#the tics take no prisoners

[earthsparked]

Sparking Flames

Part Two | one two three four intermission five (AO3 link)

Hot Rod hissed as he was thrown away from the little organic he’d found, knocked off his pedes entirely. He lost his rifle, and could only grapple with Brawl as the bigger mech rolled them both into a building. The red-and-orange speedster winced as he heard other organics crying out. He might have only just downloaded the translation pack a few klicks ago, but it didn’t take a genius like Percy or Wheeljack to know screaming was bad.

So he’d better teach these ‘Cons who they were messing with. Hot Rod had arrived, and soon they were going to tremble at his name. Megatron himself would flee at the sight of him!

Brawl was, inconveniently, not fleeing. Yet.

Knock-knock, Brawly, Hot Rod drawled, getting hold of the mech’s helmet. He emphasized the words by slamming the Decepticon’s head, twice, into what remained of the building.

<<I’ll tear your struts out, you slagger,>> Brawl answered, and almost ripped off part of the Autobot’s arm. Hot Rod raised a pede and twisted to kick him in the knee, a very slick move he’d been wanting to try since he saw Sunstreaker do it. Brawl snarled and tripped, letting the smaller mech dance away. He had his arm transformed into a plasma gun in a split second, pointed at the ‘Con.

Nope! You’re supposed to say, “Who’s there?” he said cheerfully, taunting the ‘Con in the local language. Brawl probably hadn’t bothered to learn the Earth dialects; so it was even more fun to trash-talk him, knowing he couldn’t understand.

Come on, it’s a local thing. It’s funny. Just go with it. When in Polyhex…!

His only warning was a sudden comm from Bluestreak, perched somewhere with a better vantage point than he had. <<Roddy, Lazerbeak on your six! Duck!>>

Duck? Not a chance! Hot Rod was already firing into the air as he spun. His shot missed the flying symbiont by the length of a runty glitch-mouse, but it made Lazerbeak swerve and squawk his displeasure. The symbiont had very little armor, and having lost the element of surprise, backwinged and fled. Undoubtedly retreating to his carrier, probably still lurking in the humans’ satellites amid the space junk.

He barely had time to react when Brawl took advantage of the distraction. The ‘Con fired one final shot at him, before flinging himself messily into alt mode and running for it. All the ‘Cons appeared to be in retreat, now, and from the radio chatter the battle had actually gone well for the Autobots. No casualties; minor injuries. <<Autobots, stand down,>> the mellifluous tones of Optimus’ voice came over the comms.

The fiery mech flared his armor and preened, hands on his hips, radiating heat-waves of satisfaction.

Knock-knock. Who’s there? It’s Hot Rod, bitch.

Language, a clipped, calm voice drifted to him. Prowl stepped out of the clouds of dust, doorwings tucked close to his frame. His optics were battle-bright, his meticulously clean armor without a scratch. Hot Rod vented a rebellious snort.

Yeah, it’s called English, motherfucker. Do you speak it?

Burning rubber squealed down the street before the frowning tactician could scold him again. Jazz laughed as he spun onto the scene, leaping from alt mode to bipedal form with the grace of a dancer. Already digging into the cultural media files, my mech? You’re gonna fit in just fine here.

The Autobots’ SIC slapped the TIC’s shoulders, distracting him from any further behavioral concerns with one newly-arrived, rather young soldier.

Prowler, we got prisoners. Where you want ‘em? Ratch has one in stasis, and the other -

There was a howl, a fwump, and the sounds of Sideswipe and his brother chasing after the other prisoner. Too late to catch him, as the jet transformed and fled, trailing smoke that said at least he wasn’t unscathed. Shots from the yellow and red mechs pursued him, uselessly.

- well it was Starscream, Jazz quipped. Oooh, they’re gonna be pissed. Maybe put the Terror Twins on patrol for a while, till they get it outta their system.

Prowl did not give a very long-suffering vent, because long-suffering vents were Optimus’ oeuvre. He gave a sharp nod. Get the prisoner back to base and question them. We still have no definitive answers why they struck here. Have Ratchet focus on our wounded. First Aid and Hound are with Bumblebee, helping the humans. Optimus is busy coordinating with Fowler to assist with recovery efforts.

Huh, hey, Hot Rod said, suddenly remembering now that the battle was over. He shifted on his pedes. I, uh, kind of grabbed one of the locals to get them out of the street. They looked like forty klicks of bad road. Can we get them to ‘Aid, or Hoist?

Both black-and-white mechs stiffened - Prowl obviously so, while Jazz merely went ominously still.

And you left them alone, Autobot? Prowl asked, and it’s not a tone of voice Hot Rod likes.

No! Slag, no! Brawl came at me! We’d have trampled the poor thing! I left them under cover, right - right over -

His scorching hot energon lines feel unaccountably cold. He’s striding away without another word to his superior officers. Instead, calling Sparklet? Human? Hey, uh - you? Whatever your designation is! You all right?

Because the brick wall where he’d left you is a pile of rubble, like so much of the tiny town around him. Awful, sinking thoughts of destroyed cities on Cybertron rise up in his processor. No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Not on another planet. Not right in front of his optics. You’d been hurt but alive, the terror in your field screaming to his senses that you were so, so afraid. So confused. But so alive. Nothing modulating your field, everything you felt like a live-wire of sensation. Like nothing he’d ever encountered in any other organic species. You were lost as a sparkling fresh from the Allspark, only you had no weapons, no armor. Just him. He’d been so proud to swoop to your rescue.

And he’d failed you.

His servos shook as he clawed through the rubble. Like he’d had to do so many times on so many other worlds. To no avail. He can’t feel you anymore. Hot Rod strained his sensors to the max, flicking through his HUD with everything he had in the sensor-suite. He was vaguely aware of Prowl and Jazz coming up beside him, Prowl on comms calmly speaking with the mechs on the search and rescue team.

There are other humans now, being helped out of the wreckage by people in green uniforms. The forest service, their insignia proclaims, probably the closest thing to a military a tiny place like this would have. Hot Rod briefly scans for you among the survivors, and then, tentatively, among the bodies being zipped up in black bags. You’re not there. You’re not anywhere.

His spark sinks into his pedes. His first day on this planet, and he’d failed.

Jazz’s servos, those tools of nightmares and whispered rumors, were gentle as they landed on his shoulders as he stood, staring, his own EM field blaring distress. He’d never bothered much to hide how he felt. His outlier ability was usually a dead giveaway, anyway.

Easy, mech. I don’t see ‘em here, do you? No body. Maybe they took shelter somewhere else.

He frowned and lifted his servo from Roddy; the speedster dully realized it had energon on it. His.

Took a hit back there. You need to go see Ratchet, Jazz said in a tone that brooked no argument. We’ll get Bee and Hound over here, and -

Hot Rod startled suddenly, engine revving with excitement. Look! There!

His scanners had been looking for organics, not energon signatures, but now that Jazz had pointed it out…

Tiny footprints, with traces of energon. The trail petered out after only a few yards, but it was all the evidence he needed. You had been alive, at least when you’d run from here. But there were ‘Cons on the loose, and in fleeing the battle - anything could have happened to you!

But there was still a chance. Ignoring Prowl’s sharp words of warning and Jazz’s drawling orders, and the jolt of pain when he transformed, Hot Rod flung himself into alt mode and peeled off, hot on your trail. He wasn’t going to fail his first-ever mission on Earth, he wasn’t going to disappoint Optimus, and he wasn’t going to break his word to you that you would be all right.

And if you weren’t all right, he would make whoever hurt you burn.

His tires screeched as he flew past the water tower, following your only possible path: a lonely country highway, that disappeared into miles and miles of forest.

——————-

You’ve lost track of time.

You’re so tired that it’s a fight just to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The adrenaline got you to the water tower, down the road, and onto the dirt turnoff that led to the conservation land. The sounds of battle had died down as you slipped into the trees, their tall trunks and broad canopies muffling any outside noise.

But as you walked under the trees, following a nearly invisible dirt track to the fire tower up on the ridge, the adrenaline had worn off. You weren’t being chased by giant robots, you were so exhausted from the awful fear, and your whole body ached abominably from how hard your muscles had clenched up from the stress. You stank of fear-sweat, blood, and whatever the pink substance was. For some reason, it didn’t seem to want to dry, and you found yourself leaving tiny smears of it when you leaned against a tree to catch your breath.

In taking stock of your condition, you discovered some road rash along your side and hip, undoubtedly from being thrown to the ground by one of the first explosions. The slight discoloration that foretold what would undoubtedly become monstrous bruising was widespread enough across your body that you suspected you’d been thrown around more than once, in those confused moments you can’t quite remember. You still felt weird from that pink stuff, but stripping your clothes off was a step too far; it wouldn’t occur to you until much later that you probably should have been worried about radiation.

Your thoughts turned to the chaos you’d left behind. That robot had helped you; protected you. Been kind to you and comforted you. And the further you got from town, the worse you felt about running off and leaving it. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t fight a monster the size of a house, you should have done something! You owed the robot an apology, if it wasn’t just a pile of scrap metal by now.

And the people. Your coworkers. Mrs. Miller who ran the bakery with the donuts that were always slightly stale, but the good coffee you liked, and cinnamon rolls that were to die for. You’d just come from there, hadn’t you? When it had happened. The smells of coffee and cinnamon stir something in your memory.

Then, still leaning against a big oak - you feel it. You’re not unfamiliar with these woods. Usually the trees are welcoming to you. The peace and quiet a balm to your nerves when life gets a little too noisy. Not today, though. Today the woods have gone still and silent, the birds quiet in a different way. It hits you with a sudden sizzle of electricity up your spine, a certainty so inescapable that you don’t question your intuition for a millisecond.

You are being hunted.

You feel it, you know it. There is something alive out here that is prowling these woods. It’s got the birds frightened. Not even a squirrel stirs on the ground or moves in the branches overhead.

And you thought you were afraid before. This is somehow worse, the most instinctual part of you is screaming. You are alone. You have no weapons. You are being hunted. No one even knows you’re here among the trees. Every hair on your body is standing up in a pathetic attempt to look bigger, more threatening to whatever is after you.

This is insane. There can’t be any of those giant creatures in here with you. There can’t be. The trees would be knocked over, there would be devastation all around. You take a deep breath. You step forward as quietly as you can. Whatever is out here, you can either wait for it to find you; or you can get to the fire tower and call for help for the people you left behind.

Putting it that way there’s really no other option. Expecting every step to be your last, you push on, darting from tree to tree and underbrush to underbrush like a partridge under the eye of a hawk. Keep going, just keep going. You half-imagine the ghostly feel of giant metal fingers trailing down your back, and, oddly, find yourself wishing it was here now, shadowing your every step with that big fuck-off gun.

But you’d left it behind. Gritting your teeth, you pick up the pace. Don’t get scrapped, robot. I never got to tell you what a lawnmower is.

[automaticmercy]

Anyways something I’ve been musing for a while is ES Megatron being accidentally extremely charming. When he’s not his usual angry, tyrannical self, he’s so well spoken, and as of recent he’s been trying harder to be nicer, more patient, with the ones around him.

He’s even learning to be nice ! It’s a start.

It’s a rough idea where the former Decepticon prisoners and the Autobots call a temporary truce , and room together at the former Ghost headquarters - cue ridiculous harem-trope scenes ofc ofc.

Megatron , completely by accident , feeding into exactly what everyone needs - whether they know they need it or not.

Shockwave who is struggling with his feelings of inadequacy and uncertainty in, well, everything, vs Megatron who has been practicing giving out praise where it’s due.

“You made this? It’s brilliant, Shockwave.”

And Megatron doesn’t say it in that sappy, kiss-up tone, he means it when he says it , and Shockwave just kind of. Stares at him. Expressionless as he is , you wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance , but he is just SO pleased. And confused. He tries to ignore it and push the feelings down, but Megatron just /keeps/ complimenting him and praising him + Shockwave just slowly getting used to it and even seeking out his praise. Megatron is the first to see any new scientific discoveries he makes , and showers him with well earned praise. All the while Megatron just thinks he’s making up for old wounds, and being a good friend, meanwhile Shockwave is experiencing what the organics call ‘butterflies’ in his midsection.

Soundwave , all bitter and angry and doing his best to be detached vs Megatron who’s very patient and attentive etc. One time , Soundwave couldn’t find Ravage. He looked all over HQ and she was still nowhere to be found. Only for Megatron to appear with her in tow, explaining they were both eager to stretch their legs , and had gone for a walk. Soundwave who only glares and walks away with Ravage, not even sparing a word to his former leader.

But Megatron doesn’t take this as a deliberate insult - Soundwave has always been a less-than-talkative mech anyway. Anyways, he keeps going for walks with Ravage , and sometimes even Frenzy and Laserbeak join them . Soundwave who gets all possessive because who the hell is Megatron to be attending to /his/ cassette’s needs ?

Soundwave eventually joining them on their walks and finding he actually really enjoys them. For the first two outings, none of them say a word. The third time though, Megatron is the first to break the silence, and eventually Soundwave warms up to one word responses. Megatron, who is thrilled to have his former TIC talking to him again, begins to talk… a lot. And Soundwave just listens. Sometimes even offering up not one, not two, but three word responses ! Eventually their outings become a routine, and at some point, the little cassettes stop attending and it’s just Megatron and Soundwave, walking along a cement path as the sun sets in the distance. Megatron making some half-thought out comment that Soundwave is a lot like the moon, gleaming and silent - its usefulness and beauty often underappreciated. Etc. and Megatron spewing out an apology for underappreciating Soundwave in the past - being all sincere and genuinely sympathetic. Though, most of his words are unheard, seeing as Soundwave is short circuiting because Megatron just insinuated that he was beautiful.

And Starscream, too, will fall victim to these silly harem tropes. I’ve been thinking he takes way longer to even look Megatron in the optics - watching from afar as he ‘shamelessly flirts’ with the rest of the former Decepticons , insisting that he himself won’t fall for such obvious tricks and lies.

Anyways, Starscream who still gets all nervous in Megatron’s presence, though he swallows this all down and hides it with his impressive anger. Vs Megatron who just sighs and relents, keen to leave the little seeker to his lonesome etc. lest he invoke his wrath and ruin what little semblance of peace they harbored

Hashtag, just wanting to help ofc ofc , keeps setting up moments for Megatron and Starscream to meet ‘accidentally’. She’d seen it in a movie , when two friends are fighting and yet keep accidentally meeting, eventually learning to their reconciliation.

It doesn’t end so well the first few times, ofc, but they’re slowly getting somewhere!

One of the times, they end up in an elevator alone, and Starscream is glaring holes into the floor buttons. Hashtag had synced into the HQ’s WiFi and activated every button. Damn this place for having so many floors.

“So…” Megatron begins and Starscream holds up his servo in a ‘stop’ motion. Telling him not to even start. That he wont fall victim to his lies too, that he isn’t as much a fool as everyone else is.

“They may believe you’ve changed, but I know you - I know you haven’t changed a single thing, besides the insignia you bear.” And Megatron just stands there stupidly for a while, mulling over a thousand responses. His first instinct is to argue and defend himself but Starscream clearly doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to listen to that. When the elevator dings it’s on the second to last stop, Megatron sighs. “I’m sorry, Starscream.”

It’s a shitty apology, yeah, but it’s a start. “Save it.” Starscream would snap , and as soon as the doors slid open, he’d storm out of the elevator.

And from that moment on , every time Megatron runs into Starscream, he already has a speech of an apology ready. Starscream, at first, just gets angrier and angrier every time he hears that pathetic word drip from his former leader’s vocalizer. As if ‘sorry’ would fix anything !

But eventually , ofc , it starts to work. Starscream who lingers just long enough to hear the end of Megatron’s speech of atonement, but leaves without a word.

Around the fifth apology though, Starscream asks “how many times are you going to try and trick me with this ‘apology’?” And grumbles something about never, ever forgiving Megatron. That no mere apology would ever atone for everything. And Megatron just hums. “I dont seek your forgiveness, Starscream. I will apologize as many times as you like, for the rest of my life cycle if you’d like, and you dont ever have to forgive me even a little bit.”

Starscream just cant understand why his former leader would sink so low, this was a humiliating performance, and yet… it was charming in its own way.

Anyways, I have not fully fleshed it out but some stupid, cheesy scene where Starscream trips and falls next to Megatron but before he can kiss the floor with his pretty face, Megatron catches him - by the waist. And when he resettles Starscream on his pedes, his touch lingers, and Starscream's processor seems to fizzle out of coherency.

Agh, big, dumb, charming Megatron is my weakness I tell you. I want nice Earth spark Megatron. Someday, I'll get around to writing this hehe.

[my-darling-boy]

It’s horrible how my design course has killed my enjoyment in creativity because all they want is finished pieces founded in nothing but a spontaneous mark just to hang at some concrete art gallery or to sell to some “join our revolution” comfy business-casual company with a prison cell wellness room. I’m not saying that it’s “not art” —cos that’s a different post altogether— it’s that the ethos behind this particular formula for art education is ruining the way we think about creation.

Design courses (and other art courses I’ve heard?) are no longer teaching artists or designers techniques, drawing skills, art fundamentals and allowing them to find their own voice so much as they are only instructing how to tic boxes alongside pushing corporate and classist motivated style/methodology bias aimed at producing workers, not creatives, not to mention providing Adobe with endless funds for their despicable scam programs. That’s it. My creativity is only a means to money for them, and if they can extract the process of creation from me without the complex creative intimacy involved in it, they know they can churn out products and services faster and it’s concerning some lecturers don’t seem to be aware this is what they’re teaching? Like they’re buying into industry propaganda?

And the whole time it’s sold to you like you can be some trailblazer when the irony is they’re usually either prepping you for cubicle work or for some misguided high horse creative team pumping out design solutions completely divorced from the reality. I’m tired of all the talks about sustainability in a vacuum with no conversation about nuanced designs that factor in broader social and economic perspectives which lack thereof is leading to sustainable products being sold at a price only able to be afforded by wealthier people who are causing said economic and social problems and contributing to the rapid obsoletion of trades and crafts. Lecturers and speakers don’t seem to think that’s any of our concern and should just worry about producing the design for the hypothetical Bluetooth powered organic hairbrush or using the twigs to make the pattern for the £85 fabric square.

Like? Can I please make something that actually resonates with people outside the circle jerk of egotistical creatives and corporations? Something charming and maybe idk something that doesn’t make me want to tear my miserable portfolio in half with my teeth? And they’re like Mm nope sorry it has to be an extreme close up of a mark making abstract leaf you made from a recycled trash bag inspired by a stalled urban space which we will force you to price at £100 during your exhibition 5 people will bother to attend and no you’re not allowed any other style cos this isn’t the Dark Ages :///

I think the worst thing my lecturer ever said was, while looking around the room of our class work reduced down to a series of cubes and splatters and abstract typography, “Wow, I love how you can’t tell what anyone’s [main artist discipline] is!” Like awww conformity at the expense of a person’s individuality to make pieces for airport hallways and rich people’s living rooms wow so cool heehee like girl that’s not good?? Why on Earth are you complimenting us for that? Like I get it, I thought this course would boost skillset as an illustrator (as we were told), turns out the degree is really not for me, fair enough to anyone thinking that, but forcing students to produce modern abstract art because you think it’s the ONLY Logical Pathway for the future of design, judging them intensely for doing a different style, and thinking producing financially inaccessible art + design is the solution to things like climate change and community severance is an objectively bad take.

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

Just curious in the prison AU how did the character yk react when being arrested? I’ve seen a few videos and some people like yk resist arrest or like make it difficult for the cops to load them into the car and others just kinda let it happen? I’m just curious on how much of a struggle did the cops have when trying to arrest the proxy’s/pastas

THIS MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS FOR FUTURE PARTD OF THE PRISON AU, IF YOU DONT WANNA SEE, SCROLL PAST.

I like to think the proxies got raided, so I'm going to take some inspo from my Insane Asylum AU

Maybe Toby left a piece of evidence that led the cops right to them. For this mission, the Proxies were staying in a motel. It was the middle of the night, Toby's watching lord knows what, Hoodie's looking at some photographs he took of the victims, and Masky's smoking outside. But, as Masky's smoking, he sees bunch of cop cars in the distance. He'd run inside and tell them that they gotta leave now.

However, they got caught. Hoodie would probably be the most willing. Hoodie's the most logical of the group and he knows damn well that he isn't going to get away unless they all have a plan. He'd have the most annoyed look on his face but he wouldn't do anything.

Toby almost gotta away. Toby's had so many run ins with the cops, starting back when he was a late teenager. He would've gotten away to if his tics didn't start to act up like crazy. He'd be screaming, maybe bite a cop or two, they wouldn't definitely put a muzzle on him because he'd been sent to jail before, as mentioned in Part 1.

Masky is similar to Hoodie where he's more so annoyed then anything. But, I can see him being extremely paranoid about what the Operator and Slenderman are going to react, not even Kate has gotten caught and she works alone. He'd curse out the cops, but during the car ride, he'd be mumbling to himself, and maybe even have a panic attack.

Now to everyone else!

Ben, Jeff, and EJ were also caught together. They were all hanging out in a cabin where Jeff killing the current residents. However, Jeff had left a piece of evidence at one of his old crime scenes that led the cops to them.

EJ was dissecting one of the people Jeff killed with Ben looming over him, smoking a blunt while asking him hundreds of questions. Jeff would come over and now all of them are looming over this dead guy's body, his stomach cut open with his kidneys ripped out.

I just wanna note that these guys were the hardest to find because they're not always together, EJ eats the evidence, Ben's killings rarely leave a mark on the real world, and Jeff is good at what he does.

When the door got kicked in, the cops stared at the three in horror.

Since Ben was high as hell, he'd start laughing while saying they were fucked. Might I add, if Ben wasn't high, the three of them deadass could've escaped no problem because the cabin had a TV.

Ben was caught first and he'd be laughing, yelling "Fuck the police" while spitting on the floor. The most unserious motherfucker.

EJ killed a good chunk of the cops, but then his hunger kicked in. He ended up eating a cop, but he was able to get knocked out because of it.

Jeff got carried away and got knocked out as well.

Liu's arrest was actually recorded on live TV.

After going on a minor killing spree in a city he was in, he was seen in the background of some guy's livestream.

Liu's identity was roughly unknown by the police, and they had a few sketches of what he might look like, and unfortunately for him, they had one that was really close.

When Liu realized he was being followed by a helicopter and a few police cars, he booked it. The entire chase was live, and in broad daylight too.

He ended up cornering himself after he ran into an abandoned building. When he realized he was caught, he just sat down and waited for the cops to catch up.

When the cops walked in, they saw him sitting on top of a crate, his head facing the floor as he spinned a knife in his hand, humming a lullaby to pass the time. Tbh with you, he let himself get caught. When Jeff found out, he was so fucking pissed off. When he saw him enter the inmates ward, he yelled and playfully hit him for 30 minutes straight, Liu couldn't care less tho.

[ghostieblr]

Love & Drug Both Have 4 Letters

Based on this reel.

The scent of nerves is a thrumming counterpoint to the bold, particular words spilling out of Stiles' mouth, nailing down any hopes of the defendant gaining bail — or even freedom from the four walls of prison, at this point — against the wall of never-fucking-ever.

Derek is both proud of his husband, and concerned. Stiles is a terrific lawyer, his cases built on honest people and illegally-paved leeways that's for a good cause. Sort of like Harvey Specter, Stiles likes to insist when he's on a much-deserved ego-trip (not that Derek would often admit to those ego-trips being appropriately warranted). He has almost a decade of being a competent lawyer under his belt, and his whole life of being the mouthy kid with enough randomly specific facts floating in his mind that no one can ever out-argue him. Mostly. Not so surprisingly, John doesn't fall under that category, and neither does Derek, with some particularly dashing wins under his own belt.

Stiles does looks good in a tux, and it is a travesty that he detests them. Still, on Derek's whim, Stiles wears them, tailored to perfection on him, and this particular thought isn't doing him any good at the moment.

He's in a court room watching his husband nervously yet stylishly take-down another money mongering scoundrel, with more than a dozen people in the room, and close to a hundred (last that he saw before managing to get inside himself) outside, reporters and journalists and some activists actively rooting against the defendant, Mr. Smith. Such a common name for a common evil, the lust of greed drowning morals, sculpting contracts out of those who cannot know better.

Stiles' mind tells him often, he's told Derek, that Stiles is a fraud. An immoral man wearing the mask of a moral one. Acting under the blind angel, the oath a string of words that are his playground, and the law merely suggestions to his conduct. But Derek is an activist himself, on the day he's not working at Hale's Howls himself, his family's little diner that is perhaps not as little anymore. And in both cases, he's close to the people Stiles has saved, has directly or indirectly impacted.

Stiles sees the side of him that does the worst for the best. He sees the conduct of his own self and only a glimpse of the result. But Derek sees it all: the long nights where his husband wouldn't come to bed, someone else's livelihood more important than his own health; the panic of not finding just the right evidence, just the right information, to win the important cases (and all cases are equally important), as well as the triumph of having found the ace up his sleeve; he sees the glow of doom morph into a shine of hope on the client's faces, the win in the court of law only the beginning, and not the end that Stiles makes them to be, still, even though he's gotten better to view himself over the years.

Self-doubt lingers, and Derek knows, personally, just how difficult it is to make it evaporate. Stiles is the one with the words, the one with the right timings of the correct gestures, the one to break solemn moods with, perhaps, insensitive jokes. They're always surprising, but never unwanted, and it is why Derek feels at ease with Stiles.

Stiles is the love of his life, the moon of his existence, his anchor. He grounds him. A steady hand and rooted footing, a constant companion.

Derek tries to be the same in return. Which is why he's here on a Sunday morning of all things, in formals himself, watching the defendant's lawyer run himself ragged to prove his client's innocence, Stiles' cool and collected facade starting to fracture. The nerves aren't only in his scent, now. His lips are a thin line, eyes hard and unforgiving to the untrained eye. Derek recognizes the nervous tic of chewing his lips, and the scrambling behind his eyes.

The other lawyer has just finished speaking, and though he's not a lawyer himself, Derek understands enough to know it was a good argument. Even the defendant himself is smirking, like he's the cat with the canary.

The judge looks between Stiles and the other lawyer, Kevin. "Both of you present a strong case," she says, voice devoid of emotion. She's simply stating a fact, truly the neutral third party in this scenario. "We shall break for 30 minutes, so that you may regroup, and then I will state my ruling."

And there it is, Derek's chance. Once the judge has dismissed everyone for the time-being, he makes his way towards his husband, who is rifling through his papers like it's gonna jump up and magically become whatever it is he wants it to be.

"Stiles." He doesn't listen, doesn't even twitch. His hands are fast, moving across the table he's calling his at the moment, where his papers and other stuff are. "Stiles," Derek calls again, and this time, he moves forward, closes the gap he'd kept in honor of the place (and the reprimand they keep getting every single time, without fail. Now, Stiles will hardly even come close to him in here, always at least one hand distance away).

That gets Stiles' attention.

"Whoa! Derek, I love you, but we don't know each other here, okay?"

"You're being ridiculous. I'm your husband, I'm here to support you, and I can damn well cross your personal space." Right now, Derek chooses to take Stiles' hand from the table. He squeezes them once, in silent comfort, and despite a token protest, when he pulls Stiles, there's no actual resistance. Stiles hugs him, tight, and he feels the tension melt away, right under his hands.

"We'll get another reprimand." Stiles' sigh is spoken right into Derek's neck, and he chuckles, moves his hand up and down, down and up, and keeps doing it against Stiles' back.

"So?"

In a fit to argue his point, Stiles attempts to pull back from the embrace. Derek doesn't let him.

"Stiles, just. Let me be here for you."

That has his husband relaxing back into his hold. They stay like this for a minute or so, right until Stiles starts pulling back again, and this time, Derek lets him.

"Gotta find the ace," he says, mouth quirked-up into a semi-sad, semi-grimacing manner. The scent of nerves isn't as sharp, now, most of it freed through the physical contact, but it's still there. Derek doesn't like it.

"You will."

Stiles snorts. "Right. I've worked on this for a month, and I fucked it up, but in 30 - well, less now - minutes you think I can figure something out?"

Derek can point out that Stiles has done much more in only 10 minutes and less, but then an idea strikes him, and he grins. Can't even suppress it, as he imagines the reaction he'll get for it.

"Why do you have that on your face?" Stiles has killer survival instincts (something Derek has worked extremely hard to inculcate in him, so he's proud of it), and he should be weary. Derek with a grin is a common happenstance at the Stillinski-Hale residence, but only ever in private. Public displays of The Grin only apply when he's about to do something innately annoying, or amazing, and thus vex Stiles, who is generally the vex-en, and Derek is generally the one who has to attempt his best to not keel over from the abundance of embarrassment, love, or laughter, or all three, simultaneously, that those scenarios generate. So, Stiles is afraid for the right reasons.

"No reason," he lies, voice deliberately low. There are no werewolves here, so he knows he's not being eavesdropped on. But he wants to be. He can hear the shuffle of feet, the people who left coming back in, so he pauses, and inhales the tantalizing shift of Stiles' scent from sharp, acidic vinegar to the dulled version of petrichor - Stiles' base scent with a little bit of extra tang, his curious nature threaded into his being.

A bit more shuffling, more people filling in; even the Judge seems to be coming back, though there's more than 15 minutes left in the break.

He raises his voice, loud enough that everyone in the room will be able to hear clearly. "I have something that will relax you, baby," his words cause Stiles to flush, probably wrongly thinking something inappropriate. (He can hear Kacy, one of the police officers who knows them well enough to know their antics, mutter to her partner-in-force, a new officer, "There they go again. I swear, these two make me want a love like that!" She's angry about it, too). Before Stiles can protest, or Kacy can come to take him away, he continues, still loud, "I have some drugs to help calm you down."

"What the fuck?" Stiles' response is comically endearing. It's not even subtle, the way he attempts to check if Derek is enchanted. His eyes even glows the lightest of violets, just a blink-it-and-you-will-miss-it shade of it, as he does so. Thankfully, everyone is distracted by Derek admitting to having drugs inside a court, the executionary home of the laws, to pay Stiles any attention.

Derek doesn't reply. Instead, he fakes rummaging around in his pants, which are bit tight to comfortably rummage in, but he does the act for his audience of one. Nothing comes out of his pockets when he removes his hands, and Stiles' eyes follow them when Derek brings them both near his lips, blows a kiss onto them.

"Here, my love for you. The power of this addiction will help you through this trial."

It's the silliest thing he's ever done in his life.

Stiles doesn't do anything for a moment. In that split nanosecond, Derek regrets doing it, but then, Stiles' hands slap against his mouth, a high-pitched giggle leaving his shaking body.

Derek's grin softens, and he inhales again: strong petrichor, with notes of sunlight, and Christmas. An odd combination otherwise, the cold and sun and rain, sweet and earthy, but it's perfect to Derek. Everything is, when it comes to Stiles.

Stiles is still shaking, laughter overpowering stillness (or almost-stillness in his case), but he lets his hands make the universal motion of "grabby hands." Derek blows another kiss, and one more, for good measure. This time, Stiles catches the kisses in his own hand, puts them on his table, over the scattered papers, and makes do as if he's creating a line of cocaine, like they do in the movies.

Then, as if he's a crackhead, Stiles snorts them in. Inhales deeply, sighs loud and deep, and relaxes his body as if the love-drugs are actually having an instantaneous effect on him.

Now, it's Derek's turn to laugh uncontrollably, his body the puppet of his love for this man in front of him. Stiles is smiling, now, soft and gentle, just for him, and he's moving forward. Derek matches him, the one step forward, hand on Stiles' waist. Leans in.

"NO! Not again."

The loud reprimand has them both sheepishly pull back. Kacy thunders towards them, eyes them both with anger.

"I am not doing more paper work on this! How many times should I arrest you for indecency in a court before you two learn a lesson?"

Stiles rubs his neck, turns towards his table and papers. Derek is left to fend for himself.

The bastard.

"Sorry?"

"Derek Hale, that is an insufficient word for the torture you and your husband inflict on me every week -"

Whatever she wants to say next is cut-off by the familiar sound of Stiles finding his ace. Kacy glares at him, and Derek swears he hears even the judge try to stifle a giggle at the scene. She's always so impartial, a stoic statue, always professional. Perhaps Kacy does have a point - this is not the ground for him and Stiles to be romantically indecent.

"What do you have to say for yourself, Stilinski?"

"That the drugs worked and my husband is the best?" Stiles shoots him a glance, as if asking for help. Derek raises his eyebrows in a, "Really?" way, and Stiles pouts, silently pleading for help.

"He's gonna win this case thanks to me?" Derek tries, and Kacy crosses her arms.

"You mean, your drugs?" Derek can feel his ears turning pink. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but perhaps the whole love-drug thing should have been private. Maybe outside in that diner, which is almost always empty at this hour, but then he remembers this is a high-profile case, and that there's reporters outside.

Thankfully, Stiles saves him. "But it worked! So all is good now. I should prepare for this. Derek, why don't you go and sit? We can... talk... at home?"

"That was the least convincing innuendo I've ever heard, and on weekends, I deal with teenagers trying to do things at the Kissing Point."

Kacy is right, of course.

Derek mumbles, "Home," and hopes that is enough of a reply to let him off the hook. No dice. Stiles goes back to preparing, in the 5 or so minutes he has left, while Kacy walks him back to his seat, once again reminding him of the do's and don't's of this place.

Derek has only heard it a 100 or so times before.

Still, Kacy's lecture is worth it. Stiles wins the case, capitalist greed takes a backseat for once, and the smile he gets to witness on his husband's face is a million times brighter than the sun.

It dims a little, though, when the judge eyes him, and then, astonishingly, Derek after her ruling. Her face is impassive, but her words are clearly laden with amusement: "Indeed, love and drug have the same amount of words. Practically the same thing, if you look at them, addictive."

Derek tries to hide in his seat, but is unsuccessful; He is truly glad this trial is over. (And that he gets to talk after this with Stiles, in the privacy of their home).

[runoutofsteam]

PLEASE tell me about songs 24, 26 and 49! (and maybe 8 if you can) I'm obsessed with your playlist and feel like I generally understand who each song is about but I'd reaally like to hear your analysis

ooo anon you have picked some absolutely amazing songs and I am always happy to share my thoughts and analysis. I'm so glad you like the playlist, I am constantly tweaking it and adding to it (but I generally try to keep it at 50 songs, so sometimes I take songs off)

24 - Peter by Taylor Swift

I consider this an essential AFTG song. This is Jean's POV on kevjean!! Every little detail of this song scream kevjean to me. I know that Jean says he never expected to leave the Nest, but I think he always had a secret hope that Kevin would come back for him. In a way he did, it wasn't the way Jean wanted it. If the Sunshine Court were a different type of love story, 'loves never lost when perspective is earned' could be the romantic thesis of kevjean. Jean just stopped hoping for anything more than that a long time ago!!!! I could write analysis on every line in this song but these are the lyrics that stand out as the MOST kevjean!

The goddess of timing once found us beguiling She said she was trying, Peter, was she lying? My ribs Get the feeling she did

And I won't confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn As the men masqueraded, I hoped you'd return With your feet on the ground, tell me all that you'd learned 'Cause love's never lost when perspective is earned And you said you'd come and get me, but you were 25 And the shelf life of those fantasies has expired Lost to the Lost Boys chapter of your life

Forgive me, Peter, please know that I tried

26 - California by Chappell Roan

This song is one that kind of shifts means for me. Sometimes this song is about Jean and sometimes it about Andrew. The opening lyrics scream Jean to me, like he goes to California because he has no choice and from the jump he knows it's not the place for him, too bright, too sunny but he has to go if he wants to live. Especially in tic there are moments where he just wants to go back to the Nest because he doesn't think he deserves to be in CA.

I stretched myself across four states New lands, west coast, where my dreams lay I trade amber clay roads for the Sea foam and the endless sun rays

But with Andrew his relationship to CA is way more complicated. He really wanted to stay in California and make it work with Cas, despite everything he was going through. California was at once his dream and his nightmare and then the added complication of Aaron and everything else was too much. He couldn't just grit his teeth and make it work, especially once he knew Aaron was in danger too :( ugh this song is just too much.

Thought I'd be cool in California I'd make you proud To think I almost had it going But I let you down

Too hard, to find reasons to stay Even true love could not persuade

49- The Smallest Man That Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

This song could apply to so many different dynamics, but I put this on here post tgr after learning the Leo back story. That man traded Jeremy for a BMW and he will NOT be seeing heaven! Jeremy, my love, we are gong to find you some self respect so you can leave this man behind! These lyrics just really scream high school Jeremy trying to reconcile his relationship with Leo.

And I'll say, "Good riddance" 'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden I would've died for your sins Instead, I just died inside And you deserve prison, but you won't get time

8- Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? by Arctic Monkeys

This song is just so early Andreil! I love the dynamic that they have when Andrew is still medicated. Neil is the only thing that can keep Andrew's focus and upon re read there are like 1000 hints that Andrew was already whipped! Neil ignores/writes so much of it off because of Andrew's medication and it makes the dynamic in tkm even better. It especially remind me of the conversation they have at Exites where Andrew asks him "Do I look miserable?"

It's harder and harder to get you to listen More I get through the gears Incapable of making alright decisions And having bad ideas

Send me a number 1-50 and I will tell you what song it corresponds with on my AFTG playlist and explain what character dynamic that song reminds me of!

[cookiestar360]

Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful

sort, which could only be broken by Love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a

terrible fire breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful

prison, but none prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower

for her true love and true love's first kiss. Like that's ever going to happen. What a loony. Shrek

Beware Stay out I think he's in here. All right. Lets get it! Hold on. Do you know what that thing can

do to you? Yeah. He'll groan into your bones for his brains. Well actually that would be a giant. Now

Ogres, huh, they are much worse. They'll make a soup from your freshly peeled skin. They'll chew

your livers, squeeze the jelly from your eyes. Actually, it's quite good on toast. Back, back beast,

back! I warned you! Right. This is the part, where you run away. Yeah! And stay out. Wanted.

Fairytale creatures. Right, this one is full. Take it away. Give me that. Your fine days are over. -25

pieces of silver for the witch. Next. -Come on. Sit down there! And be quiet! This cage is so small.

You wouldn't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please, give me another chance.

Oh, shut up! Next. What do we got? This little wooden puppet. I'm not a puppet, I'm a real boy. Five

shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away. No! Please, don't let them do it! Next. What do you

got? Well, I've got a talking donkey! Right. Well that's good for ten schillings, if you can prove it. Oh,

go ahead fella. Well? He's just a li..., just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. You

boneheaded donkey! That's it. I have heard enough. Guards! No, no, he talks, he does! I can talk. I

love to talk. I've talked to... Get her out of my sight! -No, no, I swear! Hey, I can fly. -He can fly! -He

can fly! He can talk! -That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey! You might have seen house

fly, maybe even a superfly. But I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly! Seize him! Get him! This way!

Hurry! You there. Ogre. -I. By the order of lord Farquaad. I am authorized to place you both under

arrest. And transport you to designated resettlement facility. Oh really? You and what army? Can I

say something to you? Listen, you were really, really something, back there. Incredible. Are you

talking to... ...me? Yes, I was talking to you. Can I just tell you that you were really great back there

with those guards. They thought that was all over there. And then you showed up and BAM. There

was tripping on over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that.

Oh, that's great. Really. Man, it's good to be free. Now, why don't you go celebrate your freedom

with your own friends? But I... I don't have any friends. And I'm not going out there by myself. Hey

wait a minute. I have a great idea... I'll stick with you. You and me in green fighting machine.

Together we'll scare the spin if anybody crosses us. Oh, a, that was really scary. Maybe you don't

mine me saying. If that don't work, your breath will certainly do the job done, 'cause... you

definitively need some tic-tac or something, 'cause your breath stinks! Man you've ??? my note!

Just like the time... ...and then I ate some rotten berries. Man I had some strong gases leaking out of

my but that day. Why are you following me? I'll tell you why. 'Cause I'm all alone, there is no one

here, beside me. My problems have all gone. There's no one to derive me. But you got to have

free ... -Stop singing! Well, it's no wonder, you don't have any friends. Wow! Only a true friend

would be that truly honest. Listen! Little donkey. Take a look at me! What am I? A... ...really tall? No!

I'm an Ogre. You know, grab your torch and pitchforks. Doesn't that bother you? Nope. Really?

-Really really. Oh? Man, I like you. What's your name? A..., Shrek. Shrek?! But do you know, what I

like about you, Shrek? You've got that kind of: "I don't care what nobody thinks of me" thing. I like

that, I respect that, Shrek. You're all right. Uh, look at that. Who would wanna live in a place like

that? That would be my home. Oh, it is lovely. Just beautiful. You know you're quite a decorator. It's

amazing what you did with such a modest budget. I like that boulder. That is a nice boulder. I guess,

you don't entertain much, do you? I like my privacy. You know I do to. That's another thing, we have

in common. Like I hate it when you got somebody in your face. You try to give them a hint and they

won't leave. And then there's that big occurred silence, you know? Can I stay with you? -What? Can

I stay with you, please. Of course! -Really? No. -Please! I don't want to go back there. You don't

how is like to be concerned like a freak. Well..., maybe you do. But that's why we have to stick

together! You got to let me stay! Please! Please! OK, OK. -But one night only. -Huh, thank you! A,

what are you do... No! This is going to be fun. We can stay up late, swap the manly stories. And in

the morning... I'm making waffles. Where do I sleep? Outside! Oh, a, I guess that's cool. You know, I

don't know you and you don't know me... ... so I guess, outside is best for me. Here I go. Good

night. I do like that half door. I'm a donkey all alone outside. Sit by myself outside, I guess. I'm all

alone, there's no one here beside me. -I thought, I told you to stay outside. -I am outside. Well

James. This is far from the farm, but what choice do we have? It's not... What a lovely bed. -Got

you! I found some cheese. Awful stuff. -Is that you Gordon? -How did you know? Enough! What are

you doing in my house? Oh, no, no, no... Death prods off the table! Where would we supposed to

put her. The bed's taken. What? I live in a swamp. I've put up signs. I'm a terrifying Ogre! What do I

have to do, to get a little privacy? Oh, no! No, no! What are you doing in my swamp? All right, get

out of here. All of you. Move it! Come on, let's go. And hurry up, hurry up. No, no, not there. Not

there! Hey don't look at me. I didn't invite them. Oh gosh, no one invited us. -What? We were forced

to come here. -By who? Lord Farquaad. He ??? All right. Who knows where this Farquaad guy is?

Oh I do. I know where he is. Does anyone else know where to find him? -Anyone at all? -Me.

-Anyone? Oh pick me, I know! Me, me. Ok, fine. Attention all fairy tale things! Do not get

comfortable. Your welcome is officially warned up. In fact. I'm gonna see this guy Farquaad right

now and get all off my land and back where you came from. You. You're coming with me. All right.

That's what I like to hear, man. Shrek and Donkey, two stubborn friends off on a world and big city

adventure. I love it. I'm on road again. Sing with me Shrek! I'm on road again... What did I say about

singing? -Can I whistle? -No. -Well, can I hummer? -All right. That's enough. He's ready to talk.

Run, run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man. You monster. I'm not

a monster here. You are. You and the rest of that fairytale trash, poisoning my perfect world. -Now

tell me! Where are the others? -Eat me. I've tried to be fair to you, creatures. Now my patience has

reached its end! -Tell me! Or I'll... -No, no, not the buttons. Not gumdrop buttons. All right! Who's

hiding them? Ok, I'll tell you. -Do you know the muffin-man? -The muffin-man? -The muffin-man.

-Yes, I know the muffin-man. Who lives on Proully lane? -Well, she's married to the muffin-man.

-The muffin-man! -The muffin-man! -She's married to the muffin-man. My lord! We found it. Well

then, what are you waiting for? Bring it in. Magic mirror. Don't tell him anything! Evening. Mirror,

mirror on the wall. Is this not the most perfect kingdom of them all? Well, technically, you're not a

king. A..., felonious. -You were saying. -What I mean is a... ...you're not a king, yet. But you can

become one. All you have to do, is marry a princess. Go on. So, just sit back and relax my lord,

because it's time for you to meet today's eligible bachelorettes. And here they are. Bachelorette

number one is a mentally abused shading from a kingdom far, far away. She likes sushi and

hottubbing anytime. Her hobbies include cooking and cleaning for two evil sisters. Please

welcome... Cinderella. Bachelorette number two is a kemp wearing girl from a land of fantasy.

Although she lives with seven other man, she is not easy. Just kiss hers dead frozen lips and find

out what a live wife she is. Come on. Give it up for... Show-white. And last but certainly not least.

Bachelorette number three is a fire-breathing ????, dragon guarded castle, surrounded by a hot

boiling lava. But don't let that cool you off. She's a loaded pistol who likes Pina Coladas and getting

cut in the rain. Yours for the rescuing, Princess Fiona. So will it be, bachelorette number one?

Bachelorette number two? Or bachelorette number three? -Two... -Three! -Two! One. No, no, no.

Three. Pick number three my lord. Ok, ok. Number three. Lord Farquaad. You've chosen... princess

Fiona. She's nice. Fiona. She's perfect. All I have to do is just find someone... But I probably should

mention little thing that happens at night... -I'll do it! -Yes, but after sunset... Silence! I will make this

princess Fiona my queen. And Duloc will finally have the perfect king! Captain! Assemble your finest

man. We're going to have a tournament! That's it, that's, right there, that's Duloc. I've told you I'll

find it. So. That must be lord Farquaad's castle. Aha, that's the place. Do you think maybe he's

compensating for something. Hey, hey wait up Shrek! -Hey, you! -No, no! Wait a second. Look, I'm

not gonna eat you. I just... It's quiet. Too quiet. Where is everybody? Hey look at this. Wow! -Let's

do that again. -No. no. All right. You're going the right way for smack bottom. Sorry about that. That

champion should have the honor, no, no... ...the privilege to go forth and rescue the lovely princess

Fiona from the fireing keep of the dragon. If for any reason the winner is unsuccessful, the first

runner up will take his place. And so on, and so forth. Some of you may die, but it's a sacrifice I'm

willing to make. Applause. Let the tournament begin. What is that? Ugh, it's hideous. Oh, that's not

very nice. It's just a donkey. Indeed. Knights! New plan. The one, who kills the Ogre, will be named

champion. How about him. Oh, hey. Now, come on. Can't we just settle this over a pint? No? All

right then. Come on. Hey Shrek! Let me, let me! The chair! Give him the chair! Thank you. Thank

you, very much. I'm here until Thursday. Try the wheel! Shall I give the order sir? No. I have a better

idea. People of Duloc. I give you our champion! What? Congratulation, Ogre. You've won the honor

of embarking on a great and noble quest. Quest? I'm already on a quest. A quest to get my swamp

back! -Your swamp? -Yeah, my swamp! Where you dumped those fairytale creatures. Indeed. All

right Ogre, I'll make you a deal. Go on this quest for me and I'll give you your swamp back. Exactly

the way it was? Down to the last slime covered toast tool. -And the squatters? -As good as gone.

What kind of quest? Ok, let me get this straight! We gonna go find the dragon and rescue a princess

just so Farquaad will give you back the swamp, which you only don't have, 'cause he filled it with

full of freaks on the first place. -Is that about right? -You know what? Maybe there is a good reason,

donkeys shouldn't talk. I don't get it Shrek. Why didn't you just pull some old Ogre stuff on them?

You know, ??? . Grab his bones to make you brave. You know the whole Ogre trick. Oh, you know

what. Maybe I could have decapitated entire village and put their heads on plate. Got a knife, cut

open their spleens and drink their fluids. Does that sound good to you? A, no, not really, no. For

your information, there is a lot more to Ogres than people think. -Example. -Example? OK, A-a-m,

Ogres are like onions. -They stink? -Yes, no. -O, they make you cry. -No. Oh, you leave them out on

the sun and they get all brown and start ??? little wild hairs? No! Layers! Onions have layers. Ogres

have layers. Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers. O, you both have layers. You

know not everybody likes onions. Cake! Everybody loves cakes. Cakes have layers. I don't care

what everyone likes. Ogres are not like cakes. You know what else everyone likes? Paffe. Have you

ever met a person and you say: "Hey, let's get some paffe" and they say I don't like paffe. Paffe is

delicious. No! You tensed, irritating, miniature peace of barden. Ogres are like onions. End of story.

Bye, bye. See you lather. Paffe is maybe the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet. You

know I think I've preferred your humming. Do you have a tissue or something, 'cause I'm making a

mess. Just the word paffe has made me start slimying Why, Shrek, did you do that? Man you got to

warn somebody before you just crack one off. My mouth was opened and everything. Believe me

donkey, if it was me, you'd be dead. It's brimstone. We must be getting close. Yeah, right,

brimstone. Don't be talking ??? brimstone. I know what I smell and ??? no brimstone. And they

don't come of stone neither. Sure it's big enough, but look at the location. Oh, Shrek, remember

when you said that Ogres have layers? Oh, yeah. Well, I have a confession to make. Donkeys don't

have layers. We wear ??? sleeves. Wait a second. Donkeys don't have sleeves. -You know what I

mean. -Oh, you can't tell me you're afraid of highs. No, I'm just a little uncomfortable of being on a

rickety bridge over boiling lake of lava! Come on donkey, I'm right here beside you. Ok? For

emotional support. We'll just hackle this thing together one little baby step after time. -Really?

-Really really. Ok. That makes me feel so much better. Just keep moving and don't look down.

Don't look down, don't look down. Shrek! I'm looking down! I can't do this. Just let me off right now,

please. -But you're already half way. -Yeah, but I know that half is safe. Ok, fine. I don't have time

for this. You go back. Shrek, no, wait. Don't do that! Oh, I'm sorry. Do what? -Oh. This? -Yes, that!

Yes, yes. Do it. OK. -No, Shrek! -I'm doing it. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. Shrek, I'm gonna die.

That will do Donkey, that will do. Cool. So where is this fire breathing pain in the neck anyway?

Inside. Waiting for us to rescue her. I was talking about the dragon Shrek. -Are you afraid? -No, but

shhhhh. Oh, good. Me neither. Because there's nothing wrong with being afraid. Here's a...,

something responsible of the situation. Not to mention dangerous situation. And there's dragon that

breathes fire. I'm sure he's meaner than a cow or anything, but they're scare. You know what I

mean. I'm sure he's heavier than a cow... Donkey. Two things. Ok? Shut, up. Now go over there and

see if you can find any stairs. Stairs? I thought we were looking for the princess. The princess will be

up the stairs in the highest room in the tallest tower. What makes you think she'll be there? I read it

in a book once. Cool. You handle the dragon, I'll handle the stairs. Oh, I'll find those stairs. I'll ???.

That's right. Those stairs won't know which way they go. The drafting stairs, ??? Don't mess with

me. I'm the stair master. I'm master of the stairs. I wish I had a stair right here right here now, I'd

step all over it. Well, at least we know where the princess is. -But where is the... -Dragon! Donkey,

look out! Got you. Oh, what large teeth you have. I mean, white sparkling teeth. You probably hear

this all the time from your food, but you must bleach yourself, because that is one dashing smile you

got there. And do I detect the hint of minty freshness? And you know what else? You're a girl

dragon. Oh, sure. I mean 'course you're a girl dragon, 'cause you're just ricking the feminine beauty

out. What's the matter with you? Do you have something in your eye? Man, I'd really love to stay,

but you know I'm a asthmatic and I don't know if we would worked out. You'd be blowing smoke

and stuff. Shrek! No, Shrek! Shrek! -Wake up! -What? Are you princess Fiona? I am. Awaiting a

knight so bold as to rescue me. Oh, that's nice. Now let's go. But wait, sir knight. This be our first

meeting. Should not be wonderful, romantic moment? Yeah. Sorry lady there's no time. Hey, what

are you doing? You know, you should sweep me out of my feet. Out through the window and down

the rope by to your valued steed. You've had a lot of time to plan this, haven't you? Uh-um. But we

have to sing through this moment. You can residing of a poem to me. A ballad, a sonnet, a libretti.

Or something. I don't think so. Well, can I at least know a name of my champion? Shrek. So, Shrek.

I pray that you take this favor as a token of my gratitude. Thanks. -You didn't slay the dragon? -It's

not my job to do this. Now, come on! But this isn't right. ??? That's what all the other knights did.

Yeah. Right before they burst in the flame. That's not the point. Wait. Where are you going? Exit is

over there. Well, I have to save my ass. What kind of knight are you? One of a kind. ...rush into a

physical relationship. I'm not that emotionally ready for commitment of a this magnitude. That was

the word I was looking for. Magnitude. Hey, that is unwanted physical contact. Hey, what are you

doing? Ok, ok, let's just back up a little and take this one step at the time. I mean, we really should

get to know each other first, you know what am I saying. As friends, maybe even as ??? Hey don't

do that. That's my tail. That's ma personal tail. And you're going to tear it off.... Oh, no. No! -It

talks?! -Yeah. It's getting to shut up, that's a trick. Ok, you two. Head for the exit. I'll take care of the

dragon. Ruuuuun! You did it. You rescued me. Amizing, you're wonderful. You're a ... ...a little

unorthodox I admit, but by deed is great and by heart is pure. I'm entirely in your debt. And where

would a brave knight be without his noble steed. I hope you heard that. She called me a noble

steed. She thinks I'm a steed. The battle is won. You may remove your helmet good sir knight. -Aah,

no. -Why not? I have helmet hair. Please. I wouldst look upon the face of my rescuer. Oh, no, you

wouldn't, dust. But, how will you kiss me? What? That wasn't in a job description. -Maybe it's a

perk? -No. It's destiny. You must know how it goes. A princess locked in a tower and besieged by a

dragon is rescued by a brave knight. And then they share true love's first kiss. With Shrek? You

think, wait... ...you think Shrek is your true love? Well, yes. You think that Shrek is your true love.

What is so funny? Let's just say, I'm not your type, ok? Of course you are. You're my rescuer. Now,

now remove your helmet. Look. I really don't think this is a good idea. -Just take off the helmet. -I'm

not going to. -Take it off! -No! -Now! -Ok, easy. As you command your highness. You're an Ogre.

Oh, you were expecting Prince Charming. Well, yes, actually. Oh no. This is all wrong. You're not

supposed to be an Ogre. Princess, I was sent to rescue you by lord Farquaad, ok? He's the one,

who wants to marry you. Well, then why didn't he come to rescue me? Good question. You should

ask him that, when we get there. But I have to be rescued by my true love. Not by some Ogre and

his pet. Well so much for noble steed. Look princess. You're not making my job any easier. Well I'm

sorry, but your job is not my problem. You can tell lord Farquaad that if he wants to rescue me

properly, I'll be waiting for him right here. Hey, I'm no ones messenger boy, all right? -I'm a delivery

boy. -You wouldn't dare. -You coming donkey? -Put me down! Yeah, I'm right behind you. Put me

down or you will suffer the consequences. This is not dignified. Put me down. Ok, here's another

question. Let's say that a woman 'digged' you, but you don't really like her, that way. Now, how you

let her down real easy, so her feelings aren't hurt? But you don't get burned to a crisp neither. How

do you do this? Just tell her, she's not your true love. Everyone knows it what happens when you

find... Hey! The sooner we get to Duloc, the better. Oh, yeah. You gonna love it there princess. It's

beautiful. And what of my groom to be, lord Farquaad. What's he like? Well, let me put it this way,

princess. Men of Farquaad's stature are in short supply. Oh no, Shrek. There are those who think

little of him. Stop it. Stop it, both of you. You know, you're just jealous that you can never measure

up to a great ruler like lord Farquaad. Yeah. Well maybe you're right princess. But I'd like you do

that measuring when you see him tomorrow Tomorrow? It will take that long? -Shouldn't we stop to

make camp? -No. That would take longer. We can keep going. But there are robbers in the woods.

Whoa, time out Shrek. Camp is definitely something that sounds good. Hey. Come on. I'm scarier

than anything we're gonna see in this forest. I need to find somewhere to camp, now! Hey, over

here. Shrek, we can do better than that. Now, I don't think this is decent for princess. No, no, it's

perfect. It just needs a few homey touches. Homey touches? Like what? A door. Well, gentleman I'll

be d..., good night. Do you want me to come in and read you a bedtime story, 'cause I will... I said

good night! Shrek! What are you doing? I just..., you know... Oh, come on, I was just kidding. And

that one, that's Throwback. The only Ogre to ever spit over three wheat fields. Right. Yeah. Hey, can

you tell my future form these stars? Well, the stars don't tell the future, Donkey. They tell stories.

Look. There's Blodna, the "Flatulent" You can guess what he is famous for. All right. Now I know

you're making this up. No. Look. There he is and there's the group of hunters running away from his

stag. Man, there ain't nothing, but a bunch of little dots. You know donkey, sometimes things are

more than they appear. Forget it. Hey Shrek. What are you gonna do when we get our swamp back,

anyway? -Our swamp? -You know. When we're through rescuing the princess and all that stuff.

We? Donkey, there is no we. There's no our. There's just me and my swamp. And the first thing I'm

gonna do, is build a ten foot wall around my land. You cut me deep Shrek, you cut me real deep just

now. You know, what I think? I think this whole wall thing is just a way to keep somebody out. No,

do you think? -Are you hiding something? -Never mind Donkey. Oh, this is another one of those

onion things, isn't it? No. This is one of those drop it and leave it alone things. -Why don't you want

to talk about it? -Why do you want to talk about it? -Oh, Why you block? -I'm not blocking. -Oh yes

you are. -Donkey, I'm warning you. -Who are you trying to keep out? Just tell me that Shrek. Who?

Everyone, ok? -Oh, now we're getting somewhere. -Oh, for 'the love of pit'. Hey, what's your

problem Shrek? What do you got against the whole world anyway? Look. I'm not the one with the

problem, ok? It's the world that seems to have a problem with me. People take one look at me and

go: AAA... Help! Run! A big stupid ugly Ogre. They judge me, before they even know me. That's why

I'm better off alone. You know what? When we met, I didn't think you're just a big stupid, ugly Ogre.

Yeah, I know. So, a... Are there any donkeys up there? Well, there's a Cabby. The small and

annoying. Ok, ok. I see him, now. Big shining one, right there. That one, over there? That's the

moon. Again. Show me again. Mirror, mirror, show her to me. Show me the princess. Perfect. Yeah.

You know I like like that. Oh come on baby... -Donkey. Wake up. -What? -Wake up. Morning. How

do you like your eggs? -Good morning princess. -What's all this about? You know, we kind of got of

to a bad start yesterday and I wanted to make it up to you. I mean, after all, you did rescue me.

Thanks. Well, eat up. We've got a big day ahead of us. -Shrek! -What? It's a compliment. Better out

than in I always say. But that's no way to behave in front of a princess. -Thanks. -She's as nasty as

you are. You know. You're not exactly what I've expected. Well, maybe you shouldn't judge people

before you get to know them. Princess! What are you doing? ???mon shery, for I am your saviour.

And I am rescuing you from this green...beast. Hey! That's my princess. Go find your own. Please,

monster. Can't you see I'm a little busy here? Look, pal. I don't know who you think you are. Oh, of

course. How rude that was. Please, let me introduce myself. Oh marry men! Man, that was

annoying. Oh, you little... Shall we? ???all the forin??? Whoa, hold on, now. Where did that come

from? -What? -That. Back there. That was amazing. Where did you learn that? Well, when one lives

alone one has to learn these things in case there's a... There is an arrow in your butt. What? Oh,

would you look at that. Oh, no... This is all my fault. I'm so sorry. -What's wrong? -Shrek's hurt.

-Shrek's hurt? Shrek's hurt! -Oh, no. Shrek's going to die. -Donkey, I'm ok. You can't do this to me

Shrek. I'm too young for you to die. Keep your legs elevated. Turn your head ???. -Does anyone

know how to handle... -Donkey! Calm down. If you want to help Shrek, run into woods and find me

a blue flower with red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Ok, I'm on it. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue

flower, red thorns. Don't die Shrek. And if you see a long tunnel, stay away from the light! -Donkey!

-Oh, yeah. Right. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. -What are the flowers for? -For

getting rid of the Donkey. Now, you hold still and I'll yank this thing out. -Hey! Easy with the yanking.

-I'm sorry, but it has to come out. No, no. It's tender. What you're doing here is the opposite...

-Don't move. -Ok, look. Time out. -Would you... Ok. What do you propose we do? Blue flower, red

thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. This would be so much easier if I wasn't

colorblind. Blue flower, red thorns. Blue flower, red thorns. Hold on, Shrek. I'm coming! Not good.

Ok, ok, I can lose it. It's just about it. Nothing happened. We were just a... Look if you want to be

alone, all you had to do is ask, ok? Oh, come on. That's the last thing on my mind. The princess

here was just... Au! Hey, what's that? Is that... There it is, princess. -Your future awaits you. -That's

Duloc? Yeah. I know. You'll shrink things lord Farquaad is compensating for something, which I

think needs, he has a I guess we better move on. Sure, but Shrek... -I'm worried about Donkey.

-What? I mean. Look at him. He doesn't look so good. -What are you talking about? I'm fine. -Well,

that's what they always say. And the next thing you know you're on your back. -Dead! -You know

she's right. You look awful. -Do you want to sit down? -You know, I'll make you up some tea. Well, I

won't say nothing, but I've got this twinge in my neck. And if I turn my neck like this, look. Au, see?

-He's hungry. I'll find us some dinner. -I'll get the firewood. Hey, where are you going? Oh man, I

can't feel my thumbs. I don't have any thumbs!!! I think I need a hug. This is good. This is really

good. -What is this? -Wheat rat. -Rotisserie style. -No kidding. -Oh, this is delicious. -Well, they also

great in stews. Now, I don't mean to brag, but I make a mean wheat rat stew. I guess I'll be dining a

little different late tomorrow night. Maybe you can come visit me in the swamp sometime. I'll cook

all kinds of stuff for you. Swamp toast, soup fish, eye tartar. You name it. I'd like that. -Ah... ,

princess? -Yes, Shrek? I'm a.... I was wondering. Are you... a... Are you gonna eat that? Man, isn't

this romantic. Just look at that sunset. Sunset?! Oh, no. It's late. It's very late. -What? -Wait a

minute. I see what's going on here. You're afraid of the dark. Aren't you? Yes, yes. That's it. That's,

I'm terrified. You know I'll better go inside. But don't feel bad, princess. I used to be afraid of the

dark too. Until... Hey, no, wait. I'm still afraid of the dark. -Good night. -Good night. Ahh. Now I

really see what's going on here. Oh, what are you talking about. Hey I don't wanna even hear. Look,

I'm an animal and I got instincts. And I know that you two are digging on each other. I can feel it.

Oh, you're crazy. I'm just bringing her back to Farquaad. Oh, come on, Shrek. Wake up and smell

the fairemones. Just go in there and tell her how you feel. There's nothing to tell. Besides, even if I

did tell her that... well you know. I'm not saying that I do, 'cause I don't. She's a princess and

I'm... ...an Ogre. Yeah, an Ogre. -Hey, where are you going? -To get more firewood. Princess.

Princess Fiona? Princess, where are you? Princess? It's very spooky in here and are we playing little

games. -No, no. -Help! Shrek! Shrek! -No. -Shrek! -It's ok. It's ok. -What did you do with the

princess? -Donkey, shhh. I'm the princess. -It's me, in this body. -Oh my god. You ate the princess.

-Can you hear me? -Donkey! Listen, keep breathing. I'll get you out of there! Shrek! Shrek! Shrek!

This is me. Princess? What happened to you? You're a... different. -I'm ugly, ok? -Yeah. Was it

something that you ate? 'Cause I told Shrek those rats were a bad idea. -You are what you eat, I

say. -No. I've been this way as long as I can remember. What do you mean? Look, I've never seen

you like this before. It only happens when the sun goes down. By night one way, by day another.

This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss. Then, take love's true form... -Oh, that's

beautiful. I didn't know you wrote poetry. -It's the spell. When I was a little girl, a witch cast a spell

on me. Every night I become this. This horrible ugly beast. I was placed in a tower to await the day

when my true love would rescue me. That's why I have to marry lord Farquaad tomorrow, before the

sun sets and he sees me, like this? All right, all right. Calm down. Look, it's not that bad. You're not

that ugly. Wait, wait, I'll not lie, you are ugly. But you only look like this at night. Shrek's ugly 24/7.

But Donkey, I'm a princess. And this is not how a princess is meant to look. Princess. How about if

you don't marry Farquaad? I have to. Only my true love's kiss can brake the spell. But you know,

you're kind of an Ogre. And Shrek... Well you've got a lot in common. Shrek? Princess, I... How is it

going first of all? Good? Good for me to. I'm ok. I saw this flower and thought of you because it's

pretty. And, well, I don't really like it, but I thought you may like it, because you're pretty. But I like

you anyway. A.... I'm in trouble. Ok, here we go. Who could ever love a piece so hideous and ugly?

Princess and ugly don't go together. That's why I can't stay here with Shrek, but only chance to live

happily ever after is to marry my true love. Don't you see, Donkey? That's just how it has to be. It's

the only way to break the spell. Well, at least you've got tell Shrek the truth. No, no. You can't

breathe the word. No one must ever know. What's the point of being unable to talk? You got to

keep secrets. Promise you won't tell. Promise! You know, before this is over, I'm going to need

whole lot of serious therapies. All right, all right. I won't tell him. But you should. Look at my eye

twitching. I tell him, I tell him not. I tell him. I tell him not. I tell him! Shrek! Shrek! There's something I

want ... Shrek. Are you all right? Perfect. Never been better. I... There's something I have to tell you.

You don't have to tell me anything, princess. I heard enough last night. -You've heard what I said?

-Every word. I thought you'd understand? Oh, I understand! Like you said, who could love a

hideous, ugly beast! -I thought that wouldn't matter to you. -Yeah, well, it does. Ah, right on time.

Princess. I brought you a little something. What I missed? What I missed? -Princess Fiona. -As

promised. Now hand it over. Very well, Ogre. The deed to your swamp. Cleared out as agreed. Take

it and go. Before I change my mind. Forgive me princess for startling you, but you startled me. For

I've never seen such a radiant beauty before. -I am lord Farquaad. -Lord Farquaad? Oh, no, no...

forgive me my lord for I was just saying short... farewell. Oh. That is so sweet. You don't have to

raise good manners on the Ogre. -It's not like it has feelings. -No. You're right. It doesn't. Princess

Fiona, beautiful fair flawless Fiona, I ask your hand in marriage. Will you be the perfect bride for the

perfect groom? Lord Farquaad, I accept. Nothing would make... Excellent! I'll start the plans for

tomorrow we wedd... No! I mean I... Why wait? Let's get married today. Before sunset. Oh, anxious

are we? You're right. The sooner, the better. There's so much to do. There is the camera, the cake,

the band, the guests... Captain! Round up some guests. Farewell Ogre. Shrek, what are you doing?

You let her get away. -Yeah, so what. -Shrek. There's something about her that you don't know. -I

talked to her last night. She's... -Yeah I know you talked to her last night. You're great pal, aren't

you? Now, if you two are such good friend, why didn't you follow her home? -Shrek. I want to go

with you. -I told you, didn't I? You're not coming home with me. I live alone. My swamp, me and

nobody else! Understand? Nobody! Especially useless, pathetic, annoying, talking donkeys! -But. I

thought... -Yeah. You know what? You thought wrong. Shrek. Donkey? What are you doing? I was

thinking of all the people, you would recognize a wall when you see one. Well, yeah. But the wall

supposed to go around my swamp. Not through it. It is around your half. See? That's your half and

this is my half. Oh, your half? Yes, my half. I helped rescue the princess. I did half the work. I get

half the booty. Now hand me that big old rock, the one that looks like your head -Back off! -No. You

back off! -This is my swamp. -Our swamp. -Let go, Donkey! -You let go! -Stubborn jackass. -Smelly

Ogre. Fine! Hey, hey, come back here. I'm not through with you, yet. -Well, I'm through with you!

-Well, you know. You were always me, me, me. Well, guess what? Now it's my turn! So you just

shut up and pay attention! You are mean to me, you insult me, you don't appreciate anything that I

do! You're always pushing me around or pushing me away. Oh, yeah? Well, if I treated you so bad,

how come you came back? Because that's what friend do. They forgive each other! Oh, yeah.

You're right Donkey. I forgive you for stabbing me in the back! You're so wrapped up in layers,

onion boy. You're afraid of your own feelings. -Go away. -See? There you are, doing it again. Just

like you did it to Fiona. And all she ever do, was like you. Maybe even love you. Love me? She said I

was ugly! A hideous creature. -I heard that you two were talking. -She wasn't talking about you. She

was talking about... ...somebody else. She wasn't talking about me? Well then, who was she talking

about? No way, I'm not saying anything. You won't listen to me, right? Right? -Donkey. -No! Ok,

look. I'm sorry, all right? I'm sorry. I guess I am just a big stupid, ugly Ogre. Can you forgive me?

-Hey, that's the friends are for, right? -Right. -Friends? -Friends. So? What did Fiona said about

me? Why are you asking me for? Why don't you just go ask her. The wedding! We'll never make it in

time! Never fear! For where there is a will, there is a way. And I have I way. Donkey? -I guess this is

just my act of magnetism. -Oh, come here, you. All right. All right. Don't get all started. No one likes

kissass. All right, hop on. Hold on tight. I hadn't have a chance to install seat belts, yet. People of

Duloc. We gather here today to bear witness to reunion of our new king... Excuse me. Could you

just skip ahead to "I do's"? Go on. Go ahead and have some fun, if we need you, I'll whistle. How

about that? Shrek, wait, wait a minute. You want to do this right, don't you? -What are you talking

about? -It's the line, it's the line you got to wait for. The priest is going to say: "Speak now or forever

hold your peace". And that's where you say: "I object". -I don't have time for this. -Wait, wait. What

are you doing? Listen to me! Look, you love this woman, don't you? -Yes. -You want to hold her!

-Yes. -Please her! -Yes! Then you got to, got to try a little tender love. -The chicks love that romantic

crap. -All right. Cut it out. When does this guy say the line? We got to check it out. And as so by the

power of these two... What do you see? -I now pronounce you... -There they go! -...he all ready said

it. -Oh, for 'the love of pit'. I object! Shrek? Oh, now what does he want? Hi, everyone. Having a

good time, aren't you? I love Duloc, first of all. Very clean. -What are you doing here? -Really, it's

rude enough being alive, when no one wants you. But showing up uninvited to a wedding... -Fiona! I

need to talk to you. -Oh, now you wanna talk? Well it's a little late for that. So if you'll excuse me.

-But you can't marry him! -And why not? Because, because he's just marrying you so he can be

king. -Outrageous! Fiona, don't listen to him. -He's not your true love. -What do you know about

true love? -Well, I ...I'm in... Oh, this is precious. The Ogre has fallen in love with the princess.

Laugh. Shrek. Is this true? Who cares. It's preposterious. Fiona, my love, we gonna kiss away for

our happily ever after. Now kiss me! By night one way, by day another. I wanted to show you before.

Well. That explains a lot. Oh. It's disgusting. Guards, guards. I order you to get them out of my sight.

-Now! Get them! Get them, both! -No! This marriage is minding, and that makes me king. See? See?

-Shrek! -No. -Don't just stand there, you dogs. -Get out of my way. No! Shrek! -And as for you my

wife. -Fiona! I'll have you locked back in that tower for the rest of your days! I will have order. I will

have potential. I will have... All right, nobody move! I got a dragon here and I'm not afraid to use it.

I'm a donkey on the edge! Celebrity marriages. They never last, do they? Go ahead Shrek. -Fiona?

-Yes, Shrek? I love you. Really? Really, really. I love you too. A time for true love's first kiss... Fiona?

Fiona? Are you all right? Yes. But I don't understand. I'm supposed to be beautiful. But you are

beautiful. I was hoping this would be a happy ending. God bless us, everyone

This is a lovely letter you wrote!

What a beautiful story!!!

[vodika-vibes]

Hi Vod'ika! Congratulations for the followers!

An idea au medieval + mystic au: the jedi are sorcerers, the sith idk warlocks and the kaminoans alchemists who made the clones as mythical "extint" beings (unicorns, dragons, basilisks, rocs, kelpies, thunderbirds, griffins, amphithere, cerberus, phoenixes cofcofnobodydiesinmydreamlandactuallyallarephoenixesaucofcof, pick your poison, etc). So much races there is NOT almost two clones of the same races and they have to teach themselves about their "tics", soul/mates, powers.

...Actually all this was coming to ask you something romantic diabetic angsty soulmatey loveyoubutdontwannahurtyou maybe smutty with some commander but. chop. I let myself happy in the chimerical knighty knights angsty tall dark handsome beings and its 5am I've been awake for more than 32 hours and I wanted to share the idea.

Immortal Flames

Summary: Your life has always been rather…normal. Average, even. You go to school, you go to your internship, you go home, and that’s it. The only thing special about you is how average you are. And yet, three years ago, you were kidnapped from your life by a Sorcerer who calls himself Sideous. And you’ve been his prisoner ever since. Luckily, you’re not alone here.

Pairing: Commander Thire x F!Reader

Word Count: 2407

Warnings: Spice, suggestive

Prompts: Mystic AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: So I didn't follow your prompt to the letter, but I think I'm happy with how it turned out. I hope you like it too!

Over the last three years, you’ve learned how to view your cell as your home. When you first arrived, the room had a bed, a wardrobe, and an attached bathroom and that was it.

Since then, you’ve managed to gather things to make your cell more homey.

Books about the world that you live in now. Broken trinkets that you pulled from the trash and repaired to use as decoration. Maps of this new world. Some plants that had been tossed for not thriving, but seem to be doing well enough under your care.

You’re not happy.

You can’t even claim to be content.

But you’re okay.

Well, as okay as you can be seeing as you were kidnapped and enslaved by a sorcerer.

Absently, you flip through one of your many books. Carefully, because the pages are falling out, and have been since you found it, you flip to the section dedicated to the variety of magical creatures that are common.

Phoenixes, Dragons, Harpies, Selkies—

Creatures you never thought existed, and yet, over the last three years, you’ve met all of them.

In fact, you even work with some of them.

Marshal Commander Fox is a dragon, though he rarely takes his true form. He can’t due to the cold iron manacle wrapped around his wrist. He told you that it traps him in his human form.

Commander Thorn is a Selkie, or so he told you with a wry little smile. He also admitted that Palpatine stole his coat to keep him in his human form, claiming that his selkie form wasn’t useful enough.

Commander Stone is a Harpy. His wings are stunning, longer than you are tall (and while you’re no Amazonian, you’re not petite either), and the most stunning tawny color. Tragically, his wings are clipped on a bi-weekly basis so he can’t fly away.

You asked him, once, if having his wings clipped hurt, and he just smiled at you and tugged on your bangs, without answering.

Which, really, is an answer in and of itself.

And finally is Commander Thire, a phoenix. Like Fox, he’s stuck wearing a manacle keeping him from transforming. Unlike Fox, however, there are some aspects to Thire that are clearly magical.

Like his eyes, which alternate between vibrant orange and glittering gold, depending on his mood. And the way that he’s always warm.

You’re not ashamed to admit that you’re closer to Thire than you are to the others, largely because he doesn’t look at you with pity. Fox always looks guilty when he sees you, Thorn and Stone look at you like they’re at your funeral.

It doesn’t make for an easy friendship, to put it mildly.

You look up from your book when there’s a knock on your door, and then it swings open. A small smile lifts your lips when you see Thire standing in the doorway.

“Morning, cyar’ika,” He says cheerfully, his golden eyes shifting to a flickering orange color. 

“It’s not morning, Thire.” You reply as you close your book to slide it back into its place on the rough-looking shelf, and then get to your feet, “You just got stuck working nights, so your sense of time is skewed.”

“I prefer working nights, it means I don’t have to deal with anyone.” He steps into your home and shuts the door behind him. Absently he flips the lock.

After a year of your imprisonment here, you were allowed some modicum of freedom, in the sense that you are no longer locked in your cell at night, and you have the right to lock the door when you want to sleep.

You’re grateful for the privacy, even if everything else sucks.

Thire walks over to you, pausing only long enough to set his helmet on the table, and he slides his arms around you in a loose hug. He rests his chin on the top of your head and you slide your arms around his waist.

“How was your day, cyare?” He asks.

You press your cheek against his chest plate, able to feel the warmth of him even through the metal, and you shrug. “Uneventful, I guess. Dooku was here, and you know how exacting he is.”

Thire’s arms tighten around you slightly, “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Palpatine would never allow it, you know I’m his most prized possession.” There’s a hint of sarcasm in your voice, but you’re completely serious. Palpatine’s acquisition of you involved a, seemingly impossible, feat of magic.

After all, how else would he have been able to kidnap a college student from Manhattan, when Manhattan doesn’t exist in this world?

Thire sighs and you feel his lips press against the top of your head, “You’re not a possession.”

“He disagrees.”

“Yeah, well. Palpatine can take his opinion, and shove it up his—”

“Thire!”

You feel his chuckle, and he pulls away so he’s able to look at you. There’s something soft on his face, and, when he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, you lean into his touch.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask.

“Like what? This is how I always look at you.”

“Is not,”

“Is too.”

Slowly Thire leans in and bumps his forehead against yours, and his free hand moves to cradle your cheek as well.

“Thire?”

“I promise,” He murmurs, “I will get you out of this.”

You blink at him, honestly surprised, and then you sigh and press your hands over his, “I don’t want to go anywhere without you and the others, Thire.”

He sighs, and his breath fans across your face, “Cyare,”

“I have no idea how to survive in this world, Thire. I need you.”

His eyes close, and a laugh, almost helpless sounding, falls from him. “We have so many brothers who can help you. Who can take care of you—” He tries.

“No. I want you. Only you.”

You’re surprised when you see his eyes change color, speeding through a wide variety of colors before settling on a vibrant blue. Vaguely, you remember your old science teacher telling you that a blue flame is one of the hottest flames out there. 

“Thire? Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re eyes turned blue,”

He looks surprised for a moment, and then he lightly bumps his nose against yours, “That makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah,” His smile is still soft, “It does.” His thumbs smooth against your cheeks, and he scans your face for a moment, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”

Your face heats, and you avert your gaze shyly, “I’m not sure why, I’m just me.”

“Just you is just perfect.” Thire murmurs, he gently pulls your gaze back to him. Quickly, he glances at the clock sitting on the desk next to his helmet, and then he leans in and catches your lips in a soft, almost chaste, kiss. 

You lean into the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as he breaks the kiss, and then dives right back in to kiss you again and again.

“Let me love you, cyare.”

And, really, how could you say anything other than yes?

Every touch of his hands against you is reverent. Thire slides your clothes off and drops them to the side, his gaze never leaving your face, as if he doesn’t want to see anything other than the look on your face.

When he drags his lips down your throat, he whispers how much he loves you, how much he wants you to be his.

When he lays you down in your bed and positions himself over you, and you thread your fingers through his hair to pull him closer, he kisses you as if he needs you to forget everything that isn’t him.

And when you’re both bare and he’s easing himself inside you, and you gasp out that you love him and never want to leave him, he smiles at you and threads your fingers with his own. 

He keeps himself flush against you, not leaving any space at all, as he breaks you down and remakes you, over and over.

At the end of the night, as he spills his release deep inside you, and gasps out his love for you against your lips, there’s a minor burning in your wrist, where yours is pressed against his.

The birth of your soul mark, a golden phoenix taking flight.

Thire has an identical mark on his wrist. And, even blissed out as he is, there’s no mistaking the look of guilt on his handsome face.

But before you can ask him what’s wrong, he kisses you and tells you that he loves you, and soothes you to sleep with the gentlest touch of his magic.

The last thing you hear before you fall asleep is Thire’s voice, “I love you so much, cyare. And I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

Commander Wolffe has been having a bad time over the last five years.

First, there is the problem of the war. Second, there’s the fact that his twin, and several younger brothers, have vanished and no one knows where they are. Third, there’s the fact that there was a strange surge of magic three years ago that, apparently, still hasn’t caused anything.

Needless to say, Wolffe has been in a perpetual bad mood for a while now.

“Hm,” He glances at his General, a Wizard named Plo Koon, who seems to be watching the forest around them with no small amount of interest, “Commander, I think we are going to stop here.”

“Here? Why?” Wolffe asks. 

“I have a feeling that this is where we need to be.”

Honestly, Wolffe just wants to go home and see what, if anything, Cody has learned about Fox, but he’s not about to go against his General. “Fine. I’m going for a walk before I bite someone’s head off.”

“Of course, Commander.” General Koon replies kindly, before he turns to another one of his brothers, Comet, probably. Based on the minor sensation of static that makes his hair stand on end.

Wolffe shakes his head and heads into the forest, following the scent of fresh water. If nothing else, he can soak his sore feet in the water.

He slows to a stop as he approaches the lake.

A woman is kneeling next to the water, and though the water almost drowns out all noises, Wolffe can hear her sniffling and her muffled sobs.

He takes a step closer, his sharp gaze taking her in. 

Her feet are bare, though he can’t smell any blood, so she’s either been careful to avoid briars and rocks, or she hasn’t been out here long. Her skirt does have dust on it, but no mud, so she couldn’t have been out here for more than a night.

It rained two nights ago.

The wind shifts, blowing her scent right into his face, and Wolffe freezes. 

She smells like Thire and, more faintly, like Fox, Stone, and Thorn.

He moves to approach her but carelessly steps on a branch, causing it to snap under his boot, and she whirls around. Her eyes are wide with terror and rimmed red, and there are tear stains on her face.

She scrambles to her feet and backs away from him.

And Wolffe sees, clear as day, that if he lets her run off he’s never going to see his twin again.

“Wait! Wait, wait.” He holds his hands up, showing that he’s unarmed, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Now that she’s standing, Wolffe can see clear signs that she must have been a slave somewhere. That, or she was a hostage. It would explain her terror.

She takes a step back, her eyes darting from one side to the other.

Wolffe holds his hands out, and then slowly, without taking his eyes off her, tugs his helmet off. “My name is Wolffe, I think you know some of my brothers.”

Her lower lip wobbles and her tears return with a vengeance.

Kriff.

“It’s alright. Everything is going to be alright. I promise.” Wolffe says as he approaches her, and thankfully, this time, she doesn’t run.

Quickly, he ushers her back to the camp and all but shoves her on General Koon, who is much better equipped at dealing with emotional women, especially emotional, traumatized women, and he makes a tactical retreat.

Later, several hours later, after the woman was tended to, and was allowed to tell her story to General Koon, Wolffe returned to his General’s tent.

The woman is asleep on a spare cot, bundled up in several different blankets, with her soul mark clearly displayed on her wrist.

General Koon gazes at the slumbering woman for a moment, and then gently ushers Wolffe out of the tent. They say nothing for a time, and then General Koon looks at him, “Do you remember the burst of magic three years ago?”

“Of course. But it didn’t seem to do anything.”

“The magic brought her here, to this world.” General Koon says quietly, “She won’t tell me her name, but she said that she’ll tell us what she can about the man who kidnapped her.”

Wolffe is quiet for a moment, “And my brothers?”

“According to her, they’re being held together. She thinks that they worked together to get her out.”

“Why?”

General Koon is quiet for a moment, “Thire is a phoenix, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You saw the marking on her wrist.”

Wolffe exhales slowly. Her being Thire’s chosen soul mate would encourage them to help her escape. Only—

“She was crying.”

“Yes. Thire used magic to make her sleep and then smuggled her out. She’s rather upset about it. Enough that she won’t talk about it.”

“She’ll help us get them back?”

“I think that nothing would make her happier.” General Koon pauses for a moment, “I need you to send word to the Council. Tell them about what we found and what she’s willing to discuss with us.”

“Yes, sir.”

General Koon nods once, “I have to go back to watching over her. She’s been a slave for the last three years and isn’t from this world. She’s going to need help.”

Wolffe watches his General retreat into the tent, and then he turns to send word to Cody. For the first time in years, he has hope that he might see his twin again.

[leafonground]

watched mirai days episode 7. GIANT yap-fest inbound. spoilers, obviously.

so airu didnt actually go back in time. he just got his time erased. he's living it up inside the stupid statue. cool. so he's liable to come back at any minute. thats gonna suck (read: be awesome BUT I HATE HIM GRR)

those flashbacks though. from the middle of the episode. i am sobbing and screaming but i have to talk about the closet coding here. the whole "we have to smile, we have to act normal, we have to push through" thing mirai said, thats. damn. DAMN. thats kinda what you HAVE to do as a closeted kid. and with mirais family being seemingly uber oblivious to whats Going On i think mirai had to go thru that. couldnt tell her parents about what was really going on between her and liko cus 1. magic world and keeping identity secret cus duh but also 2. we know mirai wouldnt care about that. family is everything to her. part of my brain is genuinely concerned that the fucking closet is why. jesus christ. is this a headcanon? yes. does deen KNOW EXACTLY WHAT THEYRE FUCKING DOING? ALSO YES. not even mentioning HOW THEY TALK ABOUT HAA. AND HOW MIRAI HAS TO TAKE LIKOS HAND IN THAT MOMENT. OH MY GOD. THIS IS WHAT I WAS TALKING ABOUT WITH THE FLASHBACK EPISODE THING. im not so sure they can fit it in now but with the increased rate of flashbacks/flashforwards happening now its not outside the realm of possibility. especially if that shit chronosto tried to pull ends up working somehow.

that aside then theres the ACTUAL meaning… and oh my god… they went through this exact same shit TWICE. this is AGAIN. maybe theyre better at handling it the second time around but after seeing how hisui went out that shit would completely destroy me. not like it didnt anyway though.

i was genuinely concerned last week that miraiko is in jeopardy due to the loss of hisui. but uh. honestly my concerns are only SLIGHTLY assuaged. theyre still being gay all the time and haa being back for sure plays a massive role in things not falling apart, but the way theyre doing it is just "im going to keep this pain inside me, and then one day i'll die." that shit does not work. mirai TRIED it before. it did not work. it also does not work in real life. trust me. if you needed me to tell you that-- i'm GLAD i told you that. talk to somebody. but with what happened right at the end it may be a non-issue here… more on that in a minute though.

poor souta. bro got his whole dream shattered by chronosto and was banished to being an office worker with receding hair. at least it seemed like he had kids who were happy. and if the flashforwards we've seen are anything to go off of this bad future of his is gonna come to pass. that sucks. honestly probably the best version of turning regular people into mosnters i've seen yet. sure, desertrians (from heartcatch) and notriggers (from star twinkle) exploit your insecurities, and the jikochuus (from doki doki) prey on your selfish thoughts, and A CERTAIN CHARACTER WHO I'M NOT SPOILING FOR MY ONE FRIEND from kira exploits trauma, and those are great. but this guy straight up just sees your future, shows it to you if it sucks, and traps you in the forever box mind matrix statue prison and eats your "time" (life force) for his own power. then if the precures show up he uses the power to manifest a monster. literally all souta could do was brush it off as a bad dream. he doesn't know, chat. maybe it was a troll though and he becomes that pro bowler he was on about lol

but fuckin chronosto. i guess i was wrong about the dog being just a vessel, he really was just a dog the whole time. but. then who's the urn fella. his powers run out now but i wanna know who he is. for someone who just murdered a child last episode he's pretty fuckin goofy looking. regice lookin ass. has a dog tic. will probably look more threatening next time since he's already turned a ton of people into statues as we've seen, but for now i will poke endless amounts of fun.

chikurun is here. on my first watch thru i was dismayed at the mofurun being straight arc, but after watching the movie and learning that mofurun is transgender it hit me that mofurun is cool and awesome actually for being a tgirl failgirl whos into failmen. you go girl. also i have to imagine in the preview since we see mofu and chikurun talk that they can like. talk about how the timeskip affected them too. cus mofu says she'll come back for chikurun a few episodes before the deusmast fight but obviously she never does… man we're getting ALL angles of the emotional turmoil. though we see chikurun in episode 50 of the original series so maybe it happened offscreen? with dokuromushe there was kind of a crisis and considering the kira tie-in shenanigans its entirely possible the show is gonna consider that portion non-canon which is fine honestly.

but about what he said. and the preview. hisui is. inside of haa?? like as her power obviously but like. we saw her ass get absorbed by chronosto. im unsure how this is going to shake out. we got a scene mirroring the one from earlier on, i'm assuming its gonna be the same except hisui's face is cast in shadow instead of haas… haa never got to meet hisui. the scene on the bench shes clearly detatched from the situation. but i have to imagine the rest of the show is gonna be "how do we bring hisui back to life" instead of the fucking doomerism dealing with grief and pain thing i thought was happening. i mean YES it IS that, and obviously chronosto is of the opinion of "dont do anything and revel in escapism", but the message is clear here that what you need to do is do all you can to push through it. i just hope the show doesnt botch the lesson here with mirai and liko trying to suppress their pain. like on some level they DO need to since they have lives outside of precure and need to do precure stuff too, but like. man these two need to work SO MANY things out, and i hope they get the opportunity before the end…

i guess hisui might come back. or maybe she never left. i dunno. in my mind it feels slightly cheap but we don't know enough to come to that conclusion yet, so i'll keep my mouth shut about it.

haa is rocking mirais fit. it matches her hair so well that i honestly didnt even notice. it makes sense though, considering that the power of linkle emerald is gone now, so no more green. my girl got demoted to a pink cure. or i guess shes not a cure at all anymore.

scary thought: what if they do a cure joker. what if they have felice come back as like a haa hisui fusion thingy. no cure hisui the same way theres no cure regina but you kinda sorta get it so youre not allowed to complain. i dunno, not a substantitive thing, itd just be ever-so-slightly-lame. i dunno.

regardless, i really wasn't sure the direction this show was going in when i started this episode, but now that i have an idea im back to being excited instead of feeling immense dread all this week wondering how this would affect things. episode 8 is titled "hisui and haa", so we're finally gonna get the lore we so desperately need. hope its cool. good episode!

[heyitsmirae]

Nanami, it’s time [JJK fanfic]

Chapter Title: Time to go Word Count: 1,960 Synopsis: We all know that moment when Kento Nanami gets torched by Jogo, and you know what comes next… well I know we all want to turn back time and undo that moment. This is a retelling of that part in the story, with something different added to it. Nanami has a wife (you!) who is also a Jujutsu Sorcerer with a unique power, and they both want out of the Jujutsu Society forever. Pairing: Kento Nanami x Reader Content Warning: none YET, but in the succeeding chapters, there WILL be smut, I’m warning you all because I’m writing this while I’m ovulating lol horny JJK fans unite Notes: I had help from ChatGPT to generate a unique JJK-verse Cursed Technique without it being too OP or copying from an existing character, so thank you chatgpt lol, see the end part for a detailed explanation of the technique

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NANAMI’S POV

A minute ago, I, Naobito Zenin, Megumi Fushiguro, and Maki Zenin were all standing on a beach, the domain of the Cursed Spirit Dagon, watching the new arrival of a strong, frenzied man who had zero Cursed Energy, who was beating the daylights out of the domain owner.

The next thing I knew, we were back in the station at Shibuya, staring at the lifeless body of the octopus creature whose domain obviously crumbled upon his death at the hand of the man in the sweatshirt.

The same man who is now walking towards us with a glint of madness in his eye.

“Is he on our side...?” I thought, mentally preparing myself to battle this man in case he wasn’t.

Suddenly, two things simultaneously happened.

The man wearing a sweatshirt suddenly dragged Fushiguro-kun and flung him out the window, and another Cursed Spirit with an insane amount of Cursed Energy appeared without warning next to the corpse of Dagon.

He looked odd, almost comical, with the shape of his head looking like a volcano, complete with the top billowing off small amounts of steam. But we all knew he was dangerous.

“Dagon, I’ll take it from here. Leave the rest to me, we’ll meet again in the wastelands, one hundred years from now. Now then…” the Cursed Spirit said, turning to face all of us.

In a split second, he was by my side, touching my abdomen and glaring at me.

I barely had time to register what was happening when suddenly, I felt the familiar presence of a Cursed Energy, one whose presence I had not wanted to be in this place at all, not especially in this moment.

Time seemed to slow down as I saw my wife running towards me, worry evident in her light brown eyes.

“Y/N, my love, why are you here? Weren’t you supposed to be in Osaka? It’s dangerous here!” is what I willed my mouth to speak, but the words aren’t coming out.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. My mind can’t process it that quickly, but somewhere, somehow, I knew this was the power of her Cursed Technique, Chrono-Warping.

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READER’S POV

I read and reread Principal Yaga’s text message to me, sent about an hour ago.

Y/N, you should come to Shibuya as soon as you can. It seems we will need all hands on deck to handle the Special Grade curses wreaking havoc. You may join your husband in the rescue mission to retrieve Gojo, who was sealed in Prison Realm. Resume your current mission once this crisis is averted.

I willed the bullet train to go even faster, bouncing my knee up and down in a nervous tic as I run a hand through my hair.

“Knowing Kento, he’ll probably do his best to protect the students and his kohai, Ino. He might even get hurt from that chivalrous attitude of his.” I muttered under my breath.

Which is one of the things I love and hate about Kento Nanami.

It’s not that I don’t trust his abilities to get him through the battle at Shibuya. It’s that I know how overprotective he is of the younger Jujutsu Sorcerers (and of me), he’ll always go above and beyond to protect them at the risk of his own life.

The next stop, Shibuya.

“Fucking finally. I’m gonna age from waiting in this damn train.” I said, apparently rather loudly, since the couple seated in front of me turned to look at me with their eyebrows raised.

“Eh, who cares what they think. I’m used to the stares and the discrimination.” I thought.

I was a foreigner, half Japanese, half (your nationality), in fact. Despite my living here for almost three decades and speaking Japanese with a perfect accent, my features will never be Japanese enough for me to be treated the same as the “locals”.

It was one of the things that brought me closer to my husband, in fact. Standing 6 feet tall and with obvious Western features, he certainly stood out in the crowd. The locals here do not like individuals who stand out, so we both experienced discrimination of sorts, even within the Jujutsu society.

While I wait for the train to arrive at the station, I let my mind wander at a conversation Kento and I had before we were married.

“How does it not bother you, Kento. That old man was just downright rude to you!”

“I remind myself that they do not personally know me and that anything they say or do to me is based on a prejudice they have preconceived in their minds. Since they do not know the real me, nor do they have any special meaning to me, I do not let their words and actions affect me. It’s a waste of time.”

That man is wise beyond his years. His words back then struck a chord in me, as someone who’s always let other people dictate my mood and let their words affect me. I’ve always been like a sponge that just absorbs all the positive and negative things around me. Kento has taught me so much, both as a jujutsu sorcerer and as a person.

Due to an unexpected issue at our next station, the train will now be stopping. All passengers are requested to leave the wagon with their personal belongings and follow the station superintendent, who will guide you to the nearest emergency exit. I repeat… due to…

This is bad, bad enough that the Shibuya station is closed.

Once the train doors were opened, I jumped out and ran as fast as I could, ignoring the gasps of the people as they saw me jump down and run onto the train tracks.

“Please be safe, please be safe, oh gods please be safe.” I said as I ran, clinging onto these words like a lifeline.

I sensed so many powerful Cursed Spirits and Cursed Energy in the station ahead. Willing myself to concentrate on the one Cursed Energy that I’m very much familiar with, I stopped running and closed my eyes.

There he is! A few hundred meters below me.

I hurried towards the emergency escape ladder and onto the B2 level of the train station platform. Then I saw them. The Cursed Spirit standing over the body of another Cursed Spirit, my husband, Naobito-san, and two Jujutsu High students.

“Chrono-Warping Technique: Temporal Manipulation!”

Time slowed for everyone else, except for me. I only have a few minutes until my body gets taxed from using this technique, or until I accidentally create a time loop, so I have to make good use of it.

The volcano head Cursed Spirit moved too fast; in fact, it was already in front of my husband by the time I got there. I’m not a Cursed Tool user, so I don’t have any weapons, but I think my hands are enough.

I grabbed the volcano head spirit and flung him together with that man who was holding onto one of the students by the collar.

Quickly switching their positions, I half carry, half dragged back the kid to the position where the Cursed Spirit was, and snapped my fingers to let the regular flow of time back.

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NANAMI’S POV

Blinking, I stared down at Megumi Fushiguro in confusion, who was looking just as confused as I was.

“Nanami-san…?” Megumi asked dazedly.

“Kento!”

Her voice is like breathing in fresh air after staying in the sewers for a long time, or like seeing the ocean stretch endlessly over the horizon at dawn after a long year without vacation.

She was a force of nature, this woman. My radiant sanctuary that keeps me anchored, a beacon of love and resilience in this unforgiving world of curses, her presence a soothing balm to my battle-weary soul.

“My love, what are you doing here? Weren’t you – ” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence as I rest my cheek on her head, breathing in her scent and wrapping my arms around her body.

“Principal Yaga briefed me on what was going on here. He said all hands on deck were needed. Of course I had to come here, love.” she murmured. Her hands were patting my back gently, but then she broke off the hug to look at me sternly.

“Look at you, your favorite shirt was ripped. These cuts, I can’t…” She reached for her pocket and brought out a small handkerchief, wiping the cut on my forehead as her brow wrinkled into a frown.

“It’s nothing, look, love, we all aren’t safe here yet.” I said, trying to appease her worry by making light of my current physical state.

A loud AHEM startles us both.

“Yes, ahem, well, if you both are quite finished being lovey-dovey, I should very much like to leave this station and get my arm treated by Dr. Shoko.” Naobito said gruffly.

We turned to look at the others, who were all averting their gazes from us, looking shy and embarrassed to witness our moment.

I cleared my throat as well, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks as my wife gently tended to my injuries, ignoring everyone else stoically.

“We won’t do much good to anyone, much less rescue Gojo and all the non-sorcerers here in Shibuya, if we’re injured. Let’s go find Ieri-san and get treatment for our wounds.” I said in a deadpan tone.

I could feel a different energy radiate from my wife, and I felt a sweat drop from my brow.

“Is she mad that I got this much injured? Is she scared? What is it?”

No matter how many years we’ve been married, I’m not sure I’ll ever fully understand how my wife’s mind works.

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Chrono-Warping

A rare and balanced ability known as "Chrono-Warping" surfaces. This power enables its possessor to manipulate the flow of time in localized pockets, introducing a unique set of advantages and challenges.

Key Features:

Temporal Manipulation: The user can temporarily accelerate or decelerate time within a specific area. This can be employed defensively to evade attacks, strategically to gain an advantage in combat, or to provide brief moments of respite amid chaotic battles.

Time Echo: The ability to create echoes of the immediate past or future within the user's perception. These echoes offer glimpses of upcoming events or recent occurrences, granting the user enhanced foresight and the ability to react more effectively.

Temporal Distortion Fields: By creating localized distortion fields, the user can disrupt the normal flow of time for themselves or others. This may result in altered perceptions, making it challenging for opponents to predict the user's movements or react appropriately.

Chrono-Infusion: The user can infuse their cursed techniques or physical strikes with controlled bursts of temporal energy. This adds an element of unpredictability and surprise to their attacks, as opponents struggle to anticipate the timing and impact of each strike.

Limitations:

Temporal Strain: Manipulating time is mentally and physically taxing. Prolonged or frequent use of Chrono-Warping can lead to fatigue, disorientation, or even unintended consequences such as momentary time loops.

Temporal Anchoring: The user cannot manipulate time on a large scale, and the effects are limited to specific areas or targets. Attempting to alter significant events or manipulate time across vast distances is beyond the scope of this power.

Vulnerability During Temporal Manipulation: While manipulating time, the user is vulnerable to attacks. Distorting the temporal field requires focus, and disruptions can leave the user momentarily defenseless.

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Hope you like this first chapter! Not much fun but I personally had fun retelling this part of the Shibuya Incident. Stay tuned for more!

[kusagrasskusa]

An Eye for an Eye, 'Til the World goes Blind

Chapter 4- Meething Them Part 1

Intro, Cha1, Cha2, Cha3, Cha4, (Chapter Selections!)

Side Note, Toby is said to be 5’8 by the age of 25 and that’s gonna be the age I’m putting him at. And just for fun, Masky will be 6’ and Brain will be 6’2. Just saying, it was creepy af trying to find the actors’ heights (there’s no info for it btw) but the websites that have their info were getting too personal with it lmao

Summary- She wakes up to meet a man. Luckily she planned ahead.

I just want to be yours, loved only by you. I can’t fucking breathe when I'm around you. You can hurt me, manipulate me, fucking break me, ruin me. Just give me your heart so I never have to worry again.

The world spun all around as her eyes fluttered open to the dark space in the dimly lit room. Litten only by a small red light on the opposite wall next to a door. The smell was horrible- like the smell of a rotting body that had been there for far too long. Perhaps more than one body, too.

The air was cold and stung on her bare flesh, a familiar feeling from all those years ago. She remembers Martha locking her in the car on a cold winter day to take Mateo ice skating, and how the cold stung her like this. Martha died in jail for what she did to little Y/N by the other prisoners; mothers who would do anything to see their child or stepchild again. And these mothers didn’t like meeting a woman so cruel to her stepdaughter that she’d lock Y/N in the car on hot summer days until she couldn’t breathe anymore.

What drives a woman to do that? It’s no wonder Y/N always gets hot and nervous in a vehicle with a heavy heart each time. A fear of cars is something she may never get over.

Sometimes Y/N swore she could see her mother in this room. Sometimes, I say, as if she hadn’t been awake for only 5 minutes. Disillusioned and staring into space, flashing images of once was or can be popping in and out. Five minutes felt like forever for some reason. She was so cold in nothing but her undergarments; although the thought of where her clothes were never registered in her mind.

Chloroform doesn’t knock people out that fast unless it's laced. Whatever they used would remind her of how she felt after surgery when the anesthesia was wearing off. When she had surgery after trying to cut her arm off and nearly dying. Why did she do that again?

“Good morning, woo,” a masculine voice called out, followed by a random noise. A tic.

When did the large shadowed man lean in front of her? The room was too dark to see his face, but she could see his silhouette from the light shining behind him.

“Good morning,” her weak sound whispered back. “Where am I?”

“Somewhere nice, little Y/N, woo,” his voice ticed once more, “a nice little place of business. And me and you are gonna talk.”

“Oh, I’m not in the force yet,” Y/N smiled softly, cocking her head at the man as he chuckled. “You’ll have to talk with my brother about police business.”

“No silly, not about that. No… We have something more personal to talk about later,” he said kindly. “For now, I just wanna look at your beautiful face. You look so peaceful when you’re sleeping.”

“Hehe, how sweet,” she softly replied, not registering what he even said in her mind. She heard him say something else- although, her tiredness made it hard to pay attention and keep her eyes open.

“Not a thought going through your head- woo- then, and not a single damn thought now. That’s okay. Enjoy your high while you can, pretty girl.”

By the time her eyes looked back up at the man, he was gone. But she didn’t feel his presence leave.

The back of her mind began to finally recognize the world around her. That she had slept enough for the day, that she wasn’t in her bed, and that she was hungry. Her mind trailed back to the thought of kissing her date the previous night, forcing a weak smile on her tired face as her head tilted to the side of the table she was lying on.

“Mmm,” she silently whimpered as her eyes registered the giant light looming above her, too bright to handle in a drugged state. Slowly observing the dark room, her mind was finally putting the pieces together of what was happening. What was happening…

“What the fuck…” Y/N grumbled as she lifted her head from the table, before halting when her shoulder muscles couldn’t move her forward. On top of that, she was barely clothed. Her breathing quickened alongside the beating of her heart as she looked around the dark room, slowly recalling the previous night’s events. Tim was taking her home, and then… then these two people came in, but one of them had Tim’s hair and build so-

“Tim! Tim you fucking asshole, where are you!” She screamed out, adrenaline filling her veins as she pulled against what was holding down her limbs. Ropes tied against her wrists made her wince in pain as she pulled; her arms were held above her head and tied against the legs of the table. Her legs were in the same state, tied against the table legs.

Her muscles fucking ached in pain after constant minutes of pulling and tugging at the ropes combined with heavy breathing. It just hurt so much more on the inside too because she was really starting to like that guy. The feelings of fear, betrayal, and rage burning into her skin more than the tightening ropes didn’t even hurt as much as the thought of what her brother must be thinking.

She was feeling far too mature to tell her brother where she was going to be. Fucking idiot mistake.

Y/N firmly placed her head against the table, overcome by the feeling of helplessness. She didn’t even notice the tears rolling down her face until now. Nor the light sweat that built up from when she was struggling, combined with the humidity of the room. Wasn’t she cold earlier? Why does she recall a different room? And why did she recall the voice that said-

-“woo, the first ten minutes are always my favorite. You see all five stages of grief in one sitting, hah hah.”

Her head turned to where she heard the voice, although her vision was too blurry to see the face of the man who just walked out of the shadows as if it were a 1940s horror film. “You,” she whispered, blinking away the tears the best she could, “who are you?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking the questions first?” He replied smugly as he walked over to the table, leaning over her. He brought his head uncomfortably close to her face, narrowing his eyes as he took in her look of pure horror.

He looked young, perhaps in his early 20s. Large orange goggles around his eyes and a mask pulled down to his chin, revealing his cocky grin and a giant hole on his cheek. Her eyes quickly went to stare at his teeth and flesh from the hole, making her shiver and grow uncomfortable. It reminded her of the uncomfortability of being nearly naked. Did he take off her clothes?

“That’s what I thought. Now, we got some things to talk about, pretty girl,” he chuckled maliciously as he brought a hand to her face, caressing her cheek and watching as she contemplated what to do. He knew what she was thinking: should I pull away from his hand, or will he get mad? What if he hurts me? Oh, but I just don’t wanna be touched by this scary man, but what could I do when I’m so helpless?

It made his grin grow wider as he pulled away, reaching for his pocket and pulling out her wallet. She gasped as she noticed it. “Why do you have that?”

“Well, woo, if you wait a minute, I’m about to get to that.” His hand twitched as he unzipped her wallet and looked through the many cards and hundreds of dollar bills she had stashed in there. “Are you Mr Ismael Ramirez? Or a Mrs. Jamie Burningham? Oh, or a lovely Danielle Iowa? Because, sweetie, you don’t look like any of these people.”

Y/N’s heart fucking dropped. She quietly gulped, feeling her palms get sweaty and the room seemed to be a little warmer. “I… I don’t-“

“Yeah, didn’t think so. And I don’t think they could’ve given you their cards after they died either, huh? I know that Danielle almost escaped me, but I think a hatchet in the heart then proceeding to rip her open a little more should keep her too dead to pay you, right?”

Danielle Iowa was the daughter of the family she saw two nights ago when her brother called her in for help. She was in her room on her back, bruises on her arms and a giant open hole in her chest.

Y/N’s eyes widened as stuttering out slowly, “You killed them?” Her body started to shake, her chest heaving as her mind wandered to what he could do to her if he had the stomach to do other awful things to people.

“Oh, come on now, don’t look so scared!” the man laughed with a hint of annoyance, “you’re no fucking better! You also have exactly $853 in here, exactly as much as- woo- she had in her little jar in the room. How are you any better than a killer if you’re gonna steal money from the dead right next to their bleeding fucking corpses?”

Sins in the form of goosebumps trailed up her skin all over, her head turning away from him as an escape from the situation. She felt embarrassed, weak, and most of all, guilty. Fucking guilty.

“Yeah, and that’s the first time you’re facing it, huh? Didn’t feel so bad earlier, right, when you went out and bought that coffee? Or when you went- woo- out shopping the night before? Why does it feel so dirty now, Y/N?” The man laughed, setting his knee on the table to lift himself up and set his arms on either side of her. He looked down at her, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look back at him from above.

“But hey, ‘ion gotta kill ya for your sins. I ain’t the devil or God. But I will make you work for your freedom.”

His neck snapped as he smiled down at her, ticking once more. Naturally, him being on top of her while she was barely clothed made her worry about what he could mean- what he was going to do to her. Rape her? Torture her like this was a Saw movie? Sell her into slavery?

“I-Is that so,” she said in a low voice, a shaky breath following.

He hummed in response, chuckling to himself. “If you wanna live and keep all your dirty money, well, I recommend you give me what info you got about the police force. Otherwise,” he paused as his neck snapped following a tic. A sudden cold metal pressed against her bare stomach, making her shudder. “I can cut you open for Mateo to see, pretty lady. And that cute little look of fear on your face would look so fucking ugly when it gets skinned off, right?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N agreed, nodding her head with a quivering lip. “Or-”

“Or?” The man widened his eyes with mild shock, cocking his head as he placed the hatchet a little more firmly against her stomach, causing Y/N to suck in a little.

“Or, you let me willfully help you with all the data I can provide, and then some, in return for help,” she said softly, a small smile appearing on her face as if her fear had just vanished.

“Woah, woo,” he chuckled, his grin growing large on his face as he pulled away. He pressed his hatchet even harder against her skin, causing her breath to hitch. “I have never seen that before. I’mma have to let the other guys know about this, hah hah.”

He got off of her and stepped back down onto the floor, sticking his hatchet back into his little holder.

“Wait, so, what’s this “and then some” thing supposed to mean? And what makes ya think that whatever you can provide is worthy of not just your life, but also something more in return?” he asked rather threateningly as if he was annoyed. No, pissed off.

“You know, I’m not just some dirty detective or thief,” Y/N replied cautiously, furrowing her eyebrows. “You think I didn’t notice all the girls looked like me? You think I didn’t notice I could be next? What if I took extra steps in case something were to happen to me?”

“Attitude out of nowhere like ya have any power over the situation,” he replied aggressively, rolling his eyes. He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. He swiftly grabbed his hatchet back out and set it on her stomach, before crouching down and reaching for the ropes tying one of her hands down. Anxiety pulsed through her veins but… she knew what she was doing.

The rope burns hurt her wrists as it got free, her hand feeling better from the return of circulation. The man placed her arm down the table forcefully, holding it down as he grabbed his hatchet again, placing the blade on her fingers. Instinctively, she gasped and tensed.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he said before ticcing, “you’re gonna give me a good counterdeal that’s just so much better than mine. And if you don’t, I’m cutting these off one by one. Got it? Or do you wanna just take my deal instead?”

Y/N quivered, narrowing her eyes at him before taking a deep breath. “Okay, listen… I could do two things. I won’t ever give you the police info if all I get is life and dirty money, and whatever happens to my brother. So you’d have to kill me and be left struggling to get the info yourself. And, let me promise you, it’s not easy.”

She took a quivering breath as the weight of the man’s eyes caused more anxiety to trail through her.

“However, I could also help you. Not just info given to you, but I can also lead the investigation in ways that would keep you and whoever you’re working with safe. I know the ins and outs of everything that goes on there, and I’ve tampered with info before on cases. That’s how I get away with stealing,” she says hesitantly, guilt in her words.

“I could give you info computer bases don’t have, I can steal, I can lie, and I’m very good at staying hidden. I know this might not seem like a lot, especially given that I don’t know your plan, but I can tell these aren’t your first murders or kidnappings. Surely having someone who can log into police bases across this country could be helpful to you, right?”

The man raised a brow, cracking his neck before huffing, “Yeah, yeah, so you can make things easier for me, I expected that. Coulda summed that up quickly, y’know. Now tell me what you wanted in return.” He tapped his hatchet against her fingers impatiently.

“I want to come with you guys,” she breathed out quickly, a look of desperation on her face. “I know you and whoever you work with have been across the country, possibly the world, and committed similar crimes. I’ve studied family murders that looked just like the ones here from other states- and I admire it! I would do anything to be a part of what you guys do.”

She bit her lip in embarrassment, realizing how stupid she must sound right now. The silence that followed made her recap how she was tied up, nearly naked, with a serial killer threatening to cut off her fingers after threatening her with death. She then boldly decided to reject his offer and made her own, and now just asked to be a part of a killer group as if she was trying to join a Fanclub.

“Interesting,” the man slowly replied awkwardly, squinting his eyes and cocking his head at her. “You’re weird.” His hatchet began to pierce the skin of her fingers, making her gasp and lift her head from the table defensively.

“Fuck, if you do that, you’re gonna fucking regret it!” she yelled out, her hand shaking. The man chuckled, pausing as her fingers began to bleed.

“How come?” he asked amusingly.

“Tim has a tracker in his truck, connected with a camera and audio. It picked up anything that happened around it- and the data will be sent to my brother unless I stop the message in time.” Sweat built up on her forehead from the extreme nervousness she felt. But damn, her reasoning worked.

“Ugh, you fucking would make this difficult,” he huffed, sticking his hatchet back in his holder. He ticked, pulling his mask back up to his face before leaning into hers, caressing her cheek, and whispering, “You’re pretty, but you’re nothing special. I’ve seen plenty like you before, so don’t think- woo- you got your way yet.”

With that, he ripped his hand away from her face and grabbed her arm to tie her wrist back to where it was. A long, deep sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, placing her head back against the table. He mumbled things under his breath as he finished up, walking out of the room. The noise she heard indicated that he opened a door and walked out- leaving her alone in the room.

What a fucking experience.

--------

Hey guys! Just btw, if you aren't satisfied with this chapter or wish it could have been a little different, feel free to let me know! I'm contemplating rewriting it since I'm not totally satisfied by it- but, if you guys feel it's good enough, I don't wanna waste time rewriting a whole new chapter that most people aren't going to reread.

...but! If you feel like I could touch up on this rather than rewriting the whole thing, do let me know as well. I just really need feedback 🤣

[haikirii]

Whenever I think about q!Cellbit's past, my mind quickly wanders to the time when he participated in the war alongside q!Badboyhalo.

I know it's already confirmed, at least in q!Cellbit's lore because he mentioned this to both q!Bbh and Richarlyson. So it always makes me question how old he was when he entered in the war. The messy timeline of his lore is something that lets the imagination run wild, leaving plenty of room for theories about his current age.

I mean, he's been through a war; a prison; a heavy rehabilitation; involvement with the occult and a slight hint of detective work, how old is he now? But this is other point that would be nice to discuss later – as I've already spent a few hours discussing it with friends.

The point is: whenever I imagine q!Cellbit in the war, I can't help but imagine him as a bit reckless, prodigy teenager who went killing everyone in front of him and was very energetic. Anyone who watched the HG videos knows he was mainly know for being very fast, so in lore I imagine a 14 or 15 year old boy running around with a tired q!Bbh behind him trying to stop him from killing yourself or something like that. Like an old veteran taking care of a small combatant – which makes it ever funnier since some people told me that the q!Bbh is a century-old demon, so imagining him taking care of a teenager in the middle of a war is not only interesting as well but also very cute.

I really like imagining the reaction and feelings that formed when seeing that 15 year old boy he fought alongside showing up several years later on the same island as him, with many more scars, tics, addicted to coffee and a few outbreaks from time to time in a while. It's a dynamic that I find very interesting.

**Tradução pt-br abaixo**

Sempre que eu penso sobre o passado de q!Cellbit, minha mente vaga rapidamente para a época em que ele participou da guerra junto de q!Badboyhalo.

Eu sei que é algo já confirmado, pelo menos na lore do q!Cellbit visto que ele já citou isso tanto para q!Bbh quando para o Richarlyson. Isso sempre me faz questionar quantos anos ele tinha quando entrou na guerra. A linha cronológica de sua lore é algo que deixa a imaginação voar muito, dando muito espaço para teorias sobre sua idade atuamente.

Quero dizer, ele passou por uma guerra; uma prisão; ma pesada reabilitação; envolvimento com ocultismo e uma leve indicação de trabalho como detetive, quantos anos ele tem atualmente? Mas isso é outro ponto que seria legal de discutir mais tarde – como eu já passei algumas horas discutindo com amigos.

O ponto é: sempre que eu imagino o q!Cellbit na guerra, não consigo deixar de imaginar ele como um adolescente prodígio e meio inconsequente que saíra matando todos pela rente e era um poço de energia. Quem assistia os vídeos dele sobre HG sabe que ele era principalmente conhecido por ser muito rápido, então em lore eu imagino um menino de 14 ou 15 anos correndo por aí com um q!Bbh casado atrás dele tentando impedir que ele se mate ou algo do tipo. Como se fosse um veterano mais velho cuidando de um pequeno combatente – o que torna ainda mais engraçado já que me contaram que o q!Bbh é um demônio centenário, então imaginar este ser cuidando de um adolescente no meio de uma guerra não só é interessante como também muito fofo.

Gosto muito de imaginar a reação e os sentimentos que se formação ao ver que o garoto de 15 anos que ele lutou ao lado aparecendo vários anos depois na mesma ilha que ele, com muitas mais cicatrizes, tiques, viciado em café e alguns surtos de vez em quando. É uma dinâmica que eu acho muito interessante.

[archivalofsins]

In the same vein as those last tags. I've been going back and forth with myself on whether to share what was said on these diagnosis forms or not. However, I am just excited about having them and wish to talk about them. Mostly given how difficult it was to get some clarity on this due to life I guess (someone actively abusing their power).

So, I'm going to. Not putting this in the tag because it's somewhat personal but it does discuss Haruka and Mikoto. So there's that.

I already said it but this exam only occurred thanks to my therapist. I was willing to just go whelp getting tested for autism again is actually fiscally impossible within my state at least for me because most practices that do that don't take state insurance. I don't have thousands of dollars to drop on this.

So, my therapist went out of her way to look for places that do testing and taking my insurance. There were none. However, there was one place that would do it for significantly cheaper. That place would be the Michigan School Psychological Clinic for anyone interested in that. However in total that costs five hundred dollars out of pocket. Again much cheaper than other avenues but still a good amount to pay for something but there's a good period of time between doing the intake forms and payment.

Plus it can be split into two payments of two hundred and fifty dollars one given before testing and the other after before receiving the results. This place doesn't test for autism though it's focus is psychological evaluations and ADHD testing. Now for most people in the states the first thing would be okay why is it so cheap what's the catch.

The catch is this diagnostic testing is being done by students it's a part of training program. It's done under the oversight of a Clinical supervisor that does have a doctorate. This is why it's cheaper. It's something that both parties need but no one wants to do for free at the same time.

Which brings e to the first thing I want to highlight,

ASSESSMENT AND STANDARDIZATION

A battery of tests designed to assess multiple domains of cognitive and emotional-behavioral functioning was administered. Testing was administered by a trained clinician under standardized conditions, and under the direct supervision of a licensed psychologist. The results of this assessment are presented in conceptual groupings for easy interpretation and are meant only as a guide for interpretation.

TESTS ADMINISTERED

Conners Adult ADHD Rating Scales, Second Edition (CAARS-2) [self and observer-report] Conners Continuous Performance Test, Third Edition (CPT-3) Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory, Third Edition (MMPI-3) Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale, Fifth Edition (WAIS-V) Beery-Buktenica Developmental Test of Visual-Motor Integration (BeeryTM VMI)

I'm more so adding the thing above to give a general idea of how these things are done. In case people want to create more fan works around the prisoners and diagnoses. Now I can get into the parts that were interesting to me. Either because I found it to be laid in an oh way, or it was just like got damn.

First is a got damn type of thing,

BEHAVIORAL OBSERVATIONS

[REDACTED] was on time and appropriately dressed for her appointment. She presented with a pleasant and friendly disposition throughout the testing process. She was eager to discuss her favorite anime series and showed the test examiner a new book she recently purchased to read during breaks. [REDACTED] exhibited a verbal tic in the form of an involuntary repetitive sound that was uttered infrequently and spontaneously during conversation. She occasionally asked about items placed in the room and inquired about “correct” responses to test items following her responses. [REDACTED] was observed to be wearing her headphones with music playing at the initial start point of test administration and reported that it aids with focus and concentration. [REDACTED] demonstrated excellent stamina during the lengthy test administration and often initiated breaks.

Did I show another psychiatrist Milgram yes. She said Mahiru seemed to have anxious attachment by the way. Also the note on stamina is in regard to how long the test took. It took five to seven consecutive hours. The tester administrator said we could do it over the course of days if necessary but since I was aware of this being a student thing I didn't really want to impede on their schedule too much. So, I opted to finish it in one go.

The verbal tic thing is something I've had since I was a child. I can't really hear it so I didn't know I was doing it in this instance. It existing isn't news to me. My godchild actually makes the noise when she mirrors me saying hi to her. Ha, ha.... echolalia has interesting benefits. My sweet god daughter be like, "Hi, (her name) *that fucking noise I make after a sentence*".

I know, I know it's there I went to speech therapy for it. Since that speech therapy involved being hit with a ruler repeatedly each time I made the noise and that went on twice a week for three weeks. I've been aware of that existing since third grade actually. Sometimes I hear it but normally I do not.

Second point- I shouldn't be proud of this but I am.

Verbal Comprehension

The VCI is a measure of crystallized intelligence learned through verbal means. The VCI also assesses oral expression and receptive language. It measures the ability to access and apply acquired knowledge. The application of this knowledge involves verbal concept formation, reasoning, and expression. [REDACTED] obtained superior VCI scores (VCI= 124, 95th percentile) reflecting a well-developed verbal reasoning system with strong word knowledge, acquisition, effective information retrieval, good ability to reason and solve verbal problems, and effective communication of knowledge. On Similarities, which is a task that taps the abstract reasoning or the ability to identify the conceptual relationships that exist between words, [REDACTED] scored in the High Average range (SIM= 14, 91st percentile) indicating that she can state common features between two words or concepts when asked. On Vocabulary, which is a task that assessed [REDACTED]’s ability to provide word definitions, she performed in the Very High range (VOC= 15, 95th percentile). When answering questions about a broad range of general-knowledge topics, [REDACTED] scored in the Average range (IN= 9, 37th percentile). Furthermore, [REDACTED] performed better with verbal expression of word definitions than the ability to retrieve general factual knowledge from the environment, or past formal instruction.

I enjoy talking a lot that much should be kind of clear.

When the diagnosis goes you suck at drawing. My friends irl, "You graduated from an arts school what the fuck? You were an art major?!"

My ass who has one train of thought always and forever,

Q.05 Do you like drawing?

Mikoto: I like it, but I’m not especially good at it- It was one of the main areas of study at the arts uni I went to so I could just do the bare minimum for that, I guess. Don’t expect all designers are gonna be good at drawing~

I was a graphic design major. During my admissions interview the this conversation happened,

"Are you sure you don't want to be in radio and television? This is a very well edited video." (Needed to bring proof of competency and a piece of art one has made could be fan works brought an amv I'd made.)

"I'm positive I want to go into graphic design if there's no writing department. My concern is am I going to have to draw???"

"Well... If you're sure a bit of a waste though. One sec, here draw a triangle, circle, and square." slides sheet of paper across table.

Does that, "So?"

"That's all the drawing you need to know."

"Really...?"

"Yes. You'll have one drawing related class which since there's overlap between traditional arts and graphic design. But what I need to see is that you have an understanding of shapes and an eye for design. Which you've proven through drawing that and the work provided. So, I'll see you in class."

I literally could do the bare minimum to pass the one mandatory drawing class I had and while I like some aspects of it. Boy does it tire me out. So about that apparently physically writing isn't supposed to be immensely tiring. Who knew-

Visual Spatial

The VSI assesses a person’s ability to evaluate visual details and understand visual-spatial relationships. The ability to construct designs requires visual-spatial reasoning, integration and synthesis of part-whole relations, attentiveness to visual detail, and visual-motor integration. [REDACTED] scored in the Average range (VSI= 93, 32nd percentile) in comparison to her peers suggesting an adequate ability to apply spatial reasoning and analyzing visual details. For Block Design, [REDACTED] was asked to physically piece together a puzzle with a specified time limit to which she performed in the Low Average range (BD= 6, 9th percentile). She may have scored additional points if there were no time constraints. Moreover, when asked to reconstruct a puzzle from a selection of individual pieces, [REDACTED] scored in the Average range (Visual Puzzles= 11, 63rd percentile) indicating that her skills were stronger when a fine-motor component was not involved.

Now onto my beloathed,

The Beery-Buktenica Developmental Test of Visual-Motor Integration (BeeryTM VMI)

The Beery VMI (BEERY-BUKTENCIA DEVELOPMENTAL TEST OF VISUAL-MOTOR INTEGRATION (BEERY-VMI), 6TH Edition, 2010) was administered and measures the extent to which an individual can integrate their visual and motor abilities. It involves a developmental sequence of geometric forms to be copied with paper and pencil. Because children with different backgrounds often have widely varying degrees of experience with alphabets and numbers, geometric forms are used in the VMI rather than latter or numeric forms. The visual motor impairment, such as problems with fine motors skills of the hand and hand-eye coordination.

I fucking hate this test screw the Beery. This shit sucks.

On the VMI, [REDACTED] performed in the very low range, and her standard score of 66 corresponded to the 1st percentile relative to her peers. [REDACTED]’s performance in this area suggests that visual motor coordination is an area of weakness for her.

Did you catch that? When your score is low on a psychological test they refer to the thing you're low in as a Weakness.

MILGRAM / Haruka - Weakness

"If I tried and couldn’t say it, you would get angry at me and say “You’re hopeless.”."

"The VCI is a measure of crystallized intelligence learned through verbal means. The VCI also assesses oral expression and receptive language. It measures the ability to access and apply acquired knowledge. The application of this knowledge involves verbal concept formation, reasoning, and expression."

20/06/05

"If only I could do what anyone else could do."

Haruka: Ah…… ah, u-um, Mikoto-san. The c-communication……? thing, that you were saying was important. I-I thought, I’d give it my best…… Um, so, Mikoto-san, what’s your favourite food……?

Mikoto: Ooh? Nice going, Haru-kun~ Yeah, we still have no idea how long this lifestyle will go on for, so it’s best if we all get along together here. My favourite food…… I like pasta and horse-meat sashimi. Also bubble tea, and recently I’ve been big on custard puddings. What about you?

Haruka: ……ah, I, I wonder…… H-hamburg steak, and omurice, a-and also…… what else? Ah. Cotton candy……

Mikoto: C-cotton candy!? That’s the first time I’ve met someone who has that in their top three favourites!? ……man, Haru-kun, you really are hilarious.

Kazui: Do you think you can teach her?

Mikoto: Well… The only thing I can teach with confidence are tips for debates and discussions.

The VCI also assesses oral expression and receptive language.

Amane: Right now- English? No, I need to learn about math.

Oops got sidetracked. This was actually meant to be about me for once. Well I guess that can sit there what's the harm. Yeah so my coordination is a weakness apparently. So that's how I got diagnosed bad at art or in general physical coordination something needed to draw in any capacity down to even holding a pencil.

Oh that bring us to dysgraphia,

What is dysgraphia? In short, it’s a learning disability that affects fine motor skills like writing, buttoning a shirt, or tying a shoelace — as well as the mental processes associated with writing, like picking a topic, organizing ideas, and making a coherent point. - ADDitude (What Does Dysgraphia Look Like in Adults?)

Tying shoelaces-

Damn I could just end it there but let's keep going.

Dysgraphia is a neurological condition and learning difference in which someone has difficulty with writing for their age level. This can range from issues with the physical act of writing to issues with translating thoughts into written words. Dysgraphia is manageable with interventions that can help you learn new writing strategies.

Is dysgraphia a form of dyslexia?

Dyslexia and dysgraphia are two distinct neurological conditions, though they’re easy to confuse because they share symptoms and often occur together. Dyslexia is a learning difference that makes it harder for people to learn to read. If you have dyslexia, you may read more slowly or have trouble recognizing words. Often, people with dyslexia read at a lower level than expected. People with dyslexia may struggle to break words into sounds or relate letters to sounds when reading. Dysgraphia involves difficulty with the act of writing. Difficulties can range from issues with physically writing words to issues with organizing and expressing thoughts in written form.

Is dysgraphia a form of autism?

Dysgraphia isn’t a form of autism spectrum disorder (ASD). Though dysgraphia commonly occurs in people with autism, you can have dysgraphia without having autism.

Source: Cleveland Clinic

Does dysgraphia occur alone or with other specific learning disabilities?

Children with impaired handwriting may also have attention-deficit disorder (ADHD)–inattentive, hyperactive, or combined inattentive and hyperactive subtypes. Children with this kind of dysgraphia may respond to a combination of explicit handwriting instruction plus stimulant medication, but appropriate diagnosis of ADHD by a qualified professional and monitoring of response to both instruction and medication are needed. Dysgraphia may occur alone or with dyslexia (impaired reading disability) or with oral and written language learning disability (OWL LD, also referred to as selective language impairment, SLI). Dyslexia is a disorder that includes poor word reading, word decoding, oral reading fluency, and spelling. Children with dyslexia may have impaired orthographic and phonological coding, rapid automatic naming and focused, switching, and/or sustained attention. OWL LD (SLI) is impaired language (morphology–word parts that mark meaning and grammar; syntax–structures for ordering words and understanding word functions; finding words in memory, and/or making inferences that go beyond what is stated in text). These disorders affect spoken as well as written language. Children with these language disorders may also exhibit the same writing and reading and related disorders as children with dysgraphia or dyslexia.

Here's some information on it from another source as well,

Understood

Many experts view dysgraphia as challenges with a set of skills known as transcription. These skills — handwriting, typing, and spelling — allow us to produce writing.

Here are ways it can present and signs of dysgraphia from both of the links provides.

Specific ways dysgraphia can present include:

Difficulties writing in a straight line. Difficulties with holding and controlling a writing tool. Writing letters in reverse. Having trouble recalling how letters are formed. Having trouble knowing when to use lower or upper case letters. Struggling to form written sentences with correct grammar and punctuation. Omitting words from sentences. Incorrectly ordering words in sentences. Using verbs and pronouns incorrectly.

Signs of Dysgraphia

One of the main signs of dysgraphia is messy handwriting. Here are some of the key handwriting skills people with dysgraphia may struggle with: Forming letters Writing grammatically correct sentences  Spacing letters correctly  Writing in a straight line Holding and controlling a writing tool  Writing clearly enough to read back later Writing complete words without skipping letters

Dysgraphia Symptoms at Home

Highly illegible handwriting, often to the point that even you can’t read what you wrote Struggles with cutting food, doing puzzles, or manipulating small objects by hand Uses a pen grip that is “strange” or “awkward” Slow to understand the rules of games or follow sequential directions Trouble reading maps Difficulty drawing, tracing, or painting Avoids writing whenever possible; prefers a digital grocery list to a written one, for instance Makes spelling errors in simple notes May also dislike texting

Sorry not to make this about me but- Literally in my discord bio "I like writing but I'm not the best texter since it makes me anxious." Absolutely hate that shit it's so energy draining.

Back on topic since this is just about Mikoto now,

Dysgraphia Symptoms at Work

When using spell-check on a computer, often has difficulty picking out the correct word from a list of similar words. Trouble filling in routine forms by hand, particularly if they require fitting words into set boxes. Illegible handwriting; can’t read own meeting notes or coworkers complain that memos are indecipherable. Mixes lowercase and uppercase letters, or print and cursive letters, seemingly randomly. Often leaves out individual letters or the ends of words, particularly when writing quickly. In some cases, may have trouble with typing as well. Experiences hand cramps or pain when writing. Has trouble telling when words are misspelled. Often uses grammatically incorrect sentences in emails or reports. May be overly reliant on simple sentence structures. Prefers to give or get directions orally, instead of in writing. Has trouble “getting to the point” in written communication; emails may be rambling, or reports may repeat the same ideas several times. Able to explain self clearly when speaking, but not when writing.

Please stop calling me out this isn't about me- "Has trouble “getting to the point” in written communication; emails may be rambling, or reports may repeat the same ideas several times."

Writing in a straight line. - Trouble filling in routine forms by hand, particularly if they require fitting words into set boxes.

Difficulties with holding and controlling a writing tool. - Uses a pen grip that is “strange” or “awkward”

Mikoto from the beginning has failed to use a consistent amount of pressure with his writing utensils when answering his interrogation questions. Making it appear as though his pen is running out of ink in a matter that is inconsistent with what that would generally look like. Considering this issue is present even prior to trial two he seems to have a habit of deviating between apply too much pressure and too little when writing.

Omitting words from sentences.

They're asked the exact same question and Yuno actually writes out an answer in contrast to Mikoto who just gives a list.

Difficulty drawing, tracing, or painting

Q.05   Do you like drawing?

Mikoto: I like it, but I’m not especially good at it.

I can't take much more of this... damn I feel like I'm dragging myself right now. Oh good I think that's everything I think that is sufficient enough. So yeah got fucking dysgraphia that dude probably does too or I'm projecting to spread the suffering. Who says it can't be both wouldn't that sort of overlap be perfection-

Yeah so the second test I received was even more thorough. the third one the government is having me take is probably gonna find more fucking issues at this rate.

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Man From Y.I.L.I.N.G.

Chapter 2: "Second Impressions Are Tougher"

This chapter has some of our first bits of research to go with it! I'll be posting the footnotes separately, but if you'd like to see them integrated into the fic directly then you should read it on AO3!

--//--

WEST YUNPING CITY — APARTMENT BLOCK 四

Jin Guangyao is rethinking how willing he is to tend to Lan Xichen until his father arrives in the morning. They’re out of East Yunping and shacked up in the stuffy little apartment Jin Guangyao had once called home for a very brief stint in between leaving prison in Italy and officially entering into Jin Guangshan’s dubious employ in Lanling; in the wake of the adrenaline rush of a narrow escape and now in such close quarters, Lan Xichen is…distracting.

For one thing, he’d taken his cardigan off when Jin Guangyao had removed his own suit jacket, and though Jin Guangyao has the cast-iron excuse of needing to cook dinner to explain why he rolled his sleeves up, what’s Lan Xichen’s excuse?? And since when do primary school music teachers have arms like that?!

For another thing, now that he’s taken off his outer layer Jin Guangyao can smell that he’s wearing some sort of probably-expensive cologne, something absurdly nice and masculine without being overbearing, which is just really not fair. In some sort of attempt to combat such an underhanded move, Jin Guangyao makes something for them to eat with as much diced onion and sliced truffles as he can cram in the pan, despite the fact that he’d been planning to save the truffles for something nice (just for him) tomorrow before he leaves for his next assignment. Lan Xichen wrinkles his nose at the smell but he doesn’t pass comment other than to compliment Jin Guangyao on his ‘refined palate’, which is just so…it’s so..!!!

“Yao-ge,” Mo Xuanyu pops his head in the door to call for him. Jin Guangyao pretends not to see the way Lan Xichen’s eyes light up to learn more of his name and, likely, the fact that he and Mo Xuanyu are related. The typical Jin features are strong; they look similar enough that the ‘ge’ is clearly familial rather than simple camaraderie. “He’s here.”

There’s only one ‘he’ who’s relevant at the moment, and Jin Guangyao feels sour anxiety curdle in his stomach even as he wonders if this means the moment he can wash his hands of the very pretty teacher crowded over his little card-table to eat his dinner has arrived earlier than anticipated.

Jin Guangyao sighs and cuts the gas to the burner with a deft flick of his wrist. He tosses the dish towel in his hands over his shoulder as he wanders down the hall to his cozy little living room, his old flowery apron (gifted to him by the auntie next door some years ago now) still tied neatly around his waist.

Jin Guangshan, Jin Zixun, and the goons they’d brought with them for an extra dose of intimidation do an admirable job of ignoring him for a few long moments as they all stare at the radio currently crackling through a repeating broadcast from earlier in the week from the Americans, some drivel about how they’re dedicated to protecting all the ‘good’ people and eradicating all the other ‘bad’ people, blahdy blah blah. Everyone knows where the wind really blows there, and Jin Guangyao is pretty sure his father is only pretending to pay attention to it so he can have a tool to try to make Jin Guangyao squirm, somehow managing to forget that he wouldn’t be his father’s best agent if he were that easy to rattle.

“I trust that Lan Xichen was helpful enough to be worth the trouble?” Jin Guangshan eventually asks without taking his eyes off the orange glow of the tuner on the front of the radio. Jin Guangyao whips the towel off his shoulder again to grip it tightly in his clenched fists, hiding the tic neatly in the motions of seeming to dry his hands off.

“You were correct, Lan Qiren will be your best bet to track down Wangji.”

Jin Guangshan finally deigns to turn away from uselessly watching the radio to give him an indulgent look that somehow manages to be a scathing judgment as well. It’s a combination Jin Guangyao has come to thoroughly detest.

“That’s it? That’s all you got out of him?”

Jin Guangyao hides his next sigh in whipping the towel over his shoulder again with a sharp snap when it hits the silk back panel of his waistcoat. “Lan Qiren is currently in Yiling, ostensibly to do a bit of community service and to look after some small land holdings the Gusu branch of the family managed to hang onto when they lost their main estate at the start of the war. What he’s probably actually doing is dealing with the Yunmeng Jiang siblings to try to get in touch with Lan Wangji. Yiling sits on the north side of Yunmeng, up the same branch of the river that eventually cuts through Gusu, which makes it a good low-profile meeting point between the Jiang and the Lan for anything that needs doing without getting too much attention. You know Lan Qiren’s location, his immediate intentions, and you have his beloved nephew Lan Xichen to use as leverage to get him to talk. Is there anything else that you require of me?”

Considering Jin Guangyao has actually provided more than the outlines of his briefing for this assignment had specified, the answer to that should be, ‘No, son, your job is finished. Go get some rest after such a difficult and fraught extraction, well done.’. But this is Jin Guangshan he’s talking to, so there will be absolutely no acknowledgment of his accomplishments whatsoever, nor will he likely be allowed any opportunity to rest.

“We already knew all of that!” Jin Guangshan retorts, which is a lie — the bit about Lan Qiren dealing with the Jiangs directly is new and he only learned it tonight in the truck on the way here because of a slip-up from Lan Xichen about his uncle’s most likely travel motivations, followed by Jin Guangyao doing a bit of extrapolating of his own from there. Jin Guangyao manages to keep this argument behind tightly-pressed lips as he steps further into the living room in response to his father’s beckoning wave so he can stop from craning his neck around to see him in the doorway. Jin Guangshan clicks the knob on the radio to ‘off’ with a thick clunk to give Jin Guangyao his full attention for his scolding. Lucky him.

“Don’t get smart with me, either! Your job is finished when I say it’s finished, boy, of course there’s more!”

Jin Guangyao tries to clench his teeth against the argument still burning on his tongue, but he’s had a long and stressful evening, which means his filter to deal with more bullshit is pretty much shot.

“You told me this would be a simple extraction, in and out and I’d be done,” he grits out.

“And it should have been! I didn’t tell you to light up half of East Yunping, you brought this on yourself.” Jin Guangyao ignores Jin Zixun’s unflattering snort of laughter at his expense only thanks to plenty of practice.

“They–” Jin Guangyao doesn’t bother to specify who, he doesn’t need to –”were waiting for me.”

Jin Guangshan snorts at him then and Jin Guangyao has to pat down his apron a few times to keep from balling his hands up into tight fists. “Don’t flatter yourself boy, they follow everyone doing anything remotely in their interests. Besides, Wen Ruohan isn’t stupid, he’ll have figured out how valuable Lan Xichen is as well, this is only to be expected. All that matters is that we got there first.”

“Does Wen Ruohan send his genetic experiments to follow everybody?” he demands, incensed by the casual disregard of his life even though it’s definitely old hat by now. “What they sent after me was barely human! Father, you should have seen it run —“

“Grow a spine, boy!” is Jin Guangshan’s sparkling retort, beginning to grow truly irritated around the edges. Jin Guangyao loses his battle against curling his hands into fists, though he at least plants them on the back of the sofa to lean on and hide how much he’s shaking. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, this family is not in the haberdashery business!” Jin Guangshan gives what he can see of Jin Guangyao behind the couch (which unfortunately includes the flower apron) a scathing up-and-down look that clearly communicates what he thinks of the son he’d never wanted.

“I don’t think you understand,” Jin Guangyao tries again, because his father never understands but Jin Guangyao always finds himself trying to make him every single time, “it tore the back off my car.”

Jin Guangyao feels his anger deflate and crystallize into something cold and hard in his chest when between one blink and the next Jin Guangshan visibly loses interest in the conversation, his scolding delivered and his patience apparently run out. “Remind me again — how long were you supposed to rot in that prison for?”

Jin Guangyao chews on his answer with a flutter in his jaw and doesn’t give his father the satisfaction of repeating for him what they both already know.

Jin Guangshan stands and drifts closer to look down his nose at him. “You owe me five more years, boy. I know you’ve been…taking care of yourself on the side, any fool could see that — I certainly don’t pay you enough to be putting imported truffles in your dinner. But don’t you ever mistake my willingness to look the other way for indulging you as I would Zixuan.” Jin Guangyao clenches his fists so tightly his nails bite into his palms. Jin Guangshan finally turns his back on him to head for the door, Jin Zixun lumbering to his feet to join him. “You’ll report for duty tomorrow morning at 9am sharp, and I’d better see a better attitude. Don’t forget your place in this organization.”

Jin Guangyao stays where he is as his father’s usual entourage files out of the apartment after him, the entire space feeling marginally less stifling once they’re gone. Mo Xuanyu pokes his head in the living room, his expression a cautious, ‘Are you alright?’. Jin Guangyao is in no position to answer that at the moment, so he just waves his brother’s concern off with a tremulous smile.

“A-Yu?” he calls, struck by a thought just as Mo Xuanyu is about to disappear down the hall after the rest of them.

“Yes, Yao-ge?”

“Get me everything you can about Wen Ruohan’s pet giant, will you? I’ll read it in the morning after you come fetch Mr Lan.”

“Sure, ge, I’ll see what I can find. Goodnight.”

Jin Guangyao returns the sentiment with an admonishment for his brother to go get some well-deserved rest at whatever nice hotel all the Jins are staying in this evening, which he agrees to with a tiny, apologetic smile. 

Mo Xuanyu shuts the front door softly after himself, the lock turning a moment later. Jin Guangyao allows himself thirty seconds to breathe through the hatred for all of this burning a hole in his stomach before he returns to the kitchen to begin cleaning up the dishes, his appetite thoroughly gone. Lan Xichen is just finishing up what Jin Guangyao had served him, so Jin Guangyao takes his empty plate away to replace it with his own portion without a word.

“Thank you, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen says quietly, so quietly that Jin Guangyao pretends not to hear him as he turns to scrub the dishes clean (perhaps a little too aggressively) in a blatant attempt to hide his face.

“I have work to do early in the morning,” he tells Lan Xichen a few quiet minutes later when he feels like he can open his mouth without screaming and/or cursing Jin Guangshan for his next three lives. “Agent Mo will be returning for you at half-past 7, he’ll be taking you somewhere safer, though you’re not in any danger here tonight, of course. The bedroom down the hall is yours for the evening, I suggest getting plenty of sleep. Today was…more stressful for you than I’d hoped it would be.”

Lan Xichen sets his spoon on his plate with a quiet clink and scuffs his chair back from the table. Even under the overpowering smell of their curry, when Lan Xichen joins him at the sink there’s still that maddening hint of cologne cutting through truffles and pungent spices. Jin Guangyao does not take a deeper breath in to get more of it, he just…yawns. Sort of. Only through his nose.

“Good advice. I’ll go to bed now, then. Goodnight, Meng Yao,” he says and Jin Guangyao shuts his eyes against being called his old name so gently. There probably isn’t a soul alive who’s said his name like that, considering his mother always called him A-Yao, and by the time he was old enough to make his own way in the world she was already dead.

“Jin Guangyao,” he corrects for his own sake, the name like acid on his tongue, sharp and nauseating — a necessary reminder to himself of what he is these days. “My real name is Jin Guangyao.”

“Mm. And mine is really Lan Huan. Goodnight, A-Yao.”

Jin Guangyao washes the rest of the dishes in something of a daze, and once he’s shut off the lights in the rest of the apartment he slips down the hall to stand outside the cracked-open door to his bedroom and listen for a few moments. He reassures himself with the sound of Lan Xichen’s deep, even breathing — a slow drag in and a short little puff on the exhale — before he slips back down to the living room to bunk down for the night on the sofa.

Fucking hell what a day.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

YUNPING CITY INTERNAL BORDER [WEST SIDE] — RIVERSIDE PARK

At 9am sharp, Jin Guangyao strolls into the area of a quaint little riverside park where Jin Guangshan is waiting, poised too stiffly to be casual on a bench looking across the sluggish water at the wall that divides Yunping City into unequal halves. At Jin Guangyao’s greeting, his father hauls himself to his feet to stuff his hands in the pockets of his raincoat in some stupid show of casual indifference that no one else is paying attention to anyway. Jin Guangyao keeps one hand tight around the handle of his big black umbrella to ward off the misting rain and the other resolutely clenched behind his back as he obeys a jerk of Jin Guangshan’s chin, a silent order to fall in at his father’s side as he starts strolling along the pedestrian walk that rings the park.

“Look at them all,” Jin Guangshan sighs with a gesture at the others around them — a young mother pushing a toddler in a stroller, a few men scattered around different benches reading the morning newspaper, a group of aunties on a flat, grassy spot down by the water doing aerobics. Jin Guangyao watches them all go about their lives with a sort of envy he’s careful to keep off his face lest his father see.

Their strolling brings them to a sharp bend in the pathway that loops around a bright green, European-looking public restroom. It’s a weirdly art nouveau structure of the sort he’d grown familiar with during his brief tours in France and Germany, and Jin Guangyao amuses himself by paying the odd structure more attention than his father as the man continues.

“All these blissfully ignorant people going about their day while we work tirelessly, day and night, to save their miserable lives. And not even a thank you!” Jin Guangyao fights down the urge to yawn from his long day/late night/early morning triple combination — the latest of many in a long string of them, all in service to his father’s interests. “I tell myself that it’s all for the greater good, you know, and that it’s not their fault they can’t help but..languish in the dark. They just don’t have the drive or the intelligence to do what I do, hm?”

Jin Guangyao turns to face Jin Guangshan and his self-satisfied smirk that it’s really far too early in the day to be dealing with, his entire face hopefully projecting a (polite) ‘will you please get on with it’ sort of energy — a request he already knows will go unheeded.

When Jin Guangshan makes it clear that he will absolutely not move on until Jin Guangyao plays along, he forces himself to unbend enough to say, “I’m afraid I don’t follow. Are you feeling tired this morning, father?”

“Wouldn’t you be, if you’d been up all night cleaning up your mess?” he fires back. Jin Guangyao is relieved that his father chooses that moment to turn and ascend the pair of steps into the weird restroom, since it gives him a chance to glare daggers at Jin Guangshan’s back and imagine nice big streaks of blood staining his stupid cream wool coat in the few seconds before his father twitches his fingers at him in a clear instruction to follow him inside.

Jin Guangyao folds his umbrella with a little shake to dislodge the worst of the water droplets and hangs it off the lip of the circular bank of sinks just inside the doorway, watching warily as Jin Guangshan nudges all the stall doors open with lazy flicks of his wrist.

“Are you…looking for anything in particular, father? Or just..looking?” he asks. If at all possible he’d really like to go back to his apartment and rest up for the day before he has to pack his things and head out again on an emergency reassignment his brother hadn’t been available to take, but he imagines his father is looking to punish him some more for the fiasco that was retrieving Lan Xichen, so he’ll just have to bear it.

He wrinkles his nose a little in distaste when Jin Guangshan steps over to the urinals along the other wall with the sharp zziiip of his trousers unfastening.

“What I’m about to feed you, Guangyao, is going to be bitter—” not the most reassuring thing to hear, especially given the current urinal-related circumstances “—but you’re going to have to swallow it.”

“Where are you going with this?” Jin Guangyao can’t resist asking, impatient and irritated (though his voice stays relatively smooth in the interest of self-preservation). There’s the faintest breath of displaced air against the back of his neck, and under the ubiquitous ‘public restroom’ smell assaulting his nose there’s a sudden whiff of something strong, perhaps gunpowder, and when he turns around the monster from last night is right behind him.

Definitely still being punished for that, then.

-... .-. . .- -.-

Nie Mingjue had expected to find Jin Guangshan inside the standalone structure tucked away at the back end of the park. Wen Ruohan had informed him that he’d be meeting with the sleazeball head of the Lanling Jin today, and that Nie Mingjue is responsible for making sure he’ll actually attend the meeting instead of slipping away at the last minute as he’s apparently so fond of doing when they meet anywhere besides Lanling.

What he hadn’t quite anticipated was fucking Jin Guangyao to be accompanying the man, and the startled look in his eyes when he whips around to look up at him is enough to tell Nie Mingjue that Jin Guangyao hadn’t expected to see him here either. Still, it’s not like he’s going to waste an opportunity as good as this now that he’s got it, so he doesn’t bother giving Jin Guangyao a chance to recover his wits before he tackles him into the nearest stall with all the grace and poise of a charging bull and the loud crack of wood splintering.

Jin Guangyao yelps in his ear in a way that only scratches the surface of soothing his anger over the way things panned out last night (Wen Ruohan had to come get him out of the holding cell personally, which is the last thing anyone wants), so Nie Mingjue continues his attack with relish, going heavy with his fists and using his bulk to his advantage in the confined space. Jin Guangyao gets his metaphorical feet under himself quickly though, and soon enough Nie Mingjue finds himself with a tiny little monkey on his back, hands wrapped tightly enough around his throat to choke him.

He shoves down the natural human instinct to panic when his airflow is disrupted and sets about fixing the problem by making a quarter-turn and slamming Jin Guangyao hard enough against the partition between their stall and the next to smash through the painted boards with a satisfying crunch and a soft oof! of all the air escaping Jin Guangyao’s stupid tiny lungs all at once. Nie Mingjue uses the distraction to unhook the man’s hands from his throat and attempt to turn around to keep pummeling him, but Jin Guangyao swings around with him only to grab some of the exposed pipes on the wall behind and above the toilet to get enough leverage for a solid kick to the center of Nie Mingjue’s chest, and this time it’s his turn to fall through the next partition with another loud crunch and clatter.

Jin Guangyao comes after him rather than making his escape, teeth bared and something wild in his eyes that throws Nie Mingjue off-rhythm for only a heartbeat — but that’s just long enough for Jin Guangyao to get behind him and curl his entire arm around his neck this time and swing up onto his back once again. The crook of his elbow locks at the front of Nie Mingjue’s throat and his legs are wrapped tightly around his waist to cling on even as Nie Mingjue attempts to flip his infuriating little hanger-on over his head with the intent to finish this by breaking his fragile spine over the dark green toilet bowl.

Despite his best efforts, Jin Guangyao’s grip is inescapable and so they just end up awkwardly hunched over for a single sharp breath before Jin Guangyao kicks off the wall behind the toilet to send them both careening back out into the central area, nearly bashing Nie Mingjue’s head off one of the sinks before Nie Mingjue finally manages to get him off of his fucking back and put him in a kneeling headlock on the tile floor. He digs his knees into Jin Guangyao’s calves to hold him pinned as tightly as he can as he attempts to return the choking favor as good as he’d gotten. Jin Guangyao’s hands scrabble uselessly at his arm and Nie Mingjue bares his teeth, pleased to have won but far too keyed up to smile like a civilized human being — Wen Ruohan has personally seen to it that barely qualifies as one anyway.

He’s too locked up in his victory and watching Jin Guangyao’s nails dig fruitlessly into the thick leather of his bomber jacket to notice Wen Ruohan slipping in through the offset entrance to the toilet until the man himself speaks up.

“Guangshan.”

Jin Guangshan, still standing over the urinal and looking thoroughly unimpressed, just nods back at him and zips up.

“Улаан Ир.” Nie Mingjue looks up sharply at his boss, who so rarely bothers to speak to him in Nie Mingjue’s own tongue. “Алив, эхний өдөр шинэ хамтрагчаа бүү ал.” Wen Ruohan punctuates the admonishment with a barely-perceptible squint and a little shake of his head that promises punishment should Nie Mingjue disobey (what else is new?). Nie Mingjue forces himself to shove Jin Guangyao away, adding in a little kick to the other man’s feet for good measure as he collapses forward on his hands and knees to get a few deep breaths in, wheezing and coughing on each exhale.

“What does that mean?” Jin Guangyao pants when he can.

Jin Guangshan’s gaze practically burns with disdain from what Nie Mingjue can see when he looks down at his son from where he’s washing his hands and says, “He said ‘Don’t kill your partner on the first day’.”

“I know what he said,” Jin Guangyao snaps, which is…interesting. “What does it mean?”

“It means your father and I are putting our differences aside long enough to pursue shared interests,” Wen Ruohan answers while Jin Guangshan dries his hands and settles his coat more comfortably on his shoulders. “Come, there is much to discuss.”

Nie Mingjue, just as thrown as Jin Guangyao seems to be by this turn, stands and stalks out of the bathroom on Wen Ruohan’s heels, leaving Jin Guangyao to sort himself out as Jin Guangshan keeps pace, the three of them (and Jin Guangyao trailing behind) heading for the open-air café nestled into the next bend in the river.

... -.-. . -. . / -... .-. . .- -.-

YUNPING CITY INTERNAL BORDER [WEST] — RIVERSIDE CAFÉ

“As you’re both well aware, every major organization in the world has currently got its eye on nuclear technology,” Jin Guangshan says around the rim of his coffee cup, sounding as simultaneously bored and pompous as ever under the background hum of the rest of the patrons seated around them enjoying the morning breeze as they nibble on pastries or sip at their own cups between their murmured conversations. Jin Guangyao doesn’t touch the coffee set in front of him but instead stares down into the brown-black surface of it, mentally running through every possible reason why they’re here, now, having a conversation with Wen Ruohan and his secret personal pet, who is without a doubt the best agent in Qishan.

He doesn’t like any of the options very much.

“Luckily, for the most part we know pretty well where everyone stands. There are only so many ways to make a missile, after all, and we all know how to do it…in theory, naturally.” Jin Guangshan laughs with calculated breeziness that Jin Guangyao is sure no one in present company is foolish enough to fall for; after all, hadn’t the entire country recently celebrated the detonation of 596? There’s nothing theoretical about it, that’s sort of the point of this worldwide Cold War. “There’s only one man besides Lan Wangji that we know of who’s on the cusp of doing it both quickly and well, and no one is happy to have such important knowledge so…restricted.”

Jin Guangyao refrains from rolling his eyes with a massive amount of effort. Everyone at this table knows that the Yiling Laozu and his groundbreaking research are the goal here. They were all involved in acquiring Lan Xichen last night simply because of his somewhat tenuous connection to his brother who may be connected to the Yiling Laozu in some way, so why the dramatics of this ‘reveal’?

Wen Ruohan chooses that moment to cut in, sounding as impatient as Jin Guangyao feels and clearly eager to get to the heart of the matter. “The Yiling Laozu has streamlined the process of refining the uranium necessary for the nuclear devices he prototyped during the war, and out of everyone researching nuclear weaponry, he’s the only one we haven’t managed to pin down and keep our eye on. For all we know, the methods he’s developing will make it child’s play for anyone and everyone in the world to develop their own atomic bombs freely, and then where will we be?”

Jin Guangyao darts a glance up at Wen Ruohan to find him frowning thunderously, scowling in a way that might have once made Jin Guangyao afraid of him, before his father taught how to stop fearing anyone else but him. Even a man as powerful and ruthless as Wen Ruohan can’t possibly hurt him in the ways Jin Guangshan can, so what is there to fear? In that same vein, he wonders in a detached sort of way if he should worry about the fact that he no longer cares if the entire world is blown to bits by any of these idiots and their nuclear prick-measuring contests.

His dour musings are interrupted by Jin Guangshan slapping a folder down in front of him hard enough to slosh his untouched coffee, though it doesn’t quite spill over into the saucer. Jin Guangyao dutifully flicks the folder open to the sight of a monochrome candid photo of Lan Xichen from the shoulders up and looking a little windswept, an enigmatic smile on his lips as he gazes somewhere beyond the camera.

Under the clinking and chatter of the rest of the café patrons, Jin Guangshan takes over narrating his little story again.

“Our key to finding the Yiling Laozu is still going to be Lan Xichen, but now we know that Jiang Shipping — which on the surface has no remaining connection to the Lan family as of a full decade ago — may not be quite as innocent in all of this as they’d like to appear. Before the war, there was a rather precocious young man closely aligned with the Jiang family. After the younger generation’s introduction into Jiang Fengmian’s social and professional circles, this boy was frequently seen at events alongside the Jiang heir and heiress, though the family has always been notoriously tight-lipped about his origin and his importance to them.”

Jin Guangyao slides the photo of Lan Xichen aside to study the next photo in the stack: a posed shot of three elegantly dressed young adults, barely out of their teens, at what seems to be a celebratory event for Jiang Shipping judging by the small bit he can see of a nine-petal lotus logo emblazoned on the banner above their heads. The Jiang heiress is in the middle, smiling sweetly with deep dimples in her cheeks and tasteful jewels dripping from every available spot on her wrists, her neck, her ears, even the delicately curled end of her braid draped over one shoulder. She’s flanked by two men in flashy evening wear that flirts with the visuals of Western black-tie, clearly aiming for fashion statements rather than elegant or tastefully understated convention. Upon closer inspection, he realizes he recognizes the man on Jiang Yanli’s left as one of the auxiliary men in the photograph of the Yiling Laozu and Lan Wangji in Yiling that he’d shown Lan Xichen just last night. The other man is circled in thick red chisel-tip, the alcohol bite of the fresh ink tickling the back of his nose.

Jin Guangyao flicks idly to the next photo down to see the circled, unnamed man featured again dressed in the same attire as before, this time hanging off a thoroughly unimpressed-looking Lan Wangji whose expression is impassive, perhaps bordering on unhappy. From what Jin Guangyao knows of Lan Wangji (as told by his contacts within the research department of Jinlintai during the past few years of his reluctant employment), he’s notoriously standoffish and uninterested in any sort of social contact with his coworkers; Jin Guangyao can’t imagine that a younger and even more tightly wound version of him would be thrilled to have a long, lanky imp of a man clinging to one of his arms with a grin bright enough to rival the sun.

Jin Guangshan continues, “Before that…unfortunate business with the Lan estate at the start of the war—” alright, so they’re all just going to pretend that said ‘unfortunate business’ wasn’t the direct work of Wen Ruohan’s pyromaniac sons under the cover of the confusing early days of the conflict, most likely carried out on their father’s orders “—the Lan heirs made it their business to ingratiate themselves to others in high society circles, including the Jiang. Lan Wangji in particular was often seen with this..ward of theirs, though information varies on how well they got along. Either way, the boy disappeared early on in the war upon leaving for Europe, and was written off quickly as a casualty of the conflict overseas. Quite a tragedy for the Jiang to lose such a bright mind from their little empire, though perhaps a bit too conveniently timed. He disappeared a mere three months before the sudden appearance of the Yiling Laozu with his brilliant schematics and devastating prototypes, most of which were used in direct aid of the Jiang family’s interests both during the war and after the fighting was over.”

Jin Guangyao fights back the urge to yawn as Jin Guangshan leads them clumsily through information that Jin Guangyao himself had gathered the majority of on his father’s behalf weeks ago. He’d gone to fetch Lan Xichen for a reason, after all.

Wen Ruohan must also be getting tired of Jin Guangshan’s monologuing because he once again interrupts a little crisply. “We believe Lan Xichen is going to be even more instrumental in finding and stopping the Yiling Laozu than originally thought. If the man single-handedly responsible for the last few years of major leaps in nuclear technology is not working alone as we’d thought and is instead supported in secret by the Jiangs, then they may be helping him hold Lan Wangji captive until he gives up the information he’s acquired in the course of his research in Lanling. It’s imperative that we do everything in our power to stop him and keep the others safe before Lan Wangji’s resolve weakens enough to supply them with the information they want.”

Jin Guangyao hides the urge to laugh out loud at the hypocrisy of it all with a single tap of his fingertip on another photo from the same party the Jiang siblings had attended, about halfway through the stack of documents in the folder. He tilts his head a bit to better study another candid shot of Lan Xichen, this time caught when he was laughing at something with his icy brother at his side, his eyes as warm and sparkling with kindness as his little brother’s are cold and disinterested.

“The Jiang family lost nearly everything at the start of the war, though unlike the Lan they were able to build themselves back up from nothing to thriving once again in just a few short years. It would seem recently that they’re willing to accept help from the Yiling Laozu to help them continue to rebuild…in return for their services to get his goods anywhere they need to be smuggled. Due to the loss of Jiang Fengmian and Yu Ziyuan in an…unexpected raid on the main Yunmeng complex—” another Wen job his father blatantly brushes past; Jin Guangyao can’t quite manage to keep from rolling his eyes while nobody’s watching him “—Jiang Shipping is now being run entirely by the heir and heiress, Jiang Wanyin and his older sister Jiang Yanli. From what we can tell, Jiang Wanyin isn’t really much of a concern. He doesn’t so much as sneeze without asking his sister for her thoughts on it first; we’re positive she’s the real driving force behind the family’s unexpected success. A lethal combination of delicacy and charm all wrapped up in perfect manners and social connections with every important family this side of China — she’ll be the one to watch out for.”

Jin Guangyao returns to the photo of her with her brother and the man they believe could be the Yiling Laozu, taking note of the way the two men curl around her much smaller frame, arms thrown over her shoulders and postures protective as she smiles sweetly at the camera. She doesn’t look like she could hurt a fly, in all honesty, but Jin Guangyao relies on the exact same camouflage to do the things he does and repeatedly get away clean, so he knows precisely how little that can really mean.

“All of this to say: we believe the Jiang siblings are responsible for Lan Wangji’s disappearance at the Yiling Laozu’s direction, and Lan Qiren’s sudden holiday to Yiling when he’s been in Gusu for years slowly rebuilding the Lan name can’t possibly be a coincidence. Now — imagine the consequences if the Yiling Laozu, previously an isolated threat, suddenly gains access to not only all the resources that the Jiang siblings have at their disposal, but Lan Wangji and the remains of the Lan library as well. He could easily build the most effective atom bomb the world has ever seen for the highest bidder, whoever that may be.”

Wen Ruohan stirs from contemplating the river to reach for his coffee, the movement snagging Jin Guangyao’s wandering attention.

“We have no choice but to work together on this,” Wen Ruohan says with an air of resignation. “Your mission is to infiltrate the Yiling Laozu’s organization through the Jiang siblings, and to retrieve Lan Wangji along with their combined research. It should be on a computer disk just like this—”  Wen Ruohan withdraws from within his jacket a Jin-patented disk, the delicate magnetic tape protected in a round case of soft blue plastic and glinting metal “—and whoever has that disk will become the most powerful force in the world.”

“You, boy, are to investigate Jiang Wanyin and Jiang Yanli,” Jin Guangshan grunts as if irritated that he has to address Jin Guangyao directly where others can see. Jin Guangyao chances a glance at his father, but as is usual when they have any audience outside of anyone in their own organization, his father won’t look directly at him but is instead studying a spot just above his shoulder in the moment before he turns to shoot Nie Mingjue a sharp glance. “Our friend from Qishan will focus on using Lan Xichen to reach Qiren.”

Jin Guangshan stands then, straightens out his jacket, and across the table Wen Ruohan does the same. “We’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Wen Ruohan says pointedly when Nie Mingjue makes as if to stand and leave with his handler. “Guangshan, give my regards to Jin-furen.”

There’s a general increase in the ambient noise level as every cup in the café is abruptly set down in its saucer and each chair is pushed back. Jin Guangyao turns his head to watch the entire open-air patio empty out in just a few moments as everyone who had been ostensibly having a casual morning coffee follows either his father or Wen Ruohan back out into the park heading in opposite directions and to whatever their next duties may be.

Well, at least that explains why they were so comfortable discussing top secret information so openly.

Nie Mingjue, when Jin Guangyao hazards a glance at him across the table, is glaring at him in the twittering silence around them as intently as he had any time their eyes had met the previous night.

It’s an uncomfortably long few moments of a wordless stare-down before Nie Mingjue sits back and tucks his hands into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, affecting a nonchalance he clearly doesn’t feel.

“Obviously I was briefed about you,” he says, and Jin Guangyao realizes it’s the first time he’s heard the man speak. He isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that his voice is sort of…nice. Deep and rich. Steady. “I know of your criminal background, your years spent running from the law..until you were caught and you had to weasel your way out of prison into Jin Guangshan’s gold-lined pockets. How much did he have to bribe the Americans to let you go? Or did he have to buy you off the Italians?”

Jin Guangyao sighs and doesn’t deign to reply when he’s clearly being insulted.

“But I’ll tell you what really interests me about your profile: what could possibly motivate you to then become his most effective agent? I’ve only ever seen men jump through so many hoops when they want to keep their filthy blackmail tucked safely away from prying eyes.” Nie Mingjue affects a smug look of realization that Jin Guangyao would very much like to punch off his face. He carefully keeps his hand flat where it’s resting on the table beside his cup and saucer, though he curls the other into a tight fist where it’s hidden below the table, resting on his knee. “And then I thought ah, of course: it must be to balance out the shame and humiliation of knowing that the man holding your leash, the father who never wanted you in the first place, still had to come buy you and your freedom, just to clean up the sloppy, greedy mess you left in your wake.”

Jin Guangyao breathes through the age-old ache of being kicked around and bought and sold just like his mother had tried to save him from, even if they’d been made into products in entirely different ways, and decides that the best form of defense is a strong offense.

“Shame and humiliation, hm?” he muses with a little smile, the kind that most people find unnerving – particularly when paired with the steady stare he’s giving Nie Mingjue. “I think you understand humiliation just fine, probably even better than I do. Tell me, how does it feel to devote your life’s work to the man responsible for your entire family’s ruin?”

Nie Mingjue’s face goes white, and Jin Guangyao thrills in the adrenaline rush of landing a successful blow.

“After last night I figured I should read up on you, maybe figure out if there was some fringe medical experiments I’d missed out on in the last year or two that would explain how you exist. It was really an interesting story, you know. Your father, head of his own organization, notorious for opposing Wen Ruohan in ways that would get anyone else killed on sight, but he was really a bit of a hypocrite, wasn’t he? Wasn’t he just as ruthless, just as unfair? And then, come to find out in the end he’d driven himself to madness with all his own little nuclear experiments; arguably as dubious as any of Wen Ruohan’s, only your father was better at hiding it for longer.

“How old were you, exactly, when he was publicly shamed and put down like a dog? Thirteen? Fourteen? Were your psychotic episodes lining up with his by the end, perhaps a bit of father-and-son bonding?”

Jin Guangyao knows that he’s likely avoiding death by no more than the foot and a half of flimsy table separating him from Nie Mingjue, but he doesn’t care one bit when Nie Mingjue is so clearly more upset by Jin Guangyao’s words than the other way around. Let it never be said that Jin Guangyao doesn’t return every blow he’s dealt ten-fold, whenever possible.

“Of course one has to admire how well you’ve done in spite of that, I’m the type of man who believes effort should always be recognized. You rose up quickly through Qishan Wen’s ranks after the Qinghe Nie had well and truly collapsed in on themselves a year or two after your father’s execution — straight through the grunt work and into his special forces, all the way up to right hand man and pet assassin! Well done, you. I do have to wonder if it’s your father’s shame that drove you, though, otherwise why fight so hard for the man who pulled the trigger on Nie Fengyi and ruined you for sport afterward?

“Of course there is actually another, more likely reason that I spotted not long after that. Perhaps it’s not as effective as blackmail — or maybe it’s more effective, I don’t know — but tell me: how is your little brother Huaisang doing all the way back in Qishan? Is he being treated well? Or are the rumors true that he’s currently a popular toy for Wen Ruohan’s important friends to play with while you’re busy out here making sure Wen Ruohan’s hands stay clean? Now that’s a shameful motivation if ever I’ve heard one.”

Jin Guangyao deems his job done well enough when Nie Mingjue jerks to his feet and tosses their table out of his way like it weighs no more than a sheet of paper, dishes smashing on the poured concrete floor and the metal table clattering noisily on top of the mess a split second behind. Jin Guangyao raises an eyebrow at his companion, taking note of his trembling hands, the hunted look in his eyes, and the tension in his neck and jaw before Nie Mingjue stalks off without another word in the same direction the rest of the Wen contingent had gone.

His time finally his own for an hour or two at least, Jin Guangyao stands and picks up his umbrella again to open it with a sigh and take a peaceful, solitary lap around the park. The sound of the wind and the trilling birds in the shelter of the trees that line the paved path are a balm he thoroughly appreciates as he makes his way slowly towards the main entrance, his mind already spinning out webs of plans to make this ridiculous scheme work as best as he can. What else is new, really, when he works for a man such as Jin Guangshan?

With his free hand tucked lazily into his trouser pocket and an old Yunping brothel tune running through his head that he can’t help but whistle as he walks along at his own pace, Jin Guangyao easily passes for any of the locals around him paying him no mind as he goes, and he’s mercifully left alone.

[everygame]

Gomoku Narabe Renju (NES)

Developed/Published by: Nintendo Released: 27/08/1983 Completed: Er… Completion: Well, I’ve managed to win a few games against the easiest CPU, but never take a full match. Something I’ve always been interested in is that when you look at history, all anyone cares about is the hits. Nintendo is probably the most famous video game company of all time, and yet swathes of games they’ve released go almost completely unremarked. Gomoku Narabe Renju is a perfect example: it’s literally the fourth game released for Famicom (well, released on the same day as Mahjong) and, you know… no one cares. Well, someone at Nintendo Japan remembered it, and it was released again on the Japanese version of Switch Online last year in what felt like a bit of a “let’s just dump what’s left” update (they even stuck up Urban Champion finally!) so I thought I’d take a look at it. It wouldn’t be wrong to say that no one cares about this one because it is, well, a board game. And not even a “full” adaptation of Go, but an adaptation of the tic-tac-toe/Connect Four-adjacent game, Gomoku, that can be played on the same board. In some respects it’s an interesting release because along with Mahjong it represents the only games for “grown-ups” that Nintendo would do for the system for a long time (apart from possibly Golf) and as only the second batch of games, you do have to wonder if it fit into some sort of strategy for the system or if–as seemingly was often the case if you’ve watched say Jeremy Parish cover the many obscure systems that competed with the Famicom–it’s simply that knocking up some board game adaptations is easier and quicker than other options when you want to bulk up your game library. Almost certainly chosen because adapting Go would have been impossible (a Go title wouldn’t show up till 1987 with Igo: Kyuu Roban Taikyoku designed by Henk Rogers, which only manages a 9x9 board) “Gomoku” is quickly understood as connect five: you’re placing stones one after another, trying to make a row of five or block your opponent from doing so. Unfortunately Gomoku–known as Gomoku Narabe, or “five piece line-up” in Japan–is, as many ancient games are, flawed. The first player (black) has a large advantage, leading to the “Renju” version of the game, which includes a few extremely inelegant rules updates that restrict the black player alone:

Black can’t place a piece that would create two open lines of three stones, or place a piece that creates two open lines of four stones.

Black can’t win with a line of 6 or more–it has to be a row of exactly five.

In addition, every game follows a set series of “opening” moves which attempt to balance the game even further. As you lose the game immediately if you fall foul to any of these rules, what this means in practice is that every game of Gomoku Narabe Renju is a headache of watching out for edge cases and frustration as you navigate yourself into winnable positions that are actually automatic losses. Now, with these rules the game is (apparently) fairly balanced, though complex, but for a newcomer Gomuku Narabe Renju takes absolutely no prisoners. While there are three difficulty levels, after playing for more time than I’d like to admit I can’t beat the easiest AI even half the time. Although I find all the rule bodges in the name of fairness inelegant, I will say that the game design does, somewhat, have the same kind of “grand battle” feel that a real game of Go does (which I’m shite at, too.) You really feel the flow of attack and defence as you place your pieces; there’s a clear shift and feeling as you’re on the back foot, constantly placing stones to stop lines being made, and then an amazing feeling when you can push that tide back and force your opponent into that position–as you both attempt to strengthen your lines as you do so. The original simplicity is, honestly, quite beautiful, and it probably does serve, somewhat, as an on-ramp to Go and its own simulation of battle. However, it’s not really a great video game–easily forgotten, easy to go unremarked. At best a competent adaptation for those who already loved the game and didn’t have any friends (or a pen and paper, which is all you actually need to play this!) Will I ever play it again? I have a pen and paper; I can imagine playing Gomoku again, but not this version.

Final Thought: If you want to play this, pleasantly there is a full English translation out there–so you can at least understand why you’re getting your ass beat.

Every Game I’ve Finished 14>24 is OUT NOW! You can pick it up in paperback, kindle, or epub/pdf. You can also support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up digital copies of exp., a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[majachee]

Once upon a time there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful

sort, which could only be broken by Love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle guarded by a

terrible fire breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from this dreadful

prison, but none prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep in the highest room of the tallest tower

for her true love and true love's first kiss. Like that's ever going to happen. What a loony. Shrek

Beware Stay out I think he's in here. All right. Lets get it! Hold on. Do you know what that thing can

do to you? Yeah. He'll groan into your bones for his brains. Well actually that would be a giant. Now

Ogres, huh, they are much worse. They'll make a soup from your freshly peeled skin. They'll chew

your livers, squeeze the jelly from your eyes. Actually, it's quite good on toast. Back, back beast,

back! I warned you! Right. This is the part, where you run away. Yeah! And stay out. Wanted.

Fairytale creatures. Right, this one is full. Take it away. Give me that. Your fine days are over. -25

pieces of silver for the witch. Next. -Come on. Sit down there! And be quiet! This cage is so small.

You wouldn't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please, give me another chance.

Oh, shut up! Next. What do we got? This little wooden puppet. I'm not a puppet, I'm a real boy. Five

shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away. No! Please, don't let them do it! Next. What do you

got? Well, I've got a talking donkey! Right. Well that's good for ten schillings, if you can prove it. Oh,

go ahead fella. Well? He's just a li..., just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. You

boneheaded donkey! That's it. I have heard enough. Guards! No, no, he talks, he does! I can talk. I

love to talk. I've talked to... Get her out of my sight! -No, no, I swear! Hey, I can fly. -He can fly! -He

can fly! He can talk! -That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking donkey! You might have seen house

fly, maybe even a superfly. But I bet you ain't never seen a donkey fly! Seize him! Get him! This way!

Hurry! You there. Ogre. -I. By the order of lord Farquaad. I am authorized to place you both under

arrest. And transport you to designated resettlement facility. Oh really? You and what army? Can I

say something to you? Listen, you were really, really something, back there. Incredible. Are you

talking to... ...me? Yes, I was talking to you. Can I just tell you that you were really great back there

with those guards. They thought that was all over there. And then you showed up and BAM. There

was tripping on over themselves like babes in the woods. That really made me feel good to see that.

Oh, that's great. Really. Man, it's good to be free. Now, why don't you go celebrate your freedom

with your own friends? But I... I don't have any friends. And I'm not going out there by myself. Hey

wait a minute. I have a great idea... I'll stick with you. You and me in green fighting machine.

Together we'll scare the spin if anybody crosses us. Oh, a, that was really scary. Maybe you don't

mine me saying. If that don't work, your breath will certainly do the job done, 'cause... you

definitively need some tic-tac or something, 'cause your breath stinks! Man you've ??? my note!

Just like the time... ...and then I ate some rotten berries. Man I had some strong gases leaking out of

my but that day. Why are you following me? I'll tell you why. 'Cause I'm all alone, there is no one

here, beside me. My problems have all gone. There's no one to derive me. But you got to have

free ... -Stop singing! Well, it's no wonder, you don't have any friends. Wow! Only a true friend

would be that truly honest. Listen! Little donkey. Take a look at me! What am I? A... ...really tall? No!

I'm an Ogre. You know, grab your torch and pitchforks. Doesn't that bother you? Nope. Really?

-Really really. Oh? Man, I like you. What's your name? A..., Shrek. Shrek?! But do you know, what I

like about you, Shrek? You've got that kind of: "I don't care what nobody thinks of me" thing. I like

that, I respect that, Shrek. You're all right. Uh, look at that. Who would wanna live in a place like

that? That would be my home. Oh, it is lovely. Just beautiful. You know you're quite a decorator. It's

amazing what you did with such a modest budget. I like that boulder. That is a nice boulder. I guess,

you don't entertain much, do you? I like my privacy. You know I do to. That's another thing, we have

in common. Like I hate it when you got somebody in your face. You try to give them a hint and they

won't leave. And then there's that big occurred silence, you know? Can I stay with you? -What? Can

I stay with you, please. Of course! -Really? No. -Please! I don't want to go back there. You don't

how is like to be concerned like a freak. Well..., maybe you do. But that's why we have to stick

together! You got to let me stay! Please! Please! OK, OK. -But one night only. -Huh, thank you! A,

what are you do... No! This is going to be fun. We can stay up late, swap the manly stories. And in

the morning... I'm making waffles. Where do I sleep? Outside! Oh, a, I guess that's cool. You know, I

don't know you and you don't know me... ... so I guess, outside is best for me. Here I go. Good

night. I do like that half door. I'm a donkey all alone outside. Sit by myself outside, I guess. I'm all

alone, there's no one here beside me. -I thought, I told you to stay outside. -I am outside. Well

James. This is far from the farm, but what choice do we have? It's not... What a lovely bed. -Got

you! I found some cheese. Awful stuff. -Is that you Gordon? -How did you know? Enough! What are

you doing in my house? Oh, no, no, no... Death prods off the table! Where would we supposed to

put her. The bed's taken. What? I live in a swamp. I've put up signs. I'm a terrifying Ogre! What do I

have to do, to get a little privacy? Oh, no! No, no! What are you doing in my swamp? All right, get

out of here. All of you. Move it! Come on, let's go. And hurry up, hurry up. No, no, not there. Not

there! Hey don't look at me. I didn't invite them. Oh gosh, no one invited us. -What? We were forced

to come here. -By who? Lord Farquaad. He ??? All right. Who knows where this Farquaad guy is?

Oh I do. I know where he is. Does anyone else know where to find him? -Anyone at all? -Me.

-Anyone? Oh pick me, I know! Me, me. Ok, fine. Attention all fairy tale things! Do not get

comfortable. Your welcome is officially warned up. In fact. I'm gonna see this guy Farquaad right

now and get all off my land and back where you came from. You. You're coming with me. All right.

That's what I like to hear, man. Shrek and Donkey, two stubborn friends off on a world and big city

adventure. I love it. I'm on road again. Sing with me Shrek! I'm on road again... What did I say about

singing? -Can I whistle? -No. -Well, can I hummer? -All right. That's enough. He's ready to talk.

Run, run, run as fast as you can, you can't catch me. I'm the gingerbread man. You monster. I'm not

a monster here. You are. You and the rest of that fairytale trash, poisoning my perfect world. -Now

tell me! Where are the others? -Eat me. I've tried to be fair to you, creatures. Now my patience has

reached its end! -Tell me! Or I'll... -No, no, not the buttons. Not gumdrop buttons. All right! Who's

hiding them? Ok, I'll tell you. -Do you know the muffin-man? -The muffin-man? -The muffin-man.

-Yes, I know the muffin-man. Who lives on Proully lane? -Well, she's married to the muffin-man.

-The muffin-man! -The muffin-man! -She's married to the muffin-man. My lord! We found it. Well

then, what are you waiting for? Bring it in. Magic mirror. Don't tell him anything! Evening. Mirror,

mirror on the wall. Is this not the most perfect kingdom of them all? Well, technically, you're not a

king. A..., felonious. -You were saying. -What I mean is a... ...you're not a king, yet. But you can

become one. All you have to do, is marry a princess. Go on. So, just sit back and relax my lord,

because it's time for you to meet today's eligible bachelorettes. And here they are. Bachelorette

number one is a mentally abused shading from a kingdom far, far away. She likes sushi and

hottubbing anytime. Her hobbies include cooking and cleaning for two evil sisters. Please

welcome... Cinderella. Bachelorette number two is a kemp wearing girl from a land of fantasy.

Although she lives with seven other man, she is not easy. Just kiss hers dead frozen lips and find

out what a live wife she is. Come on. Give it up for... Show-white. And last but certainly not least.

Bachelorette number three is a fire-breathing ????, dragon guarded castle, surrounded by a hot

boiling lava. But don't let that cool you off. She's a loaded pistol who likes Pina Coladas and getting

cut in the rain. Yours for the rescuing, Princess Fiona. So will it be, bachelorette number one?

Bachelorette number two? Or bachelorette number three? -Two... -Three! -Two! One. No, no, no.

Three. Pick number three my lord. Ok, ok. Number three. Lord Farquaad. You've chosen... princess

Fiona. She's nice. Fiona. She's perfect. All I have to do is just find someone... But I probably should

mention little thing that happens at night... -I'll do it! -Yes, but after sunset... Silence! I will make this

princess Fiona my queen. And Duloc will finally have the perfect king! Captain! Assemble your finest

man. We're going to have a tournament! That's it, that's, right there, that's Duloc. I've told you I'll

find it. So. That must be lord Farquaad's castle. Aha, that's the place. Do you think maybe he's

compensating for something. Hey, hey wait up Shrek! -Hey, you! -No, no! Wait a second. Look, I'm

not gonna eat you. I just... It's quiet. Too quiet. Where is everybody? Hey look at this. Wow! -Let's

do that again. -No. no. All right. You're going the right way for smack bottom. Sorry about that. That

champion should have the honor, no, no... ...the privilege to go forth and rescue the lovely princess

Fiona from the fireing keep of the dragon. If for any reason the winner is unsuccessful, the first

runner up will take his place. And so on, and so forth. Some of you may die, but it's a sacrifice I'm

willing to make. Applause. Let the tournament begin. What is that? Ugh, it's hideous. Oh, that's not

very nice. It's just a donkey. Indeed. Knights! New plan. The one, who kills the Ogre, will be named

champion. How about him. Oh, hey. Now, come on. Can't we just settle this over a pint? No? All

right then. Come on. Hey Shrek! Let me, let me! The chair! Give him the chair! Thank you. Thank

you, very much. I'm here until Thursday. Try the wheel! Shall I give the order sir? No. I have a better

idea. People of Duloc. I give you our champion! What? Congratulation, Ogre. You've won the honor

of embarking on a great and noble quest. Quest? I'm already on a quest. A quest to get my swamp

back! -Your swamp? -Yeah, my swamp! Where you dumped those fairytale creatures. Indeed. All

right Ogre, I'll make you a deal. Go on this quest for me and I'll give you your swamp back. Exactly

the way it was? Down to the last slime covered toast tool. -And the squatters? -As good as gone.

What kind of quest? Ok, let me get this straight! We gonna go find the dragon and rescue a princess

just so Farquaad will give you back the swamp, which you only don't have, 'cause he filled it with

full of freaks on the first place. -Is that about right? -You know what? Maybe there is a good reason,

donkeys shouldn't talk. I don't get it Shrek. Why didn't you just pull some old Ogre stuff on them?

You know, ??? . Grab his bones to make you brave. You know the whole Ogre trick. Oh, you know

what. Maybe I could have decapitated entire village and put their heads on plate. Got a knife, cut

open their spleens and drink their fluids. Does that sound good to you? A, no, not really, no. For

your information, there is a lot more to Ogres than people think. -Example. -Example? OK, A-a-m,

Ogres are like onions. -They stink? -Yes, no. -O, they make you cry. -No. Oh, you leave them out on

the sun and they get all brown and start ??? little wild hairs? No! Layers! Onions have layers. Ogres

have layers. Onions have layers. You get it? We both have layers. O, you both have layers. You

know not everybody likes onions. Cake! Everybody loves cakes. Cakes have layers. I don't care

what everyone likes. Ogres are not like cakes. You know what else everyone likes? Paffe. Have you

ever met a person and you say: "Hey, let's get some paffe" and they say I don't like paffe. Paffe is

delicious. No! You tensed, irritating, miniature peace of barden. Ogres are like onions. End of story.

Bye, bye. See you lather. Paffe is maybe the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet. You

know I think I've preferred your humming. Do you have a tissue or something, 'cause I'm making a

mess. Just the word paffe has made me start slimying Why, Shrek, did you do that? Man you got to

warn somebody before you just crack one off. My mouth was opened and everything. Believe me

donkey, if it was me, you'd be dead. It's brimstone. We must be getting close. Yeah, right,

brimstone. Don't be talking ??? brimstone. I know what I smell and ??? no brimstone. And they

don't come of stone neither. Sure it's big enough, but look at the location. Oh, Shrek, remember

when you said that Ogres have layers? Oh, yeah. Well, I have a confession to make. Donkeys don't

have layers. We wear ??? sleeves. Wait a second. Donkeys don't have sleeves. -You know what I

mean. -Oh, you can't tell me you're afraid of highs. No, I'm just a little uncomfortable of being on a

rickety bridge over boiling lake of lava! Come on donkey, I'm right here beside you. Ok? For

emotional support. We'll just hackle this thing together one little baby step after time. -Really?

-Really really. Ok. That makes me feel so much better. Just keep moving and don't look down.

Don't look down, don't look down. Shrek! I'm looking down! I can't do this. Just let me off right now,

please. -But you're already half way. -Yeah, but I know that half is safe. Ok, fine. I don't have time

for this. You go back. Shrek, no, wait. Don't do that! Oh, I'm sorry. Do what? -Oh. This? -Yes, that!

Yes, yes. Do it. OK. -No, Shrek! -I'm doing it. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. Shrek, I'm gonna die.

That will do Donkey, that will do. Cool. So where is this fire breathing pain in the neck anyway?

Inside. Waiting for us to rescue her. I was talking about the dragon Shrek. -Are you afraid? -No, but

shhhhh. Oh, good. Me neither. Because there's nothing wrong with being afraid. Here's a...,

something responsible of the situation. Not to mention dangerous situation. And there's dragon that

breathes fire. I'm sure he's meaner than a cow or anything, but they're scare. You know what I

mean. I'm sure he's heavier than a cow... Donkey. Two things. Ok? Shut, up. Now go over there and

see if you can find any stairs. Stairs? I thought we were looking for the princess. The princess will be

up the stairs in the highest room in the tallest tower. What makes you think she'll be there? I read it

in a book once. Cool. You handle the dragon, I'll handle the stairs. Oh, I'll find those stairs. I'll ???.

That's right. Those stairs won't know which way they go. The drafting stairs, ??? Don't mess with

me. I'm the stair master. I'm master of the stairs. I wish I had a stair right here right here now, I'd

step all over it. Well, at least we know where the princess is. -But where is the... -Dragon! Donkey,

look out! Got you. Oh, what large teeth you have. I mean, white sparkling teeth. You probably hear

this all the time from your food, but you must bleach yourself, because that is one dashing smile you

got there. And do I detect the hint of minty freshness? And you know what else? You're a girl

dragon. Oh, sure. I mean 'course you're a girl dragon, 'cause you're just ricking the feminine beauty

out. What's the matter with you? Do you have something in your eye? Man, I'd really love to stay,

but you know I'm a asthmatic and I don't know if we would worked out. You'd be blowing smoke

and stuff. Shrek! No, Shrek! Shrek! -Wake up! -What? Are you princess Fiona? I am. Awaiting a

knight so bold as to rescue me. Oh, that's nice. Now let's go. But wait, sir knight. This be our first

meeting. Should not be wonderful, romantic moment? Yeah. Sorry lady there's no time. Hey, what

are you doing? You know, you should sweep me out of my feet. Out through the window and down

the rope by to your valued steed. You've had a lot of time to plan this, haven't you? Uh-um. But we

have to sing through this moment. You can residing of a poem to me. A ballad, a sonnet, a libretti.

Or something. I don't think so. Well, can I at least know a name of my champion? Shrek. So, Shrek.

I pray that you take this favor as a token of my gratitude. Thanks. -You didn't slay the dragon? -It's

not my job to do this. Now, come on! But this isn't right. ??? That's what all the other knights did.

Yeah. Right before they burst in the flame. That's not the point. Wait. Where are you going? Exit is

over there. Well, I have to save my ass. What kind of knight are you? One of a kind. ...rush into a

physical relationship. I'm not that emotionally ready for commitment of a this magnitude. That was

the word I was looking for. Magnitude. Hey, that is unwanted physical contact. Hey, what are you

doing? Ok, ok, let's just back up a little and take this one step at the time. I mean, we really should

get to know each other first, you know what am I saying. As friends, maybe even as ??? Hey don't

do that. That's my tail. That's ma personal tail. And you're going to tear it off.... Oh, no. No! -It

talks?! -Yeah. It's getting to shut up, that's a trick. Ok, you two. Head for the exit. I'll take care of the

dragon. Ruuuuun! You did it. You rescued me. Amizing, you're wonderful. You're a ... ...a little

unorthodox I admit, but by deed is great and by heart is pure. I'm entirely in your debt. And where

would a brave knight be without his noble steed. I hope you heard that. She called me a noble

steed. She thinks I'm a steed. The battle is won. You may remove your helmet good sir knight. -Aah,

no. -Why not? I have helmet hair. Please. I wouldst look upon the face of my rescuer. Oh, no, you

wouldn't, dust. But, how will you kiss me? What? That wasn't in a job description. -Maybe it's a

perk? -No. It's destiny. You must know how it goes. A princess locked in a tower and besieged by a

dragon is rescued by a brave knight. And then they share true love's first kiss. With Shrek? You

think, wait... ...you think Shrek is your true love? Well, yes. You think that Shrek is your true love.

What is so funny? Let's just say, I'm not your type, ok? Of course you are. You're my rescuer. Now,

now remove your helmet. Look. I really don't think this is a good idea. -Just take off the helmet. -I'm

not going to. -Take it off! -No! -Now! -Ok, easy. As you command your highness. You're an Ogre.

Oh, you were expecting Prince Charming. Well, yes, actually. Oh no. This is all wrong. You're not

supposed to be an Ogre. Princess, I was sent to rescue you by lord Farquaad, ok? He's the one,

who wants to marry you. Well, then why didn't he come to rescue me? Good question. You should

ask him that, when we get there. But I have to be rescued by my true love. Not by some Ogre and

his pet. Well so much for noble steed. Look princess. You're not making my job any easier. Well I'm

sorry, but your job is not my problem. You can tell lord Farquaad that if he wants to rescue me

properly, I'll be waiting for him right here. Hey, I'm no ones messenger boy, all right? -I'm a delivery

boy. -You wouldn't dare. -You coming donkey? -Put me down! Yeah, I'm right behind you. Put me

down or you will suffer the consequences. This is not dignified. Put me down. Ok, here's another

question. Let's say that a woman 'digged' you, but you don't really like her, that way. Now, how you

Oh

My god