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spaceclefairy · 4 months

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The Gentle Art of Making Enemies, Ch. 17

Pairing: Michael de Santa/ OFC; Trevor Philips/OFC; Michael de Santa/OFC/Trevor Philips; Michael de Santa/Trevor Philips

Summary: Los Santos is a hellscape, but if you’ve got brains and a little determination, it can be a real hell of a playground. Michael needs money, Trevor needs whatever Trevor wants, and Franklin’s moving up in Los Santos. Jen’s just along for the ride.

This is gonna be fun.

Author’s Note: I’ve been writing this beast of a thing since 2013. It’s been through a thousand different incarnations, but it’s been in my drafts for the last six years. I realize this fandom isn’t as popular as it used to be, but I might as well have a little fun and finally start posting it.

Also, not to be that bitch, but this is on Ao3. I would very much appreciate kudos/comments, if you’re so inclined!

Tagging: @verbo-volant for being an inspiration always

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

--- --- ---

Senora Freeway, Three Years Ago

Michael’s flying down the Senora Freeway, Jen’s in the passenger's seat, Night Moves is playing gently in the background, and life is fucking good.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Jen asks, leaning over to card her fingers through the back of his hair. “What's your curfew?”

“Haven't got one tonight,” Michael says, leaning into her hand. “Amanda's out of town for the weekend. We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“Really? Whatever I want, huh?” Jen teases, rubbing his neck. She can see one of his tattoos peeking just over the edge of his collar, and she runs her finger across it. “We could… go see a movie? There's a drive-in on the edge of the canyon right before the county line. We could grab some greasy takeout and not pay attention to whatever they're showing.”

“And what would we be doing instead of paying attention?” Michael shivers from the brush of her fingertips, a full-body shiver that runs from his shoulder to his toes.

Jen laughs. “Fucking in the backseat, duh. That's what drive-ins are for.”

Michael chuckles to himself - that sounds like a good plan to him. “What if we get caught? Don't want you to lose your job or anything.”

“Please, we're so short-staffed, that old codger wouldn't fire me if I set the mayor's house on fire,” Jen says with a grin. She kicks off her shoes and crosses her legs up in the passenger's seat, relaxing against the door. “He’s gone senile anyway. We’re all just trying to stay afloat.”

“You should run against him, bring in some new blood.”

“Me? DA?” Jen snorted. “I'm not really much for leadership. Or politics.”

“I think you'd be good at it,” Michael replied. His hand settled on her thigh, squeezing her knee briefly. “You’re smart, you’re hard-working - you’ve got the Los Santos look. Good face for politics.”

“Maybe I'll think about it,” Jen shrugs. She’s never one to get sheepish, but she can't deny she's flattered. “Hey, turn here - let’s grab Cluckin’ Bell and head to the drive-in.”

--- --- ---

Present Day

Thanks to Michael, Jen had been in a bad mood all weekend.

Saturday had been little more than a nuisance - a formality of time enforced by the sheer ticking of a clock. Jen had given up calling or texting Michael not long after he'd bolted Friday night, leaving Saturday an open wound. She passed the irritable hours by sticking her nose in her laptop and coming up for air for coffee, and coffee alone.

Sunday was just another twenty-four hours of blind irritation stemming from hurt and confusion. Sunday was spent on the couch watching reruns of old mafia movies and nursing a bottle of wine.

Monday, well… Monday was not a good day to be this angry. It was a status hearing for Jen’s serial killer trial - the trial that would last at least a month. The hearing was a formality - little more than standing up to tell the judge that, yes, the State is ready for trial, and, yes, half the LSPD and FIB are witnesses on said trial, and, yes, it will take at least a month to try.

And, while Jen prided herself on etiquette and professionalism within the courtroom, that Monday was not her finest day. Jen was seething, and everyone could tell. Therefore, no one would talk to her, nothing was getting worked out, and nothing was getting done - at least, not for her cases.

When Jen’s case was called, she stood in her tall, tall heels, the spiky ones she wore specifically on days like today, and stood at the podium in front of the judge. "The State is ready to proceed with trial."

The judge, a curmudgeonly woman in her late sixties, similarly, and perhaps impossibly, was in a worse mood because a month-long trial wasn’t going to be enjoyable for anyone. The judges - especially this one in particular - did not like it when Jen announced that a trial would take place, as Jen's trials generally took a week or more.

The judge sighed. "How long do you expect this to take, Ms. Dixon?"

"Three weeks, maybe four. There's eight counts of murder in the first degree and nearly forty witnesses."

The judge, deadpan, asked, "Seriously?"

Jen nodded, tapping her pen against the podium. "Serious as a heart attack, Judge. This is the serial killer the FIB arrested last year."

The judge looked as if she'd like to retire immediately. "Alright, we'll set it down for trial. I'll send out the scheduling order this afternoon."

Jen stepped away from the podium, click-clacking back to the State's table. The other attorneys hastily made room for her, careful not to scoot too close. With the exception of MaryAnn, they all seemed to be mightily preoccupied with the files in their hands. MaryAnn, on the other hand, stared her down with every step.

Leave it to MaryAnn to be the only person unafraid to ask. She leaned over to whisper in Jen’s ear. "What crawled up your ass?"

Despite Jen’s irritation, she almost smiled. "Nothing."

MaryAnn rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on, I haven't seen you this angry at work since the morning after you went on that date with Haines."

That had been an exceptionally bad day, after an exceptionally bad date. They did not speak of that date. Nor the day that followed.

"We agreed never to talk about that." Jen crossed her arms and watched another lawyer stand up for his case. "Mike's being a dick."

"Did you have a fight?" MaryAnn asked. She watched the judge out of the corner of her eye, waiting for her next case to be called while she chatted with Jen.

"More like he fucked me seven ways to Sunday and ran out of my apartment before he'd even zipped up his pants. And didn’t bother to answer the phone."

"Ouch," MaryAnn winced. "Want me to cover for you so you can go home?"

Jen shook her head. "No, I've got too much to do, and we need to keep prepping for trial. I'll take care of it tonight."

"I feel sorry for him…"

"I wouldn't if I were you."

As Jen sat at the table monitoring the goings-on of the courtroom, her phone vibrated. She frowned down at it when Michael’s name flashed across the screen.

Michael: dinner @ natalias @ 6

How eloquent. Michael wasn't known for his hip-and-happening texting skills.

Jen: okay

She received no further reply, which wasn't unexpected even on a good day. Nevertheless, she spent a few too many seconds glaring down at the screen. Two of her employees (who had been watching carefully to make sure a blow-up wasn’t imminent) vacated their seats and scurried away, pretending to discuss a case they were working together. She rolled her eyes at their retreating backs, but she could admit it wasn’t their worst idea to go run and hide.

Jen chewed on her lip, deep in thought, until she tasted the rust of blood. Dinner could go one of several ways. Michael could ignore the problem - that was the most likely possibility. He could bring presents and buy her dinner and expect that to fix things. Or, equally possible, he could finally run the other way. That… also wouldn’t be entirely unexpected. Whatever method Michael decided to try, Jen had already determined a conversation needed to be had.

Once court had adjourned, Jen grabbed MaryAnn and led her back to her office.

“We have to call Haines and Norton,” Jen said. “They worked the last of the murders before his arrest, so we need to start working on their testimony.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to take your anger out on your favorite punching bags?” MaryAnn asked, curling up on her favorite chair in Jen’s office. She stared up at the whiteboard where Jen had drawn out their trial plan. “You’re not going to have one of them sit with us, are you?”

“I was planning on Haines sitting at the table with us. He has public appeal with that dumbass TV show,” Jen replied, tapping out a message on her phone. She usually tried to warn Haines before she called him. She dialed after she sent the message. “As much as I don’t want him there, he has good ratings - might help with the jury's perception of us.”

Both Jen and MaryAnn were well-known for being rather… contentious during trial.

“I hate it when you’re right… sometimes,” MaryAnn said. She quieted when Haines answered the phone on the third ring.

Haines’s voice rang loud and clear over the speaker. “How can I help you, Jenny?”

Jen’s eye twitched. “That serial killer you and Norton arrested last year is electing to exercise his constitutional right to a trial. Clear your schedule - you’re sitting at the table with us.”

“I guess you need a pretty face for when the camera’s come rolling in,” Haines commented loftily. “I don’t know… I’ll have to check my filming schedule.”

“Well, when I serve you your subpoena and you don’t show up,” Jen started as MaryAnn snickered quietly in her seat, “I can have you arrested on your own TV show. How's that for ratings?”

“Eh, I guess I could use some more screen time,” he corrected quickly. He wouldn’t put it past her to actually do it. “I’ll make sure to let my makeup artist know.”

“If you fuck up this testimony and this guy walks, don’t forget your home address is public…”

Haines scoffed quietly. “Calm down, Jenny. When have I ever fucked up testimony?”

Irritatingly, the answer was never. Haines, for all his flaws and despite his patriarchal athleisure wear, was actually fairly good on the stand. He was somehow able to charm a jury, despite the glaring surface flaws and deep-seated jackassery.

“Just be prepared. You’ll be on the stand for a couple of days,” Jen said, "And wear a fucking suit. I don't want you up there looking like you're going out for a round of golf."

“Yeah, fine.”

Jen hung up. MaryAnn was still snickering quietly in her chair.

“Well, if all goes poorly with your old man boyfriend, there’s always Steve Haines.”

“I would genuinely rather die, MaryAnn.”

--- --- ---

Michael was late. Of course, he was late. Even neutral ground for a conversation wouldn’t make that man deal with the consequences of his actions in a timely fashion.

Jen took a sip of her wine. It was good wine, she determined. She’d already asked the hostess (a woman she’d become incredibly friendly with over the years of being a steady and dedicated patron) to bag up an extra bottle to take home. She had a feeling she was going to need a tall, stiff drink when she got home.

Jen already knew where this date was going just by virtue of Michael being late, and Michael was clearly having trouble getting himself together to do it.

She could tell him that it was okay, that she was expecting it. She could tell him she'd always known it would end like this - that they'd had a good ride together. She could be kind and make this easier for him, just get up and grab her bags and forget that he existed. And make him pay for the meal, obviously.

But Jen certainly wasn’t known for being kind. If Michael was going to do this, she wasn't going to make it easy for him.

Michael finally arrived, dressed in his usual suit and tie. Judging by the pink flush on his cheeks, he’d had a couple of drinks before he’d walked in - a little liquid courage. Jen watched him idly as he sat down and adjusted his tie, though it didn’t need to be adjusted. He was looking anywhere but at Jen, though she’d fixed him with a cool, even stare.

Finally, Jen spoke, tone flat. "Explain."

"I don't really know what to say…"

She cocked her head to the side. "Take your time."

"I- uh," Michael trailed off as though words had entirely escaped him. He paused, trying to hold himself firm against Jen's colder-than-death stare. "I'm- well, I'm- fuck - I'm sorry for runnin' out the other night-"

"I didn't ask for an apology, Mike. I said explain."

Michael knew his choices were limited. He could take what he determined was the chicken-shit way out: apologize and keep on doing this with Jen. Or, he could do what he figured was the right thing to do if he wanted Amanda back - break it off right here and now.

Begrudgingly, Michael admitted Trevor was right - he had to let one of them go. And he'd chosen Jen.

Time to pony up.

"Jen, I can't keep doing this," Michael said, his voice hollow. It's like he couldn't hear the words coming out of his mouth - like he was trapped in an icy bubble. "I mean, we had a good ride. It's been a good six years-"

"Seven years."

Michael coughed. Right. "Seven years. But we knew we'd have to move on from this eventually."

Jen crossed her arms. "Uh-huh."

"Look, you deserve someone who can give you a good life."

"I have a good life as it is, but keep talking if you’d like,” Jen said, raising an eyebrow.

“I'm still married, Jen.”

That, despite Michael's attempt at a hushed whimper, caught the attention of the table next to them. Two blondes, one tall and statuesque even sitting, the other squat and muscular, ducked their heads together and traded sideways looks.

“Oh, I'm aware, but did it ever cross your mind that you’re married when you were getting your dick wet?” Jen asked, tone getting icier by the minute. “Or when you dragged me into your new bank-robbing 80's movie reboot?"

Michael struggled to keep his temper in check. If he raised his voice, which he knew he shouldn’t do, she’d lose her shit on him (which was not something he ever wanted to experience and would ultimately make things worse). And then he’d lose his shit on her (again, not something he'd ever done nor wanted to experience). He didn’t want to have a screaming match or some knock-down, drag-out fight in the middle of this restaurant. He’d wanted this to be as quick and painless as possible, but he had a short temper and a bad mouth.

"Yeah, I’m sure you really hated the money you got from those jobs. You're really gonna pull the morality card on me right now?" Michael snapped. “You knew I was married from the get-go. I never hid that from you.”

And with that, quick and painless fell out resolutely out of reach.

Jen sneered. “Morality got thrown out the window seven years ago when I fucked you on my couch. You don't give a shit about me or Amanda. You just want your idyllic little life back, with your white picket fence and wife and two-point-five kids and all that shit."

Jen had never spoken to him like this before - not this icy, toneless clip. Screaming was one thing, yelling and cussing another, but this emotionless, icicle tone was downright terrifying. Michael thought he might prefer yelling.

"We never agreed on anything more than strictly casual and you know it!” Michael snapped. He wanted to disengage, he really did, but he was notoriously terrible at backing down.

The neighboring table was outright staring now, more out of the Los Santos love for drama than any real concern.

"Doesn't matter what we agreed to at this point, especially considering the past few months. This arrangement is no longer strictly casual, Michael,” Jen said. “Whose bed did you sleep in when Amanda left you, huh? Who’d you come running to?"

Michael leaned in, trying to keep his voice down, and failing. "Why are you making this harder than it has to be?"

Jen pointed at him, her long, tapered nail ending in a point. "Because you know how I feel, and you know how you feel, and you’re just blindly fucking ignoring it."

"I've got to take care of my family."

"I’m not telling you not to take care of your family,” Jen hissed, “I’m telling you not to go back to someone who made you miserable for twenty years, and who, I’m sure, you made equally as miserable.”

Michael didn’t have an answer, because Jen wasn’t wrong.

"The fact of the matter is, you want this to be easy for you. This is not easy for me, and I am not going to make this easy for you, Michael," Jen snapped. This was an absolute promise. “You’ve always walked away from everything you’ve done scott-free - not this time."

"Well, don't worry, you'll get your wish. I gotta carry this with me every fucking day."

"And I hope you carry it with pride."

With that, Michael stopped and took a deep breath. He cared, he really did. And Michael, in his infinite capacity to make everything worse, went for the final blow. "Look, I care about you, Jen. I lov-"

"Don't." She uncrossed her arms and stood up. "Don’t say another fucking word - I don’t want to hear it. You are such an asshole."

"Jen, come on-"

Jen grabbed her bag and coat, retrieved her bottle of wine from the hostess station, and left, the restaurant door swinging shut behind her. Michael could pay for the fucking waters and the bottle of whiskey he was probably about to order - Jen was out of there. The valet, taking a quick look at the expression on her face, wasted no time retrieving her car.

Of course, Michael would pull that card. Jen wasn't stupid - and neither was Michael. Both emotionally stunted, stubborn fools - but not stupid. That had manifested years ago, but, of course, the end would be the moment Michael decided to pull it out.

Asshole.

Jen revved her car and turned out into Los Santos traffic. God, it would be weeks before she’d be able to go back to Natalia’s after that blowout. She couldn’t stop herself from letting it get out of hand, and there was no way Michael wasn’t going to make a scene. How embarrassing. She’d have to leave an extra tip next time.

She didn't want to go home yet, not after that. She needed someplace to cool down, get a clear head. Some catharsis.

Tequi-la-la’s would be a good place to cool down. Have a couple of drinks, grab some bar food since she’d never actually ordered at the restaurant. Find someone to take home with her. Yep, that was the best plan. Alcohol, food, and a quick fuck. Mends broken hearts, does the trick every time. Well, probably not this time, but self-destruction was the only option Jen would consider right now.

Yet, rather than taking the exit for Tequi-la-la’s, Jen found herself turning right onto the Strawberry exit. A short drive later, and the glow of the Vanilla Unicorn sign flooded the dark streets. She’d driven around aimlessly until she’d seen the giant neon sign and cut into the parking lot.

Catharsis. She could get catharsis here, too. She cut the engine on her Jester and sat staring up at the flashing lights.

“Fuck.”

Jen slammed the Jester door behind her and locked the car. She was greeted at the door by the bouncers by name, asked if she wanted her usual table by the hostess. She declined and headed straight up to the bar.

Tiffany, blonde Tiffany - one of Jen's favorite girls at the Unicorn - was bartending tonight. Jen didn't prefer blondes, but Tiffany was undeniably gorgeous and surprisingly quite sweet. And she made a great cocktail. And gave great head.

Jen leaned against the bar and waved Tiffany over. “You busy?”

“Kind of,” Tiffany snorted. She looked around and saw that she was not, in fact, all that busy, so she shook her head. “Actually, not really. Mondays are slow. Speaking of which, why are you here?”

“Bad day,” Jen responded. “Came in for a drink and… to say hi. Take a break?”

Tiffany raised an eyebrow and called over her shoulder. “Jill, I’m going on break. Be back… eventually.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Jen grinned. “Hey, have you seen Trevor tonight?”

“Uh, yeah, I think he’s in the office. Why?”

“Got a problem with using the office?”

“With him in it?”

“Maybe, if he’s lucky.”

Tiffany shook her head. “No problem at all.”

“Good girl,” Jen said with a wink. “Let’s go.”

Tiffany ducked out from behind the bar and led Jen back towards the office, pulling her by the hand past the private rooms where thudding music filled the dark hallway. Bouncers lined the wall, standing guard past the curtains in case customers got too rough with the girls. Judging by the soft sound of panting, some of the bouncers had been paid extra to look the other way.

Trevor's office was down at the end of the hall, but the girls didn't quite make it there before Jen pulled Tiffany into a heated kiss. One of the bouncers gave them a look, more out of curiosity than concern, then went back to monitoring the couple past the curtains. It wasn't like the bouncers didn't know what was going on - they'd all seen Jen with a girl or two before - but what happened at the Unicorn, stayed at the Unicorn.

Jen shoved a hand up Tiffany's cropped shirt, finding no bra to impede her in her goal, and busied herself playing with Tiffany's nipple. Tiffany wound her hand into Jen's hair and shoved her back against the wall.

“How do you want to do this?” Tiffany asked, panting in Jen's ear.

Jen tweaked her nipple until she moaned, thumb circling the nub relentlessly. “Whatever happens, happens. You okay with Trevor joining in?”

Tiffany nodded. “Fine with me. You give the word.”

“Safe word is pineapple if you get uncomfortable,” Jen said. “Now, come on, I want to stick my tongue in your pussy.”

They didn’t bother knocking on the door - it was unlocked anyway. Cue Trevor doing whatever it is that Trevor does in this vacant office (currently, snorting coke off the desk). ‘

He looked up and broke out into a grin. “Well, this is unexpected.”

“Shut up,” Jen said as she backed Tiffany up against the desk. “You can stay as long as you’re quiet.”

Trevor mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

Jen nudged Tiffany onto her elbows on the desk and sank down to her knees in front of her. She hiked Tiffany's skirt up her thighs and peeled her underwear down before sealing her lips over her slit.

Tiffany's hand gripped the roots of her hair. “Ah - getting right to it, babe?”

“Mhm,” was as much of a response as Jen could give with her mouth full. She flicked her tongue along her slit, pausing to suck at her clit, before spreading her open with her fingers and sinking two digits in. She pumped her fingers in and out, tonguing the space in between with reverence, until her mouth was soaked and fingers were dripping.

Tiffany grabbed Jen’s shoulders and arched up into her mouth, thighs shaking. “Fuck, Jen - right there -”

Jen could just barely hear Trevor unzip his pants over the sound of Tiffany panting, but hear it she did. She stopped sucking Tiffany's clit and stood up, leaning over the girl on the desk so she could kiss her.

“Okay so far?” Jen asked softly, mumbling against Tiffany's mouth. Her black lipstick was smeared down her chin, and Jen could only imagine what her own face looked like.

The breathless yes made Jen smile.

“Do something for me?” Jen asked. “Go fuck Trevor. If he doesn’t finish you, I will.”

Tiffany nodded and stood shakily up from the desk. She crossed over to where Trevor sat and climbed into his lap. He moved to grab her ass, but stopped when Jen told him no.

“You don't touch. I touch, you be quiet and take what we give you. Understood?”

He stared over Tiffany’s shoulder at Jen and nodded. To his credit, he followed orders and didn’t speak, likely because he thought Jen would tell Tiffany to stop if he did. (She wouldn’t have, not this time. This was a night for catharsis, not discipline.)

Jen stood behind Tiffany and held her hips steady as she slid down onto Trevor's fat cock. She reached up and tucked Tiffany’s hair away so she could trail kisses down her neck as Tiffany grinded down on Trevor’s lap.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, Trevor?” Jen said, reaching around to play with Tiffany’s nipples while Trevor watched. “Tiffany’s so fun to play with. Too bad you can’t touch.”

He leaned his head back against the top of the chair and groaned, eyes squeezed shut. His knuckles had turned white from the force of clutching the arms of his chair, the pulse point in his neck fluttering, tendons tight.

“Open your eyes and watch, Trevor,” Jen said, teasing one of Tiffany’s nipples before reaching down to play with her clit. “If you’re a good boy and make Tiffany come first, I’ll fuck you, too.”

Another groan, but it makes him buck up into Tiffany, matching her pace. Tiffany moaned in turn, one hand gripping Trevor's forearm, the other hand wrapped around Jen's hand while she played with her clit.

Jen grinned, spreading the slick over Tiffany's clit. She reached further, massaging the place where Trevor's cock plunged into her. “How’s that feel, Tiff?”

“Good - so good-”

“Gonna come for us?”

A high-pitched, breathy yeah.

Jen grabbed Tiffany's chin and turned her head so she could kiss her. She felt the tremor wrack Tiffany's body as she came, the sharp moan spilling from her lips muffled by Jen's mouth.

Beneath them, Trevor was absolutely wrecked, hips stuttering as he rode out Tiffany's orgasm without succumbing to the one threatening to slam through him. His bottom lip was caught between his wolfish teeth, eyes wild, knuckles so white from the strain that Jen could almost see the veins running through his hands. He still didn't speak, but he stared a hole through Jen's forehead, silently begging to come.

Jen held onto Tiffany's hips as she climbed off of Trevor's cock, keeping her steady. Trevor's hand immediately fisted around his shaft, pumping viciously to keep his high going.

Jen kissed Tiffany again, this time gently. “You okay, Tiff?”

“I'm great, sugar,” Tiffany replied. “Do you want me to stick around?”

“Yeah, I like when you watch,” Jen replied. “Besides, someone should watch Trevor get fucked like a good boy.”

Jen turned back towards Trevor, watching him beg silently as he fisted himself. “You can talk if you're good.”

Trevor nodded furiously, groaning. “I'll be good - I'll be so good, Jen, please -”

“I know you will, baby boy,” Jen said, lifting the hem of her dress out of the way as she straddled Trevor's lap. “You always do such a good job for your Princess Jen.”

His hands latched onto her thighs immediately, fingertips digging into her skin as she moved her underwear to the side and sank down on his cock. It was an easy slide, made easier by the mix of Tiffany's come coating his shaft and the precum dripping from his flushed tip. Her hand found his throat, thumbs teasing the prominent veins bulging under his skin, and forced his head against the back of the chair.

Jen's name, at that moment, was the closest thing to a prayer to have ever come out of Trevor's mouth, followed closely by fuck and please. She gripped his shoulder with the hand not currently wrapped around his throat. When she moved in his lap, it was slow and torturous, not quite enough to push Trevor over the edge with the explosive force he'd started to feel with Tiffany. No, this was worse - this was a wave lapping at his skin, teasing him, pushing him closer and closer -

“You can come now, Trevor,” Jen said, permission like music to his ears. “Be a good boy and come on yourself.”

And he does. He bounced Jen up to the tip of his cock and slammed up into her before pulling her soundly off his cock and coming all over the bottom of his shirt. She kept his head pinned to the back of the chair, the edges of his vision starry and fuzzy, forcing him to keep eye contact until his cock softened against his stomach.

From the desk behind them, Tiffany made herself come again, the sound of her moans bubbling up underneath Trevor's. Jen climbed off of Trevor's lap to help Tiffany clean herself up before waving Tiffany out with another kiss.

Jen sat on the edge of the desk and offered Trevor Tiffany's forgotten underwear to clean himself up. She watched idly as he stuffed the used underwear into his back pocket.

“Not that I'm complaining,” Trevor said, “but what was that?”

“What do you mean, what was that? You got fucked by two women. Don't think that needs an explanation.”

“But why?”

“Why not?”

Trevor, unfortunately, was a lot more perceptive than Jen gave him credit for sometimes. “What happened?”

Jen, wholly unwilling to relive the events of the night prior to her arrival at the Unicorn, climbed down off the desk and smoothed out her dress. “Why don't you call Michael? He'll explain.”

“Maybe I’ll just go pay him a visit,” Trevor replied, zipping up his pants with some finality. “It’s been a while since I said hello anyway.”

#grand theft auto #Grand Theft Auto 5 #Grand Theft Auto V #gta #GTAV #GTA5 #michael de santa #michael de santa x oc #trevor philips x oc #trevor philips

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thetrashbagswasteland · 7 months

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Get to know your fanfic writer!

Tagged by @teamdilf several days ago woops thank you tumblr WILL NOT give me notifications When did you post your first ever fanfic? I wanna say 2008, it was a beyblade/doctor who crossover and about what you'd expect from a 12 year old 😂

First Character(s) you wrote? Kai from the original Beyblade series', as far as I can remember.

Main Character(s) you’re currently writing? Castis Vakarian, Avitus Rix and Macen Barro. Also maybe my AU femShep (Mass Effect)

Character(s) you haven’t written about before but plan to write about soon? Astarion (BG3) because alas I am not immune to the appeal of a shitty little vampire twink nor to the brainworms that game seems to give everyone who plays it

Fandom(s) you’re currently writing? Mass Effect (Trilogy and Andromeda)

Platonic pairing(s) you’re currently writing? Saren Arterius & Avitus Rix Sara Ryder & Avitus Rix

Romantic pairing(s) you’re currently writing? Avitus Rix/Castis Vakarian Macen Barro/Avitus Rix Vetra Nyx/Sara Ryder

Your top AO3 tags? Angst, Pre-Canon, Established Relationship and Hurt/Comfort

Current platform you use for posting? AO3 all the way thanks, that's my bestie

Snippet of the WIP you are currently working on? Here's some Tolerance Tested - Chapter 9: Muddied Waters; in which Macen has some awful realisations and far more truth than he ever wanted

Macen remained quiet, finding it hard to breathe if he were quite honest - here, in the quiet of the pre-dawn, a million kilometres and more than a decade away from the horror, he was still scared to hear the culmination of the tale. But Avi carried on regardless, desperate to get to the end of it, he thought. “Caught them in night-shift, just a couple of kids on duty. I ordered them to open fire and… when they refused, I shot them.” This time, he contemplated the bottle in his hands before sipping it once more. By all rights he shouldn’t be able to speak clearly at all at this point and yet here they were. “Two more for my conscience, for what they were worth. Then I trained the main gun on the outpost’s oxygen converters. Didn’t take much- two shots’d have done it, but I went with four, made damned sure it was a crater- made sure there was no more Dregir.” His mind supplied, uselessly, intrusively, platitudes about how little those people would have suffered; igniting their oxygen supply would have meant they’d have died from rapid decompression at worst and simply burned away in a fireball at best. Either way would have been ruthlessly efficient and mostly painless - likely dead before they knew what had hit them. It did plenty to explain the little moniker he’d heard though. The Reaper of Dregir. Horrific as it was, it wasn’t surprising- well, no, what was surprising was that the hierarchy hadn’t covered it all up. “You didn’t have a choice, baby.” Macen murmured, not daring to reach out again with physical comfort he was almost certain would serve only to put him on edge. “They must have seen that- you couldn’t have done anything different without the fallout being made your fault.” “Maybe.” Tension-cord tight, his voice nearly broke with the word, and then Avi shook his head. “Didn’t matter. One thousand and ten casualties, someone had’ta pay. I did my duty and trusted that they’d stand by me- what’s twenty two years of loyalty worth, huh? Turns out, shit-fucking-all.” Their eyes met and he couldn’t help but see resentment there - maybe not aimed at him directly but certainly at the ideals he chided Avi to go along with. “They threw me in a cell under Eldis; kept the court case small, blessedly, just some good ol’ silver barking questions and getting psychiatrists to prod at me, but it was still hell. Promoted beyond my capabilities and without sufficient consideration to my limitations - that’s what they decided in the end, and that fair enough, they’d let the victims families have my life for it.” Perhaps his surprise at that was too blatant, his instant, roiling disgust that they’d blamed it all on him too loud, given how Avi chuckled - dry and humourless. “Firing squad, Mace, that’s how they said they’d do it. One of the guards complained that t’wasn’t a hangin’; apparently the hanged dance for over a minute after death, d’you know that? He showed me, too.” Macen clenched his teeth, determined not to let his disgust at that slip out, if only because he suspected it’d come out as nausea instead. “I got the last laugh though. Hours before my big day, Saren turned up with a council-ordered stay of execution an’ demanded to take me away for their investigation.” Hours. Hours had been between Avi and being essentially murdered for the crime of doing the right thing- and with that, Macen knew for certain that he definitely had some calls to make. How could he not, how could he live with that information? But…. It did at least make it far more evident just why Saren had earned his devotion and loyalty; why he’d transferred whatever confidence he’d had in the hierarchy before then straight over to him. “He saved your life, quite literally.” Until that point, he’d assumed he’d meant it in the more figurative way but, no, he had genuinely saved him, hadn’t he?

“Dunno if that was his intention to start with.” His boyfriend shrugged, maybe leaning a little closer, looking a little more regretful instead of simply broken. “But he got everythin’ he needed outta me and hadn’t yet put a round between my eyes, so I started to get spooked. Asked him t’just be up front about it and… he put a gun in my hands- put his gun in my hand. Told me that if I couldn’t live with what I’d done, he’d understand and it’d be a right damned shame I’d managed t’get it off his hip and kill m’self before he had a chance to react but if not, that he thought it’d be a waste of a useful soldier.” His mandibles twitched with some half-lost in-joke. “Dunno why I said yes, in hindsight an’ given the hell he put me through in the name of training, but I did and…” “And here we are now.” This time, Avitus didn’t resist when he took his hand, just nodded and transferred the bottle to his other hand so he could keep going, as if he still had more demons to chase away with drink alone. Over a thousand- he had to have a fair few. And… that had been in one go. How many more ghosts had he gained since then? How much blood was on his hands that he blamed himself for? How had he lived with that?

tagging @spaceouttatime, @callista-curations, @ferowyn and anyone else who fancies doing this and hasn't yet!

#ask meme

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epersonae · 7 months

Text

20 questions for fic writers

Tagged by @yerbamansa, thanks!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

169 😅 150 of which are for The Adventure Zone (I wrote a LOT of small fic for TAZ, and just a lot of TAZ fic in general)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

604,338, which remains absolutely wild to me. I hit the half-million mark this year.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Our Flag Means Death, but previously The Adventure Zone, and I have one Star Trek (TOS movies) fic.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Sea of Love (Our Flag Means Death (TV)) (6,697 words)

Phoenix Fire (The Adventure Zone (Podcast)) (2,031 words)

Commit to the Bit (Our Flag Means Death (TV)) (2,471 words)

Dinner & Conversation (The Adventure Zone (Podcast)) (826 words)

I have begun to long for you (Our Flag Means Death (TV)) (4,185 words)

Yeah, ok, some fun reunion porn for the big fandom and a collab with two pretty popular writers for the small fandom make sense for that top two in particular.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, especially since I don't get that many, and I love getting comments so much that I just want to share my appreciation. Sometimes the spoons are low, sometimes I don't know what to say except "thanks!" and if someone just commented on several chapters I might not do that for all of them.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Well, Phoenix Fire is the Worst Ending, aka the destruction of the entire universe, plus unbearably sad between the main characters, so yeah.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I do have quite a bit of fluffy fic (Commit to the Bit comes to mind, there's also a Fantasy Costco Kravitz/Taako that's very sweet), but I immediately thought of for the benefit of all the broken hearts, just because it takes an incredibly bittersweet ending of the fic it's fixing and says FUCK THAT, how can everyone get a happy ending instead?

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I've never gotten any, even managed to avoid the twitter wank that WFU got when I wrote fics of it! (long ago, I did get some vagueblogging about some stuff in my TAZ fic, but nothing ever addressed directly at me)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

That is where I started and why I started (my first smutty fic is pretty bad imho but it was popular, relatively speaking, because for a bit there it was the only unlocked smut for that pairing); my original rarepair was M/F bi4bi in a complicated polycule, and so there's some them+others works in there. (readers of for the benefit of all the broken hearts are nodding along like "ok this tracks") beyond that, I'm just going to say go look at my work.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Is for the benefit of all the broken hearts (and the rest of that series) a crossover??????? Like I'm legitimately staring into space thinking about the boundary line between modern AU and RPF and........ HUH.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

DO PEOPLE DO THAT

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

183 thousand words in a series: the only life you could save, with my beloved Ryn, when we were "just friends" - started as our attempt to co-write a reconciliation between Taako and Lucretia, and spun out into an entire timeline with themes spanning before the Stolen Century all the way into post-canon. Some pieces we wrote separately, much of it we wrote together. Even the last piece, which I published after Ryn died, includes a section that they wrote, about Taako trying to cope with Lucretia's death.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Probably Mulder/Scully lol, tho I don't know if I've ever read any fic of them????

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

One of my very first TAZ fics was a Hurley/Sloane backstory fic that was going to be basically a beat-for-beat retelling of The Fast and the Furious (oh, I guess that's also sort of a crossover?), but I only ever wrote the first chapter. I would love to write it at some point, because I think it would be fun as hell.

I'd also love to finish my TAZ Amnesty fic, sweetness follows, which is friends-to-lovers post-canon Minerva/Duck.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Character voice, I think. Possibly a stupid depth of canon knowledge for whatever the canon is, and I think I have a knack for figuring out how to reincorporate those details. Honestly, it's hard for me to say "oh these are my strengths and weaknesses", or at least today I'm having trouble pinning that down.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Punctuation Pokemon, or rather, my sentences do get very tangly. I find endings really tricky, I've done a lot of work thinking through how to stick the landing. (This is one of the ways in which Ryn continues to live in my head, because they could always spot when I hadn't quite made it.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Alas my Spanish (high school and college) is too rusty to even try, and I don't know any other languages.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Adventure Zone, although I wrote quite a bit of Agatha Christie pastiche in junior high, and a lot of Anne Rice influenced original fiction in high school and college.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

I love a lot of my fic, it's fun to go back and look and say "oh that!", and The Reckoning Arrives is up there, of course, because I loved writing it, and it saved my life. ("she's survived the impossible before" got me out of my marriage and 2 years later got me through the hospital. "you're here, so be here" got me through what came after that.)

But it does have to be for the benefit of all the broken hearts - she lives in my head, still, and I feel incredibly proud of all the work I put into it, the technical work, the emotional work.

---

Not tagging anybody, but PLEASE! if you feel like talking about your writing, do it!

#my writing #my fic #tag games #'sweetness follows' was a bit of a love letter to Ryn before I told them how I felt

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dollarbin · 3 months

Text

Shakey Sundays #10:

Living With War

(Rest assured Fair Reader, we'll get to this photo and its relationship with the album in question in good time; for now let's just wonder if Neil, on the right, is wearing blush or if he's blushing because he's just been seen associating with Stephen the Hutt, on the left. Again, we'll get there in good time! Now, on with the post...)

The teenagers I teach, who are all pretty awesome, arrive knowing almost nothing about modern events. Wait, they say, there was a war in Iraq? Are we talking about, like, recently? Were we alive? Wow. Dude, what'd you say? There were like two wars in Iraq? Were we in them? Iraq's a country, right? Who won?

Well, kids, no one won. But hundreds of thousands of people lost their lives. And millions are still suffering from the effects of the conflicts. And Iraq is, like totally, a country.

The teens come alive when you start to get into the details; I'm proud to stay pretty damn nonpartisan in the classroom but there's no way to teach these events without telling students the truth: the Bush administration lied. And I don't mean once. They lied over and over again for years. WMDs; links between Iraq and 9/11; government directed torture; death counts. And our country went along for the ride; we were so shell shocked by 9/11 that we, like totally, like literally, believed Iraq=Muslim + Saddam=Bad Guy therefore, War=Now.

Well not all of us bought it. I'm a very proud American and I did my patriotic duty by angrily protesting the Second Gulf War. I'm guessing many of you did too.

And when Neil Young woke up after years of shaggy dog Greendale story telling and Prairie Wind flatulence to rage against his adopted country's moral corruption, I felt relieved, proud and in sync with his anger.

Indeed, I'd argue that Living With War is a pretty cool chapter in Young's story. Not only was he right when he called us all out for being lazy and dumb, he also rehired his kick in the ass band from Eldorado and recorded everything with Ohio-level pace and boldness, writing and recording the album in less than two weeks and getting it out and into our ears within a month.

And just listen to the opening track! Young finds his riff on Old Black, nods at his six-cups-of-coffee drummer and then sounds immediately and deeply alive, shaking himself and all of us out of our Bush beer garden of complacency.

youtube

Cool, huh? It's almost 20 years later and George W. Bush's brand of homespun, ignorant evil appears quaint in comparison to the nonstop barrage of totalitarian terror being spouted on the campaign trail in and in the courts (seriously, if frozen embryos are now human beings why aren't refugees being welcomed with open arms and being offered all the jobs Americans like you and me rely on but refuse to do ourselves?) but I still feel pumped up when I listen to this song.

So why isn't the record a bigger deal? Why doesn't it shoulder its way into our thinking not just about Young but about that whole embarrassing era in our history? I'm afraid there are a few pretty good reasons why.

For one thing a lot of the writing sucks. In the earnest and almost soulful Roger and Out Young rhymes no words in the first verse, then decides to go big and connect "way" with "today" in the second verse, then shrugs and sets "today" alongside "yesterday" after that. This is coming from the guy who once wrote "roads stretch out like healthy veins, and wild gift horses strain the reigns." Come on Neil, confer with a dictionary.

One spot where the lyrics come alive in the upsetting and enjoyably silly The Restless Consumer. Check this frantic song out:

youtube

You can hear in the song that Young assembled a 100 person choir for this record and spent one 12 hour day teaching them to sing along with his best crazy grandpa voice on lines like:

Don't need no TV ad Telling me how sick I am Don't need to know how many people are like me Don't need no dizziness Don't need no nausea Don't need no side effects like diarrhea or sexual death

Roger that, Neil. When I see you live in April with the Horse (yes, I've got tickets, gods be praised) I promise I won't scream out from my cheap seats in the back about any of these topics you mention. But I will scream. Lots.

Another shortcoming on the record is Neil's unwillingness, or inability at that moment, to destroy and thereby uplift the songs with his own lead guitar.

Stroll through his wacky eclectic career and there are nearly no constants: one moment he's making violent computerized pop, the next he's impersonating Willie Nelson. By 2006 he had 40 years of proudly obstinate inconsistency under his belt. But Neil, at least when making band-oriented music, had - almost - always used a rhythm guitar player.

First there was Richie Furray and He Who Shall Not Be Named because he sucks.

(But that guitarist does appear, as we noted at the top, in today's opening photo from the Living with War era. You see, that's not Pizza the Hut standing with Neil in the image; it's You Know Who, or maybe we should call him You No Poo; Neil had a tour planned with Crosby, Satan and Nash long before he wrote and rushed out Living With War; then he foisted the record on them for their summer tour together; Stills was unimpressed by it all and complained a lot, probably because he'd voted for Bush in the first place and knew that the only people who still bought his records were dumb asses who'd followed his lead in the voting booth.)

Then along came Danny, Nils, Ben, and Poncho (and even Steve Cropper and the kids in Pearl Jam and Promise of the Reeled in Flounder). Occasionally, such as on Comes a Time and Old Ways, Neil used not one rhythm guitarist, but instead about 16 of them. He idolizes Hendrix but rarely tries to be him.

Living With War is, like the killer Eldorado, the snoozy Greendale and the confounding Le Noise that would soon follow, one of Neil's rare solo guitar attack moments. And, on this occasion anyway, it's a mistake.

Neil heard the album's basic tracks after his rushed and passionate recording session (he'd later release those first takes on their own as Living With War - In the Beginning) and knew there simply wasn't quite enough music to go around. He'd been too busy teaching the songs to the drummer, bass player and himself to remember to shred.

He could have summoned Poncho and given the whole project another week. He should have. Instead, he got all Bernard Shakey on us and brought in not just the 100 piece choir, who must have spent their 12 hour session alternatively inspired, snickering and baffled, but also a trumpeter. And we're not talking about Miles Davis and Don Cherry here.

Instead, it sounds like Neil stopped by the local high school, plucked the third chair from the marching band, then played slow enough to let him try, and fail, to keep up. Take a listen.

youtube

Even the choir and drunk trumpet weren't enough to entirely salvage such songs. You'll hear in the video above that Neil also brings back Re-ac-tor era space warfare sound effects and mixes in sound-clips of the Dubbya himself. This whole song and, for that matter, the whole album, is silly, inspired, simplistic, drunk and awesome all at once.

Sound like all the ingredients we need for another Shakey Sunday.

#Youtube #neil young #george w bush #iraq war #9/11 #living with war #shakey sundays #stephen stills sucks

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piedpiperslists · 1 year

Text

KSJ: Idol AU

List of all Seokjin fics under 'Idol' AU:

* s - contains smut

* Last updated: 28/05/2023

D R A B B L E S

[drabble] by alpacaparkaseok friends au

9:19 PM by likeastarstar enemies to lovers Summary: In the Soop.

All Over You by knamjooned angst, post breakup au

Cute by woodstockbtswriter friends to lovers Summary: In Jin’s eyes, the only thing as cute as RJ - is you.

Early Night by baojinnie friends to lovers Summary: You didn’t think you’d confess to Jin (for the first time!) thousands of miles apart, and on the phone. But would you have it any other way?

Judgement of Character by bang-prism staff!reader

Rewrite the Stars by taleasnewastime angst Summary: That kind of love where even if you love them it’s better to be apart than together.

Sweetest Devotion by bubblesuga friends to lovers Summary: In which Kim Seokjin falls for a long time friend.

The Social Butterfly by tinylint strangers to lovers Summary: Kim Seokjin hates being invited to events until he meets someone who finally helps him feel comfortable in a crowd, hopefully she feels the same about him.

O N E S H O T S

2D Reality by siderealmyg s wc~12.4k / ft JJK, fantasy au, PWP Summary: Jin likes his fair share of anime like everyone one else and knows not to question all the shit that goes on but when a big tiddie anime girl deadass pops out of a computer, he rightfully has a few concerns.

A Kiss of Marble by jinpire s wc~9.9k / vampire au Summary: His gaze trails down your nose and lingers on your lips, before falling to the curve of your neck and the tiny bend of your shoulder visible above your t-shirt, the attention so acute and suggestive that it feels like a tangible brush on your skin. “Hmm… I’ve got a few ideas.”

All’s Well That End’s Well by dreamescapeswriting wc~3.4k / angst, unrequited love, friends au

Cross the Line by winetae s wc~3.8k / FWB Summary: Seokjin knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t stop himself from coming back to you.

“Dolly Parton’s a real jerk, huh?” by taetaespeaches wc~2.7k / friends to lovers Summary: So this is very loosely based on “You Belong With Me”. It mostly just uses the general idea of the song and the whole “Hey isn’t this easy,” line.

Forever by oddinary4bts s wc~25.2k / chef!reader, exes to lovers Summary: Three years ago, your relationship with Jin ended in fights and tears. When life puts him back on your path, you catch a glimpse of light in his eyes that you thought had died when you broke up. Will your relationship blossom into a well-deserved forever or will you lose the love of your life again?

Opaline Moon by missgeniality s wc~11.2k / friends to lovers Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

Soju Find Me Funny? [AO3] by goodsoop wc~3.1k / friends to lovers Summary: Idol Kim Seokjin is known as World-Wide Handsome to his fans, but to you he's just the idiot you got stuck with on the biggest career move of your life. Until he steps across the threshold on the café accented with sparkly earrings.

* Three’s Perfect by ragingcravings s wc~4.4k / ft JHS, FWB, neighbors au, PWP Summary: All she has to do is give them a look and they know exactly what she needs.

Wild Side by mono-moonchilds s wc~4.1k / friends to lovers Summary: We can't just keep talkin' about it. We think too often about it. We can't just be cautious about it. I wanna get wild. Take me for a ride, boy. Show me your wild side, boy. Know it's been a while, boy. I wanna get wild.

Wrapped Up in You [AO3] by goodsoop s wc~2.9k / friends to lovers Summary: Jin shows up at the last minute, interrupting your solo masturbation session and asks for help wrapping his gifts…somehow one of you also ends up tied up.

“You can’t take it back now” by taetaespeaches wc~5.3k / friends to lovers Summary: Jin tries to confess to his best friend but those six hooligans keep accidentally interfering.

T W O S H O T S / S E R I E S

A Woman of a Certain Age by vyduan s childhood friends to lovers Summary: Y/N has known Seokjin since he was born. She has even helped change Seokjinnie’s diapers. Growing apart when Y/N went to the U.S. for college, Seokjin runs into Y/N when she is hired by Big Hit as a top consultant. Sparks fly despite Seokjin nursing a broken heart and Y/N trying to make partner at her firm. Will this noona ever see Seokjin as the man he now is?

Inevitable by vyduan s friends to lovers, FWB Summary: You slumped to the floor of the dance room, arms and legs starfished out, head crooked at an awkward angle against the wall. You were too tired to move. You heard Ha-joon tell you that you had a brief fifteen minute respite before your next schedule as he exited the room. You told yourself you were just going to close your eyes for a second. It was in this flattering position — limbs akimbo, joggers pulled up high and your sports bra soaked dark, flyaways stuck to your red, sweaty face — in which your new colleagues — the aforementioned Bangtan Sonyeondan — found you as they tumbled into the studio like a litter of noisy puppies. It was their commotion coupled with loud and overlapping apologies that startled you awake. Of course this would happen to you.

Long Term Couple by taetaespeaches s friends to lovers Summary: Drabble series on couple Seokjin x Poopsie.

#ksj list #seokjin fic

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shaftking · 2 years

Note

https://zuko-always-lies.tumblr.com/post/684440940181585920/as-someone-around-for-9-11-and-the-never-forget

These have gotta be some of the dumbest takes on this website. The fact that someone actually compared 9/11 to Trump formerly being president is fucking insane. They’re too busy whining about fake fascism to not give a fuck about a national tragedy and equate it to someone being in charge whom they personally did not like. I’d love to see these terminally online weirdos discuss Biden and his communistic regime becoming an actual national threat, but that would require them to actually give a shit about America, huh. (Plus idk if you’ve seen Avatar: The Last Airbender but that part about the show makes absolutely no sense lmao).

Jesus what the fuck. 9/11 is one of the most catastrophic national tragedies in many of our lifetimes, if not US history. I’m not above some dark humor or jokes about things like 9/11 but I still have some reverence for the fact that so many people died in a way that we are still feeling the fallout from.

My parents and people around their age could tell you where they were and what they were doing at the exact moment that they saw the live broadcast of 9/11. This event sent shockwaves through the US for a reason. Even seeing the footage and firsthand accounts are difficult.

People using a tragedy or responding to it with authoritarianism doesn’t make it irrelevant or worthy of some kind of scorn in and of itself.

Like, yeah, a lot of us don’t remember it firsthand. But that doesn’t make it less of a tragedy or a horrific terrorist attack. And yeah it led to some seriously asinine shit like the Patriot Act but we’ve basically all agreed that that was one of the biggest blunders of the Bush administration. And the Iraq war was started by Bush certainly, but it was continued by Obama who was just as much of a warhawk and it only started to decline under Trump when his administration began planning for a strategic removal of troops from the area.

And on the ATLA stuff. I’m a huge fan of the show, and I’ve seen it upwards of a dozen times because I just get obsessed with media and I have to say that comparison is absolutely nonsense.

The show takes deliberate inspiration from Japanese imperialism but also makes sure to give it a broad enough message and theme that it could apply to other things as well. To say it’s implicitly about the US and the Iraq war is ridiculous.

And to compare an event that deliberately and suddenly killed thousands to Trump’s election or administration or the mismanagement and authoritarianism of officials during the Covid19 outbreak is insane. And then to accuse the republicans of “descending into fascism” while these same people advocated for medical mandates and fucking concentration camps just last year. I don’t think they lack awareness I think they’re so wrapped up in their own bullshit to realize that their lies are only working on themselves.

#ask #to be clear I don’t hold any love for republicans but I think #that on the whole #I would trust their slowness and incompetence over #the active malice of the democrats

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ashesinthewritten · 8 months

Text

Hello lovely peoples.

I just want to let all you A03 users & writers know that there’s been scammers on ao3. And this is all about my own thoughts on the matter and the parts where I poke holes in the scam comment.

Recently, i got a comment on one of my wip fics, that only has 1 chapter on it. And this will be a long post so beware. I’ll cut it in two paras.

Formality in a Comment?

My first thought, like other people, was that this is too formal for a fan fiction comment; this was formatted as an email from some sketchy person and/or bot. And this is obviously not my email.

2. No Specifics This comment did not name any specifics of this so-called Discord group, or who to contact (discord admin, mod, whatever they’re called, or otherwise)

2.1 Who’s in Charge?

For example: they did not name what the group is called, or when it was founded.

3. There are HOW MANY? Original Writers?

This person also stated that there was over TEN THOUSAND original writers. So let’s dissect that statement some more.

3.1 How would they manager?

I find it hard to believe that a Discord group with that many members is manageable in any way. And while I know that there are some groups that will have over 1,000 members. 10,000 members just seems…fake.

3.2 So many members, feels random.

And while 10,000 may be an alluring number, like with money, or ratings (like the 10,000/10 would recommend)

I do not find 10,000 other people, who may or may not be active, alluring. It would feel competitive. Like vying for attention, and bumping shoulders with the crowd to even get a crumb of advice.

I feel that—in my own opinion—smaller supportive communities are the way to go.

3.3 Original Writers? You came to the wrong place.

Original writers. Hun. This story you commented on is fan fiction. Specifically Hermitcraft SMP. A fandom about some silly Minecraft YouTubers that make fans giggle, froth, get feral, and sink our jaws into their minute or extensive lore and characters for fluff or angst.

3.3.1 Seriously. Wrong place

This story is FAN FICTION, if you wanted more OG Writers, go look in the OG Fiction filter/tab.

4. No regards for my feedback of this offer

Like other people have pointed out, this ‘person’ immediately distributed their discord link into my comments without feedback.

5. Exposed link in my comments, no safety

Literally anyone could have joined that discord (if we believed it was real) and could have tried scamming or corrupting or hacking the ‘10,000’ writers who may or may not be using that discord for their personal info, like data or credit cards.

6. You put a discord invite into a total stranger’s fic

Need I say more?

Why would a complete stranger put an entire. Discord invite into another complete stranger’s comments on a—primarily—Fan fiction website?

7. Where is the common sense?

If this was real, why would you knowingly share an invite to a stranger, where not just that specific Stranger could join, but literally any rando who stumbled upon that story.

7.1 Why would anyone trust you again

again if this was real, and i was apart of this ‘writing community’ why would I ever trust the person who blatantly exposed the invite to strangers unknown.

IF I was apart of that group I would inform everyone and high tail it the heck out of dodge so my info wouldn’t get compromised.

8. Nearly done now.

The comment ended with, “best, []”

There was no real username that signed off this note. No ways to contact this commenter. Clearly this comment was fake.

9. Checking the source

After I found this comment I read it, and thought, “yep, this is scam.”

And promptly opened up a fresh Ao3 tab, went to the work with this comment and tried clicking on the username.

and guess what? It didn’t work.

So then I tried searching for it, straight up, in Ao3 search. And there was nothing to find.

who would have thought, huh?

10.FINAL THOUGHTS

THIS IS FAKE, DO NOT USE THE INVITE, DO NOT TRUST SHIT LIKE THIS.

and REPORT THEM.

11. REPORT THESE SCAMMERS.

and don’t just mark them as spam in your work! This will not go to a real person! It will get looked at by an algorithm, I think

you have to actually report them to get it to stop happening.

A different blog said report them for “Commercial” something or other. do that!

it was the Third Suggestion in Ao3’s report abuse form for me.

if you need help, just search it up that’s how I found the form

0 notes

mrpenguinpants · 3 years

Text

Xiao: First Kiss HCs

I’m so sorry it took me actually forever to reply to you. But I really hope you like this and it was somewhat worth the wait;; I tried really hard but ty for liking my Xiao content and yes! Let’s be absolute trash for Xiao. In this house we only believe in Xiao supremacy 💕💕

---

Semi Part 1: Friendship

Semi Part 2: Falling in Love

Semi Part 3: Cuddles

Semi Part 4: Protective

Semi Part 5: Affection

Semi Part 6: Jealously

Semi Part 8: Opposites Attract

Semi Part 9: String of Fate [Soulmate] HCs

Semi Part 10: [ Fainting ]

---

Childe Ver: First Kiss HCs

Venti & Kaeya: Mistletoe HCs

Venti, Xingqiu, and Razor: Kissing HCs

Considering how many more Xiao fics I need to write. This semi part link might not be a good idea lol. Also let’s ignore if I wrote in a kiss in a previous post haha.

---

[taglist] <- if you want to be added, please read this first.

@hanniejji @mikeysbike @unionwitch @musekala @twistedsunnshiii @stanzastic @akaasea @xoneaboveallx @adoring-ghost @asheseiler @childelover@youaskedfurret @snowy224

---

Xiao: First Kiss HCs

When you and Xiao first got together. It was a slow and steady process of learning each other boundaries and what felt comfortable. Xiao knew he was a difficult partner but you loved him and even becoming his friend was a slow and worthwhile adventure. It started off small leading from small handholding, to cuddling, to showing each other affection. But the one area that you both weren’t familiar in was kisses. He was an isolated adepti and you were an adventurer. You didn’t have any experience in being kissed and Xiao sure as hell didn’t either. Plus it was a lot more intimate and nerve wracking compared to holding hands and that was an hard hill to tackle in itself.

You didn’t mind that he wasn’t comfortable with initiating affection or never went in or talked about kisses. You were just happy that he was by your side and that your love was reciprocated. That he was comfortable in your presence and seemed content in your arms. It still made you a bit giddy when you reflected on how far you both came and that was enough for you. Xiao, on the other hand, couldn’t exactly say the same. While he was happy and he was content, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe your relationship was too one-sided? He knew that you were comfortable and okay with waiting for him to work out his issues and figuring out how to love again but he also really wanted to do more. He just wasn’t sure how to start.

It suddenly dawned on him one day when he saw you off on your next journey, that he had never really kissed you. Even a small goodbye kiss. It was usually you initiating affection or giving words of love and you always told him that it didn’t matter if he said it or not. His actions said more which always made him flush a bit. But on slow and quiet days where you were off on another adventure and Liyue was calm, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to you. To your face, your bright eyes that would light up whenever you talked about the interesting sights you saw on your journey, the curve of your nose whenever he tapped it when you started to ramble on to much, your lips and how they would spread into a soft smile when it was just the two of you.

Xiao quickly flipped himself up into a sitting position and groaned into his hands. What was happening to him? He needed to take a walk to clear his mind again. He’s been going out a lot since he met you. He had faced an army of demons and fought in a war and yet this felt like the hardest challenge of his entire thousand year long life. He could almost hear Guizhong’s laughter at his predicament and her words of wisdom saying to take whatever problem he had and face it head on. Just without his spear. The spear needs to stay home.

So the next time you visited Wangshu Inn he asked for you to close your eyes. You complied but you were surprised, sitting by the railing facing Liyue up on the balcony. Was he going to gift you something? This was the first time he asked you to close your eyes but you trusted him. You could almost feel the anxiety waving off Xiao so you kept quiet and patient and waited for him to be ready.

He was ready. He could do this. You weren’t even looking at him so what was there to be worried about? He slowly leaned in, just hovering above your lips. But then he leaned back a bit, flushing red. He nearly chewed his lip before stopping since you probably didn’t want to taste blood. It wasn’t that he wasn’t ready or he thought that you would hate it, he was just nervous in messing up. What if his accidently transformed? What if he accidently pushed you off the railing? Even worse, what if someone showed up and saw you both like this?

Turns out he didn’t need to worry. Somewhat. Zhongli, who Xiao knew now was actually Rex Lapis in disguise, made a sudden appearance behind him. The whiplash of suddenly seeing his Master, the nervous butterfly’s fluttering in his stomach, and pep talk Xiao was trying to pound into his mind made him suddenly lurch forward and kiss you deeply. A bit too deeply as his little fangs nipped at your bottom lip.

“Zhongli!?”

“Rex Lapis?!”

You both quickly broke apart as your eyes flew open when you heard the man but also surprise at the sudden but, not completely unpleasant, pain and pressure on your lips. You could almost see the soul leave Xiao’s body when he spun around to see the surprised Zhongli. It was silent for a moment, all three of you just staring at each other. You were still processing what the hell just happened, Xiao was trying to find a way to astral project, and Zhongli was computing the fact that yes, the ever grumpy and “don’t touch me” yaksha both had a lover and was in the middle of...courting.

“Oh. My apologies. I wasn’t aware you were both occupied. I shall take my leave and visit another day then.” Zhongli simply nodded and left before you or Xiao could say anything. You both stared at the empty figure of where Zhongli was before you started to burst into laughter at the situation. You really felt bad, you did honestly, but with all the overwhelming emotions you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m...sorry. I didn’t know he was going to visit today,” Xiao muttered as he pressed his hand into his face and groaned at the embarrassing moment. You could see the tips of his ears were getting redder by the second which made you chuckle. For such a fearsome Yaksha he was really cute sometimes.

“It’s okay Xiao. I don’t mind. But are you alright?” you stifled the last of your giggles and reached out to pull him closer and remove his hand from his red face before cupping his cheek. He huffed but leaned into your hand. He really was sometimes like a cat.

“Are you hurt? Was I...too forward?” Xiao asked but he still wouldn’t look you in the eye. The floor was very interesting this afternoon. Wood was nice. Wood was good.

“No! It was...nice,” you answered, starting to go a bit pink yourself now before you felt a stinging pain in the corner of your lip, “Ah. I think you might accidently bit my lip though.”

“I see,” Xiao was now looking at you with his piercing eyes as he watched your small pink tongue brush over the corner of your bottom lip. His attention began to focus on that small part as the world seem to narrow down. Just the two of you. But unlike when you both would lie on top of the inn and watch the sun go down he felt hungry.

“Do you-”

Before you could ask anything Xiao suddenly pounced and pressed his lips against yours in a heated kiss. He took you by surprise but you quickly recovered as you gripped the purple ribbon on his back and yanked him forward as his hands slammed against the railing, trapping you. You felt his tongue press against your lips as you slowly opened them to let him in. It was overwhelming and you were sure if you hadn’t been grabbing onto the purple ribbon you would have fell over but then a sudden deep rumble snapped you out of your trance.

“Xiao? Are you...Are you purring?” you giggled when you got a tiny but of separation from the lack of air but he frowned at you, really it looked more like a pout, before leaning over once again. Just barely brushing over your lips as he whispered

“Meow”

---

This isn’t even OOC anymore. I feel like I’m writing a fucking k-drama right now, what am I doing anymore? English? Huh? I do not compute.

I’ve just awakened something in me with Cat! Xiao and I am flying with it (and casually ignoring lore. Isn’t he a bird?). Heading straight for the stratosphere and you cannot stop me. Just gonna hide away in shame now don’t look at me.

Okay. Time to commit sleep for uh 2 hours lol. I’m really tired but I feel kinda proud of myself haha. Tomorrow’s fics are going to be Venti, Lisa and Diluc pairing, and Venti and Barbara pairing. Good night!

Oh, and yes there is a lot more Xiao content to come and uhh might continue this cat!xiao idea. Unless that’s too weird. I’m sorry don’t shame me pls 😰

my god tumble just work. i dont want to deal with you and your tags.

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moonflms · 3 years

Text

➷｡˚surprise? — nct jeno

PROLOGUE ༄ — the surprise of getting your boyfriend's dream dog for his birthday became a bit ruined knowing that another samoyed came home earlier than expected.

PAIRING ༄ - boyfriend! jeno x fem! reader

GENREs ༄ - fluff, puppy boyfie, puppy son, renjun supportive bff

W. COUNT ༄ - around 1k+

WARNINGS༄ - swearing (do i have to add this i literally swear in my stories JHSDKJS)

TAGS ༄ - @cupfullofjeno @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 (if you wanna be tagged in my stories then feel free to reach out to me ! <3)

➷｡min's letter ༄ - rushed bc i honestly lost the ability to write HJSDHJSDH btw help me with tags bc my tumblr won't allow me to add more tags???

do not repost. copyright belongs to @moonflms 2021. reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! originally posted on my wattpad (@johnsparrot) . enjoy reading!

masterlist

"okay, so here's the plan. you're staying in the guest room until jeno's birthday which is in three days. you'll make it, right?" you glanced at the passenger's seat beside you, talking to the 9 weeks old samoyed puppy you got just a few moments ago from the pet barber.

"plus, jeno's not supposed to come home 'til friday." stopping on a red light, you petted the puppy, who was bunched in a blue blanket. "jeno hasn't stopped yapping about how he really wanted a samoyed y'know." the puppy yawned as he stood on his seat, scratching his ear with his hind leg. you smiled as you mumbled a small 'good boy' then continued to focus on driving. you were close to the condo you both lived in, just a few more turns and you're home.

your samoyed was unplanned, to be honest. both you and your boyfriend jeno were huge dog lovers. with jaemin who introduced the breed to him as his twin, jeno simply fell in love with the bear-like dog. although you both were ready in raising a dog, the plan of actually getting one never pushed through, more like being set to the side a couple of times.

but recently hearing that jeno's friend taeyong had his samoyed give birth to a litter of small cub-like puppies, you seized the chance to get one for jeno, just in time for his birthday. and guess what? it only took a few boxes of ferrero rochers and a new dog mattress and bam! you got the puppy without spending thousands.

pulling up in the parking lot, you carried the puppy from his seat on one hand and carried his small dog crate on the other, you were ready to head up the elevator until you saw jeno's car parked a few slots across yours.

"huh?" you stopped in the middle of your trail and looked at the plate number, it was exactly jeno's. you immediately moved to the side placing the crate down and got your phone out of your pocket, calling jeno.

"henlooo?"

"are you upstairs?" you sounded rushed. "yep! we came back from the resort earlier than expected. surprise!"

. .

"sweets?" jeno called out as you lowkey panicked. "y-yeah! hold on uh, the parking is a bit crowded so i'll have to park farther than usual, i'll head up in a bit." you quickly ended the call as you looked at your puppy.

crap crap crap crap

plans were a bit ruined knowing how jeno's back from his trip with his friends earlier than expected. your worry was how would you bring the puppy in without surprising another samoyed who's waiting by the doorstep of your door. you can't leave the puppy in the car, nor you couldn't sleep in the car just to accompany the puppy. time was ticking as your boyfriend was expecting you already upstairs.

but oh thank god that your prayers were heard. walking away from his car, you saw a familiar red-headed guy. it was none other than your friend and neighbor, renjun.

"hOLY SHIT YES!" you quickly ran to renjun juggling the puppy and crate on both hands. scaring the man with your loud voice and footsteps, renjun halted for you to arrive. "did you seriously miss me that mu— awwee how cute!"

quickly putting the crate down, renjun took the puppy from his arms and cradled it, "how cute you are! what's your name-" the puppy sneezed as renjun smiled and muttered a 'bless you'. " 'sneeze' it is then."

"he's nameless as of now, but please do me a favor." you quickly asked as renjun continued to play with the puppy's paws. "depends, what's your boon this time, y/n?"

"can the pup stay over your room? like, for at least until jeno's birthday?" you clasped your hands together trying to persuade him. "woah, woah, hold on. first, i'm more of a cat guy. second, i'd love to but the puppy would end up chew—"

"taeyong gave me a few of his toys and he got his own bed and food and pad and—"

"just please, it wouldn't be a surprise anymore." renjun knowing how his buddy loved a cute samoyed (obviously he's a witness as well of jeno's constant spazzing) his soft heart ends up agreeing. "if he chews on my slippers, you're getting me a new pair. just saying" he shrugged as he took the dog crate from you as well. "thanks a lot 'junnie!"

"hold on, the dog food?"

shit.

"i'll bring it don't worry"

the dog food was hidden inside your kitchen's cabinet.

you headed up ahead to your room, once you did you were tackled in a hug as soon the door opened. "what took you long?" jeno patted your head as he continued to cling to you. "parking was crowded, plus i had a talk with renjun just a while ago." jeno hummed an oh as he continued to stick to you.

"was supposed to surprise you when i got home but you were out, so i took a nap. and also, you smell like dog perfume?" jeno sniffed your shirt, it was the puppy's perfume that stuck to your shirt. "i helped taeyong bathed his puppies, so... yeah."

jeno whined as he starts his spazzing once again, "y/nnn let's get a dog pleasee" you giggled as you remembered you still had to sneak a huge-ass dog food pack to renjun which momentarily was impossible, having a boyfie who was y/n deprived.

"how about after your birthday, hmm?" jeno's signature eye smile showed as he continued to hug you but much tighter. "alright, i'll head up to pick up a few things."

as soon jeno grabbed his phone and left, you took out the small sack of dog food and rushed to renjun's floor.

finally calming down after changes to your surprise, you excitedly walked over to where renjun and your dog were.

standing in front of the door, you placed the pack down and took your phone; before you could even dial renjun, he called you first.

"i'm in front of your door" you waved to the peephole thinking that renjun was looking through

"uh hey y/n i kinda— wait WHAT?"

the door quickly opened while you motioned to pick up the dog pack. now carrying the dog essential in your arms, you faced renjun.

who was sitting by the living room.

and a jeno who answered the door.

your jaw dropped at the sight of your boyfriend.

"close your mouth, sweets! it's my surprise, not yours. hmm?" jeno taunted as you whined as the surprise backfired.

you stepped into the room as you immediately went for renjun.

"I WAS SUPPOSED TO TELL YOU THAT JENO LEFT A FEW THINGS FOR HIM TO PICK UP," you sat down on the couch and attacked the red-haired guy, "hEY IT WASN'T MY FAULT I FORGOT YOU SUDDENLY SCREAMED AND RAN UP TO ME AWHILE AGO"

you plopped to the floor beside jeno, who was playing with the puppy. "well, surprise love!" jeno giggled as you felt a bit glum, hugging you almost instantly. "i named her cloud~"

you pecked jeno's cheek, you were now raising two samoyed babies.

"jeno sweetie, it's a male though" renjun bursted out laughing as you patted his head, still processing how he finally had a fluffy son who takes after him.

229 notes · View notes

flowerismi · 2 years

Text

Experience, Chapter 13

Merry Christmas to all and everyone! Even if you don't celebrate, I wish you the best! I apologize for not posting sooner, just been very busy... 😅❤️

In the morning Hinata had woken up at 9. It felt nice to just sleep. She had decided to wear a royal blue skirt. Reaching above her knees. Underneath she had black thighs. And black heels with ankle straps. She had a white shirt with long sleeves. The top buttons open. Showing her collarbone. Her hair was down. And she smelled like flowers.

At the office Sasuke had been in meetings all day. She knew what the meetings were about. It was the service centers reports.

Sasuke saw his father over the computer. His brother was also there, as well as other CEO's of departments around the world. He tried to keep a straight posture. But his father's disappointing face was like a knife cutting through him. Many of the reports and files from the service center had been messed up. And as Sasuke looked further into the works of the different departments in his office. It became clear that a lot of reports were messed up. The numbers simply didn't add up. And it all came back to him as CEO of this department. Sasuke could see the grim faces of some of the other CEO's. They enjoyed the humiliation of Sasuke. The son of the top CEO of the company. Sasuke knew they didn't respect him. And that they felt like he didn't deserve the title as CEO. And Sasuke had done everything in his power to prove them wrong. But with a mistake like this. It was hard to prove anything but laziness and failure.

Hinata had finished her work for the day. She was standing by her desk with a cup in her hand. She was about to call Sasuke over her desk phone. But then the big wooden door opened. And Sasuke stood on the other side. The sun was hitting him from a side view behind him. He looked exhausted and furiated. His hair hanging down his face. As hair did after a long day. And she noticed how long it had become. Compared to when she first started working with him. He was wearing a navy blue suit. His pants clinging to his muscles. He had opened the blazer, and the top buttons of his white shirt underneath. Exposing his neck and collarbone. Hinata blushed and took a small breath.

"I uhm... I made you some coffee..."

She said and stepped up to Sasuke holding the cup out to him. It wasn't his usual cup. This one had small cartoon dogs on the side. Sasuke reached for the cup. He held it up. Looking at the sides confused.

"... Did Naruto take my cup..."

Sasuke said irritated. Hinata looked up at him with a small smile. Her eyebrows furrowed. Her face was answer enough for him.

"That fucking ass..."

Sasuke said angry. He took a sip of the hot coffee. He enjoyed the bitter taste. It complemented his mood. Bitter, hot and annoyed. He was about to turn around and leave back into his office. But as he turned his head, he saw Hinata's face. She was looking out the huge windows in her office. Standing a few centimeters from him. She was still smiling. She looked peaceful. Sasuke enjoyed looking at her. The sun hitting her pale skin and dark hair. But as he stood there admirering her beauty. He noticed her eyes. They looked sad. And he thought he saw a tear run down her cheek. Sasuke hated seeing her like this. It irritated him. The way she was hiding her pain by smiling. Pretending she was happy and okay.

"... Miss Hyuga"

Sasuke said. Hinata turned her head to face him. She still had a small smile on her lips.

"Are you heading home?"

He asked.

"... Huh?... Yeah... I-I was about to..."

Hinata said softly. The tear from before was gone. Maybe he just imagined it. But her eyes said a thousand words. They were filled with sadness. And he couldn't ask her why. He couldn't hold her and tell her everything was going to he alright. They didn't share that kind of relationship. It made him pissed off, that he had to hold back like this. He clicked his tongue. And turned his face away from her. 'Huh? Did he just click his tongue?... Is he annoyed that I'm leaving? Maybe I should stay...' Hinata argued with herself.

"... Mr. Uchiha?... I can stay if you need me to?..."

Hinata asked softly, hesitant to speak. Sasuke looked confused at her. 'Is she saying that because she actually wants to stay... Or.... Because she thinks I'm annoyed that she's leaving...' Sasuke asked himself.

"Miss Hyuga... You should go home... You've already stayed longer than everyone else..."

Sasuke said. He wanted her to stay. But if she did, he wouldn't get any work done. And with all the shit his father had yelled at him all day. He probably should get some work done.

"... Okay... Well... I'll see you tomorrow...."

Hinata said quietly. And smiled at him again. She turned around, as she went over to grab her bag and jacket. Sasuke stood in the door frame sipping at his coffee. Observing her. She went over to the glass door. Holding it open, she gazed over at Sasuke.

"Goodnight Mr. Uchiha"

Hinata said with a soft smile. Sasuke smirked at her.

"Sleep well Miss Hyuga..."

He said teasingly. Hinata blushed. She bowed and went out the door. Sasuke's eyes followed her through the glass wall, as she went down the hallway. When she disappeared, he let out a sigh. 'Then it's tomorrow...' Sasuke thought. He was about to turn around and leave into his office. But the glass door opened up again. And in came a spiky blonde man. Sasuke took one look at him. And closed the wooden door.

"Oi!"

Sasuke thought he heard a voice yelling. And the wooden door opened shortly after.

"You asshole! Why did you close the door in my face!"

Naruto yelled. Sasuke raised an eyebrow. Looking disappointed and irritated at him.

"Wtf is this huh?"

Sasuke asked and pointed to his cup of coffee with cartoon dogs on the side. Naruto took a moment.

"... Is that a trick question?"

Naruto asked. Sasuke face-palmed himself.

"Hey!"

Naruto yelled at him again.

"Stop yelling you idiot..."

Sasuke said annoyed. Naruto looked curiously at Sasuke.

"I saw Hinata leave... Is she always staying this late?"

Naruto then asked. Hearing Naruto using her first name irritated him.

"... Why do you care?"

Sasuke said, trying to hide his irritation. Naruto looked suspicious at him.

"What do you mean, why do you care, huh? She's my friend's cousin... He wouldn't forgive me if you made her work overtime to the point of exhaustion..."

Naruto said. Sasuke became more pissed off.

"She works the closest to you... And you're a freaking workaholic. But don't make her into one, just because you can't stop working"

Naruto continued.

"What the hell do you know about the work I do!... Beside it's her own fucking choice to stay"

Sasuke answered.

"Yeah right... Obviously she's staying because she feels obligated to do so."

Naruto said. Sasuke really had enough of him.

"What do you want idiot?"

Sasuke asked annoyed. Not looking at the blonde man. Naruto wanted to yell at Sasuke again for calling him an idiot. But he decided not too. Naruto knew that Sasuke had been yelled at by his father all day. And he understood the pressure and energy it required to keep a straight face.

"... Why else... It's friday tomorrow. Which means Hinata has been here a month. And I want to make sure you make the right decision."

Naruto said. Sasuke walked over and sat in a chair. His office had two chairs and a sofa around a small table. He would normally have conversations with clients or colleagues there.

" And what is the right decision huh? "

Sasuke asked with a smirk. Naruto walked over and sat in the other chair.

"Obviously you should hire her..."

Naruto said with a smile. Sasuke crossed his legs. Of course he wanted to hire her. He wanted to get her that small electric car, so she could stay late with him. There was a lot of things he wanted for her. But things weren't that easy. She had to make the choice to stay. And Sasuke was also thinking, about whether it would be wise to have her around more. He was already struggling behaving around her as it was. But employing her fulltime would increase their time together. Then they would go on buisness trips together. He would have to get his shit together. Not fantasizing about her while sleeping with other people.

"Sasuke?... Earth to Sasuke?... SASUKE!"

Naruto ended up yelling. Sasuke looked at the idiot in front of him.

"Didn't I just tell you to stop the fucking yelling."

Sasuke said hizzing at Naurto.

"Well you didn't reply..."

Naruto said. He looked over at his friend.

"Sasuke... Do you get enough sleep?"

Naruto asked. Sasuke looked annoyed at Naruto. Not answering the question.

"... Sasuke... I'm just worried about you... I know it's hard-"

Naruto tried to say.

"No Naruto! You don't know shit! You can make as many mistake as you want! It will have zero consequences! You're family will always have your back!"

Sasuke yelled back at Naruto. Naruto became silent. They sat in silence as the sun began to set. Naruto then smilled at Sasuke.

"Well next weekend is your mother's birthday. It'll be nice with a small break. I can't wait!"

Naruto said. Sasuke took a breath.

"... Yeah"

He then answered Naruto.

The next day was weird. Hinata came in to the office as usual. She wore a tight violet dress with long sleeves and boat neckline. She had thighs matching her skin and black Mary Jane high heels. The top of her hair in a braid. And her lower hair loose. She had rosegold dangle earrings with amethyst stones. And a rosegold neckles, with small stars distributed across the chain. Her colleagues hadn't asked her further on whether she had decided to stay. Instead they had enjoyed their time with her. And trying to get the best atmosphere. So she wouldn't want to leave them.

Hinata had gotten up, and was about to ask Sasuke what he wanted for lunch.

"Mr. Uchiha?..."

She asked over the desk phone. It took a moment before an answer came.

"Miss Hyuga?..."

He answered. Hinata giggled a little at the way he answered.

"What would you like for lunch?"

She asked.

"Mhm... Surprise me..."

Sasuke said softly. Hinata opened her eyes wide. He had never said that before. He had answered with, whatever or I don't care, a few times before. But never, surprise me, with that soft and teasing voice. Hinata blushed. When he used his voice like that. It always sent a shiver down her spine. And made her face heat up.

'... M-Maybe it's a test. My final test before he makes his decision on whether to fire or employ me' Hinata said to herself. She put her hands to her cheeks, to try and cool them down.

"Okay, I'll go bring something then"

Hinata replied. She got up and grabbed her jacket. On the way down she noticed she had gotten a message on her phone.

'...huh! John? Oh that's right. We're going out tonight' Hinata thought as she read the message. She stood still for a moment. She felt a lump in her stomach. 'No! This is good. I can't keep feeling like this around Mr. Uchiha. Maybe John and I can get to know each other better. And then I hopefully won't feel like this for Mr. Uchiha' Hinata argued with herself. She continued walking down the hallway.

Hinata came back and had chosen a chicken sandwich for Sasuke. As well as coffee and a water with lemon taste.

"Mr. Uchiha I brought your lunch. May I come in?"

Hinata asked over the desk phone.

"Yes please come in"

She heard Sasuke replying. Hinata went over and opened the big wooden door. For some reason she felt like it was heavier to open than normal. Probably because she hadn't eaten lunch yet. Sasuke was sitting by his desk. Tasting on the keyboard. Hinata went over and placed the lunch on the small table by the chairs and mini sofa.

He was wearing a dark silver suit. With a white shirt underneath the suits jacket. His shoes were black leather. And he had a dark emereld green tie on as well. The suit was sitting tight. He had the top buttons opened on the shirt. Exposing his neck and collarbone. When he had his clothes like that. Almost all the eyes of the company employees turned after him, as he walked down the hallways. Hinata blushed slightly and then turned around to leave.

"Miss Hyuga..."

Sasuke said suddenly. Hinata stopped and turned around fast. Nervous about what he was about to say.

"Yes!?"

Hinata said a little loud. She blushed heavily after at her minor outburst. Clenching her hands. Sasuke looked up surprised as well. Raising his eyebrow at her.

"... Will you join me for lunch today?"

Sasuke then asked. Hinata looked wondering at him. 'But I already brought him lunch? Does he want to go out anyway?' Hinata thought. Sasuke could read her wondering facial expression.

"There is something I would like to discuss. We'll be sitting in here..."

Sasuke said, and gestured in the direction of the chairs and the sofa. Hinata' s face showed her slight relief and understanding, that they didn't have to go out. But simply sit in his office.

"Ah okay... Then I'll go get my lunch."

Hinata said and smiled softly. Her cheeks slightly pink. '...Cute...' Sasuke's subconsciousness whispered to him. He facepalmed himself, as the door closed behind Hinata. 'Stop yourself dammit' he hizzed at himself.

To be continued...

Thank you so much for reading!

First

Overview

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tealquacks · 4 years

Text

They Share a Kitchen 3: Grocery Gathering

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/58625389

@alexalexisalexej

I’m sorry this took so long, but I hope y’all enjoy!

It had been a little over a week since Remus made the croissants, and the daily routines still hadn’t quite recovered. At breakfast, Virgil showed up ten minutes later than usual, and stood nervously in the doorway, checking to make sure nobody unexpected would be in the kitchen. Roman never came to visit the kitchen, but Patton brought him meals three times a day— 9:30 am, 1:20 pm, and 5:50 pm. Virgil would occasionally join him.

Patton and Janus still met for tea every single day, but they never stayed in the kitchen anymore. Patton would ask Janus to take walks with him. They’d stroll through Roman’s side of the imagination, then drink their tea and talk. The only reason Logan knew this was because Patton brought it up at dinner one night. Virgil left shortly after.

The only people who remained unaffected were Remus and him. They kept to their usual schedules. Except now Logan found himself staying up late to talk to Remus while he cooked. He had yet to make paella— something about wanting to save it for a special occasion.

Every day felt like a special occasion. Logan couldn’t help but stare at the charts he had made, one pre-Remus, and one post-Remus. Color coded and organized. Pristine.

“It’s surprising,” Logan had said at breakfast that morning, eating some waffles Patton had made, “that Remus spending one day in the kitchen threw all of our schedules into chaos.”

Virgil glared at him silently. Patton stared down blankly at his waffles.

“I don’t like him,” Patton murmured.

“You seem to get along with Deceit just fine,” Virgil spat, lip twitching in silent anger. Patton sighed.

“His name is Janus, Virgil. Be polite.”

“Why should I care?”

“Because it’s rude to call him Deceit— Logan, how would you feel if we only called you Logic?”

Logan sat straight. If he said he didn’t care, that would be mostly honest. If he said he did care, that would make it seem he had some sort of emotional attachment to his name. He swallowed.

“I don’t care either way. However, Janus now seems to prefer we address him by his real name. Besides, deceit is not his only function.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, staring angrily down at his plate of waffles. That was the end of the conversation at the breakfast table. Logan ate in silence, slowly sipping water out of a glass with a lemon on the rim.

Now, he sat at his desk. The clock said it was 2:28 pm. The kitchen would be perfectly empty, since Virgil and Patton no longer had their little talks in the kitchen. Logan didn’t know where they went, and he didn’t care to ask. Of course he worried about them, but he didn’t think where they talked mattered so much. He set down his pen, thinking of when Roman had run from the kitchen in horror, Remus doing nothing but sitting at the table.

Suddenly, someone knocked at his door. Logan stood from his comfortable office chair, and walked to the door. He adjusted his tie and smoothed his hair down before calmly opening it. That calm facade almost broke when he saw Remus on the other side, wearing a painfully bright yellow bucket hat, a fishnet shirt, and a green pair of cargo shorts. He had a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hello, Remus.”

“You remember how you said I should make paella? Well I thought real long and hard and I thought that you could not only help me with the cooking but you could also help me with gathering the shit that goes in it! Like clams and mussels. One recipe says squid but I’ve honestly never cooked with squid and I’m not interested in fucking with that.”

Logan blinked, slowly trying to take in the information, and the sight of Remus before him. Remus never came to his room. Nobody did. It seemed like there had been an unspoken rule made, that he was never to be interrupted. Now the matter at hand.

“You want me to accompany you in collecting the ingredients?”

Remus nodded violently, causing the bright hat to flop off his head. He picked it up, and put it back on. Logan blinked.

“I’ll take that as a yes. And this involves going under the water?”

“No shit Sherlock! That’s where the mussels are! Unless you count these guns—“ Remus flexed his arms, a stunning smile on his face. Logan looked at the bag he carried, then to the yellow hat on his head.

“I think it would be best if you changed into something more… sensible.”

Remus wagged his brows, leaning up against the doorway.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m wearing a speedo under these shorts.”

“I meant the hat. It will make you very, very visible.”

“It’s okay,” Remus rebutted, “I think fish are colorblind. Maybe. Do you know?”

Logan gnawed on the inside of his lip. He didn’t know. He couldn’t say so, that would be seen as weakness. But Remus was… different, somehow, uncaring about strength and weakness. He took a slow, deep breath.

“I honestly don’t know,” Logan responded, “most fish only see two colors, but I’m unsure how many can see yellow. However, if your plans are to go underwater, it would be wise to forgo the hat.”

Remus shrugged, took off his hat, and tossed it into Logan’s room. It landed on the neat sheets of his bed.

“We won’t be in the water the whole time,” Remus said, “we still have to get other things? Like, erm, I don’t have the recipe on me but we’re almost out of apples, and honey— honey will be a bitch to get but you know what I have?”

Logan furrowed his brows, staring at the bag.

“A beekeeping suit, a smoker, and an apiary of some sort?”

“Nope! Just my morning star and overwhelming hubris!”

Logan didn't know what he’d expected. Of course Remus wouldn’t go about getting honey in any sort of logical way.

“There are other things we will need.”

“You have a special request?”

Logan shook his head.

“I don’t. But paella requires saffron,” Logan explained. “Saffron is derived from the stigma of Crocus sativus.”

“Huh? What’s uh….” Remus trailed off, snapping his fingers a few times. “What’s the common name of that?”

“They are also known as autumn crocus, or saffron crocus. Do you know where these flowers grow?”

Remus raised his eyebrows, tapping his fingers to one another— thumb to index, thumb to middle, thumb to ring, thumb to pinkie.

“Lemme think… I have a spice garden in my side, but I didn’t know that saffron came from a fucking flower! But I do have a bit of land I could… flowers. Goddamn! Saffron from flowers! That’s pretty cool! I have to ask— how did people think of putting it on shit?”

Logan suppressed a smile as Remus flapped one of his hands a little. It felt nice, being asked harmless questions, not being interrupted. Even then, he couldn’t help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for Remus to tell him to shut up. He took a deep breath.

“It is commonly believed that saffron originated in Greece, however most of it is grown in Iran, I believe.” He paused, giving Remus ample time to say something. Instead, Remus waved his hand at him.

“Well? Go on.”

Logan shifted from foot to foot.

“Saffron is incredibly expensive due to the fact that one flower only produces three strands when it blooms, and the flowers only bloom for one week each year. Saffron has been used and cultivated by humans for more than three thousand and five hundred years, and has been used not only as a seasoning, but also as a dye, fragrance, and medicine.”

Remus grinned, eyebrows raised.

“Cocaine used to be used as a medicine! Freud diagnosed it to some of his patients for depression, I think! Did you know that cocaine, like meth, can cause people to hallucinate vermin crawling under their skin? And they’ll scratch at their skins to get them out!”

“Ah, yes, delusional parasitosis, also called formication.”

“Fornication?”

Logan shook his head.

“I doubt formication and fornication could be mistaken for one another, unless ones idea of fornication is subdermal penetration.”

“Oh, talk dirty to me!” Remus cried, rolling his shoulders. Logan couldn’t stop his lips from twitching up into a small smile, but turned his expression back to a straight face as quickly as he could.

“So what are you looking to retrieve?” Logan asked. Remus reached into one of the many pockets of his cargo shorts, and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He dramatically unfolded it.

“Apples, honey, saffron, I guess, and mussels and clams and whatever else we may find. So is that a yes?”

Logan paused for a moment. He’d been to Roman’s side of the imagination, and the land was bright and beautiful, filled with fantastical creatures and lush landscapes. However, Remus was the opposite of Roman, or at least the bits of creativity that Thomas considered unpleasant enough to purge from his consciousness. So what did that include? The horrifying, the macabre, and the explicit. Dicks, drugs, and the disturbing. None of it could hurt him. And judging by the fact Remus sought him out to come with him, he wouldn’t even be threatened. As long as he was cautious, he would remain unharmed during their journey. That was reasonable enough to assume.

But what about the others? He would be expected back at dinner, which was at five pm. That would only give him two and a half hours with Remus, and time seemed to go much faster while around him, probably something to do with how Remus’ nature distorted reality around him, that reality including the way one would perceive time passing. Logan looked into his room. If he left the door closed, the others wouldn’t bother him. Patton would leave dinner outside of his door, he’d done it before, many times, but he wouldn’t come in. So he could miss dinner. If they asked questions, he could say he was busy. And they’d believe him.

Logan stared at the yellow bucket hat, garish and blinding on top of his sheets. He swallowed.

“Yes, I will accompany you.”

Remus flapped his hands expressively, smiling like a million and a half suns. He hopped from foot to foot, then did a little spin.

“Fuck yeah! I’ll let you get changed, meet me in the kitchen as soon as possible! It’ll be so much fun!”

Just as Logan opened his mouth to tell Remus he would be wearing his usual clothing, Remus sprinted away. He let out a deep sigh. He wore his usual outfit— black dress pants, a black polo, indigo tie, dress shoes. Comfortable and professional. If he were to open his closet, there would be exact clones of the exact same outfit. Of course there was always the clothing he wore on Halloween, but a bulky, velveteen coat would be even less practical. The Sherlock costume would be out of the question, and he’d long since gotten rid of his onesie.

So that left him in his typical outfit. However, the tie around his throat could possibly get caught and damaged. Logan touched his striped indigo tie, and slowly loosened it. Halfway through doing so, he realized he would look like an absolute fool without his tie. Even to Remus. Logan pulled the tie tight, so tight it almost choked him, and walked out of his room, slowly shutting the door behind him.

Logan silently crept through the hallway then down the stairs, making sure to skip the one squeaky step. If Virgil caught him with Remus, willingly spending time with him… well, he didn’t know how he would react. Virgil hated him, saw him as a nuisance, and there certainly was some history between the two of them. He had no clue what, despite the fact Virgil had once been a ‘dark’ side.

He stepped into the kitchen. Remus sat on the table, kicking his legs back and forth. Somehow, even wearing those ridiculous clothes, he looked like he belonged in the kitchen. Logan pushed his glasses up. Remus smiled at him, hopping off of the table and grabbing his arm in a tight grip. His hands felt burning hot.

“Are you ready to go?”

Was he? If the others—

“—Yes, I am.”

Remus tugged on his arm, and they both sunk down into the white tile of the kitchen floor.

A gust of warm, sweet air hit him in the face. Logan gasped at the sensation, staggering backwards. He tripped on a stone, and landed on his ass in tall grass. All around them grew wildflowers and grass, and the clouds gently danced in the sky. The flowers swayed in the wind, blossoms of all hues growing around them. Truly, a beautiful landscape. Strange.

“Is this your side of the imagination?” Logan asked, ignoring Remus’ offered hand in favor of standing up by himself.

“Yup! Wild and uncivilized. I had an idea for a monster— it’s an intelligent being that’s made of fungi that connects to the roots of plants, like how a brain makes neuron paths! Earth brain! We’re currently standing upon the brain of the smartest being in the imagination! Well, except for you, now that you’re here.”

Logan nervously looked down at his feet, face flushed. He really didn’t want to ask what the thing looked like, but his curiosity begged him to. His ego, meanwhile, preened at the small praise.

“Does it have a body?” Logan asked, “does it need to feed?”

“Yes to both questions!” Remus proclaimed, “The body is like. Laying down sort of? It’s like a big, smart pancake! And it eats! Don’t worry, it won’t eat us. Or any other side. Or cows since it’s lactose intolerant. But it won’t eat any sentient beings, like us sides! Except for Roman and his creations of course.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why only him?”

Remus twirled around, then pointed off into the distance. Logan looked to where he was pointing, and there in the horizon he spotted a massive palace, one he immediately recognized as belonging to Roman..

Remus opened his mouth, then suddenly shut it, a manic smile splitting his face.

“Look, here comes a unicorn! Oh, you’ll love this.”

And just as Remus had said, a white stallion with a gleaming horn pranced into the field of flowers. It wandered forward, then bent down and started to graze. As it opened its mouth to take a bite, the plants suddenly burst to life, wrapping around the unicorn. It fought and kicked as the thick grass dragged it to the ground— no, into the ground, as if the prairie earth had turned into quicksand. The unicorn whinnied and thrashed, until it was pulled fully under the ground, horn disappearing in the thick foliage.

“It absorbs its prey, like a protist.” Logan said breathlessly. If he could feel, he wouldn’t know if he felt shocked or impressed.

“Yeah! This land, in like a mile wide stripe, is the border between my land and Roman’s. And I don’t want anything to do with his shit. So anything that comes over here gets chomped up by Bartholomew!”

“Bartholomew?” Logan asked.

Remus crouched, patting the ground. He flopped onto his front, pressing a little kiss to the earth.

“It goes by Bart for short. And don’t worry, we had a conversation and it’s fine with it/its pronouns. Anyways what should we get first?”

Logan stared at the earth, shifting from foot to foot. Thousands of questions were bubbling in his head, but Remus had brought him to gather ingredients, not to ask questions.

“Apples,” he croaked out. Remus leapt to his feet, looking him in the eye.

“I said it won’t absorb you. It only eats Roman and Roman’s shit. And even if you did get eaten, you’d be able to sink out. You’re safe.”

Logan inhaled slowly, then let out a deep breath. He didn’t care if he was safe. He wanted to ask how Bartholomew dissolved its prey, what acid it used to break down prey, he wanted to ask about the ph of the soil—

“Let’s go get the apples,” Logan insisted.

Remus nodded.

“The orchard is like, ten miles away? I don’t know but I can teleport us. Will it make you puke? Since Jannie told me that when he and Patton were in the imagination they saw Roman and Roman teleported them away from him and then Patton puked his guts up!”

“I don’t puke,” Logan explained, “I’m not human, and I can’t pretend to be.”

“You are a part of a human. Anyways, let’s go!”

Remus grabbed his arm, and the world shifted around them, the ground fell out from under his feet— for an instant, he felt like he was flying and falling all at the same time.

Then the ground appeared again. Logan stumbled. The sun was filtered through the branches of tall trees, taller than any apple tree he’d seen. The ground felt hard, and thorny bushes grew between each massive tree. Strangely enough, even though the air felt warm, the branches had no leaves, as if winter was coming. Logan looked down at his feet. The earth was covered in a layer of frost. He crouched down and touched it, and his fingers brushed coarse weeds and warm frost.

“This is fascinating,” Logan said. He scooped a little bit of frost into his hand. It didn’t melt.

“How so?”

“Where do I start? The trees— they’re far too tall to be apple trees, yet they still bear fruit. And they have no leaves, which raises the question of how they perform photosynthesis. Not only that but the ground is covered in frost, and the frost is warm. The frost is warm, but it also doesn’t melt in my touch. Truly fascinating.”

Remus flicked his wrist, and a red apple the size of a fist fell into his palm.

“I like the way that frost looks, but I fucking hate the cold! So I made this place! And the branches are high so I can climb them and see out above the entirety of the land! But if you take issue with the height of the trees…”

Remus took a bite of the apple. He stomped his foot. Suddenly, one of the trees shrank, smaller and smaller, until it was the size of an actual apple tree. Ripe, beautiful apples hung off the branches.

“There,” Remus said, “that should be low enough for you to reach.”

“I’m not that much shorter than you,” Logan said, “do you have something to keep the apples in?”

Remus reached into the bag, and pulled out a wicker basket. Logan almost asked how he managed to do that, but realized it would be pointless. This was Remus’ land, it ran by his rules.

“I have a question!” Remus proclaimed.

“Go ahead,” Logan said, silently glad Remus had gone back to asking questions.

“Why are you so touchy about shapeshifting? Like. You never do it. I mean when the cameras aren’t rolling. You look exactly like Thomas and you never change it up!”

Logan froze. He pulled an apple from one of the branches and set it carefully in the basket.

“Patton is emotionally unstable. Virgil is a ticking time bomb. Roman tends to prioritize fantastical ideals over reality. Janus is level headed, but Thomas only just accepted him. And I’m unsure if he’ll ever accept you.”

Remus took another big bite of the apple.

“And what does this have to do with you not shapeshifting?”

Logan sighed.

“Thomas needs someone to be steady. Someone for him to rely on and trust no matter what the situation is. I don’t want to lose his trust.”

Remus giggled. Logan picked another apple.

“He trusts Patton even when he’s a fucking puppet. It’s not about trust, is it?”

Logan set the apple down in his basket.

“How many of these do we need?”

“Fuck if I know, fill the basket. But if it’s not about trust, then what is it about?”

Logan picked an apple, staring at the deep red color. He rubbed it against his polo, and he could see his reflection.

“Thomas hasn’t been listening to me as much as he should. I’m hoping that if I maintain the same appearance as him, he’ll be more inclined to listen to what I have to say.”

Logan stared at the apple. He shouldn’t be here. If the others found out he’d spent so much time with Remus, then what would they think of him? Would they consider him a friend anymore? That plus the fact he was picking apples, something they didn’t even need to do because they could be summoned with the snap of a finger. He didn’t need to eat. Logan set the apple in his basket.

Remus hummed. He flicked his wrist again, and apples began to rain from the sky. They struck the ground hard enough to bruise, and the noise they made was thunderous.

“Do you think the apple rain helps or diminishes the experience of apple picking?”

Logan stared up at the sky— cloudy, with a chance of apples.

“I don’t think catching apples in a basket counts as picking.”

“But it does count as fun!” Remus insisted.

“It’s not very effective.”

“Really now? Watch this!”

Remus pulled another wicker basket from the bag, and held it above his head. One, two, three apples hit the basket hard. The fourth made a sickening crunch as it hit the basket, and Logan flinched.

“What was that?”

“Some of the apples have bones!”

Logan furrowed his brows, looking at Remus. Another apple fell into his basket, thankfully lacking the crunching.

“An odd feature for an apple to have. What are the purpose of the bones? Structural stability? Do the bones assist in reproduction?”

“None of that!” Remus responded, “I just like the crunch! And Jannie likes the extra calcium!”

Logan nodded. Somehow, the fact that nothing made sense was logical. This was Remus’ land, it obeyed him. He plucked another apple from the tree.

“You know, Logan,” Remus said after a moment, basket held over his head, “I think you’re Eve.”

Logan raised his eyebrow.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Remus shrugged. Another apple landed in the basket with a crunch.

“Well, you see, Eve ate the apple from the forbidden tree, because she wanted to know the difference between good and evil, she wanted to see like god. In all honesty, I don’t think she was tricked. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she was getting into. She was just scared to be held liable. She was scared of the judgement.”

Logan plucked another apple from the tree. He had to stand on his toes to reach it. What Remus was saying made no sense. If God had dropped him in the garden and told him to not eat the apple, he would’ve followed the rules. And he certainly feared no judgement. Certainly.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t? So you would have rather stayed ignorant? Unharmed by what you don’t know?”

Logan froze. Remus continued talking.

“I remember Janus told me you really went off at him when he suggested that ignorance is bliss. So, I think you’re just like Eve. I mean, would you give up peace for knowledge?”

Logan plucked another apple. Of course he would. What he wanted more than anything was a life full of books and reading, knowing everything there was to know. Being an academic.

“That isn’t my choice to make. Thomas has chosen his path in life.”

“But what if it was your choice? Then what would you do?”

Logan picked another apple. The basket was close to full.

“I would choose knowledge. I have told you what I would do as a human, I would pursue knowledge above all. I wouldn’t be able to stop my pursuit. I would never be satisfied.”

Remus snapped his fingers, and the apple rain stopped as suddenly as it started.

“Wisdom cries out in the street; in the squares she raises her voice. Proverbs 1, verse 20. You’d never be able to stop learning once you started. Which I think is pretty cool!” Remus looked him dead in the eye, lowering his basket from his head. “You’re a passionate guy, Lo. Show it. I liked hearing you talk about saffron. And if they won’t listen? Then—“

“Then make them listen. Yes. You said it before.” Logan sighed. “I must admit, I don’t think I would be able to. Once they see me as a joke, it’s over. I’m only listened to when I’m being used to counter something that inhibits Virgil and Patton. For example, when you and Janus first appeared. I… I think we have enough apples.”

Remus took his basket, full of apples, and shoved it into the bag. Logan gave him his basket, and watched Remus make it disappear.

“If they won’t listen to you just because they see you act improperly, because they see you smile and feel happy, then they’re a bunch of hypocrites that I want to punt into the fucking sun.”

Logan took a deep breath in. A tiny little voice inside of him screamed to lash out, punch a tree in anger and frustration and pain, but that would be illogical. The apples had been picked. That was all. Now saffron, or honey, or whatever Remus would drag him to next. Then he’d be back in his room, asleep in his chair, then in the morning—

“I honestly don’t know why you care so much,” Remus said.

Logan exhaled.

“They’re all I have.”

Remus set a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re have me now, too. Let’s go get the saffron!”

The earth suddenly fell out from under his feet. Logan couldn’t help the surprised yelp that escaped his mouth, hand flying out to grab Remus’ arm. Then as quickly as it disappeared, the earth came back, and his feet hit the ground. He yanked his hand away from Remus, brushing invisible dust off of the front of his shirt.

They had appeared in a desert. The sun beat down bright and strong, no clouds in the sky to inhibit it. His feet sank into the sand. A harsh wind kicked up the sand, and it flew around in a flurry like a blizzard. Logan gazed at the horizon. Nothing for miles and miles, just sand, low and level.

“Is this where you find saffron?” Logan asked. Remus crossed his arms.

“You should know better than anyone that flowers can’t grow in a desert! And besides, I just found out saffron came from flowers. So I have to grow them!”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Why bring us to a desert then?”

Remus smiled.

“Oh, you’ll see.”

Remus turned away from him. He raised his hands out, like he was conducting a band. He slowly breathed in. Logan felt the sand under his feet shift, pull together, and shake. Logan’s eyes went wide.

“What’re you—“

Remus turned back to Logan, eyes filled with fire.

“What is the best condition for crocuses, Logan?”

Logan swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“Saffron crocuses bloom in early to mid fall, and prefer sandy loam and lots of sunshine. They prefer soil with good drainage, as well as a pH range of 6.0 to 7.0. Crocus grow best in hardiness zones 5 through 8, not too hot, but not too cold either.”

A cool, fall breeze ruffled Remus’ hair and the fishnet shirt he wore. Logan raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t tell the temperature, but it certainly had gotten cooler.

“What is sandy loam?” Remus asked, knocking Logan’s train of thought off the tracks.

Logan paused for a moment. Remus really wanted to know. But why? The imagination didn’t follow the laws of physics or nature, why would he want to know? He said he liked hearing him talk. But did he?

“Sandy loam is soil that, while containing silt and clay, has primarily sand in it. It is a good soil for gardening because of its draining abilities… Does it matter?”

Remus tilted his head.

“Well, if you were to be making a big ol’ crocus field, you’d care about the soil! Everything about it! So since it matters to you…”

Remus smiled brightly, and grabbed Logan’s arm, tugging him. Logan let himself be pulled, finding himself right in front of Remus, stumbling as the ground shifted under his feet. Bright sand melded together and changed, turning into dark, rich earth. Logan knelt, scooping a little bit into his hand. Sandy loam.

The soil in his hand moved, like a miniature earthquake. A small, green sprout rose from the dirt, reaching towards the sun. Delicate green leaves grew, and so did a small, purple bud. It opened. Vibrant amethyst petals showed themselves to him, but so did three red stigma. Saffron.

“My god,” Logan said, “that was amazing!”

Remus snorted out a laugh.

“What, you've never seen Roman do something like that?”

Logan shook his head. Roman preferred to run his side of the imagination like an actual human kingdom, planting saplings and waiting patiently for them to grow. Sometimes, he’d see Roman in the wheat fields, harvesting wheat with a large iron scythe, just how a human would do. He let everything take its time, and grow at its own pace.

“Really?” Remus crowed. “Well then— watch this!”

Remus cackled, and snapped his fingers.

The ground shifted under Logan’s knees, and hundreds of little green sprouts poked out from the dark earth, basking in the gentle sunlight. Glorious purple buds opened to reveal perfect crocuses, each with three sprigs of saffron inside. Logan gazed out to the horizon. The desert had turned to a field of purple, as grand and never ending as a sunset.

Logan’s jaw dropped open in shock. For miles and miles, nothing but crocus…

“Amazing,” Logan whispered, “absolutely amazing.”

With a thud, Remus sat down next to him. He leaned forward, and tore one of the crocuses from the ground, holding it up to Logan. Then, the petals shuddered, as if blown by an invisible wind, merging and shifting until they had formed a purple frog.

“Look,” Remus exclaimed, “it’s a croak-us!”

Logan couldn’t help but snort with laughter, covering his mouth quickly. His eyes went wide. Remus didn’t seem to have any intention of poking fun at him for laughing, but it was better safe than sorry. Though he couldn’t help but think of Remus, sat at the kitchen table in nothing but an apron, saying that he’d beaten him fair and square, and could do so again. Logan lowered his hand from his mouth, chuckling quietly. It was a pretty funny pun.

"Yes," Logan opened his mouth, closed it, then exhaled. "'It's quite ribbit-ing."

Logan looked up, meeting Remus’ eyes. There was no judgement, no smugness. Remus looked absolutely fucking delighted, a manic glint in his eyes.

"You've toad the line!” Remus cackled. Logan laughed quietly, staring right at the little frog in the flower, trying to think of another frog pun. His brows furrowed in thought.

"Did you know that in South America, there's a species of big frog with enough poison to kill two thousand men?” Remus said, interrupting Logan’s train of a thought.

"I don't believe that's true. The golden dart frog grows only up to five millimeters, as opposed to the goliath frog, which can grow up to three-hundred and twenty, and weigh just over four pounds."

“Damn, you know a lot about frogs,” Remus said, “it’s pretty cool!”

“I researched them extensively after Patton turned into one, just in case another problem arose.”

They stared at each other, much too long to be considered normal. Remus's lips twitched. The silence grated on Logan’s nerves. Had he said something wrong?

“Would you like to play a word association game?” Logan nervously asked.

"Part two: Electric Boogaloo!" Remus exclaimed, startling the croak-us enough to hop into the fields of its former kin.

He brought his hand down onto Logan's in a low five, purple petals smeared onto his palm. Remus was still grinning, parts of his moustache standing on end, like he'd been shocked. Electric Boogaloo. Remus sat, cross-legged in the new soil so they were face to face. Logan brushed against him, and felt the burn of a spark go out on his leg. Electric Boogaloo, again.

"Vampire,” Remus said.

Logan’s mind jumped to when Virgil had dressed as a vampire for halloween.

"Halloween."

“Black?”

"Orange."

"Bok choy!” Remus chirped.

Logan paused. What led to that connection? Remus shrugged.

"Plant,” Logan said, brushing off his previous confusion.

"Maple.”

"Canada.”

"Pancakes."

"Syrup."

"HONEY!"

Remus snapped, loud as a cracking whip. Logan watched him shake a freshly printed page he clutched in his hand, peering at it intensely.

“It says on our list that we need honey!”

Logan looked back out at the field of crocuses. Every single one of them had three sprigs of saffron inside, red and beautiful. He could smell it, the aroma beautiful and heavy.

“We have to harvest the saffron first, for the paella. How much will we need for the recipe, Remus?”

Remus sighed.

“Harvesting saffron ourselves sounds like a big waste of time. Don’t you think?”

Logan brushed his fingers on the warm, rich soil. He imagined Remus and him in the field of saffron, carefully plucking saffron from the flowers, putting the delicate threads in jars to be dried later. Then he could ask all the questions in the world about the soil, the saffron. He could spend hours talking to Remus about everything he wanted to. He wanted to say so much. And yet his mouth wouldn’t obey him. Remus wouldn’t tell him to shut up, so what was stopping him? Nothing was stopping him.

“Yes,” Logan said, “it would take up a good deal of time. But honey won’t take that long, will it?”

“I don’t even need honey,” Remus admitted, “I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you without any of the others popping in or having to wait until like five am. You’re the functional one, you gotta get some sleep.”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. Oh. Remus’ words slowly went through his head. His heart did a backflip— even though that certainly was anatomically impossible— and his lungs stopped taking in air.

“Yeah,” Logan said, voice quiet, “I do. I mean— uh. Spending time with you is much better than laying unconscious for eight hours.”

“As if you get eight hours of sleep,” Remus said, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“So. We don’t need honey?”

“We still need mussels.”

“Mussels, yeah,” Logan said, breathless, standing up, “lead the way.”

“What about the saffron?” Remus said, raising an eyebrow. He stood.

“...Well. We can always come back for that some other time.”

Remus nodded, a bright smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, some other time. Well then. Off we go!”

Remus grabbed Logan’s arm, and the world fell away from them. Logan closed his eyes.

Waves crashed gently. He could hear them, and feel a cold sea breeze blow on his skin, ruffling his hair. He slowly opened his eyes. Apparently, night had fallen while his eyes were shut, and moonlight bathed everything in a pearly pale light. The air smelled like salt. Both of his feet were solidly on a wooden dock. Remus’ hand still felt warm on his arm.

“How long did that take?” Logan asked. The sun had still been up when they left.

“It’s always night here,” Remus explained, shifting his weight from foot to foot, “I like it better that way. Look at the beach and you’ll see why.”

Logan turned his head. The moon shone gently on the black sand beach, but more impressive were the waves— each foaming, rushing wave carried with it an ethereal teal glow, like all the stars in the sky were gently ebbing with every wave. Logan stared at the water, eyes wide.

“The waves glow like that because of an algal bloom, right? And when the water moves it causes the algae to glow. It is absolutely wonderful, Remus.”

Remus smiled, running his hand through his hair, almost as if he was shy.

“Thanks, this place is one of the first places I’ve ever made, and the first one I felt satisfied with. The rest of this place I like to keep constantly changing, but not here.”

Remus walked to the end of the dock. He calmly set his bag down, then yanked off his fishnet top, holding it in his hand. Logan watched his hands undo the button of his shorts, then watched Remus toss his shorts onto the dock, revealing the bright green speedo he wore, leaving nothing up to the imagination. Remus raised his arms out like Christ on the cross, looking up at the full moon. Then he tilted backwards, gracefully falling off the dock, and landing in the water with a loud splash.

Logan slowly walked to the end of the dock. He knelt, knees pressed against wet wood. Even through the glowing waves and the dark water he could see Remus’ back, his legs, pale skin disappearing quickly underwater.

Logan’s hands clasped the indigo fabric of his tie. Then they drifted down. He sat down, cross legged, staring down at the water. Slowly, he took one shoe off, setting it carefully behind him. Then the other. He pulled off his socks and placed them in his shoes. Then his pants, leaving him in boxers, his shirt, and his tie. He took off his glasses.

His hands clasped his tie again. He gazed at the water, dark as the night around him except for the beautiful waves and the occasional glimpse of Remus’ skin. Then he raised his head, staring out into the distance. He could see for miles. Empty, dark ocean, with no land in sight. Slowly, he loosened the knot. His hands shook.

Remus wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care if he took off his tie. He wouldn’t see him as less. He would see him as Logic, as Logan. Nothing less.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of cold, salty air. pulled off his tie, setting it with the rest of his clothing. Before he could lose his nerve he yanked his shirt off, threw it haphazardly in the pile of clothing, and ran to the end of the dock. He jumped. Time seemed to slow as he rushed through the air, flying to the water—

He landed with a loud, graceless splash. The water around him lit up like fireworks. Surprisingly, the water felt warm compared to the bite of the wind. Logan couldn’t tell where Remus was, he just knew he was underwater with him now. Logan kicked and paddled until he reached the surface, gasping for breath. A sharp laugh escaped him. His heart pounded in his chest— he could feel it beating, even though he knew he didn’t need one to function. The waves rushed over him, bright as all the stars.

Logan treaded water in place, then let himself tilt back, until he floated on his back. Waves gently rocked him, and he let them. What had he been so scared of? He laughed again, much quieter, listening to the waves rush to shore.

Next to him, he heard Remus surface, taking a deep breath.

“You good?” Remus asked. Logan turned his head a little, looking at Remus. His hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead.

“Perfectly fine,” Logan responded, “and you?”

Remus didn’t answer, just smiled and sunk into the water. The wind blew cold over his skin, sending a shudder up his spine. Remus had to be swimming under him, collecting the mussels he’d use for the paella. Logan couldn’t help but wait for the time they’d be able to spend in the kitchen, knees bumping, or the time they’d spend collecting saffron, the sun shining on violet flowers in a golden gleam.

Logan breathed out slowly. There was something with Remus that made all his thoughts become portraits. Cohesive, yes, but coated in a loveliness that never used to be there. It might have to do with the imagination. It might not.

The waves beneath him swelled, then gently ebbed out. Remus surfaced again, treading water as easily as breathing. He’d changed his fishnet top into a net, which was full of mussels and what looked like clams, maybe? Logan couldn’t tell.

Remus gingerly grabbed Logan’s arm. The waves under them swelled.

“Let’s go back up onto the dock,” Remus whispered.

Logan nodded. Within the blink of the eye, they both appeared on the dock, both of them soaking wet. Remus shook his head like a dog, water flying everywhere. Logan raised his hand to keep the water from hitting him, even though he was already absolutely soaked. Remus set the bag of shellfish on the dock with a clatter.

He calmly took one out of the net, and Logan realized they were oysters, not clams. Remus grabbed his bag, unzipping one of the pockets and pulling out a knife. He held the oyster carefully, curved side flat against his palm, and wiggled his knife into the hinge between the shells. Remus’ hands were surprisingly steady, even as the knife slipped between the shells and the oyster popped open. He scraped the knife against the inside of the shell, freeing up the meat, then knocked the oyster back like a shot.

Silently, he offered Logan the knife. Their fingers brushed as Logan took the hilt of the knife, grabbing an oyster from the net. He mimicked Remus’ movements, trying to slip the knife between the two shells. Remus chuckled, and grabbed the hand that held the knife.

“You have to press harder,” he said, “you can’t finesse your way into the shell, you have to put some oomf behind it. If you don’t, it’ll never ever open up.”

Logan swallowed. He felt oddly lightheaded as Remus guided the knife between the shells of the oyster, helping him push the knife into the space between the shell, easing the hinges apart with the flat of the blade. The shell slipped into the cup of his fingers, just so, supported by the weight of Remus's hands over his, thumb pushing against his, twisting the hinge open with a pop.

"See?" Remus was grinning, that ever-present expression of glee, and Logan tore his eyes from it to the movement of hands again, guiding the knife under the oyster to lift the flat shell off.

"These would be good for the garden," Logan blurted out. Remus looked up, just as attentive as he'd always been, and the words caught in his throat for a second. "For- for the soil, oyster shells, when ground into powder, have been shown to improve soil pH and nutrient status, strengthening cell walls due to an increase in calcium, overall resulting in healthier produce.”

Remus tilted his head. Logan’s face flushed.

“...I know you employ an extraordinary method of growing and cultivating, and therefore have no need for this knowledge, but tossing them aside or simply letting them disappear seemed.. unnecessary."

"I think you need to stop worrying about what I need to know, and start asking what else I'd want to hear,” Remus said with a grin, “But it is flattering that you think it's extraordinary. Now why don’t you try the oyster?”

Logan stared at the meat of the oyster.

“I just… drink it?”

“Like a shot, yeah.”

Logan slowly brought the oyster to his mouth. Slowly, he tilted his head back, opening his mouth.

The taste made his eyes go wide. The meat of the oyster was plump against his tongue, but it tasted like coppery brine. He swallowed it without chewing, since he hadn’t noticed Remus’ jaw moving. The coppery taste lingered on his tongue. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of fresh, ocean air.

“Why don’t you stay here?” Remus suddenly asked. Logan’s eyes shot wide open. He had another oyster in his hands, wriggling his knife between the shells.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Remus looked down at the oyster, face surprisingly blank and unreadable.

“You spend all day in your room except for when you come out and cook with me. I have a feeling that I almost wasn’t able to get you out of your room today. So why don’t you just stay here? I can make you a castle or a cottage for you to study in, and you won’t have to worry about the others bothering you. And you’ll be able to come here whenever you want. So what do you say. Will you stay?”

Logan stared down at his hands. He could. He could say yes, and watch Remus make him a place to stay, a place that was truly his. No worries of anyone walking in and seeing him disheveled, just himself and Remus.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say yes. I’m needed with the rest of the sides, and Virgil may see my leaving as betrayal, or a sign of untrustworthiness. I need to keep them on my side. I need them to trust me, to listen to me.”

Remus still was fixated on the oyster. The knife slipped between the two shells, and it popped open. Remus’ brows rose.

“I still think you’d enjoy it here more than you would crammed in your little room all the time. And I don’t know how to tell you in a way that’ll make you listen, but they need you more than you think they do. You are all of Thomas’ cleverness and wit. Where would he be without you? Creativity is nothing without knowledge— whether its working with or against knowledge.”

Logan shook his head. Remus slowly reached for Logan’s hand. Logan let him take it, pull his fingers open, and press something into his palm. It felt like a pebble. Logan felt his hands ball into fists.

“Roman seems to mostly work against me, but at least Thomas heeds his words. I really can’t stay here. I…. I should honestly go. It’s late.”

Logan awkwardly stood, fists still clenched. Remus looked up at him with wide eyes, brows furrowed.

“Are you sure?”

Logan opened his mouth, but no words came out. A part of him still wanted to stay, to sit with Remus at the dock and watch the glowing waves, to eat oysters with him. He closed his mouth and nodded. Remus sighed.

“Alright. I’ll teleport you and your clothes back to your room. Just… you’re welcome back whenever you want. Don’t be a stranger, Logan.”

Logan smiled. He wanted to say something, but the next thing he knew the world vanished around him. Then it reappeared, and he saw the door to his room. There was a bowl of spaghetti in front of it. It had long grown cold, but Logan picked it up anyways, and stepped into his room.

He set the bowl of spaghetti on his desk, and haphazardly tossed his clothes on the floor. He felt soaked to the bone, and started to shiver a little, even though he knew he couldn’t feel cold, couldn’t feel pain, couldn’t feel the cocktail of conflicting emotions inside of him. With a sigh, he sat in his office chair. His hands, still curled into fists, shook slightly. What had Remus given him? Slowly, he relaxed his fingers.

Resting in his palm was a round, black pearl.

Logan stared at the black pearl in his palm. A million different thoughts rushed through his head, most of them strange and illogical. He could go back to the pier and watch the luminescent waves, or help Remus grind the oyster shells down into fertilizer. And they would eat oysters together until they had enough pearls to make a necklace, a necklace he’d wear wherever he went.

Then what?

Then Logan would wear the necklace, and someone would ask where he got it from.

This was for the best for Thomas’ stability. It had to be.

Logan let his head flop against the headrest of his office chair, and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

He never let go of the pearl.

#Sanders sides #Logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #sanders side fic #they share a kitchen #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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