#there are others but the batshit lines stand out more to me than anything else

[julesnichols]

Quick! What is your favorite out of context Snowpiercer quote?

Well "do it before god and all the fish" is my blog title and technically the answer but second in line to that would probably be "that's your conversation axe, is it?"

[definitelynotshouting]

3am Moldy Martyn Anon Back Again

still rotating hunger au despite the MONUMENTAL EVENTS OCCURRING (as soon as i watch secret life instead of just admiring all the fanart i’m gonna be insane too)

1)

thinking abt the tragedy of current watcher grians existence.

so player grian got eaten, remembers being both the devourer and the devoured, etc etc etc, ship of theseus, we’ve covered that

but also? thinking abt the watcher larva that existed before it became grian.

if it could remember anything from that point, it went from

being cocooned in the not-yet-suffocating love of its caretakers, still so unaware of the scope of its world, taking its first steps, learning how to *be*

to, STRAIGHT TO, DO NOT PASS GO DO NOT COLLECT 200$ NO SNACK BREAKS NO NOTHING, DIRECTLY TO,

knowing far too much. knowing that you’re you, the larval watcher cradled by its caretakers, and also you’re you, the player stolen from his home and friends and everything he’s ever loved by these incomprehensible beings and NOW YOURE ONE OF THEM.

it’s incredibly sad— because there’s no one else for watcher grian to BE, other than grian. The larval watcher hadn’t had a chance to exist before it was someone else. Sure, watcher grian’s got the watcher form and watcher hunger and watcher needs— but there was nothing, really, to differentiate the biology from the watcher that watcher grian was before cannibalizing player grians code.

we are, i think, made up of our memories. There wasn’t enough memories in that larval watcher to be an individual at all, in the face of player grians memories. I wonder if the larval watcher had a name, before grian— did any of the watchers care about it, beyond a being a means of continuing a dying species? or was it always meant to be exploited?

think it would be mad interesting to see that angle as well. yes watcher grian and player grian are, functionally, the same person, just with differing amounts of trauma. But how empty did the larval watcher have to be in order for grian, memory wise, to be the same person?

Like, the question was raised and answered earlier, abt the differences between the player and the watcher grian being a ship of theseus question for both the characters and the readers, and like i said before—

who else is there for watcher grian *to be*????

it’s horrifying to think of the implications of the watchers kidnapping and meddling with the very being of a player. it’s even more horrifying to think they’d be so willing to give up one of their very few and delicate larva to this experiment.

even done in desperation, the willingness to sacrifice a child and irrevocably change them in the name of a nebulous idea they (the child/larva) can’t even understand enough to consent to, is both the most horrifying thing that’s come out of the hunger au and also characterizes the watchers extremely well.

2)

surprise! all that was context for a joke (<- says person haunted by the concept).

aware this isn’t canon but please imagine with me the forever toddler watcher consciousness living in the back of grians head:

grian, starving himself to avoid hurting his friends, going through two death games and maintaining enough of a facade to build some incredible structures: finally. sleep.

toddler watcher living in the back of his head: you got games on your phone? you got candy crush? temple run? doodle jump? You got games? Please? Games?

grian, searching up “lobotomy diy wikihow” on minegoogle: you’re lucky i cant punt you.

call that brain a meat hotel the way it’s— *EXTREMELY LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER*

3)

ever think about how tf the watchers came up with this batshit idea in the first place. like i’m imagining a board room in the void with these solar shrimp/centipede lookin mfers in a suit and tie (the pants are either one big pencil skirt or many formal looking leg warmers), and mx. [GARBLED TEXT] (DUBBED JAMIE FOR TRANSLATORS CONVENIENCE) stands up after doing a line of void cocaine (like normal cocaine except it glows purple) directly on the boardroom’s void table and says “I HAVE A SOLUTION TO THE POPULATION CRISIS. ITS GONNA KNOCK YOUR SOCKS OFF. ALL 8 MILLION OF THEM. EVERY ONE OF YOU.”

dramatic pause.

“WE FEED THE BABIES PLAYER BRAINS.”

a timid hand raises.

“YES [GARBLED TEXT] (DUBBED SALAXANDER)?”

“sorry but uh isn’t that what we already do???”

“NO. SALAXANDER THATS THE BEAUTY OF IT. WERE GONNA HAVE THEM EAT THE PLAYER BRAIN…. AND THEN BECOME THEM!!!!!! NO MORE PESKY BABY YEARS. ONLY CAPABLE WATCHER”

“jamie if this is about the larvae throwing up on you the last time you watched them im awful sorry about that—“

“DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG IT TAKES TO GET REGURGITATED EMOTIONS OUT OF IMPORTED CUSTOM MADE GUCCI???? THE HALF DIGESTED REGRET STAINED THE VIBES FOREVER. AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON WHAT THEY DID TO MY JORDANS— DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH 800 PAIRS OF JORDANS COST?? DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO MAKE PLAYER MONEY LOOKING LIKE THIS?”

a deep breath.

“NO MORE BABY WATCHERS! FUCK THEM KIDS. ”

a cheer echos through the room, a near unanimous agreement.

salaxander looks like xier contemplating reducing the dwindling watcher population by one tonight.

DJCJDJVJFJCJDJX no but damn. jokes aside was player eating the first option or did they try other things? it’s not ultimately important, i think, in the scheme of things, but i do think it would be very funny for player eating to be the FIRST resort. like damn y’all saw half an opportunity and jumped on it like vultures on roadkill.

4) re: docs mystery solution i saw someone mention microwaving grian a bit and yknow that one vine where they’re like “GET ON TOP OF THE FRIDGE. GET UP THERE.” and the person climbing the fridge goes “THIS HOUSE IS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE.”? yeah. grian microwave hours.

or or or

grian, getting the Watcher Brain Rumbles: do not contact me i will be microwaved.

someone: what

cut to deep fried image of grian in the microwave with impact font caption being

“he will b

be microwaved”

yeah okay memes MOSTLY aside having to go meditate in the ATROCIOUS vibes room for 30 minutes every day/couple of days beats starving. i’m imagining walking past this thing with like telepathy feels like a concert having a collective panic attack.

5) speaking of docs mystery solution, while i know the fic is focused on grians healing, i’m having fun thinking about the random watcher that sees this and goes “WE COULDVE BEEN DOING THAT THE WHOLE TIME????????” well not random there’s like 40 left but i have to imagine at least one of them is odd enough to go “OH BOY CARDBOARD? SIGN ME UP” we all know someone who would subsist off of like the irl version of soylent green exclusively so i imagine watchers aren’t that different. i’m assuming it’s jamie for my own amusement.

don’t have to bother feeding the baby watchers anymore just stick em in the Microwave Incubator while they flop around.

It’s not Delivery, It’s Docm77’s Mystery Meal Solution!

also side note re the mystery solution i feel like that’s the equivalent of being Watcher Vegan. don’t have any follow up to that lmfaooooo.

wow i did. not expect this to get this long. thank you for your time and i hope you have a wonderful day!

ps: you got a 🍄 anon? i think i’ve sent like four or five asks in the past week so perhaps picking an identifier is not A Bad idea djcjdjxjdjdj

HELLO 3AM MUSHROOM ANON!!! :D ajdhsjdjd ur absolutely free to take the mushroom emoji, i dont think anyone has that rn!!

godspeed on watching secret life, i have a post-finale fic up on ao3 now to read whenever u want if u desire an extra dose of pain LOLOL gods that ending gutted me. ive been deboned like a fucking trout about it

BUT YEAH FOR THE HUNGER AU THINGS...

1.) you raise a really good and interesting point, in that like-- yeah!! the larva didnt have time to be anyone other than Grian, because it was specifically modified from the start to copy over his memory code. the entire time it cannibalized his code, it was copying over those memories, his personality, his stats. from the start, the moment it hatched inside of him it was collecting that data and rapidly copying it over.

i dont necessarily think it was super aware while it was doing that-- i think that as time went on the awareness grew, but it was cloudy and uncertain, not something he remembers very clearly or was processed well. he remembers emergence, of course, and he remembers Player!Grian dying (and feeding on him as he did), but those hazy days before that?? not much more than sense memory, i think.

i think on the Watchers' parts it was an extremely calculated move that came from sheer desperation, and it wasnt made lightly-- Watcher culture is very community oriented, and children are incredibly valuable when you can only reproduce like. once or twice every year or so. it was a calculated risk, but in all honesty, it was less risky to them in the long term than just trying to raise a juvenile from scratch. a child doesnt really know their own limitations; an adult, however, is much more knowledgeable, and in theory is more willing to listen to them when they say "hey if you mess around too much you WILL die." Grian was selected because he was clever and tricky-- the Watchers needed a Player with a quick mind so they could cut down on the amount of teaching they'd need to do..... but what they didnt account for, bc Players are so alien to them (and vice versa) is that ummm . well !!!! Thats Trauma, Babe™<3

it genuinely did not occur to the Watchers that Grian wouldnt want to stay. or, at least, they just didnt consider the traumatic aspect of all this, or the MASSIVE cultural shock. Player cultural values are way different in many ways to Watcher cultural values!!! it was a blind spot they truly didnt account for, and ultimately that was why Grian was able to escape; they just didnt see the attempt coming.

UHHHHHH other than that like-- i dont think the larva had a name?? like, the Watchers cared, of course they cared, but this was about as blank of a canvas as you can get to stretch Grian's memories over. and something to note here for you that you might find interesting-- you mentioned here the horror of the Watchers changing the code of a child who cant consent, and thats super true, it is horrifying.... from ours, and a Player's, perspectives. Watchers are subject to a very orange and blue morality system as opposed to ours, which i find a very neat dissonance in-- yes, its absolutely horrifying for us to contemplate being changed so thoroughly against our autonomy. but for Watchers, who forcibly changed themselves to avoid getting wiped out by the Seekers, who regularly shift code around like its water... thats just a tuesday. idk i just think thats a neat concept to noodle on, and that it highlights how alien their culture is vs ours (and Players, whom are closer to us in terms of cultural similarities)

2.) something something funnier as a system--💥💥💥💥💥💥

3.) i am utterly obsessed with this image youve concocted of the Watcher boardroom (which also might be a consequence of having JUST spent over 5 hrs straight playing Control with my cousin LMFAO) and also,,,,, void cocaine,,,,,, 😭😭😭😭😭 the implication that this is just a normal Watcher board meeting is so fucking funny to me I CAAANT

i dont think it was the first idea they had, because i think they tried for very many years to hold out the normal way-- but with how fragile Watchers are, especially their juveniles, it just wasnt a viable option. so they started looking elsewhere; another option i think they explored was to see if they could try and modify themselves again, but... like i said, Watchers are fragile. capable of really cool crazy things!!!! but theyre a "made of spun sugar and held together with a packet of chewing gum" type beat of an entity, yknow?? forcing another hardcore evolutionary change Just Like That was WAY too risky to try again-- i think a lot of Watchers just straight up didnt survive that initial change, bc when you're fucking with structural code, you're about one misstep away from collapsing like a house of cards.

so thats why they ended up settling on Player conversion, so to speak. it was a calculated way to try and mitigate the heavy infant mortality rates they suffer due to juvenile watchers not understanding their limits-- being able to just skip years of around-the-clock minding and monitoring to make sure a juvenile doesnt die would buy a lot of time for the rest of the Watcher colony to start expanding their numbers, which could eventually bring them back up to a larger population. what they didnt account for, unfortunately, is that there is a HUGE culture difference, and a Player forced to go through something that traumatic is unmmm mm. not going to wanna stick around<3

4.) im so obsessed with how everyone has latched onto the microwave thing wkndejfnekfj its so funny to me bc like i know what Doc's machine is, i know exactly how it functions, i even know the exact components its made of-- im honestly just keeping it a secret for the sake of my own amusement at this point WHEEEEEEEZE so seeing yall go ham in the microwave jokes and the machine speculation is SO funny to me. i cant wait for yall to see what it actually is like im so excited to see the reaction SJDBEJDNSNSN /gen

5.) you're so right, Grian is the equivalent of a vegan Watcher 😭😭😭😭😭😭 SKDNSNDNNSNDKSS

begging to the gods that my readmore works here because holy shit this is a long one. but thank u for the ask and the questions and i am indeed having a wonderful day!!! i hope you have a great one too :] ❤️❤️❤️

[bleachbleachbleach]

1/15 - 1/21/2024

I’d actually forgotten about this, but I started the week with "Kira is intimidating so let's write something else" panic and ended up with 1000 words of unrelated Matsumoto fic. It was one of those writing sessions where I had a floating premise I wanted to explore ("my girlfriend who lives in Rukongai") and then thought about what timeline would be most interesting for it (the immediate aftermath of Isshin’s disappearance), only for the part I actually wrote to end up being mostly about Akon. You know, it happens.

I still have not finished Kira’s chapter, but I am VERY CLOSE. I also noodled a bit in Chapters 14-20, because Kira’s chapter most directly connects to Rose’s (14), though regrettably this does not help me with the first half of the next chapter, which continues to be a large ???

Highs

I understand now why this chapter has to be narrated by "Izuru" and not "Kira" because as the writing has gone on, I keep realizing over and over that *oh* yeah, this is not the Kira this man brings to work, these aren’t even thoughts he would share with his friends; we’re deep in Izuru territory here.

I enjoy writing Kira because you can write some truly batshit things in some truly batshit ways and then be like, yeah, keep that in there actually!! I stand by this (among many other substantially more baroque things): Izuru’s aunts twitter behind him and Izuru imagines his ears wandering down their canals and into the back of his throat. It’s quiet there.

Kira's is an interlude chapter, away from the main action, but I feel like he definitely understands himself as the main character in his own story here. Love that for him, but I'm equally happy about feeling like this chapter has actually more to do with the rest of the fic than I’d previously given it credit for. I think it potentially revisits both the plot and structure of the ending of the previous chapter (Rukia 7) in really interesting ways, and could do well in seting up further exploration in the next chapter (Hisagi's).

Lows

I feel deep deep deep deep shame about a scene I wrote in the very middle of this chapter, and writing every scene that followed required me to return to increasing feelings of shame. I do not yet know whether that means I should take it out because it shouldn’t exist, or if my reasoning about why it should; and why, against most logic, it should be in the *middle* of the rest of this, to boot, is correct, actually. But I did manage to just keep writing, regardless of my level of incredible shame, so there’s that. Not that fun, though.

I feel like I’m learning a lot of things about Kira, and I am trying to just let happen whatever happens, but there’s a lot where I’m just like, okay, but I’m not sure I actually believe that about Kira (and later, Hinamori shows up and then I’m not sure I believe all of these things about her, either). So there’s a lot to sort through, and I’m worried because I don't think the end result is going to be a pile of characterization to sort through; it will be a garden, and there is going to be stuff that needs to be excised but is already seeded into the nerves or I guess like, the root system, of the chapter in ways that will be more complicated than "well, just delete that line, then." 

I also feel like I’m writing the season premiere of a 5th-year CW show, where there’s a lot going on and it’s all a bit unsettled. It’s introducing a new flavor to set apart what’s coming from what came, but it’s also trying to manage four seasons of previous lore and is perhaps high on its own lore supply. Maybe it’s fine because this is, in fact, the beginning of Part 2, and Part 2 is just Weirder. But it’s also Chapter 8, not Chapter 1, and does not functionally have to be the "beginning" of anything; it’s the middle.

[amaraudermind]

I posted 4,476 times in 2022

That's 3,724 more posts than 2021!

207 posts created (5%)

4,269 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@nhum

@batshit-birds

@junkoandthediamonds

@sohotthateveryonedied

@autistic-damian-wayne

I tagged 2,746 of my posts in 2022

Only 39% of my posts had no tags

#bruce wayne - 325 posts

#anyway - 319 posts

#dick grayson - 299 posts

#jason todd - 271 posts

#tim drake - 259 posts

#kon el - 177 posts

#damian wayne - 176 posts

#stephanie brown - 164 posts

#bart allen - 153 posts

#reblog - 142 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#his powers were to mimic other people's powers which is cool but also means if he's on his own or around your average human he has no powers

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Detective Comics #1056

Batman and Robin Vol 1 #9

Cinematic Parallels

120 notes - Posted March 18, 2022

#4

I want Duke to have a solo comic about the day shift but also every few issues some other hero needs a bat's help and he's the one who's available and the other heroes freak out because their powers are randomly stronger and Duke's just like "oh, yeah, lol. That's normal around me." And everyone else is like ????

And I think this should be a frequent part of his solo because other heroes being confused by Duke being Duke will never wear off.

155 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#3

Actually my reasoning for loving Dick and Kori so much is very simple and it's that he's the night and she's his star it's his darkness tempered by her light it's her strength and his wit

It's the way they soften each other's rough edges and see each other for who they are and don't expect anything more or less from each other.

218 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#2

I think so much about how wonderful it would have been for Steph to have been around during We Are Robin.

A whole movement about refusing to cave to fear, about stepping up to protect people when no one else was, about making their own path, about trusting each other to do what's best when they can't trust anyone else.

And Stephanie "There's room in our line of work for hope, too" Brown. The girl who's been fighting for a chance every single step of the way, who refused to back down while she was repeatedly told she wasn't enough, who carved her own path and took on two separate legacies anyway.

She should've been there.

517 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Anyway I see a lot of times people deciding to have the Robins(primarily Tim) looking up to Batman like he's the greatest to ever exist but in reality one of the prerequisites to operating in Gotham is not being fazed by Batman in the slightest.

Nine year old Dick wouldn't let Batman stand in the way of him committing murder until Batman made him his partner and redirected his energy.

Twelve year old Jason was unfazed enough to steal his tires and hit him with a tire iron.

Tim became Robin because Batman was in a self-destructive spiral.

Steph met Batman and immediately disregarded everything he said in order to try to commit murder.

Babs routinely tells Bruce to fuck off when he tries to tell her what to do.

Damian told Batman to his face that they were better off without him.

Cass is an outlier who sees the Bat as the ultimate goal, but even she grew to respect the symbol over all else, and stand up to Bruce when he doesn't live up to that symbol.

Duke disrespected a different Batman(Jim "Batmech" Gordon) but was unfazed nonetheless as proven by his efforts with the We Are Robin movement (but also: look at any interaction of him with Batman. He speaks and does not consider his audience ever)

In short, they all know how pathetic Batman is and will make fun of him at every opportunity

1,644 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[eriexplosion]

Okay, picking back up just after the test battle.

The counter report saying Caleb escaped is fascinating to me because like when the hell did Crosshair get the time to file that? Is he sitting in his box fortress TYPING INTENTLY while everyone just watches wondering what his problem is? Did he even know how to file a report before this or did he have to look it up?

"You got shot. It happens all the time." and Hunter looks SO suspect. Honestly they really could have called Crosshair being affected by the same programming so much earlier, but I think they just didn't want it to be the case. If they let it go long enough he'll probably be fine and back to normal right? The guilt possibilities here are Huge.

I just don't like Tarkin inspecting them. Terrible vibes. Get away from the Batch old man.

When they land on Onderon Wrecker going WELL AT LEAST IT'S NOT A SWAMP while stomping is adorable. And then him and Tech's little back and forth about Your Programming's Kicking In and Wrecker just fucking. YEETING HIM FORWARD WITH A BACK SLAP. I JUST ADORE THEM.

Crosshair just chomping at the bit when will he get the order to murder he craves to murder, they were ordered to MURDER. I do think it's interesting that he's waiting for Hunter to make the call when he already HAS the orders to eliminate everyone there. And of course, when told to stand down he hesitates but eventually gives his GREAT BIG SIGH OF RESENTMENT and does what he's told. I really really want to see a Crosshair that never got his chip enhanced, I just think there's potential there. If nothing else, half-chipped Crosshair is HILARIOUS.

God I hope these little kids got out before The Events of Replacements.

SAW. I genuinely do love him, his entire life has been twisted by fighting wars and he doesn't have any other view of the world, especially after losing his sister, and I just. *grabby hands* want more Saw in season 3, they met him in both seasons so far, give us a third one. Especially if Crosshair is with them because oof the fucking. Drama Potential.

Speaking of Crosshair "Is that a request" at the man holding the gun so glad that the chip does not do anything like boost your survival instincts, Cross.

Genuinely the way everyone side eyes him is SO funny. Freak of a sniper is trying to get everyone killed because even under Imperial Mind Control he cannot resist mouthing off.

Seriously, Saw kneeling down to interact with the kids is An Emotion for me, every time we glance in on him he's further along the downward questionable morals spiral but he does always care Intently, that never changes even when he's been pushed into his worst.

THE GUN FLIP TO HAND IT BACK TO HUNTER WHILE TALKING REMAINS ONE OF MY FAVORITE THINGS.

Another thing that is one of my favorites is Hunter drawing and shooting over Crosshair's shoulder mid argument with Crosshair not even flinching.

He's so fucking argumentative just to be difficult. MAYBE THEY'RE NOT INNOCENT CIVILIANS. MAYBE THE JEDI DID SPY ON US. Crosshair talks so much more during this episode than others and he spends every single sentence saying something batshit.

"She's one of us. We're not leaving her there." And then they have to leave Crosshair there, I am UNWELL. Let them stop having to leave people behind please.

I paused perhaps a bit too long on when they're all shoved in the brig. Sue me, they don't get put in skintight outfits enough I have to enjoy it while it's there.

Wrecker trying to ease the tension again and it simply does nothing because Crosshair is DETERMINED to have a fight. He will get the tensions sky high like it or not.

I love/hate the detail of being able to see Crosshair react to the chip, and that it comes right after Tech's line about not knowing that disobeying orders was a problem, like the chip has to push back on that because Crosshair knows Tech's right, just there has to be so much going on in his head right now.

OMEGA <3 <3 <3 darling child is an angel, I get feels every time she says it's not his fault. I wish he could remember that.

Also am hit in the feels by Hunter insisting they all stay together, yes Crosshair is going absolutely insane but it doesn't matter, they're a squad and they stay together. Sure it doesn't work out that way, but he TRIED. And Crosshair's reaction to it is understated but also so good. The unenhanced chip was not enough to totally break their bond it took SO MUCH to finally break Crosshair away from them all.

The chip enhancement scene just looks so fucking painful. There's smoke coming off his fucking head. At least we have the immediate follow up cute moment of Omega copying Hunter in the brig and Tech's adorable leg jiggle so I don't have to sit with the horror for too long but damn.

Form a wall of extremely natural behavior to hide that Wrecker is going to punch their way out of the cell. Echo is examining their nails through their fucking gloves for gods sake.

Also shout out to Tech being able to bend metal with his bare hands.

The music on Crosshair coming out after being fully taken over is fantastic, just, the Agony is real.

Tech is already inside the ship did he even know just who was attacking them until they got on the ship without Crosshair oh my god. (Wonder how that affected his opinion on the whole going back for him thing, like, he's the only one that didn't see Crosshair coming out like that, didn't have that instant shock of being shot at by him)

Shooting Wrecker after the whole 'you got shot, it happens all the time' is also The Agonies. Just. GOD this whole scene is so fucking good.

Hunter trying very hard to relate to the child and looking blatantly uncomfortable the whole time. I like the quiet exhaustion of everyone else contrasted with Omega's full childlike wonder about space, THE LAYERS ARE THERE.

Rewatching Aftermath and I keep pausing to squeal because of my just. Unhinged affection for them. Favorite things thus far (5 whole minutes) are:

Unhinged Tech behavior. Smacking a droid with his datapad just because, going up to already doomed tanks like CLANKER CATCH and throwing a droid popper, immediately becoming a recluse when he meets someone new and giving the LEAST INVESTED WAVE I HAVE EVER SEEN and a .2 second glance.

Seriously Crosshair is more polite with his very Serious Nod.

Our briefest glimpse of Hunter without depression and Crosshair without uh. ALL OF THAT. We get like a minute with them like this before Events pile drive them both into the floor.

ECHO SCOMP SALUTE <3

Wrecker just straight up having a completely unburdened good time, I want this for him again.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Fury

Prompts: Could we get a sequel to rage? Because I really enjoy batshit Roman and Logan, along with supportive Virgil and Remus. Preferably Patton and Janus continuing having their head in their asses, and Roman and Logan knocking some sense into them. - anon

Both Roman and Remus give tank vibes (in the RPG sense) to me, and also tend to have self-destructive issues. Could I request a fic or AU where both of them keep trying to take the hits for everyone else, and tell each other "you need to stop getting hurt" but can't recognize it in themself? And eventually the rest of the group sits them down and goes "we love you, we want you to be safe, please don't do this?" - anon

May I please request some c!thomas angst? Maybe some my-sides-are-arguing-and-it’s-getting-painfully-overwhelming flavored? - anon

I am way late, I know, but Thomas's birthday is tomorrow, from my timezone at least, so something centered around character him would be lovely (especially in your awesome writing!!) Maybe something with the sides showing the their love for him and/or him expressing it back somehow? I think their relationships can be so cute but from what I've seen people don't often write about them sadly. Thank you for considering this, and extra thanks if you write it! (Ps: sorry this was long 😅)

happy b-day thomathy sand dollar

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: some allusions to manipulation and guilt tripping

Pairings: logince, platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 5278

His ears are ringing. That’s funny. They don’t normally do that.

His ears are ringing. That’s funny. They don’t normally do that. Maybe there’s a bell going off somewhere. Or there are sirens driving by outside. No, no, this is a bit too high-pitched for that. What was it that Logan called it again? Oh, right. Tinnitus. That’s what’s going on. Wait, does he have tinnitus? He doesn’t think so. He keeps his headphones on a reasonable volume thanks to Logan anyway, it’s not normally quick onset like this, is it?

“All I’m saying is—“

“All you’re saying is we completely disregard the progress we’ve made in favor of sliding back into patterns of thinking that have done nothing but harm us, yes, I can see why you think this is a perfectly rational course of action.”

“That’s not what I’m saying! Stop twisting my words!”

The ringing is getting worse. His temples start to throb. He doesn’t remember that being part of Logan’s description of tinnitus. Maybe that isn’t what this is. But then what could it be?

“Janus, if you don’t have anything useful to contribute—“

“Wow, perhaps I should’ve imitated you again, then I would be listened to, right?”

“Hey! Not cool, you slippery snake, that was out of line!”

“And you never color outside the lines, do you?”

He blinks. That’s funny. He thought he was looking up at the Sides. Why is he staring down at the carpet? It’s a nice carpet, though, so maybe he doesn’t mind looking at it. There’s a stain there. Did he spill something?

“Kiddos, kiddos, let’s all just calm down now. There’s been a lot of aggression from both sides, so let’s just—“

“Both sides?”

“There are more than two of us talking, Patton.”

“Both sides of the argument, Logan, that’s what I mean. So let’s all just take a deep breath and—“

“Are you kidding me? He’s the one who’s insulting us! We’re just standing here!”

“You aren’t just standing there, you’re disagreeing with him.”

“And disagreeing is enough to be insulted and degraded like that?”

“Wow, Roman, so sensitive. There’s no need for you to get so upset.”

“Yeah, kiddo, you just need to calm down. Then we can talk about this calmly and rationally, just like Logan wants, okay?”

“You realize we’ve tried that already, right? That’s how we started this conversation!”

Someone snorts. “You remember three years ago when we started this conversation?”

“I believe it’s only been about thirty-five minutes.”

“I was exaggerating for dramatic effect, L.”

“Ah.”

“But Roman, you aren’t being very open-minded about this.”

His chest hurts now. Why does his chest hurt? Is it because he’s thinking about how long it’s going to take to clean the carpet? It’s not that bad of a stain. It must’ve just been tea he spilled. Or juice. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he spilled some juice and he has to clean it up. If he could move, he would go and do that. He should go and do that now. 

But there’s something he’s forgetting. 

“You have to try and compromise, Roman, that’s the only way this is going to resolve amicably.”

“Come on, kiddo, you’ve done so well with it before, just calm down and then we’ll keep going, okay?”

“Well, I’m not sure I can wait that long, as long as he’s not about to fire off on all cylinders…”

“Janus, just be patient with him.”

A sharp pain shoots through Thomas’s chest and an ache blooms on his cheek. 

Right. 

Right. 

He’d been having trouble deciding whether or not to go to one of his friend’s gallery openings. It was on a day they were free, by design, and they should be able to go. But the reason that day was free was because they’d arranged his schedule so he could have a free day, absent of any obligations or work requirements. If he went to the gallery opening, it wouldn’t be a free day anymore. 

Right, right, that’s why everyone’s so mad. 

Thomas winces as he feels a hand rub against the warmth on his face. His eyes still haven’t left the carpet, head pounding and chest aching. They’ve been fighting for—oh, what was it that Logan said, over half an hour now? And they’d made no progress. 

Because Roman had suggested that one two-hour commitment might be nice since it was something Thomas would enjoy anyway and supporting his friend would be nice too, but Janus had doubled down on this being a free day and Patton had agreed that it would be wrong of them to go to make themselves feel better and—

“Holy shit, Princey, that—that looks bad.”

“It’s fine.”

Patton sighs, disappointment strong enough for Thomas’s chest to ache with renewed zeal, “Roman, you don’t need to be so dramatic.”

“Faking a bruise? Really?” The condescension and scorn in Janus’s words make his stomach turn. “Next you’ll be telling us you need time to ‘recover’ before we can continue.”

Thomas feels cold. It isn’t cold in his apartment. Why does he feel cold? It is always cold? He tries to open and close his hands but they won’t respond. That’s weird. 

“Hey, assholes, why don’t you back off for a second?”

“Language!”

“Not the time, Patton, now shut up and let Roman be.”

“My, my, Virgil, how rude. You shouldn’t talk to your father like that.”

“We’re all the same age, you dick!”

There’s a shocked inhale. How did Patton manage to breathe in so sharply? He should try it to see if it’s possible. 

“There’s no need for such rudeness, Virgil, look what you’ve done.”

“What I’ve done? What about what you’ve done?”

“I’m not the one shouting!”

“You’re shouting right now!”

“But we didn’t start it, Virgil, you know that—“

“Actually, if we’re counting ‘who started it’ by who devolved into petty insults and making things personal, I believe you did start it.”

“And I’d never dream of disagreeing with you, Logan, what kind of monster would I be if I did that?”

Try as he might, he just can’t mimic the gasp Patton did. Why not? His chest doesn’t want to expand. That’s annoying. What if he needs to breathe?

What if he needs to breathe?

He needs to breathe?

He needs to breathe. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

He needs to breathe. 

The realization of what’s going on slams into Thomas. He can’t breathe. He’s not breathing. His head is pounding and his chest is aching and his face stings and his ears ring and he can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe. 

“Hey.”

The noise of the room dulls out into a soft mumble as someone speaks into his ears. 

“Hey, Tommy-Boy. Thomas. Thomas.”

Remus. That’s Remus he’s hearing. 

“Sure is, Thomas. Just me. You’re not doing so good right now, and that’s okay, but I’m gonna need you to focus on me for a moment, ‘kay? You’re doing great right now, just stay with me.”

Remus. Remus. He can hear Remus. Remus’s voice is soft and careful and he grabs onto it with both hands. 

“That’s it, you just stay with me here. I know breathing is hard but you gotta take a breath, okay? Go slow, then it won’t hurt so much.”

Remus begins to guide him through breathing. This is good. This is fine. He can do this. 

“You sure can, Thomas, you’re doing really good. Just another slow breath, okay? That’s all you gotta do. Just like that.”

Thomas closes his eyes and draws another slow breath in through his nose, out through his mouth. It stings a little as it hits the back of his throat but Remus shushes him carefully. 

“It’s okay, Thomas, just keep it nice and slow. You’re doing great, just keep coming out of it for me. Shouldn’t be too hard, you’ve done it before, yeah?”

What’s happening? What’s happening to me?

“Your Ego is taking the brunt of the battering that’s happening right now,” Remus explains softly, “so you’re not feeling too good. Roro’s doing his best to keep the worst of it away from you, but there’s only so much he can do while he’s getting treated like this.”

His mind drifts to the throbbing in his cheek. 

“Yeah, that’s a bruise. Not on you, on Roro. It’s okay, Thomas, you’re okay. Just keep breathing and come out of it, okay? This is temporary, it won’t last forever.”

After what seems like forever, but can’t be longer than a few minutes, Thomas finally takes a deep breath that reaches all of his lungs and blinks. 

Wow, okay, his neck is sore. How long has he been staring at the ground? He winces, rolling it around a few times before looking up at the rest of the room. 

The Sides are looking at him. Some of them look sympathetic, some of them look curious, some of them look annoyed. At him?

“No, Thomas,” Remus says, still speaking softly, “not at you.”

“You got overwhelmed,” Virgil says, usual growl softened to a low rumble, “that’s all. Sorry it took me so long to notice.”

Thomas shakes his head. “I, uh, that hasn’t happened to me before. Not like that.”

“My guess is that having all of us—“ Logan motions around the room— “arguing like that was…doing the equivalent metaphysically ripping you apart.”

Thomas winces. “Yeah, that, uh…mhm.”

“My apologies for not noticing sooner.”

“No, no, you guys were…busy.”

“'Were,’ yes,” Logan says, a little sharper, before turning to address the others, “but we’re done for today.”

“What?” Patton blinks. “But we haven’t come to a decision!”

“That is correct,” Logan continues, the chill in his voice making the hairs on Thomas’s arm stand on end, “but we will not make a decision at the expense of Thomas’s well-being. Ergo, we are finished for the day.”

“And you get to make that decision all by yourself, do you?”

“He’s not by himself,” Roman says lowly, turning to face Patton and Janus, “I agree with him.”

“Well, there’s a surprise.”

“Me too,” Virgil growls. 

“And me.” Without waiting for anything else, Remus stretches his arms out—Thomas hides a gag—and grabs Patton’s shoulder and Janus’s elbow. “Bye!”

Virgil rolls his eyes a little fondly as the three sink out, shooting a look at Thomas. “You gonna be okay if I leave?”

“Y-yeah, Virgil, uh, thanks.”

Virgil tips a lazy two-fingered salute as he sinks out. Logan glances at Roman. The two exchange a look and a nod that—okay, Thomas is missing something here. But then Logan turns to him and his expression softens. 

“Do you want one of us to stay with you for a little while?”

Thomas rubs his arm, trying to get the goosebumps out. “Um…”

“Let me,” Roman says softly, “I can help, if you want. Seeing as it’s…well, me that’s hurting.”

“It’s not your fault, Roman.”

“I didn’t say it was.” He takes a step closer. “But I am the part of you that’s hurt.”

Thomas falters and Logan nods carefully. 

“Roman will take care of you,” he promises, “or…perhaps you will take care of each other.”

Thomas looks between them. “Will you two…explain? Later, maybe? You seem…something feels different.”

Roman huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Later, Thomas, we will do our best to explain. But for right now, why don’t you take care of yourself?”

“Okay.”

Logan smiles, a soft thing that he hasn’t seen in a long time, and sinks out. 

“Thomas,” Roman says, his expression still soft and compassionate despite the—ouch, despite the huge bruise on the left side of his face, “can I come over to you?”

“Uh, yeah, buddy, you can do what you want.”

“Thank you.” Roman walks over to him and whoa, okay, that’s a bit weird. Yeah, he knows the Sides can move and stuff, but he’s not normally this close to them. “Thomas?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

“You sure?” Roman tilts his head and frowns. “You seem a bit…well, discombobulated.”

The memory of the ‘discombobulate’ clip from that one Sherlock movie springs unbidden into his head and he can’t help but giggle at it. Roman smiles with him. 

“What?”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just…discombobulate.”

Roman throws his head back in a louder laugh. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to discombobulate you.”

“That’s such a good word.”

“What, discombobulate?”

“Yes.”

“I have to say it in the accent, don’t I?”

Thomas screws up his face and puts on the worst posh British accent he can think of. “Discombobulate.”

“Discombobulate.”

“That’s it!”

Roman shakes his head, still laughing. “RDJ would be proud of us.”

“We’ll put it on the list of things to do if we meet him, right?”

“When, Thomas,” Roman says grandly, his hands sweeping up into his normal dramatic gesture, “when we meet him.”

“Yeah, okay.”

At the quietly resigned note in his voice, Roman softens, the brazen grin going back to something a little kinder as he stands up and nods to the couch. Thomas goes, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. After a moment, he feels the couch sink as Roman sits next to him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“What is there to talk about?” Thomas groans and flops back onto the couch. “If I go, I’m either being selfish and doing it to make myself feel better, or I’m putting someone else’s wants above my needs again. Or I’m being selfish by staying in and not going to support my friend, or I’m taking care of myself regardless of how bad I feel about not going.”

“That wasn’t what I meant,” Roman chides lightly, “I meant do you want to talk about how you’re feeling right now.”

Thomas blinks. “I…um…”

“I’m your Ego, Thomas,” Roman says when Thomas can’t find any more words, “I’m the you that gets hurt when things go wrong. I can tell you what I’m feeling right now, but it might help more if you do it.”

“Um…well, my face still kind of hurts.”

Roman nods encouragingly. “What else?”

“My chest feels…heavy? Almost like there’s a weight attached to it?”

“Mhm.”

“And, um…my ears are still ringing. I can’t…it, um…it’s not good.”

“Here,” Roman suggests, prompting Thomas to sit up a bit, “cover your ears with your hands and drum your fingers on the back of your head, just here.”

Thomas tries, a little doubtful, only for the soothing taps on the back of his head to banish the worst of the whining from his ears. His eyes widen and he looks up at Roman. 

“Better, I take it, yeah?”

“Yeah, loads better, how did you…?”

“Logan,” Roman says, “he and Virgil—since they’re both part of the Left Brain, they can get into feedback loops with each other and I don’t know if you know this about Virgil, but he really likes to crank the volume on his headphones.”

Thomas shudders. “I can imagine.”

Roman chuckles. “So…Logan taught me how to cope with it and it helps me when Remus and I are bleeding too much.”

“Wait, what? You bleed?”

“Shh, shh, not like that, calm down. Just ‘cause we’re both Creativity, sometimes when we get excited we tend to, uh, the lines between our parts of Creativity can get a bit messy.”

“So it…doesn’t hurt?”

“No, Thomas, it doesn’t hurt.”

Thomas accepts it with a nod. They sit on the couch in silence for a bit, as the throbbing pain begins to ease and they can relax into the cushions. Thomas glances over to see the bruise fading away from Roman’s cheek. His eyes are closed and he looks…peaceful. 

“I’d tell you to take a picture,” he says out of nowhere, startling Thomas, “but you see our face every day, don’t you?”

“Sorry, I, um…”

Roman chuckles. “It’s your face, Thomas, you’re allowed to look.”

He cracks an eye open when Thomas stays quiet. 

“Or ask me any questions you have.”

“What…happened?” He shifts a little closer on the couch. “You and Logan and Remus, you…last I remember, you were all a bit…”

“At each other’s throats?”

“Yeah.”

Roman sighs, some of the peaceful energy slipping away and for a moment, Thomas wants to retreat the question, try and give some of it back, but Roman speaks. 

“We had a talk.” He shifts. “Or, well…talking was involved. Basically, we went to a rage room Remus made.”

“A…rage room?”

“A room full of things designed to be broken so you can let your anger out.”

Thomas blinks. That…doesn’t sound like the Roman and Logan he knows. Remus, sure, but…these two? “…why?”

Some part of him bristles and the question and he winces. 

“Sorry if that was rude, I just—“

“No, Thomas, it’s alright, I don’t mind telling you.” Roman sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I just—the last time someone asked me that question, it wasn’t with the same—they didn’t ask it like you did.”

“…how did they ask it?”

“The same way you would ask someone why they still wholeheartedly support the Harry Potter franchise even after all that’s happened and the new game has been announced.”

“Oh.” He frowns. “Wait, who—“

“One question at a time,” Roman laughs, sitting up a little more. “Logan and I went because Remus and Virgil suggested it. And they were right, it did feel good. We, uh, had a talk before and realized we were more on the same side of things than we thought. It was nice. A good bonding experience.”

Despite himself, Thomas smiles. “Baby’s first act of civil disobedience?”

Roman grins. “Exactly. Ooh, I should look for Captain America’s shield next time. Really beat the toast out of some anti-homeless architecture for flavor.”

“I’m sure Logan would be down with that.”

“Me too.”

They laugh for a moment before Thomas swallows. “…so who…?”

The last of the humor disappears from Roman’s expression and he sighs. “I’m not telling you this because I think it’s your fault, I’m telling you this because you asked for it, okay?”

“Uh…do you want me to un-ask for it?”

Instead of the laugh he thinks he might get, Roman just sighs again. “No, Thomas, you…you have a right to know. It’s your Sides that are the problem.”

Thomas sits up a bit more as Roman turns to face him. 

“Can you answer me one question before I tell you? Honestly?”

“Yeah, Roman, I can.”

Roman hesitates. “Do you…do you think Patton and Janus treat me or Logan fairly?” 

Thomas blinks. And blinks. And blinks again. Not the question he was expecting to have to answer. 

Do they?

Roman is…well, Roman isn’t really shy about what he wants, is he? He’s loud and extravagant and insists on things, so…

Wait, is he?

Thomas furrows his brow. 

The last time Roman wanted something it was…the callback. And he didn’t—the whole point of that was that he sent Thomas to the wedding. Which he didn’t want. And then with the wedding, he…well, after the wedding he didn’t do much. That was Patton and Janus fighting. 

But hasn’t it always been Patton and Janus fighting? The two of them disagreeing over what was going on? What Thomas was doing? Since when did Roman come into it?

The last time Roman stood up for what he wanted until Thomas shut it down was…was…

Guys and Dolls. 

And then Janus had impersonated Patton. And then there had been the wedding. And then—and then—

And Logan, gosh, what happened to Logan? 

They’d excluded him from the trial, Janus had impersonated him so many times, they’d…

Oh, god. 

Roman is still looking at him, waiting for an answer. 

“No,” Thomas whispers, “no, I don’t think they do.”

The sudden wave of relief that crashes over Roman takes him by surprise, especially when the bruise suddenly vanishes and the pain fades. Another smile comes to his face but it glows now, it looks—Roman looks at him and smiles and Thomas smiles back. 

“You have no idea how much that means to me,” Roman murmurs, still smiling, “thank you, Thomas.”

He nods. 

“So…Logan and I were talking about that, and uh, we got…a bit frustrated.”

“I think that’s fair.”

“And then Remus and Virgil heard what we were talking about and they suggested the rage room.”

A bit of dread curls in Thomas’s stomach. “Did…did Patton and Janus…?”

A darkness flitters across Roman’s gaze. “They weren’t the most receptive to the idea.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it,” Thomas says bitterly, “they’re my Sides.”

“Yes, they represent part of you and how you think, but you’re not completely responsible for them.”

“So what do I do? I don’t want them to be mean to you! If you—if you need something, I should listen to it!”

Roman just stares at him, a soft smile playing on his lips again. 

“Oh.” Thomas’s eyes widen. “Oh.”

“In a roundabout way,” Roman says quietly, “I think I’ve just done what Janus has been pushing you to do. Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Thomas promises, reaching out as Roman rests a hand on his shoulder, “I promise, I will.”

“That’s the spirit.” His mouth curls up higher. “You know what I think we should do now?”

“Watch that discombobulate clip until I can’t stop laughing at it?”

“You read my mind.”

“My mind.”

“You’re in charge!”

As soon as Remus sinks them into the Mindscape, he squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. Into battle. 

“Remus!” Patton crosses his arms and glares at him. “That was inappropriate! We do not sink other Sides without their permission!”

“You’re fine, Dad-bot, you’re not hurt.” Remus flicks a speck of grime from his sash. “Besides, I was helping Thomathy, doesn’t that count for something?”

“Oh, sure,” Janus drawls in that voice that never fails to set Remus’s teeth on edge, “you did just what we wanted, how very good for you.”

Remus grits his teeth. “Like you can talk.”

“Oh, but I can.” Janus grins and his teeth glimmer. “Quite well, in fact.”

“We were in the middle of a conversation, Remus, you can’t just sink us mid-conversation!”

“Wrong!” Remus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet. “You were in the middle of being giant whale penises to Logan and Roman. I was in the middle of trying to keep Thomas from dissociating so hard we ceased to exist. We are not the same.”

“You don’t need to exaggerate, Remus.”

“He’s not exaggerating,” Virgil says, appearing next to Remus, “that was bad, you guys. Like, really bad.”

“Mm.” Janus fixes him with a look. “Bad enough that you didn’t notice it?”

Virgil glowers. “Yeah. If it’s bad enough that I can forget Thomas exists, that’s how much he’s out of his head, me, the literal embodiment of worrying about Thomas, then yeah, Janus, that’s bad.”

Janus looks at Virgil for a long time, before nodding once. Silent. A concession, not an apology. 

“Well,” Patton says, clearly doubling down, “then that’s even more reason why you shouldn’t have done that, Remus! You know that speaking directly to Thomas like that can be dangerous, just look at what happened last time?”

Remus growls. “What, me showing up? Is that the big bad boogeyman that you think about? Just me? I don’t know whether I should be flattered or insulted.”

“My, my,” Janus says, his voice sharper now, “how polite, Remus, it seems your manners haven’t gone anywhere at all.”

“Oh, I’ll show you manners.”

“Remus,” Virgil says quietly, “don’t, you���ll just do what they want.”

“Yes, Remus,” Janus drawls, “don’t do what we want, we’re the bad guys, remember?”

“Don’t,” Virgil says sharply, pointing a stern finger at him, “you don’t get to play that card. Not now, not after what just happened.” “And of course, I wouldn’t dream of doing anything without your express permission.”

Virgil is saved from having to respond to that when Logan rises up next to him. “Hey, how are they? All good?”

“Yes. Roman is going to stay and help Thomas recover a little more.”

“Good. You okay?”

Logan nods as Virgil knocks their elbows together. 

Their attention is drawn back when Patton straightens up and fixes Remus with a look. “I just don’t understand why you did that. We all could’ve helped Thomas recover, but you didn’t let us make that decision.”

“You did,” Remus growls, “you did make that decision, when you didn’t look at the consequences of your little argument long enough to realize what you were doing. That disqualifies you from helping. Go straight to gay baby jail, do not pass Go, do not collect two hundred goat testicles.”

“Yeah, that’s how I remember the game going too,” Virgil mutters. 

“It was going fine!” Patton pushes his glasses up his nose. “You just messed things up like you always do!”

Remus goes still. 

“Is that what you think I do,” he asks in a soft, dangerous voice, “you think I just mess things up?”

Patton falters. “W-well—“

“No wonder Roro’s so fucked up,” Remus spits, making Logan flinch, “if this is who he grew up with. At least Janny’s honest about being a lying liar who lies about things.”

Patton recoils as if Remus has struck him and Janus moves protectively in front of him, glaring at Remus. Remus returns the glare with equal fervor. 

Janus is the first to look away. 

Virgil just shrugs and glares when he tries to look at him and eventually, his gaze comes to rest on Logan. 

“Come on, Logan,” he says, trying for coaxing and missing, “surely you don’t think this is all necessary?”

Logan just blinks. “Do you think my opinion will be valuable in this situation?”

“You’re Logic, aren’t you? What does Logic have to say about this?”

“I’m confused, are you asking for Logic or Logan?”

Janus rolls his eyes. “What’s the difference?”

“The difference is Logic would be able to tell you how rude and inconsiderate you’re being without getting upset,” Logan says, his control over his voice beginning to slip, “I as Logan, however, will not. And I will add that you are being cruel.”

“Oh, for the love of—if this is about—“

“Yes, this is about that,” Logan snaps, “and about impersonating me, and about everything else you’ve done in the name of Thomas when all you’ve been doing is clawing your way into a better standing with him at our expense.”

“You get them, L,” Virgil mutters.

“Logan,” Patton says quietly, a hand on his chest, “I have never—“

“Oh, fuck off,” Remus sighs, “you pressed the ‘skip all’ button, and a shit ton of other stuff.”

“And, in case you’ve forgotten,” Virgil says, “you did just bruise Roman right in front of everyone.”

“You have no proof that was me!”

Remus opens his mouth to snap at him when he feels a familiar tingle in his fingers. “Why don’t we ask him?”

Indeed, Roman rises up into the Mindscape and Logan has to blink. 

Roman is glowing. 

Not just because he’s wearing white, there’s a soft light emanating from him that makes Patton and Janus take a step back. Although judging by the hunch of his shoulders, it’s equally likely that he’s glaring at them so hard they move back. 

“Congratulations, Janus,” Roman says and oh, that’s new, “I think I’ve just gotten what you’ve been pushing for this whole time.”

Janus swallows. “And what would that be?”

“Thomas is going to start listening to himself,” Roman says as he walks toward him, “he’s going to start paying attention to what he wants and what he needs. He’s going to start making sure he’s kinder to himself about that.”

Janus blinks. 

“That is what you want, isn’t it?”

“Y-yes?”

“Good. Then yes, Janus, you’re welcome.”

Patton clears his throat. “And why are you taking credit for this?”

Next to him, Janus goes white. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, “oh, oh, oh, no, Roman, I’m—I’m so sorry.”

Roman turns to look at Patton. “Because the part of Thomas that wants, that is the loudest about when Thomas needs taking care of, that part that Thomas hasn’t been listening to, is me.”

“Roman is the Ego,” Logan supplements quietly, “and he’s the one that gets bruised every time Thomas gets hurt.”

“Oh, Roman,” Janus mumbles, staring at him like he’s never seen him before, “Roman, I’m—I—“

Roman’s hands tremble where they’re clenched next to his sides. “I know.”

Patton looks back and forth between Roman and Janus, his gaze growing increasingly frantic. “But—but Roman, we do listen to you, we—“

Roman just lets out a mirthless laugh. 

“—you’re always arguing with us,” Patton tries instead, protests growing weaker by the second, “and we—“

“You’re so preoccupied with the fact that you and Janus are agreeing after so long that you’ve forgotten it’s your fault we’re all like this.”

Patton does flinch at that, his mouth open, staring at Roman. 

“It’s true,” Logan says, a little kinder, “you and Janus…when you started to disagree, you split us up. And your disagreement filtered down to all of us. And now that you both agree again…”

He trails off. 

“They’re telling the truth,” Janus says very quietly. 

Patton looks around at all of them. “No…no, no, that can’t be right, it can’t…no—“

Roman’s fists shake. Remus steps forward and pulls him back a few paces, muttering in his ear. 

“Don’t. We’re both bad about taking hits, you’ve taken enough today.”

“He’s not going to understand,” Roman hisses, “not right now, we...I’m done for.”

“You aren’t,” Logan says as Virgil nods, “you’re going to be fine.”

Patton raises his head slowly. His fists tremble at his sides too. “We’ve all had a very hard day,” he says instead of addressing anything that’s happened so far, “so we’re all going to calm down—“

“Aren’t you tired of being nice?”

The room pauses. Roman looks at Logan. Logan looks back. 

“Aren’t you tired of being nice,” Logan repeats, “don’t you just want to go apeshit?”

Roman grins. “Yeah, Specs. I really do.”

Remus cackles with glee and sinks them out.

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[shurisneakers]

harmless (ii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, stealing cultural landmarks, frustrated bucky

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: made a header 4 this fic but i couldn’t take it seriously enough <3 

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! it’s always fun to hear from y’all. 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

It’s roughly a week before he sees you next.

Right on time too, according to the briefings he had received. Once a week you’d come up with your next batshit crazy idea and someone would be sent to make sure you didn’t execute it.

It was more of a babysitting gig than anything. Most people would do one, maybe two assignments before asking to not be sent again. 

He was not most people. He volunteers to go again. His afternoon is relatively free and he’s bored. 

Also, and more importantly, he needs to get out of the house before Sam finds out what he did.

“You’ll find her near the Statue of Liberty.”

“How do we know?”

“Oh, she tells us.”

“...she tells us where to find her?”

“Most times, yes. She says it’s time efficient.”

Absurd. He thinks you’re absurd.

Bucky finds you in line to board the ferry. You’re dressed to the nines like an obnoxious tourist, even though you were a local, topped with binoculars and a bucket hat. 

On an unrelated note, he thinks that maybe the mission today is to kill you for daring to wear sandals with socks like a suburban dad. A shudder runs through his body when he sees it.  

He’s wearing all black and a baseball cap. Somehow he’s standing out more than you are.

He boards the ferry behind you, keeping a close eye on all your movements. You take your place near the railing, a seat near the front of the boat. 

His phone rings. He answers it, expecting Sam to screech at him for painting Redwing neon pink again. He should have known it was coming after he shoved Bucky off the quinjet before he had time to strap his parachute on properly. 

“I thought I told you to bring a cape.” 

He quickly looks up at you but you’re not facing him. You have your phone held up to your ear, however.

“How did you get this number?” he asks icily.

“I knew you’d show up again.” Your head tilts to look at the statue in the distance. “Also, thanks for the door money, but I’m not sure I appreciate how you think the least creepy way to give someone money is to drop it off anonymously at their doorstep.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He swiftly gets up, stalking over to where you’re sitting. He was advised not to do anything aggressive. Advised was a flexible word. 

“Because I wasn’t going to answer it.” You look up at his figure looming over you. “Oh, hey.”

The phone is still pressed to the side of your face even though he’s right beside you. He cuts the call, shoving it back into his pocket.

“Allow me to introduce my pl-”

“What are you doing here?” He cuts to the chase. 

You send him a glare. “I was going to say it before you told me to. And sit down before everyone thinks you’re going to kill me.”

“Why are you going there?” He doesn’t have time for this, he thinks. He has important things to do. Like watching the reruns of Masterchef Junior. 

He sits in the seat beside you.

“Look at us.” You grin at him. “Me with the evilest outfit I could think of, you with your... Addams Family cosplay. We’re like, two peas in a po-”

“Start explaining,” he interjects. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m going to shrink the Statue of Liberty and use it as a keychain.”

“What?” It’s probably the most benign plan he’s ever heard in his life.

“I’m kidding.” Oh, good. “I’m not using it as a keychain, I’m taking it to class.” Nevermind. 

“What?” He finds himself repeating his previous question.

“I’m shrinking all the statues I can find. I want to use it in my classroom to teach the kids.”

“You’re... a teacher?” He blinks.

“You got a problem with that?” You look offended, to say the least. 

“No.” It’s not what he would peg your occupation as. He didn’t think you had one at all. “How are you planning on shrinking it?”

You rummage through the ugliest fanny pack he has ever had the misfortune of seeing. You pull out a small ring box, complete with a bow tied neatly on top. 

“I was saving this for our third anniversary, but-” you offer him a nervous laugh.

His stony expression doesn’t change, not even a blink. 

“Fine, Jesus, you’re no fun,” you huff, dropping the emotional act when he doesn’t look amused. 

You flip open the lid. Inside there are a few small disks. It looks familiar, he realises.

“Your friend Ant-Boy didn’t file a patent, so I just took his whole shtick.” He wants to defend Scott’s honour; it’s Ant-Man not boy. He doesn’t. He’s too transfixed on what you have in your hand.

“Pym particles.”

“The diet version.” You pick up one of them carefully. “A ripoff, but effective. Just gotta attach it to the thing I want to shrink and give it a few minutes.”

“You’re going to steal the Statue of Liberty,” he says, frankly a little taken aback that you were serious.

“Would you relax? I’ll put it back.”

“That’s not the point,” he damn near exclaims. “You can’t take away the Statue of Liberty just because you feel like it.”

“I literally can.” You point to the chips in your hand. “That’s the point of this, keep up.”

He feels exasperated. He didn’t sign up for this when he became an Avenger.

“Give me the box.” He makes a grab for it but you yank it away from his reach.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I don’t have time for this.” His reruns would begin in an hour.

“That’s my problem, because...” you trail off. 

He rolls his eyes, makes a grab at the box again. His tactic is different this time. He stealthily pins one of your arms down so that you’re basically incapacitated.

“Hey! Stop that.” You fumble against his reach, shoving him with your elbow.

“Just give me the thing and we can all go home for the day,” he huffs, unfazed by your squirming.

“No! Over my dead bod-” 

He doesn’t immediately notice what goes wrong in the scuffle. 

Until you look at the ground near your feet. A disk lay there, undisturbed.

“Is that-” All of a sudden, either he’s getting taller or the ceiling of the boat is getting lower.

“Oops,” you say, not remorseful in the slightest. 

“Are we going to-”

“I’d give it five minutes max.” 

Great. He was stuck on a boat that was beginning to shrink. The other passengers were either oblivious or ignorant to seats that were starting to become too small for them, but Bucky’s heightened senses and extreme reflexes made it hard to skip.

He nudges the piece of tech with his foot. Maybe he can kick it off the boat.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” you warn solemnly. He wants to disagree but doesn’t know enough about the device to dispute you. 

“Fix this,” he hisses, panic slightly rising. His fingers find their way to his phone to send out an emergency text requesting backup and mass evacuation. 

“I think it’s a rather lovely day for a swim, don’t you?” You stare dreamily at the waves that were inching closer up the boat. 

Or you were inching closer to the water. Technicalities were frivolous. 

“There are other people on this boat.”

“River’s big enough for all of us, I reckon.”

“Fix it.” 

“Or what?” There’s a wicked gleam in your eye. “We both know I have the upper hand here.”

“Or I call the entirety of the Avengers here and haul your ass to prison.”

“Will they bring snacks?”

You’re insufferable. You know it. But you also are the fastest way to get out of this situation and right now, he didn’t want to be responsible for a shipwreck simulation. 

“Fine. Tell me what you want.”

“I like soy chips.”

“Soy chi-” He nearly throws his hands up in frustration. “You know what I’m talking about.” 

“I want one historical artifact so I can impress the kids. They think I’m the cool teacher and I want to keep that reputation alive.”

“What makes you think I can arrange for that?”

“You’ve been alive since goddamn dinosaurs roamed this earth, I’m sure you have some connections.” You pause to assess his face. “You know, you don’t look a day over 29. Dermatologists must hate yo-”

“I’ll get you an artifact, now fix the fuckin’ boat.”

“You promise?” You grin brightly. 

He stares at you. You are unyielding. 

The boat’s uncomfortably small and people are beginning to take notice. Worried murmurs fill the air behind him.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” You shrug simply.

You kneel over, picking up the chip from the ground. You do nothing else for two minutes, instead turning away from him to look at the Statue of Liberty that was coming closer.

It takes him a while to realise that half his body isn’t hanging off his chair anymore. The ceiling is moving further and further away from the top of his head. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He wants to strangle you. 

Why did he listen to you when all of this would have been over the minute he kicked it off the ship. 

“You can drop it off at my lair on Monday and pick it up on Friday.” You gather your belongings, leaving him steaming behind you. “Nice talkin’ to ya, Sergeant.” 

You step over him, flashing him a quick smile before walking off the boat with the rest of the tourists as if nothing had just taken place. When he looks down, the stupid ring box is on his lap.

He sits there, unmoving, eyes fixed on the container.

The ferry conductor asks if he’s going to get off the boat. 

He simply shakes his head.

Next part

[cornfarm]

waves against the rocks

saiki kusuo x reader

word count: 2.0k

synopsis: you show saiki your powers. he’s unbearibly jealous, yet for the first time, he feels seen and understood by another person.

cws: mention of the reader having a bad family

genre: melancholic fluff

reader is gender neutral!

===================================================

notes:

greetings... i promise i’m working on cease and desist part 2 but i keep starting one shots;; I ALSO DECIDED TO CHANGE MY TEXT FORMAT... i yoinked all the capital letters away... it feels a bit more liberating

whenever i make my crazy op self insert oc, i always think about how i can make them a foil/double to the characters i like. for example my gintama s/i is also a traumatized war veteran. i thought like... wouldn’t it be fun to write the reader character as a direct foil AND double to saiki? they have everything he doesn’t, but he has a lot that they dont and it’s like,., mutual jealousy.

i also wanted to write saiki properly empathizing with someone. aiura and toritsuka are so fun because they both have different moral compasses with their powers and how they’d like to use them. however despite the fact theyre all psychics, saiki can’t really empathize with either of them.

i wanted to have saiki be excited about something, and feel truly seen. empathy is a very powerful thing.

i hope the “ability” i chose isn’t too cringe;;;

i can’t help but feel like i write saiki ooc so feedback would be super appreciated!

===================================================

perception. the way people are seen by others, the mental images and sour thoughts rooted in nothing but misconception. the falsafied persona of greatness, beauty, and kindness. perception.

you kept saiki afterschool. tugging at his sleeve, you quietly asked “i need to show you something, stay here for a few extra minutes?”. he refused you at first, but you stayed firm, “i need you to stay.” fierce. he decided to stay.

but you stood before saiki, right? were you there? he suddenly felt a bit weary, head pounding at the thought of you. your name, voice, scent, failing to find matches in his library of records. when he thought of you, his brain flickered through the faces and names of everyone else he knew.

you were a gap, a void, a sudden unconjurable memory. it was horrifying. but he quickly accepted it. the body circling behind of him was none of his concern, because there was nobody there. he supposes he should go home now. why was he standing alone in the classroom anyways?

firm hands land on his shoulders, warm, present. he remembers why he’s here.

“it’s not that i’m invisible, it’s just that your brain can’t recognize me, and refuses to acknolwedge me as a thing that exists.”

like a wave crashing against a rocky shore, the void is filled. your voice, your scent, your name, all slotted back into place in his mental library. he recognizes the hands on your shoulders as yours. 

a hand snakes around and pushes up his glasses, covering his eyes.

“it’s not about visibility, it’s perception. you are unable to percieve me as a living thing, or of anything of importance. that’s why you can’t read my thoughts, and that’s why you’re so quick to give up trying to recall me.”

he’s practically trembling- you have one power. it was simple, but it managed to find a loophole around practically all of his.

“that’s terrifying.”

“right?”

you take your hands away and step in front of him. he adjusts his glasses properly.

“were you born with it?”

you nod, “it caused me trouble when i was a kid. i almost got left at an airport,” you chuckle.

“does anyone else know?”

“i’ve tried to tell my parents but they don’t believe me. they called me a liar and delusional, so i decided to stop trying with them. nobody else knows, i’ve never told any of my past friends either. when i found out about your powers, i thought maybe someone would finally understand. that’s the only reason i wanted to tell you.”

your lip quivers, “you believe me, right?”

truth be told, saiki’s stunned. he wasn’t expecting someone like you to have such an abrasive ability. despite how reclusive and fittingly unnoticeable it is, it was certainly powerful.

he’s jealous. you were able to freely aquire something he wanted- privacy, but he does believe you, afterall he just watched you waltz around him, outside of his keen field of view. 

“yeah, i do.”

you smile, bright and wide- you’re nearly trembling. was being believed that big of a deal to you?

you take a step forward and embrace him, wrapping your arms around his torso as your head presses against his chest. he goes a bit stiff, and glances at the door. “hey, someone might walk in-”

“it’s fine.” you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and oh. your eyes are glimmering, shining greater than he’s ever seen them, “they won’t.”

burying your face back into him, he tenataively wraps his arms around your back. you continue, voice muffled, “’m sorry, you’re the first person who’s accepted me. i’m happy.”

the emotional explanation for your actions ease him a bit, “it’s fine.” he states back.

you finally pull away, and for a brief moment as you lose connection, you flicker out of his view, but you come back in again, placing your hand on his.

“actually, i can touch you while using my power without you being affected by them, but i’m manually using it on you right now.”

“if you touch someone while making sure they still can’t see you, what does that make them experience?” his voice is clear, a bit fierce in tone. you always had trouble reading saiki, but you could tell that this was interest. perhaps he was threatened, but he was certainly intrigued.

“they might whirl around and look who’s touching them and account it to a person around them, but if not, they might think they’re having sensory hallucinations. i can also talk to people, but because my voice doesn’t have any weight to it, it’s almost like a hypnotic suggestion.”

“so you can brainwash people?”

“not necessarily,” you let go of his hand, you must have released your power, your eyes are dark, “if i suggest something to someone and it’s something mild, they’re more likely to do it because it already falls into their line of thinking. if i suggest something bold, they might do it thinking it’s an impulsive thought.”

“most people won’t do extreme things, they’ll read those as intrusive thoughts. but sometimes people think my voice is the voice of god, or a passed on relative, and will do intense things regardless of their judgement. others have poor impulse control, and some are just batshit crazy.”

you sheepishly scratch your head, “but i don’t really like having that much control over people. i don’t want to use my powers to hurt anyone.”

“do you want to use them to help people?”

you pause. it seems you’ve thought about this quite a bit.

“well my powers can’t help people. they give me the ability to help people, but they can’t help people directly. i think it’s a matter of it i’m strong enough to help people.”

“are you?”

“would you hate me if i said no? of course i lend a hand to my friends when they need it, but i don’t think i’m strong enough to really make a difference. i want to live peacefully.”

you look down at your hands, “i wish i wasn’t born with it.”

saiki felt unnervingly softhearted. he struggled empathizing with his peers, but his heart pounded in solemn familiarity. “i don’t hate you for that, i’m the same. having the powers i do means i have the responsibility of keeping the world in peace. people would be jealous of me for the self-fulfilling purposes i could use my powers for, but i don’t want to use my powers to hurt people. i don’t want to help anyone either. i just want to be left alone.”

guilt. guilt was a disease, just like jealousy is. it eats at you from the inside, and creeps up at times least expected. it left both of you hollow and empty.

“i wish i didn’t have powers,” he continues, “i don’t think i’ve ever properly experienced life in the way i’m supposed to, like everyone else has. i’m envious of you, you’ve had a bit more normalcy than me.”

“i suppose we’re equally unhappy, then,” you smile at him. he had been staring out the window, but he turns to looks at you. you’re leaning on the door of the classroom, tilting your head, you ask him a silent “walk home with me?”. 

“i mean,” you begin, “i’ve missed out on a lot. i’ve always had trouble making friends- my powers made it difficult for people to remain interested in me. i’ve gotten pretty good at controlling them, pk academy has been really good to me, but it doesn’t heal the damage it’s caused me.”

your teeth gnaw at your lower lip, “your family is so supportive of you, they love you so much, it makes me angry. i wish i could say the same about mine.”

it wasn’t too empty in the school, but your footsteps were loud and clear, both you and saiki walking in sync. saiki didn’t really know what to say, so he stayed silent. 

sighing, you continue, “i don’t want to be alone, but it’s too easy to be reclusive when that’s where you’ve always been. if you live a life of isolation, making friends is scary and draining,” a grim smile forms on your face, as if you’re trying to comfort yourself.

but saiki does have to admit that the two of you have much more in common than he initially thought. he quietly thinks to himself, perhaps he could use your abilities.

“y/n,” he begins, eyes meeting yours, “will you do me a favor?”

“yeah, what is it?”

he doesn’t like being indebted to people, but he wants to test your limits. you don’t give him the chance to ask, “you want me to use my powers while we walk out together, don’t you.”

his mouth falls a bit open, lips parting, “how did you know?”.

you laugh, “you’re not the only one who can read minds,” and reach out to wrap a hand around his forearm. he raises a brow at you, seemingly amused by your comment. he expected you to take his hand again, but your firm grip on his arm was admitedly unexpected.

he felt his heart skip a beat.

“well? are you doing it?”

“yup, you won’t feel any different though.”

walking down the steps together, people passed the two of you, strangers, familiar faces, teachers. nobody noticed.

the two of you passed toritsuka at the steps, but he paid no mind. “you know,” saiki started, “when i use my invisibility power, that guy can still see me.” 

“can he?” you murmur, your voice a bit low. 

“if it’s easier, you can just think what you’d like to say to me, we can talk that way.”

you squint your eyes in concentration, “like this?” you think to yourself. 

“yeah.”

you smile. you continue to hold onto his arm as he changes his shoes. 

“that must be frustrating, that he can still see you.”

he nods. he supposes if toritsuka can’t see you, then aiura probably can’t track you- and him, down either. 

“hold onto my arm while i change mine.”

without breaking contact, he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist. you hastily change your shoes, and slide your hand a bit up, taking his in yours.

“is it neccesary to hold hands?” he asks. his expression was nearly deadpanned, but the slight crease in his brows communicated just enough. he felt sheepish, a bit lost.

“no, but it’s nice.” 

teruhashi stands idly at the exit, waiting, doing her best to gently shake off the boys that surrounded her.

“she’s looking for me.”

“is she? do you want to talk to her?”

“no.”

you pause. 

“is she the reason you asked me to do this for you?”

he nods.

you turn and head towards the gate, but not before waving a hand in front of her face. you take a deep breath, before exclaiming a loud “teruhashi!”. she whirls around, trying to find the source of the voice, looking rather bewildered.

letting out a hearty laugh, you grin up at him. a slight huff of air escapes his upturned lips.

the two of you slip past the front gate.

“but you owe me something in return, i don’t give out my labor for free!”

he sighs, “what would you like?”

“wait, really? i was joking, you don’t have to do anything for me!” you double down on your demands.

“you say that, but i know you’re secretly hoping i’ll treat you.”

“shit, i forgot you can read my mind. that’s so invasive.” you pout, “not fair!”

“it’s fine, i don’t like being indebted to people, and you did do me a favor like i asked, so i’ll take you somewhere.”

you look a bit nervous, “really? you’re sure?”

“just accept the offer before i revoke it.”

you twirl in a circle, letting go of his hand and hopping a few steps ahead of him. “you’re buying me a nice coffee then!” 

he lunges out to take it again.

“sure.”

and once more in sync, both of your hearts skip a beat.

[professorspork]

If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write

[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]

It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.

You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?

It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.

Anyway.

Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.

How hard could it be?

The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.

She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.

Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.

She hates that.

-

Fighting with Nora is easy.

(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)

It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.

But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.

It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.

Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:

“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”

It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.

Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.

Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”

“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”

Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.

“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”

The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.

Pathetic.

Nora just nods, looking glum.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”

She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.

“Hey, what—?”

“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.

They make the rest of the walk back in silence.

-

Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.

It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.

A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.

But she does.

Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.

She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.

“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.

Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?

Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”

Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.

And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.

“What, so you’re spying on me now?”

Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”

And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—

Nora thinks they’re friends?

“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.

Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.

(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?

Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)

Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.

Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”

Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.

“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”

Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—

She closes that door.

“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.

“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.

And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…

… it’s been a while, is all.

“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.

Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”

“No, hey—”

“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”

Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.

“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”

“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”

“Come on. You know.”

“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”

Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—

She chooses to start a different way.

“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”

Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.

“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”

“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”

“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”

“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”

“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.

Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.

“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”

They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.

“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.

Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:

“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”

Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”

Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”

Touché.

“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.

Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”

“That an order?”

“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”

And—yeah. Maybe they do. 

[felassan]

Some DA trivia and dev commentary from Twitter

There’s a lot of different tweets, so I’m just pasting and linking to the source rather than screencapping them all or making several different posts or something. Post under cut for length.

User: Was dragon age 2 your favourite in the franchise?

David Gaider: DA2 was the project where my writing team was firing on all cylinders, and they wrote like the wind- because they had to! Second draft? Pfft. Plot reviews? Pfft. I was so proud of what we all accomplished in such a brief time. I didn't think it was possible. [source] DA2 is, however, also where the goal posts kept moving. Things kept getting cut, even while we worked. I had to write that dialogue where Orsino turned even if you sided with him, because his boss battle had been cut and there was no time to fix the plot. A real WTF moment. >:( [source]

Mike Rousseau: I remember bugging that! And then being told it wasn't a bug, and being so confused. Doing QA for DA2 was an experience. Trial by fire. [source]

DG: So I think it's safe to say DA2 is my favorite entry in the DA franchise and also the sort of thing I never want to live through ever again. Mixed feelings galore. [source]

User: (I personally blame whoever it was for ruining most romance arcs in other games for me; they don't live up to Fenris's romance storyline)

DG: I wrote Fenris, so uh - me, I guess? Or maybe his cinematic designer, who put in the puppy dog eyes. [source]

User: If DA2 had just been an expansion, do you think it would have been better received? There was a lot of great stuff in there, and I think my initial dislike of it was because of the zone reuse. If it hadn't needed to be a full game, would that issue not have arisen?

DG: Hard to say. It was either going to be an over-scoped expansion or an under-scoped sequel. If it had stayed an expansion, it might never have received the resources/push it DID get. [source]

User: I'd love to visit the universe where you had an extra year or so to work on it. You did a very good job as it stands, but it definitely had rough edges. Not just the writing team either. The whole game had hit and miss moments, that just a little more dev time could have fixed.

DG: On one hand, DA2 existed to fill a hole in the release schedule. More time was never in the cards. DA2 was originally planned as an expansion! On the other, if we had more time, would we have started doing that thing where we second guess/iterate ourselves into mediocrity? [shrug emoji] [source] 

Jennifer Hepler: This is what I love about DA2. Personally, I greatly prefer something that's rough and raw and sincere to something that's had all the soul polished out of it. Extra time would have helped for art and levels, but it would have lost something too. [source]

DG: Right? I think we could have used some time for peer reviews (and fewer cuts), but I think the rawness of the writing lent a certain spark that we usually polished out. [source]

JH: Definitely. I think the structure (more character-driven) and the tightness of the timeframe let each individual writer's voice really come through. Polish can be very homogenizing. [source]

DG: I should add I'm not, by any means, against iteration. Some iteration is good and necessary. The problem that BioWare often had is that we never knew when to stop. Like a goldfish, we would fill the space given to us by constantly re-iterating on things that were "good enough". [source]

Patrick Weekes: I appreciate your incredibly diplomatic use of the past tense on "had". :D [source]

User: DA2 was my gateway into the series and I’m so happy it is. I love the game the way that it is. It’s one of my favorites of all time. But I am also aware of everything that was said here. If it were remastered, do you think it would change?

DG: I'd be surprised if it was ever remastered. If it was, do you really think they'd change things? Do remasters do that? No idea. [source]

User: Both sides got undercut as I recall. Didn't that whole sequence also end with the mage leader embracing blood magic? It was very much "a plague on both your houses" moment, at least for me.

DG: Yep. Orsino was supposed to have his own version of Meredith's end battle, which only happened if you sided with the templars. That got cut, but the team still wanted to use the model we'd made for him. So... that happened. [source]

DG: I would personally say that DA2 is a fantastic game hidden under a mountain of compromises, cut corners, and tight deadlines. If you can see past all that, you'll see a fantastic game. I don't doubt, however, that it's very difficult for most to do that. [source]

PW: I love DAI with all my selfish "I worked on this" heart, but DA2's follower arcs and relationships are probably my favorite in the series. [source]

User: As I've expressed many times, I love the game, especially it's writing and characters but, for me, the most impressive aspect of it, in consideration of it's lack of time for drafts and revisions, is the 2nd act with Arishok.  What amazingly complex character and fantastic duel

User: Just played it again and I have to agree. Though he is bound by the harsher tenants of the Qun, he makes valid points about free marcher society. Though it is obvious that he and Hawke will come to blows eventually, the tension builds gradually and understandably

DG: Luke did such a fantastic job with the Arishok I found myself sometimes wishing the Qunari plot had just been THE plot. [source]

User: What do you think would have changed, story wise, if you had more time for DA2?

DG: I would have taken out that thing where Meredith gets the idol. It was forced on me because she needed to be "super-powered" with red lyrium for her final battle. Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that. [source]

User: I deeply lament that there wasn't/couldn't be some sort of DA2 equivalent of Throne of Bhaal's Ascension mod.

DG: I'd have done it, if DA2 had allowed for anything but the most rudimentary of modding. ;) [source]

User: I mean, and I think I understand where you were trying, but how much legitimacy did the Templars and her as top Templar have after they're keeping the mages locked up against their will in the old slave quarters? Feel free to not reply.

DG: I think it's the kind of discussion which requires nuance, and which discussions on the Internet are not prone to. [source]

User: Was a compromise that the quest lines don’t branch? It felt like it was supposed to be that way but then you end up in the same place later regardless of what you pick. Like I hoodwinked the templars so good to help the apostates escape but in Act II they were caught anyway.

DG: I remember us having a lot more branching in the initial planning yes. Most of this got trimmed out in the first or second wave of cuts, in an effort to not cut the plots altogether. [source]

DG: "If you could Zack Snyder DA2, what would you change?" Wow. I'm willing to bet Mark or Mike (or anyone else on the team) would give very different answers than me, but it's enough to give a sober man pause, because that was THE Project of Multiple Regrets. [source] I mean, it's the most hypothetical of hypotheticals. It's never gonna happen. I wouldn't be surprised if EA considered DA2 its embarrassing red-headed stepchild. We'd also need to ignore that in many ways DA2 was as good as it was bad BECAUSE of how it was made. But that aside? [source] First, either restore the progressive changes to Kirkwall we'd planned over the passing of in-game years or reduce the time between acts to months instead of years... which, in hindsight, probably should have been done as soon as the progressive stuff was cut. [source] I'm sure you're like "get rid of repeated levels!" ...but I don't care about that. All I wanted was for Kirkwall to feel like a bigger city. Way more crowded. More alive! Fewer blood mages. [source] I'd want to restore the plot where a mage Hawke came THIS close to becoming an abomination. An entire story spent trapped in one's own head while trapped on the edge of possession. Why? Because Hawke is the only mage who apparently never struggles with this. It was a hard cut. [source]

User: I would LOVE to hear more details about this! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a short story?

DG: I don't even remember the details of the story, sorry. There was a fight, and you caught the bad guy and then realized none of it was real and woke up idk [source]

DG: I'd want to restore all those alternate lines we cut, meaning people forget they'd met you. Or that they knew you were a mage. Or, oh god, that maybe they'd romanced you in DAO. So much carnage. [source] I'd want to restore the Act 3 plots we cut only because they were worked on too late, but which would have made the buildup to the mage/templar clash less sudden. Though I don't remember what they were, now. Some never got beyond being index cards posted on the wall. [grimace emoji] [source] As I mentioned elsewhere, I'd want to restore Orsino's end battle so he wouldn't need to turn on you even if you sided with him. And I'd want an end fight with the templars that didn't require Meredith to have red lyrium and go full Tetsuo. [source] Heck, maybe an end decision where you sided with neither the mages nor the templars. Because it certainly ended up feeling like you could brand both sides as batshit pretty legitimately, no? That was never planned, tho. No idea how to make that feel like an actual path atm. [source] Maybe an option to go "umm, Anders... what are you DOING?" 👀 [source] And, of course, a Varric romance, because Mary took that "slimy car salesman" character we'd planned and did the impossible with him. I can feel Mary glaring at me for even suggesting this, tho. [source] Lastly, the original expanded opening to the game which allowed you to spend time with Bethany and Carver BEFORE the darkspawn attacked. And, um, that's about it off the top of my head. Zack Snyder, WHAT PANDORA'S BOX HAVE YOU OPENED. [source] Shit, I remembered two more things: 1) Restore the "Varric exaggerates the heck out of the story" at the beginning of every Act, until Cassandra calls him on it. Yes, that was a thing. 2) Make DA: Exodus. Yes, I am still bitter. [source] God damn it, I meant "Make DA: Exalted March". The DA2 expansion, NOT Exodus since that was DA2's original name and makes no sense. Because the expansion ended with Varric dying, and that will always be on my "things left undone" list. [source]

User: Whaaaat?

DG: Well, you know that scene in Wrath of Khan where Spock goes into the dilithium chamber because he's a Vulcan? Well, imagine that but with Varric and red lyrium and because he's a dwarf. ;) [source]

John Epler: I distinctly remember referencing the bit from MGS4 where you crawl through the microwave corridor in the split screen, while cinematic battle rages on the other half. [source]

DG: It would have been glorious, John. Glorious. [source]

JE: I don't think I've ever been so certain what a shot should look like as I did Hawke coming in and finding Varric in the broken throne, just like when he was telling Cassandra his story. [source]

DG: It would have come full circle! Auggghh, it still kills me. [source]

User: Lord, you folks are a little too good at this.

JE: The true secret behind videogame narrative is knowing how to make yourself seem a lot more clever than you actually are. [source] 'Oh, we TOTALLY planned that.' [source]

User: Ok, this thread [the DA2 regrets thread, which is the big chunks above] but Inquisition.

DG: My regrets about Inquisition are, more or less, the normal kind. Nothing so dramatic, I'm afraid. [source]

User: You can keep your Varric romance, I want a Flemeth romance goddamnit!

DG: I would allow for one flirt option, and then a recording of Kate Mulgrew laughing for three minutes straight. [source]

User: I had a hypothesis about the repetitive caves in DA2. They're repetitive because it's Varric telling the story and he didn't consider them important.  They're like sets in a play.  (Okay, I really suspect it was a time/money/resources thing but I like my fake explanation better.)

DG: Hang a lampshade on it, maybe? Cassandra: "But that's the exact cave you were in last time?" Varric: "Whatever. They all look the same, I'm not THAT kind of dwarf. Can we move on?" [source]

User: that makes sense, hypothetically to make Varric romanceable and keep his arc—that had to happen for the main plot—I imagine you would have to make double the content (or more)? which would've been a tall order given the time/budget constraints the game was under

DG: Right. When it comes to "romance arc" vs. "follower story arc", we generally only had time to do one or the other. Never both. Romancing Varric would have meant not getting the story of his that you did. [source]

Mary Kirby: The one exaggeration I really, REALLY wanted, that we never got to do was Varric narrating his own death scene with Hawke weeping over him, then cutting to Cassandra's pissed off glaring at him. [source]

DG: Haha! The one I wanted was Varric's plot where he takes on the baddies single-handedly, sliding across the floor like Jet Lee, action movie-style, until finally Cassandra gets irritated and he has to admit Hawke & the rest of the party showed up to help. [source]

MK: We did that one! (He didn't do any Jet Lee moves, though.) Jepler gave him letterboxing to get The Good, the Bad, & the Ugly showdown vibes while he shot a ton of mooks single-handed. [source]

DG: Wow. Shows how much I remember. [source]

JE: I found it! I remember seeing this sequence as my treat for doing a bunch of much more challenging work. It was fun to see how far I could push our limited library of animations. [link] [source]

DG: Heh awesome. I could have sworn it was cut, honestly. I think I was even in that meeting. [source]

User: no disrespect but that’s surprising and rich of Mary “Hard in Hightown” Kirby to think DA2 shouldn’t have had a Varric romance when she wrote an entire book of Varric’s self-insert character pining over his Hawke insert character… HIH is the reason we had VHawke Summer 2018

DG: I can't *really* speak for Mary, or how she feels about it now compared to back then. I only know how she felt about it back then, and I'm not sure it was as much the concept of the romance but that Varric's entire story would be bent to "romance arc" ...a very different thing. [source]

JH: I remember pushing to have the first DLC start with Hawke having an option to ask Varric, "Did you tell Cassandra about us?" and if you picked it, Varric would answer, "Of course not, baby. I told her you were sleeping with X..." and then proceed as if you had had a full romance. [source]

DG: I still wonder how that would have gone over. x) [source]

JE: Okay, one more DA2 thing. Putting together the cinematics for this scene was a blast. [link] [source]

MK: These lines are my greatest legacy. I want "Make sure the world knows I died... at Chateau Haine!" inscribed on my tombstone. [source]

JE: I was so glad no one said 'no' to the crane shot. [source]

MK: It needs that crane shot. It's the perfect icing on that cake made from solid cheese. [source]

DG: The designers were all "we need more combat" and I think we were all "I think you underestimate just HOW interesting we can make this dinner party". [source]

JE: And finally. I think @SherylChee wrote the one-liner. I think we had a collection of like, 20. [link] [source]

Sheryl Chee: Yeah! Something like that! I remember submitted a whole bunch and Frank said you only needed one. Wish I'd kept the other fifteen. [source]

JE: A random chooser where, each time through the scene, you get a different one-liner. [source]

JE: DA2 is the project I'm the proudest of. I also absolutely get that it didn't land for a lot of people. But I don't think it's inaccurate to say that, in a lot of ways, DA2 defined my career. [source]  Everyone spent a year working at their maximum ability. I was a fresh cinematic designer and was given all of Varric's content, as well as the Act 1 Finale mission. It was a lot for someone who had been doing the Cinematics thing for literally 6 months. [source]  There's some stuff in there I can't look at without wincing. And there's some stuff I'm genuinely proud of. Not to mention, it was my introduction to most of the writing team. Several of whom I'm still working with today! Albeit in a different capacity [source] Also, weirdly, one of my most enduring memories of Dragon Age 2 is how much Bad Company 2 we'd play at lunch. It was a LOT. [source] Every game I've worked on has a game I played attached to it. ME2 is Borderlands. DA2 is Bad Company 2. DAI is DayZ. I, hmm. There's a progression there. I don't know how I feel about it. [source]

User: Is DA4 going to be tarkov then?

JE: I've kind of churned out of Tarkov for now. Probably Hunt Showdown, at least right now. [source]

User: I think people also don't take nuance into consideration -- like I FULLY acknowledge the flaws in my favorite games and will openly criticize them, but that doesn't mean they're not my favorite games anymore??? You can like and thing and still be critical of it.

JE: A lot of my favourite shit is deeply flawed! I acknowledge it and I think it's interesting to dissect the flaws. [source]

User: I still wish Justice was an actual character in DA2 rather than a plot point.

DG: There was a moment during DAI where we *almost* put in you running into Justice with the Grey Wardens, and he's all "Kirkwall? I never went to Kirkwall" [source]

User: Does that imply that Justice was shoehorned in to DA2?

DG: Nah, it was an in-joke where we thought it'd be fun to suggest that "Justice" was simply some demon that tricked Anders in DA2. Wooo those tricky demons! We didn't do it, though. [source]

User: [about templars]  except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves [source]

User: Can you shed some light for us on how DA was able to do multiple same-sex romance options for different genders but the Mass Effect team treated them like the plague? What process existed for your team that just wasn't their for the other tentpole franchise?

DG: Different people making the decisions, almost different cultures. I don't know what it's like now, but for many years the Mass Effect team and the Dragon Age team were almost like two different studios working within the same building. [source]

User: It truly boggles the mind. Kudos for doing demonstrably better on consistent queer representation than the ME teams. Y'all never needed us to make petitions to try to get the studio's attention and ask them to do better by us. That's the fight we're once again embroiled in now.

DG: Honestly, I don't feel like tut-tutting the Mass Effect team. They did their part, and if they were a bit later to the show than the DA team they certainly did more than almost every other game out there -- and willingly. [source]

Updates begin here

User: So what was the reason for naming Dragon age 2 "Dragon age II" and not using a subtitle?

DG: As I recall, that was purely a publisher decision. I think they wanted to avoid the impression it was an expansion. [source]

User: Is there no chance of ever remaking DA2 under better circumstances? -Somehow remove the repetitiveness of gameplay by making changes and updating the tech and adding much more to the storyline. It could almost be a new very exciting game.

DG: I'd say there's zero chance of that. Let's keep our hopes up for the next DA title instead. [source]

User: I am a little confused here, help me out here please! How exactly was the cut boss battle with Orsino supposed to work out? How it would've kept him from turning against the player?

DG: It means that, if you sided with the templars, the entire boss bottle at the end would have been against Orsino and the mages. No fight against Meredith. The end decision would have been more divergent. [source]

User: I do remember that one of the reasons going around for that, was that resources were going to the transition to Frostbite. I'm still not fully sold on that having been a good choice. I felt that more time should have been given for that transition considering it was made for FPSs

DG: We didn't transition to Frostbite until DAI. Given our time frame for DA2, I don't think we *could* have transitioned to a new engine. [source]

User: Since your talking about the what could have been for DA2. Could you say what your script was for Anthem? Cause I remember reading that you wrote the plot on that game.

DG: I created a setting for Anthem and scripted out a plot - but, as I understand it, almost none of that ended up being used. So it's a bit pointless to talk about what I'd planned, as that'd be for some completely different type of game. [source]

User: [in reference to the exchange above where DG said “Being "crazy", however, robbed her side of the mage/templar argument of any legitimacy. I hated hated hated that.” re: Meredith] except, I don't think it had very much legitimacy to begin with. keep in mind, we interact with other characters with the same argument. The one that comes to mind is Cullen, a sane templar in power. The templar's side of the argument is inherently flawed.

DG: I don't doubt that many people agree with you, and yet people can and do argue on behalf of the templars as well. My place isn't to pick a side, but to provide evidence that players can interpret for themselves. [source]

If I missed a tweet, got the wrong source link or included a tweet twice, feel free to let me know and I’ll correct.

Edit / Update: Post update 22nd April

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter Two

It’s almost midnight by the time Garcia is officially gator food, but you’re too wired for sleep. You head out, driving the hour and change to Miami, with a stop on the way to clean yourself up a bit in a gas station bathroom. You check in to the swanky South Beach hotel you’ve decided to treat yourself to, because you’ve earned it. The world is a better place without that man in it, the impressionable young girls of Miami are a bit safer tonight, and that’s enough for you. For the moment, it’s enough.

Your next target is a man you’ve been searching for for a long time, and he’s your own personal project, but tonight you aren’t going to think about him. Tonight you’re going to allow yourself a moment to breathe, to celebrate your victories—a party of one, as usual, but satisfying all the same. You don’t have that much time left before last call at the clubs so you get yourself together quickly and hit the spot closest to your hotel. Even at this time of night, there’s a line to get in, but one look at you and the bouncer is opening that velvet rope and beckoning you inside.

The place reeks of sweat and unchecked hormones as you make your way to the bar, the booming bass drowning out any and all thoughts you might have, which is exactly the way you want it tonight. You order a double vodka rocks and you wait to see what kind of man will approach you this evening: angel or devil. Of course, none of them are really angels, not in the club at this time of night, but some are far worse than others.

You have no problem with decent men. There’s nothing wrong with trying to get laid. It’s normal, it’s natural—you know that now. You’ve even learned to enjoy consensual sex with strangers. At first it was difficult for you—your body having belonged to others for your entire life. But it wasn’t long before you started to enjoy the power of choice, of having control over what your body did and who with.

A man approaches you—brown hair, blue eyes, muscular—and you hate that your first thought is of him but you can’t help it. The Winter Soldier had always been the stuff of nightmares—a ghost story to some, but the Widows knew better. He was terrifying, yes, but the few people who had seen the man’s face and lived to tell about it had always remarked on how handsome he was, even with that cold, dead-eyed stare. You’d seen pictures of him after he came out from under all that brainwashing, and they had proven the reports correct, but you’d never seen him in person until tonight. You couldn’t stand the sight of him in some ways, but in others…

You turn to the attractive stranger and smile, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he yells over the music. You raise your nearly full cocktail in his direction and he smiles awkwardly. “That’s the best line I got,” he says, and he introduces himself with a name you don’t commit to memory.

You give him a fake name and he reaches his hand out to shake. He’s got a disarming personality, but that doesn’t mean you trust him. You know better than anyone that there’s no better tactic than to appear non-threatening. Still, he’s incredibly attractive and you’re in the mood for a party of two tonight.

You let him talk for a while—about his job, about his family—and you pepper in a few lies here and there. He hasn’t laid a hand on you or invaded your personal space in any way that isn’t necessary among the crush of people at the bar. When the bartender signals last call, you decide that he’ll do. You’re rarely wrong about people, and even if you are, you could snap his neck like a twig if necessary.

You allow him to walk you out, expecting him to make a move, but he doesn’t. He just stands there with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, rocking a bit awkwardly on his feet.

You smile and tilt your head. “Nightcap?” you ask, and he follows you like a puppy to your hotel room.

You don’t want another drink and neither does he, but he waits for your signal before he tries anything. You try not to make it all seem transactional, but it’s not like your heart is in it. You let him kiss you and touch you, albeit briefly, and you pretend to enjoy it even though that’s not what you want. What you want is to be on top of him, using his body for the pleasure of your own, and it’s not long before you’re doing exactly that. Your beautiful stranger certainly doesn’t mind, not even when you close your eyes and allow yourself to think about someone else inside you—what his face might look like all twisted up and blissed out, what sounds might spill from his pretty lips, what the cold metal might feel like against your hot sweaty skin.

You make yourself cum and then kick him out (kindly). You’re gone by sunrise. You’ve got places to be.

*****

Natasha sits cross-legged on her couch, a pint of ice cream in one hand and scrolling her tablet with the other. After Miami, you’ve been a ghost. None of her usual contacts have been able to give her anything useful. You’ve gone underground, and she knows she won’t find you if you really don’t want to be found. Whoever your next target is, it has to be somebody big if you’ve covered your tracks this well.

She doesn’t regret not taking you in, even though Bucky had complained the entire ride back about how leaving you there was a mistake. But, as she’d told him, you have to want to come in. Trying to force your hand is not only incredibly dangerous, it defeats the purpose. Natasha doesn’t want to retraumatize you; she wants to help you. There’s no point in trading a floating cage for a gilded one.

She doesn’t realize she’s finished the pint until the spoon hits the cardboard. When she goes to pull another one from the freezer, her phone rings.

“What’s up, Rogers?”

Steve’s voice holds a barely contained anger that Natasha knows well. “You need to come in.”

She should have known Bucky would rat her out, but it still pisses her off. “Steve, it’s getting late. Can we do this in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies. “Are you gonna steal another jet in the middle of the night?”

“Technically, I didn’t steal-”

“Natasha, please,” he says, and she can picture the set of his jaw on the other end of the line.

She sighs. “Alright, fine. I’m leaving now.”

When she gets to the tower, most of the usual suspects are gathered around the conference table. Steve looks pissed. Tony looks amused. Sam and Wanda look concerned. And while, to anyone else Bucky would be wearing no expression at all, Natasha can tell that he’s feeling a bit guilty—as he should, he gave her his word. He mouths “I’m sorry” when she sits down at the table and she raises an eyebrow at him that he knows to translate as a middle finger.

Steve tries to speak but Natasha cuts him off. “Save me the lecture, Rogers. I’m not going to apologize.”

Steve’s voice is stern but not unkind. “This needs to be a group decision, Natasha, and as of right now, you’re the only person who thinks this is a good idea.”

“That’s not actually true,” she says. “Wanda? Do you want to tell Steve what you told me?”

Wanda looks a little shocked to be called out but she answers, if a bit hesitantly. “It sounds like she needs help, Steve. Like she’s lost. I… I know what that feels like—when everyone thinks you’re a monster.”

Wanda and Nat’s eyes both turn to Bucky, looking for any recognition whatsoever that he, too, knows exactly where they’re coming from, but he’s completely stolid. Underneath his blood is boiling and he feels like he wants to crawl out of his skin, but the surface remains placid.

Tony pops a blueberry into his mouth and swivels in his chair to face Natasha. “So, let me see if I’m understanding this correctly, Romanoff. You want to bring in one of your former compatriots who has spent the last… what?... year or so on a globetrotting murder spree? Am I getting the general idea here, or am I missing something? I have to be missing something, because if I’m not missing something, this is categorically batshit.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Stark. But essentially, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

Tony laughs. “Wow. OK. Well, Rogers—you and I rarely agree on… well… anything, but I gotta say, I’m Team Cap with this one.”

Natasha crosses her arms and huffs her displeasure.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, looking around and addressing the room, “but don’t we usually catch mass murderers? Isn’t that kind of our thing?”

The longer the conversation goes on, the more uncomfortable Bucky gets. It wasn’t lost on him that Tony’s eyes lingered on him when he threw out the term “mass murderers,” and he’s learned that it’s better to just let Tony go off when he feels the need. Still, he needs to get out of the room. He needs to take a walk, get some air, push all thoughts of you and this whole mess out of his mind, because if he doesn’t, he thinks he might go crazy.

“Are we done here?” Bucky asks.

“No,” Steve replies. “Sam? Anything you want to say?”

Sam takes a minute to gather his thoughts. “Look, Nat, I understand where you’re coming from on this. I really do. And it would be different if she was willing to come in on her own. But it sounds to me like she isn’t interested. She wants to be doing exactly what she’s doing. You can’t rehabilitate that. You just can’t.”

Steve looks apologetically at Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s a no. I’m not necessarily saying we go after her-”

“I am,” Tony interjects. “I’m saying that. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Steve glares at Tony and it shuts him up. “Leave it alone, Tony.”

“You’re seriously telling me you want to leave this girl on the streets knowing what we know? Come on, Rogers.”

Everyone starts to raise their voice at once—everyone except Bucky, who is already sneaking out and halfway to the door—when Natasha shouts, “Enough!”

She takes a deep breath and blows it out, speaking softer now. “I’ll find her and I’ll bring her in, whether she wants to come or not. But it stays in this room—no cops, no agents, just the team. When I get her here, I’ll figure out what to do with her.”

“Fine,” Steve says, and the rest of the team assents. “Buck, you go with her.”

Every cell in Bucky’s body is screaming not to do it, but he never could say no to Steve. He grunts his agreement, refusing to even look at Natasha before storming out of the room and out into the humid mid-August evening. He walks all the way from Midtown to Brooklyn, but he still can’t shake the malaise that’s settled over him ever since Natasha first came to him with her plan.

Bucky knows that he should understand—and, in a way, he does—but he just can’t bring himself to feel anything for you except disgust. Natasha sees something in you that he just doesn’t see. All Bucky wanted to do when he finally got free of it all was prove to everyone that he was a good man—that he was not the things that he’d done. It took a lot of work and a lot of time, but he’s finally in a place where he’s separated himself from the Winter Soldier. That isn’t who he is; it never was.

Steve always knew that, and Natasha hadn’t taken much convincing. The others, though—some of them still don’t fully trust him, and if he thinks about it for too long, it cuts deep. So when Bucky thinks of you—free now, but still violent and bloodthirsty and absolutely unrepentant—it makes him sick. After all the work Bucky has done, how can Natasha look at you and him and think that you’re the same?

Not everyone comes out of their traumas unscathed. Sometimes people can’t come back from the things that have happened to them. That’s you. That’s who you are. You’re not good, you never will be, and as sad as it may make him, Bucky truly believes that you are beyond redemption. You don’t need to be saved; you need to be stopped.

Bucky gets a text as he unlocks the door to his Brooklyn Heights apartment. He’s been waiting for it, hoping for it, and now he has it. Natasha doesn’t know where you are yet, but he does. One of his contacts in Bucharest has a line on you, and he’s not going to let you get away this time. Much as it pains him, he doesn’t trust Natasha to keep her word to the team and take you in against your will. No, Bucky is going to handle this himself. You may be a Widow, but you’re no match for the White Wolf.

CHAPTER THREE >>>

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Okokok here this: april, reader and casey try to prank the boys. How does it go. With who does it fails/success, what was the prank, do they get caught? Do the boys get revenge, and if so, how?

Also, splinter sees it all unfolds, does he just gets himself a snack and watch, or does he tries to subtly join in without getting caught? (We all know hes got a playful side cmon)

Bonus: they try to prank vern too, maybe the boys join in to prank him? What do they do? Does he retaliate?

Okay so I admit I let my brain go nuts on this one, so it's a little long but I was cackling the entire time I was writing it.

TMNT Headcanons

Prank Wars

Leonardo

In your complete and utter defence, Leo had 100% started this

And also in your defence, you did tell him not to

Twice

But he tricked you into watching a horror movie and ended up dying your hair green

This meant war

You'd even wrapped up April and Casey into it

Their problems were your problems

Which meant that April was the one who convinced Splinter not to say anything to his sons

He was perfectly happy to oblige

Casey was just there to help set things up

And you liked the way his mind worked

The objective wasn't to go unnoticed, there would be no point in doing it and having no proof

You were doing this to prove that you could

Leo had emphasized that he couldn't be distracted

That you were to obvious and clumsy to prank him without him noticing

Challenge fucking accepted

And that's how you ended up at the kitchen table eating lunch with April and Casey when the boys were coming back from meditating with Splinter

April kept having to shove food in her mouth to hide her laughter

Casey just decided to wear sunglasses

And you kept overpowering the urge to smirk

"Hey guys, good to see you. Y/n have you seen my katanas?"

With the obstruction of water in your mouth you just nodded at him, pointing to the other room

He sauntered off, none the wiser to your victorious grin

When he came back in only a moment later his expression had done a complete 180

Leo made direct eye contact with you and you held that stare like a wolf cornered in its den

"does someone want to explain why my katanas are encased in blueberry jello?"

You raised your hand like a child in class

"hate to break it to you, but it's actually berry blue you uncultured bitch"

Raphael

Ohhhh you were so undeniably dead

A whole other level of six feet under

It wasn't a surprise that April and Casey had backed out on this one

It also wasn't a surprise that Splinter had offered to stand up for you if things went sideways

Donnie even gave you a sheet of paper with a list of hiding spots before hand

All of this went completely unnoticed by Raph, the target of your latest scheme.

And that was fine, you had only one objective here-

Make it out alive

But it was amazing what 1 person could do with some extra cash and internet access

So that's what led you to your current position.

Cross legged on the bench, watching the large red terrapin get ready for his first set, that in itself wasn't unusual, you always watched him lift just in case you needed to run and grab someone if something went wrong

Raph was none the wiser to your plan

At least that's what you thought

Your book was in your lap and you were calmly scanning your pages, somewhat comprehending the words but keeping a very close eye on the turtle across from you

"Hey y/n?"

You peeked over the edge of your book to meet his eyes

And your heart sank to your stomach

"Yeah Raph?"

He smirked at you, taking a lumbering step forward

"You ever seen that episode of the Office where Jim fills Dwight's phone with nickels so when he takes 'em out Dwight punches himself in the face?"

Shit shit shit shit shit shit-

"Uh... No, can't say that I have, why do you ask?"

That damn smile got even wider and all of your muscles tensed, you were ready to bolt

"I'm giving you a fifteen second headstart. Starting right now."

You flew to your feet and sprinted out of the weight room

"DONNIE WE GOTTA CODE RED!"

Your lungs were ready to burst by the time you made it to your decided hiding spot. Heavy footsteps went right underneath you and you held your breath, you wouldn't dare move.

You didn't come down until hours later when Splinter came and coaxed to you out of hiding

But deep down you knew you'd started something you couldn't finish.

Vern Fenwick

You didn't even have to convince the guys to partake in this

You didn't even get the chance to tell them what you were planning

They were already brainstorming

None of you let a word of it slip to April, she would've shut you down faster than you could blink

A complete buzz kill

But fake blood was relatively cheap and all of Vern's flooring was tile (meaning extremely easy to clean and bleach)

Donnie had really been the mastermind behind the execution, none of you had any idea how he'd rigged the apartment plumbing

But he'd assured you it would only affect Vern's suite and no one else's so you didn't concern yourself with it further

And after the fact you had to wonder what exactly the former cameraman was planning on the date he'd been in the middle of

All you knew was that you got a very frantic call from the falcon himself yelling about blood coming out of his tap and the sink wouldn't shut off and it was everywhere and what the fuck was happening?

You all knew that Splinter thought it was hilarious, he'd never been particularly fond of Vern

But he did make his sons assist in the clean up and bleaching of the victims apartment floor

You went too and offered moral support

Vern had hit on you one too many times, so there was no way you'd feel bad about this

Michaelangelo

As far as pranking went, you and Mikey were partners in crime

He always had great ideas and you always came up with the best ways to execute those ideas without getting caught

But when you separated those two chaos was guaranteed

You weren't entirely sure how you had been pitted against each other but you weren't entirely mad about it

You couldn't say the same for anyone else though, the others had been on edge all week.

Pranking Mikey was a challenge, he knew how you worked and vice versa

You'd been brainstorming with April for weeks now, maybe a new perspective would help

That's what the two of you told yourselves anyways

Much to your dismay, Mikey and Casey had been plotting against you as well, the traitor.

And perhaps even more unfortunate was the fact that both of your pranks somehow overlapped and backfired on the rest of the family

Because Mikey and Casey may have replaced the family tea set with a edible sugar replica that looked identical to the original

So that when you were asked to make tea for Splinter and Leo it would dissolve the second you poured the hot tea

But they didn't tell anyone else so Leo was left with an impromptu anxiety attack when he made his own tea before sitting down to meditate and it melted into sugary leaf water

And you and April had planned the 'cutting off your finger in the kitchen' with the knife, fake finger, and fake blood

Which in theory should've worked because Mikey was in the kitchen the most, that was his territory

However once you'd started your plan you couldn't stop it

so when you 'cut your finger off' and screamed for Mikey you didn't have time to yell "wait it's a prank!" before Donnie caught a glimpse of the scene and fainted

In your defence you didn't know the purple turtle could move that fast

And to Mikey's relief he was going to throw that cutting board out anyways

Splinter explicitly banned the two of you from pranking each other after that incident

Donatello

Per your own common sense you had come to the conclusion that pranking the families resident genius was a horribly stupid idea

So for once, you'd practiced some self control and refrained from any pranks involving Donnie

Now that's not to say that the turtle vowed from aiming any pranks towards you

He had morals but messing with you walked the line separating adorable from batshit crazy

And he was all for it

April advised against it severely and even Splinter seemed to think it wasn't the best idea, but that was a lesson his son had to learn on his own

On the flip side, the second Casey heard about Donnie's plan he was all for it

So when you came over for dinner they both had to hide their excited smiles as Casey passed you your spaghetti

He knew it was your favorite

Everyone else was oblivious, which looking back on it was a very bad thing

April had her suspicions that Donnie was pulling something this evening, but she couldn't put her finger on it

That wasn't until you swirled a mouthful of noodles around your fork and shoved it into your mouth, you were starving

Here lies your predicament-

You swallowed thickly and blinked like you were in pain, your hand went to your throat and you reached for your water, ending up chugging almost the entire bottle.

Your eyes met Donnie's in a serious type of concern

"Is there hot sauce in this?"

April choked on her breadstick and quickly covered her mouth

Casey hadn't picked up on it yet

"Awh yeah- how'd you figure it out so quickly?"

You erupted in a coughing fit that sent April rushing to your side before you could tumble to the floor

"You fucking assholes! Y/N has a capsaicin allergy! Casey go start the car we need to get them to the hospital!"

On the bright side you were fine after you were rushed to the ER

But you didn't speak to Donnie or Casey for two weeks following the accident

You eventually forgave them for it and they haven't targeted you since

Sorry if it got a little dark at the end, but I felt like it was more realistic. Also that has actually happened to me but it was a nut allergy (and that's how I found out I was allergic to cashews) But I feel like the ending was a good example of how pranking someone can go horribly wrong, you should always consider the possibilities before doing something that could cause harm to a person. (Unless they really really deserve it)

I really enjoyed writing this one and I hope you guys like it as much as I do! 😁🧡👍

-Mars 🌠

[dancingthesambaa]

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 17

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 17: Can You Feel The Love Tonight~

“Pass some of that Okra.”

“Here you go.”

“Why is this so spicy?!”

“Well it is the spicy plate, if you can’t handle the heat then you should have gotten the other plate.”

“No, just this one specifically is damn spicy!”

“Red made some of them.”

“It’s not my fault that your taste isn’t refined enough.”

“Come over here and say that!”

“No fighting at the table,” Macaque said as he watched Bohai try to stand up from his seat, while Red was smirking at him.

“Won’t be much of a fight,” the demon prince mocked.

“You little-” his mouth was then stuffed with green beans.

“Just eat some veggies and calm yourself,” Sheng cracked a grin as they put some green beans in their mouth.

The jellyfish demon moodily just chewed on his food in silence.

“Children, all of them,” Mei said as she set down the bowl of Okra Ahmed passed her.

“So have you heard about the rumors about Yakimoto,” Yanyu leaned into MK.

“Yakimoto? The head of the Neurology department?”

“That’s the one.”

“What about her?”

“Well recently I have heard from a friend of mine, who heard from the janitor, who had heard from a physician of that department, that he had heard that she had been having little outings with her lovely secretary of hers,” she whispered loudly.

“Wait, doesn't she have a husband?” His eyes widened.

“Yes she does, but she’s always complaining about the whole ordeal being set up as an arranged marriage by both of their parents-”

“That’s still a thing?”

“Apparently, the two see each other as siblings.”

“Really?!”

“Totally, in fact, there have been whispers that her husband also has a special man as well.”

“Shut up, tell me more,” he stuffed the Tofu in his mouth as Yanyu began to talk all about the man at the flower shop a couple of blocks down from Pigsy noodles.

“Is it always this loud,” Wukong smiled as he watched the table filled with little chaos.

“Like you wouldn’t believe it,” he said as he ate. “Just be glad this isn’t a holiday dinner then it really would be chaotic. Especially with everyone else that would join in,” he remembered last new year when they finally dragged Pigsy to close down the shop for one night to enjoy the holiday. It was a mad scene of chaos and energy as all of them were raving like mad lunatics even before the food came out, Ahmed and Sandy were barely able to stop Sheng, Daiyu, Tang, and Mei from setting off fireworks right next to some containers of peanut oil. And that was after MK and Mei had already demolished the kitchen with Yanyu siblings looking for the moon cakes.

“Everyone else?” He questioned as he noticed the slight smile on his friend's face.

“Oh don’t worry, stick around long enough and you’ll meet them face to face rather than watching them creepily from the distance” he shook himself out of memories.

The Monkey Sage paused, then he smiled widely, “I can’t wait then.”

“Okay, now can we learn how the hell you met Shun!” Mei exclaimed as everyone settled down in the living room. “Cause, I’m surprised you didn’t smell the crazy off of him at first sight.”

“It’s always the quiet ones that get you,” Daiyu muttered. “He seemed alright, but he was just hiding his batshit craziness.

“Right, I mean that just goes to show doc always had terrible taste in partners,” Yanyu nodded.

“Partners” Monkey King emphasized, “as in more than one.”

“Oh yeah, he has quite the number of people after his plump ass,” Minsheng smirked as they tried to smack Mac on the ass when he passed by him, but he winced when a black tail wrapped around his hand and flipped him over.

“No,” the simian deadpanned and was about to sit down next to Ahmed when Wukong pulled him over and sat him down beside him.

“Seems like you're quite popular then,” he joked and wrapped his arm around him.

“Not really popularity wise, but more of him simply having bad taste,” Sheng teased.

“I mean you're not wrong,” he shrugged as he sank into Wukong’s side.

“But how?!” Mei whined once more.

“Tell us!” MK soon joined her as he laid on Red lap.

“I’m quite interested to hear this as well,” the prince asked as well.

“Pleasseee,” Wukong batted his eyes

“Fine, fine, I’ll bite,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s not that interesting how we met, in fact, it was pretty normal.”

“What was it?”

“Amid a territory brawl over a section of land out in the Azurite Forest.”

“…okay I think we have two very different definitions

of normal,” Mei deadpanned.

“Probably, anyways I was sitting high in the tree watching these assholes argue-”

“I told you that past the Vivion Treeline was our territory and yet you dare go past that line and defy us!”

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that before you send your minions down and scavenge in our territory first!”

“You have no proof of any trespassing that happened!”

“Are you saying my own lies to my face?! HA! Now that’s a laugh to even think about, no I trust them long before I will even think about breathing in your direction!”

“I suppose it’s best you lay down and suffocate cause there is no way in hell that my boys lied to me!”

“Now ain’t that a lie!”

“That’s rich coming from you!”

“Sheesh, of course I would happen to stumble upon this right when I have to get some Fuchsia berries,” Macaque grumbled as he watched the argument from above. “Damn idiots.”

“I happen to agree,” Mac barely flinched when a calm voice called out and saw from the tree to the right of him was a gray lemur with a black and white striped tail. “I too have some important items that I need to procure, but these heathens happen to be in my way.”

“Only found in this forest,” the simian said.

“Unfortunately yes the Inada spiritual root is only grown here, if it was elsewhere I would have already turned back and away from this nonsense,” he scrunched his nose in distaste.

“I feel ya on that, the berries that I need happen to be for an elixir for the spiritual development of the 8th degree. One of my clients needs it after her body is close to breaking down due to her organs inability to support her fire breath,” he sighed as he looked down at the argument once more and noted that it would soon turn into an all out brawl.

“You're talking about the Firaga Restoration Elixir,” the lemur had a glint in his eyes. “Not many physicians know of that and even less have the ability to make it.”

“Made it a few times before…how about we help each other out?” He tapped his chin as an idea came to him.

“Go on.”

“Our items are pretty much in the same area, if we can sneak around and past the tree line then it would be homestretch from then on cause I am quickly picking up that most of the demons from each tribe are here.”

“Hmm, sounds adequate though do you believe to be capable enough to pass them undetected,” he turned to look at the monkey only to blink when he saw he wasn’t there anymore.

“Now where did he-”

“Is this good enough for you,” the lemur’s tail quickly shot towards the voice, but it was stopped by a hand. “Sorry, did I scare ya,” Macaque grinned as he held onto the furry tail.

The lemur blinked a few times before a smile grew, “It would appear that you have.”

“Well let’s get moving and the name is Macaque,” he let go of the tail, but the tail didn’t let go as it instead kept almost a loose grip around Mac's hand.

“I’m Shun,” the lemur purred as he stepped forward until their bodies were pressed together and he leaned down until they were nose to nose. “It will be a pleasure working with you.” And like he wasn’t even there, he quickly stepped back and began to move above the treetops of where the fight had commenced.

Macaque stood still for a brief moment before a fierce blush took over his face and he silently followed Shun. If both tree climbers happened to take glances at one another throughout the trip, no one would affirm anything.

“Like I said, horrible taste in partners,” Yanyu stated once more.

“Yeah, like you let him all up in your space and didn’t say a word, clearly bad,” Mei nodded.

“Like seriously, who would just go up and invade someone's personal bubble like that, totally rude,” MK joined in.

“You should have kicked his ass when he did that Mango, you have done it before,” Wukong said as he nonchalantly dragged him to his lap and rested his chin on Mac’s shoulder. “Don’t let anyone near you unless you want to.”

Everyone, barring Macaque and Wukong were either subtly or straight out eyeing Wukong, who was still cuddled up next to the black simian. They can practically taste the hypocrisy going on here.

“Okay I get it,” he put his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t need to gang up on me like that.”

“So what happened after that?” MK asked.

“Well the rest is history, he began to hang around my place a lot more and next thing I knew we were going on dates with each other,” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Daiyu perked up, “did he ever ask you out?”

“Of cou-…” he stopped mid sentence as he thought it over then he furrowed his brow, “actually, now that I think about it, no. He never did. We were just eating out one day at a restaurant and proclaimed it to be a date.”

“Pops/Doc/Mango/Dude really,” Mei, Yanyu, Wukong, and Minsheng all groaned as the rabbit demon continued, “you really should have known something was up after that.”

“I really didn’t,” he rubbed the back of his head as he remembered he was taken aback by his statement but went with it as he did have a small crush on him back then.

“Just be glad you weren’t around to see Hui,” Ahmed said, receiving a wounded look from Macaque.

“Kitty, I thought you were on my side!”

“I am…just not when it comes to your choice of partners.”

“Even Mufasa here knows that she was batshit insane,” Bohai deadpanned, “nice and hilarious, but holy shit was she insane.”

“She wasn’t that-”

“Did you forget that she was a raging alcoholic scorpion that had the desire to go up to not only to the Celestial Realm and raid their alcohol supply, but to go down under all the way to Yama realm and claim the title of all the ten kings and live in luxury,” Minsheng bluntly stated.

“Just not Yama crown, because she stated that she didn’t want to do all of that work, not because it was suicidal to try to fight him,” Daiyu continued. She loves to fight as much as her siblings, but even she knew better than to pick a fight with one of the big boys on top, or in this case, down below.

“And I’m not even gonna mention that when she was in her drunken rage, she had the tendency to poison others with her tails when they stood opposed or even just breathed near her,” Bohai finished.

“…” Macaque said nothing as he just leaned closer to the other monkey, who happily complied with his actions as he further tightened his arm around him and silently rubbed his thumb on his shoulder.

“So much bad taste in partners, so much,” the bluenette put her head in her hands.

“I’m starting to see your point,” the pigtailed adult agreed as she glanced at the scene with a curious look.

“At least we don’t have to worry about that anymore, what I’m a bit curious about is how all of you guys met MK here,” Wukong tried to subtly move on from the conversation of Macaque’s romantic relationship. If he had to hear about yet another demon he dated, he might actually lose his mind.

“Oh let me!” MK eagerly began, “well I remember that I was sleeping when I heard Daiyu yell out.”

“Because of course it was her,” the bluenette said.

“And I walk into the room and-” as MK enthusiastically told the story, Wukong had quietly taken out the red rubber band holding his hair in a ponytail and gazed at the silky black fur cascaded down his back. And before he knew it, his fingers were entangled in Mac’s fluffy fur as the other simian sighed at the soft touches.

“Been a long time since you did this,” Mac purred as he relaxed into the grooming.

“Well it’s about time we pick it back up, besides no one is better at grooming than a monkey,” he purred, but he paused as he quietly had thought and delicately asked, “speaking of monkeys, do you want to visit the ones back at Flower Fruit?”

Mac's eyes widened as he almost instantly turned his head, but was stopped by hands, “Are you serious?”

“I mean they have missed you a whole lot,” he tried to nonchalantly say, “especially since they smelt you on the kid and was practically begging me to bring your ass over.”

“They are still demanding little shits huh,” he gave a small huff.

“The one thing that hasn’t changed.”

“…yeah I would like that,” he smiled up at him.

“Cool, cool,” he couldn’t stop his tail from excitedly wagging behind him, but he instead tried to stall it by looking at the fluffy fur once more as another purr came through. It’s not his fault he couldn’t stop it from emerging from his long time crush response and his fascination with his long fur.

“You really do have such a long fur, why’d you grow it out anyways, not that I’m complaining.”

“I dunno, I just forgot to cut it short and when I finally noticed I decided to just keep it,” he shrugged.

“Well I’m glad you did, it looks amazing on you,” Wukong said as he looked down to meet Macaque’s eyes and promptly realizing what he said, he quickly averted his gaze and nervously laughed, “Or you know, it looks good.”

“Ah, umm thanks,” the doctor said as he felt the faint blush on his cheeks.

The sage monkey was about to say something else when he noticed that a few eyes were on him and he quickly went back to his grooming session. While making completely sure that his eyes didn’t even go towards anywhere in their direction.

The traffic light trio saw the scene and they all shared a glance at one another, but opted to say nothing as the story continued and the two monkeys, in everyone's eyes, began to cuddle up together.

“Where is he?” Red huffed as he sat on the opposite side of Mei at one of the arcade booths. “Usually he’s the first one here.”

“I know he was helping Pigsy out with a large Party order, but that should have been done by now,” Mei shrugged as she took another sip of her drink.

“Well he should hurry it up else I will-”

“What’s up, party dudes!” An energetic voice cried out that instantly made Mei spit out her drink.

“Oh hell no!” She stood up as she grabbed her dagger and was inwardly cursing herself about leaving her sword at home, “I’m not about to deal with you a second time! Not today Satan!”

“Should I be concerned?” Red raised an eyebrow as he looked at MK, who was for some reason wearing a pink visor, blue headphones and an atrocious cheetah print outfit. “Cause this whole look right here is very concerning.”

“No need to worry hot stuff,” MK said as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Not here to do any lasting damage, unless you're into that,” he winked.

“W-w-what?!” A small burst of flame erupted from his head.

“I don’t trust that for a second,” the Dragon successor hissed as she still held her dagger up.

“I swearsies doll.”

“Wha-no stay focused,” she faltered but shook it off, “That is rich coming from the disembodied attachment of my friend who can just poof in and out without consequences of your actions.”

“Disembodied?” Red, still under the clone arm, confusedly said.

“Touché,” he pointed a finger, “but for real, I’m just here to deliver a message from the big boss himself.”

“Talk,” she demanded as she slightly lowered her weapon at that.

“BB will be late due to a crazy ass bitch on the block doin her usual bitch in and be all complainin about her food order being all wrong and demanding that they hand it over for free.”

“Oh,” Mei's eyebrow raised. “Bet that didn’t go over well.”

“No it did not my lovely Empress, cause next thing they knew the bitch was calling up the rest of her posse upon BB and Big Bad Boss and now she is yellin her ass about about some scam they be tryin to pull on them all.”

“I’m starting to see where this is head,” she sheathed her blade when she said that, though she did have a light blush of confusion over the nickname.

“Your thoughts be right as the next thing anyone knows, everyone is brawling with each other so hard that even some of the people on the street just up and joined in.”

“So MK got mixed up in that, but why didn’t he just text us that,” the Bull successor asked as he finally recognized that this was a clone and not the real MK.

“Cause Triple B ordered Double B to not get the food ruined under any circumstances my sweet King so now BB is hauling ass all around the town as the Karen Gang chase after his ass,” Portay MK smirked as he saw the prince blush.

“Karen Gang,” she snorted at the nickname, “Does he need any help, cause I will be more than happy to bust a few heads for him.”

“I as well.”

“Aww ain’t the both of you just a bundle of sweetness, makes me want to give you both a big ol kiss,” he flirted once more.

“Just show us!” At this point both teenagers had either a small or large flush on their faces.

“Alright Alright, I’ll show ya,” he said as he quickly made his way out of the arcade and to the streets with them both following. “But I won’t stop~ Someone got to help Double B get the ball rollin and I guess it will have to be me. This will be so much fun,” he muttered.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing my Sugar hearts!” He smiled at their groans of embarrassment.

“Is he always like this?!”

“I met him once and that was when he had me tied up during a never ending party, which I still can’t fully remember due to all the sugar and caffeine I inhaled.”

“The WHAT?!”

“Oh yeah, that was a ride.”

“Man, it’s been a long time since I’ve been here, huh,” Macaque mused as he and MK climbed up the mountain.

“Right, you lived here before,” MK said as they climbed up the steps. “What was it like back then?”

“Honestly, at first it looks and feels the same, every time that I breathe I can still smell the crisp pine air and the heavy mineral undertones that I still smell on Monkey King,” he took a deep breath. “This place really brings back some memories.”

“Good ones?” The doctor to be said with a bit of hope as they finally reached the top.

“Yeah, good ones,” he stopped as his ears pricked up at an incoming sound. “That screech,” he whispered.

“Huh?” MK looked to his Dad, only to be bombarded with the most ear piercing noise.

SCREEEEEECCCCCCHHHHHH

Then, almost out of nowhere, a hoard of monkeys all popped out and practically flew towards the black simian.

“What the-!” MK was startled by the sudden attack and was about to step forward to his Dad only to pause at the sight of multiple monkeys, all of them screeching in delight, clinging onto him as the demon joyfully nuzzled them back.

“I missed you guys too,” he purred as he felt many cuddles underneath his chin, on his back, upon his arms, even on top of his head. He really missed these idiots.

“Awwww,” the adult cooed at the adorable sight.

“Man, that was faster than I was expecting,” the student turned and saw his mentor standing right behind him. “One moment they were playing and the next thing I know they all began to run off. I swear their smell has gotten better over these years.”

“So that’s why they could smell Dad on me that time.”

“You got it,” he finger gunned him as he walked up to the pile of monkeys. “So it seems this is one-”

“HISSSSSSS!” All the monkeys clinging onto Macaque hissed at their idiotic king.

“Yeah, I deserved that,” he deadpanned as he plopped himself onto the pile, with MK following suit. “But I promise we won’t be so stupid again.”

“Ooo oo,” a female monkey crossed her arms as she sat on the monkey doctor's head.

“King honor,” he raised his hand.

“Ooo,” she nodded and gave him a flick on the nose before snuggling back on top of the head.

“She really hasn't changed one bit,” Mac snorted at her antics.

“Nope, but she is still as bossy as ever,” he smiled and gave her a scratch on her head.

“Especially when she forced me to drink water,” MK piped up, “she literally forced it down my throat after one of the sessions. I didn’t think you could drown via water bottle, but when there's a monkey there's a way.”

“Yeah, sounds like her,” both monkeys said.

The sun was beginning to set as MK and the rest of the tribe were all playing out in the mountains in an extreme game of hide and seek. Extreme as in they all will literally yeet themself off the tallest rock just so they won’t get found, the first couple of times MK played this he had to stop his heart from trying to run out of his chest, but he slowly found himself enjoying throwing himself off like a rabid maniac. Is there something wrong with all of them? Maybe, but no one can deny that it is really fun.

“I swear, their IQ always seems to decrease when they play these games,” Mac muttered as he watched his child vault himself off of a rock just so the seeker wouldn’t catch him.

“Didn’t you think of this?” Wukong hummed as he smirked when he saw his student delicately land on one of the boulders below.

“Yep and I still don’t know if I regret it.”

“I mean you did worse,” he coyly smirked.

“You don’t want to talk about dumbass ideas with me Mr. ‘Let’s just ambush the trailing cart of a tired ass deity that would happily shank up on our sleep.’” He snarked back.

“Says the one who thought it would be a good idea to toss me in the water, forgetting that my stone ass can’t swim!” He shot back, they were playing around and Macaque had the jump of him and tossed him in the river. The black simian paused at what he just did and immediately panicked and dived down after him.

“You should really think about losing a few pounds, you were heavy,” he mocked and then got promptly tackled by the other monkey.

“I’ll show you heavy, how’d you like that mushroom brain,” he teased as he began to wrestle him.

“Says you rock for brains,” he shot back as he tried to get the upper hand. This went on for a few minutes as both monkeys playfully began to wrestle each other on the ground. It ended when Wukong managed to pin him down while holding his hands above his head and wrapping his tail firmly around the others.

“HA! I win!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed after he tried to get out after a few attempts. “Don’t get such a big head about it.”

“Aww, but you know it only does good things to my ego~,” he teased as he leaned down.

“No it doesn’t, simply it’s truly terrible.”

“It does!”

“Does not!”

“Does!”

“Does not!

“Does!”

“Does not!”

“Does!”

“Does!”

“Does not! Damnit!” He cursed at the trickery.

“How do you fall for it every single time,” he openly laughed.

Wukong was about to refute when he saw just how close to each other they were and sucked in a breath. He can feel his chest against his own with each breath of air, he can see the faintest shimmer of violet deep within his golden eyes, he can feel his nose touching the soft button nose of his partner.

Macaque obviously heard the intake of breath, no super hearing necessary, and was about to ask when he too stopped short. It could be from the fact that their noses were so close to each other that he could feel his warm breath, the way he could feel the muscle very clearly against his own fur, or even how his golden eyes seem to be extra bright today that he can’t. Stop. Looking.

Neither pair noticed a pair of human eyes locking onto them with a curious expression on his face as he slowly backed up.

Either way, all of those reasons are very much valid in both of their minds as a familiar silence filled the air and it felt oh so good as they just almost blend together as one. This wasn’t the usual safe cuddles that both were adjusted to, no this was something long in the making, that this was something that was more than the friend standpoint that they anchored themselves down on and refuse to step off. This was something even more than love, but the word itself is the only thing that fits what they feel for the other, and they instinctively knew that there is something more between them, something devastatingly eternal.

There can be more if they just make that step off the cliff and into the unknown air.

But not today, no not today.

Instead, Macaque put his foot back down to that safe cliff and latched on tightly as cleared his throat. “You want to get off me anytime, I kinda want to feel my bones sometime,” he managed to say. He can’t take that step, he knows he’s a coward when it comes to admitting that he actually loves Wukong, but they just became friends once more after their stupid separation and he refuses to do anything that jeopardizes it.

“Right, my bad,” he said with a fake smile plastered on as he got off him and sat beside him. He can see the air and he can feel his feet wanting to make that leap into the foggy air and see how far the two can go, but he will push down that impulse. He wants this so badly, for centuries (no matter how hard he tries to deny it) he wants to admit that he loves Macaque, but he will keep his mouth shut. His impulsiveness has already done enough damage as it is, no need to add the emotional turmoil on top of all the other shit he did to his friend.

The two of them sat in silence once more as they sat side by side to each other, totally ignoring the small moment between.

“So…what are you doing for the Lunar New Year?” Wukong asked in an effort to get rid of the silence.

“Well this year, we’re gonna spend it in the city with the others this time around. Everyone brings some food, usually, I bring the moon cakes as I have the extra hands and you can never have too many.” Ever since he had met Yanyu, who had dragged him to his first Lunar year with her family in the city, it had become somewhat of a tradition to go to the city every two years and spend time together. “What are you doing?”

“Oh you know, just gonna chill on the mountain with good food and watch the fireworks,” he nonchalantly said.

“Just by yourself,” he questioningly asked. If there was one of the many things he knew about Wukong, it was that he hated being alone on any occasion. He knew it stemmed from his own weird beginnings and his unawareness of the societal norms at the start, but it all went downhill after he was trapped in the mountain with only the bitch ass spirits keeping guard, he could only sneak in so many times before one of the guards noticed something amiss, unfortunately. (Though he quite happily stopped by when Wukong was finally free and he had quite the playtime with them, he still can’t help but grin at the sound of their screams. It was truly music to his ears.)

“Yeah,” he shrugged. It wasn’t anything new, ever since his friends have…gone, he couldn’t quite bring himself to spend the holiday with anyone other than the tribe from time to time. It just doesn’t feel right anymore…it doesn’t feel like he has the right anymore.

“Yeah, no. Your ass is coming with me to the festival,” Mac deadpanned.

“What?!” He turned his head so hard that he could almost hear his neck snap.

“You. Are. Spending. The. Festival. With. Us.” He slowly emphasized each word as if he couldn’t understand it. “Got it.”

“But-but-”

“We’re not talking about your ass here, but you are coming.”

“I don’t want to intrude, it will probably be really weird,” he tried to rebuttal.

“The group has almost twenty people and then those people will sometimes bring their friends along, the more the merrier.”

“What about how I look, cause no offense, but I don’t want to be mowed down in a frenzy to get an autograph or a picture or something!”

“We both know you have a human disguise, hell I sometimes use my own from time to time.”

“But-”

“Wukong,” he grabbed his shoulders. “You are going to come to the Lunar Festival with us.”

The monkey opened his mouth once more, but sighed and sagged his shoulder. “When have you become so demanding.”

“I learned that from you,” he smirked.

“Pfft, nahh you have always been a demanding shit even before me,” he chuckled as he laid his head on Mac's shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll join you guys.”

“Great, but if it does get too much just come grab me and we can bail to one of the rooftops,” he shifted and wrapped an arm around his shoulder.

He smiled into his shoulder, “I wouldn’t mind that buttt I wouldn’t mind trying one of the moon cakes, especially if you make some with peaches in them.”

The doctor fondly rolled his eyes, “I’ll make some peach candy mooncakes for you dumbass.”

“Yes!”

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs (cause it's always nice to give a shout out and get people into things I'm into rn)

[The Magnus Archives] (I recently finished the podcast and I fell into a hole for a while so here you go)

Sing a Song of Sixpence by Kaiel

Ship: Jon/Martin

In which Jonathan Sims is a Siren, and he fails to notice any new abilities granted to him by the position of Archivist. Or really anything about the Entities at all.

Takes place in season 1 featuring Jonah Magnus’s slow decent into madness

(The new mythology interwoven with tma's worldbuilding is so freaking good and I love how all the characters change and develop because of these changes. Also, f you Elias)

Along Came a Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Ship: implied Jon/Martin

Sasha James is the Archivist, as expected. Martin Blackwood is menaced by Jane Prentiss, as expected. Elias Bouchard weaves his web, as expected.

All goes as it should.

At least until something calling itself Jonathan Sims steps in.

(Web!Jon in this makes me want to weep, it's so freaking good. A pretty long, very excellent oneshot on what could've happened if Jon got taken by the web when he was a kid. And Sasha as the Archivist is ALWAYS so cool, we love her in this house.)

A Break in the Clouds by Ash_Rabbit

“I’m eight.” the kid sniffs as if eight was any different from four, maybe not an unspeakable horror then, just a regular horror. “And I heard that the Magnus Institute deals with-” his little nose scrunches, cute. “-spooky things.”

“Do you have a-” he cracks a grin, and then rethinks it as small hands tighten against their burden.”-spooky thing to deliver?” gods he hopes not, it’s bad enough when adults walk in and lay out all of their baggage, but for a child-

“There’s a spider in this book.” the kid says solemnly, raising his textbook sized parcel. “It ate Evan Pritchard.” a bloody fucking Leitner. Of course an eight year old would find a murder spider book. “This seemed like the best place to bring it.”

(I never thought about what the Original Elias could've been like AND NOW I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT IT BECAUSE OF THIS FIC. I LOVE HIM, HE'S COMPLEX AND HE CARES AND JON CARES AND THEY BOTH CARE ABOUT EACH OTHER. THIS IS THE CONTENT I WANT, OMG. Also, Jon being even smaller than usual is adorable, so cute. No wonder Elias wants to hug him, a LOT.)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea by The_Floating_World

Ship: Jon/Martin, Jon/Oliver Banks

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

(One of my all time fave fics in this fandom, no questions asked. I have reread this three times and am open to doing it again, god. Vast!Jon, such a concept. It's written so beautifully and the relationships Jon develops, so good. ugh. My heart. Please please read.)

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Ship: Jon/Martin

“Come in, Martin,” he says, not looking up from his notes.

“Hi, Jon,” he says, and Jon stops writing at the sound of his voice. “We’re out of the green tea, but we’ve got lemon?”

Jon looks at him. Martin smiles at him in his usual tentative way as he sets the mug of tea down on Jon’s desk. Heat spikes so sharply in his gut that he twitches with it.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, mouth dry, and he stands up.

“Oh,” he says, sounding almost surprised. He smiles again. “No-- no problem-- um, what are you--”

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

(You have no idea how much I howled through this fic, my god. *buries face in hands* The number of times I wanted to cry from sheer hilarity and horror reading this good lord.)

Things Could Always Be Worse by theOestofOCs

Ship: Jon/Martin, Georgie/Melanie

Sometimes, the most horrifying thing of all is what might have been.

Somewhere, Jon could swear he heard a crowd laughing.

Or: in which Jonathan Sims is forced to swap places with his alternate self—a tall, chivalrous hero extraordinaire, who knows neither fear nor nuance—and is sent to the aggressively straight alternate universe the Magnus Archives was never meant to be.

“Whatever place this is,” Jon announced, “I just want to be sure it knows I hate it.”

(I will say this once, THIS IS THE MOST CURSED THING IVE EVER READ EVER. Like holy hell. I can't believe this thing exists. please read it oh please please please)

-

[Supernatural]

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) by Schmuzz

Ship: Dean/Cas, Jessica/Sam

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

1. Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; 2. He has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; 3. He keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who seems to be about as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

(THE fic I'm most into right now, been following this from the very start and it's AMAZING. Cas has agency and is making friends and S1 Dean is growing out of John's influence and is becoming a Person and the both of them first being friends then more. The slow burn as their relationship develops, SO GOOD. SO SO DAMN GOOD. *screams* Seriously one of the best spn fics I've read in a long, long time.)

anamnesis by cenotaphy

Ships: Castiel/Dean, Sam/Eileen

Chuck is depowered, Jack is the new god, and the world is free. Dean and Sam get into the Impala and chase down the miles on an endless highway, and their story is finally, finally their own to follow. At least, that's what Dean tells himself. But the diners and motels and painted interstate lines are blurring together and the smallest details keep catching at his brain like tiny fishhooks and he can't quite shake the feeling that not everything is exactly as it should be.

* Fix-it/alternate series finale. Canon-compliant through the end of 15.19.

(THIS IS THE FIC THAT GOT ME THROUGH THE FINALE OKAY. WHY COULDN'T THIS HAVE BEEN CANON. It's Disturbing and honestly plot-wise this makes more sense. Why couldn't we have had this. *screams*)

-

[Avatar: The Last Airbender]

where the stars do not take sides by WitchofEndor

Ship: Sokka/Zuko

When Azula is nine, she becomes an only child. She hears the Fire Lord call for Zuko's life, and in the morning, her mother and brother are gone. Azula may be young, but she isn't naive. She knows what happened to them.

Which makes it all the more surprising when Azula tracks the Avatar down and fights his group of peasant friends, only to find herself staring into an eerily familiar face.

(The fact one of the tags in this fic is, "Sibling Dynamic: Fucked Up But Wholesome" should give you an idea what this fic is like. Chaotic as HELL and I just love Azula here, she loves Zuko so much in her messed up way and Zuko loves her back in the exact same way lol. It's batshit and I am Here For This.)

-

[Naruto]

Eclipse by AislingRoisin (JayBird345) for HybrisAnaideia

Ship: Nara Shikaku/OFC

"In life, it's easier to remain stagnant and wallow in your troubles. But life isn't merely about continued existence, nor is it meant to be gone through alone."

(This is a fic that's slept on and I NEED people to read this. A self-insert fic that I find really interesting in its approach and the worldbuilding for the post-third war shinobi world is fantastic. I feel like there's a certain pattern with self-insert fics, not that is a detriment in any way to how much I enjoy them, so this fic feels fresh to me in a way I haven't read in a while. I am waiting eagerly for this to get updated! Please read!)

On Freedom and Other Formalities by iaso

Ship: Kakashi/Genma/OFC

When push comes to shove, Hiwa Inuzuka doesn't go down easy. Reborn into a new, dangerous world? She puts her past life as a spy to work. Thrown into a war? Hiwa does her duty, for Konoha. And when she's forced into an arranged marriage? All there is to do is beat them to the punch and get married first. Thankfully, Genma Shiranui is willing to lend a hand. Literally. SI/OC

(Listen, LISTEN, it's about the slow burn, the longing, the communication (it both has and hasn't and isn't THAT great??), the messy way you fit three very different people together, it's so freaking good! Also, Kakashi is so Chaotic here this is my fave characterization of him, you can't change my mind. And Genma is a Good Boi who is Doing His Best, along with the Self-insert character who I LOVE SO MUCH, SHE'S FANTASTIC FNEIWOPAF. Sped past this fic in the speed of light, I could not stop reading!)(Honestly, read all of the author's fics, they're all really REALLY good!)

Building a Castle by WhisperingDarkness

Without needing anyone to tell her, Sakura knew that talking to someone no-one else could see or hear would make her weird. It would draw the bad kind of attention to her, something people could make fun of her for.

She didn’t like being weird, but she did like the voice. Her inner voice was helpful and it was a part of her that had always been there. The idea of it not being there would have been so much weirder than anything else.

It was during her first year at the Academy that Sakura realised the voice was not in her head at all, but that it came from a cloudy shape floating next to her.

(Basically a short-ish retelling of Hikaru no Go. Only with more Shogi and Nara and Ninja's)

(Sakura can see ghosts (I'm noticing this is a popular trope for her) and it's really cute haha! Her relationship with Tobirama is sweet and I just enjoyed reading this so much.)

-

[The Magicians]

So Long (And Thanks For All The Books) by IncompleteSentanc (Erava)

Ships: Quentin/Eliot, James/Julia, Quentin/Margo/Eliot

When Quentin is told Julia wasn't admitted to Brakebills, he realizes he has a drastic decision in front of him. If he tells Julia about magic, he'll have his mind wiped as well as hers. But he can't just leave her behind, either. He can't lose his best friend, and he can't let her life a life with her magical potential stolen away from her.

So he makes a third choice.

(Really, and I mean REALLY well-done canon divergent fic, this is the Quentin & Julia friendship fic I have been looking for forever. It explores so much of what could've happened and I just love Quentin here, I really really do. Characterization done so right. I also recommend the author's other works too. Been a follower of them for a long time, they're great.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

The Road to Victory by writing_as_tracey

Too late in preparing for the Night King and the Long Night, the last stand at Winterfell is close to falling. Bran takes desperate measures to ensure victory, and Jon, Sansa, and Arya pay the price for it in a time unfamiliar to them, on the cusp of another war. [GoT, time-travel fix it]

(I swear, this fic made me laugh so many times, all the Stark are BAMF and fantastic, and Rhaegar gets Wrecked lol. It's crack btw, and the plot goes in directions you'll never guess and it's amazing hahaha!)

-

[Haikyuu!!] (I am very very late to the fandom but here I am)

Ballare (To Dance) by MidnightSparks

Ship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru, and platonic Kageyama & Kentarou (really love their friendship)

Kageyama’s first love is volleyball. His second, however, is ballet.

In one world, Kageyama Tobio is left behind by his parents. In this world, the existence of soulbonds keeps Kageyama’s parents in Miyagi and leaves Kageyama in the care of his grandma and grandpa.

(In which soulmates exist and that changes everything and nothing at the same time.)

(*buries face in hands* I have fallen for this ship so hard and I can't get out fudge me. I understand now. Their DYNAMICS FIEWONPAF)

Kings of Tomorrow by bokubroya (liarielle)

Ship: Kageyama Tobio/Oikawa Tooru

On the eve of Tobio’s 16th birthday, he counts down the seconds to midnight, and emerges with Oikawa Tooru’s name on his wrist.

It’s been two years since then, and Tobio thought they had an understanding. A silent, never spoken about understanding that this thing between them is nothing, and they’re going to pretend it doesn’t exist.

Of course, it’s just like Oikawa to change the game and leave Tobio wondering what comes next.

(I am WEAK for soulmate fics between these two, I don't even really like soulmate fics half the times what is WRONG WITH ME-)(Please suffer with me, I'm begging you. Its a good fic, thumbs up.)

-

[Crossover]

Honey and Magic by JustARatherVerySillyWriter, White_Squirrel for Super Carlin Brothers

Fandoms: Matilda (yeah you read that right), Harry Potter

Everyone knew Matilda was a rather extraordinary child, but even she didn't know she was a witch. Matilda Honey receives her Hogwarts letter in the year of the Triwizard Tournament, and soon, she will leave her unique mark on the magical world.

(Do I even need to explain how amazing it is to have Matilda in the wizarding world? And Matilda is a HUFFLEPUFF AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL THIS FIC IS GREAT PLEASE READ!!!)

An Eye for an Eye by DpsMercy

Fandoms: The Magnus Archives, Welcome to Night Vale

In which Jonathan Sims is not from the UK but instead, if you took his origins and turned them sideways twice then flipped them over, he technically would be from the US, the town of Night Vale specifically. Elias can’t do shit about it and gets a headache and slowly creeping madness instead.

(Look, I know probably everyone has read this because if they haven't, what have you been DOING with your lives??? Jon interning at Night Vale is Incredible, nothing phases this man, it's Delightful. I laughed so many times reading this, I'm not even kidding right now. Read or perish.)

The Favour by R_Cookie

Fandoms: Harry Potter, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Ship: Original Percival Graves/Harry Potter

Percival is ten years old when his grandfather tries to tell him that he's ensured the greatness of the Graves legacy for him, that he ought to be eternally grateful - but the explanation is hijacked by a stranger who manages to intimidate Chester Graves with an ease never seen before.

or: Hadrian (Harry) Potter is the Master of Death, who grants Graves a boon. Nobody could have known that the Deathly Hallows didn't turn you so much into the 'Master of Death' as into the anthropomorphic personification of Death. And so, Death becomes Percival's guardian angel, and Percival does not spit out his cereal.

(Look, I don't know how I stumbled back into the FBAWTFT fandom either, it just happened and I'm grateful for that. Otherwise, I wouldn't have found this amazing fic. Their relationship is slow and strange and I just love how Percival is characterized here. Also, one of the tag promises that it deviates from canon so I am really, really excited for that! XD)

baby that's what i do by natanije

Fandoms: Naruto, Katekyou Hitman Reborn!

"Are you telling me," Hidan exclaims, incredulous, "that you collect money all this time to give to orphans?!"

Kakuzu pauses. He blinks a few times.

"Huh. I guess I do."

(Tsuna reincarnates as Kakuzu and it's HILARIOUS. HE'S SUCH A MOM HAHAHA)

[cappsikle]

just a bunch of fools (in love) // george weasley

Request: omg !!! could you please do a continuation for “just a bunch of fools” where george asks reader to marry him 🥺🥺🥺 <3

read the first part here! 

Pairing: george weasley x reader

Summary: the world seems so dark and heavy, but george doesn’t want to do this with anyone but you

Warnings: nope! 

Word Count: 1.7k 

A/N: I’m soooo sorry that this took so long! I had major writer’s block I just hope you like it!

(I’m just gonna say it now, the ending is trash because I just wanted to get it out for you, I’m so sorry >_<)

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

-------

Everyone at the Burrow was tense, all still dealing with the aftermath of the attack at the wedding. That was also the night Harry, Ron and Hermione left, along with Bill and Fluer who created a safe house for themselves and members of the Order. So, in the end, it was only you, the twins, ginny, Molly and Arthur who remained at the Burrow until it was time to move to a safer location. No one really spoke to each other, not being able to find the words. What exactly can you say that will make the situation better? The minister of magic was dead, and the ministry had been taken over. You were struggling to grasp anything that resembled hope, it managing to just slip through your fingers. 

Your heart was heavy, dread settling into the pit of your stomach as you sat on the couch in front of the fire. Everyone else had retired to bed, but you just couldn’t sleep, so instead you left George in his bed to sit down and think. Though in hindsight, thinking probably wasn’t the best thing you could do, as you did tend to overthink. What was going to happen next? Where would you go? Are Harry and the others ok? The deeper you went into your thoughts, the more unaware you became of your surroundings, which resulted in you practically jumping out of your skin when you felt a pair of hands over your shoulders.

“shit!” you jumped up from the couch, a hand over your chest as you tried to tame your rapidly racing heart, “George, you scared me!”

“Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to,” you nodded slowly and sat back down, George following and sitting next to you, “what are you doing up so late anyway?”

You shrugged your shoulders, bringing your knees up to your chest and placing your chin in the little divot between them. “just couldn't sleep, yakow... with everything going on.” George nodded his head in understanding, pursing his lips as he got lost in thought. He could see the toll the war had taken on you, effecting your ability to eat and sleep normally. He just wished he knew what to do or say that could make you feel better, but George too was struggling to see the light at the end of this very long and very dark tunnel.

“Would you like something to drink? A cup of tea, maybe?”

You smile sweetly at him and nodded gently, “that would be nice, thank you.” you leaned up and gently placed a kiss to his lips as he rose from his seat, making his way to the kitchen.

Putting the kettle to boil, George looked at you from his place at the kitchen, just taking the time to admire you and your features. From the way your hair fell into your eyes, soft from the light of the fire and the evident tiredness to the little dimple only present on your right cheek even from the smallest of movements from your tempting lips. If there was one thing George knew for sure, it was that in a time where the world was batshit crazy, you were the one that gave him hope for a better future, a future together. That's when he got the idea.

As if electrocuted from a spark, George raced off upstairs towards his room, although he was very careful not to make any noise that would wake his sleeping family. Practically overflowing with nerves and excitement, George ever-so-carefully pushed his door open, squeezing in and tiptoeing to avoid waking up Fred. He walked over to his bedside table and grabbed the little velvet box sitting in the drawer, turning it over in his hands. Was he really about to do this? Was he sure that this is something you’d want, to get engaged right in the middle of a war?  

“So, you’re finally going to do it?” George swore his heart literally jumped out of his chest at the sound of his twin’s tired and barely-awake voice, fumbling with the box as it almost fell out of his grasp. He turned around to face Fred sitting up on the bed, a tired and lazy smirk on his lips.

“Christ, mate! Warn a guy next time, will you?” Fred chuckled at his brother’s frightened state before his eyes trailed down towards what was in George’s hands.

“I said, are you finally going to do it?” George looked down as well, his lips twitching to a small smile at the sight.

“Yeah, I think I am,”

“Are you sure now of all times is the best idea?”

George looked up at his twin, his other half, as he mulled over his words whilst getting up to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “Look, mate, I’m not sure what’s going to happen over the next few months, but I can’t bear the thought of going through this without the promise that we’ll be together. I love her, more than anything,” Fred looked at his brother, the one person he could count on no matter what, and the solemn look that took over his face. No matter what, he would support his brother’s decision and stand by him with anything, he only wanted to see his brother happy, and he knew that you were the person to make it happy.

Fred nudged George’s shoulder with his elbow, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Look, whatever you do, I support you, and everyone else will too”

George’s face lifted up a bit, grateful for his brother’s words. “I just hope I don’t get rejected,” he said in a joking manner, but there was a hint of seriousness in his voice. What if you do rejected him? Surely you wouldn’t, he hoped.

“I can say with a hundred percent certainty that you will not. You lot are perfect for each other.”

“Thanks, mate.” George smiled up his twin, feeling the energy return with a newfound excitement from his twin’s encouraging words.

“Don’t mention it. Now hurry up and go down there, you left the poor thing hangin’”

George jumped up from the bed, rushing to get downstairs back to you with the box held tightly in his hand. You smiled when you saw George’s lanky figure come back down the steps, dressed in his plaid pajama pants and a plain t-shirt. Noticing George practically bouncing on the spot, you get up from your position on the couch and walk over to him, curious. “What’s got you jumping about the place? You’re basically vibrating,” you chuckled up at him, but your smile fell as you noticed nerves pinching his face, “y’lright, love?”

Just when George thought he couldn’t possibly fall any more in love with you, he was proven wrong upon seeing your concerned face for something as miniscule as feeling nervous. “Y-yeah, ‘m alright,” George looked down at his feet sheepishly, thankful you hadn’t noticed that he was very visibly hiding something behind his back. “Why don’t you come outside with me?”

“Outside? What for?” George raised his head as a sly smirk snaked its way across his lips.

“C’mon, I’ll make it worth your while.” with that, George grabbed your hand and took you through the back door, the light from the inside spilling out to the chilly air.

“George, what’s going on?” you ask curiously, a tint of worry in your voice. You cross your arms over your chest in a futile attempt at warding off the breeze, goosebumps rising on your exposed skin. The cold seemed to have melted away, however, when George grabbed one of your hands from your chest and sunk himself down onto one knee, his other hand still behind his back.

He knew in the grand scheme of things, now was probably a rubbish time to do something like this, but he wanted to have that security that you’d still be his after everything is over. You were confused, what was he doing? He couldn’t be doing... that... right? 

“(Y/N) …” George started, already feeling his start emotions catch up to him. “You are... the best thing that could ever have happened to me. I never thought that in a million years I could have found someone to be like you. Someone so kind, so passionate and so loving, someone willing to do anything and everything to protect those you love without a second thought...”  

George stopped his little speech to gather his thoughts and keep himself from crying. All the while you’re standing there in complete shock. How long had he been planning to do this? You knew what you wanted to say, heck you probably would’ve even said it two years ago. You knew George was who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with, and you would be lying if you hadn’t had dreamt this exact scenario multiple times.  

“I remember when we first met at Kings Cross in our third year, where I ran into you and knocked you off of your feet and said some stupid pick-up-line as a failed attempt of an apology... and the rest is history. I know now isn’t the most ideal time to be doing something like this, being in the middle of a war and all, but maybe it’s because of it that now is a perfect time...” George trailed off with a chuckle, gripping your hand tighter. 

Your hand shook in his as he brought the small box out from behind his back, opening it up to reveal a simple gold band with a small diamond in the middle, but you barely spared it a glance. You were entranced by George’s eyes, filled with so much love and emotion. You couldn’t believe this was happening right now. George was actually asking you to marry him. With tears in his eyes and his voice caught in his throat, he asked the final question.

“Will you, my best friend, my soulmate, do me the absolute honor of marrying me?”

You nodded your head excessively, tears shamelessly spilling from your eyes and trailing down your cheeks. You could barely speak, your words stuck in your throat as you choked up. So instead you flung your arms around his neck, bringing your lips close to his ear and spoke the next words with as much love adoration as you could.

“Yes.”

----------

yikes so that ending was very trash but it’s ok because our baby isn’t. Anyways I hope you guys enjoyed that!! Once I got passed the writers block it was enjoyable to write! 

As always my requests are open so please don’t be shy!

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!!

- Mills <3

[vanillafrog]

I'm Scared to Feel This Way (But You Won't Let Me Run Away)

Pairing: Whiskey x You

Summary: You hated his existence more than anything but once forced to be his trainee, you come to feel a whirlwind of emotions towards Whiskey that overwhelms you completely. Luckily, Whiskey might just feel the same way.

Word Count: 3511

Warnings: angst to smut to fluff, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, degradation and a bit a praise, unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks), creampie

A/N: I wrote this live in front of my friends so they got to watch me black out and write this lol. Though tbh, writing in front of people real time does make you finish things.

To be a Statesman takes hard work and dedication. Something a lot of people don't have the capability of doing which is why there are only a handful of top agents that will take on students from the Academy to train under them as their ward. There are tons of students who prayed and pleaded for an agent to take them under. Some had very specific tastes on who they wanted.

Most of the people wanted to work under someone they found... ahem aesthetically pleasing. This being the case, Agent Jack Daniels or as others called him, Whiskey, had a swarm of people pleading for him to take them under. Some quite literally.

Yet, here this cowboy stood with an annoying smirk on his face as your professor announced that you would be his trainee. It was an amazing opportunity to have but... fuck that dude. You wished any other agent had chose you and from that stupid look on his face, he knew. He always knew that he drove you batshit whenever he would come guest lecture or stand in for the sparring trainer. It was just his energy that made you feral and not in a way you were particularly used to. The accent, the hat, the cocky attitude made you just want to punch him. But you couldn't. Not without completely throwing away your scholarship that you worked too hard to obtain. No, you couldn't punch.

So you would ignore him. At first, whenever he would flirt at you, you would just turn your head to whoever was next to you to make it seem like you thought it was them he was flirting with. After all, those stupid sunglasses made it difficult to tell who he was looking at anyways. Then he started to not wear them around you. Which truthfully was somewhat endearing but the stupid shit that left his mouth dampened the effect.

Then you had to get creative in ignoring him. He'd flirt, you'd look around you like you were lost before shrugging at him and walking away. Whiskey at first was confused by it (maybe a little hurt if he was honest) but that didn't stop the cowboy. If anything, it seemed to encourage him to want to get in your pants even harder.

Soon it just became walking out of rooms he was in and if you couldn't, you just wouldn't listen to anything he said unless he was lecturing or saying something of use. He would find ways of approaching you, talking to you. Even on one occasion, brushing your arm. That didn't end up well for either of you but that was a story for another time.

Now you're stuck following his hick ass around god's creation for the next few months until you were assigned as an official agent. The first month felt like hell on earth but then he became a somewhat bearable presence. He was still flirty and downright arrogant at times but it did seem like he wanted you to do your best in this field. Something you didn't expect if you were honest but that would be your fault for judging a book by its cover. Half way through your second month with him, you began to notice how your eyes would find him instantly whenever entering a room. You shrugged it off as a force of habit from when you were ignoring him. Then at the end of the month, you noticed how you would actively seek him out in those rooms. That bothered you a little. Made it feel like he was winning some game you barely knew the rules of. But whatever, you just went with it. It's not like it could get particularly worse than that.

Then it did. The first time it happened was after you shadowed him on a mission that went sideways. You both were okay and the mission was successful but the scrapes and bruises, the nearly getting shot exhausted you to the bone. That night in your shared hotel room you both shared a bed even though there were two.

He had offered when he noticed how shaken up you were. You had tried to play it off, seem like some type of bad ass. But he saw through it so you ended up cuddled against his chest that night and he was pleasant. Whiskey didn't flirt or be annoying or anything other than a gentleman. Something so rare to see in him. It was like it broke something in you. Or fixed. Something.

Four months as his ward and you weren't as annoyed with him as you used to be. After rough missions, you even found yourself hugging him or cuddling up in bed. The people who knew your distaste in him from before teased you about how he got you wrapped around his finger. You wished they were wrong but they weren't. He did have you wrapped around his finger and upon realizing it, you were scared.

Being scared means running. At least that's what it meant to you. You didn't exactly avoid him. You couldn't even if you wanted to. No, you just didn't spend extra time with him. After missions, you would force yourself away from him. Away from some kind of comfort that only he could provide. Whiskey didn't say anything at first. Then a month passed and he noticed how distant you were. He couldn't help but wonder what it was that he did wrong. Your interactions before you distanced yourself were normal to your guys' standards. Hell, he was sure you were beginning to feel the same way for him as he felt for you since you first shown you weren't going to fall easily into his charms.

"Hey." It was a late Thursday evening when Whiskey caught you before leaving the building. You looked up at him confused but decided to stop and wait for him to come up to you. "Need a ride?"

"What?" You stared at him bewildered. Sure, there were times where you rode on the back on his motorcycle before but those were always for missions and not so much pleasure. Whiskey smiled shyly at you.

"I just-" He cleared his throat, looking away for a moment before making eye contact again.

"We haven't really spent time together lately so I thought, maybe, I could take you home..." He trailed off for a moment. "Maybe we could order take out?"

"Are you asking me out on a date?" You didn't mean to sound so aghast, you really didn't. He just surprised you. The cowboy never seemed to be the dating type. Hell, him being somewhat shy right now was positively nerve-racking. Whiskey shifted his feet before taking a breathe and giving you a panty dropping smile. "And if I am?"

You stood there for a moment, processing what was happening. There was absolutely no way... there was... Agent Jack Daniels was asking you of all people on a date like a school boy. It broke your heart and repaired it all in a handful of seconds. You didn't even notice that you were staring at him or crying until his rough palms held your cheeks so gently that you were positive you knew what this feeling you were so scared of was.

"Baby," he whispered. "Tell me what I did wrong. Tell me how to fix this." His voice was a desperate plead as hands moved behind your back and pulled you toward his chest. You just sobbed louder, clutching onto him for dear life. He nuzzled your hair with your nose, holding you firmly and making sure there were no wandering eyes to see you in your distressed position. He just knew you would hate for others to see you having a weak moment.

After a few moments where your sobs became softer, Whiskey placed a sweet kiss on your forehead before pulling away. "So sugar," you scoffed at the nickname making him chuckle. "Do I get to take you out?"

"On a date or with a sniper?" You smiled at him getting a loud laugh in response. Your heart clenched at the sound.

"I was hoping a date but if you preferred something else..." Whiskey smelled deviously at you causing an ache in your core. You coughed, looking around at the empty hall around you. "I'm just yanking your chain, baby. As much as I want to have you for dinner, I won't make you do anything you don't wanna."

Fuck, fuck, shit. Why did he make common sense and consent sound so sexy? When did he even cause arousal to spike through you? Maybe this was what you were always feeling towards him. Perhaps that annoyance was an act you held up in hopes of hiding how badly you wanted to save a horse. Didn't matter because you just finished having a mental breakdown over emotions for the same guy who was willing to fuck you even with tear stained cheeks.

You looked back at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards your face. Your lips barely an inch apart. A groan left his mouth as one hand tangled into the hair on the back of his neck, just pointing out of his hat. "Are you offering to fuck me?"

His hands found your hips, grip tight as he pulled your body into his. His dark eyes shifted behind your eyes, looking for any signs of distress or teasing before leaning towards your ear and whispering, "I was thinking more along the lines of making love..." Your breath hitched. "But if you want me to pound that pretty pussy of yours, all you got to do is ask."

He pulled your ear lobe between his teeth gently before ghosting his nose along your cheek and hovering his lips just above yours. Without thought, you pushed your lips into his roughy. He reciprocated instantly, devouring your lips with no regard for the clanking of teeth. One of his hands trailed up your back and grabbing you at the base of your neck, tilting your head exactly how he wanted so he could tear you apart with his mouth.

You couldn't help the moan that left you as you tried to grind up against him. Whiskey just abruptly pulled away from you, ignoring your whine but smiling at how you chased after his lips.

"As much as I always wanted to fuck you on my desk, I think I would rather see how beautiful you look on my bed." He grabbed your hand before walking to the elevator. He didn't yank or drag you and his grip was firm but loose enough for you to pull away from if you wanted. Despite his filthy words and filthier kissing, he was still being respectful to you. Shit, if that didn't make your pussy throb even harder and your heart proud against your ribs.

Climbing onto his motorcycle was second nature, securing your arms around his waist after strapping on the helmet was a common occurrence. However this time it felt different. Like you were setting something in stone that you weren't really sure of what it was but knew was good.

The ride to his apartment was quick. Probably quicker than it should've been with your hand palming him through his jeans but you weren't going to get into it with him about driving safety. At least not now as he climbs off his bike and quite literally throws your over his shoulder. A laugh tore through you as he stomped his way into his apartment building and the elevator leading up to his floor.

"Oh you thought that little game of yours was cute, baby girl?" His voice a rough growl. "Playing with my cock like that when I'm trying to focus on the road."

"Only a little bit," you snickered at him. In response, he swatted your ass making you moan involuntarily. His grip tightened around your thighs.

"Well I be damned sugar," he ran his hand over where he just smacked, soothing it. "I never would've thought you were so damn dirty but I might've gotten real lucky with you."

Your nails dug into his back when he said that and the cocky bastard chuckled. He caught you with your pants down so might as well try to get the high ground again. "Sir," you whined while wiggling your hips. His breath caught in his throat, obviously thinking you weren't going to play along. "I'll be your good girl."

As soon as the elevator opened, he hauled ass to his apartment, particularly ripping the doorknob off trying to rush inside. Jack didn't even bother setting you down. He just headed straight to his bedroom where he tossed you onto his large mattress where you bounced from the force of it.

You looked up at him with a doe like expression, watching him breath heavily and finally being able to take note of the large bulge formed in his jeans. Jack grabbed your ankles, pulling you so your ass was hanging off the bed and he was the only reason why you didn't fall.

"You going to be a good girl for me?" His hand squished your cheeks and you nodded. His gaze softened for a moment. "You'll tell me when to stop or slow down?"

"Yes sir," you responded back to him as clear as your lust hazed mind would allow you. He nodded before shoving your shirt over your head and yanking your pants off, leaving you in your underwear. You couldn't help but feel self conscious under his appraising gaze. This morning you didn't exactly put on your 'fuck me' underwear. It's not like you knew you were going to end up sleeping with your mentor today though you probably should've. Being a Statesman did mean being prepared for any outcome.

"So fucking pretty," he mumbled more to himself than you. His large hand roamed over your stomach and thighs before his eyes made his way back toward your face. "I really am the luckiest man." "Jack," you whined, pushing your hips up towards his causing him to swat your thigh.

"Wrong name, pretty girl." His fingers found their way to the hem of your underwear.

"S-sir," you corrected yourself. He hummed, pushing his hand down until his fingers found your soaked core. He groaned as he swiped his fingers through your folds making your whimper before he pulled his hand out and popped his fingers in his mouth while holding eye contact with you. The moan he let out was downright sinful.

"Sweeter than sugar and damn near the best thing I've ever tasted." He grabbed the hem of your panties, waiting for your signal. You nodded and he quickly yanked them down your legs before dropping to his knees. He had just barely thrown your legs over his shoulders before he enveloped your heat with his mouth making you arch up into him. "Take off your bra, let me see you play with those beautiful tits."

You instantly followed his orders, throwing the bra somewhere in the room and tweaking your hardened nipples as he tongue flicked at your clit. You cried out as he pulled your closer to his face as he began to roll your sensitive nub around before sucking harshly. There was no way to focus on anything other than the pleasure he was bringing you so you dropped your hands into his hair and pulling on it making him stand up and away from you.

"I don't remember telling you to do that." "I'm sorry, I'm-" You didn't get to finish your half assed apology before Jack hauled you onto the bed and rolled you onto your stomach.

"Hands and knees." You scrambled up instantly. "Since you wanted to act like a little whore, I'll fuck you like one." Behind you, you could hear the clanking of him unbuckling his belt. You couldn't help pushing your hips back towards him making his swat your ass. "Needy little slut."

You had just barely felt the brush of him against your entrance before he was pushing in, stretching you out against his impressive length. He paused half way through, letting you adjust to him. Once he felt your walls relax around him, he quickly thrusted the rest of himself inside making you cry out. You both groaned at him finally filling you to the hilt.

A second passed before he started to languidly thrust. Your head dropped between your shoulders as his cock hit every crevice inside you. Now you knew he had a reason to be so damn arrogant sometimes.

He yanked your head up by your hair. "Pay attention, baby girl." His thrusts turned harsh and fast suddenly. "Because I'm not going to fucking repeat myself." You could barely focus on anything other than stroking of him inside. "You. Are. Mine." He thrusted in time with his words. "No one else gets to feel this tight little pussy of yours. No one else gets to hear this sounds and no one else gets to have your heart."

Your hips moved back into his his, trying to reach that high that you just knew was going to absolutely destroy you. When you didn't respond, he pulled you up by your neck. He held you up against his chest by your throat, not choking you, just holding you there.

"Answer me," he hissed out between his teeth was your cunt clenched around him. You brought your hand up to his, pushing it more against you, trying to encourage him to choke.

"Yours," you breathed out. "Yours, o-only yours." He gave your neck a test squeeze and sure enough, you began thrusting back towards him faster. "Only gonna love you, only you, fuck." You were getting so damn close. Hell, you didn't even notice what you just said but he did.

All the air in his lungs left him. He pulled out, ignoring your whine before pushing you onto your back and covering your body with his. Jack greedily attached his lips to yours as he pushed back into you and resumed pounding your pussy. With one arm holding him up beside your head, the other found it's way between your legs where he rubbed circles against your clit making you finally teeter over the edge.

You screamed out his name against his lips and he fucked you through your orgasm. His fingers didn't stop rubbing your clit under your pushed them away but he didn't stop his harsh thrusts. He just moved that arm parallel to the other one as he pushed himself closer towards his release.

"Where?" He groaned out, thrusts turning sloppier and harder.

"Inside." He loudly inhaled before dropping his head into your neck and leaving multiple kisses and bites between praises of "such a good girl" and "made just for me" along other things muffled against your skin.

His nose pressed into your pulse as he throbbed inside of you, feeling you with his seed. A drawn out moan fell from his lips along with a chant of your name. He rocked inside you for a bit before staying still and kissing you gently.

Now that the lust had been satisfied, he was able to hold you under him and show you exactly how he felt. He pulled his lips away from yours and brushed hair out of your face. You gazed up at him with tired but loving eyes. Jack couldn't help but smile at you and places kisses whether he could reach. Mouth, nose, forehead, cheeks.

"I don't know what made you cry earlier," he started, lips pressed against your cheek. "But I promise, baby girl, that I'll do my best by you."

"I know, Jack," you fingers massaging his scalp. "And I promise to be my best for you as well."

He pulled away to hover over you, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Does this mean I get to bang you on my desk?" You laughed at him, making you both temporarily hiss when you squeezed around his softened cock inside you. "One day but for now, let's cuddle."

"Anything for you." He pulled out of you , rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him. His heart beat was steady against your ear and clearer than anything had been in your life.

Agent Jack Daniels was an annoying son of a bitch. Since you met for the first time, he had gotten on your last nerve but somehow he ended up wiggling his way into your heart. Even more bizarre, you were in his as well. So maybe your professor allowing you to work under him was a good idea after all. Agent Whiskey was one of the best in the field to learn from and now you knew for a fact that he was going to be the best to take care of your damaged heart. You could only hope to be able to cherish his properly in return.