#difficulty: yeah... nobody has figured out where is it yet

[vrok2401]

Astral Observer

[destinygoldenstar]

🌟It's A Musical! With Lights, Autotuned Singing, Slandering Yul, And Jake Getting Cucked 🌟 - Total Drama Viewer Reacts to Disventure Camp Season 3 Episode 6 “Strike A Chord”

I was gonna do this yesterday, but then something... pretty harsh came up.

I will say this: I'm probably going to have to slow down the pace I'm getting these reactions out.

This has NOTHING to do with the show itself! I'm enjoying it so far. My reasonings don't have anything to do with the show doing something that hurt me.

It's just because these reactions take about 2-3 hours to make. And it has resulted in me being up WAY too late at night for my own health. And it's getting to me.

There's also some... pretty disturbing events happening in my personal life. I'm not going to get in depth about it here. Because it's... it's VERY sensitive and triggering to talk about.

For the sake of this and for the sake of my own health, I need to take care of it first and foremost.

Again, THE SHOW DID NOT DO ANYTHING WRONG. THIS IS PURELY LIFE CIRCUMSTANCES.

But, ya know, I want to at least get one more in. Enjoy this reaction.

"Man, is this girl smart or just plain evil? Probably both."

XD

OH MY GOD THAT IS...

THAT IS SO ACCURATE.

"I can do so much more than just vote for Yul. For my next showing, I will silently pull the strings of our little Jello Alliance to dominate the game. And if they ever get an opportunity to counter us with an idol, I will make sure it's Yul! OHOHOHOHO!"

NO RIYA YOU NEED EVERYONE EVEN IF YUL SUCKS.

ALSO THAT'S A BRITISH EVIL LAUGH I DID, GODDAMMIT!!!!

I'm not very good with the Indian accent yet...

ANYWAY THERE'S OLIVER GETTING THROWN OUT OF A PLANE!

*Gets Grammarly Ad*

*Mouse Stops Working*

What the fuck?

Hello?

I WOULD LIKE TO SKIP THE AD PLEASE

IS-

IS MY MOUSE FUCKED AGAIN?!?!?!

I DON'T WANT TO WATCH THE ENTIRE AD! FUCK GRAMMARLY!!!

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH MY MOUSE?!?!

*Tech difficulties*

That took me awhile to fix.

My mouse has been acting up like that where it just stops working.

What a way to start the episode XD

Oh yeah we left off with this.

Is this lady associated with Yul?

Cause if yes, I don't like you.

"If I wake up tomorrow with those disgusting eyes, it'll be your ass!"

Good.

I hope you suffer.

"Your manager called me."

"Asking for a raise again?"

Ah, I see you are a factor in our generation's financial problems.

"I'm guessing you're not very bright, so let me explain this slowly."

XD

The way she said that.

"Yes, awen't you a wittle baby? You can't possibly figure this out."

"Audience favorability for you has been going down."

That implied Yul had any fans to begin with.

Which that idea alone kinda pisses me off cause who the hell is genuinely rooting for this guy?

You like Yul I don't like you. /j

"All that work he put into you and Grett..."

Ah so it WAS for money!

I HAD A FEELING YOU WERE STILL A BITCH.

He doesn't love her. He just wants to use her to make himself look better.

What a pig.

"How is this my fault? Have you seen Winnie The Pooh?"

Did-did you just compare MY GRETT TO FUCKING WINNIE THE POOH?!

"Do you know how hard it is to pretend you like that clingy piggy 24 hours a day?"

YOU'RE A PIG.

Let me see, what's the ugliest pig image I can find on Google??

Shit they're all cute... (Me raising an eyebrow at my own implication I find pigs cute)

Here we go.

THIS IS YOU, YUL.

I KNOW THE TRUTH.

I KNOW WHAT YOU REALLY ARE.

"You want to have a career after this, don't ya?"

Pigs have jobs? Since when?

"UGH! FUCK MY LIFE!"

"AWWWW DAMMIT! I HAVE TO BE A NICE PERSON? LIFE IS SO HARD!!!!"

Fuck you too.

How about we make a campaign?

This post gets approximately ten million notes, and I will invest my savings into developing the technology needed to jump through the screen, enter the world of Disventure Camp, and publicly execute Yul Kim.

Then I will livestream his funeral. Nobody is going to be devastated, in fact, they will fully support me. We will celebrate with a dinner that is the leftover pork from Yul's body. Because if you look deep into his soul, you will find a pig.

Will I be ten million in debt? Sure. Will I probably be trapped as a Disventure Camp character forever? Sure. (Like Digital Circus.) But it's a sacrifice I am willing to make.

(THIS IS A JOKE. I AM NOT ACTUALLY GOING TO DO THAT.)

"Wanna take a walk with me? I could use some girl time!"

Aww! Taking her in! I like that!

"You good to go fishing without me, Jake?"

Yeah Jake be the man of the camp. Especially since we got rid of all the other boys XD

Yeah maybe we shouldn't have eliminated all the strong men on the team FIRST?

Well not entirely. Ashley's pretty good in that department.

"Hey Jake, if you need someone else, I'm open."

Can Fiore fish? Is she strong enough to do that?

"I guess you'd make decent bait for the smaller fish."

WHAT?!

YOU WANT TO GET HER EATEN BY FISH?!

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?!

If Hunter was still here, he'd be like "Great idea Jake! Alright Fiore, let's get you attached to the hook!"

"As much as I don't trust Fiore... if Hunter got to the merge with Ally and Tess, they could've taken over this game."

I was told that there was a lot of backlash for he Hunter blindside when this episode came out. So the writers had to explain it.

Is THIS supposed to be that explanation?

I mean, they're not WRONG here, but I think they explained it fine in Episode 5.

Fiore is a complete outcast, but if you get rid of her now, you're forcing yourself in a tie with a couple and you can't guarantee your own safety with that.

That makes sense to me.

"Let me guess, missing Hunter?"

"You know, shockingly... no."

I'm sorry, what?

THAT'S YOUR BOYFRIEND. WHY ARE YOU FINE WITH HIM BEING OUT OF YOUR SIGHT?!

"I wish I got to talk it out with him."

You wish you could patch things up, but you DON'T want him here...?

...okay???

"Honestly, I don't think we could've worked things out while we were still in the game."

I mean, yeah, okay. I get that.

It's a toxic environment.

But it sounded like you weren't working anything out at home either, so screw me for not getting it I guess. I'm a bitch.

"I know I'm next to go."

What makes you think that?

FIORE IS STILL HERE.

Like, of course that's not what's gonna happen!

"Remember Ally, it's not over till the rooster crows!"

Ooh okay!

I like Ashley befriending both her teammates! I like this!

Oh my god...

What the fuck did we just cut to?

HEY. DON'T BUG A WOMAN WHEN SHE'S SHOWERING.

"For my next showing, I will steal all the hot water as revenge for you spying on me while I'm naked in the shower!"

NO RIYA THEY CAN GET SICK FROM THAT!

"If Tipiskaw is suddenly in a drought this year, we know what caused it."

I get that's sarcasm, but dude, you're in the woods. There's lakes. There's rivers. You live on a beach.

"I won us this shower, so I can take as long as I want!"

As she should.

"There better still be hot water in there."

"Duh! I was just in there! Of course it's hot."

XD

QUEEN. 👑

Also was that supposed to be a flirt?

"I want to apologize for how I spoke to you in the previous challenge."

Yeah, well, we know for context you don't mean shit.

WAIT HOLD ON.

IS HE WEARING EARPLUGS?!?!

Oh my fucking god.

Being nice is so damaging to him that he physically cannot stand hearing such language. He has to plug his ears whenever he is nice because he will go deaf if he hears it.

...the lore man, I tell you. The things you learn about a character.

Let me just uh... take a plug off and...

"HEY YUL! I LOVE YOU!! I THINK YOU ARE THE BEST CHARACTER EVER!!! YOU ARE SO KIND AND SWEET AND CONSIDERATE AND THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH YOU WHATSOEVER!!! CAN I GIVE YOU A HUG?"

Let's see what that does to him.

"As an ally to women everywhere,"

*snicker*

Hey, I'm a woman. Watch it.

"You really did hurt me, you know."

"I know, angel. I wish I could take it back."

Break up with him Grett.

Just break up with him.

I CAN GIVE YOU SO MUCH MORE THAN HE CAN!

"I can deal with some stupid, faceless fans online calling me fat, but you're my boyfriend!"

Well she and Allyson should interact then.

"You're supposed to support me, and all you want is for me to change... just like everyone else."

Awww 😢

Honey, no....

Oh.

Oh no it's an ear BUD. Whoops.

Well now I feel stupid.

And here I thought we were giving Yul some depth.

"Do you really mean that? You've never said anything this sweet before."

Yeah she's suspicious. She isn't stupid.

"You are so strong and brave, and you shouldn't change for anyone but yourself."

Took the words right out of my mouth.

How dare you.

"Between you and I, I... never really thought of myself in that way."

Awwwww.

You deserve so much better.

That also makes sense too given her past...

"Now kiss her."

"Now kiss her."

😆

*covers mouth*

NO.

NO.

FUCK NO.

NOOOOO!!!!!

NO MY REP IS RUINED!!! NOO!!!!

NOT A YUL JOKE ACTUALLY MAKING ME LAUGH!!!!

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

I hate this bitch with as much passion as the fire on his shirt.

"You seen Derek? He's been gone all morning."

"Oh. He went out to breakfast with Krystal."

"Just the two of them?"

"Yeah, they've been getting along recently."

Ooh?

Krystal X Derek...

Strangely, I think I actually ship that. That can work.

"Oh..."

"Why? Jealous?"

Oh?

Love triangle?

Trevor's also in love with Krystal?

Oh god not another love triangle...

*Proceeds to spiral into Total Drama-related PTSD*

Both Intern Boys are in love with the same girl. Who is their boss.

OH. GOD.

Aw, Gabby with the apple!

Is that the chicken? That looks like the exact same meat as the fish from a couple episodes ago.

"So Tom, how have things been on the police force?"

"Oh busy as hell, but I love it!"

Aw yay we get more context on this!

His life has turned around for the better!

"Plus, I get all the donuts a man could ask for!"

Hey, that's a bonus. Donuts are good.

"What a dream, huh? Making a living off doing what you love."

"Tell me about it."

Oh...

Yeah I hope that wasn't directed as an Ellie roast. Cause she deserves a lot of things, but not that.

"I gotta thank you again, Gabby. You're the reason I even got the job, after all."

I'm still calling BS on the fact that Tom became a cop but not Gabby. Even though Gabby arguably did more of the work than he did.

That is some serious misogyny in that police force, let me tell ya.

LET GABBY BE A COP!

"Write off my speeding tickets and we'll call it even."

Okay maybe it's not a good idea.

I'm a fake Gabby stan. I forgot she's a delinquent.

"Hey now! I promised my commissioner if I won, I'd donate half the prize to inner city schools in my community."

OH THAT'S PRECIOUS! OH MY GOSH?! ❤️

TOM IS A BETTER PERSON?!

I mean, you know, except for that ONE THING.

But you know, a healthier lifestyle can get you a healthier mindset and you can live more authentically.

Which seems like that's what Tom is doing. He's more open.

"That's... actually really generous of you."

"Oh, uh... thanks Ellie."

TOM AND ELLIE GETTING ALONG?

HOLD UP. NOT CLICKBAIT?!

"I love this happy family!"

You deserve the world, Gabby!!🤗

"It's the calm before the storm over here."

Okay, wow, mood killer!

Tess is like "Yeah this is nice, but everything leads to misery and pain. And this was before the murders happened."

"We're relaxed, but I know we're all secretly thinking who's going to blow this up and draw first blood."

Exactly.

"And then the murders began."

"Is Krystal having a stroke?"

I would laugh, but I had water in my mouth so that'd be bad.

"Hope you guys got your stories on the west side cause it's musical time!"

Uuuuuuuuuuhhhh...

...what?

WHAT THE HELL ARE MUSICALS?

(If anyone understood that reference, you say so when you're replying. I don't make the rules.)

"Each team has to write and perform a song on this stage!"

Oh this is gonna be hell to my ears, probably.

Can't be worse than Emilia Perez though (HOW THE FUCK DID THIS GET THIRTEEN OSCAR NOMIATIONS?!).

"It's gonna be a Hamil-TON of fun!"

I'm pretty sure Jake's last name is Hamilton, so...

"I feel very targeted."

"You know? I worked really hard on those puns. Oliver would laugh."

Oliver likes puns? That's kinda cute.

"Now for a quick demo! Hit it!"

OH NO.

🎵"Locks eyes with you as I try to be"🎵

Oh?

He's actually a good singer?!

I did not know this about Silly Billy.

I wouldn't know anyway, I haven't seen any of his content in years. And I've kinda just been dodging them because of potential Disventure Camp spoilers.

🎵"Wasn't looking for love now you're all I see"🎵

Is he trying to impress Krystal?

Oh my god we're actually doing this love triangle.

Oh god what are you doing?

You lost me.

You completely lost me. XD

"Jesus man! Karaoke mic's closed, Trevor. What's the matter with you?"

I mean that song was very suggestive. But the singing was fine.

Don't do him like that.

"You're testing my eardrums, and I'm about to *QUACK* myself."

😨

I AM NOT REPEATING THAT.

I AM NOT TYPING THAT FOR THIS REACTION.

NO. I AM CENSORING THAT.

Now I'm questioning how this episode got past YouTube guidelines.

Intermission already?! We're only ten minutes in!

And why is it in spanish?

Pretty sure I'm watching the English Version.

This is gonna be a LONG reaction.

"Is anyone here musically gifted?"

Say no more.

"For my next showing, I will dominate the stage with my musical gift! All lights will be on me as I mesmerize the stage! And the rest of you can be techies."

NO RIYA THIS IS A TEAM EFFORT. YOU CAN'T BE THE STAR.

"Um, your boyfriend's literally a K-Pop Star."

You don't count.

"Yul can lead us!"

"Lead this sad lot?"

Yeah, welp, I don't know why we invited him to be a Jello.

He is kind of a detriment to our success.

"I dabbled in poetry writing. Guess this isn't too different."

Ooh, okay.

This team is actually gonna have this in the bag.

"As the only experienced actor who's been on professional movie sets, I'll be our wardrobe and set designer."

Ooh okay! Not what I had in mind for her, but sure.

Ngl, I was expecting her to boss everyone around and make them do things her way. But she's actually working with these people.

"I have a secret talent in fashion. It'll come in handy for this next showing. I know how to make even the ugliest of things look good."

No, Riya, it's not really a secret.

"Uh, how does acting qualify you to handle equipment?"

You'd be surprised, actually.

OKAY. CHILL.

Her face though XD

I mean look at it this way, who else is going to have any exposure to this to understand it?

Better her than nothing.

"I refuse to sing!"

Welp, Pink Team loses.

"This wasn't in our contracts!"

Tell that to the Total Drama cast when they were filming World Tour.

"Jake, Ally, do you think you guys can lead?"

Ooh, okay.

Jake and Allyson bonding time.

"Those shower solos hopefully amounted to something."

Yeah that's what they all say.

"My grandpa always told me I had the vocals!"

Yes!

I can't wait for this, actually.

I wanted these two characters to interact since the beginning. Especially since they have similar backstories regarding their grandparents.

"Do you sing Aiden?"

"I was a big musical theater kid in high school!"

Oh, really?

Oh I LOVE that for him!

Aiden is a musical theater kid?

I'm loving you so much more now.

Not that I ever disliked him in the past.

"How come I never knew this about you?"

I mean he never mentioned this before, and you weren't on the same team. So...

"Are you still pursuing acting?"

"Before the show, I was. But after, I had a hard time getting auditions."

Yeah... it's hard.

Especially for a trans actor. It's very difficult.

"Can I write the song? Please please please? I have such pain and anguish in my soul to express through the music..."

OKAY.

...that's also me when I'm writing.

We have something in common. XD

"Delirious?"

What's that?

*looks it up*

Oh okay.

Oh this is so cute. I love that they're talking and getting along.

"I just keep thinking about Tom while writing the lyrics."

Oh?

What song are they writing?

Are they writing a Taylor Swift song?

"Isn't that... weird?"

"Not at all. I feel like these words I've written reflect Hunter a lot."

Oh my god, they are writing a Taylor Swift song.

"We're a bunch of hopeless lovesick romantics aren't we?"

Yeah, pretty much.

What is this pose he's doing?

Okay Drama King.

"You think Riya was mad at me?"

No shit.

"She's gotten so much worse since we separated..."

Considering she's hanging out with THESE JELLOS.

I'm not surprised.

Be careful who you're friends with.

"Maybe we can write a song about her, and I can sing it and show her how I feel."

How about no?

Dude. This is a team effort.

"Remember how you both agreed to stay apart?"

Yeah. She made that very clear.

"I just... can't stop thinking about her."

This is not a good episode for me to be watching.

I'm going through those things right now too, actually.

I should not be watching this.

"Just relax. The initial split-up hurts, but... you'll grow numb to it over time."

Why is Alec such a good friend?

Like, seriously, why are Alec and Connor genuinely good friends with good chemistry?

This is not something I expected.

"Your wife and Riya aren't the same person."

"Ex-wife."

Yeah, be careful with your words.

"She's chosen her path. It's time you choose yours."

GOOD LESSON.

"You an Alt Rock fan?"

Ooh.

Alec into ALT ROCK?! WHAT?!

Why does that so strangely work?

"It's a love song!"

Ooh!

"Us lovely ladies even choreographed it!"

As a lesbian: LESBIAN W.

"We wanted to have two couples synchronized on stage."

Oh, two? I thought it'd just be Gabby and Ellie.

So Aiden and Tess, then, if that works at all? It's acting, so...

So then...

*processes*

Oh shit.

"Gabby and Ellie will be one couple, and you two will form the other."

Oh shit.

I forgot EVERYONE on this team is queer XD

"And at the end, both couples share a long, passionate kiss to finish the song!"

OH GOD FUCKING DAMMIT XD.

OH NO XD.

OH THIS IS GONNA BE SO BAD XD.

"Awwww.... wait what?!"

My exact reaction.

"I don't know if I can do that, I... I have a boyfriend!"

"Uh, yeah, and I have... uh... you heard Aiden! Man's got a man!"

*eyebrow raise*

I was kinda worried Tom was gonna say he had a boyfriend too for a second.

Oh that'd be heartbreaking if that was what was going on.

"After LAST TIME, I really don't want to lose this boyfriend, so I kinda don't want to drag him into reality TV, you know? Especially towards my ex who is also here..."

"It's not cheating if you have shoes on."

Blame the script.

"Uh... I haven't gotten a chance to talk to Jake yet. This kiss could complicate things even more with Jake."

Yeah. For sure.

Why don't you go to their camp and clear things up right now?

"I suggested the idea of the kiss but the reasoning we just made up. This might be evil, but I can't pass up the opportunity to see Jake lose his mind again."

WHAT THE FUCK ELLIE?!

I didn't think she would just straight up ADMIT THAT!

She actively wants to cuck Jake. This is not clickbait.

She just wants him to suffer.

"And we will eat his remains for dinner afterwards."

"Hey, with no TV out here, it's the next best thing."

Oh so she just admitted she does all the public humiliation, sabotage, and death threats ON PURPOSE.

I am SERIOUSLY CONCERNED for Jake's mental health.

LEAVE HIM ALONE, ELLIE!!

"I don't like her. She reminds me of my sister."

You have sisters? I'm concerned.

I don't think anyone buys that ventriloquist act anymore. Everyone knows the doll is a demon.

Oh my god XD

THE ANIMALS ARE THE AUDIENCE XD

Half of them look like they want their money back.

"You have to teach me your ways, Krystal!"

"Maybe if you behave, I'll think about it."

Oh yes mommy...

I'm sorry.

OOOOHH

OH THIS IS SO CUTE!!

OH MY GOD! AND TESS WITH THE GUITAR? AWWWW!!!

🎵"Sometimes life goes easy-"🎵

Oh wow they're actually good singers!

Aiden was not lying, he's standing out already.

Tess is just vibing.

🎵"Sometimes minds go crazy-"🎵

Oh... ugh...

They can't all be good.

Are the GIRLS the lower music pitch? That's interesting.

🎵"Piggy piggy back won't you take me piggy back?" 🎵

*swaying along and vibing it*

*vibe has been killed*

Oh...

🎵"Cause all I want is you"🎵

🎵"All I want is you"🎵

Okay that was a lot better.

Awwww ❤️

They're really cute together.

Can this just be the Gabellie song?

*Vibing again*

So cute... 😄

🎵"Piggy piggy back won't you piggy me back won't you"🎵

Awwwwww 😊

*raises hands to clap*

*puts hands down*

...

... ... ...

... ... ...

Can we appreciate Gabby and Ellie in the background?

That's sweet. That's so wholesome. That is so cute. What a cute song.

What a cute couple.

Look at them front and center and shining in how cute they are.

Anyway that's the end of the episode, I hope you guys enjoyed this reaction! I'll be back never!😄🤪

WHAT THE EVERLOVING FUCK?!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Also what is Ashley wearing? That is ugly.

BUT MOSTLY NOOOOOO!!!

NOT JAKE GETTING CUCKED!

NOT JAKE GETTING CUCKED!!!!😭

This man has been permanently scarred. Ever since the piggyback accident, he has not been the same.

This guy's about go FUCKING LIVID.

"I felt weird about kissing Tom... but I know James will be chill."

Yeah I imagine he would be.

"Anyone could tell it was just for the challenge."

Cut to Jake,

"THAT SON OF BITCH IM GONNA FUCKING MURDER HIM!!!! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU ALL!!!!"

No they actually do cut to him! NO! XD

His outfit looks SO GOOD THOUGH, but I can't admire it right now.

"Did you see that?"

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Jake."

"UM, THE CHICKEN METAPHOR IS SALT TO THE WOUND! I JUST GOT CUCKED ON NATIONAL TV!!!!"

"All I've been doing is trying to talk later to him. He doesn't want to talk! He just keeps avoiding me but OH he's cool with kissing Aiden in front of me?!"

Yeah that's shitty of Tom.

Why the fuck are you not talking to him?!

How hard is it to say, "Hey Jake, I moved on. I don't want you in my life anymore. I have a new relationship now. No it's not with Aiden. Thank you. Best of luck to you. Goodbye."

Especially if you want nothing to do with him.

THAT'S NOT HARD!

"I know this is a bad time, but use this anger in our song."

Especially if it's a Taylor Swift song.

🎵"WE ARE NEVER EVER EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER"🎵

🎵"WE ARE NEVER EVER EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER"🎵

🎵"YOU GO TALK TO YOUR FRIENDS TALK TO MY FRIENDS TALK TO ME"🎵

🎵"BUT WE ARE NEVER EVER EVER GETTING BACK TOGETHER"🎵

That song is actually kinda perfect for this.

Ooh, the plucking.

XD

The guy and the puppet XD

Surprised they allowed this.

OOH SHE LOOKS SO GOOD!!!!

🎵"So let me tell you all the things I really hate about you"🎵

Oh god XD

This is a SLANDER SONG.

🎵"You call me when you need me then you drop me like yesterday's news"🎵

Okay Jake's VA is autotuned.

They probably all are, but that was so obviously autotuned XD

Allyson is GOOD though.

🎵"You got me so delirious but I just can't seem to get enough"🎵

YUUUSSS!!!

COOK EM!!!

COOK EM!!!!

🎵"My friends said I should give you up, but nothing's simple when it comes to us"🎵

Aww :(

That was just PERSONAL.

🎵"Cause you're born to drive me crazy"🎵

YEEEEEEESSS!!!!👏

GO OFF!!! GO OFFF!!!!!👏

😆👏

OKAY THAT WAS SO GOOD! HOLY SHIT?!

I thought this music was gonna be shit, but that's FIRE! 🔥

I also love how in context that was literally just Allyson and Jake VENTING.

"OUR BOYFRIENDS ARE ASSHOLES! HERE'S THEIR SONG!"

"Is it just me, or was Jake shooting daggers while he was singing?"

Yes. Yes he was.

"I'M AFTER YOUR CAMP ONCE THIS IS OVER!!"

Like no shit, you guys just cucked him in front of everyone. ON NATIONAL TV as well.

"You think he was looking at me?"

Oh...

Is this gonna make Tom want to talk?

"I think I screwed up..."

GIRL, WHAT THE HELL IS THAT OUTFIT?!

NO RIYA! YOU HAVE GREAT FASHION SENSE, WHY WOULD YOU RUIN IT!?! THAT'S SO UGLY!

"This is quite a lot of lights."

"We are going to SHINE! Trust me!"

"I don't want the light to catch my bad side."

Girl, that implies there's a bad side to you.

"You people are impossible to please."

She's just been putting up with demands all day.

"A little to the left-"

"No, up more."

"Put another light here. It casts a shadow."

"Now to the right-"

"OH MY GOD STOP IT! FOR MY NEXT SHOWING EVERYONE WILL GET COOKED WITH LIGHTS!"

NO RIYA THEY'LL GO BLIND!

🎵"Hear the engine roar and I'm out of the door live the high life I've been waiting for" 🎵

I'M GLAD I HAVE SUBTITLES ON CAUSE I CAN'T UNDERSTAND A WORD SHE'S SAYING.

🎵"Got no home and got no name changing my view again and again"🎵

Okay Alec is good!

And that mohawk is kinda fire!

Why are there so many oohs in this one? I'm getting MLP flashbacks.

MLP but rock.

🎵"Living the moment till I die" 🎵

OKAY CONNOR WITH THE LOW NOTE

Oh my god...

YUL DOES NOT DESERVE TO BE PAIRED UP WITH BEST GIRL, BUT HERE WE ARE!

ALSO YUL IS SPEAK SINGING. GET HIM OUTTA HERE!

Oh shit it's gonna fail.

🎵"Fire in my veins I fight to gain breaking the rules just to keep me sane"🎵

Go off while you can though queen!

YUL IS SPEAK SINGING.

I hope the light crashes on Yul.

AIN'T NO WAY!

AIN'T NO WAY I PREDICTED THAT WOULD HAPPEN!

"I did that on purpose. That was the climax of this showing I had planned all along!"

NO RIYA YOUR TEAM IS GONNA LOSE NOW!

"Yeah, I don't think we need to vote for a losing team."

OH THEY'RE PISSED.

Rightfully though.

"Yellow Team, you got one hour to figure out who you're sending home."

Oh shit...

It's gonna be Riya, isn't it? Dammit...

"They will have to help Trevor clean up this mess!"

What about Derek?

"Me? Why just me? What about Derek?"

Yeah exactly.

"Okay, okay, maybe I overestimated my abilities a little..."

Oh wow! She ADMITS her faults.

Yeah, girl, you are NOT invincible.

Your alliance will remember this.

That is if you don't go home here.

"...but I'm not worried. I have the villain alliance with Alec, Grett, and Yul."

I guess? But you also cost the challenge.

Idk, if we're talking Total Drama, she's gone. Cost your team the win and you're GONE.

THE HAIR FLIP THOUGH?! SLAY?!

"Time to make that old man pay for voting for me!"

Oh shit.

Damn. You know what the sad part is? I was actually starting to like Connor a bit more this season.

I guess he really is just a tool for Riya's development, huh?

In both seasons.

"We can't lose anymore after this! It's just us four alliance members at that point!"

Interesting how she isn't joining in on the Connor slander and choosing to speak facts instead.

Very interesting character choice there.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to put some ice on my foot because someone was a professional actress!"

"Let me know if you want another one. I'll be here all game."

"You seriously want to vote off Connor?"

"Honestly, I'd rather it be Yul."

ME TOO.

Also, very interesting that she admits that.

"I don't want to, but it has to be done."

"I trust Connor, but is it worth breaking the villains alliance just to save him?"

Exactly.

"We're taking out Yul. He's been a pain in the ass since day one."

I wish she wasn't lying.

"It would be fun to see him have to clean up the debris from the stage."

"For the next showing maybe we can sabotage that too and drop another light on his foot."

NO RIYA YOU'LL GET IN EVEN MORE TROUBLE!

"The question is, would she be willing to sacrifice them to save me?"

No.

The answer is gonna be no.

This is painfully obvious, right? We already know it's unaminous.

Yeah, exactly.

'CONNOR'

Yul, then everything else is Connor.

'YUL'

'CONNOR'

Yeah.

They don't even need to read the last vote.

"Can't say I'm shocked."

No one is.

"Awww, is the old man gonna cry?!"

Shut up.

"Come on. I'll walk you out."

Aw, that's actually kinda nice of her.

"No thanks. I'm good."

Oh. Okay, he's mad.

"Oh come on. Are you going to be bitter?"

"I came clean about my intentions to you."

"It's just game! Even if we're no longer together, we can still be friends."

Aw, she still wants him around.

"You know what Riya? How about you take your little pity speech and cram it?"

"You're making a scene. We can talk about this later when you calm down."

"I don't think you're quite hearing me. We're done talking. I can't believe I ever saw something in you!"

💔

Deserved.

Still hurts.

"Have fun with this path you've chosen I guess."

OOOOOOFFFF.

That is gonna sting the rest of her stay here.

"This was the best thing for Connor. He can't be around Riya."

So true.

"Today, I lost a genuine friend..."

Yeah. I liked their friendship.

Damn.

I will say this, AS A RIYA STAN.

SHE TOTALLY DESERVED THAT CALL OUT.

I'm not gonna defend her one bit. She's a bad person. She's a toxic person. She treated Connor pretty poorly.

DESERVED. GOOD FOR CONNOR FOR STANDING UP FOR HIMSELF AT THE END.

Riya's only friends now are the Jello alliance, and it's just that. An alliance. When she gets eliminated, they're gonna not care about her anymore. That'll be it. She'd have lost everything.

I do think she's gonna last till merge though, cause she and Alec are the two most relevant players in this alliance.

They really did just bring Connor back for Riya's development, huh? No other reason at all.

You bring this man back but not Rosa? Really?

And honestly, I think the Jello Team would have lost the challenge even if they didn't set the stage on fire. That was... that wasn't a very good song. I could barely hear their vocals over the instruments.

The other two were really good though! I'm shocked! I didn't think I was gonna like this challenge at all. I was pleasantly surprised.

You know, except for Jake getting cucked.

I really want to study Riya's character after this season. (And Jake) Because I'm finding some of the dialogue and choices with her very interesting. Especially considering what we know about her.

Again, I'm probably gonna have to cut back a bit from my speed. This episode reaction took FIVE HOURS to make. I am going to be sleeping all day tomorrow.

But hey, at least Yul got to suffer. That's always a win.

[phawareglobal]

Kathy Downey - phaware® interview 492

Canadian patient, Kathy Downey, recounts her four-and-a-half-year journey with pulmonary hypertension (PH). Kathy shares the challenges of living with the condition, including reliance on high-flow oxygen and the emotional toll it has taken. Despite these obstacles, she has become a passionate advocate, educating others about PH and serving as an ambassador for PHA Canada. Throughout, Kathy highlights the crucial support from her husband and the difficulties caregivers face.

My name is Kathy Downey. I am from Calgary, Alberta. I have been a PH patient for four and a half years, and it's been a fun ride. When I first started feeling that something was wrong, I was in San Diego. I was there on a medical conference. We were at a nice little Italian restaurant and we had to climb over all those canals that San Diego is famous for. Everybody was pulling away from me. I thought, well, I didn't drink that much, I didn't eat that much, so what's the problem? I am so out of breath. So, I spent most of that conference just trying to fake it till I make it, because even though I'm with all these doctors, they're all forensic pathologists, so I don't need their help yet. I thought, okay, Kathy, when you get home, you are going on a diet. You are going to exercise until you get this fat ass in control, and there ergo, your breathing will be better. We went back home. I talked to my family doctor. Of course, she was on board with the losing weight and all that. As time progressed, things progressed even more. I got to the point I was no longer working for the medical team. I was working for the faculty of nursing at the University of Calgary. I was trying to walk from building to building as part of my position. I would be taking my phone with me, not to call an emergency, but to be able to catch my breath, and hopefully nobody would notice. One of the worst times was when we had construction going on in the little area where our buildings were, so we had to walk outside in minus thirty-something degree weather, in Celsius. The wind was blowing and it was so cold. I couldn't catch my breath for love nor money. I thought, well, I'm just going to lay down here and die. I'm done. Of course, being a woman, we also have other issues that might be a problem. I was of the age of perimenopausal. I was bleeding a lot, so the tiredness and the short of breath could be attributed to that. Finally, when I was able to find a gynecologist that would actually do surgery for me, I thought, oh, I'm going to get this out of my body and I'm going to be a-okay, I'm going to be back to the land of the living. But it didn't help. So, I went to the ER. Not multiple times, I tried not to go, but when you're not breathing and you think, well, I'm going to go to the ER and they're finally going to figure it out. But I would get doctors saying, "Yeah, you've got something, but I don't know what it is." Or before I had my hysterectomy, one doctor said, "You can't buck the system by coming into emergency and hope that we're going to pull your uterus out of your body." He didn't even attribute any of my concerns of, “I wasn't caring about this, I was caring about my breathing.” I went back to San Diego the month of February 2020. I still was having troubles. I got onto Santa Monica Beach. I got halfway across the beach and I thought, well, here we go again. I'm going to just sit down in the sand, at least it's warmer, and I'm going to die here. It kind of put a damper on that trip. I mean, anybody who's been to San Diego and seen the zoo and the hills in that zoo, let's just say I did a lot of sitting on benches while my daughter and my husband went and did all the other stuff. When I got back, I started having pains in my arms. I couldn't figure out what's that from? Is that because I flew? It's a three-hour plane ride. I got in there, I got a ER doc that actually listened. He finally did all sorts of tests on me. Meanwhile, (my husband) Don had to go back to San Diego. He was staying with our friend who's a forensic pathologist. I was writing, ask Evan, our friend, what should I be asking this ER doc, because I have his attention? Evan says, "See if you can get a copy of your medical records." I got medical records, took pictures and sent them to Don and Evan. He says, "Yeah, ask them why you have pulmonary hypertension." He's a doctor, it's great that he knows a little bit about this stuff, but I'm saying, "No Evan, it's not pulmonary. It's cardiology, because my blood pressure is bad," and everything like that. While I was waiting for Evan and Don to write me back, I was looking through my medical records and down in the corner, in 2017, and this is 2020, it says, “pulmonary hypertension?” Nobody had gone any further in the speculation that I may have had pulmonary hypertension three years prior to when I finally got diagnosed. The short end of the rest of the story is that within a week I was back to see my respirologist, who was a great person of, "Lose the weight and you'll feel better." All of a sudden, he was eating his words and he had me in the PH clinic. Within a week, I was a patient of Dr. Jason Weatherald. I just went through the system really fast. Unfortunately, by the time I had my right heart catheterization, he came in and said, "You have this. You should be in the hospital, but you can't stay in the hospital, because the world is shutting down this evening for Covid." We went back home and it's like, okay, now I've got to deal with this pulmonary hypertension thing. Don't Google it. Covid, what is this Covid? Covid wasn't even on my radar, because I was so busy working with what's going on with me, and oh, I think I see a glimmer of hope that somebody knows what's actually wrong with me. It was hard for the first few months of dealing with not being able to ask the questions that I wanted to ask, and trying to navigate both of the huge issues that were in my life at the time. But I am very grateful to PHA Canada. I've become an ambassador. The Facebook page, the Canadian PHriends Facebook page is a wonderful place to go, because you're with friends. It's private. We did a lot virtually for two or three years, which was also nice to be able to have that camaraderie. About a week after I got diagnosed, I was going back for an assessment and I said to Dr. Weatherald, "I am still finding it really hard to breathe.” I already was put on, I think, two oral medications by that time. He took me for a little walk around the office and he said, "Yeah, you are quite low." He gave me a list of oxygen providers in our city. I went home and I picked one. I phoned them and they came in, and their assessment had me on eight liters per minute already. I have been on relatively high flow since the very beginning. I just celebrated my four and a half year anniversary. I am now currently at 22 liters per minute, because my condition is steadily getting worse. The responsibility of oxygen, is knowing or being able to estimate, how long are you going to be out? How many cylinders of oxygen do you need? What will you do if you get into a snare in the traffic and you're at a standstill for… 20 minutes, could even be detrimental. All these things are going through your mind as you're going out. You're not able to totally relax. In the early days, I was able to go out and have coffee with my friends. I used to drive. I used to go to my appointments by myself. Then, as the oxygen started mounting and mounting and mounting, I found that I would get dizzy. It was a lot lugging the tank in and out of the car. Trying to do that again in -20, -40 degree weather was not fun. My husband ended up taking up that duty and he's been great. But, the one time I had to do it of late, my son and I were going to the appointment and I'm so used to Don preparing everything for me, that we took what we thought would be enough. But then, we got unsure of where the appointment was, a little lost. Then, by the time I got to the appointment, I was already half done with all the oxygen that I brought. When I was on eight, it would be scary, but I knew I could get home even if I ran out of oxygen. At 15 plus, there's no chance. I've gotten to the point now that if I'm without oxygen for even three minutes, I think I'm going to blank out. I always prided myself, they always ask in a clinic situation, "Have you ever fainted?" I say, "No, I'm not a fainter. It must take a lot to make me faint." Well, I found out five minutes without oxygen can be that level that makes me pass out. I've been blessed with the greatest caretaker in the world, and many people in the Calgary PH community know us as the couple, the powerhouse couple. Not because we'd wanted it to be, it just happened that way. I don't know how I could do it on my own, all this, with the appointments, the hospital stays, the oxygen and everything. I have needed Don along the way, mental support, emotional support. Caregivers get a bum rush in many ways that they are not supported by our government. They are only supported if they had a job and had to leave it, and can go on unemployment benefits. But when your husband, or partner, or caregiver has to start looking after you and they're self-employed, and no longer can do their job, there's diddly squat for them. Most people on PH, for me anyway, I was too far gone by the time I was diagnosed, to be able to ever work again. You feel that emotional tug of, I want you to go and work and I want me to go to work, but I want you home in case something happens. So my hat's off to the single people who have to do this by themselves and juggle everything, because he contacts my disability for me, because sometimes they just talk above me. I don't know if it's the disease. I never felt so dumb until I got this disease. The funny thing, I guess, is when I used to have to go for blood work, because I'm on such high flow and during Covid, he couldn't come with me with the extra oxygen. He would sit out in the car and if I had to wait anytime, because even though I had an appointment, I'm still waiting an hour. I would text him and say, oh, I need oxygen. He would come in and assure everybody that he was only there for a second or two. Then, I had to go in during the winter months. I said, "Let's just go in the morning when they first open up, because then it's done and we can get on with our day." They open up at 06:30 in the morning. I'm sitting in the car where it's warm, and Don's standing in the lineup with everybody else with his toque, and his mitts, and everything. This is the sort of stuff that he does for me. Now he does all the cooking and house cleaning. I'm so grateful for him. But I'm also sad for him that he's had to do this. When I was diagnosed, before that, I always wanted to be an authority on something. We'd all like to, not necessarily die the way Matthew Perry died, but he had remembrances and accolades and all that. I don't think I'm going to get that, but I wanted to be an authority on something. When I got my disease, I said, I am going to be an authority on this. I am going to learn everything I can about this. We did that. We studied, we talked to people, we read reputable articles and all that sort of stuff. My main thing was to educate. First, it was to educate family doctors, because they're the ones that see us first and they don't have a clue. It's not their fault, because they are a general doctor. They can't know everything. Even specialists don't know everything either. Throughout the last four years, I make it a point to introduce myself to newbies on the Facebook page. I host a monthly meetup that's virtual across Canada. If somebody's in the hospital, I'm going to write to them and say, "Hey, what are you doing? Everything going well?" Blah, blah blah. Then, somebody said, "Are you interested in becoming an ambassador?" I thought, oh, I don't know if I can do that. I looked at Don and I said, "Do you want to do it?" He said, "Yes, let's do it," because then we have another way of getting the education out. So, we became ambassadors two years ago. Then, we were invited to be on the CRAVE panel, which talked about patient involvement in trials of new drugs and procedures. So, we're being sought out, which is really nice. I think I'm close to being that authority in something. So, if anything else, when I'm gone, somebody can say, "Oh, that Kathy, she knew everything." I am Kathy Downey, and I am aware that I am rare.

Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware  Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate #phaware Share your story: info@phaware.com @phacanada

Listen and View more on the official phaware™ podcast site

[coldresolve]

Moneymakers, pt.ii // Mercy

Previous / AO3 / Masterlist / Next

It’s hard to see in the pre-dawn murkiness, even harder with the fog that has yet to evaporate from tarmac and grass – but the neighborhood seems more rural than he remembers it. Hedges are overgrown, lawns usually well-manicured sprout weeds and autumn wildflowers, and foliage dropped by withering trees is left to rot in all the nice driveways. It’s like Davin said: why bother keeping up appearances when there is nobody around to appear for? Vacation home neighborhoods like these are almost abandoned come October. That’s what makes them so perfect.

The coarse wheel of the lighter has rubbed Renee’s thumb raw by the time a flame flickers steady enough to light his cigarette. He straightens up, stretches his stiff legs, and casts a glance over the hood of the car. Long curtains of black hair are tilted vaguely toward a partially obscured phone screen, thumbs scrolling this way and that, as if searching for something.

“What time is it?” Renee asks the curtains.

“Six thirty,” comes the absentminded reply.

Renee lets out a small groan and deliberately takes the next three drags of his smoke too quickly, feels out the lightheaded rush. He’s not surprised Davin seems so ingulfed by his news feed. It’s only natural to want your finger on the pulse after doing what they just did. Still, Renee finds himself too exhausted to care. The adrenaline is long gone, and all he wants by now is a stiff drink and some shuteye.

In due time.

He strolls along the car, fingers running smooth across the lacquer until he reaches the seam of the rear spoiler. Cracking his neck, he pops the trunk open.

“Huh,” he says. “You really can fit anything in a Clio.”

The guy doesn’t look like he finds the quip particularly amusing. He looks like hell, actually, curled into a space barely wide enough stretch his legs in, and yet somehow, the room he takes up is only half of what he has available. The bottom half his face is still streaked with dried blood, a cut on the bridge of his (only slightly) crooked nose, another shallower one down his cheek, and his dark curls are visibly damp. He’s been crying, evidently. There’s that pinkish sheen to his eyes, an irritated look to the skin over his cheekbones where he no doubt tried to rub away the evidence when he heard the motor stop.

Renee grins down at him. “Shit, you’ve been having a riot back here.”

Conrad visibly cringes.

“Mocking the guy you almost just killed isn’t very chivalrous of you,” Davin remarks as he drags a large duffel bag from the back seat and hoist it over his shoulder with some difficulty.

“Fuck chivalry,” Renee mutters, “he was squirming.”

“The sooner you help me unload the car, the sooner you can cry yourself to sleep about it. Give me the keys.”

Renee snorts. “Yeah, yeah.” He rummages through spare lighters and change in his jacket until he finally feels the zigzag edge of the vacation home’s master key. As Davin snatches it from his hand, he switches it out for a folding knife.

“Spare your back, cut the ties to his feet,” he says, then adds: “At least your cargo can walk.”

Renee frowns, eyeing the huddled figure in his trunk. “And what if he runs?”

“Then catch him,” Davin says, and sends Renee a sweet smile. With that, and a courteous nod at Conrad, he sets up the driveway.

Exactly when Renee predicts it, the motion sensor above the front door triggers a spotlight that illuminates Davin’s figure, from his weighted steps up the porch to his fiddling with the lock, until the door opens, and he enters. One after another, the lights inside flicker on. Entryway, kitchen, hallway, staircase.

It’s only when Davin reaches the upper floor that Renee turns his attention back to Conrad. “You’re not gonna run, are you?”

Quickly shaking his head, Conrad’s eyes dart from the house to Renee to the cigarette held loosely between his fingers.

Now there’s an idea.

“Why are you so quiet, hm? I’d expected you to scream up and down the wall for two days straight, at least.”

Conrad swallows thick. “Wh-,” he starts, then clears his throat. “What am I supposed to say? You wouldn’t let me go, anyway.”

“Maybe it’s just a principle kinda thing.” Renee shrugs, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I can think of a few things, if you’re drawing a blank.”

He nonchalantly draws nearer, flicking ash off to the side, reveling, in some way, in how the guy shifts back a little further, like a cornered animal desperately trying to appear smaller. As if that would help.

“Please, don’t hurt me… I have a family… I’m too young to die… Stuff like that.”

Carding his fingers through Conrad’s black curls and tightening a fist there, Renee feels a spike of satisfaction when the guy shudders and goes stiff. The tension in his body is kind of interesting to see. The fear in his eyes, the shakiness he has to swallow down if he wants Renee’s grip to remain painless. The way he carefully adjusts and follows along when Renee tilts his head slightly, revealing the side of his neck, where a pulse flutters along under the surface, anything but still. What is that, a deer in headlights? A compromise to not get hurt too badly? Some fucked up kind of acceptance?

It’s control.

He takes what he knows is the last drag of his cigarette, then holds it by the filter, watches the ember smolder in the frigid air. Watches as Conrad’s eyes widen as he finally starts to get it.

“What are you…?” Conrad breathes, all his attention now zeroed in on the cigarette. The weak jerk of his head as he tries to draw away from Renee’s grasp does nothing more than rip a few hairs out, and Conrad winces, breaths picking up. “Hey, don’t,” he says a little louder, voice dropping. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that.”

“See?”

Renee fully intends to place the ember over the wild beat of Conrad’s jugular. Fully intends to draw out a scream in the night, to hear a voice crack in pain, all from something he did, all because he wants to hear it.

But he doesn’t get that far. The front door rattles again, and Davin’s footsteps thud down the driveway pavers, a begrudging reminder to stick to that stupid fucking plan. Renee lets Conrad and the butt of his cigarette both fall as they might.

The cigarette snuffs out in a shallow puddle on the pavement; Conrad thumps his head against the back seat with a gasp, blinking up. “Y-you weren’t really gonna—?”

“Oh, save the big sigh of relief, Connie boy,” Renee grumbles. “I’m still a smoker.”

He can tell when Davin comes back into view by Conrad’s gaze shifting to the side. When it shifts back, Renee sends him the most snitch-on-me-and-you’re-dead look he can muster.

After a short pause, Davin clears his throat. “Renee?”

“Don’t give me that,” Renee sneers. “I wasn’t gonna do anything, I was just fucking around.”

Davin nods slowly. “Right. Well, whenever you’re done fucking around, feel free to haul your half of the load.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

One of Conrad’s pant legs has crept up, giving the tie around his ankle ample opportunity to leave abrasions in his skin: an opportunity, it seems, that the zip tie has taken. Renee purposefully cuts at it with the dull side of the knife on his first pass, just to have the plastic dig taught into raw skin and hear Conrad’s sharp inhale – you take what you can get. Then he snorts, flips the knife, and cuts the ties for real.

Although freed, it’s not until Renee pulls him out of the trunk and to his feet that he dares to makes any movement on his own. He staggers a little, and has barely gained a steady footing before Renee pulls him by the arm to the side passenger door to retrieve his own belongings. One hand still firmly clenched in his captive’s sleeve, Renee slings his backpack over one shoulder, then picks up the grocery bag tucked under the front seat where he left it, shutting the door with his hip.

Davin is waiting for them on the sidewalk, another bulky duffel bag over his shoulder. Renee knows he’s being petty with the scowl he sends him as he shoulders past, Conrad in tow, but he can’t help it. The vaguely condescending puritanism gets on his nerves. He hopes it won’t be A Thing.

The guy walks slowly, one small, awkward step after the other, as if he’s a condemned soul on his way to the chopping block – maybe because he can sense that in a way, that’s exactly what he is. It takes him long enough to get up the driveway, even with Renee’s steady pull on his sleeve, that Renee’s mind starts to drift. Glass bottles clink as the bag dangling from his other hand bumps into the side of his leg. He can’t remember exactly what he bought, only that it would do for the time being – some things to mix, some things he prefers straight. All his, as Davin has made it clear he doesn’t drink.

And then, right at the threshold of the front door, Conrad halts to a complete stop. He looks into the well-lit house with wide eyes, breathing somewhat superficially, and won’t budge an inch from there.

“You know,” Renee says, whatever patient act he had steadily crumbling, “I was thinking we go all the way inside.”

Conrad looks up at him nervously, mouth moving, but no words come out. Then he turns back to Davin. “I just��”

“You’re good, buddy,” Davin mutters, a strained edge to his voice. He adjusts the strap over his shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh. “We’ll just sit down, get you cleaned up, and that’s it, alright? No more surprises for today.”

Conrad turns back to look inside, expression still taught with fear and uncertainty. With stiff movements, he slowly lets Renee pull him forward again.

Once they’re in the kitchen, Davin carefully lets the duffel bag thump to the floor and catches Renee’s gaze, nodding toward the dinner table.

Per the request, Renee maneuvers Conrad in that direction, dragging out a chair with one foot. He releases his convoy with a light pat on the shoulder. “All yours.”

By then, Davin has already found a clean washcloth, and stands at the sink, filling a soup bowl with water. He eyes the grocery bag in Renee’s hands, and upon seeing Renee’s raised eyebrow, dismisses him with a half-shrug. “You do you,” he says under his breath.

“As you wish,” Renee says.

Conrad shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes scouring the house, from the kitchen area to the living room and the large windows overlooking the yard, to the hallway where closed doors lead to what for him is the great unknown. God knows what he must be thinking. Whatever it is, it gets interrupted when Davin places the bowl of water on the table next to him.

“I, I just,” he stammers, “I don’t understand why…”

“Listen.” Davin pulls up a chair in front of Conrad, and ducks down to catch his gaze.  “Hey. We’re all pretty tired by now, hm? So all of this - everything that’s happened tonight – let’s let it rest. Sleep off the initial shock, clear our heads a bit.”

“How?” Conrad whispers. “How am I supposed to, to sleep when, when—” He shrugs to draw attention to his tied hands, before his eyes shift hopelessly toward the ceiling, and his lower lip quivers. “You kidnappedme!”

Davin drops the wash cloth in the bowl to let it soak. He sends Renee an uncertain sideways glance before he turns back to Conrad, clearing his throat. “I’ve got, uh… something that might make sleeping a little easier. If you think you might need it, I mean.”

It doesn’t take a genius to read the disbelief in Conrad’s face, much less the half-terrified, half-appalled grimace that follows. “I’m not gonna let you drug me.”

“Just an offer,” Davin quickly says. “Forget I said anything.”

Renee has to turn his back on them both, rustling for the drinks in his grocery bag, struggling to stifle laughter, although he can’t determine at whose expense it’s at. He listens, a little distractedly, to the vague rustling behind him.

“Nothing fishy, yeah?” Davin mutters. “Just plain water.”

The silence that follows is only broken by the wringing out and dripping of the washcloth, the occasional sound of discomfort from Conrad, and Renee’s carefree drink prep. He systematically goes through one cabinet after the other, nearly giving up his search by the time he remembers the drinking glasses are stored in one of the large drawers by the sink. The coke is room temperature, of course, but Renee finds enough ice cubes left over in the freezer to fill half a glass. As he’s pouring rum, deciding he might as well be a little self-indulgent with it, he hears Davin sigh decisively.

“Alright. I’m going to straighten up your nose, yeah?”

Bottle still in hand, Renee pauses to peek over his shoulder.

The water in the bowl has turned a washy pink-orange color, though the cloth discarded in it still sports flakes of red too dry to have been dissolved. Conrad doesn’t look like he feels markedly better. With the blood washed away, the scratch on his cheek is barely visible anymore, but it’s also become apparent that those aren’t just bags under his eyes – they’re bruises.

Taking a deep breath, Conrad gives Davin a small nod, but his eyes are still wary when Davin’s hands approach. He winces when fingers brush over a sore spot, and shuts his eyes tight.

“H-have you done this before?”

“Yes,” Davin murmurs. “Just relax.”

Renee doesn’t see the fingers move, doesn’t hear the bone slide back into place, but suddenly, Conrad lets out a cry and curls forward in the chair, shoulders raised as if he’s trying to shield his face. He lets out a groan between his knees, hands behind him coiled tight into fists, zip ties digging into skin already sporting raw, red lines.

“That’s it,” Davin says softly, right around the same time Renee thinks the same - albeit in a slightly different tone.

When Conrad finally straightens back up, he’s blinking tears from his eyes. "It doesn't feel better," he says, voice unsteady.

Davin shrugs. "Well, I can't exactly un-break it. But now it's back in place, at least."

The loud fizz of the coke bottle makes them both look up.

“I could try and un-break it,” Renee says casually. “Maybe if I hit him hard enough, the bones will fuse back together.”

Some of the color drains from Conrad’s face.

“He’s joking,” Davin assures him. “He’s not gonna hit you.”

Renee has to bite back the urge to follow up with a, Yet. Instead, he just snickers, turning back to his glass. The ice is cold enough to crackle as it’s submerged.

“C’mon,” Davin says. “I’ll show you to your room.”

There’s a pause, and Renee can guess why.

“It’s just a normal guest bedroom. No booby traps, I promise.”

Renee turns around, drink in hand, just in time to see Conrad cast an uncertain look over his shoulder, as if checking to make sure Renee doesn’t follow along. The instant their eyes meet, he quickly turns away again, letting Davin lead him down the hallway.

That the guy is already playing favorites is something Renee can barely wrap his head around. He doesn’t mind it, though. Maybe a bit of animosity between the two of them is in order. A method act, and all that.

By the time Davin comes back, Renee is almost through his drink, and his restlessness has begun to settle. Propping both elbows on the counter, he leans back and sends his partner in crime a smile. “All set, huh? I’d say that went swimmingly.”

Davin snorts, crossing his arms in front of him and propping one shoulder up against the fridge. “You got carried away,” he says.

“Yeah, I beg to differ.”

“Mhm?”

“Mhm. If anything, I’d say you’re the one who’s being too merciful.”

“How am I being merciful?”

“You’re leaving him in the dark, aren’t you? Going all nurse on him, seemed real keen on sparing him that sleepless night.”

“I want his—”

“His genuine reaction, yeah, yeah.” Renee swirls the nearly empty glass between his fingers, as one would a glass of wine, and watches his drink quickly trail down the sides. “Yeah, you say that," he says, squinting up at Davin in mock suspicion, "but you can’t fool me, I know what you're hiding. Buried deep down in that dark soul of yours, there’s a soft, harmless old man waiting for his moment to shine. A real pigeon feeder type.”

Davin chuckles, shaking his head a little. “You see right through me,” he mutters. “Fine, we’ll call it mercy, then. But you still didn’t show enough of it.”

“Oh, please.” Renee downs the last of his drink and dumps the remaining ice in the sink. The alcohol isn’t enough to make him tipsy, but it has eased some of his usual restlessness for sure. He settles back against the countertop, mirroring Renee’s closed stance, right down to the solemn expression on his face. “You and I both know,” he says slowly, “that showing him mercy now won’t make him feel any better, say, this time tomorrow.”

Outside the windows of the dining area, the sun has begun to rise for good, bathing the yard in warm light, from the terrace, past decaying flower beds, all the way down to the pine grove in the far end of the property

“No,” Davin says quietly. “I suppose it won’t.”

Previous / Masterlist / Next

[actualbird]

Oh god!

I really love the poly headcanons they are so sweet.... (or don't but that's part of it and i think the tot boys+MC deserve all the love the world has to give).

But, liking it or not, our 4 beloved boys are kinda complicated (that's what makes them perfect). Plus I never thought about how people get in poly relationships. So i was thinking, how do you think they all get into a polyrelationship together?

(I really have no idea of how that would happen)

hi, two anons!! im glad you guys liked my nxx team polycule stuff!! i'll answer these in one go, my "headcanon" (in quotes because i think this kinda turned into a character analysis/minific of sorts HAHA) being what first anon asked, How They Get Together.

heads up, wc of this is 1.9k words long so buckle up for a bit of a read jfsjdfkjbf

because first anon, youre right!!! the boys are stupendously complicated which i love so so much but canon has also shown us clearly that each of the boys' quirks and habits and tendencies causes a lot of (mostly played for laughs) friction. the bickering, the backhanded insults, the "im the best one here" preening contests. theyre all SOOOO RIDICULOUS and it is hilarious but yep! the boys r complex!! and that means this beautiful ship, imo, has a lot of phases to get to the actual romantic relationship bit.

how they get together, in my opinion, starts because of mc.

not in the sense that she matchmakes them all, but like.

phase 1 of the nxx team polycule is this:

through being in love with her (which we all know the boys 100% are), each of the boys come to terms with their own flaws and weaknesses. it's very apparent to me in all the story thus far that these boys are flawed as hell, it's very compelling but even more compelling to me is how all of them also do intense mental gymnastics to Not Confront Those Flaws. like, marius is a dickbag always teasing and toeing the line of insincerity, vyn is a controlling mf who always tries to sway situations to his benefit, artem is so repressed to the point that he has genuine trouble with emotions, luke is a self sacrificial bastard and also a huge hypocrite about how no, actually, hes the only one that should be hiding his pain and being dishonest, no dishonesty from other people!! in the beginning of the story, all the boys have their flaws and seem to have just kinda...not addressed how those flaws are harming them and the people around them.

and then mc rolls around and they all fall in love with her. and she sees those flaws and she doesnt let them slide. she challenges the boys in her own ways to see another side of the situation, to acknowledge what theyre doing. she doesnt want to get rid of flaws, thats impossible and also not cool. she just has this beautiful hope for like, all of humanity, that goodness can prevail with the right work. so when she sees her beloved nxx boys, she believes that for them as well.

which leads to phase 2 of the nxx team polycule:

the boys, more aware of themselves, become more aware of each other.

they werent Unaware of the others of course. it's just that they didnt like...truly connect on a personal level just yet. they saw the other teammembers with their emotional armor and flaws and saw a wall that wasnt worth looking past.

but after mc makes them realize that hey, flaws arent the end of the world actually, it's alright and the person behind them may just be worth it, the boys like. end up understanding the others. A LOT OF THIS BIT IS UNINTENTIONAL, ON THEIR PARTS KJDSBFS. like they stumble into understanding each other by accident, they didnt plan it, but over the course of nxx investigations, it's inevitable that they end up seeing the depths of the others. i delve into this a little bit in my fanfic "filler eps of the lost gold" where the boys are just going thru their actions and then trip over another boy's fears or desires and through that, gain a deeper understanding mutually.

and with understanding, sometimes, comes trust.

phase 3 of the nxx team polycule goes like this:

everybody in this team, whether they like it or not, whether they know it or not, has a heart that wants to give love so desperately.

marius lives in a world full of snakes so he cant have his heart on his sleeve for his own protection. vyn wants to be seen as perfect and the heart is inherently messy so he holds it back. artem for a very very long time was focused on work and success and achievement that he neglected his heart. and luke has been giving love all his life in a sense but in a way thats hidden.

all these tendencies that are brought upon their life circumstances results in this: they want to love honestly but they havent been able to do this

until mc. and all of them want to push back whatever fears or patterns their life has instilled in them because they see her and see somebody so unwaveringly good that all their hearts begin giving love to her to make her happy and to make themselves happy as well.

but heres the thing. the boys dont just see mc. by this point, they have connected and understood and come to trust each other as well, and the consequence of that is that They Can See Each Other Now Too, Truly.

and heres the thing. all of the boys are unwaveringly good as well.

one by one, each of the boys realize that what they feel for the other boys in the team starts to...change. yeah theyre all friends, they pick on each other a lot of the time, but the bedrock of the relationship is solid and strong now. but when marius is with luke, marius sees a light inside of luke so bright that he seems unaware that he gives off. when artem is with vyn, artem sees a goodness inside of vyn that hesitates to make itself obvious and known because vyn is scared of getting hurt thanks to it. all of them see the other and their goodness and, unbidden, their hearts want to give love to each other as well.

and because theyre all a bit stupid in their own way theyre like, huh, weird! wonder why this feeling is so familiar! and yet i cant seem to name it...and then they all independently compare these feeling with the feelings they have for mc, a feeling they do know the name of, and theyre like.

WAIT.

THESE FEELINGS ARE...VERY BASICALLY EXACTLY WHAT I FEEL FOR MC.

which only means one thing: theyve fallen in love with everybody else

marius: //goes to his studio to Think and sees that a bunch of his recent art actually had little crumbs of these feelings already, etched into the brushstrokes and scenes. has an emotional crisis about it

vyn: //records a 1 hour long entry in his audio diary to examine and gain control of his feelings but by the end of the hour all he knows is that he wants to hold these people and be held by them

artem: //quite literally just bluescreens, artem.exe has stopped working, sits at his study and slowly, slowly, thunks his head down onto his desk, valiantly trying to ignore the fast pulse of his heart

luke: //manically vents about it to peanut who, by virtue of being a bird, doesnt get it. just keeps talking at peanut to get a grasp of it all and then lies down on the floor, overwhelmed

mc, sitting in her apartment watching some netflix: ...why do i inexplicably feel as if something very, very important has just happened?

phase 4 of the nxx team polycule is basically:

pining: extreme difficulty level

because pining is already hard when ur pining for one person. what more for an additional 3 more people. and those additional 3 more people are pining back.

and all these boys are SOOOO OBVIOUS with their romantic feelings, in their own special way. the way they show their affection to mc starts to bleed into their interactions with the others and everybody can CLEARLY SEE WHAT IS GOING ON, LOL, but also all the boys are too chickenshit to confront it, because if they confront it, what will even happen??? being in love with each other, all of them, thats going to be such a complicated fucking relationship, holy shit. it's 2030, yeah, being a polyamorous group relationship isnt completely unheard of, but sue them, theyre scared.

but mc (who i forgot to mention already knows of the boys' romantic feelings for her, shes just hasnt made a move yet on any of them because SHES IN LOVE WITH ALL OF THEM AS WELL and shes been trying to figure out how the hell to make that work, she cant bear to choose just one of them, she'd be heartbroken over leaving the rest of them behind) sees that the nxx investigation team is now all pining for each other FULLY and she kinda wants to laugh when she realizes whats going on because like, what are the chances? that this would happen? that they all found each other and their feelings fell into just the right place for nobody to be left behind?

theyre all scared, she can tell. and she is as well, she wont lie.

but shes always had a belief that goodness can prevail with the right work.

and love is one of the greatest goods out there.

phase 5 of the nxx team polycule:

It's Time For Communication, Baby!!!!!

the exact scenes of how this happens is a bit vague to me. it could go two ways: mc going to each of the boys independently to talk about feelings, hers about everybodys and his about everybodys as well. OR they have a fucking meeting about it all together and artem literally schedules it in his google calendar, or something.

either way, they like, actually talk about this. starts casual, maybe over a chill date, maybe over dinner at a nice restaurant, maybe over a walk in the park as the sun is starting to set. but where ever it happens, the end result is the same: a heart is laid out bare and it is taken in gentle, grateful hands.

marius: OKAY, NOW THAT THE FEELINGS ARE OUT OF THE WAY, CAN I PLEASE KISS ONE OR ALL OF YOU, PLEASE, IVE BEEN WANTING TO KISS U GUYS FOR FOREVER

vyn, laughing fondly: has anybody ever told you patience is a virtue? we quite literally just talked it all out.

marius: //needy whining noises

artem, embarrassed: ive...never kissed anybody before

luke, embarrassed but trying to play it Cool: ....same here

mc: kissing is great, you two will love it!

marius: awesome, awesome, so is ANYBODY going to give me a go ahead or WHAT????

phase 6 of the nxx team polycule:

i dont want to say it's happily ever after, once they all get together. thats not really realistic.

they all have their quirks and tendencies and habits. and those will inevitable clash against each other. theyll have their arguments, theyll get upset, theyll sulk and be angry, sometimes. but also...

theyll see each other smile and feel like their love shining so brightly. theyll reach out for another's hand and be held in such a way that makes them think that their heart is in a safe place. theyll love each other and theyll put in the work to continue loving each other. because goodness will prevail.

and they all see each other as the most good people in the world.

so whatever happens, theyll get through it together.

[goddessofroyalty]

Shout out to my fiancé for letting me ramble about the difficulty of writing pregnancy in Arcane because of where roughly it equates in our history. Extra shout out for when I said “like they should have everything they need for the epidural but nobody likely put it together yet” responding with “but here we have two science guys who are unhinged and problem-solving minded enough to put it together and use themselves to test it”. So, yeah, let’s do that.

Tags: mpreg, pregnancy, childbirth (specifically c-section), un-tested medicine (but it’s an epidural so it works and is fine even if the version they’re using isn’t ideal for a c-section)

 -------------------

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Vale asks, drawing up the exact amount of drugs they had settled on into the syringe. They had done the math three times for it to be sure it would be right for Viktor’s weight but there was no real way to know for certain if it would do what it was intended.

“Yes I am certain,” Viktor says, sitting sideways on the operating table, hands gripping the edge of it.

“We could always have someone else trial it first,” Jayce suggests because the idea of his partner and child being used as the test subjects for their proposed method of pain relief for birth is kind of terrifying.

He shouldn’t have agreed with Viktor when he said there had to be a better option than what was currently available. And certainly shouldn’t have joined him down the rabbit hole of trying to figure what that better option might be. 

Viktor glares at him for his comment.

“If I do not feel confident enough to have it done to myself than we should not be testing it on anyone,” he says.

“Right.” Of course he’s right. That doesn’t mean Jayce has to like it. “I guess we’re doing this.”

“Okay, Viktor, I need you to lean over for me,” Vale says, one of her hands on Viktor’s back to gently push until she’s happy with the angle, the other holding the hypodermic.

Jayce stands in front of Viktor to help brace where he is leaning, taking hold of one of Viktor’s hands in support as Viktor’s stomach presses against him, barely any give from how full it now is from their child. 39 weeks of growth making them ready for the world. 

“Okay, just got to find the right vertebrae,” Vale says, pressing up along Viktor’s spine as she counts them. “Now, take a deep breath for me then slowly let it out and Do. Not. Move.”

Jayce gently squeezes Viktor’s hand in support as Viktor breathes in deep. Viktor squeezes back as the needle is pushed into his spine and the contents injected in, his face tense.

“How was it?” Jayce asks as the needle slides out.

“Just a little pinch,” Viktor jokes because the needle had been rather large.

“We can probably use a local first going forward. How are you feeling though?” Vale asks as she puts the needle back onto the tray.

“Fine,” Viktor says sitting up again. “It doesn’t feel like anything.”

“Wiggle your toes for me,” Vale says, coming back over, stethoscope in hand.

Viktor does.

“So you’re not completely paralyzed.”

“As we assumed,” Viktor says. “Do you want to set up for the next stage while we wait to see the effects?”

“Sure, but let me check your heart first,” Vale says. Because that was the other concern than paralysis.

Viktor’s and the baby’s heartbeats remain fine though so Vale lets him lie back on the operating table.

Jayce adjusts his chair so he is sitting by Viktor’s head. One of Viktor’s hands clenched in his own.

“We’re going to be dads soon,” Jayce says. It still doesn’t feel real despite being so close.

“I will be glad to have them out of me,” Viktor says, which is fair enough considering how uncomfortable he had been by the end of the pregnancy.

“I’m thinking,” Vale says, as she wheels over a screen, “people probably don’t want to see their stomach’s being cut into. So if they are going to be awake we should hide it right?”

“That does make sense,” Viktor agrees. And Jayce really hadn’t thought about it when he insisted on being there as well.

The idea of seeing Viktor cut open for their baby to be pulled out of him does make him feel kind of ill.

“Cool, so you’re okay with me putting this up over you?” Vale asks, guesting to the screen.

They agree and soon enough Viktor’s bottom half is hidden from view.

“Can you feel this?” Vale asks from beneath the curtain,.

“No,” Viktor says.

“Great! It seems to be working than. I’m going to start but tell me if you feel anything.”

“Do you seriously not feel anything?” Jayce asks.

“Some pressure,” Viktor admits after a moment’s contemplation. “Do you think I should scream anyway?”

“No. Please don’t.” Jayce doesn’t think he would handle it if Viktor screamed. They aren’t entirely sure how long the drug’s effects will last.

“Nearly there guys,” Vale says. “How are you doing Viktor?”

“I can feel tugging now but fine,” Viktor says. “It doesn’t completely block all sensations.”

“But no pain right?” Jayce asks just to be sure.

“No. I am in less discomfort than I normally am,” Viktor says, “I do feel a little, uh, woozy though.”

“Should we stop?” Jayce asks. It isn’t exactly the ideal point to stop but if there’s any risk to Viktor he would rather find a different option now. 

“No. I am fine,” Viktor says. “It is just a side effect to note.” 

Jayce doesn’t know if he’s completely satisfied with it but Viktor doesn’t seem less cognative so it is probably a harmless side effect. Hopefully. 

“Do you want to meet your baby?” Vale asks, immediately pulling Jayce’s attention back onto her. 

“You’re done?” Jayce asks.

“Well not done, but-“ Vale’s hands raise about the sheet holding a blood-covered baby. Their baby. The new life they had created that Viktor had carried for all those months. They look so tiny in Vale’s hands. A defensless life that is completely dependent on them both to thrive. “Congradulations it’s a boy.” 

“Oh,” Jayce says, feeling suddenly woozy himself.

“Don’t you dare pass out of my Jayce Talis,” Viktor threatens and Jayce does manage to pull himself together.

Vale hands their child up to them, letting Viktor rest him on his chest.

And this is why they had done all the work to find the new way of anesthetic. So they wouldn’t have to wait for Viktor to wake from sedation to hold the baby he had carried for months.

Watching Viktor smile down at their son even as he was still being operated on made it all worth it.

And Jayce can’t wait to share the feeling with others.

[kyouxa]

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Shin Tsukinami (Story 12)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! If you enjoy these translations, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Place: Abandoned house — Outside

Yui: (Yesterday I was apparently the first one to fall asleep. Was I really that tired though?)

Kino: How nice. C’mon, it’s hot now.

It’s some food I’ve been stealing beforehand, so please eat it as carefully as you can.

Yui: Kino-kun, thank you.

Shin: Did you steal things like this before us knowing about it too?

Kino: I might’ve taken some while you two were resting a bit.

For once, I wasn’t just playing around as you see.

Shin: No, that’s an extension of playing around, don’t you think?

Kino: Meanie. I only brought it with me because I thought that girl might be hungry to begin with. 

Yui: Really? Thank you for your concern then.

Kino: Ah, yeah! I also found something really interesting while I was searching for food!

I want to show it to Shin, so wait here for a hot minute. I’ll go get it.

*Kino leaves*

Shin: What could be so interesting? Well, whatever. I shouldn’t be surprised about anything that guy pulls up anymore.

Go on, you can eat without holding back now. You’re hungry, aren’t you?

Yui: Yep, after everything that happened, I really am. Thanks for the food! 

Ah, it’s hot… ! 

(The meat is really hot because it was freshly roasted… !)

Shin: You’re not a child anymore, so eat more calmly than that. Nobody’s taking it away from you after all.

Yui: Yes, you’re right. 

...Nn, it hurts… it looks like I burnt my tongue

Shin: Haa. Your clumsiness is showing, seriously.

*Shin gets closer*

Shin: Alright, show me your tongue. I have to check on it before it might get even worse.

Yui: Eh!? I’m fine, really! It’s not that big of a deal.

Shin: If it gets worse you’ll suffer deterioration. It’s better to show me yourself before I’m forced to pull your tongue out myself, right?

Yui: (Uhh… it’s no use, but I still hate it… let’s see)

Fine, I get it. I’ll show you myself.

Shin: What? I would’ve been fine with pulling it out myself as well.

Yui: No, thanks… ! Alright, Nn…

*Yui shows tongue*

Shin: Ah, it’s getting really red.

Should I take care of it? It would heal way faster like that, don’t you think?

Yui: Eh!? No! You don’t have to go that far, I’m fine.

Shin: You shouldn’t decline. I would be glad to help you out for the sake of it healing faster. 

Yui: T-That’s not...

Shin: Perhaps you would rather want to be bitten by my fangs than simply being treated? Well, if that’s so you could’ve told me earlier.

Yui: That’s not what I asked for… ! 

Shin: Looks as if the third wheel’s about to come back. I’ll settle this now or never then.

Nn…

*Shin kisses Yui*

Yui: Nn…

Shin: Kuku, your face is bright red. You’re still shy even if it’s just kissing.

If you don’t get used to it, there might be some difficulties in the future.

Yui: It’s embarrassing to me, therefore I can’t help it, okay… !?

Kino: ...Ahem, Ahem! 

Yui: Ah, Kino-kun! You’re back!

Kino: Yep, I’m back. Ah, don’t worry about me, just keep going.

*Shin backs off*

Shin: We can’t easily continue now. There’s nothing more we’re gonna show you either.

Kino: How lewd. Well, whatever. Apart from that, I want you to look at this. 

*Kino gets closer*

Yui: Ah, talking about it, you wanted to show us something interesting, right… ? 

Kino: Hm, yep! Tada, look at this! It’s a caricature of Shin! 

Yui: Eh? Of Shin-kun?

Shin: Uwah! Where did you get this from!?

Kino: I found it when exploring the Orange mansion. I brought it reflexively with me because it was kinda an amazing sketch, in my opinion.

Hey, did you draw this? I found it in Shin-kun’s room, but...

Shin: T-That’s...

Yui: But it looks really good. Did Shin-kun draw this all by himself?

Shin: It’s not like that. Because I had no time to do it myself, I let a familiar draw it for me instead.

Kino: Hmm, so it’s a portrait? As expected from a founder, they really act differently.

But even so, do you really like yourself that much? This portrait is way prettier than you actually are though.

Shin: Shut up! I mean, you’re not beautifaction yourself in person either! I at least let them draw me faithfully.

I’m totally fine with how this turned out. We have to talk about way more important things than that anyway. 

Kino: Yep, Yep. Let’s talk seriously about this matter from now on. Does any of you got something?

Shin: I… I want to regain my brother’s memory.

After I first got to observe the situation, I immediately felt as if it’s an impossible task. We met each other face to face several times, yet I haven’t noticed any change in him.

Yui: Shin-kun…

Kino: Well, guess so. 

Shin: So I think it’s best to find a way to get out of here first, before trying anything with him again.

Kino: Don’t you think that this is also difficult? We’ve just been looking around the mansions for now, that’s it. And even there were no clues.

Shin: I know that. I just want to get out of this ridiculous place if possible. Maybe his memory would come back naturally then.

...I thought that if I can’t somehow shake his memory, they might be able to come back themselves by any chance.

Kino: By chance, huh? Does that mean you actually cared about what I said yesterday?

Shin: ...Not really.

Yui: Yesterday? 

(I wonder what happened while I was asleep?)

Shin: So, what’s it? Do you think it’s the opposite? 

Kino: No. As you said it yourself, I think it would be quicker to get out of here first.

Shin: Thought so. What do you think?

Choices

1) What about Carla-san then? (black)

2) I want to know how to escape (white)♡ ♡ ♡

— What about Carla-san then? 

Yui: What about Carla-san then? You’re the one who wants him to remember the most after all.

Shin: It can’t be helped. I’m worried about my brother, yes, but I can’t let this be a constant priority that weighs on my mind. 

Yui: You’re right. As long as Shin-kun’s fine, I think it would be better to find an escape route first too.

Kino: Aight, it’s unanimous.

— I want to know how to escape♡

Yui: I think it would be best to find a way to escape from here first as well. Maybe Carla-san’s memory will come back once we escape.

Shin: Right? It wouldn’t make sense if we meaninglessly return home without all of their memories coming back to them. We, Kino and everyone else.

Yes, that would be a reason to postpone my brother. This is what we should aim for in the future...

Yui: (He’s speaking to us as if he’s entirely trying to convince himself about this)

(Maybe Shin-kun really wants to go and actually see Carla-san as soon as possible)

(I can’t get this feeling of them wanting to desperately kill us off either though��)

It’ll be fine, Shin-kun. I’m sure this won’t last too long anymore.

Shin: Yes, it’ll be fine. I know that.

Alright, unanimity agreed to it then.

Yui: Yes.

Kino: Okey-doke.

end Choices

Shin: That’s settled then.

Kino: I guess he’ll be able to manage his memory somehow or another. If I could go back to my original house, Yuri would probably help me for sure.

Yui: Yuri-san?

Kino: He’s my loyal servant. As soon as I get home from here, I’ll let him do some research in order to restore your brother's memory.

Shin: Yes, that would help a lot.

Kino: But, y’know… Even if we’re looking for an escape route, we have to first of all figure out how we were brought to this place 

Shin: It’s worse, especially since we know nothing about this place. If there are at least any hints somewhere...

Yui: That’s true. It was also one of the reasons we went into each of the mansions...

Shin: Seriously, did you notice anything?

Yui: What I noticed—

*flashbacks*

Yui: Ah! Speaking of that—

Shin: What?

Yui: Each of the mansions had the exact amounts of chess pieces on their chess boards

Shin: Now that you mention it, I do think I noticed one standing in the living room of the Orange mansion once...

Kino: Ah, there was also one in Scarlet’s mansion.

Yui: I remember there was also one in the Violet mansion. Besides, the floor of the church also has a checkered pattern of black and white marble—

Kino: Like a chessboard.

Yui: Yes!

Shin: I see. But what exactly does this have to do with this? Both are probably just there as decorations.

Kino: No, I doubt that it’s just for decoration… I see now.

Yui: Kino-kun, did you figure something out?

Kino: I wouldn’t call it “figure”. It’s just that I thought of something...

We were forcibly dumbed off in this unknown place and also got a fake memory. In my opinion, this all seems as if it’s definitely someone’s work.

Shin: So you’re saying there’s a mastermind?

Kino: Exactly. If there’s an ongoing game, there also has to be a mastermind behind it.

Us, as the players, were given those hints to probably keep this as interesting as we can.

Shin: Hah? In other words— ...Nn!

Yui: Shin-kun? What’s wrong? Why did you suddenly stand up?

*Shin sniffs air*

Shin: Hnff

Damn it! We’re surrounded!

Yui: Eh… !?

Ayato: Guess we finally found you, traitors!

Kanato: You did terrible things to us, remember? There is no way we would let you kidnap Eve and then join hands with the enemy—

Yui: (Ayato-kun! Kanato-kun! And—)

Ruki: —Shin, I get it now…

I would’ve never expected for my most trusted person to end up betraying me as simple as that.

Shin: Ru… Brother…

Ruki: A traitor, such as yourself, has no right to call me his brother any longer!

Yui: ...Nn!

Shin: It’s useless even if I’ll try to explain. But I never intended to look as if I was about to betray you or anything, I swear.

I know you were a good brother, even if you’ve never been my real older brother in the end...

Ruki: I’ve got no idea about what strange things you’re blabbering, yet the confirmation of you being here is fact enough.

It doesn’t change the situation, even if you start coming up with excuses.

Ayato: Hey, Ruki! Let’s take these guys out quickly!

Kanato: That’s right. Let’s rightfully punish them. I’ll tear them into pieces once I get my hands around them.

Yui: (What should we do now? If we’re doing nothing, they’ll start a battle—! Am I really not able to somehow avoid this?)

Kino: Shin, what do we do?

Shin: The only ones with fighting skills are you and me. It would be 3 vs 2...

Kino: Besides, it would be a battle while we’d also have to try to protect the girl from being taken away from us.

Yui: (What should I do… I’m holding them back from what they have to do because I’m with them)

Shin: We have no choice, seems as if we really have to confront our problems head-on and fight them.

Kino: Eh? That’s not true. If you transform yourself into a wolf, you could carry her and easily run away.

Shin: Hah? I can’t just do that!

Kino: ...Why not? Do you really have to complain about my strategy now?

Shin: My back is limited to only giving one of you a ride! I don’t know if you’d be able to get away without me helping you!

Kino: ...Nn!! What… why would you say something like that…

*Kino mumbles*

Kino: Ahh… I guess I have no choice but to save you as a repayment now too. 

Yui: ….. ?

Shin: So instead of running away, I’d like to break through this in our own ways...

Kino: No, we’re gonna avoid confronting them head-on and not fight them. We’re changing strategies.

Shin: Hah? Why change them so late...

Kino: Ready? When I’ll give you the signal, you have to run.

Shin: Eh? What do you mean?

Kino: With this, we’ll easily be able to get away right in front of them… you guys, close your eyes and noses! 

*Kino throws something*

Ayato: What the!? What did he throw!?

Kanato: A pouch… ?

Ruki: ...Nn! That’s not just a mere pouch. Close your eyes and hold your breath!

*pouch explodes*

Kanato: Ahem, Ahem, Ahem

Ayato: Ngh! What’s going on here!? I can’t see shit anymore! Ahem, Ahem.

Ruki: Kch… Ayato, Kanato can you see the enemy? 

Ayato: Don’t bullshit me! I can’t see anything!

Shin: Damn, that guy’s really something. But he saved us! We only have to run away now!

Yui: (Shin-kun’s voice!)

Where? Where are you? I can’t see anything! 

Shin: Over here!

*Shin grabs Yui*

Yui: (The one holding my hand right now… it’s Shin-kun!)

Kino: Hurry, both of you! 

Yui: (I also heard Kino-kun’s voice. I’m sure I’ll be fine as long as I follow the sound of their voices— !)

Place: Outside — Forest

Yui: Haa… Haa… Haa—

Shin: Haa… Haa…

Kino: Haa, Haa…

Shin: Kino, what was that about?

Kino: It was a wheat bomb.

Yui: Huh!?

Kino: I secretly made it when we were in the Violet mansion back then. All I did was wrap the smoldering wheat in a cloth, get it?

Shin: And you really made that yourself? You’re an unexpectedly shrewd guy.

Yui: Thanks to that, we were saved! Thank you, Kino-kun!  

Kino: I have to admit… I’d love to hear you praise me more, but we have to worry about running away first! 

Yui: (Seriously, it’s all thanks to Kino-kun that we’re safe right now. He’s a really good person after all)

[monsterfuneral]

the vampiric pros and cons | the lost boys

Relationship: Poly!Lost Boys x Fem!Reader

Summary: One year anniversaries were always important, it was a mark of a year long commitment to one someone or something but what happens when your four someone’s seem to forget?

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, the reader has a breakdown, the boys being dumb, fluff, swearing.

Words: 3.3k

Author’s Note: I hope you like this as much as I liked writing it, thank you very much anon for the request  <3 

Idk what is giving me this 3k word juice but I really enjoy it

REQUESTS OPEN 

(please read my “I do NOT write” section before sending in anything <3)

---

There were pros and cons of being a human. One very important con being time perception, whether it be what time you had to be at work, what year it was, or even what special occasion fell on what day. Time was something your very undead boyfriends hadn’t had to deal with in decades, while they attempted to adjust to your much more human life it did come with difficulty, which today just proves how much. With your eyes flitting from the mirror to the clock on your nightstand and back to your reflection, you couldn’t help but let out a slow sigh. They were an hour late. 

While at first you assumed at least one of them- Dwayne- would be able to keep track, that thought now seemed futile. You knew that as a vampire you didn’t have to stress over something as trivial as time management, especially since they quite literally had forever to do something. But you couldn’t deny it hurt every time you watched the clock tick by without any signs of revving engines outside your apartment complex. You couldn’t deny that it stung when they seemed to have forgotten your one year anniversary. 

Your eyes locked back onto your reflection’s, looking over your outfit for probably the thirtieth time. While you weren’t wearing some fancy ball gown and your hair wasn’t perfectly styled, it was a lot more effort you put in your everyday appearance. You had switched out your worn leather jacket for a fancier, seemingly spotless one. You even put on your best pants, not a rip in sight, along with a pair of black combat boots that looked brand new. The effort probably wasn’t worth it knowing the boys would probably be dressed in their regular clothes, which you didn’t mind, but thinking about that now it made you feel slightly ridiculous for even caring so much.

With another glance at the clock on your nightstand you felt a harsh pang in your chest, 1:21am it read in big red blocky numbers, they were supposed to pick you up at twelve. You tried to keep the tears at bay but the more you stared at the clock the blurrier the numbers got. Was it stupid to have put hope in them in the first place? Could you really blame them? You knew what you were signing up for, so why were you getting so upset?

You brought your hands up to your face and sniffled, wiping the tears away rather harshly. 

“Fuck.” More tears slipped from your eyes in retaliation and you let out a groan, realizing just what you had to do. You walked over to the chair in the corner of your room, one that served more as a laundry hamper rather than something to sit on, and plucked your bag from top of the pile searching for your keys. 

If they weren’t going to come here then you were going to come to them, and you were not happy. 

---

You white-knuckled your steering wheel the whole drive to the bluff, music playing low on your radio yet still feeling all too loud. Even though they had forgotten you couldn’t help but feel like it was your fault. But that was ridiculous right? You had reminded them almost every night and they had seemed to be listening, did you just not try hard enough or did they really just not care?

The tears were pooling again, blurring the lines on the road before they morphed into dirt and you were finally parked at the rickety wooden stairs leading down to the cave. You shut the car off and just sat for a few seconds trying to level your breathing. You glanced at your wristwatch and it read 1:53am, you couldn’t suppress the growl that crawled up your throat. After everything you did for them, after all the times you reminded them, they fucking forgot. 

With that in mind you threw the rusty car door open and slammed it shut, your fists clenching beside your thighs before you drew your jacket closer to shield yourself from the ocean breeze. You stomp down the creaky stairs, angrily muttering to yourself before coming up to the gate entrance and slipping inside, careful not to snag your jacket like you’ve done many times before. 

You walked through the tunnel leading towards the flickering light coming from the candles and metal barrels. It usually warms you from the inside out but in this moment all you felt was cold. There was no smile growing on your face, no hands guiding you carefully so you didn't bust your ass on the way down, no whooping vampires flying overhead. It was silent inside the cave. Nobody was here. They must have been out feeding. That thought only served to enrage you even more.

Of course they had time to remember their own needs but not yours when it was your anniversary? You hadn’t even asked for much either, all you wanted was to go down to the beach and have a cute little night-time picnic with them, a bonfire lit off to the side and all of you having a great time, that’s all you wanted. 

You couldn’t help but once again feel like you were overreacting, was it really their fault for forgetting? While they certainly weren’t perfect when it came to remembering everything, at least they tried. But what stopped them from trying this time? Stop over thinking so much. Did they still care for you or did they lose interest? You’re being ridiculous. You felt tears begin to streak down your cheeks once again, the frustration building more and more. 

When you plopped down onto the couch a small puff of dust followed, clouding around your hips as you cradled your head pathetically and cried into the palms of your hands, very certain the makeup you had put on earlier in the night had been fully cried off. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting on the couch after your last tear dropped, but it felt like hours. Your body felt vacant of all emotion, your eyes locking onto the flickering candle sat atop the fountain, it held all of your focus as it danced and swayed with the occasional breeze that would push itself inside the cave. The fluttering of wings sounded so much louder now too with it being so quiet, Marko’s pigeons flying back and forth every now and then. Your head didn’t even lift up when you heard the distant whoops of your vampiric partners. The anger was now completely washed away and was replaced with a cold nothingness, all emotions having been exhausted from your body when it had been racking with sobs. 

The fluttering of clothes sounded overhead when they finally flew inside, circling the top of the cave before finally realizing there was an unmoving figure sat upon their couch. David was the first to touch down, cold blue eyes staring at you with concern as you just continued to stare ahead at the flickering candle. His heavy steps echoed off the cave walls as he drew closer saying your name gently as if it would break you to say it louder. If you were being completely honest with yourself, it probably would have. 

David kneeled down in front of you and carefully placed a hand on your knee which you moved slowly away from. He raised a brow and looked back at the other three, Marko was chewing on his thumb nail, closely watching the scene in front of him unfold. 

“Kitten?” David’s voice was probably the softest you ever heard, his eyes locking with yours once you were finally jolted from your daze “Hey are you okay?” You almost felt guilty, he looked so worried even with how little he showed it on his face, it was in his eyes. 

“Babe what’s wrong? Did someone do somethin’ to you?” Paul chimed, stepping closer to the couch cautiously. You still didn’t speak, mind still in a thick fog. “Babe?” Paul sounded worried too and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head up to look at him.

“I think something’s wrong guys.” Marko said from where he stood behind David. 

Paul let out a scoff “Yeah no shit, man.” You could practically hear him roll his eyes. 

Finally your mouth opened, prying your chapped lips apart and muttered a raspy “You forgot.” It felt like the littlest bits of energy were finally sinking back into your skin, allowing you to lift your head and look at your four worried boyfriends. “You forgot about our anniversary.” 

Their eyes widened almost comically after hearing you say that. A groan coming from Marko as he threw his head back, fingers knitting through his perfect curls “I told you guys there was something wrong tonight! I knew we forgot something!” Paul let out a long sigh and leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Dwayne finally got closer and kneeled himself down next to David. 

“Hey sweetheart…” He whispered, reaching out to gently take your hand in his colder one “We are so sorry. You gotta understand that we wouldn’t do this to you on purpose.” He squeezed your hand gently, looking back at the others. You knew that if you had any more tears left you would have probably started crying again. “We’re so sorry that we hurt you like this…” He brought his hand up to your chin and lifted your head up so he could look you in the eye standing up and bending over to bring his face closer to yours “Please let us make it up to you.” His hair was veiling over your face as he leaned in, almost shielding you from the outside world, his chilled lips met your cheek softly delivering the gentlest kiss you’ve probably ever received. 

“Yeah babe please let us make it up to you.” Paul practically begged. You turned your head stiffly to look at him, seeing how frantic he almost looked. 

“Would you like that?” Dwayne asked, voice soft as if he was telling you a secret. You couldn’t deny the tug on your heart when looking into his dazzling brown eyes, the desperation to earn your forgiveness all too evident. 

“Okay…” You whispered back, afraid to speak any louder.

---

The bonfire in front of you danced with the ocean breeze, a breeze that softly weaved through your hair and would have made you shiver if it wasn’t for the blanket David wordlessly wrapped around your shoulders. He sat next to you staring into the amber flames too, the yellows and oranges lighting his face up beautifully. The hollowness from your breakdown was finally beginning to melt away, a small smile creasing your lips before bitterly falling again.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered quietly, but not quietly enough as the rest of the group raised their heads and voiced their curiosity of what the hell you were apologizing for. “I was being a drama queen.” You chuckled humorlessly “You guys have told me so many times how hard it is to manage time as a vampire and I still got so worked up over something so stupid.” 

Marko was the first to shake his head and voice his opinion “Hell no, you’re not going to feel sorry for something that isn’t even your fault!” You looked at him from over the fire, his expression hardened “It’s us who should be sorry- who are sorry- not you. I’m not letting you blame yourself because you’re dating a set of dumbasses.” Paul nodded in agreement, not even trying to start some childish argument for being called a dumbass. 

“And it���s not stupid either. We’ve been together for a whole year, which is a long time to commit yourself to one person, let alone four vampires.” Dwayne chimed, soothing your remaining guilt. You gave him a grateful smile while David pulled you closer to him, arm slung around your shoulder and letting you lean against him.  

Silence had settled over the five of you again for a good ten seconds before you heard Paul yelp, making you jump. Marko had him pinned to the sand, their bodies both flailing as they wrestled. “Oh your ass is grass pipsqueak!” Paul threatened when Marko flew up into the air, Paul following closely, some sand falling back onto the ground below. David shook his head and chuckled as he watched the two rambunctious blondes play fight, growling and hissing at each other. 

“Children...” He muttered playfully smirking at you when you giggled. 

“Come on up guys!” Marko called a few feet above the fire, Paul pulling harshly on his hair making the shorter blonde let out a yelp of his own. 

“Yeah, how does it feel asshole!?” They pushed each other, flying in opposite directions before colliding again.

“Paul I will fucking dunk you in the ocean!” Marko threatened. 

David squeezed your side a little tighter “You wanna go for a ride princess?” He asked, eyes still locked on Paul and Marko. 

You felt yourself start to smile “Yeah I want some front row seats to this.” You shrugged the blanket from your shoulders and handed it to Dwayne who took it without a word. 

David gave you an encouraging squeeze before helping you stand up and kneeling down a little so you can jump onto his back. He tightened his grip on the backs of your thighs and told you to hold on tight, which you did. He slowly rose from the ground and you let out an excited giggle next to his ear, having gotten used to the heights of flying a long time ago. Marko and Paul’s petty argument got louder as you both got closer, they were punching and kicking and even clawing at each other like feral alley cats. 

“I’ll tie you to a tree and leave you there, fucking test me.” Paul seethed, you would have thought he was serious if you hadn’t known them, plus the wide smile on his face was an immediate giveaway. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah!” 

You squeezed your arms tighter around David’s neck and muttered next to his ear “I bet you ten vinyls Marko completely wastes Paul.” 

David let out a quiet snort and turned his eyes over to you “You’re on. If you lose you have to sleep over at the cave for a whole week.” You rolled your eyes at the counter before he continued “Let’s just say you won’t be getting much sleep if I win a kitten.” He winked at you and turned his head back just in time for Marko to grab a hold of Paul’s jacket harshly and began flying towards the ocean so fast you could barely see them. 

Paul screamed before hitting the water, not being able to catch himself as he was catapulted into the waves. He came to the surface with a string of colorful curses being thrown at Marko who was cackling loudly just above him, curling in on himself as he shook, looking as if he was laying down in midair. When Paul rose from the water you could practically see the steam rolling off of him as he grabbed Marko and brought him underwater. You were glad they were dead because Paul was literally forcing Marko to stay underwater while he laughed, traunting the curly haired blonde, watching as he thrashed the water around frantically. 

When Marko surfaced he let out a growl and was about to give Paul the same treatment but David calling out to them drew his attack short. “Come on boys! We don’t have time for your little drowning session, the sun’s gonna be up soon!” 

“You owe me ten records.” You pat David’s chest triumphantly and he hummed in response. 

“I guess I do.” He turned his head to the side and gave you a slow kiss, one that made your heart flutter in your chest and your cheeks heat up. 

Paul and Marko flew up slowly, Dwayne joining the four of you as well with your blanket still in his arms. The two blondes looked like wet dogs as they tried to shake the water from their hair, effectively spraying all of you with water. 

“Hey watch the jacket!” You half teased, wiping the droplets off onto David’s jacket which made him shake his head in slight annoyance. “You’ve had this jacket for years calm down.” 

---

The fly back to the cave wasn’t a long one, five minutes or less, but David knew you didn’t feel like walking all the way back and honestly neither did he. So the wind blew your hair from your face as he and the boys weaved playfully past each other, laughing and calling out into the night sky. You finally felt like yourself again, all the previous emotional exhaustion now replaced with a simmering happiness in your chest. You were still harboring a little anger at being so easily forgotten but that was a conversation for another night, right now you just wanted to enjoy yourself, flying through the sky without a care in the world before finally touching down on the cave floor next to the fountain. Most of the candles that were still lit before you all left had been blown out while you were gone. You looked around and watched as the boys all settled down, Marko lighting the barrels again and setting the torch inside to burn too. 

You settled yourself back down on the couch between Dwayne’s legs, his back against the arm of the sofa. He threw an arm over your chest and held you against him, settling a few soft kisses on your cheek. “You feeling like sleeping here tonight sweetheart?” noticing as you attempted to stifle a yawn. 

“Oh are we having a sleepover.” Paul teased with a wiggle of his brows. He leaned over the back of the sofa and tried to kiss you but a strand of his still wet hair smacked you in the face making you groan. 

“How are you still wet.” You chuckled, peeling the wet strand from your right cheek moving it behind his ear. 

“Blame it on that douchebag chihuahua.” He sent a playful glare in Marko’s direction who yelled out a defensive “Hey!” in response. 

You looked down at your watch and muttered a quiet ‘jesus christ’ at the time, 4:39am. You hadn’t even realized how late it had gotten, the night seemingly passing by in a haze while they were gone. 

Dwayne moved your hair over to your right shoulder “You can go ahead and sleep sweetheart.” His voice was soft in your ear, lips brushing against your neck as he kissed your neck softly. “I can take you to your nest, tuck you in and shit.” He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your back. You turned over on your side and snuggled closer to the tall vampire, your face buried in his neck.

The night may have had a much more than rocky start but in the end you were happy. You couldn’t stay mad at them, especially when they didn’t truly mean to hurt you. It was a mistake and they made up for it and will probably continue to do so for weeks. You knew what you were getting yourself into when they told you what they were, and you loved them even when the cons sometimes outweigh the pros, you were willing to go to the ends of the world for them and they were more than willing to do the same.  

---

Paul getting absolutely fucking dunked was inspired by the amazing @tweedracer​

Links to their stories here, please read them they’re amazing: 

POLY! LOST BOYS x HIPPIE VIBES READER by Tweetracer

[heyheydidjaknow]

Chapter 11

Guess who's back? Back again. Back three hours late, but back nonetheless. I'd feel more sorry if I was more sorry. This is officially the longest chapter as of now, so, yay. Someone challenged me to not swear for a chapter, and I believe I fulfilled that requirement. I'm just gonna go sleep.

Update: APPARENTLY, TUMBLR DOES THE TRANSFER FORMATTING THING ON LAPTOPS AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE RIGHT NOW SO MUCH. I usually do all my editing on my phone, so I knew no such luxury. I have never been more pissed. That is a lie, but my anger is still very genuine.

Chapter 11

“Where were you?”

The younger brother looks up at his senior. “Huh?”

“You were gone all night.” Leonardo leans against the door, crossing his arms. “Don’t look so surprised; I started getting up early to meditate.”

He shrugs in feigned nonchalance, already dreading the ensuing conversation. “Out.”

“And where’s ‘Out’?”

Donnie slides out of his chair, deciding his straining eyes need a break. “Just went to check on Y/N is all.” He rubs them with his arm, quietly noting the sounds of fighting in the dojo were starting to cease as he sits on the couch. His rounds of sparring with Leonardo were finished a little over an hour ago; a part of him is grateful it took him this long to corner him.

This got a raised brow. “You were checking on her for hours?”

He does not look him in the eye. “It’s not impossible.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“It wasn’t that late,” he argues.

“Donnie,” he presses, “you didn’t get home until five in the morning. Where were you?”

He feels his face heat up. “I said.”

Leo leans down to look his brother in the eye. “Final answer?”

He swallows a yawn. “Look, I know it was stupid—”

“I didn’t say it was stupid.”

“No,” he snips, mildly irritable from a lack of sleep. “You implied it.”

The doors to the dojo slide open, the disgruntled look on Raphael’s face all the evidence the other two need to know who won.

Mikey dives onto the couch, sprawling out next to his slightly older brother. “Did you ask yet?”

“I did.” He glances at the disgruntled boy. “Donnie was, apparently, at Y/N’s all night.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Details!” The small victor sits up, leaning forward on his knees in usual attentiveness. “Was she good?”

“What did you—shut up, Mikey.” Raph’s attention snaps back to his tallest brother. “What did you do to her? Did you—”

“Wait, hold on!” Donnie’s face feels uncomfortably hot. “N-Nothing happened!”

“Yeah, sure.” The second eldest rolls his eyes. “You think we fell off the truck yesterday? Who stays with a girl all night in her room without something happening? Nobody,” he cuts him off before he can defend himself.

The youngest’s voice rises over his brother’s before he can continue. “Dude, big picture!” He gestures to his brown-eyed brother. “He got with a girl first! He has valid info or whatever he says and stuff!”

“What are you two even talking about?” He wrings his hands. “Look, nothing happened!”

“Then what were you doing at her house,” Raphael eggs. “You weren’t just sitting there, right?”

“… no.”

“Then what were you doing there?”

He pauses, the two excitable boys waiting on bated breath. “She wanted me to spend the night,” he explains carefully, “because she was having bad nightmares and didn’t want to sleep alone.” He leans back, tossing his hands in the air. “That’s all.”

Silence falls.

“So,” clarifies Raphael, “you spent however many hours in her room, in her bed, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I—look!” The conversation is taking a shift for the worse. “I was trying to be nice! The last thing she needed was me doing whatever you’re insinuating!”

“He has a point,” Michelangelo nods knowingly. “Brownie points are key.”

“When did I say I was doing this for brownie points?”

“Look,” the eldest interjects. “Regardless of whether or not he was doing the ‘smart’ thing—” air quotes, “my bigger concern is that you didn’t bother calling to let us know where you were. You could’ve—Raph, do you have something to say?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you really gonna act like you wouldn’t do the exact same thing if it were you?”

The leader pauses. “Would you like to take this somewhere more private?”

“Sure.” A venomous smile curls Raph’s lips. “Dojo?”

“Bring it.”

As the two leave, Donnie looks back over at Mikey. “Okay,” he sighs, “did I miss something?”

A shrug. “Man," he grins brazenly, "bold of you to assume I follow half of the things you guys say.”

He pulls his T-Phone from his utility belt. “Do you think I did the right thing? Honestly?”

Another shrug. “I dunno.” He looks over his older brother’s shoulder, reading the text on the screen curiously. “Can’t have gone too bad, though, if you two’ve been textin’ all day.

He pushes his head away with his free hand. “It hasn’t been all day,” he corrects. “She just filled me in on this week’s episode and we just kept talking after that.” He smiles faintly. “Although, she did check to see if I got home alright.”

“Hey, that’s totally progress!” He grins encouragingly. “I mean, the bed thing was bigger progress, but this is also progress.”

You push through the turnstile with a bit of difficulty, hopping on your good leg as you pull the walker over the divider using your free hand with an embarrassing clatter. “Sorry,” you wince, feeling your face heat up as you slide down the railing. “I’m still getting used to—”

“Holy—are you alright?” The distress is apparent in the youngest’s voice as he sees you for the first time in a month. “You look like you—”

“I’m aware,” you cut him off dryly, holding a paper bag as you stumble over to the couch. “Whatever you’re about to say, I’m aware.” You put it down in Donnie’s lap. “Here.”

He blinks, picking it up as you regain your bearings. “What is it?”

“Not poison or snakes. Open it.”

“Yo,” Mikey interrupts, pointing at your banged-up leg, “can I draw on your white thing?”

It takes you a second to figure out what he is referring to. “Oh, you mean—yeah.” You lean your head back against the back of the couch. “Just know that I’ll take white-out to anything that could get me kicked out of school.”

“Deal!” He runs off to your room as his brother pulls the bag open, pulling the pastry from its confinement.

“What is it,” he repeats, icing already on his fingers.

“Cupcake.”

He fingers the wrapper, his brick stare seeming almost to dissect it. “What is it for?”

“Besides being messy?” You smile gently as you watch him try to figure it out, feeling your heart swell. “It’s food.”

“How much of it is edible?”

“Everything except the paper bit.”

He peels the liner back. “And how do you eat it, exactly?”

You lean forward on your arms. “The goal is to eat the frosting and the cake part at the same time, so however you accomplish that.”

He smiles sheepishly, eyes softening as he looks back at you. “Is it possible to eat it without the frosting getting on your face?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

He tentatively holds eye contact with you as he takes a bite, unsurprisingly getting icing sticking to the space around his upper lip. You wait tentatively as he licks the excess off, blinking in delighted surprise. “What’s in this, exactly?”

You feel yourself beam at his tone. “It’s nothing too special,” you shrug nonchalantly, bubbling with excitement. “It’s a personal favorite; red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”

He takes another bite. “Do you have more? Follow-up question,” you note his speech quickening, “can you make more?”

“Totally,” you nod in agreement. “I wanted to make you something as thanks for—”

“Back!”

Donnie shoves the rest of it in his mouth as soon as you two hear him.

“Sorry for the wait; I couldn’t find my stuff.” He plops down with a cardboard box filled with various discarded art supplies. “I’d use spray paint, but he—” he nods to his brother, currently trying to choke the rest of the cupcake down—“said I’m not allowed because of fumes or somethin’, so.”

“Fair.” You allow him to drape your calf over his legs, digging into the cardboard box he was carrying and pulling out a pencil. “Got any plans?”

“You’ll see,” he grins, starting to sketch shapes out.

The taller of the two wipes the excess frosting off his fingers. “Oh,” he snaps his fingers, “when you two are done with that, Y/N, I still gotta do that physical.”

“Physical?”

He clears his throat in preparation for a very redundant explanation. “A physical,” he explains calmly to his over-excited brother, “as in a physical examination, not whatever you’re thinking of.”

He blinks. “Like a doctor’s visit?”

“Donnie was asking about my recovery time,” you add helpfully. “Apparently, it’s weirdly long, but I don’t have any weird medical problems, so he wanted to see what the deal was.”

“That, and your comment about how ‘insanely high’ we jump, apparently.”

“Do not air quote that!” You lean your head back to look at him, hair falling onto his lap. “Not when you guys put high jumping to shame.”

He adamantly avoids eye contact, face warming. “It’s not that high,” he mumbles. “Especially if we’re bringing a sport like high jumping into this.”

“I respectfully disagree.” You lay your head down properly, looking up at him from his thighs. “Considering your falling form, it is a miracle you still have working hips.”

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It doesn’t include a parachute.”

“Okay,” Mikey interjects, “it may not last unless you cover it with something. Just, FYI.”

You lean your head up to look at him. “Noted,” you nod. “I’ll pick up varnish or something on my way home.”

He nods. “Oh,” he asks innocently, “mind turning over? I have to get the other side and I don’t want to hurt you.”

For some inexplicable reason, the boy you are currently laying on looks as though someone has put a gun to his head.

You do as asked with a bit of difficulty, bringing your knee closer to your chest as it is now closest to the back of the couch. “Like that?”

“Perfect. Thanks.”

You look up at Donnie. “Let me know if you need me to move,” you smile. “If your thighs go numb or anything.”

His voice is oddly tight. “You’re good.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Sure? You sound very uncomfortable.”

“Never better.”

“He’s alright,” Mikey reassures you, shooting a thumbs up at his brother behind your back.

“...Alright.” Your eyes focus absentmindedly on what you thought was a couch cushion; upon further inspection, it appears to be a repurposed training mat. You bring the arm not currently pinned to your side under your head, humming an earworm softly.

The boy currently under you is silently panicking as your fingers squeeze gently around his knee, making a conscious effort to stare at the television and only at the television with his hands hovering awkwardly over you. Surprisingly enough, out of the corner of his eye, he does not catch his younger brother trying to stare at you weirdly, sincerely focused on drawing.

You feel him, eventually, resting his hands down, one resting in between your shoulder blades, the other in your hair, twisting a lock of it around his fingers gently. “Still alright,” you ask.

His voice is almost airy, now. “Mhm.”

‘This is nice.’ You trace little designs into the mat as your mind begins to wander, the boys starting to talk about something you struggle to pay attention to. This is not the closest you have been to him physically, but it is nice not to be crying this time around. "Domestic, almost, even if he doesn't think so.’

‘I should learn how to braid.’ Braiding is not something he has necessarily needed to know how to do in the past, but as he wraps the fibers around themselves, curious about the texture, he wishes that he knew; using your hair as a material of sorts would certainly be interesting, and he knows he has the dexterity for it. Admittedly, the conversation is less of a conversation and more of a speech on his brother’s part, but he tries to pay attention.

“So,” Mikey continues, digging into the box and pulling out a pencil sharpener, “he’s watching this guy all stealth-like, right? The guy’s out here, giving out his plans like they’re candy or whatever, and he’s just kinda recording it on one of those little tape recorders you used for that one thing a couple weeks ago-- you know the ones, and-- you don’t mind spoilers-- long story short, the guy gets caught, and when the crew got there, he was totally messed up.”

“Sounds like Batman,” you mumble sleepily-- ‘He really is warm.’

“Huh?”

“Your story.” You hoist yourself up, looking over your shoulder back at him. “Sounds like this Batman cartoon.”

“Batman?”

“Universe…” you stifle a yawn. “My universe has this thing called Batman, and there's a crossover thing in a different iteration of this universe. I guess you wouldn’t know about that, would you?”

“Different iteration?” Donatello looks down at your head in his lap, desperately in need of a cold shower.

You feel Michelangelo bend your leg forward. You nod in confirmation, trying to will yourself awake. “Didn’t I… did I?” You lay your head back down properly. “You guys are, like… mega-famous down-- back-- there.”

“I’m not sure if you did.”

“Well,” you giggle sleepily, “you are.” You try to count on your fingers. “You’ve got the original comic, the old cartoon, the two-thousand three animated show, the CGI movie, this one, the two live-action movies, the twenty-eighteen animated one-- gorgeous animation by the by that I have to show you later, Mikey-- that crossover movie with Batman, the live-action show, the other, older live-action movie, the IDW comic series, that weird one with the hats-- there’s a ton.”

“Dude, that is sick!” The resident artist grins. “I bet they were awesome.”

You consider telling him about the IDW comic. You quickly decide against it.

“How long have we-- as a property-- existed, exactly?”

“I dunno.” You shrug. “The first animated show was the eighties, I think.”

“...huh.”

You notice him fiddling with your hair, finally. You don’t mind.

“It’s been too long.”

You freeze, suddenly very awake and painfully aware of your current position.

One of the few good things about having your own apartment: you seem to have forgotten the fear of being walked in on.

“Please, relax.” You hear his smile. It does not help matters. “Don’t let me interrupt.”

The other two, astonishingly, do not seem nearly as anxious as you are.

You look up at him from your spot on his son’s lap. “You look as healthy as ever.” ‘I miss my grandpa. Is Grandma okay?’ You were unable to find your relatives on your father’s side through social media-- they could be dead for all you know.

“No thanks to my diet,” he chuckles. Yoshi walks out of your field of view. “Don’t mind me; how long have they been in the dojo?”

“Half an hour?” You hear the jostling of the box and the snap of an uncapped pen.

You hear him sigh. “Let’s just hope nobody’s died,” he mutters, walking into the dojo.

The three of you strain your ears to-- unsuccessfully-- hear what is going on. The door snaps open as the two brothers leave together in heated silence.

Mikey shakes what you can now identify as a paint pen. “Who won?”

“Nobody.” Leo’s voice, snippy. “Is she out?”

“She is not.” You turn your arm awkwardly to wave back at him.

“Then,” he shrugs, “nice to see you.”

“Likewise.”

“So,” Raph interjects, apparently very interested in the current situation, “can someone please explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

“I’m painting her white thing.”

“Of course. Donnie?”

The mortification would be apparent if you were looking at him.

“Nothin? Okay then.” You shut your eyes as he sits down on the other side of you. “You look terrible. Nice scar.”

“I am too close to very sensitive areas for you to give me a hard time, Raphael,” you warn.

“Whatever.”

“I’m heading out.” Leo nonchalantly bounds the steps, hopping over a divider.

“Tell her I say hi,” you call back. “Remember, consent is key, yellow roses lead to friendzoning, and to always use a condom.”

“... No comment.” He runs off.

“I have so many questions.”

“Ask me later.”

It takes him about twenty more minutes to finish covering the entirety of your cast in brightly colored characters and objects; if you have to describe it, you will say that the style is contemporary pop illustration with composition reminiscent of the renaissance period if the single art class you have taken is serving you right.

“This,” you smile, a little misty-eyed for some reason, “is absolutely gorgeous. Thanks, Mikey.”

He beams. “You’re totally welcome! If you ever get more white things, I’ll draw on those too, if you want.”

“Dude, for sure.” You nod in agreement, looking back at Donnie. “Isn’t it cool?”

Donatello has been quietly jabbed at for the past twenty minutes and is mostly desensitized to the quality of his brother’s art; frankly, it is not his area, and he cannot judge it one way or the other. Despite this, he gives his brother a thumbs up. “Very.”

“Don’t stroke his ego so much,” teases their older brother. “Donnie’ll get jealous.”

“Hate to steal her from you all,” he interrupts, “but I still have a physical to do, so if you would be so kind as to shut up, that would be great.”

‘Green with envy. Is that racist? No clue. Pretty colors.’ Donnie is talking to you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you were still on board.”

You nod. “Mind grabbing my walker?”

He shoots his snickering brother a glare. “Want me to just carry you to the lab?”

Panic. Immediate panic. “You sure you can carry me?”

He shrugs, smiling. “It’s only a few feet. Besides,” he points out, “aren’t you the one always going on about how strong we are by normal standards?”

You do not have a rational way to explain why the idea of being off of solid ground, held up by someone who can potentially drop you, is distressing. You also do not want to insult him in any shape, way, or form. “Promise you won’t drop me?” Your stomach turns.

“Swear it.”

“Can I paint your walker while you guys are doing that?”

“Of all the things you could've chosen--”

“Lay off.” He offers his arms. “You can trust me, I promise.”

You pause. The statement is entirely true, but your gut is screaming at you not to do that. The same gut told you that slamming your body into the person driving the car you were tied up in was a good idea.

You latch your arms around his neck, burying your eyes in the crook of his neck as to not see when and in what direction he is moving you. “Please,” you mumble, trying not to blatantly beg, “do not drop me.”

He does not exactly understand why you are clinging to him so tightly, but he is hardly one to complain. He slides an arm under your knees, picking you up.

Raphael is heckling you. You are more concerned with your body inaccurately telling you that you are going to die from this. Tears prick your eyes as you try to breathe.

He looks down at you, mind wandering as he walks away from his brothers. You look so sweet to him, shaking like a leaf in his arms. Cute. He had thought the same thing when you had started clinging to him during that movie forever ago, when you held his hand last night and pulled him back onto the bed with you. You are not normally openly vulnerable and, although he is hardly one to talk about vulnerability, it is always a sight to behold.

“Please don’t drop me.” He is not exactly sure if you are aware of your own, almost silent begging as you repeat the phrase over and over. ‘You trust me.’ His heart melts.

It takes no time to get you to his lab. He sets you down on a chair, but you do not seem to understand that as you still cling tightly to his neck.

He chuckles nervously. “I need my body to perform the physical, Y/N.”

You were not aware he had put you down. Your eyes snap open as you let your shaking, iron grip relax. “Sorry,” you mumble, face going a gorgeous shade of pink.

“No prob.” ‘Prob?’ His face changes color to match yours.

“So.” He claps his hands together just a bit too hard, slamming the door closed when he hears his brothers’ snickering. “Let’s get started.”

--

You sit on your couch, applying another coat of varnish to your cast as you listen to a cooking show because something something exposure therapy. Also, listening to people scream at one another about food textures is soothing.

Your results were not surprising to you; by the standards of humans in this universe, you are a walking talking coma patient. It was a bit funny, watching him freak out about a blood pressure that you knew-- through the help of google-- was completely normal. You are fine for the most part, if he was using the tools given correctly, and so, you are currently preoccupied with making sure the gorgeous painting on your fiberglass prison is going to stay gorgeous. The only thing he had insisted on, really, was that you not cook, after seeing your crudely applied bandages on your fingers.

You lean back into an actual couch, pulling out your phone and scrolling through pictures of gloves again. You are determined to find a good pair; the deep scars on your hands are not fading any time soon.

You can hear the window slide open. “If you’re planning on killing me--” you stop when you look up to see the look on Donnie’s face. “Something up?”

He says absolutely nothing, leaning his staff against the wall, closing the window in a daze and he stands next to the sofa. “Are you busy?”

“No.”

“Good.” His eyes glance at the space next to you. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“As long as you like.”

He lays his head on your lap as he sits down, staring blankly at the television screen. He immediately understands why you like this-- your thighs are incredibly soft.

You immediately understand why he was awkward. You have no idea where to put your hands, but you eventually settle on his head as you turn the volume down. “What’s up?”

He takes a deep breath, licking his teeth as he sighs. “I,” he explains, “just realized what my reality is right now and I-- okay, I know this sounds stupid--”

“Not at all.”

“It does,” he insists. “I know it sounds stupid because I realized it did when I was working it out, but I just-- hear me out, okay?” His voice oozes exhaustion.

“I’m hearing you.” You listen to him, laying your phone face down on the coffee table. “Hit me.”

He takes another breath. “I just fought a giant… thing.” He rolls over, looking up at you. “Mikey called it Jacob or something, and it was about twenty feet tall and it looked like something out of a monster movie and it destroyed us in a fight.” You hear his voice rising, and you just nod along, letting him talk. “It wiped the floor with us. And the only reason it existed was that Leo, apparently, got a girlfriend named Karai-- you know her?”

“Hot alt chick with the wicked eyeshadow and eyeliner that could kill?” You nod. “Yeah, I’m familiar.”

“Her-- wait, should I…?” He trails off, shakes his head. “Another time.” He covers the side of his face with his hand, gesturing animatedly with his other. “Anyways, apparently he met this girl because she wanted to do a heist with him-- this girl, working for the Foot, of all people-- sixteen or whatever-- she goes and just touches a button to mix the DNAs of all the creatures an alien race could find on Earth, and then bails.” He realizes he is shouting, lowers his voice. “The alien creatures, in case you forgot, that look like brains and waddle around on tentacles which, by the way, makes no evolutionary sense whatsoever, decided to create a button that mixes the entirety of their samples of DNA together in a smorgasbord of wrong, okay?”

“Uhuh.” You nod along. You know what he means, even if the word he used was technically not correct.

“This thing,” he continues, officially ranting, “destroyed a building! It set the whole thing on fire, which was probably only Kraang, but also maybe had normal people in it, which is concerning.” He rubs his eyes aggressively. “So, to recap, an alienish creature named Jason or whatever got created by Leo’s crush and destroyed a building and that was just what happened today!” He raises his hands in the air, almost accidentally hitting you in the face. “I didn’t bat an eye at this!”

“Man, I feel you.”

“And I understand,” he continues, “the irony of telling you this, considering I am a giant, talking turtle created by the very same mutagen that created Justin or whatever its stupid name was, was taught ninjutsu by my ninja master father who is also a rat, and that you have already previously died--”

“All very bizarre things,” you agree.

“-- but this is just…” he sighs. “My life is getting so… weird? It was already weird, I know, but more so than I thought it reasonably should be.”

You wipe a bit of oil you notice on his cheek off with your thumb. “This world is a weird one,” you admit.

His voice is lower now as he follows your hand with his eyes. “I…” He takes breath. “I just wish we were more normal, you know? That our lives were more normal, that our existences made more sense, you know?”

You cup his face in your hand gently, remembering how your mother used to do the same for you. “I do.”

You feel him leaning into your touch. “I wish,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “that I was a normal, human teenager who went to school and didn’t know how to use a bo staff and had three, normal brothers who could try to get girlfriends without worrying about whether or not they wanted to kill them.”

You sigh, running your thumbs along the edge of his eye socket, feeling the soft skin shift under you. “You’re very well adjusted for a teenager trained in the art of assassination,” you joke softly.

He chuckles dryly, closing his eyes. “My mother is an empty canister in a locked cabinet in the kitchen.” He exhales slowly. “My stepmom was murdered by a man now actively trying to murder me and my entire family because of a decades long feud. Well adjusted is probably the highest compliment you could give me.”

“I’ve given you higher.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” You glance up at the television screen, then back at him. “You’re holding up better than I am, and you’ve been fearing for your life since you were real little.”

“Apples and oranges.” He rests his hand on yours.

“Look,” you shrug, “the way I see it, life is a series of events that all string together to the present.”

“Butterfly effect.”

“Exactly.” You smile down at him. “And if things didn’t happen exactly as they did, we never would’ve met, the world would be totally screwed, and we would be missing out on one of the greatest minds on the planet.”

He looks to see if you are being serious.

You are.

“You also wouldn’t have a broken leg and messed up hands,” he points out ruefully.

“Meeting you was worth it.”

He reaches up, running his fingers along the scar on your face. “I disagree.”

“It’s my body, and my physical detriment. It doesn’t matter if you’re stupid enough to think it wasn’t worth it.”

You feel his body relax

You two shut up for a bit, watching the show absentmindedly.

After a while, he pipes up. “It’s alright if you say no,” he starts tentatively, “but is it alright if I stay here again tonight?”

“Will your brothers mind?”

“They don’t care so long as I’m home before sunrise,” he shrugs. “I just like it here. Smells better.”

You smile brightly. “Sure,” you agree easily. “I sleep better with you here, anyways; I don’t worry about people sneaking in through the window.” You check the varnish. “I just have to wait for this to dry the rest of the way, first. You’re free to go to bed without me, though.”

In all honesty, you’re just happy not to be alone.

He nods, standing up and drawing the curtains. He sits down on the bed, untying the mask behind his head. ‘I could get used to this.’ He smiles slightly, slipping a hand into his utility belt and texting his brothers where he was to avoid his brother’s scolding in the morning. He slips that off too, dropping both onto the side of the bed and starting on the wraps on his feet and hands; he had learned his lesson when he had gotten up morning before, having gotten a few hours sleep at home, to large, noticeable indentations in his flesh where the foreign objects had been.

You glance over. “Do those go in the wash?”

He looks back. “Not usually, no.”

“Do you want me to wash them?”

‘You are too considerate.’ He shakes his head. “It’s alright.”

You shrug, putting your hands up. “Suit yourself.” You cross your hands across your stomach, staring absentmindedly back at the screen. “You can use the shower in the morning, but please do not use all of the hot water. Fridge is open if you need breakfast.”

“Nah,” he sighs, slipping the clothes into his utility belt. “I’ll eat at home.”

You nod in acknowledgement.

It occurs to him as he sets his knee and elbow pads with the rest of his things that, technically, he is stripping in front of you, and you are not batting an eye. As soon as that clocks, it also dawns on him that you are showing the most skin he has ever seen-- an A-shirt and gym shorts-- which had not even registered until he was laying in your bed. You are relaxed and in your warm apartment, watching a television program with him in your bed. You are awake and absolutely gorgeous and you feel safer with him of all people.

His heart swells as he slides under the blankets, the sound of the television white noise at this point.

You glance back at him, the phrase “Snug as a bug in a rug," coming to mind as you look over at him, struggling to keep his eyes open. “You gonna fall asleep?”

His face warms. He nods. "It's been a really long day," he admits.

“Then goodnight,” you smile. “Sweet dreams.”

He smiles sleepily. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he shuts his eyes.

You swallow.

You forgot how much you missed this.

Table of Contents

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

[cafedanslanuit]

summer love || kirishima x reader

pairing; kirishima eijirou x reader

genre; fluff, because we all need some from time to time <3

words; 3k

summary; nobody understood why kirishima endured bakugou’s harsh way of tutoring when he had you. the few times his friends had met you, you seemed to be nice and patient. and they were correct; in fact, that was the main reason he avoided studying with you.

.❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 .❀。• *₊°。

“Hurry up, I don’t have time to spare” Bakugou grunted, staring at his friend as he struggled to put all his things on his backpack.

It had been a long and stressful day, full of revisions. The next day they were having their third-year midterms and Kirishima was determined not to repeat the past mistakes of his first year. This was his third year, the last chance he had to not end up with the worst grades of his class and he was going to take it, even if he had to submit himself to a round of extremely focused studying with his best friend.

“Why don’t you study with your girlfriend?” Kaminari asked him, a grin on his face. “I heard she has really good grades at 3-B”

“Who did you hear it from, your boyfriend?” Mina teased him, making the blonde blush.

“Shinsou’s not my boyfriend!”

“Yet” she laughed.

“He’s got a point, though,” Sero shrugged, looking over at Kirishima. “Why do you endure Bakugou if you have the option of seeing your girl and letting her help you? She seemed nice.”

“Because if I’m in 3-A it means I’m the fucking best option he has” Bakugou retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, but you’re mean,” Kaminari said, leaning on the frame of the door. “That’s why people prefer Momo’s tutoring sessions”

“And that’s what makes them fucking extras”

“Is Kirishima’s girlfriend really worse than this?” Sero interjected, making Mina laugh.

“She’s not bad at all” Kirishima assured him. “She’s really nice and patient but we decided a long time ago studying together wasn’t for us” he smiled, scratching the back of his head.

“Why not?” Mina asked, a curious look on her face.

“Kirishima, let’s go,” Bakugou said, standing up and heading towards the classroom’s door. Knowing Bakugou knew the real reason behind his refusal to study with you, Kirishima was thankful he gave him an out. He finally closed his backpack and followed him, hearing how his friends were debating now how could his girl possibly be worse than Bakugou.

And the truth was, you weren’t. Both Sero and Kirishima were right, you had really good grades in 3-B and you were really patient with your boyfriend but, as he said, you were both in the same page about not studying together.

It all had started on the entrance exams for your third year. Kirishima and you had started dating the summer between your second and third year, after realizing the agency you were doing your internship at was in front of FatGum’s. There was a convenience store located close to both buildings and after running into each other many times, you had ended up making plans to purposely meet and go for a stroll downtown after both of you were done with work. You both knew each other from U.A. but never had a chance to talk as much as you did over that summer.

Those days you spent together you learnt he had one of the cutest smiles you had ever seen and that not only did he have a really strong quirk, but also was really determined about what kind of hero he wanted to be. Kirishima loved to tell you stories about SunEater and FatGum, and every chance they have had to fight together against a villain. You knew SunEater as you had run into him at the same store multiple times, but every time you said hello to him, he would mumble something you couldn’t quite catch and leave the store. Still, you admired how much he had grown as a hero since the days you saw him walking by the hallways of U.A.

One of the days you were waiting for him in front of the convenience store for one of you walks, Kirishima ran late. You didn’t mind waiting, but you wondered if something had happened to him. After twenty minutes of waiting, you saw him running down the street, waving at you from afar. You smiled at him as he finally stopped in front of you, panting from the run.

“I’m so sorry for making you wait!”

“It’s no problem, it wasn’t long” you assured him. “Where were you? I can’t believe you’re this tired from running a block from your agency”

“Yeah, about that” Kirishima started, scratching the back of his head. “We helped stop a villain at a movie complex the other day and they gave Tamaki-senpai and me a coupon for a free ticket. Today, he told me he really didn’t want to use his so I thought maybe we could go watch a movie together if you’d like?” he offered, a doubtful look on his face.

“I’d really like that” you smiled. “Still don’t get the running, though” you added, tilting you head to the side.

“Yeah well, he had his ticket back home so we had to ask FatGum for permission to leave earlier so we could go to his house to pick up his coupon but... the train ride took longer than I thought” he excused himself. You shook your head.

“No worries. Thanks for thinking about me for using your coupons!” you thanked him, looping your arm around his and walking towards the movie complex.

As you both walked, falling into casual conversation, you tried to hide your grin at how much Kirishima was blushing since you had taken his arm. Once you reached your destination, he let you pick the movie and bought popcorn and some sweets for the both of you. You paid for the drinks and guided him to your seats as he carried the tray with everything you had bought.

As the movie progressed, you let your mind wander if this was really one of your casual strolling dates or if Kirishima was actually interested in you. Asking directly would be too blunt, so you decided to try your luck. He was sitting on your right, holding the popcorn bucket between the both of you. When you noticed Kirishima put his hand inside to grab some popcorn, you did the same, softly grazing your fingers against his hand, your eyes fixated on the screen to make it seem casual. He didn’t seem to notice, taking popcorn to his mouth while looking at the screen as well. You tried this two more times before surrendering.

For your next move, you leaned your shoulder against his, again not looking at him, wondering if he would take the sign and put his arm around you. When ten minutes went by and he hadn’t moved a muscle, you rolled your eyes. Okay, so maybe you had misinterpreted his signals and this was just a friendly date. Sighing, you put your hand on the popcorn bucket and realized you were more than half-way done with them. Maybe you could get a refill? Just when you were grabbing some popcorn with your fingers, a jump scare appeared on the screen, making you gasp in fear and put both your hands in front of your face, throwing the popcorn bucket on Kirishima’s chest and lap in the way.

Once you came down from your fright, you looked over at your friend and realized he was covered with popcorn.

“I’m so sorry!” you whispered, dusting off the popcorns of his chest and he got rid of the ones of his lap with a small laugh.

“It’s okay! You were really scared, huh?” he teased you, making your whole face burn. You put the popcorn back to the bucket, even if it meant you couldn’t eat them anymore. A refill was definitely necessary now. “Thought you like horror films”

“I do, I really do, it just took me off guard. Had my mind elsewhere” you admitted with an apologetic smile. Kirishima turned to you and with an arched eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. His new angle let you notice he had popcorn on his hair as well.

“Really? What’s on your mind?”

Not really wanting to answer his question, you started picking the popcorn left on his hair, making sure to be as meticulous as you could. When you were finally done, your eyes wandered down to his, finally realizing you had gotten really close to Kirishima’s face. You parted your lips to say something, but words never managed to get out. Confused, you blinked, wondering why he hadn’t pulled away but was still looking straight into your eyes. The small part of you that still had hope and was pleasantly rewarded when Kirishima pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was soft, almost as he wasn’t sure you would kiss him back. When you moved your lips against his, Kirishima smiled, making your heart melt. You let the popcorn you had in your hands fall to the floor as your left hand flew to his right cheek, holding it tenderly as the kiss continued. A few minutes later, you pulled away and smiled. When he grinned back at you, you knew there was no way in hell anyone could keep you away from that boy.

Until entrance exams happened.

It wasn’t like the time you both auditioned to enter U.A., but rather a theory-based exam to help you remember the past year. Knowing Kirishima had difficulty with those, you offered to tutor him. Spending time with him always brightened up your day, so you figured this way you both could be productive while also having each other close.

That Sunday afternoon, you were both sitting in his bedroom’s floor, planning on revising all the topics seen in second year so the next day both of you could get a good grade. Kirishima had bought some snacks for both of you and you had put music on low volume to make you both feel more comfortable as you studied.

“Babe” you started, flipping through Kirishima’s old second-year notebook. “Why are there notes saying ‘fucking idiot’ after an exercise done wrong? I know Aizawa-sensei is harsh, but I don’t think he’s--”

“Oh, no, no” he interrupted you. “Those are from Bakugou. He has a different method for teaching” he explained with a smile. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I got that when he didn’t make an effort in learning my name when you introduced me”

“Red’s chick isn’t that bad considering I used to be shitty hair” Kirishima reasoned.

“But I love your hair!” you pouted, running your fingers through his hair and he smiled. He leaned over and filled your face with small kisses, making you laugh like a little kid. When he was over, you pressed a kiss on his nose.

“C’mon, we have a lot of studying to do” you reminded him, earning a playful whine from your boyfriend.

“I know, but this is the last day of summer. Can’t believe we won’t have as much time together as we did before. We’ll have school every morning, our internships in the afternoon and will end up with no energy”

“We’ll still have the weekends. Don’t worry, we’ll make it work” you assured him, taking his hand into yours. His scowl turned into a soft smile and you fell on his lips once more. You playfully bit his bottom lip and chuckled against his mouth. “We have to start studying now”

“Fine” Kirishima sighed, pulling away and resting his back on his bed. “How do you wanna do this?”

“How did Bakugou do it?” you asked. “It helped you before, right?”

“Uhm… he basically just hit me until I got the correct answer” Kirishima admitted, scratching the back of his head. You blinked twice, waiting for the punchline that never came. Pursing your lips, you took your notebook and opened it.

“Okay, how about I ask you a question and if you get it right, I give you a kiss?” you proposed, making him grin widely.

“That works!”

And it did work. At least for the first five questions, because after giving him his reward, you both ended up momentarily forgetting your plans for the afternoon. Lazy kisses were shared while snuggling on the floor, and even you ended up turning the music a little louder. Kirishima took the chance to take a couple of selfies of the both of you, as a souvenir from your last summer day together.  Even if the definition of summer love was one that was destined to end as the seasons changed, Kirishima was going to make sure that wasn’t the case for you.

As the young man lying underneath you blew raspberries on your cheek, you couldn’t think of any other place you wanted to be. You knew the idea of Kirishima being everything that was good in the world was part of the honeymoon phase, but somehow, it didn’t feel like any time you have fallen in love before. A part of you knew the risks of trying to carry out a relationship on top of your other responsibilities, knew it was almost childish to think it would be easy to do so and that you’d probably be better off focusing solely on strengthening your quirks. Never the less, to your surprise, most of the time you couldn’t help but feel giddy every time you thought about the hero known as Red Riot.

“Hey, weren’t we supposed to be studying?” you teased him, resting your chin on his chest.

“What time is it?”

You checked your phone. “It’s 6:40 p.m. already.”

“Okay, then let’s start at 7 pm. It’s better that way” Kirishima said, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“How does that make sense?” you laughed.

“You have to admit starting at 7 has a better ring to it than starting at 6:40” he argued with an innocent shrug. You rolled your eyes playfully at him and kissed his cheek.

“Fine” you obliged. “But let’s make some tea so we have everything ready when we start”

The electric kettle beeped when the water boiled but was ignoed as you and Kirishima started dancing on the kitchen to the music on his phone, showing each other your favourite songs. You began playing around with the filters on your Instagram app, uploading embarrassing stories of the two of you making funny faces to your social media. Kirishima remember he had seen a video on your Instagram account when you were dancing to a happy song, so he insisted you taught him the steps, even if you insisted it was a trend and you had just imitated the dance. Laughter filled the room as he struggled to follow you, making up his own choreography along the way.

Your eyes darted to the clock on the upper side of your screen and gasped.

“Eijirou, we haven’t done anything all afternoon!” you told him, your eyes filled with worry. “I have to head back home soon, please let’s do some revision now”

“It’s difficult to do so when I have such a lovely girlfriend as you” he winked, making you smile. “We have to boil water again though, it chilled while we waited”.

“Fine, but then we’re studying,” you said, pointing your finger at him. Kirishima opened his mouth and bit the air near your finger playfully. Your loud laugh was muffled when he hugged you tightly against his chest.

Hours later, as you walked home, you felt guilty Kirishima hadn’t studied nearly as enough as he needed to. You did manage to go over the main topics but you knew he probably needed more. You asked him to please try and study on his own after you left, and he promised to do his best. You had no doubts he would try but wasn’t as sure he would succeed.

Unfortunately, you were proven right days later. The results came and Kirishima was, once again, on the bottom of the class. You excused yourself for not being more firm the night you tried to study together, but he was hearing none of it.

“It’s not your fault, babe! I played a part too. I guess I lose track of time whenever we’re together,” he explained, as you both made your way to the train station after your internship. You both were tired but had made a pact to at least walk together to the station two times a week after you were done with your respective jobs. 

“I know, but I’m still sad you scored so low. Maybe we’re not meant to study together” you reasoned, a small pout on your lips. Kirishima threw his arm around your shoulder and chuckled.

“Maybe, but we’re great for everything else,” he said, his bright and confident smile making you fall for him for the millionth time. You put your arm around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh.

“But you do need help for the mid-terms. Bakugou’s helped you before, do you think he’ll do it again?”

“Yeah, no doubt about it! He’s really cool, even if he’s angry all the time” Kirishima assured you.

“Sure, babe” you laughed and rolled your eyes playfully.

Kirishima still remembered your laugh months later, as he walked alongside Bakugou, ready to study for his third-year midterms. They were heading to the diner they used to study at, which was a few blocks from U.A.. It was a good studying spot since Bakugou could be as loud as he wanted without being kicked out (as they were once from the school library). Bakugou was on his phone, barking back at who seemed to be his mother. Kirishima was surprised he was able to hear the woman’s loud voice from afar. Imitating his friend, he unlocked his phone as well, being welcomed by your smile on his wallpaper. He smiled back and then locked it again.

If he wanted to be a better hero, Kirishima knew he had to refrain from studying with you and getting distracted. Even if he’d rather have you snuggling close to him than feeling his head hurt as he tried to comprehend math questions, he would do anything he had to do to be the best he could be. Before he met you, he wanted to be someone who could save people, but now, there was a part of him that also wanted to make you proud. As proud as he always was of you.

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Antimatter | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

WC: 2486

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR 13X15, general Criminal Minds things (mentions of violence, shootings, robberies, death, etc)

This is part of my Galaxy Universe (MASTERLIST). You don’t need to read anything prior to this to understand this fic, though it may help! 

You thought your little found family had finally found some reprieve after a long year of difficulties. Spencer was reinstated, Mr. Scratch was dead, Matt Simmons joined the team, and everything seemed like it was returning to your normal crime fighting routine.

As it turns out, you were wrong.

You didn’t think twice about following Spencer out of the round table room. You were loyal to your team, and Assistant Director Linda Barnes was not going to snuff the mojo out of these people that you loved so much.

You caught up to Spencer in the bullpen, where he was shoving books into his bag. He didn’t look up when you slid onto his desk.

You waited a minute before speaking, “what’s our plan?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” you were quick to follow him to the elevator.

“We need to come up with a plan before you leave, Spence,” you knew what he had just done was risky but it was the right move and you stood by your decision to follow him. You also knew that the problem wasn’t going to be solved without some other course of action, however.

“I can’t go back there. I’m not working with her scrutinizing our every move.”

“So don’t. Stay here and figure out how we’re going to get her out of our hair. Emily might know something that we don’t, she just had a bunch of meetings with Barnes, right?” You didn’t like how tense this conversation was becoming. You were currently on the same page as Spencer, that much you knew, but he could read 20,000 words per minute and it was going to take a lot for you to keep up with the pace his brain was working.

“Emily’s suspended,” you could tell he was thinking hard about what steps to take next.

“Go to her place and let her know what’s happening. Distancing yourself from Barnes is the best move before you get yourself fired.”

“What about you?” The elevator dinged to signal it’s arrival. Spencer stepped inside, holding the doors open.

“I’m going to go with the team. We need boots on the ground to figure out exactly what her plan in action looks like. I’ll be a centralized point for info about how she’s targeting everyone and get you it as quickly as I can.”

“Good luck,” he gave you a sad excuse for a smile.

“Go get Emily, I’ll be ok.” You watched the doors close, then walked back towards the round table room. You straightened your posture before opening the door and positioning yourself next to JJ. The rest of the team gave you some very strange looks that you tried to ignore.

“Will you be joining us, Agent (y/l/n)?” Barnes asked, almost as if she expected you to say no.

“I will, thanks,” you showed no weakness, making direct eye contact with her. She didn’t push further, instead confirming JJ’s ‘Wheel’s Up’ and leaving the room.

You spent the entire trip to St. Louis avoiding questions from the rest of the team about what had happened when you and Spencer left the briefing.

In a moment of quiet on the jet, JJ approached you while you were getting coffee.

“Were you able to talk to Spence before he left?” She asked in a hushed whisper, back to the rest of the plane.

“Yeah,” you said slowly, eyes flickering to where Barnes was staring the two of you down, “I’ll tell you about it later, it’s best that you don’t know for now. Trust us on this?”

JJ nodded, “let me know what you need, I’ll make sure it happens.”

You arrived in St. Louis and watched as Barnes demeaned the local PD, undermined the procedural profiling, and intentionally paired herself off with each member on your team. It was only a matter of time before she got to you.

You had been purposely avoiding her, instead collecting tidbits of information from your coworkers about their conversations with her that were unrelated to the case at hand. You intentionally stayed behind to work victimology when she finally cornered you in the conference room.

“You’re loyal to a fault, Agent (y/l/n),” she wasted no time addressing you.

“Excuse me?” You chose to not look up from the crime scene photos.

“Following Agent Reid out of the office this morning was a bold choice,” she tried to assert herself into your space, something you weren’t about to allow.

“I don’t see how my loyalty is a fault. I could see that Doctor Reid was unwell and I wanted to make sure he was ok.”

“You were suspended while he was in prison last year, were you not?” Clearly she had done her homework, although you didn’t like the way she twisted the situation inaccurately.

“I was on medical leave from field work, I still assisted remotely from Quantico and retained all other privileges.”

“Caused by Agent Reid’s arrest?”

“Caused by pre-existing mental health conditions that I’ve been treating since before I joined the BAU. My leave was temporary to help get it under control after the stress of Doctor Reid’s false arrest.”

She was quiet for a minute as you shuffled to the next file. You hoped that she would start asking about the case before you lost your temper, your secret mission would be compromised if you couldn’t keep your head down about it. Her next statement didn’t surprise you, though it came from left field.

“You do know that interpersonal relationships within a Unit are against Bureau policy.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re implying,” you put down the file to finally square up to Barnes. She had seen your file, you knew that much, but you were now doubting how much she had actually read into it.

“Are you and Agent Reid romantically involved?”

“Doctor Reid is my best friend. Last time I checked there was nothing in Bureau policy that didn’t allow that. I don’t appreciate you speculating about my personal relationships when they’re clearly not relevant to this case.”

Questioning your loyalty to the team was one thing, but attacking the most pure thing in your life was going too far.

“What is relevant to this case then, Agent? Your skills must be more useful elsewhere than sitting in a conference room looking at photos. Perhaps a transfer to a tactical unit would be more beneficial to the Bureau?” She finally pushed in a direction you were expecting.

“I would think that the Bureau would be more interested in well rounded agents instead of one trick ponies. I’m building my skillset here, rather than getting stuck in a rut doing tactical work.” It wasn’t completely the truth, just last year you had talked with Spencer about the possibility of you transferring to the Hostage Rescue Team. A tactical position would make sense, considering your strengths, but you had found such an unlikely home at the BAU that leaving was out of the question.  

“You’ve been building your skills here for almost a decade. Why do you think Agent Prentiss was promoted to Unit Chief over you?”

“She was the right choice. She has seniority, as well as a more rounded viewpoint from her other assignments. I trust Emily Prentiss wholeheartedly.”

Just like Matt had predicted, Barnes was trying to pit you against your team, “what about Agent Jareau? You’ve been a profiler longer than she has, do you know why I promoted her above you?”

It was her mistake, honestly. Of all the people who she could try to turn against the BAU, you weren’t a good choice. Instead of falling into her trap, you doubled down, “she’s been with the team longer than I have. Knowing how the team works is just as important as knowing how to profile if you want to do this job right. I fully support JJ as Unit Chief, but that’s not why you picked her, is it?”

“It is not.” You waited for her to elaborate, but instead she left the conference room to talk to Matt. As soon as she left your phone was at your ear calling Spencer.

“She had the nerve to ask me if I was romantically involved with you,” you hissed as soon as he answered. You heard Emily laugh on the other end of the line.

“What’s happening with the rest of the team?” Spencer spoke up.

“She’s trying to push us all out, but keeps denying it. We’re closing in on this case, but she’s stepping on our toes all over the place. She wants to make this a quick close but honestly she’s only making it harder for us to profile this guy. How’s it going on your end?”

There was a pause, which you assumed was caused by Spencer taking you off of speaker and stepping out of the room.

“She’s trying to leave. She said someone had to take the fall for what happened with the Truthers-“

“You’re not letting her, right? Nobody needs to take the fall for what happened, where did she get that idea?”

“Barnes, I guess. I’ll keep working here, keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Ok, good luck.”

Doing what you were doing proved harder than you thought. Barnes stepped completely out of line during the validation strategy, getting the unsub killed when Tara and Luke were completely capable of talking him down. You were fuming but knew you needed to keep your head down as to not blow your cover with Spencer, so instead you tacked yourself to Luke’s side with the knowledge that he would tell you if you were about to do something stupid.

It was the right call, because JJ tore into Barnes on the jet and you knew you didn’t have the authority to add on to it. It felt like a small victory, until Barnes met you all in the office right before you were about to head over to O’Keefe’s.

“Agents Prentiss, your suspension is lifted. You will be reassigned within the Bureau, your new post has yet to be determined. Agent Lewis, you will also be reassigned. Agent (y/l/n), you are being reassigned to lead a SWAT team in the city, congratulations on the promotion. Agent Reid, you will be a full time professor with our exchange program. Agent Rossi, the FBI deeply appreciates your service and the Director wishes you nothing but the best in your retirement. Agent Simmons, Agent Alvez, you will remain here at the BAU. Garcia, your loyalty to the team is appreciated but it feels like a fresh start in a different department would be best.”

She made it seem like your reassignment was a good thing, but that was far from the truth.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer answered his door faster than you thought he would, eyes narrowing behind his glasses when he saw your disheveled state a few weeks later.

“I’m losing it. I’m going to get my whole team killed. I can’t keep doing this,” you spilled before you were even able to step into Spencer’s apartment.

“Here,” Spencer led you to his couch and pressed a hot cup of tea into your hands, “take a deep breath, you’re here with me. Did you just get off of a case?”

“Yeah, a bank robbery downtown. We locked it down but the whole time I was thinking about how it could have gone wrong.”

Spencer didn’t say anything, instead letting you sip tea and breathe for a minute.

“When Barnes reassigned me I thought her goal was to give me a promotion so I wouldn’t want to come back to the BAU.”

“It was, she knows you’re an incredible agent. Any unit is lucky to have you.”

“What if it was to break me though? She’s read my file, she knows my episodes have been more frequent since you were arrested in Mexico. Did you hear about the school shooting that happened last week?”

Spencer nodded.

“I was there, Spence. I was there. And the whole time I was leading the team through the hallways getting kids out I kept thinking about Jack, and Henry, Michael, and Hank. How they could be in that school, how there were already kids in that school that I hadn’t saved. I couldn’t save them.

“When I first started out at the Academy my peers all told me I would head up SWAT one day. I thought it was what I wanted until I joined the BAU. You even said I’d do well on a tactical team a year ago, so I trusted the process and that we’d get back at Barnes but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep having panic attacks after every case. It’s not fair to my team, someone’s going to get killed and it’s going to be my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, it’s Barnes’. Why don’t you take a couple of days off and sit in on my lectures? You can even guest speak if you want, I scheduled an extra day in the syllabus in case I needed to go over any material again but I don’t need to use it.”

“You’re too good at this, Spence. Where’s your mom?” You looked around his small apartment, already starting to feel better.

“She’s in the bedroom resting. She’s liked having me home so much, although she asks me almost every day when you’re coming to visit,” he laughed.

“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m at work now more than when we were in the BAU. I have a newfound respect for every time I’ve called in SWAT in the past nine years,” you joked.

The comfortable silence that fell between you as you finished the drink in your hand was cut short by Spencer’s phone ringing.

“Doctor Reid,” he answered, “Hi Luke, what’s up?”

Your eyebrows smashed together, listening closely to the half of the conversation you were able to hear.

“Don’t bother, they’re with me. We’ll meet you there. Bye,” he hung up and turned to you with a slight frown.

“They have a case that they want us to look at. Barnes won’t approve it, we’re meeting at Emily’s.”

“A secret team meeting?” you stood up excitedly, unable to stop the grin spreading on your face, “let’s go.”

“Hey Spence?” you asked as he got into your car, a small detail of your conversation occurring to you.

“Hmm?” he clicked his seatbelt.

“You didn’t know I was coming over. The tea that you gave me… you made it for yourself, didn’t you?”

Spencer smiled bashfully, “you needed it more than I did.”

“The world doesn’t deserve you, Spencer Reid,” you sighed, putting the car in drive.

Galaxy Taglist: @kermitsaysgayrights @niallthedancingharry @shadyladyperfection @thatsonezesty13 @lexshead @ceeellewrites @howdycharlie @girlycakepops @fantastic-fans @canimarrypizzaornah @daisyflower138 @dyingrexx @taylormobley @tj-drinks-tea 

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights from David Gaider - PART 4

This information came from DG on a recent SummerfallStudios Twitch stream where he gave developer commentary while Liam Esler continued playing DAO from where they had left off in Part 1, 2 and 3. I transcribed it in case there’s anyone who can’t watch the stream (for example due to connection/tech limitations, data, time constraints, personal accessibility reasons, etc). A lot of it is centered on DAO, but there’s also insights into other parts of the franchise. Some of it is info which is known having been put out there in the past, and some of it is new. There’s a bit of overlap or repetition with topics covered in Parts 1-3. This post leaps from topic to topic as it’s a transcript of a conversational format. It’s under a cut due to length.

The stream can currently be watched back here. Next week LE will be streaming a different DAO playthrough with commentary from another guest. Two weeks from now LE and DG will return to continue this playthrough for another stream session like this one.

(Part 5, Part 6)

[wording and opinions DG’s, occasionally LE’s; paraphrased]

The Loghain sequences, where it jumps out of the HoF’s point of view to let the player see what Loghain is up to, were added quite late on in development. Some of the dream sequences (like the HoF’s dream of the Archdemon) were also probably added quite late. Those sequences were added as they felt that they needed to have more indication of the larger goings-on in terms of what Loghain was up to, since they had cut some stuff that was meant to have shown this. Cutting things can be funny like that as you’re then left trying to explain the holes.

An original Archdemon concept drawing had them as a lot more demonic as opposed to draconic, with blank all-black faces, a giant ornate crown, smoke, tentacles and a Cthulhu-esque feel. Things change a lot during the concept phase however. At the time, DG wasn’t sure if he liked the changing of the ‘demon’ into a ‘dragon’, but over time he digs it - it sorta implies some things about the nature of dragons in the world that they later decided “yes, that is probably the case”. They then worked that more into the lore so that dragons weren’t just there to be huge lizards. Given the difficulty the team had modelling things like tentacles and snakes, the original Archdemon concept would probably have been iterated on and would’ve had to become something else eventually anyway.

Having the party camp was probably always part of James Ohlen’s plan. Originally, there was going to be different camps in specific places around the map. They then made it a sort of ‘pocket area’ that the player always ‘took with them’, but here they had problems figuring out things like what would happen if the player rested while in an interior location as opposed to somewhere out in the wilderness, “like, does that change it?” For a while there was a complicated system where the party members would do things in camp that would give the player items and help out in such ways - like a party member who made potions, ones that could be interacted with and asked to craft, a whole crafting system relating to that, etc (this all got cut). This was supposed to act as a reason for the player to return to camp and have more interactions at camp; they didn’t want the camp just to be ‘the place you go just to talk to followers’. A good portion of the team considered dialogue to be boring and not an activity that was engaged in.

As soon as hair/beard hair came past the ‘clipping plane’ of the neck, they had real trouble getting it to move due to lack of proper cloth physics and the troubles they had with hair. Beards were rectangular strips that dangled from the chin with the beard texture attached to it. Sometimes certain points were connected to the chest which is why there’s the weird stretching if models move in certain ways. This happens with robes as well. The reason they did this is so that there’s no clipping. For some reason the BW animation team was so averse to clipping compared to other games from elsewhere which sometimes have a bit of clipping that they’re actually not fussed about. At one point they had a big fight on the DA team because the art team said “We need to make every entrance and doorway [including tents] about twice the size that it is, about Shale-size specifically, because of Shale” because they were worried that there would be scenes where Shale would clip through the wall, and about how this would look to players. Others responded that it’d be rare where Shale would be seen going through a door and also that nobody really cares (as in it’s not a big deal). DG half-seriously suggested that instead of making every door bigger, have it so that after entering the door’s texture at the sides and above it would look cracked and have an outline of Shale’s arms and head as if she’d just barreled her way through the stonework. In the end Shale’s size was reduced as a solution to this (so Shale was originally intended to be a lot larger). This is an example of a place where different parts of the team had different priorities in development. It was pointed out that in the end having giant doors may not have made much difference, as every interior in DA is massive in terms of floor and ceiling-space, as well as items (huge jugs of ale etc) anyway.

Weapons and staves hover on characters’ backs due to the team’s aforementioned aversion to clipping. Originally there were plans for scabbards and straps, but they didn’t have the resources for these and they were also concerned about staves clipping through straps, especially when being ‘drawn’ for combat, even though that would just be a second or so. So this is why we instead have floating magnetically-attached-looking weapons.

DG wrote Nature of the Beast including all of the Brecilian Forest, it’s possibly his favorite plot/questline out of the ones he wrote for DAO. It’s one of the plots that survived best from first inception to final result. One of the prominent cultural features of Ferelden is the werewolves, and so DG had to make ‘the werewolf plot’. All the initial plots were split up like that (the werewolf plot, the dwarf plot, etc). Originally there was a separate ‘elf plot’ but it got joined together with the werewolf one. DG had an idea for a being that was like male and female, terrible and kind, beautiful and horrible and so forth - both at once, like the way nature is. This was the vague initial idea from which this plot grew. The nature spirit encountered is the flipside of the being. The spirit of the forest is both male and female, or something akin to being bigender (both rather than neither). There’s not much difference between the Lady and Witherfang. DG finds it so weird hearing the DAO Dalish elves’ American accents (since their accents were changed for the next game). The American Dalish elf accents bugged DG enough that when they got to DA2, he said to Caroline Livingstone “can we just retcon this” and she was like “yeah”. “I think we underestimated how weird prevalent American accents in the game alongside the British ones would be”. Zathrian is voiced by Tim Russ (Tuvok from Star Trek).

The Cammen-Gheyna plot is a fairly ‘nothing-y’ sidequest relatively speaking, but is so complex in terms of how many options and paths through it that it has that DG got a big of a finger-wagging for it and some people were not happy. LE commented that this quest is “an extremely Gaider plot”, as the player can ruin everyone’s lives in it. Gheyna’s pronunciation of Andaran atish'an is incorrect. This phrase is one of the ones that got mixed up in the pronunciation guide and one of the ones that when they got to DA2, DG was like “ignore what we did before, here’s the new pronunciation files”. One of the first ‘images’ the team had of the Dalish was that they had reindeer-like creatures that pulled the aravels. In DAO aravels look more like standard wagons than the ones in the ‘images’, and they weren’t shown properly. Aravels are wagons but they’re supposed to have big sails (not naval-style sails on top) all over the place to catch the wind, so that they look like a bunch of ships being drawn across a field. They got closer to how they’re supposed to be in DAI. At one point the artists sat DG down and asked him what should set the Dalish apart visually. “Funny you should ask, I have some very specific ideas about what the Dalish should look like that have just never been done”. [I think here he meant hadn’t yet been implemented in the franchise] “Oh, we just thought they were ‘people with wagons’.” “Nobody reads documentation...”

The lamps in the Brecilian Forest are a bit random. They put light sources everywhere and it seems like the Brecilian lamp thing was art-asset use that boiled down to “guess it’s an elven forest?”. The Deep Roads were supposed to be properly dark. The team had a lot of conversations over how dark they could or should make the Deep Roads. They constantly had beams of light coming from above and it was like “this is supposed to be like a mile underground, why are there sunbeams coming through cracks in the ceiling” - the answer is it looks good and they didn’t want to do proper darkness. By DAI, they got closer to the ‘look’ the Deep Roads are supposed to have. This is a recurring theme in the DA franchise lol. “This was a weakness in our team and processes, that it took two titles before we got on board with each other and with the vision.” But they had plenty of good strengths too! DG wishes they had iterated a bit more on the werewolves’ look.

“Evil options” was always one of the big conversations that they had. DG wasn’t a fan of the evil options because they mostly boiled down to being a big jerk. The reason for this is a lengthy design discussion that relies on interface - proper, smart evil usually implies some kind of deception, and how do you indicate to the player that the option they’re about to take has a more cleverly-sinister aspect to it (as opposed to simple Intimidate options)? They didn’t really enjoy just letting the player run around being an asshole to people, “do we have to service this hyuk-hyuk-hyuk, particular type of enjoyment?” DG wishes they had figured out how to do the evil stuff a little better (feeling that in a game, doing good has less merit unless there’s temptation to do evil, and that evil paths should be more materially rewarding). 

DG wrote The Dawn Will Come with some help from PW and Karin Weekes. It was the first song he wrote. Trevor Morris sent him the tune and he listened to it many times and wrote out the lyrics. PW and KW helped him make it “less awkward and cringey”. “They’re very good at that”. PW is good at poetry, KW is more musical and knows more about music. “If you get something which is as ridiculous as it is memorable, it’s probably Sheryl. If you get something that’s beautiful prose, it’s probably Mary. Something in-between is probably PW.” The DAI bardsongs were written by an external party brought in specially to do so. This required a fair bit of review and revision to make sure they followed DA lore. “It’s a problem we’ve always had trying to work with third parties, they tend to think that anything that falls under the umbrella of ‘medieval fantasy’ would fit in DA”. (Here DG groaned a bit thinking about Orson Scott Card.)

On the Grand Oak and co: “After I finished writing this I totally regretted it. It’s a big dialogue and there’s a lot involved in this quest. Do you know how hard it is to make somebody rhyme in a way that’s not completely cringey for the entire dialogue? I was three quarters into it and I so wanted to stop but I was past the point of no return. But I did it! And it worked out.” The Grand Oak should have been a LotR-style ent-like being in terms of animations and presence. When DG sees the Oak’s stationary pose he’s reminded of Silence of the Lambs. When he finished the Grand Oak and hermit quest he was like “I make way more trouble for myself than I should”. The Hermit cycles through random animations outside of conversation because he’s supposed to be twitchy and weird.

The haunted empty camp side encounter was a pain for the tech designers to make work because there’s no NPC to talk to. It was a pain whenever companions had to offer critical information like in these sorts of parts in fact, as they had to write 9 versions of each ‘line’ (1 for each companion).

There are certain spells/abilities in D&D that can make a GM’s life frustrating, such as teleportation, telling the future, resurrection. The fact that death is not permanent, for instance, should be a huge thing that affects society and how the people in it view death. This is why they were thinking stuff like “If every low-level mage in the setting had a skill like ‘Charm Person’, what would non-mages make of that?” This ties back to discussions in previous part/s where there are lore rules like no teleportation. DA was originally envisioned as a low-magic setting, but this didn’t last long [this subject is also covered in previous part/s]. The rules of magic didn’t really change though, they just weren’t really communicated that well to the other teams in the early days. They slowly realized that it was incumbent on the design team to explain and sell to the other teams the vision, not just expect them to read documentation. They were also constantly fighting against their own presuppositions of “DA is like D&D”.

Desire demons were supposed to be genderless. DG isn’t a fan of how the Fade turned out in DAO. The quests themselves were too long; they couldn’t do all the original plans they had for them so there was a lot of iteration, “then we ended up settling for something not very exciting”. Another big fight the team had was about whether they should have permanent death since DA was a more realistic world? One side’s argument was that ‘if you don’t allow for resurrection then we can’t have death in combat’. DG wondered if there was a different dichotomy they could get to but didn’t want to dictate how combat should work or tell combat designers how to do their job, as he wasn’t the one doing that work.

One of the best moves they made when working on DAI was the concept artist consulting cosplayers. This was good work not only in a fashion sense but also in that it led to making outfits for characters that someone could actually wear (contrast those with Sebastian’s outfit, which DG remembers cosplayers having trouble making functional/wearable and putting together). DG really wasn’t keen at all on Cole’s hat. When designing the clothing-clothing in DAO, the artists were trying to get the most variation for clothing out of assembling pieces. For the sake of variation they allowed pieces to go together that really shouldn’t go together. This allowed for a larger number of clothing options to be made out of a smaller number of clothing models/textures.

In Neverwinter Nights they added a “jiggle mesh” to the engine, it was used in only one place (Aribeth’s cleavage).

Writers are the first ones that jump onto a project, so when last touches and polish is being added to a game they’re often not aware of it. Once the writing is more or less locked down for a game, they start working on the next project. On every project at some point they had to have what they called the “profanity meeting”, where they decide what types of profanity exist in that world, what level of profanity they’re accepting, establishing the standard on this front, etc. This leads to fun meetings where they go through every profanity that they know and try to create new ones. “Maker’s breath!” and “Void take you!” are some of these kinds of things. They needed exclamations akin to “Goddamnit” but which made sense in this fantasy setting (“Goddamnit” implies the context of God, and the concept of damning, for example, so it doesn’t hold up) and weren’t just word substitution like “frack” instead of fuck or something.

The Grey Wardens gained their trademark blue and silver uniformed look for DA2. When the new art director Matt Goldman came on before DA2, he wanted to re-approach a number of things such as the darkspawn (mentioned in previous parts) and the Wardens. He wanted factions like the Wardens to be more uniform and easily identifiable at a distance by silhouettes and colors. He wanted factions to be more visually distinct and to introduce more color in general, as DAO was very brown and muddy. This was something of a standing mission of his when he came onto the project. He disliked the idea that there wasn’t anything unifying or distinct or ‘easily identifiable as a DAO screenshot’ about DAO screenshots, other than that brown muddiness. 

Deciding how to design the Lady of the Forest was a long conversation due to the potential nsfw elements. It was a long haul to get her to look a certain way.

The thing DG found easiest/least painful to write was probably Zevran’s dialogue. He felt less pressure about it and had a bit more fun with it. Zevran has a certain story about trust that DG found pleasurable to build on; Zevran had grown up with a certain expectation of deceit and trauma, and when confronted with earnest feelings, that was the more puzzling part for [Zevran] to process. “When you expect everyone around you to deceive you, you’re kinda like, okay, this is life. But then to figure out, ‘oh, I guess it doesn’t need to be that way’, well how do you even... not?” DG remembers straight male players complaining on the forum after accepting Zevran’s massage tent-invite and not clocking that that was an invite of a certain nature. Overall Zevran was a more relaxed piece of writing for him. Shale came later but writing Shale was also a lot of fun. Like HK-47, “you can string together a few quirks that you find amusing and people will still treat that like a character and love it”.

In DA2 there was an entire subplot centered around the Carta and Varric. It spanned all three Acts. Mary Kirby had written it to completion and it was good. DG had to tell her it was among the cuts they needed to do because it was written a bit later relative to other stuff and because cutting it offered the most return according to the schedule and resources/subsequent downstream work. In cases like these they sometimes take the cut plotbeats and put it in a ‘box’, in the hopes that they may be able to use it for DLC or something later on. In practise this doesn’t happen very often at all. On DAO it did happen once with Shale. Shale was cut from DAO and had to be moved to become Day 1 DLC. Work on Shale therefore took place after most of the game had been finished. If they hadn’t done this, she would have been cut completely. It also sort of happened on DAO with Loghain. It originally had a whole plotline in Denerim involving him which had the player figuring out his background, motivations and interacting more with Anora. All of that got cut (requiring the cutscenes mentioned at the start of this post being added), and this is where the idea came of writing a novel (The Stolen Throne). This occurred in the period when the game had been delayed and DG particularly regretted that particular cut. He thought, “I could take this story that you were going to learn about the history of Loghain and his relationship with Cailan, and rescue it in a way.” [source]

[Part 1]

[Part 2]

[Part 3]

[Part 5]

[Part 6]

[‘Insights into DA dev from the Gamers For Groceries stream’ transcript]

[ninja-go-to-therapy]

Shaken

Chapter 2

Summary: MK wakes up in the hospital. If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's got to get away.

Trigger Warnings: hospital, referenced abuse, mentioned death

2990 words

“—just started freaking out—”

“—swear, if this is more monkey madness you’re putting him through—”

“—not.”

Words and voices faded in and out. What was going on? His head felt like it was going to explode. Everything was fuzzy, and he hadn’t even opened his eyes yet.

Come to think of it, he probably shouldn’t open his eyes. He didn’t want them to know he was awake.

MK fought to keep his breathing even, just barely suppressing a groan.

He hadn’t escaped.

He was in the “hospital”, no doubt, completely surrounded by those fake shells of his friends. He had to get out of here.

“—think he’s waking up!”

“—id! Kid, can you hear me?”

Shit. They knew he was awake. There was no getting out of this. 

He fluttered his eyes open, sitting up with great difficulty.

“MK? How are you feeling?” Fake Tang asked. He looked so real, too.

MK scanned the room as subtly as he could. The door wasn’t blocked. He had to make a run for it. It was a long shot, but if he could just get to his staff, then he could get out of here. But it was so far away.

Pretend Monkey King took a step closer, reaching out a hand to put on MK’s shoulder — or to kill him.

“Don’t touch me!” he demanded.

“Oh, kid—”

He scrambled off the bed and onto the opposite side, nearly collapsing entirely at the immediate searing pain that came from it. He’d forgotten about his leg.

“Shit, kid, sit back down!” Not-Pigsy said, like he was panicking and genuinely worried for MK’s safety and well-being.

As they advanced on him, MK backed away, using the wall for support. He had to get away.

He made it to the door, but immediately bumped into something — or someone. He turned around, stifling a pained gasp at the action. Pretend Sandy was there, almost totally blocking the doorway.

He looked back behind him, terror growing as he saw the concern etched on his not-friends faces. It looked so real, and that only made it worse.

He had to get out of here.

He faked left. As predicted, not-Sandy followed.  MK quickly changed his direction, sliding past him and making a break for it down the hall.

The violent burning crawling up his leg was, quite literally, his downfall.  His leg gave out, and he was sent sprawling to the floor, and then he was being surrounded, by nurses and his friends alike, and then… he didn’t remember much, after that.

He woke up again in the same blindingly white hospital room. It felt like he was missing more than he knew he was.

This time, he was alone.

Hope soared in his chest. If he wasn’t being watched, he could get out! He went to sit up, but was stopped short by straps that were holding him down. 

“No,” he begged, tugging on them desperately. “No!”

He was trapped. Done for. They were going to kill him, and there would be nothing he could do about it.

Oh god, he was sure now that they’d make it extra slow and painful. Of course they would. They had to despise him, by now.

He heard someone approaching from the other side of the door, and immediately, he went limp, pretending to be asleep again.

The door opened.

“Oh, bud…” he heard pretend-Monkey-King say. “You’re gonna be okay.” they must have known MK was awake. There was no other reason they’d be spewing this bullshit. Maybe they could watch him even without a human puppet around.

MK couldn’t take it any longer. “Just drop it,” he said, staring numbly at the ceiling. “You don’t have to act anymore. The jig has been up for a long time.” he blinked back the tears that were pushing at his eyes. “So, who am I talking to? Jin or Yin? Or both? I don’t know how this Calabash shit works.”

MK couldn’t see not-Monkey King’s reaction to that. He just kept staring at the ceiling, blinking away his tears. His head was beginning to hurt.

“Those bastards? You think—? Oh, MK…”

Oh, great, now they were playing from this angle. When would they just give it up? He knew it was them.

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Oh, come on, bud, you don’t really think they could replicate my stunningly good looks, do you?”

In spite of himself, MK laughed. That was just like his mentor.

Monkey King smiled. “Really, bud, it’s me. Wukong.”

MK glared at the ceiling. “Nice try. The real one wasn’t… I wouldn’t have called the real one by that name.” he never had before. The demons clearly hadn’t done enough research.

Pretend Monkey King’s confusion was so fake it hurt. “What do you mean?”

“We’re not that close, you know. Hell, I doubt he even actually knows my name. Just — god. Kill me. Don’t try to make me believe it’s really them. Just get it over with!”

“Dammit, MK, we’re not going to kill you!”

“Whatever.”

For a moment, fake Monkey King looked genuinely upset. He sighed. “Get some rest, kid.”

And then he left.

MK spent the next few minutes in silence, struggling to get out of the restraints. But they were tough. Fucking hell. 

But he didn’t give up. He couldn’t afford to. He had to get out of them, he had to get home, to his real friends. How long had he been in here, anyway? Pigsy would probably be pissed at him for missing work.

The door opened, and this time, it was the fake version of Mei. He didn’t even get the chance to wonder what she wanted before she spoke.

“Ask me something,” she demanded. “Monkey King told us what you think is going on, so ask me something. Something only you and I would know.”

Oh, so they could make it all worse by making him see just how much they knew about him? Hard pass.

At his lack of reply, Mei began to talk. “We’ve known each other since we were 13. Pigsy took you in a year or two after that. Your favorite season of Monkey King: the animated series is season 8, because you think whatshisname is hot.”

Okay, sue him, he had a thing for redheads! But that wasn’t important right now. “So what? Anyone could find out stuff like that!”

Mei huffed, continuing on. “Your favorite coping mechanism used to be writing fic about Monkey King adopting you. You wrote one of the biggest fics in the fandom ever.”

“And? That’s not that hard to figure out!”

Mei looked like she was about to scream. “Your parents were bad people.”

MK, who had been struggling, immediately went still.

“They were bad people, and they were even worse parents. You told me not to go after them, even after you got kicked out. Because you’re too good to have ever even considered it. What else do you want from me, MK? When you defeated DBK—”

MK had to admit, he’d almost begun to believe her. “You almost had me there,” he admitted, “I don’t know how the hell you found out about any of that, but if you didn’t notice, the DBK thing didn’t work last time either.”

“...What?”

“Oh my god, I’m not that dumb. I would remember locking away DBK if it had really happened.”

“But… it did?”

“Yeah, sure. I really did lock away the entire Demon Bull family, yeah. And Tang and Pigsy have some weird gay relationship going on, and Mo can just talk now, and Sandy is hosting romantic river cruises, of all things. And you,” he said, forcing down the vomit. “are in love with me!”

Mei made a face. “Ew! That’s disgusting. Wait, okay, I think I have one. What if I tell you what MK stands for? Then will you believe it’s me?”

MK rolled his eyes. Nobody knew what MK really stood for but the real Mei. Even demons would have a hard time figuring it out. Hopefully.

“Whatever.” 

They were probably bluffing, anyway.

His name, what MK really stood for, was a nearly perfectly kept secret. Especially in… recent times.

“MK stands for Monkey King, “because he’s like, my hero! And doesn’t MK have this super cool and kinda mysterious edge to it?” she replied, imitating him badly and hardly missing a beat. “And, even though you think it’s a super cool name, you’re embarrassed about it, and keep it to yourself.”

MK glared at her. “I don’t know how you heard that—”

“What will get you to believe me?” she begged.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing! I’m not falling for this bullshit again!”

“Ask me something! Anything! Please.”

MK thought for a moment. There was maybe one thing he could think of that they wouldn’t know. Something real. Something they would have no reason to. 

He sighed, weighing it over in his mind. There was no downside, he supposed. “What did you say when I first told you about… me?”

Again, Mei didn’t even need a moment to think. “I told you that I was really happy that you were comfortable telling me, and that I would love to take you shopping sometime to get you some better clothes, and then I demanded to know where your father lived so that I could scoop his eyes out with a plastic spoon, because he doesn’t deserve to even be able to lay eyes on you. And then I said I would keep him alive, but only barely, because an asshole like that deserves to suffer.”

MK’s blood went cold. It was too oddly specific, and had happened years ago. There was no way they could have known. Which could only mean…

“Mei?”

“Yes!” she cried, nodding frantically. 

He couldn’t help himself, the tears he’d been so desperate to hold back earlier finally beginning to fall. “It’s really you?”  he sniffled.

Mei nodded. “It is, I swear.”

Carefully, she wrapped him in a hug. It felt so nice and comforting. For a moment, MK just let himself be swept away by it.

Until the door opened.

He pushed Mei away gently, wiping his eyes furiously. 

“You uh… feeling alright, bud?” Monkey King… the real one…? asked.

“I’m okay.”

It was real. Pigsy and Tang, they were both real. And Sandy, and Monkey King, and Mei. God, he was so stupid.

“So… you thought you were in some evil magical illusion? Why?” Sandy asked.

“Because I was there before, and—” MK cut himself off. “Wait, no, this is still wrong. I would remember defeating DBK. That never happened.” But they knew — but he also would have remembered — he didn’t know what to believe. Oh god. How was he supposed to know for sure? How was he supposed to be confident in his decision? What was he supposed to do?

The others shared a look.

“You defeated them weeks ago,” Tang said, slowly.

“In like, April,” Mei added.

“It’s March,” MK corrected, his breathing picking up.

“It’s definitely May,” Pigsy said.

“I don’t… but…” MK took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. He didn’t feel so good. His head hurt so bad. He wanted it to stop.

His eyes were hurting, too. Was the world always so covered in little black spots?

“MK?” someone asked, their voice a thousand miles away. “Are you alright?”

The darkness fully overtook his vision, and MK didn’t have the chance to answer.

———

“—kill you, monkey asshole—”

“—do I have to do with this?”

“—our kid a — concussion!”

“—my fault?”

MK groaned, feeling faintly like he was going to vomit. He didn’t try to sit up, this time.

“MK, how are you?”

He eyed his maybe-friends warily. “Trying to figure out if I’m being tricked.”

“Yeah, about that. You’ve got a concussion, kiddo.”

Well, that was a lousy excuse. “I didn’t even hit my head,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Try again.”

“What about that earthquake earlier?” Sandy offered.

“That lasted for like, ten seconds.” Not even. It had been over before it had even actually begun. They needed to try harder than this to fool him. He’d almost fallen for their lies the last time he’d been awake. He couldn’t risk it happening again.

“It definitely lasted for longer than that,” Pigsy said.

“No?”

“Yeah?”

“I bet that’s what happened, then. You hit yourself on the head during the earthquake, forget some important shit — I mean, stuff — gave yourself a concussion, and then you went on a quest that I like to call how badly can I scare my parentals?” Pigsy said, all but yelling by the time he was done with his explanation.

Out of all of that, MK couldn’t help but hone in on one part of it. “...parentals?”

Mei sighed. “You’ve forgotten a lot.”

MK looked at her for a long moment. He still just wasn’t totally convinced. But if there was one thing he knew Yin and Jin would jump at, it was this. One last try. “You know what? I changed my mind. I am in love with you.”

“I — what the fuck, MK?” Mei asked, looking sick at the thought.

“Oh, thank god,” he said, sighing in relief. “Okay, I believe you now.”

Thinking about it, he supposed it all made sense. It didn’t make it much less disturbing, though. In fact, the growing sense of horror he was getting was almost worse than thinking he was inside the Calabash.

But god, it had all been so obvious. Besides the initial earthquake, there had been nothing else like it the entire day. No glitches, no inconsistencies, no random people surrounding him and insisting that this  was completely and totally perfect. Yin and Jin would have probably jumped at the chance to gloat once he’d initially figured it out, too.

In short, MK was just… really fucking stupid. 

Shit, it was really hitting him now. He must have seemed absolutely fucking crazy all day. Especially considering he’d never told anybody about his first experience in the Calabash.

His friends really had been concerned about him. And with good reason. To them, he’d just lost his mind out of nowhere.

He’d attacked them. He’d actually landed a hit on Mei. He’d been so sure that they weren’t really them. Oh god.

He couldn’t breathe.

He was so stupid. He’d freaked out over nothing, and had very obviously put his friends through enormous stress. All because of a little paranoia that had snowballed into — well. This.

He’d gotten a fucking concussion, broken something in his leg, he’d attacked Mei, he’d fought with everything in him against the people who were only trying to protect him. And all he had in response was to try to hurt them.

He was an idiot.

“C’mere, bud,” Monkey King said, crouching down beside the bed and wrapping MK in this sort of embrace that was all warm and soft and fuzzy. It was so comforting and nice, and probably more than he deserved. “I’ve got you.”

From the other side of the bed, Mei leaned over, hugging MK from behind.

The others, to the best of their ability with the limited space the hospital bed provided, joined in, however uncomfortably.

It was like being completely cocooned in warmth and love. 

They… still wanted him around.

He’d completely flipped shit for no reason, had attacked them and screamed at them and done everything in his power to get away, but they still wanted him around. He’d been so sure they would be disappointed in him, would be angry that he’d fought them so viciously, or even hate him.

But if this was anything to go by, they didn’t.

In fact, he’d never felt so safe.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Tang assured from somewhere to his left.

For the first time in the last day (two days? more?), he actually believed it. His friends were real, they weren’t out to end him, and the danger, for the most part, was gone.

The Demon Bull family was gone, locked away under a mountain. Jin and Yin had nothing to do with it, this time.

Also, Pigsy had willingly referred to himself as MK’s parent figure, and wow was that strange.

Strange, but not unwelcome. 

And, if the day’s interactions were anything to go by, it seemed like Monkey King didn’t just tolerate him, but actually… actually cared about him?

He wondered if he’d felt that way at the point in time where MK’s memory stopped.

It was startling to know that everyone else in the room was much better informed about… well, everything, than him. They knew about thoughts and feelings he’d had that he didn’t even recall experiencing. They knew about his greatest battle, about how his relationship with all of them had developed in that time, all of it.

And he didn’t.

There was an uncomfortable gaping hole in his mind that he hadn’t even known was there. He felt sort of… naked without it. Like he’d run to work without his pants on and for some reason or another, couldn’t get back up to grab a pair.

His stupid brain was locking the door so that he couldn’t retrieve his pants.

But it would be okay. Something deep within him told him it would be. Or maybe it was the pile of people crowding around him in a group-hug, who knew. Probably a little bit of both.

But really, he was somehow certain that it would work out. He would regain his memory, and in the meantime, the others could fill him in on everything that he’d missed.

It was all going to be fine. It would take some adjusting, and it would be hard, but they still wanted him around. That was, in of itself, a miracle.

“Wait, does this mean he doesn’t remember that Tang and Pigsy are together?”

“What?”

[lochrannn]

@pepperf and I challanged each other to three Whumptober fics. Here’s my first contribution

No. 1 - ALL TRUSSED UP AND STILL NOWHERE TO GO “You have to let go” | barbed wire | bound

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence

Tags: Hurt/Comfort; Canon-Typical Violence; Injury; Implied/Referenced Torture

Relationshipts: Diego Hargreeves/Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves/Hargreeves Siblings

Characters: Diego Hargreeves; Lila Pitts; Five Hargreeves; Allison Hargreeve; Klaus Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings

Summary: Stuck in an unfamiliar 2019 the Hargreeves have struck an uneasy truce with Reginald and his Sparrows until Diego and Five are summond to the academy to identify an intruder who was captured by their father while looking for them.

They’ve struck an uneasy truce with Reginald and the Sparrows.

It’s caused no small amount of strain amongst the siblings. Fuck, Diego can’t say he’s in anyway pleased about it himself, he was probably the one who argued the hardest against it, but it’s not like he can’t understand Five’s logical pragmatism either.

There is no immediate benefit and only very real danger to fully antagonizing the most powerful group of people in a place where the original six Hargreeves siblings (Diego is confused himself sometimes about how to refer to all of them) have no resources, no allies, and no history to speak of.

They already had a scuffle with the Sparrows when they first arrived, and maybe if they hadn’t been exhausted and confused and completely overwhelmed to see not-Ben in the Sparrow academy uniform they might have had even a sliver of a chance. But as it stood then, they were very quickly overpowered and the only thing that saved them was Five’s ability to compartmentalize.

Somehow Five convinced Reginald to let them leave the mansion. Whether their father genuinely doesn’t think they are a real threat to his world and his timeline is entirely unclear, but Diego and his siblings know that they have been free to move about the city and stay at a motel on the outskirts only because Hargreeves is letting them. If and when he decides that he can’t risk leaving them alone any longer, they will be in real trouble.

They are all sat around the bedroom Allison is sharing with Vanya, arguing over how to continue, Five firm on his stance that his siblings need to sit on their asses until he is done calculating how he can bring them back to their original timeline (nobody wants to say out loud what they all know to be the silent continuation of that phrase - if it even still exists), while Diego thinks Five can juggle his silly little numbers, but in the meantime they should try and establish just exactly how dangerou the Sparrows are and if they should actually take the opportunity they’ve been given to protect the city from their father’s twisted sense of justice.

Allison, unsurprisingly, is with Five, and considering that she has lost the most in their original timeline, Diego can’t actually blame her for it.

To his utter surprise, he thinks Luther might actually be coming around to his point of view. Vanya is trying to find a compromise and though Diego has started appreciating her need for harmony, right now he really wishes she would stay the fuck out of it.

Klaus is sitting by the cracked window, intermittently taking drags of his cigarette and watching the discussion, but clearly uninterested in taking part.

Some part of Diego is worried about him, but he neither knows how to approach Klaus about how he’s feeling, nor does he think he has the time to stop and deal with his brother’s grief. It can wait till later, he tells himself.

“... you imbecile!” Five is shouting at Diego, the two of them squaring off in the middle of the room, Five’s lack of height doing nothing to make him any less ferocious, “If we draw dad’s attention like that he might figure out that we’re trying to restore our own timeline. And I might not know the old man that well, but he’s not an idiot. He wouldn’t risk the possibility that us trying to restore our own timeline could destroy his. He might not have killed us yet, but I have no doubt he will if he thinks we might bring about the end of his world.”

That stops Diego for a moment, he hasn’t thought of the fact that that could be a genuine risk. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, but he catches a glimpse of Allison out of the corner of his eye, the way her eyes are big and bright, her lips pursed, and her arms are crossed so tightly it almost looks like she’s physically trying to hold herself together, and he decides that that is another thing to think about at a later stage, or hopefully never.

Diego is just about to respond to Five when there is a knock outside.

It’s not particularly loud, but it isn’t gentle either and they all freeze and stare at the door.

Then there is a flurry of hand signals going around and it doesn’t seem like they are really communicating anything through them, except that nobody is quite certain what the best course of action is, and in the end Allison, who is the closest to the door, rolls her eyes, untangles herself, and turns around to open the door a crack.

Diego can’t see who it is but he can tell by the way Allison tenses and squares her shoulders, that it’s not a welcome guest. It would have been highly unlikely anyway, it’s not like they know anybody good in this place.

“What do you want?” Allison says. Her tone is cold and razor sharp. She doesn’t need the Rumor to be commanding even when asking a question.

“My father would like to talk to your brothers,” a man’s raspy voice responds.

“Yeah, well, why didn’t your father come here to talk to them, then?” Allison doesn’t budge an inch and continues blocking the door with a foot behind it so it can’t just be shoved open.

“My father is a very busy man, Allison, he doesn’t have the time to trudge all the way out here,” the man on the other side of the door responds, clearly one of the Sparrows, and Diego can see Allison's knuckles go white where she has her hand on the doorframe at the casual use of her name.

“We’re a little busy, too, right now, so if Hargreeves wants to talk to any of us…” Allison begins but then Five interrupts her and calls out from where he’s stood next to Diego in the middle of the room, “Who does he want to talk to?”

There’s a beat in which Allison starts fidgeting by the door, clearly as enraged with her brother now as with the man standing outside the motel room. Then she pushes the door open far enough to reveal a man that Diego recognizes as the Sparrow with the scarred up face, but Allison doesn’t let go of the door, making sure to signal that he is not coming in, even if she’s letting him talk to the rest of the Hargreeves.

“You,” the man says in an even voice, pointing at Five, then shifting his finger just a little to point at Diego next, “and him.”

-

They are greeted in the entrance hall of the Sparrow Academy by a Pogo that looks like the butler/teacher/guardian they grew up with but who has only the slightest hint of recognition in his eyes when he looks at Five, but none whatsoever when he looks at Diego.

He takes them to the elevator that they were never allowed to go near when they were children and presses a combination of buttons that makes the contraption descend.

When they stop and Pogo opens the grate, Diego realizes that at least they haven’t arrived at the floor with an anechoic chamber at the end, but it doesn’t make him feel any less nervous about being in the Academy’s basement. They have nowhere to run.

And the way their father is standing halfway down the hall shrouded in darkened shadows certainly also doesn’t help. On the contrary, it makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“At last you’re here,” Reginald says, his voice not particularly loud, but it echoes off the empty walls and is dripping with sarcasm, “I haven’t got all day. Pogo, tell Number Four that I expect him to bring our honoured guests here in the fastest fashion possible, if I ever ask him to retrieve someone again.”

Diego and Five give each other a look and clearly silently agree that apparently they're expected to follow Hargreeves when their not-quite father turns on his heels and starts marching down the hall, Pogo bringing up the rear.

“We have had an intrusion into the Academy last night. But fear not, with only a very small amount of difficulty, we were able to subdue and capture this interloper. However, though we applied our most thorough interrogation methods, we haven’t yet been able to establish her identity,” Reginald declares grandly and Diego feels his blood run cold in horror.

“That being said,” Hargreeves continues, voice still clipped and impassive as he opens a heavy metal door and ushers in Five, Diego, and Pogo, “Before she started putting up a fight, she seemed to be under the impression she might find you here!”

Hargreeves is looking at him expectantly, but Diego is taking no notice of him, because they have walked into a cold, tiled room, with very sparse furniture, at the center of which is a large metal chair.

Handcuffed to the chair’s arms is Lila, looking badly beaten up and possibly unconscious, head lolling on her chest, and Diego can see a white piece of cloth tied as a gag around the back of her head that’s highlighting even more how messy her hair looks.

Diego sees red and three things happen at once.

He wants to call out to her and go to her and get her out of here, but all he manages is to stammer, “Luh-” before the word gets stuck in his throat and as he takes a step towards her, all of a sudden, everything stops.

Irrationally, Diego has the sudden burning urge to suck in a breath, despite the fact that he doesn’t actually need to and also he realizes that even though it feels like even the air around him has gone completely still, he has no actual trouble breathing.

And then he feels the hand grabbing his wrist and when he looks down at it, he sees that Five is holding on to him with fingers that are glowing blue and an expression on his face that is split between concentrated, enraged, and in pain.

“What the fuck?” Diego says, staring around them at the way everything suddenly seems like it’s two dimensional, the complete and utter lack of any movement flattening the world around him weirdly.

“I know you are about to do something really fucking stupid, Diego, but I need you to stop and think for a second,” Five says. He sounds a little out of breath and strained.

“Have you stopped time?” Diego almost shouts, incredulous.

“Yes, but I won’t be able to hold onto this for very long so I need you to understand that there’s nothing we can do to help her right now!”

Five almost tips forward at the force with which Diego pulls his arm free from his grip. He’d like to punch the little twerp for saying something so aggravating, but he already looks like he’s standing on shaky legs, so Diego balls his hands into fists in frustration and stares his oldest brother down.

“Don’t be so dramatic, idiot! We’ll come back for her, okay? But for now, we can’t let dad know that we know who she is or give him any information about her. What do you think he’s going to do if he finds out about the Commission? It’s too dangerous for us. And I presume for Lila, too. So, Diego, I need you to let this go!”

Five barely finishes his sentence when everything starts up again.

It feels like a tidal wave crashes in on him as air begins flowing around him again and low humming noises that he would not have noticed before assault his senses.

His father is saying something but Diego can’t hear what it is because Lila, apparently not unconscious, lifts her head and looks right at him.

Diego’s chest feels like someone has cracked it open and his heart has fallen out.

There are spots of red on the gag in her mouth, and dried blood is running from the corner of her mouth down her chin. Her lip is split but that’s not where the blood is coming from, and the top of one of her cheekbones is bruised red and purple and looks slightly swollen.

He doesn’t quite know how he sees it, because he can’t actually tear his eyes away from hers, but he registers that her knuckles are bloodied and bruised and he can guess that the rest of her body is no better but it’s covered in a long sleeved black top and matching pants. Her feet are bare, though.

Even if he wanted to ignore Five’s instructions, he’s not sure he could make his limbs move to go towards her, rooted to the spot by the intensity of Lila’s eyes on him, as she struggles against the cuffs holding her arms and legs to the chair. Her shouts and screams are muffled by the gag, but Diego still thinks he can hear her calling his name, begging him to help her.

He feels sick.

He is staring at Lila and is willing her to use Five’s powers to teleport out of there. He doesn’t even care if she disappears again, as long as she gets away from these ruthless so-called superheroes and his dangerous father. Diego realizes at that moment that some part of him never actually expected to see her again. He thinks he could live with her disappearing for good this time, if only it means that she’s no longer here, in his psychopathic father’s torture chamber, getting interrogated because she made the mistake to come after him.

“She was quite the handful,” Reginald explains, “it seems she has powers of her own. But I have injected her with a mild sedative of my own design that will continue to suppress her powers until we have decided what to do with her.”

Diego’s eyes flit from his father back to Lila and he can feel his heart simultaneously hammering in his throat and the pit of his stomach. His ears are ringing. And once again he is unable to protect someone who is so important to him, like Eudora, like Mom, and in that moment he can feel his eyes stinging with tears that he has to hold back if they don’t want to tip their father off.

“Well, can’t say I’ve seen this woman before, I wouldn’t know why she was asking for us,” Five says, his tone so casual that Diego would almost believe him if he didn’t know it was a complete lie.

“Diego?” Five turns to him, one eyebrow quirked up in question.

His tongue is sticking to the roof of his mouth and his throat is seizing up completely. And all he can do is watch Lila struggling, stare her down, and try as best as he can to communicate to her that this is not real, that they will come back for her, that he made her a promise of family and that they won’t leave her behind.

“Apparently he doesn’t know who she is either.” Five has gotten impatient next to him, waves a hand in what seems to be half a shrug and also half a non-verbal see? and turns back to Reginald.

“If that’s all, I think we’d best be getting back to our siblings. You understand, we’re still reeling a little from arriving in this very unrecognizable time.”

Five doesn’t wait for an answer, instead he turns around towards the door, grabs Diego by the elbow and the last thing he sees as he’s dragged out towards the elevator by his much smaller brother, is Lila beginning to struggle frantically and his father’s very skeptical look.

For some incomprehensible reason they aren’t stopped from leaving the mansion and they only get to round the first corner before Diego doubles over, hands on his knees, and dry heaves into the gutter.

-

Five wants them to wait another day before they go back to the academy to grab Lila as he expects the Sparrows to be on high alert after their visit today, but Diego explains in no uncertain terms that he is going back tonight, with or without his siblings’ help, and even Allison backs him up when she hears about the obvious signs of torture.

The plan is that Diego, Allison, and Five, the best trained at stealth combat out of all of them, go to the mansion, while Luther, Klaus, and Vanya cause a distraction in a different part of the city, hoping to create at least a small window where some or all of the Sparrows are out of the house.

That actually works significantly better than any of them could have expected. Or Reginald knows they’re coming and doesn’t care, and right now, neither does Diego, because for some reason Five blinks into the mansion and only a minute later blinks back out into the alley that they are hiding in, just about able to support a very unconscious Lila for long enough to set her halfway gently down onto the dirty ground.

Diego is by their side in a flash, hands nervously hovering over her body, eventually deciding on supporting her head and stroking the hair out of her slack face.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What did he do to her?” he’s whispering frantically, not actually expecting an answer, but Five pipes up and says, “Oh yeah, that was me.”

Diego freezes and then slowly turns to look up at his brother, thinking he must have misheard.

“What’d you say?” he asks, deliberately making his question sound as threatening as possible, though Allison’s hand that lands heavily on his shoulder does take a little bit of the wind out of his sails.

“Diego, we have no idea why she came here. For all we know she came to finish the job and kill us all -” Diego opens his mouth to protest, but Five just holds up a hand and maybe because Allison squeezes hers on his shoulder, half in warning and half in support, he lets Five finish.

“I just want to make sure we know what we're dealing with and that we’re properly prepared for whatever that might be.”

Diego can actually see the logic in that, it’s not like he hasn’t got good reasons to distrust Lila, but it still doesn’t sit right with him, not after the promise they all made.

So he huffs in annoyance as he snakes his arms under her knees and shoulders and lifts her up easily, maneuvering her until her head is lying against his shoulder, gentle breath tickling his neck, and he is struck by how quickly he’s forgotten how small and skinny she really is with how energetic and forceful she is when awake.

Diego thinks he doesn’t ever want to see her this vulnerable again, but nevertheless the feel of her body against his is an instant comfort for his nerves that have been pulled taut since he first laid eyes on her this afternoon.

-

Diego is livid with his siblings as he paces the tiny floor space in the motel room.

It’s just him and Klaus and Lila, still unconscious, lying on the bed, both wrists cuffed to the frame.

Five’s idea again. All of the siblings whose powers Lila could use to escape have taken their leave while Klaus has been left in charge of the key to the cuffs, because Diego can apparently not be trusted with them. And Five seems to believe Diego wouldn’t go through Klaus to get to them.

He’s thinking for probably the thirtieth time in about as many minutes that he might just like to prove Five wrong on that one, when Lila begins to stir and mumble incoherently.

Klaus, who’s been doing an impressive job of ignoring Diego’s hyperactive fury, stubs out his cigarette and glides over to the foot of the bed where Diego is standing, frozen to the spot, watching Lila come around.

“You fucker!” she says, finally, when she’s managed to pull herself half upright against the headboard where the cuffs are also attached to the decorative cut-outs in the wood.

Diego stares at her, now completely incapable of saying anything.

“You left me to rot in that fucking torture chamber!” she shouts at him then, thrusting her torso forwards as far as she can go to put more force behind her accusation.

That jolts Diego into action and he tries to rush out an explanation when Klaus just talks over him, and Diego is really beginning to resent that, but his brother seems completely unbothered.

“Are you here to murder us, missy?” Klaus asks in the voice of a not particularly strict school matron.

“I fucking might, now! All that talk about family and then you abandon me to those psychopaths! I know you have daddy issues, but I didn’t know you have no fucking spine when it comes to that monster!” She's jangling the cuffs aggressively and Diego’s stomach twists, both at her words but also at how the cold metal is digging into the already reddened skin at her wrists.

“So you’re not here to kill us?” Klaus tries again and it’s almost like he’s cut Lila’s strings with his perfectly even, practically friendly question.

She falls back against the headboard, turns her head away from them, deflated, and says quietly, “no.”

“You wanna hurt any of us?” Klaus adds.

“Yeah, I really do, but I won’t,” Lila grumbles off to the side, clearly more drained than she first let on.

“Wunderbar!” Klaus exclaims and then tosses the key to the handcuffs up in the air and when Diego manages to catch them, only fumbling a little, because this is not what he expected, Klaus is already halfway to the door.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he shouts over his shoulder as he leaves and slams the door shut behind him and after all of his angry and frantic struggle to get Lila back to their motel and have her wake up, Diego wishes Klaus hadn’t left.

Because, what’s he supposed to do now?

He’s given a clue when Lila shifts, doesn’t look at him, but the motion makes her cuffs clatter against the bed and Diego decides that whatever else he needs to do, the first thing is to let her out of the handcuffs.

He makes his way around the bed, sits down on the edge and leans over her to unlock the cuffs.

Lila doesn’t look at him, just pulls her arms back down now that she has her full motion and cradles her hands against her chest protectively.

Diego notices that her eyes are shining but she’s not blinking very much, probably holding back tears and now he knows even less what he’s supposed to say.

On instinct he thinks that if he can’t talk about things, maybe there’s at least something more immediate he can fix and he gently pulls her hands away from her to inspect her wrists.

Lila lets him, but still doesn’t really acknowledge him.

The skin there is reddened but doesn’t look raw, so Diego rubs it carefully with his thumbs and when Lila flinches he sets her hands into her lap, just glad that she’s not quite so curled up into herself anymore.

He takes a look at her face, they haven’t yet taken care of the cuts and bruising on her cheek and lip. There’s even still the line of dried blood down the side of her mouth.

Momentarily grateful that that gives him something to do, Diego gets up and swiftly makes his way to the small bathroom. He picks up one of the fresh white towels and runs it under lukewarm water and then grabs their meager first aid supplies on his way back into the room.

When he comes back in, Lila is busy cleaning dirt - probably dried blood - out from under her fingernails, but she looks up at him and while it had bothered him before that she was avoiding his eyes, he now feels like the skin on his entire body is heating up as she won’t look away.

Diego sits back down on the side of the bed and half expects her to take the wetted towel and scrub her face with it herself, but instead she is just waiting, chin tilted up a tiny bit, as if in challenge.

Never one to back down, he nods, not quite sure what he’s agreeing with, and lifts the towel up to her face to gingerly wipe the dried blood off.

“You just left me there!” she says coldly and Diego lets his hand drop again.

“We didn’t have a choice...” That sounds like a feeble excuse even to his own ears and Diego drops his head with a sigh.

“Was that some kind of fucked up retaliation for when I left at the barn?” Lila shoots back immediately, sounding far more angry than before.

“What? No!” Diego’s head snaps up to look at her. She’s baring her teeth furiously, the slight pink blotches from where he wasn’t able to properly clean the blood off her face making her look almost wild, but her eyes are shining brightly again and Diego suddenly feels a lump forming in his throat.

“No, Lila! We couldn’t risk my dad finding out about the Commission, if he thought he could have gotten that kind of information out of you, I can’t think about what he might have done! But I didn’t want to leave you there like that, I swear. I was going to help you! I tried to, but Five stopped me!” He’s desperate to get her to understand that the last thing he wanted to do was abandon her after everything she’s been through.

“Well that would have been pretty stupid!”

Lila’s interjection completely stops him in his tracks and Diego can’t help but stare at her a little dumbfounded.

“What?” he says, looking her dead in the eye, her expression a mixture of annoyance and exasperation, but also softer than before.

“Your idiot hero complex could have fucked us all over, huh?” she adds, and Diego is just about to argue when his protest dies away in his throat as Lila moves to tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear and then leaves her hand at the side of his face.

All the tension Diego’s been holding since he first saw Lila tied to that chair, or possibly even earlier, possibly since he saw her disappear out of Sissy’s barn, seeps out of him and he leans heavily against her hand, eyes closing with how drained he suddenly feels.

“You came back for me,” Lila says and Diego doesn’t know how to respond to that other than to cover her hand with his own.

He feels the mattress shift and then without warning her lips press against his and he makes a strangled, involuntary noise at the back of his throat as the intensity of the relief he feels then, for Lila being safe, for her being back with him, is almost painful.

Diego wraps his arms around her and pulls her against himself, deepening their kiss carefully, not wanting to be too forceful considering her injured state, but Lila presses into him hungrily, so Diego tightens his grip on her and very much plans to never let go again.

[akuzon-prime]

“Playing Hookey” ~AsmoxReader

Word Count: 1,890

Please tell me what you think afterwards! I havent posted my writing online in 14 years!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How odd. You pause by the exit to the dining room as it dawns on you that you haven’t seen Asmodeus all morning. Usually, by the time you made your way down to the breakfast table, he is already there and loading a small plate of fruits for you both to munch on.  How had nobody else found it unusual? True, breakfast was staggered this morning and the brothers were coming and going at their own paces...but even Belphie is managing to stumble dazedly out the door to go nap in his first class. So where is Asmo?  Mammon, realizing that you aren't tagging along at his side, turns back and looks at you. "What ya waiting on, human? Thinkin' of cuttin'?" 

His statement pulls you out of your contemplation and you shake your head with a small laugh. "No, I don't have a death wish. I'm going to go check on Asmo and see why he's taking so long today."

"He's prob'ly just paintin' his nails or somethin'." Mammon rolls his eyes to the ceiling and drops his hands from where they had been resting in his pockets. "But if yer worried, the Great Mammon would go with ya if ya asked reeeeal nicely." 

"Pass." You say the single word, holding up one hand. Seeing him pout, you laugh and turn him around. "Go to CLASS and cover for me being late if you want to help so much! Lucifer would take it out of your hide if you were late. Me, he might spare." 

"Tch. What's in it for me, then?" His blue eyes peek at you from over his shoulder as you push the obstinant jerk out of the room and into the hallway. He can be so damn stubborn at times! You paste a sickly sweet smile on your face and lean close to him to whisper, "If you help me, I won't tell Satan that you found and sold his one of a kind, engraved and gold embossed volume of 'Human and Devildom Sorcerers'." 

You watch him blanch as his eyes frantically dart about for the presence of his younger brother. Determining he isn’t in earshot, Mammon stops fighting you and straightens his jacket with a tug and a cough. His voice is low but you can hear a hint of pride in it before he walks away. "Ya play dirty, don't ya. Learned from the best. Yer welcome." 

He isn't wrong. You grin and turn to leave through the opposite dining room exit. The halls and stairs of the House of Lamentation are all as deeply ingrained into your memory as your own name; you hardly notice how little time it takes to get to the Avatar of Lust's bedroom. You lightly tap on the wood and call his name in a soft voice. "As...are you awake?" 

Nothing. You try again but after the same non-response, you puff up your chest and open the door. Is he sick? Too sick to get out of bed or talk? You squint in the dimness of the room. You'd been in there umpteen times before now so you know the layout fairly well. Still, it is a benefit for your human eyes that he has two or three candles lit in their sconces in the room. The curtains on his bed are closed and you have a sudden recollection of all the movies you have watched in your life that hid a corpse behind similar curtains. Someone sneaks in to plan an assassination and-

Cursing under your breath, you dart forward, and don't hesitate to throw open the nearest sheet obscuring the mattress. You blink. No blood. No mutilated blankets or pillows that show signs of a struggle.  Just Asmo...curled like a cat on his side, face snuggled deep into a soft down pillow. OF ALL THE... Momentarily, you are enraged. You were so worried! Since when does he sleep with his curtains closed?! What happened to 'early to bed, early to rise' to keep his skin 'beautiful and perfect!'?! This man-! 

Before you open your mouth to say something, you pause, taking in a deep breath to calm your irritation. Maybe he really is sick. Nobody should yell at him for that. You lean forward to rest your hand on his bare shoulder and shake him slightly. "As? Asmo. Its past time for class...you missed breakfast. Are you ok?"  All you get in return is a slight mumble before he nuzzles his nose deeper into his pillow. This time, you brace a hand on his mattress as you shake him a little harder. "Asmo. Honey? Wake up..." 

You don't know what is happening at first but a hand grips your wrist and you are tugged onto the bed in a whirlwind of sheets. Startled, you blink up at your friend who is smiling down at you like a cat before a trapped mouse. His lips are curled in a sensual smirk, his eyes are full of heat and mischievousness, and his hair curls around his face like a wave - perfectly edging him in dim gold. You try to ignore his obvious nudity...with great difficulty. "Don't worry, honey...I'm awake." 

Yeah, he is. Not a single thing in his pose or expression seems sleepy! Did he know you would come and wake him?!  Or maybe he had been waiting for anyone to wake him...like a trapdoor spider, anticipating the unassuming passing of its prey. You feel like prey. With him smiling down at you, a sensation of warmth fills your chest. And face. And neck. And stomach. The Avatar of Lust certainly knows what he's doing. You try to form some sort of indignant response but it comes out of you in a puff of breath with little fight. "You...You were pretending. I was worried, you know?" 

"For me?" His voice is honey dripping over you as he leans down to brush a soft kiss over your cheekbone. Asmodeus's grip loosens from your wrists and his fingers slide down the fabric of your uniform till they are not-so-innocently plucking the buttons open on your blazer. His lips ghost from your cheek to your ear - the warmth of his breath tickles the small hairs by your temple and warms your skin. His voice? His voice. You try desperately not to shiver as it takes on a husky note when he whispers, "how very sweet of you, Mc." 

Words. Thoughts. Um. Shit. Asmo stop teasing meeee...

"Wait, As," you put a hand on his chest to try and push him back a little and instantly regret it because, hah! wouldn't you know it, his bare skin feels so wonderful under your fingers. Against your will, your eyes dart down to look at the place where your skin meets his and then wander from there to perfectly formed muscles, dusky pink and perky nipples, and down...down...down...  When your eyes snap back up to meet his, he was giving you a grin so wide you could see his pearly whites. What had you been about to say? Another button of your blazer gives way under his frisky fingers and you remember with a sharp intake of breath. "CLASS. We. We're late - really late - for class. You...you should get dressed. I can wait in the hall." 

Yet, despite your words, which were obviously meant to be backed up with action, you stay pliant underneath him, completely bound to the spell that was Asmodeus. You know he has the ability to glamor less powerful beings. To pull them to him and lull them for the taking...but this isn't that. Even if you COULD be glamoured by him, you are just - pure and simply - awestruck. This isn’t the first time, either. The difference is, all the other times are in public and not his bed, his brothers are always a step behind, and sweet Devildom, he is usually clothed! You groan inside your own head at your inability to move away from his touches. 

"You don't seem to want to go to class," Asmo sits up, knees on either side of your hips, and brings your hands to rest on his thighs. Your eyes dart everywhere around the room and your heart picks its pace right back up to where it had been previously.  Damn, but his thighs are warm and your traitorous body begins shifting your thumbs in lazy horizontal lines across the expanse of skin. He certainly looks like a fallen angel, sitting above you like a sinful painting of the physical manifestation of lust. You bite the inside of your cheek but the momentary pain does nothing to stop the ache spreading through your core.  A short gasp leaves your mouth as Asmodeus runs one hand through his silky hair and another over his pert left nipple. You can see the glint of a small, rose gold barbell and your gasp turns to a groan. When did he get that? The sound you make causes him to close his eyes and tilt his head back as if the groan itself had been a touch on his body. 

"A-Asmo-"

He falls forward and boxes you between his arms again, pressing his lips to yours in a feverous frenzy. Your hands fly from his thighs to his shoulder blades in surprise but it’s all you can do to not shift desperately against him as you give in to the heat of his mouth on your own. Your eyes fall shut and you slide your tongue across the seam of his lips. With a hum of pleasure, his part instantly and he moans softly into your mouth as his tongue slides languidly along yours. You both have made out before in quick, stolen moments but this is...KISSING. You are breathing for one another, hearts pounding in sync. He drags his lips from your's in a sloppy trail down to your neck. Nipping your skin, he begs, "Forget class. Stay here with me and have some fun." 

Unlike Mammon's suggestion, your brain doesn't immediately shut this one down. You and Asmo have never had a moment to yourselves that weren’t chaperoned or in public. What did his brothers think he was going to do - corrupt you? I want him to corrupt me. That helpless thought makes you urge him on more. He's at the corner of your collar now and you want his lips to venture farther. Slipping your hands off of him, you begin to unbutton your dress shirt. He purrs in approval as you reveal more and more flesh to him. Your voice is a reedy whine. "J-just...one class. Maybe two. If we're both gone, they'll figure it out..." 

You open your eyes and find him peering up at you from your collar bone - amber eyes peeking through a sheet of golden waves. He licks his lips slowly and your eyes trace the movement. Finishing off the rest of the buttons for you, he sits back up and spreads your shirt and blazer apart to gaze down at you with undisguised ardor. "Oh, Mc." His smile turns feral and your body responds even more to it than his gentle teasing. "We've been dancing around this for too long. What makes you think this will be over as quickly as two classes?”

TBC...?

Written for @milas-imaginarium 's Asmo Appreciation week~

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

hey if it's not too much difficulty you're the only person i trust with this so would you mind writing me a super angsty fic based on 15x09 Dean burying MOC!Cas in a Ma'lak box?

Of course I don’t mind. It came out angsty, alright. Tell me what you think, Dean. Here you go:

***

Dean remembers how it used to be.

He remembers the warmth enveloping all of him, and the room imploding with such power that glass shatters, and the wind roars. The sky gets dark, but the seraph brings forth his wings and lights up the world, for a second right there - like a star in its death; a star breathing its last.

Squinting, cowering and incredibly alive, Dean’s been a witness to the all-powerful grace of the angel of the lord, before.

All of those times, he’s been terrified - yes, but never afraid. When Castiel had declared he could throw Dean back to Hell, that night, Dean didn’t doubt it. Of course he could. But he wouldn’t. For some strange reason, still undeciphered, he’d never meant to hurt Dean.

There was something in the air, whenever they were together. Respect, and a sliver of misplaced faith. Reassurance. A tug at his chest which just screamed Safe. Strength, from Cas’s end - and love.

He remembers how Castiel used to make him feel.

*

“There’s no other way.” Sam lets out, head bowed, in a voice more miserable than his stare focused on the book suggests. The lights in the bunker are dim; it’s just a little past midnight, and Dean has his head in his hands.

“Sam, we can’t -”

“I know.” He sounds like he’s trying to scrape the bottom of his soul-shaped barrel for the courage to say it out loud - hoping that’ll make it easier. “But we have to do something, Dean.”

There’s silence.

“I don’t care.” Dean mutters, but everything except his words claims that he does.

Sam knows he does.

“Nobody else’s around.” He says, instead. “No God, or hell, gods. No angel or reaper will help us with this.” He breathes in shakily. “They’re all afraid of him.”

He’s a Seraph of Heaven carrying the Mark of Cain. An Angel of the Lord, now claimed by Hell. Of course, everybody’s terrified, and rightly so.

There’s probably no one in their world right now, who’s stronger.

“But the Ma'lak box?” Dean cries out, lifting his head. Sam meets his eyes, looking pained. “Locked away in a living grave, for eternity?” Neither of them blink. “It’s Cas, Sammy! We can’t just -” His voice breaks mid-sentence, lips pursed and twisted to a side, eyes screwed shut. He takes in a breath, with some effort.

Sam waits. His brother clearly isn’t done yet.

Finally, Dean exhales - with a shudder. “Why does it have to be me?”

Sam’s face contorts in sympathy, and anguish. In a hoarse, earnest whisper, he answers Dean’s question as truthfully as he could ever.

“Because it’s him.”

*

Dean remembers the first time he saw Castiel, after he ran away from home.

They hadn’t needed a tip, so much as a peek at the internet to come to know of a pissed-off-looking middle-aged man was singlehandedly finishing off the members of a now-uncovered human-sacrificial cult.

And he wore a trenchcoat.

Sam and he were on the road, in minutes. All through the drive, his heart thudded in his chest - hoping, begging, praying that it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

It had turned out worse.

When Sam set off for the police station, hurrying into a disguise, Dean started scoping out churches and barns. And sure enough, he found Castiel - and the twelve dead men, with their eyes scorched out of gaping, black sockets.

The air was still seething with remnants of a smiting - but the heat wasn’t the kind which used to gloved him whole, and render awestruck. Instead, it wanted to melt the skin off of his bones, and make him want to tear out his insides.

“Hello Dean.” Castiel slowly turned towards him. The wind howled, and the barn was slowly falling to pieces. Dean’s world, and his heart with it, was falling apart. This wasn’t the Cas he knew - not with the empty blue eyes, and a blank thin-lipped smile.

When Castiel’s eyes met his - it was nothing like before. Fear thrummed in his veins - and his neck felt constricted. Dean wondered if that had something to do with Cas, as he involuntarily backed a step.

Every fibre of his being had begged him to run.

*

“What if the box can’t contain him?”

Dean drags himself to Sam, doubt weighing on his shoulders, and lands in the kitchen chair opposite his brother’s.

“I did think about that.” Sam confesses, frowning. “But do you really think he’ll try to get out?”

Dean stops.

Cas might not try to get out.

Maybe he won’t fight it. Maybe he won’t even try to get back to Dean -

He scrubs his face with a hand. After all the hours Dean’s spent, beating himself up over it, there’s a real chance that Cas wouldn’t be against the idea of being locked away by eternity as much as he’s being.

It’s a sadder thought than many.

“Dean?” Sam calls, uncertainly.

“Y-yeah.” Dean gathers himself in his head, returning to the present. “Sorry. You were saying?”

“I was saying,” Sam restarts, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes concerned. Dean hates that look on his brother’s face. “That’s half of the reason that the plan’s to drop the box in the Pacific.” Sam rambles on, not realizing the change of colors on Dean’s face. “I mean, Cas is an angel too; we know for sure he won’t drown, but I’m guessing it’ll hold his powers back -”

“The box isn’t going anywhere.” Dean declares, cutting him off. The glare in his eyes is definite. “No oceans, no nothing.”

“You want it to stay here?” Sam straightens, clearly taken aback.

Dean has no idea why. “I want him to stay here.” Sam opens his mouth in protest, albeit it’s a decidedly weak attempt, but Dean interrupts again. “This isn’t open for debate, Sammy.”

Sam shifts in his seat, not resigned to the idea of arguing, but trying to convince himself. “I suppose we could construct a permanent ring of holy oil in the dungeon, or -”

“Okay.” Dean lets out a breath he doesn’t know when he started to hold. “Yeah, good. See? We’ll figure something out. We’ll do that.”

An uncomfortable silence ensues, which irritates him because Sam still seems to be deep in thought. He doesn’t blame him - the underwater-forever idea had been his own, but that was Michael - and Dean. This is Cas.

He tries to speed up Sam’s processing of the new plan. “I’ll put up containment sigils. I’ll even read the containment-sigil book, Sam, I -”

“Dean.” Sam blinks at him. “Aside from that, how can we be sure that we won’t go get him out if he calls? Will you be able to ignore it if he cries out for help, since he’s right here?”

Dean knows Sam’s trying to go for a general ‘you’, but that feels extremely pointed at him.

If he calls out for help - if he as much as says my name, I’ll go to him.

Sam’s patient, as a rule, when it comes to Dean these days - but even his cool is running thin. His point makes more and more sense, as seconds pass, and before it can get too final, Dean knows he has to interject.

“If that happens?” Dean clenches his jaw, stubbornly. “Then so be it.”

Sam leans back in his chair, rolling his eyes. But under his breath, just barely loud enough, he says, “Fine. So be it.”

*

Dean remembers the last time he saw Castiel’s wings.

They were looking for him, and it wasn’t hard. When the aliases couldn’t help any further, the atrocious skies led the way to him.

Dean had guessed that the Mark would have been replenishing his grace, but bringing back his wings? He’d had no idea - right up until he and Sam stumbled onto a scene of impending crime and witnessed it themselves - for the grand display always preceded the blast of grace; Castiel’s apparent go-to move.

“Down!” Sam yelled, pushing Dean down with a hand on his back, as he too fell to the ground. “Close your eyes!”

Dean did - but before that, he looked.

They were huge, no longer sparse - and nothing less than magnificent. When Castiel glowered at the evildoers, the shadowed feathers flexed, and threatened as well. When he pulled himself to his full height, they arched, glorious and full of life - creating a perfect sight. Castiel was the embodiment of powerful, and his black wings, overpowering devices of conquer. In that moment, it felt ridiculous to ever have doubted Castiel could fly - his wings mighty, boundless and free.

And Dean Winchester was set out to convince him, to trap himself in a box.

*

Dean doesn’t know where he finds the courage to step ahead - but he associates it mostly with Sam moving forwards, because he’s immediately pushing him back and walking himself.

Castiel looks at him, just fucking looks at him. “Dean.”

“Hey Cas,” Dean clears his throat, and keeps on walking until his feet carry him - ending up inches away from the angel. “Uh -”

He hesitates.

“The last time,” Castiel fills the silence, speaking in a disappointed tone. “You left, Dean. I wondered for ages why you didn’t talk to me.”

“Well, we need to talk, alright.” Dean swallows, trying to avoid Castiel’s eyes. “Cas, uh. Can we talk?”

“Of course.”

That’s all the warning he gets, before he feels his eyes close like he’s feeling himself blink and when he opens his eyes, they’re no longer in the abandoned shack with his brother on the sidelines, or the bodies.

The first thought that comes to Dean’s head isn’t fear, since now he’s just by himself - and he’s grateful for that. But it is concern for his own stomach, though he thinks he feel alright despite the being zapped.

Castiel is sitting, with his arms folded on the table, on a red seat. In front of him is an unimportant Biggerson’s menu. Dean’s still standing in the same stance as before.

“Sit down.” Castiel suggests, and he does.

“Cas.” Dean lets out, putting his own elbows on the table as well. “I need to -” He stops, and exhales frustratedly.

He’s planned this out. He knows what he’s going to say; he’s practised this in front of the mirror - Hell, he’s practised this with Sam. He should at least be saying words that aren’t Cas.

“What is it?” The angel frowns - and he still doesn’t feel like himself to Dean, but at least now he looks like it. The squint, the pursed lips, the jutted out chin.

He looks so much like Cas, that it hurts even as Dean forces the words - any words he finds in himself, to come out.

“There’s no other way,” Dean blurts, in his brother’s words, and as the words sink in, Castiel’s brow clears. As Dean’s head hurts - Castiel smiles smally at him.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.” The smile spreads on the angel’s face, divine.

“You what?”

“I knew this would happen, Dean. You have something that’ll rid the World of me - it was only a matter of time before you gave in to the fact that there’s nothing else you can do, but use it.” Castiel answers, and there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice Dean hates. But his tone is detached.

Dean clears his throat again. “There isn’t.”

Tell me you want us to keep looking.

“Tell me.” As Dean’s tongue battles to get the truth out with his mind, Castiel takes off on a tangent. “How many have I killed?”

“Low hundreds.”

“And that’s just the people.” Castiel shakes his head sadly, looking so dejected that Dean wishes he can put an arm around him. Of course, he’s too far away, and probably doesn’t want that.

“Cas -” Dean tries, but Castiel cuts him off.

“Does it help that they’d all done very wrong things?” Castiel asks, a little hope in his eyes.

Dean hates himself. “It always starts off like that, buddy. I wasn’t killing innocent people either, but -”

“I know.”

There’s a pause - a heavy one, and at least the words were in his mouth before. Now they don’t make it out of his heart. And Castiel’s painfully quiet - looking thoughtful.

“I’m sorry I let you take the Mark.” Dean crumbles, finally, putting his hand on Castiel’s - because it’s right there, just right there.

“There wasn’t a choice.” Castiel sighs, and looks down at their hands. Dean wonders if he wants him to undo that reckless, impatient move - he’s already regretting it. Castiel’s hand is warm under his, and only serves to remind him of his wrath from before, and the searing heat.

This looks like Cas and sounds like Cas, but he’s not completely Cas.

Or even if he were now - sated, after the killings, as Dean remembers being - he isn’t always going to remain like his pensive, understanding friend. Dean knows he should make use of this window, but he just can’t do it.

So Castiel, like all the other times, sprinkled across their life together, helps. “And just so, there isn’t a choice now.”

Dean stares at him.

“So, alright.” Castiel declares, steady of manner. “You win. I’ll go into the Ma'lak box, Dean.”

Dean’s never lost more.

Fight this, Cas! We won’t push you if you resist this - we’d never force you in the box, so tell me I’m wrong. Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me you wouldn’t leave me.

Tell me to go away - fuck off and leave you alone.

“Take me with you.” Cas stands up, blankly, and decides to proclaim. And all of Dean’s most obscure hopes drift away, as he struggles to even plaster the false grin on his face.

“After you, feathers.”

*

Dean remembers the day Castiel got into the goddamn box.

Nothing mattered, as he stared at a wooden-faced Castiel hug Sam, except for the fact that he was next, and this was it. This was the last time he’d get to be this close to Castiel - ever.

When he pulled away from Sam, Dean noticed he sported a twitchy, nervous smile. Kid was trying not to break down - and that was brave, because Dean had given up.

“I - fuck, Cas. I’m sorry.” Tears pricked his eyes, as Castiel draped himself over him, arms crossed around Dean’s shoulders. Dean’s hands lay still on his back - holding him there. “Sorry.” He choked, closing his eyes and holding on.

Castiel clung on too, though not uttering a word. For him, this was the last touch he’d get - from Dean, from anyone, until the end of time. The thought seemed to strike him hard, and he held on tighter.

Dean, in return, pulled him closer.

He could feel Castiel’s heart beat - and he could feel his grace right there. He couldn’t feel a trace of the darkness of the Mark, and for the millionth time, he argued in his head that they were making a mistake.

“It’s risky keeping me out.” Cas muttered, pulling away, somehow knowing exactly what Dean needed to hear. He always did.

“You’re going in willingly, for the good of the world. For it’s safety or whatever.” Dean threw back. “The Mark’s clearly not gotten to you that bad. Maybe it never -”

“No, Dean.” Castiel shook his head, and a tear fell from his left eye. Dean’s brain stuttered into the realization that Cas, in spite of all his pretense, wasn’t doing this willingly. And then he made it even clearer.

He stared into Dean’s eyes - and for the last time, Dean fixed his own stare on those unbelievably blue eyes, blinking through the tears. And then, not looking away for a single moment, Cas confessed.

“I’m doing this for you.”

Don’t.

Please.

Dean’s mouth fell open, but he had no words.

Castiel didn’t wait for any, either. He stepped back from Dean, for good - for he’d never be in Dean’s personal space like that, crowding up against him like he always did - and glanced at Sam. And then again at Dean.

“It’s been a privilege to be family, Winchesters.” He utters, slowly, grandly - and Sam lets out an injured sound. Tears are streaming down Dean’s face now.

And with that, he turned to his eternal prison. Sam shuffled forward to give him a hand - now crying silent tears as well - and Castiel lay down inside.

Dean scrambled ahead, gripping the edges of the box. There was so much left to say. There was so much left to clear, and clarify, and reason through and object to - but Castiel would not return.

Cas would never return.

“Goodbye Sam. Goodbye, Dean.”

The lid fell.

*

The first few days were the hardest. Dean would wander around the bunker, feeling nothing but loss, grieving into expensive bottles of Men-Of-Letters whiskey and cheap glasses of rundown beer.

Then, one evening, there’s a knock on his door. Dean alerts immediately - eyes darting around, before he realizes where the sound came from. Instantly, his heart sings in a harsh, disdainful key of hope, and he pays attention.

“Dean?”

It’s Sam.

“Uh-huh?” He grunts back, failing to keep the unjustified disappointment out of his voice.

“I’m coming in.” Sam declares, and he does. He finds his brother buried on the right side of the bed, bottle in hand, and more of them around. Sam scrunches his nose in disapproval. “Dude.” He starts, only a hint of humor in his tone. “Your room stinks.”

“Your face stinks.” Dean returns, eloquently, and Sam lets out a breath shortly.

“No, I meant it like - your room smells.”

“Your face -”

“Shut up, jerk.” Sam chastises, cutting him off. “I, uh.” The impatience fades to worry, within moments. “I’ve been thinking, Dean.”

Dean keeps quiet, though he could easily have pointed out that his face has been thinking.

“We should start hunting again.” Sam finishes, sounding like he’s run these words over in his head a lot.

“What?” Dean sits up.

“You know, like we always did. Salt and burns at the start, maybe. We work our way to full-fledged hubs or nests again.” Sam explains, earnestly. “We’re hunters, Dean. And it’ll only do us good.”

Dean wonders how long he can hold in the prize question, but then gives up. “And you just want to leave Cas here?”

“Hey, it was your idea to keep him in the bunker.” Sam defends. “And I’m all for it now, but did you assume we’d never go out again?”

“Hunting’s different, Sammy.” Dean sighs, because of course Sam doesn’t get it. “What if - I mean, what if we don’t make it? Who tells Cas?”

Sam nets his eyebrows together in a frown. “Worst case scenario, he understands when we stop showing up.” He suggests, looking a little unconvinced himself, but Dean swears out loud, startling him mid-sentence.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He glares, standing up - or trying to. He feels a rush of dizziness hit him, and falls back to sitting position.

“So,” Sam frowns. “You haven’t been talking to him?” He looks genuinely confused, and Dean doesn’t know if he wants to clock him one, or hug him.

“I -” Dean’s positively aghast, and completely speechless.

Sam waits for his senses to return, arms folded across his chest.

“No!”

*

Dean remembers the day he moved a kitchen chair to the dungeon.

Longer talks, he reasoned.

It had been hard for him to listen to Cas’s replies from outside the ring of oil, so now he sits right next to him. Every night, he drags the chair past the ring, and settles next to where Cas’s head must be.

And every morning, he returns it to where it was.

They talk about useless things, in the beginning. It’s easier. Dean describes dinner once, and proceeds to thoughtlessly tell Cas that he’d be proud of Dean if he just tasted the burger. There’s a pause, and then Castiel answers that he’s sure he would, he doesn’t even need to taste it - and everything returns to normal.

Then, unspeakably, they move towards heavier topics. Dean tells Cas about hunts. In a reassuring way, it feels like the past. Cas asks questions and manages to make him feel heard, even through a wooden box with a breathe-hole in it - but Dean tries not to think about that bit.

There’s always a lot to think about, when Cas is involved, so it works out.

One time, after a particularly long hunt, Dean returns home to Cas. Even though he calls for him, loud, Cas doesn’t respond. With each passing moment, Dean worries more.

Finally, in a whim of panic, he raps his knuckles on the lid.

“Dean?” Cas’s voice rumbles through then, deep as always, but roughened with what Dean’s first guess is, sleep. “Sam?”

“You got it right in one.” Dean relaxes a little, but remains mostly tensed because Cas isn’t even supposed to sleep. “What have you been doing, Cas?”

“I’ve been asleep.” His voice sounds heavy. “I’m tired, Dean.”

“Tired?” Dean repeats, surprised.

“I can’t come up with more words for this feeling, so yeah. I’m tired.” Cas lets out, breathy and broken - and Dean wants to unlatch the box and wrap his arms around Cas and tell him it’s okay.

But he can’t, so instead he listens to Cas telling him about his life - all of those billions of years he’s lived, and never gotten to talk about.

Cas talks about his garrison, and their battles, and his brothers and sisters. He talks about archangels and demons and Hell and the Cage and Lucifer and God.

When he talks about the Mark, there’s a shiver down Dean’s spine. He talks about the exhausting thirst for violence, and unsuppressible hunger for killing - and he talks like he’s scared of it, and Dean hangs onto every word.

“Sometimes it gets so overpowering,” Castiel admits, quietly. “And this box so ridiculously limiting, that I must claw at my own hands so my fingertips at least touch blood.”

“Cas!” Dean cries out, shocked. Cas hurts himself in there? The thought’s so disturbing, Dean’s head reels. “You can’t -”

“It’s the only way I can keep myself under control.” Cas states, complacently. And his detached tone just further provokes the bile rising in Dean’s gut - at the idea of Castiel making himself bleed so he doesn’t try to break out of the box. “Don’t forget, I can heal myself too.”

Dean puts his hand on the box, still shivering.

“Since I’ll never have any use for it again,” Cas adds, dryly. “I might as well use up my grace doing this.”

He puts his forehead on it too.

“Maybe then I could die.”

He knows Cas can hear him breathe like this - which is the only way he can tell that Dean’s there, because he doesn’t have anything else in himself that night. He feels empty and awful and guilty.

When he sleeps, he sees Castiel inside the Ma'lak Box, burying his fingernails in his sides and tearing himself apart, to quench the horrific bloodlust the Mark causes.

He wakes up to Castiel snoring softly, and almost loses it all over again.

*

To be fair, things are better than what he’d imagined, because he gets to actually speak with Cas. Be it about Jack, from before, or Claire - Cas thinks about the kids a lot these days - or about millenia-old battles he lead, or week-old skirmishes Dean was involved in, at least they’re talking.

But ironically, it’s still too good to be true.

As the nights pass by, Cas gets more withdrawn. It’s not just the sleep in his voice - it’s the way he speaks. Like it hurts him to. Like everything hurts, and Dean knows how that feels, because he’s been there; he knows how it feels when the Mark takes over, slow but unpreventable, despite your better judgement - which dulls too, by the day.

Dean can feel Cas go through it all - try to suppress the constant anger, the need for action, and urges to harm. He wants to believe that his being there helps, his checking-in matters, but he knows he had had people who’d have listened to him too.

Because he hadn’t been in a goddamn box, in the first place.

One night, Dean tells Sam to get his overworked ass to bed because it’s been a long fucking hunt, and trudges along to the dungeon.

There’s an eerie kind of quiet, but Dean forgets his worries when he’s coming to Cas. He just carries them on his back when he’s going back.

At the scrape of the legs of Dean’s chair against the floor, Cas breaks down.

“I’m lonely.”

It’s a couple of fairly simple, untwisted words - but Cas sounds so pathetic and frightened and devastated, that Dean’s stomach falls to the ground.

“I’m so lonely, Dean.” Cas repeats, and he sounds like he’s crying silently.

Dean’s heart breaks in a million pieces and he hopes they seep in through the horrible fucking lid of his own creation, this Ma'lak box, so that Cas knows.

In a wrecked voice, he pushes out. “Cas, I’m right here.”

There’s a sound - a thud of something falling inside the box, and it feels like Castiel’s hand. Which means he’d been trying to push the lid before, and Dean has no idea what that means.

Get me out.

“You won’t always be,” Cas cries out.

They’ve talked about this before.

“I know you think that cause I’m a hunter - and cause I’ve always been, I’m going to keep running after these monsters forever. But I’m not.” Dean forces out, closing his eyes because this is hard enough without him having to address the angel’s grave. “I swear, I’m going to take this up with Sammy soon - it’s just been a lot of hunts lately. I just want to be done, for fuck’s sake. I want it all to stop. Cas, I want to be here.”

Cas doesn’t say a thing.

Dean braves on, his voice shaking shamefully with promises. “And after I’ve quit, trust me, I’ll be around so much more - don’t you dare tell me to get a life after, because -”

You’re it.

You’re my life.

“I wasn’t talking about that.” Cas says, painfully, and Dean freezes. “I’m immortal - every day should be a blink of an eye for me, though it isn’t because I’m weak and too attached.” Dean wants to protest, but Cas doesn’t give him a chance. “But you’re human, Dean. You won’t live, with me or without, forever.”

Time stops.

And it’s a goddamn good thing it does, because Cas just reminded him he’s dying, and it feels like it’s happening already.

It’s happening right here.

“Cas, I -”

There’s a thudding sound again, accompanied by a breathless sob from within which pierces through Dean, impaling him with guilt. His own tears start to fall.

“No, Dean. What will I do?” Cas keeps going. “What about me after you’re gone?”

*

Dean wakes up, sweating.

It’s three am.

He grunts, getting out of bed, and travels to the door on socked feet. The cold seems to completely disregard the woollen socks, and shoots straight to his head - weirder still, because he basically sweated himself awake, a minute ago.

Dean slowly moves to the kitchen, and pulls a beer from the fridge. His mind lands inevitably on Castiel.

He’d started visiting less after that night - for it’d more or less been an instruction for him, to stop. Didn’t Cas call it getting attached? And it makes sense too. If he spends the next - what, twenty years or so, next to Cas, he’d just be getting him up before the fall.

Because of course he’d be gone, and of course Cas would not, and of course it made perfect sense to visit Cas less until it started feeling off and they didn’t have things to talk about and then he visited even less, and now of course it’s been weeks that he’s not been there, with him, at the one place it all felt okay, and of course -

Dean’s crying into a bottle, at three in the night.

Everything hurts - every angle of this mishappening, but what’s overpowering most of the time is how much he misses his best friend, and his angel, and the love of his life, and Cas. All of him.

There’s too many tears clouding his vision, so he closes his eyes.

He’s lost Cas before - but it’s never been like this. He’s never felt so directly causatory, and fuck that feeling which shatters him inside - he’s the reason Cas took on the Mark, and he’s the reason Cas got in the box.

He’s the entire fucking reason Cas suffers, every time, and he’s the reason Cas was crying that day.

And yet - Dean can’t hold back the loud gasp, as he inhales forcefully - yet, more than guilty, as be should, he feels lost.

Because he’s not just lost somebody. He’s lost something he believes in, and the destination of all his prayers.

He’s lost his faith.

And for the first time in a very long time, Dean feels utterly, terrifyingly alone.

*

Sam’s woken by the sounds in the kitchen, and a foreboding of something awful tugging at his soul - and he dashes out of bed to see what’s wrong.

Immediately, when he sees Dean on the floor, shivering and breathing erratically through uncontrollable sobs, he wraps his his shirt around him and pulls him up on the first stool he finds.

“He’s not okay, Sammy!” Dean whimpers, clutching onto the shirt. Sam’s trying not to freak out himself, because it’s been a while since Dean’s had such a bad panic attack. “I can feel it - Cas is hurting -”

“Dean,” Sam pleads. “Stop thinking about him for a moment. Stop thinking about -”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Dean lets out, anguished. “When I had the Mark, Cas promised that after all that I’d do, after everyone that I’d kill, he’d still be there. He swore he’d always be there - but I cannot even say the same, and -”

“Calm down, Dean!” Sam repeats, anxiously. His brother doesn’t seem to be doing any better. “Just, please, don’t think -”

“You know I can’t stop thinking about him!” Dean throws back, frustratedly. “I need to - fuck, I need him, and I -”

Sam takes Dean’s hand in his, to stop Dean from rambling, and stares him straight in his eyes. “Do you want me to remind you that he can probably hear you right now?”

Dean shortcircuits for a second time.

Of course, Cas was an angel. Was Dean thinking about this, and thinking out loud, all going to make Cas hurt more? Was Dean adding to his pain and suffering again by -

“No.” Sam interjects, sounding sure. He’s always somehow been able to know exactly where Dean’s head’s at, in situations like this. “But I guarantee, he wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself like this.”

“Sam, I -”

“It’s okay.” Sam cuts him off, and helps hoist Dean up to his feet. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. You’re putting the beer away right now, and going back to sleep.”

Once he’s steadier, Dean immediately pulls his brother in for a hug, grabbing the back of his neck. There’s no words for how grateful he is for him. But even more so, he needs to confess something - for both their sakes.

“I want to start hunting again, Sammy.”

Because if he’s not ending up next to Cas, if he isn’t getting his happy ending or peace, why would he hang the gloves up? Screw tired - he’s going to hunt to his last breath.

Fuck quitting.

And Sam smiles back - knowing it’s probably going to take more convincing in the morning, but Dean’s in again. Like Sam, he’ll keep on hunting until he can’t - take down every monster before it, even though God’s gone and it keeps feeling like they can’t win.

They have to keep trying - because now there’s nothing for either of them to come back to.

“Well, so be it.”