#do you people still have your mental faculties intact??

[yakourinka]

personal post

[songmingisthighs]

Lonely Breeze

group : ateez

pairing : poly!yungi × reader

genre : angst, hurt/comfort

wc : 3.1 k

tw : angst, poly relationship, heavy stuff maybe; relationship issues, psychological issues, mentions of blood (injury), mentions of anxiety, ngl I'm just rambling at this point so if this is not your thing, pls skip lol.

a/n : this is why i don't listen to anything produced by mingi. I'm textbook kubler-ross every single time and idk how to feel about it. and yea i wrote this in 2 hours

buy me coffee ?

It had been three days since you ran away.

Can it be counted as running away? You're a full-grown adult with intact mental faculties and 'running away' sounds rather juvenile.

Life had gotten too hard and you were overwhelmed. Despite having wonderful boyfriends like Yunho and Mingi, this time you truly didn't know what to do but you knew that you had to get out of there before you completely exploded.

To be honest, Yunho and Mingi were one of the reasons you had to run away.

It was nothing against them per se but you felt bad for having to always rely on them all the time.

The three of you met on the cusp of adulthood, at a dance academy workshop. The three of you didn't mean to join that joint workshop because each of you was from different area branches of the academy but you all just clicked. From then, you and they planned your lives together even down to which university you three will attend. But it wasn't until nearing the senior year that you three decided to pursue a romantic relationship. You still remembered it like it was yesterday. How you, Mingi, and Yunho join your other friends on a countryside trip to celebrate the end of the 6th semester only to find out that the cabin was at maxed capacity so you three had to rent a small, dusty place on your own. Little did you know, you, Yunho and Mingi had each planned separately to come clean about your feelings. You were the first to confess after having a particularly tiring clean-up session (just so you won't inhale the dust that had accumulated in the cabin), accidentally telling them how you could see the three of you in your 30s cleaning the apartment you will share together. You remembered the dread that washed down on you when Mingi asked what you meant. Like the reliable pillar he is, Yunho was the one who helped you calm yourself down and told you that he could see the same thing, how he felt the same way about you and Mingi. Then Mingi confessed his own feelings and from then on, you three were even more inseparable than you had ever been before.

While it surprised people that the three of you decided to commit to a relationship that was far from orthodox, no one was really fazed. Everyone who knew the three of you had at least assumed you three were sleeping together which was why no one approached either one of you romantically all through university.

Some called it fate, some called it dedication.

You believed in the former more than the latter.

But recently?

You feared that you had trapped them.

Maybe it was a quarter-life crisis but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought of your life. It wasn't like things were falling apart. On the contrary, the pieces of your life were finally falling into place; you were starting to really shine at work, and you were finally able to start saving whilst resolving some of your financial issues. Your relationship with your boyfriends was even at its peak, there was more love than the three of you ever needed and you three were beyond happy.

Then one day, one day a week ago, things crashed down on you.

You didn't know what it was, you didn't know what caused it, but you suddenly couldn't breathe. You remembered holding onto the bathroom sink while your body trembled, tears streaming down your face like a busted faucet and you couldn't move. The cool bathroom suddenly felt suffocating and the sound of your boyfriends laughing just on the other side of the door felt deafening. It took you a long while to break free from that state and you only managed to do so because Mingi had knocked on the bathroom door asking for you to let him in because he needed to use the bathroom. That night, you found yourself unable to sleep and even finding their presence too much for you to handle even after switching position with Mingi so you could be at the edge. You had slipped away and cried yourself to sleep on the couch, sobbing silently until fatigue took over.

That whole week you were distant until three days ago when you came home from work to see a note on the table from Yunho who let you know that they were out for a bit to get something special for you.

One second you were pouring yourself a glass of water to calm your trembling hands and the next, you were in a train with a duffle bag heading to the countryside, cradling your hand that had a gash and fresh dried blood.

When you arrived at the dark and lonely cabin, you finally broke down, wailing into the emptiness as you hugged yourself in the middle of the room.

Neither of them was aware of what happened.

Or so you thought.

The first person who noticed how distant you became was Yunho. He had sensed that something was wrong since that day in the bathroom. He could never forget the look on your face as you stepped out. Your usually lively eyes were empty and you didn't even react when Mingi pressed a kiss on your forehead. At first, he thought that you might have had a bad day and that you were just not in the mood but as the days passed, you seemed more silent and distant. Yunho wanted to ask what was wrong but he didn't want to make it seem like he was prying so he tried to let you know that he was there for you in different ways; soft touches, words of affirmation, little presents in the form of your favourite drink or plans of going on a trip. He wanted you to have all the space you needed.

Mingi on the other hand immediately jumped into worrying about you. Suddenly he kept texting about your whereabouts and your feelings. He had even asked if he should pick you up early from work and even showed that he was already in front of your building. Mingi knew what it felt like to be all alone stuck in a headspace and it had taken him so long and finally relent, letting you and Yunho pull him out and believing you two that you were there for him. So he wanted to repay all that especially since you were the one who gently washed his tear-stained face and slowly fed him until he regained his own strength. He remembered the pit and he didn't like the idea of you being there.

So when they were met with an empty apartment the day you left, they went into panic mode. The sight of a couple droplets of blood near the broken glass and your work bag thrown carelessly on the couch was enough to send them into a frenzy and sadly, they even turned on each other.

Yunho wanted to calm himself and Mingi down first because neither of them even knew what happened and where you had gone to while Mingi, pointing that out, stated that they both needed to catch you before you could even go far. Then they fought over the fact that they were fighting when they should be looking for you and it ended with Mingi leaving the apartment when Yunho ran into your shared room, trying to charge his phone to see if you had contacted either of them.

Essentially, the three of you were alone at that moment in time. Nothing made sense and none of you had any ways of getting an answer.

You were alone in the cabin, crying your eyes out about... Nothing. You felt stupid for feeling bad over your life that was going rather well and you felt bad for leaving your boyfriends without an explanation. It was simple, you could've simply grabbed the phone and texted either one of them to let them know... Something. You could tell them that you needed time alone. But do you really? You could tell them that you were sorry. But were you really? You could tell them that you were overwhelmed and that they were not making your situation any better by being so supportive. But were they really? You felt like you were not worthy to even send them a text because who the fuck were you to be acting like that and then asking for understanding?

Mingi was running around aimlessly with worry sitting deep in the pit of his stomach. He had gone to several of your friends' places, friends you trusted who wouldn't blab about your disappearance. He hated being in a state of not knowing because he felt helpless. He hated being helpless. Mingi was not a helpless person so he didn't want to be associated with the feeling. First things first, he had to find you. But where could you be? Why had he never taken the time to ask you places you wanted to go to, thinking that you had gone alone because he was too busy with himself. Seeds of doubt planted by the negativity of the situation started sprouting its ugliness. Was your leaving his fault? Was he too self-involved to not have taken the time to dedicate his attention to you once in a while? Was he taking too much of Yunho and your attention? His head hurts.

Yunho, in defeat, slumped against the bed you three shared. Your pillar, your rock finally broke down and with each sob, his mind found it even harder to make sense of things. All the decision in his life was made on a strong foundation, Yunho was a sure man, and he didn't regret the choices he made and the path he took. But was he too sure of himself this time? Out of the three of you, Yunho was always the tie-breaker because he makes his decisions carefully and with logic. He never found any reason to resent that part of him until you left. Did he miss something? Were there signs that you had needed a different kind of treatment? Had he gotten too overconfident this time? Had his so-called level-headedness cost him something important?

Whatever it was you hoped could happen or appear by running away alone never came. Each hour you spent trying to make sense of things or finding a way to calm yourself only made it clear that you were all alone.

Dark thoughts started plaguing your brain, skewing your happy memories into something that was far from reality. The memories you had of banding together into a trio with Yunho and Mingi turned into fear that maybe you had inserted yourself into their friendship. After all, they found themselves together first before you bumped into Yunho and told him how you were alone, effectively guilt-tripping him. The thought of how they have always had your back turned into anxiety that maybe you had leaned on them too much. You relied on them more than you should and now you were a burden to them. The things you told them, should you have told them? Especially the dark ones, the ones that stemmed from your bad mental state. Were you manipulating them without realizing it? Were your promises of the future even really promises? How could you be sure that it wasn't you pressuring your expectations to them?

It had been three days. Were you still alone because they thought you were better off alone? That they too, needed time away from you? Maybe you never needed your own space, maybe it was your subconscious telling you that you needed to give them space from you.

Loud bangs broke the train of thought and the more you came back to reality, the more you recognized the voices.

"Mingi?" you inhaled sharply, seeing the face of one of your lovers on the window as he banged the wall.

Thinking that you were hallucinating, you turned your head away and stood up. There was no way he could be there.

More bangs were heard and when you turned around again, you saw both Mingi who was now with Yunho staring at you from the window.

"(y/n), open up!" Yunho called out.

Normally, you would register his voice as is but your brain, in its unstable state, thought that he was demanding you to let him in. Mingi too, though he was only standing there looking at you, sending knocks on the window as he wanted to hold you once again, your brain took that as him glaring at you and being in fury.

Anxiety shot up and your head shook violently. "N-no..." you whimpered, bottom lip trembling as you took a step back only to trip on a carpet and fall.

The sight of you on the floor caused Mingi and Yunho to abandon all reasons and logic and all they wanted to do was to help you. They started banging and trying to pry the door open, needing to get inside to be there for you but all it did was send you into a deeper spiral without them realizing. Your body curled into a ball while they were yelling for you to open the door. The more you heard them, the worse you felt and before you knew it, you were yelling for them to leave you be, leave you alone, you didn't deserve them.

It wasn't until you started yelling at how you should have never burdened yourself on them that they stopped banging on the door. Their eyes welled with tears hearing the things, untrue things, you hurled at yourself. It hurt them to hear you think so low of yourself like that. You were everything to them, you were something so precious and special and to think that you believe they would be better without you, it was like a serrated knife had been plunged into their hearts multiple times.

"That's not true (y/n), please..." Mingi rested his forehead on the door as his eyes closed slowly, letting tears wet his cheeks, "Please let me in, I... We... (y/n), please," he whimpered.

Looking around, Yunho remembered that the owner of the cabin had told him about a spare key a long time ago. Thinking that it was worth a shot, Yunho was glad to see that there was still a key hidden under the cushion of the porch lounger.

You were too busy bawling to realize that Yunho had opened the door successfully which was a good thing because had you realized, you would have done something stupid like run out into the field in the cold January breeze.

Mingi tried to rush inside only for Yunho to stop him, holding onto his arm as he watched you cry with a broken heart.

"Yunho, wha-"

Wordlessly, Yunho pulled Mingi down to sit in the doorway while maintaining his gaze on you.

Though confused, Mingi followed along, sitting down and looking between Yunho and you.

"We should go in there. She needs us," Mingi said, voice cracking as he shook Yunho slightly, trying to convince him to go inside. He knew he could definitely go inside himself, but for some reason, he felt like he shouldn't.

For once, Yunho didn't give any explanation and just shook his head one more time. Soon, however, his hand took one of Mingi's and they sat there with you with hands linked, waiting for you to... Well, they weren't sure what they were waiting for but they were sure they would understand soon.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You must have passed out from crying because you remembered feeling cold and alone but the moment you came to again, you realized that this time, you were... Warm.

Sitting up, you noticed that the skies outside were dark and when you turned your body around, you saw Yunho and Mingi attending to the fireplace. The cabin was dark save for the illumination provided by the warm fire.

It took a bit of time for your eyes to adjust but when your eyes really focused, you noticed that Mingi was holding onto your favourite blanket that you forgot to bring. How did they even got inside?

For a moment, you only watched them do their thing, comfortably sitting in silence as if enjoying conversation done by the soft crackles of the fireplace.

Mingi felt something on the back of his neck and when he turned his body slightly, he saw that you were staring at him with puffy eyes. His instinct told him to run to you and envelop you in a hug and tell you how worried he was and how much he regretted things that he thought he did. But his better judgement stopped him from making a move forward. Instead, he cracked a gentle smile and ducked his head down, carefully opening your folded blanket as a silent invitation.

Your body moved automatically towards him and before you knew it, you were suddenly sat in between Mingi and Yunho.

While Mingi draped you with your blanket, Yunho made final adjustments on the firewood before he sat down close to you and even moved so that you and he were shoulder-to-shoulder.

You were sure that they were going to ask what happened, what was wrong with you, why you ran away. But minutes passed and all there was was... Silence. You were sure that when you saw them again you'd be anxious because you had to explain yourself but all you felt was a sense of calm. It was rather ridiculous but you could feel the anxiety melting off of your body.

"I'm tired," finally you opened up even though your voice cracked due to how hoarse your throat felt. "I'm so tired," you exhaled as you closed your eyes, your bottom lip trembling once again.

This time, Yunho moved to sidle even closer to you so he could guide your head gently to rest on his chest. "You... Can you find it in your heart... To rest in mine?" Yunho spoke up finally, voice cracking as well. Mingi then moved closer until he was able to wrap his hands around your waist whilst leaning his head on Yunho's strong shoulder, effectively caging you securely between them. "You can rest in our hearts, love," he added, ducking to press a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

Nothing else needed to be said because nothing else should. The three of you had been through so much together in your youth that it felt like you were all alone. But, with the stars as your witness and the fire as your companion, you realized something that was always true. Even lonely, you were always together and your inadequacies made you whole. While pain exists and will always find its way back to remind you of your faults, it allows you to remember who and what you are, but most importantly, what you now have from that.

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17 @kpoplover718 @haatohwa @x-bluee @erinaimeexx @blackb3ll @mingiholic @angelicyeo @vampcharxter @meowmeowminnie @marvelous-llama @kawennote09 @hongjoong-lovebot @stopeatread

[inkdemonapologist]

AUGH ITS BEEN SO LONG SINCE A SAM HAS BEEN SILLY TIMED!! But your most recent Prophet and Sammy piece reminded me- how does Prophet feel about being called out to handle the situations Sammy can’t? Does Sammy force him out or does the Prophet kinda understand what’s going on and automatically take over? I just have So Many Emotions about Prophet and I love me some good angst flavored soup to rev up the headcanon brain

Oh man, Prophet’s perspective can be a lil tricky to describe; let me go on a bit of a tangent –

Imagine you’re living your life and then SUDDENLY REMEMBER that you have a job, that it actually matters a LOT to you on a personal level, that it has kind of a deadline and you haven’t been going in to work at ALL. You scramble to take care of as much as you can, but you start to realise that in a short amount of time, you’ll forget about your job again, until something happens to jog your memory. This goes back and forth a few times, until eventually, while your memories are gone, you write a letter to… yourself, trying to understand why you keep running off and doing these incomprehensible things as if you have a job??? And then, you find something that’s jogged your memory before, and you jog your own memory. Once you have all your memories again, you realise written reminders are a great idea, so you start leaving yourself notes for after the amnesia kicks in. You have a job!! Don’t forget your job!!! But the frustrating thing you discover is that while your memory is lapsed, not only do you forget your job, you can’t even seem to get it through your own head that it’s important. Your amnesiac self has a completely different set of priorities to you and doesn’t want to do the job. Your amnesiac self CAN’T remember. Your amnesiac self starts to treat you like a different person, the one who can remember. When you jog your own memories, you aren’t trying to remember – in that altered mindset, your amnesiac self is trying to wake you up, the person with the memories, and hand tasks off to you because they don’t know how to do them. And with your amnesiac self having this unbreakable barrier to remembering, it… DOES feel like they’re a separate person, honestly, like you’re just remembering this other person’s memories as they make choices you don’t want to make. But, if you can figure out how to get them to remember your job, and how important it is, then that wall between your memories would dissolve, then you could finally function normally again.

This has been the Prophet’s experience. Until Sammy started really pushing the idea that they’re separate people, he didn’t even parse it as being called out to handle things because, in the Prophet’s perception, he’s still the same person, just with all his memories and faculties now intact. Even when he started to see “The Shepherd” as a separate person with very different emotional responses, that person was still a part of himself – a fear in part of his mind that’s keeping him split in two.

More recently, they started switching briefly every time Sammy’s mental stability took a serious hit, which the Prophet has described to the others as a moment when “the Shepherd steps back,” and seems to understand that he’s being reached out to because the Shepherd can’t deal with something. So far, he's willingly stepping forward, and he WANTS to be able to step in and make sure his Lord's will is followed. In Prophet’s eyes, this is GREAT, ACTUALLY – he's encouraged to have that kind of trust from the Shepherd, because eventually he wants the Shepherd to be willing to try to remember his encounter with the Masked Messenger, so they can be one person again. He sees it as the first baby step towards the Shepherd learning to overcome his fear and trust the Masked Messenger again.

Which isn’t to say it’s not hard on him, but the thing is that most of Prophet’s misgivings and fears are buried under a lot of layers and displacement.  Like, being dragged by the Lurker into the Starpools to drown was a terrifying, traumatic experience that still haunts him, but it’s Joey he blames for killing him by bringing him unwittingly into dangerous territory. In spite of being so messed up over what happened to him that he’s STILL mad at Joey about it, the Prophet refers to the Starpools as his Home, believes he was granted a great gift and that he should be grateful to the Lurker for giving him the chance to receive it – beliefs which are so at odds that they should be really difficult to hold simultaneously. The Prophet has briefly admitted that receiving his visions is physically and mentally harrowing (“We hold our Lord's glory in this fragile body 'til it trembles, to snatch a fragment of a warning, a vision”), and he is not really receiving a specific vision so much as being subjected to an overwhelming flood of insight and struggling to grasp pieces of meaning out of the torrent – but he refuses to fear the visions, the one (terrifying) contact he has with his Lord, and instead gleefully thanks the Messenger for honouring him in this way and only resents when others complain that the visions are vague and that the Prophet should’ve calmly written them on paper. And when the Prophet fails at a task he’s been called to – tasks he is tremendously, comically ill-suited for – he can’t insist it was too hard; he can’t even blame the others, because he was supposed to be able to overcome them. Failure reflects ultimately only on him, in the face of a deity whom he believes has shown him unjustified grace.

Prophet is happy to take over for the Shepherd when he can, because he thinks he SHOULD be able to handle everything that this frightened piece of him can’t. After all, he has to make up for the Shepherd’s doubt. If he can be strong enough, and never fail his Lord again, maybe he can drag them both to salvation on his own good graces.

[hatterstan-shameblog]

💫✨💕send this to ten bloggers you think are wonderful. keep the game going 💕✨

Have a nice day/night/dance battle with the peacocks! :D

Alright, since you are a) very cool and fun and b) you took the time to send such a lovely message, I’m going to give you a part of a fic series I started many moons ago and abandoned for other things

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Hatter Has Definitely Kissed Every Executive At Least Once And This Is How It Went:  Ann Edition 

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Rating: PG-13

Tags: Alcohol, shenanigans, everyone’s cutting loose, mild reluctance (but these people don’t turn down dares so y’know)

Summary: As a “team building” exercise, all of the Executives have met for a little get-together; and with alcohol and a rousing game of “truth or dare” involved, what could possibly go wrong?

“Ann,” Chisiya says, “truth or dare?”

Ann sighs.  Her red-lacquered fingernails tap rhythmically against the green of a beer bottle, the glassy sound barely audible above the chatting of the half-drunk executives.

“I already told you, I’m not playing.”

“The fuck you aren’t,” Niragi snaps, grip on his rifle tightening as he downs another shot of vodka, “no skips, that’s the rule.”

“If I had to do it, you have to do it,” Keiichi offers mournfully, taking a sad sip of bourbon from a crystal-cut glass, “it’s only fair.”

Ann turns her attention towards Hatter.  He’s taking a healthy swig from—ew, is that a bottle of peppermint schnapps?  She wrinkles her nose in disgust as he raises his eyebrows in a suggestive arch.

“This is a terrible idea,” she tells him for the fourth time in the last hour, “and you should feel bad for making us do this.”

“Ann.  Sweet, darling,” Hatter takes note of her unimpressed grimace, “angry Ann.  This is all an exercise in trust.  A way for all of us executives to bond.”

“And because he loves the drama,” Aguni adds.

“I really do,” Hatter says wistfully, “So, come on.  One round and then you can go back to summoning demons or whatever you do in your little basement crypt.”

Ann sighs.  Everyone is looking at her with expectant eyes.  She finishes the rest of her beer and puts the empty bottle on the table.

“Fine,” she says, “One round, and then I’m leaving.”

“The ice queen giveth in,” Chisiya says, the corners of his mouth turning up onto a mischievous grin, “So, pick your poison.  Truth...or dare?”

“Dare,” Ann says coolly, and the room erupts.  Even Last Boss, who had been lurking in the corner until now, gasps.  In a rare show of camaraderie, Niragi slaps Chisiya on the back and tells him to ‘give that bitch a good one.’

Imbeciles.  All of them.

“Everyone gather ‘round the table,” Chisiya purrs—yes, purrs—as he looks her with a twinkle in his eye, “because this particular date involves each and every one of you.”

“Even me?” asks Last Boss.

“But of course,” Chisiya says, “we need everyone if we’re going to play...spin the bottle.”

Ann feels the blood drain from her face.  Oh, this little blond twerp is despicable.  He is evil and terrible and—

“No re-spins.  No backing out.  The kiss must last a minimum of five seconds, but it can go longer if you feel so inclined.”

“I won’t,” Ann answers curtly.  There is not a person in this room she could ever want to kiss.  (Except for Mira, but.  Well.  That’s a thought for another day.)

“I don’t know,” Niragi says with an exaggerated flick of his tongue, the silver piercing winking at her in a supposedly seductive manner, “once you get a taste of a real man, you might find yourself hooked.”

“Perhaps Niragi wouldn’t be so bad,” Mira muses with a serene smile, “his oral fixation is off-putting on the best of days, but it might translate well to a more intimate experience.  That is, until he starts talking again.  Then it’ll be terrible.”

Niragi’s face twists into a sharp scowl as he tries to sputter a comeback; drunkenness and embarrassment have apparently robbed him of his mental faculties, so he crosses his arms over his chest and pouts.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” Ann says with a huff.  

She places her empty beer bottle, label-side down, on the long wooden table.  For the first time this evening, everyone is silent.  Honestly, it’s kind of nice—it would be better if she didn’t have to end up kissing one of them, but, beggars can’t be choosers.

“You know,” Ann says, “there is a possibility it could land on me.  Does that mean I don’t have to kiss anyone?”

“That means you get to choose,” Chisiya says, “which...well, that will most certainly add some spice to the night, wouldn’t it?”

“Very evil,” Aguni concludes with a nod, “I like it.”

Hm.  Well, it was worth a shot.  

With one final, annoyed sigh, Ann places her hand on the bottle and gives it a powerful spin.  Maybe it’ll spin right off the table and shatter on the floor.  She wouldn’t have to do anything weird, and then she could just go back to her room and take a long bath.  Alone.  The way the universe intended.

It’s impossible not to watch the bottle spin, light refracting off the glass and casting flickering spots of light around the room.  It’s just a kiss.  She’s kissed people before.  Many people.  At least two.  

Friends kiss each other all the time.  Not her friends, but other people and their friends.  And these people aren’t really ‘friends,’ but they’re...acquaintances.  Colleagues.  Does that make it better or worse?

It’s slowing down now.  With each passing second, her fate is being decided by the neck of the bottle.  Mira, Last Boss, Keiichi—oh, God, please don’t let it be Keiichi, they have a meeting in the morning, that would be so awkward...

But, luckily, the bottle does not land on Keiichi.  It does not land on Niragi, nor does it land on Chisiya.  Last Boss has also been spared, as have Aguni and Mira.  That leaves only one candidate...

“Oh, Ann,” Hatter says, clapping his hands together and looking entirely too pleased with this very strange turn of events, “I always knew there was something between us!”

The thing he’s talking about is tolerance—she tolerates him because it is both sensible and beneficial to be on his good side.  He also, surprisingly enough, defers to her expertise on certain matters, which is more than can be said for her previous employers.  They are friendly, certainly, but most certainly not friends.  

And...lovers?  

Out of the question.

But Fate (and a smug little blonde) have decided that they share a moment of passion. Could she have spun worse?  Yes.  Could she have spun better?  Absolutely.  100%.  Without a doubt.

But Ann is a woman of integrity.  When she commits, she commits.  And so, as she walks to the other side of the table, she keeps her spine straight and her head held high.  She refuses to let these people see her falter.

“In addition to the parameters already given, I’d like to establish some rules of my own,” she says coolly, barely resisting the temptation to roll her eyes when he takes another gulp of alcohol.  Yep, that’s definitely peppermint schnapps he has—she can tell by the stench of it, the way it’s sharpness burns at her eyes.

She’s always hated peppermint schnapps.

“Fine, fine,” Hatter says with a wave of his hand, “as long as you promise not to fall completely in love with me in the process.”

That gets a laugh from everyone—and even Ann considers cracking a smile at the thought of someone like her ever feeling something for someone like him.  

“No tongue.  No teeth.  And,” Ann tell him firmly, “if you want to leave this room with your balls intact, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.”

The group ooh’s at that.  Ann doesn’t look at them.  She keeps her gaze focused on the man in front of her, watching him intently for any signs of weakness.

All she gets is a smirk.

“I would expect nothing less of you, Ann,” he replies, “however, you’re more than welcome to put your hands anywhere on my person.”

He leans in slightly, almost as if he’s letting her in on a secret.

“I could even give you a few suggestions, if you like.”

What a perfectly hideous thing for him to say.  It doesn’t help that he’s fluttering his eyelashes at her like some kind of lovestruck cartoon character.  

It’s annoying.

He’s annoying.

With a roll of her eyes, Ann grabs Takeru by the silk of his obnoxious robe and crashes her mouth against his-- because she’ll be damned if he’s the one kissing her.  

Five...

The group gasps-- Takeru included, the noise muffled by the seal of their lips as she kisses him fully and firmly.

Four...

And it’s...not as gross as it could be, but it’s still a very odd experience.  His lips are soft enough, and his beard-moustache-whatever-the-fuck is scratchy in a way that is.  Well, it’s interesting.  Not good, but...interesting.

Three...

“This is fucking weird,” Niragi shouts, sounding very disgusted.

Two...

“It’s like watching my parents,” Last Boss adds, “when they were still trying to convince my sister and I they were still in love and weren’t going to get a divorce.”

One...

And done.

“Okay,” Ann says flatly as she pulls away and swallows a grimace at the sight of her favorite shade of lipstick on Takeru’s lips (and is actually a very nice compliment to his skin tone, frustratingly enough) “Can I go now.” 

For good measure, she releases his robe with a disdainful flick of her fingers and subtly brushes her hands off on her shorts.  It’s not enough to get the scent of peppermint schnapps and awkwardness off of her skin, but it can’t hurt.

“A deal’s a deal,” Chisiya concedes, his eternally mischievous smirk stretched across his cheeks, “And I must say, I didn’t expect you to fulfill your end of the bargain so...enthusiastically.”

“That’s because nobody can resist me,” Takeru gloats, bottle of alcohol back in his grip as if it had never truly left, “It’s not her fault I’m so delectable--”

“Detestable,” Ann corrects under her breath.

“--And, even though you’ll try to deny it,” Takeru continues, disregarding her comment, “both of us know that there’s a part of you that liked kissing me.”

“I liked the part when she stopped,” Mira chirps cheerfully, “In fact, I think we all did!”

“You have no idea,” Aguni murmurs solemnly into his drink, his eyes darting towards Takeru with an unimpressed look.  That’s...hm, there’s clearly some kind of story there, although Ann isn’t sure she wants to know about it. 

Everyone begins talking amongst themselves once again-- Niragi has offered to spin the bottle next, and there’s a small argument breaking out over whether or not the group should continue with their original game of ‘truth or dare�� or pivot to this new one. 

And, Ann?

Ann doesn’t stick around to find out. 

[sinditia]

Starker Fic - You're The One That I Want - Part 3/9

SUMMER BINGO FESTIVAL 2021

Fill: Secret Relationship

Summary: It becomes a thing behind closed doors, but not so much in public. As far as everyone knows Tony and Peter are colleagues and close friends. And they're having a lot of fun together. Why change up a good thing?

Rating: Mature (for this chapter. Other chapters in the fic are explicit)

Continued from:

Part 1 - Road Trip

Part 2 - Just the Tip

--

Peter wakes up feeling comfortable. Too comfortable.

His eyes snap open and he instantly goes into panic mode. He can’t even blame it on the alcohol this time because he was stone cold sober when he climbed into Tony’s bed the previous night, had all his mental faculties intact when he rubbed his ass all up on Tony’s dick, begged the man to stick it in him like a mindless whore.

“Fuuuucckkkk,” Peter mouthed silently into the quiet morning, burning with equal parts embarrassment and arousal at the memory of having sex once again with his best friend.

Said best friend still has his arm around Peter too, holding him almost casually as he slumbers on, unaware of Peter’s impending panic attack.

Peter tries to slip out of the older man’s embrace without waking him. But as soon as he starts moving, Tony’s hold tightens around his stomach.

“You’re gonna sneak off again?” Tony’s voice is sleep raspy and a little muffled from his pillow.

“Where could I possibly sneak off to?” Peter turns to look at Tony. The man is squinting up at him, brows furrowed, an odd sort of tension along his neck like he’s been clenching his jaws. It’s probably a little too early in the day for him.

Tony sighs heavily and rolls over to his other side, back towards Peter, who barely hears him mutter, “well that’s something every man wants to hear in the morning after.”

Peter stares at him. “Are you always this chipper after you get laid? Like, I’m sorry to disappoint but we can’t all be Natalie from legal- hey!”

In one swift movement, Tony rolls back over and pins Peter flat on his back, hovering over him on his elbows.

Peter’s heart catches in his throat at the proximity of Tony’s face to his. Up this close he can see each individual hair on Tony’s lower lash line, framing those big Bambi eyes shining a rich, deep brown in the morning light. Tony’s looking at him like he’s trying to read Peter’s mind, searching his face for … something. Peter doesn’t know.

“What?” Peter says, feeling his cheeks flush at the scrutiny.

“Why were you trying to run away?” Tony asks.

“I wasn’t.”

“You were leaving.”

Peter scowls. “I was just getting up. People do that in the morning, you know. Get up out of bed.”

“What, you got plans or something?”

Peter closes his eyes with a heavy sigh, feeling like he would burst into actual flames if he keeps staring into Tony’s gorgeous, soulful eyes. He could probably wrestle Tony off him, get the older man to stop hovering over him like that. But the truth is, Tony’s weight on his body feels so perfect, the shape of him slotting so naturally against his. It feels absurd to fight it.

Peter makes a small noise when he feels lips at his throat. Tony’s kisses are warm and stubbly, spreading heat not just on the sensitive skin of his neck, but also through the rest of his body, pooling low in his stomach. Peter twines his arms around Tony’s broad shoulders, sinking his fingers into his grey-specked dark hair.

“That feels nice,” Peter sighs. He relaxes as Tony trails the kisses up his jaw, nipping and nuzzling at his cheeks. Tony’s hands are all over his body, smoothing down his chest and stomach. “Okay, fine. I could be convinced to stay in bed for the entire weekend if you keep doing that.”

Tony pulls back to look at him. “The entire weekend?”

“We’ll do your whole award ceremony thing, don’t worry,” Peter waves a hand dismissively, “but that won’t take too long.”

Tony kisses him, deep and enthusiastic. Peter hums into it, legs falling open to allow their hips to slot together. He grinds up against Tony’s hard-on but the older man pulls away.

“Later,” Tony says, grinning. He kisses his way down Peter’s body, stopping briefly to nip and lick at his nipples which elicited a sharp cry from the younger man. Peter lets out a full on moan when Tony licks a stripe up his cock.

“Okay yeah, I’m so on board with this,” Peter gasps, back arching when Tony takes his entire cock into his mouth.

--

Peter scrunches his nose as he eyes his reflection critically. The Peter that’s standing in the mirror is wearing a dark grey Ermenegildo Zegna suit – ready-made since his presence in this whole event is a last minute whim of Tony’s and they don’t have time to prepare something bespoke.

Tony has already picked up his tailored three-piece from Gucci. He had a tiny bit of a conniption when the brand didn’t have anything in Peter’s size that complements his own outfit. “You can’t be wearing brown when I’m wearing grey, Peter!”. He has since dragged the younger man to Armani, Fendi, Bottega Veneta, looking at and trying on countless suits that frankly, all look pretty much the same to Peter, until they finally found something that Tony liked.

Peter is starting to feel like Tony’s very own personal Ken doll but there’s an incredibly shallow part of him that kind of likes it. Peter doesn’t usually see this side of Tony when they’re slumming it in the workshop, dressed in t-shirts and jeans with grease up to their elbows. But here in Sin City, everywhere they go, every luxury retailer they step into, the Tony Stark everyone sees is first and foremost the powerful billionaire, the man who could buy everything in any place he visits, the man who can and will get anything he wants. And Peter is with him.

“Looking good princess.” Tony barges into the dressing room brandishing a pair of cufflinks. “Okay so now all we need are shoes. What do you think? Louboutin? Or Balmain? We’ll need to go to another mall for that one. But I think if we-”

“Don’t they sell shoes here?” Peter interrupts.

“You wanna get shoes from here?” Tony asks, scandalized.

Peter shrugs. “Why not? Come on, the quicker we’re done with all this shopping, the quicker we can go hang out at the pool with some mojitos.”

“‘Mojitos by the pool’?” Tony snorts. “What are you, a middle-aged Arizona divorcee?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Fine, the quicker we’re done here, the quicker we can try doing it in the hot tub with the view of the city.”

Tony pretends to consider this for a few seconds. “Well noted. I think I saw some brogues out there that’ll go well with all this.” He exits the dressing room to return to the main store. “You’re a size 11, right?” he calls out as he walks away.

--

Peter isn’t usually one to pay too much attention to how people perceive him. But he can’t help but feel curious about how it looks from the outside, the way he trails after Tony as the man spends thousands of dollars on him for a single night’s outfit.

Behind closed doors, they’re all over each other. But in public, Tony doesn’t leer at him, nor does Peter simper and cling all over him the way all the rich old men and their young, beautiful sugar babies that they see hanging around Vegas do. Tony doesn’t hold his hand and Peter doesn’t give him cheek kisses the way affectionate couples do.

So what does Peter look like when he’s out with Tony like this?

--

The Apogee award ceremony is being held at Caesars Palace that year, a gaudy-looking venue surrounded by gold-lined dark velvet drapes in between ivory Corinthian-style pillars.

They’re more than slightly late. Peter had tried to get Tony dressed and ready in a timely manner but there had been some very compelling arguments made against the contrary such as investigating whether the baby grand piano in their suite would hold up the weight of two grown men having sex on it for instance (Tony, an experienced engineer, correctly predicted that it would).

The event is well underway when they arrive at the venue, and the uniformed organizer who greets them practically sags with relief at the sight of them. They barely got to take a sip of the offered glasses of wine before Tony is being ushered on stage to receive his award and deliver an inspiring speech.

Peter feels a little awkward left alone, nursing his wine in the corner of the expansive room while the biggest names in the tech industry mingle in clusters and occasionally clapping and laughing at the charming things Tony is saying under the stage lights. Peter smiles as he watches him, though. The man is literally born for this. A handsome, clever, and charismatic face of the company, he has the whole audience eating out of the palm of his hand.

“Can you believe this guy?” A voice scoffs in Peter’s ear.

Peter looks up to see a man standing next to him, shaking his head scornfully as he watches Tony on stage. He looks to be a bit younger than Tony, probably mid-thirties, with dark, slicked back brown hair and a short boxed beard. Peter probably would have found him handsome if it weren’t for the look of clear disdain in those cold blue eyes.

The smile the man throws Peter’s way is congenial though, slightly long-suffering and a bit too familiar, as if they’re sharing an inside joke in mocking Tony.

Peter frowns.

The man leans closer to him. “What’s your name?”

“Peter,” he answers somewhat reluctantly.

“I’m Quentin. But people usually call me Beck. I’m from C.T.E.” He says it like he expects Peter to suddenly change his demeanour and fawn over him for it.

When Peter doesn’t say anything, Beck’s smile grows smarmy, probably thinking that he’s found himself an airhead who’s only there for decoration and knows nothing about the industry.

Beck smirks. “That’s Cross Te-”

“Cross Tech Enterprises, I know,” Peter says curtly. “How’s Darren? Last I heard he had some health problems.”

Beck looks taken aback at the way Peter refers to the C.T.E. CEO with first-name familiarity but quickly composes himself. “Uh, yeah. He’s still in recovery. But his son is here. He just went out for-”

“-a game of roulettes, right? Oh man, I knew that was Auggie I saw out there on the tables giving Caesar all his money.” Tony materializes at Peter’s side and throws one arm around him while his other hand brandishes the shiny, translucent trophy he just received. “Perks of not getting one of these, I guess. You get to actually have fun in one of these shindigs, eh,” Tony makes a big show of peering to read Beck’s nametag, “Quentin?”

“It’s Beck.” The man is glaring daggers at Tony, particularly at the way the other man’s hand is gripping hard around Peter’s shoulder.

Tony appears not to notice all the tension, grinning widely at Peter. “I see you’ve met my best engineer.”

Beck blinks. “Yourengineer? You mean at Stark Industries?”

“Yep! You’re talking to the top dog here.” Tony claps Peter on the back. He continues to ramble on about research innovation and company value stock while Peter just smiles amiably between them.

After a while, a woman walks up to them and taps Beck on the shoulder, putting him out of his misery. “Mr. Cross is looking for you,” she tells him, and they both take their leave.

Once they’re out of sight, Peter squirms out of Tony’s hold and smacks the older man’s arm irritably. “Oww!” Peter protests, rotating the shoulder that had Tony’s death grip on it. “Were you trying to draw blood or something?! You paid good money for this suit.”

Tony laughs and catches Peter’s wrist when the younger man tries to hit him again. Peter’s other arm shoots forward to poke Tony in the stomach, which he unsuccessfully dodges with a yelp.

“Excuse me, Mr. Stark?”

With one hand still digging at Tony’s belly while the other is held above his head secure in Tony’s hold, Peter turns to see a beautiful blonde woman in a smart-looking black dress, eyeing them with amusement.

“Congratulations on the Apogee award. Well-deserved.” The way she’s smirking indicates that she doesn’t really mean it. She has a handheld audio recorder that she holds up between them. “Christine Everhart, Vanity Fair magazine. Care to give us a soundbite on your most recent accolade and your thoughts on the future of the tech industry?”

Tony’s smile is a thousand watts bright as he checks her out. “Everhart, huh? I remember the spread you did on Pepper a few months back. Very spicy. I would’ve thought you Brown girls would stick together. Women uplifting women and all that.”

“Feminism doesn’t preclude valid criticisms of questionable business models, Mr. Stark,” Christine retorts, venom in the curl of her dark red lips. She raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “If you have some time, I could do a pretty comprehensive spread on you too.”

Tony matches her challenging smirk with one of his own, the one Peter has seen in action way too many times. “Hmm, there’s quite a lot of me to cover and I’m only here for the weekend.”

Peter clenches his jaw. Of course people would be throwing themselves at Tony. They always have. There’s a part of him that wants to publicly lay claim to the older man - he’sTony’s plus-one after all, the one he personally invited to the event, the one who woke up in his bed just this morning, the one he spent the entire day with, his best friend. But admittedly, none of those things actually mean exclusivity, emotionally or physically, and it makes the small bit of wine he had that night turn sour in his stomach.

“You’ll just have to satisfy yourself with a soundbite then,” Tony continues. He returns his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “The future of the tech industry is right here. Bright young minds with fresh eyes and sharp instincts. Consider this an exclusive scoop. Peter Parker. Remember that name. He’s going to be the next one getting one of these things,” he gestures towards the trophy he’s still holding, “mark my words.” He winks at her.

Christine’s eyes slide over to Peter and he meets her gaze defiantly. There’s nothing in her expression that suggests derision or disbelief that someone like Peter could be in a position that’s highly commended by Tony Stark himself. Nothing like the way Beck had looked at him. But there’s still something disconcerting in the way Christine’s smile grows shark-like at Peter, like she’s spotted her next juicy story.

Before she can say anything more, however, Tony waves her a hearty goodbye and drags Peter out of there, leaving her to watch them exit the venue.

“Man, that was tedious,” Tony complains as they stride down the grand hallways towards the lobby. The place is crowded, the bars and casinos they pass are packed with revellers enjoying a Saturday night. “Wanna go catch a show or something? Or if you wanna gamble, let's go to the Venetian instead. I don’t wanna run into anyone I know here.”

“Did you ever sleep with her?” Peter wonders instead of answering.

Tony chuckles. “Who, Everhart? Nah. Not for lack of trying on her part though. I doubt it would be much of a good time. Pretty sure she’s got fangs down there.” He shudders. “Would probably bite my dick off.”

Peter snorts, not wanting to look too closely at how pleased he feels that Tony isn’t interested in hooking up with her.

Tony’s face lights up when he spots a casino entertainer dressed up as some kind of Roman emperor taking pictures with a group of tourists. “Render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,” he says loudly, then hands over his trophy to the perplexed staff member. “There you go.”

Peter laughs as Tony grabs his hand and they hurry away, off to chase the bright city lights.

--

continued in Part 4 - Oral Fixation

tagging: @nerdylocksandthethreebears @staticwhispersinthedark

(let me know if anyone wants to be on the tag list for this fic)

@starkerfestivals

[himikiyo]

cityscapes turn to dust // himikiyo week day 1

Himikiyo Week Day 1: Folklore + Magic

“Trying to defy death, hmm? You’re choosing to take the hard road just as I did. If I don’t have enough time left to change your mind, all I can do is wish you luck.”

Korekiyo's actions taking care of their sister catch up to them.

Read on AO3, DRA, or under the cut

They had to travel light these days. With the city so ravaged, it was common to pick up and leave at a moment’s notice, and there was only so much Himiko could carry. Kiyo was much stronger than her of course, but even the essentials weighed a fair bit. Most of her possessions, along with theirs, remained at their house, still locked up tight for the time being. Someone determined enough would still be able to break in, but she tried not to think about that.

Material possessions weren’t as important as a life anyway.

Despite traveling light though, Korekiyo seemed to be getting weaker. She told them they just needed rest, but they both knew that wasn’t it. The last time they visited their sister, she put up a fight. Perhaps she knew what was coming, and recognized the sickle in their hand. Either way, she bit them again. Maybe that was the final exposure their body could take after holding out so long.

Their arm was wreathed in broken veins, a sickly purplish crown centered on the bite mark. The imprint of each and every tooth was still clearly visible over a week later whenever she checked under the bandages. She picked her opportunities carefully, when they were half asleep or in a particularly good mood. That way, she hoped, they wouldn’t be quite so upset about how cold it was to remove any layers.

She checked every night to make sure they were still breathing. It was getting harder to tell.

---

People still tried to avoid saying the word zombie. Euphemisms were used: infected, changed. Sometimes there was no more than an indirect reference, like the grandmother who told her that “some of them” drove her out of her home. Maybe it was a foolish desire, since this elderly woman had clearly done well enough for herself to escape that, but Himiko wanted to help her.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” she asked. “Just for a little while. We don’t have much, but it’d be safer than traveling alone.”

“Thank you, dear,” the woman replied, adjusting her shawl. “But I like my chances. I’ve made it this far. If you’ll accept some advice from an old woman...” She trailed off momentarily, casting a meaningful glance at Kiyo. “You may want to consider striking out on your own too. There’s something not right about that one.”

“They’ve just been a little sick lately. Once we find somewhere safe to get medicine, they’ll be fine.” The lie tasted bitter on her tongue, but she couldn’t stand saying anything else. Without Korekiyo, she was sure she’d be long since dead.

“Sick? Or changing? Sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is when there’s nothing more to be done.”

“No, that’s not—” She broke off, swiping miserably at her eyes. Kiyo still sat in the corner. Wearing three sweaters to fight a mild early autumn chill, they gave off the impression of an especially gangly marshmallow. It seemed like they were oblivious to the conversation, but Himiko knew better. They always observed more than people gave them credit for.

“Don’t let your friend suffer, dear.” After pressing a small, paper-wrapped package into her hands, the grandmother left. Himiko watched until she vanished from view, hoping she arrived safely to wherever she was headed.

---

“So,” Kiyo said some time later. “When are you planning to kill me? She gave you everything you need to do it, didn’t she?”

“What? No, I’d never. You know I’d never do something like that.” Perched on the edge of the couch they were laying on, she combed a hand through their hair. It helped her fight the urge to rest it on their forehead and see how much their temperature had dropped.

“Yet you encouraged me that putting my sister out of her misery was the right thing to do.”

“That’s different. She wasn’t herself anymore.” As always, she bit back the part about how even with her full mental faculties, that would have been what she deserved.

“Any day now, you might come to find that I am not myself anymore either. Then I will no longer be able to cooperate with your attempts to do it painlessly.”

“That won’t happen,” she argued, fingers involuntarily tightening in their hair for just a moment. “If it was going to happen, it would have already. That was, what, the fifth time she bit you or something? It’s like you told me that first day I found out the truth. You’re immune.”

“Immune.” They scoffed, face contorting into something between a grimace and a scowl. “That was never anything but a lie I allowed myself to believe. I’m not immune. I’m dying.”

“No, you’re not,” Himiko mumbled. She inched closer to them on the couch, laying her head on their bony shoulder. Through sweaters and blankets, it almost felt soft. “I won’t let you.”

“Trying to defy death, hmm? You’re choosing to take the hard road just as I did. If I don’t have enough time left to change your mind, all I can do is wish you luck.” Numb fingers tugged their mask down to press a kiss to her forehead. The old, scarred-over bite wound on their neck was taking on the same purplish hue as their arm.

---

She woke up the next morning with her head resting on their chest. She couldn’t hear a heartbeat.

Shinguuji Korekiyo was dead.

After she came to that realization but before she could figure out what she should do about it, they stirred, feebly trying to shove the blankets off.

“Too hot,” they mumbled, rolling over (or trying to — the attempt wasn’t very successful with half her weight still on them).

“Kiyo?” It had been weeks since they had anything temperature-related to say that wasn’t complaining of being too cold. Not to mention the bigger issue of their lack of vital signs. Straightening up fully, Himiko leaned over them to meet their eyes. They were groggy and unfocused, but they clearly seemed to recognize her.

“What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I guess I have in a way,” she responded, choking out a shaky laugh. “You.”

They sat up slowly, giving her a perplexed look. Did they not even realize what was going on? Surely they had to feel different. She reached out and laid a hand on their chest, just to be certain. Was she so exhausted that she just missed it before? After flexing their wrist, stretching their arm — stiff, maybe from the lack of blood flow? — they overlapped her hand with their own.

“I see. I didn’t imagine becoming a zombie would feel so pleasant.”

“Pleasant? How can you be so calm?”

“I actually feel better than I have in quite some time,” they admitted. “It’s rather comfortable. I do seem to have a certain degree of numbness, but it’s a worthwhile exchange to be free from all the recent pain and discomfort I’ve experienced. Considering my mind seems to be intact, at least as much as I can tell from my own biased perspective, death might not be so bad. If nothing else, it gives me something new to study.”

“Oh. Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, but I don’t know if it’s normal to accept something like this so quickly.”

She was forgetting, of course, that Kiyo had never quite been normal.

---

Over time, it became clear that them saying they had “a certain degree of numbness” was a bit of an understatement. If she happened to touch them when they weren’t looking, they only seemed to notice about half the time. Their pain tolerance, already high, had increased to such an extent that it was very possible for them to sustain serious injuries without noticing. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they were in any danger of dying again.

They were still capable of healing, just at a slower rate than a living person. The bite wounds were gradually becoming less evident, flesh repairing itself in defiance of the laws of biology.

That didn’t save her from the unpleasantness of acting as their doctor.

Her first lesson in zombie surgery was a jarring one. The glass shards embedded in their leg likely could have been avoided if they had as much feeling as they used to, but there was no point in agonizing over could have beens. The good news was that they barely seemed affected, glancing down at the heavy wounds with little more than bemused intrigue.

“Ah. I thought something stung a bit. We should probably take a moment to deal with this,” they said smoothly.

“Um, yeah, probably. It really doesn’t hurt? You’re bleeding a lot. What if you run out or something? We don’t exactly know all about how this whole zombie thing works.”

“It’s alright,” Kiyo said. “I think. If I can heal from injuries, it follows that I must still be capable of regenerating my blood supply. However, leaving broken glass there could cause problems. You should remove it.”

“Me? Why?”

“You should get used to tending to my wounds just in case there comes a time when I’m unable to do so myself.”

---

She got plenty of practice. Most of their injuries were minor, but she dutifully took care of each one nevertheless. When she really thought about it, sometimes she wondered if they acted a little carelessly on purpose just to give her experience. They’d always teetered dangerously on the edge of masochism, and now there was the added temptation of learning more about zombie physiology to boot.

Sure enough though, that time Kiyo mentioned did come eventually. So far, it seemed nearly impossible for them to die again, but that didn’t do much to diminish the dread that flowed through her when she saw the exposed muscle and bone of their arm, flayed open like so many of the other shambling zombies they’d seen over the past several weeks.

They grimaced when she started to clean up the wound. It was barely a flicker of pain, but even that was significant considering how much they were able to get through without batting an eye.

“Apologies, dear,” they murmured. “Continue.”

“Sorry. Kind of weird how quickly this has become normal.” She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to their lips before continuing.

Pulling the edges of the wound together and stitching it up nice and securely...She wasn’t the neatest with her sewing, but she was getting better, and Kiyo always insisted they didn’t mind.

“Beautiful work, my love,” they praised, smiling down at their rather Frankenstein-esque arm. “That’s much better already.”

Himiko just smiled, wrapping the arm up again in their usual bandages.

“I’ll always be here to sew you back again. For now, we should probably both get some rest.” They were only a day away from the village of their hopes.

[arigatouiris]

kicking away insecurities // togata mirio

Author’s Note: I practically don’t exist. I’m a bot that sometimes writes. A bot with serious mental health issues. I was watching season 4 of BnHA and fell utterly and irrevocably in love with Mirio and for some reason, the character I have in mind for him has the same ability Mirai has in Kyoukai no Kanata. It fits in my head so why not? Hope you all like this~ 

Word count: 3665

Pairing: Togata Mirio x Insecure! Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, angsty thoughts, mentions of insecurity, overthinking, fluff though

If there was one word that could describe you, it would be broken. Or, so you thought. 

A heart that had given up—a heart that could no longer take any more sadness or rejection. Was it so bad that you craved for approval? Sure, everyone did say that leaving your happiness on other people’s hands would never make you happy, you must learn to love yourself—all that sounded great on paper, but seeing how unbearably hard it is to pull through on some days, alone, tired, bent and broken, how ridiculous was it to ask a broken person to love themselves first instead of wishing for love from elsewhere?

Perhaps, it was all wrong. You weren’t meant to be in U.A, and you weren’t meant to be a hero or assist heroes in any way. Your parents were supportive of your quirk, despite how dangerous it is and how ‘villainous’ it might have seemed. Due to your quirk’s nature, you were barred from displaying it to others around you, and some of the faculty took special care in helping you train your quirk in private. As a child, you were bullied and shunned for having a recklessly dangerous quirk, and perhaps, this is where the need for approval planted itself.

You were doing well if you could say, but the void remained. It grew day after day, and on some days, you didn’t even know what you were yearning for. You had no friends, no one to speak to, and since you never trained with anyone (weren’t allowed to), no one thought you were approachable. You thought you were unseen, invisible, insignificant, and everything worthless until Midnight-sensei had a proposal for you.

     “Do you want to take part in the Sports Festival?”

Your eyes widened at her words, your lip quivered. You were in your second-year, and due to the nature of your quirk, you were barred from taking part in the festival in your first year. It was great now that the first years’ had their own festival whilst the second and third-years had their own. This meant that you could take part in a crowd that was a bit more experienced, which excited you, however—

     “But, my quirk—”

Midnight put her arm on your shoulder, before offering you a lovely smile, “(y/n)-chan, you can’t keep living behind fear the whole time. So what if people know about your quirk? You’ve put in so much effort! You’re going to shine.”

If only you could believe her words. If only what Midnight-sensei said made any sense to you. Someone giving you praise—something you’ve always wanted–yet, it felt so unreal. Your mind refused to take it, thinking it was false, she was doing her job as a teacher and she didn’t mean what she was saying. You nodded, only agreeing to take part because you didn’t want to disappoint her, but the void inside your chest sucked in everything you were feeling, leaving you devoid of any emotion.

Walking back from the staff room, you quietly shut the door behind you before turning on your heel and suddenly, you felt rather uncomfortable. It was cold and it felt as if you were walking through a cloud of—

Your eyes widened when you saw you were deep inside someone, penetrating halfway through them through their chest. A gasp exited your lips before you tumbled backward, but you were aware enough to scramble and take the help of the wall to support you. Your lips were quivering and your eyes now focused on who or whatever that had given you such a scare.

A tall, blonde male—a senior perhaps, who was also rather handsome, eyes as blue as the ocean, stared at you with a helpless smile. He rubbed his neck in his defense, and honestly, looked rather clueless.

     “I’m sorry! I used my quirk so that you wouldn’t bump into me and fall down. It seems like using my quirk scared you more.” 

You were bewildered at how happy yet apologetic he sounded. His voice was like sunshine in a bowl, and there you were, staring at life itself.

     “T-That’s okay, senpai.” You had no idea what his name was, but you guessed he was your senpai.

     “OH! I’m your senpai? Sorry, I haven’t seen you around much. My name is Togata Mirio. What’s your name?” 

His smile almost blinded you. 

     “(l/n) (y/n).” You said, wanting to offer him a smile, but the mere thought that you put into what kind of smile it should be, took too long and you decided not to.

Mirio laughed out once before saying, “I’ll see you around then, (l/n)-chan!”

What a strange person, you thought before walking away.

*

     “Sensei, you wanted to see me?” Mirio’s voice was energetic.

     “Ah, Mirio! Ugh, if only you came a bit quicker. You’d have met (y/n)-chan!”

Mirio blinked. What did this meeting have to do with you?

     “I ran into her outside. What’s this about, sensei?”

Midnight sighed before turning to the third-year student and giving him a stern look. Mirio wasn’t used to Midnight’s sternness, therefore, he knew this was something of substance. 

     “You probably wouldn’t have seen (y/n)-chan around much.”

Mirio noticed. It was perhaps the first time he’d ever seen the girl around, and with such a cute face, he was sure to remember if he had seen her before. 

     “That’s because of her quirk. She’s not allowed to use it in front of others. And she was barred from using it on her own, as well.” 

Mirio froze. He couldn’t understand.

     “What do you...” 

     “(l/n) (y/n) has a very, very dangerous quirk. Eraserhead and I have been monitoring her progress since her first year and yes, she has made significant improvement. However, what she lacks in is something neither Eraser nor I can give her,” Midnight grinned at Mirio, “She needs to learn from a student who struggled with a difficult quirk too. She needs to understand that hard work doesn’t just work on heroes, but on students. You need to help her out.”

Mirio couldn’t understand the sudden grief that swarmed inside him. It was as if the mere thought of her having to fight this alone made him feel ridiculous. He now remembered how dead her eyes looked, how her face by default looked like it had given up. He had made his mind up then and there to help her out, and he knew he’d give it his all. Now, he was not just curious about the kind of quirk she had, but what kind of person she was too. 

     “I’ll do it, sensei. You can count on me!”

*

On some odd days, instead of heading back to your dorm, you liked to sit at a park bench and do your homework or read. You weren’t an avid reader, but some books did entertain you, and the atmosphere around you didn’t make you anxious. It was a peaceful time.

Suddenly, you turned to the right side of the bench to see a face.

You quickly got up, shouting, before Mirio Togata popped out of the bench, trying his best to calm you down.

     “Y-You scared me!” You exclaimed, feeling your heart almost pop out of your chest.

     “Sorry, I tend to have that effect on people. I really don’t realize I’m doing it.” 

You scrunched your eyebrows together before looking up at him. Damn, you thought, he sure is tall. You wondered what he was doing there, watching you. Did he want something? Did he want to apologize for earlier? Or, your eyes widened, does he want you to apologize because he’s your senpai?

     “I’m sorry—”

Mirio tilted his head, “What are you sorry for?”

     “Isn’t that why you’re here? To get me to apologize?”

Mirio’s expression faltered a bit but the smile remained intact. 

     “(l/n)-chan, I want to be your friend.”

You blinked at him. You weren’t sure what you were hearing.

     “I’m sorry, what—”

     “(l/n)-chan, I mean it. I think you’re really cute and instead of asking you out right away, I want to take my time in wooing you and be your friend.”

Your eyebrow twitched. So straightforward... 

     “Uh, senpai, I... I don’t know what to say—”

Mirio grabbed both your hands and held them firmly. Your gaze shot to the ring in your hand, which was still intact and then to him.

     “Say yes.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way he said it. Your insides were turning over because he was looking at you in that weird way. You didn’t have a choice. But, for the first time, you wanted to say yes to something simply because you wanted to.

     “Yes.”

*

Mirio made sure to greet you whenever he passed you by. And that meant close to 8 times a day. He surprisingly greeted you when you entered the school area, and greeted you when you were heading to the gym or the cafeteria, or even in the corridors when he was with his other friends. You learned from a few kids that Mirio and his two other friends, Nijire Hado and Amajiki Tamaki were the top-3 in the entire school.

And that got you curious. Why was Mirio trying to be friends with you?

You weren’t a very confrontational person, but sometimes, curiosity got the better of you. Eraserhead guided you that Tuesday, after school hours, to the gym where you’d demonstrate your quirk and how much you’ve improved. But, the thought never left your head. 

     “You look troubled.” Eraser said, bringing you out of your reverie.

     “It’s nothing, sensei.” 

Eraserhead hummed before leading you inside the gym. 

     “I won’t be guiding you from now, (l/n),” You blinked at his words, “Togata will.”

Your heart raced and you turned to spot Mirio, already in the gym, waving at you. So that’s why... Tears filled your eyes, but you blinked them away as rapidly as they came. No one would want to be friends with you. Mirio was asked to do this. He’d never have approached you on his own. You nodded because you didn’t want to disappoint or burden Eraserhead. You nodded, but your heart was shattering. 

Eraser walked out of the gym, leaving you two alone.

     “(l/n)-chan! We don’t have to start right away. Do you want to try this—”

     “Senpai, it’s best we get started now. I have to complete homework.” 

Mirio blinked before noticing the change in your tone. He wondered what could have happened. He walked over to you before observing your features. 

     “Do you want to tell me what your quirk is?” He asked, curious.

     “It’s—”

Instantly, Mirio placed a finger on your lips. Your eyes widened. 

     “Do you want to tell me or show me what it is?”

Your lips were quivering and you were sure he could feel it. Yet, Mirio’s gaze was fixed on your eyes and only waited for what you had to say. 

     “No...” You whimpered.

Mirio smiled softly. 

     “Then,” He whispered, leaning closer to your face. You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Try these dumplings with me!”

There was now a box of dumplings in his hand, causing your eyes to widen at the sudden change in topic. He handed you one, waited till you took a bite, and once your eyes widened, he hooted and celebrated as if he made them.

     “Senpai,” You let out, staring at the dumpling. “Thank you...”

     “You’re welcome! These dumplings are—”

     “Thank you.”

Mirio paused before spotting you in deep thought. You looked so placid like a storm was brewing in your mind. And maybe it was, he’d never know. But he was curious, so so curious. Smiling, he only hoped that it would go as well as he wanted to. Because for some reason, making an effort for you felt light.

Days passed and your ‘training sessions’ with Mirio remained him bringing you weird food and you showing him new books to read. You found yourself talking to him like you would with a friend and it felt oddly satisfying. Mirio introduced you to Tamaki and Nejire, and you couldn’t believe how you could maintain conversations with them. On some days, Mirio would accompany you to your dorm and head back on his own. On other days, he’d watch you read in silence and not say a word. 

On most days, Mirio found himself falling in love with you like a truck would off a cliff. It was sudden, and it was strange, but everything you did set him on edge. He had suddenly turned into an idiot but with such a bright mind, perhaps, love made you feel that way. In silence, he found light; and in your silence, he found comfort. He saw scars on your hand that gave him the thought that your quirk indeed was a dangerous one, and stories that he deeply, desperately wanted to know. 

The story of the ring on your hand, the one that you fiddle with unconsciously, he wondered about that too.

But, it had to come from you.

     “(y/n)-chan!” 

Sometimes, Mirio had absolutely nothing to tell you, yet, he’d grab your attention because oh, he craved it. Mirio had never been in love before, but if he could describe it from the biology textbooks he had read for class, he’d relate it to narcotics. There was something so wistfully romantic about the way you walked around, alone; and how it was always Mirio who headed over to you and made you smile. It was romantic how you’d share small bits of information about yourself to him, despite being so hopeless when it came to receiving affection. It broke his heart that you had given up trying, but he wanted so badly to make you see how worth it this was. 

You were currently sitting next to him in the gym, leaning back against the wall. You were reading a book, just three pages left. A soft smile sat on your lips, engrossed in a life that wasn’t your own, empathetic that the story neared an end, lost with the words the character said. While Mirio stared at you, a soft smile sat on his lips, engrossed with a life he desperately wanted to know more of, empathetic that the story was something he did not know, lost with the way you just sat there being yourself. 

Instinctively, Mirio reached forward and brushed a strand of your hair aside, tucking it behind your ear. Your eyes widened a bit before your entire body came to a standstill. You tilted your expression before meeting Mirio’s intense gaze, the smile now lost, time now still.

     “Senpai?” You didn’t know why you whispered, but you did. 

     “Do you think you’re broken, (y/n)-chan?” 

Your eyes widened like saucers at your senior’s words. Yet, you knew he wasn’t done.

     “Why do you think so? You’ve taken a great deal of sadness and rejection in the past, haven’t you? Is that why?”

     “What do you mean, senpai?” 

     “I mean,” Mirio straightened himself and leaned toward you a bit more. “Sometimes, it’s inevitable that I feel what you feel. Your heart has given up and it... it breaks my heart!”

You didn’t know what he was trying to get at. You smiled, albeit a bit forceful, before wanting to assure him that you were fine. You were just an introvert, you didn’t feel the need to talk as much as others did. You were always like this—

In a second, Mirio leaned forward and kissed you on your forehead, knocking the wind out of you. Your hands scrambled at first and landed squarely on his chest, as Mirio’s right hand enveloped you and brought you closer to him. His lips were firm on your forehead, and once the kiss was done, he lingered, breathing you in.

     “Togata-senpai... What...” Your eyes were now wet with tears.

What was he trying to do? This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

     “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, (y/n)-chan. I always believed being bright and happy was the way to go. That’s where light was, I thought. I found light in your silence, (y/n)-chan. And in that light, I found love.”

You knew he was a cheesy person, but there was something compellingly stubborn about the way he was talking right then. But, you were scared to believe him. You were scared to give him your heart. You were scared. You were terrified. 

     “Senpai... I...” You were about to burst, and you desperately wished he hadn’t started this. “I can’t...” I didn’t even allow myself to like you. Please don’t make me. Please don’t make me fall for you—

     “I am not going to leave. Not like whatever has happened before. I am going to be the person you can count on. The person that stays. So, (y/n)-chan, if you’re going to tell me you’re scared now, that’s alright. But I’ll make you see it. I’ll take this fear away. Because what hero will I be if I can’t even do that?”

He smiled after that. It was the sort of smile that made you think of how perfect Mirio was—it was unreal. There was no way someone so ethereal can be interested in someone like you. Someone so dangerous. 

But, could someone so ethereal lie to you? He wouldn’t.

You smiled after that. 

     “Senpai...” You weren’t thinking. “I want to show you my quirk.”

Mirio’s eyes widened. He didn’t say a word, so as to not make you uncomfortable. You nodded once, feeling strangely at peace with yourself, before standing up. You touched the ring firmly before taking it off, looked at him before taking a deep breath.

     “If you change your mind about me after this, I won’t blame you.”

Mirio’s heart raced. What was this quirk that you were so scared of? Was it truly terrifying? Was it something that could actually change the way he thought of you? Was there such a thing as a villainous quirk? 

A second later, you pierced yourself with the ring. Mirio blinked before standing up as well. His eyes widened with what happened next—blood rushed out of your tiny wound and fell to the ground in full force, yet there you stood, calmly. A second later, the blood solidified, turning into a sword or the shape of a sword—and you held it firmly in your hand. Turning to Mirio, you spun the blood-sword around in your hands like an expert swordsman would, and stood in your stance.

Mirio’s jaw dropped.

     “This is...” He walked over to you and held your wrists, shocking you, “This is seriously the best quirk I have ever laid eyes on. This is... You can control blood?”

You nodded, a bit stunned at his response. “Just my blood. I can solidify it into anything. Bullets, this weapon, I can even make a gun, but that takes a lot of practice. After three minutes of using my quirk, I start to feel light-headed. So I have to consume a lot of liquid after. It’s...” You looked away from him, “It’s a bit scary for anyone else to see it—”

     “I’m very sorry if there were people who made you feel like your quirk wasn’t good. (y/n)-chan, your quirk is amazing! You can save so many people using this quirk! And when you control it the way you do, which is awesome, you can be a top hero for sure! I...” He took a deep breath. “God, I think you’re amazing.”

Your eyes widened at the way he spoke to you. Your lip quivered and everything that you had been avoiding up until that point came resurfacing. It was impossible to ignore someone like Mirio Togata. Especially lie to yourself that you weren’t in love with him. 

     “Senpai, I... I really thought that you were doing this only because you were asked to. I felt bad because I thought... No, I knew that you’d never have become a friend if you weren’t told to do this. I mean... Look at me! I have a weird quirk, I barely say anything ever, I am filled with insecurities to the brim and that’s annoying because I’ll always require reassurance and it isn’t your job to—”

     “The second you ran into me, (y/n)-chan, I was fascinated by you. And yes, I was asked to help you, but the more I got to know you, I realized that you were more than just this bubble you put yourself in. I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes, just once. Then you’d see how beautiful you are to me.” 

A second later, you pulled in all the blood inside yourself and put on the ring. You were a bit light-headed, which caused you to shut your eyes for a few seconds. Mirio instantly ran out of the gym to go get something, causing you to chuckle a few times when he returned with vanilla-flavored milk.

     “This... This was all they had.” Mirio panted, looking apologetic.

     “This is good, thank you.” You said, taking it from him.

     “I can’t,” Mirio gasped. You blinked up at him. “I can’t not do this!”

You tilted your head, but before you could say anything, the blonde grabbed your face and kissed you squarely on the lips. Your eyes were saucers now, your hands firmly pressed against the vanilla milk he had got you. Mirio kissed you fervently like his life depended on it, and he kept going—you closed your eyes and eased into it, wondering how and where you got this calmness in you, but you didn’t complain.

Pulling away, Mirio sighed.

     “What?” You whispered, unable to look at him.

     “You taste like vanilla milk.”

You giggled before finishing it, and there he was, just standing there watching you. 

     “I love you, (y/n)-chan. I’m going to knock those insecurities off your system in due time. Wait and see.”

You looked up and smiled at him, “I love you too, senpai. Thank you.”

For everything.

[ksbwnotes]

Chapter 2

1. Oof

I’m sure, even after being told about this ‘relative’, Sangwoo kept it cool and didn’t tip off anything to the police, acting like “OH RIGHT MY RELATIVE THAT I HAVEN’T SEEN IN A FKKN DECADE”. It comes to show that he is incredibly calculating and intelligent, able to keep a facade on to an artform. This was probably something he has been able to do ever since he was a child, as we’ll later witness in his flashbacks.

Later Sangwoo says “you might as well have said you were my brother”, which is meaningful because Sangwoo doesn’t have one. So every relative Sangwoo knows is just as nonexistent as his nonexistent sibling.

2. I find this important to note

Bum obviously is prone to putting people on pedestals, only seeing them through the rose tinted glass he wants to see them in.

3. Why this though?

I find it very interesting that, because he doesn’t want to die, what he yells out is “I FELL IN LOVE!”  Why this? I’m sure he’s also used this an excuse for the others he has stalked (I wonder if Sangwoo ever realized that Bum also stalked women and how he felt about that), but it most likely never worked with them. 

Bum was just spouting whatever came to mind, so the fact that the word ‘love’ is what jumped out of him says a lot of how much it has been consuming his every being, even in the face of death.

4. s;jgio;sejro;gisejro;igerj wtf sangwoo

...I...well. I mean, it’s a great parallel, I think. Bum’s desperation for love making him yell that as his last words, while Sangwoo’s desperation for that same love making him stop in his tracks and even...fucking pet Bum???  I dunno, lonely or not, that wouldn’t be the first response of a completely not-gay-straight-as-an-arrow man. But obviously, Bum is a cutie pie and can appear feminine, which is why Sangwoo didn’t automatically kill him. If Bum looked like a ‘man’, then there would seriously be no saving Bum. 

And I’m sure Koogi meant to emphasize Bum’s feminine attractiveness in that petting panel, maybe as a way to show what Sangwoo was seeing. I love how it’s purely white and blank behind Bum, as Bum is all Sangwoo is seeing. The fact that it’s white rather than black can suggest that Bum could be a new beginning, something pure and untainted.

I do kinda wonder if Koogi had Sangwoo as straight as a way to mitigate the stigma against homosexuality???  As a way for her to say “just because the story is between two men doesn’t mean this is supposed to be representative of homosexuality itself”.

5. Wow, the whiplash of mood and quick thinking

Boy didn’t even fkkn hesitate to destroy Bum’s legs, goddamn. 

However, this does show that Sangwoo is very aware and his mental faculties are intact, even during times like these. You think he’d be fkkn furious and lose it, beating Bum to death automatically before Bum could even say anything. But Sangwoo doesn’t. The moment Bum says “love”, he stopped. He wasn’t in a haze of fury...maybe excitement (especially with that goddamn terrifying smile as Bum runs up the stairs), but even that was controlled. 

In away, Sangwoo just seems...tired. He’s moving only because he knows he has to. 

Also, the moment he says “not with your legs the way they are”, Sangwoo sees Bum the same way he has seen the women who’ve also been in the basement. The CEO daughter girl also had broken legs, so obviously the first thing he does is ruin their legs so they don’t run away...which...yeah, smart. I actually haven’t seen that even with Criminal Mind. xD

So that does show that Sangwoo seems really set in keeping his prey with him. Not to ‘chain’ them or anything, but to keep them from leaving him. 

6. Double homicide

Ooooh 3 years ago?? Okay this is interesting...conscription age is 18 (or 17 since Koreans add that one year). I’m confused because, technically, Bum should’ve met Sangwoo first in the military, then in his college days. So did Sangwoo go to military later at age 20?  Could be since his mom is...yeah. And his dad...sure. 

Also, Bum and Sangwoo are four years apart. So say that Sangwoo went to college first, so Bum met Sangwoo when he was 22...then while Sangwoo was 20 and Bum was 24, they went into the military later. Since Sangwoo is 24 now (or 25 in Korean age jfc), that means he was 21 when his parents were killed. 

Sangwoo also seemed to have needed to be discharged early, most likely because of his sick mom, which would explain also why he was in no position to befriend Bum. 

Anyways, so that means Bum knew Sangwoo and was in love with him for about 6 years.

7. Wow

No wonder Sungbae is like this. He sees the eyes of every person he chased in Sungwoo’s dead-eyed stare. But he’s actually wrong about this, lol. Sungwoo’s mom is the culprit, technically, even though she was also a vicitm.

8. UHHHHHHH

HEY, SANGWOO, HEY, WHY IS BUM FKKN NAKED TO HIS UNDERWEAR WHAT THE HELL. WHY DID YOU UNDRESS HIM SANGWOO. HEY.  

Oh my god, wait, was that really Bum’s underwear or did Sangwoo put that on him??

Also, wow, Bum’s hips. He seriously has a feminine body. Like...pear body shape lol. 

Also, seriously, Sangwoo is treating Bum right off the bat like the other women. Rather than completely heterosexual, Sangwoo is more demisexual. And rather than femininity, he more prefers ‘weaker’ bodies, so that he doesn’t feel threatened by them. That is automatic towards females. 

9. Hmmmmn....

Ah, for this to be the first thing you fucking wake up to, jesus christ. xD

I wonder though, why did Sangwoo cut her hair short? There’s probably multiple reasons for it...but one theory I would find interesting is that it’s because he met Bum. 

Maybe he wanted to see how she looked like with a male haircut, how it would look like and compare how it felt like to see a pretty girl beside a pretty boy. He compared the two physically and made his decision that Bum was worth more than her.

I really do find it interesting that Sangwoo truly chose Bum over her, despite her being voluptuous and beautiful and actually a woman, which...you know...important for het men right. 

But Sangwoo chose Bum because even though Sangwoo went straight to beating him with a goddamn bat, Bum yelled “I FELL IN LOVE WITH YOU”.

If the choice was between what’s between the person’s legs vs the person themselves, Sangwoo will choose the person.

10. Interesting insight

Into why Sangwoo killed her and his thought process.  Again, interesting, the fact that he kept emphasizing how stupid she was. 

Her screaming for help and stuff is a very natural reaction and no one should ever blame her for that. But, for Sangwoo, it was ridiculous because she should’ve known that would piss him off more rather than make him feel guilty. 

Part of it is how he learned to survive growing up--by reading his parents’ moods and figuring out how to respond. And on a smaller scale, how to respond to other people so that they see nothing but a charming, handsome man. The fact that she can’t even do 1/100th of that is fucking infuriating...and on a personal level, I can understand that frustration.

The other part is that her begging for mercy is obviously NOT what he wants. He wants someone like Bum, who’ll respond to him with loyalty and desire. Who won’t be afraid of him and will still stay to ease his loneliness. 

11. Uh

What kind of half-baked excuse was this, bro. You spared him only because of what he yelled out to you and you just don’t want to admit it to yourself...or maybe just don’t want to say it to Bum, so that you can control him better.

12. Women have hair too, asshole

Sangwoo really does try to feminize Bum throughout the whole story. So obviously, yes, his instinct is more hetero. If Bum were burly like a guy rather than delicate like a girl, there would be no saving him. Sangwoo has his preferences. And Bum fits the most important aspect--and that most important part isn’t Bum’s genitalia.

I also do think it has to do with social construct. Sangwoo most likely grew up internalizing misogynistic and homophobic belief systems, whether or not those are what he truly agreed with.

13. The first time Sungwoo snaps

Notable to mention that it’s because he sees Bum trembling in fear of him. Sangwoo doesn’t like being reminded of the monster he is. He doesn’t take pleasure in it. But because he knows that he’s unforgivable and can’t go back, he just makes the situation worse by further slipping into the skin of a monster.

Honestly, this might be more indicative towards what he witnessed with his father. He’s emulating his father’s qualities because he knows that he’s no better than him, and can’t handle that fact. He’s also locking up his women THE SAME WAY HIS FATHER DID TO HIS MOM. 

But, honestly, I think it’s because his mom is just as bad as his dad, that’s why he’s doing the same things as his dad.

14. You beat the girl

This is indicative of the fact that Sangwoo would be willing to be with Bum despite being a guy. And also suggests that, again, he really was comparing them and decides that Bum, with all his ‘loser’ like qualities, is still worthier than her. Heterosexual first, but demisexual overall.

And again, I think he’s doing the same things he has seen his father has done, pouring the food over Bum’s face like that.

15. First reward

Ah, here comes the training. 

Also, I can see how differently Bum responds compared to every single person he’s seen, including his mom. They all will feel humiliated and resentful, hateful towards Sangwoo, seeing him as a monster, or being completely defeated. But Bum, instead, responds exactly the opposite. This is exactly why I think Sangwoo decides to kiss Bum. 

Because, despite Sangwoo calling him a retard, that is exactly what Sangwoo wanted to see (but at the same time, not...Sangwoo doesn’t want someone as messed up as Bum, but he knows that only someone as messed up as Bum can be with him, and more than anything, he doesn’t want to be lonely). 

If Bum reacted with fear rather than desire, Sangwoo would’ve never kissed Bum.

This is also a huge catch-22 that will end up blowing up on both of them. Bum reacting like this will make Sangwoo feel better about his actions and like he was able to find the person who’ll be able to accept him for who he is. But in the long term, it will reinforce this behavior and truly make him into his father. It will also keep him from truly dealing with his past. 

16. Oh goddamn

Great insight into Bum’s mentality.  It’s amazing, also, that he sees this as a sign of ‘dating’.

What I find telling is that Bum is thinking this DESPITE SEEING PROOF OF HIM BEING A MURDERER. I do get that it could be from his dissociation from real life, so he doesn’t quite understand what is going on. But at the same time, really, if Sangwoo treated Bum better, then Bum would’ve been absolutely fine with him being a serial killer and even join him. I honestly do believe Bum is more of a natural-born murderer than Sangwoo (though Sangwoo is probably more of a natural asshole lol).

17. Why are you also mentioning the word date!?!?

And I’m not sure if Sangwoo senses that those are Bum’s thoughts, but he also is thinking about dating in this context??

I can see how Sangwoo could’ve ‘read’ his prey and responded in a way that would’ve messed with their heads, but at the same time, it could be that Sangwoo is looking at this situation in just as much a twisted way as Bum is. But rather than Bum’s “I’m disgusting, yet he’s kissing me” mentality, he’s more likely thinking “Kissing him isn’t disgusting, so he passes round 3″ (round 1 is the first time with the bat, round 2 is the one where he kills the girl instead of Bum).

The thing is, since Sangwoo didn’t find Bum’s kisses disgusting, it reinforces his desperation to keep Bum with him. If he didn’t like kissing Bum, then I truly believe Bum would’ve died right here and now.

Also, interesting: “You’ll be the only one that ends up hurt, you know?”  So, obviously, Bum having one working leg increases his chances of escape. So this is Sangwoo’s way of saying ‘if you escape, then I’ll make sure to hurt/kill you because of that’.

18. Here comes the sledgehammer

This is an interesting parallel. Looking back at chapter 1, it also seems like only one of the girl’s legs are broken, like how Bum’s leg was after falling down the steps. 

So to keep the girl from escaping, Sangwoo just most likely tied her up. It’s not full-proof and it limits her movements, but Sangwoo probably doesn’t give a shit because with how she’s acting, she wasn’t going to live much longer. 

But for Bum...with Bum, he’s planning to let him live much longer. He doesn’t want to restrict Bum’s movements because that makes him less appealing. Instead, Sangwoo takes it personally--takes it upon himself--to actually break Bum’s legs. This is a much more permanent fixture, reflecting how he’s planning to keep Bum with him for a much longer time. 

Also, now that I’m looking at this, I think Sangwoo doesn’t actually rape his victims. Yeah, he has molested the girl’s dead body, but I think that’s more of a curiosity towards a dead body than actual sexual interest. It’s natural after seeing his mom’s corpse in front of him and all that...screwed up as fuck jazz lol. 

I think he has sex with them in the beginning and that’s probably when he snaps because...his mom raped him, so. After that, he tortures them according to their reaction to him. But he probably doesn’t actually touch them more than that. In the case of hypersexuality, Bum fits this much more than Sangwoo does at this point. Sangwoo seems to just use it as a weapon, while Bum does it because he wants to be fucked. 

This makes sense because it seems like Sangwoo was raped once by his mom and probably molested the other times, while Bum was frequently raped.

Furthermore, Bum--as we’ll later see--is most likely the only one he truly does rape. 

[mor-beck-more-problems]

White Crest 101 || Morgan & Margot

TIMING: Current

LOCATION: UMWC

PARTIES: @g0t-ri5h & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Margot gets a crash course in class from her new professor, and what it means to be a transplant White Crestian

The class had started several minutes ago and Margot had just barely rolled out of bed. She changed quickly into a pair of pants, not bothering to change the sweatshirt that she had slept in. There was no time. Margot had a habit of being late, a trait she had inherited from her mother. While her mother thought it was a fashionable faux pas, Margot was simply disorganised. By the time she busted through the back entrance of the room, the professor was halfway through her lecture. The nearest free chair was close to the front, one that would attract a great amount of unwanted attention. Margot trudged down to it, annoying a handful of students that had to stand to let her past. She sat down, listened to the remainder of the lesson, not following any of it. An advisor had called her over the weekend, told her that she didn’t have enough credits for the semester. To her chagrin, this class was one of the few that still had availability. English, a subject she had always struggled to comprehend, starting later would only make it more difficult. The lecture came to an end and Margot began to pack her things. “She’s a great teacher when she’s actually here.” One student said to another. Margot listened intently. “My roommate was telling me she was gone for like a month last semester. No explanation, just poof.” The other gossiped back. The two of them left, and Margot was just about to follow them out when she heard her name be called.

“Do your reflection responses! Do the reading! Make good choices! Remember you have agency in your life!” Morgan shouted her end of class reminders in one breath, waving goodbye to each of them as the filed out. Most waved back with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. They made faces, because they were still young and had too much pride, but no one was above a little personal attention or affirmation. “Ooh, not you, straggler! Yes, you, Margot!” She smiled smugly, waving the roster in front of her. It wasn’t magic powers that gave her the student’s name, just some really attentive refreshing of the faculty center page. “You know…” She eyed the girl and gave a wry smile, “If you only stay for half the class, you’re only getting half your money’s worth. Also, technically, no participation credit. Which is an extra bummer, since it’s the easiest thing to get. But since you’re new, I guess I can let the first day slide. You got some free time, Margot? I’d love to know what brought you to my class this late in the game while we go over make-up work?”

Margot let out a quiet and frustrated sigh. She was so looking forward to going back to her bed. Instead she turned to face the professor. “I’m sorry I was late. I overslept.” Margot knew this was not an adequate excuse by any means, but she had no patience or energy to think of something more creative or reasonable. Margot began to walk towards the lectern in the front of the room, towards Morgan. “It was a great lecture though, the parts I was here for. Very, uh, informative.” She offered this as a consolation. Margot glanced at her watch, as if she had someplace else to be. “Yes, I suppose I can stay for a bit.” She took off her backpack and sat it on the floor where she stood. Margot imagined this could take a while. “I thought I had enough credits for the semester, but apparently I didn’t. Yours was one of the only classes I could join so late. Is there much to catch up on?” Margot dreaded to think of all the homework she had missed, it would only add to the growing stack of overdue work on her desk.

Morgan let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course she had only come here for the credit. She had maybe even heard that it was an easy class to pass, which...wasn’t wrong either. Morgan didn’t think that being a hardass with grades was the way to students’ hearts, or to teaching them anything effective. She tossed Margot a syllabus and gathered the rest of her materials, leading her out of the room and off to the long series of halls and stairs it would take to get to her office. “No, there won’t be too much work. Just the introductory assignment, so I know some useful things about you. And you’ll have to grab the books and catch up on the book we’re finishing up next week. But, it’s really not much. I’m not interested in competing with your other courses for ‘Most Demanding Homework.’ I’m here to help you figure out how to think differently and express yourself more effectively. But--” She paused on the stairs to look over at the girl. “Maybe you have some questions for me? I’m not sure how long you’ve been at the school, but I know it can be a lot sometimes no matter what.”

Morgan’s sigh sounded nearly as pained as her own. If Margot was more empathetic, she may have even apologised for being so flippant and insulting the woman’s career. But, alas, she was not so perceptive. Margot caught the syllabus between her palms and began flipping through the first few pages as she followed Morgan out of the room. As she spoke, Margot made a mental note to source an online copy of this week’s reading material. It would be cheaper that way. “Introductory assignment?” Margot hoped it would be a simple questionnaire; name, age, perhaps favourite pets name. Hopefully it wouldn’t ask her about her lifelong hopes and dreams. She would most definitely fail. “I transferred in this year, so I’m still becoming acquainted with everything here.” Margot explained, “I do have one question, since you asked. Your absences,” Margot prefaced before continuing, “I overheard some students say you disappeared without warning last semester. I was just wondering, will attendance still be required if that occurs again?” Her question was admittedly influenced most by laziness and her wish to stay in bed as late as possible. But, Margot was also just curious, and rather nosey. It was probably an inappropriate question, but it was too late to rescind it.

“Oh, just a short reflection on how you feel about reading and writing about stories and what you want to learn this semester. Learning doesn’t happen by accident, and being clear with yourself on what your intentions are can go a long way to getting the most out of the semester!” Morgan explained. She jogged up the next flight of stairs and turned on the landing, bright with encouragement. She nodded along as she walked, commenting that asking questions were how everyone learned. And then Margot asked. Morgan’s foot slipped on the next set of stairs and she stumbled down to one knee. “Uh, my--a-atendance?” She understood that her students flourished better with consistency and she knew that even though none of last semester’s students had the nerve to ask her what had happened or express how it had made them feel, she knew they had their opinions on it. What Morgan did not know was that Margot was the kind of student to cut to the chase, no matter how sharp she needed to be. She straightened herself up and smiled again, scrambling to recover. “Uh, well, it is possible that I may cancel class for unforeseen reasons, in which case there won’t be any reason to take attendance, but if there is class, then there will be someone to teach you, even if for some reason it isn’t me. And if there is someone to teach you, then they will be taking attendance and passing on the roster to me.” Her voice was growing tighter, breathier. She was forgetting to breathe. Morgan hissed through her teeth for breath and forced herself to meet Margot’s eyes. “Is there something else that you wanted to ask me about my absences, Margot?”

Margot’s hand reached out to grab Morgan’s elbow as she stumbled. “Oh, shit!” Margot cursed under her breath. She had clearly taken her professor by surprise. But, as quickly as Morgan’s pleasant smile had faltered, it was back in it’s rightful place. “Very well.” Margot responded to the thorough explanation, “I only ask because my course load is already so full. My programming classes are very time consuming, and I just want to ensure I can keep my schedule intact.” A lie, Margot thrived in disorganisation. Her ‘unplanned routine’, she liked to think. “I’m glad to know that the class would be unaffected in such an event.” Margot smiled in a disingenuous, thin line, hoping to settle the sharpness of Morgan’s breath. She was being her most polite self now, the facade she reserved only for her mother and father. It seemed she had distressed the teacher, Margot wondered why. To her it was such a straightforward question. “No, your absences, and reasons for them are entirely your personal business.” For now anyways. Margot’s mind was already in front of her computer, researching. Her question had tugged at a nerve. Margot liked to know what made people tick, their darkest secrets and how best to exploit them to her advantage. “Did you still want to go over the make-up work?” They were still frozen on the staircase, and Margot wondered whether Morgan would still be willing to help her cause despite the hostility in her tone and posture.

Maybe all the mushroom stress was getting to Morgan too much. She’d been so sure a second ago that this girl was trying to get under her skin, needling about her ‘personal emergency’ last year. But Margot stayed on that line of courtesy, and Morgan wondered whether she made other people feel this way when she asked about their kids or their losses or their dates. Maybe people with their sanity just barely intact didn’t like surprise personal questions. Who knew? Morgan tried to smile again, better this time. “Thank you. I uh, appreciate that. And, yes, of course. I want you to succeed. There’s copies of all the handouts on the class website, since I know half of you guys live your life on your computer.” She climbed up the rest of the way and started down the dimly lit hall, ignoring its off-center doors and the soft give of the floor that was just too much on the wrong side of uncanny to bear contemplating for long. “I know I can’t promise a lot for you, Margot, especially in a place like White Crest, but I can say I’ll try my best for you.”

Margot was glad that she had somewhat diffused the situation, having Morgan dislike her would only make passing this class harder. Once more, they were on route to her office. Margot detested this university, most of all it’s appearance, it was as if it had never had a renovation or even been repainted. She visibly cringed as they continued on their path. She had never been in such a lacklustre environment before, having been born and bred in quiet luxury. She hadn’t acknowledged the privilege while she had it, but since leaving MIT, it’s all she could think about. What she had lost. What had been taken from her. “I appreciate the help. I need it.” It seemed that Morgan was one of the more passionate professors at UMWC, most would not give a student this much assistance. “I’m trying my best to fit in here. It’s just,” Margot paused, considering her words, “such a strange place.” Strange didn’t even scratch the surface. “Have you always lived here? In White Crest?”

Morgan’s office was all the way at the end of the hall, through a communal office supply room stocked with paper the wrong size for the printer and coffee that was perpetually burnt. Morgan’s office was through a sticky door off the corner, one desk in five crammed together. Today, only Karl and Kirk were nursing whiskeys in coffee mugs since Kyle (or his body rather) still hadn’t been found. “Sorry, boys. Official business. Come back in fifteen minutes?” Her voice was bittersweet, sharpening an invisible knife under its surface. Karl and Kirk put their mugs down so fast, whiskey spilled over the sides. They folded their laptops under their arms and shuffled away. Kirk clumsily dropped a mint tea bag on her desk before mumbling an apology and shutting the door behind him.

Morgan turned to her student, smile tight with awkwardness. “Don’t mind the Medieval Bros. They’re mostly harmless. Now, anyways. And I’m a transplant from Texas. Strange is probably...the gentlest word for how things are here. Which, just some unofficial wisdom? Don’t be out after dark alone, especially on the full moon. Stay away from the cosplay bars, the crowds there are more dangerous than they look. Don’t go off trail if you’re a hiker, ever. And keep some bleach on hand in case your bathroom starts sprouting blood, eyeballs, or fish.”

Margot restrained her laughter as the two bumbling men were ushered out of the room. She knew the smell of whiskey well enough to know that wasn’t coffee seeping from their pores. Normally such unprofessionalism would surprise her, but this was the new normal. “Yum, mint tea.” Margot picked the bag up, twirled it between her fingers a few times before dropping it into one of the mugs. She had a sly smile on her face, the result of witnessing something she probably shouldn’t have.

“Texas, wow. I never would have guessed. You don’t even have the signature accent.” Margot made herself comfortable, taking a seat in one of the desk chairs that had become vacant by Karl and Kirk. At Morgan’s advice, Margot’s mouth opened, then closed, not knowing how to respond. She didn’t know what to make of all of these random warnings; skeledogs, mimes, now full moons and the dark. “Why does everyone keep telling me to be careful?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know how to take care of myself.”

Morgan reached into her desk and took out some things from her cache of school supplies, the paper handouts, a journal to be graded, the first assignment, and a spare copy of the first book. “Oh, that,” she said, laughing at the teabag. “They’re just trying to...well, make up for their existence. I think they’re really coming along when it comes to respecting women, though they should probably figure out how to do it without being induced by fear.” She handed Margot the stack of assignments. “Maybe at your old school that was true, but things are different here in ways they don’t tell you in the brochures. So, take these, follow the instructions carefully, and have them in by next week, and I’ll waive the rest of what you’ve missed. And, seriously, be careful. Don’t die!”

[evolutionsvoid]

Of all the types of Mancers that exist, there are some more obvious and commonly known then others. When you speak of Mancer Syndrome, hardly anyone will think of Venomancers and Psychomancers. The common folk tend to lean towards the blatantly obvious when it comes to magic, like fire balls, lightening bolts and "black magic." Thus, Pyromancers and Cryomancers are often thought about, because if you can wield the power of magic, why wouldn't you spit fire and summon ice? The biggest one, though, is the one that is the most notorious of them all, and probably the first to sour the Mancer name: Necromancers. What can even be written on this detestable field that hasn't been said a thousand times? Necromancers are those who delve into the art of resurrection and reanimation, those who toe the line between life and death. This field doesn't just stick with bringing corpses back to life, it also involves altering dead flesh, contacting spirits, and wielding the power of decay. Any kind of magic that uses a corpse or lifeless parts as a canvas is one that dabbles with necromancy. Some may question the practical uses of such an art, as what can it be used for in day-to-day life? Lots of magics find ways to help their fellow man and ease their burden. Necromancy is honestly not one of them. Of course there are those out there that say that there are many practical uses for such an art, but these claims are rubbish. "You can use it to contact dead loved ones and get closure," some may say, but plenty of people out there figure out how to move on after someone close to them bites it. Trying to contact someone from the dead is also a good recipe to accidentally bring forth a more malicious entity, or give your grieving customer some weird obsession. "We can bring fallen warriors back to life so that they can continue to fight for our righteous cause!" is another that should honestly tip you off that something bad is going down. Yes, it could help in winning battles and wars, but for who? At least enlisting normal people requires you to convince them to join your side, but having an army of mindless zombies makes people wonder about your morals. Also, if you do win the war, then what? What do you do with all these undead soldiers? Toss them back in their graves? Most of the time, the answer is "keep them around just in case" which translates to "use them to chop up dissenters and keep the masses in line." And if it isn't about the soon-to-be dictator, it is about the families who see their loved ones stumbling about and rotting. Most of the times it causes a bit of distress, but in some cases, people try to act like these empty husks are the real deal and then things get weird. Another reason I have heard is that necromancy "teaches you about the dying part so that we can use it to stop the dying thing." I have only heard that once at a drunken dinner party and I refuse to let them live that one down. 

Just like any other magic user, necromancers are under constant threat of mana poisoning. All this corpse-raising draws mana from the Splenius magus, and using such magic has effects on your body. There is some debate, however, of what causes the initial infections. Some think a necrotic element is slowly introduced to body whenever a spell is cast, just like other Mancers. Others say that the art of necromancy uses bits of your own life force as fuel, which is what degrades your body and mind. If this second theory was true, it would add some interesting implications to the field. Since most mana poisoning occurs when people overuse certain magic directly from their own flesh, the sickness can be prevented by using outside sources and cleansing your body. If necromancy does indeed feed off life force, then these normal preventative practices wouldn't work. With no current idea how to circumvent this, it would mean that every person who delves into the art of necromancy would be doomed to become a full on Mancer. This idea is what supporters of this theory point to, as many necromancers spiral out of control once they start bringing people back from the dead. It is a tempting piece of evidence, but I don't think it holds up. Many practitioners of this art do indeed go out of control, but I think that has to do with the mental issues that arise when one resurrects dead loved ones and believe they can conquer death. Gaining a god complex is practically a side effect of necromancy. When one starts delving deeper and deeper into this art and they fail to properly protect themselves, the toll will become obvious. Their own bodies will take on the likeness of the death they seek to avoid. Their skin will turn pale, and their hair will begin to fall out. For some, their flesh sags as if it is melting off their bones, while others shrivel like dried sponges. Health issues will arise, as the necrotic energy starts to eat away at their own bodies. At this point, they should stop and seek professional help, but who ever listens to sanity and logic? What typically happens is the weakened victim tries to use their magic on themselves, hoping that it can save them. If it can bring dead flesh back to life, then surely it can overcome a nasty cough and emaciated limbs? When they partake in this bit of self help, they will find that their magic works! Their bodies will be morphed back to normal and their health will be intact, at least it seems to be. What is really happening is that they are doubling down on this insanity. Besides the normal dose of mana poisoning one would get from frequent spell use, you are now pumping your veins with the magic to help keep yourself together. This just escalates things, causing the deterioration to happen faster and faster. Soon appendages will atrophy and bits of your flesh will begin to rot off. At this point, recovery is incredibly rare. Even if you were to stop performing necromancy entirely and ran straight to the nearest doctor, your poisoned body would soon give into infection and whatever lovely diseases you've contracted. It is usually here when people snap, as they watch their form fall to pieces. To fix this issue, they will turn to stitching their lost parts back on or finding suitable replacements from fellow neighbors. As they consume their fellow man and desperately try to keep their rotting body in one piece, the Mancer Syndrome will reach its final stage and a true Necromancer will be born.   What emerges from this transformation is repulsive and barely human. Their decaying flesh will have required them to come up with insane ideas on how to keep themselves alive and intact (well, mostly). They may mutate their own bodies, take pieces from other people or creatures, or find some other vessel to dump their rotted souls in. Whatever they do, it will most likely result in some festering pile of deformed meat that somehow still thinks this is all okay. When a victim succumbs fully to Mancer Syndrome, their minds tend to be lost during the journey. Some Necromancers may come out bestial and mindless, driven by a desire to survive and "reproduce." Reproduction, to them, means raising more corpses and creating more undead beasts. Funny enough, a feral Necromancer is the optimal result to come from the transformation. These creatures are ruled by instinct and obsession, so they are easy to predict and manipulate. Them being mindless also puts aside the whole "but they're still a person" objections that some fools may spout. A jabbering undead beast is easy to rally the people against, and many of these monstrosities are not smart enough to handle this pressure. Tempt them with a nice full cemetery and they will dive face first into any trap you lay. The real issue that comes from full blown Necromancers is when these abominations come out with some of their faculties intact. Like certain other Mancers, there is a chance for the mind to survive the transformation. When this happens, things get real bad. Now able to think and plan, these Necromancers will not be so easily fooled or trapped. They will think that they have ascended to some higher form, and thus they must continue their mission. Often this mission is the same old "kill the living, raise the dead" sort of thing. They will seek to gain power and followers, which often means they need corpses. Lots of them. Ever wonder why some cemeteries and tombs are so expensive to get into? That is because they are heavily guarded and certain folk will pay out the nose to ensure their dead stay right where they are. Necromancers of any sort become scavengers, eagerly scouring the land for corpses to use for their mission. Some may reanimate them into personal soldiers, while others may add this meat to their own form. Regardless of their end goal, Necromancers will go after any source of dead meat, and when that source dries up, they go after the living. Unlike some Mancers who may vanish into the wilderness, away from man and his cities, Necromancers tend to throw themselves directly into populated areas. This makes dispatching them crucial, no matter how sapient they are. The last thing you want is for a town to get hit by a plague and then have a horde of Necromancers come rushing in for the buffet. With undead beasts at their side and a whole array of horrible powers, Necromancers can be quite the headache. They are one of the few Mancers you will deal with that will have allies, so it is best to have numbers of your own. Eliminating their own zombies and warriors is crucial, as that is their main weapon. Taking them out will allow you and your fellow fighters to focus entirely on the Necromancer, giving you the advantage. It is also good to take out these minions because, despite popular belief, these nasty things don't die when their Necromancer is defeated. No idea why this thought has become so ingrained in people, but it isn't that simple. They may lose coordination and guidance, but they won't just drop to the ground once you lop their master's head off. On that note, beheading and stabbing aren't always a surefire way to kill a Necromancer. Due to their reanimating magic and monstrous form, they tend to survive injuries that would kill a normal person. Honestly, if you are looking at a person who is using their own entrails as whips, you should assume that impaling them probably isn't going to do a whole lot of good. So instead, one should aim to reduce any Necromancer to goop. Pulverize them with blunt weapons or fry them with any magic you can, just make sure you keep going until the remains stop moving. Another piece of advice I have is one that should be incredibly obvious, and that is: don't die. If one of your warriors gets killed in the fray, you can be sure that they will be getting back up to bite your throat out. So if you can't guarantee that every one of you will make it out alive, then everyone should be aware that they are going to bash a turned friend's skull in at some point. Either don't hesitate when that happens, or bring people you really don't like to the battle. Since Necromancers are so hated and reviled, you would think they wouldn't show up so often. The magic that births them is banned in many places, and raising a single dead rat will sound off the dinner bell for every angry mob within ten leagues. Killing a Necromancer is a sure fire way for people to like you, so any adventurer or slayer will be eager to bag one. Despite this, these nasty things keep popping up, and some never get put down in the first place. Turns out many people are terrified of death, and will do anything to stop it from taking them or a loved one. It is not so bad when a common mage falls for this trap, because you can get your troops together and beat them to a bloody pulp. The issues occur when a king or some high up noble decides that they aren't ready to let go, so they get themselves a Necromancer to get the job done. In this case, the abomination will be protected by these wealthy idiots who will do anything to keep their delusions alive. I have seen knights and entire legions being sent forth for the sake of some rotted meat bag, as their desperate court of fools refuse to accept loss. Five different groups of adventurers butchered and she didn't have to lift a freaking finger. I am pretty sure she is just mocking me at this point, because why else would she keep sending me an invitation to these stupid cotillions? I am not coming over to kill you for the same reasons you aren't coming over here to kill me. Lets keep throwing chess pieces at each other and not get cheeky with it, okay?   While some would say that Necromancers are the most dangerous Mancer there is, I would say that is absolutely untrue. Yes, the whole reanimating the dead and warping flesh thing is terrible, but it is something that many know how to combat. Show me a warrior who doesn't know how to fight the undead, and I will show you a fool that is holding a pointy stick. Ever since the dawn of this art, people have been adamant in stopping it, so there are plenty of ways to deal with them. Things like Ferromancers and Biomancers, however, are mind-boggling abominations that wield impossible powers and possess a frustrating resilience. So are Necromancers the most dangerous? No. Are they the most notorious? Yes, pretty much every person who has heard about magic would know about necromancy. And with most religions not taking too kindly to such a practice, they make it known to every person that will listen. The other thing that Necromancers are champs at is being the most insufferable magic users to ever exist. Whether they have turned or not, they just cannot shut up about their art and their desires to "conquer death." The sheer amount of drama they have to add to everything is extremely grating, and it seems like the art of necromancy requires one to take up theater at some point in their lives. "We are rebels against the tyrant, Death" and "The black veil of the void shall be pulled back for humanity to truly see" is just some of the insane drivel these bloated pus bags will come up with. They just act so high and mighty despite the fact that their appendages are falling off. I honestly don't hate Necromancers for raising the dead, I couldn't care less about what you do with a corpse. It is the fact that they turn the public against all magic users and then never shut up about the struggles of the soul and flesh that makes me want to vaporize every last one of them. Cavarious Shaid -------------------------------------- Yeah, I say that it is the most recognizable and commonly known Mancer, but I completely forgot about making an entry for them til now. It is only because DeltaX9 pointed out this glaring gap that I finally drew something up. Was so busy trying to get crazy and creative, that I completely missed one the most obvious one! So here it is and that is one less hole in my gallery!

[bubbyleh]

I See La Vie en Rose - Chapter 9

hey there! quick update. chapter 10 IS posted on ao3, but it won’t be getting a tumblr mirror because it’s not really plot stuff, just stupid things i wanted to share. so follow the link on my blog if you want to check that out, or just tune back in for chapter 11 instead

Chapter 9: The Reckoning

Tommy gawks at the destruction wrought upon the pavilion, and without thinking he brings his hands to cover his mouth. Never in all his life has he seen his home so damaged. Some pillars are missing entire chunks! A few of the scorch marks are still smoking!

Where is everyone?

Drawing in a deep breath, Tommy places two fingers in his mouth and whistles as loud as he can.

Sure enough, it takes a bit, but Sunkist comes running from the direction of his house. The first trick Tommy ever taught her, and it still works like a charm! He’s never been so relieved to see her before, at least until she tackles him to the ground with licks.

“Ow,” Tommy whimpers out, feeling the pain in his bruised shoulders.

Sunkist seems to recognize his discomfort, but she keeps sniffing his face. Yeah, she can definitely tell his nose is fucked.

“Oh, Sunkist,” Tommy sits up and hugs her. “You would- you won’t believe what happened down there today.”

“Tommy?”

He breaks away from Sunkist, and holy shit, Bubby doesn’t look good. He’s very clearly just stumbled in, leaning on one of the intact pillars for support. Tommy almost cries out for him, but Bubby cuts him off.

“I thought I heard you call for Sunkist,” he continues. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

In an instant, Tommy goes from concerned for his family’s well-being to seeing red.

“What- what am I doing!?” Tommy places a hand on his chest, offended beyond belief. He struggles to push himself up with his other arm, the thrumming pain causing him to wobble slightly, but he does stand. “What have you guys been doing?! I’ve been- I’ve been trying to get in contact with you all afternoon!”

Bubby narrows his eyes at Tommy, and for a split second he glances behind himself, back towards Benrey and Gordon’s home.

“Where’s the kid?” he asks, as if noticing for the first time Joshua isn’t present.

“He, uh. Darnold’s watching him.” Tommy frowns. Well, now that he knows things are somewhat okay up here, he turns back to his dog. “Actually, Sunkist? Could you- could you head down and keep an eye on them f-for me?” He’d appreciate something divine watching over them for a bit.

Sunkist barks in response, trotting into the Viewing Pool. She disappears with a flash, and Tommy feels like he has one less thing to worry about.

Before Tommy can ask a single question, Bubby has already turned around, gesturing for him to follow. Catching up, Tommy notices that Bubby’s legs are stiff as he walks, as if he has to mentally will them to bend.

“What- Bubby, what happened?” Tommy asks.

Bubby sighs. “Come on. I’m sure everyone is gonna want to see you.”

Wow, this is a whole new level of brushing off! Bubby’s not addressing the fact that wherever he looks, Tommy sees signs of a fight in the place he’s known as home his whole life. He really didn’t think it could get this bad.

But then again, what was Tommy supposed to think? They never told him anything.

They make it to Gordon and Benrey’s house, the door to which Bubby pushes open without knocking. Tommy almost calls him rude for it, but then he catches sight of the scene inside.

Coomer is immediately on Bubby, lecturing him for sneaking out while he’s so fragile. Tommy spies his dad in the corner, his gaze focused intently on the couch. And on that couch sits Benrey, Gordon passed out and laying in his lap. All of them look roughed up.

“Stop, Harold.” Bubby pushes his fretting husband’s hands away. “I’m fine, see?” He pauses, for the briefest of moments. “Look who I found.”

And just like that, everyone’s attention is turned to Tommy in the doorway. But Tommy’s stuck on the one person who can’t look at him, his thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘Gordon isn’t moving why isn’t he moving is he okay what happened-’

A pair of hands squish his face, and Tommy realizes it’s his dad. He’s looking down at him with such a sad look, and Tommy’s not sure if it’s intentional, but he stands right in front of him, blocking his view.

“Oh, oh dear, Tommy,” Gman says. “What happ..ened to your, nose?”

Tommy’s stunned expression turns to a glare. “Wh- my nose!? You want- you want to talk about my nose?!”

Gman obviously wasn’t expecting a hostile reaction to that, releasing his son’s face and backing away. It does little to calm Tommy.

“Do you- you have any idea how worried I’ve been!?” Tommy shouts. “You weren’t answering anything! And I come back, and- and everything is fucked up, and you’re just- just pretending nothing happened!?”

Bubby and Coomer no longer meet his eyes, but Gman just stares. Tommy continues, “Did- did any of you even check your phones!? I fucking fought a Skeleton today, and it-” All of Tommy’s fury vasnishes in an instant. Just remembering the empty feeling he got looking into that thing’s eye sockets is enough to twist his stomach. “It- s-so much about that was- it tried something-”

Tommy’s legs give out. He can feel his father by his side, holding onto him, and he thinks Coomer is there too. But his head is racing and he’s gripping at it as though he could slow it down somehow. “It- it was so cold, and everything was- was moving except me, and I couldn’t think, and if it wasn’t for-”

“It tried to possess you, bro,” Benrey finally speaks up. “Same as what it did to Gordon.” He runs a hand through Gordon’s hair.

Tommy blinks. “W-what?”

“I mean, I guess the… the cat’s out of the bag, or whatever.” Benrey sighs. “Skeletons possess people. Us mostly.”

“You’re- you’re joking?”

Bubby, who’s taken to leaning on one of the walls, shakes his head. “He isn’t.”

“Perhaps this conversation is best saved for when our friend over there wakes up, hm?” Coomer points at Gordon.

It takes Tommy a moment to process it all. ‘When Gordon wakes up.’ His dad pulls him to his chest, and making sure that he avoids his nose, Tommy presses into him with his forehead. He’s searching for a word, something he’s feeling, and then he realizes it’s trusted.

He feels trusted.

☆○☆○☆

“Your nose looks fucked,” Benrey comments from across the kitchen table. Coomer had convinced him to abandon his vigil over Gordon in favor of getting something to eat, but so far all he had done was make a few tonedeaf remarks Tommy’s way.

“Uh-huh,” Tommy responds, more preoccupied with his phone.

Darnold ♡: Wait they don’t know that I know?

Tommy: I’m not sure how to tell them???

Darnold ♡: I mean, it sounds like you’ve done enough “telling” for today Darnold ♡: So maybe don’t?

Tommy: Yeah? Then what? Tommy: They’re gonna be teasing you next time you meet!! :(

Darnold ♡: Well that just makes THEM look stupid, right?

Whatever stupid thing Benrey is about to say next is interrupted by a groan from the next room over. They both meet eyes, before scrambling out of the kitchen.

Tommy: Oh hang on Gordon’s awake!!!!!! :D

Benrey beats Tommy by a longshot, sliding to his knees in front of the couch and pulling Gordon into a hug. This only serves to agitate him.

“Ugh, Benrey!” Gordon complains, and it’s the most emotion Tommy’s heard from Gordon in a week. He almost cries.

Benrey isn’t deterred, only hugs Gordon tighter as he begins to ramble. “I’m so sorry I didn’t notice I should have seen it I’m sorry Gordon I’m so sorry-”

Gordon sits up, Benrey still clutching him like a koala and apologizing. He barely seems to register it, though, instead bringing a hand to his head and wincing. “My head is fucking killing me,” he mumbles.

“We’re all hurting, asshole, get in line,” Bubby snarks. He’s sitting with his legs crossed on the other side of the room.

Coomer, who had previously been sitting next to Bubby, has made his way to the couch. He places a hand on Gordon’s back and smiles at him. “Welcome back to the land of the living, Gordon!”

Tommy can’t help it anymore. With a wide smile he jumps onto the couch next to Gordon, pulling him (and by extension Benrey) into a hug. “Thank- thank goodness you’re okay!” And yup, Tommy can definitely feel himself crying now, but he doesn’t really care! Gordon’s back!

Having gotten a few more of his faculties in order, Gordon starts to realize that things aren’t exactly normal. Like, for example, everyone around him is injured to varying degrees. “What- why do you guys look like shit?” he asks.

Benrey still hasn’t broken out of his longform apology to make any stunning rebuttals, so Tommy just answers him. “I got- I got punched in the face by a Skeleton,” he nods.

“Holy shit, Tommy,” Gordon actually processes his appearance for the first time. “Is that broken? I can-” He worms his hand out from the hug mess, and before Tommy can protest that he really shouldn’t be using his powers right now, the pain in his face is gone in a flash.

Sometimes it pays to be friends with a god with a minor healing domain. Not when he heals you instead of resting like he should be doing, but other, more fun times.

Tommy gasps. “Gordon! No! You should- you shouldn’t be blessing people, right now!”

“I also got punched in the face by a Skeleton!” Bubby points at his bruised cheek. “The Skeleton was just inside Gordon.”

Oh. Well. He just said it, didn’t he?

“The… the what?” Gordon questions, clearly distressed.

“B-Bubby!” Tommy yells at him. “Why did you say that!?”

“What? We’re sharing things today!” Bubby gestures to himself. “I, for one, would want someone to tell me if I punched them like that!”

“The Skeleton was… inside me?” Gordon stammers out. Slowly, Tommy slinks his arms away from him, and he can see Benrey doing the same.

Gman steps in. “What Bubby, is. Saying, is that. You’ve been, possess...ed, by a. Skeleton, for a whole week.”

“What?! No, they- they can do that!?” Gordon shouts. Tommy thinks he’s about two seconds away from having to stop Gordon from pulling his own hair, when…

“They did it to me.”

Tommy hadn’t expected Benrey to speak up again, not since he revealed the fact Skeletons could possess people in the first place. But here he was, staring straight down at the ground, sitting on his hands.

“Um, we… We knew the Skeletons and their cult were bad for a long time,” Benrey continues. “But we didn’t… know. How bad.” He sighs, looking towards Tommy and Gordon. “I think if we told you guys, probably wouldn’t suck as much as it has. You wouldn’t have been hurt, Gordon.”

Gman places a hand on his son’s back as Benrey talks. Bubby has found his way back to Coomer’s side. All of them have grim expressions on their face, listening to a story to which they know the ending.

“So, uh. Two-thousands years ago. I went down to look at them, and they-” Benrey scratches the side of his face. “I don’t remember much after that, but they got me.”

Benrey draws his knees to his chest. “They made me do a lot of things. I didn’t… World got- got fucked. Society two time, second one didn’t like magic so much.”

Things suddenly start making a lot more sense. It’s like a missing puzzle piece gets clicked into place in Tommy’s mind, or a lightswitch gets turned on, or something like that. They haven’t been hiding this out of malice, or messing with the new guys, it was-

Gordon reaches out, grabbing onto one of Benrey’s hands. He cups his husband’s face gently, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Hey, Benrey, look at me,” he whispers. “It’s okay. I’m here, you’re safe.” Benrey launches forward, clinging onto Gordon, and Gordon holds him.

It was fear.

Tommy turns to the others. He has a feeling Benrey is done talking. “But… but why didn’t they do anything this time?” he asks them. “If- if they wanted to destroy things, why wait?”

“Well Tommy, if I had to guess,” Coomer hypothesizes. “We were able to knock Benrey back to normal relatively easily last time, as well as pummel the Skeletons we did find to the ground. Perhaps they wanted to weaken us from the inside before attempt number two?”

Goodness, this is a lot for Tommy to process right now. A societal-wide reckoning caused by the possession of one of his dearest friends? It’s a little much. He leans back on the couch. Damn it, this must be what Darnold felt like earlier.

“Wait a second,” Gordon suddenly pipes up. “Where the fuck is Joshua?”

Tommy pulls out his phone. “He’s with Darnold. He knows what’s been going on, we’ve been texting. It’s fine.”

“Oh, good,” Gordon sighs, but then he changes his tune. “Wait, he KNOWS?!”

[cyb-by-lang]

Shell Game (7/?)

Look, at least she still has her lunch money.

Everyone did make it out alive, somehow. With Nōmu knocked down to half effectiveness due to missing half his brain and therefore not being able to use both hands, punching him out of the dome in the other direction apparently worked out great even with his kinetic energy shenanigans. Obito ditched almost immediately after both Kei and Nōmu were forcibly removed from the building, saying after the fact that he cared more about her than the mission if the World Symbol of Peace was gonna act like that. Also, there was a decent chance he was next on the to-punch list.

And then the rest of the teachers arrived and Smokey the Bartender and Facepalm-kun made a rather abrupt exit, ditching everyone on their end too. Or so Kei heard.

Obito was good at gathering information when he wanted to be. He even knew that Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen had been packed up into an ambulance. Past that, though, he’d lost track of details (like All Might) due to not giving a shit.

“I can’t believe he fucking punched you,” Obito groused once they were both safe in the Kamui pocket. He’d had to dig Kei out of a trench fifteen meters long and resented this fact quite a bit.

“It still happened,” Kei said, wincing as Obito checked the massive bruise blooming along her entire left side. She’d changed back into her UA uniform and wasn’t looking forward to having to trudge back to 1-C to collect her stuff while dealing with this kind of injury. More annoyingly, she wasn’t quite sure if Isobu’s passive healing would deal with this before tomorrow. “Ow.”

“Isn’t there someone on site who can deal with this?” Obito asked. “Like a nurse or something.”

Kei ran through the list of staff and faculty in her head, then said, “Yeah. Drop me back at the school.”

“You sure?”

“Technically, the day’s over, but the nurse should still be there.” Kei bit back a sigh, because it hurt to breathe too deeply. “The principal’s office would make a nice waypoint.”

Obito did as she asked, frowning the entire time. Kei carefully kept a Transformation jutsu going in the somewhat-empty halls until she reached the nurse’s office, appearing for all intents and purposes to be a school janitor. It wasn’t until she was just about to enter the room that she resumed her normal form. Ish.

The school’s nurse was a tiny, nice lady who went by Recovery Girl. Kei didn’t bother to ask her real name, since no one else ever seemed to care. She was learning more every day, really.

“Dare I ask how you got hurt?” Recovery Girl asked, but more in a perfunctory way than because she genuinely wanted to know.

“You should see the other guy,” Kei said, and was careful not to move as the nurse literally kissed her injuries better. Fascinating, and likely to make Rin want to take notes. She always wanted to know about new healing techniques, even if she couldn’t personally make use of them.

“I’m sure I don’t want to.” Recovery Girl huffed, then said. “Please take a seat. You’re going to feel the exhaustion set in shortly.”

Kei obeyed, because fighting with medics was an excellent way to end up with a sedative in the ass. She noted distantly that the nearest bed had its curtains drawn, for whatever good that would so. Presumably the occupant was asleep.

The second, however?

“Gekkō-san!” said Midoriya, looking astonished. And remarkably intact for a kid who’d broken at least a few bones today. Horribly.

“Hello, Midoriya-san.” Kei gave up on meditating. She could make an itemized mental list of everything that had gone wrong today sometime later. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, yeah!” He flexed his toes. “Recovery Girl fixed me right up. It only took like a minute.” He paused, fidgeting in place a little. After spending a few seconds working up courage, he managed to say, “Um. What happened to you?”

“I got punched by someone with a strength-enhancing Quirk,” Kei said blandly. Statements like that had the benefit of being true while also wonderfully misleading if she tacked some mild observations on the end. When Midoriya’s jaw dropped, Kei added dutifully, “He didn’t get my wallet, though. Small victories.”

All Might hadn’t been looking for her wallet. It’d been in the classroom the entire time, too. So, ha.

“WH-WHA-WHAT KIND OF TRADE-OFF IS THAT?!” Midoriya stammer-shouted. An odd combination, but it suited him. “You—uh, you’re supposed to report muggers and purse-snatchers!”

“Didn’t have time,” Kei told him, and sighed deeply. Which didn’t hurt. Hooray.

“Don’t do that with broken ribs, please,” Recovery Girl fussed, and Kei froze in place. “They’re not set yet, even with my Quirk.”

“Sorry,” Kei muttered.

“Y-you had broken ribs?!” Midoriya squeaked.

“Oh, come on,” Kei deflected. “Cracked at most.”

Recovery Girl frowned. “They were broken, Gekkō-kun.”

“W-wow, uh, I guess General Studies students have it rough, too?” Poor kid. Still trying to make small talk. “I wonder if it’s related to the attack today? Villains have been getting a lot more bold lately, and they were talking about a League of Villains. Maybe if they’re organizing, there’ll be a way for pros to get on top of them? But if it was that easy, they would have already done it!” Or not.

Um…

He sounds like you, but less snide.

“Midoriya-san?” Kei prompted gently. “Did something happen today?”

“Oh, uh…” There was a wet cough from the other bed with suspicious timing, and Midoriya immediately changed whatever he’d been about to say to, “Um, you’ll probably see it on the news.”

Great. “All right. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“I-It’s fine! It’s only fair to be curious. I would be.” Midoriya glanced down. “You know, Gekkō-san? You’re actually pretty nice.”

Kei did her best not to make any kind of dismissive noise. “Kind of you to think so, Midoriya-san.”

“And I don’t believe the rumors about you at all!” Midoriya continued, hitting his stride. “Um, just keep your head up. I don’t know if you want to be a hero, or really anything, but you can’t let other people tell you what you can and can’t do! Don’t let anyone bother you!”

Great. Now I have to pay attention to a high school rumor mill.

Since when have we ever?

Point.

Kei made a neutral noise, then said, “I think ‘not letting anyone bother me’ is how I got landed here.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

At that point, their conversation was interrupted by a phone call on the nurse’s office landline. Immediately, Kei and Midoriya snapped their mouths shut as Recovery Girl took the call.

“Mm-hm. All right. I understand. I’ll send her right to you.” And then the phone was back in the cradle. “Gekkō-kun, the principal wants to see you in his office.”

Kei dropped her head into her hands with as much drama as possible. “Here we go again…”

“You’ll be okay!” Midoriya tried to assure her.

“Thanks, Midoriya-san, but that’s a little too optimistic.” She waved over her shoulder as she left, though. “Later.”

It wasn’t until Kei arrived to speak to Principal Nezu, carefully ensconced behind his massive desk, that her frustration finally peaked.

So, in the most tactful way possible (and with one arm pointing squarely in the direction of the USJ), she snapped, “That is never happening again.”

“Agreed,” said the principal.

[slothgiirl]

blinding part 1 (a theo raeken/reader story)

mariella gallagher, lydia’s younger cousin, has always had a soft spot for theo raeken, and now that they’ve brought him back to help, she can’t seem to help herself when it comes to him. it also doesn’t help that she’s slowly losing her grip on whatever powers she has as an empath. 

ao3 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5

“So why can’t I go with you exactly,” I asked Lydia after she was done explaining the plan to everyone except Hayden and Mason who were actually in class like they ere supposed to be. If my aunt wasn’t faculty who knows how we would be getting away with suddenly leaving class, ditching class, and arriving late all the time. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather go with you.”

Just the thought of encountering the ghost riders again was enough to make me want to vomit. And seeing as Scott and his packs whole m.o. was to run towards danger instead of away, we would probably run into them sooner rather than later.

My cousin sighed impatiently, “because we don’t know what we’ll find at Caanan. At least here we know what we’re dealing with.”

“Even if we don’t know how to deal with it yet,” Malia said with a scowl.

“I’d still rather take my chances with whatever you find there than the ghost riders.”

Kira threw an arm around my shoulder, smiling as reassuringly as she could after the ghost riders had taken a whole party full of teenagers down in the bunker and none of us had been able to do anything to stop them, “don’t worry Mari, I’ll protect you. I won’t let them come near you.”

“And you’ve got Liam,” Scott said smiling at his beta.

“Just hurry back,” Liam told him, “we’re stronger together.”

“Hell yeah,” Malia grinned.

*

I took my seat next to Kira in art, happy to be able to phone in this class. Ever since the ghost rider’s showed up I’d been jumpy and stressed and I kept scratching at my arms. What made it worse was I could feel how freaked out the rest of the pack was.

It was almost enough to make me want to take my meds again.

Almost.

“You wanna talk about it,” Kira asked, not looking up from her painting. Her still life wouldn’t have looked out of place in a gallery. Meanwhile I was still cleaning up all my sketch lines and pretending that I knew how to shade objects.

I shrugged, “it’s fine. We’ll figure this out soon and then-“

“Don’t say that. If you’re not okay then talk to me about it,” she told me, looking over at me, “maybe it won’t solve anything but you might feel a little better.”

Sighing, I put my charcoal, giving up on getting any work done when I could barely keep my hand steady. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about it, but the only person that I had ever felt comfortable talking to about my so called powers, that were completely useless and more of a pain in the ass than anything, had turned out to be a horrible person and was now rotting wherever the skin walkers had dragged him down into.

“Mari?”

Her concern was warm, gently waving towards me, the mental equivalent of a hug. I might as well. “I’ve just never not sensed something from anything. But the ghost riders,” my voice broke, remembering the events from the bunker, “there was nothing there. Nothing. Like they weren’t alive, at least not in any sense of the word I know.”

“I thought they were going to take me,” I tell her, looking down at my feet as I wipe the welling tears from my eyes. “I mean at least you can all fight or do something. I just feel so useless sometimes. Like I can sense what people are feeling, even catch some thoughts if it’s a strong emotion but that’s it.” Hell, werewolves could sense emotions by smelling the air or scent or chemosignals whatever those were.

Her concern spiked, intertwining with a tinge bitter guilt.Kira leaned over and squeezed my shoulder, “but they didn’t get you. And you’re not useless. You’re kind and gentle and you calmed Liam down, anchor-less Liam and Malia. Like made them calm down.”

“Stiles can help Malia calm down.”

Kira rolled her eyes, going back to her painting, “just take the damn compliment.”

I laughed, “still think your kitsune abilities are way cooler.”

“You wouldn’t if you were the one training with my mom. I wish I could montage through all the five in the morning wake up calls.”

We both laughed.

“Mariella? Kira? Please be mindful of the noise level in here,” Mrs. Sanchez called out to us.

We both nodded.

When I went to pick up my slab of charcoal, my hand was steady enough to risk my sketch.

*

“So Scott leaves and you immediately decide to try and catch a ghost rider,” I ask Liam and Hayden skeptically.

“We can’t just sit around and do nothing,” Liam said defensively.

“Well you can all try and do that,” I said, “I’m going to go to therapy and not deal with any of this and especially not go looking for trouble.”

“Trouble kind of already fund us Mariella,” Mason said gently, “and we need to figure out how to stop them. If we catch one we could figure out what they want and make them leave.”

Which made sense even if their plan was insane and they still had no way to channel that much lightning at once. “Okay,” I admitted, “but I still want no part of this.”

“Couldn’t you do it,” Hayden asked Kira as she walked up to us gathered around Liam and Mason’s lockers. “I mean you are a lightning kitsune aren’t you,” she clarified raising an eyebrow.

“Thunder,” Kira corrected, “and yes I could if we had a few decades for me to learn how to channel that much lightning at once.”

“Sorry,” she added, looking around at us, her shame and insecurity leeched into the air, “but I just don’t have the training yet.”

“Yet,” I said, hoping to reassure her. Her mom was a thousand years old, Kira had plenty of time to get all her nine tails and become an amazing thunder kitsune.  

“Sure you’re alright going by yourself,” she asked me, changing the subject.

I shrugged. It was pointless to lie when three of use were supernatural creatures who could hear someone’s heart speed up when they lie, so why bother. “I’ll live.”

“Corey and I could go with you,” Mason offered. “Safety in numbers and all that.”

“See,” I said throwing the rest of them a pointed look, “it’s not just me.” They’re all werewolves and suddenly they think horror movie logic of splitting up and dying doesn’t apply to them.

“Not like you can drive,” Liam said shamelessly.

“I was nervous,” I protested for what had to be the thousandth time, “and the dude was an asshole, he wanted to fail me.”

“Didn’t Lydia say you ran a stop sign?”

I groaned, “it wasn’t even my idea to get my driver’s license. I don’t even want to drive. You don’t let crazy people drive cars.”

Mason grins, “but you’re not actually crazy.” Which was true. It turned out that everything that every psychiatrist had chalked up to hallucinations and paranoia was actually true.

“I thought I was!”

*

Miss Morell smiled sharply as I took a seat on her couch. “I’m assuming you’re still off you’re medication.”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling guilty about it all over again. “I just feel better without it. And I’ve only had one migraine this week so progress,” I told her twiddling my hands. “I mean I should eventually start to be able to block people out. . .right?”

“And if you are not able to block people out,” Miss Morell asked the question that had kept me up so often over the last few months, “what will you do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I mean I don’t want to always have to deal with people’s emotions in my head. When someone around me gets really sad it makes me sad, their emotions bleeding into mine and I hate that. It scares me. But I also  don’t want to spend the rest of my life dazed from taking anti-psychotics. No combination of pills felt right. Some were really bad and this last one muted things pretty well but I still felt wrong.”

It made being around Liam hard. No one ever knew what would set him off and I hated how I could feel his anger well up inside my throat like it was my own.

How I could feel my lab partner’s anxiety and nausea turn to stress the longer I sat there next to him, all my own thoughts magnified in funhouse mirrors until I was stressing over whether I had remembered to write my name on the test even though I knew I had. Over whether any of my friends in Beacon hills were really my friends or if they were just being nice to Lydia’s cousin.

“Have you considered a solution that isn’t on on end or the other,” Miss Morell asked, her emotions as remote as she herself could be, a god deigning mortals with her presence.

“What do you mean?”

“You could take a low dose,” she explained, “just enough to keep your own mental health intact without cutting yourself off from your own abilities.”

“I don’t know,” I said, thinking about how excited I had been when I realized that the connection went both ways. Their emotions could bled into my own, but I could also influence people’s emotions.

Would I lose all the progress I had made?

“You don’t have to make any choices now,” Miss Morell said smiling for the first time since I’d arrived, “Just something to think about. I’ll see you next week?”

“Yes.”

Because I had to go to therapy. It had been one of my dad’s conditions of coming to live with my aunt instead of spending my time going in and out of a psychiatric ward.

*

Third wheeling to Corey and Mason wasn’t actually bad. It certainly didn’t feel as much as third wheeling to Malia and Stiles had been or Scott and Kira. Liam and Hayden were just a nightmare of too much PDA.

They also didn’t even bring up the ghost riders even once which immediately made me love them. We hadn’t spent much time together seeing as I was a year older and had spent most of my last year in Beacon hills in a hazy fog of anti-psychotics in hopes of shutting everything out.

“Don’t hate me,” Mason said, as Corey chose a song off his phone, “but I think Troye Sivan is massively overrated.”

“No,” Corey protested, “that’s just-you’re wrong.”

“You can’t tell me I’m wrong just because I don’t care for his music. I’m entitled to my opinion especially when my opinion is right.”

“Doesn’t make it an opinion then does it,” Corey quipped back and I tried to block out the nauseatingly sweet smell of fondest and love that filled up the car. I take it back, Corey and Mason are just as bad as the other couples although Lydia and Stiles are mostly pop rocks and something refined like channel no. 5 so it really wasn’t bad.

Corey played a song before turning to look at me, “what do you think Mariella?”

“I-“

“You’ve got to listen to the whole song first to get the full experience.”

“Okay,” I told him, “but I can already tell you it sounds fine but I probably wouldn’t go out of my way to listen to it again.”

“Told you,” Mason laughed.

Corey shook his head, “you two have no taste.”

“Oh I think I have plenty of taste,” Mason replied looking over at his boyfriend.

Corey blushed, his face achieving the level of pink many beauty youtubers could only hope to replicate, “I think you mean I have great taste.”

I popped my earbuds in and raised the volume as high as it would go hoping to block them out as they drove to go drop me off at my aunts house. Six months and I still hadn’t gotten any better at blocking people out. Lydia wasn’t even sure if I could.

I sighed and stared out the window.

[teresa60521-blog]

Side Effects

chapter 25: 8 months

Getting back on her feet was not easy. It had been a month since the Sports Festival incident and even summer break didn’t really do much to help her recover. Her memory and vital functions were all intact yet some days Uraraka felt like she was moving through molasses. She relied on Bakugou on those days, whether it be with Kazumi or just generally supporting her, mentally and physically.

Bakugou’s guilt was haunting him. Uraraka wasn’t mad about what had happened; it was an accident, she understood. Bakugou never meant any harm when he screamed “ DIE ” and he certainly would never direct at her literally. She should’ve been on guard more. Nobody could have predicted that she would get hurt the way she did.

“I’m sorry.” Bakugou had said when she was lucid enough that afternoon.

Uraraka had squeezed his hand reassuringly while Recovery Girl had checked her. “It’s not your fault.”

“Fuck yes it is.” His eyes were ablaze and his grip had tightened to a point where it hurt. She had hissed in pain and he quickly retracted his hands, looking at them like they were foreign objects. He had retreated after that, the door slamming shut behind him before Uraraka even had the chance to comfort him.

“Boys,” Recovery Girl had shaken her head, instructing Uraraka to open her eyes wide so she could check them. Bakugou never returned, pouting in the classroom until it was ready to go home.

Kazumi was hysterical that day, only calming when she was finally in Uraraka’s arms. Her grip was so tight that Uraraka knew she would have an iron fist just like her daddy when she was grown up. Uraraka hated that she had cost her daughter so much pain when her little mind could barely even register what missing somebody was actually like. She had quieted her sobs in her bedroom, cradling her to her chest and whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It took everything in her not to cry with Kazumi. Bakugou kept his distance, though he watched over them with a guarded look in his eyes.

Going back to school that September after a break was not an easy feat. She didn’t know why she expected it to be one. Especially since she was called back into the Principal’s office. Her absolute favorite place to be. She had never been so in touch with the higher ups of a school in her life.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Principal?” Uraraka knocked on the door and when prompted she slipped inside.

“Ah, yes, Uraraka-chan, please sit!” The Principal was sitting on his throne-like chair sipping tea. She sat primly across from him and tried not to make direct eye contact. She hated doing that in the first place, but it was a lot more intimidating when the Principal did nothing but smile.

“I wanna talk about your performance at the Sports Festival.”

The room grew impossibly thicker with tension and heat, Uraraka already sweating bullets. She was worried about what he would say next, whether or not it would be something positive. She wasn’t entirely sure he was going to be nice about it.

“A lot of the faculty here at UA have a hard time believing that you have proven you can still be a hero after having a child.” Uraraka closed her eyes. That was something she never thought she would here.

“I don’t know what to say to that, Mr. Principal.”

“Well, I suppose nothing! Haha!” The Principal cackled and loudly slurped his tea. Uraraka wanted to throw the glass, and him, against the wall. Repeatedly. Maybe she wouldn’t hold Bakugou back anymore about harming the animal in front of them. But then again, she didn’t want to be the reason Bakugou was expelled.

They had been there and almost done that, and they were holding onto every last thread they had to stay at Yuuei. Uraraka’s was thinning rapidly.

“Well, it was not all of them that suggested this.” The Principal sighed, “Eraserhead and All Might see great potential in you, Uraraka-chan. I have gotten many calls from Gunhead as well, and he’s said the same thing. Even if you were to walk away right now I think you could find a place in his firm.” There was a subtle threat in there somewhere, Uraraka could feel it.

“I am the Principal, as you know. So I have the last word,” if he could fold his hands together he would have but he only smiled foolishly at her. Uraraka braced herself. “I was going to let you go, tell you to pack your things up, but I don’t think I can justify it with one performance! Lucky you!”

Then why did you call me here? To make me feel bad about myself? Her thoughts grumbled to her. He had probably called her here so she would make the decision to leave herself. That way he wouldn’t look like the bad guy. Every meeting with the Principal just solidified her hatred for him more and more. Uraraka did not hate people that often but he really took the cake.

“Thank you, Mr. Principal.” She stood up and bowed towards him, fists tight at her side. She lowered her pride to do this. “I will work extremely hard to prove to you and the other faculty members that I have what it takes to be a great hero.”

“You are dismissed.” The Principal’s voice sounded strained, confirming her suspicions. Uraraka turned and as the door shut behind her, she smiled to herself. Talk about sticking it to the man.

She had a spring in her step as she walked towards the cafeteria, but was caught off guard when a hand grabbed her elbow and dragged her into an empty hallway.

“Jeez, you scared me.” She slapped Bakugou in the chest and resisted the urge to rest her palm there.

Bakugou scoffed. “What’d the rat say?”

“He was going to kick me out of the school.” Uraraka explained with her arms crossed over her chest. “My performance at the sports festival wasn’t impressive to him and he said a lot of the faculty didn’t believe I could be a hero and a mother at the same time. Sexist bastards.” Uraraka rarely cursed but she was fuming. The fire coursed through her veins and spread until her head was buzzing with fury. She wondered if this was how Bakugou felt all the time.

“I’ll fucking kill him.” Bakugou snarled and looked in the direction of the hallway, palms popping.

“Aizawa-sensei and All Might saved me though. They told him that they believed in me. Can you believe that? All Might?” Uraraka smiled slightly. “Gunhead too. He called the Principal and said nice things about me.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they were going to kick you out of school. What the fuck is that about? That’s such bullshit! You held your own! It was my damn fault that you were hurt in the first place.” Bakugou slammed his fist against the wall and didn’t so much as grimace. He touched her cheek with his free hand, palms still a little damp with nitroglycerin from the explosion. Uraraka leaned into his touch, ignoring the chemical.

“You’re gonna show all those motherfuckers they’re wrong, yeah?” Bakugou lowered his forehead to hers. It reminded her of when she gave birth to Kazumi, looking into his eyes and telling him and herself that she was strong enough to do this.

“Yeah.” She said confidently and smiled at him. Bakugou grinned, a bit lopsided but it was a grin. Then he kissed her in the darkened hallway; it was almost comical how romantic is seemed to be.

When they parted, Uraraka didn’t want to go to the cafeteria. She wanted to stay in their own little world together, in this hallway. It was them against the world there. At least, that’s how she felt.

“We should eat.” Uraraka said, taking his hand and dragging him out of the hallway.

Of course they were teased for “taking so long” when they got back to the cafeteria. The banter mostly came from Kirishima and Kaminari, Sero joining in when he saw fit. The two of them (Bakugou and Uraraka) hadn’t known when it happened but the two of their groups had slowly began to merge tables, Midoriya sitting at the far end with Todoroki, while Bakugou sat with Uraraka at the opposite end. She loved that they could all get along (mostly) and genuinely enjoyed the “idiot” trio’s company. Kirishima had her crying laughing more times than she could count.

“Okay, but when are we going to be over to see that baby of yours? I miss her! I gotta be the best uncle.” Kirishima asked and grinned.

“You’re welcome whenever you want.” Uraraka said. It was a little bit of a lie. With her head still a little bit iffy, headaches and migraines were more frequent. But she would just pawn them off on Bakugou if she could.

“Um, I think the fuck not.” Bakugou shook his head. “I don’t want you asswipes in my house ever again.”

“Aw come on man, last time it was fun! We got you a gift!” Kaminari whined.

“Yeah and we had clean your shit up when you all left.” Bakugou snapped.

Iida cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but Midoriya and I helped.”

“Yeah and that’s all you’re good for.” Bakugou grumbled.

“Don’t be such a grumpy pants, man.” Kirishima clapped him on the back. “We’ll bring snacks and we can watch your kid for you! You don’t look like you sleep enough. Babies are supposed to scream all night, right?”

“You have no idea.” Uraraka cut in before Bakugou could give a sarcastic response. She could use the help and she really did want to get Kazumi used to being around more people. Kazumi was growing to be a little bit a show off, crawling all over the place and picking things up that she shouldn’t. She was definitely Bakugou’s child in that sense. Mitsuki had showed her tons of pictures of a baby Katsuki getting into places that he was not supposed to be. Like cabinets. Or the toilet.

Uraraka had asked for a personal copy of that one. Bakugou was less than pleased.

“I don’t give a shit if we need the help, you’re not gonna fucking babysit. Ever.” Bakugou ran his fingers through his hair.

Kirishima pouted. “I’d be a great babysitter!”

“Yeah? You gonna change her diaper?”

Kirishima blanched.

Bakugou snorted in triumph. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Hair for Brains.”

“We can just hang out though! All of us! And the baby.”

“Maybe not all of you…” Uraraka didn’t want to overwhelm Kazumi too much. A good three or four people coming over at a time wouldn’t be too bad. But more than that would result in a cranky Kazumi. She wasn’t too good with social interactions yet and Uraraka was determined to not have her daughter end up like Bakugou in that regard. Hating everybody. She wanted her daughter to be able to make more friends than enemies.

Bakugou was actually doing well in that regard lately though. He no longer complained about Uraraka’s group of friends sitting with them at lunch. Most of the time anyway.

“You guys can come over today,” Bakugou huffed, “if you fucking promise not to do anything stupid while Kazumi is around.”

Kirishima, Kaminari, and Sero all swore on their hearts that they wouldn’t do “anything stupid.” Whatever that meant. Though some promises were meant to be broken and Uraraka had no doubt that something would definitely go wrong that afternoon. She was just glad that she would miss the disaster (hopefully) as she had her internship with Gunhead.

She definitely felt like she was improving in that regard and was glad that Gunhead had vouched for her. It was still unbelievable that All Might had as well but she felt a sense of honor that not many other people could say they’ve felt. The former number one hero was still an important figure in any aspiring hero’s life and All Might was one of her many inspirations.

Her session with her pro hero went well that day. She was feeling good about it. Uraraka was getting better at being able to defend herself and being on the offensive. She’d landed a bunch of hits on the other interns and Gunhead himself.

“I’m so glad to see your progress, Uraraka-chan!” Gunhead praised. “Don’t forget to send me cute pictures of that munchkin of yours!” Uraraka could practically see the cutesy background fluttering around him. She made the promise with a smile and a nod and went to change back into her uniform. She kind of hoped her friends weren’t still at their (yeah, their ) house when she got back because she was sweaty and tired and just wanted to be with her boyfriend and her daughter.

But, that was not what she got.

Instead Uraraka was greeted first by the image of Bakugou looking a mix of distressed and pissed and Uraraka immediately thought something was wrong. She dropped her bag and rushed into the room, searching frantically for Kazumi. She didn’t hear crying, but Kazumi wasn’t much of a crier in the first place. If she was hurt though, then Uraraka figured she would cry.

Uraraka found none of that. Instead, all she found was Bakugou and Kirishima in the living room. Kirishima was the one with Kazumi in his arms. He was looking down at her in wonder as she smushed her cheek against his shoulder and slept peacefully. Uraraka wondered how long he had been in that position.

“Where are Kaminari-kun and Sero-kun?” Uraraka asked slowly, not taking her eyes off of Kirishima. Bakugou didn’t either.

“Pikachu fucking zapped her so I kicked him and Plain Face out.”

“He let me stay because Nugget cried when I left her.” Kirishima added with a smile.

Bakugou snarled. “Do not fucking call her that.”

“You call her that!” Kirishima was pouting.

“She’s my goddamn daughter I can call her whatever I want! You’re just some asshole who would’ve cried if I didn’t let you come over!” Bakugou shouted and went to lunge to grab Kazumi from him but Uraraka touched him with her quirk, shoving him away from her. Bakugou slowly floated away from them. “Ochako!”

Uraraka and Kirishima shared coy smiles as she released him.

“I’m not just some guy, I’m your best friend!”

“I need a new best friend.”

“Okay, okay,” Uraraka said and sat beside Kirishima, holding her hands out for the baby. Kazumi was laid in her arms and she adjusted her comfortably. “No fighting.”

“She crawled right into my lap.” Kirishima explained to her softly. Bakugou moved so he was sitting on Uraraka’s other side, looking down at Kazumi.

Bakugou snickered. “She started chomping on his hair.”

“It was fine!” Kirishima grinned. “She thought it was a snack. It was cute. She’s cute. You guys made one cute baby. You should make more!”

“Uh.” Bakugou and Uraraka replied with dumbfounded looks on their faces. Bakugou’s twisted up into one which she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

“I don’t think we’re ready for that yet. Kazumi is a lot. Especially at our age.”

Kirishima hummed and nodded, a dopey smile on his face. They sat in silence for a little bit, backs pressed against the couch. Why they were sitting on the floor Uraraka didn’t know but she was comfortable and Kazumi seemed comfortable sleeping with her head smashed between her arm and Uraraka’s breast so it was fine.

“Do you regret it all?” Kirishima asked finally.

Uraraka pondered this for a moment. At first, in the first few months of her pregnancy, yes. She regretted getting involved with Bakugou and allowing herself to have sex when maybe she wasn’t ready. When was anybody truly ready to have sex?

Not to say that it wasn’t consensual because it 100% was, but mentally it was a lot to handle. For her at least. She was sure it was fine for other people.

But as her belly started to grow and she and Bakugou worked things out, she liked their set up. She loved waking up to have Bakugou still sneaking into her room and sleep in the same bed as her. Then there was turning over and seeing a beautiful baby girl whose hair was growing in more and more each day. Soft tufts of blonde hair like daddy, round and rosy cheeks like mommy.

Uraraka smiled at the redhead. “Nope. Not at all.”

[canadiansteroidssupplier-blog]

Steroids Canada

The Fountain of Youth & Your Hormones

Every person has heard of the mythical "Eternal youth", however very few realize that it actually does exist. And also even fewer realize that it exists inside each people. Yes, it exists best within you, just waiting to be turned on !! Juan Ponce de Leon, the Spanish traveler sailed around the Florida shore searching for the legendary "Eternal youth" ... the trick to being young again for life. That was 5 a century ago, basically. Ever since modern day 'travelers', in the type of researchers, have actually been proceeding the pursuit for the keys to attain eternal youth These researchers have found that at the core of the fountain of youth is the body's.

Shop Steroids Online In Canada

hormonal or neuro endocrine system, the cumulative name appointed to the glands and also body organs that. manufacture hormonal agents within our bodies. Aging is a procedure that takes place to everybody. Typically around thirty to thirty-five years old, we. begin to notice the very first indications of aging, the strands of gray hair, the strengthening of. expression lines (the pre-cursor to creases), the small sagging of face functions, the progressive. loss of skin flexibility as collagen formation declines. As the years roll by, this aging process. proceeds inexorably - stiffer joints, dimmer vision, loss of taste buds, gray hair, much less sex drive! As we see the same point happening to our friends and family we approve it as all-natural and also. inevitable. We start to approve our declining faculties as being nature's method, as well as begin thinking about. ourselves as old.The change in mental point of view additionally accelerates the process. As well as, as we. search in the mirror, year after year, we slowly begin to look, really feel as well as act considerably older,. our attitude showing our mirror picture.

Buy Canadian Steroids Online

Today, modern technology as well as clinical developments have actually made it feasible to live a lot longer, leading to. an aging of the population - there are much more 'seniors' in our culture than in the past. In. truth, average long life has actually increased around the world because the beginning of the 20th century. In the U.S longevity has actually raised by as long as 25 years,. Nonetheless, sadly, the factor that has actually not altered is the variety of years one needs to live. with age-related disability. It is still an average of ten years for a lot of us. Can we decrease, or. eliminate totally this period of decrepitude from our lives? There is no question that each. one of us, man and woman, would love to live our sixties, seventies and eighties with looks,. wellness and also vigor intact. Neither do we like the suggestion of shedding any of our professors or detects. The fountain of youth was attended be the solution, making it a life-and-death (literally) quest considering that. time immemorial ... Juan Ponce de Leon et al. ... and also it stays as important today. Individuals stop. at absolutely nothing in their efforts to combat aging, and to consume from the fountain of youth. So much. so, that it has actually become somewhat of a chimera. There are diet regimens created to combat as well as reverse. aging, cardio-vascular workouts do the same, the brain is kept young by 'challenging' it, viagra. assurances peak sexual efficiency, HRT promises relief from pre and post menopausal. issues, aesthetic firms produce creams and also creams to build collagen, ... one can go.

Buy Legal Online Steroids In Canada

on and on!!! In differing degrees, they all work! But think about HOW they work! Diet plans and cardio-vascular exercises function by regulating the body's usage of power. Known as metabolic process, it is a complex communication of chemical conversions that occur. consistently in order to generate energy and keep the body at optimal degree. Control of the whole. procedure depends on the hormonal (neuroendocrine) system. The difficulty element cheer up secretions of the hormonal agent adrenaline ... the body's olden. feedback to any type of kind of tension or hazard is manufacturing of greater dosages. The skin is kept hydrated. by secretions of oil and also sweat-producing hormones, as well as the entire process of sexuality and also. recreation is hormone-induced, as well as starts from the hormone (neuroendocrine) system. Therefore, through training course of diets, exercises, creams and supplements you take care of to maintain your. body and mind in peak condition. What takes place when you obtain a bout of the 'influenza'? Without the. help of the thymus and your body immune system your body might simply pack it in!! The hormone system has a finger in every pie! Does the idea appear rather mystical? Do you. think I am overplaying the duty of the endocrine glands? Consider the facts. Filter with records on one of the most present study going on in this area. Much of the anti-aging trial and error being conducted in different labs around the. world, is gotten in touch with intake of hormonal supplements. HGH (human development hormonal agent). and DHEA, both prominent experimental therapies being used presently, are only. hormones. And undeniably they generate benefits, although it is most likely too early to. establish if they create any their attendant negative effects. Then again there is much study linked to making use of release elements or 'releasers',. where, rather than consuming supplements, one would ingest releasers, which would trigger the. glands right into releasing hormonal agents. Such experiments are still at a beginning, and also not much is. known about the consequent negative effects, if any kind of.

If You Want To Know More About: https://themusclemass.com/buy-steroids-edmonton/

Actually, this very concept of hormonal flow seems to have been understood to the Himalayan people. in ancient times, as well as develops the basis of the Tibetan yoga exercise renewal as well as anti aging strategy. They seem to have means ahead of us in their knowledge. They knew, 4000 years ago, how to. press the switch that would certainly cause the body to generate its very own all-natural releasers, as opposed to depend. on artificial synthetic ones. This, then, is the expertise made public by the Tibetan restoration. yoga exercise technique.

[arse-blathanna]

always at your six - 1/?

Chapter 1: the joker and the thief

[Ao3] [Fic Tag]

Fic Summary: The Mother of Invention went down barely a year ago, and the time in between has been rough for York and Delta. It's been tough for Tex too, but she has information, and she needs someone to help her get some things before someone can beat her to it. 

It's a good thing York's out of work. 

Rating: M

Relationships: Eventual York/Tex/Delta. 

Characters: York, Tex, Delta

Tags: Transhumanism, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Background Relationships

Word Count: 7,148

Author’s Notes: This is the single most self-indulgent thing that I have ever written in my life and I absolutely refuse to apologize for it. 

Anyways, I’ve always been really interested on the potential of the human/ai relationship, and then how that would play in with other ai and robotic bodies and... then this happened. 

This fic will update once a month on every 22nd. 

At close to ten at night on a frigid Saturday night, York was tired. The sort of bone-deep, ready-to-drop-dead exhaustion that made doing much of anything feel impossible.

There were a lot of things about life on the run that he didn’t like. He didn’t like that he’d spent almost all day dodging the police, or the owner of a shop he’d had to burgle the night before, or the guy that owned the rotting building he’d been squatting in for a few weeks.

[Read it on Ao3]

Resting was good when he could manage it, but when the space he had to rest in was far from anything that could be considered even remotely livable and he only had Delta for company, well-. Yeah, so it wasn't exactly much of a stretch to figure out why he felt like he needed a drink, or a shot of morphine in his veins, or something to make him feel a little bit more human than the husk that he feels like he’s been. Never mind that his eye had been giving him trouble all day, or that he hadn't been able to stop thinking about Freelancer for long enough to concentrate on much of anything. He couldn't really even act like he was okay anymore, not really. Mostly, he was really damn tired. And he needed a drink. 

‘This coping mechanism is unwise,’ Delta tells him with an unpleasant hum that almost starts to feel like it's resonating down York's spine. It comes with an involuntary twitch of one of the muscles at the back of his neck. It was never enough to show, but York knew well enough that it was one of Delta's favorite ways of showing he was serious. ‘Without your mental faculties fully intact-’ "It's just one drink, D." York mutters as he dips into the alleyway. Can't afford to look like he's a crazy person or something, talking to people that aren’t there. And going around claiming that he has any sort of AI in his head is capital D dumb. He's out of armor besides, no way for Delta to show his presence or project or anything like that. Not that any of those things would do anything to make their situation better. "It'll be fine." ‘Probabilities-’ "It's a big galaxy." York groans as he reaches into his jacket pocket, fishing around there for his lighter and a pack of cigaettes. At least he can try to take the edge off. "Nobody's gonna find us out here." ‘I still believe that this is unwise.’ "One beer and we'll be out of there." York says, feeling some exasperation. Delta picks up on that, and only answers him with yet another unpleasant hum. "Don't make me pull you." ‘I simply do not support this course of action’ Delta states before pulling back, zipping away along York's neural pathways to rest in his chip for the time being. York doubts that it'll last for long. Delta has a bit of a habit of butting in where he doesn’t need to be. It’s one of their few shared traits. But, peace was peace and York was going to let himself enjoy it while he had the chance. He pocketed the pack of cigarettes since it seemed like he didn't need to play like he was hiding out in an alleyway to smoke anymore. Instead, he made his way out of the alley and towards the bar before pulling the door open. It was, by all means, far from a good bar. It was far from the nightclub out on Reach where he'd gotten the lighter, where he’d met-

Bad train of thought, York scolded himself. He needed to focus on the there and now. Not before. Not when it left him feeling even worse.

The bar was the sort of place where there were probably rats in the kitchens and nobody cared either way. The kind of place that served pretzels so that they could legally be allowed to operate. The kind of place where all of the furniture was clearly branded for some alcohol company one way or another- Redds Star, or Blue’s Best, or something. For York, there was something about the inherent diveyness of the bar that made it feel almost homey. It was the sort of place where he would have once drank and passed out in the bathroom in many years before, three names ago and when he was a younger man. Back when he still had two eyes and his head was still single occupancy. There was that twitch at the back of his neck again, Delta's very own special way of saying I heard that. York shivers, trying his best to shake the sensation off before walking up to the bar and sliding into a seat at the far corner, where he could get a good view of the room. It doesn't take long before he has a cheap beer from a blue can and a small basket of pretzels in front of him. It feels like a meal for a king, all things considered. Pretty much the only days where York gets to eat a proper meal are the ones where he feels desperate enough to stick his fingers in places they don't belong. He'd hoped to leave petty theft behind when he joined Freelancer, but life didn't like it that way and York had to deal with that. He did his best not to. Instead, he'd go to bars like this one and hustle people at pool while using Delta to cheat because really, the two of them were so integrated at that point that it wasn't like people could even tell that it was Delta zipping up and down his nervous system instead of him in control. They couldn’t tell that York was getting exact angles and trajectories going through his head at any given second. As long as he didn't take on Delta's clipped tone when he talked, York was fine. Even if he might have ended up much more tired than normal because of it. York lets himself enjoy his drink. When the door opens with the sound of a quiet bell, he tries not to jolt his head up too much every time like he's checking for enemies. The last thing he needs is people having eyes on him, or figuring out that he’s paranoid. A woman enters the bar. She's out of armor, blonde hair and a face that's a little too familiar for York’s liking. She looks up and she sees him, and that's when York realizes that something was wrong. She begins to stalk towards him, in a way that manages to feel almost aggressive before dropping into the seat beside him at the bar. York glances over at her out of the corner of his eye. She'd sat on his right, and that alone was something to think about. He shrugs and drinks from his beer before speaking up. "Do I know you?" He asks, setting his drink back down in front of him. "You might." She responds. Her voice is familiar, and Delta's started to buzz in the back of York's head in that way that always manages to drive York crazy, and yeah, that's her for sure. "York." He smiles. "Allison." He responds, and is rewarded with another muscle twitch as a response. Delta's not happy about any of this, already bombarding York with commands for them to leave and get out before this can escalate. York tries to ignore it and continues. "Or is it Tex right now?" "Tex." She replies, hailing the bartender quickly and ordering two beers. One for each of them, and that's something that York wasn't expecting. He tries to mask his concerns and decides to do what he's the best at- talk. "Is it time for our yearly check-up?" He asks, picking up a few pretzels. "I promise I'm healthy." "You know I don't believe that shit, York," she responds, leaning forward against the counter with crossed arms. "I'm curious what you're doing out here though." "Oh you know," York sighs. "Drinking, working a desk job, jaywalking." He drinks from his new glass once it's there in front of him. "Nothing new."

Tex rolled her eyes, and York couldn't help the slight frown that slipped across his face as a response to it. "You don't believe me?" "No," Tex said, not laughing but smiling in that way that managed to always look bemused. "You're just a shit liar. Always have been." York sighed and leaned forward against the counter, trying his best to relax and make himself more comfortable. "Yeah, well..." His voice trailed off, and his good eye flicked away from the woman at his side. ‘This situation is not suitable’ Delta told him, and York rolled his eye and tried to ignore it. "Point is." York muttered as he drank from his glass once more. "It hasn't been great." Tex nodded and leaned back in her seat more. "You always come out here to drink?" "Nah," York said with a shrug. "Normally I look for company or hustle a pool table or something."   The bartender shot him a look as a response. York just looked back at the man with a look that managed to say are you really surprised and relaxed only once the attention was back away from himself. "Right." Tex muttered. "How about you and I finish our drinks, and then we can talk." ‘It would appear that Agent Texas has come seeking our assistance,’ Delta said calmly, and York couldn't help but to shiver slightly. ‘However, leaving yourself vulnerable to an attack from her in this way would be unwise. In combat, the chances of success against Agent Texas are miniscule.’ York grimaced, knowing that he was probably looking down at the table weird like he always did when he was talking to Delta. The only thing was that because the bar was a public place and he didn't want to come of as a crazy person, York wasn't going to respond. "Sounds good." York said, finishing off his drink and leaning against the counter. "I'm sure that you'll like my place. It's pretty good. Penthouse apartment." "Why do I doubt that?" Tex asked. "You never did have good taste." "Hey!" York exclaimed, feeling some offense for the comment. "I always had good taste." "Nah," Tex replied. "I think you lost it along with that eye of yours." ‘It would appear that Agent Texas is trying to antagonize you.’ Delta explained, still hanging there in the back of York's head in that way that managed to be almost comforting. York rolled his eye again. "You didn't know me before I lost my eye." York commented as he stood up, pulling his jacket back on. "But, I won't pretend like I would hate some extra company tonight. My roomate’s a bit of a prick." ‘York, this course of action is unwise.’ Tex smirked and downed the rest of her drink in one go before heading to the door with York. He pulled the door open for her and almost expected a punch for it when he held it, but Tex just gave him a look and made her way through before York followed his way out. The two of them didn't get far from the bar before York allowed himself to speak up again. "So," He asked. "What brings you looking for little old me anyways, Allison?" York asked. "I definitely wouldn't say it's your personality." Tex responded, rolling her eyes and shoving her hands down into her pockets. "I'm here because I need some help with something. I figured you or your little friend would be able to help." York got a pulse and a humming noise in his ears that he recognized as Delta's way of showing excitement. And yeah, it wouldn't have been the first time that Delta's little crush had come to the forefront in a conversation with Tex.

The first time had been barely a day or two after York had ended up with the AI in the first place. While York had been doing his best to go through the integration process and adapt to having another voice in his head, Delta had taken great interest in just about every everyone but York it had felt like. It hadn’t taken long at all for the AI to figure out that he was able to go rooting around in York’s memories, and once he’d figured that out it was done. York was suddenly having weird thoughts about Tex, or about Carolina, or even about some of the other agents around the project. All feelings and thoughts that weren’t his own, and yeah, that had gotten to be a bit much after a little while. Not that York ever let anyone else know that he was having that sort of problem with Delta on top of all of the other stuff. He needed to be focusing on headaches, not on what felt like Delta having a crush on Tex of all people. Now that York was out walking the streets with Tex and Delta and nobody else, he didn't quite know what to do. He couldn't exactly pretend like he hadn't missed her at all, because he had. Quite a bit, really. After all, what kind of guy would he be if he committed mutiny with a girl and immediately forgot about her, or never answered her calls? Not a good one, at least that was what York thought. It was the romantic in him- you don't just go and do something like that unless there was some sort of feeling attached to it. As weird as it may have seemed. But that isn't what York needs to be thinking about, he reminds himself as the three of them get closer to the apartment. Tex was there because he needed something from him, and he is going to find out what she needs even if it kills him. Tex is the first one to come and look for him in what feels like forever. York knows he won't say it out loud, and he's sure that Delta knows it too, but that alone inspires quite a bit of loyalty in him. But there's no time to think about that, because York is kneeling down in front of the door to his apartment and beginning to pick the lock as is routine. Usually once the owner figures out that someone is squatting in their building, he has to get back in the old fashioned way. The good thing is that after the incident with Wyoming he didn't lose his way with the old fashioned mechanical locks. "So this is your place?" Tex asks. She's there at York's six, kicking something over while she waits for him to get it open. "I thought you said that you had a place of your own." York just shrugs. "I didn't really specify, to be fair." He says calmly as he twists the doorknob and forces the way in for the two of them. Lucky for him, the apartment is just the way that he'd left it: more or less a complete dump, but whoever had cleared it out hadn't done a very good job since the strip of tape on the ceiling is still there where he'd hidden his armor away. Safe and sound, just like he'd left it.

Instead of lingering on it, York whorled around and gestured to the space around him as he retreated a bit deeper into the apartment. “Welcome to my humble abode.” He said calmly, smiling and dropping his hands back to his side. “If I’d known that I would have company I would have tried to clean up a little bit.” Tex just shot him a deeply unimpressed look that made York frown. ‘It would appear that Agent Texas does not find your living in poverty charming.’ “Yeah, I kind of got that, D.” York muttered under his breath, radiating annoyance. "Delta's talking to you?" Tex asked, deciding to step into the apartment finally and pulling the door shut behind her. She stretched and decided to make herself comfortable, dropping down onto the worn out box spring matress on the floor. "Yeah, it's a curse." York said as he walked towards the ammo box that made up most of his furniture. He slid it about a foot and a half to the left until he was under a specific ceiling panel before he stepped up on top of it and slid the panel out of the way. "He doesn't think I'm cute." "Can't really blame him for that." Tex quipped, leaning back in her seat. "I do really need your help with something though." "Yeah, I got that." York mumbled as he stepped back down with his helmet in his hands. He didn't think that he needed it for any protectional purposes, but having a way for Delta to be able to project wouldn't hurt. At the very least it would mean that he could stop sounding like he was just talking to himself. "It wouldn't hurt to know some of the details though." Tex sighed and shrugged, leaning back on the bed and resting her back against the wall behind her. "I need help getting into a place." She said, almost sounding completely distance in the process. "For work purposes." York paused, because somehow the idea that Tex might have found work somehow had never occured to him. If anything, it inspired a pang of jealousy that came accompanied by a twitch, courtesy of Delta. "Work, huh?" York asked. "Think you could get me a job?" It spills out before York even gets a chance to think about it, and that is a problem because while Tex can easily see that he is just managing to survive, telegraphing exactly how desperate he is still is a bad idea. After all, York knows that Tex could not only beat him easily, but she could also kill him even easier. Tex rolled her eyes though. "You should try handing out resumes instead of relying on connections, York."   York shrugged and made his way over to the mattress, because it isn't like he has anywhere else where he would be able to get comfortable. “You know, my dad always said that work was all about who you know instead of what you know.” He sets the helmet down between the two of them for Delta's sake, but can't help the feeling of disappointment that he gets as a result of the distance that he had no choice but to place between himself and Tex.   Tex isn't human and he knows that. He knows that she isn't the type to want to stay up late for grilled cheese sandwiches or to want to cuddle or talk about feelings. That's not Tex stuff, and goddamn if York doesn't feel like he needs those things. But Tex is the one that's there, not somebody else. And she is willing to be somewhat close to him.

York can't pretend as though there is nothing about that which is tempting. He can't pretend as though he doesn't want to reach out for Tex and pull her in close and wrap her around him so that he can feel something akin to a human touch. She isn't the real thing, and god if York doesn't know that. But still, he longs for her. ‘I suspect that Agent Texas would find these thoughts of yours unbecoming, Agent York.’ "It's just York," He mumbles, tilting his head back so that it can rest against the cool wall behind him. The cold hasn't exactly been York's friend lately, the same way that the weather or his wallet haven't been. It probably doesn't bother Tex. "I know your damn name, York." Tex says, looking at him like he has two heads. York wants to say something, but before he gets a chance to Delta decides to intervene, the little bastard. "Agent York appears to be suffering from a fit of madness." Delta begins his introduction, the green little cockbite. "You really must excuse him." York groaned and picked his hands up, pressing them over his eyes because he really doesn't want to have this conversation. Tex knows plenty about him, sure, but she doesn't need to know that he's been anywhere near as lonely as he really has been. That's York's business, and while he isn't alone on a tehnical level, Delta isn't the same as someone he can see face to face when he talks to them, and he can’t touch Delta. Tex though, she doesn't let what Delta just said slip by. She turns her head to glance at York, and he can't do much to stop the groan that escapes him. "What's the damage, York? You know I know you're a bad liar." But again, before York gets a chance to respond, Delta is taking the lead because he can read York's mind and this is his best chance to talk to the girl he likes. The asshole. "Agent York has been suffering from chronic feelings of loneliness since the crash of the--" "That's enough, Delta." York mutters, just loud enough that he knows that the other two can hear him. "C'mon, let the guy live in shame in peace." "Aww, York, have you been missing me?" Tex leans in towards him, not much care being paid towards his personal space. He can't complain though, because just having someone that doesn't want to kill him there in his place is a luxury in itself. "You should have called." "York being able to make a call would have been unlikely." Delta quips, his projection glowing green in the space between the two of them. York doesn't say much at first, just pouting as he curls up in his spot on his bed. He pulled his knees in towards himself and wrapped his arms around himself in a hug. "Just... not many people to talk to, you know. Since." He glues his gaze to a spot on the floor, since looking Tex in the eyes at the moment feels like it hurt a little too much. "And it isn't like D is a real boy that I can hug or cuddle or…” York shakes the thought before it can go much further than it already has. It’s already gone too far.

Tex is quiet for a minute that stretches on for an eternity too long, and York can all but feel his dignity die down in the pit of his stomach. He’s said too much, things that he wouldn’t have ever dared to even utter back in Freelancer because it was just… strange. For different reasons than what he now knew Tex had ended up wrapped up in without a choice in the matter. York looks away from her because he can’t stand the feeling that he’s judging her for much longer. He’s drowning and normally, normally Delta would have been there to help. He would have taken control in whatever little way he wanted to and helped put York back into line for their own sake because when they’re out in the field or trying to work they can’t afford for York to start getting panicky when he hears grenades go off or start babbling when he realizes he might be in trouble. It feels like that, the staticy feeling that takes over when he’s feeling the pressure. The kind that makes focusing on picking locks hard and makes his vision blur worse than it would normally. Finally, Tex lets out a noise, closing her eyes and tilting her head back again. "You know that normal people would just make friends, York. Or pick someone up at the bar, how often are you there anyways?" York shrugs and lets his head dip low. "It isn't that easy." He mumbles. "Not when I can't trust that I won't have to uproot in a day or two and run off to somewhere else. Shit, just being here-" York gestures with the wave of an open hand to the rest of the apartment. "I should be out of here tonight since the guy that owns the place locked me out. If he gets a whiff that I'm still here, it'll be cops and then-" York shrugs, because Tex is smart enough that she should be able to figure out the rest of that story. Tex just shakes her head though. "Delta." She says, and York feels that annoying pulse in his head nanoseconds before Delta is projecting out in front of the two of them again, lime green and bright. The color shouldn't be comforting at all, but York has gotten used to the color being the closest to having a home as he's going to get. "Is this all true?" "I am afraid so." Delta responds, his voice still in that regular monotone of his that York has started to find to be calming. It doesn't have the same warmth that FILSS' did, but York knew Delta. He knew the sarcasm and the humor that the AI possessed, and that he had feelings and was so much more than a shredded piece of logic like he'd been wrongfully characterized as.

That didn't mean that either of the two of them were good at having those feelings but for York just knowing that Delta was capable of emotions and could piece together social situations on his own was comforting. A safety net that he wasn't afraid to use. "Agent York and I have been doing our best to track Freelancer signals. We have changed base of operation on six different occasions this year, with an average of thirty four days between each move. There is a 78% probability that we will vacate the premises within three days in favor of a new location."

“So you two are homeless.” Tex comments, staring York down in a way that makes him want to shrink back.

York shrugs, reaching for the pocket in his jacket and fiddling with a torn cardboard box of cigarettes. “I prefer vagabond.”

“So homeless.”

“Yeah,” York mumbles, lighting the cigarette that he’d taken out for himself. “Homeless.”

Just like that, the apartment goes all but completely silent, and York finds himself wishing that he could take back the entire night. If he'd wanted to, he could have theoretically been able to stay in the bar, play some pool and make some cash that way, and then he could have come home. He would have even gone grocery shopping in the morning- honest to god shopping, with the exchange of money for goods. Not wandering the aisles and seeing what he can slip into his pockets. But now Tex is there, and she knows just how bad things have been for him. York feels like he has never been colder. He's ashamed of himself, because this was nothing like what he would have wanted for his life to be like. "It's pretty damn pathetic, York." Tex says, and York shrinks back from it. He is ready to tell her to get out, to run her away from him. It won't work though, not when Tex can kick his ass in seventeen different ways without even thinking about it, not when she came to him looking for his help and- And he owes her. "I know." He mumbles, turning his head so that he doesn't have to look at her. Tex had chosen to take her seat on his right side, so York can't exactly play dumb. "I just... don't really want to talk about it. D and I get by. That's what matters." York closes his eyes, tilting his head back against the wall behind him. There's a gentle pulse through his body, one clearly given to him by Delta and that's something that York is grateful for. "Agent York has a surprisingly strong survival instinct." Delta's projection appears between them again, and York can all but feel the warm glow of him. "The last years have been difficult, and so your presence is welcome." Delta paused for just a moment, and York couldn't help but feel the intensity of his care. "Even if York may act like otherwise."

Really, it’s about the highest praise that Delta’s given York in ages, so he’s going to try and remember all of that for later. For his own sake.

"Thanks, Delta." Tex says, and York can feel her shifting around beside him, actually getting a bit closer. So close that he can feel her synthetic skin against his own. She's warm, in that mechanical way and that's something that York doesn't mind at all. The warmth is what matters, and the contact. She wraps an arm over his shoulder, and York allows himself to lean in closer. "If you two really need it, I can stick around for a while for you idiots." "Not an idiot." York mumbles, turning his head so that its able to rest on her shoulder. "Just missed everyone." And yeah, he can't exactly act like just saying that doesn't break his heart at all. York thinks about them all constantly, even the ones that he didn't like at all. He wonders whether Wash is even alive, whether the twins are still together or not. He wonders if Reggie ever got rid of his mustache, or how Florida is, or if Illinois ever got his boat. He wonders if he needs to worry about Maine at all on top of the people that are probably searching for him to bring him to justice.

He wonders about-

He cuts the thought off before it can go any further and derail his mood. Tex shrugs, and it is enough to make York shift away slightly, but not by much. She stays close to him, keeping him there with the arm wrapped around his back. York hasn't felt so comfortable in such a long time. The fact that it's coming at the hands of someone that doesn't seem to know tenderness is surprising. "You haven't been left behind," she says, keeping her voice down and not moving any more than she needs to. "Never abandon your team." York gets the words out, barely able to cover up the slight bitter laugh that escaped him. "Right." It makes him reconsider. Tex is there for him. Tex needs his help and, Tex is the first honest to god friend that he has been able to spend any time around in a very long time. York sighs. "I'll help you." He mumbles. There is an uncomfortable pulse that rattles through his skull, and York can't help the wince. He hadn't been expecting for Delta to protest it at all, but it also isn't exactly like the AI has much of a choice. York squeezed his eyes shut, obvious discomfort showing and he only felt the sensation of Tex's hand travelling down his spine, slow and as gentle as she can manage. "Delta?" She asks. There is a moment where York could feel himself relax as Delta flashed up into the space between the two of them. "Agent Texas," Delta begins, his tone as stunted as it always was. "Without specific details with regards to this task, I am unable to calculate a tactical matrix, and Agent York's-" York shot the projection a glare, and felt a slight tightening of his muscles as a response from Delta, "methods of work are often inexact or incalculable." Tex looked down at York, and picked her hand up and began to stroke her fingers through his hair. York can't help but wonder whether or not she can feel it, but doesn't bother to ask because he hasn't felt something so pleasant for so long. He feels dirty, it's been ages since he last got a chance to clean up properly. Tex probably doesn't care. "I found a Freelancer facility. Or, records of one that I hadn’t seen before, to be clear." She begins to explain, and there is a seriousness to her voice that York feels entirely too used to. York can't remember her ever sounding playful or laughing. Maybe it isn't in her programming. "And I want to get in and get a few things before someone else can." "What kinds of things?" York asks, letting his eyes open and staring up at Tex with his one good eye. She looks down at him, and York smirks up at her. "Because-" "Oh, you know." Tex starts. "Experimental equipment, weapons, transmissions." York can't help but perk up at that mention because really, it isn't like he doesn't need things. His healing unit needs to be tuned up a bit and restocked with certain supplies. He ran out of ammo a while back and his shotgun... Well, it could also use a little bit of care itself.

"It sounds like some interesting stuff." York mumbles, doing his best to pretend like he isn't interested. Maybe if he holds out he can get Tex to sweeten the pot. Really, the possibility of having someone else there with him alone was good enough. If he holds out, then helps, that's a little more time with another person. "It is." Tex says, watching him closely from behind cybernetic eyes. "And that's why I need your help. Because all that stuff is really good, but if I don't have a way to get in, then there is only so much that I can do to get it." York looks down at his hands. They're thinner than they used to be, and he isn't sure that the little implants in his fingertips or the specialized gloves on his armor can still do their job quite right. Without them, if they end up with a holo-lock he knows for a fact he'll end up in worse shape than he would have been normally. No sensory feedback went a long way normally, York knew that already. But no sensory feedback when he already could barely look at a holo-lock in full detail? That was impossible. "If I say yes," York starts, taking his time because he has to or else he won't feel okay for a second. "What's in it for me?" "Anything you can carry out is yours." Tex says, with not even a shred of nongenuine intention in her. "I figure that sounds good?" "And to think I was hoping for cash." York retorts, breathing in smoke and letting his eyes slip shut as he relaxed a little bit more. "You're sure that this is going to be good?" "More or less." "D?" York calls for the AI out of habit at this point. "Without access to information about the facility, there is a large margin of error." Delta begins, and York smiles as he sinks down into Delta's calculations. It brings a comfort that York is entirely too used to at this point, and he isn't going to let it pass. He feels warm. "Agent Texas' presence on this mission raises the tactical matrix significantly. The presence of the Omega AI would-" "That's enough, Delta." Tex speaks up, and York can't help that there is a slight feeling of offense that washed over him at it. Delta had a liking for Tex, yeah, that was true but Delta- Delta wasn't hers to talk to like that. For all of the flaws that the two of them have, York is pretty fond of the little guy. Delta makes him feel whole in ways that people hadn't in a very long time. So yeah, York can't help but feel a bit... defensive. Even if he isn't entirely sure why. "My apologies, Agent Texas." Delta responds to it, and York feels something down in him, making him warm again and helping him relax a little more. "I was merely trying to assist." "Of course, D." Tex says, and that warmth intensifies again from Delta's. A nearly physical symbol of Delta's affection for Tex. "But I need to know if you are in or out. Preferably soon." York nods, taking a deep breath as he does his best to sort out what to do. It's already a done deal. "Yeah." York mumbles, snuggling in against Tex a little more than he probably should. "We're in." "It'll be like old times." Tex jokes, and her hand is in York's hair again, stroking through it, artificial nails scraping against his scalp in a way that is only pleasant. "I'm tired." York mumbled. "It's late." "So go to bed." Tex says, pushing him away just slightly. "I'll be here when you get up. In the meantime-" She looked to Delta's hologram. "I think me and Delta are going to need some time to work." "Right." York mumbles. He snuffs out what is left of his cigarette on the floor beside the matress. The mess won't matter a damn when he has to be getting out of there so soon anyways. As soon as this job was over with, York was going to uproot and run off to somewhere new. But he pauses, looking down the matress and then around the apartment. There isn't much of anywhere to sit, and York is pretty sure that he lives his entire life off of that matress anyways. "Tex?" He mumbles, turning and trying to settle. "Can I-" She rolls her eyes and scoots down towards the end of the the bed.  York watches her, and she just picks up his worn out old pillow before resting it against her hip and patting it. The message is clear enough. York crawls in beside her, tugging a worn out old blanket overhimself before resting his head on the pillow. The feeling of Delta's warmth and Tex's fingers stroking through York's hair is more than enough to lull him to sleep.

She feels like she has made an effort to reach out with all that she's made of. There is something in her code, reaching out for the AI that is locked up there in York's body. The feeling is there though, a gentle push back when she finally makes the effort to make contact. Then, there's Delta there. "Hey, Delta." Tex greets him, and she settles into the body that she has and relaxes. Tries not to think about how fragile the whole arrangement is, how she had seen York almost die once before. Tries not to think about the lengths that could be gone through for the sake of getting her or Delta back into Freelancer hands. "Hello, Agent Texas." Delta greets her, his projection appearing by York's helmet. The AI has made a choice to keep his projection weak, like he is afraid to be too bright for the sake of waking York up. Or perhaps he is afraid that he'll end up as a beacon for those that would wish to harm them. "How could I be of assistance?" "I feel like you and I never get to talk." Tex tells the AI, choosing to take the route of the silent conversation that the two of them were able to have. "How have things really been going, Delta?" "They have been as Agent York described." Delta responds, and Tex can feel the slightest pushback. For a moment, she wonders what York feels down in his nerves.

There has to be some sort of feedback from Delta, but Tex can’t imagine what. It could be something as simple as sound, or something as complex as unknotting his muscles or tricking him into thinking that he felt things differently than he actually did. With York sleeping though, there was no real way to tell. 

“I trust that you have been taking care of him, D?” “To the best of my ability.” Delta responded, his voice calm as it always was. Tex wondered whether or not the AI’s monotone ever took on a hint of panic or not. “There is only so much that I can do without interfering in Agent York’s autonomy. Deep nervous stimulation is an intrusive process." And that's something that Tex thinks she can understand. Somewhere, deep down inside of her knows exactly what its like to feel like something has been torn away. That was what the Director did to her. To the other fragments as well. She wonders if Delta remembers it at all, if that is something that bothers him. If it does, Tex is sure that it bothers York as well, in its own way. "That's very kind of you, Delta." Tex says, relaxing back and looking down at York again where he rests. "I just wish that I could tell you more about what I need you two to help me with." "Without blueprints that is very little that I can do as well." Delta responds, and Tex watches the bob of his head, the way that Delta seems to focus his gaze onto the sleeping York. "Agent York is a great believer in luck. Once the infiltration begins, he is likely to play it by ear with me assisting and correcting as we go." Tex nods. "We'll get a strategy together before we go in to do this." She mumbles, allowing herself to say it out loud because it feels like something that York deserves to hear himself. Even if he isn't awake enough to understand, York deserves to hear it out loud. "I trust you, Delta." She says, still keeping her voice down. "York does too. It's going to be up to all of us to watch each other's backs." "Part of my assigned duty is to assist York's vision." Delta cuts in, like that is the exact same thing. It is, but only to a degree and that isn't necessarily a bad thing. At the very least, Tex can trust that Delta won't go abandoning York at any point. "I will do my best to compensate for his left side whilst also watching after you." Tex smiles. "Thank you, Delta." She says calmly. "I know that we can always trust in you." Delta's projection seems to nod, and Tex lets herself calm down again. She feels York shift against her leg, and she just responds with another stroke of her fingers through his head. She knows that she should probably power down herself, and Delta could probably use it himself. She doesn't even need to say it herself, but then a moment later Delta was speaking up himself. "Rest would be conducive to our mission, Agent Texas." Delta gives the explanation, and Tex wonders if it is because he's about to wake York up. "More can be discussed once all three of us are awake." "Right." Tex mumbles, still patting down York's hair. "Power down, D. I'll rest. We can talk in the morning." "Thank you, Agent Texas."