Sports star,” Butch had said on his left, and poked the screen that wasn’t a touch-screen.

“That’s you, moron,” Brick had said, totally above this stupid test. “Pick style icon.”

Boomer grinned. “Oh yeah, your hoodies are so stylin’.” He clicked the next question. “Signature scent? Huh, maybe warm and aromatic?”

“Sounds like one of those Yankee holiday candles,” Butch had said.

Unfortunately, he had a point.

“Well, you're not exactly woody and earthy, and you’re definitely not fruity and sweet—”

“Just go to the next one.” Brick clicked on “fresh and cool” and waited for the screen to load. “Smellin’ good!” the loading page flashed at him. Jesus fucking Christ.

When the quiz presented a true or false statement, Butch moved like he had a bug up his ass and slammed the touchpad before Brick or Boomer could do anything about it.

Boomer tried not to laugh. “Dude, come on.”

“Please, he’s a punk-ass dweeb who’d never make the first move in a fight, let alone on a girl—” Butch had taunted.

Brick punched him in the throat with his Super speed and smiled at the sound of his asshat brother gagging. “Choke and die, motherfucker.”

Butch wheezed as he laughed through the pain, and Brick and Boomer breezed through the more generic age and appearance questions: under 18, long hair (“Mane Man!” the quiz gushed, and Brick almost melted Boomer’s laptop right there), and natural look. After an artificially anticipatory loading screen, a picture of a dude with a clown nose crowd surfing in a sepia Instagram filter appeared on the screen with the generic “Be your best self!” encouragement in blocky letters superimposed upon it, and finally the expert, personalized recommendation for Brick’s body spray needs.

“Because you’re hotter when you’re chill.” Brick had cringed when he read that idiotic tagline the first time, and he cringed reading it again now in the deserted personal hygiene aisle where he prayed no one would find him buying this cry-for-help vanity spritz.

However.

He sprayed a bit of mist in the air and reveled in that cool, icy scent that wasn’t a scent so much as a feeling. Six degrees chiller in a bottle. The first time he’d tried it (under great duress), he’d griped and bitched and slammed his bedroom door to get away from his howling brothers. Settled on his bed with a frown, he had to admit it did cool him off. It was almost pleasant. The smell wasn’t overwhelming like that tiger piss Butch bathed in on the daily. But it wasn’t out of this world compared to the generic shit he’d been using before.

It wasn’t until Blossom sneezed on their way out of AP Lit that her ice breath—and understanding—hit him with the force of a cold snap to the balls.

“Sorry, did I get you?” she’d said, abashed as she covered her mouth with one hand and fished out a bottle of Purell from her messenger bag with the other. Her ice splatter fast melted on his shoulder as his too-warm body absorbed the cold with a bizarre, but extremely pleasant, shiver down his spine.

Son of a bitch, but he had a kink.

Which, of course, spiraled way the hell out of control when he found himself here months later with a recycled shopping bag he’d brought so he could carry the three bottles of Axe Ice Chill he planned to purchase home, because Brick planned ahead and liked to keep his bathroom well-stocked.

Which also, of course, was why at that very moment, fate decided to punch him in the dick.

“Bubbles, you have, like, fourteen bottles of shampoo at home! You don’t need another one,” Buttercup groused at 8 in the goddamned morning on a Sunday.

“Those are all different products, not just shampoo. Honestly, Buttercup.” Bubbles zipped into the aisle with Buttercup on her tail just at the moment Brick had his second panic attack in the span of five minutes and completely lost his shit.

He launched the bottle of Axe Ice Chill so hard into the ceiling that it lodged in there tighter than a prairie-dogging turd.

���Brick?” Blossom’s hand on his shoulder nearly sent him yeeting after his abused body spray, if the sheer mortification didn’t rob him of further motor function and exactly one hundred percent of his brain cells.

Like her sisters, she wore a jacket over her pajama pants. They must have just popped over for some last-minute breakfast staples and a side of peer humiliation. But even in those criminally hideous Ugg boots and five boxes of pancake mix in her shopping basket at 8 on a fucking Sunday morning, her smile glowed.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he returned lamely, because that was all she was getting from him until his neurological functions rebooted.

“Hi, Brick,” Buttercup said, suspicious like usual and searching for some excuse to bust his balls for a laugh. “What’re you doing here?”

The Super sisters had cornered him in front of the Teen Spirit, which came in an absolutely frightful eighteen scents because there was nothing pubescent teenagers needed more than eighteen reassurances that their social survival depended on smelling like a potpourri candy bar.

“Shopping, obviously,” Bubbles said. “Ooh, Brick, you have straight hair. What do you think?” She held up two bottles of brightly colored free-range, organic hair shit.

“I think I was just leaving,” he managed.

“Empty-handed?” Buttercup peered at him like he might transform into a literal dick with ears if she only managed not to blink for long enough. He could smell the threat of a joke on her.

“They didn’t have the brand I wanted.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Bubbles said, genuinely stricken.

“Girls, let’s get going. I really want those pancakes,” Blossom said.

“We better grab more syrup. Buttercup finished it all,” Bubbles said, already moving away. She dropped both hair products in Blossom’s basket, not bothering to choose between them.

“Oh please, everybody knows you and the Professor are the syrup fiends in this house.” Buttercup floated after her and waved to Brick. “Hey, tell that shithead to answer my texts. He owes me $20.”

“Uh-huh,” Brick said, fully intending not to mention anything about this conversation to Butch at all.

“Sorry about your favorite brand being sold out,” Blossom said.

It’s fine, he would have said had she not caught his cheek in her hand and pressed a frosty kiss to the corner of his lips before he could do anything about it. Frozen fernlings crept over his cheek and chin, down his neck, and slowly absorbed through his now flushed skin, and he shivered. Without even thinking about it, he reached for her, but she was already walking away to catch up with her sisters.

When she got to the end of the aisle, she shot him a cheeky grin over her shoulder and had the nerve to wink at him. “Stay cool, Brick.”

Red in the face and high on her, Brick just stood there like an idiot gawking at his kind of unofficial girlfriend and the singular dominating object of his fantasies, be they sexual or otherwise. What was dignity when she smiled at him like that? What was a paltry imitation in a bottle when she kissed him like that?

The paltry imitation fell from its hole in the ceiling and exploded on the tiled floor at Brick’s feet with a winter ferocity that, in that moment at least, rivaled Blossom’s in the heat of battle.

When Brick got home later that morning and Boomer asked him why he smelled like a snowman’s asshole, Brick burned the clothes on his back and spent the next half hour in the shower thinking about how he was going to convince Blossom to make the first move and finally make them official.

xxx

Y’all better appreciate the research that went into this fic. That Axe quiz is real and I took it pretending to be Brick, and it literally does spit out a photo of a dude wearing a clown nose in a club. If that’s not a sign from the Daddy that I’ve chosen the righteous path, then idk what is. Sacrifices to my Chrome search history were made for this fic in the name of celebrating Carrie, ergo, worth it.

[veldian]

tell us more of ur think tank hcs i personally am at the edge of my seat

HELL YEAH ALRIGHT HERE WE GO. some of these might be against canon in some way but that's your fault for trusting me with this

ALSO, AS USUAL, I HAVE TO APOLOGIZE. THIS GOT VERY LONG. when i think about the tanks i go fuckin wild with it

starting with pride headcanons to get the ball rolling

all the tanks are nonbinary, but additionally, dala is a trans woman and 0 is a trans man

8 hates gender he fucking hates it. every day he wakes up and says "today i will make gender my bitch" and then he does. he says this in the game too you just don't know cuz he only speaks in static (don't factcheck this)

if you ask 8 what pronouns she uses, they will shrug and give you a "i dunno" noise. sometimes it'll make a non-committal hand movement and some unintelligible noises. good luck

god this bitch (borous) is gay! good for him! good for him.

he's also intersex! i don't remember where we got that hc but i like it and im holding onto it

okay but borous calls himself bi because yeah Men, but he also loves dala very much and doesn't want to misgender her. also as previously stated, 8's main goal is to confuse everyone about their gender so the tanks all stick with mspec labels to be on the safe side. you never know what'll happen. gender is a ticking time bomb

bi gang: klein, borous, 0

pan gang: dala, mobius

don't ask her about any of her identities she doesn't know the answer either: 8

have i gone off about polytank dynamics enough? i don't think so

8 and dala started dating first because horny bitches gravitate towards each other. they can also "pass" as a "straight couple" so hopefully no one at work will look at them and call them slurs. hopefully

klein and borous knocked things out of the park for being the first gay scientists ever

8 and dala became polyam icons and pulled 0 in. trans bitches gravitate towards each other

klein and borous did the same with mobius. bitches with facial hair gravitate towards each other

???????

idk and then all six of them started dating somehow. the end

somewhere along the way klein and 8 were like "i like you a little too much" and now they're inseparable

okay anyway. misc hcs

ive mentioned this before but when i pretend everything is in modern times, 0 is a tiktokker and he thrives on the attention and making fun of his coworkers on the internet

"watching steven universe repeatedly when i felt even slightly bad transed my gender" - doctor 8 old world blues

i just remembered i made a carrd for the tanks as if they were kinnies in their early to mid 20s

8 kinned pearl su. borous kinned werewolf cookie. 0 kinned rimmer red dwarf. mobius kinned... morbius forbidden planet. obviously. klein refused to put his kins on it. DID DALA KIN FROM DANGANRONPA

i think at one point we had a half-joking hc where klein gets nauseous if he sees blood

and then that changed to he can't see others blood, only his own

while borous can't see his own blood, but he's fine seeing other ppl's

i know borous said that gabe barked at everyone, but i think gabe trusts the other tanks because he knows borous does

borous set up a kissing booth with gabe. the crowd goes wild

when the tanks get together they usually go to klein's. he's the leader or something. also he has a fucking bar in his house.

he complains about them the whole time but you can really tell he loves having people over. why else would he deck his house out like that? he LOVES hosting stuff. house husband

if you saw my chart where i said klein would rather die than do dishes, i was so wrong. his house is pristine. its easily the cleanest

klein's love language is acts of service. he goes over to his partners' houses when they feel awful and clean stuff up for them when they can't. he also makes them food if they want it. he only complains a little, but you can tell he's mostly teasing

did you know klein has five mugs in his kitchen in-game. he's literally prepared to host his partners at any given moment.

the group have learned that letting 8 come over when their house is a mess is a Huge mistake. it goes from 8 trying to help "tidy up" to "im going to put your books and albums in alphabetical order by artist also your clothes are going to be hue-sorted"

"8 why are there only 8 books on each of my bookshelves"

"it looks better"

"it literally does not"

8 can no longer stomach going into 0's house

on the other hand, 0 hates staying in 8's house. the ticking of all their clocks is sensory hell

on 80 date nights they have to do rock-paper-scissors for which house they go to. or they go out. they love each other but their houses drive the other fucking nuts

oh speaking of their houses. yes dala said she didn't like Literal Teddy Bears but that is null and void considering she has teddies in her house

and she has 5 on her bed. five of them :)

she named all of them after her partners! its mostly cute but there is a slight bit of concern because they know what she does with them <__<

not that 8 has any place to judge. mobius found batteries under its pillow once. all 8 said was "they can vibrate." mobius regrets touching them.

i don't know what to say about dala's mannequins i don't have anything funny im just scared

WHY ARE 0 AND KLEIN THE ONLY ONES WITH BATHROOMS IT DRIVES ME INSANE 0'S BATHTUB ISNT EVEN LAYING DOWN ITS AGAINST THE WALL WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT GENERATOR IN HIS BATHROOM DO THE OTHER TANKS JUST SHIT OUTSIDE I'M SEEING RED

mobius and 0 are both into robotics, and they worked together to make muggy, so they've had date nights where they mainly tinker with electronic things.

0 gets very excited when he makes a breakthrough, and seeing that warms mobius's heart. mobius made a habit of kissing 0 on the forehead or squeezing 0 into a hug when they figure things out.

(0 remembers he likes men.) 😳

dala/klein date nights are essentially just them drinking and gossiping chatting

i asked polycule for some more, so here are ones from your local think tank kinnies

borous -

"klein and borous both like classical music in very different ways. klein mostly likes it to feel smart (see: wheatley) but he just started associating it with the others so it felt nicer And borous just likes it bc hes borous"

klein also likes jazz, but so do all the rest of them

8 has a cochlear implant

"dala likes dressing up to look pretty (see: runway) but is personally embarrassed by it (until she gets encouragement) bc she feels like the others dont support that"

"0 loves collecting and reading those stupid magazines with the birthday party products and themes that ud wanna buy from as a kid but are way too expensive"

"mobius has a secret love for puppetry and will try to bring it up sometimes whenever he can. hes made 3 separate sets of the other tanks as puppets and they freak 0 out"

"borous, in an attempt to better his faults, has started learning from dala and 8 on how to take care of plants instead of what he did before. his basement turns into a cool little green house cozy cuddle area"

"to add on: 8 gardens to cope whenever hes alone bc (projects onto ur kin) he mood drops very fast when alone"

"mobius likes dressing in cozy sweaters and fancy stuff"

0 -

"0 doesn't like anal that much" (thanks.)

dala -

"their new rap album called boyz in the tanks" (THANKS.)

and to top things off, :) here are the normal names for them all, created primarily by our borous kinnie

klein - Ernest Klein (nicknamed ernie)

mobius - Wilbert Mobius (nicknamed bert)

borous - James H. Borous (nicknamed jamie)

dala - Dala Theodore (HER NICKNAME IS TEDDY ITS GENIUS)

8 - Emmett Handley (nicknamed 8 + emmy)

0 - Robert O'Barrick (nicknamed 0/O + robbie (HIM SHARING HOUSE'S NAME IS INTENTIONAL. HE'S TRANS HE PICKED HIS NAME WHY DID HE DO THIS))

[sanders-sides-fic]

Cousin’s support

2,868 words

triggers: implied death, cheating, cursing, being kicked out, mentioned toxic relationship, mentioned hate against polyamory (please let me know if I should add anything else)

It started with a tragedy.

Roman and Remus moved back into the cold, abandoned house about a year after it had happened. Not much had changed, but that surely didn’t help. The only reason they even still had the house was because their parents had bought the property and had the house built there, and it’d been payed off right away. Their parents hadn’t been rich, per se, but they had always had the habit of saving wherever they could so they didn’t have any debts to pay. They’d only been in debt once, and that hadn’t even been for more than three years. Roman and Remus had had… interesting parents, if you wanted to say it like that.

Anyways, the house was all theirs, and they didn’t have to pay rent. So, while both water and juice had been caught off without anyone to pay for it, the house was theirs still. The only problem was that there was a lot of renovating to be done. And both Remus and Roman were university students. In other words: Both twins were broke. Absolutely broke. That had been the reason Roman initially had the idea to rent some rooms out to friends, kind of a shared living kinda situation. Their friends had basically lived with them anyways. Patton, not liking the quiet of his often empty apartment, was thrilled at the idea. Logan has said that it was only logical, and since everyone of them would benefit he agreed. 

Remus, however, said that it would only be fair on the condition that it meant he would be allowed to invite some of his friends as well. And Roman agreed, though not without hesitating. Not because he had anything against it as such, but because Remus had a habit of picking rather strange fellows as his friends. But the two that he choose were more than alright with Roman, and he suspected the older twin had taken Roman’s concerns into consideration.

Yes, Remy and Janus were alright. Remy was nice enough, tough a bit chaotic, and he wasn’t home most of the time anyways. How that man worked, slept and payed for all that coffee was beyond any of his room mates, but he was caring when it came down to it and fun to be around in general. And while Janus was a teasing, flirting, dramatic liar with enough flair to pass as a character on a broadway production and a never ending pool of sarcasm… Well, he had strict morals, though it was anyone’s guess what those were, and he made a point to almost force the others to take care of themselves. Even with - hopefully - empty threats, if needed.

And the six of them were surprisingly functioning rather well. They complimented each other, were there for each other, filled in wherever another one fell short, and made sure to pull each other out of harmful habits. Within five months after the house was renovated and they’d moved in for good none of them could imagine living without the others.

Until the 19th of December.

It was cold. Well, cold for Florida. 37 degrees weren’t exactly cold for winter anywhere else, but… Well, it was chilly with the wind blowing mercilessly and it was raining cats and dogs out there. So when someone knocked, at almost nine in the afternoon no less, they were all surprised.

They’d been sitting in the shared space and talked, throwing popcorn at each other as they debated Disney. But the knocking had sounded urgent, even though it had been just three knocks. It was Remy who stood up and went over, opening the door - and he gasped when he saw who it was. The others could see them as Remy still blocked the view, but if Remy had gasped like that it couldn’t be good. A lot of concerned glances were exchanged. 

“Uh, hi… Hi, Remy.”, a voice hesitantly spoke up, almost a mumble. It was a rough voice and it sounded like they had been crying. Even less good.

“V?! What are you doing here? What… You didn’t walk here, did you?”, Remy cried out. Silence, but apparently they had answered one way or the other, because Remy gasped again. “Gurl, it’s raining. Scratch that, it’s pouring out there! You’re gonna die.”

“Gee, thanks. I hadn’t noticed.”, they said and one could basically hear the eye roll. Then there was a sigh. “I just… I didn’t know what else to do and… God, I feel so stupid, but… Can I, like, crash on the couch? If, if your room mates don’t mind? I just… You know, I just don’t know where to go.”

Remy didn’t even miss a beat before he answered: “Gurl, of cause. Come in!” And when he stepped to the side, he revealed a figure in dark clothing. His purple hair dripped from underneath the black and purple patchwork hoody he wore, his purple converse had to be drenched too and the black jeans clung to his legs. He was shivering ever so slightly and even with his head lowed slightly, you could see the way his eyeliner was running. The guy, V, gave Remy a doubtful glance but stepped in anyways.

“Wait here, I’ll go get a towel.”, Remy said to him as he closed the door. The guy nodded, not looking up. Then he turned to the other people in the room. “Would you guys mind making a coffee- no, not that. Tea? Uh, a hot chocolate? Something to warm him up.” Patton, of cause, nodded right away and jumped up.

The guy himself flinched at that, looking at Remy almost panicked. “Oh, no, that’s not… I don’t need-” But Remy was gone already and he cut himself off with a sigh. For a few moments he just stood there, shifting uncomfortably in the silence as Patton rummaged through the kitchen. Then he took a deep breath and looked over, a shaky smile playing with black lips. “Uh, hi? Sorry to just drop in on you. Uh… Janus. Remus. ‘s been a while.”

And Roman hadn’t noticed, but next to him Janus had been frozen and this seemed to snap him out of it. He’d never seen Janus jump up that fast, or reach out to someone with such a concerned look on his face, fingers hovering just above someone else as though he was afraid of them disappearing if he did. “Virgil?”, he whispered breathless. And the guy nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Virgil, what happened? Why are you here? You live on the other side of town and you… Is that blood?”

For a moment Virgil looked confused, but then a light seemed to dawn on him and he touched his left cheek, bringing his finger tips back red. “Oh. Oh! That fucker scratched me.”

“Who did? It wasn’t Jurij, was it?” That was Remy, coming back with a black towel in his hand and a few clothes of his own. Virgil hesitated, but nodded after a few seconds. For some reason, that seemed to make Janus angry. “Your boyfriend hurt you?” Virgil nodded again.

“Well… I mean, I don’t think he was thinking clearly or he wouldn’t have… God, why am I even defending him? He’s just… God! I hate him. I fucking hate him!”

Silence. It was Remus speaking up this time: “What happened?” Virgil glared at the wall for a little bit. Then he took a shuddering breath, fists clenched and tears welling up in his eyes.

“He cheated on me. Didn’t even leave the room to pick up her call. Got angry when I confronted him, said I had no right to be mad about it. So I broke up. And he… lost it. Slapped me, yelled, called me a pretentious slut, pushed me out the door and locked it. The neighbors eventually threatened to call the cops because of the noise, so I…”

“Walked here? In the dark? While it was raining?” Virgil nodded again.

“I would’ve called or taken the bus or something, but I don’t have my phone or money, so…”

“Shit. Shit, Virge, I’m so sorry. Do you want me… I can go over there and make them choke on their own blood, if you want.” Virgil cringed at Remus’ words. “Ah. I see you haven’t changed much.” Remus only flashed a grin that just looked way too proud.

“Well, you go change and dry up. Don’t worry, I got you covered. We’ll figure this out in the morning.”, Remy interrupted, patting Virgil’s shoulder. And Roman’s heart clenched when he saw the hesitant hope building in Virgil’s dark eyes. “You sure? I mean, I just panicked. I can figure out something else if you want me to, probably. I don’t… I don’t wanna be a bother.”

And Remy put both his hands on Virgil’s shoulders, looking deep inside his eyes and went: “No - Do you hear me? - fucking way.” And when Virgil didn’t look convinced yet, Remy placed his hands on his hips in what he called his “bitch, please”-pose. “How many times did you let me crash on your couch when I was drunk and lost? And even if ya didn’t, gurl, you’re family. Now, get your ass into the shower before you get a cold or, so god help me, I will smother the living hell out of you with blankets and cookies. Got it?”

Roman had never seen Remy showing his care fore someone so openly on his face. Not once. And Virgil quirked a smile and mumbled a thanks, before taking the towel and the clothes and vanishing into the bathroom. How he found it on the first try, Roman did not know. It usually took him ages to find the right door in his friends’ places, and Virgil hadn’t even asked for directions.

Janus stayed where he was, trembling in unadulterated rage, perfectly manicured hands clenched into fists tightly enough to color them white. “I’ll kill that asshole. I can’t believe him! Seriously. Pretentious slut? No right to be mad?”

“I share the sentiment, hun, but Virge wouldn’t approve, so no. Still… I knew that bitch was no good.”, Remy forced out, teeth gritted.

“Of cause not!”, Remus exclaimed in a high pitched screech, “You know what he said at the beginning. Every fucking word out of his mouth was either a lie or a red flag. I seriously don’t know why Virgy even liked him. He’s an asshole, and not the good kind either!”

Janus relaxed in what looked like defeat. “Yes, well, sometimes we accept the love we think we deserve.”

“That’s bull. Virge deserves so much more!”

“And you think I don’t know that?!” That was the first time he had ever seen Janus scream. Not raising his voice, literally screaming. “But he doesn’t. Besides, you study psychology, don’t you? So you should know very well what manipulation does to you.”

Silence.

“I think three of us are pretty confused right now. Mind telling us who this is?”, Patton asked from next to Roman, a mug of steaming hot chocolate with cream and sprinkles on top. He’d used his own, the glittery and colorful ones, and the food coloring had started to sip into the cream. It was a sign of how much Patton cared, even though he obviously didn’t know Virgil any better than Roman himself, and he wondered briefly if he’d heard what Virgil had said about his now-ex earlier. But mainly Roman wondered when the hell his friend had come back into the room.

“Yes, naturally.”, Janus said, because of cause it was Janus who managed to calm down enough to at least put on a calm facade first. “This just now was Remy’s cousin, Virgil Black. He used to go to school with Remus and I, and that’s how we became friends with Remy in the first place, frankly. Virgil is also the one Remy talks about when he says he won’t come home for the night because he’s staying at his cousin’s.”

“Virgy used to be closer to us back in high school.”, Remus took over, and such a soft voice was all wrong coming from Remus. “But his ex was a dick, and when we found out that he was a dick he decided to push Virgil away from us. Made us look like the bad guys and guilt tripped him and all that. It usually wasn’t that bad until we found out that…” At this point he shared a look with Remy, who nodded once. So Remus continued: “Well, Virgy is ace and polyamorous. And he hadn’t been out to anyone but his friend for a while, but suddenly the entire school knew. That was on him.”

“And as if that wasn’t bad enough, he called him a whore. Said being polyamorous meant he was easy, which is just… just, no. So we had a little intervention, and… Well, the bitch couldn’t cut me off because I’m his family and he wouldn’t ever leave his family behind, but-”

“-but he got Virgil to stop talking to us. Or any of his friends, as far as I heard.”, Janus sighed. Remy shot him a glare for the interruption, but nodded in confirmation.

“So, let me sum this up.”, Logan asked, eyes squinted and mouth pressed to a hard line. “Virgil is Remy’s cousin, who just get kicked out by his ex-boyfriend, who has double standards and considers it fair to cheat on him, after ending a toxic relationship. Said ex-boyfriend manipulated and isolated him, thus leaving you two unable to help. He has no where to stay and decided to turn to Remy, which lead him to walk to the other side of the city, at…” Logan glanced at the clock “nine p.m., in the rain. He is most probably emotionally scarred from this toxic relationship, and might feel insecure about his romantic orientation. Did I miss anything?”

Three people shook their heads. Roman took the chance to glance at his room mates. Remus looked angry, Remy looked defeated, Janus looked absolutely heart-broken (which was just such a wrong expression on his face), Patton had pressed one hand on his mouth in horror as silent tears feel down his face, and Logan, well, Logan looked absolutely furious.

He himself felt all of those feelings as well.

“I usually showed up unannounced. Otherwise Jurij would schedule something there so I couldn’t come. And whenever I brought up that Virgil might want to leave him… Virgil would never talk about it, but whatever he said made him ignore all my calls and stuff for a week at least.”, Remy sighed, plopping back onto the couch and running his hand through his hair. “I’m just glad it’s over.”

“I agree. Although the end seems to have come in a suboptimal form, from the sounds of it that may prevent him from coming to future harm.”, Logan agreed, his voice still angry but also achingly soft.

It was quiet for a little bit, the shower running the only noise in the entire house. Then Remus looked at Roman, and - dear Shakespeare - he couldn’t stand his twin’s usually bright and mischievous eyes being filled with such a pleading look. “I know we said both of us were allowed to invite two friends each, but…”

Roman knew what he was asking. And even if the way Remus looked at him hadn’t been enough to convey the urgency of this request, Roman wouldn’t have dreamed of saying no. He’d want to help Virgil no matter what. So he gave his brother a soft smile. “We never figured out what to do with the room on the end of the hallway, anyways.”

Remus’ face lit up instantly and Janus and Remy looked just as excited. Patton nodded with so much urgency that it made all of them chuckle lightly. Logan rightened his already perfectly positioned glasses and hummed in agreement. “It does seem to be a good decision. If he’s related to Remy and friends with both Janus and Remus I don’t see a reason to mistrust him. And splitting the power and water bill with one more won’t do any harm either. So, as long as Virgil himself agrees…”

Remy laughed at that. “Oh, don’t worry. He won’t, but I’ll get him to understand it’s not a bother sooner or later.”

And Remy was right.

So, while it had started with a tragedy that had left both Roman and Remus with an empty place in their hearts, Roman was happy with what had come from it. Six room mates he adored and, as he watched Janus straightening out nonexistent wrinkles in his shirt for the tenth time at least, next to Logan nervously scanning through a novel, and as he saw Virgil coming down the stairs, giving the two of them a smile… Well, Roman was happy for them. Even though the rest of the house had had to suffer through some serious obliviousness and flirting disguised as arguments. It had been worth it in the end, though.

Seeing three of his best friends going on their first date was worth all of it.

General tag-list: @gattonero17 

[meflemming]

The Ghost of You, It Keeps Me Awake || Solo

TIMING: Present  LOCATION: Flemming Residence, The Woods SUMMARY: Miriam is visited by an old face. She doesn’t take it very well WARNINGS: Body Horror, Gore, Death

Or, a reminder that tigers never change their stripes, and Miriam is, was, and will always be the villain (even if it’s her own story). 

A glass of wine dosed generously with blood. A bathtub filled with bubbles from one of those strange, sweet smelling bombs that Morgan had gotten her. The cursed Alexa actually playing decent music, something soft and classical. All perfect ingredients for a nice day in. 

Miriam didn’t want to stay cooped up in her workshop, pouring over half finished products or cleaning bloodied instruments. She wanted a small break. She wanted to… oh, what was it called? Relax. She wanted to relax, and desperately. So she pulled her hair up and sunk in slowly to the claw-foot tub in her bathroom, feeling more than a little decadent. The wine was nice, the hint of iron bringing out the other, sweeter flavors. She sank down into the water until her nose was completely covered, leaned her hand back, and closed her eyes. She let the music soothe her and willed herself to thinking. This was a relaxing time, not a thinking time. She just needed a bit of a think-free time.

There was a half-finished drawing on her bedside table, a portrait of Theo as she remembered him. She’d been thinking about him far too much, lately, hence her need to not think. More than just thinking about him, she was remembering him far too fondly, all the good times they’d had together. Trips to the lake on hot summer days, going to the movies, candlelit date nights, whispers of sweet nothings in the dark. And he’d faked all of that. There had been no love for her, only for her money, what it could do for him and his rotten coven.

The drawing was half finished because she kept destroying them, throwing his face into fires and garbage disposals. Miriam knew that Elle had found the remnants of one shredded drawing on the kitchen table when she’d watched the house a few nights before, but her assistant hadn’t said anything, merely cleaned the area up and left Miriam a bar of chocolate in its place. Elle didn’t ask questions; what she knew about Miriam’s life was what Miriam had deemed fit to tell the girl, and Elle didn’t blab. It was one of the many things she liked about her. 

Miriam sank down even further into the water, completely submerging and chastising herself. There would be no thinking, not right now. And so she didn’t. She simply stayed submerged in the water, listening to music until the water went cold and the incessant sounds of the ridiculous teeny bopper band that she’d recently learned was called Vampire Weekend started playing on the Alexa, forcing her to emerge from the water to scream at it to shut up.

Reaching for her wine glass, Miriam was going to give herself just a few extra minutes before she drained the tub and dried off. Except there was no wine glass. Miriam’s eyes brinked open.

Theo was not as she remembered him. Rather, he was sitting beside her tub as she’d killed him. Half dressed, half skinned, pale, and with dark, sunken eyes. He’d died of blood loss before she’d even made it above his hips. Her first time skinning someone alive, and it had been messy. She’d cried, too, as he cursed her name to hell and back.

Miriam jerked away from him. Theo took a sip of her wine.

“You even drink blood pretentiously,” he said, his nose wrinkling at the contents of the glass. He smacked his bloodless lips with a bloodless tongue.

“You aren’t real,” Miriam said. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be. She couldn’t smell him, couldn’t hear his wicked heart beating in his wretched chest. He was just another nightmare, a waking one this time, one that had tricked her into thinking she’d brought a glass one wine into the bathroom when she hadn’t. She hadn’t. This wasn’t real. “And I have no desire to deal with any more frivolous fantasy versions of you. Go away, Theo.” She stood up, soaking wet, and grabbed a robe before getting out of the bath. If she didn’t need a drink before, she certainly did as she avoided looking at him. He was just a figment of her imagination. Nothing more. Never anything more. 

“Oh, I’m very real, baby,” he said, his glassy eyes trained on her every move. “I thought, of all people, you’d know better than to not believe in ghosts.”

“Then you’ve finally decided to haunt me after all these years?” she asked. She laughed, the sound of it ringing bitter and hollow.

Theo grinned, taking another sip of her bloody wine. Apparently, even apparitions could grow fond of the taste. “I’ve been given an opportunity. I couldn’t let it pass me by.”

“You’re thirty years too late with any sort of opportunity, darling,” she spat out as she passed him, expecting to go right through him.

Except he was solid. His hand reached out and grabbed her arm, gripping it tightly, so tightly. Miriam jerked away from him, shocked. Theo held firm, his grin full of blood stained teeth almost reaching his eyes.

“I think I’m just in time, darling.” He leaned forward. He didn’t smell, but she could feel his breath on her cheek. It was unnerving. “You killed me, and that would have been enough, but you just had to keep going, didn’t you?”

“You ruined me, you--”

“No, I made you happy, you stupid bitch. I gave you a loving husb--”

“Bullshit!” She pulled away from him this time, her eyes flashing red and her teeth sharp, deadly. She would kill him again if she could. “You didn’t love me. You never loved me! You loved money, and when I ran out you would have left as quickly as you came.”

Theo sneered. “And I thought the Flemming family would never run out of money.”

“Fuck you!” Miriam shrieked, her voice hurting even her own ears. “Fuck you! You lied to me! You never loved me, and you lied to me!”

“And you killed me!”

Miriam looked over at this man, this corpse in her bathroom. Solid though he was, real though he seemed, he was nothing compared to her. Because, as he said, she killed him, and she could do it again. “Then we’re even.”

Theo got up in her face then. She’d forgotten how tall he was, especially when she wasn’t wearing heels. Neither of them looked as put together as they had in pictures. Her, with her wet hair and red, vampiric eyes. Him with his pale parlor and bleeding wounds. A ghoul and a ghost. Even in death, they made a miserable pair. At least, now, they both realized how miserable they were.

“You killed my family,” he said quietly, almost confused. “Me? I can understand me. But my mother? My aunts and uncles and cousins? Gilly?” His voice cracked, and she looked away. Gilly was still recent on her own mind, though it had been months. “They’d cared for you. They didn’t know why I brought you into my life, just that we all benefited from it, and they’d liked you far more than your own damn family had liked me.”

“They all deserved to die,” Miriam said, shaking her head. “They all deserve to die. All of you. Every last, wretched witch.”

Theo looked like he was suffering, and she took a sick amount of pleasure in it, even if her stomach twisted. It was just like when she killed him the first time. “And, what, Miri? You gonna kill us all?”

“Yes,” she snarled. She shoved past him into her room, and he followed, leaving bloody footprints in the wake of her wet ones.

“You can’t. It’s not possible. You can’t even leave the damn town line.”

“Watch me, you bastard.” She dried off her hair. In a flurry, she started getting ready, even though she had hours before the sun sank below the horizon, yanking open drawers and pulling shirts off hangers. She laid her jacket out on the bed, and he walked over to it, fingers just barely grazing it. “Don’t touch.”

“Why not?” he asked. “It’s mine.”

“Not any more.” She proceeded to ignore him as she spent hours prepping. Eventually, she watched him die all over again, and she looked away, unwilling to watch.

She strutted out, passed Elle, and drove off without a word.

***

Miriam licked her lips and looked over her handy work.

Far from her first time, she wasn’t nearly as messy with the middle aged alchemist she had pinned to a barren tree by her hands, her skin flayed from muscle and her muscle flayed from bone. She hadn’t even gotten any of the blood on her. Good. 

She kept her face impassive, stared for as long as she could before the scene in front of her no longer looked real. It was a painting from the Renaissance, a monument in the Louvre. It was ghastly and horrifying, and it satisfied her.

She fed off the scene before her, its pain and misery, just as it fed from her. 

When she was done looking, she doused the tree in gasoline and lit it on fire. After all, she was a witch hunter. All good witch hunters knew that the best way to dispose of a witch was to burn them.

That’s what she’d done with what was left of Theo, all those years ago.

She’d stay until there was nothing but ashes left, and she tried to tell herself that the feeling in her chest was pride over another witch dead. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn to see a gathering of people ready to welcome another of their own to the other side. Theo was among them. Gilly, too. They both looked away from her. She looked away from them, as well.

[thejudgingtrash]

My unpopular opinion: Chiron is a horrible teacher, protector, whatever. He’s as bad dumbledor. He often manipulates children and put them in danger? Also is RR really trying to tell me not one single demigod from before percy’s generation made it to adulthood? Not even demigods of minor gods? If not then why haven’t we heard from them, why weren’t they called to fight in the war so that literal children didn’t have to? I have more but I’m not brave enough to post them lol

Fuck, I gotta check my asks more often. Too much stuff laying around and oh please people! Send your stuff in! Don’t be shy! It’s so interesting to see what’s on your mind! Let’s have that conversation and ask me!! :D I mean a bunch of people agreed and disagreed with my stances (Part 1/Part 2), let’s see how I feel about yours!

Anyway HERE WE GO BOYS! LET’S GO LESBIANS LET’S GO! 

LET’S HAVE THAT WHOLE DAMN ESSAY!

Chiron is clearly a self insert from Riordan. I mean come on…

That’s a solid Chiron if I see one. Which is pretty ironic as Chiron’s the shitty teacher who we all know and love. Got something to admit, Riordan? You as a former teacher? HMM?

Hiding incompetence under the disguise of the gentle old wise teacher is definitely something that Dumbledore and Chiron share. Chiron is the old centaur who lived for aeons and helped out the most famous heroes of their times, so shouldn’t modern times be considered to be an easier job for him? He’s barely present, highkey vague and has absolutely no problems with tossing children literally out into the open across the entire fucking US and A to clean the gods’ bathroom messes.

Had the heroes been in their 20s like in the original myths (or even older) it would’ve made more sense to let them find their own ways. It would be rude,  but somewhat okay. You could expect adults to find the way and connect the dots. But this is just messing with a bunch of 12 year olds because you can at this point.

Chiron is that supposed sweet teacher that just fucks up. We all had one, you know the one. Seems gentle and nice and but has clearly chosen the wrong job. Don’t know if that’s the trauma of living that long and/or seeing kids dying constantly that’s hitting him in the back of the head.

I have the feeling that people are projecting their teacher fantasies on to him just like step-father fantasies that include Paul. Because we want a guide who is trustworthy, we want an authoritative figure that we can share our concerns with and who guides us to solid solutions without betraying our trust.

But like I said, he’s essentially sending out kids to deathly missions and encouraging deep traumas. Yes, we can partially blame Chiron, but most of the blame goes to the gods who enable and encourage this weird dynamic. Would all of them straight up cut the bullshit and mostly resolve their own issues without using their children as pawns, it would’ve been easier for everyone involved. Additionally, there are many kids in camp to keep busy, look after and care for. I don’t know how many there were pre-TLO but I’d assume the number was in the hundreds? Of course, in larger cabins are camp counsellors that help out and guide next to camp schedules. But since Percy’s the only kid in the Poseidon cabin I guess that thought went south? Percy being the special kid would actually mean that there should be a focus on him unless you’re going for the “I’m neutral” spiel. Chiron knew from day one that Percy was walking Poseidon seed, come on.

Also like I somewhat implied, seeing people die left and right might have impacted Chiron to make him feel indifferent/despressed (could also be a stretch, who knows). Which isn’t an excuse, but might explain some takes. Explaining the same stuff for millennia in its essentials is probably getting tiring.

I think this is the third time that I mentioned it on my blog but showing and telling are the most powerful story telling concepts/fundamentals and you see Rowling and Riordan constantly failing at that which is concerning. Instead of Chiron (or Dumbledore) just simply getting down to the point and telling and explaining stuff briefly, he only eludes, vaguely formulates and it is simply confusing especially for a child in a brand new environment who just lost his mother (if we’re speaking about TLT). This does nothing but add more stress in such a fragile situation especially when a new and bigger threat makes its way.

There’s also the discussion on how much of Greek myth Percy actually gets. He has the basic/ obvious knowledge which many tend to forget. He doesn’t come in with no knowledge. He had Latin classes back at the academy, he studies with Annabeth, he knows some of the monsters. What he simply doesn’t know, is the magic of it all. That is the most confusing part for him.

The actual magic is not explained, which it doesn’t have to be in all of its entirety, but needs to be addressed somehow and gradually.

Percy asking a simple question like how the camp stays sunny and covered 24/7 and how the wardens work and Chiron casually sitting here like you a stoopid one

doesn’t help.

What many people forget: Magic doesn’t erase logic. Even in a magical setting, unless clearly stated, there has to be some kind of logic to connect the dots. It doesn’t need to be a clear cut A to B, but it should be comprehensible for both the readers and the characters in a particular situation. And that’s just not happening for Percy as the character. This also sets up the premise of Percy being ”stupid” which he isn’t. He is surrounded by incompetent teachers and staff that don’t bother telling him how things work and assume that he’ll just manage.

Yeah. Both Dumbledore and Chiron are awfulness in a sweet calm disguise.

Onto part two of the ask. I have had so many talks with people on that exact problem. It simply boils down to one issue:

Rick Riordan‘s inconsistency in world building and setting. The story telling doesn’t make any sense.

So kids are dying like flies before 18 but many are also super famous and in powerful positions? Many are historical figures that made it well over 18? Make that make sense. Also was WW2 supposed to be kicked off by some 12 year olds with that logic? The biggest man made catastrophe of the modern era boiled down to a bunch of fighting kids? No. We all know it. Just simply no. I actually don’t mind the WW2 background but Riordan should’ve given it another thought and be a bit more sensitive…? Like the whole fascist gang being team Hades? Uhh… sure…. nope.

Also the same logic applies to Civil War? You’re telling me a bunch of kids were supposed to have started this stance? Who was for and who was against slavery then? What in the actual fuck? Using children as child soldiers to stand in for these large complex historical issues that stretch over years and show many of humanity’s horrifying sides is just….eh.

No. This whole thing about campers dying as soon as they reach the magic number of 18 are either bedtime stories to scare the kids or toughen them up orrrr my guess, Riordan actually managed yet again to fuck up his own lore.

It’s the same logic with New Rome. You have a whole city full of adults but have a few kids run that bitch? You did your ten years of service as a child soldier and then do one of these?

As if adults magically exit this world. Like is that the reason why Percy’s been 17 for a whole damn decade? Because otherwise he gotta hand riptide in and all of the boys scout medals he has collected so far? Adults would’ve had the experience and expertise to win those fights but it would break the magic and charm of the books that a bunch of kids are saving the world for the younger demographic. Let’s do not forget that the targeted audience of the books are middle schoolers. Makes somewhat sense with PJO but with HOO Riordan really shot himself in the leg. He should’ve matured the OG characters at least.

(Also speaking about the actual myths again. A good chunk of them died in their 20s/30s/40s. Odysseus guided as an old man. The heroes weren’t twelve and dipping by the age of 16. The Trojan war went on for 10 years for example. So whereas the real Perseus lived a longer life and had a somewhat happy ending in comparison to his peers, he wasn’t the only one that made it into adulthood.)

Riordan mixing up his own lore is just a shame. Yes, it’s human and he already gets a lot of flag for other stuff. I also get it as a writer with my fanfic where I really have to scroll up to search tiny details that I’ve embedded and not noted down. Perhaps it’s my inner capitalist speaking, but for I’m way more forgiving towards a free product, a gift like a fanfic, rather than something I’ve paid actual money for when it comes to this. The process of publishing a book is large. You mean to tell me that there was no editor at Disney that bothered to fact check? Riordan got a check from us all and doesn’t even bother looking up his own stuff. A little bit more effort, Ricardo. Please. You have an entire damn wiki you could use to check for free if you’re too lazy to read your own books/don’t use authors softwares. Like what?

It’s stupid. You know it, I know it. And as you can see, I fully agree with you.

[berrymeter]

hi everyone this is my first fic be nice to me <3

in which y/n gets to bully mark tuan for free - somewhere over 1k words

It’s getting a little late, isn’t it ? You check your watch— just kidding, you don’t have one. What year is it, 2006 ? Don’t make me laugh. Rather than a clock bracelet conveniently placed around your wrist you lower your eyes to the bottom right corner of your laptop to confirm your suspicions… Ah, yes, the passage of time. You spent the entire damn afternoon scrolling through social media like some kind of zoomer-millennial-loser, again. (Chances are you’re one.) Still that doesn’t negate the fact that it is assuredly late now ; shouldn’t that passive aggressive twink-passing dude be back by now ?

Okay, it’s not that late. Just about time for dinner, the good ol’ almost-nine in the evening. Realistically you shouldn’t be complaining, you never actually have dinner with your problematic roommate nor do you eat dinner at an appropriate time yourself, but you open your notes app nonetheless and add another bullet point to your list: “Things I Get To Throw In His Face When We Have An Argument”. Build up your arsenal and release it all when the time is right, that’ll show him. An exaggerated sigh escapes your lips. Is it so hard to be punctual, after all ? He told you he’d be back by eight ! You’d planned to watch a movie together ! Not that it ever amounted to anything since an argument always broke out mid-film, but plans were nice every once in a while. You bite your bottom lip in annoyance, zoning out for a brief few seconds ( minutes ? Are you aware of time ? I’m not) as your eyes lose focus over the screen emitting all that nasty blue light, before deciding to just brush it off – at the very least, until he gets there. Once the door opens, it’s on. Some more scrolling and it gets you thinking, since your brain doesn’t have much better to do while he’s not here to get his ass jumped by you. You think. You think about how you referred to him as a “twink-passing” dude just a few paragraphs earlier. (You are currently in the mind of the narrator. I get to be y/n.) Why so ? Well, very simply, a twink would refer to a man who engages in romantic relationships with other men, or would at least be willing to. You’re unsure whether he would consider it. He sure looks like you could snap him like a twig though, so you call him a twink anyway. What’s he going to do ? Punch your kneecaps ? (Even if you are short, I, the writer, am shorter than you. I am offering you the ability to be taller than Mark Tuan. Use it wisely.) You think a little further, and think of how ‘twink’ has been used so many times as a joke, like it’s a funny insult. Is it right ? Are we not taking the term seriously enough ? You drop that train of thought soon enough. It doesn’t matter: twinks should be bullied. What convinced you of this is that twink from that NCT group, the one with the monosyllabic name. You nod to yourself. Yes, twinks should undeniably be bullied. (Note that I am a twink too, it’s okay, relax, I’m not calling for twink oppression. I mean I kinda am actually tho.) Within a few more seconds, your eyelids start to slip shut. Ah… What was that about the zoomer-millennial-loser thing ? You know it’s not easy these days to be productive, to find things you enjoy when you’re not in the right headspace, and being in the right headspace is not easy itself either. Work is tiring. You need those bucks, though. You struggle to work and then on your day off you scroll through social media. It doesn’t actually make you a loser, does it ? That’s what the bitter older generations will try to feed you, but it’s all wrong. You’re just living. Yes, you are. I’m proud of you. You made it this far ! Keep scrolling. Maybe get off Twitter though, that’s not how you’re going to make yourself feel any better in any capacity, unless your thing is pissing off ARMYs and getting terminated within the hour… The door unlocks. Your mind snaps back in. Wow, gee, at least you managed to pass time ! And it’s… yikes, you probably dozed off too during that time, because it’s past ten. An offended frown graces your features as you turn to look at that little bastard, that short fucking stick, that— “ Wha ! ” You get hit in the face with a purse… Damn, gay ass, he’s carrying a purse around now ? Wait, hold on. Why the fuck— “ Why the fuck did you do that ? ” you exclaim as you throw the purse aside. The devil’s looking at you with that passive aggressive smile of his on his face. Sickening. “ I heard what you said about Virgo men the other day, ” he responds, his voice barely hiding the pent up anger, “ and that wasn’t really nice, (y/n). We actually shower, you know ? ” “ Yeah, well, you’re gonna need to prove that, bitch boy. ” He grabs his keys and throws them in your face. Ouch, hey ! “ Stop that ! I wasn’t even lying, I— " His hand goes through his pocket while you speak and this time his phone hits your head. It’s enough. Quickly you stand, pushing your laptop aside and throwing the phone right back in his face… but it’s too late. He’s seen it. Your laptop. He gets a flash from the past ; years ago, when he was just a young Virgo man navigating this cruel world, although the world was at his fingertips by virtue of being a FUCKING Virgo man (tells you a lot about why the world is cruel), back when he met that so, so young Taurus boy, and he grabbed his laptop… You notice his glare. Your eyes narrow, and before you can yell out “No” he’s leaping for your laptop, grabbing it and holding onto it tight as you try to pry it from his hands. “ Let it go or I’m calling Jaybee ! “ the words shoot right out of your mouth. “ You think I’m scared of that catboy ? He showers even less than me ! ” “ Did you just admit to not showering ? Fucking nasty ! Go shower, stinky ! ” He roars in response, but it’s really embarrassing because he’s not a lion in any way, shape or form. He is, fortunately, very much human. You move your foot to rest it on his back (picture it: he’s on his stomach, across the couch, holding onto your laptop. So it is possible for you to rest your foot on his back). You put a little pressure on it, and his back cracks a little ; he goes “Ouch, fuck !”, and releases his grip. Yes, good, the laptop is yours (you knew that but I mean it’s in your hands again, don’t be annoying). Once again you put it aside – he uses that time to straighten himself up a little – but you have no mercy. You rush to the fridge as he follows suit, grab the bottle of milk, open it and throw it in his face. “ Jesus Christ, dude ! ” he yells out, completely inconsiderate of whether or not you’d like to be addressed as such. Don’t forget: as hot as he may be, he is a Virgo man. He does not care about you. Stop loving him right now. “ Guess you’re gonna have to shower for real this time, ” you comment, the satisfaction of this battle you just won seeping through your words. “ Fucking loser, lmao. ” “ Fuck you, (y/n). ” “ You look stupid as hell right now. Boo! Take a shower, you and your crusty musty ass ! That’s what you get for making me wait two hours ! You can’t even find the beat though, I guess you couldn’t find where to read the time on your phone. ” The court jester known as Mark Tuan proceeds to exit the scene under these humiliating claims, wiping some of the milk off his face with his milk-drenched shirt. “ Ew, ” is what you have to say to that. “ I beg you to shut your mouth right now, ” he responds from the bathroom.

But you don’t shut up. You’ve got your list, after all. You come closer to the bathroom door and lean against it, opening your handy dandy notes app – it's actually a Drive file so you can open it both on your laptop and your phone, handy dandy ! – and beginning to go through it all. " You remember when we moved in together and you stubbed your toe ? You thought I wouldn't notice how you blamed me for stubbing your toe on YOUR table that I hadn't even touched, and just casually didn't do any chores the next week ? Or the time I asked you to not touch my food and you went and ate all of it without even thinking about it, the time you threw my phone away because you thought it was too old and cheap to still be used by someone... Or worst of all, the time you said Zuko wasn't a 'compelling' or 'well-written' character, and that you found the Joker much more relatable... " " Go away ! " He kind of sounds like a child, not as in cute but as in immature for a grown ass man, and next thing you hear is the sound of rushing water. He's actually showering ? Damn, guess all that bullying paid off at the end of the day ! You smile to yourself but in an evil way. “ What a fucking embarrassing manlet lol, “ you mutter to yourself. Your job here is done (for now). All is well in the world. You go sit back on the couch, grab your laptop again, and browse AO3 for self-insert fics where you help Jinyoung and Jaebum hide their relationship by being Jinyoung’s beard. No way you’d get that close to Jaebum even in the dreamscape ; Mark was kinda right about him not showering…

[kaijurakunsobs]

Mr. Malum

master list for this series

this took me far too long to complete, I keep getting sidetracked with other stuff...I need to work on a schedule, that I will ignore, cuz I have the attention span of a boiled rock.

this chapter has a different name due to the song Mr. Malum from the Dear Hunter, being the only thing I would think of while typing this chapter

Summary: Heisenberg has a secret that he clearly intends on keeping for himself but honoring your own word of not working for him unless you know what's going on with his factory, you offer him a deal that could benefit you both. A trip to the village, distrust dripping for these people's faces, and the whispers filled with fear is enough for you to learn that...Mr. Heisenberg and the other Lords are more than what they seem.

"Rise and shine, sweetheart! we have a lot of work to do today" Heisenberg screams, throwing the door of your room open, making you sit and scream in surprise, the sound of his laughter is enough to cut your fear short and replace it with humiliation.

Before you can even respond the man is out and waiting in the kitchen, at least, he gave you time to compose yourself, running your fingers through your tangled hair and cursing yourself for going to sleep with damp hair, the tossing and turning did nothing to help, making the rat's nest that's your hair so much worst. Perhaps you should consider cutting it short, that would make it more manageable.

Joining him in the kitchen it's strange, half hoping to be met with his usual snark, instead, he's drinking coffee and looking over some papers, another mug has been placed on the table, the acrid smell of black coffee incites you to get close and take the warm mug in your hands, the taste is strong and it's enough to fully wake you up.

"We are going to be working on the west wing, some of the vents have been giving problems which is making the place overheat" a blueprint it's pushed towards you, the areas to be inspected are circled with red pen. "Since you are a lot slimmer, you will be getting into some hard to access places, keep the print, that way you will know what to fix"

Looking down at the print, you contemplate your situation.

It's, quite clear, that you can't escape, he said so yesterday, talking about the possibility of Miranda killing you or him catching you before she did. You can't refuse to work for him either, even after you told him you wouldn't do it until you knew what was going on in the factory, and it seems he decided to politely forget about that part of the conversation. There's no way out of this...but there's a way to try and twist his arm.

After all, you are not stuck here with him, he's stuck in here with you.

Putting down the mug, taking a moment to stretch your back and casually take a seat across from him "Yeah, this? sounds like a you problem" resting your head on your hands gives you the right amount of time to see him go from triumphant into anger "However! I'm willing to strike you a deal"

Father was a man who cared for his employees and sometimes caring for others means being, rather, unfair with those seeking to start a partnership, or so he said. "You have to assess how desperate you are when they come looking for you, but never push too hard on your luck, or you might lose the perfect cath, ask for realistic demands never for the Sun", those were his words, and you will be forever grateful for them.

" A deal?" leaning closer to you he looks at you from above his shades, a mocking smile on his face "What kind of deal are you offering? you have nothing to offer and I have everything you could want"

"Oh! but I do have a lot to offer, years of experience as a mechanic, the promise of optimizing your production rate, my family's factory for you to dismantle and get spare parts from...my silence?"

At that, he straightens up, face unreadable and impassive, hes thinking and considering. And you know it by watching him light up a cigar slowly, taking a couple of drags before expelling a large smoke cloud up to the ceiling. "I'm listening"

"Excellent, my demands are easy to meet, so don't worry" with careful movements you get up from the chair, unhurried steps carrying to stand behind him, snaking your hands up his arms and towards his shoulders, bending down to place your head close to his "All I ask from you is this, fitting clothes, a pair of gloves like yours and a leather apron, an actual bed, for you to repair the hot water, and have my own set of tools" you smile sweetly at him letting your right hand play with his hair "See? nothing too hard to get"

He's impressed with your boldness, not fearing getting your pretty hand burned with his cigar and pressing that delicious body of yours so close to him. And, indeed, your demands are nothing but reasonable compared to the blind devotion and absolute silence he's expecting from you, let alone, access to whatever is left from your factory.

The next time he expels smoke he does it in your direction, getting no reaction of you "And how do I know that you won't try and rat me out, doll? just trust your word and give you everything you want? I think I'll pass and just force you to do it"

"Well, I understand, it doesn't matter that I'm a woman of my word, words can be twisted and forgotten, sir. But...if you don't feel comfortable with a verbal agreement"

Your next move is not just bold, and you know it, you are weaponizing your own body, using it to make him lower his guard a little. Letting go of his shoulder to sit on his lap, back towards him, taking your sweet time to grab one of the paper sheets where he was jolting down notes and his pen. "We can do a contract if you prefer, that way I will be legally bound to do whatever it says and since you are a Lord, it will be just a formality"

There's a moment where you feel like gagging when his hands find your hips and push you to be closer to his body, it's his time to rest his head on your shoulder, looking at whatever you plan on writing down.

"Then do it, darlin'. Do your silly contract, which I expect you to abide by because I will do my part if that means I get to have you like this always"

"Of course, my Lord"

Immediately after you start writing down a rather simple contract, making sure to write everything you want and what you will be giving in return. The whole time he stays still, occasionally moving his head to blow the smoke away for you or the table in general, one hand squeezing your hip.

You are careful when offering the pen for him to sign the paper, tactfully placing your hand as to obscure a piece of the pact, he either doesn't care or thinks you are doing it to prevent the paper from slipping and messing his signature. Once he's done you sign quickly, smiling inwardly at your victory.

"Let me read this you" clearing your throat you begin to speak clearly and loud "I, Lord Karl Heisenberg, in full use of my mental capabilities, promise Miss Y/N L/N, to fulfill the following...One, provide her with proper clothing, which shall include a leather apron, heavy-duty gloves, and boots...Two, a bed and blankets for her to sleep in, making sure to place the bed in her bedroom...Three, acquire a new complete toolset for her...Four, repair the faulty got water pipe in the bathroom..."

The pause is done on purpose, looking at him over your shoulder to see his shit-eating grin morph into either confusion or anger "FIVE...make sure the kitchen is well stocked with all kinds of food, to ensure proper nourishment for my employee. The employee won't be expected to cook meals for me"

The hand on your hip shoots up to grab your neck, forcing you to be fully against him, his breath fans over the side of your face as he speaks "You little bitch, who do you think you are trying to swindle? you asked for four things, not five"

"Did I? I don't remember saying just four, sir...that's why contracts are so useful you see, after all, words can be twisted and forgotten" there's a small adrenaline rush when he growls so close to you, that you can feel the vibrations against your chest, almost crying out with joy when he let you go, clearly annoyed with your small victory.

"Fine, if that's the case!" his rudeness comes back with a vengeance when he pulls you off, doing quick work of walking to his room "Stay where you are" after that, only the distant lull of the machines can be heard, then there's the sound of his voice, almost whispering and growing slowly irritated by the second. It takes him a couple of minutes but he comes backs, dropping a bag full of money on the table.

"Since you are so hellbent on these demands of yours...and I have so much to do, for the foreseeable future, YOU are going down to the village, look for and get the seamstress to take your measurements, YOU are going to the Duke and buy whatever food we might need and tell him what tools you need, YOU are bringing said groceries from his Emporium all the way here, after all, your contract says I have to provide with clothing, food and put a bed in your toom, which means, it's YOUR responsibility to buy and transport the food while all I have to do is provide you with the money"

He got you...and he got you good, that's why making detailed contracts is always important, or you leave legal windows for the other party.

"Or...I can do all that for you, minus the clothes, if you sleep in my bed from now" his smile is wolfish and nasty, eyeing you the same way a starving dog would look at a defenseless chicken, it makes you question your flirting tactics from earlier, but you won't let him win.

"Well, you are right, I never said you needed to bring the groceries here" quickly you snatch the money from the table, getting up and walking to the door as if he didn't say anything about sharing his bed "I shall take my leave and come back before lunch, have a good day, sir!"

The door opens and with a side glance, you take his coat from the hook on the wall, scurrying off before he can say or do anything about it, almost bolting through the factory into the main entrance, afraid he will catch up with you and send you out into the freezing weather with nothing to shield you from it.

The trek down into the Village is something terrible, the terrain is irregular and some of the cobblestone steps are loose, trying to make a mental note of anything that might make you trip on your way back becomes a game, occasionally kicking some of the stones away and praying that you might now slip and fall.

You only stop to look at the 4 statues located past the bridge, taking a bit to admire the enormous things, their rotten features that have been consumed by the elements, and the weather, there's a pedestal of some sort in the middle but nothing else, following the path you find yourself looking at the Duke, slowly dozing off sitting inside his cart and his merchandise im plain view. The sound of your boots against the floor and snow, alert him of your presence.

"Ah! but it isn't our lovely Y/N, did Lord Heisenberg sent you for something, or are you here to acquire something for yourself?" hes already rubbing his hands together looking at you with interest

"You know me so well! I do come to run some...errands...Heisenberg set me to find the seamstress and to get groceries, his entire kitchen is empty, also, to place an order for me!"

The man laughs at your expression filled with pride, trying to uncover what or how you managed to get out of the factory on your second day there, smiling approvingly at whatever trick you used. "Of course, of course! tell me more about your shopping needs and I shall have them covered in no time"

"Oh, I wanted to know if I could write you a list and come back for the groceries on my way back?"

"Whatever you might need, miss Y/N" He's quick into offering you a pen and notepad, remarking the importance of treating all his customers with great care, and prideful of his service.

It takes you a bit to write down everything the kitchen lacks off and placing the order for your tools, gloves, and boots your size, acting a bit selfish by asking him to get you soap. The Duke reassures you that he will have your order as soon as possible and your groceries packed by the time you come back.

"Before I leave, by any chance do you know where I can find the seamstress? Heisenberg sent me out and told me to ask around...the prick"

"I do, it's an easy trip just go through that door and walk until you see the Maiden of War, a statue of a woman with a sword, easy to see! from it go west into the village and look for a house with teal walls, or simply ask for Sabina's house, but be careful Y/N, the people there might not take kindly to your presence"

The Duke was right, as soon as you enter the village, people start to stare and talk in low voices as you walk past them, you can hear them call you "Lord Heisenberg's bride" which makes you scrunch up your nose, others are more concerned of your status as an outsider and the small group of people praising Mother Miranda for giving you a home in this place. At the mention of her name, you have to force down the taste of vile down your throat and keep on walking to Sabina's place.

The house is easy to spot in the sea of gloomy colors, the teal exterior pops like a sore thumb, it's clear the house has seen better days, but you are no one to comment on the current state of the place, limiting yourself to knock on the door and wait for a response.

Sabina is, probably, no older than you, but the expression lines and tiredness of her face make her look a lot older, as soon as she sees you, she ushers you inside, eyes glued to the floor and speaking softly...she's scared of you.

"I was asked by Lord Heisenberg to come, he told me..."

"YES! I...I was made aware of your need for clothes and something like an apron, I received a call from the Chruch and expected you a bit earlier, now im afraid this order might be too hurried" fear masked as anger, you know about that, that's the only thing you have felt lately "please strip down so I can properly measure you"

The woman moves quickly, retrieving her tape and something to write on, while you are shedding the coat, pants, and boots off, leaving only the shirt on.

When she comes back you see her grimace and reach out for the shirt, out of instinct you slap her hand away, the terror in her eyes growing and becoming a burden that makes her freeze in her spot, making you feel a bit of guilt for causing her to do that face. "...Im sorry, I don't feel comfortable with people seeing me in my underwear"

Sabina only nods, trembling hands reaching out to start the process of taking every measurement required to make your new clothes, taking a second you jolt down each number and asking you what kind of fabric you would like for the pants and shirts, if the apron will need pockets and how many, any special requirements she should be aware of.

"Cotton undershirts" you blur out, avoiding to look at Sabina "I...need undershirts that are of a soft material" unconsciously reaching to touch your left side, the woman seems to understand, adding the undershirts to the list.

"I will have everything in the next four days if that's ok with the Lady, if not, I could have it done by tomorrow morning"

"No...four days is ok, how much do I owe you?" you ask absent-mindedly, dressing quickly to avoid losing any more body heat.

Sabina, who was halfway through putting her take away, stops to look at you, an uncomfortable expression on her face followed by a forced smile "I'm just pleased to serve the Heisenberg house, my lady"

You begin to protest but Sabina starts to push you out of the door, talking over you loudly, repeating like crazy how honored she feels, and for you to have a nice day, slamming her door shut and leaving you confused out in the snow.

This time, people avoid you, ducking their heads down, bowling lightly, and muttering praises to have someone from the Heisenberg house come to the village, but all of them speak with reverence, terrified of your existence. Miranda made you feel like a thing and these people make you feel like if you could kill them where they stand any minute now, like you are above them and more important. It's disgusting.

"Did you had a good time with the villagers, miss Y/N?"

"No!? Duke, it was horrible, the way people looked at me like if I was either a God or the Devil himself, it gave me your creeps" you are so lost looking at the crates, sacks, and bags that you have to carry back, that you don't notice him twistedly smile at you "What is wrong with these people?"

"We all need to believe in something, this village, just happens to believe in the protection and love of Mother Miranda and her lords and ladies, divine beings on Earth, but you might be right, perhaps it's not a godly figure what they're chasing after, but the devil" this time you do see him smile, the jolly man from last night is gone, replaced by a being of mischief and secrets that makes your skin crawl.

Hurriedly you pick up everything and balance it all in your arms, finding a way to trust the bag full of lei into his waiting hands and bolt it back into the fabric, distantly hearing him laugh over the sound of your pounding heart.

You only stop right in the middle of all the four statues you saw that morning, uneasiness nestling inside you...just what is going here? what are the lords of this place and why is everyone so panicked by them? why would anyone feel love for a monster like Miranda?

Wondering, if you did the right thing by making a deal with Heisenberg, knowing, he might be the devil incarnate.

[kitanoko]

In which the doctor meets his match Part 4!!

Note: I haven’t updated this since Sept 2018....y’all thought you seen the last of me HAHA. Finally, things are building up ....... shinsou is also going to meet todoroki EVENTUALLY ~

Read Part 1 here

Read Part 2 here

Read Part 3 here

Warm.

That was the only thing Yaoyorozu could think of when he shook her hands and laid a gaze that lingered on her luscious, mascara-coated lashes a second too long. She unknowingly scratched little circles on the hardcover of her lacquered folder when she looked up and saw the way he’d run his hand through his hair as the two walked out of the meeting room.

It was habit that she had come to notice Todoroki would do whenever he was about to say something but hesistates. A feeling stirred inside her and her arm tensed. It was definitely Aizawa sensei’s fault for making the atmosphere so….strange now, Yaoyorozu thought. She’s going to his office straight away after to demand an explanation!

The receptionist immediately dropped whatever she was doing when the two closed the meeting door, her eyes directing at the white and red haired man. Yaoyorozu knew the receptionist was checking the doctor out and she rolled her eyes.

The elevator slid open after a short while and Todoroki waved a goodbye. He entered, hands naturally smoothing out the bottom of his suit, and pressed the door to ground floor. Yaoyorozu, catching his teeny smile the second before the door fully closed, mirrored his gesture and hugged the newly signed contract to her chest even more as if protecting it.

Yaoyorozu had agreed to conduct a site visit this Saturday (which was sort of silly since she could go to his clinic right now if she wanted to) and cradled the papers in her hand even closer to her heart.

“So he signed?” A voice rose behind her with a teasing tone and she turned to see Aizawa crossing his arms, shifting his body weight on the wall beside him. The smirk that had formed on his face wrinkled his jaw. Yaoyorozu huffed, making sure to be conspicuously annoyed.

“Yes he did sensei…but I cannot believe you! You came in and made it so awkward!”

Aizawa’s smirk did not fade. “I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t like Shinsou.”

At the mention of their rival’s name, Yaoyorozu scrunched her nose. She playfully slapped her mentor’s arm, a tint of pink highlighting her cheeks, and huffed again, earning her a light chuckle from the man.

Just three weeks ago, the aforementioned Shinsou showed up at their doorstep, asking to speak with her. Yaoyorozu was slightly weary –after all, they have never worked together before (and he’d always convince her to quit Erase) but figured if he was coming for an alleged business opportunity, she’d better hold onto the chance. The potential client was a millionaire who wanted to design a chain of malls he had just acquired. Shinsou, being the sole designer in his growing firm, decided to seek help from Erase. Yaoyorozu respected his humbleness and ambition and so had agreed to meet him.

Their discussion was great and from it she learnt a lot about Shinsou’s character. He was overall quite quiet, lips always in a thin line, and hair always disheveled (reminded her a lot of Aizawa to be frank). It was hard reading his expressions. Despite this, deep down, Yaoyorozu knew Shinsou’s passion for design shown through his work. The way he’d use his words to paint a beautiful picture of the planned end product was admirable. Yaoyorozu decided that Shinsou was no doubt a talent that she could learn from. Unfortunately, the deal busted and so they had to terminate the contract. Aizawa began to tease her about Shinsou ever since; he suspected there was something ‘blossoming’ between them but of course Yaoyorozu would scoff every time.

It had bothered her however. Recalling that every time Shinsou had come, Aizawa and the former would always politely greet each other but something about the conversations between them had displayed a familiarity between the two. Yaoyorozu never asked but she had a feeling they had known each other for a long time.

“….I knew you’d bring it up.” Yaoyorozu said, walking beside her mentor.

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s getting phone calls from that guy still.”

“Shinsou and I are STRICTLY business. ONLY.” She emphasized, raising her index finger. Yaoyorozu had met Shinsou for dinner once (on friendly terms) but she wasn’t going to let anyone know that other than her best friends. Aizawa shrugged.

“There’s no conflict of interest by the way, just looking out for my favourite student!”

“Oh please…curl back up in your worm suit and take a nap to rewire your mind.” Yaoyorozu stuck her tongue out childishly at her mentor and took a step towards her desk. She sat down and kicked off her heels and changed to her Tory Burch flats. “Feel free to ask admin to stock up on the white chip macademia cookies in the pantry, I may need some sugar for the weekend.”

Aizawa saw the spark in her eyes. “Sure, you got it,” he said and left.

Yaoyorozu licked her bottom lip and stretched, curling her toes inside her shoes. Cracking her knuckles, she straightened herself in her ergonomic chair.

The designer was starting this project with a bang.

~~

“So?” Kendou asked. She walked over to the table next to the couch to stack the Elle magazines back into a neat pile. “The designer’s going to come in on Saturday, when?”

The sun was setting, casting shadows over Kendou’s perfect bright ponytail and the streets were beginning to fill with crowds of the after-work drinking group. There were quite a few hang out dens  around this area which was something that benefitted Todoroki. He’d often meet up with his longtime friends after his shift.

Todoroki cracked his neck and leaned over the counter with a mug in hand. He was now back in his suit which had cracked Kendou right up because of their contrast. She was wearing an Ivy Park tank with leggings while he looked like he was ready to hit up a gala.

“She’s free any time but I told her to come at 3 since we’d be done by then.”

“Okay, sounds good. Any idea what it’s gonna look like after?”

“It’ll be traditional Japanese-inspired, something I’ve thought about since before our latest renovation.”

“Which may I remind you was only a year ago.”

“Right.”

Kendou cocked a brow, strolling back the other way to grab the purse locked under the front desk. “So what made you suddenly feel like we needed a makeover again? I don’t think we ever got to that.”

The doctor took a sip of his drink, avoiding eye contact.

“There’s never a bad time to make our patients feel at home you know.”

That answer was awfully suspect but Kendou knew there was no point in interrogating the doctor about it. The clinic is his after all and no one but him would know how he wanted to envision the place.

The girl looped her arm through the handles of her canvas bag. “May I also remind you that I doubt anyone’s homes look like a ryokan except for yours?”

Todoroki gave a chuckle, lips resting to a small smile. He looked almost proud. “Yes of course. I guess I wanted to make sure the patients feel like they’re at my home, alright?”

Kendou laughed. “Making jokes now are we? You’re in a chipper mood, doctor. I’m heading out. Tetstutetsu and I are getting yakitori so I’ll see ya tomorrow!”

“See ya.”

With that the orange haired girl hopped out of the clinic with a skip in her steps.

Todoroki’s shoulders slumped a little when he turned his gaze back to the front desk. His eyes landed on a nearby medical poster and he curled his fingers around his mug once more. The office was silent except for the bustle of people’s laughter and chitter seeping through the door and he casually strolled over to switch off all the lights on his right.

The phone beside the mug began to shake and vibrate, then ‘X gon give it to ya’ started booming from it. Todoroki’s brow twitched a little seeing his screen brightening.

It was Bakugou.

“Yea?” Todoroki answered in a monotone voice, lifting his phone to his ear, “What’s up.”

“I hate hearing your voice too, half-n-half,” Bakugou grunted.

Todoroki exhaled a little, chuckling, “Need me for something?”

“No..well yes. But no, not me. Harry Potter says he’s planning a surprise party for his girlfriend uh…you know, what’s her face. Purple hair girl. He wanna check if ya can come with. I don’t wanna go but I will just because I’m feeling generous.”

“What a sacrifice,” Todoroki retorted, pressing the phone between his ear and shoulder, “When is it?”

“This Saturday.”

Todoroki thought for a bit. If Yaoyorozu came around 3:30, he’d be able to make it.

“Sure.” The doctor grabbed his mug and swallowed the last drop of Milo, “Who’s going and when’d you become Kaminari’s secretary.”

Bakugou cursed into the phone. “Fcking bitch is having a panic attack about his cake or whatever that sludge he’s baking. Fcking even gave him the recipe and helped him with most of it and he can’t even squeeze icing properly.”

“You? Baking?” Todoroki said incredulously, “Never thought I’d see the day when you’d bake.”

“For your record, I can fcking C O O K.”

“Yea, I definitely know now.”

Todoroki heard a weensy bit of Kaminari’s whining at the back and Bakugou grunted again.

“Bring some peeps if you want, the dolt over there wanna fill up the apartment, though it shouldn’t be that fcking hard since it’s a two by two square.”

Todoroki gave a half-hearted hum. “I’ll think about it. But tell him I’ll be there.”

“K, bye.” And with that Bakugou hung up. Todoroki stuffed the phone back into his pocket. Walking to the bathroom, Todoroki rinsed his mug in the sink. His reflection caught his attention, seeing his Tom Ford suit reminded him of Erase.

Yaoyorozu.

He eyed the ceiling a bit and back to the mirror in front of him. Fixing his collar with a tug, a thought sprang like ripples on water.

He wondered, would it be crazy to invite her to Jirou’s party?

~~

“JIROU, IM GOING TO PLAY THE MOVIE!!” Ashido’s shrill voice startled Yaoyorozu and the latter quickly turned to her friend.

“We have ears you know.”

Ashido gave a small ‘hehe’ and Jirou snarled at her when she appeared behind the couch. “And some of us have REALLY sensitive hearing.”

“Sorry, just making sure you don’t miss anything. I love this movie!”

The three were chilling together in Yaoyorozu’s house with fuzzy pyjamas and slippers. The fleece blanket that Yaoyorozu so adored fell across Ashido’s lap and Jirou plopped a bowl of popcorn overloaded with butter between them.

“Extra extra greasy?” Ashido said as she stuffed a bunch of popcorn in her mouth and Jirou repeated after her.

“Yes, extra extra greasy. I’m scared for all our arteries.”

“Just do 3 laps tomorrow and you’ll burn it all out.”

This was the designer’s usual entertainment, her friends’ constant bickering.

“….or we could ask Dr. Todoroki for some advice.”

At his name, Yaoyorozu coughed out half-chewed kernels, eyes watering. Jirou quickly handed her water, though her hands were shaking from laughing at Yaoyorozu’s immediate reaction.

“Oh, so now we can’t even MENTION his name?” Ashido guffawed, kicking her legs up and down as the movie’s opening song began to fill the air.

Yaoyorozu squinted her eyes. “I’m going to kick you guys out if you keep at it.”

“Ashido started it!”

“No I didn’t! WAIT SHH the movie!”

Jirou tottered her legs on the couch for a bit as Shrek 2 began and stood up, “Wait can you pause, I have to go washroom.”

The pink-haired girl flicked a popcorn at her and licked her fingers before reaching for the remote. “Ugh why didn’t you go earlier. Fine, we’ll wait.”

When they heard Jirou slide the door to a close, Ashido quickly leaned over to the designer who was leisurely skimming through ASOS.

“Ohh! That top’s really cute Yaomomo! But wait I need to tell you something.”

Yaoyorozu reeled over at her friend who was acting suspicious as if she had a secret and put down her phone.

“What is it?” She asked confounded.

“Kaminari and I are planning Jirou’s surprise Birthday, it’s going to be Saturday.”

“Oh sounds fun! Where?”

“It’ll be at his place, can you bring some snacks?”

Yaoyorozu grinned, “Of course I can. Anything else you guys need help with?”

Ashido twirled at lock of hair playfully. “Nope I think we’re all good. Show up at 7, we’ll all hide and wait for Kami to bring her in.“

“I have a client to see right before but I should be there on time.”

Seeing the way her friends’ eyes glistened, Yaoyorozu could tell she knew who ‘the client’ was.

“Oh…come on, bring the doctor.”

“What! I’ve only talked to him twice. That’s absurd. He would think I’m interested in him.”

“Hey, all relationships starts off with friendship of some degree. Fine, bring Shinsou then.”

Yaoyorozu rolled her eyes, “No and no.”

“Aww…come on…we need some hotties in the room, well other than us of course.” Ashido burst out giggling at her own humour, “I did hear that Kaminari’s bringing a bunch of his friends over so it’ll be sooo much fun, I can’t ---“

“WAIT..she’s back!” Yaoyorozu whispered and the two girls quickly retrograded to their previous positions. Jirou walked in, not suspecting a thing.

“So ready for some Shrek?” Ashido asked, reaching out for the glass of lemonade slicked with condensation. It was a good thing Yaoyorozu and her had fast reflexes.

Jirou jumped back onto the couch, “Yup, ya betcha!”

~~

Watching her work so precisely and meticulously, he found himself feeling as though he was intruding. Yaoyorozu was prisoned in focus – perhaps in her own world where nothing mattered except to make her designs come to life.

The doctor was curious, careful eyes admiring how she’d measure every obscure thing in his office. Every angle should direct the audience to a certain highlight, Yaoyorozu had explained. He just nodded as if he understood.

Todoroki made sure to give her enough space so she can do her work.

“Mm, maybe if I put that over here…” The designer muttered to herself, tapping her chin. Forming dialogues in her head while working was a habit of hers.

Todoroki noticed Kendou mindlessly wiping her computer monitor, but the receptionist’s gaze was towards the designer.

“If you keep that up, your monitor’s going to break.”

Kendou snapped out of it and smiled sheepishly.

“It’s after hours, you can go you know.”

“Oh I know,” Kendou said, now directing her gaze at him. She walked closer and whispered, hand cupping her mouth slightly. “I remember her now. She’s gorgeous, I can’t believe she’s so talented as well. Ugh, look at her dress, I want that sense of fashion.”

Todoroki shifted his attention to the designer. Yaoyorozu was donning a tight crew neck black top with an A-line skirt painted with bright patterns. Her hair was up in her usual pony tail though it looked curlier than usual. Large round hoops hung on her ears, glinting gold, while the watch she had on was one with classic black leather straps.

“Hm.” Was all Todoroki said.

Kendou huffed. “Oh you boys don’t know what fashion is.”

The doctor ignored her snarky comment, hands shoved back into his pockets and began to walk over to the woman who was now packing up her materials.

“So, I assume everything’s done?”

Yaoyorozu swiveled around, finding herself staring into gunmetal and cyan. His minty breath too close.

“Um---“She ended up stuttering, taking a step back, “Yes, almost! I’ve got what I need for the most part, I will be coming back quite often however. What’s your schedule? I’d suggest 2 months of closure so by mid-October at the latest?”

“That sounds good.”

The clock on the wall read exactly 5 p.m. and the designer found herself feeling relieved. Plenty of time for her to go back home and freshen up before the party. Kendou was now waving her goodbyes and heading out, leaving the two lost for words at each other’s company.

Todoroki rested a hand on his neck, scratching the area right around the nape and exhaled.

“Are you busy tonight?”

The woman puckered her lip.

“Tonight? I have plans with my friends.”

“…I see.” His chest sank, though keeping his voice light. Nonetheless the woman could sense the disappointment.

“Is there something you wanted to do? If you want to talk about the project, I’d be happy to discuss.”

Todoroki shook his head, the little pieces of white hair hanging right between his brows. “It’s nothing.”

“Oh.”

Things went quiet between them again. The rustle of Yaoyorozu’s purse that squished between her arm was the only distraction before the designer decided to head off.

“Thanks, I’ll see you—“

“Soon.” He finished for her in haste and meekly smiled at his outward response. Yaoyorozu reciprocated the gesture before the phone in her purse began to vibrate.

“Sorry I have to take this.” The woman said, pushing open the door. She added cheerily, “Bye doctor!” With a wink she left, the last sound of her heels’ clicking echoing away.

Though he was slightly disgruntled at his failed attempt to invite her to Jirou’s party, Todoroki’s heart skipped a beat. Not that it was his first time hearing anyone call him doctor. But what was it that made her saying it so….enticing?

[artificialqueens]

Nostalgia, Part 3 (Rujubee) - Dartmouth420

nostalgia is a series that follows the re-ignition of raven/jujubee’s friendship (with benefits) while jujubee competes on all stars five and raven is working on set. there will be one chapter for every episode of AS5 where jujubee appears. drag names used with male pronouns.

summary: Jujubee’s coming off the thrill of the challenge win and the lip-sync battle. But jealousy is a double-edged sword… and bad habits are hard to break.

tw: smut, dom/sub dynamics, mild degrading language, mild jealousy

a/n: i’m enjoying the heck out of AS5 and i hope y'all are too.

Jujubee was very pleased with his performance in the challenge. Designing and presenting the hotel room had been surprisingly fun and despite his early misgivings, India and Alexis had been great to work with. Jujubee was confident, he’d been funny, coherent, and had delivered exactly as he’d intended. One hundred percent pure Laotian gold sheets indeed.

Raven hadn’t been around much and Jujubee hadn’t sought him out.

“Girl,” said Mariah, in that patient, knowing drawl of his as they painted their faces in the mirror in preparation for the runway and the judging, “I know what you’re doing.”

“Do you now?” responded Jujubee, carefully covering his mild panic. Not that there was anything to panic about but he had technically broken an important rule…

“Don’t you look at me like that, I ain’t a snitch!” laughed Mariah, “But I noticed that hickie. Maybe next time I’m feeling the stress of the competition I’ll go see for myself if darling Raven is around. I’ve got good memories of that mouth.”

“Since when?” responded Jujubee. He hadn’t realized the two of them had ever been involved, though hook-ups were certainly common among the community.

“We’ve both been around for a while,” said Mariah, with a knowing shrug, “We’ve both been getting around for a while.”

“Damn, who hasn’t he let fuck him?” joked Jujubee lightly, but slight jealousy was twisting in his stomach. He couldn’t deny Raven’s reputation. Though Jujubee had vaguely hoped he had the other man to himself, at least if their on-set shenanigans were going to continue.

“Out of the old generation? That list is short. From what I’ve heard he and Raja are working through the younger ones, too… just ask baby Naomi.”

Jujubee chuckled and he and Mariah returned to the task at hand. 

-

Jujubee won the fucking challenge! 

He couldn’t help letting a few tears escape his eyes as the pride and relief overflowed. It was a lot. And then the damn Untucked was a lot, too. Connecting with Mayhem and Blair was great, but emotional as hell. Nerves and anticipation were creeping up for what was to come next.

He spoke with everyone, changed into his leopard-print catsuit, picked out his damn lipstick and then before Jujubee knew it he was standing on the runway, and Ru was shouting “Ru-veal yourself!”

Jujubee turned, heart in his throat as he stared at the screen and the assassin contained behind it. Jujubee’s prediction from the other week in the bathroom with Raven returned to him, and his heart pounded in anticipation. Was it Raven behind that screen? Production would never be able to wrangle it, there was no way, but-

The screen rolled up and Jujubee saw soft orange velvet ankle-boots and while they were lovely shoes Raven would never wear something like that in a million years. As the screen rose Jujubee forced Raven to leave his mind as he focused on the task at hand, which was going to be beating Monét-motherfucking-X-Change in a lip-sync battle, to a Lizzo song.

All Stars Five was hard, damn it.

Monét gave an amazing performance, and Jujubee did his best but the emotion of the day left him a bit thrown off. Jujubee was disappointed with the loss, he could admit that. Somewhere in back of his mind he knew if he had been lip-syncing against Raven he could have beaten him, and felt ever-so-slightly cheated that his prediction hadn’t come true. Oh well, it was water under the bridge. 

Then there was the matter of sending Mariah home which was way more fucking tragic than anyone including Jujubee had been ready for. 

“Good luck, girl,” whispered Mariah in Jujubee’s ear as they hugged and he left the runway, “And have fun.”

-

When Jujubee finally, finally got back to the hotel after a very long day, he walked down the hall to his room and noticed a figure leaning against the wall next to his door, one arm tucked under the opposite elbow, eyes down on his phone.

It was of course, Raven, looking like a tall drink of… chaotic whore. But what else was new? Jujubee approached, quiet, waiting for Raven to notice him. 

“Hey bitch!” said Raven when he looked up, a grin his face, “I heard a rumour that you won the challenge today.”

“Mm-hmm,” replied Jujubee, self-satisfied, sliding his hotel key into the slot and then opening the door. The day had been an emotional roller coaster, full of highs and lows. He was dead tired on his feet. 

Raven followed him inside without needing to be asked and said, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks, fuck I needed a win.”

“I know, you deserve it. It’s been a long time coming.”

Jujubee tossed his day bag onto the chair, and laughed, “I thought it was gonna be you behind that screen. Bitch I was like ooh shit we just talked about it last week and now I’ve won? Hope he’s ready… ”

Raven put his phone down on the table, “I wasn’t lying to you when I said I’m not an assassin-”

“Jury’s still out on that, I can’t trust anyone.”

Raven laughed, and Jujubee gave him a suspicious side-eye that was mostly for show. Mostly.

“Monét destroyed you.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘destroyed’,” replied Jujubee, mildly insulted. He thought he’d held his own pretty well in the lip-sync, but the disappointment that it wasn’t Raven had thrown him off… 

“Kicked your ass, cut you to pieces, sliced and diced,” continued Raven, stepping closer to him.

“Shut up.”

“No, I live to give you a hard time,” said Raven, passing by Jujubee and making his way over to stand next to the end of the bed, “One more bitch down, huh?”

Jujubee took a moment. Raven was posed awkwardly, looking down at the bed with his arms crossed, avoiding eye contact. Jujubee cocked his head to one side, and considered his response. He was pretty damn tired tonight but elation and pride were still tingling under his skin. He had just won, after all. And curiosity was pulling at him.

“Did you get a chance to say goodbye to Mariah?” asked Jujubee, casually, reaching for the water bottle he’d left out on the table.

“Yeah, I saw him afterwards. You know how emotional the eliminations are. We, uh, talked,” said Raven quickly. Jujubee recalled his earlier conversation with Mariah, noted Raven’s avoidance of eye contact and presumed something must have happened. But it seemed odd that Raven wouldn’t brag about it.

“Did he say anything interesting?” asked Jujubee.

“Interesting?”

Jujubee shrugged and took a drink of water. All he could picture was Raven’s mouth around his cock the first week in the supply closet, how good it had felt and whether Raven had done the same thing for Mariah. Jujubee was certain that he had, but there was no rational reason to feel jealous. Both he and Raven were in serious, if open, relationships and fucked all kinds of people on tour and in the ins and outs of their lives. This wasn’t anything special. 

“Anyway,” said Jujubee, putting his water bottle down. He decided to be straightforward. “It’s been a long day girl, what do you want from me?

“Oh, well,” Raven practically purred, an absolutely salacious expression appearing on his face that caused a tight thrill to swoop in Jujubee’s stomach, “You won today. I’m here so you can claim your reward.”

Ah, of course. I’ll let you fuck me if you win. Jujubee had assumed Raven meant the crown, not just a main challenge. Perhaps Raven was using it as an excuse, and he was more interested in keeping this thing going between them than Jujubee had realized. What exactly were they to each other?

“I don’t have the energy to top you tonight, I’m exhausted,” said Jujubee, crossing his arms.

Raven’s mouth fell open for a second, and then he closed it, and he shifted, still standing by the bed.

“Okay, but like, I prepped and everything-”

“Wow. Someone’s entitled.”

“Fuck off.”

“I don’t think I will bitch, this is my room.”

Raven let out an annoyed sigh and rolled his eyes. Jujubee felt a kind of calculating power, because there was something so fun about fucking with Raven. It was easy. It was almost as much fun as actually fucking him.

“Sit down,” ordered Jujubee and there was an instant change in the air, and to Raven’s expression. But Raven didn’t obey immediately, he waited, drawing out the moment. And then Raven sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Jujubee expectantly.

Jujubee approached him. There it was, the thrill of the power exchange that occurred so smoothly between them every time. 

“Keep your mouth shut,” said Jujubee. “I don’t want to hear your whining.”

Raven bit his lip and nodded.

“Take your pants off.”

Raven unbuckled his belt and undid his fly and lifted his hips, sliding his jeans to his ankles and taking them off his feet. Jujubee just stood and watched, and then brought his hand up and examined his nails, performing indifference. Raven huffed and removed his underwear as well. He was already hard. Well that was certainly fun, considered Jujubee, allowing an approving smile to appear on his face.

He approached, closing the distance between them and took Raven’s face in his hands. Tilting his head back and kissing him. Raven responded, hands going to Jujubee’s back. Jujubee broke the kiss and stepped back out of his reach. “Don’t touch." 

Raven looked disappointed but he didn’t say anything, doing as he was told. A jolt of excitement shot down Jujubee’s spine.

Jujubee decided he might as well cut to the chase.

"Open your legs.”

Raven obeyed. Jujubee stepped froward and dropped to his knees, hands on Raven’s overly-tanned thighs and regarded his cock for a moment. Raven was still, practically holding his breath.

Jujubee dipped his head and took Raven’s cock in his mouth and felt the other man practically shudder at the sensation. Jujubee went to work with his hand and his mouth, and while he didn’t fall over himself to suck cock at any given moment the way Raven did, he’d been doing this a pretty damn long time and he was pretty damn good at it too.

“Mm, fuck… ” murmured Raven.

Jujubee pulled back instantly, digging his nails into Raven’s inner thigh. Raven hissed at the pain, and Jujubee grabbed him by the chin with his opposite hand. 

“Did I say you could talk?”

Raven shook his head, a smirk growing on his face. Jujubee held eye contact until Raven looked away and pressed his lips together, pouting, submissive.

“Keep your mouth shut you little slut, and maybe I’ll let you finish.”

Jujubee wasn’t entirely sure where that had come from, because he really hadn’t been planning for things to get this intense. But Raven inhaled sharply, and his cock twitched and he obediently remained silent, so Jujubee returned to his task. 

They really shouldn’t let this become a habit, considered Jujubee as he sucked on the head of Raven’s cock and Raven let out a heavy breath. Warm nostalgia rose in Jujubee’s chest.

During All Stars One there had been part of the Untucked that had remained unaired, during the heavily staged Fuck, Marry, Kill conversation. Raven had just infamously and hungrily told Manila, “I would actually fuck you.” But what Raven had said next, in response to Jujubee’s name coming up had been to simply give him a wink and say, “Been there, done that. Marry.”

They hadn’t done anything yet, of course. Raven had been holding off on him since Season Two. It had only made the tension between them higher, much to Jujubee’s frustration. Jujubee’s response to Raven’s name had been, of course, “Fuck. Baby, I’ll make sure you can’t walk the next day.”

And he had.

Jujubee snapped back to the present, because it seemed like Raven was going to come soon. Raven had fallen back to his elbows, his breath shallow, and a flush was beginning to creep up his neck to his face. They really weren’t supposed to be doing this. The stakes were too high and Jujubee wasn’t exactly sure where Raven would fall under the ‘no conjugal visits’ rule, should anyone find out.

But anyway, Raven finished, staying obediently silent and keeping his hands off Jujubee as ordered. There was a certain satisfaction to it. Jujubee efficiently spat into a tissue and tossed it into the wastebasket in one swift movement. Raven lay back on the bed with a lazy hum, rolling onto his side. 

Jujubee didn’t have anything better to do so he flopped down next to him, propping himself up on his elbow. 

“You can talk now,” said Jujubee dryly.

“Mmm, permission received.”

There was silence for a moment. Jujubee considered whether he wanted to go to the effort of having Raven give him a handjob or something and then decided against it. He was dead tired. Sleep was looking attractive.

“You know you could be getting laid plenty this season, if you want it,” said Raven, seemingly out of the blue.

“What makes you say that?” asked Jujubee.

“That short bitch Cracker wants you, it’s obvious,” stated Raven with feigned nonchalance, rolling onto his back, tucking his arm under his head, “You going to fuck him?”

“Perhaps,” replied Jujubee, delicately touching his collarbone, giving Raven a smirk, “Are you jealous, bitch?”

“No,” said Raven, rolling his eyes, “You can do what and who you want, obviously.”

But Jujubee knew him well enough to read his body language, to see the set of Raven’s jaw and the tension in his shoulders. Raven was such a brat, and he was clearly feeling insecure about being left behind for someone younger and more fun. Oh, sweetie. 

“Well, now that I know such a great place to fuck people on set-” began Jujubee.

“Hey, no, that’s my spot!”

“Who else are you possibly fucking at work?” joked Jujubee, a vision of Mariah flashing before him.

“Eh, there was this twink PA I liked but he’s working somewhere else now, so-”

How intriguing. Ah, Jujubee could certainly pursue Cracker if he wanted to, the man wasn’t unattractive, but playing with Raven’s ridiculous emotions would probably be more fun. It wasn’t that Jujubee wanted to actually hurt him by any means, but Raven could be so dramatic and self-centred that there was a certain satisfaction to winding him up.

“So it’s just me?” teased Jujubee, pushing his luck.

“Do you think you’ll fuck Cracker?” responded Raven, dodging the question.

“Hmmm… I could.”

“But will you-”

“I don’t know yet, bitch!” laughed Jujubee, “I need to focus on winning. We probably shouldn’t even be doing this, it’s a distraction.”

“No it isn’t,” said Raven, a sly smile growing across his face, “This is what they call emotional support." 

The two of them laughed and Jujubee rolled his eyes, "You’re so stupid.”

“You like it.”

“To a point.”

Raven shrugged and then yawned, “Well I better go, I have to drive home.” He looked down at himself, amused, “Ha. I’m still naked.”

Jujubee admired Raven’s ass as he got up and pulled his underwear and jeans back on, heaving a deep sigh.

“Bye bitch,” called Jujubee, as Raven got his phone and left with a casual wave of his hand. The door shut behind him, and Jujubee blinked, the exhaustion of the day crashing back down on him. He got up and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Tomorrow would be another challenge, and in all likelihood another twist. But whatever, Jujubee was ready. Bring it on, All Stars Five. 

[desiraypark]

Much Needed Assistance (5)

“The Day Off” Previous (“Scrambled Brain”) Entire Work Content: Okay, guys. I probably should have warned you four posts ago (I didn’t initially plan to make this series), but this “relationship” does not become “nice” or “soft”. Mind games are coming into play now. For the safety of anyone who continues to read this, or who merely scrolls by, this series will become triggering, if not already. I will spoil this series’ plot after the “Keep Reading” break. Angst; Kylo Ren showing more of his true self; Manipulation; self-blame; good day ruined From this point forward: Mental abuse TW | Emotional abuse TW | Intimidation TW | Humiliation TW | Word Count: 1,857

SPOILING THE PLOT (If it isn’t obvious by now): Kylo Ren is trying to turn Reader to the Dark Side--or rather, make her view her work with the Final Order as more than “just a job”, or a way to make money. Kylo Ren wants to produce heirs... ...but Kylo Ren is opting to be disingenuous about all of this.

The mattress dipped. There was no cuddling or spooning at the end of it all—but you felt the warmth disappear when his body did. Kylo was about to start his day with exercise, meaning it would soon be time for you to get up and start your own day. You watched him walk into the main room and grab last night’s abandoned garments. He returned to the room and tossed your clothing on the bed.    “I’ll only want black coffee for breakfast,” he said putting his robe on. You lifted your body, grabbed the nightgown, and pulled it over your cool skin. “Just coffee? No smoothie?” He walked out the bedroom. “Just coffee means just coffee.” You swallowed and placed your feet on the cold floor, letting the nightgown fall to your calves, then you put your underwear on. Whoooosh!—ran the shower water. Kylo said nothing more, even as you walked past the bathroom and looked in his face before he stepped into the shower and drew the curtain.

“Our security on planet Devaron have captured remaining Resistance members and allies,” General Pryde announced. “They’ve held them for questioning, but they aren’t budging. Should we give them the okay?”    Pryde called the morning meeting very early—giving you no time to indulge in a shower to think about the night before. You sat in your usual place, behind Kylo Ren, jotting down notes from the meeting. But your thighs were on fire. Sitting still you focus only on the pain—but moving was a bitch. You shifted in your seat, causing a squeak to echo throughout the room. No one paid attention, however. “No. Tell them to keep a close eye on them. I will pay them a visit myself. We should—” Squeak. The Supreme Leader paused. You grimaced and clutched your pencil. “We should send a message out to all the bases, telling them to keep watch of their planets. Keep an eye on their bases, their ports, their cantinas—any place that holds space for meetings.” “Yes, Supreme Leader,” General Pryde said. You straightened your spine to give your lower back a stretch. “Captain Undilla, we shall make plans to visit Devaron and the rest of the Col—” Squeak, went the chair, as you rested your spine. Kylo slowly turned around at his waist, and you swallowed. “Y/N, do you need medical attention?” All eyes fell on you, and your chest burned.    “No, Supreme Leader,” you answered meekly. “Do you require a sedative?” he pushed. Your eyes narrowed and you drew in a deep breath. “No, Sir,” you responded with a sardonic tone. The mask lingered on your face, as did the curious—and fearful—eyes behind him. You broke the stare and looked down at your notepad. In your peripheral, you saw him face his personnel. “We shall make plans to visit Devaron and the rest of the Colonies, at your earliest convenience, Captain Undilla,” he continued. “I could be available right after the Troopers’ training, Supreme Leader,” she responded. “Very well.” You flipped over to the previous page of your notepad, where you’d written the day’s agenda. Training for new Stormtroopers usually ended at noon, but there was an appointment to meet with droid engineers at 11:45. Ren had been irritable all morning—giving deadpan responses to most of your questions. He’d deemed this appointment one of importance when he scheduled it, but now you needed to gauge its current status. Last week, you wouldn’t have had any problem breaking through the Final Order chatter to remind Ren of the appointment, but now, anxiety shrouded you. Now, he seemed likely to Force slam you onto the floor for opening your mouth. “What is it that you need to say, Y/N?” he cut across General Firestone. The room fell silent. “I didn’t say anything, Sir,” you answered foolishly. You knew good and well he could sense your tension. This time, he didn’t bother turning to face you--he just talked over his shoulder. “You are fretting over something important, Y/N. Will you call me a liar by saying that you’re not?” Eyes fell on you again. Frankly, the officers staring at you humiliated you more than Ren being a dick. You cleared your throat. “You have an appointment with the droid department at 11:45, Sir.” “Common sense says that this meeting with Captain Undilla now takes priority. Do you possess common sense?” Your heart began to pound. Surges of heat shot across your limbs and pooled in your joints. What had you done, other than what he wanted? Had you not pleased him? As an assistant and a lover? Where was this aggression coming from? “I will reschedule with the droid department, Sir.” “That wasn’t what I asked. Do…you possess…common sense?” he asked. “I possess common sense. Supreme Leader.” His jaw lingered over his arm for a few seconds, then he turned back around. Tears welled in your eyes, and the Supreme Leader continued with the conference. When it was over, you gathered your notepad and followed Ren out of the room in silence. Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of the hallway and turned—causing you to pump imaginary brakes on your heels. “Take the rest of the day off,” he demanded. He snatched your notebook from your hands, and before you could question him, he turned around and continued down the hallway.

You retreated to your room and caught up on a couple of hours of sleep. Sleep…what was that? You hadn’t had a good nap or any good sleep since you became that man’s personal assistant. Later, with aching thighs, you traveled the ship without any goal: you watched Stormtroopers train and engineers work on starships. You even got to enjoy a big meal from the mess hall—with dessert! Even as an administrative secretary, you never got to have a hefty lunch. You fiddled around in your room some more before you met up with your old friends in the secretarial pool. “Well, if it isn’t the “esteemed Y/N”—personal assistant to the almighty Supreme Leader!” Mars joked. Everyone got a chuckle out of it. Him and Tima were shutting down their systems, as Violet and Xiyon were booting theirs up. Mars and Violet were the daytime and nighttime archivists, respectively. They filed every important photo, video, and document that the various departments of Final Order base sent their way for safe keeping. Tima and Xiyon were the daytime and nighttime secretaries of correspondence—sending all kinds of messages throughout the galaxy on behalf of the Final Order’s members—both high and low ranking. Then, there was Perra—the nighttime administrative secretary, whom you shared a desk with. “Is there still no administrative secretary for the first shift?” you asked. “Nope,” Tima responded. “Unfortunately, me and Mars have been doing such a good job of holding down the office, they probably won’t bother hiring someone else.” Tima and Mars gathered their things and walked over to cover you in quick hugs. “How’s the throne room?” Perra asked, smacking on her gum. “I’ve never stepped foot in there,” you responded. “And I don’t think he has, either.” “Seriously?” Mars asked. “I thought he’d be hot glued to that thing.” “Ha!” Tima chimed in. The three of you walked out of the office. “Have a good night, girls!” you waved at the remaining workers. They waved and blew you kisses goodbye, and you marched down the hallway with your friends. “I can’t believe he let you off your leash. What are you doing with us regular people?” Tima asked. You rolled your eyes at her comment. “Believe it or not, he gave me the day off,” you said. As your pace increased with excitement, pain seared across your thighs. You winced at the sensation. “I actually don’t believe it. Be honest with us. Did you kill him?” Mars asked. You let out a hearty laugh. “Shh!” Tima said. “You know that man listens…” Mars covered his mouth. “Oh, yeah. Tima told me he nearly yanked you away from your sour ropes and honey buns.” You all marched through the hallways and out the doors to the residential area of campus. Tima and Mars washed up, changed into “leisure” uniforms, and you sat with them in the courtyard to catch up on work, work, work. You didn’t dare let them see that your lower body was screaming for a bath, because then, you had to tell them why you were in pain. And you were a terrible liar. They asked you about everything from the Supreme Leader’s helmet to his robes, and even asked what kind of hair products he used. You mostly laughed off their silly questions but fed them a few crumbs to keep them from probing into his…night activities. Just before the sun set, the three of you dashed back to the mess hall for dinner, then you took them to your quarters. You missed your old lodging arrangement. Sure, you were at the heart of the operation—but you’d gone from sharing an apartment with Tima, to living in a windowless room with a bathroom you could barely turn around in. Most of the low-level Final Order workers shared apartments with two, three, sometimes even four people. No children lived on the base, so there was no use for houses. High-level workers—the doctors and nurses; engineers; the captains, generals, and lieutenants who met with Kylo Ren three times a day—they were the only ones who typically had apartments to their selves. But you’d made a little home out of your room—cute little plants sat on just about every surface. Crystals and stones dotted various areas of the room. Your favorite decorations, however, were the mementos from back home—the plate from your first (and only) speeder bike; the gold necklace your father gave you. The evening had gone splendidly—you laughing and conversing with your friends. Just as they got up to leave, you heard the quiet beeps at your door. You froze, when the helmeted figure walked into your room. “Where have you been?” Tima and Mars jumped up—Tima from your bed and Mars from your floor. They stood straight, and frozen. But you just stared where his eyes might have been, confused. “I’ve been all over the base, Sir. Were you looking for me?” “Of course, I was looking for you. Did you forget that you have a job?” “Sir, you—” “Leave us…” he growled to Tima and Mars. They jumped and glanced at you. You frowned and nodded. “Get out!” Ren repeated. They jumped again and skipped out of the room. He stood yards away from you. Still. Silent. You couldn’t even hear him breathing. Your blast door closed behind him. You swallowed your shaking fear. “Sir, you gave me the day off,” you reminded him. “I gave you the day off,” he said. Your stomach started to do backflips. Just what had you gotten yourself into? “I apologize, Sir.” More silence. His squeezing fists caught your attention, and your heart began to pound. Then, thump…thump…thump…he ascended on you in painfully slow motion, and he did not stop. His intimidating figure towered over you. That horrific helmet—that mask—brought tears to your eyes.