#anyways that's enough energy expended from me

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Woooo chapter 3 finally

Probably going to at least start the next chapter tonight because I’m so looking forward to writing Mihawk again. He is in this chapter as I promised, but...we do not wake him from his nap. We know better.

But Bogard and Garp have been so much fun honestly. Especially Garp giving Luffy vibes because the brainless dumbassery for sure runs in the family.

Not sure if that applies to Dragon but…look it’d be hilarious if it did—

Anyway, chapter threeeeeeeee

Flight Risk

Young!Mihawk x Marine!AFAB!Reader

Ch. 3 of like four or something maybe six at most idk, I have a clear ending in sight but I’m not sure how long it’ll take to get there

Brief summary of The Story So Far: So Garp, in his infinite wisdom, had this brilliant idea about how the Marines could use reader's devil fruit ability (zoan type, gray parrot) to spy on this particularly dangerous and elusive pirate up close, and now reader is stuck scoping out Kuraigana Island to see if there are any signs of him there. Bogard may have a coronary before this nonsense is said and done.

First Chapter link, Next Chapter link

SFW for now, but not in later chapters

Possible trigger warning for blood. Possible future trigger warnings for imprisonment, mild torture (definitely psychological, maybe physical)

Tags: Enemies to lovers, eventually NSFW, idk maybe more later

Word Count: 3,057

Haven't really proofread this much but I will in a minute I promise

No tag list yet, I do not expect one but if you're interested in seeing where this bullshit goes just lemme know

♫♬I’m Gonna Be Your Elvis — The Fratellis♬♫

I could not pretend that I was even half amused

When all they ever told me left me shaken and confused

It would have been a beautiful night for a flight, if not for the destination ahead of you.

Kuraigana Island loomed closer as your wings cut through the soft breeze in your transformed state, and catching the wind would ensure that you could simply glide most of the way there without expending too much energy. The chilly night air barely cut through your thick coat of gray feathers, and your dull coloration and the dim light of the crescent moon gave you some reassurance that you would be able to see any potential threat before it could notice you.

Something near the shore by the forest caught your eye, and you swooped in a bit closer to be positive of what you were looking at—and your stomach did a backflip as you confirmed it.

A small vessel was moored there, a boat in the shape of a coffin.

That was confirmation enough that he was here. Part of you considered circling back around the battleship cutting silently through the water a mile or so behind you and reporting this alone to Garp.

But…no. You had been told to fly over, to see what you could from a high enough elevation to avoid detection, and you intended to do just that. This was your first real chance to show your value as a Marine. You couldn’t blow it by turning tail and running the moment you felt the slightest pang of fear. Hardening your resolve, you regained your elevation with a few flaps of your wings, circling the island until you were at a height where you felt safe.

As safe as you could, at least.

The forest was quiet enough—there were no signs of the population of primates Garp had mentioned to you, perhaps all asleep for the evening. Save for the sound of nocturnal birds and insects cutting through the night air, nothing seemed out of the ordinary in the dense forest, or the narrow path that cut through it from the shore. You flew a bit lower, squinting down across the path.

His boat was there. You knew he had to be there somewhere. He never worked with anyone else, so chances were slim to none that he could possibly be anywhere else.

The clearing around the castle was half overgrown itself, littered with ruins and evidence of battles long since ended beneath a thin veil of fog, but the castle itself seemed mostly intact from your vantage point.

Intact, with a dim orange glow glimmering from one of the windows that made you briefly halt in midair, flapping your wings lightly to keep yourself aloft. Fire light. It had to be, there was no other explanation, perhaps the dim glow of a candle or a lantern. There was someone there, someone in a high room of the tower straight ahead of you. That would be enough for you to go back with, more than enough information to all but confirm the reports.

But…if you could get just a little closer, if you could confirm it with your own eyes…

This was a bad idea. It had to be a bad idea. Garp had told you to keep your distance, but you were already swooping down, stopping just beside the window and gripping your talons against the grooves between the stones that comprised the solid wall.

Folding your wings back behind you, slowly and quietly creeping closer to the window.

Closer, just a bit closer, craning your neck the slightest bit to the side to glimpse inside…

The light, as you had thought, came from an oil lantern situated on a small end table, illuminating what appeared to be a sizable den. Most of the visible surfaces in the room were covered with a fine coating of dust that glinted eerily in the flickering glow, from the bookshelves lining one wall to the adjacent hearth. It was quiet at the moment, still, but there was one sign of life that made your heart skip a beat and your breath catch.

Leaning alongside the hearth, unmarred by a single speck of dust, stood a massive sword with a jet-black blade and hilt in the shape of a cross, a glimmering blue gem set into the base of the hilt that seemed to glow in the firelight. Holding your breath as you stared at the weapon, unable to take your eyes off of it, you realized that the room wasn’t quite as silent as you had thought.

The faint whisper of slow, even breathing met your ears.

He was there. He was really there. You considered the likelihood that you were the first Marine to ever get this close without being killed within seconds, considered the idea of taking off back for your ship right that instant.

And then you slowly shifted a little closer to the window, looking around the edge of the windowsill to the other side of the room.

You barely stopped yourself from letting out a gasp.

Reclined back in an old armchair, a book open across his lap, his boots propped up on the table in front of him, arms crossed over his chest and head tilted down slightly—it was him. There was no question about it. Even with the small difference from his most recent bounty poster of the angular moustache and goatee, there was no question. You were barely ten feet away from the Marine Killer himself, Dracule Mihawk.

And he was fast asleep.

His chest rose and fell slowly with his deep, even breaths, his eyes closed. His plumed hat sat to the side on an end table, his signature trench coat draped across the back of his chair. You had done it—more than simply scouting for activity, more getting the lay of the land, you had found the man himself.

You jolted in alarm when he shifted in his sleep, quickly pulling your head out of the window, your heart racing.

That, you decided, was more than enough for you to report back. You shifted a careful distance across the wall of the tower, taking care to ensure that your talons didn’t so much as scratch against the stone surface, and took flight back toward the shore, toward the battleship barely visible against the dark water and midnight sky. Gliding just above the treetops, buzzing with adrenaline, you were already swelling with pride. You, a cadet that had spent weeks being taunted and treated like a joke, had managed to use the very ability that had made you a laughingstock to do what no other Marine had yet managed.

For the first time, you had more than just a glimmer of hope that this plan, however ridiculous it sounded on the surface, could actually work.

And then something whizzed past your left wing.

You faltered in your flight, looking around as you flapped your wings a few times to regain your equilibrium. Whatever it was had passed by so fast that you had registered no more than the whistle of wind around it. Maybe a smaller bird or a large bug—

And then it happened again.

And again.

And, as you realized that the objects were coming from below you and looked down, you let out an audible gasp that left you like a strangled squawk.

You were too close to the trees, you realized disjointedly, as you took in the sight of several enormous, ape-like creatures below you. You were also the only bird in the air, which you guessed had a great deal to with the fact that these particular apes were wearing what appeared to be some sort of armor and wielding very human weapons. Swords, spears, axes, and—to your stunned realization—bows.

Another arrow zipped past your right wing, close enough to brush across your feathers.

What the hell what the hell what the hell—

Soaring higher into the air did you little good. The beasts had already spotted you and were following your flight path with ease, still firing arrows, throwing spears (though these, thankfully, didn’t manage to come nearly high enough to pose any threat). You were more than halfway across the expanse of the forest, you could make it, you knew you could.

Nearly to the end of it, dipping higher and lower, zig-zagging through the air to throw off the aim of the strange primates.

Right there, right at the edge of the trees, when a searing pain tore through your right wing, causing you to screech out a swear, glancing down to watch the offending arrow fall and land on the shore below you.

You didn’t even dare glance toward your wing to see how bad the injury was. As long as you didn’t look, it might have only been a scratch. It might have just been a light graze. You tried to ignore how unsteady your flying was, to ignore the fact that you were slowly losing elevation and seemed unable to regain it, that you were swerving to the left no matter how hard you tried not to.

You did focus on the fact that if you fell now, you wouldn’t ever make it back. You’d fall into the nearly black waves below you and sink down into the ocean like a sack of stones, and that would be the end.

Your ship drew closer and closer, growing larger and larger in your line of sight, and you focused on that.

Until you were close enough to glide awkwardly onto the quarterdeck, where Garp and Bogard seemed to be arguing quietly in front of the doors of the Vice Admiral’s cabin, and skid past them across the floorboards, hitting the railing on the starboard side.

Whatever argument your superior officers had been engaged in ceased the moment you transformed, pulling yourself up to sit against the railing, already half-shouting at the older man, “You could have told me they knew how to use weapons!”

You didn’t like the way they stared at you for a long moment, both of their gazes flickering to your right arm, no more than you liked how limp the appendage felt at your side as you gripped at the railing with your left hand.

Garp mumbled something to Bogard, who gave a short nod before disappearing into the cabin.

Garp tilted his head the slightest bit to the side, lifting his eyebrows as he slowly approached you. “That—exactly who knows how to use weapons?” he asked slowly.

“The goddamned apes, that’s who,” you said through your teeth, briefly forgetting every ounce of formality that your time as a Marine had instilled in you. “They had swords! And bows! And armor and spears and—”

“The ap—never mind that for now,” he said slowly, holding up a hand. “You need to calm down, cadet. And we need to get you patched up.”

“Patched up—I could have been killed!”

You still hadn’t looked at your arm. The adrenaline still coursing through your veins made the sharp, throbbing pain seem like an afterthought, like a distant reality as you pulled yourself to your feet. “By a bunch of damned monkeys that evidently—”

“Enough.” You jumped at the harsh command, straightening yourself out completely and snapping to attention in an instant. Your eyes briefly darted to the cabin doors as Bogard emerged, unwinding a belt as he strode over quickly, tossing a quick glare at Garp before lifting your arm and wrapping it around a couple inches below your shoulder. “We can discuss it in a few minutes. We need to get you down to the sick bay first.”

You still didn’t look down, shaking your head at Garp as you stared at him in alarm.

“It was just a scratch, I’m fine—ow—” you added as Bogard abruptly tightened the belt around your arm, glancing over.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the large, deep gash extending nearly from your right elbow to your shoulder.

At the blood steadily spurting out from what was no doubt a pretty important vein or artery.

“O…oh,” was all you could force out, your eyes lowering to the puddle of blood at your feet, the adrenaline rush fading in nearly an instant, leaving you more than a little light-headed. “That’s…”

The makeshift tourniquet around your arm did gradually slow the bleeding by the time you sat down at the edge of one of the cots in the infirmary, but you were still woozy from the blood loss, still lightheaded from everything you had witnessed during your flyover of Kuraigana Island, only catching the vaguest gist of Garp and Bogard’s continued bickering.

“And you didn’t think to inform me of this hare-brained mission beforehand?” Bogard was saying, and while his face was shadowed by the brim of his hat you were sure his expression matched his sour tone.

“It was just recon,” said Garp, sitting at the edge of a cot a few feet away, striking a match and holding it to the end of a cigar clamped between his teeth. “In and out, ten minutes. Didn’t seem like a big deal.”

“And yet here we are,” he said through his teeth, not bothering to glance up at your flinching as he cleaned the gash with an alcohol drenched cloth.

“How the hell was I supposed to know a bunch of goddamned apes would know how to use weapons?” he said, slouching over against the wall. “Wonder if the psychopath trained them…”

“Seeing as we know next to nothing about him aside from the fact that he seems to derive joy from committing mass murder, I don’t suppose anyone knows,” said Bogard, tossing a sidelong glare at the vice admiral, who gave a noncommittal shrug. Bogard tossed the cloth aside with an irritated growl and shoved a clean one into your hands. “Put pressure on that.”

“Yessir,” you said automatically, wincing as you pushed the rag against the wound.

“With all due respect, Garp, this entire farce was your idea,” said Borgard, straightening out from where he had been kneeling next to your cot to cross the room and begin rifling through drawers and cabinets. “I’m sure you can imagine what we’d have to deal with were we to return to headquarters and have to inform Sengoku that our operative was killed en route by a bow-wielding monkey.”

“Eh…” Garp shrugged a shoulder, his own expression souring at the thought. “But hell, at least we know why no one’s made it out of the place now. So we did get some information.”

“And suppose the target had been there?”

“He was.”

Both men froze when you spoke up—Garp halfway through pulling his cigar from his mouth to flick the ashes from the end, Bogard with a drawer halfway shut, both of them slowly turning their heads to look toward you.

“You should probably tell someone at headquarters to update his bounty poster,” you added, tapping at your chin. “He, ah, has a goatee now.”

Both men continued to regard you in stunned silence for several long, tense seconds, glancing at each other as your words slowly sunk in.

Garp’s face split into a grin, and his hearty laughter a moment later completely drowned out his partner’s weary sigh. Bogard slowly closed the drawer, turning around to lean back against the counter behind him, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Were you not instructed to keep your distance?” he said loudly, glowering over at Garp as the older man threw his head back in laughter. You sat up a bit straighter when Bogard turned his glare on you, crossing his arms, frowning at you with the same measure of exasperation. “Had you been seen—”

“I was careful,” you said quickly. “I noticed a light in one of the castle windows. Most of the place is in ruins but the castle is still standing. I only peeked through the corner of the window, he was asleep.”

You decided as his frowned deepened that it was best not to mention how long you had lingered in the windowsill.

“Sounds to me like the kid passed her test with flying colors,” said Garp, still chuckling to himself. He gave you a nod of approval, pointing toward you with the smoldering end of his cigar. “Good work, cadet.”

“It sounds,” said Bogard, pulling the drawer next to him open sharply, “as if our cadet was taking wholly unnecessary risks for the sake of an unnecessarily dangerous and unauthorized ‘test’ of her abilities.” Garp rolled his eyes at the indirect scolding, leaning against the wall of the infirmary again. “Needless to say,” he went on, fishing through the drawer and retrieving a suture kit before shoving it closed, “the next time any of your commanding officers sees fit to pose you with such a mission again…”

He grabbed a clipboard off of the counter, flipped over an empty medical report to its blank side, and tossed it onto the cot next to Garp, before heading back over to sit at the cot across from yours. You watched as he retrieved a large, curved needle and set to threading it, tossing a sharp look at you.

“…you are both advised and encouraged to run it by me first. Understood?” You nodded quickly as he pulled the cloth out of your hands and away from the expansive gash across your arm. “Good. Then you’ll relay what you witnessed during your reconnaissance, and our esteemed vice admiral will take down the report—”

“Why the hell do I have to—”

“Because you’re terrible at applying stitches,” Bogard snapped before Garp could finish his protest. The older man rolled his eyes, snatching up the clipboard and digging a pen out of his pocket. Bogard leaned over with the threaded needle in his hand and added, “This is going to hurt.”

“Probably not much more than nearly having my wing shot off,” you reasoned.

Garp snorted.

Bogard sighed, muttering something under his breath about being surrounded by idiots, before grabbing your wrist and pulling your arm straight, not bothering to give you any warning before jabbing the needle through your skin.

“Just stay still,” he said over the sharp hiss of air your drew in through your teeth at the pain, “and relay your report, cadet."

Next chapter link again, for your convenience

First Chapter Link again, for your convenience

[bigfan-fanfic]

Abjuration (Mage!Reader x Bucky Barnes)

A sorcerer!reader helps Bucky relax with their magic. NOTE: Can be read as platonic, and for gender neutral readers as well

Bucky sighs, pulling you into the safehouse, finally setting down his weapon.

You gulp, and then practically collapse on the bed.

It's basically a one-room shelter. a kitchen, a bed, and a communication center.

Bucky is on mission from the Avengers to protect you, to guide you safely back to the Avengers compound and avoid HYDRA, who would wish to use your magic powers for evil.

But HYDRA has been crafty, keeping in pursuit enough that you haven't been able to magic yourself and Bucky right to the Avengers.

And with them on the tail, Bucky knows he can't get you out to the extraction point.

Bucky quickly finishes sealing up the door and looks over at you. "Not having a great time?"

You groan a little. "It's been rough, but... at least we're safe, right?"

"As safe as I can make us." Bucky sighs. "We'll have to lie low here for a while, but we'll be trying to make it to the extraction point at our first chance, so you better get some rest."

"What about you?" you ask, slightly concerned. "I mean, you're the actual soldier, you should be well rested, right?"

He raises an eyebrow. "I don't know if you're capable of providing a reliable watch - you're wiped from casting those spells to help us get away."

You nod, acknowledging his point. "Still-"

"I don't sleep well anyway." he admits. "It's hard for me to ever really feel safe."

"I can help with that," you brighten. "I think, at least."

He frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I can perform a protection spell on our safehouse here. It may not keep everything out, but it'll provide enough of a barrier to defend against most things, and will alert us quickly if something is coming."

Without waiting for an answer, you begin moving, summoning your power from the wellspring inside you. Your magic always is improved when you're helping someone you care for, and Bucky has become a good friend these past few weeks on the run.

You haven't been anywhere secluded or long-term enough to justify expending your magic reserves on a protection spell, so this is the first Bucky's seen.

It takes a good twenty minutes to perform the ritual, gathering energy and focusing it, and Bucky arranges the gear and starts preparing some of the MREs in the kitchen stock, though he occasionally glances back over at you as you walk the perimeter of the safehouse, trying to touch every wall.

About halfway around, light blooms from your fingers, a soft amber color spreading outward, twinkling golden lights of concentrated power studding the ephemeral nebula of amber light spreading now over the ceiling.

Bucky watches in awe, field rations forgotten as you pull the rudimentary bed away from the wall and begin drawing runes in a haphazard circle, each glowing with light and floating a little off the floor around the bed.

"That'll be for when we sleep." you smile. "I'll activate it from the inside to give us some extra protection."

"Same bed?" Bucky finally manages to say, tearing his eyes away from the magic as the walls fade back to normal, the light now faint, now gone.

"If it's not a problem. That way we can both fit in the circle and you can get some sleep."

He nods, then chuckles. "You ever slept on a safehouse bed? Good luck sleeping."

You laugh and walk over to him to see about eating.

And later, Bucky hesitantly takes off his tactical gear and armor - he claims it helps him feel more relaxed, but it's not great for sleeping in.

He sits on the bed, cross-legged and alert, watching as you gently lean over the side and touch the rune circle. It blazes with power and sends light cascading upwards in diaphanous sheets in soft colors, forming a dome of protection before it coalesces into little spheres of drifting light, like night lights, like tiny stars gently watching over you both.

"I hope you feel a bit safer." you say softly.

"I do. The magic... I feel like it's strong. And... like it's on my side." Bucky says, leaning back to watch the lights drift as you tuck yourself under the blankets.

"Good night, Bucky."

"Good night, Y/N." Bucky whispers back. It's only after he hears your breathing change to that of unconsciousness that he slides his body downward, now lying down. And glancing at the lights, he truly does feel, if not safe, then protected.

He lets his eyes fall closed, and without trouble, drifts into sleep.

[st-danger]

Please please please please a single ficlet expanding on Predator Aeon and “prey” Swiss! 🙏😭🙏😭🙏😭🙏

If he listens, really listens- not just with his ears, but with little tendrils of quintessence that he plucks out of the air and extends forward- he can hear just how loud Swiss's heart is racing. The stretch of his lungs when he draws a breath.

Swiss has to pause; Aeon can feel how hard he's been working, how much energy he's expended on the chase so far, and he bends over, hands on his knees, panting. Gold eyes darting around in the darkness of the woods, trying to be alert and aware for any tip off that Aeon is close.

He is.

Less than fifteen feet away, if that. A generous estimate. Aeon leans against a tree and strokes the rough bark of it, a self-soothing little gesture. He's so keyed up now, trying his best to conceal his own laboured breaths, though they stem more from excitement and less from exhaustion. Aeon can run, and he has been, but he hasn't been running the way Swiss has, desperate to keep enough distance between them where he's just far enough out of reach where Aeon cannot spin magick around him.

Alas.

Aeon squints, focusing, and caresses the air with two thin fingers. Swiss grunts with surprise, bats at the back of his neck to shake off an imaginary touch, and ends up stumbling over his own feet, falling forward in the process. The full moon above reflects enough light down on them, and the tension it doesn't show, Aeon can feel anyway. Can smell.

"Cheap shot," Swiss calls out, to the forest around him. He can't see where Aeon is; he's put too much into melting into the shadows, and Swiss's attention darts around too quickly to see anything. If he'd been calmer, he might have caught the strange distortion by the tree, the weird, warbling ink beside it.

Alas.

Throwing the disguise off like a jumper onto the floor, Aeon pounces.

He's on him before Swiss has time to turn around, to realize where the sound of feet against leaves and twigs comes from, and Aeon has him shoved into the forest floor quickly, forcing a grunt from Swiss as the air is knocked out of him. A hand on the back of his neck, straddling, pressing- Aeon sits fat in his pants. He's been excited since this started, but now that he has Swiss's exhausted, struggling form underneath him, he's filling out in earnest with little ceremony. Grinding it into his back while he struggles to keep Swiss down.

"No, no," Aeon laughs, breathless and ecstatic, "stay down buddy." He tries his best to hold him, he really does- he had been hoping to wear him out a little more, get him tired out, get those strong legs tired so he wouldn't be able to kick the way he's doing now. He usually likes to draw it out more. Subconsciously he must really have been wanting a fight. Swiss flails, grunting, trying to reach back and swat at him, kick his legs out from under Aeon's slinky frame, but the weight of him, the quintessence licking into his brain telling him to relax, to let go, to give up gives Aeon a chance. "Got you," he tells Swiss. "I won."

"Haven't won shit yet," Swiss manages, still trying to throw him off, wiggle free, drag himself away.

Aeon adores him for so very many reasons. Getting his money's worth from these hunts is one of them.

"Gonna fuck you," Aeon groans, and presses himself flush against his back so he can grind his cock against Swiss's ass. Make him feel what this has done to him, what he's going to take. The smell of rich, damp earth gets stronger as they disturb the forest floor, kicking and smearing the dirt, and the heady combination of it combined with the desperation Swiss is throwing off makes Aeon a little woozy. "Gonna give me my prize?" Punctuates the question by reaching down and grabbing a handful of Swiss's ass, squeezing hard enough to be uncomfortable.

It's a miscalculation.

The shift in weight is enough for Swiss to shrug out from under, rearing back sharp and sudden, and Aeon is thrown on to his back, trapping his own leg beneath him. It's a solid connection against the dirt, and the sense of loss he feels when Swiss slides from his grasp is devastating. Panicky, he reaches for Swiss, swiping to grab a shoulder, a shirt, to touch him long enough to force some magick into his body to stun him long enough to get a chance to clamber on top once more.

The slap comes as a surprise, a firm crack against his cheek from a large, warm hand that makes him gasp, stunning him long enough to shift the balance. Swiss is on him in a second, a hand on his throat, choking, holding. Aeon claws at his forearm, writhing underneath the weight of the thick thighs bracketing his frame.

"What a nasty piece of work you are," Swiss huffs, while Aeon kicks and wheezes for breath he does not get.

Aeon may be fast, and he might have quintessence on his side, but Swiss is strong. Swiss has enough quintessence flowing through his mish-mash of elements to recognize it, to brush it off like crumbs on a table. Another slap to his face and Aeon whimpers with it, desperate to breathe. A more seasoned ghoul could still work magick in a situation like this, he's sure, but Aeon can't find the concentration to will anything to happen. Swiss is choking him, humping him- Aeon can feel him thick and blood hot through his thin track pants, rubbing himself against Aeon's body the way he'd been doing to Swiss moments before.

Aeon taps frantically at Swiss's forearm, and Swiss releases his throat. Aeon coughs, fiending for breath, sucking deep lungfuls until Swiss leans forward and shoves their mouths together, forcing his tongue deeper than Aeon is ready for, licking in until Aeon is grabbing at his shirt to keep him near.

"Need it bad," Swiss growls, and Aeon isn't sure if he's speaking to him, or voicing his own desire aloud. He isn't sure it matters. Not really. There's a hand in his hair, a hand gripping his face, his chin so hard it hurts. "C'mon you little cunt." Another grind of their dicks together and Aeon's brain short-circuits, heart hammering away while he goes dizzy. "C'mon and give it up, pretty boy."

"Make me," Aeon says, because he can. Because there's still some fight left in them both even if there isn't much. Swiss's tongue is back in his mouth, cutting off any further challenges. Deep, wet strokes, tasting him like he means to wholly consume, fingers digging into his jaw and dimpling the skin. Trying to wriggle simply leads Swiss to lay even more of his weight upon him until he's pressed so close Aeon is back to struggling to draw a full breath.

Swiss eases up only when Aeon's struggling gets weaker, and even then, it's only for a moment. As easy as moving a pillow on a bed, Swiss climbs off, throws him onto his stomach.

"Thought you'd try a little harder," Swiss scoffs, and Aeon flushes when Swiss settles behind him, grabs his hips, and forces his ass up, grabbing the elastic waistband and yanking them down, exposing him. His face is hot, thighs trembling while his cock bounces all on it's own in search of some friction. Swiss wolf-whistles when Aeon clenches, unable to stop himself, giving him a show. "Arch all pretty for me," he demands and Aeon does. When Swiss spreads him, leans down and spits onto his hole-

Well. Winning is fun, of course, but the fingertip prodding at him, petting a very private, sensitive spot while he leaks precum onto the ground...

Losing isn't half bad, either.

[crispycreambacon]

Ending April with a small parting gift. I’m gonna miss this.

Anyways, an announcement of my own.

The short of it

I’m leaving the Watcher fandom. Don’t worry, I won’t be unfollowing anyone, but I will be ceasing the creation of art for Watcher and interaction with the community at large. Thank you all for this short but meaningful ride. Feel free to unfollow me if you were here for Watcher art, and for those who stick around…

Thank you :]

I hope to not disappoint with this new era of mine.

The long of it

It’s been a couple of days since a certain channel dropped an announcement that imploded its fandom. It was… a mess. A lot—and I mean a lot—of us didn’t handle the news well, and we made that known to everyone. The impact was so massive that YouTubers, who are nowhere near the niche that Watcher operates under, covered the situation, and some of them explained very well why the decision went over so poorly. Meanwhile some of them made fun of the situation, and some were just there for the clicks, but that’s the cycle of YouTube drama for you.

With the amount of ears waiting for even a peep out of their mouths, Watcher couldn’t ignore the backlash any longer and released an apology video three days after the announcement. By all accounts, it was a pretty good response. The reception was mixed, but it was definitely more well-received than their first video, and they actually listened to their fans who gave them valid criticism over the sudden shift to a streaming service.

However…

For as much as I appreciate their response, I still can’t find it in myself to continue following Watcher. I really mean it when I say this disaster soured any enjoyment I had for them. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch them again for a long time without thinking about this situation or remembering the people they have hurt, even if unintentionally, through their poor execution of a business decision.

Do I believe they could’ve pulled off moving their content to a streaming service? Absolutely. However, so many factors doomed this decision and their announcement from the start from them believing that $5.99/month was “affordable to everyone” (seriously?) to them insisting that this was for the fans even though the fans have vocalized that they were never there for the high production value. They were there because the three guys who run Watcher were enjoyable!

I feel like if they had been honest about the fact that the TV quality they are aiming for was more for themselves than anyone–hell, it’s the mission statement in their About page, and, I don’t know, considered the idea that $6 is not cheap, especially for international fans, people wouldn’t have gotten so angry at them. Now, there are still numerous issues plaguing this business model, but to go through all of the arguments would require a separate post, and I’ve already expended too much energy on this situation. Needless to say, Watcher has burnt their bridges, and it will take a while before they can build them back up again, let alone get people to trust them enough to cross them.

On the other hand, I can’t blame Watcher fully for my departure. Despite my heavy disagreement with their initial decision, I understand why they thought this decision was a good idea in the first place as YouTube is a very unstable career path, and it would rather hurt its creators with its relentless demonetization, censorship and restrictive guidelines than give up just a tiny amount of its profit. Besides, they’re in control of their content, and they could do what they want with it even if their fans disagreed with them.

Speaking of the fans, my god. The situation revealed a side of the fandom that I never thought I would see, but in hindsight, I should have seen it coming. To see fans resort to anti-Asian racism and death threats so quickly was extremely heartbreaking, and as an Asian person, it made me feel very unsafe and unwelcome in the community.

Moreover, using Steven as a scapegoat to absolve Ryan and Shane of any wrongdoing was unfortunately a very common response. Yes, he is the CEO, and yes, his series being centered on traveling and eating expensive food really doesn’t paint him in a positive light, but need I remind you that RYAN AND SHANE ARE GROWN ADULTS. They’re the founders of Watcher, and they both have to agree to the initial plan for it to be implemented. You can’t assume that Steven was a boogeyman terrorizing your precious little boys just based on a 15-minute video. You don’t know what’s going on behind the scenes.

All of this to say that the initial announcement combined with how the community reacted violently to the announcement really nipped my interest in Watcher in the bud. It was a shame too because I really did love Watcher, and I still do. Had it not been for the time I invested in following them, I wouldn’t have made great friends, regained the joy in creating art–even reviving a hobby/skill that I assumed was long dead, and had a reason to be able to laugh or smile even in terrible days. I truly am grateful for Watcher, and I do not regret ever getting into them at all. However, I think it’s time for me to go.

Thank you all for this weird and wonderful ride, but at some point, you’ll have to hop off. I just didn’t expect to hop off it so soon.

[barkhoffman]

rest in peace tumblr user barkhoffman 🕊🕊

I'm gonna use this ask I got to springboard an explanation as to why I've gone silent and stopped updating, so! here it is! the Discourse no one asked for!

it was brought to my attention recently that some people on twitter (a site which I no longer use and have not used for years because it is a cesspool) have been vaguing/insulting SLAP, which! sure! fine, that's your right! not everyone has to like what I create, I don't mind that at all! that's not why I vanished, though.

my issue with these "criticisms" is that they ended up insulting who I am as a person. accusations of fatphobia, transphobia, and ableism (among other things) have been leveled at me, and that's where I personally draw the line.

you don't have to like me. you don't have to like what I write. but when you call my moral character into question, I get a little bothered.

an example: some of the accusations include calling me transphobic for using the word "vagina" to refer to a transmasc character's genitals. for those of you who don't know (not that I should have to disclose this information), I am not cis. trans people are not, in fact, a hivemind, and the idea that we should all be ashamed or uncomfortable or whatever the fuck with our anatomy unless we couch it in different terms is actually rather more transphobic than using a medically accurate term to refer to a person's genitals during a smut scene -- a scene which is written from the third-person limited perspective of a 48-year-old cis man who is unfamiliar with transgender issues, so even if it WAS universally offensive to call a vagina a vagina, it would still be in-character.

the thing is, in-character observations, speech, and thoughts are not actually a universal indicator of the author's identity or beliefs. things that you dislike or that make you feel uncomfortable are not automatically morally impure, and you don't have to reach for reasons to say the creator is a bigot because you don't agree with how they portrayed things.

(there's also something to be said about the inherent colonialist racism in the transmed viewpoints that lend to "transmascs shouldn't ever have vagina used to refer to their genitals," dismissing nonwhite cultures with a rich history of third/other genders and gender euphoria. DYSphoria is not the only trans experience. furthermore, calling the word vagina "female-gendered" is a slap in the face to all of us who are NOT female who have no problem referring to our genitals in that way. idk man, are the arguably more gendered terms "pussy" and "cunt" REALLY more appropriate here? should I have used "bonus hole" instead? not sure what the solution is supposed to be.

anyway.)

I could go on and on and get into every little accusation thrown at me and how insulting and ridiculous they are, but I don't want to invite that level of discourse. this is bad enough. it is absolutely batshit bonkers that I, as a nearly 30 year old person, am sitting here typing this right now. it is even more wild to me that at least some of the people involved in this drama are apparently in their 30s as well.

listen to me. look me in the eyes. if those of you who have a problem with my fics expended even half that energy into helping actual real life people instead of defending the nonexistent honor of fictional ones, the world might actually get better.

I know, I know. it feels good to vague on twitter and pretend you're doing activism when you're trashing a small creator's work in a way that's very likely to get back to them. it feels nice to know you've "saved the world from some evil" when you discourage people like me from continuing their projects. it feels like you're making a difference, right?

unfortunately, you are not. I would advise those of you involved in all this to get well soon and mature a little bit past wrongly deducing someone's viewpoints via the fictional works that they create. there are happier and more productive ways to spend your time, I swear.

I'm not mad, honestly. I'm just sort of tired. tired of getting messages asking where I am and what happened. tired of feeling like I have all this bottled up inside. tired of fandoms that would rather stoke fake moral outrage like Republicans than, idk, go to a protest or give a homeless person a dollar or defend POC from your racist uncle at the neighborhood barbecue.

I don't think we as an internet "society" really understand the mental toll it can take on someone to be called things like fatphobic, ableist, and transphobic -- particularly when, in my case, I am fat, disabled, and trans. of course, being a member of a group doesn't absolve you from bigotry against that group. however, when these accusations are leveled based entirely on someone's body of work and not on their actual character, it makes us far less likely to create works, what with the likelihood that they'll continue to be looked at in bad faith by those who have some sort of weird moral high ground point to prove.

I really didn't want to have to post about this and bring the people who like my work down, but I think you guys are owed an explanation rather than silence. not sure if I'll post anything after this, because I'm really too old to be engaging in internet slapfights over torture porn movie fanfics, of all things (I guess I really spoke too soon when I called this fandom nice, drama-free, and welcoming). if my ask box gets too messy, I'll turn it off. idk. just wanted you guys to know where I've gone.

now stop telling everyone I'm dead

[monster-slxt]

It's your first day working for an organisation that studies monsters. After the admin is sorted, you're given a tour of the place, with particular emphasis on the holding cells that house the actual monsters.

When you ask about your actual duties, they say something about "helping them to expend excess energies". Upon hearing the degree of confusion when you reply, they clarify.

"To put it simply, you are here to give the monsters a way to relieve their sexual needs and thus remain amenable. I.e. Fuck them so they stay calm."

I dont think I would have tries to escape anyways, but they don't give me a choice. Apparently too many applicants don't make it past this part of the process. My new boss pushes a button and suddenly I can't move at all. A magic charm to keep me from bolting.

Workers rush in and get me ready, stripped naked and collared and prepped for a tour around the facility before the charm is removed and I can move again. I'm quickly lead to the holding facilities where the tour proper begins.

First a huge hydra, each head thrashing and spewing smoke, clearly less than pleased. One leg was bigger than I was, and it wasn't hard to be intimidated by the fact that I was expected to take it. The tour goes on without any concern for my worries.

Next is a school of merfolk, housed in a special aquatic sector with a lovely little shallow meant for me I'm told. One of them swims up to the edge of the tank, clearly swollen with eggs and eager to meet their newest toy.

There's a couple minotaurs being shown their rooms by a scientist who openly gawk at my naked body, the bulges in their loinclothes more than enough to understand what they thought of me.

Just thinking about the possibilities is enough to make my arousal obvious to any onlookers. The guards walking me joke about their good fortune in finding such a slut like I'm not even there.

We pass a few more dragons, some centaurs, a room just labeled 'tentacles,' even a few giant insects and living plants before we get to what is apparently my room. It's quite nice for what amounts to a cell. One look at my disappointed face is enough to make the worker who lead me here laugh. I won't be taking any 'clients' today, I'm being left to 'get settled in' for the first night.

I get very little sleep in the end, to busy fantasizing about how lucky I was to land thus job

[the-bonfires-ember]

ok so this has a lot of facets so bear with me. standard disclaimer that this is all based on my personal experiences as a narcissistic sociopath; im not a professional and i dont speak for everyone.

anyway.

firstly, yes we do. i think prosocials/egotypicals do it too to an extent but for different reasons and in different ways.

from an aspd perspective, i get annoyed at people and it is no longer to my benefit to stick around them, ill just disappear in a classic ghosting style. frankly i never get to this point anymore because ive managed to surround myself with people i very rarely if ever find annoying. in the past, when ive befriended people and then theyve frustrated me or ive just generally found them annoying for some reason, ive either slowly extricated myself if i could keep getting stuff out of the person or just totally destroyed the relationship so that they stopped reaching out and i could stop expending energy into dodging them. in my head if someone has pissed me off, it means that its going to keep happening and theyve just finally shown me their true colours so i might as well get out now or detach myself so im not going to emotionally invested enough to get annoyed again in the future. essentially this means i stop caring about them at all. as for how fear factors in; it goes a pretty long way back into people being fundamentally untrustworthy and only beneficial in as much as i can get from them. if im putting up with more than im getting out of it, id just walk away because everyone is out for themselves and of course that applies to me too. thats the way ive been taught the world works, and if im not getting any emotional backlash for doing that, why wouldnt i? it just makes sense. im fundamentally out for myself because no one else has been there to help when i needed them in the past.

from an npd perspective, if someones annoying me its likely because i am thinking of myself as being vastly superior to them and find the annoying quirks of them to be proof of their inferiority. the fact that theyve disagreed with me or fought me on something means they dont have the degree of respect and admiration for me that they should. this usually leads to me discarding them out of frustration and ill push them away by just showing less and less interest in them, or the ways i would that i mentioned above. the fear here, as you may be able to guess, is being wrong and being weaker/worse/unworthy. for me, being right and being more esteemed than my peers was a matter of survival in my childhood, and now if someone is starting to chip into the veneer or perfection ive built and maintained they have become a threat and i have to separate before they see too much and i lose everything.

now i dont know why you - orginal messager - asked this question, or why anyone else might be looking for this informatio. i can come up with a few guesses though, so im gonna add a couple things that applies to prosocials and other things that apply to antisocials and narcissists. but ill tuck that away so you can ignore my advice if you want to and just take the analysis.

prosocials - if you have a friend with either of these personality disorders and they are beginning to withdraw theres a choice before you. firstly, you can let them. you can recognise that this person doesnt want to associate with you anymore for whatever reason and allow yourself to be at peace with that. im sure it hurts, especially after what ive said about my reasons for doing this, but if you think you are better off just letting this one go, i support that and encourage you to just slip away with a clean break.

the other option you have, if you want to try your best to keep that person with you, is to address it plain as day. its uncomfortable, yes, but try not to be confrontational. a simple 'hey, ive noticed you distancing yourself and withdrawing and i wanted to check in and find out why and whether or not we can resolve this'. perhaps its cold of me to ask this of you, im not entirely certain one way or the other. but you deserve to try and make it work if thats what you want, and the only way that happens is by addressing the problems and really, truly understanding that the behaviours we exhibit come from a place of fear and the memory of pain. they are trauma disorders. and while trauma does not excuse harmful behaviours it does no one any favours to ignore that its the root of the problem. maybe your friend will brush you off, thats true. they might not be ready to look deeper and thats their right. at which point youve done all you can and now you need to prioritise yourself. but maybe youll make your friend reevaluate, maybe they want to heal. and you can be such a huge part of that by just asking the questions and really listening to the response. its hard work, i know, but i will always be so grateful for the people who made me stop and look at myself and really see.

the third choice is you pretend its not happening and just wait to see if they get past it and come back. they might, its not implausible, but to me this feels like inviting yourself to be treated poorly again later when symptoms flare again and those fears react to something you dont understand or know about.

pwASPD and/or NPD - im not going to try and tell you that you owe it to the people around you to recover. im never saying that. recovery is your decision and it should only be for you. i chose recovery because i wanted to see what i wasnt able to before, and it has been so fucking hard. but id do it again in a heartbeat. its important to note though that i got lucky. really really fucking lucky, and id be doing you a disservice if i pretended otherwise. on that note, here is my advice for those who want to get better and those who dont:

if you dont, if you dont want to see the fear that is reacting to the perceived threat, if its still too painful to look at, just dont. let yourself be blind to it and find comfort in the ways you can. its not cowardly, and its not pathetic. sometimes forcing yourself to stare into a fire is more damaging than its worth, and you are the only one who can decide if it is or not. only you know how close to that fire you are. perhaps its better to distance yourself from this person even if its just for now, or perhaps its better to leave entirely. it depends on how uncomfortable you feel. but i suggest figuring it out quickly and saving yourself the trouble that will come if you string someone along for too long. its always blown up in my face eventually, for what my experience is worth, so deciding on your next move sooner than later saves you a lot of trouble. but perhaps the perks are better than the blow up later on. who am i to say.

if you do want to recover though, firstly, give yourself some credit. the way you are reacting is because this has kept you alive and safe this long, dont let yourself forget that. you arent ridiculous or pathetic or cowardly or whatever else your brain might be saying you are. you are alive, and you are deciding to grow past your trauma and the responses youve learnt to cope with it and thats fucking huge. dont forget it. now the first thing you want to do is really look at what is making you uncomfortable. something is, but itll take some digging. these survival methods run deep, and tracing back to the root of the issue will take time and a lot of work and so much fucking courage. its not easy, im not going to lie, but you can do it. you are worth the time and the work it takes to get the things you want for yourself. find out whats messing with you and see how you can resolve it, either by discussing it with your friend and letting them support you or just rationalising it with yourself. understand that you are able to keep yourself safe, you just have to figure out what you are afraid of being vulnerable to. youre going to be ok, and for the record, im really proud of you.

obviously to everyone: do whatever the fuck you want to forever. im not here to tell you to change your entire life just because i say you should, even im not that egotistical. im just offering my experiences and observations, its up to you what you do with them.

[ampheenix]

I'm at my highest peak, I'm ripe, about to fall (capture me) - CHAPTER 1

(BSD/MHA CROSSOVER FIC)

It was just a normal mission.

In and out, quick and easy- for Double Black, anyway. If Mori had sent grunts they wouldn’t have lasted five seconds with this particular Ability user, who seemed to enjoy slinging interdimensional frisbees at her enemies.

How annoying… but Dazai couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. This woman and her backup sure were giving his dog a lot of trouble, and it was kinda fun watching Chuuya struggle for once… battles like this were normally a cinch for him.

Whoops!

A bullet whistled past just before Dazai ducked back behind the rubble. The rubble he was STRATEGICALLY PLACED at (he was not hiding, as Chuuya seemed to believe and scoff at; figures that his dog wouldn’t understand simple logic. The simple logic being that he, for all his talents, was not bulletproof- and he wouldn’t put it past Chuuya to let a missile or two slip past his ability if he annoyed him enough.)

(Of course he wouldn’t mind a bullet to the brain, but unfortunately silly Chuuya’s aim was so inaccurate it was always a bullet to an arm or leg, and ended up being a painful inconvenience instead of sweet relief.)

Dazai poked his head back out, adjusting his bandages- this area was so dusty and dirty, it was starting to soil the cloth. He could already see stupid Mori smiling condescendingly once he saw his bandages, and chiding him for not being able to keep himself clean during battle… Ugh.

“SHITTY DAZAI, COME OUT AND USE YOUR ABILITY ALREADY!! I KNOW YOU’RE HIDING OVER THERE LIKE A COWARD!!!”

Ah, his dog was calling for him.

Dazai got to his feet, dusting the grime off of his clothes in a leisurely fashion, before making his way out from his ahem, strategic placing. His lips curled up into a grin when he saw Chuuya looking tired out for once; it was always nice to see him get humbled.

Dazai picked his way over all the grunts that had been firing carelessly earlier, now scattered in heaps on the ground. How messy of Chuuya, it was almost as if he had deliberately piled them in order to hinder his owner to the rescue.

“CHUUUUYAAAA, I’M HERE~” Dazai sang carelessly, doing a hop, skip and jump over a few bodies on the ground before coming to a stop beneath where the Gravity user was floating. Chuuya shot him a harried look, clearly out of breath as he continued to dart and dodge around the enemy’s rapid-fire attacks, hardly getting in any hits himself.

Yup, this Ability user certainly wasn’t your average run-of-the-mill… Dazai let out a slow hum, eyes narrowing. He had expected this mission to be somewhat difficult, but it was surprising that Chuuya had had to expend so much of his energy so early.

The Ability user was a tall, slender woman with flowing black hair, skin white as snow and an unnervingly wide grin. She floated in the air, slinging shimmering, dark-as-night disks through the air that arced in glittering curves… and where they landed, Dazai had already noted, they left deep holes in their wake.

Not your average holes, either. It was almost like they erased the land itself, leaving that odd, shimmery darkness all the way through. He had checked!

Dazai shuddered dramatically, who knows what would happen if someone fell through! Perhaps he should test that theory later, preferably with himself. Or, if Chuuya annoyed him enough, he could command him to jump in for the sake of scientific discovery.

Anyway, as fun as it was watching Chuuya put so much effort into living (so fascinatingly ridiculous) he should probably cut this short. It was rather tiresome watching that smug smile widening on the Ability user’s face; he had a nagging urge to put a bullet through her whitened teeth. Perhaps more than once.

Dazai let out a melodramatic sigh, stretching and rolling his shoulders- figures he’ll have to finish this irritating woman off for his dog. “CHUUYAAAA! IT’S TIME!!” Dazai announced with a bright smile, glancing up at the fiery-haired boy who was even more exhausted now, sweat beading on his forehead.

He barely had a second to shoot a glare down at Dazai before darting out the way as another shimmery disk whistled past, missing him by a hair. “IT’S ABOUT TIME, HURRY UP ALREADY!!”

Dazai smiled to himself, before sending a swift nod to Chuuya, both of them exchanging another glance quicker than you can blink before-

“Whoosh!” Dazai hummed brightly to himself as he flew through the air like an arrow, radiating scarlet light. This was the fun part, really, it was almost like he could fly- it was a shame he had to focus because if he didn’t, he’d probably get disc-ed and die and Mori would be annoyed with him.

Dazai’s eye glinted as he neared the woman, who continued to grin infuriatingly wide even as he was swooping in closer and closer- His mind raced faster and faster, everything coming to a head as he reached out, fingers inching closer and closer as the woman’s glowing hands conjured another disc, he was so close he could t-

“SHITTY DAZAI!!!!” A panicked yell interrupted his thoughts and he turned to see another disc zooming behind directly for him because the one she was “creating” with her hands was a DIVERSION, WOW, very original…

My, she really thought Dazai wouldn’t notice? Now that was just insulting, really.

Not to worry though, he knew his dog was observant. He was jerked out of the way in the nick of time, the disc cleaving through thin air and then straight through a broken-down building near them, leaving that shimmery midnight hole in its wake. Hm, fascinating.

Dazai reached out, natural curiosity overring caution of wellbeing, as that strange and dark shimmering substance looked almost… liquid. He wasn’t stupid though, he had gloves on, and his finger was just about to make contact when-

“MACKEREL, DON’T TOUCH THAT WEIRD SHIT!!” He was jolted out of the way just in time again, and let out a sigh of disappointment, unsurprised. Honestly, Chuuya was so boring, if he didn’t let Dazai experiment with weird substances that inexperience could kill him someday, you know. Probably. Maybe… Not really.

In any case, if weird substances kill him someday it’d be by choice, not by pure stupidity.

“Come now Chuuya, can’t I have a little fun?” Dazai whined, crossing his arms petulantly. He whipped his head to the side as a disc whistled straight past, nearly turning him into an Antoinette. Hm, as irritating as this woman was, at least she had better aim than Chuuya.

What a shame she’d be dead within the hour, truly. Dazai’s eye darkened as Chuuya sent him soaring through the air again, reaching out to touch and end all this, once and for all- he was getting a bit sick of beating around the bush.

His hand was getting closer and closer once more, ready to cut off this woman’s power and life in one fell swoo-

Wait.

Dazai felt a third set of eyes on him and darted around, instantly on his guard and- oh. Shit.

A second woman, identical to the first one, glided from the shadows of another building. Dread growing in the pit of his stomach, Chuuya tugged them both backwards through the air, unnerved as more and more clones of the Ability User emerged, still smiling wide.

“D-dazai, what the hell? Why didn’t you warn me about this? Is this another one of your twisted games or what?!” Chuuya scowled, eyebrows furrowed furiously as he turns to the other but Dazai is too shellshocked to respond, mind racing.

This… wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t in the intel.

But it was nothing Double Black couldn’t handle.

Dazai shook himself, giving Chuuya the look, and the other’s eyes cleared with understanding. “Shit, you couldn’t have warned me? Ugh, just don’t take too long like last time.” Chuuya let out a huff, shoving his hands in his pockets as he shot forwards to the first Ability user.

Dazai’s eyes darted around faster than you could blink, assessing the situation- it was a shame he wouldn’t be able to focus on watching his dog enter the Corruption state, beautiful as it was, but there was no time.

This was serious, he had to… hmm…

“Dazai! DAZAI!! LOOK O-”

Chuuya’s words were cut off unnervingly quickly, and Dazai stiffened completely. He knew what that meant, and he didn’t want to. A sense of horror filled him as the scarlet light around him started fading, the zero gravity surrounding his body disappearing completely as he fell through the air.

Shit.

 “No, no, no, no!! Chuuya?!” Dazai’s voice cracked against his will as his head snapped up and around, searching the air frantically as he plummeted. Where was he, WHERE WAS HE? “CHUUYA!”

He spun and found a disc swerving through the air swiftly towards him in a downward spiral, and- fuck, fuck, this must be the one that had gotten Chuuya, and it was coming straight for him and there was no time to dodge-

Dazai Osamu’s last thoughts were nothing but terror, dread and grief… and a sick sense of ironic relief, as though he had craved to die all his life, he had never wanted it to be like this.

THIS.

AH. AHDJ. !ADJSKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII#IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII101110110101000**101010110101011010101010101010101010101#@#%!01010101010102393892804822087152HHDHDHDHHHHHHHHHHHH42

01110011 01101111 01110101 01101011 01101111 01101011 01110101 00100000 01110011 01110101 01110000 01110010 01100101 01101101 01100001 01100011 01111001 00100001- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

-

-

-

-NO.

-THIS IS NOTHING.

-THERE IS NOTHING HERE.

-THERE IS ONLY DARKNESS.

-GO.

something whispers to the Boy-Shaped Wrongness in the space.

-GO. GO. GO. GO HERE.

-GO HERE NOW.

something shoves the Shape through the empty.

-GO. THERE IS NOTHING HERE.

something shifts the Boy-Shaped Wrongness over There.

something ends the Boy-Shaped Wrongness where it was Here, marvelling at such a short-lived mockery of an existence.

and something WAKES THE Boy-Shaped Wrongness UP.

SH. SHjdH.

DKSJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ%JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJDDDD$DDSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS010101010013101031010100130^@#$13J101301J10J1J03XJ131-1310100101@@000000101010101JKCM=

01100111 01100001 01111001 00100000 01110011 01100101 01111000------…….

Dazai Osamu splutters to a start, breathing heavily. His skin feels a bit strange, almost like it’s been peeled off, stretched and squashed, and then applied back onto his bones once more.

And his eye… he can feel the air on his other eye. It’s uncovered.

That fact alone jolts him up, eyes still closed, as he’s not looking forward to seeing a very displeased Mori standing by his deathbed. After all, he’d blacked out and almost died, and Chuu… Chuuya…

Dazai pushed that thought down for later. When it fought back, he viciously pushed it further and further until it was a scrunched up ball of agony at the back of his skull. Then, he inhaled deeply, as it smelled like… vanilla?

Mori’s “hospital” always smelt vaguely of blood and despair (even though it was deep cleaned daily) along with assorted chemicals. This… smelt sweet, but not the sickening sweetness of Mori’s smile. It was something very different.

Finally, Dazai opened his eyes, blinking blearily as his surroundings blurred and refocused.

First, he gawked.

And then, he gaped.

“Ah, good, one of you has finally awoken.”

Because sitting in front of him was a completely unfamiliar old lady squinting at him with a hint of suspicion in her eyes, hands folded in her lap, and standing beside her were… a series of ridiculously buff strangers.

Oh, and a white rat/bear/cat/?? who was smiling at him with the light of humanity in his eyes, despite obviously being an animal of some kind.

And wait, the lady had said one of you? Meaning it wasn’t just him? Dazai felt his heart leap into his throat, craning his neck, and finally noticed someone else lying in one of the other hospital beds, with- with very distinctive fiery red hair.

Chuuya was alive.

Dazai swallowed, blinking furiously as his eyes drifted across all the strangers before him, thoughts now filled with endless question marks.

Because… what the fuck?

[kouhaiofcolor]

Non blacks dni.

Like,,,,I hate to have to say this like this but. This just a thought. Idk where this perpetuation around dsbw being insecure w their complexions ever came from cus. When I tell yall I see & hear such blatant, more outwardly obvious insecurities way more often among dsbm than I ever do among dsbw, chile. Alotta these niggas lowkey be way too insecure to romantically pursue dsbw if they're dark skinned themselves & that shit is beyond weird.

And there definitely seems to be a correlation between how it seem like, the darker the nigga, the more colorist or self hating the reflection of his self worth & cultural value is in his dating patterns. Cus they exclusively lay up w, simp for & pedestalize non black women so aggressively (whom oddly enough can never retain their own non black cultural identity once they have the attention of black men — which to me off rip should be the most obvious & telltale sign of fetishism rather than personal attraction but).

Everybody (& i mean every, damn, body non black lol) got they hand out pouring all this energy into projecting that they have a relevance, understanding or proximity to blackness nowadays in this tsunami of an appropriative ass social "wave" — & these delusionally vindictive ass niggas leave the door propped wide ass open for em to walk thru, loiter, falsely claim our creativity & wash us out. And then spend the better part of the serial interracial relationships they be in cockily, relentlessly shitting on black women anywhere from like 60-100% of the time anyway. Even when we ain't studding them. Makes all the sense.

Mad props & appreciation for black men out here unafraid to be unpopularly centered — cus on God the average nigga don't even realize he the average nigga fr. Ion even see dsbw fiend for attention from white men or nbmoc the way these dudes be out here consciously & pridefully investing in white supremacy, antiblackness & colorism behind these culture vulture beckies & nbwoc. If you different, thank you. If you expending effort to genuinely esteem & uplift dsbw as a dsbm w/o needing something to gain in return, thank you. 🖤 if you out here safeguarding & gatekeeping blackness & diasporic black culture w purpose as a black man, thank you.

Shit wild out here. Literally all you gotta do is sit back & observe. Everybody on a bandwagon fr. Playing roles fr.

[pantoneyoongi]

the sun & the stars | 01 | kth

title ; the sun & the stars pairing ; taehyung x you

word count ; 5.4k

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

description ; 

taehyung’s known you almost his whole life - his sister’s best friend, the girl who invades his home and his life on the daily. you’re the one who gave his sister the nickname ‘sky’ to begin with - and also the one who relented when he whined about it at age five and said okay, you can be the stars, then. 

it’s funny, because to him, you’re just the petty, mischievous neighbor from across the street with a penchant for stealing his snacks. but over the years, you’ve somehow landed yourself a reputation that stretches beyond the 1.5 year age gap he has with you - for someone who generally likes to keep things low key, you sure have a way of drawing attention. 

sky’s friendly, teasing best friend is known for being cold, impassive, and immovable. which is weird, because when he’s around you, all he sees are unabashed grins and terrible jokes. until he realizes maybe he doesn’t know you like he thought he did. maybe they’re right - it just so happens that the walls you throw up around him look a little different from the walls you throw up around everyone else. 

tracklist ; willow - taylor swift, give me your forever - zack tabudlo ft. billkin, limbo - keshi

notes ; 

ok so i don’t have a masterlist for this yet but this is going to be part of a universe called the sun & the sky universe, about two besties and their love lives and friendship and originally it was supposed to be a one-shot for each character but i have spiraled wildly out of control and now this character (sun) has a mini-series, oops. 

anyway this is the first installation in the sun & the sky universe and eventually i will get around to making a masterpost. thank u for reading !! 

tags ; college!au, best friend’s little brother!au, childhood friends to lovers, you have a cold/ice princess reputation, angst, fluff, mentions of absent parents and financial instability, you’re referred to as ‘sun’, taehyung’s sister referred to as ‘sky’, mentions of some dude being kinda pushy at the beginning, some business major slander (sorry) (sort of), there will be pov switches later, there will also be seokjin slander (he’ll deserve it unfortunately i’m so sorry), slow burn?? i think??, brief mentions of infidelity at some point later too, honestly this whole fic is probably more about friendships than it is about romance but anyways, yes this is the fic that i wrote 10k for and then randomly decided to rewrite the entire thing bc i have no control over my life thank u very much, anyway here it is i hope u like it 

to be very clear: you don’t like freshmen. 

irritation crawls up your spine, and you spare just enough time to glance both ways before crossing the street to reach your friend, who looks increasingly uncomfortable. she’s already backed up enough that she’s only centimeters from the wall behind her, which, in case the relief on her face at the sight of you didn’t already spell it out, tells you plenty enough that this one’s persistent and unwelcome. 

“hey.” you don’t raise your voice when you reach them. you generally make it a point not to expend more energy than absolutely necessary, but particularly when it comes to men, and especially when they’re harassing your best friend. you hardly look his way, instead speaking to your friend with a tilt of your head towards the campus dining hall. “let’s go.” 

jinyoung calls you blunt and a little rude (affectionate), but you prefer the terms ‘concise’ and ‘clear’. as in, you are concisely and clearly indicating the freshman should leave. you know, something about a-b conversations and how he should c his way out. 

your shoulders raise ever so slightly when, predictably, the freshman opens his mouth to argue. that’s the thing about freshmen. and transfers. and men who don’t know what’s good for them: they don’t know you, and they don’t know your reputation, and that causes more problems than you care to deal with. 

lucky for him, he happens to know someone who’s been out of the womb for longer than the ten seconds this kid appears to have been. in your peripheral, you watch the freshman get yanked back by a junior you think might’ve been in one of your roman history lectures last semester. “what the fuck is wrong with you,” he hisses to his friend, eyes darting nervously between the boy and you. his voice raises to normal speaking levels. “i’m so sorry. he’s so sorry for bothering you,” and then he’s dragging the kid away with hushed, frantic whispers. you watch them cross the street and head down and away, before turning back to your friend. 

“you good, sky?” 

she gives you a half-smile. “i’d be better with food in me.” 

your lips twitch, and you sling an arm over her shoulders, tugging her through the dining hall doors. “good thing that’s what we’re here for.” 

.

.

.

your reputation is more tall tale than fact, but you let it carry you through the four years of high school and now clean through your four years of college, too. for a group of students who are so rarely capable of meeting your eyes, they speak fairly condescendingly about you. it probably has a lot to do with the ‘sun’ nickname, seeing as it just seems laughable to associate the most well-known star in the galaxy with you. 

you’re not warm. you don’t light up a room. none of the good cliches line up with you, and to most people, the nickname is more irony than anything else. but you didn’t get the nickname from them, you got it from sky, shortly after you gave her hers when you were seven. 

(seven year old you was a lot friendlier.)

your eyes slide closed, chin propped against your palm as you wait at the lunch table. sky is grabbing food while you save the table, waiting for her brother and his partner in crime to show up. 

the four of you grew up on the same street - sky and taehyung in the house across from you, and jimin a couple doors down. jimin and taehyung are technically the same age, the way you and sky are too, but taehyung’s birthday is so late in the year that he’s two grades below you instead of just one. they say you and sky have been inseparable since day one, but taehyung and jimin must be conjoined at the hip - you don’t find one without seeing the other. 

you feel someone brush past you, a hand hovering by your head, but before it can nudge you, you say with closed eyes, “watch it, kid.” 

your eyes flutter open, finding jimin pouting in front of you, hand returning to his side. “how’d you know it was me?” 

“who else would dare?” you arch an eyebrow, and he sucks his teeth, dropping into the seat diagonal from you. taehyung takes the seat to your left, nodding his head in greeting towards you. 

your lips quirk to the side. “do i not deserve the honor of your voice today, taetae?” you give him doe eyes, just to watch him scowl at you. 

growing up with taehyung and sky right across the street from you meant watching taehyung turn from an adorable toddler, to a mildly annoying child, into a definitely annoying teenager. this also included a two year stint in which taehyung refused to speak to you (or in general, really), only making vague grunting noises and giving you curt nods in an attempt to come off as stoic and brooding. 

(as a shock to no one: it was ineffective as far as ‘stoic’ and ‘brooding’ go.) 

ever since he decided to grace you with his voice again, you take any chance to remind him of it. you grin wickedly as he lolls his head back with a groan. “i was shy,” he protests, bordering on a whine. 

you scoff. “i’ve known you since you were three, fuck outta here,” you cuff him lightly upside the head, taehyung’s lower lip jutting out at the action. “you were just an angsty teenager.” 

sky makes her appearance at that moment, setting her tray down. “can confirm,” she agrees with zero proper context. “you were just an angsty teenager.” 

taehyung huffs. you poke your tongue against your cheek, amusement lighting your eyes. he tries to glare but taehyung’s always been a little soft on you, even if he won’t admit it. he marks defeat with a switch in subject. “you look tired.” 

you sputter out a laugh. “i’m a college student,” you smack his shoulder lightly. “i always look tired.” you redirect your attention back to jimin and sky, joining the conversation they’d started, but taehyung stays quiet, studying you. eventually he gets up to grab food, jimin following after him, but you opt to just lay your head against your forearm, letting sky pat your head sympathetically. 

you raise your head only when the boys return, eyes widening slightly in surprise when taehyung comes back with two trays, sliding one in front of you wordlessly. “you raised him well,” jimin sighs dramatically to sky. “treats his elders with respect.” 

“that makes one of you,” you quip, just as sky goes, “are you calling me an elder?” 

the two of you burst into laughter at the look on jimin’s face, halfway between being offended by you and defensive against sky, and while you’re busy teasing jimin, you don’t notice taehyung watching you, wondering how anyone can see you as cold and standoffish, not when he sees you like this, voice loud and eyes crinkled in the corners, always the brightest whenever you make the people you love and care about laugh. they say you’re cruel and unforgiving, but he’s known you for years and he doesn’t really feel like you’ve changed much - still wildly dramatic and bitingly sarcastic - and also apparently still endlessly prone to stealing food from him and sky, he thinks dryly, as he throws you a dirty look for snagging a french fry off his plate despite having your own. 

you smile pretty at him. “sharing is caring, taetae.” 

he can’t retort when you blink your eyes at him like that because there’s just no winning when it comes to you. all he can do is let out a deep sigh and fight the smile making its way onto his face when your laughter chimes in his ear. 

.

.

.

“what if,” you start, just for jinyoung to cut you off. 

“no.” 

you throw the towel down onto the table, affronted. “you didn’t let me finish.” 

he stares flatly at you, then makes a jerky, ‘go-ahead’ gesture with his hand. 

“what if,” you start again, pointing your finger at him. “i drop out of school-” 

“what if,” jinyoung smiles like he’s got knives for teeth. “i get you fired?” 

you scrunch your nose. “then i’d be young, dumb, and broke.” 

“just like all the cool kids,” jinyoung sighs, clearly not giving a fuck. “hurry up, we got company.” 

the bell above the restaurant door rings as probably an entire fraternity funnels in, forty-five minutes before your shift ends. “perfect,” you mutter, picking up your towel again, scrubbing the table clean while jinyoung puts on a (notably knifeless) smile for your customers. the closing shift can never end quietly, always some group coming in last minute to interrupt your peaceful night. you always know jinyoung happens to like you because he sidles up to the group with his full charm and a notepad, ready to take orders, letting you slink off to the back to finish cleaning up so the two of you can get out of here as quickly as possible as soon as the sign flips to ‘closed.’ 

jinyoung returns to the back to rattle off orders five minutes later, then leans with his back to the counter as you rinse dishes to put into the industrial dishwasher. “you should stop taking extra shifts. your eyebags have eyebags,” he informs you, as gently as he can. you glance at him, wondering if it’s worth it to flick him with water. but you know he’s just trying to be nice, so you opt against it. 

you suck in a breath, setting another dish down onto the rack. “i can’t,” you shrug. “i am, in fact, young, dumb, and broke.” 

he presses his lips together in a non-smile. like you, jinyoung is here on scholarship and part of the pity-party program your school has for kids who meet the criteria of “too poor to afford higher education.” you met him in said program over the summer, when you were all forced to come in for summer classes, just in case you came from a district without sufficient resources to teach you calculus. 

he runs a tired hand through his hair, offering you a small smile before heading out with an array of dishes balanced impressively on his arm. the frat has approximately twenty minutes to shovel it all down before the restaurant officially calls it lights out. you have no doubts they’ll make it with time to spare. 

you flip the settings for the dishwasher and let it run, tugging off your gloves and wandering towards the front. absently, you stare out the glass that makes up the storefront, eyes nearly glazing over until you spot them - your head lifting slowly as you lean forward a little to squint. 

she’s a little too far out, but the person heading down the street looks an awful lot like sky, flanked by someone who looks half a foot taller than her, which is saying something, considering sky is half a foot taller than you. your head tilts, curious, but by the time you’ve blinked enough times to get your vision back in focus, they’re out of sight. 

shaking it off, you check the clock to see that you’re ten minutes to closing, confirmed by the way you hear the frat boys noisily filing back out just the way they came in. jinyoung’s eyes meet yours and you give a tired nod, the two of you working in tandem to clear the remaining dishes to finish cleaning up and close up shop. 

jinyoung bids you goodbye outside the restaurant with a pat on the shoulder, parting ways. it’s late, little ways past ten at night, and you slump your shoulders as you trudge down the street back to your apartment. 

you take a half step back when taehyung’s face suddenly appears in front of yours, familiar dark eyes peering at you. he’s got his hands in his pockets and he’s bent over slightly to meet your height, and you frown at him. “what are you doing here?” 

“jimin dragged me out,” he explains, straightening back up. “but now they’re getting drunk, so.” 

of the four of you, jimin’s always been the only one with anything close to a social life. he parties, he drinks, he gets hungover, and then he gets straight a’s. go figure. 

you hum, the two of you falling into step together. the silence is comfortable, padded with the general ruckus of the downtown, cars speeding past and drunk students being rowdy. you make your way back to the main streets on campus, taehyung slowing his steps to match your snail pace. 

“sun,” he breaks the quiet between you. you look at him. 

he opens his mouth to speak, but there’s only empty air, the words dying on his tongue when he sees how dull your eyes look after a long shift. your eyes have always sparkled, glinting with trouble and quick wit, so it sort of stings to see the light fade out with how weary you are. 

“never mind,” he smiles, tilting his chin towards your building’s front door. “we’re here.” 

you look confused but don’t press the matter, patting him on the arm with a warm smile. “get back safe. thanks for walking me home, tae.” you tip-toe to ruffle his hair, like you always have, despite the near foot of height he now towers over you with, then disappear into your building without a second glance back. 

taehyung sighs, hand absently pressed to the spot where you’d touched his arm. he knows your smile better than anyone else’s, that dazzling grin of yours that you reserve only for your closest friends. even when taehyung went through his brooding phase, you always offered it out to him with a friendly wave. 

the campus might not understand the nickname ‘sun,’ but taehyung knows it suits you perfectly. 

.

.

.

“am i still allowed to live in your basement if i fail out of college?” 

you punctuate the end of your question by dropping the bag of take-out you brought with you onto the table, though the end of your sentence sort of peeters off a little when you realize there’s someone else departing the table, a low voice murmuring a goodbye to your friend. you don’t catch his face before his tall frame walks away, but your brows furrow, puzzled. you don’t recognize him. 

“i think you’d live in my basement regardless of what i say,” sky responds, seemingly unaware of your perplexion. “but unfortunately you’re not allowed to fail out of college.” 

your eyes are still on the man who’d just left, even as you pull out the take-out and hand it over to sky. you’re tempted to ask, but when you glance back at her, she has an unnervingly neutral expression on her face, and you falter, deciding to drop it. 

sky likes to keep her circle small. most of the time it’s just you, jimin, and taehyung, though both of you do still keep in touch with yoongi and hoseok from high school, and there is that one girl from her major, soojung. but for the most part, sky prefers keeping to herself, so much so that on occasion she’ll just drop off the grid without any warning. you suppose you’re like her in that way, though her version of dropping off the grid is usually more accidental (read: a new video game came out and she forgot she has to remind people she’s alive) whereas yours tends to be very intentional (read: you’re overwhelmed and so much as seeing or interacting with another person could equate to a new, special kind of torture, built explicitly for you). 

you slide on a smile for her, settling down into your seat. “eat,” you gesture. “need at least one of us to make it past graduation if i’m gonna live in your basement.” 

as sky tucks in, absently scrolling through her phone, your mind wanders. it’s not that you need to know every last detail of sky’s life, but she’s your best friend, and it just tends to happen, anyway. sky’s life is so heavily interwoven with yours, since you were five and moved into the house across the street from hers, and she let you into her home like you’d always belonged there. 

then again, that was a boy you’d seen walking away. your eyes shift back to sky, who isn’t paying you much mind, and you look away again. the truth is, the tightly bound friendship you hold with sky feels as fragile as it does indestructible, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

.

.

.

food is your love language. giving it, receiving it, whatever the case is - it’s love. it might also be your sole motivator for doing just about anything, but that’s besides the point. 

you use food as a means of taking care of the people around you. it’s not exactly a flashy show of affection, but you don’t have a particularly heartwarming vocabulary, or the disposition to shower people in your affection, so this is what you do. most people seem to take the hint. you figure that’s why taehyung puts up with you on at minimum a weekly basis, grabbing a meal together whenever he’s free. 

today, he’s seated at your kitchen counter, glancing around your apartment like he hasn’t been here a million times before. you set your ever-gourmet pot of instant noodles down on top of a pot holder. “ta-da,” you beam at him, waving your hands dramatically. “my specialty.” 

“you treat me so well,” he says dryly, but his eyes are affectionate and he’s still picking up his chopsticks almost immediately, tongue poking out at the corner of his lips in anticipation. you press your lips together to hide a smile, watching him gather noodles, messily sucking them into his mouth, flicking soup everywhere. 

you click your tongue a little but don’t nag, though the look you give him makes him settle down a little, chewing slower and acting at least somewhat more like a civilized human being. he looks properly chastised, and the corner of your lips lift in a small smirk of amusement. 

the two of you eat quietly, taehyung because he’s always been quiet and you because you’re lost in thought, enough so that you forget to entertain taehyung the way you usually do (read: complain about almost every class you’re in and lament your age, as if you’re anything more than a year and a half older than taehyung, max). your eyes are distant, chopsticks absently picking up noodles to eat, on autopilot. 

you glance back to taehyung, who doesn’t seem to mind your quiet. he’s used to your noise, but you suppose at some point he also grew used to your quiet, too. maybe that’s just what decade-long friendships are like. you learn the usuals, the unusuals, and all of the in between. 

teeth gnawing at your lower lip, you wonder if he knows about the guy who’s been hovering around sky. this guy who sky doesn’t want to introduce to you, not yet, which means he’s important enough to her that she cares whether you meet him or not. whether because your opinion matters or because of something else, you haven’t figured out yet. 

taehyung’s eyes rise to meet yours, chopsticks halfway to his mouth when he sees the way you gaze at him thoughtfully, head tilted to the side. your brows are drawing in, and he wants to press his fingers to the crease in the middle, undo the tension, but instead he just asks, “something up?” 

you hesitate. for just a fraction of a second, but he catches it. because that’s what decade-long friendships are like. but you’re too quick for him to push it, too easily pull on a smile and reach over to tug on his ear like he’s still a child, nagging at him. “i’m fine,” you admonish. “don’t you worry about me, kid.” 

he grumbles something incoherent and swats at your hand, grumbles bordering on whines when you don’t let up, until he catches you grinning at him, mischievous as ever. you retract your hand, satisfied by the grumpy look on his face, though your smile falters a little when you see that it’s not enough to wipe the worry in his eyes. 

you focus on your food instead, just so you can avoid that look. but you can still feel him staring at you, like he’s waiting for you to give in to him, so you lift your head back up with a beam and start rattling off, extensively, until he loses that look in his eyes. until he’s back to just regular taehyung, sky’s little brother taehyung, neighbor from across the street taehyung, and not grown-up taehyung, walks you home taehyung, eats with you weekly because he doesn’t want you to be lonely taehyung. 

you’re not ready to admit it. taehyung’s only gotten more handsome and charming in his own right over the years. it makes it so that you can’t stand the way that he looks at you sometimes, like he can see right through you. 

he’s not supposed to. he’s taehyung. he’s part of your safe, little bubble; the one you built, where the sun can only shine. 

.

.

.

waking up is such a miserable experience, you muse. 

it’s ass o’clock in the morning. honestly, any time you need to wake up before noon is ass o’clock, but you have to study for your exams and you have a help desk shift later too, so unfortunately, 7am it is. 

you force yourself to roll out of bed, look vaguely human-shaped (aka: wear respectable enough clothes), and lug yourself to the library. you could study in your room but you’re a weak bitch and the bed being two feet away is too strong a temptation. therefore: library. 

you find a corner to hide away in, scribbling away in your notebook in hopes of retaining an ounce of the information you’ve written down. the hours pass like that, and by some miracle, you don’t develop a stress-induced headache by the time you need to leave for your shift. 

you toss your belongings into your backpack, tugging it onto your back, a quite physical reminder of the weight on your shoulders. 

you don’t necessarily think that life is unkind to you. you just think everyone gets dealt their deck of cards, and yours happens to be slightly shittier. but hey, if you’re broke enough, you get free housing at the nicest set of apartments on campus, so you win some, you lose some, right? 

the losing part right now is the multi-set of jobs running you into the ground. between the restaurant, your help desk job, and the work-study program, it’s a miracle you haven’t failed any of your courses. 

you heave a sigh, letting yourself feel bad about it for a minute. you deserve at least that, in the quiet of the library this early in the morning, while most of campus is happily sleeping in on a saturday. 

‘most’ is the key word here. you should’ve known your best friend has the integrity of a monk, seeing as she’s at the library at nearly 10am on a weekend. 

you slink your way over to her, sneaking up behind her and slinging an arm over her shoulder, mouth already open to whisper-shout her name - that is, up until you spot the man standing before her. 

the smile slides off your face immediately. for someone at his towering size, he’d been pretty well hidden behind the shelves. he looks suspiciously close in height to the person you’d seen that night at the restaurant, and the other day when you’d brought sky lunch. 

he smiles politely at you, dimples denting in his cheeks. your frown deepens. you’re certain now, that you don’t recognize him in your catalog of sky’s acquaintances, and she seems comfortable around him, much more than she is around any of her classmates. 

“hi, sun,” sky greets, gentle smile rising to her lips, though you’re too busy sizing up this guy she’s talking to. he’s sort of huge. he has kind eyes, though, hair swept off to the side, white tee tucked loosely into light colored jeans. but you still stand wary, too familiar with boys who have sweet dispositions and not enough good intentions. 

see, the first thing anyone notices about sky is that she’s nice. 

well, okay. the first thing most people notice about sky is that she’s pretty. elegant, like she was a princess in some past life, between her perpetual good posture (what college student do you know that isn’t hunched over like a gremlin at least 73% of the time?) and perfectly set hair, not a strand out of place. she’s pretty, in a way that carries into her personality, patient and open. she’s always listened to whatever blown-out-of-proportion story you have for her, letting you drag her into any and all of your bad ideas, no matter the consequences. 

the point is that sky holds the sort of kindness that knows no boundaries. she’s content to go with the flow, and despite all the times she’s been let down by passing acquaintances who you’ve ensured can no longer call her a friend, she’s still willing to help. she gives out second, third, fourth chances, doesn’t let the hurt get in the way of her ability to care. 

her walls don’t go up as high as yours do. so you make every effort to make sure that the people who take advantage of that never get a chance to hurt her. 

“who’s this?” 

sky blinks, looking between you and him. christ, he is massive. his biceps are probably the size of your head. 

you mostly keep your eyes on him, but turn to glance at sky when she takes a minute longer than usual to answer. she looks a bit startled, like she’s just now realizing you’re actually here; moreover, that you don’t know who her new friend is. 

“oh,” she says, lips turning downwards a little, conflicted. something inside you flinches. but then her expression clears and she smiles. “this is namjoon. we have class together.” 

namjoon lifts a hand to wave even while you’re narrowing your eyes at him. but still, your hands return to your pockets and you take a step back, forcing your stiff shoulders to lower. 

you’re intruding, you realize. sky is having a moment with this tall, handsome person who could probably twist you into a pretzel if he wanted to, and you’re intruding. 

a weight sits on your chest at the realization, but you force a smile to your face for sky. you and your reputation and your trust issues need to step out of this. 

“i.. i gotta get to work,” you say, anxious hands tugging at your backpack straps just for something to hold onto. “i just popped by ‘cause i saw you.” you glance towards namjoon, trying your best to maintain the smile you generally reserve only for close friends, but it turns too quickly into a grimace so you settle for a curt nod of acknowledgement, before lifting a hand to sky. “see you ‘round.”

you pretend not to notice how sky’s expression falters, heading out without turning around once. the discomfort rolls over in you, pulling at your heart, keeping your shoulders tense. 

the way sky looks at namjoon is different. you can tell. two minutes in the same space, and you know sky isn’t just being polite like she was raised to be. she’s content to be around him, their eyes darting to meet each other in quick glances, like it’s difficult to let their gazes stray for too long. 

namjoon doesn’t give you any immediate warning signs, and sky’s gotten a lot better at picking her friends. you don’t have to protect her, she’s perfectly capable of it herself. but you still feel wary, still worry that dimpled, unassuming namjoon will fuck her over like any number of people have in the past. 

including you, your brain reminds you. you’re the worst one. 

your heart tightens in your chest and you shoulder your way out the doors of the library, like barreling into something will shake off the memory any easier. 

high school is hard for anyone. emotions are at all time highs; everything feels like it’s high stakes. grades, friendships, romances. everything is always, constantly, on the line. 

sky always says it’s not your fault. kim seokjin was not your fault. you were teenagers - kids, really - but no matter how she spins it, you know you’re the one who messed up. even if sky doesn’t blame you, you still do. 

how are you supposed to trust your instincts, when the last time you let your guard down for a boy with a disarming smile, he hurt not only you, but your best friend? 

sky’s your most important person. her family was there when no one else was, and they didn’t ask questions, either. you don’t think you’ll forgive yourself for letting her down once, and you know you can’t afford to let it happen again. no matter how many times sky says you’ve never had anything to apologize for. 

you’re so lost in your own head that you almost bump into someone, so wound up that you nearly fire off immediately before realizing it’s taehyung standing in front of you, looking equal parts amused and concerned. “i think i know what they mean now when they say, ‘blaze a path,’” he muses, and you scoff at him, shoving him to the side without any real force. 

“walking with purpose is not what that metaphor means, tae,” you keep marching forward, not bothering to check if he’s matching pace. he’s got long legs, he’ll be fine. “‘blazing a path’ means-” 

“sun,” taehyung interrupts, voice low enough that you actually stop lecturing him. his voice softens a little. “you alright? you look like-” 

you don’t let him finish, nor give him the courtesy of even a glance his way. “i’m dandy, taetae. just going to my nine to five.” 

“you don’t have a nine to five. you’re a student.” 

“good job, einstein. wanna tell me how the sky is blue, too?” 

“sun.” 

you know you’re being curt. you’re lashing out at the wrong person and you stop in your steps to breathe in deeply, exhaling slowly. 

“i’m just tired,” you finally spare him a look. you sigh. “i’m sorry. but i really do have to go to work, and if i don’t haul ass, i’m gonna be late.” 

he looks at you like he doesn’t believe you, but you both know he’s going to drop it. “you should sleep more,” he settles on. you know he’s about to lecture you with a series of hard facts. “people need eight hours-” 

you smirk at him, “you know damn well there’s not a single college student out there getting eight hours of sleep.” 

he shrugs. “maybe the business majors?” 

you snort. “no. they’re out partying.” 

he snaps his fingers. “right. forgot about those.” 

“you can forget about parties when your best friend is jimin?” you ask in mock amazement. he scoffs out a laugh in return. 

“shut up, sun. i’m serious, you need more sleep. you look like death.” 

“oooh,” you tease. “you really know how to make a girl feel pretty.” 

taehyung turns his gaze skyward, and you know he’s asking some higher being for the patience to put up with you. you snicker, patting him on the arm. “you’ll get it when you’re older,” you blink forlorn eyes at him, smile overly sympathetic. he scowls back. you make a vague attempt at hiding your amusement, but otherwise continue towards the office, taehyung keeping you company. he doesn’t say anything else, just walks with you. you don’t ask where he was supposed to be headed before you bumped into him, and he doesn’t tell you, either. 

it’s when you’re almost at the door that you break your silence, that nagging feeling pulling and pulling at you until you crack. “hey,” you spin towards him, stopping in your tracks right in front of the building. “do you know a namjoon?” 

he tilts his head, surprised. “namjoon? yeah, he’s like uhh,” taehyung pauses to think. “i think he was sky’s project partner or something, and now they’re pretty good friends. they have class together. why?” 

you make a noncommittal noise. “nothing. just saw them together earlier. sky’s never brought him up before.” 

you try not to think too hard at the way taehyung’s eyebrows shoot up. it’s a sign that you’re not overthinking this, that it is weird that sky never mentioned him, because sky tells you everything. 

but she didn’t tell you about namjoon. 

masterlist | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

[snarkys-malarky]

Snow Time like the Present

Not really happy with the title name but I wanted to throw in my donation toward Tech Tuesday!!

This version is SFW and can be read by those of the 13+ crowd I feel. If you want the spicy version, hit me up. I may post it later anyway if I get time.

I live off the dopamine dump from comments, reblogs and reviews.

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I wasn’t sure how I kept getting myself into weird situations but it seemed to be a trend in my life that had no intention of slowing down. Sitting inside of a grounded space craft, freezing my arse off while waiting for the other person I was with to (hopefully) return was definitely, I felt, outside of normal for most folks. This other person with me insisted on cheecking on the hyperdrive for which, and I quote, my assistance was unnecessary. I wasn’t sure what I did to make him dislike me but (ok, well maybe I have an idea but I apologized) try as I might, I couldn’t get on his good side. I credited it to the way I met up with him and the odd but loveable bunch of misfits that was his family.

After all, I was trying (accidentally) to kill them.

A fact for which I have repeatedly apologized and done my very best to make amends for but some people just refuse to let bygones be bygones.

It wasn’t even personal. I was in a bit of a spot and the guy who I owed quite a bit of credits to insisted that bringing in the kid would wipe the slate clean and I would be free to go. Considering he had my ship impounded and I couldn’t get off the dirtball where he reigned supreme without it, I agreed. I’m no professional bounty hunter, how was I supposed to know she had 4 older brothers who would literally do anything to protect her?

And is it my fault that the kid and I got into a tug of war over the blaster and the kill/stun switch got moved from stun to kill just as I pulled it away from her and then had to fight for my life against the running tide of death that suddenly rounded the corner and was chasing us?

It’s not like I intended to hit goggle guy.

With my abysmal aim, I thought it was a miracle I hit anyone at all, and it was just a flesh wound anyway, only grazed his thigh…kinda.

I tried to explain that once they (of course) caught us. Funnily enough, it was the kid and the small mountain of a man (who I later learned was called Omega and Wrecker respectively and both of whom I absolutely adore) who decided to use their superpower of irresistible baby tooka eyes to keep the others from killing me on the spot just for the principle of the thing. The pale one (whose name is Echo and who has a never-ending supply of corny jokes) just rolled his eyes and went to help the one I accidentally winged while the bandana wearing hottie (Hunter, who needs a massage more than anyone I have ever met) just sighed and turned to me. I offered to help patch up goggle guy (called Tech and the source of my current woes) but the death glare said goggle wearing guy sent me killed that. Granted he was doing a pretty good job on his own with the stuff from his backpack.

Hunter, arms crossed and broody scowl firmly in place, was the one to interrogate me and find out why I was trying to kidnap their sister.

Like I said, it wasn’t personal. I just wanted my ship back and to get the hell off that planet. I couldn’t even tell them why Horgan (that was the guy holding my ship to ransom) wanted her. He just said she’d been kidnapped and was worth a lot of money returned and he didn’t plan to kill or slave her.

I do have some principles after all.

Getting the hell off that planet would suffice as well since I didn’t figure Horgan to be the type to expend the energy to come after me, especially if he still had my ship. Losing my ship would hurt for sure, it was the only thing I really had and my way of making money but, in the balance of the galaxy and my personal life or death, I had no problem leaving it.

Imagine my surprise when Hunter (after a stern look from the kid) offered a ride off planet.

Since my momma didn’t raise no fool, I jumped at the offer and followed them back to their ship, listening the whole way to the pale guy and goggle guy list reasons why helping me was a Bad Idea.

It was kinda funny when Omega turned to look at both of her complaining brothers and told them they were better than that just like she was their mother.

It was even funnier when they both shut up and looked away, just like they had been scolded by their mother.

Considering that clones don’t have mothers I figure that was another of Omega’s superpowers. However, I didn’t know that at the time, about them being clones, so my snort laughing at their faces probably didn’t help my situation but it didn’t get me left behind either so…win.

They were all shocked to discover, on our way back to Ord Mantell, their apparent base of operations, that I had been a blockade runner during the Clone Wars for several Republic planets and was about 9/10 of the way to having my healer certifications.

Ha, not the shiftless no good you guys just assumed I was.

How I ended up on Partoola was a long story and one I didn’t like to think about so I gave them the redacted version.

The heavily redacted version.

Which was something along the lines of “I don’t know you and I don’t want to talk about it but it involved nothing illegal and I’m not wanted by the Empire”.

Which was more than they could say so I call it fair.

My skill set allowed me to easily get a job on Ord Mantell (apparently even almost healers were rare in the Outer Rim, especially Core trained ones, and I was a hot commodity) and it wasn’t long before I had a shitty little apartment and found myself often hosting the young Omega and Co. when they were on planet.

I blame it on the fact I could cook, and liked to cook, and had money with which to buy food to cook and they all, to a man (and child), greatly appreciated food that wasn’t rations.

The first time I invited them over to eat, by way of apology for trying to kidnap Omega and giving Tech a new scar, I wasn’t sure they would come. I had cornered them at Cid’s, their official, unofficial, hangout, about a month after our adventure together. I had seen them several times before as Omega had decided before we even made it to Ord Mantell to adopt me, like I was some kind of lost tooka kit, and insisted on comming me whenever they were on the planet and wanting to see me.

Which usually meant me meeting her at Cid’s and either spending time losing repeatedly to Omega in dejarik or, if a brother was available, going on chaperoned walks to the market square and buying Mantell Mix, for which she had a serious addiction.

This time she had greeted me enthusiastically by jumping into my arms (it was a good thing I was tall for a female) and telling me she was glad to see me alive.

I had to wonder at what all this kid experienced for that to be her go to greeting.

All four of the men were gathered at the bar, drinks in hand and turned to look at me with a synchronization which was a little bit disturbing, to be honest.

I put on my best smile.

And noted Tech look down with a frown.

Oh well, can’t win them all.

I repeated my carefully rehearsed invitation and was please to note Omega’s eyes light up and she began to bounce. A good indicator that my invitation would probably be accepted, no matter how the others felt about it.

That child had them so whipped.

If she ever figured out how much I wanted ring side seats.

I was also gratified to note Wrecker’s hopeful expression and even Echo looked intrigued.

Hunter, as usual, looked cautious.

Tech just kept looking down.

In the end, the invite was accepted and I and my tiny apartment played host to a group of clones who acted like they had never had real food before.

It was a bit of a cringe thought to think that maybe they hadn’t.

After poking and prodding and carefully sniffing (even though they all commented at some point how good it smelled when they arrived) they all began to eat.

And eat.

And eat.

Holy kriff was I glad I estimated on the larger end of the scale how much to cook because they cleaned it all up.

And no one spent any time hesitating over dessert when I brought it out, instead falling in with enthusiasm.

I noticed Tech’s enthusiasm seemed to be just a bit more than the others and took amused note that he was the apparent sweet tooth in the bunch.

There then followed a much more relaxed atmosphere of food filled males. Once I turned on the holonet and found a program which Tech and Omega both latched onto with enthusiasm, I set about cleaning up the disaster as I observed them with no small amount of amusement. I knew by now they lived on their ship and wondered how often they had such an opportunity as this, to do something that most beings considered so normal and mundane.

It wasn’t long before all but Omega and Tech were steadily filling the air with the soft sounds of sleeping males. Those two were still glued to the holoprojector. I finished my cleanup before making my way to the small sitting area and settling onto the floor next to Omega. I had snagged from the back of the sofa the large throw and, after sitting, unfolded it to share across with Omega and Tech as well. He demurred, saying he was not cold which left Omega to gleefully gather up the remainer and burrow into it, leaning into my side and cuddling down until her head was nearly in my lap.

I was pretty sure she would be asleep before long.

I was right.

I looked down and grinned when I heard the soft sounds of her snoring, not being able to resist petting that fluffy blond mop. I ran my hands thru her hair, scritching gently at her head. I looked up after a moment to find Tech gazing intently at us. I offered him a small smile and was again disappointed as he turned quickly away, fastening his attention to the screen in front of us.

I sighed quietly.

I found myself after that night mass cooking at least once a week for six. At first, they used an array of flimsy excuses to find a way to finagle an invitation until I finally took the bantha by the horns and told them I really appreciated getting to exercise my cooking skills again and also get to have company which just so happened to intimidate the local nasties enough that they tended to steer clear of my apartment block when they decided to practice their main skillsets of B&E.

Maybe it was a slight stretch of the truth but the upshot was I got to have company and cook, they got to eat and spend time somewhere other than their ship and I had the safest apartment in that not particularly great neighborhood.

Another upshot was I occasionally got tapped to come with them on missions (read money making gigs), especially if there was the possibility of Omega needing to be kept out of trouble.

The first time I went because I happened to be off work for a couple days, was bored, and Omega gave me her class 1 baby aak eyes, which, so far as I knew, no one had the power to resist.

The subsequent times after that I had no good excuse except I liked this scruffy bunch of nerfs and I took advantage of the time they were gone to convince Omega to try and help me clean the ship enough to get the godsawful smell down to a dull roar.

Honestly, an enclosed space inhabited only by males is bound to be bad. Add in the fact that none of them seemed to have the slightest idea of how to clean just made it ten times worse.

The first time Omega and I did it, we pretended like nothing had been done and watched covertly for reaction. Wrecker and Tech seemed oblivious but Echo took a couple of deep breaths, gave us both a nearly teary-eyed look of gratitude and walked by. Hunter kept deep breathing and looking confused but pleased.

After that, Echo found a reason for me to go on as many missions as he could manage. And I usually went because, well, because why not? This ragtag bunch had become as much family to me as I had ever had and the idea of something happening to them without me knowing about it was unbearable.

Which is what ended me up in my current predicament, i.e., freezing my shebs off on a Force forsaken planet in a bid to help Tech, who out of them all seemed to like me the least. It was just supposed to be a quick supply run for Cid. The others were recovering from some very bad street food which I had not been present for and Tech refused to eat anything from a street vendor. They had all shown up at my door in the mid evening that day with a pale and sweating Omega carried by Tech, the rest of them in not much better shape. After a quick med scan, I confirmed what Tech had already been telling them, that they all had a bad case of food poisoning. I could tell he was trying hard not to I told you so his miserable siblings but it was a near thing. I had him help me to get them all settled, with Hunter and Omega getting my bed and Echo on the sofa with Wrecker on a nest on the living room floor since he was way too big for the sofa or anywhere else. After administering some low dose antiemetics and making sure everyone had fluids and vomit containers, Tech went back to the Marauder to get Lola for Omega, who had asked so pitifully for the stuffy that I could almost visibly see Tech melt before patting her head and hurrying off after the requested item. Hunter then asked(begged) me to go with Tech since Cid was being her usual arse of a self and demanding a supply run job be run since ‘Tech was still fine wasn’t he’?

It seemed the Batch had a personal rule about no one ever being alone, especially on ops. I tried not to giggle at the thought of picking up a load of alcohol as an op even as Hunter hit me with his own version of baby aak eyes and I folded like a tent in the wind.

So, after making sure none of them were about to die whilst we were gone and after Tech’s obligatory arguing about why I didn’t have to go, he eventually gave in and off we went.

Then the hyperdrive, which Tech had said was fixed since an earlier trip where it had blew, turned out to not be as fixed as he thought and we had been lucky to be thrown out of hyperspace instead of blown to miniscule bits. It just sucked that we were thrown out with the only breathable atmosphere planet close enough for emergency landing being an icebox that probably classified as many species version of hell.

I know it was certainly contending heavily for mine.

After what Tech referred to as a “controlled crash landing” which was Tech code for the ship didn’t end up in a mile long debris field of component pieces, we unbuckled and got up to assess the damage. I was not the mechanic or techno whiz that Tech was but I had flown a ship thru the wars  and knew enough to tell what was what. We both began to check over the ship, me with the manual check and Tech checking diagnostics. It wasn’t until I heard him let loose a particularly vicious Huttese curse that I began to worry. When he said he needed to check outside I looked out the cockpit viewport to note it was snowing. He opened the ship to go out and assess the damage there and the burst of freezing air that whipped in and against us both was enough to steal my breath and cause an instant cascade of chills. The snow I had noted thru the viewport was coming down heavily. I looked at Tech and tapped his vambrace since he was already in his helmet. He turned to look at me.

“Are your blacks thermo-regulated for artic temps as well?”

“To a degree. The time before bodily damage occurs is relative to the ambient temperature. And the health of the wearer, of course.”

Of course.

“Set your timer then.” I told him. “If you’re not back in 20, I’m coming to find you.”

“That will not be necessary.”

“That’s correct, because you’re gonna be back in 15 so I don’t have to!” I yelled over the sound of the inrushing wind.

He stepped out and I closed up the ramp and set a timer on my comm. Then went into survival prep mode. I had no idea if long range comms were down or if this icy rock was inhabited. Figuring we would need to save as much power as possible, I started building a nest in the warmest interior part of the ship. Keeping warm would be of vital importance, as much as hydration and I knew this ship would get cold fast. I pulled the thin excuse for mattresses off the two racks and laid them together then gathered all the blankets and pillows I could find, even taking down the ones in Omega’s “room”. I pulled the med scanner and rations kits and extra hydration packs and placed them together in a pile near the makeshift nest.

I checked my timer and then sat down at the navigation console to wait.

The sad thing was, I knew we would probably have to huddle together to conserve body heat and any other time I would be thrilled at such a prospect. While he seemed to have a bit of a problem with me, I really liked Tech.

Like, really liked Tech.

He was everything I found attractive in a male. Terrifyingly brilliant, witty, funny, kind, caring. Not to mention just as deliciously gorgeous as all his brothers. There was just something about him that ticked all my boxes and even though probably any of the others would have been an easy win if I wanted to, of course my attention had to get fixed by the one out of the group that seemed to have some kind of allergy to me.

I had noticed his reticence around me and I had gone out of my way to engage him, thinking that maybe he was just shy and needed someone else to make the friendly overtures. After months of knowing them, I had come to know the others fairly well. However, getting Tech to talk with me had been difficult. I hit on asking him about things I heard him mention since he always seemed to have something to say but little opportunity to do so. Once he realized I was not teasing but sincere he could carry on about a topic in astonishing detail. Honestly, it was intimidating how much he seemed to know about just about anything you could ask. I loved listening to him enthusiastically talk about whatever the topic happened to be. It only took occasional questions to keep him going. And I would think we were making progress toward becoming friendly if not friends then he would back off again, shrinking back into himself and it would feel like starting all over again from the beginning.

I wasn’t sure what I was doing wrong. Sometimes I would see him looking at me, his expression unreadable before looking away. When I was with them on jobs, he would have that soft, almost smiling expression sometimes when Omega would ask me for stories while in hyperspace, cuddling up to me on a rack and falling asleep while I spoke. I wished I could figure out where I was wrong stepping but it would have to wait.

I checked my comm. It had been 25 minutes. Worried, I hurried to the ramp and opened it, just in time to see Tech stumble from under the ship and against the side of the ramp. Even though I was in no way dressed for it, I ran down the ramp, reaching to catch him as he stumbled again.

The cold was mind numbing.

Somehow, we made it back up the ramp and inside and I slammed my hand against the panel to seal the hatch. Tech fell to his knees. I scrambled down beside him and reached to pop the seal on his helmet before pulling it off. He was shaking so hard he couldn’t manage it.

His face was pale, his lips tinged blue. I swore loudly.

“Why didn’t you come in sooner?” I fumed as I worked to get him out of his armour.

“H-h-had t-to rep-pair long d-d-distance relay. B-boost c-c-comm signal. I c-can’t f-fix ship without p-parts.”

I was really worried at his disjointed and slurred speech. I managed to get him to the nest of blankets I had made on the floor and half pushed, half rolled his shaking form onto it. He curled into himself and I worried even more. I pulled off his gloves and unlatched and removed his boots, socks and vambraces, checking over his hands and feet as I went.

Damnit. Toes and fingers both showing signs of early frostbite, I cursed aloud once again. The stubborn kriffer. I bundled him in everything we had and grabbed the med scanner.

A quick head to toe scan showed me what I already knew.

He was hypothermic. I debated whether or not to strip him out of his blacks. They were crafted to keep the wearer’s body temperature regulated, yes. But they also appeared damp in the spots where they were not covered by armour. Erring on the side of caution, I began to run my hands over his body, trying to see if his blacks were wet or just appeared so.  I discovered they were actually wet in several spots and argued myself for a moment before gritting my teeth and tugging the items off him. Not an easy endeavor.

Of all the ways I had imagined getting him out of his clothes, this had not been one of them.

I had found one heating pack in the medical supplies and used it now. I started the thermal reaction and tucked it next to his hands as I began to take off my shoes. I had to use the biggest thermal heat producer I had available.

Which was me.

I crawled up next to his still shaking form. Unsure if he could hear me or not, I still told him what I was going to do.

“So, smart one, you’ve managed to give yourself a nice case of hypothermia. Since we are all out of sources of synthesized warmth right now, we’re gonna have to do this the old fashioned way.”

I apologized as I pulled the blankets back quickly and wrapped myself around him before tugging the blankets back into place. I laid my head against his icy cheek and spoke.

“I know I’m not exactly your favorite person but I’m all you got at the moment for a heater and I’m not about to let you freeze to death just cause you don’t like me.”

I hugged him close, trapping his hands with the warmer between us and rubbing my warmer feet gently against his to try and keep the circulation going. Toes he might could live without but I knew Tech would be lost if he lost any part of his hands. He buried his face into my neck, his breathy pants hot against my skin even as his skin was still much too cold. I rubbed my hands softly over his back, encouraging blood flow. I kept talking, telling him not to go to sleep, making him answer questions and using every method I could think of to keep his mind engaged enough to not slip into dangerous slumber. I knew as he warmed it would be harder.

It seemed forever before I felt his hard shakes begin to subside into softer shivers then occasional tremors. His body softened against mine, curving in more closely as he was able to instinctively seek the warmth he was too immobilized to be able to do earlier. I snaked a hand between us and felt gently along his hands and fingers, asking if he could feel here or if this tingled. His groggy answers eased some of my concern. I used my feet on his to perform more or less the same maneuver. He still had a few tingly spots on his feet but that was better than numb so I decided to leave it for the moment until I was sure his core temp was closer to where it should be and he was out of danger.  I was also now having to fight against my own adrenaline crash and subsequent shakes and sleepiness. Having his big, warm(ing) body wrapped around mine was not helping me win that battle. I wanted to drift off to sleep quite badly myself and it was only my still lingering fear for him that was helping me to fight it. I struggled on for a bit longer but when I felt myself jerk in that almost asleep but shouldn’t be reflex I knew I was losing the battle.

I wiggled an arm free and reached just above my head where I had, with way more forethought than I had thought myself capable of at the time, placed the med scanner. I turned it on and ran it awkwardly over what of him I could reach in my position. Thank the freggin Force it was showing him out of the danger zone. I laid it back over our heads and squirmed my arm back under the blanket again. Tech shifted against me and somehow, miraculously, managed to wrap even more of himself around me.

I was beginning to wonder if clones had some snake DNA in the mix.

I could feel his breathing edging into the deeper rhythms of sleep and decided it was safe to let him go.

For that matter, I decided it was safe to let me go as well and let the warmth we were now cocooned in work its magic.

I wasn’t sure how long I was out but waking up was deliciously disorienting. The first thing I noticed was being warm… very warm. The next thing I noticed was the spot where my head was resting was moving rhythmically up and down.

Something my pillow usually didn’t do.

I shifted a bit and realized I was shifting against something.

Make that someone.

My eyes shot open as the someone I was wrapped around, and who also happened to be wrapped around me, breathed deeper, body stretching as one does when slowly waking as the arms around me convulsively grew tighter and the hands began to languidly stroke over my back and my head, where one hand was buried. I tried not to move as I realized parts of me were extremely close to parts of him and I had one leg in a very strategic position.

It was very disturbing, to be simultaneously so very comfortable and relaxed and yet nervous and terror struck. Add in the fact that I had said someone running their hands over me like I was a pet tooka and my body and brain were stuck in a feedback loop of not knowing how to respond so I simply lay, frozen and unable to move a muscle.

“I do not dislike you, you know.”

What?

My mind was simply not making the necessary transition from sleeping to waking fast enough to follow.

I must have made some kind of sound because he continued.

“I do not dislike you at all. In fact,” he paused here and took a deep breath, a fact I could know for certain as my head was still resting on his shoulder, tucked in the space between the natural curve of his neck and chest. And boy, did he smell good.

“I… I like you very much.” This came out in a hurried rush.

That seemed to unlock me and I raised my head to look at him. I forgot I had pulled off his goggles and laid them to the side as well earlier and ended up practically nose to nose with a set of warm, golden brown eyes locked with mine.

Of the many times I had imagined confronting him and having a similar conversation as this and all the smart, logical, witty and cogent replies I had imagined myself having, alas my reality was immensely deficient and boiled down to a surprised sounding, “Y-you do?”

Reality was a bitch and vastly irritating and I would be having words with her later about the fact that I couldn’t seem to form necessary words at extremely important times.

But that was later since right now, I was hypnotized by watching the eyes that mine were locked with grow increasingly darker and that big, long-fingered and amazingly dexterous hand still on the back of my head press just enough that I finally clued in to what was happening, took the hint I hoped I was being presented with and leaned forward, pressing my lips to the ones just a breath away from my own.

Dear gods, he had amazing lips. Soft yet firm and perfect for the activity they were currently engaged in. I wasn’t sure which of us the soft moan I heard originated from but it definitely fit the mood. I had longed to taste him and now I was being handed my desire and I was not about to waste it. I slanted my mouth against his, pushing my body up just a bit so that I could glide the hand of the arm that had been wrapped around his torso up that chiseled chest and around his neck. I dug my fingers into the soft hair at the back of his head and there was no mistaking the moan that I heard this time was from him. He jerked me closer, a move which made the precariously positioned leg mentioned earlier slide hard against the hard thing it had been trying to avoid.

The effect was electric.

Tech gasped sharply, his hips jerking up hard against my traitorous leg, which seemed to have a mind of its own. I couldn’t resist the lust driven impulse to sensuously rub my leg over him, eliciting a sound I knew I would probably be hearing in some of my hotter fantasies from here on out. I slid said leg up and over his hip, causing me to groan as well as the shift in position allowed me to feel the hard, hot length of him against a very needy part of my anatomy. It caused me to curse quite fluently mentally at the fact I happened to still be wearing clothing. Even so, instinct still won and I couldn’t help my own hips from seeking friction against his. I felt his entire body shudder against mine and was gratified that this time, it had nothing to do with being cold.

He gasped my name against my lips as he continued to ravage them as our bodies moved against each other in increasing need. I wanted him so much I could barely string two thoughts together but the problem was I didn’t just want his body (which was smokin hot and definitely worth wanting). I wanted everything about him that had drawn me into this honey trap to begin with.

And I couldn’t just enjoy his body without making sure the rest was coming along for the ride as well.

I somehow found the willpower to dig deep and push him back for a moment. The look of confused dread on his face nearly caused me to stop with my intentions but my heart was, surprisingly, speaking louder than my hormones at the moment.

“Tech,” I panted, “I’m not gonna lie. I want you so bad right now I can barely think but I don’t want to do this if you are going to regret it later or if its going to make things weird between us,” I could feel my courage waning under the look he was leveling at me.

“I just… don’t want you to hate me later,” I hated how small and unsure my voice sounded at that last and turned my eyes from his, certain I had not only killed the mood but any burgeoning fondness he might have developed for me.

I felt one of those big hands I had somewhat of a fixation on gently cup my face and turn it back to his. It took him softly saying my name though before I could drag my gaze back to his.

“Mesh’la I must apologize for giving you a wrong impression. It seems in my attempt not to importune you with how I felt toward you, I have instead given you the opposite impression. I have never disliked you. In fact, from the moment we met when you shot me to now I have been impressed over and again with your courage, kindness, intelligence and beauty. I have never been good with expressing my feelings or reading those of others and I did not want to make you uncomfortable with me if all you felt toward me was friendliness. If that was all I could have then I was determined not to make it awkward. However,” a soft grin lit his face and hypnotized me with how excruciatingly handsome it made him, “I have recently come to suspect that you may feel more than just general friendliness for me. Would this be a correct assumption?” he asked, a bit cheekily I felt since we had all but been dry humping one another just a few moments ago.

I, however, managed to answer both succinctly and pertinently.

“Yes.” I said before dragging his head back down to mine and fastening my mouth to his.

His hands, clever things that they are, didn’t waste much time in divesting me of my clothing. My enthusiastic help probably was a boon as well. His eyes burned with appreciation as the last bit of my clothing was flung who knows where and all of me was visible. It was quite a stroke to my ego I had to admit to have a man as physically attractive as him admiring and desiring me. I considered myself quite average physically, neither fat nor skinny, a bit on the taller side but pretty much just your average, everyday female. I reached out, pulling him to me then pulling the blankets around us both.  The question on his face was easy to interpret.

“It’s too cold to waste good body heat.” I said with a smile and he grinned at my humor before I wrapped my arms around him once again. We both gasped and groaned at the sensation of being skin to skin. He hovered over me, a look of uncertainty on his face.

“I do not wish to crush you. I am a good deal heavier than you.”

I smiled up at him, “I’ll let you know if that becomes an issue. Right now, I can’t think of anything better than having your entire body pressed against mine.”

He answering smile lit up his face and made him look boyishly happy.

After that, there wasn’t much in the way of coherent noises, much less speech, for quite some time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It was nearly a full rotation later before his brothers, in a ship that looked as barely flight worthy as they did, barely recovered as they were. The ship was on loan from Cid with the understanding that someone besides her would be paying for its use but, it arrived with what we needed to fix the ship and get off that frozen rock.  I could tell Hunter immediately knew what was up as soon as he stepped on the ship and removed his helmet. He shot us both a Look before, surprisingly, a small grin then turned to help Wrecker who had called out from the bottom of the ramp. Tech and I swapped glances before moving to help, him warning them about the danger of the extreme temperatures and me to oversee the control panel as they hurried to make the needed repairs. Omega had been left back on Ord Mantell with orders to fleece as many of Cid’s clientele in dejarik as she wanted. A task I understood she set to with great glee.

As I sat relaying information and swapping quips and insults over comms to the group of men working to repair the ship, I smiled at the thought that this was my family now. A family I had never expected but one I could not imagine my life without now.

When I felt a pair of ice-cold hands slip down my shirt and cup my breasts as I shrieked only to hear Tech chuckle behind me. I grabbed his arms to pull him down to where I could kiss him properly, deciding perhaps the galaxy didn’t hate me as much as I had always thought.

The whistles and catcalls of his brothers behind us notwithstanding.

[zilodak]

Hey I was wondering if Maggie's injury/eyepatch was inspired by Anatoli Bugorski, the Soviet scientist who had a particle accelerator beam accidentally go through his head but survived? Their injuries are on the same side of the face, but Bugorski lost his hearing, not vision (tbh tho I'm kinda hoping...Maggie does in fact have some cool trick under there like, a fake eye made out of Uranium glass or smth). Anyway, I get hyped any time you post abt Sim Spring I can't wait for the comic!

She was inspired by him, yes! There will be instances in Sim Spring where I use real life incidents such as Bugorski's to explore how states and healthcare systems fail on people disabled or affected by nuclear incidents or inproper disposal of nuclear waste, and how often history forgets about them in a way (i hope) that respects victims in real life.

Bugorski is a better known case of a state completely failing to compensate and recognize victims of nuclear accidents. But there are many others such as him who don't get the publicity that he got because they are not considered "fascinating" enough, so many people lost to history, which i can only hope to shed some light upon. Downwinder towns, Indigenous people who were and are still being displaced, their rivers poisoned, their land irradiated, women (most notably WoC) working in plutonium production lines without any protective gear.

The very core of nuclear history centers around how states, governments and people in charge view human life as expendable for a greater imperial goal. And unfortunately, you cannot separate nuclear energy from its colonial and imperial roots.

If you read me rambling about this topic and want to know more about Anatoli Bugorski's incidents here are some links to get you started:

Kyle Hill

Wired Article

The article I quoted:

Toxic Workplaces, Nuclear Homes, and Irradiated Landscapes

[ssruis]

Ruikasa posting that got away from me (again). You guys can’t be mean to me pandemonium is on engsekai in like five days. don’t blame me blame colopale.

Ruikasa is very interesting for me 2 think abt wrt rui and his hang ups bc Rui is very single-minded in going after what interests him - he taught himself robotics/engineering/a million other things, he pursued directing on his own, he would rather stick to his own paths and do what he wants to do instead of do what would make him more palatable to his peers

Rui: I wouldn't be expending my energy on something I don't intend on doing.

Tsukasa: Yes. That's the kind of person you are. You wouldn't be doing something if you didn't really want to...

Rui: right?

(Wonder Halloween)

(Area dialogue)

I don’t feel like hunting down every instance of kids around him going “we don’t want to play with you because it’s dangerous/we think you’re weird” I think I’ve done that enough times. But my point with those instances is that he valued what he loved over attempting to become someone who would fit in.

Desiring to connect with a person beyond the level of just friendship/wanting to know way more about someone is different than studying & learning a subject though, bc it’s

1) typically a two way street in that it’s reliant on the other person to want to share things and want to connect with you in return

2) also reliant on you not fucking up the relationship, which is pretty easy to do if you come out guns blazing like “hey you fascinate me & I want to know what makes you tick. And also everything else about you.”

Both points being something rui has zero experience with. Which is also why I think he opted to ask other people about tsukasa instead of talking to him directly.

(Kaito initial 2*)

(Area conversation)

He’s still very curious about Whatever The Fuck is up with tsukasa tenma but he’s obviously pursuing knowledge a little less intensely/overtly than he does for other stuff

(After talking about movie directing techniques) Director Ohara: … Well, that might not be useful to you as someone who’s aiming to become a stage director.

Rui: …No.

Rui: I’d rather be taught more specific techniques.

Director Ohara: …Huh?

Rui: What I want to create is a show that everyone can enjoy regardless of any limits.

Rui: In order to make that dream come true, I want to learn about direction in all kinds of media.

Director Ohara: …Oh?

Rui: That’s why I want to absorb any ideas and ways of thinking from any field.

Rui: All of the methods you know — please teach them to me.

(Backlight lens flare - TL haruka’s penguin)

All of that to say Rui is very clearly interested in learning more about Tsukasa, but also (imo) very wary of overstepping any social boundaries that would damage their current relationship.

He mentions that he tended to rely on shows to connect to other people around him in Pandemonium -

Rui: I had always thought that I could never properly understand everyone around me.

Rui: As I started doing shows at Wonder Stage with everyone, my way of thinking and feelings began to change.

Rui: Now, I am able to understand and connect with someone without relying on shows, and I’ve come to value the beauty of laughing alongside others.

Rui: that’s why — tsukasa-kun. Thank you for giving me the chance to change.

(Pandemonium - TL tsukasa’s #3 fan)

- which is also the event where he & tsukasa connect more *outside* of shows, and the event that both he and tsukasa acknowledge as an event that made them grow a lot closer. (more recent connect live, wrt them talking abt performing fixer, iirc. I hate to “source: trust me” but we’ve reached my limit for hunting down sources & it’s finding a tweet from forever ago where someone translated what they were talking about)

Anyways. Sorry. I just love that quote & what it says about Rui. I’ll spare you the “directing as a one way street/settling for the closest thing to a connection/laughing *alongside* others instead of providing a show for the audience to laugh at (ensekai if you change that specific sentiment I’ll be so mad)” thoughts. Back to the original point.

It’s interesting to think about how rui’s hang ups wrt friendships and his very intense curiosity/very determined pursuit of knowledge on the subjects that interest him intersect. Like. Before this point, whenever he was interested in something he could just go online and read everything he needed to know and satisfy his curiosity to his heart’s content.

Having to both navigate something completely foreign and pump the brakes on obsessively learning everything he can would be a novel experience for Rui. To say the least. “If I pursue this with as much intensity as I do with any other endeavor I am going to fuck something up (he is suffering)” kind of situation.

Being interested in a *person* is so much different & so much trickier and scarier to navigate. Especially with how much Rui values his relationship to Tsukasa as someone Who Matches His Freak.

and with Rui’s whole “I should be satisfied with what I have and if I’m not then it’s because I’m greedy/selfish” :

Rui: (… Geez, I really lack a backbone. When will the time come when I find myself satisfied with the way things are?)

(…)

Rui: (While working to make my dream come true, together with everyone, I will make their dreams come true. A way to do that — let me think of one.)

Rui: (fufu, how greedy of me.)

(Curtain call - TL Arven Oven & tsukasa’s #3 fan)

(Talking abt wanting to keep doing shows with wxs and his actions in OHE) Rui: Now that I think about it, I’ve been pretty selfish.

(World link - TL haruka’s penguin)

I think Rui’s approach to it would be very “I’m asking for more when I already have a great friendship I’m The Most Selfish Person Alive & must never say anything” which, tbf, would be his reaction wrt having feelings for literally anyone, not just tsukasa. However. Since this is a ruikasa post. unfortunately. I will say that what would be exclusive to Tsukasa is “he’s already given me so much and I still want more… I’m The Most Selfish Person Alive & must never say anything.” Rui is dramatic like that.

[gretahayes]

2 or 95 for the angst/fluff prompts with platonic or romantic core four? xx

“Come cuddle.” & “Stay here tonight.” (Can't choose) + core four (romantic or platonic? Up to you)

Cassie sighs. "That...could have gone worse. I'm so so tired."

"Really? I can't tell," Kon snarks, mean-spirited instead of sarcastic.

Cassie glares at him. "Piss off."

"Kon, stop before she hits you," Tim warns under his breath. The fight was exhausting and set in Gotham of all places, which gives everyone but Tim the heebie-jeebies. It left them exhausted and irritable.

Kon sighs. "Sorry, Cass."

"'s okay," Cassie says, the anger draining out of her all at once. She's just tired. They all are. "We should probably start going home." She winces. "Not looking forward to it."

"Rob," Bart starts, "y'mind-?"

"Stay here tonight," Tim says. Cassie and Kon turn to him with twin confused looks.

"What?" Kon asks.

"A safehouse?" Bart asks. "Or your place."

Tim doesn't even have to think about it. "My place. C'mon."

—

Tim lets them into his Nest and they use the communal showers there; he only gets teased lightly for having comfortable clothes in exactly their sizes and styles.

They half-heartedly squabble over takeout for a few minutes, then end up getting a lot of everything, because Bart expended enough energy that he'd need it, and the rest of them were hungry too.

Stomachs full, they relocate to Tim's bed and talk, exhaustion keeping their tones quiet. Tim and Cassie try to go over the mission, just the two of them, but Bart and Kon prod at them until they switch to a lighter topic.

"Sleeping arrangements," Kon says, when Bart yawns for the eighth time in two minutes.

Bart stretches and climbs over Tim to burrow into Kon's side. "Alright. G'night."

"That's...not what I meant," Kon says, but Cassie's already shoving and pushing them around to a more comfortable position. Tim picks up the devices and books and various fidgets they'd been using to entertain themselves from the bed and where they'd fallen on the floor, and walks to his table to dump them on it and plug in what needs to be charged, then turn off the lights.

When Tim comes back to the bed, Cassie's still maneuvering their increasingly-more-uncooperative teammates with a single-minded focus. Tim snorts. "How's it going, Cassie?"

Cassie huffs and gives up, laying down on the end of the bed. Kon finds himself on the other end, Bart still tucked into his side. She pats the space beside her. "Tim, come cuddle with me, our friends are useless," she says, then drags him down and into her arms anyway.

Tim elbows her until he gets comfortable.

"You're so small," Cassie murmurs, and Tim feels insulted enough that he would have tried to move, if he didn't know he would have gotten hit for it. "Like a small, Bat-teddy bear."

"Teddy bat," Kon mutters.

Bart snorts. "Robin bat-bear."

"These are horrible," Tim says.

"Baby bear-bat," Cassie contributes.

Tim actually grins at that, which is his cue that tiredness has started affecting his brain. "Stop."

"Little bird-bear."

"Build-a-itty-bitty-ducky."

"Birdie-o-shop."

Tim sighs. He can't even find it in himself to be annoyed. Just horribly fond.

(ask game)

[swaglet]

hi i’m a mutual who’s like fighting hard to not relapse rn. i just moved out and like i just haven’t been eating bc i don’t have my mom to tell me to and my friends up here don’t know about my issues which im not sure they’d believe me bc im currently overweight anyways

anon don't do it do Not do it don't relapse. i'm sorry if all the posting about it lately has brought it to the front of ur mind. but seriously no amount of starving will ever achieve any type of feeling or body shape that will offer enough relief unfortunately. it will go on forever n it will slowly kill u im so serious. if i didnt starve myself i probably wouldnt have had to get my gallbladder removed because of the damage and could have just taken medicine that dissolved the stones, my heart probably would have been healthy and strong enough to withstand covid and i wouldnt have developed a hole in one of my valves from it. i was super healthy as a kid, i probably wouldnt have developed stomach issues or joint problems to the severity i have if i hadnt starved myself. im 22 turning 23 in a few months and all my doctors are like "youre just too young for all this to be going on! this sucks!" and when i retroactively mentioned the whole starving myself thing and being severely underweight for a long time they all were like oh thatll do it. chasing an underweight bmi and an ideal i couldnt fit all for nothing in the end, because it didnt even ever make me feel any better, it never made me feel relief, it never made me feel free from the situations i was in that i thought i could escape through the means of starvation, i never felt protected by it. i promise you it is so not worth it.

if i'm honest with you girl, in the long run, it doesn't matter that you're overweight. if it makes u feel any better and like ur not alone, i'm also currently overweight being in the 150s, and even though i really want to make some sort of comment about it, i'm not going to because it's just a neutral thing about my body. it's just the way my body is using the nutrients i'm putting in and reacting to the energy i'm expending right now, in addition to how it's reacting to my medications. whether or not i'm upset with myself or proud of myself at the moment, i have to accept that i'm just living my life rn and life will go on no matter how much i weigh, and my weight is just background information in the story of my life. if i want to change it, i can. if i want to not look the way i do right now, if i want to build more muscle and get rid of a little excess body fat, i can do that by slowly changing some things little by little. i can lift a pair of dumbells 10 times each morning and jog up and down the street, or even jog in place. i can make a smoothie with my protein and add some creatine to it and get into a routine of doing that every morning. even if i just do that, and only that, and nothing else, that's still a step towards changing the thing i don't like about myself as long as i do it consistently.... which is better than what i would have been doing when i was starving myself, because i'd starve for days and days and days and then eat enough for 3 grown men and feel so sick 24/7.

if being overweight concerns you enough, and you have access to a primary care physician that's affordable, you can always bring it up to them and talk to them about your concerns. it may not always bring about the best result, especially if you have a male doctor instead of a female one, but i recently mentioned this at my yearly checkup (about 8 months ago i was 130 pounds, and i put on 20ish pounds in the span of those 8 months and i can't tell if it's muscle or fat redistribution/gain from birth control or both so i thought i would bring it up) and he said all my blood tests look as normal as ever but that he'll monitor it with me while i get back to a normal workout schedule that doesn't aggravate my joint pain.

also, don't be too afraid to open up to your friends; if they don't believe you, then those may not be friends you want to have around in the first place anyway... but hopefully they do believe you. i wish u luck and i believe in u. when it's too hard for me to bring myself to eat something, i keep a mini fridge full of nutritious drinks in my room like Naked Rainbow Machines and Fairlife Strawberry Milk (With Protein) and other fuckass shit like chobani yogurt smoothies

thank u for reaching out to me and opening up... i'm proud of u nonnie u got this

[formosusiniquis]

WIP Weekend

I wasn't officially tagged by anyone this week, but I have got to get some work done this weekend so I'm jumping in!

The Rules:

In a reblog (or a new post w/ rules attached) post up to five (5) file names of your wips. Not titles, file names.

Post a snippet from one of them. Snippet must be words you wrote in the last 7 days. We’re posting progress here. If you haven’t made any, go make some and come back to post!

After you’ve posted, people can send you an ask with one of your file names. You must then write 3 sentences in that file. If the filename is one you can’t share from (for example, an event fic), write 3 sentences on it anyway, and then 3 more on another to share.

That’s it! You can invite others to join in, or just post. If you tag me in your post, I will send you an ask request!

The WIP:

Labyrinth AU (Steddie Bang)

And that's it, just the one it's the illusion of choice. Snippet and a tag list below the cut

She mutters something into the feathered crown of the bird that isn’t his. Something that sounds like it ends in ‘so fucking stupid’ but deciphering the what becomes a lot less important when she asks, “Do you want to see where he’ll be recuperating?”

“Yeah! Can I?” his fingers tap the desk in a rhythm he can’t place, nervous energy expending out of himself and into this weird liminal space. Dart had been a stray and Ma had saved Mews from the Walmart parking lot; they'd never adopted anything that hadn’t made its way to them first. He is his own third example that proves the Munson way.

Maybe all animal shelters were like this. Large empty lobbies with big desks that block off access to their single mysterious doors. Buildings that weren’t concerned with things like electricity bills, the air on high enough that it’s got every hair on Eddie’s body currently standing on end: goosebumps down his arms, the hair at the back of his neck is on end.

“Great,” she smiles. There’s something off putting about it, like the mouth that she’s got doesn’t fit right on her face. A grin cut out of a magazine and pasted on a different picture.

No pressure tags: @cauldronoflove, @augustjustice, @eriquin, @aparticularbandit, @lingeringmirth, @sevenmerrymagpies, @fuctacles, @adhdavinci + anyone else who is looking for an excuse to be productive