#that was a whole lotta yapping but i hope i was clear

[yuurivoice]

Do you have any sort of dislike toward autistic people?

No??????

This is a wild question, but I'll bite.

I interact with multiple autistic people in my day to day life, and that expands beyond my inner circle of friends and into the broader community as well. As an ADHD haver, we're sorta rubbing elbows here and I wonder what would have turned up had I been tested for autism myself. We spoke about it during my screening and it came up as a "huh, maybe" but we didn't pursue it and it didn't get diagnosed.

In the course of my eight years of doing this whole YuuriVoice thing, I have dealt with a wide variety of internet strangers. Unfortunately this includes people who are purposefully rude, entitled, or some flavor of shitty and I have taken a firm stance when certain attitudes and language smacks me in the face. It has saved me a lot of grief from jerks.

Even more unfortunate is that sometimes there are autistic folks who for no fault of their own might come off that way when dealing with me anonymously, when I have no clue who a person is, what their intentions are, or what tone they are trying to take. So they end up getting bonked when they didn't need to be, and I wouldn't have bonked them in the first place had I known.

As it turns out, when someone is a random anonymous message in a sea of hundreds, I cannot actually decipher who is who or what is what. In any interaction I have had with someone I am familiar with and have even a slight understanding or inkling that they may be autistic, it's a whole different story because I can use my understanding and experience to manage my own expectations and comprehension of the interaction we are having.

It is sort of a strange phenomena because it's not like there's been some sort of sudden spike in autism amongst my audience, that's not how that works. They've been here the whole time. If I had to hypothesize, the latest batch of young adults who've found me might have folks who have not had the same experiences online that us older folks have had that sorta trained us differently. Not to sound like a boomer, but I think most millennials dealing with a variety of cosmic mental gacha rewards could probably attest to this. So we might have a lot of people having new types of interactions in new spaces.

I think on my end, I need to start assuming the best of people's intentions instead of the worst. I had to be hard in the early years, and there were genuinely people who would behave in ways that would bug the shit outta me and it had to be called out and dealt with in the light so people understood the expectation. It could also turn off people, and that was a loss I was willing to accept if it meant people didn't treat me like a content machine to be bent to their will and poked with sticks if their favorite blorbo didn't want to have a damn pet...for example. I swear to you, that exact interaction could happen with someone neurotypical who just wanted to kick my shins and give me a hard time because they didn't like the way I was writing my character. We've seen it happen plenty over the years, I've lived it, it's a thing.

So no, I have no issue with autistic folks. I cannot immediately diagnose someone based of the flavor of their text and assume the nature of their intentions. Through years of being an online person, I've been conditioned to be on the lookout for certain flags and unfortunately there are times where a completely innocent person ends up bumping into a guardrail.

Much like how I cannot control how people react and behave, I would caution against expecting me to not also react and behave in my own ways. I'm a person who struggles with my own shit too, and have had to manage it and purposefully adapt to my situation.

My little comfort characters I cooked up for my own delight ended up getting popular, and at any given moment they're loved, hated, slandered, adored, hyperfixated upon, not good enough, the best thing ever, absolute abominations, or just ALMOST okay but I didn't do it exactly how they would have done it. It's obviously a wonderful thing, that's the dream, people give a fuck about my work! But the downside is, that shit has my head in a blender constantly and is why I try to step back from wading into the deeper waters of the community, because I'm managing my own shit and trying not to make it everyone else's problem.

When things land in my inbox, anonymously, it's a big ol soup of everyone who could at any point be either my biggest hater, biggest fan, or just a troll who wants to piss in my cheerios.

So again, I will endeavor to try and assume the best intentions instead of the worst, and when in doubt I can just...STFU and not respond. It's that easy, so I should probably keep that in mind.

Hopefully that helps explain some of what's up in that regard, and certainly if anyone has felt like they've burdened me or been a nuisance, they should know that I understand and immediately recatagorize that interaction in my brain. So for example, the Finn Pet thing, I responded by stating that I was uncomfortable and understood and accepted that they did not have ill intentions. I'm not going to pretend I liked the question or the tone, but I respect that it was not coming from a place of trying to give me a hard time and I don't hold it against them. I like to think that is how moments of unintentional friction should be handled among adults. Apologies do not suddenly make things okay or undo your discomfort, but there is an understanding of the intent and an acceptance. I don't want to infantalize people, if I said "awww it's okay you're not dumb here let me indulge your headcanon" that not only sends the wrong message about how to respond to people who self depricate in response to negative reactions, but...no, I'm not just going to double back and treat the question differently.

Alright, I gave this a whole lotta energy and genuine care. I hope it is taken as such and we're all square.

[iolite-flames]

POV: you’re fucking insane (oc love I’ve managed to jot down in writing… i again apologize for my chicken scratch tis a curse) love how it quickly went from comic planning to oc cult lore (i love being insane)

[askforfireman]

"So, you ain't much of a talker, huh?" Linus mused, having followed the man around for a while now, more or less keeping up a one way conversation the whole time. Unless you counted price tags to go along with questions to be a conversation. "Know a lotta folks like you. All broody and playin' cool as a cat that caught a prize bird."

Which wasn't a lie, but may have been a bit of an exaggeration. Sure, there were plenty of quiet types in the Fang, but just as many more that weren't.

"Always fun to mess with folks like you -- not, like, in a bad way. Least not all of the time. Just fun to rustle some feathers, and see if I can get a reaction outta ya, y'know?"

He's grinning, all casual and very much playing around. Not serious, since Volke seemed to have that covered already. and that was what Linus was hoping to disrupt a little.

It was all about getting a reaction.

In the next moment, he's pinning the other man up against a wall, all sharp teeth and mischief.

"You're a thrifty guy, right? So 'm sure you'll appreciate the first one bein' free," Linus chuckled, leaning in to give the other man a fast fiercely playful kiss. There was fire behind it, but not in an emotionally meaningful way. No, this was all about seeing how the quiet man was going to react -- positive or negative, it didn't really matter to Linus as much as the act of doing.

Marketplace shadows couldn't quite conceal a familiar face ( and there was nothing he hated more than being a familiar face outside of his networked clients. ) It'd be best to get the slip and slither off like an unknown fella the moment he spots the brute trotting even a fraction in his direction, but he had business -- the legal sort, this time. Well, partially legal. Bit of a cashed-in favor and red words to nick an addition to his arsenal courtesy of the blacksmith just over yonder.

Except that could be done any day -- better yet, towards the evening when the place clears out. Now? Now was his escape time -- a back-track of his steps leading just around the edges of the perimeter, scuttling off into the lesser alleys of academic grounds to avoid a chaser. The hell with that -- the brute was persistent, yapping just like he had on the battlefield, clinging to his tail ( hell, if some people just can't keep their trap shut ! )

Get a reaction . . . ?

Then there's a thud at his back and vices around both wrists, and instinct juts his leg out to square his foot against the oaf's hip, jostling him back, granting reprieve from being pinned between the fool and the stone wall. He snatches his hands back from where the oaf's thumbs clasp them before squaring the flat of his foot into the man's lower gut with such vigor that it racks through his own leg.

"The hell is your problem . . ."

But he's not one to let a good deal slip him by, so he bids his wordless adieu and heads off, brisk footfalls carrying him around the alleyway's corners to duck elsewhere and slink his way back to Abyss the back way. That was enough for one day -- his arsenal addition could wait.

( But don't forget the nerves -- the comprising spot. What the hell was that? To hell with friendships of that sort -- he'd rather pay a damn five grand fine than have friends if that was the shit they did. )

[rosymaeflower]

Idolize Me! CH 1

Summary: Idol!MC whos scummy as hell, follow her as she navigates Devildom from an idols perspective. Lotta plot, fluff and MAYBE smut as we go *wink wink* btw its harem af

I also post of Ao3! 

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"MC!"

My manager calls out to me as a team of stylists flutter around me, teasing and pulling on my hair and touching up on my makeup.

"Yeah?" I call out blindly to him as my eyes stay shut to allow a nameless hand to pad on another layer of shimmer atop my eyelid.

"After makeup and wardrobe, u should test the fitting of your mic and in ear piece, you don't want them falling out on you on stage!" He nags. It's so like him to remind me of things I've done thousands of times, but it seems to help him more than me so I tend to just humor him.

“Yes yes I got it!” I call out once again. The stylists around me slowly disappear one by one till it’s just my manager left, letting me know that makeup and hair has now officially completed. He presses the in ear piece into my hands and fiddles with the wires for a while, muttering about how we’re running late as usual.

I stare back into the reflection I see in the mirror. The girl before me has transformed completely from the regular me to a completely polished and idol worthy me. I barely recognize myself, but I don’t need that to do my job.

“Alright, done, get up!” My manager hurries again, signalling for the stylists to check me over once more. Their hands are on me again, pulling and tugging as they go. My eyes stray towards a screen showing a boy group nearing the end of their performance, the chants of fans vibrating through the thin walls doing nothing to soothe my ever present nerves.

“Are you ready?” My manager asks, now finally calm as I’m moving into position behind the curtains.

I chuckle, "Of course, how could I not?” The boy group bows collectively and file off the stage, the emcees of the award show returning to the stage to announce the winner of some other award I can’t remember. How much did I get for pawning off my trophies anyways? Not much if I recall, so the awards are basically worthless to me.

“Remember, make this a blast and you could get a ton of CF opportunities if your stage goes viral, we could even up your asking price!” My manager yaps, clearly off in fantasy land. I’m actually pretty comfortable with my current popularity as a soloist. My albums sell out regularly, I’ve done both local and international tours, I’ve never been in a scandal (except for the chicken wings commercial one but it was clearly the directors fault!) and public opinion of me as a person is a-okay. But of course, earning money is this industry’s driving force, it doesn't hurt to have a few more dollars lying around…

With a thunderous applause, the winner has accepted their award and has given an emotional speech of thanks. And now… It’s time.

I vaguely hear my stage name being announced before the curtains slowly peel apart, revealing a sea of colorful lights and shrill screams. I take a step forward only to fall. Fall through the ground, wind swirling around me and through my hair as the lights bend and shift into something else completely. My eyes squeeze shut and I let out a fearful scream before-

*THUD*

My eyes fly open, I'm now laid sprawled on some cool tiled floorings. The lighting is completely different, the stage and crowd is gone, my backup dancers are gone.

What the-

I whip my head around only for my eyes to lay upon an imposing figure seated atop a majestic golden throne. Tanned skin and fiery red hair, wrapped in deep red clothes that could only be described as royalty, the man smiles warmly down at me. My head is still spinning from the weird vortex I just experienced but I can tell he calls the shots around here. I'm laid right by the steps before him, which makes me feel more vulnerable than ever.

Something about him is off. Otherworldly. Despite his harmless smile, I know I shouldn't trust him right away. Besides, who the hell is he? Where the hell am I?

With my attention initially focused on him, I almost failed to notice the other figures standing in what could only be described as ‘throne room’.

A green haired man with an unreadable expression who stands by the left arm of the throne. A tall black haired man who has his arms folded and is looking at me with…. Uh, polite disinterest? Or is that malice? Honestly I can’t even figure it out. I don’t even know if I should be scared or happy right now!

By the side of Mister Dark Scary Pants, there's a lean blonde guy with striking poison green eyes, his left hand absentmindedly laying on his chest. He looks decently normal, except for the ever present wrinkle between his brows. His eyes seem to flicker in recognition as he stares at me. Beside him, a beautiful peach haired man with an even more beautiful smirk chuckles as he stares right at me, his eyes unashamedly roaming down from my head to my bare legs.

“My my~ What have we here?” He croons in my direction. Well then. Looks like he's a classic pervert.

I’m no stranger to beauty, god knows I meet many extremely attractive people in my line of work, but something about them all seem... off. Just like the Throne Guy. They're all impossibly gorgeous but I feel like I should be running for my life right now, which I would but I am currently busy being plastered to the floor.

My thoughts are then interrupted by Throne Guy, who sweeps open his arms in a shameless welcoming gesture.

“Welcome to Devildom!” He announces, his voice surprisingly friendly. "Sorry if we startled you Miss MC, I'm afraid we couldn't be sure of your whereabouts before summoning you here."

I eye all of them cautiously, unsure if I’ve died or just am in a coma. “Ah yes… Devildom yes…” I say absentmindedly, slowly getting to my feet. Did my manager arrange for me to perform for the devil? First of all, major breach of contract! Secondly, how much am I getting paid? I reckon I could fetch a high price down here...

Finally standing, I realize just how naked I feel in this vast empty room. The dress I'm wearing is an off the shoulder long glittery blue piece, definitely suited for my scheduled stage but NOT for an audience with sketchy handsome men! The green haired man beckons me up the low steps and wraps a coat with strange symbols around my bare shoulders.

"Um…" my soft voice echoes through the loud room, making me cringe but I'm way too confused and worried to care. "So where am I? And who are you people?" I wave my hand at the surrounding men. "Am i… dead?" I asked tentatively, wrapping the coat tighter around me.

If I am, how on earth did I die?? Stage piece fell on me? My manager stabbed me? My backup dancer stabbed me?? A deranged fan?? As my thoughts raced a mile a minute, the Throne Guy’s deep laugh brings me back to the present. While surprisingly warm, I can’t help but feel like I’m some sort of prey here… And the men are all definitely predators.

"No, Miss MC, you're far from it!" He puts his hand to his chest. “My name is Diavolo, I am the crown prince of Devildom,” He then gestures to the man on his left, green haired man. “This is Barbatos, he serves me as both my butler and advisor,”

His hand waves towards the other 3 men on his right. “These are the Avatars of Sin, immediate to my right is Lucifer, then Satan and Asmodeus.

A strained smile finds itself on my face at his words. Is this some sort of prank? I shifted my eyes around, hoping to spot a secret camera, a boom mic, anything that would confirm my suspicions but I found nothing. Those names… I was never religious but everyone knows the name Satan and Lucifer right? The rest of the names sound familiar as well, biblical yet demonic at the same time…

I eye Diavolo, my eyes hoping to catch something that could help me figure all this out. "So Diavolo… If I’m not dead, why am I here?" I ask tentatively, still not believing most of what’s going on.

"Why there's no need to be scared, pretty girl!" Asmodeus purrs at me. "Just look me in the eyes…" His hand reaches out to turn my face towards his before a black gloved hand reaches out to smack it away.

"Control yourself, Asmo," Lucifer says sternly, nearly stepping right in between us.

“Aw you’re no fun Lucifer,” Asmodeus laughs, shooting me one last wink before leaning back. It seems like this Lucifer has some sort of authoritative power over them too?

Diavolo clears his throat, bringing my attention to him once again. “Well to answer your question, you’re here on a student exchange programme!” He says cheerfully. “You will be attending RAD, the Royal Academy right here in Devildom to learn the customs and culture of us demons here.” He explains.

My mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “Uh huh?” I ask, a little in shock.

“Worry not,” Barbatos finally speaks, his voice light and lilting. “Your disappearance back home will be dealt with accordingly and you will be given all the help you need to adjust to your 1 year stay here.” He says, stepping forward to press a mobile like device into my hands. “ This is your D.D.D, it operates similarly to a regular human cellphone where you can contact people, complete your tasks for school and even operate social media.”

My jaw drops. “Wait so… I can contact my friends and family? And even post from hell??” I ask hopefully. “And wait, did you say ONE YEAR??” My brain finally caught up to everything he said.

“Let me correct myself, you can contact residents here only, and you will only be able to access Devilgram for social media purposes, it won’t impact your account back on the human realm.” Barbatos explains patiently. “Also, this place is officially called Devildom but yes there are humans who call it ‘Hell’.” He says, a little amused. “And yes, the exchange programme lasts a year.”

Well then. There goes whatever social standing I have left. People forget stars as quickly as they come, a year without comebacks? Or posting? Or shows? I’m basically jobless for the next whole year! Where am I gonna get my money! Also not seeing my family? Not to mention me never signing up for this anyways!

“But I have a job!” I exclaim, eyes flitting back and forth between Diavolo and Barbatos. “I didn’t sign up for this either, you must have the wrong person-”

Barbatos shakes his head calmly. “We most certainly have the right person Miss MC, you may not have signed up for this but your file was picked out of tens of thousands, you are incredibly lucky to have this opportunity.”

I made a face at him, finally regaining my nerves. I also don't have to worry about cameras here so I don’t have to worry about scandals anytime soon! “Listen, my job-”

“Ah yes, you’re an idol back in the human realm correct?” Diavolo interrupts me now, his teeth glinting under the chandelier light. “Not to worry, we have made it so that you’re taking a hiatus from performing to go back to school, we have made sure your family is aware of that too,”

The beautiful man gasps suddenly. "Oh my god! I knew I recognized you from somewhere!" He grabs my hand, leaning closer into me. "You're (stage name)!" He exclaims, eyes roaming over my face in childlike wonder. Once again, Lucifer moves forward to pull him back, this time with a disapproving glare.

I grin a little shakily. So demons can recognize me after all… "Ah yes but that's just a stage name… My real name is MC," I explain.

Satan, the blonde man, taps his fist into his palm in realization. “No wonder you looked so familiar,” He says. “I’ve heard of you and your songs,”

My eyes widened in surprise. “Demons… know idols?” I ask curiously. This could be a huge plus for me, I could rack up tons of cash down here, maybe even convert whatever demon money I earn into human money!

Barbatos finally smiles at me, his face looking way less mysterious with it now. “Yes Miss MC, you’ll find that you have a bit of a fanclub down here in Devildom as well.” He says.

“Oh!” I must say, in my 4 years of being an active idol, I never expected a portion of my fans to be made up of demons. But a welcomed surprise… I can hold concerts, fansigns, maybe even a high five event? Just thinking about all the money I could get from this is exhilarating!

“During your stay here you will be living with us,” Lucifer interjects through my money driven thoughts. “By us I mean my brothers and I, the Avatars of Sin.”

Asmo snickers, “You and I will have plenty of time to get acquainted with one another then, I’ve never been with an idol before!” He says almost giddily, licking his lips.

“and you never will.” I say firmly, frowning slightly.

“Please excuse my brother, he’s the Avatar of Lust after all,” Satan says, folding his arms. “I’m the Avatar of Wrath and Lucifer over here is Pride but I’m sure you can tell that by the pompous way he speaks and acts-”

“Satan please,” Lucifer grits out, “We have guests and we are in the audience of Lord Diavolo, mind your words,” He narrows his eyes at his brother, who shoots him an equally dirty look back.

I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh which earned a smug smile from Satan and a piercing glare from Lucifer. “Haha yes… So is that all I have to know?” I ask finally, rolling my shoulders back to ease a bit of the tension that’s been building up since I got here.

“Ah since this is an exchange programme, you aren’t the only human here,” Barbatos says. “Solomon, a human sorcerer, will be taking the same course you will be as well at RAD,”

“A sorcerer?” I ask in wonder. Hmm, I definitely should get to know him, I can’t just be with demons all the time can I? And he may be a fan… How much would he pay for a signature hmm?

“Yes but he will be living in the Purgatory Hall with the angels from the Celestial Realm,”

“I’m sorry what now?”

“You’ll be living in the House of Lamentation with the brothers as explained,”

“Why, pray tell?”

Diavolo lets out a laugh. “I assure you this wasn’t on purpose, the Purgatory Hall just doesn’t have enough space for all 4 of you,” He explains. “Now Lucifer, about her caretaker?”

Lucifer clears his throat and steps forward. “We Avatars of Sins are in RADs student council, so we will naturally be looking after you during your stay here in Devildom but I have also assigned one of my brothers to be your primary caretaker for any of your immediate needs,” He pulls out his own D.D.D, taps on the screen a few and then hands it to me. “You may call him down here, his name is Mammon” He said. “Put it on speakerphone,” He adds, his brows knitting together almost in preparation for disapproval.

I gingerly take his D.D.D and tap on Mammons name. Since they’re all assigned to one of the 7 deadly sins, I wonder which is Mammons? The dial tone is steady for a long while and before I wanted to give Lucifer back his phone, someone picked up.

“Whaddaya want?!” A males voice rings through the air.

Out of my peripheral vision, I see Lucifer's hand reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“Uh hi?” I ask, a little awkward. I look incredulously at Lucifer who isnt looking at me, why’d he hand me the phone so abruptly?! Asmodeus and Satan look on with little smirks on their faces, Satan probably enjoying Lucifer's despair more than the actual phone call.

“Wait you ain’t Lucifer!” Mammon shouts through the phone. “Whyddaya sound like a gir-” Mammon gasps loudly. “Are ya a gal he’s seein’?!!”

I splutter as Asmo and Satan laugh openly now, clearly enjoying this all too much. Lucifer lurches forward as if to grab his D.D.D. back but Diavolo holds out a hand to stop him, hiding a smile behind his palm with the other.

“Wait why’d I hear Asmo and Satan too?! Are ya with ‘em too? Lucifers gonna be real mad if he finds out ya know?!” Mammon shouts urgently at me, as if giving me holy advice.

“I- What? NO!” I trip over my words trying to get my point across. “No, god no, I’m a human from the exchange program?” I say, glancing up at Barbatos to make sure I’ve said the right thing but his unreadable expression tells me nothing.

The line goes dead silent for a bit. “LUCIFER’S SHAGGIN’ A HUMAN?!?!” Mammon bellows through the phone.

I blush wildly at his words, not knowing what to answer. Satan and Asmo laugh openly now, Satan falling to his knees as he grasps at his stomach. Lucifer hisses, grabbing his phone back now that Diavolo’s too busy laughing to stop him.

“Mammon, I’m giving you 1 MINUTE to come down to the throne room or I’ll have you hung from the ceiling for the rest of the week,” Lucifer says lowly into the phone, his voice dark and uh.. Scary as hell? Remind me not to get on his bad side thank you!

The line goes silent again. We all settle into silence as we hear thuds echoing through the walls, gradually growing louder before the big grand doors burst open to reveal a huffing and puffing figure collapse on the carpeted floor. Tanned skin with snow white hair, Mammon is as attractive as all of his brothers, except for the fact that he seems to be dying right in front of us.

“38 seconds, not bad,” Lucifer tuts, glancing at his watch.

“ARGH,” Mammon groans. “What was that for Lucifer?! I wasn’t gon’ tell nobody!” He complains, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants.

“You dare forget that we are supposed to welcome the new exchange student today, jump to such conclusions and embarrass us in front of Lord Diavolo?” Lucifer seethes, crossing his arms, his eyes glowing redder by the second.

“Relax Lucifer, he’s here now so it doesn’t matter,” Diavolo drawls from his throne. He seems to be enjoying this little show we have unknowingly put on.

Mammon eyes me with distaste. “So ya a transfer student? Why are ya all dressed up like that anyways?” He asks suspiciously.

“MC here is an IDOL,” Asmo claps his hands in glee. “Come on MC, let’s bounce! I can’t wait to show you all the makeup we have down here!” He links his arm with mine, pulling me towards the large doors left ajar by Mammon.

Mammon whips around towards us suddenly. “AN IDOL?! Hang on are ya (stage name)?!” He nearly shrieks, eyes as large as saucepans. A fan maybe?

“Yeah that’s right! And you aren’t getting your scummy hands on her cuz I claimed her first!” Asmo brags, yanking my arm tighter towards him.

“I mean if you want a signature, you can pay me for one,” I offer with a sly smile, shrugging Asmo off. How could I pass up such an opportunity? Maybe I could even inflate what I usually charge at fansigns back on Earth…

Mammon's jaw grows slack as he stares at me. “Are ya… chargin’ me?” He whispers, grasping at his heart.

Satan lets out a sharp laugh, walking towards us. “Turns out she’s as scummy as Mammon,” He comments, eyeing me with newfound interest.

“Ridiculous,” I scoff, “I’m scummier.” With that, I relinked my arms with Asmo and we marched out of the hall with Satan, leaving Mammon standing there stunned.

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like/reblog if ya like ^-^

[omgnsfwisnsfw-blog]

Game #8: The Pretender

Hard open. Mike McGuire stared intensely at the camera, background obscured. Their emerald gaze was unwavering, a frigid glare. This image held in silence a moment before their lips twitched a couple times, followed by a snort issuing from their nose. The edges of the eyes crinkled a bit and the lips pursed inward, cheeks puffing slightly as if trying to hold something inward. And then it happened. “BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” The camera pulled back a bit to reveal the full extent of McGuire’s laughter- they went from holding their sides to smacking their knee, taking a few gasping breaths to try, against all odds, to regain some form of composure. “Aw, fuck. Aw, s-shit, I’m sorry, I just… you’re gonna… you’re gonna take me out back and…” More laughter. Almost as if this very notion was the most hilarious thing they’d ever heard in their entire life. “...s-shoot me like Old Yeller! Oh my fuckin’ god I’m gonna pee. Okay. Okay. Shit.” A few more inhales and exhales. In through the mouth, out through the nose. The Bronx Brawler’s surroundings appeared to be her and her partner’s hotel room in Cusco, and Mike themself is currently clad in hiking gear- sturdy boots, cargo shorts, a black tank with the baseball-sugar skull and bat-crossbones logo of Los Veleros de Columbus, and, of course, their Mets cap. They sat on the end of the bed, bouncing a bit. “Me and Church are about to go hike up to Machu Picchu. I was thinking of responding to whatever you planned on saying on the way up. You know, about how you were gonna be a tough mountain to climb or whatever ridiculous bullshit. Make the most of the surroundings to make a fuckin’ point. Then I wondered why the holy blue fuck I would want to waste even a few minutes of a life-changing experience like this talking about you. Oh, and then I saw what you actually put together. Girl. I can’t. I have lost all fuckin’ ability to can. Did you seriously fuckin’... okay.” Reaching behind them, Mike retrieved their laptop, cracking it open. “I don’t know if you know this is what you fuckin’ sounded like, and I ain’t no goddamn’ computer artist, but I had to make some kind of visual aid. ...Where the fuck did I.. ah. Here we go.” Spinning the laptop around, the viewing audience was treated to a rather hideous image that, frankly, could’ve been put together better by a middle school student. “Onions have layers. Dakota Jennings has layers. And as you can see, ogres have layers, so the best I could put together that you were tryin’ to fuckin’ tell me was that you, Jennings, are a fuckin’ ogre. Which makes a whole lotta fuckin’ sense, to be honest- I mean, you’re ill tempered, not overly fuckin’ bright,  and have the kind of fuckin’ attitude that points to you bein’ born and raised in a goddamn swamp. But, y’know, maybe I don’t have much room to talk on those points. So let’s get serious.” The laptop is snapped shut and tossed on the bed behind them, their hands folding on their lap, the intense expression from before finding its way back onto their face. “I really do find your threats cute. You’re gonna take me out back and shoot me. You’re gonna make me cry my eyes out. Do you think I ain’t heard that shit before? I can’t count how many others have tried the same lines on me. I ain’t scared. I ain’t fucking intimidated. After all the punishment I’ve taken over the course of my career? I don’t sweat anything anybody has to dish out. So all your fuckin’ yapping is just the angry barks of a pissed off Pomeranian to me.” Mike waved a hand, scoffing. “You’re also making a big deal pointing out just how wrong my assumptions are. How, ��no! I was only pretending to be a fuckin’ twit! I really am fuckin’ awesome when I don’t have a chair handy! Behold my… two whole fuckin’ video clips illustrating this fact! I was in MMA! I have a chokehold!’ Great. Wonderful. You keep running your mouth and showing me home movies and I’ll continue to not fucking believe you till I see it myself, mano e womano. If you really needed to use a chair at Rite of Kings just to put me down, cuz you couldn’t get the job done otherwise? Woman, you just admitted with your own damn mouth that on an even playing field, I am better than you. And if that really ain’t the case? And you haven’t needed to stoop to the tactics you’re known for at all, cuz you really are an awesome wrestler, really, honest? Then Jennings, that just means you’re fuckin’ lazy.” They sat up straight. “I stand by what I said. And it counts double now that you’ve gone and made such a big honkin’ deal about it. If you make a fucking hypocrite out of yourself, I am not gonna be a happy goddamn camper. And my threats? They ain’t cute. I ain’t no little ginger Pomeranian, I’m a goddamn junkyard Rottweiler with giant fuckin’ balls. I will rip your fuckin’ windpipe right out of your neck if you try to screw me. But hey, you’re not gonna have to worry about that, right? You’ve shown me what a straight shooter you are. And you’re nothing if not trustworthy, Jennings.” They got up, and looked down into the camera, their expression utterly wicked. “Least, for your sake, I hope that’s the case. See you real soon.” Click to black. Several hours later, NSFW were well on their way. Mike had a large hiking pack, complete with packed-up bedroll, tucked on their back, and John had likewise. It would take all of their ‘vacation’ time to make it to the ancient Incan citadel and back, but in Mike’s mind, at least, it would be worth it- the hike would serve as a good extended workout, and besides, this was a once in a lifetime experience. Every international destination they visited promised something like this- one of the best perks of their job was the opportunity to see the worlds’ greatest and most breathtaking landmarks. So far, the hike along the Lares Trail was amazing even in its early legs. The ground they walked was a well-trodden dirt pathway, and the sky was as clear and blue as Mike had ever seen. A small herd of llamas, likely property of a nearby Andean village, grazed on the low grass. Eyes wide, Mike turned to their partner. “Incredible, ain’t it?” John didn’t say anything, he looked about - absorbing his surroundings. There was a faint smile on his face that may tell Mike just what he thought. Mike quickened their pace just slightly, allowing themself to walk at his side, keeping pace just a ways behind their guide and the same ways behind the pair of donkeys that served as pack beasts. Their hand slipped into his easily. It was refreshing to do so- even if there were only a few others around, minus the residents of the village, it was still a more public display of affection than they usually displayed. They didn’t have to hide. They were as a rightful part of the world as the ancient city they were heading toward, as the little villages they passed through where the Andes people had lived in the same way for thousands of years. “...we belong here.” It was part of their thoughts escaping aloud- just loud enough, however, for John to hear it. The guide motioned that they’d be stopping for a break, and Mike took a seat on a nearby rock wall that was probably ten times their age. John sat beside them. “Makes one envious even,” John’s voice was just above audible, “I’m good with coming back. But I meant it. And while I feel invigorated... one day we need to step away. Satisfied with what we’ve accomplished. Because there is always more that we could do. Always more.” “I know.” They always did. They always knew this story, or at least this version of this story, would end one day. Where they’d reach the last page of the book called ‘NSFW’ and put it up on the shelf so they could start writing the book called ‘John and Mike’. “I still wanna do this though, when we can. I never wanna stop seeing things like this. Experiencing the fuckin’ world. I know we probably won’t be able to travel’s easy or often as we do now, cuz we got the perk of not having to pay for airfare an’ shit, but… yeah. Promise me we can still do this?” “I like doing what you like,” he paused. He knew that was something that stuck in Mike’s craw lately. His mind clicked and whirred as it struggled to clarify his stance, “I like it, too.”   “I’m glad. … Holy shit, check that out!” Mike pointed upward. Soaring over their heads was a magnificent bird. Even from high up, Mike could tell that it was enormous- the biggest bird they’d ever seen in their life. Their hand gripped onto John’s super tight. “...he reminds me of you. Huge and regal as fuck. I bet he could swoop down and carry off a whole fuckin’ llama but he doesn’t. He just wants to fly where he wants and be awesome on his own terms.” “He seems nice.” There was a pause. And then Mike laughed. Not the harsh, mocking laughter they’d recorded that morning, but something far sweeter. Fonder. They cracked a couple of energy bars out of their pack and opened up their canteen, handing John one and going back to watching the bird- an Andean Condor, though they didn’t know that- circle majestically around the valley. “Yup. He sure does.”