#I dunno it holds a certain amount of weight

[venusxstars]

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐄 ⸻ nsfw.

nagi seishiro x fem!reader

nagi just thinks that you feel so good. nothing else other than that matters.

keynotes ⸻ reader with implied sagging breasts. implied body insecurities. breast fondling / sucking. fingering. penetration.

venus’ note ⸻ boobs of all different shapes and sizes are beautiful. no one can fight me on this one.

YOUR BREATH COMES OUT SHARP and ragged as you feel Nagi’s soft lips connect lazily against your neck, tongue running in small and slow circles on the skin before he gently nips on it. Your place on his lap was a constant thing, after all, Nagi wasn’t one to put effort into hovering himself on top of you whilst going through the trouble of balancing himself with his two elbows. He voiced out his concerns repeatedly the last time you both tried before settling back to your usual positions—you sitting snug on his lap as he sits comfortably on the couch with his broad back leaning against the soft rest.

You squeal as he suddenly lifts up your shirt and you instinctively move back, pulling your shirt back down. It was an irrational concern, truly, to hold such insecurities over breasts that functioned normally. But you didn’t like the way the weighed down above your abdomen whenever you’d sit down nor could you seem to get used to the image of them without your bra lifting them up more ‘attractively’.

See, lookism has become more prevalent along the recent years with the constant increase of the usage of social media that wordlessly promoted unattainable beauty standards. Everyone had their own certain charm to themselves, but with every comment thoughtlessly uttered, apparently certain groups of people had a surplus amount of it. And that only fed onto the irrational thoughts on your mind.

“What’s the matter?” Your boyfriend furrows his brows in genuine confusion. His hand moved down to clutch onto the edge of your shirt, frowning a little at the way you pulled them down.

You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, looking away. “Can I keep my shirt on?”

He tilts his head, dark and round eyes gazing into yours quizzically. He speaks bluntly. “Why? … I mean, it’s your choice, but I wanna touch ‘em.”

You chuckle at the way the words roll out of his mouth with a certain lack of care and genuine confusion, and perhaps, that nearly enough to convince you out of your irrational thoughts completely. You cup his large hand that was still holding onto the shirt you were wearing before explaining softly. “It’s a weird reason, but I just don’t like the way they look.”

He nods in agreement at your first statement, looking down at your clothed breasts shamelessly, muttering. “It is a weird reason. Dunno, but they look fine to me. Besides… don’t really care, just wanna touch ‘em…”

He dips his head down onto the crook of your neck once again, breathing in your natural scent before kissing your skin lazily again. He mumbles quietly against your neck, slowly snaking his large hands up to grope your clothed breasts. He squeezes them gently before running his thumbs down onto your nipples that were poking against the shirt.

You breathe out shakily, holding onto his bare shoulders as he plays with your tits mindlessly. You see the way he subtly pulls back a little, head dipped down to stare intently at the way his own large hands were fondling with your soft breasts—the weight on his palm nearly satisfying him, along with the way the fabric of your shirt forms creases every time he squeezed.

“Come on… let me see ‘em, please…” His hands move a bit more roughly and you gasp at the movements. “S'not enough…”

This time, you don’t stop him when he lifts his shirt up completely above your head and throws it onto the floor. You don’t know what he’s thinking as he stares down at your tits wordlessly for a few seconds, dark eyes pinned on it without moving away for a single second. Finally, he snaps out of his stupor with a soft whine when you smack the back of his head lightly.

“Seishiro…” You begin to grumble. “What are you—”

You gasp when he suddenly dips his head down, lifting your breasts up a little with his hands, before sucking on the tips of your puffy nipples. You shudder, unconsciously tightening your legs around his waist as you pull yourself closer to him.

He groans quietly against your breast, looking up at your contorted expressions. “Looks fine to me, baby… so pretty, even. Feels good in my hands and mouth… Wonder how good my cock would feel between your tits…”

He presses his lips all over the surface of your chest—soft moans tumbling out of his own lips as if his own ministrations were pleasurable for himself—alternating between each of your breast. He sucks on the skin, leaving soft red marks in its wake, and soon, your breasts is painted with a harmony of colors like a simple abstract painting of the picturesque lust.

Your bodies are both hot, and you can feel the wetness seeping out of your pussy through your thin panties, leaving a patch on your boyfriend’s gray sweatpants. He pauses his ministrations to dip his hand down against your heat, cupping your clothed pussy completely.

“Ah, fuck… it’s so wet, baby” He mumbles, cheeks and ears dusted a light shade of rosy red. “Got some on my pants. Let’s take ‘em off…”

You lift your hips up as he pulls your underwear down and throwing them onto the floor before making a move to take off his own sweatpants. Soon, you’re both bare for each other to see and admire. You rub the side of your arm a bit shyly at the exposure especially with the bright fluorescent lights of the living room glaring down over your figures. It shows every single part of yourselves—every crevice and color marking your skin.

Nagi slowly reaches up to touch the back of your neck and push you forward to capture his lips with yours. It’s soft and gentle, just like how kisses between the two of you were always shared—exploring every part of each other through tongues slowly slipping in.

You pull away breathlessly. “Want more, Sei…”

“Me too…” He mumbles, immediately moving his fingers down against your pussy again. He rubs slow circles with his middle and ring finger around your wet clit, keeping his eyes trained on your face to watch your expression contort, presenting varying feelings of the pleasure he was providing you. He feels the wetness on the pads of his fingers, pressing them a little more against the area before slowly easing a finger in. His cock hardens, pressing against his lower abdomen as he hears your drawn-out moan dragging out of your parted lips.

“Got me so hard with those sounds, baby… let me hear some more…” He groans out softly, pumping his middle finger inside your pussy, searching for your g-spot. He moves in a little deeper, touching the bundle of nerves inside of you and rubbing it a little with the pad of his finger. He watches you jolt on top of him before deciding to do the same movement twice. Next, he pulls his finger back slowly, experimentally bumping the pad of his finger against the spot.

You were in cloud nine at his seemingly mindless and entertained movements, feeling every part of his finger with your walls clamping down on it tightly. Warmth spreads around under your belly and you can feel it building up with each passing second. You whine when he pulls his finger out again, watching him pump his cock slowly with his head thrown back against the back rest of the couch.

“W-Wait just a second, baby…” He gasps a little, pumping his cock that was oozing with pre-cum. It drips down on the length of his cock and he sighs before aligning the tip against your entrance. “Hurts so much— wanna be inside you so bad…”

He pushes his cock in and you both simultaneously let out a moan. It was thick inside of you and you can feel every single crevice and vein with your gummy walls clamping down on it as he slowly helps you ease down on his cock. His long fingers were digging down against your hips, pulling you down breathlessly until he’s completely sheathed inside of you.

You both take a short pause as you accommodate his length inside of you.

“You okay?” He asks a little breathlessly, chest rising and falling deeply. You can see him grind his teeth a little.

You nod after a while before slowly lifting your hips up again and dropping it with the same pace down on his cock. You furrow your brows, biting your lip at the pleasure that seemed to swarm throughout your lower body.

“H-Help…” You request as your thighs burned slightly at the continuous movements you were making. Obediently, he places his hands onto your ass, helping you lift and drop your hips against his.

“F-Fuck, s’good, baby…” He moans, watching the way you repeatedly bouncing on his dick. He lifts his gaze up and groans this time at the way your tits bounced along with the movements of your whole body. He moves his head forward, burying his face between the valley of your breasts, loving how the warmth engulfed his skin comfortingly. “Love your tits so much…”

He lifts and drops your hips a little faster, digging his fingers down on your ass more that it seemed to be leaving marks behind. His clouded mind and pleasure-filled body taking control of the pace each time he feels your soft yet tight walls squeeze and pulse around him deliciously.

“S-Sei!” You gasp, bouncing on his cock harder and following along with his wordless command.

“H-Huh? F-Fuck… yes, baby?” He bites his bottom lip hard, leaving it swollen and pink before he starts babbling between your bouncing chest. “Love having you fuck yourself on my dick like this… Wanna see you cum around my— c-cock, shiiit…”

He throws his head back, forcibly picking up the pace as he lifts and drops your hips on his cock before he then begins to meet your movements by thrusting his own hips up. The sound of skin-slapping fills the area along with the breathy moans leaving both of your lips.

“S’too fast, S-Sei— a-ah!” You gasp, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back.

“Looks so f-fucked out, baby—” He groans out, thrusting his hips up faster and deeper inside of you as you meet his hips—the impact leaving your clit hard and aching as it slaps against his skin, sending waves of sharp delicious heat up and around your core.

“G-Gonna… gonna cum!” You moan, digging your nails against his shoulder as you suddenly twitch, pussy pulsing and walls clamping down hard around his cock. Your mind blanks when you reach your climax and you shudder as your boyfriend continues to move.

“S-Shit, got so tight… W-Wanna cum too—“ He buries his cock deep one last time before it twitches, then pulling out to shoot his milky white cum on your breasts. “H-Haah—”

You both pant loudly at the exertion then you drop your head down against his shoulder, laying against him limply and tiredly. You can hear his heart beat even with your ears up from where you were and you were certain that he could hear yours too.

“Thanks, Sei” You blurt out quietly.

“For what?” His words come out a little breathlessly.

“For everything”

You can feel him tilt his head and you chuckle when you hear him utter his response cluelessly.

“Don’t really know why you’re thanking me, but… no problem, I guess…”

[endreal]

Now that I've gotten that out of my system, I've been trying for weeks to sit with this and understand it but at the end of the day I just continue to be completely mystified by anti-wool vegans. I can at least appreciate the logic of "plant matter only" arguments although I've never personally met someone who didn't knowingly maintain some amount of acrylic/polyester/elastane/etc in their wardrobe. I'm not going to knock the premise of an argument for a proponent's inability to effectively implement it. But recently I've had folks tell me in different instances that veganism isn't about just not consuming or using animal products but is a philosophy to "reduce suffering" or "live in greater harmony with the natural world" (paraphrased) and, to me, that's something wool absolutely represents? Cos like, unless you're sloppy with your cutters it doesn't harm the sheep to be sheared. And the fleece grows back so it's theoretically sustainable for the majority of the lifespan of the contributing animal (or husbanded species, if you look at a macro perspective) rather. And as I understand it many of the species commonly found today have been selectively bred over time to increase fleece yield to the point where if they are not sheared it can be dangerous to their wellbeing or even damage their health from the weight of it, so to leave them unshorn actually creates additional suffering. But to shear and discard (which is certainly an option) seems like it doesn't honor the natural harmony argument. And I've had someone express that sheep shouldn't be kept as livestock! Which makes sense on a certain level from a vegan perspective because the relation ship between human animal husbandry and environmental impact is complex and nuanced, and a reasonable approach to environmental risk mitigation is to simply avoid engaging in behaviors that carry risk of negative environmental impact on the first place. But that's unrealistic in the sense that sheep and other animals have already been domesticated and kept by humans for centuries or millennia in most cases, so rewilding currently domesticated species seems to me like it'd carry extreme risks to the animals themselves (whose instinct sets have been altered over successive generations), to the local environments (many husbandry practitioners keep animals that are not native to the local areas. Montana didn't have cattle before Europeans introduced them, for instance) and, again, seems to run counter to the premise of reducing suffering. One suggestion I've heard is to try and "revert" domesticated animals to a more ancestral state so they can survive without human intervention but I don't know how plausible or implausible that is, and also seems as if it's only show success over a generational timeframe, right? Which leaves the animals that are currently under domestic husbandry in a really difficult position. "Well humans never should have in the first place" is a fair belief to hold, but it seems like it's a fully hypothetical one - what was done literally civilizations ago in many cases can't be magically proofed away, and progress toward a reduced-suffering, environmentally harmonious future has to start with addressing the problems as they exist today, not as they existed 40 (hedgehogs) to approximately 10000 (goats) years ago right? I have trouble understanding how we might even go about a de-domestication process in ways that aren't actively hostile toward the animals intended to be helped. But I will absolutely admit I've not done any research into de-domestication so there could absolutely be some stuff going on that I've just never had exposure to.

And I dunno. I think that generally speaking I align to vegan principles like reducing environmental impact, sustainable ecosystem maintenance, and a radical transformation of agriculture away from today's dominant for-profit monoculture agribusiness model into...well, just about anything less terrible. But there are a couple of matters that I just can't wrap my head around I guess

[firebirdsdaughter]

Ya know…

… Now that I’m rewatching Leverage (the original, not the new one, I can’t watch the new one)…

I set Leverage apart from most of my Found Family Crime Etc. shows bc it’s much more… Heavily team-focused. While the others may feature a team, what I consider the officially ‘family’/the ‘main focus’ is usually at most three people. Leverage balances between five quite well and keeps up strong family ties and unique relationships between all of them that I don’t feel like it fits in the same class as the others, it’s got so much variety.

But more to the point, the relationship I find myself being particularly fascinated by on this go through is actually Nate and Eliot?? Like… Eliot’s loyalty to Nate and the different ways it manifests. You’ve got stuff like in the wedding episode, when Nate tells him to put the money into a different trunk than they planned, Eliot just double checks that he’s sure and then does it. Then you’ve got the moments where Eliot calls Nate out for stuff, or councils w/ Sophie about Nate’s behaviour, or how he’s the one that steps in when Nate and Sophie aren’t around. In the ep where Maggie’s arrested, he runs the rescue seamlessly and is the absolute picture of the competent, reliable lieutenant. Even just the way he’s often seen standing at Nate’s shoulder, as early as when they first pick up Sophie. Being the last to leave at the end of the ep w/ all the flashbacks about the dagger. Eliot used guns and killed for him and the rest of the team, and the fact that Nate’s the only one who knows and he keeps it a secret. Eliot being willing to kill again to keep Nate from doing it. Walks away from a football game to go help Parker bc Nate asked him to, right now. Eliot being the one to prompt Parker, then Hardison to go when Nate turns himself in.

Eliot is consistently portrayed as a very interesting, complex character w/ a checkered past who has an extensive reputation for being extensively dangerous. He doesn’t seem to have worked very long for anyone besides Moreau, some of them are even out for his blood. All in all not the kinda person that’s going to give out not just trust but loyalty easily—but he gives it to Nate (and yes, the whole team, but I’m being focused here); even after Nate hits his button of conning his team (though that’s probably foreshadowed by his eventually forgiving Sophie for the same), even when Nate’s being destructive. Eliot chains himself to Nate’s corner. And that’s just so interesting to me??

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Turns of Phrase

Prompt: I'd like you to consider: all the sides in the mindscape have the "way too literal" problem, like for example, Virgil actually grows taller when his anxiety is heightened, Patton actually grows wings when Thomas has a 'heart aflutter', e.c.t. But Roman just has a huge stack of negative ones. Creative block, bruised ego, shackled creativity, e.c.t. And then there's h/c when somebody (Logan) sees 👀👀

Thanks for the prompt babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, Roman whump

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count:  5722

 This is Roman’s fault. Really. It is. He’s the one who works the closest with the Imagination, which means he’s got control over how Thomas interacts with his own imagination, which means that he’s got control over how Thomas sees the Sides.

 So yeah. This is his fault.

‘Heart all aflutter.’ ‘Heightened anxiety.’ ‘Liar, liar, pants on fire.’ All the little innocuous phrases that are just turns of phrase, not supposed to be literal, well…they got into Thomas’s head when he was younger, and since, the Imagination has never quite gotten rid of them. Shouldn’t be too bad, right, this should be something they can deal with.

 And for the most part, they do.

Patton wears the hoodie tied around his shoulders to block the chill from the slits sewn in the back of all of his shirts in case the wings decide to pop out again. When they do, everyone crowds around to make sure he doesn’t fly off into the sky or accidentally twist one. The feathers are the softest things you can imagine and work great for stuffing pillows or plushies.

 Virgil’s clothes are made of stretchy, baggy material and the doorways are much, much higher than they need to be. There’s a special cupboard tucked high up in the pantry that just has Virgil’s comfort foods in them so he can reach comfortably when he’s tall.

 And, well…there’s a reason Janus wears such a long cloak.

 For the most part, these are just minor inconveniences. Listen, when you live in a completely imaginary world where you can summon anything you need and change anything you don’t like with a snap of your fingers, things like new clothes or snacks are easy.

 Then there’s Roman.

 Roman, who is tied most closely to the Imagination.

 Roman, who represents not just Creativity, but romance, motivation, desire.

 Roman. The Ego.

 The problem with throwing around these types of phrases is how easy it becomes to dismiss them. And for Thomas, who has a creative profession, that’s good. For Thomas.

 Not so good for Roman.

 “Hey, you’ve been having some trouble getting ideas out lately, you doing okay?”

 “Yeah, I’m just going through a bit of a creative block at the moment.”

 Roman’s fists ache as he pounds on the door, heaving sobs trailing off into hitched gasps as he slumps against the unyielding wood. As a desperate last resort, he throws himself at the door, barely making it shudder in its frame. It’s as if he weighs nothing, not an ounce, unable to make so much as a goddamn dent in the world around him.

 “Let me—let me out, please, let me out, I gotta—I want out,” he sobs, over and over, as his room grows smaller and smaller, the walls pressing in around him, blank, sterile, cold, “I wanna—out, let me out, let me out, let me out please—“

 He’s not even in his room anymore. He’s in a pure white cage, on the wrong side of a door that will not open.

 “Dude, like…reign it in a little bit.”

 “You sure?”

 “Yeah. That’s…like, way too much.”

 “I dunno, I think it feels weird if we weren’t doing this.”

 “C’mon, it won’t kill you to shackle your creativity a little.”

 Roman wakes up to the quiet clinking of metal against metal. He goes to wipe his face and a bolt of pain shoots through his arm. The shackles spread him so far his chest aches, wincing as he tries to turn just a little to avoid the rush of agony that would come from having his arm trapped in the wrong position. At least he was lying down this time, and he’s on his bed. He isn’t being forced to stand the whole time, strung up on the ceiling.

 They’re so cold.

 The shackles sap the warmth from his body bit by bit, draining it until the weight of the cold pressing down onto his chest is enough to make him gasp. On instinct, he pulls, trying to get a little more of himself wrapped up, warm, safe, but the chains barely make a groan as they wrench him back apart. He grits his teeth and holds still.

 He learned not to try and break these. He used to rage and slam against them like a brute, trying to pull their fastenings out of some mystical holder, embodied in his wall, only to come away with bleeding and scraped wrists from his pains, rubbed raw and chafed horribly by the cruel shackles.

 For the most part, he’s able to keep the others from noticing. They can’t hear a thing when he’s trapped in the creative block. He’s careful to always wear long sleeves to hide the scrapes and burns from the shackles. They don’t know the true extent of what happens to him when Thomas decides he doesn’t want his creativity.

 But he can’t hide all of them.

 ‘Bruised ego.’

 Patton knows. Patton somehow always figures things out and doesn’t tell anyone, least of all Roman. But sure enough, after the audition, Patton showed up outside of Roman’s door and knocked, quietly asking to be let in.

 Roman had let him, splattered as he was with blues and purples and greens and yellows, all the colors that didn’t belong to him, and yet here they were, painted on him. He’d kept his undershirt on, letting Patton feed him the soup that was sure to end with Roman lying on his back in the bathroom, panting, until the bowl had run dry and Roman’s smile had come back.

 After Patton had gone, the smile had slid off, the paint cracked and chipped. Roman had stood, leaning against the bed for stability, and made his way slowly, oh, so, slowly, to the bathroom.

 Getting his shirt off had been agony. Every time he moved skin had stretched, bruises had protested, even his muscles cried out. The undershirt was soaked in sweat and a light sheen had clung to Roman’s body as he stood there, panting, wincing in the mirror. He couldn’t look.

 That had been the last time it had gotten very bad. Very bad.

 They only ever seemed to notice when it was very bad.

 His prince costume hides the shackle marks. His undershirt hid the bruises. No one cared to look for him when he was trapped in the creative block. No one could see. No one wanted to see.

 No one knew.

 Roman’s been lucky lately.

 They’ve all been happening one at a time. The block never has shackles strapped to the wall. The shackles are never clasped around bruises spilling beneath his skin. The bruises are never from both beating on a door and from the outside world. He can deal with them if they’re like this. One at a time.

 He’s had a few close calls, though. He almost missed a meeting with Logan because the block had him trapped. It squeezed him so tight it felt as if he hadn’t any room to breathe, not until the door and opened a crack and he’d hurled himself out, panting harshly, rushing to Logan’s. He was caught at his desk recently too. The shackles had formed and dragged him over to the corner where he’d bitten his lip to try and stay quiet as he desperately tried to draw himself away. He’d accidentally made too grand a gesture and his sleeve had ridden up, exposing the edge of a mark or bruise and he’d have to pull it back down quick enough so that no one would notice. And so far, it’s worked.

 No one has noticed.

 And what would he say? That this is just some dumb stupid thing he has to deal with? The others know about this whole ‘taking things too literally problem,’ look at Patton, look at Virgil, look at Janus. They all understand and they receive the same amount of attention Roman does. Honestly, they’ve been receiving what they’re entitled to. Their stuff actually runs the risk of harming Thomas. Fire, wings, banging your head, sure, that’s fine, but they—look.

 Having your heart flutter signifies great emotions, the potential for love, you should pay attention to your emotions!

 Heightened anxiety? It’s not great! It means we should be listening to Virgil and what’s going on, what’s upsetting Thomas, how to help.

 And everyone should always be worried about spontaneously combusting pants.

And even if they did find out, what is Roman supposed to say? That it’s his fault they all have these issues? That Thomas’s psyche takes certain liberties with the hard-and-fast rules of what happens to metaphysical people? It’s his fault, after all, he’s the conduit. It’s fine. He can handle this stuff. It’s all fine.

 He should’ve known his luck would run out.

 Roman blinks awake to feel the walls pressing in on him, tighter, tighter, tighter. His breath catches in his throat.

 No.

 No, no, no, he’d been doing so well, so well, they’d just had a conversation about how he’d been so good, the ideas had been good, he’d had—he’d had so many he was ready to work on, he just needed to—

 Roman squeezes his eyes shut, racking his brain. He knows he has ideas. He had them a little while ago. It wasn’t that long. They can’t have vanished so quickly. Wait, what time is it? How did they—how long has he been here? What is—how long has it been? Have the others realized he’s here yet?

 What if they look for him and they think he won’t come out? What if they start to hate him because they can’t find him? What if he can never get out again? What if they realized they never needed him in the first place?

 He—he’s not wrong, he can’t be wrong, he has to be right, he has to—he has to find a way out of here.

 Quickly, Roman squeezes his eyes even tighter, mouth making random shapes as he tries to think. If he can just think of a really good idea, he’ll get out. If he just thinks, if he just does his job, if he’s really good he’ll get out. He can do this, he can do this, he can do this. He can—

  Clink, clink, clink.

 No.

 No!

 Roman snarls as the shackles encase his wrists, forcing to his knees, still crouched in this room that is too small, too pale, too awful. He lunges for the door as he hears the chains slowly start to tighten, their long lengths slipping over and over each other in coils.

 The chains pull taut and he’s suspended there, in the dank air, snarling like a mad dog at a door that is just out of his reach.

 For the first time in a long time, he slams against the chains, raging and bloody as he thrashes back and forth trying to just get to the door—

  Roman, you’re on thin fucking ice.

  Look I don’t wanna just hate a side but roman you royally fucked up bud

  Yeah I’m definitely mad at Roman

 Roman barely suppresses a whine when he realizes where the comments are coming from.

 His nose breaks open and blood pours down his face. His eyes swell and darken until he can only squint through it. One of his fingers breaks and the shackle pinches.

  Roman I have revoked your rights.

  Roman shut the FUCK UP challenge please

  After one line making fun of janus is enough to be cancelled, Roman

 Even without looking down, he knows red and purple are blooming across his ribs. Roman winces pain as he howls again, trying frantically to get to the door, he’ll wrench his arms out of their sockets if he needs to—

  I just hate roman!!! i don’t need a deep reason to hate roman, or anyone else

  oh boi did Princey drop to least favorite side REAL FUCKING QUICK

  It’s not that I don’t despise Roman he’s just never been my favourite. He’s too prideful, rude and while he does have his insecurities the way he hides them makes me uncomfortable since it’s at the expense of other characters. His treatment of the other sides is so awful.

 …is he really that awful? Is…does he…is this…

 Is this how it’s supposed to be?

  I'm gonna spread my anti-roman doctrine. Fuck Roman. Hate that man

  I genuinely hate Roman so. Fucking. Much. Like, can't stand him. Fuck him, I hate him

  It’s always roman-hating hours.

 A dry sob chokes its way out of Roman’s throat as he curls in on himself, another bruise leaving him gasping on the floor like a gutted fish. The chains let him fall to his knees, chest bared to the merciless door. He coughs. Blood flies out of his mouth and spittle drips down his chin. He coughs again. And again. And again. It hurts. Everything hurts.

 He coughs.

 The room presses in on him.

 The shackles trap him.

 Bruises bloom over his body.

 He coughs.

 This is all his fault, isn’t it? He’s the one in charge of the Imagination. He’s the one who makes sure the sides exist and can interact with Thomas. He’s the one who controls how they respond to turns of phrase.

 He’s the one who’s awful to the others. He’s the one who didn’t tell them the truth. He’s the one stuck in this room, in these chains, taking a beating from words and thoughts that he can’t see.

 This is his fault.

 And he doesn’t know if he can fix it.

 Roman gives up.

———————————————————

“Has anyone seen Roman?”

 Patton looks up from the floor as Virgil rolls over. “No, I haven’t. Virgil?”

 Virgil sniffs and shakes his head. “You asked Remus?”

 Logan frowns. “I can’t find them anywhere. Do you know if—“

 “Where the fuck is my brother?”

 “Nevermind, I found him,” Logan mumbles as he turns just fast enough to avoid Remus barreling into him. “I was just coming to ask you.”

 “He was supposed to meet me by the Imagination,” Remus says, bouncing up and down, “we were gonna go exploring. He hasn’t been by all day. Where are you hiding him?”

 “I’m not hiding him,” Virgil yawns, “and neither’s Pat.”

 “Nope! No princes here!”

 “Pocket Protector?”

 “No, I need to ask him about tomorrow.”

 “Ugh.” Remus throws himself down on the couch. “Where’s Snakey? Maybe he knows.”

 “What do I know?”

 “Ah.” Logan turns to see Janus striding out from the shadows near the staircase. “We seem to be unable to locate Roman.”

 Janus raises an eyebrow and flicks a speck of dust from his gloves. “What an unfortunate situation. My deepest apologies.”

 “So you don’t know where he is.”

 “Of course I don’t, why would I?” Janus rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’ve checked everywhere for him.”

 Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Janus…please.”

 “Have any of you even tried his room?”

 “Of course we have, that’s where I looked first.”

 Janus shrugs. “Then I guess our little prince has wandered away. What a shame.”

 Virgil rolls his eyes. “Maybe he just stepped out for a minute. Why don’t you go look again, L, we’ll check down here.”

 “Oh, will we?”

 “J, I swear—“

 Logan quickly heads back up the stairs as Virgil and Janus start bickering. He turns the corner and is soon faced with Roman’s big red door. He reaches out to knock.

 “Roman? Are you in here?”

 Silence. Logan sighs and goes to turn away when he hears it.

 He stops.

 Goes back.

 “Roman?”

 He puts his ear to the door.

 A soft gasp.

“Roman, can you open the door please?”

 “L-L—Lo—“

 Logan swallows heavily. “Roman, I’m coming inside.”

 “L-Logan…”

 Logan pushes open the door.

 He can feel his face go sickly pale.

 Roman is lying on the ground, collapsed in a pool of what looks like blood. His face is swollen, his nose broken, his mouth barely forming the shapes to say Logan’s name. His prince costume is mangled. His wrists are rubbed raw. Even from this far away Logan can see the bruises forming all over his body.

 “Roman!”

 There are shouts from downstairs. The others are worried. Good. Logan’s going to need all the help he can get. He just has to move first.

 Oh, Roman…

 “L? L, what’s going on up there?”

 “First aid,” Logan gasps, then clears his throat, “we need the first aid kit! Roman’s hurt!”

 “What? How’d he—he hasn’t even been in the Imagination yet today!”

 “We can figure that out when we’re up there, Remus, go go go!”

 By the time the others are already rushing up the stairs, Logan has already crouched down next to Roman’s head, trying to figure out the best way to get him up, off the floor, or at the very least figure out what happened.

 “Stay with me, Roman,” he murmurs, petting Roman’s head as his other hand starts to carefully test where it might be hurting, “stay with me, come on…”

 “Lo? Lo, are you in here?”

 “No, wait, don’t—“

 Patton’s cry of dismay quickly followed by Virgil’s curse means he’s too late to warn them. Logan looks up to see their faces drop in absolute shock.

 “Where are the others?”

 “Uh…” Virgil tears his gaze away from Roman’s crumpled figure. “Remus said he…he has some stuff that would help.”

 “And I am of course more than eager to see what our favorite little prince has gotten himself into this time,” Janus drawls, still out of sight, “I’m positively brimming with anticipation.”

 Patton still hasn’t recovered. Virgil carefully takes the first aid kit from his hands and rushes it to Logan. An instant later, Janus appears in the doorway.

 “My, my, Patton, you look so startled, what could possibly…”

 Janus trails off as he finally spots Roman. His eyes widen as he takes in the bruises, the blood, the marks of what look like prison cuffs?

 “Oh, god…” Logan blinks and Janus is crouched beside them, his hands hovering over Roman’s broken form as he starts crooning to the prince.

 “Oh, honey, what happened to you,” he murmurs, his hands starting to pull away the fabric cutting into Roman’s throat, “you poor, poor thing…”

 “Got it.”

 Remus appears in a flash, crouching down as well as Janus and Logan start to help Roman unwind from the bloody mess he’s in. Logan glances over; it’s a kit that has more medical supplies than the first aid kit. Bandages, he can see antiseptic, surgical towels…

 He catches Remus’s eye and they exchange a nod.

 “Where does he need to go,” Janus asks as they start to get Roman upright, “you want him downstairs?”

 “Let’s get him to our bathroom, J,” Virgil suggests, carefully getting his arms around the prince’s shoulders.

 “Do you think it’s safe to sink with him?”

 “Presumably he had to sink out to get back to his room, but I’m not sure it would be wise.”

 “So we’ll carry him,” Virgil says firmly, “all of us.”

 As it turns out, Remus and Janus can help Virgil just fine. Logan snatches up Remus’s kit as Patton grabs the first aid kit, hustling down the corridor to keep up with the others.

 “Lo, what happened?”

 “I don’t know,” Logan mutters back, “but I…I don’t think it was…the Imagination’s been closed all day, hasn’t it?”

 “That’s what I thought too. You don’t think—“

 “I don’t know, Patton, I…”

 Patton’s firm grip on his arm speaks volumes as they finally get to the bathroom.

 The tile is already warm as the others carefully lay Roman down in the big place near the edge of the shower. Logan takes a moment to check what they might need.

 The bathroom is one big open space with a tub in one corner, a large walk-in shower area at the other, and two sinks with a wide counter. Patton and Remus have already started setting up the first aid kit as Janus pulls on a different pair of gloves. Virgil still has Roman’s head in his hands, murmuring softly to him.

 “Is he awake?”

 Virgil shakes his head as Logan sits down. “I can’t tell. He’s looking around but I—he’s not saying anything.”

 “That is not completely unexpected,” Logan murmurs, “we have to get him out of his clothes. They’re making it harder for him to breathe.”

 “Someone needs to stay by his head,” Remus calls, “in case he wakes up and starts freaking out.”

 “I’ve got him.” Sure enough, Janus slips two of his hands gently under Roman’s head as he unclips the back of his collar. “Shh, shh, easy, sweetie, you’re safe now.”

 Virgil scoots back and starts tugging on his hoodie strings. Patton, still hovering by the medical supplies, catches it.

 “Hey, Virge,” he says, shooting a quick nod at Logan, “why don’t we go make something to eat? Something small, and something to drink.”

 “Yeah…yeah that’s a good idea.”

 As the two of them leave, Remus kneels by Roman’s feet and curses. “We’re gonna have to cut them off.”

 “You mean cut the rest of them off,” Janus mutters, “what happened?”

 “You think I’m not beating myself up asking that same thing?”

 “We have to get Roman stable,” Logan says quickly, “and that means we have to see what—“

 “The damage is,” Remus growls.

 “Quite.”

 “Alright. Be careful by his wrists.”

 “We will.”

 “Jan if you drop his head I swear to—“

 “I won’t, I promise.”

 “…I know.”

 “You’re worried about your brother,” Logan whispers as they start peeling the clothes away, “we understand.”

 Janus keeps his promise, cradling Roman’s head as the work to get the rest of his prince costume off. Under any other circumstance, Logan admits this might actually be read as amusing. Peeling Roman out of his clothes, however, has never been less devastating.

 Every inch they pull back reveals more bruises. Roman’s torso is warm, throbbing, carpeted with horrible wounds. Every so often a piece will stick and Roman winces, prompting Janus to stroke his face carefully, murmuring reassurances that they’re here, everything’s okay, Roman’s safe now.

 Remus chucks bruise cream at Logan and they start, methodically applying the cream and bandages. Janus gives them an extra hand where they need it, while keeping up the constant litany of reassurances. Logan comes away confident that nothing is broken, just very badly bruised.

 “So what now?”

 “He has to rest.” Logan pulls off the gloves, running his hand over the ground to make sure they haven’t spilled anything. “I…I don’t know how long that will be.”

 “I don’t want to leave him.”

 They look around, eyes wide at the strangled whisper coming out of Remus. Remus stares down at Roman’s bruised form, thankfully clear of blood now, his hands trembling as they rest on his knees. Remus looks up at them, his eyes glistening.

 “The last time I left him like this it was bad.” He swallows and looks back down. “I’m not leaving my brother.”

 Logan looks at Roman. Brave, strong, sweet, kind Roman. Bruised, scared, exhausted, broken Roman. His hand tightens and without thinking he tucks a stray hair behind Roman’s ear.

 “He hates it when his hair is out of place,” he murmurs as Janus raises an eyebrow at him.

 “We’re not leaving our prince,” Janus says firmly, glancing back at Remus. “Would you like to come sit up here with us?”

 Remus shakes his head. “If something comes through that door trying to get him,” he says in a low voice that Logan has never heard before, “it’s going to have to get through me first.”

 Logan nods. They take up their watch. Remus’s hands twitch every so often, and Logan sees him lay his hand on an unbruised part of Roman’s ankle when they do with a tenderness that takes him a little aback. Janus can’t seem to stop running his hands through Roman’s hair, making comforting noises every time Roman winces as he breathes.

 Logan, well…Logan is trying desperately to figure out what happened.

  Roman hasn’t been in the Imagination today. Remus was waiting and he hadn’t seen him.

Roman hasn’t been seen by anyone else all day.

The last place Roman was seen was in his room.

No one else has been in Roman’s room today.

 “Logan,” Janus calls softly, “Logan, you’re shaking.”

 Logan looks down. Oh. So he is. He takes a deep breath and takes Janus’s offered hand. “I’m…thinking.”

 “About…?” Janus indicates Roman.

 He nods sharply. “I’m having trouble coming to anything but a most troubling conclusion.”

 “What?”

 Logan explains. Janus goes pale.

 “You don’t think…”

 “I don’t want to think that, no.”

 “R-ro-Bro,” Remus whispers, “oh, Ro-Bro, you gotta tell us something when you wake up.”

 He sniffles.

 “Please wake up, Ro-Bro. I gotta…I gotta kick your ass for blowing me off and getting into a fight without me, I gotta—you gotta tell me what kicked your ass so I can go put it in the fucking ground…” He sniffs again, his whole body tense, even as his hand remains gently on Roman. “You just gotta wake up, Ro.”

 After a little while longer, Virgil and Patton return carrying snacks and drinks. Remus doesn’t even look as Virgil sets his octopus water bottle at his elbow. Janus murmurs a thanks and eats a little. Logan eats and drains about half of his bottle. Virgil sits at Remus’s side, Patton at his other.

 “Has he woken up yet?”

 Remus shakes his head.

 “He’s probably just sleeping, Remus, he needs to rest.”

 “I know.”

 “Do we know what happened,” Virgil asks quietly, “at all?”

 Logan winces. “Well…”

 “…don’t like the way you said that.” Judging by Virgil’s expression, he likes it even less after Logan’s finished explaining.

 “Oh, shit.”

 Everyone’s gaze instantly snaps to Patton. Listen. Patton doesn’t curse. It’s a thing. When Patton curses it’s bad.

 “Patton?”

 “Roman…Roman has a thing,” Patton explains, “you know like…like my wings? Or how Virgil gets taller?”

 Virgil nods. “Yeah, okay, but those don’t…hurt us, why would Roman’s…”

 Janus is the next one to curse. “Of course…the bruised ego.”

 Patton nods sadly. “Roman takes, well, it’s not really his choice, Roman is forced to take the brunt of the negative reactions Thomas has. That’s part of his thing.”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Wait, but if this has been happening since…well, since Thomas has had an ego, and we didn’t know about this, then…”

  How many times has this happened?

 Remus growls. “New rule: no one is allowed to fuck with Roman.”

 No one dares disagree. Logan scans over the injuries again. He frowns.

 “Hold on…some of these seem…consistent with that judgment, but then why…”

 A faint groaning sound snaps him out of his musings. A tense silence falls in the bathroom as Roman starts to stir in Janus’s hands.

 “Roman,” Logan calls softly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

 “L’gan?”

 “Yes, Roman, I’m right here. Don’t try and move too much right now, you’re very hurt.”

 Roman blinks up at them, his eyes focusing glassily on Janus, who smiles. He tucks another piece of hair away from Roman’s face.

 “Shh, shh, my prince, hold still,” he coos, “you’re awfully banged up, sweetie, just hold still…shh…”

 “J’nus? What’s…where is…” Roman’s face swivels back to Logan. “Where am I?”

 “You’re on the bathroom floor, Roman, we had to see to your injuries.”

 Roman’s eyes go wide and immediately all of them reach out to hold him still as he tries to move.

 “Shh, shh,” Janus shushes, “none of that now, sweetie, you’re hurt, calm down…”

 “I’m—I have to—“

 “You’re not going anywhere,” comes Remus’s voice from behind them.

 “Remus!”

 “What? He’s not!”

 “Yeah, but there’s no reason to scare the shit out of him.”

 “I can’t see,” Logan hears Roman’s frantic whisper as he turns to glance at the others, “I can’t—let me—“

 “Logan, is it safe for him to sit up?”

 Logan nods. “Just take it slow, nothing too fast. It will probably be the best if he can lean against someone.”

 “Jan—“

 “I’ve got you, sweetie, I’m not going anywhere.”

 When Roman is upright, his back against Janus’s chest, only then do Virgil and Patton relax the slightest bit. Remus doesn’t. Logan’s gaze switches anxiously between the two.

 “Remus—“ Roman swallows— “Re, are you—are you mad at me?”

 “A little.”

 Roman shrinks under Remus’s glare. “I’m sorry.”

 “Jeez, Ro, it’s not—I’m not mad at you like that,” Remus mumbles, “it’s mainly just—well, our thing is…you know, cat pile.”

 “You’re—you’re mad because you can’t lie on top of me right now?”

 “Yeah! It always makes you feel better! And now I can’t help you feel better!”

 “R-Re—“

 Remus lets out a wounded noise and surges forward, careful to avoid barreling into any of the others as he wraps his brother in a protective hug. Janus huffs lightly but stays upright. Roman’s eyes close and his head drops to rest against Remus’s.

 “I’m the only one allowed to fuck with you,” comes Remus’s muffled voice, “no one else.”

 “I know,” Roman whispers, “I know.”

 Logan swallows heavily. “Roman,” he prompts softly, “we aren’t mad at you. We won’t get angry with you.”

 “...promise?”

 “I promise.”

 “I promise.”

 “I promise.”

 “Promise.

Janus just squeezes Roman’s shoulder gently. “I promise too, sweetie. Now, will you tell us what happened?”

 “I, um…” Roman’s gaze flickers over to Patton. “Have you—um…”

 “I’ve told them a little, sweetheart,” Patton says when Roman can’t finish his sentence, “we’ve figured out the ‘bruised ego,’ is there anything else you’d like to tell us?”

 Roman nods. He turns his head back towards Remus, his face contorted. Logan carefully reaches out to ruffle his hair.

 “Take your time,” he whispers, “we’re not going anywhere.”

 “I have three,” Roman blurts out after a moment.

 “…three, honey?”

 “Patton has…the wings, Virgil has the height, Janus…Janus…”

 “Has the pants.”

 Janus lightly flicks Remus’s head, shaking his head fondly.

 “Are you saying you’ve got three turns of phrase, Princey?” Roman nods. “Okay. Is one of them ‘bruised ego?’”

 “Mhmm.”

 “Okay. Are you comfortable telling us the other two?”

 Goosebumps rise on Roman’s arms and Janus carefully positions them so Logan can help rub them away. Remus growls protectively and huddles closer.

 “…creative block,” Roman murmurs, only for Remus to tense. Remus raises his head slowly.

 “Ro-Bro?”

 “I, um, my room—my room shrinks and I—I can’t get out the door, I can’t move anything, I can’t breathe, I—“

 “Shh-shh-shh,” Janus soothes instantly, “you’re safe, my prince, you’re in the bathroom with us, you’re not there, you’re not there.”

 There are a few tense seconds of deep breaths.

 “…what’s the third one, Roman?”

 Roman looks at his wrists, turning them over as if he doesn’t recognize them. “…shackled creativity.”

 Patton clenches his fists as Virgil muffles another curse. Remus follows Roman’s gaze, the line of his shoulders growing tenser by the second. Janus carefully laces his fingers through one of Roman’s hands, Logan lacing his through the other.

 “Thank you for telling us, Roman,” he murmurs, “and…I do not know how much this is worth to you, but…we are so sorry this happens and that we could not do anything about it.”

 “It’s okay,” Roman murmurs, “it’s my own fault.”

 The bathroom falls silent.

 “…Roman, it’s not your fault.” Virgil scoots closer. “How—this isn’t your fault.”

 “Isn’t it? I’m the one that’s the closest to the Imagination,” Roman says softly, completely convinced of what he’s saying, “I’m the one that makes it possible for Thomas to see us…the Sides, the Imagination…isn’t that my job?”

 “Not like that,” Logan says firmly, “never like this.”

 “Logan’s right,” Virgil says when it looks like Roman’s about to argue, “you’re the conduit for the Imagination, but you’re not responsible for everything that this place does, let alone how Thomas interprets and internalizes stuff.”

 “None of this is you, Roman.” Janus rests his cheek against the top of Roman’s head. “None of it. It’s not Patton’s fault he grows wings, it’s not Virgil’s fault he grows taller, and it’s not your fault that this happens to you.”

 “You’re missing someone off the list there, Jan-Jan.”

 “Remus, I swear to god—“

 Remus cackles, throwing his head back as Janus swats at him. Of course, the problem is that they all try and look mildly annoyed at Remus, and yet the instant it makes Roman giggle, even a little, they all have to break character because Roman’s smiling again.

 “Seriously, Ro-Bro,” Remus says after a moment, “this isn’t on you. You don’t deserve this or some other fucked-up shit. This is fucked up all on its own. You’re not responsible for this.”

 “We’ll talk to Thomas,” Logan says, “about…negative feedback and internalizing things, alright? This isn’t healthy, Roman, it’s not—it’s not supposed to be like this, and it’s definitely not your fault.”

 “…okay.”

 “Can you say that for me, sweetie,” Janus coaxes, reaching around to cup Roman’s face, “that it’s not your fault?”

 “I-it’s not—“

 Roman stops. Swallows heavily.

 “Go on, my prince, you can do it.”

 “…I-it’s not my fault.”

 “Good.”

 “It isn’t my fault.” Roman’s eyes go wide and something hitches in his throat. “It is—isn’t—I—oh, god—“

 They catch Roman as he starts to cry.

 “You did so well, sweetheart, so well, I’m so proud of you.”

 “It’s okay, Princey, it’s gonna be okay.”

 “I’ve got you, my prince, I have you.”

 “You’re gonna be fine, Ro-Bro, I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

 “You don’t have to do this alone, Roman.”

 Roman rests there, in the arms of his family, bruised and exhausted, but not broken.

 Not anymore.

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[minorobsessionhere]

Kandomere x OC (Liren) Pt. 5

The next day Mikey texted her, asking if she’d “like some company.” Liren debated for a while before she wrote back a brief “sure”. She really hoped she could make whatever this was work. Mikey was nice and she enjoyed spending time with him. He was her gym buddy. Her helping hand. Too many good things for her to mess this weird relationship of theirs up.

Mikey arrived shortly before lunch time. This time he was in his usual get up and just as much tooth and grin as normal. He smirked at her as he stood in her kitchen. She knew what he wanted. She smirked back. His eyes darted away for a moment. Liren playfully pushed him and steered him toward the counter. “Oh come on you big dork. I’ll make us lunch.”

He playfully puffed his cheeks and parked it in a chair. “Thank Jirak, I’m starving.” Liren shook her head at him, and his sudden bashfulness, and pulled some sandwich bread out. She grabbed a few apples and some tea as well. She was debating over Havarti or Gouda while Mikey inquired about her plans. Liren had decided to rest today. She was tired from her long weekend. “I dunno, I was thinking about a mini movie marathon and cramming an obscene amount of Pb M&m’s into my mouth at some point. Might do a face mask. Are you in or are you chicken shit?” The look Mikey gave her was dead serious.

“Depends.” He squared up with her and grinned, flashing his teeth at her. “Do I get to pick the movie if I let you put crap on my face?”

Liren chuckled and nodded in agreement. “Brave man. But I get to narrow down the choices.”

“Deal.” They shook on it and went back to the lunch prep.

They chatted about unimportant things and Liren gave him the choice of movies. They settled on Harry Potter and hunkered on the couch together. Mikey inhaled his food and Liren chuckled as she munched on hers. Normal. That’s how Liren felt. Mikey had pulled her to his side and wedged her head into the crook of his shoulder. He told her to keep her hands to herself and that maybe once the face masks were gone he’d allow her to fondle him, after. Liren had snorted and ribbed him in the side with her elbow. He was a terrible flirt, ridiculous, and goofy. Liren wished she had known him when she was back in Atlanta. She wouldn’t have hesitated with him then and scooped him up. He would have been a great fit for her, unlike Fin. 

There had been a certain allure, but Fin had been too perfect, and when that perfect mask fell she didn’t like what was underneath. The charming and attentive man she’d fallen for had disappeared and the aggressive, manipulative, monster emerged. But she wouldn’t think about that anymore. Fin was out of the picture and Mikey was slowly becoming someone she could consider dating long term. There was no rush for her to decide. They’d been friendly long enough Liren could take her time and figure out what the hell she wanted to do. And that was the problem. She hadn’t really thought about the future. She poured all her time into the nursery, her friends, the gym, and her little hobbies. It wasn’t until recently she’d realized she wanted more. She missed having someone. Sure, Gemma and Nick were always there for her but she missed having someone next to her at night. Someone to hold her from time to time. It was lonely in that big old bed, all by herself. She’d thought about getting a dog last year but worried that she was too busy for one, and there was always that looming fear of Fin. And like always she’d scold herself for letting him continue to control so many aspects of her life, and made herself believe that she didn't really want a dog after all. It was better that way. If something happened then it was just her.

But the loneliness was becoming too much, too heavy, and she wouldn’t allow that weight to settle in her chest, lest it crush her. She’d buried her secret desires away a long time ago. Family. Intimacy. Change. But having fulfilled a few more  recent desires last night... Maybe Mikey would be someone she could share them with? She wanted a partner, a lover, and a friend. She saw the potential there. It could work.

After the first movie Liren busted out the face masks and she enjoyed it immensely as Mikey surrendered to her antics and let her smear mud all over his face. She made popcorn and they continued to stuff themselves. She couldn’t help but giggle when looking over at Mikey, with pink gunk smeared across his face. She was nothing but stealth as she quickly snapped a picture and the Orc turned on her. Mikey let out a low growl and glared at her wide eyed. He tickled her in retaliation and made her swear never to show anyone. “I don’t make deals with terrorists” she shouted as he tickled her mercilessly. When tears started to leak from her eyes did he ease up. He wiped his phone out and ended his assault, “fine but I get one too.” Fair enough she shrugged.

The night continued with more silliness and many laughs, like two kids at a sleepover. They had a small debate over the wands of Harry Potter and the ones of their world. Liren preferred HP because they had more range. Mikey pffed at her in disagreement.

It was after midnight when Mikey lifted his chin from his resting place on Liren’s head. “We should call it a night, it’s getting late.” 

Liren checked the clock and yawned in agreement. “You’re right. It’s probably time to start turning in.” Liren’s brain fumbled with what to say next. The weekend with Mikey had been so pleasant she hated for it to end. She took a glance at Mike and he curled a brow at her, as if asking “what’ll it be”. When he started to move away; tidying up the mess they’d made, did she reach her decision.

“Mike, it’s kinda late to be driving back..” That was bullshit and they both knew it. His wobbly smirk told her so. She was just too proud to come right out and say she didn’t want to be alone tonight. She rubbed the back of her neck.

The Orc paused and turned to give her his full attention. “If you want me to stay you just have to say so.”

Liren moved from the couch and rubbed her arms. “Welp, I reckon it’s too late to run you off now. You can bunk with me”, she turned on her heel.

“Damn woman. You just can’t get enough can you.”

Liren tossed him a look over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. She hit the light switch on the wall and scurried down the hall. Mikey followed after her.

The next morning…

Liren blinked a few times as she woke. She quickly rolled over to turn off her alarm so as not to wake Mikey. But he continued to sleep heavily as she wiggled out of bed, and padded to the bathroom. After a quick shower and pulling on some clothes Liren went to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee and make some breakfast. 

As she was finishing up, she platted a portion for Mike, in case he wanted some when he woke up.

About ten minutes before the guys were supposed to pick her up, Mikey came out of the bedroom still looking half asleep. He rumbled a “good morning” to her and kissed her head. It made her melt a little. Even half awake he was sweet.

The sound of tires crunching gravel made her scarff down the last bites of her breakfast and she rushed to grab her things. “I left you some eggs on the counter. And there’s still some coffee left”, she said to Mikey.

He thanked her and tossed her her keys from the counter. She caught them and turned to leave, “lock up for me?” Mikey nodded, following her to the door and opening it. Liren came to a halt as she almost plowed right into Kandomere. He was poised to knock. His hand fell as he righted the woman in front of him.

Liren jerked back in time not to slosh her coffee on him but stepped on Mike's foot. She squeaked in surprise, she turned to apologize and became aware of the sudden tension at her doorstep.

Kandomeres' face had turned dark. She thought he was upset with her for almost spilling coffee on what she was sure was a very expensive suit. The thought made her internally cringe. But she noticed his gaze trained on Mikey behind her. 

Kandomere had called the next day like he said he would. She assured him everything was fine, and hoped he didn’t hear the embarrassment in her voice through the phone, as she apologized for her behavior the night of the party. She hadn't had that much to drink in a long time, she explained. He’d told her not to worry about it, that he had enjoyed himself, and thanked her for the hospitality. He had such a smooth voice over the phone that Liren found herself a little less flustered. Everything about him was smooth. The chat was brief and ended quickly, not to say that she was disappointed or anything. 

Mikey stood behind her with his hand on her hip. A slight grumble left the young orc and Liren almost turned around to smack him. Days off to a great start. She didn’t know what their deal was but she wasn’t about to get into it. It’s way too early for this shit.

Liren squeaked, “sorry bout that. Ready,” She questioned, therefore disrupting the tension between the two. It was too early to deal with… whatever was going on between those two. Kandomere stepped aside for her to pass by. Mikey cleared his throat behind her, as she turned, he leaned down and pecked her cheek. “I’ll see you later.” She gave him a quick smile and an “okay”, then loaded into the SUV. Before she was even buckled Kandomere joined them without a word and set off down the driveway. 

She glanced up at the rear view mirror and quickly looked away when Kandomeres' eyes flicked her way for the briefest moment. Agent Montehugh gave them both a look and said nothing as he scrolled through his phone. Cold greetings this morning. Liren held in a sigh and sipped her coffee quietly. 

This time there was no small talk right away. Liren had the feeling that she’d done something wrong somehow. But she hadn’t. It wasn’t like she was late or anything. She mulled to herself and realized that Kandomere might have a problem with Mikey. It didn’t make sense necessarily. He had gotten along with Gemma and Dorghu just fine, and even a few others the night of the party. Maybe he was just grumpy this morning and she was reading way too much into the situation. And like usual Montehugh couldn’t help himself. “What's up with you two this morning?” Liren could have strangled him. She almost choked on her coffee.

“Nothing’s the matter”, Kandomere stated matter of factly. He didn’t look at her, just stared at the road ahead.

“Yeah, I dunno what you're talking about”, Liren mumbled in agreement. Well, nothing is wrong with me. Pissy Pants over there is annoyed about something. She thought to herself. Montehugh hummed. 

Then the car filled with silence again. It was going to be a looong day, and not at all like she imagined her first real day on the job. How exciting.

Their first stop was a literal dead end. And as they traveled to the next location it gave Liren some time to think. Her mind played flashbacks of the weekend but she tuned them out and went into business mode. I wonder how long this will take? A month? A year? Liren wondered too how this would affect the nursery. She didn’t want to do this thing with the MTF long term. She contemplated the matter in silence from the back seat and nibbled the inside of her lip. She was used to being elbows deep in fertilizer and dirt long before anyone else even arrived at the nursery, she was the actual hands on one. Gemma was the organized one. She fielded the calls and emails, and did most of the clerical work. She would be able to take Liren’s place for a while, but it wasn't fair to ask so much of her, when she already did so much. Mikey would help too, like he always did when he smelled how stressed she was. Things were slow right now, but who knew how long that would last. They were close to taking a contract with a landscaping company in Elftown. That would be a big deal for the nursery. Liren pictured her little beauties in the opulent cross walks and medians. Her mark on Elftown. It made her giddy to think of it. But there was a little dread too. What if it didn’t work out, and they didn’t like what she had to offer? But the landscapers would be the ones to deal with the fussy elves and not her necessarily. “God I hope it goes through.” It would eat her up inside if the nursery suffered at all.

“I could always back out.” That had been discussed already, but that might not sit well with a certain elf. Liren didn’t know why Kandomere bothered her so much, why his opinion mattered to her, but it felt like she was supposed to have met him, and his opinion held a little sway over her. There was a reason she found them that day and it felt wrong to turn her back from their purpose now. They had just got started after all. She didn’t want to let anyone down. Herself included, “I promised I’d help, and dammit a promise is a promise.” Liren kept a sigh to herself. She told herself to be patient and not to be hasty. Patience was not one of her strong suits though, as her temper often got the better of her. It was something she wasn’t proud of but no one was perfect…

“That your boyfriend Daniels?”

This time she did choke, the coffee burned as it went up through her nose, and heat filled her cheeks. She beat her chest a few times, trying to clear her airway. “I’m sorry, what?”

“That orc kid. He your boyfriend or something?” Liren gaped at Montehugh. The man was good at asking questions. Personal questions. Ones that she didn’t particularly feel like answering. Because she didn’t really have one.

Liren sputtered, “um-I–its-I don’t know”, as Montehugh chuckled at her unease. She rubbed at the back of her neck and busied herself with her rapidly emptying coffee cup.

“Shouldn’t you know? Take it easy Daniels. Just making small talk.” Montehugh shifted to look at her, waiting for an answer.

Liren flushed again. “Well, he’s a friend.”

Montehugh gave her a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “Does he know that?” Liren threw her head back against the headrest. “Of course he doesn’t know that. I don’t even know what he is.” She chewed her lip and narrowed her eyes at the ginger.

“You’re terribly nosey, ya know that?” The man smirked at her and turned around.

“Poor gu-”

A monotone, sharp “Ulysses” came from the driver's seat. That was all Kandomere said. “Sorry, just trying to make conversation”, came in response. Liren stayed quiet in the back and tried to catch a glance at Kandomere. He had barely spoken all morning. He seemed… agitated.

“Kandomere, are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet this morning”, Liren inquired gently. Finally his eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. For a split second, Liren’s green orbs held his blue pool. A tingly shiver ran up her spin. They broke contact and his eyes turned back to the road ahead.

“I am fine, Ms. Daniels.” He glanced at her. She frowned and didn’t speak again. Kandomere knew that he was being an ass. It was easier to be that way. He wouldn’t say that he was upset, because he wasn’t, but he was definitely… perturbed.

He had been surprised this morning to see the orc, Michael, still at her home. He had not meant to react as he did but there was something he didn’t like about the orc boy. And he could smell him all over Liren. A coil of anger had settled in his stomach since their interaction this morning, as he breathed in the scent. They had been together… The orcs scent hung heavily in the confined space of the vehicle. It was irritating and distracting; swirling around in his nostrils.

Kandomere thought that Liren had sent the orc away shortly after he had left himself, that Friday night. An unwanted surge of jealousy had bolted through him, when the orc appeared at her door, and when he kissed her. Kandomere shut the memory away and decided to think no more of it. He could admit his attraction to Liren, to himself, but that was it. She was a tool to find the wand and that was all. “{Bullshit.}” Ever since she had saved him that day, she had been at the forefront of his mind. At first he had brushed away the thoughts, and labeled them as curiosity. Because she was an interesting woman. Her power fascinated him, not in a jealous way or wanting to possess what she had but because she was sort of amazing. “And soft hearted. And lovel-” She lingered in his mind too much for his liking.

“Forgive me. I’ve had a lot on my mind… Everything's fine.” Liren gave him a small smile in understanding and Kandomere turned his focus back to the road. Another abandoned warehouse was their destination. A tip had come in over the weekend that there was illegal magical activity going on there. It would not hurt to take a look now that the building had been cleared.

When he pulled up to the building Liren practically lept from the car. The woman couldn’t stand to be still for more than a minute. Perhaps she was nervous. She tended to get fidgety when she was annoyed. He would remember to play some music for her once they left here. He had promised her in his head that he would, and hopefully it would ease her nerves, help settle her. He had made her uncomfortable this morning and hoped this would serve as an apology. He had no right to be cross with her. She hadn’t done anything to earn his ire. She deserved his respect.

She shifted, almost dancing in place as she waited. Kandomere wasn’t sure if that was due to nervous energy, or impatience. He went around to the trunk, and pulled out one of the bullet proof vests, handing it to her. “Put this on.”

She cocked her head and her eyes widened at him as she scrunched up her mouth. She asked if he was joking. To which he said no, he was not. “Your safety is important.” She went quiet and strapped in. He helped her with the last strap and tried not to flinch when he caught another strong whiff of her scent. Or notice the blush that had spread to her cheeks, when their eyes met again. Once she was ready, Kandomere let Montehugh lead the way, as he flanked Liren.

The next few days went on much the same. The guys picked her up and they spent the majority of the day hauling her all over the city, through back alleys, abandoned buildings, parts of Elftown, and a few surrounding cities. All with no luck. In between searches she answered emails, paid invoices, answered a few calls, and anything else that she could do from the car, and in between stops. There had been no more awkward mornings, after the first incident. But Liren had also offered coffee… Kandomere remained cordial with her and Montehugh continued to pick at her most of the time. It seemed to be all in good fun. She would never admit it, but the ginger was growing on her. He kind of reminded Liren of her dad; in his gruff demeanor and need to constantly egg her on. 

They soon settled into a nice rhythm together. Liren expected that there would have been more structure to their days but it seemed to her there was hardly any. But the agents assured her there was a carefully thought out plan that had been mapped out now that they had her. They had been doing this a long time, so she took their word for it, and trusted the process. Everyday had been the same but not… There was a lot of time spent in transit from one place to another, which made her feel a bit restless, but she had gotten to see many parts of the city she might not have otherwise. While she had her reservations at first, Liren secretly enjoyed being able to ‘stretch her metaphorical legs’ outside of the nursery. She grew comfortable enough to share more of it with the two agents, nothing too showy of course. She would never share all of her gift with them. She didn’t trust anyone enough to show them everything. Mostly it was little tricks and useful things that she shared with them, like the thing she had done with the handcuffs and bullets. She didn’t tell them that she could tear this car apart, or potentially start an earthquake. Most of the time when those types of things happened it was from a place of anger. It took too much out of her and she didn’t like feeling that way. Liren didn’t think of herself as a destructive person and didn’t invest her time in the destructive side of her powers. What would be the point? It didn’t help anyone. 

Lunch was possibly one of the biggest ‘debates’ they had on the daily. It caused a bit of tension from time to time, and it was the only time Liren and Montehugh would ever stop their pestering each other, was to gang up on Kandomere for fast food, when they were pushed for time. And Liren absolutely refused to go into the fancy joints that Kandomere suggested. She’d informed him that her work boots were not exactly up to dress code for a five star restaurant. To which he always responded that she looked fine. She would cross her arms and Montehugh would laugh.

“I thought you were supposed to be my partner.”

“Sorry boss, the lady is starving. You remember last week when she got hangry.” Liren grinned meekly from the backseat and gaped at Montehugh after his traitorous speech. She wasn't that bad. 

“Good man Montehugh.” She said cheekily.

Kandomere even noticed that he was picking up one of Lirens bad habits, as he fought not to roll his eyes at the two. 

“I’m driving. We’ll go-”

“You always drive. Now pull into McDonalds or else.” Kandomere held in his disgust and did as commanded. He shook his head at them as they shoveled chicken nuggets into their mouths. Tomorrow he would be asking for a new partner. One who didn’t take sides with bossy gardners and didn’t eat garbage. And a new magical informant that wasn’t so distracting and didn’t smell like summertime and orc.

But once their lunch was eaten, the alliance ended there, and Liren and Montehugh were back to badgering one another. Kandomere felt pity for most parents, because now he understood what it was like having to deal with exasperating children.

“I’ll make it up to you. How about we have lunch at my place tomorrow,” Liren offered. “I’ll make something simple, nothing too spicy for Pumpkin over here. And we can go over the plan for next week while we wait.” Ulysses glowered at her but it took much more than that to intimidate Liren now. She had grown used to the giant's ways and wasn't bothered by him anymore. It was all in good fun. Liren made up her mind that Montehugh loved her nicknames. Both parties agreed and Liren scrolled through her Pinterest board for ideas.

Kandomere didn’t shoot down the idea which made Liren think she just might be growing on him, just as he had her. And the damn ginger too. Did she fully trust them, no. But Rome wasn’t built overnight.

“Alright you two, let's get a move on. I’m starvin’.” Kandomere knew now that was the first and last warning they would get before Liren became ‘hangry’. And they certainly wouldn’t want that. She could be… mildly frightening… perhaps a bit pouty, when she was hungry. 

Normally, he would have found the behavior to be quite childish, but like most of his thoughts concerning Liren, they were atypical and unusual. And he gave into most of her whims without much dispute, within reason. For instance, Liren wasn't crazy about the Kevlar vest, but Kandomere wouldn't hear any of her disagreements on the matter. She might be capable of bending bullets but that didn't mean she could stop them, and he didn’t take chances with any of his people. A small grumble from behind broke Kandomere from his line of thinking and he turned on his heel. Kand]’’omere nodded his head in agreement and the trio loaded into the suv. Thankfully it was a short drive to Lirens home from their current location. The clock was ticking.

And once they were there Liren got straight to work. She was like a bee, buzzing around her little kitchen; setting places for them at the island, pressing drinks into their hands, and adjusting the knobs on the stove as she flipped the sandwiches over. Kandomere was fascinated with her hands. They were beautifully decorated with those tiny tattoos on her fingers. He recalled when she handed him his drink that they were a little rough. Probably from many hours spent toiling in her little garden of Eden. Calloused though they were, they were nimble and precise, and sent a shiver across his skin at the slightest touch. 

Montehugh cleared his throat and gave him a look. Kandomere knew he had been caught. Ulysses was no fool, he had probably known about his interest in Liren long before Kandomere knew himself. The elf narrowed his eyes at his once trusted partner and redirected his attention to the files in his lap. They had yet to share all of the information in them with Liren. Kandomere had decided it would be beneficial to share some of the information with her. Perhaps a little snippet here and there to push her along. And perhaps he would learn something from Liren as well. He always felt she was holding something back. She was so open and then leary at times. She made his head spin. 

“Okay you two, eat these and hopefully dessert will be finished by the time we're done.” The two agents moved from the cushy living room into the kitchen area, taking their seats at the island. Liren set two plates in front of them, both filled with fresh chips and sides of salsa. She’d made some sort of BLT, grilled cheese and Kandomere was skeptical. There was fruit as well, and something heavenly smelling in the oven. He took a bite of the sandwich and was pleasantly surprised at the crunch and hidden flavor. Liren had been hovering, waiting for a reaction, so Kandomere gave her one. Just a slight curve of the lips. Anymore than that and Montehugh would have a field day.

Liren had been a little worried that lunch was too simple. She’d noticed Kandomere had a picky palate. Well, that wasn’t entirely true, he liked good food. She noticed it didn’t matter if it came from a five star joint, or a food truck, but if the food was bad, he wouldn’t touch it. Fast food was hit or miss with him, mostly miss. And there was one place he hated more than any other. McDonalds. Liren learned of his hatred for the place, not by his refusal to eat anything on their menu, but by the way he clenched his jaw as he placed the order, when they went through the drive thru. Montehugh found Kandomere’s reaction rather humorous; he said not once, in the ten years that he had known the elf had he ever been able to get Kandomere to even drive through a McDonalds. “It’s a little annoying how you just show up, twist his arm, and now he’s a regular customer.” Liren thought it kind of funny too, but shrugged her shoulders, and just assumed it was due to her strong powers of persuasion.

Liren had noticed something else too. She had developed a new bad habit, a troublesome one… watching Kandomere. She had so much going on daily, between the nursery, the field work, and Mikey, she shouldn't have had the time to be ogling him. And yet in between emails, and searches, her eyes always found their way back to the blue haired elf. It was ridiculous; this schoolgirl crush. That's what she called it anyways. Because obsession was too strong a word. She had thought Kandomere was beautiful the first time she saw him. The attraction was there. There was no denying that. No matter how much she tried. But he was mysterious too. And that held a certain appeal too. She hadn’t learned hardly anything about his personal life, other than the few details Big Red let slip from time to time. And Kandomere was calm. Always so calm, it was like his superpower. Liren was a bit envious of how he managed to stay that way. She had seen him annoyed a few times now, but he never lost his temper, and always kept his cool.

Even now, whilst she was running around her kitchen, she kept an eye on him. Liren had hosted parties before but this little luncheon was different. Kandomere was sitting in her living room, looking just as pretty as a polished penny, and like always he was just blinding. And distracting. Liren had overcooked her sandwich a bit, when she was being a Kandy creep. But everything turned out alright. She had nearly smacked herself after suggesting having lunch at her place. She had been so nervous afterwards. Which was stupid. The rate at which the two inhaled their food put all her worries to rest. Liren enjoyed other people enjoying her food, and some of the ingredients were fresh from her little garden. She was quite pleased with herself. And they hadn’t even had dessert yet. The night before she had been worrying herself with what to make them, and in the end she had scrolled through her phone and whatever her finger landed on, was what they ended up having.

 The smell of cinnamon filled the room and she took a peek at the timer on the stove. Almost done. Liren leaned against the counter and studied the two men in her kitchen. Their clothes made them look so out of place in her little boho den. Ulysses ate up a lot of the space with how large he was, and Kandomere… He stood out. He would no matter where he went. She wasn’t sure if it was because he had been in her home, at a time of leisure that he seemed more at ease. But when they had first settled in, Kandomere had gone to her couch; the couch she and Mikey had defiled, and then glided away from it and parked it in her favorite chair. Liren decided not to think about it too much, or she would never make it through this lunch without a blush on her face. She made a mental note to have that couch cleaned sometime soon.

Beeping from the stove broke her train of thought and Liren dashed to the oven. She pulled the pan out and inspected the eight little rolls in it. Three scoops of ice cream and a little garnish later, Liren watched Big Red and Kandomere inhale and bite into the apple dumplings. They were a fall favorite but Liren had gotten a ton of apples from a neighbor, and didn’t want them to go to waste.

“Damn woman! My diabetes is flaring up just from the smell of these. What's the secret?” Montehugh asked in between chews. Liren gave a little laugh and scooped up a bite. Mmm, they really were good. She glanced at Kandomere, and to her surprise he cleaned his plate. Liren grinned at him, and eyeballed his plate. Kandomere stared back at her. “Want some more?” Kandomere nodded, and Liren bit her lip as she turned away. “Kandomere has a sweet tooth”, she thought to herself. It was funny that someone so serious had such a hankering for sugar. The thought had her tickled. Liren gave him a second dumpling, and watched Kandomere devour it as well.

Liren knew she had a little sweet tooth of her own. She had a bad habit of wanting things that were out of her reach. And she really liked watching Kandomere, like now, and the way the sharps of his teeth peeked from under his lip. Liren tried to listen as Montehugh pointed out some key notes from the file they had finally decided to share with her. Liren blinked a few times, scolded herself internally, and attempted to focus on what was being said. “And Leilah here, is the bright you saw that day at the warehouse. She’s bad news.” Liren nodded. She knew that.

Montehugh showed her a couple of pictures and Liren immediately recognized the Bright from before, and then it clicked… She knew who Leilah was. Fin had known her. “I remember the crazy witch.” She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Leilah was Fin’s coven leader. The one he planned to stab in the back. Liren tried to remember if she had seen Leilah before. Fin hadn’t introduced her to anyone in the coven specifically.

Montehugh continued. “And this tiny tot, is her sister, Tikka. There’s some kind of beef going on between the two right now. And we think that Tikka is now in possession of the wand.”

Liren nodded in understanding. She could feel the heat creeping down her back and unease curled in her stomach. Fin had been a part of Leilah’s coven. They had been based out of Atlanta then. And if Leilah was here in L.A. now… then Fin most certainly was too. And they were all fighting over the wand. That wasn’t good. ”Stay calm”. Liren started to bounce her leg and shifted a few times before getting up and collecting a few dishes. She needed something to busy herself with lest she give herself away. A part of her wanted to confess she knew of these people, and that Fin was the one that they should really be worried about. He was the one she was worried about. 

After washing the same plate for the third time, Liren set it down in the sink and dried her hands off. “Why are you telling me all of this now? I don’t really need to know the coven history to find the wand.”

“Who said anything about a coven, Daniels?” Liren crossed her arms and chewed the inside of her lip.

“Accusing me of something, Orange Glow? We all know that's what this is. It’s not rocket science.” Montehugh didn't miss a beat and pulled even more out of the file. Liren felt like her battleship was about to be sunk. If they pulled out any more pictures, his was bound to be in there, and she didn’t know if she could hold it together. She had been blessed not to see his face for several years now, and wanted very much to keep it that way.

“Anyways, come over here and take a look at the rest of this, if you’re done being a brat.” Liren sneered. They had been doing so well. But the peace always ended once their bellies were full. And now Lirens was full of anxiety.

Kandomere watched Liren at the sink. Something was off. There was something she wasn’t telling them. She seemed tense all the sudden. Something about the coven struck a chord and he thought he knew why. Liren had resided in the Atlanta area for a number of years. And it seemed to him she knew a little too much about magic for a gardener. {“Is she a Bright?”}

He would let it slide for now. Kandomere himself was tense. Ulysses was intentionally pressing his buttons. He had nearly molded to his seat when Liren shared her trade secret to the apple dumplings. Her reply, “Butter baby. Lots of butter,” had made Kandomere’s ear twitch. He wasn’t sure why, but that little phrase and her smug little grin did something to him. Adorable. Her happiness at such a small thing like compliments to her cooking, was enough to note his attention. Too much of his attention. But someone else had her attention. He would let it go. It was nice enough to be in her company. He took a deep breath and let it go. Stay calm. He swallowed his third dumpling and drew near Liren. {“Cinnamon and citrus,”}

Liren seemed to calm after a few minutes and fiddled with some of her plants on the coffee table. “I think I’ve seen enough witches for today. What's the game plan for next week looking like?” Kandomere let her redirect the conversation, and decided to shelf his questions for her, for another time.  He too had had enough of witches, enough to last a lifetime. 

[lardguz]

Panic in the Pantry

So I've been really into Ze//ro Esca//pe lately, and I noticed there was like, no weight gain writing for the series, probably because the games themselves are pretty serious most of the time. But I'm gay and a loser so I wrote a thing of Si//gma trying to solve the Pantry escape room by eating everything in sight!

A tall, muscular young man stood in a hallway in front of a door flanked by two other people: another tall young guy who was much thinner and lankier than the first one and was wearing a ridiculous circus ringleader getup, and a short, skinny girl with white hair. The three of them stared at the door in front of them, which had the word “Pantry” being projected from the front of it somehow. The three of them were just one third of the people in this facility as far as they knew, and they were being forced to play something called “The Nonary Game Ambidex Edition” by someone called Zero. The tall muscular man named Sigma and the other half of his bracelet pair, the small girl named Phi, had teamed up with the blonde man in the top hat named Dio, and opened one of the chromatic doors to proceed to the next round of the game. This had led them to the hallway they were currently in, facing the door to what was apparently going to be a pantry.

Sigma turned to his two teammates and motioned towards the door. “So, this place has a pantry. You think that means there were people living here before this game started?”

Phi rolled her eyes and responded in complete deadpan. “No, I think they were just expecting us to be here for a while, Sigma. Of course people were living here. Who else would have built this place?”

“I dunno, they have an AI rabbit in the main computer, who’s to say if this place isn’t run by robots or something?” Sigma retorted. He crossed his muscular arms and glared down at the white-haired girl, who was staring right back at him, unflinching. Dio placed a hand on each of their shoulders and spoke in his usual slow, condescending voice. “All right, all right, settle down you two. We don’t have time for lover’s quarrels right now, remember? We gotta find the key cards for the Ambidex Gate. So let’s get a move on, okay?” Sigma and Phi grumbled in reluctant agreement, and Sigma moved to open the door.

What greeted the trio was a room filled with walls and walls of drawers, each one meticulously labeled with which foods it contained within. The three of them immediately set about examining each drawer. “This is… a lot of food,” Phi whispered as she checked another drawer. “Why did they stockpile so much of it, do you think?”

“Probably so they could keep building this fucked-up murder game without having to make constant trips to the grocery store or something.” Dio responded, pulling out a container of spaghetti from the drawer he was checking. He looked at it with a hint of disgust on his face. “Urgh, it’s all prepackaged food though. The kinda shit that’s loaded with preservatives and stuff to make it last forever. This shit is so unhealthy. Whoever built this place must be a total fatass after living off this for God knows how long.”

Sigma paused as he opened a drawer of udon stir fry bowls. “Wait. Maybe this food isn’t for Zero.”

Phi looked up at him, raising one eyebrow inquisitively. “What do you mean, Sigma?”

He grabbed one of the bowls of udon and ripped open the packaging. Sigma grabbed a noodle with his bare hand and dropped it into his waiting mouth, and spoke as he chewed. “Well, if th’scape room’sh a pantry, maybe th’ puzzle’sh gotta involve thish food!” He swallowed and continued explaining himself. “I mean, why else would one of the escape rooms be a pantry? We probably have to eat a certain amount of the food here to unlock the door or something!” The dark haired man reached his hand into the udon bowl again and grabbed more noodles to eat as Dio and Phi stared at him incredulously.

Phi sighed heavily and went back to searching the room herself, but Dio was laughing too hard to continue doing much of anything. “Hahahaha, holy shit, Sigma, you’re a damn genius! You got this whole game all figured out, huh?” The blonde man’s voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Sigma didn’t care. He was convinced he was right, and so he kept eating his udon stoically. When he finished the first bowl, he reached into the drawer and grabbed another, and another, until he’d cleared it out entirely. When Sigma straightened up to open the next drawer, he felt his middle wobble slightly, and he looked down. His stomach stuck out just a little bit, a nice coating of soft fat just beginning to form over his formerly toned abs. Shaking his head, Sigma opened the drawer anyways, reasoning with himself that if this was the solution to the puzzle, he could sacrifice his muscles for now. Plus there was probably a weight loss antidote as a reward in the safe! He grabbed the packages of curry from the drawer he opened and kept eating, trying his best to ignore his gradually growing waistline.

After an hour in the pantry, Phi and Dio had turned up no hints to solving the puzzle themselves. Sigma also hadn’t encountered any hints, but what he had done was clear out six whole drawers of provisions, and it showed. His outfit, once baggy and poorly fitting, now clung to his new chubby body, accentuating every roll and fold. His blue button-up shirt rode up on his torso, no longer able to be tucked into his matching pants whatsoever. The buttons were beginning to strain against his growing gut, and the short sleeves dug into his fat upper arms. The waistband of his pants was clearly straining as well, his belly and hips oozing over the top of it to form a plush muffin top. His thickening thighs and calves caused the fabric of his pants to look like an overstuffed piping bag, and his ass, which had already been pretty round and desirable before, was starting to feel like it would burst out of his painfully tight pants at any moment.

Sigma had to sit down for a moment to rest, all this ravenous eating tiring out the young man immensely. He sat with his belly in his lap, rubbing it slowly to try and ease off some of the discomfort from his ever-tightening clothes, when suddenly he felt a hard slap on his fat ass from behind. He yelped in surprise and whipped around to see Dio grinning mischievously.

“Now, now, Sigma, c’mon! We don’t have time for you to be resting on your fat ass!” The blonde man chuckled as he tipped the rim of his top hat towards the pantry drawers. “After all, you said so yourself! The solution is probably related to aaaaaall that food! So you gotta get back to eating as fast as possible, so all of us can get the hell outta here!”

“But, my clothes—” Sigma tried to whine, but he was cut off, this time by a disgruntled Phi. “Ah ah ah, no. Shut up, Sigma. You committed to this stupid plan, and we’re gonna make sure you see it through to the end whether you like it or not.” The girl prodded him in the side with a slim finger, which sunk a couple inches into his flab. “Understand?”

Sigma sighed heavily and hoisted himself back up, almost falling over from his sudden shifting weight. After catching himself with one of the drawers, he opened it and began clearing it of its contents. After another few drawers of food were emptied into his stomach, Sigma heard a snapping noise and felt cool air on his gut suddenly. The release of the building pressure of his lower gut straining against the bottommost button of his shirt was enough for him to realize said button had finally come flying off, which meant the rest were probably soon to follow. The sweet release of his painfully tight cloth prison within sight now, Sigma sped up his consumption considerably, shoveling down packaged pizzas and burgers with ease. Two more buttons went soaring off as he feasted, and his massive gut surged forth like a tidal wave of lard. It flopped over the waistband of his pants and reached almost down to his thighs, his crotch still visible for now. The remaining three buttons at the top of his shirt held strong, but his shirt was being stretched across his chest much further than it was meant to, looking more like an oversized bikini top than a button-up. His chest had fattened up considerably, transforming his huge pecs into even more huge breasts, larger than even Alice’s. With the shirt holding them in place for now, like a bra, they didn’t sag to the sides of his growing gut yet. The seams of the short sleeves were starting to creak and groan from how tight there were against his flabby bingo wings, little diamonds of his arm fat starting to ooze through in small rips. His thighs were starting to do the same to his overburdened pants, seams popping every time he moved his legs even slightly. When he bent down to open a drawer that was closer to the floor, a loud ripping sound came from behind Sigma, and Dio started cackling mockingly. Sigma realized with a cold start that the seat of his pants must have been ripped by his growing ass. His chubby cheeks flushing pink, Sigma’s round face, now accompanied by a full double chin, was hot with embarrassment. He looked down at the drawer he had just opened, filled with packaged cupcakes, and wondered if this was even worth the embarrassment at this point.

Before he could make a decision, though, Phi appeared in front of him and leaned down to grab a package of the cupcakes. She tore it open and popped one into Sigma’s unsuspecting mouth, stifling an exclamation of surprise. She held the package out to him as he chewed on the pastry. “You’re not giving up on your plan already, are you, Sigma. What if this really is the solution? You’re so far into solving it already, may as well see it through to the end, right?” She gave Sigma a reassuring smile, and he immediately felt at ease again despite Dio’s laughing still ringing in his ears. Sigma took the package of cupcakes from Phi and smiled, his chubby cheeks causing his eyes to squint. “Thanks, Phi. It’s nice to know at least one of you believes in me.” She mumbled a response that Sigma didn’t catch, but he was already shoving the rest of the cupcakes in his fat face, so it didn’t matter to him.

Another half an hour had passed, and Dio and Phi had decided to make themselves busy with helping Sigma with his plan instead of exploring the rest of the room. The college student was having some issues reaching the lower drawers now, and walking was getting to be a little bit of a problem too, so they were helping bring him more of the provisions for him to eat. The obese man currently stood with one open drawer at chest level, shoveling the food from it directly into his mouth. His double chin had grown into a triple chin, and his neck was slowly being replaced by rolls of soft fat instead. His chubby chipmunk cheeks had begun drooping, looking more like the jowls of an oversized dog instead. The sleeves of his shirt had ripped open a few minutes ago, setting his wobbling arm fat free. His jiggly biceps slapped against his chest every time he lifted more food up to his mouth. His shirt’s one remaining button strained against his growing moobs, massive tears beginning to form in the fabric stretching across his squishy breasts. His stomach rolls had folded over themselves, forming a three tiered flabby apron that went down to his thighs. The button on his pants had burst off a while ago, and his pants seams were all but gone, just a few threads managing to keep his overfed thighs and beanbag sized ass cheeks from bursting out of them entirely. After finishing the drawer directly in front of his face, Sigma turned his bulk towards the pile of food Phi and Dio had gathered for him, and began waddling towards it. He had to spread his legs uncomfortably far apart to keep his thighs from rubbing together, and even then they still did. He also couldn’t bend his legs anymore, his knees buried under rolls of fat from his jiggly thighs. His oversized ass cheeks, each roughly the size of a couch cushion, drooped down about the same distance as his massive gut, and had lost all semblance of shape and tone, now just two squarish blobs of pure lard. The lowest roll of his apron of a stomach slapped against his thighs with every slow, deliberate step forward, sending his entire body wobbling with each one. It took him three minutes to walk ten feet across the room, and the already massive young man was wheezing for breath by the time he stopped. After catching his breath, Sigma grabbed a package of spaghetti and meatballs off the top of the pile, tore it open, and poured it directly into his fat mouth. Then he did the same for a pizza, a meatloaf, a plate of fish and chips, any and everything in the pile was unceremoniously devoured. The last button of his shirt ripped off its overburdened thread and went flying, narrowly missing Dio’s head. The button pinging off the wall seemed to be the signal the rest of Sigma’s clothing had been waiting for, as every remaining seam burst one after another, sending his massive body surging forth.

Dio turned to Phi as Sigma continued stuffing his face without pause, a look of disgust plastered on his face. “He’s still going! The guy is buck-ass-naked in front of us with only his little boxers on, fat as a whale, and still keeps eating!” The blonde tssked loudly as Sigma began shoving crepes into his mouth. “What’re we gonna do about this lardass?”

Phi cocked her head to one side, thinking. “Well, he’s clearly not going to stop til either all the food is gone, or he can’t reach it anymore, and I kinda want to see how far he ends up taking his stupid idea.” She looked straight at Dio, a smug smirk plastered on her face. “Let’s just help Sigma finish his little job and then we can figure out the room ourselves, without his whining.”

Dio chuckled and gave Phi a conspiratorial wink. “Say no more, little miss. That is fuckin’ devious. I like your style!” He sauntered over to the massive food pile he and Phi had made and began handing dishes directly to Sigma’s greedy hands, his fat sausage fingers immediately grasping anything placed near them and emptying it into his mouth. Sigma’s arms were now so fat that his wrists were starting to sink into his own arm fat, and his pillow-sized arm rolls were constantly squished between his multiple layers of love handles and his massive breasts, thus forcing them to rest at an angle at all times, and making it steadily harder for him to reach his face with his food-filled hands. His face looked like it was slowly being absorbed into his fat body, chubby neck rolls and multiple chins surrounding his drooping jowls which were starting to block his vision somewhat. His chins and neck rolls blended together, flowing down his front like a river of flab, nestled between the valley that was his moobs. Shreds of his blue shirt still clung to his breasts, some stuck underneath the pillow-sized bags of fat which sagged horribly to the sides of his gut now that they were free from their cloth prison. His plush side rolls and back fat were fully on display now, showing clearly how his arms were never going to be able to rest at his sides ever again, and that even if he were to try and lay down, he wouldn’t be able to get flatter than a sitting position with all his multitudes of back rolls propping him up and pooling around his body. The topmost layer of his stomach was wide enough to be used as a bed for a medium sized dog, and was too heavy for anyone to lift even on its own. The middle layer folded over on top of where Sigma’s belly button once was, creating a cavity underneath that was probably almost a foot deep now. The middle and bottom rolls of his enormous stomach were pure lard, soft and jiggly, and very, very heavy. The bottom of the lowest roll reached past his knees now, dangling just a foot off the ground. His legs were as thick as tree trunks now, every inch of his adipose-stuffed thighs and calves touching no matter how far apart he spread his legs. Even his toes were fat now, though they could barely be seen with the mass of flab that was his lower calves slowly starting to engulf his ankles. His misshapen, flabby rear end was almost touching the floor as well, each overstuffed bean bag chair of an ass cheek protruding well over a few feet from his morbidly obese body. His boxers hadn’t been destroyed by their mass yet, but the overburdened underwear looked more like the world’s skimpiest thong, with Sigma’s boulder-sized butt cheeks swallowing the stretched fabric of the garment between their bulbous forms. Phi perched herself on top of one of his massive moobs and started dumping food from the pile directly into Sigma’s waiting mouth, his heavy fat-swaddled arms too tired to lift anything more himself. Dio, being much taller than Phi, merely had to lean against Sigma’s increasingly more squishy side to place more food into his pile of chins, which doubled his rate of consumption considerably. Dio and Phi shared a conspiratorial wink. This was the final stretch of Sigma’s stupid plan!

One more hour passed in the pantry before Phi shoved the last prepacked pie into Sigma’s greedy mouth. She sighed in relief and hopped down off the man’s oversized chest, and stepped back to take in the enormity of her bracelet pair mate. Somehow, despite his incredible size and weight, Sigma was still standing on his own two feet. Whether he could still walk remained to be seen, and Phi didn’t have her hopes up very high for that. The young man was ridiculously obese, probably pushing close to half a ton weight-wise now. A loud belch erupted from Sigma’s mouth, his face a bloated parody of what it used to be mere hours ago. His neck rolls pushed his jowls up around his face, making it look like he was sinking and using a life preserver to keep only his fat face afloat. His arms were so swollen they were barely recognizable, the only hint to their existence as arms being the sausage-shaped fingers poking out from the ends. His massively saggy moobs slumped to either side of his stomach, wobbling with every wheezing breath the mountain of a man took. His love handles bunched up underneath the flab-filled bingo wings of his arms, multiple side rolls forming above his hips that were wide enough to fill an entire sofa by himself. His overstuffed gut now reached the floor, the lowest roll pressing firmly into it even when standing upright. His legs looked like a bursting overfilled sausage casing, his thighs' dimpled fat pressing each other so far apart it was utterly insane that he hadn’t fallen over on his fat ass yet. Especially when you considered Sigma’s ass was so stuffed and loaded with squishy fat that it, too, now almost touched the floor even when he was just standing, and his boxers looked like a few pieces of string stretched across the wide expanse of his cheeks. His feet couldn’t be seen behind his wobbling apron of a stomach, but if they weren’t obscured by that mass of pure flab, they would still not be visible; the fat from his calves had collapsed over top of his ankles, hiding his feet entirely. Overall, Sigma had grown to nearly four times his size in just a few hours of clearing out the entire pantry.

Sigma gazed blearily past his enormous chest and stomach at his teammates, letting out another loud burp. He spoke in a voice that sounded unfamiliar to him, the amount of fat coating his vocal chords causing him to sound huskier, with a deeper voice, and his jowls and chins affecting his speech somewhat. “Did… haah… th’ dooh ohpen? Haah… shohl…ve… th’ puzzshle?” he wheezed. Phi groaned. “Of course you didn’t, you moron! We told you that stuffing yourself wasn’t going to be the solution!”

Dio chuckled and clapped a hand to Sigma’s flabby lovehandle. “Yeah, but we knew you’d never shut up if we didn’t let you try it, so we decided to just let you do your thing, and now here we are!” The blonde man pinched the soft side rolls, forcibly wobbling them back and forth, causing a cacophony of Sigma’s rolls and flaps to slap into each other loudly. The man moaned in discomfort, but Dio continued his torment, delighting in watching the helpless Sigma jiggling all over.

Raising his voice to be heard over the noise of the shockwaves rippling all over his half-ton of flab, Sigma spoke in a husky whine. “Sho then… haah… whuh ah we… haah… gunna do to… haah… eshcape?” Phi patted the lowest roll of his stomach sympathetically before speaking. “Well, Dio and I are gonna figure out how to actually escape this room now. Together. Without you, Sigma.”

The blubbery man burped again before speaking. “But… haah… whuh am I… haah… how do I… haah… help you guysh… haah… sholve it?” He looked upset, like he’d failed both Phi and Dio with his stupid plan by becoming useless to them both. Phi turned her back to him, ignoring his question entirely. Dio stopped jiggling Sigma’s soft side rolls and followed the short woman to see how he could help. Sigma was left standing in the middle of the pantry, the weight of his failure pressing down on his conscience just about as much as the weight of his fat was pressing down on his body. He’d never eaten so much in his life, not even when he was partying constantly in his freshman year of college. How did he think this was a smart idea? He was so stupid! No wonder Phi and Dio let him do this to himself just to get him out of their way. Just before Sigma’s self-pity party was going to get too sad, Phi shouted from across the room. “Hah! Got it! Told you I could handle it, Dio!” She strutted triumphantly back across the pantry towards Sigma’s weighty form, Dio following at a distance, grumbling. “Well, I figured you’d be fine, but I also thought maybe you could use a man’s help. A smart man. Not like big ol’ land whale over there.”

Phi stood in front of Sigma’s stationary form, waving up at his bloated face. “Hey, Sigma! I got the key to get out of here from the safe. There’s some other stuff too but none of it’s of much use to us right now.” The near-immobile man breathed a sigh of relief. At least one of them had managed to solve the escape room. “Thash grea’, Phi!” he said aloud, still surprised at how different his voice was now, “Sho are we leaving now?” He tried to look down at the girl directly in front of him, but couldn’t see her past his enormous gut, moobs, and chins. Phi must have realized this, as suddenly she was jumping in the air and landed directly on his flabby chest, standing in front of his face. She looked him up and down before speaking. “Sigma, do you think you can still walk?”

Sigma wiggled his toes experimentally, nodding decisively as he felt he could still move his feet at least. “I c’n proba’ly walk, yeah. Migh' take me shome time though. Shorry.” Phi patted his jowls reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Sigma. I’ll make sure Dio doesn’t leave without us. Just take your time, okay?” The agile young woman hopped back down, running ahead to keep Dio busy, leaving Sigma to begin his most arduous task of his life: walking a few hundred feet across a room and getting through the door. Slowly he began moving his right leg, the fat coating it shifting past his left leg and slapping against the bottom of his drooping stomach. He moved his left leg forward slowly, essentially walking in a very slow, heavy, exaggerated waddle. His gut touched the floor and the front of his legs the entire way, slapping into his gelatinous thighs every waddling step, sending its entire expanse of rolls wobbling like a pendulum. His shapeless ass cheeks balloon out behind him, jiggling like jello every time he moved even a little. Sigma’s fat face felt like it was on fire, his cheeks bright red and sweaty from the effort of moving around a thousand pounds of fatty flesh across a room. His breath was coming in rasps, mouth agape and panting, his multiple chins wobbling as his chest heaved from the exertion. After something like ten minutes of waddling his fat ass towards the door to escape the pantry, Sigma finally stopped to catch his breath. Taking big wheezing gulps of air, his massive breasts shaking from any slight movement of his chest, Sigma spent another five minutes just preparing to leave the door. Finally, his breathing about as stable as it could be with his lungs being crushed under a half ton of body fat at all times, the enormously overfed man began taking small, waddling steps towards the door. Three.. his thigh slapped loudly against his lowest gut roll. Two… he grasped the door frame with his pudgy sausage fingers. One… he slowly inched his wide body through the door, until suddenly, he stopped. Why am I not moving anymore? He thought to himself, before trying to pull himself forward again. Still nothing. What the fuck was stopping him? He couldn’t turn around to look because his neck was so encased in fat that he couldn’t rotate his head at all, but Sigma didn’t really have to look to guess that the cold metal digging into his soft hips was the door frame, and that his ass was too wide to fit through the door. Well, fuck. That’s not good. Sigma swore internally, before calling out for help. “Hey, Phi… haah… Dio? Haah… haah… there'sh a… haaaaaaah… pro’lem! Pleashe… haah… haah… help?” After a few seconds, Phi returned from further down the hall, Dio not far behind, both taking stock of the situation in front of them. Sigma was fully wedged in the doorway, his massive gut and chest hanging in front of him slightly as his hips, thighs, and couch-sized ass were clearly jammed in the other side of the door. Dio sighed. “All right, big guy. We’re gonna need to get extra help for this. Hold tight.” Sigma whined as the left, calling after their retreating forms, “Guysh, don’… haah… leave me… haaah… behind… haah… buh pleashe… bring… haah… haah… bring… shnacksh… hungry…” Phi stared at Dio incredulously as they ran to find the others. “He just asked for snacks. After all that, he’s still hungry. Unbelievable. Maybe he really will end up the size of a whale before this is all over.”

[bmwiid]

This is going to be a very weird and neiche post about disability and advice and... like, probably not great for some people cause... I dunno. general warnings and angst in my real life warnings?

Also... like... I'm very, very aware of how much I sound like a bitch and an abuser. I'm trying to be honest and I'm not good at it, but I have to vent this or I'll... I dunno. I feel like if I don't get this shit out of me I'll go to bed and just not wake up. so... warnings?

Today I got a call around 12pm from mums carers. She's split her juice over herself in bed and they've stripped the bed, but she's sitting in her wheel chair and she's 'bouncing'.

I don't know what the medical term is cause no one ever bothered to look into it other than: it's not a seizure it's more like narcolepsy but it's not quite that either so meh?

To describe: mum twitches. enough to throw things. she also has mini blackouts, where she'll just... go unconscious for a few seconds. put those two together with a high level of confusion and sometimes 'dreams' (I don't think they are dreams, I think they are hallucinations, because she thinks they are real sometimes, but mum calls them dreams) and you get what we call: Bounces.

Because she looks like she... bounces? in her chair.

So she's real bouncy today, and they are worried, but they also have other people on the run and they don't know what to do, so I leave work and go to mums.

She's bad today. She asks for a drink, which I pour her, and she twitches and explodes a glass over the floor, and herself. I clean her up, she's in a wheelchair so I'm not worried about glass on her feet or anything, but she's taken her pills and needs water to swallow. Another glass hits the floor, legit explodes (I don't know if anyone has ever dropped an Ikea glass on tile but it shatters like Pyrex, it's pretty cool)

I manage to 'feed' her water by holding a glass and lifting it to her lips. during this she almost drowns because she 'bounces' while swallowing.

I move her into the livingroom and give her a cup with a lid and straw (plastic) and start to clean the kitchen of lemonade and glass.

I go back through after 5/10 mins, and shes... bounced again, and now her plastic cup is upside down and juice is pouring out of the straw and...

I'm kinda done. I don't want to make this about me. But also, it IS about me.

This is the third day in a row I've had to talk to carers and nurses and I've got a headache that will not quit and now I have what is essentially a toddler - she's not talking other than garbled words but she understands what I'm saying. She's twice my weight (and I'm not a small enby, people) and I can't do SHIT.

I leave her, bouncing, with the tv on so she's not 'alone' and when I go she's laughing along to Stephen Colbert and I'm over it.

I go to ASDA, I buy three sippy cups. One is like a flask with a straw that flips, one is a weird cup with a silicone top and I have no idea how it works, and one is a straight up sippy cup. With hooked handles and an elephant on it. I know she'd rather DIE than use it.

My plan is: I want her to use the flask and the 'non drip, non spill' blue cup with the weird silicone lid. She will not use this, because she's a fully grown woman, and she's got standards. However, if the other option is an actual BABY BOTTLE... she'll concede that the cup thing is better. If you want someone to pick option B, make sure option A is the fuckin worst.

I also swing by the local greggs because I need to feed her, and she's pickier than I am able to describe, so legit nothing else will work.

I get back to mums, and she's watching tv still, kinda. She asks me if I can get her something to eat when I go to the shops. It takes her about 10 minutes to ask.

I am now magic, as I produce the greggs bags. I hand her the food, and go to wash the new cups (and figure out how this blue one works). When I go back through, she's got the chicken bake all over her hands and face, but she seems to be eating it, mostly. kinda. She's happier though, as she mushes it around.

I show her the new cups I bought, and, as planned, her face is a fuckin picture when she sees the baby sippy cup. She actually recoiled. I show her how the blue cup works (it's actually really cool! I like it a lot! if you have kids who drop stuff, or adults this is the link, I got the one without handles so it looks like a blue plastic cup with lid) and it takes a couple of minutes, but she finally gets how to use a cup designed specifically for toddlers, but whatever. She bounces and the cup lands on her lap but doesn't spill. I'm already impressed, but it hit the floor a few seconds later and it's just the tiniest splash so... I highly recommend. I use a wet wipe to clean her face and hands, but whats the point, really? She squeezes the cheese and onion bake and it bursts over her hands, but she's fine, it's cold now - it won't burn her or anything. I sit on the floor and watch her smush food into her mouth. She forgets I'm still here, laughs along with the tv. she's already forgotten how to use the blue cup, and struggles to drink. I offer help and scare her. She forgot I was here.

Now, I know, if you are disabled, and you read this, I sound like the WORST fucking person you'll ever meet. I'm sorry. I'm at the end of my rope and I can't keep this up. She's my MUM. I love her more than I've ever loved anyone in this world and she's... a toddler.

She's a toddler twice my size. She's a toddler I have no training to manage. I'm not a nurse. I'm not a carer. There is a REASON we have carers, people who have that ability to look after others.

And this is my mum. I love her. I really, honestly, love her.

But she's also NOT a toddler. In a couple of days, she'll be a 63 year old who can talk and look after herself (mostly) and no amount of 'difficult conversations' will make her understand just how bad she gets. How no one on the care team is able to stay with her all day while she is bouncing. I can't do it, not if I want to keep my job, my house. She'll understand, to a certain level. She'll be upset and ashamed and embarrassed... but she won't do anything.

She won't go into a home. She won't move into assisted living. I can't afford a full time carer and the council doesn't have that option. She'll promise she'll 'try harder' which is... not possible. It's not like she wants to be like this, so how will she be ABLE to try harder?

She's not a toddler. She's an adult who I love and respect. I cannot force my mum into a care home. She'd never forgive me. Never.

I just don't know what to do. I'm tired. I'm stressed. I'm upset and I don't have anyone other than my mum, and 50% of the time now, I don't even have her.

my guilt legit feels like it's EATING me.

And I have to go back to work. I've missed 3 hours.

I log back in, take a call. The angry, upset and crying woman on the other side tells me I don't understand. asks me "how I can work for a company that treats people like this" asks me if my mother is proud.

I take a breath. I remember my mum braggin about my good job and my bought house and my paid off car.

I left her smushing food over her hands and drinking out of a sippy cup.

I do my job.

[transitverse]

(UN)SPOKEN

WORDS: 1511 CHARACTERS: Zenith, Dak CONTENT WARNINGS: Very minor drug use, discussion of death

Soundtrack: driftwood - jackson scovel

You've been standing outside for at least fifteen minutes. You've been awake longer, and you keep telling yourself it was just because you needed to take a piss (the grody truck stop bathrooms make Xanadu feel close to godliness), but you're still standing here, and you're not peacefully enjoying the summer air and crickets, either. Being alone with the same thoughts that woke you from a restless sleep isn't helping.

Thing is, you risk waking up Pox or Tech on your way back in. Coupled with the fact that you feel like you might come apart at the seams at the slightest provocation, you don't trust yourself to be able to utter even a few words to them without completely unraveling.

Aaaand that’s when you hear it:

"You okay, there, Z?"

Fuck.

You look up, and, of course, who else but Dak Rambo comes sauntering out of the darkness, cat eyes glinting in the neon light from the store signage. In one hand, a joint you can smell from all the way over here sits between his fingers; the other is tucked loosely into his pocket.

"Yeah! Yeah. Hi." Everything is normal and you are not plagued by disturbingly realistic visions of merciless homicide. "Just, you know, wanted some fresh air. We should get the cabin cleaned properly at some point. No offense, but it stinks in there."

"Hey, that's just part of her character. Trust me, there's some smells in there that no amount of cleanin' is ever gonna get out."

"Gross." You laugh, but you're painfully aware of how hollow it sounds. Dak says nothing more. It's like he knows. Like he's waiting.

Well. If anyone would have an answer to something like this, it's him.

Doesn't make it an easy question to ask. The tension is palpable for the full minute you spend trying to swallow the lump in your throat before you can finally form a calm, coherent sentence.

"Dak?"

"Mm?"

"What do you do when you feel like you might hurt people you love?"

Dak stares pensively; first at you, then off into the distance. The smoke from the cigarette resting between his fingers curls upwards and around his jaw. For a split second, you can feel him teetering on the edge of vulnerability.

"I ain't done nothing but hurt people I love, Z. You're asking the wrong guy."

"C'mon, man."

"Where's this comin' from, anyway? What's got you so worried all of a sudden?"

He looks back at you, and you look away, noting the distinct dryness in your mouth as you stare down at the ground instead.

"I dunno. I was just. Thinking about it."

"About hurting us? You're not about to flip and start putting bullets in us, are you?"

"Don't. Dak. Don't." He nailed it in one and he doesn't even know it. The tears you're only barely managing to keep at bay might not be an immediate giveaway, but the tremor in your voice certainly is. You're trying, hard, so hard not to let your cool-headed veneer slip, but for all the effort, it's a battle you're losing fast.

"Hey, hey, I'm kidding, I'm kidding--"

"But what if I do?" It's supposed to be a bark, angry, aggressive, but your voice breaks mid-sentence, reducing it to a muted whine. "I keep getting these--seeing these things in my mind, where I'm doing that exact shit, and I keep asking, like: what if it actually happens? What if I lose control and someone ends up dead?"

The words just keep coming. You wish they wouldn't. An uncomfortable, anxious heat rises under your skin despite the relatively cool night, bringing with it a wave of nausea that makes you glad you haven't eaten. When you face Dak again, you deliberately blur your vision so that you don't have to see the expression on his face. He's looking at you, you think. He brings his joint to his mouth, takes a pull, exhales a billowing cloud of heady smoke.

"I don't think you're gonna kill any of us, Z."

"It's not that simple, Dak--"

"Zenith. Zenith." Dak claps a heavy hand on your shoulder, and the weight of it knocks the rest of your sentence out of your mouth. "Listen. I don't know what the hell’s going on in your head, all this 'losing control' stuff, but I know you. Just 'cause you're thinking it, doesn't mean it's gonna happen, alright? You wouldn't let anyone else hurt us, and I don't think you'd let yourself hurt us, either. And if you did, well--whatever put you into that state, we'll be right there tryin' to pull you back out."

You tentatively let your vision swim back into focus, but the moment you see the rock-solid conviction on Dak's face, tears start to blur it again. (He has faith in you, so much faith in you, not knowing what you've done, what you can do, what you might do again.) He gently pulls you forward, towards him, and you barely need the invitation; you fall face-first into his chest and sob weakly into his shirt. He smells like weed and sweat and oil and there's maybe nothing else in the world more comforting right now, save perhaps for the hand gently rubbing your back.

"Easy, now, buddy, easy," Dak murmurs softly. The depth of his voice resonates into you through his chest. You coiled your arms around him, it seems, snaked them under his jacket to cling loosely to his vest. He's probably getting ash in your hair. You don't care.

"I just don't want to lose this," you manage to croak. "Don't want to lose you. Any of you. And I don't want it to be my fault."

"Yeah. Yeah." Dak lifts his hand slightly to stroke the back of your neck. Underneath you, his chest heaves a weary sigh. "Welcome to the club."

You stay like that for a while. You don't know how long. You aren't keeping track. Dak's hand remains on your back and you're grateful for its presence, for his presence. For him. For Pox and Tech, too, hopefully both still sleeping and not silent witnesses to your little episode. You've had friends before, but not like this. Not ones you've felt so personally responsible for and not ones who you'd tell your deepest fears to in the dead of night.

Not ones you love.

"Hey." Dak nudges you gently; you open your eyes to see the stub of his cigarette smouldering on the ground by your feet. "You good there?"

"...Yeah." You don't know that that's true, but you do feel a little bit better. Just a little bit. You lift your head and straighten up, sniff, wipe the tear residue off your face. "I. Um."

"S'all good, Z." Is it? You have more you want to say to him, after the admissions he let slip. But Dak pats your cheek, almost playful, and it’s disarming enough in the moment to make you forget. "Go on back inside, now. Get some sleep."

"Uh huh." It takes several seconds for you to recollect yourself, but as you're prying the cabin door open (as quietly as possible; you'd still rather not wake the others), you pause, one foot on the step.

"Dak?"

"Yeah?"

"Love you, man."

He chuckles under his breath, and you wonder if he knows how much you mean it.

"I love you too, Z."

You crawl between the seats once you're back inside and carefully slot yourself back in place, tucked between Pox and Tech in the nest of mismatched blankets you found in the trailer. If they're awake, if they noticed you were gone, they barely show it; the only clue they give is the way they both burrow back into you, pressed close against you on either side. Sometimes it feels oppressive, but not tonight. Tonight, you're glad for the reminder that they're here, real, alive. Safe. You with them, and them with you.

Maybe Dak is right. Intrusive thoughts, as unwanted as they are, are not clairvoyance. You're not predicting the future. You're seeing glimpses of the past entangling themselves with your current state of mind. Yeah. That's it.

...That's not actually comforting.

But Tech's leg kicks against yours, and you think about holding him, bloody and unconscious in the back of the truck. Pox drapes one arm over your chest, and you feel the prickling, defensive anger rippling under your skin when you think about her dad, and how gut-wrenchingly evil he is, and how you'd love to get your hands on him and--well, this train of thought isn't exactly assuaging your fears. But there's a point to it.

If there's one thing you know for certain, beyond all else, it's that you'd fight tooth and nail to keep these people safe.

You fall asleep with Pox's hair in your face, in a cabin that smells like drugs and blood and dirt and worse, knowing you'll ache in the morning from your shitty bed setup.

You wouldn’t let anyone take this from you.

Especially not yourself.

[hitsuackerman]

Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.29

warnings: this cannot be read solo

Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 22, part 23, part 23.5, part 24, part 25, part 26, part 27, part 28, part 30

Masterlist to my other fics: here :) (that has not been updated for how many months now... proceed with caution~)

“And that's about it.” You clicked the send button and stretched your limbs.

You weren’t too sure how many hours had passed but after venting it all out to Tsukauchi, you felt much better. The weight you carried still lingered but your mind was much clearer now. Looking at the office window, the skies were now a shade of pink. Not in the mood for cheap coffee, you stood up and took a peak at Tsukauchi’s desk.

Papers scrawled and pens scattered, Tsukauchi’s head was resting on his arms as he too snoozed off. Finding his sticky notes, you left him a small message telling him where you would be going.

You could always head home and freshen up but with the small window of time, the chief might call you out for being tardy. He’d been leaving you alone for the past few weeks and you hoped it would last a bit longer.

Making your way towards the cafe, you marveled at the emptiness the streets had. Quite some time had passed since the last time you took an all nighter. Now that you think about it, ever since that injury, you have been able to get an adequate amount of rest. Every now and then, food would be delivered followed by a text complaining how you were annoying.

Entering the cafe, you walked towards the counter. Greeted by a rather huge smile, all you could give was a forced one.

“Do you h-”

“Someone already ordered for you.” The cashier said. Telling you to wait, you went to a vacant table and took your phone out. It barely took 3 minutes before she came back holding a paper bag. “Shinoda-san has already paid the bill so you’re good to go~”

“How kind of him…” You took the bag and exited the building. The streets slowly getting congested as the seconds ticked by. Dialling his number, he picked up after the 4th ring. “Thanks for breakfast.”

“I put it on a tab.” Overhaul replied. His voice was muffled by his mask. “Everything I bought for you has been recorded and will be sent to you monthly.”

“That’s just mean…”

“That’s what you get for working overtime and not going home as we had agreed.”

“It was last minute, you dumbass.” You huffed but knew he was teasing. “Are you waiting for me to say ‘I’ll make it up to you. What can I do for you, Chisaki?’ or something like that?”

“Perhaps. It is still quite early but I did come bearing news.” He paused and you could hear papers shuffling. “I feel as though you already know that the Fukuo Kai case will start in about a week or two. I was thinking perhaps we should have a private meeting.”

“With Tsukauchi?” You stopped walking.

“Are you that dense?”

“I’m kidding. What do you wanna do?” Finding a nearby bench, you took a seat and took the sandwich out.

“I recall someone saying that their definition of a good date was something along the lines of ‘You and Me against the world?’”

“Go on…” The smile building on your face couldn’t be kept hidden anymore.

“I’ve booked us tickets. If things go as planned then perhaps the day after the Fukuo Kai case would be a good end to all this.”

“A parting gift I presume?” The smile slowly faded when you remembered what came after. The sandwich now tasted horrible. You waited for him to speak up but there was nothing but silence. “Alright. The day after the case sounds good.”

“I’ll pick you up at 6. Wear something nice.”

Ending the call, you stared at your sandwich. A week or two then once that’s passed, it wouldn’t be long before Overhaul’s case would be pushed to your priority list. Looking back towards the direction of the precinct, you decided to save the sandwich for later.

Now that you were seated and facing your computer once more, you decided to recheck your schedule.

Sure enough, there really was less than 3 weeks left of the Fukuo Kai case before things would finally be handed over. A meeting with the chief was also in store a few days from now to go over the plans for the raid. Upon further scrolling, you noted how Tsukauchi had set up a date for a stake out. Clicking on the attached comment, you wondered as to why it had taken this amount of time for them to make their move.

“You awake yet, Nao?” You knocked on your cubicle.

“Barely.” He grumbled. “What’s up?”

“Regarding this stake out, do you think we can push it to 4 days from now?”

“I’m not really sure. It’ll depend on Overhaul since he will be your partner for that one.” He leaned to take a peek at your station.

“Overhaul? Why?”

“Dunno. I just thought that it’s been a while since you two teamed up.” He shrugged as he dragged his chair closer to yours. “But it’s mostly because my schedule doesn’t fit. I have to meet up with All Might for the whole week. I did ask a few others but you can guess they turned it all down out of fear.”

“Hmm. No surprise.” You tapped your index finger on the mouse. Reminding yourself to call him later regarding the sudden change of plans, you leaned on your chair. “Who’s going to be in this meeting with chief?”

“The two of you and Shinezu.”

“Poor guy.”

“It’ll do him good. Speaking of which, we have to go over the initial plan for the raid. Do you wanna do it today or save it for some other time?” Choosing the first option, Tsukauchi nodded and went back to his desk. Grabbing the necessary documents, he waited for you to prepare and led you towards a private meeting room.

“Now that we're at it,” You took the adjacent seat. “What are the updates? I haven’t really heard anything about them for quite some time now.”

“Heh. Things got a little more complicated during your sick leave.” Sliding one folder, he waited for your reaction. Seeing how your eyes widened, he let out an exhausted sigh. “As if one organization is enough, having to deal with an alliance means more trouble for us.”

“Tsk. Damn it. When did you gather this information? What source did you get this from?”

“Believe it or not, the chief actually did some work and gave us this as some sort of peace offering.”

Peace offering? What was the man planning?

“When did you receive this?” You carefully read the details.

“If I recall, it was the day before you came back to work.” He shyly scratched his nape. “It’s kinda my fault, though. I honestly forgot to inform you regarding this information.”

“It’s fine.” You assured him. “I’m thankful you didn’t relay the information right then and there. So, it says here that we infiltrate them at their headquarters. The information was true? Their headquarters are downtown?”

“That’s right. The intel we gathered showed us that movement around that certain street has picked up. Akuji was spotted as well. He’s been involved from the very start, I presume?”

“Well, he was at that gala and the head of the Fukuo Kai gave him a business card. It’s only logical he is. But to go there in person only means bad things. Any ideas?”

“If it were a higher ups meeting, Overhaul should’ve been there. Unless they know he’s involved with us?”

“He’s not.” Overhaul was shady but you trusted him enough that he would have told you if he were called to attend a gathering. For once, he was in the clear. Or so you hoped. You’d have to inquire about that once you call him later. “My guess is that they too are finalizing whatever plan they have in store. With that being said, have you any clue as to what their main agenda is now?”

“We suspect that their main agenda now is to take over at least 50 percent of the yakuza network. Overhaul’s connections are rather large so they must be feeling pretty confident to make a move now.” Tsukauchi rested his chin on his index finger. “Akuji was one person we saw. The other one was Tamisura.”

“Hmm. Any sighting of Nokusu?” It had been a while since you last mentioned their names. The last time you spoke of them was days before the gala. Tamisura, with the momentum like quirk, and Nokusu with his shadow manipulation quirk.

“None. I am not confident whether or not it is safe to assume that they have declined the invitation to take part with the Fukuo Kai.” He shrugged. “I just kinda wished it was Nokusu we were dealing with and not Tamisura. We barely know anything about her quirk.”

“I’ll ask chief about his encounter.” You answered. “Perhaps the other precincts can provide us with some information. Whether it be big or small, we’ll take it. I do agree with you, though. It just had to be her.”

“Try asking Overhaul too. Perhaps they know something about her.” He watched as you nodded. “As for the plan, there aren’t too many changes from before. Overhaul will have to carry our asses for the last part but I feel as though he can do his part well.”

“I hope so.”

With the minor details now explained, you found yourself walking towards the chief’s office. Closing your eyes and sending off as silent prayer, you only hoped things would be fine. Knocking on the door, he gave you the permission to enter.

“Chief.” You greeted him.

“Oh~ (Y/N).” He closed the folder and motioned for you to sit down. “How can I help my favorite star, hmm?”

“I just wanted to ask you about Tamisura. What exactly did you see regarding her quirk?”

“Ah.” He leaned on this squeaky chair’s back. “Fine woman, I might say. Her quirk made her move at insane speeds. Because of the momentum, it was rather hard to stop her. When she moves, a trail of yellow light follows her. If my memory serves me right, then, I believe it would take her awhile to fully use her quirk?”

“Like charging herself?”

“Don’t take my word for it.” He raised both his hands up. “During that particular instance, one of my men noticed how she kept distance before attacking. Perhaps that’s the downside to her quirk. As for the duration, I cannot give any information.”

“This is more than enough.” You stood up and bowed. “Thank you for the cooperation and I apologize for disturbing you.”

“Anything for you, my star~” He winked.

Suppressing a groan, you awkwardly smiled and hurriedly left the room. Your prayers had been heard and the interaction was clean. The given information wasn’t much but it was something. Taking your phone out, you dialed Overhaul.

Strangely enough, he didn’t answer. Then again, you were sure he was doing whatever he did at 9am in the morning. The mental image you had as to what his activities were were rather vague but you could only hope he wouldn’t indulge in them too much. Who were you kidding? He was messed up. You were too for harboring feelings.

Not wanting to stay any longer, you informed Tsukauchi that you would be heading home.

When you locked your car doors, your phone rang. Checking who it was, you immediately answered it.

“You called?”

“I know it’s sudden but you think you can clear your schedule for me?”

“What exactly do you need, Problem Child?”

“I just wanna ask you a few questions about the Fukuo Kai case.”

“Does it have to be in person?” His voice was rather teasing. Admittedly, you always loved it when he spoke with that tone. “Alright. I shall see you where?”

“My apartment is fine. I’ll arrive there in about 30 minutes, so just take your time.”

“See you then.” He paused at your silence of a few seconds. “What?”

“Bring food! Bye~!” You ended the call immediately. Giggling at the moment, you tossed your phone to the seat and began your drive back home.

- - - - -

Hello everyone! It's me!

I know I haven't updated the story in 3 months? And I apologize :( My family has well recovered from the COVID scare of last year. What took its place was my declining mental health due to my shitty work environment. I could barely write any of my fics and even when I did write a new one, I could only hold on to very little chapters before feeling down and useless T.T

As to the next upload, I am not sure when but I can promise you that the next chapter is currently being written as we speak :) I hope you guys liked the 2 new chapters! and if you enjoyed the whole story, feel free to buy me a ko-fi.. it'll greatly help me :')

See you all in the next update!

PS. I didn't mention the tag list cause maybe ya'll don't want to be tagged anymore hehehe if you do want to be tagged then please feel free to message me or comment :)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Built on a Lie

Prompt: I like the possible idea of Janus being a absolutely crushed to find Roman bleeding out due to a bruised ego in his room after pof was uploaded. After all most Sander Sides Fans hated Roman after he mocked Janus's Name.

Thanks for the prompt, babe! I hope it’s what you wanted!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: arguably roceit i guess??? it’s just focused on them, can be platonic or romantic if you want. same with LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR

Warnings: sympathitic janus even if it might not seem like it, sympathetic feral protective remus, roman is a hurt boi

Word Count: 5010

The wedding is tough.

After the wedding is an ordeal.

After after the wedding…hurts.

The Mindscape is all but deserted. No one wants to come out to the common areas for risk of running into someone who they had…disagreements with or getting swept up in a painfully awkward conversation. Patton lingers in the kitchen, Virgil almost never opens his door, Logan works, and Remus, well…Remus is the only one still behaving as normal.

Janus is grateful for his consistency.

In all honesty, and oh, the irony, he doesn’t enjoy this. He doesn’t enjoy the others walking on eggshells constantly, nor does he thrill at how they seem to jump at everyone, not just him. His point was made. That is his job.

But he’s not so sure he fully anticipated the cost.

At the very least, Logan seems to get over their troubles first. He approaches Janus a few days after the wedding and offers one of his philosophy books. Janus accepts it gratefully and by the time he’s finished it, Logan starts talking again. It’s not the greatest thing for the Mindscape that Logan is willing to talk to the others again.

Patton comes around next, simply because he’s the kindest. Janus pities him a little for it. But sure enough, the common areas start to ring again, drawing Remus out from the depths to cause his chaos.

Virgil appears next, summoned by the repeated calling of Remus’s antics and Janus’s exasperation. And sometimes, well, sometimes it seems like they’re back in their hallway, with Patton and Logan looking on with the air of some bemused anthropologists.

All the Sides reemerge and start trying to figure out what’s going on except for Roman.

Roman is nowhere to be found.

“He…he just needs some more time, I’m sure.”

“Roman is prone to fits of dramatics. It is unsurprising that he chooses to have a repeat performance.”

“Princey’s a bit of an asshole, it’s gonna take him a while to own up to what he did.”

“Catch!”

Janus grunts and staggers under Remus’s weight, eventually getting them both with their feet back under them on the floor. He adjusts his hat and looks disapprovingly at the amount of slime Remus has managed to get all over himself.

“What were you even doing?”

“Exploring the precise relationship of viscera to ventricles inside the heart of a blue whale!” Remus shakes his sleeve. “They lied about how bit the veins and arteries are.”

“How did you—nevermind,” Janus sighs, “I don’t want to know. Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Remus shrugs. “Dunno. Not paying attention.”

“…Roman’s not or you’re not?”

“I’m not!” He flicks some slime at Janus’s hat. “But you should be!”

“Yes, well, when slime starts to emerge from every corner again, I’ll chase you down.”

“Ooh, promises, promises.”

Janus doesn’t hurl some of the slime at Remus as he sinks out.

Roman still hasn’t appeared and the others are starting to notice. Thomas isn’t exactly in a position to do a whole lot of things, but at the very least he’s not doing what he perhaps should have been capable of. Logan notices and at first, chalks it up to the fact that they are in a pandemic; lapses in peak physical and mental performance are not unexpected, but it quickly becomes clear that it’s a little more than that.

The Mindscape grows dimmer, more sluggish. Thomas doesn’t seem to want to do much of anything, let alone work.

“I don’t understand,” Patton mumbles one afternoon when they meet—sans Roman—to try and figure out what’s going on, “I know I’m having a few—um, it’s not Thomas’s feelings that are causing us problems.”

Janus doesn’t make a note of how Virgil quickly presses his arm against Patton’s shoulder.

“There are certain things that are to be expected under times of great stress,” Logan muses, “and certainly any pre-existing problems will be exacerbated, but…this was not anticipated.”

Remus cranks the chainsaw and sets about carving up a new slice of…whatever he’s working on. “We’re in a pandemic, Spectacles!”

“I am wildly aware.”

Virgil stares at the chainsaw—which is fair—then up to Remus. “You ever been in a pandemic before, Remus?”

“Nope!”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Okay, so that makes sense. But L’s right, this feels…weird. Like we’re missing something pretty big.”

In unison, they all look towards Roman’s seat.

The room falls as quiet as it can with Remus’s chainsaw still in the background.

The big, red, overstuffed armchair looks…different, without Roman lounging in it. The blinds aren’t drawn but it looks like the coloring has faded significantly, as though it’s been out in the sun for far too long. The seams look as though they’re struggling and there’s a dark imprint on one of the arms.

It’s not a shock to Janus to discover he’s never really looked at the chair before.

“Has anyone heard from Roman,” Logan asks quietly, “since the wedding?”

Virgil shakes his head, glancing around. Patton looks down at his chest.

“You think this is Roman.” It’s not a question.

“HIs tantrums do not normally last for this long,” Logan continues, adjusting his tie, “and whilst I admit that perhaps our circumstances have contributed more than I anticipated, I do not believe that is how Roman feels.”

“Princey has been away for a really long time.”

“Thomas is starting to get hurt by it,” Patton mumbles, laying a hand on his chest, “I can—I’m starting to feel it a little.”

“So we need to get Princey’s head out of his ass again.”

Logan sighs. “Most likely.”

“I didn’t want to rush it,” Patton says, glancing at Janus, “but you guys are right. I think he’s being selfish now.”

At the word ‘selfish,’ Remus freezes.

The chainsaw splutters and dies to the floor with a heavy clunk.

“Remus,” Patton scolds, “be careful with the…”

He trails off when he notices what the rest of them have.

Remus is standing completely still—an impossibility for Remus—his head tilted back, eyes fixed on a point in the ceiling. His nose quivers, almost like a bloodhound.

His nose twitches.

His lip curls up into a snarl.

His morning star appears in his hand with a growl as he tears off toward the stairs.

“Remus? Remus!”

“Wait!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Remus!”

Janus closes his eyes, reaching out to see if he can tell where Remus is going. His eyes shoot open.

“Roman’s room. Now.”

Virgil grabs Logan and Patton and sinks out.

Janus tries to appear in Roman’s room only to hit something burning cold. He hisses and flinches away from it, only to realize that he hasn’t materialized properly and is stuck. The burning cold reaches further, further, into his scales, digging under them, until Janus yanks himself away and appears, panting, in the hallway outside Roman’s door.

Virgil appears too, still holding the others. “What the fuck was that?”

“Did he block us out?”

“None of us have the ability to do that, other than Thomas.”

“Did he get Thomas to block us out?”

“I don’t know!”

A loud crash jerks their attention to Remus. He raises his morning star again and drives the spikes deep into the bright red of Roman’s door.

…that isn’t nearly as bright as it should be.

Remus snarls again and wails against the door. The wood starts to creak and buckle under the onslaught. He hefts the weapon again and shatters the door with a thunderous crack.

The morning star is hastily flung aside as Remus claws at the splintered wood, yanking it away from the hole he’s made.

The door groans and yields.

Remus rushes through, Virgil on his heels. Patton and Logan attempt to follow only to run smack into both of them.

“Why’d you stop, kiddos, we can’t—“

“Let us through, why did you—“

When those two fight their way through and into silence, Janus sighs and gingerly steps through, nudging Logan and Virgil aside to look at what’s got them so shocked. Roman in the middle of a sobbing mess of tissues, probably, or an empty room signifying he’s gone off on some quest in the Imagination, or even a pouting Roman glaring at them for ruining his door.

He gets around Virgil’s shoulder and his blood runs cold. Burning cold.

If they weren’t in Roman’s room, he’s not sure he’d be able to recognize this as Roman.

His pristine white costume is stained an ugly brown. The gold trimmings fall limply off, hating on by barely a thread. His hair sticks to the floor in horrid, matted clumps. His hands are speckled and stained with more blood, some congealed and crusted from the puddle on the floor. His legs bend at awkward and uncomfortable angles. One of his arms is stretched away from, reaching for something.

Or anything.

They dare not move. They dare hardly breathe.

Remus takes a step forward. Then another. Then another. He circles the body on the floor, not caring about stepping in the blood, crouching down on the far side. His face is drawn, paler than Janus has ever seen it go, he looks sick.

If…if Remus looks this bad—

Remus looks up at the others. His face darkens.

“Explain,” he whispers, his voice low and soft and dangerous, “now.”

No one can find words to even try.

When no one says anything, Remus crouches down and, with a tenderness that shocks Janus, lays his hand on Roman’s side.

“Roman,” he whispers, almost inaudibly, “Roman, can you hear me?”

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Ro-Bro, it’s—it’s me.”

“Wha’re you…here?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Remus growls, looking up at them again, “maybe no one was.”

“’S fine.”

“Roman, it is about the furthest from fine that it could be.”

“…’ve had worse.”

“…okay I was wrong. That is the furthest from fine it could be.”

Judging by the way Roman’s body slumps, his eyes must fall closed again. “You c’n go. D’n’t have to stay.”

“Not on your life.”

“’S fine, Re,” Roman slurs, “the others will…wonder where you are.”

Remus stiffens. His hand tenses on Roman’s side.

“No,” he says softly, “they won’t.”

Roman twitches, his head rolling up. “‘M sorry, Re.”

“What the absolute fuck are you apologizing to me for?”

“Thought they’d…care.” Roman’s head waivers and drop back down. “‘Bout you.”

Patton can’t stifle his whimper.

Roman twitches again. “Wha…”

“They’re not gonna wonder where I am,” Remus growls, “because they’re here.”

Roman’s going to panic. He’s going to freak out and they’ll have to reassure him. Or Roman’s going to be angry and they’ll have to stop him from hurting himself. Or he won’t believe Remus and that…that might be the worst.

…Janus should really stop thinking that.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re they here, Re,” Roman mumbles, his body sagging to the floor again, “‘m I late for s’mething?”

Remus snarls and Roman flinches.

“Don’ be mad, Re, please, ‘m sorry—“

“I’m not mad at you, Roman.”

“But you’re mad.”

“No.” Remus stares at them, his voice still even and soft. “I’m enraged.”

Before they can say anything, Roman hisses and jerks. Remus’s hands instantly flit to Roman, searching for whatever’s hurt him.

“What’s happening, Ro,” he growls, “whose ass do I need to kick?”

“You can’t,” Roman wheezes, “can’ stop it.”

“The hell I can.”

“No, you—you actually can’t,” Roman says, reaching for Remus’s hand, “help—help me sit up?”

“Ro, you’re—I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“’S fine.”

“I don’t think it is!”

“Please?”

Remus sighs, gingerly wrapping his arms around Roman’s bruised and bloody body. “Come on then.”

Roman’s costume clings to the floor and his back as they sit up, the stain darkening and drying on the belly of his tunic. His head lolls against Remus’s chest, breathing heavily for a moment before he finally looks up.

Oh, his face…

It’s an absolute mess. Blood and salt and other things Janus couldn’t hope to figure out cling to every scrap of skin they can as he squints at them.

“You broke my door.”

“You were in trouble,” Remus replies easily, hoisting Roman to sit properly.

Roman sighs, his breath rattling. “Did I miss a meeting?”

“We…” Logan swallows. “We just came from one.”

“Oh.” Roman closes his eyes. “I’ll…gimme a minute, I’ll—“

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I gotta do the meeting, Re.”

“The hell you do.”

“You—you don’t have to worry about the meeting, Roman,” Logan says firmly, taking a step closer, “we—what happened to you?”

“What d’you mean?”

“What does he mean?” Virgil explodes. “Roman, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Roman hisses again. “Don’ have to shout, Virgil.”

“Of fucking course I have to shout! Look at you!”

“I believe that might be more of a reason not to shout,” Logan says quietly. Virgil huffs, balling his hands up into fists.

“What the fuck happened, Roman,” Virgil repeats, “and don’t pretend like you don’t know what we’re talking about.”

Roman sighs again, something whistling, what happened to him?—and sits up away from Remus. “I can’ shout, come closer.”

Logan and Virgil immediately walk forward, crouching down a respectful distance away. Patton takes a moment longer, creeping forward and reaching out a trembling hand toward Roman.

“K-kiddo,” he mumbles, “I’m so—so sorry, I didn’t know—“

“’S okay,” Roman slurs, leaning back against Remus, “’s okay, Pat.”

“Patton?” Logan turns. “What do you know?”

“Yeah, Patton,” Remus growls, “why don’t you tell us.”

Patton shrinks back. “I—I—“

“Shh,” Roman mumbles, clumsily patting Remus’s hand, “don’ do that, ’s okay.”

“No, Roman, it’s not.”

“...kiddo?”

Roman nods.

Patton takes a deep breath. “You guys know that—how Roman gets hurt sometimes when Thomas does something that, uh, doesn’t turn out great?”

“We all get hurt, Pat,” Virgil says, “that doesn’t explain this.”

As if on cue, Roman hisses again.

“No, no, Virgil,” Patton mumbles, “it’s—Roman’s the only one who gets physically hurt when this stuff happens.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he looks at Roman’s injuries. “Of course…”

Despite everything, Roman smiles tiredly up at him. “Figure it out?”

“You’re the Ego,” Logan mumbles, “and thus it follows that you would get…bruised.”

“Wait, that’s a literal thing?”

“Apparently so.”

“Jeez, Princey,” Virgil mumbles, “you coulda told me.”

“You were busy, didn’t wanna give you anything else to worry ‘bout.”

“That’s not—Roman—“

“But Thomas has been inside,” Logan interjects quickly, “alone, he hasn’t—we haven’t done anything since the pandemic began.”

“It’s a pandemic, Lo,” Roman says, “no one’s doing much of anything…besides staying inside, reading things, watching things…”

“So how is this happening to you, Roman,” Patton says, wringing his hands, “what—what’s doing this to Thomas?”

“Fuck,” Virgil says, burying his hands in his hair, “Princey has this been happening to you since the wedding?”

“Mm,” Roman hums, leaning heavily against Remus.

“People are watching the video,” Logan whispers, “and they’re—well, they’re talking about it.”

“Are they—are they still saying Thomas should’ve…” Paton gulps. “Done something different?”

Logan shakes his head. “I’m sure they are but Thomas…Thomas hasn’t been looking at the comments from the video, not really. Virgil and I have specifically told him not to.”

“So then why is Thomas still being hurt by it? Why are people still attacking Thomas?”

“Not—“ their heads all jerk around to look at Roman— “not Thomas.”

He waves a hand at himself.

“Wouldn’t be like this if it were them attacking Thomas.”

“Then what—“

“They’re attacking you?” Virgil’s eyes go wide as they scan over Roman’s injuries. “Directly?”

“Mm.”

“Oh, kiddo—“

“Princey, what the hell—“

“Why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve—“

“What for?”

In response, Roman’s eyes raise slowly, and look at Janus.

Everyone else follows, looking back toward the door, realizing that Janus hadn’t moved closer with the rest of them.

Roman’s gaze isn’t cold, but it makes him feel cold.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“My name,” Janus breathes, “it’s…they’re mad at you because of me.”

“Told you,” Roman slurs as his eyes close again, “gotta come closer. Can’ shout like this.”

Janus swallows heavily, his throat dry, clutching his cloak tightly around him as he edges closer. Roman mumbles to himself until Janus is close enough to hear him.

“There we go…” He cracks a bloodied eye open. “You’re right. They’re angry at me. Rightfully so, but…yeah.”

“Because you made fun of my name?”

They all rush forward as Roman keens, his hand flying to his gut and hissing.

“Fuck, Princey, is it—is it still happening?”

“Mhm.”

“How do we—how do we stop it?”

“Can’t,” Roman mumbles, “wasn’t lying. Nothing you can do. Not until it’s over.”

“It’s been ages since the wedding, Roman, how much longer is this going to go on?”

Roman makes a vague noise of ‘I don’t know.’

“But—but—“ Logan looks frantically back and forth between them— “surely they can’t all be angry at you, that would be—“

“They’re not,” Roman mumbles, “not all of them, but it’s—it’s most of them.”

“How is that possible?”

“Some of them really don’t like me—“ Roman hisses again— “some of them really like J-Janus or Remus or…or Logan, or Patton—“

“What?”

“What does that have to do with—“

“And some of them just think that it’s—what I did was—“ Roman stifles a whimper, biting his lip— “really bad.”

“But then why…why aren’t the rest of us being affected like this?”

“You’re not the Ego.”

Remus snarls again as Roman jerks, a new bruise blooming on the underside of his neck.

“…ow.”

“We have to get you cleaned up,” Logan mutters shakily, trying to stand.

“Not much point right now,” Roman sighs, absentmindedly nuzzling into Remus, who tightens his grip protectively around Roman, “‘m just gonna get all messy again.”

“Not if we stay with you,” Logan promises, “not if we help.”

“…don’ have to.”

“What the hell are you—“ Virgil shakes his head. “Of course, we’re gonna help you, Roman.”

Roman just looks at them and closes his eyes.

“Ro—kiddo,” Patton says, reaching out for him, “why don’t you believe us?”

“You haven’t exactly…done that before.”

“We didn’t know!”

“You did.”

Patton’s retort dies in his throat. He looks desperately around for something, anything—

Janus is in shock.

Roman…oh, Roman…Janus knew Roman was the Ego, but he didn’t—he hadn’t—

Fuck, were the bruises from what he said still there? Not—not just that awful, awful thing about comparing Roman to Remus, but…from before?

How many times had Janus hurt Roman…and hadn’t cared?

“…I’m sorry, Roman,” Logan murmurs, breaking the silence, “will you let me help now?”

Roman looks up at him. “I’ve been awful to you,” he mumbles, “you don’—don’ have to apologize.”

“Yes, I do,” Logan says, “because you’ve been wonderful to me too…and I am not blameless in this either.”

“But they don’t know that.”

“I do,” Logan says firmly, “and they will.”

The smallest smile tugs at the corners of Roman’s mouth as Logan stands up to go fetch the first aid kit.

“Princey, I—Roman,” Virgil stammers, “fuck, you—oh my god—“

“I’ve been awful to you too, Virgil.”

“And I’ve been fucking worse right back!” Virgil squeezes his hands tight. “And I—you’re the only one who gets yelled at for it. Fuck, I’m—I’m so fucking sorry, I’m gonna—can I help too?”

“…if you want.”

“I’m gonna go help Logan get the shit,” Virgil mutters, getting to his feet and tearing out after Logan.

“…oh, kiddo…”

Patton’s eyes begin to tear up.

“I thought—I thought you needed more time—“

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Pat,” Roman manages, “it’s not fun, trust me.”

Patton’s laugh comes out more like a sob.

“I won’t hold it against you, and you can—“ Roman hisses again— “help if you want.”

“Do you think you can drink something?”

“…I’ll try.”

Patton’s gone in a flash.

Janus looks at Remus. Remus glares at him and pulls Roman closer.

“…we should…try and get some of that off,” Janus tries, “so we can see what, um…”

Remus’s stony silence as Roman starts to drift again cuts off Janus’s words.

“…Remus…”

“You are very, very lucky,” Remus whispers, cutting him off, “that I’m not about to leave my brother’s side for a long time.”

Janus nods.

“Start on the buttons,” Remus says, “at his wrists. I’m not sure how much of this we can save.”

He immediately sets to work, trying to communicate how sorry, sorry, sorry he is with every gentle brush of his fingers against Roman’s skin. Remus summons something for them to lean Roman against as they start to gingerly remove the tunic. It’s worse than Janus thought.

Roman is one big pulsing wound, little nicks here and there and varying shades of purple, red, green, yellow, all coming from one massive sore in the center of him. As they watch, more injuries appear, little bruises that make his breath hitch, and occasionally a small swipe along his ribs. As Janus works the cuff over his wrist, one of his fingers blackens and swells as it breaks.

“Oh, Roman…”

“Sit up, Ro,” Remus whispers tenderly, peeling and unsticking the tunic from his back, “okay, there we go. Are most of them…up here?”

“They all look to be coming from…that,” Janus says, indicating the giant wound, “so…”

And indeed, as they watch, Roman keens again and the wound deepens, more blood beginning to trickle out.

“Are all of these—“ Janus indicates the injuries littering Roman’s body— “comments?”

“Mm.”

“Then what—why is this one…?”

Roman’s eyes drift closed and his head lolls back.

“’Oh, Roman, thank god you don't have a mustache.”

No.

No.

“’Otherwise, between you and Remus—‘” Roman winces as the wound digs deeper— “‘I wouldn't know who the evil twin is.’”

…no…

Janus reaches out a trembling hand and lays it next to the wound. It’s…it’s warm under his touch but…wrong.

A snarl jerks his hand back and he looks up to see Remus glaring at him.

“Remus—“

“Save it.” Remus glances toward the door. “The others will be back in a moment anyway.”

Sure enough, Logan and Virgil bust through the broken door, their hands full. Logan immediately sweeps his gaze over Roman and kneels down, reaching out.

“May I touch you, Roman?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you.” Logan slots a hand gently behind Roman’s hand. “We’re going to try and get the blood off of you first, alright?”

“Mm.”

“This might sting,” Logan cautions, starting to rub an antiseptic towel down Roman’s arm, “my apologies.”

Virgil takes another one and carefully cleans Roman’s other arm, mindful of his broken finger. As they work, Patton reappears, holding a bottle of water and a glass of juice.

“Come on, kiddo,” he says softly, taking Logan’s place behind Roman’s head, “drink this for me?”

Roman manages a few sips of each.

“Good job, kiddo, there you go…” Patton glances down. “Does it seem to be stopping at all?”

As if it can hear him, the wound starts to bleed again.

“Oh, Roman…”

Logan glances between the wound and Janus, his brow furrowed.

Please, Logan, for once…don’t be so smart.

The way Logan’s eyes widen and narrow say that it’s too late.

“This one seems to be the origin,” Logan says instead, turning away, “all the others seem to stem from it.”

“Okay,” Virgil mutters, “so what’s that one?”

Janus’s mouth runs dry as Logan turns to him expectantly.

“Well,” Remus growls, “go on.”

“I don’t—what if it just makes it worse?”

“That didn’t stop you before.”

“I didn’t—“

“Oh, shut up,” Remus cuts him off, “you knew. You knew.”

“Remus—“

“You wanna know how I know that?” Remus draws away from Roman just enough to clench his fists. “Because I found you after the wedding. You were all curled up on the floor and you were so upset.”

Roman stirs. “…Re…”

“And I asked you why, and you said it was because Roman made fun of your name,” Remus continues, “and I thought: ‘huh, that feels a little weird. Where have I heard that before?’”

Patton shrinks out of Remus’s line of sight.

“Then I remembered! The courtroom,” Remus continues, a manic smile on his face, “and your little plan to make sure Roman felt like he had no idea what was going on.”

“…J, what is he talking about?”

“Oh, he’s not going to tell you,” Remus says, “but I will.”

“Remus—“

“You said that you knew Roman,” Remus says, talking right over him, “and you knew that if you pushed him in the right direction, you’d be able to get him to listen to you easily.”

Even Logan pauses.

“Do you remember what you said, Janny?” Remus’s eyes bore into Janus’s mind. “Do you?”

“…Remus, please.”

Remus’s grin drops.

“You said,” he whispers, “that if you just fucked with his name, he’d be in the palm of your hand.”

And he was.

"Conveniently, everyone seems to have forgotten that. Forgotten what you did. Or they don't care."

Remus tightens his grip on Roman. 

"But not me."

Guilt presses hot and thick against Janus’s throat. Unbidden, huge, fat tears start to form in his eyes as he stares at the wound on Roman’s gasping chest. Distantly, he thinks he can hear the others muttering but all he can think about is how much of this is a lie.

Roman isn’t the evil twin.

Roman isn’t Remus.

Roman isn’t stupid.

Roman isn’t worthless.

Roman isn’t a toy or a puppet or a tool.

Roman isn’t selfish or greedy or arrogant.

Roman is hurt and scared and Janus is so, so sorry.

He lets out a growl of his own and presses his hand hard to the wound.

Lie. Lie.

This is a lie.

Truth is hard and unyielding and painful but nothing is more painful than knowing that all of this is built on a lie.

Janus grits his teeth and concentrates, his hands trembling as he presses it against the wound, searching, searching for—

There.

He closes his fist around the lie and yanks, pulling the words and the hurt and the ache out of Roman’s chest in a bright flash.

When it’s gone, Roman’s chest is heaving, bruises still littering his torso, but the big wound is nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Janus clenches his fist until the lie shatters into pieces, the shard disappearing into harmless puffs of air.

He looks back.

Logan and Patton are staring at him open-mouthed. Virgil has his hands bunched up in his hoodie. Remus just stares at him, his face unreadable.

And Roman…

Roman looks up at him, panting too, but it doesn’t feel quite so wrong anymore.

“I can’t promise that this one won’t hurt you ever anymore,” he vows, “but I can promise that it will never have that much power again.”

Roman reaches out a hand. Janus lets him pull him closer.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, “I’m sorry.”

Janus huffs. “I can also promise that you’re not nearly as sorry as I am.”

They let their eyes fall closed as Janus’s hands steady Roman, landing lightly on his sides and just resting there. Roman tips forward and his forehead lands against Janus’s.

For a second, the room just breathes.

“Can we clean you up,” Janus whispers, “the rest of the way?”

“L-Logan?”

“I’m right here, Roman,” Logan says instantly, “what do you need?”

“Can I—wanna sleep.”

“I don’t think you’ve got a concussion, so that should be alright…” Logan glances at Patton. “Let’s have you drink a little more and then you can rest, hmm?”

“Okay.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton coaxes, “here we go…”

As Virgil and Logan set about cleaning again, Janus runs his hands slowly over every injury he can, plucking out what little lies there are and sending them away. He can tell by the weight of Remus’s stare on him that he’s not in the clear yet, but the way Roman starts to sag slowly makes it easier.

“Alright,” Logan murmurs after a while, “I think that’s all we can do.”

“…sleep?”

“Yes, Roman, you can sleep now. Would you like us to help you to your bed?”

Roman blinks, his hand reaching out for— “Re?”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“Re…” Roman mumbles sleepily as he all but collapses into Remus.

“…yeah I’m okay with that.”

Logan jerks his head towards Roman’s mattress. Together, they drag it down to the floor and help Remus get Roman onto it. Logan murmurs that he’s going to go put the first aid kit away, but that he’ll be right back. Patton gathers up the glasses and leaves with the same promise.

Virgil glances back and forth between Remus and Janus.

“…you guys remember that this is about what Roman needs, right?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay good.”

Virgil reaches out to brush a little of Roman’s hair out of his face.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Neither am I.”

Logan and Patton reappear at the door and slot themselves in around the mattress. Remus looks at Janus.

Janus deliberately sits between Roman and the door, something he’s seen Remus do too many times.

Remus nods.

This conversation is far from over, but right now…

Right now, Roman mumbles sleepily and grabs onto Remus’s sleeve.

There is truly so much that they never see, isn’t there? Logan wasn’t wrong, the amount of Roman that’s never been on camera is truly staggering.

Janus has let that lie of omission cause too much damage for too long.

Right now, he’s got work to do.

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[reneesi]

i never would have thought // CH.09

WRITTEN PORTION

“Pic-nic! Pic-nic! Pic-nic YAY!” (Y/n) chanted out in glee, practically floating as she skipped atop the gravel path. Yachi giggled at the display, linking her free arm with (Y/n) and shooting her a toothy grin. 

The three Karasuno volleyball managers had been planning a girls day for a couple weeks, and this was the first free Saturday since (Y/n)’s photoshoot. They had set out on a quest to have a sunlit lunch beneath the trees. Yachi, carrying a blanket under her arm, had dressed up in a white sundress and left her hair down. In contrast Kiyoko was sporting a long brown patterned skirt and a black tank top, her slender fingers were wrapped around the handle of a round picnic basket. (Y/n) had been charged with bringing the drinks, hence the kitty cat backpack draped across her shoulders. She’d brought ramune and completed the trio’s aesthetic with a midi dress and white t-shirt underneath. 

When they’d found a quiet spot under a large tree that provided some semblance of shade, the three worked together to set up their picnic. Ten minutes later they sat on a soft pastel checkered blanket, drinking cold soda, and relaxing under the shreds of sunlight peeking through the leaves above. 

“I should have brought my camera.” (Y/n) sighed longingly, a content smile splayed across her features.

“We can always take pictures on our cell phone Hinata-chan!” Yachi piped up.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s just so beautiful here.” (Y/n) sung, leaning back into her arms which were placed out behind her, providing support. She let the lids of her eyes fall shut as her head tipped back lazily, enjoying the weather which felt absolutely divine. 

The heat was starting to become more bearable given that fall was right around the corner, but the sun still shone just as bright, leaving a warm residue in the afternoon air. Gentle breeze blew through the grass, running its slick fingers through the field and up to (Y/n)’s hair, cooling the sweat that threatened to build at the nape of her neck. As (Y/n) sat there, eyes closed and listening to the grass blades jostle against one another, Yachi and Kiyoko launched into a quiet conversation about club duties and then Sugawara and Daichi’s relationship. It was calm and easy, both speaking only words of kindness in low peaceful tones. 

“How long have they been dating?” (Y/n) asked, cutting in as her feet finally touched back down to earth.

“About three months I think, but they’ve both had feelings for a long time,” Kiyoko smiled.

“I'm so glad they finally did start dating, they make such a good couple!” Yachi gushed, clasping her hands together “But I can't imagine what the confession must have been like, confessions have always made me too nervous!” 

Yachi’s hands flew up to hold her cheeks as they flushed red at the mere thought of such confrontation, Kiyoko giggled along. 

“Yeah, confessing sounds stressful.” (Y/n) pondered aloud, tapping at her chin.

“Is there someone you have in mind?” Kiyoko inquired innocently, cocking her head slightly to the side. (Y/n) looked back in confusion.

“In mind..?” she repeated, still perplexed.

“Someone you ‘wouldn’t’ want to confess to!” Yachi giggled, scooting closer to (Y/n) and shooting her a suggestive smirk. (Y/n) felt her cheeks grow warm, sure that the pink on her features would only spread if the conversation continued.

“I-I.. well not, I mean-“ (Y/n) tried. She kept her gaze lowered towards her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt.

“Aww it’s okay Hinata-chan! We were just teasing, sorry!” Yachi laughed, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“No, no! I mean, what I was trying to say before is that there isn’t anyone that I’m interested in right now! At all!” (Y/n) finally spluttered out, a little louder and a lot more aggressive than she’d intended.

“What about Tsukishima?” Kiyoko asked evenly, soft tones failing to cushion the bluntness of her sudden inquiry.

 (Y/n) paused for a moment, thinking back to the conversation of the previous night. Even if she had somehow started to develop any sort of feelings it didn’t really matter since she couldn’t tell if Tsukishima actually even wanted to be friends. He was always so confusing..

Finally, (Y/n) shook her head.

“We’re just friends.” She assured, face calming back to its gentle rosy cream. Kiyoko studied her for a moment before nodding.

“You guys seem to be getting along much better lately.” Kiyoko smiled lightly, easing herself down to lay on her side. 

“I hope so... the truth is I can’t blame you guys for thinking there might have been something there on my part.” (Y/n) laughed diffidently, “I was just always so nervous that he’d hate me so I ended up getting all tense and acting weird around him.... hopefully he didn’t notice.”

(Y/n) let out a long sigh.

“Why would you think he might hate you?” Yachi asked, confusion dotting her words.

“He’s just so far away from everyone. Back home things were so different, and I guess I got accustomed to reading people a certain way. So when he was all cold I thought I'd... I dunno, done something wrong..?” (Y/n) shrugged, Kiyoko nodded thoughtfully.

“That makes more sense, and you really don’t have to tell us but what exactly was back home... like?” Kiyoko questioned hesitantly. She’d taken her time to ask the question in a way that was sweetened and less direct, hoping to create the least amount of discomfort. Regardless, (Y/n)’s shoulders tended slightly.

“It was...” She trailed off, as Yachi reached over and placed a comforting hand on her thigh.

“It’s okay, you really don’t have to say,” Yachi said softly. (Y/n) shook her head and continued

“No it’s okay. It was just a completely different world. I’ve never really talked about it, and I’m not sure how much Shoyo has told you guys, but I grew up in a really... wealthy... family.” (Y/n) paused, averting her eyes. 

She always hated talking about that part of herself, the part that made people uncomfortable and the environment shift into a stiff stillness that never had the room for friendly connection. The same type of air that suffocated her to near death back home. The silence began to weigh down into her spine, so (Y/n) continued.

“The culture, it’s j-just really different.. and well my parents wanted me to be something.. someone that I wasn’t. They wanted me to dress a certain way, act like I was perfect, and just let people walk all over me. And I just didn’t want that, so I kinda took every opportunity to show them that.” (Y/n) laughed to herself reaching up to touch her long brown locks instinctively. 

“That’s actually why I dyed my hair brown,” she continued “in rebellion. And I did a bunch of other stupid things like rip up clothes and wear make up I knew they’d hate. Mostly though, I would argue with them... and one day they kind of realized I wasn’t gonna give up and I think my Mom.. she realized I was really unhappy..” 

“I-i’m really sorry (Y/n)..” Yachi said quietly. (Y/n) looked up and met her eyes, forcing a smile.

“It’s okay, don’t be. I’m here now and I’m really really happy! Happier than I’ve ever been!” (Y/n) smiled wide and held up a thumbs up 

“We’re glad you’re here too.” Kiyoko said softly as Yachi leaned to lay her head across (Y/n)’s lap. (Y/n) stroked through the stands of blonde lovingly.

“That’s why I wanted everyone to like me so much. I never really felt like I fit in back home.. everyone wanted that lifestyle of fake smiles and champagne.. I..” (Y/n) furrowed her brows, 

“I just wanted to be free.” She said definitively, looking up to find Kiyoko’s approving smile still beaming her way.

“How did you convince them to let you come?” Yachi asked suddenly, pulling (Y/n)’s eyes back down to her lap.

“We made a deal. They agreed to let me stay here through highschool as long as I go to the college they choose and marry the person they want me to.” (Y/n) explained, light disappointment visible through the cracks of her syllables.

“(Y/n)...” Yachi whispered, big teary eyes peering up at the brunette as Yachi reached up to touch (Y/n)’s face. (Y/n) smiled placing her own hand over Yachi’s which now rested against her cheek. 

“It’s okay,” (Y/n) said, glancing up at Kiyoko who was giving her a similar look of sympathy “Really!”

“I've never really believed in love much so it’s not like I was waiting around for my soul mate.” (Y/n) reassured.

“But what if you meet someone and-“ Yachi spoke up

“I just wanna have fun while I’m here and try to make the most of it.” (Y/n) cut her off, smiling softly in such a way that Yachi and Kiyoko quickly understood the topic wasn’t open for discussion. Kiyoko began talking about college applications and careers and the weight of vulnerability finally began to wear off of (Y/n)’s shoulders. As the trio fell back into their easy jokes and conversations they pulled out trays of sushi and dried seaweed, giggling in unison as they shared light hearted memories. 

Eventually, when the sky had turned into a sea of warm colors and fluffy watercolor clouds, (Y/n) felt a buzz in her pocket. She was forced to pull away from the conversation and check her text messages.

“Who’s it from?” Yachi asked, leaning over (Y/n)’s shoulders to peer at her screen.

“It’s Noya-senpai he said to look behind-“

“KIYOKO!!!!” A bellow erupted over the outstretched field behind (Y/n), as stampeding footsteps grew louder. The three managers snapped their heads towards the sudden noise, eyes wide, as three figures came into view. 

“HINATA-CHAN!!” Nishinoya screamed, a geeky smile splashed across his lips feeding up to the crinkles in his eyes. Faux tears were streaming from Tanka and Nishinoya as they ran towards the trio at full speed, arms outstretched before them. Behind them Yamaguchi was carrying a volleyball looking sheepish, a light blush tinting his cheeks as he waved a small hello. 

(Y/n) began to stand only to be tackled to the ground by both Nishinoya and Tanaka. She screamed as they trapped her in an overbearing hug.

“You idiots that hurt!” She laughed, pushing them off of her as she sat up and bonked both their heads simultaneously. They immediately wrapped their arms around her once more.

“We missed yOU SO MUCH!!” Nishinoya cried.

“We were just too jealous of your picnic, we couldn’t help but crash it!!” Tanaka wept, pulling away and leaning back to look at Kiyoko.

“Please don’t be mad~” He said to her, giving the upperclassmen puppy dog eyes. Kiyoko bit back a smile and maintained her aloofness, even if barely so.

“Don’t look at me, this picnic was Hinata-chan’s idea.” She said matter of factly, Tanaka turned back to (Y/n).

“C'mon please leT US STAY WE JUST WANNA BE WITH OUR PRECIOUS MANAGERS!” Tanaka bawled, throwing his arms around (Y/n) yet again. She sighed in feigned annoyance.

“Hi hi Hinata-chan, Kiyoko-senpai, Yachi-san.” Yamaguchi cut in, finally catching up to his friends under the tree. He placed the volleyball down gently before taking a seat next to Yachi, bumping her shoulder lightly with a smile. (Y/n)’s heart surged and she bit her lip to conceal the smile threatening to burst out.

“Fineee, you guys can stay.” She sighed, drawing it out a little too much. Tanaka and Nishinoya rejoiced, jumping to their feet as they chanted on about being accepted into the “managers only” hang out. The six team mates sat under golden sunlight, cracking jokes and chatting mindlessly until the sun set. 

That is until Nishinoya’s energy got the best of him and he and Tanaka insisted on showing (Y/n) how to receive and serve. Which might have been a great idea if Tanka and Nishinoya weren’t such terrible teachers. In the end Yamaguchi went home with a bruise on his head and (Y/n) vowed to never touch a volleyball again. She swore everyone to secrecy over Yamaguchi’s injury, praying that Tsukishima wouldn’t find out and kill her over it. Too bad Yamaguchi was a terrible liar.

CH.09 II pic-nic date!!

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Tagslist: @domtamaki​ @kodzu-ken​ @clowninfortodoroki​ @kageyamasbabygorl​ @miya-yume​ @chaelysian​ @kittyddandnyla​ @chaseyui​ @it-was-just-a-ship​ @melanie09astrid​ @naorii-chan​ @chaoticalybiased​ @saltyteefff​ @aristatrois​ @iamthepenguinwhosearseisonfire​ @raineedayze​

[needs-to-stop-looking-at-yigas]

okay first off your writing is SO GOOD!!!!!! but i was wondering, since in most of the works so far some of the other yiga are kinda mean, could we get sooga and/or kohga bonding with a newer recruit? like they’re having a rough time adjusting and it’s just tender and sweet

One, the yiga aren’t exactly mean. It’s levels. See, the foot soldiers are very kind and respectable to Sooga, for his status, and devotion to Kohga. The Blade masters are hard on Sooga because he was once one of them. As such, they’re VERY competitive with one another, and accept nothing less than perfection from one another. The Blade master’s aren’t bad guys, they’re just way more heavy handed. Trust me, if push came to shove, these guys would have Sooga’s back.

And two, there’s actually a mission in aoc that kiiinda has something in those lines. It’s where a yiga member misses home, so you give him veggies to remind him of home (think it gives Kohga an extra heart???), so let’s do it based of that guy!

“Rounds, once more! Let’s go!”

Whenever Sooga wasn’t serving Kohga, he was busy tending towards the soldiers' training. He was busy training the newest recruits, and it was quite a solid lineup so far. Quick, devoted, opportunistic. Just what the clan needed. All but one. The one who seemed to be the most distracted. He was the newest one of the pack, having just joined the clan yesterday. He was slow, he kept tripping over himself, he kept fumbling. It was odd, given the fact that just the day prior, he was near the front of the pack. He tripped up yet again in the course, unable to dodge the obstacles set before him. He was about to get up and try again, when he looked up to see Sooga peering over him.

“Not you. Get up, follow me. Rest of you, follow HIS orders!”

He left the newbies to his own second hand, a man who was close to being Master Kohga’s right hand (long story). The footsoldier stood up, following Sooga. He stayed close to his side, less he got lost in the maze of the base. He then stopped into one of the storage rooms, shutting the door behind them. He looked down at the meager creature before him, and he couldn’t help but scoff. He didn’t look down on him for being on the lower rung of the yiga ladder, but for the fact that he wasn’t giving everything he had to the clan.

“Explain yourself.”

“I don’t, uhm-”

“You will look at me in the face.”

“You mean mask?”

He chuckled, but when Sooga didn’t do the same, he shrunk a bit. He fiddled with his fingers, clearly nervous under such an intense gaze. He went silent. Sooga fought the urge to sigh.

“You are now a member of the Yiga clan. Therefore, your devotion must be unlimited, and unwavering. Unless you are injured, you give all your body has to the clan. Do you understand?”

He messed with his fingers again, and Sooga couldn’t help but notice just how young he was. But a boy, in Sooga’s eyes. 

“I’m sorry. I know I said I wanted to join, and I’ve already sworn devotion to Kohga. But I just...I’m distracted.”

“Explain.”

The soldier hugged himself, clearly going into something uncomfortable.

“I...I dunno. I’m used to having a mom, and a dad, and my sister. I’m used to sitting down and having warm meals in my own bed, I miss playing with my friends. I miss my village, I miss the goats, the horses, even the cherry trees. I even missed being called by my own name, Alfo-”

“You do not speak your former name. You learn to look without a face, and to be silent, even when asking for help. You and your team must be in sync, and you could ruin it in your longing. Do you understand?”

He looked up at him, before nodding. Life in the yiga clan was not easy. He too, joined the clan, and felt the confusion. He too, yearned for his home way back when, and even now, he’d turn if he thought he heard someone speak his name. It was rough, especially at this young age. No one was to know of another member's past, aside from Sooga, but from what he gathered, his parents died, and his sister had gone missing. He needed resources, needed a place to stay as he searched for her. It was a noble dream, that much was certain. Sooga wanted to bark at him once more, before his heart seemed to recall what compassion was.

“Look. Perhaps you need independent training, until you grow comfortable with the other’s. I will train you myself.”

“Are you...serious? Really?”

The boy looked damn excited, but he stopped bouncing on his feet the second Sooga cleared his throat. This was going to take some work, it seemed, before this foot soldier could properly represent his clan. Still holding a chipper attitude however, he was sure to make the other aware of how important this offer meant to him.

“You will NOT regret this, Sooga! Not for one-”

He seemed to forget the door was closed, causing him to hit his face against the door, and swear under his breath. Sooga sighed. This was going to be a challenge, for certain.

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

“Good, good. Again.”

Sooga was surprised how effortless this suddenly seemed to be. The little one started their training with more rants of home, more longing for what was once his life. Sooga, instead of telling him to hush and focus, allowed him to rant. It improved his skills considerably. His feet danced across the floor, his dodge timing was perfect, and although Sooga blocked them, his attacks hit their marks every time. He even managed to dodge one of his attacks, which was rare on someone so low on the yiga clan ladder.

“Right!”

Armed with but a Vicious Sickle, the young one found himself standing toe to toe with Sooga, enough so, that when their weapons locked together, the boy didn’t immediately fall over from his massive weight. Course, Sooga eventually gained the under hand, shoving him, and forcing him to drop his weapon. He looked ready for backlash, cowering as he stood there, when Sooga nodded.

“Nicely done. You lasted far longer than most. Seems as though you just needed to clear your head, young one.”

He bounced a bit on his feet, picking up his weapon and spinning it in his hand, suddenly overflowing with confidence.

“Well I mean...I AM pretty strong when I put my mind to it. Never really got picked on during school. Pretty smart to, I’d sa-ow!”

Not paying attention, he nicked his finger with the blade. He dropped it again, putting his finger in his mouth. Sooga rolled his eyes, leaning down to pick it up, before putting it back in his hand.

“Another rule of the blade. Respect your weapon. It is meant to serve you, but it is useless without the same amount of care. It is a mutual respect. Do you understand?”

He nodded, taking the blade back from his hand, and tucking it back into his belt loop. The boy was young, dumb, and eager to prove himself to his elder. If that didn’t ring any bells. The boy seemed to be done with his finger, and he finally found his voice.

“So, what now? We gonna learn some of the poof stuff? I wanna teleport and stuff!”

“That takes displicine, and concentration. Two things you do not have yet. It’s also why you are not allowed on the field yet.”

“Which is not fair!”

He cried out, following Sooga as they made their way to the dining hall. Most of the clan was happy to survive on mainly bananas, but the boy looked none too interested.

“What’s the matter? You are not hungry?”

“No, I am. I just...I kinda missed the food back from home.”

Sooga scoffed. Figures. Sooga couldn’t blame the poor boy for dwelling so much in the past. Not everyone was like himself, longing to forget his old life.

“Let me guess. You want something like meat stuffed pumpkin.”

Sooga didn’t expect him to gasp, and nudge his arm, clearly excited.

“How did you know!? Can you read minds!? What number am I thinking of!?”

“No, it’s just predictable, given what you told me about your previous life. Bit of a ‘bumpkin’, as I’d put it.”

Sooga chuckled. Maybe it was the fact that he grew up with younger siblings, maybe it was his natural knack for being a caregiver. But regardless, Sooga found himself charmed by this little one, enough to at least not bark and tell him to eat what he was served. Oh, he was soft in the heart, just like Kohga said. Speaking of Kohga-

“Sooga, there you are! Been looking for you!”

The dining hall was abuzz from Master Kohga’s presence. Excitement that the young one hadn’t seemed to fully grasp, like some newbies. Before Kohga could continue, he pointed towards Sooga, as if accusing him of something.

“Did you know he could read minds?!”

Kohga cocked his head to the side, clearly confused.

“What? No he can’t. Love the guy, but he’s stupid.”

“Oh, can YOU read my mind then? What number am I thinking of?”

Kohga folded his arms over his chest, scoffing.

“Easy, 420.”

“....Is this yiga magic? I wanna learn that!!”

Kohga seemed to find him just as amusing, shaking his head.

“This one of the newbies, isn’t he? The one you said you wanted to train personally?”

“Yes, Master Kohga. While his mind races with frivolous things, he does in fact, have some skills. His reflexes are swift, as well as his feet, even amongst the foot soldiers.”

“Am I...skilled enough to get meat stuffed pumpkin?”

Kohga cocked his head to the side, and Sooga had to pull him into a bit of a side huddle.

“He misses his old home, Master Kohga. Not to mention, some variety in their diet COULD do some good in terms or morale.”

Kohga scoffed, arms folded.

“I like this kid, but you can’t sit there and tell me this kid is THAT special, Sooga. I’m not going all the way out there just so he can have special eats.”

“....Please?”

Kohga knew that look in his face. Sooga would NOT let this go, he could tell. He groaned, lightly shaking his head.

“Fine, just. Fine.”

The kid seemed to hear them, and whooped in celebration. Right before his excitement made someone fall over, and drop their bananas everywhere. Kohga sighed.

“I can’t believe I like this kid.”

“Neither can I, Master Kohga.”

They watched him scramble and try to pick everything up, before slipping on one of the peels, starting the mess all over again.

“We’re essentially adopting him, aren’t we?”

“Essentially, Master Kohga.”

“Oh well. Least I can call myself a dilf now.”

[tiredcowpoke]

TITLE: Should Have Seen It From the Start PAIRING: Arthur Morgan/Fem!Reader REQUEST: Anon requested an Arthur/fem!Reader where he tries to set her up with a “good man” in town and things don’t go as expected. BLURB: “Really, it was hard to hold his gaze as you spoke, dropping it away as you looked back off into the distance as you awaited his reaction. Though, you had to admit that the words had some weight to them, considering the light feeling that settled in your chest upon saying them.” WARNINGS: Some minor angst, mutual pining. Nothing too heavy. NOTE: I may not have set this up exactly to how the request was, as I don’t feel like Arthur’s the type to play matchmaker or force someone into a relationship, but I tried to keep a similar feeling behind the request. If that makes sense. Lmao Anyway, thank you for requesting and putting up with how slow I have been with these. This was also an uphill battle with writer’s block so I hope it doesn’t read too strongly of that.

This whole thing was just making you feel worse as the days went along, but this had come to a head.

Really, you felt like you should be enjoying the relatively peaceful stay in the area (at least, as peaceful as the gang could be) but this whole situation you found yourself in was souring the situation. It was hard to explain exactly how or why you decided to let it go to where it was. There had been a good amount of frustration, you had to admit, and...well, perhaps there was a touch of loneliness in there. How many times had you tried to clue him into how you were feeling? The number of times where it seemed like he had known but would then do something to toss that feeling out of the window? Seeing him with different people and wondering why it was never you?

You had argued with yourself several times about having to move on from it.

It was stupidly painful to deal with, and Daniel Lovette was probably one of the nicer men you had run into. If not the nicest, at least to you.

He was the son of the local fence, which gave you more than enough time to run into him when turning up with your (stolen) goods that wouldn’t do well in the general store. Considering the gang’s current plan of laying low, most of the money you did bring in was stolen jewelry and goods robbed from sleepy homesteads. The first few times, he had just given you a couple of nods and greetings when you would show up at his father’s still side business, which eventually led to a couple of conversations and...well, it seemed like he actually cared for your company these days. Returning to camp at that point was a different world. They were outlaws, you knew you would never quite fit in with the society that surrounded the gang. Still, it had been enough of a home for some time, but Arthur was always a bit of a source of frustration for you.

It had started slow, and you were somewhat used to him running a bit hot and cold. Sometimes it felt like you were as close as you knew the two of you were, then he would distance himself for some reason or another, before coming back around again. You got rather sick of the dance at points, but you hadn’t done much to put a stop to it. Hell, you had found yourself doing the same at points, almost as if you were following his lead.

During those points, you thought about maybe just saying something and getting it out in the open. That it could be dealt with instead of being this unspoken thing that you hoped would be mutual. You knew some of the women in camp had seen right through it and your dismissals. There had been some support in the beginning, but it wasn’t hard to see how they were growing frustrated with your refusal to address anything.

However, you knew you were scared. You knew Arthur enough to know he wouldn’t toss the admission back into your face, but...well, it could ruin things. The thoughts made you feel childish at points--you were both grown adults, you could handle talking truthfully. Yet, everything remained shut behind your teeth.

Yet, with all of that sitting on your conscious and Arthur switching back into his brand of cold shoulder (that it wasn’t one fully, you had noticed over time, but enough of one to get the message across) you had found yourself spending more time with Daniel.

However, it wasn’t hard to notice what he was looking for after a while. He wasn’t malicious or forceful about it, but there was a bit of hope in his eyes when you would give him more attention. At that point, you had started to wonder if it would be worth seeing where that went.

Which had felt like the beginning of the downward spiral of the situation.

Daniel knew who you were, what you did. He may not have been running his father’s business, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what with the fence seeing a number of people from different walks of life and he had been pretty intuitive in regards to what path you currently walked. The more you spent time with him, the more you thought about staying with him. He was understanding, too, having just gone through a rough courtship himself and it allowed you two to grow closer. Some of the gang members had seen the way you two interacted during the odd points where you were in town with someone (Daniel giving some subtly, thankfully.)

You should have expected word to get back to camp in some way, but people developing relationships out of it had happened in the past. Arthur was a prime example.

So it was damn confusing when Daniel had approached you one day at the fence, his tone curious yet his expression seemed somewhat troubled.

“This is gonna seem like an odd question, but do you got a brother or something?”

“Brother? No…”

“Well, I had been thinking along those lines because I just got cornered by someone who said he was lookin’ out for you.”

You had straightened up at that point. “What did he look like?”

“Ah, I dunno...taller than me somewhat, tan leather jacket, black hat.”

That had caused your stomach to clench, hands balling into fists. Oh, you had a good idea of who Daniel was talking about, you just didn’t want to believe it. Was that supposed to be some sweet gesture on Arthur’s part? All it did was make your blood boil somewhat.

“Don’t worry about him,” you had said after a moment, “I’ll deal with him.”

It was easier said than done, considering how Arthur had seemed to go right on the defensive about it. There had been some arguing back and forth about what you thought you were doing. (You really wished you had a solid answer to that at the time, but you had brushed it off easily enough.) How Arthur didn’t fully trust the guy, that you were putting the gang at risk by getting involved with someone outside of it. That it would cost them the peace they had found at the moment.

The last comment had made you scoff, your mouth somewhat parted in disbelieve.

“Oh, you’ve had no issue doing so yourself!” you had snapped, “I didn’t get involved once in your relationships but suddenly it’s fine when it’s mine? I am just supposed to watch you do the same and just stay miserable?”

The last question had been a bit of a slip up on your part, but it had been enough to keep Arthur from retorting as a somewhat confused look crossed his face. However, you had just pressed your lips into a thin line before turning and walking back off into camp. You had been expecting him to call after you with how quick he had been to jump into an argument when Daniel had been mentioned, but he had stayed away from you that evening and, for once, you hadn’t minded.

Things had seemed to subside after that, Arthur almost stepping right out of your business and getting caught up in the gang’s. It was a bit of a relief, honestly, giving you some time to figure this thing out. Yet, things didn’t quite seem to feel like they fit. Daniel was a sweet man, but something was keeping you back. It felt like it was gnawing at the back of your mind, leaving you taking steps back for each Daniel tried to take forward. It wasn’t hard to see where he wanted things to go, and...well, you had stuck up for the idea of that, hadn’t you?

Really, the more you thought about it, the more you realized it was the hypocrisy of it all that had you more angry than some attempt to block an opportunity.

The whole situation twisted and sat heavily in your gut as guilt made its way to the forefront of your mind.

You had to admit to yourself, and more importantly Daniel, that there wasn’t there. If it were the feelings you had for Arthur that lingered just out of reach with how far you had shoved them down, or if Daniel just wasn’t the right person, you weren’t sure.

However, it wasn’t right.

The memory of you telling him so still sat heavily on your mind as you sat on the top of your horse, riding rather slowly back toward camp as you could feel a tightness in your throat and in your chest. Daniel had taken it well for the most part, and you knew it could have gone worse if you had forced anything on your part, yet something he had said was lingering on your mind.

“If it’s because of that gang of yours, and I don’t know if it’ll make any difference, but that guy that threatened me before had come back to apologize about it and...guess he wished us luck? I mean, he looked conflicted about it, but I kind of expected that given the aggression before, but…”

You had been quick to assure him that it wasn’t because you were worried about what others thought, but rather something you weren’t feeling. Yet, his words kept circling in a way Daniel likely didn’t intend. Really, it felt like you were suffocating with the heat of the area and the way your mind seemed to be turning things over. A part of you felt like you were shooting yourself in the foot with a chance to get over this thing with Arthur, yet a more certain and louder part silenced that with the fact that you didn’t feel anything really there. You knew he would make someone very happy one day, but that person wasn’t going to be you.

Now it was just the strange feeling that had cropped up at what Arthur had supposedly told him.

Really, you just...needed to tell him.

Even if it went nowhere or you had been reading this whole thing wrong, it would at least allow you to close the book instead of leaving it open to glance back at whenever you thought about courting someone.

The day was starting to bleed into late afternoon by the time you had arrived back at camp, your mind a jumbled mess but you were certain of the goal you had in mind. You hitched your horse and glanced around the area, the camp lively with the usual amount of activity for that time of day. However, you noticed Arthur was, thankfully, writing in his journal under the canvas of his wagon. The sight of it put a nervous twist to your gut, causing you to pause somewhat in your approach.

Damn it, c’mon, a voice in the back of your mind hissed. It had you continuing to move as you decided to shove the feeling down for now.

Arthur glanced up at your approach, resting his pencil against the page as you came to a stop just under the canvas.

“We need to talk,” you stated, the words pulling a somewhat tense expression from him as he shut his journal.

“‘Bout what?” he asked as you crossed your arms, glancing down toward the ground.

“Some things I have been thinking about, I guess,” you replied, glancing back up at him, “About Daniel and...you.”

“Me? What’s that got to do with me?”

“It’s...it’s not something I want to talk about here. Come for a walk with me, will you?”

“Guess I got no choice…” Arthur muttered as he tucked his journal into his satchel, rising from his cot as you turned to walk toward the edge of camp.

The area was dry and hot, camp settling in a place that at least offered some form of shade from the trees but it wasn’t too much. So, you had wandered far enough out until you found a rock near a tree, far enough away from prying eyes and the heat wouldn’t stifle you any further. Really, you just wanted to spit it out but...well, you wanted to handle it better. Get some read on the situation from him before you took any sort of leap.

“You gonna tell me what’s gotten into you?” Arthur asked once you had stopped walking, causing you to raise an eyebrow toward him.

“Me? I’m not the one watching after your relationships.”

“...That man can’t keep a damn conversation to himself, can he?”

“Not when it’s about me, apparently.”

He shifted a little closer to you, stepping under the shade of the tree as you looked out at the area around you both.

“How’s that goin’, anyway?”

You let out a small scoff at the question, but the touch of amusement didn’t stay as you glanced over at him before shrugging.

“It’s not going anywhere,” you replied, leaning back against the tree truck as you crossed your arms, “He fancies me, but...guess I’m not all that interested in him. Where romance is concerned, at least.”

“So all them dramatics, they were for nothin’?”

“No, it got you to wise up,” you returned, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, “I had also been hoping that something would come out of it so I could...well.”

“I still ain’t so sure how this involves me,” Arthur said as you let out a steadying sigh.

“Why’d you bother?” you asked, “Getting involved like you did. I know you said you didn’t trust the guy, but have you been doing what you did for the other people in camp?”

“I saw you two in town once,” he replied, letting out a sigh, “Guess I just...didn’t like the look of him, wanted to see what he was ‘bout.”

“He’s a good guy,” you assured, “Just...too good for me, I suppose.”

“That ain’t true, you’re one of the better ones out of us here,” Arthur stated, causing your heart to thump hard in your chest as you pressed your lips together before letting out a small chuckle.

“No offense, but that’s in comparison to the company I keep.”

“Sure, but...I dunno.”

“I told him I couldn’t do what he was hoping from me,” you replied, shifting as you glanced toward him, “Would’ve been nice, but...I think I’m still caught up in something.”

“Caught up?”

“Arthur…” you started, letting out another breath. It was now or never. “When it comes to things like that, I feel like I’m running into a wall because...I have feelings for you. I have for a...long time.”

Really, it was hard to hold his gaze as you spoke, dropping it away as you looked back off into the distance as you awaited his reaction. Though, you had to admit that the words had some weight to them, considering the light feeling that settled in your chest upon saying them.

You had been frustrated about carrying it around for so long, the feelings, the thoughts, even the odd dream. A part of you weren’t sure how long ago they had started, perhaps when you were younger even, but...well, things were complicated. You had legitimately thought it wouldn’t happen at points for reasons outside of the courage to admit to it.

“Me?” he asked after a moment, causing you to finally look back at him, “You’re tellin’ me this Daniel’s too good for you, but I’m sayin’ you’re too good for the likes of me.”

“Well, I can return your argument against my own thoughts about that,” you said, “If you’re going to try to talk me out of these feelings I’ve been carrying for years over just telling me you don’t return them, I wish you would do that instead.”

There was another pause as you let your response linger between the two of you, your heart hammering away in your chest now as you just hoped he would give you some sort of answer. At that point, you didn’t care what it was outside of it being some sort of answer to an unsaid question that had been sitting for quite some time.

Do you feel anything for me?

“I ain’t a jealous man, but...part of me was scared at the idea of you leavin’. I knew that much, but the idea that it was for someone who...well, I can’t lie and say I ain’t had somethin’ for you for a while too, but...I always thought you could do better than me. You can do better than me.”

“You could let me decide that for myself…” you returned, shifting so that you weren’t leaning against the tree, standing before him with that damn fluttering in your chest and stomach.

Arthur didn’t say anything in return, meeting your gaze with more intensity than he had been giving you throughout the conversation. There was a part of you that feared you might be reading the situation wrong, that taking a step toward him was the wrong move, but with the pause and the flicker of his gaze about your face, you found yourself chancing it. You reached a hand up and cupped his cheek, feeling the light prickle of his stubble that was growing out somewhat these days, Arthur accepting the touch after a moment.

You leaned up and pressed your mouth against his in a light kiss, ready to pull back if things didn’t seem right, but you felt his arms wrapping around your back. He pressed you against him as you pressed a more firm kiss against his lips, slipping your hands up into his hair and around his neck, Arthur pressing back into the kiss as you did so. Your mind seemed to relax for a few moments, taking in the feeling of his lips against yours and his hold.

Though, eventually, you found yourself pulling back somewhat as the need for air seemed to press into the forefront of your mind. However, Arthur didn’t release his hold, and you didn’t back all that far away from him as you pressed your forehead against his own.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for...longer than I care to admit,” you muttered, letting out a soft chuckle as you saw a small grin pull at Arthur’s lips.

“...Me, too,” he returned, your gaze meeting his own in the closed-in space between you, “I’m sorry I’ve been actin’ a fool, I just…”

“You’re not the only one,” you replied, shifting your hands down to rest on his shoulders, “I should have been more honest with you and myself.”

Arthur let out a small sound in the back of his throat, not much in agreement but you didn’t pick up much disagreement from it. However, you didn’t read too much into it, not knowing where his head was at most of the time, but you were glad you got to know this.

Looking into his eyes, and knowing very well it would be a fun time to address this with camp after everything, you couldn’t find yourself regretting the choice to finally say the words.

[jenniboo311]

GQ: Spider-Man Goes Undercover on Reddit, YouTube, and Twitter

GQ: Spider-Man Goes Undercover on Reddit, YouTube, and Twitter by jenniboo311

Part 2 of the Social Butterfly Spidey series General |  4115 Words  |  Chapter 1/1

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The video opens with Spider-Man sitting at a table with only his torso visible, the set background a solid sky blue. He is wearing his signature mask and a simple white t-shirt, forearms bare and defined with lean muscle. He gives the camera a jaunty two fingered salute.

"Hey I'm Spider-Man," he begins in a friendly voice as he flips open the lid of the laptop in front of him decisively, "And I'm going undercover on the internet." The video cuts to a title screen as it types out "Actually Me with Spider-Man" as Spider-Man says off screen, "It's actually me!"

The screen then clears and types out a new message for its audience, "We had Spider-Man create real accounts and go undercover online."

"Let's begin!" He says as the camera cuts back to him typing into the laptop. The video shows his screen as he is typing his username and password into YouTube. Once the site logs in he selects his display picture, a cheeky shot a fan must have captured as Spider-Man swung past upside-down. "First up, let's take ourselves to YouTube."

A brief clip plays from a seven and a half minute humorous compilation of Spider-Man saves, cutting back and forth between impressive confrontations against dangerous criminals with firearms to sweetly helping older ladies with their groceries.

"From user SkepticalOfSpidey, she says," he narrates the comment as it is displayed on screen, "'Is this guy for real? How can a superhero go from dodging bullets to carrying groceries? Like how is this even on his radar? Does he actually care or is this some kind of PR stunt?'"

The video cuts to Spider-Man who replies vehemently, "I absolutely care! And I think it's hysterical people consider me "above" certain things, or they're not worthy of being on my "radar", as though I'm some hotshot. Look, the Avengers are great with the big world ending stuff, and sometimes I'm part of that too, but the little guys need help too, day to day. I'm the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, and no matter who you are, your race, your age, your sexuality, your income, whether you're a victim of a mugging or a kitten in a tree, you all deserve help when you need it. That's my personal mission, just to help people. So as long as I'm doing that I'm not ashamed."

The video cuts to show the end of his response being typed out on screen and Spider-Man hits the "Comment" button to post his answer.

Another short clip plays of footage from the scene of a crime where Spider-Man is knocking out a hulking goon in one hit, displaying his super strength. The subsequent comment is displayed on screen as Spider-Man reads it aloud, "'oh great, just what we need: another brawny idiot that uses his fists to solve problems. What we really need is intelligence. Can we get more scientists please?'"

Spider-Man reels back in his chair a little, seemingly taken aback. "Wow! Why are you so angry-" he consults the laptop again for the username, "Chelsea?" He shifts in the chair to get comfortable before responding, "First of all, another? I'm offended on behalf of my teammates. All of the people I work with are very intelligent, so I'm not sure where she's getting that you have to be an idiot if you have muscles. Secondly, I am a scientist, actually. I specialize in biochemistry, though I also dabble in engineering, physics, and programming. I have an IQ upwards of 250, which if you want to compare to the likes of Tony Stark, is around 270, who also kicks ass by the way."

He straightens his shirt indignantly, "Though hopefully I didn't give too much away with that. My point is," he points at the camera, "you can have both brawn and brains. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise, people. Defy the societal norms."

The comment section displays on screen again and scrolls down the page until it hits another comment. "'How strong is Spider-Man?'" He lounges back in his chair and taps the fingers of his right hand on the table idly, "Well, last we checked I could bench press about ten tons. Tony and I ran some tests about eight months ago to find out, so it could have changed since then but likely not by a large amount. So I'm going to say ten tons, give or take."

Another video clip plays that shows Spider-Man swinging confidently on his web before suddenly taking a wrong turn and eating billboard. The jarring collision dislodges his grip and he falls several feet to land on a garbage bin, whose lid caves in immediately under his weight. He reads aloud, "'Ouch. I wonder how that felt.'" Spider-Man laughs quietly, not afraid to laugh at himself. "To be honest with you Joshua, it did not feel good. That billboard actually broke my nose, though the garbage bin helped break some of the fall. There's definitely worse things I could have landed on. I don't get distracted often but it still happens sometimes. Web slinging is hard, okay?!

"Wikipedia!" he says off screen, as the visual on screen shows Spider-Man logging in to the Wikipedia webpage with the username, 'itsactuallyspiderman@gmail.com'.

"Let's see here," Spider-Man says before devolving into mumbles as he reads the information supplied on the website about himself. "Wait wait wait!" He exclaims after a moment and quotes the offending fact, "'His signature weapon is his webbing, which is created biologically and dispensed from a gland in his wrists at the base of his palms.'" The text in question displays on screen and zooms in on the text, "biologically", and then, "gland in his wrists".

"First of all, gross." Spider-Man rests his forehead in his hand, propped on the table with his elbow in a perfect picture of disappointment. "Second of all," he sits up straight and addresses the camera full on, "have you all actually been thinking I've been spurting real webs out of my hands at everything for the past few years?!" After a beat he processes what he has just said and facepalms while mumbling, "Spurting, oh God I regret my word choice."

The video cuts to the text being backspaced as Spider-Man narrates offscreen, "This is incorrect, let's delete it!"

The video cuts back to Spider-Man reaching below the table, leaning slightly to the left to dig something out of his right pants pocket, sighing heavily. He pulls out two simple black bracelets which he pointedly holds up for the camera before slipping them on. "Web shooters: 101," he says before deliberately knocking his wrists together so the bracelets make contact and activate. "Now obviously Tony Stark has gotten his hands on these and they are a little different than the originals, as you can tell by the nano technology," he explains, black colored metal creeping up his forearms to encase them in a type of bracer, "but the base mechanism is still the same as what I designed from the beginning." The nano technology finishes covering his forearms, the device quite noticeable with the stark black of the metal covering the majority of his pale exposed forearms. He flicks his hands back, palms facing upwards to show the camera, as the motion triggers a small device to deploy in the center of his palms. He reaches into his pocket once more and retrieves a couple small cylindrical cartridges filled with a milky fluid which he then deftly loads into the devices at his wrists.

"In a nutshell: web shooter," he holds up his left forearm to present the whole device to the audience. "The trigger," he presents the small button resting in his palm, "and web fluid," he continues, indicating the cartridge now inserted below his wrist. He points to a spot at the base of his palm, "They got the location of the dispenser right, I guess, but it's not coming out of a gland of any kind!" He aims carefully just past the camera and shoots a quick burst by depressing the button at his palm that makes the viewer feel as though he is shooting it at them. "I developed this formula myself, in a lab, with chemicals!" He emphasizes. "It's completely synthetic, not biological by any means, and nobody had to milk me for it." He pauses, staring at the camera for a moment before looking down at the table and murmuring uncomfortably while shaking his head, "That was a strange sentence I never want to repeat." He huffs a quiet laugh.

"Quora!" Spider-Man says as the onscreen graphic shows Spider-Man logging into the website with his fake email. "What the heck is Quora? I have no idea but let's get into it.

"'How is Spider-Man such a darling? He's so sweet and wholesome and is a big, soft, cinnamon roll'," he narrates as the question displays on screen. He shifts around awkwardly and scratches the side of his head, "Aw, I dunno! But thanks Quora, you're my new favorite website.

"'How many people has Spider-Man killed?'" He narrates as the question displays on screen. "Wow guys, that's dark!" He leans forward and clasps his hands together to convey the seriousness of his response. "The answer is none. I haven't killed anyone nor do I intend to. Spider-Man is strictly nonlethal. I only use webs to detain, I don't use blades or guns of any kind. Except these guns." He lightens the mood by flexing his right arm and kissing his bicep. He holds it together for approximately two seconds before exploding in laughter. "Oh God, how do I have friends?" He mutters to himself.

"Next!" He exclaims, searching for the next question. "'Does Spider-Man wear a mask because he's disfigured?'" The question displays for the viewer to see. "Hmm, okay well the short answer is no. That's not why I wear a mask. I don't really know how to quantify my own attractiveness, that's just awkward. I think I'm perfectly average, though I've had people tell me I'm handsome. They were all terribly biased though, so take that with a grain of salt." Spider-Man's grin can be seen in the crinkling of the fabric around his mouth. "I have two eyes, a nose, a mouth, and completely normal teeth. No extra eyes or mandibles or anything. That may sound like a strange thing to say but you'd be surprised how many times I have to clarify that," He snorts. "I cover my face because dealing with so many street-level criminals puts me on the radar of a lot of people who want revenge against me and anybody I care about. So if my identity was known I'd have to constantly watch my back, and my loved ones would be in danger. Of course there are contingencies for if that happens but in the meantime I want as normal a life as possible for me and mine."

Spider-Man clicks away on the laptop until the next question displays on screen. "'Does Spider-Man give autographs and selfies?'" He narrates. "I do, but all I ask is that if you catch me out in the wild and I look busy or distracted, to please not bother me. Most times the people I save are a bit too traumatized to be thinking about getting my autograph at the moment, but if the night is slow or I'm taking a break I'm happy to give an autograph or take a photo with you if you ask. Your best bet is probably at fundraisers and charity events, if I am in attendance, since I'm not focused on crime fighting and am just interacting with people."

The next question displays on screen, "'Is Spider-Man single?'" The video cuts to Spider-Man shifting uncomfortably. "Uh, I'm not comfortable confirming that sort of thing. Like I said, people in my orbit are in danger so I don't want to bring any kind of attention to who I surround myself with, even if their names are as yet unknown. The less information going around about that the better. So all I'll say is that at the very least I am not looking for a relationship." He awkwardly clears his throat before moving on.

"'How strong are Spider-Man's webs?' Strong enough to restrain the Hulk. Seriously," he nods at the camera, "I know this for a fact. We, and by we I mean the Avengers and I, had a code green sometime last year and out of sheer desperation I let the webs fly. By the time I was done he was basically in a cocoon but hey, it worked! Hulk looked pretty cozy actually." His eye lenses squint in amusement.

"Now let's go to Facebook," he says as the video shows him logging into Facebook and selecting a new profile picture, a closeup of Spider-Man shooting the camera finger guns.

"'Who would win in a race between Spider-Man and Captain America?'" He claps his hands together once in excitement, "Me! Because I'm obviously superior to Cap in every way!" He barks out a laugh and mumbles, "He'll let me have it for that comment! No I'm joking, Cap is awesome. I'm actually not lying though. We had a race, because science, and I clocked in at about two hundred miles per hour while Steve maxed at about seventy. Nothing to sneeze at of course, but not quite up to Spidey's par!" He gives another cheesy arm flex, this time with both arms. The video cuts to Spider-Man typing out the last of his answer and finishes it with two flex emojis before submitting it.

"'Do you think Spider-Man has any hidden talents?'" He looks seriously into the camera. "Well if I told you, they wouldn't be secret talents anymore, now would they Gerald?" He cocks his head to the side in thought. "I guess I can tell you that I can dance? I took dance and gymnastics for awhile when I was a kid, which is probably why I'm so agile and acrobatic now. My enhancement made me even more agile and acrobatic, but it was already there to some degree to begin with." He gives a careless shrug.

"'Coffee or tea?' Well I try not to drink either of them to be honest. Caffeine and spiders don't mix! Sometimes I can't avoid it though, lots of late nights being Spider-Man, so in those cases I drink coffee. Funny trivia for you, but I used to love lemonade. I must have inherited some spidery traits because lemon is a deterrent and I can't tolerate it now. I mean it won't kill me, I just find it unpleasant. Don't want criminals thinking they can spray me with lemon juice or something. I'll just be annoyed and smell funky fresh while I kick your ass." His eye lenses squint as his mask crinkles around the mouth. "My beverage of choice is actually apple juice, because I'm twelve years old." He snickers and hits the submit button to post his answer, complete with a baby emoji.

"'How are you doing? Are you getting enough sleep? Do you need a hug?'" He shifts forward to prop his chin on his hand. "I'm doing good, thank you for asking. I am absolutely not getting enough sleep, but neither is anyone else I know so I'm in good company. And I absolutely need a hug. I love giving people hugs and will one hundred percent hug you if you ask me to and I'm not busy. There's lots of Spidey to go around, I love each and every one of you."

He reads the next question silently first and barks a laugh before narrating, "'What even is your life?' Dude, I have no idea. If you had told young Spidey that one day he'd be flipping all over the city fighting crime and battling aliens with a superpowered team of highly skilled famous individuals he'd probably check you for fever and then back away slowly.

"Up next, Instagram! I know all about Instagram, I use it all the time." The video shows him once again logging into the website

"'Does anyone else desperately want a reality TV show with Spidey and the other Avengers? I would kill to watch hours of Spidey being a sarcastic little shit to bank robbers and Tony Stark just being a mess.'" Spider-Man laughs. "Wellllll," he hedges, "you might not have to wait that long. I've been toying with the idea of creating a YouTube channel and posting some shenanigans on there. Now, mind you, it won't be expertly edited or anything, I really don't have the time for that, but it would be something. Keep an eye out for that soon."

The video next displays a picture on Instagram that a fan had posted of a young Spider-Man from his early days coming out of a porta-potty with a string of toilet paper streaming off the bottom of his boot. The comment reads, "'Check out this disaster. What is going on here?'" Spider-Man looks straight at the camera, unimpressed, and deadpans, "Everybody poops, Deborah."

He navigates to the next picture, which is of a kneeling Spider-Man getting mauled by an enthusiastic, fluffy golden retriever. "'Was he a good doggo?'" He reads aloud. "He was best boy. What a good doggo!" He grins big through his mask.

"Now here we go to Twitter," he says as he logs in and selects a profile picture. "This is probably the social media I use the most. I'm thinking about deleting the app off my phone for a little while though, it's starting to consume my life. It's nice being able to connect to the public with it but I'm starting to find it difficult because people get so disappointed when I have to step away. Saying no to people is hard! And I have an extremely busy life so I can't keep this up forever. I've got cats to cuddle and lives to save! Gonna have to dial it back a bit I think."

The screen displays a tweet from user EmmaRox as Spider-Man reads it aloud, "'Do you think the abs are real or does he pad his suit?'" Spider-Man snorts and slaps his chest in mirth. "Well I would think that the fact I can lift a bus is proof enough, but here you go," he says and lifts his shirt to expose his impressively sculpted abs for just a moment before dropping his shirt and shaking his head in embarrassment. "Not padded."

The video cuts to the next question as he reads, "'What do you do in your free time?'" He looks at the camera and his left eye lens shifts as though he has furrowed his eye brow. "Free time? What's that?" He snorts, "No seriously, there's not much of that to go around. If I'm not on patrol or sleeping or training, I'm trying to keep up with my personal relationships and trying not to spend all my remaining time in the lab, with or without Tony. Like I said before, I'm a scientist, so a lot of my downtime is devoted to developing better tech, and to research to advance in these areas." He dramatically sweeps his hand across the top of his head as though he is a diva flipping long hair over his shoulder as he announces, "I'm not just a pretty face, you know." The video cuts to Spidey typing out the end of his answer, finishing it off with a queen emoji.

"'What's the best piece of advice you've ever been given?'" Displays the next question from user, David P. "That's a good question, David. Hmm," he strokes his chin thoughtfully, "I would have to say 'With great power, comes great responsibility'. It was advice given to me by one of the two most important people in my life, and I have carried that motto in my heart ever since. It was advice that ultimately lead to the creation of Spider-Man, actually. I have these fantastic powers, so I consider it my responsibility to do something good with them." He wrings his hands together at what looks to be an uncomfortable topic for him to speak about. After a beat he continues his answer, "The second best advice I've ever gotten, however, was 'It is better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring', which you'll also notice I take very seriously in that I am incredibly ridiculous. I mean if there's a person out there who spouts more bad puns in the face of danger than me, I haven't heard of them." He quietly snickers to himself.

"'If you had to choose three adjectives to describe yourself what would they be?'" He doesn't hesitate when he rattles off, "Genius, witty, humble." He stares at the camera seriously for a moment before he cracks and laughs. "No seriously, uh, probably awkward, smartass, and nerdy." He shrugs for lack of a better answer.

"Reddit!" He says as he logs into the page and selects a display picture of Spider-Man facepalming.

"'Do you have any pets?'" Spider-Man reads. "No. My apartment doesn't allow pets, sadly, but I love animals. And actually I do hang out with Tony a lot and I have to constantly make sure he's fed and watered because he forgets, so I feel like that's close enough." He covers his mouth with a hand to hold in his snort but a strangled one escapes anyway.

The next post shows a piece of fan artwork that is poor quality and is obviously from an inexperienced child. It depicts a heroically posed Spider-Man saving a young boy from a burning apartment complex window. The young artist in question posted the caption, "'I know it's not any good but spiderman saved me and my mom from a fire. I really want to say thank you so I drew him this picture. If anyone gets the chance to talk to spiderman can you please show him this and tell him I love him?'" Spider-Man looks at the picture on the laptop for a long moment and audibly takes several loud swallows. He looks at the camera and says hoarsely, "I love you too, bud. And I'm glad you're doing okay. It was my absolute pleasure to help you that day and I'm so glad I was there. I love your drawing and I think you're so very talented. I'm going to print this out and post it on my fridge so I can see it everyday and think of you. Study hard in school and be good for your mom!" He looks down at his lap and clears his throat, filling with emotion. After a moment he looks up and clasps his hands.

"That's it! We're done!" He says as he shuts the laptop with a snap and his eye lenses squint in a smile. "I hope you enjoyed watching and learning a little bit about me. See you around!"

The video fades to the GQ logo before ending.

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

Comments: ----------------

magicalbluecookies omg that last one killed me. Spidey got all choked up Friedfishcat I live for Spidey telling us he loves us. I stan a Spiderboi not afraid of his emotions. kitty22803 Am I the only one who took a screenshot of his abs? TeamIronDad Bahahaha subtly roasting cap and iron man. I wanna be a fly on the wall of their common room, I bet they're all hilarious to watch together lovelyjourneys Does this cinnamon roll ever rest? He needs a nap! And some milk or something! saucysquatch "Everybody poops, Deborah." Dumbledork I will die if he actually makes a youtube channel, please actually make this a thing! enchanted_nightingale Nooooooo dont delete twitter! kim_cc I once got a hug from spidey!! I was crying after he saved me from almost getting hit by a car and he asked if i needed a hug. It was the best hug of my life. Isi1dur Spidey is 12 years old confirmed, someone call the press xoxheartErin Spidey, post a video of you dancing!!! Proof or it didn't happen! Slyrocker Spiderman is asked how's he's such a soft cinnamon roll, proceeds to then prove he's a soft cinnamon roll Hi NOBODY HAD TO MILK ME FOR IT UselessDiamond19 Holy crap his web shooters are so cool! chrissyglikesbooks 250?! His IQ is 250?! Einstein was 160!!!! I feel faint. amillionmiles Spidey eating that billboard is about how my week is going honestly Mira Spidey is such a smart boi! He's going to make a great husband when I marry him.

TotallyNotDeadpool Well I guess this is all we have to live for now that you're out of the MCU

[paipayaseeds]

“sorry”

he was apologizing

suddenly, she felt a wave of guilt for ever comparing him to her mother. she crawled over to him, filling the gap he created. using one hand to lift his head up, she curled her index finger on the other and gently swiped away the tears she saw. “don’t cry, shuichi! i would be okay with dying if it meant you got to live!” she said a little too cheerfully, not realizing just how gruesome the statement was. she smiled behind her mask before shakily standing up; her low weight and the fact that in the past week she’d only eaten a chocolate bar and some chocolate ice cream, her impulsive action was starting to catch up to her a little. “and don’t leave your wife behind again, that’s mean. she... she just wants to play the piano for you!” she scolded before walking over to kaede, the clicking of her shoes on the tile echoing throughout the room. “i bet you’re reeaaaaally good at piano.” no shit, fumiko, she’s the ultimate pianist.

with a giggle she left the room. her cheerfulness might’ve been a defense mechanism her brain was using to not think about the inevitable. was there even anything to do in this school? she clearly wasn’t inspired to write any music, that’s for sure. who would be in a situation like this? all of a sudden, she was outside. little did she know, a certain robot had been keeping an eye on her, and followed her out with a glass of water and some crackers. she sat in the grass, looking up at the sky behind the cage until her view was obstructed by a pair of LED eyes.

“w-WAAH” she yelled, scooting back and sitting up. she had just blinked and kiibo was staring down at her, it was a little scary! he sat down next to her, groaning like an old man as he did so.

“miss akiyama, this is for you,” he said, handing her the snack, “you’re clearly malnourished, and i heard miu yelling from the dining hall! it isn’t safe to drink that amount of alcohol in your condition!”

“o-oh uh, i didn’t— i didn’t know, sorry...” she held the crackers in one hand and the water in another, wondering how she was going to eat them. fuck it, who cared anymore. he’s just a robot, anyway, she thought (this is the beginning of fumiko’s robophobia arc). placing them on the ground, she took off her mask to eat.

“what happened?” fumiko was barely even listening to the boy next to her, too busy chomping down on the snack he brought. therefore, she hadn’t realized he was referring to her scar and not what happened yesterday.

“mmmmmm..... shuichi got mad or something, i dunno.” she responded. his eyes were as wide as saucers, mouth agape. what? how could he do such a thing, he thought to himself. while she took a sip of water, he thought about her reaction to his aggression the previous morning. he noticed the gauze on her arm and the bruises and, suddenly, it was his duty to monitor this girl at all times. she finished her snacks and he took the trash, putting it into a compartment he had on his body because i don’t feel like writing them walking to the trash can. she put her mask back on and took the hand he reached out to help her up. “..............can i touch your hair?” so you’ll ask kiibo but not shuichi? gotcha. the boy hesitantly nodded with a confused look on his face.

her hand reached out and pet him, “it’s so soft! like a.... like a cat! yeah!” it was times like this when he hated the professor for adding a blush function to his design. “meow for me, kiibo! meeeooooow”

“u-uh.... m-m-meow...?”

“awwwwwww you’re so cute, hehe!” she giggled bringing her hand back down. she got curious and asked him a question, “so... will you still be alive after today? you’re a robot, after all... are you able to die?”

he wanted to get mad at her for her assumption, but he stopped himself, she’s... she’s drunk. “i-i... it depends, really. if i am physically destroyed, yes i would be considered ‘dead’......” he held a finger to his chin as he thought, “my system can also reset back to infancy. it’s happened once before!” she looked at him in awe, and he couldn’t help the little smile that crept up onto his face, he felt a little proud that he impressed her. sighing, he looked at her with a serious expression, “you need to get some rest, miss akiyama.”

“then read me a bedtime story, mr. kiibo!” she laughed, not expecting him to actually pick her up (surprised that he hadn’t struggled) and walk her down to the library. when they got there, it was empty. he picked up a little storybook which had been there for some reason, and gingerly sat on the ground with her in his lap. he was glad she hadn’t made any comments about his armor, he was scared that-

“kiibo, you feel hard.” (BABAHAHDFBHAHD)

“my apologies, are you uncomfortable?”

“no i’m okay- it’s okay.”

he nodded, opening the book and reading it to her. he’d barely finished the second page before he heard her snore quietly, leaning on his chestplate. carefully as to not wake her up, he took her mask off and placed it off to the side before wrapping his arms around her. he wondered what the unfamiliar emotion he felt when he looked down at her sleeping face was, but he didn’t have much time to think about it before he heard the library’s door open.

Shuichi furrowed his brow at her nonchalant, self-sacrificial statement that brought him a mini-cardiac arrest. Was she serious? Maybe it was just drunk people talk? People do say drunk talk is sober thoughts... At least, that's what his uncle told him.

"W- what? N- now hold on— Fumiko-" Wife? Had she really been that intoxicated that quickly? Checking his wrist that had no watch, he swears it's only been a few minutes since she downed that bottle of alcohol.

Kaede seemed just as confused, but instead of voicing her concern, she laughed awkwardly and nodded. "Haha yeah, at least I think I am..." She trailed off as Fumiko left Miu's lab abruptly, before turning her gaze back to Shuichi. "Do you think she's okay...?" Miu scoffed, "No fucking way, after chugging half of my booze? There's no way she's a heavyweight like me!" Miu lied, laughter loud, shrill and painful to Shuichi's ears.

Kaede nervously shuffled to the doors, "A- alright then. Um, Shuichi? We should probably go to the library now." Beckoning him as if he was a dog, she followed Fumiko's cold trail out the doors of the lab, and back into the school, Shuichi following not far behind. Despite the remaining worries for Fumiko's well-being, Shuichi couldn't seem to muster any more confidence to speak up about the girl who had just.

You know, like a coward.

As they made their way into the library, cameras in hand and plan in mind—well, Kaede's mind; Shuichi had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Fumiko, as always. He seemed to always think, think, think about the girl; though he barely ever acted. It was pointless, wasn't it? He was useless.

Walking into the library with his gaze glued to his shoes, he didn't seem to notice the two sitting on the ground, as well as Kaede who seemed stunned to her spot. The gloomy detective only brought his head up as he felt a strong glare burning holes in his head.

As he perked his head up, his eyes widened as he spotted Fumiko in the robot's arms; a sight he certainly hadn't been expecting.

A sight Kaede definitely hadn't been expecting either, had been the large scar gashed across the girl's face. She found her heart beating a little faster in worry as her eyebrows creased; what happened to her? Kaede wondered if it still hurt.

Gulping, his wide eyes focused onto Fumiko. "Is... Is she still—?" K1B0 held his hand up at Shuichi, a look and attitude of pure annoyance. "Assaulter...!" K1B0 accused in a hushed tone as to not wake the girl up, eyes narrowing until either of them could barely see his pupils.

Stopping in his tracks towards the snuggling two, he looked at K1B0 in confusion, unsure if he heard him right. "W- Assaulter? W- wait, me?" Kaede looked confused, "Him?" She couldn't help but wonder what a timid guy like him could do to be considered an assaulter.

"Why are you even in the library in the first place, Shuichi?" The way he had spoken the detective's name had been petty and sassy, it seemed to unnerve Shuichi. "Were you trying to find her? Because I don't think it's a very good idea for her to be with you right now." He wasn't sure what came over him, the almost motherly instinct to protect the girl, hit him faster than his robotic receptors could even process.

"N- no, I..." Thinking back to their growing distance, his expression slightly dropped, "... Y- yeah, you're right." Shuichi submitted and surrendered faster than the speed of light, feeling more pathetic as each second passed him by(as he fucking should, bastard got what he deserved-)—

Before Kaede interrupted, taking the lead for the unreliable boy as usual, "We're here to um, to investigate..! Shuichi is helping us find a way out of here!"

K1B0 probably would've cared more about the fact that they were helping them find a way out of this hellhole, but no. He had a sleeping baby Fumiko in his arms, and so the natural reaction was— He hissed as Kaede spoke in a loud tone, shooting a look at her as if he was saying; 'Are you trying to wake the baby!?'

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #370

“breakdowns, obscenities, it’s all i wanna be”

Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? Downloading music, for one. I really should just start using Spotify... but my iPod has over 1k songs on it and I just seriously don't want to got through all the trouble. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? Hm. I dunno. What kinds of videos do you like to watch on YouTube, if any? I watch SO many different kinds. It used to be pretty strictly let's plays, but I've definitely expanded my watching interests. Now I'm really into watching educational reptile and tarantula husbandry and keeping channels, I watch one woman who is like my weight loss idol (Jordan Shrinks, she is amazing), there's a few vloggers, I enjoy some World of Warcraft channels, and then there's a couple urban exploration guys I like. I also occasionally watch some beauty YouTubers just for their personalities and the art of it. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? Yes, but they were so busy that I didn't connect with anyone before I finally gave up and ODed. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? Ummmm I don't really know. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I care a lot about other people. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? The breakup. It brought me to the lowest of lows, where every day was a struggle to survive. It taught me I can endure through almost anything, even if it doesn't feel like I can. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Happiness, contentment, being in love, motivation, energy, activities, travel... There's genuinely a lot. IIs there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? I'm very bad at ignoring things. If something is bothering me, it's going to put up a beastly fight to be at the forefront of my mind. What is something you wish was different about your family? I wish we were closer and better off monetarily. What keeps you going lately? The hope for a happy, satisfactory future. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? if so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? I've been in a long-distance relationship with another girl. I think the hardest part was that there was not being able to physically be there for each other when one of us was really struggling, and sometimes communication was an issue, not being able to read body language when we voice chatted or hear the tone in which we "spoke" when texting, though I'm pretty sure that's an issue with any online relations. I also feel it's difficult to really build and experience your chemistry with one another when you're not physically with the other person. I still think all these challenges were worth overcoming, though. I in no way regret the relationship and got only good things out of it. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? I'm kinda torn between Jason and Colleen, but I think my bond with Jason was ultimately more unhealthy because it went beyond love: he was an obsession. Having him with me was the only thing that brought me joy, and I lit-er-a-lly could not imagine my future without him. Like that concept just didn't exist; it was entirely impossible in my head. On his end, he failed to communicate what he was going through emotionally, which only contributed to the damage. I never knew he was struggling because of me. Without realizing it, I put so much pressure on him to make me happy, so to answer the last question, no, we don't, by his decision - and I don't blame him. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? A neverending battle I have with myself is if how I treated Jason after the breakup was qualifiable as emotional abuse, specifically with messaging him things like "thanks for sending me to the ER" and shit. My therapist reassures me that it wasn't abusive because I wasn't being deliberately manipulative, but rather genuinely hurt and convinced I had been wronged and wanted him to know and acknowledge it. She agrees that it was wrong, which I entirely agree with, but sometimes, I'm still convinced I was abusive. I fucking hate answering this question, so hurrying up: I don't know if he's forgiven me. As for how others could reconcile, that's not for me to say. I know sometimes the answer is to NOT make amends and completely stay away from their abuser. It's not my right to tell others how to cope with their abuse. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? My former best friend Colleen was toxic as all fuck hell, and I let her back in way too many times. No, she never changed. I honesty doubt she ever will, given her pride. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? Hmmm... I know this was semi-recent, but whatever it was is evading me at the moment. I personally have zero issue with adults engaging in activities like that; let people do what they enjoy if they're not harming anyone, especially things as innocent as dressing how they think is cute, etc. I would far rather people "act like children" (not emotionally, you know what I mean) than run around the streets selling drugs and shit. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? When I was riding to the sleep study section of the health plaza, where the hospital is, my anxiety spiked quite a bit, recalling all of my ER stays for being suicidal. It didn't help that the psych hospital I visited most is also in that whole jumble of buildings. I dealt with it by reminding myself I was in that area for a very different reason, and Mom reassured me that where I would be staying was more like a small hotel room than a hospital bed, which was true, so that helped. Regarding the next question, I'm not gonna lie to ya, I have a stupid amount of PTSD triggers: certain music, shows, fandoms, places, smells, even tastes of certain foods. I tend to stay away from my major triggers, but I'll *sometimes* fight the tiny ones, because I want that sense of ownership of myself back. If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? Yes. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? I'm VERY sensitive to feeling anything in my nose, and it leads to me needing to blow it a lot. I also can't stand having holes in my socks, but since I wear flip flops essentially everywhere, I don't experience this much. Are you ever afraid to admit to liking something because you’re afraid other people will judge you for it? What is the worst that’s ever happened as a result of you liking something different from the crowd? What about the best thing that’s come as a result of a unique interest? Y E P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing really bad has happened because of admitting my interests, other than hearing things along the lines of "I don't get it." It's very odd, just how horribly receptive I am to judgment about things I like when I don't recall a time where I was ridiculed for anything. But anyway, the best thing to happen from sharing interests for me is making a new friend that likes the same thing, and I will IMMEDIATELY be closer to you than most people I associate with once you've helped me past that vulnerable spot of mine. Have you ever remained good friends with an ex? Yeah. Do you have a negative view of mentally ill people, or are you mentally ill yourself? Do you ever call others crazy, insane, etc? Do you ever call yourself those things? I'm mentally ill and empathize heavily with those who suffer themselves. I absolutely do not have a negative look on mental health sufferers; we don't choose to be victims. I'm definitely not a big fan of abusing terms like "insane," because I've fucking been there, and it's not a term to take lightly. I've thrown 'em around before, but I try to avoid it. I don't call myself any of those things nowadays, but in the deepest trench of my depression and PTSD, I honest to God think I fit the definition of "insane." Does it bother you to have people comment on what you’re eating, or do you not care? What are some comments that would bother you, if any? Do you ever comment on what other people are eating or make assumptions about their intakes? YES. JUST DON'T FUCKING COMMENT. I get EXTREMELY self-conscious when my mom does this sometimes when I occasionally need a small snack to hold me out overnight, and I absolutely never will say something to someone else. It's just rude, imo. Well, I guess if someone was really destroying their health and I was close to them, I would out of concern and be very gentle, but when regarding most people? I'm keeping my thoughts to my damn self. Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it and don't want to. I'm not an energy drink fan. Who is the last person you spent money on? My mom. I remember I bought us fast food when we were out once. What are you looking forward to in the next 4 days? G U Y S!!!!!!!!! I GET MY TATTOO TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! :'''') Also on the same day, I start my TMS therapy, which I have high hopes for. Have you ever gone a whole day without eating? No. Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No, but I did that for years back in middle school. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? Haaaaaaaaa. If you could cuddle with anyone right now, who would you pick? I really wish I could cuddle my late pup Teddy again. :/ I was thinking about that recently. Are you tanned? God no. I never am. Do you try to wear dresses whenever you can? No. I wish I was in a shape where I was comfortable wearing spring dresses again... I had this floral skull one in high school that I adored. Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else? No. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Did you like the person you last kissed when you kissed them? I loved her. Who did you have a meaningful conversation with last? Sara. Do you have feelings for someone? Yeah, but they're like... on a leash, you could say. I don't let 'em run free and wild, and I know that even if nothing comes of those feelings again, it's fine. Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? I think Jason will be this answer for a very long time, if not forever, given the trauma and all. I have to remind myself frequently that I love his memory, not him, because I don't even know him anymore. It's been YEARS since we spoke. Just like I've changed incredibly, I'm sure he has, too. If you saw life in black & white, would that be okay with you? I mean, it would suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. When you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, what kinds of things are you likely to do? How often do you find you have trouble sleeping? I do exactly what you shouldn't do and get back on the laptop. I'd say I most often get on WoW and refresh the auctions I have up because that tends to tire me out because I do that shit manually to avoid any addon mishaps, and I have a looooot to put up as a gold farmer. What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something to see if I qualified for a sleep study. Are you a patient person? What is one way you have a lot of patience? What about not very much patience at all? I am NOT patient, at least regarding more trivial things, like sitting in waiting rooms. I do have patience though with other people with more serious things, like getting someone to open up to me. At what time during the day do you tend to feel your best? What about the worst? When I first wake up. It's a "fresh start" and it's nice to feel rested. Plus, I open a fresh can of cold soda as my "coffee" for lack of better word, haha. I'm in my worst mood probably late afternoon/early evening, by which time I am incredibly bored and just dulled down. What was the last thing you did that you wish you could take back or do differently? The last thing... I dunno. How frequently do you stay overnight somewhere that isn’t your own home? What things do you miss about home when you’re away? Do you tend to get homesick easily? Pretty much never. I do miss my room and its privacy when I'm away from home, but I wouldn't say I get homesick all that easily, so long as I have WiFi, haha. Do you tend to eat more in the beginning of the day or at night? Do you have a tendency to snack when you’re bored? If so, what kinds of snacks do you normally go for? Not necessarily the beginning of the day, but definitely more than at night. I am BAD about snacking when I'm extremely bored, but at the very least I'm conscious enough to try and find something semi-healthy, like granola bars, fruits, a scoop of peanut butter, but I also sometimes just eat like... a slice of bread or a tortilla. Horrible choice. I'm a carb fiend and I hate it. If you have any dietary restrictions, do you ever miss foods you can’t have? If not, what’s something you haven’t had for a long time that you wish you could eat again? I thankfully don't have any. I've been craving cheesecake like a madman lately. :< The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, too. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have my license, and my driver's permit is even expired. I'm terrified of driving. I also don't have a job, and I can't cook. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? Uhhh I think someone on Facebook had a baby. Of course I was happy for them. What was the last milestone you reached in your life (graduating, buying a car, starting a family, etc)? What milestone are you going for next, if any? Um... I haven't reached a true milestone in years. Hell, I don't think since I started recovery from the breakup. Do you enjoy getting comments or messages? How likely are you to leave comments or messages for other people? Yeah, it makes me feel cared about. It really depends on the platform on how much I leave other people comments, and I'm extremely shy about messaging, but I'll do it sometimes. When are you most likely to scream (either out of fright, anger, or whatever)? Do you scream or yell often? When was the last time someone screamed at you (or in your presence)? Frustration, for sure. I've screamed into a pillow more than once. I definitely don't yell or especially scream often. I'm sure the last person to yell at me was Mom, but I don't remember about what. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? I'd saaaay... maybe love. When I love something/someone, I love HARD. I think I experience joy the weakest; it's very muted for me. And lastly, what are you listening to? Is this a band you listen to a lot "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. I wouldn't say I listen to them a lot, but I have been more than usual lately.