#<- half joking they’re switches your honor bUT not for the bit

[consul-valerius]

“You look so cute when you’re trying to play cool.” // “Buh—Be quiet and don’t stop—!”

LET’S TRY THIS AGAIN!!! Tumblr may nuke this again BUT Now im fueled by spite to post this LOL Getting back into the smut generating mood; I’ve been cranking away at Kinktober for months now (lol life just worked out that way huh), but have done little digitally for a bit. Valerius gave me loads of trouble, but I think I’m content with this for now :3

[forsakenoathkeeper]

I Am Alive (chapter 6/?)

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Synopsis: You were a mechanical engineer, now a nurse for androids, who moved back to Detroit after the revolution to offer aid. After reconciling with an old friend, you became rather acquainted with his android partner.

Please support me on AO3 & thanks for reading ♥

The rain had finally started to die down when Connor pulled into the Thirium Clinic's parking lot. There were only a couple other cars present, likely your coworkers.

The android retrieved an umbrella from his trunk before trotting over to the entrance. Not wanting to make a mess by dripping water all over the place, he decided to wait outside, beneath the awning covering the front entrance.

"I'm right outside," he messaged you.

Not even a full minute later, a nurse came sprinting through the building, over to the front door. He could see her through the window, and lifted a brow at the sight. She smacked the door with her side, swinging it open, and hung half her body out the doorway.

"Are you Connor?" she asked, beaming with a wild grin.

"...yes," he replied, feeling strangely uneasy under her gaze.

The nurse stuck her head back inside and shouted, "I told you he was an android! You owe me twenty bucks!"

She turned back around to face Connor. "You can come inside - already a mess in here anyway," she said before immediately flinging herself back inside.

Connor hesitated for a moment before letting himself in; sure enough, the roof had leaked at the seam, which allowed water to come pouring in through a gap in the wall. There were puddles everywhere. The nurses for closing shift didn't seem the least bit perturbed by it.

"We've been dying to meet you," the nurse who had made a bet about him proclaimed.

Another nurse approached, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He fished his wallet out of his pocket and threw a folded twenty-dollar bill at the other nurse. It smacked her on the side of the head before fluttering to the ground.

She hastily snatched it off the floor and waved it in the air, laughing maniacally for a second. She shoved the crinkled bill in her pocket before turning her head to the android.

"Soooo, what do you do, Connor?" she asked sweetly.

"I'm a detective with the Detroit Police Department," Connor answered, his hand unconsciously lowering to straighten his tie. Considering it was sopping wet, it was a pointless effort.

"That puts a new meaning to 'blue blood', huh?" she teased, elbowing the other nurse.

"Sir, I want this woman arrested for shitty jokes," he said dryly. "It's physically hurting me."

"Tch. Shut up," she retorted, lacking any real spite. In fact, she was still smiling. "My jokes are amazing."

"They're criminal," he retorted, lip twitching.

You came around the corner, bag in tow, jacket zipped up over your scrubs, hair pulled back sloppily. Your eyes landed on Connor and-

-oh damn.

He had said he got caught in the rain; but, he wasn't just a little dampened, he was absolutely soaked, clothes clinging to his body. The best part was that Connor didn't seem the least bit perturbed by his state, standing there, completely unbothered by it.

"You're a little wet?" you chuckled as you walked up to him.

Connor's lip twitched into a nervous smile. "Sorry. I promise the car is dry - well, except for the driver's seat."

You looked up at Connor's freckled face like a lovestruck moron. A week and some odd days was way too long. He was more handsome than you remembered, gorgeous smile on his lips, brown eyes reflecting the shiny, obnoxious overhead lights. His LED was shining a magnificent blue.

"So, this is the one you've been keeping from us?" the female nurse teased as the party headed for the door. The male nurse took care of the light switches along the way.

"Everyone needs to be protected from you," the male nurse jutted in, loudly, to make sure she heard him.

"I haven't been keeping him from you," you laughed.

"You probably should," the female nurse teased. "He's way too cute."

You seemed embarrassed by that, a slight blush on your cheeks, trying to hold back soft laughter. You were forthcoming with how attracted you were to him in private; yet, Connor still felt pride bubble up inside him when that same attraction was presented in front of others.

Was that... normal?

"See you idiots tomorrow," you teased on the way out. The male nurse locked the door while the other stayed behind so they could walk to their car together.

Connor was prepared to open the umbrella, but realized the raining had stopped.

"Let's hurry before it picks back up," you said before starting a trot over to Connor's car.

As soon as you slid into the passenger, tossing your bag into the back, you realized it was still warm in the car.

"Did you...?" you uttered as Connor slid into the driver's seat. "-run the heater for me?"

"Yes," he replied plainly.

"Oh - thank you." You felt embarrassed knowing that he took the time to be mindful of things that, as an android, he was unaffected by.

Connor started the car and carefully peeled out of the parking lot.

"Your coworkers are very curious of me," Connor observed. You glanced over at him, perfect posture, hands on the wheel in the textbook locations they were supposed to be. You hadn't thought about it when he brought you to his apartment, but Connor drove a manual transmission. It made you wonder if he used his car for work more than he let on. Or maybe he just felt more comfortable like this?

"Yeah, they're just being dorks," you replied softly, tearing your eyes away from him.

"I hope they don't trouble you."

Connor left it unspoken; but, you knew what he was referring to.

"Oh - no, it's not - people are just like that. It has nothing to do with you being an android," you insisted. "You know - they're just being nosy."

"I understand. Officers at the precinct enjoy gossiping about each other's relationships," Connor said, some intrigue in his voice.

"Oh?" You hummed. "What kind of gossip goes on about you?"

"I don't believe they think I am capable of it," Connor explained.

Capable of dating? -of sex? His words brought a frown to your face, not that it was particularly surprising. You had wondered what kind of environment Connor worked in. Was he an equal part of the team or just another android? Somehow, you doubted it was the former. Hank was probably the only one who gave him any respect.

"It doesn't bother me," Connor added, sensing your frustration.

"Oh, I - I shouldn't butt into your job," you said.

"I don't see it as 'butting in'," Connor uttered. His eyes had been focused on the road; but, he let them shift to you for a second. "I like when you ask questions about me."

That made you smile. He said it as if it was something he wasn't quite used to experiencing. "Then, I have something I wanna ask - is there anything you've wanted to do? -something you were afraid to ask about? -or, just, didn't have the chance?"

Connor's LED shifted to yellow for a moment as he pondered your question.

"A concert," he blurted out. Not expecting that answer, you looked over at him, intrigued. He seemed really concentrated, taking your question very seriously.

"They seem overwhelming," he added on with some uncertainty. "But, I think it would be fun to experience something like that," he continued, sounding a bit more confident this time. His LED shifted back to blue.

"You know you said you wanted to treat me to something?" You asked. "Then, let's do a concert."

"Well, I - uhm - wanted it to be something that you wanted," he said, almost apologetically.

"I do," you said with a chuckle, shifting your eyes back to the road. "I haven't been to one since I was a kid. It'll be fun. -and, taking you to your first concert would be an honor."

"I'll do my best to make it enjoyable," he stated - no, promised.

"You don't have to-" you began, cutting yourself off when you realized he wasn't really going to listen. You grumbled quietly to yourself. When your eyes shifted to the android for a second, you caught him smiling.

Sometime later, the car slid into your driveway.

You remained seated, staring ahead like an idiot. Connor didn't say anything, either because he was polite, or because he didn't want to leave.

"Do you wanna come inside and dry off?" you blurted, turning to Connor.

He seemed surprised by your question, eyebrows lifting slightly.

"I - I mean-" you sputtered. Simultaneously, Connor answered, "yes."

You smacked your mouth shut, and Connor uttered, "I don't want to keep you up late?" not very convincingly.

"You wouldn't," you squeaked. "-and some towels to dry your car?"

"T-that would be nice," Connor stated, a little more confidently.

"Y-yea," you stammered before rotating around to slip out of the car. Connor shut it off while you fished your bag out of the backseat and scurried inside.

You tossed your bag onto the dining table - that was never actually used for dining - and made a dash for the master bathroom. After fishing out some towels, you returned to the entryway, where Connor had waited patiently.

"I might have something that fits you if you want a change of clothes?" you offered as you handed him the towels. "I could go look for - uhm..."

You could have smacked yourself being this way. You were dating, had sex, for fucks sake. This shouldn't be so damn hard.

"Thank you," Connor replied, caught off guard by the offer. "Are you s-?"

"It's no trouble," you interrupted him gently, giving him an encouraging nudge.

Connor returned to his car and you sprinted into your bedroom to rummage through your dressers. You definitely had some oversized lounge pants that would fit him. When you fished them out - light grey, strings missing - you tossed them onto the bed and kept digging.

Sure enough, you had a couple white T-shirts leftover from your days in uni. The course demanded white and you decided to buy men's because they were cheaper, and large was the only size they had left at the time. At least, they were going to come in handy again.

The android was waiting in your entryway again when you exited to look for him.

"Hope this is alright?" you offered, holding the clothes up.

He hardly glanced at them. "Anything would be adequate."

Anything? Well, geez, then wear nothing.

-you wanted to say.

"You can come inside," you laughed, gesturing to the hallway that led to your bedroom. Connor followed you through the living room to your bedroom and into the connected bathroom. You set the clothes on the countertop near the sink. When you turned around, Connor was already undressing.

It wasn't new, but-

-it still swarmed your tummy with butterflies.

To distract yourself, and so you wouldn't stare at him stupidly, you retreated to your bedroom to change out of your scrubs and into something more comfortable. Connor stepped out of the bathroom just in time to see you pull a shirt over your head and cover any exposed skin.

You turned to see him standing there, looking almost nervous, out of his element. Up until now, you had only seen Connor dressed prim and proper, or not dressed at all. He looked startlingly good in a plain white shirt and grey lounge pants, or maybe you just liked how domestic it was.

You were about to blurt out a question: to ask him if he was thirsty. When you remembered, he couldn't.

"Oh - uhm - I forgot something," you uttered, stepping towards him.

"What was it?" he asked, brow furrowing. "Do we need to go back to the-"

Connor silenced himself when he saw you leaning in, the look in your eyes ushering him closer. He met you halfway. It was brief, chaste, but enthusiastic. He closed his eyes, and let himself get swept away for a moment. It felt good, maybe better than it did last time because he was starving, something he didn't know he was capable of.

When you leaned back, you uttered against his mouth, "thank you for the ride."

Connor's LED flashed red as he contemplated leaning back in and claiming your mouth again. You were also standing between him and your bed. All it would take was a little nudge to get you falling onto the sheets.

No-

-that was-

-inappropriate.

His LED hummed to yellow and then back to blue as he calmed his processor.

"No need to thank me," he replied, almost robotically.

You turned away, saying over your shoulder, "gonna get a drink."

As Connor followed you into the kitchen, he looked around your house casually. It was simple, furnished lightly, hardly any decorations. Then again, you had just moved back here not too long ago.

In the kitchen, you poured some juice from a pitcher in the fridge, and sipped it. The android joined you in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, posture slouching, collar on the shirt wide enough that it exposed his collar bones.

"Not as fancy as your apartment," you commented, noticing he was looking around.

"I didn't realize it was," he replied, sincere. "Hank referred to it in that sense, as well."

You laughed quietly before chugging the rest of your drink. It was easy to see Hank saying something like that about Connor's apartment. He probably had a few other choice words that Connor decided not to mention.

"I bet you two had some crazy shenanigans when you first met," you said, beaming at Connor.

Connor chuckled warmly, looking down at the floor for a second. "The first night we met, I had - ugh - spilt Hank's drink and he threatened to attack me, and I informed him that I was 'worth a small fortune'."

"Oh?" you chuckled. "How much we talkin' here? I've got student loan debts," you teased, tapping your chin in faux consideration.

The corner of Connor's lip twitched. "Are you plotting to get rid of me for a profit?" he asked, voice lowering an octane. It was clear he was joking, but there was something a little dangerous to his tone.

"Maybe-" you laughed.

"Because that is very illegal," Connor explained. The laughter drained from your face and you stared at him, very much enjoying the change in tone in his voice. His eyes were the only indicator that he wasn't being serious. Something mischievous was in his gaze.

You saw his LED fade form blue to yellow as he continued, "as an officer of the law, I would have to arrest you for conspiring to comit a crime." His slight grin broke the tension in his voice.

"What if I said I was sorry?" you offered, stepping into his space. Connor looked down at you, crossed between predatory and innocent. Sometimes, it startled you how he managed to look like a seasoned detective and eager rookie at the same time.

He had a few inches on you. You loved how he had to crane his neck a little to catch your eyes.

"You can't bribe me," he uttered carefully.

You hummed, accepting the challenge that Connor had not realized he made. Your hands fell onto his chest, slowly falling down the material of the shirt, testing the waters. Connor let you, standing stiffly against the counter. He was staring at you fiercely.

What if-

Would he like it if-

Part of you was afraid he would be uncomfortable by the suggestion. Part of you wanted to take the risk.

The look in Connor's eyes changed drastically when you slowly sunk to the ground in front of him, like he suddenly had no idea what was going on.

"Ugh-" he stammered when your hands lowered to the hem of his shirt, pushing the fabric up and out of the way to dig your fingers into the hem of his sweatpants. He was already pitching a tent, you realized, as your face lowered to crotch level.

Oh-

-he definitely knew what was going on.

Connor gripped the edge of the counter for dear life. "I-I was just joking," he stammered out. "You don't have to-"

"I know," you replied, giving him a very real smile.

Connor visibly relaxed, his panicked eyes shifting between your eyes and your mouth. You saw his adam's apple bob, a gesture that he had no need for, being an android.

"Do you want me to stop?" you asked, hands stopped at his waist.

His LED flashed to red for a second before returning to its golden hue. "No," he replied lowly.

Connor looked incredibly nervous despite the fact that this wasn't your first sexual encounter together. He had given you amazing lip service last time, and you were dying to return the favor. You didn't exactly get the opportunity to appreciate his anatomy properly.

You slipped the hem of his lounge pants down until his cock bobbed free. He wasn't fully hard yet, which surprised you because you didn't know that was an option. You had anticipated it would behave like an on and off switch; however, it seemed that you had misjudged the intricacies of his anatomy.

You pressed a kiss to the tip and heard Connor sharply suck a breath in through his nose.

"You okay?" you uttered, your lips still close, knowing full well he would feel your breath against his skin.

His LED flickered to red again for a brief second before back to yellow. You were tantalized by the thought of what exactly it was you were doing to him: what buttons were you pushing, what types of thoughts rushed through his mind.

His brown eyes were hypnotizing, more beautiful than anything you had ever seen before and expressive to a fault. They constantly changed between raw hunger and innocent passion.

"Yes," Connor eventually answered.

You ducked your head down to kiss at the base and slowly trailed back to the tip, taking your sweet ass time to mask the fact that you were admiring him.

You wrapped your dominant hand around him, reveling in the feel of his skin. It was smooth, velvety, dragged along the artificial organ beneath. It was easy, very easy, to forget that his cock wasn't real. It was indistinguishable from any human's.

He had freckles on his thighs, like sprinklings of spilt coffee, and freckles in the dip where his thigh met his torso. His pubes were neatly assembled around his base and trailed up to end beneath his belly button, soft but still wiry like real hair.

-somebody took the time to make him look this, you realized.

You had to force that thought away. This wasn't about that, this was about him.

You pushed those thoughts away by sucking the tip into your mouth and sinking halfway down, forcing a strangled grunt from the android. You felt him harden fully, stiffening in your mouth. It startled you a little. You shifted back to the tip, lapped your tongue at the underside, and sunk back down. Connor moaned, a staticky, broken sound.

Oh. You had missed those noises: his voice box going on the frits as his processor was too busy focusing on the feelings in his sex to simultaneously deliver proper audio output.

Eager, spurred on by his beautiful noises, you took in as much as you could and near choked, sputtering and coughing when you went too deep.

Connor's hand landed on your shoulder and he huffed out a weak, "a-are you okay?"

You hummed around his member - the vibration briefly putting him on edge - and slid back. Keeping your hand around the spot that you recognized as your limit, you bobbed your head back down, till your lips met your palm. You stroked what your mouth couldn't fit.

Connor's hand maneuvered off your shoulder to the back of your head, where he caressed you with the type of loose touch that suggested he was afraid to grab you too hard. He stared like he was possessed, awestruck at the sight of his cock disappearing past your lips, overwhelmed by the simple fact that you wanted to do this to him.

He wasn't sure why-

You had engaged in intercourse-

-but this-

-this was different.

Connor was released into the world with a different understanding of humans compared to most androids. While he was given instructions on who to obey and when, he wasn't exactly made to serve humans, at least not traditionally as most androids were.

That translated to having a knowledge for social issues that most androids did not.

As such, he knew full well that there was a power dynamic in this action, one that could be perceived as degrading. You were on your knees, servicing his phallus with your mouth-

-surrendering of power.

-giving of trust.

But, when he took in the sight of you, cheeks flushed pink, lips swollen from the friction, eyes closed peacefully and brow lowered in concentration - you seemed pleased at the opportunity to do this to him. Maybe Connor understood; after all, he had dived face first into your sex the second it was presented to him.

Lost in his thoughts - trying not to be lost in his thoughts - trying not to overanalyze, or analyze at all - Connor failed to realize he had been puffing out little noises through his mouth each time his cock slid back into your mouth. It was a faint sound that resembled an inhale.

You heard it, and you loved it - you loved that you could do that to him: this powerful android.

His fingers were tangled loosely in your hair, barely holding on, mostly as a gesture of praise than to maintain control. You did, however, notice the faint way his hips shifted forward slightly, urging you to continue when you sunk back down. You cupped your free hand over his hip and uselessly attempted to hold him down. He seemed to notice, eventually, and suddenly halted his movements.

In your enthusiasm, you managed to drool all over him. Excess saliva coated your palm, which aided in jerking him off. Your hand trailed behind your mouth when you slid back and forth, creating a symphony of lewd, wet noises. You paused to suction tightly around him and carefully draw back to the tip. Connor hissed out a loud, staticky, "aahhhh."

He was trying to watch you; but, as his orgasm approached, his optic sensor began to fail him. He could feel the tension rising in his core, his thirium pump overexerting to keep up with the demand on his processor. His sensor's focus was shifting to his cock, the feeling of the countertop digging into his back starting to go numb.

Connor's fingers suddenly tightened against the back of your head, the pads of his fingers gently digging into your skull. He seemed like he couldn't decide if he wanted to pull you off or push you down.

"W-wa - s-stop," he panted. "-m close-"

You pulled off with an obscene, wet sound, giving him just the slightest break, enough to refocus his eyes. Your hand lowered for a second to cup his sack. Of course, that felt as real as it looked. You squeezed gently and saw his jaw tighten.

"Why do you want me to stop?" you uttered, voice a little hoarse. You almost didn't recognize yourself, sounding so sinful.

"I want to..." he responded lowly, trailing off as you started stroking him again, tugging gently at his shaft. Connor didn't know what the correct answer was. He wanted to touch and please you, too; but, he wasn't being entirely selfless. He wanted to take you again.

"What's your refractory period?" you uttered, sounding quite debauched, lips wet and jaw tired.

Connor gawked at you for a moment, and you ate up that delicious expression. He looked fucked out of his mind, gaze hazy and cheeks red.

"4.27 seconds," he answered lowly.

You almost laughed. He definitely searched his manual for the answer to that.

"Then, come for me," you encouraged, immediately drawing him back into your mouth. It startled a moan out of him.

You were more enthusiastic this time, drawing in as much as you could and sliding back tightly, mouth hot and dripping wet with saliva. The sensation started to claw its way through him again.

He didn't have to obey humans anymore. He broke down every wall that his programming had built up around his free will. However, your gentle command, breathed like a plea on his skin, spurred him on. He doubted he could stop even if he wanted to.

Connor let go of your head and let his hand slide down your back, settling at the top of your spine. He hunched over, thighs trembling and groaning, something like the thrum of an engine rumbling in his chest, mingled with the voice of his audio output unit and the mechanical pieces in his chassis. He moaned hoarsely, a sound that wasn't quite human. His hips shifted, bucking gently into your mouth, as he chased the sensation.

It shouldn't have-

-but fuck if it didn't make your clit throb painfully.

You slid back to the tip so you could look up and catch the sight of him doubled over in pleasure. His eyes were squeezed shut, jaw clenched, LED shining magnificent crimson. There was a faint red tint to his cheeks and the tops of his ears. Fuck, he looked beautiful - and you, you did that.

You fluttered your eyes shut and continued working him over through his orgasm, until he relaxed against the counter, straightening his posture. His hand maneuvered around to cup your jaw and gently pull you off of him. He was huffing in air to cool his systems, eyes taking in your face with adoration.

"You okay?" you asked lowly, ignoring the ache in your jaw and the numbness in your mouth from the friction.

"Y-yeah," he breathed.

He reached for you with his other hand, bending over slightly to help you rise off your knees. As soon as you were standing, his arms wrapped around your back and tugged you in. He claimed your mouth hungrily. You reciprocated as best you could, feeling less like you were being kissed and more like you were being devoured, not that you minded.

Your hands gripped his shoulders for dear life while one of his hands maneuvered to the back of your neck, holding gently to keep you where he wanted you. He liked how puffy your lips felt, tasting you with the knowledge that you were just tasting him - that this sinful mouth brought him to completion - that you wanted to do that to him.

Rutting against each other in the kitchen, you realized he was still hard as steel between you. Either taking consideration for the question you had asked him... or, maybe, he decided that he just wasn't done with you yet.

Connor pulled back when you started huffing pathetic breaths of air through your nose. You gasped when your mouth was finally free.

"Sorry - sorry," he stammered out.

You huffed a short, breathless laugh. Sorry for wanting you so bad... the nerve.

Connor ducked his head down into your neck and lapped his tongue against your throat. You hummed at the sensation, letting your head fall back, easing into the touch.

"Please?" he pleaded into your neck. One of his hands was teasing the hem of your pajama bottoms, right at the base of your spine.

"Mhmm," you hummed pathetically.

The android's hand dipped down, past the hem of your panties and in between your thighs. His longest digit dipped between your folds. You were already dripping wet and slippery with arousal. His finger glided through your folds and found your entrance effortlessly, slipping in with ease.

"Oh," Connor breathed against your throat, surprised by how soaked you were. His breath was hot like the exhaust out of an engine and nearly burned your skin.

You were so, so warm on the inside, walls squishy and compliant to his intrusion. He almost couldn't believe that you had gotten this excited over sucking him off.

He crooked his finger and you cried out, "fuck!" breathless and desperate, clinging to him like you were afraid you were going to fall. He continued that gesture, stretching you tenderly. At this angle, he couldn't reach your clit. But, that was fine; right now, you just wanted him inside you.

"Okay - okay - that's enough," you urged, pushing at him until he let go. "Bed - bed - please."

You had intended for Connor to turn around and walk and you would follow behind him; you didn't expect the android to scoop you up and carry you effortlessly through the house.

"Wait - wait," you pleaded before he could set you on the bed. Connor complied and carefully set you down on your feet, looking at you with nervous eyes, as if he had made a mistake.

You gave him a soft smile and then a gentle push and then another, until he got the message and sat down at the edge of the bed. His palms fell into the sheets and he leaned back slightly, staring at you with bright, brown eyes and LED a vibrant gold hue.

You admired him as you slid your bottoms and underwear off, very much enjoying how he looked, seated at the edge of your bed, cock hanging out, hungry look in his eyes.

He was oozing lubrication from the tip in preparation for what was to follow. His eyes didn't leave yours when he reached down to smear it down his shaft. He didn't intend to make a show of it; but, you looked down and stared just a little longer than necessary.

When you approached, he stopped, and let that hand fall back into the sheets. You took hold of his shoulders and carefully climbed onto his lap, thighs on either side of his.

"Oh," Connor sighed, suddenly understanding why you had nudged him onto the bed.

You smiled, feeling like a seductress. Your forehead fell against his and a sigh slipped free when you felt that velvety tip brush against your folds. You shifted your hips and lowered, slowly impaling yourself on his length.

Connor's head fell back and he hummed, groaning low in his throat. The faint distortion in his sound lit a fire in your belly. His hands lifted to brush your thighs, sliding up to settle at your hips. He touched carefully, as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to. The look he was giving you was tantalizing: hunger and adoration.

You gripped his shoulders for balance and slid up until his cock was only halfway inside you before rolling your hips back down. You moaned, fanning hot air over his cheeks. Again, he managed to leave you awestruck.

"Ohh, Connor," you breathed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to bring him in closer.

The android nuzzled his face into your neck, resisting the urge to thrust up into you. Your mouth was warm; but, your sex was burning hot, muscles fluttering around him.

Connor peppered kisses along your jaw, artificial breath heavy on your skin, expelling the heat generated from his processor. You could feel the texture change in his hands when his skin faded away to expose the android flesh beneath. It didn't bother you if he gained pleasure in analyzing you. It must have, for Connor groaned into the skin of your neck.

His hands lifted suddenly, curling beneath the hem of your shirt. You removed your arms from him briefly so he could pull the fabric through and toss it somewhere in the room to be forgotten. Connor's shirt followed soon after.

Your bodies clung together again, chest to chest. This time, Connor's mouth sought out yours. The kiss wasn't particularly wet; but, it was noisy, sloppy, fleshy sounds echoing between you. His hands continued to smooth up and down your back, the rough texture of his android skin leaving goosebumps.

"Is it uncomfortable?" he uttered, some insecurity in this tone. He was so close, his lips brushed yours when he spoke.

"Not at all," you panted against his mouth.

You nudged against him until he complied and leaned back, flat on the bed. You braced your hands on his chassis, palms flat on his chest. Connor stared up at you like he had no idea where he was. His hands continued tracing an invisible trail along your waist and thighs, like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

You rolled your hips, riding him a little more enthusiastically. "Oohh fuck," you uttered, low in your throat, breathlessly. Connor stared, awestruck at the sight of you above him, shifting your hips to take him in deeper, hands pressing down on him. The pleasured look on your face, eyes closed and mouth open, while you took and took was enough to drive him insane.

He was trying to be still, in case this was how you wanted him to be. But, he could sense your frustration, hear it in your voice, feel it in the way your hips shuddered, trying to grind down harder, to get him deeper.

"Please," you whimpered pathetically, eyes fluttering open to look down at him: freckles splattered down his body, muscles tight as the tension rose in his body, pleasure etched across his face.

Connor experimentally lifted his hips to meet yours. Your eyes fell shut and you moaned loudly. Well, he didn't have to be told twice.

After a few thrusts, your hands slipped and you fell on him, chest to chest. Your hands fell onto the sheets and you briefly attempted to sit back up; however, Connor kept the momentum going. Immediately, you gave up and went limp above him, letting him drive into you at the speed he wanted.

You lifted up onto your elbows to kiss him. You missed and pressed a sloppy wet kiss against his cheek. Thinking it was intentional, Connor kissed back against your cheek. You would have laughed if not for the fact that he was churning up your insides.

Your head fell into his hair where you uttered lewd encouragements . "Please - please - mm'close. Con - nor - fuck me - aghh. Don't - stop." He turned his head, lips falling against the shell of your ear. Likely, he intended to say something; however, all that came out was static. Of all things, it was that that pushed you over the edge. You panted and wheezed above him, shuddering violently. Connor could feel it in the thundering of your heartbeat and the way your walls tightened around him.

Connor's head tilted back, pressed down into the sheets, and his eyes pinched shut. His LED was a magnificent shade of crimson.

When he finally stilled, his hands were still holding your waist.

"Connor?" you breathed, finding the strength to lean up and look at him.

His eyes were closed and he wasn't moving.

"Connor?" you asked again, some panic rising in your voice. He turned his head with a small twitch, eyes blinking in tune with his LED. The color softened to blue. "Did you soft reboot?" you asked, concern heavy in your tone.

"N-no," the android replied quietly. "Was just..." he trailed off. "Really good."

You exhaled a heavy sigh of relief. "You worried me."

Slowly, carefully, you lifted off of him. The skin on Connor's hands returned, holding you to try to help. Your legs were sore; but, it was worth the hunger satiated in your core.

"What was it you were trying to say earlier?" you asked softly, taking a seat beside him to catch your breath.

Connor was watching you carefully, likely to make sure you were okay. His brow furrowed slightly at your question and he shifted his eyes nervously away from you.

"I wanted to... to say something that you would like," he offered.

"You mean, dirty talk?" you replied softly, voice dripping with interest.

"Yes," he confessed quietly.

"You did that last time, too," you commented, rising to your feet. Connor watched you curiously, waiting for an explanation. "You said there were things you wanted to do me, and when I asked what those were, you didn't answer."

"I'm... afraid I will say something you won't like," he confessed quietly.

"Connor," you said his name breathlessly. "I doubt there's anything you would say that I wouldn't like. Do you wanna run one by me?"

Connor was leaning up, seated at the edge of the bed. You stepped in close to him and caressed his cheek with your hand. Connor leaned into the touch. You loved the way his skin felt, like he had just shaved yesterday morning, even though that was impossible.

His eyes flickered up to yours, uncertainty in them.

"That... you're mine," he uttered quietly, so quietly that you almost didn't hear him. "It feels wrong."

"It can be," you said, honest, sincere. "But, I don't think you mean it that way. You don't ever try to control me or tell me what to do. You're protective and sometimes that can feel possessive and that isn't always a bad thing. You always know what's right and what's wrong, Connor."

"I don't think I always know what's right," he retorted gently. "I don't want to control you." He sounded almost pained by the mere thought of it. "But, sometimes, I feel like..."

"It's new and can be a little scary; but, I trust you, no matter what..."

Connor pressed a kiss against your palm before gently removing your hand from his face. "I don't want to hurt you..."

You rolled your eyes gently, fondly. "You said that last time, too." He was still holding your hand; so, you gently squeezed back. "You care so much about what I want," you breathed. "I know that you would stop if I asked you to. I want you to feel comfortable with me - that you can be yourself..."

Connor's eyes shot up to your face. "I do," he proclaimed, sounding almost insulted at the suggestion. "I just - I-... I don't want to lose control."

You returned beside him on the bed.

"-of myself," he added on.

"Connor," you began fiercely. He seemed a bit surprised by your tone change. "We all feel that way sometimes: afraid we'll lose ourselves. I'm not telling you to not be afraid, just that-... -that-... -that you aren't alone."

His LED shined yellow for a moment, eyes focused on yours as he pondered over your words. His LED shifted back to blue and his shoulders relaxed. The android leaned in and nuzzled his nose against your cheek. You smiled at the intrusion.

"Connor?" you whispered, questioning, hopeful.

"Thank you," he murmured against your skin.

“Are you okay?” you asked, leaning back to look into his eyes.

“I feel better,” he uttered.

You nodded, maintaining his gaze for a few seconds longer, hoping that he would tell you if something was wrong. He seemed more relaxed now, brown eyes warm and inviting. To further prove his point, Connor stole a quick kiss from your lips, then another, and one last one.

You pulled back with a smile and rose to your feet. "I better get to bed... You-... you can-... -whatever you'd like." You wanted to ask him to stay, but wanted him to make that decision without your interference.

"I'd like to stay?" he asked sincerely. “I’ll have to leave before you get up...”

You nodded with a smile and retreated into the bathroom to clean up and brush your teeth. When you returned, Connor was already tucked into the sheets, like he belonged there. You turned the lights off before joining him.

"Do you have a band you want to see?" you uttered tiredly into your pillow.

"Not in particular," he answered quietly, shuffling in close to nuzzle up against your back. His bare legs tangled with yours, having ditched the lounge pants. You smiled against your pillow, thinking that maybe there was no point in suggesting clothes since you had a track record of ending up this way.

"My favorite band is Starset if you want to try them out?" you offered, pausing halfway to yawn.

Connor nodded into the flesh of your shoulder. He waited patiently until your breathing pattern shifted, telling him that you were asleep.

He searched the internet for that band and immediately recognized one of the members as an android. He wondered if it was a coincidence that you enjoyed music made by an android. Or, maybe, all things considered, that made perfect sense.

The first song that came up was titled 'Starlight'. He listened to it in its entirety and found the lyrics left a strange hole in his chest.

♪ ♫ “So say the word and I'll be running back to find you...

A thousand armies won't stop me - I'll break through...

I'll soar the endless skies for only one sight...

Of your starlight...” ♫ ♪

[pandoraborn]

Disclaimers: Based on a headcanon that Wilbur is autistic, and a chance for me to ventfic about sensory overload, because shit’s a bitch. Slight IRL based, with computers and streaming, etc. Though based around SBI family dynamics (they’re a family your honor). No actual CC’s involved in this fic, thank you.

word count: 1014 words starring: Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit content: autistic!wilbur, sensory overload, anxiety, panic attack, detailed descriptions of sensory overload, please be safe.

-------------------

It’s not like his head is pounding with unchecked pain, it’s quite painless up there. Still, the computer screen is too bright, the humming of his computer too loud, the lights in his room even brighter than the screen, somehow-

By all rights, he feels as though his head has no business not headaching. This should be earning himself a migraine, and Wilbur wants to feel one. It would make sense, it would feel natural in this state. But the lack of any actual pain is just calling to attention the pain he’s feeling all the same.

It really doesn’t help that he’s in the middle of a stream, and Tommy’s voice is laugh-screeching in his ears, all over another stupid joke Tubbo made. Tubbo’s jokes aren’t stupid, normally Tubbo is hilarious but-

“Wilbur, you haven’t said anything for a couple of minutes, you good man?” Tommy’s character turns to face his, and Wilbur realizes he’s been frozen in place for a long time. He glances over at his chat to see it flying by. People are mocking him, people are saying he looks tired, and others are asking if he’s okay.

“I think I’m going to end stream,” he forces himself to say. “I feel awful suddenly. I’m sorry Tommy, I know-”

“It’s okay Wil. Go take care of you.” Tommy sounds...unusually calm. Does he know what Wilbur is feeling? It’s unlikely, even though he’s only a couple of rooms over.

Wilbur doesn’t respond to Tommy, but he does mute himself and switch off of Minecraft, focusing the screen on his camera. “Sorry chat, I know it’s only been a half hour, but I’m going to call it. Thanks for tuning in today, I’ll be back at some point in the future.”

With a forced smile and a wave goodbye, he ends the stream. He waits for his chat to trickle to a crawl, before ceasing all conversation as people migrate to other streamers. He realizes he didn’t even raid anyone.

He sits in his computer chair far longer than intended. Even with his computer shutting down, he can still hear the hum. The lights are still too bright, and now Wilbur just feels wrong. It’s hard to tell what the source of wrong is, but he’s rubbing at his arms and breathing way too fast. His arms feel too itchy, too tight, and he’s now realizing his skin itself is uncomfortable. He can’t take it off, he can’t... take it offtakeitofftakeitoff-

“Wilbur?”

Tommy’s voice is interrupting him, far too quiet above the roaring in his head. Wilbur jerks his head to the side, trying to get away from that pounding racket that is his brother’s voice. Is he whimpering? He doesn’t know what the noises coming out of his mouth are, only that he’s panicking, he’s spiraling, everything is too bright and too loud and too close and-

“Wilbur!” Tommy’s fingers are prying at his own, peeling them away from reddening skin. Wilbur recoils, letting out a dry sob as the very touch from his brother sends waves of pain up and down his body. Not pain, but more wrong.

“Tommy, don’t,” he chokes out. “I’m-”

“Oh.” Tommy lets go and backs up. Wilbur can see him doing this, and the distance immediately has him feeling better. It’s one less sensation that’s being thrown at him. Then, the lights are off. It’s another sensation gone, but it’s not an immediate fix. Wilbur wants to curl up on the floor and wail and cry, but he can’t move from his chair. Even the chair feels wrong. The clothes against his skin feel wrong.

“Where’s your weighted blanket?” Tommy asks. He’s whispering, his voice is far too quiet and soothing, and suddenly, instead of being a source of agony, it’s a source of comfort, and Wilbur is latching onto it, trying to keep himself grounded. He needs to focus on what’s in front of him instead of the roaring painful chaos echoing around his head.

“Dunno,” Wilbur returns. Downstairs, he can hear the sound of a dish clattering in the sink. He hunches over, gripping his arms to try and keep himself from trembling. It’s not working. It’s especially not working because Tommy is forcefully pulling him away from the chair and toward his bed. He struggles weakly, letting out a half whimper, half sob. The contact is immediately dropped when he’d pushed into his bed, with his weighted blanket being dropped on top of him. Wilbur wraps himself up tightly, taking solace in the heaviness that settles over him. Under here, nothing can hurt him. He doesn’t even feel the urge to rip himself out of his own skin.

He waits for Tommy to say something again, just so he’d have an excuse to lash out or snap, but instead, he hears a fan being turned on for white noise, followed by the sound of his bedroom door closing. He pokes his head out with a frown, but he’s alone in his room, with the lights off.

Wilbur realizes his phone is still at his desk, but that’s probably a good thing. The screen would just send him into a panic all over again, and he really just needs to relax. Burying himself again, he focuses on the sound of the fan. It’s helping, somewhat. He can still hear Tommy faintly laughing, he can still hear footsteps from downstairs, along with banging. Life in his house isn’t going to stop because he’s stupid, but at least the sounds aren’t hurting as much anymore.

Closing his eyes, he lets out a shaky sigh. He’s finally starting to relax, trembling slowing to a crawl, much like his chat had done earlier. But now, with his body no longer so tense, and things no longer so bright, he can feel the faint beginnings of a headache forming.

For some reason, that brings the biggest bit of comfort he’s felt in minutes. Tangible pain is easiest to deal with. Dealing with that makes everything else seem small in the long run, and that means he’ll be okay.

[wlntrsldler]

unrequited (draco malfoy/ cedric diggory series)

PROMPT: You and Cedric grew up together. After the tragedy of the Triwizard Tournament, you’re left feeling empty without your best friend. Draco Malfoy steps into the picture. Will the feelings be reciprocated? Or will it be unrequited?

WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, angst, fluff, sadness???

PAIRING: draco malfoy x reader and cedric diggory x reader; hufflepuff reader

WC: 2.2K+

UNREQUITED MASTERLIST

-

PART 6

You walked past Myrtle’s lavatory, expecting her to be alone. You slowed down once you heard her sweet voice in the midst of a conversation with someone else. You heard Draco’s voice, panicked and erratic, ranting to Myrtle about the letter he received from his father a few days ago. You didn’t know Draco knew of Myrtle, much less be friends with the ghost. 

“Myrtle,” You heard Draco say. He ran his fingers through his blond hair, eyes struck with terror. He dropped his head in his hands, voice muffled by his palms, but not to the point where you could no longer hear him. “They want me to become one of them and I-” He took in a sharp breath, looking up at the ghost who was working to console him. “I don’t think I can do it.” 

“So don’t do it, Draco.” She offered, not truly understanding the extent of his task. 

“It’s not that simple.” Draco didn’t tell her the full truth, in fear that he might lose the only friend he’s made in Hogwarts. It was odd, their friendship, but somehow it worked out for the best. “I can’t disappoint my family.”

Draco stumbled upon Myrtle in his first year, ashamed that Harry rejected his offer of friendship. It shouldn’t have mattered to him as much as it did but it was his first encounter with the people he was going to spend years of his life with and he already managed to mess it up. His mother had placed a kiss on his temple before he left for Hogwarts, reminding him that he’ll be alright. He missed her terribly, his mother. She was the only one who showed him love all his life. 

His mother and father would argue downstairs, loud and booming voices shaking the portraits mounted on their walls. The house was large, abnormally large for their small family. Draco would try to distract himself in his bedroom with Dobby the House Elf. He played games with the elf, trying to preserve as much of a childhood as he could while his parents screamed bloody murder below him. Dobby would offer a sincere smile, placing a hand over young Draco’s shoulder in comfort. Draco would feel bad whenever Dobby showed him kindness, always vividly remembering how he would mistreat Dobby in front of his father. The elf didn’t seem to mind. 

When he got to Hogwarts, he got tired of the Slytherin boys quickly. All of them kissed the ground he walked on, trying to get on his good side so they’ll have the honor to say that they’re associated with the Malfoys in one way. Draco hated it. He just wanted a friend, not followers. But he realized it would have to do for now. He’s bound to make friends somehow, right?

The adventurous child he was, he explored Hogwarts on his own. That’s when he found the abandoned lavatory, closed off from students. He walked in, hoping to get some peace and quiet, humming the tune his mother used to sing to him when he was a child. He walked around, playing with the knobs and switches he found inside before being startled by Myrtle emerging from one of the toilets. 

At first Draco was defensive, refusing to be friends with a ghost, but when Myrtle offered him friendship, his lonely heart couldn’t help but accept. Draco taught her the song he was humming after Myrtle expressed her enjoyment of it. He spent the rest of the day there, talking to Myrtle about how he missed his mother and how all he wanted was one friend. 

During the second week of his first year, he saw you. That’s the first time you caught his eye. You were sitting beside a boy- whom Draco later learns is Cedric Diggory- smiling and laughing at a joke the boy told. He thought you were beautiful. Yellow was your color. 

He tried to look for you in his classes and was disheartened when he realized you were in none of his. So every night, without fail, he would search for your shining smile throughout the Great Hall. Even just a glimpse of you would make Draco’s day. He would never admit it but even at a young age, he knew he wanted to be with you. 

But of course, you were in love with Cedric Diggory. Everyone could see that and Draco knew he had no chance of being with you, not that he would ever put himself out there like that. Him with a half-blood Hufflepuff? His father would throw a fit. So Draco knew what he needed to do- admire you from afar. 

Over the years, Draco started to visit Myrtle less and less; not because he found friends of his own but because people started noticing the absence of the Slytherin prince more often. He did try to visit Myrtle at least twice a month, especially when he was growing tired of putting up the Malfoy facade he had to wear. He would tell Myrtle about the girl he was smitten with, never letting your name slip out of his lips once. She would giggle, not taking the young boy’s declarations too seriously. Draco was happy for that, oddly enough. He was afraid that if Myrtle ever encouraged him to go after you, he’d do exactly that and end up with a broken heart. He wasn’t ready for that, knowing his heart wasn’t near being whole yet. 

He didn’t speak to you for the first few years, never having the right excuse to do so. However, in your fourth year you started to befriend the Trio. It gave him the opportunity to talk to you. He knew he would seem suspicious if he was rude to the Trio but spared you from the insults so he decided to pick on you too. He always did try to keep it fairly mild, opting to call you a “pathetic Hufflepuff,” which is significantly nicer than what he called your friends. 

But when you all weren’t looking, Draco stared at you longingly. He looked at the Trio, jealous of their bond and loyalty towards each other. Sometimes he wonders if things would’ve been different if he just didn’t let his father’s smug voice do the talking for him the first time he met Harry. He looks at them, seeing the life that he wishes he had- maybe the life he could’ve had if he wasn’t a Malfoy. He would turn his head and see you and Cedric, love practically shooting out of your eyes. Draco would drop his head in envy, wishing that he was worthy enough to feel such love. Maybe not today, he would reassure himself to stop the tears, but maybe one day. 

Soon, he would repeat that to himself. 

When he found out Diggory died, a part of him was relieved. He liked to think that was the side he got from his father. He wasn’t that heartless. He wasn’t heartless at all. But he can’t lie and say he mourned for the Hufflepuff boy because he didn’t. He barely knew Cedric, the Golden Boy. He never even spoke to him directly. Draco didn’t feel the need to mourn. 

But when he saw you the following day, hobbling out of Hogwarts, his heart broke into pieces. You left the year early, unable to stay on the grounds without bursting into tears. He began to think of you and the pain it must’ve caused you. No, Draco wasn’t heartless. 

He saw you the next year, standing in the garden in a robe too big. It was the first time he saw you since that day. His heart gave out on him. The girl he knew barely there. You were just a shell of her, walking around aimlessly through life. The look of love in your eyes was replaced with emptiness. It was almost as if they changed colors, sucking the life out of you. You were wearing Cedric’s robe, he was sure of it. He let you go that night, knowing Umbridge was the last thing you needed to deal with. 

“Draco?” Myrtle called again, waving her hand in front of his face. “Are you there?”

He regained his train of thought, “Sorry?”

“I said just play it by ear, then.” She repeated. “See what happens when you get back home this summer.” 

You decided to walk in, having done enough creeping for the day. “Draco? Myrtle?”

Draco snapped up, grabbing his wand to point it at you. He lowered his hand when he realized it was you, “Merlin, Y/N. Don’t scare people like that.” 

“Sorry,” You replied sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

He tried his best to avoid you since Potions, not knowing what to do now that he’s faced with a realization. Draco didn’t know if he loved you. How could he when he had no model of comparison? He’s never known what love was. All he knew was that he felt something in his chest every time he saw you, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. The day in Potions when he smelled you in his Amortentia was an awakening for him. Maybe he did love you… but it wasn’t like he knew how to deal with that, much less act on it. 

He looked at you, the blush on his cheeks spreading down to his neck, as Myrtle’s wondering eyes flickered between the two of you. “It’s alright. What are you doing here?”

You smiled shyly, pointing up at Myrtle. “Wanted to talk to my friend but I see she’s a bit preoccupied.” 

“Nonsense, I was just on my way out.” Draco shook his head, making his way out the door. “I’ll talk to you soon Myrtle.” 

As he was half-way out of the door, Myrtle called out for him. He turned around to respond. She gave him a look as if to ask, “Is this her?” He merely nodded, ducking his head to prevent you from seeing the blush on his cheeks. He waved a small goodbye and walked out of the lavatory. 

You let your eyes linger at the spot where Draco last stood. Once you peeled your eyes away, you grinned at Myrtle, who returned the favor. 

“What’s going on, Y/N?” She asked. You could tell her focus has been split between you and whatever her and Draco were talking about before your interruption. You couldn’t blame her, you seemed to have forgotten your reason for searching for her. 

You shrugged, “Just wanted to say hello.” 

“Well, hello, Y/N.” She replied, still only half there. She began to float around the lavatory, staring out the windows. 

You sat on the floor, watching her. Cedric’s journal was placed on your lap, waiting to be opened. You looked down at it and flipped to the page where you last left off. You’ve been reading it quite a bit since the first day you did. It was comforting, having a piece of him still with you. A piece that was authentically him, not just something you fabricated in his death. It was actually a part of him. You didn’t need to search too far. 

You’ve gotten to the part before your first year at Hogwarts. He spent the day comforting you as you cried to him, worried that you’d be placed in a house different from him. Or worse, a house that reflected your family history. You didn’t want that. Cedric held you in his arms and told you that you’re a Hufflepuff, no matter what anyone says or what history wrote. You were a Hufflepuff. 

You scanned the page, noting some lines that caught your attention:

“Y/N got sorted as a Hufflepuff. I knew she would.” 

“My best friend is at Hogwarts with me. Life just got so much better.” 

“I’m taking her to the secret passageway tonight. I hope she likes it.” 

You thought about the first time Cedric took you there. You were a goody-two-shoes, to say the least. You were worried someone was going to catch you out there late at night but he assured you that you’d both be alright. You sat beside him, admiring him as he picked wildflowers from the area beside you. He gave them to you, tucking one behind your right ear, then doing the same to himself. You giggled at his action and rolled the lone flower between the pads of your fingers. 

He sighed, wrapping an arm around your body as you laid your head on his shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re here.” 

“Me too, Ced.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Myrtle situated herself beside you. She hummed a familiar tune as she made her rounds in the room. A switch flipped in your brain, suddenly remembering where you heard Draco’s song before. Myrtle was humming it the day you met her.

“Myrtle?” You asked.

“Mhm?”

“Was Draco the friend that taught you that song?”

“Indeed.” 

“I didn’t know you two were friends.” You admitted, a little shocked at what you found out today. 

“Like I told you before Y/N,” She said, a sad smile playing on her lips. “A lot of lonely souls find their way to me.”

-

TAGLIST IS OPEN! SEND AN ASK!

@melancholiaflowers @jjjmaybank @marshxx @truly-insatiable @poisoned-pineapple @i-mmunity @p0gue420 @dark-night-sky-99 @hvrcruxes

[nobody-knose--archive]

i’ve been aching to commentate spirit phone’s commentary for ages. glad i finally got around to it, this was an ejoyable experience. liveblog below the cut

-i'm like half certain i've heard this commentary before. maybe not the whole way through & it was probably actual years ago

-nice hearing stuff like this. in-depth personal view of the album-making process. makes it seem like more of a real thing i could do myself someday

-neil cicierega real person momence

-i could probably go real in depth about neil cicierega/tally hall parallels specifically concerning like. the arc of their musical careers. but i won't, here

-wild how i legitimately don't care much about micheal jackson

-didnt we get a bunch of spirit phone stems from the needlejuice release/his patreon? we could probably hear the funny track he speaks of here in that

-i love hearing musical artists, especially neil cicierega, talking about the meanings of their songs. like, not only has this song been claimed to hell & back by the tumblr gays, but with later ones i just can't see where he gets these ideas from. also, claiming there's any one meaning or plot to a song just seems silly to me

-shoutout to neil reusing a midi from like, 1998, that he made at 12 years old, whose entire melody was reused for the main verses of everybody loves raymond. loved finding that out on my own 2 years ago. now it's common trivia in this fandom. not bad times

-it'd be neat if neil did individual trans tracks here like he did with view monstel, those things are half of why i consider it my favorite album

-it's a lot easier to ignore the creator's intended meaning behind a song when he can't even remember it. thanks neil

-seesaw effect

-and there's my joke all but 1 of my followers wont get. moving on

-what kinds of movie theater lobbies has neil been to where there are arcade machines. i mean im not one to talk but that does sound rather strange

-why do songs' titles even need to be taken from the lyrics. ive never seen that as any sort of requisite. it's like titling any form of prose you can just give it whatever name ya like

-"this part sounds pretty cool right"

-is neil's vocal range only mildly better than mine? with training i could change that

-oh i haven't processed any of the last 25 seconds hold on

-god. a shit ton of vocal modification in this song. it's like neil returned to his roots but with quality this time

-i, as an ace/aro, have never related more to an allohet guy in my life. what is the point of eyes!

-professional humming/whistling takes skill. it's different from the recreational or casual stuff. i'd know

-there's a name for the way sound (especially music) gets distorted when moving past you and i can't remember it but it's probably what neil's referring to here in the way he recorded the intro

(- update: it's the doppler effect no need to tell me cas already did)

-as someone who hasnt seen the rugrats or take me there by blackstreet i'll just say it sounded like a bouncy music box melody. nice to hear a song that messes with the typical scales though. lydian & diatonic.

-that's a rather specific thing to be glad about, but given what he talked about in his last full audio commentary about the jew harp i suppose i'm not surprised

-i know that tmbg song now. listened to it & saw the music video too. yep they're different alright

-where the hell does neil get all these instrumence from anyway

-huh. hadnt heard this part of the commentary before making my oc concerning this song but i like to hear neil's approval concerning part of my interpretation

-i love how ive heard a billion different tellings of this mellified man story from lem dem fans talking about this song and neil's is by far the wildest

-good god that does only make it worse neil

-i love making liveblogs of lemon demon albums. with the fullerenes or tally hall i cant name a specific dude to take out my woes on generally but with lemon demon i can just say neil all the time. i like being on a casual first name basis with this dude ive never interacted with once ever

-is sweet bod the one other than cabinet man with a demo in the bonus tracks? i forget

-holy shit the boston molasses disaster someone call up soapy if it doesnt already know, it'd love this

-two thousand nine. god i miss the fiddle solo. the ver with it is truly the best one

-he pronounces it jeff? i've always read it as gef with a hard g. that's what i get for knowing words that are never spoken aloud

-that's a fun meta interpretation of this ghost story that's over a century old. i like that

-i've noticed neil generally does the same synths across a whole album. it's especially more clear in the earlier ones, and does mean i occasionally mix up songs between clown circus & live from the haunted candle shop

-ah! ancient aliens! my least favorite track on this album. i cant even claim to have the least interest in a popular one i've just generally not liked this one much from the beginning. so im curious to see what neil's got to say, i think ive been in ~new commentary zone for a while now

-anyway. newest update on the loolin not realizing a song's funky time signature front: i think this one's in 6/4. or at least switches a lot between time signatures. granted i dont listen to it very often for the reasons stated above

-see the way neil describes it. eldritch horror upon being visited by the unknown at a time when humanity'd hadn't even yet had a chance to imagine such a thing occurring. should be right up my alley. but the sound itself & many of the lyrics simply turn me away.

-must i specify i don't dislike it? spirit phone is neil's best album it not being my favorite doesn't mean i think it's bad yadda yadda nobody should be surprised by this it's not like anyone in these fandoms reads my liveblogs <3

-granted i think this is. the first bit of spirit phone content i've made on my blog ever. so who knows things can change <3

-the transitions in spirit phone are much less view-monster transition tracks & more extended outros. view-monster's were a bit more intro than outro sure but they also seemed directed upon making a 2-way rather than 1-way bridge between tracks. or something like that

-.............soft fuzzy man is an incredible nickname for a cat. i'd steal that if i werent afraid of introducing my relatives to lemon demon

-jirls

-an underlying metaphor is good enough. the literal side of the lyrics are fun. nothing but agreement here neil my good man

-the transition into as your father i expressly forbid it from soft fuzzy man is the best one in this album

-buddy you ask if a musical idea has been used before odds are the answer is yes in this day & age the question is has it been used in the way you're using it. like sure this soul jazz record from the 60s that was sold out in kansas stores for a week used this bassline that youve found yourself copying. but seeing as youre using it in some angsty garage rock ballad type tune does anybody actually care

-doesn't everybody like to say things in an unhinged manner from time to time

-imagine having a guitar dad, i say, with my dad being a folk accordion/fiddle dad, which is infinitely worse in every way

-i think he was in an actual folk band at some point. idk the 90s were weird

-iron my life?

-m-more intimate? there are a lot of ways i'd describe this song but intimate isn't one of them. granted as your father is negatively intimate so from there i guess you've got nowhere to go but up

-...still glad to see his interpretation kinda supports my oc at least

-the way he says characters in songs shouldn't worry about death really strongly makes me think this is some sort of. thematic continuation of stuck from dinosaurchestra, even if there's no real death in there. interesting. would also mean that the dad from these past 2 songs is named carlos betty (no last name)

-i literally never assumed this was a flute solo. piccolo at best. it's pretty clearly a recorder

-my mom plays the recorder. i wonder if she can play recorder better than neil cicierega

-we can throw a party in honor of the crushing weight of responsibility! i simply won't be the one throwing it because i have enough on my plate already <3

-what the hell does "a sense of intent" mean

-i've never heard rush before however i disagree with neil's understanding of 6/4. 6/4 is meant to have emphasis (onbeat or another term i can't remember) on the 1st & 4th beat of every measure, which is greatly different from a measure of 4/4 then a measure of 2/4. it's why his 5/4 always sounds weird, because while it's recognizable in sequences of 10/4, it's more 2 measures of 4/4 with one of 2/4 tacked on the end. that's also how it's different from 3/4. i don't know much music theory but what i do understand i will fight to the death about

-"canonized" that's. a very interesting term to use when referring to a former president

-from now on i will interpret every love song directed at some unseen "you" to be inviting me to marry them for tax purposes. thanks neil for being an aromantic icon

-ah hell yes hell yes man-made object is my favorite goddam song on this album

-short & sweet & good damn vibes. neil's thoughts on it all are only making it better

-wild how he uses very few vocal effects for a song that he clearly is straining his vocal range for. go off neil

-the qualifier of man-made is a wonderful thing. oldest or biggest thing? oldest or biggest man-made thing? what a incredibly important specification. a world of possibilities lie between the two. oh i love it

-just gets me thinking yknow! what we consider weird/impressive in another species, in our own species- what kind of equivalent to that would there be from an outsider looking in? are there alien versions of the significances we place upon things, that we could never imagine? the limits of the human imagination mean we could never conceive of something else in the world that isn't, in some way great or small, just like us- and are we wrong for thinking that? such a juicy topic i wish there were a name for it because it's kinda hard to explain concisely

-spiral of ants. my second favorite song from this album, in fact. a good one to experience

-the vocals are just another instrument. they really truly are. i wasn't going into this commentary expecting to feel solidarity for neil cicierega in this chili's tonight on more than one occasion but here i am.

-like, his whole stance on interpreting songs is something i agree with almost entirely. you can take it at face value, you can dig to their very depths, you can listen to songs without caring what the lyrics mean whatsoever, and those are all fun. & yeah while any of these people can be annoying as one of the types who enjoys gliding on the surface more than anything i find those who dedicate themselves to figuring out the whole meaning of a song over anything else to be both slightly scary & slightly annoying <3 keep up the good work

-i want to make songs for my siblings the way neil makes songs for his sibling(s)

-spinch

-neil really shouldn't be allowed to be this funny like this whole album youre thinking golly! he's just a normal man this neil cicierega! and then he starts listing the cat hacks jokes & you remember he's had ridiculously consistent viral success with all his humorous endeavors and holy shit it's neil cicierega in action talking about his music. god bless you neil

-you're welcome, no problem, my pleasure. good eveternoon, radio audience!

[redhoodedwolf]

Prompt: They both keep asking each other out but thinking the other one is rejecting them and lydia has to like banshee scream some sense into them or something

“So, what are you doing this weekend?”

Stiles scoffed, tossing the lacrosse ball back up towards the ceiling and catching it narrowly before it smacked him on the nose on the way down. “Not going on a date,” he said, somewhat bitterly. It’d been over three months since the last one of those and he’s starting to take it personally. Is he no longer attractive? Did moving in with his dad while he goes through surgery recovery really demote his worth?

Derek was quiet for a moment, probably engrossed in his bestiary research again. When Stiles turned onto his side on the bed and glanced at him, he caught Derek’s eyes flitting back down to the book. “I see,” the werewolf said a beat later, no emotion readable in his voice.

Stiles continued to stare at him, mostly unabashedly, noting how Derek’s fingers curled over one corner of the book, the shadows his dark eyelashes cast over his cheeks, his shoulders bare underneath a tight white tank top.

*

“I am starving,” John Stilinski complained, and Stiles had come to expect this complaint every evening after physical therapy, like clockwork.

Derek, his physical therapist, chuckled as he lowered Stiles’ father into the living room recliner, removing the crutches from his hands. “You did good work today, it’s to be expected.”

“What’s the prognosis, doc?”

Derek ignored the nickname, which Stiles knew five years ago would have garnered even his father the Hale Death Glare. “You’ve got good bones, Sheriff, and they’re healing nicely. In a couple weeks we’ll try to get you walking without the crutches--”

“As long as you continue doing your daily exercises,” Stiles finished Derek’s thought as he brought a healthy plate of fruits and vegetables out from the kitchen to settle onto the table next to his dad’s chair.

Derek nodded at him, a small smile on his lips. His eyes were sparkling with mirth.

Stiles felt the words tumble out of his mouth, “We should go get dinner. Together,” he tacked on when he got control of his mouth again.

Maybe doing this in front of his immobile father wasn’t the best choice, but needs must?

Derek’s smile faltered, and his eyes flicked away from Stiles over to his father and then back to Stiles. Derek cleared his throat, and cast his eyes downward. Stiles pursed his lips.

“We--You shouldn’t leave your dad. He’ll need the pork chops you’ve been defrosting for dinner tonight to help revive him.”

Stiles felt a frozen smile on his face and a similar coolness in his stomach. “Right. Forgot about those.”

*

Danny arched an eyebrow when Stiles slid onto a stool at the bar, and before Stiles could utter a greeting, asked, “Does Lydia know you’re here?”

Stiles blinked. “Um, no? She’s in Boston? Do I need her permission to drink? I’ll have what’s on tap.”

Danny’s eyebrow looked far more judgmental, but he moved to grab a mug for Stiles’ beer and filled it. “I ask because she’s been asking me to keep her up to date with your... shall we say movements here. I don’t think she expected you in a gay bar at night when you could be with someone else.”

Stiles scoffed and took a long drink from his mug. “And who could that be, my dad?”

“Was thinking younger, more scruffy, more fangs,” Danny shot back with, and Stiles’ beer suddenly went down like lava, drying up his insides and instantly draining the life from him.

“No. No, that’s not...” Stiles shook his head, unable to finish.

Danny made a noise, and Stiles looked back up at him.

“Weird. Ran into someone at the grocery store last week, and all he, ehem, they, if we’re still pretending here, talked about was helping you, and why you were in town, and if I had seen you recently.”

Stiles ran a hand over his face. “He’s my dad’s PT, okay? I’m home for my dad. That’s what he cares about. He made that pretty clear.”

Danny refilled his mug without Stiles asking for it, and it made a dull clanking when the full drink hit the bartop. “You asked him out?”

Stiles took the mug into his hands and said nothing.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Look, I know how scarce FMLA time is, even for me, I have no idea how much they give you fancy FBI operatives--”

“They’re actually surprisingly good about it,” Stiles interrupted, a puff to his chest. “That, and they know if they ever want me back, which they do because they need me, then they’ll give me what I want.”

“You have such a confident attitude when it comes to your job,” Danny said, as if his statement had a double meaning. “Expect a call from Lydia tomorrow.”

*

Stiles was in his room the next morning, glad for his foresight the night before to not drink himself into a stupor he hadn’t found himself in since college, window open to let in the morning breeze and the sound of Derek’s voice as he stood on the front porch, talking into his phone.

Derek was early for his dad’s appointment, so Stiles had no qualms about making him wait. He wasn’t ready to face him yet, not without waking up a bit more and removing the images of dream-Derek from his brain.

“Look,” Derek said abruptly, and the sudden clarity of his voice caught Stiles’ attention. “I’ve already gotten a no, okay? I’m not such an asshole as to ask twice.”

Stiles couldn’t see him and didn’t want to move closer to the window, in case Derek heard or sensed him eavesdropping, so he moved about his room as naturally as possible, pulling off his sleep pants and dressing in fresh jeans.

“I don’t know what Danny told you, but--”

Stiles stubbed his toes on the leg of his bed, so he missed the rest of Derek’s sentence as he cursed up a storm mentally and shook out his foot to try and stop the sharp pain.

“We can’t all be special like you.”

Stiles collapsed onto the edge of his bed. He’d barely caught the words coming from Derek, they’d been spoken so gently. Stiles swallowed thickly. Who could Derek be talking to that garnered such respect and tenderness? Maybe Cora?

The doorbell rang downstairs, and his dad called, “Derek’s here!” from the kitchen, meaning “get the door for me I’m finishing up the last of my exercises that I promised I would do yesterday but never did.”

Stiles pulled on a shirt and raced down the stairs, opening the door for Derek in record time. “We should just get you a key to the house,” Stiles half-joked.

There was a look on Derek’s face that Stiles couldn’t read. He also couldn’t tell if it had to do with his phone conversation or seeing Stiles.

Derek glanced up behind him and said, “Your phone is--” he paused and shook his head. “Your dad in the living room?”

Stiles stepped aside and let him in, closing the door behind them. “The kitchen, I think? I just woke up.”

Derek glanced at the hall clock that proclaimed it was almost eleven thirty in the morning. He licked his lips. “Long night?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. “Went out for drinks,” he answered a beat later, spotting his father in the kitchen, crutch under one arm and trying to bend to reach something in the fridge. “Dad, would you let me get it, please?”

“I would if my son didn’t come home in the early hours of the morning, thus sleeping past any kind of respectable time, to help me eat something before my PT appointment. Hello Derek,” his father greeted, smile on his face wavering before he asked, “Everything okay?”

Stiles turned to see Derek’s eyes on the floor as he nodded. “All good, Sheriff. Let’s get you squared away.”

*

Stiles used the appointment time as a reason to escape and get groceries. Halfway to the store, his phone sprang to live, vibrating up a storm in the cup holder. He let the call ring out, but then whoever it was called back immediately. With a sigh, Stiles pulled into the closest parking lot which happened to be for a bank and reached for his phone. He’d assumed it was work calling, but Lydia’s name was flashing on the screen, declaring several missed calls from earlier in the morning as well. He’d recalled Danny’s warning from the night (this morning?) before and groaned, loudly.

When the phone rang again, he picked up immediately. “Yes, strawberry goddess?”

“Are you with Derek?”

Stiles glanced in his rear-view mirror to double check (hey, it had happened before) and replied, “No, he’s at home working with Dad. Why?”

“Where are you?”

Stiles was starting to get a headache. “On my way to the store. Pulled into a parking lot because you called.”

“Good. Switch to FaceTime.”

Stiles knew it wasn’t a question. He pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen, unenthused, until Lydia’s face appeared before him.

“So, what did Danny tell you?” Stiles asked, wanting to get this out of the way.

“Stiles, you look sad,” Lydia said with a “tsk” in her voice.

“Not exactly swimming in roses here in good ol’ BH, hon.”

Lydia smiled sympathetically. “You miss work?”

Stiles rubbed his free hand through his hair. “I mean, yeah? But this is way more important. And it’s been good family time. The SanFran branch is close but not close enough.”

Lydia nodded. “I know. But you should be making the most out of your time. Like not shooting yourself in the foot.”

Stiles squawked indignantly. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what Danny told me, at least,” She flipped her hand back and forth, and Stiles noticed something gleaming on her fourth finger.

“Lydia, are you engaged?!” Stiles shrieked. Some lady coming out of the bank glared at him and clutched her purse tight to her chest. How dare she, he worked for the FBI.

Lydia huffed and examined her left hand. “Yes. All the more reason for you to stop shooting yourself in the foot so you can bring a date to my wedding. You’ll be my best man, of course.”

“Of-of course. I’m-I’d be honored. But, wait...” Stiles shook his head, reorganizing his thoughts. “I’m not shooting myself, I’m putting myself out there and getting rejected. I’m...getting shot at. Metaphorically.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if his connection froze or if Lydia was just holding the “Stiles is an idiot” look on her face.

“Lydia,” Stiles said, in warning.

“And he calls me special,” Lydia murmured under her breath, face finally breaking.

And that. That pinged a bell in Stiles’ brain. “You were the one on the phone with Derek earlier?”

“Yes, telling him about my upcoming nuptials and how I was hoping to use Hale land to have the ceremony and reception on. And about his choice in date.”

Stiles watched Lydia smirk, and it was still scary even pixelated. He tried to think back on the little he’d overheard from the call. But putting it into context didn’t make sense. Because then Derek would have been meaning that he’d asked someone on a date, and got turned down. Not impossible, but improbable, especially considering his character growth since Stiles was in high school.

A sick feeling settled into Stiles’ stomach when he remembered what else Derek had said. “Did... he asked out--”

“Yes, Stiles,” Lydia said with a relieved sigh.

“Danny,” Stiles choked out and slumped back in the seat. Of course. 

“Oh for the love of Christ,” Lydia hissed, and Stiles slid his gaze back over to the phone to see Lydia practically seething. “I will scream. I am about to scream. Just go get your stupid groceries, go home, talk to Derek, and then call me.”

“So he can let me down a second time? No thanks,” Stiles grumbled, but she did have a point about the store.

“You are a disappointment,” Lydia said before abruptly ending the call, which stung a little, but Stiles knew she didn’t really mean it.

*

Derek was at his car door when he got home an hour after leaving and helped to bring the bags of groceries into the house. He even helped put them away in the kitchen, not uttering a word the entire time. It was weirding Stiles out, but not enough to tell him to stop. The job was done in more than half the time.

“Your dad is taking a shower. Don’t worry,” Derek added, when Stiles opened his mouth, “I’ve got ears on him. He’s perfectly steady, using the shower chair and everything. Just didn’t want another sponge bath from his son.”

Stiles scoffed, unable to look at Derek for more than a second without feeling jealous. “They aren’t a cake walk for me either.”

“I’m not dating Danny.”

Stiles stopped rolling the empty plastic bags into a large ball and tossed it onto the counter, wound-up bags spilling in random directions and expanding very slowly.

“I didn’t ask him out either. I wouldn’t--” Derek’s voice faltered, and Stiles look at him truly for the first time that day. Derek’s shoulders were slumped, and he looked exhausted. “I wouldn’t do that to you, unknowingly or knowingly.”

“Um.” Stiles was now feeling like the idiot Lydia looked at him like.

“Lydia texted me, said you thought I’d asked him out, but I didn’t, I barely see him, he’s only working here before he starts grad school--”

“I know,” Stiles said, needing to do something with his body before he went into a complete shock. He was lost, which didn’t happen much these days.

Derek didn’t look any happier; in fact he looked even more upset, though his emotions only played out in the crinkles on his face and the slope of his torso. “Of course, yeah, I mean you spent all night with him so...” Derek trailed off.

Stiles started to catch on. “Yeeeah,” he responded, slowly. “Because he was bartending at the bar I went to last night. Contractually obligated to stick around and make drinks.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “But then who did you meet for drinks?”

Stiles raised his hands up. “Nobody? I mean, there were others there, but it was a Wednesday night, dude, not exactly popping.”

“So you’re not dating Danny?”

Stiles scoffed. “No, Danny is out of my league and I am not his type.” He swallowed before adding, “You are, though.”

Derek nodded once, then again. “Oh. So it’s just me, then. I see.”

“That’s great. Wanna show me the picture?” Stiles asked, reaching out to settle a hand on Derek’s arm and squeezing the muscle. “I feel like we’re working with different cameras here.”

Derek’s eyes fell on Stiles’ touch of comfort, gaze trailing up his arm and finally landing on his face. “Lydia is getting married,” he mumbled.

“She is,” Stiles said, because it was good they agreed on something.

Derek stared at him, took a deep breath, and said, “And I want to date you.”

Stiles’ grip on Derek’s arm tightened. He forced back the stupid smile that wanted to overwhelm his face and said on an exhale, “What made you change your mind?”

“Change my mind? I haven’t. I asked you on a date. You said you weren’t interested.”

Stiles pulled Derek a step closer to him, eyes wide and head shaking. “Uh, no, I would never do that, besides it was you who turned me down, remember?”

Derek took hold of Stiles’ wrist and pulled him even closer, their chests touching. “I think neither of us have been working with a full deck here.”

“You’re mixing metaphors now,” Stiles warned, and knew Derek could hear the way his heart was tripping over itself by the tightening of his grip.

“No, you used one metaphor, and then I used one. No mixing, yet,” Derek challenged, pale eyes flitting all over Stiles’ face before his gaze was landing below his nose.

“I think I am starting to get why Lydia wanted to scream in my face earlier,” Stiles murmured, lips close to brushing Derek’s as he rocked forward.

“I kind of want to scream now.”

Stiles and Derek jumped apart to see an amused and wet-haired Sheriff in the kitchen doorway, a towel slung over his shoulders.

“Dad, you are the worst,” Stiles declared.

His father gave him a look.

“Oh, go do your alphabet foot exercises,” Stiles shot back, snagging Derek’s wrist and pulling him past his father and into the hallway. “I’m going to ask a second time, Derek, and I know not taking no for an answer is so high-school-Stiles but I think this time I can make an exception.”

Derek was grinning at him, teeth on display, and Stiles tilted forward to kiss them, but realized halfway through the motion how weird that might be.

“Will you go on a date with me? And be my date to Lydia’s wedding, whenever that is?” Stiles placed a hand on Derek’s chest, over his heart. “Please don’t say no,” he whispered. “You are so my type.”

Derek raised his chin and kissed him, which was fantastic, but not an answer. Stiles moaned his disappointment into the kiss, but didn’t pull away because he was pretty sure Derek was more of an actions-guy anyway.

He was definitely good at the physicality part of physical therapy, Stiles could quickly attest to this.

[scullydubois]

Only the Light (ch. 3)

Description: Missy moves in with Scully post-One Breath/Scully’s abduction. In this chapter, Scully goes through her morning routine and gets a surprise...

part 1 here. part 2 here. tagging @today-in-fic​.

“Only the Light” won the poll, so it’s now the official title! Yay! Thank you for voting and thanks for all the feedback--I love your comments. This part is the longest yet (and the best imo)--enjoy!! 

-----------------------------------------

She floats outstretched through the sky as if it were the community pool she and Missy used to frequent as children. She tilts her face toward the sun, feels the warmth of it washing over her. Her eyes reflect the brilliant blue sky, mini-oceans in themselves. Her back is to the city, and she’s so high up she can’t hear one bit of the noise on the ground. She hopes this is what heaven is like. If this is heaven, she has nothing to fear. 

And then she’s falling, a casualty of gravity. Hell has found her. It always does. This is an unfortunate truth she must live with. The sky races past her and there’s a pit in her stomach so deep she thinks she must be breaking the laws of physics, her body stretching like a rubber band about to snap. Surely she is not a human being anymore. Surely she won’t be by the end of this.

The ground hurdles toward her. She can’t see it, but she knows. She wonders what shape they will find her in, or if she will even be found. She hopes for her family’s sake that she’s in so many pieces they can’t put her back together. It’s easier, she thinks, when the body doesn’t look human. Burying a radiant-looking thirty year old is sad. Burying a mangled mess of a corpse is a relief. 

As if on cue, her alarm chirps. She awakes in one piece and punches the alarm, reality whisking away the horror of her dreams. Sweat saturates her silk pajamas, leaving a morning dew of sorts on her sheets. The blankets were thrown off at some point during the night. She does not remember doing this, so she can only assume it was the work of the demonic force in her brain.

Waking up in a puddle of her own sweat has become commonplace since she was returned. The first time the heat was so stifling she thought she must have had a fever that broke, but the mercury thermometer in her bathroom said otherwise. Her body seems to have a mind of itself these days. 

For the time being, her mind is still functioning, so she pulls herself out of bed to get ready for work. This routine part of her day is a privilege she relishes. Very rarely does she get to function on autopilot.

It goes like this: first, she slips off her pajamas and changes her underwear. It is at this point without fail that she realizes she hasn’t bought a new pantyset in years, and wouldn’t it be nice if she did? This mental note slips away by the time she buttons her suit jacket and tucks her undershirt into her slacks.

Next, she switches on the bathroom light and performs the typical tasks of self-care--brushing her teeth, washing her face, and whatnot-- that some might find tedious or annoying. For Scully, they are soothing. She spends too much time thinking about aliens and not enough thinking about herself. She’s not sure she believes in either, but god, it would be nice to try. 

Veering close to the latest possible time at which she could still expect to beat DC traffic to the office, she brushes her hair (no time for a hundred strokes), dabs some concealer under her eyes, and swipes on her favorite lipstick. No need to go all out; she knows where she stands.

Finally, she opens her closet and stares at the rack of heels. They’re uncomfortable and damn inconvenient for an FBI agent, but Mulder’s tall and she is not. She had a fraction of her current pairs before she met Mulder. No coincidence. 

She chooses the tallest pair she owns because she needs the confidence boost. They’re headed to a nursing home in Massachusetts today, so hopefully there will be no running in the woods involved. 

She click-click-clicks down the hallway. The scent of strong coffee permeates the air. She turns the corner, and there’s her sister with a pot of coffee and two plates of scrambled eggs. It is seven o’clock in the morning, and they were up at 3am last night. The last thing Scully expects is for her sister to be cognizant, let alone to have cooked. 

“Good morning sunshine.” Missy slides a plate over to Scully’s usual spot at the table and pours the piping hot coffee into a ‘Kiss Me, I’m A Doctor’ mug. 

Scully pinches herself. No, she’s not dreaming. This is too happy to be one of her dreams anyways.

“This is a surprise,” she says as she takes a seat at the table.

“Well, I fell asleep on the couch and woke up at 5:30. I figured it’s been awhile since someone’s cooked you breakfast.”

Scully takes a sip of the coffee. 

“I don’t even cook myself breakfast.”

“Exactly.”

Melissa tops off Scully’s mug. 

“Is it strong enough? I couldn’t drink mine without adding about a half a cup of milk, so I figured I must be doing something right.”

Scully is so grateful to be waited on that it could be a milkshake and she wouldn’t complain. It is strong enough though, stronger than the milk and sugar mixture someone calls coffee at the FBI. 

“It’s perfect,” she says, meaning it.

“Good. I saw the end of that movie, by the way. You were right, it’s a real snoozefest.”

Scully laughs. “I actually like that movie. That’s why it helps me fall asleep.”

Missy scoffs. “They spend the entire movie pining over each other just for one chaste kiss at the end! Where’s the fun in that?”

“Probably shortly after that chaste kiss.”

Missy smirks, pleased that she’s gotten her sister to make a sex joke at seven o’clock in the morning. She softens her voice-- 

“I did want to talk to you, though.”

Scully finishes chewing the forkful of scrambled eggs in her mouth. 

“I have to leave soon or I’ll be late.”

“Late for what? One of Mulder’s slideshows?”

Scully sits back. Maybe Missy has a point.

“I’m sure you’re tired of my questioning,” Missy says, “so I won’t ask you another thing. Say what you need to say.”

Say what you need to say. So simple, yet so powerful. It occurs to Scully that no one ever gives her this type of shameless permission. They shouldn’t have to, but she’s never been one to talk out of turn. What a relief to have the freedom to speak plainly. 

She exhales. She has spent the past weeks playing back the few memories she has of her disappearance--she won’t call it the other word--and trying to decipher what happened to her. She is no closer to figuring it out than she was when Mulder gave her necklace back, but it might help to share what she does remember.

She launches into it, her memories flowing out in one long stream.

“You know, when I was in the hospital, I kept having this vision that I was in a lifeboat. There was a rope tying it to the dock and on the dock were all the people I loved, the people that were around me. You and mom and Mulder and the nurses.”

Melissa listens sympathetically, shocked and relieved that her sister is opening up.

“But I couldn’t move, I couldn’t do anything but sit there in that boat and hope that somehow, the tether wouldn’t snap.”

This is the most vulnerable Missy can remember seeing her sister since the passing of their father. There are a respected few who have witnessed Dana Scully reveal the inner workings of her mind. It’s a rare honor to witness Dana Scully reveal the inner workings of her heart. 

Scully continues.

“And then it did snap, and I had...I can only describe it as a near-death experience. Dad was there...He was in his uniform with all his medals and he told me that he loved me and—that we would be together again, but not yet.”

Missy nods along.

“So I guess...that kept me from going. That’s how I knew I had to stay.”

“Wow,” Missy breathes.

“From then on, I could hear everything you guys were saying. I heard you and mom telling me that I was below the criteria of my living will and I was trying to give you a sign…”

Her voice breaks. 

“I was so scared you would pull the plug on me.”

“Oh my god, Dana.” Missy engulfs her in a hug. “I am so sorry.”

Scully breathes into her sister’s neck. Her hair smells like the strawberry shampoo they used when they were children. She wonders if Missy still uses it, decides that now is not the time to bring that up. Instead, she lets go of the hug first.

“I started thinking, if I am below the criteria of my living will, maybe that’s the right thing to do. Maybe if I ever truly wake up, I’ll be so damaged I won’t be able to work for the FBI or have anything resembling a happy life.”

She sighs. “And you and mom said your goodbyes, and I was thankful, actually, that I got to hear them because so many people don’t and you just...never know with my profession.”

She bites her lip to keep from crying.

“And then sometime later I heard Mulder come in, and his wasn’t a goodbye. He touched my hand—I could feel it but I couldn’t respond—and he told me he was there. And I could feel his sadness, but I could also feel his hope. And that was all I needed, was hope.”

“He gave you the strength to wake up,” Missy says, partly as a question. 

“Or the courage to.”

Melissa considers this. She remembers how solemn she felt going to Fox’s apartment that night, delivering the news that her sister was weakening. This must be how nurses feel when they tell loved ones to say their goodbyes, she thought at the time. When he said he wasn’t able to go see Dana in the hospital, she was furious. How can you be so naive? she thought. Are you so afraid of pain you refuse to feel your own feelings? She realizes now this sounds like something she might say to her sister. 

Melissa decides not to mention her involvement in any of this. After all, she hadn’t succeeded in convincing Fox to go to the hospital. That was his own choice. Instead, she says--

“He was really looking out for you, you know. He was a soldier for your cause.”

The edges of Scully’s lips turn up the slightest bit.

“I don’t doubt it. Mulder is nothing if not a good soldier.”

Melissa thinks back on meeting Fox. She said that Dana had talked to her, that her soul was there. He didn’t believe her.

“Fox was exactly what you said he would be,” she tells her sister, “and somehow I was still surprised by the sheer force of his determination.”

Scully chuckles. 

“Well, I don’t exaggerate these things. If anything, I downplay them.”

“No kidding.”

Melissa wets her lips, letting silence rest comfortably at the table with them.

“You’re really lucky you know, to have him as a partner.”

Scully nods. 

“I know.”

And she does.

[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

— CHAPTER FOUR ; COSA NOSTRA.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags: s4 spoilers, alcohol, implied nsfw

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

INKBERROW HOTEL

STRATFORD-UPON-AVON

LUCA heavily sighed and muttered something Italian under his breath. His first meeting with Alfie Solomons was gonna happen in a couple hours. To his understanding from anyone he's gone to, he was told how unpredictable and clever Alfie was. He was a bullet, and Luca rubbed the bridge of his nose just thinking about the fact that he has to brace for a headache.

He sat silently. Just like Tommy, all his research and plans mapped out were scattered across his desk. Staring at the unlit fireplace in the sitting room, he hears both a knock and a small English voice grab his attention from the other side of giant, heavy front door. Luca gets up to answer it, to find the maid that served him tea and biscuits smile sweetly at him.

"You have guests."

They walk in and the maid leaves. The henchman had their fair share of matching overcoats and hats since they began working for the Changretta family. Luca's cousin Matteo, being one of them, was one of the first to already push Luca's buttons when he stood in front of the desk.

"I will mop the floor with your face if you don't fix that frown," Luca held up a warning finger, speaking to him like a parent disciplining their child.

"Noi perso Frederico," Matteo spoke. The other henchman next to him was still part of them, but after being shot by Tommy Shelby during the shootout the other day, his spirit crushed.

"You think I'm not upset about that?" Luca pulled out the match from the tray and placed it in his mouth. "They've now killed five of our men, Matteo. Five."

Matteo looked down and Luca sighs. "Aw, come on. You even complained about Spotted Dick. It's pudding, it ain't so bad. You've hated everything here that moves. You carry the same attitude from four years back. We had some decent pleasure in Britain. You know, the wedding? Il vino di cugino nostra? The art gallery. . ." Luca slowly played with the match gripped by his teeth. "I met a woman there."

And what more than Luca not recalling her, too?

Luca got back up and walked him and his men over to the sitting area. He sat on the sofa while Matteo and the other man sat opposite him on the chairs.

"Will you be seeing her again?" he asks.

Luca knew exactly who he was referring to, and shook his head, fairly certain there wasn't a chance something like that would happen. "Penarth is miles away from where we are, Matteo."

"Vai a vederla," the other henchman suggests. "You know, mentre siamo qui?"

"And tell her what?" Luca says. "'Hello old lover, sorry for just walking out on you like that, but I'm here now! Let's wolf down some gin and fuck on my desk?'"

They both shrugged and looked down, not really knowing what else to say to continue on with that subject.

Luca leaned back in the sofa. "We're here for business, for loose ends that need a tight knot on. This isn't a field trip, an excursion for that matter."

However, Luca wished it wasn't for anything like that. He dreaded the day more family of his that were dear to his heart, people he loved and respected deeply, would slip right out of his hands. After hearing about his brother Angel it was enough to mourn over. But hearing his mother break down in front of him revealing his father's assassination afterwards, nearly shut him down.

Blood before all.

"She's from the past. It don't matter no more." 1919-1920

SOMEWHERE in Birmingham, Luca came from New York to be best man at his cousin's wedding. England wasn't his ideal place to stay, though, as he loved the New York air, there were more buildings with shining lights and taxis, and people being as upbeat and chaotic well suited his preference. But he showed honor and love for his cousin, and he wouldn't say no.

He came before meeting Teresa, of course. And as promised, he took her out to see a show, as he mentioned how he was a lover of theater. Their first date went smoothly as he thought, and kept stealing glances from her that night.

They went on their second date to one of the finest restaurants in Birmingham. He requested a bottle of champagne and two gourmet dishes at their reserved table. He was annoyed but not surprised there were no Italian cuisines known in that area, but it was better than not treating her to the fancy, luxurious lifestyle he was born into.

When Teresa was a Peaky Blinder, it was way before the Shelbys expanded into more fine houses to relax in. They lived in Small Heath, of course, and their neighborhood was spread with filth. But it was home.

Teresa therefore never got to experience the wealth and glory once Tommy established the Shelby Company Limited, even before the high ranking members could save so much to spoil themselves too. Teresa was long gone before that, but she built her own empire, and it all started with art, art that she now thought of selling and upgrading, according to Luca's "constructive criticism."

That was when Luca had to ask, now that he was staying in Birmingham for awhile now. "My cousin is getting married on Saturday. I'm gonna be his best man."

"That's amazing, Luca. Tell him and his bride my congrats," she smiles brightly.

"You can be there to tell them that, y'know?"

She took a sip of her champagne. "Mm?"

Luca leaned forward. "I want you to be my plus one at my cousin's wedding."

Teresa nearly choked on her drink. "A-are you sure?"

"I'm never unsure, Teresa. But you seem to be."

"It's just . . . we still don't know each other that well for me to meet your family."

"And? People bring dates all the time, even if they've known each other for half a day. I know you warned me that I would grow bored of you, but here we are on our second date. We have the best table arranged for us, champagne, filet mignon," Luca smirked a bit. "I haven't even kissed you yet."

She chuckles. "You're right. I just hope your family likes me." She took that as a joke, but Luca already switched to being dead serious.

"Well, I don't wanna scare you, but you're gonna have to make yourself likeable for my family. They're what you call . . ." he trails off, waving his hand.

"Judgmental?" Teresa asks.

"They're gonna ask about you like it's an interview. They're gonna do research, find out what you do, what you like, whether or not you've done anything bad."

Shit. Her throat hit a lump. Now what would The Changrettas' reaction be if they found out Teresa was a Peaky Blinder? Forbid Luca at his big age from seeing her again? Condemn her? Blackmail her into hiding? But fuck it, she thought. Teresa really liked Luca so far, and she wasn't gonna let her past ruin her future. "We shouldn't have a problem with that, then."

When Luca's chauffeur pulled up at Teresa's home, he looked around the neighborhood. The night of their first date, Luca planted a kiss on Teresa's cheek before letting her go into the house. Her business wasn't enough for her to own a manor, so Teresa was living in a townhouse in a neighborhood with drunks and escorts that come and go. It didn't differ much from his home, yet he winced at the sight of it.

She came out the door wearing a sparkly dress that lowered down to her knees, height a bit taller from the heels she picked out, and her hair was in the curls most women were styling theirs as. Through the filth of their surroundings, Luca saw an angel.

Teresa joined the applause after the bride and groom shared their kiss. All the families and friends cheered, some chanting Italian at them and she smiled at Luca who proudly stood at the altar with the groomsmen and bridesmaids. It wasn't until the time to take a family photo, and Teresa stood on the side and watched them.

"Do you know the bride?" an old man approached Teresa.

"I'm here with the best man."

"You know my son?" Her heart rate increases a bit. It was Luca's father, Vicente.

She nods. "Yes. I—"

"Papa," the family was done taking their photo and Luca hopped off the steps to introduce her. "It was probably better to introduce you to everyone before I could run off and do wedding stuff. Padre, questa è Teresa Griffith. Lavora come art director, a Penarth."

Vicente Changretta kisses her on both cheeks. "Then you must meet my wife, Audrey."

Luca's mother stared at Teresa while she sat next to where Luca was supposed to be sitting at the wedding dinner. In fact, some of the guests were staring at her, too, not recognizing her as they were observing her looks. Not that it was a bad thing, it was just intriguing. She was the only non Italian-American at the wedding, and Luca only introduced her to his parents.

Teresa smiled and nodded politely when she made eye contact with anyone as she tried sipping her drink to avoid any embarrassment. She breathes in relief when Luca sat back down. "That speech you made. It was beautiful, Luca."

"Thank you," he mutters, taking his wine glass. "Even though it was all in Italian."

She chuckles, still feeling the looks some of the guests shot at her. She quietly spoke to Luca while avoiding eye contact. "People are staring at me. Is it my dress? Do I have bad taste?"

"Sei bellisima," Luca compliments. "They're just curious about you, that's all. Why, do you feel intimidated?"

"Not at all."

"Well," Luca's raspy voice lowered but loud enough for Teresa to hear him say, "you should be."

Teresa stared at him, feeling tensed. "Why is that?"

He sipped his wine."Because we're dangerous people."

Teresa was no stranger to words like that, she wasn't new to running into people who consider themselves "dangerous". The Peaky Blinders were in fact dangerous people who did dangerous deeds. But this was Luca, and that would mean—

"Blood before all." Luca stood up before Teresa could question him and he raised a toast in Italian, everyone following.

Once they finished their meal there was time left for dancing and drinking. Teresa once again kept quiet, trying to stick with Luca the entire time and avoid losing him to a crowd or a relative speaking to him. There really was nothing else she could do besides drink silently and listen to Luca speak in his native tongue.

That was when Mrs. Changretta walked up to them. "Slow down on the wine, amore mio."

Luca obeyed. "Yes, Mamma."

"And Teresa, you've been glued to my son all night," Audrey says. "I hope everything is all right with you. Have you tried the risotto?"

"Oh yes, it was delicious," Teresa smiles, seeing Luca walk off with Matteo. She was left alone to talk to his mother.

"That's good. It's an Italian recipe. Very popular. Luca tells me that you own a gallery?"

"I work as the art director in the Penarth Art Gallery."

Audrey nodded. "You were a good student to own a business?"

"I got good grades here and there."

"That's lovely. I worked as a teacher, taught two little boys how to read. Now they're all grown up and they wear caps and carry guns around. I am sure their names would sound familiar to you, Teresa? John and Arthur Shelby."

And just like that, Teresa's skin turned cold. Of course, someone like Luca's own mother would be one step ahead to dig deep into Teresa's past and bring up the two reckless men that did the most of violence and crime. She hasn't seen or spoke to either of them ever since she resigned, and hearing someone mention a Shelby made her skin crawl.

This was exactly what Luca had warned her about. Be likeable.

"I worked with them. But that was way before I moved back to Wales. Mrs. Changretta, I hold no ill-intent on your son. I respect him. I would never do anything to harm him."

"My husband told me the Peaky Blinders were the ones who killed Billy Kimber."

"That was before I resigned. I wasn't there to see it happen. Who I once was is now in the past. I grew out of that life. Holding a gun would feel so new to me."

Was that enough? Was that an okay response? Audrey stared at her. "I don't blame you for leaving the Peaky Blinders, Teresa. But we do happen to be just like them, you know? So think about how you are spending your leisure with my son."

Teresa furrowed a brow. "In what way?"

Mrs. Changretta took a step closer and smiled at her. "We're a tight family. In New York we deal with what you once dealt it, and we play with the big kids." She squeezes her hand and walks off.

Cosa Nostra.

Of course. Teresa felt like slapping her forehead for not having the slightest idea sooner. She felt completely stupid for not seeing the signs; the way Luca behaved when they first met, the way they dressed, their mannerisms, everything. It gave off the whole idea clear as day. It was no wonder his family didn't welcome her so much.

She stood stiff in her spot, no sign of Luca anywhere to come back to speak to her again. But did that even matter anymore? If Mrs. Changretta knew already, that meant Vicente knew, too. Even Luca. She had to assume Luca would be a leader, then. She squeezed her eyes shut just imagining him as part of the New York mafia, holding a Thompson gun, one day going against the Peaky Blinders . . .

Teresa felt like she was set up for this to humiliate her. Without even being armed, walking out without saying anything could cause suspicion. Teresa took a seat at the bar, and stared at her glass.

Luca came back minutes after, they both knew exactly what was on each other's minds. "How could you have not known I'm part of a Sicilian mob based in New York?"

Teresa shrugged.

"Couldn't you tell when we first met? Not even Matteo or Frederico gave you the hint?"

"I thought you were planning on robbing my art gallery like a bunch of amateurs."

"Of course, you were a Peaky Blinder. Heard those clowns killed Billy fuckin' Kimber," Luca took a seat next to her.

She nodded. "Yep. That's them, that was before I resigned. I couldn't take it anymore, but the people they go neck to neck with would contact me nonstop, my name comes out of their mouths, they threatened to kill me, so I left for Penarth.".

"So, you are intimidated by us," Luca says.

"I'm not judging you for being a mafioso, but I don't feel like I've been approved by your family."

"I let my family voice their opinions, but they like you so far. Leaving would ruin that." Luca and Teresa both get up. "My mother likes you. That's a rewarding milestone."

"Your family would find it hard to trust me, and I know they would do something about it."

Luca shook his head while drinking the last of what was in his glass. "I mean I did warn you, we are dangerous people."

Shrugging, Teresa put her hand to stroke his cheek. "Yet I'm still here."

As she should.

"You . . . are definitely not boring, Miss Griffith," he grinned down at her. "You ever held a Thompson gun before?"

"No, but I would love to one day. We can protect each other."

"I thought you couldn't handle the crime life anymore? You can trust me. Nothing won't happen to me." He started pulling her closer to him so that his arm was wrapped around her back.

She shakes her head. "You have signore tuo to protect you. And your Tommy gun."

"E Signore mio mi ha mandato angelo custode mio."

"What does that mean?"

Luca let his free hand lift her chin. "God sent me my guardian angel."

As the band's music grew loud on stage, he was able to lean down and let the alcohol push him forward for the kiss. And he allowed it. Teresa took in the moment when the kiss deepened. It was divine and satisfying, like her favourite painter blending colours on a dry canvas.

•••

From all the noise they both made, they were sure the people staying next door could hear them loud and clear, grimacing at the sound of the bed banging against the wall of the room, but it didn't matter anymore.

Letting out a heavy breath, Teresa relaxed her body when Luca came to rest beside her when they were done. Back in America, Luca had his fair share with women and always charmed his way into getting them to spend time with him and his men. It always included going to speakeasies to drink and party at night, enjoying the city lights in New York.

But when it was Teresa in bed with him in uptown England, she felt free even though she was on her back with Luca leaning over her. Despite how he was so experienced with intimacy, everything felt so new, and it felt right when he looked into her eyes.

The wedding night felt euphoric, and it wasn't even them who got married.

Luca and his men head out the door, ready to meet up with Alfie Solomons in his distillery. He was conflicted. Did he miss her? Did he want to miss her? He tosses the match from his mouth into the disposable bin on the way out.

Does he have any idea that she was already aware he was back?

[witharsenicsauce]

Chosen Stories From the War #33: Acid Bath

(Content warning: This chapter contains descriptions of gore, torture and acid burns.)

Her screams echoed through the dark hallway, bouncing off the concrete walls as two peacekeepers dragged her into the white room by her short chocolate hair. The faceless soldiers did not respond to such cries for help. Whether they could hear her was unknown. She struggled against them, used her broken nails to claw at them, her chipped teeth to bite at them, but they did not even flinch.

Over them, the two Elders watched. This would be the last one they needed.

Tiyanak reached out with their mind, and with their hand, toward their mate. “She is the final subject.”

“I wish we could do more.” Xezbeth could be heard to sigh, their bony chest heaving. Their posture was crooked, bent and broken, no fault of their own, but it gave them a degraded and corrupted look.

“We should be pleased we could do this at all.” Tiyanak took their hand and pulled them forward a bit, toward where they stood as the human girl thrashed, bound to a metal chair. She looked up at the Elders with utter fear in her eyes. Their glowing apparitions consumed the corners of her feeble mind.

Tiyanak reached out with their thoughts, pushed past her enervated barriers and pressed farther and farther into her thoughts. She tried, in vain she tried, but she could not resist them, or their power.

“You are special.” The words shook her body to it’s core. He reached out with dry, half-rotten hands and stroked his knotted thumb over her chin. “You discovered your power at only four...your mother was finally proud of you...your sisters so jealous…”

“Let me go, you mummified cunt!” The girl’s voice was high and nasally, nothing soothing to the ears, but it commanded a sort of power. Tiyanak was pleased: they knew they had chosen well.

“You cannot run away from destiny.” they said as they drew their hand away. The human doctors were already filing into the room, towing carts with surgical supplies and vials full of purple liquid. 

“Let me go!” The poor girl shrieked as the two Elders withdrew from the room to let the scientists work their magic. She began to plead, then sob, then as the door closed, scream.

.

.

“I’ve never seen such a blade.” Zafar said, as he pulled the dagger from the hilt of Kon-Mai’s katana and balanced it in one hand. “We certainly weren’t allowed weapons like this.”

“It was built by the Elders themselves.” Kon-Mai said. “I would have abandoned it long ago, but I have modified it enough to make it my own. Plus...there is nothing quite like it on Earth.”

“The blade is almost crystalline…” He flipped it towards himself, the tip pointing toward his own eye.

“Be careful with that. You might poke your eye out.” Nazira chimed in as she waltzed into the sandy amphitheater where the former two were training. Hidden from the heat of the desert sun, it stood in the shadow of a large grove of palm trees. The stone steps that used to be able to sit nearly a hundred had crumbled around them, but this ancient Roman site still held some kind of reverence.

“I am glad you came.” Kon-Mai nodded to her.

“Sorry I’m late, I wanted to sleep a bit longer.” Nazira chuckled and stretched her arm over her head.  “What did I miss?”

“We have not yet begun. Your brother was examining my blades.”

“I have to say I’m slightly jealous.” Zafar admitted. “We could have been using swords this whole time. Maybe they wouldn’t have broken constantly like our pistols.”

“Kompira was never good at making guns.” Nazira dropped her bag beside the pile of stones and pulled her long, black hair back in a ponytail. She was dtressed scantily, her shorts and tank top hugging her slim, nearly scrawny figure.

Kon-Mai turned her eyes back towards Zafar and held out her hand, wordlessly asking for her blade back. He reluctantly placed it in her grip and took hold of the wooden training blade she had brought from the Avenger.

“Now then.” Kon-Mai straightened up. “Let me see your stance.”

She was almost impressed: Zafar was not as clueless to swords as she once thought. He put slightly too much weight in his knees, but he stayed low and held the sword tightly, but kept his wrist loose.

“Not bad.” She nodded, scanning him with her eyes. She picked up her own training blade and took up her stance. “Lunge.”

He almost caught her off guard by how fast he was, how nimble. His limbs seemed as though they could stretch beyond their measure. He lunged forward, bringing the blade upward towards her face. Kon-Mai dove backward into a flip and came up on her feet, examining his next move. He, of course, seemed to take the same approach, getting into a crouch and waiting.

“You are quite skilled.” Kon-Mai chuckled, meeting his eyes.

“I survived with the Elders for this long.” He said, seeming to relax a bit under her praise. “I had to be skilled.”

“Then you know to never let your guard down.” She darted forward and cut upward towards his face. He jumped back, but the tip of the blade hit his chin, and she saw a bit of green ichor dribble from his mouth.

“Zafar!” Nazira began to rush towards him but he held up his hand, wiping the green blood from his lip.

“You got me.” He chuckled. “Good work, Mordenna. You really are all they say.”

“Thank you.” Kon-Mai gave him a toothy grin, similar to the prideful smirk her brother was known for.

“And perhaps flattery will get me somewhere!” Zafar snapped as he sprinted forward, crossing the distance between them in a matter of seconds. He brought his blade across, aiming for just under her throat, only to find her gone.

Then he felt the tip of the wooden blade pressed into his back. “Well done.” She cooed, her cloak falling away. “But next time, keep your eyes solely on the target. Or else they might just disappear.”

“Hey! Going invisible?” Nazira crossed her arms. “That’s cheating!”

“Not on the battlefield.” Kon-Mai turned to her. “Out there, your enemy does not live by any kind of honor or code.”

“You did.”

“By my own force of will.” She took her blade away from Zafar, letting him move away slightly. “The Elders have no honor, and neither do the soldiers who follow them. They will not adhere to what is just or fair. If given the slightest chance…” She turned to Zafar. “They will kill you.”

“Then we must not give them such a chance.” He walked over to Nazira, flipped the blade over and handed it to her by the hilt. “Your turn, Sister.”

“Normally I’m the beautiful woman beating the shit out of another person.” She giggled. “But I suppose I’m up for a switch~.”

Kon-Mai took a moment to ponder those words. Had Nazira just called her beautiful? As she ruminated on it, she nearly missed the approaching footsteps.

Nazira was even more flexible than her brother, and Kon-Mai had to duck clumsily to avoid her strike, dropping to the ground and rolling to one side. She hopped up on her feet once again, quickly adjusting her stance as Nazira slid around to her side, hoping to cut underneath her. Kon-Mai blocked the strike, but it almost put her off balance. Nazira fought with fury, and a look of terror in her green eyes.

Kon-Mai had to use her whole weight to shove the woman back, and at that point, she threw her cloak over her body and disappeared into shadow. Nazira stopped then, possibly listening for the Shrinemaiden’s steps, but Kon-Mai knew exactly how to place her feet to keep herself from making noise.

Coming up from behind, Kon-Mai dropped her cloak and swiped upward. Nazira managed to dodge, just barely. Kon-Mai was about to praise her but stopped when she noticed the distress in her face.

“Should we break for now?” She said instead. “You look disturbed.”

“You drop in and out of sight like a damn Codex.” She said with an exasperated laugh. “Yes, I’m disturbed.”

“Do you want to stop?”

“No…” Nazira adjusted her grip again. “I’m just...getting warmed up.”

Kon-Mai took up her stance once again, and this time Nazira held still, like Zafar had, and each one waited for the other to strike. Kon-Mai watched every movement, then closed her eyes and listened. Then she rushed.

Nazira might have meant to bring up her sword, but her hand slipped and the wooden blade dropped from her grip, and instead she took the brunt of the strike with her hand. She cried out, falling back, and immediately the fight screeched to a halt. Zafar jumped forward towards his sister, and Kon-Mai reached down. “Are you alri-”

Nazira let out a furious hiss, her eyes shining with tears, and she flung the palm of her injured hand out to stop Kon-Mai from coming closer. With this action, a spray of green, boiling blood shot out from the wound, over the side of the Shrinemaiden’s face. 

She screamed, stumbling back, as the blood began to burn.

.

.

“Do we have everything?” Senuna asked, looking around at the ship.

“Half our soldiers are still on shore.” Bradford said. “And our Chosen. And your child.”

“We’ll be back within a day’s time.” Senuna replied. “Besides, even if Zafar insists they’re being hunted, it’s safer here than on the ship.”

“If you say so.” Bradford tapped over the PDA. “...Jane. We’re missing Jane.”

“Not missing, she’s on a date.” Zhang said, hobbling in on his cane. “Told me to tell you to go ahead.”

“Well then I think-” Senuna sat down at her desk, and then broke off. “...Where’s Pangu?”

“The possum?” Bradford blew a raspberry. “I think Tygan had him…?”

“No, he took him out this morning.” Senuna sighed. “Oh, tell me he’s not in the vents again.”

“Well at least he’ll be on the ship.” Bradford chuckled. “I haven’t heard any scratching.”

“What if he hurts himself though?”

Zhang lowered his body onto one of the fluffy cushions. “Senuna, it’s just a possum.”

“You heartless bastard, he’s a friend.” She said, only half joking.

“Never had a pet?” Bradford asked, and although it was unclear who he was referring to, Zhang shook his head.

“We had drug sniffing dogs in the Triad. They weren’t all that friendly.”

“I outlived all of mine.” Senuna sighed. “But oh, do I miss my fluffy babies.”

“That’s not weird.” Bradford said. “Animals don’t usually live long, especially compared to you.”

She smiled at him. “Is my age showing?”

“You have smile lines.” He said, tossing the PDA onto her bed. “But other than that, you don’t look a day over 20.”

“I wish I could say that for you, Bradford.” Senuna chuckled. “But your youthful attitude makes up for all the grey.”

“I’m flattered.” He deadpanned. “If that’s all, then let’s get a move on Commander. Betos and Volk won’t wait forever.”

“Volk might.” Zhang chuckled. “If he passes out.”

.

.

“What do you have in your pocket?”

Gur-Rai didn’t open his eyes at first. He just let the heat of the very old, stone bench by the side of the lake seep into his body. The warm desert sun beat down on him and Dhar-Mon, who had joined him for a walk that morning while their sister was busy training the snake siblings.

It wasn’t often that the two brothers themselves spent time together without the company of the third Chosen, who had always seemed to stick the trio together like glue. Gur-Rai had to wonder how anything got done before she was born…

“Whatever are you talking about?” Gur-Rai said coyly, knowing all too well what was in his jacket. It wiggled a bit as he spoke, and he felt a fuzzy nose touch his chin.

“You brought the rat out?” Dhar-Mon sighed, looking back out over the lake.

“He needs emotional stimulation.” Gur-Rai opened his jacket and plucked Pangu out of his inner pocket. The possum squeaked a bit, then began crawling up his arm. “You ever had a pet, Brother?”

“At my stronghold?” Dhar-Mon shook his head. “Never.”

“Why?”

Dhar-Mon gave his little brother a confused look.

“It’s a valid question.” Gur-Rai shrugged. “Why didn’t you ever get one? Do you not like animals?”

“That is not so, I don’t mind animals.” Dhar-Mon even held out one, giant hand for Pangu to sniff. His palm was almost as big as Pangu’s whole body.

“Just never got one as a pet?” Gur-Rai asked as Pangu crawled from his jacket onto Dhar-Mon’s hand.

“...In truth?” He let out a great sigh. “The Elders would never have allowed it.”

“Bullshit.” Gur-Rai scoffed. “They didn’t watch us that closely.”

“They did not watch you closely.” Dhar-Mon sounded forlorn. “But I...was constantly aware of their presence.”

“I was too. Could you not tune it out?” Gur-Rai sat up fully.

“No.” Dhar-Mon put his hand on Pangu’s furry behind as the possum climbed up his shirt to his shoulder. “Their voices were so loud...have you ever had someone whisper directly into your ear? It was as loud as that, and constant.”

Gur-Rai wondered if Kon-Mai had the same experience. He, too, had had the constant whisperings of the Elders in his head, on account of the chip, but they had always been somewhat...muted? He was able to drown them out when he was busy with other things. Like when he was on a hunt, focused so tightly on his target that all other stimuli just dropped away. Or when he was at a bar, perhaps in a rowdy city center, where the stench of strong drink and cheap perfume obscured everything else. Or (his favorite) when he was in bed with a lover, and it was just him and the person who he trusted to share his body with. How easily things could get lost in that tussle, how quickly the Elders’ orders melted into white noise, covered by moans of titillation, sharp nails clawing at the bed sheets, and lips tracing wet skin. His oath to the Elders would become twisted and warped until he was swearing eternal fealty to his one true love...or whoever was atop him that night.

“...So no pets?” He finally asked.

Dhar-Mon shook his head, his eyes glued to the possum who was now trying to slide down his sleeve. “I was the Elder’s greatest champion, given a palace meant to be immaculate...an animal would have tainted that image of myself.”

“Truth be told, I always figured they liked Kon-Mai more.” Gur-Rai sighed, holding out one arm so Pangu could climb onto him.

“They did.” Dhar-Mon admitted.

“Huh?”

“They loved our sister-”

“No, I heard you say it, I just never thought I ever would.” Gur-Rai pulled his arm into his lap, and Pangu plopped onto the bench.

“It is the truth, there is no reason to deny it.” Even as he said that, Gur-Rai saw the twinge of sorrow in his eyes. “The Elders knew from the beginning that I was not enough. They put more into her than either of us.”

“Hey, at least you got hair.” Gur-Rai chuckled. “...And so did she. Fuck.”

“I do not blame her for their favoritism.” Dhar-Mon added. “After her failure to eliminate Betos, the Elders punished her in a worse way than they’d ever yet inflicted on me. For a time they talked of...reclaiming her.”

That sent a chill up Gur-Rai’s back. “...Maybe she was right to take herself out first.” He muttered. “If she knew they were already set to kill her.”

It was almost like clockwork, then, that they heard a scream, and the two brothers jumped to their feet.

“Was that Kon-Mai’s voice?!” Dhar-Mon cried.

“Sounded like it!” Gur-Rai took off down the alley without waiting, and Dhar-Mon raced after him.

.

.

Malinalli was already feeling the stress of operating in a haven. It felt like she was in bootcamp again, and she thought she’d left that place far, far behind.

She hadn’t realized so many of the Vipers had taken to starting families in the middle of a war, but she wished they’d given it a lick of thought as she pulled off her bloody gloves and set up the remaining eggs in an incubation tank. “Tell me there aren’t more.”

“That looks like the last of ‘em.” Chinonso, her fellow nurse, said in response. She, too, looked weary after their endeavor that morning. “I can sew her up, Molly.”

“No, no, let me get on fresh-”

“Absolutely not, you’ve been working all morning without a break. Go eat something at least.” She walked around to the unconscious Viper’s oxygen tank and began to taper off the anesthesia. “I’ve got a watch on her.”

“You’re sure?” Malinalli didn’t want to doubt her colleagues, but she felt so uneasy leaving only one person to clean up this whole mess.

“Malinalli. For God’s sake, Tygan doesn’t work as hard as you.” Chinonso flicked her hands. “Go, shoo, before I call in your boyfriend to come get you~”

Malinalli blushed hard. “My huh?”

“Oh don’t you play dumb~” Cinonso began to thread the surgical needle. “We’ve all seen you and Dhar-Mon making goo goo eyes at each other.”

“Dhar-Mon and I are just friends.” Malinalli retorted softly, in a way that was not at all convincing.

“Yeah, sure you are.” Chinonso looked up and winked. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“We are!”

“Well then I’ll tell your ‘friend’ to come throw you over his shoulder and carry you out of here.” She gave Malinalli a look that told her, in no uncertain terms, to scram.

She stepped out of the medical tent and into the hot desert sun, pulling her hair down from it’s bun. Her scrubs were still covered in blood and fluid, but she just had to take a minute to breathe before-

“Malinalli!” A deep, booming voice called, and her eyes flew open, her body in full panic mode.

“Dhar-Mon?!” She instinctively froze, a chill going through her as she was suddenly surrounded by the smell of blood, by bright blue light, the golden statues, her screaming-

She felt his strong hands on her shoulders. “Malinalli, Kon-Mai has been burned!”

It took her a minute to register that he was there, even though he was standing right in front of her. She reached out, one hand on his chest, just making sure he was real…

And then his word caught up to her. “She is?! By what?”

“Acid to her face!” He bent down. “Are you alright? You look pale. Have I upset you?!”

“No..no I’m fine!.” Malinalli went to tie her hair back up. “Lead the way! Wait, no, hold on…” She dashed back into the medical tent and grabbed the nearest medkit.

Chinonso looked up. “Something wrong?”

“Emergency, tell you later!” Malinalli spluttered and darted back outside, following Dhar-Mon as he led her towards the remains of the amphitheater.

.

.

The screams grew louder with every hour. No human being should have been able to break the sound barrier with merely their voice. But the humans had surprised them before, and no doubt they would again.

Tiyanak was so proud of this one. They had not been much involved in the birth of the Chosen, but this was what it must have felt like. This was their daughter. Their pride and joy.

She lay open on the table. Her organs were bare, her heart still beating, struggling but still beating. Underneath her battered ribcage, the scientists were already making the changes needed to her stomach, removing bits of tissue and replacing it with a tube-grown Digerian Gland. Her intestines were spun away, loop by loop, replaced with orb-like structures meant to filter out the “static” and only deliver the purest of psionic energy to her body. Her spleen was cut away, replaced with a Taux filter.

They felt a hand on their arm, warm and slightly damp. “My love.”

Tiyanak reached out with their other arm and pulled Xezbeth close to them. “Isn’t she lovely?” They asked their partner. “Isn’t she divine?”

“Do you think the others-” Xezbeth began, but Tiyanak stopped them.

“It does not matter that they think. Only that they allow us to have her.” They pressed their forehead against Xezbeth’s and let out a soothing, psionic humm. 

“Isn’t life just beautiful?”

.

.

Kon-Mai refused to move her hand away from her face. She was somewhat thankful that the left eye had been the one hit by Nazira’s defense, at least it was the one that didn’t work. But the acidic blood had dripped down her cheek and her lip, cutting a path with it’s descent. She could feel bits of skin peeling away, falling off in her hand-

Gur-Rai took her hand and tried to get her to budge. “I need to see it.”

“No.”

“I need to see how bad it is.”

“Don’t!” Her voice broke. “Don’t look at me!”

“Sister, please.” He knelt in front of her and through her blurred vision and tears, she saw his worried face. “Please let me help you.”

Almost trusting her better judgement, she began to move…

“Look at what you have done!”

And her hands flew up to cover her shame once again. A sob escaped her cracked lips. “I do not need help! Just let me be, Gur-Rai!”

“Konnie, don’t say that!” Gur-Rai sat beside her, pulling her into his arms, desperate to get her to move. “You’re hurt, please please please let me help you.”

“Do not look at me! I would rather burn than let my own negligence be ogled by you!”

“Konnie.” Gur-Rai sounded so hurt by that.

“You did not earn any such torment.” Zafar spoke up, from where he knelt along the stones. “This was not your fault.” He looked to his own sister, who stood frozen with a look of overwhelming guilt clouding her face.

Heavy footsteps joined them, and Gur-Rai looked up, sighing in relief. “Fucking took you long enough! Kon-Mai, Malinalli’s here. She’s gonna fix you up.”

Kon-Mai muttered something through her hands, but as Malinalli reached to pull them away from her face, she wrenched away from the nurse’s grasp.

“Kon-Mai, I need to see the wound.” Malinalli insisted. Dhar-Mon sat on the other side of his sister, rubbing her back.

She looked up, only one eye peeking through her fingers. “No.” She hissed. “There is no cure for this.” She heaved. “Let me be!”

Malinalli grimaced, her expression uncharacteristically harsh. “I saw you when you were half dead, unconscious on the operating table, intestines hanging on a rack..” She said calmly. “I’ve seen you at your worst, Konnie, and it wasn’t enough to scare me away.” She reached out and put a hand on her knee. “You’re one of my closest friends. No, not friend: you’re my family. And you need to let me help you.”

“Sister.” Gur-Rai said again. “I hate seeing you like this. You’re still my baby sister and I’m still supposed to protect you…”

She peeked at him, one eye watering.

“You have always taken the brunt of the pain.” Dhar-Mon added. “To cry is not to show weakness. Let us heal you, and this whole thing will fade into memory.”

Kon-Mai seemed to take a shaken breath, and then pulled her finger away and pressed closer to Gur-Rai. “Do not look too long…”

Malinalli got closer, taking her chin in her hands. It really wasn’t as bad as Kon-Mai had made it seem: the droplets of acid had cut a small indentation from her eye to her cheek, and the eyelid itself was burnt and crusted, but luckily the eyeball seemed untouched. She must have closed it before the attack.

Malinalli pulled a bottle of water and added a weak powder base, shaking it up. “I’m gonna flush the wound out first. Lean forward a bit for me?”

Gur-Rai shifted so he was holding his sister partially over the sand, and Malinalli worked on cleansing the remaining acid from her face. Kon-Mai winced a bit, but seemed to be holding well.

Finally patting the red wound dry, Malinalli turned to Dhar-Mon. “I’m going to hold the edges of the wound closed, Can you heal her?”

“Almost certainly.” He already was gathering purple energy into his hands.

Gur-Rai wrapped an arm around Kon-Mai’s shoulder and leaned her onto his chest. She tried to pull away, but his grip was true. “I gotchu Sis.” She said softly. “I gotchu.”

Dhar-Mon lifted Kon-Mai’s head a little. She flinched at the direct sunlight, attempting to pull away, but Dhar-Mon grabbed her hand. “It’s only me, Sister. No one else is looking except Molly.”.

Malinalli reached up to her face, right under her eye, and began to pinch closed the wound, and Dhar-Mon pressed his fingers to her ragged face.

.

.

She wished she could open the window, but at this altitude? She’d have sucked all the furniture into the sky~

Still, Senuna could pretend that the air conditioning in her quarters was the evening air, and she took a deep breath as she stared out into the orange clouds.

“You know, I think we’re going to win this time.” She said.

No answer her at first, but then Zhang spoke. “Why?”

“Because.” She shrugged.

“Just because?” Zhang chuckled, leaning on his cane. “Oh Sunny, even in a completely alien world, you always stay the same.”

She looked back and smiled at him. “...Tell me a story.”

“Of what?”

“Of your Triad days.” She plopped down on her bed, her white cape fluttering around her. “You hardly ever talk about it.”

“Because I regret most of it.” Zhang sighed and leaned back. “But I suppose…how much do you know about Hong Kong?”

“It had a strained relationship with China.” She replied. “I played a charity show there once. It was so loud and bright and lively…”

“Those lights hid a lot.” He admitted. “But let's see. This was from...when I was about 23 or so. Still rather knew, but I’d been around the ropes a few times.”

“I don;t think that’s how the saying goes.”

He ignored her. “I was waiting for a contact by myself by a very old train station.”

“How old?”

“I didn’t see a train come by once. The tracks were all wooden, which I suppose isn’t weird in and of itself, but then the station creaked and groaned with the slightest wind, and I felt as though it was going to come down around me.”

Senuna leaned forward, entranced.

“Well, I’m waiting, and waiting, and a good hour passes. My contact has not arrived. So I start to look around. Maybe they got lost.”

“Did they?”

“To this day, I don’t know.” He sat back. “But after a while, I decide to start walking down the tracks, thinking I might find them. I kept walking and eventually, the tracks disappeared into a tunnel.”

“Did you go in?”

“Yes, against my better judgement.” He chuckled. “Inside the tunnel it was pitch black, I couldn’t see the light at the other side. It would have been pointless to keep walking. And yet...once I began I couldn’t stop.”

Senuna smiled just a hair.

“The tunnel looked empty but I...felt things all around me. I was not alone in there.”

“Were you scared?”

“Strangely? No.” He stopped, one finger tapping the bulb on his cane. “...I would have felt more scared if I were alone. But whatever these things were, they were not there to hurt me. I was...encircled by them. Protected, even if I couldn’t see them.

“Eventually, the tunnel came to an end and let out into a subway station. I took the train back and told the boss our client was a no show.”

“What next?” Senuna asked. “Did you ever go back?”

“I tried.” He sighed. “But I could never find that train station, or that tunnel, again.”

.

.

The agony of existence was all she knew. It began when she was born, when she first heard the whispers of the universe within her feeble mind. It had never been enough to kill her, but it had ached along her brow on and off for years, just sharp enough for her to know something was wrong, but never enough to bring her to the edges of sanity. Instead she lingered in it’s empty threshold.

Her mother, a cruel woman, had ignored her pleas for relief. Her little sisters, the favored ones, had hid from her. Her father? God knew where he was. And so in her pain she lashed out. She struck at her sisters. She cursed her mother. But she never lied.

The cycle repeated. Ignorance. Pain. Anger. Lashing. Repeat until the peacekeepers kicked down their door, and they handed her over without a second thought.

At the beginning, all she felt was pain. The doctor’s knives, the drills, the lasers, blood, her blood, their blood as she fought back. But then time passed and that pain pushed her so close to the brink, she was left clawing at the edges of her mind, begging to be killed, just to make it stop…

Tiyanak, her parent, her creator, took her chin in their weathered hands and wiped away her tears, meeting her red eyes. “You are perfect.” They said. “You are perfect in this pain.”

And with that, she broke. Pushed over the precipice, the drills and knives and blood became her safety, her Elder’s hands became her cradle.

Xezbeth themselves lifted her from the table, their hunched back curling around her like a womb. The sweet smell of decay flooded her nostrils and it was glorious.

Her two masters stood over her as they lowered her into the acid bath, into the tube that would strip away the last of her human flaws and reveal her true potential to the world.

“You are ready.”

.

.

The darkness of the medical tent was a relief from the oppressive sun. Kon-Mai’s eye was still slightly burning, but Malinalli had assured her that the acid had all been flushed away, and that the residual feeling was likely her eye trying to clear itself.

She stared into her cup of tea, at the blurry outline of her face. Completely mended, barely a mark on her, perhaps a bit of a faint line on her cheek but nothing noticeable. It was like she was never wounded.

She felt silly. And then she felt bad. She should not have reacted in such a way. It was uncouth, bad form. She had snapped at her brother, and surely alienated their potential allies. Kon-Mai straightened her back and tried to alleviate herself of the idea that her meltdown had lost her the respect of her students.

The tent flap fluttered aside ever so slightly. Speaking of her students, Nazira hesitantly poked her head in. “...You awake in here?”

“Are you inquiring for entry?” Kon-Mai put her tea on the stone table before her. “You may come inside.”

Nazira stepped into the shade, her arms hugging her scrawny body. “I came to apologize.”

“Apologize…?” Kon-Mai wondered if her expression truly conveyed the confusion she felt.

“I shouldn’t have reacted that way and I shouldn’t have hurt you.” Nazira sat across from her, her legs crossed. “I should've known you weren’t going to hurt me.”

“You reacted to my attacking you.” Kon-Mai shook her head.

“You were training me, I think in that circumstance it was definitely an overreaction.”

“Did I not tell you your enemy will not fight fair?” Kon-Mai downed the last of her tea.

Nazira scoffed. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think the sword is my thing, honestly.”

Kon-Mai’s heart dropped. “A shame...you are quite talented.”

“You think so?” Nazira shook her head. “No. That’s a slippery slope. Besides, I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”

“That is perfectly valid.” Kon-Mai nodded. “As long as you can defend yourself.”

Nazira laughed. “I don’t think that will be an issue. If I could do a number on the Chosen Assassin of all people-”

“Shrinemaiden.” Kon-Mai corrected her.

“You too, hm? You all really want to rebrand yourselves.”

“I want to distance myself from the Elders.” Kon-Mai annunciated each word.

“Well, I can’t blame you, I did the same thing.”

There was a bit of awkward silence between the two, and Kon-Mai took the opportunity to speak.

“I am sorry for my outburst.” She said. “It was not fair to you. You should not have had to see me in such a state.”

Nazira blinked. “Such a state…? Your face was melting off.” She scoffed. “Honestly, I would have screamed too!”

Kon-Mai stared at her lap. “I should have maintained my composure. It was unbecoming of me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am, and I want you to know I am sorry.” Kon-Mai met Nazira’s eyes (green like her blood). “I hope you can forgive me.”

“Absolutely not.” Nazira jumped to her feet. “Because there’s nothing to forgive! I hurt you, Kon-Mai, and you reacted! That’s not losing composure!”

“I am the Shrinemaiden.” Kon-Mai felt her own blood boiling. “I have an image I must maintain, a face I must present to the world, and I cannot let it slip. Or I will fail, just like before.”

“Fail in what?” Nazira asked her pointedly, and Kon-Mai did not have an answer. Perhaps it was good, then that the tent flap fluttered aside and Gur-Rai poked his head in.

“Have either of you girls seen Pangu?”

.

.

Imdugud did not like following Xezbeth and Tiyanak toward anywhere they were excited to go. Xezbeth had no filter but at least he knew what to expect from them. Tiyanak was almost as cunning as their masters.

They led him down the dark, slick hallways of their personal laboratory. The scientists he did see all avoided his gaze, mulling about as if in a trance. Within the closed doors, he heard various screams of abject horror. It was enough to make even his skin crawl.

Tiyanak pushed open one of the doors. “See for yourself. She is ready.”

Imdugud looked them in the face. “I swear upon the stars, if this is a trap-”

“No traps. No tricks.” Tiyanak reached out and pushed the door open. “Dua-Zoar. Please, step forward.” From the darkness, a glowing purple light emerged as the new hybrid stepped into view. 

The alien woman wore intricate armor, carved with Etheric runes like the Priests, but her purple eyes were merely covered by a black and purple visor. Atop her head was a red crest sprouting from her skull. Her molted skin was crimson as blood. In one hand she held what appeared to be a modified stun baton, but the edges had been sharpened, and the tip was a deadly point.

Imdugud drifted toward her, and she looked up at him, then past him at her creator.

“Bow, child.” Tiyanak told her.

Dua-Zoar knelt on one knee.

“She is the last of the Holy Lancers.” Tiyanak said. “Our newest creation.”

“How much did this cost?” Imdugud grumbled.

Tiyanak was silent, but Xezbeth spoke their mind. “You see the miracle of life before you, and all you can think to ask is how much we spent?”

“Need I remind you two that WE ARE IN DEBT?!” Imdugud whirled around. “We do not have time  or resources to waste on this frivolous expenditure! You were supposed to make Priests!”

“Do you honestly expect a Priest could have taken in the Chosen Assassin?” Tiyanak chuckled. “You will find that these elite warriors are built to hunt them. They are nearly as powerful, and infinitely more loyal.”

“Really now?” Imdugud looked at his papers. “...How many did you make?”

“50 to start. But we can expedite production on more.”

“No, we’re straining resources as it is. But if she’s here already....” He turned back to Dua-Zoar, who stared up at him, her purple eyes cutting into his soul.

“Will you obey me like your master?” Imdugud asked.

*“I am yours to do with as you please.”* Dua-Zoar said in a voice that bounced off the walls and shattered on his feeble frame.

“Good.” He reached down and laid a crooked hand on her cheek. “Might as well make use of what we have.”

.

.

.

.

.

Summary: This chapter begins with Tiyanak and Xezbeth, another pair of married Elders, kidnapping a human woman for use in their experiments. Their goal is to create a servant that is strong enough to take down the Chosen, and still be loyal to them. By the end of the chapter, Imdugud, another Elder, is introduced to Dua-Zoar, a Holy Lancer and the result of the aforementioned experiments.

At the oasis, Kon-Mai begins training Zafar and Nazira in sword fighting. While Zafar does well, accepting his defeat at the hands of the master. Nazira becomes startled and sprays Kon-Mai with acidic blood, wounding her eye. Kon-Mai’s brothers hear her screaming, and while Gur-Rai goes to comfort her, Dhar-Mon rushes to get Malinalli. At first, Kon-Mai refuses treatment due to past trauma, however Malinalli eventually gets her to open up, and is able to heal the wound.

(Hello my dudes! Sorry this one is a bit late. Luckily, I had a burst of inspiration in the last couple of days, something I dearly needed. The fires in my county are about halfway contained, so I think the danger of evacuation is over. However, if the next chapter is also late, you can thank my incoming school work lol.

Last thing: I want to thank everyone who has been asking questions on my Tumblr as of late! They’re a real blast to answer and you guys come up with the most interesting questions. If you want to ask the characters anything, check out either the dedicated blog, @chosenstories or my personal blog, @witharsenicsauce.)

Archive: https://chosenstories.tumblr.com/

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 986 - Initial Thoughts

That’s some good juice there, though I still have some reservations Chapter 986 has its translations at last and it’s time to see what made the editor cry

Spoilers for Chapter 986, Support the Official Release

Dang they did Pound dirty like that, he finally reunites with his family and they are just put into such an overload that they bounce in disbelief

We begin with Kin’emon and Denjiro strangely having done a full rotation around Onigashima to meet up with the other Scabbards, I guess only half of their unit raided each side of the dome

Kanjuro’s limp body lay as nostalgia gets the better of the Scabbards, though I still am not sure I believe it, why show the cut hand? If he is dead (his paintings did disappear) then I’m fine with that too, it’s just dead bodies don’t tend to “POF” when being walked past...okay so maybe the week has gotten to me, turns out Kin dropped his hat over Kanjuro’s head, still reserve that he may not be dead yet

Izo here though to lift spirits, saying you’ve survived worse though...The Payback War leads to questions but that is a red flag

Back to Kaido’s ultimatum though, it’s unsurprising that Orochi’s men would join Kaido, they weren’t really one for respecting the Kurozumi, though the Oniwaban and Mimawari do seem to have doubts, interesting too was how Kaido acknowledged and respected if the Samurai refused to join him

Hyou however is about to throw fisticuffs over this dishonour, it does make me wonder though, could I really fault Orochi’s forces for choosing to live under a strong banner than die for an honor code you could still personally live by?

Things are not looking good for Nami and Carrot, who have been collected by Big Mom’s new homies and probably gonna be used as bait, I would have to guess that someone steps in for them, Sanji is the obvious choice but how’s about Robin, or Brook! He can Soul King those Homies away and he and Franky have been AWOL for months

Meanwhile Shinobu becomes accounted for as she charges in to rescue Momo

The Kozuki heir himself is given a lifeboat by Kaido though, his growing disappointment in Momo reaching a point where he doesn’t even want him to be Oden’s son, so he gives him the chance to leave that shadow, In a way it’s the same ultimatum as Orochi’s forces: dishonour your culture to live, or die

Yamato is getting kept up to speed too, now they know that Oden’s bloodline lives on and so do his retainers. I wonder if it changes them in any way, they wanted to ‘be Oden’ partly to achieve Oden’s will because they thought nobody else was left

The cuffs actually come off at last, seems that Luffy still needs to focus a little to use his Goken Armament, but at least we won’t faff about with that. It’s strange that Yamato as strong as they’re implied was so surprised by it too

News of Luffy and Yamato’s presence though has begun a convergence, Ulti and Who’s Who pictured (wonder where Drake, Maria and Pay-Pay are), Usopp and Chopper are now going in to save Momo from what looks like the storage room, Chopper seems to imply they’re around the numbers so that means God Usopp’s gotta slay some giants

We get a Supernova shot as well; Law be sneakin’, Kid looks a bit bloodied but having fun and Zoro is still not trying to exert himself. Only ones missing are Killer, Drake, Apoo and Hawkins for it to be all the Wano Supernovas (unless Bege somehow ends up in Wano from the cover story)

Thinking of Luffy and his parents, Momo refuses Kaido’s life boat, declaring himself to the world and finally cementing his goal, he wants to be Shogun, and he basically does it the same way Luffy does his Pirate King speech

Kaido did not like that though, and the crowd laugh at his ‘foolishness’, but as a blow is about to be made Yamato’s cuffs blow up! Kaido really wasn’t kidding

So of course, as any child would if they discovered that their parent had legitimately imprisoned them with explosive cuffs, Yamato denounces Kaido as their father. Though they are really choked up about it, the last panel of their hand is weird too

Luffy with the nicknames, Yama-o. I dunno if it’s some joke, Yama is a god of death but that’s as far as my knowledge goes XD turns out it’s just the same a Tora-o, so it’s Yama-guy. Luffy respecting them pronouns even though I’m not certain if Yamato still identifies as he, would be an SBS one for clarification

Luffy does that badass bait and switch ‘the raid has started, but not for us!’ - From the Back come the scabbards as Jack is given a blast from the past

Izo quickly disarming King was surprising, Neko disarming Kaido was even more

Mid Brag though Kaido sees it, the image of Oden before he was last cut, he still tells his men to be ready but he’s off the balcony already thanks to Kin and Denjiro’s lunge

Sunacci In Fucking Deed!

A big chapter of course, we are officially starting the raid now But it is still very crowded, and we haven’t even seen Brook and Franky, let alone Caribou, Apoo, Jimbei, Robin, Sanji, Hiyori, Drake, Marco, Perospero or Killer in this chapter. Straight off the bat I am still unsure if Orochi or Kanjuro are dead, I feel there may be more to it, but maybe the Nine Scabbards prophecy by Toki wasn’t for Orochi but for Kaido, and it is he who will know the brilliance of the dawn? This chapter mainly belonged to the Scabbards and Momo, the latter finally gaining his courage in the face of death. The Luffy and Yamato stuff was a bit simple, I am still not on Team Yamato for Nakama and Luffy getting their name wrong feels like it could be a hint (I can’t remember, has Luffy every gotten the name of a future crewmate wrong?) but who knows at this point Usopp and Chopper have Numbers to deal with, Law, Kid and Zoro are walkabouts, Nami and Carrot are captured, Sanji nowhere to be Stealth Black’d, it’s not even by the slightest bit evenly matched given that two Yonko are here. And while I expect Shinobu to make it to Momo, I don’t expect Kaido to be killed by the Scabbards like that.

But alas, I did not cry at this, maybe there’s some hindsight required or maybe the editor is a bit soft, we had a similar thing with a My Hero Academia chapter which while tense was not tears level for me. Ah well, good chapter all the same.

Oh, and mercifully no break, colour page incoming as well, time for Oda to wack us out again with unusual colour schemes

[mightyhemsworthy]

SURVIVAL INSTINCTS (Jake Gyllenhaal x Reader)

Fandom: Jake Gyllenhaal x (fem!)Reader

Requested by: @cxxl-gall

The reader and Jake Gyllenhaal doing the Bear Grylls thing that he did/or something similar (2011) and they’re flirting throughout the day. When Bear makes 2 separate shelters, one for him and the other for the two ‘celebrities’, horny frustrations and attractions to each take its toll when they end up getting on with each other (off camera). - This is my first request EVER I'm so honored and happy! I LOVED WRITING THIS! I altered some things, but I hope you'll like it anyways!!

Word count: almost 3,5K.

Warnings: silly and dirty (also cringeworthy) jokes, insecurity (as always with my fics) and smut.

GIF: mine (from Man Vs. Wild, S07E01)

Author's note: I was watching the episode which he played in and I gathered some inspiration from it. I hope it is not messy and all over the place, I tried my best. Please keep in mind that English is not my native language so I'm sorry for any kind of mistakes. It’s a little bit cringy at the beginning but Bear with me (lol). If you have any ideas or wishes just let me know in an ask or something. I don’t promise that I’ll write them 100%, because I work but if I have the time and inspiration I definitely will!!❤️

Author’s note 2:  I’m sorry for any kind of mistakes about the show, I’m not quite familiar with it.

__

Man Vs. Wild. Expect this time it's Woman & Men vs. Wild, starring with Y/N and Jake Gyllenhaal as special guests on Bear Grylls’ show's new season. This was the first time that a woman has been on the show, but this was a very well needed change.

However, as you looked down from the helicopter, you weren't sure this was a great idea anymore.

"Great, we're going to die," you said to Jake, as Bear was talking to the crew to get through some safety precautions as he did with the two of you a few minutes ago.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you," Jake breathed through his scarf, which was covering half of his face, making his blue eyes pop up which was just as beautiful as the Icelandic mountains, glaciers, and lakes which laid underneath you. It was a breathtaking sight; the country was truly dazzling and still kept its integrity during the age of climate change. You loved nature and adventures, that is why you wanted to be on this show with Jake, as you promote your new movie together. Even though you were quite reversed, you liked to try out new things once in a while.

"Yeah, sure," you answered to him, as the pilot started to take down the helicopter. "We'll see how much you can protect yourself first," you added sassily, which made him roll his eyes.

"You have a big mouth now, but I'm curious to see how you'll behave at the end of the day," he said loudly and you just started to chuckle.

"I always have a big mouth, but you couldn’t have known that," you said before you jumped to the ground, smiling under your jacket. Sadly, you couldn't see his reaction, but he was just staring at your back, taken aback with unreadable emotions on his face. Bear patted him on the shoulder as he said:

"I like her."

* 

As a new movie comes out, sometimes it is required to pretend to have some tension between the actors as it was a great tool of marketing. Sometimes it is in the contract, sometimes it's not necessary. You and Jake didn't talk about anything like this with your manager, however, the tension between the two of you was there. Dirty jokes and unnoticeable flirtation were constantly present and even Bear mentioned it throughout the shooting.

"Jesus Christ, guys, I'll make a tent for the two of you and just get over with this because you're ruining my show," he said jokingly, but his words were honest.

Marching through mountains was the easy part of the expedition, however, things started to go downhill (literally) when Bear decided to march through a river... almost naked.

"Jake, you've down this before, right?" Grylls asked as he started to take off his beanie and jacket. You were just standing there, watching them. Even though you've pretended that you're a badass and though woman, underneath the layers there were lots of insecurities and doubts. You didn't want to get undressed before them, especially not in front of Jake.

"Yes, in 2011," he answered as he got off more and more layers. You were just still standing there, with your arms crossed.

Bear looked up at you, with concern in his eyes.

"What's wrong, Y/N?" he asked and at this point, Jake looked at you as well. He was shirtless, wearing his cargo pants and boots, but his chest was naked. The only thing which was still there is his chain, which made you insane.

He was flushed because of the cold, his hair was messy, his eyes were dilated as he looked at you. He was perfect and you were... well, you. Even though you were preparing for your role, you were never satisfied with how you looked. You always seemed to be anxious about your body, although you were perfect just the way you are. Jake thought the same, even when he said nothing.

"What should I take off?" you asked shyly looking at Bear as you were too afraid to look Jake in the eyes.

"Just the..." Grylls started but Jake cut him off.

"Well, everything if it's up to me," Jake said and suddenly all of your fear disappeared. The tension on your shoulders eased up as you started to unzip your jacket.

"In your dreams, Gyllenhaal," you shivered as the cold crept between the layers as you started to undress.

"Just the top layers," said finally Grylls, rolling his eyes as took his backpack. "I would advise removing your shirts and keeping only the bra if you're comfortable with that, but if not only till you reach your shirt," he added, and he turned away.

Jake looked at you, his eyes were filled with something which you could not understand. He was behaving so much different than he used to. You always joked, in and out of set, but lately, things started to get ... out of control.

Crossing each other’s arms, you started to march in the river. It was incredibly cold, waking up all of your senses. You were freezing, shivering and your teeth started to clench together as you were taking more and more distance.

"Nice and steady," added Bear as he guided the two of you towards the dry area. Jake's skin slightly brushed against yours. His touch was like fire against the icing cold water which was constantly licking your boots. You tried to focus on the road, but it was quite difficult as Jake radiated the heat next to you. You wanted to embrace his warmth, melting between his arms but that was just impossible to do.

“Nice and controlled”, he said again almost reaching the other end of the river. When you did, you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. A sudden wave of relief washed you over as all of you started to dress up again to protect yourselves from the cold. You were out of breath as your body was given to these extreme situations, but you liked the experience so far. It was a nice day when you could enjoy the nature around you without thinking about the fast and stressful real life which was waiting for you.

The men next to you were groaning as they were dressing as well.

“How did you like it, Y/N?” Grylls asked and a smile pressed across your face.

 “I loved it, I feel like a freaking Lara Croft and I love it!” you said excitedly, and Jake couldn’t notice how adorable you were with this enthusiasm. Your cheeks were flushed as well, which was a nice contrast to your “ordinary” skin. Your eyes were shining with so much joy that he wanted to see this moment till the rest of his life.

“Good,” Bear added. “The fun just only begins,” and oh boy, he was right…

*

He was also right when he said that he’ll make a tent just for the two of you.

“What’s this?” you asked kind of surprised as you saw two shelters built up quite far from each other.

“We’ll sleep here and the two of you’ll sleep there if that is okay,” he said, pointing to the other direction. Well, you wanted to protest but you knew that you didn’t have any chance, so you just nodded and started to walk into the other direction.

“Goodnight,” you said to them as the darkness started to lay down on your surroundings. Jake hasn’t followed you yet as he was talking to Bear about tomorrow’s schedule. You went to the tent which was quite big, so you had plenty of places to arrange your stuff. You laid down your sleeping bag, as well as the night lamp. Switching it on, it gave the tent a nice feeling, pulsating warmth from the bulb. You took down your cap as well as your jacket, laying in your t-shirt and jeans as you took out two blankets to wrap yourself in.

You’ve just laid there, watching the shadows through the tent as you were thinking about the actions which happened that day. Gosh, you were so frustrated and… aroused. Which was slightly absurd in this situation, but you’ve just couldn’t help yourself. You were thinking about Jake’s bare, slightly hairy chest, which was decorated by his necklace. His plumped lips, his rosy cheeks, his beard…

Your thoughts were interrupted by the man himself, unzipping the front of the tent, letting himself in. He smiled as he laid beside you, taking off his beanie and parka as you did a few minutes ago.

“What a day,” he breathed. You tried to fight the urge to turn towards him. Your whole body was aching, you wanted to turn around and touch him, wanted to feel him, his touch, his warmth, his… “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly. You left out a breath.

“Yes, sure,” you swallowed as he was moving behind you. “What about you?” you asked back.

“I’m fine,” he said curtly and that was it. The two of you didn’t speak for a few minutes, that is when you decided to switch off the light and try to get some sleep.

But sleep didn’t welcome you. It didn’t want to embrace you like Jake’s arms wanted. You turned a little bit to lay on your back, but in this way, the cold from the ground started to wrap around you more and more. You were sure that you won’t get any rest today, so you huffed out the breath in frustration.

“What’s wrong?” Jake asked, his voice was kind of sleepy and hoarse which made your current feelings worse. You never knew you would fall this hard for this man, but things just happened. From the moment you’ve seen him on set, he turned your world upside down and it was very difficult to admit it.

“I can’t sleep,” you answered, he didn’t say anything, but his fingers slowly reached for yours. He started to caress the back of your hand with his fingertips to ease you up a little bit, but your whole body was tensed up and cold.

“You’re freezing, Y/N,” he said softly taking your whole palm into his hands, rubbing it lightly to give some life back to them. The sudden sensation felt so good, that your whole body and core started to throb for more. “I can make you warm if you would like,” he offered, and you were grateful that you were laying as your whole body buckled.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” you breathed out, swallowing hard the knot which was filling your throat. You turned back to your side, as he lifted your blankets and pressed his whole body against your back. You tried to bite back a moan at the sudden heat and his touch, trying to keep your eyes shut as he softly started to rub your shoulders and hands to make them warmer.

He caressed them for a few minutes when he suddenly pressed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. Your whole body shivered as his beard scraped you, making you tickle. You started to giggle at the feeling, moving between his arms which were now wrapped around your whole body, keeping you steady.

“Jake,” you whispered, as he pressed another kiss, making you shiver and filling you up with heat at the same time. Now, all of your senses were awake, and they were on fire. Your whole body was boiling with desire and lust, it was really hard not to turn around and kiss him desperately. “What are you doing?” your voice was rough.

“Keeping you warm,” he answered and chuckled into the crock of your neck, burying his head in it. This felt so right and so wrong at the same time. “I can stop if you don’t want it,” he offered and oh boy, you didn’t want to stop. But you had questions.

“Is this because of this day?” you asked, and he suddenly stopped his actions, listening to you. “Or you…” you didn’t know how to ask it, but you wanted to know if there is more than sexual tension between the two of you.

“What do you mean?” he asked softly, his breath stroked your neck making you shiver.

“You just want sex from me?” you asked, and you could feel that his whole body tensed up behind you.

After a few seconds, he finally answered.

“Yes, I mean, no…” he said as he elbowed up to see your face better in the darkness. “Currently yes, I would really like to have sex with you, but not just because of today,” he said and slightly grabbed your chin to make him look at you. “I want you, not just now but from now on,” your heart started to beat faster at his words, pumping against your ribcage harder than before. “I wanted you from the first day of the set but today, I’ve lost my goddamn mind today and I don’t want to hold it back anymore,” he whispered and that is what you needed. He leaned closer to you, his half body was still pressed against you and you could feel his hardening member which was painfully squeezed between the two of you.

“I know,” you finally breathed. “Today was something new,” you added and he nodded in the dark, cutting the distance more and more between the two of you. “You said,” you started. “That you want to keep me warm.”

“Yeees,” he said.

“You’re on the right track,” you chuckled and that is what he needed. He pressed his lips against yours.

The two of you were in a very intimate position, your body was brushing against his, but you turned your head to the side to have better access for him, while he hazily rested his fingers on your neck as he started to conquer your mouth more and more. He was an amazing kisser, needless to say. You lifted your hands, racing through his hair while he slowly rolled his tongue against yours, lowering his hands till he reached your jeans.

He was such a tease, moving incredibly slowly which made you impatient and lose your mind. He started to rub your clit through the fabric, which made you arch your back more which so delicately rubbed against his cock.

“Jake,” you moaned between kisses when he grabbed your waist and turned you, so now you laid on your back. He climbed on top of you, looking at you as you were laying underneath him. He liked this sight and he couldn’t wait to get use to it.

He moved painfully slow, removing your jeans and boots, to expose your wet underwear to him. He did not say anything, he did not have to as the moan which escaped from his mouth told more than words. He didn’t want you to get cold, so as he positioned between your legs, he arranged the blankets to make you feel warm. He couldn’t wait to taste you, but he wanted to torture you a little bit before that. 

He started to give small kisses to your thighs, dangerously close to your wet folds. Your whole body started to shake and getting hot at the same time. You could feel that your icy limbs started to warm up, scorching through your whole body as he was kissing you. You slightly grabbed his hair, trying to get him closer to your core but he resisted.

“Wow, you can’t wait,” he started to laugh at your reaction, but he liked to see this vulnerable side of you.

“Can you blame me?” you asked him.

“No, but this what I like to see, Miss L/N” he breathed. “You’re such a mess for me,” he growled while he raced his mouth and nose through your flesh. You arched your back, wanting some kind of friction to ease your tension but he stopped again.

“Jake…” you muttered now, kind of angrily and he just chuckled at how impatient you were.

“Alright, alright…” he said, suddenly pushing your panties aside while he dug his finger into you. The movement was so quick and unexpected that your walls already clenched around him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight” he purred, while with his other hand he started to massage your clit finally giving the feeling what you’ve needed.

He dug now two fingers into you while he replaced his other hand with his tongue, tasting your juices which were now all over him. His beard started to tickle you as he was eating you out, but it made the whole situation even better. You were truly a mess underneath him, but you did not care. Your whole body was now on fire and it was really difficult to imagine that the two of you were in a tent in the middle of the cold Icelandic territory.

He made you feel so good that you wanted him inside of you. Just by imagining it - as well he was fucking you with his fingers mercilessly - you orgasm hit you so powerfully that you cried out his name as you were grabbing his hair as well. He licked you through your orgasm, never stopping. Your eyes rolled back as you give yourself to the sensation. Your vision faded and you couldn’t stop saying his name over and over again. He liked it hearing from your mouth and he liked that he did this to you, providing you all the emotions which made you weak and a good girl for him.

You did not notice how he stopped and looked at you, while he sucked your cum off his fingers. He looked straight into your eyes while doing it and it made him so hot that you wanted to taste yourself on him. Like he was reading your mind, he bent down to give you a heated kiss, conquering your mouth, sliding his tongue inside of it to interlace his with yours. Your taste which interfered with his tasted so good, that you wanted him being inside you as fast as possible.

He kissed you roughly, while he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down his briefs a little bit. He pumped himself a few times and made his way towards your entrance, between your legs. You couldn’t react anything else as he slid into you, making your whole world tremble. It took a few seconds to adjust to his size, but you assumed you felt as good as he did to you. He buried his head into the crock of your neck, while he pinned your wrist beside your head. You hooked your legs around him, pushing him further and deeper into you. He rewarded you with a muffled sound, trying not to cum on the spot because of how goodly you took him. You were the perfect amount of wet and tight which he started to fuck, losing his mind.

“Fuck, babe,” he moaned as he tilted a little bit to the side, grabbing your thighs to penetrate you from a different and a deeper angle. The pool of pleasure started to grow in your belly again, while he hit you all the right places steadily and fast.

“Fuck,” you cried out as well. Maybe your moans and screams could have been heard from the other tent, but you just couldn’t care. And it seemed that it turned Jake on ever more than he already was.

He was looking at you if you were a goddess. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he squeezed your thigh and ass harder as he was approaching his pleasure as well, leaving imprints all over your body. The burn in your belly started to spread and you reached your high once again as you shattered into ten million pieces. After a few seconds, he followed you as well, feeling his cock pulsating inside of you as he brushed the softest kiss of the night to your lips.

It was so sweet and gentle that you could truly melt underneath him at this point. You tried to recollect yourself, reach for your breath and make it steady as sudden sweat took over your body, beaming through the whole tent.

“I’m warmed up now,” you whispered, and he started to chuckle.

“I hope so, but we’re just only getting started,” he said and pressed another kiss to your lips.

*

Your way home was quite uncomfortable, to say the least. You were cold, your whole body hurt, and you were tired. You just couldn’t wait to reach home and sleep till tomorrow. 

“So, guys,” Bear started as the three of you headed to the helicopter. “How did you sleep last night?” he asked, something lingering in his voice as he did so.

“Well, I didn’t get much sleep last night,” you answered, looking to the side where Jake was marching beside you. The two of you exchanged some looks and smirks when Grylls said:

“I bet that. I bet.”

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

43 n 50 kazumaji? 🥺 ty!

Thank you friend! Sorry for the delay, a lot’s been going on ^^; I have in fact already done 43 here, but I’ll gladly do 50! Please send another to make up for it c: 

50. Who gets overwhelmed by small acts of kindness?

Majima had been staring at the box most of the day. It was just a plain, wood pulp box with a bow, not even big or menacing or ticking. But he couldn’t bring himself to even touch it. 

“So, we’ll be behind on the pylons, but the extra time to settle the foundation should mean... sir?” Nishida interrupted his report again as he noticed Majima had drifted back to staring at the box on his desk again. His eyes switched between the box and his boss. “Is there a-”

“Look at it, Nishida,” Majima gestured to the box like he hadn’t heard a word, “just look at it.” 

Nishida convinced himself not to say that he had been looking at it. “Have you tried opening it?” he offered hopefully.

“‘Course I haven’t!” Majima snapped, eyes flicking to Nishida briefly, before sliding inexorably back to the box. “...could be dangerous,” he muttered, a gloved hand rubbing his lips as he rested his chin on his elbows. 

Nishida rolled his eyes and allowed himself a small sigh. “Well, I can open it for you,” he said, stepping forward with a hand outstretched, “and then-”

“NO!” Majima screeched, springing up, “Ya can’t do that! Ya can’t open another man’s present! It goes against... against honor and valor and... stuff! The nerve! Why if I didn’t know better, Nishida-”

“Okay, okay!” Nishida held up his hands in surrender, already having retreated several feet. “I won’t touch it,” he promised, making a disavowal with his arms. 

Majima nodded curtly and sat back down, eyes already back on the box with a worried frown. 

Nishida straightened and made for the door, then paused. “Then you do know it’s a present...?” 

Majima’s throat caught on a strangled sound and he swallowed before nodding. “Yeah... s’pose.” 

Nishida cocked his head, considering. “...alright then, boss. We’ll be trying to get some work done out here.” 

Majima waved him out vaguely, hardly noticing when Nishida had gone and the door clicked behind him. He had very important box studying to do after all. 

Some time later, god fucking knew how long, the door to his office opened again and in strode Kiryu. 

“Majima-onii-san? Have you been here all day?” Kiryu's brow wrinkled, staring at Majima hunched over his desk, hair at weird angles where he’d been pulling at it. 

“Kiryu-chan!” Majima finally looked up, “Oh! Ya didn’t have to-” He straightened up and tried to smooth down his hair. “I mean, what brings ya here? I was in the middle of uh-”

Kiryu just walked forward and picked up the gift, rattling it gently. “Is this what’s been bothering you?” Kiryu frowned at Majima, then down at the little box. 

“No, I-” Majima tried to cover.

“I didn’t mean to offend,” Kiryu sighed, lips twisting down, “I can take it back...”

Majima bit his lip and groaned. “Oh, give it here!” He held his hand out impatiently. 

Kiryu raised an eyebrow, but put the box in Majima’s waiting hand. Without further ado, Majima lifted the lid and gently set it down to see a new pair of black leather gloves inside. 

“I happened to see some while I was out shopping,” Kiryu explained, “I noticed yours had a little hole in them, so I got you new ones. I... hope that’s okay? If the ones you’re wearing are sentimental I can take these back, it’s no... Majima?” 

Majima was busy flinging his old gloves off and trying not to sniffle.  “A-Allergies,” he explained, putting on Kiryu’s new gloves and flexing them. Kiryu carefully overlooked that Majima had been inside all day but just now was having a reaction. 

“They’re um... they need breaking in, but they’re... they’re real nice, Kiryu-chan. Thanks,” Majima managed when he felt safe enough to speak. 

Kiryu half-smiled. “I expect I’ll regret buying them for you in the next day or two, as you’ll have an excuse to accost me in the street more than usual now,” he teased.

Majima snorted a little. “Yeah, you know me too well,” he sighed, pitching his head back and hoping his face didn’t look too messed up. 

“You’re welcome, Majima-onii-san,” Kiryu murmured. 

“Ah, nuff of that fucking nonsense, or do ya want me to test these gloves out now?” Majima finally looked him in the eye, grinning.

Kiryu held his hands up, still smiling. “Just a joke. See ya ‘round, right?” 

Majima nodded. “Sooner than you think. I’m just itching for a fight for some reason.”

-

Who do you think can’t handle it?

[risottostitties]

I love your headcanon posts! what are some of your headcanons (backstory and personality) for the rest of La Squadra?

Oh boy, these got kinda long. I hope you enjoy my dumb rambling about La Squadra (also my bias towards Melone and Sorbet+Gelato is showing I’m so sorry) I added the songs I used for inspiration on Sorbet and Gelato’s stands so that’s something lmao

Also also I’m still trying to figure out formatting on tumblr I’m so sorry.

Also also also I have so many dumb headcanons for the inner bureaucratic workings of Passione and what each ‘position’ in the gang entails and how Passione became a dominant force in Italy and oops I’ve slipped them in here a bit my b.

Fromaggio

-        He got his start smuggling. Drugs, weapons, people, Little Feet made that a breeze.

-        The thought of being an assassin never crossed his mind, because it seemed like a lot of work. More so than smuggling which was basically just getting stuff from point a to point b without getting caught.

-        Fromaggio was a confident dude, laid back and easy going with an agreeable personality that most people enjoyed.

-        He’s not exactly details oriented though, and that’s what came to bite him in the ass.

-        He was working with one of the few groups not affiliated with Passione and it was only a matter of time before the operation was busted.

-        Fromaggio never really asked many questions about his jobs, nor did he care very much who or what he was smuggling. He met with a man in Malta seeking entrance into Naples and was willing to pay handsomely. So of course, Fromaggio agreed.

-        If he’d been paying more attention, he would have recognized that man as Prosciutto.

-        Fromaggio brought the assassin right into their main warehouse and it was game over from there.

-        Prosciutto took interest in Fromaggio’s stand and decided against killing the man, instead bringing him to Risotto to see what the Capo thought about his abilities.

-        When offered a choice between dying with the rest of his old associates or joining Passione, the choice was obvious.

-        He really, really enjoys gambling. Prosciutto supplements his income with Fromaggio’s gambling habit.

-        Fromaggio gets along well with all of La Squadra. He’s always been an agreeable dude and he’s willing to give just about anything a shot once. So he’s at least passingly knowledgeable about the interests and hobbies of other members.

-        Fromaggio, Prosciutto, Pesci, Ghiaccio, and Melone make up the main ‘kill squad’ of La Squadra where Illuso, Sorbet, and Gelato handle clean up and intel gathering.

 Illuso

-        Illuso does very little killing himself. For the most part, he deals with disposing of evidence. The mirror world is great for that.

-        Because of this he has the lowest kill count out of all of them.

-        He is Sicilian like Risotto, and they converse in Siciliano when it’s just the two of them. Neither of them is particularly chatty though.

-        Ghiaccio and Pesci didn’t know he was a member of the squad for weeks because he rarely ever leaves the mirror. He doesn’t even have a room in their hideout, he just sleeps in the room of whoever forgets to cover their mirror.

-        Most of the time its Pesci’s room because he feels bad

-        I hc him at about 27

-        He joined La Squadra after Ghiaccio and was more or less ‘gifted’ by Polpo because of his quiet demeanor.

Ghiaccio

-        He’s baby (24)

-        His first kill was at age 18 when he was working in a chop shop and beat someone to death with a wrench.

-        Melone was the one to bring him into La Squadra, his bike was getting some work done in the shop and he was there to see Ghiaccio snap.

-        Risotto wasn’t keen on letting someone so young join La Squadra and initially turned Ghiaccio away. Which pissed the boy off enough for him to seek out Polpo, demand a trial, and come back with White Album.

-        He had never skated in his life, but White Album gave him the instinctive ability to do so.

-        He can only skate while wearing White Album. Without it, he actually had to learn.

-        He reflexes and balance also improved greatly after gaining White Album

-        He’s the only one not ‘trained’ by Prosciutto, instead Risotto took over his ‘training’. The Capo wanted to personally make sure he was equipped to handle the life that comes with La Squadra.

-        Risotto and Ghiaccio are quite close. Risotto was initially intrigued by White Album and Ghiaccio liked Risotto the most because he was the only person who was careful with his words.

-        He’s got a keen eye for detail and an eidetic memory. He enjoys taking apart electronics and seeing how they work (and how he can improve them)

-        Ghiaccio enjoys working with cars, but doesn’t like all the oil and grease.

Melone

-        I hc his age at 28

-        He was always too inquisitive for his own good, and very curious as a child. Most people found him annoying

-        Melone has absolutely zero respect for personal space. If he likes you, he will hang off you without a second thought.

-        And if someone retaliates jokes on you he think’s its hot.

-        It is possible to make him angry, but he won’t let it show out of spite. You really gotta be angling for it if you want to piss him off, and if you’ve put in that much effort into getting a rise out of him he’s not going to give you the satisfaction.

-        His mom was like Giorno’s, a party girl who resented her children for holding her back

-        He has an older half sister who took care of him when he was younger. They were extremely close.

-        From her he learned to paint nails, braid hair, and they both really enjoyed looking at horoscopes and other astrology/pseudoscience things.

-        She was 10 years older than Melone, and when she married Melone went to live with her (he was about 12 at the time) and he never really got along with his brother in law.

-        Her husband was in Passione, a low ranking Soldato but an ambitious one. She was aware of her husband’s occupation but decided the risk was worth the reward (and the financial stability)

-        Her eventual pregnancy led to Melone’s fascination with pregnancy and childrearing.

-        She died due to complications with a late term miscarriage when he was 16

-        After this Melone and his brother in law stuck together. Melone joined Passione, receiving his stand from Polpo’s Arrow.

-        The pair of them had a pretty good scheme going on but eventually his brother in law bit off more than he could chew, and Risotto was called in to clean up the mess.

-        Babyface proved to be a challenge, and instead of eliminating Melone as he was working with the target Risotto decided to offer him a choice.

-        Self-preservation won out and in a show of loyalty Melone had Babyface kill his former brother in law. At best, he tolerated the man because his sister loved him and after she died he was a good meal ticket so when his life was on the line it didn’t take much prodding for Melone to turn on him.

-        It took a while for Risotto to trust him because of how easily Melone’s loyalties shifted but once that trust was earned Melone never gave Risotto a reason to regret it even if his impulsive decisions (such as dragging Ghiaccio into Passione) caused him some trouble occasionally.

Pesci

-        Pesci is actually, genuinely, a sweet guy. He’s respectful of his superiors, polite (if not a bit awkward) to strangers, will offer help if he sees someone struggling with a heavy bag or something on a high grocery shelf, the whole nine yards.

-        He has a habit of second guessing himself and apologizing often but is quick to offer reassurance to people if he sees they’re having a bad day.

-        He also has a hair trigger temper and killed a man by snapping his neck with his bare hands.

-        That’s what landed him in jail.

-        Its like flipping a switch with this guy.

-        Risotto personally bailed Pesci out of jail and brought him into his team because of his brute strength. It was novel, to see someone so capable without a stand.

-        He received his stand from Polpo’s arrow.

-        Pesci is the newest member of La Squadra, but not the youngest (that honor goes to Ghiaccio) and I personally hc him at 25

-        His ‘training’ mostly consists of shadowing Prosciutto and observing how he does things. There is a lot to be learned from watching another stand user work, even if their stands are vastly different.

-        He lacks real strategy, which is another reason he was teamed up with Prosciutto (who winds up ‘training’ most of the new recruits anyway)

-        He’ll be considered a full fledged assassin once he completes his first job on his own (with Illuso or Fromaggio tailing him to observe, depending on the abundance of mirrors)

Sorbet and Gelato

-        Of the two, Sorbet is the most talkative. He’s got a pretty good sense of humor, and a natural charisma about him that puts people at ease if they don’t already know him

-        Gelato and Prosciutto are both card sharks and they keep their skills sharp by practicing on each other.

-        While no one would call any of them selfless, they would lay down their lives for each other without hesitation.

-        They have so many words unique to their relationship that people listening in would assume they’re talking in code half the time.

-        Sorbet and Gelato are the oldest members of La Squadra. Sorbet was 36 when he died, and Gelato was 41

-        Sorbet got his start in Passione, Gelato was part of a ‘merger’ so to speak.

-        The previous syndicate Gelato was a part of was assimilated by Passione after Diavolo returned to Italy. He was familiar with Pericolo as they had been part of the same group.

-        Sorbet and Gelato both have stands, although they were both born stand users.

-        Gelato’s stand is called Mack the Knife and it allows him to eat anything regardless of size (and his stomach acid has a ph value of 1.3). On top of this, it also gives him sharp and study teeth. If for some reason something he eats breaks a tooth he has more in reserve, like a shark.

-        Sorbet’s stand is called Fortunate Son and essentially it hides the user and anyone they touch in plain sight. They’re not invisible, but you must be consciously looking for Sorbet in order to find him when Fortunate Son is active.

-        They joined La Squadra before it was ‘La Squadra’ Risotto (being green himself at the time) wanted more experienced people on his team but had little to no luck recruiting people until these two.

-        They’re well known in the gang for their unorthodox (putting it gently) methods of doing things and kept most people from approaching them.

-        Primarily they ‘interview’ people for information on Squadra targets, but those interviews always turn deadly.

-        While they enjoy killing more than anyone else in La Squadra, they don’t typically get kill jobs because they’re just good at interrogating people. They make do with that just fine though. Neither of them enjoys leaving loose ends.

-        Before Illuso joined, Gelato oversaw clean up and disposal.

[fan-fantasies]

Truth Hurts (P.11)

A/N: I know I have a few more requests to get through but I want to wrap this series up relatively soon. I think that there will be one more part after this one, maybe two. We’ll see how it goes as I’m writing. As always, I hope you enjoy! -Heather

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Masterlist   Marvel Masterlist 

Part Ten // Part Twelve

“I wanted you guys to be the first to hear this...” 

Bucky’s heart dropped into his stomach when the words left Ryan’s mouth. He was preparing for the worst possible outcome.

The thought of never seeing you again was making his head spin; never seeing your messy bedhead in the kitchen every morning, not hearing your laugh when Sam tells a stupid joke, never feeling your soft skin against his again, whether it be in training or when your hands brush when reaching for your favorite ice cream in the freezer. Bucky would have to live a life without you and he was certain that that would break him.

“Is she okay? Please tell me she’s okay,” Sam pleaded. Ryan looked around the room and sighed.

“She’s okay. She’s banged up and will need a lot of time to heal but we’re expecting a full recovery,” he said. Everyone let out a sigh of relief and the tension in the room eased. Bucky felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders, but in the back of his mind, he knew that he had his own journey ahead of him to make you trust him again.

“When can she have visitors?” Steve asked.

“I’d say let her rest for today and then tomorrow one or two of you can visit. Just ease her back into things,” Ryan told them. Everyone nodded and thanked him and the odd look he gave Bucky before leaving the room didn’t go unnoticed.

“See, Buck? You’ll have your chance to talk to her. I’d give it a few days just so she has some time to digest everything,” Steve said. Bucky gave him a sad nod and decided to go to his room. He needed time to think about what he’s going to have to do to fix this. 

He asked Friday to send him the footage from the quinjet. He wanted to know exactly what happened to you. He still held himself responsible for everything, blaming himself for you nearly dying. The video appeared on his computer almost instantly and he clicked play. He watched as the quinjet door opened and you stumbled on. Bullets were ricocheting off of the walls as you desperately waited for the door to close. He watched as your bloody form crawled towards the camera and control panel. You had just enough energy to hit the autopilot switch and hit the coordinates for the compound before you collapsed on the floor out of view from the camera. 

Bucky closed his laptop and couldn’t stop the tears from falling. All of his pent up emotions were finally breaking him down. Bucky cried until sleep finally overtook him. 

When you finally regained consciousness you were very aware of the pain coursing through your body. You let out a strangled groan and opened your eyes to see a team of doctors standing over you. Your eyes settled on Ryan and everything from the past few weeks came rushing back. 

They started to explain what happened and what injuries you had. It was going to be a long road back to health but it was possible. They let you rest after giving you more medicine. 

It wasn’t too long after the medical team left that Nat and Wanda entered your room. They knocked softly and made sure that you were awake before coming in. They told you how worried they had been and how happy they were to see that you were okay. They left after a little while when you started to doze off.

When you woke next it was Tony and Bruce that were standing by the door. Tony had flowers in his hand and it made you smile.

“They’re from Pepper and me. She insisted on nothing extravagant,” he told you.

“They’re perfect,” you croaked. You reached for the water on your bedside table but immediately recoiled when a sharp pain shot through your body. Bruce rushed to your side and held the water to your lips. You drank the entire glass and gasped for air when you were done.

The men left to meet with the doctors to go over your recovery plan but not before telling you that Sam would be down for a visit soon. You appreciated all of their concern but honestly, you didn’t want to deal with all of the drama yet. You ran off for a reason and now you were practically chained to your bed.

As promised, Sam wandered down to your room a few hours later. He brought your favorite candy and his laptop, offering you a movie night.

“That’s sweet, Sam, but I’m sure I wouldn’t even stay awake through half of it,” you sighed.

“That’s totally fine with me. I’ll just turn it off when you fall asleep,” he insisted. You knew he partially blamed himself for you running off but it was no one’s fault but your own. You needed space and the only way to get that was to leave.

You scooted over slowly but still let out a groan in pain. Sam told you not to move but you made room for him to sit beside you. You curled into his side as he hit play on the movie.

As you said you started to doze off about halfway through the film. Sam noticed and hit pause, waiting for you to fall deeper into sleep. He slowly crawled from your hospital bed and set up camp in the chair by your side. He couldn’t bear to leave your side.

He started to fall asleep but woke with a start when his phone buzzed.

Barnes: how’s she doing?

She’s fine, now leave her alone.

Barnes: you can’t keep me away from her. We need to talk at some point and she’ll agree

Let her come to you then. Until that point, you bet your metal ass that I’m going to protect her from you

Bucky never responded but Sam knew that he wasn’t going to give up easily. He just hoped he had sense enough to wait until you were healed to approach you.

Sam settled into the chair once again and fell asleep. He woke the next morning with a crick in his neck and a sore back. He watched as the nurses took your stats and gave you more medicine. Once they left you turned to him.

“You know you can’t stay here all the time,” you sighed.

“I know that. I just figured you’d want the company,” he said.

“You know I love having you around but I don’t want you to mess up your back by sleeping in that chair. I’m okay and I’ll be okay if you want to step out for a bit.”

“You’re too strong for your own good, kid,” he chuckled. His stomach growled and he considered stepping out to get food. The nurses assured him that you were fine and all of your surgical wounds were healing well. He told you that he’d be back later on and finally left in search of food.

It continued on like that for days, Sam hovering for a while and others filtering in and out. Everyone except for Bucky. You were somewhat relieved but also a bit hurt. Hadn’t he wanted to see that you were okay? Why did you even care anyway? He hurt you and you hadn’t moved past it yet.

Bucky wanted to go and see you but he knew he had to wait. He couldn’t put more stress on you right now. He watched as the others went to visit you. He could tell when you were having a good day by the way Sam smiled upon his return or when you were having a particularly rough day when it was Wanda that would come back and seem distraught. Steve had gone to visit you a few times but he knew that you didn’t want to be crowded by them. Bucky talked Steve’s ear off every time he came back from visiting you. 

He asked how you were healing. Fine. How you seemed emotionally. It varies but not bad overall. If you were eating enough. She’s always had a good appetite. What medications they had you on. Hell if he knew. That was Tony and Bruce’s arena. And if you had asked about him. No. Sorry, pal. Are you surprised though? No, he wasn’t surprised but it still hurt each time he asked and received the same answer. He just had to bide his time and wait until you were healed before approaching you. At least it gave him time to think about what to say. 

Part of him just wanted to fall on his knees before you and beg for forgiveness (and part of you wanted to see that), but he knew he had to do it right. He needed to find the right words to convey his feelings- the good, the bad, and the ugly. He needed to bare it all before you and hope that you’d listen and understand him. 

After about a week and a half, you were cleared to return to your living quarters which had apparently been upgraded by Tony’s command. You now had your own separate wing. A recovery plan was put into place and you convinced them that you didn’t need a live-in nurse but agreed to have visiting ones from time to time. Members of the team were always going to be around to help you anyway and that you were sure of. 

Tony wanted to throw a party in honor of your recovery but you convinced him that a lowkey dinner with the team was more than enough. You would have preferred that everyone forgot it ever happened but you knew that was unlikely. So after another week, you found yourself in your room with Nat who was helping you get dressed for dinner. 

Your wounds weren’t completely healed but you had better range of motion and could manage to do more on your own. Nat still insisted on coming over early and helping you get ready. 

“If you start to feel tired or sick or sore, just let us know and we’ll just bring you right back here. You don’t even have to go if you don’t want to, we all understand,” she said. 

“I want to go. I’m feeling much better and I promise if I don’t want to be there for any reason then I’ll leave. I can handle this,” you chuckled. 

“I know.” She looked to the ground and sighed. “You just really scared us and we’re all still really worried. It made us realize that we’re not invincible and any day can be our last so we’re not going to take anything for granted. We love you.” 

“And I love you guys. I’m grateful for everything you’ve all done but I’d like for us to get back to regularly scheduled programming,” you told her. She gave you a soft smile and nodded. You made your way to the dining room where everyone was waiting. You were nervous to see everyone all at once but you were more nervous to see Bucky. You weren’t sure if he was going to be there and you didn’t have the courage to ask. 

Nat entered the room before you and took her seat next to Steve. You saw that there was an empty seat next to Sam and Bruce so you took that one. Bucky wasn’t there but there was another plate setting next to Steve so you figured that he was running late. Or maybe he chickened out. 

Everyone was chatting with each other and you started to relax. Dinner was eventually served- all of your favorites you noticed- but your stomach dropped when you saw Bucky sneaking in behind the servers. He took the seat next to his friend and kept his eyes trained on the food. Only after a few minutes did he dare to look at you. Your eyes hadn’t left his face since he walked in but when he caught you staring you quickly looked down. 

He studied your face as you had done with him. You noticed that he looked tired and worn out. His beard had grown out more and his skin was pallid, almost sickly looking. Part of you was happy to see him looking so stressed and possibly even guilty, but another part, deeper down, worried for him. 

He noticed how your eyes immediately dropped to your plate when his eye caught yours. You had been staring. His heartbeat sped up and his palms began to sweat. What could you possibly be thinking? Why did he show up in the first place? You probably didn’t want to see him and now you’ve lost your appetite. But maybe there was some small part of you that was happy to see him. In any case, you were both in the same room for the first time in over a month. 

You looked a little tired but that was understandable. You picked slowly at your food and seemed more reserved now that he had joined. He wanted to say something but nothing seemed right so he settled for enjoying the company around him and seeing you alive and well in front of him. 

Once dinner was finished everyone moved out to the patio to take in the night air. You agreed to sit with them for a while longer and you had to admit that you were having a nice time. You didn’t realize how much you missed all of them in the time that you were gone. Bucky lingered in the corner of your eye at all times but he never approached you. Sam was at your side and you wondered if that’s why he wasn’t coming over. Not that you wanted him to... or did you? 

After a while, you began to feel more tired and Nat noticed. She offered to take you back to your room but you politely declined. You said goodnight to everyone and headed back to your wing. It wasn’t until you were to the elevator that you noticed someone following you. You turned to see Bucky standing a few feet back from you. 

“Uh... hey,” he mumbled. 

“Hi?” 

“How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“Tired but I’m fine,” you said. He nodded and awkwardly followed you onto the elevator. He pressed the buttons for your floor and his which were now separate. 

“I think we need to talk,” he sighed. 

“We do, but I don’t think now is a good time.” He hit the emergency stop button and the elevator came to a halt. 

“I think now is a perfect time.” 

--------------------------------------------

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[ericsonclan]

Pinterest Perfect

Summary: An overheard conversation leads Prisha to wonder what she'd want her own wedding to look like someday.

Read on AO3: 

Sophie and Marlon were eating lunch together in the break room when Prisha came in, planning to grab her coat before heading out for the day. As she passed by the table, she overheard some of the conversation they were having.

“Absolutely no meatballs at our wedding,” Marlon declared, taking another bite of his meatloaf.

“Really? I would have had you pegged as a meatball sub sorta dude,” Sophie replied, chewing on a carrot stick.

“Had a bad experience as a kid. Scarred me for life,” Marlon shivered before returning to his food.

“Well, we both know my number one rule…”

“No clowns,” the couple said in unison, fist bumping with a smile.

Prisha watched the conversation with amusement. She’d heard of this game the two of them liked to play: listing things they should and should not have at their wedding. It was some sort of ongoing joke between the couple, to continue casually planning their wedding even as they weren’t engaged or anywhere near that sort of thing. “Tell me, Sophie,” Prisha began, putting on her coat. “Do you think it ever could have been a real possibility that Marlon would arrange for clowns to come to your wedding?”

“Can never be too careful,” Sophie waggled the end of her carrot stick before popping it into her mouth. “Clowns show up when you least expect them. They’re sneaky that way,”

Prisha chuckled at her friend’s logic. “Well, you two have a good lunch. I’ll see you tomorrow,”

“Bye, Prisha!” the couple called in unison before returning to their mock wedding plans.

Prisha smiled to herself as she headed out to her car. Planning out their wedding so causally with no actual arrangements in place. Those two really make quite the pair.

---

Once she was home, Prisha found herself lost as to what she would do with the rest of her day. It had been an unexpected half-day at work, the builders coming in early to begin work on improvements to the bar. Perhaps she would finally get around to clearing out her inbox. Sitting on her couch, Prisha opened her laptop and began the monotonous but rewarding process. A few minutes into the process, she accidentally clicked a Pinterest notification that popped up rather than the email she’d intended and was whisked off in a separate tab for the website. Prisha glanced with mild interest at her feed. She hadn’t used Pinterest in a while, mostly referencing it for inspiration when decorating her apartment as well as providing the occasional healthy recipe.

It was so easy to get sucked in again with all the aesthetic, perfectly framed images. One in particular caught Prisha’s eye: a girl in a white sundress standing in a field of sunflowers. The girl’s short blonde hair reminded her of Violet’s. As Prisha gazed at the picture, a thought wandered into her mind. That sort of looks like a wedding dress. As soon as the thought coalesced, Prisha felt her cheeks heating up in embarrassment. Immediately she closed her computer, standing up to get the tea she’d been considering. Beginning the electric kettle, she tried to think of other things to distract herself, but her thoughts simply kept returning to Sophie and Marlon and that lighthearted wedding conversation they’d been planning. They made the whole discussion look so easy, so natural.

Prisha poured the hot water over her packet of Earl Grey, warily eyeing her laptop as it lay upon the couch. There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming, is there? Hesitantly, Prisha returned to her computer, opening it back up. The screen immediately displayed Pinterest again. As she clicked on the search bar, a menu of suggested searches popped down with several categories. Desserts, sunsets, DIY furniture… weddings. This site is reading my mind. Prisha gulped heavily before clicking on the Weddings option. What sort of rabbit hole had she let herself wander into?

There were endless ideas for weddings on Pinterest: color schemes, flower arrangements, wedding gowns, cakes, there seemed to be an infinitesimal number of things to take into consideration when planning a wedding. Scrolling through the feed, Prisha found her eyes drawn to the wedding dresses first. There were so many options, so many different styles. Long, short, fitted, flowy, the fashion choices seemed infinite. Prisha gazed at a fitted mermaid, lace dress for several seconds, entranced by it. Could I pull something like that off? The woman in the photo appeared to have a similar body type. What would Violet think?

Violet always seemed to like whatever Prisha was wearing. There hadn’t been a single time where she’d said anything against a single one of Prisha’s outfits. Truth be told, she probably didn’t think about fashion very much, but her eyes did light up a certain way when she noticed Prisha was wearing one of her favorites: the cranberry red cocktail dress, that one pair of jeans that always did wonders for Prisha’s butt, her warm grey cardigan that was extra snuggly on cold nights. Whatever Prisha chose, she wanted it to make Violet’s eyes sparkle in that way.

I don’t know why I’m talking as though this is an inevitability, Prisha scolded herself. Marriage wasn’t even something that either of them had put on the table. But rather than continuing to scold herself on the likelihood of this even happening, Prisha found her mind back on the wedding dress train. Would they both wear dresses? She’d never seen Violet in a suit before. The girl didn’t own anything fancier than a jean jacket. Prisha found herself liking the idea of them both wearing dresses more and more though. Perhaps in different styles so they’d both stand out. Violet could wear something comfortable, maybe one of those cute shorter dresses with the pockets. They didn’t have to both be in white either. Prisha wondered how a cream dress would look against her own skin. There was a particularly lovely gray dress that she quite fancied too…

Amongst all the wedding dresses there were a myriad of other wedding ideas too. Prisha found the outdoor weddings to be the loveliest. It would be beautiful to be married under the trees with the natural light breaking through the branches and scattering upon us. Then at night we could dance under the stars. There were several photos of trees covered in twinkle and curtain lights. Such a simple touch truly brought magic with it. After coming across a particularly lovely photo of just such an arrangement, Prisha finally bit the bullet and made a secret board for herself so she could keep track of her favorite photos. Scrolling back up a ways, she collected several other pins that had caught her eye before returning to the point where she had been.

There were so many elaborate weddings, ones that looked as though they would be massively expensive. I believe we’d both want to keep things simple, Prisha thought to herself. A small ceremony with only our closest friends. Things like the cake and the bouquet could be kept simple as well. A white cake, classic, with some flowers curling round its tiers. Violets would be too on the nose and probably just irk Violet. Prisha didn’t see any cakes with them, but she wondered to herself if it would be possible to decorate a cake with morning glories. After all, Violet was her Morning Glory, it would be lovely to have that special name be celebrated at their wedding.

I’m smiling like a fool, aren’t I? Prisha thought, feeling the expression tug at the corner of her lips. No matter. It wasn’t as though there were anybody about to see her giddiness. Should we both have bouquets or just one of us? Would we walk up the aisle together? One at a time? Prisha supposed with all these things it would come down to what worked best for them. She’d never really considered being walked down the aisle, but Prisha supposed that if her father weren’t there to walk her down the aisle as would likely be the case, she’d rather do it on her own or not at all. Violet on the other hand… Would Louis walk her down the aisle? Prisha chuckled aloud at the thought. She knew Louis would be absolutely ecstatic about that idea. He’d probably fight off anyone else who tried to take the role, though Prisha didn’t think Mitch or Marlon would put up much of a fight.

Ringbearers, flower girls… Willy could be the ring bearer. Prisha was quite fond of the boy. Then again Violet was very much attached to Tenn. Why not both? Then A.J. as the flower boy. Probably not, Prisha thought with a smile imagining the chaos that would ensue with those three together. But it’s certainly an entertaining thought. Bridesmaids and brides.. men? Why not both? That seems to be the theme of this whole ceremony, Prisha thought wryly. Clementine and Louis were most likely to take the positions of honor among the wedding party, making the toasts and planning the bachelorette parties.

Ruby and Omar would likely take on the catering for the wedding while Renata handled the cake. Prisha was sure come hell or high water, Ruby would get involved in other aspects of the wedding as well: dress shopping, flower arrangements, wedding decorations. Considering how excited Ruby got during themed nights at Ericson’s Diner, that excitement was sure to rise tenfold for a wedding. Thinking of their friends and coworkers getting involved in wedding prep filled Prisha with a warm, fuzzy feeling. Prisha could just imagine all of them coming together and helping make this dream a reality. Perhaps I should look at rings next.

The sound of the front door unlocking had Prisha jumping off the couch in fright. Violet stood in the doorway, a to-go bag in one hand and the key to Prisha’s apartment in the other. She looked apologetically at her girlfriend. “Shit, did I scare you? Louis asked to switch shifts with me so I got off early. Picked up some food on the way here. Figured we could make a night of it, have an early dinner, but if you’re busy-”

“Not at all,” Prisha declared, closing the tab and slamming her laptop shut. She threw it off to the side where it landed upon a beige pouf she kept off in the corner. “What sort of food did you bring?”

“Thai. Figured we’d switch things up,” Violet closed the door behind her and walked over into the kitchen, beginning to take out the various boxes of food she’d carried within the bag. Prisha came over to help her. Violet glanced up and a shy smile crossed her face before she looked away.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” Violet paused. “You’re wearing the earrings I got you,”

Prisha’s hand came up instinctively, brushing against one of the earrings. It had been a six-month anniversary present: a gold pair of earrings, a moon and a star. Prisha knew they were far nicer than anything Violet owned herself. “I love them. They match with everything too,”

Violet nodded. “I thought they would,” She glanced over at the television. “So… Cutthroat Kitchen tonight?”

“Sounds perfect,” They’d soon found the show to be the perfect combination of strategy and chaos to keep both of them entertained. After grabbing their food, both girls settled down on the couch, ready for a night of relaxation. Raising her legs up, Violet put them across Prisha’s lap without another thought. Prisha smiled. Violet had been so nervous about physical touch when they first started dating. It was nice to see how far they’d come together.

Running her hand absentmindedly along her girlfriend’s leg, Prisha glanced over at her abandoned laptop. The board she’d made for herself seemed like a faraway dream now. But being here with Violet, Prisha knew it wasn’t simply a fantasy for her. It was something she wanted, not quite yet, but someday. And every day with Violet made that someday feel closer and closer. With that thought in mind, Prisha grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.

[monabela]

aaaand one more for eeweek, because the more I think about this pairing, the more I think it’s really cute & good! don’t let that whole bunch of characters scare you, they’re all just mentioned, and this is just a fun little thought process I had.

rules of engagement

characters/pairings: Estonia (Eduard)/Monaco (Olympe), and a bunch of mentioned characters - Hungary (Erzsébet), Romania (Dragos), Finland (Tuomi), France (Francis), Switzerland (Basch), Seychelles (Angélique), Lithuania (Tolys), Belarus (Nadzeya), Russia (Ivan), Romano (Lovino), Portugal (Simão), Greece (Herakles)

word count: 2277 summary: Eduard was prepared for many things while organizing his wedding to Olympe. He had not counted on seating arrangements being the most difficult part.

Really, Eduard had been prepared for many things when he proposed to Olympe. Up to and including a rejection, because you never know, with her. Olympe always seems to have a plan ready, and it wasn’t unthinkable that marriage just wasn’t in that plan, or wasn’t yet. He took the chance anyway, and she said yes, which is amazing.

So, he was prepared to have a stressful time organizing the wedding, because both he and Olympe are perfectionists, and Olympe’s family is… Something. Old money that they are, he expected a million traditions he’d need to adhere to, expected to need to learn how to actually dance a waltz instead of just hoping not to step on any feet during their first dance, expected meddling from all sides.

What he had not prepared for, was seating arrangements. Because he has a small family, and most of their gatherings are informal, even the weddings, and he also didn’t think the friends he wanted to invite would cause trouble.

Apparently, he thought wrong.

“We absolutely cannot seat them near each other,” Olympe is saying, tiredly, sliding the name cards for his sister and her umpteenth distant cousin to opposite ends of the table. “They shouldn’t even be in each other’s sight if we can help it. They have this feud.”

“Why don’t I know about this?” Eduard asks, scrunching his nose enough that he dislodges his glasses. He takes them off to rub the bridge of his nose.

“Because Erzsébet possesses some semblance of common sense, which my terrible cousin unfortunately lacks, so he’s very proud of having an enemy.” She gently picks up his glasses and pushes them back on his face. “I need your brain for this, love.”

“How about we just don’t invite this—” he looks at the card— “Dragos?”

“Oh, no. I’d love to, but I’m not convinced he won’t show up and curse my firstborn.”

“That’s…” He blinks. It never ceases to amaze him how odd her mother’s side of the family is. Olympe quirks a small smile, lips glittering in the sunlight streaming into their kitchen, the table of which they’ve temporarily transformed into a seating chart.

Or, well, temporarily. It has been there for two days now, being shuffled occasionally between work and the other things they have to take care of.

“Don’t worry about him,” Olympe is saying. “He’s alright, just… A little strange.”

“You said that about your brother as well.”

“So did you, about yours, and he asked me if I wanted to see his rifle collection the first time we met. Which reminds me…” She hovers an elegant hand over the table until she spots the card she’s looking for. “If we put Tuomi near Basch, we will have a shootout on our hands by the end of dinner.”

Eduard frowns. “Who even is—”

“He’s not related to me, strictly speaking, that’s my stepfather’s side of the family, but he loves weddings, so he’ll be there.” She considers this, tapping the name card against her chin. “He loves free food, and Francis loves weddings, so he told him about it. There hasn’t been one for a while.”

With that big of an extended family, that seems unlikely, but then, Eduard wouldn’t know the first thing about that. It’s always just been him and his siblings at home, and any cousins he has are so far removed, either in relation or age, that he barely knows them.

“Well, there was Angélique,” she continues in an absent tone of voice, “but she, of course, eloped.”

“Can’t we do that?” he asks, only mostly joking, and she smiles up at him, eyebrows furrowing. On the table, she puts one of her small hand over one of his, tucking her fingers between his knuckles. Her engagement ring catches the light and glitters at him. Eduard hadn’t planned on getting her one—it’s, again, not something his family has ever done—but her half-brother Francis caught wind of his plan to propose somehow, and strong-armed him into using a family heirloom to do so.

Olympe immediately recognized her brother’s hand in it, of course, but she’d been charmed by it, even if she did have to have the beautiful ring sized down to have it fit on her dainty fingers. Every time Eduard catches sight of it, his heart skips a beat. He can’t even imagine what it will be like when she is wearing a wedding ring. He foresees a lot of flubbed keystrokes whenever they play the piano quatre-mains. Olympe probably won’t have that problem. She is always more composed than he is.

“Well, no eloping then,” he sighs, and she laughs softly, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear and tapping the side of her glasses in thought.

“I still don’t have an RSVP from Angélique, actually. They’re still traveling, trying to save an endangered shark species or whatnot. I do hope she comes. She’s a delight to have around.”

Having met Angélique, the cousin in question, once, Eduard thinks he might agree. She seemed nice and upbeat. This was a bit of a problem, since they did meet at a funeral, but it would be appreciated at a wedding.

“Oh, wait, there’s another problem,” he remembers.

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah. Tolys is afraid of Nadzeya.”

Now, it’s her turn to blink owlishly up at him.

“Tolys is— Your best friend is afraid of my maid of honor?” She taps her fingers on the back of his hand. “Well, I suppose she can be intimidating when you first meet her, but…”

“He tried to ask her out. Twice. She said no.”

“Well, surely that isn’t so bad—”

“He also said she had a knife?”

“Oh. Oh, Nadzeya, no…” Olympe clasps a hand over her mouth, expression caught between amused and horrified. “She does have… A fondness.”

“Keep both Tolys and Tuomi away from her, then. Erzsébet should love her.”

“Good. They can still be at the same table, then, so long as we don’t put Nadz across from Tolys…” She begins shuffling the name cards around, leaving only their parents in the same place. “How is this?”

“Yes, that… Hold on, no. Your brother’s husband can’t be next to Tuomi.” He shudders. His brother had tried to fight Ivan Braginsky-Bonnefoy the first and only time they met. Eduard has never asked why and has no intention of ever doing so, certain that he is better off left in the dark about this.

Quickly, he switches Tuomi’s card with his mother’s. It’s the best option, he thinks, even if it does mean Tuomi is now between their sets of parents. Maybe they can keep an eye on him. Olympe hums, then moves him again, switching her mother out this time.

“There we go. Unless he’s tried to fight your sister too.”

Eduard laughs. “Tried, and succeeded, but it’ll be okay.”

Although Tuomi is now very close to Nadzeya, only Erzsébet separating them, he thinks that’s a risk he’s willing to take. Erzsébet can talk a lot. Finally, it’s beginning to look acceptable…

“No! Fuck, Olympe, we forgot ourselves!”

She throws her hands up helplessly. “Give me strength. Do you want to be next to your parents or not?” She scribbles their names on extra pieces of paper, writing Eduard Mets-Castil on his and Olympe Castil-Mets on her own. It makes Eduard smile. She isn’t the sort of woman who is very affectionate most of the time, or very obvious about her feelings in other ways—nor is he that sort of man—but it’s little things like this that make it clear every time how much this means to her.

How much he means to her.

Shuffling the cards until they finally make sense, she smiles down at their completed work. Well, completed table. The only table that makes sense.

“The rest of this is literally all your family.” Eduard squints at several names he has never heard before.

“I know,” Olympe says, long-suffering.

“Don’t tell me there’s more feuds.”

“Well, Lovino doesn’t like Francis, but that is already taken care of this way, so he should be happy… I don’t think anyone actually likes Dragos, not since they all had that fight about how he doesn’t like garlic—oh, I just remembered, he and Nadzeya tried to summon a demon at my birthday once, so we mustn’t have any candles.”

“I think I see why no one likes him.”

“Right, and then Simão mustn’t be near Angélique, should she come, because he saw fit to marry her foster father…”

“Excuse me?”

“They are close in age, should it help, but it has made everything rather awkward.”

“Is that why she eloped?” he asks faintly.

Biting her lip, Olympe shrugs at him in that measured way that she has.

“Right, of course. Simão and his husband can go with Dragos.”

“Oh, no, they actually aren’t married anymore.” She shakes her head when he pulls a face at her, a hint of amusement peeking through in the twitching corner of her lips. “It didn’t help the awkwardness. But Simão can certainly sit with Dragos, that will be fine.”

Eduard shuffles the cards, trying to keep that table out of his sister’s line of sight. It’s a good thing he likes puzzles. Next to him, Olympe sighs, ruffling the cards already in position.

“I’m sorry my family is such a burden. I hardly know many of them, but if I don’t invite them…”

“They’ll curse us and our hypothetical children?”

She shrugs again, uncharacteristically, and Eduard turns to her in his chair, reaching for her hands. He folds them both between his own, the ring on her finger warm against his palm. Olympe looks up at him, dark blue eyes still apologetic behind her gold-rimmed glasses. There is a small smudge of mascara on her eyelid. She wouldn’t go out with that, perfectionist that she is, and he is somehow honored that he can look at it.

For a quiet moment, he searches for the right words for what he wants to say. Olympe waits patiently, steadily holding his gaze like she’s so good at. He used to find it unnerving.

“You know why I want to marry you?” he asks, after a long moment.

“Certainly not because of my family.”

“Well, I do like Herakles. He’s very nice, and smart.”

“Not the other side of the family, then.” She draws her eyebrows together, smiling ruefully.

“No, of course. I want to marry you because I think… You understand me.” He strokes his fingers over the outside of her slender wrist, where her skin is slightly paler because she’s usually wearing her watch, busy as she is. “Because, somehow, we managed to find a reason not to work ourselves to exhaustion every day in each other, and that is a tall order. We both know that.”

She laughs a little, shaking her head so that her long hair tumbles over her shoulders. That is another one of these things that Eduard is aware she rarely shows to anyone else. Her hair out of its usual stylish but practical braids and updos. He lets go of her hands to lean forward, resting one hand on her thigh and using the other to touch her jaw softly, pushing her hair away.

“And, you know, maybe I’m a romantic deep down,” he continues, “so I want to make that official.”

“Eduard, I know you’re a romantic. You’ve composed no less than five songs for me.”

He grins, and she smiles in return. He is still working on the piece for their opening dance—it has to be perfect. More than perfect.

“What I’m saying is, I want to marry you for you, and you’re worth putting up with your cousins… Summoning a demon, or having a shootout with my brother, or whatever they come up with. All that matters is I walk out of there able to call you my wife, and they can’t ruin that.”

“I don’t know how you do this, sometimes,” Olympe says, wonderingly, briefly touching the hand lingering on her jaw.

“What?”

She puts her hand on top of his on her thigh, long nails tapping a brief rhythm on his wrist.

“Know what to say to me.”

“Practice,” he replies. “I’m sure you remember how often I put my foot in my mouth when we’d just met. I was very intimidated by you. Tuomi will bring it up at the wedding.”

At that, she laughs a light, happy laugh, then leans up and gently presses her glossy lips to the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, then, for sticking with me. I know it isn’t my strongest suit to say things… Things like this, at least, but for what it’s worth, of course I feel the same.” Now, she puts a hand on his chest briefly, a small warm point mirroring the sunlight on his back. There are flecks of gold in her eyes in this light, and Eduard thinks about how those colors might sound on a piano.

“That’s worth a lot, Olympe.”

Because she’s a woman of action first and foremost—and sometimes that action is diplomatic speech, but there is a world of difference between that and this—so he knows she sometimes forgets to say things.

“Good.” She swipes some hair away from his forehead, tutting. He laughs, captures her hand, and kisses the inside of her wrist before letting go.

Olympe nods, and they both turn back to the table, because if there is anything they’re good at, it’s getting work done, and they have a hell of a task to finish.